EDIT: Needs editing.
Maybe Chapter 1, maybe not.
The new arm was far too clean and shiny for Nebu, standing in contrast to his disheveled appearance. He sat at his table staring at his reflection on the prosthesis, ignoring the waiter that stood by his table. Nothing about Nebu gave the impression of prestige or wealth, though he'd been rich for the last several weeks. Scratching his unshaved chin, he averted his gaze from his arm to the menu. From among the foreign names, he chose nothing, told the waiter to get him a well cooked steak and a bottle of moonshine. The waiter left.
“Oh,” a woman sat sitting down across from Nebu, “I'm late.”
Nebu looked at her, slightly disgruntled.
“I like a man of a few words,” she spoke, “But you disappoint me, I thought you were the last man in the city, and now you're just like everyone else.”
Nebu didn't reply, and finally looked away from her. The purple circles around her eyes upset him.
“Are you mute? I just insulted you.”
“I don't know who you are,” Nebu finally said in reply. “Frankly, I couldn't care less. I'm too sober for that right now. Skat.”
She rolled her eyes, when the waiter came back, she told him she didn't want anything, and Nebu shook his head when asked if he wanted anything.
The woman opened her mouth to speak again, “I'm talking about your arm.”
Nebu replied while chewing, “I don't care, get out of here, you aren't pretty enough.”
She seemed slightly offended, but not enough to leave. While he ate, she seemed content with sitting quietly for the rest of the man's meal. When eventually he finished, he downed the whole bottle of whatever cheap wine he had ordered, dropped a wad of cash onto the table and left. The woman followed. They both got on the bus and sat across from each other, and looked without blinking, as if in a staring contest.
Again, she opened her mouth to speak, this time Nebu interrupted her, “I'm still not drunk enough, and you're still not pretty enough.” She didn't try to speak again. They got off the bus and walked down the street for a few minutes, turning into an alley. Up fire escape stairs, through a window into a cluttered apartment. Nebu opened his mini fridge, took out a bottle of vodka, and let himself fall onto a pile of money. He drank. The woman looked for a place to sit for a few moments, and then followed Nebu's example, and sat down onto another pile. Nebu walked into the bathroom for a minute, when he came out, he got another bottle, when he was done with it, he said, finally, “I'm drunk enough.”
“You should take off that jewelry you call an arm.”
“Alright, on one condition,” he slurred his words a bit, “I get to saw off yours.”
“No.”
“There's your answer.”
“You're the worst millionaire I've ever met, Nebu A,” she said with a hint of amusement.
“Yeah? Good,” he took off his shoes and dropped his pants. His right foot was a prosthesis like his arm.
“What're you doing?”
“You're a prostitute.”
The woman blinked to herself for a few moments, before rubbing her eyes with her index and thumb. “No.”
“You look like one,” he fell back onto his cash couch, without bothering to put his pants back on.
“You look like a worthless, jobless, piece of ##### drunk.”
“I am.”
She made a frustrated sigh, and jumped back into the obvious which he's been avoiding. “You aren't going to ask how I know your name?”
“No.”
“Or why I followed you?”
“I thought you were a whore,” Nebu said in a condescending tone.
She shrugged, and realized she should've figured that.
“I'll get right to the point then. You and I were the last people in this city who hadn't had cybernetic augmentations. Now I am the last. It's interesting that,” she was interrupted.
“No it isn't. I didn't have an arm or a leg. Leave if you aren't a whore.”
From her purse, she took out something resembling a firearm, and aimed it at Nebu, her eyes angered, and her lips smiling. “You're obviously undeserving to live.”
“I know that,” he threw the bottle in her direction and broke it against a wall when she ducked out of the way, she fired, missed, though some of the cash caught fire. Nebu managed to wrap the burning wad in his pants and throw them out of the window before the woman took another shot. “Heat ray's alien, it's illegal,” he muttered as he performed these actions.
The woman smiled, presumably at Nebu's lack of fear, and approached him. He stood without guard. “Come with me,” she said. Nebu shrugged in reply, and waited for her to head for the door. She moved behind him and goaded him on, then stopped. “Do you have any other pants?”
“No.”
“You really are a bum.”
She poked Nebu, making him walk through the door. He did so without much hesitation, only telling her to close the door behind her. She did.