Mau

"Have a nice day." Scooter mumbles as he lays down the 7 of hearts. The slap of card against wooden table echoes throughout the tiny bunker, the only noise in an otherwise silent game. This wasn't the most comfortable place to play a game of cards, but it was what they had available to them.

"Merci" comes a soft female voice to Scooter's right. The 3 of hearts is laid down on top of the 7, the pampered green hand retracting almost as quickly as it had appeared. Snipe blinks her tired eyes as she adjusts her beret. The 'Active' LED of her comm washes the dank room in a soft blue. The player to her right raises an eyebrow and lays down a 3 of clubs.

"Ahem... Rye." The other players look at him expectantly. He gazes around the table somewhat nervously, though trying his level best to maintain a poker face.

'He's trying, Snipe, give him a shot.'

'My thoughts exactly.'

The distinct sound of a pistol being cocked breaks the nervous elf's facade entirely, sweat pouring down his face and his legs wobbling furiously. Scooter plants his face in his massive hand. 'Not what I meant, Snipe.' He hands a card to the elf.

The tired orc lets out a slow stream of air through her nose as she contemplates her current hand of cards. After a second or two, she plays a 5 of clubs. "Lettuce."

Scooter rolls his eyes and continues the game with an ace. "You're welcome, and bacon."

'If you two are just going to scare the poor guy, why did you even bring him here?'

'Do not ask me, Mother. It was Scooter's idea.'

To Scooter's left, a peculiar digital tablet sat attached to a hovering terminal, complete with two long robot arms. On the screen was a simple, comically adorable pixelated face. One of the arms places a Jack of clubs, the tablet turning to the left and giving the poor elf a seductive wink, whispering "Tomato" in a synthesized high pitch voice. The elf whimpers in response, not at all sure what that was supposed to mean.

"Y-you're not g-g-gonna kill me, r-right?" The elf asks, his hands shaking too much to effectively hold his cards. Scooter lowers his sunglasses to fix a disappointed glare at him, as Mother silently places a card in front of him. "Ah! Sorry! So sorry!" Scooter tsks and shakes his head, Mother handing the elf yet another card. He gulps hard, biting back the rest of his inquiries. Instead, he plays a Jack of diamonds. "Um... Sourdough?"

Scooter pinches the bridge of his nose, using his free hand to make a circular motion, as if indicating for the elf to keep going.

"Uh! Um... Have a good day?"

'God damn it, just do it.'

'Avec plaisir'

'Snipe...'

The shot happens too fast for the nameless elf to react, even with fear. A silenced bullet pierces through his skull. Scooter throws his cards onto the table, clearly sick of this whole thing.

"I'm sick of this whole thing!" He exclaims, breaking the silence. "Horizon has some damn nerve making us sit around like this!"

"Scooter, get yourself together!" The floating tablet hovers above the table, dropping it's cards into the pile. "This is important!"

"But why?!" He slams a fist into the table, sending splinters in multiple directions. He collects his breath for a moment before turning to Snipe. "Why is this whole situation such a mystery? Why can't you tell us a damn thing?"

Snipe sinks further into her chair, pulling her beret down to put more shade on her face.

"No, you're not playing the victim here! Why are we in this bunker?!"

"Why did you bring the elf?" Mother asks, legitimately curious. "I mean, you were planning on killing him, weren't you? And now we're stuck in this bunker with a dead elf."

"Don't complain, you ain't got a nose or nothin', so what's it matter to you?" Scooter walks around the table and kicks the dead body. "Besides, we gotta eat once the food runs out."

"Don't even joke about that! Ugh I'm going to be sick!" The robotic arms connected to the tablet press against what would be the screen's forehead.

"Don't be so dramatic." The imposing troll turns back toward Snipe, who has her face buried in a magazine. "And don't think I forgot about my question! Stop reading your damn fashion mags and talk to me." He reaches over and snags the magazine, looking at the orc on the cover for a moment before tossing it away behind him. Snipe has sunk further, her face almost entirely obscured by the high collar of her pea coat.

'I wish I could, mon ami...'

Scooter sighs regretfully, knowing he probably pushed her too far. It's easy to forget sometimes that she has feelings, considering she was also responsible for the corpse bleeding on her boots.

"Look, if it's that bastard Jason again, I will not hesitate to storm their HQ and put a rear tire through his skull."

Almost as if to answer his question, Snipe's comm begins to ring. She lets out a low groan, clutching at her beret as if it could somehow help her out of the situation. "Could I please have some privacy?" She asks somberly.

Scooter almost throws back a snarky response, but Mother quickly pinches his ear and drags him up the ladder, out into the open field above them.

Snipe waits until the hatch is closed and sealed before she pinches her ear lobe, answering the call.

"Snipe, baby! How's it been? Lots of killing and crime and whatnot?"

"I do not wish to be cordial with you, Jason. We have unfinished business." Snipe sits up in her chair, rubbing her eyes to alleviate the itching. "For instance, why have I not been paid?"

"Oh, all business as always. It's like you don't want to talk to me! What's eating you, hon?"

"Don't call me... Whatever, no I don't like talking to you." She stands and retrieves the magazine that Scooter had discarded. "I have not been paid. It has been over a year, and the assassination yielded the exact results you had hoped for." She opens up to the page she had been on before. "The Technomancer insurgence has been nearly stamped out, their leader made martyr and forgotten, and your free labor is still free. You owe me for that, and for my reputation."

"Babe, we talked about this! You signed a contract, I did my part, you did part of your part. Get me, partner?"

"We are not partners." Snipe continues to flip through the pages of her magazine, admiring the models highlighted on each page. 'And who said orcs can't be beautiful?' "And by what do you mean that I have done part of my part? I did what you asked of me."

"Not according to this."

A document comes into view on her external optical display. All at once, her world comes crashing down around her. "How... Did you get this?" Her voice barely above a whisper.

"Well, that got your attention. You want to talk business, let's talk business." The document shown to the orc switches to the correct one, showing the contract that she had signed. "See, this contract doesn't mean shit. Now if you had read over the damn thing with your mommy, you might have noticed that I'm not actually contractually obligated to pay you, not until I'm done with you, and I'm not done with you."

"You leave Mother out of this, I swear to God!"

"Or else what, you gonna shoot me? Cool, try it. I know how you work, sitting in some cushy hole miles away from your target, shooting through windows and anybody or anything in between. Have fun finding a place to get me in my office. And even if you do kill me, I have a neural rig wired to the matrix with every teeny tiny detail about you. Not hard, seeing as I know who you are now."

"Fine, but she has nothing to do with this!"

"Oh, but doesn't she? I know who she is too, you know. Or at least, what she is. Tech is my business! How can you really say she isn't in some way involved?"

Snipe puts down her magazine, trying her best to keep her trembling in check. "This is insane, Jason. How can I even agree to help you when I don't know what I'm helping you with?"

"That's for me to know, and for you to know later, when I need you. Honestly, who wouldn't want to have one of the most notorious assassins in the West in their pocket?" Silence... "So? Deal or no deal?" More silence...

"You know... I've heard great things of Bordeaux, especially the whine. Would you recommend it?"

"No! You wouldn't!"

"Ah, that got you, didn't it? Listen, do what I say, when I say, and dear old dad gets to live peacefully in his vineyard. Deal?"

Snipe clenches her fists as hard as she can, biting her lip as if to stop herself from saying anything more. But... What choice did she have?

"When will I hear from you again?"

"Soon. Oh, and... The blue dress looks nice on you. Blue has always been your color."

The comm line cuts out, and Snipe tears the device from her ear and throws it as far away from herself as she can. She sits back in her chair, face in her hands and sobs.

'I'll never wear blue again...'