Project Sirius

Kitty go pop

I awoken to the feeling like my head had been bashed against a concrete wall. My brain feeling as though it’s vibrating within my skull. On top of the definite cracked ribs, broken nose, and busted lip, I now had to add a pounding headache to the list. “You a’ight there kitty?” Came that familiar hoarse voice from earlier. My feet were bound and tied to together, as were my hands while they hung from silk rope attached to the ceiling. I was swung around so that I was face to face, to him. Even with my eyes just barely open I could still make out Bazoors ugly mug.

“Ello kitty”.

“Mmm granny that you?” I groaned. He scrunches his face together then pushes his index and middle finger between my second and third ribs.

“f**k!” I screamed in agony. Bazoor smiled “There’s the sweet little kitty there, we caught you on the street trynna run from us, didn’t we?”. He smiled revealing a set of crooked and missing teeth. You’d think with today’s technology healthcare would be as simple as a click away but somehow it’s still a hot button topic centuries later.

He gets a little closer to me “Not very nice of ye.”

“Run? Why would I run from a face like that?” I said between gritted teeth “It only scares small children and grown men alike.” The smile on his face became an instant reaction of anger. He threw his fist out with two quick consecutive hits and jabbed me in the same spot he just prodded his fingers in to. “Think ye funny kitty? You wanna see ye head go pop? Do you kitty, do you?”

“Bazoor. That’s enough” came a low and demanding tone from the shadows.

Bazoors looked up and instantly backed away taking a neutral position like any guard dog does when its master tells it to heel. I could hear the clicks of brand new dress shoes walking slowly towards me. Inch by inch the swaying ceiling light revealing the mysterious man in his entirety. My body began tittering forward so I could make out the face.

It was Satire. Standing 5’10, grey colored shoulder length hair he liked to keep slicked back and doe like Amber colored eyes. He wasn’t a bad looking guy I could admit. But aside from money and looks he had no real personality and showed no interest in people that had nothing to offer him.

He walked in with all his glory and power behind him. Twenty maybe thirty men carrying an assortment of weapons from bats, chains, clubs, AKs even dogs on leashes. Satire was a man who had no problem telling people how much he hated this era and often said he was born in the wrong time period. He appreciated all of the finer things from the 20&21st century. He said they all had old world charm. He never allowed neither him or any of his men to carry, wear or use anything from this days time period. He chose older torture methods that were far more painful than the instant kill ones that Roanoke and some agencies preferred today.

His parents were poachers and human traffickers that made a living off selling illegal goods. Mostly animals and extras from every insidious corner of our galaxy and the next. They didn’t involve themselves with drugs said it was demeaning and a slippery slope, one in which you could never come back from once it held you in its grasp.

Criminals with a code.

Ironic isn’t it.

Apparently this is also a generational business tracing it back all the way to his great whatever number ago, uncle Jungo. Who was killed by his adopted niece, a hit woman from an all female contract killer group who called themselves the FatalBeauties.

Another story for another time.

Satire stayed true to his families business and never sold drugs either. He made his money an honest way. Illegal gambling and hunting. Like a true Terra villain.

He walked towards me with all the confidence of man who knew he had me cornered like a wounded animal. Unbuttoning the first two buttons on his suit jacket. A royal shimmering blue and black, 3 piece.

“Mr.Plaza.” He stops just a foot or two in front of me “I feel you may have mistaken my last words as a jist when I said at our last meeting to have at least the first half of my money by the end of the month. Or else”

“It’s only the 22nd, Satire.”

“The end of Last month, Jonas and today’s the 24th.”

“I thought my repayment didn’t start till the third month? That’s the way you set it up for me last time and the time before that.”

Satire begins to remove his jacket and hands it over to his lackey Bazoor to hold.

“Interest, usually doesn’t start building till the third month. It’s called a grace period. However, you’re very aware of this since like you just mentioned it’s not your first time borrowing from me. Just like I’m sure you’re also aware that that apartment you used as collateral isn’t in your name so you knew I couldn’t take it from you even if I wanted to, if you didn’t make good on your first payment.” he unbuttons his cufflinks of his white dress shirt and rolls up the sleeves. “You trying to pull the wool over my eyes Jonas ?” He grabs a steel bat leaning up against his tool table and surveys it for a bit. “That was a big mistake of yours.”

“I wasn’t trying to…”

JAB!

I felt a quick left hook rock my jaw, courtesy of Bazoor.

“He ain’t done speaking yet, kitty. Let em talk.”

Satire looks over at me and gives a quick grin.

“As I’ve said Jonas, you’ve tried to sell me a merchandise you don’t own. Now I’m a businessman and I better than anyone know you can’t sell a product that’s not yours. On top of that. You tried to sell me a poor man’s Buckingham Palace. The pictures you showed me do not match the residence in which you said you lived.”

“Satire I..” attempted to explain the facts.

SLAM!

He slams the bat down on the table, which was my cue to not talk again until he’s finished.

He then chooses to reach for what looks like a very old mini rusted axe. “I’ve always admired the craftsmanship of the early Terraformers. They really knew how to make weapons. Each person poured their heart into their work and eventually put it up for sell so that others could buy their exquisite handwork for admiration or use, whatever their needs.” He positions the object above his head and starts peering at it through the light. “Only issue was, the upkeep on these masterpieces took time and effort. Sharpening along stones to make sure they never dulled was the biggest hassle. And some people felt it wasn’t worth the time to do, so many just threw them out and bought new ones.” He started tossing the object from one hand to the other. “And you know where those items ended up due to poor mishandling and improper recycling practices then? In a mountain of trash that just floated to nowhere miles out to sea. Now the problem with some of these objects are once they sat to long they started to rot, decay or the material would simply rust over time like this one.” He holds it up in plain sight as he begins his walk back towards me. “And what made this material now corroded and broken so dangerous was that if you got cut by it you could get infected with this really nasty stuff called Tetanus. “ Satire shrugged his shoulders “Doesn’t sound to bad when you think about it. A little alcohol and a shot could clean it right up and you’d be good as new. However..”

Quicker than what seemed like the speed of light he takes the jagged object and cuts deep into the skin of the side of my left cheek, from the Tragus to my lower jaw.

“AHHHH,f**k!” I scream.

Instantly I begin to feel the warm sensation of blood trickle down my face and neck. Followed by a sharp stinging.

“However!” He grips tightly a hold of my jacket. “If I was to let your piss ass sit dangle for say of a few days tied up. No food, no water, no bathroom, no medical attention whatsoever, you’d quickly begin to feel the side affect’s of bacterial in your blood. And it’s not something so trivial as a slight discomfort from an itch that’s just so bothering you can’t scratch it.” He grabs my face, his hands squeezing against my wound causing the blood to cascade out of the cut. “No, It may start out that way, but eventually you’ll start developing a sweat. A sweat that’s gonna come from a fever raising your pulse and heart rate, next you’ll experience a twitch or involuntary spasms, like lockjaw and perhaps some other nasty discomforts that’ll have you begging me to just chop off your f*****g head already. But all I’ll do is let the infection do its job and slowly turn you into a nervous system reject with two legs and no dick.” He uppercuts a punch into my crouch, which causes me to projectile vomit from how hard he hits. “Because I’m feeding that useless piece of meat to my damn dogs, once the infections had its way with you. Then slowly let you bleed out on my floor.” He smushes my face away from him “ Leave him there for a week and if he’s still breathing cut him again.” He directs Bazoor. Bazoor looks at me and grins “Will do.”

I gasped for air “ Im..working.. a bounty Satire” I struggle to get out the words. “I just need to borrow enough credits to get off world.” He stops in his tracks. “It’s why I lied about the value of the apartment. I needed more than what it was worth.”

For a moment there’s a brief silence.

“What’s the case?” He asks without looking at me.

I spew out pieces of leftover vomit “It’s not something I can fully discuss right now..”

“DO NOT PLAY GAMES WITH ME JONAS! WHAT BOUNTY?” His anger was peaked and I knew not to joke around with him when he was like this.

I had to think of something quick. Ezra and I didn’t really have time to hash out the details of our plot. I was hoping we’d be able to go over it in length tonight in order to get the ball rolling on the rumor. Then it dawned on me.

“Check my pocket.” I tell him.

Satire turns around and taps the side of his leg a few times clearly debating whether or not to go along with my charade, but then nods his head toward Bazoor giving him the ok to do so. He immediately goes to work on patting me down. He first pulls out Ezra’s keycard and shows it to Satire then hands it over. “No, my inside pocket on the left side.” He proceeds to dig into the inner breast of my jacket until he pulls out my Y-scanner. “Play the most recent message.” I insisted. Bazoor looks over at Satire and hands him the device next. He looks at it for a second as if I handed him a puzzle. I walk him through how to use it. “Press your thumb on the glass, it’ll light up green then red and ask for a code to continue. Press 0828. Then play last recording”. He followed my directions and listened to the last message saved..

WANTED: Quatar M'uklaney in regards to stolen classified information on Moses Corp. Finders fee is 750,000 exco credits for capturing Quatar..

CLICK.

He stops the recording, he’s heard all he needed to.

“Well Jonas, if there’s one thing I can always bet on, is for you to catch your target and I’m not one to stop you before you do.” He hands Bazoor back my scanner “Release him and make sure he’s given antibiotics.” Bazoor quickly cuts the ropes holding my legs and arms, my body quickly flops to the ground. “I’ll throw some extra creds your way to allow for transportation off world and food and hotel stays as well.”

I attempt to pull my body off the ground from the concrete floor. The pain was exurciating “Thanks I..”

He puts his hand up. “Thank nothing of it.”

I see Ezra’s keycard in his hand. “Can I have the key back?”

Satire flips it back and forth. “This?” He scrutinizes over it for a second. “Kern County Apartment Complex.” He smacks the card gently in his palm a few times. “Not a bad area, wonder who lives there?” He looks me in the face. “Maybe I ought to hold on to this as additional collateral. In case you decide to do something stupid.” He places the keycard in his pocket. “Consider it incentive you’ll actually come back and pay me my creds and if you don’t, well then I’ll just have to send Bazoor over there to pay them a visit.” He starts rolling down his sleeves “And you know what he likes to do.”

Bazoor looks at me and makes a grind “Kitty go pop.”