Mardock Scramble

him. The fire raged away, centered on the girl, and there was nowhere for Shell to run. Her blackened fingers were around his throat, plastering it with her charred fingerprints.

Shell screamed. More flames erupted inside the girl, and she squeezed down on his throat with a grip that was gentle but strong, so strong.

?

Shell bounced up from the bed and realized that there was something on his neck, constricting him, strangling him. He tried to get it off, but his actions were only making things worse.

Then he realized the truth: he was trying to strangle himself with his own hands.

His face convulsed in a bitter smile. His whole body was drenched in sweat.

He took off his Chameleon Sunglasses, now shining like moonlight, and placed his Boston bag on the floor.

He realized that he was desperately thirsty and went into the bathroom to wash his face and drink some water.

As he returned to the bedroom he noticed a ringing noise. Not the hotel room phone. Shell jumped for his jacket and scrambled for his cell phone, which he found after a couple seconds’ fumbling. “Boiled?”

–Yes.

That sturdy voice. Shell smiled and put his sunglasses back on.

“I’ve just had the worst dream. Like a bad trip. A girl was on fire and she tried to strangle me,” Shell said, relieved that help was now at hand. “Have you prepared everything as I asked you? I’m going to head upstream into a different state. Once I’ve crossed the state borders, I’m a new person. I’ll play it steady from now on. I’ll use my money to set up a legit business. No more gambling for me. That’s all over.”

–I’ve received a new commission from OctoberCorp. I need to explain it to you clearly. On top of that—

“What are you talking about, Boiled? Who cares about OctoberCorp anymore? I’m leaving this place, saying goodbye forever to the whole damn city. I’m heading back to my roots.”

Boiled considered this in silence for a minute before answering.

–I thought that you were born in this city, on the East Side.

“What? Forget about that for now. Home is wherever I hang my hat. If I succeed there, that’s where my roots are. I don’t know where to, but I’m heading back home now. And I’m grateful to you, Boiled, I really am. If you hadn’t been there for me, that girl would have crushed me. Strangled me with her bare hands. I really am grateful. You’re a true friend.”

–Is that right?

“It is! My only real friend. You’re my rock—there’s no one I can rely on quite like you. You’ve saved my neck so many times. Let’s stay in touch. Right, Boiled?”

–The PIs for the other side are looking for you right now. We’ve had to publish your rough location, so they’re most probably already in your area. Try not to make yourself too conspicuous. It’s probably best you wait until dawn—any ships leaving your area may be tailed. Everything changes if they find you.

Shell’s brow furrowed, as if he didn’t quite understand Boiled’s meaning. “Are you saying you’ve been feeding them information?”

–Information Disclosure. Unless we publicly share certain stipulated pieces of information, our opposing case won’t be approved. I wouldn’t be able to work for you.

Shell frowned, rubbing his forehead with his other hand.

“I’ve got a bit of a headache, and I don’t think I’m following you. Here I am telling you that you’re a valued friend to me, one I know would never betray me…”

Boiled was silent again. This time the pause was a long one. Shell thought he could hear the faintest of murmuring from the other side of the phone, but then suddenly the line was cut off. Shell looked at his cell phone with an uneasy expression.

The phone rang again. Surprised, Shell put it to his ear. “Boiled? What are you playing at?”

–I don’t want to die.

It was the voice of a girl. Shell stopped breathing. He felt as if the blood had frozen in his veins.

–But still you kill me.

Shell’s mouth was agape and his heart beat furiously.

The image of the girl in flames came rushing back. The girl who took his precious chips, her face ablaze. Her name too flamed back into his mind.

There was a noise at his ear that gradually came together in the form of a man’s voice.

–Mr. Shell…

It was Boiled. Tears of relief flooded Shell’s eyes. “What was that voice just then? Was it trying to scare me?”

–You’re listening in on this line, aren’t you, Oeufcoque? You’re near Shell right now, right?

“What? What’s that? God damn it, I’m asking you a question, Boiled, answer me!”

–I’ll take care of you, Oeufcoque. Go and retrieve your bait. Then I’ll appear. That’s how we’ll do this.

Shell shook his head. The area at the back of his head and neck throbbed with pain.

–Very well, Boiled. We’ll secure Shell’s person from our side.

A new voice echoed down the line, one that Shell had never heard before, and he was hit with another bolt of fear. His whole body was now drenched in his own cold sweat.

–We’ve already finished evacuating the other guests from the hotel. We are going to solve this case according to official procedure. In order to do so we need to ensure that Shell remains safe. We have no desire to fight with you, Boiled.

–We are just tools, Oeufcoque, born into this world in order to create nihility. You’re a self-aware tool, and I’m a human who wants to become a gun. Even your current user really wants to be able to use you to kill. She just wants to do so legally, that’s all.

–Stop talking such garbage, Boiled. What are you hoping to achieve by killing Shell? What use is there in massacring everyone in sight? What will be born of that?

Shell frowned.

–It’s not my job to be concerned about what may or may not be born, Oeufcoque.

–So you’re throwing your lot in with OctoberCorp, are you? That’s your choice, is it, Boiled?

“Boiled! Are you planning to kill me? You are, aren’t you? You’re planning to kill me!”

–Mr. Shell. I really do think we would have worked well together. We could have been far more than just patron and client…

Shell’s face twisted. Boiled continued in his characteristic whispering tones.

–It’s a shame that circumstances have changed.

Then there was another noise—a number of sounds screeching together. The phone went dead.

?

Shell stood rooted to the spot, the lenses in his Chameleon Sunglasses changing from pale blue to stormy black. Everything was unreal, a dream, but then Shell snapped to and snatched up his Boston bag and checked its side pocket for the reassuring feel of cold steel.

He pulled his automatic handgun out, not even bothering to check the magazine before pressing it down