I've been beaten before, but it's uncommon. As I've said, I usually just explode, but that was when I was a Wavepilot, and I now suspected I would have to get used to dying in many different ways. Thankfully, they didn't beat us to death or pound us into submission.

I experienced mostly body blows to the gut to take my breath away, followed by a bag over the head, my arms brought down to my sides, thick tape wrapping around my arms and waist like a mummy so I couldn't move my arms, and instructions not to move. When I obliged by remaining absolutely still, they whacked me hard in the head. After I crumbled to the ground, I opted to remain limp.

It reminded me of bonking my stupid head on my stupid old i35 ship. My poor brain. I've taken too many blows to the head over the last century.

It's actually pretty hard to knock a person unconscious. It's much easier to pretend that you've been knocked unconscious. My head hurt so badly that the result was nearly the same. I had a vague recollection of the path they took. I tried to study the number of steps and general direction to distract myself from the pain as we changed districts, went down levels, and turned through passageways.

Finally, they flung me onto a black synthetic couch.

"Sit up," someone commanded.

I was over on my side, my head against the seat cushions. Without my arms to lift me, I tried throwing my weight up, but I tipped back over and landed on the seat again. After a few more attempts, they grabbed me and sat me up, removing the bag so I could see.

My nose was bleeding, dripping down to my chin and onto my nice new hoodie. I desperately wanted to wipe my face, and I could almost get it with my shoulder, but it was a useless endeavor, so I tried sucking in what I could in my mouth and spitting it out. It landed on my jeans, and I immediately regretted it as I felt it seep through and touch my skin.

@foxcutter was on a second couch like the first, wrapped like I was in a little torso cocoon. We were in the corner of a dimly lit room with painted black brick walls and a concrete floor that they had thrown dark red rugs over. I hated dark red rugs and concrete. I knew enough that it was to make it easier to clean blood stains. A table had been in front of us, but they slid it over and now four men and a woman stood before us.

They were all dressed in jeans or brown pants, dingy and dirty like everything seemed to be in this place, with t-shirts in white, black, and gray. The woman had a red shirt under a black jacket with sharp folds along the lapel, and it looked like if you tried to grab her neck, you might cut yourself on the collar. The others had dark brown worn jackets, suitable to hide dirt and get into a row with anyone willing to mess with them.

Their distinguishing feature was a black and fiery orange insignia on the left leg of their pants above the knee, showing a rocket with its thrusters firing and a robot riding the rocket like a space cowboy. So, these were the Thrusters. They seemed tough, but honestly, I didn't feel threatened based on how they were standing and the way they were looking us over, staring at us as if unsure what to do now.

"Can we help you?" I ventured to ask. "I do have places to be, so ..."

One of the men, a little thicker than the others and sporting a mustache and dark curly hair, in brown pants and a black shirt, motioned for the others to go. The woman stayed next to him. The other three men walked to the doorway, two wandering through and out of sight, while the third took up a position there, leaning with his back against the door frame.

"I'm here on business," I said. "Paper and dirt trade. They call me @wrench." I spit again, this time getting some on the couch while a dangle hung from my chin. I rubbed it onto my shoulder. "We're not here to interfere. Just a quick in and out to prospect for business."

The mustache man nodded as I spoke, but he didn't seem to care much.

"We know who you are, @wrench." He looked at the woman. She shrugged back at him and then nodded, pulling up chairs for them to sit down in the space between the couches. @foxcutter looked to be much in the same state as me. I couldn't tell what his panic level was. This was certainly different from mimes on tour.

"Then you know that there's really no reason for this." I tried to gesture to @foxcutter and then my own tape-wrapped torso.

He laughed as he sat down. "I'm @golfswinger, and this is @horsehead. We know you're here to make a special deal with someone." He made the H gesture with his fingers.

Shit, I thought. They knew.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

But how did they know? Probably that cuss-fucker @diamonddocker tipped them off, even though I paid him for the cleaning bill. But I didn't break character.

"Then you know my rep," I said confidently, managing to stand up off the couch, watching them closely.

"Your rep means shit here," the woman, @horsehead, responded, standing up in sync with my movements. Her voice was sweeter and more melodious than the words that came out of it. She had long blond hair that stood out in the dull and grimy surroundings. She also had my gravity hammer in her hands.

"That's mine," I said, nodding at the gravity hammer.

"Come and take it," she chuckled.

"Lick my face," I retorted. It didn't mean anything, but it was all I could think of and my face was snot and blood, so it seemed appropriate.

She stuck her tongue out at me, and I tried not to laugh.

"Itokawa is a place of honor," @golfswinger interjected, still sitting casually in his chair. "And she's right. You have no standing here. Honor and rep gets you places. You've got neither - not here on Itokawa anyway."

I sat back down with an overly dramatic sigh. "So, what do you want? You want some dirt to liven up the place? Or do you want to get a broom, clean this place up, and sell me your dirt. By the look of it, you could make a few thousand qcoins just from a good cleaning."

@golfswinger laughed. "I like your spirit. We'll take you up on that. You better be good for the qcoins. Consider it a first step with the Thrusters."

He snapped his fingers, and the man at the entryway wandered off. I assumed to go get a broom or a cleaning bot.

"@diamonddocker doesn't think we should help you," @golfswinger began.

So it was that asshole!

"He said you made quite a mess of his place," he continued. "Said the only reason he gave you the info was that he's a man of his word, but that doesn't mean you have to live long enough to use that info, or that it has to be easy." He motioned to @horsehead, who still stood there with my hammer. "We Thrusters are enterprising folks, so we'll see if you can earn your way. We're not exactly going to stop you, but there's conditions."

I nodded, accepting my fate, but the clock was ticking. "Go on then."

"One-off transactions are easy here," @golfswinger explained. "You do the deal. Wipe your memory. It's the safest and most secure way of doing business."

"And we have a special way to wipe those precious memories," @horsehead added.

@golfswinger smiled. "We'll call that the Prometheus alternative, but with something other than your liver to be eaten." He pointed to his head.

Cool. So, they'll eat my brain. They didn't even know about the zos612 zombie virus, and here they were pretending to be zombies. Everything's coming up zombies! I started humming a little tune to myself. That would make a catchy song.

"But we have a better option," said @golfswinger. "You want to do repeat business, then you get to keep your memories, but that means you've got to have honor."

@golfswinger stood up then and pulled out a dull black pistol. One of the men came back into the room, holding a broom and a pair of scissors. He handed the scissors to @horsehead, who set the hammer down by her chair and walked over to @foxcutter.

First, she cut a chunk of his hair from his head, which she shoved in her pocket. Then she started working on the tape to free him. As if she needed to explain her weirdness, she glanced at me as she snipped away at the tape. "I'm making a mane from organic hair." As if that explained everything.

"You want a meeting at Void's Edge," @golfswinger continued. "We want an information leak dealt with. There's honor in secrecy, and we found a dishonorable person in our network. We could handle it ourselves, but this presents an ideal opportunity for you."

"I disagree," I replied. "But I see you want us to jump through some hoops while you clean the place."

"Oh, you'll want to say yes," @golfswinger said, as if I was missing something obvious. He swayed in the dim light and put a fresh clip in his gun. "Like I said, this way you keep your memories. Besides, we fed the source some juicy intel on you. This intel gets out, and in no short order, all the unsavory and savory parties in the solar system will be looking for @wrench for a permanent reckoning."

He timed the click of loading his gun perfectly, for emphasis, on the words permanent reckoning. Was everyone in the solar system a dick? I really hated people. Thinking about it though, if I were in their position, I'd probably do the same thing.

@horsehead was finished with @foxcutter and made her way over to me. I stood up so she could cut the tape off of me, a little nervous to be honest. Someone who takes your hammer is not to be trusted, even if it's an understandably awesome gravity hammer.

She stared at me, brown eyes hard to read and her face expressionless. @horsehead was so close I could see the reflection of my bloodied face in her eyes. She smelled like jasmine and gasoline, which I thought would actually make an interesting scent for a candle. And then she surprised me. She gently worked the scissors along the front of my body, starting at the top - which I appreciated lest she poke me in the face with the tip of the scissors - cutting her way down toward my stomach.

I freed my arms but kept them still, so as to not provoke her. I'm not a complete idiot after all.

The quiet moment was spoiled when she unceremoniously patted my balls. "Good boy," she said, amused with herself.

My mouth was probably hanging open. I closed it.

"Was that really necessary?" I said in my most annoyed voice. "I mean, come on." I looked at @golfswinger in a can you do something about this kind of way.

@horsehead laughed. "You can't pretend you didn't like it."

Urgh! Stupid woman.

@golfswinger just shrugged back at me.

"We'll do it," I said grumpily. "But the hammer comes with me."

@horsehead placed the hammer between her legs and stuck her hands on her hips. "You want it? Lick my face."

I took a step forward and stuck my tongue out at her, making an angry face, but @golfswinger stepped in between us.

"Enough," he said firmly, turning from me to stare @horsehead. She handed the gravity hammer over to him, and he held it out to me.

"You and your friend go wipe the intel and eliminate the target," @golfswinger commanded. "It's a win-win, and the best deal you'll get."