Blackout Part 9

“No. I mean, I know a guy. I woulda ran an’ got it for you. That stuff works pretty good though, good thing you had it.” She told him.

“Uh hu …” Vas tried getting to his feet again and wobbled. “... yea good think I had it.” Though he was sure it was a standard issue …. For what he was at a loss to say. “Point of fact. Bleeding is not fun.”

“You heal up fast,” Serena told him. “Good thing.”

“Yea … would be much good if I didn’t.” Vas said back to Serena. “Must nicked something important. He mumbled, still feeling a bit of acheness in his chest.

“At least we know you aren’t a Jagg,” she offered by way of compensation. “They don’t usually shoot their own.”

“I mean technically friendly fire is a thing.” Vas pointed out logically. “But no… I am definitely not one of those assholes. I have WAY better aim.” He said retroactively insulted at having been accused of being one of them. “And my boots are better.” He said adding salt to his perceived insult.

“So then you’re going back to your hellhound hq?” She asked.

Vas paused and was quiet for a long time. “Uhhhh … maybe?” He said trying to recall … anything HQ related. “... or not …” He said drawing nothing but blanks. Right now his head felt like one of those college classrooms in the movies with all those chalk boards but … they were all blank. Or like … shadows. When all the stuff gets erased and you could kind of see what was left but not quite. “Hellhounds have an HQ?”

Serena helped steady him on his feet. “You’d know more than me. I mean, ‘less you guys just randomly spawn like game characters, I figure there’s gotta be somewhere you hole up when not hunting people.”

“A hole sounds familiar … spawning less so …” Vas said his mind was still trying to reach for an answer. But now all he could think about were holes and that wasn't very helpful at the moment. “Im sure we have a place to hole up …” He started hoping that his brain would suddenly and randomly finish that sentence for him.

“Not in the Sprawl you don’t,” Serena reminded him.

“You don't know that for sure.” He said quickly. “Do you?”

“Hundred percent,” she told him. “On account of I know every bit of it, and I know no one here would put up with it.”

“You have Jaggoffs … er … Jaggs … running around like shooting folk base off of vibes but … whatever I am .. hellhound … is where the line is drawn?” He asked dryly, crossing his arms.