Colt 45's Arc

Chapter 1 of 2

Colt 45 read the fourth bounty poster of the week and knew someone was harvesting the desperate. Three names she recognized had gone out chasing the listed marks. None had come back. She stood in the crooked market square of a settlement that wasn't on any map she trusted, a place travelers called the Lost world because ships landed here and forgot why. The poster promised eight hundred credits for a runaway courier. The paper was fresh. The ink smelled wrong, sweet, like it had been mixed with something to draw the eye. Colt tore it down and folded it into her coat. She had a rifle, a half-charged sidearm, and no one inside whatever network kept nailing these things to the board. Without an informant, the next name on a poster could be hers. She was leaving the square when the animal followed her. It was tall as her hip, long-limbed, orange and grey, with yellow eyes that tracked her without blinking. She'd seen it twice already that week, always near the board. Colt stopped in the alley behind the freight office and turned on it. "Go on," she said. The cat sat down. Then it pawed at the folded poster in her pocket until she pulled the paper out. It bit the corner, tugged, and started walking. Colt followed because she had nothing better and because the creature moved like it knew the way. Six blocks on, it stopped at a shuttered pawnshop and scratched the door. A woman opened it a crack, saw the cat, saw Colt, and swore. "He only brings me the ones who are next," the woman said. She pulled Colt inside and bolted the door. "Sit down. I'll tell you who's writing the posters. Then you tell me how you plan to stay alive long enough to use it."