Murder World- Kaiju Dawn Read online

“Sazhu.”

  Vincente released the comm button and looked over at Jasmine, who had already put her battle armor on beneath the designer blouse. She tucked a miniscule pistol into the small of her back, where a cleverly disguised holster lay. She grabbed two stun grenades and slipped the square explosives into pouches in her pants. She glanced at him and shrugged.

  “Always be prepared.”

  He shook his head. “I’m glad you are. I don’t think anything can prepare me for what’s going to happen next.”

  “Gee, boss, it’s almost like you’re expecting a fight.”

  “Oh, I know a fight’s going to happen,” he admitted. “I’m just hoping it doesn’t escalate.”

  “I promise to behave,” Jasmine said, “until someone pulls out a knife. Then I start killing people.”

  “Can’t ask for anything more than that,” he allowed.

  ****

  The duo stopped just outside the entrance to the brightly lit bar.

  “I can’t do this,” Vincente muttered. His eyes looked up and down the exterior of the building, drinking in the gaudy decor and twinkling neon lights. Pink storm shutters adorned the garishly green-painted walls, while two bright spotlights atop the roof shone constantly into the dark, cloudy sky, creating the illusion of a full moon. Horrid music emanated from within, a cacophony of noise and drums, which Vincente was able to identify as an interesting clash of blues and industrial styles of music. “We can hire someone else, right? Someone who doesn’t want to put a bullet in me. Or has already? Hell, we can do it ourselves, can’t we?”

  “You have to do this,” Jasmine reminded him. “I’m good, but we need meat shields. Big slabs of meat able to soak up a lot of gunfire for me. And you, lard butt. So get your besotted derrière inside and prepare to face the music.”

  “I’m still your boss,” Vincente sighed, “damn it.”

  He stepped forward and pushed through the windscreen, the small shield allowing them to enter while blocking out the outside elements and any small insects. Jasmine followed closely behind, staying slightly to his left, using her boss as cover while ensuring that she was able to watch his back at the same time. They both knew that there were people inside who would gladly see him dead.

  The bar was lively and loud, with an actual live band crooning the latest hit from a small stage in the corner. The main room of the bar was thick with smoke, and the retro lighting in the place made him feel as though he had stepped two thousand years into the past. The bar top was laminate glass, nearly indestructible, and there was more than enough space for Vincente and Jasmine to sidle up to the bar and order drinks.

  “Two fingers worth of scotch, neat,” he ordered. The bartender, a small, cute young woman who vaguely reminded Vincente of a vid star he had seen once, nodded and poured him a drink. He glanced over at Jasmine. “You getting anything?”

  “Nope,” she said as she glanced around the bar. “One of us needs to keep their head together.”

  “Hey! Liquid courage,” he said and slipped his cred card to the bartender. He leaned across the bar. “Get me a small tab running, will you? Stop it at thirty, please.”

  “Thirty, got it,” she nodded and took the card. She slipped it underneath the counter in front of him. “You look kinda familiar. Do I know you?”

  “Doubtful,” Vincente said. The woman had not been working at the bar the last time he had set foot in the place, but he could be wrong. Better not to take any chances. “Can you do me a favor?”

  “I’m not a working girl,” she said. He shook his head.

  “No, I’m not looking for that,” he explained. “Is Mooney here?”

  “Ms. Mooney? She’s always here, mister.”

  “Yeah, well,” Vincente cleared his throat, suddenly feeling very awkward. “Can you tell her that… a friend is here?”

  “She’s got a lot of friends, mister,” the bartender’s eyes narrowed. “Which one should I say is calling?”

  He took a deep breath. “Tell her Vincente is here.”

  The bartender’s eyes went round. “Oh!”

  The bar, which had been jovial and loud upon their entrance, was now quiet. He felt the atmosphere shift, and suddenly a burning desire to leave came over him. He glanced down at Jasmine, who was tense and nervous as well. There were times few and far between in which the diminutive pilot was worried in a place like this, and during those times, Vincente paid more attention to his surroundings.

  Fortunately for them, their would-be attackers were less than subtle.

  “Vincente Huerta,” a particularly vile looking fellow said as he backed away from the virtual gaming console, which was propped up against one of the walls. He turned and sauntered over to where Vincente and Jasmine stood. Behind him followed two larger men. He sneered as he drew closer. “I thought I smelled something foul.”

  “Naw, that’s just that hair lip of yours,” Vincente offered helpfully. Ignoring the ugly look that flashed across the man’s face, he continued. “You should get that waxed. I bet shaving is a bitch.”

  “That ain’t funny, fat man.”

  “Hey, you smelled something, and I was offering suggestions,” Vincente shrugged. He offered the man a smile. “Do I know you? You’d think I’d remember such an ugly mug, but age and alcohol have a funny way of messing up one’s memories.”

  “Captain…” Jasmine warned in a low voice.

  The leader of the trio looked at Jasmine and smirked. “Nice tits.”

  “Nice face,” she retorted, her face turning slightly red. People who did not know better might have assumed she was blushing. Vincente, though, had been around her long enough to recognize that reaction. She was annoyed, which was one step from angry. Vincente internally sighed. “Hate for something bad to happen to it,” she finished.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Vincente put all his weight into the haymaker and let loose, his clenched fist connecting solidly with the man’s eye. Something popped in his knuckle as he hit him, but Vincente was more than satisfied with the result as the other man stumbled back. A swift kick to his stomach and Vincente made sure that he was out of the fight.

  Unfortunately, that left his two larger friends still standing and very angry.

  Vincente grabbed a beer bottle from the bar top and slammed it against the temple of one of the men, who grunted but managed to stay upright. The bottle did not break, which caused Vincente to curse as reverberations from the impact numbed his hand slightly.

  “I hate these new laminate bottles!” he yelled as he was picked up by the second man and tossed on a table. He landed heavily, slid off the top and landed on two different men’s laps. All three of them tumbled over and landed heavily on the floor.

  Vincente picked himself up off the two men and dusted off his shirt. “Thanks for breaking my fall.”

  “Asshole!” one of them yelled, and promptly punched the man lying next to him in the mouth. He jerked a card out from his opponent’s sleeve. “You been cheating!”

  “Oh, for the love of…” Vincente muttered and all hell broke loose within the bar.

  “Damn it, Vincente!” Jasmine screamed as her hand flashed out and caught the unprotected throat of a drunk who had stumbled too close. He gagged as her strong hand drove into his larynx, nearly crushing the delicate bone. He stumbled to the ground, out of the fight. She drove her knee into the stomach of another man, and for good measure, smashed her elbow across his face, breaking his nose. She kicked him in the groin and let him fall to the floor. “Every. Goddamned. Time!”

  “I’m sorry!” Vincente called back as he slammed another beer bottle over the head of one of his attackers. This one broke, albeit reluctantly, but that was good enough for him. The man dropped like a felled ox. “I thought I was being polite!”

  Jasmine did not answer as she vaulted onto a table and kicked another full bottle of beer into the face of a man who was about the attack her captain from behind. He yowled loudly as the bottle b
roke his teeth and cut his lips. She dropped almost flat on her back as a knife swept through the air where her neck had been moments before and grabbed her new attacker by the belt. She used her momentum to bring her legs up and she quickly wrapped them around his neck. She twisted her thighs and felt a satisfying crunch as his neck broke. He fell and Jasmine landed on top of him, his large frame cushioning her fall. She rolled off to the side and narrowly dodged another beer bottle.

  “No knives!” she shouted and punched someone new in the face. Teeth flew. “A brawl doesn’t need knives!”

  “Chairs are okay,” Vincente added and swung the chair in his hands, breaking it on the back of a particularly large man. The man stood still for a moment before rising to his full height. He swiveled and looked at Vincente with his one good eye. Vincente groaned. “Sonofa–”

  The giant grabbed Vincente by the throat and tossed him across the bar, sending him through two tables and four men. Vincente landed heavily on the floor but managed to stagger back to his feet, his head swimming. He looked around and raised his fists, but nobody else moved closer.

  “C’mon, I’m just getting warmed up,” he said, staggering forward.”

  The fight ended as quickly as it began as a tall, thin figure walked out from the back room. Vincente’s eyes widened as he recognized the woman, and the weapon that she held in her hands.

  “Hello, darling,” a soft voice whispered before him as the barrel of a shotgun gleamed in the light of the room. “Never thought I’d see you around these parts again.”

  Chapter Three

  The bar was deathly quiet. Vincente peered through the smoke and haze and faintly recognized the owner of the bar standing in front of him. He wasn’t too certain, though. The last hit to the head had shaken some cobwebs loose.

  “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t blow your head off right now,” Mooney growled as she leveled the shotgun at him. Vincente raised his hands slowly into the air.

  He hadn’t been mistaken. It was a shame, really. He had been looking forward to living a long life.

  “You won’t ever get paid,” Jasmine squeaked from behind him. Mooney made a jerking motion with the shotgun.

  “Get out from back there, girl,” Mooney said. “I don’t want you to get blood on that pretty blouse.”

  “Thanks,” Jasmine said and slid out of the line of fire. “It’s a Don Capistrano.”

  “Oh, nice,” Mooney’s eyes went back to the blouse. “Where’d you get it from?”

  “Ezekiel Station just got a bunch in before we took our most recent job,” Jasmine said as she tugged the fabric a little. “Breathes well for when you’re on a ship, and is pretty good at repelling smells.”

  “Set you back some?”

  “I know a guy, so it wasn’t that bad,” Jasmine explained.

  “You and I should talk business some time. You seem to have connections everywhere.”

  “I’m a popular girl, what can I say?”

  “Excuse me?” Vincente waved a hand. “Can I say something?”

  “No,” both women replied at once.

  “He’s got the money to pay you back,” Jasmine said, once she was certain that Mooney wasn’t going to shoot her.

  “He does, does he?” Mooney looked over at Vincente, who offered her a rakish smile. She scoffed. “Don’t even try it. It looked good fifty pounds and fifteen years ago. Now it just looks like you have indigestion and an ulcer.”

  “Hey!”

  “He can pay half now, and the rest of what he owes you when he gets back from the job he was hired to do,” Jasmine offered.

  “People are dumb enough to hire this old drunk?”

  “Desperate enough, yeah.”

  “Oh, come on!” Vincente practically howled.

  “Fine,” Mooney sniffed and lowered the shotgun. “I want the hundred thousand you owe me now, and five percent of whatever you’re being paid.”

  “Are you out of your damned mind?”

  “Ten percent.”

  “Okay, okay, I’m sorry, five percent,” Vincente did some mental math in his head. “That’ll make you…fifty thousand credits wealthier.”

  “Bullshit,” Mooney laughed at him, “you’re a crook. You charged more than one million.”

  “You’re ruthless,” Vincente said. “Seventy-five thousand credits. That’s five percent of what I got.”

  “You lying to me?” Mooney waggled the shotgun. “I can always toughen our negotiations a bit.”

  “I’m not lying!” Vincente said. “I swear upon my mother’s grave.”

  “Your mother’s retired and on San Paul Prime,” Mooney pointed out. After a moment of consideration, she nodded. “Sounds good to me, though. But if I find out you’re lying to me…”

  “You’ll aim better,” Vincente nodded. “I get it.”

  “Now tell me why you’re destroying my bar,” Mooney demanded in a curt tone. “And also why you even bothered coming back?”

  “Well, I really wanted to pay you back the money I–”

  “Horse shit,” Mooney cut him off. “I can see the fear in your eyes. You didn’t want to come back here to see me. Now tell me the truth.”

  “I need mercs,” Vincente sighed. “About a dozen.”

  “For…?” she prodded.

  “A job.”

  “I figured that, moron,” Mooney scoffed. “For who?”

  “Can’t say.”

  “Government, eh? So that’s how you can pay me back,” Mooney nodded again and looked around. “Well, considering Jasmine probably crippled most of them, and killed their boss–”

  “He grabbed a knife!” Jasmine protested.

  “–your pickings are going to be a bit slim,” Mooney finished. “I can get you six, probably, of my own men. Don’t give me that look. I’ve hired better over the years. But they’re good. Mean, but professional. Mostly.”

  “How much?” Vincente asked.

  “Cover their ammo and equipment, and they’re yours for fifty grand a head.”

  “That’s extortion!” Vincente protested. “Fifteen, tops!”

  “Thirty.”

  “Too high. My profit margin’s already running thin, thanks to your five percent.”

  “Twenty-two, and that is my final offer.”

  “I can do that,” Vincente nodded. “Shouldn’t take more than two weeks, tops.”

  “Perfect,” she grinned. “Now that we have that out of the way, we need to have a long talk. Darling.”

  Vincente heaved a mighty sigh. He almost wished that she had shot him.

  ****

  “How’d it go?” Jasmine asked as Vincente came aboard the Fancy several hours later.

  “Like ice skating up hill in the middle of a Medusan summer,” he admitted. “That woman…”

  “I got the mercs settled in and assigned berthing areas,” Jasmine said as she handed over the ship’s manifest to him. “We have provisions and gear all locked down in the storage area. I just need to let them know the rules of the ship and we’ll be fine.”

  “Okay,” Vincente grunted.

  “I think we’re about ready,” Jasmine said.

  “Did you take care of pre-flight and get air clearance for departure?” He asked. Seeing her nod, he grunted. “Okay, take care of our guests. I’ll take us up into orbit, and then she’s your bird.”

  Jasmine nodded again and headed towards the berthing area of the Fancy, where the mercenaries were putting their personal gear away in their small cabins. She cleared her throat loudly, ignoring a few appraising looks and a wolf whistle.

  “Can I have your attention please?” she said. Once she was satisfied, she continued. “My name is Jasmine, and I’m the ship’s pilot. I have a few rules that need to be obeyed, so listen up.

  “First off, the engine room is off-limits. Our mechanic is skittish and peculiar, and hates dealing with people. Leave him alone, and he’ll leave you alone. If you go down there, I will not hold him accountable for what he mi
ght do to you. I doubt he’ll kill you, but he might hurt you. As I said, unpredictable. Plus, there are a ton of dangerous materials down there, including radioactive material. This ship is old, gentlemen, so please remember that.

  “Secondly, stay out of the cockpit. There are delicate instruments up there, and that’s my turf. I will hurt you if you go in there. That’s not a threat, so don’t roll your eyes at me, you overgrown lugheads. It’s a promise. You’ve seen what I can do, so don’t test it.

  “Lastly, this job is dangerous. I can’t go into specifics, due to who we’re working for, but I can tell you this is a search and recovery, with the primary objective being retrieval of a ship’s database. You’re hired as muscle to keep us safe while we’re on the planet. That’s all you need to focus on, and worry about. Any questions? No? Good. Get your stuff stowed away, and prepare for departure. We’ll be leaving in a bit.”

  She began to head back forward, but the mass of personal gear that the mercenaries had brought with them crowded the area. She waited for their nominal leader, Hector Cortez, to move a few things before she attempted to pass through the group again.

  “Nice ass, babe,” one of the mercs said as Jasmine walked near. “Name’s Yolo. I could do things to you that haven’t been written about yet.”

  “You don’t want to do that,” Jasmine said as she tried to work her way past the mercenary. Yolo’s massive frame, however, blocked her. She stopped and looked up at the giant man.

  “I got me a private cabin on this old tub,” Yolo said as he leered down at her. “You know that, so why try to act surprised? Why don’t we spend some downtime and get to know one another, eh?”

  “I have to drive the ship,” Jasmine said and offered the large mercenary a sweet, disarming smile. “And my cabin’s bigger, so please move.”

  Yolo put his hand on her shoulder. “C’mon, what’s the hurry? I–”

  Jasmine grabbed the mercenary’s wrist and twisted it behind his back. She threw him against the bulkhead with a surprising amount of force from someone so tiny, and drove her knee into the small of his back. Air whooshed out of him as she slammed his face two more times into the bulkhead before letting go and stepping away.