Bean looked up at the evening sky—filled with stars, scattered like salt across black velvet—and smiled.
'What a wonderful day.'
But it wasn't the sky he found beautiful… He could care less about something he saw every single night.
The stars didn't pay his bills neither did the moon put food on his table.
His attention was on the mark up ahead… An easy mark.
Bean had barely started his shift when he found this fresh meat, and it was still warm.
The kind that came once in a blue moon… no, once in a full moon and it wasn't even guaranteed.
It was so good he wanted to thank whatever god was listening for delivering dinner straight to his doorstep.
Even with the mask covering his face and the hoodie, It wasn't hard to spot inexperienced people in the Black Market.
They just seemed different even when they are wearing mask and completely cloaked.
Call it sixth sense or experience or whatever else you wanted Bean could just tell.
This particular mark had blown hundreds of thousands of Credits on medical supplies and other odds and ends.
Bean hadn't been close enough to see exactly what was in the boxes, but it didn't matter.
Medical supplies were always easy to sell, especially drugs.
It didn't matter what kind. Junkies were creative… give them something potent and they'd figure out how to mix it themselves.
He could flip this haul for at least two-thirds of the price. Probably more if he found the right buyer.
Now he and his best friend were tailing the mark.
From what Bean could tell, the kid still hadn't noticed. Not once had he looked back nor had he checked his surroundings.
He was just walking—head forward, boxes swinging at his sides—with absolutely zero awareness.
'Amateur.'
He was practically leading them to a secluded spot. Bean almost felt bad.
Almost.
The mark turned a corner, a narrow alley between two old buildings without cameras and with minimal lights.
Perfect.
Bean's best friend glanced at him and gave a small nod.
Bean understood immediately and he nodded back after all they have done this a thousand times.
His best friend hurried up, trying to catch the mark in that blind spot while Bean hung back slightly, keeping watch.
His eyes were sweeping the street behind them trying to make sure no one else was following.
'Easy money.'
He heard the footsteps of his friend rounding the corner.
Then—
*BAM*
A sound like a bag of bricks hitting concrete causing Bean to freeze.
He caught the shadow of a man falling backward and the next sound came almost immediately.
*BAM*
His best friend was laid out flat on the ground spread-eagle, face-up. Not moving.
'What the fuck?'
Bean didn't need to think.
His hand reached back into his waistband on pure instinct and his fingers wrapped around the familiar grip of his gun.
He pulled it out fast and raised it toward the corner.
And slowly inched forward carefully while every nerve in his body was screaming at him to run or shoot.
He inched closer, silently hoping the assaulter would step into the open.
But nothing.
He threw a quick glance down at his best friend while still keeping his distance. From his position he could see a bump on his forehead, but his skull didn't seem broken.
But he couldn't be sure without getting even closer.
"I know you're there," Bean shouted, his voice bouncing off the brick walls. "Come out now."
Still nothing.
The alley was silent except for the distant hum of traffic and his own heartbeat thudding in his ears.
"I have a gun," Bean called out again.
He waited.
Again nothing.
'Fuck.'
Eventually, he grew impatient.
His best friend was lying there, defenceless and every second Bean hesitated was a second someone could be getting the drop from behind.
He considered firing a warning shot at the corner—just to scare whoever was back there, just to buy himself some time but that felt like a bad idea.
He moved forward with his eyes locked on the corner, gun raised and finger hovering over the trigger.
His eyes glanced down at his best friend…
Just for a millisecond and something came flying at his face.
Bean immediately raised his hand to defend himself. His arm came up and he was able to deflect the object but that didn't matter much.
Even though he was successful, his focus shattered and he lost his gun.
It clattered to the ground, spinning once before stopping somewhere in the shadows.
Before he could reach for it or before he could mount any kind of defence or offense… he saw a fist coming toward his face.
*BAM*
Nicholas's fist connected with his jaw.
Bean's head snapped sideways and his vision exploded into white fireworks.
His legs turned to water underneath him as he stumbled backward, arms flailing, trying to catch himself.
But the assaulter did not spare him, he rushed him and swept his feet out from under him.
Bean hit the ground hard forcing the air out of his lungs in a single, desperate wheeze.
He tried to stand by pushing himself up with his hands, but the assaulter's foot connected with his jaw.
Bean's mouth filled with blood, and he tasted copper and failure.
"Stay down," the calm voice came from behind the white, featureless mask. "Or I will continue your beating."
Bean stopped struggling.
He lay there, flat on his back, staring up at the stars he hadn't cared about a few minutes ago.
'Fuck me.'
He could only hope this mark wouldn't go too far.
Nicholas walked over and picked up the gun, using a handkerchief, careful not to leave prints.
Although he didn't know much about this world crime detection he still handled it like he used to.
Wrapping the handkerchief around his finger before pointing the gun at Bean.
Not dramatically. Not angrily. Just... casually. Like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"Run me your pockets buddy," Nicholas said casually, confirming he had most definitely done this before.
Bean looked at the mark standing over him.
And in that moment, Bean realized something.
This guy wasn't an amateur. The entire thing was a trap.