by N M Tatum
The bartender looked him over, his eyebrow cocked and a disingenuous smile on his face. “You some kind of simpleton?”
Joel nudged his friend aside. “Yes, yes he is. Kicked in the head when he was a kid. By his own dad. Thought he was a soccer ball…it’s that big, round head. Real shame. Anywho, we’re looking for a real badass,” Joel added. “But also someone who’s not too expensive. A good amount of badass for a reasonable sum. You know anybody like that?”
The bartender continued wiping down dirty glasses with an equally dirty rag as he stared blank-faced at Joel.
He returned the deadpan expression, the two seemingly engaged in an unofficial staring contest.
Cody decided to give it a try. He joined his friends at the bar. “Look, Mr…uh, Bartender Man, we’re somewhat pressed for time. If you can’t help us, we will have to take our business elsewhere.” His lanky arms swung around like monkeys on vines searching for a place to land. He ended up folding his hands on the bar top, which he regretted as his forearms immediately stuck to it. He tried to put on a tough guy face, but he just looked constipated.
“You ain’t bought nothing,” the bartender said, never breaking his staring contest with Joel. “By all means, take your business elsewhere.”
Joel slammed his fist on the bar. “Dammit, man, are you made of stone? Do you not have tear ducts?” Joel wiped the tears from his burning eyes. The bartender kept right on wiping glasses, never blinking.
A soiled man appeared beside Reggie. He looked half-asleep. The other half looked completely wasted. “Oi, you looking for a merc?”
Reggie nodded and tried not to breathe in the man’s stink.
“You want Sam,” the man said. “Best merc around. Made of ice. Total badass. Should be around here somewhere.” The man belched a nasty cloud directly in Reggie’s face.
Trying to be polite, Reggie did not turn away, but, instead, turned a sick shade of green and said, “Thank you.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Cody said, pushing his glasses up his nose again. He turned back to the bartender. “Do you know where we can find this Mr. Sam?”
The bartender stared at him as he wiped down the bar with the same rag with which he wiped down everything else.
Cody couldn’t hide his discomfort. He shrank away from the portly man, slid off his stool, and pulled the Notches with him. “I think we should just go. This place is proving unhelpful and quickly becoming hostile. I suspect the bartender might want to murder us.”
Joel swatted Cody’s hand away. “Nonsense. He’s stoic. A stoic, angry, possibly homicidal bartender. That just proves that we’re in the right place. This kind of seedy dive is exactly where you find the sort of person we need. Now, let’s find this Sam.”
They split up, much to Cody’s dismay, and canvassed the bar looking for information on Sam. Most ignored them. The few who did seem open to talking clammed up as soon as the guys mentioned the name Sam.
The trio regrouped near the front door.
“I’m getting a bad feeling about this,” Cody said. “They all seem to be afraid of Sam. What kind of guy could scare this bunch of people?”
“Exactly the kind of guy we need,” Joel said.
Reggie shot Cody a sympathetic look. “I kind of agree with Joel, man. Sorry. If this guy measures up to his reputation, he might be able to handle the ShimVens.” A despondent expression fell over Reggie’s face. “If we could just find him.”
A raspy voice sounded from the dark corner just off the end of the bar. A barrel-chested man, head shaved bald to showcase the terrible decision that he’d made to get a scalp tattoo, approached another figure that was drenched in shadow.
“Heya, Sam,” the man said. “Heard you’s looking for some action tonight.”
“I don’t look,” the shadowy figure said, voice muffled like it was being spoken into a fan. “Action finds me.”
Joel nudged Reggie with his elbow. “Oh, that was a good line. This has to be the dude.”
Cody scratched nervously at his chin with his fishing pole arms. “Yeah, but I don’t think—”
His voice fell away when Sam stepped out of the dark corner to square off with the unfortunately tattooed man. Still cloaked in shadows, Sam moved like a thing out of a nightmare. A shadow, cold and confident, sucking the warmth out of the room. Thin but not small, there was a lot of muscle packed into the nimble frame. But it wasn’t the threat of the shadow that surprised the guys most. It was the curves.
Joel nudged Reggie again. “Whoa! The dude’s a lady. That’s definitely a woman shape.”
Sam stepped into the light. She was dressed in an all-black tactical bodysuit. Knives were sheathed on the sash that fell across her chest. A blaster hung on each hip. The knuckles of her fingerless gloves were worn, the leather cracked and gushing their fibrous innards. She stood as high as the bald man’s chest but was nowhere close to intimidated by the size difference. Her mouth was covered by what looked to be a respirator.
She stared up into the big man’s eyes. “How many times I need to tell you, Earl? Don’t talk to me. Don’t look at me. Don’t stand upwind of me.”
Earl did not look amused. “You got a hell of a mouth on you, girl. How’s about you take that thing off and let me see it?” He reached for the respirator.
“Keep your hands to yourself, sir,” Reggie said. Before the others knew what was happening, Reggie was walking toward Earl like a knight in extremely stupid armor. “Or I’ll be forced to ask you to leave.”
Cody and Joel reluctantly followed. “Holy shit, man,” Joel said to Reggie. “What are you doing? That guy is enormous.”
“Being valiant,” Reggie said. “And watch your mouth. There’s a lady present.”
Earl turned his bald, sweaty head their way. “Friends of yours, Sam?”
Sam looked each of them over, her green eyes narrowing on their faces. Then she leaned back and crossed her arms. “Nope.”
Earl set his eyes on Reggie like a dog on a steak. He cracked a broken-toothed smile as he ground his meaty fists together. He pulled back his arm and lunged. His fist came crashing down at Reggie like a wrecking ball made of sausage. Reggie dove to the side, slamming into Cody and narrowly dodging certain doom. Joel planted his foot on a nearby chair, jumped, and drove his fist into the side of Earl’s face.
The big man didn’t even flinch.
“Give him your level-up punch,” Cody yelled.
“That was my level-up punch,” Joel said, swallowing hard as Earl growled. “You’re a big fucker. And I mean that in the most complimentary way possible.”
Earl lunged forward. Joel ducked and rolled under his arms. He planted his feet and climbed onto the big man’s back, wrapping his arms around Earl’s meaty neck. Cody and Reggie ran to the assist. Reggie dropped his shoulder and drove it into Earl’s gut. Cody wrapped his lanky arms around Earl’s leg.
Sam leaned back on the bar and watched the trio struggle to avoid death while protecting her honor. They seemed an utterly useless bunch, but she couldn’t help but be amused by them. They had heart, at least. Too bad that Earl was about to make their hearts all stop beating.
The big man plucked Joel off his back like he was a tick and slammed him on the ground. Then he swatted Reggie aside and swung his leg until Cody lost his grip and rolled across the dirty floor. “Not even a good workout,” Earl said.
The guys were done. Joel was heaving for breath. Blood trickled down from Reggie’s nose. Cody was disoriented. He tried to stand but fell back against a table, overturning some chairs. They had survived a swarm of ShimVens only to meet their end in a shitty dive bar at the hands of a man named Earl.
The beast that was Earl stomped toward Reggie, casting the shadow of death over him. A much smaller shadow came to meet him.
“Work this out,” Sam said as she marched toward the big man, her fist cocked back and ready to fire. She drove it up into Earl’s chin like a rocket breaking atmosphere. Earl fell, breaking a table
and three chairs under his broad, sweaty back.
The sudden silence was jarring, like an explosion had blown out everyone’s eardrums and they’d all gone deaf at the same time. Cody, Joel, and Reggie froze in place, trapped in the awe-struck gaze of the other patrons. They looked from the massive mound of unconscious goon on the floor to the woman who just put him there, trying to calculate how it was possible.
“Shit,” Joel said. “Dude’s out like a light.” He looked at Sam, astonished. “One fucking punch.”
Reggie brushed himself off. “Ma’am,” he said to Sam. “Where do you see yourself in five years?”
Joel shoved Reggie aside. “Dude, I think she’s passed the interview part of the process.” Joel ran his hand through his hair, smoothing it out. He flashed Sam a smile that he believed to be utterly charming. “Sam, was it? How would you like to join us for the adventure of a lifetime?”
She scoffed and made to walk away.
Cody pushed his way past the guys. “Sam,” he said, stopping her from leaving. “We would like to employ your services.”
Sam studied each of them and the mess they’d made. Quite a trio. Obviously a tight-knit bunch. Obviously hopelessly out of their depth. They had no business in a place like this, but they seemed to be the only ones who didn’t know that. They had no clue that they didn’t belong there. Maybe they didn’t care. Maybe they were desperate.
A voice in her head told her to walk away, maybe get them to buy her a drink or two for her troubles first, but then definitely walk away. She didn’t need any more trouble right now. And she didn’t care to babysit. But there was something about them that she couldn’t walk away from just then. A genuineness. An honesty that she couldn’t deny.
What the hell, she thought. “Sure,” she said. “What’s the job?”
Chapter Twelve
Sonic Shuttle
Sam seemed to take to the ship well enough. Reggie was overly concerned that the state of Sonic would turn her off. Joel assured him that it may have needed a good cleaning, but it was miles ahead of that shithole bar where they found her.
She sat back, her feet kicked up on the dinner table, and listened as Reggie briefed her on the details of their job. She listened silently, absorbing the information, her face calculating like she was already formulating a plan.
Cody appeared wary of her, treating her as he did Meatball, a monster who might eat him.
“So that’s what we’re looking at,” Reggie said, wrapping up his briefing. “What do you think?”
Sam nodded. “I think I’m impressed. You three took on an entire ShimVen infestation without proper gear or the first clue about what you were doing. Either you fell ass-backward into some incredible luck, or you’ve got grit.”
“What’s with the respirator mask thing?” Joel asked. “Asthma?”
Cody slid his fingers under his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Inappropriate.”
Joel continued as if he didn’t hear anything. “Or are you, like, horrifically scarred or something? I mean, it’s totally badass. You’ve got a Darth Vader thing going on. Or Darth Sam. Or is it Samantha? Can I call you—”
Sam shot up out of her chair, producing a knife as if from nowhere, and put the tip of it to Joel’s throat. “Never call me that.”
Joel looked like a mouse in a room full of cats. “Got it.”
Sam sheathed her knife and fell back into the chair. “First thing, we need proper gear. Luckily, I know a guy. Second, this is my chair now. I call dibs for life.”
Cody swallowed hard. He wanted to inform her that it was actually his chair and that there were only three on the entire ship, but he opted not to…in light of the knife incident and how terrifying she was.
Instead, he leaned in close to Reggie and whispered, “Do you think her guy also sells chairs?”
The man who sold gear was what one might expect when someone like Sam claims to have ‘a guy.’ He was a weaselly, little man, operating out of the back of a donut shop. He looked like he didn’t sleep, or that he was addicted to cough syrup, and believed that the government listened to him by bugging his microwave. He was a tinfoil-hat-wearing prepper type sitting on a mountain of dangerous weapons, which made the guys extremely uncomfortable.
But he served amazing donuts.
“Holy crap,” Joel said through a mouthful of bacon glazed cruller. “This is the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.”
Sam’s guy, ironically named ‘Steady,’ twitched every time one of the Notches spoke. Their presence seemed to put him ill at ease. He spoke only to Sam. “ShimVens? They’s some nasty bitches. But I got what you need.”
Steady opened a hatch in the floor of the bakery to reveal a hidden staircase. They followed him down into the musty cellar that stank of deep fried everything. Cody’s stomach rumbled despite the nagging fear in the back of his head. Steady flicked the lights on, which only made the nagging louder: the walls were lined with guns, grenades, rocket launchers—tech that wasn’t available to most outside the military. At least, it shouldn’t have been.
Steady looked even more insane under the glow of the lights, surrounded by enough ordnance to kill a small country.
Sam’s eyes lit up like she’d just walked into a candy store. She strolled the racks, letting her fingers slide longingly over the weapons. “What can you tell me about the bugs? Weaknesses?”
Cody pushed his glasses up his nose. “They’re weak against fire. Not sure about other elemental damage. They don’t have a lot of armor, so physical attacks work well, too. Their major strength is their numbers. While defending your front, the swarm will gank you from the side.”
Sam crossed her arms and studied the racks of weapons. After some consideration, she said, “All right, Steady, here’s what we need.”
Steady produced a pen and scrap of paper from his pocket.
Sam walked the length of the weapon racks, tagging each item as she mentioned it. “Personal energy shields, elemental grenades, a couple of pulse rifles and plenty of ammunition.”
Reggie sucked in a breath as he sidled up next to Sam. “Really love the initiative, Sam, but we sort of don’t have the money for this. Like, not even close. Spent it on the gear for our last run at the ShimVens, and we, of course, paid you. You’re welcome.”
Sam brushed the comment off like it was no big deal and allowed Steady to gather her order. Once he did, he dropped it all in a heap at their feet, mentioning the cost.
The Notches made to leave, thinking the whole thing a waste of time.
Sam leaned in close to Steady. She put her arm around him. “Remember that favor I did for you a while back? That other dealer who was hassling you? Whatever happened to him?”
Steady shrugged. “Don’t know.”
“Exactly,” she said, patting him on the back. Then she hoisted the massive sack of gear over her shoulder and started climbing the stairs. “Call us even.”
The Notches hustled up after her, not wanting to see if there would be any fallout from Sam apparently stealing a shitload of expensive stuff. Steady let them go.
They sorted all the equipment once they were safely back on Sonic. The guys geeked out about their new gear until they were thirty minutes out from the station, then the sense of dread hit them square in their throats.
Sam ran them through the particulars of the new gear, got them acquainted with it all so they would be able to use it when the time came. That helped to ease Cody’s nerves slightly. He liked to be prepared.
Reggie took several deep breaths to get his blood flowing. Joel fiddled with the new gear some more, and Sam slapped the back of his hand when he took a screwdriver to one of the personal energy shields.
“What the hell are you doing?” she said. “Trying to void the warranty?”
“I’ve never had one of these.” Joel sounded like a scolded child. “I just wanted to tinker with it a little.”
“You don’t tinker with these.” Sam wagged her finger like s
he was speaking to a dog that had just tinkled in the house. “That’s how shit gets broken, and that’s how people die.”
Dejected, Joel dropped his screwdriver and hung his head.
But he didn’t have much time to sulk. Sonic came out of hyperspeed, and the station hung like a guillotine on the horizon.
“All right, boys,” Sam said. “Suit up.” She checked her gear and began strapping on all the essentials for the job.
“She is so cool,” Reggie said to Cody and Joel as they followed after her. “‘Suit up.’ I don’t sound half as cool when I say it.”
Joel just grunted. Cody shook out his hands, trying to get rid of his jitters.
The guys formed a circle and began strapping up. Sam, who was ready to go, paced the outside of their circle. She recognized how fragmented and distracted they were. She may have taken the job on a bit of a whim because these three amused her, but they would get her killed if they didn’t have their heads on straight. She recognized their sort, and she knew how to psych them up. “It’s game time, boys. Team deathmatch. Us versus the bugs. We’re about to spawn right in the middle of a shitstorm, and you better be ready. There’re no respawns. One life. You get pwned, and that’s it.”
Cody’s nerves began to calm. Reggie felt a surge of excitement. Joel gripped his pulse rifle tight and imagined mowing down a wave of ShimVens.
“So, what do you say, boys?” Sam continued. “You ready to do some pwning of your own?”
At that, the Notches erupted like a horde of Scots watching William Wallace challenge the English. They were locked and loaded and ready to finally complete their first job.
Or die trying.
