8: A Bit of a Pickle

It was only a day after I encountered Luisa that I came across this guy. Real scrawny guy to me, wouldn't call him shifty. He ain't no slick snake oil salesman. At least, he wasn't at first. Met him in this bandit hideout, was actually a hamlet in the middle of nowhere. Oh, if you don't know, a hamlet is a real small settlement, smaller than a village, but bigger than a single building plopped down somewhere. A hamlet's got a cluster of houses and shit, but usually not something like a government building or church or whatever. They're usually on roads to places important, with the buildings placed on either side of the path, or on crossroads. This one particular hamlet was called Plum Plains, and it was bisected by a single road.

Now, as I approached the settlement, I caught sight of the namesake for the place: there were greenhouses, some of which had smashed windows. Parked my bike about… oh, maybe half a click away from the central buildings. Looked inside one of the greenhouses, they were full of plum trees, not many of them harvested. I went back to my bike and got the heavy blaster, and headed towards the hamlet itself, ready to smoke some thugs.

You may be wondering right about now how I realized that this was a bandit hideout. Well, it's actually simple really, just gotta pay attention. Bandits, raiders, scavvers, whatever you wanna call 'em, the chaotic evil crazies of Papetoon have this similar aesthetic to 'em. Their rides are haphazardly put together, falling apart, or stolen and heavily modified. Their clothes are tattered, mismatched, or also stolen. They're armed with basically everything under the sun, from kinetics to blasters to DEWs to even melee weaponry. And actually, they do bathe, so you really can't distinguish them from smell. But the way they act, the way they carry themselves, like they threw all caution to the wind, like they just don't care about anyone or anything anymore, 'cept maybe themselves, that's how a bandit usually acts. And they're always motivated by money. How much they can make, how much they can take, how much they have, how much they want. But, there's a fine line that separates the average merc like me or someone else, from the bandits. Mercs have lines. Mercs have boundaries. They won't do certain things. Bandits will. Bandits will do anything, and I mean anything, anytime, for any reason. If they wanna rape someone to death, they're gonna do it. If they wanna cannibalize someone 'cause they couldn't find a can of old peaches, they'll do it. If they wanna rob and shoot an old lady blind, they're gonna rob and kill her.

That is the exact vibe I felt off of Plum Plains. That and the cars parked around the place looked like shit. And there was a sign that said "TRESSPASSERS WILL BE SHOT!" Not a sign you'd see in any normal settlement, I assure you. What really sealed the deal for me though was before I rode towards the place, when I spotted it from a ridgeline a few clicks away. Looked through my binoculars, and caught sight of a small bunch of 'em gang rape this girl in the middle of the settlement. Then one of 'em shot her in the back of the head. Another kept on fucking the corpse. I was like "Oh yeah, I'm blasting these fools away."

So, I crept up to the place. Kept low, slow, quiet, moving forward from behind cover by their vehicles they parked along the dusty street. Peeked over and saw one of them, the one that shot the girl in the head, walking around, patrolling, the rifle he used to put a hole in her head still cradled in his hands. Wanted to take him out, so I decided to draw him to me by knocking twice on the hood of a rusty two-door I was posted behind. As I heard the guy's footsteps come closer to me, I silently slinked back to the trunk of the car, and when he stood where I was, I found myself on the other side of the car, near where he approached. I peeked through the window, and he was totally oblivious to my presence, with the thug looking around curiously to find out what exactly that sound was. He was some sort of jackal, his ears perked up, scanning for any sound. That's when I moved on him, swiftly jumping over the hood and tackling him to the ground. I unleashed my claws from my fingertips and slashed open his throat, the blood rushing from the deep wounds. He bled out quick, a quiet choking noise snuffing any attempt he made to cry for help. One down, I thought, and I had no clue how many were left.

Looked around, and saw that nobody in particular spotted me and that takedown, which was a plus for me. I peeked to the center of the hamlet, and saw that weirdo still going at the corpse. Then I noticed that most of the rest of them were holed up in one big house, partying or something. Must've had a good raid or something, so they didn't need to go out today, so they just fucked around indoors or something. Snuck up towards the weirdo, snapped his neck clean with one quick motion. He fell with a thud onto the corpse, was still inside it. I got pissed and disgusted all at once, and charged up my heavy blaster. Walked to the front of the house they were in, stepped back a bit, and unloaded on the whole front of the damn thing. The brilliant red plasma bolts raked the whole front of the building with holes, and I heard yelling coming from inside. I stopped shooting for a bit to check things out, still heard some yelling. Titled my head quizzically to get a better bead on things, while one of my hands moved to turn on my shield emitter. The satisfying sound of the hum of it soothed me, making me sure that I was protected – limitedly I might add – from almost all forms of damage.

A few heads peeked out from the windows, which gave me good targets to unload on. I blasted away the areas around the windows, and after that, the yelling turned to… well, it was still yelling, but it was like the crying for help kind. The kind you hear from guys who've just been shot and are squirming on the ground in a pool of their own blood. Stared at the house in front of me for a bit, a two-story, the front full of holes. Paint looked like it was stripped off by years' worth of harsh winds. The door was shot open, by yours truly, and when I looked inside I saw two boots' soles staring right back. Apparently one of the thugs was standing right behind the door or something, and I turned him into paste.

Decided to check this house out, so I went inside. The house was unkempt, obviously. Beer bottles, empty food cans, just trash everywhere. Most of the bandits were canines of various sorts, but there were a handful of apes and avians too. Almost all the bodies were in and around the dining room, where they looked like they were hanging out in. Almost all the bodies were in and around the dining room, where they looked like they were hanging out in. The whole place smelled like they kept spraying air freshener all over the place, which I confirmed after finding a whole bunch of those cans in a cupboard. Rummaged around more cupboards and didn't find too many goodies, just canned food and shit like that. I kept my heavy blaster at the ready as I checked room after room on the first floor, and when I was satisfied that those were clear, I headed upstairs.

I crept up the creaky wooden stairs real slow and careful-like, anxious that someone would just pop out with a shotgun or something and try to blow me away. My shields would keep me alive after that initial blast, but after that there were no guarantees. Aimed my heavy blaster's barrel up the stairs, scanning for any hostiles. Didn't see or here nobody, but that didn't mean the house was empty. Had to check every room, so I did, and whenever I poked my head in one my heart would beat a thousand times a minute, only to calm down a bit when I found that there wasn't jack shit in one. Finally, I went to the master bedroom. Crept towards the slightly ajar door real slow-like, my footsteps making low, muffled thuds on the worn carpet slapped atop the hall's wooden floorboards. With every footstep I gritted my teeth, hating that the noise gave me away, but I threw caution to the wind right there. At long last I was at the door, my heavy blaster fired up and ready.

Opened the door real slowly, carefully, with it making a light creaking sound. For sure anyone who was in there could find out I was right on top of 'em. Nothing though, at least, not when the door was opened up a bit. As I walked out of the door's cover and into plain view, the barrel of my blaster poking out into the room, I got greeted with a blast from a sniper rifle. Broke my shields instantly, but luckily there was just enough energy in them to keep me alive. Would've shot me in the chest otherwise. I stumbled onto my ass as I let out a burst from my heavy blaster, utterly unloading into the guy who tried to blow me away. After the burst, I realized my blaster was empty, so I reloaded. Had one more mag after this one, so I decided to put the big one aside for my Universal.

Took out my pistol and approached the guy in the room. Didn't look so tough, kinda short. Was an armadillo with a sniper rifle laying on the bed. My guess was that I already clipped him with that initial blast all over the front of the house, and he set up a last-ditch ambush sorta thing to try and take me out. Took a good look at the dude's sniper rifle, which made me realize something: I still had Bronstein's rifle, and hadn't even used it yet. Whoopsie.

Anyway, after that, I decided to check out the rest of the hamlet, make sure it was empty and things like that. As I walked out of the big house I saw some more thugs scramble out of one of the smaller houses, they were armed with pistols. I shot them dead with my own piece, then walked into that house and poked around. Nothing, just an ordinary country home. Went to the next one, same thing. Uninhabited, but not boring. That one was their stash house for all the loot they managed to get. Wasn't much though, which means they either just started as a group, had a load of bad luck, or managed a quick turnover with whatever fence they had.

I finished checking out yet another house – nobody in it – when I heard some yelling. Came from the last house I didn't check. Sounded like a faint cry for help, so I went to the house. Got louder as I got closer to the building, and I could hear it clear as day: definitely cries for help. Had a bad feeling going up to the door, though, so I kept low as I turned the knob and pushed open the door before quickly rolling to the side, when several blaster shots rang out and came screaming out of the doorway. Counted six before it stopped, and I heard the jingling of rounds tumbling out of a revolver. Rushed inside and shot dead the gal who was standing not too far smack-dab in front of the doorway. God, she looked so young. About my age, a lizard, had a black tight shirt with a midriff on it, a jacket with a… a pin-up button on it that said "FUCK YOU." Hah hah hah, I think she and I would've been friends.

Heard footsteps stomping up the stairs leading to the basement of the house, so I took cover behind a wall, the one right next to the doorway to the stairs. Door itself was already open, so I just waited, my blaster raised with me holding it almost at hip-level. Pretty soon, saw this form round the corner and I blasted him a few times, getting him clean in the side. The guy stumbled towards a short shelf and the window, where he had this auto-pistol in his hand and he tried to aim it in my direction, emptying the mag wildly. In no time he just crumbled onto the ground, this short, somewhat chubby mutt. Had on a baseball cap with the logo for Lightning Life on it, that's an EDM band from Corneria. The logo was two crossed purple lightning bolts, because it's a duo, there's two of 'em. He also had on a faded gray t-shirt and these worn cargo pants, and he was decked out in tactical gear and all that nonsense.

"Help!" I heard a voice yell. "Help, please! Help!"

"Shut up, fucking ape!" retorted another voice.

Peeked down the stairs for just a split second, and was greeted by a shotgun blast from down below.

"Fuck," I uttered to myself. Heard the pump action rack back, and silence. Had to get him while he was racking that shotgun, which is massively tricky of course. Decided to blind fire, just one shot, so I did, I fired once down the staircase, which led to a shotgun blast in my direction yet again, and right as I heard that first clacking sound, when the guy was pulling back that pump action, I popped out and aimed true, shooting that guy in the face, this bird of some sort. Had on a button-up shirt with a long-flowing trench coat and this wide-brimmed hat. He didn't really look like a cowboy, more like a trekker. I rounded one more corner and saw, on a dingy mattress in the corner of the largely empty basement illuminated by a single solitary dirty iridescent lightbulb, a guy. Like I said before, real scrawny, kinda lanky. Taller than me. About twenty years older than me. Was dressed in a long light coat with a button-up shirt, khakis, and outdoorsman boots. He was handcuffed, his arms behind his back, and he laid face-down on the mattress.

"Well, friend," I started, "seems you've found yourself in a bit of a pickle."

"Ah, yeah, it seems like it," replied the stranger. "Hey, can you please get me outta here? You'll be rewarded."

"What kind of reward?"

"Cornerian credits."

I grumbled a bit because Cornerian creds weren't used much here. They had to be exchanged by hard currency, Papetoonese dollars. Goddamn hated Papetoon for a lotta reasons, this being one of them. But, I decided to put up with it, because one way or another I'd get a lotta money in the end. So, I rummaged through the trekker I just shot and found a set of keys, then walked over to the guy. He thanked me as I knelt down and unlocked the cuffs, which jangled as I tossed them aside. Helped him up, where he dusted off his clothes. We shook hands.

"Thank you sir," he said. "I'm Doctor Henry Andross. I'm a scientist working for the Cornerian government."

"I'm Wolf O'Donnell, mercenary," I replied. "Cornerian government, huh? You're a long way from home, Doc."

"Indeed. Knowledge, or rather, its pursuit, has brought me to this far-off world. Unfortunately, my journey has been a bit… rougher than I expected."

"Papetoon tends to be a bit rough, honestly. C'mon Doc."

As the Doc and I headed upstairs, I started grilling him.

"So, what're you doing on Papetoon, Doc?"

"As I said before, the pursuit of knowledge."

"Knowledge can mean a lotta things."

"Honestly, I can't say anymore. It's classified, you know."

"Ah, whatever. You can have your secrets, so long as I get paid."

"Rest assured, you will."

We reached the ground floor, then stepped out of the house and into the open.

"How the Hell did these lowlifes get to you anyway?" I asked.

"Heh, I was careless," answered Andross. "I decided that I could work faster and more efficiently if I wasn't hampered by my security detail from the Cornerian Army. As you can see, that was a mistake, and before I knew it, I was captured by these ruffians. I told them who I was, so they decided to hold me for ransom."

"How long ago was your run-in with these guys?"

"Just yesterday, actually. Fortunately they didn't do much harm to me, just a few scratches and bruises, nothing too serious. I shudder to think, however, of what they might have done to me had time dragged on."

"Yeah, guys like these tend to get meaner the more you hang out with 'em. So anyway, does the Army know where you are?"

"They gave me a tracker, but those hoodlums stripped it from me: I don't know where they put it."

"Hmm, well, they do have a stash house. I'll look in there."

"I better come with you. I can recognize the device, plus, I'd rather not be alone. Who knows what might happen."

"Sure, whatever, c'mon."

Lead the Doc to the stash house, this old building with a faded blue paint coating it. We went inside, it was like the other houses, a two-story with a basement. Was furnished normally, like any country house, most of the stuff was in the basement. Wasn't much stuff though, like I said before. A few crates full of haphazardly thrown-in weapons, jewelry, clothing, nonperishable food. The Doc and I rummaged through the crate with weapons in it.

"Aha!" he exclaimed. "Here it is." From the crate he picked up some sort of small disk thingy. He turned it on with the press of a button, and it lit up with blue lights and made a single, low, long beeping sound. "There we go. Now Sgt. Shears can pinpoint and find me."

"Good," I said, shrugging my shoulders. "Now about that reward…"

"Yes, yes, of course," stammered Andross. He took off one of his boots to reveal a credit chip. No doubt it had his travel money or something. He handed it to me. Got a bit grossed out because of where he chose to hid it, but didn't matter much, money's money. Took it and quickly stuffed it in my back pants pocket. "Now… we wait?

"Yeah, that's-" I was cut off by the sound of a rumbling car engine. Walked down the street a bit and saw a two-door coming into the hamlet, had two guys in it. They parked it and I raised my Uni at them, shot 'em both dead, one to the head each. Then, I walked straight back to Andross and picked up where I left off. "That's the idea. Actually, you wait up in the big house, I'll get to looting these bodies."

"Looting?"

"Looting. You know. Picking the bodies clean of loot."

"Ah… I see. That's how you make your living I take it?"

"Mostly. Usually the pay's not that great in jobs."

"Have you ever thought about working for anyone full-time?"

"Hmm… nah, I probably wouldn't. I prefer to be on my own, freelance."

"Would any amount of money persuade you?"

"Eh, probably. 'verse runs on money, after all."

"Indeed."

"So Doc, what got you into science? Why put on a lab coat?"

"Because… honestly… I'm pretty damn smart."

"Not smart enough to keep from getting caught by bandits."

"Maybe not street smart, but definitely book smart. Also, I want to help people. Make new technologies to improve people's lives. For example, Med-Pods. They are a modern-day real-life panacea, capable of curing almost any ailment and healing almost any injury. However, they're prohibitively expensive. Only the most prestigious medical centers, the military and government, or the richest of the rich can afford to use one, let alone have one. And-and-and faster-than-light travel. So far we've only used warp engines, but those too are hugely expensive, certainly far more costly than what most people can afford, and the ones that are used by civilians are imported from other nations like the Ruthenian Empire, also at cost… and they're better than ours. I want to simplify those technologies, reduce costs on development and manufacture, making it easier to construct them en masse. Imagine how greatly our society could benefit from such technologies. We could finally colonize worlds beyond our local star cluster, and become a real contender on the galactic and intergalactic stage. Not to mention how many people could be well-off with ease of medicine and travel."

He blabbed on for a bit while I was looting the bodies, following me around, even after I told him to stay put in the house. I nodded and said "Uh-huh" or "Yeah" sometimes to assure him I was following him, when I really wasn't. To be honest, I kinda liked what he was saying. Cheap Med-Pods. Cheap FTL. Food replicators. Zero-point energy. Well, the last one still has my head scratching, but I understand the other three well enough. But it all seemed… too good to be true, you know? Like, somehow, there's a catch or something. Hmph. Maybe I've been infected with negativism from my own life experiences, or just simple pop cultural osmosis of a cynical take on the future from a whole lotta pre-Unification sci-fi works.

Anyway, I netted a cool five grand in cash from these guys, plus a lot of ammo and shit like that. By the time I was done, an armed convoy of Cornerian military vehicles rumbled into the hamlet. Army soldiers decked out in advanced tactical gear, carrying cutting edge weapons, popped out of the vehicles and pointed their blasters at me, at which point I put my hands up and kept them in view. I was not gonna get shot today by the government, no sir. Kept yelling at me to keep my hands up, and then get onto my knees. I did so, and one of them, covered by the others, put my hands behind my back and a zip-tie around my wrists. Out of the lead vehicle came a guy who looked like an NCO, with the nametag on it reading "SHEARS."

"Ah, Sgt. Shears!" yelled Andross excitedly, walking towards him with a hand wave. "Thank goodness you've showed up."

"Doctor, what the Hell has gotten into you?" asked Shears. "You've led us on a wild goose chase across three separate territories, putting me and my men at risk. What for?"

"For this…" Andross, from one of his shoes, took out some sort of drive or chip or something. Shears looked intrigued, and plugged the thingy into a datapad. What he saw certainly caught him by surprise.

"Well, seems you deliver, Doctor," Shears said. "But you still need some security, so please. Stick with us, and we'll follow you where you need to go."

"Yes, yes, of course, I've learned my lesson from this experience. And this man saved me." He pointed to me when he said that.

"Is that so?" asked Shears.

"It is," replied Andross.

Shears walked up to me. "Who're you?" he asked.

"Wolf O'Donnell," I answered. "And I just saved your mad scientist from these crazies." I turned my head to gesture with my snout to the dead bodies.

"Hmm," uttered Shears. "Alright, let him go." And so, the soldier behind me removed the zip-ties from my hands.

"Thanks, Mr. O'Donnell," said Shears. The group and Andross went back into their vehicles, but not before Andross gave me one last look, smiled at me, nodded, and waved. I nodded back. The convoy bolted outta the hamlet quickly, leaving me behind in a thick cloud of dust, forcing me to fan away some of the particulates with my hand. After a few more minutes of poking around, getting some more hidden goodies, I rode away from Plum Plains.

Did I know that I just met the man who would become one of the most dangerous people to have ever lived in Lylat's history? No. If I did know, would I have killed him right then and there? Hmm…. I dunno. I honestly can't answer that question. Sure, he was a bad guy, but a lot of people are bad. Hell, sometimes I can get pretty mean myself. Plus he paid me, he paid me good. All that suffering though. Eh, sometimes I care, sometimes I don't. Ain't my problem though, not really anyway. Someone else can fix it. Besides, gotta take care of myself, you know? And that's its own bag of worms. I ain't got no time to look after other people when nobody but me is looking after me.