[Collaboration between Mach and Ghost Shadow]

Vagrant walked down the streets of Thirteen, the backpack slung over her shoulders weighted down significantly moreso than usual. Despite the weight, her walk was easy and confident, her chin held high as though she owned the street. Occasionally, someone would cast a second glance at her slightly arrogant smile, but most passed her by. 

Gradually, the streets grew narrower, and less populated. Within a few moments, she had reached a network of back alleys where most would become lost in a matter of minutes. Graffiti on the walls marked it as a claimed gang territory. The logo was stenciled on the sides of buildings, clearly visible to a trained eye. A burning rose, painted in red and orange. Vagrant had made deals with the Devil's Own crew before. She knew their faces, and trusted them just enough to return for a second deal. 

Stopping outside a door bearing the burning rose tag, she raised a fist to knock. Seconds passed, and the door finally opened a crack. The man standing before her towered over her by a solid foot, and wore a distinctively raggedy bow-tie. She'd caught his name last time, and greeted him like an old friend, even though she barely knew him. "Hey, Jackson. How goes it?" Vagrant asked, a pleasant grin on her face. 

He gave a mocking smile in return. "You got a passcode for me, girlie?" 

"Yeah, I would, if you guys could keep 'em to less than eight syllables," she retorted, voice dripping sarcasm. "Tell you what I do got. Fancy fancy guns that you ain't gonna get unless you let me in."

Jackson frowned, clearly debating for a moment before opening the door fully for the petite redhead. She smirked, walking under the arm he held the door with, and entered the room. With the same easy confidence she'd had while walking outside, Vagrant made her way to the centre of the room, where a group of approxamitely seven men and women were gathered around a table. She set her backpack down, unzipping it, and began pulling out contraband weaponry one item at a time, laying them before her on the table. "Ladies and gents, as promised. One laser gun for each o' yous. Best tech you'll see outside o' Alpha, or nearabouts anyways."She looked across the table, seeking out the face of the Devil's Own's leader, a severe woman with her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. "I'm rememberin' the deal was eighty credits a piece, yeah?"

The woman tilted her head, smiling sweetly. "Deal changed. Now you just leave us those guns, and you get to walk out of here in one piece, Vagrant."

It took a half a second for the scowl to appear on her face. And a fraction of that before she had raised her voice, speaking angrily across the table. "I ain't leaving 'til you give me what's mine!" 

Instantly, hands had gripped her by the upper arms, and two of the men were dragging her towards the door. Vagrant twisted fiercely, rotating her torso and managing to drive a knee up into the crotch of the one on her left. He staggered, and the one on her right wasted no time in pushing her to the ground. She landed hard, scrambling to her feet and raising her fists for the now-inevitable fight. 

Havok patrolled the streets of District 13, his head cocking side to side in an autonomous manner, his rifle held in his hands. He had been notified only hours before of quite a large bounty placed on the Devil's Own gang, every last member exterminated with their ears brought back as proof of Havok's success. Of course, it made no sense why bounty collectors still required proof these days; everyone knew Havok was the best assassin droid ever built. 

He trailed their signals and symbols down the labyrinth-esque maze of alleys that were spread across Zone Beta. Havok, in his true fashion casually strolled up to the front door, knocking loudly, sending an echo throughout the entire building.

Instead of rushing at the small girl with her fists held up in a ready position, everyone's attention now turned to the door. The ponytailed woman's face twisted into an expression of disapproval. "You brought friends, Vagrant? We told you to come alone."

Vagrant's only response was a shake of her head. "I don't go no friends. Whoever's there is there for you."

Unconvinced, the woman gave a quick nod at one of her men. He rushed forward, fast enough that even Vagrant was too slow to avoid him. She gave a sharp yell of frustration before he had her in a chokehold, and one of the women at the table moved towards the door. 

Havok could only emit a small chuckle at the chaos that was about to ensue and kicked the door open, immediatly opening fire upon the first gangster he saw, shooting a total of three times into his chest, leaving burning holes behind. 

Havok continued the assault with deadly efficiency, landing only headshots or chest-shots, occasionally shooting the weapons out of opposing gangsters hands before killing them a moment later. He saved the leader for last, shooting her in both knees . He would relish this kill...

The woman fell, her shattered knees unable to support her weight. From the ground, she cast a quick glance around the room. Her entire crew was dead. The gang she had worked her life to become a part of, to build up, was gone. Her teeth gritted in pain, she yelled in Vagrant's direction, though she couldn't see where the girl had gone. "No friends, my ass! A killer bot is a hell of a friend."

She turned to face Havok, fierce defiance in her eyes. If she was going to die, she would face it bravely. 

Havok looked her in the eyes, his own cold...lifeless...yet alive with the menacing yellow glow emitting from his photoreceptors. "Your devised attempt at displaying bravery is admirable, but quite easily obtrusive. You are afraid...such feelings only experienced by a [i]human[/i] platform." He said the word 'human' with extreme disgust, as if it sickened him to say it. Finally, he put a single energy bolt into her head, watching as she crumpled to the floor, lifeless. 

Vagrant, meanwhile, had retreated to the farthest corner of the room the second the man choking her had fallen limp. Without conscious thought, she had curled up there, becoming as small as possible and watching the scene play out before her. 

Blood was soaking through the shirts of the gang members, beginning to pool on the ground around them. 

She blinked rapidly, shaking and hyperventilating, and her gaze shifted to the robot. In a matter of seconds, he had killed everyone in the room. But she was alive. Had he missed? Vagrant pressed herself tighter into the corner, trying to remain unnoticed. 

Havok looked about the room carefully. "Step out, child." Havok commanded in a cool tone, his blaster rifle simply held dormantly in his off hand. "My photoreceptors detect you are not part of the Devil's Own gang. Why are you here, and why shouldn't I shoot you right here?" He demanded

Still tremoring, Vagrant climbed to her feet. "Ain't a child," she retorted in an attempt at defiance. The effect was slightly marred by the shell-shocked terror present in her voice. "I was...was making a deal with them. Selling 'em guns."

She glanced again at the bodies all around her. Blood. Everywhere. Even though there wasn't truly that much of it, thanks to the bot's brutal efficiency, it felt as though she was going to drown in the stuff. She took a quick breath and looked away, meeting the android's gaze. 'You shouldn't kill me 'cause...'cause..." she racked her brain, trying to think of a reason. But the blood was painfully distracting. It sent her mind back, dragging up memories she didn't want to think about. Austin. His death. The men who killed him...inspiration struck, and she spoke up with some of her usual confidence. ' 'Cause I got other folks you can kill."

Havok continued to look down at her, standing at least a foot taller than her. "Your platform poses no immediate threat of mine; and your offer intrigues me...very well, child, I will not waste ammo shooting your precious frame to bits." Havok finally conceded. "I have not had a master, excuse me, mistress in some time; this will be quite interesting. I am yours to command." He finally finished with a curt nod of his head.

She blinked, entirely surprised that her attempt at diplomacy had actually worked. "Ain't a child," she repeated. Smiling slightly, she stared at the robot for a moment. "Mine to command? Um..."

Glancing once again around the room, she quickly retrieved her backpack, tucking two of the laser guns back inside before slipping it over her shoulders. Somehow, in all of that mess, her bag had remained free of blood. She was relieved. "Right. I command you to go outside. I ain't liking it in here no more."

Havok tucked the barrel of his rifle over his shoulder nonchalantly. "Very well, Mistress." He said in a casual tone, strolling from the ransacked building outside, where he stood in wait patiently. 

"Ah, yes, Mistress; another thing. I came here to collect a bounty on these gang members. 200 credits for the leader, 50 credits per additional kill. "As my mistress you are entitled to at least 75% of the funds made from the bounty - I simply need to collect the ears." Havok informed, not moving from the spot he was ordered to. 

"Ain't a 'Mistress', neither," Vagrant corrected Havok as she followed him out, making a face of contempt at the word. 

Once outside, she inhaled deeply. The air in the alleyway was far from fresh, but it wasn't laced with the scent of blood like it was inside. She looked at Havok, raising an eyebrow. "75%?" She tried to do the math in her head. 200 credits for the leader, plus....eight multiplied by fifty....and seventy-five percent.... "How much is that?" 

Regardless of the exact value, it was a lot. And would probably make up for the money she'd lost when the sale of the laser guns had gone sour. "Yeah...go grab the ears, then," Vagrant instructed him. As an afterthought, she quickly added on, "Only don't show 'em to me. I don't wanna see no dismembered ears." 

"Affirmative, Mistress, I will be sure to minimilize psychological damage done to your core computer until such times it is necessary against hostilities." Havok ensured, rather unpromising though. 

He walked back inside the building, remaining silent for a few minutes before returning out once more, a slightly soiled sack held absent-mindedly in one of his hands. 

"75% of the total credits earned computes into 450 standard credits. I recommend you purchase a calculation device, Mistress; running mathematical equations is not using my programming to its full capacity." He objected, albeit casually. 

"Ain't a 'Mistress'," she corrected once more. "Find a different word or something."

She smiled at the thought of the credits. Not quite as much as she would have made off the laser guns...but she still had two she could sell off somewhere. And 450 was still a hell of a solid amount. "I ain't buying a calculator. Got better stuff I can spend 450 creds on."

She started walking back down the alleyway, trusting that Havok would follow. "So how's this work, then? I tell you who I want dead, and they die?"

Havok followed loyally. "But, Mistress, what else am I to call you? I am quite alarmed indeed; never have I had a master or mistress that has not decided to go by that term. My archived data confirms organics feel a certain necessity in holding titles of authority or power."

"Just call me Vagrant. That's what everyone calls me," she answered, ready to be rid of the awkward title of 'Mistress'.

He stopped for a moment before answering her next question. "Affirmative, Vagrant. My prime directive is the assassination or murder of selected targets, whichever method you direct me to. Stealthy assassination via a sniper rifle bolt to the head, burning alive, poison gas, explosives...psychological terror?" He added the last method with a sinister edge to his voice. 

Vagrant nodded decisively at the last option listed. "Yes. That last one. The terror thing."

Her expression had changed, the arrogant half-smile leaving, replaced now with something far colder. The girl's pale blue eyes turned icy as she recalled once again the night her brother died. If that hadn't been a case of pure terror for her, she didn't know what would be. "I want 'em scared to death." 

For a second, she frowned. "Problem, though...I don't got names or nothing. I'm still trying to find these guys."

"Well then, I am afraid I cannot comply with your command without at least [i]some[/i] sort of information. I recommend you begin searching everywhere. My databanks confirm there are information brokers scattered around who can gather informatoin on anyone - for the right price, of course. If, you wish, I could shoot them from the feet up to earn us a 'discount'." Havok suggested, a sudden flare in his photoreceptors. 

"You think I ain't been trying to find these guys? Been looking for the past two months," Vagrant replied to the robot. At the threat to start shooting people, she shook her head. "Nah, no shootin' folk unless I say so."

She chewed at her bottom lip, thinking. Over the past two months, she had tried to get information on Austin's killers from a variety of people. Crime lords, drunkards, anyone who might be connected. But over the past two months, she hadn't had 450 credits to her name. "Might make a difference, though, havin' some actual money to pay 'em with now. I'd rather buy info on these guys than blow that money on a calculator," she told Havok with a smirk. "How about we go collect your bounty and then see who we can talk to, yeah?"

"Oh of course I figured you would have been searching for these targets. But an organic is so...inefficient at gathering data; it is only best you found me when you did, if not sooner." Havok stated with a sharp nod. "The bounty office is only an estimated mile-and-a-half from here. These credits will help us in our mission, I understand."

"Well, 'scuse me for being an [i]organic[/i]," Vagrant scoffed jokingly. She grinned, excited to finally be making headway in the case of her brother's murder. "Lead the way, Mr Robot. Let's go get ourselves a bounty."

"I take offense to that title, Mist-I mean Vagrant...how would you like it if I incessently referred to you as a fleshy sack of goop and...fluid? Wouldn't make you feel good, would it?" Havok asked, feigning a wounded tone, placing a single hand where his 'heart' would be. 

She was taken aback by the fact that she had managed to 'insult' the machine. "Right...sorry?" she apologized after a second of hesitation. "I won't call you "Mr Robot" no more, and you won't call me "Mistress". So I'm Vagrant, and you're...?" she asked, realizing he hadn't actually told her what to call him yet. 

Havok switched gears, seeming to completely forget his previous anger. "I am unit identification: HA-VK, designation: Havok, which you will refer to me as. Assassin droid and part-time translator." He finished introducing himself. "And you seem young to be my new Mist- oh dear, I keep slipping up again. It's been so long since I've had one disowning their own title." He mused to himself. 

"S'okay Mr Robot," Vagrant smirked in response to his slip-up. "And I ain't so young. I'm old enough to take care o' myself, so I ought to be old enough to handle a killer robot, too." 

"If you say so, Vagrant; I am your ever loyal machine." Havok reassured in a resigned tone. "Anyways, to the bounty office. My gun has already started to cool." He said amusedly before continuing ahead towards the direction of the bounty office.

Adjusting the straps of her backpack over her shoulders, Vagrant followed Havok. Her usual over-confident grin was back on her face. What had started out as a disastrous contraband deal gone wrong, had now turned into an excellent opportunity.