The wind pinched her cheeks, turning her pale flesh pink and raw, forcing her to shove her numb fingertips deep into the pockets of her oversized hoodie. She clenched and unclenched her fists, trying to work some circulation back into the stiff digits, but it was no good, and it seemed her fingers were destined to remain tightly curled up and unmovable for the duration of the time she was outdoors, and probably when she got home, too. 

 Her lip curled in irritation as she recalled the previous night’s dismal events- somewhere around midnight, the small portable heater in the corner had clonked out, and left her shivering beneath thin sheets. She’d given up on sleep after that, and had spent the rest of the night angrily chomping on her favourite chocolate covered cereal bars whilst sharpening her small collection of knives, watching clouds of mist form with every exhalation. 
 
At least she now knew what she was going to be using her share of the money from this job on, assuming she could find somewhere selling mini heaters at this time of night. If not, she could always get a cricket bat to beat her useless landlord over the head with.
 
 Of course, she knew it could be worse. All around her, concrete flats towered, and she couldn’t help but wonder how many of them contained people who were starving, people huddled in the dark under a single blanket because they couldn’t afford to pay the electricity bill, people whose kids couldn’t go to school because they had to work in order to just live. This lifestyle was toxic, it breathed in hope and coughed out hatred and despair, and Liv knew for a fact that she’d rather die than go back to that. 

 She clenched her fists again, this time for reasons other than the cold. Everyone in this city was just as bad as each other; The New Order didn’t care about anyone who wasn’t rolling in it, and the various resistance cells could wax philosophical about oppression as much as they pleased, but she knew for a fact that the average bystander was more likely to end up on the wrong side of a resistance gun than one belonging to the government. Of course, the various third parties, such as The Lost and freelancers like her and Lanius probably didn’t help matters, but if it was between this, and being in one of those flats, the choice was easy. 

She paused, having spotted the place they’d agreed to meet up in; a disused shop with the windows smashed in, graffiti covering the walls, and likely a couple hundred needles littering the floor.  Carefully, she squeezed past one of the previous owners’ attempts at boarding up the windows, making sure not to accidentally scrape one of the many rusty nails jutting out of the rotting planks. Glass crunched underfoot like snow as she picked her way across the room towards a corner that seemed relatively debris free, her nose wrinkled against the pervasive smell of vomit, cat piss, and something that might have been rose-scented air freshener. 

 This place was probably on the grungier side of their many meetup spots, and she hoped Lanius didn’t mind, but wouldn’t be too fussed if he did. The fact of the matter was that this particular building, in all its urine soaked glory, was much safer than a lot of places. It was out of The New Order’s jurisdiction (not that you’d find anyone on their diamond studded payroll hanging round in area like this anyway), and it was pretty much right round the corner from the Nexus, so it was unlikely any of the various resistance cells would be causing any trouble. It was as good a place as any to meet, as long as you didn’t mind the grunge. 

 Hopefully they wouldn’t be staying there long, just enough time to figure out how they were going to deal with their next hit; a dealer who’d gotten too big for his boots, capture or kill. He was just the right kind of scummy to not draw too much attention when he ‘disappeared’, but still grant an odd sense of satisfaction when they took him out. More importantly, the pay was pretty good, so even if she couldn’t find a heater to buy, she’d at least be able to afford one. She leaned against a wall, ignoring the fact that it was disconcertingly sticky, and allowed her eyes to close briefly. With any luck, the job wouldn’t take too long, she was tired, and the air had that strange still quality to it that meant shit was about to go down.  Whatever it was that was about to happen, she wanted no part in it, it was just common sense that city-scale riots weren’t good for business, regardless of who the participants were. 

With that thought, she pulled a chocolate cereal bar out of her pocket, and tore of the wrapper. She watched disinterestedly as the foil wrapper fluttered to the floor, joining the rest of the junk. She took a bite, relishing the crispy chocolatey heaven, a rare smile gracing her lips as she chewed. It was hard to believe that these things had been in pretty much every shop in the olden days, they were pretty hard to come by now, but luckily she’d stockpiled a few boxes full a while ago, and whatever happened, they’d still be there. She knew that some people wouldn’t be happy until they got revolution, but for Liv, survival was enough. She took another bite of the cereal bar, and amended her previous thought; she’d be perfectly happy as long as she was alive, and had a lifetime’s supply of chocolate cereal bars at her side.