Bounty Inc. – Prologue Preview

Three days after his twentieth birthday, Wyn Kelda buried his father in front of a crowd of six thousand employees. On his deathbed, Iolas had told his son two things. First, that attendance at the funeral was required of all employees. Second, that he should terminate all contracts with the disgusting non-humans and never make such a mistake again. Wyn knew the official cause of death had been an alien pathogen that had jumped from a client, mutated, and ruined his father’s immune system before doctors had a chance to do anything—but this was not what had made him speciesist. Iolas Kelda had just always been that way.

There were whispers of assassination. Rumors that Iolas had been murdered for his company’s practices. Practices like producing specialized pieces for equipment to create demand, then raising prices and therefore raising profits. Iolas Industries absorbed other companies and corrupted their trades, seeking only to further its own coffers. Iolas had been a businessman at heart, however small that one organ of his may have been.

Wyn knew, too, that some wondered how the son would match up. Trained beneath one of humanity’s greatest corporate leaders, his education had been tailored for the role. But he had always been timid at public gatherings, peaceable by nature, lacking his father’s decisiveness and occasional cruelty. A business valued at well over sixty billion Raiyrium credits had fallen into a young man’s lap, a business that was a central pillar to Terrask’s economy. Millions of jobs, billions of raikers. The world held its breath as it waited to see what would happen. Some were more patient than others.

“I’m so sorry for your loss, Mr. Kelda.” Sasha Sterra spoke in a sickly sweet voice that unnerved Wyn. The simpering executive was tall, her height accentuated by a long black dress that was quite revealing up top and down the back. She had long black hair and the face of a twenty-year-old woman despite being in her fifties. Money could do wonders for looks.

For Wyn, his wealth had only been a prison, walling him off from friends, from a normal education. It had kept him away from the public and fed him exactly what his father had wanted to feed him. But it had also provided Wyn with a comfortable life that made it hard to complain. At least to anyone else who could hear past the raikers. Always fed, always comfortable, and he always had access to the data network for all the entertainment or information he needed. As long as his tutoring progressed well. How could he possibly be unhappy?

“Thank you, Sasha,” Wyn said. The day was bright, a stark contrast to how he was supposed to feel. The sun shone down into the large courtyard outside of Iolas Industries. Colorful flowers filled the gardens to either side of the many seats. A holographic image of his father, digitally slimmed and looking a little more muscular than he ever had in life, was displayed over his casket. Beyond, a beautiful fountain painted a tiny rainbow among an array of sculptures. Terrask’s wealthiest came to pay their respects at the wake, and Wyn grew tired of each and every one of them. Not that he would ever admit to such. No, he would smile and accept their expression of sorrow, knowing deep down that their biggest worry would be what Wyn was going to do next. They needn’t worry too much; Wyn already had a plan.

“I can’t imagine how hard his death weighs on you,” she added, placing a cold hand to his shoulder. Cold enough to feel through his jacket. Were her hands made of ice? Wyn held back a shiver. “I’m sure you haven’t been sleeping well. I have some makeup for those bags under your eyes.”

Well, she was partially right. “No worries, Sasha, I’ll be getting my rest soon enough. There was a lot to take care of before my father’s funeral.”

Wyn could almost see the executive’s brain churning, a small fire of panic at the back of her eyes. “I thought Charmout arranged all the funeral plans.”

“He did, which was a great help to me.”

“Then what occupied you so?” When Wyn did not respond immediately, she added, “If there is anything you need assistance with in this time of transition, please let me know.”

“Your assistance is appreciated, Sasha, but entirely unnecessary. But I do promise to put your name in for recognition and willingness to help the company succeed.”

Sasha blinked. “Put my name in?” She scrutinized him. Gone was the caring facade. A chill colder than her hand permeated the air between them.

Wyn gestured over his Vico, and a virtual interface flared to life across the back of his forearm. Various icons popped up, overflowing with notifications, his father’s associates, friends, and sycophants reaching out to send condolences personally. He had responded to the first twenty before it had become overwhelming, and now there was just a constant red number increasing with each new message. The time and date blinked to one side, as did one of the icons, a newly created communications ID only one other person knew about. The message he’d been waiting for had arrived. “Actually, there is something you could do for me, if you don’t mind.”

That simpering look returned to Sasha’s face, followed by a bright, big smile and a voice so sweet it was acidic. “Of course, Mr. Kelda. Anything you need.”

“As of twelve minutes ago, Iolas Industries was sold. New ownership will begin tomorrow. During the transition, please have your department continue as usual until new orders are issued. Would you be able to pass this along to the others? There are still a few things I need to wrap up personally.”

As Wyn spoke, Sasha’s face twisted and contorted. First to shock, then to open anger. “You sold the company?”

Wyn held her gaze, even if it turned his insides to jelly. “Um, yeah.”

“Why?”

Wyn hadn’t expected a happy response, which is why he hadn’t made the executives of his father’s company aware. But her outright anger was unanticipated. He would have expected them to want him out of the way. Except now there was a mysterious person hovering over their heads, wasn’t there? And the person they expected to bully into submission had bailed. Wyn felt the blood rush from his face as he realized the reaction he had instigated. 

“I’m not made for this business, Sasha,” he justified, aware of the nervous edge to his voice. “You wouldn’t have liked me as the president.”

“Who did you sell it to?”

“Gianna.”

“Gianna? The person who owns ninety thousand sandwich shops across Terrask and the outlying colonies?”

“They’re up to a hundred thousand now.” Wyn flicked across the virtual display on his wrist and sent a packet of information to Sasha as he went through it. “The business plan is solid, and they want their child to have something to do. As long as they stick to it, all should be like my father never left. I have a clause that reverts company ownership to the executives if certain criteria aren’t met, but there are loopholes in it. I didn’t have a lot of time to set up the contract. Either way, I think it should turn out fine. The new president will be lazy and easy to boss around.”

“You’re a fucking disgrace.” 

Wyn jumped at the acid in her voice. He looked into her hateful gaze and shuddered. He tried to talk, but his mouth failed to form any words, the moisture evaporating away. Instead he croaked, and she jabbed a finger at his chest. 

“Your father raised you for this role. He spent so many resources on your education, on your life! Instilling you with the knowledge to succeed him. And as soon as he’s in the grave, you throw it all aside. You spit on his name, and you run away from your responsibilities.”

“His money was a prison. It—”

“I don’t fucking care about your petty problems, you little shit!” Her face actually reddened more with each word. Other mourners turned toward them, and Wyn wanted to shrink away into nothing. He saw Charmout step forward, then think better of it. 

“This is my fucking career we’re talking about. I worked my ass off to get to where I am, and I’m about to lose all of it because you want to run off and live off your inheritance in ease!”

“I’m sure Gianna will like you,” Wyn suggested. “My father liked you. You’re very good at what you do.”

“Shut up!” Sasha began pacing back and forth, hands running through her perfect hair, nano-hair spray instantly correcting the mess she made. “There has to be a way to veto. We can overturn the sale. If you want to leave, you’ll sell it to us.”

“Um, the veto period has passed.”

“When was it?”

“During the funeral preparations today.”

She froze, rage burning in her eyes. “You planned all of this. To have the sale when we were busy so we couldn’t veto.”

“Yeah.”

“Tell me something, Wyn. What will you be doing with your father’s hard-earned money while our lives are being turned upside down?”

Wyn smiled now. Perhaps he could cool her anger if she understood he wasn’t squandering it. “I’ll be starting my own business venture. One that fits my desires, and who I want to be, a little better.”

“And what kind of business fits a pathetic worm like you?”

Wyn swallowed, ignoring the jab. “I’m leaving Terrask for the Raiyrium Confederation, and I’ll be starting the galaxy’s first bounty hunting service. A single company that can handle bounties, distribute them, and be a key piece to assisting the Raiyrium Peacekeepers. Right now, every bounty hunter is working solo unless they team up, but it’s their choice, right? So this will help bring organization to the chaos. It can allow for teams to more easily be formed and, most importantly, trusted. They’ll be able to take on more difficult bounties, making the galaxy a safer place.” Wyn took a moment to catch his breath after the excitement filled him. Sasha had guessed at his lack of sleep, but she couldn’t have known how he’d lain in bed late into the night thinking of all he’d do, planning every last detail. He could barely sleep, barely hold in his contentment. 

“It’ll be called Bounty Inc.”

Sasha stared at him in open bewilderment, mouth agape, eyes wide. All anger had fled her, replaced by confusion. She stayed like this for several silent moments, then said, “Are you fucking stupid?”

The question hung in the air while it slowly weaseled its way into Wyn’s brain. His smile faded, and he blinked. “I don’t think so.”

“Why bounty hunting?”

“Because bounty hunters are cool.”

 

 

If Sage had one belief at that moment, it was a simple one: anyone who thought bounty hunting was cool was also an idiot. It was a job for fools, people with too much money and a death wish, or the insane. Luckily for Sage, she was a part of that last crowd, though maybe one too many smacks to the head was righting her. For the first time in her life, she contemplated retirement.

She did this job because she was damn good at it, but fifty-eight was the sort of age at which one shouldn’t be jumping headlong into fistfights and firefights. Especially while wearing a stiff silicone mask with no proper ventilation. Her face was hot and moist from her breath, and she was nearly ready to abandon her plan and hope for the best. Maybe it’d be her death, and she’d be saved from a dull retirement.

She scratched at the mask uselessly and let out a little growl. Two other human guards looked at her, then looked away. They had spent much of the time ignoring her, which was fine to her. She hated making friends with the deceased-to-be.

She glanced around the barren office again. It had every look of a typical workplace: each desk embedded with interfaces, a little table to one side for some recreational holographic game, a break room with drink and snack machines.

Sage leaned against a pillar near the entrance, and besides the pair with her, five more security guards wandered the first floor, plasma rifles held at the ready. Roshran was expecting trouble. Which was fair; that was why she was here.

The door to the stairwell slammed open, and a squat blue form waddled into the room in a huff. He was no more than four feet tall, his entire torso encased in a spherical shell that made general movement look like extreme athletics. Torshk they were called, unfortunate creatures, though Sage supposed they could always withdraw into their shells and hide whenever there was danger. Maybe there was some use in that. She knew better than most how effective a protective shell could be.

Then again, what stopped someone from just firing down the neck hole?

“Bring the vehicle around.” He barked the orders from a toothless mouth that jutted out below two tiny eyes that always appeared to be squinting as if everything was just out of view. A guard ran off quickly to do his bidding. “We need to get off Chrysanax immediately. The Rose informed me the bounty already went live.”

The patrollers ran over to surround their boss. Sage watched this all happen, busying herself with idle fantasies of what it would be like to push the torshk on his back. Would his limbs flail uselessly, or did they have a way to get back up? She couldn’t imagine a species that would evolve to this point and still have such a fatal flaw. But she had seen a lot of strange creatures in her life. She needed to know. 

Roshran shuffled toward the entrance as the other guard near Sage stood at the ready. He was squawking out orders to the others when he paused at Sage’s pillar. Then he gawked at her.

“Is that a party store vrolak mask?” he asked, his incredulity sending his squeaking voice to an even higher pitch. Sage jerked free from her fantasies and stared down at the little blue torshk.

“Huh?” She hadn’t really expected to have to answer that question and had nothing prepared. This is what she got for planning things last minute.

“Take that off, you idiot!” Roshran yelled.

Sage didn’t move. The plan had veered wildly off course. She had to try and correct it. “No,” she said.

The torshk waved at two of his guards, who stepped over and tore the mask from her head. She could not correct the course, but thank the empyreans! Sweet relief! Cold, fresh air hit her face, and she took a deep breath with a smile on her face.

Her disguise dangled in the guard’s hand, the lifeless eyes off-center in the stiff orange silicone, the jaw jutting out and open as if in a constant roar. It was so poorly made, Sage wondered if it had been designed off a child’s drawing or if the model had been severely beaten right before the mold was taken.

“Who are you?” Roshran asked, his wrinkly face scrunching even more than usual. She felt like a book being read by an old person unwilling to admit they needed glasses.

“Zetta,” Sage answered immediately. She had that answer prepared.

This caught Roshran by surprise. Then he looked at the mask again. His tiny eyes widened, and his hands shook. Perhaps angry?

“Were you trying to trick me into thinking you’re actually a vrolak?” His voice ratcheted up again.

Definitely angry.

“I was told torshk have bad eyesight,” Sage admitted. Apparently it wasn’t as bad as she had been led to believe.

“Bad eyesight?” he squawked.

Sage clenched her eyes shut. If he didn’t stop talking like that, she was liable to tear her own ears off.

“My kind may not be known for our eyesight, but I know a mask when I see one! Not to mention you’d be the shortest vrolak in the galaxy.”

“Hey!” Sage pointed a finger at him, and a half dozen guns rose to point at her. She ignored them. “I’m taller than most of the children. I’ve seen one shorter than you.”

“Are your arms and hands painted orange?”

“Listen, you little ball, I’m going to need you to quit squeaking so much, or you’re going to give me a headache!”

“If you don’t answer my questions, I’ll make sure you get that headache,” Roshran growled. “Why are you here?”

“Oh, I work here. I’m a guard. Like these idiots.”

Roshran gestured to one of the guards at Sage’s side, and the man drove his fist into her midsection. She heard the bones snap from impact, then the man fell to the ground screaming in pain and cradling his limp wrist.

“Ouch, that looks painful,” Sage said.

The torshk gangster stared down at his guard in surprise, then shook himself out of it. “Enough of this. I don’t have time. Just kill her, and let’s go. Sovereign will be disappointed if we’re caught. You four take care of it.” He waved at four guards, ignoring the crippled one still writhing in pain, then turned to waddle away with the last of his retinue.

“Four?” Sage called after him. “Aren’t you underestimating a vrolak?”

A man replaced Limpwrist and shoved her against the pillar while his buddy to the other side held her steady. They pinned her arms and shoulders tight, and a third guard, a human woman, walked up to her. The fourth guard stood back, rifle at the ready.

Sage smirked as the woman pulled a pistol from her holster. “This is usually a second or third date. Don’t you want dinner first?”

She slammed the barrel of the gun to Sage’s forehead and hissed, “Shut up.”

Sage felt a heat rise in her. Oh yeah, there was more to bounty hunting than just the money. She felt the rush seize her, that insanity that took hold of her in these life-or-death situations. It was a special kind of thrill chasing, and it was one she excelled at. “Straight to foreplay then.”

The woman rolled her eyes, and then she tensed, about to pull the trigger.

“Wait!”

Shockingly, she waited. So Sage continued. “This can all go down one of two ways. I’ll let you all decide.”

“We’re not letting you go,” the guard said.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, doll. I only mean weapons or fists.” She glanced at the fourth guard, which turned out to be a tesing—akin to a bald, sparkly human—and then at the other guards in turn without moving her head. “Throw your weapons to the side, and we can fight this out with fists. None of you have to die.” She looked again at the woman. “But if you use weapons, then I’ll have to kill you.”

“I think I’ll risk it,” the woman said, then she pulled the trigger.

The pistol exploded in her hand, and Sage saw spots floating in front of her. Shit, she thought, should have closed my eyes. But she couldn’t let a little vision impairment hamper her.

She pulled her arms free from a pair of shocked and distracted guards, a cloud of sediment following her movements and filling the air. She turned to the first guard and coated her fist in a thick, hard shell of the carapace secreted from her skin. A splash of blood and a loud crack, and the man fell still. She circled around the pillar just as the tesing began firing.

The woman had dropped to the ground, cowering and yelling (between her and Limpwrist, it was quite the chorus), which left the second guard to pin her. He circled around the other side of the pillar, pistol drawn and raised. She grabbed the barrel with her left hand, a thick coating of carapace on her thumb to block the shot he fired. She still felt the heat of the shot, but her organic armor held.

She kicked his foot out, and when he dropped, she slammed his head into the pillar with her still-coated right hand. The body dropped, and if he wasn’t dead, he would likely be so soon enough. She waited as the tesing fired to either side of the pillar indiscriminately. And then she waited longer, wondering how many rounds he’d waste.

Her answer came soon enough with a pause, finally, in the shooting. She had to take this carefully, or they’d go through the whole thing again.

“Hey,” Sage called. “Offer still stands. Drop your gun, and we’ll fist fight this out. You get to live, unlike your two friends here.”

“You think I’d drop my rifle to fight a Thresha-infused?”

She slowly stuck her two hands out and wiggled them, the carapace coming off in a fine dust. “No Thresha talents. I promise.”

There was a long pause, then the tesing dropped the gun. “Fine,” he said.

Sage smirked and stepped out from behind the pillar. She half expected to be shot then and there, but this tesing was trusting. Or confident. He tossed his rifle to the side and stretched his arms and rolled his shoulders.

He strode up to her, a smile on his face, stretching his arms out. “I’ll warn you, however, that I am advanced in tesing martial arts. No common thug will be able to beat me.”

Sage scoffed as she settled into a defensive stance. Obviously, he wasn’t aware of who she was. Her skill in hand-to-hand combat was second to none, even without her talent. This common bodyguard was about to learn a—

The jab smacked her in the face, slipping around her guard and knocking all thoughts from her head. She jerked back, coughing as blood ran from her nose.

“Motherfucker!” She ducked as another jab nearly hit her again, then swung back. He jumped inside her reach, grabbed her arm, and spun with her attack. The world twisted as she flipped around, then slammed into the ground, pink mist spraying from her mouth as the wind blasted from her chest. Then he was on top of her, fists raining at her head.

She hid behind her arms, avoiding the worst of his punches while bucking her hips to no avail. He was a damn good top.

Fuck it. She dropped her guard, taking a fist to the head as she grabbed at his arms. The tesing tried to twist free, but she got a strong enough grip, pulled down, and brought her forehead up to slam into his face.

He yelled as she tried to blink away his blood. He leaned back, but she brought him in again, slamming her forehead into his mouth a second time. She heard the bone crack as she felt shards slice into her. Fuck, that hurt. When was the last time she’d done that without her carapace armor?

Dazed by her own attack, she lost her grip, and he scrambled off her. Sage rose to her feet, wiping blood from her face. They paired off again, defensive postures raised. His nose and mouth were a ruin, and she smiled. He spit a bloody tooth out and glared, his anger pulsing in her skull as was the way of his people. Well, that wasn’t going to distract her if that’s what he anticipated. This wasn’t her first go with a tesing.

They charged at the same time, fists flying. Unfortunately, most of Sage’s missed while all his hit. Fuck it. Fuck this. She was done getting her ass kicked!

He ducked her swing and came in with a fist to her ribs. They hit reinforced carapace instead, wrist snapping and knuckles cracking. He screamed, and she grabbed his shoulder, coated her fist in stone, and slammed it into his face. The tesing crumpled to the ground after one strike.

Her stony coating fell away as dust, sprinkling from hand and shirt. She spit a wad of blood at the tesing’s face. Honestly, this was his fault for believing she’d fight fair once she started losing. “How’s that for a common thug, asshole?”

Now for the torshk. She brushed herself off, sediment dust puffing out around her, and made for the exit as the woman coughed and glared at her. 

“You’re a fucking liar,” she growled. “You promised no Thresha talents.”

Sage walked back to the woman and crouched before her. “Yeah, but I never said I play fair. At least I left him alive.” She looked over the woman once more. She had pulled herself away from the main battle, leaning up against the wall and cradling her mangled hand in her lap. Sage sighed and set a hand on her shoulder. “It never would have worked out between us, sadly.”

“What?”

“I just got out of a long relationship, nearly eight months. But I just can’t seem to get her out of my thoughts. The sex. The violence. The more sex.” She sighed. “You almost had me. Gun to my head was quite the turn-on.” Sage mimed the gun to her head. “Unfortunately, you’re not my type.”

“What? You don’t like honorable people?”

“Honorable? You work for a glorified drug dealer.” Sage grabbed the mangled hand and lifted it, and the woman yelled out in pain. “You’re a pansy. This wouldn’t have stopped me from fighting. Abyssal hell! You could cut my fucking arm off, and I’d strangle you with the other one. Giving up after a few broken fingers is pretty pathetic.”

Sage dropped the hand and walked away but stopped near the sniffling Limpwrist. “You’re better than him at least.” Sage shook her head and grabbed the tesing’s discarded rifle. Then she stepped outside.

A long walkway led out to the street, where smoke rose from the ruins of several vehicles thanks to a bit of earlier sabotage. Which meant they were on foot. If they were getting off planet, that meant a port. The main port into the city would be straight ahead, an hour’s walk or more for a healthy person. For a ball with legs, she’d easily catch up.

She started along the path to the street when movement caught her eye. Two humans and a ball with legs ran across the grass to a large building in the distance (rather, waddled, in the case of one of them). She raised an eyebrow.

A private hangar.

She had almost lost her quarry. She set off after them, shouldering the rifle. She took aim and fired. One round after another. The guards fired back but in panic while dropping to the ground. Plasma bolts flew wide around Sage while every single one of hers hit its mark. Even with the inferior Koestock Dicklick, or whatever this model of rifle was called. Within moments, all that remained were corpses. And that ball with two legs waddling as fast as he could. She could smell the fear wafting from him. Or maybe that was the rifle melting in her hands due to being made from garbage.

“Hey!” Sage shouted. “Come back!”

“No!” Roshran gasped.

“Come on! I just want to talk.”

With a sigh, Sage jogged up to the shelled man before he had even made it halfway to the nearby hangar, then kicked him over. He fell to the side, and with one booted foot, Sage rolled him onto his back, then stepped away.

His limbs flailed as he rocked back and forth, but whenever he got close to righting himself, she’d use a boot to roll him onto his back again.

“You look ridiculous,” she said with a smile.

“This is your fault!”

Sage sighed. It was true. She was picking on a pathetic creature. When had she become a bully? She was getting too old, and the bounties were all the same. The money was supposed to give her freedom, but it felt only like a trap, holding her to the same life because she didn’t know how to change it.

“Right. Well, I should probably tell you that there’s a bounty on your head and I’m here to collect it.”

“A bounty hunter?” Roshran stilled his flailing, letting his arms hang limp to either side. “I can pay you more than the bounty if you let me go.”

“Wouldn’t be much of a bounty hunter if I let my bounties go.”

“It’s that, or you will die. Sovereign will not suffer this slight against him. Let me go, and he never has to know.”

“Sovereign? That your king?” Sage almost waited for an answer but instead kicked the torshk in the head to quiet him. “Doesn’t matter, actually. Haven’t you heard? Democracy is way better.”

Sage exhaled slowly over the weeping drug lord, something inside of her cracking just a bit. Was this all that remained for the rest of her life? She needed something stupid to do. Too bad Zetta wasn’t around anymore.