[BCOLOR=#000000]Thursday, July 27th, 2166[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]18:00 Standard Time[/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]Synthia had been employed at the Quarry for around four months, and she had been given two days off a week; Sunday, when the shop was always closed, and another day of her choosing. Often, she had come in even when she was supposed to be home because she had been stir crazy or her help had been requested. In four months, she had never asked for another day off, and she really despised doing so now. It was the end of the day on Thursday, and just a few minutes after closing.[/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]"I got some work this weekend, out in Leford. Mind if I take off for a few days? Leaving Saturday morn', should be back by Tuesday night," she asked, an unusual trepidation lining her voice. She and Garrett had become much more comfortable with each other over the past few months, but in this moment she sounded just as nervous as she had during her interview, if a bit less formal. [/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]Garrett looked up from the discarded hydro pump from the local recycling center, split straight down the middle. [/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]"Right, need creds for the ticket?" His voice was flat, almost as if he'd expected the question.[/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]"Nah, it's really just a favor, more a personal thing than related to the shop. Thanks for the offer though," came the response, after only a slight hesitation. Her supervisor really was far too kind to her. She had expected the time off, not the offer of a ticket.[/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]Garrett remained silent for a moment, running a careful hand over the breach in the pump. It would be one hell of a day to fix this mess, almost enough of a break that he'd had half a mind to return it and state it was beyond repair. But, stubborn as he was when it came to this, he'd agreed to see what could be done. Cheap adhesives wouldn't do the trick, and he was beginning to dread he would have to go through the hassle of welding the pipe shut. [/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]That's what you get for claiming you'll keep the thing runnin' on fumes if you have to.[/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]"Still expect that hovercraft o' yours done by then. I ain't touchin' the damned thing, that's up to you and your fèi wù interface." He finally replied, rolling his chair over to the now expanded toolbox, more due to Synthia's tools than anything else. [/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]He hadn't mentioned that, odds were, he'd be heading out to the station as well. That bastard in the white suit had seen to that sad ending. While he'd been out, Garrett had seen to it that his .38, his 'Garand', be checked for any gross mechanical faults. Besides the terrible rust that had accumulated in the barrel, an easy clean-up, everything had been in working order. Of course, Zona had been the one to see to it; he didn't even think about going to the local, perfectly law-abiding gunsmith to fix the rifle that should have been turned in when he left service.[/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]"Oh, the hovercraft? I finished that before lunch. It just needed a new ZX-66 engine and a reinstall of its primary control software," Synthia replied with a cheeky grin. "Honestly, the worst part was just getting around the company's proprietary gou pi. I just said it would take three times as long to give myself wiggle room. If I overestimate the repair time, then I look like a miracle worker." [/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]"Missed your calling as a con artist, I think." Garrett rolled his eyes, attempting to pass the movement as returning his gaze to the pump before adding sarcastically. "Granted, you're no good at anything but mechanics, but I'm sure you'd make it work somehow." The younger breetva just raised an eyebrow and smirked.[/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]"I am a woman of many talents, only some of which do I reveal to you," she answered, still grinning. Winking an eye at him, she continued. "Want me to take a look at that pump you've been hitting your head against since dawn?"[/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]"One cannot rush perfection." Garrett responded with a slight smirk. "It's a fairly common break. Well, no. It isn't. But it's happened more than I'm willing to admit. This thing is damned old, older than you are probably."[/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]"I'm 26," Synthia responded, kneeling down to look at the device anyway. "Really, you should just weld the break this time, if you're going to keep insisting on using that piece of gosa instead of scrapping it and getting a new one. You'll save us both a lot of headache in the long run." Generally, Synthia was loathe to waste technology herself, but she had learned the hard way that there were many times that replacing something was cheaper than the time and material cost of repairing it.[/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]"Oh, in that case, this is a newborn babe compared to you." Garrett mused, gaze meeting hers. "You know what? I think I will, since clearly my profession means nothing to one as oh so skilled as you." His tone was still light-hearted as he went to the loose floorboard that held the heavier-duty tools.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]Despite his light-hearted tone, Synthia still looked away apologetically, having no desire to even accidentally offend her friend.[/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]"Sorry, Garrett. I didn't mean to be such a gorram know-it-all," came the embarrassed reply as she helped him set up the welder. "I just get idiotically carried away sometimes."[/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]"Oh come now." He replied, grabbing under the work table for a pair of goggles. "Dishin' it out and for once you can't take it?" His assistant just rolled her eyes again. For all her "tough girl" airs, she was far too afraid of genuinely hurting someone, and with good reason. Her mouth had often run away with her, and she'd nearly lost more than one friend over it.[/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]With the goggles fit firmly around his head and hair pushed out of his face, Garrett knelt before the pump and activated the welder. It wasn't a graceful machine, but it was a focused pattern and that was what mattered at the end of the day. A few years earlier, when using this specific torch, he had used gloves and a protective mask. As experience gathered, and a certain dismissal for safety, he had been less and less timid around the thing; worst he'd gotten was a few second degree burns from over exposure.[/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]---[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]July 29th, 2166[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]07:00 Standard Time[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]---[/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]The train was never on time. Didn't matter what company, what cargo, what purpose. It was never on time. Not only that, but it never ran late on a predictable schedule. Still, that didn't mean it was best to be late, for one in every fifty always ran in as planned, leaving just enough trepidation with it to keep people studious of their time management. [/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]If all things were in a perfect world, it should have arrived thirty minutes previously. Already a crowd of passengers - crowd really was a generous term, as it was only fifteen individuals - had gathered around the worn and plain outcropping of concrete that had been intended for civilian craft; the town made its fortune off trade, not chauffeuring people from one point to another.[/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]Already Zona was beginning to feel a bit of agitation, having stubbornly kept her pack slung across her shoulders all morning and insisting for once the Maglev would be on time. As was the case, she had been wrong and now waited for Synthia to help break some of the tedium that waiting offered. There'd been a few others huddled around that proved to be mildly interesting, though they had no business talking to a mudder kid like her. From what she'd gathered, though, all of them had come in the hopes of making a fortune off the bounty. [/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]Good luck. That had been all she could offer, though they paid her no heed.[/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]The one time Synthia was on time for anything besides work, she deeply regretted it, as it was hot out and she could not help but feel rather tense over this job. At this point, she just wanted to get it over with and take the money, rather than worrying and dwelling on it like she had for the past few days. The mechanic's assistant had a heavy set of tools and her laptop with her, and had early on taken a seat down on the rickety bench in the back of the station. She had also brought her .38 Denar pistol, a decent gun that she kept in good condition, but that she rarely carried and had never fired outside the range. On her old solar powered datapad, she was reading a technical text about common power cells and some of the various common models. It was only when she looked up realized that it was thirty minutes past and the train still had not arrived, that she noticed Zona. Gathering her moderately heavy equipment, she walked over to the teen and stood next to her, for a minute saying nothing. [/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]"Well, I'm here," she muttered, unable to think of much else to say. Many questions had arisen in her head about the girl and the job, but none seemed like a good idea to start spouting off here in public.[/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]Zona turned on her heels to face Synthia, offering a shrewd grin in greeting. "And the train isn't."[/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]Slung across the girl's chest sat a plain leather holster from which the handle of a .22 rimfire 'stub gun' shown in dull grey and black. It also went by 'lady's pistol' as it was often the weapon of choice for assassins or other operatives. Across the holster's strap lined a dozen of the pistol's rounds, each having to be manually loaded and primed, making it a weapon prone to misfires and spectacular bursts of powder. [/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]Beneath the straps of the holster was a plain buttoned-up white shirt above a pair of faded, dull jeans torn at the knees. Her tan orange-brown skin was matted in dust and dirt and her face only held a margin of the white stripes it had earlier in the week, gone from layers of filth or wear and tear. From beneath a brow lined with the most intricate of the paint, plain brown eyes stared up at Synthia with a mix of exhaustion and appreciation. Naturally, catching sight of the gun only raised more questions for Synthia.[/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]"So, how in the 'Verse does a kid your age have a weapon better than mine?" she muttered under her breath, leaning in so that only Zona could hear her.[/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]"Better? No, no. This thing is a piece of junk compared to anything else. Thing has burned my hand on more than one occasion!" Zona replied, showing a hand with pale scars across the palm. "See?"[/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]"That's actually… kind of worse. Shouldn't be using something that's not safe for you," Synthia pointed out, looking down at her own scarred and calloused hands. None of the scars were from her pistol, however, just from small slips in the shop.[/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]"Only thing I could slip under the radar. It's a fine weapon, just, it's...temperamental? Yeah, temperamental." She responded, struggling with the word.[/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]"How long before you turn 16 and can actually register your own?" the mechanic's assistant asked, pulling out her own weapon for the girl to look at. [/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]"One and a half standard years. Not that I'll be registering one then, makes it too easy on the law to find me." A smirk followed, to which Synth merely rolled her eyes.[/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]"Don't matter if the law finds you so long's you don't do nothin' the Lawmen care about," she pointed out. [/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]"To each their own." [/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]It was just then that the maglev train finally actually arrived, and the group stepped forward to board the train. Zona and Synthia took two seats in the second to last car, where no one else was present. Displaying a healthy bit of paranoia, Synthia looked around for security cameras, but found none. The devices were dirt cheap, but the old company who ran the public ground transports across the planet still did not bother.[/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]"So, you gonna tell me how a 14 year old came to work for a man like Nils Blackheart?" the mechanic asked, just as the train was beginning to glide away from the station.[/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]"Start young. It's a pretty common trend in any respectable criminal organization." Zona explained, staring out the window at the rolling red wastes.[/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]"Respectable criminal organization? Isn't that a contradiction?" Synthia responded with a smirk, looking at the window herself. "Shouldn't you be in school or something? Or actually enjoying being a kid?" [/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]"It isn't a contradiction in the slightest. Crime's as white collar a job as you can find without bein' in the cities, dong ma? It's got training, connections, and an identity. 'Least I'm with the pro-criminal, because be damned if a jackal can do shit in the world. You get that, right? You get we don't get a shot out there?" Her gaze never left the window as she spoke. [/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=#000000]Synthia looked away. Her companion was right. She did not know a single person of jackal descent in the city, at least no one who dared advertise the fact. And she'd lived and worked all over.[/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]"I guess you have a point. The anti-discrimination laws mean nuthin' out here, and enough employers discriminate that... yeah. I just... I never liked the idea of killin'. And I don't like seeing someone your age exposed to it instead of schoolin' and havin' a life."[/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]"Oh, I don't kill." A pause. "I've shot at and hit people, but I never hit them in too vital a spot. It's just for show."[/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]"Aren't you afraid o' the lawmen arrestin' you at some point? Main thing that's kept me out of crime is that I get bored too easily to deal with having nothing to do in yono." [/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]"'Course that's always a risk, it's why you don't get caught." There was an obvious over-cocky air around the statement. "Nils is the best in business."[/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]"What kind of stuff do you actually do?"[/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]"Up 'til now it's been pretty basic. A few easy cons, some pickpocketing, the usual thief stuff. He's been keeping jobs and the real stuff out of my reach 'til I turn sixteen; this was an easy mark he figured anyone could handle, so he left me in charge of it."[/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]"What is involved besides my fixin' the cell?" the mechanic asked curiously.[/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]"For you or for me?" Zona questioned, turning as if just realizing Synthia was there.[/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]"For you. I figure if there was anything else I had to do, you would have already told me, right?"[/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]"Oh, 'course. Most people don't take what I say at face value, figures 'neh?" She paused, considering her next phrasing. "It's a boring series of assurances and empty words that say Nils still has their best intentions in mind and blah blah." The girl stuck her tongue out, rolling her eyes in one moment of childishness. "Load of hùnzhàng."[/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]"Gee, I can't imagine how anyone could not take you at face value," Synth pointed out sarcastically. "No one likes hùnzhàng. Simple as that. If you can't be straight with people, then they will never take you seriously. Besides, who you're working for doesn't help. Though, I guess I can't criticize, now. It didn't take that much for you to get me to agree to work for you."[/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]"Oh, I'm hurt." Zona held a hand to her forehead and feigned passing out. "Honesty. It's what makes the real grifters from the two-cred newsies. Tell them a lie and they'll never work in your favor. The workers, anyway."[/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]"Sounds about right. I nearly slammed the door in your face the other day when I thought that you were bein' untruthful. Are you ever afraid you'll get yourself shot?"[/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]"Afraid of the act? Probably." Zona lifted her shirt to reveal a reflective surface beneath, slightly flexible and segmented. "It isn't great, but it's done the trick to whatever people hold in their pockets. I hate rejection."[/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]"You still never answered my question about what else this job entailed for you," Synth pointed out, staring out the window again.[/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]"It involved finding a decent breetva and bringing that breetva to fix some power cell. What it's used for I don't know, but it's something that's just some favor or another. Nothin' too big, but still important enough for Nils to see to it on his own time."[/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]"Fair 'nough. I guess I was still afraid there was more to it than that. I don't want to get wrapped into something I can't handle. Spent my whole life trying to stay out of this crowd. Watched a couple of friends get themselves in deep trouble over this stuff. Though, most of what I saw in Desert Bottom was drug dealing and using."[/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]"Two-cred newsies."[/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]"Maybe so, but they made bank. 'Least compared to what I was makin' at the jobs I did. Used to really damage my calm too."[/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]"Everything has a way of doin' that sometimes, 'least they were paying for their means to an end, 'neh?"[/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]"Yono's a pretty shitty end, though. They wouldn't let me fix spaceships in lockup."[/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]"It's why you don't act the idiot and get caught, ain't it?" Zona questioned with a tone that implied she believed this to be understood.[/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]"Not always easy for most people. I was always mostly afraid I wouldn't be good enough. 'Sides, I don't like hurtin' people for my own personal gain. And all that shootin' would get cut into my time of doin' what I actually like doin'."[/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]"I believe that natural selection applies to criminals just like it does anything else. The fuckers who get caught or killed, well, they clearly weren't good 'nuff for the job they signed up for. The real criminals don't need to kill nobody, see? Nils isn't the greatest 'cuz you still heard of him, haven't 'ya? There was a' old flick, some nineteen-nineties contrived shit. 'The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was making people believe he didn't exist.'"[/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]"Makes sense. After all, the best criminals would be invisible. Some people are just too gorram prideful about their work. But hell, I can understand that too, on some level."[/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]"I'm not in it for the money. I'm in it for the satisfaction of being the cleverest o' the lot." Zona state dryly. [/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]"Why does it matter if you're the cleverest o' the lot? Especially since, you don't really seem to be." [/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]"Yet look who is on the train, out of reach of their weapon, and following my orders. Who knows? This train might not be heading to Leford, you bother to check where it was heading to? Who's to say I don't have someone waiting to abduct you at the drop off point? 'Plenty go missing 'round Leford, really, it's the brilliant stage to make someone go poof."[/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]"Yeah, and look who told me just about everything about herself. You showed me your unregistered weapon as soon as we met, and you've admitted to several minor crimes since we've been on this train. All I had to do was ask you. Hell, it wouldn't surprise me if you were using your real name. If I were an undercover lawman, you'd be humped. Also, of course I checked where it was going. I'm not a complete backbirth."[/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]Zona smirked with false bravado. "Glad to see you aren't a backbirth either, you'll live longer. No, not from me or Nils, but from the hundreds of not-so respectable persons of business."[/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]"The only thing I do with those not-so-respectable persons of business is fix their equipment. They got no reason to draw my ace."[/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]"Everybody has every reason to draw anyone's ace. Just a matter of who, when, and where." Zona remarked snidely.[/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]"I respectfully disagree. I got no reason to kill anyone," the relatively innocent mechanic replied, rolling her eyes.[/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]"Didn't say you did, but other people do. More than they're willin' to admit out here."[/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]Synthia could think of nothing to say to that one, so she fell into silence, and began reading her tablet again.[/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]"I'm going to guess that you don't have much information on the actual make and model of this power cell, or its parts, hmm?" she asked after a few minutes, hoping to do some more effective research.[/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]Zona paused for a moment, considering the question before responding. "DE series, if that helps at all. I don't know the specific model."[/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]"That's mildly helpful, thanks," Synth muttered as she went back to reading, focusing on the information about the DE series. The rest of the ride passed in silence, and they arrived in Leford, which was around 2600 kilometers away, in four and a half hours. The mechanic's assistant stepped off at the station and turned back to her employer.[/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]"So, where to?" she asked, smiling slightly.[/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]"There's a bar we'll drop our things at. The deal isn't 'til tomorrow, but it's best to get a lay of the land out first; I haven't been here much, you?"[/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]"Once or twice, when I was roaming the gorram planet looking for work. For a while there, I were putting my car on the maglev and checking out any city with a decent spaceport nearby. Actually, I was in Leford when I noticed Garrett's advert on the Cortex." [/BCOLOR]
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[BCOLOR=#000000]Synthia followed the teenage mobster to to bar, an unsurprisingly shady dive named "Gypsy's Rest," and Zona paid for a room for the two of them. At that point, there was nothing to do but relax, tour the area, and most annoyingly, wait.[/BCOLOR]