Esdoc pulled his jacket tightly around his body and peeped out of the doorway. The rain was slacking off, though the humidity that replaced it blanketed the streets all around him. If it gets cooler, we'll get some fog, he thought. But fog in late spring was practically unheard of, so he would have to tolerate the drops of moisture that ran on his body and clothing. He pulled out a crumpled cap and placed it firmly over his head--that would be all the protection he needed, unless the storm came back.
	He pulled the door of the trailer firmly shut, then palmed the lock; Umba could sleep like a dog, and even if there was a break-in, he'd panic. "As though there's a damn thing worth stealing," he chuckled...hell, even kids begging for souvenirs would be a welcome sight. Oh, people still remembered him, but they quickly forgot the 'ballers he had trained. No matter, there would always be a future, somewhere.
	The streets were still not very crowded. It was too early in the afternoon for most of the factory workers to get out, and most housewives and househusbands would have finished their outings for the day. Esdoc walked up the street, glancing now and again into the family businesses, emerging like mushrooms at the feet of the apartment complexes. These were large and ugly, twisted tendrils of gray concrete fusing together to grasp as one, in vain, for the brown and cloudy sky overhead. No one was quite like another, and the clever could find their exact location within the city by picking out a particular shape or two. Black windows revealed nothing of the lives of the occupants; no one could afford to have a window this low anyway, what with the crime and vandalism.
	Esdoc made his way, thinking his own thoughts, until he came to a three-way intersection with a particular building jutting forward. He turned himself and walked up to the bright neon sign. White tubes spelled out "Joe's Bar--Liquid Feeling" --old Joe must have had a way with words, he thought. It was one of the jokes of the neighborhood--as far as anyone could remember, nobody named Joe had ever owned or worked in the place. Still, he had started a damn good business, and they would drink Joe's legacy when there was no other reason to drink for.
	Esdoc trotted down the steps and pushed open the door. It closed firmly behind him with the familiar jingling of a bell, a sort of last rite before another afternoon would go to an ethanol grave. He moved fluidly between a couple of empty tables and took his seat at the bar. Not much business, even for the time of day. A few of the regulars, some young couples chatting, a kid or two--gad, how young do they let them in these days?--and one cyborg slumped over in a corner, either in sorrow or stupor, it wasn't obvious through the haze and brown bottles.
	"Ed? What'll you go with?" Esdoc swiveled around in his chair to face the bartender. Vic was resting all three of his palms on the bar top and looking at him expectantly out of his eye. The bartender's shirt, modified with an added armhole about six centimeters below the left one, was swathed in patches of Motorballers' coats of arms. To Esdoc's surprise and sorrow, his new trainee's crossed blades had just been added.
	"Uh...just a beer." Vic smiled, knowing that it was his cue to perform. He stood up straight and reached behind him with all three arms. One grabbed a mug, one a bottle of beer, and one the bottle opener. All three converged on two different levels--the beer met the bottle opener just in time to be popped open and caught by the beer mug. He placed the mug in front of Esdoc, who clapped out of respect and amusement.
	"How much do I owe you?"
	"Eh, fifteen chips."
	Esdoc reached into his breast pocket with his left hand and withdrew the money. As he handed it forward, he felt his arm go painfully cold. Of course, it was cybernetic, it wasn't feeling any cold. It was his brain, damaged from his days of intense drug abuse, making him relive the side effects of the high; but his arm reacted to as it ought, shaking and quivering to generate heat. "Damn!" he said, and grabbed a small needle from out of its holster in his jacket pocket. Willing his arm to go limp (not that it did any good, but it was something he could do for himself), he wrenched the underside of his arm upwards and stabbed the needle into the socket in his arm. Within seconds the nerves in his arm were responding more normally, and he let out a sigh of relief.
	"More problems with the arm, Ed?"
	"No, just the same old ones. I'd go to a doctor, but I'm afraid he'll tell me it's getting worse. How's business?"
	"Slow day, but it should pick up. There's the game this evening, people always come for a drink." Alcohol was prohibited inside the Motorball arenas, so people would get their drinking over with before they went in. "Your boy going to be in another race soon?"
	Esdoc didn't reply for a moment, then leaned forward. "Just between us, OK Vic?" he whispered.
	Vic glanced around--nobody was within earshot. "No one's listening. What's happened?"
	Esdoc glanced around once more. He took a drink from his beer and murmured, "We had to fire Run Po."
	"Honest? What was the problem? He seemed like a good fighter, and I've watched his interviews, he behaved normally enough."
	"Yeah, he was the best guy that's crossed my path in a while. But, trouble is, he had his weakness." Esdoc paused to wave a greeting to a pair of the regulars, Dino and Yul, who were entering at the moment. They took a table towards the rear, and Esdoc went on. "Like most 'ballers, Run Po had been in a synthetic body all his life--I think he had some kind of birth defect, and his natural body wouldn't have survived. Anyway, his parents were in debt to the cyberdoc, so it was all they could do to get occasional replacement parts--never a full overhaul. So now, he gets a brand new humanoid body of his own, with a substantial income, guess what happens?"
	Vic shrugged his shoulders. "Wastes it, I guess."
	"Mm-hm. Sure, he sent some big chips home to his folks, he didn't suffer from the disease like some guys I've seen. But after every fight, he's got to replace a whole limb just because of a little scratch! It's from never having anything new, doesn't know what to do with the cash, tries to keep himself looking absolutely perfect."
	Vic sighed. "So, it finally reached a point?"
	"After the match a few days ago, he threatened to chop Lilaro into quarters for--get this--cutting him off on a turn. He goes berserk from what _might_ have happened. So I talked with Umba, I said 'This boy doesn't appreciate the risks of being a circuit rider.' We decided to buy him out of his contract." Somewhere in the back of the bar, a pair of voices was starting to rise.
	The bartender pushed another beer towards Esdoc. "Well, what will you do now? I mean, you've got enough in your purse, right?"
	"Yeah, I've got chips." But not enough to keep me forever, Vic. You're my friend, and I'll have my head up for the time, but you won't know when I go down. I've got too much...
	"I SAID GET AWAY FROM ME!!!"
	Even with his reactions still sped up from his days of drug use, Esdoc spun around on his seat a moment too late. By the time he had focused his eyes on where the shout had come from, Dino was in midair. The man was flying, back first, in a gentle arc away from the table where the cyborg had been. Esdoc followed his path across the bar towards the entry way. A split second before his neck was to hit the doorjamb, the door flew open, catching the back of Dino's legs. The sum of the forces carried him downwards through the door and into the group of unlucky patrons trying to enter.
	Ouch, thought Esdoc. If he hadn't gotten that clip, his head would have gone flying...
	The bartender started to reach under the table for a gun, but Esdoc held up his hand. "Vic, it's not worth your head. I've got an idea." Patrons were scrambling for the doors, and Yul was in midair arcing towards the stereo system; Esdoc took one fast look at the damage and walked towards the cyborg.
	As his eyes adjusted to the darkness in the back corner, he was able to take his first good look at her. She wasn't tall, maybe a meter and a half, with short black hair and light skin. She wore a black body suit and boots, or maybe shoes with spats. Her physique and her dress made her seem young; but her eyes, innocent yet spiked with a cankerous rage, told him otherwise. She was breathing heavily, her body alert but at ease, as she regarded her opponent's efforts to regain consciousness.
	In a moment, she had turned her gaze on Esdoc. The eyes seemed to take in every possible attack he could make on her. Good, he thought, let her think she's found her next target. "What are you looking at, mister?"
	"I'm looking at a little girl who's just bought herself a bar."
	"What?" The cyborg seemed confused for a moment, then gradually became alert to her surroundings. The anger ebbed out of her spirit, to be replaced by horror and fear. She started to raise her hands up to her face. "Oh...oh my goodness..."
	"I hate to break this to you, miss, but you've just destroyed a good deal of my friend's property. Right before peak hours, I might add, so he's not in a good mood. Plus, even though they were probably harassing you, you also attacked and nearly killed two other people. You're probably not going to end up as bounty, but you'll have to pay a fine. I don't suppose you brought too many chips with you when you left home this morning?"
	"No, I didn't, I mean I...oh, what have I done!" She slumped into a chair and began sobbing uncontrollably. "What will Ido think of me? I'll never be able to face another bounty hunter again, they'll think I'm a worthless lawbreaker, always out doing no good..." Esdoc let her keep it up for a minute, while he glanced around to make sure that Dino and Yul were still in one piece. When he figured that her head was a little more clear from her catharsis, he pulled up a chair beside her. "You know, I might be able to talk to my friends..."
	"...huh?"
	"Maybe, I could talk them into not reporting you for assault, and just pay for the damage you've done to the bar. Then you wouldn't be in trouble with the law, and you could continue with your life..."
	"Would you?" She looked up at him eagerly, then seemed to catch on. "Wait. What aren't you telling me?"
	"Listen," Esdoc said, "I notice that you've got some fighting ability. Well, I train kids like you for Motorball. If you were willing to go through the training, I might be willing to get you free. Think about it! All the glory of Motorball, all the combat you can take, and you can escape the law too. What do you say?"
	"Well, that's not so bad. I guess it's something to do with my life now. But..." The cyborg stared in front of her for a few seconds. Then, very quietly, she said "You're not _really_ giving me much choice, are you?"
	"It's a free world, isn't it? If you don't want to join the arena, that's fine, I'll just..."
	"You son of a bitch!" she shrieked. In one last fit of frustration she leapt up from her chair and shattered it in a single blow. "All right. Fine. You win. Just-just don't ever mention this again. In fact, forget that this is how we met."
	"Whatever you want, miss. I'm Esdoc. Call me Ed."
	"I-I'm Alita," she replied.
	Yeah, you probably are 'Alita'--you're not streetwise enough to use an alias. Yet. You're a strange girl, whoever you are--what's your story? What are you running from? A person, a feeling, or just the unknown? You're proud, sensitive, and both harsh and merciful; just training you is going to be hell for both of us, I can tell already. But I think you'll end up loving me, for that same strange reason all kids love their coaches. Maybe it's because, when you're out there on the circuit, I'll be putting enough faith in you to keep us both alive.