A car passed, rattling the loose chrome in the building loud enough to wake Oz with a start.

  “Shh, it's ok.” Trig was there, stroking xyr side.

  In xyr sleep, Oz had rolled towards him, curled up under his jacket, brow furrowed with dreams or nightmares. Now, awake, xe looked up at him with clear eyes. The brown, human one had a touch of sadness but he wasn’t sure if that was in his head.

  “Morning,” he said with a forced smile.

  Without thinking, he leaned in and brushed his lips across xyrs.

  After a breath, Oz kissed back. It was brief and dry but Trig took it as a good sign.

  “You hungry?” he asked, leaning back and pulling his jacket off Oz to shrug into it himself.

  “Where are we?”

  He figured xe might not have paid much attention to the safe house location. Hell, he was surprised Oz was talking and moving at all after how out of it xe’d been. “Red light district,” he explained. “Safe house. “Got friends at this motel who could do some quick stitch-work and let us go dark. No questions. No logs.””

  “Stitch?” Oz looked Trig over and must have noticed the new clothes. In the corner, his bloodied pants and shirt lay in a pile, useless. “You were hurt?”

  “Nothing that some quick digging and a nano boost couldn’t fix,” Trig said with a shrug. It wouldn’t do him any favors to share he’d bitched like a baby during the whole ordeal.

  Looking outside, Mercy was just starting to wake up as the sun rose. “I say we get out of here and head back to Harry’s. Let his brute deal with Bekker’s gang if they’re still in town.”

  “Sounds…sensible.”

  He turned to see Oz stand up and make xyr way to the bathroom. Ignoring the sounds of xem relieving themselves, Trig sent a message to the motel owner that they were vacating.

  When Oz didn’t come out right away, he went to the bathroom door. “You ok? You were kind of out of it last night?”

  A long pause before, “Yea. I’m ok now.”

  “What happened with that Droido?” He didn’t want to know but it was better to find out now than with Harry later.

  Another stretch of silence. “They died.”

  He really didn’t want to know.

  Water turned on and he could hear what sounded like Oz splashing xyr face and spitting.

  Hell, he could use a clean up too. However, this motel was hardly an upscale joint with little soap bars. Trig didn’t want to think about what was on the bedsheets they’d slept on or when they were last laundered.

  “You hungry?” he asked again when Oz came back out.

  Oz huffed what could have been a laugh. “You’re always hungry.”

  It was good to hear xem talk.

  Trig was able to draw Oz into conversation as they walked towards Harry’s. “Car’s stashed. Figured it was safest for now in case Bekker got a lead on it. Besides, it's pretty banged up.”

  “Twenty-five k from Harry ought to help fix that,” Oz said offhandedly.

  That made Trig grin and nod. “Sure thing. Oh, there’s a sandwich guy just up-”

  “Yo! Oz! What’s with the threads? You look like a sex toy that forgot its tits somewhere.”

  Trig’s hand went to his gun as he positioned himself between Oz and whoever had called out.

  A ratter with blue hair, dark skin, and a plasti-cloth vest approached, scowling.

  “It’s ok,” Oz said, putting a hand on Trig’s shoulder before calling out. “Very amusing, Silk. We can’t all wear the same plastic vest and pants every day.”

  Silk approached, still scowling. “You’re Trig, right? Singer for that glitchy noise-pop group, what’s it called?”

  “SolDrift, and its synth-growl,” Trig corrected with a sneer. Who the hell was this guy?

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “Yea, yea.” Silk turned to Oz. “Since when do you hang out with wanna-be corpo-celebs?”

  Before Trig could reply, Oz patted his shoulder again. “He might not look like it but Trig’s real. I can vouch for him. How was the race yesterday?”

  While the ratter didn’t seem sure about Trig, the mention of racing put a grin on his face. “Won two k. Though, ‘tween you and me, the carboys were fucking around with some new smoke that glitched their tech.”

  He shrugged off the admission without losing his grin. “Me and the boys are gonna head out tonight. You should slip leash and come with us. Don’t wear that though.” He gestured to the blue and black mesh dress, thigh highs, and dark boots of Verana’s that Oz still wore. The wig was lost somewhere in the night’s rush for survival. “The boys’ll forget you’re a ghost and try to throw sparks and call it flirting.”

  “None of them ever were too sharp,” Oz said. “We will see. I need to sort things first and I’ll message you when I’m available.”

  Silk nodded, giving Trig a side-eyed glance as he touched knuckles with Oz and headed out.

  It amazed Trig how fast Oz’ demeanor changed around the ratter. Gone was the monotone robot or the brief glimpse of the awkward code-doll he’d known for the past twenty-four hours. It made him wonder how many masks Oz wore and if xe even realized xe was wearing them.

  He watched the ratter leave then turned to the Droido. “I’m real, huh?” He tried not to think too hard about the part where xe said he didn’t look it.

  Oz smiled softly. “You said something about food?”

  Xe knew just how to take Trig’s mind of a nuisance it seemed. “Yea, this way.”

  As they walked, Trig asked, “Silk, huh? Hell of a name for a ratter.”

  “Silk as in ‘smooth as,’” Oz explained. “Silk always did have a way with words.”

  Trig hadn’t seen proof of that but street names were earned one way or another. He should know.

  “They mostly run the alleys around Harry’s and do a little strip racing,” Oz explained. “Sometimes they do some scavenger work beyond the wall.”

  This reminded Trig of something from yesterday morning as they approached the street meat vendor he sought. The old man was in his usual spot, making sandwiches with ingredients it was best not to look too hard at.

  Trig smirked and asked, “So you all have had some interaction with muties.”

  Oz didn’t seem to notice the way the vendor glared at the two of them. “Mutants aren’t so bad. Some of them trade around the wall. Scrap and old world artifacts. They just want clean water and food.”

  “Two sandwiches,” Trig ordered, enjoying the look on the old man’s face. Had it only been a day ago he was letting this old bastard bitch about Droidos and muties to his face? It was weird what twenty-four hours could do.

  “The wall gets the occasional problem,” Oz said, watching the man slap meat and a cheesy sauce on flat bread. “But that’s the same with anyone.”

  “Yea, even those fortunate enough to live in the walls and make a clean living can be real fuck-heads, huh?” Trig’s eyes never left the old man as he spoke.

  “Here,” the vendor said, shoving both sandwiches at Trig, not looking up.

  “Thank you,” Oz said, taking xyrs and picking at it as xe headed up the street towards Harry’s.

  Trig nodded to the old man, paid, and followed after.

  Harry was talking to three men dressed in suits when they arrived. He glanced at Trig and Oz before turning back to the suits. A few words were spoken, nods, and then the three left out the back.

  “Trig! Oz! I was starting to worry about you two.” Harry greeted them with slaps on the shoulders that nearly knocked the Droido over. “How did it go?”

  He looked down at Oz’s clothes with brows raised in surprise. “New look?”

  “Verana let me borrow some clothes. Trig said it would help keep us low-key. It worked.” Oz then let Trig do the talking while xe uploaded the collected data onto Harry’s nearby secure com.

  Trig did his best not to go into too much detail about the bodies. He could see Oz studiously not listening when he got to the part about the Droido.

  “Bekker really is a bastard,” Harry said with a sigh. He ran a hand over his face as he considered all of this. “I never thought he’d stoop that low. Once word gets out about this, it should clear out business for him pretty quick in Mercy but I’ll send some of my muscle down to the warehouse to fumigate.”

  Trig felt his breakfast sit uneasily after recounting the scene at the warehouse. “Good.”

  “You let me worry about him. You worry about how you’re gonna spend this Thirty k.” At Trig’s raised brow, Harry smirked. “Use the bonus to fix your car.”

  The transfer was quick and Trig got the notice of deposit on his wrist com.

  “Oz, you get that data secured,” Harry said, turning to his Droido, clearly done talking to Trig now that money had exchanged hands. “I have some decryption work for you in your room.”

  However, Trig lingered, crossing his arms and watching Harry pointedly.

  The movement caught the boss’ attention. “Need something, Trig?”

  “Oz’s cut?” Trig asked, causing the Droido to look up from xyr work in surprise. Xyr expression confirmed what Trig suspected - xe wasn’t in the habit of getting paid for the work xe did for Harry. Well, that was going to change.

  Harry looked confused. “What do you mean?”

  Trig stepped in close to Harry in a way that could either be friendly or threatening and nodded to Oz. “I was wondering when you were going to pay Oz xyr cut. Xe worked xyr ass off last night and could probably use the cash to help deal with the shit xe saw.”

  Harry’s eyes went sharp as his congenial smile froze on his face. “Right. Of course. Thank you for the reminder.”

  When Trig made no move to leave, Harry brought his wrist com up and made the money transfer in front of him.

  Oz blinked and nodded, glancing at xyr internal screens. “Thanks, Harry.”

  “Of course. Let no one say Harry doesn’t pay for work completed.” His words were harsh as he moved to his stool behind the counter. “Will that be all, Trig?”

  Trig smirked and shrugged. “Sure. I’ll catch you around, Oz.”

  “Count on it,” xe said, already turning back to xyr work..

  Neon Mercy through the end of Season 1.

  Errand of Mercy — is available as an ebook on itch.io. That support helps keep the serial going and lets me keep making weird, queer cyberpunk stories like this one.

  Season 2 (Product of Mercy) is already underway, and the story will continue right here.

  keep your engine loud,

  Dex