[Eridius]: And here is the coffee you ordered, miss...
The woman looked at him.
Then at the steaming cup.
Then back at him.
[Woods]: Name's Woods. Former Grade 6 of the Zwei Association.
A pause.
[Woods]: Though that's all in the past now.
She gestured vaguely toward herself.
[Woods]: These days, I'm just a Grade 8 Fixer who can't afford anything.
A beat.
[Woods]: Do you accept organs or prosthetics as payment?
She tapped her chest lightly.
[Woods]: I've still got an intact blood pump somewhere in here.
Eridius stared at her for several seconds.
Then sighed.
[Eridius]: How about this instead?
He slid the coffee closer.
[Eridius]: You tell me how you ended up looking like a failed surgery project, and the coffee's on the house.
For the first time, Woods smiled.
A tired smile.
The kind people developed after surviving experiences they really shouldn't have.
She reached into her coat and pulled out a cigar.
Lit it.
Took a single puff.
Then immediately doubled over and vomited an alarming amount of blood into a nearby bucket.
Silence.
She stared into the bucket.
The bucket stared back.
[Woods]: Right.
A pause.
[Woods]: Forgot I only have one lung left.
She casually wiped her mouth.
[Woods]: Anyway.
Another puff.
This time much more carefully.
[Woods]: I got hired to protect a VIP.
[Woods]: Unfortunately, the Index had other ideas.
Eridius immediately looked interested.
[Eridius]: That's usually a bad sign.
[Woods]: It gets worse.
She leaned back in her chair.
[Woods]: Apparently some Prescript decided the poor bastard needed to die.
A pause.
[Woods]: And have his organs rearranged into alphabetical order.
Silence.
[Eridius]: ...Alphabetical order?
[Woods]: Don't ask me. I stopped trying to understand Prescripts years ago.
She took another careful sip of coffee.
[Woods]: Anyway, I got in over my head.
Her remaining eye narrowed slightly.
[Woods]: Two Proxies cornered me.
She tapped the scar running down her face.
Then the empty sleeve where her arm used to be.
[Woods]: You can probably guess who won.
A pause.
Then she snorted.
[Woods]: Honestly, I might've had a chance if the team sent after me wasn't completely incompetent.
[Eridius]: What happened?
Woods took another sip.
[Woods]: The Prescript told them exactly which organs to remove.
A beat.
Then a grin spread across her face.
[Woods]: Problem was...
She pointed at her head.
[Woods]: The entire team was illiterate.
Silence.
Absolute silence.
[Eridius]: ...
[Woods]: ...
[Eridius]: The Index sent illiterate people to follow written orders?
[Woods]: Apparently.
A pause.
Then she shrugged.
[Woods]: The City isn't managed by intelligent people.
[Eridius]: That's the most believable thing I've heard all week.
A pause.
Woods lifted her coffee.
[Woods]: Does that cover the coffee now?
[Eridius]: Yeah. I'd say that's worth at least two cups.
She nodded in satisfaction and took another sip.
[Eridius]: So... how long were you a Fixer?
[Woods]: Ten years.
A pause.
[Woods]: Seven of those were with the Zwei Association.
Her remaining eye narrowed slightly.
[Woods]: Why are you asking, kid?
Instead of answering immediately, Eridius disappeared into the kitchen.
A minute later, he returned carrying a plate.
Steam rose from a pile of freshly cooked potatoes.
The smell alone made Woods freeze.
Her eye followed the plate with the focus of a starving predator.
Eridius placed it in front of her.
Silence.
Woods swallowed.
[Eridius]: Because I wanted to know if you'd be interested in joining this office.
The café went quiet.
Woods stared at him.
Then at the potatoes.
Then back at him.
[Eridius]: If you—
[Woods]: Deal.
Eridius blinked.
[Eridius]: ...What?
[Woods]: Deal.
She pointed at the potatoes.
[Woods]: Do you want the blood pump too?
A pause.
[Woods]: Maybe a kidney?
Another pause.
[Woods]: I think I still have one of those.
[Eridius]: That's not necessary.
[Woods]: A lung is off the table. I'm already running a buy-one-get-none special.
[Eridius]: Woods—
[Woods]: I'm serious.
She pointed at the steaming potatoes again.
Her voice carried the weight of a woman who had spent too long eating combat rations, recycled protein, and whatever passed for food in the Backstreets.
[Woods]: Do you have any idea how long it's been since I've seen actual potatoes?
[Eridius]: ...A while?
[Woods]: Three years.
Silence.
[Eridius]: That's horrifying.
[Woods]: That's the City.
Without another word, Woods grabbed a potato.
Took a bite.
Then froze.
Her eye widened slightly.
A long silence followed.
Then—
A single tear rolled down her cheek.
[Woods]: ...Leader.
[Eridius]: You haven't even joined yet.
[Woods]: I would die for this office.
[Eridius]: Please don't. We literally just met.
BANG!
The café door exploded inward.
Wood splintered across the floor.
Twenty men wearing ragged clothing rushed inside.
Weapons raised.
Shouting.
Screaming.
Looking exactly like the sort of people who made poor life choices professionally.
For a moment—
Silence.
The attackers froze.
Woods froze.
Eridius blinked.
Then casually reached beside the plate of potatoes.
Three forks.
[Woods]: ...Boss?
[Eridius]: Yeah?
[Woods]: Why are you holding forks?
[Eridius]: Because they're here.
He threw them.
THUNK.
THUNK.
THUNK.
Three attackers immediately dropped to the floor.
Headshots.
The café went silent.
One of the remaining Rats slowly looked down at his fallen companions.
Then back at Eridius.
[Rat]: ...Did he just kill Steve with cutlery?
[Eridius]: Skill issue.
The fight started.
A rusty blade appeared in Eridius's hand.
At the same time, Woods pushed herself to her feet.
Metal scraped.
A battered greatsword emerged from beside her chair.
The weapon was chipped.
Damaged.
Barely maintained.
And still looked capable of cutting a person in half.
The Rats suddenly looked much less confident.
Unfortunately for them—
It was too late.
[Five minutes later.]
The café was quiet again.
Bodies covered the floor.
Broken chairs littered the room.
One table had somehow ended up stuck in the ceiling.
Neither Eridius nor Woods looked particularly bothered.
Woods rested her greatsword against her shoulder.
[Woods]: Not bad, Boss.
[Eridius]: Thanks.
A pause.
Then he looked around.
At the destroyed furniture.
At the unconscious and deceased Rats.
At what used to be the front entrance.
[Eridius]: Why did they do that?
[Woods]: Boss, this is the Backstreets.
She gestured broadly.
[Woods]: Everything is trying to kill you.
[Eridius]: No, no.
He pointed toward the doorway.
Or rather, where the doorway used to be.
[Eridius]: I mean, why break the door?
A pause.
[Eridius]: They were already running toward us.
Another pause.
[Eridius]: The door opened inward.
Silence.
Woods stared.
Eridius stared.
The surviving Rat they had tied to a chair stared.
[Eridius]: They could have just opened it.
[Woods]: ...Huh.
The Rat in the chair slowly lowered his head.
[Rat]: In our defense—
A pause.
[Rat]: None of us thought of that.
Silence filled the café.
Then Woods sighed.
[Woods]: The City isn't managed by intelligent people.
[Eridius]: That's the second most believable thing I've heard this week.
His eyes drifted toward the ruined entrance.
A long pause.
Then—
[Eridius]: Alex is going to cry; he really loved that door. Also welcome to the team, Woods.
[Chapter end]