Stiletto hung upside down on her usual perch: the rafters above the clubhouse's meeting room. She gave her undivided attention to the ARO displaying the latest novel she acquired, Atop the Chrome Stallion. That is, until a loud ping distracted her. Stiletto clicked her tongue and brought the notification into focus. A new post on Bansheenet's jobs board.
[https://i.imgur.com/S1Tps0a.png]
“Heeeeeeey, girls. It's your Goddess of repair, Diva of despair. Goddess of speed and—I'll cut the crap. I'm being told that lazing around the shop ain't exactly earning my keep. So, in the interest of earnin' my keep, I'm doing one of the three things I'm good at, keeping my ear to the ground in the matrix and seeing if people out there need help.
Cause we're all here to help the people, am I right?
Any-fraggin'-way, down to business. We've got a guy in the Night Market looking for help. Eddie Carmichael. What I can dig up on him is that he's former CorpSec for Krieger Armaments, real heavy hitter. He got his ass diced up by an operator team pullin' the old action vid special, retired early, and moved out here. What he wants ain't even related to any of that, but he's sayin' they're havin' troubles with the sewer lines. Somethin' along the lines of mutant rats? Yeah, I don't fraggin' know.
Anyways, I've been talkin' for way too long. Any of you girls wanna get your waders on and dive into a river of literal shit? It'll probably be easy enough for two of you to take on. Oni out.”
Attached to the posting was a file with unnecessary directions to the Night Market, with a rendezvous spot just off of the main market area and a location pin to Eddie's place. She composed a quick reply.
[https://i.imgur.com/jsFmpiL.png]
She returned her attention to her novel, until another ping came in.
[https://i.imgur.com/T16PRgC.png]
[https://i.imgur.com/Nw377hM.png]
She unlatched herself from the rafters and gracefully twisted mid-air to land on her feet, followed by leaping down the stairs and rushing outside to her parked Cyclone. Scant moments later, her long hair whipped against the wind as she sped towards the rendezvous spot.
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Mary’s Nodachi growled down the worn-down streets of the Slag, thumping and thudding with each pothole that it dipped into. She slowed for a few seconds, making a face underneath her riding helmet as something figuratively hit her square between the eyes.
[https://i.imgur.com/wunSJE7.png]
She was already half-way between the market and Hotrod's place when Stiletto posted her reply, so her travel time was relatively short compared to what it could've been. She slowly came to a halt at the exact coordinates of the rendezvous, clambering off her bike and planting her ass against it as she waited for Stiletto. Or for Stiletto to respond.
[https://i.imgur.com/gJY0bz2.png]
Of course, Stiletto could have just responded in person, considering her Hozumi Cyclone was slowly rolling to a stop next to Mary's. She held a large Primo Purchase Sploshee cup in one hand, taking a loud sip from the straw as she killed her engine. “Alright! We're both here.”
“I don’t follow,” she responded blankly, matching her facial expression in tone almost perfectly, still leaning with her cyber-ass flush to her stock Amaya Nodachi.
“I thought that by now you and Rods would be, you know, close.” Stiletto's free hand gestured in a jazz hands-like motion to emphasize that last word.
“—What? Oh, like we're—” she stumbled over her words, looking for the correct ones to say without making it sound as if she had something to hide. “—No?”
Good work.
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The Night Market was as it always is. Flooded to the brim with every night owl shopper from all corners of the Big Slag, looking for all sorts of deals; legal, illegal, and anywhere in between. Neon lights fought each other for dominance of the area, as much as the street merchants behind their carts and under their tarps slung underhanded insults at their competitors stationed only a few meters away. Some people might call it claustrophobic or way too crowded, but for most of the people here, a visit to the Night Market allowed them a brief respite from the Slag's oppressive gloom. Of course, going to the other districts would have the same effect, but a Slag resident straying into the so-called civil parts of Novonachalsk faced the risk of getting a stun baton shoved wrong-end up their ass.
Stiletto took another loud slurp from her red-colored Sploshee, eyes twinkling at the Night Market's hustle and bustle before turning her neck in Mary's direction; the motion making her look like a bat that's cosplaying as an owl.
Mary stared back, her orange cybereyes glowing subtly after Stiletto's sudden display of double-jointedness. “Anyways, did you bring waders or anything? You've been down to sewers and stuff, right?”
“No, I didn't bring waders. We can just buy it from the market. Not like we're going to bring it home and wash it.” Cue another loud slurp as she looked around and at the various Night Market stalls once more.
“You didn't come prepared? Why didn't you—what's the likelihood that someone is actually selling waders here?”
“The likelihood is very high. You've been here before, right? Almost everything is for sale. If someone can just up and buy rocket launchers, I refuse to believe I'd have a harder time buying waders.” She tried to take another slurp, but the near empty cup prevented her from doing so, eliciting a disappointed groan. “Did you bring waders?”
“No, but—” Mary pointed down at her thunder-thighed cyberlegs. “I can just hose myself down. It's not like—Okay. Fine. I forgot to bring waders. I didn't come prepared.” She pinched the bridge of her nose, glancing around the stalls for anyone who would inexplicably be selling a pair of waders. “—A rocket launcher is totally going to be useful out here. What are people gonna do with waders?”
Stiletto brought attention to her broadcasted ID.
“Going into sewers to exterminate critters? It's not glamorous work, but, well… we're technically doing it, aren't we?” She tossed her now-empty Sploshee cup into a nearby trash can and walked towards the Night Market proper.
Mary followed afterwards, trailing close behind. It seemed that she isn't very much of the leading type.
“—I've totally been in sewers before. Just… not to shoot at mutant rats,” she mumbled, eyes still darting around the market; either searching for incoming trouble or an elusive fishmonger willing to part with their waders. Her eyes flicked back to Stiletto, addressing the ID a moment too late. “Wait. Do you actually do that, or is that, like, just one of those obviously fake covers?”
Stiletto's eyes also darted to and fro, but more at the stalls and carts than potential incoming trouble.
“Do I actually do what? Exterminate?” She turned around to wink at Mary. “Of course! Girl's gotta eat, you know?”
“—Ohh. Oh. Uh. Okay.” She indicated to her broadcasted ID as well, still busy looking in every direction except Stiletto’s.
“—Yeah, uh, I'm good with air ducts and stuff. And other tight spaces. Any luck yet?”
“Yeah, Alice.” She pointed at a fishmonger hawking his wares, holding a large fish in one hand that was definitely a mutated marlin. “I see our waders right there.”
“SORRY, I DIDN’T SEE YOU THERE,” the fishmonger yelled at an ear shattering volume. The kind of guy who would wake you up at two in the morning to sell you something. He even wore a light blue button-up shirt. “YOU EVER FIND YOURSELF FOR A LACK OF MARLIN? CHECK THIS OUT!”
He shoved the marlin in Stiletto's general direction, despite the fact that they weren't even within arm's reach of each other.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
“Hey, boss!” Stiletto gave him a cheerful grin as she approached, which emphasized the bat-like features of her face. “How much for the marlin?”
She stopped right in front of his stall, glancing at all the fishes sitting on crushed ice with mouths agape.
“BUY IT RIGHT NOW, AND I’LL THROW IN THIS FISHCO BRAND STAIN REMOVER!” he continued to shout. “WATCH THIS, I CAN—”
“Aw come on, boss. Maybe a discount instead? Oh, right. You got any more of those waders? Maybe even two?” Stiletto split her attention between talking with the fishmonger and watching their surroundings.
“IF YOU CALL THIS NUMBER RIGHT NOW—” He stopped to project an ARO with an extremely outdated connection, flashing it right in front of Stiletto. That kind of protocol for Neuro connections hasn’t been used for a decade, at minimum. “—I’LL GIVE YOU TWO WADERS FOR THE COST OF ONE. TWO HUNDRED CREDS! WHAT SAVINGS!”
“Two hundred? Okay okay, how about one fifty for the two waders? Hold the marlin.” She continued her haggling and pinged Mary via NeuroLine for discretion's sake.
[https://i.imgur.com/hzTridQ.png]
“HOW ABOUT A LIMITED TIME OFFER?” He rubbed his strangely kempt beard. “ONE SEVENTY FIVE AND I’LL PUT IN A FREE FISH SCALER, JUST FOR YOU!”
[https://i.imgur.com/f2JaWoS.png]
“Okay okay okay, you drive a hard bargain, boss. I'll take it.” She pulled out her commlink and a plain credchit, plugging it in to transfer exactly 175 credits onto it before handing it to the fishmonger.
The fishmonger went around behind his cart, pulling out exactly two waders, which were thankfully one-size-fits-all.
[https://i.imgur.com/V1h6YG0.png]
“YOU WON’T REGRET THIS PURCHASE!” he continued to shout loud enough to drown out the rest of the commotion throughout the Night Market. Guy must’ve been a loudspeaker in a previous life.
“Thank you! I'll be sure to come back!” She accepted the waders, and pivoted on her heel to face Mary.
“Okay. Uh. I guess we should go and find the guy, huh? I can probably lead when you're ready. Unless you've got other stuff you need to buy around here”, Mary responded after a long pause to rub her nose, clearly contemplating existence after this.
“Yeah, let's! Lead the way!”
The infomercial guy kept up his act as the duo took off into the figurative sunset. The figurative sunset being an absolute maze of side streets and back alleys. The amount of turns that Mary took would usually indicate that she was lost anywhere else, but city planning wasn't really taken into account when it came to making the place navigable nor avoiding making it claustrophobic. At least the cool fall rain combined with the neon lights that seemed ever present no matter where they turned made the brief journey atmospheric.
Eventually they stopped in front of a rustbucket of a storage shed, constructed almost completely out of corrugated steel; seemingly built over the skeleton of an old Mutual TeleNetwork maintenance building.
“Do you want to do the talking? I'm… bad at it, to be honest.” She turned to face Stiletto, dodging out of the task of knocking on the door.
“Wh—Okay. I'm not much of a talker myself, but! I'll take the reins this time.” Stiletto stepped up to the door, heavy boots thudding with each step. She raised a hand to knock at the door and—
—just let it hover there, craning her neck to face Mary once more. “What was the guy's name again?”
“—Wait. How do you not—” Mary dropped her shoulders and sighed. The claustrophobic alleyway was making it incredibly difficult for her to not do her best reproduction of ‘how to talk to shorter people,’ awkwardly inclining her head to try and be polite when addressing her battle buddy. “Eddie… Carmichael? I think—does it really matter? He'll probably introduce himself anyways.”
“That's true. Eddie. Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.” She repeated the name as if to reinforce it in her head and rapped her knuckles against the door, hard. “Eddie, open up! WE'RE HERE TO SIT ON YOUR FACE.”
Mary opened her mouth to say something, but instead just her jaw hung agape.
“What the fuck,” a muffled voice can be heard from inside. “DIDN'T HIRE NO JOYGIRLS, PISS OFF!”
“Sorry, wrong code. WE'RE HERE TO LAY PIPE,” Stiletto shouted again.
Mary promptly laid her mitt on top of Stiletto's head, gently prying her away from the door by pulling back on her. Of course, the effort was half-hearted. “She means mutant rat removal!” she called out. Softly, of course. Which made it hard as hell to hear her.
Unfortunately, the response the duo received was the heavy door swinging open and the angry end of an AS-7 being pointed straight in their faces. Behind it stood a grizzled ork wearing a white wife beater and urban camouflage cargo pants. His black hair was graying at its roots, and he’s got giant fuck-off cyberarms that looked like they were a few decades outdated.
“As in sewer pipe?” Stiletto helpfully offered up, unfazed by the shotgun barrel in her face, ears twitching.
“—I ain't in the business of shootin' hookers, but I'm havin' a pretty rough day. You mind?” he growled in a voice that you could only get by gargling desert sand with a side of broken glass.
“Also we're not hookers.”
Eddie racked the pump on the shottie, lowering the stock from his shoulder. He still maintained his aim on the duo with a hip-fire stance, though. “Joygirls, hookers. Whatever—” He stopped his growling drawl for a brief second, his brow flattening. “—You're pullin' my goddamn leg. Ain't no way you're the ones respondin' to that job postin'.”
Stiletto's ears twitched again, this time in a slightly more agitated manner. She pulled up an ARO that displayed her (fake) ID's credentials. “I'm a licensed exterminator, and my partner here knows vents like the back of her own hand.”
Eddie—surprisingly—picked up on the mild agitation, finally lowering his rifle and letting his finger rest on the trigger guard. He gestured the two inside with his free arm, grunting in response. “Hey, don't get pissy with me when you ain't declarin' what you're actually here for.”
Even prior to entering, the duo could easily see the interior of the shed. It was exactly what you would expect of someone living in the husk of a maintenance building. A cot, a few lawn chairs, a card table, a fridge that looked like it was out of the early 2000's, and a makeshift stove of a shitload of hotplates wired together. The decor swung between almost hippie-like with beads and curtains draped from the walls, and completely trashy. The walls that didn’t have ornate beads and curtains were literally plastered with pin-ups of naked ork chicks and print copies of action vid posters. None of which were tasteful by any stretch.
“I just figured I shouldn't be shouting about the job while outside, you know?” Stiletto stepped in, conspicuously turning her head in this and that direction to take in the room's decoration. Her eyebrows raised as a look that can best be described as concern crossed her face. She didn't see a Fatal Glory poster. This guy probably wouldn't know a good action vid when he sees one.
Eddie finally let go of the shotgun, holding it via the sling, and turned his back as he walked back into his abode.
“Most people would open with, ‘We're here about the mutant rat problem,’ but what do I know?” he laughed, sounding only a slight less miffed than he was moments ago and plopping his ass down onto one of the lawn chairs.
Stiletto tapped her index finger against a prominent cheekbone, opposite cheek puffed as she seemed to think of an appropriate response. “—this is true,” she relented. “So! What's the problem, exactly?”
Mary eventually found her way into the building, still remaining quiet; albeit, managing to avoid getting distracted by the decor.
“Short of it, I got rats chewin' up the power lines in the sewers. It's been causing intermittent blackouts on this side of the market. I can't get down there to fix anything cause of the damn rats, either. Just need somebody to get down there, clear out what they can find, and block off wherever the hell they're comin' in from.” Eddie patted at his right leg. “I'd handle it myself but my cyber-leg has been screwed for a couple of years now. I ain't really plannin' on gettin' eaten by a swarm of overgrown rodents after gettin' this far in life.”
Stiletto nodded along to the information and decided that now was a good time to plop her ass down on one of the lawn chairs as well. “So it's pretty much a whole gaggle of the damn things. Right, sounds simple enough! How much are you compensating our time for?”
“Welllll. That's kinda the thing.” He brought up a massive mitt to rub the back of his head, before returning to his gravelly drawl. “I ain't exactly paid much to do this shit, you know? Maybe about four hundred creds a fortnight.”
The orc exhaled, reclining back in his lawn chair. “Five hundred good? Everyone else's turned down that offer so far.”
Stiletto puffed a cheek out once more and deflated it with her finger, staring at a particularly saucy ork pin-up as she attempted some mental arithmetic. She pinged Mary via NeuroLine once more.
[https://i.imgur.com/DIz6ful.png]
Mary's eyes darted from Eddie to Stiletto, contemplating for a moment.
[https://i.imgur.com/2qud36l.png]
Eddie sighed and leaned forwards, seemingly misreading the situation a little. “—Five fifty's the best I can do.”
[https://i.imgur.com/zcbPDml.png]
She still stared at the pin-up, not jumping on Eddie's offer.
[https://i.imgur.com/5tlAOc9.png]
Eddie grumbled, picking at one of his tusks for a moment, before finally speaking up.
“No bites? Okay. Okay. You know, you two look like you ain't fuckin' around, considerin' leggie over there.” He pointed at Mary, before his index finger swung back to Stiletto. “And you probably got a few hundred thou worth of augs in you. How's about this, you do the job, and I can give you the details to a Krieger safehouse that they use for supplying remote CorpSec teams up here in the Slag.”
[https://i.imgur.com/LcAlwpC.png]
Stiletto craned her neck to look at Eddie, the disconcerting movement emphasized by the Cheshire grin she's sporting. “Now that sounds fair. Alright, we'll take care of your rat problem, we get those details, and you get to keep your creds. Everyone wins!”
She threw both arms up in the air and held them there, as if that was the gesture for being a winner.
Eddie exhaled a sigh of relief, slumping back into his lawn chair. “Well. Glad that was appealin' enough,” he mumbled, quirking a single brow at Stiletto's victory pose. “And I'm glad that you're the first group to come in to take up my offer that isn't tryin' to go mutant rat huntin' with a .22.”
Stiletto brought her hands down, clasping them together with a LOUD clap. “The smart exterminator does not underestimate those rats. Before we get started, you got anywhere us girls can change?”