THE FOLLOWING TEXT CONTAINS: SWEARING, CRIMES, VIOLENCE, READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED (18+)
STRANGER
72. EXT. BARKFANG HQ — MIDDAY
What was EMILIO thinking? JD isn’t sure he was thinking much at all coming up with this plan. JD’s supposed to waltz right into BARKFANG HQ in broad daylight and nick a file from BOZ BARKFANG (rest in shit)’s desk, get out and hand it over to EMILIO who will pass it to the STEWARDS as an anonymous tip.
EMILIO [VO]
It’s real simple, just go in, get the paperwork, get out.
Sure. Real simple.
JD touches the medical mask covering the scars on their face as they look up at the sad gaudiness of a hotel looming over them. Behind its scuffed gold veneer are secrets JD is only too aware of, now. Implicated. They sure can’t back out of this. EMILIO’s pretty desperate if he’s looking for their help, but JD’s sure as shit he’s not desperate enough to let them off the hook without an attempt.
With or without sixty-thousand credits on the line, JD’s stuck, once again, between a rock and a hard place.
They’re getting pretty tired of it, honestly. They daydream a for a moment what it’ll be like to book a room in some hotel far far away from here and um… Maybe sleep for a week. JD’s not sure what they’d do, they didn’t really think that far ahead. They just know they’re tired and, pretty sure life’s not about to give them an easy time.
It certainly hasn’t this far.
Who the fuck puts a hotel in PIPETOWN? JD wonders miserably as they tuck themself in a corner nearby to shape-shift–the first time in a while. It’s rusty. A human they’ve finally perfected–minus the wonderful gift they were given by this fuckin’ family right across their face–they’ve finally gotten the hue of the skin just right. Looks like they could actually have warm human blood in their system. They crop their hair short and pick a height to match. They adjust their jumpsuit which fits a little weird since they made alterations to it.
Just the thought of that phase of the plan is forcing them to swallow a lump forming in their throat. Worry about that when they get to it.
They stall, even after the shift, looking up at HQ and trying not to psych themself out. They could really go for a smoke right about now but they spent the last three days showering with a whole new set of products trying to wash out any smell of smoke and fast food grease. They’re not sure how much it’s worked or if both smells are pretty much baked into the fibres of their being the same way their face has produced dark circles under their eyes they can’t even shake with a shift.
Or the paranoia that keeps spiking, sharper and sharper with each pedestrian glance their way. Its like PIPETOWN knows they have history here and it’s only a matter of time before someone narcs on them to BITECLAW or BARKFANG itself.
They’re really craving that smoke to settle their nerves right now. They take a deep breath and push themself out of their frozen wariness, making their way over towards the back of the building. There has to be an employee entrance somewhere–oh.
There we go.
JD approaches it, tries the handle but it’s locked, there’s a keypad. They should have figured. They lean against the wall, waiting it out casually. Someone’s got to leave eventually.
They can feel a shake in their hands and try to reassure themself that this is just recon. They’ve done it plenty of times before. Granted, they weren’t stepping into the lion’s den any of those other times–they exhale slowly, like they’re pushing out a stream of smoke. They imagine the leaf hitting just right and smoothing them out.
Sixty-thousand credits and they aren’t about to muck that up. Sixty-thousand and they’re off this station for good, they’ll make sure of it. Sixty-thousand and they get to see FRANKIE bite the big one the way her pops should have while he was still breathing.
Admittedly, it’ll be nice to see her take a fall she’s never had to in her life. They’d be lying if that wasn’t a quiet perk. Not that they’d ever admit it. Least of all to EMILIO.
Minutes tick by feeling like hours. Does nobody take a smoke break in this place?
JD waits, leg bouncing until they stop it. Surely EMILIO could have found anyone else better suited for this job–
–The door opens and JD pushes themself off the wall.
JD
Hey hold the door–
They call as a HUMAN in a uniform emerges. At JD’s call they hold the door, surprised.
HUMAN
Hey this ain’t the pedestrian entrance.
JD
I’m just here on contract for maintenance. Front desk told me to go around back.
HUMAN
Mm. Weird.
JD
You’re telling me.
The HUMAN doesn’t stop them, holding the door until JD takes it from them. Normally they’d close up the scene with this guy, ask them if they’ll be okay back here–but JD’s focus turns laser sharp, focusing on the task at hand. The sooner they can get out, the sooner EMILIO can put sixty-thousand credits into their hand.
73.INT. INSIDE BARKFANG HQ — CONT’D
It’s back-room busy in here. JD keeps out of everyone’s way and makes it through kitchen and waitstaff. They adjust the belt on their hips to any questions directed at what the hell they’re doing back here before being irritably waved off. They prefer it this way, glad they can maintain the anonymity, for now. It’ll get more complicated once they’re out of the busy areas.
JD takes a few lefts and rights and flights before they’re in the quieter hallways of the hotel. Not quite the rooms to stay in, still liminal hallways behind the façade where the real work happens. Their maintenance get up will only get them to about a floor away from BOZ’s office.
EMILIO said there was a bathroom around here. Quiet. Hardly anyone uses the dang thing because its so out of the way. Most of these areas had ceilings pocked with holes, cameras and security keeping tabs on people in the space. When JD locates the bathroom in question they noticed it’s a good hallway’s breadth from the last camera they clocked.
JD slips inside the bathroom and clicks the door behind them.
CUT TO: INSIDE THE BATHROOM
JD takes a deep breath and sighs. Here’s where the real work begins. They’ve been pushing the though aside this whole time but now they’re going to have to face it.
JD hesitates, glances at the stalls and decides to change their outfit first.
CUT TO: JD’S REFLECTION IN THE BATHROOM MIRROR
They’re wearing a pinstriped suit now–they made one of their jumpsuits reversible and it passes decently–their tool belt is on the counter. They stare into themself in the mirror hesitating. They take a deep breath, shut their eyes and make the shift, calling her face into their mind even if it twists the knife in their heart.
When they open their eyes again, JD is staring into their most immaculate rendition of FRANKIE’s face…barring the three strikes across their muzzle.
JD’s breath catches as they swallow the bile creeping up in their throat. They drop their gaze to the sink, hands gripping the edge of the counter to steady themself as they breathe away the dark edges of their vision. Just breathe, just breathe–don’t think about what the mission is going to do to her…
Or do.
They’re not sure how they feel about it.
But they’re a professional their job is to get it done. So they breathe and they pack it all away for later.
Then they pull their tool belt over and get to work covering their scars in fake-fur. It won’t be perfect on a crunch like this but it’ll pass better than a mask.
Final touch, they place a patch over the opposite eye and hope nobody digs too deep.
They tuck their tool belt behind the large garbage bin and don’t even take a second glance at that mirror before they step out.
CUT TO: HALLWAYS AND OLD MEMORIES
The walk up to the next floor is excruciating. JD can feel their nerves precariously perched on a razor’s edge. They have to look like FRANKIE, sure, that’s the easy part. Now they have to act like her, just as much for the hidden surveillance cameras as for anyone they might be interacting with.
Luckily, nobody’s here, at least, not in this hallway. So there’s only the alleged surveillance cameras, one can never be too careful about. They’re making their way through familiar corridors and trying to hold back the memories and resisting the urge to peel their own skin off every time they catch a glimpse of it in tired gold decor.
They turn a corner to a large gnoll leaning against the wall by a set of double doors. JD’s step falters, shit, this one’s familiar. The name of this gnoll escaping them for s moment. Started with a G…
On seeing them looking like FRANKIE, the gnoll–GEORGIE, that’s right–straightens up quickly.
GEORGIE
Ah–Miss Barkfang! Nobody said–I mean… I didn’t realise you’d be visiting today.
The familiarity’s thrown JD off enough they hesitate, but only for a moment–okay think FRANKIE.
JD
Ehh. It was last minute. I ah…
JD passes a hand through her hair.
JD
…look ya don’t exactly plan these things. You uh…made sure to keep everyone else out?
GEORGIE nods quickly. Staring at them, JD can see their eyes flick to their eye-patch which isn’t right because it’s just a patch and not her usual cybernetic. Luckily GEORGIE is still some sort of lower-rung type and is too afraid to ask about it.
GEORGIE
Yeah–Like you asked. Only Jeanie goes in there for you.
Hm… Potential problem. JD will have to be a bit quicker than they hoped if someone’s still been visiting BOZ’s office.
JD
Okay good. Just uh…gimme a few minutes alone yeah?
GEORGIE
Yeah, course.
GEORGIE steps aside, pressing a button to open the door and JD hesitates, staring down the long familiar hallway to the double doors at the end, breath catching.
GEORGIE
You…okay?
JD
Fine! Yeah. Course.
Their tone is a bit snappier than they intended in their reply but JD doesn’t wait around for an excuse before they step forward.
74. INT. BOZ’S OFFICE — CONT’D
JD peers into the space, the thick wooden door heavier than they ever imagined it being. They slip inside and press their back against it, met with horrifying familiarity and trying their best to keep up a charade.
Luckily, this will be the first time FRANKIE’s ever stepped foot in here. Too bad there probably aren’t any cameras or staff in here. JD would like to claim they’re acting was spot on–FRANKIE coming face to face with her dead pop’s crypt, back pressed against the door. Breathing staggered and wary.
Really, it’s all JD can do to try and get the room to stop spinning. Breathing slow, counting carefully. They open their eye again taking in the space.
It’s darker in here than it was the last time. Lights flicker overhead, having barely turned on when they stepped inside the room. The large roaring furnace that kept the space warm is black and cold and probably hasn’t been used since BOZ BARKFANG croaked. JD’s uncovered eye settles on the large ornate desk, fixating.
They can’t help recall the image of BOZ, looming over, FRANKIE at his side. What did she say?
FRANKIE [VO]
What did they say happened?
JD watches the thread pull on that memory, watches the scene unravel, watches her hardened look, watches her tell him it was JD’s plan.
The car, the ride, the fight after.
FRANKIE [VO]
What was I supposed to do, hm? Just tell my pops I was itchin’ to make a name?
JD unclenches their fists and exhales one more slow breath. Sixty-thousand and FRANKIE gets to eat shit for it, too.
They push everything aside stepping into the room properly, now. Casting a cursory glance to the giant awful family portrait IZOLA was painted out of.
IZOLA is another bout of memories they shouldn’t really be dealing with right now. Years of separation and one visit to BOZ’s office brings everything bubbling up like it was yesterday.
JD traces lines in the dust that’s accumulated on the thick wooden surface of the desk as they approach. Oups. Wait, wasn’t someone in here now and then to grab stuff for FRANKIE? Weird the dust is so thick.
Never-mind. They’re here now, time to finish up and get out.
JD crouches, opening up drawers, quietly, rifling through folders. Looking through all of this, JD is sure they could put the whole entirety of BARKFANG away for life. It’s all in here, or, well, a whole lot of it is…
…They let their eyes gloss over most of it. Better not to know than find out something they really shouldn’t.
They have to go through two or three different drawers before they locate the folder EMILIO mentioned. Some sort of money-scam. Fraud. BOZ spent a lot of time connecting bank accounts through a couple nearby planets in the system. It isn’t exactly high-crime. There are other things in here that could really fuck with his lineage.
It’s tempting to say the least, but that’d put them back in hot water so they resist any urge. This fraud’s just enough to put her away for a couple months, maybe a year. Enough time for EMILIO to get what he wants.
And JD to get what they need: credits to buy themself a new life. Get the fuck off this station before she even knows they’re the one that did it.
Okay, maybe that thought brings them just a little bit more closure.
They pull the folder out, flipping through it, certain this is the one EMILIO sent them for–
SFX: CHK–CLICK–
JD jolts but the door is already opening across the room. For a half second they forget who they’ve shifted into but then the other gnoll across the way blinks.
JEANIE
O-oh! Frankie! Sorry–I didn’t realise you were in here.
JD recovers, only barely. So much for the GEORGIE outside giving them time alone in here. They tilt their head and grin sheepishly. They remember to droop their ears and slap FRANKIE’s inflection on their words, again.
JD
Awh hah. Yeah…Well, I guess I had to visit sometime.
JEANIE smiles sympathetically.
JEANIE
Mm. Yeah course. I thought GEORGIE was pulling a fast one on me back there, saying you were in here. Surprised you didn’t say anything before.
JD
Ah…just sorta happened. I dunno.
JEANIE smiles knowingly. Her eyes, too, keep flicking to the patch on their eye.
JEANIE
Did um, something happen to your eye again?
JD
Ah–upgrade or something. Looks pretty awful when they gotta take bits out of it.
JEANIE
(uncomfortable)
O-oh. Right, course. You want me to get you anything or just leave you for a bit? I can come back around later.
JD
Yeah. Yeah, maybe just give me a bit in here, yeah.
JEANIE nods. She watches them for a moment, as if searching for her words before she settles on:
JEANIE
He was real proud of you, your pops. I’m sure you’ll do great in his stead.
JD hesitates but forces a small smile.
JD
Ah, thanks. I hope so.
JEANIE nods, smiling in turn and heads out the door.
JD’s heart beats sharp in their throat as they listen for the GNOLL’s footsteps. But that door is heavy and muffles any sort of sound.
They give it a painstaking 15-20 before they dip.
75. INT. THE BATHROOM AT HQ — 20 MINUTES LATER
JD’s reversed the jumpsuit back into the original one they entered with. They’re scrubbing off the make-up they put on their scars, still trying to calm the panic in their hands. It’s fine. Took a little longer than they expected but they’ve got nothing but a short stretch back out of the place and they’re scott free.
SFX: CHAK–
The bathroom door. They have only a second before whoever it is turns the corner. Without thinking, JD grabs their kit and scrambles back into one of the stalls. Great. They step up onto the toilet, letting the stall door close naturally. Hoping that it wont arouse suspicion. So much for EMILIO’s promise that nobody ever comes in here.
JD peers through the crack in the door, holding their breath as FRANKIE herself turns the corner. JD shuts their eyes and curses internally, over and over again. They’ve managed to shift back into their human look from earlier, masked and everything, but that still leaves them with the trouble of being found out, worse if she wants to be petty about some nobody maintenance guy hanging out in the bathroom like a creep.
FRANKIE doesn’t enter a stall, though. She stops, facing the mirrors and leans against the counter on her palms. She takes a deep breath and looks at her reflection.
JD watches in silence…she looks terrible. Well, worse than they’ve seen her. Her fur’s got a dullness to it, her eye struggles to even meet it’s counterpart. Admittedly, grief doesn’t really look good on anyone.
FRANKIE traces her fingers around her cybernetic, frowning.
FRANKIE
(quiet)
Ya gotta go in there. Ya gotta take charge. Yeah? Can’t keep runnin’ away. Got a job to get done.
She holds her own gaze, breathing slow until she can’t help but sniffle, a tear running from her eye.
JD looks away, guilt bubbling up in their throat. Sixty-thousand. Sixty-thousand. Sixty-thousand and running to freedom. They stuff their breaking heart under the metaphorical rug and remember the scars brushing up against their mask.
She did that.
FRANKIE sniffs again, a moment of hesitation as she catches a smell, glancing around the bathroom, slowly, taking it in. JD grits their teeth, holding their breath hoping desperately. The smell’s masked just enough.
FRANKIE
Great, now I’m smelling ghosts.
She sniffles sharper, scrubs her eye, buries her moment of weakness and peers into her reflection more seriously, digging deep. She runs water over her hands and pats her face and exhales sharp.
FRANKIE
Okay.
And then she turns tail and leaves.
JD stands crouched for another 15-20, clutching the manila envelope in their white-knuckled grip.
76. INT. WC DEES — EVENING
It’s quieter than normal when JD enters the restaurant–still under debate whether this building constitutes as one. Nobody is on the floor, there’s, a much bigger mess here than they’re even paid to deal with.
Must have been one hell of an evening.
JD makes their way to the back room and finds three of the day staff, huddled around GIDEON’s phone as she holds it. Each of them in various different stages of dressed-to-leave.
JD
Uh… You guys alright…?
They dare to ask, more out of a gut reaction than anything.
One of the other humans, Joe…? Geoffrey? Replies.
JEO…FFREY?
Stewards just took down the head of one of the Pipetown Mobs… Well. Sorta. It’s the gnoll one.
The lashunta, MARCY, nudges him.
MARCY
You can’t just say it’s the gnoll one, Dan.
Oops, right, Dan.
DAN
What?? It’s that Bark-whatever–Barkfang, one. You knew what I meant.
MARCY giggles. GIDEON shushes them as she puts the volume a bit louder. JD listens to the reporter as she speaks, hanging up their jacket.
REPORTER [OS]
A decision will be made after Francesca Barkfang’s trial two weeks from now on 17 Fourthday. Until then, may we sleep a little easier.
(sharper)
This has been breaking news at nine.
JD puts their hat on with a little smile and gets to work.
77. INT. JD’S APARTMENT — MORNING
They’ve been pacing a small divot into the length of their apartment for hours now, comm to their ear, hitting EMILIO’s answering machine. He didn’t answer their text earlier, but that’s fine. Things have been busy, on his end, surely, what with everything.
They hang up on the answering machine because they don’t leave traces behind. He’ll see they’ve called. JD flicks back over to the news, sitting down onto their sofa, biting their thumbnail.
They skim headlines.
[FRANCESCA BARKFANG UNDER SCRUTINY, EVADING TAX PAYMENTS TO ABSALOM STATION’S CULTURE AND COMMERCE SECTOR]
[WATCH THEM SCRAMBLE! BARKFANG MOB’S NEW LEADER IN CUFFS]
[ONE STEP FORWARD, TRIAL FOR FRANCESCA BARKFANG UNDER WAY, BELT TIGHTENS ON CRIME IN PIPETOWN]
JD looks over the photos of STEWARDS putting FRANKIE away. They eye the look on her face. Schadenfreude can really only go so far before it turns sour.
They’re not going to overthink this. FRANKIE’s had it coming for a while, besides, it’s not like they’ll be able to put her away for very long. It was a couple minor instances of tax evasion, maybe a mis-allocation of funds.
She’ll be gone for six to eight months, worst case for her: a year and then she can start building back up from ground 0 like the rest of the ABSALOM ilk.
JD included.
After hours of waiting for EMILIO’s response, they get ready for bed, sit in their hammock and try not to let the worry fester. He’s just busy. They’ll try again in a couple days if EMILIO doesn’t message back first.
They spend the rest of the morning scrolling until they pass out.
CUT TO: IT’S BEEN THREE WEEKS.
JD is on the phone again, it’s the third time they’ve called in three weeks, probably the dozenth time they’ve texted. JD chews the inside of their cheek, waiting and waiting, their frustration mounting up every time they get his voicemail.
This time the call goes through.
EMILIO [OS]
(bored)
Yep?
JD
Hey, it’s JD.
EMILIO [OS]
(perks up)
JD. Right. Get a load of those headlines.
JD
Yeah. You did it. Congrats, kid.
EMILIO [OS]
Thanks. All that hard work paid off.
JD
Yep. Hey, listen. Any chance you can forward me the next bit?
EMILIO [OS]
Mmm. Thought I said once things were sorted with me and the family.
JD
(strained)
Nope. We shook on, ten up front, twenty-five when the job was done and twenty five when you’re in charge.
EMILIO goes quiet on the phone, JD can hear some papers being moved around. They swallow the lump in their throat.
EMILIO [OS]
Look. JD. As it stands. I really did most of the work.
JD
(frustrated)
No, Emilio. I paid people off for that info. I stuck my neck back out there for you–
EMILIO [OS]
For us. For the satisfaction.
JD
For the credits.
EMILIO [OS]
Was it really about the credits? Pretty sure you just wanted to see Frankie burn.
JD
This isn’t a joke. Emilio. I need those credits. I did that work for you.
EMILIO [OS]
(amused)
Funny… I don’t see it in writing, here. You sure we even agreed to any of that?
There’s a couple more flips of paper, as EMILIO digs his point in and JD stares down into the hole opening up in the linoleum panels of their floor.
JD
(distracted)
We shook on it. Wouldn’t be a great start to your reign as head of the Barkfangs, knowing you’re not good on your word.
EMILIO [OS]
(cold)
Is that a threat?
JD hesitates, adjusting the comm in their hand.
JD
(carefully)
No… Just stating a fact.
EMILIO [OS]
Far as I can tell. There’s no evidence to support your facts so, they’re sounding much more like accusations.
JD
Don’t do this… Emilio, c’mon you can be better than them.
EMILIO [OS]
(laughs)
Pops was right, you are funny.
JD goes quiet, speechless as their mind comes up empty. They’re staring at the bloodstained floor in IZOLA’s office.
EMILIO [OS]
Well, anyway. If you want to keep what sad life you’ve got you’ll stay quiet and keep your head down. Otherwise, I’ll keep digging and you’ll be dead before you can squeal. Got it?
The black hole starts to tear at the rest of the apartment, a violent storm, pulling the facade apart and whipping it all around them.
JD
Mhmm.
EMILIO [OS]
Good.
The line goes dead and JD stands in the middle of their too-small space the silence ringing in their ears.
78.EVERYTHING’S FINE — NOT REALLY
JD lays in their hammock, their eyes tracing the lattice of piping outside their window before their alarm goes off. They pull themself out of bed.
Peer into their empty fridge. They pick a small pack of something out. They sit on their couch and eat it, skimming headlines too fast to read.
In the bathroom they don’t look at themself in the mirror. They brush their teeth, clean up their face. The bruise is gone now because its been nearly a year since…
…well, anyway.
They get ready for work, putting on the WC DEE’s awful red and yellow jumpsuit. They throw a jacket overtop, sling a bag over their shoulder.
And step face-to-face with their landlord, older human with a worse smoking habit then their own.
LANDLORD
Yer rent.
JD
Tonight.
LANDLORD
You’re three months overdue.
JD
Yeah. Tonight. I’ll have it.
LANDLORD
Last warning. Tonight. Don’t fuck with me.
JD grits their teeth.
JD
Mhm.
The landlord looks them over and it makes JD wish their shifting came with invisibility. When she leaves they lock up behind themself and dart off to work.
CUT TO: WORK.
JD doesn’t talk to anyone. They step in, earbuds already plugged in so they can ignore any greeting, though most have stopped bothering by now.
They hit their locker, shove their jacket into it, throw their hat on, shut the door.
They knock on REMY’s door. The ysoki, as always, looks frazzled. He doesn’t notice JD right away, making JD have to knock again. REMY startles this time.
REMY
Oh! Oh, JD, yes. <<Come in, come in.>>
JD steps inside and shuts the door behind them. They move to sit, hesitating, their leg bounces as they swallow what little pride they have left.
REMY
What is–?
JD
(wary)
I need to get paid… In advance, you’ve had to dock my pay twice now…
REMY
Oh yes! Firstday it’s good?
JD
I need it tonight.
REMY frowns.
REMY
Mm. <<This is short notice, JD>>
JD
I know. It’s urgent.
REMY watches them, maybe a bit concerned, JD wouldn’t know because they refuse to make eye-contact.
REMY
Yes… Okay. Is… Everything okay?
JD
(annoyed)
It’d be better if my boss could pay me properly, but, you know.
REMY scoffs. Sighs and concedes.
REMY
There is, a new contract. Things will be easier, soon. If you want to come, there is a bonus pay for you. Overtime pay.
JD
How long?
REMY
Full shift, maybe twelve hours.
JD does some of the math in their head. It’s not great but beggars can’t really be choosers.
JD
Yeah. Okay.
REMY
Good. We will put some of that shift to use.
JD
The what?
REMY smirks and gives them a little wink. They’re trying not to hate the way his chipper mood is eating into their irritability.
JD
Yeah. Alright.
REMY grins.
REMY
Perfect. <<I will have your pay ready, before you leave. Remind me if I forget.>>
JD
Yep.
JD nods and pulls themself out of the seat and heads off before they can get any more frustrated with the guy who just bailed them out…
…more or less.
CUT TO: ACTUALLY WORKING.
JD cuts corners, scrubbing and cleaning. They spend a lot of time with the wax machine, accidentally double-buffing the linoleum. Hopefully it doesn’t prove too much of a slipping hazard.
At the end of their shift they step into REMY’s office. The ysoki left them a cred-stick, a card and a little note on his desk asking them to lock up when they’re done.
They plug the cred-stick into their phone to read it and it reads 1500 credits. JD sighs, relieved. They pocket the stick and pick up the business card. There’s a note attached to this too, written in ysoki: [if you need extra credits].
The business card’s for some sort of lawyer? Dispatcher? The name typed on the front says UR. N. GOODHANDS… Oh. Hm. It’s been a while since they’ve run into this guy. Used to help out covering up BITECLAW evidence with the STEWARDS.
JD sighs. Might be worth it. It’s probably not going to be very straight-and-narrow work.
They pocket the card, lock up, head home.
79. INT. LANDLORD’S OFFICE — MORNING
JD knocks on the door and waits, they have to do this three times before she answers, smoke pools from the room as she looks up at them, maybe a little surprised.
JD
I uh… Got rent, for the three months.
She holds a hand out to them. JD places the cred stick in her palm and she plugs the stick into her phone.
LANDLORD
Still missing a hundred.
JD frowns.
JD
No its five a month–
LANDLORD
(unamused)
Plus interest for missing.
JD passes a hand through their hair and sighs.
JD
Okay… That’s what I have for now. I’ll get the rest… Soon.
She looks at them, leaning against the door.
LANDLORD
Two weeks. Pay up or get out.
JD
Two weeks–??
JD reads the extremely unrelenting and unamused look on her face. They concede.
JD
Right. Two weeks.
She shuts the door in their face.
CUT TO: HOME SWEET HOME… FOR NOW.
JD flicks through their contacts. The three miserable ones they’re left with, yet again. They start typing to M.
[Hey. Been a while. You… Wouldn’t happen to have a couple hundred credits laying around–]
Delete.
[Matante, sorry to ask but I really need–]
Delete.
[Matante. You can either come pick me up, (no, I’m not kidding) or send me a couple hundred credits so that I can pay my bullshit rent on this metal heap you forced me to escape to.
Please.]
Delete. Delete. Delete.
JD sets the phone aside and scrubs at their face with a groan. They give themself a few minutes to breathe. They reach into their pocket for their box of cig–
They pause, finger brushing up against the business card they already forgot about. They pull it out and turn it over in their hands.
They smoke on it for a moment, hesitating.
It takes them a few minutes of internal deliberation before they decide to call the number on the back of the card. They sit back in their seat, listening to the ringing tone, looking dismal.
The other line picks up.
???
UR. N. Goodhands’s office. How can we help you?
JD
Hello. I was uh, given a card of Goodhands’ by a friend, said he might have some work for folks who might be looking.
???
(pause)
Very good. Please hold.
They sit on hold for half an hour before the line picks up again, to a crustier voice, real sleazy.
GOODHANDS
Goodhands speaking. Shoot.
JD
Hey. Goodhands. Been a while.
GOODHANDS
(pause)
JD… It sure has been a while. What can I do you for?
JD takes a deep breath.
JD
I need a gig. Urgent. Pays decent.
GOODHANDS chuckles on the other side.
GOODHANDS
Well, well. Let’s see what I can hook you up with.
80. INT. GOODHANDS’ OFFICE — DAY
JD is here early. At least by a couple hours. GOODHANDS’ office is not exactly a place for folks of high status or stature… Or cleanliness really. It smells in here, even for someone whose main sensory output isn’t smell. They check in with the receptionist and find some corner of the room to keep themself out of the way of GOODHANDS’ usual clientele. He’s a lawyer by day. They’re here honestly far too early. They’ll be waiting until close but they, hoped that maybe there wouldn’t be too many alien hanging about in the waiting room for him.
Of course, busy is as busy does. Everyone’s got a problem and GOODHANDS is cheap–at least for your first issue. JD’s not totally fond of the guy but they don’t have anywhere else to go. Maybe one or two under-the-table gigs is what they need to get beck on their feet.
Either way, better to be early than late. JD wasn’t doing much otherwise and being out of the apartment means they’re not around for their landlord to pester about the missing credits.
As the room filters out different alien who have met with GOODHAND it seems to keep filling up with other’s taking up empty seats. They’ve watched a large vesk with gold-yellow colouring–and a blue-green tail to match her horns–settle into some seats far too small for her. Honestly she just about takes up half the space in the small waiting room.
An android with blue streaks of LEDs in their hair half-tied back steps in with a masked partner, a human maybe? They talk quietly to one another as the human takes the lead and instructs them to a seat.
Uh oh. JD makes a face, pulls their cap down and sinks into their corner a bit more. The next one is a sentient bee colony, a spathinae, they met this guy a couple weeks ago at that one gig REMY gave them for overtime that went kind of sour. They’re an actor… Really eccentric. Too loud, admittedly. Certainly not made for crime…JD isn’t sure why this guy of all alien would even be here. They thought the big league actors would have credits enough to pay for any proper legal representation.
But maybe they’ve got some secrets to take care of. Usually rich folks send proxies. It’s certainly odd.
As the room filters out, one final alien steps in, a gnoll, short thing, fancy outfit. She steps into the place and JD didn’t recognise her with her uncertain slouch and flicking gaze, the tired dated fit–
But when the recognition hits, it hits them out of left field and they can’t take their eyes off her as she moves through the space and finds a quiet seat across the room. She looks around, taking in the scene. JD breathes, shallow, slower and slower until it catches in their throat.
Maybe they could leave before she…
…and then her eyes meet their’s, slow, painstaking, like the station’s orbit is creeping to a halt all around them. Freezing in time and space as the recognition dawns in on her, too.
Of all the possibilities on this station…
Of all their rotten luck…
JD locks eyes with the one and only, FRANKIE BARKFANG.
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That’s the end for now~ Thanks for following along~