Cuffs'n'Claws

Loose change spilled over the counter as the gas-station attendant frowned and brought his hands forward in a desperate movement to keep the cents on the counter-top.
“Shit,” the customer in front of him cursed and closed his mobile-phone with a decisive snap, ignoring his rapidly escaping coins and fumbling for some dollar notes from his jeans pocket, slapping them down on the desk, “sorry, gotta go, keep the change.”
The attendant looked down at the pile of dimes, cents and notes sprayed on the surface in front of him, and watched the man sprint out to his Harley. He tutted, and began to scoop the money into his hands as the deep resounding sound of the motorbike's engine vibrated through the gas-station.

Reno kicked out the bike-stand and revved the engine hard, the breeze running through his hair as his Harley sped out of the gas-station and rolled out onto the highway, bucking with the dips in the concrete. The leather creaked and groaned as he settled himself in his saddle, setting his eyes on the horizon and running through in his head the conversation he had just held with his boss and good-friend, Bobby Sixkiller.

He was in fact now heading in the direction he had come from that morning, disillusioned with so called 'leads' he had been fed for the last few weeks. All that had hit the back of his eyeballs for the last month was dust and sunsets over car-lots. All that had hit his stomach was unsatisfying Mall-junk.

Wrinkling his nose slightly and squashing down the rising feeling of expectation in his stomach he upped his speed a gear and contemplated Bobby's rushed summary of recent events. The police air-waves had apparantly come alive with reports of activity in outer Vancouver, reports of unexplained lights, noises and.. 'incidents'. This was exactly the kind of vague information Reno, Bobby and Chey had been scouring for in their search for their latest quarry.

~~~~~~

"Ray Caletto. It's unlikely to be his real name Reno, i can't get any information on this one past a dead guy and some family men in Italy and South America." Bobby had shuffled his papers looking expectantly at his sole bounty-hunter, as if he were waiting for Reno to pull the man from his backpocket.

The ex-cop had brushed his hair back with both hands, holding it briefly in a ponytail and then letting it fall as he took the papers from Bobby's hands, "c'mon Bobby how about something easy for a change? Can't i go catch one of the family guys in South America?" He threw his friend a cheeky grin and rustled the sheets in his hand. Bobby leant forward and planted his palms on the desk in front of him, "20,00 dollars worth of bother Reno! Don't start me on our business agreement," he waggled a finger. Reno pursed his lips as he scanned the files, which were thin on the ground to say the least, "I know i know, you'll take away my dental plan," he murmured, not fully paying attention to the comment.

Pacing casually and flipping to the next sheet he read down a few lines and then stopped. He frowned, and rised his eyes to Bobby's, recognising that his friend had been waiting for him to get to the relevant part of the papers.
"Claws?" Reno asked, his eyebrows skewed and his expression disbelieving.
Bobby shrugged and tryed to look nonchalant, "the guy was probably just holding knives..."
Reno widened his eyes and rolled his head to the side, turning away and reburying his attention in the files.

The man.. Ray Caletto.. had come out of nowhere and suddenly developed numerous citings, mostly encompassing vast unexplained areas of destruction and other very sketchily-described antagonists. The charges were recklessness, violence, unspecified GBH, a couple of stabbings and some rather unelaborate accounts of threatening behaviour. He peered at the small photograph on the front page, it was badly exposed and very hard to make out. There was only really a blurred sillouette, although it was clear that the man was short and incredibly well muscled, almost animalistic in his posture. Reno's pulse rate took a small flicker upwards as his interest was piqued. Bobby must have recognised something in his partner, because he stood businesslike from his behind his desk and took a few steps towards Reno, "last sighting was in Vancouver, BC, i've been making arrangements for your travel."

Reno's interest was interrupted and he tore his eyes away from the sheets to look at Bobby again in disbelief, "you want me to cross the border to Canada? How exactly do you plan on accomplishing this feat Mr Sixkiller? I'm wanted in God-knows how many states and you want me to walk past the border waving my little passport and grinning?"
"Reno you have so little faith in me!" Bobby clapped his friend between the shoulder blades, and ignored the bounty hunters peeved expression, "you are flying to Canada. By personal jet."
"You have a personal jet?" Reno asked, half ready to be impressed at the discovery of yet another section of Bobby's well protected mini-empire.
"Oh yes," Bobby grinned, lifting his chin to stare towards the sky in a heroic pose, and squeezed his friends shoulder. Reno squinted. We'll see.

~~~~~~

Flying along the highway on his Softail, Reno cringed at the memory of the three hour charter flight in the belly of a rickety airplane, hugging his motorcycle for fear it would break its belts and fly out the window at every swoop and jolt of the flight. He had silently planned and plotted and schemed, taking evil pleasure in his revenge on Sixkiller. So far it involved duck-tape, jam, the local wildlife, a camera and a certain newspaper journalist. Reno grinned, feeling the air dry his gums instantly as his speed increased. He paid mind to keep it under the limit, the last thing he needed was a police escort.

The buildings started to rise around him and streets emerged below the highway as it wound and rose and fell, twisting among others as they converged on the grey city. The chinese districts were a blur as he sped past, the road narrowing and narrowing as he steered a path through downtown. Straining his mind to remember directions from Bobby, he started peering at streetsigns and slowing at corners, keeping his eyes peeled for city-cops as he weaved from street to street. His light pink cotton sweatshirt flapped as his speed slowed to a kidney-thumping massage, and the Harley's engine purred its way through thronging shopping districts. Shortly, coming to an area full of hostels and motels just outside the downtown shopping area he found the street he was looking for, and identified the shabby hotel where Ray Caletto had apparantly booked in and used his plastic for payment, not five hours ago.

The guy is either a moron, Reno mused, or he's so confident to think he can take on Vancouver's entire police force. The bounty hunter silenced his Harley's engine and tried to swallow down the nasty feeling that it was the latter. The kick-stand supported the chrome beast as he dismounted and lifted a few extra pieces of hardware from his saddle backs. The deep orange glow of the setting sun glanced off his belt buckle as he strode across the street and mounted the steps to the hotel door. Pushing it open slowly and letting him eyes adjust to the grimy darkness inside, he walked up to the reception desk. It was dented and covered in graffiti, not exactly the best face of Vancouver he decided as he leant over and peered into the back office, looking for signs of life.

There was no-one there, he frowned, and turned towards the stairs leading up to the rooms. Room five, Chey had informed him through Bobby, and his remaining change chinked slightly in his pocket as he climbed the stairs and strained his ears for sounds of anyone else. As he neared the top he picked up voices, echoes of shouts and he pushed open a door that led onto the hallway. As the door opened the shouts became instantly clearer, although the words were indecipherable, some of the voices bearing a strange in-human quality. His eyes narrowed, Reno walked slowly towards the noise, his boots making hardly a sound on the carpeted floor.

He gently drew his gun, its 'shook' sound comforting as it withdrew from its leather holster, its weight familiar in his hand. There was a period of silence as he came to room number five, and noticed that the room immiedately to its left had an open door and a cleaning cart half inside. He slipped inside the room just as the floor shook violently and he jumped, moving to stand close to the wall as a bestial roar filled his ears. More loud crashes came from the room next to him and he hunched his shoulders lower in defence as the walls shook, shouts and enraged outcries filling the air.
A burst of siren echoed in from the street and he cursed, knowing the police had been called, guessing that was why the reception was unmanned. He grabbed the cleaning cart and dragged it inside, pulling the door to so as to allow himself only a chink of space from which to observe things. His thoughts flew to his mobile, knowing Bobby was only a phone call away in voice, but a days drive away in person.

He heard heavy footsteps and clear voices as two policemen came out onto the landing.
"Room five he said... here we go," on man drew his gun and stood against the opposite wall, at an angle to the door, "this is the police, please open the door with your hands where we can see them." His tone rang out clearly, and the raised voices inside the room stopped abruptly. Reno could hear movement inside, and he opened the door an inch more, to see both the policemen. The first edged closer to the door when he recieved no reply, "this is the police..." he boomed. With no warniing, rooms five's door slammed open, and a heavy footstep smashed down onto the corridor flooring. The policemans gun went off, Reno ducked back inside his room as he heard a crash, a scream and two more gunshots. A blinding burst of sickly green light sprayed through the gap in the door and sent blobs dancing in Reno's vision as he blinked furiously and ducked instinctively when more gun shots rang out.

He heard a yell, hoarse with desperation, calling the other policemans name. Another shout, "I'll fire!!" and then a clear snap and a gurgle, a shriek, a gunshot. Reno's brow knitted he swung the door open, oblivious to the risks. His head stuck out from his doorway and his gun held high he saw half of a metal monstrosity standing in the doorway next to him, a human form in police clothes dropped to the ground at its feet. It faced the other way, but the second policeman, a silent scream frozen on his face, stood not two metres from the beast waving his gun and staring at his fallen partner.

The metal construction wheeled around as the man let loose another shot, and Reno saw the charges of another green blast fill behind its eyes. He reached out and grasped at the mans arm, yanking him backwards into the room as the green blast struck in that place he had been standing, raining down plaster ceiling on them and collapsing a part of the wall inwards. Reno landed on his back, the policeman on top of him, and he hardly had time to register the quiet sound of a trigger pull before a loud crack sounded between them and the policemans side exploded into a bloody mess. The recoil slammed into Reno's chest, pain blossoming outwards around his chest and pushing all the air from his lungs as the man fell onto the floor beside him with a grunt. His gun rolled from the bounty hunters chest and fell to the floor with a thud as Reno's arms instinctively reached round his midsection, grasping for the tight pain that wrapped itself in wires of heat over his chest. His mouth gaped for oxygen, his lungs refusing to breathe in even as his vision began to cloud.

In the part of his brain not desperate for air, he heard faint voices and movement from the room next to him, deep tones, caught echoes of words relating to the docks, clipped portions of sentences, "...there's got to be a way to kill this impudant kitten..."

The ground beneath Reno shuddered as footsteps made thier way down the hallways, police sirens sounding in the distance and growing steadily closer. Finally gaining a desperate gulp of air, and the paying the price for moving his chest, Reno rolled to his right side painfully, groaning and pressing his cheek to the carpet as pain danced along his nerves. Looking over to the unconscious policeman next to him, his face pale and blood glistening on his stomach, he struggled to push himself into a sitting position. Removing one arm from his chest he put two fingers against the mans neck and felt an erratic but strong pulse. Satsified that the man would get the help he needed, Reno pressed a towel from the cleaning cart to the bullet-wound and then staggered to his feet.

Glancing to his right into room five as he headed for the fire escape, he balked at the sheer destruction left in the wake of the creatures he had seen. Exposed brickwork from blasted walls and smashed furniture was framed by odd triple slash-marks in the furnishing and wallpaper.

Great, he thought, as he shot out of the fire escape and down the stairs, here i am in Vancouver with cracked ribs and Bobby has me hunting a giant Tranformer and some kind of wild animal. Finding a back alley in the rapidly falling darkness and circling round, he heard the sirens convirge on the building and slowly worked his way round to the street again. Carefully peering out from an alley way some way down the street, he could see the cars set haphazardly in the middle of the road, policemen waiting as other streamed up into the hotel. He walked calmly down the footpath, trying to pay just the right amount of curiosity as he approached the scene, doing his best not to hold his ribs with his left hand.

Finally reaching his bike he kicked the stand out and rolled the bike a few metres away, the remaining policemen far too engrossed in thier task to pay him attention as he gunned the engine and took off, the wind sweeping his long hair back.

read part 2