The couch creaked as Wang stirred awake, groaning softly under his breath. His new cybernetic arm felt stiff and awkward in the early morning light, like it didn't quite belong to him yet. His head throbbed—either from the heat, the trauma, or just how damn uncomfortable that couch was. The apartment smelled like stale beer, gun oil, and body sweat. A door creaked open. He blinked, eyes adjusting to the sliver of light pouring from the bedroom. Cass stepped out. She was bare, save for a ragged white towel draped casually over one shoulder, barely hanging there. It didn't do much to cover her—not that she gave a fuck. Her skin was sun-bronzed from years in the outback, lean with muscle but soft in all the places that mattered. Her huge melons swayed slightly with each step, firm and natural, unbothered by gravity or modesty. Scars ran across her left rib and lower hip—stories written in flesh from jobs that went sideways. Wang blinked, his face flushing. He tried to look away. Failed.
"Morning, sunshine," Cass grunted, not even glancing his way. Her voice was hoarse from either sleep or cigarettes.
"Hope the couch didn't fuckin' kill you."
"I've slept on worse," Wang muttered, pulling a dirty blanket higher to hide the involuntary rise under his pants. Cass cracked her neck, then rummaged through a pile of clothes on the floor. She slipped on a pair of faded black panties, then pulled up worn camo cargo pants that hung low on her hips. She didn't bother with a bra—just grabbed a loose white tank and tugged it over her head, letting her breasts settle freely underneath. No fucks given. She walked to the kitchenette and yanked open a mini-fridge that looked like it'd been looted during a riot. Inside: three beers, a hot sauce bottle, and a half-eaten sausage roll in a baggie. She grabbed two beers.
PSSHHHHT.
The first can cracked open with a hiss. She tossed the second one toward Wang, who barely caught it with his cybernetic hand.
"You drink this early?" he asked, looking at the can like it was a landmine.
"It's not early if you never went to sleep properly," Cass muttered, slumping down into the battered recliner opposite the couch. She kicked her feet up on the coffee table and took a long swig.
"Besides. Nothing in this fuckin' hellhole is worth stayin' sober for." Wang opened his can and took a sip. It was warm, cheap, and flat. Tasted like shit. He drank it anyway.
"So what now?" he asked after a beat, wiping foam from his lips. Cass scratched the back of her head, her hair messy and wild.
"You lay low. Don't be seen. I've still got contacts in the eastern routes—slavers mostly, but one or two might owe me."
"Right. And what about you?" She looked at him then. Serious, eyes narrowed just a bit. "I'm savin' up."
"For what? Another gun? Better boots?" She smirked without humor.
"Fake Melbourne citizenship ID." Wang blinked.
"Wait, that's real?"
"Oh yeah," she said, dragging on a half-burnt cigarette she pulled from a tray.
"It's the only proper city left. The only place on this piss-stained continent where you can walk around without a number on your back or a bounty on your head."
"I thought Melbourne was locked down tight. Only purebloods and guards allowed in." Cass blew smoke through her nose.
"That's the official story. Truth is, you got enough coin and know the right scumbag, you can buy your way in. Get an ID, new name, clean record. Live like a real fuckin' person." Wang stared at her.
"And that's your goal? Start over?" She nodded slowly.
"Yeah. Get out of the game. I'm tired of living off blood money. Tired of sleeping with one eye open. I wanna go somewhere… fuck, anywhere… where I can take a shower without my gun pointed at the curtain."
Wang took a long sip, thinking. "And how close are you?"
"Closer than I was a year ago. But still got a way to go. ID costs twenty-five grand, minimum. I got about eighteen stashed. One more big job, and I'm set."
Wang leaned forward. "And what about me?"
She raised an eyebrow. "What about you?"
"I mean, if you're planning to disappear into Melbourne, what happens to the guy you dragged through the desert? You just leave me on the couch?" Cass looked at him for a long moment, then shrugged.
"Depends. You gonna be dead weight or useful?"
"I saved your ass at that gas station."
"And I paid you back. You got a shiny new arm now, don't ya?" Wang smirked.
"Still feels like shit." Cass took another swig. "Then maybe you oughta make it worth somethin'."
A beat passed. The two of them stared at each other over warm beer and dusty sunlight pouring through broken blinds.
"You think you could get me one too?" Wang asked suddenly.
"A fake ID?"
"Yeah. Into Melbourne. Start clean." She laughed once—dry, bitter.
"You? They'd scan that big fuckin' 'M' on your neck the moment you stepped through a checkpoint. You're branded."
"I'll cover it. Get it removed."
"It's laser-etched, dumbass. You'd have to flay your own fuckin' neck." Wang rubbed at the scar unconsciously. Cass exhaled.
"Maybe. If you stick with me, keep quiet, keep your dick in your pants, and help me score the next job… maybe I'll put in a word. But you better be ready for some real dirty work."
Wang met her gaze. "After everything I've been through, I don't give a shit anymore." Cass leaned back in her chair, staring at the ceiling.
"Good. Because the kind of people who sell those IDs? They'll cut off your hands if they even think you're snitchin'. And I ain't losing another partner 'cause he got cold feet."
Wang took another sip, then cracked a smile.
"Guess I'll start warming up then." Cass let out a laugh—genuine this time, if only a little.
"Fuck me," she said, shaking her head.
"You're insane."
"You picked me."
"No," she said, finishing her beer and crushing the can. "I caught you."
Q: Do you clean your room often?