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  #1  
04-10-2010, 09:26 AM
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Wired Bounty Hunter - Sci-fi Human Adventure

Now that I've once more figured out how to make a thread, I'm going to begin a non-Oddworld story. One about bounty hunters. Ones who totally kick rear. And have laser guns. What's better than a story with laser guns?
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  #2  
04-10-2010, 03:38 PM
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Chapter 1

Evers had decided to remain in the base that day. Feet kicked up on his desk, bottle of some always-popular liquor in hand, he stared at the holographic screen of his computer. It had all the information he could ever want about targets—which was why the bounty hunter was constantly thanking fortune for giving someone the idea, hundreds of years ago, for making computers.

They had come in handy on so many of the bounties he’d undertaken.

He took another sip of the drink in his hand; it sent a warm tingle down his spine, even after all these years. He could vaguely remember a time when the alcohol permit was at age twenty-one—what an extreme!—before it had come down to eighteen. Of course, he had begun drinking a second after his eighteenth birthday.

He sighed; that was back when he’d been a normal young man, and not a bounty hunter. Back when he’d had a family who loved him…

“And…anything on Family Harvin?” he queried, not out of expecting to see his family information, but just out of curiosity.

The computer’s monotonic voice replied: “Why, certainly, master. The Family Harvin has just become established as one of the leading families on Metropolita.”

Evers leaned forward in surprise. “Really?”

“Sir, my data files are complete and accurate. I am programmed not to bring information to your hearing if it is any less than 75% probable. It is real.”


The man smiled. “Sometimes I wish you computers had sarcasm. Do you know what that is?”

“Of course I know what that is. I am programmed to—”

“—to know everything this world has to offer,” Evers finished. “You said that a million times. Bring up the information on Family Harvin. I want to see how the family’s getting on.”

“As you wish, master.”

Evers took another drink of his liquor. His own brothers, sisters, aunts and uncles, perhaps even his mother, as part of the leading families on Metro-polita? Part of the most esteemed group of people on the largest island city in the world? It was so hard to believe that such a small-time farming family could grow to such high esteem…
The holoscreen flickered and went out; instants later, a new file came up in front of him, titled FAMILY HARVIN. Evers pulled his legs off the desk, set his drink down beside the holoprojector, and leaned forward to stare into the screen’s holographic depths.
Pictures of his family in high-class clothing, with bright clean smiles on their faces, stared out at him.

“If…if I hadn’t left them to become what I am,” Evers whispered, eyes taking in the information, “I could have become part of the leading families. I could have been part of the wealth, if it hadn’t been for him driving me off the Harvin estate—”

Thinking of the one who had sent him away made him clench one fist. “Is my father—I, I mean, is there a ‘Rikkum Harvin’ in that group?”

“Beginning search………No, master. No files entitled Rikkum Harvin can be found.”


The bounty hunter ran his fingers through his hair. “That’s good. If he was ever in one of the leading families, the world wouldn’t be the same. The world wouldn’t have any peace at all.”

A small jingling noise made him whirl around in his chair to face the excessively padlocked entrance. The small red light above the door bleeped on and off, which meant that someone was approaching. Here in the bounty hunter base, one of the most secret locations in the world, that meant it could only be another bounty hunter.

That wasn’t entirely comforting; Evers was the most mild-tempered of his profession, or so the boss had said.

“Camera on,” he said. The holoscreen swiftly changed to a view of the hallway just outside the door, a hallway lined with other, identical, doors that also housed a dangerous bounty hunter. Names were inscribed above those doors to indicate whose room someone would be forced to intrude upon if the need arose.

Evers breathed out in relief. He knew this bounty hunter.

“Unlock the door,” he ordered, and the small yellow light beside the metal door switched to blue.

The bounty hunter stood and moved over to the door. He tapped one small button to slide the thick metal plate aside, and was instantly confronted with a familiar face.

“Ferus,” Evers greeted with false delight. “How absolutely wonderful to see you again!”

The massive bounty hunter shrugged muscular shoulders. “Yeah, and after such a long time—like, last week.” His thick baritone voice wasn’t very friendly, and his craggy face promised death to anyone he didn’t like, but he had worked with Evers for nine months now, and Evers feared nothing but his drunken rage.

Evers punched him in the arm in a friendly manner. “You’ve finally caught on.”

Evers swept a hand inside his apartment, but the bigger man remained outside, folding his arms across his broad chest. “The boss wants to see us,” Ferus informed him. “In his office.”

Evers’ friendly smile faded. “That means it’s top secret…which means it’s a big assignment.”

“Which means it’ll be a load of fun!” Ferus predicted with a broad grin. “Come on—you know how much we enjoyed that mission to Thornail. The snipers on every rooftop…”

The younger bounty hunter rubbed his fingers together. “Ferus, that was six months ago. Since then we’ve been getting all the nasty jobs—going through a cramped sewer pipe twice, just to steal some stupid info tablet isn’t exactly my idea of fun.”

“Sewer missions are a necessity,” the bigger man joked. “Ever play a shooter game without one?”

Evers consulted his childhood memories for an answer. They were a poor family, working hard to gain money for food and clothing, so he hadn’t played very many of those ever-popular shooter games. “I…I only had two, and both of them had sewer levels.”

“You see?” Ferus chuckled. “They’re a necessity! I had eight of those, and every single one of them had a sewer level.”

“Well, just because little kids like to play through the sewers does not mean I like to actually crawl through them,” Evers groaned. “I mean, who’d want to be down there with all that sewage…”

Ferus suddenly looked grim. “We don’t pick the jobs, Evers. We just carry them out.”

Evers tried to pull out a smile, but it was a weak one. “That’s what we live by. And…I can really see why that client didn’t want to go through the sewer pipes. Even I didn’t want to go through them, even if the bounty was so high.”

Ferus grinned again. “Yeah. Demen even lost his pocket hologame in a sewage tank. He didn’t get it out again.”

Evers waved a hand at the door. “Well, let’s go…the boss never likes to be kept waiting.”
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  #3  
04-12-2010, 07:49 AM
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Cool sounds like a good start to a story
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Oh yeah, fair point. Maybe he was just tortured until he lost consciousness.

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  #4  
04-12-2010, 10:49 AM
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Chapter 2

The inner hallways of the bounty hunter base were lined with doors—some of them locked, some open. Only the left hallway of the star-shaped fortress contained bounty hunter apartments, and the other hallways were taken up by lobbies, recreational areas, the battle arena, the training room, the kitchen, the slave quarters, and at the far end of the longest hallway, the personal chamber of Damidh Kash.

No one knew much about Damidh Kash. The bounty hunter leader had decided a long time ago that he was going to appear an elusive figure, one the world would just respect and fear. And his plan had succeeded: the name of Damidh Kash was one spoken in the shadows in alleyways as a name people should avoid saying, lest it brought a curse on the whole city. All anyone out of the bounty hunters organization knew about Damidh Kash was that he was the commander of the hunters and that he was a powerful being no one could ever defeat.

Evers had been with the bounty hunters two years now, and even now he didn’t know much about the legendary boss. He didn’t know very much about what his leader looked like, let alone what he fought like or acted like. Kash demanded respect and obedience, and nearly by his reputation alone, he got his wish. So far, only a few bounty hunters had dared try to take over the organization from him, and their skeletons were still hanging just outside the front door.

The huge door at the end of the hallway was heavily guarded: a pair of electric turrets extended from the ceiling, and spread out around them were a series of viewcams watching the hallway. A small, glowing pad was set just three meters in front of the doorway; Evers knew its function perfectly well. You had to stand on the pad to activate the door chime. If Kash wanted you to enter, he would unlock the door; if he didn’t want you to enter, the turrets would give you a sharp zap. If you were a threat, those turrets would pump enough electricity into your bloodstream that at once your heart would stop beating.

There were also two guards standing two meters in front of the glowing pad: two burly men wearing concealing combat armor made to resist all shots up to tank-barrel size. Each of them held a powerful lava axe—the poleaxes’ heads glowed with bright red energy, an interior power source making them hot enough to cut through almost anything in mere seconds, including people they didn’t like.

“Evening, gents,” Evers greeted as they walked past.

The guards, as was their grim nature, said nothing.

Ferus walked past him and stepped boldly onto the glowing green pad. A small, rather delightful little tune started playing in the hallway, informing Damidh Kash that they had arrived for the mission briefing. Evers knew that this meeting with their boss could only mean a mission briefing, because they were never just let into his office for a social call.

Evers glanced at the little yellow light beside Kash’s door as it flashed to blue. There was an internal clicking sound from somewhere in the door’s mechanisms, and the thick twin doors slid sideways into the wall, granting the two bounty hunters access to the inner lair of Damidh Kash, the infamous bounty hunter leader.

Evers glanced at Ferus. “You first.”

The big bounty hunter snorted, and moved forward. “Scaredy-weasel, aren’t you?”

“No,” the younger man replied with a sly smile, as he followed his big companion into the room beyond. “Just making sure I never turn my back on you,” he said as the door slid shut.

Evers had only been inside their boss’s chamber twice before—first of all upon application to become one of the feared profession, secondly when he and the other five in his team had been called in for an important mission to Thornail. It didn’t cease to amaze him.

It was a strange room, to be sure—the small projector in the ceiling had cast tiny lights around the room, the sole illumination, and those lights spun and whirled to some detailed algorithm within the projector’s digitized brain. The contrast of the lights only made the shadows in the room deeper, so the furnishings were difficult to make out. He could see the four plasma turrets in the ceiling above, and the chairs arranged in front of the tall desk at the back of the room.

Behind that desk sat Damidh Kash.

All Evers could see of his boss was a tall silhouette of a man behind the desk, wearing a battered hat of indistinguishable make. The face was just a shadow.

Ferus dipped his head briefly. He then whispered “Damidh Kash,” as if it were a religious ritual.

The bounty hunter leader leaned back in his chair. “Finally, you’re here.” The voice was neither deep nor cold, it was simply dangerous. “I was almost afraid you’d forget, Ferus.”

The big man sighed. “I’d hoped you’d forgotten that.”

“I am not a man to forget things, Ferus. One does not remain great if he lets his guard down.”

“Yes, sir.” Ferus bowed his head. Evers looked sideways at his partner strangely; it was quite odd to see the huge, normally impulsive bounty hunter so subdued.

Kash put dark fingers together with a small clacking sound. “I’ve only called you here because neither of you has purchased the Encrypter 4200. If you had seen fit to get that upgrade, I might have deemed it safe enough to simply send the message over the Data Web.”

Evers nodded slowly. “Yes…but it was more expensive than either of us could afford—”

“—because I don’t pay you enough?” Damidh Kash finished quietly. “Perhaps if you upgraded your combat skills, I would send you on far more missions, and you would have the cash to buy it. Ferus, I’ve sent you on so many missions; you should have that by now.”

“I…I spend a lot of money on drinks down at the bar,” the bigger man admitted.

“I know that. You know that. We all know that. You just don’t know you need to stop.” Kash leaned forward. “Do you need a…lesson…that will constantly remind you?”

“No sir.”

“Excellent.” Their leader stretched himself out in his chair once more. “We have just received an offer, from a source whose name I will not reveal at this time, for a very special task. It requires all six of you Destroyers to go to Metropolita.”

Evers blinked; he’d just been reading up on Metropolita this afternoon. “Metropolita?” he repeated.

“Yes, can’t you hear me?” The boss folded his fingers together. “To Metropolita. One of their Leading Families is taking over the Metro Government there, and is causing a good deal of trouble to some of the big businessmen. Apparently some of them are cutting off trade routes, forcing many to come to Metropolita to purchase their goods. And apparently one of these men whose trade routes has been closed down is willing to pay a kingly sum to have that Leading Family assassinated.”

Ferus’ eyes widened. “An assassin job? Demen’s gonna love this to death.”

Their boss smiled—an almost imperceptible motion. “He has already been briefed on the mission, and has already been…forcibly reminded not to express such pleasure.”

Evers and Ferus traded a glance. “Oh.”

“This is not going to be an easy assignment,” Kash informed them. “As such, the kingly sum. As the total is $300,000,000, this will entitle each of you to $20,000,000.”

Ferus grinned and rubbed his hands together. “I’m already looking forward to it.”

“Don’t make me activate the electric turrets,” the bounty hunter leader warned. “Demen’s already sporting a sore butt.”

The big man immediately stopped rubbing his hands, and resumed his grim expression.

“In order to properly assassinate this Leading Family,” Kash said, “you will all need to remain undercover. We want it to remain mysterious exactly who killed them—because, apparently, this businessman also has the dollars to sponsor a cleverly-devised war.”

“One in which we’ll remain safely neutral,” Evers guessed.

“Precisely. We have agents working in some of the bars around. They will recognize you and give you the necessary information for this task when you find them. The bars you’ll need to search are the Lucky Penny and the Eggless Hen. And, because you’re going to be undercover, no combat armor is allowed.”

Ferus winced. “No combat armor! But I—”

Kash’s shadowy finger moved over a glowing button on his desk that read TURRET CONTROL, and Ferus’ mouth snapped shut like a nutcracker. All knew what would happen if any annoyed their boss beyond the acceptable level, which would only give that offender an electric shock. So far, during the length of the three meetings, Evers had been lucky enough to avoid any shocks, due to his quiet nature.

“Are we supposed to bring any specific weapons?” Evers questioned. “Anything special?”

“Nothing big,” Kash informed him, and Ferus was wise enough to keep his mouth shut. “You’re just going to appear rougher visitors, and not some of my best bounty hunters. Pistols are good. Small grenades are good. I’ve already informed Venin of the acceptable tools, so he can tell you before you select your inventory.”

“Yes, sir,” both bounty hunters said simultaneously.

Kash leaned back in his chair. “You’re dismissed…and don’t fail me. Twenty million dollars hang in the balance for each of you. Don’t make me get rid of you.”

Evers and Ferus nodded. The younger bounty hunter could once more feel the thrill of a new quest coming over him, as he turned towards the door. An undercover assassin assignment! What could possibly be better to escape the gloomy feelings that came after a boring sewer mission? What better way to practice his combat skills than in a mission that could force them to shoot their way out if everything started to fall? What else could lift him higher in the eyes of Damidh Kash than this?

He paused halfway through the door, as he suddenly remembered one detail he had forgotten to ask. He turned back around to regard his boss, and said, “I forgot to ask you…”

The boss waved a hand. “Who is the Leading Family that you’re going to assassinate?”

Evers nodded. “Exactly.”

Kash smiled, revealing teeth that glinted as one of the tiny lights passed over them. “I’d hoped you’d ask. You see, Evers, I enjoy dealing out pain, whether through my guns, my minions, or through the barrel of my gun. So listen closely.”

Evers felt a sinking feeling in his gut, as Damidh Kash folded his hands on the desk. “You’re to assassinate Family Harvin.”
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  #5  
04-14-2010, 06:30 PM
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Chapter 3

“This is impossible,” Evers said bluntly. “I can’t do it.”

Venin shook his head slowly. “You don’t have a choice in the matter, Evers. We carry out our orders.”

Evers looked up painfully at his group leader. Venin was probably the most skilled gunman he had ever met, and, combined with his tactical mind, Venin’s skills had made him leader of the Destroyers. The man was tall and unusually thin, with reflexes that seemed faster than the speed of light. Their leader’s face was twisted in an expression of disgust, probably disgust at the young member’s weakness.

“They’re my family,” Evers said.

We’re your family now,” Venin said, his voice still uncomfortably like that of a snake. “Whoever this Family Harvin was, you chose to detach your-self from them and become one of us. When you swore the Bounty Hunter’s Oath, you swore to carry out all your tasks without showing favoritism. Can you recite that oath to me now?”

The young bounty hunter gritted his teeth; the memory came swiftly to mind after all the times Ferus had beat it into his head. “I am Bounty Hunter; I know no family, nor do I know love. I do not show compassion; I show my gun barrel. I have no hate; my only feelings are to carry out my client’s wish without weakness.”

Venin smiled. “I’m glad you remember.”

“You wouldn’t let me forget,” Evers pointed out. “I need to remember, if I am to be a true bounty hunter.”

The squad leader folded his arms across his skinny chest. “Listen. You have been working with the squad for nine months now, Evers. You aren’t a weakling anymore. You’ve killed without regret. But now, at first mention of your family…”

Evers gritted his teeth. “Did you ever have to confront your family at gunpoint? And pull the trigger?”

“I killed them all without remorse. It was my entrance fee.”

The young man let out his breath slowly between his teeth. “You’re a stronger man than I am, Venin. That’s why you’re group leader. That’s why you’ve killed so many men.”

“I’m glad you respect me…” Venin pointed to the weapon rack. “And that’s why you’ll obey.”

Evers moved past him to the weapon rack. There were so many pistols arrayed before him, many of them locked with a retinal scan to protect from a possible thief, but Evers already knew what he wanted. His father’s guns: a pair of long-barreled precision pistols. Nothing fancy, nothing too powerful, just a pair of weapons he had stolen from the farmhouse on the night he had left home.

Demen stood nearby; the fierce fighter had a strangely boyish face, and a tendency to be overenthusiastic in everything. “I thought you left home to join us because you hated your family,” Demen said. “At least, you told me that when you arrived. Maybe your mind’s changed…must’ve been that one shot to the head—”

“I came here because of my father,” Evers grunted. “My mother, my brothers, my sister, they all loved me. I was the eldest…But my father said I had to work harder than anyone. He said that, after all he had done for me—which, by the way, was nothing—that I should start doing half of the work on the farm. And when I kept going at my normal pace, he said I was lazy. That last night I was there, I had been working in the fields almost all day, and he wasn’t pleased with how well I had done the crop…He started swearing at me, cursing at me…”

The memory stung at him, and his face turned red. He tried to turn his face away before Demen could see, but the other bounty hunter had already noticed.

Aawww, is the poor bounty hunter crying?” Demen taunted. “You’re unbelieveable, Evers. I thought you actually had some potential there…but I guess even I can make mistakes once in a whi—”

Evers didn’t know how it happened. He didn’t even intend to move, but he did. His clenched right fist swung out like the end of a hammer, and it connected with the nail that was Demen’s head with enough strength to send the other bounty hunter staggering. The formerly laughing man stumbled for three steps backward, and then tripped over his own foot and came crashing to the floor.

Evers stood over him, both fists clenched, anger hissing from between his teeth. “Don’t…insult…me.”

A hand was laid on his shoulder, cold and threatening. Evers knew in an instant who it was: Grav, the team sniper. Grav had never laughed, ever smiled, during the whole time Evers had known him; the tall warrior sniped, slashed, and blasted men with little or no emotion at all. Grav didn’t find the wild joy that Demen got from killing, nor did he feel it as justified by pay, as Venin did.

“Evers. He’s learned his lesson. Let him go.”

Evers turned his head to look Grav full in the cold eye. “He insulted me. I intend to make sure he pays.”

“And he will,” the sniper said. “One way or another. But you’re one of us; we can’t have dissension within the team or this whole mission will fall apart.”

Demen scrambled to his feet; fire flashed in his eyes. “I don’t need to be ‘let go’! I need to let this fist smash your face in!”

Evers smiled. “Bring it on.”

Demen moved forward, one arm drawn back for a powerful blow—and a laser flashed through the air between them, so close that both Demen and Evers stumbled back in surprise. Both of them turned to see Ferus holding a huge pistol on both of them.

“Stop this,” Ferus said. “Now.”

Venin strolled forward until he stood between the two of them. “Grav is right. Much as I would like to see Evers paste Demen’s face in—” he held a pause long enough for Demen to growl—“we can’t have us fighting each other, not when we’re about to start our most important mission yet. Twenty million credits—”

“Hang in the balance,” Evers finished, and unclenched his fist.

Grav twirled a scoped pistol around one finger. “And if we have to put smoking holes through some peoples’ dumb heads, that only means more for the rest of us.”

Evers looked at that pistol as it spun. The pistol was a deadly sniping pistol, a pistol that could actually manage a balance between long range and power without overheating and exploding: add a long barrel and a very good power pack. It couldn’t fire very fast at all—only about a shot for every ten seconds—but it was a very powerful weapon. He knew Grav wasn’t joking, because the sniper never joked. And Grav was perfectly willing to pull that trigger on them if it endangered the mission; Grav and Venin, as partners, had gone through a dozen other partners through the years, killing those whose weaknesses could possibly keep them from accomplishing their mission. It was a fine line Evers walked as one of the Destroyers, with Venin and Grav as teammates.

Demen sighed as he unclenched his fist. “Ahh, too bad. These little babies have been so bloodthirsty these last few days…”

Venin grinned. “Don’t worry, Demen. You’ll get your share of blood on this mission…cauterized, of course. We’ll doubtlessly have to take down some guards along with the Harvin Family.”

Evers sucked in a deep breath at the mention of his family name. He’d thought that, when he left home a year ago to become a bounty hunter, that he would never hear the name Harvin again, except when his full title was being addressed. And now, after today, the name Harvin would only be used to tell of how they had been assassinated as an act of war against Metropolita, for a currently-anonymous sponsor.

This is just unbelievable, Evers thought. I’m killing my own family, for twenty million dollars. Is it worth it to kill my own family? Is it worth it to be a bounty hunter, if this is what it brings—guilt?

He slowly let that breath out. He couldn’t keep feeling this way if ever he was to be a true bounty hunter. After this, surely he would be a true man, established forever as one of the mighty organization. At age twenty-one, an infamous bounty hunter.

And yet, even though he regarded the pay with longing and the fame as something wonderful, Evers couldn’t tell if he was proud of himself, or just as disgusted as his father had been of him. Was he really the kind of garbage his father had said he was? Or was he the bounty hunter he had been trying to be for the last year?

He walked forward and took his father’s LL-J9 pistols and shoved the weapons into their holsters at his side, then turned and left the armory. Evers blankly hoped that Demen didn’t start saying ridiculous things about him as soon as his back was turned.
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04-24-2010, 09:56 AM
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Evers sat at his desk once more, his fingers idly tapping at the butts of both pistols shoved in his holsters. His father’s guns—the things his father loved as much as or more than he had loved his own firstborn. The things Evers had decided would take the most from his father, along with the lack of work around the farm that his absence left. They were a very reliable pair of guns, not very powerful but always accurate, and Evers had used them on each of his missions.

But this time, he wasn’t alone. Ferus stood at the other end of the room from him, which was only about two meters due to the restrictive size of the apartment. Bounty hunters might have a lot of money from their missions, a lot of fine weapons, but they certainly had their restrictions…at least, when in the service of Damidh Kash. Evers had just heard about the power of Kash, and had simply signed up as soon as he found bounty hunter recruiters in one of the local bars.

“Listen, Evers,” the big man grunted. “You have to get over this. You are trying to be a bounty hunter. This could be the test which defines if you truly are worthy.”

“I can be worthy,” Evers growled. “It’s just a dozen people in this big world I’m not ready to kill…and they turn out to be the dozen people I have to kill to be worthy.”

“That’s probably why Kash is giving you this assignment,” Ferus said hopefully.

“More than that: it’s definitely why he’s giving me this assignment!”

Ferus narrowed his eyes. “Don’t say anything against Damidh Kash. He’s probably got hidden cameras in here that are recording everything you and I are saying.”

“Right…” Evers bowed his head. “I need to do this.”

“Not only because you need to prove yourself, but also ‘cause Kash is going to kill you if you don’t do it.”

“Yeah,” Evers remembered. “He doesn’t take too kindly to failure in his organization, does he?”

The huge bounty hunter shrugged. “Probably because if you fail your test, he thinks you’re too weak to stay in his organization. It would be bad to have a group of weaklings as the Bounty Hunter League, wouldn’t it? Full of weak twerps.”

Evers held up one clenched fist. “Are you trying to say that I’m a weak twerp?”

“If you don’t just straighten up about this whole thing,” Ferus grunted. “I’ve tolerated you these past months just because Damidh Kash shoved you on me. Not because I like you, not because I saw something in you. It’s just because the boss told me to work with you, and because I’m not going to go against the boss’s orders.”

The younger man nodded slowly. “Got it.”

Evers returned his attention to the computer screen in front of him, and said, “Bring up that information on Metropolita again, ExEff.”

“As you wish, master.”

The holoscreen faded away into the air, and the XF computer projected a new display. He looked at the lines of information more curiously than he had done earlier that day, because this information could be crucial to this all-important mission.

Metropolita: Metropolita, pronounced Mehh-trow-poll-it-uh, formerly Polis Archaia (name changed 4566) is an enormous city completely covering the island of the same name. The population covers between 5 and 6 million; the last federal survey in 4671 established the population at 5,657,091, and with the current rate of population growth the expected approximate population is at 5,901,677.

The established leadership on Metropolita is a series of elected families who make joint decisions based upon what will be the best for the citizens in the long run. The election of these citizens is decided by the people as to the simplest folk who have need of the prestige and wealth, who are also capable of making logical decisions. The terms of these Leading Families last a span of ten years, but the prestige from being one of the ruling families lasts a lifetime. The same families are not allowed to rule twice. Up to five Leading Families may rule at one time. If the decisions of one Leading Family grows contrary to the expectations and benefit of the people, the people may chose to impeach that family, and have them removed from office.


Evers stared at the screen incredulously. The simplest folk who have need of the prestige and wealth, who are also capable of making logical decisions. His family had been poor, of course, and they probably could use the wealth also, but the thought of them being responsible for the fate of almost six million people was staggering. Evers had thought, back when he left his home for this remote sanctuary, he had thought becoming one of the hunters would bring him power, but simply by being simple, his family had gained a huge island to rule!

And I could’ve had it all if I hadn’t taken my father’s words so deeply, he growled to himself. Well, at least he isn’t one of the Leading Family…I hope he’s dead by now.

Ferus glanced at the screen. “So…the best way to get inside would be to go via the UltraRefine Air Taxi, to, uh…lemme see…to Colva Station. A huge port area on the western coast.”

Evers nodded. “If this information is correct, the—”

The monotonic voice of XF replied, “I am absolutely certain that this information is correct, master. I am programmed not to bring information to your hearing if it is any less than 75% probable.”

The bounty hunter grinned; the mechanical reply, which he had heard so many times before, seemed to relieve some of the tension he felt after the past year of hearing it whenever he said something that questioned the truth of XF’s information. He needed something to get the tension off his mind in such a questioning time for him.

The small bleeping noises from the doorway alerted him to someone’s presence, and he turned. “Unlock the door.”

“As you wish, master.”

Evers motioned to the door. “Ferus, let him in.”

The big man slapped carelessly on the opening mechanism, and the tiny door slid aside. Demen stood in the doorway, a derisive smile on his face as he said, “It’s time to go.”

The youngest of the bounty hunters nodded slowly. “Time to go…fine, then.”

Demen swept a hand toward the hallway. “I’m glad you’re so prepared to shoot some loving siblings.”

Ferus chuckled darkly. “Demen, let me be frank with you. If you were not part of our team, I would bash your head in.”

The irritating man just shrugged. “But I am one of the team, aren’t I? I can shoot practically anyone, can’t I? You won’t find a quicker draw in the world than I am.”

“If I had the money, and if you weren’t part of the team, I’d take that bet,” Evers said.

Demen shrugged. “Fine. Your sentiments are your own…and, by the way, Venin says to come now, not tomorrow.”
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  #7  
04-30-2010, 10:12 AM
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STM
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At first I couldn't get into this Stan but now I'm ready to see it through, it's really good!!!!!!
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Oh yeah, fair point. Maybe he was just tortured until he lost consciousness.

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  #8  
05-04-2010, 01:03 PM
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Lord Stanley
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Chapter 5

Evers followed Ferus and Demen out to the landing area of the island. Since the bounty hunter base had a disguise shield over it, the invisible field which could only be seen from above gave their island the appearance of the rest of the oceans around it. There was also a security field which prevented almost anything from entering or exiting, and permission had to be obtained for any ship to go through that field.

On missions where it had just been him and Ferus, Evers had flown one of the ultrafast fighter jets, two-seater planes that were built for speed and for small-time Air-to-Air combat than for passengers or for battle against giant battle cruisers. But on missions where all six Destroyers were required, they flew in a small twenty-person shuttle built more for transporting than for AA combat or speed.

As Evans stepped out into the landing area, he couldn’t understand why the Destroyers’ reputations didn’t work here. They were one of the greatest bounty hunter teams—or so Damidh Kash had said—but somehow they had ended up with the lousiest ship available: the Cookycutter. Ferus had named it after he’d ended up slashing their cook in half with an energy sword before their first mission in the shuttle. Cookycutter was a thirty-year-old cut-down freighter with upgraded engines and shields, a booster system that was on the verge of failure, a defense turret that was as much a hood ornament as it was defensive, and stabilizers that worked about as well as their retro-rocket system.

The young bounty hunter sighed as their battered old ship came in view ahead. “Same old piece of junk,” he whispered. “Same old malfunctions all over again…”

He glanced sideways at another ship, a sleek, streamlined craft built for just one bounty hunter. Evers looked wistfully at the curved lines and sharp bow of the vessel, the twin set of plasma cannons built into the sides. Evers knew the ship was the famous Flamethrower, the personal vessel of the great bounty hunter Bondik Sarkin.

Evers pointed toward the fine aircraft. “Why couldn’t we end up with something like that?”

Demen grinned. “Maybe ‘cause Angor would crash it, and then Kash would have to spend a million dollars on another one. He can trust the great Bondik Sarkin to fly straight.”

“Maybe I could tell Angor you said that,” Ferus suggested cheerfully. “And he’d knock you out.”

“I’d like to see him try,” Demen sneered.

“Good,” Evers volunteered. “If you’re so eager for the confrontation, I can tell him as soon as the journey starts.”

“You do that,” the irritating bounty hunter growled, “and I’ll paste you as soon as I deal with him.”

“Deal with Angor?” Ferus snorted. “You really are crazy, Demen. I’m guessing, then, you didn’t see that part of the sewer mission where he threw a fit and split those two guys’ skulls by slamming their heads together? Oh, it must have been when you were looking for your pocket hologame in that big sewage tank.”

Demen slapped him in the side, hissing “Will you just shut up about that hologame?!”

“Not if I can still get vengeance on you for all the times you’ve bugged me,” the big man returned equally.

Evers stood still and watched the short man’s face twist with a mixture of emotions—so many emotions, in fact, that his face was getting pulled four or five different directions—which, combined, made Demen funny for once, even if it wasn’t on purpose. Evers turned away so the small man wouldn’t see him smiling.

And as he turned away, he caught the glint of something metal. Metal in a landing area would normally not be so conspicuous, but when it moved across that landing deck on two legs, that meant it had to be another hunter, in combat armor. Many bounty hunters wore combat armor, since it provided good protection from laser blasts and kept other people from punching, but it also stood out. Sometimes that was a good thing, and sometimes—like this mission—it wasn’t.

Evers looked in that direction, and he blinked. He blinked again, for it wasn’t every day that he saw someone walking toward the sleep shape of the Flamethrower with intent to fly it. He nudged Ferus in the arm, and the big man turned.

“Bondik Sarkin,” Ferus whispered, and again his awed tones reminded Evers of some ritual.

The bounty hunter was practically a legend for his everything. He had the finest set of combat armor available—a suit of battered red, faded to pink, with a thin black visor for his HUD system was his trademarked appearance, and it was in that famous suit he walked across the platform now. His gun was nothing fancy, just a medium-capacity carbine, or so it appeared on the outside. Evers had heard tales of how it also contained a small cable launcher and a tiny flamethrower. Bondik’s shooting skills were supposed to be the best in the world, and his piloting skills were enviable. Altogether, he was a model of what Evers hoped to be.

“I hope he’s not going to Metropolita for our mission,” Demen said, as they watched Bondik climb the ladder to the cockpit of Flamethrower. “He’s in combat armor…and I really, really wouldn’t like to be the one to tell him no combat armor.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Ferus grunted. “Kash wouldn’t send Bondik on our mission…unless he wanted us dead.”

“Maybe he does.”

“Why would he want to get rid of the greatest team of bounty hunters he’s got?” Ferus snorted. “Kash sees potential in us. He’s kept Venin and Grav on hand nine years. I’ve been here six years. Learned a lot in my time. Angor’s been on four years.”

“And how many has Bondik been here?” Demen demanded. “Fourteen years! Longer than any of us. He’s done more bounties, all by his lonesome, he’s got the ship, the armor, the weapons…”

Evers shrugged. “Well, apparently we’ve got to wait our turn for fame. C’mon, if we’re going to go to Metropolita, we need to get on the shuttle, or they’ll leave us behind.”

“And then they’d get our pay!” Demen said with mock indignation, as he jogged across the landing deck toward the battered old Cookycutter. “And we must protect our money!”

Venin and Grav were already standing at the foot of the boarding ramp. Apparently they had been there a while, because Venin had his arms folded and was tapping his foot; Grav, as usual, showed no emotion at all. Both of them had worked together as a team for years, before Ferus and Angor were added to their group. Later Demen and Evers had joined up, at separate times of course.

“You certainly took your time,” Venin remarked coldly. “I thought I’d said Today, not tomorrow.”

“You did,” Ferus replied. “Demen told us that…then he went on to be a pain with his verbal abuse.”

“I don’t have the time to hear about it,” Venin snapped. He waved one hand to the ramp. “In with you. All of you.”

Evers didn’t stop to argue with their squad leader. He knew he had to be partially responsible for the delay in their arrival, since he had felt a need to argue with Demen, and arguing with Demen was usually a lost cause. The short fellow could always think of some witty or just some stupid reply at all times, even when shooting.

So, as Demen stopped to bandy words with the impassive Grav, Evers boarded the Cookycutter. For all its faults—and there were a lot of them—the old shuttle had managed to keep itself together on all of their teamworked missions, despite the threat of enemy fire and desperate maneuvers. It was as if he had just walked inside an old acquaintance…an acquaintance he would like to exchange.

The room just inside the boarding ramp was arranged just like a normal passenger bus, with the customary rows of seats for the nonexistent travelers. Through a small aft doorway was the cargo compartment, just in case they’d been assigned to haul some illegal weaponry or the like. Through the door on the other side of the room was the cockpit, the head of the Cookycutter. The bounty hunter moved immediately toward the cockpit, as the others followed up the ramp.

The cockpit was a complicated two-seater; their pilot, Angor, already sat in the seat on the left. The co-pilot, Grav, followed him into the spacious cockpit area and plunked himself down in the seat on the right.

Angor was even bigger than Ferus, both in height and weight, and those huge muscles could knock somebody’s brains out with ease. Combined with Angor’s ferocious temper, more skulls had been knocked in than would seem probable. Their pilot was an excellent pilot, probably better than the mighty Bondik himself, but flying the shuttle made his skills obsolete. Angor was an important piece to the puzzle that was the Destroyer band, but he had no one as a friend except himself.

“What do you want?” Angor snapped.

“I wanted to watch,” Evers replied. “Plus, I need to brush up on my piloting skills.”

“You can’t fly.”

Evers smiled. “That’s exactly why.”

“This isn’t a pleasure trip,” the huge bounty hunter growled. “You’re a nuisance to the piloting crew.”

Grav raised a hand. “Seconded.”

Angor grinned wolfishly. “The motion is carried unanimously. Evers, stay here…but you aren’t going to fly. Watch the master at work, and keep shut up.”

The youngest of the group didn’t argue. Arguing with Angor was just as pointless as a debate with Demen, because while Demen could use wit for his advantage, Angor’s tendency to hit people on the head was not a pleasant one to experience. And because he knew it was true: now was not the best day to learn to fly.

So he simply stood back and watched, as Angor ran the finishing tests. “Engine capacity?”

Grav said, “Ninety-eight percent.”

“Weapons systems?” Angor asked.

“Twenty-eight percent.”

“Hmm…stabilizers?”

“Thirty-nine percent.”

Angor raised a pair of scruffy eyebrows. “Wow—up a full thirteen percent from last time. Retros?”

“Negative.”

“I’m not surprised, what with that last full stop I pulled off fighting that security guard,” the pilot chuckled. “Shields?”

“One hundred percent.”

“Good. How about the boosters?”

Grav turned both thumbs down. “Let’s just say…they’re not prepared for any distance over a kilometer.”

Angor grinned. “Great—the old Cookycutter’s as flight-ready as we’ve ever ridden her!”

Evers winced. He’d always thought their ship, for all its faults, had its systems at higher capacity than that. Flying straight to Metropolita from their secret island base, without promise they might be recognized, with no retro-rockets or boosters and a very outdated and failing turret, was not his idea of classy transport for the best bounty hunter team in the world. Maybe Damidh Kash really did want to kill them.

Angor twisted the Communications Frequency dial to the island tower, and leaned forward toward the mouthpiece. “Shuttle Cookycutter, occupants the Destroyers band, demanding permission to launch.”

For a moment, nothing but static came over the transmitter, but Evers was patient for the response. He wasn’t too eager to go to Metropolita to kill his own family anyway; he could wait a few days, even weeks. He needed to impress Damidh Kash…but he didn’t want to mow down the people he knew and used to love.

The grating voice of the tower operator replied, “Acknowledged…hold on a second, pilot. Gotta let Bondik go first.”

That made Evers move over to the window and look up. Yes, the huge overspreading shield above the island was parting in a certain place, leaving a hole large enough for a small ship to exit. Through that gap flew the familiar shape of the Flamethrower.

I wonder where the great Bondik Sarkin’s off to today, Evers thought. Probably going to kill another twenty people in as many seconds, but I bet he isn’t going to do something as important as we are. We’re going to touch off a war.

The Flamethrower suddenly accelerated and disappeared from sight, and the hole in the island shield filled back up again with its electrical energy. Evers returned his attention to the communicator, and the tower operator said “You’re all clear to go.”

The massive pilot rubbed his hands with childlike glee. “Time to take her up!”

Angor reached forward and flicked a switch. The upgraded aft engines roared to life with power that shook the whole shuttle, making Evers stumble for an instant before regaining his balance. The pilot pressed a button, and a translucent blue field appeared just outside the hull, surrounding the shuttle in its protective shield.

Evers glanced at the LAUNCH button. He’d seen the takeoff once before now, but since he needed to be able to fly to be a decent bounty hunter alone, he found a new sense of interest in how the two flew the Cookycutter. All of the fighters and shuttles and freighters and cruisers were different, but most of the controls stayed the same.

Grav reached out and slapped the LAUNCH button, and the engines built into the underside of the shuttle activated. The initial vibrations were not so powerful as the aft engines had been, but they were still enough to indicate a strong sense of life.

Evers glanced out the window. Their shuttle slowly lifted off the pad,

“Time to fly,” Angor said quietly, and pulled back on a lever.

The rear engines blazed out full-power, and the Cookycutter shot into the skies.
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  #9  
05-11-2010, 02:38 PM
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Chapter 6

Venin watched Evers’ back carefully. Not in the sense that he was protective of the troubled young man, but he sat in one of the chairs in the passengers’ area, watching the back of their slicer’s head as they flew through the shield. Venin had been a bounty hunter for seventeen years now; he was not a young man any more. But he had gained more experience than any of the others, even Grav. And he knew just how to use that experience for his own benefit and nothing else.

He could tell Evers was struggling to keep his priorities straight. The youngest member of the team was facing the most important test of his moral life: killing his own family, and trying to do it without regret.

Venin was rather surprised that Damidh Kash had sent Evers out on his test so early; he’d been thirty, a hunter for six years, when he’d slaughtered his family. And Venin had done it with a total lack of regret, for it meant he was then a full bounty hunter.

If Evers was facing his test after only a year on the island, that left only one conclusion: the bounty hunter leader saw potential in Evers. Evers was a quick learner, and made good decisions. Evers also didn’t have Demen’s bad quality of constantly dealing out mean remarks. The young man was a good shot, but his draw could use work. Evers was a better computer slicer than any of them, but that was his best. All the others were stronger, faster, more experienced.

So what did Kash see in the young man? What was there in him except a slicer?

Venin decided not to ponder it extensively; there was no reason to think about it for a long time. Damidh Kash was a brilliant man, and Venin owed everything to his boss, so he decided not to reason out why the bounty hunter leader had sent Evers on his test mission so early. The boss always had his reasons; sometimes it was just difficult to see what those reasons were for his decisions. It would work out.

Demen settled deeper into his seat. “Ahhh…it’s good to be back on the job after so long.”

Ferus laughed. “Has five days already worn down your kill gauge, or is it just boredom?”

“Both,” the smaller man assured him. “When my kill gage gets down, I gets bored, and I need to fill it back up again. And, if the information is right, I should get my fill.”

Venin smiled dangerously. “You will, Demen…you will.”

“I had better,” the bounty hunter growled. “Killing’s what I get to do best, and it’s what I haven’t gotten to do much lately. I mean, killing rats in the sewer is fine, for about two milliseconds. I need some fresh meat that I can rip with a pistol laser.”

“You’re disgusting,” Ferus said.

“Think of me what you may, but keep quiet about it,” Demen snapped. “I, on the other hand, have been commissioned by the Imaginary Council of Derision to chatter you to death with my outrageously witty retorts, so I can yell at you all I like.”

Ferus raised an eyebrow. “Imaginary Council of Damnation or not, I’m still going to say this: you’re an idiot. A powerful idiot, when prepared, but still an idiot.”

Venin held up one hand, and Demen paused with his mouth wide open. “Shut up, both of you. I need to tell you something…”

Both of the others leaned forward, and Demen had the good sense to keep his mouth shut for once.

“This isn’t going to be a piece of yuji,” the squad leader informed them. “You probably guessed that already. But this is even more serious than I had realized.”

Demen raised an eyebrow. “The mighty Venin, leader of the Destroyer squad, finds out he’s unprepared for a mission? Whoa!”

Venin reached out one hand and slapped him across the mouth with one casual gesture. “You really should learn to keep your mouth shut, Demen, or I’ll have to shut it for you—permanently.”

The gunner rubbed his sore mouth with the back of his hand. “Yeah, I know.”

“Then stay quiet,” Venin advised. “The fortress on Metropolita has top rate security systems—all maxed out. They have a top-notch security shield protecting it, so you couldn’t drop a bomb on it if you wanted to. There’s a line of shielded gateways protected by two plasma turrets each, along with a pair of guards, and each gate has a different lock. Five gates total. Then you get to the front gates, and that’s even harder. It has ten locks, each one with its own personal shield, and the shield generators are hidden on the surface of the doors.”

Demen leaned as far back from Venin as he could without leaving the chair. “Sounds like a lot of fun.”

“I think this is beyond fun,” Ferus warned. “We’ve got good weaponry on us, but since this is supposed to be a secret assassination, we can’t even hit our way in.”

The gunner frowned. “Bummer. Hadn’t thought of that…”

Venin smiled. “Don’t worry. There’s another way in…and I bet you can guess what it is.”

Ferus sighed tiredly. “Of course. The ever-popular sewer system that’s underguarded and overstenched.”

The squad leader smiled. “How did you ever guess?”

In the ceiling above them, the transmitter system crackled to life. From the cockpit, Angor reported, “We’re joining in with the Torren-Metropolitan Flyway in…four…three…two…one…We’ve just entered the traffic and we are decelerating to 350 kph.”

Venin reached down into the crack of the seat beside him, and pulled out the transmitter. “Excellent. I believe the hull redecoration was sufficient for us to blend in; we’ll soon see.”

Angor’s chuckle was fuzzy over the transmitting system. “Heh. If we weren’t on a stealth mission, I’d actually like to go in broad view of everyone else. Then we could have some fun.”

“Stay on priorities, Angor. Keep your mind clear.”

“Roger that…Captain.” The way the pilot said ‘captain’ made it quite clear he resented Venin’s authority. But there was nothing he could do about it now.

The mission had begun. Soon, Family Harvin would be dead, and the war would begin.
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  #10  
05-20-2010, 10:01 AM
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: Jan 2010
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Chapter 7

Evers wandered back into the passenger area of the shuttle. Flying was one of the most complicated processes he had ever witnessed, but he still needed to learn how to do it himself. Someday, he knew he would, if he was ever to be anything like the great Bondik Sarkin. The legendary bounty hunter had made himself great because he could do it all: set explosives, fly aircraft, hot-wire computers, draw fast and shoot accurate, keep calm in the face of failure and even tear people apart with wrestling moves.

Demen and Ferus were speaking quietly to each other, and Venin sat in chilling silence with his eyes focused on Evers as the young member entered the passenger area. The slicer waved cheerfully and then moved to the seat beside Ferus, making sure Venin and Demen were on the other side from his companion.

Apparently, Demen was telling a story about a past bounty. “And then the one guard says, ‘Hey! I think there’s somebody over there!’ Then I paste him with a rock to the head, and he falls off the ledge and drops two hundred feet, and he—”

“I really wouldn’t care to hear the end of that sentence,” Ferus cut him off. “I’d probably laugh, and I need to learn not to laugh. Bondik Sarkin has never laughed.”

“Laughing is good for the soul,” Demen replied. “And we all need to find some fun in our job.”

“I can already find life fun - silently.”

Demen snorted. “What kind of fun is it, if you can keep quiet about it? The best kind of fun is the sort you can shout to the world, that makes you want to invite everybody to come and be shot at!”

“No one would come,” Ferus pointed out.

“Yeah…but it’s still fun,” the gunner said. “If your job isn’t fun, you don’t do as well in it. People like Grav and even Bondik Sarkin need to learn to laugh sometimes.”

“Bondik Sarkin doesn’t need to know anything,” Evers said. “If he had something lacking, he wouldn’t be the greatest bounty hunter in history. He knows everything.”

Demen sneered. “You talk about Bondik like he’s some kind of demi-god. But he’s not. He’s just a man.”

“So are you,” Ferus said.

“But nobody should think that just because Bondik is powerful, he’s to be worshipped!” Demen snapped. “He’s a bounty hunter, a BEEP good one at that, but he’s capable of failure.”

Evers lifted his pointer. “He hasn’t failed yet.”

“But he will. Someday.” The gunner settled back into his seat. “Who knows, he could be dying right now.”

A concussion blast shook the whole shuttle, tossing Demen out of his seat and onto the floor. Ferus and Evers staggered up against the wall, trying to keep from following the gunner, and Venin managed to clamp his fingers around his armrest.

Angor’s voice crackled in over the transmitter: “You may have noticed, but we’re under attack!”

Demen muttered from the floor, “Yeah, we noticed.”

Ferus managed to direct his staggering toward one of the transparenium windows lining the passenger area, and he whistled quietly. “Somehow, I get the feeling Bondik’s not dead.”

Evers and Demen ran up beside him, intent upon finding what he meant by that. Evers felt a sharp chill run down his spine as he spotted the source of that concussion blast: the gaping openings of the plasma turrets built into the sides of the Flamethrower, the personal craft of the famous bounty hunter, of course, Bondik Sarkin.

“Oh, wonderful,” Demen muttered. “First we say he’s awesome, then he’s dead, now he’s shooting at us!”

“Oh, will you shut up?” Ferus snapped.

The Cookycutter suddenly accelerated, diving sideways out of the main traffic lanes, and Evers stumbled against the wall once again. Angor did not care at all for the common travelers riding the skyway, but being in the open would give him much more room to maneuver than among so many aircraft. Plus, they had been ordered by Damidh Kash to avoid attention, and none of them wanted to go against specific orders from their boss, and Bondik Sarkin wasn’t a man they wanted to fight.

As the Cookycutter lurched upward, Evers was granted a good view of the Flamethrower’s vertical cockpit. The dark shape of the famous man was seated behind his transparenium canopy, and though Evers couldn’t see that face behind the mask, he somehow knew their pursuer was grinning with an evil pleasure.

More blasts of plasma came flying from those turrets, exploding in the air all around the Cookycutter. One such blast struck the top, but it dissipated when it met their upgraded shield system. The shuttle rocked tremendously from the blow, which reminded Evers of their bad stabilizer system. One hit in the right place, and they would completely lose control of their ship, which would plummet to the ocean below.

Venin staggered his way toward the cockpit of the shuttle, and Evers followed behind him. Angor and Grav were desperately working the controls like madmen—Angor had the main set of handlebars, twisting them forward and up, while Grav tried to reroute some of the power from their shields to their boosters.

“Try to call him,” Venin ordered.

Grav snarled, “I’m a little busy right now—do it yourself!”

Venin laughed, somehow icily calm. “A squad leader doesn’t get to be that by being helpless.”

The man crouched down between Angor and Grav, with barely enough room for the pilots to move their arms. Venin hit the transmitter and flipped it to Bondik’s frequency. Bondik was one of the few bounty hunters who made no secret of his comm frequency, because he wanted people to send him bounties directly.

“This is Venin,” the squad leader said fearlessly. “Back down or we’ll see it as appropriate measures to destroy you.”

Evers gaped at his leader. “Destroy him? With our busted turret? You can’t be serious!”

Venin shoved him away. “We have no choice, Evers. You want to fly around providing him with target practice?”

“But we don’t even know why he’s shooting at us!”

“That’s why I’m telling him to back down,” Venin replied. “If I knew why he was shooting at us, I’d already have that turret firing back. Listen to learn, Evers, not to argue.”

Bondik’s flat voice said, “Back down, to you? I don’t think so. Venin, it’s no secret your ship is ready to fall apart on you. If you shoot at me, you might actually make me laugh.”

Venin chuckled darkly. “I warn you, Bondik…we’re not going to show any mercy on you.”

“I don’t blame you. Goodbye, Venin.”

Venin stared in cold silence at the transmitter for a moment, and then he stood up again.

More plasma bursts filled the air around the shuttle with deadly flames, and Angor wrenched the controls left, right, and then finally down, knocking Venin and Evers back and forth across the cockpit. The shields rebounded a shot, and the shuttle reeled at the blow, sliding left and down before the pilot could keep it on course.

The squad leader stared out the cockpit for a moment. “Grav, can you take some of the power from the stabilizers and add it to the turret?”

The sniper shook his head. “No. They’re already almost shot, and if we took any more juice from them, they’d explode.”

“Then take it from the shields.”

Grav frowned. “Are you sure we can risk it?”

“We have to,” Venin said. “There’s no other option.”

“Got it.”

Evers put his feet against one side of the door frame and his back to the other side, bracing himself. Grav flipped some switches and twisted a dial, and immediately a thrumming vibration ran through the ship, as half of their shield power was converted to turret power. Venin moved to the left side of the cockpit, where their turret control panel was located, and activated their defense mechanism.

“Here we go,” Angor muttered. “Time to fight back.”
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06-01-2010, 12:11 PM
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Chapter 8

Before Venin could even begin to aim the turret, another blast from the Flamethrower hit the top of the shuttle as they ascended. With their shields so much weaker than before, the blast hurt the Cookycutter even more than it had before, sending it into a steep descent.

Evers began to feel a sense of panic in his chest. He’d killed a hundred men during his career as a bounty hunter, using these LL-J9 pistols from his father, and he hadn’t felt much fear at all as he had faced down security and otherwise. He had known he was a promising bounty hunter and they were simply common people.

Now, though, faced by the mighty Bondik Sarkin in the Flamethrower, he wasn’t so confident they could make it out alive. Those plasma blasts had taken their toll on the shuttle. Not many people could do this much damage to the shuttle when Angor was at the controls in a good mood, but with such a famous man and grand pilot in a much more maneuverable ship this hard on their tail shooting at them, there was a much higher chance of pulverization. That didn’t reassure Evers at all.

Angor yanked on the controls, and they bent slightly. “Oh, come on,” the pilot snarled, slapping at the auxiliary power switch.

With the auxiliary power fed into the critical systems, the Cookycutter blazed to life. The vibrations from the engine grew in velocity, the lights on the turret bleeped on, and their downward plunge turned into an upward spin that again made Ever’s head ring.

Venin immediately began to use the turret controls, spinning the turret around to face the oncoming Flamethrower. Surprisingly, Bondik’s turrets had gone silent; perhaps his launchers had overheated. Whatever the reason, Evers was quite pleased they weren’t being shot at for the moment.

The squad leader pressed down on the fire controls, and laser blasts stitched the skies with their deadly energy. Angor slowed the Cookycutter to speed-limit velocity, giving Venin the perfect opportunity to hammer away at Bondik as the Flamethrower shot past them.

I can’t believe this is happening, Evers thought blankly. We’re fighting and killing Bondik Sarkin.

“Get him,” Grav encouraged, eagerly watching the Flamethrower roll and dodge away from Venin’s lasers. The maneuverable little craft was good at dodging, and had those excellent plasma cannons, but Bondik had to steer and fire at the same time, and he only had two hands. Venin and the pilots had made up six hands.

It was almost amusing, watching the famous Bondik Sarkin attempting to avoid the lasers coming from a half-dead, outdated turret on a half-dead, outdated passenger shuttle. Bondik was truly an expert pilot, snap-rolling as each bolt came his way, spinning above and around each shot that Venin sent his way, but there was no way the famous bounty hunter could dodge them forever—

The Flamethrower’s plasma turrets focused on the Cookycutter and let fly with more superheated blasts. Angor tried to spin the shuttle away, but it was too bulky to completely avoid the shots. They hit the shields, but since the pilot had already told the engines to angle upward, the shuttle managed to continue ascending.

“Time for you amateurs to die,” Bondik chuckled.

Plasma bursts flew fast and thick, more than before, and Angor was in a flurry of quick arm movements to try to dodge them all. The controls were a twisted Y by this time, but they were still working, for the most part. Venin’s shooting never stopped, as the squad leader continued to return blows at their unexplained foe.

Evers reached forward and tapped the comm button. “Bondik, what is it you want?”

The response had a mocking sound to it. “I came here to kill you; why else do you think I’d be shooting you down?”

“But exactly why do you want to kill us?” Evers grunted, voice strained as another plasma burst exploded on the shields.

“Because there’s a load of money in it for me if I do, and money is my life. Why else do you think I’d care enough about you to ambush you? If you didn’t have a price on your heads, I wouldn’t think you were enough threat to my reputation.”

Evers clenched his teeth. So somebody had put a bounty on the bounty hunters? Hand trembling with rage, he spat, “I hope you’re prepared to die, Bondik. This is it.”

“This is it for you,” Bondik laughed. “Tell all the folks down in hell I sent you!”

The slicer leapt up and looked out the window, just in time to see their worst fears materializing out of a small launch tube in the underside of their foe’s craft: an electric missile. That kind of missile could hit their shields and overload them, then hit the side of the Cookycutter. The electric missile was not meant for explosions, but an overdose of electricity in the critical systems of the shuttle would shut them down in seconds, and then they would plunge into the sea below.

Normally, falling into the sea wouldn’t be considered so bad since it left a small chance for escaping death by swimming, but when they were here above the middle of the ocean without land for dozens of miles at all points, they would drown. Which meant Bondik Sarkin was trying to bring them a long, slow death.

“BEEP!” Angor growled. “E-Missile!”

Grav waved a hand at the missile. “Venin, target the missile! Destroy it or we’re in trouble.”

“One missile, in the crosshairs,” Venin said calmly.

Evers felt quite helpless. The Cookycutter swerved and dove and lifted like a bird, trying to avoid the much-faster missile tracking them, but that also meant Venin was having a hard time hitting the missile. Add the fact that the Flamethrower was still pursuing them, still hurling plasma blasts at them in a nonstop stream, and that equaled trouble.

“This is even worse than the security forces on Durgo,” Evers growled, remembering the four fighter jets they’d destroyed there.

“Shut up,” Angor snapped. “I gotta concentrate.”

Evers didn’t argue. He just tried to hang on tight, as the shuttle spun and swooped. The missile kept coming onward, despite Venin’s bolts that hit the air all around it. Once every few seconds, a laser skimmed the missile, or even rebounded off the protite armor, but the shots appeared to have little or no effect.

Venin turned to Grav. “Reroute all power from the shields to the guns! Now!”

The sniper hesitated. “It’s a serious gamble—”

“I know. A gamble we have to take,” the squad leader replied, finally showing some strains. “Now do it!”

“All right…” Grav reached out and twisted two dials. Instantly, their shields dissipated with a faint hissing, and the charge on Venin’s turret went from sixty-seven percent to full capacity.

Venin resumed firing on the missile, coming closer and closer to hitting the pursuing weapon—

And a plasma blast hit one of the aft engines. Immediately, the shuttle rocked with the destructive force of the blast, and their speed went down to less than 215 kph, much less than what they would need to dodge the further plasma bolts.

“Oh, come on,” Angor said again. “Venin, hit the stupid missile, don’t just shoot at it!”

To Ever’s horror, Venin took the insult so much that the squad leader actually took his hands off the firing controls. Venin turned and smacked the pilot across the face with such anger that Angor nearly fell over backwards, but the pilot immediately leaned forward and wrenched the shuttle to a steep ascent.

Evers stared in shock. No one was shooting at the missile!

“How many times do I have to say it,” Venin snapped. “Don’t insult me, or you’ll get hurt.”

Venin returned his hands to the controls, and fired once. The missile exploded in one short burst of flame.

“Yes!” Angor grunted. “Hang on tight, all of you! I’m gonna take us head-on with the mighty Bondik Sarkin!”

As the pilot wrenched the shuttle around in a tight turn, Grav took back some of the power from the turret to the shields so they could afford to take the Flamethrower head-on. Evers felt his gut clench as he saw the fighter jet coming on at them, only about a half-mile away, plasma bolts streaking from the turrets.

“This is where it all comes together,” Venin chuckled.

The two ships streaked towards each other, each with guns blazing. All of Venin’s lasers were directed precisely for the transparenium window right in front of Bondik, not only trying to take down his shields, but also trying to cover up Bondik’s view with laser energy. Plasma bolts struck their shields and rocked the shuttle, but Angor had the engines and boosters going as hard as they could manage, so their forward course wasn’t hindered by the blasts. It was all going to happen here.

If both of us blow up, Evers thought, then the bounty hunters will never recover from the loss.

To his surprise, the Flamethrower appeared to be listing on one side, as if Bondik couldn’t see enough to know exactly where to add the stabilizers’ energy. Venin’s plan was working!

And suddenly, the Cookycutter’s shields failed.

Evers’ eyes popped wide. With no shields, they couldn’t even transfer the power to some other system, and they were open to the direct hits from all the plasma blasts. Angor had no immediate choice but to bring the shuttle in a sweeping downward curve so they wouldn’t take the next few plasma bolts full in the cockpit.

“If we die,” Angor growled, “I’m gonna get mad. Never died before, and don’t intend to now.”

Venin kept firing in silence, his turret lasers pounding hard on their foe’s shields. Even though the Cookycutter had upgraded shields, it appeared as if Bondik Sarkin had even better ones…or maybe it was just due to the bad little turret being all the Destroyers had.

It’s not over yet, it’s not over yet, Evers told himself. We can still pull this off, we can still beat him.

As if his mind had some effect on life, Bondik’s shields failed seconds after he thought this. Evers felt a hot rush of excitement run through him, as he regarded what that meant: the Flamethrower was now open to damaging hits, and even shots from the outdated little turret on the Cookycutter could bring it down.

“Now we’re in deep,” Angor said. “Both without shields, both mad fit to burst…”

“Keep your mind on the steering,” Venin said, continuing to spread hot lasers through the sky at their enemy.

“Yeah. I know.”

Bondik’s voice came in over the transmitter, and to Evers’ surprise, it was still as flat and haughty as ever. “You still think you have a chance, poor fools? You still think you can resist the great Bondik Sarkin, now that you’re defenseless?”

Evers raised an eyebrow. “What’s he talking about? He doesn’t have any shields, either.”

“Don’t underestimate Bondik Sarkin,” Grav warned. “He’s probably got a trick up his turret barrel…”

The sniper stopped speaking suddenly, as something happened that was immediately burned into his memory. Everyone stared in shock, as some of Venin’s lasers connected with their foe’s engines. Smoke poured from those charred holes, followed by gouts of open flame, and the Flamethrower reeled tremendously.

Evers knew what that meant: Bondik Sarkin had been defeated, maybe even killed right, before his very eyes.

And then the fighter jet began plummeting, tail-first, toward the oceans below, trailing smoke behind it all the way down. Seconds later, as it neared the surface of the water, the Flamethrower exploded and immediately lived up to its name, throwing flaming pieces far and wide from under a cloud of thick black smoke.

For a moment, no one said anything. Even Venin seemed rather shaken at witnessing the death of a legend.

Evers stared down at that cloud of smoke below. Everything he had ever dreamed of being—everything he had hoped to be someday—had just gone up in flame right before his eyes. He had participated in the death of his own role model.

“We got him,” Angor said after a minute. “We just shot down Bondik Sarkin himself.”

Grav cracked his knuckles one by one. “Damidh Kash won’t be happy, with his favorite bounty hunter dead. Kash will probably raise the bounty on our head.”

Venin shrugged. “Whatever the cost, it was in self-defense…and that means we are now the greatest of the bounty hunters. Bondik Sarkin was the only obstacle to our fame and recognition…and now he’s dead. Now we can get a raise.”

Evers stood and walked back into the passenger area. When they got back to the bounty hunter base after their mission was completed, his family were dead, and the war had started, things were going to be a lot different for the Destroyers, he knew.

But apparently he wasn’t going to get a chance to rest, because Demen was smiling. And when the gunner was smiling, that meant he was either in for a fistfight or an argument, and those were the last two things he needed if he was going to rest.

“I told you,” Demen said, poking a finger in Evers’ face. “I said, ‘Bondik’s going to die someday,’ didn’t I?”

“Yes,” Evers muttered. “You did.”

Ferus breathed out heavily. “It’s…hard to believe. I mean, Bondik had been there during my whole career, always the one everybody else looked up to and respected as the greatest. Bondik knew he was the best…and now he’s gone.”

Demen laughed. “Why in the world would you want Bondik to still be alive? He was a competitor.”

“It’s just strange not being able to think of him as the master,” Ferus replied. “He was the best of the best…and now we’re going to get the fame. Not like that’s a bad thing.”

Evers smiled. “Well, at least he’s not shooting at us anymore.”

“That’s for sure,” Demen grunted. “We were both seriously tearing into each other back there…but then, that’s what two alpha males do if they meet up.”

Ferus nudged the gunner. “You, an alpha male? Hah!”

“Don’t doubt this trigger finger of mine,” Demen said with a fierce grin on his face.

“I’ve seen you shoot,” Ferus said. “You shoot okay…but your pocket hologame playing could use some work.”

Demen clenched his teeth at the jibe. “I am not even going to defend myself against those accusations,” the gunner snarled with all the tender care of a viper.

“Good,” Evers said. “I’m tired of arguing.”
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