Eutropia was a minor celebrity, a performer in one of the city's lesser-known, yet still reputable establishments. Despite the marginally sleazy name "Hot Legs", everything else about the venue gave the impression of an upstanding establishment. Eutropia, alongside the establishment's in-house band, wore costumes styled after the Mamon Armors worn by an all-female group of independent contractors from the Samstani capital.
Eutropia's stage getup was far from a real Mamon Armor, of course - it was an all-too-tight black body glove with sections of blue-painted armor fitted around it, with a chestplate that only covered the top half of her torso and was shaped to exaggerate her curves. The rest of the suit was much the same, with "metal bikini" type bottoms and chunky, high-heeled knee-high boots, with gauntlets that matched their rounded shape. Sizable pauldrons that swung about freely during the performance rounded out the whole thing. As for the performance, it was fun. It brought back memories of attending underground concerts, both for fun and to discuss things that were best covered up by the eardrum-rupturing noise. Krahe also learned that this world had equivalents to some modern instruments, including distorted guitars and synthesizers. Unsurprisingly, all powered by souldregs.
Musically, the songs were familiar, being similar to the New Wave of Synth-Rock which had swept through Megacity Gamma's Sectors 7, 8 and 9 in her lifetime. As for lyrical subjects, they were typical stuff. Love, sorrow, living in the big city, tearing down the road as fast as your machine would go, et cetera et cetera. Timeless subjects, really. A song including the words "tonight, there's a hurricane" in the refrain stood out among the others, being the opener and also being repeated once more after the audience demanded an encore.
The question was whether Eutropia moonlighted as a Silversword Agency Contractor, or the other way around; the bar's advertising used her contractor status as a selling point.
Tracking her back to her home wasn't difficult. In fact, Krahe wasn't the only one to do it that night. A pair of drunk fans, out of an audience of about a hundred, had followed their idol back to an building in one of the city's more affluent residential areas. Given her reaction - shooing them off and throwing spare pieces of her costume - this seemed to be a regular occurence. Like feral raccoons who had been given leftovers, the two obsessives scurried off with their prize.
Krahe was well out of sight, but with Barzai as her eyes, she got a good look at the building and at Eutropia herself.
----------------------------------------
Eutropia regarded Krahe with a questioning look. The question was: "Another fan?"
But as she approached, emerging into the pallid glow of a street lamp, curiosity turned to recognition, and recognition turned to wide-eyed terror.
If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.
"Blackhand..." the girl muttered. She didn't seem to even consider fleeing, merely backing up against the front door of her home.
"W-why're you here? I... I'm not with Hashem anymore, I swear! I paid off my debt, I'm clean!"
"Oh, I've missed these reactions. Best thank Semzar for doing my PR," she thought.
Somewhat confused, Krahe asked: "Why do you think I'm here?"
"They say you used to run with the Hands of Purgation," Eutropia said. She hastily shoved her keys into the door without ever turning around, unlocked it, and opened it, slowly backing up into her home. The whole time, she kept talking: "That you've come back to take vengeance on the whole Hashem Family. But I- I swear, I'm not with them. I just... I just owed them and I did some work to repay it."
She... Wasn't lying. At least, not as far as Krahe could tell. Her confusion grew, but she decided to play along. Krahe followed her in; this wasn't a conversation to be had out in the open street if it could be helped, and Eutropia clearly understood that.
Krahe shut the door behind herself, leaning against it, leaving Barzai just outside to cover her blind spot - especially the rooftops.
"Did that work happen to include the killing of a saurian street vendor? The one that blasted you with a reaper and set off Mistress Yao's protection talisman."
"How do you-"
"Answer the question."
Krahe didn't need to try to put an edge in her voice. Just interrupting Eutropia was enough to make her crumple. Well, she supposed it wasn't too big a surprise. She was a hired killer, sure, but she had killed a civilian. Frankly, Krahe wasn't sure why Yao had taken an interest in her, or sold her that protective talisman.
"That..." Eutropia tensed up. "It was the last thing I did for him, I swear on my family name!"
"I don't recall finding anything about a family name when I looked into you," Krahe said plainly. Eutropia's terror became tinged by shame.
"I, well, I'm... I'm the eighth daughter of the Kartier Family's Ulthar branch," she admitted with a sad smile, averting her gaze. She didn't feel the need to elaborate, because there was none. The Kartiers were an ancient and absurdly wealthy family, with the core branch controlling all the businesses while the secondary branches specialized in a wide variety of research and development. It was such surface information that even a book on the general history of Afshan included it. They were, in every sense, old money.
Raising her eyes to look at Krahe again, she added: "I would swear that my family will reward you if you spare my life, but I would be lying to both of us. So, if you spare me, my family will not be able to use my death as an excuse if your interests ever conflict with theirs."
"Point me to the one who hired you, and I'll let you get away."
"It was-"
"Shut up. I wasn't finished. I'll let you get. Away. Not let you go. You will vanish from Audunpoint and take only what you can carry. Make it look like someone made you disappear. Run off to Afshan or something, change your name, start another tribute band, Zavesh knows there's a hundred of them just in this city. Someone wants you dead for that street merchant. So, Eutropia Kartier is dead, starting today. Understand?"
Krahe had just guessed that part about tribute bands. She was sure Hot Legs would have no trouble finding another singer for their in-house band. Eutropia nodded along, both intimidated and relieved.