Roger Black, a/k/a Whisker the Mad, author of the Riotfish, Inc. series

About Roger Black

Tue, 16 Dec 2025 00:32:47 -0600

Roger Black, a/k/a Whisker the Mad

Once upon a time I was a software contractor. Then I decided to write stories about orcs and elves shooting each other with Really Big Guns. The end.

FAQ

How can I give you money?

I’m glad you asked! You can buy The Admiral & the Assistant on Amazon (or just read it, if you have Kindle Unlimited:)

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

How can I find out when new chapters or projects are released?

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

How can I give you money?

I’m glad you asked! You can buy The Admiral & the Assistant on Amazon (or just read it, if you have Kindle Unlimited:)

The Admiral & The Assistant on Amazon

You can also support me on Patreon (advance chapters available).

Patreon

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

Where else are you on the internet?

Royal Road Scribble Hub Roger's Mailing List Patreon Reddit Romance for Men Minkly.io Email Facebook

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Why would you do this?

I had some free time and a spare text editor laying around. Also some deranged yet supportive friends. And I started putting stories together and nobody made me stop, so here we are.

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

Did you know that your site has a bad case of the butt-uglies?

I know it’s ugly. I like ugly. Ugly lasts. If I made a beautiful, modern website, in six months it would look dated and stupid, whereas ten years from now, it will be just as ugly as it is today without any effort on my part.

Ugly is forever.

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

Dear Author, are you… okay?

No, but not in a way you need to worry about.

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

“The Admiral and the Assistant” now in audiobook form!

Do you like stories about smooching aliens?

Do you like big honkin’ explosions in space?

Do you want an audiobook that’s as long as a full work week?

The Admiral and the Assistant is now available as an audiobook, narrated by Ronnie Rowlands and Skylar Rae Guernsy. Thanks go out to Royal Guard for putting this together!

P.S. The next volume: “The Quiet War” is nearly done drafting. More details soon!

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

“Brass, Bone, and Steel” is serializing on Royal Road and Scribble Hub , check it out!

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

“The Admiral and the Assistant” is now available on Amazon!

All three volumes are available for purchase as a single omnibus edition OR free to read through Kindle Unlimited!

Thanks to Royal Guard Publishing!

Brass, Bone, & Steel

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

Fortney Nurani, the desert princess of Namarûn, carries a dangerous secret.

By day she maneuvers the royal court with her strength, headstrong ferocity, and stubborn loyalty. By night she becomes a masked hunter, stalking the city’s shadows to protect the helpless.

Now a new treaty with the steampunk nation of Arden promises progress, but its envoys bear motives as intricate and perilous as the machines they create. And when Fortney’s path leads her into their lands, she finds unexpected allies who can help her grow in power beyond anything she’s ever imagined.

Brass, Bone, & Steel

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

<table style="border-collapse: collapse; width: 100%; overflow: hidden; background-color: #34495e; color: #fff" border="1"><tbody><tr><td><div class="row"><div class="col-md-2"><div style="text-align: center; margin: 10px 5px;"><a href="https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/143862/brass-bone-steel" rel=" ugc nofollow"><img src="https://www.royalroadcdn.com/public/covers-large/143862-brass-bone-steel.jpg?time=1765780795" /></a></div><p style="text-align:center;"><a href="https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/143862/brass-bone-steel" rel=" ugc nofollow">Brass, Bone, & Steel</a></p></div><div class="col-md-9"><div style="margin: 10px 5px; color:#ffffff"><p>Fortney Nurani, the desert princess of Namarûn, carries a dangerous secret.</p><p>By day she maneuvers the royal court with her strength, headstrong ferocity, and stubborn loyalty. By night she becomes a masked hunter, stalking the city’s shadows to protect the helpless.</p><p>Now a new treaty with the steampunk nation of Arden promises progress, but its envoys bear motives as intricate and perilous as the machines they create. And when Fortney's path leads her into their lands, she finds unexpected allies who can help her grow in power beyond anything she's ever imagined.</p><p>She’ll need it. Namarûn’s peace is fraying under a rising rebellion, hidden conspiracies, and a cult of unkillable assassins intent on tearing the kingdom apart.</p><p>Caught between palace intrigue and the dangers of her secret life, Fortney must outmaneuver enemies who already know too much. If her steel heart falters, the rebellion’s dark designs will consume everything she loves.</p></div></div></div></td></tr></tbody></table>

Riotfish, Inc.

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

Not everybody would hire an orc as their military strategist, but David Fleer would. He’d also use a little old lady as his getaway driver, and a deranged lizardman who clings to reality like a nudist clings to a cactus.

Maybe that’s why he’s on the verge of going out of business.

Fleer runs– or tries to run– Riotfish, Inc., a hard-luck mercenary outfit working cheap contracts for megacorporations who don’t want to get their hands dirty. He’d be better off fielding real soldiers, but he’s grown to love his misfits. Plus, they’re all he can afford.

Riotfish, Inc.: In Debt

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

30 miles outside Concordium
Unincorporated Territory
June 21, 2443

David Fleer peered worriedly through one of the gun ports of the Battle Wagon. The deceptively pastoral landscape drifted by, grasslands and gentle green hills fading in the distance to friendly forests. Occasional grass-eating animals stood around, contemplatively grinding away at their cud.

The Riotfish mercenaries hunkered in the Battle Wagon as it trundled across the landscape on the poorly-maintained road, followed closely by a luxury gravcar that was easily worth ten times as much as their vehicle.

Riotfish, Inc.: In Debt

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

The brakes locked hard, tumbling everyone except for Little Timmy, who was holding one of the hand straps.

“Fire in the hole!” yelled Little Timmy.

“Wait!” cried Fleer.

Another explosion, and another spray of animal parts. The largest hornspitter roared and charged. The brakes were locked, but the impact still knocked the Battle Wagon forward three feet, its tires leaving thick black streaks on the road.

“Fine!” Fleer fumed. “We’ll go loud. Roger, take that big one out!”

Riotfish, Inc.: In Debt

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

David Fleer had only thought being a corporate assassin was dangerous. Running a business, he decided, was worse.

He stared down through the rungs at the ground thirty feet below, clutching the creaking green ladder as it swayed under him. He was trying to hold on to the paint and the brush and the ladder with too few hands as a stiff wind pushed him around.

“I should have hired someone to do this,” he said out loud. Painting wouldn’t have been his first choice, but it needed to be done and it got him out of the HQ. The miasma from the Battle Wagon’s hornspitter misadventure had seeped out of the garage into the rest of the building, mixing with the odors of stale humanity, machine oil, and indifferently prepared meals. Fleer felt that the air outside, for all that it was summertime in the Industrial District, was a marked improvement.

Riotfish, Inc.: In Debt

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

Fleer pulled up the financial spreadsheets. He had gotten the painting done, for a given definition of done, and had come back in to work out how to cover the rest of the month, since the Galloway job had ended in disaster. Bernard Walker was scheduled to be in later, and theoretically he might pay them, but it was more likely he would simply be bringing in a fresh batch of excuses.

Riotfish, Inc.: In Debt

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

It was two days later when Fleer strode back into the rec room with a huge grin on his face. Little Timmy was stretched out on the sofa watching the holovid. D’khara was hunched over a datapad with a worried frown, reading a technical manual. Roger was splayed out on the rug, staring raptly at the patterns in the worn floor covering. Mrs. Meade was peering down through her reading spectacles as she worked on some knitting.

Riotfish, Inc.: In Debt

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

Fleer took a deep breath. It was his least favorite time of the month. But this was the last thing he had to wrap up before the conference.

He stood before a drab building with a concrete exterior, working himself up to go inside. A weathered sign overhead proclaimed that this was “Mercenary’s Guild Branch Office #72”.

The ancient glass door squealed in protest as he pushed through. He pasted a false smile on his face. Maybe she wouldn’t be here today. Maybe she was sick. Maybe she had finally died of pure nastiness and been decently interred, probably in a piano box. Maybe she–

Riotfish, Inc.: In Debt

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

The Battle Wagon rocked gently from side to side as it rolled slowly to its destination, driving into the sinking sun. D’khara sat in the back, across from Little Timmy and Roger. Oliver’s massive, shadowed bulk was shoehorned into the passenger seat, and Mrs. Meade was driving.

“Do you have an ETA for us, Mrs. Meade?” Oliver asked.

“We should be there in about fifteen minutes.”

Mrs. Meade sat hunched at the wheel, her frail form lost in the giant driver’s seat.

Riotfish, Inc.: In Debt

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

The bullet skipped off of the heavy, armor-impregnated glass. Mrs. Meade waved at the guard. He fired twice more, to no effect. A final series of clanks sounded under the Battle Wagon.

“There it goes,” she said. “See? It took no time at all. Nothing for you to worry about, Mr. Oliver.”

“Gooooooooooo,” Little Timmy whined.

Mrs. Meade shifted back into reverse and applied the accelerator again. This time the front wheels gripped and pushed the Battle Wagon backward. The gate bent and buckled. With a creak and a rumble of disintegrating stonework, the pillars gave way and the Battle Wagon crashed to the ground.

Riotfish, Inc.: In Debt

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

Inside the mansion, a roomful of serious men with serious guns stood listening to another serious man. He stood in front of a whiteboard covered in serious diagrams talking about serious business.

The men were cleanly outfitted in maroon uniforms, each with a silver star on the right breast pocket over the legend “Star Security”, professionally squared away, each with a shiny clean submachine gun strapped to their chest, angled up under the logo.

Riotfish, Inc.: In Debt

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

D’khara crept down the dark hallway, shotgun stock tight against his shoulder, nervously swinging the barrel back and forth; left-to-right, spinning around to check behind him, spinning back, peering at dark corners, looking for movement, anything to pull a trigger at.

He was tracking back westward, following the occasional distant whump that signaled another one of Roger’s grenades going off. Roger, at least, was clearly still having a good time.

Riotfish, Inc.: In Debt

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

D’khara keyed his radio.

“Oliver? I think I’ve found the file room. I don’t know how far away you are, I’m on the second floor, west end of the house. Over.”

A few long seconds passed before Oliver keyed back in, out of breath.

“D’khara you, go ahead, take it.” huffed Oliver. “I’m, tied up, right now, over.”

D’khara gazed quizzically at his radio for a moment, then frowned. He didn’t know exactly what they were looking for, some kind of land acquisition document. He hadn’t understood that part of the briefing very well. He’d just nodded along since Oliver was handling it anyway.

Riotfish, Inc.: In Debt

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

Oliver was hiding in the sparse woods at the rear of the property. He was standing behind a tree in the hopes of not being seen.

The woods were poor for hiding in. The trees were narrow and tall and straight, with no low limbs to provide cover. Some kind of pine, Oliver thought. Moreover, the trees were spaced fairly far apart.

The only thing keeping him hidden was the failing light. The falling dusk cast weird shadows throughout the thinly wooded area, and the security forces hunting him had flashlights mounted to their rifles. The beams swept back and forth across the lawn occasionally flashing by him, making his breath stop.

Riotfish, Inc.: In Debt

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

D’khara, Oliver, and Roger ran across the dark lawn, away from the growing conflagration at the mansion. Roaring billows of flame already obscured half the place, and the few remaining guards were focused less on the escapees, and more on escaping the fire themselves.

The Riotfish caught sight of the white Battle Wagon, red now in the glow of the massive fire, and redoubled their efforts to reach it as fast as possible. In the pell-mell dash D’khara’s foot fetched up against something, and he sprawled full-length on the ground.

Riotfish, Inc.: In Debt

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

The Riotfish were gathered in the lounge, listening to Fleer’s news.

“Okay! Guys! We need to get this place in top shape by the time this auditor shows up. We want to look professional and clean and creditworthy. We need to prove to this guy that we are a viable, vibrant business that will totally pay back all the money we owe him.”

Worried murmurs rustled around the room.

“How– how much of a problem is this audit?” D’khara asked timorously, as though he could not see the panic openly oozing from Fleer’s every pore.

Riotfish, Inc.: In Debt

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

Stewart Pearce sedately drove his sedan through progressively seedier neighborhoods, finally reaching a dead-end street. He didn’t like driving on these poorly maintained roads; the uneven surface was rough on the gravwells. But he went where his job took him, and today it took him to– he’d pursed his full lips when he’d read the name this morning– the “Riotfish.” Clearly, an organization that failed to take itself at all seriously.

Riotfish, Inc.: In Debt

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

Oliver walked into the armory.

“D’khara, have you heard when the auditor will be arriving? I have my– oh! He’s here!”

“Yes, I’m quite here.” Pearce was fruitlessly scrubbing at his hands with an oily rag while watching D’khara dig hopelessly through piles of old paperwork in the desk drawers. “Quite– uh. What are you?”

“Oh! My apologies! My name is Oliver Gutshell, and I am Riotfish’s Lead Strategist. I’m also a field operative, at need.”

Riotfish, Inc.: In Debt

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

“Mr. Fleer? What’s happening?”

“Nothing! Nothing to worry about. Nothing at all. Let’s get back to work, shall we?”

“Are you quite sure?”

“Yep! Now, if you’ll look here at the revenues for last year–”

“AWWWWNNGG!”

Fleer smiled through his sudden flop sweat. The groaning had a distinctly Oliver-esque tinge. The rumbling grew in fits and starts.

Fleer was trying desperately not to think about it, but the main restroom shared a wall with the back of his office. It was an inconvenience he was used to, but it was not something he wanted to deal with right now.

Riotfish, Inc.: In Debt

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

Five days.

Five days of nothing.

Five days of scraping through the Guild’s jobs board, looking for anything even remotely profitable, and nothing.

Five days closer to Stewart Pearce and his stupid glasses and his stupid gravcar and his stupid datapad and his stupid default. Five days less to earn an astronomical sum of money.

Fleer had even gone through and set up a spreadsheet to tell him what they’d have to earn every day to make the deadline. The answer wasn’t pretty, and it got uglier every day that he spent floundering around looking for work.

Riotfish, Inc.: In Debt

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

Fleer straightened his tie as the elegant, slim brass and glass elevator rose steadily through the atrium. The atrium soared all eighteen stories of the building, and the south wall was glass, tinted to keep out the sun. The atrium was a hundred yards across, with a huge marble fountain at one end, and a lush forest of carefully manicured trees at the other. Classical statuary was liberally placed throughout, positioned with tasteful artistry.

Riotfish, Inc.: In Debt

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

D’khara and Oliver stared each other down in the back of the Battle Wagon, gazes snapping sparks. Tensions were high.

“That is purest nonsense!” Oliver roared. “It’s not only unlikely but entirely improbable!”

“I’m telling you,” D’khara said, slapping the back of his hand into his open palm, “Batman could absolutely beat Aquaman. He just hasn’t needed to.”

“But Aquaman has the entire ocean at his disposal. In a worst case scenario, he could retreat to the safety of the Marianas trench where Batman can’t even get to him.”

Riotfish, Inc.: In Debt

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

Shaking himself, Oliver switched back to planning mode. “Now, Roger and Little Timmy, this is our only exit. D’khara and I are going to fetch David, and it is vital that this exit remains open for us. We’ll return shortly.”

The two nodded in understanding. Oliver and D’khara headed for the elevators.

D’khara pressed the up button on the elevator. They waited.

“That Zentech cannon works pretty well,” D’khara said.

Riotfish, Inc.: In Debt

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

The two nodded in understanding. Oliver and D’khara headed for the elevators.

D’khara pressed the up button on the elevator. They waited.

“That Zentech cannon works pretty well,” D’khara said.

Riotfish, Inc.: In Debt

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

The soldier darted forward, sliding into cover behind a support column near the east elevator. He set himself, shaking his head. They were pulling off a classic flanking maneuver, and this mercenary was just letting it happen. For all his shrieking and firing, he had the tactical competence of a mushroom.

How had someone so clueless lasted this long?

It didn’t matter. He settled himself into his new position and raised his rifle, sighting on the stone planter. He spit some more rounds at it, watching as the continuous autofire ate away at the thick-walled decoration. It was solid and well-built, but it was in no way designed to withstand the kind of hammering they were giving it.

Riotfish, Inc.: In Debt

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

The door was locked, but the mirror was already shattered, so he kicked out the remaining glass as quietly as he could manage. He’d gone to all the trouble to wait until he was in a soundproof room to start shooting; he didn’t want to draw attention now.

The narrow-nosed man was lying on the floor next to his seat behind the bank of computers. The killing shot had gone through his throat instead of his head, but considering that Fleer had been firing blindly into a mirror, he felt that was still a pretty good outcome. In any case, it got the job done. The narrow-nosed man was no longer a threat.

Riotfish, Inc.: In Debt

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

Fleer steeled himself to face Adler. Fleer recognized that he was not the best negotiator, and Adler was used to wheeling big deals.

He’d made a slightly outlandish boast to the crew that he could get 10,000 credits for the little datasink, but realistically he was hoping to clear 5,000. That was still a pretty nice little extra on their payday. But if he could get that up closer to 10,000, that would net them a clean 100,000 credits for the job. Round numbers made him happy. Especially when they had so many digits.

Riotfish, Inc.: In Debt

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

The video on Fleer’s screen chattered, went blocky, then began to clear. Fleer turned up the volume to hear over the celebration in the rec room.

The grim visage of his creditor stabilized.

“I’m afraid you misunderstand, Mr. Fleer. The full amount must be paid by the deadline, no exceptions. While Crediture appreciates your partial payment, it does not extend or modify the deadline.”

“But that was 200,000 credits!” Fleer cried.

Riotfish, Inc.: In Debt

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

The next morning, Fleer slumped at his desk, arms hanging down by the sides of his chair.

He felt bad about lying last night. But he couldn’t bring himself to crush them. Not while everybody was celebrating. Especially Mrs. Meade. And Oliver. It would have been like kicking a puppy. A nine-foot tall puppy.

So that was that. Now he’d have to pick himself up and go tell them they’d failed.

Riotfish, Inc.: In Debt

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

It was an hour later when they finished the call. Daugereaux was a shrewd negotiator, and while Fleer had been able to squeeze some extra concessions out of the old Cajun, he hadn’t gotten nearly as much as he’d thought he would. He slumped back, exhausted and satisfied.

Oliver, who had tuned out for most of the negotiations, perked up.

“Okay David, so what did you find? You would never have jumped on a contract that quickly unless you detected another angle in it.”

Riotfish, Inc.: In Debt

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

Once Fleer was alone in his office, he let out a little squeal of delight and spun around in his office chair.

Gold! Wonderful stuff!

This was amazing! Even if his very conservative calculations were two times too high, there was still enough gold there to fundamentally transform the Riotfish.

Pay off Pearce? Pfft. Maybe he could offer Pearce a loan!

That much money would be enough to staff up with real professionals, and get some real equipment. Serious equipment. Replace the Battle Wagon with something that had been manufactured during his lifetime. A fleet of them. Maybe even start a small air support team.

Riotfish, Inc.: In Debt

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

The Riotfish crew was packed into the Battle Wagon, along with enough artillery to start a minor war. Mrs. Meade was driving, and with Fleer taking the first shift as navigator, Oliver was forced to sit in the back.

While there was technically more room in the back than in the passenger seat, it was crammed full of the scuffed, worn, durable fiberglass equipment crates holding their ordnance. Crates had been fitted under the benches, and every available slot.

Riotfish, Inc.: In Debt

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

It was perhaps two hours later. The Riotfish were a study in impatience, standing outside the cabins, watching over their equipment in the relentless heat.

“Are you sure you told him the right place?” Oliver asked.

“For the fifth time, yes. There’s only one place like this in town. I don’t think he would have trouble finding it regardless. I wonder if something happened.”

“Something’s going to happen to him, being this late,” D’khara muttered darkly.

Riotfish, Inc.: In Debt

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

After a leisurely time with the coffee, Daugereaux slapped his legs and stood up.

“I got to give you de nickel tour of my place,” Daugereaux said expansively. “You got to know what y’all defending.”

Fleer nodded, and the Riotfish followed Daugereaux out the door.

The cabin itself was quick enough to show, just an open room that constituted the kitchen/dining room/living room, and a couple small rooms tacked onto the back for a bedroom and storage. Daugereaux took them outside and rambled around the yard. Every feature of the land had a story behind it, and Daugereaux was only too happy to tell each and every one.

Riotfish, Inc.: In Debt

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

Ma Daugereaux was up preparing coffee and breakfast before any of the Riotfish woke, so they were gently brought to consciousness by the homey rattle of kitchenware and crockery.

D’khara blearily opened his eyes. The temperature hadn’t dropped much overnight. He’d managed to avoid putting any of the blankets on top of himself by building a kind of dam with them around his body. The heat had been relentless. He was more accustomed to the cool dampness of the mine, or the dry coolness of the Riotfish HQ. This angry, sticky air was a new phenomenon to him. He felt as though he’d not really been able to fall fully asleep all night.

Riotfish, Inc.: In Debt

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

D’khara blundered through the underbrush, yanking at the thorns that snagged his shirtsleeve and stomping the brush flat.

“Wow,” Roger said with genuine awe. “You are loud.”

“You’re loud,” D’khara growled. It was a bald-faced lie; Roger slipped smoothly from cover to cover while barely disturbing a single leaf or blade of grass. The woods seemed to avoid him. D’khara, on the other hand, was no friend of the forest. Branches and thorns and leaves with velcro surfaces reached out to grab him as he passed.

Riotfish, Inc.: In Debt

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

Oliver was standing in the camp later, going over their findings with Fleer. D’khara and Roger had already debriefed, and were hanging out nearby. Oliver worked on a datapad that was hooked to the hardline spliced from Daugereaux'.

“That’s perfect,” Fleer said, looking at the spot Oliver had marked out on the datapad’s map. “Deep enough in that Cryocorp can’t ‘forget’ about the border and come in after, far enough back from the highway that they can’t try to break through. In a curve, so the rear won’t be able to support the lead and vice versa. Perfect. Great job, you two.”

Riotfish, Inc.: In Debt

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

Fleer stood before the group, sweating in his fatigues. He knew he looked odd, out of a suit, and he felt odd and out of place. The swamp did not welcome him.

He stood on Daugereaux’ porch with all the Riotfish except for Roger spread out before him. Old man Daugereaux himself was in a rocking chair off to one side, with his eyes closed and his ball cap pulled down, apparently sleeping.

Riotfish, Inc.: In Debt

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

Oliver was wrong. It was nearly another hour before they heard rustling in the brush. They both brought their weapons to bear on the noise.

“Who goes there?” D’khara called.

“Caw, caw,” came the response.

D’khara lowered his gun.

“Did you just say ‘caw, caw’?” he shouted hoarsely.

“Yes?” came Little Timmy’s reply.

“That’s supposed to be a crow call. You’re not just supposed to say ‘caw’!”

“How do I know what crows sound like?” retorted Little Timmy. “I’ve only ever seen pictures!”

Riotfish, Inc.: In Debt

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

The cargo doors led into a loading area several stories tall and wide open. The ceiling vanished in the distance overhead. The concrete-and-brutalist theme from the exterior carried into the interior. Worn yellow tape marked out zones on the floor. Pallets, disassembled parts of shelving and other equipment were lined tidily against the walls. Bare steel walkways lined the walls on either side, thirty feet up from the floor. A pair of swinging doors adorned the far wall, leading further into the facility.

Riotfish, Inc.: In Debt

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

Roger was not back at base camp when they arrived. Fleer set everyone to striking camp while he sat in his camp chair, spinning through the contract information on his datapad. He wasn’t really seeing. He knew he needed to get over to Daugereaux to let him know the contract was done, but he was wrung out. He was utterly drained.

“Oooh, nippy-snippy sads, like a gelding.”

Fleer lifted his head to see Roger sauntering back into camp.

Riotfish, Inc.: In Debt

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

Daugereaux spoke, his voice distant and coarse with old pain.

“It was about ‘86 or so, when I got dis land. It was old family land, and my daddy was a only son and I was a only son, so everybody knowed where de land was gon’ end up. When mon pere died, it reverted to my parrain, my grandfather, and he give it straight back down to me.”

“I did not respect de gift like I should have. I thought dat I deserved better, some of de better land up de bayou, but dat was land belong to my gran’mere an’ dem’s side, and dat side of de family never did much care for my parrain. He was a hard man, and he did not shy away from tellin’ a fool when he was doin’ a fool thing.”

Riotfish, Inc.: In Debt

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

“I’ve looked through their staffing list, and I count forty-two men. Looking at the reviews and testimonials, it looks like they’re accustomed to working as a pack; they all show up for every job. That means that the five of us–”

“Six,” Daugereaux reminded him.

“Six of us, yes, thank you, are facing forty-two–”

“Thirty-eight!” Roger chirped.

“Thirty-eight, right, thirty-eight black ops.”

“So how do we do this, boss-man? That’s a lot of dudes to kill.”

Riotfish, Inc.: In Debt

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

It was the next morning. The six warriors were at the Riotfish camp, preparing to move out. They’d paired off: Fleer and Daugereaux to start, Oliver and D’khara, and after some concerned consideration on Fleer’s part, Roger and Little Timmy.

The weather was already warm, and a thick fog had settled over the swamp, diffusing the light and lending an eerie feel to the proceedings. A rich, organic odor filled the stagnant air.

Riotfish, Inc.: In Debt

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

Chung and Nestor looked at the little cabin nestled in the crook of the water. Evening had fallen, and the last rays of sunlight were too weak to do more than outline the bulk of the house. Fitful lamplight flickered warmly from the windows. They’d circled the cabin as best they could without slogging through the water, and everything inside looked still and silent.

Nodding and signaling to each other, they separated and crept up either side of the long stairs leading up to the porch. Walking on the edges of the old wooden stairs to minimize squeaking, Nestor made his way up to the porch. Chung followed once Nestor had set himself, and eased forward. With excruciating slowness, he gently pulled the screen door open. Its rusty spring squealed loudly, and Chung froze, but nothing stirred inside. He motioned to Nestor who darted forward on silent feet, and teased the front door open.

Riotfish, Inc.: In Debt

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

The Riotfish were gathered in the early morning darkness of the camp, quietly comparing notes.

“Oliver and I got two,” D’khara said, pausing to cough. “That’s all we could find.” He tried to shake the persistent dizziness out of his head, and shivered.

“Poke!” Roger said. “Poke! Poke! Poke! I poked many!”

“Excellent. Do you have a specific count for me, Roger?”

Roger stared at his hands, trying to work his fingers into some semblance of a count.

Riotfish, Inc.: In Debt

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

D’khara lay in his cot in the tent at camp. Two hours earlier, Dr. Navarre had dragged him in and run his vitals.

“Well,” Dr. Navarre had said, “your blood pressure is 180/110, your heart rate is 120, and your temperature is 115 degrees. If you were a human, I’d render an official diagnosis of ‘probably dead’.” He’d looked down at D’khara. “Unfortunately, I don’t know much about dwarf physiology. I can make some guesses though.” He walked over to the camp table in the tent. “I’ll leave you some antibiotics. Take one every six hours. Other than that, just try to get some rest.”

Riotfish, Inc.: In Debt

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

Roger skipped through the woods, swinging his heavy combat knife back and forth gleefully. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had this much fun. Then again, he couldn’t remember what he’d had for breakfast, his age, or his gender most days without checking his identitag.

He burst into a clearing, surprising two of the black ops. They had been spending the morning working each other up over their travails in the swamp.

Riotfish, Inc.: In Debt

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

Evelyn May was the operations officer at the headquarters of Tapstrike, Ltd. She was a stark, severe woman, prim and focused.

She watched the clock on her monitor counting upward. At three o’clock precisely, the communications blackout would be lifted, according to plan.

Ever since she had taken over operations at Tapstrike, not a single operation had begun late. No part of any plan had not been fulfilled. Not a single bullet point had been left unaddressed. She ruled with an elegant iron fist. Order and predictability were her familiars, marching in lockstep with her will.

Riotfish, Inc.: In Debt

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

D’khara’s eyes opened, and his internal systems ran their startup sequence. He breathed in deeply, and for a wonder, didn’t cough it back out. His chest still felt tight, but his lungs were not actively campaigning against the rest of his body any more.

He sat up a little too quickly in his cot, making his head swim. He steadied himself, but realized that he didn’t feel terrible. As terrible. He wasn’t going to be running any marathons, but the cool blessing of not being filled with screaming pain washed him over with unspeakable contentment.

Riotfish, Inc.: In Debt

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

Fleer’s consciousness spiraled back in a little, but it was a loose, delicate thing. He felt he would slip away with the slightest exertion.

“I can get these guys,” he tried to say, but it came out “c’n get thzzzguys,” fuzzy and weak, as though his lips and tongue were only reluctantly taking orders. “I juzz needaminnit.”

“What’s dat you say?” Daugereaux’ face hovered into his vision.

“I’ll gettem… carry the team again…”

Riotfish, Inc.: In Debt

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

Thirty minutes later, Robby blazed into the clearing like his tires were on fire and his tailpipe was catching. He sprayed to a stop in the midst of a patch of gravel, showering everyone liberally with the small stones.

“Old man Dau– uh, I mean, Mr. Daugereaux, I’m here!” he yelled, hanging out the driver’s side window.

“May, it took you ‘bout long enough,” Daugereaux said.

“Um, I’m real sorry, sir. I got here as fast as I could.”

Riotfish, Inc.: In Debt

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

“Chopper!” Oliver reminded them. “Shooting rockets now!”

D’khara sat up in the bed of the truck.

“Oliver, please tell me you grabbed your Zentech cannon today?”

“Well, you said we weren’t going to be running into any tanks out here!”

“I’m sorry, okay? I was wrong, so very very wrong, and I please just want to know that you have that!”

Spits of asphalt shot up in a stream of splats along the road ahead of them as the chopper opened up with its rotary autocannon. They made a jagged, crazy line of fire that crossed the road, climbed the truck, and left a row of neat holes across the hood. It took a moment for the angry bzzzz sound of its firing to catch up to the bullets.

Riotfish, Inc.: In Debt

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

D’khara’s breath was heaving. A trickle of blood tickled his neck, leaking from his ear, which had been clipped by a near miss. He heard his pursuer come out of the cane behind him and raise his rifle.

They stared impassively at him, their black sunglasses hiding all expression as their rifles were trained steadily on his chest.

D’khara closed his eyes and braced himself. They weren’t here to take prisoners.

Riotfish, Inc.: In Debt

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

D’khara was sitting in the lounge at Riotfish HQ. It had been a week since the Daugereaux job had ended, and life was approaching something that felt normal; as normal as life got around Riotfish HQ.

And now it had been 90 days.

More, actually: it had been 93 days. D’khara, quietly seething with anxiety, had tried not to be too obvious over the last few days about hanging around close to Fleer, and had even made comments about how open his schedule was. He didn’t want to be too overt. His ninetieth day had been a Friday, so maybe Fleer had been too busy to get to it. But now it was Monday, so D’khara had been trying to find something useful to do near Fleer, but Fleer just spent his time mooning around, sighing, and staring at random parts of the HQ.

Riotfish, Inc.: In Debt

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

With nothing better to do, Fleer flipped over to the Guild’s open jobs board.

One last spin through the vast fields of nothingness and no opportunity. One last nod to a world of contracts he could never land.

The list of jobs sprang up. He clicked through all the familiar filters, the long list narrowing sharply each time he clicked.

He ended up looking at fifty or so jobs, many with handsome sums attached.

Riotfish, Inc.: In Debt

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

Pearce pushed his slim glasses up his slim nose with one slim finger, and looked down at his datapad. He raised his eyes and looked at the flaking sign marking Riotfish, Inc.’s headquarters.

The sign hung crooked, the cheap paint bubbling and peeling from the cheaper steel. Clashing colors of red and gray graced the sign where there was any color left. The reek of hopelessness and apathy mixed with the sharp industrial stench of volatile organic compounds wafting in from the surrounding area.

Riotfish, Inc.: In Debt

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

<table style="border-collapse: collapse; width: 100%; overflow: hidden; background-color: #2b0303" border="1"><tbody><tr><td><div class="row"><div class="col-md-2"><div style="text-align: center; margin: 10px 5px;"><a href="https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/95069/riotfish-inc-in-debt" rel=" ugc nofollow"><img src="https://www.royalroadcdn.com/public/covers-large/95069-riotfish-inc-in-debt.jpg?time=1737266760" /></a></div><p style="text-align:center;"><a href="https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/95069/riotfish-inc-in-debt" rel=" ugc nofollow">Riotfish, Inc.: In Debt</a></p></div><div class="col-md-9"><div style="margin: 10px 5px; color:#ffffff"><p><span>Not</span><span> everybody would hire an orc as their military strategist, but David Fleer would. He’d also use a little old lady as his getaway </span><span>driver, </span><span>and a deranged</span><span> lizardman </span><span>who clings to reality like a nudist clings to a cactus</span><span>.</span></p><p><span>Maybe that’s why he’s on the verge of going out of business.</span></p><p><span>Fleer runs</span><span>–</span><span> or tries to run</span><span>–</span><span> Riotfish, Inc., a hard-luck mercenary outfit working cheap </span><span>contracts</span><span> for megacorporations who don’t want to get their hands dirty</span><span>. </span><span>He’d be better off fielding real soldiers</span><span>, but he’s grown to love his misfits. Plus, they’re all he can afford.</span></p><p><span>Now the Riotfish are facing a critical cash shortage. They’re under the gun in more ways than one, and after a misunderstanding leads them to assault their auditor, all their loans are called due. Fleer and his crew have six weeks to come up with half a million credits, or they’ll be terminally </span><span>out of business</span><span>. </span><span>And nobody will </span><span>hire </span><span>the survivors.</span></p><p><span>To make that kind of money, the Riotfish are going to have to get in way over their heads: navigating dark corporate conspiracies, </span><span>blackmailing execs, and</span><span> </span><span>dodging vengeful black ops squads while working out how to steal a vast cache of forgotten corporate assets</span><span>. Keeping the Riofish in business won’t mean much if they all end up dead, though. And Fleer is going to find out just how far he can push them.</span></p></div></div></div></td></tr></tbody></table>

The Admiral & the Assistant

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

Admiral Stonefist has served the Emperor faithfully for 30 years, keeping the galaxy safe and expanding the Imperium’s borders. A grizzled veteran with a lifetime of war behind him, he is dour, cynical, and angry– long disillusioned with the ideals of the Imperium.

His new assistant, Kinnit the Kobold, is overjoyed to be the first from her planet to be assigned to the coveted Ninth Fleet. She arrives filled with hope and energy, eager to rise through the ranks of the Imperial Navy and earn all Kobolds the right to become full members of the Imperium.

The Admiral & the Assistant

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

A brutal conspiracy is reshaping the Imperium–and the legendary Admiral and his outlaw Kobold Assistant are its only hope.

The Admiral & the Assistant

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

An organic alien ship that eats worlds has the Imperium teetering on a razor’s edge–Admiral Stonefist and his Assistant Kinnit must stop the threat and uncover its dark origin before the Ninth Fleet is destroyed.

The Admiral and the Assistant

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

<table style="border-collapse: collapse; width: 100%; overflow: hidden; background-color: #06213c" border="1"><tbody><tr><td><div class="row"><div class="col-md-2"><div style="text-align: center; margin: 10px 5px;"><a href="https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/97331/the-admiral-and-the-assistant" rel=" ugc nofollow"><img src="https://www.royalroadcdn.com/public/covers-large/97331-the-admiral-and-the-assistant.jpg?time=1732337332" /></a></div><p style="text-align:center;"><a href="https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/97331/the-admiral-and-the-assistant" rel=" ugc nofollow">The Admiral and the Assistant</a></p></div><div class="col-md-9"><div style="margin: 10px 5px; color:#ffffff"><p><span>Admiral Stonefist has served the Emperor faithfully for 30 years, keeping the galaxy safe and expanding the Imperium's borders. A grizzled veteran with a lifetime of war behind him, he is dour, cynical, and angry-- long disillusioned with the ideals of the Imperium.</span></p><p><span>His new assistant, Kinnit the Kobold,</span><span> </span><span>is overjoyed to be the first from her planet to be assigned to the coveted Ninth Fleet. She arrives filled with hope and energy, eager to rise through the ranks of the Imperial Navy and earn all Kobolds the right to become full members of the Imperium.</span></p><p><span>Admiral Stonefist hates that his new assistant is not human and is alarmed as his slowly growing respect for her begins to develop into something else. He is determined to drive her out of the Navy for her own good</span><span>. However, with her help he discovers an insidious conspiracy which </span><span>threatens</span><span> the safety of the entire Imperium.</span></p><p><span>Can the Admiral and the Assistant cooperate long enough to disrupt the vile machinations of the Imperium's reluctant allies and stop the Insectoid menace?</span><span> </span><span>And can the Admiral grapple with his newfound feelings, which fly in the face of society and the law?</span></p><p><span>(Space Opera with romance elements)</span></p></div></div></div></td></tr></tbody></table>