“NELL!”
Erica’s voice suddenly snapped in her ear. Nell yowled, flinching so hard that she rolled right off her couch and onto the ground.
“OW! Erica, what the fuck was that for?” Nell hissed, rubbing the shoulder she fell on.
“Well, sleeping beauty didn’t wanna wake up, so I had to resort to intensive measures.”
Nell groaned, rolling her eyes. She began to pull herself back onto the couch. Suddenly, her head thrummed with a bullet of pain.
“God, I feel like someone’s taking a drill to my damn brain. . . How long were we out last night?”
“Well, long enough for us to be two hours late–” Erica began, but Nell didn’t give her the chance to finish. She immediately rushed to her feet.
“Two hours? We can’t be late, let’s go!” She snatched Erica by the wrist and rushed the door. Erica raucously laughed.
“Damn! I should’ve just said that, and we’d already be out on a job!”
“Now isn’t the time for jokes, c’mon!”
----------------------------------------
“Well, well, well, our brand new duo decided to show up,” Arkie commented with a toothy grin. Erica and Nell tumbled into The Basement in a blur of morning sickness, exhaustion, and sheer anticipation. Remnants of last night still clung to the circles around their eyes and the loose clothes hanging off their limbs.
“Sorry we’re late,” Nell profusely apologized. The words tumbled out of her mouth in a flurry. “We wanted to come on time, but–”
“Nell was out for the count.”
“Erica!”
Arkie gave a bark of a laugh and dismissively waved his hand. “Is fine, is fine. We’ve all been there, yes? Just matters that you showed up! Based on what you look like, not many can say the same.” He motioned to the conglomerate of chairs laid before them. “But please, take a seat.”
A river of relief cooled her panic. Nell perched herself on the stool while Erica threw herself into the beanbag, idly rubbing her forehead. Arkie settled himself next to the large screen hanging in front of the seats and tugged out one of the thick wires draping off its frame. He joined the plug-end of the wire in a slot in his temple. When Nell first spoke with him, she barely noticed the port thanks to a seamless flap covering it. It almost appeared that he dug the plug into his skull rather than in a specialized port.
The screen and his eyes lit up blue in unison. Once a short loading screen ended, they would be greeted with a texting correspondence between Arkie and one of his contacts.
“One of my old friends here, Rammie, has a pretty big job he needs help taken care of,” Arkie summarized. He lifted his hand to motion up through the air, which scrolled up through the texts on the screen in unison. “He say he needs to talk more about the details, but he’ll need the whole of us. I thought it would be a good chance for Nell to meet the crew, build cred, all that beginner stuff.”
He lectured on a bit more about what his contact texted him before unplugging from the screen. His eyes returned to eerie orange and the screen died into black.
“I’m gonna send both of yous and Sickle along to meet him and see what he wants. Sound good, yes?”
“Oh! uhhh,” Erica leaned forward. “Are you sure having Nell meet Sickle so early is a good idea?”
“Who’s Sickle?” Nell asked. She hid the waver creeping in her voice. If Erica has to ask if meeting him is a good idea, it already made the hair along Nell’s nape spike up. Even better, his name is Sickle. That’s a terrifying name! He had to have earned that name for a reason, and Nell would gladly go the rest of her life without knowing why.
Arkie scoffed. “Sickle is not that bad, you know. He is gentleman, you’ll love him,” he assured. “Besides, you’ll have to meet him eventually. Why not sooner, the better?”
“But who is Sickle?” Nell demanded.
“One of our guys,” Erica sighed. “Arkie’s right, he’s fine, just– How do I say this lightly . . ? He looks like the Grim Reaper.”
Nell gave a breathy laugh. “You’re joking, right?”
The two were silent, and both exchanged a knowing glance.
“You’ll be fine, don’t sweat it,” Erica quickly replied. She reached up to pat Nell on the shoulder. “Just relax.”
Her words meant nothing. If anything, Nell tensed up at Erica’s touch. Her words definitely did nothing to ease her and her thoughts already began to run amok. If worst comes to worst, she knew where the Blunderbuss was hiding in her jacket.
They soon heard the steel door to The Basement open and close. Nell’s gaze snapped to who entered. From Erica’s vague descriptor, she could easily tell it was Sickle.
He was rather short, just above shoulder height of Nell, and eerily lanky. So thin to the point that she could see his bones jutting out from under his leather jacket. His skin was deathly pale, a sharp contrast to the masses of gleaming black cyberware adorning his body. Well, a better descriptor would be it was his body. Whatever skin that was left was marred with rows and rows of scars; some faint, others fresh. Frankly, she couldn’t decipher where man began and machine ended. He didn’t have any eyes; instead, he had a long row of red light that bridged across where his gaze was supposed to be. His hair was a stark mane of red that was tangled and matted in unpredictable knots down his back. And of course, he had his name sake: a massive, curved sickle replaced his entire right hand that glinted menacingly in the light. His right foot also had a curved blade of a prosthetic that he pressed all of his weight on, causing him to have an odd gait to his walk.
“Who’s this?” he asked. His voice was a deep bellow shot out of a blown out speaker. It was like a growl building inside of a dog on the verge of death. Nell winced at the sound.
“Our newest shadow, Nell Miller!” Arkie announced proudly. “Erica’s find.”
He immediately recognized the name. Blood began to boil in the room.
“Aren’t you that corpo? From a few months back?” He pointed his curved blade at Nell, portending a grim promise.
Nell swore she could feel her soul getting dragged out just by the sight of it. Erica’s soft, encouraging touch returned it and urged her to stand and speak. She took the chance before her mind could get the better of her.
“Not anymore,” she managed. “Was down on my luck, and didn’t think I would last any longer. Erica here helped me out and decided to give me a second chance.”
A new wind of bravery fueled the heart threatening to break out of her chest. She challenged his frigid, emotionless stare. “Now I’m here to take it.”
Sickle intently studied her.
Then, he came to his conclusion. He offered his still humanoid hand out to her. Nell let out a soft breath and took his hand, giving it a firm shake.
“You’re not a suit anymore. You’re honest. I like you.” Was his justification.
Nell could hear Erica and Arkie sigh out in relief, too. Erica rose onto her feet and wrapped a tight arm around Nell’s shoulders. The tension shot out of the room as quickly as it had entered.
“Aren’t you a charmer? Got a hunk o’ steel to like ya!” she laughed, but she abruptly cut herself off as Sickle sent her a piercing glare. He then re-settled it onto Arkie.
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“Are we dismissed, sir?”
“Yes, yes! Go, get out of here! Sooner you get to work, the sooner we get paid!” He then shooed the three out of The Basement and shut the door on them.
“C’mon, let’s take my ride. Should be just a hop-skip over there,” Erica said. They promptly loaded up and made the trip towards Rammie’s. It was a short drive and in soon enough time, they ended up in The Fan. Nell expected it to be his apartment, or maybe a neutral location to talk in, but what she didn’t expect was a raging night club. In the middle of the day, no less.
It was bizarre architecture for a night club. Instead of neon lights and sleek modernity, it was housed inside marble and pillars. One might mistake it for a museum or a landmark of some kind if they just arrived in Richmond. The only thing that would make someone think twice was the lack of windows and the music blaring through its walls. As Erica pulled in front, they unloaded and made their way to the front door.
“What is this place?”
“Monticello. It’s Ramirez’s club and his prime place for business.”
“Thought his name was Rammie.”
“Pfttt. That’s just what Arkie calls him. He hates it, though.”
Before Nell could comment, the music would be disturbed by the sound of gunshots echoing from inside. Sickle barely waited for the two before slamming himself through the doors and making a break for it inside.
“Hey, where’s he going?” Nell shouted over the noise now spilling into the street. Erica flashed her a grin.
“Don’t worry about him! C’mon, you’re late to your first real fire fight!” she shouted and took off after Sickle.
If this was a few months ago, Nell would be stuck to the ground. She’d be sinking into the concrete, gasping for breath with nothing to kick out from. She’d simply accept her punishment and accept she was now a part of the sidewalk; to be trudged on for as long as she lived.
If this was a few years ago, she’d kick someone else in ahead of her. She’d snap and bark and threaten them until they soaked up bullets and she could waltz in unscathed. It was simply one loss among others. Simply a statistic for the greater good.
Now, she was taking off after Erica without a second thought. Not a moment to stop and think, not a moment to repent and beg for forgiveness, not a moment to let her mind get the best of her. She let the adrenaline running through her veins force her ahead into the fray. She didn’t try, or accept, or anything–
She just was.
So, she leapt into the thick of things inside the club.
Immediately, she was met with a bullet just barely whizzing past her cheek. She gave a yelp of surprise and flinched away. Erica quickly grabbed her by the back of her jacket and pulled her down behind a few lounge couches that were placed right by the entrance.
“Watch out, they got like seven guys!”
“Seven? How are we gonna take them out?”
“Just shoot and Sickle’ll n’ I will take care of the rest!” Erica replied. She vaulted over the edge and charged at a near-by assailant.
Nell gave a ragged sigh. Peeking over the back of the couch, she indeed counted seven guys: Three behind the bar, two ducked behind an overturned coffee table, another hiding against a lounge chair, and Erica currently slamming one’s skull into her knee. Nell lifted the Blunderbuss and glared down the sights at the one cowering behind a chair, firing off two slugs. One launched clean through the fabric, spawning a flurry of feathers. Despite the fauxscreen, the second slug landed right in the coward’s shoulder. He let out a sharp snarl, but it was cut halfway by a third cleaving through his throat. Blood sputtered out like a gruesome sprinkler before collapsing on the ground. Each ringing gunshot was just barely audible over the heavy thump of a bassy song playing above them.
“Sickle’s gonna raid the bar. We’ll take Coffee guys, alright?” Erica commanded.
“Where even is he?” Nell retorted. As she scanned the bar, she caught no sight of the man.
“I dunno, but that’s what he said on Coms!” Erica huffed out. “Doesn’t matter, alright? Just cover me!”
“Alright, alright!”
Erica flashed Nell a grin before sprinting for the coffee table. Nell fired off two wild shots to distract them as Erica landed behind the lounge chair the coward was behind. Her two shots went in opposite directions, drawing out a laugh from the man behind the table. With a quick reload, she silenced him with a bullet carving a hole right through his gaping mouth.
The other coffee guy gasped in shock as he saw his partner stiffen in death. Erica took the chance to launch over the chair, connecting her fist with his jaw. He swung around, scrambling for purchase, until another fist tore his nose off his face. He was finished with an elbow to the back of the head slamming him into the ground.
“Alright, Sickle, they’re all yours!” Nell heard Erica call. She glanced over at the second battlefield a few meters away. From the lights hanging above the bar, a figure dropped down and Nell immediately recognized the glint of metal. Sickle’s victim gave a sharp howl of pain as the terrible sound of skin ripping managed to speak over the busting music. Gunshots rang from the bar, but they were no match. With frightening speed, Sickle managed to dip and weave past the gunshots and slice his blade right through one of their necks, cleanly beheading them. The last remaining hostile gasped in horror and dropped his gun. As he tried to force out words, he was only met with a curved edge digging through his chest and sticking out on the other end. Sickle dumped him like a hunk of rotten meat.
Nell just stared; at a loss for words. It was unlike anything she’d ever seen, but not in the horrified kind; the almost . . . beautiful kind. A type of morbid beauty that fascinates and awes. Maybe it was her senses teetering on the edge, or maybe it was a sign of something else. Nonetheless, she was snapped back to reality once she saw Erica and Sickle reconvening, strewn in blood.
With a shuddering sigh, Nell pulled herself to her feet and went to join the two. In the meantime, the music was finally cut off, leaving everyone’s ears ringing from the sheer noise.
“Good job,” Sickle said to Nell. “Wouldn’t think a Skinner like you could shoot that well.”
“Skinner?” she puzzled, glancing towards Erica.
“It’s someone who doesn’t got steel in their veins,” she explained and accentuated it with a flex of her cybernetic hands.
“Oh, er, uh . . . Thanks,” Nell awkwardly coughed out. Sickle replied with a bob of his head.
“Alright, Ramirez! Show yourself, we took care of your pest problem!” Erica then called out.
“Neeeon. I expect no less from Arkie’s, eh?” a southern drawl of a voice called. The three turned to the stage crowned with the DJ’s booth and there was Ramirez, idly swirling a whiskey in a glass.
He was formal, almost a corpo, even, if not for his bright crimson arms. They were ornately painted with gorgeous, meticulous scenes of Renaissance quality in a contemporary tattoo of the decade. His jet black hair was neatly slicked back and his mustache was cut to a fine line. His suit was fine-pressed, shining ebony under the faded lights. When he grinned, you could see silver teeth glint under his lips and Nell winced at how much it must’ve hurt. If anything, he looked like the type of gentleman who would own a club called Monticello.
“You almost died, and you’re drinking?” Erica guffawed. “You really are Arkie’s best friend.”
“Calms my nerves, Ms. Normandy,” was his twang of a reply and took a sip. As he surveyed the trio, he nodded in Nell’s direction. “Who’s she?”
“Fresh meat,” Sickle said. “Erica dragged her in.”
Nell met Ramirez’ gaze. Oddly enough, it felt comforting. Her nerves cooled to a gentle simmer. “I’m Nell.”
“Well, you’ll be seein’ much of me, trust and believe. Me n’ Arkie go back,” Ramirez replied. He stepped off the stage and approached her, holding out his hand. She took it and gave it a firm shake.
“Got a hand for business Ms. Nell. I like that,” he observed, flashing a smirk. Nell shrugged.
“Had to get it. Gets the attention of a gentleman like you.”
He laughed the same bombastic laugh like Arkie. Ramirez shifted his glance to Erica. “You better lock her down quick, or I’m takin’ her for my business.”
Erica rolled her eyes in response.
“Whatever. You said you had work,” Sickle said. It was about time to bring the conversation back to what they really were here for.
“Riiight, that. Well, y’all just did a part of it.” He finished his drink and tossed the glass over his shoulder. It shattered into pieces leaving it to spill in the scattered pools of blood around the club.
Might as well, since you gotta clean up anyways, Nell thought.
“And that is . . ?” Erica asked.
“Have y’all caught wind of a little gang called the Matchsticks lately?”
All three shook their heads.
“Well, they’re startin’ to become a bigger problem for the whole city. Aggressive territory takeovers, killin’ high-ranking gangers, the whole deal. Throwin’ off the whole damn economy, if you catch my drift. You heard of all the arson cases sproutin’ up on the news? It’s because of them.”
“That’s where they get the name,” Nell observed.
“Yeeeeup. If they don’t like you, they burn your whole joint to the ground with you in it and collect your insurance.”
“So . . . You want us to run security, or what?” Erica furrowed her brow.
“Something more ambitious than that, Ms. Normandy. Me and some associates of mine decided to pool our funds together to hire y’all for the job of a lifetime,” he announced evenly, smirking his shining silver teeth.
“And that is . . ?”
“Take down the Matchsticks any way you know how. Disperse ‘em, kill ‘em all, we don’t care. Just make sure they’re eradicated.”
“Easier said than done. How much?” Sickle said.
“A cool, cool, five hundred thousand, Mr. Sickle,” Ramirez said casually. Nell and Erica gasped at the number. Sickle remained as stiff as ever.
“That’s a lot of money for killing a gang,” Nell astonished breathlessly. Once again, she asked herself why the hell she ever got into the Pharmaceutical business. Ramirez nodded in confirmation.
“Yeah, well, should tell y’all how much of a thorn in our side they are,” he said with a chuckle. “Are you in, or out?”
“Hell yeah, we’re in!” Erica declared, grinning from ear to ear.
“Neeeon. Now, best you get to planning. Might be a bonus in it for you if you’re quick about it,” Ramirez said suggestively.
At that, all three of the Fire Fighters quickly scrambled out of the club and into the car to report back to The Basement, much to Ramirez’ raucous laughter.