Chapter 2
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As it turns out, there was very little information you didn’t already know. But with your superior intellect, was that really so surprising?
Cordax had barely mumbled out the most basic of information before you interrupted him and proceeded to school him on everything you were willing to disclose - but you filled his head with so many obvious details it’s a wonder it didn’t rupture then and there. Maybe if you decided to lecture him on philosophy, you could launch his dumb metallic expression halfway across the continent.
Yet hindsight is exceptionally clear, and maybe it would be wiser for you to not jeer at your acquaintance’s lack of knowledge when you didn’t possess the foresight to see the blatantly obvious mercenary who was hiding in the darkest corner of the ceiling, nor the proper intelligence to determine he was about to kick you through the window, nor the imagination to determine Cordax would do something so pointless as stab the man in the shoulder with a fork.
But, the kid’s got audacity, and that has to count for something. Maybe a free meal at Fifty’s.
Writhing about, the vigilante with his boot on your neck managed to grab the wriggling midget who decided to introduce stainless steel prongs into his bloodstream, and clutching him by the ankle with enough pressure to pop the joint of an organic being, decided to do what all exaggerated egotists love to do when they have even the slightest upper hand: Talk your darn ear off.
“It doesn’t matter if I kill him.” He smoothly stung his words into your mind, letting the nonchalant attitude throw you for a bit of a loop. “You wouldn’t mind much either. I want the info you haven’t told him.”
You sigh. “The bus will arrive at the station in an hour and a half. From there the two of us will arrive at the train depot and rendezvous with the other unlucky saps who were selected to go in this suicidal field trip-”
He slams his foot down into your steel neck, threatening to warp it. “Five seconds.”
Your featureless round head locks eyes with his smooth, featureless helmet, seething with rage that this unbelievably tacky brawler is so presumptuous as to dirty your neck with his footwear. “Ghid is there.”
The last statement seems to come as an absolute surprise to the helmeted attacker, and he recoils in disbelief. Cordax takes advantage of the situation to twist his foot free, and swing on the stranger’s arm to try and land back on his shoulders again. With him turning to prevent this, it is all the opportunity you need to swipe his knee from the back and force it to bend, before lunging your massive hand up past his leg and clutch his shiny helmet. With the newfound leverage, you flip him over your body and slam him into the ground, before rising just enough to sling him back into the diner.
You know perfectly well he’s carrying an EMP, tranquilizer darts, throwing knives, a badly mishandled cassette player, and four copies of Vektroid’s Floral Shoppe written onto cassettes which were actually considerably cheaper to come across. His rocket pack was just for show. But you also knew he needed to get the drop on you to have any sort of advantage, and now that he was probably praying he didn’t have a fractured rib, it would be pointless for him to retaliate.
Cordax, however, cowered behind your legs and peeked out from around your knee at the figure now cradling his side and collapsing onto the floor with a moan. “Who- Who IS he?!”
“Winger.” You respond, cracking your knuckles as you do so. “You now know it’s Ghid who was responsible, so I can’t exactly let you go.”
“So?” Winger retorts, trying and failing to rise and challenge your approach. “Does that mean you’re gonna kill me, you faceless brute?”
“Better.” You imply a smile. “You’re coming along for the ride.”
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