Fight Palace Blues

The stimulant hit hard. Verenne's body spasmed. Her eyes snapped open, blinked at brightness, recognized the source. Usually she was using those lights to work by, not lying under them.

A muffled roar signaled a take-down.

She shot upright.

Sanle leered at her. Lonnie, cleaning his tools, shrugged. Half-apologetically. Her right hand lay in his off-dish.

Shitfuckdamn! Sanle was collecting on her debt! She confronted the shining, chrome-plated replacement hand, flexed her fingers.

"You're up in ten." Sanle smirked. "Against Destroyella."

Verenne jerked. Destroyella was full cyborg.

No choice. No chance.

But familiar resolve: this, too, she would survive.