Detailing rims wasn't Ray's favourite aspect of working as an automotive painter, but it paid the bills... mostly. He saw his job as a plus - not only did he get to see and work on some slick rides, but it was honest employment.

"Don't you think it would be a good idea if you got some more... stable work?" Gyroloop had asked during one of his routine visits to Ray's flat. "Your 'side hustle' worries me, Ray..."

"Can't teach an old dog new tricks, Loops." In retrospect, his job at Low West Detail was a total contradiction to his train of thought months prior.

Guess I should give the boy more credit.

Ray put his tools down and stood up. "Off for 15," he called out to his coworkers in the garage, most of whom were also robots.

"Yup," one of them replied. The rest continued what they were doing.

He walked over to the coat rack beside the office door and picked up his jacket. Temperature never bothered him, but a paint-stained tanktop with black trousers wasn't the hottest look in town. The coat helped cover a bit his mess - and it was where he kept his product.

Ray trusted his coworkers not to snoop around in his clothes. Even if they did, they weren't the type to snitch.

His meetup was only a couple blocks away. Normally, meeting so close to his workplace was a sketchy idea, but Miyatama's Threshers had been very active in the last handful of days. If he needed to fall back on his garage for backup, he wouldn't have far to run.

Thankfully, it was a fairly off-beat part of the city. Automotive districts were notoriously quiet, seeing as most citizens didn't own cars, and there were far better places to get your ride tuned up. But his manager had connections - just enough to keep the business afloat and not attract too much unwanted attention.

Across the street, Ray spotted the meeting destination. It was just beside the corner of a tire shop where the building curved to make a small, discreet alcove next to the street. No windows on that side of the building, either; he was confident the owners of the shop didn't know that Ray was using it for unscrupulous purposes.

His client was there, as expected - a cloaked figure who went under the street name Double. Half of his face was mechanized, leaving him with an imposing, borderline terrifying glare, but Ray knew better.

Most clients wanted something to get amped up. Double was different.

"'Sup." Ray walked into the alcove, leaning against the wall opposite Double.

The cloaked figure looked up, revealing the cyborg's familiar, grotesque visage.

"'Sup," Double mimicked. His voice was low and gruff like Ray's, but with a scratchy, pained undertone.

They both knew the drill. Ray pulled out a tiny plastic pouch containing 10 blue and white pills, and Double pulled out a bundle of 20,000 srakna. After confirming nobody else was around, they exchanged items.

"It's bad today. Fuckin' bad," Double groaned. "I can't even touch it. Burns like shit." He raised his hand up to his face, hovering his fingers over the transition from flesh to metal that spanned his entire face.

"You can't get it fixed?" Ray asked. "Damn well know you got the cash for it."

"Not enough. They want seven figures for an emergency operation on this."

"Not even some back alley dickhead willing to tear that thing off for a few hits? I hear the Threshers are open for business."

"Fuck off." Double paused for a moment, tapping the ground with his foot. "I'd take a chance on it, but I think it's infected. The pain's only been getting worse, and it's starting to swell, too. I'd rather go out like this than have some slimy cunt rip it off and have half my skull exposed, covered in rotting tissue and pus dripping down my chin."

Ray pulled out a carton of cigarettes and took two out. "Cig?" he asked, offering one to Double.

"Yeah." Double took it and put the end in his mouth.

Ray pocketed the carton, took out his lighter, and lit them both up. He took a long drag, exhaling it up into the air.

Double took it between his fingers, occasionally puffing on it. "Not much left for me. No family. No life expectancy. Just waiting to die."

"Nothing left to lose," Ray commented.

"Yeah."

"Then own it."

Double looked up, straight into Ray's screen.

"You heard me. Don't pussy out. Go rob a bank. Fuck some hookers. Kill some son of a bitch you hate. Take control."

Double squinted, nodding his head and pursing his lips. "You're simple. Down to earth." He took another drag. "Maybe that's what I needed to hear."

Ray gestured to the pills he gave Double. "Got 10 days in there if you make 'em last. Go numb. Make the world your bitch. Wish I had that chance."

"What changed, Ray?"

"Hm?"

"You got all the chances you need. I thought you'd be the one following that advice before anyone else."

Ray let out a long, smoky exhale up into the air. "Dunno. I met someone."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Boyfriend. Straight edge, clean cut guy. Doesn't like my distribution gig. Told him "can't teach an old dog new tricks,"" Ray explained. He tossed his dart onto the ground and ground it up with his shoe. "Maybe I was wrong. Been doing some thinking. Might ease out of the game."

"That's what you meant by 10 days." Double poked the air in front of Ray. "You're not gonna deal anymore."

"Dunno. Got a lot to think about."

Double dropped his cig and put it out. "I ain't gonna tell you how to live your life. But if you're out when this is gone, I'm done." He shook the baggie of pills.

Ray put his hands in his pockets. "What would you do?"

"In my 10 days?"

"Yeh."

The flesh side of Double's face smiled. "Got a few people I wouldn't mind killing. The greedy skidmarks who want millions of srakna to fix me, maybe. Not sure. I'd have to think on it."

"If you want guns, call me. In or out of the game, don't care - keep it between us."

Double let out a quiet laugh before wincing in pain. "I'll miss you, you big fuck. It's been good."

"Don't get all sappy, motherfucker. You're not gone yet."

"Fine."

"Gotta get back to work." Ray hesitated for a moment. "It has been good, Dubs." He began walking across the street.

"Thanks," Double said.

Ray raised a hand in acknowledgment.