central concourse with a bemused expression, blinking.
"Listen, Harvey," Johnny held up the vinyl disc with a good-natured grimace, "You sure we can't give you something for this? I'd feel like a heel, just taking it off your hands."
"No, no, don't be silly!" Harvey's slightly confused grin threatened to decapitate him. "I won't hear of it! Think of it as a gift, eh?"
"You're all heart, Harv."
"If you say so, Mr Alpha. Where you boys headed next?"
Johnny threw a sidelong glance at Kid Knee - the hunched figure continued to stare vacantly into space, not listening. Johnny had planned to "accidentally" forget to take him along. Given that his discernible lack of a head was liable to make him stand out amongst a crowd (and that his binge-drinking had already cost them a very expensive rental-car deposit), it seemed only sensible to... take a break. But, as always, Johnny's pity flared up to engulf him: the Kid's downturned expression had about it the air of a puppy expecting to be kicked and Johnny couldn't bring himself to be the kicker.
"Earth, Harvey," he said, not looking back at the officer. "My partner and I are going to Earth."
Back in the office, Harvey sank into the folds of his haemorrhoid-configured easychair. He felt vaguely as though he'd been drinking.
There was something he'd been meaning to do. Something about money, maybe? Nothing was forthcoming from the depths of his mind, so he shrugged and peeled the remains of his sandwich off the console.
Dataviews from cameras across the Doghouse sparkled before him. On the screens, ogres chatted affably with hairy abominations, too-many-limbed muties arm-wrestled boredly, a crowd of optimistic freakos watched the crime report channel on the off chance of a big bounty announcement. Harvey replaced the sandwich on the side; his appetite had gone.
"Got nothing against 'em," he mumbled, as if to justify himself. "Just... wouldn't want one marrying my sister, that's all I'm saying."
On the central screen, Johnny Alpha and his pet freak strolled towards the departure lounge. The GCC ran a two-hourly transport service between London and the Doghouse, allowing staff to commute and tourists to ride from the surface. Since the previous day, when that sneckawful fly-on-the-wall documentary with Nickle Reggo had aired, ticket sales had gone through the roof. Harvey was already learning to find malicious enjoyment watching the visitors wondering about on the cameras. They came expecting excitement, weirdness, cutting edge technology, the fight against crime, blah, blah, blah. What they got was a rather bland space station with dodgy heating, no good restaurants and a sneckload of mutants doing nothing - and all for fifty creds a ticket. Suckers.
Again, the feeling that he'd forgotten something relating to money.
His thoughts were neatly incised by a slow knocking at the door.
"Yes? Come in."
The portal swung open with a creak. It had never done that before.
"Oh." Harvey found himself relieved that he was already sitting down. "Mr Stix."
"Yeah."
"C-can I... ah." He swallowed. "L-look, I don't know what you're... Y-you shouldn't still be here, Stix. Way I heard it, you killed another Dog in cold blood!"
"Didn't kill him."
Harvey tried on his best smirk. "So how do you explain the fact that he's dead?"
Stix blinked. Slooowly. Harvey's smirk faltered.
"Geek fell over. Suffocated on air. Not my problem."
"S-sneck it, Stix! What do you want?"
"Seen Alpha. Here. Just left. Looked busy."
"S-so?"
"He on a job, Harvey?" Stix stepped deeper into the room, lidded gaze doing unpleasant things to Harvey's bladder.
"W-what's it to you?"
"Concerned friend. Want ta... watch his back."
"Pull the other o-"
"Who's he chasin', Harv?"
"Grinn! Sneckssakes, Grinn!"
The killer was so close Harvey could almost feel the cold radiating off him. His eyes smouldered, like embers at the heart of a mausoleum.
The lip curled. "Grinn?"
Harvey's powers of speech deserted him. He
"Listen, Harvey," Johnny held up the vinyl disc with a good-natured grimace, "You sure we can't give you something for this? I'd feel like a heel, just taking it off your hands."
"No, no, don't be silly!" Harvey's slightly confused grin threatened to decapitate him. "I won't hear of it! Think of it as a gift, eh?"
"You're all heart, Harv."
"If you say so, Mr Alpha. Where you boys headed next?"
Johnny threw a sidelong glance at Kid Knee - the hunched figure continued to stare vacantly into space, not listening. Johnny had planned to "accidentally" forget to take him along. Given that his discernible lack of a head was liable to make him stand out amongst a crowd (and that his binge-drinking had already cost them a very expensive rental-car deposit), it seemed only sensible to... take a break. But, as always, Johnny's pity flared up to engulf him: the Kid's downturned expression had about it the air of a puppy expecting to be kicked and Johnny couldn't bring himself to be the kicker.
"Earth, Harvey," he said, not looking back at the officer. "My partner and I are going to Earth."
Back in the office, Harvey sank into the folds of his haemorrhoid-configured easychair. He felt vaguely as though he'd been drinking.
There was something he'd been meaning to do. Something about money, maybe? Nothing was forthcoming from the depths of his mind, so he shrugged and peeled the remains of his sandwich off the console.
Dataviews from cameras across the Doghouse sparkled before him. On the screens, ogres chatted affably with hairy abominations, too-many-limbed muties arm-wrestled boredly, a crowd of optimistic freakos watched the crime report channel on the off chance of a big bounty announcement. Harvey replaced the sandwich on the side; his appetite had gone.
"Got nothing against 'em," he mumbled, as if to justify himself. "Just... wouldn't want one marrying my sister, that's all I'm saying."
On the central screen, Johnny Alpha and his pet freak strolled towards the departure lounge. The GCC ran a two-hourly transport service between London and the Doghouse, allowing staff to commute and tourists to ride from the surface. Since the previous day, when that sneckawful fly-on-the-wall documentary with Nickle Reggo had aired, ticket sales had gone through the roof. Harvey was already learning to find malicious enjoyment watching the visitors wondering about on the cameras. They came expecting excitement, weirdness, cutting edge technology, the fight against crime, blah, blah, blah. What they got was a rather bland space station with dodgy heating, no good restaurants and a sneckload of mutants doing nothing - and all for fifty creds a ticket. Suckers.
Again, the feeling that he'd forgotten something relating to money.
His thoughts were neatly incised by a slow knocking at the door.
"Yes? Come in."
The portal swung open with a creak. It had never done that before.
"Oh." Harvey found himself relieved that he was already sitting down. "Mr Stix."
"Yeah."
"C-can I... ah." He swallowed. "L-look, I don't know what you're... Y-you shouldn't still be here, Stix. Way I heard it, you killed another Dog in cold blood!"
"Didn't kill him."
Harvey tried on his best smirk. "So how do you explain the fact that he's dead?"
Stix blinked. Slooowly. Harvey's smirk faltered.
"Geek fell over. Suffocated on air. Not my problem."
"S-sneck it, Stix! What do you want?"
"Seen Alpha. Here. Just left. Looked busy."
"S-so?"
"He on a job, Harvey?" Stix stepped deeper into the room, lidded gaze doing unpleasant things to Harvey's bladder.
"W-what's it to you?"
"Concerned friend. Want ta... watch his back."
"Pull the other o-"
"Who's he chasin', Harv?"
"Grinn! Sneckssakes, Grinn!"
The killer was so close Harvey could almost feel the cold radiating off him. His eyes smouldered, like embers at the heart of a mausoleum.
The lip curled. "Grinn?"
Harvey's powers of speech deserted him. He
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