The Saw Cliffs was a part of Hadrian that Kirk hoped he never had to visit again. Even the name, ominous as it was, didn't do justice to the depravity of this place.

He looked up uneasily at the seedy market that crawled its way up between two man-made edifices. Once upon a time, the pair of tower blocks had been used for research and development by a conglomerate of corps. But time marched on, the great and the good of Hadrian moved away from the river to set up shop in the glittering heart of the new world, and the structures had been repurposed by some enterprising pencil pusher, to be used as housing.

Then some more enterprising and rather more hands-on people had put it to a different use.

Brothels, drug-fuelled nightclubs, black market distilleries, Risk-A studios and gambling dens infested the place, with long brightly-lit walkways criss-crossing back and forth overhead. But what gave the place its name was the nest of specialists in the upper regions, those who made a living reshaping the lives of others – literally. In a more civilised era they might have had real qualifications, but now they were simply known as Saws.

"Alright, it's not gonna get any prettier just cos we're staring at it," Doser muttered, thumping the car door shut and hunching his shoulders. He glanced at the address on the holo again then sighed. "You good?"

"Let's just get this over with," Nevay growled. "What in the fucking evergrind would some kid from Perrier be doing with the Saws? No way she's got the crypts to pay for any kind of mods from this place."

"Not your kind of neighbourhood?"

"Business is business," she replied, "but Saws give me the creeps."

"Let's just go," Kirk said, starting towards the closest elevator platform. "Sooner we find the place, the sooner we can leave."

Nobody argued that point. They crammed themselves into the big elevator, shoulder to shoulder with the local denizens of the Saw Cliffs. It was an open topped thing with just a chest-high grate of metal keeping its human cargo inside. Its magrails whined as it climbed, hauling them up from the chemical air of the lower reaches of Hadrian. As they climbed, the air grew hot with electrical discharge, and thrummed with the sound of hundreds of small wind turbines that crawled around the walls like ivy.

Kirk kept his shoulders hunched, eyes up, and one hand on the gun in his belt. People shimmied out of the lift as it climbed, and the higher they went, the fewer companions they seemed to have. Breathing deep, he risked a glance up.

The lair of Hadrian's flesh-cutters was only a few levels away, a series of dark, lurid buildings with neon-signage, mostly reds and deep purples, with sensual images of men and women entangled on billboards, proclaiming that nothing was better than what was on offer here. Be better, be bigger. Don't settle for what you started with.

If you've got the money.

"Stay close, eh?" Doser muttered as the lift creaked into place on the top level. Kirk risked a glance down, and immediately wished he hadn't. The ground was more than a dozen stories below now, ant-like shapes of people scurrying back and forth in a different world.

They moved into the upper level, where evidence of the Saws work was everywhere. He saw people with elongated limbs, some with extra joints. There were people with skin that looked like silver; he saw a woman with honest-to-god fangs. A swarthy young man with dreadlocks sported eyes that glowed blue. Dark clad men and women with guns watched them as they moved.

"Where now?" Kirk asked quietly.

"Across the way," Doser answered, nodding to the opposite side of the Cliffs. "She works out of the back of a club called Reaxis."

"Hell of a place to set up shop," Nevay murmured, one hand fixed on her knife, ready to draw in an instant.

"You been before?"

"Yeah a couple of times on business. It's... not your average night on the town. Fun if you know the right people. Nasty if you don't."

"No kidding."

Kirk grimaced as they set off across the walkway, joining a thin flow of people, some of them altered, some of them not. He was surprised to see some moneyed looking individuals here, some even sporting private security escorts. Maybe tourists; maybe corps looking for an illicit thrill outside the heart.

They kept their distance, crossing the broad gangway to the opposite side, where Doser led them into one of the narrow alleyways that had been machined into the flanks of the tower. He heard the music from Reaxis before they reached it – thunderous drums and bass coupled with ear-splitting guitars and guttural vocalisations.

Nevay took the lead, easing Doser out of the way as the blood-red sign came into view, augmented with dripping tendrils in the shape of machine cogs. Devil skull holo images flickered in and out of existence around it, and below the sign was a yawning entrance, like the gullet of some ancient metal titan.

"Follow me," she said, raising her voice over the rising din as they joined the flow of people trickling in and out of the club.

A hulking meat-slab of a bouncer watching them as they entered, his square head nestled atop an unnatural mound of muscle, tracking them like a turret. Kirk resisted the urge to stare, fixing his eyes on Nevay as they passed through the club's shimmering audio-filter screen. The blur disappeared and the full force of Reaxis hit him like a brick.

"Fucking hell," he blurted, wincing as the music slammed into them. A full frontal assault on the senses followed, battering his eardrums, a sickly cocktail of cologne and perfume replacing the breathable air of the place. Bodies packed out the place, the darkness blitzed by violent strobes.

"Just stick close," Nevay shouted. She patted her left shoulder with the opposite hand. "Get a good grip."

He reached forward and clamped his fingers around her jacket. Doser's big hand closed around his shoulder, and then Nevay set off, plunging through the melee. Bodies bounced off them, fingers dripping across their arms, altered eyes flickering in the half-light. Kirk wanted to vomit.

They finally cleared the miasma of the club, Nevay leading them out into a back hallway. The skull-cracking bass and heavy guitar riffs fading back into the background and he released his hold on her jacket, rubbing his ears with the heels of his palms. There were some people scattered through here, a few couples tangled together in nooks and crannies; a handful of people smoking something a lot more potent than cigarettes.

A small door at the far end of the passage waited for them, solid metal and windowless.

"In there," Doser confirmed with a nod.

Nevay marched up to it, and looked directly at the camera stud embedded just above the door frame. She looked up, spread her hands wide, and grinned.

"Nev Jennings calling," she announced. "I'm looking for Scay?"

The camera whirred. Kirk raised and eyebrow, glancing back uneasily over his shoulder. Then a clunk yanked his attention back around. A small square had opened in the door, revealing a bear-faced man with metal eyes. He stared, unspeaking, the lights in his eye flicking from red to blue to green. Then he grunted something unintelligible.

"Let's take a look," a woman's voice called, syrup-sweet and sickly. The face in the door disappeared, and a moment later the door itself swung open.

They stepped inside.

Kirk looked around quickly. The man with the metal eyes now stood off a couple of meters to the left, his back to a wall, hands clasped in front of him. The door swung shut behind them with a dull thump as he looked into the rest of the room. It was a mix of smooth metal panels and shining screens, leading to a table at the far end.

Scay, herself, was already walking towards them. The sight of the Saw made Kirk's stomach turn. She was tall and spindly, with thick braids of dark hair clumped together into a single, snake-like mass that coiled down around her neck and down her chest. A grey tank-top clung to her torso, revealing the spiralling lines of intricate tattoos down both arms, and her legs disappeared into a pair of baggy cargo trousers.

But it was her eyes that really made him feel ill. They were completely red – crimson orbs with a tiny, perfect white pupil dotted at their centres. She licked her lips as she approached.

"I'm afraid I don't take walk-ins," Scay hissed as she prowled towards them, "but always happy to take new clients. Maybe we can code something for another time." Her white dot irises slid back and forth between then, a little slower than the natural flicker of a human eye. She looked Doser up and down disdainfully.

"Not much any Saw can do for you," she sneered, then turned to Nevay with more interest. "But you, little baby Nev... maybe not a total lost cause. Could get you a pretty eye instead of that nasty metal thing. Maybe shave a little off the cheekbones, and line the nose up properly, too."

She moved on to Kirk before Nevay could detonate. "What about you? Could slap a little extra muscle fibre in – god knows you need it." Scay broke off with a titter. "Can always add any other... enlargements too, if you need it. That why you're here? You and your girlfriend here having a little trouble in the sheets?"

"She's not my girlfriend," Kirk grated, fighting to keep his voice level, "and we're not here for your 'services'."

"No?" Scay recoiled with a sneer. "Then get out. If you're not swinging crypts you've got no business with little me."

Nevay moved. Not towards the Saw, but back towards the closed door of the clinic. From the pocket of her jacket, she pulled out a small, disc-shaped device and fixed it to the control panel.

Kirk heard the hiss-clunk of the locking mechanism engaging, and the control panel blinked red with error messages. He could see the tension in his companion's shoulders. The lid she'd kept on her anger was about to blow off. He glanced at Doser and gave a small shake of his head as he took a precautionary step away from Scay.

"What are you doing?" the Saw hissed, and her guard took a step forward.

Nevay rounded on them slowly. A thin smile crept across her face, then in a sudden blur of movement she was across the room, her big knife moving in a wild arc that hacked through the guard's throat. The man collapsed, choking and spluttered, clutching at the flow of blood gushing from his windpipe.

In the same motion she bulled forward and fastened a hand around Scay's throat, fingers digging into the stunned surgeon's windpipe. Nevay pushed hard, ramming the spindly woman back against the wall. On instinct, Kirk yanked his gun out and aimed it at the guard. He needn't have bothered. The metal-eyed man let out a final rattling breath and went limp, blood pooling around him where he fell. Doser tugged his police revolver free and moved to cover the door.

"You know," Nevay hissed as she brought her face close to the Saw, her voice like acid, "my uncle fucking hated your kind, Scay."

"What the...FUCK!" Scay gurgled, wriggling and writhing. "Do you... have any-"

Nevay clenched harder. "Oh, yeah, I know you've got big bad bosses, but I've got bigger fish to fry." She brought her blood stained knife around, pointing it at Scay's eye. "How long do you think it's going to take for someone to figure out something's wrong here? A little too long, I'll bet."

Scay bared her teeth. "The fuck do you want from me?"

"Information."

"Guess brains don't run in the gene pool." The Saw shook her head as much as she was able to. "Cutter knew better than-,"

"Cutter is dead," Nevay hissed, flicking the knife and opening a small cut on the woman's face, "and if you want to join him to compare notes, I can help with that."

"My employers will kill you. You can't stop what we're doing. Dunno what you think-,"

"Easy, easy," Kirk interjected at last, moving up beside Nevay, though he made no effort to pull her away. The Saw made his skin crawl – seeing this creature dead and buried wouldn't give him any sleepless nights. "We're not here to shut you down, Scay. Your business is your business. We're just trying to find someone."

"I don't give out personal deets. Client confidentiality."

"Her name's Treysi Cabrera," Doser said, ignoring the protest. "Found a holo in her house with your address on it. You work her?"

"Cabrera?" Scay glanced down at the knife blade. "Wanna get that fucking thing out of my face so I can think straight?"

Nevay moved the point back a few inches and released her chokehold, her expression never wavering.

"Why you wanna know?"

"None of your fucking business. Answer the question."

"I never worked on Cabrera," Scay replied.

"No?"

"No. That's the truth."

"But she was here?"

The Saw's expression darkened. "Yeah. So what?"

"I don't think anyone comes here for a courtesy call," Kirk said. "What did she want?"

"Something I couldn't get her."

"What?"

"I can't tell you that, for fuck sake. Any idea what'll happen to me? She ain't here, and I didn't cut her. That's all I can tell you. Get the rest of your info somewhere else."

Her declaration echoed into silence. For a moment no-one spoke. Kirk stared, trying to decide if the woman was lying. It was certainly true, that in Hadrian, there was generally a bigger fish. He glanced at Doser. The detective didn't look convinced.

"You sure that's the story you wanna stick to?" he grunted. "You've got a reputation around here, missus. Something you can't give is something that a kid like Treysi wouldn't be able to afford."

"Girl's bank balance ain't my problem." Scay's eyes blazed. "She asked, I said no, patted her on her fine little ass and sent her on her way. Like you say, I got reputations to keep, so I'm not telling you another word. Now, I got quotas to meet, or my bosses'll be the next ones knocking on that door. We done?"

"No, we're not done," Nevay said quietly. "Kirk, Doser? Do me a favour?"

"Mhm?"

"Think you could step out for a sec, keep an eye on the entrance?"

Doser cocked an eyebrow. "Why?"

She gave him a nasty smile. "Cos if you stick around and watch what happens next, you're gonna have to arrest me."

||