“Here’s your cut from today’s session,” Vesper said, handing me a small pouch. “I included a basic communicator.”

I glanced inside, face immediately turning into a grimace. “This… is a phone.” Not just any phone either, the sort made out of cheap plastic and that used number-pads rather than a touch-screen. “How can this even send messages?” To my understanding, internet access required the sort of encryption that was only possible through a neuralink or an equivalent. The antique looked like the sort of device that would catch on fire if it had to handle such a computational load.

“Quinn’s the wiz, they said something about setting up an instance on the gang’s server, but it’s way too technical for my blood.” Vesper shrugged. “Look, it’s either this or total radio silence until they fix the tablet, and we can’t work with that.”

“I… guess.” I frowned at the little plastic brick. I could only assume they’d purchased it during the stream, same-hour drone delivery? “I guess it would be uncomfortable with me running around without a neuralink… how… did you manage when you had Kimberly, was it? The meguca? I heard they don’t react well to normal implants.”

“City issues a special compatible neuralink for fresh megucas. It comes with a few strings attached, though, the ‘kill this many monsters every six months’ sort.” Vesper shook her head. “Don’t let this get to you. We’re a team, right?”

There was a slight hesitation in her voice as she said the last bit, eyeing me carefully.

“Yes.” I answered readily enough. It was a learning experience, but I did mean it. “Speaking of, I need to talk to Bear.”

Vesper twitched, lips drawing thin. “Reconsidering her offer?”

“No, I just need information.”

It was hard to miss the way her shoulders tensed before she let out a whole bodied sigh. “Is this urgent?”

“Yes. I was thinking of going over the Paw’s territory after I got a few errands in third-district.” I chagrined a little, it couldn’t exactly be the easiest to be told the newest gang member was seeking to meet your ex and current business competition. But for a credit, as they say. If I was going to be honest, then might as well be as honest as reasonably possible. “Since this could potentially get in the way of gang politics, I wanted to avoid possible miscommunications.”

She gave me a long silent stare. “And the Sewer Saints can’t help?”

For a moment I hesitated. Asking for their help had not been something I’d considered before. Maybe they could help? Then again, this felt like the sort of trouble and danger that would definitely be outside their scope. “There’s a meguca that seems intent on fighting me, which is something that’ll turn out badly.” I finally decided, carefully measuring my words. “I suspect Bear might know this meguca personally, and am hoping she might be able to help in keeping me from getting diced.” I grimaced. “There are some aspects I can’t tell you about, not without…”

“Not without ensuring we all get splattered across the concrete.” Vesper nodded. The young woman looked up at me as if she’d swallowed a very bitter pill. “I… need to know, did you cause this? Is it related to the doctor?”

“I suspect it might be related to the doctor, but I have no real way to verify.”

“Fuck.” With a bitter sigh, she rubbed at her temples. “Are you sure it wouldn't be better to run for it?”

“This isn’t the sort of problem I would be able to escape.” I replied wryly. For all I knew, the Shadow meguca was right here at this very moment. But that was the point of coming at this problem head-on and in the open. “Sorry that I can’t really tell you everything, this mess kind of came out of the blue for me.”

“The honesty’s appreciated, at least.” Shaking her head, she looked like she was having the beginning of a headache. I couldn’t blame her. “A meguca’s serious shit. Just how did you…?”

“If I knew how I got here, I’d have better hopes of getting out.” My laughter came out a little dryer than intended. “And… I’m sorry for whatever hassle might come out of it. I’m hesitant to get you guys involved at all to begin with.”

“We’ll get you that meeting.” Vesper declared. “But… be ready.”

“Ready?”

“You turned Bear down, publicly.” She replied. “It’s probably best to make this a discreet meeting, but even then, Bear will probably want something out of this.”

I nodded grimly, watching her go as I quickly finished scrubbing off the body-paint and getting changed. Isia was already waiting for me by her haunted car, slamming the trunk shut and hopping on over to the driver’s seat.

“Ready?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Just drop me off at the Motel, I’ve got a few errands to do, my Bulstra-”

“Your gun?” She immediately perked up. “If you need a gunsmith, the gang’s got a few people we know. Good work, reasonable rates.”

“And yet you still sell those shitty pieces of 3-D printed plastic?” I asked, voice thick with accusation.

Isia did not excuse their horrible crimes against firearms.

Instead, she just stepped on it.

With the vehicle lurching forward at maximum acceleration, I suddenly had other concerns in my mind. Such as figuring out whether to jump off or strap on tighter.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

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With rush hour long past, the streets had been reasonably empty, allowing the mad-woman that was Isia to happily speed along at speeds that made me wish there was an actual police presence. Instead, all I could do was hold on and pray I wouldn’t have to jump if she took a wrong turn somewhere.

The single place where she respected the speed-limit had been within the “gun turrets pointing at us” tunnel. By the time we’d reached our destination (an indistinct gray cubic mega-building, no different to any other near it by anything other than the number), I’d been ecstatic to get off the vehicle and back on properly non-wobbly asphalt.

“You’re such a drama queen.”

Isia cackled, pushing her way forward into the building while I shot her a death-glare or four.

“Don’t you have anything better to do than play around as my chauffeur?”

“Right now? Nope.” She laughed, leading the way through corridors that reeked of sweat and dry oil. “Vespi’s paying me for the gas AND the time spent driving you around. Not the most generous amount, but enough that I’d rather be behind the wheel than doing nothing.”

Well, at least that explained her eagerness to drag me around. “If you’re being paid by the hour, maybe you could drive more slowly?”

Rather than answer, Isia laughed harder. Clearly, the Sewer Saints were putting her up to punish my attempts to use the gang’s resources. Otherwise, why else strap me with the most insane driver in the city? I could only grumble and follow through the maze-like innards of the mega-buildings. The structure had clearly gone through several renovations, some areas were cleaner and easier to navigate, leading into ample spaces with rooms or stores. But other parts were nothing more but wall-to-wall leaky tubes and narrow passageways.

For a moment I started to wonder whether Isia would accidentally lead us into getting truly lost, but she came to a complete halt next to a door that looked no different to the hundreds of others we’d passed.

“Here we are.” She happily proclaimed, knocking on the door three times fast, two slow, and four slower still. “Let me do the talking.”

“Uhm…”

The door swung open, an old man stood there, scowling, eyes covered by… bandages? My eyes, however, were drawn to the sawed off shotgun he was holding. “Speak.” He barked at us, and I had to wonder whether he could truly see. Eye-cybernetics shouldn’t be expensive, even I had a set of those before becoming a magubo. Then… nerve damage of some kind?

“Heya gramps!” Isia didn’t even wait, yanking me inside and breezing past the clearly loaded firearm. “Got a client for you!” Without missing a beat, she slapped my handgun down on the table next to the door. “Think you can fix it?”

Eyes widening, my hands shot to my hip. She’d snatched the Bulstra without me noticing! “When did you take it!?” I hissed at her, trying to keep my anger to a minimum, even as my eyes kept flicking towards the shotgun aimed our way.

“A girl never tells her secrets.” She cackled.

“She’s one crazy brat, that’s what she is.” The old man growled, lowering the firearm, placing it on the metal table and picking up my gun. His fingers quickly traced over the metal, deftly tracing every corner. “Bulstra 12, barely used. Weighted trigger? Bionic user… and this is… rust? This… monster damage. What were you fighting to ruin it like this?”

I blinked, befuddled, trying to figure out how he’d put all that together from just caressing the weapon.

“Good question.” Isia shrugged. “I could answer, but then I might not pay as much.” She put her hands on her hips. “How much?”

“For this mess?” The old man continued slathering his digits over the metallic surface, opening the revolver and touching every nook. “Five hundred, if I keep the rusted parts for resale or scrap value.”

That… was painful. But it sounded a lot cheaper than the amount I’d been imagining. Glancing over at Isia, I gave a tentative nod and a shrug, pulling out my cred-chips, making a point to keep my pockets well away from her immediate reach.

“You got yourself a deal, gramps.” She tossed the cred-chip at the table, dragging me away deeper into the apartment in one fluid movement. “Gonna grab something to eat!”

The grumbling the old man let out was the sound of someone who’d complained about this very thing too many times to count. I barely had the time to give the old man one last look before getting dragged down a corridor that led into some kind of patio interior. The walls were covered in potted plants, I could scarcely recognize the species before Isia snatched an iridescent red spherical fruit. My nose was immediately assaulted with a mix of wonderful and terrible scents, sewage and barbeque-sauce, spoiled cheese and apple-substitute. It was like getting punched square in the face, my head took three turns before I could regain my balance.

Everything was just so… green and colorful and humid. I felt as if I’d entered a half-baked greenhouse.

“Tomapple?” She offered, not waiting for a response before giving it a bite. “Tastes a lil like copper wiring, but it’s sweet.”

Grabbing the fruit, I felt as if the thing was primed to explode. “How much would it…?”

“It’s part of the deal gramp’s and I got going. He helps with mah guns, I taste-test his home-grown crap.”

“It’s not crap!” A voice shouted from the other side of the apartment. “And check out the purple ones!”

“The fuck I will!” Isia shrieked back. “Last time I got the runs for a god-damned month!”

“Uh…” Looking around, I identified the ‘purple’ ones as dice-sized cubes hanging off of a vine that crept over from one end, over the ceiling, and down the other. “Are you two family or something?”

“Grew up a couple floors down, third-district victim through and through.” She proudly proclaimed, not missing a beat and dragging me past the garden, leaving the tomapple in my hand as we entered another garden, albeit one with just greens and blues and no fruits. “Stumbled into this place one day-”

“She was trying to rob me!”

“You were already blind! And you shot me!” Isia snapped back. “Anyway, I volunteered to help him out with his gardening project, and he taught me how to handle guns and shit. Old man eagle-eyes’ the best gunsmith in New Francisco. He really should open a shop one of these days!” She shouted the last part down the corridor.

“And get some punk waving heat trying to get my creds? Ha!” Came the response.

I mostly looked at her, then down at the tomapple, and then back at Isia. Feeling like I’d been trapped in some sort of personal drama, I took a bite. The flavor was like licking a copper cable, but chewy and juicy. With a bit of sugar on top. It wasn’t exactly the most appealing meal, but it still beat protein gruel by a mile.

Awkwardly taking another bite, I picked up on the sounds of metal against metal several rooms down.

Isia on the other hand was just sitting there with a distant look in her eyes, at least for a good minute, before finally noticing my staring. “...forgot you don’t have a neuralink, I was just doing some vocab-challenges.” She sheepishly admitted, glancing around for a second. “Gramp’s going to be a while…”

“So…”

The prolonged awkward silence was interrupted by a jaunty tune ringing out of my pocket.

We both stared.

It was the new phone.

“Vespi swooping in with the clutch.” Isia quickly muttered under her breath, probably thinking I couldn’t hear her as I picked up the call.

“Yes?” I asked, already suspecting who was on the other end of the call.

“Bear’s agreed to a meetup,” Vesper said, voice grim. “But she wants a spar… a public one.”