Exhausted, starving, and injured, Jazz is captured and tortured by an island-troll crime boss and his overeager goon that just happens to be a sasquatch. She manages to receive a deadly injury while making her escape, only to land dead in the path of an oncoming train. Yet somehow her day is about to get even worse. How does she do it?
PeeDee3 stops by Dollarworld’s overstocked arsenal outlet with a mighty long shopping list (he’s completely out of red herring grenades) and a coupon for uncle Nezbit’s Spicy Brain Sauce burning a hole in the pocket of his quadra-sleeved trench coat. But the, buy the brain extractor, get the sauce free offer just might be too good to be true.
Does anyone else smell a trap?
In the custody of the enforcer corps, Jazz is facing a long stint in the mallow mines. But the jokes on them, because the magical stone in her belly is about to backlash, causing her a horrific and painful death and robbing them all of the pleasure of turning her into a slave.
Good plan, Jazz.
Jazz, armed with a bevy of weapons and her favorite motorcycle, is putting Clowntown behind her. The Nittsburg boarder is just minutes away and she desperately needs to scrub the magical stone gurgling in her belly. But she has the Kriscrossa, the Crank’s elite fighter squadron, on her tail. Seems like Jazz has two choices, run and get herself shot, or stand and fight and get herself shot.
Jazz has less than twenty four hours to cross seven city blocks, get to her office, and scrub the Not Now Stone in her pickle jar of Soul-lution or she’ll suffer every injury the stone had ever healed four-fold. Piece of cake, or it would be if she wasn’t in Clowntown, hadn’t gotten trapped inside a haunted house, and her name wasn’t Jazz, Monster Collector.
Fafafalala, a planet with a constantly changing past, present, and future, it’s one of the most dangerous places in the galaxy and the bug’s barely keeping his antennae attached to his head, and his head attached to his thorax. Unknown to PeeDee3, his mark’s hired a gun of his own, the lethal disco-dancing assassin, Convoy Shasta Badself. The bug may have just met his windshield.
Jazz walked away from a crash landing and right into the monster ghetto known as Clowntown. She’s hurt, tired, hungry and needs to make it out before dark as even her shadow sight won’t do much good against the residents of this nightmare neighborhood. If she keeps moving, keeps quiet, and gets lucky she might make it out unnoticed. But the only luck Jazz ever seems to have is bad, really bad.
PeeDee3’s latest mark fled to the one place the galaxy’s most feared and least liked insectiod assassin might not be able to find him, the chronologically unstable planet, Fafafalala. Peddling a misappropriated unicyclone halfway across the galaxy with the Galactic Space Patrol hot on his tail and their photosynthetic torpedo tubes fully charged, the bug’s in deep frass this time.
Jazz is a deferred species bonds collector, which means she collects monsters, and she’s all too happy to do it. But today she’s running an errand so trivial it hardy justifies her attention. But when a squadron of Cranks start trying to blow her and her sentient flycraft, Ship, out of the air, it will take all of her expertise to survive.
Peedee3 has been hired by a ‘Dillo, a dame built like a brick house, meaning she’s even tougher than he is. Soon he’s traversing the galaxy accompanied by a slippery eel with his own plans. Today the bug will face loss of life and limbs at the paws of a professional cat armed with a SST launched knievel missile. A bug never had it so good. File under Sci-Fi Noir Comedy Series
PeeDee3 is one bad bug with a zeal to kill...for a price. But now he's trailing his very last mark and this hit’s on the house because revenge is footing the bill. With his trusty bowling ball cannon at his exoskeletonized side and his complex eyes opened wide all he needs is a target. But time is running out because the death he’s avenging is his own.
File under Sci-Fi Noir Comedy Series