Splice

The lights in the bar were low, the corner table dimmer than most due to a blown globe. A red-haired woman leaned forward, the large scar running down her face visible in the half-light now.

‘I want to be able to teleport,’ she said.

A scrawny man, feeling very nervous about this whole transaction, gulped and anxiously shifted his glasses back up his face. Before he spoke he looked around to make sure he wasn’t seen, then held his hand over his empty glass, it filled with water from his palm.

‘You want a refill?’ he asked.

The woman held back a look of disgust.

‘Err, no thanks. I’m okay.’

‘Well, a specific ability will cost extra … there’s a lot we still don’t know. It’ll have to be tested on the subjects first, or you could get something … unexpected.’

He took a nervous sip of his water, the red-haired woman felt sick watching on.

‘Can you do it?’ she asked, her eyes catching the TV.

Another news report about the goody goody Kismet. Robbing banks was already a challenge, with him about, she needed an advantage, but it wouldn’t come cheap.

This was an investment for the future.

The bottom text crawl mentioned some dirt-bag being busted for messing with his step-daughter, while the newscaster blushed over yet another feat of the city’s hero.

‘What did he do this time? Save a cat from a tree?’ she scoffed.

‘You don’t like him?’ the scrawny man asked.

‘Who gets powers like that out of nowhere and goes all "saviour of the world" with them?’

The scrawny man shifted awkwardly out of his seat. The woman placed an envelope, thick with cash, in front of him.

‘When?’

He picked it up.

‘Two days, miss …?’

‘Splice, call me ... Splice.’