“Move in, sir, everything is fine.” Jeki yawned, allowing the trader to pass through the checkpoint and enter the city.

Since the declaration of a ceasefire between the Resistance and the invaders, her excellency Jekaterina had assigned Jeki and other members of the Young Guard to patrol and guard duties in various cities. Jeki’s luck ran out, and she ended up being assigned to a town at the border with the Bento’s Tribe.

This place bore the traces of the Soultakers, each building was sturdy built, with windows resembling narrow slices in otherwise solid walls. Thousands of the sun cult's statues once adorned the streets, but they have since been demolished, and the former priests have either worked in factories, found other jobs, or left the city. Narrow streets were paved, and the town itself was surrounded by a mighty wall. Citizens still grumbled at the need to leave the firearms with the guards upon entering the city. The former church of the Sun God was remodeled into a mix between a kindergarten and school, and those priests who publicly denounced their faith were allowed to help teach the new generation.

This place almost looked like Jeki’s home. Almost. Being a border city, the place attracted all kinds of unsavory individuals. Mutants, abnormals, smugglers, bandits… You name it, this place had it. There was an intricate balance between all parties right now. The Resistance had a need for certain supplies that only the black market could provide at this time. Thus, they tolerated some of the scum, allowing them to have a few “establishments” at the end of the city. But the moment these scum spread their taint anywhere else in the city, Jeki allowed her swords to talk.

A woman was walking toward the main gates, dressed in what looked to be a skintight outfit of deep blue, with no zipper in sight, made of leather that flowed into a helmet on her head. A visor utterly hid the woman’s face. The entire left side of her body, staring at her head, looked weird, as if she let herself go only in one part of her body. The left side of her helmet slightly extended forward, making the visor’s screen curve under the weird angle. On her shoulder, the woman carried an oversized mancatcher, a long metal pole with a half-moon piece of metal at the end. At first, Jeki felt her blood running hot, assuming that the woman might be a slaver, but then she noticed an emblem on her chest. A growing tree, its leaves wrapping around the woman’s breasts and hiding behind the armpits, while its roots went toward the boots. Iternian. Only they were dumb enough to use something like this for a national emblem.

“No, mom, I will not be celebrating my birthday this year,” the woman cheerfully said, holding a small, transparent rectangle in her left hand. “No, it’s not because of that! My colleagues are all awesome people, and… Listen, I am on the job. Here!” The woman moved the rectangle before herself, and the device made a clicking sound. “See? I am not a slacker. Love you, bye!”

The woman pressed something at the rectangle, and the device slid into the material of her glove, disappearing entirely. Approaching the guards, she saluted them with the oversized left hand:

“Ratcatcher of Iterna! Pleased to meet you all!” The right side of her visor slid to the side, revealing the smiling face of a green-eyed young woman. Her blonde hair was tied into a short ponytail and lay next to her jaw. Several freckles covered her chin, Ratcatcher kept smiling despite the cruel sun that was shining from above. Most people in the Ravaged Lands could not endure the daylight without anti-heat suits.

Then again, this one is from Iterna. Hardly normal. Jeki gestured that the woman may close her helmet, not bothering to check her papers. Lady Jekaterina warned her about this arrival.

“Same to you,” Jeki replied in a dry voice, sizing up the woman through the lenses of her helmet. “Reason for coming?”

“To retrieve one of our lost lambs. He should be in the south of this city.”

“Hm. This may be a problem. Some of the establishments in that region only cater to abnormals.”

“No problem,” Ratcatcher said as the left side of her visor slid into her helmet, revealing an ugly snout. A beady crimson eye looked at Jeki, blinking in unison with a human green eye. Long whiskers were coming from the gray fur at the left side of her face, sticking out into the helmet. The woman kept smiling, and Jeki saw fangs on the left side of her mouth.

Hm, another mutie. Adorable. Well, at least it’s not one of those damn doggies. Jeki thought, nodding to Ratcatcher: “Feel free to go in, miss. No use of firearms and no killing, or we will go straight for your jugular. Have I been understood?”

“Clear as water, miss!” Ratcatcher saluted again, and her visor closed. She walked deeper into the city, and Jeki saw what looked to be a seam on her back.

Ha, this must be how she takes this stupid suit off.

****

Ratcatcher thanked the guard in front of the bar, allowing two men to search her. She only rolled her eyes, feeling their hands clearly groping her, and tapped at the door, coming inside what passed for a pub in this place.

The explorator was greeted with a dim light and clouds of smoke that gathered at the ceiling. The only way air could get in was through a window at the end of a large hall, which was not enough to deal with the pollution. The bar’s counter took up one side of the room, and barely anyone granted Ratcatcher as much as a glance. On the opposite side of the bar, an elderly magician was performing a trick of sawing his assistant in two. Ratcatcher giggled, hearing a noise in one side of the box, way before the assistant's legs even went there.

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Tired-looking maids were walking between the tables with shady-looking characters. Some of the patrons were covered with scales, others with a few tentacles, but most people here were perfectly ordinary humans, safe for augmetics here and there and a swathe of scars covering their flesh.

Ratcatcher could hear Ontrel Graves before she saw him. The man stood at the corner of the hall with his back to her. He was missing a shirt and boots, and the rest of his items were lying on the table. His opponent put the cards away and pushed items toward himself, while Ontrel grabbed his head in desperation.

“Dammit! How!?” The small and thin man tried to stand up and froze, feeling a blade against his spine. Nervously looking around, he licked his pale lips. “Listen, I can pay up, just let me grab my…”

“I don’t think I will.” The bald and muscular man, dressed in a tattered long coat and outdated exoskeleton, slammed a knife between Ontrel’s fingers, forcing the man to jump in panic. “Pals.” The man nodded at his goons. “Saw how you popped in and out of existence. Who’s to say you won’t jump on me like that?”

“Bew, I… don’t have such money on me…”

“A shame, but you should have thought about it before. Pay now, tokens, credits or…” The man tore the knife out of the table, pointing at Ontrel’s heart. “An organ or two might do.”

Ratcatcher allowed the left side of her visor to slide away and came closer, grabbing the woman who held a knife to Ontrel’s hand by the wrist. The explorator pushed her back and swung her mancatcher, letting the half-moon touch the table and forcing Bew to let go of Ontrel. Bew raised both arms, stopping his goons from lunging at her.

“Not to say I don’t appreciate the company of a nice lady.” Bew tipped his hat to the smiling Ratcatcher. “But we’re in the middle of something, hon. Hear the clue and leave in one piece.”

“Can’t do, my friend.” Ratcatcher patted the escapee on his shoulder. “See, Ontrel right here suffers from a gambling addiction. He got himself into legal troubles and was committed to a mental institution.”

“Troubles with money, I presume.” Bew leaned back in his chair, putting both his hands on a table. The explorator nodded to him. Her enhanced ears caught the sound of something sliding down the sleeves of his coat. “I fail to see how this should bother me.”

“Miss Elisa,” Ontrel whispered, “These men are dangerous…”

“Be silent, mister Ontrel, everything is fine. Ontrel, you see, can’t control himself when it comes to gambling, mister Bew. For now. He will be healed eventually. Alas, he managed to slip out of the ward, and now I must bring him back. How about you enjoy a glass of something at my expense, I pay for him, and we all go our ways nice and whole?”

Bew nodded, and one of his men pushed a list of papers toward her. Ratcatcher’s brow went up upon seeing the amount that Ontrel lost today. Not only did he lose his gear. But he also managed to lose his nonexistent house and car here.

“That’s a problem…” Ratcatcher clicked her tongue. “You take payment with nature by any chance?”

Bew nodded, and Ratcatcher allowed the other side of her visor to slide away, glaring at him with her full face.

“Let no living soul ever say that Fast Bew ever backed off from an offer for recreation from another woman because of her looks. If you have a proper hole, the Slow Bew is ready to go.” The man stood up, scratching his crotch, undaunted by her looks. “One night won’t do, though. You will need to whore yourself for a few of my clients if you want to cover this debt.”

Shit!

“Listen, mister, jokes are fine, but I can’t afford to pay that much for mister Ontrel right now. Nor will I leave a citizen of Iterna in danger. How about I leave my contacts and you can sue mister Ontrel…”

“I can see your problem.” Bew nodded amiably. “And have just the solution.”

His hands moved upward, just like Ratcatcher expected from him. Twin thin daggers flew from the sleeves of his coat, aimed at her eyes. Ratcatcher jerked Ontrel backwards as she swung her mancatcher upward, blocking both knives. The chair with the scared man grated across the floor away from the table, and Ratcatcher kicked the table into Bew and two of his men, sending them toward the wall.

Two more jumped at her from the sides, shock batons in their hands. She let her mancatcher kiss them both, one was hit across the lower jaw with a weapon end, and the other was hit with the upper end of her weapon. Both men were without helmets, and her strike was hard enough to cause them minor concussions, knocking them out cold. She caught them both with the mancatcher, letting two unconscious people safely fall to the floor.

The last goon lunged at her from behind, aiming a knife at the nape of her neck. Even without her armor’s systems, Ratcatcher could hear the woman approaching. The strike never landed, and the confused goon saw how a rat’s tail came from the seam in the back of the Ratcatcher’s armor. The tail jerked the woman closer to the explorator, and Ratcatcher hit back with an elbow, landing a hit at the woman’s throat. She measured her strength, of course, making sure not to cause any lasting damage.

However, the goon probably never had the time to appreciate that, not with Ratcatcher pushing her before herself, landing a hit at the back of the goon’s knee, and sending the goon face down at the table. The impact from the hit sent one of the table’s planks upward, hitting a goon at the other side of the table across the jaw.

Bew kicked the table away from him, and Ratcatcher’s power armor absorbed the impact as it shattered against her legs. The man threw his arms up, and wires shot from underneath his sleeves, flying toward the explorator at the speed of a bullet and wrapping around both of her wrists raised to protect her face. The armor screamed a warning. Bew was sending jolts of electricity strong enough to cause irreversible damage to her organs. Ratcatcher ignored the warning, the armor could absorb this much. She was much more bothered by the fact that she could not break free.

The last goon came at her from the left, aiming his knife at her eye. Without looking, Ratcatcher struck with her tail against his legs, throwing the man off balance and catching the blade with her fangs. Her tail wrapped around the man’s throat, and she threw him away, landing him on a nearby table and leaving just her and Bew.

The wires retracted back into his long coat, carrying Ratcatcher with them. She kicked with her right leg, aiming for the man’s crotch, and Bew blocked the kick with his own leg, grabbing Ratcatcher by the head with one hand and pressing a pistol to her green eye with another.

Their whole fight attracted no attention from the other patrons in the bar, most of them were still seated, drinking, or playing. But when Bew pulled a gun on her, all of them, even the bar owner, shouted at him to drop it.

“Shut it!” Bew threw to them, looking into Ratcatcher’s eyes/ “You know why I am called Fast Bew? It’s because…”

Ratcatcher slowly started moving her head away from him, preparing to spit in his face. The shot will leave a mark on her cheek that will serve as a reminder not to make any future mistakes on the job.

She blinked in surprise when Bew lost both of his hands after a single blur sliced them in two, stopping just short of reaching her knee.