Listen, even Stalker-granted murder impulses have their limits. My limits happened to be a bunch of children down on their luck, abandoned by most health care institutions, and verging on poverty. This meant that the month I'd spent watching Amelia operate on them did a lot to mellow out my mood concerning the 'invaders' of our home.

I still spent every surgery lurking menacingly in Amelia's proverbial shadow, but I was getting relaxed enough about the whole arrangement that I mostly browsed the net. Or, if the surgery itself was 'easy' enough, I badgered Amelia with questions.

Like, you know, how it was possible for our prices to be on the rock bottom of what clinics offered and still turn a profit.

Apparently, other clinics spent a small fortune on drugs to stabilize patients, prevent cybernetic rejections, and promote post-surgery healing. When you could rely on eldritch hands to do all of that? Well, your overhead costs plummeted to nearly nothing. Our largest expenses were electricity, sedatives, and occasional transfusion, if even Amelia's awesome skill couldn't prevent the loss of blood.

Amelia even confessed to me that she felt bad for charging as much as she did. But if she went any lower, the prices would be suspicious enough to immediately paint us as the target of nearly every ripper clinic, along with their patients. After all, no one went that low unless they were planning to harvest your organs. And if they were actually sincere, then they needed to be taken out before they could fuck up the typical surgery rates for everyone else.

What I'm trying to say is, after that first month, I was about as calm as I was going to get until the mercenaries were wiped out.

That didn't stop me from going into a near panic attack when a chime alerted me to new patients entering the clinic, and the software linked to my eyes showed me a band of mercenaries strolling in.

We were in the surgery room at the moment, on the bottom floor, with two and a half walls separating us from them. My claws were already out before they could even cross the entrance hall to reach Tirgo.

Thankfully, that also meant I had several precious seconds to tamp down my reaction and remember to tap deeper into the cameras and microphones we had out front.

"Hello, how may I help you today?" Tirgo said in a monotone, his eyes never so much as flickering away from the lead merc. The only time I'd seen the man's face really light up since I'd gotten to know him was whenever he discussed web design, and clearly, he didn't think these particular mercs were there to indulge in his favorite topic.

"Mmm, heard ya got a nice setup here. Thought we'd check it out, ya know? Never know when you'll need a good ripper."

"Of course, sir. How may I help you today, specifically?"

"Talking to the ripper that runs this place would be a start. Really, shoulda come to check 'er out earlier. Someone moves into our neighborhood, we should probably get to know them better, ya know?"

At that point the merc was leaning against the counter. Thankfully, in anticipation of potential trouble, the clinic's front counter had a barrier separating our employee from any would-be aggressors. It was some kind of high-density, impact-resistant polymer glass, whose detailed specs I was unfamiliar with. All I did know was that the mercs were not getting through it quickly or easily.

They could push the issue and bluster deeper into the building of course. But I had my proverbial finger on the proverbial trigger, ready to shut and lock any doors between us and them if I had to buy us some time.

I glanced over at Amelia, frowning a little when I saw she was elbows deep inside some poor woman. The patient had some kind of an acute heart failure issue, and was getting a superior bioware replacement installed.

My 'wife' hadn't caught onto our new visitors yet, which was both a relief and a worry. I mean, if they were reasonable, I didn't want to bother her at all. If they weren't, well…

"I'm afraid that's not possible at the moment, sir. Ripper Quill is currently in surgery. She won't be able to accommodate you until she's done."

The merc stared blandly at Tirgo, leaned in… and smiled.

"Of course! Please don't think I'm unreasonable. I am here hoping for cooperation, not to cause trouble." He threw in another blinding smile, but somehow, I felt far worse than I had at the start of this little 'invasion.'

If he'd tried to force things or caused trouble, at least I'd know how to react.

—

I wasn't feeling perfect. That was unlikely to happen so long as the mercs were in the building. However, I freely admit that I was in a substantially improved mood with Amelia sitting next to me, our fingers entwined.

It also helped that our asses were firmly on the second floor.

"You should have told me when they arrived," she pouted.

"And you would have done…?"

Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

"Dunno. Something. Maybe I could have finished faster?"

"You rush surgeries now?"

That put a fine scowl on Amelia's face. She blinked away from the camera-provided stream of the mercs lounging about a private room, letting her green mechanical orbs meet mine. "No."

"Thought so. Therefore, no reason to interrupt."

"I don't get it. It's not like I'm the one meeting them or anything, so why are you so nervous about this?" she groused, but I could tell she was back to peeking at the camera feed already.

"Same reason you're spying. This could affect us significantly."

"And it has nothing to do with your tendency to overreact?"

"No." I thought I did a pretty good job keeping my voice and expression even. She looked at me in a way that suggested I didn't. "Look at the mercs, not at me?"

She scoffed, but she did. Just in time to see the door to the private room open and admit Melania Quill, 'fresh from surgery.'

To their credit, at least the mercs stood up to greet her? Honestly, now that I was looking at them more closely and more calmly, I was pretty sure they'd picked out the least offensive members.

A cute girl with a full figure and black hair featuring red highlights had been paired with a typically 'pretty boy' blond. The only one who didn't fit the relaxed vibe and the body stereotypes of a joytoy was the leader himself.

He was stout and had far too many scars crisscrossing his hands. A long trail of puckered scar tissue travelled from his nose, over his left eye, and well up his skull. Seeing as he was bald, I could trace that scar all the way to back of his head, whereupon it finally faded away.

"Ah! Ripper Quill, I assume?" Scar tried to be polite, offering a large smile and his hand to shake. Frankly, the smile did horrific things to his expression. He didn't look used to putting it on at all, which meant it was more of a grimace, and on his face, well…

I wouldn't have reacted well to him smiling at Amelia.

"That's true," Melania replied smoothly. "Pleasure to meet you, sir…?"

"Patch Six. Leader of the little operation not far from here. You might have seen our HQ?"

I froze, the name hitting me like a ton of bricks. From everything Amelia had dug up, I couldn't possibly miss the name of the mercenary captain running the entire bloody operation we were trying to decimate.

I had never seen his face, though. None of the photos had featured him. That meant I'd allowed a far more dangerous man than I'd realized to just waltz into Amelia's clinic and set up. My heart was beating a billion times a second, and —

Why is she not surprised?

The question and the sight of Amelia's relaxed face let my brain reboot itself.

Of course she wasn't surprised. She was the one who'd done all that research. Even if I was an idiot who missed the obvious threat, she wasn't.

Melania seemed to have as little forewarning as me, if the slight lift of her eyebrows was any indication. "Oh, wow. Well, I'm really curious now! Please, sit down. I'd love to know how I could help you. Does one of you require my services, or…?"

"No, no, nothing like that. I assure you we are all currently in great health," the mercenary captain assured her, smiling again. Or trying to. "No, what I'm looking for is more of a… long-term cooperation agreement."

"Well, I'd be happy to hear you out, at least," Melania demurred, settling herself on one of the comfy plush couches lined along the wall.

None of the seating was located in the center of the room, leaving the anxious family members or waiting patients a chance to pace if they wanted to. This left the whole group fumbling a little to set up a good seating arrangement.

Took them a minute, but they managed, allowing the merc captain to launch into a speech.

"You see, I couldn't help but notice your amazingly generous prices and the growing proof of your skill. It seems like you send off a new happy client every day! So, I think there is potential for collaboration here."

"Collaboration?"

"Yes." The captain pitched his voice, his accent slipping through again. An accent that was remarkably slum-like. "My people and I do a lot to keep the city safe. The inner districts in particular. We bleed and struggle to fulfill bounty and arrest contracts, taking dangerous criminals off the streets."

"That's remarkable." Melania answered so blandly, I was half-convinced she knew what the man actually did for a living. She didn't, because we had no real reason to reveal shit like that to our staff, but still.

"I'm happy ya agree! However, our way of life gets ya injuries at a rate ye wouldn't believe. So, we need a reliable ripper to look after us during our downtime, if ya gotcha what I mean?"

"Well, the doors of my clinic are always open!" Melania chirped back, her smile growing a little more genuine. "I'd love it if you used my services. Tirgo set up this wonderful site for us that can be used for emergency appointments and such before arrival, too."

For a moment, the man's attempt at a smile slipped into something much colder. His tone became more controlled. "That's nice. Really. However, we need a few more assurances, you see. We need priority. We need the best services you can provide. We might even need help sourcing cybernetics in a hurry to replace lost limbs."

I narrowed my eyes, anger rising. I could easily see what he was angling for, and it pissed me the fuck off.

Everyone knew you went to a ripper with cybernetics in hand. Oh, you could rely on a ripper to provide those for you, but that was expensive. I was pretty sure it was an industry agreement or something for rippers to… well, rip you off if you needed them to do the acquisition of cybernetics as well as surgery.

"Hmmm, we do have a few suppliers," Melania hedged. "I'd even love to provide you with our product list and their pricing."

"Ahhh, the public list? I'm sure you could do better than that. Do we not deserve a little discount, as the local protectors?" There was that attempt at a smile again. "Trust me, just our presence here in the neighborhood is keeping your clinic much safer than it would otherwise be."

And if we didn't play ball, that 'protection' could mysterious vanish and give rise to all sorts of trouble. Yeah, I got what he was doing. I got it, and I really, really wanted to put my claws through his eye sockets.

"Don't." Amelia's voice froze me to my seat, and I glanced over at her questioningly before I realized I'd moved to stand up. "Melania's got this, and it works out great for us. If they think they're squeezing us for all we're worth, then they'll keep coming back. You haven't forgotten why we're here, right?"

She teased, keeping her tone of voice playful. Underneath that, however, lurked nothing but rage. At that point in our relationship, I could tell that the calm mask was hiding a volcano ready to erupt. And as I watched Melania pretend to put up some resistance before finally caving to the mercenaries' demands, I actually felt a trace of pity.

These idiots had walked into a ripper's clinic, all but openly threatened the ripper they were looking to hire long-term, and really thought they'd face no repercussions? Really? I mean, it was a classic oldie saying, but I was pretty sure that the golden standard of the Terran Federation was something along the lines of 'don't piss off your healer.'

And they were doing just that.

With enthusiasm.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.