“Hey kid, wanna make some money?”
Ketron glanced over his shoulder, unsure if the voice was speaking to him or not.
“Yeah, you. Do you want to make some money? the man repeated.”
Ketron looked around, wary of getting mugged. He saw an attractive woman hanging off the man’s shoulder. He took a step forward and sized up to couple. The man was shorter than average height, and the skin of his face was rough and had several scars. The man has several facial piercings and long black hair with neon green highlights. His clothing was plain and made up of dark colored fabrics that hung over his shoulders. It would be easy for him to hide something under the cloak, like a gun.
She wore a similar outfit, but the draping fabrics she wore didn’t hide the curves of her hips or legs. Her hair was shaved on the sides and a long mob of black and pink hair hung over her left shoulder. Her lips and face were accented with pink makeup.
“Maybe,” Ketron replied.
“I see you come by here every day. Coming home from school?”
Ketron didn’t answer, and the man smirked. “Fine. You’re, which means you can hide in the crowd. I need someone to…”
“If I’m so small how did you see me?” Ketron asked, frowning and glancing over His shoulder again. Is he lying or up to something else?
The man chuckled. “Look up.”
Ketron shifted his gaze upward to the gangways that ran parallel to the market and crisscrossed it at regular intervals.
“When you stand up there, you can see a lot. Even the small runts like you.”
“I’m not a runt,” Ketron snapped in protest. Then, he softened and asked, “What do you want me to do?”
The man smirked and raised his hands in mock surrender. “Sorry, kid. Didn’t mean to offend. I want you to deliver things to a friend on the other side of the market. I’ll pay you in credits. Whaddaya say, are you interested?”
“What’s the package?”
The strange couple chuckled. The woman raised her hand and rocked her index finger from side to side. “Tsk tsk tsk,” she uttered. “First rule of this business, don’t ask about the delivery. If you don’t know, you can’t squeal. And in this business, nobody likes squealer.”
“I’m not a squealer,” Ketron said, twisting his face with frustration. “I can be trusted.”
“I can see that,” the man said. “My name is Devron, and this is Nua. What’s yours?”
“That’s okay, kid, you don’t have to tell me today. So, are you in?”
“Who do I have to bring it to you?”
“You know the meat market on the other side of the Granok recruiter station?”
Ketron winced. “Mister Ithol’s place?
Devron chuckled. “Manners, I like that. Yeah, that’s the one.”
“That place is disgusting,” Ketron said.
“Yep, that’s the one. Don’t recommend it.”
“Do you want me to deliver meats to him?”
Devron shook his head. “Don’t ask about the package, but no, it’s not meat. Devron reached under his cloak and pulled out a small black box. There will be a man sitting at a table. He’s a fat, behemoth of a man with a bad comb-over and four fingers on his left hand.”
“How did he lose his finger?” Ketron asked.
“Don’t want to know, and neither do you.” Devron sternly said. “I need you to bring this package to him. I’ll pay you 10 credits.”
“Make it 15 and you’ve got yourself a deal.”
Devron smiled and traded glances with Nua.
“15 and you meet me here tomorrow, same time, and you run another package for me.”
“Deal,” Ketron said, holding out his hand. He took the package from Devron, and held out his other hand for the credits. Nua reached under her garments and proffered 15 credits. With the transaction complete, Ketron stepped back, ready to leave. “I’ll you tomorrow,” he said, and turned to leave.
Ketron hesitated. “Yeah?”
“Remember to look up. Always know who’s watching.”