Hey guys! The Phantom Penance has come back to life!
Not as widely received as I thought, but you know, stick with something until its greatness is force fed down people's throats, and you can't go wrong!
Let's get another chapter going!
Chapter 2: Never going back (ever)
(I DON'T OWN ANYTHING!)
"Cheap low life scum."
I slammed the door to my apartment, the door taking the most of my sour mood. The short story about it was that the contractor was a spineless, lying, wheezer of a meatbag!
He was a Volus whose name I don't want to remember. The idiot got all jumpy at the sight of blood and lowered my pay! I threatened him with a bullet, and he had the guts to lower it again! Once he threatened not to pay me at all, I had to cut my losses.
I left, expecting to be a thousand credits richer, I came back with half that amount. Who in the Citadel can pay their bills with 500 credits, let alone buy more food, bullets, and stitching for my holey jacket!?
Sorry, I'm usually more reserved than this. It's just that, at the current moment, I'm a little bit absolutely livid.
My apartment is far from Commander Shepard's spacious housing. No, mine is composed of one bland color, one very hard floor, an equally hard bed, a fridge, a bathroom, and my dreams. You don't need to know what I do for showers. Just be satisfied with the answer being I did what had to be done.
Oh, I forgot. I also have a window where I care for my lovely tomatoes.
Most aliens think humans to be impulsive brutes, demanding our way or the mass relays (they are mostly right), but there is one thing that all aliens can call humanity's shining redeemer:
Our tomatoes are insatiable.
So soft, so red, so plump full of violent tastes, as if humanity's violence has been stored inside of it to give it a good, strong flavor. Yessiree, the tomato business is where it's at if you want to get some side cash. Sadly enough, my side business gets me more credits than my actual job.
Nevertheless, when it comes to the fresh 500 credits I've got in my bank account, those bad boys are a priority above eating.
With nothing to do, I sat on my bed, took off my jacket, and took to my pastime hobby: watching the contract list and care for my gun.
The Judgement pistol. Small, sleek, standard black and white with a cool name. The common thing with weapons is that ammo isn't a problem since the mass effect field in guns takes little stuff, lowers the mass in that thing, and fires it off at super speed, but ammo still has a hefty price. It's a good thing I don't need much of it.
My eyes scrolled down the endless list of faces of people who had wronged someone in their life, and ogled at the number of zeros that made their bounty. These very naughty people….if I could get just one of those, I'd be set for a good couple of years. Get myself a decent apartment, some decent (human) food, and buy more land to make more tomatoes.
Yeah, I could see it already. Turning my humble tomato business into a galactic tomato corporation.
That is, before the Reapers destroy it all. Yes, way before that.
The message button on my microframe went off, meaning somebody was calling me. That's either very good or very bad. Nobody calls me for anything.
"Phantom Penance bounty hunter business, where we kill or capture indiscriminately-"
"That name sucks." A hard-as-nails, take-no-prisoners, female voice came through my screen.
Question: what's one level above humanist and one level below Cerberus terrorist? Sarah Plump, C-Sec officer and a secret admirer of yours truly.
It's bad enough that law enforcement are regarded as Satan's helpers, but add the fact that Sarah is a human, and you've got a girl who's seen a lot. Sarah's belief that humanity excelling as being the Alliance's greatest allies or worse pain in the neck will inevitably make the Alliance take humans seriously is a little out there, but I don't judge.
Kinda can't judge since she had yours truly flat on my butt, cuffed, and a click away from getting some C-Sec officers to cart me away somewhere. My saving grace from indefinite confinement, my sob story of not being the greatest bounty hunters due to aliens not like working/hiring humans.
So, from time-to-time, she gives me heads up on certain contracts in my vicinity. Like she probably is doing right now.
"How dare you insult my glorious name! I have sweat and bled to have my own-"
"I've got something for you. Shut up and listen a bit." Sarah rudely cut through. I opened the email she quickly sent me and was attacked by the most vicious mug shot I had ever seen.
This Turian had seen better days and definitely looked better in them too. One wicked gash covered his entire face from top to bottom with staples keeping it together, another scar went over his now blind left eye, and a permanent scowl seemingly glued to him.
"Name's Cailus Quinnion. Arrested for handling tons of Hallex and the murder of two C-Sec officers." Plump greeted.
I stared at the picture of the gangster. "Sounds like he should be in jail."
"He should be. He paid bail before his trial, probably going to get his other friends to clean up his record."
"And you want me to…"
"Take him out. He doesn't deserve to be back on the streets and he's hanging with the right people who will make that happen. Cailus is one of the best with Hallex, the drug cartel won't let him off so easy." She explained.
I gave a soft chuckle. "So cold! Whatever would people say when they find out Citadel's finest houses police brutality?"
"You haven't seen me brutal yet." She spoke as in the form of a warning. "He's lounging about in Lower Shalta, go get him before his buddies do."
"Now, I know that I'm working for the greater good," I began as I lazily reset my precious Judgement pistol, "and I'm all for it, but doing the right thing is not what's paying the bills right-"
"Bounty's at three thousand, I know a Volus who wants him dead. Gives you an advantage of not having to deal with a hostage."
"-which is why I will be on the next terminal to Ward Shalta, immediately. Bye!"
(LINE BREAK! TAKE THIS TIME TO ACTUALLY TAKE A BREAK, JOIN YOUR FAMILY!)
(LINEBREAK OVER, YOU CAN COME BACK NOW…bet you never left)
Ward Shalta, the Jersey side of the galactic cesspool.
It's a pretty simple Ward, the rich live on the top, the poor live on the bottom, and everybody's seen their fair share of violence. C-Sec tries, of course, but they aren't an army that can face against the corruption that's taken the ward, they can only contain it.
I don't mind the corruption really. Sure it's bad and all, but from an economic standpoint, corruption is both the fertilizer and the rain to make my work slowly and surely grow. It's like I always say, as long as there's two people on Citadel, someone's gonna want the other person dead.
Except there's not two people on the Citadel. There's five million, one on each Ward.
The Terminal rang for Ward Shalta, meaning it was my stop. Due to the horrible convenience of being poor, I travel very light for these little jobs. My equipment consisted of pants, a shirt, a brown (and fixed) trench coat to hold my pistol, a couple of clips, and all the luck of my ancestors on my side.
My body itched as I walked through the busy crowds. I hated moments like this, the calm before the storm, it always makes me question if I'm going over my head on this one. Adding the fact that this guy's part of the cartel only made the itching-and my attitude- much worse.
What if this guy's working for the kind of boss who's very territorial? Like, not only kills my employer, but also me?
Take it from me, I don't fear death. I was afraid, but I've accepted the inevitable in, like, seventh grade. Death isn't my primary fear, but I still would much rather prefer to live. Even better, I'd prefer not to suffer before I die. Strange because I took myself to contract killing, knowing I'd be facing the prospect of death with every job.
But, you know, a man's gotta do what he can to survive, and I've got too bad of a record to get a respectable job.
"Now if I got my directions straight, Kaillos Avenue should be on the right…." An asari, helpful beings, advised me as we stared at the map together.
Was thinking about dating an Asari once. Of course, anybody with a quarter libido would agree, but I decided against it. Kinda sad, really. I swore to myself I'd live the life I never dared to in Mass Effect, and I'm still too scared to get the girl.
Forget that now, just spotted my lucky man.
Shoved unceremoniously out a market, Cailus swore (at least I think he swore, he said something loudly at the Batarian, so I can only assume….) and started to walk away from me.
"You're mine now," I cackled wickedly to myself. The first thing to do was pull back the safety in case something else comes up, then get close enough to deliver the kill.
As opposed to all the idiots on movies, I made sure to trail my target the right way by getting far off to his side, but still a little bit behind Cailus. That way, should he ever turn to look back, he'd see me away from him which would persuade him to lower his guard and not think twice when I get closer. Up until the point he gets a bullet in his head.
Aw man, I love easy deals like this one. No rush, no fuss-
"Ah! He's got a gun!"
I don't know whether the idiot was referring to me or somebody else, but Cailus took off like she was referring to him.
"Gghm…. Shoot a monkey!" I growled in anger and (sadly) ran after the man.
(Line BREAK! Take this time to actually take a Break!)
(Line Break done, back to work!)
My heart burned, my legs tensed and I gasped what felt like my last breath.
This was the end of me. Death by exercise.
"I don't suppose you could just stop running and let me shoot you?" I wheezed to myself as the Turian ran off at that God-awful speed. He was a real Usain Bolt, this one. If I had known he was an Olympic athlete, I would have took him from afar.
Now he was gonna get away. I can already see his ugly, stitched face making a smile at outrunning me. Thinks he's so tough, so cool to outrun a human bounty hunter, I oughta-
"My side!" I moaned, clutching my hip and the source of that weird pain we've all felt when running. That was it. I was done running for the day, time to play a little dirty for once.
I pulled out my Judgement pistol and took the safety off. Why did I have it on safety? I could lie to you and say that as a firm believer that guns kill, I wanted to be safe everywhere I go, but that is not the real truth.
Because there is nothing more satisfying than pulling the safety and locking the hammer right before the kill.
BANG!
Good news: I got him! Bad news: in the waist.
Now Usain Bolt from Space Jamaica was reduced to limping away instead of running, which is fine for me. Gives me the chance to finish the contract….halfway…up close and very personal. No, I'm not a sadist bounty hunter, but I want him to know my displeasure for having to chance him down.
"You've got to be joking." I deadpanned at the roar of a cruiser, a cruiser that just so happens to be labelled by a trail of blood. Turian blood.
As the craft flew away, I stared down its owner, or should I say, former owner.
I've made up mind: If I can help it, I'll never take a dead contract for Asari. Sure, they're cute, but their features reflected a sense of childhood innocence. Or maybe she just was innocent of the world, maybe she was visiting her family before some hillbilly took her out from behind, snuffing her life when it had just begun (or, at least I think it had just begun, never can tell with Asari).
Said hillbilly was my responsibility. Had I had better aim….faster legs….
"No freaking way." I gasped. On her wrist was a shiny Omni-Tool!
Yeah, "too soon," but she really didn't need it now, and it's a game! You know games, loot from fallen enemies?
"Hey, SP, guess who got a new, handy-dandy Omni-tool!" I greeted cheerfully.
"Did you get him?" Sarah demanded. Guess she's the business before pleasure time. Loooooong before pleasure.
"H-Heh heh…don't get mad…..but he might've got away-"
"Idiot!"
"I rebuke that! I graduated highschool!"
"He'll be heading to Omega. No law-enforcement can touch him there." She replied.
Ooooh, Omega. The bad guys' paradise. I never dreamed I would go to Omega, it was too violent, reminded me of the bad spots of Chi-Town. Or, at the very least, I would go only with the protection of Shepard and his/her crew. They're beasts.
But it seems, little ol' me doesn't have a choice.
"You forget, I'm not law enforcement," I reminded, "and I don't what we have between us isn't exactly 'by the books.'Imma catch a shuttle to Omega and finish the job."
"You better. The Systems would be better off without him."
"Sheesh, again with the police brutality!"
And with that note, I started my long journey into requiring a ship (hopefully, not by credits) that will take me to the worst planet in the solar system. With any luck, me being a bounty hunter would help me fit right in with the crowd of cutthroats.
Breaking the Fourth Wall for a bit, oh how wrong I was.
Chapter 2 completed!
Well sirree, looks like I'm heading to the trouble of a lifetime (mostly because I just said it)! I wonder if I will survive? I seriously am tempted to kill myself in some stories sometimes, just to see if people would like it more or hate it.
Oh well, tune in next time!