Carter’s Respite appeared from behind a grand old cumulonimbus, swinging along on its four great balloons with the wind which also pushed the titanic cloud that spat out rain, lighting and thunder at its base.

  Julius watched as two very small bolts of lightning leapt from the edge of the cloud tower and struck one of the several galvanised copper pylons that extended from the edge of the Respite. The pylon glowed a momentary red before returning to its subdued brown and grey, with the electricity sent through the wiring and towards the Respite’s energy core.

  Carter had rebuilt the outpost from the ruins of a derelict way-station. A few years ago, it had been raided by pirates and a vicious pitched battle began, between the raiders and a group of garrisoned sailors who had chosen that day and time to rest there. The way-station was shot to hell and most of the combatants died, leaving the sailors as the winners only by sheer attrition. The way-station was abandoned soon afterwards and left to rot on its two ragged hydrogen balloons and a barely functioning undercarriage propulsion jet system. It floated listlessly over the Pacific and the American Wastes before being caught in an unending spin around the very same cumulonimbus still serving as its source of water and electricity.

  That was when Carter Pearson, ever the ambitious entrepreneur - born and raised in the USA sector of Millenia City - came along and set up shop there, transforming the place into a flourishing bounty lodge for contractors like Julius to work from.

  Building from the flat iron floor and steel under-basin foundation of the way-station, the Respite was a two floor building now, with the ground floor acting as office, information bureau and bar. And the first floor served as a day-in-day-out hovel for contractors seeking momentary shelter. Of course, Julius never stayed longer than a day, Carter was known to charge extensively for rent when an occupant added a second day to their rest.

  Carter also had homegrown grass bought and laid down on the front yard of his building, even with a growing and bountiful apple tree to boot for aesthetic purposes. That was a sign to most in the world that he was a well-off individual. It was very tricky to get trees from the top four tiers of the capital. Carter must have come into some good money to afford the purchase, transfer and installation. Which meant more contractors would be here, eager to get paid. Which only meant…

  Julius wheeled the bike close around the Respite and he noted a few Tesla bikes parked on the extensive green veranda and one very small two-man airship moored in by a small steel dock that extended from the veranda. On the side of the airship, he could make out a name nailed in rusted brass: Hunter.

  “Competition.” He grunted to himself. He wondered if there was going to be any jobs left to take now. He turned the bike and guided it down slowly towards the veranda. He angled the bike to be in line with the platform, as it was not a stable structure. A gust of wind could easily tilt the surface, sending any landing airfarer careening off the edge.

  But with deft ease, he turned down the undercarriage’s propulsion booster by flicking down a series of ignition switches on the side of the pressure gauges, decreasing the altitude slowly. He kicked out the landing pads by pushing his boot against a red plastic-covered lever. Four iron rods with flat feet at the ends clanked outwards and landed on the grass with the bike’s wheels landing softly next to them.

  Twisting the iron key in the ignition killed the engine entirely. Unclipping the life-straps from himself, he climbed off and pulled away his flight cap and helmet, finally freeing his short brown hair. Then he turned off his gas tank and pulled if off, gasping in the fresh air instead of the stale oxygen he had to force himself to swallow. He rubbed his slightly tanned skin, bringing warmth back into his frozen cheeks and ears. He checked his chronometer’s reading for the time and altitude. It was 4:15pm now, so he was early and the Respite was sitting at a comfortable 6,000 feet, making the air breathable again.

  He sucked in a deep breath though his nose and out of his mouth happily. God, good air just tasted different.

  He stretched his arms and legs and back, feeling the clicks in all the right places. With that done, he pocketed his key and walked round to the rear of the bike and checked the steel compartment - the battery - that was locked in above the rear engine. He turned the outside latch and opened the door of the battery. Inside was his Tesla stone, suspended in a copper ring that hung on wires like a metal spiderweb. He reached in and lightly touched the stone. It was cold to the touch and no electricity was conducted through his insulated gloves. He clicked open the ring and took out the stone. The apple-sized stone glowed a vibrant blue in the centre, showing small crackles of electricity. He unzipped a side pocket on his air jacket, revealing a rubber inlay pocket in which he placed the stone.

  Now that his bike was unusable and therefore secured, he grabbed his pneumatic rifle on a shoulder strap, his revolver to be slotted into his belt holster and his steel cutlass sheathed in the scabbard from the bike’s baggage compartments until finally collecting his quarry in the wet bag. With all he needed on him, he marched down the veranda and towards the Respite.

  As he reached the door, it opened and two men stepped out. They were similarly dressed like him, both wearing thick coats and trousers, with their flight caps and helmets under their arms. Like Julius and most airfarers like him, the men’s skin were hue of bronze and red, tanned to sunburns by the constant exposure of the ball of fire. One of them held a sheet of paper with something written on it, he was reading it eagerly.

  “And that’s half ready just for taking on the job.” He said to his silent partner, who halted upon seeing Julius.

  “What-?” The man said, noting his colleague not moving. He glanced at Julius, who was standing by and waiting for them to pass. He stared for a moment at Julius before blinking away the evident surprise. But Julius noted that look before it could be hidden.

  “Who’re you?” The man asked him with some worry creeping in. An obvious attempt to play off his nervousness.

  Julius shrugged. “A passer-by.”

  “Yeah? You’re pretty young to be out here by your lonesome.”

  “I’m old enough.” Julies replied. Twenty-five years old was old enough in a young man’s profession like this. “Doubt to say the same for you.”

  The man cracked a smile. “Ha. Fair enough.” The man folded the paper quickly - too quickly in Julius’ opinion - and stuck out his hand. “Fredrick. This here’s my colleague, Darwin.”

  Darwin silently waggled his fingers at Fredrick in a deliberate way. Julius took a moment to realise that it was sign language.

  Fredrick read the fingers and then nodded with reply of twisting fingers. Darwin nodded back with a smile and walked past Julius, but not before sighting him with a sharp, hungry eye. Julius felt his nerves shake. He did not like that look.

  Julius felt himself take a step back, just so he could keep both men in his line of sight. There was something off about these two. He just couldn’t place it.

  Darwin approached the Hunter and climbed aboard and began to work setting up the windsails of its single mast. Fredrick sighed with some nervous energy.

  Julius noted that too. “You alright there?” He asked with a purposely neutral tone.

  “Hmm?” Fredrick smiled a little too wide. “It’s just we have a busy day ahead.”

  “I see…” Julius glanced down at the notice in Fredrick’s hand.

  Fredrick slowly put the paper into his jacket pocket and gave a nod to Julius. “Best of luck to ya, friend.” He said before walking past Julius and towards the Hunter to join Darwin, who had been watching Julius without doing anything else. Julius hoisted his rife slung over his shoulder, felt the trusty cutlass and revolver hanging by his waist and pushed inside, eager to get out of that man's unnerving sight.

  The lighting of the main lobby was a warm yellow and gold, with tinted windows taking most of the direct glare of the sun, but allowing swords of light to carve through parts of the dusty, darkened room. A series of dimmed lightbulbs linked by a single black wire, as they hung from parts of the ceiling with rickety lampshades, gave the musty hue of the lobby’s atmosphere. The wooden floorboards creaked from the weight of the people inside and the gabble of the patrons quelled a slight moment when Julius walked in.

  He stood there by the open door, cloth satchel beginning to soak badly. To his left was a large billboard with a few pamphlets thumbtacked to the cork cladding. Odd-jobs, contracts or newsletters from around the skies of the world. Aside from an actual news outlet, bounty lodges were the next best place for information on the goings-on throughout the Millennium World Government.

  He glanced down at the bag. He hoped it didn’t stain the wood. But Carter had cleaners, he’d had worse stains in a place like this. The smell of lobby was a rank mix of alcohol, sweat, wet floorboard and machine oil. The seven patrons, four of them sitting at a table with wooden or metal cups of drink with the other three stood by a countertop bar, were in mid-discussions before setting their eyes on him.

  The silence of the room was broken by the consistent music playing from the radio installed by the bar. A series of classical orchestral music, interspersed with more modern works and electro swing, dotted the air with fervent rhythm. If there was not any music playing, the atmosphere would have been quite tense. But the tension was still there, even with the music…

  “Hey, Danny!” Carter appeared from behind the door to a walled off area of the lobby, his office, and rushed over to Julius with wide and worried eyes. He was a short man with thick black hair that tied down to a ponytail and sideburns. His green waistcoat had buttons that were performing a Herculean labour of holding in his gut. His black pinstriped trousers, high-waisted and belted, were also attempting a Hail Mary to stay on his waist.

  He grabbed Julius’ free hand and shook it vigorously. “So lovely to see you! How’s everything with the family?”

  Julius blinked at Carter confusedly. He was opening his mouth to remind the loudmouthed connector that he had no family but Carter waved his hand, stopping him. “No need to answer! I must talk with you about a new business opportunity for your brother Mikey!”

  “Mikey?” Julius all but said before being dragged into Carter’s office. The seven people around the lobby in their huddled groups watched him as he headed inside.

  Carter closed the door behind him and the beaming smile immediately sagged as he let out a bitter sigh. “Christ… That was close.”

  Julius looked around the small office that Carter had designed. A row of filing cabinets lined the back wall and a wooden desk with two chairs was placed in the centre with an oil lamp balanced on a pile of dirty books. The ceiling fan spun quickly to combat the swelling heat that arose with two people being in the small room.

  On his left, Julius saw the typical warning poster stuck to the wall. A cartoonish man was smoking under a hydrogen balloon. But the artist had changed the cigarette the man held to a stick of dynamite with a lit fuse. The caption emblazoned in red above him read out: No Smoking! Hydrogen Burns! Risk a Smoke, Risk Your Life!

  Carter straightened up with a fake smile, headed to the windows and checked on the contractors outside. He smiled again as he gestured to one of the chairs at the desk.

  Julius sat down, placing the wet bag on the floor and the rifle next to it. But he kept his cutlass and gun close to his hands. Something was up. Since his meeting with the two strange contractors outside, his hackles were raised.

  “What the hell was that about?” He asked Carter, who still smiled for the contractors.

  He smiled through gritted teeth as he replied, “You’re in trouble, old boy.”

  “What do you mean? With them?” Julius thumbed towards the lobby.

  “Not just them, old boy.” Carter turned and waved his hands in an animated, jovial manner. Still keeping up the performance for the watchers. “Why didn’t you respond when I raised you on the communicater?” He demanded with a forced grin.

  “Ah.” Julius rubbed his eyes. “It got shot. One single bullet right through the circuits.”

  “Oh?” Carter cocked his head and looked at the wet bag by Julius’ feet. “His fault?”

  “Yep.” Julius patted the top of the bag. He looked up at Carter who gave him a frown. “What?”

  “Is that… his head?”

  “Oh, yeah.” Julius bent down to grab the bag and made to open it, but Carter waved his hand.

  “Jesus H. Christ, man!” He protested. “I trust you. Just- Just leave it there, I’ll pay you. God, a frickin’ head…”

  Julius shrugged and put the bag down. “You did say you wanted him dead or alive.”

  “God… So where’s his body? Should I even ask that?” Carter turned around and headed to the back of the office. He placed a hand on the end locker cabinet of the row and pulled it. It groaned as it swung on a hinge, revealing an iron safe embedded in the wall with a number lock system by the handle. Carter began to type a combination.

  “Destroyed.” Julius pulled off his gloves and began to pick the dirt under his nails. “Idiot put his bike into overdrive to get away, then blew himself up. His head was the least damaged part. Made sense at the time.”

  Carter finished the combination and turned the handle. The lock clicked open and Cater pulled open the safe. “Made sense to you… You have a warped mind, J.” He lifted out an envelope and handed it to Julius before closing up the safe and locking it.

  Julius nodded his thanks and opened the letter. Inside was an authenticated letter of approval, bill of services, a cheque signed in Carter’s name with the amount of 2,000 Pesos made out to him. Julius cracked a small smile as he closed up the letter and pocketed it in his jacket. A good amount, that would buy him ten radios if he wanted. After this meeting was done, he planned to fly off to the nearest Millenia bank - which would be above the European Plains by now - have the cheque accepted, cashed in and the money would be placed in his holdings. A few more jobs and he’d be able to retire. Just a few more jobs…

  Julius picked up the money bag and placed it on the chair. “If that’s all…”

  “J!” Carter snapped. “Sit down man. We need to talk.”

  Julius gave Carter a sharpened look. “I’m tired, Carter. I’m going upstairs to sleep, you can tell me all about it tomorrow.”

  “No, I can’t!” Carter grabbed and yanked open a drawer before him. He lifted out a folded paper and slapped it on the desk. “Read it.” He said grimly.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Julius glanced at the paper and then back up at Carter. His smile and calm-ish demeanour were gone. The performance had ended and the serious man that Julius knew all too well surfaced. He looked nervous as hell and Julius - not one to panic at much - felt a nasty shiver in his bones. “What is that?” He asked.

  Julius approached the paper and took it up and then opened it.

  “That came this morning, along with my supplies from the Hermes Corps.” Carter explained.

  Julius did hear Carter, but he didn’t register him. He was staring at the paper and at the lines that had. As he read, his heartbeat began to slow down to a murmur.

  By order of the Carrion Maker, the target in question is to be soundly and swiftly killed on sight.

  Captured is optional but physical proof of completed contract is required.

  Completion upon this task will result in the recipient of the hunt being paid the sum total of 10,000 Pesos and a lifetime ownership of a way-station in the East Pacific Skies.

  Proof of completion to be brought to the Northsea Skies, towards the Dover Outpost.

  Deadline: 10th of August, 2763. If contract is not met by date specified, contract is to be made null and void.

  The target is Julius Bechman. Contractor. Operates in the Atlantic.

  Signed with all the best luck for the hunters,

  Captain Dandelion ‘Skinner’ Everett of the Carrion Maker

  Dandelion. Dandelion. Dandelion was still alive. How the hell was that possible?

  Julius looked up at Carter. “What the hell is this?” He asked, eyes staring.

  His hands shook the letter.

  His mind raced at the ramifications of this. No longer would his flights in the morning sky be in peace. No longer would he be able to enjoy the sights of sky-whales diving up for rainwater. No longer would he be a free-roaming man. This bounty - for this is what it was - had taken it all from him.

  Carter crossed his arms as he sat on the desk, facing Julius. “I tried calling you. Could’ve warned you before you came here.”

  “…When did you get this?”

  “I told you, this morning.”

  “Who else here's seen this?”

  Carter rubbed the back of his neck. “So far only me… but that is not the only copy I’ve been told.” He glanced to the patrons. “I don’t know if they know about this…”

  Julius folded the death sentence and placed it in his pocket, next to his payment. “Damn… There were two pricks that left just now. Fredrick-”

  “-and Darwin. Of course…” Carter nodded slowly. “They came in very excitedly half an hour since, doing that weird hand-sign thing to eachother. I didn’t have a clue why until you just mentioned them.”

  “Frederick had a paper with him. Must be a copy. So who knows who else has it.” Julius looked over towards the lobby. The patrons were still drinking. But there were looks thrown towards him. Some of them in there knew.

  “Those people there…” Julius noted.

  “They’re contractors, Julius.” Carter nodded. “But I don’t know where those buddies stand.”

  “Anybody else here?”

  “There’s a woman upstairs. She’s a contractor too. She’s leaving today.”

  So that’s eight to contend with… Perfect. Julius rubbed his eyes. “Jesus Christ…”

  Carter rubbed his hands. “You can stay here, if you’d like. As long as you remain here, no harm’ll come to you under the Bounty Truce.”

  Julius laughed bitterly. “I don’t think not many people will give a damn about some truce when there’s thousands of Pesos in reach. Ten thousand Pesos… A man would give his right leg for that. Dandelion… That rotten bastard…”

  Carter shrugged. “Not to be one to say the adage, but I told you. You should have gutted that shit back when you had him at your mercy-”

  Julius fixed him with a glare, silencing his words. “Not helping, Carter.”

  “Sorry.” Carter raised his hand. “What are you going to do?”

  Julius rubbed his knees. “Well, there’s only one thing I can do now. Stop the contract. Kill Dandelion before I get killed.”

  Carter sighed bitterly. “Yeah… I figured that’d be the case… But what do we now?”

  “We?” Julius looked at Carter. “What’s this ‘we’ I’m hearing?”

  “You’re one of my best contractors, Bechman.” Carter crossed his arms. “You’re never stiffed me, never threatened me, never lied to me - okay maybe a few white lies - but you’ve been fair. You have more honour than most in this whole sky. As if I’d lose an asset like that.”

  Julius laughed to himself. He and Carter were not real friends, neither man had any illusions on that. Julius was just one of Carter’s many contractors and Carter himself was one of a few connectors Julius knew. But the respect and trust was there, as palpable as oil, and that was deeper than most friendships. Maybe that’s why Julius was honest to Carter about most of his personal life. Carter essentially acted like Julius’ confessor. And in Julius’ opinion, Carter was just as, if not more, honourable than he was.

  “Thank you.” Julius said with a nod.

  Carter waved off the thanks. “So? The plan?”

  “Play it off, the best we can.” Julius stood up and forced a smile. “Smile, shake my hand and laugh. Then I get the hell away while they’re not ready.”

  “There may be a fight. They look antsy.”

  “No sense in not trying.”

  Carter took a second to think it through before he stood up without question and shook Julius’ hand eagerly. “Always a pleasure, Danny. For what its worth, I wish I could do more to alleviate your problem.”

  “I’m sure to think of something.” Julius grinned with a wink, prompting a genuine laugh from Carter. “In any case, I best get a drink. Just so things look all right.”

  “Maybe they won’t recognise you.”

  “Hopefully.”

  Carter led Julius out of the office and locked it behind him with a key on a silver chain before dropping it back into his waistcoat pocket. The two men walked through the lobby, passing the four men at the table and towards the bar. Carter lifted the flip door and headed in behind the bar. The three men perched at the end of the bar watched Julius.

  “Vodka, Danny?” Carter asked. Julius perched on a stool as he leant his rifle against the bar. His cutlass still remained sheathed but hung by his side. “Iced, milk and some sugar cane syrup.” He said. “The usual.”

  Carter nodded and began to make the drink. Grabbing a steel cocktail shaker and dropping some ice in it, he said, “2 Pesos, Danny.”

  “Thanks.” Julius fished out two Peso coins made of aluminium and placed them into Carter’s opened palm. Carter dropped the coins in a wooden basin behind him and got to work.

  The ice shaker cracked the air as Julius waited for his drink. He glanced over at the three men by the bar. They were drinking, but none had their drinks on hand. They were just watching him.

  He raised a hand to them and turned back. He didn’t bother checking behind. The four at the table had not spoken since he sat down at the bar. They were doubtlessly watching him too. Julius nodded to himself. They knew who he was, it didn’t matter how much lying there’d be.

  Carter placed the white and icy cocktail in a thin glass before him. “Enjoy.”

  “Will do.” Julius sipped the drink. It was sharp with edges of tanginess, but a sweet undercurrent that made the swallowing pleasant.

  Julius looked towards the three men again. They were now taking up their drinks and sipping them. But none of them broke eye contact.

  Julius smiled towards them. “You boys having a good time?”

  One of them responded. “Good enough.”

  Julius nodded appreciatively. “That’s wonderful.” He drank. “A good drink is key to a good day, like tea or coffee. Isn’t that right, Carter?”

  “I’d suppose so.” Carter replied as he polished a few glasses from a washer. To the man’s credit, he was trying very hard to remain composed.

  “A bad day would be if someone made it so.” Julius drank and fixed the three men near him with a undefined look. “But that someone wouldn’t have to make it so. They could just have a nice drink, a friendly talk and then be on their way.”

  The three men shifted with two taking a step away from the bar and allowing the third who had spoken to move a step closer to Julius.

  Julius noted the boarding axes and a grappling hook on the man’s belt. Pirates, he realised. But which crew? Dandelion’s?

  The third man thumbed the handle of his steel ale mug, ale still untouched. “You saying there’s a man like that here, friend?”

  “Maybe…” Julius turned in his stool to face the man. One hand on the glass and the other on the hilt of his revolver.

  The four men flinched at the table and Julius noted one of them reach for a holstered revolver.

  “Peace, you dolt!” The third man snapped towards the table. “Remember the Truce.”

  The jumpy one at the table pulled his hand away from his gun and remained there seated. Julius calmly raised his glass towards that man for his respect of the Truce and turned his eyes back on his converser at the bar.

  “And you?” Julius asked him. “You going to remember the Truce?”

  “I will.” The stranger said. He made another step towards Julius.

  “That’s close enough, mate. I have a cold.” Julius spoke softly. “Wouldn’t want you catching it.”

  The stranger stopped, now only two stools away, and smiled. “Appreciated.”

  Julius nodded slowly.

  The pair stared eachother down silently. Julius now saw the man more clearly. The man had a scar that curved the side right of his mouth down, giving him a permanent frown. His eyes were a muddy brown and he hadn’t been shaving for a few days, making him look ragged. But it was the tattoo on his cheek that Julius noted the most. It was a black vulture in flight.

  Julius sighed through his nose. Pirates identified themselves with markers like that. And each marker was unique to the crew and the ship.

  The man before him was indeed a member of the Carrion Maker.

  Damn, they had me marked the second I walked in. And the second I leave here… Julius finished his cocktail. “Carter, I think I’ll take another.” He said.

  “Sure…” Carter spoke nervously.

  Julius placed two more coins on the bar and waited for his order.

  “Would you lads like a drink?” He offered to the men at the bar. None of them responded. They were just standing there. And they had made it clear that they would wait for him to leave.

  I could take them. But the four at the table? Where do they stand?

  “Oh well.” Julius took the second glass from Carter and sipped it gently.

  There was movement above him, from the next floor. Julius glanced up.

  Alright. So that’ll be the eighth now.

  He kept his ears open as the footsteps moved to the side of the room, which transferred to footfalls on the stairs on the lobby’s side. He turned casually in his stool to see who was coming down. The person turned in the stairwell and Julius first saw a pair of black working boots on a pair of slender trouser legs. The waist and torso followed, wrapped in a greyish brown overcoat. Lengthy red hair - curled at the end - rested on sharp shoulders and a woman’s fair face with freckles greeted Julius’ view. And made him choke on his drink.

  He stared at the woman. It wasn’t possible. How could it be possible? His hand shook the ice in his glass, making it clink. And a twinge of pain in his shoulder flared. An old pain from a bad time…

  The woman, who was carrying down a large duffel bag on a shoulder strap, stretched her arms with a yawn. She turned towards the bar and she stared in silence at Julius.

  Her eyes went wide and her bag dropped by her feet with a heavy thud.

  Julius felt his throat go dry. His heart thudded and thumped. His eyes became watery. His face was a visage of confusion, shock and guilt.

  The other contractors looked between the silent pair, unsure of what to make of it.

  The woman coughed to herself, blinked back something in her eyes and picked up the bag. She straightened up and headed right for Carter, refusing to look Julius’ way.

  “All good, Miss Johnson?” Carter asked her with his nerves on the breaking point.

  “Yes.” Miss Johnson said softly. “Here is the key. And payment.” She produced a brass key attached to a wooden peg with the number 2 and 50 Pesos of coins and placed them on the bar. The aluminium coins with that telltale gold inlay clinked daintily on the wooden surface.

  “I’ll also have a drink for the flight.” She asked. She leant against the bar, standing between Julius and the Carrion crewman.

  “All right.” Carter turned his back and began fixing a drink. He was shaking now with worry.

  Everyone waited in silence, with only the music breaking the tension. Miss Johnson tapped her nails on the counter.

  She then turned towards Julius and fixed him with a long, hard stare.

  “Been a long time, hasn’t it?” She said with ice in her voice.

  “Yes.” Julius drank, praying that the cocktail would help sooth his throat.

  “Who’d have thought I’d see you again…” she followed. She rested her elbow on the counter and tapped the side of her head with her fingers. “After what you did, I thought you’d be half a world away from this place and from me… Julius.”

  Julius closed his eyes. Damn it.

  Carter coughed hard as he turned around quickly. “Your drink, Miss!”

  He placed a dark red sparkling drink in a tall glass. She took up the drink with a nod and drank it. Then Carter slowly lowered himself down behind the bar, to hide.

  Julius watched her with wary apprehension. But his attention became diverted by the movement from the table. The four men slowly stood up from the table, locked in a whisper. Julius saw them nod to one another before turning towards him.

  “Alright, Julius Bechman.” The nervous man on the group spoke. His hand was back on the hilt of his revolver. “We’d like you to come quietly to our bikes. Nice and easy.”

  Julius fixed him with a dead glare. “Like hell I am… Not before I’ve finished this drink.”

  “You- you can finish it later.” The man stammered. Sweat began to form on his nose.

  Julius tensed his muscles. Nervous is bad. He might draw on me if he loses his nerve.

  Johnson glared at Julius. “What the hell did you do now?”

  “It’s not my fault.” Julius shrugged as he sipped his drink.

  “Not happening, mate.” The Carrion crewman suddenly said, drawing out one of his axes whilst his two goons drew out revolvers and cutlasses. “That prick’ll fetch a mighty sum for us. The Cap’n wants him, so the Cap’n’s gonna get him. And that’s reward enough for me.”

  “What?” The nervous man gaped. “You’re- you’re Carrions?”

  The crewman grinned, showing numerous gaps in his yellow teeth. “That’s right. And you’ll be too, if ya don’t get the fuck out right now. Truce still stands. Until you break it.”

  While this confrontation happened, Julius’s mind whirred as he kept up his calm facade.

  Ideas to get the hell out of this very, very bad situation flitted back and forth in his mind:

  He could run. Dive through the slatted window that faced the veranda. Sprint for the bike, install what he could and fly off. But that would take time. He had already disabled it, with the Tesla stone in his pocket.

  He could talk his way out. Explain that there was a peaceful way to end this. But with that Carrion crewman and his lot here and the clearly desperate look in that Nervous Nelly of a contractor, that wouldn’t happen. Dandelion wanted him dead. And waiting for them to leave would never happen.

  Or…

  He glanced towards his rifle beside him and felt the weight of his revolver and his cutlass on his belt. He could fight. What were there? Seven men? Some may be trained well enough to put up a fight. He would maybe take down two or three men with his guns. But that would be all the time he’d have before being cut down. The plus side of this though… They were not working together. These two groups, they wanted the money. Dumb bastards did not realise that it was for the same man, they could have worked together to share the bounty. But when you divide that 10,000 by seven… a man’s share doesn’t look as appealing. No, greed was a winning factor for Julius. But there was one small issue:

  He looked towards Miss Johnson. Miss Selena Johnson… Balls, why is she here? What was she even doing here? This was no place for a girl like her. And now, here she is, in the goddamn crossfire. One stray bullet could end her. Fuck.

  A metal click from behind him made Julius turn his head around, ever so slightly. Whilst the two groups glowered and argued and threatened, Julius noted Carter hunkered down behind his bar. He was white-faced but his eyes were set. Maybe because he was currently holding a shotgun with his safety latch clicked off. Julius balked.

  Where did the man get himself a bonafide Old-Time Era pump-action shotgun? Weapons like those were more expensive and harder to come by than Tesla stones. He really must made a fortune since the last time Julius flew by.

  Carter looked up at him and gave a simple nod. He was ready for whatever happened next. Julius grinned back and winked. So with some great deftness, his free hand looped around the strap of his rifle.

  “And I am saying to you,” Nervous Nelly shouted, sweat beads dripping. “Is that we saw him first! So we get first dibs! We get the money from your boss and you piss off!”

  “Why don’t you go jump off a bike, you leaking pimple?!” The Carrion crewman jibed. “Look at ya, shaking more than a frightened Staticat!”

  “You say what?!” Nervous Nelly screeched. “You wanna see me frightened!?”

  His three friends grabbed their revolvers and cutlasses and drew them. The Carrion crew also aimed out their revolvers. The stand-off was hitting a fever pitch. A fight was coming.

  Selena gently settled down her glass before picking up the handles of her duffel bag. “Someone put a bounty on you?” She asked Julius. “Finally. It’s about time.” She smiled with no mirth in those lips.

  Julius stared at her. Was she being serious right now?

  There was a sound from outside. It sounded like a ping. Like metal clinking against glass or some sort. Julius glanced to the door as it was pulled open.

  Something was thrown into the lobby. It landed just behind the fourth of Nervous Nelly’s men. It was small and solid. A black cylindrical object with a small round handle or loop. You know, it almost looked more like a-

  Fear-stricken, Julius grabbed Selena by the shoulder and hurled both her and himself over the counter as the grenade exploded.