Big Damn Heroes - Chapter 1: Uneasy Partnership
15 Oct 2016Nickolas Calhoun
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Big Damn Heroes - Chapter 1: Uneasy Partnership
---Some out-of-the-way Shitpile of a Station - Local bar---
My buddy, Benito was not kidding when he said that this would be an out-of-the-way, shitpile of a station. Why anyone would willingly visit this place was beyond me. It was dank, looked like it was falling apart and most of the inhabitants looked dreary and depressed. The bar I sat in seemed to be the only place where there was any life.
I sat back in a booth, taking in the view as I waited for my soon-to-be partner to arrive. The music was loud, the lighting was dim but colourful and a group of men crowded around a stage in the middle, howling and barking like dogs at dancers in various states of undress, throwing credit chips their way. I grimace at the sight and order two glasses of the watered down but somehow overpriced swill they’re serving; one for me, and one for my mysterious contact.
Once the glasses were laid out and I was confident nobody was scrutinizing me too closely, I pulled a slip of red cloth from my pocket and wound it around my left arm. It, combined with a brief challenge and passphrase, would identify me to my new associate, and vice versa. Now, all there was to do was wait.
And waiting was what I did; my contact was over an hour late by my count. In that time I’d spent more money than I felt entirely comfortable with and rebuffed the advances of several hollow eyed and scantily clad women. I denied them as politely as I could; there’s no need to make their day any worse that it already is, but it really was starting to get annoying. To top it all off, I wasn’t even buzzed, despite the amount of “liquor” I’d put down. I wasn’t even sure there was any liquor in these drinks.
In the time I’d spent waiting, dozens of people had come and gone from the club, but none of them had the look of a trained mercenary or assassin. They looked like poor, working class schmucks who came to unwind after a long day of work by getting drunk and ogling some tits.
I bet at least half of them are unsatisfied with their marriages.
Before long, a tall woman with short, red and black hair entered the scene. She stood out in the dingy club, not in the least because she is the only woman wearing more than a thong and a swim top; she was wearing a black leather jacket over a red shirt, and her cargo pants were tucked into a scuffed up pair of high black combat boots. She walked with an air of hard confidence, tempered by the jerky motions of someone under the influence of strong stimulants. Her hand rested on her right hip, where I was sure she had a gun hidden under her jacket.
She scanned the room, taking in every detail before focusing on the red bandana wound around my arm. If I didn’t know before, I sure as hell knew now; this was my new partner. She clenched her jaw almost imperceptibly and gave me a quick once over, before striding over to the booth and taking the seat next to me.
There was a pause as she glanced around the room again, and then she spoke. “It was a long flight.”
I nodded slowly and then responded in kind. “It’s only as long as you make it.”
That’s her alright.
“This for me?” She asked, and picked up the glass in front of her.
I nodded again. “It’s only polite to have a drink ready for your acquaintance,” I paused, furrowing a little. “Although I can’t speak positively about the quality.”
She took a small sip and scrunched her eyebrows. “Jesus, who do I have to fuck to get a good drink around here?”
I sat back, relaxed and smiled in amusement. “I told you. Still, booze is booze, right?”
She maintained her frown, firmly placing the glass back on the table and reached into her jacket, pulling out a cigarette.
“This isn’t booze!” She lit the cigarette, taking a long drag and blowing heavily out toward the main bar.
Well ain’t she charming. I thought to myself. Her accent wasn’t one I was familiar with. Sounded like something from the Imperial frontier.
“Well if they had anything better, I sure as shit wouldn’t be drinking this,” I remarked, maintaining my relaxed demeanor.
I broke the brief silence to introduce myself. “Name’s Calhoun. Nickolas Calhoun.” I offered my hand. Her hand remained on her glass, the other holding her cigarette while she refused to look at me.
“Anna,” she responded in a cold tone.
I retracted my hand, mildly embarrassed.
Yep, a real charmer, this one.
“Right, well I suppose we’d better get down to business,” I remarked, pulling my datapad and bringing up the mission brief. “Looks like a pretty simple smash ‘n’ grab. Smash the creep, grab the girl, return home on time-”
Anna interrupted me. “No, grabbing the brat is on you. I’m here to kill this guy, not rescue some spoiled little shit.”
“That’s my part of the deal anyway, Buddy.”
She me a resentful look. “First rule, no pet names, no nicknames. We’re not friends. I’m here for the job, not to make lifelong memories.”
I smirked. “Relax, I call everyone, buddy, even people I don’t like.”
“Watch it buddy.” She snarled out the last word with enough venom to kill a rattlesnake.
“Glad to see we’re getting along,” I responded with a mild hint of sarcasm.
I typed in a few keys in my datapad, bringing up Conrad’s dossier. “We’re dealing with a past history of mental illness, delusion. He claims he’s a part of some mucky-muck called The Phantom Buzzards.” I scrolled down a few lines, raising my eyebrow in mock surprise. “Hell, it says here that he tried to eat his family, and that’s what got him sent into the nuthouse in the first place.”
Anna shook her head, grinding her cigarette out in the ashtray in the middle of the table, reaching into her jacket to grab another.
“I know of the Phantom Buzzards. They take anyone with a pulse and dish out medals for participation. Lots of members, not a lot of action.”
I shrugged, signalling for a waiter to get another drink. “What I want to know is how this princess of ours-”
She interrupted me again. “Yours.”
“Look now, just like you, I’m in this for the credits, and the credits only… And perhaps the chance to space a real wacko, anyway-” I paused as a scantily clad waitress approached, filling my glass with the less-than-average whisky they had in stock and accepting my credit chip. Anna declined, instead pouring a white powder on the table, carefully shifting it into lines before inhaling as much of each line as she could.
“What I wanna know is how the daughter of some rich guy ends up with a nutjob like this?”
Anna shook her head as she lit up her next cigarette. “Beats me, neither of them are much to look at.”
I grinned, bringing up the dossier for the missing woman. “Looks like she ain’t much better,” I scrolled down the page. “None of the delusions, obsessive tendencies or desire to eat her own family, but she was involved with another pilot in her old wing. The whole thing went sour, and she went on the run. That’s when she ran into this psycho.”
Anna’s lips curled into what might have been the slightest of grins, fighting against her attempts to maintain her scowl.
“Any port in a storm?”
“Looks that way- for both of them. But she wised up real quick and is now in over her head.”
The merc took a long drag of her cigarette. “And I suppose that’s where we come in.”
I killed off the datapad, placing it on the table. “Like I said, track ‘em down, kill the creep, grab the princess, return home on time for a nice payday and a bottle of real liquor. Like a snatch ‘n grab, except-”
Anna smirked and nodded. "-except it’s less snatch and grab, and more shoot a psychotic weirdo in the face and deliver the mewling brat back to her rich father. And make lots of money doing it. I hope you have an atmo suit she can fit in, because there’s no way in hell I am giving up one of mine.”
I took the last gulp of my drink. “Well, you’re a little more cheerful ain’t you.”
Her venomous expression returned. “Don’t get comfortable, buddy.”
I think she needs some happy pills or something.
I shrugged once more. “Well, I think our first step is to track down someone from these Phantom Buzzards and get more information on this guy.”
The slim merc rolled her eyes and stubbed out her cigarette. “You mean we actually have to go and visit those boy scouts?”
I grinned. “And likely fend off their attempts to recruit us and boost their numbers, but they’re the last people who’ve seen this psycho, so they’re our best bet of finding him.”
The disgruntled merc stood from her seat, turning away and pausing before striding off.
“Well, let’s not waste any time them. I’ll see you in space. Don’t fuck around.”
With the same air of confidence as when she arrived, she made her way out of the bar. I gulped down the last of my drink.
Well, this is going to be some adventure ain’t it…