Marco's Betrayal
Marco had recently gotten his hands on drugs. It started when some guy he met at a gambling den recommended them. At first, he thought it'd just be a one- or two-time thing. But even while chewing gum and trying to distract himself, his body was already craving more.
The drugs were expensive. With recent jobs falling through, his money had run dry. So he decided to skim off Leah's payment. But Leah couldn't pay up. In that brief moment, Marco thought, 'Everyone else would say it's fine if they don't get paid.' But Marco was desperate. That's when his thoughts crossed the line.
'She's someone I'll never see again. No one will know.' He rationalized it to himself... and now things had come to this.
His hollow eyes met a chilling blue gaze. Marco was a mercenary too—he knew that look well enough. But he ignored it. He needed money. He had a job lined up, but who knew when the payout would come, or if it would even go through. And to score more drugs, he needed cash now.
"Leah."
"Don't call me so casually, Marco. Aren't you older than me?"
Marco's gut boiled with rage. Probably withdrawal symptoms. But that wasn't the point. All he could see was that delivering this insolent girl to a slave trader would soon drown him in ecstasy. The slums of this planet were mafia territory, and slave traders supplying them were everywhere.
He held back as long as he could. "Tch, staring at me like that. Huh?!"
Without another word, Marco grabbed Leah and started dragging her off. He wanted to wrap this up quick. This frail girl wouldn't put up much fight—or so he judged. Dead wrong, of course. Her strength might be weak, but inside lurked a war-hardened demon—
Thwack!
Leah kicked hard between Marco's legs from behind. A sharp impact echoed from his groin.
"Gaaah!"
Marco crumpled instantly. The pain no man could endure hit him like a truck. In that split second, Leah slipped free.
"Ngh! Stop right there!"
Marco gave chase, but the agony slowed him down. Leah kept running.
"Hah, hah... If only this body was normal."
Her prosthetic, still recovering from overload, felt like a hindrance. Her right hand, clenched tight earlier, tingled. She hadn't gone far before her breathing ragged and her stamina flagged.
"Hoo... Won't get far in this shell."
Unable to fully escape the alley, she dove into a nearby bar.
Creak! The door flew open roughly, hinges squealing as her leather jacket snagged and tore slightly.
She needed to hide. That scavenger was a mercenary too. He'd shaken off the hit and would catch up soon.
'Damn scavengers.'
'Trash who'd sell their own parents for cash.'
Catching her breath, she scanned the room. A bar-style joint, sparse on customers since it was still daytime. She addressed the pudgy, balding bartender.
"Can you hide me for a bit?"
Her words tumbled out, but he got the gist. "Uh... hide here?"
For a barman, he was amateurish. She didn't trust him, but had no choice. As she ducked behind the bar, gulping air, a voice rang out from the door.
"Leah! You in here?"
Marco. He scanned the room, then beelined for the bartender. "Hey, seen a gray-haired girl? About this tall."
The pudgy guy feigned ignorance poorly. "N-nope."
Sensing something off, Marco switched tactics. "She's my family—we fought, and she ran off. Always causing trouble, y'know?" He pulled out some bills. "Whaddya say? Tell me, and I'll make it worth your while."
The bartender's eyes darted, then his trembling finger pointed her way.
"Shit."
"Ah, there you are, Leah."
"Come closer and I'll kill you."
Her warning fell on deaf ears. "My bad earlier. You're no ordinary chick. So I figure dragging you back nice won't cut it—"
Mid-sentence, he lunged with a fist. She saw it clearly—the arc, aimed straight at her solar plexus. But her body wouldn't react—
Thud!
"Guhk!"
She collapsed. 'If not for this prosthetic...'
Damn thing felt too real—skin, senses, even vital points. Marco slung her coughing form over his shoulder.
"Whew, quiet now."
The bartender just trembled, watching. "Hey, you got paid, right? Shh." Marco pressed a finger to his lips.
The bartender nodded mutely.
"You dog... I'll get you..."
With those final words, she blacked out.
--------------------------------------------------
Errant Mercenary Group. The four without Marco had just returned from a job. An auction for mining rights in the new frontier zone B-1 was coming up soon. The client was Calypso Corp., one of the two mega-corps competing—Bahara Corp. and Calypso. All they needed was proof of Bahara's mafia ties.
Not the full expose, just traces. "That isolated island left of Sakar City. Kairen. Something's there, right?"
"Yep. Uncover mafia-Bahara collusion, 100 million bels. Solid evidence? 5,000 per piece."
"Whoa, gotta love big corps. They got deep pockets."
Roena shrugged with a grin. Good thing they'd gotten an advance—breathing room at last.
"Only teams our level snag gigs like this."
Seriana was right; they were top dogs around here.
"Op starts in three days. Auction's in a month, so wrap in two weeks max."
"Got it. Heading back to check gear first."
Luca took Roena's cue, and they filed out. Walking awhile, Roena suddenly wondered aloud. "He got her home safe, right?"
"Marco-hyung wouldn't screw it up."
"Something feels off... Maybe he ditched for gambling again."
"Guy's broke. Borrowed from me last time."
"Should be done by now. Call him—grab dinner together."
Luca pulled out his terminal and dialed Marco.
"...Why's the ringtone like that?"
"Marco-hyung's custom tone. Tell him yourself."
Luca shot Seriana an exasperated glare. The weird tune droned on forever.
"Uh... no answer."
"Fine, just us then."
They kept walking toward a hidden gem in the alleys, thanks to Ian's odd tastes. Pork grilled crispy like fried—divine.
Passing buildings into the alleys, something caught Seriana's eye. A scrap of leather caught on the door hinge. Common enough, but her cybernetic eye picked up the anomaly.
"Hold up, this..."
She stopped, lifting the leather. Fine brown hide. Familiar.
"Isn't this your jacket, Luca?"
"Huh? Why here...?"
He inspected it—yep, the one he'd lent Leah.
"Mine. Gave it to Leah. Why's it here?"
"..."
"Marco."
The desolate alley fell silent, save for bar chatter inside. The sudden hush mirrored their thoughts. Finally, Roena's face hardened.
"Luca, track Marco's bike. Ian, with me."
Luca yanked a bulky terminal from his bag and got to work without a word. Roena and Ian shoved the door open.
A few drunk patrons bellowed inside. Ignoring them, they zeroed in on the bartender—pale and sweaty.
"Hey. Brown-haired guy with a gray-haired woman? This tall."
Ian gestured curtly. The bartender broke into cold sweat.
"N-never seen 'em."
His eyes flickered, hands fidgeted. Ian silently flashed his hip holster. Low voice: "Better talk."
The pressure made the bartender shrink back, but Roena snatched his arm. Her left was prosthetic— a squeeze drew a yelp.
"Th-that guy... dragged off the woman. Leah, he called her."
"...Ha! That bastard Marco betrayed us?"
Roena's face twisted in disbelief and fury. They stormed out. Luca was still tapping away.
"Found the bike. But..."
"But?"
"Looks like he's gambling. Deep in Sakil Street."
Seriana sighed, shaking her head. "Marco, pathetic..."
Roena's expression was dead serious—no playful nuna vibe.
"Move out. Marco betrayed us."
"Yes, Captain."
Sakil Street. The worst slum in Sakar City. Toward it strode the Errant Mercenary Group.