Blinking rhythmically in the corner of my eye was the date and time.

  //10-23-2099 - - 00:34//

  Two days had passed since we had delivered Watson Agreo to the Axiom Dynamics medical center. The dingy metal sink in front of me stank of fresh vomit and burnt drugs. The thick, sour taste of bile clung to the entire length of my tongue with a dull burn. The mirror rattled in its frame with each heavy punch of bass from the speakers thumping in the room outside. Cracks ran along its smooth surface, spider-webbing from one corner to the other. Peering back from the mirror, spit dripping from its maw, was my reflection.

  My yellow eyes sat steady above heavy bags, their dark hue melting into the blue markings that ran along the scales just below my eye, trailing back to a hard, scale-covered, plate of bone. It jutted from the back of my jaw and over where my skull met my neck, one on either side, notched with old bullet paths. I tucked my plumage back into its crest, where it exploded from behind more small bony plates that sprouted just behind my eyes. A secondary, slender, forked tongue bloomed from my mouth just after it closed with a soft pop.

  I snatched a paper towel from the dispenser mounted next to the mirror, wiping spit from my jaw. With the weight of a live grenade, I felt the Cheque-chip in my pocket shift as I stood fully. The memory of Axiom Dynamics doctors taking Watson away flickered to the front of my mind, the doctor taking my report in one hand, and holding out a stack of cheque-chips in the other. A gift for our 'discretion' in the matter of Watson. Ten thousand dollars, if the metadata was to be believed. It felt like it burned a hole through the thick nylon and canvas jacket I wore, edged in softly glowing blue lines along the inner trim of its high collar. The symbol of Charon's Gate shimmered on the lapel. Two Grim Reapers crossing their scythes over the portcullis of a fortress' gate.

  "Need a drink," I croaked, slowly dragging my toe claws across the tile towards the door. As soon as I pulled it open, the thumping music rattled my eyes in their sockets. The room was hot and humid, with other Saurids dancing about one another, tails swaying to the beat as they moved their bodies against one another. The scent of bone broth and cigarette smoke spiraled through the air from the long bar and kitchen that lined the wall to my right. The neon image of an exhausted Saurid built like an alligator lounged in the confines of a giant O in the wider sign, dubbing the bar the Gassed Gator.

  I settled back at my seat at the bar, landing heavily on the stool. The patron next to me shot a dirty look at my jacket and stood, taking their drink a few seats down. I ignored it; the sting barely even registered anymore, as I raised a hand to wave the bartender over. She trundled over swiftly, broad skull and jaws framing the brilliant and giant eyes. Her frame was just as broad, with fat and muscles hanging from her bones. A studded yellow coat of scales ran along her body, dark brown and black stripes banding the back of her head and the thick, stout tail that sprouted from behind her. "Vidr, hon, I told you, no more booze. Not even a last one for the road. Best you'll get is some soup and sandwiches to get you on your way." She scolded, hands on her hips.

  I groaned softly. "Fine." I sighed, head falling on the bartop with a soft thud. I ran my thumb over the cheque-chip in my pocket. I wished its contents had already been deposited so I could have visited a different, more expensive bar. But it had said it would take five days to cash. Within seconds, a hot bowl and plate were set on either side of my head. A thick soup, full of chunks of unidentifiable meat and vegetables, swirled in the bowl, with a dusting of calcium powder over the top for nutrition. Melting cheese and marinated chicken lined the inside of the sandwich that sat on the plate to my other side.

  Finally, the receipt of the night ticked across my vision. At least the food was on the house today. It took half an hour for me to force down the soup and sandwich. Eventually, I began the slow walk through the streets. The freezing autumn air rushed against my scales as soon as I stepped outside, zipping my jacket closed to ward it away. With a blink, the heated vest underneath bloomed heat against my chest and back. With a stuttering breath, I began the long walk to the subway station. In the distance, corporate Arcologies reached into the sky like the fingers of a giant, above even the megabuilding office towers and macro-tenement blocks. Dozens of floating ads, billboards, and bar signs waged war for any passerby's attention in AR, glittering like the stars.

  "Not long till you're home, Vidr. One more day off, then another three days on. Nothing special." I muttered to myself as I walked, tail twitching against the sidewalk, the feathers on its tip flexing as it did.

  My ears began to ring in the relative silence of the cars rushing past and couples arguing in the alleyways. I dug into the deep cargo pocket on one thigh and pulled out a set of headphones, unfolding them. Fitting them snugly on the back of my skull, music overpowered the tinnitus easily. At the first crosswalk, I eyed the angry red hand symbol across the street, ordering me to stay and wait as traffic tore past. With two kicks of my toes against the ground, I pulled out a small box from my pocket. Flipping the plastic container open, fat blunts were packed to one side, thin cigarettes to the other. With a tap against the top of my snout, I flicked a cigarette out, pulling it out by the filter with my lips.

  With a snap, the container shut. I stowed it carefully, pulling out the heavy metal flip lighter from next to it. With a click and two rasps of the igniter, a blue flame formed a small jet from it. The hot smoke warred in my mouth as its menthol additives coated my throat and tongue with violent cold and mint. I dragged the smoke deep before blowing it out my nose, the incandescent buzz at the back of my mind melting away. A soft beeping filled the air as the red hand changed to a white stick figure trotting along. I followed its lead, the asphalt digging into the edges of my toe claws sharply.

  After three such crosswalks, I found myself gently bouncing down the stairs of the Nampa Hub subway station on the balls of my feet alongside a handful of others. The turnstiles beeped as each of us passed. My cigarette had already burned halfway down its length. I tapped the ash into one of the many ashtrays that lined the center of the station's causeway. In the distance, echoing down the subway tunnel, came the shrill whine of the maglev's approach. Brilliant amber lights flashed in the pitch darkness as it began to glide into the station, brakes sparking as it rattled to a stop.

  With an all too bright and cheery chime, the doors slid open. I ambled onto an empty car, leaning against one of the poles in its center. The car remained empty as the doors slid shut and we accelerated away. A twenty-minute ride ground past in what felt like hours. Though at least one of my favorite songs began to play. I bounced my tail against the floor of the train car, head bobbing gently. I let my eyes close, joining the singer's familiar, soulful rasp. "" As I drew a breath to follow the verse, a dull ringing began to sound over the music. Flashing in my peripherals was a phone call, my supervisor's name hanging over the prompt like a downward-pointed sword.

  I paused the song in my ears with a sigh, answering easily."What's up, sir?"

  His voice was hushed, a slight waver betraying the calm tone of his words.

  I tilted my head softly. "Subway, green line. I'm headed back home right now." His heavy tone made me all too aware of the throbbing in my head and leaden limbs. "Drunk as hell."

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  I stood straighter against the pole I had leaned against in the car. No one had entered the car I was in. The grimy windows at either end of the car only betrayed the tiniest of movement.

  "That so? What's Corporate's call?" I asked, keeping my own tone steady, right hand trailing to hook a claw next to the buckle of my belt. With a shift of my hand, I felt the gridded texture of my pistol's grip dig into the heel of my palm. With a flick of my thumb claw, it caught twice, on the butts of each magazine seated next to the firearm.

  He asked. I could hear him moving, shoes tapping on the tile floor as he went.

  "Meridian Residential station—Eastern station," I replied. I almost slipped to the floor as my cyberarm fell limp, my cybernetics refusing to obey as my HUD glitched and flickered painfully in my eyes. "" I spat between my teeth.

  He sighed. His tone, which had become unreadable, was steady again. Any wavering had melted behind what I knew was a tight-lipped smile. The call ended with a screech of data itching at my inner ears.

  Moments later, my HUD rebooted, a long list of new distros and an operating system ticking by in a debug window, now resolving in warm oranges and dull ambers. My cyberarm re-interfaced with its socket with sharp, stabbing pains and a series of wet pops, before it came fully online again, the holo-skin rippling to match my scales once more. With a slow, deep breath, I willed my body to calm, my feathers settling back into their usual place. My heart rate hadn't changed once. "Nothing to worry about. Just make it to the western station." I sighed. The train began to grind to a halt, a synthetic voice chiming its arrival at Meridian Eastern Residential Station.

  The irrational shade in the back of my mind snarled for me to run as soon as the doors open. But with a roll of my eyes, I banished it back into its recess, even as two men wandered onto the train. One at each door on either side of the train. Both wore armored jackets. Not abnormal down in here in The Bench. But... they were all too clean. All too sober. The doors slid shut, and the train began to race towards the next station. Five minutes at most till it arrived.

  The two men hadn't looked at me once. Both were human, standing straight-backed next to poles for support. The echoing of the train vanished as it ascended a hill, rising over the roadways and sidewalks as it rocketed along in open air. I dared to check the blinking location light on the LCD screen above the window. Maybe thirty seconds in the air. Four minutes to the station, after that, all underground.

  As soon as the tunnel walls closed in on all sides again, the lights of the car flickered and wavered until finally shutting off. My organic hand dropped down, grasping and clearing the hem of my shirt of the pistol. As soon as my cybernetic hand grasped the pistol, the ammo counter flickered to life. I heard the slip of polymer and metal against nylon weave. Pistols drawing. Before my eyes adjusted to the dark, the yellows of my eyes vanishing as the pupils grew, my HUD managed to resolve flickering red boxes around each man's location.

  Before they finished drawing, the world came into view again. The scant light of the flickering lightrails that lined either side of the tunnel filtered in just enough. It was as though the sun had come to float in the train car, for how well I could see. The man to my left was faster, even if only by a margin.

  I kicked off the pole I had leaned against, diving backwards away from the man to my left. Even midair, my pistol was dead steady between my organic and cybernetic arms working in tandem. The lightly glowing front blade of my sights settled neatly between the rear pegs. With it settled comfortably on the man's chest, I pulled the trigger twice, the weapon rocking back into my hands hard with each thunderous report. The flare of the muzzles burned stars into my eyes, even as I angled the pistol down.

  The first two rounds staggered the man backwards as they caught him in his jacket. As soon as the sights lined up on the fly of his slacks, I let a third round loose. He shouted, body falling back like a puppet cut from its strings, collapsing to the ground. With a heavy thud and sharp pain in the back of my skull, I landed on the grated floor of the subway with a dull crack. White static flooded my eyes for a heart-stopping moment. With a feral snarl, I rolled to one side. The report of a pistol echoed loud as the remaining man fired. No pain bloomed from my body or throbbed in my chest.

  As my vision cleared, I saw him backing away from me. With another hissing snarl, I leapt to my feet. With two smooth trigger pulls, I glanced one round along his side, the second falling just too high, punching a deep dent in the side of the car behind him. A dim <--8/13--> flickered just below the bobbing reticle that my smart link tracked across the room. I leapt forward, closing the small gap. The bloom of a muzzle flash illuminated the car in an angry orange. A sharp pain stabbed deep just below my ribs. The wind flew out of me as though a troll had punched me.

  I grit my teeth, a deep hiss forcing its way between my fangs. With a downward strike, the bottom of my pistol struck the top of his, smashing the weapon from his hand. He threw a hook from my left, the glimmering lines of augmented muscles cording the limb as it flew towards my chin. My organic hand struck the side of his wrist, forcing it to zip past the end of my snout and up over his head. My left hand shot around behind my back, squeezing off two rounds into his exposed underarm as soon as the smartgun reticle landed where I wanted it, blasting the air from his lungs as the armored jacket absorbed the rounds.

  Blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth, his free hand striking me hard in the gut, doubling me over. My body retched, vomit splattering against the man’s chest. We teetered against one another, my pistol falling from my hand. My hand came to rest against his chest, as his arm came around, trying to pin my organic limb to my side. There was a pop and wet punch as the injector in my wrist fired. An empty glass ampule spat across the train floor as the man stared in disbelief, eyes already twitching. I spat bile in his face as I pushed myself up and back from him, landing heavily in the seat on the other side of the train, tail pinned painfully under one leg. "Fuck... you." I wheezed.

  He made to charge across the deck at me, but his limbs stuttered and hesitated to obey his commands. My HUD flickered, a report filtering across the room.

  //Subject suffering Total CNS shutdown//

  I watched more blood fall from his mouth. The train bucked on its maglev rail, knocking him backwards. Slowly, I pushed onto my feet again, staggering towards the dying man. One hand grasped a support pole tightly as I knelt. It took two tries for my hand to grasp my pistol again. I clicked the safety on, glancing the man over. His pistol was identical to mine. With a shake of my head, I rifled through his jacket, grabbing a fresh magazine from within. With a stuttering flick, I sent the half-full magazine in my pistol clattering to the ground. The fresh mag slipped in easily, and the pistol slotted back into my holster.

  My stomach throbbed, a hot oozing wetness slowly blooming from my torso. The wound burned hotter as I pushed up to stand fully again. Carefully, I lifted my jacket, heated vest, and shirt out of the way, revealing a half dozen splintered scales where I had been struck, blood flowing gently from them. I dropped them back against my body, checking the jacket. "No hole, good. Just blunt trauma." I took a deep, wavering breath. The synthetic voice announced the train's approach to Meridian Residential West over the low hum of the maglev. One minute to arrival.

  The train began to decelerate not long after. The doors slid open with a soft hiss. I stepped out into the station alone. The doors hissed shut behind me after a handful of seconds, the train zipping off down the line as though nothing had happened. The rushing air tussled the feathers of my head and tail. My throat still burned with bile. No hail of bullets or crash of grenades met me. "Here I was... expecting a party." I sighed.

  I lit a fresh cigarette and began to walk towards the stairs. The sharp bite of gun oil clung to my secondary tongue as it flitted from my maw. I leaned gently around the corner, tracing each step up towards the top. I stopped when I reached the six sets of combat boots near the top, pulling back and resting my back against the wall. "Motherless fuck."