"I'm going in."
"In your head that sounded clever. No you're not. Under no circumstances are you 'going in'."
"Yes I am. I'm absolutely going in. Watch me."
"Observe and report. Our instructions were quite clear."
"I'm observing mission parameters changing. Now I'm reporting to you my intentions. Which are to go in. Besides, even if you wanted to stop me, you're in space. I'm going in."
"I'm going to kill you, Sara."
"No, they're going to try and kill me, but that's on them. You just get ready with that extract."
- Unknown transmission, intercepted above Venus
"What do we do?!" Telin stared at the door, whispering.
The door pounded again. They stood frozen before it, powerless.
"I thought you were working on a plan!" Neera whispered back.
"I am! This wasn't part of it!"
"Quiet, both of you." The boy shushed. He had the dishrag in his hand as he started toward the door. "Help me now."
There was blood on the floor from where they had first dragged Kelpo through. Telin hadn't even noticed.
They worked quickly, mopping at the blood; padding to and fro; hastily cleaning up the mess. The last minute clean-up was conducted in anxious silence. The floor was still wet when they finished.
The banging at the door became more insistent.
Fellik pounded a meaty fist against the front door. The holographic Closed sign fizzled and sparked from the impact.
He waited. Pounded again. The 141's around him exchanged looks. Brewer and Telch produced compact shotguns from their coats, psyching themselves up. Stevvin, the largest of them, stepped forward with a battering ram. He looked at Fellik intently, awaiting the final order.
The viewport snicked open.
"Sorry folks." Neera smiled apologetically, voice breezy and cheerful. "Was out back. How can I help?"
"Looking for someone. Hoping you can help."
"Me? Nobody here. Bad shootout six months back. Been closed ever since."
"Not anymore." Fellik snorted. "Look, lady: you've got about thirty seconds before we take this door off its hinges. Open up."
There was a moment's hesitation.
With a petering pop the holoshield fizzled out. There came a rattling of bolts, a slithering of chain and the final heavy scrape of a barricade being removed.
Neera opened the door with a wink, ushering them in.
"One drink." She smiled conspiratorially. "Don't tell the Corp."
Fellik strode into the Mangled Moa, his steel capped boots heavy and predatory. He cast an eye about the place; taking in the wet linoleum floor, the steel bar; the dingy décor. His men filed in behind, making a poor show of disguising their significant armament. The bar became very small all of a sudden.
In the back room, Telin and the boy crouched and waited; ears pressed to the door as they strained to listen. Kelpo breathed softly, sound asleep.
"'preciate the hospitality." Fellik grunted. He was still slowly absorbing the room around him, taking everything in. "Name's Fellik."
"Neera. So what can I get you boys?"
"Paint Thinner. Straight."
"And for the gentlemen?"
They rumbled a collective response.
"Six Paint Thinners, coming up." Neera stepped around behind the bar. "Have a seat."
They sprawled themselves out across the room; some obnoxiously resting their boots up on adjoining stools or propped on tables. It made for a welcome relief from tossing market stalls or shaking down traders.
Beneath the counter was an elegant double barrel shotgun. It had been her father's; an antique donated by a passing trader who fell in love with the Moa. It was loaded, Neera knew that much. Whether it still worked or not was another question entirely.
Not her first strategy.
She set out six shot glasses. Her cleanest.
"Rare to see the One Forty Ones this neck of the woods." Neera was amiable as she poured out each measure in turn. "Thought you boys preferred the western sectors."
"We do. Job has us out here." Fellik took a stool right at the bar. He leered at Neera, never breaking eye contact. Neera met his stare openly as she picked up one of the glasses on the bar, polishing it meticulously. Not her first creepy customer either.
"Tell me about the job." She said.
"Looking for two men. Had a kid with them. Friend of ours places 'em here, not too long ago."
"These people got a name?"
Fellik snapped his fingers and beckoned one of his men forward. Telch slid a data slate across the bar with a gentle scrape. It showed Kelpo and Telin grinning by a small rental speeder. Their first job. Neera knew the picture well; had taken it herself.
A copy of it was on the wall in the back room.
"Oh, him." Neera chuckled to herself. "That's Telin Voss."
"Know him?"
"Yeah. Real piece of work that one." Neera shook her head venomously. "Total scumbag. Talks a big game about getting out of this town but mostly spends his life freezing his skin off in the Frozen Zones."
Telin bristled but the boy shot him a stern look.
"Know where we might find him?" Fellik was asking.
"These days?" Neera shrugged expansively, setting the glass down. "Couldn't tell ya. We're not exactly on speaking terms."
"That so?" Fellik slugged his drink and tapped his glass against the counter top. He slid it over to her.
Neera eyed the glass sceptically.
"All you get is one. I'm not licensed to trade anymore."
"You're not selling me anything, girlie. I'm not paying for it either." Fellik rapped his glass against the counter, insistent now. "Another."
This time it was Telin's turn to glare at the boy. The boy had his rebreather back in place, and a dangerous look in his eye that typically preceded an unwelcome but sudden degree of ultra-violence.
Outside, Neera poured another round. Fellik grunted some semblance of a thank you.
"I'm sure you won't mind if we hang around here. Maybe even take a look around."
"This is my bar. My home. You can stay all you want, even drink for free so it please you. But you don't get to poke around. Not here. There are rules."
A slow, lazy smile spread across Fellik's face.
"That so?" Fellik sneered. "Brewer, go take a look 'round back."
Neera's veneer was beginning to crack. She went pale even though her voice remained even.
"Not sure what you're looking to find. There's nothing there."
Tellik never lost leering glare in his eye. His smile faded entirely.
"We'll be the judge of that."
Brewer was halfway across the room now. Neera took a step back. Her grip tightened on the glass on her hand. Fellik, no stranger to bar fights, saw it immediately.
"Easy now." He warned softly. "Wouldn't want to cause a scene, ruin this little establishment. Would we now?"
"Another word." The boy said quietly. "And I'll make you eat that glass."
The whole room twisted and turned.
The boy stood in the open doorway, hands by his sides; still swathed in the oversized environmental coat. Clutched in one hand was the crude scissors Neera had used to cut Kelpo's bandages. Beyond, Telin stood between them and Kelpo, holding a scalpel up and looking decidedly stricken.
Fellik twisted in his stool, barked a laugh and clapped his meaty hands together.
"And there it is!" Fellik grinned and pushed himself to his feet. The rest of his men went to follow. He waved them down. He held the shot glass up.
"This glass?" Fellik asked. "This glass right here?"
The boy's eyes narrowed over the respirator.
"You heard me."
"That's a nice threat. Gotta borrow it sometime."
"It is not a threat." The boy shook his head emphatically, voice solemn. "A threat would imply a lack of intent, or an inability to enact my stated goal. You are here without invitation. You have abused her hospitality, threatened her establishment. That is undeserving. That is an injustice."
There was a venomous weight to that last word. The boy reached up and unclasped the environmental coat. It fluttered to the floor. His eyes never left Fellik's.
There was something predatory in the boy's stare; cold and calculating, almost lupine in aspect. For the first time in his life Fellik felt a sliver of uncertainty lance through him. He could feel his men staring at him. A lifetime of brawling; of accepting challenges and savagely winning took over. He snarled and brought his fist down toward the boy, glass in hand.
By rights that should have been the end of it. The smash of a glass, a boy unconscious; face down in a pool of blood.
Not so. What actually happened, happened quickly. So quickly in fact that Neera would later have to replay the internal cam footage to quite follow the sequence of events. Even then, reality seemed to break, just a bit.
The boy dashed forward, impossible quick. The scissors flashed. Fellik screeched; hamstrings severed. The shot glass tumbled from his hands. It never hit the floor. Neera blinked and it was gone. Then the boy was on Fellik, legs tangled about his neck, squeezing it in a vicelike grip. Fellik's mouth opened wide choking for air. The boy stuffed something in his mouth, choking him. He twisted his legs tighter.
Fellik's weight gave out as he spun towards the countertop. Face first he struck it, hard. There was a sickening crack and the splintering of glass as he descended. The boy landed in a nimble crouch, unscathed.
He rose to his feet, fixing the rest of the gang with a baleful stare. Fellik lay face down, leg spasming fitfully; blood pouring from his ruined mouth; neck twisted at an impossible angle. The handle or a revolver peaked up from Fellik's belt, within snatching distance.
Nobody moved. Neera could hear the tick and whirr of the respirator from the back room.
"Final warning." The boy announced steadily. "No threats, only promises."
The gang exploded from their seats, scattering furniture in all directions. The revolver was in the boys hand now. He fanned the hammer. Blood spattered the walls as wood splintered and bodies tumbled; crashing through tables. The cylinder spun empty. The boy hurled the gun at the largest encroaching thug like a throwing knife, aimed with lethal precision. The man's nose burst and he went down with a muffled roar, clutching his face.
Two thugs remained. Brewer and Telch had finally drawn. Snarling primitive slug throwers; shotguns both. There was a heavy metal chunk as slides pumped; barrels levelled squarely at the boy. Neera's eyes widened in panic. Levelled squarely at her. She threw herself flat behind the counter.
A seemingly endless deluge of buckshot filled the air. The boy crashed in over the counter top, rolling into a tight ball. Shards of glass showered down, splashing them in all manner of liquor.
Her entire collection went up. A lifetime's supply. Bottle after bottle burst. The Moa '57, an Eidolon Sunrise; even a bootlegged Orokin Dew. Reduced to a tidal wave of booze and glass.
Yelling in rage as much as fear, the thugs emptied every single cartridge they had.
The boy clamped a hand on Neera's shoulder, staring at her. Holding her in place behind the comparative safety of the bar. They each had a hand on the antique piece stored beneath the counter top. He was utterly calm.
Neera was enraged. The boy was waiting.
The barrage abruptly ceased. The thugs' shotguns clacked empty; clicking over and over.
To the boy's shock Neera snarled and shoved him aside. The shotgun was in her hands now.
Two barrels, no lack of intent.
Neera snapped up over the bar. The first barrel sounded like a thunderclap in the confined space. The good news was that the shotgun definitely still worked. The bad news was that the kick of the damned thing nearly dislocated her shoulder. Brewer hit the far wall like a rag doll. Telch sprinted for the exit.
Neera's father trained her well. She swung the shotgun to bear; caressed the secondary trigger. The second barrel took Telch in the small of his back, lifting the thug off his feet and smashing him against the door jamb. He gurgled as he spasmed on the floor, spine severed.
"Good aim." The boy remarked, nodding in approval as he calmly rose to his feet.
Neera's hands were shaking as she lowered the gun.
"You think?"
"Better than his."
Telin stood shaking the back room, the scalpel still in his hand.
"You alright?" he asked her.
"Y-yeah." She nodded. "I think so."
"We need to get out of here." Telin said. "More will be coming. Got a trolley?"
Neera nodded numbly, looking faintly sick.
The bar was a ruin. Bodies, shell casings and splintered furniture carpeted the floor. The bar itself was a sea of broken glass and sopping liquor. Groans filled the air as the wounded clutched their wounds. Gun smoke coiled the air. It was a miracle the place hadn't gone up in flames.
The boy banged a box of spare cartridges on the counter top.
"Load up." The boy told Neera. "You will need these."