O'SHEA
11 May 3068The Busted Gyro, Solaris City
Solaris VII, Lyran Alliance
By reading his face, no one would have been any the wiser that Kenji was holding a full house. When his turn came, he gave the appearance of making a weighty decision and then said “raise ya, 250 Cs” as he threw in his chips.
“Frak me, that SOB has got something good and I am out” said Abe Ford, the Monkey’s chief technician who was sitting next to him. I need to stop playing with that guy, thought Kenji.
Leonard “Chopper” Cohen, sitting across from Kenji, clearly wasn’t ready to fold so easily. He gave Kenji a long hard stare which Kenji returned with an easily veiled expression. Chopper was a small-potatoes player here on Solaris VII. He had bounced around a few stables, and word on the street was that he was currently unemployed. That made him hungry, and hungry people sometimes took stupid risks. “Alright, I call you.” He said, laying down his cards. Pair of kings.
“Sorry Chopper, it just ain’t your night,” Kenji said with a wolfish grin as he lay down his cards to the satisfying sound of groans from all around the table. He leaned back in his chair to savor the moment as the cards were re-shuffled for the next game. He couldn’t help but notice the news flash spilling across on the displays overhead. A plump, mustachioed face appeared on the display with the large headline “Too Fat to Fight?” before switching to an attractive female broadcaster.
“Fresh concerns are being raised about the physical condition of veteran gladiator, Vincenzo “Meatball” Garibaldi, a crowd favorite here on Solaris VII, known as much for his baritone voice as his skills in the arena. According to our source, a recent physical has Garibaldi at a whopping 260 lbs. and his doctors have advised him to forego the arena until he can get his weight under control. Garibaldi has denied…”
Kenji shook his head at the utter ridiculousness of it all. He had only been away from the game world for a few months, but after what the Monkeys had been through, it just seemed like a carnival here on Solaris VII. Sure would like to see that fat-ass Garibaldi take some concentrated fire from a Blakist c3I Level II, he thought. Then he thought about Sweet, and his smile disappeared.
“Hey Blackjack, isn’t that your CO over there,” said Cohen. Kenji turned to the entrance where bright flashes from a variety of holo-cameras were capturing Taharqa Bane. He waved nonchalantly with a large grin on his face as he brushed past. The Busted Gyro was a real mechwarrior’s dive, the kind of place where you could bury youself in some cheap booze and get away from the glitz of the Solaris City scene, but it seemed that the paparazzi even infiltrated here. He considered getting up and greeting his boss, but then thought better of it. He was having too much luck with the cards. Then just as he was looking at his new hand (pair of tens, not bad), sharp voices forced him to turn around again.
A big angry-looking Russian mook was up in Taharqa’s face, with a couple of his buddies standing behind him. Kenji frowned. He happened to know this mook. His name was Leon Petrovsky, the leader of a small Capellan-affiliated stable on Solaris VII called the Krazy Kossaks. He was a thug for sure, but this situation didn’t seem right. He and Taharqa had actually been on good terms, friends even, when they were both operating stables on the Game World.
“Slinking back here with your tail between your legs, huh Bane?” Petrovsky bellowed. “I knew you didn’t have what it takes.”
Kenji could see rage boil across Taharqa’s face for a second, then he leaned back and laughed a deep booming laugh that shook the glass around the bar. “I see you are just as loud and stupid as I remember, you washed up drunk,” He said, without the slightest bit of malice. Without thinking about it too much, Kenji got out of his seat and began to meander in their direction. Something was about to go down. Then he saw one of Petrovsky’s underlings, a guy by the name of Ivan “Izzy” Sramek, trying to surreptiously move out of Taharqa’s peripheral vision, presumably to better get the drop on him.
Kenji was a man who trusted his instinct, and he often acted before he really thought about it. This was one of those occasions. He picked up the nearest beer bottle and brought it down on Izzy’s head as hard as he could. Izzy dropped like a rock. Everything in the bar stopped, and both Taharqa and Petrovsky looked at him with utter shock on their faces.
Then everything was a tumult. Blows were flying, people were crashing into and onto tables. Chairs were sailing through the air. Somebody tried to tackle him, but Kenji pushed him off and jumped back. He dodged a blow meant for his head and sucker punched his assailant in the stomach, then kneed him in the face. He had no idea who it was. He glanced around the room and saw Abe Ford carefully tucked under a chair, Taharqa a blur of action in the middle of several assailants. He was about to go assist Taharqa when he remembered the poker game. My chips!
He was just collecting his chips, when a hand on his shoulder whirled him around. He made a fist and then stopped as he saw that it was Taharqa, a gash on his forehead, but a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eyes.
“Blackjack, you sure do get yourself into trouble sometimes,” Taharqa laughed. “Now, lets get the hell out of here.”
Taharqa grabbed Kenji by the arm and half-dragged him to the door and into the seat of a waiting taxi. Once they were safely inside, he turned to Kenji. “I couldn’t have scripted that move of yours any better.” He laughed again.
Scripted? Kenji was used to Taharqa’s devil-may-care attitude, but something just seemed a little off. Then the taxi slowed to a stop and the door opened again. Kenji’s mouth dropped open as Leon Petrovsky stepped in. Petrovsky had a smile almost as large as Taharqa’s.
“If Sramek ends up in the hospital, thats coming out of the proceeds, damn it.” Petrovsky said, but his smile never disappeared. “Next time, you might want to let your crew in on the game.”
Kenji looked back and forth from Taharqa to Petrovsky. “What the hell is going on here?”
Taharqa laughed. “Just needed to drum up a little more interest for our upcoming match. There is already some interest in seeing the Monkeys return to the arena, but the publicity will be even better for a one-time only grudge match between the Flaming Devil Monkeys and the Krazy Kossaks.”
Suddenly it all became clear to Kenji. “You mean this was all a publicity stunt?” He hoped he hadn’t hit Sramek too hard.
“You are quick on the uptake there, Blackjack,” said Petrovsky. Then he turned to Taharqa with a more serious look. “I heard you had a tough time of it. Lost someone out there.”
“Yes,” Taharqa’s smile was gone, “But we will get her back.”
“Word on the street is that you are playing with some new toys.” Taharqa changed the subject.
“Plasma rifles. Nasty buggers. They got hitting power and they will bake you at the same time. We are testing them out for the Confederation.”
Taharqa nodded. “So how about we make this match a little more interesting? We win, you give us some of those plasma rifles. You win, you can take half of our proceeds.”
It was a bold bet that Kenji would have appreciated, had he been listening. But he was too busy trying to figure the odds on the upcoming match, and how much he could make off of it.