Cora watched in horror as Hawk made a jocular exchange with the man, then began pulling him back towards the group. Donovon wasn’t really that much to look at. Close cropped hair, average size, if pretty well muscled. Gear that looked better maintained than most of the thugs in the area, but wasn’t on par with the soldier types.
No, what had set him apart was his eyes. Cora had heard people say ‘shark eyes’ before. She’d even seen people with eyes dark enough to be called that. Donovan was the first person she’d seen to combine that physical blackness with an empty void. A void that looked out at the world with the absolute knowledge that all the life in the world couldn’t fill it, but it would consume it all to try.
Might be overreacting. Worst person I’ve ever known had eyes so beautiful, bright, and green they might as well have been portals to the Garden of Eden. At least until I put a round of 9 mil into one of ‘em.
But even Lindsay didn’t have [Slaver] next to her name.
“Check it out! Street Wolves were tougher to kill than even I thought!” Hawk exclaimed, patting ‘Donovan’ on the back as she presented him to the group. The man’s shark eyes ran over Cora, which she was used to, but it wasn’t lecherous, which she wasn’t. He looked like he was parceling her out into cuts of meat, clinical and indifferent.
“This be one o’ yer old crew, then, Hawk?” Iain asked, voice kind, but eyes laser focused on the newcomer. When Iain’s lazy demeanor dropped, you took notice.
“Yeah! Honestly, thought Donovan here took one to the dome during our last stand, but here he is!” Hawk exclaimed.
“Oh, I definitely did that,” Donovan said, voice… normal. Cora had expected a hiss, or a voice like a frozen river. Nope, just a guy. He tilted his head, revealing a long, deep scar across the base of his skull. “Technically a graze though. Enough to put me down, but not out, meaning I ended up slaved instead of slaving. Way she fuckin’ goes I guess.”
Cora was a little taken aback by the man’s apparent acceptance of his lot, but then again, Hawk had seemed the least upset about actually being a slave herself, so maybe that kind of lifestyle inured you to it. When you looked at people as cattle, and you were a person, maybe it wasn’t quite as surprising when you found yourself in the stockyards.
Still, Donovan was giving Cora bad vibes like she’d never felt. Hawk was dangerous, and crazy, but Donovan just felt wrong.
“Who’s got your Bond?” Cora asked. Both because she thought it’d be good to start building up a hitlist of other slavelords in the area, and to remind Hawk they wouldn’t be taking this guy home with them.
“Can’t say,” Donovan said, shaking his head. “They’ve got me leading a crew of Links out here, making a few extra ‘Trish, and keepin’ an eye out for you.”
Cora’s blood turned to ice.
“And what are you and the Links supposed to do when you find me?” She asked.
“Let someone know,” Donovan said, casually, “already sent a runner. Can’t start shit at the Depot. Standing bounty on anybody who does.”
Hawk was looking between Donovan and Cora, grin slowly fading. Honestly, the most gradual shift in expression Cora had yet seen from the big girl.
“Wait, what!?” Hawk hissed, her mind finally catching up to the conversation. Her face went full dark, and with one hand, she grabbed Donovan by the throat, holding him aloft above her head. “You’re with the fuckin’ CHAINS!?”
Her roar caught the attention of basically everyone in the immediate area, and a lot of hands went to firearms.
Must be some kind of merc permit, Cora thought. Definitely wish I had my gun right now.
Hawk had enough presence of mind to notice the attention, but not enough restraint to let it stop her.
“Oh, you bitch,” she hissed, bringing Donovan’s face close to hers, still leaving his feet dangling nearly a foot off the ground. “You’re gonna wish you’d bled out back at the Den.”
“Nah,” Donovan choked, but still managed to laugh a bit, cold as ice. “I won’t. For what it’s worth, Hawk, hope they don’t kill you. Be good to work with you again.”
Hawk let out a wordless roar that left Donovan’s face visibly wet, then tossed him back into the crowd like a doll.
“Right,” Cora said, “well, looks like an escort just became a priority.”
She caught the eye of the two soldier types, beckoning them over.
One of them looked between her, Hawk, and Donovan, and shook his head.
Fair enough, I wouldn’t want a piece of this noise either.
The other marched up, stiff back and hard bearing implying someone who wasn’t far removed from their military history.
Cora had originally taken them for a man, albeit a short one, but as they approached, she reassessed. A staunch black beret covered her brunette hair, and the woman had a jawline sharper than Linnea’s, but her features were definitely feminine, and honestly, classically beautiful. While her outfit wasn’t form fitting, it did curve in all the expected places.
“Five thousand P, and first pick of loot,” she said, without a word of introduction.
“Fook off it!” Iain laughed, “that’s half what we paid for teh damn supplies!”
“Lucky to be getting any interest at all,” the woman replied, “seeing as you just made it clear an assault by the biggest gang in town is all but guaranteed.”
Again, fair enough.
Cora thought about their finances. While 5k was an appreciable portion of their immediately accessible funds, it wasn’t much compared to the total she had in the bank, provided she could ever get to that. Plus, while she wasn’t necessarily looking forward to another gunfight, she had to admit, they’d been lucrative. All they had to do was win, and any help they got would probably pay for itself, even with the woman’s fee.
“Still a lot of ‘trish,” Cora said, picking up on the slang term for ‘Patrician’. “What makes you worth it?”
“Five years on the frontlines, fighting for Tyrinno against your Logie there and his friends,” she said, inclining her head towards Iain. Cora tensed, expecting that to be some sort of racial slur, but Iain just nodded. Whatever a ‘Logie’ was, it was apparently not an offensive way to refer to where Iain was from.
Furthermore, the slight respect that entered his eyes was encouraging.
Cora wasn’t sure how far she wanted to trust someone who’d fought ‘for Tyrinno’, but had known enough soldiers back home to know there were a lot of reasons someone joined the armed forces. Ideology was actually pretty low on that list.
“You bonded?” Cora asked. She was going to do her level best not to exploit slave labor at all while she was contemplating ending it, though she doubted avoiding such a thing was truly possible in a society like Tyrinno’s. Not yet, at least.
“No,” the woman shook her head.
Welp, gonna have to take her at her word.
The woman could be lying about all of this, obviously. But Cora was pretty excellent at picking up on those things. Actors were just the world’s best liars, after all, and Cora had talked to Daniel Day Lewis when he wasn’t method acting. She could spot the differences, and this woman wasn’t giving any tells.
In fact, she seemed just the right amount of nervous. That sharp jawline was tight, but set in defiance. Her blue eyes shook slightly as they met Cora’s, but still held her gaze. This was someone who knew what combat might mean, but was prepared to do it anyway. Probably someone desperate.
Good, desperate is something I can work with.
“5k and first pick it is,” Cora said, to a groan from Iain. “If there’s any of the riff-raff here you’ve worked with, trust, and aren’t bonded, tap em, offer them a thousand ‘trish to ride along. We’ll leave as soon as our carts are loaded. What’s your name?”
“I go by Trish,” the woman said, the first crack in her face showing itself with a sly smile. Cora laughed, shook her hand, and watched as the woman waded back into the crowd, barking orders at a few eager looking youths.
“You actually think we got taken for a ride?” Cora muttered to Iain.
“Hmm? Oh, nay, I’d have stopped ye iff’n I really did,” he said with a grin, “jus’ cannae be goin’ and lettin’ the mercs get a big head, ye ken. They’ll just ask for more!”
15 minutes later, Trish marched back up to the cart, 3 rough looking thugs in tow.
All of them were pretty young, barely out of their teens, if that. Regardless, they were all also beginning to have the thousand yard stare so common to citizens of Tyrinno. It looked like 18 years on the streets of a Slave-City had a lot more wear on the soul than 18 years of a middle-class upbringing in Santa Monica, surprise surprise.
“Heyo, Trish,” Cora waved, hopping down from where she’d been helping Andy load sacks into the cart. Andy was their driver’s name, and Cora had literally watched him pick the short straw for the job. “Who are your friends?”
“Jonesy, Dip, and Tallboy,” Trish said, indicating a stocky brown haired kid, a lanky asian man, and a dude who was juuuust on the edge of being a dwarf. Cora gave them her best dazzling grin, hoping it worked as well on Linnea’s face as it had her own.
“Howdy, all,” she said, shaking hands with each. Dip and Tallboy were steady, but Jonesy’s hand quavered a little. Cora gave it an extra squeeze, locking eyes with him and trying to impart confidence. It worked, at least a little. His hand steadied, and his eyes gained a bit of focus.
“So, you all probably gathered, but we are expecting a bit of trouble on this run. Far as any fighting goes, listen to Iain here,” she said, slapping the soldier on the back. “He’s got more experience than all of us combined, I’d wager. You’re all armed?”
Dip brandished what looked realllll close to an AK-47, while the other two glumly presented the blocky Glock-like pistols that seemed so common in Tyrinno.
“Hmm…” Cora said, thinking of the guns they’d taken off the first group of Links that day, safe in the entrance locker. She’d been informed they’d be in another locker on their way out, and been given a code for pickup. “You two any good with AR’s?”
Jonesy perked up, nodding, while Tallboy waffled a bit.
“Fuck it,” Cora decided, “sign-on bonus, I happen to have some extra guns available. Survive the run and y’all can keep the upgrades. Let’s head out!”