Crack in the Kill Code (AmpCore #2)

46 - How the High Life Lives

"So this is the big plan?" Piper looked herself up and down in the mirror dubiously. "A dinner?"

One part of life in the Heart she knew she'd never get to grips with was the pageantry. She wasn't above smartening herself up and looking good for the right occasion – or the right people – but the spiv-fashion sense was a little over the top for her taste. Right now, there didn't seem to be a whole lot of choice.

So Piper tugged and smoothed with little success at the tube dress that Arrow had suggested for her, trying to get used to walking with her knees so close together. It wasn't uncomfortable, so much as just... odd. That, coupled with the wedged heels of the seaglass coloured shoes, gave her a sense of awkward clumsiness.

The material of the dress smoothed itself along the contours of her body like it had a mind of its own, a deep lustrous evergreen inlaid with stamps of decorative code patterns that shimmered white when she walked. She twisted herself back and forth in front of the mirror, trying to fight down her self-consciousness.

The high collar caressed her throat with a band of silvery-grey that looked like it should have been more constricting that it actually was. Piper ran a finger around the hem, feeling the silky smoothness. It was too smooth. Too manufactured. It didn't feel right. Even at AmpCore, among all the little swaggering kings and queens, their attire had been functional; mostly uniform. This felt like gulping sugar syrup.

"I know it's not really your style," Arrow chuckled as they fastened a white-gold choker into place around their slim neck, "but better this than slinging combustives at each other."

"I'm not so sure about that."

"It's just a meal."

"No, it's a negotiation. I don't see why we couldn't just meet in a room like a bunch of normal people."

"That just isn't how Hadrian works, Piper," Arrow cast a glance over their shoulder at her, "and I think you know that. It's about intent. Reputations, appearances, they matter more than you want to admit."

Piper clicked her tongue in annoyance. She did know that, but that didn't stop it rubbing her the wrong way. Fussing with her hair, she eventually managed to wrestle it into the grasp of a faux-gold clamp, leaving it in a long, neat ponytail down her back. With a sigh, she turned from the mirror and cast her eyes at her companion.

They wore a long sleeved tunic of cobalt blue, trimmed with silver and shimmering with decorative code. The hem was slashed diagonally from the middle of their left thigh and down across their right knee, revealing a set of jet black leggings beneath, above a thick set of flat-soled laceless boots. Arrow ran a gentle finger around the high collar of the tunic and smoothed their short hair back into a neat arc down the back of their skull.

"I scrub up okay?" they chuckled, doing a gentle spin.

"Better than most," Piper replied, tugging at her dress again.

"Leave it alone." Arrow stepped forward, slapping Piper's hand away good-naturedly.

"Easy for you to say."

"I'm just trying to help. You know Vinder and his prick collective still call you Dock Rat when you're not around. That's how these fuckers see you, Piper, right or wrong, it doesn't really matter. If you want Karga to screw his bloody head on straight and take notice, then you've got to look the part."

She felt her implants bow and flex with anger that she had to swallow down. "I get it. Doesn't mean I have to like it."

"That's all I'm asking." Arrow gestured to the door with a flick of her thumb. "Are you ready?"