Sharp Objects

Atticus 4's gray sky seemed to sit heavily on Linq's shoulders as she flew through the hydro-transport canals and roadways on her trusty hover-skates. The guards were being more tenacious than usual, most days they'd give up after a couple warehouse blocks and simply report her to their HQ. Who in turn would add whatever crime she had committed to her ever growing list of offenses.  Turning sharply she ducked into an empty guard's station hiding behind the desk as the posse of confused warehouse guards ran past and piled into a small boat-- probably to search the canals some more.
She smoothly skated out once her pursuers were out of sight rounding another corner she headed back in the direction she had come from. 'Who took a dump in their breakfast this morning' Linq mused, she had only trying to get some lunch for her and the rest of the Sharps. 'Some people have no tolerance'. This wasn't unusual, Atticus 4 was a haven for orphans and vagabonds so robberies were commonplace there wasn't enough money to pay for sufficient guards, and there were too many supplies for a few food robberies to make a big difference. Besides, it's not like many of the kids lived long. The crueler guards tended to shoot their plasma guns at them 'amateurs'.
The Sharp Objects were professionals-- plasma guns were an everyday part of life. She air skidded so a stop in front of an old corroded warehouse with rusty numbers marking it 583-- this was home. Skating through the door she was greeted by her best friend Lieutenant who ran up to her, grinned, and grabbed the stolen cooler out of Linq's fishnet gloved hand.
Lieutenant didn't speak much, almost as a rule. In her outfit of blue tank top, black vest, jean shorts, set of long blue and grey fingerless gloves scarf and socks, plus tall gray lace-up street boots she seemed to contrast her best friend and mirror her at the same time-- right down to her teal shoulder length hair. Where she was cheerful Linq was stoic. She never spoke of her past, everyone knew where Linq had come from. Lieutenant adored Linq no matter what, Linq had given her a name.
"Oi! You get food Leader-Girl?"  called Rita who was over behind some furniture crates working on her retro sky-cycle, covered in grease and holding a large wrench. Rita was their newest member and resident mechanic, her baggy red sweatshirt and shorts clashed horribly with her bright purple hair. She was proud, a little stuck up, and extraordinarily stubborn. The rest of the group loved her for it, while she wasn't the youngest of the group she was naïve enough to be the pet of the group.
"Better be good," Specs muttered as she tucked her antique pistol into her high boot.  Decked out in khaki and black Specs was the most unapproachable of the group, her black cornrows stood out against her pale white skin. She had a thing for large metal zippers and spikes.
Meals were a somewhat rowdy affair, four hungry thief-girls sitting at a table bantering and scarfing down stolen food. It was one of Lieutenant's little unofficial rules; meals were to be eaten together. Break Lieutenant's rules at your own risk, but only if you want to face her double blades-- the ones strapped to her right arm at all times. Rita was always trying to hard to be tough, Linq making cheerfully biting comments, Specs good naturedly complaining, and Lieutenant smiling and serving everybody seconds.
Life was surprisingly good for the Sharp Objects--tough--but they had each other. A kooky all-girl makeshift vagabond family, but who cares. On the rough shipping planet of Atticus 4 you took what you could get, and they got plenty.