The Crazy Adventures of Kevin

 

 

Read over 20 chapters ahead on Patreon.com/heavenlyenel.

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On a desolate planet six galaxies away, the air was thick with the stench of spilt oil and burning metal. The sky, a dull grey, mirrored the lifelessness of the rocky terrain below. A sketchy alien bar, tucked away in a crumbling cityscape, flickered under poor lighting, its neon sign barely visible through the haze. Inside, the atmosphere was no better. The dim light cast long shadows across the bar, where patrons of all shapes and sizes drowned their sorrows in various concoctions. The music blared, drowning out the murmurs of secret deals and hushed conversations.

 

Varrick, a lanky figure with a sharp gaze, slammed his fist on the bar table, frustration evident in every motion.

 

“So, you’re telling me your sources that scour the deep forgotten parts of the cosmos haven’t seen or heard of someone who looks like this?” His voice was strained as he held up a holo-image of a man, his features sharp and unmistakable.

 

The bartender, a curvaceous humanoid with the face of an octopus, glanced at the image while polishing a dirty glass. Her tentacles moved with a practised grace, wiping away the grime.

 

“Aye, he’s a handsome fella,” she replied, her voice thick and sultry.

 

“But I haven’t seen him in these parts. He would’ve made a mighty fine slave to sell!” Her laughter echoed through the bar, but Varrick wasn’t amused.

 

He let out a heavy sigh and pushed away from the bar, his tall, wiry frame nearly knocking over a stool.

 

“Ugh! Even you, known as the scourge of the deep, haven’t seen him.” Disappointment weighed on him as he moved towards the exit, the dim light barely illuminating his path.

 

Outside, a hovering vehicle awaited him, its sleek design a stark contrast to the dilapidated surroundings. The door slid open with a hiss, and Varrick slipped inside, the interior lit by a soft, ambient glow. A burly figure, concealed beneath a heavy robe and mask, handed him a bag as soon as he settled into his seat.

 

“Any leads?” the figure, known as Rust, asked in a deep, gravelly voice.

 

Varrick tore into the bag’s contents, shovelling food into his mouth.

 

“Sho… humry,” he mumbled between bites, his words barely intelligible.

 

Rust watched him silently, his eyes the only visible part of his face, observing Varrick’s every move. Varrick finally swallowed, letting out a sigh of relief.

 

“Thanks, Rust. I still can’t get over it. How did your parents name you Rust?”

 

Rust’s expression remained unreadable, his silence unbroken as he turned his attention to the controls. Varrick shrugged, dropping the bag into a container within the vehicle.

 

“No leads here. Let’s move.”

 

“No. We’re going to Planet Karax. We need a device from there,” Rust stated firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument.

 

Varrick’s brow furrowed.

 

“Uh, not even our magic can trace him. What kind of device are you talking about?”

 

“We don’t have much time,” Rust replied, his tone carrying an urgency that made Varrick sit up straight.

 

The vehicle lifted off, leaving the decrepit city behind as they soared through the planet’s smog-choked atmosphere. Soon, they reached a bustling space station, its docking bays filled with ships of various sizes and shapes. The duo made their way to their parked spaceship, a sleek, battle-worn vessel that had seen many adventures.

 

Inside, they navigated the narrow corridors until they reached a discreet pawn shop nestled within the station’s underbelly. The shop was dimly lit, filled with trinkets and devices of questionable origin. Behind the counter, a humanoid fly leaned back in its chair, its compound eyes reflecting the faint light.

 

“How much for the wave tracker?” Rust asked, his voice low and deliberate.

 

“That would be seventeen thousand K crystals,” the fly replied casually, its wings twitching as it spoke.

 

“Seventeen thousand? You may as well point a gun at my face while you’re robbing me!” Varrick snickered, incredulous at the exorbitant price. The conversion was equivalent to seventeen million US dollars.

 

Rust placed a firm hand on Varrick’s shoulder, signalling him to step aside. Varrick complied, his irritation simmering beneath the surface. Rust reached into his coat, and the fly’s antennae twitched in suspicion. Sensing a potential threat, the fly quickly drew a laser gun, firing at Rust in a panic.

 

Smoke filled the small shop, and when it cleared, Rust stood unharmed, his cloak untouched. He slowly revealed a transparent card, causing the fly’s compound eyes to widen in shock.

 

“I almost shot a VIP customer!” the fly gasped, clearly terrified.

 

“You did shoot a VIP customer,” Rust corrected, his tone icy.

 

“But everything turned out okay, haha,” the fly stammered, nervously trying to cover its blunder.

 

“Please don’t report me to the boss. Here, this is a special invitation to an information broker in the Flaxin sector.” It handed Rust a golden card, which he took without a word.

 

As they turned to leave, a woman with spiky elbows and a long tail, dressed in a sharp suit, appeared behind Varrick. He nearly jumped out of his skin. “Warn me next time!” he complained as they followed her down a dark, narrow hallway. The walls seemed to close in around them, the darkness almost suffocating, until they emerged into a small, square room illuminated by a soft, golden glow.

 

In the centre of the room were two red velvet pillows adorned with gold threads, inviting yet oddly out of place in the sterile environment. The woman who had escorted them was nowhere to be seen.

 

“So, what now?” Varrick asked, turning to Rust, but his companion was already seated on one of the pillows. Without a word, Rust clapped his hands twice.

 

A voice echoed through the room, seemingly from nowhere.

 

“Greetings, our most beloved customers. You must have travelled far and wide to— Oh, bollocks. I don’t have your money now, Rust!”

 

Varrick scanned the room, trying to locate the source of the voice, but found nothing. Rust, unfazed, spoke calmly,

 

“Stop using your voice projector already, Finn.”

 

With a flicker, a visual projection of a humanoid fox appeared, lounging lazily on a couch with two humanoid women by his side, each with two pairs of arms. Finn, the fox, exhaled a puff of smoke from a long pipe, his sly eyes narrowing as he focused on Rust.

 

“What’s with the new look, Rust? The Plumbers looking for ya?” Finn teased, his tone light but curious.

 

“I need a wave tracker. Now,” Rust demanded, his patience wearing thin.

 

Finn took another drag from his pipe, exhaling slowly.

 

“I’m afraid another customer may have booked it.”

 

“Then undo it. I’ve booked it,” Rust pressed, his voice growing colder.

 

Finn sighed, setting his pipe down.

 

“Listen, I’ve got to keep this company moving. Do you know how hard it is running a completely legal business, far away from the reach of galactic laws and enforcement, just to supply our innocent customers with the goods they need to make their day? The paperwork alone is a nightmare. The fuel costs to transport stock all the way to this sector of the galaxy? Come back next week, and we’ll talk about your wave tracker.”

 

Rust’s response was silent yet powerful. He removed his cloak, revealing a missing left arm, the wound still fresh and raw.

 

The room fell silent, the playful atmosphere evaporating in an instant. Finn’s expression darkened, his easygoing demeanour replaced by something far more serious. He released a long sigh of defeat and pressed a button on his console. In a flash of light, Rust and Varrick were teleported directly to Finn’s location.

 

“You just had to bring that up again,” Finn muttered as the two women beside him stood, positioning themselves protectively on either side of him.

 

“Rust… When did you—” Varrick began, but Rust quickly covered himself with his cloak, ending the conversation before it could start.

 

Finn’s eyes narrowed as he looked up at Rust.

 

“What ship do you need to track?”

 

“It’s very high-tech, custom-made,” Rust answered, his voice steady.

 

“Then the wave tracker you need will be useless. The only one I know of that can do a decent job concerning that would be on Planet Zimfra.” Finn shook his head.

 

“But that’s—” Varrick’s eyes widened in disbelief.

 

 

“Plumber territory,” Finn finished for him, a smirk playing on his lips. “Your friend here seems to know his stuff. Are you a runner? You mind taking a few packages for me?”

 

Finn’s gaze locked onto Varrick, his green eyes gleaming with a mixture of interest and amusement.

 

“And we need personnel to operate it as well as a fast cruiser to get us in and out, boom boom bam! Just like that,” Finn continued, his tone returning to its earlier nonchalance. A hologram sprang to life before them, displaying the target planet in vivid detail.

 

“I can operate it. I’ve used it before,” Rust said, his voice leaving no room for doubt.

 

“Alright,” Finn conceded, turning to one of the women.

 

“Alexa, take Rust to our medbay now. Have them take a look at that.”

 

Alexa, one of the women, nodded and gestured for Rust to follow her, leaving Varrick and Finn alone in the dimly lit room. The air between them was thick with unspoken tension as the door slid shut behind Rust.

 

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