Hot Neon - Segment 01.3

Of course, she's got me by the balls now. I could have convinced myself this was all fun and easy creds, earlier, but that wasn't true, and I knew it wasn't. Now, though, it's like I can taste blood on my tongue. My fingers tremble a bit as I grip the edge of the table, and I force myself to breathe deeply.

I'm already not the Pepper I used to be, the chem-runner with a big mouth and a little bit of street-kid moxie. No, now I'm something else, someone else.

Pepper, the criminal. Pepper, the killer. Pepper, the woman who has a murder and an arson to her name, like feathers in her cap.

That's hard to swallow, and I'm not sure how long I can keep it down.

I nod, and Rhino seems to get that I'm still processing. Her smile widens a notch. "You're not bad, for an upstart. Me? I kinda like having your scrawny ass along. You're useful, for one thing. Still got that youthful fire in you, that hunger. Don't let it go cold, Pepper. Because you never know when you're going to need to light a match."

***

It's late afternoon when I wake up, and I feel like shit. My head hurts, there's a dull ache behind both eyes, and my stomach feels like rot, like I'm already dead.

How much had I drank the night before? Probably way too much. Helps me escape a little, forget who I am, take those worries and thoughts running rampant and pin them down with a heavy weight, lock 'em inside the box marked 'not my problem.' The more I think about things, the harder it gets.

I'm in my bed, in my apartment, so that's one good sign, I guess. Nobody's snoozing next to me, bare-ass naked and sticky with dried cum, so I was probably too tipsy to get one into anyone the night before, assuming I tried. I don't really remember trying.

I open my eyes slowly, letting them adjust to the gloom of early evening, and try to shake off the thudding hangover as I push myself out of bed and check my comm.

Nothing from Rhino, which isn't surprising. She's a busy girl, always on the move, always doing business. She facilitates a new gig for me now and then, but I pick up on the occasional light bit of contract work to keep up with my increasingly costly habits. Easy shit, though.

Making collections on syndicate protection rackets, picking up payment on personal loans, getting cuts from area chem dealers so their runners can operate in our turf without being jumped, stuff like that.

Nothing violent lately. I'm trying to be a girl of finance. My business acumen is a little sharper than my penchant to kill people. Or maybe it's the opposite: I've gotten better at killing people since I started paying attention to the business end of crime.

I'm low level in Blank Card, but I'm in. We're like family now, all of us. Granted, it's a family full of the kind of people who make Sunset City hell for everyone else. But that's just fine. It's what makes this city livable. A little spicy. A little dangerous. Like a well-balanced meal.

I pull on a pair of jeans and a loose shirt, throw my hair into a messy bun, and walk out to the kitchen. In time, who I am isn't really going to bother me the way it does right now. I'll get over it soon enough, or find that who I am matters as much as who I was before. Either way, I'll be fine. I'm probably fine already, just kind of a mess.

Maybe I'm finding myself. Many a girl at nineteen has surely found herself, after years of living life straight and narrow. Maybe I'm losing myself instead, and finding another version of myself entirely.

I don't really know, but I do know this: I love a good drink, a cheap thrill, and another lovely lady to get body-to-body with. I'm willing to sacrifice my moral fiber for a few hours of pleasure, and sometimes, that's just what I need to get through a rough patch.

That's all this is, anyway. A rough patch. One that won't last forever. Right now, yes, it's a lot to come to grips with, just knowing that the old Pepper is dead and gone, and the new Pepper is a bit of a monster, but one with a generous credit account and a willingness to pay handsomely for her thrills.

Sure, if I have to kill a few people in order to keep that up... Well, I didn't ask to be born a saint, did I?

Most people in Sunset City, self included, didn't ask for this life at all; bought and sold by the corps, led around like marionettes on a string, pandered and advertised to at every turn. We're all just trying to get by, and maybe find a little meaning, a little truth, a little fun in all this madness.

It's raining tonight. The high rise gives me a solid view of skyline, of neon night, of billboards and signage below, all sharply illuminating the wet streets.

In here, it's dark, and through the hazy windowpane I catch the vaguest reflection of me, unsure whether it's the Pepper that was or the Pepper that is.

We lock eyes, she and I, and in that moment we share something. Past self, meet present self. This is how far you've come, kid. You should feel pretty fucking proud, and pretty fucking sick to your stomach.

I let out a sigh so thick it fogs the window, and she's gone. Our meeting adjourned, I turn away from the window and retreat into the dark of the apartment.

Some day, there will come a time when I'll see that girl in the mirror, and I just won't recognize her anymore. That's not today. Not yet, but one day.