Filler
The Shotgun Diplomacy
The courtyard was now a standoff. The Gang Leader stood at the front of his pack—seven big guys in leather jackets, looking like they ate bricks for breakfast.
The Leader pulled a heavy, rusted iron pistol from his belt. It was a single-shot flintlock, archaic and nasty.
"You put my boy in the dirt," the Leader spat, aiming at Malesh. "Now I put you in a box."
Malesh looked at the pistol. He looked at Kniya. Then he burst out laughing.
"A flintlock?" Malesh wheezed, wiping a tear from his eye. "What the fuck is that? Are we in a museum? Are you going to shoot me or give me a history lesson?"
"It kills just fine," the Leader growled, cocking the hammer.
"It kills if you hit," Malesh corrected, his face suddenly turning cold. "But in this era? That is just embarrassing. You know what I have right now?"
Before the Leader could pull the trigger, Malesh moved.
He didn't run away; he sprinted toward the bushes where they had stashed their "gym bags" earlier. He moved with a terrifying speed—80,000 credits worth of experience kicking in. He dove, grabbed the heavy canvas bag, and ripped the zipper open.
SH-CHUCK.
He pulled out two short-barreled, lever-action shotguns. Modified. Sawed-off. Nasty.
"Catch!" Malesh yelled, tossing one through the air.
Kniya caught it one-handed, racking the slide instantly. The sound—CLACK-CLACK—echoed across the courtyard like thunder.
"Oh, yes," Kniya grinned, leveling the wide barrel at the group. "Now this is a conversation starter."
"The pregnant cow sent the herd!" Kniya shouted, aiming at the seven guys. "And we are the butchers! Let this fight begin!"
The Leader's eyes went wide. He fired his pistol—BANG—but the shot went wide, chipping the stone fountain behind them.
"My turn!" Malesh roared.
BOOM.
The first shotgun blast didn't hit a person; it hit the ground right in front of the group. The sheer force of the buckshot tore up the pavement, sending a spray of gravel and dust into their faces.
"My eyes!" one of the goons screamed, clutching his face.
"Fuck your eyes!" Kniya yelled, racking another shell. "Fuck your asses! Get away or get put down!"
The gang charged. They didn't have guns, but they had knives and chains.
"We gonna win this shit!" Kniya laughed maniacally, firing a beanbag round (non-lethal but bone-breaking) into the chest of a guy rushing him with a pipe.
THUD.
The guy folded in half like a lawn chair and flew back into his friends.
"One down!" Kniya screamed. "Six to go! Come on, you ugly bastards!"
Malesh was calm. He wasn't spraying and praying. He was surgically dismantling the line.
He sidestepped a swinging chain, ducked under a clumsy punch, and shoved the barrel of his shotgun into the gut of a attacker.
BOOM.
The guy went flying backward, crashing into the Leader.
"Formation broken," Malesh stated, reloading with a fluid motion. "Leadership structure compromised. Fuck you!"
"Shoot them!" the Leader screamed, fumbling to reload his ancient pistol. "Kill them!"
"With what?" Kniya cackled, jumping over a park bench to get a better angle. "Your bad breath? Eat lead, asshole!"
BOOM. BOOM.
Two more shots rang out. One took out the Leader's knee. The other shattered the window of the Arts Building behind them.
The remaining three guys stopped. They looked at their Leader groaning on the ground. They looked at their friends clutching broken ribs. They looked at Kniya and Malesh, who were standing there, smoking shotguns in hand, looking like demons in school uniforms.
"We gonna win this shit!" Kniya shouted again, pumping the shotgun for emphasis. "Anyone else want to test the market rate of a ass-kicking?"
The three guys dropped their pipes. They turned and ran.
"That's right!" Kniya yelled after them. "Run back to the barn! Tell the cow we said hello!"
Malesh exhaled, flicking the safety back on. He looked at the carnage—bodies groaning on the grass, a destroyed fountain, and a very traumatized student body watching from the windows.
"Inefficient reload time on that pistol," Malesh critiqued, looking at the Leader. "You really should upgrade."
The Price of a Holiday
The smoke from the beanbag rounds hadn't even cleared when the three bullies who ran away returned. They weren't alone.
Marching in front of them was a tall, lanky senior wearing a sash that read "STUDENT COUNCIL PRESIDENT." He looked at the groaning bodies, the shattered fountain, and the ketchup stains on the grass. Then he looked at Malesh and Kniya, who were casually reloading their shotguns.
"This is barbarism!" the President shrieked, pointing a shaking finger at Malesh. "Weapons on campus? Gang violence? Do you know who I am? I am President Sterling!"
"Sterling," Malesh repeated, bored. "Sounds like a silverware brand."
"You are in serious trouble, Bulwadi!" Sterling barked. "I have already conferred with the Vice-Dean. Due to... certain administrative pressures..." he grimaced, clearly hating that he couldn't expel them because of their connections with the Dean and the political heads, "...we cannot expel you. But as the aggressor, Malesh Bulwadi, you are hereby suspended for eight weeks!"
Malesh froze. He slowly lowered his shotgun.
"Eight weeks?" Malesh asked.
"Yes! Effective immediately!" Sterling puffed out his chest.
"And what about him?" Malesh pointed a thumb at Kniya, who was leaning against the statue, grinning.
"Mr. Anderson?" Sterling hesitated. "Well, according to the witnesses, he was the victim of the initial assault. He is... reprimanded. But not suspended."
Kniya burst out laughing. "Hahaha! Hear that, Malesh? I'm the victim! Enjoy your vacation, aggressive boy!"
Malesh looked at Kniya's smug face. Then he looked at Sterling.
"This is an error in calculation," Malesh stated calmly. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a thick stack of bills—5,000 Credits.
He slapped the stack into Sterling's hand.
"What... what is this?" Sterling stammered, looking at the money.
"Compensation," Malesh said smoothly. "You know, the amount people exchange to facilitate government paperwork. The 'Fast-Track Fee'."
"You can't bribe me!" Sterling gasped, clutching the money tightly anyway. "And certainly not to get out of trouble!"
"No, you misunderstood," Malesh said, stepping closer. "This isn't for me. This is for Kniya."
"What?" Kniya stopped laughing.
"If I am getting suspended," Malesh reasoned, staring at the President, "then equality is required. I am purchasing a suspension for Mr. Anderson."
"You can't do that!" Kniya shouted, stepping forward. "What the fuck, Malesh? Did you literally provide a bribe to him in front of everyone? To suspend me?"
"It is not a bribe, Kniya," Malesh replied without looking at him. "It is a 'Joint Liability Fee'. Why don't you understand corporate structure?"
Sterling looked at the 5,000 credits. He looked at Kniya. Greed fought with his moral compass, and greed won instantly.
"Well," Sterling cleared his throat. "Upon further review... Mr. Anderson, you are also suspended. For one week."
"One week?" Kniya scoffed, crossing his arms. "Ha! Still winning. I get a one-week holiday; you get two months. Your bribe is weak, Malesh."
Malesh narrowed his eyes. "Inefficient."
He reached into his other pocket and slapped another stack of 5,000 credits onto Sterling's palm.
"More," Malesh commanded.
Sterling's eyes bulged. "Okay... okay. The evidence is mounting. Mr. Anderson, your suspension is extended to two weeks."
"Are you kidding me?" Kniya yelled. "Stop giving him money!"
"And mine?" Malesh asked Sterling.
Sterling quickly did the math. 10,000 credits was more than his tuition.
"Mr. Bulwadi," Sterling nodded solemnly. "In light of your... cooperation, your sentence is reduced. Two weeks."
Malesh smiled—a cold, satisfied smile. "Perfect. We are synchronized."
"You spent 10,000 credits just to make sure I got suspended with you?" Kniya asked, staring at him in disbelief.
"We work as a team, Kniya," Malesh said, patting him on the shoulder. "We rise together. We get suspended together. Now come on. We have two weeks off to focus on the islands."
Malesh turned to the Student Council President. "Pleasure doing business, Sterling. Don't spend it all on sashes."
They walked away, leaving the President holding a small fortune and the bullies still groaning on the ground.
"You're a petty bastard," Kniya muttered as they walked.
"I prefer 'equity partner'," Malesh replied.
The Calculus of Equality
The smoke from the beanbag rounds drifted over the stunned courtyard. President Sterling stood there, clutching the first stack of 5,000 credits, sweating profusely.
"Alright, alright!" Sterling stammered, trying to regain his composure. "In light of this... 'donation'... I am adjusting the sentencing. Mr. Bulwadi, your suspension is reduced from eight weeks to six weeks. And Mr. Anderson, for your involvement, you are suspended for four weeks."
Malesh froze. The gears in his head turned instantly.
Malesh: 6 Weeks.Kniya: 4 Weeks.Delta: 2 Weeks.
"Wait a minute," Malesh said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. He looked at Kniya, then at Sterling. "I am getting suspended for six weeks. You are only getting four."
"I'm a victim!" Kniya grinned, leaning back against the fountain and checking his nails. "Sterling said so. I was 'coerced' into violence. Four weeks is plenty of time for a vacation."
"Why the fuck are you a victim in this case?" Malesh snapped, pointing a finger at Kniya. "You were literally standing right next to me! You shot the guy with the pipe! I know these guys are literal bastards, they always want me to take the fall. Idiots."
"It's called charisma, Malesh," Kniya laughed. "The President likes me better."
"Inefficient," Malesh growled. "This violates the core principles of our partnership."
He turned back to Sterling, his face stone cold. He reached into his inner pocket and pulled out a second, thicker stack of bills—10,000 Credits.
He slapped it onto Sterling's other hand.
"One more stack," Malesh commanded.
Sterling looked at the money, his eyes bulging. "Mr. Bulwadi, this is highly irregular..."
"We should be equal, you know?" Malesh interrupted, his voice taking on a strange, patriotic tone. "Equality is one of the principles in our Constitution. It is written on the first page! 'All citizens shall stand equal before the law.' Do you hate the Constitution, Sterling?"
"I... no, of course not!" Sterling squeaked.
"Then fix it," Malesh ordered. "If I am doing six weeks, he does six weeks."
"You petty son of a bitch!" Kniya shouted, straightening up. "You're paying him to keep me out of school longer?"
"Equality, Kniya!" Malesh yelled back.
Sterling looked at the 10,000 credits. He looked at the shotgun. He looked at the terrifying logic of the boy in front of him.
"Fine!" Sterling shouted. "In the spirit of... constitutional equality... Mr. Anderson, your suspension is extended to six weeks! You are both suspended for six weeks! Are you happy now?"
"Ecstatic," Malesh said, finally lowering his weapon.
The courtyard was dead silent.
The bullies on the ground, clutching their broken ribs, looked up in pure astonishment. The students watching from the windows had their mouths open. They had seen bribery before, but they had never seen someone bribe an official to increase their own partner's punishment.
"What the fuck is that?" one of the bullies whispered, spitting out a tooth. "Who buys a suspension?"
Malesh walked over to Kniya, who was fuming.
"You owe me 15,000 credits for the bribe," Malesh noted calmly.
"You are unbelievable," Kniya shook his head. "Why do you always have to drag me down with you?"
Malesh looked at him, then looked at the crowd watching them.
"You should always be like that, Kniya," Malesh said, holstering his sawed-off shotgun. "If you are getting shot, your partner should also get shot. It builds character."
"It builds debt," Kniya muttered. "Let's go. We have six weeks to find an island."