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The man seated opposite him laughed before taking a sip from his glass. He was on his third glass, While Alex was on his second. The stuff in it was strong and while he'd taken a detox injection as soon as they landed, there was a limit to how much alcohol it could handle. And the stuff was bitter.

The man shook his head. "Come on, tell me again how you captured Tristan, make it the truth this time."

Alex sighed, as if he was finally resigning himself and started on yet another variation of the story he'd told him the first time. This was the fifth rendition. He had six others, the last one being the 'true one.'

"Hold up," the man interrupted him. "I thought you only had two helpers."

Alex shrugged. That had been the previous version, where he'd finally admitted he hadn't worked alone. "You really think two mercs would be enough to take him down? There were eight of us. I'm the only one who made it out in one piece."

"And you're going to share the bounty with the surviving ones, of course."

Alex smiled and took a sip from his glass. He forced himself not to react to the horrible taste. Ultimately, if this went on long enough his last story would finally see him admit how he'd actually stolen the prize from a team of twenty mercs.

"Go on, so the eight of you finally tracked him down to the seedier part of Olun City."

Alex described how they'd surrounded the building where their information said Tristan was holed up, but the Samalian had somehow known they were coming and attacked first.

A woman's voice interrupted him. "Yes! I knew it!"

The scarred faced man looked beyond Alex, and he turned around. The woman who'd frisked Tristan was holding up his belt triumphantly.

"What's got you so excited Viv?"

"This." She turned the belt to show them the clasp. It was open, revealing a compartment holding small tools. "I'm sure there's more, but I haven't figured it out yet."

"I'm surprised you didn't take his pants too," the burly man next to her said. He was beyond pale, his skin was almost pure white, with hints of a design under his shirt.

"What am I going to do with his pants if he isn't in them?"

Alex looked the people over. This was his first opportunity to really study them. Viv was toned, in a brown bodysuit with an armored jacket over it. Her gigantic rifle was leaning against the wall while she worked with the belt.

The black man next to her was Charles, he had loose black pants and a ripped shirt. He had a gun on each hip. They looked familiar, but Alex couldn't place them. Tristan had forced him to learn makes and models, but that hadn't stuck. They were just guns as far as Alex was concerned. He didn't need to know who made one to take it apart and test the components.

Leaning against the other wall was the other woman, lighter skinned than Charles, she looked bored. She had a gun on her hip and one under her shoulder. Alex could hear a computer making calibrations as she readjusted her position. She had a cybernetic leg, he guessed based on the timing of the commands he heard.

The white man had more guns than Tristan tended to carry when on a job; one under each shoulder, each hip, two in the front harness, the butt of another one poked over from his back. He had a small holster on his left ankle, and almost as an afterthought, his right one had a knife strapped to it.

The man next to him was lean under the bulky clothing. He carried stun sticks at his hips instead of guns, and when he looked at Alex he smiled menacingly.

Try harder, Alex thought, you live with Tristan for over five years and you'll see that little scares you anymore. He still acted scared, moving to the last man.

Medium brown skin, long dirty hair and bobbing his head to some music Alex couldn't hear. There were no computers on him, so it was in his head, if it was there at all. He held a rifle in his arms and had a gun on his hip.

And there was the man seated across from him. Scarred face, graying hair cut short. He looked relaxed, but there was an air of menace to him. Alex got a sense these people were more gang than unit, and that this man was in charge because he'd beaten everyone else into submission.

"Impressed by them?"

Alex had hoped he'd been quick in his observations, but clearly, not fast enough. He smiled uncomfortably. "They look dangerous."

The man laughed.

Alex forced the smile to remain, even if it made his face feel weird. The treatment he'd undergone to rejuvenate his face had left the skin smooth, but feeling like it might crack. He couldn't wait for this to be done so he could have it reversed.

The man added alcohol to both their glasses. "Let's get back to your story."

"It isn't a story, it's how it happened."

"Sure it is." He took a sip. "Let me tell you, if you ever decide to give up on the life, you should become a storyteller, you have a talent for it.

Alex sighed. "Look, what does it matter how I caught him? I'm the one who brought him here, right? So I'm the one who gets to collect on the bounty. I just want my money so I can pay off what I owe."

"Right, the bounty. See, there's a problem with that." The man tapped the desk. Nothing happened. He pounded on it a few times and the display appeared. Then he typed again.

Alex listened to the computer. It was old. Possibly as old as the complex itself. Alex could barely understand its language. He was happy none of the plan required him coercing it, because he doubted he could do that.

"There." A list appeared. The man highlighted an entry. "Tristan is currently being held on The Sayatoga Prison ship. He's been there for a few decades according to this."

Alex rolled his eyes. "Come on, everyone knows those things aren't accurate. No prison wants to admit they lost a prisoner. Tristan was IDed seven, eight years ago? He kidnapped that kid. Got everyone in an uproar for some reason. If he did that, he wasn't in any prison."

The man shook his head. "This isn't the public list. This is the one that only prison masters get to see. Specifically so that no one can hand over a prisoner and claim he's a high value one, when he's already been caught."

"He was identified in that kidnapping."

"Mis-identified. Maybe you got the kidnapper, I doubt it, but maybe. But that alien wasn't Tristan. The Sayatoga confirmed he was still there right after that. So it's just someone who looks like him. For all I know his species all look alike."

"Then do a DNA scan, I'm telling you, that's Tristan."

The man laughed. "Do we look like we're equipped to do something like that? You should have done it before getting here, you would have known not to bother. Actually, my guess is that you did check. You know that isn't him, and you were hoping to con us."

"Come on, do I look like I'd try to con you? With them around?"

The man smiled. "You think I can't tell when someone got his face redone? You really think that the innocent new bounty hunter act was going to work?"

Alex slumped back, not acting. If they didn't believe that, he didn't have a script to work from anymore. What was he supposed to do? Kill them now? The plan called for him to wait for the signal, but they were going to end up dead anyway, so why not now?

As he thought about it he saw the panel next to the lift's door light up, and then the lift started down.

Alex jumped over the desk, pulling out one of the composite knives from his sleeve and embedding it in the man's throat. He continued behind him and pulled him up by the collar as shots fired. He moved back, taking the gun out of the man's holster. He shot Viv first. The rifle was the most dangerous in this enclosed space.

There was a lull in the firing and Alex moved out from behind his shield, letting him lean against the wall, protecting the lift's controls.

Five against one in a closed room. Anyone in this situation would expect to die, but he wasn't anyone. He was Alex fucking Crimson. He survived Tristan on a daily basis, and he was easily worth a dozen of them.

He ducked under the desk and lifted it, throwing it at Charles. He fired at the white man but only caught him in the shoulder.

He ducked and weaved, firing at where he'd last seen the people. He felt burns on his back and arms, but the light armored clothing took the brunt of the blasts.

His gun stopped firing, out of power. Alex didn't bother cursing. He pulled out his other knife. Caught motion and slashed. A foot slammed in his side and he went flying across the room. He hit the wall and rolled as it was peppered with blasts. Specks of superheated metal and rock burned his face, he could smell his hair burn.

He threw himself at the closest person, a man, lots of guns. He felt a blast graze his shoulder and then he was close enough to slam his knife in the man's chest six times, leaving him gasping, and then slumping down.

He caught him, pushed him toward the next target. Male, thin, armored.

He saw her in his peripheral vision just before she kicked and he let himself fall. The foot went over him. He rolled and sliced the tendons in her other leg's heel. With a scream she dropped.

He was back up, the thin man was pushing the other one off him. Alex slammed his knife into the man's ear, the only unarmored spot. He didn't try to pull it out, he grabbed the one at the man's ankle. And with a quick motion he cut the woman's throat open.

He turned and faced the white man and Charles. He grinned at them, and they looked at him in horror. The white man had his gun pointed at Alex, but his hand was shaking. Charles looked around the room, then at Alex, who was burned and bloody. He turned and ran for the door.

The knife Alex threw was in his back before Charles reached it. He fell to the floor, gasping and tried to crawl for it.

Alex fixed his gaze on the white man. He hadn't stopped smiling and the terror just made him happier. He walked to him, unafraid. The man was frozen in place. This wasn't something he'd ever expected to go through. He was ready to deal with the prisoners breaking out, a horde of deranged people trying to kill them, but one person? It had never occurred to him that one man could massacre them all.

Alex placed his hand on the gun and pushed it down. Even through the smell of blood, he could tell the man had lost control of himself. Alex took the gun out of the man's hand, and without bothering to look shot Charles in the back.

He dropped the gun and took the knife from the sheath at the white man's waist. It had a good weight to it. Alex didn't bother checking if it was nano-edge, or laser. It didn't matter. He didn't need anything special for this.

The man pleaded with his eyes since he couldn't get his mouth to work. Alex didn't care. It was kill or be killed, and he was doing the killing today.

Everyday.

He pulled the knife out of the man's chest and the lifeless body slumped to the floor.

Alex looked at the carnage, and now that the moment was done, felt a hint of revulsion at what he'd done. He almost wished this had been a loss of control, but he'd been in charge the entire time. He'd decided to kill them. It had been easy.

Tristan had made sure of that.

Sparks attracted his attention. The man he'd put in front of the lift's control had fallen over and the panel was gone, leaving a hole with wires sparking.

He sighed. Tristan wasn't going to be happy about that.