The entire world is engaged in a superpowered war, with portions of the eastern seaboard already considered a loss, and yet a person can still make their way into a hole-in-the-wall convenience store in a run-down neighbourhood and buy a stack of dirty magazines. A robotic spider crawls a brick wall and sweeps its cybernetic gaze over the woman making her way home with her purchases in a brown paper sack. They aren't for her. N...ot that she ever made any attempt to convince anyone that they aren't.

And if she thought about it much, she might feel a little odd about the fact that if she squinted, and - she supposes - covered one eye, the blonde woman in the centrefold could be her. A younger version of her, anyway. Her partner likes to remind her every so often that she isn't as young as she once was. But the curves of her body were similar once, and she still wears those spiked heels. Okay, so she has thought about it some, but she chooses not to think anything of it beyond that. That would require exercising more forethought and care than she's willing to spare these days. Evading the scrutiny of the government she works for is a second full-time job in and of itself.

Odessa has to turn her head to spare a glance for the mechanical arachnid. Though she hasn't quite gotten over her fear of what they represent to her, and to everyone like her, she's long since made her peace with the fact that Big Brother isn't going to be turning a blind eye (ha) any time soon. She lights up a cigarette that she has a prescription for, thanks to aforementioned partner, and carries on.

If they come for her, it won't be in the streets anyway.