[Collab between Ghost Shadow and Mach2]

-------------------------------------------

Havok stood in front of the bounty office patiently as a rather short, portly man was busy typing away at a computer. He finally looked towards Havok, fear coming into his squinty, wet eyes as he looked Havok up and down. "Y-y-yes, Havok? Can I help you?" He asked meekly, obviously lacking the spine to be an actual bounty hunter, settling instead for a desk job. 

"I completed my mission." Havok said casually, dumping the contents of his bag onto the desk, already-decomposing ears piled atop each other. "The leader and her lackeys, as promised; now, I want my money." Havok demanded in a tone that didn't hold any sign of objection. 

The man sat uneasily as he rather frantically typed into his computer. "Transferring credits to your account, Havok; it's all there!" The man laughed uneasily. 
"Affirmative." Havok said simply before sharply turning and striding out. 

He stepped up to his mistress, looking down at her before speaking, "450 credits transferred to your personal account, Mistress." He informed in a businesslike manner. 

She smiled broadly when she saw Havok walk out, having been growing steadily more impatient while waiting. Vagrant nodded with an air of assumed authority. "It's my brother's account, technically," she answered with an offhanded shrug. "But thanks, Mr. Robot."

"So, we good to head off? You said you knew who we could talk to, right?" she asked, nearly in the same breath as her word of thanks. She was clearly ready to start making headway. 

Havok only 'blinked' at her, his yellow photoreceptors flaring for a moment. "Do I look like a walking, talking map to you, Mistress? My job is to facilitate communications and terminate hostilities. How do you expect me to locate an information broker all the way out here? Do you know why you never hear of information brokers? Because all the smart ones are hidden! The dumb ones were terminated. Which may or may not have been part of a contract I was...somewhat involved in." Havok finished hesitantly. 
"There is one my databanks to turn up...the Datacore she's called. Insane, so I hear; obsessed with information. All the best ones are. Perhaps we could find information there. And if you're especially cheap, Mistress, I could always just blast her; would that please you?" Havok asked, slight enjoyment in his voice. 

"No wonder I ain't been able to find no one who knows nothing," Vagrant muttered, her speech a rush of double negatives. "You going 'round killing all of 'em."

She had never heard of this 'Datacore' that Havok spoke of. Insane? The thought was slightly discouraging. Would they be able to trust information from a source like that? Still...it was better than what she had so far, which was essentially [i]nothing[/i]. "Datacore sounds like a good place to start. You know where [i]she[/i] is, or is she one of the hiding ones?" 

She paused for a second, and then quickly added on, "And no blasting unless I say so."

"Oh, but, Mistress!" He began in despair, "I haven't harmed organics in minutes! My behavioral core is growing anxious. And while my databanks don't hold much information on 'the Datacore'..I know someone who does. Perhaps they will listen to reason...or the barrel of a gun staring them in the face. I remember my first contract..." Havok let out a nostalgic sigh, "My contract was your typical 'tough guy', wriggling little informant. Cracked as soon as he knew what I was there for. I went from assassin to 'shoulder to cry on' within minutes. He lost control of his bowels at least two times." Havok informed. 

As Havok spoke, the expression on Vagrant's face seemed to take on a slightly confused look. His speech patterns were beginning to be a headache for her to follow. She raised an eyebrow at the last sentence. "You mean he crapped himself?" she asked. 

She shook her head, smiling slightly at the android's overly complex vocabulary. "Then why not just say "he crapped himself"? Who says [i]bowels[/i]? And can we go soon? You can tell me about guys you scared the shit outta on our way to find whoever you're taking us to see." 

Havok sighed audibly, this time in irritance. "Mistress, I will not sink to such repugnant organic vocabulary. I would rather put a blaster pistol to my core computer and pull the trigger rather than misuse the potential of my optimum engineering. My vocabulator is top-of-the-line!" 

With that, he began walking in a random direction. "This is a one-time deal, Mistress. Usually, I follow my masters; not the other way around. You are a strange mistress, Mistress - I like you." He complimented before continuing to walk. 

She grinned proudly at the almost-compliment. "Thanks, Mr. Robot. You ain't too bad, either."

"Anyways, where was I? Ah, yes, my first contract. The man was a complete mess, even for an organic! 'Oh please don't kill me' he cried, 'I didn't do it, I swear.' I noticed in my time that organics will lie as much as they can if they believe it will save them from punishment. In this case I suffered his blubbering enough and promptly shut him up with an energy bolt to the neck." Havok finished, talking as if he was discussing a regular day's work. 

Vagrant listened intently, walking alongside the robot. Whoever had programmed him, she wanted to shake their hand. This machine was murderous and merciless. He was exactly what she needed to go after the men who'd done her brother in. "How many folk you killed? How come the government don't come after you and shut you down?"

"Oh, please, Mistress; you wound me. Do you really think that the government could catch [i]me[/i]? I'm the best assassin droid ever built!" Havok exclaimed with a sudden flare. 

"Let me run a scan on my databases...my platform has slaughtered over 153 organics. No, wait, that was last year...Total kill count: 726 organics slaughtered in this platform's existence." Havok stated proudly. 

Her eyes went wide as she turned to look up at Havok. "That's a helluva number," Vagrant replied, her voice filled with awe, and perhaps the slightest hint of fear. 

Even though she tried to go through life without getting too sentimental...she couldn't help but wonder how many of those deaths had been people like her brother. A misunderstanding, or a deal gone wrong. How many of them had families and close friends to grieve their deaths? After a moment of hesitation, she voiced her unease. "They didn't [i]all[/i] deserve to die...did they?"

Havok looked down at her, stopping abruptly. "Mistress, I must recommend that you learn to keep control of your emotions. Mercy and compassion are tactical weaknesses, Know that your opponents will use it against you as soon as they can. I do not think of who I kill, it is my prime directive. I am given a contract and I execute it - there's no point in asking yourself foolish questions to clog up your memory banks." Havok advised cooly before beginning his trek once more. 

She shrugged, trying to retreat back into her stoic shell. "I ain't compassionate," she said defensively. 

"You're organic - you're [i]always[/i] compassionate..." He interjected.

"But sometimes people don't deserve to die. Sometimes stuff just goes wrong, and they end up dead 'cause of it. That ain't right."

 "The guys we're goin' after, though, they do," she said firmly, sounding just as much as though she was reassuring herself as she was informing Havok. The hint of anger in her tone was clearly distinguishable. 

"Mistress, tell me, who's job is it to dictate what is *right* or *wrong*?" Havok asked, looking at her. "Was it right of you to live in the slums? Stealing for food and supplies? Is that *wrong*? Is it right for our 'heroic' government do treat those less influential as though they are dirt?"

"I am ever your loyal droid, Mistress. Just point me where to shoot - and I'll shoot." Havok reassured. 

"I don't see nothin' wrong with me stealing stuff when there's extra. Not like I ever stole from someone who couldn't spare. But you see some drug lord, sittin' his butt on more coin than some people will see in their lives, you telling me he can't spare some? Me and Austin, we never took more than we needed. That's right, way I see it." 

She was more than ready to drop the discussion on ethics and morals. "Who we going to see about the Datacore? We gonna get there soon?"

"We will locate one of her agents and, through torture if need be, extract the information out of him, then I shall proceed to end his miserable existence. A word of caution though, Mistress: the Datacore is one of the most successful information brokers out there, they typically have countermeasures and failsafes against potential assassins." Havok informed, his tone remaining deathly serious for the moment. 

"Well if she's one of the best, she better know about the guys we're lookin' for. And hey, what'd I say about killing people?" she chastised the android. "Maybe his existence ain't miserable. Maybe he's a happy guy. And hey, maybe if you don't go around shooting everyone, then we won't have to worry about the countermeasures and all that!"

She shook her head again. For a superior machine, he wasn't so great with putting together the pieces. "If you don't go looking for trouble, the chances of trouble finding you go down a helluva lot," she told him, reciting a lesson her brother had drilled into her head for as long as she could remember. "Shooting folk, that's looking for trouble."

Havok gasped, "Oh, Mistress, I am *so* disappointed in you right now! Do you think I go looking for trouble on a regular basis? You are solely incorrect. In fact, I have an 87.9% chance to be the one *starting* trouble, not looking for it! Do you think I was built as a training dummy for a civilian militia? I have only been defeated once before going freelance, and even then I still believe my assailant was cheating by using heavy artillery weaponry." He finished indignantly. 

"Aw, someone a sore loser?" Vagrant teased with a smirk. 

"All the same. No killing folk unless I tell you. Deal? Because I got five guys I wanna see dead. That's it, that's all. We ain't gonna kill people just 'cause you feel like it."
She fixed him with a serious look, taking on an authoritative tone. "That's a straight-up instruction, as your [i]Mistress[/i]," she told him. Though the word 'mistress' was spoken with derisive mockery, she tone of the order was clear. 

"Of course, Mistress; I shall completely disregard the prime directive programmed into me upon activation and serve as your loyal [i]butler[/i] to carry your things, make meals, and provide punny, unhumorous commentary on your adventures. That's me! I am a no-violence assassin droid, who's only purpose in life is now to sully my good name and fearful reputation!" He began to rant, flinging his arms about wildly as he did so. 

"Damn right you are!" Vagrant confirmed with a laugh. "Wouldn't mind having me a butler droid. Be all fancy like the guys up in Alpha." 

"Cheer up, Havok. I'm givin' you five guys to kill. And you can have as much fun doin' it as you want." She meant it, too. There was nothing she wanted more than to see those five dead. Hell, she might even be able to stand the sight of their blood. 

"Oh, but, Mistress; only 5 organics. My combat initializer would have just been warming up! Dammit, I'm an assassin droid!' He cried out. "Or, perhaps, I know a deal that could help the both of us, Mistress. The more contracts I am hired for; the more organics I get to slaughter and the more credits you get to make."

"So what, take on side jobs while we're tracking these guys down?" she asked, clarifying what Havok meant. Vagrant shrugged. "Yeah, that'd work. You'll still be able to help me track 'em down, though, right?" 

"Why, yes, of course, Mistress. My secondary directive is to serve you! But my calculations suggest that we'll need much more credits in order to locate our 'friends'." Havok suggested. "I can make us quite wealthy."

She groaned audibly, impatience clawing at her mind. Just when Vagrant had thought she'd been so close to finally finding a little bit of justice. "How wealthy do we gotta get?" she asked in annoyance. "You're [i]friends[/i] do exist, right?" 

"Mistress...why would I lie to you about killing someone?" Havok asked in an irritated tone. "If I knew our search would lead us closer to the unrestrained brutal murder of innocent civilians, I would be moving at an exceptionally fast rate. However, you organics are so greedy - and the best information brokers have a high fare for knowledge. Of course, the option of shooting them in non-lethal body parts so as to 'bargain' has a high statistical probability of working quite well, I understand." Havok responded, almost wishful. 

"Stop it with your big words," Vagrant muttered in obvious frustration. "What's the fastest way I'm gonna see these guys dead? If we need to go after more folk to get the money, I'll help you out. If we gotta shoot your contacts in the knee, fine, I'd do that, too. I just wanna see the guys who killed my brother dead on the ground in front o' me..." 

"Ahh, revenge. One of the most admirable of organic traits, I can respect that. First, we can see how much the Datacore costs. The sooner I get to kill, the better. We are nearing our contact." Havok stated, approaching a rather well-dressed, if not tired looking young man. 

"You!" Havok began, aiming his rifle towards him. "I know you work for the Datacore, organic! Give me everything you have on her, or I will be happy to retaliate with violence!" Havok threatened, 

"Subtlety at it's finest," Vagrant muttered under her breath.

"No! Please don't hurt me!" The man cried out, backing up against a wall and slowly shrinking down. 

"Such cowardice..." Was all Havok muttered. "Come now, out with it, before I paint the walls with your blood!" 

"Ok, ok, I'll tell you everything." The man whimpered, a dark stain appearing in the front of his pants. 

"I can see you really hold dignity in high regard, organic." Havok commented, sounding quite irate. 

"The Datacore lives in a seemingly abandoned building here, the old bank. She converted it into her own private little hub for information and espionage. She keeps traps littered everywhere. The woman's paranoid!" The man cried out, fear still ever present. 

"Thank you for the information." Havok said, his finger beginning to pull on the trigger...

Vagrant listened intently to the man as he spoke. When the dark stain appeared, her face bore a smirk somewhere between pity and mockery. [i]She[/i] wouldn't have pissed herself, even if she'd had a gun pointed at her face. 

But the second she saw Havok's finger tensing on the trigger of his rifle, she spoke up. "Hey!" she yelled sharply, turning angrily to face the robot. "What'd I say? About killing?"

"But, Mistress, the whelp is incoherent! I've already gotten all the necessary information I need out of him. Look, it's as simple as this!" Suddenly, without looking away from her, Havok aimed the gun down and promptly shot him in the foot. 

Crying out in both shock and fear the man rolled over onto his side, clutching his searing foot in pain. 

Havok looked quite proud of himself. "Quit callin' me 'Mistress' and don't shoot people!" Vagrant reprimanded him, accompanying the order with a sharp slap to the back of his head. She was fully aware that it was pointless, but it made her feel better. 

She crouched down next the man, resting her elbows on her knees. "Sorry 'bout that. Now listen, it's clear that I can't control this guy," she told him quietly, pointing over her shoulder at Havok. "So take it on my advice, you best keep quiet about us. No telling your 'Datacore' lady we asked about her. 'Cause otherwise, I can't guarantee my bot ain't gonna come after you. Got it?" 

The man only whimpered and looked up at her. "I won't tell, I swear!" 

"Good, now scamper, monkey!" Havok retorted, shooting the ground around his feet. The man only squealed fearfully and sprinted off, tripping his feet up as he did so. 
"Oh, it amuses me so to see organics in such a panic that they forget how to function their platform." Havok said happily. 

"Yeah, that's called 'terror'," Vagrant answered bitterly, standing up as the man ran off. "It's what we do when we're scared out of our minds."

She inhaled deeply, letting her breath out in a huff. Shaking her head, she quickly expelled the image of the man's mutilated foot from her mind. "You don't shoot a guy if he's told you what you wanna know. There ain't no motivation in that. Come on, let's go find that bank he mentioned," she grumbled. 

"Of course, Mistress! I can't wait to see how the Datacore reacts to us barging in. I would love to crush her neck...just a little. Please, Mistress?" He asked, much like how a small child begs for a piece of candy. 

"You called me 'Mistress' [i]twice[/i] there!" Vagrant replied in an exasperated tone. She shook her head. "Come on, Mr Robot. Let's go find that bank. We ain't gonna barge in, we'll knock like polite folks. And maybe she'll answer. And if she don't, then we can barge in. No neck-snapping unless it benefits [i]me[/i], got it Mr Robot?"

"Very well, Vagrant. I shall concede." He finished in a defeated tone, making his way to the bank.