Raygun Heights

6

 Achim Horvitz sat at the controls of the hovercar and was under strict orders not to leave unless a firefight broke out. If Civil Protection came along, asking questions, just tap on the ident tag that was on the corner of the craft's frame. The barcode with the symbol of the red scorpid underneath the array of black scan lines would usually convince Protection to move along. The only time Protection was unfazed was in the event one of theirs was slain. A dead member of Protection meant everyone was eyeballed and only the true leaders of the four gangs in Raygun Heights went unmolested. Business would slow down unless one of the gangs could produce the shooter, or a very good fall guy.

Achim sighed as he sat behind and leaned an elbow against the dashboard. The atmospheric shield was engaged, surrounding the top half of the frame with a tinted forcefield that locked the cool air within the confines. The environment was bearable compared to the outside. Even with the shield surrounding the city, the shimmering lines of heat vapor rolled along the sand blown cobbled streets. Horvitz looked from the streets to the sidewalk to the commotion that was across the street. Lono and Mohr were on the scene, shaking down one of the pleasure houses that dotted the city.

The houses specialized in a motley of vices, all had a significant expertise or stake in a single area: chems with dark rooms where people could smoke, shoot, or listen to in ecstasy. Drink, which dominated the planet as a whole, ranging from high classed fluff to liquids that were part industrial mix. In this case, the vice was company, typically female, but several appetites were catered too. The madam of the house stood with her jaws firmly clenched as her brown eyes darted between the pair of collectors.

Mohr was the talker of the pair. He was Human, all three of them were. A lot of the Scorpion Syndicate was represented by Humanity. There were a few Tigrans and Saurians, but both were droplets in the bucket of Humanity which filled out the gang and also held sway over a large section of Raygun Heights as a whole.

"Alright, Jez, where's the money?" Mohr said as he watched another miner dart through the door of one of the smaller prefab units. It was originally designated as a smaller class tenement when 'Jezebel' purchased the lot from the Colonial Board. "Half the block lined up to do business, and I'm still seeing a light payment?"

"Some of the girls are slow to pay up. They've got bills and mouths to feed," Jez complained, "We've worked long enough for Timon to give us some kind of break."

Jezebel was a woman that most men lusted over rather than admire. Dark hair, with an athletic figure in a tight shirt and shorts with close cut pant legs. She stood taller than most Humans, Mohr had to look up to her, which could make her intimidating. Her arms were crossed under her bust as she looked at Mohr with an even stare. He flinched.

Mohr turned his head after enduring a stare at his partner, Lono. Lono was taller than Mohr, matching the height of Jezebel, sporting a lifter's build and scarred knuckles from exercising them on Hochar or Saurians who were tough, the ones that could fight back actually gave Lono trouble, which was why he enjoyed muscle jobs like this one. The big man inched his head towards Mohr and the signal passed between them. Lono turned, rounding Mohr, and walked toward Jez's stoop.

Jezebel turned her head, frowning as she watched Lono.

"You're taking from Timon, Jez. If you're careful, he'll take from you."

Jez shook her head and looked back at Mohr, "Let me... give me more time, I can see if I can get more. Please." She just wanted the pair to get away from her building before the scene turned ugly. She had her life savings in a hidden vault built into her floor. She hated to dip into it, but she saw Lono standing at the entrance, knowing he saw something valuable to her.

"Lono," Mohr said aloud, grinning at Jezebel's sudden fluster. She was no longer as imperious looking as before. He saw Lono reach into his coat pocket. That's where a twin-barrel blaster was kept. The weapon had a shorter range compared to most pistols, but it had an intensity that could vaporize a humanoid's arm off in one hit.