Mayden Station Dock, Northwest Fringe,

Landing the Providence was always an ordeal. It wasn't due to any fault of Dell or even the ship. Instead, it was Paragon Techs to blame. Paragon Industries held the keys to FTL and were deeply in bed with the Coalition, to the point that most, if not all, FTL was owned by Paragon in some manner.

After a seemingly endless wave of questions, forms, and a few kickbacks to keep the inspectors happy, the Providence finally locked into the dock. At last, the pair of bounty hunters made it to Mayden Station proper.

As usual, the dock is a mess of the hustle and bustle; movers and shakers greeting clients stepping off company barges, and the light-fingered and keen-eyed pickpockets hidden among them size up newly arrived marks.

Domitia and Dell steer clear of the crowds and many of the aforementioned thieves, while the corpo types give them a wide berth.

Dell rides on Domitia's shoulder, as he often found crowds filled with people above a meter and a half taxing to navigate.

The first order of business is to get paid, and their “place of employment” isn't that far of a walk. The pair manage to get out from the throng of spacers and cut down a back alley that leads through the port markets. The smell of strange food and even dicier fruits and veggies line ramshackle stands, making an already narrow street even more narrow. The vendors bear the pair no heed, although they spare a glance just to keep an eye on the bounty hunters.

After passing through the alleyway, they dip into a small building labeled Coalition Currency Exchange Branch. Here, bounty receipts like the one Dell and Domitia had could be cashed out for the station's own script or whatever currency the two needed. Inside the exchange is merely a series of ATMs that several figures of various levels of shadiness huddle around. One of these figures looks over to the pair, nodding. He's a human, middle-aged, wearing a reasonable amount of armor, a belt of pistols across his barrel chest, and an unlit cigarette hanging from his mouth.

"Ah! Seems like the dynamic duo lives another day!"

"Hey! Meixer!" Dell waves at the fellow bounty hunter, "How's the hunting going?"

"Going better than I thought," He holds up a wad of cash, "Bail jumpers are pretty reliable. How's the pirate hunting?"

"Better than we thought," Dell brags a little, "Nabbed Vinnie the Smasher--"

"--Breaker." Domitia corrects her partner.

"Oh, who gives a shit," Dell retorts.

"Big pirate then?" Meixer asks, "How augged was he?"

"Standard fare." Domitia begins, "Toak arms, reinforced spine. Void skin. You know the type."

"Right. Brass addicts who just love the augs." Meixer replies, "Well, I got winnings to spend." He waves his cash before stuffing it in his pocket, zipping it, and finally buttoning it. "You know you oughta stick on Mayden for a minute. Plenty of Bounties to nab on this rust bucket. I gotta contact in Control if you ever need some easy marks."

"We'll keep it in mind." Domitia says, giving him a two-finger wave, "Good hunting."

Meixer grins, waves, and disappears through the door. The pair find a console on the wall and cash out their bounty. The fat stack of bills catches the eyes of some ne'er do wells hanging in the shop's corners, but the sight of the guns on Domitia and Dell deter them from following them as they leave.

"You know he's right." Domitia starts.

"Who?" Dell asks, counting their winnings while riding on his partner's shoulder.

"Meixer. Mayden has plenty of work we could cash into."

"Oh no, no, no," Dell snatches his share with his tail as he turns to face Domitia, "We need to make money. Real money!"

"Yet we never seem to make enough," Domitia counters, "Besides, it would be nice to do some stuff station side. Community service and all."

"Oh, sister!" Dell rolls across Domitia's shoulders, popping up on her left shoulder, "This shit again? Come on, Dom, you do enough community service scraping scum like Vinnie out of the cracks of society."

"Doesn't it bother you that they're out as soon as we put them in?" Domitia retorts.

"Then kill them if it bothers you that much," Dell said, rolling his eyes.

"I did that," Domitia crosses her arms, "You got mad at me because 'We don't make money on corpses!'"

Dell slaps his face, "Okay," He sighs, "That's... On me."

The Bellator rolls her eyes, burying a rising disappointment, "Well, if this lead pans out, we’ll both get what we want."

"I guess." Dell then handed Domitia her half of the bounty, "Listen, the ship needs some maintenance. I'll send you a list of parts, do a little shopping, and hit up my contact."

Domitia took her half but shook her head, "Not letting you go alone."

Dell sighs, "Dom, you're not exactly subtle. I know the guy, he's a little... jumpy. You might spook him."

"And askin' about Flynt won't?" Domitia asks.

Dell pulls out his comb and runs it through his hair, thinking, "You got a point."

"I trust you to handle the meeting, but I'm tired of others taking an interest." Domitia explains, "If a 'nobody' like Vinnie knew, then a 'somebody' probably knows for sure."

"Right, right, fine. Just gotta set things up," Dell motions, "Come on, I'll lead ya."

The pair of bounty hunters begin to wander through the station. Trips to Mayden were frequent, so the two rarely got lost. As Dell directs Domitia through the winding streets of Mayden, the Bellator ponders the possibility of Flynt being alive. The bastard was infamous for his brutality, and the terror he struck scarred generations for years. The idea that some view him as a hero makes her hands clench hard enough to break skin; that such a wretch could be upheld as a hero sickens her. The mere possibility that he escaped justice after the Firebrand's destruction causes a flame to rise in her that she hasn't felt in a while. A desire to right the wrong and ensure he meets his final judgment. For the first time in a long time, a spark ignites somewhere within Domitia. Something human in her screams to right the wrong, to put Jericho out of his misery and free the galaxy of his presence once and for all.

"There! Wait. No, there!" Dell points to an inconspicuous hole in the bulkhead dive.

Domitia looks over and cringes, the flickering neon sign above blinking a suitable name: The Bucket. It's a rusty-looking establishment, built out of what might've been shipping containers at some point, with doors and windows cut into the thin-looking metal. Dell hopped off his partner's shoulder and took the lead; he turned around, raising an assuring hand.

"What?" Dell asks, "I told you, he’s pretty careful--."

“--Paranoid--” Domitia interjects.

"So he's not gonna just meet me! I gotta set up an appointment," He motions to the diner, "Besides, I could use a beer."

"Hmm," Domitia looks over the place, "Does my food come in a bucket?"

Dell raises a finger, "One you get to keep! They even personalize it for you."

Domitia hoped her joke question wouldn't get a real answer, "Think I'll just have a drink. Not too hungry right now."

"Oh, come on, you big ugly ox, I know you're hungry!" Dell motions his partner to follow.

The inside isn't any better than the outside.

The smell of burning oil and rusty metal invades Domitia's senses. She walks with a hunch, her blue hair collecting flakes of peeling paint as she walks through the entrance. Dell manages to find an empty seat at the lunch counter; Domitia chooses to stand next to her partner, uncertain if she wants to trust the thin and fragile barstools.

Behind the counter, a tired, oily-looking human works feverishly at several kitchen stations. Flipping patties of meat, toasting bread that said meat will go upon, and checking on the fried sides that will go with said meat on toasted bread. Finally, he gets a free moment and swings around. He blinks, taking in Domitia at first, the sight of the nearly seven-foot woman putting him on edge. That is until Dell snaps his finger.

"Hey! Hey! Old man! Get me something cold to drink!"

He shakes his head, the cook's wits returning to him, "Ah, wait your turn, space gremlin!"

"Hey! That's racist!" Dell holds a handful of singles, "But I'll forget about it if you grab a beer for me!"

The cook then looks Dell over, laughing, "Always good to see ya, Dell!" Then, he looks to Domitia, "Have a seat! You're making me nervous."

The Bellator surveys the stool before carefully lowering herself onto the one next to Dell, eliciting a groan from it as she finally sits.

The cook looks over to Dell, "Who's your date?"

Dell laughs, "Ain't my type; she's my partner."

"Ah! The famous Domitia, finally gracing me with your presence," The cook says with a wry smile.

"And you are?" Domitia asks.

"Lee, Lee Anderson! Best cook this side of the station." Lee said with a mock salute. "Hungry? You look it! I got some Hagen Tail in the freezer. Toak's love that shit, and judging by your size, I think you'd polish it off fine!"

"Not here to eat." Dell says with a smile, "Just a drink."

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"Right..." Lee says with a nod, "Well, I gotta make a call; you kids don't burn the place down while I'm gone."

Dell took a swig of his beer, cringing a bit as he swallowed, "Fuck. Love this swill."

Domitia takes a whiff and a sip; smacking her lips together, she looks over at Dell and asks, "Why?"

"It's the bite." Dell explains, "It's like a good fight, but in your mouth."

Domitia shakes her head, "If I wanted a fight, I'd look for one."

Lee reappears, taking his post at the bar, slamming a handful of coins on the metal tabletop, "Here's your change, bud."

Hidden underneath the pile of change, Dell pulls out a slip of paper, reading it briefly before nodding and finishing his beer in one swig.

"Keep it! You probably need it to keep the lights on!" Dell says, knocking the bar and hopping off the stool.

Domitia follows her partner's lead, finishing her drink in one swig, and gives the bar a good knock. As she stands, she bangs her head on the low ceiling, letting out a belch as she does. The Bellator then dusts the rust out of her hair and nods at the cook, who awkwardly waves in return. Finally, Domitia steps out of the restaurant, finally able to stand at full height; she looks over to Dell, who is doing his best to suppress a laugh.

"Not a word." Domitia says, raising a finger, "Not. A. Word."

"I mean..." Dell punches himself in the arm to keep himself from laughing, "Not even one?"

Domitia levels a look that would kill lesser beings, which gives Dell enough reason to sigh in defeat, "Fine. Fine. I won't rub salt in your already wounded pride."

"Where we going?" Domitia asks.

"Down."

----

Going down isn't easy on a station that houses millions. Something as mundane as an elevator now has to accommodate the travel of hundreds, maybe even thousands of people an hour. While the Suits can access private landing pads or exclusive elevators, most ride the communal lifts.

Intended to transport freight and heavy equipment, the large platforms now ferry the transient citizens of Mayden. Crammed in the elevator, Domitia keeps one hand on her pistol and another on her wallet. Dell stays on her shoulder, toying with his phone while the lift goes down.

The diverse nature of Mayden's guests is on full display while on the lift. All walks of life can be seen standing, sitting, or leaning somewhere on the lift. In one of the corners, an illegal food stand had been set up, selling a kind of meat wrapped in white bread dripping with grease. A gaggle of konii gathers around it, tall, furry ears twitching in delight as they munch on the wrap. Domitia's eyes catch the gaze of a toak dressed in traditional robes and armor, a hand placed upon his weapon. His predatory eyes lock with Domitia's, and he then nods respectfully. One warrior to another. Domitia returns the nod before she checks the display above the door.

'Level 13-17.'

"Four more levels," Domitia whispers to Dell.

"Argh," Dell groans, "Can't this damn thing go any faster!"

"For legal reasons, I don't think it can," Domitia remarks.

"Legal reasons?" Dell snorts, "In the Fringe? Nah! Probably just a broken down piece of shit that needs maintenance."

A ding signals the next floor, "Level 13-16. Pash District," The synthetic voice announces, "Please, cause no trouble, and have a great day." There's a pause before it adds, "And now, a word from our sponsor!"

"Paragon Industries has always been at the frontier of Limnal Travel. Why not come out to that frontier--"

"Agh, this shit again!" Dell jeers, drowning out the ad, "Fucking Paragon. You own the market; why do you need to advertise?"

"Probably because they want to remind people who really owns this station," Another voice joins in.

Domitia looks over, Dell hopping over to the other shoulder to get a look. The voice belongs to a woman with augmented eyes that sparkle like blue gems. The thin lines of cybernetics run down from her eyes toward the back of her neck, obscured by the hood of her red jacket. She squints as if trying to get a closer look, the augmented eyes focusing on Domitia.

"Sorry kid," Dell chimes in, "We met before?"

She blinks, finally saying, "No... We haven't."

"Level 13-15."

The shuffling crowd begins, and the woman follows the flow of transients, leaving Dell and Domitia on the elevator. The Bellator cracks her knuckles, pondering who the woman might've been. Instinct tells her actions were deliberate, but to what end, she didn't know.

"You alright?" Dell asks his partner.

"Think so," Domitia says, rolling her shoulders, "You might be right; think I'm getting hungry."

"Well, a little late for that," Dell replies, "We have work to do. 'Sides, our stop is here."

"Welcome to Level 13-14," The artificial voice chimes as Dell and Domitia walk onto the station, "The home of tomorrow, here today!"

Dell looks out over the wasteland of a neighborhood, "Shit, surprised the lights are on," He mutters, motioning to the large light above them that illuminated some of the level.

Domitia hums, "Station must be doing well to justify that act of charity."

Level 13-14 was supposed to be the next best thing for Mayden station. A housing development, complete with all the trappings of real planet side real estate.

Lawns with 'real' grass, tall trees to provide shade from the artificial sunlight, and quaint houses made of wood and stone. It was a project made with corporate manufactured well wishes.

The Builder League, a Paragon subsidiary, was tasked with making this dream a reality. Unfortunately, the newly formed branch of the company seemed to only exist at the whims of an unknown board member who had a new fixation on their mind. As such, what was supposed to be a straightforward project spun quickly into failure and was left to rot well before construction was fully finished.

Despite never being finished, the level was opened for people to move in. Due to its incomplete nature and insane prices, much of 13-14 is a wasteland of bland, incomplete houses. Barely lit by the 'sun' above and the flickering street lamps that dotted the sidewalks.

Luckily, the Builder League had finished the streetcar, making traversing the level easy. Going from one form of public transportation to another, the pair hop on, finding only a handful of other people in the car. They’re older, well-to-do station residents who give Domitia and Dell sideline glares.

The few residents who live on the level are the die-hards who supported the project from day one and still stuck with it. Hoping that maybe one-day Paragon will remember this level and finish the job. The other half of the populace are squatters. Due to the sheer size of Mayden, station security couldn't be everywhere all at once, so 13-14 developed a reputation for being 'cheap' living if you were quiet enough.

"Are you planning on moving in?" Asks an older konii, the hair on his ears and around his nose a stark grey compared to his black fur.

"Here to see a friend," Domitia snaps, not wanting to start a conversation.

The old man, however, does want to talk, "Oh, how lovely, a boyfriend?"

Domitia sighs as she feels Dell suppress a chuckle. "No."

"Oh, is he your boyfriend," He points at Dell with his cane.

"Oh well--"

"Absolutely not." Domitia cuts Dell off, "We're partners."

"Oh! So you're married!"

"No!"

"Oh, there's nothing to worry about," He says with a wheezing chuckle. "Here in 13-14, we're open to interspecies couples."

Domitia whispers to Dell, "Where is the meet?"

"It's going to be in the Dark," Dell whispers back. "End of the line on this car."

The Dark meant the incomplete blocks of the district. Security only checked the area once a month to force out any homeless camped in the half-built homes. If you wanted to meet with someone without prying eyes watching, you met in the Dark. So long as no guns were drawn, everything would be nice and quiet, just like Dell promised.

"Oh, you're going into the dark?!" The old konii asks, "That's dangerous."

"We do a dangerous job, gramps." Dell retorts.

He scoffs, "You youngsters have no idea what real work is!" Then, he begins his ramble, "I was a data broker for Paragon! That was real work!"

"Oh yeah?" Dell pretends to listen, "What's that?"

The old man doesn’t reply to Dell, choosing instead to ramble on, "I worked tirelessly to ensure that the company gears turned right! Correcting and managing data entered into our system by our drone-keyers," He leans and whispers, "Low-level AIs."

"I know what those are," Dell said.

"It's a bit of a secret," He whispers loudly, "AI isn't supposed to be anywhere near the Net. But we engineered some quirks into them." He added a wink to it. "But it was a living! A real living! Enough for me to live here! Among the stars, but in the comfort of my own home!"

This goes on for some time, enough time for Domitia and Dell to forget most of what the old konii says. Still, the ride seems to go on forever; even after the old man gets off, the street car makes strange twists and turns, clearly meant to take people to all the 'hot spots' that were never really finished. Dead shopping centers, empty swimming pools, an incomplete park, and finally into the Dark.

Only street lamps' flickering light illuminate things enough for the pair to see. Here the homes turn into incomplete frames and half-painted shells. It at least broke up the monotony of seeing the same homes repeatedly, Domitia thinks. Dell hops off Domitia's shoulder, looking at the passing street signs, eventually pointing at one.

"Here." Dell declared confidently. "Just down this street."

'Dawn Street' is, by some small irony, by far the darkest of the streets. Close to the station wall, the cold of space seems to slip in, the one flickering light highlighs perhaps one of the few completed homes on the street. Domitia also notes that it’s wholly different from all the other 13-14 houses. A slim, three-story building that peaked with a spire upholding a totem.

"Now that's interesting," Dell said.

"Looks Konii," Domitia points to the peak of the home, "Family Totem."

"Oh yeah, you're right." Dell said, a small smirk coming over him, "Guess all those cartoons you watch are paying off."

"They're not cartoons, Dell." Domitia defends herself.

"Right." Dell says, "Well, as it happens to be, our boy is in there." He points to the street lamp. "Stay out of the light; I'm going in."

Domitia hums, "Feels like a trap."

"Eh, well." Dell thinks about saying something but instead waves goodbye, "If it is, hopefully they’ll kill us quickly."

That cold comfort sticks with Domitia as she takes her post, keeping an eye on the house but sticking out of the light. She finds a comfortable spot by a stack of building materials, giving good cover in a gunfight. There’s something sublime about the whole scene; the only completed house on the block is illuminated by a singular flickering light. It did remind Domitia of one of the movies she'd watched: a young girl who runs away from home to escape her parents and ends up living in the magically moving house of a witch. A strange sensation rises unbidden in the back of her mind; the vague memory of sweet-tasting drinks and the feeling of walking on a shaggy carpet.

The Bellator refocuses her attention as something catches her eye. In the gloom of Dawn Street, Domitia catches a faint orange glow. It takes a moment, but she soon realizes the glow is a cigarette. As the glow grows closer, she hears the gravel crunch behind her.

As naturally as she can, she rolls her shoulders and mimics cracking her neck, allowing her to glimpse a third stranger across the street, hiding in a house across from the konii house. Domitia already put it together that these shadowy figures, more than likely, had ill intent. She knows she's already been spotted, but she’s unsure if they know she’s on to them.

While enhanced more by her armor, her natural hearing is still sharper than most, allowing her to pick out that only the smoker is growing closer. Her sharp eyesight lets her recognize who it is as he grows closer to the light. It's then Domitia stepped out and towards the flickering light of the street lamp.

"Meixer." Domitia greets her fellow bounty hunter.

"Domitia." He replies with a smile; he takes a drag on his cigarette before a shadow crosses over him, his face becoming solemn, "Where's Dell."

It’s more a formality than a question.

"Inside." Domitia kept her hands at her side, "We had an appointment."

"That right, huh?" Meixer takes one last drag of his cigarette before tossing it to the ground and stomping it out, "Well, ain't that odd. Cause I do too."

The Bellator opts to play dumb. She knows Meixer has someone behind her and someone to her flank. Yet there's a chance Meixer and their friends don't know she's onto them. The one behind her is getting closer, his feet subtly dragging on the sidewalk. It's a gamble, but Domitia thinks if she plays it cool enough, she can turn the tables on her would-be ambushers.

"Guess they doubled booked." Domitia says with a shrug, "'Sides. Don't know why you'd be interested. From what I'm told, this guy's specialty is off-station work."

"Well..." Meixer puts a hand on his pistol, "This is on station work." He narrows his eyes at the Bellator, "We're friendly, so I'm going to ask you to move along. Just pretend you didn't see me."

"Not without Dell." Domitia says, crossing her arms, "He and I go way back."

"I won't harm Dell, and I'll send him on his way to you once I'm done here," Meixer says, Domitia picking up on the lie and the brief but deliberate glance past the Bellator.

Domitia feels the person behind her shift forward. Still, before they can get a grip on her, the Bellator sidesteps, brutally kicking out their knee before dashing behind them, grabbing the Toak in an arm lock, and pressing her hand cannon to his head.

Domitia pulls the hammer back, "You were never good at lying, Meixer."

Meixer pulls his pistol, aiming it at Domitia, "Let's think about this."

"Pretty simple to me," Domitia says plainly, "You and your friend across the street drop your guns."

Meixer narrows his eyes, "Across the street?"

Before Domitia can process this, automatic fire rips across the block. Domitia dives back, throwing her hostage to her right, causing the Toak to tumble away from the gunfire. Domitia finds cover in her previous hiding spot, bullets rippling across it. Instinct takes over as she repositions herself into a low crouch behind the building materials, pistol at the ready.

She quickly surveys her surroundings. Meixer lies motionless on the ground, a pool of blood forming underneath the flickering street light. She looks behind, seeing the toak writhing on the ground, gripping his side, clearly having been hit by the hail of bullets.

More gunfire catches her attention as she gazes at the konii house. Several bolts of energy light up the windows on the upper floor. Domitia recognizes them as rounds from a Volt-11 PDW, definitely Dell's. Her partner’s in trouble, but before she can formulate a plan, the hail of bullets returns, peppering Domitia's position.

Without armor, Domitia is as vulnerable to bullets as anyone else; certainly stronger and faster than most, but not immortal. Realizing she's exposed, she targets the one thing that can give her an edge, the light. Firing a single shot, she eliminates the only light on the street, bathing it all in darkness.

She leaps from behind her cover and dashes toward the house. The gunfire lights up her assailant, or rather, assailants. Two were skinny-looking Konii, and one was human, augmented, but Domitia didn't have the time to fully assess them. Instead, she returns fire, three shots that seem to silence the guns for a moment. As Domitia dashes past Meixer, she can hear his wheezing, pained breath, nearly causing her to pause. Yes, he had intended to harm or even kill her, but he had been a comrade once, but Dell mattered more. She leaps up the stairs just as the sounds of gunfire begin once more and smashes through the door.

The Bellator fought the urge to cry out for her friend, but the sound of laser fire told her all she needed to know. She advances up the stairs as quickly and carefully as possible, checking her corners as she does. Upon entering the second-floor landing, a silhouette rushes down the hall. Domitia nearly blasts the figure apart before recognizing the form of Dell riding on its back. Before it can smash him against a wall, another laser discharge lances him through the chest, and the human falls to the ground, smoking.

"Fuck me!" Dell says, spitting out some blood, "Bastards nearly got--"

Domitia grabs Dell by the shirt and pulls him out of the hall, away from the windows. The moment she does so, gunfire rakes the hall where Dell had just been. The pair of bounty hunters retreat down the stairs, Dell taking a position on his partner's shoulder, the sound of energy cells recharging whirling in Domitia's ear.

"Fuck--" Dell grumbles, "Os is dead! Found him upstairs, either someone beat us here or--"

"Quiet." Domitia orders, listening carefully for any movement outside.

After straining her ears for a while, she sighs as she hears something else. Not guns nor footfalls, but the shrill cry of station security sirens. It takes Dell a moment before he hears it too, and a flood of cursing flows from his mouth.

"Fucking bastards. Can't have shit on this station, can you!" He growls, "They gutted him, Dom. Gutted him! Like a fish! Ripped out his augs and spread them out like they were slaughtering an animal."

"Were they looking for something?" Domitia asks as she gets herself ready to face the cops.

Dell sighs, "Yeah, yeah, they were," He holds up a blood-covered augment, a bit of brain matter still on it, "Nurel sync. Probably to back up any critical data he heard on the street."

"Can you get into it?" Domitia asks.

"Well--" The sound of a cop grav-bike screaming over the house drowns Dell out; after it passes, he sighs and says, "--If we had the time."