The hot water steamed around me in the shower.  Compared to the Mitsuhama resort enclave, the place was simple.  Compared to my slag of a flat, the one that six months ago took nearly continuous tight interfacing, often some rough docks, and healing other geese on the side for the bosses for enough cred to pay for, well, it made it look like total drek.

I’m totally lost.  Fuck, who couldn’t tell that.  What good do I do? I mean last night Donegar got splashed, and while he isn’t headed to the dirt-yard yet, because of all the other drek with Sateen, and all that fucking metal running through him, it slagged me just to heal parts of him.  Maybe I can at least bandage him up later.  Frag, I don’t even have a med-kit with me.

I know they think I am nuddin’ but a joytoy.  Fraggin’ right I am.  All my life.  But they don’t have a slottin’ clue about spellslinging.  The spirits are getting angry.  Even though I am new to it,  I can tell they are resisting my requests, which means that’s going to fuckin’ fail at the wrong time, just like, well, never mind.

I thought runnin’ the Shadows might be wavy hard.  I mean, who wants to pay the gander all his life.   If the gleam sheets are to be believed, I got a long time to live, assuming I don’t get geeked and check into the body bank.  I mean, Alternate Intimacy ain’t bad, maybe it’s safer, but I want something else.  Like with Jon and Dana, that could be something chill, different.  I mean, who fuckin’ lives like that.  Maybe I could go corp? I must be fuckin’ short wirin’ to think so.

But if not them, maybe someone else.  Patricia’s chill.  I’m tired.  I thought maybe working the clubs would get me closer to finding something out about my chummers, maybe I could help them.  Plus, what else did I know how to do? If not them, someone like them, find more about about the Order. Pullin’ a gumby I suppose to think that.  How was I going to stand up to someone like Mistress Fiera, or Master Jonne.  I’ve learned enough from Talon to know that she was some sort of sick blood shaman.

I could get used to this though.  Rinsing the conditioner from my  long silver blond hair.  I mean, actual conditioner, not some slotted cheap knockoff.  The cred is nice.  Is that all I am though? Trading in jamming for money to getting slotted in the shadows?

Sateen asked the team a few weeks ago what we wouldn’t do.  I didn’t think I really had limits.  I didn’t think then that I had to worry about what she showed last night.   I can’t do that again.  Can I?

I turn the shower off.  Fuck, they even have something besides a dirty towel to dry my hair.

A few moments pass…..before I realize my hair is more than dry and I am just standing in the bathroom staring into the mirror.  Who am I?  What am I?  What the frag am I going to do?

When I come out of the bathroom, everyone’s already in a bed, asleep, no doubts, just peaceful breathing, snoring.

They have left the king bed for me.  Pure luxury.  Pure loneliness.  Isolated.  Afraid of what I am.  Afraid of touching me.  Of just sleeping next to me.

I crawl under the covers, curling into a ball, as the tears writhe silently down my cheeks. In the back of my mind I can feel another shackle snap back into place.  “I’m sorry Carlos,” I whisper into the fluffy white pillow.