Kylie late to the party

This is another short story I failed to write. I wrote this on the same day that I wrote Vyre the Barista.

Kylie giggles uncontrollably, making faces at her reflection in the holographic display of a mirror, the only source of light in the flooded alleyway, filthy dark water splashing against her ankles. Ring. Ring. Ring. Kylie glances at the message blinking on her heads up display and stops laughing. “Quacking poodles! I forgot! I’m supposed to be on my way to Greeci’s house!” Kylie hops through the ankle-high water in the musty slums, following the arrow on her heads up display, but upon taking her first step out of the alleyway, she squeals with excitement. “That is the cutest disciplinary enforcemoton I’ve ever seen!” The lion-sized metal automaton with four spider-like legs and two cylinders, cannons, pointing down at her. Its apertures glow red and its voice buzzes with venomous anger. “Bzz. Curfew for Floodwaters District is 18th dawn; you are hereby under arrest for curfew violation. Comply or be reduced to ash.”

…

Three men in leather coats stand over a huddled figure. They’re rifling through a bag while the huddled man whimpers. Kylie forces herself to look away from the strangers. She tries to focus on the arrow leading her towards Greeci’s house.