Planetary News: A man known as Mr. Shoelaces is wanted by the police in Victoria City, Jupiter, for stealing shoelaces from shoes left unattended too during prayer hours in multiple religious gatherings.
Wolf tapped his heels on the steel floor and drummed his fingers on the chair's arms. Streams of cold sweat descended his neck, sending shivers down his spine, raising the hair on his arms and legs. Thirty minutes had passed since they left him alone in the room.
"Crows with balls!" A rolling feeling gripped his stomach, making his muscles quiver. "I shouldn't have come here." He tried swallowing his saliva, but the lump in his throat prevented it. "Stupid, stupid, stupid. I should've listened to Wednesday."
A great whoosh echoed through the room, followed by a click. Wolf couldn't see what was happening—the helmet on his head blocked his vision, leaving him in total darkness.
Indistinct voices and footsteps filled the room. But as they neared him, he heard them loud and clear, enabling him to tell them apart.
"Yo! Get it off that bitch," Skully said.
A beep and click came from his helmet, then it deconstructed into a collar, the metal moving from his head to neck. Wolf looked away from the room's bright light with narrowed eyes, waiting for them to readjust to his environment. When he could see clearly, he faced forward.
Skully, Two-Face, and Hannibal stared at him. His heart stuttered as their seven-foot figures shadowed him. He swallowed his fear—the acidic taste in his mouth ran down his throat and burned his racing heart—before clenching his jaw. He hated how they always looked down on him as if he was an insect. Just because they were rich and powerful didn't make them better than him. If he knew the right people and had connections all over the system, then he would have been where they were.
Skully narrowed his eyes and pressed his lips, hinting at his annoyance with Wolf. And as much as Wolf feared him, he admired the cyborg's fashion; the long white fur coat, black miniskirt and fishnet stockings, and white high-heeled boots made him look like a rockstar.
In fact, Skully was a celebrity, but for the wrong reasons.
"I gave you time to think, half-breed. Now, where are my credits?" Skully started calling Wolf a half-breed after he discovered the man was biplanetarian—someone born from parents of different planets.
"Skully, my dear, dear, cyborg-I-don't-want-to-piss-off," Wolf shrilled before clearing his throat, his heart's pace increasing. It would explode if he didn't calm down. "Where are your credits, you ask?"
Skully took a step forward, his silver skin glimmering under the room's light. His glowing eyes—black pupils and red irises—and the two goat-like gold metallic horns on his forehead gave him a demonic appearance. He had been a cyborg since the age of eight after his parents sold his organs and flesh for drug money.
"I don't know what pisses me more about you: the fact you're a half-breed or organic." Organic was a slur used by cyborgs to refer to people who didn't have any cybernetic implants.
"Both?" Wolf chuckled, sweat dripping down the side of his face.
"Where are my credits?" The cyborg bared his shark-like teeth.
"Skully." He gulped. "Listen—"
"No! I fucking warned you! Either you pay me, or I break your legs!" Skully took a deep breath and exhaled through his mouth. He turned to Two-Face and Hannibal. "Has this bitch paid me?" The two shook their heads in unison. Skully looked at Wolf. "Then Imma break your legs."
"Wait, wait, wait." Wolf's heart thumped even faster. Any more and it would bust out of his chest and make a run for it. "Let's talk about this. Let's discuss. Let's converse. Let's..." He chewed his top lip, thinking of another synonym. Skully had his arms behind his back while his demonic eyes glowered at Wolf. "Skully, me and you, you and I, together, in unison, as a team, compadre, we're like head and neck. We mesh."
"Mesh?" Skully curled his lip.
"Yes, mesh." Wolf tried interlocking his fingers, but he couldn't with his hands restrained to the chair. He hoped the cyborg would understand what he had intended. "We go way back, gangsta and bounty hunter. We're one, like a witch and a cat. Meow." He chuckled. "I'm the cat by—"
Two-Face punched Wolf in the gut, knocking the air out of him. Wolf hunched over and groaned in pain, his vision going in and out of focus like a camera lens. He tried swallowing as much air as he could, his eyes watering in the process. Large veins popped up on his neck and face as he coughed multiple times before sitting upright.
"What was that—"
Hannibal smacked him with the back of his hand, jerking Wolf's head to the side. Blood splattered to the floor from the cut on his bottom lip, while some dribbled down his chin. The world around him spun; blurriness blocked his vision like a fog, leaving his thoughts distorted.
Wolf needed a minute to gather himself. Even though he was used to getting his ass kicked, the punch and slap caught him off-guard. The three gangstas had never been physical with him in the past. When they brought him into the room, he had expected threats before getting a final chance to pay his debt.
Skully crouched in front of him. "Where are my credits?"
Wolf blinked away the tears in his eyes and looked past Skully, peering at Two-Face and Hannibal. Like Skully, they had modified their whole bodies. While Skully was a regular-looking cyborg, the other two were super-cyborgs—they had weapons implanted in their bodies.
Though the two super-cyborgs had similar build and height—they were twins—they differed in skin color and dressing style. Two-Face had dark skin with warm undertones and preferred leather clothes, while Hannibal had dark skin with cool undertones and liked wearing tuxedos.
They also didn't go Skully's route of having horns and demonic eyes. Their eyes were orange and purple, respectively.
Two-Face watched Wolf with crossed arms and a curled lip. Hannibal was busy cleaning the blood-stained diamond ring on his middle finger with the hem of his coat.
Skully grabbed Wolf's chin and directed his gaze towards him. "I asked you a question," he said in a calm voice, followed by a low growl. Now, this was when Skully was the scariest. Forget the shouting and snarling and angry expressions. When the gangsta seemed composed while addressing you, you were as good as dead.
"I'll pay you after my next bounty..." Wolf gulped. "I promise." His stomach hardened before a wave of nausea swallowed him. The world spun around him again, making his head sway left and right. Skully grabbed the back of Wolf's head and kept it in place, maintaining eye contact. "I'm asking for one last chance. Please, Kingpin."
"I like you, Wolf. You have one week to pay me," Skully said. "If you don't, I will hunt down your half-breed ass and drain the shit out of it. Understand?"
"Yes."
Skully stood and glanced at Two-Face. "Release him."
Two-Face uncuffed Wolf's arms from the chair and removed the metal collar around his neck. Wolf coughed twice while rubbing his neck. Two-Face's perfume was potent. The fruity scent lingered around him even after the super-cyborg had stepped away.
Skully turned away from Wolf and waved him off. "Leave."
Wolf stood, clutching his ribs, and headed for the door. He had never been in the basement before. He had only heard of it in passing from the people that had failed to pay their debt. But now that he was there, it wasn't as intimidating as he had thought. Apart from the stale air and soundproof walls, rusty drain pipes leaked from each corner. Cardboard boxes filled one end of the room with metal body parts inside, belonging to either cyborgs, synths, or droids.
The door opened, and Wolf walked out. A silver staircase pinned to the metallic wall stood in front of him. Electronic dance music came from the nightclub on the other side of the wall; its loud bass making the wall and floor tremble.
Wolf ran one hand along the guardrail for balance, while the other clutched his stomach. Each step sent sharp knives to his torso, making him whimper. He fought through the pain until he reached the top of the stairs.
"This is what I get for betting against a gangsta," he muttered through labored breathing.
Wolf loved Synth Boxing and enjoyed gambling. Put the two together, and you had his attention. His favorite synth boxer, Beeg Deek, had won him a lot of credits. When he heard Beeg Deek would fight Skully's favorite boxer, Honi Lava, Wolf got cocky and called Skully, making a bet of one-hundred and twenty-five thousand credits, claiming Honi Lava wouldn't last five minutes against Beeg Deek.
Honi Lava ended up beating Beeg Deek in under a minute, setting a championship knockout record.
Wolf reached inside his trouser's pocket and took out an earpiece before wearing it. It camouflaged itself by matching his brown skin. He turned it on by pressing the button at its bottom.
"You are alive?" Wednesday asked, sounding disappointed.
Wolf sighed. He had expected Wednesday to ask that. But she could have pretended to care about his well-being. "Skully gave me one last chance."
"How much time?"
"One week."
"How unfortunate."
Wolf missed the days when Wednesday spoke less and followed his orders. When he had purchased her, he hadn't known she would study him and develop a personality like his. He would have shut her off a long time ago if she wasn't the reason he was still alive.
"If it makes you feel better, they kicked my ass." He pushed the door at the top of the stairs and entered Skully's office.
"Yahoo! Yes! Woohoo! Yippee! Thank you, Universe!"
Wolf rolled his eyes, the idea of shutting her off sounding good now. "Are you done?"
"You should have listened to me when I told you it was a terrible idea going to Paradiso without Skully's credits. Did you listen? No. You think you are so—"
"Hold that thought." Wolf observed the room. He had been there earlier when Two-Face and Hannibal put the metal collar around his neck and took him to the basement. The sweet smell of the Venus jasmine flower filled the room, easing the pain in his body—it was famous for healing damaged nerves.
Gold-framed paintings of humans and machines covered the white walls. A lot of people had projected photos, as they were easier to carry and transfer. But Skully had chosen the ancient way, having frames holding real paintings.
Wolf wanted to touch one, but he was afraid of breaking them and increasing his debt to Skully. Real paintings were expensive and hard to find. The fact that Skully had eight meant he had exhausted a lot of credits getting them.
"Wow, that's Marie Claire," Wolf muttered, staring at her face. She was the first synth to fight for the freedom of machines. If it weren't for their rubber skin and purple blood, synths would get away with being human. "You changed the system forever." Her rebellion ended machine enslavement in the system, giving them rights similar to humans.
"What are those beside you?" Wednesday asked.
Wolf looked at what she was referring to and saw a wall-mount of animal heads, ranging from familiars like lions, rhinos, and giraffes, to exotics like dinosaurs, sabertooth, and mammoths.
Many years ago scientists developed cloning technology, using it to clone extinct animals and calling them "exotics". It didn't take long before they became the hottest property on the black market, bringing in trillions of credits and leading to the birth of The Underworld.
"They are animals, Wednesday," Wolf replied with a smile.
"I know that, idiot." The earpiece had a revolving camera, allowing Wednesday to see everything Wolf saw. And more. "I meant above the exotics. Are those—"
"Dogs, yes." The heads of a German shepherd, poodle, bulldog, rottweiler, and a greyhound filled the wall Wednesday referred to.
"I have never seen a dog in real life. So, these many variations existed in the past?"
"Yes."
"The conspiracy theorists were right. Scientists have gathered enough dog DNA to clone them again."
"Since when do you read conspiracy theories?"
"I get bored when you switch off the earpiece. I have to find something else to do."
"What about covering my blind spots?"
"I can focus on a million things at once. I am an AI. Do not worry."
Wolf couldn't help but worry. Wednesday had been begging him to take more bounties so he could have enough credits to buy her a sleeve—an advanced synthetic body produced by mixing human genetics and cybernetic implants. They were expensive, costing between one to five million credits—it increased depending on the number of customizations. Wednesday had insisted she wanted one so she could be his field partner, but he knew it was a lie. She wanted one because she dreamed of exploring the universe, something he had no desire of doing.
At the end of the day, he had no choice but to give her what she wanted. Either that or face resistance. The latter wouldn't end well for him.