Author's Note: Decided to start this mini-chapter in Kol's point-of-view... and then the next chapter will be in Kath's. I had to break it up into chapters because if I put all the action in one chapter. It'll be a mess. So just call this an interlude of sorts?

The Bazaar, Leith

"Quit pacing the front of my tent, Mikaelson!" Jenna Sommers's southern accent rings shrilly from the inside of her office. Kol ducks his head in shame and acquiesces. Hands on his buckle belt, he swaggers in to find the former Killjoy shifting some papers on her desk.

"Hi. Sorry about that. I was-" He fumbles for an excuse.

"Not like you to loiter around, boy. What does Kath want?"

Kol straightens his spine and feints looking at his screen. "We picked up a warrant like ten minutes ago. Guy named Andras."

"Yeah, and I noticed it was a level five. Not like her to misclick," Sommers glances up from her messy desk briefly.

He has a game plan. Don't stall. Sommers ain't no chatterbox, so if he annoys her enough… she'll dismiss him and send him the information. He can do this. He's amazing at that. One hesitation and she'll know. By the trees, she was a goddamn Level Five Killjoy.

Kol shrugs helplessly and perches on the nearest corner of Sommers's desk. He picks up something cube-like off her desk to play with. Must be a paperweight or whatever desk-bound officers decorate their boring tables with.

"Hey, boss's orders. We kinda go way back. Ran into him during an old mission and that bloke, man. He was a real asshat. Dutch's looking to let loose some steam. So what's this do? Holotransmitter? Is this from the old world?" Kol presses a finger to his temple and closes his eyes.

He feels her sharp nails raking against the gloved cotton of his palm and his eyes find a scowling Sommers snatching the trinket out of his grasp. She places it back in its original location and types rapidly into her personal digital device.

"Get off my table, Mikaelson. Info's sent."

Kol rechecks his device before strolling backward, waving his PDD at her with a charming smile. "Looking good, Sommers."

He hears a scoff as he pivots towards the heavy linen covering the exit. His grin fades into a serious grimace as he heads out.

Now he has to find that damn Arcturus which is a mega interstellar transport ship operated by The Company. Who knows how long that will take. Besides the fact that the junk was a humongous cruise ship means it shouldn't be too hard to find and it sticks out like a sore thumb.

He just hopes Kath wouldn't be too bored enough to check in on him.

Prison Space Station

An aging, mid-sized orbital space station hangs in inky space. One small personal craft departs as the Prison Transpo shuttle skims in, cutting engines and docking. The last of a group of jumpsuited prisoners exit the shuttle into the docking bay. The shuttle is empty until a small door flaps down from the ceiling. Kol carefully lowers himself, donning on an identical prison-issue jumpsuit. Closing the door quietly, he quickly moves to catch up with the other prisoners. The prison guard leads the prisoners into a fight room where the sweaty, blood-hungry crowd crams stadium-style, stacked seats. Snack vendors pass through, while signs and adverts are plastered everywhere.

A large, electrified metal cage stands in the middle where two prisoner combatants are having a brutal MMA match. Legal human cockfighting, privatized and monetized. A speech booms over the group and Kol zooms in towards the booker who was yelling to be heard over the crowd.

"Alright, listen up, bitches. Our circuit takes up and down the J star cluster. When you're done working off your fare, we can drop you off at any one of the colonies along our route. Until then, we own you. Every fight you win goes towards paying down your fare. The further you wanna travel, the more you gotta pay off. The more you gotta pay off, the more you gotta fight. Fan favorites get more matches, so let's try to look pretty out there. We accept no liability for injuries, but in the event of death, your loved ones will receive the usual stipend. Now… watch and learn."

Kol waits till the group dispenses before sidling up to the booker. He slings a friendly arm around the stout man. "Listen, what would it cost me to pick my first opponent?"

He receives a long side-eye in return as the booker gives him a glance-over. "Depends. Who you have in mind?"

Kol grins and points into the center of the ring where two men are brawling competitively in the ring's center. "Coby Andras."

In the ring, one fighter picks up his opponent and slams him down with cracking of bone combined with a spray of blood. The crowd goes wild. The winning fighter pumps his fists in the air, turning to face Kol's direction.

The booker chortles with a head shake before slapping Kol on the back. "Oh… this one's on me, kid."

.

tbc