Chapter 4: Omicron Station pt .2

After Aiden and VIC left, Jack was finally alone in the apartment. Without psycho biker bitches, homicidal reptilians, wide-eyed teenagers and annoying robots to pester him, Jack decided to reward himself with a quick shower. He showered with the shotgun, and with the door ajar, although he had little reason to believe anybody would burst into his apartment looking to kill him twice in a day. Not even he was that unlucky. After the shower he changed into some fresh clothes, except for the leather jacket which he simply wiped down, removing the worst blood stains and skull fragments. Then he chugged down some painkillers with whiskey and bandaged his broken hand before he started filling a duffel bag with a few items he didn’t want to leave behind. The shotgun, three pistols, some clothes and a few items belonging to an old roommate. He didn’t have much here, as most of his life was on Amagi anyways.

Leaving the apartment with the three dead Kintos behind with no intention of ever returning, Jack hailed an autocab and flew to level 27E. Reaching the mid-level, Jack quickly found his way to the inconspicuous bar where he usually met his handler. Strictly speaking, he didn’t need to meet her face to face, as most contracts could be facilitated through other means of communication. Some hunters had never even met their handler in person. But Achara preferred to look her hunters in the eyes before she possibly sent them to their deaths. Jack appreciated that about her.

The Sangre Vital was an establishment primarily catering to professional hunters and mercenaries. Here you could mingle with like-minded individuals, talk about your latest endeavors and pick up contracts. Most importantly, however, you could drink in private, with the knowledge that as long as you didn’t stir up any trouble, people would leave you in peace. Jack made his way through the dim-lit room, and past the many tables and cubicles. The establishment was only around half full by this hour, but as usual, it was never empty. Jack brushed past two of Madamé Chassa’s whores. A busty Terran female and one lilac-skinned Varsii male, whose revealing clothes and silk loincloth did very little to hide his impressive endowment below. New whores by the looks of it. Jack nodded respectfully at the aged Kormak as he passed by, and she nodded back from her luxurious corner cubicle surrounded by more whores, and a rough looking Skamiir bodyguard whose name Jack had forgotten. Two of his four muscular blue arms rested on a set of machete-looking blades in his belt, and the other pair held an impressive ballistic rifle that looked like it was capable of significant mayhem. Madame Chassa was known as a harsh but fair employer, and she was a permanent feature in the Sangre Vital and section 27E. Her whores were the only ones working in and around the establishment, and anybody being too rough with the talent, would experience quick and harsh reprisal. More than a few newcomers had ended their days in the sections dumpsters or hacked up in some garbage disposal in the Warrens. Nobody laid hands on Chassa’s girls and lived to tell the tale.

Managing the bar, stood the owner. A tall muscular Latino man in his mid-forties, that could easily be mistaken for being thirty. Sicario was a former mercenary and outlaw, who had been sentenced 60 years in a Federation triple-max facility on the ice giant Chrynos, for a political murder he claimed he didn’t do. Few on Omicron knew how Sicario had escaped that frozen hellhole, infamously referred to as the ‘subzero death sentence’. Jack knew. He was there during the escape, and it had cost Sicario his left arm. In its place, he had a prosthetic bionic arm of dark metal. He saw Jack and grinned. “Hola carnal, it’s been a long time. Glad to see you are not dead yet.”

They locked hands for a moment as if arm wrestling. Sicario’s technologically advanced arm on par with Jacks bio-enhancement. His brown eyes glinted, and he slapped Jack brotherly on the shoulder. Jack winced in pain.

“What happened to you?” he asked looking at Jack’s beaten appearance. The dark clothing he wore made it hard to see the dried blood, but the makeshift bandage of his broken hand and his more-than-usually ragged appearance gave him away.

“I had sex with Irina.” Jack answered with a wry smile, as he sat down on a worn bar stool.

Sicario whistled. “She has always been a feisty one. Wouldn’t mind taking her for a ride myself though.”

“I’m sure Ja’ezz wouldn’t appreciate that.” Jack retorted, referring to Sicario’s Zhemerian partner through many years.

Sicario laughed “She would wear my cojones like a necklace. But a man can dream, can’t he?”

Sicario’s bionic arm worked with precise organic movements as he started making a Terragon Nova. Jack’s favorite drink.

“So, what’s new Sicario?”

“We got a new ripper, with some sweet new implants. I got a military-grade optic upgrade, and he enhanced the strength of my arm.” answered Sicario as he liberally poured tequila into a lowball glass.

“Yeah, I felt that. And I’m good amigo.“

“Arh, claro hermano, almost forgot that you are superhuman, you don’t need no upgrades.” He said mockingly, flashing him a broad smile followed by his signature wink. A combination that allegedly had charmed off its fair share of panties through the years. Before Ja’ezz that is. And Jack didn’t wear panties.

Jack snorted “Yeah, I don’t know about that. Higher durability might just mean more punishment.” He winced from a sudden surge of pain as if his body heard his complaints and penalized him for it.

“I also killed Khogoshh.” He added, making sure not to declare his gang murder too loudly.

Sicario’s expression grew stern as he added the Demostryxul into the drink. Demostryxul was a psychedelic compound originally extracted from the highly toxic Terragon jellyfish from the planet Kavaronia. Now it was synthesized off-planet. It was a lucrative business. The drink began to fizz and seethe as the compound mixed with the rest of the drink.

“We expected you would collide with him sooner or later. You are expecting retaliation?” Sicario asked, referring to the Nova Hellions, as he added a slice of lemon, and held out the finished drink in all its fizzy glory.

Jack shrugged, accepted the drink and took a deep swig. Fucking perfect. Jack usually didn’t care for fizzy drinks, but the Teragon Nova was different. It felt cleansing somehow. Drinking it was like boiling your brain in acid and having fire shot through your veins. It opened your mind to new possibilities, sucked away your dark thoughts and took away physical pain. All with a slice of lemon. It was a hell of a drink.

“I had hoped somebody else would kill Rayden in my absence, so I didn’t have to bother. But seems I don’t have a choice anymore.”

“I don’t know Jack. The Nova Hellions are no pushovers. Last I heard they even gained a foothold in the Hive.”

This Hive shit again.

“I will deal with him when I have the time. No matter if he is in the Hive or not.”

“That might be sooner rather than later. Rayden’s boys four o’clock.” Sicario said in a low voice, motioning for the entrance, as his hands discretely went for the scattergun underneath the bar. Speaking of the devil. Jack took another swig from his drink and looked casually around the bar, his left hand inconspicuously falling to his gun. It was clearly some of Rayden’s boys that just entered in their black and yellow Nova Hellion outfits. And boys were right, as none of the three Terrans looked a day over eighteen. They were loud, and playfully pushing each other, as one of Sicario’s bar girls lead them to a nearby table. Other patrons looked up from their drinks, games, and companionship to look at the loud newcomers. Jack could see that the boys were completely oblivious of the fact that they were newly hatched fish that had just entered shark infested-waters. From her cubicle, Madame Chassa waved one of her large four-digeted hands, and the two new whores that Jack had passed on his way in made their way towards the newcomers’ table.

“Well, they are not here for me. Rayden knows better than to send men in here of all places, and he would never send kids after me either.” These scrubs were far from the likes of Khogoshh. Jack removed the hand from his gun and gulped down the rest of the drink. The burning sensation and the fizz from the drink made his hands tingle and his vision flash, and he could already feel the pain dissipate.

Sicario took the glass and started to make another. “Don’t be so sure carnal. The gangs of the Warren have been hyperactive lately.”

“It does look as bad as ever down there.” Jack concurred, recalling the underage hooker and her bitch mother.

The Latino nodded. “The gang wars in the Warrens are getting worse, so the gangs are hiring anybody old enough to carry a weapon. Power struggles in the Hive are also spilling into the mid-levels. So, they come up more frequently, showing gang affiliations, especially the younger ones like those,” He said motioning at the three young Terrans that had sat down by their table, with Chassa’s two whores circling them, hungry for attention. “They spend their bloodied credits on higher-level entertainment before they scurry back to the Undercity.”

“The Triumvirate allows that?” asked Jack surprised. Gangs and syndicates changing levels and climbing up Omicron’s ruthless hierarchy were not unusual. But the Warrens pushing upwards was rare, as the more powerful syndicates and cartels did not tolerate the instability it brought. The short-lived and high-octane gangs of the Warrens brought uncertainty, chaos, and violence in their wake. That was bad for business.

“So far,” Sicario shrugged “who knows what they think. They are probably busy with their own schemes. This post-war economy is keeping everybody busy.” He added the Demostryxul to the new drink and it fizzed angrily. “But Moran from the Dark Stars did try to establish a chapter on this level a few months ago.”

“Where?”

“Sector 27C”

“Kzar Suhr’s territory?” asked Jack, referring to an Akarian gangster known for his exceptional cruelty, who basically ran all of sector 27C.

Sicario nodded and smiled crookedly “Si, as you can imagine that old bastardo did not approve, and it didn’t go well for the biker boys.“ He chuckled. “Suddenly there were hoverbikes everywhere, blasting through sector C and E. They wanted to capitalize on the instability of the mid-levels, and the weakening of the Suhr family after the Kormak incident. But Kzar wouldn’t have it. Their chapter was here for three days, then they were all massacred. All 42 members of the chapter.” Sicaro added the lime and passed the drink to Jack.

“Kzar had Moran tortured before they killed him. They recorded it, and his screams and death rattle were broadcasted every day at noon for twenty minutes in this sector and 27C.” Sicario shook his head “Bastardo loco. Of all the Akarians to mess with on this station, Kzar would definitely be one of my last picks. Moran’s and his lieutenants’ heads were mounted in front of the repulsor lifts as a warning for other Warren gangs. You can still see what’s left of their bare skulls.”

Jack nodded in agreement. Kzar Suhr was most definitely one of the more dangerous mid-level gangsters. An acquaintanceship Jack had thankfully avoided so far.

“Dark Stars retaliated?” he took a sip of the new drink and felt another surge of numbing fire blast through his body. He had to grimace slightly as it momentarily felt like his brain was submerged in soda.

Sicario shook his head “Nah hermano, I think old papa Zulu didn’t mind Moran’s departure.” He answered referring to the leader of the Dark Stars. “Word is he is fucking Morans old lady, or daughter. Or maybe both. Who knows with that parejo.” Sicario laughed heartily, as he refilled a large jar with green alcoholic liquid to a Fehrn slumped over the bar. The large amphibious creature looked to be asleep, but when the glass was filled, its strange mouth began sucking loudly on the straw.

“Your handler has arrived.” Sicario motioned with his head towards the door.

Jack turned in his stool and saw his handler enter, closely followed by two men dressed in black. He lifted his drink to greet her, and she went to sit in a cubicle located in one of the more private corners.

“Alright amigo, I will catch you later.”

Sicaro winked “Órale.“

Jack took his drink and went to the cubicle where Achara sat. Her shoulder-length black hair fell on her exposed tattooed shoulders as she sat bent over an electronic pad, her hands working in perfect tandem on its interface.

“Aaaah, the prodigal son returns.” She said in a mocking tone, not looking up from the pad, but lifting a slim dark eyebrow as a way of greeting.

“How have you been Ach?”

Achara was of Thai descent, and as such just one of many thousands of Asians on Omicron. After severe government crackdown on organized crime on Earth, organizations such as the Yakuza, Triads and other Asian crime syndicates had found new opportunities in space. Many had settled and unified on Omicron under the name Yunakobē, sometimes referred to as the Shadow Syndicate. They were the undisputed masters of Terran gangsters on Omicron, and every attempt from other Terran crime organizations had been brutally shut down. Except for a small Russian-Slavic enclave dealing primarily in weapons. But Jack was of the impression that they existed purely with the goodwill and acceptance of the Yunakobē. Although not directly a part of the syndicate, Achara enjoyed their protection by pushing some of their contracts on capable hands and keeping them informed about what was going on in the hunter community.

Jack recognized her twin bodyguards in their dark suits. Shoto and Ryu. They were both completely infatuated with her and had been so for years. But Jack knew she had no interest in them. Not unless they had a sister.

“I’ve been busy. No thanks to you I might add.” Achara said, looking up from the interface. Her purple irises turned a few rounds in her eyes, as they recalibrated after disconnecting from the pad’s interface. Both Achara’s eyes were bionic, and Jack was oblivious as to how she had lost her own eyes. Two identical scars under each eye indicated that it might not have been willingly though.

“Well, I need work.” said Jack as he sipped his drink.

“Your track record hasn’t been the best lately, maybe it’s time you stop working alone and hire some help.”

“I already hired somebody.”

“Who?” Achara asked, raising one slim eyebrow. “Marok? Don’t tell me it’s that crazy bitch Khali again, you two are too unpredictable together. You feed on each other’s darkness.”

Jack shook his head, somewhat annoyed that she would bring up Khali “No, it’s a kid from the Warrens. Aiden. He’s completely green but eager to learn.”

Silence. Then she burst out laughing. “You got an intern Jack? You!?”

“Do you have a job or not?” He was getting irritable. The potent drinks had taken away most of the pain and replaced it with a warm numbing feeling, but they also seemed to have increased his noise sensitivity, and Achara’s outburst pierced his ears like a cutting torch.

“I do. It’s well paid, but it might get really ... complicated ... so I can’t give it to you unless you partner up with somebody.”

She snapped her fingers, and Shoto (or Ryu) handed her a Nicotiana stick. The same brand as Irina smoked, Jack noticed. Jack was about to answer, but she cut him short, her attractive face distorted in anticipated annoyance.

“Somebody who is not the kid or VIC,” She shot him a serious gaze with those intense bionic eyes of her. “I mean it, Jack. When you really put your mind to it, you are one of my best. But if I give you a higher tier contract, you have to promise me that there will be no distractions.”

“I work better alone.”

Achara looked pissed and she smacked her tattooed arms down on the table “Find somebody or go find work elsewhere. Good look finding anybody who will provide you with as transparent and well-paid jobs as I do.”

Her voice gave a clear indication that it was not up for discussion, and Jack desperately needed the money. Jack turned the glass in his hand for a while and looked as if he was considering it. In reality, he had expected she wouldn’t give him a better contract without hiring more help. Not with how he had performed this year. But he would be damned if he would make it seem like he took on the hired help willingly.

“Alright, I will find somebody.” He conceded finally. At least for now.

“What about Drex?” Achara suggested exhaling a breath of vapor, her lips set in a devious grin. Her mood could change from sunshine to thunderstorm and back again in a matter of seconds.

“He is retired, and you know that.” Jack answered, his voice lacking certainty. He did the best to not look overly interested.

Achara’s expression grew smug. “I have been keeping tabs on him, and he seemed to have racked up a significant gambling debt.”

It did not surprise him. Drex had always been a gambler and risk-taker. It was in his blood.

“Last time I saw him was years ago, he gave up the hunter life. Never re-registered in the Bounty Hunter Association. Never once quit his job at the shipyard. Never once got a bounty on him for gambling debts.” Jack had kept tabs on him too.

“Well, I have it from trustworthy sources, that he owes the Yunakobē over 100 ticks. And they are getting impatient with him.”

That was not an insignificant debt to owe to a highly dangerous organization known to remove victims’ spleens with industrial hacksaws or death by a thousand cuts from some ancient oriental blade. Yet, maybe not enough for his wives to allow the father of their children to start hunting with the Terran again. When choosing between Jack and an organization built on intimidation, ancient torture methods and detached brutality, he was not sure he would even come out on top in their eyes.

“That might be, but his wives would never allow it.” Achara rolled her eyes. “Skamiirs are hopelessly patriarchal, you just have to cultivate some of those primordial macho genes of his, so he can tell off his wives. I am sure you can manage.”

Jack pressed the fingers to his sinuses, stifling a laugh, but unable to stop himself from chuckling. “You clearly don’t know his wives.”

“Well, figure it out. No hired help, no contract.” Achara said calibrating her purple eyes to her electronic pad once again, her tone and demeanor indicating that their little rendezvous was over.

Jack emptied his drink and bid Achara farewell. She waved dismissively with a tattooed hand.

Outside the Sangre Vital was the usual chaotic scene. Hoverbikes and cars snaked in between the many people of different species living or visiting this sector. The neon signs of the entertainment venues were distinct against the general grey and dark facades, their fluorescent light unable to illuminate the narrow alleys that covered this level. Like black veins in a decaying body. The murmured thuds of music from bars and dance clubs were barely discernable above the noise from the traffic. Hailing an autocab, Jack set off towards Drex address in Sector 23G. Inside the autocab, he put his head against the glass of the window, enjoying its coolness against his skin. The drinks from the bar had left him with a warm fuzzy feeling, and as he clenched and unclenched his hand, he swore he could feel his enhanced healing ability, knitting him together from the inside. He wondered how the headstrong wives of Drex were going to react when he suggested their husband got back into the business. Although polite to him, they had never been big fans of his. They would definitely yell. As the autocab delved lower, Jack’s mind wandered to his old friend. Drex had retired after the Mirellian hunt. They had been a crew of eight back then, but after that bloodbath of a job, they had only been three left. Jack, Drex and Khali. Having two babies on the way with his stubborn twin wives, Drex had decided to turn in his weapons for baby toys. Jack hadn’t seen him since. He and Khali had continued for some months together, in what was almost a blur to him. Teamed up just the two of them had almost cost him everything. Since they dramatically split after an action-filled night on the planet Kavaronia, which involved an eccentric billionaire, six dead hookers and a schizophrenic scientist, he had decided to work alone. Just him and VIC. It had been like that for more than three years now.