Xarrix is sitting across the table from Wil. They are at his favorite bar again, the privacy screen active and shimmering. “Your little screw-up nearly cost me my entire profit margin.”
“Sorry, I’m not Rambo, or MacGyver, or whatever.”
The reptilian crime lord makes a clicking sound. “Who’s Rambo? Who’s Mac gubber?”
“It’s Mac—”
Xarrix raises a clawed hand. “I really don’t care. The issue here isn’t your weird human colloquialisms. It’s your lack of useful skills.”
Wil grimaces. “That hurts.”
“The truth does. My intel might have been incomplete, but if you had any type of experience as a smuggler or spy or… anything for that matter, you’d have been able to get out of there without costing me so much.” He picks at a plate of what Wil first thought were noodles, but now sees are actually worms with tiny faces. Tiny, vaguely human faces. Wil is staring open-mouthed at the plate as Xarrix grabs a pinch of the worms and drops them into his mouth. He looks up, feeling Wil’s eyes on him. “What?”
Wil shakes his head and looks away, as one stray human-face-worm is slurped into Xarrix’s reptilian maw.
“Here’s what we’re going to do: I have a connection on Wargun Tor who can do some brain stuff to you.”
“Uh, you can fuck right off.” Wil starts to stand up. “You’re not doing, and I quote, brain stuff, to me. I quit, I’m out, whatever.”
“Oh, calm down, pink skin. It’s not what you think. They can embed training and skills into your brain. After the procedure, the skills and knowledge will begin to surface like regularly-acquired skills. It’s like going to training, without going to training.”
Wil sits back down, grabbing his drink. “Okay, that sounds kinda cool. Can I learn Kung Fu? Maybe pilot a helicopter?”
“Kung what? What’s a helicopter? Wait, no—I still don’t care. You can’t acquire muscle memory or anything like that; it’s more knowledge and know-how.”
Wil nods. “Okay, sure. I’m interested. Where is Wargun Tor?”
“I’ll send the coordinates. Your ship should be repaired by the end of the day tomorrow.” He reaches over to deactivate the privacy screen. “And don’t screw up.”
“Love you, too.” Wil stands to leave, grabbing his grum, and heads out into the bar. As he passes, he glances over at the bartender, and immediately looks back to the door and keeps walking.