The sun had been below the horizon for a long time now, and it seemed as though the world existed only in a halogen haze. It was strongest in the open streets, but the halo wound its way down viaduct and alleyway, wherever humankind needed it. One particular street lamp threw enough light upon a boy--a young man, really--for him to admire his reflection on the black of an aqueduct. He smiled, proud of how high he had risen. Just two weeks before, he had been a ruffian among ruffians, little more than a sewer rat. Now, he had a job, a house, and something closer to friends.
	And, of course, the work to be done tonight. 2100 hours was probably the best time for a spine theft--the streets weren't clogged with people getting off work and it was still too early to go out for the evening, so the victim wouldn't be noticed as easily. If you figured in a little to get set up, and a little more to rendezvous, it meant that you could even take a brief break between your jobs. The youth straightened up, away from the water. He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, helping to clear his mind; then he closed his eyes tight to concentrate. Atlas, axis, cervical interface, then the beginning of the true spinal column. The main cranial power supply would be somewhere there--he touched the nape of his own neck, to help him remember--and it wouldn't be able to handle the power spike that the tazerpick would deliver. The target would be incapacitated for about 5 minutes, more than enough time to grab the column.
	"Remember, Hugo, go for the upper part of the neck. Too low, you damage the thoracic vertebrae, the merchandise is shot. Too high, the interface takes damage and...it's bad luck for the customer." Bad luck, those were Mr. Vector's words. Hugo almost liked his boss. Vector gave him respect, treated him almost as an equal; Vector had gotten him his day job, ostensibly as a cover; Vector had even trained him, giving him advice and self-confidence. But deep down, Hugo knew that Vector really didn't care, just as long as the job got done. He couldn't ever quite forget.
	Hugo reached down beside him and opened up the small bag. The tool kit would be useful later, but it was his working clothes that he wanted. He first pulled out a set of goggles and a fume mask. This was standard equipment for someone who worked with volatile liquids, they wouldn't attract attention. Neither would the thick fabric gloves he donned a moment later.
	"Frankly, the cloth ones are as good as rubber, and they make you look like you just got off work in a factory." Myra was Vector's medical assistant. Hugo thought even more of her than he did of Vector. Maybe it was because she wasn't just a businessperson, or maybe it was also that she seemed genuinely concerned for him. Hugo figured that it was because she had less to lose if he got caught; Vector did the buying, Myra merely installed the merchandise.
	Hugo moved a little closer to the lamp to examine the contents of the tool kit. Synthetic silicon oil--much better than the hydrocarbon-based oils, and with a teflon product added for additional lubrication--three bottles. One crow bar. One ax...he would have to hide that in the alleyway, it would be damning if he got caught. A mat for the customers. Lastly, there was the tazerpick. It was about 25 centimeters long, shaped somewhat like a hypodermic needle. When the button on the top was pressed, the point end acquired an electric charge. He couldn't remember what the exact power output was, but it would be enough.
	"You sure you can handle that needle, kid?" As usual, Tyler had been his aggravating self that day. Hugo had never gotten along with him. Oh, sure, he was perfectly courteous when Vector was around, but if the two of them were alone for more than a moment, the teasing and tormenting would not let up. "Well, I'll show that jerk," thought Hugo. "All I have to do is prove that I can do a job as well as anyone." He carefully packed the kit up and walked away, shambling under its weight.

	Tanji glanced nervously behind him, then slipped into the alleyway. He took a step or two, then whispered, "Hugo?"
	"Over here." Hugo stepped out from behind a dumpster, and looked at his partner as well as the light allowed. "Where's Van? And where's your brother?"
	"Danji? Uh, he and Van said they'd wait and see how tonight worked out." Tanji was dressed like Hugo, but the similarity stopped there. Tanji looked about a year younger than Hugo, and was at least 10 centimeters shorter. He also had dark skin; Hugo had wondered if he was a relative of Vector's, but decided not. His behavior alone was one reason: Tanji was almost comically nervous, running his hand through his dark, curly hair, and looking over his shoulder every few seconds.
	"Figures. Hey, calm down, will you? We haven't done anything illegal."
	"Yet. Hugo, why don't we just forget the whole thing?"
	"What?" Hugo stared at Tanji. This wasn't going to work if his partner chickened out. He needed the practice before he went solo. "Are you out of your mind? Look, we know what we're doing. It's just like we practiced back at Vector's-- sit the mark down to ground him, use the pick, you keep lookout while I get the column. 15 minutes, 25,000 chips each. Twenty-five _thousand_. And, if something comes up, it's just an oil change and a body wax. You did bring the equipment?"
	"Y-yeah. Right here." Tanji let his sack roll off his shoulder, and pulled out a pair of chamois gloves.
	"Great. See? Nothing to worry about. Now, let's go scout out a site..."

	"'Scuse me, sir?"
	A young voice caught the man's attention, and he turned around. Off no his right stood two factory kids, dressed in their working uniforms, offering oil changes. A mat was spread out expectantly in the alleyway behind them.
	"Change your oil? High-grade silicon oil, with teflon?"
	"Th-throw in a free body wax?"
	They were clearly energetic and eager, but something didn't seem quite right. "What's the deal, kids? You seem kind of uptight."
	The taller one let out a low laugh. "You've got us there, sir. You're our first customer. Tell you what, we'll take off 200 chips, just for you."
	Eh, dinner and an empty house can wait a few minutes. I owe it to myself. "All right, kids. You've got a customer." The man began to walk over towards the alleyway.
	"Th-that's great, sir! Right this way!" The boys took down their signs and brought out two small satchels. They followed the man off the street, and took their places as he eased himself onto their stool.
	Tanji began to rub his cloth over the man's lower arm and wrist, while Hugo withdrew the first can of oil. He traced the path of the man's spine until he saw the small panel over the power supply. Great, thought Hugo, now just concentrate on the rhythm. One. He flipped open both the power panel and the first joint housing. Two. He passed the can to his left hand. As he did so, his thumb grasped near the top of the tazerpick's handle. Three. He drew back his right hand, and pressed once on the tazerpick's button. This would start the charge generating. He said, in a moderate tone, "Now this will only..."--that was Tanji's cue to pull back away from the customer. Four. He plunged the tazerpick into the power supply, but held the charge for one more moment. He completed the sentence, "..take a minute," and saw Tanji draw back.
	Five. Hugo pushed the button a second time, and watched as the man's body bucked under the unaccustomed charge. The tazerpick was almost wrenched from his hands; for one excruciating moment, Hugo felt the power flowing into the body, and smelled the intoxicating scent of ozone. Then, just as suddenly, the man fell limp at his feet, breathing feebly. Hugo felt a warm glow flowing through his body, a mixture of achievement and a little sadism.
	He pulled his mask down and mouthed the word "guard" to Tanji. Tanji nodded. He pushed his satchel over towards Hugo, then nonchalantly walked over to the edge of the alleyway and sat down, periodically glancing out into the street. Hugo, meanwhile, had pulled the ax out from its hiding place under the dumpster. He was breathing quickly now, hardly daring to believe his luck. It had all gone so smoothly; the mark hadn't caught on, and Tanji was keeping his cool after all. Now all he had to do was finish the job.
	Hugo lifted the ax on high, and swung a mighty blow at the center of the neck. It cut a glancing blow, but deep enough to get at the column. He slipped his crow bar in between the metal plates around the neck, and once again focused on rhythm One, two, three, four...then on to the plates on the back...in less than three minutes he had forced a gap about 10 centimeters wide from the man's shoulders to his pelvis. He reached into Tanji's sack and pulled out a long, liquid-filled cylinder with a screw-off top. The spine would go in there--the liquid would serve the double purpose of maintaining the cells and cleansing the column. He slipped the crow bar underneath the column proper and began to pull it out. It came out with a sickening organic sound, like pulling apart slices of an orange.
	It had been perhaps a minute and a half, and the spine was safely in the tube. Good job, thought Hugo. I wonder what that guy's going to make of this--no bones, no fun. He gave the victim a sharp kick in the head. Nothing. Well, maybe he's just coming around, no big deal.
	Tanji came back into the alley. "Hey, we'd better be going. Has he come around yet?"
	"No. C'mon, let's get out of here." Hugo moved to go, but Tanji was squatting down beside the body of their victim. "C'mon! What are you waiting for? Let's get out of here!"
	Tanji didn't move for a moment. Then, lifting his head, he said in a shaking voice, "He's not breathing."
	"What???"
	"He-he's not breathing." Tanji's voice started to rise. "He's dead! Hugo, he's dead! You-you..."
	"Will you shut up?" Hugo snarled. He dropped the cylinder and leapt over the body, falling down on top of Tanji. He forcefully jammed the palm of his hand over Tanji's mouth, ramming the back of his partner's head against the ground. Tanji gave a muffled yelp of pain. "Now, I am going to count to three, then I am going to get off you. You will not shout. You will not scream. You will not cry.
	"One.
	"Two.
	"Three." True to his word, Hugo slowly removed his hand from over Tanji's mask and rolled off his partner's chest. Tanji fainted dead away.

	They sat next to one another, watching the water in the aqueduct roll slowly by. Down in the muck at the bottom was a small pile of scrap. It might be worth a few chips in a used parts stand at the moment. Within a little time the metals would begin to corrode, and only the insane or the artistic would find a semblance of beauty in the twisted hulk of rotten metal.
	Tanji was the first to speak. "So what do we tell Vector?"
	"We tell him that we've got the spinal column."
	"...that's all?"
	"Yes. That's all."
	"What about Danji and Van?"
	"You can tell them what you like. I'd show them the 25 grand before I told them anything."
	"Oh. Yeah."
	There was a pause before Hugo stood up from the water. "I'm starting to feel cold. Let's get back to Vector's so we can get on home. Are you about ready?" He tried wiping his gloves off on his overalls.
	"I guess."

	The lights of the Scrapyard flew by, tracing white lines across the surface of his face. Every few seconds, another streetlight would race toward him, throw out its light, then drag it away as the car he rode passed by. Snatches of song, clinking of bottles, and the laughs of the revelers all came through the open window of the van.
	Abruptly, Vector swerved off the main road and pulled up in front of a building that once must have served as a shed of some kind. He rolled to a stop at its front door, then punctuated its arrival with the emergency brake. Hugo moved to leave the van, but Vector held his arm.
	"Hugo? Just one more second." Hugo turned and faced his employer, his back to the light over his front door. His shadow wasn't long enough to cover Vector's white suit, and the mirrored sunglasses Vector wore were positively blazing. "Hugo, I just want to shake your hand. I really was worried about Tanji, I didn't think he'd have the guts to do the job. But you," he extended his arm, "you led him through it. It's not an easy thing to lead someone. That takes real character. Real ability."
	"Gosh, Mr. Vector..."
	"Come on, Hugo, don't be so modest. It doesn't suit you." He let Hugo's arm drop. "Well, I guess I'd better be going. Take care of yourself."
	"G'bye Mr. Vector! See you tomorrow!"
	It wasn't until he was safely inside and in bed that he began to cry. He cried for the life that he had taken, whether by accident or unconscious intent. He cried for his co-workers, and the expectations he now had to live up to. He cried most of all for himself, because he couldn't concentrate on any physical pain while his conscience sucked on his spirit and his ambition taunted him from on high.