The Phantom
Part 1
Captain Falcon isn't just a racer: he's also a skilled fighter; but most importantly, he's a bounty hunter. His acquisitions have ranged from highly skilled assassins, to common crooks. He doesn't care who or what they are, as long as he gets paid. But this next bounty will do more than push him, it will nearly break him.
The Blue Falcon zoomed across the city of Port Town, he was heading home after a very long day. He had been tracking an acquisition since three this morning; after Falcon had found him, the guy had challenged him to a fight. Falcon had won, but that didn't stop his acquisition from trying to run. Unfortunately, that led to high-speed chase around a very busy business section of the city they were in. He had eventually been able to cut him off, getting him neutralized and put in the trunk in the Blue Falcon had proven a bit difficult.
After Falcon had gotten his bounty, he had to make the four-hour flight to Port Town where he would get some rest before an F-Zero race he had late in the night.
Or so he had hoped. Air traffic had been terrible for absolutely no reason; he wanted to avoid it and decided to land the Falcon Flyer outside of town in an airfield many of her inhabitants used, that seemed to be the only thing that went right today.
Falcon pulled into his secret base and stopped. He didn't get out of his machine; but sat there for a few moments, listening to the Blue Falcon's engines cool off.
He was tired and needed rest if he was to participate in the race. One never went to an F-Zero race tired, that was just a guaranteed crash. It was more than necessary to be as alert as possible; just the speed of the races alone was dangerous. Not to mention some of the ninety degree turns and the thirty-nine other racers who would ram into their opponents machine, just to get ahead.
The Captain groaned as he removed his helmet and ran a hand through his sweaty hair, he should have gotten some sleep yesterday; but decided on doing more research instead. That had been a mistake.
He got out of his machine and started walking down the corridor, "Computer, anything happen while I was away?"
"Negative," an animated voice responded.
He sighed as he loosened his scarf, things finally seemed to be taking a turn for the better. A corner of his mouth turned upwards, "Set a timer for 21:30. I don't want to be disturbed until then."
"Affirmative. Setting timer for 21:30. All other actions will be postponed until then."
As he walked into his room, he glanced at the holoclock on his wall; he'd only get a couple hours of sleep, and if he wanted to race. . .He let that thought trail off; it would all depend on how good he was feeling when he woke up.
The tired Captain pulled both sets of his gloves off, put them in his helmet, set them on a dresser, and hung his gun-belt up. He sat down on the edge of his bed, undid his shin-guards and kicked off his boots. Now free from the 'worst' parts of his outfit, he leaned back with a content sigh.
He stretched his six-foot-eight frame across his large bed; he was now comfortable, and he let his body relax. It didn't take long for his mind to follow and drift into a desperately needed sleep.
A sharp beeping noise invaded what was an abnormally peaceful dream. Falcon growled as he opened his eyes and glared at the clock. "Computer, turn that blasted alarm off." He hissed as he sat up, "Why did I set that alarm?"
"Affirmative. Turning off alarm for, 21:30. Reason for setting alarm, unknown."
He continued to growl, "Check my schedule then."
"Affirmative. Checking schedule for, Captain, Falcon. ETA two minuets."
It wouldn't be long before that automated voice started to get on his nerves. He knew he had some serious reprogramming to do.
Falcon rubbed his temples willing his mind to think, he looked up with sudden remembrance, "Cancel checking my schedule, is there an F-Zero race going on soon?"
"Affirmative. Canceling schedule check for, Captain, Falcon." Oh, how much that automated voice was beginning to grate on him. It continued, "Affirmative. Can confirm that the F-Zero racing company is hosting a race at, 2:00, in, Mute City, at the, Casino Nine Track. Racers are required to register one hour before to participate."
He stood up, sighed, and stood in a t-pose, "Scan me and evaluate my condition."
"Affirmative. Scanning, Captain, Falcon, for any anomalies."
Falcon growled as he had to stand there longer than he should have been. He had several algorithms running through his head on how he could improve his computer. "Come on, I don't have time for this.'
"Scan complete. Decreased levels of. . ."
"Don't tell me I need more sleep, because I know I do." He interrupted, "Just tell me if I can race."
"Competing in tonight's F-Zero race is ill advised."
"But can I?"
"Competing in tonight's F-Zero race is ill advised."
"Okay, I get it," he hissed, "notify the F-Zero racing council that I won't be participating in this race." Falcon had completed several bounties that ended up bettering the head of the racing council; in races like this one, they would often hold a slot open for him unless notified.
"Affirmative. Contacting F-Zero racing council." It paused for a moment, "System reboot needed, initialize?"
The Captain sighed and laid back down, "Might as well."
"Affirmative. Initializing system reboot, shutting down."
Once he was awake and actually had energy; one of the first things he would do was redo his computer's vocal processor. He had no intention of falling back asleep; but once he closed his eyes, there was nothing he could do to himself from becoming it's victim.
Instead of a casual beep, a blaring alarm woke him up. He jumped to his feet and took off down the hall, "What in the blazes is that alarm for?!"
"Camera, thirteen a, is blocked," was the computer's simple reply.
Falcon froze, looked down at his bare feet, then at the ceiling, "That alarm for a blocked camera?!"
"Affirmative."
He growled as he stomped back to his room to put his things back on. Mumbling to himself about doing a complete rewrite of the computer program and how long it would take him.
Falcon stormed outside to look at the camera, surprised to find a letter taped to it. He cautiously took it off, "Computer, is camera thirteen a functional?"
"Affirmative."
He walked back inside, and sat down at a large desk. He was more then concerned; no one knew where he lived, so how did this letter—with his initials—end up on one of his cameras?
"Activate main computer interface," he slid the letter under a device, "scan object for any anomalies."
"Affirmative. . ."
Falcon, with some effort, tuned the rest out. He needed to think of how someone could have slipped passed his perimeter undetected. Then it came to him, "Computer, how long did the system reboot take?"
"Calculating. Approximately five point eight minuets."
He let out a defeated sigh, "Not good, not good at all," he muttered to himself as he drummed his fingers on the table.
The computer beeped, "Scan complete. Object contains no anomalies."
There was no other way to find out more, he opened the letter.
To a bounty hunter I once knew,
If you're looking for another bounty,
Then I have the one you're looking for.
A criminal known as The Phantom
Has been at large for years. The reward for his capture will be high,
I have no doubt you will be interested.
~An old friend.
The note ended, but it brought more questions than answers. Falcon sat there deep in thought; who in the galaxy could this have been? He kept himself isolated: he had no friends per-say; sure, there were those that were friendly to him. None of which knew where he lived.
"Computer, pull up all information regarding the criminal, The Phantom."
Information started appearing on the screen, he read through it; not as much as he had been expecting, "Is there anything else?"
"Negative."
Falcon sighed, this info wasn't very helpful. The Phantom had been aptly named; they started off committing petty crimes, but they quickly escalated. They didn't leave any evidence behind, covered their tracks, and knew how to throw bounty hunters and police alike off seemingly easy.
But he wasn't a normal bounty hunter. "Establish link with the Falcon Flyer, begin pre-flight checklist."
"Affirmative. . ."
He again tuned the annoying animated voice out as he walked down the hall; using his large gait to his advantage. It didn't take long for him to reach his garage and get into his machine.
His mind only focused on how the letter had gotten on his camera as he drove to the airport. Whoever had put that their must have been waiting for him; but that would mean this person would have known his perimeter, and when he would be home.
But the thing that bothered him the most, was how the intruder would have know when his system rebooted. His computer was un-hackable, he had made sure of that; he also made sure the timings of the reboot were completely random.
Half-an-hour latter, he pulled into the Flyer, and walked into the cockpit. The little info he had only gave him one place that might give him more information. It was only a rumor, but it was the only lead he had.
Falcon turned the nose of the Flyer towards space; his destination, a space port frequented by the galaxies worst. He had been there multiple times looking for information; so much so, he was a well-known with the bar tender. And as long as he bought a drink, the bar tender would give him all the info he needed.
In another half-an-hour, Falcon landed at the space-port. Many of those who were there gave him suspicious looks: wondering if he was there for business; and if he was, they wondered who had been unlucky enough to end up as his acquisition.
He continued to walk through the space-port, heading to his informants bar, and ignoring the looks he was given. He could care less about what they thought about him; as long as they knew better than to get close. He walked into a bar and took a seat on one of the stools, his normal spot. He knew that his flashy outfit was making him a stark contrast to the gray and black of those around him, that didn't matter to him.
The bar-tender noticed Falcon the second he walked through the door, "Captain Falcon, what brings you back here? More information?"
He nodded and produced a couple credits, "My usual." He waited until he took a sip of the drink before continuing, "Do you know anything about The Phantom?" Falcon asked just above a whisper.
"The Phantom, ay?" the bar-tender chuckled, "Your last bounty wasn't enough money for ya?" another chuckle, "I don't know anything 'cept what you all ready know."
"Fine, tell me where I can find Craton Marks."
"Marks? Ah, yes. I'm only telling you this because you asked; he does have a connection to The Phantom. If I were you I would tread carefully. He lounges on the upper deck around Cravin's BBQ."
Falcon downed the rest of the drink, "Thanks." he said as he stood to leave.
The bar-tender stopped him, "Take care, Captain, The Phantom is very dangerous." He smiled, "Oh, and get some sleep, soon."
He looked at the man. Falcon had known him for a few years now, and the bar-tenders perceptiveness still surprised him. He offered a slight smile, "Sure thing." He turned back around and left.
The upper deck was where the higher-end crooks normally stayed. Falcon normally avoided this part unless he was bringing in an acquisition. These crime lords didn't like a bounty hunter of his standing snooping around and Falcon generally ended up paying much more for information.
And he hated that.
The Captain stormed through promenade, those around him jumped out of his way. He was notorious for being more than good at his job, those of the criminal underworld had learned to fear him.
Finding Craton couldn't have been easier, "Craton Marks," his deep voice carried to the ears they we're intended for.
A rather overweight man turned, "Yes." The color drained from the his face as Falcon moved closer; what could a bounty hunter of the Captain's reputation want with him? "Uh, C-captain Falcon! W-what can I do for you."
Falcon towered over the man, "I need to talk with you, alone" the tone he used left no room for debate.
"All right, uh, this way." They walked into a supply closet several feet away, "Okay, uh, what about?"
"The Phantom. You have intel I need; now talk."
Craton coughed nervously, "W-what do you want to know?"
With a hard glare he was known for, Falcon looked down at the cowering man, "Everything and anything you can tell me, don't leave out a detail. Even if it doesn't seem significant." He leaned over slightly, "And don't even think about lying or hiding something from me, because I will find out."
That was all it took for Craton to spill his guts out; the last thing he wanted was to make this powerful bounty hunter not like him. The fear of whatever The Phantom would do to him never once crossed his mind.