//------------------------------// // 50: Doc! C'mon man. // Story: Honor the Dead // by BinaryTroll //------------------------------// Honor the Dead by BinaryTroll Pre-read/Edited by Honored Service Chapter 50:“Doc! Cmon man.” -------------- Once we stopped after what I was pretty sure was practically suicidal deceleration and an airbag to the face that really didn't feel like it helped, Melody released us and I stumbled out of the car, dry heaving a couple of times before collapsing onto my face. “Never... again.” I managed to choke out, rolling over onto my back. Shyvanna groaned and muttered something unintelligible. I thought about asking what she said, but the words didn't make it from my brain to my mouth. Instead, I groaned something that was probably a curse and shifted my arm a bit. With considerable difficulty, I ran a quick check over my entire body. Yup, everything hurts. No bones were probably broken, mine were far too strong for that, although I may have ended up with internal bleeding. I couldn't really tell. I hope I didn't end up with brain damage. I was going to tazer that piece of shit iPod. Well, no use laying about hurting. I had things to do. Like buy a tazer. Ignoring the pain in my chest as much as I could, I sat up and used the door handle to pull myself to my feet. From there, I leaned inside the car and glared daggers at Melody. “You little shit. You could have gotten us all killed.” “Come on, plenty of humans have withstood faster than sound travel.” She argued. “Not to mention both you and Shyvanna are far more durable than the average human. And that's not even taking into account that acceleration is the primary damaging factor, not speed. Regardless, it was convenient.” “Convenient?” I asked incredulously. “Where the fuck are we? I just wanted to avoid the cops. Not travel to the ends of the fucking earth.” “Ends of the earth? We only traveled about two-point-two-six-nine-four-oh-five kilometers.” Melody replied, as though speaking to a young child. “Your tendency to exaggerate distances is rather obnoxious. Anyway, I know you still operate on a stone age mentality, but the earth is in fact round, thus not having an 'end' in the conventional sense.” “Perhaps, although you could classify the 'ends of the earth' as the upper reaches of the atmosphere, thus the point where you have left earth and entered space.” I argued back. “That is not a sufficiently deterministic point to measure from.” “Do you even know what the word deterministic means?” “Of course I do, I have the knowledge of the entire human race at my disposal.” I nodded slowly with a sarcastic smile. “Sure man. Sure. That is quite literally impossible as every thought is not recorded, thus a young child in a country without access to a computer would never be able to record a passing thought they had, which means that it is impossible for you to have access to it.” “I speak in a manner that you understand, lest any communication on my part would be worthless.” She replied acidly, but I swear I could pick up the slightest grain of respect in her voice. Or maybe I was just going bonkers. Yeah, it's probably that. “Don't underestimate me. I speak fluent computer jargon!” Can you hear someone roll their eyes? “I'm sure.” “That was a joke by the way. Don't start speaking in C-sharp.” “Well, considering I run iOS, I would speak a combination of C, C Plus Plus, Objective-C and Swift.” Melody replied. “C-sharp would be like you speaking Japanese.” “Japanese?” I asked curiously. “Most people would say Chinese.” “I've read your cookie cache.” She said simply. Man, I must watch a lot of anime. “Whatever. Can you run medical diagnostics and stuff? I think I might have internal damage. Or even if I don't, Shyv might be hurt.” “Not with what I have here.” She grumbled. “I need access to some medical equipment, such as a x-ray machine, before I can do anything useful on that front. I'm not magic you know.” I coughed, which hurt like hell, and gestured to the car she was currently possessing. “Sure. Not magic at all.” She sighed. “Yes, I'm run by magic, but no, I cannot use it outside of my current limits. Even though I'm far more powerful than an object animated by regular magic, as opposed to alicorn level, I'm by no means a magic user. Or so I have theorized. I cannot know for certain.” I was tempted to reply, but I was starting to get really worried about Shyvanna. She hadn't moved or made a sound since I had gotten out of the car. Flopped out of the car. Whatever. I grabbed Melody, who let out a vaguely annoyed “hey!”, before I limped my way around to the other side of the car. Shyv was slumped against the door, still breathing but otherwise unmoving. Well, at least she's still alive. That being said, she might not stay that way. I opened the door, quickly moving to catch her and slowly lower her to the ground. A quick check revealed nothing was broken. Severely at least. She wasn't bleeding either, which was good. Hopefully. “Hey Melody. Look up what happens when humans are exposed to the sort of acceleration we just did.” “When only talking about g-forces, you would have likely been able to withstand a good one and a half times what you just endured without any serious repercussions, but there are other factors involved.” Melody replied almost instantly. “I cannot say for sure, but Shyvanna will likely recover momentarily. My recommendation is you check her breathing, pulse, etc. and lay her on her side.” “Sound advice.” I said, rolling her over and checking her pulse at her neck, then wrist. It was steady, if not overly strong. I placed a hand on her abdomen and felt it expand and contract. Once again, alright. Her breathing was loud, a little irregular, but not labored or wheezing. “I'm no physician, but she seems alright. Either way, I think we should find a hospital.” “I would not recommend that at this point in time. The police are still after us, and we would end up sitting ducks.” Melody said. “Which, however much the image of you being roasted for Christmas dinner amuses me, would be rather inconvenient.” I marveled at the fact Melody actually cared enough to try to protect us, whilst simultaneously being such a fucking bitch. “Fair point. Lets go find somewhere shady and contact a underground doctor. Hopefully there's someone decent around.” Shyvanna stirred, muttering something about pineapples and fish. I poked her lightly in the center of her forehead, making her sleepily attempt to swat my hand away. “Looks like she's waking up.” I said, standing up and taking a step back. “Thank you.” Melody began sarcastically. “I've always needed the obvious spe-” She was cut off by Shyvanna sneezing, expelling a large gout of flame and sitting bolt upright. She winced in pain and clutched her breasts and stomach. “Ow. What happened?” Of course. She's practically fine and in barely any pain at all. “You likely blacked out from blood rushing to your head after we accelerated faster than the speed of sound in a very short timeframe.” “What?” I sighed. “Shit happened and you fainted.” She blinked. “Right. Sorry, it's been a strange day.” I looked up at the sky, the clouds lazily drifting along, stained purple by the rising sun. “That it has. You alright?” Shyv unsteadily got to her feet before poking herself a couple of times. “I think so. These breast things hurt, but I'm starting to get the idea that's part and parcel for the damn things. Asides from that, I have a headache and I feel like somepony bucked me in the stomach.” “Nothing sharp or bones that feel broken?” I asked. “You might have ended up with internal damage to your organs.” “Lower abdomen, liver is one of the main ones for this kind of blunt trauma.” Melody added. Shyv shook her head. “I could do with a lie down and a topaz, but asides from that I should be fine in a minute. What about you?” I took a moment. Most of the general pain had died down, but my chest was still hurting. Like something had stabbed me. I frowned. “I think I'll be fine, but we should both get checked up. Tell me if you piss blood or something.” “Um, alright.” She said uncertainly. “Moving on, Melody, where in smegging hell are we?” I asked, looking at the now smoking wreck of a car. We looked like we were near some sort of shopping center. I could see the Woolworths green-apple-thing logo. “125 Beaudesert road, Moorooka, Brisbane, Queensland, Australia, Earth, Solar System, Orion Arm, Milky wa-” “You can shut up now.” I said, cutting her off. “You are correct. I am capable of 'shutting up' as you so callously put it, I simply choose not to.” She continued, not pausing for breath. Which made sense, being an AI and all. I ignored her and looked around. It was still relatively early, the sun had only barely come up, so I placed the time at around five or so. Which meant there were people about, who I only just noticed. Not many mind you, maybe three or four in sight? A few were looking on curiously at the anime reject and the girl who looked like she had recently escaped prison standing around next to a broken and battered car, but none stuck around for long or offered to help. Typical humans. There's you speaking like you aren't one again. There's me speaking like I'm not me again. I mean, it's not like I'm really surprised nobody offered to help. This wasn't the friendliest of neighborhoods if I remember correctly; I was constantly afraid of getting stabbed here when I was younger. “Well then. Welcome to Moorooka. Aka Little Africa.” And the reason I thought I would get stabbed was because of the low socio-economic status of the area. Much the same reason as the adjacent suburb, which was not known as Little Africa. I guess it was a problem in it's own right that one of the few more ethnically diverse environments was also one of the poorest. But I'm an assassin. Not tumblr. “Little Africa?” Shyv asked, peering about again. I sniffed sullenly and nodded. “Smells like diesel and cigarettes, just like I remember. Also, I'm the only one who actually calls it 'Little Africa' in my experience, but I'm also one of very few people who care very little about offending others who also refer to it.” “Um, alright.” I placed my hand on my forehead and tapped a rhythm out with my fingers while I tried to remember the closest hospital. “Disappointingly far away.” I murmured to myself. “Pardon?” Shyv asked, massaging her stomach. Well, it was either going to be a long walk, or I was going to have to scavenge some money together for a bus ride. “Nothing important. Just thinking about the nearest hospital. Probably Greenslopes.” “That sounds nice,” She sighed quietly. “All these buildings and smoke make me miss the Everfree. At least you could take a full breath without wanting to cough there. And these cars didn't keep zooming past.” “Aye, instead we had to deal with dangerous creatures zooming past.” I set off in the direction of the shopping center, with Shyv falling into step beside me. “Prepare to be disappointed. Greenslopes is just as bad as here. Well, maybe not quite as bad, considering we're next to a main road, but you aren't going to be escaping smoke any time soon. Or buildings. Although we probably aren't going to bother with it anyway, since hospitals have a bad habit of needing some sort of identification of the people they're treating.” “So where are we going?” She asked. “And I've been meaning to ask, why are there so many signs in bright colors everywhere?” “Capitalism my friend.” I replied, gesturing grandly to the surrounding advertisements for various shops screaming at us. Figuratively. “Just wait till we go inside.” She grimaced. “They contrast so much with all the gray. And none of them fit together. Like they're all fighting for space. It just looks... wrong?” “Welcome to Earth, many things are wrong with us.” Not exactly the most condoning of slogans, but hey. “I can see how you'd think so though. I'm so used to it, but considering you've come from a world that looks designed,” because it was “This mess of a city must be quite the experience.” “Indeed. Not to mention the body.” “Please cease the mention of the body. If I wanted to know about female anatomy I'd look it up.” I grumbled. She raised an eyebrow. “Most stallions would jump at the chance.” “A. Not a stallion, although you are correct that most men would jump at the chance. B. Not a pervert, as if it matters, because of C. I don't actually have interest in either gender. As I have stated before.” She rolled her eyes. “I was joking.” “My sense of humor tends to die a bit under stress.” “You don't find the possibility of death stressful?” She asked incredulously. “You seem perfectly happy to joke about whilst about to be incinerated, or whatever other near death situations we've been in.” I sighed. “I don't know how my brain works, alright?” “Weak excuse.” Melody muttered. “Shut up binary-brain.” “That would imply I have a brain capable of only being in two states.” “Which technically is still somewhat correct. The parts of your brain that do anything are only capable of being in two states.” I said irritably. “That's how binary code works, dumbass.” Shyv nudged me with her head, which I found incredibly cute. “People are staring at us.” “I think they would anyway. Considering I'm walking around with a gun strapped to my back and indigo hair. Not to mention we just walked away from a totaled car that pretty much appeared from nowhere.” I stopped and looked up at the metal shutters that closed us off from the Woolworths. “Right. The place is closed anyway. Not that I have money to buy anything.” “Speaking of indigo hair, why does everypo- everybody have black hair? And a lot of them have really dark skin as well.” Shyv asked. “Your questions are endless.” I sighed. “I'm curious.” I shrugged in defeat. “Can't argue with that.” I spotted a nearby bench and sat down. “Well, humans tend to be a less diverse lot than ponies. Our skin and hair colors simply tend to be varying shades of brown. From almost white to almost black. Darker brown hair tends to be the most common, but there are a few blonds and even fewer redheads.” “Really? How do you tell eachother apart so well?” I don't usually. Because I'm a socially inept idiot. “Subtleties in facial structure is the most common, but hairstyles tend to vary a decent amount and pretty much nobody wears uniform clothing unless it's an actual uniform.” “That's why you wear clothing then?” I picked at the drawstrings of my hood. “Nah, compensation for not having fur. But these days, a lot of people like wearing somewhat unique clothing. Personally, I'm a fan of long coats and hoods, which has the unfortunate side effect of making me look like a serial killer. Which I am, sorta.” “Yeah, most ponies wear clothes to look unique.” She said. “Although a few wear it as status. Like the princesses.” I stared at her flatly. “Not an idiot. I have eyes.” “Sorry.” “Don't worry about it. I'm just irritable right now.” I shrugged and leaned back against the wall, crossing my legs. “Maybe it’s dealing with cops again.” Or memories of my childhood. “Either way, sooner we can get out of this mess, the better.” Shyv mimicked my gesture somewhat awkwardly, having a bit of difficulty coordinating her legs into a crossed position. I watched curiously. She ended up having to pull them into place with her hands, which I found rather amusing. I yawned and looked around. We were sitting in a sheltered area, just inside the entrance to a very small shopping center. The lights were still off in most areas, with only the gray light of dawn creating a dim illumination. Only one or two people were hanging about; a shady guy with a prominently green scarf around his neck and mirror shades was talking in hushed tones on an outdated mobile (not that I was one to talk, I owned several Nokia 3310s) opposite us and a couple of teenagers were smoking a few meters to our left. I sniffed derisively and looked away. Despite my involvement in the criminal underground, not to mention numerous instances of drug trafficking and raids on coke gangs, amongst other things, I had very little tolerance for people who smoked, especially in public. In fact, I tended to avoid drugs altogether, not out of any sense of purity, but simply because most don't work, considering the speed my body can expel toxins. As a result, I don't get drunk. It takes a massive amount of alcohol to even remotely impair my abilities, and much more forces my body to go into shutdown while it processes the toxins. Caffeine still works, as do most other stimulants. In all honesty, it's probably a good thing. If I didn't have this ridiculously high resistance to depressants, I would be an alcoholic and likely dead as a result. Then again, going to die pretty soon anyway, so I hardly could have ruined my future with drugs. I didn't have a future. “Hey.” I gruff voice called. Sounded like a smoker. Very croaky. I looked up. It was the shady guy with the phone. “Got a light?” He asked, proffering a cigarette. I pulled the FAMAS off my back and said, “If you feel like sticking it next to the muzzle and firing, sure. Otherwise, can't help you mate.” He raised an eyebrow. I noticed he didn't seem that afraid of the loaded rifle I was waving around. “Well, that's rather brazen of you. Donchu think you might want to keep it a little more... hidden?” I shrugged and slung it back around. “I'm planning on using it, not selling it.” “That's a shame. Greenback can always use some more firepower.” The man said, placing his cigarette back in its box. “That being said though, we can always use a skilled man to rid us of undesirables.” “Greenback?” I asked with detached amusement. “Sounds like a mob boss.” “I believe she prefers the term 'intelligent businesswoman'.” The man said with a knowing smile. “And I think she'd rather you never use anything else, lest you find yourself in an unfortunate accident.” I groaned. “Typical. So uh, she know anybody who can fix you up without needing to know your name? My friend,” I gestured to Shyv, “and I have been roughed up a little recently. I'd rather know if I'm bleeding internally or not, you know?” The man nodded thoughtfully. “Mmm. There are a few here and there. How urgent?” I took a deep breath and the pain in my chest flared up again. “Sooner rather than later I think.” “A'ight. Hope you have a bit of money on you.” I grimaced. “'Fraid not. Might have to owe you one. I'll be alright to uh... run an errand or two once I'm fixed up.” The man sighed. “Well, I'll take you to her anyway. You might be able to sort something out, no?” I stood up and held out my hand. “Thanks for your help.” He looked down at it and smirked. “I think you'll find I'm going to be calling in that favor rather quickly. So don't thank me just yet, hmm?” I shrugged. “Suit yourself. Come on Shyv. Lets go get fixed up.” She nodded, giving the man a suspicious look before standing up and following us. Once the guy was a few steps ahead, she whispered in my ear, “I dunno about this guy. He seems kinda… off.” “Yeah, that's probably because he's a member of the local mafia. Not sure if they're just a street gang or what, but for now we should be alright anyway.” I replied in the same hushed tone. “If he tries anything funny I'll slaughter him. If not though, this might be a good opportunity.” She grimaced. “I'm still not comfortable with it.” I did my best to smile reassuringly. Which isn't much. “Neither am I, and I've hung out with people like this for the past two or three years. We'll be fine.” “Cute name, Shyv.” The guy said offhandedly. “Bet you think it sounds tough.” “Eh?” Shyv said, confused. “Not really.” “How'd you get it? Shank someone in prison?” The guy asked, making a stabbing motion to punctuate the 'shank'. She blinked. “I've never been to prison. It's short for Shyvanna.” The guy laughed unpleasantly. “What's that? Russian or something?” “It's Drangleic.” Shyv replied, bemused. “Drangleic?” The guy laughed even louder. “What is wrong with your parents?” Shyv frowned and didn't reply. “I'd rather you didn't make fun of my friend.” I said threateningly. “Lest you find yourself in an... unfortunate accident.” The man let out another short bark of laughter. “Well played.” “Okay, so he's also a creep. Just deal with it until we can make sure we're alright.” I muttered, leaning close to Shyvanna's ear. She nodded, but I noticed she wrapped her arms around herself, despite the warm morning. The man led us to a nearby apartment block, up several flights of stairs and to a door labeled 17. It had peeling yellow paint and the seven was coming loose. I frowned, but I knew that appearances tended to be deceiving. The guy knocked smartly three times. “Coming!” A girl's voice called from inside. After a few second of waiting, a woman in her early thirties opened the door, wearing a dark red blouse and black pants. She smiled warmly. “What can I do for you today?” “Hi Liz.” The guy said. “Got a couple of customers for you.” She raised an eyebrow at us. “End up in a brawl? Someone chasing you down? What's up?” “Car crash.” I said. “Think I may have punctured a lung. Not sure though.” She opened the door wider and stepped to the side. “Come in and I'll see what I can do.” We stepped inside and, as I thought, the interior was far more tastefully decorated than the exterior. The walls were a clean white, with a few sporadic paintings and photos placed strategically about the place. Most of the décor was very clean and modern. Liz led us to the living room, which contained a pair of gray couches, a glass coffee table and a huge plasma tv. “Make yourselves comfortable.” Liz said, gesturing to the couches. “I'll only be a second.” I took a seat and smiled. “Nice place she's got here.” The guy sat down opposite me and said, “Yeah. When she's not fixing people up, Liz is a home decorator.” “You mean interior designer.” I corrected. The guy shrugged. “Same difference.” “Fucking Christ.” I muttered under my breath. “I can't help but agree.” Melody said. “There's quite the difference between interior design and, ugh, home decoration.” The guy jumped to his feet and reflexively put his hand inside his jacket, probably to draw a gun. “Who said that?” “Me, you dolt.” Melody snapped. I drew her out with a sigh. “Can you not talk when other people are around please? It leads to awkward questions.” “Then learn to deal with them.” She snorted. “Not my monkey, not my circus.” I rolled my eyes. “Sounds like something Applejack would say.” “Don't compare me to a talking farm pony.” “Then don't fucking talk.” I said brightly, before thrusting her back into my pocket. “What the hell was that?” The guy asked, withdrawing his hand from his jacket. “Some sort of AI?” I sighed. “Artificial certainly, dunno about intelligent.” “Says the overgrown monkey.” Melody sniped. “Shuddap.” The man sat down again, eying me warily. “I thought AI of that caliber were only just being developed. Where the hell did you get one?” I waved a hand dismissively. “You wouldn't believe me if I told you.” Liz poked her head around the door. “Everything alright in here?” “Yeah, don't worry about it.” I replied. Her eyes flicked between the three of us. “Well, I'm not fixing you up if you start a fight in my home. That goes for you too, Connor. Who wants to be first?” I looked up at Shyv, who was standing awkwardly next to me. “You want to?” “Sure.” Liz smiled again. She did that a lot. “Alright then. Follow me.” “Oh, and by the way...” I interrupted, before Liz could leave. “Yes?” “Don't steal any of our organs. Thank you.” She laughed. “Now why would I do that? I have a reputation to uphold.” I shrugged. “Last guy I asked didn't. Just covering my bases.” “Fair enough.” She beckoned Shyv over. “Well then Miss, if you'd follow me...” Shady guy sat forward with a grin on his face. “So, what organs are you missing? What'd they steal? Your kidneys?” “They stole my heart.” The guy was about to speak, but I cut him off. “Literally.” “I find that somewhat hard to believe.” The guy said. “That's what their expression said when they were bleeding out on the floor too.” I deadpanned. The guy rolled his eyes. “I'm sure.” I shrugged. “Try shooting me then. I promise it won't turn out well for you.” The guy laughed. “You're right about that. I don't want a scalpel in my eye for getting blood on the upholstery.” I jabbed a thumb in Liz's direction. “She'd do that?” “She carved someone up with a chainsaw for scratching the couch. So yes.” I grimaced. “I know from experience that's difficult to do. She must've really hated them.” “Yeah she did. Which is the only reason I think I'd be saved from such a gruesome fate.” With a shrug, I fell back into silence. “So, what do you do then?” Shady guy asked. “I call myself an assassin, but I do some other stuff here and there as well.” I replied nonchalantly. “An assassin huh? How good are you?” I smirked. “Depends who you ask. I have a one-hundred percent success rate in my own eyes.” He raised an eyebrow. “And that means?” “I've never failed at getting what I want out of a deal.” We both laughed, which scared me a little. “Alright then, I'll bite. Say I tell you to kill someone, how would you go about it?” “Such as who?” I asked. “I take a different approach depending on who my target is.” “Let's say...” He thought for a second. “The prime-minister.” “Which is who at the moment?” “You don't know?” With a sigh, I said, “I've been out of country for a while as it were. I'm not sure what's changed.” “Well, ever since Tony was kicked out in twenty-sixteen, I think it's been... Uh...” He paused and scratched his head. “Tell you the truth, I dunno either. They're all equally silly.” “Amen.” I muttered. “Alright, I guess I'd get Joel to do this one. He could probably easily snipe them.” “Joel?” “My partner in crime. He takes care of anything outside of knife range.” I replied. “He's probably the reason I'm still alive and, indeed, in business.” Shady guy cocked his head curiously. “What, can't you use a gun? Why are you carrying one then?” At its mention, I brushed my hand against the stock of the FAMAS, checking it was still there. “I can, but I tend to be more of the crowd control type. Joel picks off single targets, I lay waste to rooms of people.” “Then what's this about 'outside of knife range'? You do carry quite the pair.” This guy asks too many questions. I was starting to get suspicious, so I didn't give him an entirely honest answer. “They're scary, don't waste ammo, don't jam and tend to make people with guns over-confident. The 'outside of knife range' thing was a figure of speech. It just kinda feels that way when the other guy in your team can hit someone from half a kilometer away.” The guy nodded knowingly. “I understand. So if he wasn't around, how would you do it?” I frowned and thought for a moment. There were a number of different infiltration strategies I could use. This wasn't exactly America, where everyone and their mother carried assault rifles and could shoot you down at a moments notice. Besides, it wasn't like the prime-minister traveled around with snipers all the time. “Honestly, unless anything has changed in the past few years, I'd probably just walk up to their front door, blow it down, and kill everyone in the house.” “Even the children?” “Especially the children. They grow up and kill you later.” I said. “Not to mention not having parents sucks. I know from experience.” The guy clicked his tongue. “Well, that makes you more of a hit-man than an assassin.” “I honestly don't give a fuck. I kill people and get paid. That's my job.” I shrugged. “Besides, 'assassin' sorta rolls off the tongue, you know?” He waved his hand dismissively. “Whatever. I can't imagine you make much money from that, you'd spend so much on covering your tracks.” “I tend not to bother. Once the police know they aren't going to take you down, they stop trying.” He looked at me sceptically in response. “Look, when a swat team comes knocking on your door and you kill them all before dumping their corpses onto the NYPD's doorstep, they take the smart decision and don't waste any more lives.” I said matter-of-factly. “You talk big.” He frowned. “I can't say I'm a fan of that.” “I'm not a fan of arrogant people either, but I'm not one to downplay my achievements.” I popped my knuckles. “Tell you what, we can have a bet. State some terms.” He grinned. “Now you're talking. I challenge you to take down three people with guns.” I rolled my eyes. “Easy as pie.” He held up a finger. “Uh-uh-uh. Without using a gun yourself.” I faked looking worried. “And what do I get if I win?” “I'll pay for your medical bills. Now and after the fight.” “So live ammo then?” I asked. He shook his head. “Too expensive to waste on this. We'll use paintball guns.” “So what happens if I lose?” He shrugged. “I get entertainment and you have to pay me back for the paintballs. And your own bills.” Not like I have anything to lose then. “Alright, sounds good to me. When and where?” “I'll see if I can rustle up some friends and we can do it this afternoon. I'll choose a place. You got a phone I can contact you on?” “Nope.” “Good. At least you're smart enough to not keep a tracking device on your person.” “Actually, my phone's kinda in another country. I don't take it on jobs and-” I cut myself off. “You know what? It's a long story that I'm sure you won't believe.” He sniffed. “Probably not, if it's less believable than the things you've already told me.” “It certainly is.” Understatement of the fucking century. “I'll just not ask then.” He said. I put up a hand as I realized something. “So, how are you going to contact me?” He shrugged. “Email? Skype? I dunno, what've you got?” “Man, I live on skype.” I said with a smile. “Email's probably better though. Nobody can spy on it. Programmed it myself.” “You know coding?” He asked, surprised. “Scripting technically, but yeah, I know a bit.” I switched topics back to the matter at hand, pulling out Melody and unlocking her without looking. “So, email.” “Right.” Shady guy took out his own phone and waited for it to turn on. “Do you mind?” Melody grumbled. “My screen is very sensitive.” I rolled my eyes. “No shit. That's how it works. It's a touch screen.” “You don't have to press that hard though.” She said indignantly. “That's what she said!” Shady guy said, shooting me with akimbo finger guns. “You just had to make it weird.” I muttered, pinching the bridge of my nose. He laughed. “Like a talking iPod wasn't to begin with.” With as much fake drama as possible, I stared off into the distance and said, “Compared to the shit I've seen, this is nothing.” It was true, but I barely believed it myself. “Whatever you say, drama queen.” The guy tapped something into his phone. “Alright, what's your email?” I spelled out the address and he typed it in. “It might seem a bit weird, but it'll work.” He nodded. “Alright, that's that.” We fell into silence for a few minutes before the door opened and Liz stepped out. “Hey, can I speak to you for a minute?” I stood up. “Me? What's the problem?” “Who else would I be talking to? Connor?” She beckoned me over. “I'll tell you in a second. Follow me.” She led me into a back room that was somewhat reminiscent of a clinic, but with more tasteful design. There was a raised hospital bed in the corner, a few cabinets, a desk with a computer and a very comfortable looking office chair that had a large red couch beside it. Shyv was sitting on it, looking relatively at-ease. I sat down beside her. “You alright?” I asked, quickly flicking my eyes over her to make sure she wasn't hurt. She smiled reassuringly. “I'm fine. I think.” Liz sat down and spun her chair to face us. “She doesn't seem to be hurt. A bit of bruising around the abdomen, but it'll clear up within a few days. There was something I wanted to talk to you about though. Are you aware that she has a line of scales on her spine?” I nodded in confirmation. She breathed out slowly. “Okay. I noticed a number of other anatomical anomalies, which makes me think that she is not entirely human.” “You know, I am in the room right now...” Shyv muttered. “Did you tell her you were a half-dragon?” I asked her. “I did, not that she believed me.” “Obviously.” I turned my attention back to Liz. “Yes, I am aware she is not entirely human. Technically she doesn't even belong in this world or this form. It's a long story.” “Yes. She told me a bit. I wasn't sure of her mental state, so I decided to ask you for confirmation.” Liz said. I nodded. “Alright, but she's fine?” “As far as I can tell.” She turned and addressed Shyv directly. “If you start feeling any sharp pains, especially around the abdominal area, come back and see me.” Shyv nodded. “Should I go wait outside?” “I would prefer it if you would.” Liz said. “It helps me focus.” Shyv nodded again and left. “Now then, do you feel any pain?” Liz asked, turning back to me. I prodded my chest and stomach, wincing slightly. “Yeah. Lower chest, mostly. Really sharp pain. I've also been having trouble breathing.” “Alright,” She gestured towards the hospital bed, “Take off your coat and lie down.” I doffed my coat, along with it's various contents. It was a good five to ten kilos, factoring in the FAMAS, knives and other crap I carried around with me, so it was a literal weight off my shoulders. That being said, I instantly felt extremely vulnerable without it. Casting away the feeling, I lay down. “From what you've described, you may have a pneumothorax, almost certainly a broken rib or two.” Liz said, walking over and pulling my shirt up so she could inspect the area. I could see her visibly wince as she did so. “A pneumothorax is a pocket of air trapped between the lungs and ribcage by the way.” “Lemme guess, doesn't look to great?” I asked cheerfully. She gave me a strange look. “Have you eaten anything odd recently?” “Well, I haven't eaten at all for several hours.” I replied. “So no. Unless you're talking further back than that.” She looked sick. Which, considering she was an underground doctor, was very disturbing indeed. “I think you might want to take a look.” I braced myself and looked down. “Well. That's interesting.” My torso was writhing. Well, something under the skin was writhing, and I had a pretty good idea what. “Looks like magical skin tentacles are still doing their job.” “You aren't human either, are you?” Liz asked, deadpan. I laughed bitterly, surprising myself. “I cling onto what's left of my humanity. But not entirely I don't think, not anymore.” She had controlled her face now, looking unnaturally neutral. It didn't suit her. “Are you sure that this isn't the problem?” I nodded. “They've healed my wounds in the past. Whatever 'they' are.” “You don't know?” I shrugged. “Not a clue. They just showed up one day.” Liz breathed out ponderously, thinking. “I can still try to figure out if you have internal damage, but it'll be a lot more difficult.” “And if I do?” She sighed. “I can do an X-ray? I honestly don't know. Really, all I can do is administer painkillers.” I groaned. “Oh, great.” She raised her hands helplessly. “I'm sorry I can't do more.” “You can't even do that.” I said flatly. “I'm practically immune to painkillers and other depressants.” “So I can't operate if need be?” I shrugged. “Been through worse without painkillers. When I was fifteen. Literal brain surgery. And other things. But my brain wasn't in my body for that.” “What?” I waved my hand. “Nevermind. I ramble.” “You are a curious man indeed.” She said, cocking her head. After a few seconds of staring into space, she clapped her hands and walked back to her computer. “Well, there's not much I can do then. Try not to do anything too strenuous-” I snorted. “and keep breathing as fully as possible. It should heal itself with time.” She finished. I sat up and smoothed my shirt down, feeling the tentacles inside me squirm a little. I shuddered. “Thanks for your help.” She nodded. “It doesn't come free though. I've got to make a living somehow.” I grimaced. “And I don't have anything to pay you with, unless you want a gun.” I rifled through the pockets of my coat. “Some gum? A pair of blades from a modified motorcycle?” My hand closed around a smooth, flat plate. I pulled it out. “A dragon scale apparently. Didn't know I still had a few of these.” Liz looked on with detached amusement. “I need money, not shiny baubles.” I rolled my eyes and shoved everything back inside my coat before donning it again. “Well, can't do much for you then. I'll have to owe you.” She shrugged. “Someone's gotta pay. If not you, then Connor.” “Ah!” I exclaimed. “I had a bet with him. He'd pay for my medical bills if I managed to to beat him in a paintball duel.” “Sounds like him.” Liz sighed. “Let me guess, he didn't want to use live ammo because it's too expensive?” “Yeah.” I cocked my head. “How'd you know?” She laughed quietly. “I swear, the amount of money I've made treating those 'paintball' wounds. Trust me, whatever he says, you don't want to be hit by one of those.” “Duly noted.” I said, cracking my knuckles. “Now then, I should go get prepared to win this bet so I can pay you back.” Back in Equestria I kicked back in the small treehouse we had found. It looked vaguely familiar, with banners depicting a rearing pony on a shield all over the place. Regardless, it was extremely well built, with a solid set of stairs and all. “Nice place they've got here.” Vi commented, lying down opposite me. “Hope they don't mind if we hang about for a bit.” “I can just turn invisible if they take exception to it.” I said, bringing my AWP onto my lap so I could clean it. It had been getting plenty dirty recently with our constant trekking through the forest. Vi looked around curiously. “Very well built place though.” She gestured to the ceiling. “One of the princesses could stand upright in here without hitting their head on the roof.” I slid out the bolt and cut a small strip off my suit sleeve to clean it off with. “In all honesty, I don't really care where it came from. They have beanbags and that's all I need.” Vi laughed. “I've certainly stayed in much worse.” I inserted the strip into the firing assembly and held my sleeve over it, watching as it lashed out and reattached itself, carrying a few fragments of dirt and mud with it. “I miss my old apartment though. Living in a library has certainly been an experience, but it's just not the same.” “You're right about that; I miss my hive.” Vi said with a nostalgic sigh. I repeated the cleaning process. “Wards is so attached to the place though, and it's not like we have anywhere else to go.” “Well, you don't.” Vi corrected. “But we spend most of our time walking around anyway, so it doesn't really matter that much.” I shrugged. “Still miss the apartment. Haven't slept on a real bed in months now.” “Speaking of which, you owe me a story.” I did my best to clean the bolt and inserted it back into the gun. “How'd you get that out of a discussion about sleeping arrangements?” “Stop procrastinating.” Vi placed her cheeks on her hoofs and buzzed her wings eagerly. “I've been curious about this for ages.” I sniffed, racked the bolt a couple of times to make sure it was working smoothly, and placed the AWP by my side. “Who am I to disappoint then?” I gathered my thoughts for a moment. “I'm not as dramatic as Wards is, so I'll begin by saying I honestly haven't had the best of lives. But it's certainly not over yet, and it's been far from the worst I could have had...” When I was younger, I moved all over the place. I spent the first few years of my life in Brisbane, same as Edward. I ended up in Perth over on the opposite side of the country for a year or two, before coming back to Brisbane again. Then New Zealand for quite some time, where I met Dan and Cameron. I did like NZ; it was nice and cool. Came back to Brisbane again, a year or so before Wardo disappeared. Around the same time he did, things started getting really strange around where I lived. Shady types hanging about. I saw a couple of them loitering near a store down the road from my house. Usually it would've been nothing; there's no shortage of sketchy people in the world, but I distinctly noticed the pair was wearing green scarves. That alone seemed a bit off. I had barely seen anybody wear scarves before in Australia, let alone in the middle of spring. It was twenty-something degrees, so there was no practical reason I could see for them having them. After I noticed that, I started seeing the scarves everywhere. A stranger on the street with a duffel bag. Some of the more troublesome kids at school. A pair sitting on a bench. A man riding past on a motorcycle. I saw a lot of those actually. Loads of the scarf wearing guys using motorbikes. Or maybe I just didn't see them when they were in cars. I started thinking they were some sort of gang. Spoilers, I was right. About a year passed before I found out for sure though. Wards had already been presumed dead by this point, along with his family. “Hold up.” Vi interrupted. “His family?” I nodded sadly. “Yeah. They were killed when an assassin tracked him down. I guess he hasn't told you yet. Guy still has nightmares about it. Not that he'll admit it, but I hear him muttering in his sleep sometimes.” “Sounds like him. Anyway, continue. I'll ask him about it later.” “Where was I?” I said to myself. “Finding out about the gang. That's right.” So, I think it happened pretty late on in grade 11. September or so. I was going to head down to the bus stop to go home, but I got distracted by something back at school. Don't really remember what. I might have wanted to talk to one of the teachers. Anyway, I started heading down to the bus late when I noticed a couple of guys, just a bit older than me, loitering nearby. Both wearing the scarves. After they noticed me looking at them, they beckoned me over. “Hey, what are you doing back so late?” One asked, hands in his pockets. I looked at them suspiciously, but I didn't see any reason to lie. “Just had some stuff to take care of with my english assignment. Why do you ask?” The guy who hadn't spoken gave the other one a look. He nodded and took his hands out of his pockets. I flicked my eyes towards them and noticed the glint of steel an instant before he had a knife at my throat. “No speaking. Don't move unless I tell you to, assuming you don't want to be gutted like a fish.” He said quietly. Because you're really going to be trying to gut me with a knife at my throat. Still, I obliged, strangely enough. Knife guy walked around behind me, keeping the blade only centimeters from cutting flesh. At least he didn't dig it in. He rested his arm around my shoulders and hid the blade under my collar. Surprisingly smart really. Made it look like I was a friend of his, instead of a hostage. “Follow my friend over there.” He said, gesturing subtly with the knife. “Try to run and I'll hamstring you.” I rolled my eyes, not that he could see. The other guy turned around and retreated into the alley. I took a tentative step forward, keeping my face as far from the knife as possible. Granted, that was only an inch, but it felt like miles. “I can vouch for that. A blade at your throat isn't the greatest feeling in the world.” Vi commented. “Since when have you had a knife at your throat?” I asked. “Not a knife. Calvary sword, back when we invaded Canterlot. One of the royal guard tried to take me hostage to bargain. Didn't work out too well for him. Didn't work out too well for me either really.” She replied, with a thoughtful look. “Ended up with slash wounds all over my chest and magic burns across my side. If it wasn't for my carapace, I would have been done for. At the time, I was pretty confident I was. That spelled the end of my involvement in the war until it was time to retreat.” Vi sighed. “But this is your story time, not mine.” “We can trade if you want.” I said with a shrug. She looked sullenly at the floor. “I'd rather not, to be honest.” I shrugged. “Fair enough. No point bringing back bad memories for my sake.” “Being kidnapped isn't a bad memory for you?” Vi asked sceptically. “Not something I want to go through every day, but in comparison to some of the other things I've seen and done, it wasn't that bad.” I replied. “Now then.” I rhythmically tapped one of the Glocks against my thigh, in an effort to help me remember what I was talking about. It had been a while ago. Basically, the guys took me through some back streets and led me to a car. Now, this is where things start to get interesting. It was quite a nice car. Expensive, tinted windows, shiny black. The guy in the lead opened the door and my new friend with the knife shoved me inside, sitting down next to me and keeping the knife at my throat. “Hey boss, got you a new guy. Looks about thirteen or fourteen, like you wanted.” I was sixteen. I was also wondering how long it would take to burn this guy's eyes out. A hand reached up from the driver's seat and adjusted the rearview mirror. I caught a glimpse of mirror sunglasses before I was shoved behind the seat. “I told you idiots to recruit, not kidnap. Put that fucking knife away.” Deep voice, sounded like a man in his late twenties to thirties. Sounded like a smoker, although I couldn't smell cigarettes. I found out later that he had only smoked once in his life, the voice came from the fact he was born with a hole in his throat that had to be sewn up when he was a baby. Knife guy flicked his knife closed and became regular thug once again. “You said 'Get us a kid who's willing to do us some dirty work. Younger than fifteen should do it, but not too young.' You never fucking said we needed to recruit them.” The man in the front sighed. “I bet you don't even know what 'willing' means. Fucking moron.” “You wanna say that to my face, shit-for-brains?” I heard a sound which I identified as a pistol being cocked. “You want me to say it with a gun to your head? I don't pay you to give lip, so shut your goddamn mouth.” “Yes sir.” No-longer-holding-knife guy muttered. “There you go.” Sunglasses said cheerfully. “Now, kid, sorry that we might've started out on the wrong foot. You can call me Connor. Since you've landed in my lap, willing or not, I'm going to make you a proposal. Lots of money in it for you.” “Considering the gun you have up front, I'm guessing it's neither safe nor legal?” I replied. “Safe, certainly. About as dangerous as being a paperboy. Legal, ehhhhh. Not exactly.” I clicked my tongue, thinking. “Am I even allowed to say 'no'?” “Certainly, we'll let you go and you can forget this ever happened. Unlike the idiot sitting next to you, I realize keeping unwilling employees around is bad for business. That being said though, if I hear you've snitched, I will personally throw your corpse in a dumpster. Probably after I've shot you in the head.” “Duly noted.” I tried to stay nonchalant, but it's not exactly easy when there's someone threatening you with being shot in the head. Especially if that someone will probably do it. “Wonderful. So will you help us out?” I took a deep breath to calm my nerves and carefully said, “At the moment, if I say yes, it will be a leap of faith. I want to know exactly what I'm getting into. Furthermore, I want to know what I will get out of it. If neither of those satisfy me, I'm going to walk away.” “Fair enough kid. Spoken like a true businessman.” Connor paused for a moment, rhythmically drumming his fingers against the dash as he thought. “What you're going to be doing is deliveries. Mostly drugs; weed, cocaine, heroin, et cetera. Might get you to run a few other things around too. We'll pay you well, and the only thing you're going to need to worry about is being picked up for being in the possession of illegal substances.” “And drug addicts.” “Kid, the real deal is nothing like what you see on TV.” He said, chuckling slightly. “Chances are, most'll just be some guys and gals in their thirties. You'll be fine.” I sighed. “Alright. How will this work then?” “You'll do it?” Connor sounded a little surprised. “Still thinking it over, but I'm leaning towards no more so than yes at the moment.” I replied. “I do still have school to think about, and I'd rather not ruin my life for getting picked up with drugs.” “Trust me, heck of a lot less likely to ruin your life at your age than mine. I could be picked up for several years, maybe even life. Worst you'll get is probably a year.” He said. “To answer your question, we'll leave a bag in a certain location, which I'm not going to tell you until you accept the job, filled with packages. Each will have an address. We'll start you off with some of the less extreme stuff in the local neighborhood. You do well, you get jobs that go further out and much better pay. When you're done, you drop the bag off again.” “When will this be?” “Weekends probably. We have a couple who run after school, but most prefer the weekends.” I nodded slowly. “I'll do it, on one condition.” “Going to be a real handful, aren't ya?” Connor muttered. I ignored the comment. “I want to try this for a month or so, and if it's not working out, I want to be able to get out.” He sighed and drummed his fingers on the dash again. “I suppose I can’t really blame you for wanting to keep your options open. Fine. Just remember, there’s a difference between not having to work for us anymore and snitching, mmm?” “Lemme guess, the bullet in the brain?” I asked rhetorically. Connor laughed. “Spot on. ‘Least you got a sense of humor.” Keeps your mind off the fact you’re in a car with a murderer. “Can I go now?” Connor raised a hand in farewell. “We’ll be in touch.” I sat back and sighed. “That was my first meeting with the Local Bomb Squad. They were a strange lot. The gang started with a few friends in college and ended up being one of the largest crime syndicates in Australia. Most people ended up calling them ‘Green Scarves’ or just ‘The Greens’, so they eventually adopted that.” “You joined the gang?” Vi asked. “Yeah.” I cocked my head. “Is that strange?” She shrugged. “I didn’t really peg you for the gangster type. I thought you would gun them all down or something.” “For a start, the only reason I do that these days is because Wards pisses someone off and I end up having to bail him out.” I replied. “Believe it or not, I go for a peaceful resolution when I can. I wasn’t a trained assassin at that point in my life anyway. Being part of a gang was what started me off actually. I can skip most of the drug peddling stuff, it basically just amounted to taking buses around the place and talking to people. Had no problems until after I’d been doing it for around half a year.” Connor was leaning casually against a wall, wearing mirrored shades and a green silk scarf as always, despite it being 2:00 in the morning. Not to mention we were inside a train station. He handed me a duffel bag and said, “Just the one delivery this time. Lots of product to one guy. Real high quality. Real expensive. Don’t lose it.” “Haven’t lost any before. Not planning to today.” I replied, slinging the bag over my shoulder. “You’ve done good work for us in the past, so we’ll be trusting you with bigger jobs from now on. Don’t dissapoint.” He patted my shoulder once before turning and walking off into the night. I pulled my own scarf up over my chin and unzipped the bag. There was a sticker with an address on it, stuck to one of around twenty plastic-wrapped packages. I pulled out my phone and typed the address into google maps. Turns out it was quite a ways away. With a weary sigh, I zipped the bag up and checked the time-table behind me. Connor was a bit of a douche. He liked fucking with people. Turns out the last train to go where I wanted to go had left only a minute or two ago, so I had to wait another half-hour for the next one. Which meant standing in a deserted train platform at two in the more morning with a bag full of drugs. Not the most pleasant experience. The train finally came. Someone had sprayed ‘fuck yourself’ in red paint on the carriage closest to me. “Wonderful.” I muttered, stepping on. The train was just as empty as the station. I sat down, placing the bag on the seat beside me. Usually train rides are boring. Yet, despite not sleeping for almost an entire day straight, I was wide awake. As I said, I had been doing this sort of thing for quite some time, but never this late at night, and never this far away. The area I was headed to wasn’t known for being the safest either. Thus the reason I jerkily glanced around the carriage, my heart beating a thousand times a minute. When I finally reached the Loganlea station, I sprinted all the way to the delivery address, wanting to get the job over as soon as possible. It was in a large factory or warehouse looking area, with quite a large number of tanks lined up to the side. I ducked between them and scanned the area. There were three men loitering around the warehouse entrance. Probably the customers. I unzipped the bag to double check that I hadn’t lost the drugs, despite not seeing anybody else since I’d gotten it from Connor. Once I was sure it was all there, I made my way towards the three men. In all honesty, I was scared. Much of my previous deliveries had been to households. Most of the people were decently friendly, or at silently paid up and took the package. I’d never been in a situation where I was met with more than one person, much less three in an area where they could easily kill me and dispose of the body. As I got closer, I noticed it was too dark to make out their faces, which put me on edge further. “Hello?” I called uncertainly. “You Connor’s runner?” One asked, stepping forward. He was wearing a hoodie and carried a flashlight. “Yes.” I replied, trying to keep my voice as even as possible. “Alright then, drop the bag on the ground and take a step back.” He said, clicking on the flashlight. I did as he said, unzipping the bag and placing it gently on the ground before taking an uncertain step back. The leader crouched down and inspected the contents, letting out a low whistle as he did so. “That’s quite a bit.” He looked up at me with a wolfish grin. “Don’t look so scared kid, we ain’t gonna hurt ya.” “So long as you don’t move a muscle that is.” One of the other men said, stepping forward and quickly pulling something out from his jacket. I found myself staring down the barrel of a suppressed pistol. With a painful gulp, I resisted the urge to turn and run as fast as my legs would take me. “What are you doing?” I asked, although I already knew the answer. The leader zipped up the bag and slung it over his shoulder. “Making a living. Nothing personal.” “Stay here. Don’t follow us. Don’t try to be a hero.” The man with the gun barked. “It’s not going to work out too well for you, savvy?” I nodded, not trusting my voice. “Good.” He kept the gun trained on me as the other two retreated around the back of the warehouse, before turning and making a break for it himself. I collapsed to the ground, heart pounding. I was alive. But I had lost the drugs. As I stared after the gunman’s retreating form, I came to a horrible realisation. I had lost the drugs. If I didn’t get them back, I was dead anyway.