Act 2
A little less before...
To say that Banc hated his posting was an understatement.
Banc had grown up in Tark, the capital city, the son of a
great and famous Templar agent, it had been his birthright to become the
greatest law keeper the world had ever seen. He had of course joined the
academy and received high marks, top of his class in fact. Finishing school he
was on the road to a Templar posting himself one day.
The he joined the order.
They showed him no preferential treatment; in fact, Banc had
the belief they had decided to make things harder for him in the long run.
While he had received a peacemaker posting, it was in the badlands of District
3.
The heat never stopped here and the sand and rocks stretched
out as far as the eye could see. Settlement 952, his charge was a small
pathetic little Chorta mining village. There was almost nothing in it, a gun
shop, a bar, a mechanic shop and started living quarters. This posting was an
insult to his lineage and his family.
So if they were not going to take them serious then Banc
would not take the job seriously.
With that in mind over the last year Banc had deputized
anyone unemployed by the mine, his little group was up to six, they were hard
people all fired for a violation or two. Their flexible morality and anger
towards the working people of the settlement made them open to any suggestion
Banc made.
The people of the settlement were not fighters, and before
long he was running there small city like his own little piggy bank. Extortion
and blackmail was the name of the game. Banc would line his pockets on this
posting and then when they finally transferred him he'd leave this whole of a
town destitute.
Banc was a tall thin normal human who still dressed in nice
clothes of the Capital city. The heat was no excuse to dress like a peasant. He
had sharp blue eyes and short cropped blond hair. He had a Holt Contender strap
to his belt, a powerful one short pistol with a breach loud and a long barrel.
He could not remember a time when he needed more than one
shot.
Watching the sandy city from a rocking chair on the Templar
Agents office porch with his feet up trying not to move and adjust the sweat
into more uncomfortable spots. He saw his right hand walking towards him with a
heavy duffle, full of this month’s collections.
Bevle was a Large Arma, the brutish Armor covered man was a
warrior, strong with his fists but not his head. He was as loyal as a dog.
Bevle dropped the bag on the Porch, "It was a good take."
The guttural and hard accent of the Bad lander's assaulted
Banc's ears and made him frown every time, "Is that everyone?"
Bevle shook his head, "JaJa, She still hasn't paid this
month."
Banc smiled at this. He had a trade arrangement he made when
the men did not pay, they could barter with their woman, if they were quality
enough. Banc had sampled most of the wares in the city, the only treat he had
yet to partake of was the Fiery Black thumb JaJa.
JaJa had been somewhat of a thorn in Banc's side since he
had arrived. The short little red head was the daughter of some long dead
Mechanic who kept the town working, he had apparently died of Nickels three
years ago, leaving the sixteen year old daughter JaJa in charge of the shop.
Now she was nineteen and had been reluctant to pay into the Banc protection
rates.
Now the bitch was refusing. He was going to make the street
rat pay her fair share. Her time had come in this settlement.
****
JaJa had the hood up on the Interceptor.
Part of her had wanted to scrap the vehicle when her father
had keeled over three years ago on one of their routine joyrides, but she could
not bring herself to the act. Even after she found out he had been sick for
some time and kept the information from JaJa. That had angered her, how could
he have justified it? She had been blindsided her only living relatives
suddenly and violent death. At sixteen she had been left in charge of all the
mechanics duties in the settlement.
She had done her best, her father had taught her much but
she defiantly was not him, did not have his skill. The city had been generous
and patient, though none of that really mattered now.
Her care for her neighbors had turned to hatred, as they
continued to take the crap of the Templar Agents lead by Banc. She had enough
of him and his dictatorship. She had spoken out more than once, that as a
village they were stronger then the six men who ruled over them but no one
acted they just took it.
Jaja was done.
The Knock at the front door was loud and brought JaJa's eyes
up, "What?"
"Open up girl, Templar Agent orders!" The voice
was of the idiot henchmen Bevle.
"Fuck you!" JaJa yelled back, "You and Banc
can put your heads up each other’s asses and jump off a cliff!"
She was about to go back to her work with the crashing noise
alerted her to Bevle's presence, He had put his massive weight into the door
and it had given in snapping open. Bevle's eyes scanned the Garage looking for
JaJa. The Arma was massive eight feet tall over 300 lbs. and naturally armored.
"Mother fucker!" She yelled as he rushed her. She
wound up and hurled her ratchet with perfect accuracy, connecting with Bevle's
eye. He howled and took a header over a table of tools.
Sten, another lackey, charged in behind the massive Arma and
JaJa was already moving towards her hidden Double barreled shotgun. Sten was
faster and struck her across the face. The blow was hard but open handed, Sten
had misjudged his opponent. JaJa was more or less un-phased by the blow and
Came back with a right hook of surprising force from the small boxy woman.
Sten staggered falling onto the Interceptors engine block.
JaJa turned and kicked the hood stand out dropping the metal cover onto Sten
with a crash. JaJa Turn back towards the shotgun on the shelf and in two steps
she had a hold of Handle with a smile.
Then he hit her, Bevle's Massive fist caught her above the
temple. He had not underestimated and the force of the blow sent her Toppling
end over end into the bumper of a half built Injector JaJa had been working on.
The Shotgun skittered across the smooth cement floor under the vehicle and out
the back.
Before she could shake off the punch he was on her his big
hands wrapping around her through and with almost no effort he lifted her into
the air. Her lungs felt the air stop, and for a half second she panicked.
That's how long it took her hand to find the utility knife sitting on the hood
from when she was cutting tubing.
She raised it, extended the full blade with her thumb and
then drove it into the top of Bevle's right hand.
"God damnit!" He yelled and dropped her.
Still gasping for breath she scrambled up and over the
injector. Sten had pulled himself free and went after her tackling her over the
cad the two rolled off the back end and crashed the concrete with a hard thud.
Sten grabbed her hair to drag her up but she turned the shotgun in her hand and
put the double barrel to his nose.
Sten froze as did Bevle who had freed the knife from his
hand, "Let go."
Sten let go of her hair and back away a couple of steps
slowly raising his hands.
"Come on girl," Banc had moved in and been
watching the chaos on the outside, she turned the gun on him, "You are not
going to do it."
He stood there with a malicious grin, hands in his pockets
as if she didn't have any power, as if she didn't have a gun on him. The
smugness made her want to pull the triggers and watch his head disintegrate.
"Don't get me wrong," He continued slowly stepping
towards her, "You want to, and you would if it was just me, but you have
no exit strategy here, no way out. You pull that trigger and you are dead no
way around it."
Her finger was being called by the trigger as the logical
wrestled with her rage, "I mean, either way we are going to do some
terrible things to you, just despicable things but you know that as bad as it
is going to be you can survive it. Whereas you pull that trigger, there is no
way you walk out of here."
His chest now touched the barrel ends as he look down on
her, "So you are not going to pull the trigger, Instead you are going to
take your medicine aren't you?"
He gentle touched the barrel and pulled the shotgun from her
hand, "That's a good girl."
****
Banc fulfilled his promise. What came next was pain the
likes she had never felt. They passed her around like a bottle of beer at a
party, minutes, hours, days? She had no way of telling how much time passed,
but she knew that two things inside her had died, she felt it - any part of her
that cared for others, and her fear.
Nothing would scar her after this. Nothing would scare her
after this.
When they finished Banc pulled his pants up and eyed the
Interceptor, "I think I'm going to keep this bad boy."
Bevle nodded, "Suits you, boss. What do we do with
her?"
He point at the naked, bruised and bloodied JaJa on the cold
floor of the garage that was once a sacred place for her, now forever defiled.
Sten, the last to get a turn had just stood and was zipping up.
Banc considered, "Queen D's gang is passing through
today, right?"
Banc had sold women and some Arma's into the migratory
Bandit gang’s service, they usually gave a fair price and Banc wanted her out
of his town. Not because he found her to be a threat, but because now he found
her to be disgusting in the way someone would be disgusted by used tissue
paper.
Bevle nodded and Banc continued rubbing the hood of the
Devil, "Round the boys up, get the Scarabs and I'll
take this little baby for a test drive."
"Put her in a dress, we'll sell her as entertainment
for Queen D's boys." Banc finished then opened his new interceptor's door
and got in.
TO BE CONCLUDED...VIOLENTLY.
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