The Big Job

The young man slowly climbed out of his tent and gazed up at the two moons still looming in the morning sky. Phobos and Deimos sat above the horizon, barely touching the great mountain ranges to the south. Seeing the moons after waking up seemed to bring normalcy to the chaotic lifestyle in the Wastes. This is why he loved being near the equator.

He took a nice, deep, long breath and walked into the tiny campsite. A small fire sat in the center of the camp. It was housed in a metal cooking stove, merely embers. As the crisp morning wind rustled the fire, a little tail of smoke climbed into the sky. A coarse wool bag lay near the fire, where he kept the metal ration packaging from dinner the night before. The water recycling system still chugging away in it’s rusted, bullet ridden walls. The lone man went over, and gently took out a handful of recycled water, putting his cupped hands to his chapped lips. Despite all the chlorine, it still tasted like piss. He grimaced, standing up.

Besides the tent entrance sat a silver spray-painted dirt bike. The old machine, like most other vehicles in the wastes, was mainly held together by spit and duct tape. Despite the missing parts, and odd noises, she was still reliable.

He checked the engine, adding more tape after noticing another leak. Despite the constant repair, this old rusty thing was a luxury. It had been so long since he had seen anything even remotely new. A few decades old was considered gently used out here.

To live out here, one needed to be a mechanic, doctor, tracker, killer. He was most of these things, had been since he could remember. The man wiped the sweat from his dirty forehead, looking out from the dirt trail that led from his little camp.

The trail stretched along a massive canyon, a mile wide and stretching towards the north and south as from one horizon to the other. It had to be at least a mile or two wide. A beautiful sight for a beautiful morning. Enjoying the temporary silence, he gazed out over the Wastes, the soft wind blowing dust up like ocean waves in the far distance.

The campsite was the only sign of life within traveling distance, carefully nestled in between the sharp rocks of the surrounding cliffside so as to avoid detection. The deafening silence of the morning was interrupted by the man's footsteps as he began tearing down camp. First came down the orange dust-covered tent, packed snuggly into the saddlebacks of the dirt bike. Then the campfire kit and stool were broken down and stowed. The man emptied the water recycling kit, folding it as the rusted metal joints whined.

He then chugged what little water was left in his canteen and inspected the campsite to ensure nothing was left behind. Satisfied, the young man walked over and tried starting the bike's engine. It took a few tries, but finally, the old girl revved to life, black exhaust sputtering outwards from the rusty tailpipe.

The wanderer checked the fuel level, just enough to get to his next destination. He thumbed the pistol strapped to his right thigh, instinctually ensuring it was still there. After checking the saddlebags once again, he slung a satchel over his back with what little possessions didn't fit in the saddlebags. He pulled dusty and cracked rider goggles over a thin face, then concealed his lower face with a worn biker scarf in a swift movement. Finally, he pulled the worn leather hood over his head.

All was in order, so it was off to his new destination. It was a quiet, peaceful ride. Occasionally, a tiny rock might cause a bump here and there, but beside that it was a smooth ride. The winding dirt path was more than manageable for the old bike.

It would be at least an hour ride until he reached his destination. Plenty of time for the mind to wander. His thoughts drifted toward the next meal, hopefully something hot, maybe even meat? A rarity, of course, but one can dream. His stomach rumbled, complaining about the lack of breakfast.

As the journey began, he made his way past an abandoned mining village. He maintained speed, his eyes scanning the broken windows, and abandoned machinery. The old mine shaft, its metal tower collapsed, seemed haunted. He could almost imagine people living there at one point. He pressed on, not daring to stop. He knew whatever food or rations where left there had been pillaged years ago.

The rider’s eyes looked up at the brightening sky, where the tiny silver glints of ships could be seen rising into orbit. It was almost like a dream, seeing such immense crafts appearing as little as a needle, no doubt carrying so many souls toward a better life. If only he could be on one of those great ships, going who knows where among the stars.

Unfortunately, his lot was here in the dust. The young man would give anything to change it. Being born as nothing, truly owning nothing was both freeing, and soul stakeningly brutal whenever he had a moment to stop and think. That was why it was better to keep moving, keeping working, keep killing.

A small bump in the path brought his mind back to the route. Ever onward, the terrain around him was barely remarkable, aside from a rather large boulder here and there. Every now and then he would pass a burned-out truck, or some sort of speeder. The passengers’ bones still residing within. He was careful to skirt around these old hulks, one never knew if there was still explosives, or old fuel cooking off inside.

Right when the rider’s bottom began to numb, a large hill came into view. The journey was nearly over, so he pressed on. At the top of the hill, he halted and used his leg to support the bike as he pulled out the scanner from the bike satchel. The valley below him was the typical bland Waste landscape, except for a few tents in the center.

An anonymous camp. He spotted hooded and masked figures going about their day among the tents, some repairing their bikes or trucks. Others seemed to be selling items, while more were sitting around campfires attempting to warm up a bit.

The rider sighed with relief and began the descent into the valley, cruising toward the camp. The entrance to the center was marked by armed guards with rifles. One motioned for him to slow down.

The guards were far more prominent in stature than the rider, their bodies protected by thick but well-worn grey armor. Gun belts rested on their waists, holding grenades, knives, and pistols. On their backs were packs full of more explosive goodies, no doubt. All their faces were shrouded with hoods and dust goggles. The only way to distinguish between the guards was the numbers spray-painted on their right shoulder pauldrons.

The weary rider obeyed the command and slowed down until the bike was hardly moving, and he was beside the armed guard who had given the signal. A bright red number one was spray-painted on the signaling guard's pauldron, as the others had blue painted numbers.

“Who are you? What do you want?” the guard asked gruffly through his mask as he placed a thickly gloved hand on the bike's handlebars, the other grasping his long rifle.

The rider presented his dog tags, allowing the guard to read his serial number. “I'm here to see Mama Jockus.”

“Main tent, be polite, or we'll throw your ass out,” the guard sneered and motioned for the other armed guards to step aside.

The guards reluctantly obeyed, their shoulders slumping, tight grips on their weapons loosening as they backed away. Their masked eyes followed the rider as he revved his engine and slowly accelerated past them. One of the guards pulled down her mask and spat nearly on the rider.

“Fucking bounties,” she snarled through rotten yellow teeth as she pulled her mask back up over her sun-damaged face.

The rider ignored the typical insult and continued into the camp. Most of the people there ignored him, aside from a sideways glance here or there. He pressed on past most of the tents and hasty market booths comprised of scrap metal. Deep inside the camp, he came to the biggest tent, located at the hub of all the activity.

He parked the bike outside beside the others, kicking the bike stand open to rest upright. He dusted himself off, and stretched, his not so young joints cracking. The skinny man twisted his torso, popping his lower back, and gave a groan. Once satisfied, the wanderer then proceeded to enter the patched and dusty tent.

Inside was a long tent-wide metal slab propped up on storage containers about waist high; a makeshift bar where several people had drinks. Behind the bar was a curtain wall, and in front of the bar were several powerline wheels laid down as tables, surrounded by stools. Light glimmered from the metal lanterns hanging loosely from strings attached to the tent ceiling overhead.

There were less than a dozen people inside minding their business, all with their faces revealed. Some were old, some were young, some male, some female, all showed signs of a hard life. The attire of these people was all the same as the rider’s: armed, adorned in faded black or brown leather clothes with hooded jackets.

A young blonde woman stood behind the makeshift bar, making drinks. She was the only one not in frontier clothes; her slender body covered by a loose faded dress. Fake jewelry adorned her limbs and fingers as her grey eyes studying the new arrival curiously. The rider recognized her and met her gaze with a nod.

He took his scarf and goggles off, letting down his hood. His hair was a pitch-black mess, green piercing eyes, and gaunt young face. Amazingly, the harsh weather hadn't left its mark on his face yet; a curious thing for a young man who had spent his whole life out there.

The rider went up to the bartender.

“Hello, Julia.”

“Hey 8-0-1,” she responded.

A few of the people glanced over at hearing some of the riders’ serial numbers. One of them seemed to reach into their pocket.

The rider huffed.

“What did I tell you about using my numbers?” he scoffed quietly at Julia.

She rolled her eyes. “I’m sorry, Nameless Man,” she said mockingly with a smirk. “Been a while, Nameless. You musta been gone at least a few months?”

He nodded disapprovingly.

“What brings you back here?” she asked.

“Lone wolf isn’t as lucrative; can’t find any more work. Figured I’d come back home for a bit.”

Julia nodded, finishing her cup, and picking up a new one for one of the patron’s drinks.

“It’s good to have you back,” She smiled.

“Yeah, good to see you, too. Is Mama back there?” he asked, leaning on the bar.

“Sure is. Talking to some fancy guy from the big city, nonetheless,” she said with a sparkle in her eye. “I hear he has one hell of a job lined up,”

“Always the gossip,” Nameless sighed. “Go tell her I'm here, will ya?”

Julia set down the drink she was making, one of her eyebrows raised.

“Please?” the Nameless Man asked reluctantly.

“Sure thing!” Julia laughed as she made her way back toward the curtain wall.

“Hey! What about my drink?” one of the people at the end of the bar yelled.

“You'll get your whiskey in a sec, Grimes,” scoffed Julia over her shoulder as she disappeared in the back.

Nameless reached over the counter, finished the whiskey, and slid it down the bar toward the complainant.

“Make sure you pay,” he warned.

The man grumbled something under his breath and slammed a few silver miner credits on the bar as he left. The currency of the Wastes was typically metal coins, or trade items. He had never seen paper money before in his life.

Nameless kept to himself as he continued to lean on the bar and wait for Julia to return. He wasn’t interested in small talk.

Faint female voices could be heard as Julia reemerged from the curtains.

“Mama wants to see ya,” she said, a smile framing her beautiful face.

He nodded and made his way behind the bar. As he passed Julia, he noticed her smile had faded, her eyes glistening.

“Give 'em hell, will ya?” she said as he made his way past her.

Why would she say that? He wondered. He decided to disregard it as Julia was always nosy.

Nameless entered the second half of the tent; a smoke-filled room covered in rich cushions. The metal grates on the floor were slathered in soft plastic, so one could walk barefoot comfortably. Small golden lanterns hung from the tent's ceiling, and candles burned on knee-high tables. Girls dressed like Julia lay about the room, utterly ignoring the bounty hunter as they smoked pipes emitting sweet-smelling smoke.

At the far end of the room was a large wooden table with luxurious carved wooden chairs. An old, hefty woman covered in expensive jewelry sat on the left; her body and head wrapped in fine brown silks embroidered with bold, colorful lines—Mama Jockus, the legendary camp owner herself.

A slender man in a perfect white suit sat on the right, without a scratch or stain to be seen. His bold white hair and fair skin stuck out from his surroundings, and his bright blue synthetic eyes flickered as they scanned the young arrival.

“AH! My boy! Come in, come in!” boomed Mama Jockus in a thick accent unique to her rooming peoples, hailing from eastern Europe of old Earth. She heaved herself up.

“Get up, you lazy girls! Get this fine young man something to drink!”

The young girls snapped out of their drug-induced stupor and began scrambling around the room. The young man waved them off and approached Mama.

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Mama Jockus closed the distance to Nameless with surprising speed and embraced him tightly.

“Ah! Look at you, so skinny! I'm amazed the winds do not blow you away, child. Come, come, sit down with us. You!” Mama pointed at one of the girls, startling her. “Get him a seat! Now!”

“I see you trained them well,” he laughed as the girl went outside quickly.

“Oh, they are useless! Useless! Sure they can pickpocket and get me secrets, but here they just loaf around and smoke that cheap garbage,” she scoffed as they went back to the wooden table.

“This, Mr. Peirceson, this is the one we call the Nameless Man! Our magnificent Nameless Bounty Hunter! He is the best bounty hunter in this sector!” she said proudly with a firm grasp on Nameless ’s shoulder.

The man in white looked the young man up and down, taking him in.

“He's a boy,” Mr. Peirceson said judgingly.

“Ack! All my agents are, Mr. Peirceson. This is Mars; old age is for the rich,” Mama Jockus sighed. “Besides, he is excellent. The best, he just finished that miners' union job, didn't you, child?”

“It wasn't hard,” Nameless sighed, the attention annoying him. He didn’t care about praise, he was here to eat food, and get paid.

Mr. Peirceson knitted his fingers together.

“You resolved the hostage situation in Delcore? I thought that was a team of mercenaries you sent in,”

“This is what the radio said, but I tell you it was this one. The Nameless Bounty Hunter is quite capable, the perfect man for the job,”

“Boy for the job,” Mr. Peirceson pointed out.

Mama Jockus eyes narrowed, her painted, long claw like nails tracing the purple veins on her hands. One of the girls returned with a seat for Nameless.

“If you do not want my services, Mr. Peirceson, I am sure there are other camps more than willing to do this job for you,”

The rider sat down on the plastic seat as Mr. Peirceson’s synthetic eyes flickering with activity as he appeared to see something no one else could. He had a calm, cool demeanor about him. A lofty one at that, almost as if he could buy a thousand camps if he so wished.

“You must understand, this is a delicate operation—” Mr. Peirceson began.

“Yes, yes, yes. So secret; we will be very careful. Now, about the money,” interrupted Mama Jockus, her hand gently tracing the map with her brightly painted fingernail.

“Compensation will more than adequate to cover the trouble this young man will have to go through,” he replied hotly. Mr. Peirceson twitched, his mouth turning down. Nameless resisted the urge to laugh, how was this man so easily annoyed by Mama? This city dweller mustn’t have been used to wasteland negotiations.

“What is this job, exactly?” asked Nameless.

Mr. Peirceson nodded to Mama Jockus, and she slid over the map of the sector east of the camp.

“The best one, my child, the kind no one else will take,” laughed Mama, a glint in her eyes.

The bounty hunter grunted, apprehensive of what was to come.

“You are familiar with that little chemical plant a hundred kilometers east of here?” asked Mama.

“The blown-up, abandoned plant that our competitors keep dying in?” asked Nameless, arching an eyebrow.

“Yes! That is the one!” Mama Jockus stabbed the location on the map with her long, brightly colored fingernail.

“Aj is going to drop you off, and you shall recover dear old Mr. Peirceson's property,”

“It is my party's property, Miss Jockus, and I must have the reassurance that it will be returned in one piece. Who is this Aj? Why is he not here?”

“He is my best sniper and pilot,” she said absent mindedly.

Mama Jockus waved her hand as she addressed the client, still looking at the map, her eyes darting back and forth. A small sliver of excitement grew in Nameless’s gut. He knew that look all too well. It didn’t go well for whoever got in Mama’s way, typically, but he always wound up going home with a fat bag of coins after.

“I thought Florence was our best pilot?” asked Nameless.

Mama spat on the ground.

“That scum flies for the camp on the other side of the canyon now. We will take care of her soon enough; Aj is our best pilot,” reassured Mama looking up at the two somewhat confused men.

Florence ran off? Nameless asked himself. Typical. Florence was a true project of life in the Wastes. She had been a savage, cunning bounty hunter. Even when they were children, he had hated her. She was always trying to one up him; she abused the camp girls, stole food; she was easily the worst of them. Maybe after this big job, Mama would finally let him deal with her.

“May I be frank, Miss Jockus?” asked Mr. Peirceson, adjusting his tie, a bead of sweat running down his furrowed brow.

“But of course, dear.”

Mr. Peirceson leaned in, profound severity in his tone. “I came to this ragged bunch of tents, full of you dirty vagabonds because of the so-called Nameless Bounty Hunter. The reputation of this camp far exceeds that of which I have witnessed here today,”

“I can do it,” exclaimed Nameless before Mama Jockus's wrath could escape her pierced lips.

Mr. Peirceson raised an eyebrow.

“Have you ever seen a hundred credit bill before?”

“No.”

“Very well, imagine a mountain of everything you value. That is merely a sliver of the value for what I am asking you to retrieve,”

“Why is it so valuable?”

“That is irrelevant.”

“Why is it in a blown-up chemical plant?”

“That is also irrelevant.”

“Why do you want me for this job?”

“Because,” Mr. Peirceson said hesitantly, pausing as he seemed to be weighing his words

“I heard rumors that the denizens of this camp are the best.”

It was decided. Nameless did not like this man. Sure, all the young bounty hunter wanted was money, but at least he wasn’t a soft, stuck-up city slicker like this Mr. Peirceson. It was doubtful Peirceson had ever had to recycle bodily fluids to survive or fight his way out of some decrepit mining shack. He didn’t belong here. But, of course he wanted the help of the “dirty vagabonds” to do some wet work for him.

“You're from the big city, aren't you? Why not hire some big fancy city bounty hunters for this?” asked Nameless.

Mama Jockus harshly kicked his shin beneath the table.

“Because they simply won't do this job. Or can't. Regardless, my concerned party needs this item back soon with the utmost discretion. And as I previously said, the compensation will be far more than adequate,”

Nameless nodded.

“What is this item?” he asked.

“A chemical compound, it was bestowed to the plant's laboratories for research shortly before the plant went down.”

“That plant went down during the war, right? Couple hundred years ago? How would whatever that compound is still be intact? Let alone not spoilt or expired or whatever,” Nameless arched an eyebrow.

“The answer to those questions is exactly why I am here offering such an exuberant amount to your little company for safe transfer and discretion,”

Nameless sighed.

“So, it's in the laboratories?”

“Correct.”

“And I just need to go in and get it, right?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, when?”

“That all depends on how soon compensation comes in,” Mama Jockus slyly interrupted.

Mr. Peirceson pulled out a glass panel from inside his suit, activated the holographic keypad, and entered a relatively long number. He then slid that number across the table for Mama Jockus and the Nameless Bounty Hunter to see. Nameless had never seen so many zeros in his entire life.

“Today, of course!” boomed Mama Jockus gleefully, clapping her hands to signal the girls.

Mr. Peirceson nodded grimly.

“The sooner it is back in my hands, the sooner you receive payment. Please contact me on this device when the bounty hunter has returned, do not use any other form of communication.”

“He will not fail you, Mr. Pearson. Now, off with you child! Julia will fetch your payment for Delcore, then it's off to the plant with you,” Mama Jockus explained joyfully.

Nameless ’s mind was swimming; he was good, sure. But the best? All the best bounty hunters and thieves he saw growing up lay in unmarked graves across the wastes. Guess that's what you get for living on this orange dustbowl.

The girls followed Nameless as the he stood up, nodded to both Mama and the man, then exited the room. Faint whispers could be heard from the girls as they eyed the young man. How long before one of them whispered what had transpired to one of his competitors?

Nameless left the room and came back behind the bar where Julia was anxiously cleaning metal cups. When she saw him, a warm smile outlined her beautiful face.

“So?” she asked inquisitively.

“I want my payment and meal,” he answered grouchily.

Julia huffed and went to get him his reward.

Nameless went over to the farthest right table, away from everyone else. He sat down and pulled out a match, igniting the small stubby candle in front of him.

He gazed up to see Julia returning with a steaming hot plate and a woolsack of changeling coins. His eyes widened, and his mouth watered at seeing the absolute treat in front of him. Real meat, canned ham heated up in the mini oven behind the bar, with a larger than the standard ration of rice that didn't even have any kind of mold yet.

He immediately began scarfing down the food, almost choking, and his stomach roaring. Julia sat beside him, chuckling.

“At least chew it first,” she laughed kindly.

“Easy for you to say, you eat this stuff every day,” he said with a mouthful.

“I do not!” Julia responded incredulously.

Nameless gave her a look, eyebrow arched with a smirk.

“Okay, fine,” Julia said, “maybe every other day, but I'm not that pampered,”

“Your Mama's head girl, Julia, we both know she takes care of you. Besides, why aren't you in there smoking that stuff?”

“You know I prefer my mind clear,” Julia responded shortly, swiping a spoon full of rice.

“That's mine,” he growled.

“I know,” she winked at him. “So, are you going to tell me about this job or what?”

“It's a big one.”

“Well, duh.”

“There's lots of money on the table,”

“Well, of course there is! Did you see that man, with his fancy suit and those eyes, must have cost a fortune. Who do you think he works for? One of the corporations, the government, maybe he's—”

“They're sending me into the chemical plant,” he interrupted.

The color left Julia's face as she went silent.

Nameless continued eating as she stared at the table.

“Eight zero—” Julia said.

“Stop.”

“They can't just send you in there,” she said hotly.

Nameless didn’t respond.

“How many others are going with you? Half a dozen, I hope,”

“Just me.”

Julia scoffed.

“Are you kidding me?” she whispered.

“I can do it.”

“No, you can't. Nameless, that place is a death trap. We kept sending people in there for years, and they never came back,”

“Well, I will.”

“And what makes you so sure?” Julia asked hotly.

He looked at her, trying to take a mental picture of the closest person to a sister he’d ever had.

“Who else is gonna watch over you if I don't come back?”

Julia rolled her eyes as she crossed her arms. “You better come back to us … to me! These last few months without you have been so boring. You left me here with Florence for the gods’ sake! It’s not fair you’re leaving again so soon!”

He nodded absentmindedly as he finished his meal.

A faint engine sound began to overcome the voices of the bar, and the tent started to shake.

“That's my ride,” Nameless said as he put the coins in his satchel and stood up.

“You're not leaving today, are you?” Julia asked, startled. “You just got back!”

“There's a lot of money on the line, Jules, I'll be fine.”

“You know I hate that name, don't you?”

He made his way to the tent entrance and looked back at Julia still sitting at the table.

“And I hate it when you use my numbers. Be seeing ya, try to stay out of trouble, will you?” he asked, then made his way outside.

“No promises!” Julia called after him.

Nameless stepped outside and donned his goggles, scarf, and hood. Now the roaring engines couldn't be ignored, and the camp's denizens stared up at the large antique gunship hovering above the center. It was a simple repurposed craft, more like a heaping pile of metal welded together than a hovercraft with its wings and armament. The glass cockpit in the front was exposed, and the pilot waved at Nameless. He waved back and beckoned to the far side of the camp. The pilot nodded and began his landing.

Nameless ignored the people's attention as he made his way through the end of the camp, the dust from the craft’s landing making it almost impossible to see. The craft extended its rubber landing gear and shuttered to a halt as the vessel sank a bit into the dust.

Its rusty metal body, wings, and tail were a dark grey; the old tourist company logo still faintly seen under the crude paint job. How the metal sheets welded onto the craft stayed put was beyond his reckoning, but it still held together.

The craft's engines shuttered down, and the pilot jumped out to greet Nameless as he approached.

“Aye, Nameless!” The pilot barked warmly with a white toothy grin. Aj was much bigger than Nameless, his exposed dreads dusty and full of knots. His dark skin stood out from his surroundings.

“How's it going, Aj?” Nameless asked as he approached the pilot.

“Not much, man, got a ton of repairs to do to the ol' girl,”

“Yeah, well, we don't really have time for that,”

“The hell you mean?” Aj asked, his eyebrow raised.

“You're flying me to a jobsite tonight.”

“Sweet, hell yeah, okay. Well, I gotta replace some of the fuel lines and patch some of these bullet holes, but I can definitely get you there. Where are we flying to?”

“The chemical plant, far side of the sector.”

Aj was silent, then burst out laughing, clutching his knees as he bent over.

Nameless stood there, letting Aj catch his breath.

“Whew. Oh man, that's good, that's a good one. Oh lords, okay, nah, but seriously, where am I flying ya to?”

“The chemical plant.”

Aj stood here and raised his goggles, revealing his brown eyes as they squinted in the dust. “You’re serious, aren't you?”

“Serious as this paycheck.”

“Bro, is that all this is to you? I almost got fucking shot down trying to steal this bird back from Florence and her goons; now I'm flying you into a quarantined sight?! C'mon, you really only care about money.”

Nameless paused, imagining Florence. Of course, she already had her own gang. “Florence has her own crew?” Nameless asked.

Aj crossed his massive arms. “Killed a few of our guys a couple weeks back, stole a whole bunch of shit. Runs with her own thugs now. They’re bad dudes, man. She runs with all the bounties no one else will even hire. Bet Mama is gonna send us after her once this job is done,”

Nameless nodded, he would have put a bullet in Florence for free. Especially after this betrayal.

“There's something else to this. We've never had a client like this; I wanna find out what's going on,” Nameless changed the subject.

Aj rubbed his temples. Finally, he sighed heavily and nodded.

“Big paycheck?”

“Big.”

“How big?”

“Biggest we've gotten yet.”

“Bullshit.”

“I'm telling you, man, this is the big one.”

Aj nodded. “Fine, but you're helping me repair this thing. Florence damn near made it unflyable,” He pointed at the bullets still lodged in the glass in front of the pilot seat.

“She's gonna come back for this.”

“Yeah, but that's what we got you for!”

Aj laughed and smacked Nameless ’s chest as they walked over to find tools and a welding stick.

“Welcome home by the way! Shit’s been wild since you’ve been gone.”

The repairs were monotonous and slow. Periodically Julia would bring out drinks for them, scolding Aj for damaging the craft so severely.

Aj would respond with a series of curses and flaunts at how easy Julia's life was. Nameless kept to himself. He wasn't really a people person. They didn't really make sense to him, better to let others talk while he worked. Everyone cared about feelings, and the wellbeing of others. As long as Aj and Julia had a tent over their head, food in their bellies, and he had a pocket full of cash, Nameless couldn’t give less of a damn.

Just as the sun set, repairs were nearly complete. Nameless was checking his satchel, making sure he had everything he needed. Julia was apprehensive, pacing back and forth, and Aj was babbling about his new rifle scope and explaining how he took out one of Florence's goons with it.

Julia brought over new and thick leather clothes with a newer gas mask.

Nameless thanked her, then turned to go stow the gear.

“You guys heading out tonight?” she asked with her hands on her hips.

“Looks like,” Aj grunted, heaving the welding tank over to a new side of the craft.

“I don’t think that’s very safe.”

“And why’s that?” Nameless chuckled.

“The sky’s not safe these days. All the other camps have their own aircraft, ya know. I bet Florence has her own guys prowling right now.”

“We’ll be fine,” Nameless shrugged.

Julia was about to retort when the tent flaps opened, and Mama Jockus came striding out.

“Hello, Mama,” all three chimed.

“Ah, my children! How are we on this fine evening?” Mama said, studying the hovercraft. “It is a shame you did not send that disloyal harpy to the afterlife. I do not like the idea of her running around looking for revenge.”

“She’s kin, Mama,” Aj started.

“She was bought for half a ration, same as the rest of you!” Mama Jockus spat. “I give you all a good life, train you, give you work. Slaves, keeping money? Poor old Mama Jockus treats you all so well. And this is how she repays me?!”

“Like you said, she's a disloyal harpy,” Nameless said nonchalantly.

Mama Jockus smiled, holding her arms wide. “I am sure our Nameless Bounty Hunter will address this transgression someday, but for now, let us focus on the job at hand,”

“You mean suicide mission?” Julia interjected.

“Do not get smart with me, girl, this is good work for good money. I can get all three of you good food, new clothes, and weapons! The likes of which you have never seen and still not even put a dent in this payment! Why can't you be grateful, child?”

“Drop it, Julia,” Nameless commanded. Julia scowled.

“Repairs are done, Mama; we can stow the gear and be on our way soon,” Aj reported.

Mama waved her hand. “Go in the morning and drop him off at one of the smokestacks. The Wellers are on the prowl tonight. I don't need you two getting shot down.

Aj and Nameless nodded. Mama beckoned to Julia.

“Let us go inside, child, they need their rest. Tomorrow is a massive day!”