Open Season on Freebirds

[Bloodrose]

Blackwater Mill was just a speck on the map of nowhere; a glorified trading post lurking on the feral edges of Corone's wilderness. It was the kind of place that was purposefully difficult to find, requiring determined travelers to skirt the southern edge of the Comb Mountains, along the northern edge of Concordia to nearly the eastern coast of the continent. The locals here, all fifty or so of them, were neither welcoming nor unwelcoming of strangers, and few possessed the passing interest to ask questions. A bland and uninteresting lot really, rising to tend their small fields, fish the long and shallow tributary headwaters of the Firewiner River, and hunt in the forest. Its location and its passive populace made Blackwater the perfect place to hide...

A thin, gray veil of smoke trailed out from the corner of Teric's mouth as he lazily scanned over the parchment in his hand. "Madison 'Whore' Freebird," the crumpled missive read, "wanted alive (preferably)..." It was typical of the contracts lowbrow thugs put on their victims, both insulting and subtly dark at the same time. As a fellow Pagoda Warrior, Teric was off-handedly familiar with the name Madison Freebird, and he knew by reputation that she didn't go around introducing herself as 'Whore'. The veteran also knew, unfortunately, what was usually implied by wanting someone alive.

The Scarlet Syndicate, whoever they were, was obviously displeased with Ms. Freebird...

Several hundred in gold displeased...

Another trail of smoke from the lit cigarette as Teric folded the parchment and returned it to the safety of his pocket. He was dressed light today, opting to leave his heavy coat and breastplate locked away in the footlocker of his meager room at the serviceable inn Blackwater's residents maintained on the edge of 'town'. The inn, Teric would have it be known, was actually nothing more than a renovated windmill, remnants of a bygone era when the locals were still trying to raise grain instead of hardier crops more suitable to the rough earth.

"Nienna," The veteran called back through the open doorway of the inn, "are you ready to go?"

His partner is this venture was a taller elven woman he'd bumped into in Scara Brae, a fellow wanderer interested in making a quick a coin. She was a quirky one, almost like she didn't know what was going on sometimes, but Teric was confident she could handle herself in a scuffle should Madison ('The Hunted' as he was taking to calling her) put up the resistance he was expecting from a Pagoda Hierarch.

You can't hide out here forever. Teric mulled, almost as if trying to project his thoughts. His eyes took in every window, doorway, and obstruction in the tiny, one pony town. It had momentarily been a three pony town, but the two trackers the 'Syndicate' had provided their hired hunters had taken off almost immediately after leading them this far. You're skulking out there somewhere. The old warrior flicked the smoldering remains of his cigarette into a trough of stagnant water sitting near the inn's virtually unused horse-post.

"I'll find you..."

[Liquid Ice]

I'd forgotten how uncomfortable it was to wear clothing that wasn’t form fitting. I hadn’t worn anything beside my HUNTER issue gear since… well, I had been aged five standard units and was taken in to begin basic HUNTER training on the twelfth day of Seti’s month in the four-fourteenth year of Emidar’s reign. Kivan’s shirt and breeches were just too big. (Kivan Destro, six-four, two-oh-five pounds, born on the second moon of the planet Strevix, trained mechanic, certified in three different star systems, no combat experience.) I closed my eyes for a moment and willed the tension to leave my shoulders. The training just went too deep. Maybe someday I’d be able to think of a person without the string of “pertinent” information about that person leaping to the forefront of my thoughts. It didn’t matter who Kivan had been, not anymore. Not since I killed him. Vergo (Six-two, one-eight-five, Andosian, certified pilot, trained in basic military self-defense.) and Drost (Five-eleven, one-five-oh, unknown, no certifications, experienced bar fighter.) had both been low life scum, it bothered me no more to end their lives than to wipe mud from my boots. But Kivan had been nice to me. Even though I was just some tag along ragamuffin spaceport brat, he had shown me genuine kindness. Kindness I’d repaid by igniting my claws at the base of his skull and carving a hole in his brain so the blood could drain out his eye sockets. I didn’t know much about most culture’s standards of kindness, but somehow I think that would be considered kind. It wasn’t like I hadn’t killed before. It had been one of my primary duties as a HUNTER, so why did I keep seeing the betrayed look frozen into his bloody face, laying there on the bunk where I stashed his body?

A sharp call of the alias I’d chosen caught me embarrassingly off guard. My muscles tensed and only my eyes slid over sharply to seek the origin of the voice. I relaxed only slightly when I saw that it was only the mercenary I’d hooked up with in Scara Brea. He was an older man (Teric Bloodrose, six-oh, one-six-eight, local, magic-enhanced swordsman, war veteran). He had been kind to me so far, and I was learning a great deal about the local culture and standards of acceptable behavior from him. He seemed to have taken me under his wing, even though it seemed that in my assumed role as an elf he would not presume to mentor me. He treated me as an equal and had offered to assist me in finding work, which I had accepted. That placed him squarely in the useful category. He was a man to leave a lasting impression that I was someone who was willing to learn, kept my word and could be relied on in a tight spot. Whether any of those were true were beside the point. If he thought I could be recalled for other missions, he could be a source of fairly steady work and information on locals and dependable contacts in other areas. I had long since mentally tagged him as a long term contact.

"I'm ready." I answered, rising from the table where I had been waiting. I pulled my cloak tightly around me and left the inn. Teric was standing outside, taking inventory of all the buildings in town, as if he expected his quarry to still reside there. It seemed unlikely to me, but he did have a better understanding of the locals than I did, so I decided to mimic his actions, glancing around the town. None of the buildings yielded anything that I would consider unusual, but again I was not the local expert. What did catch my attention; however, was something else entirely. When Teric discarded his cigarette into the seemingly abandoned trough of water, I caught sight of my own reflections. My skin was still reddened somewhat from the painful sunburn I’d received upon landing. My hair had grown out slightly and needed to be dyed again. The black roots where just beginning to show. My cloak was looking worse than ever, now that salt water abuse joined in the corrosive slime of the Katen biodome. I think it might have been burgundy once but it was just brown now. My gloves were much tighter and thinner than most local fashions; however they did appear to merely be black leather. My pants were four inches too long and two sizes too big. My shirt was obviously meant for a man’s broad shoulders and had no consideration for cleavage, with no buttons until half way down my abdomen. Since it was far too long it did disguise my utility belt, which was still the most undeniably alien part of my wardrobe. Although, if not for the HUNTER suit, I believe my dress would be considered very immodest. It did look rather odd and disjointed a widely open shirt and beneath it a tight fitting black suit that rose all the way up to the top of my throat. Still, the locals seemed to buy that the suit beneath was something called “long underwear”. I wasn’t sure why you would wear such a garment, but as long as it was an acceptable answer I would continue to use it. The overall result was... a vagabond. However, it seemed that traveling warriors were common on this planet and no one gave a traveler in worn dress a second look. So for now, the disguise would do.

"Where do we begin?" I asked my companion quietly. "I am afraid I am not familiar with this area."

[BlackAndBlueEyes]

--Three nights prior--

Two silver candelabras sat on the middle of the table, the eight candles between them casting the room in a dull amber light as the wicks slowly sunk into melted wax. The soothing sounds of a piano concerto emanated from a phonograph that was tucked away in a corner. Through the windows of the manor, once could see the infinite reaches of space; multitudes of white dots spread haphazardly across a blanket of nothingness. On the ornate mahogany table also sat enough food to feed a starving family of five. The smell of turkey, potatoes, beets, fresh bread, corn, and salad suffocated the room. On one plate, a giant drumstick was half devoured, oozing juices into the mashed potatoes and mixing with the gravy. The other plate, however, was as if it wasn't touched at all, save for a small nibble out of a slice of turkey.

On the plush satin sofa that was propped against the wall sat two figures. The thinner, more feminine of the two was straddling the other's lap, while her mouth was over the man's neck. If you looked at it from the right angle, you could see a river of blood pouring from a fatal wound in the man's neck. The woman, donned in a fancy black dress, was moaning softly as her tounge caressed the opened flesh, soaking up as much of the thick red liquid as it could. Her arms were draped behind the man's tilted head. One hand held a damascus dagger that was saturated with blood, while between each knuckle of the other sat small glass vials that were overflowing with the same ooze that used to flow through the man's veins.

"Thanks for the drink, Victor," I whispered to the pale, motionless man as I reluctantly tore my mouth away from his slit throat. No response, as usual. I gazed into his vacant hazel eyes, smiling lightly as I pictured the twisted look of fear as I sprung from the dinner table and slashed his breathing tube wide open. I still had the line of red decorating my face from the initial burst of blood.

I replaced the rubber stoppers on the glass vials, then dropped them and the stained dagger on the cushion beside me before cradling my target's open neck. The stream of blood was slowing to a trickle by now. As I cleaned up the mess around my mouth with a sleeve, I could feel my urges returning. The rush of killing another living being and drinking their blood was something I always enjoyed. My heart began pounding inside my ribcage as I thrust myself towards his neck once more, running my tounge along the inside of the laceration. The taste of iron clouded my senses and set my nerves on fire. I could've stayed like this forever.

Several hurried knocks at the door snapped me back to reality. "Victor? Victor?" The worried shouts of a couple guards came from the the hallway. They must've heard the split-second long panicked scream he emitted before I could permanently silence him. The door handle rattled--maybe locking the door after I came in wasn't such a bad idea after all.

I violently cursed to myself for being so careless as to let my passions get the best of me during an assassination mission. I snatched up the thin tubes filled with the man's blood and crammed them into my bra with one hand while tightly gripping my killing toy with the other.

The door shattered off its hinges as one of the hefty guards, clad in a plain blue and green tunic, shoulder charged it. The big man and his friend stared at our blood-stained bodies, forcing themselves to overcome the mortification of the situation in time to watch me as I flew off of the corpse on the couch and out an open window. I could hear their confused screams as I touched down two stories below. The shock of the landing rattled my legs, but pure adrenaline overrode any pain I was feeling and hastily carried me through the dense forest of Concordia and away from Victor's manor.


--Today--

So, as it turns out, when you murder one of the higher-ups of the Scarlet Syndicate to keep a few coins in your purse, there's a good chance that you're going to piss some people off. Not a general sort of "You're an asshole" resentment, but the kind that leaves your running around with a price on your head that shames how much you made from the killing in the first place.

What made the situation worse was I discovered that they wanted me alive. In most cases, that leads to a fate worse than death itself.

Needless to say, with a decent bounty on my head, I've been skulking around Concordia for the past few days like a beaten dog in the presence of its master, keeping a sharp eye out for anyone who wanted to collect the price hanging over my head. Much to my chagrin, I've stayed away from taverns and inns; choosing instead to sleep underneath the stars, my only company being the chilled nighttime wind and the incessant buzzing of insects.

Earlier this morning, I came upon a small settlement a little under a quarter mile off of South Road. The collection of huddled wooden buildings didn't have much to it--a farm or two flanking one side of it. The towering peaks of the Comb Mountains loomed over the treetops, watching my every step as I made my way towards the houses. I could hear the soft whinnying of horses coming from a nearby stable--suddenly, I was overcome with an idea.

The best place to hide is in plain sight. I could hightail it to Radasanth--no: Underwood, since the former was populated with more of the shady types who probably knew about me and were searching the city for my face. Yes, I would buy a horse off some poor farmer and ride to the city nestled deep within the great forests of Condordia. Once I got there, I would plan my next move.

I made my way towards the source of the noise. The stables were very modest, nothing more than thick wooden trunks supporting a thatched roof with three very simple horses underneath.

"Hello? Is anyone here?" Nobody answered me. As I began to look around some more, I heard the door to one of the nearby houses open. A shabby, dirty man stood in the doorway, a wad of chewing tobacco crammed into his lower lip.

"Yeah, can I help ya', missy?" My nose tweaked in disgust as brown ooze slowly crept out the side of his mouth.

"I have somewheres I need to be. Would it be possible to buy one of these horses off whoever owns them?"

The man scratched his tanned, balding head while looking at the horses. "'Fraid I can't do that, missy. I needs them to plow the fields and help haul the crops to the market a few miles down the road." His voice was tinged with a careless apathy that implied that he was nothing more than a liar. I opened my mouth to object, but he cut me off with a shake of his head and a click of his tounge. "Those're good creatures, hard workers through and through. A fine little girl like you wouldn't be able to work in the whore house long enough to buy me a new one just as fine as the ones you see there."

The temptation to merely off this portly bastard and steal one of the steeds made my fingers twitch. Either way, the horses probably wouldn't give a damn, and I'd be on my way to Underwood before lunch time.

Clenching my eyes shut, I tried to shut out those feelings. Stubbornness wasn't grounds for killing this man, no matter what. I didn't want to, but it looked like I had no other choice. Reaching into the leather coin purse hidden deep within my satchel, I produced a fistful of gold coins and displayed them for the farmer to see. His eyes glowed with the same intensity of the shining disks in the sunlight. He stammered over his words as he jumped down the steps. He quickly undid the reigns that kept the horse tied to one of the wooden support posts and led the dirt brown creature towards me.

I smiled lightly as I took the reigns and handed the farmer the gold. "Thanks."

It's amazing how quickly money can change a person's mind for them.

[Camella]

Camella smelled food. The odor insisted on going straight into her nose. Something extremely tasty was nearby, and Camella was insistant on finding it. She had just finished up a job and she was hungry. Maybe that was why she was smelling all these wonderful odors.

It didn't take long to find out what the source of this was. In the middle of the town of Blackwater Mill appeared to be somebody having a bake sale of some sort. There were three small round tables, but the food looked mostly picked over. There were 3 brownies left on one table. On another table there was 1 grilled cheese sandwich, and 2 hot dogs. On a third table was a place where you had to pay for the food and a sheet of paper that lay next to where the chef lay reclined in his chair.

All of the food was neatly boxed up to take eat elsewhere, as one might expect from a bakesale.

After a bit, Camella bought a grilled cheese sandwich. As soon as she payed for it, Camella opened the box and barely even took one bite before deciding it was the best thing she ever tasted. She was in heaven.

Camella sat down at the third table with the intent of complimenting the chef when she got distracted by the nearby piece of paper. It was a wanted poster for one Madison "Whore" Freebird.

"My compliments to the chef. It's the best food I've ever tasted, By the why. You done looking at this?" Camella said grabbing the wanted poster from the table as she swallowed the rest of her grilled cheese.

[Christoph]

Minor bunny approved.

It had been a long day for Chris. Being on the road longer than he’d anticipated, the chef had been forced to take measures to fund his extended trip. In this particular case, that involved making use of one of his most marketable skills: cooking. It had been an ambitious venture, but with a little planning it proved rather profitable for a day’s work. He estimated that he’d made enough of his profit to fund the next month worth of travel expenses. He was about to start packing up when another customer appeared. She ordered a cheese sandwich that he’d made; it was probably the worth piece of culinary garbage that he’d ever created. The girl seemed to like it, though.

“Oh… thanks; I’d be the chef,” he replied, tilting his head and raising an eyebrow. It’s just a sandwich… He gave her a sideways glance as she snatched up the wanted poster that he’d been glancing over. The short female didn’t look much like the bounty hunting type. To be fair, neither did he, but he didn’t have any intention of seeking the reward. The poster interested him for one reason. He recognized the name.

“You’re going to go after Madison Freebird?” he asked, glancing over the poster one last time before it was yanked away. “I wonder what she did this time.” He scratched his chin and started packing up the remains of his culinary endeavor – it would be his meals for the next several days. “Who’s sponsoring that bounty? Local law enforcement or something?” The small girl shook her head.

“No,” she replied. “The ‘Scarlet Syndicate’ is running it.”

“Oh…” It’d been a couple months since he’d come across Miss Freebird in the Citadel. Apparently, she’d gotten herself into quite a bit of trouble since then, and not with the law. It was then that he decided to get involved. He would need to be subtle, though – and he’d need this girl to help him. “Anyway, I was asking because I’d planned on taking that bounty as well, and I figured that it’d be more efficient for us to work together than not.” He chuckled.

“I know this isn’t a tavern,” he continued. “But there’s no reason that we can’t ‘meet up and decide to go on an adventure’, anyway. What do you say?”

[Bloodrose]

"While I'm not particularly fond of the idea," Teric replied, "we could start by going door to door. In a small, tight-knit community like this, someone is bound to remember having seen the likes of Madison Freebird." A slight pause, and Teric reached to fetch another cigarette. He stopped himself, though, remembering sullenly that he was trying to cut back on his recent indulgence in the habit. "That's assuming, of course," he added, "that our trackers didn't just dump us here on a cold trail."

It was a possibility, Teric knew for sure, but he didn't want to think about it too much so early into the job. Mafias and Syndicates had a notable reputation for retaining questionable help, and it wouldn't have surprised Teric in the least if the two 'trackers' provided by the Scarlet Syndicate were little more than simple woodsmen. No, it wouldn't have surprised him at all, but he would be a liar if he claimed to know anything about tracking itself. Such a craft was not amongst Teric's repertoire of skills, and he had been forced to follow blindly all the way from Radasanth...

I wonder if she's got any skill in that area? The veteran thought of his companion, eyeing over her interesting assortment of clothing. At first glance she might appear nothing more than a vagabond or wayfarer, but an experienced eye could pick out the little things that most people skimmed over, missed, or ignored. Things like the manner in which Nienna carried herself, her demeanor, and the "long underwear" she wore beneath her other garments. There were odd similarities between the two of them that virtually screamed 'soldier' in the veteran's ear.

She can handle herself in a fight. Teric remembered saying to himself when they first met. It was one of the only reasons he'd agreed to stick with her for a while. Baggage was annoying, but knowing that said baggage can handle its own problems made it much easier to deal with...

"You start over on that side of town." Teric said after a moment, indicating a barn and several small houses on the south side of the community. "I'll start over here by the blacksmith and work my towards you. We'll meet somewhere in the middle. If happen to learn anything useful, come find me right away and we'll act."

[Liquid Ice]

I’d learned long ago that if you’re going to go around asking for information, you don’t want people to remember who was asking. The best way to do that was to be briskly officially and keep people from looking you in the eye. All they’ll remember is that someone vaguely official came by asking about something. Also, I was quickly realizing that the people on this planet were mostly humanoids. Normal looking humanoids. Sure there was the freaks running around but people remembered them. Especially in a town as small as this one. Sure, we were the hunters and not the hunted but it was always best to take precautions to make sure it stayed that way.

Retreating to a quiet corned of he village near the well, I winched up the bucket and splashed a handful of the cold water on my face. Reaching into one of the pouches of my utility belt I pulled out the self cleaning case for my contacts and opened it up. Carefully wetting my fingers I fished the contacts out of my eyes and sealed them away. I blinked several times, trying to adjust to the feeling of not having the lenses in my eyes. Looking into the bucket of clear water, it was very odd to see a pair of solid black eyes staring back. It had been a long time since I’d gone without the contacts.

Next was the hair. In a few months it would grow out and I could do something else with it. Bleach it blonde maybe. The blue hair coloring had been the permanent kind. That section of my hair could never be recolored or bleached. But in the interim just covering it with the hood of my cloak would have to do. Lowering the bucket back into the well, I pulled the hood up over my blue hair and turned away to do a quick scan of the village. Nothing jumped out at me, so I’d just have to go on acting like I looked perfectly natural. Surprising how much that worked.

Pulling out my own folded missive, I straightened it out and reread the text. It was irritatingly crude. I had a price on my own head in the outside galaxy but no one would ever do something as blatant and stupid as post pictures of me everywhere. That would tell me exactly what systems knew I had a bounty and was I was expected to look like. It would just make it that much easier for me to hide. But then, was I was quickly leaning, thing worked very differently on this planet.

Fighting back a sigh I moved to the first door on my side of town and knocked on the door. There was a long pause and as soon as it opened I shoved the poster into the door way and barked out in a clipped tone.

“Good day, citizen. Have you seen this dangerous criminal?”

As planned, the man was thrown off stride by the intrusion and squinted at the poster, barely noticing me. After a few moments he shook his head.

“Ain’t never seen nobody like that.” He answered gruffly and slammed the door, annoying at the interruption of whatever he’d been doing. If anyone came inquiring after us he’d only remember some pushy woman with a poster and little else. Satisfied the tactic would work, I moved on to the next house.

--

The search was a successful failure. That is, the questioning itself was flawless. Not one person gave me a second look. But apparently no one here gave anyone a second look because no one had seen my quarry. The inn, usually the best source of information in any town, was also a bust. All that left was the stable that was off to to the side of the village. It was probably connected to a farm house farther down the pasture. Its location made it unlikely that anyone would have seen anything. Unless she’d gone there to acquire transportation. I kept forgetting that this planet had no form of public transportation whatsoever and the roads were mere dirt tracks, the cities spread far apart. If you wanted to travel, you needed animals.

I amended my lapse of judgment and quickly headed over to the secluded building. There was no one inside but a quick search of the building’s perimeter found a rather backwards looking local chewing some kind of leaf pulp and exercising a rather large, broad horse. The man didn’t notice me but the animal did, whinnying and dancing away from me. I guess the animal didn’t like Vashtians. Considering my stock had feline ancestry, it wasn’t surprising.

“What kin I do fer you, little lady?” The farmer asked as he tried to soothe his horse. “I can’t sell no more of mah stock, I’m already one short.”

I folded up the poster I hadn’t shown him yet and stuffed it in the waistband of my loose pants. Something told me I wouldn’t need it. “Mind if I ask who you sold it to?”

“I reckon that’s my own business.” The man answered, a gleam entering his eye. “I’ve got a right to sell my horseflesh to whoever I damned well please.”

“Didn’t say you couldn’t.” I replied. I shoved my hands into my pockets and did my best so slouch like a miscreant. “Just thinkin’ I might already know who you sold the other too.”

The man turned away and began leading the plow horse back towards the stables. “Then why ya wastin’ my time with dumb questions?”

I pulled my hood tighter around my face and looked properly shifty. “See now, my idiot of a sister went and got her ass in hot water. I don’t like bailing the stupid bitch out, but she’s blood and all that.”

“Right saintly of you.” The man replied sarcastically. “What’s it got to do with me?”

I pulled out a gold coin and walked it absently along my fingers. It was much easier to pull off with the sleek round golden coins of this planet than the angled credit chits of the Empire that I was used to doing this with. The shimmer caught his attention. “That little whore has a bad habit of shorting her customers. I think I might be able to fix that if I knew where she was going.”

The farmer grinned, then turned his head and spat on the ground before stepping into the stable to put the animal away. “I reckon I might know which road she took out of town… “

A few minutes later I was back into the ‘town’ proper, my gold pouch lighter than I would have liked as I filled my partner in with the information I’d found. The name meant nothing to me, but I suspected that “towards Underwood” would mean something to Teric.