-1-

The sun is blistering.

 It’s too hot for this.

When I pull into the driveway the pounding from the trunk finally stops for a second.

A beat later it starts again.

It’s too fucking hot for this.

I take a moment to myself before popping  the trunk with my Syndicate. The pretty blonde girl tied up inside has turned bright red , she starts screaming through the tape and fighting the binds on her wrists.  She bats her long lashed  pretty brown eyes at me for sympathy so I put a blindfold over them.

“Get up and walk.” 

The bitch responds by kicking me in the face with her bound ankles.

 I grab her bare feet (I got rid of the stilettos first) and roughly tie her ankles together. She’s small and in one motion I hoist her over my shoulders. When I adjust her on my shoulder my hand slips and I touch her upper thigh. This accidental invasion starts the screaming and kicking again as if anyone can hear her out here.

Her knee knocks me in the ear and she start scratching at my face.

She’ s a fighter.  

“Hey, I’m not going to hurt you, okay ?” I tell her in the most sincere voice I can muster. “I’m not going to hurt you, but you have to stop fighting me.”

This makes her pause and I can easily carry her to the front door.

Blackbird opens the front door before I can even knock.

I wasn’t going to hurt her.

But he was.

***

Barely half an hour later Blackbird has the feisty blonde’s   beating heart in some kind of fancy medical jar  that keeps it alive away from the body. There’s about a 10 minute window before cell death that he could bring her back with a mechanical heart or a different heart and cell modifiers.

 But he isn’t going to bring her back

And it’s all because she decided she wanted to get a red Mjollner tattoo on her back and fuck chrome dealers for kicks. To them--to us-- she was disposable.

I study the  beating organ over my coffee. It’s grotesque but also kind of cool. It’s pumping and oozing blood against the walls of it’s glass cell like it’s screaming to get out. I’m not the total idiot that Blackbird thinks I am, I know what the heart does, it pumps blood to the body. But that’s not what Blackbird wants to know, he wants me to tell him why it does that.

“The brain tells it to,” I finally say, taking another drink of coffee. The coffee is too hot, but I know if I ask if I can make it cooler he’ll stick it in The Parts Department--my name for the fridge where he keeps all the body parts.

I hadn’t slept in days.

“How ?,” he asks.

“How ?,” I repeat.

“How does the brain tell the heart to pump blood ?,” he explains, crossing his arms.

“It…I don’t know. Cells ?”

“Partly,” he says picking up the heart and putting it in The Parts Department. “It’s all in the coding in the cells of the brain and the heart. The very teeny tiny  parts, it’s like a code. You need to figure out how to mimic that code.”

“But you know how to do that, right ? Can’t you just tell me yours.”

“I don’t believe in cheating,” he says like this makes total sense. He’s supposed to be teaching me.

He takes my half full coffee cup and nonchalantly pours it in the lab sink. I know that is my sign to leave. I don’t even have to say goodbye to him. I just stalk out and start driving across the desert and back to the city.

I hate when that agoraphobic, socially inept but fucking brilliant bastard is difficult. He was supposed to be teaching me about bioscience, cyborg technology and how bio-androids work. It’d been a little over a year and all I could do was some minor cyborging, stitching and identification of body parts. The worst part of all this is I’m paying him for the honor.

No one in the Cartel knew I was an android. We’d been covering  my lessons to Blackbird up by telling the cartel I wanted to be a bodyhacker, a black market doctor that specializes in cosmetic surgery. 

I put the car back into Rayne’s garage and scan my wrist to deduct $300 from my account. I’ve been working for three days straight looking for that Mjollner girl and I’m exhausted. I want to sleep in my own bed.

Treasure Island is barely a 10 minute walk from the garage and I hope Minnow has some food in our apartment.  Rayne had decided we should have our own apartment when the baby came, so we moved down the hall from the Graces.

Grif is the lead guard at the entrance today and, because he is a jealous dick,  he makes me practically strip before I can go in. He even personally puts the safety on my weapon like I haven’t done it a million times myself.

When I open the apartment door Minnow is in as short silk robe that she barely bothered to tie. I smirk when I notice she isn’t wearing anything underneath.

“Come on, baby!” She coos to the five-month year old splayed on the carpet across from her. “Come to Mama!”

The baby stays where he is and regards her like he already knows she is a delusional bitch from his position on his stomach.

“Come on!,” she pleads with him, wiggling her fingernails. “Come to me.”

 I grab one of her tacky bracelets off the table. It’s made of glass bubbles in different colors. I kneel down and start shaking it, the glass pieces make a sound like wind chimes when they collide.

The baby turns his head to the sound and when he notices what I have in my hand he starts creeping and laughing towards it. He must realize he’s never going to reach me because after a few minutes he just starts crying. Minnow quickly scoops him up into her lap.

“So you can crawl!,” Minnow beams.

I open the fridge to see the only thing in it is bottle of nail polish, hair products, two baby bottles and a dozen syringes.

“I’m starving,” I tell her.

“Not my fucking problem,” She quips. “I’m sure Persephone at the Luxor can help you. Fuck knows you pay her enough.”

Oh, shit

We’re broken up.

 I’d forgotten.

 Because it happens so god damn often. 

Minnow hops up, opens a cabinet and takes out a bag of chocolate candy.  She takes a handful and goes back to the floor.

“Okay, now come to Mama. Come on, baby,” she screeches at the baby, holding out the candy for him.

“Fuck Minnow, shut the fuck up,” I yell

“Come on….come to Mama,”  she continues, ignoring me.

The apartment door I left open slams suddenly and I jump to see Sara Grace in the doorway dressed in a dark pantsuit and shades.

“Enough,” she growls at Minnow and goes over to pick up her son. “Or I’m never leaving him with you again. You’re going to confuse him.”

I’m kind of fascinated by how the baby seems to recognize his mother. He sees Minnow and I as much as he sees Sara but he  starts cooing excitedly and kicking his feet when Sara picks him up.

“I’m just saying it so he learns the word,” Minnow says innocently. “You don’t want him calling you that evil red headed cunt do you ?,”

Sara gives her the  that deathly look that makes me go cold and kisses the baby’s cheek.

“Any news since I’ve been gone ?,” she asks, rocking the baby.

“Well, I got two dresses for the party, but I think I need boots --”

“I’m serious,” Sara says

“The usual,” Minnow sighs. “Oh, Grif mentioned Rayne had a hack job offer from some Europeans. Could be a cool billion--”

There is a soft knock at the door and Sara’s eyes widen. The guards usually announce all guests through Minnow’s syndicate or the audio system.

 Sara moves to give the baby to Minnow and she heads for the back room, I pull the gun out of my back pocket and stand in front of her ready to fire.

“Ma, my key doesn’t work!,” Luce shouts through the door.

I stand down and Sara  opens the door to Luce. He stands at the entry way with his tie hanging loosely off his shirt and his suit case pulled behind him. He doesn’t even bother making eye contact with  me.

 He peers over to where Minnow is holding the baby and trying to tie her robe better.

“He got big,” Luce says softly, walking over to Minnow. “I want to hold him.”

“Not right now,” Sara responds tersely handing him the access key to their apartment. “I forgot we changed the locks last month. Luce, I have to go to Mojave--”

“Don’t I get to watch him ?,” Luce asks holding his finger in  grabbing distance of the baby.

“No--”

“He’s my brother. I never see him--”

“I said no,” she repeats. “Not now. Go back to the apartment and think about how you’ve wasted my time.”

The baby finally grabs Luce’s finger and puts it in his mouth. Luce takes the baby’s small fingers and pretends to put them in his mouth and that makes his baby brother giggle.

The baby had a way of charming just about everyone. I was impartial to him even though his entrance into this shitty world had pretty much scarred me for life.

 It happened in the Grace  apartment  and was a bloody, violent 12 hour night where Sara’s usual stoicism vanished. She’d spent half the night screaming and the other half crying. I’d spent half the night bringing her ice and the other half cleaning up amniotic fluid.

 “I totally called you getting kicked out of boarding school,” Minnow yells after Luce. I know she’s been waiting to give him a hard time since we heard the news.

“Suspended,” Sara scoffs. “Not expelled. Not yet.”

“It’s barely a suspension,” Luce adds. “I was coming back tomorrow anyway—"

“Did you really hit a kid ?,” Minnow asks, her eyebrows raised.

Luce mumbles something that sounds like a yes.

“Holy shit, what did he do?,” Minnow continues.

“She was a total bitch,” he snaps “She hit me first--”

“Luce. Go,” Sara orders and  turns back to the baby. “I’ll be right back, love.”

She kisses them both on the forehead before walking out.

***

-2-

Persephone’s long legs are draped across my lap at the bar. She’s wearing a pair of little black heels with silver studs covering the surface. She’s supposed to be working, but took a break after bringing me a BLT and four shots.

The shot glasses were the first thing to be emptied. I don’t even ask what is in them, but they take edge off, making the beginning of my day feel dreamlike.

“Did you kill someone ?,” she asks

“No,” I tell her keeping my eyes on the sandwich. I don’t feign interest in her, I don’t have to.

She calls me out.

“Whatever. You always get drunk first when you killed someone.”

“I don’t kill people,”  I remind her. “But, yeah someone died.”

I’ve watched a lot of people die. I’ve led a lot of people to their immediate or eventual deaths but I’ve never killed anyone.

“They’d kill us first,” she tells me, pushing away my empty plate and putting her whole body in my lap.  The tight  skirt  El makes the girls wear  makes it impossible for her to do anything more than just cross and uncross her ankles.

Her perfectly pink  lips press into my neck. She has this beautiful  blonde hair that goes down her back, it’s completely fake but I like the way it tickles at my neck.

Rayne didn’t tolerate dealing in sex, but the staff at the Luxor were pretty damn close. Most of them were kids a few years younger than me  who wanted a way into the cartel life and did whatever it took to get someone’s attention.

Somewhere in the last year I became a someone.

It was a matter of circumstance. I just happened to be in with Sara--who had suddenly become the most valuable person in the entire cartel.

Perse untangles herself from me long enough to pull up my check. When I bring up the ID on my wrist to scan, a hand grabs my wrist and jerks it away.

“This should be on the house, Perse,” Jeans says. My prodigal roommate walks up behind me with a  pale brunette girl holding on to his shoulder.

“Everything is on the house,” I remind him and he laughs, resting his head against the brunette’s and curling his fingers over her waist.

The Cartel is the house.

“It’s his birthday,” Jean tells Perse and she looks at me pointedly. Getting orders from  Jean  was something a girl like her took seriously.

“You should have said something,” Perse  says quickly and scans her own ID over my bill. “Happy birthday!”

“I don’t really celebrate it,” I decide.

Before I’d always had some kind of extravagant  gift to look forward too, but Before felt like ages ago.

Perse takes her lunch a few minutes later and with one look she lets me follow her into the break room. The only other person working is El and he never uses the break room.

When the door shuts I pick Perse up and press her into the black leather couch. She parts her legs slightly, it’s a small move but it turns me on.

“So, how old are you turning?,” she asks me. She reaches under her skirt and takes of her panties, keeping her other hands under my shirt. I pull the gun holster off my shoulders and let it fall to the ground.

“20,” I say, getting rid of the knife and case I keep bullets in so I can  unbuckle my pants.

“We’re the same age,” she tells me pulling her shirt off.

She’s wearing a sheer lacy bra.

I have a raging hard on now.

I reach up and take the Syndicate out of my ear, turn it off and stuff  it in the couch. Rumor has it Rayne is always listening in on them.

I push up her skirt and fumble against her at first and soon we find a rhythm that works, it’s mostly carnal and a lot of it is fake. She makes exaggerated noises and breathes my name like she probably sees in simcasts. She runs her fingers across the ink and scars on my arms and chest. 

Her pink nails running up and down  my body makes me finish faster than I plan.

 I’m still not used to this body. It’s 50 % modifications and 50%  the result of working jobs for Rayne that require walking across the desert hauling heavy bodies.

“Are you going to the party tomorrow?,” she asks when we’re getting dressed. Perse likes to put my guns back on and I let her. Her hand slips into my pants when she straps the concealed pistol to my waist.

“Yeah,” I say. She kneels in my lap to put the holster back on my shoulders.

“Can I go with ?,” she asks

I hesitate because I can honestly only deal with her for short bursts before I want to put my dick in her mouth. 

She’s so desperate to please. Everything I say is always “so fascinating” or “so interesting.” She expects me to be her boyfriend or something and make her part of the cartel. Which isn’t something I would wish on anyone.

“I thought you were already coming to the party,” I say

“Yeah, but if I go with El then I have to work. I’d be like mixing drinks or serving food.”

I kiss her on the cheek, and turn her face so our mouths press together. I’m not a kisser , I hate kissing like this but I’m doing it as a courtesy.

“I’ll…just… see you there,” I say standing up.

She crosses her arms and starts pouting.

“Please--,” she whines, but stops.

The rat-tat-tat-tat-tat of machine guns in the bar is quick and deafening. It’s followed immediately by shattering glass,  cries and the sounds of thousands of dollars’ worth of liquor wasted on the floor. Then more gunfire.

I turn to tell Perse to  gets down, but she is already down underneath the coffee table. I drop down beside her and watch the door.

Her bottom lip is shaking and she’s whimpering. She’s trying to tell me something, but I put my finger to my mouth to shush her.

I can hear muffled yelling through the door and then more gunshots before heavy footsteps start retreating. Perse slides out from the table and on her hands and knees heads for the back of the room.

There’s an emergency exit.  It could be a trap, they could be waiting for someone to use it.

I grab her wrist and pull her back.

“Stay here and shut the fuck up,” I say.

I slowly open the door and peek out. I watch about a dozen men and women getting into dark red Ferrari Sols with the swirling Mjollner symbol on the license plate.  They’re speeding off, I can’t do anything from where I am, but since I have the advantage I shoot a round at the cars as they go.

It wouldn’t stop them, but it’d fuck up their paint job.

Slamming the door, I’m surprised to see Perse actually listened to me. I take her hand and lead the way back to the door back to the bar. My boots lose purchase for a second on the wet floor.

The 12 foot bar shelf is completely decimated, half broken bottles of the bottom shelf liquor is all that’s left.

It’s almost comical seeing everyone  on their hands and knees with towels, sopping up the spilled liquor.

“Everyone okay ?,” I ask Jean

“Two people got caught in the arm, but no fatalities,” he smiles, leaning against a mop.” Those bastards don’t have the balls to kill us.”

El walks past me and pushes a plastic trash can and an ice scoop into my hands.

“Why don’t you pick up some fucking glass ?” El tells me  and keeps walking.

My body and soul are a collaboration of science and imagination. I can survive most gunshots, go days without food and have prolonged endurance. All that and it still doesn’t take more than two minutes for me to cut my finger on a piece of glass.  The spilled alcohol adds to the sting.

“Fuck,” I hiss, putting my finger in my mouth.

“Happy Birthday, brother” Jean laughs.

---

In some ways this chapter is pure Alan; can’t relate to women, hired killer, horrible student, finds himself in off the wall situations and can’t do anything right.

Sidenote: Did I trick any of you into thinking Alan and Minnow had a child ? Anyone ?