Nickels and Nails

[Zapp]

Freeport 2, Bering system

"Hey Nickels, why don't you do that thing you do with a credit chip?"

At a circular table in a seedy bar, six men sat with two cards face down in front of each, as well as a stack of credit chips. "Nickels", a lithe man of 25, sat behind a generous stack of credits. He nodded to his brother, Josh, and picked a square chip with '5' imprinted on both sides from his stack. His eyes - brown to match his hair - took a far-off look as he deftly maneuvered the credit chip across the knuckles of his right hand. Nickels - or Jesse, as he is also called - surveyed the other four men at the table, thugs all. Most seemed to have not shaved in a week; one and all they had the glint of suspicion in their eyes - suspicion of too much winning. Nickels made brief eye contact with Josh - also called Nails - who gave an imperceptible nod, more the vertical flicker of his eyes than any head movement.

While his right hand had everyone's attention, his left was under the table, inching to the Double-Trigger Mini-Carbine, a small gun for the name from Detroit Munitions. Nails' right hand was under the table as well, no doubt easing into the ceramic dusters (think: brass knuckles). Nails gave another brief nod, and Nickels skipped to the end of his distraction - a roll from the pinky to the thumb, punctuated by flipping it like a coin.

On the flip, Nails, who was sitting directly across from Nickels, flipped the table to his right, knocking two of the guys momentarily out of commission whilst bringing the dusters out. His left hand darted for his ceramic switchblade - they passed most security undetected, and were stronger than steel. Nails got his moniker from being tough - he was as tall as Nickels, a lot wider, and all muscle. He jumped at the two to his left, while Nickels finished drawing his gun and jumped to his left, using the weapon more as a bludgeon than a gun. Rule #1 of bar fights: no guns.

About 15 seconds later, Nickels and Nails were at a dead run from the bar to the docking bay, Zoner security tight on their heels.

"I told you to leave your hustling and fast fingers over for once, Nickels, but do you listen? No..." Nails panted, a hint of a smile on Nickel's lips.

You know me cant resist

Rounding a corner, the duo came to the open doors to the landing bay. It was a largish room, filled with ships, mechanics, and the loud noise of hand-held welders, heavy machinery, and shouting that came with ships being under repair. Beyond the noise, it was easy to pick out their ships, parked next to each other in the exact middle of the floor. An Avenger and a Liberator. Both were devoid of any mechanics, showing their readiness for flight. Or maybe the deck hands hadnt gotten around to it, yet. Regardless, they jumped into the cockpits (Nails into the Avenger, Nickels into the Liberator) and slammed the engines in almost perfect unison, launching from the station in a fashion that more than likely violated any number of rules. The Zoner ships watched them fly out; firing a few warning shots but otherwise letting them go.

Their ships turned towards the trade lane to the Hamburg gate, and they flew on.

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