Hearing the other coming wasn't the issue the hunter faced, rather the fact someone [i]else[/i] wanted a go at him. The formerly formidable Golemeth was essentially a bag of meat and protruding metal skeleton and sockets. Just how many wanted to tango with him, especially after he was slammed just short of the pearly gates? As far as anyone would be regularly concerned, for all intents and purposes now, Golemeth was dead. Unless someone got him back to remotely function, he was a giant cyborg paperweight, which was part of his issue in this very moment. It wasn't that Theron couldn't shoulder him and keep the plasteel shelled hand cannon hefted, no, that was the easy part. Maneuvering was the hard part and he felt it, now more than ever when the barrel casually panned across Tracy. The finger beside the trigger minded its business, because Theron wasn't the type of solo to blast some sketchy scrounger off the cuff. He had standards, standards enough to humor whatever was about to happen next.

"Oh really?" His voice piqued with interest as he stood a bit more upright in posture, balancing a foot back and keeping the gas operated, semi-automatic, long ranged hole puncher at about gut level and pointed out, "Well, unless you happen to work for a big name corp, that isn't likely."

There wasn't any effort to hide the weapon or even try and it was all a display that Theron wasn't likely to let another vulture peck at the kill and risk ruining his odds at a better reward. However, with the air still tinged by the lingering gun smoke and faintness of burnt flesh, not to mention the iron richness of drying blood, he cringed a bit in reaction, swallowing after. The subtle dryness of mouth faded and he continued on, slowly walking backward with another step.

"Start off with being chatty, maybe convince me." The chimeric amalgam looked down each alley as he kept slow walking, "Anything odd, we cut the conversation short."

It was only then his digit slunk from the polymer frame on down to the finger guard, the telltale "don't move" gesture. The weapon still had plenty in its magazine, one of the benefits of caseless shells, but Theron would be damned if he was not about to make it clear this was his quarry. Whoever this guy was, bag especially included, was far from chromed out, and that made Theron more nervous. Scavs didn't bother all too much any fight it looked like they couldn't handle, so either this guy was supremely confident that the other fairly human looking figure, betrayed only by subtle qualities or the more obvious external baggage, or he wasn't surface level. All that meant in the end was being careful, a [i]lot[/i] more careful.

The positive was that they were both effectively alone now and the closer the march got to the access hub at a terminal, the less time he needed to spend in the Combat Zone. Nothing came free or easy before, this certainly was not about to be either. In fact, the last it had gone so well was before everything fell apart and the offers of it being "worth the while" contrasted fairly harshly with the fresh memories of being offered biotech that wasn't cheap. Not to mention that bit about how rare it was for solos to get contracts tailored to them, but Theron knew one thing; this was all wrong from the start. So another interruption, another offer? This might almost become a recurring trend.

[@Terminal]