chaos for chaos' sake

“Bull,” Tony said decisively a moment after hearing Ava’s statement and shaking his head as if to emphasise it. “Everyone needs a leader or it’ll fall to chaos.” He pointed a finger at Nox, “you also don’t turn a crippled entity into one of the most influential businesses in town without someone at the wheel. Whether people know it or not democracy or anything like that don’t get something like that done. ‘Specially in these parts. Most of those lackeys don’t have enough cyber cells to put two and two together let alone manage that feat.”

Tony was many things, smart, insightful and perceptive and where everyone might just buy that notion the crows sold he didn’t. Couldn’t. Because he’d seen how this world worked and that certainly wasn’t it. “Well, I’m happy to do business. Though my fees for services rendered don’t come cheap,” more a statement of fact than a brag “but depending I might be willing to come to some agreement.” The insight also made him aware for when he was being tested, whether it was by a friend or foe. 

His augs weren’t ever going to be a thing anyone would casually spot, beyond a couple of the light tattoos on his arms and neck. What lay beneath was something else entirely; pristine tuned military grade tech orchestrated like the finest clock you might ever come upon. His fingers flexed lightly around the bottle as he took another sip, “that’s always good to hear, work comes and goes for me.” But there was always someone that needed… removing. “So what else do you get up to in these parts?”

“Maybe we thrive off chaos. Someone in this shitty hell hole needs to take advantage of it.” But even with those words, she knew that Tony wouldn’t be able to see it as truth. He had a point, but it’s also why it had worked so well. If no one’s looking for a leader, if they don’t want to find one, it’s so easy to think that there isn’t one. That everything that’s happening is just chaos, productive chaos, but still only chaos. The only thing readable on her face was a neutral expression of mistrust and then a small shrug as she looked around to see if anyone was listening in. Even if they were, they would only get so much, as Tony himself was only getting so much as well. “You’ve always been too smart for your own good, Tony. Fine, there is someone backing the scenes, but they’re staying anonymous other than to a few of us. Safer that way. That being said, I might be able to get you in so you can make that connection, get some more jobs out of it. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised that the Crows aren’t scavenging for money as they used to in the past. You should come by the Next sometime, it’s really been upgraded.”

Finishing her glass, Nox raised it to get the attention of the barkeeper again for a refill though they were still helping a group a few seats down from them. “Other than stealing other people drops that they’re too slow to get? In these parts not much other than sleeping and getting into trouble. The Nest is technically Mid-City and I spend a lot of my time there trying to keep an all out brawl from happening in the club, despite the fact that I think it would be entirely fun.” But it would also be too many Badges sniffing around the place for any Crows liking and Nox wasn’t going to risk her business when that kind of fun could be found on the street. “Other times I’m just making sure that people are getting supplied the things that cause them bliss or the things that just take them out of the painful monotony of life. Never thought I’d fall into it, but it’s a good credit so I’m not complaining.”

Carrington gave a dark laugh. “Why waste effort on something if you’re not going to do it well? Whether that’s… fucking or otherwise.” Time was a commodity. As was effort. Carrington made a living out of selling both to the highest bidder. Yet he never sought to temper his clients, or boss them about. Carrington had his rules, of course - even if they were morally flexible - and his requirements for services rendered, payments, etc. And he always retained the right to back out of any contract at any time, because his life and his freedom wasn’t worth anything to anyone but himself. 

As for Nox, Carrington would never think to quell her. If anything, he enjoyed (for lack of a better word) her high-strung nature as far as it benefited his own. She wouldn’t balk or flinch if Carrington happened to loose control of his tightly-controlled temper and laid waste to some mouth-breather who pushed all the wrong buttons at the wrong time. He wasn’t stupid enough to let it happen in the Nest. Not unless there was no other choice. As Nox alluded, she was a vital commodity to Carrington’s well being. And therein lay his answer to her question. 

“It would be,” he murmured in agreement. “So maybe I’d just like to keep my dealer in the best shape possible, hm?” Because without Nox Carrington would have to resort to finding what he needed in some backalley, and that could never be trusted not to go very, very badly. It had nothing to do with altruism or interpersonal relationships, because Carrington avoided those like the proverbial plague. They weren’t worth the trouble. Or so he told himself. 

The swing of her leg caught Carrington’s eye at some point, and he found himself fixated on it as she spoke. Like a clock pendulum, ticking away the minutes and the hours until his high wore off and he was forced back out into the drudgery of the city. “I do know,” he said simply, blue eyes following the slow sway of her limbs.

He huffed at her own estimation of their chances. “Oh ye of little faith…” A long, slow exhale followed, and he was still for a moment other than his tongue flicking out to wet his lips. “You make yourself sound vicious without any help from me.” The mutilated flesh and bone scarecrows that were often found around the city, stripped of all their tech and hung as warnings to the Crows’ enemies were nothing new. But they were a damn good deterrent for most. Not many existed that would cross, much less oppose, the booster gang. 

Though it did put a thought in Carrington’s head. Which was perhaps not the best idea considering his current state. “Second-hand augments though… they can only work so well for so long. Eventually, unless you’ve got your own ripper in your pocket, they’ll be rejected… stop working… glitch out.” Such was the nature of bioware coded to someone’s DNA. It was a bitch to reprogram. Not impossible, simply difficult. Though Carrington figured Nox had the resources. Still. 

He shifted again, scratching idly at the needle marks on his hip. “Pity you haven’t come across something a bit more… upscale.” 

Something like a shipment of stolen militech… 

“Don’t worry, Bishop. I’ll keep myself in the best state possible and keep the Bliss flowing to you like always.” And to everyone else that relied on Nox to hook them up with whatever drug of choice it was that night. Without her, they’d have to find someone else. If they were smart they’d go with another Crow but even then, just like with anything else, Nox was prideful in her work. It’s what made it good enough to come back to... that and the addiction. “Can’t have one of my best customers disappointed, can I?”

Normally Nox wouldn’t be so quick to give herself losing odds in a fight, even a metaphorical one, but even she knew how truly prepared she was for a fight right now. “Of course I have little faith in us,” she muttered, closing her eyes as her fingers played with the metal zipper of her jacket. “We’re both high, maybe not out of our minds but definitely not in any state to fight. We’d take people down for sure, but even then...” Her train of thought drifted off and instead of trying to catch a hold of it she just brought her vape back up to her lips, taking another quick hit before reaching forward to set it on the table. She shrugged out of her leather jacket in the meantime, revealing just a plain, loose grey t-shirt underneath though it was decorated with patches of blood. Whether it was hers or someone else’s was hard to determine. “What can I say, it’s a talent of mine.”

She seemed to shrug off his comment easier than she had shrugged off her jacket. “We have our issues with it. But then again, I don’t think any Crow expects to last for a long time. Or even a good time. Scavengers, we just take what we can get, whether it be tech or life.” But even then, his words interested her. Nox had been looking to solve the problem of how much of a low tech the Crows were considered next to most of the other gangs and if she could find a good Ripperdoc who’d want to stay with the crew or even some new tech, she might feel like she’s doing something right in that department.

Her legs went to unhook from the arm of the chair and she sat up just a little only to lean forward, taking in his comment, knowing a man like Bishop didn’t just bring that stuff up off the cuff. “It is a pity. Unless someone might know how or where to come across something that’s a bit more upscale? And that someone might be willing to divulge certain information?” There was a hunger in her smile as there always was when it seemed like there was some fresh meat in from of her.

Carrington hummed in agreement. There was nothing quite like the feeling one got when those that deserved death found it. Especially if he was the one dealing it out. Though Carrington preferred his augmented blades over firearms - they were quick, silent, and efficient - he carried one anyway. It would be foolish not to. “Don’t trust anyone to do my work.” Not anymore. The last men he’d trusted that way were all dead and buried. While Carrington lived on. If one could call his current existence ‘living.’

Carrington didn’t open his eyes again, but adjusted his long legs so that he was laying longways on Nox’s couch. The movement was slow and deliberate, but without the stiffness of earlier. The music was a dull throb somewhere far away, and Carrington paid it no mind. “Because I’m not trying to fuck you,” was his answer to why he was different. As for the other, well… it was true. Not since he’d had his spinal cord stitched up all nice and tight at least. His legs wouldn’t have been the only thing he would have lost the use of if not for the bioware running beneath his skin and around his bones. He laughed slightly at the idea of thanking Savin for saving his sex life - such as it was - the next time they saw one another. 

He let his head roll to the side so he could look at her again through the narrow slits of his heavy eyelids. “But you don’t mix business and pleasure, do you?” Pity. Though the truth was, Carrington didn’t often mix the two either. Things could get messy quickly. No, it was better to keep the them separate as much as possible. Less headache in the end. 

A huff of a laugh - though the sound wasn’t much more than an exhale - followed what had likely been a rhetorical question. But Carrington answered it anyway. His words were slow and slightly slurred by now. “Unless they decided to shoot us from the doorway or gas us with ricine… I’d say chances of survival are… 60/40? Maybe 50/50… depending on… several different factors. But… if we survived, you… would be looking for new security guards after you gutted the old ones… and put their heads on a pike.”  

“You have a point. Though I don’t know if you could really call what they were doing really trying and I’m almost certain some of those men just wanted me to relax so that they would be able to kill me.” Too bad for them, Nox didn’t trust anyone enough to take orders, even ones that might be good for herself. Besides, Nox’s restlessness and recklessness had better uses than just to be quelled. But something about his answer sparked a curiosity in her. “But if you aren’t trying to fuck me, why are you trying to get me to relax. It can’t be to kill me, that’d be a terrible mistake. On your part.”

The warmth that was promised with Moongas had finally settled in, as well as the light and pleasant feeling. It didn’t get rid of the soreness through her body but it did make it easier to move, like nothing was wrong in the first place. Her hands went to clasp behind her neck as Nox sat up straighter, stretching herself out and feeling certain parts of her back pop back into place. It took effort not to let herself sink back into the chair afterwards, still keeping a leg hooked over the arm, swinging lightly.

The truth was is that pleasure in this form was still a beast that Nox was testing her limits with. She’d seen enough people get sucked into the haze that Bliss and it’s companions could offer and hadn’t seen them pulled themselves out of it. All she did though was shrug, a mock look of coyness crossing her features. “I’m a professional. I never mix business and pleasure and even if I did, I wouldn’t tell anyone about it. I have a reputation to uphold, y’know?”

As Bishop’s words began to slur, Nox began to wonder if the man was going to fall asleep on her couch and thus, if she was going to have a place to sleep herself. Not that she couldn’t just kick him off of it when the time came and kick him out of her club to fend for himself. But it hadn’t gotten to that point yet, he still had a couple of hours, unless Nox changed her mind. “With the way you’re looking I’d give us 40/60 chances.” Another chuckle escaped her at that, a low rumble from the pit of her chest. “You make me sound so vicious. I wouldn’t bother with pikes. I’d rip off all their augments, first, and make sure they end up on someone who can actually do their jobs. Then they’d end up where all the people who cross the Crows end up.” Strewn across the lower city, mutilated, showcased, a warning sign to any crow to not slack with their job and a warning sign to any outsider that when you dealt with the Bronze Crows, you were dealing with rabid monsters.

“That could be arranged…” Carrington said, his own voice barely more than a murmur, but edged with something that might have been humor. Though he wasn’t joking at all. For the right price, Carrington could and would assure that Nox stayed at the top of the pecking order in her circles. It was what he did, after all. 

For the moment, he was still in that first euphoric stage of sinking into a place that didn’t hurt. Or didn’t hurt as much. There was the dulling of the razor’s edge of pain, then the relief that came behind it, the relaxing of the tension in his muscles, and then the feeling that everything would perhaps be alright if he could just keep this feeling going. It was impossible, of course, without the Bliss coursing through his veins, but that was one of the upsides to the drug. It made him not care. At least for a little while. 

Which explained the low roll of laughter that rose up as she eventually answered him. Carrington licked his lips before lifting his head just enough to look at her again. His eyes drifted from her face to the smoke rings slowly expanding above her, then back down as she gestured to herself. He lingered this time, much as she had when she’d looked at him before, but where Nox gaze had been sharp and intense, Carrington’s was lazy and appreciative. “You look like one who should,” he said slowly. What he meant by that, god only knew. But he didn’t elaborate. “And soft isn’t a problem I’ve never had, darling.” His head fell back and he closed his eyes again. 

The sound of her laughter was a pleasant addition. It sounded warm, like… aged honey, dark and viscous and almost bitterly sweet. Carrington laughed again, unmoving other than the quirk of his lips. “Do I? Must mean you’re not trying hard enough then.”

“Oh, I’m sure it could Bishop, but what’s the fun in having someone do your dirty work for you? Half the pleasure is being able to watch them bleed our and know that you’re the person how pulled the trigger... or cut their throats.” A vicious grin appeared on her lips accompanied by the absentminded flexing of fingers. Sure, she could see the use of a mercenary and if she did, she knew who to get a hold. But Nox was a strong believer of if you wanted something done right, you did it yourself. And why let someone have all the fun?

Her concentration was on her smoke rings, the way they drifted through the air and the way the neon lights by the door were muffled behind the small puffs of haze. The sound was already a muffled din, distorted slightly as the drug seeped its way into her system. “A lot of men have said that to me. If I listened to any of them, I wouldn’t be where I am now. Why should you be any different?” This time a smirk played at the edges of her mouth as she looked over at him, rolling her eyes slightly at his remark. “Yes, I’ve sure you’ve never had that problem before.”

Nox couldn’t help her laughter, it was always the effect that Moongas had on her. Not that she didn’t already laugh enough already, but those were typically manic, somewhere between a chuckle and a cackle because someone had done something idiotic that was going to lead them to their pain and/or death. These were different, softer and deeper. “Or maybe I’m trying harder than you? If I wanted to, I could be as high as a starscraper. I have enough stash here that I could keep myself on the brink of ecstasy for weeks. But I have a job to do, and for now, that’s keeping you safe, Bishop. What would happen if someone was able to get past all my security measures and get into this back room?”

Not that it would happen, but still. Nox was always prepared for a fight.

Carrington didn’t expect any sort of reaction from Nox, least of all compassion or sympathy. He didn’t want it. What he did want was exactly what she gave him in that moment: absolutely nothing. But he could feel her eyes on him regardless. He ignored the sensation, focusing instead on getting himself back to right. Or as much as he could manage presently. 

He told himself that it was the relative safety of his current location, along with the traitorous reactions of his body to the ever-increasing bouts of pain that pushed him to request a longer stay this time. In truth, Carrington could’ve taken his package and forced himself to make the slow journey back to his flat. But what if something happened between here and there? What if another flare put him on his knees? There was always someone watching, waiting for the right moment to take advantage of a situation. 

So Carrington would take the devil he knew, over the chance of meeting a stranger. His expression remained neutral as Nox answered his request. He was only slightly surprised when she didn’t charge him, but he wasn’t going to question her. “I’ve had worse company,” Carrington said, pulling a tiny smirk out of his carefully controlled expression. 

He made quick but efficient work out of drawing up the dose of Bliss. The whole vial, not just half. He watched as Nox took a pull from her own choice of poison for the night, trying not to notice the pale arch of her neck as she inhaled. His movements were a bit slower as he undid his belt and pulled the side of his jeans down over his hip. A swipe of antiseptic, and the needle found the small vein over his hipbone (he never used his arms to inject, because of his augments).

The violet liquid disappeared slowly, and Carrington had just enough time to discard the needle onto the tabletop before the feeling of euphoria started the melt over him. He sagged back onto the couch, long legs splayed indolently,  eyes fluttering shut as he gave a a half-hearted tug to right his jeans. The belt was left loose as his hands slipped to the side, too heavy too move without effort. But gods the pain dulled to a low, easy to ignore hum. 

Carrington groaned as it eased, feeling better than he had in days. Eventually, he opened his eyes, which were dark and dilated, and watched her for a long moment. The Bliss loosened his tongue and his inhibitions - not that he had many of those to begin with - and Carrington couldn’t help but think of far more pleasant ways to spend another hour or two with such beautiful company. The chances of getting his throat cut in the process were about 50/50. 

That only made the thought sweeter. 

“Are you?” he asked. “Comfortable?” he amended slowly. 

“If there’s someone’s worse than me, I want them dead.” The barest trace of a joke was in her low voice, because it was barely a joke. Competition was one of the deadliest things out on the street and Nox wanted to stay high up on that food chain for as long as her augmented body could stand. Nox wasn’t here for a good time, or a long time and she was well aware that her company could be an acquired taste, if even that.

Nox kept her eyes closed for a few moments, letting the moongas continue to work their magic. A systematic relaxing of her body as she sank a little further into her cushions. It wasn’t enough to fully get rid of the pain, but then again, anything in her cabinets wouldn’t get rid of the pain, it would just make her forget it for a little while. Pain killers were something that a doctor had to prescribe, a legit one, and that was too many loops for Nox to have to go through.

When her eyes opened, Bishop was in the process of injecting himself with his sweet, sweet bliss. Nox watched with mild curiosity as the man seemed to sag with a sudden hit of relaxation, as his eyes closed briefly. So vulnerable, such an easy target but not worth it. To her he was worth more alive anyways, alive and in good favor. She almost envied the way Bliss seemed to take effort almost immediately. Moongas would take a little while to affect her, Black Beauties would be quicker but they weren’t on her list tonight.

Her eyes were almost cat-like as they looked at him; intense, narrowed, more like a wild-cat than a sweet house variety and soft chuckle escaped her lips at his question. Not bothering to respond yet, she took another hit off her vape, exhaling the smoke in tiny circles. “Don’t be going soft on me yet Bishop. Do I look like a woman who ever gets comfortable?” she said, kicking a leg lazily against the side of her chair, gesturing to herself and the fact that she was still in her street clothes, leather boots and jacket still adorning her body. That was a lie, she got plenty comfortable given enough blankets and cushion and a good vapor of Vanilla Sky before bed. But he didn’t know that and he didn't need to. “Besides you look comfortable enough for the both of us.” Another chuckle left her, face scrunching up with the amusement. The moongas were starting to take effect, that light, euphoric air that Nox normally only ever got after a fights slipping into her bloodstream.

Carrington’s younger self had thrived in chaos as well. Always hyper-focused and hyper-aware, he was always a steady calm amidst all of it. Never breaking, never faltering. Never letting anything but the mission and the lives of his men and his fellow soldiers weigh on his mind. Because back then he could forget. He could let it go. But as he got older, gained in experience, and lost more people, saw more death, Carrington stopped being able to forget. He could compartmentalize, yes. But truly forgetting? No. Not anymore. 

And after the accident? He was rarely blessed with true silence. The list of what could accomplish such a feat was short, but it included the Bliss he had just paid for. He was good for it, and Nox knew he was. “Thank you,” he said as she went to fill his order.

He didn’t see the scowl on her face, or the fact that she checked her phone for his payment. Carrington had closed his eyes for a moment, trying to dull the ringing in his ears that sometimes came with the absence of sound. Along with the throbbing flame burning up his back. He only opened them when Nox spoke again, glancing towards her. “One of my rare positive qualities, I’m afraid.” 

He watched her walk back towards him, his purchase in hand, setting it before him as always. If Carrington could be said to trust someone, at least when it came to putting illicit substances in his system, Nox was the only person on that list. Though only because she took pride in the quality and efficacy of her product. Killing off a regular customer with a bad batch wasn’t good for business. Or reputation. But just as Nox had checked that his payment had cleared, Carrington sat up - slowly, but with as much dignity and casualness as he could muster - and reached for one of the bottles. He held it up to the light, nestled securely between his middle finger and thumb, looking at the clarity, which was crystal clear, as always. Nothing less than expected. “That’s why I come to you, darling. Beautiful, as always.” 

He lowered the vial, about to reaching for the small case that contained the others. Before he could, something pulled across his lower back like a hot blade dipped in acid. The sudden pain was intense enough that he jerked forward with a grunt, nearly crushing the little vial in his hand as he was forced to catch himself against the edge of the table. He froze after that, entire body taut, and pressed his eyes closed. Gritting his teeth, he waited for another flare, acutely aware that this was happening in front of an audience. But there was nothing he could do. 

When the flare didn’t come, Carrington took a deep breath and let it through his nose. He opened his eyes first, and when there was still no subsequent stab of pain, he reached slowly for one of the needles. He pushed back up and eased back onto the couch, his pale complexion looking a bit green. “How much… to use your backroom… for an hour or two?” 

The lazy smirk on her lips at the compliment quickly shifted into a hard line as Bishop went through a spasm of pain in front of her. Someone with more compassion might have reacted, or if this had been someone else Nox might have relished this evident sign of weakness. But this was just another part of the job, seeing people in bad states and making an effort not to care, not that she needed to expend effort to seem apathetic. The only sign that she had even noticed that anything was amiss in front of her was the fact that her ice blue eyes remained on Bishop until after the flare had passed, nothing but a causal curiosity in them. At least on the outside.

Because that was the issue with having regular customers. You started to rely on them being alive so that you could keep up with your routine transactions and because of that... you started to care. Not about them generally, but about their well-being, about them being fit enough to come back again (or even leave in the first place). And that was the part the Nox always struggled with, every cell in her body trained from youth not to care about the state of others. That letting yourself even consider another person’s well being for even a moment could be a fatal misstep. She’d already broke enough rules with that lately, she didn’t need to add any more.

It was an internal sigh of relief when it seemed like Bishop’s pain had passed. Nox eased back in her chair as he reached out for one of the needles, she had already assumed where this was going. That quick fix after a purchase was something most clients did, it just depended on the day if Nox was going to charge them for the time or not. She was feeling generous tonight, or maybe she just didn’t care. “For tonight, nothing. As long as you don’t actually mind my company because I’m not going back onto the floor...” She really didn’t want to go anywhere at this point, her muscles starting to stiffen up again. Even moving from the chair would be too much effort, though if she wanted the Vanilla Sky she was going to use to ignore her pain tonight, she’d have to get up. Too bad nanites could only work so fast, Nox would pay generously if someone found a quicker and easier way to heal than this.

Nox settled on the Moongas in her pocket, the vape she always carried on her in case she needed a quick hit. It wasn’t nearly as strong but it was at least something. Kicking her legs over one of the arms of the chair, she sank into the comfort of the plush cushioning, letting her head fall back. With eyes closed, she took a hit off of her pen, letting the smoke trail its way down her throat filling her with a synthetic warmth, before breathing it out from the corner of her mouth. “Make yourself comfortable, Bishop. Let me know if I can get you anything, though I make no promises on my ability to fulfill those requests.”

Whether Nox saw his discomfort or not, she never said. And Carrington never offered the information up. The people who knew what he suffered with he could count on one hand, and if it got much worse, he was going to have to make a housecall to one of them. It was usually manageable enough. Though at certain times it crept up on him, fine one moment, flaring like white hot flames the next. Because Carrington’s pain didn’t come from street scuffles or even pit fights. His pain was quite literally bone deep. The result of an accident that had severed his spine and crushed his pelvis, and very nearly taken his life. 

The surgeon who’d saved him had done a damn fine job. It wasn’t the augments that were failing, it was Carrington himself. Or so he’d been told by the hackjobs he’d seen from time to time. No… he needed to see Savin. If the time came. 

For now, he was here, and the solution was right in front of him. “Lucky me,” Carrington agreed, finishing his own drink and following a moment later. He knew the way, and was in no hurry as he pushed through the crowd. Through the door and letting it lock behind them, Carrington very nearly sagged at the way the outside noise was dulled to a low hum in here. It did little to quiet the noise in Carrington’s head, and as he moved to sit in his usual spot, a grunt of pain escaped as he tried to swing his legs up onto the couch. He managed to shut it off after that, and school his face back to neutrality, though he was a bit paler than usual. 

Carrington was, in many ways, a creature of habit. Not enough to get himself caught or killed, but enough that when something worked, he didn’t like to mess with that system. So his order was the same as always. “Enough for a week.” That should be enough. He didn’t use it everyday, after all. Only when the pain got to be too much, or the chaos in his head got out of hand. For now, he just glance over at Nox. “You’re already paid darling. Check for yourself if you don’t believe me.” He’d transferred the credits as soon as the door had locked behind them.

A younger Nox had lived for the noise of the Nest, loved the thrumming music, the absolute chaos of the dance floor, the occasional fight with a mid-town punk that thought they were good enough to take a Crow. A good escape from the absolute terror of the streets and one she had once been keen to throw herself into. Now she itched to escape from it whenever possible, which made these back rooms perfect. The diminished noise tied with the isolation, this was now her escape. That and the occasional Black Beauty or Vanilla Sky trip.

“A week it is.” Nox would ignore the grunt of pain, as she would any sign of weakness from clients, unless that was the game between them. But normally that was someone who tried to prod where they shouldn’t have been, which meant that the respect between seller and buyer was compromised and she was allowed to do what she liked. Bishop wasn’t like that though.  He always paid, always up front and knew to mind his own business.But it didn’t hurt to check. Her private account was updated with the payment, a nice sign but not enough to distract her from the message on her phone or to keep a scowl off her face. Another lift of black market cyberware parts foiled by what the group thought were the Disciples, just the icing on top of the cake of today. But that was something to care about later. Instead she looked up from what she was doing to glance over at the man. “Always can count on you to be prompt with payments. I like that about you Bishop.”

People could say all they wanted about the disorganized chaos of the Crows, but the systems they needed to have down, they had down. And nothing was more important or ingrained in the Crows than a need for their drug trade to be as clean, sharp and efficient as it possibly could be. It meant being prepared for the usual amount of Bliss or Red Devils or etc in a typical order and pre-packing containers to fit those needs. If a customer needed extra it was always on hand, ready to place on the table in front of them. Nox was proud of it, the less work on the dealers part the better, the less of the process the customer saw, even better.

Nox set the metal container on the table in front of Bishop and popped it open, revealing fourteen bottles of the liquid lilac Bliss, enough for two highs a day for a week (if someone used like that) as well as needles and other supplies if he found that he needed such things. Only once things were laid out as they should be did Nox allow herself to settle into the armchair across from the couch, though she was still perched on the edge of the cushion. Her hands gestured at the stash in front of her. “That should be enough for at least a week. Happiness and tranquility in a bottle, the best blissful company you could ever ask for.” And Bishop needed it, noticeably paler than he had been out in the neon soaked lights of the public Nest.

“So who runs it now that’s turned the show around?” he asked, genuinely curious as to find out who was running the show these days. “’Cause, I’d certainly be interested in extending contracts if they’re savvy enough to turn a decrepit organisation into something functional.” Little did he realise that he was speaking to them presently.

“Psycho never suited me personally, I was too young for most of the hardcore stuff they installed but they gave me decent enough starter kit.” Admittedly he’d upgraded a lot since then. He felt her gaze giving him a once over, and idly wondered what it was that was going through her mind. She’d always been a tricky book to read, but once he’d gotten pretty good at coming to be able to read her.

“Guess some things never do change,” he tipped his glass to Nox’s statement because ultimately it was the epitome of truth to which he lived his life. “It has its own challenges… Finding legit work that’s always engaging. I’m running a little thin on decent paying contracts honestly.”

How easy and fun it would be just to tell Tony who exactly ran the Crows, that the woman in front of him and girl he had known out on the streets had made such a place for herself. But there was a part of her that hesitated and Nox listened to that part. Because although she knew Tony, she didn’t really know what he had gotten himself into. If he could be trusted... if he could have even really been trusted before. “Crows don’t need a leader,” she stated, the words most crows knew to say to outsiders, the words most of the relished. There was a sense of freedom in those words, like there were no rules to follow. But it wasn’t quite an answer, a vague mystery behind it. “And it’s pretty functional right now, could always use a little bit more of a boost but, The Nest is busy about every night and that’s not the only source of income. But I’m poke around a bit, see who I need to get in touch with for getting you an in. We’re okay with opening some new doors.”

The gaze was one that everyone on the street got good at. A casual, but careful analysis. Try to figure out where the danger was, who the person ran with. Catch any augments that might be on the person. It was just another thing you did when you ran into someone, normally strangers but life could change in a snap down here. But there was another side of it for Nox entirely, at least in Tony’s case. Like when you’re looking at someone you think you know but aren’t certain if it’s them or not. Or even if it’s them, you’re still not sure what got them to this point.

“Maybe you need to try to find some not so legit work?” she offered, giving a slight shrug. “Or you just need to find somewhere else to get that thrill?” Nox wasn’t going to be any help with actual ideas here, her own life so simple. But then again it always is when you’re the boss. “I’ll keep an ear out for you. And if I have anything I need done, I’ll let you know. I have some pretty steady clients that make business rather steady.”

The noise of the club hardly bothered Carrington, who spun his drink in his glass as he watched the masses on either side of him throw away what little bit of dignity they might have still possessed. He barely remembered what it was like to be so young, so blessedly naive. Though if given a choice, Carrington would never go back to that time in his life. He hadn’t been immune to the naivety of youth. To the reality that lay behind the flash of smoke and mirrors that so often became the focus of the young and impressionable. Of those that wanted to be something more than simply a meatsack with enough basic brain function to keep themselves breathing, but not enough to think about crawling out of the muck towards fresh air. 

Let them keep their delusions. Carrington was well shot of his. He knew far too much about reality to swallow that particular pill ever again. Ironically, it was reality itself - the lack of those force-fed blinders - that had first prompted him to find a different sort of pill. One that would make even the harshest of truths disappear. If only for awhile. 

Her glass of whisky arrived a moment or two before she did. Only then did Carrington raise his own glass to his lips. He didn’t look at her, even as she sat right beside him. Instead, he watched her reflection in the mirror behind the bar. “I happened to be in the neighborhood. Fancied a drink.” He turned the whiskey back slowly, draining it completely before ordering another. A small tightening of his features, along with the way he sat with his weight forwards on his elbows, were the only indications that anything was amiss - that the pain in his spine was crawling close to unbearable tonight - before he schooled his expression back to his normal resting scowl. “There’s always a thing or two I need from you, darling,” he answered, only now letting his gaze slide towards her. 

Oddly, now that he looked at her up close, she seemed… off. Like a picture that seemed to hang a bit crooked, but not so much that most people would be able to tell. He looked away as his second drink came, telling himself it was none of his business. Nox would hardly appreciate the scrutiny besides, and Carrington knew better than to outright ask. Not if he wanted to do business. She did have all the control here after all. A fact that Carrington never forgot. A fact that kept him coming back again and again.  

“The bliss of your company being one of many.” 

Escape. That’s what everyone was searching for in this hellhole of a city. From the highest star scraper to the lowest dredges, each person had something that they wanted to get away from. Worries, pain, memories, the options ran the gambit and Nox had seen all of those and more in her time with the Crows. When it came to new customers, there’s a bit of a science involved, trying to find out exactly what a person needs, especially if they don’t already it for themselves. Nox hated that part. She liked the customers she already knew. Knew their orders, knew their poison. The tension they came to her with and everything attached to it, knowing she was the one standing in between that and the possibility of bliss... even it’s just for as long as the high lasts.

“And I just might have something for you.” Her eyes flickered up to their reflection to meet his gaze, head tilted slightly before looking back at his actual person, the ice blue eyes trailing over his posture.

Pain. Very good at masking it but still hints were there and Nox picked up on body language better than actual language at all times. It was something she understood too. The streets were rough, life was rougher and there were certain injuries that could fuck a person up beyond fixing. She’d been lucky so far, nothing more than superficial for the most part. But most people weren’t as lucky as her. Then again, Nox wasn’t most people.

Bliss

Nox smiled at his statement, finishing the last part of her whiskey before she spoke again. “That can be arranged. Luckily for you, I’m free for company tonight.” She left the glass on the counter, pushing herself up and moving down the bar where she had come from earlier, slipping through the crowds as easy as she always had. She didn’t need to look behind her; she knew Bishop would be following and knew that he knew what door to go through. He’d been here enough times before that he should.

She’d never call him an addict to his face, but there weren’t many customers that Nox had a routine for. Knew exactly what needed to be gathered, knew exactly how much, as long as he didn’t change it up on her. Bliss was a hard mistress; a beautiful, clear lilac substance with a perchance of holding on tight to it’s users and Nox didn’t mind continuing that relationship as long as it meant credits in her pocket.

“How much do you need tonight?” she asked when he came through the door and got settled, as much as a man like Bishop gets settled. “And I don’t have to ask you if you have the credits, right?”

It was a irrefutable fact that Carrington was drawn to danger. And to beauty. Combine those two elements and it was like dangling a shiny jewel in front of a covetous magpie. Completely irresistible. Especially when he found that certain things were to his liking. Because Carrington could quickly form a habit. A need. An addiction. Though no one would ever hear him call it that. He told himself he knew exactly what he was doing and why. He knew exactly what he wanted, exactly how to use it for maximum effect, and exactly where to find it. 

But if someone lies to themselves long enough, it starts to become truth.

The Crow’s Nest looked as it always did as Carrington approached. The neon glow a bit more upscale here in the mid-city than down in the trenches. As were the people that queued up to get inside. Mid-towners mostly, but he noticed a few twenty-somethings that looked like upper-crust come to mingle among the lower class for the novelty of it. Fucking punks.

Carrington spared them no more than a cursory glance as he bypassed the line altogether, dipping under the ropes and heading for the front door as if he owned the place. He didn’t of course, but he knew who did. 

A large, meaty hand to his chest stopped him before he could enter. “Bishop,” the gravelly voice of a security guard that called himself Ajax rumbled. “Told you last time. There’s a line.” He didn’t push Carrington, but kept his large, tattooed hand pointedly on the man’s chest.  

Carrington glared up at the looming hulk of a man, not looking for trouble, but also not about to be deterred when Ajax knew damn good and well why Carrington was here. “Ajax. Good to see you. Still playing guard dog I see?” Carrington smirked. “I suppose someone has to do it. We can’t all have brains to go with all that brawn, now can we?” 

The guard growled, his bald head turning red beneath the glow of the symbols inked into his skin. His thick fingers curled into Carrington’s shirt. 

Carrington’s fingers curled ever so slightly. He would take Ajax’s hand off before he let the man strike him. “Now now… what would your boss think if you made a scene in front of all these people?” Carrington’s smirk grew as Ajax seemed to ponder the question. In the end, fearing his boss’s wrath more than he wanted to cave in Carrington’s face, Ajax let Carrington go, glaring at him as he let the mercenary pass by into the club. 

Carrington straightened his shirt, smirk darkening back to his usual scowl once he was inside. He made his way to the bar and ordered a very specific drink. And then… he waited. 

@riotnox​

On nights like this, Nox would rather stay in one of the back rooms than venture out onto the floor of the night club. It was always too loud and was especially so after a hard fight in the lower city earlier that day that left her head ringing. She of course, had come out victorious in the fight, but even Nox couldn’t leave every fight unscathed and this one was no different.

Lucky for her, there were other people who could run the Nest. Even more lucky, most people didn’t even know she was the one running it, only the people who needed to know and the people who had figured it out. For now, those numbers were limited and although Nox was aware sooner rather than later that would change, she didn’t really want to focus on dealing with that right now. Right now she would rather nurse her wounds and relax.

That didn’t seem to be on tonight’s menu though. Because instead of laying in the back room on one of the plush couches that tended to be Nox’s bed more than her one at her flat, she was exactly where she didn’t want to be. “I swear, i have to break up another fight between the two of you, there won’t be anymore fights to break up,” she hissed, hauling the two crows off of the dance floor roughly by their collars, the threat clear and intense enough that she had both of them still in her grasp. “And if you’re going to fight, don’t do it on an open night. Or in the Nest at all. It’s bad for business.” She whacked the two upside their heads. It wouldn’t knock any sense in them but it was at least a deterrent for now. Either they would learn to get along, or one of them wouldn’t come back one day and Nox wouldn’t ask questions. Let people deal with their issues, she’d done it herself plenty of times.

Just when she though she’d be good to go, almost to the door to her escape, Nox was stopped again, this time by Pitch, the bartender on duty that night. “He’s back? Okay, fine, I’ll be there in second. And, make me a drink,” she muttered, but her sour contenance brightened a little. There’s was little in life Nox actually enjoyed, but good customers could at least be counted on for money and one of her best was Bishop.

Trying but not succeeding easing the tension in her back with a stretch, she straightened herself out before heading over to the bar, on the customer side where there were twenty-something chumps paying for a night of danger without going to the Low City and punks who thought they belonged it. It was easy to pick between them and a Crow at least it should be. Catching sight of the person she was looking for she eased into the chair next to him, hand moving to grab the glass of whiskey that Pitch had poured for her. “Fancy seeing you here Bishop,” Nox said with a smirk on her lips, never moving even when she brought her glass up to take a sip. “A little birdie told me you were here and you might need a thing or two from me?” Not that she didn’t already know the reason for the visit, but she liked to let her customers remind her what it was. A sense of power play? Sure. But then again, she was the one in charge of the situation when it came to drugs and especially so when she was dealing with a regular.

“Oh, I have no doubt.” They’d both grown up on those streets, and something about the edge in the woman sat beside him now gave him the impression she’d been through hearing those words one too many time for them to really have any sort of impact. “Of course it is, or some have all of the above… The world’s boring without that adrenaline rush.” 

Unfortunately, Tony didn’t have the luxury of not being known. He was known by people, dangerous ones at that. His name might not be in any formal database but the details were somewhere, regardless of how he’d hunted them to try and expunge his existence it only went so far. Once you were in the system that was it to a point, you’d always be somewhat traceable. His training left him naturally hyper-aware, dangerous situations setting him just enough on edge that he was cautious even in civilian settings. There were no overt signals to his hyper-vigilence, save the way his eyes lingered on certain points in the room. Assimilating information in his mind into an actionable plan should something go wrong. It made dealing with stressful situations far less stressful if you’d already planned for every potential eventuality.

He was hardly fazed by Nox’s overt threats to the bartender, she’d always been brash and confident. It was partly why he enjoyed her company as much as he did. “They’re still around?” the surprise in his voice was evident, “huh, I thought they’d run themselves into the ground before now… They never were the most… serious… bunch when we were young.” But that was a long time ago, and things could change. “Sure, makes sense…” His own response was a slight tip of his shoulder as the beer was brought, taking a sip of it, “run with the Disciples for a bit… Ended up going to ground after the cell’s HQ got torched… Mostly I just do my own contracted freelance work these days. No real affiliation to… anywhere.” There were other details to it, but you couldn’t rightly say, I used to be special ops but I’m not anymore and have it go down well with any criminal. Regardless of close they used to be.

“Yeah, well that’s because when we were young they were being run by an idiot,” Nox commented flippantly, brushing the comment aside with a hand. Silver would have run the Crows into the ground if Nox hadn’t stopped him. He hadn’t been progressive enough, inventive enough. His old ways were exactly what would have led the Crows to an utter die out or collapse. And Nox and her crew had breathed new life back into the almost corpse. “We’re still around, alive and kicking as ever. We just don’t work in the usual ways.” Not that anyone knew what the Crows cohesive goal was; except for Nox.

Cause as much chaos as they could, chip at the foundations of this city. And as long as it was fun and profitable, none of the Crows had an argument against it. 

Nox frowned at the mention of the Disciples, taking her whiskey glass as it was placed on the counter before her. The sip wasn’t half bad, nothing like she could get from mid-city but still better than before. “Got out before you could get turned into a Psycho? Good. That shit’s insane.”  She looked him up and down again, as if making sure her previous statement was actually true, but also again, just taking in the fact that this was in fact Tony Sinclair, sitting next to her. “Lucky you, just working for yourself... basically. But it suits you. You never did like to get attached to anything or anyone. Except yourself.”

“Darling, you’re too pretty for the street, or at least I bet that’s what people say before you rip their face off hm?”

“What’s it with you and bloodshed? Can’t get enough of it, eh?” But then Tony was always down for a brawl wherever he could find one. The bloodier his knuckles were by the time he got in the more successful a night he’d had in his opinion. With his parcel secure, Tony didn’t bother to linger in the alley having no further business there anyways. He trailed after Nox, watching her every move with intense curiosity. Of course, he was dialled to twelve on any given occasion especially when walking the street but it was interesting for his own opinion to see how other people worked and acted on the streets. Nox’s hyper-vigilance was surprisingly but also not so unfamiliar to him. 

Eventually, they arrived at their destination. The Saloon in all honesty wasn’t his most favourite of places to pass the time, but you took what you got. As with any environment, Tony did a quick count of heads, a scan for potential exits and the most viable routes of getting to said exits. Not to mention an assessments of any potential threats in the environment. It barely took half a minute to complete, perhaps it was paranoia, but the act had kept him alive this long. He was loathe to abandon it even for Nox and whether she knew these people or not. “Sure, I’ll start with beer if it’s going.” He could go for whiskey but the stuff they served here was piss poor and not worth the effort of ordering in his opinion. “So… Who are you running with these days?” You didn’t survive this long without affiliating yourself with a particular crew or gang or found some other means of survival.

“I’ll admit, that’s a frequent response I’ve gotten over the years.” Pretty. Beautiful. Lovely. All compliments tossed out at her, never in sincerity and more of a way to try to knock her off her edge. And when Nox was younger, it did the trick. Bothered her, caught her up, made her make mistakes. But she’d grown out of that quickly, especially in the Crows, but it wasn’t an easy lesson to learn. Learning to fight with the Crows versus on the street was a different deal; these were people who wanted to see you grow, but didn’t mind throwing you in the gutter if you didn’t show your worth. So Nox made sure that her worth was clear as day, shoving her feelings towards comments on her looks down deep, until at some point, she found herself not caring anymore. Because she wasn’t just a pretty face, she was also lethal and bloodthirsty and unafraid to get rough when necessary.

Which is why she just smirked at Tony’s next comment, giving a slight hum at the comment and flexing her fingers out of habit. “It’s the thrill of it. Everyone has their vices. Some have drugs. Some have sex. Some have the feeling during an all out brawl.” And plenty of people used all three to find some sense of spark down here in this waste of a world.

It was so odd to study someone else’s function of being hyper-aware of their surrounding and how they processed that information. Mostly because even though Nox was careful enough on the street, she’d never been that cautious. Part of it was confidence. Most of it was the relief of being deemed not important enough to trace. At least for now. “One beer then.” Nox locked eyes with the bartender, who after helping their current customer, slid over in front of them. “We’ll get a beer and a whiskey to start. My tab.” A dangerous look gleamed over her eyes as leaned partially across the bar. “And if you try to give me that water down shit you tried last time, I swear I’ll go through with my threat. I have some friends who would definitely love to help as well.” There was a flash of Nox’s sharp smile as she resumed her normal stance and watched the person get to work, with a little bit more liveliness in their step after her... pep talk. “The Copper Crows. Have been since just a little bit after you disappeared,” she explained, not even trying to keep it a mystery. It wasn’t worth it in the end, most people would be able to place Nox as one of the Crows and if Tony really wanted to know, he could have found out. “Started running scraps for them, eventually worked my way up to something decent. How about you?”