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Chapter 9 - Chapter 9 Retribution

  While they argued, other tribal folk recovered the bodies from the warehouse, heaping them in the chalk. A horse-drawn cart came by to collect them, already loaded with the bodies of two mercs who Andy had smoked outside Lackey's bar.

  The handsy militiaman squeezed his bicep again, forcing Andy to look him in the eye. "Where're the others?"

  "That's them. Just five," Andy said.

  He snarled. "You know what I mean. Who else did this? We'll find 'em, kill on sight."

  "What are you on about?"

  "There's no one else," Clara said. "Just the two of us."

  Andy grinned, repeating his sister's words, adding an old tune to it. "Yeah, just me. Five-nill, mate."

  The militiaman scowled, then his gaze drifted from Andy to the cart loaded with bodies being dragged from the courtyard. A dirty patch of red stained the chalk. He didn't say anything else after that. Andy zoned out as the arguing simmered down. In the end, the tribal folks in barbarian fancy dress conceded, and they all decided that Andy had done nothing wrong, and that his actions were self-defense. Sort of. Besides, there were no mercs left alive to vouch for the other side. Andy's wrists were untied and his weapons returned. Though their separation was brief, Andy felt good for having Julie's back in her holster at his hip.

  Clara bustled him off before anyone had a chance to break the peace. "Are you hurt?"

  "Nope."

  Behind them, the militiamen dressed in smart clothes followed as Andy let Clara lead him away from the warehouse.

  Clara sighed. "Was all that really necessary?"

  "Yeah, pretty much."

  Clara scoffed. "How do you think that's going to look to our employer?"

  "That we don't take shit."

  "I'd rather you consult with me next time," Clara said. "If you wanted revenge, we could have ambushed them outside the walls, robbed them back. Maybe gained some compensation for our efforts."

  "True."

  "But instead, our employer now thinks we're violent murderers."

  Andy remained quiet beneath the weight of her disapproval. He wasn't going to win this one, but he had an ace up his sleeve to cheer Clara up. "Here," he said, withdrawing the watch, wiping the blood off of it on his vest before handing it to her. "Still doesn't work though."

  She gasped. "Where did you find this?"

  "On them," Andy nodded towards the warehouse. "It's yours, isn't it?"

  "Yeah." Her voice was soft. She didn't put the trinket on, just clasped it in a fist over her heart. "Thanks."

  "It's alright," Andy said. "Like I said, people gotta know they can't steal from us."

  At the edges of the loading area, a perimeter of shacks hosted a small audience who had watched the standoff. Women sat in groups, pretending not to have noticed the commotion. Their children clung to the railings, pointing and watching with wide inquisitive eyes. Andy waved and the kids giggled. He shot them finger-guns and they returned fire. Behind them, their mothers scowled.

  "Where are we going?" Andy asked.

  "I've bought you the opportunity to recalibrate."

  Andy winced. "Lucky me."

  Clara led him through a cluster of shacks and inside a large building with a brick ground-floor. A young blonde kid in a waistcoat led them down a series of corridors with questionable decor, a ridiculous ensemble, like passing through a fever dream. At the end of a corridor, a heavy door led into a basement. Soft blue light illuminated the dingy, brick-walled room. There was no decor here, only the Augmentation Master Console.

  In the center of the room, the large glass cylinder reflected the cold light of a spotlight. The cylinder was contained within steel brackets, painted with black and yellow warning stripes. Andy stepped towards the glass. Each node was connected through a circuit board of tiny threads which spun a web over the glass, culminating at its zenith. It reminded Andy of veins beneath a membrane of skin. At the base, a platform sprouted thick black cables, which coiled like snakes, traveling to a master console at the back of the room.

  A shock of electricity ran through the threads like the rumble of lightning through a disturbed sky, glowing in the nodes. Behind him, one of the sing-along-crew booted up the master console. Andy shivered. He realized he was rubbing Julie's handle, and clenched his fists to stop. He hated recalibration and the nightmares that came with it.

  "Andy," Clara said behind him. "We're ready now."

  Andy took his shoes and socks off, undoing his belt.

  "What's that?" Clara pointed at his foot.

  "Nothing," Andy said, hiding his extra toe.

  "Is it a wound?"

  "It's a growth." Andy tried to keep his foot hidden as he undressed, placing his clothes on top of a wheeled workstation beside the chamber.

  "It's a little numb," Clara teased, her voice pitching high.

  "Don't make fun."

  "You've grown a little nubbin."

  "Leave my nub alone."

  "That's what happens if you don't recalibrate."

  Andy stopped at his boxers, glaring at her sidelong.

  "What?" she said.

  "I'm here, aren't I?" Andy blurted. "Relax."

  Clara chuckled. "Sorry." She cocked her head, staring fondly at his sixth toe. "I hope it doesn't fall off."

  "I bloody do," Andy said, placing Julie atop his pile of clothes and stepping inside the glass chamber. He turned to face his spectators. Outside, two technicians ran the console, while two other armed men guarded the door. Andy wasn't ashamed of his nudity, it didn't mean anything to him. His sister had seen him naked dozens of times before, either while he recalibrated or bathed in lakes while out on missions. To Andy, the human body was all just different shapes of flesh and bone.

  As the door of the chamber squeezed shut, a vacuum of silence smothered him. He could see Clara talking outside, but couldn't hear a word she said. Placing a hand on the glass, he felt the faint vibrations of conversation, and beyond that, the hum of a fuel generator powering the master console. Clara flicked her finger at him, and he took his hand off the glass, posing with his shoulders set and his hands at his side. The militiamen outside looked at him unashamed. Andy could tell by the crease in their suits that they were armed with 9mm semi-automatic pistols. With him naked, and Julie out of reach, they could gun him down in seconds, but they would never risk damaging the AMC chamber. It was likely the most expensive thing their little tribe owned.