Pistol Packin' Mama (Colibri's Entrance)

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Pistol Packin' Mama (Colibri's Entrance)

Post by Colibri on Fri Mar 04, 2016 5:06 pm

(( Pistol Packin Mama by Bing Crosby & The Andrew Sisters ))

Felicia, Angie

Jan 14, 2605
1110 Hours, Local Time (Terra Prima, Boston Sidereal)
Gateway Station - The Nasty Kitty

The Nasty Kitty, a dive festhall on the lowest decks of Gateway Station, was aptly named. Dim, smoky, reeking of cheap synthahol and soybeer, and filled with a selection of rowdy, burly, blue-collar spacers, it was like something out of one of those credit-apiece trashy spaceways stories. It was dark, the lighting coming from half-dead panels and flickering electric torches, and the numerous coals of lit cigarettes or grinstone pipes. The smoke was thick on the air, a swirling miasma seeming to contain menacing shapes in the dim half-light. The interior of the bar was a dump. The bar itself was little more than a long sheet of poorly-veneered pressboard, scarred and stained with the legacy of a thousand long nights. The floor and walls seemed to be made of old deck and hull plating from some long-dead small craft, and they, too, were stained, though some of the stains were darker than most of the swill served here would warrant, and a few of them were accompanied by holes...

The patrons were as bad as the establishment, a rough crowd if ever there was one. At this hour, a few minutes before midnight, that crowd wwas considerable. Swarming with lumi-tats, scars, pirate colors and gang leathers, and less-than-licit equipment, they looked like the sort of people who had grown hard in a number of rough trades. Which probably include rape, murder, extortion, and smuggling among other fine occupations. They were taking their drinking seriously, dicing, playing cards, or just watching a tired, too-skinny, hungry young woman dance on the stage at the far end of the bar.

Colibri had attracted a fair amount of attention coming in. Slender, utterly gorgeous and inhumanly graceful, she was a conversation stopper as soon as she crossed into the rank semi-darkness. More than one set of eyes was considering what it would take to bed or break her, but then they saw the pistols, and noted the way she moved, and decided that maybe this one wasn't worth the trouble.

Colibri's lips twitched as she watched the reactions to her simple entrance, a look that hid the much bigger, wicked grin she actually felt at seeing such rough and tumble men consider, then reconsider. Without appearing to hold much interest at the crowd, the slim redhead made her way to the ratty jukebox on the far side of the room. She leaned against it a moment, the quirk of her hips purposefully accentuating her form for those watching as she considered the music options it held. She smirked lightly as she found one, putting in the asked amount and pressing play on a song she found hilariously and ironically fitting for the scene: Sing, Sing, Sing (With a Swing).

As Col made her way over to the bar, the conversation began to pick up again, and those that had convinced themselves she wasn't worth it had gone back to what they had been doing. The bar tender was there before she even lifted a finger, and she made her request as she passed over a few credits (enough for the beer and then some, since she believed highly in tipping well).

Colibri turned, leaning her back against the edge of the bar as the tender filled a glass and scanned the place for anything particularly interesting. One group in particular caught her eye just as the glass was set on the bar next to her, and she grasped it by the rim with slender fingers, thanking the bar tender with a wink before setting off to her chosen quarry.

Her free hand reached out as she walked, grabbing an empty chair from a passing table. The beer glass was set heavily down on the table where five particularly mean-looking pirates sat playing cards, the demanding Thunk! of the glass jolting their attention onto her, if it wasn't already, and she spun the chair into position before sitting down, languid, her long legs crossing and shifting into a comfortable position. "Well, hello, fellas. Mind if I join?"

The pirates were big, gene-modded or vat-muscled, or maybe just from heavy-grav worlds, and muscular. They had to be; unless they were on a console, their role in combat would involve ripping out and replacing entire battle and control assemblies and replacing them by hand, in adverse conditions, all within seconds. Failure could mean the death of the ship, so even the most carefree pirates tended to take their actual duties very seriously.

But these five were real examples of the breed.

All five were dressed in what looked like Concordiat naval fatigues with the insignia missing, and one of them had augmented his with a leather jacket that had a fur collar. It looked a little ridiculous until Colibri realized that the "fur" was the skin from a Felicia, and that this guy had probably killed her and turned her into the rust-colored jacket he was wearing. He looked her up and down, paying particular attention to her slim legs and pouting mouth. When he smiled, she could see that his teeth were mother of pearl-inlaid, shining in the light even more than his pale, shaved scalp and he roared with laughter and gestured at the chair. "Be my guest!"

The others looked her over with varying degrees of lust and surprise, but no one protested, and the dealer- a big man with a head of tightly-kinked black hair over hispanic features, two days of stubble and dark eyes said, "You're just in time. Small blind is fifty, big's a hundred. You're small." He began to deal, first to the man with the pearl teeth, then to two burly redheads with short goatees and ratty, shoulder length hair that could have been brothers and probably were, and the last one, a man with skin so black it was almost blue who stood a handspan over two meters tall if Col was any judge and sported two-centimeter duralloy claws in place of fingernails. They were playing with a debased Tarot deck, the images decidedly lecherous in nature and using twelve trumps in place of face cards, with Death as the one wild.

Colibri smiled sweetly at FeliciaAndPearls in way of thanks, leaning one elbow on the table and daintily picking up her glass to sip at its contents as she watched the dealer. Sharp eyes flicked and followed, before she picked up her own hand. Setting down her beer, she made a show of being unhappy with what she had, organizing and reorganizing them as if trying to figure out which ones to keep. Dexterous fingers slipped one card away to be stored under the side of her armored corset while laying another down, tapping twice as if she had just set down two cards instead of one to be discarded.

The cheat went unnoticed, as did the next, leaving her with Death and The Tower- the wild and an ace- hidden behind the tight black panel above her hip. She plunged, losing not on every hand, but on well over half, and with every hand she lost, they liked her more. The five pirates were cleaning her out, she clearly didn't know the first thing about cards, and had just gotten brash and lucky a few times. As they drank and laughed, they chatted with Colibri, needling her about her abysmal card skills but never with the intent to anger her. Underneath the table, Pearls' hand kept straying to her thigh, and Kinked kept looking at her cleavage, materially enhanced by the innocuous-seeming corset.

"I'm not bad!" She pouted, "Just unlucky, that's all!" Though, even as she said it, she hardly seemed actually upset. Despite her 'terrible luck', and the jibes she was getting, she still kept a decent humor about it all. As her glass emptied, she made a show of the lightweight most people would think her to be, getting more giggly even as she slapped Pearl's hand away again. Her hands seemed to be getting worse as the beer drained, as well.

"Careful, Lassy, ye'll end up someone's pet, ye keep that up," said BrotherOne, his finger running over her other thigh.

Col's nose crinkled in disgust and anger for a split second, but she quickly turned it into an adorable grin, looking as innocent as she had lead them to believe. Nails pinched and twisted the skin on the back of his hand, though playing it off as just another playful deterrent like she had been giving Pearls.

When she picked up the next cards she was given in exchange for the three she discarded, her giddy pep disappeared into near-despair. It was horrid! And it was perfect. She had seen another card she wanted laid down by one of the pirates, and this was the perfect opportunity to swipe it.

She whined piteously, flopping the length of her upper body over the table as she laid down her own, losing hand, playing up the sadness of losing yet again. Her cards, however, happened to cover the hand of the one with the desired card, and two fingers under her fan grabbed it and hid it among what she held. When she sat back up to pout down at her cards again and grab for her money, she slipped the stolen one with the other two.

Eyes widened, suddenly, with the 'realization' that she had no more money. "I..." She whispered, shrinking in shame, "I don't have enough to cover that one."

There was a sudden, brief hush in that corner of the bar. Welching on a gambling debt was serious business to a sailor, and for some little up-hab bitch to come in, play the tease, lose all her money and then say she couldn't cover it...but then Pearls', who Col had pegged as their leader, roared with laughter, slapping the table so that the plastic chips with their little holographic floating numbers bounced and rattled in a strangely compelling lightshow.

"Had to 'appen sooner 'r later, li'l bit!" He exclaimed. "Th' way yer losin', I'm surprised you're not puttin' yourself on the table an hour ago!" The other four pirates looked at her speculatively, and Pearls' saw them and shook his head. "Now now, boys, we're bein' regular gentlemen here. Let's not go and fuck it up for this fine young siren just yet!" He turned his shaved head back to Colibri, his grin sparkling as he tapped the table. "All the same, yer a mite fucked." He said.

Leaning back and lighting up a smoke with a black filter and red paper, smelling of spices and old leaf, Pearls shrugged. "If y'don't have the money, y'gotta give up something of equal value. Now you're the blind, so that makes it a good two hundred." He stared at her chest as he said, "You could give us two hundred credits of yer time and go yer merry way..." he glanced at his men and then back to her, his smile widening into a neopuma's grin, "or ya could go in for one more hand, bet it all, and if y'lose give us two hundred credits of your time each." The other pirates looked well pleased with Pearls' suggestion; they'd all wanted to get Colibri away from the bar for some time already and the way she was losing, they'd have their chance if she accepted.

Before Colibri could reply, however, Pearls held up a hand and added, "Y'stay, though, we're gon' need a litt insurance. Something to convince us that you aren't just going to gate if y'lose. Like, oh..." he looked knowingly at the brothers and back, "Your shorts."

Col had watched them with worried eyes as Pearls discussed her options. She had figured what was coming, and had held her breath over the span of the last couple sentences, tightening her gut and chest just as the apparent realization of what the pirate was saying (that she would be sitting there in her underwear of all things! Gasp! The scandal!) hit, forcing the blood flow to her face and causing a nicely red blush. She sputtered as she looked from one to the other, hoping one of them would be civil enough to save her from this horrible predicament...but shrank in relenting embarrassment as all of them seemed intent on their lecherous ideals.

"F-fine," she said, standing stiffly and working at the button of the already short shorts. She stopped half way down the zipper, frowning and seeming to reconsider before looking up at them again. "B-but it's only fair that one of you have yours off, too!" She added, her face a pouted indignation, and she looked pointedly at BrotherOne that had made that infuriating comment earlier.

BrotherOne looked around the table, his mouth splitting into a leer before he nodded agreeably. "Aye." he said, standing- and standing and standing, mountain of a man- and leaning over to look down at Colibri with a hungry look. "But when ye lose, I get ye first, before yer all sloppy and worn out." The others nodded their assent and he stripped off his belt and the black and grey fatigue pants, peeling them off of legs that look large enough to land a cargo shuttle on. His underwear was simple, functional, and tight, a dark grey that clung to a prodigious bulge, and his legs were as muscular as they were large.

Stepping out of the discarded pants, BrotherOne tossed them on the table then pushed his pot forward, the rest of the piratical card-players doing the same until there was a sizeable heap of plastic with a forest of little glowing numbers floating above it. BrotherOne buckled his gunbelt back on, then slowly sat back down and began to shuffle the cards, staring pointedly at the half-unzipped shorts. Beside him, the one that kept staring at her cleavage was leering with the rest of them, but his eyes were narrower, as if he were trying to work out a particularly difficult problem- maybe a sentence with more than five syllables- but when the cards began to slide around the table, he shook himself and began collecting his hand.

Colibri watched in awe of the huge man, turning her head away and placing her knuckles to her mouth shyly when he finally stripped, glancing to and away the very obvious mass he carried. It was too bad, really. Usually she'd be perfectly happy to take them up on their offer. However, seeing just how much she could actually swindle them out of was much more entertaining.

She huffed a sigh and a pout before returning her slender fingers to the zipper and sending it down along the rest of its journey. Hips twitched and flicked as she wiggled out of the tight shorts, revealing the lacy black number underneath. Embarrassment coating her every feature and move, Colibri dropped the shorts upon the top of the pile and then sat down. She gave another huff, and awaited her fate-hand.

The hand she was dealt was moderately terrible. Seven of Wands, Nine of Swords, Ten of Swords, Two of Staves, and Three of Staves. It was, for certain, a losing hand. With the cards she'd squirreled away, however, it was a straight flush with Death as the high card. Not knowing what she held, and obviously confident in their chances, Pearls and the brothers were already leering at her, and Pearls' hand was on her thigh again, roving much higher now that her brief shorts were on the table in front of her. Only Kinked, the first dealer, seemed concerned. He dumped three cards, but barely even looked at them, still staring at Colibri's chest. The brothers tossed away one apiece and Pearls and Blue took none.

Well, now, wasn't this fortuitous?

Colibri chewed her bottom lip nervously, picking out the cards she didn't need and placing them on the table. When she picked up the three she was given, she made a brief show of looking at them in the hand that had grabbed them, sighing and slumping into her chair, lightning fast motions switching them out for the ones under her corset, and then she was straightening again, placing the cards in with the rest of her hand.

She kept the worried frown as each of the men laid their cards on the table with a horrible grin. A Straight. A Full House. A Flush. A Three of a Kind. And a Four of a Kind.

She took in a breath, looking just about on the edge of tears as she lowered the cards she had stacked neatly atop each other.

Her entire act fell away as she fanned the cards out on the table with an expert swipe for all to see. She smiled, reaching between her breasts to pull out a thin, silk bag. "Well, Gentlemen, it's been a pleasure," she said, standing and beginning to scoop the chips into the bag. When she'd taken what it could carry, she cinched it closed. "I truly am sorry I couldn't entertain you for as long as you would have liked, but at least we each have a souvenir, right?" She added, picking up and lightly shaking BrotherOne's pants with a grin.

The pirates stared, disbelieving. They could not believe how completely their luck had turned against them, how badly they'd been suckered by the beautiful young redhead with the pert ass and easy smile and the terrible poker skills. The first to react was BrotherTwo. His jaw hung open like his brother's, but he closed it with a click. Then he began to smirk, then grin, and then he exploded into laughter.

"Ye...ye..." He trailed off into an explosive belly laugh and shook his head, his eyes streaming. "Ohhhh, this is a surprise! Now ye're gonna hafta explain to the lads on the Threnody how a bare-arsed wee slip of a gel cheated ye out of a month's pay and yer trousers!" He kept laughing, gasping out, "May...M...maybe if ye beg, she'll let ye wear hers home!"

At that, the tension loosened, and Pearls and Blue cracked up, hammering fists on the table and calling for a round of drinks. They pounded her shoulders- though Pearls took the opportunity to give her upturned ass a light slap as she collected her winnings- and began to push back from the table as Kinked cased the cards. He was the only one not laughing, and as he riffled the deck once he paused, his confused expression clearing, then darkening into something ugly.

"Wait!" He snapped, and the force of his snarl snapped everyone's heads up in shock. They froze, Colibri still bent over as she scooped the last of her chits off the low table. "She cheated." Kinked said flatly. They looked at him in surprise, and Pearls began to speak, but Kinked raised his hand to forestall the comment and said, "She cheated. Check under her corset."

The atmosphere went from jovial to murderous in the blink of an eye, and all five pirates rounded on Colibri, reaching for neurolash batons and large, blocky pistols as Pearl said in a dangerous voice, "Best take it off, darling. We don' want this to get ugly."

Colibri froze the moment the air shifted, having ignored Kinked's accusations until then. Only her eyes moved, looking from one to the next and, finding that they all seemed quite convinced, gained a slow smile as she straightened. "Well," she said lightly, her hands coming up into a 'what can you do?' shrug, "looks like I've been found out." Col reached under the side of the corset, producing the three missing cards Kinked's sharper-than-the-rest senses had noticed, waving them briefly before tossing them onto the table.

"But, really, fellas, there's no need to get violent. Here," she pushed the secured bag back toward the center of the table, her voice still as sweet as could be and not holding even a hint of fear, "all your stuff and mine. You can even have these babies," She grasped the grips of her twin 10mm each with two fingers, un-holstering them and laying them down on the table, though they were considerably closer to her than the bag was. "C'mon, whadd'ya say? Friends?"

The look of the piratical group hadn't improved much.

"No? Well, that is too bad," Colibri hardly sounded disappointed.

Hands were out in a flash, grabbing the twin autos and leveling the barrels at the two pirates who moved first.

BrotherTwo seemed to be the one with the quickest reflexes of the bunch, actually managing to draw his weapon most of the way before Col had acted. It was a shame, really; she liked him in particular. He, at least, was hilarious. 

Because of her fondness for the jibing redbeard, she decided not to blow his face off, instead burying two rounds into the barrel of his chest, sending him flying backwards from his chair. From there it was a fanning out on either side...with one exception. Blue, Kinked and Pearls received an unwelcome guest knocking quite heavily on their skulls. Well, knocking first, and then breaking through the other side. Not that they noticed once their brains were scrambled eggs.

Colibri saved the baseless, pantsless BrotherOne for last, giving him a sneering smile just before she sent her next round at his teeth, the force of the 10mm bullet separating anything above it from anything below, effectively decapitating the man. And good riddance, too, she thought. That'd teach the bastard for even considering keeping her as a sex slave.

When the sound of the blasts had subsided from her ears, Colibri noticed that someone either had as good a sense of humor as she did, or the jukebox held a sympathetic ghost, as it had just begun playing the peppy tune of "Mr. Sandman." At about the same time, the bar tender must have noticed the carnage, as she heard a loud "SHIT!" from his direction. Col gave a light laugh, spinning her twin pistols once on their trigger guards before turning around to face the rest of the crowd. These bands never traveled alone, and she was sure someone would have something to say about it.

The entire crowd gaped. For a moment, there was a perfect moment of silence broken only by the music and the arrhythmic dripping of blood, bone, and brains onto the scarred, tacky floor. The girl on the stage at the far end of the bar was cowering, clutching at the sticky steel pole and trying to press herself into the smallest ball possible when the inevitable shit-and-ventilation intersection occurred, and everyone else just gaped at the sudden and terrifying explosion of carnage in their midst. She was fast, faster than any of them had ever seen, faster than any human had any right to be, and a few whispers ventured as much.

Then the crowd erupted. People fled in all directions, behind the bar, through the small door off the stage, through the maintenance exit on the back wall. Others hit the floor, covering their heads and not a few people were screaming.

By the door, however, a table of four was unmoved. There was a woman in black leathers with a white fur trim at her collar and the cuffs of her jacket, and a white eyebrow beneath three emerald studs quirked up before crimson lips curled into a small, vicious smile that pulled the gold and silver lumitat on her cheek out of focus. She nodded once and two of her companions lurched out of their chairs, drawing and snapping open compact shockflails as they rushed Colibri. The third man stayed seated with the woman, a sharp, goateed face grinning out from under a magnificent wide-brimmed hat. He sat slouching, his leather coat hanging open to show off the custom pistols with some kind of winged golden bird stamped onto the black grips, but he made no move to draw them, for all he seemed as comfortable with his guns as Colibri was with hers.

Colibri gave a sarcastic snort and smirk as the two ran at her head-on, marveling at just how clunky and clumsy they were compared to her. "I think I'll call you two Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum," she mused just before they came upon her. Tweedle-Dee--the above attack-- came first, swinging and missing as she dropped down into a crouch, turning on the balls of her feet as one pistol barrel came up to send three bullets into the man's chest and gut. She straightened as he tumbled past, using her crouched position to send her up into the air, arching as her hands reached out and landed on the next man coming at where her legs would have been with his flail, using his shoulder as a spring point and twisting her hips and legs to send her further into the air. Just as she had pushed away, her other pistol took aim and sent three rounds into Tweedle-Dum's back.

Col twirled once mid-air and then landed gracefully at about the same time Tweedle-Dee's limp body hit the ground. She bowed a couple times to the nearly-empty room in general, as if having been performing some fete for the crowd the whole time. "Thank you! Thank you! I'll be here all week! Tip your waitress."

Silence, again. This time complete, since Tweedle-Dum's ballistically-assisted sprawl had terminated with his head in the jukebox. Then, from the table, a slow, rhythmic snapping sound.

The man with the hat was clapping.

Beside him, the white-haired, white-skinned woman looked impassive, but her mouth was pressed into a thin line and her fingers clicked against the tabletop with a solidity that bespoke something other than flesh inside her glove.

The man stood, bowing deeply to her. "Smoothly done!" He crowed. "Seven of our crewmen dead in as man seconds, and naught but a quip to show for it." He looked her up and down, casually shaking out his coat to free up access to his own pistols but he made no move to draw them even though, by his own admission, she had just killed seven of his men. Cocking his head, he said, "You might want to cut your stay short, though. All week might get you caught by the security teams that are two minutes away at best."

The woman with him looked at him angrily and snapped, "What do you think y--!"

He interrupted her with a low, rolling laugh. "Come on now, Captain. We're well rid of them anyway." He gave Colibri an appraising glance and added, "You can always kill her later. Let's give her a head start, see if she runs as well as she shoots." The woman stared at him a moment, then nodded with a helpless laugh and he grinned broadly. Tossing a hundred-credit chit to the waif who was still on stage, he explained, "My waitress seems to have gone missing, but far be it from me to refuse an order from a lady." Then he looked pointedly at the door and told Colibri, "You've got a sporting chance. I wouldn't waste it."

Colibri grinned broadly with the recognition, seemingly unfazed by the casual show from the stranger. Though, her eyes did catch the shimmering bird emblem pressed into his own twin pistol's grips.

She gave a lilting laugh at his words as he continued to try and convince her leaving was the best option. "I like you, Mr. Firebird, you've got style. But seriously, a sporting chance? Come on, now, what kind of fun is that? It's the slim chances that really get me off. Your filthy goons, there, barely raised by blood pressure," she added, tossing her head back to the bloodied corpses still mostly sitting around the poker table.

Firebird smiled again, very slowly, and there was a clink as he shifted his feet, the sound of a silver-shod bootheel grinding against pressboard. A cigarette lighter flicked, and he took a long pull, blowing smoke in a spicy, silvery plume. He reached up, exaggeratedly tipped his hat to her, and blinked once.

Then he was moving, impossibly fast, as fast as Colibri herself and with just as much dreadful purpose. Her guns were at her sides, his were holstered. She didn't have to draw, but he knew when the action would start, and their guns both moved like leashed lightning, grey and silver and gold and black as they came up in two paired blurs, both gunslingers moving toward one another.

Too close. Firebird had the edge in timing because it was he that began the fight, but Colibri was deadly fast. His gun muzzle was a handspan from her breast when her own barrel smacked it out of line, her other gun moving low to pick off the shot at her thigh. Inside his reach now, Colibri brought her own guns back into line, but he twisted around, coat and guns and smile flashing as he pushed one hand too high and the other two low, her shots passing him just as harmlessly as his had passed her.

Back and forth they traded, a curious blend of gunplay and close-quarters combat. He moved with sudden power and an economy of motion, and she moved like a dancer, all grace and positioning, her agility against his strength, and neither gave a centimeter in the dazzling, arms-length gunfight too fast for the eye to follow. They were nothing more than blurs, she red and white and black, he black and gold, and the hammering actions and blazing muzzle flashes surrounded them in a nimbus of jetting flame, shattering sound, and awful light.

When they finally broke away and leveled their guns at each other, both pulled the trigger without hesitating. Both guns clicked, hammers dropping on empty chambers, and both killers brought up their other guns without pausing or breaking stride. Again, both guns clicked empty, leaving Colibri and the man she called Firebird staring at each other over open sights and open slides.

Behind Firebird, the cigarette he'd flicked away as he drew finally hit the ground.

Colibri stood there with her empty pistol still raised, her face alight with an almost manically giddy grin, her breaths coming slightly heavier, now, in a very light pant.

This. Was. Amazing! It was, by far, the most fun she'd ever had with another person in a fight.

She wanted this man. And now...but now was not the time, and she was reminded of this fact as her sharp ears picked up some shouts and calls from someone somewhere outside the ratty bar calling for help with the crazy ass woman killing everyone inside.

With fingers still gripping pistols, Col reached out, grabbing the collar of Firebird's coat with both hands and pulling him into a hard, fiery kiss before pushing him away and turning back toward the poker table. Her guns were holstered as she moved, and she grabbed the bag of chits in one hand and the pants in the other. Grinning at him impishly, Colibri spun on her heel and dashed toward the exit.

Firebird watched her go, grinning as he calmly stripped the magazines from his pistols and replaced them, cycling his actions before pulling them out and replacing the chambered round. Idly, he wondered how long it would take the mystery woman with the scarlet hair- and an ass he could could crack a walnut on- to find the antique .357 casing he'd slipped amongst the lining of her corset, or whether she'd think to check its base for his commcode number.

Behind him, the white-haired woman rose and made a sound of disgust. Drawing up next to him, stepping carefully to avoid the blood and brass casings of the old-style autoloaders he favored, she looked sidelong at him and asked acidly, "Are you good now, or should I leave you alone for a minute so that you can relieve the pressure."

"Take more'n a minute, Cap!" He said cheerfully, watching aforementioned luscious backside run off on legs that seemed to go on for meters. The captain made another sound, somewhere between a choke and a gag, and Firebird grinned as he adjusted his trousers. "That one," he said judiciously, "bears watching."


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