Planet - New Melbourne - Sea Siren Bar

[Hollywood Heidi]

Sea Siren Bar

Located on the planet New Melbourne near one of the many docks.

[Hollywood Heidi]

***Wendy enters from Planet - New Melbourne - Atlantica Hotel***


WENDY

Wendy arrived early as usual. She walked into the bar, quickly taking in everyone and everything there. Out of ingrained habit, she chose a table toward the back and sat down facing the door with her back to the wall. No opportunity for anyone to sneak up behind her and she had a vantage point of everyone coming and going from the bar.

She crossed her legs and adjusted the hem of her knee length dress. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw one of the men who'd been watching her turn her way and start to stand. She shook her head then looked pointedly at the other chair at her table. He slumped back in his stool and swiveled back toward the bar, getting the message that she was meeting someone.

[Frank Pickett]

***Frank Pickett enters***

Frank knew how to be subtle. He was capable of it, and could usually judge when it was needed. A great deal of the time, however, he forgot it existed. He barged powerfully through the twin doors of the bar, his long brown duster flowing around him like liquid leather. He pulled off his hat as he made a beeline directly toward a table near the back, the floorboards creaking under his heavy boots. At such a great height, he would've been noticeable even without the swagger in his walk. He knew that Alliance were present on the planet, but this was a shitty little bar in a shitty little dock. It was hardly a Londinium Embassy.

His contact was already sitting down, a tanned man with prickly stubble and a loose belly. "You Pickett?" he asked as Frank sat down.
"No. I'm General Richard Wilkins, back from retirement and ready for illegal activity. Who d'you think I am?"

[Hollywood Heidi]

WENDY

This new assignment had Wendy's rapt attention though she was careful to hide her interest behind the usual air of indifference. She glanced at the images of the male and female again on the glowing screen of the electronic data tablet, one labeled Tam, Simon and the other Tam, River. She'd heard of the Tams several times in the past. River had been like Wendy. Smart, excelled at most everything, absorbed things like a sponge, and unfortunately, guinea pig to the Alliance in their constant endeavor to force people beyond their capabilities, no matter how extraordinary they may already be, all in an attempt to create their own super force. Nothing was ever good enough for these Purplebellies.

Her Independent Faction contacts had believed that the brother, Simon Tam, had the advanced medical knowledge to possibly recreate Wendy's medicine and maybe even the slight chance of curing her completely. They'd also been unsuccessful in tracking down the Tams. Now with this data tablet of information collected by the Alliance on the Tams combined with the information the Independents had collected, she felt hope that there was a possibility of finding the Tams and finally being free of the control of the Alliance.

As patrons came and went, Wendy observed them from the corner of her eye, always on the look-out for potential threats. Standard practice ingrained into any person trained for the spy business. She felt an odd sensation as this next patron entered the bar, almost as if she felt a pull to him. A glance from the corner of her eye and she felt a sense of familiarity. The angles of his face. The way he carried himself. It was so familiar, like something out of a faded memory. Wendy strained to hear the conversation of the two men but was only able to discern one word. Pickett. Her breath caught in her throat and she involuntarily looked over. It was him. So many emotions came crashing through her as her heart raced. Joy. Loathing. Hatred toward him for the pain he'd caused her and toward herself for still feeling something for him after nearly 30s years had passed since he'd abandoned her.

"Agent Carter?"

"Yes, I'm sorry. Could you please repeat that?" Wendy said as she quickly turned back to the Alliance officer and schooled her features.

[Frank Pickett]

AGENT BROYLES

"Our independent contractors take little direction from us and have been mostly inefficient," explained Broyles, closing the vid screen as it finished transferring data to Agent Carter's. It was always difficult meeting with Carter. There was something unsettling about her; something that twisted in him a little. It made him terrified every time he thought she caught him staring at her breasts. "We reached out to a highly recommended bounty hunter not so long ago, gave him limited information, but he has...disappeared." Jubal Early's ship had been tracked to a scrapyard with no sign of the original owner. All data within it had been scrubbed for resale. Officially, Early was presumed dead. Unofficially, it was rumored that the slaughter of four people on a small cargo vessel was due to their rescue of a drifting man with little oxygen left.

"The job has since fallen to you. We believe you might have insight-" Broyles suddenly got the feeling that Wendy wasn't paying attention. It was nothing he could really put his finger on; more of a shift in ambiance. He suddenly felt offended. He cleared his throat noisily. The three Alliance men posing as customers briefly twisted their heads, and Broyles inwardly sighed. Rookies.

"You are paying attention, yes?" he asked, lowering his voice to a stage whisper. He leaned forward. "I don't need to stress the importance of this very high-profile assignment. You know who I work for. Better than most, I'd wager."

[Hollywood Heidi]

WENDY

Wendy was relieved that Broyles hadn't seen who she'd been staring at during her momentary lapse. But it never hurt to add a little more distraction. No need to let good Companion training go to waste. She leaned forward in kind, offering him a better of view of what she'd already caught him glancing at at least twice now. She lowered her voice to a husky stage whisper. "I'm well aware of who you work for. You have my full attention."

[Frank Pickett]

"This was in and out, Lane. Why are you taking so long getting to the payment?" asked Pickett, hunched in the chair and staring directly into the face of his contact. "What went wrong? This is simple."
"The situation is a little tricky," said Lane. "This is all last-minute. So we're gathering what we can give you for the cargo, but...look, just don't be mad if it isn't the amount you want."
Pickett kept staring, and then broke into an unnerving smile. "Oh, Lane. I don't get mad. I get mass murder-y."

AGENT BROYLES

He tried to avert his eyes, and kept his tone steady. "Good. Because the man in charge won't like it if I have to tell him that you let everyone down. Not one bit," he said, and straightened up. He managed to catch a further glimpse. "That's if you fail. Succeed...and you'll have a ticket to his inner circle. I know it's a long, hard road getting there...but it'll be worth it. The rewards will be..." His eyes flickered downard again. "...enormous."

[Hollywood Heidi]

WENDY

Purplebelly pig, she thought as she kept a smile on her face. She leaned back, casually draping an arm on the chair backing. "I've yet to hear a complaint. I'm good at what I do." Wendy had deliberately chosen to lean her left arm on the chair backing in order to turn more away from Pickett to avoid the growing need for another glance of him. Unfortunately, that thought had backfired. She had a clear view of him through the reflection of the glass of the portrait hanging on the wall and her eyes flicked over to him before she could stop herself.

[Frank Pickett]

AGENT BROYLES

There it was. That slight, mild movement. Broyles' eyes shot to the man causing a ruckus over in the corner. "Friend of yours?" he asked, gesturing toward him. Broyles stood before waiting for an answer.

FRANK PICKETT

"No need to blow things out of proportion, Mr Pickett-"
"I expect to get paid-"

A new voice entered. "Gentlemen." Pickett turned, and his fists clenched automatically. An Alliance ID badge was in the intruder's grasp, but Pickett would've clocked the guy as Alliance anyway. The rigid posture, the lifted chin.
"Can I help you, officer?" asked Lane, while Pickett casually lifted the glass his contact had been drinking from.
"Just a few questions-"
A thousand possible questions, yes. Questions about him. Questions about pulling heists and shooting folk, robbing backwater planet towns and tossing explosives into a party. There would be charges, he knew, and he ran through the list in his head. Drunk and disorderly, assault, assault with a deadly weapon, theft, grand larceny, blackmail, arson, conspiracy to commit murder, murder...terrorism. That was what they wanted him for, terrorism. But they wouldn't get him.
The Alliance man was putting away his badge as Lane talked. It hit Pickett like a punch to the gut; Lane had set him up, somehow, at some point, maybe, possibly, definitely. He seized his opportunity.
He tossed the drinking glass into Lane's face, while his other hand ripped a gun from his coat and pressed the barrel to the area just below the Alliance man's left ribcage. He squeezed the trigger twice, and upended the table, shooting through it as he did. A bullet tore through the table into Lane's cheek and an explosion of blood gushed from the back of the fat man's head before he had a chance to wonder what the hell was going on.

There was no time to think anymore, no time to consider if he'd made the right move. He was invested. No going back.

The few customers that were there to drink quickly fled, stumbling out as three plainclothes Alliance officers revealed themselves. They withdrew flashy guns and fired without aiming. Rookies, most likely. Maybe on their first plainclothes op.

He shot twice from the hip, hitting nothing before he dodged behind a table, toppling it for cover. He couldn't remember how much ammo he had. It felt like he'd fired a thousand rounds in the haze. Pickett pushed the table forward, sticking the gun barrel through one of the new bullet holes to fire. When he was close enough, he rose and threw a fist into the first purple-belly's neck. He pulled the gasping man in front of him for cover, and his friends held their fire. The purple-belly had more heart than he let on, however, and slammed his head back into Pickett's nose before grasping at his gun-hand. In the confusion, a few shots rang and then the gun was skidding across the floor.

How the hell did this happen? I wanted to prevent conflict.

Later, when he was running through the blurred events in his head, Pickett could not find a single memory of the knife. It had been tucked in a belt sheath, but he didn't remember removing it. His memory seemed to start and stop, stop and start, and when it started again the knife was melting through the pale flesh of the purple-belly's jawline...and a bullet has skimmed the flesh of his arm, peeling leather from his coat. The knife slipped away.

"On your knees!" screamed the Alliance men. Pickett dropped to his knees next to the fresh body. There was so much blood now.

The first of the two men pointing guns came forward, and reached inside his jacket. Maybe for cuffs, but it wasn't important. What was important was that his gun had lowered about an inch, he was obscuring the view of the other purple-belly and he was just a little distracted. Pickett reached up and hooked his large hands around the man's neck. He spun the purple-belly around, and he had another body shield. "Put your gun down or I'll break his ne-"

The side of his shield's face exploded. The remaining purple-belly had shot his friend, and the sudden impact spilled Pickett to the ground. Blood splattered his face in perfect little pin-drops, and then the last man was standing over him. He looked up, and saw the darkness of a barrel. There would be light there soon.

[Hollywood Heidi]

WENDY

Wendy felt an energy building inside her as each bullet flew at Pickett. She pushed her reader ability to further than ever, reaching into the thoughts of each Alliance member, their thoughts, emotions, plans, strategies vanishing as their lives left their bodies until only one Alliance man was left. The dark and disturbing state of mind of this man who carelessly shot his fellow soldier sent pain shooting through Wendy's head and she withdrew from his mind, but not before she'd felt the sick ecstasy that was coursing through his veins at the anticipation of taking another life. Wendy felt her hate of the Alliance surfacing once again at their lack of morals by making soldiers out of men who should clearly be locked away. She knew there was no way to stop him.

In seconds, Wendy calculated a plan using all the information she'd absorbed of her surroundings during the skirmish and put it in motion. She grabbed a large shard of glass off the table from the broken picture frame and threw it at the man's gun hand as he squeezed the trigger, the impact pushing his aim so that the bullet just missed Pickett's head. The shock and pain of the shard of glass protruding from the man's hand had him dropping the gun and clutching his hand. Wendy dove as she neared the man and slid across the floor on her back, there just in time to catch the gun and shoot him right between the eyes, everything going just as she'd calculated. The man fell dead to the ground, a look of shock on his face.

She had to get out. Fast. Decades of careful planning went down the drain in minutes. She may have just put herself on the Alliance's Most Wanted list. Wendy quickly scrambled to her feet and stood in her blood splattered dress, glaring down at the man she'd just saved. "Damn you, Frank," she said as she quickly and effortlessly removed the remaining bullets. She angrily tossed the gun and bullets in separate directions as she rushed back to the table, grabbed her data screen, and ran out the door.


***Wendy leaves for Planet - New Melbourne - Docks & Surrounding Areas***

[Frank Pickett]

Frank Pickett liked to think of himself as a simple man. He wasn't, but he liked to think of himself as one. He enjoyed casting himself as the hero, and every hero needed some kind of damsel.

The damsel in question had just murdered a man in a wonderfully creative way, so Pickett was more than a little confused. The emotions that came rushing at him twisted around inside. He didn't know if he was happy to see her, relieved that he wasn't dead, grateful for her intervention, astonished that he'd just seen the woman he'd thought about every single day since leaving Verbena in the flesh, or just downright shocked that the sweet young girl who was too clever by half had just killed someone.

In the end, he settled on confusion.

His face gleamed with sweat; the coppery smell of blood was beginning to rise but all he could hear was the violent beating of his own art. Weakly, he stood. There was somebody else breathing in the room, and he glanced around. It was coming from behind the bar.

Pickett retrieved his gun and his knife; more Alliance would turn up soon. There were no security cameras, at least none that he could see. He rounded the bar, seeing the bartender huddled beneath. Upon seeing Pickett, he screwed his crying eyes shut. "I didn't see anything. My eyes are closed. I didn't see anything." Pickett felt a sudden, deep sympathy for the poor man.

Frank shot him in the head and quickly sped out of the bar after the damsel with the big gun.

***Pickett leaves for New Melbourne - Docks & Surrounding Areas***