Bounty Hunter

The Colorado sun beat down heavy on her shoulders as she casually picked away at her guitar. The stranger was leaned against her motorcycle, a classic American style street bike, hard to come by in this day and age. On the side of its engine was a snarling white wolf with the words ‘Lobos Blanco’ written underneath. The guitar she picked was a classic too, travel size, made of non-modified wood. Her wide brimmed hat protected her eyes as she concentrated on the frets, deftly jumping from one bluesy note to the next.

In front of her sat an old two-story house with minimal modifications. Most older houses in 2055 had tech additions to give stronger signal or allow for cyber-splicing capabilities. This one just had a radio dish with some small mods, presumably to boost signal in the Central Plains. A remote area for an already remote region. The only noise out here was the soft wind against the golden grasses, flat for miles aside from the occasional stubborn line of trees. The house was painted a faded sky blue with white trim and had a rickety looking porch with a screen door. Unremarkable by all accounts, except for the man who was in it.

The stranger stopped her picking when the screen door swung open and an older man stepped out, a cigar in his mouth and a revolver in his hand. He was in his late fifties with a full greying beard and a buzzed receding hairline. The arm that held the gun was cybernetic, jet black with the occasional purple light. It was scuffed and worn from years of use and repairs. He wore a black tank top tucked into a pair of blue jeans with brown hiking boots. His eyes were mismatched, the one on the left a steely blue, the one on the right a purple cybernetic that glowed faintly in the shadow of the porch.

“Maria…long time.” he greeted in a voice like sandpaper, stepping further out into the morning light. Scars striated from his cybernetic eye, illuminated by the sun. Maria set down the guitar next to her, leaning it on the bike. She stood up and tucked her thumbs into her belt. Her amber eyes regarded the man as a mixture of regret and sorrow welled up in her chest.

“Yeah, it has been Henry. Honestly, I wasn’t sure you were alive after all these years.” she responded in a strong voice. He nodded his understanding. Maria noticed that the gun was still at his hip, aimed in her general direction.

“Well, you been in the life as long as I have, you pick up some tricks. Speaking of…the Lobos. They’re gone?” Henry asked hesitantly, though Maria could tell he already knew the answer. She took a few casual steps forward, meandering as she studied the horizon.

“Five years now. Corporate snakes caught wind and they just…never let up. It was a slow death for the gang. Many went out with a bang, though.” She recalled grimly, memories flashing violently through her head. Henry said nothing to that but instead pulled the cigar from his mouth and gestured to the guitar with it.

“See you still play, sounds good. I’d prefer something a little more full-bodied myself.” the old man said with a sniff. Maria chuckled, turning to face him.

“Hard to pack a full-size guitar on a bike. Besides, I had a good enough teacher that I can make her sound full.” Maria replied warmly. A wistful smile overtook the man’s face for a moment before dropping. He put the cigar back in his mouth and started puffing. His stance changed.

“Why are you here, Mari? You didn’t come all the way out here after seven years to talk picking six strings and old gang shootouts.” he said and Maria nodded, looking him in the eyes.

“The corporate snakes got me too, Henry. They got the support of the US. If I want to stay free, I got to do bounty work for them. You just happened to be on the list. They didn’t link you to the Lobos but, well, you do have twenty-five years of smuggling and gun running even if you didn’t help start the gang.” Maria explained, a hand snaking its way to the hilt of her own revolver. Henry blew air out of his nostrils like an irritated bull. A tired bull. He leaned against one of the posts that held up the porch overhang.

“Uncle Sam always gets his due, even when he’s on a corporate leash. Learned that as a young man. Guess I was just hopeful I could die peacefully. But he’s got a long memory, Sam, and he don’t forgive.” he said, more to himself than to anyone else. He looked past Maria at the vast expanse of plains. Wind turbines spun lazily in the distance. Finally, he stared at Maria and the gunslinger could feel his gaze burn through her soul. But she held it.

“Don’t suppose I could convince you to turn back? For both our sakes.” Henry asked, and Maria knew it wasn’t him pleading for his freedom or even his life. It was him bargaining for her sanity. She shook her head, fingers wrapping around her revolver’s chestnut grip.

“I have people I need to take care of Henry, not just myself. If you come with me, you can live out the rest of your days.” she offered, trying desperately to keep the despair out of her voice. Henry just gave a derisive snort.

“A corporate prison ain’t living.” he growled and in an instant his gun was level with her head. But Maria had been expecting it and she dove to the right, rolling as a bullet slammed into the earth where she was just standing. Her revolver cleared leather and she fired twice before the old smuggler could squeeze the trigger. Both rounds punched through his chest and he staggered back, hitting the wall behind him. A weaker person would have been dropped by those shots but Henry raised his iron again and fired wildly. Maria ducked but still felt the searing sensation through her arm as a bullet grazed her. She responded by aiming center mass and squeezing two more off. The old man’s body jolted and shuddered as the gun slipped from his hand. He slid sideways down the wall and thudded on the wooden porch.

Maria held her position for a moment, chest heaving as she kept her revolver trained on his motionless body. A streak of blood was smeared against the blue wall and as she approached him, she could see crimson dripping through the floorboards of the porch. Maria holstered her gun and kicked the man’s revolver away. She sat down next to him and took his bloody hand. His chest was rising and falling but it was getting slower by the second, she knew he wasn’t long for this world. Henry looked at her with a steel eye. The bounty hunter had killed more than a few people in her life, and many went out with fear and panic. But Ol’ Henry only had understanding and maybe a glint of satisfaction in his eye. Then it was gone and she was alone.

Around his neck hung a medallion, circular with the image of a snarling white wolf on it. Proof of the kill and proof that he was a founding member of Lobos Blanco. She had lied when she told him the corps didn’t know. Of course the bastards knew he helped found it but maybe he would have surrendered if he didn’t know. Maria knew now that was a foolish hope. A man like Henry would never be placed in chains willingly, least of all if a monopoly was doing the binding.

Maria took the medallion and stood up, slowly walking back to her motorcycle. A strong gust of wind billowed her raven hair and she put a hand on her hat to keep it from flying away. A storm was approaching. It would wash the blood from the house. Maybe it would wash the blood from her hands as well.