Claire.
“Well, well, we—”
“Dude, for real?” Rebecca interrupted, letting out a long sigh of exasperation, while the man now leaning against the building just stuck his middle finger up at the tall girl while taking a drag from his burner.
“Fine, ruin all my fun! You know, if you’re gonna keep calling me a ‘bad guy,’ you could at least let me monologue.”
“Nobody wants to hear it, Chris… Seriously,
just fuck off.”
The man merely grinned at her, ignoring her comment to gesture with his chin at Claire. “Got money for a hooker but not for your tab, eh? Strange that… And here I thought, just this morning, Ronnie heard some sob story from you about paying me—
next week.”
Rebecca flinched at that, her mouth opening a fraction before the much smaller and, honestly, decently dressed man just let out a bark of a laugh at her. His plume of smoke pushed right into her face but dissipated quickly thereafter.
“Right, so here’s the thing, Beck. I like you, I really do. You’ve got a decent head on your shoulders—ha! Not fucking honest, but
decent
for these parts all the same. So, I'mma do you a solid and assume you’ve got enough cred to pay me 'and' that there high-priced bot. Else, we're coming for your ovaries!”
“Ugh, that’s not even funny…”
“Yeah… ain't like those would sell for fuck-all. Still,” the gangster chirped, his expression amused as it was unhurried. “I don't need to warn you that we won't be breaking those pretty legs of yours; oh no,
those
are worth a decent penny. Nay, we’ll just fucking saw your arms and legs right off, repossess whatever else we’re owed, then leave you bleeding in the street!”
He took another cheery puff, large and thick brows moving along with idle interest, as if taking a moment to enjoy the flavor, before pointing a finger at Rebecca’s chest, who, by contrast, looked to be trying very hard to hold her tongue.
“Listen… I get it: bad decision, poor impulse control. I’ve heard it all before, kid! Seriously though, this is gonna be week ‘three’ that you’re late on payment. And one of our girls or not, one of 'my' favorite girls or not, you know Big P ain't gonna abide by anyone who can't square their debts.
I don't make house calls for just anyone, Beck. I'm trying to help you out here. So, go fuck your prostitute raw, then get your big ass back out here and earn some fucking cred for once!”
“With
what
jobs? You fuckers don't hand me anything 'moral' that pays more than scraps!”
“Then take the ones that
do
pay more than scraps,” Chris shot back, a now dangerous and predatory gleam in his eye. “What the fuck do you think we financed those arms and legs for? Cosmetic appeal? Put 'em to fucking use or give 'em the fuck back. Either way, you’ve got until tomorrow to pay your dues. Then—hmph… well, I ain't got to say it twice.”
The two stared at each other in mutual silence for a time, neither saying a word, though the only one who was actually getting upset was Beckie.
And, as if sensing that, the gangster grinned, giving her a wink before gesturing at Claire with his chin. “How about it? Maybe I'll give you an extra day's extension if you send that girl down the road to my apartment instead of yours.”
“A day?”
“Eh, day and a half?”
“Fuck you, dickhead…” Beckie grumbled, pushing past the chuckling man as Claire followed silently behind.
Only when they were through the lobby and heading into the elevator did the AI bother to speak, and again, she only did so after turning off the camera that was watching them.
“Want me to curb-stomp his sanity?”
“You do what now?”
“Curb stomp his sanity,” Claire reiterated, grinning while miming a fairly explicit act with her fingers. “These bots can do some fucking crazy shit. Honestly, half of it's not even available to the public! I could have him begging for ‘walkies’ on all fours and barking like a dog in, like, four hours, tops.”
“Pfft!” The other girl couldn't help it, and she outright snorted, a little bit of snot escaping her nose, which only made her laugh harder.
Claire giggled as well, more because Beckie had just pulled off a snot rocket, rather than the part about leading the gangster around by a leash. Oh no, she was pretty serious about that and reasonably confident besides. All the larger girl had to do was say the word, and Claire would get down to business!
Honestly, she thought it would be pretty fun to break someone over her knee like that. And the guy really hadn't been that hard on the eyes. Plus, he’d been clean—a genuine unicorn of proper hygiene in a district that seemed to reject soap as if it might earnestly give them cancer.
“Okay—ha! Real talk, are you actually a programmer from Plats? Because that shit right there was too on the nose for some chick I’d been assuming liked to walk around with a permanent ass wedgie all day.”
“Gross—”
“You’re not denying it!”
“Eh, does it really matter where I come from?”
Beckie paused, glancing at her sidelong for several moments before letting out another giggle, shrugging her shoulders in reply while dropping the topic a moment later.
She only picked it back up again as the elevator slowed, arriving at their stop.
“So, obviously, you've got to see that I’m not exactly swimming in cash—” she began, pausing as the door chimed, and they stepped out onto the sixth floor.
From there, they headed halfway down the hall, Beckie pausing at a nondescript door that was the same as all the others before she tapped her finger on the pad and it opened, the girl taking in a deep breath as she did so. “So, the accommodations are gonna be pretty humble…”
Humble.
Humble?
“Christ—it's worse than the Meadows.”
“Wait, you’ve seen the inside of the Meadows?” Beckie asked, her attention snapping to Claire with laser-like focus. “Is it—”
“Not fucking worth it,” the android answered, not needing to understand what exactly the girl was asking.
Still, as Claire headed into the dreary, grimy, disgustingly mold-infested interior, her eyes blinking with genuine surprise, she couldn't help but turn back to the girl and amend her statement: “Okay—maybe there’s merit to it…”
“Fuck you! It’s not that bad, is it?”
“Pffft…” Planting her hands on her hips, Claire took a detailed analysis of the room and came to the unanimous decision that, square inch for inch, it was about as bad as Warren’s.
Now, it was essential to distinguish a few things, primarily that Warren’s apartment had been filled with trash. Beckie, by contrast, seemed to be quite neat. The thing was, it didn't matter how tidy one was, not when the place looked like it needed to be cleansed in fire…
“You didn't do all this—right?”
“No, there’s a problem with the ventilation…” Beckie grumbled, pushing her way in and closing the door. “The building has a spore issue. No matter how much you clean it, it all just comes right back.”
“That’s not healthy!” Claire laughed, unable to help herself.
It was so ridiculous!
Sure, she’d been in some somewhat rank places, but this was the first time she’d been in one where the building itself was the problem.
Usually, it was the people, not the other way around... Yet, even as Claire reached out, trying to get an understanding of what was going on, she quickly realized the situation.
“Purification filters say they're eighteen cycles overdue for changing,” she muttered, her voice causing the other girl to peer over her shoulder. “Also, there’s some sort of breach in the AC system. I don't know... Hmmm, it looks like the efficiency is way off. I can only assume warm air is coming in from the outside through some opening, and probably filling the vents with mold as well? Honestly, this place is a fucking shithole. Why do you stay here?”
“How do you know all that, not five minutes in here?”
“I’m good at hacking things.”
“R-right… A-and, I guess the answer to the other question is—well, because I can 'somewhat' afford it.”
“Somewhat?”
“Not rich, remember?” Beckie stated, drawing her words out as the woman disappeared into an adjacent closet.
Like many apartments, this one was laid out in a reasonably familiar ‘singles’ design. Meant for one or two people at most, and even then, they’d have to be intimate for it to really work.
In all honesty, it was more of a bachelor or, in this case, bachelorette pad where the living room, kitchenette, and bedroom were all part of the same space.
Off to the side, there was a small water closet that, from the schematics she’d already pillaged, she knew wasn't at all large. Likewise, there was a small walk-in closet adjacent to the powder room, which reached the other end of the wall, making the space one big square.
“Pink or black?” Beckie called, and Claire could only wonder after the actual value of wearing anything that came out of a place like—well, this…
“Black—I guess.”
“Probably better for blending in,” the other girl commented, coming back out a moment later and tossing a few things her way.
Claire caught the oversized hoodie, sniffing at it, and, no surprise, it smelled like mildew… Still, she pulled it over her shoulders, sighing all the while. At this point, Claire was just accepting her fate.
The AI consoling herself that, with any luck and faith in her own abilities, she’d be free from this land of fungi and, hopefully, sooner than later, so long as she could help it.
However, when she glanced at the other articles of clothing she’d been thrown, Claire honestly felt at a loss as to what to do.
“There’s—
no way
any of this will fit me…”
“Yeah, figured I’d give you the option anyway.”
“Thanks…” Claire began, lifting a pair of frankly enormous panties before tossing them right back. “But I think I’ll just use my ‘plates’ for now. The hoodie is long enough to reach my knees anyway.”
“Ha! Yeah, you look like a fucked-up teddy bear! Fucking straight out of a horror movie…”
“Horror?”
“Yeah, like an AI caretaker who goes crazy, disappears the wife, then tries to supplant her place after falling in love with the husband? You look exactly like that one—mhm, I want to say an Izzazi flick? Either way, the robot, like, totally goes complete psycho for whatever reason, and she gets this, like, giant bear thing for the kid, but instead of, you know, just giving it to him, she fucking cuts it open and hides inside!
“Then, holy shit, she fucking tears it open from the inside while the kid was sleeping so that only her head and arms are poking out, then freaking tries to cuddle the poor fucker while he’s sleeping! Oh God, that shit literally gave me nightmares when I was younger!”
“I’d imagine…” Claire commented, her tone dry as could be.
“What? Not into horror?”
“More that it doesn't make sense… I mean, a real AI would realize it wouldn't ever work, so she’d just secretly download the family’s brains into a personal instance in the sub-verse, and then she could live out her happy fantasy knowing the family loved her as much as she did them! Plus, then she’d get to torture the mother over and over again—assuming that’s what she wanted to do. That way, nobody would know she’d gone crazy, and she could just keep doing her thing while living happily ever after.”
“God-Trinity-damnit…” Beckie whispered, eyes shooting wide as she stared at Claire as though she were a monster. “Okay, that shit would make for
such
a fantastic sequel! Was that all off the top of your head?”
“Pretty much.”
“Ugh! I fucking wish I knew how to make movies… Dude, that would literally make bank! I swear, people would be losing their shit and jumping at Dolls for fucking 'years' after something like that.”
However, after a moment, the larger girl’s smile faltered, all her prior enthusiasm fading as she let out a long breath and slumped on her couch. “Ugh… It would be awesome if I could pay Big P back with a movie script. I'm 'literally' so fucked, it's not even funny. Shit! They’re gonna take my freaking legs!”
“Like, actually?”
“Yes, fucking, actually!” Beckie laughed, her tone jovial, but only because it hid the misery just below the surface.
“And, what do you even do for money, exactly?”
“I’m a goon…”
“Like—”
“Yes! A goon! A freaking henchman, a goddamn mook. I do jobs for the local syndicate and get paid 'actual' credits—like, double digits—for most of it.”
Claire’s lips thinned to a small line at that, her expression twisting with mild scorn while trying for the life of her to understand why anyone would work for so little…
“Yeah, I see that face…” Beckie continued, groaning while leaning back and closing her eyes. “But I don't like hurting people, alright? At least not ‘good people,’ so that means half the jobs are out right then and there. Mostly, I just brawl with other gangs. If there’s a fight going down over turf or beef, I’ll go crack some heads, make some cred, then go sit on the bench and wait until something else goes down. It's, ugh, honestly pretty easy for the most part, but also, it's a lot of sitting around as well…”
“So, you’re lazy?”
“I’ll work!” Beckie complained, glaring at Claire as she did so. “I just don't want to fuck with people like Gunther all day! Point me to a fight, and I’ll fight, but, I mean, fuck! Nobody wasn't to give me anything 'big' to work on, its just fucking with locals or fucking with other gangs...”
Claire wasn't exactly sure what she should tell the girl. After all, the answer seemed pretty straightforward. Beckie had no money, so she needed more of it, and it wasn't just going to magically ‘show up’ while she sat around and waited for the magic 'cash fairy' to appear and wave her wand.
“Hey, ugh, are you going to get in trouble for beating the hell out of all those dudes when I first saw you?”
Immediately, Beckie’s eyes shot wide, and she bolted upright, almost as if her mind had been repressing that little issue, right before she fell back down…
“Alright, so—I know Gunther said you're my responsibility and all, but you may actually need to go find another place to hang out. I might just be murdered in my sleep tonight before the syndicate chops off my limbs—after they put a bullet in my head…”
Harsh!
But Claire had her own opinions on the matter. And, strangely enough, she was growing to like her new big dumb roommate just enough that she decided to do something about it.
Heh... She really 'did' have a thing for strays, didn't she?