Mayden Station Security Hold, Mayden Station, Northwest Fringe

The buzzing lights of the interrogation room are one of the many contributing factors to the growing rage Domitia kept chained within her. Station security was about as reasonable and rational as they always were; they presumed Dell and Domitia were involved in some sort of ganger activity and arrested them both. To add insult to injury, they didn't even check the wounded, leaving Meixer and his hired help to bleed to death after all was said and done.

"What do you think?" Dell breaks the silence.

Domitia sighs, "At worse, we spend some time in the slammer. That’s if they need someone to blame."

"None of us started this." Dell retorts.

"You think it matters? Security wants its pound of flesh. We're on the block."

Dell grumbles, "If anything, I'm more insulted with this get-up!"

Due to their Augments and known history of violence, the pair of bounty hunters had been placed on chairs with mag-locked shackles. For Domitia, the chair force her arms close to her side, and Dell has to be boosted by a stack of books to fit on his. Naturally, that got a smile out of Domitia. Still, past that, it was the only thing remotely 'funny' about this whole circumstance.

Still, at this point, it's all a waiting game now. Domitia figures that an officer is watching them on some hidden camera, waiting. Probably wanting to see if either of the bounty hunters will start to show signs of fatigue or maybe even guilt. This isn't the first, nor the last time, that either Domitia or Dell have had a run-in with the law. Violence is often a part of the gig, so if something goes sideways, the chances some cops will show up are always high.

The door opens, and an officer steps in. He's a konii, with silver and black fur and two boxy augments replacing his eyes. He hobbles over with a mechanical leg, sitting at the other end of the table. He folds his hands on the table and sighs. Domitia realizes who it is: Dru, a security officer who had worked with the pair several times. The recent cybernetic replacements for his eyes threw Domitia off for a moment.

"Guys... What the fuck." The statement isn't a question but merely a general expression of disappointment.

"Dru, if we knew this was going to be as fucked up--"

"You went into the Dark, Dell," Dru's hand goes to his head, rubbing right behind his right ear, twitching a little in stress, "You knew it was going to fucked up regardless of what happened."

"Come on, old pal," Dell says, trying to remain somewhat chummy, "You know us. We wouldn't go off blasting without reason."

"I know, and I owe ya'll a favor or two," He gave a glare across the table, and while his organic eyes were gone, the feeling of frustration could still be felt, "But my hands are tied. Security wants its pound of flesh. Give me--"

The door swings open, and a lanky-looking figure walks in with the grace of a machine made of meat. His skin is pallid and mildly wet with sweat. His suit is ill-fitting, with the collar buttoned too tight and the jacket hanging loosely over the shoulders.

Dru raises an eyebrow before asking, "Can I help you with something."

There’s an awkward pause before he says, "Yes. You can stop speaking to my clients."

Dru looked over to Domitia and Dell, raising an eyebrow. Domitia feels unnerved by the lanky human - the way he stands, arms at his side, data pad in one hand, remind her of an animate statue. His motions are oddly fluid, as if they’re practiced gestures rather than natural ticks. The man reeks of corpo energy, and the Bellator doesn’t like it.

"Please, sir," The man says.

"Um, what--"

"Give me some time with my clients," He says, bringing up the data pad and showing his credentials, "I represent the Builder League. We know that Domitia Sejanus and Dell Caliger have done a great service keeping the streets clean. We will," He pauses, slowly bringing a clenched fist to his mouth and then coughing into it, "Gladly cover any damages these heroes might've caused. Along with any legal fees."

Dru looks the data pad over once, then twice, and finally a third time before saying, "Shit, alright." Dru taps a button on his vambrace, releasing the bonds on Domitia and Dell, "Y'all are free to go."

Dell sighs, stretching before saying, "Finally, I'm starved."

Domitia stands up and looks over the lanky lawyer, "Who sent you."

"The Builder League, ma'am." He says, then smiles in only the way a stock photo can.

"No..." Domitia looms over the man. A strange odor hits her nose, reminding her of tofu. "Who. Sent. You."

Before he can speak, Dell intervenes.

"Dom," Dell leaps onto her shoulder, "Don't look a ship in the exhaust. Let's get something to eat."

"Yes, indeed." The lawyer says, adjusting his tie, "We at the Builder League merely appreciate good folks such as yourself."

Domitia glances at Dell, then the lawyer, and sighs, "Come on, let's get going."

-----

Food at Mayden station isn't luxurious. Sure, high-end restaurants can be found in Skyside, made with real animals and plants. However, for the vast majority of those on the station, most food is vat-grown. There is nothing inherently wrong with it, but with all the regulations surrounding cloning, most stations bring in the lowest bidder to do the job. Hence why Giria Labs have cornered the market in the quick-service restaurant business.

'Star-Bitz' is one of the more prominent ones, and the restaurant of choice for Dell and Domitia to have a quiet word over a bite to eat. It also helps that it’s nearly midnight station time, so most are either asleep or already hard at work on third shift. The food isn't great, all of it having that plastic, glassy taste that comes from low-quality vats. Yet it does the job for Domitia, the restaurant having options for those in need of a lot of proteins and calories to help them work their augs. The 'Star-Krakken Platter' is just a pile of vat-grown fish and some veggies haphazardly thrown in. Supposedly it’s a 'Toak Delicacy,' yet Domitia has never heard any Toak she fought alongside ever talk about it. Dell settles something smaller - a simple 'Solar-Soup and Sandwich,' which was cold tomato soup and a floppy cheese and meat sandwich.

"You'd think for a quick service restaurant, the food would still be hot," Dell moans.

"You'd think." Domitia looks around, checking if the restaurant is truly empty.

Star-Bitz didn't have staff unless you counted the roaming worker drones that moved around on stumpy legs. Whoever owns this particular franchise had dressed the drones in short skirts and crop tops. None of the clothes fit properly and look painted onto the bulking automatons.

"So," Dell begins after finishing the last bite of his sandwich, "Did you just want to go to jail or what?"

Domitia sighs, "I just wanted to know who really bailed us out."

"Don't ask dumb questions like that," Dell says, "Sometimes it's better not knowing." He points towards the 'order wall.’ A series of small cubbies where the bots in the kitchen put the food once it's been cooked, "You really wanna know what goes on in there?"

"You and I both know that everyone has a boss," Domitia says, sipping on her grape soda, her favorite drink, "Ours happens to be automated, and on such a large scale we aren't noticed."

"Your point?" Dell asks.

"Someone noticed us," Domitia says gravely, "Someone who might know more than what someone at the Bounty Board could tell." She leans in, "When was the last time you heard anyone call me Sejanus?"

Dell considers this for a moment, taking a sip out of a cup of subpar coffee, "Well, nothin’s happened yet. So why bother worrying about it." He gets on the table, hands in his pockets, leaning against the glass, "Sometimes you gotta take that risk."

Domitia hums, looking out into the empty restaurant, watching the drones march by in their ridiculously tight outfits. Mulling it over in her head, she realizes her partner was right, but that didn't mean it set her right. The Bellator can't help but shake the feeling of puppet strings tightening around her. She can't be someone else's puppet, not again.

"Compromise then," Domitia finishes her soda, looking Dell in the eyes as she says, "We take our winnings and make for new hunting grounds. Sounds to me like we might be in trouble in these parts."

Dell shrugs, "Can't blame ya. With Os dead, it's probably for the best we get a move..."

Domitia and Dell turn their attention to the waiter drone watching them. Domitia looks to Dell, who gives a shrug; the grumlian clears his throat and asks, "Can I help ya?"

"No." A woman's voice answers, "But I can help you," The drone then points out the window.

Outside, the station is dead. A handful hurry left and right, up and down the street outside, yet only one sits quite smugly, Domitia notes. Her artificial eyes shine a dull blue in the low light of the nearby streetlamp, the wiring of augments matching, standing out starkly on her dark skin. With her hood down, Domitia can see the full extent of her augments; the top of her head is partly replaced with a data processor, giving the impression of a crown.

"You were the one on the elevator," Domitia notes.

"Name's Murci," The hacked bot says, "Security isn't too tight there; I'd turn off my phone, Dell. Your shit Elo rank is showing."

Dell grumbled, "I play for fun, you techie."

"That's what losers say," Murci remarked through the bot, "Now. You done giving up, or do you want your lead?"

Dell looked at the bot, then across the street, then back at the bot, finally choosing to narrow his eyes on the bot's visor, "Whatcha want?"

"Not much," Murci answered, "Just a cut. Say forty-five."

"I'd kill you before I'd give you forty-five." Dell growls,"' Sides, I'd only pay mine twenty."

"I'll settle with thirty," Murci said, Domitia hearing the smile in those words.

"What exactly do you have?" Domitia asked, "What's buying you that thirty percent?"

"Os' backup." Murci remarks casually, the robot and the hacker herself both rolling their wrists, "I happen to know where it is."

"Right, now you're fucking with us," Dell says disrespectfully, "Os was good. Real good."

"And he and I ran in the same circles. Although mine was more about finding the what's versus his who's." Murci explained, "Net-heads on Mayden stick together. We don't fuck with each other, and we cover each other if something goes wrong. Os trusted me with his place. Get me there, and I can get what you're looking for."

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

"Why the fuck haven't you done that yourself?" Dell asks.

"Seems like you're capable," Domitia adds.

"I'm not that much of a fighter, and I got two bounty hunters who'll crack heads for a cool ten million." Then leans onto the table, "Problem is Os' place is being sat on by some gangers. Waiting for Security to unlock it so people can legally loot it.

"I just need some muscle. Nothing too serious, just strong enough looking that they'll leave me be," The bot leans forward and extends a hand, "We got a deal?"

There’s an apprehensive pause as Dell and Domitia both mull it over. Domitia knows her answer; despite the risk and the looming shadow of someone taking an interest in things, the Bellator cannot deny the desire to hunt down Flynt. There is still a chance, and she would take it.

She looks over to Dell, the grumlian mulling it over himself. Domitia can guess his answer, a measured response between risk and reward. Dell scratches underneath his chin, giving Domitia a look.

"You want him, don't you?" Dell asks.

Domitia sits up straight, "He was a monster. Putting him away would do everyone good. Real good."

"And I like getting paid," Dell took the bot's hand, "Got yourself a deal."

-----

Os's neighborhood was exactly what Domitia would expect from a hacker - secure and inconspicuous.

Level 13-20 was the' Business District' of the station; many of the corpo offices and governmental halls are found on this level. The level is lousy with suits and g-men making their way from one bureaucratic nightmare to another. Most of the offices contain nothing but rudimentary androids that can file and accept paperwork so other people can then fill out and file that paperwork again. Only those with extreme patience or the right amount of cash could endure such things to get things done on Mayden the fair and legal way.

So most people didn't bother going through Level 13-20 to get things done.

"So what is he?" Domitia asked, "Works for a corp?"

"Freelance Data-Tech," Murci stated, "Algorithms can't fix themselves, legally, anyway."

"Boring work, but it pays well from what I've heard," Dell admits, "Shit I've had half a mind to do it if this doesn't work out."

Domitia snorts at that.

"What?" Dell asks, looking up at her.

"You like flying too much," Domitia says, "You'd get bored and find some other way to get yourself back into the stars."

Dell prepares to give a witty retort but sighs instead, "Got me dead to rights there, Dom."

The trio move through the level, leaving the strict business side of the district and finding themselves in the more high-class party side of town. After passing by one last no-nothing office, Domitia is greeted with swanky music and the smell of nicotine smoke. The hall has innumerable bars and lounges flanking the bounty hunters, each one filled with more suits than the last. Most are busily chortling among themselves over unreasonably expensive drinks. Some give the trio looks as they pass, whispering among themselves, giving looks to their own augged out bodyguards who keep an eye on the strangers passing by.

"Didn't expect to see this much brass," Dell says, looking over to Murci, who takes the lead, "This normal?"

"More than normal," Murci states, "Ever since the incident on Komlou, corpos have been especially twitchy."

"The what?" Dell asks, shaking his head, "Haven't been keeping up with the news."

Murci takes a quick look over either shoulder before slowing her gait to walk next to Dell, "Word is Paragon iced a delegation from Giara Med-Tech. No one knows exactly what happened, but there's worries of a corpo war."

"Coalition taking any steps?" Domitia asks.

Murci laughs, "Shit, you expect them to do something?"

Domitia grumbles, "Sorry, got nostalgic for a moment."

"Right, when the government did things," Dell says with a chuckle.

"Where's his place?" Domitia asks, changing the topic of discussion.

"Through here, he has a place behind one of these lounges," Murci says.

As they pass through the hall of bars, Murci leads the bounty hunters around a corner into a narrow alleyway that loops back towards the bar hall. The alleyway opens up again, showing what is clearly the back end of the bars. The ceiling stretches up far above the trio, steam from the various kitchens filling the alley, giving the impression of hot clouds overhead. Workers populate the alley, busily hopping in and out of the bars, tossing trash or grabbing boxes filled with more libations.

Towards the end of the hall, a group of well-dressed thugs buzzed around one particular doorway. While their clothes vary in level of cheapness and style, they all share the same bright green colors that could be found everywhere in their outfits. Weapons can be plainly seen in ill-fitting holsters or tucked into equally loose-fitting pants.

"Emerald Snakes," Dell chuckles, "Shit, I didn't know they were still kicking around."

"Friends of yours?" Domitia asks.

"Friends? Mother Void, no!" Dell then cackles, "No, no, no, just some cannon fodder, nothing to really worry about."

Domitia gives Murci a look, "You really need us for this?"

"Hey, I ain't a fighter," The hacker holds up her hands, "Gotta keep these clean."

"Right."

"Ain't too bad," Dell says, "Knock one down, and the rest'll start tumbling over."

"We do this without bloodshed," Domitia declares, "No reason to bring Security down on us again."

"Fair point," Dell replies.

"Sure you can do that?" Murci asks. "Heard these gangers are immune to reason."

"Ain't reason we're gonna use."

Dell leaps upon Domitia's shoulder, and the pair of bounty hunters approach the gangers. The Emerald Snakes had been passing around a bottle of liquor when the bounty hunters get close enough to hear their conversation, something about Drone War teams. When they realize that Dell and Domitia are in their presence, they tense up, many putting their hands on their faux-gold plated guns. Their leader, a human with a pallid complexion, gold teeth, and a cheap cybernetic eye, walked up to them, PDW held in his hand loosely, pointed at the floor.

"What you doin? Wanna drink?" He holds up a half-empty bottle of champagne, his fake accent grating on Domitia's ears.

"I ain't thirsty right now." Dell begins, "Now, how about you and your boys let my friends and me in. Got to get things for the funeral."

"Funeral?"

"That's right." Dell lies smoothly, "Os was a good friend, and I gotta get in and pick out things we're gonna send him into the void with."

"Nah, nah mate," He points his pistol at the door, "Boss says I's gotta watch the place, make sure no one gets in, you know."

"And I respect that." Dell points at the kid, "Really do. Gotta ask, how much are they paying you?"

"Wot?"

"You know." Dell rubs his fingers together, "What's the cut."

"What? Think you can buy my loyalty?!" He brought his gun up, but he had his PDW snatched out of his hands by Domitia.

The Bellator took apart the PDW bit by bit, expertly disassembling it and leaving it at the feet of the wannabe gangster. The rest of the Emerald Snakes stepped up, and Domitia gave them a heavy-lidded glare.

"I'm gonna ask you again," Dell looks the kid over, "How much?"

"Cold five-gs."

"Five thousand?" Dell chuckled, "You know how much a cybernetic arm is?" Dell answers his own question, "For a shit one, six and a half." He tapped Domitia on the head, "So even if you live through my partner here taking off one of your arms, you're gonna have to beg one of your boys here to pay for a new one, which by the way, probably doesn't have a full range of motion."

The ganger took a step back, looking at his fellow gangsters, who all gave him similarly shakey looks.

"So how about it," Dell asks, "Want a new arm?"

"Fuck this." He motions for his gangers to follow, "C'mon boys. Let's get out of here."

The Emerald Snake slither away, walking, then running as they tried to get distance from the pair of bounty hunters. Murci whistles as she comes up to join the two of them.

"Gotta say. I'm impressed." Murci gives Dell a grin, "Maybe you ain't such a loser after all."

She then walks over and opens the door.

Os' apartment is a cramped, dark place. Even with all the lights on, most of the apartment is still cast in shadow. The living room is a mess of empty bottles and take-out containers. Domitia walks with a hunch to avoid bumping her head on the ceiling, having to duck to move from the tiny living room to the bedroom. A small bed lies on the ground in the corner of the room, a mess of bed sheets piled atop it, with much of the room being dominated by a Net-Chair and several different data towers connected to it.

"Shit," Dell says, whistling, "Now this is flashy," He crouches down by one of the data towers, "Minx-39 Processor, that ain't cheap. Three of them too."

"Os was extremely careful," Murci motions to the towers, "All three would run, but only one housed his brain processor. Always worried about getting fried. All this is behind half a dozen proxies. Made him slow, but he was invisible on the Net."

"Would he store his info on the towers?" Asks Domitia, her gaze wandering around the cramped room.

"Not likely, give me a minute..." Murci feels around the room with her foot, eventually finding something on Os' bed. Pulling the small mattress aside, she eventually finds a small latch that pops open to reveal a small computer underneath, "Bingo," She reaches up to her head and pulls down a data jack, "I'll be indisposed for a few minutes kids, don't break anything." She says before inserting it into the device.

"Net-heads," Dell whispers, "We really going to pay her a third?"

"It's what's fair, Dell," Domitia reminds her partner, "We don't lie."

"Well," Dell walks away with a chuckle, "I- Oh, look at that!"

He hops over to a small desk and chair set up in the corner of the bedroom. An assortment of paints, clippers, and plastic figures are scattered across the desk.

"You ever seen these?" Dell held one up to Domitia.

The Bellator takes it in her hand, and it takes a moment to recognize that what she holds is a miniature Bellator. Painted grey and red, its outstretched right arm mimicking firing an Ion Lance, its left holding a vibro-blade.

Domitia chuckles, "Never knew we had toys made out of us."

"Think it's a game." Dell muses, "Some of my old crew said it's called 'Clone Wars: The Age of Darkness,' Bellator versus those Clone Legions the Gene-Lords made a while back."

Domitia hums, "Well, if that's the case, the armor is wrong."

"What?" Dell asks, looking at the mini.

Domitia crouches down, pointing at the tiny plastic Bellator, "This is Strider Pattern Warplate. It was made after the Clone War," Domitia taps the head, "That helmet is how you know. It's got a sliding visor, like the one I have. It had integrated targeting systems within it but made seeing in close quarters hell."

"Okay," Dell nods, "But it's just a game, Dom, no reason to get all technical."

Domitia shrugs, "Well if you're gonna do something, best to do it right." She held the model up close, "He got the colors right. Cursed Thirteen."

"Huh?"

"They were the Thirteenth Regiment, got infected with the Legacy Bane. They died to the last, their remains entombed on Coar." Domitia feels a degree of grief rises up in her over that fact, which just as quickly subsides, "I'm going to step outside, make sure the snakes don't come back."

"Suit yourself." Dell says, "I'm gonna raid the fridge and see if there's any beer left."

Domitia exits the cramped and dark apartment and reenters the humid and busy alleyway, taking her post just outside the door. She leans against the wall, sighing as she watches for any signs of trouble. The Bellator scans the alley, seeing nothing but burly workers rushing in and out of their establishments. Some stick around for a while, taking drags on vapes or other chems to give them a pep in their step.

Yet one figure stands out, mostly because she towers over the rest of them. She saunters down the alleyway with strange levels of grace, giving Domitia a strong indicator she's augged. Her red eyes, framed by black hair, flash over Domitia; the gaze of the tall woman reminds Domitia of a predator, sizing up another kill. Her slim build is exaggerated by her black jacket and skirt, making her profile look even thinner. She has no weapons on her, yet the confidence she carries herself with tells Domitia she is still dangerous.

"Dom," Dell's voice comes out from the apartment, "Get in here; hacker’s made a breakthru."

Domitia heads back inside, nearly striking her head on the threshold into the bedroom as she comes in, Murci's still crouching over the console found under the mattress.

"What’d ya find?" Domitia asks.

"Something interesting," Murci replies, "Trying to piece it together."

"Does it confirm our man is still alive?" Dell asks.

"In a sense," Murci finally removes the jack, "Here's the word: Os intercepted an invite. Death Heads are looking for additional bodies for a job."

"Where at?"

"Janus mining colony, not too far from here." Murci says, "Here's the deal. The guy who put this out? Sassia' Dead-Taker.'"

"Shit..." Dell trailed off before saying, "That's the Void-Damned Necromancer."

"Should've seen what he was up to on the Firebrand." Domitia mutters coldly, "Message have any details? Anything that confirms Flynt is there."

"Not word for word, but the message does say; 'Here we will put the last sparks to rest.'"

Domitia sharply inhaled at that, fist clenching tightly, "Bastard quoting his own captain."

"Oh fuck, it's real then." Dell runs a comb through his hair, hands shaking slightly, "Fuck... Guess we're doing this then."

"Were you hoping for another dead end, Caliger?" Asks Murci.

"Wasn't expecting this to be the real deal." Dell admits, putting his comb away, "Right. Well. We gonna set off?"

Domitia nods, "Let's get our ship in order and set off."

"Great," Murci rolls her shoulders, "Been a while since I was off station."

Dell raises a hand, "Now hold up there slim," He points a finger at Murci, "You think we're gonna let you on our ship?"

"Well I need to confirm if our bounty gets nabbed, otherwise I don't get paid." Murci fires back.

Dell shakes his head, "I appreciate your help, but as you said yourself, you ain't good in a fight."

"You don't look that good yourself, short stuff." The hacker jabs.

Dell prepares to give a retort when Domitia gives him a look, making him relent.

"If you come with us, you will work. And if needed, you will fight." Domitia says, looming over Murci, "You understand."

"Clear as space, boss." Murci gives Domitia a mock salute. "Just remember, I want my cut. Not a cred short."

"You'll get your cut," Dell said with a sigh, "Right, let's mosey then."