Page 22 of The Fall

It was also Harpy turf. Kerr looked nervously at Chalice who walked straight-backed and wore her best don’t-fuck-with-me face. She nodded to the doorman who let her pass. A well-dressed woman appeared, obviously expecting them. She walked them briskly to a booth at the back of the shop before leaving them alone.

Kerr quickly scanned the room for potential dangers. As if ordered, not a single person acknowledged the presence of two out-of-place Chargers.

Kerr leaned over to Chalice, who sat stone still, eyes glued to the door. “Why are we on Harpy turf again?”

“Siku insisted on a public location. The Harpies agreed to provide one.” She lowered her voice. “They’d like to see the Styx control over DocPods broken just as much as the rest of us.”

“Grand. What are we paying them?” Kerr couldn’t imagine this sort of favour being cheap.

Chalice picked at the plastic coating of the table. “Scrip, for now. If this goes well and we get all of our DocPods working again, we might be able to trade services.”

Kerr watched the regulars come and go – protein farm workers, based on their coveralls. Too busy scraping together a living to care about turf and gang wars. As long as they only shot at each other and left the regulars to their jobs, they were happy to abide by the unwritten rules of whoever decided they were in control. None of them looked in her direction.

“Do you think they have NRG?” Kerr whispered. “It’s too early for shots, yeah?”

“Don’t you dare.” Chalice mumbled threateningly, staring straight ahead.

Kerr moved to leave the booth and ask someone, but nails digging into her leg stopped her.

“I wasn’t provided etiquette. If you get up and it’s taken as hostile, we’ll be waiting another ten years.” Chalice relaxed her grip. “We can’t afford that.”

Kerr sunk back into the booth, swallowing her grumpiness when the door opened. Two girls. The same ones as before, only older. Striding in confidently and sporting a mohawk, the red-haired one looked like she expected everyone to be her best friend. She winked at the hostess. The hostess blushed. Removing her jacket to prove she had no weapons, Kerr spotted it. Piston’s arm. Modified to fit her, but she recognised it immediately.

Reaching for Tybalt and Mercutio, her fingers found empty holsters. It was probably for the best they hadn’t been allowed weapons or her impulsivity would have killed the deal before it started. The Adlets could have picked anyone else. Sending her was probably meant to get under their skin.

And then, staring from a height most women didn’t reach, a set of dark brown eyes zeroed in on her. Broad shoulders and well-defined muscles. Hidden by her long coat last time, Kerr could see how she’d taken Cinder down so easily.

Lusa. Everyone in Tyton knew her name. Kerr had memorised her face.

The foolishness of her fantasy became immediately apparent. Even if she had been permitted weapons, she would be lucky if she made it two steps with the knife. Her decade-long vendetta evaporated; a childish delusion, about as likely as Greasegun making it to The Glacier.

“Thank you for meeting with us.” Chalice said with a cordiality Kerr had never heard. She gestured to the booth. The red-haired one was about to sit, but Lusa stopped her.

“You’ll forgive us for asking to change places. After what happened last time.” Lusa’s voice trickled out low and throaty, like warm syrup.

Feeling the tones ripple along her skin, irritated that it caused her body to react with fear, Kerr frowned as tightly as she could, channelling it into anger. “Why? You have men outside.” She’d spoken out of turn, but Chalice didn’t stop her. “And last time, this happened.” Kerr held out her artificial arm.

Lusa didn’t apologise. In fact, Kerr thought she looked proud. “You did that first. Last time.” She pointed her chin to the red-haired one. “If I hadn’t stopped you, your bullet would be in her skull.”

Expecting hostility, Kerr turned to the red-haired one. Instead, she found her and Chalice making heart-eyes at each other. “What the fuck, Chalice?” she hissed.

“She’s right. You did shoot first.” Chalice tucked a blonde curl behind her ear. “You always did have poor impulse control.”

Kerr could have set off the smoke alarm. She was used to Chalice trying to goad her jealousy, but this wasn’t even in the realm of appropriate. “She killed your dad. And took his arm,” Kerr hissed.

Lusa cleared her throat. “She doesn’t seem that upset about it.” She shoved the red-haired one into the booth, facing the door. Chalice took the seat opposite. “For the record,” she gestured for Kerr to take her spot next to Chalice. “I only needed an arm. He got in the way. It wasn’t personal.”

Kerr refused to move, fuming like an angry leprechaun.

“I’m sorry,” Lusa apologised, but it felt like a formality rather than regret. “If you’d like to rehash what happened a decade ago, we can leave.”

Not giving her a chance to respond, Chalice yanked Kerr into the booth beside her. “We recently rebuilt an Aquadesal printer. We can make as many water filters for almost any model of water plant you’re using. Just tell us what it is.”

The red-haired one opened her mouth, but Lusa placed a hand on her arm. “And in return?”

“Override chips. You already know the model we’re using.” Chalice wore her serious face while she spoke with Lusa, but finished every sentence with a flirty glance back to the red-haired one. Kerr couldn’t believe she was doing this now.

Lusa adjusted a ring on her thumb. “You don’t restart trade relationships with the people who killed your former leader for override chips. What do you really want?”