For Want of a Burger

An Apex Short Story

-by Ninmast Nunyabiz-

The air was as clean as any other district of the megacity, save perhaps for the industrial district, but that was where the similarities ended.

The docks didn't stink of fish because there was no fish trade to speak of in the Galactic Union. The only fishing was done by aquatic or semi-aquatic predator species, keeping it low and small in scale.

Of course, it also didn't stink like fish because the docks weren't for the sea. The sea was right there, but its water was used as coolant for all of the support facilities that tended to the steady flow of specialized orbit-to-ground craft delivering shipments from the stations day and night.

Ashley was without her blue Defender jacket, wearing an unadorned brown one in its place. This wasn't just because she was off-duty. She would normally still wear it even then, so that anyone in need would still know they could call on her. Here, though, it would be a needless source of conflict.

There was no such thing as a recognized Pred territory within Union space, save for a handful of quarantined planets that never birthed a civilized species to claim it. Such things were more akin to wildlife preserves than anything considered a settlement, no matter how advanced the preds might be.

However, the vast majority of predator species that worked actual jobs did so in the docks, plying their superior strength on manual labor. This reflected on the population of the docks, creating a ghetto where Defenders only showed up when something went wrong.

The locals and Defenders both preferred it that way, with being assigned a patrol in the district usually seen as a punishment. Security, such that it was, was provided mostly by gangs that were tolerated more than endorsed, and the place would be covered in tags were it not for automated cleaners scouring them away every night.

The threat of Defenders rolling in with a full power armor squad incentivized the gangs to behave themselves, mostly, and the two forces enjoyed a tentative peace maintained by a mutual respect for the other's firepower. A lone Defender walking around flying their colors, though, would be seen as an intruder, the same as a foreign gang infringing on territory.

The district never bothered Ashley, however. It was just a bit of a rough neighborhood to her. She didn't even mind patrolling it, and knew most of the major players by name. But, again, she was off-duty, so that wasn't what brought her here.

No, she was here for a weekly ritual. As the largest enclave of predators that could be said to be motivated by enlightened egoism, it was also the best place for those predators to find a legal place to eat. There were other areas, sure, but they were down dark alleys and featured questionable sanitation and mystery meat.

The regulation on predator eateries wasn't exactly stellar anywhere. Nominally, they were held to the same standards as any other Union restaurant, but when nobody cared about enforcing them, those standards started slipping. At the very least, her favorite place was one of the better ones, on par with a dive bar back home, with booze and atmosphere to match.

She'd long learned the proper way to conduct herself was to stay comfortable with where she was. That was the mistake so many Defenders made, but a lesson the Union citizens that lived in the docks could have told them. It wasn't true for most predators that they could smell your fear, but they sure as heck could spot a twitchy outsider that had their eyeballs swiveling in every direction.

She didn't go into the dim interior like she owned the place, either, though. That would be like challenging every predator inside. No, she only went in like she belonged, stopping only long enough to look for an open seat.

Most predators made for corners and walls, and the place wasn't big enough to have many tables out in the floor. That would have been fine for her, but even those were taken with the influx of workers coming off of their shift. The only place that always had open seating was the bar, itself, and that's where she headed.

"Ash!" the bartender greeted her. He was a bear of a man - literally - but ran the place between himself, his brother and their mates. His brother was the cook, and their mates waited tables. "Have a seat! You're late! Thought someone finally killed you!"

"Not for lack of trying," she admitted as she pulled out and sat on a barstool. "A Rendali hit District 4. Nearly brought the building down on me."

"Mean piss-ants," he growled as he popped a lid off of a brew and put it in front of her. "Never liked them bugs."

"I hear they can't stand each other, either," she answered after a pull of the illegally stout ale. It had to be labeled a hard liquor if it wanted to be legal. Of course, it also had to be produced with a license to be sold in an establishment, but she wasn't about to rat out the only place she could get a decent beer. "That's why they go out and cause everybody else trouble."

The big man scoffed. "Sounds like a double patty day."

"Please!" the human gushed. "And extra onion!"

"You'll have it," he replied. "Just got in a fresh shipment. I'll have Cond slice it up thick and raw for you."

Ashley sighed. "And this is why I'm your loyal customer."

"I make my living making sure carnivores are happy," he replied as he turned for the back. "It's all in a day's work. Shout when you're ready for another ale."

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Ah, and there it was, just as she finished off her first beer: Two patties, just as promised, sitting within a toasted bun and topped with melted cheese, thick slices of raw onion, a smoky sauce somewhere between A1 and barbecue, and one fried egg.

And, like clockwork, just as she was working up a good drool ...

"Hey, monkey girl!"

She groaned aloud and slumped in her seat. "Why do they always wait until the burger gets here?"

When it came to fights, the bar had only one rule, but it was ironclad: Whoever throws the first punch (or equivalent) picks up the bill for all of the damages. In theory, this was to keep fights down by making it expensive to start one, but those looking for fights just took to picking them indirectly. Insults and other harassment would fly until somebody's pride cracked and a first swing was made, anyway.

In this case, a great, big wolfman came stomping over to the bar. "What are you doing eating a thing like that, huh? Don't you know meat's for predators?"

Other customers guffawed as he slapped his big, furry, clawed hand down on top of the sandwich, scooped it away from her, and shoved the whole thing in his mouth at once.

The provocation was a blatant call to action. Surely, no predator would tolerate their food being taken right in front of them. If they did, they would be submitting to a position of inferiority to all who witnessed.

But Ashley just arched an eyebrow, because she recognized the wolfman's species.

The next moment, as the flavors flowed over his tongue, he seized up and began to hack and cough, struggling to upchuck as much of the sandwich as possible.

"Onions!" he gasped between hurls. "You're trying to poison me! Try'na kill me!"

"Oh, don't be such a baby," she scolded him. "You're the one who took my food! You should have been paying attention as soon as you noticed I was a primate!"

Back where he'd come from, though, a table of predators in the same logo'd uniform began to stir, having heard the wolfman's declaration.

"Did you hear that?"

"The monkey's trying to poison Gred!"

As they continued riling themselves up and began heading her way, Ashley sighed and pushed away from the bar before glancing to the barkeep. "You saw, right?"

"Yup," he nonchalantly replied as he dried a dish with a rag that probably didn't meet sanitation requirements. "Still doesn't count until they swing at you first."

"I know, I know," she replied as she got to her feet. She paused to look down at the still hunched and hacking wolf. "But seriously, your name's Gred? I'm sorry."

He growled, but she was already stepping over him to face his buddies.

Thinking she'd already started the fight with poison, they weren't holding anything back. She sidestepped the first open-taloned thrust, the actual opening swing, and drove her boot into the abdomen of the one coming in behind him.

The third came at her with a chair, but the place only used the cheap stuff. She guessed it wouldn't last more than one good hit, but she didn't particularly want that hit to be on her, so she bodied up to the bar to clear out of the way.

Sure enough, it slammed against the floor and shattered into splintered pieces, and she took the opportunity to grab her empty beer bottle and break it over the bridge of his nose.

"No killing," the barkeep warns with a bored tone. "Bodies draw cops like flies to the garbage."

"Really tying my hands, boss," she complained back. "I wasn't aiming to kill them, but they do kinda outnumber me!"

"Meant it for them."

"Oh."

The first swinger was coming back around, and this time, she grabbed him by his outstretched arm as it passed her and hurled him face first into the bar.

By this time, the rest of the bar was pumped up, cheering for one side or the other in an incomprehensible din while enterprising individuals were already surreptitiously taking bets. Normally, she wouldn't mind placing one, herself, but being in the three-on-one fight, she was instead wishing for a wingman. Fiffsy would have been great. She could pull off her boots and let those taloned kicks of her do some damage.

Instead, she had to do the kicking, herself, against Number Two, the only one still standing. She wasn't trained in kickboxing back home, but she rather liked learning the Chisay variant that kept the predator at bay. Particularly useful was that it taught to hook with the heel on swipes, where Chisay had a back talon. As a result, when she finally connected with his jaw, it was with a small, hard surface area, and she was pretty sure it his bone snapped before the momentum shoved his head away from her.

She took a moment to catch her breath in the silence that followed that last kick, but that was when Gred jumped up with a roar from behind her, wrapping her in a rear bear hug.

Her arms were pinned and her feet were lifted clear of the floor, so she swung her head back and rammed it into his snout. The impact drove him to yelp and loosen his grip enough that she could wedge it up. It wasn't enough to get loose, but it was enough to get it near her mouth.

His yelp turned into a howl as she bit down as hard as she could, and he threw her away from him. Ashley's body made one full turn in the air before she landed on the bar with her side. It knocked the wind out of her, but she forced herself to roll off of it.

She was holding her side, but he was holding his arm. Red matching the shade dribbling from her lip even as she spat to clear it out could be seen between his fingers.

Ashley forced a couple sharp breaths and exhaled as she released her side, training her attention on the wolfman across from her. If she couldn't wrap this up before his buddies rallied, she was going to get jumped from behind again.

Seeing her do that, Gred also released his arm and spread his limbs for combat.

She took the opportunity to nod toward his arm before wiping her mouth off with the back of her own. "You're going to want that looked at, by the way. Human bites are infectious."

He growled in annoyance. "Poison me twice, is that it?"

"No poison," she corrected. "Just infection. There's bloodborne bacteria in you now that can go straight to your heart."

"Then I've got time to put down a foul-mouthed monkey before I go!"

He lunged at her, but time seemed to slow down as he came. She slid her butt back up onto the bar to avoid his charge and spun about to mule kick him just as he turned for her again. Her foot connected with the underside of his jaw, snapping his head back as he stumbled backward.

His feet got entangled with Number Three's legs and he fell back, whacking his head against the edge of a table.

The room was quiet for five whole seconds. Even the cheering stopped. Then the silence was broken by a sharp clap from the bartender.

"Fight's over! Get the losers thrown out the door! Final talley's a broken chair, a ruined burger and damage to my bar! Collect your bets and get back to drinking, or you can join them!"

There were more than a few grumbling patrons who went back to their seats empty-handed, no doubt having thought the bunch of them were going to overtake one monkey. As Ashley returned to her seat, rubbing her side, however, the bartender moved back in front of her.

"So that's why they call you Apex, eh?"

She gave him an uncomfortable look. "Come on, Burot, you know I don't like bringing work here. Besides, it was closer than it looked. I actually owe the win to you and your tavern."

"How do you figure?"

"All of the crowding kept them from ganging up on me more than two at a time," she explained. "Gave me something to work with."

"Hmph. If that's the case, how about sharing the gratitude in creds?"

"Are you kidding?" Ashley scoffed. "I still haven't gotten my weekly burger! And gimme a couple more beers while you're at it."

"Heh, you got it. Miss Human, was it? It'll be right out."