Ctar had been thinking about the silence of his only confirmed comrade. Had it been something he said? Surely the younger man would not have expected bounty hunting to be easy? They lived in dangerous times, at the whims and mercy of dangerous men. If you'd been traveling, hell if you'd been off most worlds for any length of time, you'd know that was the case through and through. Perhaps the boy (As Ctar now resolved to refer to him, for his augmentations did not easily betray his youth and due to the boy, Ctar estimated, being somewhere in his late teens to early twenties)had assumed some kind of added durability contract same with being a bounty hunter. Ctar feared for the boys survival, and also feared for his own. How many other comrades would he have, filled with confidence of having the title and employment, while lacking the core survivability. Ctar realised that he and the young man could not be the only members of the future cadre to occupy the bar. He began to look around, scanning for potential comrades and rivals.
While performing this scan, it was a good idea, Ctar believed, to divide the roles individuals are likely to fill, and then begin looking for criteria. For one, there were bruisers like himself. Ctar trusted bruisers. Men never got much simpler or more obvious than when they were the kind of men whose only real talent was to be able beat someone into submission, whether it be by blade, fist, bullet or blunt implement. Then there were the supports. Supports encompassed people like Ctar's companion; weaker members of the cadre, specialised in some manner: Hackers, mechanics, medics and scientists. Ctar's opinion of support comrades was mixed. On one hand, they were often likely to make or break a cadre. Trying to operate without a medic, in his experience, was like trying to catch sharks with a brick and scrap of cloth, difficult and dangerous, not likely to yield rewards. Mechanics and scientists had their uses, especially in picking up details that might otherwise get everybody killed. Hackers, however, struck a chord of distrust deep into Ctar's heart. They never seemed quite with reality, always seeing a world invisible to all but themselves and others like themselves.
Then, finally, there were the knaves. Snipers, thieves, backstabbers and rogues. Ctar did not like this sort of person. They had secrets, too many secrets, and Ctar had never really learned to trust a secret to a person, paranoia specific to them triggering whenever near them or whenever information was withheld. These were the people, Ctar firmly believed, who were only in it for the money. Bounty hunting purely for the cutter had always irritated Ctar, and when piled on with the kind of person who bites a man in the back then kill him to his face, Ctar found it hard to keep his temper with such men. He could not deny their uses, they could turn the tide of a fight in a manner of seconds, but acknowledging such utility did not dull the dislike. In fact, it accentuated it. The idea that men of black hearts and dark intentions could be more successful in this profession angered him, cold, simmering spite dwelled for such people in his belly.
With the thought of his belly, the hunger once again returned to the forefront of Ctar's mind. He had left it too long, become too distracted, and now the earlier clawing seemed gentle compared to the pain, the dull, scraping pain of the void in his stomach. Ctar forgot all but the hunger and grabbed the nearest thing of viable consumption; in this case, a waitress. He pulled down his respirator desperately, his jaw becoming wide, before looking into the girls face. It was full of fear, with tinges of disgust. Absolute panic, something Ctar had not seen for a long time. The memories such an expression stirred up, on the face of such a person, shocked him back into sentience, his will once again maintained. His mouth slammed shut. He swallowed, as the girls terrified eyes began to wet.
"Please can you bring me the biggest piece of meat you have? Or as much as you can? Quickly? Please? I can pay." He said slowly, trying to maintain his blocks against the urges. The girl nodded quickly, and ran into the back of the bar. Ctar pulled his rebreather back to his face and looked around, frightened of lynch mobs materializing to punish his urges.
She returned with multiple uncooked, unappealing steaks, made of some cheap, alien meat. It was was hard to care, however, as Ctar forced them down his gullet, at a rate that would be too much for someone that was not Ctar. Only slight mastication occurred, as steak after steak was gruesomely, carelessly forced down. With each one, the hunger retreated, step by step, until it was once again; subdued, but not gone. The hunger never left. A howl came through the bar. Ctar by instinct believed it to be at his uncouth, desperate consumption, but as he turned, he saw what it was. Another tall, muscular and heavily augmented man was in the bar it seemed, though it seemed his were of a mechanical nature. This was indicated by the fact that he was screaming in front of small woman whom he'd (Ctar assumed) been accosting, with no visible wounds. The screaming subsided, and Ctar saw some words parse through the mechanised phantoms lips. Ctar looked her over once again; white eyes, most likely some form of augment, nature unknown. Arm at least half mechanical, obvious (and expensive) cybernetic augmentation, and a pistol. It was apparent to Ctar that had just witnessed the capabilities of a skilled hacker, and likely a mercenary too. Ctar considered approach, but another did so just before him full of confidence.
The man, Ctar was sure of, was either a soldier or a mercenary. He was large in build, and was not afraid to show his considerable muscle. Also on display was his cybernetic attachments, similar to the woman he was sitting opposite, but on both arms. He was the kind of man you'd assume to be roughly hewn from a oak tree; brown, large, intimidating and coarse. A bruiser through and through, Ctar could affirm from his body alone, but what added some doubt was his seeming lack of weapons. Could it be that the man, like Ctar, only used his hands? That would be interesting, to have two brawlers fighting simultaneously. Time would tell.
The observation of the bar's inhabitants continued, until Ctar's vision came upon a small man. As soon as eye contact was made, Ctar's thoughts were pierced by those bright green beacons, shining at him like a prison spotlight. The man, as far as he could tell, had been staring. This was not uncommon, as many people stared as Ctar, but this man seemed different; there was far more loathing in his eyes than usual. He was carrying an odd device, one Ctar could not recognise, along with what he assumed was the ammunition for said. Additionally Ctar could spot the two blades the man was sporting on his person, suited for brutality. The man, potentially, was another hunter, but if he was a mercenary like Ctar suspected, he was a knave if he ever saw one. The rebreather came down, and Ctar gave the man a great, toothy smile. He did not want to make his loathing obvious.
Surveillance continued, Ctar happy with his belief the man had seen him, until another interesting head came into view, this time wearing the hat of a hunter. Ctar was sure the was a hunter, though what kind he was Ctar could not be sure. The hat had an interesting look, but the coat was even more striking. It appeared to be the scales of some desert lizard, though not any kind Ctar had encountered. The man's war wounds were obvious in his cybernetic attachment, though as far as Ctar could tell some kind of utility could be contained within. Potentially willingly had it removed? Ctar saved that thought for later. Dual blades sat at the man's hips, along a pistol. They were small blades, unlike the other mans, these ones were finer and thinner, suited to a knave's style. But along with the pistol Ctar had a hard time figuring if he was could be a bruiser instead. He looked honest enough, like the triggers and slingers Elre used to idolise, and Ctar had idolised through her impersonation of them. Ctar realised he was making assumptions; not all hunters were bounty hunters. It was entirely possible the man was just a simple man from a more inhospitable landscape.
Interesting people tended to come into the bounty hunting business, and those were the most interesting people Ctar could spot in the room. He turned back to the waitress. She flinched at his call.
"Can I possible have some more?" He asked quietly, putting his credit stick forward.
