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.”
“Do I ever.” Kerr gave in and took a mouthful of absinthe. She winced.
Greasegun leaned on the counter. “Now, regale me with the tale of your fall from the graces of that goddess.” Their eyes begged for the sordid details.
“You’re a ghoul, yeah?”
“Yes, Seacake. That’s why I work here. Now spit it out. I don’t enjoy edging when it comes to guilty pleasures.”
Kerr sighed and took a much larger mouthful of alcohol. “She’s an Adlet.”
“A cross-gang romance!” Greasegun let out a delighted squeal. “But they’ve all but disappeared?”
“No-one knows where they went and they’re tight-lipped about it” Kerr still didn’t know exactly where, but it wasn’t here. “She did this to me years ago.” Kerr held up her prosthetic arm and flexed her fingers.
“I haven’t heard of that kink since my friend, Jess. Works at the dock. Obsessed with a witch.”
“The one that runs that vore porn channel. I know.”
“You have even more unique tastes than I thought.” Greasegun poured themselves a glass and tipped it toward Kerr before their eyes popped wide. “Wait, did you fuck her with that hand?”
“Don’t be crude,” Kerr warned.
“Oh my god, you did! Tell me more.”
Kerr relented. “It was around the same time she killed Piston.”
“Lusa?” Greasegun stood up straight. “That was Lusa in my bar? You’re fucking the woman who took your hand and killed your ex’s father.” Greasegun started pacing, nattering to themselves. “I mean, she’s hot, but wow. I don’t know if I could…”
“It’s complicated, okay?” Kerr snapped. She did not need judgement from this shitebag.
“Alright, calm your tits.” Greasegun glanced at her chest. “Such as they are.”
Kerr curled her lip. She was aware she was not particularly gifted in that department and Greasegun had no interest in her, but the remark still stung.
“So sensitive.” Greasegun muttered. “Sorry.” They rolled their eyes. “Tell me more. Why is she here?”
Kerr knew that was as much apology as she’d get from them. “Chalice lured her sister here and kidnapped her. She’s wearing Piston’s arm.”
“A sister? Who has sisters anymore? Or are we talking about friends who are like sisters?”
“Nope.” Kerr finished her absinthe. “An actual full-blood sister. Twins, even.” She set the tumbler on the counter.
“Wow.” Greasegun grabbed the bottle and refilled her glass. “The first twin in a hundred years, I bet.”
“I know, right?” Kerr scooped up the refilled glass. “Three moms too. They have tech I can’t even imagine,” Kerr lied.
“Three?” Greasegun downed the rest of their absinthe. “I need more alcohol for this.” They poured generously. “Why is she wearing Piston’s arm if their tech is so advanced?”
Kerr still didn’t have all the details on that, she only knew that they couldn’t.
She’d also overheard something about a lake and traders and kidnappings, but not enough to piece anything together.
“It’s one of their secrets.” She watched with amusement as Greasegun’s ears pricked up at the word secrets.
Their face fell when they realised they wouldn’t be getting them.
“Chalice thought we could use her to get Model 2’s memcore. Use it to keep us safe from the Styx and anyone else who might try to take a shot at us.”
“And did she?” Greasegun swirled their tumbler.
“Model 2 melted the memcore.” The alcohol was starting to hit Kerr’s bloodstream, but she still had enough wits not to spill everything. What would happen if word got out that Model 2 was loose? And had a human body, apparently.
A stupidly gorgeous human body that was after her girl.
Hers.
“You alright, there?” Greasegun’s voice snapped her out of her spiralling thoughts.
“Yeah.” Kerr shook her head, as if that would clear it. Her Opti flashed BAC warnings in case she couldn’t feel the alcohol in her system. “Are you s’posed to be drinking with your clients?” Kerr leaned heavily on the bar.
“Plauslible deniablility.” Greasegun refilled their glass, sloshing a bit too much on the bar top. “If you tell me an I’m drunk, no-one’s gonna b’live me.”
“K then. Model 2s a person. An she kissed Lusa. An I got jealous n’ ran.” Her forehead hurt concentrating. She wasn’t sure whether Greasegun was wobbling or her vision was. Probably both.
“You’re full of piss.” Greasegun passed Kerr the bottle.
“Yeah.” Kerr couldn’t think of anything else to add to that. It was true. She became aware of the bar filling up.
So did Greasegun. “C’mere to me.” They waved her over as if the bar wasn’t in the way. Kerr leaned forward. “You should go afer her. S’all gonna fall apart here soon anyway.” Greasegun placed a hand on her shoulder, though it felt like they were propping themselves up.
Kerr took the bottle of absinthe and slid off the stool. “Yeah. Thanks.”
Greasegun pulled a dehydrogenase RDC and stabbed themselves in the neck. “Back to work,” They said soberly. Customers lined up at the till. “Be there in a sec.”
They gazed vacantly into the distance, sending a message to who knows where before a large grin lit up their face. Kerr’s brain hadn’t cleared enough to realise that she was staring.
Greasegun turned to her. “Off you go, Seacake.”
“Yeah. See you ‘round.” Kerr stumbled toward the door, bumping into several people along the way.
Outside, the wind rattled the chain link. Kerr’s Thermabulle kicked in. “Kerr!” Someone was yelling her name.
She turned. “Alana?”
And then everything went dark.