With a scorching sun coating him in a layer of slick sweat, Mason Lecroix stood in the middle of a permacrete, dust covered sidewalk. Not ten meters from him stood two grim-faced men in blue three-piece suits, their drugged, glazed over eyes a testament to their lack of natural courage. It was the kind of standoff he’d long ago grown accustomed to; the type where only one side would still be above ground come morning.
Slipping a sweat soaked hand to the small pulse pistol hidden in the back of his jeans; he waited for them to make the first move. When he noticed them reach into their jackets, for the guns bulging underneath, he knew it was time. Adrenaline fueled muscles moved faster than even he’d expected when he drew and fired. Two blue-white bolts raced the short distance between them, striking the men in the chest a microsecond before exploding in a gruesome shower of blood and bone.
Their shattered, lifeless bodies crumpled to the ground, sending a plume of dust puffing into the air. It was only then, he noticed the throng of people who’d been watching. The shocked looks and muffled cries of the bystanders, only served to bring to light the reality of where he was. On a planet at the rim of the galaxy, things went a little different from most places. Here, the only real justice was what you could get from the barrel of a gun.