Blood on my jets

In the perpetual neon haze of Rocket Row, the back‑alley bar of New Shanghai hums with cheap liquor and louder gossip. Ash Holcomb, a Detached Operative, makes his living as a hired‑gun in the mess left by the Terro‑Martian War, leaping from one planetary skirmish to the next. The system’s unofficial police force is a loose coalition of freelancers who pick sides in the endless power struggles of fledgling warlords. Life here is a blend of gritty noir and retro‑futuristic swagger, where a single misstep can drown you in blood‑stained mud.

When a familiar woman walks back into Ash’s world, pockets heavy with high‑stakes cash and eyes full of murder, his routine job turns into something far more personal. He’s drawn into a tangled web of rival factions, dubious allies, and a police force that smells of tobacco and betrayal. As he sifts through fog‑laden streets and smoky bars, Ash must decide whether to keep running the dangerous racket or try to pull himself out of the endless cycle of violence. Listeners are treated to razor‑sharp dialogue, vivid world‑building, and a hard‑boiled hero who’s as weary of the blood as he is skilled with a gun.