THE FOLLOWING TEXT CONTAINS: BLOOD AND GORE AND FICTIONAL MOBS AND CRIMES. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. (RATING 18+)
DINE ‘N DASH
1. EXT. THE SPOT — NIGHT
The scene opens on a shot of a decrepit old diner. The neon flickers, the colours are a faded teal and pink like bygone times perhaps thousands of cycles ago. Depending on who you talk to and if they even believe in that sort of thing. The theme is old muscle ship. Like cars but these head out into space–for the non-acquainted audience reading this–vintage headlights and front-grilles are used for set-pieces outside. The paint is chipping. It’s seen better days.
CUT TO: INSIDE THE SPOT.
The inside of the diner uses seating from old starships, re-upholstered to fit the vintage theme of the space. There are faded teals, pinks–they may even have been red at some point but time’s faded them… It certainly wasn’t the sun down here–threads are tugged loose by uncaring patrons.
There is a wrap-around bar right in the middle but it extends out into the kitchen, kind of like a keyhole, the benches and seating make just a bit more than a half-circle around it. Even the old kitchenware and sanitation stations are vintage, looking like things folks once called paper napkin dispensers though all you have to do these days is stick your appendage inside the UV light. The glasses are in fun shapes… A couple of them chipped but customers of this establishment know to sip carefully when they’re reminiscing in this nostalgia pit.
It’s dark in here… Because it’s after closing.
Also there’s blood covering just about every inch of this space, in spatters for the most part. If you look closely you might find some viscera, now you might even notice the smell of burnt meat. Perhaps notice scorch marks from possible laser-ized pistols, if you had to guess.
Most notable is the massive pool of blood staining the entryway and the large streak the missing body made when it was hauled back toward the kitchen, through the little swing-door, past the bar, cocktail and order stations… The streak even cuts through the kitchen…
It takes a sharp right into the cold room.
CUT TO: THE FREEZER…
Oh… Yeah there’s a body in there. Human guy, he looks like he might have been pretty friendly before his brains were blown out the back of his skull. Honestly a lot of his face is left up to your interpretation.
Don’t think anyone would find this comfortable. His skin is already starting to purple, his arms probably shouldn’t hold that position too long.
Not that JD would know. They’ve pretended to be human before and got it all wrong so they don’t really think about humans–is it humans? Or humen?–too often. Luckily it won’t matter too much anymore to their boss, Jimmy…Dean (maybe?) Since his blood is congealing on the frozen mystery meats beneath him.
JD is an alien with a complexion most humans would mistake for dead, grey, nearly-translucent. They’re nearly monochrome with their hair a shade or two darker and the even darker grey janitor jumpsuit they scored at a thrift shop five minutes before they took this job three days ago.
It might seem like they’ve done this before, knowing to bring a body to a freezer to keep it from stinking up the joint, but the worry in their orange eyes suggests it’s been a little while since.
They probably have a good five minutes before someone calls security about the disturbance the racket caused when guns were firing seven minutes ago… Maybe an extra ten… No… Definitely twenty before this place is crawling with uniform.
Shit.
JD shuts the fridge and reaches for the bleach two rooms down in the janitor’s closet they were only just getting acquainted with.
CUT TO: THE MESS IN THE MAIN ROOM
JD stares down at the pool of blood while it (probably) stains the linoleum beneath it as it congeals. They sure hope they have enough bleach to take care of this, to be quite frank, JD hasn’t ever cleaned up a crime scene before but they’ve got practice cleaning blood out of clothing… It can’t be too different, right? Either way, their life is literally on the line here.
They’re… technically illegal on ABSALOM. Hitched a ride on a Starfinder starship outbound from EOX without proper paperwork. They’re working on it, really it’s just been a mess of bureaucratic bullshit they don’t always have time to think about.
Wow… this really is just smearing that blood around. JD sits back on their knees, eying the rag in their hand soaked straight through. This isn’t going to do. Desperate measures.
CUT TO: THE BAR–
JD using the hose from the bar to soak the drying blood. They’re seen going back once with a big mop, and forth and that seems to properly get the job done.
Squeezing the blood-drenched rag under a running tap, they get to work scrubbing and scrubbing at the spatters covering the rest of the diner.
When they’re finished, JD stands back, admiring their work. Honestly, save for the couple burn marks and bullet holes in the glass you almost couldn’t tell there was a shootout here at the start of their shift, leaving them with an accusatory mess.
Outside the diner, flashing lights round the corner.
JD freezes, and well, looking at them, that blood all over their new-old jumpsuit is also quite accusatory.
JD rounds the corner into the staff room, rummaging through unlocked lockers and pulls out a use-able uniform. They scramble quickly to get it on, hopping into it as their skin comes apart in ribbons.
JD’s eyes widen, startling at the sound… A knocking but it sounds like:
SFX: BANG BANG BANG.
A non-grey hand opens the freezer.
SFX: CRACK
They pull JIMMY DEAN’s hand out of the way, and takes his name tag before affixing it to their own uniform.
In a mirror, JD… Who doesn’t look like JD but, instead, JIMMY DEAN, the ex-owner of THE SPOT (now mystery meat in the freezer) albeit a little bit grey in the face, stares at themself and frowns.
Maybe the lighting in this place will deem them passable enough. They sure hope.
SFX: BANG BANG BANG.
STEWARD
Is anyone here? We got a call for a disturbance at this address, for concerning fire.
JD starts out through the main room, adjusting their posture from their usual slouch to a livelier jaunt… And then something a little bit less livelier… Since it’s about 3AM just now.
They also modulate their voice on the way, adjusting it to match what you can only assume is the original JIMMY DEAN.
JD
(quiet)
Hello officer… Evenin’ Sir, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah–Yes.
Got it. They unlock the door and open it up to the STEWARD who startles.
JD
Officer… Seems pretty late to come knockin’ I was just on my way out.
STEWARD
Yes. Mighty late to be getting concerned calls.
JD
(surprised)
Concerned calls? For the Spot? We’ve been closed nearly an hour already.
The STEWARD relaxes, only marginally, but JD takes that as a win, maybe this one will leave before deciding to–
STEWARD
Mhm. People said they heard unfriendly fire. Perhaps of the concerning variety. You wouldn’t mind me taking a quick look, just to put their minds at ease?
Curses. JD balks for a second too long.
STEWARD
Is that a problem?
JD
No–‘course not. Bit of a mess, all the same.
They step aside, holding the door open as the STEWARD graces the entrance to THE SPOT, now smelling clean and fresh as a daisy and hopefully not too alarmingly like bleach and harsh blood-cleaning chemicals.
JD
If it smells weird in here we, uh, put the ovens on a proper clean every Seconday. Chemicals and grease.
STEWARD wrinkles his nose.
STEWARD
No kidding.
JD
‘Fraid not. Figure we do it overnight once customers are gone.
JD watches him like a hawk as the STEWARD wanders. Toe-ing the line between hovering and being helpful. The STEWARD, tired enough, looks–but lazily.
STEWARD
Mhm. What about that window of yours.
The only thing, JD couldn’t fix is glaring at them, the cracked glass and perfectly shaped bullet-type hole in the middle of the mess corroborating with the stories of the complaining witnesses.
JD leans against the counter and shrugs.
JD
Well, you know ‘well as I that down here folks are always lookin’ for a fight. We were just in the crossfire, week or two back. Haven’t had a chance to fix her up yet.
The STEWARD looks to JD, deliberating, but their quick thinking covers their ass just well enough.
They are also sincerely glad this STEWARD is not friendly with the ex-JIMMY DEAN. They honestly hadn’t spoken to the guy more than two words since they started here.
A fleeting thought catches them off guard, they suppose their MA TANTE might be proud for a half-moment they picked up something useful from her.
Ugh.
As the STEWARD takes their wandering over towards the end of the key-hole bar where the doors to the kitchen lead toward… The freezer… The dead JIMMY in the fridge… JD pipes in, hoping it doesn’t come off too desperate.
JD
If it’s all the same to you, officer. I’d like to be home in time to sleep before my next shift… So… If there’s nothing I can tell ya more… Ehh.
The STEWARD stops at the door, looks to JD. He steps back and, he sighs.
STEWARD
Mm. You’ve been candid enough, Mister…
JD
Dean.
STEWARD
Dean. I think this’ll … Satiate any concern.
JD
Happy to help.
They follow the STEWARD as he makes his way back to the front door. He stops for a second just before stepping out, eying that window.
JD sweats.
STEWARD
Those things are a bitch to replace. Sorry about that.
JD
Don’t even worry about it. Fixed by the end of the week.
STEWARD snorts, amused by the banter of this false-JIMMY and takes his leave.
JD watches the ship pull back and out of the lot before they sigh, relieved.
But… Now’s when the real work begins… Where the fuck are they gonna get rid of that body?
Turns out the, um, actual logic about that isn’t too difficult. JD keeps the JIMMY look for a little longer as they tug his block-solid corpse from the fridge…
It’s just as graceful as it sounds. JD’s forgone the whole physical working out elements of being a shape-shifter if there are any. They try not to think of muscle groups too often the way most other species might think about them because they might as well be a glorified pile of ribbons seamlessly shaped together to look like whoever they want to look like.
CUT TO: THE DUMPSTER BEHIND THE SPOT
Well… Dear old JIMMY only looks marginally more comfortable here in the dumpster with slimes and oozes chipping away at rotting food. He… Won’t smell great in a little while, but with JD’s luck–and because they checked the schedule for trash pickup just before hauling him out here–they’ll pick him up in about an hour.
By open he’ll be late. By afternoon folks will get curious and in a couple days they’ll probably see dear old JIMMY on milk cartons… Whatever those are.
Anyway, so much for the three day gig. JD sighs and heads home to never set foot into THE SPOT again as long as they’re on ABSALOM.
Well… Give it a couple months anyway. They’ve gotten good at blending into the background.
2. INT. THE RAIL — EARLY MORNING
It’s still dark out and there aren’t many people on the trains this morning, luckily. JD un-clips the JIMMY name tag and sighs, because they forgot to toss it back in the dumpster with him. They shove it in their pocket and check their personal comm. There’s well… Nothing on here. It’s new, still, and they haven’t met anyone because they aren’t really sure how to…Be friendly.
JD doesn’t look like JIMMY anymore, actually they’ve shape shifted again, before this, into a spindly little vesk alien. They don’t look like anything else on this train because they’re so spindly about it. They keep the faded greys of their usual tone, nearly blending into the grey seats of the train.
JD sits back and peers out the windows watching patterns in the CONDUIT’s scenery go by. They catch themself feeling homesick but not really. There wasn’t much about EOX they loved just…
Well anyway. This is their stop.
They get off.
CUT: JD walks home from the train station.
CUT: It’s a shitty little place, a too-small building mushed between too-big buildings.
CUT: JD jimmies–heh too soon probably–the lock and gets inside. They haven’t quite found the trick to this door just yet, if there even is one.
CUT TO: INSIDE JD’S APARTMENT
It’s… Pathetic in here. Even they feel it. There’s one too small window that points directly at a thick wall of piping, a mattress and a suitcase they still haven’t unpacked properly. There’s a kitchenette with a cooktop with only one working burner, cupboards that hold a single cup, plate and utensil.
The only other door in here leads to a bathroom where the toilet might as well just be in the shower with a sink to its side, but luckily isn’t.
JD looks at the place and sighs. They hate it here. Not that they have a choice in it. They shut the door behind them and start their routine.
They take a second to shape-shift, body coming apart in ribbons…
And they look the same as we first met them tonight, base endiffian as they tiredly heat up some bland noodles in a pack.
Pause.
They take the pack of noodles out of the hot water… Actually open the pack this time and put those in the boiling water to cook.
They sit on their bed, eating while they scroll the internet absentmindedly.
They brush their teeth after changing into a big shirt and baggy pants.
In bed, they follow along brushing up on their common–language–on their phone, skipping all the verbals and acing all the listening tests.
As the sun–a series of lights acting on account of the sun that beams into the dome of ABSALOM’s EYE–barely sticks its fingers in the window facing the thick wall of piping outside, JD stares at the ceiling.
Takes a deep breath… And shuts their eyes, exhaling a long drawn sigh.
3. INT. JD’S APARTMENT — LATE AFTERNOON
It’s a false version the golden hour in here, the lamp overhead in this room is programmed to fake daylight because it sure isn’t coming in proper through that window facing the thick wall of piping. Not that much of the fake daylight on ABSALOM reaches this far down the SPIKE anyway. They tried to figure out the setting on the wall dial and found it was busted so it’s just been blasting them with fake-daylight while they try to sleep. Awful.
Anyway, the yellow light is dimly cast throughout the space… Not making it look much better than the night before.
JD is still in bed–a glorified mattress on the floor with a single sheet covering them–on their side. They facing away from the window out of principle even though the light in the middle of the room is the culprit and scroll through the galactic web looking for any inclination that their little stunt at THE SPOT has been found out yet.
Not that they ever figured they wouldn’t get out of it Scott Free.
They look miserable. Probably because their boss was killed before they even managed to get paid. Somehow they doubt payroll is gonna remember they have a shifty 3 A.M. Janitor the boss hired last minute and promised to pay under the table.
They shut their eyes and pretend to drift… And maybe do manage to snooze for a minute or two before yelling upstairs startles them awake again.
Great. Time for a balanced breakfast.
CUT: JD eating stale, dry… Something-like-cereal in bed while they do more language learning between bites. Still no voice, acing listening tests.
The neighbours upstairs continue to scream and shout.
CUT: JD shivers through a cold shower, scrubbing whatever blood off that’s still left on them from the night before.
CUT: JD drying off and… Well the neighbours are still yelling.
CUT: JD is pulling out another thrifted jumpsuit while the neighbours continue to yell. They sigh, roll their eyes and finally decide to leave the fucking apartment.
They grab their phone, smokes and JIMMY DEAN’s… Or, well… THE SPOT uniform they wore home and head out.
4. EXT. THE CONDUIT’S STREETS (AKA PIPETOWN) — EVENING
JD, having shape-shifted into a much more gnoll-ish form–that’s a hyena for those not in the know–tosses the uniform into a trash bin several blocks away from their shitty little building. They start down the streets of PIPETOWN like they’re on some sort of mission.
There’s a bulletin somewhere in these winding conduits beneath ABSALOM’s crust. They’re still getting used to the place, admittedly. It’s seedy enough down here you have to be careful who you look at and how you look at them. Which is why JD doesn’t really try to look at anyone. Easy enough, it was a lot of the same back home, anyway.
JD is really good at being careful and looking the other way.
Tonight, though… JD can’t help but worry they’re being followed. It’s a feeling that’s haunted them since they left the house. They almost had half a mind to head back in and regretfully listen to the argument upstairs but then worried they might just encourage whoever was following them to follow them home… And revealing the apartment of the guy who cleaned the crime-scene at THE SPOT.
But they’re probably just being paranoid. They certainly can help feeling cagey after cleaning up a crime scene when they were sent here to lay low. They were maybe high-hoping that cleaning up blood and tossing a dead manager in the trash would go off unnoticed.
It’s not like this type of scenario is entirely new to them… But they’re generally not fond of being perceived in any way. This feeling permeates, digging in so deep they want to use their newfound claws as a gnoll to dig it out of them.
Relax.
They look up at a bulletin board… It’s a job board. Some folks still like to do it the old fashioned way. One could find seedier jobs here if one, perhaps didn’t want to be put on a payroll until they had enough money to pay for identification… Or at least fake identification until they could get proper identification.
A lot of this stuff is so vague, though, it’s hard to really parse what’s being asked. And while they’re pretty desperate, they’re not really in the market to get into illegal shit again.
They’re definitely only referring to the stunt at the old diner.
Someone sidles up next to them, peering up at the board. A human, as far as JD can tell out of their peripheral. A little shorter, definitely bigger than them, even in their gnoll form.
?
Anything good up here?
JD doesn’t jump–because they know better–but their insides twist into knots. They almost elect to keep quiet, forgetting they now look like a gnoll, and hearing isn’t a problem for gnolls like it might be for anyone else.
Besides, sometimes the best way to blend into the background is being forgettable in the only way possible.
Being amicable.
JD
(indifferent)
Dunno… What’re you looking for?
The human beside them stretches, putting their arms behind their head.
?
Hmm… A good cleaning job maybe.
Ah. The follower. JD makes the mistake of flicking a glance the human’s way and accidentally catching their eye. They turn their attention back to the bulletin, strobing text glitching in different languages.
JD
Well that’s… specific…
?
Mhmm. Know anything about fixing?
JD
Nope.
They answer quickly… Probably too quickly. It’s fine. They just have to disengage here. Find someplace public. Surface for a bit. They wrack their memory for the nearest elevator up to DOWNLOW… Or the SPARKS, even.
JD
I can’t say I do.
They spot a little flicker in the screen and gesture.
JD
Looks like this might be a good bet. Um. Good luck.
They offer a friendly wave and get to steppin’, quick but not fast. They get down the block and turn the corner, looking over their shoulder only to bump into someone while they aren’t paying attention.
???
Hey watch it!
She’s a much smaller gnoll. Spunky hair, expensive clothes… They don’t stick around to find out her name–
JD
Sorry–sorry!
They dart through the conduit and make a quick left into a darker alcove. They might be able to buy themself some time changing their shape, their body starts to come apart in ribbons. Come on, come on. It’s not ideal rushing a shape-shift but maybe they can be a sickly undead human for a hot second before they make for the elevators… Or somewhere more public–
Behind them a set of arms emerges from the shadows and grabs them, wrapping around their midsection in the middle of their shift–which feels absolutely fucking weird and awful especially without their permission. Their ribbons snap back into their gnoll-form. But some pieces stay loose in the arms of their captor as they struggle to pull free from the much bigger vesk’s grasp.
??
So that’s how you snuck off last night. I thought Foxtrot was being ridiculous talking nonsense about a shapeshifter working the Spot–but you’re no Reptoid.
Uh… Rude. Of course they’re not a Reptoid.
JD sure is in a bit of a pickle. That mid-shift means they’ve spent a lot of energy here with little payoff. There’s probably only one thing that can save them and they absolutely hate using it but… Desperate times.
They force their shifting a bit harder, ribbons slipping through the vesk’s grip. It’s sloppy, and now they’re forced to shift back into the gnoll they were before because that’s closer to solid than the undead human look they were trying to change into. The snap back to the previous form smarts though, and staggers them with a dizzy spell they have to manage around.
JD scrambles quickly for the exit but the human’s caught up by the time they’ve managed to both dodge the vesk’s grip and shake off the dizziness.
We can, pretty safely assume this human is the FOXTROT the vesk mentioned earlier.
FOXTROT
Camaan. Leaving so quick? But we were just getting acquainted.
The human grabs the front of their jumpsuit with an incredible grip and shoves them against the nearest wall. JD grabs at their wrist and tries to use it as leverage to pull their legs up and kick into FOXTROT’s mid-drift–except FOXTROT closes the gap between them before they can manage the manoeuvre.
JD
H-hey… I don’t know anything about a spot alright–I don’t really even have any credits on me or anything, whatever you want just take it.
VESK
Relax, kid. This isn’t a mugging.
FOXTROT
Nah, this is just a uhm… Scout. Yeah. Our boss kinda likes the work you did at the ol’ Spot and uh, how you sure fixed it real nice-like. Wants to talk to you and asked us to deliver the invitation, so to speak.
JD glances between the two, warily and hates that the first thing that comes to mind as a response is a wise-guy reply that shouldn’t have slipped their lips.
JD
(grumbles)
This… Is one wild invitation.
The two of them snicker.
FOXTROT
Ey, get a load of this funny guy.
VESK
Yeah, maybe keep the cracks to a minimum. Boss is… Particular.
JD
Well, you know this has been nice. But I think, if it’s all the same to you both, I’ll pass.
FOXTROT snickers this time and it feels less like they’re snickering with JD and more like they’re snickering at JD which really doesn’t feel great.
FOXTROT
That’s real funny. Real cute. But ah–The boss doesn’t really take no for an answer. It’s okay. You’re new. But maybe consider it a bit more while we’re heading over there.
FOXTROT’s amusement coils into a dangerous grin as they glance over to the VESK.
FOXTROT
Hey Tango. You wanna do the thing?
TANGO
On it.
And TANGO pulls out some piece of cloth that sure looks like it’s meant to be a blindfold and JD can feel this pit in their stomach that’s been building up all this time, absolutely sink down to their toes.
JD
C-c’mon… Is this really necessary–I’m just a samaritan who did you all a good turn, I don’t even want anything for it–
JD shrinks down, scrambling much more in FOXTROT’s obscenely strong grip as TANGO approaches, until that cloth is placed over, and around their gnoll snout.
The thing is… JD stares into them both. Not breathing.
FOXTROT
Okay… Well you’re supposed to pass out, kid.
Yeah that’s what they figured, some sort of knock-out rag, covered in an inhalable drug. But JD grew up on a planet with an atmosphere not acclimated for shit to actually live on. And they sure as hell were given a black lung before they could even walk or talk.
JD eyes them, unsure what the protocol is now. TANGO just sighs and instead ties a knot using the two ends of the rag to keep their trap shut.
FOXTROT
Well… What do we do now?
TANGO pulls out an actual blindfold and affixes it to JD’s eyes while FOXTROT keeps them pinned. TANGO makes sure that things real snug while JD squirms.
FOXTROT
And… the whole kicking and screaming shit?
TANGO
Well, kid knows well enough if they scream they gotta inhale which would knock ‘em clean out. And the kicking? Foxy. It’s like y’don’t even know me.
FOXTROT is shown something and they snicker. JD figures out what it is a moment later when their arms and legs are held fast and bound into zip-ties.
FOXTROT
Right.
TANGO
Now c’mon. We gotta get the hell outta here… Wasted enough time as it is.
JD is handed to TANGO–they assume–and well, unfortunately TANGO is right, they’re pretty much foiled here. Unable to call for help or put up much of a fight unless they want to scramble along the ground like an inchworm. Aside from that being an absolutely embarrassing moment, it’s also just… Useless. They wouldn’t get too far before they’d face their untimely death.
No, instead JD tries to remember what turns are taken, what sounds are heard. Anything they can manage to glean as they’re being hauled away.
These two know their way well enough around the backstreets of PIPETOWN because nobody asks about a large vesk carrying a gnoll at any point in their travels.
JD just thinks of their terrible little shit-hole of an apartment and, miserably, wishes they had just laid low and listened to the screaming neighbours upstairs.
Ah well… You live and you learn. Unless you don’t… Wind Up Living…
5. INT. ??? — UNKNOWN T.O.D.
It’s probably only a half hour of walking but it sure feels like hours and hours go by. JD’s brain is circling the drain the longer this endless meandering goes. Made only marginally better when FOXTROT pulls their blindfold off and they get to see that they’ve been brought to some sort of abandoned office building, who knows where now.
FOXTROT
Relax, kid. You don’t got nothing to be afraid of. You’ve done us a good turn. I’m even giving you a tour of the place while Tango does all the carrying.
They sure don’t take JD’s muzzle off to let them reply but JD’s certain their mildly terrified glare gets the point across. FOXTROT gives them a little pat on the cheek and starts pointing out different rooms as TANGO walks them through the halls. Admittedly, every room looks the same in this once-office type space.
FOXTROT
This here is where some of us guys like to hang out when we’re laying low. That’ll be you probably, even.
TANGO
We don’t really do much in this place, it’s kind of the meet spot for recruits.
FOXTROT
And over there’s the bathroom, mostly functional. Ya gotta jimmy the handle on the one at the end a lil bit. Gets stuck sometimes.
TANGO
Ugh, yeah the jimmy. All the recruits forget and y’always gotta get one to clean up the mess.
Oh, JIMMY… Feels like days since THE SPOT even if it’s only been just under 24 hours.
FOXTROT
Yup. And this here’s the elevator that goes up to the proper meet’n’greet.
JD continues to wish they had never gotten out of bed this morning, even more-so when the musak starts playing in the elevator, light flickering just enough to add to their nerves being absolutely wracked.
TANGO
Your heart’s beating like crazy, kid. You really ought to calm down.
FOXTROT
Yeah, like I said, you’re on Boss’ good side. From the get-go. That’s a great spot to be in.
JD just stares at the scraped etchings of curse words in the elevator’s metal walls, and can’t help but agree with the sentiment. Not exactly feeling too great about the spot that they’re in.
And then..
SFX: DING!
They’ve arrived and JD is barely holding themself together.
Their two captives take them into a large room, office space that overlooks a good chunk of the city below, PIPETOWN… At least JD is mostly sure they haven’t gone up any levels. But they’re not too versed in any of the back alleys of ABSALOM STATION yet so, fuck if they could even be sure.
JD is plopped into the seat in front of the single large desk in here. Nobody else is here, yet, thank gods. Maybe they still have a shot of getting the fuck out of here.
TANGO makes the sloppy move of untying their feet first, saying something to them that JD isn’t listening to. They adjust their feet, readied. They have only one shot at this, to get out of here. They wait for TANGO to snip the zip-ties around their wrist, saying something that sounds very far away under the rush of their adrenaline.
With as much force as they can muster, they kick both their feet into the vesk’s chest. TANGO barely budges but the seat JD was plopped into goes back five feet. It’s enough for them to scramble to their feet and run. They yank the cloth bundling their snout–and find that TANGO did an absurdly good job tying it.
Fuck it, they’ll pull it off later. Instead they focus on booking it to the only door that’s there. Happy to find out that they’re much faster than the other two.
And then the door swings open and they slam right into someone. It knocks them off their feet and onto their ass. They look up and their position makes a much bigger gnoll look like they could put TANGO’s sheer size to shame.
FOXTROT–faster than TANGO– rushes to pin JD down. They squirm and fight but stop when the door clicks shut behind the new gnoll.
?
Ladies. What… Are you doing.
The voice is gruff from the newest person in the room, curt and serious.
TANGO
(gasping)
Whh-we were jusst… Getting the lil Spot– the guy… The Spotter.
FOXTROT
Yeah this is the guy who fixed up the Spot.
JD still can’t get a proper look at this newcomer, because of FOXTROT’s pin. They have a sharp sinking feeling that this is that Boss of their’s that was so keen on meeting JD. Escape plan, completely borked.
THE BOSS?
On the floor…
FOXTROT
Well… Y’see they’re a bit squirrelly, Boss. Bit Freaked on account of we didn’t explain anything.
THE BOSS
Get up. They’re a visitor. Not a captive.
FOXTROT hesitates but then is quickly on her feet and forcefully helping JD back up to their’s.
THE BOSS
Wait downstairs. Both of you.
Both TANGO and FOXTROT hesitate, but seemingly know better than to question their boss. They step out of the room and JD watches them go. The large mysterious gnoll clicks the door shut behind her again before she turns to JD who is still muzzled and unsure whether to take it off or not.
The boss steps forward and–they hate it but–they flinch when she takes their face. The touch is more gentle than JD might have expected as their muzzle is freed from its tangle in that cloth.
Though they’re able to now, JD isn’t so sure they remember how to breathe. She turns them around with a firm grip on their shoulder.
THE BOSS
Let’s talk.
The larger gnoll lets go of JD and takes the seat JD was in before and places it in front of the desk.
And then the boss sits behind the desk… And she gestures to the chair.
JD glances between the gnoll’s hand and the chair, using the back of it to stabilise themself.
JD
(hesitant)
I… think there’s been a misunderstanding…
THE BOSS
So you’re not the shifter who wiped the Spot down spotless?
This… Admittedly feels like a trick question. JD hesitates a little bit too long, making the gnoll speak again.
THE BOSS
Look, you’re here now, are you not? Sit. Listen. I have a few questions for you.
JD isn’t sure they’re going to be asked to sit so politely a third time so they nervously sit in the seat provided, straight-backed, they watch this gnoll.
THE BOSS
Let’s start simple. What do people call you?
JD
Nobody calls me anything.
THE BOSS
Mmm. A smart ass. We have enough of those around here. What do I call you, kid?
JD relents, surprised by her amusement.
JD
Uh. JD. I don’t like giving more than that, if it’s all the same to you. It’d be nice to have a name to the face, here. Other than Boss.
JD isn’t sure where this small spurt of bravado is coming from, perhaps the fall of their adrenaline rush from before. Whatever the case, they’re glad this gnoll takes it well.
THE BOSS
Izola. Some of these kids call me Iz, the scared ones call me boss.
JD wracks their brain for any information about any IZOLA they might have heard about in their corners of the dark sphere but honestly, everything is escaping them right now.
IZOLA leans back in her seat, looking them over as JD steels themself a little more.
IZOLA
Why did you clean it up?
The bluntness of the question throws JD off.
JD
Uh… The Spot?
IZOLA
Yes. My guys heard a steward came by. Poked around. Said he left without any suspicion. So you cleaned it up. As far as I know, you cleaned it enough nobody’s even suspicious Jimmy is gone.
They hesitate, picking at the seat and shrug.
JD
Came in to work and things were a mess and I was the only one there to witness. Figured they’d pin the whole thing on me.
IZOLA
Sure. Could have also just told them you showed up to the mess.
JD
Look. I just got off the ship like three months ago–
IZOLA
So it’s paperwork.
JD droops in their seat and sighs.
JD
Paperwork, sure. That whole mess cost me the one job in those months that would pay me untethered credits.
IZOLA watches them and her look is difficult to read, calculated.
IZOLA
I’ve got work for you.
JD
I’m not getting roped into illegal shi–stuff again.
IZOLA looks intrigued that time and JD grits their teeth, caught.
JD
I mean–just–illegal stuff. Period.
IZOLA
Pays well. You can be out of Pipetown in three weeks flat, if this is what you like.
JD holds her gaze, thinking of their apartment, thinking of the full days of loud, screaming. They shift in their seat looking away.
They left all this shit back on EOX… They can’t just fall right back into it here on ABSALOM.
IZOLA
We will keep you out of trouble. The group is tight-knit. We have been looking for someone like you we can trust.
JD
You don’t even know me.
IZOLA
I know Absalom can be terrifying place, Pipetown even more so when you don’t have anyone watching your back.
JD grows quiet, mulling it over. They know they can take care of themself but their mind keeps being drawn to FOXTROT saying how her boss wouldn’t be keen on taking no for an answer.
They really can’t afford to be making enemies.
IZOLA
Look, kid. We will get your paperwork sorted… Get you in a nice clean place. Keep you out of trouble.
JD
What’s the catch?
IZOLA
Well… Jimmy was one of ours, JD. You spared our competitor getting caught with blood on their hands. You’re lucky you did such a great job on that clean-up.
JD
You want me to fix, then.
IZOLA holds their gaze.
IZOLA
Here and there, yes. Put some of that shifting of yours to use in a pinch.
JD swallows hard, word sure got around down here fast. The scope of their willpower is diminishing with each offer from IZOLA. A life of crime aside… This is too good to refuse.
IZOLA
Well? What do you think?
JD takes a deep breath and looks at her, hesitating, deliberating.
And before they can overthink it, JD holds out a hand for her to shake.
IZOLA’s serious look curls into a subtle little grin. She takes their hand and gives it a shake.
IZOLA
Welcome to the Biteclaw family, JD.
6. INT. JD’S APARTMENT — NIGHT
It’s dark in here just before JD jimmies the handle and shoves inside. Whatever the argument was about upstairs has now been sorted through enough it’s quiet save for the sound of their keys hitting the counter and the door shutting behind them. They look exhausted, hair a mess from the whole runaround they got from FOXTROT and TANGO before they thing to straighten it out.
They lean against the counter eying a new, shinier comm unit they were given by IZOLA before they left. It’s got a couple numbers in here. They don’t know most of them, emergency contacts. Apparently this thing will even self-destruct if it lands in the wrong hands… Well… It’ll just delete its own directory. Not actually blow up…
At least they think so anyway.
JD looks around at their place, IZOLA said three weeks they’d be out of this hole. At least if they take her at her word. They’d like to say they’d miss it but honestly if they never had to set foot in a place like this ever again it’d be too soon.
They set the phone aside for now and step into the bathroom. They opt to avoid the freezing shower this time and decide to scrub as much of the muck and grime off themself as possible with a cloth and a brush. They put some sort of product in their hair, brush their teeth.
Slipping into bed, JD shuts their eyes and lets out a long sigh.
SFX: ZZT ZZT.
A glow illuminates their face just before they turn their attention over. They pull their old comm out from its half-hiding spot by their pillow and peer at the new message.
They frown.
There’s only one person who reaches out to them at this number.
Because they’re in a marginally better mood–knowing they’re about to be paid for work in the next little while–JD checks the message from M.
[I hope you are doing ok… Please let me know you’re safe. When you can. xoxo M]
JD is nonplussed. They scroll a little and it seems like a few more messages have been sent earlier that they’ve never answered. Their eyes harden before they shut the phone off and toss it aside, rolling over to sleep.
On the counter their other phone lights up and the bit of text legible in the notification says: [New Gig, meet me in an hour at] before it’s cut off.