Away From Here

Chapter One: Home

Atticus let his hat sit on the table in front of him as he listened to Greer flap his jowls. Strings of spit erupted from his yellow cigarette stained teeth with his ringed hand pressed firmly to the table surrounding him. Greer ran every small detail of every hunting operation, taking a sizable piece of every earning that hit the bottom of a pocket. Nobody was brave enough to try and get the best of him, especially not Atticus. He listened to this man of greed roll him out the details of a bounty that had reached his scanner. If Atticus was being completely honest he was only partly listening to him blabber, raising a finger to indicate he was going to take the job. Greer smiled his crooked smile and took a drag of his thick black cigar.

"Atticus Thark...My Stringless Wonderboy" He chuckled, sliding a small silver chip across the wood table. Atticus caught the gliding chip with his leather glove, his other hand retrieving the hat he had left sitting. He tipped his hat at Greer and flipped the chip across the surfaces of his fingers.

He let the word "Stringless" cross back and forth in his mind as he departed without a word. With each heavy boot step down the stairs he thought about who he would even take as a String. Strings were sidekicks for old hunters who couldn't keep their wits about them anymore. He wasn't old yet, was he? Besides, having a string holding you down only makes it more dangerous out there. He didn't need one around. He audibly exhaled as he was graced with the sight of the crowded bar top. The Saloon was partly a bar and partly a meeting place for hunters. The upstairs was stocked with weaponry and interdimensional machinery, while the downstairs was just like any old rusty tavern. Atticus's nose immediately filled with the putrid smell of whiskey mixed with vomit. They had lit a soy candle to attempt to cover the smell to no apparent result. He recognized a familiar red hat sat lonely on the bar, it's owner hunched over the table top. Atticus approached him and placed a gentle hand on his back, making the older man snap out of his alcoholic zoneout. Julius Dusk, the best hunter in the business, at least to Atticus. Age had hit the man harshly, leaving behind a head of white hair and a face of crevices. Despite his complaining of sickness in his age he kept on with his job, Atticus feared he'd never stop.

"Ahh Atticus, have a seat son," He sputtered, Atticus already hoisting himself onto the stool next to him.

"You gonna kill yourself with that..." Atticus took the pint that sat in front of the old timer and moved it away.

"Hey now, If this kills me by golly god let it be" He spat, yanking his drink back to his chest

Atticus chuckled deep in his throat, reaching into his bag to pull out his dark woven journal. He took his hat off once more to get the blood flowing to his head, his usually order of rum being placed in front of him. With a few taps of his fingers against the metal watch strapped around his wrist it sprung to life with purple energy. Using his thumb and forefinger he pushed his chip into the face of the clock. As he waited for the machine to read his assignment Julius turned to oversee his actions.

"Whaddya get?" He hiccuped and rested his wrinkled forehead on the lip of his pint.

"Ahh nothin too serious...I ain't really pay attention.."

Julius huffed and gripped Atticus's shoulder tightly, "Bein a bounty hunter ain't jus about the guns OR the gear. You gotta pay attention more...That information Greer gets yah is important...What if you just took a job that's gonna get yah killed it yah go it alone..."

"Okay Jules..." Atticus responded a bit too quickly for Julius's liking. Atticus was now focused on the info-holograph that popped up from his watch. The information was clear and simple; dimension 2-806, council member murdered, escaped outlaw, dead or alive. The pay was rather pretty as well. Atticus jotted down quick notes in the back of his tattered hand-me-down book as he absorbed the information.