The "Rust Market" was located inside the ribcage of a crashed starship that had fallen fifty years ago. It was a place where you could buy anything: illegal microchips, stolen kidneys, or a bowl of radioactive soup.
Zeph adjusted his hood. "My AI says the air quality here is 40% toxic fumes. I should hold my breath."
"Just breathe shallow," Kaelen muttered, pushing through the crowd of scavengers and criminals.
They stopped in front of a booth made of welded scrap metal. Behind the counter sat Grix, a goblin-like man with four mechanical arms. He was polishing a laser rifle.
"Grix!" Zeph grinned, leaning on the counter. "My favorite four-armed bandit! How's the family? Still ugly?"
Grix looked up. His cybernetic eye zoomed in on Zeph. "Vane. I heard you were dead. Or rich. Which is it?"
"Rich," Kaelen said, dropping the bag of stolen gear onto the counter. It landed with a heavy clank. "We need to liquidate. Now."
Grix opened the bag. He whistled. "Police issue. High-grade scopes. Stun batons. And... is that a thermal grenade?"
"Slightly used," Zeph said quickly. "One previous owner. He dropped dead of natural causes."
"Lie Detected," the AI whispered. "Heart rate of subject Grix increased. He wants the gear. Estimated Value: 15,000 credits."
Grix scratched his chin with a metal claw. "Hot merchandise. Very hot. I can give you... two thousand."
"Two thousand?!" Zeph scoffed. "That grenade alone is worth three! Come on, Grix. Look at this craftsmanship!"
"Negotiation Tactic suggested: Mention the rival fence, 'Big Tony'. Probability of price increase: 65%."
"Besides," Zeph said smoothly, "Big Tony down the street offered us five thousand just for the scopes."
Grix narrowed his eyes. "Tony is a liar."
"Maybe," Zeph shrugged. "But his credits spend just as well."
Grix grumbled. He tapped on a calculator. "Okay, okay. You're squeezing me. Four thousand. Final offer."
Zeph smirked. He was about to push for six thousand. The AI was feeding him Grix's tell—his third arm twitched when he was lying.
"Actually, I think—" Zeph started.
SLAM.
Kaelen's hand hit the metal counter.
The shadows in the booth suddenly grew long. The lights flickered and died. The only light came from Grix's cybernetic eye, which was now looking frantically around the dark booth.
"Ten thousand," Kaelen whispered.
His voice didn't come from his mouth. It seemed to come from the corners of the room.
Grix swallowed hard. "Now look here, Thorne. I run a business—"
A shadow wrapped around Grix's throat. It wasn't tight enough to kill, but cold enough to burn.
"Ten. Thousand," Kaelen repeated. He leaned forward. His eyes were completely black. No whites. Just void. "Or I liquidate you."
Grix couldn't breathe. His mechanical arms flailed, knocking over the laser rifle.
"Kae!" Zeph hissed, grabbing Kaelen's arm. "Stop! We're negotiating! You're choking the customer!"
Kaelen didn't look at Zeph. He stared at Grix. "Do we have a deal?"
"Y-yes!" Grix wheezed. "Ten! Take it!"
The shadows vanished instantly. The lights flickered back on.
Grix collapsed onto his stool, rubbing his frozen neck. With shaking hands, he transferred the credits to a chip and threw it at them.
"Get out," Grix rasped. "Don't come back. You're crazy. Both of you."
Kaelen snatched the chip. He turned and walked away, looking calm.
Zeph looked at Grix apologetically. "He's... uh... haven't had his coffee yet. Sorry about the neck."
Zeph ran after Kaelen.
"What was that?!" Zeph demanded, catching up to him. "I had him! I was using logic! I was using leverage!"
"I used fear," Kaelen said, tucking the chip into his pocket. "It's faster."
"Analysis," the AI chimed in. "Fear is a short-term motivator. It creates enemies. Logic creates partners. Subject Kaelen is choosing efficiency over stability."
"He's choosing to be a bully," Zeph thought back.
"We got double what you were asking for," Kaelen said, stopping and turning to face Zeph. "Results, Zeph. That's all that matters. You told me that once."
"I was talking about picking up girls!" Zeph shouted. "Not strangling fences!"
Kaelen stepped closer. The air grew cold again. "We are hunted, Zeph. The whole city wants our heads. I don't have time to be nice. I have to be scary. Because if they aren't scared of us... they'll kill us."
Zeph looked into his friend's eyes. The blackness was gone, but the hardness remained.
"You're scaring me," Zeph whispered.
Kaelen flinched. For a second, he looked hurt. The old Kaelen peeked through.
"I..." Kaelen started.
Then, a siren wailed in the distance.
Kaelen's face hardened again. "Good. If you're scared, maybe you'll stay alive."
He turned and walked into the crowd.
Zeph stood there for a moment.
"Warning," the AI said softly. "Emotional distance between subjects increasing. Probability of betrayal: 15%."
"Shut up," Zeph told the voice. "He's just stressed."
"Stress reveals character," the AI replied. "It does not change it."
Zeph shivered. He looked at Kaelen's back, and for the first time, he wondered if the real monster wasn't the bounty hunters.