Tina reverted to her normal mode of transportation now that she was fueled back up: walking. Or walking and dashing, as the case turned out today. She stuck to the side streets and alleys as much as possible while in the city, but once inside the dingy confines of the favela, she broke into a full run. Hiding was impossible in the slums, at least for her. Too many people knew her, and she was too damn big not to spot. Better to just get where she was going as quickly as possible.
She considered heading to her own favela shack to resupply on cash, but there was no telling what kind of trap Raul or even Marcos may have set up for her there. Besides that, she needed to find out who those two men were. And why Marcos had decided to ghost so quickly after she had killed them. And she needed to do it all before this dose of treatment wore off.
The thought irked her.
Yet another form of control by Marcos—disappearing like that. Making her face whatever he was running from all on her own. Making her grow desperate as her reserves ran low, subtly reminding her who was in charge. As much as she despised him though, Marcos was still the only person with the connections to supply the military-grade nanomachines she required to keep herself alive, and at a price she could afford.
There were other options, of course—a commercial variant with less potency and major side effects—but she had seen too many of her friends die from using those. There was also the other end of the spectrum: legal designer drugs that could combat the side effects of her bioenhancements without the use of nanomachines at all. Sure, she couldn’t be superwoman anymore if she took them, but at least her body wouldn’t try to eat itself every four days. She didn’t have the millions of reais to afford those kinds of drugs, though. Not in this economy, anyway.
Back home, in the US, a decent job with insurance could easily cover the cost. Back there, able to afford the drugs, she might actually have a shot at a somewhat normal life. But to get back there, she had to make enough money to pay off her debt. And to make money, she had to keep working for this sick bastard until she could afford to be free of him—for good.
The thought of it caused her stomach to sour and her temples to throb. Her cursed life.
She should never have come here.
Tina took her frustration out on a garbage bag, kicking it into a wall. The bag burst open, and an immense sense of satisfaction coursed through her as the contents splattered. Her only disappointment was that it hadn’t been Marcos’s head.