Page 94 of The Fall

“Right. Callie had the same idea you did and she would have burned all of Tyton if Talia hadn’t taken her with her.”

Lusa remembered Callie throwing herself at Piston out of nowhere. Being caught by the throat. Dangling helplessly. “She’ll get herself killed,” Lusa said to herself.

“Exactly.” Alana lifted Mackenzie over the debris at the door. “And if that happens, Sesi and Talia really will burn Tyton to the ground.”

Once Lusa had helped Alana seat Mackenzie in the cab of the nearest truck, she ran to grab a set of clothes from the bike. “They’re a bit large, but they’ll do for now.” Lusa’s face turned sour. Seeing Mackenzie in her clothes felt too intimate, but she had no other option at the moment.

She turned to Alana. “Find Kerr. Please? Tell her this isn’t what she thinks.” The desperation in her voice surprised her. She wasn’t supposed to be this vulnerable, especially not with someone who had been so cold to her growing up.

“Don’t worry about it.” Alana pulled her in for a hug, feeling her shoulder moisten. Lusa had been half this size the last time she’d done that. Alana pulled away first.

Lusa thought she saw a tear, but Alana turned too quickly. “Thank you.”

Every Inordinate Cup Is Unblessed

Even in spring, the fog that rolled in off of the Arctic Ocean froze to a steely haze before floating gently to the ground once night fell. The soft glow of Hexaline lamps, at one time numerous, now dying as unmaintained turbines went offline, did little more than provide a grey ambiance. The streets were darker than Kerr had ever seen before.

Hence the fire barrels, banned long before Kerr had been born. The risks outweighed any benefits given that fuel was needed and even the most wretched Chem addict had a Thermabulle. But laws are only as good as your ability to enforce them. And since the Model corps and their SecTac teams stopped getting paid, gangs filled in as de facto law and order. Your turf, your rules.

The conversation between two women and a man standing around a barrel died as Kerr got closer, but her aural processors caught snippets. Rumours had spread of Chalice’s death. Nothing about Cinder or a merger with the Styx. Yet. Kerr was grateful about that, at least. One of the women raised a hand in acknowledgement of her presence. Kerr half-heartedly waved back before shuffling on.

Idle chatter around a fire barrel wasn’t what she needed right now. Kerr needed to get thoroughly scuttered and unload on Greasegun.

They saw her as soon as she entered. It would have been nearly impossible not to since she was the only other person in the place. Without the lasers and strobing lights helping you keep the rhythm if you were an especially shitty dancer, the bar looked downright decrepit. Corrugated aluminium panels and rusted deck plate filled in the gaps of the crumbling Hexaline walls, the former loading bay to MB12 had seen better days.

“Wha’d you fuck up now?” Greasegun set down a glass they’d been cleaning. “I thought you would have been happier that Chalice was gone.” Their prosthetic eye glinted unnaturally with glee.

Kerr did not have it in her to scowl effectively. Especially because Greasegun was right. She should be happy to be rid of Chalice looming over her life, except she knew what would be coming next.

“Aww. You’re too precious when you try to be angry at me. You know that, right?”

Kerr sat like a dropped rucksack. She wasn’t in the mood for Greasegun’s nonsense.

They took the hint and set a heavy square tumbler on the bar. “Is this about that girl you brought in, then?”

It was, but Greasegun shouldn’t have known that. They always knew too much. And then sold that knowledge in their lifelong quest to buy a one-way ticket to the Glacier. Kerr opened her mouth, but they stopped her with a look.

“Don’t bother, I don’t have spies on you, I see it every day. And your poker face is especially ratshite.” Greasegun pulled a bottle from under the counter. “You’d have fucked her on the dancefloor if she wasn’t so oblivious. Not all there, is she?”

Kerr hated being read so easily. “How do you know it wasn’t someone else? Maybe it was a boy, yeah?”

“Please.” Greasegun said with a dramatic flourish. They uncorked the bottle with their teeth and poured a translucent green liquid into the tumbler, shoving it toward Kerr. “I’ve never seen you with a he or even a they. You’re not here to get praise for exploring your bi side and you’re acting like a pedantic twat instead of giving me the gossip you know I need.” Greasegun rolled their neck. “You want to feel like rubbish, which is why you’re here in the middle of the day.” They nudged the tumbler closer to Kerr. “Now out with it.”

Kerr dropped her eyes to the tumbler. “It smells like gear oil and toothpaste.”

“It’s absinthe,” Greasegun declared proudly. “Cinder found it in that corpo safe he finally cracked. But you know about him and alcohol.”

She did. Real alcohol was an expensive vice, and getting addicted to it meant that Cinder had been a somebody before he’d ended up with the Chargers. Everyone else had started out poor and become Chem dependent from corporate cyberware.

“He tried to give it to his crew, but they couldn’t get past the smell.” Greasegun wiped a spilled drop with their finger. “I figured I’d wait until someone with more discerning tastes came along.”

“And you think that’s me?” Kerr held her arms wide, presenting her torn and dirty rags for inspection – the height of fashion, truly.

“I mean,” Greasegun bared their palm, laying out the evidence. “That girl you claim this isn’t about? The tall one with black hair and gorgeous skin with the face that says you could bring her your heart in your teeth and she’d cut it into pieces in front of you? And then you’d beg her to do it again?” Greasegun clapped a hand over their chest. “I’m not into women, but there’s something about a mean girl.”

Kerr didn’t appreciate Greasegun fawning over Lusa. “What does this have to do with your weird booze?” She tapped her fingernail against the tumbler.

“You somehow manage to punch way, way above your weight when it comes to women, so you must have good taste.” Greasegun nudged the tumbler closer. “It’s later that you fuck it up.”