Tales from the Wheel

“It was touch and go there for a bit Piz my man. But once they said we were being sent to The Copper Lane Security Services for detention I knew we had our opening. They happen to be one of the most easily bribable

Enforcement organizations in the entire Consortia, hell maybe in all the Three Realms.”  

- Tasker Gunn, Smuggler.

Setting The Home Fires Ablaze.

Summer, Earth Year 2901- Hassan’s Corner, The Copper Lane District, Mars.

“Yuri, don’t be so stupid.” Ben chided him, “There aren’t any giant mutated dogs taking over the Earth. Besides, who would want that shithole anyway? Watching too much Celebu-Sleaze investigations is rotting your brain.” Yuri, the fourth member of the crew Mandy had rushed to catch up with was also the youngest at 10 years old. He stamped his foot angerly as he responded, stubbornly unwilling to yield to the older boy’s logic yet, “That footage of that thing breaking into the food stores wasn’t fake Ben. The De- De-Bunkers proved that…”

“Yes, but Yuri…” Mandy interrupted from the nearby bench she and Isabella sat on, “It was likely a regular animal, not some crazy mutant. Kraken showed me some books with pictures and old historical footage. Here, take a look.” She pulled up an old wildlife book on her tablet. “See that picture? It looks like the footage, right? It’s called a bear. They thought they went extinct after The Cataclysm, but maybe not, right. It could be a Sasquatch too. I hear they supposedly also went extinct around the same time.” Yuri, not willing to be fully convinced that the mutant angle was wrong yet but unable to think of another argument, muttered, “Ah, whatever.” And dropped the topic, for now.

“Ice cream’s here.” Damian had been grabbing their order from the Stank Shop and was returning to the benches. They had just finished their afternoon lessons at Ruby’s and Canuck hadn’t said anything about stopping along the way after classes were done. The five blobs of flavored sugar cream sitting on their cones; three chocolate, one strawberry and one butterscotch-ripple, would likely be nearly inedible to someone who had tried actual real ice cream. For these five youngsters, however, this was most likely as close as they would ever get to the real thing.

 “Now Ben, Ben, Ben,” Damian said as he sat down and took a bite form his blob of chocolate, a mischievous tone hinting he intended to stir the pot a little, “Don’t be too hard on Yuri. After all, he’s still just a little kid.” Yuri huffed and stomped his feet hard again, “If I’m so little and dumb, how come I can read stuff waaayyyy better than him?” He pointed a stubby finger at Ben. That was true, Ben did struggle the most in Renault’s ‘Reading for Comprehension’ classes. “And you knew that Yuri would clap back with that you silly poop.” Mandy thought. Damian was smart as hell but couldn’t seem to stop causing trouble. Ben’s face turned beat red. “Sush guys.” Isabella interrupted before he could sound off. She usually played peace maker, but she didn’t have to think of anything of anything herself this time, “Two pork chops are headed this way.” She finished with a quick gesture to their right. The rest of the crew looked over and clocked two of the three C.L.S.S. patrollers stationed in the vicinity of Hassan’s Corner striding directly over.

“Hey you kids!” The larger of the two men bellowed, his visage partially obscured by his helmet’s visor. “You’re making too much of a ruckus! Time to move along.” The gang looked around in mild confusion. As far as other people were concerned, it was dead at Corner now. There were the two old guys sitting on the Sutton’s porch nursing their beers and playing chess, like they always did, and a young couple sitting on the other side of the snack shop that looked like they were meeting up after work, but that was about it.

“What ruckus? Whose complaining? And what do you mean ‘hey you kids’? You know us Purvis. We hang here all the time.” Damian stated, crossing his arms in a defiant gesture. “That’s Officer Purvis you mouthy little Duster punk! Don’t think for one second those red jackets will stop me from running the lot of you in!” Damian, Mandy and Ben sounded off in near unison, “Run us in? For what?” Purvis’s lower jaw trembled with anger, but it was his sidekick Jenkins that spoke next, addressing him. “Ah, we tried Ric. Forget these brats man. Let’s get back on the rounds.” Turning back quickly as he began to drag Purvis along with him, he added a quick, “Stay out of trouble you punks!” almost as a reflex. “What was up with that?” Isabella mused as the two Security Service patrols departed. “Are those two Wilber’s jumped up on HOP or something?”

******

“This could be leading us to far off target!” Pawn #1 broadcasted with irritation. The Grix sat in the small reception lounge, staring at the Info net broadcasts While it and Pawn #3 maintained a semi-conscious state within his mind. Just across at the reception desk, the robot Winston was partially slumped over with his back panel open. Inside Pawn #2 fiddled both with its portion of the whole’s mental powers, but also with its own little hands. “No, this is a great idea, really! I think I’ve almost got it!” It responded cheerfully to the other two thirds. The King had not requested either an upload or a direct connection in the time frame originally designated. But they had learned via Pawn #2’s now favorite broadcast, Laura the Lazerfist & the Adventures of the Crimson Brigade’, that no plan of battle survives first contact. So, the parts where not worried about the whole yet.

With the Grix still quite tired and the easy access to information Winston was able to provide, Pawn #2 had suggested a radical idea after they had begun to study schematics of all types, including various models of robots, downloaded earlier this morning from sites Winston had cautioned where “problematic from a legal standpoint”. The idea? Why not take control of a robot too? In certain parts of this land or planet, a concept they now understood, this place called Mars used robots for many things. Likely the House of X, this was an updated designation that the King would receive the next time an upload did occur, likely the House of X used at least some robots. “Once we figure it out, it’ll be perfect for espionage!”

Pawn #1 had objected, noting that #2 just liked using that new word ‘espionage’ as much as it could. This was true. But #3, more vocal than normal and even getting a little salty as the lack of recent direct connect meant its role of balance was increasingly based on non-current information, finally ruled that it was worthwhile to give it a shot at least. “Almost there… Hey you know what? This is a way older version of the Model C hospitality unit blueprints we studied, but ol’ Wiston here seems to be much better constructed than the newer ones. Why would that be?”

Just as #1 was snapping at him to hush up and stay on task, The Sutton Lodge’s door chime sounded, indicating someone had just entered the front entrance. “Close it up, quick.” Pawn #3 ordered, It and #1 jumped back into The Grix’s large handbag and re-centered his level of consciousness so they could see through his eyes. “Here goes nothing!” Pawn #2 thought, jumping into Winston’s torso and sliding into the tiny little seat with control gears they had constructed. The Robot’s back panel was then pulled telekinetically shut and ‘Winston’ jolted straight up just as four rather ragged looking individuals approached the counter. “Hey Robot!” tall, spindly fellow with a missing front tooth and wearing a worn-out old trench coat addressed ‘Winston’. “How much for a room?”

“Uhmm… Welcome to the Sutton Lodge gentlemen.” Pawn #2 activated Winston’s vocals, trying to remember how he had greeted the Grix but finding the exact words eluded him. It also did not have access to The Grix’s social knowledge, although during their investigations they had all come to the conclusion that his skills in that regard were highly limited anyway.  So, he defaulted to his favorite show, “How would Laura ’the Lazerfist’ Savana handle this?” Pawn #2 Thought. “One room? Sure thing Sugars, but what are you going to do for little ol’ me then?”

“Huh, wha???” Mr. Trench coat blinked, clearly confused. One of his companions, a beady eyed little weasel with a deep scar on his right cheek let out a rasping chuckle, “This piece of shit Bot’s more fried than we are! Let’s just get on with it then Tommy.” Noticing Grix staring at them, Little Weasel barked at ‘him’, “What do you think you’re looking at bug eyes!” Pawn #1 responded via the Grix in its direct manner before #3 could advise otherwise, “I am looking at four human males in-between the ages of 24 to 38 in a state of mediocre to poor health who are also all actively intoxicated on some form of opiate.” And this is why #2 is a necessary part of the whole, Pawn #3 noted to itself. It added a personal internal groan to the thought when #1 concluded with, “One variance I can note is the body odor of yourself and the male with red hair is substantially worse than your companions, whose own smells are worse than the median human to begin with.”

“Rur ooh.” Pawn #2’s concern reflected in Winston’s flashing eyes. Social interactions where still a bit confusing, but #2 was certain that as Laura’s valet Donny Scag would have put it, “We done fucked this shit up!” Little Weasel’s face had turned crimson, and the red head pulled a knife. “Tommy, would you listen to this fucking scav!” Little Weasel snarled as he pulled his own blade, “You look like you’re about three minutes removed from some rat hole in the Stretch and you’re already acting like some Yakuza Princess!” Tommy Trench coat just chuckled, much calmer appearing than his companions. “Now, now boys, I’m sure our friend here is just not from around here.”

“That is true. I am new, but I do have a task to focus on. You are wasting time that could be spent on that task.” Pawn #1 responded via The Grix. “Okay, you will shut the hell up, now!” Pawn #3’s saltiness achieved true irritation as he locked #1 out of further conversation. Trench coat just kept smiling his thin little grin. “Oh, I’m sorry that we’ve bothered you, your highness. I don’t want to waste any more of your precious time. Boys, why don’t we help the scavenger prince here get back on track?” He pulled out an ejector and that thin little grin spread a little wider as Little Weasel nodded and began to laugh. Red head and their last companion, a dead eyed youth with pale, clammy skin and wearing a large backpack each made a grab for one of the Grix’s arms “You need to make up time scav?” Little Weasel asked, “We’ve got somethin’ that will let you fly…”

*****

“There, try your shoulder movement now.” Calvin Jones closed the maintenance panel on Candy’s arm after the final adjustment. The green-haired cyborg tested her robotic arm’s rotator, finding everything was now realigned. “Nice Calvin! Thanks for the tune up. Settling by the end of the month is still good for you?” Candy inquired. The young brown skinned man, tall and a little lanky with glasses, smiled and nodded as he did a final visual inspection of his repairs. “No problem, I know you gals are always good for it. I’m still trying to wrap my head around your story though. You say this junkie was actually able to counter the power of your arm’s hydraulic system and not just move you using it, but lift you with his bare hands and bash you against a wall? A H.E.R.O. with a mutation like Big C’s could pull something like that off for certain, but some joe on the street shouldn’t have the strength.”

The Dusters had their own standard mechanic shop at Farthington Park, but when it came to cybernetics, Jones was the go-to genius in the Copper Lane underground. Born on Deimos in the Stryker Correctional Facility & Labor Camp, even the Warden of his district had recognized a child prodigy. Charles had done time with his father and via Kraken’s predecessor Vikulov had managed to bribe said warden to release the then 12-year-old. Formerly a red coat before opening this quasi-legal modification shop in the back of Miss Peng Bo’s Patch & Go Medical clinic, both Jones and Peng Bo, along with all of Hassan’s Corner in general, were considered protected persons and businesses.

“Yeah, it was fuckin odd.” Candy responded, “It was some sort of drug, but I ain’t seen any type of HOP ever do shit like that.” Most people would consider it more than just odd, but then again, the concept of batshit crazy was somewhat relative, especially when dealing with someone like the Dusters’ most feared enforcer. “It’s not HOP.” Peng Bo’s voice floated over from the entrance that separated the Patch & Go from his back shop. A petite woman of Chinese descent in her early 50’s, Bo had been born on the other side of the Titan gate in the Rigel system. Formerly a respected young Doctor heading a free clinic on Bringham’s Rest, she eventually ran afoul of both local politics and the Colonial Defense Forces on the troubled moon. Stripped of her ability to practice medicine anywhere within the Colonies of Rigel, she eventually ended up on this side of the gate, opening this small unregulated clinic and supplementing her income further by patching Duster bullet and energy bolt wounds and acting as their ‘family’ doctor in general. David, who had accompanied Candy for her ‘check-up’ while the rest had headed back to the Park, was standing beside her.

“I’ve treated a few overdoses of JP Hop already. Copper Hop pumps you up, gets you flying, lets you ignore pain, makes you feel like a million credits, but as you both are well aware, doesn’t give you super strength or keep you alive while your body burns. JP Hop is completely different. It mellows you the hell out. If someone takes too much, they might forget to pull their pants down when they need to take a dump, but that’s about it if you don’t do it all at once. From what I’ve been able to analyze from the surviving samples you brought I can tell you it is a Hop adjacent opiate. But there’s another manufactured chemical trace I can’t identify that’s laced with high end nano tech. I can tell you that the nano tech spreads the effects of this chemical throughout the body nearly instantaneously. Also, based on the analysis, taking this stuff long term is suicide. Regular use will burn a body out in a four to five months tops, no flame thrower required.”

“High end nano tech?” David mused, “I bet the HOP Heads can’t even spell ‘nano’. Where would they get this shit from?” Candy slid off Calvin’s work couch with a shrug, “Something for Kraken and Bob to figure out. Uh Doc, do you have that info…” Peng handed Candy a small pad and finished her thought, “The details are written here for them to review.” Candy grabbed the pad, “Thanks Doc. Daveo, why don’t you hit up Claude’s like Bob suggested. See if he’s got any extra frags and such under the counter, just in case.” Claude Pecheur owned the ‘Reused & Retooled’ pawn shop next door and was another long-time ally of the Dusters. David nodded and added, “Yeah, it might be worth asking him if the Heads came by looking for weapons and shit too.”

David gave Calvin and Peng a warm nod and headed out. “Hey Doc,” Candy asked, “Calvin’s got my arm set, but my head is still killin’ me. Got anything to help with that that won’t turn me into a junkie, make me shit my pants or blow me up?” Both Bo and Calvin couldn’t help but chuckle as the Doc responded. “Yes, I think I can help with that Candy.”

*****

“Well, well, well! Look who’s up to no good.” David spotted the youngsters sitting at the benches as he exited the clinic and headed over, his tone clearly hinting at amusement rather than any disappointment. “Ugh, kids, you really like that stuff? Didn’t Skids tell you? It’ll literally rot your guts.”  Yuri just shrugged and took another bite of his chocolate flavored blob, “Heck David, everything at the Stank Shop will rot the guts.” The kid was not wrong about that, the brown coat conceded. “David!” Mandy jumped in anxiously, “Is your assignment done? Is everyone okay?” David calmed her with a nod, “Everyone’s good kid. Things got a little… heated for a moment. Your sister’s arm just got twisted up a little while things were getting sorted, so we were just getting it tuned up. I got to see old man Pecheur on some quick business, but we’re headed back to the Park afterwards if you all want to tag along.”

“Sounds good!” Mandy sprang up excitedly, “Hey Isabella, let’s go see how Candy’s doing while…” Her train of thought died mid-sentence as she noticed three rough looking characters approaching the Patch & Go entrance, chortling and cackling as they went through the front door. These were definitely not regular customers. David spotted them too. “Okay gang.” He said, one hand slipping into his duster towards his holstered pistol, “I want all of you inside Claude’s now, no fuss! Tell him we may have…” A deafening blast drowned everything out as half of the Sutton Lodge’s front face exploded outwards in a shower of fire and shrapnel.

*****

“Knock, knock Miss Doc.” This came from a rail thin woman with a feverish grin and a blue spike of hair that stood higher than ol’ Canuck’s mohawk by several inches. Peng Bo had just slid the door to Calvin’s shop shut after giving Candy a standard pain killer for her head. “Hello, how can I assist you… folks this afternoon.” Over the years she had dealt with many shady and even dangerous clients since moving to Mars. Between that and her experiences working in the Militarized Zone on Bringham’ s Rest, Peng Bo could almost always taste it when violence was in the air. Keeping what she hoped was a calm demeanor, she leaned on Calvin’s door for a hot second, opening it a crack and secretly praying that would be enough for any sound to carry and moved towards the shop counter. Towards the counter and the hidden pistol stashed there.

“Assistance, yeah that’s right Doc. We need some assistance.” Ms. Blue Spike laughed. One of her companions, a stocky young man with a big belly moved to block her progress to the counter. Titans & spirits. I’m too late!  Her mind screamed. “That’s right lady,” big belly leered, “We need ya to give a message to your buds the Dusters from Micah and da rest of Cutter’s Row!” A knife flashed in his hand, and she yelled for help as he plunged it into her stomach.

“What’s with all the fuckin ruckus…” the back door slid open, and Candy poked her head out, shock at the scene transforming to anger almost instantaneously. “It’s the Green Bitch!” Blue Spike’s other male companion yelped in genuine fear, “She ain’t supposed to be here!” Then, the explosion at the Sutton went off, shaking the Patch & Go and causing an instant of distraction. That instant was more than enough for ‘the Green Bitch’. Her blade attachment deployed effortlessly as she whipped her arm up and to the right, cutting cleanly through Big Belly’s second chin and opening his throat in a rush of gore. The other fellow fumbled for his firearm but two cracks from an old-style gun sounded from directly behind Candy. One bullet struck his shoulder but the other went straight into his left eye, ending him then and there. Calvin, smoking pistol still in hand, rushed to Peng Bo’s side as Candy stalked Blue Spike. “She’s still breathing! Hang in there Peng.” The young cyberneticist scrambled to stanch her bleeding as the Doc let out a low moan.

“I ain’t afraid! You hear me? I ain’t afraid of you Miss Boogeyman bitch!” Blue Spike sputtered, her tone far less confident sounding than her words. “Sure, you’re not scared at all little junkie rat. I guess that must be just piss I smell, not fear.” Blue edged towards the clinic’s front door while pulling an injector out and jabbing it into her neck. “All that shit is gonna do is let me fuckin’ kill you slower!” Candy roared and lunged forward, using her arm as a cross check. The momentum of her charge sent them both smashing through the clinic door and onto the ground at its front entrance. Meanwhile, as Calvin struggled to stabilize Peng Bo, the sounds, shouts and screams of fresh hell from all over Hassan’s Corner began to filter through the broken door.

******

“Release me!” The Grix’s own voice instinctively bellowed as the two HOP Heads pinned him down. “Gentlemen,” Pawn #2 tried desperately to sort through Winston’s hospitality protocols after their own failed attempt at communication, “Here at the Sutton Lodge we have specific policies against guests manhandling each other. Please respect others personal boundaries while on the premises or I will need to ask you to leave.” Tommy Trench coat just replied with his thin smile before reaching over and removing the Grix’s large handbag from his shoulders.  “That’s ours!” The pinned scav struggled even more furiously.  Tommy then violently jabbed the full three doses of his injector into the Grix’s neck.

“See here…” Winston started, but Tommy merely pulled off his trench coat, revealing and old style shot gun underneath, and tossed it over the Robot’s head, obscuring its optics. He then bashed the still behind the counter bot twice with the but end of the shotgun, knocking the unit flat on its back. “I thought that broken piece of shit would never shut up!” Little Weasel cackled evilly. Grix began to shake violently, and froth began to form around his lips. In a sad irony, the few seconds between when they shot him up and now as the nano tech finished dispersing the massive overdose into his system was the first time in weeks the poor wretch had control of his own thoughts.

“Better suit up boys before he overtakes you.” Tommy reloaded the injector and gave each of his fellows one dose. Even then Red Head and Dead Eye struggled to keep Grix pinned as he began to spit a sputter in an incoherent rage, the irises of his eyes so large they practically glowed. “Fat Ass and the rest ought to be at the clinic by now Tommy.” Little Weasel was almost bouncing as hard as Grix. Opening Dead Eye’s backpack, the clinking of a few pre prepped Molotov cocktails could be heard, but what Weasel first pulled out was a small but well packed satchel of C4 along with detonator. Tommy nodded, “Yeah. Time to kick it off!”

Running over to the Sutton’s front door as a near constant chuckle began to sound from Little Weasel now, he hung the satchel on the handle and retreated back to reception. “Show time!” Weasel shouted triumphantly as he pressed detonator. still laughing manically. A deafening blast drowned the laughter out as half of the Sutton Lodge’s front face exploded outwards in a shower of fire and shrapnel. Heat and bits of metal and wood blew back into reception as well and the scream of one of the old chess players as he caught fire could suddenly be picked up through the carnage. “Release the hound boys!” Tommy yelled as he wiped a bit of soot and blood from a cut caused by flying debris off his face. Combining their now own drug enhanced strength in one herculean effort, Red Head and dead eye lifted the maddened scav and hurled him through the now weakened reception area wall, sending him sprawling onto the street near Johnny Scar’s Snack Stop. “Try not to have too much fun now boys!” Tommy waved as the other three eagerly climbed through the opening they just made to wreak more havoc on Hassan’s Corner, Little Weasel still laughing with knife in hand.

“Let the crew party. Time to do a little looting before this place burns.” Tommy thought, noticeably, a lot more sober now that he was alone than he had let on when the others were around. Micah had privately warned him and a couple of others to never take any of the X- HOP themselves. Once they had dealt with the Dusters, he’d be a top lieutenant in Copper Lane’s new preeminent bad asses. “Let’s start with that scav’s bag.”  He just remembered he was still holding on to it. He flipped it open and reached in with his right hand while he also scanned the counter for anything worth a few credits.

“Owww!” Tommy screeched, pulling back his now bloody hand and dropping the bag. “Something just fucking bit me!” Before he could even think to act further, a metal hand, thin but still surprisingly strong grabbed the HOP Head by a handful of his thinning hair and yanked him backwards while another metal hand attached to a right arm also shot out and snatched the shotgun from the startled gang bangers grip. Tommy yelled and struggled fruitlessly as the model ‘C’ hospitality unit bent him backward and pulled him on top of the counter. Staring down at him as it continued to keep the back of his skull in a vice grip, half the bot’s face shield and one of its ‘eyes’ had been shattered by his earlier whacks. Exposed circuits hissed and lubricating fluid dripped down onto Tommy’s face not unlike blood might from an exposed wound. “If this is the way you want it ya no good punk, all right then!” The bot stated in that odd tone it had first used to greet them, “Don’t say you didn’t have this coming sugar!” Winston raised the arm with the shot gun and brought the butt end of it down sharply three times, the first shot removing the rest of Tommy’s teeth. The second broke his nose. The final shot crushed his skull, ending the dream of big time lieutenantship before it could ever begin.

******

The old man howled as he caught fire and David caught the scent of burnt flesh as he tried to center himself after the explosion. Suddenly a human form came sailing out of the Sutton as though tossed by some great hand and crashed about 25 meters in front of him and the kids near the Snack shop ordering window. Rather than lay sprawled out in pain as one might expect after such a devastating collision with the ground, the figure instead shot straight back up with a feral howl. Spotting David and the youngsters, the man surged towards them with the same mindless rage David recognized from the alley earlier today. “Shit!” He pulled his pistol and began to fire energy bolts at the rushing figure. “Get behind me kids!” In the chaos he didn’t hear the secondary shattering of glass, wood and steel as Candy and her opponent crashed through the Patch & Go’s front door, but Isabella spotted it, “Look, your sister!” she grabbed Mandy and pointed.

Meanwhile, as the second chess player frantically tried to pat his burning friend out, Little Weasel popped up behind the poor bugger and ran his knife over his throat with such force that he nearly severed the older man’s head from his torso. “Game over old guys!” He said while still constantly cackling. On the flip side, with barely a sound or change in expression at all, Dead eye pulled a Molotov from his backpack and tossed it at the unfortunate couple who had just been looking for a quiet place to meet up after work. They screamed as the fire engulfed them, flailing in painful death as Candy struggled with Blue Spike on the ground nearby.

Mandy and Isabella also watched the couple’s fate in shocked horror. Out of the corner of her eye, Isabella saw three figures in C.L.S.S. gear approaching at distance. The patrollers! The young girl thought, waving instinctively in their direction. Whether they saw the gesture or not, they clearly saw the chaos unfolding before them. Instead of rushing in they hung back in the shadows.

“Ah, we tried Ric. Forget these brats man…”  Jenkins words came back like a slap in the face as young Isabella realized why that earlier interaction had seemed so weird. “They knew this was going to happen.” Understanding dawned, “Those swine knew!” Before another thought could register the charging form of Grix had reached her and Mandy. “Move kids, move!” David shoved them aside and the last second.

******

As she tried to pin Blue Spike to the ground, Candy felt the other’s drug fueled strength fully kicking in as she gripped the Dusters’ cyborg arm and flipped them over so that she was now on top. “I ain’t afraid of you bitch!” Blue stated again, but with actual confidence this time. Rather than fight the other women’s chemical fueled strength and wreck Calvin’s repairs, Candy didn’t really resist as the other woman flipped them over. Reaching into one of her pockets with her still human right hand she fished for her favorite low-tech solution to an up close and personal problem. “Let’s see how much uglier you can get little junkie whore!” She smiled in a way that, despite her now being on top, dissolved Blue Spike’s newfound optimism instantly. A fist whipped out of the pocket wrapped around a nasty set of brass knuckles and launched a series of three rapid strikes from a practiced brawler. Blue’s nose bent, her jaw cracked, her eyes watered and her grip loosened. Only then Candy used the hydraulic driven power of her cyborg arm to push the HOP head off her. That ever-deadly bayonet sprouted in an instant as Candy rose to her knees and swung, severing Spike’s right leg just below the knee completely from her body. Despite the drugs, Blue Spike screamed as she fell, “You’re going to beg whore! Fuckin’ beg and beg before the end!” the green headed twin roared. But as she stood, out of the corner of her eye, the rest of the carnage unfolding at Hassan’s Corner caught her attention.

******

David plugged the charging form twice in the guts and once in the knee, but it barely slowed him. Mandy and Isabella seemed to be frozen, staring at the unfortunate burning couple whose screams David couldn’t even register with all that was going on. “Move kids, move!” he pushed them aside at the last moment as the slobbering mad form closed the distance. He tried to score one more shot, but the snarling man beast batted the gun out of his hand and landed a backhanded swipe along his rib cage, breaking two of them at least and sending him staggering back a few meters.

Damien and Ben, understandably stunned by the horror unfolding, found their voices again. “Come on!” Ben grabbed the utterly confused and scared Yuri by the arm while shouting to the others, “Into the pawn shop! Let’s go!” Damien didn’t shout but rushed over and grabbed David’s fallen pistol. Firing off three shots, one missing but two more striking what should have been killing blows but weren’t, he staggered the insane attacker for a second. “He’s hurt David!” Through all the chaos Mandy registered that one clear thought and she instinctively gestured at their attacker with a flick of her hand upwards. The broken, insane, drug fueled mess that was once Elden Grix flew up, up and up at such a speed that it almost looked like he had just vanished.

Through gritted teeth and ample pain, David saw the twin’s younger sister launch their crazed attacker. “Good shit kid!” He thought. He heard the hum of another blaster shot as young Damien used his gun to fire at another little weaselly form that had crept up on them. A shoulder strike that would have normally crippled most people barely slowed Little Weasel. He reached out to Damien, grabbing the Energy bolt pistol and crushing the barrel in his hand while shaking it up and down violently, sending the boy sprawling.

  As Damien fell, Little Weasel surged over with unnatural speed and grabbed both Mandy and Isabella by the scruffs of their necks. Sheer terror overrode any other thought or action as the scared face’s foul breath washed over them and its drug fueled beady little eyes leered with horrible purpose. “Oh, I think I’m goanna save you two for later. Then ol’ Tommy and me will show you little red girls how real men party!” A sharp THUD sounded as a solid blackjack struck the back of Little Weasel’s skull, watering his eyes and forcing him to drop the girls. David, who had staggered to his feet holding his side in clear pain, swung his pocket club again, nailing the HOP Head in his collar bone and turning the sick little prick’s laughter into a howl of pain. “Run girls, run!” he panted through the agony of his busted ribs.

Weasel snarled and whipped his knife around, David barely managing to avoid it by ducking under the swing. He brought the hand holding his side up and with all his remaining might landed a sharp counter punch. One that broke Little Weasel’s nose and might have ended the fight on another day. Instead, now that he was ready for David, the hopped-up maniac didn’t flinch back as his nose splattered but pushed forward and drove his blade deep into David’s stomach. He then lifted the brown coat off his feet with the knife hand while his other pulled out an injector. “Good fighting brown.” The little monster wheezed through his shattered face as he shot himself up again, “Time for a pick me up I thinks.” David landed a final feeble blow as the blackjack slipped from his hand and the life drained from his body and followed it by defiantly spitting a huge glob of blood and saliva in his killer’s face. “Run girls, ru…” The worlds trailed as Mandy and Isabella watched the flicker leave his eyes.

******

“…Move kids, move!” Candy thought she heard David say as she rose back to her feet and spotted him with a bunch of red coat youngsters through the smoke, smell and final dying shrieks of the burning couple. They would normally be a horrific sight to even the most hardened soul, but Candy’s mind just quickly cataloged it as a fire she didn’t start. As Blue Spike rolled around in agony, blood spurting from the severed stump of her right leg, Candy spotted a red headed dude charging her with a large knife and some other punk behind him about to lob another Molotov, this time in her direction.

 Aware now she would struggle to match these junkies’ chemical induced speed, she kicked a smoldering round object at her feet that might actually have been one of the deceased couple’s skulls directly at Dead eye while feigning a charge to meet Read Head. The object struck dead eye directly in the face and he stumbled back, dropping the cocktail in his hand just before he could light it. It didn’t break when it hit the ground and rolled for a few meters before coming to a stop. Meanwhile, Candy’s false charge ended as she juked immediately to the left, Red Head’s own rushing momentum making him blow straight past her and he then stumbled and slipped as he tried to slow his raging body and course correct.

Rather than focus on him, Candy shot a stream of flame directly at dead eye. “If he’s got more of those booze bombs on his back…” Candy barely finished the thought as the remaining two Molotovs ignited while she burnt the punk. The resulting fire ball practically incinerated the HOP head, no last drug fueled charge here. It was so hot that it even singed Blue Spike’s, Red Head’s and Candy’s hair and clothing a little. The ‘boogyman bitch’ didn’t even really notice. Hell, fire might still be able to kill her, but it could never really hurt her. Not anymore.

As Red Head pushed himself back on his feet, Candy lit him up too with a gout of flame. He roared in agony, but that mad drug kept him moving. Rather than face him head on and suffer a possible repeat of what occurred in the alley, as he lashed out Candy ducked low and did what any woman fighting a stronger aggressive male ought to do. Still wearing her brass knucks, she pilled the bastard as hard as she could. Super drug or no, the still burning red head screeched and fell back to his knees. Then that lethal blade driven by cyborg power reappeared, stabbing through blistering flesh directly into a kidney, then pulling through at a jagged angle for maximum exit damage before whipping up and being run across red head’s throat. What was left still lived for another ninety seconds but could do nothing but smolder, gurgle and flop around a little.

Candy looked over to where she saw the others just as she heard a girl scream, probably one of the youngsters. Some little bastard had David hoisted in the air, running him through, and one of the kids looked like… “Mandy! Sis!” She yelled, charging forward and going… nowhere as a vice like grip clasped on to the back of her duster and hurled her backwards ten meters or so. Tossing her now empty injector aside, Blue Spike hopped up on down on one leg while the bloody stump where the other one once was continued to leak. “Notafraidbitch, notafraidbitch, notafraidbitch,” the over juiced madwoman stalked forward.

*****

“What has happened?” Pawn #1 mentally bellowed, “The Grix is unreadable, we have lost the mind link.”  Winston absently shoved Tommy’s corpse off the counter while Pawn #2 noted, “The fire is spreading, Also, turns out the handbag may not have been that good of an idea after all...” Pawn #1 cut in with blunt agreement, “Yes, we must leave immediately. Put that jacket on the Winston and then pocket us.”  The robot bent down and picked up the satchel, retrieving the other two parts of the whole. All of them noted the “worse than the median human smell” Pawn #1 had observed was very present on the old trenchcoat as well. “We should take any money too, yes?” Pawn #2 suggested. “Yes,” #3 jumped in to move things along, “Take any credits from the satchel, the counter and our deceased attacker. Bring the firearm as well and look for any extra ammo on the body.”

A few minutes later a trench coat wearing hospitality bot with an old style shot gun snuck through one of the gaping burning holes in the Sutton’s front wall and caught a full view of the ongoing chaos at Hassan’s Corner. “Wow!” Was all Pawn #2 could think as they watched dead eye get lit up by some crazed green hair and practically explode, “I do not think we want to meet her. It is time to keep moving! Orientation and direction discussions can follow once we are out of here.” Pawn #1 broadcast. No argument needed to be mediated in this case as Winston began to head for a side street, the three of the whole noting the young cyborg had turned her attention to the Red Head and was in the process of burning then literally slicing and dicing him.

As they backed away carefully, Winston’s optics spotted three figures huddled in the shadows. The youngest man seemed to be arguing with two older ones. “They’re dressed like the local fuzz.” Pawn #2 noted in his TV tone. Suddenly the largest of the three glanced over and spotted the bot. “Hey Robot!” He hissed in a loud whisper. “What are you doing? Get over here now.” Pawns #1 & 2 both had the same thought flow, “Forget that! Keep moving now!”

The shot gun whipped up in Winston’s hand, nailing the large security officer in the stomach with a nasty double-barreled buck shot blast. it was too far away to shred his armored vest, but still powerful enough to knock him flat on his back and leave him gasping for air. The hospitality unit then charged forward, trench coat waving in the light breeze as it sped directly at the other two patrollers while they tried to get a bead on the robot with their rifles. Winston shoulder tackled the younger man, laying him prone as well. Batting the rifle out of the hand of the remaining standing officer at the last second, Winston swung his shotgun like an axe handle, smashing the but end across the guy’s helmet and rendering him senseless for at least a few minutes.

The Pawns did not pause for even one second further and sprinted past the groaning prone figures. With the madness that currently engulfed the Corner reaching its zenith, no one else registered the genuinely bizarre sight of a busted-up Model C Hospitality Unit wearing a trench coat and toting a shotgun running full tilt until it turned and vanished down a side alley.

*****

It had been a slower week at The Reused & Retooled Pawn shop. Really it had been a slower week so far for pretty much every business at Hassan’s Corner.  Claude Pechuer was originally from Port Ahuna Mons in the Asteroid belt but had lived on Mars for well over a quarter century now and had run this shop for most of that time. In his early sixties, Pecheur had been there, done that and bought a lot of the tee shirts at this stage.

There had been something in the air the last few days. He chatted about it with Peng Bo and Calvin yesterday and they had noticed too. Most of the locals of Copper Lane had become attuned to shifts in the undercurrents on their streets. It was a shared survival instinct, like collectively scenting the same bad taste on the wind. Something they could sometimes sense before the local gangs, or that biggest of gangs called government, knew they themselves were going to cause any trouble. During such times, most reasonable Laner’s stuck close to home and the Corner’s usual foot traffic dried up, as had most other business in this area of Copper Lane other than a couple smoke laden dive bars whose regulars practically lived there anyway.

Always a glass half full type of guy, Claude had figured if the afternoon was going to be completely dead, he might as well have Bea over for a little late afternoon delight. An experienced Dover Alley working girl in her late forties, Beatrice C. had long enjoyed the friendship and patronship of Pechuer. Claude for his part had no desire to pursue or pay for young women, loving both Bea’s practiced skill in her arts and her quick wit and intelligence in conversation. It was during one of her legendary afternoon hummers, precisely when the old pawn broker was about to climax, that half of the front end of the Sutton Lodge exploded outwards.

“Wha!” Beatrice startled, jumped back and stood up to look out the shop’s small front window. Claude, beyond the point of return, moaned as he finished all over the top of his desk. Simultaneously contented and angry at the mess, but most worried about the loud sounds from outside, Pechuer hurriedly struggled to pull his pants up and stand. “Oh my god Claude! All hell is breaking out! And there are kids out there too.” Beatrice exclaimed. Shouts and screams began to pick up in earnest. Claude also heard bolts from an energy weapon discharge and could taste a hint of cooking meat too. “Mon Dieu!” he thought.  

Punching in the three-digit code to activate the two remote controlled turrets that guarded the front counter of the shop, Claude also reached under that counter and pulled a laser scatter blaster out, pumping it twice quickly for a near maximum charge. He headed to the front door, gesturing at Bea to remain.  She just shook her head and grabbed one of his solid wooden bats, determined to join him.  “Just be careful Claude!” Beatrice whispered, standing at the ready behind him.

Pulling the door open and sticking his head out cautiously, Claude’s nose practically bumped into the fleeing Ben’s forehead as he dragged Yuri behind him. “Come quick boys, get inside.” Bea, a mother herself, practically pushed Claude out on the front step as a protective instinct took hold and she reached around to help Ben yank Yuri inside. A cry of “Sacre de bleu!” sounded from Claude as he witnessed the Duster lad David die hoisted on some psychopath’s blade.

He also recognized the faces of the kids as some of the young red coats that hung out at the Corner often. Seeing the Sutton burning and hearing some struggle happening near the Clinic as well, Claude planted himself directly between the horrific sight and the two terrified young girls. The Reused & Retooled Pawn shop might not look like much to some corpo big wig, but he had built it himself and fully owned it. No freaks were going to burn down the center of this man’s small universe without a fight.

Casually casting the fallen brown coat aside, Little Weasel sneered at Claude and then leered at the two youngsters as he cackled through a broken face, “So you ladies do like the older guys. You’re gonna love me and Tommy then.” Claude pumped the scatter blaster one more time for good measure, “Prends ça, espèce de chien pervers!” Both barrels cut loose with a short range, but wide radius energy blast that carved into little weasel’s chest and knocked the drugged-up fiend back a few meters. The lasers had peeled away the clothing and most of the skin of his torso, exposing rib bone in some spots. “NotssSS enoughs frenchie.” A crazed whisper hissed as a now damaged hand ejected its ruined body with the last two doses of poison death and stumbled forward again, still cackling somehow. “Merde!” Claude shouted, not believing what he was seeing.

At the same time, Beatrice pushed the two boys further into the shop and handed Ben the bat while gesturing for him to stay. She heard Pechuer yell something as he fired his weapon but was more focused on the prone form of Damian. Checking and confirming the lad still had a pulse, Bea drew on all the strength her slight form could muster and began to drag the unconscious boy to the shop entrance. “Girls! Follow me.” She also yelled at the remaining two, hoping to snap them out of the spell of pure terror that held them frozen. As if someone had finally doused her with a cold bucket of water, Isabella acted first. “Come on Mandy!” she screamed as she rushed over to help Beatrice with Damian. Mandy took a step back in that direction but couldn’t tear her eyes away from Claude and the little monster that was pushing forward again.   

“When in doubt, aim for the knees.” An old piece of advice from a belter Task Force Spartan officer cut through the disbelief and confusion that threatened to paralyze Claude. He pumped twice and aimed lower this time as while the freak lurched even closer. The corresponding laser spreads blew anything under Little Weasel’s knees apart and what was left of him face planted in front of Pechuer. “Noos enoughsss.” The hideous face snapped up, still laughing as whatever was left of Little Weasel began to pull itself forward with its arms. Now Claude was indeed stunned into inaction.

Mandy took another step back while still facing front. “Focus, then will it.”  She tried to settle her mind with techniques from books Kraken had introduced. A small gesture and the nearly 350 Kilogram metal sign on top of the Snack Shop lifted off and was crushed into a large cube shape. A controlled inhale and exhale of breath and the makeshift cube was slammed with incredible force on top of Little Weasel. It rose once and then smashed down again one more time. The sick chittering and cackling went silent as one exposed arm undeath the metal chunk twitched for about two seconds before going limp, finally signaling the end of one small nightmare at least.

******

Standing back up, Candy almost laughed out loud at the sight of her opponent jumping up and down, “The little bitch is literally hopping mad.” She chuckled inwardly. She put her amusement on hold when Blue Spike suddenly scooped up the smoldering wreck of the table the doomed couple had been sitting at and hurled directly at her. She brought the big arm up in time to block the worst of it, but the impact still slammed her back on the ground and knocked the wind out of her. Somehow the one-legged Blue Spike was still on top of her in flash, straddling her cyborg arm and using her drug fueled super strength to keep Candy pinned. She swayed while softly singing “I am not afraid bitch, not afraid, not afraid,” the face that stared down at the Duster with an earie smile seemed only half aware of, well, anything. However, her right hand still began to target Candy’s neck.

When individuals compared the twins one key factor was often overlooked in what was usually a gossip laden thought exercise between two bord brown coats on guard duty somewhere. They missed the difference between rashness and impulsiveness. Bambi was impulsive. This meant, among other things, she could act too rashly or too violently sometimes. Candy was rash and she was violent, but she was never impulsive. Her mind, as it worked for her, could always stay focused. Likewise, life experience and training didn’t help her fight panic like it did for her sister. She just didn’t feel it anymore at all.

The green enforcer simply returned the madwoman’s grin and lashed out with two rapid shots to the side of her foe’s head with the brass knucks. This was only done to distract Spike from clamping down on her throat. While landing the punches, Candy also twisted her left shoulder slightly. There was a hiss of seals releasing as her special arm detached at the shoulder blade and Candy rolled away and staggered back to her feet. Blue Spike couldn’t seem to gage what exactly happened but stopped humming her song and hopped back to her feet, well to her foot anyway, staring stupidly at the detached cyborg appendage she was now holding in her hands.

Candy, spotting the knife the red head never had a chance to use on her near his smoking remains, shot forward. However, now aware of how fast even a one-legged junkie could be on multiple doses of this stuff, when Blue Spike inevitably surged to catch up while trying to brain the Duster with her own arm, Candy just took a quick step back and to the right. Bounding past her target, Blue Spike tried to slow while Candy put to the test her theory that the surprising speed on the one-legged lady did not equal surprising balance. It was a successful test.

Blue Spike couldn’t spin around to face her fast enough and the emerald Duster was easily able to kick the one foot she was hopping up and down on out from under her, sending Spike sprawling face first into the ground and Candy’s arm clattering a few meters away. The cyborg was already scoping up red’s knife and just as Blue was pushing herself back up Candy ran the blade across the ankle tendons of the HOP Head’s one good foot, severing most and flopping Spike back on the ground as that foot now ceased to function as well.

The scene playing out was now eerily similar to what was simultaneously occurring outside Claude’s at this moment, but instead of the horror of the relentlessness and savage evil of Little Weasel’s last moments, Blue Spike looked pathetic, sad even as she flopped around and started humming her little tune again. Candy pulled a pack of Danny Snakes out of a pocket along with a lighter and lit one. She rarely indulged for health reasons but always enjoyed one after a good fight. “Look at us junkie. The one-armed gal and the no legged bitch,” the enforcer chuckled. Spotting a glint of glass that belonged to that fallen Molotov, she walked over and scooped it up, lighting the rag with her smoke. “Well, I guess you’ve had a rough one for sure honey. Here, have a fuckin’ drink on me.”

*****

A couple enjoying some high-altitude paragliding from Olympus Mons thought they spotted a strange dark dot shooting straight up at a rapid clip. The two auto activated repair drones fixing the small hole said object caused as it smashed through the upper dome recorded that the damage was done by a human sized organic object that continued accelerating upwards.

Out on the Mounds of Rust, the dead eyes of Mr. Real Skull reflected that climbing black dot for a second as well. Would his ghost be a little jealous? After all, Charles had mentioned lower orbit as he was dispatching him, but the head goon had only flown up a couple kilometers tops before he had come crashing back down.

Meanwhile, two months from now a prison transfer barge will discover the almost intact body of some Stretch looking scav floating in a decaying orbit around Deimos. Grix’s postmortem fame will last the classic 15 minutes. The highlight being a well-produced segment on the strange discovery from an episode of Celebu Sleaze’s popular “Bizarre Mysteries of the Three Realms” show.