Amiga looked around the dreadful camp with pure disdain displayed across her face. The conditions these Titans were living in were atrocious. To have said they lived in squalor would have been an insult to those that lived in squalor.

The East Alton Debt Internment camp was a place where hope went to die a slow strangled death. She watched as many large Titans were going about their daily labor. Most of these Titans were rather large and burly, many having multiple cybernetic enhancements, and for a lot of them, those enhancements were the reason for their forced internment at the facility. These enhancements were not cheap and were controlled entirely by the Zenith Corporation and their subsidiary the Office of Titan Robotics and Technology. There simply was no other way unless one was born to the privileged class of Titan elite to get a replacement limb or enhancements to be able to keep up in the modern job market but to go into debt with Zenith.

On one end of the camp was a massive forge, glowing from the molten steel and fires within. A line of workers relayed huge barrels from the camp to the portable forge while another line was busy driving railroad ties into the ground, so that they may more efficiently load cargo into the fires. There were several unused carts set up to the side of these tracks, ready to be used soon.

There was another group of workers breaking rocks by the tree line, hammering in unison and singing a working song together in time with the blows. Others were chopping and stacking wood with swollen upper body muscles and these too were singing the same song. Amiga shook her head at the scene, compared to the massive city sized forges elsewhere on Gothmir that were largely robot staffed and automated, how much could a little operation like this really output daily? She would get her answer much later when she found out that some of the silicate minerals involved in the smelting process here were actually deemed too volatile for expensive specialized robots to work with. The indebted Titans were deemed less valuable than robots and thus expendable. It all came down to numbers and the bottom line for the Zenith Corporation, and in the long run was cheaper to throw Titan lives to the fires than produce automatons for the labor, which cost resources. The indebted were free and plentiful.

Amiga’s followers had settled into the camp, and the local workers had offered food from their scarce resources and offered them the meager shelter that they had as well. Something about the scene boiled the young Foxen’s blood beating in her body. The fact that these downtrodden Titans who had so few resources and so little hope, these Titans would most likely work at this site until they died from exposure or overexertion, that they would be so willing to give what little they had to strangers in need was heartwarming. On the other hand, the small percentile of the upper-class of Titans who controlled the cities, the politics, the corporations and the businesses, that they treated Titan life with so little regard was infuriating.

But in the end, Amiga thought to herself, what could really be done about the situation? That was the way Titan turned, and nothing more. It is not as if the wealthy and powerful would someday share their power with the lower class. The population of Titan was exactly where the rich needed them, controlled, with a boot holding them down. What could be done to change this? The people of this internment camp were so downtrodden, so indoctrinated that there were not even any walls or guards to make sure they worked themselves to death.

Amiga made her way towards the forge and flagged down one of the workers. She had to yell to make herself heard over the noise but when she told him her plans, he seemed dumbfounded. There was no fight left in these Titans and he stepped aside and let her through just the same. She shooed the workers out of the dangerous environment and began doing the dangerous smelting herself. She was able to move faster and lift more than even the most cybernetically enhanced members of this community.

Within two hours she had the entire quota for the day complete, and the Titans began to cheer her. She had given them the one present that many of them had never seen in a lifetime. She gave them a half-day off work.

* * * *

Rocky did not notice the Wolverine come into the diner at first. What he noticed was Reegan’s eyes go wide when she noticed him. He turned to face the other Titan, somehow sensing the danger behind him.

“Who are you?” Rocky asked. There was no doubting that this Titan had been walking directly towards him, and there was also no doubting that malevolent look in those eyes.

The Wolverine sneered and Rocky, through his instinctive non-pred instincts, knew the danger. He knew the brothers would eventually face this day, when the bounty hunters would catch up to them, he just imagined it would happen when they were all three together able to present a unified resistance. It should not have been a big surprise though, that a well experienced bounty hunter would have watched from the shadows and waited for an opportunity such as this. It is what he would have done after all.

The Wolverine swiped at his face with no further conversation, and by some miracle, Rocky was able to duck his head just outside of reach. The Wolverine pressed the attack with lightning reflexes, and Rocky backpedaled with nearly the same. He knew he did not want to put the two Rodentia at his table in danger, so he was moving quickly to put distance between them.

The Wolverine took the bait, focusing solely on the Procyon. Reegan however, had other plans and spilled a drink on the ground deliberately before the advancing monster. The Wolverine was launching an attack at that exact moment and slipped off balance from the wet floor. Rocky had his staff out and extended in an instant, knowing that hesitation with a pred type would mean certain death. He pressed his own attack in the brief opening provided to him, using the staff’s length to keep the smaller beast at bay.

This was his opportunity to show himself if no one else that he was just as capable as his brothers at defending himself. Years of sibling teasing had caused this deep seeded insecurity, and he now began fighting like hell against that idea, more so than the fierce little killer in front of him. Rocky’s eyes began to go wide quickly though, as his attacks seemed to have little effect, even though he placed a few solid blows. It was not like hitting a muscular little pred race, it was more like hitting a solid wall…

It was like hitting a cyborg, Rocky realized with growing dread. It was exactly like hitting that Catus back at the bar.

“What are you on about, you bleedin’ loon?” Rocky demanded, hoping to slow his opponent even if he did not get an answer. “Why are you attacking me? I don’t even know you!”

“Why’re ya backin’ away? Get back here ‘n have a scrap.” The little Wolverine growled before launching himself into another attack.

“I don’t want a “scrap”!” Rocky was working to keep his opponent at staff’s length and ended up leaping on a booth to keep the high ground. “Why do you?”

“Sort yourself out bud.” The Wolverine countered this maneuver with a single downward strike, smashing the table to bits.

Rocky managed to leap over his opponent’s head, and when he hit the ground, he made a beeline for the door.

“Git back here and take your licks! I’m gonna take your head off and use your body as a lav receptacle.” The Wolverine swiped a plate from a table and spun it across the room. It would have hit the Procyon, but he made it out the door a split second before it smashed to pieces against the wall.

Rocky did not get much of a reprieve, with a crash of the door flying open and the glass shattering with it, the raging Mustelid was just a step behind. Drawing gasps from a passing group of Felids, Rocky pulled his E-pistol from its holster and leveled it. It was illegal to posses a firearm within the city and brandishing one openly would not endear him to the authorities, but this was a desperate situation.

“Well? Bring it on you shitty fuck nerd!” The Wolverine stopped to expose his chest. “If you got the balls, I got the time sweetheart.”

Rocky was not entirely sure what had just been said to him, but he pulled the trigger. A three-round burst struck his opponent in the chest. He winced but looked even angrier than before. With a single deft move, he crossed the divide between them and swatted the weapon aside, which went spinning across the concrete, and with the other hand he swiped Rocky’s chest, leaving a long gash that felt like a spike being driven through his skin, and then like thousands of bees stinging him at once.

Rocky threw a wild punch that the quick Wolverine ducked under, and before he knew what had happened, the smaller pred had grabbed his arm and smashed him painfully to the ground. The pred was now standing over him, a line of long white shining teeth bared as he gazed down at Rocky.

“Why are you doing this, ya bloody git?” Rocky threw his arms up to protect his face.

“You had it comin’, ya hoser.” He seemed to pause for a moment as he realized that the Procyon honestly did not seem to realize why he was now being attacked. “You were one of the Procyons that killed Mane.”

“Mane?” Rocky began to back away on his elbows, glad for the slightest reprieve. “You’re gonna have to be a little more specific mate. We’ve killed a lot of Titans lately.”

The Wolverine snarled but seemed to be on the hook and did not immediately attack. Rocky could sense this and wanted to keep him talking. “At least tell me who Mane was. If I’m going to die over something I did, don’t you at least want me to know what it was and feel bad for it?”

“Fair enough.” The snarling wild-eyed Wolverine composed himself instantly and the abrupt change in personality was a little startling. “Mane was the cyborg you killed at the Busy Badger…”

“Busy Badger.” Rocky repeated as though he were contemplating the name, but in reality, he was speaking into the GPS city-search on his Net-Comm unit. His search came up less than a second later and showed him a small little dive bar in an alley near the entrance of the city. It came to him like a lightning bolt. The cyborg reaper.

“The reaper?” Rocky asked, having subtly backed away enough to scramble back to his feet. Then a sudden realization dawned on his face that was painfully obvious and he felt stupid he did not recognize the fact earlier. “You’re a reaper too!”

“Of course, I am. And Mane was like a brother to me.”

“Well hold on just a minute. He attacked us! We were only defending ourselves. It’s not like we went out of our way to murder anyone in cold blood.”

“I seen the archived footage. The big one attacked him and the three of you ganged up on him. You little keeners were just lucky it was Mane, who was the nicest, most generous Felid on the face of Titan. ‘Cause now ya got me. Pretty much the opposite of that.”

“I gather.” Rocky winced as he touched the bloody gashes across his chest, they stung like poison. “The tosser was killing people! He ripped a Titan’s heart out of ‘is chest in front of th’ whole bar!”

“Of course he did, you daft little monkey! He was doing his damn job! When these fuckin’ shit-stains of society don’t pay their bills, someone has to repo ‘em. If you got fancy tastes you better have a fancy account. The idiot Titans around here think they can get enhancements for free and would rip off their own mothers just to get ahead. I dunno if you’re new here or something but honor is a dead concept in Kallerish City.”

“That may be, but to walk up to someone in broad daylight and outright kill them? Isn’t that a bit…daft sir?”

“Now I know you’re not from around here. You haven’t seen the depths of wickedness these Titans live in here in Kallerish City. This place is a villainous hive of scum and depravity. Gangers and robbers, pirates and pimps…” The Wolverine waved his arms out to indicate the passing Titans who were slowing to gawk at the squabble. “All of these Titans would just as soon twist a knife in yer gullet than give you a helping paw.”

Rocky’s face twisted as he began to recount some of the various Titans he and his brothers had run across in the past few days. Some of what this Titan was saying had truth to it, no doubt, but still…

“Killing the defenseless is still wrong, and that Catus reaper was bigger and stronger and that poor Titan didn’t even have a chance to fight back.” Rocky argued.

“That Titan…” The Wolverine pulled up a holo-display, and a fully 3D wanted poster popped into the air and showed a familiar now deceased Marten, the one the Reaper had killed at the bar. “…Was a despicable blight of this city. He was a pimp who ran a pupling sex brothel full of pupling female slaves that had been kidnapped! We’ve been trying to track them down for months, somewhere in one of these AstroBlocs.”

Rocky’s heart sank in his chest. He wanted to argue, every fiber of his being did, but his eyes were already scanning the charges listed in the official Zenith Corp archived post still floating in the air before him. The Wolverine was not lying.

“So, this shitbag turkey goes and runs up a two-hundred and fifty thousand credit tab with Bio-Dynamics to extend his pathetic life and get some implants that make it easier for him to victimize other Titans. And then he thinks he can get away with not even paying for them? Free enhancements for a pimple like that to continue being a pimple? Well, I’m sorry friend, but I can’t abide.”

Rocky now felt like a terrible Titan. The deceit and treachery that these city dwellers breathed like air was largely over his head, and he did not understand it. He wanted to apologize now, and maybe the other Titan could see it in him to possibly forgive…

“Fleas are fleas and should be stamped out, not helped.” The Wolverine sneered in his raspy voice.

“Curfew is now in order.” A lifeless automated female voice shrilled across a loudspeaker suddenly, filled with insincere pleasantness. “Get to your hab-units immediately or you will be in violation of Zenith Corp law.”

Many of the dumbfounded Titans who were gathered on the street-walks looked confused as a line of Trade Alliance Security Officers and automated security units began to march down the street. A moment ago, they were about to cheerily watch a mauling in broad daylight and now the authorities were ordering them inside.

“This is not a drill.” The sickeningly upbeat tone of the loudspeaker continued, as though it sensed the indecisiveness in the crowds. “Lower South Market District is now closed. You have one hour to comply before you are in violation of Zenith Corp law. Lethal force has been authorized. This is not a drill…” The speaker kept repeating.

“You two!” A TASO soldier in full body armor came striding over, as the message continued playing, flanked by a couple Trade-Alliance battle robots. “Are you having some sort of a scuffle in the road here? Move along!”

Rocky turned toward the Wolverine, who by the look on his face did not seem to take kindly to being ordered. He snarled at the officer, baring his dangerous teeth. Something bad was about to happen, for sure.

“Stuff it you tail-waggers! You don’t come into my district and tell me what to do. I’m an official Bio-Dynamics Repossession Agent. Get bent.”

The TASO snarled back, immediately his fur was ruffled and his ego bruised. His sterile white with blue accents E-Rifle was leveled, and the two robots flanking him prepared themselves as well. This sent the Wolverine into a rage. He bounded the large distance between them in a single leap and immediately set upon tearing his opponents to shreds with his deadly claws.

Rocky’s mouth dropped open at the sudden ferocious lethality of the reaper. He had the distinct suspicion that the Mustelid had been playing with him earlier and could have probably gutted him in an instant had he so chose. A bullet zinged by him, drawing him instantly back to his surroundings. He spotted his fallen E-Pistol and dove for it.

“Full auto.” Rocky commanded, completing a front roll and coming up with his gun ready.

Rocky took aim at another robot behind these three, who had begun firing, and shot a burst at its head. His bullets tore through the frame but did not destroy the processor within. Rocky dove aside from a return exchange, hiding behind a steel rubbish compartment. The bullets pinged off the strong, hollow metal structure and sounded almost like piano keys. He managed to lean out and fire a few more volleys, eventually destroying the processor in the unit’s “head” and putting it out of commission.

By the time he had taken down the one ‘bot, the Wolverine had destroyed all three of the others, along with two more that had been too close to the rampage and now stood screaming on the curb, drawing the attention of the entourage of soldiers passing by. Dozens were moving to surround him, and Rocky knew that even a cyborg would not stand a chance against those numbers. Reluctantly, he switched the manual toggle to turn his flight pack on. The enraged little reaper would at least provide a distraction for him to make an escape.

“Fl…er.” Only the moment Rocky went to speak the command to launch his pack into the air, he found himself unable to speak the word. He looked once more at the valiant Wolverine, who was now stuck in the middle of a proper brawl. He was not exactly losing yet either, with a pile of junk metal from destroyed bots laid at his boots. Rocky took a deep breath.

“I can’t believe I’m gonna do this.” He admonished himself. “Fly!”

Immediately the pack jumped to life, propelling him forward. Instead of pointing his body up, he pointed himself parallel to the ground. Rocky flew straight into the crowd of gathering Trade Alliance Security forces and reached out…plucking the Wolverine from the fray as he passed.

No sooner had they sped away from the scene, a blast went off approximately where the Mustelid had been fighting, that probably would have blown his Titan parts to bits. Rocky leaned back and aimed upwards, flying him and the Wolverine into the sky and high above the robots who were now all lighting up the sky shooting up at them.

“What are you doing?” The frantic maniac frothed at Rocky, clearly still hungry for a fight. “Put me back down…how are you flying right now? Are we flying?”

“I’m saving your life you bloody little nutter. But the sun’s fiery hells knows why!”