Jack Payton, one of the two founders of Emergency Defense Group Enterprise, was born in 776 A.S. in Texas system. Little else is known about his past before he emerged as a successful bounty hunter shortly after the Nomad War. Some say that before the War Payton was a pirate involved in cardamine smuggling, while others maintain that he was a Liberty Security Force officer discharged during the Nomad incursion. There is no doubt, however, that in 801 A.S. Payton became well known as a co-leader of a bounty hunter death squadron called White Eagles. Payton and his wing-men became widely known as superior fighter pilots mercilessly hunting pirates across both weakened Houses and wild Border Worlds. However, in 803 A.S., after two years filled with successful contracts, Payton felt that he lost his edge and retired. During this period, he consistently stayed out of dangerous bounty hunting until he met Walter Sobchak in 813 A.S. For about three years Payton and Sobchak worked in tandem as independent bounty hunters until they accumulated enough resources to launch the Enterprise in 816 A.S. For about three years Payton was co-leading the company, largely contributing to its successes in Upper Taus, Lower Omegas and Cortez-Magellan corridor. In 819 A.S. Payton left the Enterprise, shortly before a contract with the Independent Mining Guild was signed. Not much is known about what happened to him after he left the company. Some say that after the Enterprise was liquidated he became an independent mercenary, others claim that he was repeatedly seen drunk at the Java station.
Jack Payton was very reluctant to talk about his past prior to becoming a bounty hunter. Even Walter Sobchak did not know exactly what he was doing before. However, once after a bloody skirmish with Lane Hackers in Magellan, in which EDGE lost two gunships with their whole crews, Walter took Payton to Curacao to sink the defeat in several bottles of whiskey. Something cracked in Payton on that day, as he decided to tell Walter his story.
- I was a young hot shot back then. Straight after the Academy. You know, a type of naive kid buying every patriotic bullsh** sold by politicians... and commanders too - Payton paused for a moment. Lightnings of hate struck from his eyes. He emptied his glass and continued.
- She was a senior officer, hell of a good looking lass. You know, a typical LSF, cold ice on the surface, teddy bear inside. I will spare you the pathetic poetry. It was it. But then all the sh** happened - Payton took the second bottle of whiskey and filled up the empty glasses. Walter felt that interrupting the monologue would be inappropriate.
- I was there when the Order blown Schultzky out of the Manhattan's sky. Nobody knew what was really happening. For us it was just another spectacular act of terror that will probably result in some military intervention. But then government banned all artifacts from Liberty. We were loaded with work. Mainly intercepting small amounts of contraband. I tell you, they were not smugglers. Just collectors or unfortunate bastards who were in a wrong place at a wrong time. The command issued order to bust them all. Some of them were charged with treason. Everyone in my unit felt that something is going terribly wrong here. But nobody knew what it was - Payton paused, took a deep breath and continued.
- We were on a patrol in the New York's Badlands. Just the two of us and our wing leader. Suddenly we got a distress call. Renegade navy cruisers were trying to breach Zone 21. It was surreal, even for the contemporary standards. Command was sending there everything they had. Our wing leader, major Jenkins, ordered to set a new course. She formed on him and at point blank range put an EMP directly into his engines...
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- What the frakk you're doing? - shouted Lieutenant Payton still not believing his eyes. Jenkins' ship was disabled by the EMP blast.
- I am saving your life, Jack - she replied, but her ship suffered from the proximity of the blast and she was not able to disable his ship too.
- What the hell you're talking about? - Payton was still confused, but military training kicked in. He quickly disabled safety lock and moved on her six. On various channels reports from the battle within Zone 21 were heard.
- Kill her, Payton! She's working with them! She's working for the Order! - shouted major Carl Jenkins from a drifting fighter. Everything but the life support and comms in his ship was toasted.
- Jack, it's not what you think. Believe me, we are not terrorists - she said while slowly regaining control over her ship. Someone was requesting immediate backup, others were reporting heavy causalities.
- Cut your engines now. You will explain it before the court - shouted Payton. Only official cliches were able to hide how desperate he was.
- No, you don't understand. There will be no court. They will kill me or worse! I can't take that risk - she was trying to buy herself more time.
- Don't listen to her, kill that bitch you prick! - Jenkins was still shouting with anger.
- Jack, I don't want to fight you. Please come with me! I will explain you everything. I am engaging cruise engines now... - her ship's cruise drive started to load.
- If you won't stop her, Payton, I will have you court-martialed - Jenkins decided to use threats.
- I repeat cut your engines now! - Payton knew that his requests were hopeless now. She was committed.
- For frakkin sake, our men are dying there! - Jenkins was screaming with resignation. Cruise drive was loaded. Her ship started to accelerate. Whole shaking, Payton, pressed the fire button. In the cockpit of cruising fighter suddenly alarm sounded warning for incoming missiles.
- I am sorry Jack...
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- ...she whispered just before two missiles hit her ship. With the shield generator burned out after the close EMP discharge her ship exploded instantly giving her no time to eject. When I finally got to the Zone 21 squids were everywhere. I engaged them but was shot down by our own forces. I was charged with treason, but they were probably too busy to execute me. Three weeks later Jacobi announced the amnesty and rehabilitation - Payton put down the glass on a table. It was full.
- I should have gone with her... - he added afterwards.
- What was her name? - Walter decided to break his silence, but Payton did not answer him.
He was silent.
written by Guszaban
This character is retired. Associated forum account is disabled.
Rooms for rent on Sheffield Station were rather primitive. No decorations, modest cabinet, small table, locker and surprisingly comfortable bed. Certainly it was not an apartment aboard a royal liner. But it was enough for Payton. He was lying naked on the bed. A drop of sweat was slipping down from his forehead into eyebrow. He was not alone. A woman lying next to him noticed the drop and gently wiped it out. She was nearly twenty years younger than him. She had long black hair, deep brown eyes and freckles on her cheeks. She was not a stunning beauty, but there was something in her that attracted Payton and he was somewhat growing attached to her. Woman grabbed the bedding and covered her youthful breasts. Her real name was Ellen. But her customers usually knew her only by her professional nickname, Mrs Freckles.
- Tell me what happened next - Ellen stretched her arms sensually.
- What? - Payton pretended that he didn't know what she was talking about. He momentarily regretted that he made from her his personal confessor last time they met.
- After you were released... - Ellen cast away the bedding and ordered Payton to roll over.
- Why do you want to know it? - Payton asked. He did not know her motivation and was afraid. But situation was already beyond his control. He could only obediently follow her orders.
- Does a whore cannot be curious? - she sat on his back and started massaging his neck and arms - Please, Jack... indulge me - she added slowly.
Payton knew that he utterly lost this battle and could do nothing but to fulfill her request. As the images from the past were passing before his mind's eye, Payton continued his story.
- After the amnesty I was reinstated as a LSF officer. They even promoted me to a captain. You know, I don't really remember this period very well. I was in a kind of amok, a mixture of rage and apathy. I remember that I had seriously beaten up Jenkins, but it didn't really help. I wasn't really angry on him, I was angry on myself... no... I hated myself. I don't even remember whether they discharged me for an assault on a senior officer or I just quit myself. I couldn't stay in Liberty. I had to move on. But next months were even worse. I was traveling with freighters from base to base, mainly gambling, drinking and getting into bar brawls. Eventually I landed up on Freeport 9 with no credits, no ship and no job...
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***
- Come on, just a one drink. I will repay you, I promise - Payton was trying to convince the bartender. He was buying drinks on tick for a week now.
- Get out of the line, navy boy - a muscular Corsair behind Payton put a hand on his shoulder.
- Get your hands of me - Payton turned back. Corsair was at least a head taller.
- Or what? - he asked but Payton didn't intend to answer. Ex-LSF kicked the Cretan in his groin, grabbed his head and smashed it on a knee. Cretan fell unconscious on a floor. His two friends rushed from their table towards Payton. Ex-LSF grabbed a nearby chair and thrown it at them, punching the Corsair who grabbed it in the face. The other one had enough time to sneak behind Payton and clutch him. Ex-LSF lifted his legs and kicked Corsair, who just hit his nose. After that Payton whacked with his head Cretan who was grabbing him and released himself from the clutch. Freeport 9 had very simple rules concerning the bar brawls. As long as nobody was killed or seriously injured they were tolerated. And if that happened everyone involved was just flushed out of the airlock. It seemed to work. Despite all of this, fourth Corsair still sitting at a table took out his sidearm and aimed it at Payton. Suddenly a characteristic sound of disabling a safety lock on a gun was heard.
- You had your fun, now be a good boy, lower you weapon and tell your friends to go back to the table - said a bounty hunter holding a gun at Cretan's head. After a second of thought Corsair lowered his weapon. Two Cretans standing near the bar helped the lying one to stand up. Payton rubbed his face with the sleeve and spit blood on a floor.
- One thing... - he said and beaten up Corsair turned his head back - I never served in the Navy... - The Brawl had officially ended.
A bounty hunter came to the bar - Marcus, give the man his drink. This one is on me - he said to the bartender and added - Let's have a chat, shall we? - Payton quickly grabbed two drinks and they sat at a nearby table. A bounty hunter sitting next to him was in his mid thirties. He had an ugly scar on his left cheek. Possibly a souvenir from one of his exploits.
- I suppose I should thank you. But I could have resolved it myself - Payton wasn't really happy to have a drink buddy. But it would be impolite to tell someone who just saved your life and bought you a drink to shove off.
- Yeah, I know you would try. You look like a someone who has nothing to lose - a bounty hunter said.
- And you look like a someone who wants to lose his teeth - Payton did not like his patronizing tone.
- Easy cowboy. Don't waste your breath. I am not here to fight you. I am here to offer you a job - mysterious hunter was not easily provoked.
- And who you are, mister? - Payton was quite confused. Not many things could surprise him and it was one of them.
- Derek, Derek Zayjack. I am looking for skilled combat pilots who won't piss themselves on a first sight of a fight - a bounty hunter introduced himself.
- How do you even know I am a pilot? - the bounty hunter was still surprising Payton.
- Captain Jack Payton, born in Texas, former LSF pilot, top three from his year at the West Point Academy, fought in the Nomad War, recently discharged and turning into a drunkard - hunter recited - Should I continue? Do you really think I would hire a loser like yourself without doing a proper background check? - he asked.
- And why you would hire a loser like myself at all? Losers solidarity? - Payton got back at Zayjack.
- You have a death wish written on your forehead. And she's very moody, you know? Maybe you will live long enough to make a fine bounty hunter after all. Either way it will be a win-win, right?
Payton sighed, logic of the hunter's argument was impeachable - Right...
***
***
- This is how I got into this business. Derek was a great mentor. Everything I know about hunting I learned from him. Don't understand me wrong. LSF are excellent pilots. But in the Border Worlds to survive you need something more than a military training... You need to know how to play really dirty... - Payton paused, pleasure blinded his thoughts for a moment. Ellen was a master at her work.
- There were six of us. Derek, Ed, Jacob, Karl, Michael and me. Best pilots I have ever flown with. Constant fear of death, rush of battle, killing and winning. We had it all. We felt like gods. We thought we were immortals. But they are all dead now - Payton paused - Funny thing, but I barely remember their faces - he added afterwards.
Ellen finished the massage. She lay beside Payton and covered them with the bedding. There was nothing more to say. They remained silent for the rest of the night. When Payton fell asleep, she quietly dressed herself and kissed him gently in his cheek.
- Good night, bounty hunter - she whispered and carefully left the room.
- Good night, Ellen - she couldn't hear it as she was already gone.
written by Guszaban
This character is retired. Associated forum account is disabled.
New London megalopolis was covering most of the planet's surface. Like many cities of this size it was incredibly diverse. From rich quarters belonging to aristocracy and business sharks, through vast suburbans inhabited by the middle class, to endless slums and districts of poverty, Brixton was the worst of them. Here beggars, bounty hunters, criminals, mercenaries and various lowlifes lived in a devilish equilibrium of aggression and fear. Possession of firearms in accordance with Bretonian traditions was strictly prohibited on the planet's surface. However, there was nobody to enforce it in Brixton, as Bretonia Police Authority was usually keeping their ground patrols out of this Godforsaken hellhole. And even if there was a patrol there, it would most likely ignore two armed man who were walking down Barnwell road.
- It should be somewhere here, Sir - a young man said after checking the map on his wrist PDA. His companion, tall and little beer bellied man in his mid forties, nodded in silence. It was eight o'clock in the morning, but it was dark as sun could barely reach lower tiers of the city. Street was empty excluding a mumbling beggar lying on a sidewalk. Occasional drops of rain were rarefying pool of vomits in which he was lying. Two men crossed over the beggar and approached the doors leading to a block of cheap flats. Young man chose a button on an entry phone but there was no answer.
- So what is so special about this one, Sir? - young man asked his superior.
- He was quite famous ten years ago, Pete. You're too young to remember it, but he was a co-leader of a death squadron, White Eagles, which wiped out Totenengels - older man replied.
- Totenengels? - young man called Pete wasn't really a big fan of history.
- Angels of Death. The Nomad War seriously weakened all the four houses. But it was Rheinland that got hit the hardest. It was not even because they lost their whole fleet. What was even more important, their military efforts brought the economy on the brink of collapse. To avoid bankruptcy, Rheinland government frozen prices and completely cut social expenses. High unemployment, general poverty and weakness of the governmental forces were perfect environment for crime to flourish. Numerous gangs were terrorizing civilians, paralyzing trade and bringing chaos to Rheinland. Angels of Death were the worst of them - older man explained patiently.
- So who they were? - Pete got interested by the story.
- Mostly Rheinlanders and some Kusarians, I think. They were specializing in smuggling cardamine between Sigma-13 and New Berlin long before Corsairs and Unioners finally cut it out, of course not refraining from occasional piracy and assassinations. They had hideout somewhere in Sigma-13. That is why Rheinland Federal Police couldn't risk a diplomatic scandal so shortly after the war with Kusari. So they hired White Eagles. There were six of them, I think. Angles had three times more pilots. I don't know the details of this operation, but I think they were observing their movements for a long time before they set up a trap. Can you imagine? They put a freighter with a nuclear device sending a distress call from the inside of a small gas pocket cloud. When Angels sent their raiding party to intercept it, White Eagles remotely detonated the bomb. Explosion ignited the whole cloud to go nova atomizing every ship within one hundred clicks. Shortly after White Eagles launched an attack on Angels' hideout killing everyone there- Pete's superior had a certain pleasure from telling this story, especially that nobody was answering the call.
- So why I haven't heard about them? - young bounty hunter inquired.
- Well, they became famous and got contracts all over Sirius. Bretonia, Liberty, Rheinland, even Kusari and Omicrons. For two years White Eagles were dancing waltz with the death. But the most funny thing about our profession is that, when you become famous for killing someone, someone else want to be famous for killing you. Eventually luck left them and they got massacred. Only one of them survived...
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***
Leo Getz was a fixer. A damn good one too. In underworld he earned a reputation as a good source of information and a reliable job broker. Leo was happy. Recently he earned quite a lot of credits. Two or three more jobs and he could retire. Leo finished shaving in a bathroom of his apartment in Los Angeles. When he was cleaning his face with water, he saw something in a mirror. He turned back and his face turned pale.
- Good evening, Leo - he heard before a punch knocked him unconscious. He woke up ten minutes later when cold water hit his face. He couldn't move as he was strapped to an armchair.
- You look like you have seen a ghost, Leo - said a man sitting in front of him.
- What... you're doing... Payton? - Leo stuttered. He was terrified.
- I am very bad liar, you know. So I will be honest with you. I am going to kill you tonight... - Payton wanted to continue his speech, but it was interrupted by a terrifying howl.
- Help! Someone help me! - Leo was screaming.
- Don't waste your breath, Leo. I placed sound dampeners all over your flat - said Payton - Calm down, Leo. Take a deep breath - he paused, and then inhaled and exhaled - That's right. There is no reason to panic. You cannot prevent it. Everything is beyond your control now - Payton was slowly breaking Leo.
- What do you want? I don't know anything! - Leo was trying to defend himself.
- Do you mind if I smoke? - Payton asked and lit a cigarette - You see, you sold us out, Leo. Last job was a fake. We got ambushed. You know this, of course. Now you will tell me everything you know about the people who hired you to do this. All right? - Payton drawn a cigarette.
- I don't know what you're talking about! - Leo started to panic.
- You disappoint me, Leo - Payton quickly draw out a knife and cut fixer's little finger. Without a delay he used a lighter to stop the bleeding. Leo was screaming at the top of his lungs. After a while screaming was replaced by sobbing. Payton gave Leo his cigarette.
- There is no point in dragging this any longer. Just tell me what I want to know - Payton sounded like a best friend trying to help his mate. He let Leo to finish the cigarette.
- I don't know much... - fixer was shaking - I was paid by Vincent Gallo. He was my contact. He works for the Lane Hackers. But I don't know who hired him for this job. I promise, I don't know anything more - he explained.
- I believe you. I will have a chat with this Gallo - Payton said calmly and drawn out his sidearm.
- Please, Payton. I am sorry, I am so sorry. Don't kill me, please! - Leo pleaded for his life.
- Leo - Payton paused - Have a decency.
Leo broke into tears and closed his eyes. He was shaking but said nothing more. Payton put the gun at his head, looked the other way, and pulled the trigger. Leo was dead, but it was only the beginning.
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***
- Sir, I think we will need to look for this guy somewhere else - said Pete after another unsuccessful call.
- You're wrong, Pete. We already found him. Check whether he has a keycard - said Pete's superior while pointing out a man lying on the sidewalk. Pete crouched near him and without concealing repulsion carried out the order.
- I've found it, sir! - Pete reported quickly. They swiftly opened the door, grabbed the lying man and dragged him into a bathtub in his flat. Older man turned on cold water and aimed the stream at drunkard's face.
- What the frakk?! - a man in a bathtub woken up but was disoriented.
- Jack Payton? - older man asked.
- Yeah... And who the frakk you are, mister? - Payton held his head. He barely came out of the bathtub and was tottering. He looked around and finally found a toothbrush lying on the floor.
- Walter Sobchak, your new employer - older man said. He was getting angry.
- It's a pleasure to meet you, sir - Payton slurred while he was brushing his teeth.
- Listen to me, you piece of junk! I don't care who you were and what you did. Maybe ten years ago you had some balls. Now you're nothing more than a drunken piece of sh**, begging for escort missions like a syphilitic prostitute for a customer. The Guild is drawing more and more forces out to the Omicrons. This is a chance for unassociated hunters. I am offering you your life back, goddammit! But if you won't pull yourself together, for all I care, you can rot here - Walter outburst in his characteristic way.
- Aye aye, sir. Will do, sir. Now get the frakk out of here and let me take a shower!
written by Guszaban
This character is retired. Associated forum account is disabled.
Noah was young IMG escort pilot, recently transferred from a mining wing to Java quick reaction forces. He was not really fond of his new assignment. Upper Taus were never a safe region, but ever since Gallia invaded Bretonia, Upper Taus turned into a full time death circus in which he could hope to be nothing more than a clown. IMG, while being arguably the most powerful company in the border worlds, had never grown their own class of elite pilots, relying mostly on the Colonial Republic, bounty hunters and mercenaries for protection in this rough region. Noah knew very well that his training and experience was not nearly sufficient for the job. He knew that the best he could do in a real fight was to buy his comrades several seconds, possibly enough for reinforcements to arrive. Possibly. Noah's chain of grim thoughts has been suddenly interrupted by the sound of broken glass. He glanced over the bar seeing a drunken pilot in his late forties trying to regain balance after falling onto the table full of glasses and bottles.
- At least I should do better than him... - said Noah laughing and pointing the drunkard who just fell on the floor. Joe, his squad leader, was not laughing.
- Do you know who that was? - he asked instead.
- No, should I?
- His name is Payton. Ex-bounty hunter. He killed more people than you have ever met - explained Joe to his younger friend.
- Really? What has happened to him? He's a total wreck... - Noah glanced over his shoulder just to notice that the old bounty hunter was being lugged out of the bar by a bouncer. Noah noticed also that the bouncer was not really brutal. It almost looked like he was doing a daily routine.
- Who knows? You don't live that long in this line of business and remain completely normal.
- Sometimes I think that these bounty hunters, these hired serial killers are no better than Outcasts or other scum that flock Taus. Don't understand me wrong, Joe. I know that without them we would already be out of here, in metal boxes, but...
- There's no but, Noah. They are who they are. Very few bounty hunters live long enough to retire. And if they do, they usually end up like this. Whatever they do, in the end they always loose.
- To loosers then - Noah raised his glass.
- To loosers - Joe joined his comrade - Aren't we all? - he wanted to add, but remained silent.
This character is retired. Associated forum account is disabled.
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