How many drinks is too much for a fourteen-year-old?

  Conventional knowledge says that they shouldn’t drink at all, but shouldn’t is such a relative term, isn’t it? Well, it isn’t, but Alex treats it like it is. Not the smartest of choices, but life would be too boring without a little inebriation.

  Alex punches another hole into a can of Satan’s Spice and shotguns it like a seasoned pro. Sasha cheers her on with all the enthusiasm the alcohol in her blood can give her. Which isn’t much more than her usual, but it’s the thought that counts. Alex takes one last gulp in her speedrun to liver failure, and Sasha lets out a big whoop of congratulations. Alex holds up a hand, and Sasha looks on with eager anticipation. Alex lets loose a gigantic belch.

  “Wooooo! You go, girl! Up high,” Sasha holds up a hand.

  Alex smiles, throws aside her can, and smacks it with fervent enthusiasm. “This shit don’t got shit on me!”

  “How verbose,” Sasha snorts. “I can already tell how you did on your English test.”

  “Nono, we’re not talking about that shit while we’re enjoying beautiful…inebriation?” Alex slurs. “I think that’s the word.”

  “You got it, smart stuff! First try, fuck yeah!”

  Alex pumps both her arms to the ceiling basking in verbal victory. She’s the big bitch now! Queen Alex, all shall bow before her majesty! Sasha giggles and Alex ignores her with regal grace. It’s only proper for royalty to express a level of leniency.

  Sasha takes a sip of her own can, already having shotgunned five. “Damn, we should order something. You down for some pizza?”

  “Sure sure, meat lovers right? Gimme a sec.”

  “What! Fuck that, you’re not paying. We’re in my apartment, so I get payers rights!”

  “Payers' rights aren't a thing,” Alex snorts. “And I’m not debating this, either I buy or we go hungry.”

  Sasha deflates and looks at the floor. “C’mon Alex, don’t embarrass me like this.”

  “I ain’t embarrassing shit. We’ve been over this.”

  “Just this once?”

  “No.”

  “Fine,” Sasha says, all quiet and small. “But you know I hate taking advantage of you.”

  Alex rolls her eyes as she grabs a glass of water, gotta balance out the alcohol to help with tomorrow's inevitable hangover. “When Mimi grows up and can care for herself you can worry about paying me back. For now let's just have some fun and good food.”

  “You really are the best, you know that?” Sasha says with a soft smile.

  Alex matches it with one of her own, “you know it bestie. Now give me a moment, gotta interface.”

  Sasha nods and Alex connects to Elides sector’s locality, searching for one specific pizza joint. It’s not too much of a pain in the ass to navigate the clutter once you get used to it, but it still takes a bit of time. Eventually she finds a nearby Mama Mary’s and submits her order alongside the prerequisite credits.

  “Bingo bango donezo, shouldn’t take more than a half hour before the drone flies on over.”

  “Cool,” Sasha says. “Another round?”

  “Sure, sure. First though, now that I’ve gotten you nice and drunk. You’ve gotta tell me what that big contract of yours was. Curiosity is literally killing me.”

  Sasha scrunches her brow. “Bullshit, you’ll survive being ignorant.”

  “Do not forsake me dear bestie! I must know the deets on your glorious adventure!”

  “It wasn’t anything glorious,” Sasha shrugs. “But fine, I’ve drank enough to make a few mistakes I’ll regret.”

  “Yay!”

  Sasha chuckles. “Alright, cool your jets. Like I said it’s not that interesting, just a stake out with a few other mercs. Some people were fucking with The Pack, so one of their fixers put up a pretty sweet contract to deal with them.”

  “Oh~” Alex says. “And what’d they do to piss off The Lunar Pack?”

  “Harvesting, both kinds. Group of dumbfucks disappeared enough wolves to get noticed. That or they got someone important, I don’t know. They didn’t tell. Important part is we found them and they were…dealt with.”

  “That’s so cool, wish I could join you,” Alex sighs wistfully.

  Sasha snorts. “I thank whoever’s watching our dumbasses from up high that you can’t. It’s not as fun as you think.”

  “Did you literally just say you’re happy I’m a cripple?”

  Sasha blinks, stares at Alex, then her face morphs into horrified dread. “Oh god no! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it like that…I just don’t want you to put yourself in danger is all.”

  “It’s fine,” Alex chuckles. “I’m just fucking with you. I know you didn’t mean it like that.”

  “You gave me a fucking heart attack.”

  “That’s what the beer is for!”

  “That’s…bear doesn’t do that. What’re your biology scores again?”

  “That,” Alex says. “Is best left unspoken. I compensate with my chem and physics smarts.”

  “Well, it’s good to know you have something resembling a brain.”

  “That’s still up for debate.”

  Sasha snorts.

  Alex smiles.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  The moment is it’s own microcosm of perfection, and Alex is grateful for that. She hopes she remembers this tomorrow, despite the alcohol in her veins.

  -

  Feigned ignorance is overpowered.

  Sometimes there are questions you shouldn’t answer, so the best thing to do is to pretend you’re just as clueless as they are. Even add in a few bogus theories to really sell the confusion. It’s an artform really.

  The kind that’s evidently causing Maestro Ahmed to lose his fucking mind. Which is both hilarious and slightly disturbing. Alex has been his patient for as long as she can remember, and not once has she seen the man so animated. He’s more a ‘bored with this bullshit’ type of guy.

  Whatever might have broken his sanity so dramatically? Would anyone be surprised if Alex was the culprit? Probably not.

  “It makes no sense! The myocytes aren’t degrading, and somehow she’s managed to produce a ridiculous number of myoblasts. Much more than should be possible. This…this is a medical marvel! If we studied whatever it is your body is doing then we could make a tremendous breakthrough!”

  “That,” Gidou Rakim says in arabic. “Is not going to happen.”

  Maestro Ahmed turns to her Gidou, a look of genuine offence on his face. “What? This is a marvelous opportunity! This kind of miracle doesn’t grow on trees after all. Imagine how many this could help, or the advancements that could be made in bionics!”

  “You’re not turning my granddaughter into a lab rat,” Rakim growls. Tita Jania nods slowly in solidarity from beside him.

  Alex coughs into her hand. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind. It’d help people with my condition right? As long as I still get to have a life then it’s cool.”

  “Of course! All our procedures will be conducted with the utmost care and you’d only spend a few hours a week under study. If we can figure out what's changed and how to replicate it…there are so many possibilities.”

  Alex chuckles awkwardly at his exuberant enthusiasm. She’s not sure if her skill can be replicated with science, but it’s worth a shot.

  Tita Jania pulls out a revolver and bursts the man's head.

  Alex’s slight smile slowly morphs into a look of horror as she’s made a witness to her maestro’s body crumpling lifelessly to the floor. His face is set in an excited smile, slowly relaxing as muscles catch up with his cranial operation.

  “I’ll find the servers, you call the gang,” Tita Jania says as she walks through the door.

  Alex just gapes at her grandmother, unable to form together the syllables that would make a word. There’s a moment of silence as her Gidou’s eyes dilate in communication. “Evening Fareed, how are you?...I could be better…no I’ve just got a bit of a situation…yeah I’ll send the location, see you soon.”

  Gidou Rakim turns to face Alex with a look that is both exasperated and chilling in the cold it permeates. Alex lets out a small squeak at the crimson eyes pinning her soul.

  “I know you well enough to tell when you’re lying. You will tell me whatever it is you’ve done to your body,”

  “Gidou, I don-”

  “We’re not playing this game,” Rakim says with steel permeating his auto-tuned voice. “Something happened. You will tell me what. End of story.”

  -

  Loyalty’s a hell of a thing.

  It’s the most valuable currency of the gangs. To know how much a member is willing to sacrifice, and why, is a crucial quality in a leader. Sayyid isn’t exactly a puzzle, he loves his family. As long as they’re treated well he’s more than happy to go along with the gang's bullshit.

  Even if sometimes it feels idiotic

  Sayyid huffs and stomps on a fool's skull, bursting brain matter all over the concrete. He points both his LMGs at the crowd in front of him. There’s a lot, enough to take a decent chunk out of the parking lot. They’re all wearing yellow.

  “I’m sorry? Did I interrupt something? You’ll have to excuse my manners, I’m looking for Roque. Couldn’t be bothered to wait unfortunately,” Sayyid says, cranking up his mechanical voice box so that everyone is aware of his intention and presence.

  There’s a lot of guns pointed at him right now, but that’s fine. None of these idiots have a caliber that can pierce through his synth-skin. There’s a lot of whispered spanish. Probably about Demons and shit, he can practically smell the fear in the air. It’s delicious.

  Eventually a man in a suit walks forward. He’s got a bronzed complexion with slicked back black hair, his eyes are like that of a goats. “That would be me. Who are you and what do you want? The House Of The Living doesn’t take kindly to displays such as these.”

  “Too bad for them I don’t give a shit then,” Sayyid says. “Your lads and lasses have been a little too involved in our toddlers little war, this is a warning to stop.”

  “I don’t bend to threats. Nor will The House. Go back to your Road, Demon,” Roque waves him off and turns around, seemingly uncaring for the fact that an eight foot tall behemoth is pointing two very big guns at his back.

  This was a mistake.

  Now, Sayyid can’t kill the man. That’s not what the gang wants, but these other gangoons? They’re free pickings, though it might lead to some…complications.

  Eh, who gives a shit?

  He smiles. Points his guns a little to the side of the man, aims, and then pulls the fucking trigger. Instantly the world is bullets, gunsmoke, and car alarms as the startled fools start shooting blindly at him.

  There’s plenty of bullets that punch him, like annoying bees. A few even hit his head, none of this stops his massacre. People scream and cry with Sayyids laughter setting an ambiance of terror. He sweeps his guns to either side of him as more fall, it’s only been perhaps a second and already there’s so many dead!

  Good. He needs to send a message, and he’s an expert at letters of gratuitous violence so this is the one they get.

  Then his fun is interrupted as a blade cuts off the barrel of one of his babies. Sayyid blinks and turns but whoever was there is gone-

  A slash runs across his back. It doesn’t dig deep enough for blood to flow but it does dig. Sayyid frowns, a Segador? There shouldn’t be one of those here. Roque isn’t important enough.

  Sayyid switches focus, activating his Overdrive implant. The world doesn’t slow, but his neural activity skyrockets. He whips around and spots a woman with…a fucking katana? She’s not even wearing House colors, opting for a teal bodysuit under black cargo pants.

  The fuck is going on here?

  In the time it takes for him to think that, the woman has already dug another small slice into his body. Sayyid grunts and grabs the blade. Its edge oscillates at an insane rate, slowly cutting into his metal palm but that’s fine.

  He pulls and rips the katana out of the women's grasp, letting clatter on concrete as the remaining fools stop their shooting. There are two things she could do in this moment. There’s the smart thing, which is for her to back off.

  Then there’s the stupid thing. The woman is faster than him by a lot, but not so fast that he can’t catch her if she tries to make a pass for her katana.

  Sayyid grabs her by the throat and slams her onto the concrete. He brings his remaining LMG to her mask-covered face and growls.

  “The fuck is this? No gang uses teal, you a neutral merc?” Sayyid says.

  She just grunts and struggles against his grasp. Futile, his arms are a model from SadMine designed for strength and nothing else. He’s modded it a bit so it can store ammunition but it’s not an impressive amount.

  “You can talk and die quickly, or I can rip off those limbs and see what kind of upgrades you swing for.”

  “Fuck you, Demon,” she spits out in broken english.

  Then she brings up a concussion grenade. It doesn’t have a pin.

  Sayyid has exactly the time needed to widen his eyes before he’s sent flying off the woman and out of the parkade. He crashes into the other building before falling five floors and crashing into a garbage crate.

  Sayyid groans as he stares at the sky. It’s covered in grey clouds and snowing slightly. The fuck was that? There shouldn’t be a neutral merc alive that’s both that good and is stupid enough to get in the middle of gang shit.

  He’s got a good five minutes to contemplate this in his comfy garbage before he gets a call notification.

  “What do you want Baba? I’m in the middle of a contract,” Sayyid says in Arabic as he relaxes in the trash.

  “If that were true then you’d have hung up.”

  Sayyid snorts. “True enough, but seriously, what do you want?

  “It’s… about Alex, how soon will you be back home?”

  “‘Bout a week, why? Is it urgent?”

  “No…it’s…how do I explain this?” Rakim grumbles on the other end of the phone. “Okay well…firstly, your mother may have killed Maestro Ahmed.”

  “What?” Sayyid blinks.

  “Yeah, buckle up son. This shit gets a lot weirder.”