Listen here, my plan was to swing wide, and go far around Bigville, but Deadeye is telling me all the things and systems about to fail on my ride. Deadeye is my hoverbike’s artificial intelligent diagnostic assistant. So, I need to go into town for a part or we won’t make it to Thunderbird, also I want something to drink, and I don’t mean water or nothin’ neither, nor can’t say I wouldn’t be terribly opposed to eatin’ a decent hot meal. I know you’re thinking this is a crazy idea, but a man has got to live, see; he can’t be living under a rock and hidin’ from every little shadow like a scared little critter. That ain’t no way to go through life, even if it might shorten it a little…

So, we ride on up into town with Reverend Jo sitting tandem behind me, but only to the outskirts, I ain’t totally crazy. Getting the part, I need from a shady mechanic shop was easy enough and is a smooth affair, and a quick fix. It should be noted that Reverend Jo is opposed to this plan, however, there’s a little roadhouse on the way out of town that don’t look half bad. Being late-afternoon, I figure there won’t be too many folks in there, so less likely to be noticed, but conversely, it also means there’s less people to blend into with. These podunk roadhouses don’t get all rowdy until well after the main sundown, but they are also my bread and butter, y’all can keep your fancy-pants nightclubs and such. Also, these places aren’t too big on them fancy identification scanners that are linked to the GNS (global network system), so that’s a plus.

“Okay padre, this is only gonna be a quick stop, for the sake of my sanity… or what little I might-could have left anyway. Just a quick drink or two and a decent meal, and I do emphasize decent, because I’m bettin’ this place ain’t a five-star dining service or nothing but will feel damn near it after eatin’ like I’ve been for the past week.” I says to Jo, not sure why that statement sounded like famous last words.

I've been here before, I think, maybe six months ago, so I figure no one's gonna know me from Adam, whoever that is. I did my best to make Jo look more like some normal desert scrub, moreso than a stoic member of the clergy, hoping they pass for a mostly regular person with implants and such. “Just don’t talk too much, it’ll give you away that you’re a Sentient, and that will lead to no good, to be sure. But I’m hoping you’ll pass for a quirky neurodivergent.”

“It should be duly noted that I am fully capable of blending into general human company and diverse social situations. I’ve had well over one thousand years of experience and interactions with humans; this provides me with a vast lexicon of data to draw upon, and to strategically employ operationally.” Reverend Jo says as they get off their ride and stand up straight like a statue, like they’s getting ready to give a sermon or something.

“Yessirry, you said it.” All I can do is shake my head and let out a sigh as we walk into the roadhouse.

Inside, it’s a lovely little dive, a little dark, a little grimy, old worn-out decor and furniture, entertainment system and games from twenty or thirty years ago, at least. It’s perfect. Best of all, I smell hash browns cooking, that’s what I’m talking about, right there. After I look over the space, it looks like just your usual lot of folks that you might find in such an establishment, most of them barely even take notice of us. That’s what I like about these places: folks mind their own damn business.

A couple of drinks later, and while in the middle of eating my huge pile of hash browns, grits and eggs, I see a woman looking over at us a few times, then she gets up and walks out. She is the usual type of person you might expect to find in such an establishment; a little tough looking, and cyber modded, nothing unusual about that, not here anyway. Maybe it was nothing, seemed normal enough, but what bothered me was she seemed like she was actually going a little too slow, so as not to appear to be in a hurry. And she didn’t put her riding jacket back on, she kept it bundled up under her arm. Normally you’d think someone would put their riding jacket on when they go outside to mount up on their ride; there was a hoverbike outfront, again, nothing unusual about a roadhouse to see hoverbikes.

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Maybe I’m gettin’ paranoid, or maybe this was a bad idea coming here, either way, I figure I best hurry up and finish my plate. For a little insurance, I arm one of the grenades that I got from ole Bighands Ben, and I kick it across the floor, over to the entrance. It’s set to the lowest charge setting, but it’s still a grenade. If everything is fine, I’ll just pick it up on my way out. Jo watches me and gets ready to say something, but I shake my head slowly, gesturing ‘no.’

As we are getting ready to head on out, that tough-looking chick that left a few minutes ago pokes her head in the entrance, then back out. So, I lay my scatter-gun on my lap, under the table, and I quietly say, “looks like some shit’s about to go down, Jo.” Recognizing that subtlety is required at this particular moment, they nod in acknowledgement.

She comes back in with three fellas each holding a pistol in hand, all of which I’m acquainted with. It’s that Big Dawg crew; BigRed with a new face, Slick, and big-ugly-dummy.The only reason they don’t blast me immediately is because Reverend Jo is kind of in the way of a good clean shot and they want that extra 10k. If they were smart, but they ain’t, they would have just shot right through Jo to kill me, get the 25k and call it a day; but greed is a powerful thing. This tough-chick must have been the spotter when they ambushed me, I figures; and she points right at me and says, right there, “there’s that son-of-bitch that shot you in the face, BigRed.”

People in the roadhouse quickly start clearing out the back service entrance via the kitchen. BigRed says to me, “looks likes I gets my revenge, and a helluva payday, boys, woot!”

Slick is nodding in agreement while glaring at me with hatred in his eyes, and the big-ugly-dummy adds in with that high pitched voice, “yeah, BigRed, fuck him up!”

“Move out of the goddam way, fuckin’ robot. I’m gonna enjoy what fuckin’ comes next.” BigRed directs at me.

So, I says, “me too, mutherfucker.” And I set off that grenade, it blows the entrance away, and knocks them all over the place, minus some limbs. The explosion knocks Jo and I right out of our damn seats, I don’t know what Jo felt but it certainly rang my bell.

A moment later, I’m still seeing stars, but I manage to get up off the floor and find my scattergun. One of those Big Dawg’s cybernetic fingers are embedded in my leg, like a piece of shrapnel. BigRed manages to get up, missing an arm and half of his new face, and opens fire with his pistol in my general vicinity, so I shoot him with my makeshift scattergun. Don’t think he’s coming back from this, because it literally blows him apart, it’s so powerful because it’s designed to be used against armored combatants, and it’s highly illegal to possess without special licenses.

Anyway, the rest of his crew, or what’s left of them don’t move, so I find Jo on the floor, they seem okay and not missing any limbs. “Are you okay, Jo? I’m really sorry I had to do that to you.”

“Surprisingly, I seem to be fully operational. I calculated there was a 73.2 percent probability they were going to open fire on us at any moment.”

“Yep, you’re good, c’mon” I say as I usher them outside, through the remains and rubble of what was formerly the entrance. We jump on my hoverbike and ride outta town as fast as we can, before the authorities get there.