Chapter 9

Cpt. Deganhardt /// captains lounge

Stumbling around the turns in the hallway and bypassing the few crews moving out or into the dorms wouldn't normally feel like an olympic event but today pyotr definitely thought he should win a gold medal. Counting the steps and ignoring the comments of “fucking junkie” as he stumbled through the double doors into the lounge, he bore forward more of a fall then actual walking into the bar. With an audible thud, the barkeep turns looks to the doubled over ab and asks “rough night?”

Pyotr wanted to scream, to shout, to cry, to reach over and strangle this asshat, instead through gritted teeth, and mandibles “yea… you guys serving lunch”.

“Uh yea, itll take bout 10 minutes if your ok waiting.” the barkeep replied.

“Yea ill take a chicken burrito, no avocado, extra veggies.” Pyotr said pulling himself onto the closest stool.

The barkeep nodded to him before turning around and putting the order in. Pyotr putting his head down on the bar, turned looking side to side, despite the bar being decently packed he really didn't have any company, not that he was complaining. Who would have thought casual racism was really effective when you just wanted to be alone. A silent chuckle and his ribs flared in pain.

“Hey asshole” was all he heard before a solid object struck his abdomen with force knocking him from his chair. Crashing down onto the floor he saw Yankers standing over him, all 5’5 of him.

“Hey princess…ugh” Pyotr choked out

“So decided to piss on me, really? Youre a sick fuck” Yankers said stomping on Pyotrs upper left arm.

“Well i can see someone woke up on their fuckin period, yea i pissed on you Yankers, better than that one time you got spaced for passing out on watch… uhh” another kick to his ribs stopped Pyotrs tirade

“Will you stop pissing him off for fucks sake Pyotr” came the voice in his head.

“Fuck you Ab peice of shit.” Yankers was definetly to angry to listen, and this definitely wasnt about a prank

“Clearly you need someone to talk to yankees may i suggest…” Pyotr didnt get to finish that sentence as Yankers drew his sidearm, and pointed it at Pyotr’s head.

At this point the rest of the bar had gotten involved with people trying to stop him with words, but Yankers wasn't listening. A wild animal looked back at Pyotr, an animal he knew too well. He stared back silent, no words needed to be spoken now, he knew it. Civilization liked to put words on what this was, to identify it, to categorize it. To try to take away its power, its terror. They never succeed, because they forget a fundamental piece of this animal. It's called humans just like them. Beads of sweat dripped down Yankers face, his eyes bulged and his cheeks had reddened. The animal had taken over, so Pyotr responded in kind. Drawing his gun on Yankers Pyotr was shot three times, once in the chest, once in hip and once in his right arm. In return Yankers was shot twice, once in the solar plexus knocking the wind out of Yankers and once in the shoulder. Both bodies collapsed on the floor next to each other. Shocked gasps and shouts of “Gun, Gun” were called out. White radiating pain etched across his entire body, as he heaved what little he had in his stomach all over the floor next to him, Pyotr took a few moments to catch his breath making sure he was still alive. Pyotr could feel his suit slowly reforming from the bullet strikes. He turned his head to look at Yankers, who was groaning in pain.

“You alive Yankers”

“Fuck you” a gasped reply

“I'll take that as a yes” with a groan Pyotr pulled himself into a sitting position checking himself for bullet holes, as Yankers Medic did the same for him. Thankfully the smart cloth he was wearing had displaced most of the impact across his entire body, still hurt, but no puncture wounds.

“Seriously you are an asshole” chided T.

“He wasn't gonna back down T, and besides were alive ain't we?” he shot back mentally.

Popping a few more morphine tablets he had on him he looked over to Yankers “look if its any help, sorry i pissed on you, we good now though?”

“Fuck you Dreganhardt, fucking Ab shit” coughed up Yankers

“Fine fuck off then and ill leave you alone, or we can finish our suicidal homicide attempt here and now.'' Pyotr said, checking his pistol.

Yankers crew dragged him off even as he was protesting to finish his glorious shout out. As he stood up the barkeep had finished his burrito, and handed it to him. With a nod Pyotr took it.

“You really are that fucking stupid” said a voice off to his right

“Told ya” said T

“Why is everyone on my fucking case today?!?” Pyotr said exasperated turning to face Max

“Because i don't know anyone who can walk into and survive in a perpetual state of shitstorm.” said Max sitting down next to him before continuing “and surprisingly id like you to stick around at least until you piss me off enough that i don't care about ya.”

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“Fuck you” Pyotr mumbled through bites of his Buritto

“Well i didn't know you liked em old and wrinkled Pyotr but i need to remind you i'm still married.” Max said with a smile.

Shaking his head he continued his lunch shooting the shit with max.

20 min later

One of the only moments of peace and quiet on such a shit day, thought pyotr, watching Max take off back to the docks for some new job.

“You shoulda asked to link crews for a bit, especially with your condition” T said

“Then he really would hate me, longer people are around me quicker they want to get away, then they stay away.” thought Pyotr

“Not everyone does, I'm still around aren't i?” asked T

“You have to be, your in my head.” he responded

“Not always”

The phone rang across the bar, and the barkeep hobbled over to pick it up, listening for a moment before hanging up. The stocky ex biker made his way over to Pyotr. “Shiekh wants you down in reception

Pyotr sighed, stood up, and made his way downstairs.

Fixer Omar Rifi /// Last Stop reception

Omar had never really enjoyed the concept of ceremony, despite using it to his advantage throughout his life he always found it tedious, today was no such exception. After the grandiose list of titles and domains was listed out, and then everyone elses name and titles of note were mentioned, then he had to recite the Imperial authorities proclamation of loyalty… this “quick meeting” was turning into a far grander scale than he originally anticipated. After the prolonged song and dance Omar was finally permitted to sit.

Leaning back in a large dark leather recliner, he looked towards the minister “so, minister, before we discuss your problem i need to explain how this works” omar said in low speech while he motioned with his hand in a grand gesture around him.

“To put it simply, if you agree to work with us, i will call down a captain who represents a crew, you and the captain will discuss the job and objectives, negotiate a fair price for the services, in the process i as the guarantor of the work being done and the supplier of the workers will take 15% of whatever deal you two arrange this may be in addition to whatever you choose to pay the captain. Then we have our scribe and legal aid formalize the contract and our work will begin.” Omar said keeping himself paced and controlled.

The minister said something in high speech to his maid, the maid then turned and asked “isnt working for the greater good of the empire good enough?” Omar had to catch himself before chuckling.

“While it may be enough for me minister, the captains don't work for free, even if they can't deny your request, we have a number of strict legal documents that we have copies of in office, to help protect ourselves and our employees if you were looking for free labor, their ar plenty of other species always looking for work…”

Another transition from minister to maid “ that won't be necessary, but we will demand discretion, anything less than absolute silence will cause insurmountable problems.”

“That's fine, but to clarify there are two types of discretion in my business, the type that leaves no trace they were ever there and no one is the wiser that the job ever happened, this type normally comes with rules and regulations and such… and the second type which is they get the job done and they do it well, then they vanish like they never existed so any proof of the job is impigent on finding what amounts to a ghost.'' Omar said, setting up the fine line, and attempting to nudge the minister's judgment.

Another exchange, “this job must be finished and failure is not an option” the seeds of Omars ploy lining up already.

"and what is the job in rough details, and how dangerous do you feel it could get? i need this information to ensure i amtch you accordingly." said Omar maintaing his profensional demeanor.

"something was stolen, something of priceless value that could very easily change the fate of everything you know. as for dangers the theif has already killed one of the highborn." another transaction between minister and maid

"well then it sounds like you need a hunter-killer, and the job is retrieval" Omar said nodding externally, while panicing internally he was going to need to be extra insured on this one. "i have just the captain in mind for such an event" omar said turning towards the phone imbedded in the wall.

stopping himself before grabbing the phone he turned back to the minister and company “Before i call my man, please let me be clear, he will do the job, but you will be responsible for excess damages or deaths that occur in the event of the job is that acceptible?” Omar asked

“Absolutely not, that's completely unacceptable. What if we unleash a monster with my authority going on a rampage across the imperial throne?” the maid echoed even the ministers feinted anger

“Minister, to be clear we are not mindless savages, we have common sense, and to be acurate historically during the war we had far better trigger discipline.”

“Trigger discipline?” the maid said, Omar wasn't even sure the minister had said anything.

“The concept of restraint under combat, your forces fired on civilians and military alike, hammers seeing everything as a nail. Our people by contrast were precision instruments, targeting troop leaders, comms officers, firing and hitting their target no matter the environment minimum collateral damages.” Omar said, fixing his gaze on the minister's sensory stalk.

He had done this dance dozens of times. It was all about showing enough to ensure boldness and certainty but remaining just viable and flexible enough that they think they can control you. It was a ballet he had mastered while working with his fathers company as a boy, and he had only worked on perfecting it since then. he could almost here the music as he reminisced momentarily about boardrooms filled with oil and mining tycoons, and how he would guide them to almost giving him what he wants. how his skill with leading had made his father so proud, and how it had garunteed him a position in humanities future. forgoing these thoughts of better times he refocusd.

The minister turned and said something to the hulking golden crustacean in the corner of the room who responded in the same vocalized high speech. Just because Omar couldn't speak it didn't mean he didn't understand the rough dialogue. The minister had blinked and fell back on his great warrior for affirmation, it happens from time to time. The minister turned and said something between the two maids. The one who had spoken previously looked up and said “as the guarantor we would have you be culpable as well.” they wanted his skin in the game as well then… well if that's what it took.

“Fine, but i would only be subject to any punishment you yourself would take minister” omar was practically vibrating in excitement he had just hooked the biggest client of his life.

A nod from across the room and Omar stood up making his way to one of the in-built phones.

“Fair warning, this captain is an acquired taste, and can be grating, but he's my best.” Omar said every word a flat faced lie, but he didn't have anyone else to handle a job this big.

He dialed up for Pyotr Dreganhardt…