I woke up and immediately wished I hadn’t. Bright light stung my eyes- or eye, and I squeezed it shut again. I was in a bed of some kind, lying on my back. A burning, itching sensation covered me in patches, and my head pounded like I’d spent last night slamming bottom-shelf synliq. Oh, and someone seemed to be slowly tapping a long nail into whatever was left of my left eye.
After a few seconds I mustered the courage to unclench my eyelids. The burning white above me resolved into the familiar ceiling of Doc Laggard’s underground clinic. I barely remembered arriving; the drugs had begun to wear off and Fidi had practically carried me down the stairs. Doc had music going, as usual. This time it was some rollicking quarry-western tune. “…an overdose of drugs, an overdose of sin, an overdose of hard livin’ and a bottle or ten…” How very topical. Beneath the music I caught the sound of voices, as well as simulated gunfire.
“Okay, and how in the hell do I do that?”
“Throw a grenade? X button. Right here.”
“I thought that was for pistol-whippin’.”
“No, no, only on the alternate control scheme. Melee is…”
Walker and Doc Laggard. The latter was no shock, but the former…was he just here for a debriefing, or out of concern for me? I felt a twinge of affection for the leathery old bastard. Not that I’d let him know it so easily.
“Hey-“ My voice came out as a croak, so dry was my mouth. “Hey, nerds! Could I get some water over here?”
“Sharkie?”
“Sharkie!”
They both came running and leaned over the bed. Doc stared wide-eyed at me, then fumbled for the readout slate hanging from the railing and squinted at it with almost comic intensity. He’d changed up his look since last time I’d seen him: his ruffly hair was blonde, almost glowing against his coffee-colored skin, and his eyes were set to electric blue. Walker was the same as ever, frowning with worry and glancing between Lag and I.
“Well, Doc?” he said. “Why the kerfuffle? It’s good she’s up, right?”
“She’s also still thirsty,” I rasped.
“Not so thirsty you can’t crack wise,” muttered Walker. He walked away, though, and a moment later I heard water running.
“…Yyyyes, it’s good you’re up, Sharkie, it’s just you weren’t supposed to be for another few hours.” Doc gave me a pensive look. “Your metabolism is just fucked, I guess. I had enough sedative in your bloodstream to put a normal person down until the Kings come back to life, but your liver just mulched right through it. The analgesics, too. Which means…” He started so hard I thought he’d tip the bed over. “Which means you’re probably in a deal of pain!” He punched a key on the slate.
“I’ve felt better- ahh.” Whatever he’d sent into my IV worked quickly. The itching almost subsided and the stabbing pain in my eye dulled. “So what’s the damage?” Walker returned with a plastic cup full of water. I took it and drunk deep. Funny how water tastes better than almost anything when you’re really thirsty.
“Well, first of all, did you really get shot in the head like Monta said?” He stared at me so eagerly I thought he might start taking notes.
“Yeah, I did. And where’d he go, anyway?”
“He wanted to stick around, but his wife needed help at home,” said Walker, talking right over Doc’s excited sputtering. “And you shoulda told me you knew each other, dammit!”
“We didn’t know until just now, man. Seriously.” I almost asked him about the hand we’d stolen from Blue Division but I didn’t want to bring it up in front of the Doc. Instead I turned back to Laggard. “So. Doc. It was a slug out of a caseless Thayer. Probably a four-and-a-half millimeter. What did it do?”
“That’s the amazing part. Other than a small cut and a mild concussion, you’re fine! Except for all the other injuries, I mean.”
“It didn’t, I dunno, dent me or something?” I wondered if I’d have to start going to a body shop instead of a doctor soon.
“Nope! Not even a scratch to your skull. Your crazy tungsten-ceramic alloy…stuff is just as tough as you’d think. As your doctor, I’d recommend against any more bullets to the face, of course, but you seem to have taken this one a lot better than most people do. It’s not usually a treatable condition.”
“Right.” I’d learned quickly that it was best to take Doc Laggard in stride most of the time, like Walker did.
“‘Kay, what else…A deep stab wound in the left shoulder, a shallower one in the right upper chest, various smaller cuts and abrasions- all of which ought to be healing quite well, considering ol’ Clyde gave me a whole case of nano to hit ‘em with.”
That explained the itching. I turned to look up at Walker, my eye wide. Nanotreatment was monstrously expensive and he’d thrown a loads of it at me no questions asked. For his part he just shrugged and glanced off to the side like he was embarrassed.
Laggard went on, reading the slate. “What with all the blood loss and drugs and poison, I gave you a complete blood replacement. The real stuff too, not synthetic!” He grinned like I ought to be excited. “And as for your eye, well, bad news and good news.”
I tried to shove myself up on my elbows, but couldn’t make it. “Give it to me, Doc.”
He flipped his feathery bangs out of his face. “Bad news first: The eye itself was a lost cause. Sliced clean through to the retina. Imagine, like, a stepped-on cherry tomato.” Walker put a palm to his face at the fine display of bedside manner. I flopped back down to the bed and sighed. I wasn’t surprised, but that didn’t make hearing it any nicer.
“The good news, though, is that I saved the eyelid- and the socket will be ready for an implant in a day or two, what with the nano. I’m partial to the Honobu TrueIris line, as you probably noticed. Highly anthropofidelitous.” He tapped one of his eyes with a fingernail, producing a clink that set my teeth on edge.
Walker snorted. “I think she’s already made her pick, Doc.”
“What- oh, yeah, I forgot you already found some!” Laggard jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Your head’s in the freezer. Just don’t freakin’ forget it in there, you know? Last thing I want is to go for a midnight ice cream and find that staring at me.”
That he kept desserts in a medical freezer was worrying, but then I remembered what he was talking about. Taking Lyu’s head with me had felt like the most natural thing when I’d done it, but now it seemed kind of ghoulish. It was too late, though, and hell, if her optics were nice enough maybe I would just use one.
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“Don’t worry, I’ll take it with me.”
“Good, good,” said Lag. “Now lie down so I can knock you out again. The nano works better when you don’t disturb it.”
I lay back, but Walker put up a hand. “Gimme a few minutes to talk to her, Doc. Is that alright?”
The Doc shrugged. “Sure, it won’t hurt her, and it’s your nano.” He abruptly walked off to move some stuff around in his cabinets.
I frowned, realizing something. “Dunno where I’m gonna put that head, now that I think about it. I don’t have a fridge.” I looked at Walker sidelong. “You think you could hold onto it for me?”
Walker cleared his throat. “About that…”
“Yeah?”
He grinned. “I seem to remember you askin’ me for a new squat, among other things. And, well, I gotcha one!”
“Y-you’re serious?”
“As a bullet to the head.”
“Shit, Walker, thank you! That’s awesome!” I couldn’t keep the grin off my face. He’d said he would do it, sure, but it had seemed abstract until now. “Where’s it at?”
“The building’s on Ishimura, a few doors down from my office. ‘Course we own the whole thing, though you’re only gettin’ one apartment. Two beds and a bath. It ain’t much, but-“
“Walker, I live in a fucking tin can. Anything’s better.”
“Ha! An easy woman to please, then. And I got a couple other things, too. First of all, you remember Willy?”
“Yeah, the freelancer whose van we ruined that night you almost got whacked.”
“He could buy three of those fuckin’ vans for what I paid ‘im,” Walker grumbled. “Anyway. I asked him if he’d give you some hand-to-hand trainin’, like you asked for. Thought I’d have to burn a favor or two, but as a matter of fact he said he’d do it for free.”
That was a surprise. Willy’d struck me as the type to keep an account of how much of his air he thought you were breathing. “Oh. Oh, man. Thanks for that too, Walker, but why d’you think he agreed to that?”
He shrugged, leather jacket creaking. “Beats the hell outta me. He just said he thought you were ‘intriguing.’” I made a face and Walker noticed. “I know. Weird. But believe me when I say he knows what he’s doing in a fight.”
“Alright, alright, I’ll go see him. Once I’m not a cyclops.”
“Vandermaas ought to be able to stick one of those eyes in for you. I don’t keep on top of that stuff, but they looked pretty flash- and imagine what the fuckin’ Blues will think when they see you walkin’ around with one, sheeit!” He chuckled, but then his face grew serious. “There’s actually one more thing, Sharkie. Something else I wanted to do for you.”
Something about his tone made me nervous. “W-what?”
He raised his left hand, the one tattooed with bones and runes and odd little sigils. “If you like, we’ll getcha inked. Make you a full-on Holy Bone. Only if you want, though. No pressure.”
He said that, but it wasn’t true. He’d done a lot for me, way more than he had to. It made me wonder again why he was so generous, so friendly. Was he just a nice guy, or was it to make me dependent? To take advantage of my feeling like I owed him? My first instinct was to say no. To not commit. Pretty fucking late for that though, isn’t it? I’d killed two Blue Div heavies and I’d lost count how many soldiers. I was pretty fucking committed already- and I was sick of lying to Sawada. If I got inked I’d have to tell him the truth, for better or worse. I wasn’t looking forward to it, but it would beat having that guilty feeling in my gut whenever I thought of him.And finally, even if Walker was playing me, if the buddy-buddy shit was just an act, well, I was still getting paid. I wasn’t going to go work in a chop shop or pick through junk again.
I sighed and met Walker’s eyes. “I’ll do it.”
He didn’t need to ask if I was sure. “I’m glad,” he said. “We’ll have time to get ‘er done before the Runes meeting, I think. You’re gonna put the fear of the Kings into ‘em, little miss.” He sounded very excited.
“You really want to flex on your buddies that much?”
He hesitated before answering. “…Yes and no. Sometimes it’s good to put up a show of strength, though, ruffle some feathers. Lets people know you ain’t gonna be left in the dust.”
“Alright, alright. You gave me a house with a shower in it, so I guess I can come look scary for a few hours.”
“That’s the fuckin’ spirit.” He grinned nastily. “Speakin’ of which-“
“No!” shouted Doc Laggard as he power-walked back to the bed. “No, no no! No booze! It does not, in fact, cure everything like you quarrymen seem to think!”
“Aw, come on, Doc! Just a little nip, just to say congrats!”
“I’ll pass, Walker. Last time I drank something you gave me I needed a kingsdamn oil change.”
Laggard laughed as Walker looked back and forth, offended. “That was-but-ugh! What a couple of dicks! Fine. More for me.” He stomped off out of view.
“Thanks,” I whispered to Lag. “That stuff he drinks tastes like shit.”
“Hmwhat? I was being serious.”
“Oh. Then, thanks anyway for taking care of me.”
“Shit, it’s no problem when he’s throwing all this deng at me. He ought to start selling policies.”
I snorted at the thought of Walker peddling insurance. “He wouldn’t make much handing them out to people like me.”
“The trick is to take people’s money but never actually pay any out.” He tapped the side of his nose like it was a great secret. “Now then, it’s time for sleep. Nighty night!” He punched a button on his slate and before I could say anything I slid down a great dark chute into nothingness.
—
“That healin’ nano’s like magic, ain’t it?” said Walker over the agonized rattle of the engine.
“A miracle is what it is,” I replied. I’d left Doc’s less than forty-eight hours after checking in, and while I still had bandages over my wounds they weren’t even deep enough to need stitches now. Even I didn’t heal that fast on my own. It hadn’t taken long for me to get sick of lying in bed, eating tasteless medical arpaste, and listening to Laggard yell at his teammates over holochat. I’d called Walker as soon as Doc gave me the go-ahead, and he’d offered to give me a ride to my old place and help me move.
Rather than the usual clapped-out sedan he arrived in a clapped-out pickup truck. The paint was so eaten by acid rain it resembled a psychedelic holo, and the interior was gutted down to the sheet metal. I could hardly see my boots beneath the drift of beer cans and spent brass in the footwell. The engine put out enough top-end noise to fill in for a black metal drummer, the exhaust had a bad leak, and where the floorboards weren’t covered in detritus they were rusted through. All SOP when it came to Walker. I wasn’t sure we’d make it to my new place without monoxide poisoning.
“You sure whoever sold you this pig wasn’t a Blue Div assassin, Walker? I’m genuinely concerned for our health.”
He looked over sourly, a hand-rolled cig dangling from his lips. “Well, pardon me, Miss Concours Connoisseur! I’m sorry this old girl ain’t numbers-matching, but she sure beats hell outta worn-down bootheels and a slap on the ass.” I started giggling. “What? What’d I say?”
“S-sorry, man. It’s just, I think that’s the most quarry thing I’ve ever heard you say.” He gave me a dirty look but I couldn’t stop laughing. “Sounds like- you know, like the first bad guy in a Jet Colter flick, the one that tells him where the main dude is then gets capped!”
“Aw, come on now! I’d make a great main villain and you know it.”
I finally got myself under control. “Yeah, maybe. What would that make me, then?”
He scratched his stubbly chin, pushed the brim of his hat higher. “Second henchman. The big guy, y’know. You’d fuck ol’ Jet up, then get tricked into a paste macerator or somethin’ afore you finished the job. Monta’d be first henchman. He’d turn his coat on me in the end, or sacrifice himself so I could escape ’n bait the sequel.”
I sighed, falling back against the seat. “You know, as unflattering as it is I can’t really argue.”
“I didn’t mean nothin’ by it, Sharkie.” He glanced at me. “Really. Just messin’ around.”
“I know, Walker. You’re good. I just get into my own head sometimes. All these fuckin’ drugs aren’t helping that any. If I never take another painkiller it’ll be too soon.”
“I’ll drink to that!” He raised an imaginary glass in one hand, using the other to swerve around a particularly inattentive jaywalker. “There ain’t so such thing as a good drug. ‘Cept caffeine, I guess. And alcohol. And maybe some cocaina and good Iogur pit speed on the weekends.” He winked at me and I just shook my head.
“I don’t party that hard, Walker.”
“Maybe it’s time to start. But shit, ain’t this your place?” Sure enough, we’d pulled up outside the conexes on Kyiv Street.
“Yep. I’ll get the gate open.” I hopped out, still moving a little gingerly, and went up to Hermy’s guard shack. His feet were kicked up, and his face was hidden behind the usual lewd comic. I recognized the cover- he had impeccable taste, as usual. I beat on the window and jerked a thumb at the truck. Hermy hesitated until he saw Walker in there. Then he fumbled his literature away and hit the button for the main gate, his jowls filmed with sweat. Walker rolled through without even glancing at him.
Moving my stuff out was pitifully easy. A folding cot, a locker full of clothes, a couple plastic crates of books and my movie posters didn’t even fill the bed of the truck. As I looked back on the empty room I said to Walker, “You know, I’m almost going to miss this place.”
He raised an eyebrow, looking up an me from beneath his hat. “Really?”
I snorted. “Fuck, no.” We left without looking back.