Mirage
"Eat and be merry, for tomorrow we die."
Despite having a memory like Swiss cheese, Wraith wasn't a complete cultural Neanderthal. In fact, her culture was good enough to know that Neanderthals weren't the stupid brutes that they'd been thought to be centuries ago (a stereotype that centuries more had failed to shake). So while she was unaware of the origins of the phrase, she was at least aware of its existence. Also aware that it had relevance to the present day…. mostly. Because after this round of the Apex Games, she wasn't eating and being merry, she was drinking and trying to be merry, because tomorrow…well, tomorrow she'd probably end up with a hangover and…well…
Thought you said it was relevant.
She ignored the voice and took down another swig of kalus – an alcoholic beverage that tasted little different from any other kind of alcoholic beverage. Still, she drank it. The more she drank, the deeper her sleep would be, and the softer the voice inside her head would be as well. Of course, the more she drank, the greater the hangover, but she had pills for that. The type of pills reserved for headaches, and not other mishaps that may or may not occur between the setting and rising of the sun.
Granted, Desponia had two suns, but-
"More," she said, thumping down the empty pint on the tray of a passing waiter. A W-TER Mk. VII to be exact.
"You will need to pay-"
She flashed her credit chip.
"Another one coming," it said.
Aw. You didn't give it a tip, the voice said.
Fuck off.
That's not what you said seven hours ago.
I did say it, just not to you.
So when I'm keeping you alive, it's fine, but as soon as we're off the field-
When we're off the field, I expect you to stay quiet. She took another glass of kalus and took a big sip. And that means fucking off.
Oh if I could. The voice sniggered. Look to your right.
Wraith did so, and turned away. Guy and a girl, girl and a girl, guy and a guy...chances were pills would be involved with at least one of them tonight. God knew they were being busy enough.
I hate you, Wraith thought.
I know. But you need me.
The voice was right – she did need it, whatever "it" was.
She took another sip, pondering the options for the umpteenth time. Problem was, the options were about as wide as the gulf of space itself, ranging from "I'm insane" to "evil Void monster is whispering to me, seeking to bring about the return of squid monsters." Having encountered squid monsters on Analask VI, Wraith had no desire to inflict such horrors on the rest of humanity, even if humanity was scarce any better than bloody squid monsters. Because between the IMC, the Militia, and everyone else trying to scrape together a living on the Frontier, well…
Yeah, squid monsters are still worse though, she reflected.
Told you.
Thought I told you to fuck off.
You did. But look to your left.
Against her better judgement, Wraith did so. She quickly looked away.
Please don't come, please don't come, please don't-
"Ah, there you are."
Shit!
Just once, she wanted a quiet night to herself. Granted, the bar wasn't exactly quiet (with a name like Titty Fall, how could it be?), but it was still more quiet than the Apex Games. And certainly more quiet than Elliot "Mirage" Witt, with his big, smiling, ever opening mouth. The type of mouth that opened and closed like a bloody fish, only with less intelligent things to say.
"Say," said her squad member as he sat on the stool next to her. "Is that your third drink this evening?"
"Second." She took another sip.
"Oh. Okay." He took a sip of his own – she wasn't sure about the name. Probably as stupid as the person drinking it.
Aw, you don't mean that.
For the last time, fuck off.
"Um, Wraith?"
"Hmm?"
See? He cares.
"You alright?"
"Huh?" She looked at him. "What?"
"Oh, you've got the whole wide-eyed thing going on."
"And?"
"Well, when that happens, usually it means you're about to kill someone, or someone's about to kill you, or-"
"Where's Pathfinder?" she interrupted.
Coward.
"I dunno. Pathfinding."
"Pathfinding?"
"I dunno, what the heck do robots get up to after hours?"
"Well, they probably…the hell?"
The hell?
"What hell?" Elliot asked.
Wraith nodded over his shoulder. The twat looked round, and saw what his squad mate was seeing. Another Mirage. A mirage, if you wanted to use the correct terminology. One who was chatting it up with one of the bar's less cultured patrons.
"Oh, that," he said. "Figured I'd stone two birds with…um…"
"Yes?"
"Sorry, sounded wittier in my head."
"Yeah, I bet." She finished off the kalaus and nodded to the W-TER. "Um, do you get…ah…"
"Yes?"
"Like, she must feel something, but if someone's with your hologram, do you…y'know…"
"What? Heck no."
"Oh."
Perv, the voice whispered.
"Then why do it?" Wraith asked.
"Hey, I'm the richest…"
"Debatable."
"Most fabulous guy…"
"Highly debatable."
"This side of the Frontier," he said. "Me spreading the love around, it ain't for me. It's a gift for all the fine ladies of the galaxy."
"Yeah, right now, I'm not feeling any luckier," Wraith said.
"Said fine ladies."
The barb actually did more barbing than she thought it would. Taking a sip of the kalus, she wondered why.
You have to ask?
She did, actually.
Well, it's simple. The two of you are killers. And as we both know, killing people and not being killed in turn is a very bonding experience.
Um, no it isn't, Wraith shot back.
As someone who's been inside your head and kept you alive, I beg to differ.
"Um, Wraith?"
We're not close, you twat.
Oh sure. Not close. Next time you go into the blood arena, just leave me behind. See how well you do?
"Wraith?"
You're a bitch, you know that?
I object to that, making assumptions about the gender of the voice inside your head.
Seriously?!
"Um, yeah," Elliot said. He began to get up. "You've got the whole glazed look, staring into people's souls, all round psychopath thing going on, so I'm going to go, um…"
Last chance, the voice whispered.
"And, like, chill out, and-
Ask him!
"So, guess I'll see you tomorrow for target practice…"
Ask him ask him ask him ask him ask him ask him ask him ask him!
"So, like, if you're not going to bend over and discomfort your body before stealing my soul, just, I dunno, blink or something and-"
"Sure," Wraith said.
"Sure what?"
"Huh?"
"Like, sure you'll see me tomorrow, or sure you won't go all soul stealer on me?"
"Um…both?"
"Great." He took another sip of his beer. "I mean, I guess if you were going to steal my soul, you'd say that you won't and-"
"I'd never steal your soul."
Oh how romantic!
Wraith got to her feet. Elliot raised an eyebrow. Somewhere, a jukebox (it was the Frontier, of course there was a jukebox) began blaring out some obnoxious song about a long starship going into a black hole.
"I mean, like, I…"
Go in for the kill! Do it! Do ittttt!
"Like, I'm gonna…go," Wraith said.
What?
"Like, check out the sights and sounds of Desponia, and um…"
"Kill someone?"
"Yeah, kill someone." She forced a smile. "Killing is what I do, right?"
"Um, yeah, sure. Killing. Just don't steal anyone's soul."
"Yeah…no soul stealing."
Oh for the love of…
Wraith kept herself in place as Elliot headed over the room. The girl with his hologram was so wasted that she didn't notice it blink out, to be replaced with the real deal. She watched the two of them head upstairs together, and she found herself thinking of hangovers, pills, and a whole lot of bullets.
You're a wimp, you know that?
And you're an annoying cunt.
Actually, I'm not. I'm a voice in your head whispering to the person who actually does have a cunt, who refuses to ever-
Alright, conversation over.
To her surprise, the voice actually did shut up. Which suited her just fine. Of course, maybe it was the kalus finally kicking in, but whatever. She staggered out of the bar – she'd told Mirage she'd kill someone. Might as well make good on her promise, even if that someone might as well be her to erase the embarrassing memories of tonight.
That, or begin puking her guts out as the kalus really began to kick in.
One of those things.
