Mr_DC
Been a while
The battered muscle car sputtered as it rumbled down the cracked asphalt road, kicking up clouds of dust in its wake. Darius Galt fidgeted nervously in the passenger seat, his once-pristine suit now rumpled and stained. He clutched a sleek briefcase to his chest like a lifeline.
"Are you sure this is the right way, Vex? It feels like we've been driving for hours," Darius asked, trying to keep the tremor from his voice.
Vex, a grizzled Zima with a jagged scar running down his muzzle, shot him an impatient look. "Relax, rich boy. I know these roads like the back of my hand. Ain't nobody gonna find you where we're headed."
The car crested a hill, revealing a sprawling town on the horizon. Ramshackle buildings of rusted metal and crumbling concrete stretched as far as the eye could see, a labyrinth of narrow alleyways and makeshift dwellings. Plumes of smoke rose from the industrial district, the acrid stench carrying even to the city outskirts.
"Black Bay," Vex announced with a sardonic grin. "The asshole of Epsilon, where every lowlife, outcast, and crook comes to disappear. Autocracy doesn't give two shits what happens here, as long as the trouble stays within city limits."
"Charming," Darius drawled, his knuckles white around the briefcase handle. "I assume you have contacts here?"
"Something like that," Vex replied, his whiskers twitching. "Let's just say I know people who owe me favors. Should be enough to keep us off the radar for a while."
Darius swallowed hard, his eyes widening as they passed the first buildings on the fringe. Gaunt faces peered out from darkened doorways and grimy windows, their hollow stares following the car's passage. Faded gang tags and anarchist graffiti covered every available surface. Driving deeper into Black Bay's bowels, the streets grew more crowded. Ragged locals eyed the car with predatory interest. A group of Ciri, their large ears twitching, huddled around a burning barrel. The acrid smell of cheap narcotics hung in the air.
"Keep your head down," Vex growled. "Don't make eye contact."
As they turned onto what passed for a main thoroughfare, the true nature of the city became more apparent. Neon signs flickered and buzzed, advertising everything from cheap booze and drugs to black market augments and shady VR dens. Scantily clad joygirls of every species loitered on the corners, enticing passersby with sultry promises. Armed thugs strutted down the streets, openly flaunting their weapons in a show of dominance.
The car lurched to a stop outside a dilapidated bar. The sign above the door, barely legible, read "The Rusty Trombone."
"End of the line," Vex announced. "Welcome to your new digs."
Darius eyed the establishment warily. "You can't be serious."
Vex's laugh was more of a snarl. "What were you expecting, a Pleasure Palace? This is as good as it gets for you in Black Bay. Now move your ass before someone decides to jack our ride."
They exited the car, Darius clutching the briefcase like a shield. The few patrons loitering outside the bar fixed them with cold, calculating stares. Vex's hand hovered near the pistol at his hip, a silent warning.
Inside, the Rusty Nail was a den of smoke and shadows. A motley assortment of lowlifes nursed their drinks, conversations dying as the newcomers entered. Behind the bar, a grizzled Hotas wiped a glass with a filthy rag, his tail swishing lazily.
"Well, well," the bartender rumbled. "If it ain't Double Tap. Thought you'd gone legit."
Vex's lips curled into something approximating a smile. "Hello, Scratch. Need a room for me and my client here."
Scratch's feline gaze settled on Darius, who tried not to flinch under the scrutiny. "Bit out of his element, ain't he? What's the story?"
"The less you know, the better," Vex replied smoothly. "Just need a place to lay low for a while. You still owe me for Laviania."
The Hotas's whiskers twitched. "Fair enough. Room 303, up the stairs. No one will hear of you. Don't make me regret this."
As they made their way to the decrepit staircase, a burly human with more scars than skin blocked their path. "New meat, eh?" he leered, alcohol heavy on his breath. "How 'bout you ditch the furball and let me show you a good time?"
Before Darius could stammer a response, Vex moved with lightning speed. In a blur of motion, he had the man pinned against the wall, a dagger pressed to his throat.
"Touch him, and I'll use your intestines as a jump rope," he hissed. "Understand?"
The man's bravado evaporated. He nodded frantically, a trickle of blood running down his neck where the blade bit into his skin.
Vex released him with a disgusted shove. "Let's go," he growled to Darius. "And try not to look so damn helpless. It's like painting a target on your back."
They climbed the creaking stairs to the third floor. Room 303 was barely more than a closet, with a sagging bed and a window that had long since been boarded up. The smell of mildew permeated everything.
Darius sank onto the bed, wincing at the protesting springs. "What now?"
Vex leaned against the door frame, his tail swishing agitatedly. "Now? We wait. I've got some feelers out, seeing who might be interested in the shit you've got in that case. Once we find a buyer, we get you a new identity and to a new pillar. And I collect my fee."
"And if Typhoon Industries catches up to us first?"
The Namur's grin was all fangs. "Then we get to see if those fancy corpo death squads of theirs are as good in a fight as they claim."
Darius subconsciously flexed his augmented arm. He was no good in a fight and his cybernetics were more style than substance. His safety was all down to Vex.
A distant explosion rocked the building, followed by the chattering of rifles. Vex's ears swiveled towards the sound.
"Lovely neighborhood," Darius muttered.
"Gang war," Vex explained, unperturbed. "Koola's boys making a push against the local talent. Been brewing for weeks."
As if on cue, a woman's scream pierced the night, abruptly cut short. Darius felt his stomach lurch.
"Welcome to Black Bay," Vex said, his voice dripping with sardonic amusement. "Here you’re either smart or you’re dead. You'd better adapt quick, rich boy."
Darius clutched the briefcase tighter, his mind racing. As another explosion lit up the night sky, he realized it was far too late for second thoughts. "So," he said, mustering what little bravado he could. "What’s good to drink in this charming hellhole?"
Vex's laugh was as sharp as his claws. "Now you're getting it. Come on, let's see if you can hold your rotgut."
With a nervous chuckle, Darius followed his protector back down to the bar. Whatever came next, he had a feeling it would make corporate backstabbing look like a day at the beach.
"Are you sure this is the right way, Vex? It feels like we've been driving for hours," Darius asked, trying to keep the tremor from his voice.
Vex, a grizzled Zima with a jagged scar running down his muzzle, shot him an impatient look. "Relax, rich boy. I know these roads like the back of my hand. Ain't nobody gonna find you where we're headed."
The car crested a hill, revealing a sprawling town on the horizon. Ramshackle buildings of rusted metal and crumbling concrete stretched as far as the eye could see, a labyrinth of narrow alleyways and makeshift dwellings. Plumes of smoke rose from the industrial district, the acrid stench carrying even to the city outskirts.
"Black Bay," Vex announced with a sardonic grin. "The asshole of Epsilon, where every lowlife, outcast, and crook comes to disappear. Autocracy doesn't give two shits what happens here, as long as the trouble stays within city limits."
"Charming," Darius drawled, his knuckles white around the briefcase handle. "I assume you have contacts here?"
"Something like that," Vex replied, his whiskers twitching. "Let's just say I know people who owe me favors. Should be enough to keep us off the radar for a while."
Darius swallowed hard, his eyes widening as they passed the first buildings on the fringe. Gaunt faces peered out from darkened doorways and grimy windows, their hollow stares following the car's passage. Faded gang tags and anarchist graffiti covered every available surface. Driving deeper into Black Bay's bowels, the streets grew more crowded. Ragged locals eyed the car with predatory interest. A group of Ciri, their large ears twitching, huddled around a burning barrel. The acrid smell of cheap narcotics hung in the air.
"Keep your head down," Vex growled. "Don't make eye contact."
As they turned onto what passed for a main thoroughfare, the true nature of the city became more apparent. Neon signs flickered and buzzed, advertising everything from cheap booze and drugs to black market augments and shady VR dens. Scantily clad joygirls of every species loitered on the corners, enticing passersby with sultry promises. Armed thugs strutted down the streets, openly flaunting their weapons in a show of dominance.
The car lurched to a stop outside a dilapidated bar. The sign above the door, barely legible, read "The Rusty Trombone."
"End of the line," Vex announced. "Welcome to your new digs."
Darius eyed the establishment warily. "You can't be serious."
Vex's laugh was more of a snarl. "What were you expecting, a Pleasure Palace? This is as good as it gets for you in Black Bay. Now move your ass before someone decides to jack our ride."
They exited the car, Darius clutching the briefcase like a shield. The few patrons loitering outside the bar fixed them with cold, calculating stares. Vex's hand hovered near the pistol at his hip, a silent warning.
Inside, the Rusty Nail was a den of smoke and shadows. A motley assortment of lowlifes nursed their drinks, conversations dying as the newcomers entered. Behind the bar, a grizzled Hotas wiped a glass with a filthy rag, his tail swishing lazily.
"Well, well," the bartender rumbled. "If it ain't Double Tap. Thought you'd gone legit."
Vex's lips curled into something approximating a smile. "Hello, Scratch. Need a room for me and my client here."
Scratch's feline gaze settled on Darius, who tried not to flinch under the scrutiny. "Bit out of his element, ain't he? What's the story?"
"The less you know, the better," Vex replied smoothly. "Just need a place to lay low for a while. You still owe me for Laviania."
The Hotas's whiskers twitched. "Fair enough. Room 303, up the stairs. No one will hear of you. Don't make me regret this."
As they made their way to the decrepit staircase, a burly human with more scars than skin blocked their path. "New meat, eh?" he leered, alcohol heavy on his breath. "How 'bout you ditch the furball and let me show you a good time?"
Before Darius could stammer a response, Vex moved with lightning speed. In a blur of motion, he had the man pinned against the wall, a dagger pressed to his throat.
"Touch him, and I'll use your intestines as a jump rope," he hissed. "Understand?"
The man's bravado evaporated. He nodded frantically, a trickle of blood running down his neck where the blade bit into his skin.
Vex released him with a disgusted shove. "Let's go," he growled to Darius. "And try not to look so damn helpless. It's like painting a target on your back."
They climbed the creaking stairs to the third floor. Room 303 was barely more than a closet, with a sagging bed and a window that had long since been boarded up. The smell of mildew permeated everything.
Darius sank onto the bed, wincing at the protesting springs. "What now?"
Vex leaned against the door frame, his tail swishing agitatedly. "Now? We wait. I've got some feelers out, seeing who might be interested in the shit you've got in that case. Once we find a buyer, we get you a new identity and to a new pillar. And I collect my fee."
"And if Typhoon Industries catches up to us first?"
The Namur's grin was all fangs. "Then we get to see if those fancy corpo death squads of theirs are as good in a fight as they claim."
Darius subconsciously flexed his augmented arm. He was no good in a fight and his cybernetics were more style than substance. His safety was all down to Vex.
A distant explosion rocked the building, followed by the chattering of rifles. Vex's ears swiveled towards the sound.
"Lovely neighborhood," Darius muttered.
"Gang war," Vex explained, unperturbed. "Koola's boys making a push against the local talent. Been brewing for weeks."
As if on cue, a woman's scream pierced the night, abruptly cut short. Darius felt his stomach lurch.
"Welcome to Black Bay," Vex said, his voice dripping with sardonic amusement. "Here you’re either smart or you’re dead. You'd better adapt quick, rich boy."
Darius clutched the briefcase tighter, his mind racing. As another explosion lit up the night sky, he realized it was far too late for second thoughts. "So," he said, mustering what little bravado he could. "What’s good to drink in this charming hellhole?"
Vex's laugh was as sharp as his claws. "Now you're getting it. Come on, let's see if you can hold your rotgut."
With a nervous chuckle, Darius followed his protector back down to the bar. Whatever came next, he had a feeling it would make corporate backstabbing look like a day at the beach.
