"Hey!" Nikira cried, blinking fervently, "That light's kinda bright to be shining in people's eyes, ain't it?"

"Just part of the routine examination, Miss," Ido replied nonchalantly.

"My name is Nikira," she retorted, glaring at his forehead. "Nih-keer-ah."

"Nikira. Of course," he repeated, casting Alita a look as if inquiring silently which sanitarium she had escaped from.

Alita stood on one leg in the corner, arms folded across her chest. She winked at Nikira, saying, "Give him a break, Nikira... given we only gave him a minute's notice to prepare for your examination you could at least be nice to the man, eh?"

"You're right. I'm sorry for my rudeness, Doctor Ido," Nikira murmured softly. "Please forgive meEEEEEEEEEE!" Nikira yelped as Ido placed the stethoscope on her bare back.

"Sorry," Ido apologized, "I know it's cold." He began to laugh as he released her hand-- the one he caught foiling her attempt to backfist him. "I guess I don't need to check your reflexes after all."

"Sorry 'bout the arm..." Nikira muttered, putting down the offending limb. Again she stared at Ido's forehead. Ido avoided her gaze, turning his head to obscure her view of The Stamp.

"Breathe in and then release it for me slowly, would you please?" he asked gruffly.

She complied huffily, crossing her arms over her bare breasts. Nikira sat on the examination table in Ido's clinic, naked save for the towel draped across her lap.

After muttering "uh-huh" and "OK" several times, Ido turned around and opened the lid a nondescript looking grey box behind him. "Well, you don't look any the worse for wear," he said, taking the newly developed images out of the developer and holding them up to the light. "These pictures indicate you shouldn't be hemorrhaging," he said, gazing intently at the slightly burly photos.

Ido frowned slightly, his eyes focusing on an odd smudge in the center of the photo. It wasn't blood, probably just a fault of the film, but Ido found himself suddenly in doubt. He knew Alita didn't take loosing friends well, even friends as ill tempered as this. String had really torn her up, and he had been unable to do anything to save him. Seeing Alita hurt like that bothered Ido. Fortunately, apart from the mysteriously inoffensive smudge, it appeared that physically Nikira wasn't badly hurt. Her body would be fine.

Although, Ido knew, her spirit was an entirely different matter.

"Did penetration occur?" Ido asked, diffidently.

Nikira hmphed as if insulted. "In their wet dreams, maybe."

A stray thought entered Alita's mind, and she mulled over whether it had been a good idea to let the third attempted-rapist off so easily. Yes, he'd been beaten and bloodied, but she recalled several instances of late in which a foiled would-be felon, drunk on the elixir of their own rotten vindictiveness and spite, later returned with lethal results. The thought evaporated at the slamming of the front door.

"Here," Ido said to Nikira as he handed her a plain white robe. "Alita, why don't you try to find something for Nikira to wear while I greet our guest, okay?"

"Sure thing," Alita replied, leading Nikira down the hall adjacent to the examination room. "I didn't have the room in my tiny place to keep all my things, so I have some clothes in a crate over here that might fit you."

"Hey, thanks again, Alita. I don't know how I can ever..."

"Don't worry about it. You don't owe me any--"

"AND JUST WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?"

Alita started, turning toward the speaker. Another woman stood there, arms akimbo, jaw set angrily. Her red spiky hair poked out from underneath her cap as her blue eyes regarded Alita coldly.

"Uh... heh... hi Raisa", Alita said humbly.

"Hi? HI?!?!!? You call me, tell me you want to get together, and then you never show up. You leave me to mull over just what happened to you and all you can say when I track you down again is 'Hi, Raisa'? Oi vey, THAT'S gratitude for ya!", she ranted.

"I'm sorry, this is all my fault," Nikira interjected. "She would have been on time to meet you if she hadn't stopped to help me."

Raisa blinked, apparently noticing Nikira at last. " 'Help you'? Help you do what?"

Alita indicated Nikira with her thumb. "I happened to find her about to be raped by three druggies in an alley off of Radio Drive. She probably would have taken care of them all by herself," she said with a grin, "but I helped here and there."

"My name's Nikira," the blonde stated, "And I'm guessing you're Raisa?"

Raisa nodded, then stepped forward and took Nikira's outstretched hand. "Those poor schleps. Bet they never knew what hit them."

The three of them shared a chuckle. "We're going to look for some clothes for Nikira here... hers were torn up pretty badly from the struggle."

"Well and good, then," Raisa concurred. "I just got paid today... you two want to go knock a few back with me tonight? My treat."

"Yeah! I'd like that," Nikira said before Alita could answer. "That would be very nice of you."

"No problem," Raisa said, her voice light. "Now about these clothes, dearie--after you grab yourself a shower, I'll help you pick 'em out. Poor ol' Alita here doesn't have any fashion sense whatsoever. Metal and leather aren't the answer to everything, y'know."

Alita feigned injury, meekly muttering "I've been known to wear denim..." as Raisa laughed uproariously. Nikira merely smiled.

***

"Here we are," Alita proclaimed proudly as she turned the key in her door's lock. "Home sweet home."

"Above a bar?" Nikira asked, cocking an eyebrow. She now wore one of Alita's black leather skirts, a blouse on loan from Shumira, and Alita's old Motorball jacket. It was an odd, but not totally unpleasant outfit. "Well, I did want to buy you a drink, after all," she answered herself, thoughtfully tugging at her chin with one hand.

"Give me a minute, will you?" Alita asked her two companions. "I want to grab my darts. Come on in if you like."

"Oh yeah, right, Alita," Raisa returned. "Like we'd all fit in that shoebox you call an apartment."

"So sorry I can't entertain half the Eastern District at my place, Rai. Besides, if my place was as busy as yours I'd never get any reading done."

Nikira walked past Raisa, who vowed she would wait in the hall for them. Alita's apartment was tiny, but, so far as Nikira was concerned, it had a smallness of a charmingly cozy sort. From the doorway she could see it was longer than it was wide, running straight back to the wall on both sides with a small picture window at the end. A little desk sat there, covered almost completely by several ancient-looking leather wrapped volumes, not a one less than five centimeters thick. Alita's bed sat opposite her synthesizers, the latter consuming the wall space not taken by the kitchenette and its attendant barstools. A single dresser, a beanbag chair, and a slightly wobbly rocking chair completed Alita's collection of furniture.

Nikira realized she couldn't see the commode. A slight discomfort in her abdomen told her she'd be in need of one shortly. She had to enter a few steps and close the door halfway before she saw a wee tub next to the toilet and sink in the small room beyond.

"Nice place," Nikira complemented Alita.

"Thanks! I know it's tiny, and the mess doesn't help any. Matter of fact, Raisa says she never comes in because it makes her claustrophobic."

"Er, Alita… may I use your--?" Nikira jerked her head in the general direction of the tiny bathroom.

"Eh? Oh, yeah. Sure. Just don't pull back the shower curtain, okay? He's probably sleeping."

A few moments later, her bladder feeling much relieved, Nikira let her curiosity get the best of her. Slowly, she poked her head around the shower curtain. An empty tub greeted her gaze. Leaning over to examine the tub, she began to wonder whether Alita was pulling some prank on her.

Nikira felt something land on her head, causing her to start. Something… fluffy?

She turned to the mirror and saw three eyes looking back at her. Two were hers; the third belonged to the ball of black…fuzz…that sat perched nonchalantly atop her head. Its two antennae-like ears twitched this way and that as it regarded her coolly.

Nikira hmphed.

"Charmed, ne?" she muttered crossly, the wee creature's one eye blinking in acknowledgement.

***

"Go on ahead, I'll join you once I find these damn darts!" Alita called out after Nikira as the blonde rejoined Raisa in the hallway. Raisa shouted back, saying they would save a seat for her. Alita nodded to no one imparticular, then returned to her digging. She moved aside piles of sheet music and notes from her studies, bound and determined to find her competition set.

"The closet? Maybe..." she muttered, throwing open the door.

She had a split second to regret her actions before she was bowled over by the enormous pile of music, junk, and all the other things she'd stuffed in the closet until she found space for them (or so she kept telling herself). The coup de grace came, as she sat dazed amongst her closet's newly liberated contents, when a large red electric guitar landed in her lap.

Alita sighed sorrowfully. Frustration was replaced by melancholy. She picked up the guitar with intentions of putting it back into the closet but paused, feeling the instrument's weight in her hand. A sad smile tugged at her lips. Darts momentarily forgotten, she slowly adjusted her hold to cradle the guitar the way he used to. Carefully, Alita caressed the strings, a soft, albeit out-of-tune cord ringing in the air.

She adjusted the string tension, then ran her hand slowly down instrument's length. A faint hum rang out, followed by another as she plucked out a few notes. She murmured the words and played more, trying to remember how.

It had been quite some time...since she had had her final lesson with him.

Alita dropped the guitar onto her bed, shaking. She could remember that day--that lesson with String--as if it had happened yesterday, even hours ago. She could remember every second... every touch... every kiss... every sensation. She remembered how he had smelled... how he had tasted.

But what she remembered most was how she had burned.

"I don't want to remember anymore..." she whispered to herself. Alita turned away from the bed, eyes clamped shut, trying to make the memory go away. Instead, it intensified, even as she shook her head. The memory pressed forward in her consciousness, making her relive it all.

"Stop! STOP!" Alita screamed breathlessly, yanking a drawer from her desk as if to exorcise the evil spirits that made her remember. The innocent drawer flew through the air, exploding as it impacted the wall above her bed. Guitar pics, music, pencils, pen, and countless other sundry items scattered in all directions. A small grey box landed neatly on her bed, right next to String's guitar.

Her competition dart set.

"Oh, God..." Alita panted, as the images left her almost as quickly as they had come. She sat down on the floor, trying to catch her breath and compose herself. "What the hell is wrong with me...?" she asked as Kimji came buzzing out of the bathroom, as if to see what the commotion was about.

Kimji flew past her into the open closet, landing on one of the few items that hadn't fallen out. The dusty canvas wrapping protected one of her Motorball keepsakes. Inside lay the blade that Esdoc had given her before his death…the Damascus she wielded in her last battle with Jashugan. A blade... which represented all the things about herself that she loathed.

"Astute little bastard," she wept, the one eye watching her empathetically.

***

" 'Lita here rents a room from the owner. And she sings here. Its sorta a trade," Raisa explained to Nikira how Alita came to live above New Kansas as they walked toward the stairwell. "And that's not all. She's also -- "

Raisa cut herself off, turning around at the sound of a crash.

"Yeah. I heard it too," Nikira said, starting back. Raisa stopped her, placing one hand on Nikira's shoulder. "Just let her be," Raisa tutted. "Feisty one, her. She hasn't employed the same outlets to vent her frustration since she gave up hunting."

"But I thought Alita was a Hunter Warrior," Nikira said, wrinkling her nose in confusion.

"She gave that up after she met String," Raisa said quietly. "Since then she's been into music and reading more than anything else."

"That's... very interesting," Nikira said, looking slightly distant as they started down the stairs.

"This String person... they were close?"

"Very. He used to be a priest before becoming a musician. He also maintained a library here for Scrapyard residents to be able to enjoy reading and learning. She began to help out in the library, she joined his band, she..."

"Ah, I see. 'Faith Manages,' right? "

Raisa stopped suddenly, staring stupidly at Nikira.

"…and she…" Nikira queued her.

"Oh. Yeah. He taught her to sing and play keyboard," Raisa said, composing herself.

"Really?" Nikira asked, looking slightly shocked. "I used to be a singer myself!"

"I play the flute, and I dabble in a few other things," Raisa informed her as they entered the bar and began to look for a place to sit. "I sing a little too. Maybe the three of us could jam sometime."

"Oh, I'd love to!" Nikira bubbled, clapping her hands happily. Raisa sighed, rolling her eyes.

Raisa quickly spotted an empty table; the evening crowd was only now beginning to shuffle in. Raisa and Nikira each took a seat, and Raisa draped her trenchcoat over a third one to save for Alita.

"So," Raisa began once they were both situated, "where are you from? And what DO you do when you're not beating up would-be rapists?"

"Uh, Farm 6," Nikira replied. "I left a few years ago. I wanted to travel a bit."

"Ah."

Raisa paused briefly, then began again as memories from years ago came to her.

"Then you missed this year's Jambaliah festival, didn't you?"

"Yeah. Too bad," Nikira mulled. "The Jam is always my favorite two weeks of summer! My friends there told me I missed a good time."

"Really?" Raisa inquired, momentarily confused. Then, a sly smile slipped onto her face.

"What's that you two are on about?" Alita asked, at last plopping down in the seat reserved for her, darts in hand.

"Oh, hello Alita," Raisa greeted her. "It seems Nikira here is a Farm girl herself…like I was before coming to the Scrapyard. We were just talking about a festival held on a particular Farm every year."

"Hmm…maybe I'll find excuse to get out of this junk heap long enough to take in one of those someday. Anyway, let me hang this thing up and gets us some drinks, alright?"

"Sure," Nikira and Raisa said together. The pair exchanged a glance, then laughed. "Jynx," Nikira muttered, smiling.

"Soooo, you don't have any place to stay, do you?" Raisa continued, after Alita was off again.

"Nope," Nikira sighed, "Haven't for a long time. I've gotten quite used to making do where ever. I was even considering bunking out on the roof of this place tonight."

Raisa stared knowingly at Nikira, murmuring "Barkeep’ll find you and charge rent, that cheapskate. Say, why don't you come over to my place and spend the night? My housemates and I just had someone leave, so we've got plenty of room to spare."

"Oh, I've already imposed enough--"

"Just think of it as rail yard hospitality," Raisa said, cutting her off, "I wouldn't feel right if I knew you were freezing up on the roof of this old place."

"Oh, alright. Guess I have no say in the matter, right?" Nikira said, smiling.

"Smart one, you!" Raisa returned with a grin.

"No say in what?" Alita asked, returning from the bar. Nikira accepted the beige fizzing liquid Alita handed to her and sipped at it hesitantly.

"Ginger ale?" Nikira asked, quirking an offsided smile.

"Yup," Alita replied, "best in the Scrapyard."

"No booze? What kinda bar is this any way?" Nikira asked, sounding mildly disappointed.

"She's doing this for my benefit," Raisa explained. "I have to go to work yet tonight…and I can't drink alcohol a full eight hours before my shift."

"What do you do again, Raisa?"

"I work the spare board as an engineer out of one of the rail yards here. Mostly I work as a hostler. I usually drive a switcher locomotive around pulling the big steamer nukes out of the shop and get them sanded, watered, and coupled up to their outgoing trains. And then I take the locomotives coming off of the road trains to the shop for servicing. Now and again I have to do a local turn, shuffling cars around from Factory to Factory."

"Wow! That sounds SOOO cool!"

"Yeah, well, I like it. Keeps me out of trouble—I usually work the night shift lately. On the spare board, you never can tell when you'll be getting to sleep."

"Speaking of sleep," Alita interjected, "have you given thought to where you're going to spend tonight, Nikira?"

"We were just talking about that when you came back. She's gonna bunk at my place tonight. We have the room since Wellyn moved out," Raisa assured her.

"Great!" Alita said, relieved, "I don't think I could manage to host someone on such short notice."

"Even a shoebox can hold a pair…unlike that apartment of yours!" Raisa jibed.

Alita rolled her eyes. "Can we please lay off the apartment jokes?" she groaned.

"So," Raisa asked Nikira as Alita sulked, "what kind of singer are you?"

"Oh, I've dabbled a bit in several different styles," Nikira demurred.

"Write any songs?"

"A few. And I know a few oldies. It's been forever since I played a guitar, though."

"I know someone that could fix that," Raisa said coyly.

"I'm not that good..." Nikira mumbled, looking down at her glass. "Just an old hobby, you might say."

"I told her on the way down here the three of us should jam sometime," Raisa mentioned to Alita as she sipped at her drink.

"I... I'm not sure if I want to perform in a group again," Alita said quietly.

"Alita...I know how you must feel but you've got to move on and--"

"Konban wa, minna-san!" Shumira chirped, walking up to their table. "Ready for food-ka?" Shumira blinked, realizing who it was at the table. "Ara, Alita-chan!" she said, "and nice onee-san who borrow blouse!" she added, turning to Nikira.

"Konnichi wa!" Nikira replied, grinning.

"Yes, we're ready to order." Alita said quietly before Nikira and Shumira could launch into a conversation in their mutual tongue, "I'll have a dish of garlic ramen and a refill on my drink."

"I'll have a burrito and a pitcher of vodka…NO ice," Nikira said.

Raisa and Alita gave Nikira twin looks of surprise. "A whole pitcher of vodka?" Alita asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"This is a bar," Nikira replied matter-of-factly. "Besides... I don't have a job to go to tomorrow, and it's been a while since I've had any of the old stuff."

"Well, yes, but we'd rather not have to carry you to Raisa's place in a pail, Nikira."

"Lemme tell you friends, I might not know much, but I'm damn sure I can handle my liquor! Besides, I haven't had friends to drink with in a long time!"

Raisa grumbled something about a lush as she turned to Shumira. She began in all seriousness... "I'm in the mood for a shrimp cocktail, ya know---"

"Hey!" Nikira bubbled, "I haven't had shrimp in a LONG time! Can we share?"

"Silly onee-san!" Shumira chided the pair, "No can have shrimps! Sea food only for Tiphareans, ne?"

Shumira paused, waiting for Raisa to answer her.

"Raisa-chan?"

Raisa didn't hear her. She glared at Nikira, who had rapidly engaged Alita in conversation.

"Raisa-chan?" Shumira repeated.

"Oh, yeah. Right. Bring me the special, then. And a hot tea. HOT, y'hear me? Not lukewarm... HOT!"

***

The light of a full moon bathed the Scrapyard in an eerie glow, an effect accentuated by the howl of the Tipharean supply tubes as Earth and Moon played tug-of-war with the floating city. Tiphares dominated the night sky, seemingly higher than the moon itself. The eerie beauty of the scene was lost on Raisa, however, who stared icily toward the ethereal metropolis.

She and Alita were taking Nikira to her new temporary home--a small communal apartment building near Walshaerts Yard Raisa shared with several railway coworkers. Alita, with key to the library in hand and intentions of later dropping of her "new old book" there, walked side by side with Nikira. The three of them had been walking for some time, having had to detour to the train station where Nikira had stowed the backpack containing all her earthly belongings. Raisa ignored them as they hooted and hollered along, still laughing about the jokes they had told each other at dinner. Uncharacteristically quiet, Raisa walked by her self in front of them, her mind filled with her own musings.

Raisa turned away from Tiphares, looking down at her feet as she kept on towards home.

"Hey, Raisa! Lookit that! Isn't that cool?"

Raisa turned to see Nikira excitedly pointing at an explosion lighting the night sky. Meteorites had been frequently known to touch down in the Scrapyard. But Tipharean law was firm. When stray meteorites entered Tipharean airspace, they were blown into oblivion by the automated rail guns for violation of the anti-flight law.

It also served as Tiphares' way of reminding Scrapyard residents just who their masters were.

After the explosions dimmed, Raisa looked toward Tiphares yet again.

Raisa shook off her thoughts as they arrived outside her apartment. "Here we are," she said distractedly as she unlocked the deadbolt at the main entrance. Not the most impressive of buildings, the metallic two-story laid sprawled awkwardly between an old freight car and some broken track ties. It smelled of the railway, that sticky combination of soot, sand, and oil. It was old, rundown, and shabby... but it was home.

Raisa showed them in and flicked on a few lights. The architecture was interesting to say the least... the first floor making up a commons room with an atrium moving up into the second floor. Several stairways led down from the various second-story rooms, each labeled with the occupant's name. There were also three ground level doors, one of which was hanging open. Within was a cluttered room with an exposed drum set and a guitar handing from one of the walls. However, there were no signs of occupants.

"Odd," Raisa muttered, "Where's Tamrin?"

"If he were a snake, you'd all be dead!" a voice said from the door through which they had just come. The three women turned simultaneously to face a pair of men, both appearing to be in their early twenties. The speaker had long, light brown hair that matched his chocolate eyes and wore a black leather jacket and jeans. The second man looked less rugged and more ragged...his mass of unkempt black hair sat on his head so as to hide where it met his bristly beard. He wore a roughed-up canvas jacket, and black denim jeans.

"So, Tamrin Reyanova, you've finally accepted your true form!" Raisa teased. She asked her next question afraid she wouldn't like the answer. "Er... who's your friend?"

"This is my bud Lee Streicher, the guy I found for the spare room," Tamrin said.

"Oh, no!" Raisa gasped. "I already offered the room to Nikira here." She jerked her head toward the blonde woman by way of introduction.

"NO WAY!" Tamrin said in mock frustration. "Rai, ya gotta tell me deese tings!" He chuckled, slapping Lee playfully on the back. "Guess you're taking the couch, pal. And if you know what's good for you you'll stay there. Raisa's been known to attack people up wandering around in the dark when she comes back from graveyard shift."

"Er, I don't mind the couch," Nikira said meekly, "If you had dibs on the room-- 'Lee', was it?"

"Nonsense. See, I might not have many social graces...or even grooming habits," he said, winking, "However, it's not right for a corrupted death machine--such as myself--to take a bed from a beautiful lady--such as yourself." He faced the small group as a whole, and with it his tone changed from self-mocking to sincere and mellow. "The couch'll be fine. That's all I need."

"Yeah," said Alita, giggling hysterically as everyone glanced in her direction.

She stopped herself. She had to go. Now.

"Well, I'd b-best be getting on m-my way," she stammered, saying a hasty good bye to Nikira and Raisa. She shook Lee's hand gingerly. "And nice to have met you, Lee. Maybe I'll see you around again sometime."

Tamrin crooned. "Hey! Ya hear that, Lee? The Iron Maiden's got it for you! BWAHAHAHAHA---OOF!"

Alita's playful kidney punch silenced his cackle. "Oh, blow it out your ass, Reyanova," she steamed, slamming the door behind her.