REQUIEM - Low Life

2. Into the Red

The Atlas club scene raged on in the storm. A motorbike stopped outside the Red Club, one of the only clubs on the ground. The Reaper parked in an alleyway, sheltered from the rain, before pulling out Yves Telos' suspended head from a duffel bag. She used his head to get into Red's backdoor, through the facial recognition scan. The staff inside the club backed away from her, noticing the severed head and the mask and hood covering her face. She pushed past the dancers and patrons and made it to the VIP section, where she found Baron Bentley and his posse. He looked her up and down. Her outfit was raggedy, yet militant. He took note of the handgun holstered on her hip, the rifle across her back and what looked like a sheathed sword.

"So, you are a woman?" one of Baron's men remarked.

The Reaper said nothing in response. She placed Telos' head in the ice bucket on their table and unfroze him. Baron frowned as Telos' eyes twitched before they went dead. He looked up at the woman in front of him. "What do you want?"

Again, she offered no response. The Reaper turned and left.

It was still raining when Aisha Novak woke up the next morning. She dragged the prosthetic arm with her on her way to the bathroom and attached it only when she had sat on the toilet.

"Aisha!" her boyfriend called from the bedroom.

"Go away!" she replied.

"Where are you?"

"I'm in the bathroom."

"I have to go," said Marcus White. "My dad's summoned me to the penthouse in Onyx."

"Ooh, the penthouse in Onyx." Aisha scoffed. "I hate to see you go."

"Can't see me from the bathroom," Marcus argued.

"Well, then, get in here!" He entered the bathroom and crouched in front of Aisha. "Hey," she whispered.

"Hey." He wiped her braids clear of her face and smiled at her. "It smells like piss in here."

"You're not funny," she said. "Now go before father sends a SWAT team to my tavern to find his beloved son."

"I love you," said Marcus.

"I love you," said Aisha.

He nodded and stood up. "I'll see you."

After he left, Aisha flushed the toilet and took a shower. Her prosthetic groaned and slurred in complaint in the water. It was supposed to be water-resistant but had been worn out by years of use without maintenance. She called an old friend as soon as she got out of the shower.

"Long time," said Fleet after he answered the call.

"Tell me about it. Is the shop opened?" she asked.

Fleet's projection nodded. "What do you need?"

In less than an hour, Aisha put her detached arm on Fleet's counter. "Maintenance," she said.

"I think you mispronounced replacement," Fleet shot back as he walked out from behind the counter.

"Shut up." Aisha rolled her eyes before they hugged. Once they let go of each other, there was a thick tension in the air. They weren't friends like they used to be. They couldn't be those kids again. "How's the family?" she asked after the silence had lingered too long.

"Delilah's okay." Fleet shrugged. "Marsh's growing up fast, you wouldn't believe it." He held his wrist out and a holographic picture of his son was projected from his watch. "Look at him, he's three years old."

Aisha smiled and cooed. "He's got your nose."

Fleet scoffed and looked away. He lifted the prosthetic arm and scanned over it. "Give me two hours, I'll have this good as new."