The gate opened with a groan, and the world it revealed was a far cry from the lonely, deteriorating streets of Light’s fall.
At first glance, it reminded Cora more of one of the Farmer’s Markets from back home, albeit more permanent, and much more crowded.
Colorful, tented merchant stands jutted out from the building facades, narrowing the streets considerably. While that would have been barely noticeable outside the Bazaar’s walls, inside, it made things almost claustrophobic.
Cora had wondered where all the fucking people were in this city. Sure, they’d run into the occasional pedestrian, typically furtively cowering at the sight of them, often crossing the street once they got a good look at Hawk. There’d been movement in windows, silhouettes and fluttering curtains. But even compared to the dangerous parts of cities Cora had found herself in on earth, the place was deserted.
The Bazaar, however, pulsed with humanity. People flowed like lifeblood along the clogged arteries of its streets, surging in numbers and density up there with anything Cora had ever seen.
“What the fuck….” She breathed, overawed by the sudden change. She tugged on Hawk’s combat harness, ignoring the warning growl the woman gave in response. “Does the whole city, just like, migrate here during the day? This is insane!”
“Eh, more or less,” Hawk answered, obviously unimpressed by the crowd. “‘Safety’ in numbers, you know? Wouldn’ta stopped one of my acquisition teams from grabbin’ one or two on the way here or home, but it's a lot tougher when there’s folks around to complain about it.”
Cora had, instinctively, cuddled a little closer to Hawk in the crowd, both for a little subconscious comfort, and because even in the crush, people gave the giantess as large a berth as possible. Cora had been grateful for that, up until the big woman reminded her of one of the reasons people avoided her. She tried to put a little distance between them, but in the crowd, it wasn’t possible.
Plus, Hawk’s grip was iron.
Cora glanced up, to see Hawk looking down at her confusedly.
“Don’t go gettin’ separated now, Miss Mistress,” Hawk grinned then, with enough edge to tell Cora she’d worked out what had upset her. “I got you riiiiight where I want you.”
The adrenaline shock of fear, and the skipped heart beat of excitement, both felt so similar. Cora wasn’t certain she’d ever had so many instances in a single day when she couldn’t tell which was which.
She kept her eyes forward then, as Iain continued to lead. That meant she was looking when Kyra smirked back over her shoulder, obviously taking great enjoyment from Cora’s discomfort.
Once more, the insanity of the situation that Cora found herself in asserted itself. Everyone around her was dangerous. Everyone around her had good reason to want her dead. Fuck, she’d murdered three men in a shootout half an hour ago!
Her eyes began to unfocus as she scanned the crowd, myriad faces beginning to blur together. She was certain they were all staring at her. What had Iain said? The Chains wouldn’t have guns, but they might still jump them here? What did a Link look like? Were some of them kids? Cora saw small figures darting around in the crowd. They could get under her guard, stab her easy.
Hawk would probably laugh as she dropped her body, maybe taking the time to recover her duster before leaving her to be trampled into the dirt like trash. That arm on her shoulder felt heavy now, so heavy, instead of supportive. It was suffocating, she couldn’t fucking breathe she….
She caught herself, right before the point where she would’ve had to do it medically. Or rather, Cadey caught her. Cora would almost swear to god the bloodstained woman in a grungy tanktop had appeared in front of her to give her a sobering slap across the face.
‘Come the fuck on, Cora. Panic might be reasonable here, but it's a luxury. If this world is hard, you’ve gotta be harder.’
The voice was her own, which is why it was so odd that it wasn’t. Cora hadn’t ‘Done a voice’, hadn’t put on an accent for Cadey, but when she played her, her voice had changed, as she changed everything about herself for the role. That was the voice that was already fading inside her head.
Was that real…?
She shook herself. It hardly mattered, it had stopped her from spiralling regardless. She came back to herself as Iain broke through the tide of humanity to a roadside stand.
Cora had absolutely no clue as to how he’d known where he was going, but she hadn’t exactly been present for the last… she wasn’t sure how long.
Wherever they were, it didn’t look like a food and supply stand.
In fact, looking left and right, this was far less of a ‘stand’ than it’s neighbors. It was more just a barricaded canopy, existing more to create room outside of the door to the building within than to display goods and provide a place from which to shout those goods’ virtues.
Hanging from that canopy, and emblazoned on the door, were the words: JONAH FINKWAITE, TECHGRAFT in golden, flowing script. It was an oddly chintzy, old-timey way to advertise what had to be cyber-doc services, but to be frank, it did have a certain kind of charm.
“Doesn’t look much like a supply store, Iain,” Cora observed as the soldier pushed past the swinging gate set into the barrier.
“Aye, ‘taint at that, lass,” he answered. “Figgered might be best to up our funds with the tech we pulled from them Links earlier, afore we hit the depot.”
“Yeah? Supplies are that expensive?” Cora asked.
“Oh dear me no,” Iain laughed. A charming tinkle of bells sounded as he pushed open the door to the Techgraft’s office. “But, seein’ as ye’ve got the biggest gang in the area gunnin’ for yer head, thought a weeee bit more protection might be in order ‘swell. Can always pick up mercs to guard caravans at the depot, make a generous enough offer mayhap we get some of ‘em to stay on as security.”
Cora had no objection to that. While, after the gunfight, she was pretty damn confident in this team’s skills, five combatants did not a 24/7 security team make, especially for a place as large as Luxholme. They needed warm bodies and guns for them to hold.
Honestly though, I’d just as soon arm some of the ex-maids and make Iain train them up. Long term solution to a short term problem though.
“Good thinking, Iain, thanks,” Cora said, truly relieved he’d thought of it. So far, keeping Iain on as security chief seemed to be the only good decision dear brother had ever made.
“Thas’ the job,” Iain responded cheerily. The group waited in the lobby for a couple minutes, and Cora was just about to say something when an ear splitting shriek pierced the walls from the backrooms of the office.
“Jesus CHRIST!” Cora let out a shriek of her own in return, and was baffled as to why she seemed to be the only one. Kyra just kept cleaning dirt from under her fingernails with one of her knives, and Hawk didn’t even look up from the tech brochure she’d grabbed from a rack as soon as they walked in.
Huh. Legit surprised she can read.
Iain caught her eye, pointing up to a lit sign above the door to the back that Cora had missed during the conversation.
IN SURGERY
That was really all Cora needed to know, on that front.
Maybe half an hour later, during which Cora had begun to read the brochure alongside Hawk, and there was some dope tech available, the sign clicked off.
A man walked through the door, and apparently straight out of a 1920’s pharmacy. Starched white collar, gold monocle, pinstripe vest, all under a perfectly clean white apron. That cleanliness was the most surprising thing, given the screams, but the look itself certainly wasn’t what Cora expected.
“Ah!” The man exclaimed, voice creeping slightly into the uncanny valley, like it was coming through a high quality tannoy. “I thought I heard the bell while I was working! Jonah Finkwaite! What can I do for this fine collection of gentry?”
His voice had made Cora scan him again, more closely. Upon a second look, that monocle was set into his skin, and the faint reflection of displays danced under its surface as he looked over her crew. What Cora had initially taken to be faint blue veins over his skin revealed itself to be a network of miniscule circuitry, likely leading to his gloved hands, which clicked and whirred as he wiped them on his spotless apron.
“Ayo, how’re tricks, Jonah?” Iain said, turning from where he’d been chatting with Berg.
“Iain Boondock, as I live and breathe!” Jonah exclaimed, though Cora was increasingly less certain the man truly did either. He strode over, salesman’s smile wide and bright as he enthusiastically shook Iain’s hand. “How’s that Warsuite treating you, dear friend? No joint trouble?”
“Not a whit, Jonah, ye do fine work,” Iain replied with a smile of his own. “Ain’t here for maintenance today, that’s certain.”
“Then what?” Jonah asked, voice bright, like he was certain that this was going to be a profitable interaction regardless. “Upgrades for your friends? I’m sorry, Iain, I’d do more work on you but that Warsuite takes up a lot of room.”
“Oh nay, nay, nothin’ so excitin’,” Iain laughed, “though the way Linnea and Tina–”
“HAWK, damn it, old timer!”
“Aye, aye,” Iain laughed, waving her off,” way Linnea and Hawk have been glued to that brochure, mayhap they’ll be makin’ an appointment. No, we ran into some Links on the way here, and they were kind enough to part with some tech we thought we’d send your way, for a price.”
“Ahhhh, such a genial lot!” Jonah replied, vaguely mechanical voice not carrying a hint of irony. “What did they have for you?”
“Well…”
Iain went over an accounting of all the wetware they’d pulled off and out of the Links. It came to 7 Adrenobytes, the neural net Hawk had pulled out of one, which Jonah called a ‘Party Array’, and one lower grade version of Cora’s own Reactimax implant.
“What’s the Party Array do?” Cora asked, interrupting the two haggling on a price.
“Not much, without some accessory tech, very odd to find it alone. It allows for instant communication and positional/condition monitoring for a group. Fantastic for combat operations.”
“Didn’t even know about those,” Hawk said with a low whistle. Her face took on a dark cast as she visibly remembered something deeply unpleasant. “Woulda saved my fuckin’ ass when the Chains moved in.”
“So, no issue with us maybe taking these off some of your old customers?” Cora asked.
“Oh, none at all, even if that were the case!” Jonah reassured, “but I am quite certain it is not. I haven’t implanted a Party Array in over a hundred years!”
What are you? Cora asked internally, increasingly certain that despite immediate appearances, Jonah was no normal man.
TECHGRAFTS WERE PART OF THIS SEED’S INITIAL SETUP! WOULDA SHUT ‘EM DOWN WHEN THE PEOPLE HERE STARTED FUCKING UP SO BAD, BUT THEY’RE TOO AUTONOMOUS!
So he’s not human?
NOOOOT EXACTLY! CONSIDER HIM LIKE A SENTIENT VENDING MACHINE THAT BOTH CAN AND ENJOYS TO PERFORM SURGERY!
Damn, kind of day I’ve had, and that’s still one of the weirdest things.