The Delivery

Our lives had taken an exciting turn in the past six months. Fitt and I had stepped into the exhilarating world of smuggling, enjoying the adrenaline rush it provided. The reckless streak in our actions was undeniable, but the thrill of the chase and the steady influx of credits blurred the edges of reason. We lived in the moment, burning through our earnings in the whirlwind of high-stake deals and wild parties. I knew our lifestyle wasn't sustainable, but I couldn't deny the sense of liberation it brought. We were having the time of our lives.

One evening, Fitt swaggered towards me, a bag bulging with credits clutched in his hand. The heft of the bag testified to the success of our latest job. "Here's your share, Moe," he said, tossing me the bag. It landed on the table with a satisfying thunk. We had an unspoken agreement to split our earnings fifty-fifty, a mutual understanding cultivated over months of navigating through the cosmos, braving close shaves and challenging assignments.

"Thanks, Fitt," I replied, catching the bag in mid-air. I looked at him, a grin stretching across my face. "What's the next adventure?"

Just as we were savoring our triumph, a local from the town we were in sauntered up to our table. His mysterious demeanor was intriguing, his eyes gleamed with a proposition. "Looking for a job, are we?" he said, his voice laced with a promising undertone.

The job he offered was a straightforward cargo haul to a town about thirty miles away. The promised payment was hefty, an irresistible offer considering the simplicity of the task. We wasted no time in loading up our ship and setting off, chasing the allure of quick credits.

As Fitt filled the cabin with his renditions of "Sweet Child of Mine," we cruised through the void, the hum of our ship's engines a comforting monotone. We arrived at the quaint town late into the night. Its stillness, illuminated by the soft glow of the moons, was eerily tranquil. We found our way to the drop-off point, only to be met with locked doors and an unsettling silence.

"Fitt, this feels weird," I mumbled, scanning the surroundings with apprehension.

"Just a bit," he replied nonchalantly, his eyes mirroring my unease.

Just then, a local woman, evidently drunk, staggered towards us. A broad grin lit up her face as she registered our presence. "More visitors! You must be here for the party!" she slurred, her eyes glinting with excitement.

We shared a hesitant glance before I replied, "Actually, we're here to make a delivery."

She dismissed our protest with a wave of her hand. "All that can wait. Come, join the party first." Overpowered by the tempting promise of food and local hospitality, we reluctantly agreed.

We walked into a lively tavern packed with locals, their loud cheer of welcome hitting us like a wave. The tantalizing aroma of cooked meat and potent brews wafted through the air, teasing our senses. However, the lingering unease returned when I noticed the curious stares from the crowd. Something wasn't right.

While enjoying our meal, I inquired the bartender about our delivery. "Oh, I'll check on that," he replied. "But for now, just enjoy the show."

As if on cue, the room's lights dimmed, and a spotlight illuminated a small stage. The hushed anticipation in the tavern was replaced by an eruption of cheers as the curtains parted, revealing a stunning woman. The applause drowned in the sensual music as she swayed rhythmically, her eyes, as intoxicating as the heady brews, locked onto Fitt and me.

Despite the electric atmosphere, the disquiet I felt was relentless. The cheerful locals, the provocative performance, and the intoxicating rush of the party were all mesmerizing. Yet, beneath the town's lively facade, a sense of mystery persisted, a story waiting to be revealed, and I couldn't ignore the nagging feeling that we were right in the middle of it.