I have a complicated relationship with them. We meet and break up, then I find a new one and she leaves me too. You could say it's expected since I have a consumerist attitude, but the pain of the breakup is still there.

  No, I'm not talking about ammo, as one might think. Although, come to think of it, that applies to them too.

  I'm talking about grenades.

  I looked thoughtfully at the grenade lying on the table in front of me. We'd met by chance; I'd taken a part-time job in Echonet searching for a customer's submachine gun that he'd lost while fleeing from the Skags, and which he planned to give to his son ("you know, he's only eight years old, it's a little early for an assault rifle..."). It's Pandora, man. Here, "I'm going to go play an RPG" has its own meaning), and in the process looked into an abandoned cabin. Where I discovered a couple sleeping bandits... why did I assume they were bandits? Well, wanted in Echonet (no reward, unfortunately). Also, their clothes had "BONDIT AND PRAUD WIT THIS" written on them.

  Anyway, one of them put a grenade under his head instead of a pillow. Isn't he an idiot? It is uncomfortable.

  Anyway, a bit of stealth action, and I acquired a tote of ammo, a couple trash guns, and her. Unfortunately, our relationship lasted even less than I expected.

  I was just admiring her form, contemplating where to go next, when suddenly something fell from the sky, causing me to jump back and roll over. The first principle of survival, hammered into me by... level up, really: jump first, think later.

  A large, clawed bird or reptile with feathered wings - and big claws - grabbed my grenade and soared again.

  - You bastard! - I couldn't stop myself. Even magpies on Pandora is Pandorian...

  Well, it wasn't really a magpie, of course. The ECHO identified the critter as a Bloodwing, one of the few flying species of fauna on this crazy planet. Wings of several species - Bloodwings being one of them - yet rakks, that's pretty much it. Of the animals, at least - there are still insects, and some generally incomprehensible shit called "spores", kind of like flying mushrooms.

  Anyway, back to the present. I obviously wasn't going to leave such a shameless robbery to chance - grenades don't grow on trees, not even on Pandora... at least, not to me - so I rushed to my nearby car. I'll catch up to it, and if I don't shoot it, I'll get into the nest. Hmm, if I'm lucky, I'll find something else there...

  With that in mind, I followed the thief. Fortunately, the sky was clear and clean, so I could follow the black dot, though it was a bit difficult to follow the off-road at the same time. Well, the car was designed for such conditions, and the terrain here is generally quite flat, with hard dry ground. Rock and dust, mostly, there are enough bumps, but for my car it is not a problem. It doesn't even bounce my ass too much.

  Still, I can lose it. Give this like-a-bird a little more speed, hide behind a cloud or something, and that's it. There's a lot of possibilities.

  I was lucky, though.

  I didn't have far to go. When a low hill appeared ahead, the wing went down; at first I thought that the nest was on a lone dry tree on the top, but the flyer descended behind the hill. I, in turn, circled this feature and found the bird perched on the shoulder of a man perched on a rock beneath a pole with a remnant of a road sign.

  Skinny and gaunt, in dusty brown or gray clothing, he wore a bandana on his head and glasses that resembled old-fashioned aviators' goggles. His narrow, long, and surprisingly neat black beard caught my eye, but three other things caught my eye more.

  First, the sniper rifle behind the back of the falconer. Secondly, a large bottle in his left hand, from which he was taking a sip.

  And thirdly, a worn, but obviously in good condition revolver in his right hand, pointed in my direction... precisely at my forehead, if my eyes and visor were correct.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  "Hunter Mordecai. You get the impression you've seen him somewhere before..." - said the Echo.

  I stopped the car. I thought for a moment, and got out. It didn't have it's own shield anyway, and if i could dodge at all, it would be easier to do it on my feet. Well, or take cover behind the body of the courier - the driver's seat is too shot through. Definitely need to fix that.

  - Your bird stole my grenade - I reported. - Don't you feed it?

  "Mordecai", if the ECHO's right - if he's known for something, no wonder the name came right off, the AI on this thing is capable of that, - raised an eyebrow at me. He took another sip, then answered. It was hoarse, but it was natural, not like a smoker or a cold.

  - Well, Bloodwing likes snatch things, yes - He set the bottle on the ground and patted his pet with his freed hand; it made a nasty squeaky-squeaky noise in response. Shoved his hand into his belt pouch... hmm, I don't see his ECHO. Pulled out a grenade. - Yours?

  - Well, I don't recognize her face, but it's likely, - I said. Mordecai nodded, and tossed it to me; the Bloodwing hissed again, this time clearly displeased, but his master patted his hand again and he was silent. I, in turn, caught the grenade and digitized it.

  Hmm, it's probably not very safe or sensible to throw grenades, but okay.

  - Thank you, - I nodded. - That was my last one. It's not nice to be taken away from you... Pyotr Dyatlov, technically a technical worker of the Vladoff and their trade representative, in fact - a mercenary of a wide profile. From hunting skags to designing and fixing coffee makers.

  Surprisingly, the latter turned out to be quite a popular service.

  - Mordecai, hunter, - Mordecai announced. Pointing a finger in the direction of his pet. - Bloodwing, bloodwing.

  The 'bird' hissed again, with a note of snickering.

  - Nice to meet you, - I informed him almost honestly. After all, he gave me back the grenade, and, although he continues to hold me at gunpoint, he didn't shoot - in Pandora's conditions it's definitely a good acquaintance. - May I ask what you're doing here?

  Mordecai jabbed his finger at a road sign.

  - Waiting for the bus.

  It was impossible to tell from his tone how serious he was, and any absurdity is possible under Pandora's conditions, but ...

  - This route isn't working yet - I informed him. - It will take some time to set up, I'm telling you this as an engineer. Try it in twenty years.

  That made the hunter chuckle. And put down the revolver.

  - I'll trust an expert. But seriously... Do you know the Hoge gang and the Scarred One?

  I wondered.

  - I've heard something about the former, but I can't say for sure, the latter I don't know.

  - I hunt them both, - Mordecai said. I nodded.

  - Wait a minute.

  I entered the ECHO... oh. From Moxie I bought a list of options for where to look for Eridian artifacts; one of them was "Archaeological Site Number 3", but it was now occupied by bandits, and the notes read "probably Hoge's gang". Hmm.

  - I have a suggestion, - I said. - I have a job related to the alleged location of this Hoge gang. I didn't take job with them myself, since I'm not sure they'll actually be there, but why not check together? If they're there, you get the heads and the bounty, I get a piece of the spoils.

  - What exactly are you interested in? - The hunter asked, taking another sip from the bottle.

  - First of all, the Eridian artifacts, - I admitted honestly. I don't see much point in hiding it. - Anything. And ammunition, which is always in short supply.

  Mordecai tipped the bottle, shook it thoughtfully.

  - Nope, - he sighed. - It's empty.

  Then he stood up and strode toward me.

  - I shouldn't be driving, so I'll just sit behind the turret, if you don't mind.

  Yeah, that way you won't get fined...