Henry.

Mercy followed behind Henry, her eyes studying his features from behind. She felt like his name was being whispered in the dark forgotten corners of her memory. In the space just before a hazy thought is cleared from neurons. Although he was doing a good job of pretending to walk casually, she could see him glancing around, occasionally at her. 

Why is he on edge? Is it because of me? Or is it…

Her eyes darted between buildings, picking out places that people could hide. Idle alleyways. The caved-in upper stories of derelict buildings. She was beginning to consider getting a helmet like Henry’s.

“So, how long have you been here?” Mercy jumped a little in her skin.

“Is that important for you to know?” Looking back to Henry, she saw him glancing over his shoulder while they walked.

“It would give me a better idea of how familiar you are with the area.”

“Wouldn’t it be better for you to know what areas I’ve lived in?” Their eyes met again. 

Did he misspeak or is he trying to get into my business?

“Yeah. Sure. Where you been living?”

“Near the old harbor.”

“That’s a bit away from here. Why’d you decide to work here?” He looked ahead and rounded a corner while Mercy followed suit.

“Because I…” She lingered on the pause. 

Dammit, I had a reason! What was it? I’ve gotta say something or it’s gonna be suspicious.

“I…I want to get away from there.”

“Syndicate troubles?” 

“No… just… not a pleasant place to live.” It was an abandoned office building. Its glass facade had been obliterated, leaving several sections exposed to the elements. A few areas were better protected, but many were already claimed by squatters. When Mercy first moved in, they had been friendly, offering to share what they could. It helped her get on her feet and made it feel more like home. Now they avoided her and wouldn’t let her stay in the protected sections anymore.

Not that I had a better place to go.

“Any idea where and when you’re gonna move?”

“I hadn’t gotten that far. I wasn’t expecting to be hired and start working the day I applied.” Henry nodded.

“Yeah, Gerry can be a bit enthusiastic about getting new hires in the field.” Mercy shivered as she thought about Gerald’s appearance.

“Do you not get many hires?” Henry shrugged.

“I think he more just wants to see how well they do. If they can handle a few patrols and don’t want to leave, then why stall the onboarding?”

“So we’re on patrol?”

“Sort of. Like I mentioned, we’re meeting with the rest of the team first. Then, we’ll go from there.” There was a long stint of silence as the two continued walking. “Do… do you have any questions about the job or… anything?”

“We get bounties. We get whoever’s on them. We turn them in and get our reward. Am I missing something?”

“You mostly got it but we don’t do “all or nothing” with the rewards.” They rounded another corner, finding themselves in a much more populated area of the neutral district. “Since we work for an outfit, we submit under the outfit name as well. The outfit takes a cut and then I divvy out the rest.” He turned to her again. “Don’t worry, I won’t stiff you on pay. I always give the lion’s share to whoever bagged the bounty, but a cut is shared by everyone in the group.”

“Woah, excuse me?!” She reached up to grab Henry’s shoulder so he’d stop and turn around. He stumbled a little bit before righting himself. Mercy could see he was surprised through his helmet’s visor. “I don’t remember agreeing to that in the hiring process.” 

“It’s how we run things in this patrol. Means that when something comes up for someone, they aren’t worried about money troubles.”

“Yeah, well, count me out. I was fine with the outfit taking a cut since they gave me equipment to use, but I’m not splitting more than that.” Henry crossed his arms and glared down at her. “What?! I’m not expecting you guys to split with me either.” 

“What if you get sick or injured?”

“Then tough shit. I’m here for my pay and no one else’s because no one else is gonna pay for me.” Henry stood there with his arms crossed, but he wasn’t glaring at her anymore. Mercy could see the gears turning in his head as his eyes studied her. They stood there, silently staring at each other as people walked around them.

“You’ve been… on your own for a while, huh?” 

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” 

“How old were you when you started living by yourself?”

Why does he want to know that?

“That’s none of your business.”

“Unfortunately, your behavior in this patrol is my business, so work with me.” 

“Look, as far as I’m concerned, you and everyone in this patrol is a stranger. Is it really unreasonable for me to not want to split the money I earned with people I don’t know?” Henry continued to stand towering over her, arms crossed. His eyes were trying to read her.

“And in this patrol, the expectation is that we take care of each other, stranger or not.”

“Well maybe things were nice and friendly here for you guys growing up, but where I came from, the people who tried that were either cons or the people getting conned.” Henry said nothing, clearly thinking through what he was going to say next. Mercy heard his breathing quietly crackle from his helmet’s speaker.

“Your application said you participated in the Montreal riots?”

“Yeah?”

“Based on the age you gave us, you would have been a kid when you started fighting.” 

“…”

“I’m not a history buff, but I know kids don’t end up fighting in combat unless things got dire enough that they had to fight to survive or felt they had nothing to lose.”

“…”

“So, which were you? Were you just trying to survive or did you already have nothing left?” The fur on the back of Mercy’s neck stood up as she remembered a destroyed room. It was dark, dusty and suffocating, yet somehow she was soaked to the bone. Shivering and terrified, she was surrounded by rubble with bloody, broken limbs sticking out, reaching towards her.

Mom? Dad? Who was it?

 “Mercy?” She felt a gentle hand on her shoulder and she immediately yanked away. Mercy could feel her hearts beating wildly. She was clearly hyperventilating. Mercy’s eyes darted looking for Henry, but he was nowhere in sight. “Where you going?” She realized Henry was behind her and spun around. He looked baffled.

 Why?! Why am I having an episode now?!

“I don’t want to talk about that. Can we just go?” Mercy knew he was judging her, trying to assess what was happening with her.

“I… Mercy, are… are you okay?” Mercy tightly squeezed the strap of the rifle case she had been carrying.

“I’m fine.”

“Mercy, that looked like… I don’t know how else to describe it. Like how some of the old folks get around here. Are you good to do this line of work?” Mercy took a moment to slow her breathing until she had calmed down enough to speak steadily.

“It’s the only thing I know how to do...” Mercy was expecting Henry to have an expression of pity, and she was sick of seeing it. She hated having people treat her delicately, or worse, like she was going to lose it at any second. Instead of that, he looked back at her with an expression unfamiliar to her. There was a look of sorrow in his eyes, but what spooked her more was the faint trace of understanding. Mercy turned her back to Henry so she couldn’t see his eyes anymore. “Can we please go?”

Mercy was beginning to feel hot as she stood there, knowing that Henry was staring at her. She wondered if anyone else was staring too as the two of them awkwardly remained silent. Grabbing the hood of her work jacket, Mercy lifted it over her head so she didn’t have to see any of them. She was beginning to shake as more time passed until finally she heard Henry walk forward until he was beside her.

“Okay.” He placed another hand gently on her shoulder. “We can stop chatting for now, but uh… the restaurant is the other direction.” Looking down at the sidewalk, Mercy turned around and they continued walking.

Mercy kept her head down, with Henry’s tail and boots remaining in sight while they walked. His fur seemed scruffy and rough. She wondered what some proper hair care would do for the man. The thought of him becoming a fluff ball after a good cleaning and some moisturizer made her smile for a little bit. The thoughts distracted her enough that when he came to a sudden stop, she accidentally bumped into him.

“Wh-why did you…?” Mercy looked up to see Henry was moving his arm as if to shield her and trying to get her behind him. 

Standing on her toes, Mercy was barely able to see over Henry’s shoulder, hoping to get a glimpse of whatever was spooking him. Looking down the sidewalk, almost everyone had either parted or walked across the street to make room for a human man being chased by what seemed to be a buff ferret man and a holographic roadrunner. As the three of them came barreling toward Henry and Mercy, he grabbed her by the waist and pushed the both of them side-by-side up against a nearby store window. As the trio raced past them, Mercy saw the Ferret was wearing a jacket for a different bounty hunting company. When they disappeared around a corner and no one else seemed to be coming, Henry removed his arm from shielding Mercy.

“Are we going to follow them?” She turned to look at Henry, who was shaking his head.

“First rule about corporate bounty work: no sniping. It causes bad blood between outfits.”

“No sniping? Aw man, that would’ve been an easy shot.” Mercy playfully motioned to the rifle case slung over her shoulder. Henry crossed his arms to appear less than amused.

“I know you’re joking, but rule two: no using guns in the neutral district unless you have no choice.” His tone reminded her of a parent trying not to laugh at something their child did that got them in trouble. Mercy was a bit surprised that anywhere in this city had a “no guns” rule.

“What does “no choice” mean here?”

“If you’re about to die or you’re stopping someone else from dying.” He turned to continue walking. “And it doesn’t mean you won’t get in trouble either.”

“Oh, and captain?” Henry paused and looked over his shoulder. “I let it slide earlier but I want to make something clear. Rule one for me: don’t touch me unless I say you can, clear?” He appeared perplexed until he seemed to realize what he did to prompt the statement.

“Sorry, I was just…”

“I can take care of myself. I’m not just going to stand gobsmacked in the middle of the sidewalk and let someone run into me.” She adjusted the rifle case. “So, no touchie. Clear?”

“Got it.” Henry nodded to indicate he wanted to keep going and the two of them proceeded onward.

It was a short trek to arrive at their destination. The restaurant was a cinder block building like all the others on the street, but painted a nice light sky blue. There was an awning that covered a small seating area with two old metal tables, each with a pair of old metal chairs. A small, decorative metal fence surrounded the area. There were tattered flags hanging from the awning at various stages of being sun-bleached. The tables looked clean, but they were so rusty that Mercy felt like she’d get tetanus from just sitting there. 

Unlike most of the other buildings they had passed, the door of this building was wooden. It had a small set of windows that were partially obscured by vinyl stickers that read “Winston’s.” A small sign dangled lower down from a hook that said in big, blocky letters “OPEN.” Without any hesitation, Henry pushed the door and it easily swung open. Mercy heard a metal bell jingle as the smell of blooming spices filled her nostrils. 

Following Henry inside, Mercy quickly took in her surroundings. The walls were painted the same as the outside of the building but they were covered in flags, photographs, instruments, paintings and murals. To her left along the wall were a series of haphazardly placed tables, with a few pushed together by a group wearing the same Street Sweeper, Inc. jackets. To her right was a countertop with battered swivel stools where a few patrons were sitting, currently turned to look at her and Henry. Behind the counter was a human man with a big toothy grin. He was an older human man with a gray beard and dreads. Despite the cooler weather, he was wearing a colorful button-up shirt, beige shorts and some well-loved sandals that stood out against his dark earth-toned skin. He didn’t seem to have a full left arm as Mercy spotted a little bit of skin poking out from under his shirt sleeve. As he caught sight of Henry, the man cheerfully called out.

“Hey, there’s Mista Moneybags!” The man’s voice was quite jovial, bouncing off the walls despite him not yelling or shouting.

“Not rich. Just apologizing.” Henry closed the door behind them.

“I like this tradition! You should apologize more in the future!” The man pointed to Mercy with what she realized was his malformed arm. “You apologize to her too?” 

“Uhh…”

“Yes.” Henry looked back at Mercy with disbelief. “For on the way here.” He rolled his eyes.

“Not an apology, but still, get her a bowl too.”

“Aye aye, Captain!” The man saluted with his malformed arm before turning to the kitchen window and talking to someone on the other side.