8.

Clouds had rolled over the City during our time underground, and the night was now pouring down. The air was heavy and humid, but taking a breath was much easier than it had been in the tunnels. My throat had shrunk to a pinhole from spending so much time down there, and I didn’t realise it until I left.

We entered Old Rusty and drove across the City. I entered my new details—my name: Alexa Gun, age: 18, sex: Female (all that stuff)—and, after choosing a woman’s voice as my Infrared’s AI, I told it to scan the metropolis for the Central Arena. 

The same situation as before happened: Silver listened to Nirvana’s instructions, and after twenty-five minutes, we made it to a road called Mitchell Street. It led into an open square wherein a gigantic stadium stood. The four roads around it intersected at an outer square of parking lines, luxuriant blue canopies, and commercial buildings backlit by yellow films. Wind whistled through, passing litter over the flagged walks and onto the asphalt beneath. Somewhere off to the right, I saw a red-and-white awning riveted to a wall. Below it, poking out from a small windowed workstation glowing with blue, was a black-and-gold android, and in front of it a queue of three people, all of whom wore outlandish clothing. Shit. There’s always a queue!

“There!” I pointed over Silver’s shoulder. 

But he had already seen it, and swerved to a stop. 

Rogue and I stepped out as we pulled up our hoods, rushing behind Silver to the sign-up. 

“What time is it?” shouted Rogue, her voice subdued by the squall. 

I checked my Infrared. “Eleven-forty-three!” 

“Shit,” she said.

We waited in line, listening to the android speak in its monotonous tone. It said things like *State your name and the names of your partners if applicable* and *Commencing scan*. Its metallic-mesh head would open and scan their faces. 

Eventually, it was our turn, but when I asked to sign up, the android responded with:

*Applications are closed. Come back next year.*

“Closed?” I said. “You can’t be closed. It’s only. . . .” I checked my Infrared: <<00:01>>. My shoulders sagged with defeat, then tensed with anger. “One minute late! Are you fucking kidding me?”

*Watch your language,* the android said. At least this one didn’t sound so irritatingly cheerful. *You’re late to the sign-up. Come back next year at the same time unless changed.*

“There won’t be a next year!” I shouted. And then, in a lower, more controlled tone: “Listen, I just got my hand removed, I need money, and I need you to—”

“Ashe,” said Silver.

“—fucking help me!”

*Watch your languag—*

“Fuck! Shit! Cock! Pussy!” I screamed. “Let me sign up, you insufferable asshole!”

Silver shouted, “It’s a robot! It doesn’t care, As—Alexa. It doesn’t care, Alexa.” He pulled me back. “This is probably for the best.”

“It’s not,” I replied, my voice tight with anger. “You don’t understand.”

“I do—”

“You don’t!”

“Relaaaaaaax, wouldja?” a deep, muffled voice said. 

I turned around and saw two people, one tall and one my height (5’5”) strut in from under the streetlight.

The tall one was wearing a black trench-coat, metal-plated pants, a drenched purple scarf which dripped with heavy globules, and an X-shaped, belt-bound chest harness underneath. Then I noticed the face; it was hidden behind a white two-filtered gas mask, and each breath he took was raspy and long. 

The short one was a long-haired black woman dressed in a denim jacket with the sleeves cut off to expose bulging, sixteen-inch biceps tattooed with dragons. So jacked, like someone who had a mutually positive relationship with needles. Despite that, her face was sharp and angular, feminine and gorgeous, with neon-green eyes to match. At the end of her forearm was an Infrared, and below it a dark-blue cybernetic hand.

It was them, the people from the animated billboards: Bicep and Mad Eye.

They approached the sign-up desk. 

“Android troubles?” said Mad Eye, voice staticky. 

“Move.” The woman shoved me aside, facing the android. 

Had this been in the Gloom, I would have spared no seconds beating the shit out of her. But, as Silver said, we couldn’t bring any attention to ourselves, especially with an android less than a foot away. 

*Applications are closed. Come back next year.*

“They’re closed,” I said.

“Shut up!” Bicep said, raising her cybernetic hand. “Android 316, scan me.”

A short beep, and then the android’s head opened. A blue wave shout out and began sweeping her body, starting with the head, then—

Her cybernetic hand transformed into something long and flat, like the end of a jackhammer. She punched it into Android 316’s scanning outlet. 

Android 316 shook as if struck with a bolt of electricity. The scanning light vanished. 

“Set it back two hours,” said Mad Eye. “And set the entrance fee to zero. I’m not payin’ a third time.”

Entrance fee? Set it back? What are they on about? I watched Bicep as if she was performing a magic trick that I’d never seen before, and which I couldn’t figure out the practicality behind. I was like a bewildered child. 

She rotated her handtool, tapped her Infrared, and opened a holo-display of what appeared to be Android 316’s worker settings. She navigated to <<Infiltrate>> at the top and tapped it.  

Android 316 glitched again, then hung limp until its shoulders were slumped. A control menu popped up on Bicep’s overlay, showing the robot’s UI: the temperature, the coding lines, the AI type (<<Clerk>>), along with a whole list of things. She swiped to the bottom and tapped <<Time>>, changed it to <<22:00>>, and hit <<Initiate>>. After that, she went to <<Payment Settings>> and altered what was a thirty-dollar fee to zero. Badger seemed to have forgotten to mention that part. She hit <<Initiate>> again. 

The tool drew back, transformed into her natural hand shape once again, and then Android 316 jerked to life.

If this wasn’t a Hacker’s Spindle, I didn’t know what was.

The android straightened its posture. *State your name and the names of your partners if applicable.*

“Bicep,” she said. “My partner’s name is—”

“Mad Eye,” he said, inspecting his nails. 

A crackle of static, and Android 316 glitched. *Entry fee is . . . zero dollars, zero cents.* Then, after a couple seconds, it said, *Commencing scan.* Its face opened and scanned both of them, then shut. *Would you like to go by any nicknames for the event? Your real name will still be on the board.*

“No,” said Mad Eye.

More static. *Application successful, Bicep and Mad Eye. A rules list will be sent to your Jet-EBC number, Bicep. Next please.*

They turned to face us.

“Happy now?” said Bicep. 

Yes, very happy.

“You three aren’t from around here.” Mad Eye kept checking out his nails, turning the hand back and forth. “Your clothes. You’re from the Dust, I take it?”

“Used to be.” Silver reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigar. “You smoke, Mad Eye?”

“Used to,” he said. “Now I’m more of a water-guy.”

I crossed my arms. “Thanks . . . for the help.”

Mad Eye laughed ruefully. “No problem. Which of you are participating. You, I take it?” He pointed at Silver. “Big man, big beard. Sensing a military background in you. You don’t get grey hair that young without some sort of military in your past.”

Silver laughed and lit his cigar, hunching under the awning. “No military background. And all three of us actually,” he said, blowing a wisp into the air.

Bicep laughed. “Those two girls?”

“I wouldn’t underestimate them if I were you,” he said.

“I’ll do what I damn well please.”

Mad Eye put a hand on her shoulder. “Sorry about my friend. She’s been training hard for this year’s Grand Fiesta.”

“What,” I began, “by sticking needles in her ass?”

Bicep growled, “You have some nerve—”

Mad Eye said, “It’s alright. Save that energy for Saturday. Say, black-haired girl, what’s your name?”

I thought for a second, then said, “What’s it to you?”

“Because only one team can win,” he said. “And we’ve won the last two. Haven’t you noticed? We’re the ones on the Grand Fiesta poster.”

“So? What’s that have to do with my name?”

“It has nothing to do with it,” he said. “I’m just curious, that’s all. Sorry if I’m . . . pressing too hard.”

Silver chuckled. “He wants to know our names so he can listen to the Voice. The Voice commentates people’s positions, what they’re doing, the kills they get, if they’re focusing on the objective, all that. They want to find us.”

“You’re smart,” said Mad Eye with another laugh. He wrenched his shoulders. “We make money off our sponsors at Jet Corp. We use their weapons, we win, and they pay us bigtime, even more than what’s normally given at the Grand Fiesta. Why? Well, because we make sure the equipment works, but a lot of the time it’s just us having amazing aim. It’s why we take part every year, and why we win every time. And it’s a good reason for you three to back off, unless death is something you want, that is.”

Was that true? Why would they be getting paid more?

“All aim, no brains, huh?” said Silver. “Figures Jet Corp would choose you two ugly faces for such an ugly sport.”

I snickered.

“Even smarts won’t save you out there, Mr Big Shot,” growled Bicep.

In a low yet tight voice, I said, “You tryna scare us or somethin’? You think we haven’t dealt with people like you before?”

Rogue said, “Seems like they’re scared of losin’ to us. Scared of losin’ to some outsiders.”

Bicep walked over to her. Way too close. “Who told you to speak, little girl?”

"Who the fuck do you think you're talking to?" said Rogue, balling her fists. 

I got in Bicep's face, folding my arms and looking at her sternly. “Back up from her, or else.”

“Or else what?”

"Or else I beat the steroids out of your system," I said. "Back. Up. Before I get really mad. I won't tell you again."

She chuckled, then stood away. "You have some serious balls. I wonder if you're as good a shot as you are a whiny bitch."

Silver sighed with frustration. “Leave this shit for the event and stop tryin’ to scare the competition. Seriously, get outta here. You applied, now beat it.”

She sneered, looking up at him. “Who’re you supposed to be?”

“Call me Jonas,” he said. “Now get lost. Both of you. We have a deadline to meet, and thanks for setting the time back.”

She snarled, “Jonas. I’ll remember that. And what about you?” She gave me a contemptuous look. “Since you want to act tough, tell us your name.”

I thought about it for a second, deciding whether I should or shouldn’t tell her, came real close to telling her, and then Rogue touched my shoulder.

“It’s not worth it,” she said. “Leave it be.”

Bicep laughed. “Yeah. Listen to your girlfriend, bitch.”

I balled my fist. “The fuck did you just call me?”

“Stop!” Silver glared at me, then at Mad Eye and Bicep. “I thought I told you two to get lost. I mean it, get outta here before you get hurt.”

Bicep laughed. “Keep that talk for the Grand Fiesta, old man.”

Mad Eye snapped his fingers. “Hey, enough, let’s leave ’em be. They’re not worth the time.”

Slowly, she pointed at me with her artificial hand. “You better watch yourself, bitch.”

I scoffed. “Why don’t you stick a needle in your ass and beat it, drag queen?”

She scoffed. "Whatever."

They left the sign-up desk, walked into the rain, and off towards the stadium. 

When they were more than halfway gone, Rogue grumbled, “Assholes. Think we could hurry up now? While the bot’s still active?” She looked at me while a deep wrinkle formed across her brow. She tucked a stray hair behind her ear. 

I took a moment to respond. “Oh yeah, sure.”

*Next please,* said the android, and Silver and I stepped up to the desk.

We went through the same process as Bicep and Mad Eye, only we didn’t have a Hacker’s Spindle. The android asked us the same questions.

We told it our names were Alexa, Jonas, and Crimson, and that we were working together.

*Entry fee is zero dollars, zero cents . . . commencing scan.* The head opened and the light shot out.

Despite my discomfort, I pulled my scarf down, revealing my face in all its glory. This better work.

After a couple seconds, the head closed, and the android spoke: *Would you like to go by any nicknames for the event? Your real name will still be on the board.*

I blinked, clearing away the aftereffect of the blue light, waving a dismissive hand. “No, no, Alexa, Jonas, and Crimson.”

Static. *Application successful, Alexa, Jonas, and Crimson. A rules list will be sent to your Jet-EBC number, Alexa. Next please.*

But there wasn’t a next. We were the last people in line. 

We headed towards Old Rusty.

“Thank God that’s over.” I sighed. “I’m so tired. It’s been a really long fucking day.”

“Yeah,” said Silver. “Let’s head to Withergate. I’ll see if I can get us some rooms.”

That was exactly what I needed right now. A room with a comfy bed. 

Together, we entered Old Rusty and made our way back to the Alleyway Elevator, listening to the rain drum on her roof.