Mike laughed. “Yeah, that’s what Topes and I call GHB and cranberry juice. It really hits the spot after shooting something. I can make you guys some, uh, human-sized portions.”

“No, thanks,” Manny and Reggie said at the exact same time.

The big man handed one glass to Topaz and belted down the other himself. The woman took two gulps to finish hers. She handed her cup to Mike, and he walked back to the bar to fill both glasses again. Reggie looked shocked.

“I’m fairly sure you both just ingested enough GHB to kill two normal humans.”

“Eh,” Topaz shrugged. “I’d say what we’ve had so far is only about 70 percent of a fatal dose for someone of your size, metabolism and modifications. Skully’s better at drugging people though.”

Skullfucker Mike finished pouring two more G-tinis and nodded. “She’s about right. The Brit drinks more, though. I’d say he could take a heavier dose than– what’s your name again?”

“Manny,” Manny gasped out. “And, um, would it be too much to ask for like, some medical care? We are both in tremendous pain.”

Topaz and Skullfucker Mike looked ashamed.

“Ah jeez,” Topaz sighed.

“Fuckin’ hell guys, we’re so sorry,” added Mike. Then he grabbed a long knife from his belt and gouged it deep into his wrist. Reggie damn near jumped out of his chair. Manny kept still. The pills had started to help but he was in too much pain to react to anything with gusto.

“It’s alright,” Topaz assured them in the kind of voice Manny remembered his mom using on their cat when it was sick. “I know it looks weird, but he’s helping.”

“Helping–?!” Reggie gasped as Skullfucker Mike positioned his open wound over a shot glass, jammed the knife slightly to the left, and let a thick strand of his syrupy red blood fill the glass. He filled a second one in the same manner. Then he pulled the knife free, set it on the bar counter and handed the shots to Manny and Reggie. By the time he reached them Manny noticed that the big man’s wounded arm had already scabbed over.

“Don’t worry,” Skullfucker Mike smiled, “my blood’s pretty sterile. And it’s full of good robots. They’ll take care of ya.”

Manny took the shot right away. He knew it was working when he felt pain from the wounds in his back again. That meant Mike’s blood had fixed whatever godawful thing happened to his knee well enough that it barely throbbed.

“Mierda santa,” the curse slipped out. Manny felt better. Great, in fact. But kinda queasy at the same time? He felt somehow…in motion, almost as if his whole body were shifting and burbling like the contents of his gut. The fixer glanced at his journalist and nodded to the empty shot.

“It’s, ah. It’s good.”