Usually, the number-one rule of bounty hunting is keeping your distance. Don’t get attached to any situation, any target, any accomplice— you’re not here to take sides. No playing judge or jury. You’re only the executioner. Caelius used to be one of those “strictly business” mercenaries, only doing what was necessary to get paid. Getting to know names or faces was never important; but as she stood behind a young woman with bronze skin and eyes that could see right through fragile men, she asked for another merc’s name for the first time.

What began as a series of returned favors turned into a long-term hunting partnership. Kiana got Caelius out of a sour deal, Caelius bought her a drink. Caelius repaired Kiana’s bionic arm, Kiana let her crash at her apartment until she found a place of her own. Kiana was hoping she’d give up her search, and Caelius was hoping that a “tough market” was an excuse enough to stay. Attachment’s not part of the gambit of bounty hunting, but it’s part of a bigger game whether we like it or not: life. Once they’d both learned to let their guard down once in a while, good friends were easier to come by than they once thought.

Kiana carries a tray of chips from the kitchen to the living room. Caelius sits beside two other mercs, feverishly arguing.

“Bionics are built with the individual in mind, right?” Ivan asks. “So they replace what the person lacks.”

“No, they enhance what’s already there,” Victor explains. “Amputees with high dexterity will relearn to walk faster on bionic legs than those with low dexterity. Even if they received the same operation and the same legs.”

“Don’t give me that ‘it’s all in the brain’ bullshit.”

“It is! Victor, Caelius is literally a human conscience in an artificial body. She wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t ‘all in the brain’.”

Kiana snaps her hair tie against Victor’s arm. “Are you boys gonna keep grilling each other or do I have to send you out onto the balcony to settle your score?”

Caelius swirls the half-full glass in her hand. “Ten bucks says I can down this in two seconds,” she says.

“Not like it’s hard for you,” Kiana says. “You have a bionic body. You can’t get drunk.”

“I could if I wanted to. At this point, I’ve basically picked myself apart and programmed simulations to mimic everything I can’t feel anymore. Inebriation, a hangover, a broken leg, other... bodily phenomena.”

“Prodigy ex-engineering student who knows how to reprogram her own body, and yet, you’re.... a mercenary.”

“If I had it my way, I’d be building arms and teaching kids how to write again. But the ACA has other plans for me. If they ever manage to catch me, that is.” She scoffs. “American Cybernetics Association... more like American Co—“

“Okay, okay. That’s enough,” Kiana says, settling on the couch beside her roommate. Victor throws his deck of lotería cards onto the table, letting the group decide whether or not they want to fuel his gambling addiction later in the night. Even though she’s programmed to perfection, Caelius tends to lose games of chance or strategy; her body is built for combat, not science. It makes sense why the ACA is keen on getting their military-grade pet project back.

The device in Ivan’s pocket buzzes. The screen illuminates with a photo and a price above it. “Shit,” he mutters. “Roland Blanchet. Ex-ACA agent who’s been selling intelligence for years— bionics registration, home addresses, private civilian information. He’s finally on our radar.”

Kiana sits up. “What’s the bounty on his head?”

“$5000.”

“Five grand? Why so much?”

Caelius sets her empty glass delicately on the coffee table. “He blackmails bounty hunters into letting him go. Threatens to narc on them to the ACA-- or worse, the cops. I almost got him three months ago. I thought I could get away with it, but when he said my full name-- my real name-- I broke. I let him go.”

“Cae, if this is an identity-sensitive mission, you don’t have to take it,” Kiana says softly. “Out of the four of us, you’re the one who should play it safe the most.”

“I know. But once he knows there’s a target on his forehead, he’ll be expecting a bunch of bounty hunters too busy fighting amongst themselves for the money to go after him. He’s not expecting teamwork.” She runs her palm over the worn exterior of her helmet. “Five grand is a hell of a lot for a scrawny white guy with a god complex.”

“Five grand is $1250 for each of us. That’s a hard offer to turn down. You think whoever placed the bounty over his head is gonna try and bargain with the ACA?”

“No-- I think the ACA put the bounty there in the first place. Which leads me to ask: what information does he have that the ACA is so afraid of him telling?” She pulls a knife from her pocket and admires its blade. Her reflection is more than clear when she holds it up to the light.

“I’ll crash the bounty database,” Kiana says. “The site will be down for only a few minutes, but it’s enough to give us a head start.”

She sheathes the knife as she peers over Ivan’s shoulder at the listing. “Don’t bother. The location in the description isn’t where he’ll be.”

Kiana tosses Caelius’s trademark silver pistol to her, and keeps the smaller black one for herself. Ivan swipes his daggers against the kitchen counter and smiles at the sound. Victor grabs his gun from beneath the couch. Looks like playing lotería isn’t the only way they’ll be testing their luck tonight.