The Last Drop
The Last Drop truly wasn’t what it used to be.
As Vi approached the bar she once called home, her gut twisted at the sight of it. The building loomed ahead, its neon sign flickering unevenly, casting a sickly green glow over the cracked pavement. The faint hum of music vibrated through the walls, muffled but aggressive, a far cry from the warmth the place had once held.
She paused outside the doors, her boots scuffing the ground as she took a deep breath. Memories of Vander, of Powder, of her brothers, of how it had been before everything fell apart rushed through her mind. She could still hear the laughter, see the familiar faces leaning against the bar, and feel the sense of safety that Vander had created.
That was gone now.
When she pushed the door open, the stench of sweat, cheap alcohol, and burnt chemicals hit her like a punch to the gut. The dim lighting cast long shadows over the room, and the air was thick with tension. Patrons filled the space despite it being only noon. There was no warmth here, no sense of community. Just people looking to drown themselves in the chaos and booze.
Vi clenched her fists, her jaw tightening as she moved through the crowd. She ignored the looks she got, curious, wary, or outright hostile, and made her way toward the private booths in the back.
Sevika was waiting for her.
The booth was tucked away in the corner, partially concealed by a curtain of thick, worn fabric. Sevika lounged there, her mechanical arm resting on the table, its metallic surface gleaming in the dim light. She was nursing a glass of whiskey, despite the fact that the afternoon had just started. Literally.
Vi stepped inside, the curtain brushing against her shoulders as she slid into the seat across from Sevika. Before she could say a word, Sevika’s sharp gray eyes locked onto hers, and her lips curled into a scowl.
“You’re late,” Sevika said flatly, her voice low and dangerous. She tapped an imaginary watch on her organic wrist. “It’s 12:01. I said noon.”
Vi frowned, her fists clenching under the table. “It’s a minute, Sevika. Relax.”
Sevika’s glare didn’t waver. She leaned forward, her mechanical arm hissing softly as she shifted her weight. “A minute might not seem like much to you, little wolf, but to me, it means you don’t know how to follow orders.” Her voice was like steel. “Lucky for you, I’m feeling generous today. I’ll let it slide. This time.”
Vi bit back a retort, forcing herself to stay calm. She didn’t need to escalate things, not yet. She leaned back against the booth, crossing her arms. “Alright. I’m here. What do you want?”
Sevika took a slow sip of her whiskey before setting the glass down. She studied Vi for a long moment, her eyes moving up and down the younger woman. Then, she leaned back, resting her mechanical arm on the edge of the booth with a lazy confidence that only made Vi’s blood boil.
“I thought I already made that clear? You’re going to work for me,” Sevika said finally. “You’ll do what you’re told when I tell you.”
As she spoke, Vi’s eyes flicked toward the bar where two brutish bouncers stood like statues, their eyes scanning the room for signs of trouble.
Sevika followed her gaze, her smirk growing as she tilted her whiskey glass slightly, the amber liquid catching the light. “Zaun runs on more than just brute strength,” she began, her voice smooth and measured. “It runs on information. However, it’s hard for me to get information when I have other things on my plate. So, you’ll be handling my... side work. The kind of work I frankly don’t feel like dealing with.”
Vi’s brows shot up, and her mouth opened slightly. “So, I’m supposed to be your errand girl?”
Sevika’s smirk sharpened, her gray eyes gleaming with amusement. “Exactly.” She leaned forward, her tone purring with mockery. “I knew you had something rattling around in that head of yours.”
Vi gritted her teeth, resisting the urge to snap back. She wasn’t about to give Sevika the satisfaction. Instead, she sat a little straighter, her jaw tightening as her fists tightened in her lap.
Sevika took a leisurely sip of her whiskey, her eyes never leaving Vi. When she set the glass down, her tone dropped to something lower, darker. “Your first job’s simple. Another brothel owner owes Silco. They’re late on their payments and refusing to cooperate. You’re going to make sure they find the coin. Tonight.”
Vi snorted, leaning back against the booth. “Sounds easy enough.”
“It won’t be,” Sevika said. She leaned in, her mechanical arm hissing softly as it shifted. “You screw this up, and you’ll wish you were back in whatever hole you dragged yourself out of. Understood?”
Vi met Sevika’s glare head-on, her chest tightening under the weight of the unspoken threat. She didn’t flinch, even though her stomach churned. “Yeah,” she said finally, her voice low but firm. “I get it.”
Sevika’s gaze swept over her, slow and deliberate like a predator deciding whether to strike. “Are you sure? I thought that understood that I wanted you here at noon” She slightly tilted her head, “And yet you were late.”
Vi clenched her jaw but kept her expression neutral. It was just a minute, one damn minute, and Sevika was acting like it was the end of the world. “Yes. I got it,” she said shortly, not seeing the point in arguing.
Sevika seemed satisfied with the response, her smirk returning as she reached into her jacket. She pulled out a folded slip of paper and slid it across the table. “Vander taught you to read, right?”
Vi nodded, though the admission felt bitter in her throat. She hadn’t done much reading since Stillwater, but she could manage. Probably.
“Good.” Sevika’s tone turned dismissive. “That’s the owner’s name, address, and the amount they owe. I don’t care when you do it, as long as it’s done before midnight.”
Vi picked up the slip of paper, unfolding it slowly. Her eyes scanned the hastily scrawled details, and her stomach twisted. She hated the idea of shaking someone down for Silco’s money, but this wasn’t about Silco. This was about Powder. And if this was the only way to get closer to her, then Vi would do it.
Forcing a sigh through her teeth, she stood, shoving the paper into her pocket. “Alright,” she said, her voice clipped. “I’ll take care of it.”
Sevika didn’t say anything, just raised her glass in a mock toast as Vi turned and walked away. It also served as a signal to someone near the door who had been silently watching the conversation. It was a signal to follow.
As Vi weaved through the crowd, the heavy weight of Sevika’s gaze burned into her back. She didn’t look over her shoulder, but she could feel the woman watching her every step.
Had she glanced back, she might’ve caught Sevika murmuring under her breath, her voice carrying a note of amusement: “Good girl.”
Once outside, Vi sighed and pulled out the paper to confirm the address before walking off in its direction.
The Last Drop wasn’t what it used to be.
Neither was she.