Stir Fried

"Fucking augmented cunt." Lex paused long enough to let her bleed. "Tell me where the fuck he is, and you live. How do you not understand this?" A solid crack echoed against the room's barren walls. It was small, this hovel. This piece of shit. Lex could barely stand it. The white-washed, institutional furnishing, the straight, orderly disposition of possessions. All of it had gone up when the bounty hunter came crashing in. The front door was blown in, riddled with bullets and dents. This was taking too long. And the whimpering was like thunder in her ears. Pathetic bitch.

Most of her face was bruised. The other bits were covered in blood. For a moment, just a moment, Lex almost felt sorry for the woman. Almost.

"You are fucking useless." The hunter grunted. She kicked the weeping woman and let her fall to the ground, her sobs doing no less to spur an ever growing headache. How many days had it been so far? That Kanaaj had lead her all the way to Pataevum, and all for a low-level bounty. The reward was barely enough to make all the repairs to the Space Bitch. Yet here she was. The grand soldier. The money-grubbing, hell-raising, merciless whore of the Roshoqan. Fantastic. She spat at the thought of it all.

She sat. There, beside her latest victim, Lex lowered herself to the floor and set her knees against her chest. Her gaze rested on the poor soul she had tortured. Still crying. Still begging. Lex grunted and removed one of her pistols from its holster. It was a lightweight weapon, a modified design stolen from the Mutatis Militari. Short barreled, heavy on the grip, it was perfect for close range fire. The magazine held no less than twenty high-impact rounds, perhaps soon to be less a shot or two.

"Five in the chest," She started, her voice low and dark. Lex spoke with a gentle rasp and a harsh, hard tone. Her words were clear, if mired in drama. "One in the head. That's how they teach you. Guarantees your target doesn't stand back up." Another pause. Lex reached out and gingerly placed her hand on the woman's head, stroking her long, blond hair with the greatest of care. The muzzle of the gun followed, set firmly against the temple.

"But at this range, all I need is one shot to end your miserable fucking existence. Now, tell me where the fuck that alien freak is."


The whir of the Space Bitch's repulsor engines announced her arrival. A junker if ever there was one, the personal transport craft was shoddily armed and held together by nothing more than the will of the universe. Or rather, Lex herself. The docks here did not seem to mind. Among the destitute and forlorn, the ship and her captain fit right in.

No one was there to greet her. No supply crews, no grand welcome, just the dock rats and endless skyline. Lex hopped down from the boarding ramp and turned to give her vessel a cursory inspection. And was she ugly. The half-rectangular body was scarred and scorched from misuse, the wings half ripped from their station by a more combative lifestyle. Somehow, the girl was still in one piece. Maybe after this she could at least get tune-up. For now, work.

The ass end of the city. The slums, the outskirts, whatever you wanted to call them, it was a good place to hide. Here among the excess of technology and the naturally dark interior. Causeways stretched for miles on end, all linked in some way, all just within reach of the myriad of repulsor rails that made a generous contribution to the city's interior. Even now Lex could hear it. The ever-present hum of engines, the constant ticking of technology. And here it was worse than ever. The lack of silence could throw a hunter off the scent, it would take weeks to track anyone down here. Better than to already know where your target was.

Lex slid into one of the inner corridors. It was tight here, close, with little room to run. She followed the trails of electronics and exposed wiring, ignoring the queer looks and frightened expressions at the Roshoqan-styled armor. And there it was. At the end of the trail, besmirched by the cyborg dolling fanatics, the bar the little bird had sung just before her death. Lex grunted and pushed pass the crowd outside, stepping in with a keen, focused glare.

"A tad more distilled."

There was a clanking of glass, a cacophony of voices, staunch heat, the stench of nicotine clawing at his throat. But it didn't matter, none of it ever did. He was there to pass the time, meld in with the crowd, avoid prying eyes and unnecessary inquiries. Here, he was someone other than 'that alien prick', and that suited him better than another bullet grazing his temple like an angry bitch's caress.

The glass slid back into his hand. He lifted it up, took a sip.

Disgusting.

"Mmm, that's some mighty delicious cider."

"That's whisky."

"Right. You know what, it was atrocious. How about something less toxic... like that?"

"That's absinthe."

"Ahuh... Can I try some?"

The barkeep quirked a bushy black brow.

"You looking to poison yourself, lizard? I know one of your types when you come waltzing."

Cithe leaned back in surprise. Fuck. "And what makes you think I'm one of those... vile, abhorrent, absolutely monstrous animals?" He chanced a glance behind him, only to find the patrons immersed in their own alcohol-induced bubbles. He turned his head at the sound of a chuckle.

"You needn't fear much from me, stranger. There's plenty of your kind comes down for little things. Provisions, news, a drink or two. That clever disguise o' yours won't fool someone the likes that knows a Vigilante simply from your accents, your mannerisms. Here, you be safe, at least for as long as the patrol don't come snoopin' in."

Cithe forced a smile, "First good news I've heard all day. Might I trouble you, then, for something on your menu that doesn't contain sugar? Toxic, and all that."

"I'll go see if I got some fish in the back." The large man lumbered off, and Cithe was left gazing idly at the flickering neon lights above the counter.

Sweet Cyber Bar. What a raunchous name for a raunchous place. He glanced behind him, catching a glimpse of a scantily clad cyborg lady driving her augmented ass into the lap of a portly old man.

The door beside them creaked open, and a woman stepped through. Something stirred in the back of his mind. Something familiar, something malicious. He narrowed his eyes, peering closer.

Well fuck me. Immediately he turned around, clutching his glass as if it was the lifeline that held him down. He should have listened to Tristen. She'd spoken of a bounty hunter on his tail, even shown her a photo of the cunt, bitchy face and all. But he'd passed it off with a shrug, promising her that he was "hard to find." Bullshit. All you needed was a promise of rare and unique recipes and he was at your doorstep. Fuck cooking. It always brought trouble.

No one paid her any mind. Why should they? The armor, maybe. And the weaponry. Still. No one noticed. The music pounded against her ears, further incensing her already blistering headache. Her hands clenched into fists. Surrounded by augmented freaks - where even half of them remotely human? She could feel the excess, the machines operating in place of the natural. She wanted to vomit. Not now, though, there was still work to do.

"Move." Her voice was drowned by the beat. The throng of people blocking her path did not even budge. Her eyes narrowed.

Fuck it.

The music stopped. A quick double-tap to the main console turned the entire population's attention to the lone bounty hunter, her arm extended and sidearm withdrawn. She released its counterpart for effect. Slowly, she stepped forward and traced the weapon around the room, staring, observing, daring anyone to make a move.

"I said fucking move." They moved.

Annoyed, Lex swiveled the guns about, her voice now clear over the hushed silence of the crowd.

"I'm looking for a Kaanaji. His name is Cithe. I also know he is here. Give him up and everyone has a pleasant night, stall me and I will blow your fucking head off." She turned toward the bar and eyed the inhabitants. No alien would be walking around without a disguise.

"Five seconds, then... you." Lex tilted one of her pistols toward a cowering woman near the door. "You die. Four." She counted.

The room was eerily silent. The patrons and the workers alike remained plastered where they stood, watching with uncertainty as the wild cunt drew her guns and aimed them around the bar. There was a cough.

Hustle off, lady, there's nothing for you here.

Cithe kept his eyes transfixed on the glass in his hand. He gave it a tip, sending the ice clinking against the side. The barkeep lumbered back in and was about to open his mouth when the kanaaji gave him a hard look and a gesture with his head. Don't get yourself killed, he wanted to say, And don't rat me out either.

But the woman was stubborn, and from the abrupt gasps that resounded from the mouths of startled women, it was apparent she was about to execute an unfortunate girl. Shit. What did a lone human female matter to him? They massacre each other and claim it a victory. What do I care? But he did. He did fucking care. And that's what irritated him the most.

He waited. No one spoke up. The numbers trickled down from the venemous tongue of the femme fatale.

With a frustrated sigh, he turned in his seat, scrutinizing the hunter with feigned nonchalance. "I can tell you where that devilish maggot is, if you just... put those whopping beauties down. The girl's done nothing wrong." He raised his hands, as if hoping the gesture would translate into an offer of peaceful resolution.

"Let's step outside, and I'll tell you all about this bastard." He pushed aside the glowering crowd and gestured for the woman to follow.

Good timing. Lex stopped her count at one and turned her attention to the unknown at the bar. Brave, or stupid. Either worked for her. When he approached her she lowered the weapons as per his request, albeit not in the way he imagined. With a start, she lifted one of the pistols and pulled the trigger, sending a high-impact slug right into the man's calf. The sound gave the crowd a start. Some screamed, some jumped back - others made as if they were to intervene only to have a gun lowered in their direction.

"Outside then." Lex grunted and holstered one of the pistols. She shoved the other one against the man's temple and grabbed his collar, forcing him out of the establishment. She cleared the door and dragged her victim to the nearby alley, hurled him to the ground and brought the weapon around, it's barrel poised readily to blow a nicely sized hole into his head.

"Good of you to volunteer, cyber-freak. Tell me everything about the fuck and you get to keep your head, stall me, or fuck with me, and I find another asshole who wants to be a hero."

There was a complete lack of compassion in her demeanor. Lex stared with an intense passion. There was no doubt in anyone's mind what she would do if she even so much as detected a lie.

And in that instant, the pain exploded up his leg. He hadn't heard himself roar in agony, but his throat ached and the clatter of voices pounded at his ears. That cunt, he wanted to scream, but he was being dragged outside, receptive from the shock and the sickeningly cold kiss of the barrel against his head.

The ground met him in a rush. He groaned audibly, clamoring to his knees, trying futily to block the pangs of agony that pulsed through his leg. Shot me, in the middle of the public. She fucking shot me. Cithe glanced up, scouring the flickering neon lights plastered to the shiny metallic walls that composed the majority of the buildings. There was nothing in his vicinity to aid him in his current predicament, which meant he was sincerely fucked.

And for some reason, that seemed genuinely funny to him. The laughter escaped his lips before he could seal them, and it escalated, even as it echoed amongst the dirty plastic windows and rusty pipes. "You fucking shot me. Man, am I in some deep shit. Probably even deeper than that time on Abaddon, but I'm sure you don't want to hear that sorry old tale, it even bores me sometimes."

He backed up against the wall, lifting one knee up idly to rest his arm on. The wound in his calf was pulsing raw indigo blood into a pool on the metal pavement.

"Look lady, you caught your man. But how's about you just forget this all happened and we go on our merry way, ey? There's no need for violence or cunts or any mixture of the two, honestly. I'm probably worth, what, 100 credits at most? I'm sure we can compromise here, toss me a bone."

Lex pushed the barrel of her gun into his mouth before he finished talking. She leaned over him and put her hand on the wound, applying pressure, but in such a way to make it sting. For now he wouldn't bleed out.

"Call me a cunt again." She stared at him. "Go ahead. I chased you all the way into another fucking system you livid piece of shit, unless you can cough up five-thousand in my dry as fuck accounts then I suggest you shut your alien-fuck mouth." There was a bit of anger there. Her head was pounding. Half of her wanted to let him go, to just be done with it all - if she wasn't so strapped for cash, she would not have even bothered. For now, though, fuck.

With her bloodied hand she removed the Stun Cuffs from her belt and shoved the Kaanaji's wrists into the links. The activation would shock him just to doubly inform of how captured he truly was. Lex had never seen anything escape from even the basest pair of Roshoqan cuffs.

"Me Lex. You Cithe. Me hunter. You prisoner. Get it? Got it? Good. Don't run, the bounty isn't worth as much dead, but don't think I won't shoot you in the back." She grunted and withdrew the weapon from his mouth. "Stand up, and don't bitch at me about how much your leg hurts." At least she wasn't all bad. She offered a hand to help the man up, albeit once she finished she was quick put him ahead of her, kicking him in the rear to get moving.

"Slum docks. Go."

Cunt.

His mouth was sealed. More precisely, there was a barrel blocking his tongue. When the cuffs snapped across his wrists and sent a superfluous jolt through his body, he bit back a wince.

"They upgraded their cuffs I see," He commented, once his mouth was free from the invading barrel. He'd internally mustered enough of a shock in an attempt to fry the tech holding him hostage, but it seemed futile. His wound was draining him, along with his resolve.

They were observed by curious bystanders as they passed through looming skyscrapers and dank alleyways. Destitute men with broken, synthetic limbs extended their hands and moaned for a credit or two, while occasionally a gang of children scampered through the shadows. Everywhere were neon signs, holographic billboards that sang advertisements of all sorts, small indie shops selling a myriad of odd technological goods. Everything had a touch of technology here, even down to the artificial pets created for companionship.

Cithe limped on, passing through the massive arch that led into Dock 38, otherwise known as the Slums. The warehouses here were home to men whose piercing synthetic gazes could probably manifest daggers, and their bulky physiques stood as testament to their ongoing campaign to maximize their strengths. Most have long since replaced their organic bodies with purely synthetic ones.

"Is that your ship?" Cithe exclaimed, dubiously. "Is that your ship?" He wanted to laugh, but his life was more important than a jest, to be sure.

"So how does this go, lady b--... Lex. You hand me off to whatever assholes decided to set my bounty, they do with me as they please, you leave with your money? And apparently a shitty amount, as I suspected. What if I told you that you'd make more cash by letting me go, sound interesting?"

Lex paid little heed to the beggars. She cared even less for the surroundings. Each beck and call pounded against her head, thumping along with the constant pain now searing across her temple. Maybe it was the lights, the excess, that constant whir of technology at every turn. Even the animals here were robots. Nothing here was natural, and even the fully synthetic thugs that eyed her armor did little to frighten the lone hunter. One shot to the head and they died like everything else.

Thwack! The butt of her pistol slammed into the back of Cithe's head. She kicked him again and urged him forward, forcing him up as the cargo ramp lowered for them to board. There was a scuffle before Lex grabbed her victim by the arm and dragged him up into the hold, stopping only to raise the access hatch. He never did shut up much, did he? Whatever.

"What if I told you that every sorry son of a bitch I've ever captured fed me the same line? I'll let you guess how many managed to convince me." She grunted and shoved the Kaanaji to the side of the hold where there was a small containment unit. The transport was large enough for a simple crew, three or four maybe, but none of it was designed for guests. And most of the blasted thing was nothing more than a space-faring U-haul. There was no more than three meters of clearance for the ceiling and the immediate pathways lead invariable to no more than a cockpit and a personal quarters.

The lot of it was quaint. Small, though sleek with a typical Roshoqan design, the craft held at least a degree of style. Lex paused only to motion Cithe toward the stasis pod. It would be cramped, but then again he'd be unconscious anyway. The top slid open and she waited.

"Don't make me put you in."

She offered him a slug to the head for his insolence, with which he responded with a yelp and an irritated glare. Both his head and his leg throbbed painfully, but damned if he was going to let this bitch reduce him to a sniveling coward.

As she gestured toward the unintentional prison, he took a step back.

"Oh come on, let's not get hasty here. I'm sure that stasis pod is nice and cozy, but how about I just... you know, hang around, preferrably awake." If anything, Cithe was an adequate pilot, and his interest in spacecrafts only intensified since his defection from the fleet. The exterior of the craft was nothing to boast about, but the interior was foreign to him. He peered closer at the walls, the compartments and the general infastructure as he spoke.

"Tell you what, I can clean your mess, I've been told I'm good at it. Cleaning, that is. I can shoot guns pretty well too. Surprising? I'd like to think I'm a top notch sniper, but as you can clearly see, my baby's been left behind." He was limping toward the cockpit, splattering blood and all, but he didn't seem aware. His eyes peered beyond the front panel and towards the pearly pink horizon.

"I can cook too. Mostly kanaaji food, but I managed to learn some human recipes too. Stir fry, crawfish chowder, pesto pasta... Oh, and an odd dessert called beignet. A nice old woman taught me that one, a shame I can't eat it. What type of ship is this?"

He chanced a glance behind him, and hoped to the gods above that he wasn't about to get his brains blown out.

Something snapped. He would not shut the fuck up. Lex stood in place, one hand contorting as she grabbed her forehead and stared down into her palm. Her eyes were red with furry. All around her the world pulsed. The walls bled with rage, and all of it - every inch of her designs, suddenly fell upon Cithe. Fuck it.

She raised her pistol. Then stopped.

"You can cook?" Her head tilted to the side. The world was normal again. The pain in her head slowed to a dull roar and suddenly she could think again. "Well that changes everything." Her tone dripped with sarcasm. The venom in her voice was palpable.

"None of this fucking shit is even worth the useless price on your head." In truth, Lex had nothing more than military rations aboard the vessel. When was the last time she had eaten a hot meal? The memory of another woman flooded her mind. "I'll make a deal with you, lizard, give me your holoprojector and I'll let you stay here. You clean this ship, you cook, and you don't piss me off and I'll make this bounty go away."

She holstered the handgun and locked eyes with Cithe. There was no jocular expression, no lie. She did not possess a sense of humor.

He was still alive, a spectacular achievement. The pistol aimed at his head, however, forced him to a standstill. He observed with only a predator's stare as the hunter mulled over his offer. She's as crazy as they come, interesting.

She offered the terms of his "release", and with a satisfied shrug, he complied. "Your own personal... what do you humans call them, maid? Whatever. Just don't scream if I happen to look exceptionally hideous."

He twisted his hand to press a switch on his bracer, and within moments, the avatar of a false human flickered out of sight. The kanaaji was the same height, but in place of hair was a crested cranium, and along his face and arms shimmered subtle scales of gradient hues in violet, cyan and muted perriwinkle. Fortunately, he remembered to dress that day, in an elastane shirt, black cargo pants and combat boots. Simple, but effective.

"The bracer, it's the holoprojector. Cooking will be rather difficult if I can't use my hands, though." He inclined his head and offered her a fang-filled smile.

There it was. No matter how many time she saw them the Kanaaji never ceased to be underwhelm her. Despite the scales, the flat faces and otherwise lizard qualities, they were just too human to be foreign. Arms, legs, reproductive organs. Lex grunted and returned the friendly gesture with a haphazard smirk. Idiot. Within moments the projection device was removed from Cithe's wrist and the stun cuffs had relocated themselves back to her belt.

"Don't get any ideas. You can't beat me in a straight fight, and if you con me out of anything I will find you again, and I will put five slugs in your chest, understand?" Her tone was different now. Sultry, even, the rasp was still there yet intent lacked the raw violence and hostility it had held only moments previous. She never mentioned his race, nor did her demeanor change when what was once flesh became alien.

For a moment she toyed with the holodevice. Nothing unusual. She kept a similar projector via her visor, the ear-mounted piece that remained an ever-present tool of the trade.

"Contractors can never tell the difference between your species. If you want to be officially dead tell me where I can find another one of you. Otherwise," She droned off, her head tilting ever-so-slightly toward the stasis pod.

She'd released him, at least from the confines of the cuffs. Idly, he glanced towards the exit. I could make a run for it and risk my head exploding. But do I dare? His eerie, opalescent eyes scrutinized the hunter from head to toe, Nope.

He wouldn't have made it far without his disguise. One step and the Cerunian patrol would have had him carted off to his doom. Clever woman.

"You need to relax, lady. Maybe a massage. I can oblige, of course," He offered blithely, "Or perhaps a delicious meal. I live only to serve." He lowered his head in a mock bow, but his body felt the jolt of her electric signature. He didn't need to analyze her tone to know she'd changed, nor did he feel the need to remind her of his inherent abilities.

"You're free to slaughter whatever asshole kanaaji you want, provided it's not me. I heard there was even a whole fleet of them, somewhere off in deep space. If you release me from service I might just even send a corpse your way, I tend to come into contact with them quite often."

He gestured around the ship with a clawed hand, "Got a kitchen?"