Rosie slept for a few hours, stretched out on a couch. Brandon woke her. “You can rest but it’s one hell of view you're missing.” From the south facing glass the sun began to rise into the endless blue. Forests shifting from black to red. Lines of shimmering water, shadows stretching across the open ground.

“Come on, there’s something I think you might like.” After sharing a coffee and an over long embrace with Lady Luck, Rosie found herself back on the ground. Milling through the massing crowds of people.

They found Charlie at a nearby food stand, throwing back coffee and bowl after bowl of spicy noodles. Her relief came across instantly, only beaten by her hunger.

“The boys are on the way in.” Brandon shared her relief. “Took one alive, should be a decent bounty.”

“Good, we need the money.” Brandon went through his pockets, pulling out a small pouch of the clinking shapes and tossing it on the table. Charlie did the same. “Here, take this, go get kitted out.” He tossed Rosie the largest pouch, the one Charlie threw down.

“Take it where?” Rosie tried to hide the dozens of other questions the casual instruction brought to mind.

“Walk around the market, get yourself some kit, we’ll meet back here.” Brandon spoke in a relaxed tone, deliberately so. Charlie smiled over her third mug of coffee, letting Rosie know she had to handle this alone.

“Fine, I can do this.” Rosie’s words were for herself as she stood from the table and turned.

“Kitted out, kitted out.” Rosie whispered to herself, as if repeating the words would generate new information. She took a moment to stop, trying to squash the rising frustration. Sweet scents came with a bubbling hiss from her right.

“Five caps.” Rosie reached into her coat pocket, fumbling to undo the pouch and toss five of the shapes to the vendor. In return she took a fried light brown ring, dusted in white powder. She bit into the soft, still warm, ring chewing the fluffy sweetness and smiling. “Another?” Rosie nodded, her mouth full, and bought another. She ate it so fast that she almost swallowed the thin paper it came wrapped in.

Excitement began to overtake her nerves as Rosie took in the wakened marketplace around her. Music, punctuated by vendors shouting, filled the air. A stall of books drew her attention first, she wanted to stay longer, but she didn’t think kitted out included books.

The next stall sold clothing. All manner of bright colours, different shapes and textures. With things that didn’t look anywhere close to practical. Rosie noticed some items had little tags and numbers on them. Their value, she thought, realising she didn’t know how many caps she had. With enough sense not to count them openly, Rosie began subtly shifting the clinking caps from one pocket to the other, ten at a time. Two hundred and seventy, she thought, quickly followed by the realisation that she couldn’t put that in any kind of context.

Rosie asked the price of the next dozen items that caught her eye. Spending the seventy caps on a pair of dark glasses with oval lenses to help with the sun and a small screwdriver set. Which she knew would be useful. And finally she picked out a crowbar, the exact same as the one she’d used when attacking the Overseer. This one however looked brand new, blued steel undamaged from years of use, as if it had just been made. It even had the branding symbol of H and H still clearly visible. The sound of an arrogant face breaking came to mind as she swung the crowbar back and forth. A tool and a weapon, she thought, feeling confident in her purchase.

The next section of the market had been devoted to food, mostly meat. Skinned animals hung from hooks, larger beasts laid out in thick cuts, their heads retained and used to identify the meat below. She moved quickly through, not thinking about food.

The next section looked familiar, a mix of broken and fixed junk. Her eyes lingered on the strange shapes, working out the purpose of each one. Things for cooking and purifying water, radios, heating elements, lighting, and more besides.

Rosie found herself in front of a stall selling spares for robots, thankfully none of them active. Metal arms and legs glinted in the sun, all laid out in increasing sizes. The system began cataloguing them as Rosie tried to ignore it, drawn by a man who started arguing with the trader.

“Come on, these are brand new spares.” Rosie looked at the crate in the older man’s hands. Circular orbs housing lenses on the end of articulated stalks. Prehensile arms sporting a variety of claws and saw blades. “Hundred caps each or a thousand of the box.” The trader seemed unimpressed.

“Hey I’ll buy one.” Rosie interjected, taking one of the orbs and looking into it. If the information from the schematics in her vision were right, this could be very useful.

“See. A woman with an eye for a bargain.” The older man smiled at her but Rosie didn’t get the joke right away.

“Because this is an eye right?” Rosie held up the articulated stalk.

“Yeah…that’s right.” The older man’s flat tone suggested that much should have been obvious. The older man stepped closer to her, the scent of alcohol and coffee on him. “That’s from an old Mr Helpful bot, have you seen them before?”

“Yeah, all the time.” Rosie answered quickly, trying to sell the lie. The older man looked her in the eyes, intently, it made her uncomfortable. “Fine weather for winter.”

“Yes, it’s nice.” Rosie answered. He held her gaze for a moment then grabbed for her left arm so fast she couldn’t get away. She felt his hand make contact with the device and he didn’t seem surprised. Rosie plucked a thorn from her waist, slashing out against the leather sleeve of the man’s long coat. The scalpel sharp blade and the force of her movement cut through the tan leather, yet glanced off the metal rings hidden underneath.

“Rosie! It’s ok—” The older man knew her name, she had no idea how, and felt too scared to find out.

“My name’s Rachel, get away from me!” Rosie whirled and darted through the crowds.

“No wait! I’m a friend!” The older man protested as she slipped unnoticed into the nearest shadowed alley. “Wait! Shit, where’d she go…fuck!”

Rosie hid while the man who knew her name looked for her. His manner seemed genuinely disappointed. Who is he, Rosie thought. She followed him back to the stand and box of robotic eyes and arms. Careful not to draw the attention of the man who knew her name.

“She cut you?” The trader asked

“No, my own damn fault, spooking her like that.” The older man banged on the table in frustration, sending out a loud rattle of metal. “Here.” The older man scrawled a note and tore it from a pad. “If she comes back give her this.” The older man handed over the note. “And this…and these.”

Sticking to what little shadows she could find in the morning marketplace, Rosie followed the man who knew her name. He still looked for her, stopping another red head, then a different young woman. His expression growing more worried each time. She started to see his destination, heading back to the Tower. Who is he, she thought again, beginning to pick apart what he’d said.

Back at the stall Rosie waited for the trader to finish up with another customer arguing over the cost of broken junk.

“Hi, I was just here…” He remembered her, and didn’t hide his annoyance.

“Take this, it’s paid for. Fine reward for slashing a man. Take it and go before I call a deputy.” Rosie didn’t say anything, she just took the heavy pack and left. Sitting at a table in the corner of a quiet courtyard brought a moment of calm. Inside the pack Rosie found the robotic eyes and arms she’d been looking at, folded up neatly. A pouch of caps and a bottle of brown liquid, painted with a red R, and a note.

‘Rosie, I’m a friend of John’s. I want to help you. Take this note to the Tower and show it to Lady Luck. Robco.’

A few minutes later Rosie met back up with Brandon. “Someone recognised me.” The odd nature of her words drew Brandon from his notebook as she gave him something else to read. “This too.” Bot parts and whiskey brought a confused expression.

“We can go back, but I’m guessing it’s the same offer you turned down.” Brandon smiled. “Which I knew you’d do.”

“How did you know?” Rosie didn’t even know till she heard it.

“The wolf cannot live amongst the sheep.” Rosie didn’t understand.

“You’re one of us not one them.” Rosie never felt like an us before, not with anyone except John. “First thing Charlie told me about you, she said you’re a fighter. There you were hole in your foot, scalp scraped down to the bone and your arm damn near cut off, still trying to get up.” Rosie saw the admiration she’d hoped to see but not for something she didn’t even remember. “The thing about being a fighter is we don’t really do well without something to fight.” Brandon’s keen insight brought a moment of clarity to Rosie as she looked out over the bustling marketplace.

For as long as she could remember Rosie had fought. First against the woman supposed to be her mother. Living with an addict twice your size in cramped corners meant fighting to stay safe every day. After that her fight had been to get out, to avoid detection as she planned.

The last month had been a series of fights. First to make it to the toilet unaided, then to walk, to run, to learn everything she could. All to get to John, and now she’d done that and been left unable to get what she wanted. Rosie felt a hand on top of hers as Brandon reached over.

“Don’t worry, we’ve got plenty to fight against.” Rosie looked out over the people around her. A blonde woman, a little younger than her, serving food, laughing and joking with an old couple. Traders light heartedly bickering over prices. Others cooking food in steaming and spitting pans. No one here has to fight for anything, she thought. All except Brandon, whose company she felt grateful for.