FYI: this chapter is written in first person. Courier chapter. "What do you want from me?!" Jesus this guy is pissing me off, I've been slapping him across the face with the butt of my magnum for 20 minutes. I was hired to beat the crap outta' this guy because apparently he has some "Vital information that is crucial to blah blah blah...". Point is, I got paid good money to beat the hell out of this poor little man. I stand up and flip the revolving chamber of the weapon open and reach into my pocket, put one round in the gun, flip it closed and spin the chamber around. The poor Guy's eyes light up and he tries to pull himself out of the chair I chained him to. "Quit squirming, or you'll be breathing through a new hole in your head!" I yell. I lean down right next to his face, And grab his head with my right arm and jerk his head right up to my helmet. "Look tikhar," i say to my shivering 'friend', "you seem like a decent enough person, for being an awoken. And I don't wanna make your life a living hell, so, if you just tell me where this um... 'Abzats' is; I won't have to murder you. Mhm 'k?" I think this threat finally got through to him, he swallows a giant thing of saliva and finally opens his damn gullet. "Ok, ok... He's at a um... He's in a place in the slums it's called D7." I smile Behind my face plate, "thanks buddy," he relaxes and settles himself down, and says, "So I can go now?" I put my hands up to my helmet's radio, and look over at Tikhar. "One sec." I hold down the communicator button and talk to my client. "Hello? Mr. Adams? I found where the Abzats is and am heading that way. However you might wanna come and get Tikhar, he's got a few broken ribs, a fractured skull and, possible brain damage. Oh, how'd that happen? He fell out of a window." Tikhar's face turns a bright red; "I expect my payment soon, goodbye." I stand waiting at an empty dirt lot for my ship the "Special delivery" to arrive. And my annoying-as-hell-partner-in-crime, Foxtrot the A.I. To arrive. After waiting for a few more minutes, it finally comes and slowly sets itself down on the ground, lowers the ramp and I walk on to the vessel. Almost instantaneously I hear a slightly high pitched female voice start to criticize me for my interrogation of the awoken man. "You know you shouldn't of done that, it was extremely inhuman." I shake my head. "Trot, I'm 37, and have been doing this for almost have that long, I think I would've decided if it was 'inhuman' or not, by now." I walk over to the wide cockpit room, and plop into my chair. Grab the steering wheel and flip the autopilot switch off. "Where to now?" Foxtrot asks. "How about the last city? The south end of town."