Against the Tide - A New Elysium Story [Complete]

18. Unfortunate Circumstances

She wore her signature black and white hair style and eye patch, but not her usual attire. Instead, she was clad from head to toe in a set of black combat armor. On her small stature, it looked like it should be heavy and click with every step. But as she moved through the crowd toward the bar, not even the sharpest ears would have picked up any sound, even if there hadn't been music blasting form the speakers and the chatter of the patrons.

Most people knew her and made way for her. One rather unfortunate man didn't.

"What's with the get-up, doll? Playing soldier for your patron?" he asked her, his tongue heavy from drinking too much.

She sat down at the bar and ignored him. Her face was still like a mask, and when Phil spotted her, he came over to talk.

"Amy! Haven't seen you in a while. How's business?"

"Rotten," she just said.

"That's a pity, dear. Here, have one on the house," Phil said and placed a shot glass with a dimly glowing liquid in front of her.

She reached for it and brought it up to her lips, but then she froze. For a split second, a flurry of conflicting emotions seemed to wash across her face, before it returned to its mask-like state, now with a hint of a frown. She put the glass down again with a sigh.

"Hey, doll," the drunken man next to her spoke again and inched toward her, "I asked ya somethin'."

"I noticed," she said.

"Then why didn'cha answer? Hm? Who's your patron? I bet I can match his price."

She placed an elbow on the bar and propped her head up on her hand, looking at the drunk man from the side with her remaining eye. He looked sordid, even for this place's standards. His clothes were dusty and his face and hair just as dirty. The smell of alcohol that clung to him couldn't drown out the stench of a body that hadn't seen water in days, which was somewhat surprising considering that on Six, it literally feel from the sky half of the time. It was impossible to go for more than two days without getting drenched, unless you spent all your time indoors.

From the looks of that man, perhaps he had indeed spent most of his recent time indoors, right here in this bar.

"I'm not in the mood for this, asshole," Amy Larsson said impassively. "Scram."

"Come on, doll," the man said, his lips curling up a wide grin that revealed a surprisingly healthy looking set of teeth. He ran his tongue along them before he continued to speak. "I made quite a fortune in my last deal... So let's just have a little fun. I'll even try to leave ya in one piece for your next customer!"

"Fitch, I'd shut up if I were you," Phil recommended, shaking his head softly at the disaster he knew was about to unfold if he continued.

"Why? I'm just tryin' to have some fun, old man!" Fitch said, raising his drunken, slurred voice. Next to him, Amy Larsson stared down at her still filled glass, gripping it tightly. Around them, several people within earshot had taken note of the man's attempt at what he probably thought was flirting, and watched with morbid curiosity.

"I ain't afraid of no little girl, old man," the drunken patron continued.

"Careful," Phil warned him, "That's not-"

"Even if she tries to look all scary with her cute little eye patch and play-pretend soldier outfit," he scoffed, eyeing her up and down.

"Don't call me cute," Amy Larsson said without looking up.

"What didya say, doll?" he asked and leaned closer to her.

"I said, don't call me cute," she growled in a low voice.