The Failing Frontier 15 - The Quest for El Dorado

Jubal was bored. He sat on a public bench, glancing around for his droid head unconsciously before remembering that he didn't have it anymore. He sighed and resumed scanning the crowd as they filtered through the slowly revolving doors. They came in groups or individually, most were in a hurry, some seemed lost. All of them had big plans. All except for Ari Sarkissian.

Ari walked into the airport without any luggage, wearing a casual outfit and trying to hide his identity with a baseball cap and sunglasses. He stopped as soon at he reached the departures board and stared at it, lifeless and frozen. He was sufficiently engrossed that he didn't notice Jubal walking up behind him, and only turned when Jubal grabbed his upper arm with considerable force.

“I knew you'd turn up here sooner or later,” Jubal whispered.

“What--” he sputtered in surprise. “You? You work for me, don't you?”

“I used to, yes,” Jubal answered quietly as he led Sarkissian to a corner. “But that was just a front, so that I could get close to you to claim the bounty on your head.”

Ari blanched and looked around frantically. “I--I can pay you,” he stammered desperately.

“Oh relax,” Jubal laughed. “I've received a better offer. Do you happen to know of a little junkyard operation called Moe's?”

“Are you joking?” Sarkissian stared at him in confusion and pulled his arm free of Jubal's grasp.

“I'll take that as a no. Well old Moe has certainly heard of you. He has a rather high opinion of you as well. He's putting together a crew for an operation--”

“Sorry, not interested,” Ari interrupted him. “I'm done, I'm just--”

“--to recover a lost horde of gold bars,” Jubal interrupted back.

Sarkissian's jaw dropped open. Jubal watched the confusion and avarice wrestling in Ari's eyes. The avarice won.

“I thought so,” Jubal said with a smile.

He started walking out of the airport without looking back. A few moments later, Sarkissian caught up with him.

“How much is a horde exactly?” he asked.

“Oh, just the entire contents of one of the most successful pre-war bank's vaults,” Jubal answered coyly.

“I see. And why--”

Jubal's phone rang, and he held an index finger to Sarkissian's lips as he answered it.

“The first package has been secured, Moe.”

“Well that's just dandy,” came Moe's friendly voice. “Your droid is coming along nicely, by the way. Oh and you'll never guess who just walked into my shop.”

“Edward Wierczyk, exactly as you predicted,” Jubal answered drily.

“Well, yes,” Moe began patiently, ”but he's brought a new, uh, friend with him. You may remember her from your first visit to my shop.”

“Jane fucking Kelley,” Jubal hissed.

Sarkissian's eyes widened at the name.

“But she was-- I just--” he stammered, his face reddening. Jubal pushed his index finger into Ari's lips again.

“That's a deal breaker, Moe,” Jubal growled into his phone.

Moe chuckled amiably in reply. “Oh son, we both know I'm the one holding all the cards here.”

Jubal ground his teeth together and gave Sarkissian a forced smile.

“I'm sure we'll all get along just fine,” he answered bitterly.

“You'd better,” Moe replied cheerfully, “or else you won't have much of a chance against those Infernals, will ya?”

The Failing Frontier 14 - Ari's Pound of Flesh

Ari had picked a random direction. He walked for what felt like an hour in his boxers through deserted streets. It seemed like a miracle that they found him, but they did. Around a corner, just like the last dozen he had walked past was a limousine. A well dressed driver made eye contact with Ari and nodded ever so slightly.

"Mr. Sarkissian, our patron requests a moment of your time."

His first instinct was to run, but that would be pointless. Ari had been contacted like this before for his real job.

"Please wear these.", the driver offered Ari some basic clothing, which he prompted put on and stepped into the vehicle.
The interior was dark and all light disappeared as the driver closed the door behind him. Ari sat and stared where he knew Kitano Takeshi, or his simulacrum would be sitting. A few tense moments later the limousine started the move and two small eye-shaped lights flickered to life, barely illuminating a Proxy-Mech.

The mech was an android, its AI designed to mimic perfectly a person's actions and decisions. It could also self destruct if it detected any attempt to capture it. It allowed those that could afford them to put themselves in potentially dangerous situation in total safely and if need be, total anonymity. In this case, the Proxy-Mech was a copy of Hei Long's CEO Kitano Takeshi.

"You've become a liability Mr. Sarkissian. We will no longer be requiring your services as a courier."

Ari knew the Kitano was right. The whole point of being a courier was being able to attract as little attention as possible. If he was being hunted for a bounty he could no longer guarantee he could deliver.

It continued,
"You will receive a generous compensation package..."

"Wait, I can..." Ari interjected, but he had nothing to add, no reason he wouldn't cut him out if he was in their position.

"Ari," the Android's tone softened, the business tone was gone. It reached over with a cold metal hand and placed it on his shoulder. "It's over. You've had a good run. You helped the company get where it is today, and the board hasn't forgotten that. You've got a golden parachute coming your way. Take the money, change your name and face, move to Tahiti." The android sat back in its chair. The business tone returned, "credits have been tranfered to your account. The driver will take you wherever you want to go. Thank you for your service."


The Android sat back and Ari heard the metallic grind that meant the Android was physically destroying its memory so that it was totally unrecoverable. The Android's joint locked up, it was nothing more than fancy shell now, and with it died Ari's career, the business he had poured his entire life into since he was a teenager.
Ari sat in the back for several minutes just processing. The last few days had seen the entire life he'd built for himself crumble around him. His career, his reputation, he could never show his face in the racing circuit again without the fear of getting straight up assassinated. The one thing he had left was the money. Kitano's advice was solid. He could be on a beach in Maui with a new identity by tomorrow.
Ari's finger pressed the intercom button but he remained silent, the driver's voice came over the intercom,

"Sir?"

Is that enough? Ari asked himself. Didn't it make sense to finally let himself stop fighting for more? Couldn't he just be?

"Take me to the airport.", saying the words felt like ripping off an arm.

"Of course sir."

The limousine started to move and Ari stared out the window. Looking at the city that had been his home his entire life, he just felt bitter.

Chapter 13 - Eddie Indulges Himself in a Road Side Snack

Edward watched as Ari walked away, and smiled to himself.

“He should have listened to you,” said the voice. “The road he now walks...”

“Yeah, I know. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t happy about it. Guy’s a piece of crap.”

“So are you.”

“Did I ask for commentary?”

Edward turned back and looked at Jane on the floor. She would die without help, but Edward had no idea where they were or where Jane was taking them, and from the looks of it, they’d driven to somewhere pretty remote. He didn’t particularly want to see her dead. She was a good egg in a bad position, and she’d saved his life in that fight on Titan. He owed her for that, and if he let her die right here instead of saving her in return, he didn’t think he could live with himself.

Edward sighed to himself, approached Jane, and started rooting around in her pockets for any kind of communication device. Nothing. She’d taken his away when she’d “caught” him. “What do I do here?” he asked out loud.

“Are you asking me to help? You know I need something in return if you ask me for something beyond the terms of our existing agreement.”

Edward groaned. “What do you want?”

“Hmm. A Hand? Her hand.”

“Too much.”

“Yes, it is, but she’ll die otherwise.”

Edward rubbed at his face. This whole thing was too much. He needed Jane alive for more than his altruistic reasons. She knew where Oren was. She was taking Edward right to him before this whole episode. If he saved her, she might be willing to share the information, but he doubted that would be the case if he took her hand away.

“How about a finger?” he asked out loud.

“Ooh. In the mood to bargain are we? All the fingers on one hand.”

“No! I might as well take the whole hand at that point. Two fingers.”

The voice remained quiet while it considered its position. The pause lasted a good thirty seconds. “Agreed, but I choose the fingers.”

“Okay, done.” Edward sat down onto his rear, took Jane’s left hand in his own and lifted it. “Which one first?”

“Pinky please,” said the voice. Edward grabbed the hand firmly between his own, and lifted it towards his mouth. He pushed the little finger in up to the knuckle and bit down hard, his teeth pressing deep into the flesh. Jane thankfully didn’t stir as he chewed through the flesh and bone where the joint met. The process took a few seconds, Jane’s blood pumping erratically into his mouth and throat, and dripping down his chin and shirt. He effortlessly swallowed the finger whole.

“Tasty.”

“Okay,” said Edward. “Which finger next?”

“Pinky please.”

***

Once Edward was done mutilating both of Jane’s hands, the voice indicated that he needed something sharp to get the job done. Jane had taken back her shimmer blade when she’d accosted him, and it was this that he drew from her belt. “So?”

“Stab her in the heart.”

“What?”

The voice laughed for a long time in his head. “Oh, Eddie, you’re too easy. Just cut your hand and feed her the blood. Honestly.”

Edward did as he was told, drawing the blade across his palm, using his fingers to part her lips, and dripping the blood into her throat. He winced as he executed the process. “How much blood does she need?” he asked, but as he did, she screamed and sat bolt upright, nearly head butting him in the process, before throwing up a pink tinged fluid all over the road. When that was done, she fell back to her rear, and raised her hands up to her face.

“What the fuck, Eddie?”

The Failing Frontier 12 - Jubal's New Deal

Jubal watched the laser beam blast through Jane’s shoulder. Her eyes wide in surprise, she glanced at her cratered shoulder, back at Jubal, then collapsed. Jubal approached her carefully and kicked the carving knife away. He watched blood trickle to the floor, but the blast had been hot enough to cauterize the wound almost completely. It would only take a few minutes for normal clotting to occur and for the bleeding to stop altogether. She would survive. So now he needed to decide, should he kill her for derailing his surgery? Or did being a fellow Red Hand member entitle her to live?

“I've got enough trouble without worrying about Red Hand repercussions,” Jubal said to the unconscious Jane.

He turned back to the window and zoomed in. Edward was talking to Moe and Jubal could just manage to read their lips. He caught enough words to conclude that Edward wanted a bike delivered to Hei Long. Their transaction apparently completed, Edward turned and walked away, apparently in quite a hurry. Jubal considered chasing after him, after all he hadn't spoken to Edward in far too long… and the bounty on his head was nearly as high as Sarkissian’s. At the edge of the junkyard, Edward ducked down the backstreets and ran off. Jubal let him go, he had a mission to complete. Their reunion would have to wait.

He picked up his GR-67 droid head and was startled as the electronic pulsing sound began again. He shook the head and gave it a sharp tap, and the strange signal stopped as suddenly as it had begun. Jubal frowned and stuffed it into his handbag. He heard Jane stirring weakly as he climbed down the stairs, but he ignored her. Stealthily darting in and out of high cover, Jubal made his way through Moe’s junkyard and approached the back door. He reached into his bag and pulled a short cable out from the droid’s open neck and plugged it into the maintenance interface on the security panel. Within a few seconds, the LEDs changed from red to green and the door silently slid open.

“Cakewalk,” Jubal muttered to himself as he snuck inside.

The door closed behind him and a fine spray erupted simultaneously from a dozen different directions at once. Jubal tried to dive into the next room, but the mist instantly hardened into a rubbery mess and he was frozen in mid-leap inside an oversized marshmallow. He struggled to pull his limbs free, but he was completely immobilized.

“Welcome to Moe’s,” said a nearby voice.

Jubal looked up to find Moe calmly sauntering into the entranceway that Jubal had failed to cross.

“Well this is embarrassing,” Jubal sighed.

“Oh, don't feel too bad,” Moe said kindly. “Most dirtbags don't even make it past the door! That's some gizmo you got there. GR-64?”

“-67 actually,” Jubal answered, wincing as his foam prison tightened against his body.

“Wowie, the -67 is my favorite,” Moe continued happily. “I'm sure I've got enough parts to build a new body for your droid twice over!”

“Sounds great!” Jubal wheezed as his breathing became laboured.

“‘Course, if that's what you were interested in, you would've come to see me during normal business hours. And you didn't do that, did you? So what are you here for? Now don't waste your breath lying to old Moe, I don't need to tell you that foam will crush the life out of you in a couple of minutes--give or take! I ain't no scientist after all!”

“A book,” Jubal gasped. “Sarkissian sent me to steal your copy of Paradise Lost.”

“Did he now?” Moe laughed amiably. “Ari Sarkissian is just incorrigible. He wants to have it all. You know, I bet my copy is the very last one in existence?”

“You--don't--say,” Jubal croaked as the foam expanded across his throat.

“During the war, the governments of the world tried to outlaw any and all works that pertained to supernatural evil--hell, demons and the like. They hoped it would help stifle subconscious fears of that genre and weaken the Infernals. Paradise Lost was near the top of the list of banned works, just below the Bible. 'Course I didn't believe in that mumbo jumbo and I don't agree with book burning on principle. Seemed like I was the only one who saw things that way though. I remember bonfires as high as Brooklyn Bridge. They even managed to purge whatever Internet servers hadn't been destroyed by the fighting.”

Moe regarded Jubal with a thoughtful expression for a moment, while Jubal choked and sputtered.

“I'll tell you what,” the old timer continued. “I'll let you have the book, and the droid body, if you do something for me first.”

“Ok,” Jubal managed painfully.

Moe pulled a whistle from his pocket and blew. Jubal didn't hear anything, but Moe was clearly puffing hard. Jubal felt the foam softening around him and emitting a loud hissing sound, like it was deflating. In another moment, it crumbled into popcorn-like fragments and he collapsed to the floor, desperately gasping for breath.

“Infrasonics,” Moe explained with a fatherly smile, holding up his whistle. “So, you're going to get me a key. It won't be hard to find, since it is always around the neck of Wallace Hanson. You can find him in the Caloumi building in New New York.”

Jubal nodded, still catching his breath.

“Oh, and don't leave Jane lying around on my property.”

Jubal looked into Moe’s kind, smiling face and sighed resignedly. He picked himself off the floor, collected his handbag and walked out without saying another word.

Jane regained consciousness just long enough to give Jubal her temporary address, before passing out again. He stuffed her into a self-driving taxi and got in for the ride. Cursing and grunting with effort, Jubal managed to get her into her apartment. He bandaged her shoulder before remembering that he should still be angry. He was a little concerned that she never fully regained consciousness throughout the entire process, starting to wonder if she had gone into a coma.

“Doesn't look like you've been eating your vegetables, Jane Kelley,” Jubal said to his unconscious colleague. Shrugging his shoulders, he left.

The Failing Frontier 11 - Ari's Had a Bad Week

“Alright, alright, fine, you’ve got me,” Ari shouted defeated. The woman put a gun in his face and shoved him in the trunk of her vehicle beside Edward. This was the second time this week he and Edward had been abducted together. The first time they had been Displacered right off their bikes during a race. One second they were fighting for 1st place on their grav-cycles, the next they were sprawled on the floor hog-tied and being  dragged away by a group of 3 bounty hunters.
"Watch this, it'll be good." Edward said cooly as he was being carried by over the should of a large burly man.
"Shut your mouth!", the bounty hunter yelled at his quarry just a moment before he was swept off his feet.
A skinny green haired person in a black body glove had come seemingly out of nowhere and knocked the would-be kidnapper to the ground. The two other bounties hunters that had been dragging Ari let him go and turned their attention to this new threat.
Ari did what he knew he had to, he writhed and tugged at his hastily tied bonds to free himself, and a few seconds later while everyone else was  still fighting amongst themselves Ari got to his feet and bolted, leaving his attacker, his rescuer and Edward behind without a second thought.

Ari had run until he made his way back to the street, where Grant had coincidentally been coordinating a rescue operation.

"BOSS! Oh thank sweet baby Christ! Are you ok?" Grant looked more than a little relieved to see him.

Ari stumbled and fell to his knees next to Grant. A crowd started to gather at the commotion. "Get me out of here!" Ari barked at his bodyguard.

He'd been rushed from the scene to an apartment he was told was a safe house. Grant had spent the next day on the phone handling things Ari didn't have the presence of mind to think about.
Finally, after about 24 hours Ari had calmed down enough to tell himself it would be best if he just got some sleep. It turned out that wasn't a great plan either.
When he heard the rifle fire he just ran. It didn't help much.
Now he was stuffed in a trunk. Edward pressed up uncomfortably in the close quarters. Ari banged on the trunk for a few moments hoping for a miracle but soon stopped. Eventually the car stopped, Ari waiting for the woman that kidnapped him to come for him. After what seemed like an eternity Edward broke the silence.
"You've had a shitty week haven't you Ari?"
Ari's stomach clenched. Why did Edward seem to damn calm. Just like when they were kidnapped a few days ago. Could Edward be involved in this somehow?
"Yah, I've had a shitty week Ed. What the fuck do you want?"
Ari felt Edward reach around his body in the dark space. As he did the trunk popped open to reveal the smoggy night sky and Edward's hand pulling on the emergency release bar that all vehicles had in their trunks.
"Going to bolt again this time? I wouldn't blame you."
Ari pushed Edward's arm away from him and climbed out of the trunk. They were in an area he didn't recognize. Running it seemed, wasn't the smartest idea. He sparred a look at the driver who had face planted into the steering wheel. Ari couldn't tell if she was dead or alive.
Edward climbed out of the trunk after him.
"Well Ari, what's it going to be?"

"The fuck do you mean man? What's your deal? Are you doing  this? What do you want from me?", the empty streets echoed Ari's frustration but no one else seemed to be around to hear them.

"Oh, I no more responsible for this than you are Ari. If I'm being honest I am kind of enjoying it all now. So what's it gonna be? Seems like the car is still running. We can probably get back to town before the bars close. We could have a few drinks, reminisce about old times. What do you say?", Edward might have been high, or just nuts. Ari couldn't read him at all. It seemed like he was almost excited. Ari looked back at the driver.

"Is she dead?", he asked meekly.

"Dunno", Edward responded, "let's check!", he walked around to the front of the vehicle and opened the door. "JANE!" he screamed at the woman. Edward apparently knew her. At the sounds of her name Jane moved ever so slightly before slumping back over.
Edward reached into the driver side and pulled out what Ari assumed their abductor's phone. He grabbed the unconscious woman's hand and used the finger scanner to unlock it. He then dialed a short number and calmly as ever placed it to his ear.
"Hi, I need an ambulance... Yah, I think this lady's having a heart attack..."

"Why are you helping her!", Ari lost it, "she fucking kidnapped us at gun point like 5 fucking minutes ago!"

Edward ended the call. "She's not so bad Ari, she's just in a tough spot. We've both been there, you can do some scummy things when its life or death. I don't need to remind you do I?"

Edward casually bringing up their shared past was more than Ari could handle right now, "Fuck you man", Ari turned around and started walking, still in his boxers.

"Let me call us a cab Ari, it's a long walk.", Edward called after him.

Ari didn't even look back. He just started to run back in the direction he assumed was home.

The Failing Frontier 10 - Jane's broken heart.

Jane opened her eyes.

“How long have I been here?” She thought.

It was dark and she was lying face down on the cold, wet concrete floor. A searing pain shot through her shoulder. She sat up and inspected the damage: her left shoulder was fucked, laser burned and bad. She could barely move her arm and for a good reason; the tendons and ligaments in her shoulder had been burned away leaving a hole through the bone and muscle.

The next few hours were a blur for Jane.

She woke up again in her bed, her shoulder bandaged. She couldn't remember how she’d gotten there; did she walk? She didn’t know.

She poured her self a glass of water and sat down at her table. She was tired, but it felt like she’d slept for a long time; she wondered how long she had slept, but a second later it didn’t matter.

She read her BPM it was at one hundred and ten. Her resting heart rate at one-ten! She knew it was too high and she was stressed, but she couldn’t shake it. She couldn’t shake the uncontrollable will to survive. In her mind there was only one way to do that and that was to track Ari down, capture his ass and hand him over to Oren so she could get herself a new heart. She hadn’t thought about it for a while but it was at the forefront of her mind right now.

“You need a new heart. Get a fucking heart"

She could feel it beat in her chest; she could feel it getting weaker. She could feel her body willing her to replace it. She looked at her heart rate again. It was at 120.

“Stop looking you'll only make it worse,” she thought and she was right: it did always make it worse. She calmed herself and she could feel it slow a little, but it was still pounding.

“John,” she thought. 

Jane arrived at John’s apartment which was on the fifth floor of a high rise not too far from Jane's place. John was a militia man Jane met at a bar once. She could tell he was in to her and she thought he'd probably come in handy at some point so she took his details. She figured, being a militia man, he probably had a nice stash of weapons. She knocked his door. No answer. She knocked again. Nothing.

Jane looked down the hallway noticing that the nearest apartment was a good distance away. She looked at John’s door, stepped back a few paces, ran forward and thrust her foot in to the center of it. The door swung open.

She felt a blast of pain run through her shoulder, shook it off and then entered the apartment.

The air in the apartment was crisp, the design was minimal, a painting of an antique gun, an ak47, hung on the wall and the place had a chemical smell that clung to the inside of Jane’s nostrils.

She turned the apartment upside down and found an Blacks semi-automatic pulse rifle. An expensive piece of equipment in itself, but not quite expensive enough to provide her with a heart. It would help her though, so she slung the strap over her shoulder.

As she was leaving the apartment she noticed an curious looking ball on the table near the entrance, so she picked it up and then immediately recognized it as a disruptor grenade.

“Fucking Jackpot,” she thought. She grabbed it and slid it in to the inside pocket of her robes.


It was 3am on Thursday morning and Ari Sarkisian was lying in bed, shacked up in one of his safe houses, when he heard the unmistakable sound of a pulse rifle being fired on the street outside. He threw the covers off of himself and was immediately awake. He darted out of the bedroom, through the short corridor and in to the kitchen. He stumbled in to the kitchen table and then realized he was wearing nothing but boxer shorts. He could hear that the shots were moving closer. Bang, an explosion. He grabbed his shoes and hopped in to the them. In nothing but boxers and shoes he swung the kitchen door open and started to run as fast as he could through the pitch black garden, he made left and jumped over the chain link fence that rain around the perimeter of the house. It was the wrong way. Pulse rifle fire whizzed past him; it was close enough to singe the hairs on his arm.

Jane shouted, “The next one’ll be on target.”

Ari didn’t look back, he carried on running and rounded the corner. There was his grav-cycle covered by a dirty tarp. He flung the tarp off, hopped on his bike, jammed the key in it’s slot and turned it. The bike sprang to life; a symphony of light and heat. He kicked it in to gear and threw his foot at the peddle. He reached about 100 miles per hour in around two seconds rounding the corner at top speed, but it wasn’t fast enough because about ten seconds before that Jane had launched her disruptor grenade in Sarkisian’s direction. The bike went dark and cold. Sarkisian controlled the bike until it slowed to a stop. He jumped off and started running away from Jane. 

Jane pulled the pulse rifle up, aimed and let off a single shot. It went straight through Sarkisian’s thigh. He fell to the ground.

“Alright, alright, fine, you’ve got me,” he shouted.

Jane pulled Sarkisian to his feet and marched him at gun point to one of his now deceased guards vehicles. As she was stuffing him in to the trunk he noticed Grant. He was lying on the floor. Sarkisian couldn’t tell if he was unconscious or dead.

Jane closed the lid of the boot.

She drove down the speedway, it would take a long time to get to Oren’s. She could hear Sarkisian shouting something or other but she just ignored him.

A rush of pain spiked her chest. She pulled over and read her heart rate: 190 BPM. She’d pushed herself way too hard.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck."

Jane pulled her seat belt off and threw open the door. The pain was unbearable, she clutched her chest and bent over breathing deliberately, slowly and deeply. She got it under control and then it tightened again this carried on for about five minutes.

Jane noticed headlights in the distance and then all at once It felt like a vice was crushing her heart, like it could explode at any minute.

“Stop panicking, calm down,” she thought.

Jane started to cry, tears streamed down her face and then she blacked out.

Her body lay limp at the side of the road with the headlights of a parked car illuminating her body.

The Failing Frontier 9 - Edward Actually Goes EAST

     Edward needed a bike, but what he needed more was to get the mounting pile of bounty hunters off his back. He took back streets and alleyways to avoid attention, eventually winding up at Moe's. He wound his way through the scrapyard, confident that nobody was following him. He eventually reached the gate to the heavily armed compound at the centre of the scrapyard- the place that Moe called home. He pushed the buzzer, which projected a high, tinny, buzzing sound.

     "What the fuck d'ya want?" the old man asked through a loud speaker above Edward's head. It was a new installation, and the volume was clearly jacked up as high as it could go. Edward winced.

     "Hey, Moe. It's Edward."

     "Eddie!" he bellowed. Moe was a jolly old fella, loyal to his last. He'd been a close friend of Edward's father, the two of them running the scrap yard together for years. Edward's father had saved Moe during the Infernal War, and it had cost him his life. "I can guess why you're calling, and I have what you need, but it's gonna cost."

     Moe hadn't let Edward, or anybody else, inside the compound in years. He had his supplies dropped off outside the gate once a week, and had a heavily armed service droid who came out to collect it. "You saw the race, huh?" Edward said. "Hope I'm getting the family discount."

     "Course you are. Thirty-five instead of fifty, 'cause I owe your daddy."

     A bright red light accompanied by the whistle of high powered laser discharge illuminated the window of a building in Edward's peripheral vision. Edward dove to the ground. A camera on the end of a retractable arm popped out from a box on the side of the gate and stared down at him.

     "What're you doing boy?"

     "Laser fire, up in the window over there. I've got some unwanted attention on me."

     "Ah, that one isn't here for you. S'Jubal Jenkins. Dunno what the creepy bastard wants yet. Just showed up. Doesn't know I've been watching right back. Just shot some girl up there. Kelley."

     "She's after me. She alright?"

     "Big hole in her, but Jubal won't let her die. They're kin of a kind."

     "Good. Right." Edward stood up and dusted himself off. He often wondered how it was that Moe seemed to know everything about everyone, but there it was. "About the bike. I need two. One in my classic red, and one in yellow, and I need both shipped on separate transports to Hei Long,"

     "Don't know if I have the parts for two full bikes, Eddie."

     "Doesn't matter if the red one is just a shell. It's a distraction. Ship the yellow one under a different name... James Culver. Sounds normal, right?"

     "Sounds good to me. How much trouble are you in?"

     "More than usual."

     "Alright, boy. Consider it done. You need it on credit?"

     "Stick it on the tab."

     "Last time, Eddie."

     "Thanks, Moe."

     Edward turned and walked away, picking up the pace in case Jane wasn't quite as incapacitated as Moe was making out. At the edge of the junkyard, he ducked back down the backstreets and ran off. If he was going to get a bead on Oren and get him to drop the bounty before the next race, he was going to have to work quickly.

   

     Edward turned from the alley, and there it was. The Spire: a jagged spike three hundred meters high formed of black glass, and entirely indestructible. It had sprouted up at the beginning of the war alongside a hundred others over the world, but when the war ended, and the others disappeared, this one remained.

     Like the Infernals who arrived with it, The Spire was a Tulpa, a construct of the collective human psyche, created to punish us for our transgressions. As far as the scientists could tell, The Spire was used to amplify the human subconsciousness, making it even easier for the Infernals to thrive. The idea baffled Edward. He often doubted that any of it was true. He preferred the idea that they were aliens who coincidentally looked like mythical demons and devils, or even that they came straight out of hell. That humanity could construct things capable of such cruelty was...

     It was during the war that Edward met Ari. They had been in the same unit, trying to hold the line against a storm of nightmares. It hadn't gone well. Edward and Ari had been the unit's only survivors, mainly because they had been the fastest runners. They'd both coasted on that survival to create their public personas in the wake of the war, each avoiding any mention of the other's cowardice, bound to secrecy by their shared success and shared shame.

     Edward placed his hand on the cool, sharp surface of The Spire. He couldn't remember walking closer to the thing. In fact, he couldn't remember much of anything. The ink in the glass in front of him shifted and swirled. He was swallowed into it.

     He stood in a field of waving black reeds, the sky dark above him. A figure stood opposite him, a silhouette much like his own. "Edward," it said. "Good to see you."

     "Where is he?" Edward asked.

     The silhouette smiled. Edward couldn't see it, but he knew it was happening. "He'll be on Hei Long," it said. It's voice was a perfect copy of Edward's.

    "Right. Thanks." Edward rocked in place for a second, but didn't make to leave.

     "Was there something else you wanted, Edward?"

     "No, I..." his voice trailed off. The silhouette's smile broadened further.

     "You have to ask me. You know that. I can't help unless you ask me."

     "It was you that saved me today, wasn't it? From Jane?"

     "It was."

     "Why?"

     "Because I knew you were coming here. I knew because I knew what's Oren's plan was, and I knew where Jane would be, and because I know you best of all, and I knew that if I saved you, you would come here. I knew it because I am all of you, and none of you." Edward could see its teeth now. They were yellow, crooked and very sharp. "Do you know what else I know, Edward?" Edward didn't reply. He didn't need to.



   
     Edward arrived on Hei Long, and received two things to his private quarters. The first was a notice to say that the crate containing his red bike had been destroyed in transit after a routine scan had discovered explosives planted on the engine. The note was marked with a big red CONTROLLED DETONATION stamp. The second thing was a freshly painted, egg yolk yellow Vormire Mk. 3. Not the fastest bike, but a reliable and sturdy animal. He pulled out a portable scanner and started to check it over for tampering.

     "There's nothing there," said the voice in his head. "No need to check."

     "Well pardon me if I don't trust you," Edward said aloud.

The Failing Frontier 8.1 - The Times, They are a Changin'

Displacer tech is what the professional world calls a 'disruptive technology'. Just like grav-thrusters, AI, quantum computers and the older tech like the internet, nuclear weapons, the personal computer, all the back to agriculture, for whoever had it, it was a game changer, affecting the world in unpredictable ways. It altered the daily lives of everybody totally changing how people thought about transportation, safety, medicine and a thousand other industries. Mega conglomerates had dumped billions into R&D developing it, each making separate progress and breakthroughs. If this was a better world, humanity would have all banded together and figured it out years, maybe even decades earlier. But this was not a better world. That meant that for an enterprising thief, there was profit to be made.
Ari grew up on the streets, begging and stealing to survive. That changed the day he stole his first grav-cycle. From that day forward he was a courier. Maybe the riskiest position to hold in a petty criminal empire, but a good courier would make huge money by the standards of other petty criminals.
At first it was drugs, but as time moved forward the couriers found an even more profitable business, information. In a world of quantum computers and AI encryption breakers transferring trade secrets over the air or wire was practically begging to have it stolen.
Legitimate businesses usually used heavily armoured trucks and former soldiers to guard their precious cargo, but sometimes there were cracks in the security that only a few well placed individuals knew about.
At first, the racing was just a way for Ari to launder the courier money, but it led him to his big break. Sometimes he would end up chatting with his fans. Sometimes talking would lead to drinks. And sometimes, if you found the right person, that was the right kind of drunk and the right kind of pissed off at their bosses... well that's when Ari learned to pay his employees well.
It wasn't stealing and selling the information that made Ari a wealthy man. It made him a nice chunk of change, but all the big players were publicly traded companies. Knowing who to bet on and who to bet against when it came to the tech race made sure Ari came out on top.
That job made Ari a lot of enemies and even lost him a few friends, but Ari would never need to work another day in his life.
But like they say, the worst thing you can do to a person is give them everything they ever wanted. Fortunately, Ari always wanted more.

Tuesday had arrived and Ari had been smuggled into the venue early. The recent attempt of his life had certainly frazzled him, but failing to show up to his public appearance would make some of Ari's customers nervous. Almost as importantly the races were important networking opportunities for him. So with Grant's assurances about the extra man power as well as the venue's security being on high alert Ari had made his way to the track and was warming up on the simulator. By the time he had to make his way to the track Ari was feeling like his old self again. The ritual of the whole thing calmed him. Gearing up, mounting his brand new grav-cycle, courtesy of Hei Long automotive, and rolling up to the starting gate as the announcer called his name and the crowd cheered were all familiar enough to get him into the zone. Beside him Ed Wierczyk looked over at him with a strange, almost cocky look. Ed's bike looking practically cobbled together but something about his demeanour had changed. Ed looked over at him, and to Ari's great surprise, gave him a thumbs up and a coy smile. Ari, knowing the crowd was watching, returned the gesture, but this was certainly off-putting for someone that had been his rival. Was this just a display of good sportsmanship from Ed? Ari found that unlikely. He knew something, or he'd done something.

"Grant!"

"Yiah boss, what's up?" his bodyguard replied.

"They checked out this bike? It's totally clean?"

"Absolutely, triple check by our guys and Hei Long's. All the racers were scanned as they went in too. You're totally safe in there. If racers start dying on the track all the sponsors would back out. You're golden, Boss!"

All the same Ari felt the off. Was Ed involved in the attempt on his life?

"BOSS!", Grant's voice pulled Ari back to reality, "Are you good?"

"I'm fine. Head in the game..."

The Failing Frontier 8.2 - Photo Finish *or* Ari and the Goblet of Fire

Grant was on top of his game. He had his security team coordinating with at least 3 other teams. A lot of people were watching. Hei Long had been able to cover up his boss' near miss with an assassin. They had even been able to spin it as a successful field test of their new safety feature, with a celebrity's face to sell it. But the more incidents the harder to spin.
Grant put his focus on his boss, who was sitting just off where he should have near the starting line. He was staring at one of his fellow racers.
"BOSS! Are you good?"

"I'm fine. Head in the game..."

The countdown to the race's start appeared over the track. The sounds of grav-thrusters stirred the crowd into a frenzy and Grant allowed himself to relax just a bit. Once the racers were moving the Displacer safeguards made it almost impossible for someone to get hurt.
"Jubal, get down to the exit gate and I'll meet you there."

From his position just outside the exit gate Grant watched the racers aggressively vie for position. As they approached the finish line his boss was in the lead but he saw Wierczyk had actually hooked himself onto his boss' cycle. The two were were leaning into each other and the extra weight actually made the grav-cycles make slight contact with the ground and shower white sparks behind them.
As they rode over the finish line in tandem it looked like both of them tried to get an extra burst of speed to push themselves over the line to claim first place.

As they tore over the line a short familiar flash stole Grant's attention. The grav-cycles spun off and crashed as their riders were no where to be seen.

"Aw, shit!"

The venue quieted down. Other racers crossed the finish line as normal. The pit crews rushed over the two fallen grav-cycles only to arrive there and scratch their heads uselessly.
The excited cheers of the crowd slowly gave way to confused silence.

"Boss! Oi, BOSS! BOSS!!! Can you hear me?" Grant looked around. Jubal looked just as shocked as him and apparently extremely frustrated. Grant issued a single order, "Fucking find him!"

Jubal rushed off with conviction. As soon as he was gone Grant's shoulders slumped as he sighed audibly.

"I'm so fucking fired."

The Failing Frontier 7 - All Roads Lead to Moe's

“Come in, come in,” Grant Marshall urged.

Jubal walked in casually and took a seat on the couch lining the wall of Grant’s office. He wore a black bodyglove that covered him from neck to toes, tight enough to reveal a wiry musculature and an unusual absence of shape or bulges of any kind. His lips were stained purple and his eyes were obscured behind a pair of sunglasses. His emerald green hair was styled in a faux hawk. He carried only a spherical handbag.

“So how does a two-bit bit bodyguard like you end up with an office bigger than most apartments in New New York?” Jubal asked.

Grant forced a smile and leaned on a cane as he made his way over to a tray of crystal decanters.

“Workin’ for Sarkissian ‘as its perks,” Grant explained as he poured himself a glass of blue liquid. He motioned to Jubal with the decanter, but he shook his head.

“Dulls the senses,” Jenkins replied, then licked his lips. “I prefer the world... raw.”

Grant shrugged and replaced the decanter. He limped forward to stand in front of Jubal as he sipped his drink.

“Alright, here’s the deal,” Grant began. “Sarkissian’s got a job for you to do. You pull this off and they’ll be more jobs. Better paying jobs, if you know what I mean.”

“You’re being literal,” Jubal replied, clearly bored. “A child would know what you mean.”

“Just let me finish, alright?” Grant replied, his patience clearly beginning to fray. He proceeded to lay out the plan in painful detail. Jubal’s attention began to wander after the first five minutes. Ten minutes later, he realized he had stopped paying attention altogether for some time, and yet Grant seemed to be moving slowly enough that he still understood exactly where his plan was going.

“And then,” Grant finished dramatically. “Payday.”

“Right,” Jubal answered. “So it all begins with the junk yard in the East end?”

“Yeah, that’s the ticket, govna,” Grant confirmed.

“Fine,” Jubal replied with a sigh. “I’ll handle it.”

He stood up from the couch and began sauntering over to the door, but paused as it slid open in response to his presence.

“Say, is your boss around, by any chance?” he asked casually, his hand slipping inside his handbag.

“Not at the moment,” Grant replied. “Apparently, he had a bit of an accident earlier tonight. He’s elected to get some rest.”

“An accident? Sounds dreadful,” Jubal commented conversationally. “Was he hurt?”

“No, not at all,” Grant answered. “He has some fancy, expensive tech that saved his arse.”

“Thank goodness,” Jubal continued. “I do hope he gets over the shock of the whole experience. I am so looking forward to seeing him in person.”

“Well, he’ll be racing on Tuesday,” Grant said. “Get this job done right, and I’ll get you into our private box. You can shake his hand after he wins again.”

“Perfect,” Jubal smiled. “I’m looking forward to it already.”

The Failing Frontier 6 - Jane, a knife and a piss fetish.

Jane, still tied to the chair, shimmied across the room to the kitchenette. Using her teeth she opened what looked like a cutlery drawer; unfortunately for her it contained only cloths. Looking around the room she spotted another drawer above the sink which would have been eye level if she was standing. She wasn't; it was too high for her to reach. 

“Fucking weird,” she thought.

With that she moved, or rather hopped, to the sink. She wrapped her mouth around the handle of a carving knife that was on the drying rack, arranged the blade so the sharp end was facing away from her, bent over as much as she could and spat it out. It fell, bounced off her thigh and dropped on to the floor, landing about a meter away. 

“Oh for fu—”

Jane eyed the blade then rocked sideways towards it, she fell, landed on the floor and broke her fall with her arm. With the blade now behind her, she started to root around with her bound hands. After about two minutes she eventually grasped the blade; at which point her bindings had loosened enough for her to slip her hands free.

She stood up and looked around for her shimmer blade, but it was nowhere to be found.

“You little shit,” she thought.

“Fine,” she said and grabbed the carving knife from behind the toppled chair then slipped it in to the scabbard concealed inside her cloak.

About ready to go, but with no clue where she should go she checked her watch: her BPM was running at 170.

“Stress’ll do that to a bitch,” she thought and then she paced out of Edward’s apartment.



Jane burst out of the apartment entrance in to the street. It was four thirty two in the morning and dark. the bustling ruins of New York weren’t so bustling at this time; the streets were mostly lined with the sleeping bodies of the forgotten many: men, women and children who were homeless because getting a job meant having an education, something the majority of people didn’t have nowadays. As she walked she looked at the sleeping faces and realized how lucky she was. She'd had a rough day, but these people: they'd had a rough life. She walked and seemed to have been walking in the direction of her motel, but on her way she noticed a little girl, wide awake, wedged in between her two sleeping parents. She motioned for the little girl to come over to her. The little girl stared at her, unperturbed by her request.

Jane produced a small green disc from her inside pocket and flashed it at the little girl who then jumped to her feet and made her way over. By the time the little girl had arrived in front of Jane her parents were awake and staring wide eyed; waiting to see what Jane had in store for their child.

Jane squatted down and asked, “Did you see a man come past here about this high, carrying a bag?”

The child nodded.

“Okay, did you see which way he went at the end of the road?”

“Left,” said the child. Jane placed the green disc in the child’s hand, her parents smiled and the child returned to them.

Left meant east, so he’d gone to the residential districts. That didn’t help Jane in the slightest; she didn’t know who he'd be going to see on that side of town. If he’d have gone right then she’d have had leads to follow up on. Jane went right anyway.



Jane sat in the waiting room outside Watts Daily’s office. Watts Daily was the assistant to the grav-cycle league event coordinator, so he knew before anyone else when and where the next race was going to be held. That was prized information considering the location of a race was only ever announced to the public six hours before it was scheduled to take place.

Jane had been blackmailing him for weeks because, like any good bounty hunter, she knew that the best way to get someone to talk was to dig up some really embarrassing shit and threaten to reveal it to their nearest and dearest. A few weeks earlier Jane had broken in to Watts' office, hacked his computer and found photographs of beautiful women peeing all over his chest and face. Watts had a piss fetish and luckily for Jane he didn’t want his wife or children to know.

Watts' Secretary answered the phone and then looked over at Jane and said “You can go through now honey.”

Jane burst through the door making Watts flinch.

“Hey Watts, you piss loving ponce. I want the details for the next race. I won't ask twice”

“Oh charming. I do always look forward to your visits,” Watts said.

Jane sat in the chair opposite Watts and put her feet on his desk. “Well I’m a heart beat away from getting real charming with your folks, I’m sure they’d love to see your collection.” 

Watts rolled his eyes. “Alright, alright, It’s in Hei Long on Tuesday”

“Oh great, why’d he pick that shit hole?”

“Don’t ask me. You think I want to go there?”

“Eddie got a preference when he’s shopping for grav-cycles?” she said.

“Oh, he’s only going to one place with his bank roll, and that’s the scrap heap over on the east side. I’ve heard the guy over there takes pity on him and fixes him up; sad really,” he said.

“Yea whatever. I’ll be back,” she said.

“I’m sure you will,” he said.

Jane set off on her way to the scrap heap on the east side with two things on her mind: her knife and her bounty.

The Failing Frontier 5 - Edward Comes Down Hard

     Edward's mouth was parched and dry, and his stomach was twisted with hunger. He rolled onto his side and opened his eyes. The room was dark. Night time. The clock next to the bed read 03:35.

     "Hello Eddie," came a voice from the dark. Edward leapt sideways off the bed and grabbed the nearest thing he could get his hands on, holding out in front of him in a defensive stance. It took a couple of seconds, but he realized that the thing he was holding out was the stuffed octopus toy his mother had bought for him as a child, a stylized version of which he'd had stencilled onto every bike he'd ever owned.

     "Who... who's there?"

     "Ah, come on Eddie," said the voice. "You know me. Titan? The bar fight?"

     "J... Jane?"

     "Jane," she replied. Then she burst out of the darkness from the space between the wardrobe and the table, and smashed Edward, over his nightstand, shattering the lamp in the process, and onwards into the wall.

     "Ow," said Edward. "Whassat for?"

     "You pissed off the wrong guy. Decent money for bringing you down, and I'm gonna claim it. Sorry. Just business," and with that she plunged a blade in to his chest.




Edward woke with a start, and sat bolt upright. His mouth was parched and dry, and his stomach was twisted with hunger. His head was pounding from the Reflect. He rubbed at his eyes. It was dark. Middle of the night. He looked at the clock. 03:35.

     "Hello Eddie."

     Edward didn't hesitate. He went straight for his desk drawer and grabbed the snub-nosed Yutani pistol from its hiding place, pointed it towards the space between the wardrobe and the table and pulled the trigger. The bolt caught Jane mid-air, the blade shimmering in her hand. It didn't arrest her movement, but she doubled up in the middle and landed slumped over him.

   
 
     "Wakey wakey," said Edward, dumping a bucket full of mostly melted ice over Jane's head. She gasped into consciousness. "Hello Jane. Nice to see you. How are you doing?" He'd tied her to the chair using the cord from the coffee maker.

     "You shot me."

     "I stunned you. You're lucky there. I wasn't really thinking in the moment, just pulled the trigger. Didn't have it set to kill, so you're still breathing. How you feeling?"

     "Untie me."

     "Why?"

     "You untie me, I forget this happened."

     "I don't think so. I saw you on Titan, so I know what you're capable of. Can't trust you even one-tenth as far as I can throw you. Only way I can get you to back off is to have something I can threaten you with. Who hired you?"

     Jane sighed. "You know I can't tell you." Edward smiled at her. He picked the pistol back up from the night stand and pointed it at her.

     "Jane, I saw you on Titan, which is why I don't trust you, but you saw me there too, so you can believe me when I tell you that I don't want to kill you, but I will if I have to, and you can also trust me when I tell you that this isn't set to stun anymore." He placed the pistol against Jane's forehead and put his finger on the trigger. Who hired you? Ari?"

     "Ha! Ari. No. He's in a lot more trouble than you are."

     "Then who?" He pressed the barrel hard against her, pushing her head backwards.

     Jane grunted, exasperated. "Oren Spillane. Guy hates you. Said you stole from him. Put an open hit out. Good money. There will be others."

     "Well, shit."

     "Yeah. Untie me?"

     "No. I'll send someone for you once I'm far away. You can wait right here."

     "Fair enough." Edward started shoving his things into his bag. He gathered it all together in a few seconds, stood and made for the door. "Wait, I have a question," said Jane. Edward stopped, and turned.

     "Go ahead," he said.

     "How'd you know where I was. I had a shimmer-field on."

     "Trade secret. Anything else?"

     "Where are you going?"

     "Nice try. You'll have to work that one out the hard way."

     "Not worth it," she said. "Bigger fish to fry. Watch out for yourself."

     "Need anything before I go?"

     "Scratch my nose?"

     Edward smiled, walked over an obliged. Once Jane was satisfied, she playfully snapped at his fingers with her teeth. Edward jerked away, and she laughed at him. "See you later Eddie," she said.

     Edward turned to leave, and before he closed the door behind him he said "it's Edward."




     He stepped onto the elevator, and pressed the button for the parking lot. No way he was walking out of the main entrance. He was likely to catch a bullet that way. Oren Spillane had put the hit out on him for something that had happened years before: something Edward thought he had long since gotten away with. Seems like the old junk trader had found out what Edward had done, and now his chickens were coming home to roost.


     There were very, very few options available to Edward. Jane had told him that the hit was an open one, which meant that every hunter in his general vicinity with a weapon and a dream in was gunning for him. The only way to call them off would be to force Oren to call off the hit, or to make it so that one way of the other, Oren couldn't pay, but before he could do either, Edward would have to find him. Luckily, Edward knew exactly who to ask.

The Failing Frontier 4 - The (Re)birth of Jubal Jenkins

This was supposed to be an easy job. But it looked like Jubal Jenkins had not yet snapped his string of bad luck. He just couldn't get out from under the shadow of the disaster in Hong Kong. God damn Hong Kong.

Jubal sighed. At least Senator Wong would never find him again. Not only were the ruins of Old New York the last place anyone would think to look for James Wuthers, but there was no more James Wuthers. Jubal slipped involuntarily into the memories of his horrendous rebirth.

The Hong Kong job generated so much heat, it became clear that if infamous bounty hunter James Wuthers didn’t immediately disappear forever, he would be promptly shot dead by the first armed government official who spotted him anywhere on the planet. Even the Moon probably had shoot-on-site standing orders. A makeover wasn’t going to cut it, so James took more extreme measures.

Two wrongs may never make a right, but sometimes, cumulated bad luck pays off. The sex change surgery was only partially complete when James’ anesthetic wore off. He woke up screaming in pain just in time to watch his overpriced surgeon get gunned down by a bounty hunter eager to claim her prize.

“You’ll pay for that, Jane Kelly,” Jubal muttered angrily to himself. “Wherever you are now.”

Almost inexplicably, what was left of James Wuthers had escaped the operating room, trailing tubes and sensor wires. Between the botched surgery, incomplete hormone therapy and fresh scars, he had succeeded in becoming unrecognizable. He was certainly no longer a man, but he had failed to become a woman either. He was simply Jubal Jenkins, born bloody and screaming, just like everyone else. Sort of.

For the hundredth time, Jubal told himself it had worked out for the best. He smiled at the thought of someone attempting to describe him to the police. Then frowned as his confusion over his own sexual identity resurfaced.

Shaking his head, Jubal focused again on the scene below him. Ari Sarkissian’s grav-cycle was a flaming wreck in the center of the highway. From his perch atop a skyscraper neighboring the same road, Jubal adjusted his cybernetic eyes with a thought, zooming in on the figure crumpled on the shoulder. It was definitely Sarkissian, but how he had ended up there was a mystery to Jubal. As he watched in astonishment, Sarkissian rose to his feet and casually shook himself clean. After another moment, he sat down calmly.

Jubal reached over to the severed head of a GR-67 droid sitting beside him. Gently tapping a control, he triggered the voice synthesizer, which relayed a message through a dozen randomly selected relays to Sarkissian’s personal communicator.

"Well damn! You're a lucky guy Mr. Sarkissian,” Jubal keyed. “Guess I'll get you next time."

He terminated the transmission and continued watching Sarkissian.

“All bad things must come to an end,” Jubal said to the droid head conversationally. “And Mr. Sarkissian down there is the key to ending my losing streak.”

The GR-67 head beeped noncommittally, then suddenly began emitting an electronic pulsing sound.

Jubal looked at it suspiciously, remembering having heard the same sound before.

"I've got to get you a new body," he said with genuine concern.

Just then, his communicator vibrated gently. Jubal tapped the synthesizer control on the droid head again before answering.

"Grant," Jubal keyed. "How can I help you?"

"Jubal, old chum," Grant Marshall replied. Jubal tried to place his accent, still unable to decide if it was English or Australian. Maybe South African? "I've got a proposition for you."

"I'm listening," Jubal replied.

"My boss needs a few extra hands for a new job," he explained. "I volunteered to vouch for you. Think you might be interested?"

"You work for Sarkissian, right?" Jubal answered, a grin slowing spreading across his painted lips.

"Yeah, that's the ticket."

"Oh I'm definitely interested..."

The Failing Frontier 3 - Ari's Nighttime Stroll

The worst thing you can do to a person is give them everything they ever wanted. Ari had always believed that. To be fair, Ari had never had his knee-cap sliced off by a pissed off bounty hunter. Of course in this day and age they could fix that overnight IF you could pay and Ari paid his people well. Better than the Red Hand in fact. Better than any racer, even the Golden Boy of Grav-Cycle racing, should be able to manage.

Grant Marshall had already had his new knee 3D printed and displacer swapped. The technician said he could leave within the hour. 

"Ain't science grand!" Ari remarked as he looked at the almost imperceivable lines that marked where the new and old tissue met. These days it was possible to fix, or even improve, just about anything part of you.

"Jane's a real bitch, but I did have it coming" Grant ignored his employers musings. "I suppose sneakin' up on her with a bat didn't buy me too many 'professional courtesy' points."

"Well try not to piss her off next time. That knee cost me more than I won last night."

"Like you give a damn", the bodyguard said coyly.

He did have a point. Ari shrugged his shoulders, "Meh... it's the principal of the... blah blah blah" as he waved it off. 

Grant had a good chuckle, "Oi, maybe next time you bring me on the A-team instead of leaving me behind to get slice-and-diced"

Ari's expression soured as his employee mentioned his real source of income in such a public place. He started to feel the blood rise to his face, but he managed to calm himself. 

Grant's wide eyed smile slipped away quickly. "Yiah, sorry boss."

Ari sat at the end of the bed, "No harm done, anyway since the last bit of business I did I need to keep the bounty hunters away 'til everything is done and delivered."

"About that," Grant interrupted, "The Red Hand technically allows its employees to take contracts even when they end up working against other members. They see it as a way to 'let the cream rise to the top' so to speak. Anyway, I know a bloke... well sort of a bloke. Goes by Jubal. He's good and he currently he's quite motivated to contract himself out. Needs the money for lawyers or some nonsense. The Hand's got really shite benefits."

Ari thought a moment, "Alright bring him on. Make sure he knows the ropes, and head back to the hotel after you're released. I'm going to take a ride."

"Thanks boss! You sure you don't wanna wait for me. Jane's not the type to give up after one try."

Ari considered it. He pulled out the surveillance footage from his bike. Looked clear, and he did have a lot of work to do. "I'll be fine."

________________________________________________________________________

Ari's bike pulled itself up to the entrace of the hospital, "Hello Beautiful!" he exclaimed as he approached his favorite possession.

"Hello PRIMARY USER, where are we heading today?" his grav-cycle's AI spoke back through the helmet's speakers.

"Manual mode", Ari hoped on and sped off as fast as he could. As he pulled onto the main expressway he received a call. The display said it was from Grant's phone.

"Auto drive... Answer call... Grant, is it all setup?"

The voice that responded was not Grant's. Although he didn't recognize it. 

"Oh you are definately setup Mr. Sarkissian."

The next moments were a combination and bright lights, loud sounds and pain. Ari came to his senses lying on the side of the road. The first thing he saw that the inferno that used to be his grav-cycle. Traffic had already routed itself neatly around the wreck and the soothing automated voice of the AI was playing on his helm speakers, 

"You have been involved in a traffic accident. Please stay calm. Emergency services are on the way. Thank you for using Hei Long's new DisplacerSafe technology. DisplacerSafe, saving lives since CURRENT YEAR"

Ari calmed his nerves and rose to his feet to look himself over. Scrapes and bruiser but otherwise he seemd fine. He sat back down and took some deep breathes and to watch his favorite grav-cycle burn. At least he wasn't burning with it.

"Well damn!" the same unknown voice came back on over his headset, apparently the call had never disconnected, "you're a lucky guy Mr. Sarkissian. Guess I'll get you next time."

The Failing Frontier 2 - Jane Has a Bad Time

Jane didn’t see the bat but she felt it. She slumped to the pavement with an almighty thud. She woke three hours later with an eye the size of a grapefruit and a cracked rib. Before her beating she was waiting in the alley opposite the Gold Star, the Ruins’s one and only luxury hotel, for that asshole Ari Sarkissian. 

Luckily for Ari one of his entourage had spotted a shady looking cloaked woman waiting in the alley opposite the hotel and called it in. Grant, Ari’s bodyguard, a six foot, English man with a bad temper recognised Jane from his days as a bounty hunter with the Red Hand, put two and two together and decided to pay her a visit with his weapon of choice an iron baseball bat, an antique from the days when they still used to play baseball. 

Full of rage and pain Jane did something she shouldn’t have. She stormed across the road, heart going ten to the dozen, head thumping, she thrust open the doors of the Gold Star, paced to the counter, grabbed the receptionist and pulled him over the counter leaving him in a heap on the floor. Breathing out of her arse, Jane bellowed in to the receptionists face. 

 “Ari Sarkissian, which room? tell me before I do something rash”

The receptionist stuttered 

 “Uh, uh, I-I can’t give out that in, information miss. I’m sorry. No! please don’t!”

Jane leapt over the counter and started shredding through the customer records. There it is she thought. He was in room 207 on the second floor.  

The lift doors opened. The second floor. Jane stood in the lift and calmed her breathing.

 In… out… in… out.

She checked her watch. Her BPM was at 165; which was too high. Anything higher than 185 could've been lethal. Jane had a heart condition which she described as inconvenient, but it would’ve been more aptly described as crushingly debilitating at the best of times and utterly terrifying at the worst. 

She walked down the corridor. She took her time. She was fucking mad but it wasn’t worth her life. 

She arrived at room 207 and knocked. She pulled a curved blade from out of her cloak and clicked the button on the hilt. The blade disappeared leaving only the hilt and a faint heat haze where the blade should have been. 

The door opened and as it did Jane moved quickly and precisely pushing Grant against the wall inside the room using nothing but pure technical skill. A fifth dan in Judo comes in handy when taking on mother-fuckers twice your weight, is what she would have said had you asked her about it. With the blade pressed against his throat she asked.

“Is Ari here? oh and put the bat down, yea?” 

Thud. The bat hit the floor. Grant replied. 

“Na he’s gone petal, you’re too late” 

With that Jane pulled the blade swiftly down, missing all of Grant’s important bits but slicing straight through his knee cap. Jane was cruel but gravity dealt him an even crueler blow; he landed straight on his open knee cap breaking it in to two separate pieces. It must of hurt because he let out an inhuman shriek. 

An unsympathetic Jane said.

“That’s for the face shit house” 

Jane believed Grant when he said Ari wasn’t in the room but she checked anyway. He wasn’t there. So where the fuck was he? She’d probably have to wait for the next race to find out, but the day wasn’t a total disaster: she’d had a tip about where Idiot Eddie was staying and although his bounty wasn’t anywhere near as high as Ari’s, it was still generous.

The Failing Frontier 1 - Edward and The Race in the Ruins

     Edward Wierczyk took the corner at an ungodly speed, kicking out the rear end of his grav cycle until he was near horizontal and trusting the repulsors to push him away from the oncoming ruined, low wall. It was a risky move, but he’d calculated right, the lower end of the cycle bumping softly against the wall, allowing him to kick off in a new direction.

     Somebody behind him wasn’t so lucky. A second later, he heard the unmistakable smash and whine of a detonating grav engine. He smiled under his scarlet helmet, and gunned the engine. The readout in his visor read 2ND in bright green letters. He knew the man in first too well.That man had come first in the Europa-Titan league, the Paris invitational, and the Olympus Mons cup, and Edward would be damned if he was taking this one too. Not in his “hometown.”

     Ari Sarkissian, the golden boy of professional grav-cycle racing was resplendent in royal blue, riding a top of the line Hei Long Power 3000 that he’d apparently received as a gift from theirCOO. He was adored by the fans, beloved by the sponsors, and outright hated by his competition. None of them knew Ari the way Edward did though, and if they did, he wouldn’t be nearly so popular. In fact, he’d likely be stoned to death.

     Edward took the next corner the same way he took the last. Ari hadn’t mastered these turns quite the way Edward had, and suddenly the pair found themselves nearly neck and neck. Edward grabbed at his belt, and pulled out his pulse chain. It was time to get personal.

     Pulling in close, proximity icons flashing on his visor, Edward lashed out, the end of the chain latching on to the rear end of Ari’s bike. Ari looked back and caught sight of Edward, and he swore he could see the exasperated look on Ari's face through his helmet. Ari reached back with a free hand and tried to grab at the end of the chain to detach it, so Edward keyed the activation icon on the handle.

     Sparks of deep red energy played down the length of the chain. When they reached Ari’s hand, he jolted away and his bike momentarily wobbled. The energy continued down the length of Ari’s bike, building a static light around the frame of the cycle. Another few seconds of this, and the grav engine would start to struggle. A couple seconds more, and it would either cycle down or explode. Edward was hoping for the former. An explosion would throw him from his cycle and end the race for both of them. It would also hurt, despite the protective displacement fields they were both wearing.

     Unfortunately, Edward would never get to find out which outcome would be achieved. Ari made a sudden and risky swerve, dragging Edward out of his seat and causing his bike to careen off in to a wall where it exploded. Edward was dragged bodily through the air for a few seconds, but at the next corner, he watched helplessly as the concrete floor rushed up to meet his face. Then a bright flash.

     He slammed into the cushioned interior of the fallen racers pit face first and rolled over twice. Two medics immediately rushed up to aid him. The displacer tech had done its job, teleporting him out of the field before he could experience a messy death. He waved off the medics, pulled off his helmet and climbed back to his feet.

     Across the room, Dinah O’Connor waved at him. “Nice turn, Eddie. I tried the same, didn’t work out.”

     Edward hated being called Eddie. “Thanks Di. That was you popping behind me?”

     “Yup. I think I’d have made crash of the week, but I think you just outclassed me.” She pointed behind Edward.

     Living large on the screen in a repeating replay was the image of Edward flying along gripping on to the end of the pulse chain like a superhero while his bike cartwheeled through the air exploding into pieces behind him. Underneath the caption read IDIOT EDDIE EXPLODES AGAIN.

     “Shit.”

     Edward returned to his hotel room, which overlooked what remained of Times Square, and sat on the corner of his bed. He’d lost the last three races in similar ways, so desperate to place first that he took stupid risks to defeat his rival. Consequently he hadn’t placed, and that meant less money from his sponsors and a grand total of zip in winnings. He’d barely be able to afford the transport costs to the Hei Long Triad Station for the next race, let alone money to “repair” his bike (which basically amounted to buying a whole new bike from the look of the replays.)

     He fell backwards onto the bed and sighed, rubbing at his eyes with his fingers. He was feeling low, tired, weak. His head and back were hurting from the awkward crash landing he’d made. He knew what he needed.

     He got up, went to the corner and rooted through his suitcase. Tucked in a little pocket in the lower left corner, he found his salvation. Black Reflects: the highest quality you could get, taken from the burnt and shattered windows from the very first days of the Infernal Invasion, each piece cost a small fortune and was only good for one bump.

     He placed a one inch shard onto the bedside table, sliced the scarred tip of his right index finger on the edge, wiped the blood across the glass, then stared down into it,

     And Edward saw eternity.