Shell

“Well if it isn’t a famila’ face!” the baker greeted, pulling out a tray of fresh pastries. “Haven’t scoped yuh in a while, whach’uh been up to?”
The woman took a full breath of faux-dough in, overcompensatingly yeasty, and exhaled. “I have been craving the regular, if that tox’d brain of yours can still remember, Flake.”
“Eyy, eyy, haven’t yuh ‘eard? It look like I’ve been on the tox?” they said with a shining face and glistening teeth. “Nah, I’m de-tox’d yeah! Three months, four? However long yuh been away come to think it,” they pondered, cup in their hand, and waited for a reply. The woman bent over and tapped impatiently on a points-chip she had put onto the counter. “Righ’, righ’, no outside talk; one Better-Than-Real Flake Shake comin’ right up!”
The woman reached behind a display for a croissant and took a greedy bite then increased the funds on the chip with a bit of prodding. Flake looked over and sighed. The woman just smiled and ate the rest of the pastry whole. One croissant later, Flake came over, handed the woman the shake, and she was on her way – a smile on her face after a giant sip of replicated melon flavor.
•
“Ya sure love those shakes huh,” said the middle-aged man in a trench coat. His eyes returned to his left Ze-A32 arm which had been opened to expose the circuitry beneath the supple faux-skin. “Keep snackin’ and you’ll get fat ya know.”
The woman smacked his proto-hand that was holding the multi-tool, causing it to spark something inside the cybernetic.
“Ow! Son of a- what’dya even come back to the workshop for? Forget something?” he asks, banging the arm on the metal table which closed the arm up. His arm then extended to swipe at her shake and he took a sip, but it was empty.
“Back?” she asks. “I am here for my PADD, I left it here last night.”
She began digging through the middle locker of five others. It was an absolute clutter. She dug past sharp knives, several blank points-chips, various colorful hair ties and accessories, a few dusty makeup augmenters, a half-dozen expired pill bottles, a spare skirt, a container of brain fixers, a couple copies of the CyberTimes magazine, some eye fixers, and by the time she got to the replacement parts, she clicked her tongue and realized it wasn’t there.
She looked back to the man who was now seemingly getting ready to leave. “Tori. Have you seen my PADD anywhere? Did Missy look through my locker again?”
“Missy? She and Theta get back from their honeymoon tomorrah rememba?” He tightened his glove straps. “Speaking of, do ya really need your PADD right now. Ya have a hit ya need to complete by tomorrah.”
The woman slammed the locker shut. “Huh? How did you know that?”
“Uhh, ya told me as much earlier? I keep saying those fixers aren’t good for ya.”
“Whatever,” she responded with a pout, turning around. She looked at the mirror on her locker, closed her right eye, and looked closely into her left. It might be time to visit the Droid-Modder again, she thought
•
Purple liquid draped her body. Several cuts made bloody valleys all over her chest. She stumbled through the door and yelled for the modder.
“KLI–”, but she lost consciousness and tumbled to the floor before she could let out a single word.
When she woke, she found her hand being replaced by the modder. Her torso was as good as new and she was cleaned up, mostly.
“I’m charging you extra,” the modder says.
After collecting her thoughts, the woman spoke, “Yeah? For what, Klione’s underworld-famous customer service?”
“For always coming in without an appointment,” she said as forcefully she locked the hand in place.
“Oh please,” she said after a yelp, “you enjoy my company.”
“This is the second time today this–”
“Do not take your frustrations of another’s actions against me.”
“Don’t give me that crap – either you pay the rush fee this time or I’m taking that hand back,” Klione threatened, beginning to undo the lock.
“O-okay fine, fine.” Klione looked pleased.
•
The woman anxiously shook her leg, up and down. She was going over what had happened as she waited for the client. Her target was at the location; he was to be all alone. He was by no means an easy hit, but she was meant to get the drop on him, and she got parts tuned up at the modder even upgrading with a fancy new electric-edged hand blade. However, when she moved in, there was purple blood splattered everywhere – her target was dead.
Who got to him first, are they still alive? No, that was a lot of blood and that doesn’t matter. Did the client employ someone else? Unlikely, they are not the type. More importantly, could she still claim the points? What would– Suddenly, the door she had been waiting outside of had swung open. She immediately stood up.
“Oh! Shell-III, you’re heeere! Earlier than expected, I thought you said you’d be an hour late. No matter. Thank you for your hard work, can’t have been an easy task.”
“Yes, well, you see- wait, huh.”
“Yes! You did a teerrrrific job, I saw the photos. I’m surprised. I was sure there was plenty of blood for two, I was worried you’d be too injured to visit on the same day,” the client said while she dug in her purse for a points-chip.
Shell-III simply gave her a dumbfounded look. “W-well, yeah I stopped by a modder and uhm well–”
The client stopped her, holding out the points in her palm. “Now, now, we both know we’re not here for details. All that matters is this, no?”
Shell-III put her hand to the chip, transferring the points into her account. They exchanged pleasantries, said their goodbyes, and Shell-III started walking.
•
A perplexing look washed over her face. She checked her PADD that she had retrieved earlier in the day. It was deep into the night and the air was freezing, almost stinging, and she was already running late, but the confusion filtered that out, causing her to stop in her tracks. Her points were up. They should not be up, not yet. Was she paid in advance? No, there is no way the client would- huh? A figure stopped in front of her. Once she saw the figure’s face, her face, she dropped her PADD in a scare. Wordlessly, a blast resounded throughout the oppressing Underworld night sky. Then, for a moment, silence fell; then, deafening beating took its place. The PADD was shakily picked up, it felt heavy.
•
The shell walked, mind emptied save for a single thought: I am Shell-III