“You sure know how to pick them, Vesp.” Bear gave me a hard, and painful, pat on the back as soon as we’d exited the tunnels.
To claim the interior of the sewage treatment plant’s main building had seen better days would’ve been an understatement. The Claws had clearly taken over at some point in the decomposition, but had done very little to repair the place beyond the bare necessities. The walls were all cracked, windows gone entirely, as were most doors and tiles. The only reason there was no mold was because there was no AC, so the extreme summer heat would cauterize the whole place from top to bottom.
It was here where the Claw’s “media center” sat, the only room with a reinforced door, its interior cluttered with cables and server racks. The “content manager” team were three gang members laying near the servers, their heads kept cool with ice-packs. Because of course there were no screens, who needed those when you could just use your neuralink instead?
I saved myself on the grumbling, rubbing the sore spot and walking over to Vesper.
“You did it.” Her tone was carefully neutral.
“I did, technically,” I sheepishly scratched the back of my head, reminding myself that the broadcast had cut off after the match. They didn’t know about my meeting with Shadow, or anything that had transpired. My mind was currently bogged down, trying to think of anything… everything. One elder, just one elder and Shadow would drop this whole thing. If only these “elders” weren’t up there at the same level as sky-top management, I’d believe I had a chance. “Sorry about the earpiece thing, I… got a little heated.”
“We saw.” There was a seriousness to the undertone that made me flinch a little. I felt scolded, even when nothing else was said. Vesper was a bit of a saint, however, because she just immediately turned to Bear. “And you owe us a favor.”
The meguca sighed, crossing her arms. “You got that look, Vesp, what do you want?”
“I want you to protect Axel.” Vesper declared. “I know that-”
“No.” Bear immediately cut her off. “I’m going to lend a hand, but there are limits. If it comes down to a fight, I can’t intervene.”
“But-”
“No, Vesp. We have to respect the lines, or we get another Vegas.”
I blinked. “What does Vegas have to do with this?”
The only thing I’d heard about them had been that the city had buckled under monster attacks, just enough they could no longer sustain their population. The fourth district in New Francisco had been made out of all the people from Vegas who’d come over seeking somewhere safe. Apparently there was some sort of politicking going on, but it wasn’t like I’d bothered to look into it.
Bear glanced at me. “The megucas in Vegas felt their territories were too small and started shitting on each other, hard. It got ugly, several megs died. The weaker ones ran off, and it left Vegas with their panties down when the monsters got a spike in numbers.” Turning back to Vesper, she frowned. “Ask for something else.”
That took the winds out of Vesper’s sails. “I’ll shelf the favor for now.” She declared, combing her fingers through her hair. “What about the Paws? Are you still going to try and call in our debt?”
For a moment the meguca pondered that, looking at me, then at Vesper. “If he survives the week, I’ll consider him an honorary meguca and call things square.” She shrugged. “If he doesn’t, then that favor is worth a lot. Or so I’m told.”
Several people gave me odd looks, I squirmed. I’d gotten a single concession out of Bear on the way over: To not tell anyone that she thought I was a meguca.
Aside from not wanting to get the Saints’ tangled in my mess, the situation was too fragile. I couldn’t fathom the kind of chaos the knowledge could cause if it leaked out. Forget scientists trying to get blood-samples out of me, I could bet an arm and a leg that I’d get lynched at some point. Who in their right mind would look at a shirtless dude pretending to be a caveman and go “yeah, that’s a meguca”? The concept could either be laughed out of the room or become a political-identity typhoon the likes of which hadn’t been experienced since the early 21st century. It was the sort of wild variable I didn’t want to risk, not when so many things were up in the air.
“I’m gonna go to the car, if you don’t mind.” I called out to the others as they continued going back and forth about negotiations this, social-media mentions that, events there, and so many other things I wasn’t paying any attention to.
Vesper hesitated. “You look like shit, maybe get Angus to look you over?”
“No, I’m fine, just exhausted and bruised.” I waved it off, not really wanting to be anywhere near the doctor who’d taken some samples out of me without permission. “I’ll go lay down a bit, don’t feel rushed on my behalf.”
It was late, and I’d been pummeled. I just went over to Vesper’s car to maybe find some snacks and definitely get a quick nap before we headed back and got some proper sleep at the Motel.
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Vesper looked over the details of the contract, it was a loose agreement that Bear’s channel would throw in links to the Saint’s online store, alongside several other promotional content pertaining to Axel's streaming profile. There were other caveats, such as reinforcement that no content could leak out where Axel’s face or real voice was revealed. It was standard procedure amongst streaming channels, it was practically routine for Vesper, what with how much of the paperwork she’d needed to handle for their previous meguca.
There was, however, an unspoken question lingering overhead. One Vesper would’ve hesitated to voice it with normal company, but the awkward tension with Bear just made it worse.
“No, I won’t tell you what happened after the cameras left.” The meguca pipped up as she signed what had felt like the hundredth piece of legal documentation, handing over the signed duplicate. “He got what he wanted out of the bet, but things are complicated.”
“So he met ‘Shadow’.” Vesper could believe the legendary meguca assassin would target him if only because he was in the doc’s orbit. The gang’s donor was so far up the corporate structure that they might as well have been talking about a demigod of old. But for him to have actually met the assassin? That was the stuff that you’d only hear in tall tales from drunkards in fourth-district dredge bars.
Kimberly chuckled. “I told you I’m sort of a big deal. Maybe you should reconsider merging the gangs.”
This again.
Usually she’d throw a snappy retort at the suggestion, or just flat out refuse. But after tonight? After seeing Axel not just stand up and fight Bear, but actually get her to take him seriously? “Maybe it should be you that joins us.” She shot back. “You are the current Chosen One, after all.”
“Fuck you.” The meguca growled at the reminder she’d been out-witted by the newest recruit back at the party. She crossed her arms, grumbling in that way that was equal parts intimidating and adorable. “You should not get involved.” Bear added before anything else could be said. “This is meguca business.”
And just like that, any amiability for her former companion was whisked away. “It was always like that, with you.”
Bear frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Forget it.” With a wave of her hand, Vesper closed up all the legalese apps. “I think we’re all wrapped up. The Sewer Saints appreciate the opportunity you gave us today, and hope we might do business again.”
“We both know I didn’t do this because of the gang.”
The words froze Vesper in place, gaze meeting Bear’s. Was this some sort of power move? A ploy? It brought back unpleasant memories of what had once been. So summoning more courage than she felt, she straightened out. “Then that’s your problem, Kim.” She spoke coldly, ignoring the way Bear flinched as she turned to leave.
The meguca didn’t stop her.
Vesper sent a message for the others to hurry packing up.
It was time to get back to base.
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Moreau drummed her fingers as she looked at the clip over and over, one might even argue obsessively. Not her, though, she was looking for something hidden between the frames. In it, the image showed Axel, face hidden behind a 3D-printed rendition of a cow’s skull. The layer of AI-assisted CGI that’d been draped over the scene had been peeled off by the doctor’s own little digital tools and trinkets, though at the cost of some quality in the image.
“Tch.”
She rewound again, to that singular instant when the brutish meguca had unleashed the attack that had lost her the match. That singular moment when chains had appeared on her right wrist, and then shattered, a sequence barely taking a handful of frames, even in the ultra-high definition stream.
“Problem?” Bob asked, calmly pouring a cup of lukewarm water for her to drink.
“Look at this.” With a flicker of her wrist, she sent the clip over to him.
“Yes, I saw the fight.” He acknowledged. “What am I looking for?”
“Does it seem like she did that intentionally?” The doctor asked, leaning back into the squeaky and uncomfortable metal chair.
There was a rumbling that made the room shake, the tramway clattered onwards several floors overhead, the lights dimmed for a moment before the power came back on.
“Hm…” Bob pondered. “She does look a bit surprised after the fact, but it could just be because the kid’s still in one piece.”
“Maybe my hopes are staining the interpretation of the data. Let me think.”
Moreau’s fingers drummed against the armchair with an erratic beat, less a rhythm and more a sequence. Every iteration, she’d alter a single feature of the sequence as she followed several trains of thought. Whenever she reached a tentative conclusion, she’d pause the drumming, frowning at the concepts as they were written out within her neuralink’s database. An AI-assistant would give an initial level of importance and certainty, triple-checking for duplicates and commonality points. The longer the list became, the calmer the drumming became, parts of the sequence subdued now that they’d been put into writing, until, eventually, it stopped.
She checked the list’s item count. 496, a perfect number. Certainly, most of the items were hot garbage, but sometimes when shooting in the dark, the best option was to bring a platoon of flak cannons.
“Ah, you’re done.” Bob sat down, handing her another cup of water.
Moreau took a moment to acknowledge the dry scratchiness in her throat, and that her internal clock pointed at a full hour having passed. “I’m getting slower.” She muttered, glancing at the reflection on the boarded-up window next to her. The face staring back at her was her own, yet different. Her hair had gained several new tones of gray, her face a few new wrinkles.
Bob very rudely forced her to look away.
No words needed to be shared, she knew all too well the temptation to obsess over the wrong things at the wrong times. Her hand reached into her pocket, pulling out a quill, the quill she’d taken from that most wondrous of discoveries in the unlikeliest of places.
Deep in her gut, she felt like this was the answer to all of her problems.
Even if she didn’t know how.
Not yet, at least.
Illogical, in a way, but not when the potential lingering within looked so vast.
Perhaps it would become clearer once Axel finally got around to sending the promised samples? Oh well, something to complain about in the future. “An experiment is due.” She declared, spinning the quill like one might a pen, its sharp tip whistling as it cut through the air. “How many favors do you think I would need to burn through to get our Axel a fair fight?”
“Against the Shadow? Unless that monster part got something up its sleeve, I don’t see how that encounter could ever be fair.”
Only one tab remained as the doctor prepared to shut down the various processes to allow herself some rest. The clip of Bear, taking a sudden step back as Axel flew off from the impact, a confused grimace as she stared at her own hand.
“Hm…” A single digit rose then dropped as one more item was added. “Perhaps there’s a way.”