NEW YORK WORLD
November 6, 1862
GENOISE WINS
MISS CARAMEL GENOISE, KNOWN AS 'WITCH OF NEW YORK' AND 'MOUNT OF MANHATTAN', CLAIMS HISTORIC VICTORY
Will Represent New York's 4th District in 38th Congress
Defeats Dead Opponent By 13 Votes
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"Ishi, bring her some tea and a bowl of barley."
Bowing awkwardly to Yoshi, Momori croaked out something almost like thank you. Her knees shook as Ishi went into the back of the shop.
"And bring a damp cloth!" Yoshi yelled towards the workroom door. Turning back to Momori he scowled again. "Let's get that stuff off your face. Is that charcoal?"
"Ran out of dye," Momori tried to shrug the matter off. "I just covered up the white spots in my eyebrows."
"You look like a kabuki actor," Yoshi replied. "With a drunk makeup artist."
"Go choke on a donkey cock."
"Is that any way to talk to your employer?"
"You're not my employer. I'm freelance."
"And with a mouth like that, you'll never be an employee."
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火事と喧嘩は江戸の華
Fires and fights are the flowers of Edo.
In the Shōgun's city of Edo, Momori approached the master of Himyaku.
"Hey, Publisher-san." Momori held a roll of papers out to Yoshiki, shaking it under his face. "Give me some fucking money."
The publisher of Himyaku, Yoshi, looked down on Momori from his shop's open sales floor. The more he looked the higher his eyebrows rose. His gaze touched Momori's black eye, then moved up to her charcoal-dusted eyebrows, on to the pale birthmark peeking out from below her headwrap, then finally to the wrap itself. Momori figured he was looking to see if her unnatural white forelock showed through the thinned cloth.
"What happened to you?" Asked Yoshi as his eyebrows climbed towards his freshly shaved hairline.
Momori shrugged, trying to look casual. Her empty stomach spoiled her best unconcerned look by rumbling loudly. "War. The lockdown. I was nearly arrested this morning."
"You didn't get that black eye this morning." Today was one of those days where Yoshi felt like being a pain in the ass, apparently.
"Yeah, this is from the first time I was nearly arrested." Momori shook her roll of papers again. "Just before the lockdown. One of the Shōgun's court guards came by to ask me a few questions. Mostly about that poem you paid me for."
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She'd never expected to actually fight anyone. Or anything.
Segmented tentacles and grabbers slid around her, struggling to find a grip. A metal pincer closed tight over her cape and yanked hard, trying to drag Laurel out from under the robot's body. Ignoring it Laurel punched up into the robot, through its steel shell. Her fist hit something hard inside the saucer-shaped machine, something that buckled and lifted as her punch plowed through the robot's machine-guts.
Metal screamed as it ruptured. The robot stalled, underbelly tentacles dropping loose around Laurel.
Shoving the robot aside revealed the sky and another machine above her. A metal cylinder, bent and broken. Laurel braced herself, waiting for a new attack. After an instant of watching the complex cylinder she realized it wasn't a missile or drone. The robot's power turbine. Launched clean through the robot's body by the force of her blow.
Did I hit it too hard? Laurel wondered as she watched the turbine fly through the grey sky. The turbine, trailing smoke, arced up and over, tumbling as its rise turned into a fall.
Laurel realized its fall was taking it towards a nearby police car, parked lengthwise across the industrial road. The cops, watching from behind the car, realized the same thing and ran.
A bit too hard, maybe, Laurel decided. The turbine came down fast onto the hood of the police car, the hard smash almost inaudible over the sound of fire and safety alarms. Well, I'll know better for next time.
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