The Symptoms

Care For a Drink?

I whipped my gun out of its holster and walked silently away from the noise. I couldn't hear laughter anymore, which was never a good sign. I'm lucky my mask muffled my breathing, but I feared it wasn't enough. I stay silent, waiting to hear subtle breathing.

I feel hot air running down my neck.

"Shit!" I swivel around as the savage attempted to rush me. I dodge below him, pushing over buckets of paint in the process and sprint. I smash open the sliding glass doors and locate the nearest gas pump. My bag slips off my shoulders and thuds as it hits the ground.

I groan, but I don't have enough time to get it. He was right behind me. I hid behind the gas pump for coverage, the savage followed close behind, and then he stopped. I give it a quizzical look. It turned around and began going for my bag. I let out another groan.

"Hey!" I call to get its attention, and its attention swerves up to me, "Hands off my bag, asshole!" He looks up at me with an annoyed expression and begins running at me in a rage. I glanced back at him and aimed my gun.

Bang!

The savage immediately crumples to the ground, screeching in pain, then falls limp. I calmly walk over to him and start examining his body and belongings. He had nothing of worth to me... Well, nothing I could sell, at least. I reach over to my bag and sling it back over my shoulder, keeping an eye on the savage, just in case he wasn't actually dead. I sigh.

"I'm sorry, friend..." I pause for a second, "...rest in hole-y piece."

Turning around, I click on my hovers and start making my way back to the slums. The sky looked terrible, as per usual. Pale gray clouds always filled the sky, except right now, thunder could be heard in the distance.

Storms are a favorite in the slums. It was an excuse to stay inside bars and strip clubs instead of returning home to your wives and children... if you had any left. As for me, it was perfect bargaining weather. It's easy to go into pawn shops and spend your whole life away, but me? I'm a supplier. I give my goods to shops, but not without a price. Of course, that's just a little side gig to get a little extra cash.

My real job is as a supplier, but I carry out little "jobs" given by the shop owner. Sometimes I clean the bar that he owns next door or work as a waitress there. Other times I'm forced to go to the outskirts and find things for him, even if it means lying and stealing them right from underneath someone's nose. I almost died because of one of his little schemes one time; I had to stay in the hospital for three weeks...not a fun experience.

I'm the person at his right hand who does all the dirty work. But at the end of the day, he's like a father to me.

I pull into my shitty apartment, click off my hovers, and run back upstairs to finish my project. Popping off the lid to the rust remover, I dunk the metal half inside, but not enough for the fluid to flood the inside. Finally, after that's done, I dry it and finish it with polish. I stared at the magnificent piece of craftsmanship that was hanging on my finger from a chain. It was so beautiful that I almost wanted to keep it for myself, but I knew I couldn't do that.

After drying it, I put it carefully into my bag and walked out the door. It was pouring outside. Thunder bellowed and echoed through the streets, and everyone rushed inside. I don't mind the rain, but it was pretty annoying at this very moment because hovers can't be used in the rain, so I have to go half my average speed. I start speed-walking down the alleyway, almost jogging. Water splashed into my shoes and soaked my socks as I went. Grimacing and the squishing feeling between my toes, I walk faster.

I quickly opened the door to the shop, the little bell ringing as I did. The bearded man behind the desk looked up and examined me, face suddenly lighting up.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite customer! Whatcha got for me today Blair?" He exclaimed.

I pull the antique watch out of my bag, "I found this little beauty. Isn't she pretty? Should fetch a pretty high price, don't you think?" I ask, placing it on his counter.

He stands up and pulls out his glasses, and starts inspecting it, looking at it with extreme focus. A wide smile spreads across his face.

"This here is a rare find, especially in such good condition! Did ya fix her up yourself?" He inquired.

"Yes, sir,"

"That's my girl! I reckon I can give ya a whole 500 pieces for that!" he said, smiling.

"Thank you, Todd! How much do you think it'll go for?" I ask.

"Maybe a total of 1000 if I lie well enough," he laughed. I laugh with him.

He takes the watch and stows it away in one of his drawers, pulling out a cigar as a replacement. He lights it, letting a puff of fog escape from his lips, and sits back down, pulling up his holographic screen.

"Alright, you know the drill, scan that dainty little wrist of yours," he said, indicating to the pad to my right. I wave my wrist over top of it, a little beep coming from the chip in my wrist as I do. Todd's screen blinks for a couple seconds, then stops.

"500 has been transferred to you," he paused, "Dang girlie, what are ya saving up for? Ya got 38,000 pieces in your account," he looked up at me with a surprised look on his face.

"It's just in case something terrible happens, and I need a little money to help me up, you know how it is. Remember Shayne?" I remind him.

"Ah, I understand ya. Poor lad died on the streets...Good on ya for saving up. Better than what I could do!" He laughed. "Anything else you need?"

"Not that I know of. Maybe a drink or two until this storm clears up?" I ask.

He sighed, "I swear, it feels like yesterday you were just nine. Ha! And now you're ordering drinks at my bar! Are you even 20 yet?" he answered my question with a question, just like always.

"I'm 18, you know that. Nobody cares who drinks or doesn't drink down here because they don't bother to care," I say.

"That you're right, kid. I'll get you something fixed up, don't you worry," ensured Todd.