After The End

The Problem With Friends

The muted sounds of the upstairs television set murmured softly in the background as Corvus let himself back into Jerome’s shophouse. He carefully locked the door behind him, then travelled through the maze of ticking mechanical gizmos and climbed up the wooden stairs, the planks protesting loudly under his weight.

Corvus paused in the middle of the stairs, wondering if he could get around his friend’s staircase-alerting system. Carefully, he placed his next step as close as possible to the railing where the wood would be most solid. No sound. A grin curled his lips, and he eased the rest of his foot onto that sweet spot.

“You know that’s not going to work,” called Jerome from upstairs.

Ignoring his friend, the bounty hunter soon had his foot solidly resting on the step without a single squeak. Now more confident, he slowly began shifting his weight, only for it to squeal out in the most ear-splitting fashion possible. Sighing, Corvus removed his foot and proceeded up the rest of the steps in the orthodox manner.

The sight that greeted Corvus as he reached the top step was a living room enshrouded in darkness, the only thing being illuminated by the shifting images on the television screen was the things on the coffee-table and the stiff, disapproving, crossed-arm silhouette of his friend sitting on the far side of a couch.

“... policemen assure the public that it was merely a safety drill, but inside sources confirm that something has been stolen…”

Disregarding the fact that Jerome was refusing to look at him, Corvus collapsed onto the waiting end of the couch and casually poured himself a steaming cup of joe.

“Being sneaky is not your forte, Corv,” said Jerome’s impassive figure.

Corvus shrugged nonchalantly, settling back to watch the whirring wooden box announce the details of his latest escapade. “Not yet, Jer. Not yet.”

The two sat in comfortable silence for a while, allowing the staticy, overly-excited voice of the monochrome reporter to fill the quietness with news of the theft. Corvus sipped his coffee, then replaced the cup on the table to fumble about in his pockets.

Jerome watched him suspiciously from the corner of his eye. “Corv…”

“Shush, Jer, I haven’t even said anything yet.”

“Corvus, you never have to. What else did you do this time?”

“Something for you to replicate.” Corvus pulled out his fist and opened it to reveal the shimmering, cybernetic eyepatch. “Don’t suppose you can make a new copy of this for me?”

Jerome immediately lost his cool, swearing through his teeth as he turned to glare at Corvus in the eye. “Silver, have you any idea how much of a thorn you are in my side?”

“Last-name basis suddenly, are we? Too bad I can’t do that with you, since you never told me yours.”

“Not the point, Corvus!” hissed Jerome.

“Now, now, Jerry-boy,” said Corvus, “you know I always make good on my bets. Besides, the sooner you can make a copy of this, the sooner I’ll be out of your hair.”

Jerome groaned and slumped into the sofa. “It’s not that simple, Corv. You can’t just put this over your eye and go ‘Whoopee me, I’ve got X-Ray vision now!’. You need cybernetic implants for this thing to work for you.”

This time, it was Corvus’ turn to swear. “You don’t suppose being a surgeon happens to be one of your many talents?”

“Only enough to sew you back together,” deadpanned Jerome. “‘Sides, can’t ruin that perfect vision of yours, can I? No Corv, you’re going to have to find yourself a proper doctor this time. I can’t keep doing things like this for you.”

“In that case, I don’t suppose you could point me to the nearest guy who can do this, could you?”

Jerome rubbed his temples, trying to recall. “50th… No, 52nd street… look for the third house from the left. If it still looks abandoned and has a triangle on the left wall, you’ll have a doctor there who can operate on you.” Jerome reached over and poured himself a cup. “That was a long time ago, though, before I got better at avoiding fights. I’m not sure if he’s still in business. You also still need someone to calibrate the tech for you, but you shouldn’t be asking me for contacts.”

Corvus, satisfied that he has somewhere to go, gets up to leave. As he starts walking out, he stops and tosses the eyepatch over his shoulder, which Jerome catches effortlessly. “Just because you can’t put it on doesn’t mean I’ll let you get away without making me a copy, Jer.”

Jerome wordlessly stuck out his free hand and gestures for his pay. “Nothing’s free in this world, old man.”

“I could retort to that, but it would be expensive.” Corvus walked back to the coffee table and dropped some coins. “I hope that’ll suffice. If this doesn’t work out, that’s all the money you’ll be seeing from me for awhile.”

A gem unlocked itself from a decorative piece on the wall and floated over to Jerome as he picks up the eyepatch. It begins to radiate a warm, bright light from its heart, illuminating Jerome’s surroundings in response to his need to scrutinise the gadget. He runs the shimmering material through his fingers, his eyes glinting in the light reflected off the nearly-invisible metallic lines criss-crossing its surface. “I’m working on something legal from one of my regular customers right now, Corv. You know the drill.”

Corvus grinned and threw a mock salute at his friend before heading off. “See you then, Jer.”