As Villains Die Part 4
04 May 2018Kiyomo
It was a dive, that was for sure. Nothing like it on the stations back home, something you can only find on planet side visits or the dark sector where authorities try not to go. The bar had a beat almost imbedded into it, like a heart constantly pulsing, and everyone could feel it. They all moved to it, swayed and danced. Heads bobbing, mostly subconsciously. The bar was full beyond its max movement would be a problem. He noted.A hand placed itself upon his shoulder and Kiyomo reached towards his hip but stopped as the hand squeezed. It wasn’t a hard squeeze, just enough that it registered who the hand belonged to. He relaxed, and the grip loosened and released. It was Du Mont, a criminal to most and a friend to some. He counted himself lucky that he fell into the latter category.
“Easy lad, no need to shoot up the King Dice. Simple people here, besides, it’d add to your debt. There by the blackjack tables. See him?” Kiyomo squinted his eyes, no more than 100 yds away from him stood a walking cash out of a hundred thousand credits. He knew the man the face belonged to, because he had served with him. He was an imperial officer who had fled to Federation space and sought refuge from the gangs in the area.
“Aye, Warrant Officer Francis Fletch. I see him, what’s next?” He had known the answer already but asked out of habit; they would work through the bar, then through the casino and finally take him when he was most vulnerable. Du Monts response was dry and tired, as if he was disinterested.
“Work our way through the bar, saddle up next to him at the tables, then grab him when he goes to take a piss.” Kiyomo nodded and began to make his way through the crowd, stopping at the bar for a well-deserved refreshment. He had begun drinking again after his arrival.
“Its part of the nation here. If you don’t drink, you’ll stand out. Get used to the taste and never finish your drink. Drink smart, not with heart.” Du Mont had told him. He hadn’t argued, he needed the relief. The edge was too sharp, it needed to be dulled. Liquor was excellent at that.
“Whiskey.” The bartender nodded and made busy with a single glass and a bottle of the dark liquid.
“Two fingers or three, sir?”
“Two on the rocks.” Another nod. He produced a few ice cubes and placed them into the glass, followed by the liquor before sliding closer to Kiyomo. He took it and slid the bartender a chip, making sure to add a few extra credits for pouring a nicer bottle instead of the regular bargain brand. He took the glass in one and felt his body react. It was always the same, even as a soldier he had never fully acquired the ability to drink without a reaction of some sort. It felt like his mouth seized for a moment and he let out a breath. It was smoother than he expected, if only just.
“Keys,” the earpiece buzzed, he didn’t flinch, didn’t touch his ear. He was used to wet work and espionage. Don’t touch your ear, don’t give yourself away, be a face in the crowd. “Seats open at the table. You should take it.” He had noted the same. Apparently, the Wealthy aristocrat who had been losing constantly next to Francis had finally lost his last hand and decided to give up, to the surprise of no one paying attention. Kiyomo made his way through the crowd and found himself at the now vacant chair.
“Seat open? Or is it bad luck?” He asked to no one in particular, making sure to speak just a little raspier and lower than usual. It wouldn’t be a hard tone to take, and he wanted to ensure that Francis didn’t recognize him. He had been clean shaven and was unscarred when they had served together, but a voice is something that always lingers. Though the new beard and scar across his face would help too.
“On the contrary actually. Having someone in that seat has been remarkably good for my luck.” He sounded almost pleased that someone had shown up. Kiyomo pulled the seat out and waved the credit chip used for gambling, the dealer gave him a curt nod and began to deal the next hand. The table had four people ignoring the dealer and counting Kiyomo. Kiyomo sat on the far-right end, Francis to his left, a beauty aristocrat woman adorned in jewels and lace to his left, and finally a rough looking man of about 40 at the far left. It was high stakes, so lower players, but a few seats were still empty as well.
“Welcome to the table, hopefully your luck fares better than our dear friend who just left.” Kiyomo laughed.
“I saw he was having a hard time there. Sometimes the cards just aren’t in your favor and sometimes they are.”
“Well, lets see where yours fall.” It was the woman who had chimed in now. The grizzled man looked irritated.
“I didn’t realize we all sat down to socialize.” He barked, though not as harshly as Kiyomo suspected he could. The other three patrons glanced at him and then at each other before going back to their conversation. Kiyomo had been dealt an 8 and a King, the dealer showed a Queen. He made the motion to stay. The others followed their motions similarly.
The dealer had had a Queen and a two, hit and got a jack. The table rejoiced at the bust and collected their winnings. Everyone then went through and selected their wagers again and the process repeated itself. It wasn’t difficult in any sense, in fact the game took more common sense than luck. Kiyomo had liked that. Sure, you could cheat the system, count the cards, but the honest way was more fun and less taxing on a job.
“Esmerelda.” The woman said after a few more hands had passed. The group, including the dealer all faltered.
“Esmerelda Blume? The moguls wife?” Francis asked, he made the motion to split on a pair of Jacks and received a 2 and an Ace. Esmerelda raised her chin and laughed.
“Well, I’m not surprised to see you’ve heard of me. I’m known in these sorts of places.” They all laughed a moment. Francis looked at Kiyomo and then at Esmerelda.
“Francis, though I doubt you’d have heard of me.” She took a moment, made the motion to stay, and then pointed an accusatory finger his way.
“Fletch? Francis Fletch? The war hero?” He chuckled.
“So, I guess you have heard of me.”
“Well, yes. Though I suspect most of the lesser secured sectors would also have heard of you! Though you had a partner, didn’t you? A handsome fellow I believe. I heard he made somewhat of a name for himself after the war. What was him name again? Kiyoto? Kayos?”
“Kiyomo.” Kiyomo spoke slowly, accidently making eye contact with Fletch as he did. He eased his left hand onto his holstered blaster, preparing to take Fletch with force if he had accidentally made himself. To his surprise, Fletch didn’t seem to notice.
“Yes, Kiyomo. A good kid, if a little too headstrong for my taste as a partner. Though, I do feel for him. He didn’t make it much longer after the war. He was killed by pirates after he retired. Been more than a few years since I’ve thought about him.” The rotation came back to Kiyomo once more and, after having won the previous round, he felt a little cocky and made to hit. He busted and leaned back, giving an overdone performance of exasperation.
“I hear he had a falling out with a commander from when he was stationed, and the commander wanted him silenced.” Esmerelda jabbed back. She seemed the type to gossip. Fletch fell silent, he looked down at his cards as if he were scrutinizing his next move, but to Kiyomo he could tell what it really was. Only those with demons can see other demons. It has an air, an aura almost. The ear piece let out a small noise of static as it buzzed to life once more.
“Okay, were set to make a move. Go ahead and start whenever you’re ready.” Kiyomo sighed, he had enjoyed this, but the work is the work. He made a motion to a passing waiter and then looked over the table.
“What is everyone drinking? Its on me, though only this round. I haven’t won nearly enough to keep it going all night.” He laughed, and the table laughed with him. They each placed their orders and the waiter dutifully took note and rushed off. It was another round before he returned and placed them on the table.
The conversation slowly shifted to the changing odds and to who was taking whose luck, common table rabble. Not long after, Fletch stood to excuse himself to the washroom. The drink having gone right through him, he claimed. They each bid him a joke of good luck and went back to their struggle of keeping the money they had entered with. As the minutes passed, 5 exactly, Kiyomo threw up his hands and exclaimed his final loss of the night. The table once more laughed and bid him good luck in his endeavors.
Kiyomo made his way through the crowded bar once more, finding the bathroom that Fletch had gone into to, and pushed his way through the door. It was empty, spare a single stall being occupied. He knocked twice on the door and waited for a response. When none came he fiddled with the external mechanism and clicked it open. Sitting half slumped on the seat was Fletch, not passed out but in a state of semi-conscious. A sudden shift in the beat outside drew Kiyomos’ attention. Then the headset sparked to life once more.
“KEYS! We have a problem! Grab Francis and get the fuck out of there, we have company!” Then he heard the beat again and a realization fell over him. Blaster fire with a noise suppression augment sounds very similar to that of a bass blast. As the thought reached its final point in Kiyomos mind, the door to the bathroom fell in, a body going with it.