It's a Slow Fire of Sorts: Part I

Drink water

One time is just bad luck. Two times is an annoying happenstance, but three? Brunnhilde is starting to think this is more of a pattern and less of a coincidence.

"You're stalking me," she accuses.

"What?"

"Don't bother lying. What are you even doing here this time? Lost Kree baby, missing computer, another murderer-"

"I don't appreciate the attitude," Vers says, but Brunnhilde just laughs. She crosses her arms and looks Blondie over. Vers is dressed in her normal Starforce attire; fancy communicator, sleek ponytail, a face sadly devoid of bruises...

"Right, okay," Brunnhilde continues. "So that's how we're gonna play it?"

"I'm not playing anything."

"That was sarcasm, Blondie. Your Universal translator sucks."

Vers just glares. "I'm not playing games-" but she's interrupted by a series of wet coughs. Gjewio steps into the main room, tossing the makeshift door of curtains out of his way as he stumbles around mounds of invoices and debt collections.

"Ahh, there you are," he manages to get out in-between hacks. He isn't looking at Brunnhilde. He's looking at Vers.

Stupid, freaking Vers.

Brunnhilde scoffs. "Really?" she says. "You're the one who called her here?"

"Nice to see you, too, one-four-two... heh- good rhyme," he jokes, but neither Blondie or Brunnhilde are laughing. He clears his throat and digs a sheet of paper out of his pocket, because Krylor is apparently still operating in the 50s.

"Got word about a possible attack in the city," he says, handing the paper to Vers. "Something big... Syndicate type of threat. Considering your kind is technically allied with them- well, the Sakaarans, anyway," he says, pointing to Blondie. "Your Intelligence wants this handled as quickly as possible. They fill you in?"

Vers nods. Brunnhilde clenches her fists. "You said it was a bounty, not the flarking Syndicate," she hisses. "I'm not working for the Supreme Intelligence, and I'm certainly not working with a Kree Enforcer-"

"Not an Enforcer-"

"Shut up," Brunnhilde demands, pointing to Gjewio. "You better start talking, Marks. What is this really about? Why am I here? And how much money are we talking about?"

"Half a million for each member collected."

"Not enough," Brunnhilde says.

"How many?" Vers asks.

"Ten," Marks answers. "Something is going down in three days' time. I don't care what you do- kill them, capture them, torture them- but your flarking computer god is breathing down my neck about it, threatening to shut me down for credit evasion. Fix this-" he demands. "And I'll pay."

Half a million for a Syndicate member is cheap. It's equivalent to paying a thousand units for a flarking Kylosian, and Brunnhilde isn't too thrilled about risking her life for a death mob, but before she can say something like, "Give me a million for each and I might consider it," Vers is heading for the door.

"Hey!" Brunnhilde yells. "We gonna discuss this or not?"

"No."

"No?"

"There's nothing to discuss," Vers says. Her words are neither haughty nor proud, just matter of fact, like this is merely another day for her. "I go in. I kill ten Syndicate members. I give you the money. I leave."

"What?"

"I go in. I kill ten Syn-"

"Yeah, yeah- no. I got that part," Brunnhilde interrupts, trying not to dwell on the last part of Ver's statement: 'I give you the money.'