I glanced over at Walker, who was looking at Doc Laggard and I like a proud parent. I wanted to tell him to stop being weird but the Doc was moving a mile a minute. I couldn't tell if he was high or just really into his music.

I pulled off my coveralls, the foul improvised bandage, and my shirt before sitting down, since they'd probably just be in the way. My slabs and weapons went under the bench. Walker actually turned around and very pointedly started messing with his slab when I undressed. Maybe there was a gentleman in there somewhere beneath all the cigarette butts and sour caff. I was a little embarrassed myself, sitting there in my underwear. I guess I could have asked him to leave, but what did it really matter? We were all adults here, and I trusted him more than this doctor.

"You don't have somewhere to clean these, do you?" I asked the Doc. "I really don't feel like putting them back on."

He tapped his chin, thinking. "I can chuck 'em in the spare sterilization bath. They might smell like chemicals afterward, but they'll definitely be clean, you know?"

"Do it, if it's cool with you."

"Aye aye, ma'am!" He delicately lifted the clothes between for finger and thumb, then put them in one of the big wall cabinets. He tapped a couple controls on the door and I barely picked up a low hum beneath the music.

"Okay!" said the Doc as he came back over and put on a fresh pair of rubber gloves. "Gunshot wound, right? Let's have a look!" He hadn't acknowledged my state of undress at all, which I was happy about. Good bedside manner, I guess. I obligingly raised my arm and he peered at the wound. "Fuck me, that looks nasty!" Well, so much for that.

"Hmm, pistol round, I'm guessing-"

"Yup."

"I think it was a frangible slug, too. All sorts of little bits of lead in there."

I sighed. "Great."

Now it was his turn to look confused. "Not great! Pulling them all out of there is gonna suck!" I noticed now that his eyes were so bright because they were bionics, very nice ones. I could only tell by the lack of blood vessels and the glassy sheen they had.

"I, uh...I was being sarcastic there, Doc."

"Oh. Of course, you were. My mistake. Now, it doesn't look like you got any real bleeders in there, very nice...Does it hurt when you try to take a deep breath? Other than from the wound itself, I mean."

"It aches a little, I guess."

"But no sharp pain?"

I shook my head.

"Good, that's good!" He smiled and nodded. "You're bruised for sure, but it doesn't sound like you have any broken ribs. So here's what we're going to do. We'll hit you with a local 'thetic around the wound, irrigate it as best we can, I'll tweeze out all the lead I can find, and then we'll get the thing patched together. Even with the local, it won't be fun, though. You ready?"

"Go for it." I had never been too scared of things like this. Sure, it sucked getting hurt. I definitely didn't want to. But sometimes pain was unavoidable and it was best to just get it over with.

"You got it." He grabbed supplies out of the cabinets at lightning speed, not even having to look. They all went on a white cart which he moved over beside the bench.

First, he sprayed the wound with some sticky orange stuff out of an aerosol can. Then he gently washed it out with an astringent-smelling solution from a bottle, catching the effluent with a towel. The pain receded a good bit as the 'thetic worked. I still felt it, though, when he started poking around in there with tweezers. Bit by bit, more pieces of metal clinked into his little tray. Sometimes he had to shift or tug at the wound a little to get to a particularly stubborn fragment, which I definitely felt. I had to hold my arm up the entire time, which at least gave me something else to focus on.

"So-ngh!-how'd you get that name?" I asked, mostly to distract myself. "You seem pretty fast to me."

"Heh. He's takin' it easy on you," muttered Walker from his time-out corner.

"Oh, I used to be in a band when I was younger. We played extreme thrashpunk. Called ourselves FARTH, Fuck Admin Right To Hell." He chuckled and pulled out another bit of lead. "Not very creative, but we were kids, right? I played the drums, but no matter what I couldn't stay on the beat. Always lagged. Sooo...I started selling music instead of making it!"

"What-well, what about being a doctor?"

"Oh, I just do this on the side," he said dismissively. Amazing. "My parents taught me, and I always had a knack for it. It pays the bills, that's for sure! It's incredible what you people will do to yourselves to make a buck."

"Yeah. Unbelievable," I mumbled. Walker just laughed. "I was-kh!-wondering about that though. Can't people just get music on the net for free?"

"Oh, boy," came the commentary from the corner.

He actually stopped working long enough to roll his bionic eyes at me. "Sure, if they're tasteless poseurs. Anyone interested in the cutting edge stuff, the real music made by real artists instead of Admin sellouts? They come here, if they're dedicated enough to find the place."

"Ah. Makes sense." It didn't, but I already regretted distracting him. After I let him work in peace for a little while longer he set the tweezers down with a clank. "Yes! Finally!" He stood up and pumped his fist in the air. You'd think he was the one who'd just had a bunch of unfriendly metal pulled out of him.

He grabbed the tray full of fragments and rattled it around in front of my face. "Look at all that crap! Imagine if you'd been hit dead-on!" There was indeed a lot of lead in there. "You want me to put it in a vial for you? You could wear it around your neck or something?"

Why the hell would I want to? It was just a bullet. "Uh, no thank you."

He was nonplussed. "Huh. If you say so." He unceremoniously shook the pan out into a biohazard bin. "Most people want to keep whatever I pull out of them, weirdly enough. Man, I had this one guy took a sniper round-he got so mad when I tossed the slug I think he wanted to hit me! Kind of tough to throw a punch with a hole in your gut, though." He was looking at me kind of suspicously.

"I promise I won't hit you, Doc." A relieved grin spread over his face. "Think you could get this bound up, though? Walker hasn't had a smoke in ten minutes and I'm seriously concerned for his health."

"Aw, go to h-"

"Yeah! Of course, of course." The Doc talked right over the grumbling from the corner. "Unfortunately, the wound's too broad for me to just suture it. It's shallow enough at the ends that I don't think it's gonna tear, so I can just patch the whole thing with CySkin and then bandage."

CySkin? I was impressed. The stuff was as hard to find in D-block as a good night's sleep. "Don't sound so down on yourself, Doc. I was expecting you to burn it shut or something."

"Why would I do something like that? I'm a real doctor, not some kind of quarryman sawbones."

There was a choked noise from the corner. "Oh, come on. Now you're doin' it on purpose!"

Doc Laggard winked at me and it was only the pain in my side that kept me from laughing.

"Okay, okay, let's get this going..." He rummaged around some more in the cabinets and pulled out something that looked like a cross between one of those packaging tape holders and a laser pistol. He snapped a plastic guard over one end and came over to me. "All you gotta do is hold still."

Easy enough, even if my arm was beginning to get number than the actual wound. He ran the applicator over the wound just like you would taping up a box. Instead of tape, it reeled out a strip of pinkish-white CySkin that clung to the wound like plastic wrap.

"'Kay, that looks good..." Doc muttered to himself. He hit another button on the applicator and a blacklight hit the CySkin for a few seconds Its color deepened, and I felt it tug at the edges of the wound a little. He put a padded bandage over everything and stuck it on with surgical tape.

"Alright, another job well done." He stood back and gave his work an appreciative look, then smiled at me. "You did great! Knucks! Knucks!" He held out his fist and I gave it a tentative bump.

"Um, sure. You too, Doc. Thanks."

"You're welcome! Now," he calmed down a little, "you ever had Cyskin before?"

I shook my head. I'd never been able to afford it before. I'd always been stuck with regular bandages, or some stitches from Sawada once when I cut open the back of my hand on a bench grinder.

"It's simple enough. It acts kind of like acrylate glue, but more flexible and organic. It'll bond up with your skin and speed up the healing process a lot. It dissolves as real skin replaces it, so no need to go peeling it off. As long as you don't disturb it too much it'll be fine. Just keep a bandage over it and don't go cleaning yourself with a wire brush in the shower."

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

I was mostly sure that was a joke. "How long for it to heal, do you think?"

He rolled his eyes again. "I don't know! What am I, a medical expert?"

"Um, I sure hope so-"

"Kidding! Kidding!" Again, Walker laughed and I didn't. "Really though, everyone's different, but you'll probably be good in ten days or so. It'll still scar, though. I'm not that swank. Unfortunate. Right across the serratus anterior. It'll break up the lines."

I was't sure if it was more or less offensive he was talking about me more like an artistically-designed building than a woman, but whatever. Doc Laggard was weird enough that I think he genuinely didn't mean anything by it. The more important part was ten days. Wow! I'd had cuts not nearly as large that took twice as long to heal.

"That's pretty great, Doc. Thanks again."

He scoffed. "Thank Yakkorp, not me. They designed the stuff. And charge out the nose for it too. Hint. Hint."

"I fuckin' heard you the first time, Laggard," Walker said. "You'll get what you're owed."

"Do you have to put it so ominously?" asked the Doc. "Anyway, I think your clothes are done." I stood up as he got them out of the sterilizing cabinet.

They smelled like disinfectant and were stiff and crinkly with antimicrobial residue, but as residues go I'd definitely traded up. Slipping the shirt and coveralls back on was like a breath of fresh air. They were even warm like they'd come out of a dryer.

"Oh!" exclaimed the Doc. "I actually forgot about this, but I'd probably throw those out when you get home, or at least have them geigered. The box puts out a nice dose of G-rays to kill anything that survives the bath, and as a medical professional I can tell you: gamma radiation isn't good for you."

So they weren't warm, they were hot. Awesome. Asking Doc why he'd only remembered after I got dressed would be pointless so I just said, "Will do, Doc. Thanks."

"Honestly, if it's safe for my instruments it should be fine for you too. I think. Probably."

"Like I said, thanks."

"No problem!" He began putting instruments away or into the sterilizer, bobbing and rocking to the music as he moved around.

I went over to the punishment corner. "You're good now, Walker."

He turned around. "Man, you smell different, but still not good."

"I feel better, too. Thanks for asking."

He snorted. "Well, that was a guarantee. Wouldn't have brought you here otherwise."

"I appreciate it, Walker. Seriously." I really was thankful, but I couldn't help messing with him a little more. "And who would have thought chivalry wasn't dead?" I gave him a lopsided smile.

"Now why bust my nuts about that?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Would you rather I stood here ogling the whole time?"

I felt myself blush a little. Damn it. "N-no. Thanks for that too."

"No worries. Chicks with open wounds ain't really my thing anyway."

Gross. "I'd hope that wasn't anyone's thing."

He'd been in the middle of lighting up a burner, but seemed to remember where he was and put it away with a sigh. "No matter how weird or gross, someone's into it. Whatever 'it' is. So how you want to pay for this? Half 'n' half sound good?"

That was a surprise. I would have thought it was all on me. "I mean, sure, but how come?"

He squinted at me. "Guess you never heard of not lookin' under a free truck's hood. You did this on real short notice, like you said, and you got shot for it. This is just a little bonus."

"...Okay. If you say so." Was it just a bonus? Maybe he was trying to gain my trust further, or make me dependent. Maybe it was even working a little bit. As long as I kept that in mind, I could take the help, right?

We haggled a bit with Doc Laggard-he drove a hard bargain, despite his personality-and eventually worked things out to about fifteen hundred denars. A good chunk of deng, but not as big as I'd thought it would be.

"Good to see you, Walker! Get some sleep! And you, great to meet you, Sharkie!" he said when we said our goodbyes. "I'd say I hope to see you soon, but I don't want you getting shot again. Even if it does mean I get paid!"

"Uh, I appreciate-"

"So maybe come by if you want to buy some real music instead of Admin-approved, mass-produced garbage!"

"You know, maybe I-"

"Awesome! Have a nice afternoon, now!" I guess that was goodbye. Walker and I went back upstairs and through the door. The girl at the counter gave us a little wave, which I returned. I noticed her flourescent tats pulsed in time to the beat. Cool in a I'd-never-do-it-to-myself way.

Walker had a cig lit before the door closed behind us. "Here. These are yours." He handed me another fat bundle of chitcards, and I pocketed them without bothering to count.

"Thanks, man."

"You know I said you don't have to thank me." He smoked about half his burner in one drag. "Good crap, I am starving," he said after blowing out enough smoke to make me cough. "Hungry?"

"I could eat." My stomach was already growling from smelling the pho next door. "I could eat a lot."

He eyed me sidelong. "I'm guessin' pho is good with you?"

I was already moving.

---

"Old Laggard's somethin', isn't he?" asked Walker as I finished my third bowl and signalled for another. We were sitting on the bench at the tiny pho restaurant, our bowls sitting on a counter which faced the kitchen area. The whole place which had to be even smaller than my apartment.The soup was amazing-arpaste noodles and what tasted like real pork floating in savory broth, with all kinds of onions and limes and sauces to throw in there as you liked. The hard-faced woman behind the counter had gone from smiling to apprehensive to impressed as I made bowl after bowl disappear. It was filling but I was just that hungry.

I wiped my mouth and took a gulp of water before replying. That dark red chili sauce wasn't playing games.

"That's one way to put it. He does-" I had to stop, interrupted by a belch.

"Holy shit," muttered Walker. "You better not eat this place outta business, Sharkie. That kinda thing's bad for our reputation."

"Excuse me, that was disgusting." I drank more water, slower this time. "And I'll make sure I don't. It's too good to close. Oh, thank you." The woman running the stall set another bowl in front of me, then settled back to watch with sinewy arms across her chest. She was observing me like I was some kind of creature whose properties she didn't quite understand.

I didn't mind as long as she kept the soup coming. I slurped up some noodles then turned back to Walker. "He does good work, is what I was gonna say."

"He saved my life more than once, that's for sure." He let the chef take his empty bowl and ordered another beer.

"How'd you meet up with him anyway?" I asked. "He doesn't seem like your crowd."

"Oh?" he said archly. "And what's 'my crowd' supposed to be? A bunch of rough an' tumble rockbreakers straight outta the open-face? Just 'cause I talk like this don't mean I don't know people."

I sighed, embarrassed. "Sorry, Walker. Foot in mouth over here."

"Sheeit, don't work too hard. That's a big foot." He looked down at the offending appendages. "What are you, a sixteen?"

"Seventeen men's. Shoes are harder to find than a vic with a clean title."

He snorted. "I don't envy you. But I met Lag through his big sister. Nice girl-nice woman. Took pity on me when I first moved here from the quarries, showed me the ropes afore I shit-talked the wrong people and ended up in a paste macerator. Always made fun of my accent, but...but still."

There was something wistful about his tone. "What happened to her?"

He looked over at me, unsurprised I'd picked it up. "She worked tending bar in Fifth Ward, up the road a ways from here. One night some freelancers came in looking for some quick deng, decided it was fastest to skip over 'hold-up' and go right to 'shoot-up.' Just stupid random bullshit, you know?"

"Damn, Walker..." I never knew what to say about things like this. "That-that just fuckin' sucks," I muttered lamely. "What was her name?"

He looked kind of surprised, but smiled a little. "Lily. Lily was her name. It was some kind of pretty plant in the Sun Age." His jacket creaked as he sighed, hunching further into it. "It was a long time ago. S'what pushed me to the Bones, you know? Trying to stop shit like that. And there's my shoehorned old man moral: I know our work ain't the cleanest. It ain't the most pleasant to think about. But somebody's got to keep a lid on the madness, and Admin sure as hell won't do it so it may as well be us."

I stayed quiet. I'd been thinking much the same thing to myself, as an excuse, as a salve to my conscience. Or maybe as a distraction, to keep from thinking too hard about the fact that my conscience didn't need much salving after all.

"What happened to the guys that shot up the bar?" I finally asked.

"Hm? Oh, I never found 'em."

I almost fell off the bench. "Wait, seriously? Just like that?"

He gave me a big, silver grin. "Nah. Took me a month or two to track 'em down, but I did it. Waited for 'em in their squat, kneecapped the pair of 'em and strung 'em up from from the Edo Street overpass with razor wire. Still got the scalps around somewhere, in fact."

I felt myself go pale. The way he said it was so matter-of-fact. I decided to take it as a reminder, a reminder that no matter how dangerous I felt, if I stuck with this I was probably never going to be the scariest person in the room.

"But enough of that sad-sack shit! That's two jobs well done in two days, Sharkie! The big bosses are gonna be all fired up when I see 'em tonight."

"Uh, sure. Great."

"Aw, it ain't that bad. No one's gonna fuck with you when you work for me. And the big guys got bigger things to worry about, no offense."

I set my jaw and nodded. "Alright. If you say so." He started squaring up with the pho chef, shooing me away when I tried to hand him some chits. I set some on the counter anyway. I could afford to tip big now. "But Walker?" I asked when he was done.

"Yeah?"

"Could I at least have the rest of the day off?"

He cracked up. "You have my word, little miss. You got my word. You want a ride home?"