Page 17 of The Fall

“You wanted an arm? Take it.”

Lusa separated the prosthetic with macabre precision. After years of trapping, Talia couldn’t be surprised. She left the rest of Piston and his destroyed implants for someone else to find on the floor.

“Now,” Talia held out the arm to Lusa. Lusa took it reluctantly. “We go back. You and Sesi can talk about punishments later. Now, she needs a reputation.”

“What?” Callie shrieked.

“A reputation. She’ll go first, we’ll follow and make sure nothing bad happens. Everyone will see her carrying Piston’s arm like a trophy.”

“But…” Callie protested.

Talia cut her off. “But nothing. There’s no coming back from this, Cal. The best thing she can do to protect herself is make sure people think twice before fucking with her.”

Callie flapped her arms and let them fall limply at her sides. “Fine. Let’s go.”

Conscience, Light And Lust

Greasegun slid a scrap of paper across the bar top to a man Kerr had never seen before. He pulled a scarf tightly over his face and had a crude device interfering with his biosig, but it didn’t take long for Kerr’s Opti to crack it. Dimitri Belov. Kerr had never heard of him and he departed as soon as Greasegun received their scrip.

“When are you going to the Glacier?” Kerr repeated the same stale joke, the kind that stopped being funny years ago, but repeated so often it would feel like something was missing if she didn’t.

“When are you going to take Chalice’s collar from around your neck?” Greasegun poured a drink and set it down in front of her. They leaned their elbows on the counter.

“We haven’t slept together in two years.” Kerr knocked the shot back. “And that was after a bad breakup.”

“Ah yes.” Greasegun poured another. “The goth one that went nuclear when you pulled iron on the guy shooting his shot. You’ve a jealousy problem, Seacake.”

Kerr placed Tybalt on the bar with a heavy thunk. “She hooked up with him after, yeah? Make of that what you will.”

“Is that why you’re here, dribbling depression all over my club?”

Kerr placed her right hand on the bar top. The ceramic composite clinked gently against the aluminium. “Ten-year anniversary.” She drummed her fingers.

“He was a good man.” Greasegun patted her prosthetic. The drumming stopped. Greasegun poured their own drink and raised it. “To Piston.”

Kerr raised her glass and downed it.

Greasegun placed the shot glass back down. “Now why are you really here?”

Kerr sighed, annoyed that Greasegun saw through her. “Chalice wants to trade with the Adlets again.”

“Smart.” Greasegun nodded slowly. “You know that none of that was really their fault, right?”

Greasegun trying to soften the blow felt like bugs under her skin. They’d taken her arm. Then Piston’s. “He’s her father, Grease.” She curled her ceramic fingers. “How can she do that?”

“That’s why she’s in charge, Seacake.” Greasegun straightened themselves and picked up a bar rag. “She doesn’t let her feelings get in the way. Or hold on to petty grudges for a decade.”

“You call this petty?” She held up her arm.

Greasegun gave a well-practiced stare. The one experienced barmen use when you know the answer to your own question. Everyone knew Kerr had shot first. That Cinder had fucked everything up. That the red-haired one would need a new arm. They’d all seen the Opti footage from various angles.

And yeah, taking Piston’s arm in revenge was a bit excessive, but this was Tyton. It was standard gang shite. No-one would respect the Adlets if they had let it slide. Kerr could sulk and stew, but Chalice, and everyone else for that matter, knew that you moved on unless you wanted an all-out war. One they probably wouldn’t win.

“We’ve all lost people, Seacake,” Greasegun said after a beat. “If she can let it go, so can you.” They scooped up her empty shot glass. “And if you can’t, you’re a liability.”

“Maybe Chalice should fucking let go of Lydia, then,” Kerr grunted, but she knew what they meant. Don’t be a wildcard. Don’t be like Cinder. A message popped up on her Opti.

Kerr scrunched up her face. Her room? Meetings took place in her office or in the basement.