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A drink slid across the table and stopped just short of Nyx’s seat.
She made a habit of parking herself in the darkest corners of any saloon where she found herself. She found it put her customer’s minds more at ease; no one liked discussing such business out in the open, not unless they were really bold or really stupid, and she had come to know that was where the mechs with the stingiest pockets arose. In that sense, it gave her a sense of security as well, no one approached her unless they were certain to solicit her services.
That being said, Nyx made a show of side eyeing the drink- a simple glass of high grade with a few frozen rust sticks swirling around- and pulled out a silver flask from her waistcoat pocket instead. She had also come to learn that taking any proffered drinks, especially from a stranger, was bad business as well.
She tilted her head back and took a swig. Her preferred brand of engex sent a stream of fire through her fuel lines, starting at her olfactory sensors and shooting down from there. Yet there was also a cloying sweetness to it, if you stuck around long enough not to spit it out.
She swiveled the cap back on and reached up to wipe her mouth with the back of her servo. Across from her, she heard the chair scrape against the floor as someone heavy settled in it, and spared a glance up at her prospective customer.
She froze, and slowly lowered her servo.
At her table sat the infamous Megatron, smiling his uncanny smile and dressed in a dark long coat and hat. Behind him stood one of his goons no doubt, bright red with a scrawny face. She would have to play her cards very carefully.
“What’s the king of New Kaon doing in a place like this?”
She saw him puff up and knew that flattery would be the way to go.
“A charming moniker, my dear, but you may simply call me Megatron, yes.”
‘My dear’. She curled her lip at that and gripped the back of her chair, but otherwise did her best to keep herself schooled. “You know what I do, then?”
"Indeed, and I have it on good authority that you very well may be the best around. Certainly skilled enough indeed to outpace my own mecha. Ravage was quite upset you had gotten to the hit on that banker before him some decacycles ago.”
Nyx fiddled with her flask in one servo as the other tightened on the chair, purposefully avoiding his gaze. “Look, I’m not in this business to take sides, I don’t care about what weird spike measuring contest you got going on. If your guy wanted that bounty, he should’ve been quicker.”
"Do not mistake my admiration for a threat, no,” Megatron was quick to assuage her, holding up his servos in defense, an easy smile still upon his face, “I simply know a good mercenary when I am presented with one, and I have use for a good mercenary yet.”
Nyx, rather wisely, did not ask what had happened to the old one. She traced her thumb over the scores and scuff marks on her old flask, watching as it shone back all the colors of her paint, but never anything concrete enough to be called a reflection.
“I’m listening,” she said.
She received a request for a two way comm. channel. She leaned back in her chair as she did a quick rundown of all her firewalls, encryptions, and other safety nets she set up to keep herself out of the mnemosurgeon’s chair. None were too fancy- mostly hack jobs she set up herself- but they got the job done and sure enough, all pinged back positive. She nodded her head over to Megatron in confirmation. Finally, she opened up the line and read,
[One of my own has defected. I wish to make an example of the bot.]
Defection. She rolled the word around for a moment before replying,
[That former SIC of yours, right? The sheriffs pet?]
Nyx heard a derisive snort across from her, and knew instantly that she had struck a nerve. She made a mental note to shuffle her deck around.
[That traitor will be dealt with eventually, however this matter is much more pressing.]
[More pressing?]
Suddenly, the line was flooded with a barrage of images. She blinked and shuttered through each of them, filing them away under a new folder in her processor. They appeared to be showcasing the same town, utterly devastated by the work of what may have perhaps been a tornado, a pack of thieves, or maybe even an unlucky herd of cyberbulls. Nyx wracked her processor as she tried to recall if she had ever seen this town previously. Before all the destruction, that is.
As if sensing her need for an answer, Megatron continued.
[This used to be the outpost Garrus-9. Rather charming place, until she tore through it. And this, my dear, is only a taste of what that dangerous femme can do]
The next set of images found Nyx staring optic to optic with the aforementioned bot herself. Skold. She rolled the name around her tongue with much more consideration. Her first thought was that if she alone had truly caused that destruction, that she certainly looked the part.
Rough-hewn face with a strong jaw, hidden behind a mask bedighted with light scores and scuff marks that had Nyx pressing her whole servo to the metal of her flask as if she could touch the face herself if she willed it enough. From there a hunger was born so fervent that it sharpened her optics and fangs alike. She felt in the back of her mouth salivation take hold, a scorching burn laden with the promise of sweetness, and she knew that she was caught. For if there was one thing she could not resist, in this life or the next, it was the thrill of a challenge.
And Skold promised to be a very tempting challenge indeed.
"How long you givin' me?" Nyx asked aloud.
"Three months," Megatron purred, "and as a show of good faith, I will even pay you half upfront. Terrorsaur!"
The red mech behind him had been dozing off for quite some time. Megatron elbowed him in the joint between his naval armor and glared as he jolted awake. Quickly, Terrorsaur unclipped a satchel on his belt and threw it carelessly on the table.
Nyx finally tore her gaze away from Skold to scrutinize the so called good faith. She unsheathed a jet black dagger from a strap on the side of her leg and sliced through it in one clean motion. The blood that spilt forth was shimmering and gold, and she took a piece up to her wary optic. She rubbed it between her thumb and forefinger, and felt the weight in its value. Unbidden, the sight of Cybertron through the window view of her very own spaceship entered her processor.
“A princely sum, don’t you agree? And you shall receive the rest when I get my bounty. And who knows? Do well on this, and you may earn another job from me yet taking care of that…sheriffs pet, yes.
“One last question,” Said Nyx, catching the coin in her servo and tucking it away, “Dead, or alive?”
Megatron’s careful smile slipped into an ugly sneer, his servo tightening into a fist.
“If I do not have that savage’s helm on a pike and her diffused spark in a box, I will be a very unhappy mech indeed.”
A flicker of surprise jumped across her EM field. Carefully considering her cards left to play, Nyx allowed herself one last look the picture of Skold before she filed it away in its own folder. Then, she swept up the satchel of coins into her own bag, and held out her servo.
“You’ve got yourself a deal.”
Megatron beamed as he took her servo for a brief bit firm shake.
“A pleasure doing business with you. I will send you her last known coordinates. I trust you can take it from there?”
Nyx leaned all the way back in her chair, kicking her pedes up on the table. She shot him a pair of finger-guns and a wink from underneath the brim of her hat, accompanied by the click of her vocalizer.
“Then I shall leave you to enjoy the rest of your evening. Come, Terrorsaur.”
Megatron arose from his seat at last and led Terrorsaur away from her table, bringing with them a temporary alleviation of the burden of her new job.
Once she could see no more of them, she righted herself in her chair and reached for her flask. Rather than drink from it, she quietly ran her thumb along its imperfections.
For a moment, if she tried, she could see her own uncanny frown reflected back in it.