Jenkin twirled the bottle in her flesh hand, the magnetised slide that ran out from the wrist of the other simultaneously spinning the cocktail shaker. As she slid the bottle across the barback to its home position, she upended the shaker into the iced glass, pouring with a flourish before sliding it down the bar, to stop exactly in front of the customer who had ordered the drink.
The next few drinks were mundane, and the magnetic slide returned to its home position just inside her left wrist, ready for its next use – be that the next cocktail, ensuring her safety knife couldn’t be taken from her as she walked home, or, really, anything else that she might need not to drop. Like cooking tools. That was the main reason she’d looked at the implant to begin with – hard to cook when you’re so clumsy everything winds up on the floor.
The monofibre that ran through it could be adjusted to ensure a variety of items stuck, as required. She didn’t really get how it worked, but the settings were adjustable from the eyeware that took instruction from her brain synapses, somehow. It worked, was the main point, and she had gone from scrabbling for jobs to pay rent on a oneroom where everything – kitchen, bed, toilet and stand-up shower – were in one tiny space without any doors, and which was about 8 paces wall to wall, to this job which, between pay and tips for the fancy moves, paid for a proper threeroom, meaning a bedroom, bathroom, and living room/kitchenette, all separated with doors. It was no palace, but it was hers as long as the rent was paid on time.
Continue reading “Prompt Short Story: Touched – Promises, Promises”
Tanice automatically checked the spare magazines as she slotted them into the holders at the sides of her belt. The rounds, etched with magic, glowed faintly red. Next, the guns. She tested the bolt slide, the firing action, the grip. She knew these guns as well as – perhaps even better than – the back of her own hand. She could strip, oil, and assemble them with her eyes closed. And she did. Often. But today was too important for that. Today wasn’t a day for tricks and gimmicks. Today was her first mission.
She held still as she heard faint footsteps enter the room. She knew that step. “Mother.”
“Daughter,” came the reply.
Tanice turned, sliding her guns smoothly into their holsters, and looked into a face that was the spitting image of her own. Dark eyes, surrounded by smooth dark skin. A mouth, overfull, with the hint of a smile always in one corner. The biggest difference between them were the scars. Her mother held the results of many battles, including the raking claws of a shapeshifter across one sculpted cheekbone.
Her mother sighed, and Tanice braced herself.
Continue reading “Prompt Short Story: Touched – The Test”
The scent of spice and flowers hit her as she wrenched open the door, “Will you quit bangin! Whaddya want?”
The elf bowed low, his tight tunic, and tighter trousers, almost creaking with the strain, “Madame Reval, such an honour to greet you. As my apology for disturbing you, please accept these tokens,” he thrust forward a bouquet of wildflowers, and a small tin of magically-enhanced cooking spice, his clothes shimmering in the twilight. “The spice is fully legal and of the non-addictive variety, I assure you, although I cannot promise no addiction to your cooking once sprinkled with it.”
Even the formidable Madame Reval was no match for the charm of the elf before her. She offered a clumsy curtsy, “You’re right kind, sir. May I ask yer name and yer business here?”
Continue reading “Prompt Short Story: Precognition”
The mage sighed and ran her fingers back through her hair, “Helluvan ask you got here. Y’know most mages’d laugh you right out their rooms – those as wouldn’t just call the police on you fer askin.”
The clent nodded, “I know how big – and how dangerous, and illegal – this is. I heard you were the sort to hear a body out before making a decision. Hear me, and if you choose to kick me out or call the cops then I’ll accept it. But if you agree, I can pay more than you’d make in a lifetime of magicking.”
“That’s a fair bit, my services ain’t cheap,” the mage said, one eyebrow raised as she motioned around the richly appointed room.
Even if this was just the showroom, and she spent the rest of her time in a hovel, the money spent on the lush carpeting, the decoration, even the ceiling lights, was nothing to sneeze at.
Continue reading “Prompt Short Story: Touched – Chances”
The assassin hooked their fingers around the windowsill, testing the strength of the treated synwood, their other fingers and bare toes pressed firmly into the smooth wall, attached by no more than a thin instaweld mesh.
Carefully they moved their weight up, calculations flying at light-speed through the tech in their head, transferring to their limbs faster than the speed of thought, as the second hand joined the first and shifted their body to the left of the window, balancing as they removed a toolkit from their belt.
They opened the kit with a quick tug of their teeth, letting it dangle from their mouth as their right hand reached in and removed a small, thin stick, topped by a chip barely visible to the naked eye.
The assassin pressed this against the window, on the exact spot where the magitech lock held the window closed on the inside.
Continue reading “Prompt Short Story: Touched – Cold”