[story] aya (working title) #2

Only about a quarter of the first one, not that anyone cares. Commenting
encouraged. Peace and carrots.

*****

'Lost, party girl?'
Terrific; this just had to be her lucky night. Somehow she had
managed to find three out of a total... one, two, three thugs in the
whole of the city, at the last count. Were they merely clueless or
completely stupid?
'Do you have any idea what happens to muggers in this city?'
By their look, they were surprised she had recognized them for what
they were. One point in favour of clueless.
'You are a clever one, party girl. I can tell. I like clever
girls. But you are in the black hole, here. No police watching us.'
That settled it: Terminally stupid. Yes, this was the "Black
Hole", and yes, it was called like that, because they couldn't track
people's ID implants here, but no, that still left two good reasons
not to mug people.
'Look, I don't want trouble. Just let's forget this ever
happened, all right?'
Well, it was worth a shot. Ah, who was she trying to kid;
those guys lacked the brains for letting themselves being talked down.
She'd either have to give them what they wanted, run or make a stand.
Three thugs with knifes, against her, unarmed - it was clear who's
side the odds were on.
'I think you'll just give us everything you got, party girl.'
At that he started to snigger, as if he'd just made a
hilarious joke. The others joined in. Aya raised an eye brow. They had
to have taken some heavy drugs to find anything funny... about...
Their looks were quite unambiguous. What a bunch of perverts.
Not that she had ever considered giving them anything, but
this was just gross. Aya slightly shifted her position and tensed her
muscles; she was a lot faster than them.
'Come on, party gi...'
Aya lunged forwards. She jerking the man's knife hand forward,
painfully twisting it in the act, then planted her fist on his chest.
The rest of the sentence died on his lips, as the air was knocked from
his lungs. She treated the other two to a punch in the head and a kick
in the guts, respectively. Before they had even realized what had
happened, all three were already on the ground and wailing.
'I. Am. No. Party. Girl.' she growled at them, then, as a side
note, added:
'I have better things to do than going on a pub crawl.' She
collected their knifes from the ground and then scanned the bodies for
further ones. It was unlikely the men would capable to do anything
stupid soon, but why taking the risk? All she managed to produce,
however, were sounds of anguish whenever her hands touched a sore
spot.
Seriously, with such a low pain threshold they should have
stay at home, wrapped in cotton wool. There couldn't be more than a
couple of bruises, a few cracked rips, and maybe a slight concussion
in case of the one she'd hit in the head. Nothing life threatening;
not even any permanent damage to be expected.
In fact, she'd probably even done them a favour. Others might
not have felt that charitable, and with law enforcement off your back,
there was reason for restraint. You never knew who, or what, you'd run
across here - the first reason why mugging was a bad idea around those
parts.
The second reason had been watching the encounter from the
shadows, and Aya gave them a polite nod as she walked off. There were
about a dozen of them, armed mostly with clubs, but with the odd knife
in between. They weren't really keen on getting into a fight, she
knew, and thus were only too glad for her to handle this, but if she
hadn't brought those idiots down, they would have.
Allowing people to be harassed was bad for business; it
attracted the wrong kind of attention. Visitors would stay away,
hurting the legal dealings, and law would be forced to move in,
ruining the rest. This was their place and they'd make sure it stayed
that way.
A few minutes later Aya had reached her destination, a flight
of narrow stairs leading to an inconspicuous door, not different from
dozens of others she had passed. Old pictures showed flashy
advertising on street level and a huge luminescent arrow pointing at
the door, but the need of advertisement had gone long ago, and so had
the signs, once they had broken down for good. Word-of-mouth attracted
more clientele anyway, and added a fair deal to atmosphere.
She stepped through the door and into the ante chamber, a
small grey affair with doors at the both ends. The left wall sported a
breakthrough to the left, with the cloakroom counter fitted into it.
Aya pushed the hood of her sweater down and took off her glasses.
'Welcome back. Anything to check in?' the dark haired woman
behind the counter greeted her, in a business like tone, although her
eyes spoke a different language. Raia was a couple of years older than
her, Rain's adoptive daughter and, in truth, loved to chat. Oh well,
two could play the game.
Aya put her backpack on the counter, then pulled the
transportation cylinder out and placed it next it.
'Deposit. Rain.' she commented, pointing at the pack and the
cylinder, respectively. Then she pulled the knifes out, and, with an
as casual tone as she could manage, said:
'Get rid of these for me, will you?'
Raia's eyes widened. Got you.
'Tell me you didn't...'
Aya shook her head and gave her a bemused smile.
'Only a few kids playing mugger.'
'Phew. Don't do that to me ever again... Muggers? Do tell.'
'Later, I'm here on business.'
Aya gestured towards the cylinder. Raia nodded and then
stashed everything under the counter, and handed Aya a hooded, grey
cloak, the item the club had been named after in a fit of heightened
creativity. It smelled flowery.
'New conditioner?' she asked.
'Do you like it? Was a real bargain.'
'Smells nice.'
Raia looked pleased with herself.
'Yes, that's what I though. So, I'll see you later?'
'Always.'
Aya wrapped the cloak around her and entered the club proper.
Music emanated from the band in the back, drifting over the round
tables and mixing with the hushed conversations of the visitors, each
clad in an identical cloak. In combination with the dim light, it lent
the place a certain air of mystery, and people loved mystery. It was
one reason for the appeal of the club after anonymity.
The only one not to wear a cloak - or, as a matter of fact any
clothing at all - was Rain, the barkeeper, but he got away with it on
accounts of the greyish fur covering all his body and the fact that he
owned the place.
Aya took a seat at the bar. Instead of the traditional mirror
the back was occupied by a painting of the city skyline. It wasn't the
most exciting sight she could imagine, but it fitted the place. On the
more practical level it didn't reflect faces. After a few moments Rain
came over to.
'Peace and carrots.' he greeted her cheerfully, with what he
claimed to be the traditional phrase of his home world.
'Peace and carrots, Rain.' Aya replied, her voice lowered to a
point where it was just loud enough for his big, fuzzy ears to pick
up. No point in concealing your face, when everyone can hear you.
'So, the usual?'
Aya nodded. Rain disappeared a moment behind the counter. When
he came up again he had a big glass in his hand, filled with a
colourless liquid. He passed it to her and Aya took a swig. She almost
spew it right out again.
'Everything all right?' Rain asked.
So it hadn't escaped his attention. Who would have thought?
'That's water.' Aya complained.
'Beg your pardon?'
Rain reached below the counter and placed a bottle next to her
glass, gently tapping at label where it read 'Authentic Rilanehian
Spring Water'.
'Rain, that's water as in "water you can get from every tap".
The closest this', she pointed at the bottle, 'has ever come to a
Rilaneh is milliards of metres, if you catch my drift.'
'Oh. Are you definite?'
He rubbed `his head. Aya just nodded. It wasn't the first time
she had come across counterfeit bottles like these; if was far too
profitable not to be tried, and most people couldn't tell the
difference anyway. Someone ripping Rain off, on the other hand, was
something you didn't get very often. Sure, he didn't look very
threatening, not helped by the fact that he was only about half of her
size, but looks were irrelevant when you got his kind of connections.
Someone was going to pay for this, no doubt about that.
'Here, let me make it up.' he said, handing her glass with a
gleaming amber liquid inside. As she took it he added with an
enigmatic smile:
'From my special stock.'
Carefully, Aya sipped at it. Whoa. This had to be from a very
special stock indeed. Fruity flavours blended with earthy ones in a
perfect mix, creating a flavour that was simply incredible. There also
was a fair amount of alcohol involved.
'Good, isn't it?' Rain asked her with a pleased smile on his
face. He could read the answer in her face.
'Incredible.'
'So, anything else I can get you?'
'Well, one thing, maybe. Do you still offer anonymous net
access? There's some complaint I'd like to file.'
'About the water?'
Rain sounded confused.
'No, about a lift.'
--
emmel <the_emmel*you-know-what-that's-for*@gmx.net>
(Don't forget to remove the ** bit)

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