Zeph sat forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “You available?”
“Depends.”
“I have funds.”
Raphael laughed. “That’s not the problem. You’re a wanted man. If I wanted funds all I’d have to do is tell whoever is after you that you called me.”
Raphael’s smugness did little for him. Zeph balled his hands into fists. “What do you want then?”
“A favor for a favor, my friend.”
Zeph cracked his fingers. “I don’t have any favors left in me. Name something else.”
“What? Not even for old time’s sake? Did you know there’s a rally going on at Elyrian’s middle square? Ever since the network painted you as a thieving, deviant villain—with proclivities toward children—the people are calling in for every Cyborg’s head. Low profile, Borg. A low profile with a vast reputation is the only way to live in our business.”
The fact that Raphael compared himself to Cyborg-kind at all was insulting. The guy may be his quickest in for a new ship, but it didn’t mean he liked the man. He liked few men, but that was beside the point.
“I need a new ship,” Zeph said, keeping his tone neutral. “Tomorrow.”
“So does everybody else.”
“I have eight one-of-a-kind pyrizian guns I can give you, with enough overall metal to be reused in a full cybernetic limb.”
Raphael inhaled sharply over the line.
Pyrizian was one of the rarest resources in the universe. The only place the metal could be harvested was on a dead star near Loxuria, but that was during the beginning of the great intergalactic war, and it had been harvested out for many years. Despite hundreds of prospectors and excavators searching for more, none had ever been found. It was what his kind was made of: the strongest, most durable, and sentient-adaptable metal in the all of existence.
No one invested in gold anymore. Everyone invested in pyrizian, but he couldn’t traverse space riding a pair of pistols. He needed a new ship.
“Do we have a deal?” he asked.
“Eight you say?”
“In perfect condition, with several boxes of ammunition included. I will hand deliver them myself if the ship is re-documented and ready for me by tomorrow.”
“That’s a lot to ask for on such short notice, Cyborg—”
“Do we have a deal?”
“Come to the club tonight, bring the weapons along, and we’ll talk.”
Zeph looked up at the painted angelic motif on the ceiling and sighed. Lily and Mr. Heartface were now playing Marco Polo in the pool.All of this for them.
This must be what it was like having a family.
“I’ll kill you and torch the place if you pull anything,” he warned, his voice lowering. His eyes landed on the kitchen. He needed to make sure his females were fed.
“You take me for an idiot?” Raphael said. “I thought we had more than that between us. You know my other offer still stands. I can provide more than ships if you work for me.”
“Tonight, then, Raphael. I’ll be there.”
“Bring the girl.”
Fuck no.“No.”
“Bring her or it’s off.” The comm ended.
Zeph’s nostrils flared, and his hands curled into fists.
