Shitty planet, shitty bar, shitty music, shitty life.
The place? The Gallows, some hole-in-the-wall dive bar. It was on the north side of one of the few godforsaken spaceports, tucked away in the deserts of the dusty shitstain called Esprit-09. Not the best crowd, not the best pay. But when was it ever? Isre still sang her fucking heart out, fried out synthbass rattling the crusty glasses, drums pounding in her head - make room, heartbeat, there's a new boss in town. By the time the last song of the set was done, she was drenched in sweat, her throat ached, and her eyes were a little wet. From the heat.
Or maybe the dust. Whatever excuse made more sense. Some patrons clapped, some called out. She didn't bother to listen, if they were catcalling, asking for more, or telling them to shut the fuck up. She just ducked out, moving to the bar to wet her throat with (something, anything) before the rest was done and their next set was due.
She levied herself into a stool - clambering up the footrest to reach the seat - and leaned over the bar, pushing her money across and taking the drink passed back.
"Thanks, guy."
From there, she was silent, drinking, plucking at a stray thread on her fishnets, drowning out the background noise.
And they treated him as such; the ones who knew him, anyway, all shifting stares and mile-wide berths. A lesser man would leverage a reputation like that—and, sometimes, so did Grim—but he was nice, y'know? He knew the struggle. Sympathised, as much as his coldly-programmed mind could allow. They were all of a kind, weren't they? That's why they were here, on Espirit-09, and not anywhere nicer. Grim could afford nicer, in theory. If it weren't for rent, weapons costs- oh, and if ENTR-Labs didn't keep coming out with limited-run figures. He could definitely afford a drink that didn't have metal-grease leaked onto it, but it wasn't about that, was it? It was about... I don't know, ambiance, or whatever they called it. Vibes.
And having enough money for limited-run ENTR-Labs figures.
Anyway, you couldn't get music like this at one of those fancy places, could you? And- honestly? Grim fucking hated the shit they played at those fancy places- my god, it was all so... ambient. Quiet. If Grim wanted quiet ambience, he'd just shut off his cooling system and listen to his fans run for a bit. But this, though? This loud... loudness? This, he could get behind- this, he could understand. He shouted something at the end of the performance, but it was lost in the crowd. Fuck, did they hear? The crowd here could be rough- he'd seen lesser acts get spat out more than the drinks, for fuck's sake, they had to know someone appreciated- ah, actually, it didn't seem too bad. People were clapping. Still, they left the stage awfully quickly. He'd have to catch up with them afterwards- give 'em the ol' Espirit-09 welcome, or whatever they said. Usually, that meant keying her car. He wasn't going to do that.
The first thing the singer saw of Grim would be the stares levied towards him. The snap of silence that fell over the bar as he approached, the raised eyebrow from the bartender in his direction which he responded to with a shrug (it was fun to keep 'em guessing!). A fake sigh (breathless, from built-in lack of breath), and a casual lean. He ordered a drink with another shrug (his order was memorably mundane). He cleared his throat (of nothing) and tapped her on the shoulder- with his left hand (uncharged).
"You with the band?" He asked, "You were good! I liked the, uh... the thing you did with your voice."
Isre didn't notice the oddly-dressed android approaching her, and consequently completely missed the odd stares everyone nearby was giving him. By the time she realized shit was a bit too quiet, a hand was already tapping her shoulder.
She flinched, ready to toss her drink in some assholes face. Touching in a place like this meant a guy who wanted a fuck or a guy who wanted to fight. Either way was sticking hands where they didn't belong, which warranted a few broken fingers. When she turned though -
"Uh."
Fan, then. Didn't rule out either of the previous options, but it made it a bit less predictable.
She narrowed her eyes.
You're with the band?
"Walked off the stage, didn't I?" she said cooly, tossing back the rest of her drink. What was she supposed to say to the voice bit? Thanks? Cool? "I, uh. Yeah. It's nothing special, just - singing, y'know. And a bit of screaming."
She paused.
"Isre. I'm Isre."
Yesterday, upon the stair, I met a man who wasn't there! He wasn't there again today, Oh how I wish he'd go away!
"Screaming! Yes, that's why it sounded so familiar!"
The barkeep raised an eyebrow, but Grim continued- apparently in earnest.
"We get a few bands that do that here, but none, like... strike the balance as well as you do."
His drink was ready- a tall glass of some clear, purple liquid. It looked like poison- like... cartoon poison. Grim seemed pleased.
"Well, Isre, you were-" A quick thumbs up, "-very cool!"
He didn't respond with his own name, hoping that his rushed awkwardness would hide that fact from his companion. The Gallows, whilst far safer than most places, offered little in the way of anonymity when it came to internal affairs- if he didn't mention his name, no doubt someone else would.
Isre glanced at the drink the guy ordered. Whatever it was, it didn't look edible. Not that she could judge - she didn't know what she was drinking herself, she just knew it was cheap and strong. Buying another glass - and downing half of it in the same amount of time - she raised her eyebrows at the stranger.
Was he being sarcastic, or just fucking weird?
Fuck, she wished she could tell sometimes. Her eyes focused on his face as if looking for some insincerity - as if she'd be able to recognize it if there was any.
"Just - ended up here, y'know? Places like these are where we get most of our gigs, and we've gotta get by somehow."
Another swig and the glass was already empty. Again.
"What about you? You seem pretty fucking chipper for this kinda shithole."
The reply came out fast, without a moment's consideration. It had its ups and downs, its goods and bads, but she wouldn't trade it for anything.
It scares them.
She liked that. Liked the mentality, liked the angle. A lot of people didn't like 'different,' it was true, and frankly, those weren't the sort of people she wanted to give any fuck for.
"So, uh. What do you do? Blue collar shit?"
It was the only thing this planet was known for, after all, though Isre kinda doubted it based on the clothes.
Yesterday, upon the stair, I met a man who wasn't there! He wasn't there again today, Oh how I wish he'd go away!
"I work in disposal." He smiled, "Rough work, but it pays well."
The barkeep rolled his eyes.
"Don't tell my clients, but I'm the sorta son of a bitch that enjoys that sort of thing. 's what I was built for, y'know."
He knocked a fist against his head, producing a quiet, hollow clang. Metallic, beneath the SynFlesh; a chassis a bit too high-spec for a place like Espirit, but it wasn't like it was the only thing about him that stuck out.
"Disposal, huh?" she downed her glass and raised her hand for another. "What, like, trash collection or something? Shitty job, but someone's gotta do it."
She grinned, completely missing the undertones Grim was giving off.
"Glad you like it. Hey -" she raised her new glass. "To liking shit."
She downed that one, too.
Yesterday, upon the stair, I met a man who wasn't there! He wasn't there again today, Oh how I wish he'd go away!
She was right, y'know. Someone had to do it- a lot of them had to do it. Grim was lucky he was able to convince himself it was what he wanted as well, but he still had to do it. Always... always had to do it. There was a request pending now, as well. Fuck- he really should check that before he got too carried away---
----[BEGIN REQUEST]
6.089 KEYS [PAID] CLIENT NAME: anonymous [KEYNET ID: 043573_B] TARGET NAME: evide sai TARGET INFORMATION: see image attached she has a cybernetic limb. human/colonial/whatever. armed i think. CLIENT PREFERENCES: none. CLIENT NOTES: prices are too high but i need this done. likely to be alone, i know she cant afford guards.
[END REQUEST]----
----Grim blinked. The request was brief, lacking most information, but the attached image told him everything he needed to know. He could search through databases on the way- it's not like he could refuse the work, was it? At least they didn't include a time limit this time, that meant he could at least enjoy himself for a while before heading out. He waved down the barkeep to ask for another drink, before turning back to Isre.
"Where you off to after this, hm?" He asked, "Another gig? Or, ah... a day job?"
"Can't keep a day job for the life of me. Nah, just another set here tonight, then off to do fuck-all."
Could've been a flirt, but honestly, she was getting a bit too wasted to care. If he was trying to get in her pants tonight that was his problem to sort out.
"Least, we might do another set. Jilt is gonna ask for half pay before, I think, and the last bar stiffed us, so don't have high hopes."
Yesterday, upon the stair, I met a man who wasn't there! He wasn't there again today, Oh how I wish he'd go away!
Grim wasn't sure at what point he had decided that Isre wasn't a cop, but he was pretty certain now that she wasn't- and, honestly, even if she was, she was too drunk to really pose a threat- and, honestly, even if she wasn't, she... well, you get the idea. He was confident. That's all that mattered.
"They ain't gonna stiff you here, that's for sure."
He raised his head to stare down the barkeep, who scowled in response.
"But, if you are worried about money, I, uh..." Grim lowered his voice, "A job just came in. Well, it's been in my inbox for a bit, but I just opened it now. Like I said, it's rough work, but the pay's good- if you'd like to come along, we can-"
"We can pay you now." The barkeep interrupted, "You want half now? I can give you half now- how many credits did you ask for again?"
At the mention of extra money, Isre perked up. It was an offer full of red flags. So many fucking red flags. Enough red flags that it was less covered in red flags and more just a big solid block of red.
Two problems, though.
One - Isre was shitfaced.
Two - she was colorblind.
"Talk to fucking Jilt, that's his problem," she snapped at the bartender, then grinned at Grim. "Can't say no to that. Fuck yeah, let's get rid of some garbage."
Yesterday, upon the stair, I met a man who wasn't there! He wasn't there again today, Oh how I wish he'd go away!
He didn't usually invite company. His work was secret, private- he knew his clients wouldn't appreciate some stranger tagging along, but they didn't specify that in their request, so Grim didn't have to care. It was nice to have someone to talk to. Someone who would survive a bit post-conversation.
"Job's on this planet, thank god." He said, "Lucky's out back, should have enough gas in her to take us there."
He stood up, tossing his keys in the air and catching them.
"I'll be waiting by the back door, if you need to finish up any business here first."
The barkeep watched as he left- silent, judging. This was a bad idea.
Oh - shit. She hadn't even considered that the job might be off-world. Was that like - normal? Interplanetary garbage collectors? Fuck, how big did those operations get?
Tossing a glance to her bandmates huddled in a booth across the bar, she paid the rest of her tab to the bartender and hurried out after the strange robot.
If they wondered where she was, they'd just have to cope.
Stepping out into the warm dry night, she approached the guy - almost calling his name, then absently remembering she didn't know one.
"Fuck, you never told me what your name was."
Yesterday, upon the stair, I met a man who wasn't there! He wasn't there again today, Oh how I wish he'd go away!