When I returned to the armory, the locked containers were open and empty. Which didn't surprise me, really: I bet Jim had been here. And it's a safe bet that the most valuable items were in them.

  And I can't even make any claims against him. He could have slipped away, but instead he gave me cover from the roof; if it hadn't been for that, the fight with Don would have turned out very differently.

  In the end, I don't have much to complain about. A thorough sweep of the bandit base had made me considerably richer - though most of that "wealth" was in the form of trophy weapons that could be sold, but Claptrap had managed to find a few bandit stashes as well - and replenished my ammunition supply considerably. The armor was not only repaired, but also modernized, and as a cherry on the cake - in the yard I found a working buggy. Well, almost working, but it wasn't hard to repair.

  Let's go to Yellowrock.

  ...I almost missed out on some good money. I was about to leave when the words "bounty on my head" flashed through Claptrap's chatter, automatically filtered by my mind from the general flow.

  It turned out that there was a reward for Don and his bullywang - ECHOnet users had crowdfounded it. So I got out of the buggy and went back to the scene of the fight for proof. Got the liquidation fee, and separately for the heads... there was even a small impromptu auction for them. Then I had to scrape them off and digitize them. A messy business, especially with bullywang because of her anatomy, but money is money...

  ...Pandora is a bad influence on me.

  There's a rock sticking out of the ground, clearly visible from afar, and everything around it is covered in yellow sand. I think I know why this place was named that.

  I quickly noticed the name board at the top of this geologic formation, too; it served as the top rung on a pair of posts on the sides of the cliff leading to the top... well, let's call it a road.

  And underneath the name board, two more were pinned up. One had the word "Wellcum" scrawled in white paint, and the other had two signs: "Fight Arena Open!" and "Visit Moxie's Bar!". Well, well. It's worth a visit for several reasons.

  This... The settlement was not a place of residence, but a kind of cultural center, and i ask the word "cultural" forgive me for that. Simply here were concentrated establishments, to which relatively peaceful residents of Pandora came to relax and spend money - or make money, it is also possible. The only permanent residents here were the maintenance staff and the owners of a few of these establishments.

  This was already evident from a quick look around the relatively populated area, which consisted of only a few buildings.

  I locked the engine of the buggy and got out of it, heading for the bar. It was impossible not to recognize the right building due to the neon glowing signs on it, "Bar Loneliness".

  I had only managed to take a couple steps when a rumbling sound came from the bar. The double doors swung open with a bang, and a short but very broad man in a green bowler hat flew out, spattering blood from a wound on his ruptured chest. Despite this, he attempted to stand up; the locals is very sturdy, as evidenced by the streak above his head demonstrated by the ECHO, which was only a third empty.

  And then she came out of the bar.

  Followed by her owner.

  ...Well, technically, the first one to appear was a red shotgun in the hands of a woman, but that doesn't matter.

  - I'm proud of my caliber!, sweetheart! - announced a slender woman dressed in a purple dress, with the same-color cylinder on her head, with an overabundance of makeup on her face, and fired again.

  ...The calibers is indeed large.

  "Mad Moxie. Don't mess with her..." - my Echo said.

  Maybe I shouldn't go in there.

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  Unfortunately, she's already spotted me.

  - Ho? Jim's buddy? Come on in, sugar. - She turned toward the bar. - And somebody, clean up outside.

  It wasn't so bad inside. For Pandora, it was even great. Music, dim lights, people drinking or talking to each other... At one table a guy was kissing a girl of indeterminate age sitting on his lap.

  - Moxie, you're still as beautiful as ever! - said the robot next to me. - And your calibers is still just as impressive!

  - And you're still just as much of a tattletale, - the hostess said, relaxed, as if she hadn't just shot someone. - But thank you, that's nice of you.

  At the far end of the building, I noticed a familiar face. As expected...

  Jim waved at me.

  - Have a chat, boys, and then come over to me - Moxie said. - For a more... intimate acquaintance.

  I raised an eyebrow, but nodded, and headed over to Slippery's table.

  - Good to see you again, buddy! - he said, smiling broadly. - How did Don like my parting gift?

  - Mostly his people, - I said, sitting down. - They were overjoyed. Don was blown away, too, though. Bottom line.

  Jim nodded sagely.

  - It was as planned. Sharing the spoils?

  - Including the ones in the locked containers? - I asked. He nodded.

  - Fair enough.

  In the locked containers, in addition to some money and a couple of premium guns - Slippery took a sniper, I took a shotgun - there was something that Slippery was aiming for from the beginning.

  The fact of the matter was that the Dahl outpost we'd robbed was, in fact, a spy intercept station, collecting Hyperion service information. According to the adventurer's estimate, even though it was somewhat outdated, these archives could be sold to Hyperion's competitors for a handsome sum.

  I didn't really like the idea of reminding my theoretical superiors of myself, but I had no other sales channels, and money is money, as I've already mentioned. I ended up surrendering some of my trophies in exchange for data and a shotgun.

  Of course, Jim screwed me.

  For better or worse? Which one's the bad one?

  Oh, both.

  - It's garbage, - I informed him calmly, taking a quick look at the data. I was expecting something like that, so I stayed perfectly calm.

  - That's what you get, buddy, - said Jim, who was busy selling guns through the ECHO. - But it's not how useful the information is, it's how much you can get it for. I just got a good deal, now it's your turn.

  I sighed and nodded. Okay, I'll make a compilation and then offer it to someone in Vladoff...

  - Okay, con man, be happy. Who knows, maybe we'll work together again.

  He waved his hand absentmindedly, continuing to stare at the holographic screen projected by his ECHO, and I got up from the table.

  And now - gals.

  In fact, I couldn't bring myself to call Moxie a "gal". Despite the excess of makeup on her face - so much so that I mentally compared it to clown makeup, or rather theatrical makeup - something else came up.

  I mean not only respect for the impressive collection of guns behind the bar.

  - Have a seat, sugar - with the same languid notes in her voice with which she shot that big guy, Moxie said. - I don't bite... during working hours.

  - Pandora... - I muttered, sitting down on one of the free chairs in front of the counter. Moxie hesitated a little, but then nodded.

  - Yes, our planet... makes an impression on guests, Mister Vladoff's Sales Representative.

  I raised an eyebrow questioningly.

  - Marcus Kincaid is my ex-husband - she explained. - We communicate from time to time.

  I chuckled to myself. Something will have to be done with this local monopolist as well.

  - I see - I said instead. - So, how can I help? Whatever Jim says, take the money for the doll from him - it was his idea.

  - Already - the woman smiled slightly. - And what about how to help... I have something to do for a strong, attractive man... - she glanced at me - not afraid to release a hot charge at the first meeting... and with good technical knowledge.

  Looks like I'll have to kill someone and build something.

  Everything is as usual.