Six against one. The odds were against me. I held my hands up. The goon squad drew their hand cannons and approached.
“Screw it,” I thought. “I’d rather be dead than surrender.”
Bounty hunting. If you’re looking for work, I don’t recommend it. God knows I wish I’d of gotten into a nice vocational training program but I’m stuck with my career choice now, and if I can’t talk you out of it, you’d better get your own arsenal.
Don’t just get one. Carry it with you. I did. Unlucky for me, it was all neatly stored within my duster sitting on the couch on the opposite side of the room.
I was going to have to do this bare handed.
“OK boys,” I said as I clasped my hands behind my neck. “Let’s get this over with.”
They drew closer, their sights trained on me. One of them put his hand on mine. I twisted it, broke it at the wrist, then caught the blaster he dropped with his free hand. I used it to gank two of those losers. I made a backward dive across the floor, trading shots along the way.
There it was. My precious duster. I reached in the pocket and found a small rubber ball.
Three henchmen left.
“WAIT!!!” I shouted. I stood up with my hands up again. “I give up!”
“What’s in your hand?” on of the goons asked.
“Huh?” I asked.
“YOUR HAND! WHAT’S IN IT?!”
“Oh, this thing?” I said as I opened my hand up to reveal the ball. “Here, catch.”
I threw it. The goon caught it. The three of them stood there staring at it like it was a beguiling mystery.
I clicked my Sen Pen twice.
“Detontate,” I said.
Next thing I knew, it was raining shai parts. Not a pretty sight.
I put on my duster with a flourish. It’s the only way to put on a duster. You should try it sometime. Not with mine though. Get your own.
Behind me, a low growl turned into a ferocious roar. I’d forgotten there was one more goon. A furry one.
I kept perfectly still. I could hear the banji beast charge. I could sense it getting closer and closer. I lulled it in, letting her think she’d bested me and then…BAM! I turned around at the last minute and smashed the fuzzy bastard right in the face, knocking it the hell out.
You wish you were badass enough to say that you punched a banji beast in the face, don’t you? It’s ok. Don’t feel bad. There can only be one Roman Voss.