ã€ŠShattered Glass - A Cyberpunk Noir Crime Thrillerã€‹


 Chapter 1 - Arc I: Not All That Glitters is Gold

    My father¡¯s casket was in front of me, slowly being lowered down, the truck¡¯s pullies whining as they worked. My father, Vincent Walker, had been well respected in the community. When he passed, the press wanted to have a piece, but we said no. In the end, all they got was a small obituary dedicated to the man he once was; something that hopefully wouldn¡¯t come back to bite us.

    Around me was a small cluster of my father¡¯s friends and our family from both sides. The ground squelched beneath my feet, and I felt myself sinking with every step I took. It would be my turn soon to say a final goodbye.

    The breath caught in my lungs. There were so many things I still needed to say ¨C things that were never said. We were a tight-lipped family. The five of us felt a sense of comfort in silence. We often spent our time together without saying what actions could tell instead.

    There was so much love that it didn¡¯t need to be said and when there was all the time left in the world, it seemed like enough. Then there were only four of us left. Now, there were only three ¨C Ethan, Noah, and me. It just didn¡¯t cut it anymore; it didn¡¯t feel the same.

    They say that water cleanses the soul, but the rain had done nothing to soothe me. My father. It was just under a week ago. I thought I was ready; everyone knows that they will outlive their parents someday. I got the call late at night. And what could I say? I ended the call without a word and soldiered on forward like I always have.

    Every word I had to say was told in the items left behind in my parents¡¯ house. It was filled with a lifetime of memories. The most precious of which were not items at all, but the signs of a life well lived. There were stains from the mud trails on the carpet. Dozens of paths taken by tiny feet over many summer months. My mother had painstakingly tried to scrub them away, but they always came back, a little darker every year.

    Those summer months were precious to me. I was wild. I used to hike up my skirts and run off to the fields with the boys. We¡¯d climb trees, catch frogs, and play in the creek, testing the boundaries of what we could get away with. At night, we¡¯d come back home smiling, exhausted, and covered in mud. You should have seen her face then; the disapproval was palpable. ¡®It¡¯s bad enough with just the boys,¡¯ she¡¯d say.

    My childhood home was beautiful in its prime. Now, the walls were covered with peeling green floral wallpaper. My mother had insisted on them. After her death, the house was like a moment frozen in time. It was practically a mausoleum. While we were there, clearing everything away, we felt desperate to get it over with. In an attempt to make what was unbearable tolerable, we turned on the holoscreen.

    It flickered and buzzed until a cheerful meteorologist popped up and waved his arms about, talking about clear skies. And that was it; it was decided. The three of us set the date for May 5<sup>th</sup>, a day that was supposed to be perfect. Instead, what we got were heavy, gray skies with no sun in sight.

    It didn¡¯t feel like home. It wasn¡¯t home. It was made empty, and then it was sold. Now we were laying my father to rest for the final time, and I wasn¡¯t ready. Not yet.

    Before I knew it, I had made it to the front. And I had almost forgotten where I was, lost in memories of days long past. The casket stared up at me from below. Then, the wilted rose in my hand fell softly on top of his casket and I said nothing. There was nothing left to say because there were more words caught up inside of me than I could fit into a single farewell. Instead, I cried. No, I wept. And then the rain washed away my tears.

    There would be no celebration. My father, being a practical man, had asked for something quick and simple. ¡®Just get it over with,¡¯ he had said. Sometimes, it was a blessing. Sometimes it was a curse. Today, I didn¡¯t know which it was. Then, I watched as soft, wet earth was piled on top of him, and he disappeared from me forever.

    I remembered then a psalm: ¡°By the sweat of your face you shall eat bread, till you return to the ground, for out of it you were taken; for you are dust, and to dust you shall return.¡± Genesis 3:19. Sometimes, in my line of work, you forget that you are only human. Even I forgot sometimes, in my hubris.

    The rain was still pouring. My brothers, Ethan and Noah, begged me to come with them. They wanted me out of the rain, but I wanted space. After several attempts, they eventually gave each other a knowing look, shrugged, and went on without me. I was the last one then, standing there alone.

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    Eventually, when my hands had grown numb, I dragged my stubborn body to the parking lot. And then I was in my car, turning the ignition, and heading homeward bound. I caught my face in the rear-view mirror.

    Today I hadn¡¯t been Detective Walker, a leading detective in my precinct; I was just Lana Walker, a member of the Walker family and my father¡¯s only daughter, a position that never fit just right. I knew who I was as a detective, but who I was as Lana, the Lana that was just a woman? I was still working on that.

    Filing a role was easy, being an individual was more complicated. My badge gave me a title; it gave me criteria to meet and a checklist to complete. There was no such guide on being a woman. At least, none that I was willing to follow.

    I knew I wasn''t the kind of daughter my mother wanted; I knew it from the start. I was too rowdy, too strange. No, I wasn¡¯t a proper daughter, at least not to her. She would often fuss over me, equally confused and speechless.

    I had inherited my father¡¯s stature. Standing at five feet and eleven inches tall, I was well above the average height for a woman. My mother¡¯s family thought I was strange and today it had been painfully obvious; it was in the quiet part no one said out loud.

    All day while my father¡¯s family and friends gave me their condolences. Those from my father¡¯s side shared heartfelt stories with me and gushed over how much I looked like him, and I did. His friends told me what a good man he was and how, without him, the world was a little less bright. Meanwhile, those from my mother¡¯s side had stayed pointedly silent.

    You could say that I certainly was my father¡¯s daughter. The only hints of my mother were in my eyes and my skin. I had her eyes and a slightly bronze skin tone. They were such subtle indicators of my Asian heritage that most people didn¡¯t notice. I looked predominantly Caucasian, something my mother¡¯s family scrunched their noses at. To their chagrin, it was my brothers that had taken after my mother, not me.

    Then, I was on the road, and I was driving past all the city lights. Whether you wanted entertainment or debauchery, this was the place to be. Ads blared on every street corner from holographic screens on skyscrapers from overhead. Large gleaming women smiled at you with artificial cheer, selling you what would make you better, good enough.

    My phone rang, knocking me out of my thoughts. Scowling slightly, I answered the call.

    ¡°Hey, Lana. It¡¯s me,¡± he said.

    ¡°Gabe,¡± I sighed. ¡°How did I know you¡¯d be calling me today?¡±

    It was Gabe, full name Gabriel Grant, at work he introduced himself as Detective Grant. I¡¯ll admit that it has a ring to it. He was my partner and one of the only people I would trust with my life. His disembodied voice was cast through my car¡¯s speakers. Normally, I would have answered the call with my Iris, but I wasn¡¯t going to wear it today.

    ¡°Disappointed?¡±

    ¡°No, you know it¡¯s not like that.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, yeah, I know. I¡¯m just giving you a hard time,¡± he said. ¡°How are you holding up?¡±

    ¡°About as well as can be expected,¡± I replied.

    ¡°And how¡¯s that?¡± he asked.

    ¡°You know how it is,¡± I shrugged. ¡°I suppose you could say that I¡¯ve been better.¡± Pausing, I continued, ¡°Is that all you wanted?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, just thought I¡¯d check up on you,¡± he admitted.

    ¡°Worrying about me, huh?¡± I scoffed. ¡°Save it for someone else.¡±

    ¡°Why? It¡¯s not like I¡¯m gonna run out of the stuff,¡± he huffed.

    ¡°Sure,¡± I responded. ¡°Mind if I let you go now? It¡¯s been a long day.¡±

    ¡°Nah, get some rest. Something big is coming up. You¡¯ll need it.¡±

    I heard a click and the transmission cut out and then it was too quiet. Waving my hand in the air, I motioned to my virtual assistant. The holo-screen on my dash came to life, illuminating me with a soft glow.

    ¡°No visuals,¡± I said and then there were only voices.

    Overdramatic voices filled the cabin, a sappy soap opera was playing tonight. No doubt, it was one of those overplayed love triangles. Not exactly my cup of tea, but it was a sweet distraction.

    Distraction was what I always wanted, and it was what I always got. There was no shortage of distraction in Volare City, the name was Latin. Perhaps someone more idealistic than me had meant for this city to soar. Did it? I couldn¡¯t say. After all, this was the city that never slept.

    Neon lights cast colorful shadows from all the heavily imbued patrons stumbling around the red-light district at all hours of the night. Street performers fighting for tips and praise lined the streets. It was a dog-eat-dog world.

    Look at me, look at this, look again¨Cthat was what the entire city fed on and wherever there was hunger, there was crime. That¡¯s where I came in. This city was rotten, and I lived off saving the people from themselves.

    Eventually, the voices from the show melded together and my head was empty, and the only thing left was the road. And I drove. And I drove. And I drove some more. The smooth hum of the motor soothed my nerves and my clothes stuck to me in the way clothes always does when it dries to your skin.

    I would have sworn off funerals forever if I could have, but that¡¯s not how it worked. No, you don¡¯t get to decide who lives or dies, not even in my line of work. I don¡¯t get to play God; no one does.

 Chapter 2 - Arc I: Not All That Glitters is Gold

    The sky was still overcast when I woke up the next morning, and the humidity from yesterday¡¯s rain was oppressive. I could have slept forever, and I would have if not for my alarm, which went off at exactly seven on the dot. The ordinary chime felt strangely intrusive today, and I had a few choice words to say about it. Muttering under my breath, I shifted to rise from my bed.

    Shock. I froze from the pain shooting through my shoulders. I had been coiled like a spring about the snap since yesterday, and now I was paying for it. If this is what my body thought about it, maybe it had some choice words for me too. I felt stiff, and I rolled my neck and shoulders to compensate. Better.

    The dull pain still lingered as I made my way to the bathroom. Soon the pangs of pain melted away under cold running water. I closed my eyes and inhaled. There was the familiar scent of soap, both fragrant and floral. My own little remedy; my little way to take the edge off.

    If I had any sense, I would have taken the day off, but doing so would have felt like admitting defeat and I was a lot of things, but I wasn¡¯t a quitter. As far as I was concerned, the last thing I needed was more time alone with my thoughts.

    My hair, still tangled from the day before, fought me, and for a moment, I thought my comb wasn¡¯t going to make it. Fortunately, my clothes were more cooperative. I shrugged into my coat and stepped out the door.

    If I thought the humidity was bad before, it was worse now. I was wearing my usual work attire; a simple black trench coat emblazoned with my precinct¡¯s patch on the arm, a shield with a large eye emanating rays like the sun front and center. Under it, I wore a grey button-up shirt and a black tie paired with black slacks. It was an outfit that was, regrettably, not hospitable to the weather.

    All that was left now was the commute, and I¡¯d be standing in front of the front doors of the precinct. This time, the drive did nothing for my nerves. Perhaps it was arrogance, but I found it disconcerting how the city continued to go on, business as usual, no matter how much I lost inside its borders. I¡¯m not a fool; I know I¡¯m just a cog in the machine, but so is everyone else.

    The precinct was a tall gray building, four stories high, just enough to cast long shadows over the street. It spanned half a block, but most of it was empty. Our forces were gutted more and more year by year, and the sheer heft of the place was now mostly for show. Perhaps it would have been given away by peeking inside, but a black film was applied to all our windows. That was good enough to keep away the prying eyes of the public for now.

    Gabe was standing by the front entrance when I arrived. He had a head of short, cropped dark brown hair and a five o''clock shadow along his jaw. His rumpled olive-green trench coat was paired with a beige button-up shirt and a loose, black tie. Same old, same old. Both of us were creatures of habit.

    I came to a stop in front of him, stuffing my hands in my pockets.

    ¡°You look surprised, Gabe. Did you think I wouldn¡¯t show?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Nah, I know you, Lana. Nothing keeps you from what you do best,¡± he said.

    ¡°You know me.¡±

    ¡°You sure you¡¯re up for this?¡± he asked.

    His eyes narrowed as they fixed on me. Gabe had been my partner since my promotion to the Special Crimes Unit; back then, we were both rookie detectives and practically raring to go. We hadn¡¯t lost our shine for justice, but with time came perspective, and we no longer deluded ourselves into thinking that we could save the world.

    ¡°Of course, I am,¡± I lied, already heading towards our office. He kept pace beside me.

    ¡°Lana, you¡¯re not thinking straight,¡± Gabe said. ¡°I don¡¯t want you falling apart on me.¡±

    ¡°I won¡¯t,¡± I lied again, picking up my pace. Gabe fell silent and trailed along beside me.

    The office was a clear departure from the image of power that the exterior projected. It was orderly and all beige and white. Rows of desks sat unoccupied, collecting dust; the only two left in this department were Gabe and I. I suppose we were a bit grateful for the breathing room, but the empty space also reminded us of lost potential.

    Opposite the entryway was an abstract painting hung on the wall. It was new, but it looked almost the same as the last. I don¡¯t know why anyone bothered to change it. It was the sort of art that said nothing ¨C perfect for corporate offices and apparently good enough for us.

    Astrid Blackwood, or rather Lieutenant Blackwood, was sitting at her desk, hands folded and brows creased. She was a fixture in this office that seemed to come and go with the wind. What she did when she wasn¡¯t ordering us around wasn¡¯t our concern. She did not tell us, and we did not ask questions. Without so much as raising her head, she addressed me.

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    ¡°Go home, Lana. You¡¯re in no state to work,¡± she snapped.

    ¡°Lieutenant Blackwood, with all due respect, I believe that what I need right now is not to be cooped up at home all day. I belong in the field, working the streets, and doing what I do best. We both know that I have always done good work.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s got a point, Lieutenant,¡± Gabe interjected.

    Lowering her gaze, she studied me over the top of her wire frame glasses, her hands still clasped firmly together. Then after a moment of silence, she answered me.

    ¡°I¡¯ll let it slide for today, Detective Walker, but if you slip up, I¡¯m sending you home. Are we clear?¡±

    ¡°Clear as crystal,¡± I replied. It wasn¡¯t exactly a standing ovation, but I¡¯d take it.

    Turning her attention to business as usual, she continued as if nothing had happened. ¡°This is the next case I want you two working on.¡±

    Clapping her hands together, the holographic projector began to whirr, the thing was ancient, and it was slow enough to prove it.

    ¡°As you are already well aware, there¡¯s been a surge in radicalization over the years.¡±

    ¡°The people are suffering; desperation leads to unrest,¡± I said.

    ¡°You are quite correct Detective Walker.¡± She nodded. ¡°We have just been handed quite a unique case. What sets it apart is that the body has been arranged deliberately. It is suspected that this is not a run of the mill murder case. Consequently, it has been handed off from the grunts and entrusted to us instead,¡± she stated flatly.

    After a bit of sputtering, the projector began to show a fuzzy flickering sphere in the center of the room. It hovered in front of us. The thing was practically a fossil, but it wasn¡¯t in the budget to replace anything that wasn¡¯t broken. We worked with what we got.

    ¡°Mr. Walker, can you hear us?¡±

    ¡°Loud and clear,¡± Ethan replied, his voice sounded grainy in the overhead speakers.

    ¡°I can¡¯t believe you, Ethan. Weren¡¯t you just trying to convince me to take some time off work yesterday?¡±

    ¡°What can I say? There¡¯s no rest for the wicked.¡±

    ¡°He got you there,¡± Gabe chuckled.

    Lieutenant Blackwood clicked her tongue impatiently.

    ¡°Show us what you have for us, Mr. Walker.¡±

    ¡°Certainly, I¡¯ll pull up the information you requested earlier.¡±

    After a bit of whirring, the projector spat out the portrait of a young man; his details were neatly arranged in a box of text to the side. His name was Nathan Ming, a young Chinese man in his mid-twenties. At the time of his death, he was unemployed and possibly struggling financially. Nothing about his appearance stuck out to me. His hair, demeanor, and dress were perfectly ordinary; he could have been anybody.

    ¡°What do we know about him?¡± I asked, knitting my brows together.

    ¡°VCPD received multiple distress calls from him, often while he was at home. He was convinced he was being watched, but he wouldn¡¯t say why. His calls were brushed off as insubstantial, but in less than a month, he turned up dead.¡±

    Ethan adjusted our vantage point on the projector. The portrait and profile switched to a short clip of the man himself. It was dated only a week before his death.

    ¡°This is the last footage we have of him alive. It¡¯s not a lot but it¡¯s worth a watch.¡±

    The victim, clearly distressed, was leaning over the front desk of the precinct, grabbing the receptionist by the shoulders. He was in a bit of a cold sweat, pit stains clearly visible, and he jerked as he moved. The audio was scratchy, and it took a bit of focus to make out his words.

    ¡°You have to believe me,¡± he begged. ¡°I¡¯m in danger!¡±

    The receptionist, clearly frightened, only answered him with a placating statement, her hands up in surrender.

    ¡°Sir, please calm down.¡±

    Finally, in frustration, he released her and staggered backwards.

    ¡°You people don¡¯t understand anything,¡± he said before forcing his way back through the front doors and taking off down the street.

    ¡°The victim recently had his limbs replaced with illegal cybernetic enhancements. We¡¯re talking heavily invasive surgery here, total limb replacement. The limbs are cleaved off at the joints and replaced with synthetic counterparts. Most only use it as a last resort.¡±

    ¡°Medical history?¡±

    ¡°None; he had a clean bill of health; the only medical issues we found postmortem were complications with his prosthetics. More importantly, his body was arranged deliberately in a ritualistic way. You¡¯ll know what I mean when you see it.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll take your word for it,¡± I said.

    ¡°Your job is to find out who killed him, determine if this death can be tied to radicalization, and bring them in,¡± Lieutenant Blackwood said. ¡°I will not tolerate any mistakes.¡±

    We nodded easily.

    ¡°Do we have any leads?¡± I asked.

    ¡°We have his address,¡± Ethan answered. ¡°Head on over there and I¡¯ll walk you through the crime scene.¡±

    Pleased with the efficient meeting, Lieutenant Blackwood gestured with her hand, lighting our Irises up. They pinged, informing us that we had just been transferred data. Thankfully, we were approved for the Iris lenses last year. The glasses we were stuck with before then were clunky and a liability in a fight.

    These contact lenses, on the other hand, could do everything those glasses could without the risk of being knocked off your face. We, like most people, preferred to avoid unnecessary surgery. Neither Gabe nor I were itching for ocular replacement surgery, still the strongest option on the market.

    ¡°That¡¯s all I have for you for now,¡± Ethan said.

    ¡°Thank you, Ethan, I¡¯ll let you go now.¡±

    Ethan clicked the receiver, ending the call.

    Returning her attention to us, Lieutenant Blackwood spoke with authority.

    ¡°You know what to do,¡± she said.

    ¡°We won¡¯t let you down,¡± I confirmed.

    ¡°Good, then I¡¯ll leave you two to it.¡±

    Lieutenant Blackwood nodded; her gaze lingered on us. I felt a weight of expectation that reminded me of my mother. However, unlike my mother, she lacked a soft touch. No, the Lieutenant was not gentle, and there would be no leniency here. I wouldn¡¯t risk disappointing her when I had just begged to be put on the case. We were already heading down the hallway when the door slammed shut behind us.

 Chapter 3 - Arc I: Not All That Glitters is Gold

    The precinct¡¯s parking garage was towards the back of the building. It wasn¡¯t pretty; all plain concrete and hard edges. The only bits of color were in the faded painted lines, marked with tire tracks, in a shade of dull yellow. Our cruiser sat in the back. It was an unmarked vehicle, perfect for slipping under the radar. Unlike the cops that patrolled the city, our work often required discretion.

    I slid into the passenger side. Gabe always took the wheel; he was a better driver, and I was a better shot. We¡¯d had this arrangement for a while, and it worked for us. All the cruisers stank of stale leather and burnt coffee; Gabe liked it, but I was ambivalent. You could say that it was a feature, not a bug.

    Neither of us spoke. I tapped my index finger on the passenger side door ¨C a nervous habit I had never grown out of.

    ¡°Thanks for vouching for me today, I really needed that,¡± I said.

    ¡°Don''t mention it. We''re partners, we look out for each other,¡± he replied.

    I grinned. There was something to be said for simplicity. Neither of us wasted time on things that didn¡¯t need to be said. We rolled out onto the streets and headed towards Haven Heights, the area in which the victim resided. It was an area we were quite familiar with, mainly because a lot of our calls came out of it. People didn¡¯t live there if they didn¡¯t have to.

    The ride was bumpy; these streets were riddled with potholes and lackluster patch jobs. Concrete, gravel, asphalt ¨C whatever did the job was good enough. Once in a blue moon, we¡¯d get misguided, angry callers to the precinct complaining about how our taxes kept going up but our quality of life kept going down. ¡®The money,¡¯ they said, ¡®was clearly going somewhere.¡¯

    Unfortunately, there was nothing we could do about it; it just wasn¡¯t our department. We only worked on cases that involved murder, death, or missing people. Politics was a whole other can of worms. Quite frankly, we were becoming a bit of an endangered species. None of us were paid very well. People in this line of work either considered it a calling or were in it for the bribe money.

    The crooked sign up ahead was pockmarked with bullet holes. Clearly, it had been target practice for somebody. Turning past it, we found ourselves in the parking lot of the Citrus Grove Apartments, the name sounded refreshing, the reality was less so. If I was being especially generous, I would have said it was a nice place to live.

    ¡°Let¡¯s try the elevator,¡± Gabe said.

    The color on the buttons was worn away, and if not for the indentations of arrows, they would have been identical. We pressed the up button a few times; it buzzed, but it didn¡¯t do much else. It took us a while to notice a scrap of paper by our feet. It was a handwritten note torn out of a notebook. ¡®Out of Order¡¯ it said. Classy.

    ¡°Thing¡¯s busted,¡± Gabe observed.

    ¡°We¡¯re taking the stairs then,¡± I sighed.

    The stairs took us past the main lobby. It was a small room with bulletproof glass, shielding the person at the register from potentially unsavory company. Once we were higher up, it gave us perspective. There must have been at least a hundred units in the place all together. With that many units in a building of this size, they must have been like closets.

    Coming across the first door by the stairs, we knocked on it briskly. A small, elderly woman with stringy gray hair cracked open the door and peered at us from behind her glasses. The chain lock was still hooked, denying entry. It was a good thing we had not expected to be popular.

    ¡°Good afternoon, ma¡¯am. I am Detective Walker, and this is my partner, Detective Grant.¡± We flashed our badges. ¡°We just have a few questions to ask you about a¨C.¡±

    She slammed the door in our face.

    ¡°That went about as well as expected,¡± Gabe said.

    We knocked on every door on his floor, but no one wanted to talk. All we had to show for our hard work was a lot of doors slammed in our faces and an hour less of time. Nobody liked the cops around here. Often, even the businesses and locals that depended on our protection were wary of us.

    In a perfect world, we could have done more for them, but the precinct¡¯s call center was a graveyard of dropped calls. We had more calls than we could ever answer in a lifetime and enough misconduct to make the calls we did answer worth less than they should have.

    ¡°No one wants to talk today,¡± Gabe observed.

    ¡°No,¡± I huffed. ¡°It¡¯s never that easy.¡±

    ¡°Would be nice if it was though,¡± he quipped.

    After interviewing the other tenants turned into a dead end, we headed to room 226. It was the unit our victim, Nathan Ming, lived in. I looked forward to cracking open his front door, which was currently cordoned off with holographic caution tape ¨C nothing our badge couldn¡¯t solve; it vanished when we pressed it to the door.

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    It was like people watching; the way people lived was written all over their homes. The organization, the items kept, the things displayed, and what was or wasn¡¯t thrown away spoke volumes, and they were a good substitute in leu of a living man. We were looking for anything that could give us an idea of who he was and what he was up to.

    Fortunately, it did not take us long to find the crime scene. The spot where he died greeted us as we walked in, front and center; there was no breathing room to be found. A rope was still hanging from the ceiling fan; the spot where his body was had telltale stains of blood and was cordoned off with markers. We got in position and sent Ethan a ping, tapping our index and middle fingers to our temples.

    ¡°Ethan,¡± I said. ¡°We¡¯re ready for you.¡±

    ¡°About time, I was beginning to think you forgot about me. It almost hurt my feelings,¡± he replied, sarcastic. ¡°Get ready; this one is rather nasty.¡±

    His voice came out loud and clear through our earpieces. They were linked with our Irises. It helped not to have to carry a phone ¨C just one less item to worry about.

    ¡°That bad, huh?¡± Gabe asked.

    ¡°That bad,¡± Ethan confirmed.

    Our Irises flickered and then displayed the scene before us with a mangled corpse splayed out across it. It was Nathan Ming alright. I recognized his face and build immediately. He was slumped, but sat upright, held in place by the weight of his body. I considered how many years he lost, dying the age he did. That was another thing about Volare City. People lived fast and died young.

    ¡°Looks like he hung himself,¡± Gabe said. ¡°Or somebody else did it for him.¡±

    A dark blue-purple ring lined his neck. His body was arranged in a prayer pose. The hands of his now detached arms were bound together with string in front of him. His legs, if they were still attached, would have thematically been kneeling. They laid to his sides.

    The flesh closest to the connection points of his artificial limbs were bloody and mangled, like the flesh and body were fighting to be apart, it was a clear-cut case of rejection. However, rejection did not explain why they were laid out on the floor, encircling his body. Somebody had gone through the trouble of ripping off his limbs.

    ¡°Geez, what happened to him?¡± Gabe muttered. ¡°Looks like those things mangled him.¡±

    ¡°Looks like more than that,¡± I added, raising my brows.

    You would think that with synthetic limbs the issue of rejection would be resolved, if only it were that easy. Synthetic body parts were designed to emulate their natural counter parts as closely as possible; therefore, they connected straight to the nervous system instead of simply intercepting signals.

    Occasionally, there were cases of toxic shock or malfunctions, when the body refused to accept the new replacements. With Nathan Ming, it was obviously a case of both. Without immunosuppressants, a person¡¯s body could reject the implants, attempting to force them out of the body while the modifications themselves, could wreak havoc on the points of contact, refusing to let go. The union of flesh and metal was, after all, not always beautiful or seamless.

    Ethan adjusted our view, spinning the man around. His back faced us now and three dots were burned into a triangular arrangement between his shoulder blades. An eye was seared into the center, reminiscent of the eye of God, a symbol of the holy trinity.

    ¡°I can see why a connection to radicalization is suspected,¡± I said. ¡°Whoever did this went through a lot of trouble to arrange his body this way.¡±

    ¡°What are you thinking?¡± Gabe asked.

    ¡°I can¡¯t really say,¡± Ethan replied. ¡°It¡¯s obvious that there are ritualistic elements here, but it¡¯s too early to say if they¡¯re authentic or a red herring. Additionally, there are no records of any specific groups using this combination of symbols in the system. At least, not yet.¡±

    ¡°Great, I love a challenge,¡± I said. ¡°We should go over this place with a fine-tooth comb; make sure we don¡¯t miss anything.¡±

    ¡°Already ahead of you,¡± Gabe said, walking off. Well, walking off might have been an overstatement, considering that it was only a few steps to the nearest wall. To say the space was cramped was an understatement. I was right when I called these things closets.

    ¡°If you¡¯re taking the front I¡¯ll take the back,¡± I said.

    There wasn¡¯t much to look at. The bed was barren, only covered in the essentials other than aged blood stains, likely caused by the rejection. The only noteworthy items other than the body were the proliferation of ether dispensers; they littered the floor. Nathan was apparently a junkie. However, ether usage was rampant and completely legal. Everyone in the city used; it was an open secret.

    There was a small bin by the side of his bed made of mesh wire. It was filled to the brim with wadded-up gauze and small, crinkled sheets of paper, mostly receipts from Yang¡¯s Diner. Yang¡¯s Diner¡­. The name struck me. Where had I seen it before?

    ¡°Found something?¡± Gabe asked.

    ¡°Receipts mostly. To a Yang¡¯s Diner¡­¡± I paused, thinking. ¡°It just seems familiar.¡±

    ¡°D¨¦j¨¤ vu?¡±

    ¡°Maybe,¡± I murmured, tossing it back in. ¡°But I doubt takeout is going to help us.¡±

    Gabe gave me a look. ¡°Hey, you were staring at that thing like it smacked your mother. That¡¯s not nothing. Let¡¯s take it back with us and have Ethan take a look at it.¡±

    ¡°If you insist,¡± I muttered and added it to our evidence carrier. ¡°There were quite a few receipts to the place, the guy might have been a regular. We might get some intel if we follow up on it.¡±

    ¡°See? What would you do without me?¡± he asked.

    I would have said something about that, but I didn¡¯t want to encourage him. The rest of the day was more of the same: walking around and studying anything that seemed out of place or special. After we were satisfied that we had scoured the whole place for clues, we packed up and headed back with everything worth taking.

    Of particular interest was a chipped tooth. I spotted it wedged in a crack under the couch. Splatters of blood were found nearby. Clearly, he hadn¡¯t gone down without a fight. Whether it belonged to the victim or one of our mystery men, it remained to be seen.

    We submitted all the evidence when we got back to the precinct. It would take some time for it to be analyzed. I ended the day feeling both relieved and exhausted. This was what I needed; this was what I wanted; and this was what I asked for. I wasn¡¯t about to go back and admit defeat now. Sleep came to me easily, and that night I dreamed of nothing.

 Chapter 4 - Arc I: Not All That Glitters is Gold

    I was woken the next morning by a woman¡¯s haunting melodic voice, Marla and the Ghost. She was one of my favorite artists, people weep at her concerts, moved to tears by her voice. She was powerful and evocative; I liked that about her. However, I liked it less at this hour. It meant I was getting a call. I kept the ringtone to my work line professional, but I had taken advantage of the leniency I had with my own personal device.

    Squinting out the window by my bed, my eyelids fought me. It was early, too early, not even dawn yet. Outside of death and hellfire, people weren¡¯t meant to wake in the dark. I¡¯ve said that before and I still stand by it. There was only one person who would call me at such an ungodly hour on my personal line¨CEthan, my older brother.

    ¡°Oh great, speak of the devil and he will appear,¡± I groaned.

    ¡°It¡¯s nice to hear from you too, Lana. I¡¯m just looking out for you,¡± he said.

    ¡°Can you look out for me at a more reasonable hour? Why are you even up right now?¡±

    ¡°Because I have good news.¡±

    ¡®Good news,¡¯ he said, I was skeptical that good news needed to be delivered at the crack of dawn.

    ¡°Because you¡¯re a busy body.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s rich coming from you.¡±

    ¡°Our dad was a detective, and our mom made us live and breathe academics, neither of us know what it means to take it easy. I still get nightmares about schoolwork.¡±

    ¡°Point taken.¡±

    I couldn¡¯t keep my eyes open, and I wanted him to get to the point so I could go back to sleep. My pillow was calling me.

    ¡°Okay, as much as I¡¯m enjoying this friendly moment of familial bonding, can you just spit it out already?¡±

    ¡°I called in a favor.¡±

    ¡°A favor?¡± I muttered. ¡°Why am I getting a bad feeling about this?¡±

    ¡°Because you¡¯re going to hate it, but it¡¯ll be good for you.¡±

    ¡°I swear to God, you better not be pulling that big brother crap on me. Ethan, we¡¯re only four years apart.¡±

    ¡°Four and a half years actually,¡± he corrected. ¡°But, hey, who¡¯s counting? Gabe will explain it to you when you come in.¡±

    I heard the line go dead. I faintly had a flashback of the time he signed Noah and I up for an all-day hiking tour. It was supposed to be a surprise and neither of us were prepared for the trek. About halfway through, Noah had protested saying if we didn¡¯t turn around right now, we¡¯d have to carry him back down ourselves. In the end, Ethan had reluctantly relented. As much as he loved looking out for us, he was occasionally ill-sighted.

    I would have happily called in sick, but I knew I had obligations, and I wasn¡¯t about to let my partner down; whatever I didn¡¯t do, Gabe would be stuck doing on his own. I got ready, threw on my coat, and headed out the door. Predictably, Gabe was already there waiting for me when I showed up. He spun his chair towards me and grinned.

    ¡°I¡¯ve got some good news for you.¡±

    ¡°I hate to break it to you, Gabe, but Ethan already informed me that I would hate it.¡±

    ¡°Oh, come on. It¡¯s not going to be that bad.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡±

    ¡°Really.¡± He leaned back in his office chair and put his arms behind his head. I¡¯m not sure he could have looked more self-satisfied if he tried. ¡°Relax, you¡¯re going to love it.¡±

    ¡°Why are you two ganging up on me?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re keeping you on your toes. You gotta stay sharp, practice those thinking muscles.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m going to have an aneurysm if you two keep this up.¡±

    Gabe laughed. ¡°Alright, take it easy. He figured out why that restaurant stuck out to you.¡± He paused, waiting expectantly.

    ¡°And?¡±

    ¡°What was the name of that girl you used to hang out with in Highschool again? Lisa?¡±

    I groaned. ¡°It was Lily, Lily Yang.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the one. Turns out her family owns the place. It¡¯s some Chinese diner downtown. Real cozy, maybe a little rundown, but it¡¯s got a lot of love in it.¡±

    ¡°Give me a break, Gabe, I can¡¯t believe Ethan put you up to this,¡± I paused. ¡°Did Lieutenant Blackwood approve this excursion yet?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, she did, Ethan convinced her real good, said we would be following up on an important lead.¡±

    ¡°An important lead.¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    ¡°At a Chinese restaurant,¡± I paused. ¡°For lunch.¡±

    ¡°Come on, live a little. I already promised I would take you. Besides, you can¡¯t just back out. This is my chance to get paid to eat on the clock and you know we could both use the down time.¡±

    ¡°If you insist¡­¡± I muttered. ¡°Come on, let¡¯s go before I change my mind.¡±

    Gabe was out the door before I was. The man loves to eat. I couldn¡¯t blame him. Someone his size practically inhaled a plate before it hit the table. Coincidentally, he considered himself a bit of a connoisseur of instant noodles and cheap take out. We had hit every spot within five miles of the precinct, and I was sure he was excited to expand his horizons. I told him once that if he ever needed a side hustle, he could pick up being a food critic, he liked the sound of that.

    Lily¡¯s restaurant was downtown. It wasn¡¯t officially considered China Town, but everyone called it that. Really, it was just a small cluster of shops and restaurants, nothing particularly noteworthy. However, it was a hot bed for all the Chinese goods and services you could possibly want. Whether you were looking for a grocer, herbal medicine, tea, trinkets, clothing, jewelry, or good food, this was the place to be.

    Yang¡¯s Diner was nestled in a cozy little corner, towards the back of a dead-end street. It was a real hole in the wall place, the sort of place that got around from word of mouth instead of the flashy neon signs along the streets. Deliveries and takeout orders from here were popular, but few people ever bothered to sit down and eat in such a cramped space.

    A metallic ¡°Ni hao¡± rang out from the door chime as it creaked open, hello in Chinese. The sound of shuffling boxes was interrupted by a woman calling out from behind the counter. A sleek black ponytail peaked out from over the top of the register.

    ¡°Hello! Welcome! Sit wherever you want!¡± she cried out.

    It didn¡¯t take long for me to recognize her as my old friend. I hadn¡¯t seen Lily since the end of high school, but she hadn¡¯t changed at all. She still wore her hair up and moved with a jittery yet carefree bounce in her step. How she kept up that level of energy all day was still a mystery to me.

    The minute she noticed me, she brightened up. Wiping off her hands on her apron, she jogged over to us.

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    ¡°No way, Lana. Lana? Is that you?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Hey, Lily,¡± I replied. ¡°You haven¡¯t changed a bit.¡±

    ¡°Oh, come on. It¡¯s been over a decade. Everybody is a little bit different now.¡±

    Lily and I went way back; we met when we were still little girls in grade school. Being the only two mixed race girls of both Asian and Caucasian decent, we became fast friends. We were always a bit too White for the Asian kids and a bit too Asian for the White kids, lucky us. The only upside was that it gave us something to bond over.

    That was a long time ago; we used to do everything together when all we did was play, there was no reason to question if we were the same then. It wasn¡¯t until we hit adolescence that the cracks started to show.

    I was busy preparing for college and Lily was just having the time of her life. Unlike my family, Lily¡¯s family was happy to have her take over the family restaurant someday. My parents had wanted more for us; they expected excellence. After our high school graduation, we tearfully hugged each other and promised to keep in touch, but neither of us did.

    I ended up moving away for college, and she stayed behind. We no longer moved around in the same circles and those carefree days soon vanished into distant memories of simpler times. At first, I had pitied her, that she didn¡¯t have ambition, but age had given me perspective. These days, I envied her a bit, she wasn¡¯t thrown to the wolves the way I was.

    ¡°And how is everything?¡± she asked, eagerly. With her hands full of menus and a tablet, she gestured to Gabe with her head. ¡°And who¡¯s your friend?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m good.¡± I said. ¡°I became a detective, just like my dad.¡±

    I gestured to Gabe.

    ¡°And this is my partner Detective Gabriel Grant, but you can call him Gabe.¡±

    ¡°Hey,¡± he nodded. ¡°It¡¯s nice to meet you.¡±

    ¡°Wow, you really did it, Lana! Congrats!¡± she gasped, putting her hand to her mouth. ¡°Or should I call you Detective¡­¡± She paused, glancing at my left hand.

    ¡°Detective Walker,¡± I finished for her. ¡°I¡¯m not married.¡±

    ¡°Oh, of course! And it¡¯s so nice to meet you Gabe. I¡¯m so sorry. I¡¯m all over the place today,¡± she apologized. Raising up her left hand, she showed off the unmistakable gold band on her ring finger. ¡°I got married a few years ago.¡±

    ¡°Hey, no hard feelings,¡± Gabe breezed. ¡°And congrats,¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Really! I have two kids now. Do you want to meet them?¡± She made a move to call them over from the barstools they were sitting on, but I stopped her. Her kids, halfway through getting up, seemed relieved to be off the hook and quickly got back to playing their games.

    ¡°That¡¯s alright, Lily. We¡¯re here on business.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sorry, are you still on the clock?¡±

    ¡°Something like that,¡± I replied.

    Gabe clapped me on the shoulder.

    ¡°Hey, come on, loosen up a bit. We¡¯ve got time to spare.¡±

    ¡°Sure,¡± I said, but I was less eager about it than he was.

    She sat us down in a little well-worn booth down by the corner, less likely to be overheard by the patrons walking through the door, how thoughtful. Lily was always like that, conscientious. I was less so. There were days that my mother would moodily raise her hand to her cheek and sigh. ¡®Why can¡¯t you be like your friend, Lily?¡¯ she¡¯d ask. I always wanted to snap back with, ¡®Because her mom doesn¡¯t treat her like she¡¯s broken,¡¯ but I never did; I didn¡¯t have the guts.

    Lily handed us a pair of red bordered menus filled with names of dishes I could neither read nor pronounce. This was one of the more authentic Chinese restaurants in the city, the kind of place people went to when they were sick of westernized things like orange chicken. My mother was Vietnamese, but we used to go to little places like this as a family, places that sold real Asian food.

    After my mother died, places like this made me feel uncomfortable. It felt like I was homesick for somewhere that no longer existed. It didn¡¯t help either that the servers at these restaurants often looked at me curiously as a woman eating alone. Eventually, I retreated to more ubiquitous places where I blended in with the crowd. I gave her my order and handed the menu back to her. Gabe raised an eyebrow at me.

    ¡°What, are your pants on fire or something? Take your time.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Gabe. I¡¯m not a food critic. My palette just isn¡¯t as refined as yours,¡± I quipped.

    He let out a snicker and shook his head at me.

    ¡°Someday I¡¯m going to get you to enjoy the finer things in life.¡±

    ¡°Like orange chicken?¡± I asked, thick with sarcasm.

    ¡°No, something even more adventurous. Maybe beef and broccoli.¡± He grinned mischievously.

    ¡°Are you going to introduce me to fortune cookies next?¡± I asked. It was a classic, one of our little inside jokes.

    Lily laughed easily off to the side.

    ¡°You two seem close.¡±

    She took our orders and the menus as we handed them back to her.

    ¡°It¡¯ll be right out,¡± she said and hurried away.

    I couldn¡¯t help but picture her gossiping to her family in the kitchen about who just walked in the door. I silently prayed they wouldn¡¯t make a fuss out of it and breathed a sigh of relief when she headed back out alone with our food on a tray. The last thing I needed was a crowd.

    ¡°Careful, it¡¯s hot,¡± she warned, setting our food in front of us.

    ¡°There¡¯s actually something I wanted to ask you,¡± I said.

    ¡°Sure, shoot. I¡¯ll let you know if I can.¡±

    ¡°Does the name, Nathan Ming, mean anything to you?¡±

    ¡°You know what? That name does sound familiar.¡± She tapped her pen on the table as she thought. ¡°Oh, of course! How did I forget? Nathan used to be a big regular here. He came every Saturday, ate by himself, and didn¡¯t talk much. I always thought he looked a little lonely. He hasn¡¯t been by a few weeks though; did something happen to him?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry; I know this isn¡¯t what you wanted to hear, but¡­¡± There really was no nice way to say it. ¡°He¡¯s dead.¡±

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t¡­ It wasn¡¯t suicide, was it?¡± She squeezed her hands together.

    ¡°No, we suspect it wasn¡¯t. We are currently investigating it as a homicide case. Can you tell us anything else about him?¡±

    ¡°Well, the Chinese shopping district here is not very big. People that come here often also come to the other stores around the plaza on the west side. My cousin has a shop there. He said Nathan seemed familiar with a lady who holds up signs and yells crazy stuff into a loudspeaker. He saw them together sometimes,¡± she said. ¡°That lady was always scaring away customers, so my cousin always shoos her away, but it never works for long. She always comes back eventually.¡±

    ¡°Do you know her name?¡±

    ¡°Sorry, I don¡¯t, but I can tell you how to find her. She always shows up there in the mornings.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, we¡¯ll look into it.¡±

    Just then a new customer came through the door, and she headed off towards them which suited me just fine. We had gotten what we needed here. After we finished our food, I motioned to Gabe that it was time to leave, and we hit the road.

    ¡°You¡¯re being quiet,¡± Gabe said. ¡°Something eating you?¡±

    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s nothing, don¡¯t worry about it. It¡¯s just that we were¡­¡± I trailed off.

    ¡°Yeah?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know how to say it,¡± I grumbled.

    ¡°What do I look like? Your English teacher? Just spit it out.¡±

    ¡°We had, we had this thing,¡± I sighed, pressing my head into my hand with my arm propped up on the side door. ¡°It was so stupid. We¡¯d make this ¡°L¡± shape with our pointer finger and our thumb and yell out ¡°L is for¡± followed by our names. Whoever said it faster won.¡±

    ¡°A play on that ¡°L¡± is for loser thing? Man, now that is a throwback. That¡¯s been out of style for, what? A hundred years?¡±

    ¡°Something like that. Once something gets old enough it becomes retro chic.¡±

    ¡°Yeah?¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± I said, sighing. ¡°God, I¡¯m terrible with things like this.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t sweat it,¡± he said. ¡°I know what you¡¯re saying, you two were real close, right?¡±

    He turned the wheel, heading onto the freeway. Our cruiser¡¯s auto navigator clicked on, and he leaned back, resting his arms by his sides.

    ¡°Yeah, something like that and now we have nothing in common,¡± I said.

    ¡°Hey, don¡¯t say that,¡± he said. ¡°You never know, she might surprise you.¡±

    ¡°Sure,¡± I said. ¡°She might.¡± I paused. ¡°And tell Ethan thanks for trying.¡±

    ¡°Why don¡¯t you tell him yourself?¡±

    ¡°You know why,¡± I scowled.

    He laughed. ¡°You could do it anyway. New year, new you or something like that.¡±

    ¡°Or something like that,¡± I echoed back, skeptical. ¡°Fine, I¡¯ll give it a shot.¡±

    When we got back, the sun hadn¡¯t set yet. It didn¡¯t feel right that I had lived through what felt like a lifetime, and it wasn¡¯t even a quarter past six. There was a note on my desk from Ethan. ¡°Call me,¡± it said. Paper was pretty old-school these days, but Ethan always insisted on things like that. He said it gave it a bit of a personal touch; it reminded you that someone was on the other side. I had to give it to him; he did have a point.

    Reluctantly, I tapped on the side of my head and activated my Iris. My call barely rang twice before he picked up, as timely as ever.

    ¡°How¡¯d it go?¡± he asked.

    ¡°About as well as you¡¯d expect.¡±

    ¡°And that is?¡±

    ¡°It was¡­¡± I paused. ¡°Adequate. Thanks for trying, Ethan.¡±

    ¡°Hey, that¡¯s what family is for. We never stop trying.¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± I muttered back.

    ¡°See?¡± Gabe interjected. ¡°That wasn¡¯t that bad.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to hear it, Gabe,¡± I sighed. ¡°Let¡¯s get back to work.¡±

    ¡°Sure,¡± Gabe said, then addressing Ethan, he continued. ¡°We need an ID on some mystery woman; she might be connected to our case. A real nutcase loudspeaker type often seen in the downtown area around the Chinese shopping district. Lily said her cousin often spotted our dead guy chatting her up, shows up in the mornings and gets chased off by angry shop keepers by the end of the day.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not a lot to go on, but I¡¯ll see what I can do.¡± Ethan replied.

    ¡°Thanks Ethan, I knew we could count on you,¡± I said.

    ¡°Always,¡± he replied and ended the call.

    The rest of the day was spent pouring over other data Ethan sent over. Our hard drives were practically overflowing with information; it was a nightmare. Body modifications were, unfortunately, all the rage now and had been trending upwards for quite a few years already.

    On the down and dirty, some people were getting enhancements hoping to win in underground fight clubs, beat the competition in organized crime, or keep up in an increasingly competitive red-light district. On the other side, some people were getting modifications to be competitive in the job market or in the dating scene. However, considering the abnormal modifications our victim had, we were expecting something a bit more exotic.

    What caught my eye were rumblings in the cybersphere¡¯s obscure religious groups. Supposedly, some people were getting modifications to become more than human, they wanted to become gods. That was more our beat. This case was weird and freaky. Normal, run of the mill crime wasn¡¯t going to cut it. If you hear hoofbeats, sometimes it really is a zebra, not a horse.

 Chapter 5 - Arc I: Not All That Glitters is Gold

    Something about the way days felt had gotten me in the habit of counting them. I was carefully marking them off on my virtual calendar, writing numbers inside big red circles. Now, there were three days marked that way, three days since the funeral. You could say that I felt inverted or turned inside out. I hadn¡¯t taken any time off at all, but I was walking on once again on new and unsteady legs, like I was out of practice.

    It reminded me of when I was small, and I would steal my father¡¯s work shoes so I could play pretend. Death and loss do strange things to you. They make the old new again. They make long healed scars into freshly open wounds. My waking life now felt strange and intangible in a way I couldn¡¯t define.

    Shortly after I arrived at the precinct, my phone rang, the metallic ring tone signaling a work call. Call me old-fashioned, but I always liked the sound rotary phones made. Maybe I longed for simpler times. People have always longed for times and places that were long past, no longer existed, or perhaps never did; I wouldn¡¯t be the first.

    ¡°I¡¯ve got something for you; you¡¯re going to like it,¡± he said. It was Ethan, my older brother. He was the first to follow in our father¡¯s footsteps into the field of criminal investigations. Being the younger sibling, I had to wait my turn; it was a bitter pill to swallow.

    ¡°Well, then don¡¯t keep me waiting,¡± I said.

    ¡°Lana, you are as impatient as ever.¡±

    ¡°What can I say?¡± I replied. ¡°It runs in the family.¡±

    Ethan and I were both prone to overworking, pacing, and tapping. On particularly bad days, when we still lived together, you could hear both of us from across the house. Noah, the least neurotic of the three of us, would occasionally groan about it. He said just watching us made him anxious. The worst, according to him, was when we did it in the dark and he could have sworn the house was haunted.

    ¡°So, it does,¡± he agreed.

    Then he paused to add Gabe to our call.

    ¡°I¡¯ve got a lead for you,¡± Ethan continued. ¡°I ID¡¯ed your mystery woman.¡±

    ¡°I do like that,¡± I confirmed, Gabe chuckled in agreement.

    Bingo. Working cases like these were like following threads. In some parts of Asia, they believe in red threads of fate. Often those threads are said to connect lovers, but it could connect anyone fated to meet. I liked to think fate worked on our side as well. That was our job, we were the ones that interpreted the strings.

    ¡°Of course you do,¡± he said. ¡°Your mystery woman¡¯s name is Willow Lee. Age twenty-six, the same age as the victim. She has a history of misdemeanors for public ether intoxication, and disorderly conflicts mostly due to loitering and confrontations with angry shopkeepers. Small scale stuff. It seems like she often shows up in plazas and squares around the downtown area and that does include the cluster of Asian shops and restaurants in unofficial Chinatown.¡±

    ¡°So, how do we find this lady?¡± Gabe asked.

    ¡°I¡¯ve gotten the metro police department to agree to ping us next time she shows up.¡±

    The call ended not long before the metro notified us that she was spotted in the main square. One of the shopkeepers had called in a complaint again. Normally, low priority calls like this were ignored barring grievous injury, but this time was an exception since we had a vested interest in meeting her in the flesh.

    Some people ran on sight on cops, but knowing her type, we wouldn¡¯t have to worry about that. Loudspeaker types often had to be dragged out kicking and screaming; self-importance and self-righteousness came hand in hand.

    When we arrived in the bustling business plaza, she was still there, standing front and center. She was standing on a small wooden, makeshift podium. Her hazy eyes stared out into the crowd, searching but aimless. Long, dark brown hair fell to her waist, and unmistakably metallic limbs gleamed from underneath the edges of her clothing. Hyper-realistic artificial skin had been commonplace for decades; therefore, the decision to show off her chrome was by choice, not necessity.

    Walking up to her, we flashed our badges.

    ¡°We¡¯re with the VCPD, the special crimes unit,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m Detective Walker and my partner here is Detective Grant.¡± He nodded at her.

    ¡°Ma''am, are you Willow Lee?¡± he asked.

    She stared at us for a second, clearly confused. Her unfocused eyes finally cleared and in a moment of lucidity she answered.

    ¡°I go by Willow Starlight, Starlight for short,¡± she said. ¡°Lee is my dead name.¡±

    ¡°I see,¡± I said. ¡°Would you be willing to answer a few questions for us, Miss Lee?¡±

    This time, she was a bit faster to respond. Despite her reflexes being clearly dulled by whatever she had taken, she did not seem wholly incoherent. That was good news for us. She was no good to us if she was too inebriated to speak.

    ¡°It¡¯s Starlight,¡± she corrected, this time annoyed.

    ¡°Don¡¯t mind my partner here, Miss Starlight,¡± Gabe said without missing a beat. ¡°She just misspoke a bit, no harm, no foul, right? Now, we have a few questions for you. Mind answering them for us?¡±

    ¡°Is there a problem with my being here?¡± she asked, squinting. ¡°We haven¡¯t done anything wrong. We have the right to free speech.¡±

    Free speech. I believed in it too, anyone worth anything did. Unfortunately, in my line of work, it often was a headache waiting to happen whenever I came across someone who parroted it to me.

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    ¡°And who is ¡°we¡± exactly?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Our group, we are called the Neo-Luminaries,¡± she said. ¡°We help people become better, more.¡±

    ¡°And how do you do that?¡± I asked.

    ¡°We teach people how to transcend the confines of flesh. Flesh was meant to be with metal and organic with chrome. Those who follow us become better versions of themselves,¡± she said, smiling and looking quite self-satisfied.

    I glanced at her arms. From a distance, I had already noted them, but on closer inspection, the resemblance was uncanny. I wouldn¡¯t have been surprised if the make and model were identical to the ones we found with Nathan Ming, our victim. They were unusual in more ways than one. The first of which was that they were built for power. There was no reason for a civilian to be walking around with things like that.

    ¡°Well, that explains your shiny new arms alright,¡± Gabe interjected, tilting his head towards her metallic limbs. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t want to cover up all that chrome with a cheap imitation of the real thing, would we?¡±

    ¡°No, we would not,¡± she said. ¡°We in the Neo-Luminaries are proud of our modified bodies. We are not ashamed to be both. To be both is to become closer to perfection.¡±

    ¡°I see,¡± I said. ¡°That¡¯s interesting. We believe you may know someone that shared that same view. Does the name, Nathan Ming, ring any bells?¡±

    ¡°Nathan Ming?¡± she asked. Her lip quivered, and for a moment I thought I saw fear. ¡°We were friends. Did something happen to him?¡±

    Bingo. I must have hit the mark again. These two were related, after all. In my mind¡¯s eye, I could see all the threads stretching out together, and this was yet another thread to follow. Of course, if I were honest, I¡¯d admit that I didn¡¯t really believe in fate. It was just a nice idea, like karma or heaven. It made you feel safe. Better.

    ¡°So, you are familiar with him then?¡±

    ¡°Yes, we used to practice together,¡± she said, nodding. ¡°He was a wonderful member of the Neo-Luminaries. We have suffered a great loss to be without him.¡± She bowed her head slightly and clasped her hands together in front of her in prayer. It was a grand show of mourning, but it seemed inauthentic. If I didn¡¯t know better, I would have said that it was rehearsed.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry to tell you this, Miss Starlight, but your friend, Nathan Ming, has passed away. We have been investigating this case as a murder since last Friday, when he was found unresponsive in his home. Can you tell us the last time you saw him?¡±

    ¡°I don''t know what to say,¡± she said. ¡°I don''t think I can help. The last time I saw him was a month ago. That was the last time he came to worship with us.¡±

    ¡°Can you tell us where you were on the night of Mr. Ming¡¯s death?¡± I asked.

    Pausing to think, she retreated inside her head. Slowly, she swayed on her feet. Back and forth. Back and forth. Perhaps it was an act of self-soothing, like a child on a rocking horse. I wondered where her head was; it was like she was in her own little world. If I were to blame anything for it, I would have blamed Ether.

    ¡°I was at a karaoke bar with my sisters,¡± she said, nodding.

    ¡°Can they confirm your whereabouts that night?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Yes, of course,¡± she said. ¡°We were at the Three Skies Karaoke bar. The three of us made a reservation there a week ago for Friday night. It shouldn¡¯t be any trouble for you at all.¡±

    Another sign. She was prepared and answered rather specifically. We had just informed her that her friend had just died, and she seemed about as disturbed as if we had told her that we had just burned her toast. The only signs of distress she exhibited seemed to be related to being questioned, not the reality of his death. I felt no true sense of longing or loss, just anxiety.

    ¡°Can you think of anyone that might have had a grudge against him?¡± I continued.

    She averted her gaze. ¡°No, none that I can think of. Nathan was a gentle soul, and he was a model Luminary.¡±

    Having finished our line of questioning with Willow Lee, we left her to her own devices. We stayed for a minute and watched her from a distance. She swayed on her feet a bit more, sucking on her lips, before she held her loudspeaker back to her lips and picked up where she left off. As we made our way out of the square, a shopkeeper scowled at us from a window, clearly dissatisfied that we had not sent Willow packing.

    ¡°Not our job, buddy. Call metro if you have a problem with her,¡± Gabe bellowed.

    The shopkeeper defeated, scowled, and retreated inside his shop. Then, Gabe turned back to me, his expression expectant. I already knew what he was thinking.

    ¡°She¡¯s suspicious, but let¡¯s find out more before we start pointing fingers,¡± I said.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± he agreed. ¡°I¡¯ve got a feeling about this one. Let¡¯s follow this lead, might take us straight to the killer.¡±

    ¡°Did you see her eyes?¡± I asked. ¡°It was like no one was home.¡±

    ¡°Could¡¯ve been ether,¡± he said. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t surprise me. This city is crawling with Ether junkies.¡±

    Although Ether wasn¡¯t officially legalized until recently, no one has bothered enforcing its prohibition in decades. Even before the bill was passed, Ether bars openly lined main streets and dotted the corners of the downtown districts. Whether for better or worse, the proliferation of Ether wasn¡¯t our problem.

    ¡°We should look into her group,¡± he said. ¡°What did she call it?¡±

    ¡°The Neo-Luminaries,¡± I said. ¡°It can¡¯t be a coincidence. Our victim had quite a few modifications and the way they were arranged postmortem indicated more than just a healthy interest in knolling.¡±

    ¡°No kidding,¡± Gabe said. ¡°Whoever killed our guy was some sick bastard laying it all out like that.¡±

    Few VCPD personal bothered to take proper documentation, but I was a stickler about that sort of thing. Today, it paid off because the video I took of her included that fancy little sign by her feet. There was a QR code on her sign and I had a hunch about where it went. Opening it confirmed my suspicions, it was a server.

    ¡°There¡¯s an address listed on their server,¡± I said. ¡°Let¡¯s start there.¡±

    ¡°Good thinking,¡± he said, inputting the address into our navigator. ¡°We might as well check it out; we¡¯re practically on top of it already.¡±

    A few minutes and an underpass later, we arrived at a small, nondescript building. The lack of pomp and flare was enough to raise our eyebrows. Willow¡¯s description of their philosophy was enough to lead us to expect all metal and hard edges, the architectural equivalent of a tesseract square. Instead, the building in front of us looked more like an abandoned shop front.

    Perhaps it had been an ether bar at some point. There were telltale signs, like the faint hint of connection ports and floating chambers visible from the tinted windows. Both of which were signatures of the sensory-elevating drug Ether.

    Ether rocked the scene when it came onto the market, as a hybrid indulgence, a combination of both digital and chemical pleasure, it didn¡¯t wreck your body the way traditional hard drugs did. In short, you suffered less for the same high.

    A connection to a neurochip implant as well as a physical floating chamber created the sensation of transcendence. When administered correctly, users could be in a haze for days, if not weeks, on end, happily swaying back and forth and sucking on their lips, hazy-eyed and far away. However, most just stuck to the discount version, which required nothing other than a neurochip download and an electronic inhaler.

    Peering through the glass on the door, there was no sign of anyone there. However, when I turned to look away, I could had sworn that I caught a pair of eyes looking back at us. I did a double take. There was nothing there when I looked again. If anyone was here right now, they didn¡¯t want to talk.

    ¡°Let it go, Lana,¡± Gabe said. ¡°We don¡¯t have a warrant; they don¡¯t have to let us in.¡±

    ¡°I hate to admit it, Gabe, but you¡¯re right. For now, let¡¯s head back to the precinct,¡± I said. ¡°We should at least let Ethan know what we found.¡±

 Chapter 6 - Arc I: Not All That Glitters is Gold

    We clued Ethan in during the ride back to the precinct. Willow Lee, who was now going by Willow Starlight, had informed us that Nathan Ming was a fellow practitioner of the Neo-Luminaries until just a month ago. The group¡¯s faith involved a philosophy of revering augmentations, considering those with extensive body modifications as closest to perfection.

    Ethan already had something for us before we set foot in the precinct. Being a natural overachiever, he always worked fast. When I was a kid, I hated that about him; sibling rivalries, after all, are often bitter.

    ¡°About time,¡± he said. ¡°I thought I was going to go grey before you made it back.¡±

    Ethan was leaning against my desk, cleaning his glasses. I could feel his energy radiating off him from across the room.

    ¡°You look excited Ethan,¡± I observed. ¡°Did you find something good?¡±

    ¡°Oh, did I,¡± he said, grinning. ¡°You¡¯re going to want to see this.¡±

    After putting his glasses back on, he pulled out a small metallic disc from his pocket. I recognized it as one of the newer portable models. He pressed the indentation in the side with his thumb; instantly, it spat out a 3D image from its core. The hologram floated and spun in the air, displaying a short clip set to repeat on loop.

    ¡°Did you just come here to flex on us?¡± I asked.

    ¡°No,¡± he said. ¡°But I do enjoy that. We get better toys than you guys do over here.¡±

    ¡°Please, not this again,¡± I groaned.

    ¡°Let the man cook,¡± Gabe laughed.

    ¡°Thank you, Gabe. At least one of you appreciates me,¡± Ethan said. ¡°I didn¡¯t want to have to show you this on that piece of junk your boss keeps around. The lag. The resolution. And don¡¯t get me started on the compression¨C¡±

    ¡°Are you going to show us, or what?¡± I interrupted.

    ¡°Always so impatient,¡± Ethan scowled. ¡°Fine, have it your way.¡±

    The loop broke, and the rotating figures began to move. Angelic figures made of light danced across the screen. In what appeared to be a trust fall, they fell backwards until they floated weightlessly, arms and legs extended. Then an array of wires snaked their way up to the base of the figures¡¯ necks. The figures faded away now, and a line of text replaced them. The phrase ¡°The Next Level Awaits You¡± spun out and rotated around the outer perimeter.

    ¡°What is this?¡± I asked.

    ¡°It¡¯s an ad for the Neo-Luminaries. Willow¡¯s soap boxing isn¡¯t the only way they recruit; they recruit both in person and in the digital space. I¡¯ve never seen anything like it.¡±

    He shifted the menu to the members tab. There were a few names listed next to portraits of hazy smiling faces. Zenith, with a gleam behind his eyes, was listed at the top. Two other men, one Hispanic and one Caucasian, with similar monikers were listed beneath him. And at the very bottom, our mystery woman, the sole female member, was unsurprisingly listed as only ¡°Starlight.¡± Afterall, she had said that ¡°Lee¡± was her dead name.

    ¡°Take a look at their limbs, even just from these snapshots we can tell that they¡¯ve all had their arms replaced. That¡¯s four in a row, five if you count our victim,¡± he said. ¡°Do you think that¡¯s just a coincidence?¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t imagine it is,¡± I said.

    ¡°No way that many people with heavy body mods just bump into each other,¡± Gabe agreed. ¡°Especially the girl. What the hell does a girl like that need those arms for?¡±

    Reaching out, I touched the image and attempted to scroll down further. The device buzzed and bounced me back to the top of the tab. After a second attempt, I realized it wasn¡¯t just a fluke.

    ¡°That¡¯s quite a short list,¡± I observed. ¡°Is that really all their members?¡±

    ¡°Hard to say,¡± Ethan said. ¡°But it¡¯s certainly possible. I wouldn¡¯t rule out more members just yet; some fringe groups can get quite dedicated even with only a handful of members.¡±

    ¡°Their group sounds like trouble,¡± I concluded.

    ¡°Yeah, and we¡¯re going to find out just how much trouble they are,¡± he said. ¡°There might be quite a lot that we don¡¯t know about them yet.¡± He scowled, flicking through lines of code. ¡°I should be able to crack through their firewall, but it¡¯ll take some time. Whoever they got to install their security knew what they¡¯re doing, with run of the mill encryption I would have broken through by noon.¡±

    Ethan was going to have a field day trying out all the different angles he could attack their security. There was no question that he could do it; he was one of the best in his field. The question was how long it would take. We couldn¡¯t sit around to wait for him, there was work to get done.

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    ¡°Sounds like we should leave you to it then,¡± I said. ¡°Gabe and I can check that woman¡¯s alibi.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll send you her sisters¡¯ whereabouts now,¡± Ethan said.

    ¡°Skip that,¡± I said. ¡°Give us the address of the Blue Skies Karaoke Bar instead. I know that place. When I was in college, all the Asian kids went there. I guess it must still be trendy. The place is reservation only; if she was there, we¡¯ll have hard evidence.¡±

    ¡°Not bad,¡± Gabe said. ¡°It¡¯ll save us some time.¡±

    Our Irises pinged with the address, and we hit the road. Our cruiser was speeding downtown yet again, and it made me feel some sort of way. I hadn¡¯t spent this much time in Chinatown since my mother died. In fact, I had only been to this karaoke bar once before.

    Back in college, the Asian Student Organization was hosting a night out. I figured I might as well give it a go. It was ill thought out; I caught on how poorly I fit in when I towered over the entire group and intimidated the other girls. I don¡¯t think they knew what to do with me. To their credit, neither did my mother.

    Pulling up to the Karaoke Bar, it still looked more or less the way I remembered it. The difference was only a fresh coat of paint and new signs of heavy wear. The door creaked when we opened it and a stout, balding man came rushing up to us. He must have had a sixth sense for law enforcement officers.

    ¡°Welcome, welcome,¡± he said. ¡°Officers, we don¡¯t want any trouble.¡±

    ¡°Good,¡± I said. ¡°We don¡¯t have any trouble to give. I¡¯m Detective Walker and this is my partner Detective Grant. We¡¯re looking for somebody that hung out here last Friday night. Think you can help us out?¡±

    The man pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at his brows. His button up shirt was growing damp at the pits. This man was not fond of us, perhaps his other interactions with law enforcement had been far less amicable.

    ¡°Oh yes!¡± he yelped and made a bee line for the back. We followed him down the way, eyes followed us as we walked. It was nothing new, but it was none the less unpleasant.

    Patting his pockets, he retrieved a small key and turned the handle. The door revealed a security room. Small televisions were secured to the wall in rows. After all, there was no reason to splash out for the fancy stuff for something like this. Tapping vigorously into a control panel he pulled up the files for last Friday night.

    ¡°Who are you looking for?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Willow Lee and her two sisters,¡± I replied. ¡°We believe they made a reservation here that night.¡±

    He muttered to himself furiously under his breath, scrolling through a list, until he found her name in the registry.

    ¡°Yes,¡± he said. ¡°I have your Willow Lee.¡±

    ¡°Show us,¡± I commanded.

    The video was grainy. Surveillance footage was never the good stuff. Despite this, I caught Willow¡¯s unmistakable metal arms, long flowing hair, and the flower crown atop her head. Two women with similar builds, absent modifications and matching crowns, were singing by her side. Her sisters I took it.

    ¡°Can you give us a copy¡­¡± I paused, realizing I hadn¡¯t asked him for his name.

    ¡°Mr. Li,¡± he said.

    ¡°Can you give us a copy, Mr. Li,¡± I replied.

    He nodded and a few minutes later we were the proud owners of a copy of their night out. We had made quick work of it, in and out the door in under an hour. Our cruiser was there waiting for us. Unfortunately, so was rush hour traffic. I tapped my fingers impatiently on the dash.

    ¡°Let¡¯s get this over to Ethan so he can confirm it for us,¡± I said.

    Ethan¡¯s voice interrupted me.

    ¡°Gabe already beat you to it. I¡¯ve already ready received and looked it over while you two were taking the scenic route.¡±

    ¡°I hate to break it to you, Ethan, but there is nothing scenic about smog and traffic.

    He pretended he didn¡¯t hear me.

    ¡°The woman¡¯s alibi checks out,¡± he said. ¡°Willow Lee was there with her sisters all night.¡±

    I could have protested, but it wasn¡¯t worth the effort.

    ¡°What do you have for us?¡± I asked.

    ¡°More than I can show you right now,¡± he said. ¡°Let¡¯s start with this clip. It won¡¯t be the same experience through your Iris, but beggars can¡¯t be choosers.¡±

    It was a recording of what appeared to be a sermon. A seemingly young man was standing in front of a podium, addressing the audience. The limitations of our Irises kept us from making out his features.

    However, from what we could tell, he was a disproportionately tall man with arms and legs far too long for his main torso. He looked like stretched taffy, topped with a head of shoulder length brown hair, and dressed in loose off-white robes and a long brown vest.

    ¡°This guy goes by ¡°Zenith,¡± and he is the de facto leader of the group. He basically popped out of nowhere five years ago, at the same time the Neo-Luminaries did. However, I can¡¯t find any records of anyone with that name matching his description existing outside of the group ¨C no medical records, no schooling, nothing.¡±

    ¡°An alias,¡± I observed. ¡°Do you think you can find us his real identity?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s only a matter of time,¡± Ethan determined. ¡°I already found quite a bit of information on him. They¡¯ve had five years to build up their online presence and there are hundreds of videos, thousands of photos, and even more in written text. I¡¯m having my programs scrap and process it right now.¡±

    ¡°Gonna give us the good stuff, right?¡± Gabe asked. ¡°I¡¯m dying to find out more about this freak show.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I will,¡± Ethan confirmed. ¡°I¡¯m going to have a lot of fun with this one.¡±

    ***

    That night I stood on my balcony overlooking the city. The light from the city fought against the dark. Even at this hour, the city buzzed with activity. I could hear the faint sound of horns that followed the hum of traffic. Lines of cars, small as specks, always had somewhere to go.

    The city, like me, was still restless. It was nights like this that reminded me that this was the city that never slept. Each of those miniscule buildings held so many lives. Those buildings, that from my perspective were small enough to fit in the palm of my hand, practically held their own microcosm.

    Neighbors could kill each other in the privacy of their own homes without anyone noticing until the smell became so overpowering from the street that someone called it in. The combination of overwhelm and indifference of the people and the limitations of the VCPD allowed a predatory group like the Neo-Luminaries to coast under the radar for five years.

    It made me sick, but there were always bigger fish to fry and not enough manpower to go around. The Neo-Luminaries weren¡¯t worth our time until a man turned up dead. Volare City often had crimes, lightly covered at best, or even openly flaunted, that were still never addressed or investigated. If there was a god who made us in his image, would this have been what he intended for us?

 Chapter 7 - Arc I: Not All That Glitters is Gold

    Willow Starlight, the strange woman we encountered in the square, was a member of the Neo-Luminaries. It was something she shared in common with our victim, Nathan Ming. Both of them sported matching shiny arms, or, more accurately, they used to, considering the way we had found his limbs arranged around him.

    What she said about them was sparse, but it was more than enough for us to run with. This was another thread for us to follow. Red threads of fate were stretching out in front of us, and it was up to us to figure out what they could tell us.

    Ethan was working as hard as ever; his programs were scraping the server and running them through detailed algorithms around the clock. Unlike humans, machines didn¡¯t have to sleep. It was only a matter of time before he had something conclusive to show us. It wasn¡¯t like us to sit around twiddling our thumbs. While we were waiting on the analysis, we were going to go about this the old-fashioned way, by showing up in the flesh.

    The Neo-Luminaries were looking for new members; college was out, and there was plenty of fresh meat with more time than money looking for somewhere to belong. Basically, it was hunting season for them, and it was an in for us.

    There was an announcement on their server inviting curious minds to attend with them. They were going to hold an open house every Friday night for the foreseeable future, and this one was the third. The first was just three weeks prior, only a week after Nathan stopped attending. He must have left behind an opening that needed to be filled with a new, fresh body.

    ***

    This time, when we arrived, the building was lit. Light streaming out of the open doors made the place feel almost cozy. The man of the hour was standing by the front doors as we walked up, greeting newcomers. If I didn¡¯t know better, I might have said he was a nice guy.

    I felt him seize up when he saw us; perhaps Willow, or rather Starlight, had told him about our encounter the other day. Carefully, the tension melted away from him as he turned to face us. It was a practiced sense of friendliness, the type you¡¯d expect from a salesperson hoping for their next big commission.

    ¡°Detectives, what a pleasure it is to meet you,¡± he said. ¡°Starlight has told me all about you two.¡±

    ¡°Good,¡± I said. ¡°Then we can skip the introductions.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re Zenith, right?¡± Gabe said. ¡°The big man in charge?¡±

    ¡°That would be me,¡± he said. ¡°I am the leader of this humble gathering. I hope you find it to your liking.¡±

    The smile plastered on his face was the perfect empty grin; it didn¡¯t meet his eyes.

    ¡°Don¡¯t mind us,¡± Gabe said. ¡°We¡¯re just here to see what you guys are all about. You won¡¯t even notice us.¡±

    Gabe clapped him on the shoulder as we walked past. Zenith bristled at the touch. If only looks could kill.

    ¡°By all means,¡± he replied. ¡°Please, make yourself at home.¡±

    The inside of the building looked rather homely. It was furnished simply with rows of wooden pews. In the center, dividing them, was a red runner which led from the front steps to the altar. Ether chambers lined the walls off to the side. Under closer inspection, they showed clear signs of use. The handles to the doors were polished from many hands.

    We took our seats shortly before Willow walked by holding a tray of refreshments. She handed us cups of red Kool-Aid and passed out sugar cookies on small paper plates. I arched an eyebrow, shooting a passing glance at Gabe; he nodded back at me.

    There was once a cult called ¡°Heaven¡¯s Gate¡± that sent their members smiling off to the afterlife in matching track suits and sneakers with cups of poisoned Kool-Aid identical to ours. We didn¡¯t touch our cups.

    Zenith took his place at the altar and clapped his hands to catch our attention. He was satisfied once all our eyes were fixed on him. Purposefully, he struck a Buddhist standing bell. Its copper body was shaped as an inverted bowl. The chime hung in the air and was soon joined by the scent of incense burning softly on the altar.

    ¡°Friends,¡± he said. ¡°I have been waiting for you. Yes, just for you.¡±

    He paused to walk down the aisle, looking each attendant in the eyes.

    ¡°You are special,¡± he said. ¡°I have seen the truth, and the truth has called all of you to me tonight. You, who have come to learn the way ¨C the true path to enlightenment. I am blessed to be in such good company.¡±

    The first thing that caught my attention was how imprecise and intangible his words were. They were the type of feel-good nonsense you¡¯d expect from horoscopes and fortune cookies ¨C the sort of targeted messages that said just enough to feel meaningful but could be applied to anything. They were messages that appealed to those who were searching for a way to make this complex gray-hued world just a little bit simpler and easier to understand.

    ¡°I am offering you a glorious opportunity to become more ¨C to become more than you ever thought possible,¡± he continued, straightening out his arms and raising his palms towards the sky. I watched the other attendants trace the arc of his hands in wonder; they were entranced.

    The light glinted off of the center of his hands; there were holes there, bored into the palms of his hands. And there was a sense of familiarity to them because those red-rimmed indentations resembled stigmata. He was invoking the image of Jesus, who died for our sins. Did he think of himself as a martyr, or was he just riding off the coattails of a greater man?

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    His speech continued on for a while, flowery, personal, and carefully targeted. As he finished speaking his final words, he bowed to us. Many of those seated with us applauded him with tears in their eyes. It was a standing ovation.

    He walked around the pews and cupped their faces with one hand. ¡®I¡¯ve been waiting for you,¡¯ he said as he made the sign of the cross on their foreheads with the other. We hung back, waiting for a chance to speak to Zenith alone. It was when he was tidying up that we found an opening.

    ¡°Do you have a moment, Zenith?¡± I asked. ¡°We have a few questions for you.¡±

    ¡°Of course, detectives,¡± he said. ¡°I am at your disposal. Please, just give me a moment.¡±

    He proceeded to neatly fold up the red velvet cloth laid over the marble altar. Red on white, blood on flesh ¨C I¡¯m sure he enjoyed his symbolism. Faiths built on thousands of years of human soul-searching weren¡¯t a bad place to start if you wanted to prey on the lost and wary. He was their shepherd, and they were his sheep.

    The ideology that Zenith preached was composed of long-standing faiths reskinned and combined with his own personal touch. As he saw it, anybody could become transcendent with a bit of metal melded to their flesh. It was a perversion of faith and behind the altar, there was another sign of his interference. Where normally a cross would have hung, there was a golden eye shaped frame wrapping around a holographic projector shaped like an iris.

    ¡°Are you interested in our All-Seeing-Eye, Detective?¡± he asked.

    ¡°I have to admit that I am curious,¡± I replied.

    ¡°It is the Eye of Providence,¡± he said. ¡°I believe eyes are not meant only to perceive, but also to project. This relic is used only for our highest, to see it is a great honor. On nights like these where we welcome new friends, it sits idle. Guests are not permitted to see the truth until they have proven themselves worthy.¡±

    ¡°And how would they do that?¡± I asked. ¡°Did Nathan prove himself?¡±

    He narrowed his eyes but carried on easily.

    ¡°Nathan was one of our best. I hoped that he would be able to dedicate himself properly, but he lost faith during the transitionary period,¡± he said.

    ¡°Was it because he experienced rejection?¡± I asked. ¡°I¡¯m guessing he wanted to have his implants removed, is that right?¡±

    He pressed his lips into a thin line.

    ¡°Nathan was incompatible with our message. We believe that metal will choose its master. Once you are chosen, you must never stray. He chose the coward¡¯s path and ran,¡± he seethed, jaw clenched.

    Gabe and I gave each other a look. It couldn¡¯t be this easy. We had come here looking for a motive, and he had just offered one up to us on a nice, big serving platter. Most people would have lied through their teeth and sworn that there were no hard feelings, all water under the bridge, if not out of good faith, then out of self-preservation.

    ¡°Can you tell us where you were last Friday night?¡± I asked.

    ¡°If you must know, I was here,¡± he said. ¡°An idle mind is the devil''s workshop; I always broadcast our virtual sermons on Friday nights.¡±

    ¡°Do you mind if we verify that?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Be my guest,¡± he said. ¡°There is a video on our server. I¡¯m not surprised that you would not take me at my word; perhaps it is true what they say about cops, that they are all rats.¡±

    His lips twitched this time when he attempted to smile; we pretended not to notice.

    ¡°I¡¯ll get Ethan on it,¡± Gabe said, tapping his fingers to his temple.

    I nodded to him and turned back to Zenith. His gaze on me was razor-sharp.

    ¡°How many members does your group have?¡± I asked.

    ¡°There are many that frequent here, but only four have earned the right to call themselves Luminaries; that would, of course, include myself.¡±

    ¡°Not a lot of people,¡± Gabe observed.

    ¡°You came here on the behest of just one man, and you question the value of four? Even four souls worthy of enlightenment who can see the truth and reach perfection are four more than this city deserves. The people here are dull and stupid, hideous and close-minded. We at the Neo-Luminaries are forging ahead into the future, seeking the truth that the ignorant masses ignore.¡±

    His metal hand gripping the altar sent cracks snaking through it.

    ¡°Whoa, easy there buddy,¡± Gabe said. ¡°We didn¡¯t mean anything by it, just wanted to have a nice chat. Let¡¯s not get too worked up now.¡±

    Our lines rang, Ethan was calling us back.

    ¡°I got it; I found the footage he mentioned,¡± he said. ¡°It was listed as a live stream, but after a closer look behind the scenes, it was clearly prerecorded.¡±

    ¡°So, he has no alibi,¡± I said.

    ¡°You got it,¡± Ethan answered. ¡°If you wanted to bring him in, now¡¯s your chance.¡±

    Gabe pulled out his handcuffs from a pouch on his belt.

    ¡°You are going to arrest me?¡± he asked, incredulous. ¡°On what grounds?¡±

    ¡°On suspicion of the murder of Nathan Ming,¡± I said. ¡°You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to speak to an attorney, and to have an attorney present during any questioning.¡±

    I read him his rights as we escorted him to the cruiser. Surprisingly, he was cooperative and sat in the back when prompted. His stoney expression slowly transformed into a smile, I caught his expression through the reflection of the rear-view mirror. Something didn¡¯t feel right to me.

    ¡°I suppose I¡¯ll play along for now,¡± he said. ¡°It won¡¯t be long anyway; you can¡¯t keep me. I¡¯ll be a free man by the end of the day.¡±

    ¡°What makes you say that?¡± I asked.

    ¡°I¡¯ve already called a lawyer,¡± he replied. ¡°And I will say that he¡¯s rather good, one of the best actually. He¡¯s one of the best that money can buy, and you are just one of many, many cops that have no business with me.¡±

    It was a clear taunt. He was trying to rile us up, and I wasn¡¯t going to let him. I kept my face straight and stared straight ahead for the rest of the ride, but I studied him during. He was up to something, and I had a bad feeling about it.

    When we got to the station, a sharply dressed man was there waiting for us. His freshly pressed suit stood out like a sore thumb. That type of attire was reserved for people who didn¡¯t have to get their hands dirty ¨C people who weren¡¯t blue-collar workers like us. The man straightened up as we pulled in and adjusted his glasses.

    ¡°Detectives,¡± he said. ¡°I would appreciate it if you would unhand my client.¡±

    ¡°I take it you¡¯re his lawyer then?¡± I asked.

    ¡°I am,¡± he confirmed. ¡°And I¡¯m here to represent my client who has been clearly mistreated by the Volare City Police Department.¡±

    ¡°What are you talking about?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Surely, you must be aware of the law, Detective. Where should I start?¡± He tapped on his temples and read off a list visible only through his Iris. ¡°Unlawful detainment. Breaching the backend of a private server without a warrant¨C¡±

    Normally, all that red tape was more of a suggestion than a rule. The VCPD ran fast and loose with the way we got the job done. The upside was that cases could move quickly; the downside was that things could get through, tangled up in lies and corruption. We were about to tell his lawyer off, but before we got the chance, we were interrupted by the authoritative presence of Lieutenant Blackwood.

    ¡°What do you think you¡¯re doing?¡± she snapped.

    ¡°Lieutenant Blackwood, we¡¯re bringing in a suspect for the murder of Nathan Ming,¡± Gabe said.

    ¡°No,¡± she said. ¡°You aren¡¯t because you¡¯re letting him go. Now.¡±

    Gabe straightened up, blinking like it¡¯d help him hear better. Neither of us could believe it. Then, not wanting any trouble, he did as he was told and removed Zenith¡¯s handcuffs. Zenith rubbed his wrists gingerly, then shot us his best shit-eating grin as he sauntered out of the precinct, a free man.

    ¡°Lieutenant,¡± Gabe said. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡±

    ¡°This is on a need-to-know basis, and you do not need to know,¡± she shot back, staring at us over her wire frame glasses. ¡°Don¡¯t ask questions.¡±

    Then we watched as she strode away wordlessly, her heels clacking on the hard linoleum floor. I felt like the air had just been knocked out of me. In the end, he was in and out of the precinct in under an hour, just as he had predicted, and we were left scratching our heads in the dark.

 Chapter 8 - Arc I: Not All That Glitters is Gold

    It¡¯s been a few days since Lieutenant Blackwood read us the riot act and we¡¯ve been in a standstill since then. As per his lawyer¡¯s request, a warrant was properly requested to continue investigating the backend of their server. Unfortunately for us, our request was currently trapped in pending hell, the place where applications went to die.

    It was infuriating. There was no question that we had found our man. Everything about him set off blaring sirens. The least of which was that he had practically admitted it already. If we had our way, he¡¯d already be sitting behind bars awaiting trial. Zenith must have been someone with awfully special connections.

    ¡°What can we do?¡± I asked.

    We were huddled together in the break room. All three of us looked a bit worse for wear. Ethan in particular had taken it quite hard, unlike us, he normally kept his hands clean, and this was the first time he had been reprimanded so harshly. Gabe and I, on the other hand, favored efficiency over following the rules to the letter. You could say we weren¡¯t above coloring outside the lines when push came to shove.

    ¡°Hard to say,¡± he replied. ¡°I can¡¯t believe it¡¯s come to this. Now we¡¯re down a day and back where we started from.¡± He swallowed hard, rubbing his temples.

    ¡°Hey, don¡¯t take it personally,¡± Gabe said. ¡°Most of the time the higher ups would have let something like this slide. A warrant for a little thing like this would have been a no-brainer. If he was just some guy, we wouldn¡¯t have even gotten a slap on the wrist.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not wrong,¡± Ethan agreed. ¡°In the past few days, we¡¯ve built up quite a pile of evidence and it hasn¡¯t done us any good. If anything, the higher ups seem more frustrated now than before.¡±

    Pulling out the small disc from his pocket, he flicked the projector screen to the server both our departments shared. Then, mouth still full, he half-heartedly scrolled to the bottom. Lines of data were blurring past our eyes.

    ¡°What is this?¡± I asked.

    ¡°The results of my hard work,¡± he said. ¡°I matched that tooth you found using dental records yesterday. It belonged to a man named Joseph Garcia. Fortunately, he was in quite a lot of their public videos. I don¡¯t need to wait for a warrant to process those. It didn¡¯t take the software long to match them.¡±

    Then he clicked on a new tab. Photos of hair strands, neatly tagged, were side by side; one of which was the exact same shade of brown as Zenith¡¯s hair. The other strands were an assortment of shades and thicknesses. Not all of them would be related to our case, but I noticed a few black and blonde strands that could have easily belonged to the two other men in the group.

    ¡°If we could get samples from the other members, we could place them at the scene of the crime,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯d be no trouble at all to link them with some hair sample analysis. However, getting those samples would require getting our warrant approved which takes us back to our problem.¡±

    ¡°What about bringing Garcia in?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Nah,¡± Gabe said. ¡°That guy would just throw his man under the bus and get off Scot-free. Then he¡¯d start up again somewhere else. New name, new problem. If we¡¯re going to bring him in, we need to bring all of them in at the same time.¡±

    ¡°I agree,¡± Ethan said. ¡°If it comes down to it, getting at least one or two of them is better than nothing, but for now we should focus on catching the one in charge. It¡¯s just a matter of figuring out what to do next.¡±

    That was the problem with being the good guy, the one that didn¡¯t want to get his hands dirty. When everyone else was playing nasty tricks, it put you at a disadvantage. Trying to play by the rules was like fighting with your hand tied behind your back.

    ¡°Any luck on identifying our mystery man?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Not yet,¡± he said. ¡°But I¡¯m getting close. There is something I haven¡¯t tried yet.¡±

    He stuffed his mouth with another bite, lazily chewing as he entered commands into his holoscreen.

    ¡°I was originally using all of the videos, but Zenith¡¯s appearance has clearly been modified over time. The facial recognition software has been having a field day, spitting up error messages left and right,¡± he grumbled. ¡°If I go back to the first photos and images, I might be able to match it to images of him when he still had his natural face. That would be our best bet to track down his true identity.¡±

    ¡°Is there anything else the software can zero in on?¡± I asked.

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    ¡°Well,¡± Ethan said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. ¡°All of the most recent videos were filmed at their altar, but some of the earliest ones were filmed elsewhere. If we could narrow down any of those locations it could be the lead we¡¯re looking for.¡±

    Gabe had been suspiciously quiet, keeping his mouth shut and eating his fill, but I knew this slop wasn¡¯t worth that level of concentration. Suddenly, he looked up and gestured at the screen.

    ¡°I took a look at the server last night,¡± he said. ¡°Might be a long shot, but I thought I recognized my old campus in one of them.¡±

    He sent us two images. One was a still from a video featuring a young Zenith and the other was an old selfie of Gabe. He looked noticeably younger here with a mischievous grin on his face. An ether drive and inhaler were in his hands opposite his buddy holding the camera.

    ¡°I had a bit of fun with Ether back in my college days,¡± he said. ¡°Just the discount stuff; I couldn¡¯t afford the whole Ether chamber treatment. Probably better that way anyway, the hard stuff is a hell of a habit to kick.¡±

    ¡°Wait,¡± I said. ¡°You know this place, Gabe?¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± he said. ¡°There was a good place to get juiced up in the back of one of the old buildings on campus. The whole thing was boarded up and falling apart, no one went back there unless they were planning to get in a little trouble.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re saying that he might be an alumnus of Penteract University?¡± Ethan asked.

    Gabe nodded, back to his food.

    ¡°I¡¯ll run him against all the students that went there in the year the video was taken,¡± Ethan said. ¡°That might just do the trick.¡±

    After lunch, our punishment files were waiting for us. Cleaning duties were what you got when you pissed off the higher ups. We were assigned the absolute mess that passed for documentation in the last five years. The fact that we had this dumped on us in the middle of an investigation wasn¡¯t lost on us either. They were trying to slow us down.

    Rubbing my forehead, I closed my eyes, my head drooped. Suddenly, the desk was looking rather comfortable. I laid down to rest for just a moment, but before I knew it, my fatigue caught up to me.

    Figures made of light, the same ones from Neo-Luminaries¡¯ animation, were dancing in front of me. They beckoned me forwards and I followed them. Soon we were tipping over into a free fall. The chill of the ether chamber made me shiver.

    It felt like we fell for ages. I thought we might never reach the bottom, but then we did, and it was a thick and viscous fluid that softened our fall. I felt wires connect with the back of my neck and snake throughout my body, ending in my fingertips.

    My companions unraveled, their skin coming off in undulating sheets and wings sprouted from their backs as their arms embraced me. The fluid began to drag me under; I was being consumed whole and I felt warm and safe like an infant in the womb. Then there was ringing, and I was back at my desk.

    ¡°What is it?¡± I gasped, quick to answer the call.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Ethan asked. ¡°You¡¯re out of breath.¡±

    I reached behind my neck to feel for ports that weren''t there.

    ¡°It¡¯s nothing,¡± I lied, eager to move on. ¡°Did you find something?¡±

    I put the call on speaker; Gabe would want to be a part of this too.

    ¡°Yeah, I think I got him,¡± Ethan said. ¡°It¡¯s an almost perfect match. Height, build, gait, all of it. His medical history is extensive, and it gave him away. The guy was sickly, and he¡¯s had a lot of work done over the years. Gabe was right on the money. He is, in fact, a Penteract University alumnus.¡±

    ¡°Nice going, Gabe,¡± I said. ¡°If you keep this up, we might actually catch this guy.¡±

    ¡°I have my moments.¡± he quipped. ¡°Try not to get too impressed.¡±

    Ethan transferred us the files. We were looking at the true face of Zenith now, and he was nearly unrecognizable. The Zenith we saw was smooth, soft, and plastic. By contrast, the man in the photo was gaunt with slightly drooping features that seemed far too large for his face.

    ¡°His name is Dylan Hearst, and he is the son of Arthur Hearst, the president of Polar Water Industries, the sole supplier of water for all of Volare City,¡± Ethan said. ¡°It¡¯s big money. If I had to guess, I¡¯d bet his father has been funding all the Neo-Luminaries¡¯ activities up until now. I¡¯d also wager that the lawyer came on his father¡¯s behest.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, that would do it,¡± Gabe huffed. ¡°His dad is probably rolling in it; a guy like that could pay for all of his son¡¯s extracurriculars and still have enough loose change left over to put a lot of pressure on the higher ups.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re telling me he¡¯s untouchable,¡± I said.

    ¡°Not quite,¡± Ethan answered. ¡°What I¡¯m saying is that we¡¯re going to have to be careful and play it by ear. This isn¡¯t a man that will go down easy.¡±

    I wasn¡¯t an idealist anymore. I knew when not to put my faith in the system and it seemed like the longer I worked in law enforcement, the more frequent that became.

    ¡°Do you think he knows what his son has been up to?¡± I asked.

    ¡°I doubt it,¡± Ethan said. ¡°Dylan was the child from an affair, you¡¯re too young to remember, but it was a huge scandal. Tabloids had him front and center with his head covered in a blanket; his mom tried to protect him from the press. From what I gather, his father didn¡¯t do much of anything outside of paying child support.¡±

    ¡°So, you¡¯re saying he¡¯s a deadbeat?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Basically,¡± Ethan said. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if he¡¯s just been throwing money at the problem all these years, trying to keep his little secret under wraps. Dylan was everywhere and then he was nowhere at all. His father bailed him out this time, but now that Dylan has been suspected of murder, it might change things.¡±

    Running the Neo-Luminaries couldn¡¯t be cheap. On top of their building, which was a retrofitted Ether Bar, there were also the bills for all his adherents¡¯ modifications. Considering how cramped and rundown Nathan Ming¡¯s apartment was, it was safe to say that he could not have paid for them himself. I suspected that was true for the other three too.

    ¡°If daddy cuts him off, he¡¯s going to get desperate,¡± Gabe said. ¡°We should keep an eye on him, make sure he doesn¡¯t do anything drastic.¡±

    ¡°I get the feeling Zenith will make a move soon. It¡¯s only a matter of time and we are going to be waiting for him when he does,¡± Ethan said.

 Chapter 9 - Arc I: Not All That Glitters is Gold

    You think of time as neatly packed: sixty minutes in an hour, twenty-four hours in a day, and seven days in a week. In other words, simple. In reality, the objective truth and your perception of it don¡¯t always come part and parcel. We are only human after all ¨C intrinsically flawed, constantly disoriented, and always searching for meaning.

    It has been exactly eight days since my father¡¯s funeral. It didn¡¯t feel like it; it felt like it had been an eternity already. It felt like yesterday too. Where does the time go?

    I was due back in work today, just after the weekend. I was putting on my coat when I got a call; it was Lieutenant Blackwood giving me a direct order to stay home for the day; I couldn¡¯t refuse something like that. It¡¯s true that I was not doing well, but that was the nature of the beast. The tedium of the punishment files and my fitful nights of sleep were taking a toll on me.

    I leaned back against the side of the tub, my head resting on the rim, my eyes closed. Breathe. I filled my lungs until they felt like they would burst. Now exhale, back to baseline. The water had grown cold, and my fingers were wrinkled.

    I hated to admit it, but they weren¡¯t wrong. The dark circles under my eyes were growing more pronounced every day. My appetite was shot and it showed in the way my clothes hung off me. Frankly, I looked like shit.

    There was something about this case that was making me uneasy. It felt familiar in a way I couldn¡¯t place. The victim, who was only a few years older than Noah, frequented Yang¡¯s diner. It was the same diner that belonged to Lily, or more accurately, to her family. It was also not lost on me that his name was a portmanteau of my brothers¡¯ names, Noah and Ethan. Nathan, the victim, was no one in particular, and that made it unsettling in another way ¨C that he could have been anybody.

    Whether Ethan had noticed this as well, he didn¡¯t say. All he said was that he had arranged for Noah to meet me for dinner. Maybe he suspected that I had spent all weekend hiding in my apartment with the lights turned off and the curtains closed, trying to shut out the world. It bothered me sometimes how well he could read me.

    Marla and the Ghost¡¯s haunting song drifted through the air. It was a personal call. I gestured with my hand; the built-in tech obliged me.

    ¡°Hey, sorry, I¡¯m going to be running a bit late,¡± Noah said.

    ¡°Take your time,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m behind schedule too.¡±

    It was a risk, admittedly. Noah had a different idea of what it meant to take your time than most people, but I wasn¡¯t in a hurry.

    ***

    Famous last words. I knew I¡¯d made a mistake when it had grown dark outside the diner¡¯s front-facing windows and the seat across from me was still empty. And considering how many times my coffee had been refilled, ¡°a bit¡± had been an understatement. Lily apologetically topped off my cup all night. ¡®Boys will be boys,¡¯ she said. I didn¡¯t agree with the sentiment.

    I tapped my finger on the table, my fingernail clicking against the hard surface. Suddenly, the front door swung open. The electronic ¡°Ni Hao¡± of the door chime gave way to my brother, who rushed inside. Noah smoothed out his clothes, freshly damp from the rain.

    ¡°Sorry, I lost track of time,¡± he admitted, sliding into the booth seat across from me. ¡°Well, the thing is¡­¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t have a good reason, do you?¡± I said.

    ¡°Well¡­¡± he said. ¡°See, my friend John introduced me to this new game, right? And I was going to stop after the first boss, but then this villager came out of nowhere, and she¡¯s crying, ¡®Save me! Save me!¡¯ and what was I supposed to do? Just abandon her? So, I kept playing, and then the next thing I know, the sun¡¯s gone down and¨C.¡±

    ¡°And let me guess, you started getting the feeling that you were forgetting something?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, pretty much,¡± he said. ¡°You¡¯re not mad at me, are you?¡±

    Noah, being the youngest, was the most carefree of the three of us. Fortunately, rolling your eyes is a natural part of familiarity, and the occasional urges to throttle each other were considered endearing.

    ¡°If this is you being punctual, I¡¯d hate to see your grades,¡± I quipped.

    ¡°This is why I don¡¯t tell you anything,¡± he scowled, slouching slightly. ¡°I¡¯m a college student, alright? I¡¯m busy.¡±

    ¡°Busy enough to play games all day?¡± I asked, raising an eyebrow.

    Lily, sensing the tension, stopped by, cheerfully placing menus in front of us. Typical. Lily was a natural-born peace maker; any time anyone fought, she¡¯d be there front and center defusing the situation with her naturally friendly disposition. It was something I had begrudgingly never learned to do.

    ¡°Noah!¡± she cried. ¡°It¡¯s so nice to see you again. Look at you now, all grown up! The last time I saw you, you weren¡¯t even up to my shoulders yet. What happened?¡±

    ¡°Hey, Lily,¡± he said. ¡°What can I say? I guess I drank a lot of milk.¡±

    ¡°I can see that,¡± she chuckled. ¡°Now, what can I get for you?¡±

    I placed my order while Noah looked over the menu. He squinted at the names a bit before finally settling on orange chicken with a side of crab rangoon.

    ¡°Still scared of the authentic stuff, huh?¡± I asked.

    ¡°I can¡¯t help it,¡± he said. ¡°I didn¡¯t grow up eating this stuff the way you and Ethan did. Dad practically raised us on frozen pizzas and mac n cheese after¡­ after mom died.¡±

    We paused, the breath sticking in my lungs.

    ¡°That was out of line, Noah,¡± I said, turning away from him. ¡°I forget sometimes¡­ that it was different for you.¡±

    It is all too easy to fall into the trap of thinking others shared your same experience when you were all raised side by side, but even microcosms could exist in such a cramped space as a single home ¨C one house, four walls, and a roof.

    Noah was only five when our mother died; he was our mother¡¯s little miracle baby. After years spent pining over how much she wanted another child, her dream of a big family was finally fulfilled by little Noah. And her miracle baby replaced me overnight.

    ¡°You were almost done with high school and Ethan was already in college,¡± he said, eyes downcast. ¡°I don¡¯t even remember her.¡±

    Another pang hit me: guilt.

    ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have said anything,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s just that sometimes I envy you a bit. You¡¯re so carefree, and I¡¯ve always wondered if it was because¡­ because you didn¡¯t remember her. She loved Ethan; she practically worshipped the ground he walked on, her first-born son.¡±

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    ¡°She didn¡¯t understand him though,¡± Noah offered.

    ¡°No,¡± I agreed. ¡°She didn¡¯t understand any of us; we were too different from her, but she loved Ethan in a way she never loved me. I knew top-notch grades and perfect attendance were never going to cut it when I was¡­ this.¡±

    I gestured to myself, a tall, cynical woman who ran towards instead of away from danger. I was not petite, delicate, or good-natured the way Lily was. I was not traditional or sensible the way my mother was either. No, I was something else entirely; to my mother, a sensible woman would have never voluntarily forgone the path of marriage and motherhood to take on such a dangerous path and walk it alone.

    ¡°Don¡¯t say that,¡± Noah said. ¡°Dad was proud of you; mom would have been too.¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± I said, swallowing hard. ¡°Thanks, Noah¡­ for trying.¡±

    Then Lily, right on time, came out holding our food on a tray, and I was grateful for the interruption. We spent the rest of dinner on lighter topics, often punctuated by stilted silences. Maybe it was the large age gap between us, or maybe it was the way our parents never talked about the way they felt, but the three of us were never as close as we could have been.

    ¡°I¡¯ve gotta go,¡± Noah said, throwing some loose change on the table. ¡°I met a girl; she wants to see me tonight.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re meeting a girl tonight?¡± I asked. ¡°Do you know what time it is?¡±

    The clock hanging on the wall indicated it was already well past ten.

    ¡°By the time you get home, changed, and back out again it¡¯ll be at least eleven,¡± I continued.

    ¡°Look,¡± he said. ¡°I don¡¯t need you two babying me anymore. Let it go, Willow¡¯s waiting for me.¡±

    The door slammed shut, as Noah rushed out. I sighed. It was hard not to think of him as just the baby of the family anymore. When he was born, Ethan and I were already teenagers. We were always a bit protective of him, especially after our mom died. We watched over him like a hawk, and feeling predictably claustrophobic, he pulled away from us.

    Lily came over with a pot of coffee.

    ¡°Do you want me to top off your cup?¡± she asked.

    ¡°No,¡± I replied. ¡°If I keep drinking like this all night, I¡¯m going to feel it later.¡±

    She moved to sit across from me, setting down the pot and sliding into the booth too.

    ¡°Is it alright for you to sit and talk to me?¡± I asked, raising my brows.

    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± she replied, waving her hands dismissively. ¡°Slow night, you know?¡±

    It was true; I hadn¡¯t seen anyone come in in over an hour, and the only other patron in the diner had just left. His plate of food was still waiting to be cleared. The clock ticked, and we sat in silence, but then old memories came pouring back, and I was a schoolgirl again.

    ¡°Do you remember that dumb game we used to play?¡± I asked.

    ¡°You mean the ¡°L¡± is for game?¡± she asked. ¡°Hey, that wasn¡¯t dumb. I came up with it all by myself, and that makes it genius.¡±

    ¡°Sure,¡± I chuckled. ¡°Things were simpler then weren¡¯t they? You don¡¯t know how easy you have it when you¡¯re a kid; all you care about are games and flowers.¡±

    We shared more than just our mixed-race nature; we had matching names starting with the letter ¡°L.¡± Lily was, of course, self-evident ¨C a tall, elegant flower that symbolized purity and refined beauty. My name was a bit more subtle; if you blinked, you could¡¯ve missed it.

    In southern Vietnam, where my mother is from, there are two flowers that grace the streets during the new year celebrations of T?t. There is the apricot blossom, Mai, and the orchid, Lan. My mother had named me by flipping through a catalog and spotting a name that was just one letter away from beauty, elegance, and refinement. Later, she would say that it jinxed her.

    ¡°Not that easy,¡± she said, her smile faltering. ¡°I remember you often looked a little sad, and I¡¯d ask you why, and you would never ever say.¡±

    I blinked twice. I thought I always had a pretty good poker face. I wanted to be anything other than vulnerable because weakness got you hurt. That was what my parents drilled into me. My mother would lean over me, practically a tower while I was still so small, and say to me, ¡®What do you have to cry about?¡¯ And what could I do about it then? So, I learned not to cry.

    ¡°I never realized you noticed,¡± I said.

    ¡°I noticed a lot of things,¡± she admitted. ¡°It just never seemed like the right time to talk about it. I wanted to give you space. Sometimes, when you were sad, I¡¯d say we should go out or something¡­ My dad, you know, he¡¯d always give me a bowl of cut fruit whenever I was sad.¡±

    ¡°My mom did that too,¡± I chuckled. ¡°I guess it meant she cared in a way.¡±

    ¡°For some people, that¡¯s the only way they know how to show it,¡± she said. ¡°I know you didn¡¯t always get along with your mom that well, and it always made me feel so bad when she¡¯d stand right in front of us and ask you why you weren¡¯t more like me. But you know what, Lana? I think you¡¯re fine just the way you are.¡±

    My mind froze. My body was taut. My mind was empty. We stared at each other for a moment. Finally, I managed to choke out a few words.

    ¡°Thank you, Lily,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m sorry I didn¡¯t keep in touch.¡±

    ¡°No, it¡¯s not your fault,¡± Lily said. ¡°I didn¡¯t reach out either. I should have; it¡¯s been so long. I mean, look at Noah; he¡¯s all grown up now and seeing a girl. That¡¯s crazy! What did he say her name was? Willow, I think?¡±

    ¡°Willow¡­¡± I said, thinking out loud.

    This time, the name sunk in.

    ¡°What is it?¡± she said.

    That name, I had a bad feeling. I put my fingers to my temples, ringing. It went straight to voicemail. I called again, ¡®Hey, I¡¯m not here right now; leave a message after the beep.¡¯ Again. No luck. Again. No luck. Again. No, not this time either.

    ¡°Sorry, Lily,¡± I said. ¡°I have to go.¡± I was already pulling on my coat. ¡°Put it on my tab; we¡¯ll catch up another time.¡±

    Lily waved at me, eyes wide, while I rushed out to my car. The minute my ignition turned; I called Ethan.

    ¡°Hope you weren¡¯t sleeping,¡± I said. ¡°I need you to look into something for me, it¡¯s about Noah.¡±

    ¡°Just tell me what it is,¡± he said.

    ¡°Noah¡¯s meeting a girl tonight named Willow,¡± I said. ¡°I hate to be paranoid, but he¡¯s not picking up.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯d be quite a coincidence, but if it was going to happen to anybody, it¡¯d be Noah,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯ll get back to the lab and try to track his phone signal. In the meantime, you should get a hold of Gabe.¡±

    Fortunately, Gabe was a creature of habit. Whenever he needed to blow off steam, there was only one place I would find him. It was called the Holo Lounge, and it was just a few blocks from the precinct, a pretty convenient walk for anyone who wanted to get hammered after a particularly brutal shift.

    It wasn¡¯t long before I was walking through the front doors. The longue was still surprisingly lively considering the hour and the day of the week. This was the sort of place that sold you on nostalgia and rustic vibes. The only departure from the standard cabin aesthetic were holoscreens along the walls filled with cozy ambiance, a far cry from the colorful girls that you¡¯d expect to see downtown.

    Gabe was a big guy, and it didn¡¯t take long to find him. He was seated at a large wooden table with a few of the guys from work. We weren¡¯t familiar, but I would have been if Gabe had his way. According to him, I needed to get out more. I disagreed.

    I walked close, just a few tables away. There was no reason to waste time on pleasantries. It didn¡¯t take long for him to notice me. Once he caught my gaze, he excused himself from the table and followed me outside.

    ¡°Gabe,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ve got a bad feeling this time.¡±

    Gabe sobered up immediately.

    ¡°How bad?¡± he asked, frowning.

    Both our lines rang, it was Ethan.

    ¡°Lana, I got Noah¡¯s gps coordinates. He¡¯s inside.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t mean¡­¡±

    ¡°I do, and that¡¯s not the worst of it,¡± Ethan said. ¡°Their server has been wiped clean. It¡¯s gone, completely empty. All that¡¯s left is an announcement of a ceremony, farewell messages, and a countdown to midnight. This could be it, a last stand, Jamestown 2.0.¡±

    Images of the massacre flashed in my mind. A mass suicide. That was what they called it, but really, it was coercion and deceit. Jim Jones of the Peoples Temple had made the children drink the poisoned Flavor-Aid first.

    The attendees thought it was a drill, then there was screaming. And fifteen minutes later, when the cries of the children had died down, the heartbroken parents, who had just sent their children to the grave, lined up and took their share in silence.

    ¡°Why now?¡± I asked. ¡°They had five years to do it.¡±

    ¡°Maybe Daddy cut him off,¡± Gabe suggested.

    ¡°My thoughts exactly,¡± Ethan said. ¡°His members may have agreed to go willingly, but I wouldn¡¯t count on it with the others. If Noah was there, they probably wanted a crowd. Witnesses.¡±

    ¡°Arrogance,¡± I scowled. ¡°I¡¯m going. Now.¡±

    ¡°Hold on,¡± Ethan said. ¡°It could be a trap. We can¡¯t rule out that Noah was targeted specifically to lure you out. I¡¯m going to get in touch with Lieutenant Blackwood and see if I can get her to send back up. More lives on the line now; she might reconsider.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s no time for that,¡± I spat. ¡°It¡¯s already past eleven, by the time we get there, it¡¯ll be almost midnight as it is.¡±

    ¡°Hold on,¡± Gabe said. ¡°I¡¯m going with you.¡±

    ¡°You sure?¡± I asked. ¡°You¡¯re drunk.¡±

    ¡°Nah, just a little buzzed,¡± Gabe said. ¡°Besides, I¡¯m not letting you go alone. There¡¯re four of them; you¡¯re outnumbered, Lana. Don¡¯t be stupid.¡±

    I couldn¡¯t argue with that. It¡¯d be premature to show up alone, frazzled, and unprepared. At least together, we had a chance. My car was waiting for us, the keys still in the ignition. I floored it, my sirens blaring. The unmistakable red and blue lights split traffic like Moses and the Red Sea. I prayed for the first time in years. Please, Noah, wait for me.

 Chapter 10 - Arc I: Not All That Glitters is Gold

    The city blurred past my windows; the neon lights soon overtaken by sirens. The rules of the road were nothing to me; I would have flown if I could ¨C physics be damned. My tires screeched with each turn, leaving smoking black marks on the road. It smelled like burning rubber; it felt like Judgment Day.

    When we arrived at our destination, that small, non-descript building felt alien to us. This time we saw it with new eyes. Its form was obscured by the night, and inside of its pitch-black windows, there was only silence. In the city that never slept, the last thing you wanted to hear was nothing. Ducking down low, we drew our weapons and crept to the front entrance, slinking by with our backs against the walls.

    The glass pane doors were the only thing keeping us outside. We tried them; they shook without budging. D¨¦j¨¤ vu. It was like the first time we came here, when we had to leave empty-handed. The difference was jarring ¨C quite a sharp contrast to the open night when they had greeted us full of artificial cheer, a practiced show designed to lure in new victims. At least now they were being honest.

    ¡°Stand back,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m going to shoot it open.¡±

    He nodded at me and retreated behind one of the pillars supporting the covered entranceway. It only took two shots for the doors¡¯ panes to blow, showering the ground with shards of glass. They weren¡¯t bulletproof, something to be thankful for.

    ¡°Not bad,¡± he said, stepping over the bottom frame.

    The glass crunched under our feet as we made our way inside. Our eyes were slow to adjust to the darkness, and it took us some time to take in the room. Some of the furnishings were familiar, mainly the signature red runner that still ran down the center of the room, leading to the altar, and the large Ether chambers along the walls.

    Atop the altar, the standing bell was sat between a goblet of wine and a dagger, each laying respectively on either side of it. A woody aroma hung in the air from the incense sticks, now burned down to nubs.

    ¡°Drink my blood and becometh my flesh. We were meant to be immortal. Impervious. Steel and chrome. Organic, fickle, and fleeting,¡± he intoned.

    We spun around to the source, the man himself ¨C it was Zenith.

    ¡°We who are the children of the Lord are meant to bleed in his name, for he has blessed us with his flesh and his blood and shown us the truth that only we, the faithful, were ever meant to see,¡± Zenith said, stepping out from the darkness through a small door to the side of the altar.

    His eyes glowed a dull yellow, reminiscent of a cat, and a smirk played across his lips. He had caught us just as we caught glimpses of the hunched bodies sprawled across the pews. There were quite a few people, some of whom I recognized from the last time we were here. Golden chalices were still clasped in their hands, and for those who had dropped them, a red liquid pooled where they fell. The room smelled faintly of wine, masked by the strong scent of incense.

    ¡°What have you done?¡± I growled.

    ¡°My, my, Detective, hasn¡¯t anyone ever taught you any manners?¡± he asked. ¡°You¡¯ve made such a mess, and you haven¡¯t even received an invitation. That¡¯s awfully rude.¡±

    ¡°What are you after?¡± I asked. ¡°Admit it, you wanted us here. Where is my brother?¡±

    His attire was different tonight, ceremonial. When we had seen him before, his plain white robe and brown vest were humble and unassuming. He resembled Jesus Christ, the carpenter, with his shoulder-length brown hair. Tonight, he wore an elaborate gilded cassock, all gold on white, like oil on water. You could have thought he was the pope himself.

    ¡°Your brother?¡± he asked, tilting his head to the side. ¡°I¡¯m afraid that doesn¡¯t ring a bell.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t toy with us,¡± I said. ¡°Where is he?¡±

    He clicked his tongue and smiled, shaking his head with mock disappointment. Then, strolling over to the altar, he pulled out an earpiece from inside the standing bell.

    ¡°Look familiar?¡± he asked. ¡°It¡¯s a pity that you could not hear it when it rang. The interior of the bell made for rather nice acoustics, and it was music to my ears.¡±

    I dialed Noah¡¯s number again; no one in their right mind would take him at his word. Faintly, I could hear the ringing even from where I stood. It was Noah¡¯s. There was no denying it now.

    ¡°What was your name again? ¡°Walker,¡± was it?¡± he asked, holding his hand to his chin. ¡°Yes, that does sound a bit familiar now. I do believe we had a Walker in attendance.¡±

    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    ¡°If you hurt him, I¡¯ll make you pay for it,¡± I hissed.

    He locked eyes with me, but instead of responding, he simply smiled and turned to leave.

    ¡°Hold it!¡± I cried, already two steps forward.

    I nearly lunged at him, but Gabe kept me steady.

    ¡°The guy¡¯s basically a weapon, we¡¯re not gonna beat him with our fists,¡± he said, watching Zenith out of the corner of his eyes.

    ¡°You should listen to your partner,¡± Zenith sneered. ¡°He seems like a smart guy.¡±

    With a snap of his fingers, two men stood protectively in front of him. I recognized them. The man on the right was Caucasian and the man on the left was Hispanic, Joseph Garcia, the one who had left behind the chipped tooth we found in Nathan¡¯s apartment. Willow was nowhere in sight. Neither was my brother.

    ¡°How did you know about my brother?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Why, from you, of course,¡± he said. Then, placing his fingers on his temples, he began to recite something visible only with his eyes. ¡°¡¯We bid farewell to our father, Vincent Walker, who departed from this world on the 5<sup>th</sup> of May. Those who knew him remember him for how much he served his community. He was a pillar of strength and a beacon of justice. His spirit will be carried on by us, his children: Ethan, Lana, and Noah.¡¯ Sound familiar?¡±

    He paused, taking us in. A mix of emotions flashed across our faces. He was eating it up; a wide, toothy smile spread from ear to ear as his eyes narrowed in satisfaction.

    "My father¡¯s obituary? You''re sick," I spat.

    "Sick? No, not sick, Lana. I like to think of myself as resourceful."

    My father was a good man. People admired him; I did too, we all did. He was someone that kept working till the end, still fighting for justice even after he had grown old enough to retire. The danger that came with the job never even slowed him down. When he passed, suddenly in his sleep, we were lost, but the press wanted a piece.

    The last thing we needed were cameras swarming around his coffin. We compromised with the journalists and gave them an obituary instead. ¡®You don¡¯t need his funeral,¡¯ we said. ¡®Write about the life he lived instead.¡¯ People like my father had enemies. Apparently, so did I. I knew it might come back to bite us, but not like this.

    ¡°I appreciate your assistance; you¡¯ve been very helpful.¡± he said. ¡°I can¡¯t believe you have played your part so well tonight. Rejoice, my friends, for tonight you will witness our ascension to the next level. Praise be his name; praise be the lord for the end has come.¡±

    Then he turned and sauntered back into the room where he had emerged. Before we could make a move on him, the men that flanked him blocked the way with their bodies. Slowly, they raised their hands in surrender, exposing the hollows in their palms ¨C the same ones that resembled stigmata. The position would have looked submissive under ordinary circumstances, but with these two, I recognized them as the weapons they were.

    We ducked out of the way, down and to the left. The large, industrial ether chambers were our best bet for cover; it was either that or the wooden pews lined with unconscious bodies. The two men rained projectiles on us from the palms of their hands. They were not ordinary bullets; the places they made an impact were singed black.

    Our bodies moved before our minds caught up. Hands on the triggers, weapons drawn, flitting between shooting and falling back behind cover again and again. Our shots landed, but they didn¡¯t make a dent. We tried over and over, every time with the same result. It was a stalemate, and every second we wasted ate up more of that precious time we didn¡¯t have to spare.

    Frustrated, I closed my eyes. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. With the rise and fall of my chest, I prepared myself for the only thing left to do. I took aim, dead center, right between their hazy, Ether-taken eyes. Impact. The cracking sound of bone. Blood poured from their open skulls, but they did not fall. No, they stayed on their feet like sentinels. It was as if those gaping holes I left in their heads were merely an inconvenience.

    ¡°What the hell are they?¡± Gabe cried.

    The building was beginning to smoke now, and it stung my eyes. Squinting, I examined them from a distance with my Iris. The optical zoom revealed that even the insides of their skulls were covered in steel. They weren¡¯t just running the standard, run-of-the-mill neurochips. No, they were more machine than men; their organics were just the cherry on top ¨C a nice but unnecessary touch.

    ¡°Their augmentations are extensive,¡± I observed. ¡°Their limbs, sections of their skeletal system, their eyes. At this point, they¡¯re practically androids.¡±

    ¡°Must be why they didn¡¯t bother to dodge,¡± he said. ¡°Knew it didn¡¯t matter. Still, it¡¯s freaky as hell; they weren¡¯t afraid to die.¡±

    ¡°Fear is what Ether is good for,¡± I replied. ¡°They were so juiced up they probably didn¡¯t even know they were here.¡±

    Gabe gave me a look, gesturing towards the door with his head.

    ¡°Go,¡± he said.

    ¡°You want me to leave you behind?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Ain¡¯t got a choice, Lana,¡± he said. ¡°Someone¡¯s gotta keep these two busy. If I draw their fire, you can make a run for it, follow that bastard to the back.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t like this,¡± I said. ¡°You¡¯re drunk.¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± he said, arching his brow. ¡°I¡¯m drunk. That¡¯s why it¡¯s gotta be you.¡±

    The smoke was growing thick, obscuring our view. Fortunately for us, that worked both ways. If Gabe could make enough of a fuss, it¡¯d help me slip by undetected, even from just a few feet away.

    ¡°We can¡¯t kill them with what we¡¯ve got on us right now,¡± he added. ¡°We gotta buy time for back-up. Yeah, the guy¡¯s a freak, no doubt ¡®bout it, but a guy like that likes to hear the sound of his own voice. He¡¯s gonna draw it out, lay it on real thick.¡±

    With my mind made, I nodded. Gabe flashed me a grin before darting out towards the altar. He landed a few shots on them, mostly glancing blows. A lucky shot damaged one of their cybernetic eyes. It sparked and fell from the socket. That was my cue. While they recovered, I made a mad dash for the door Zenith had disappeared through and barred it door from within.

    There was a draft inside ¨C something whirring from deep within, electronics, no doubt. The building was deceptively small from the outside, and the corridor seemed too large for it. Step by step, I made my way. Beyond the corner, a narrow stairway led down below. It was no surprise that he would have hidden something in the basement. Zenith had a thing for theatrics, and this was his final show. Steeling myself, I took the first step, ready for anything.

 Chapter 11 - Arc I: Not All That Glitters is Gold

    I left the warmth of the main floor behind; the temperature seemed to drop with every step further down the stairway. At the bottom was a small door. I could hear the whirring coming from the other side. Bingo. This was it; Zenith was inside. With my gun held at the ready, I crept towards it, but it moved on its own, so much for stealth. Motion activation; convenient.

    With the door out of the way, the faint whirring was now distractingly loud, like buzzing in my ears. The source was some sort of structure in the center of the room; it appeared to be limitless, stretching high into the sky, piercing the heavens with its sharp steel edges; the clouds parted around it. Outside, it was night, but within the basement, I saw the light of day.

    Theatrics, all of it. Through my Iris, I could see the room for what it truly was; a harsh, barren concrete basement. This imagery of a black, gothic cathedral with a roof open to the sky was simply a well-built illusion, the product of carefully placed holograms. It was custom-made to make occupants feel small and awed in the face of God.

    Zenith was standing carelessly, in plain view; he had made no attempts to hide or shield himself. Perhaps he had even purposefully positioned himself to catch my gaze. He stood there in this impossible place with his head tilted back; all his focus was on the central fixture in the room; he admired it like it was perfection ¨C godly and beautiful. My presence was not unnoticed, but he did not turn to face me; it was a practiced sense of indifference.

    ¡°So glad you could join us, Detective,¡± he murmured. ¡°Such a wonderful day for company...¡±

    The tension I had seen in him earlier was gone now. He was at ease with his plan coming along just as he pictured it. He must have thought he already won.

    ¡°Why do you have it out for me and my family?¡±

    ¡°No, Detective,¡± he replied, still refusing to face me. ¡°You¡¯ve got it all wrong; I don¡¯t care about your family; I just wanted to watch you squirm. Yes, I saw a hint of guilt flash before your eyes, and it was beautiful; thank you for that. I enjoyed it.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re toying with me,¡± I observed.

    ¡°If you just figured that out now, you must not be as bright as I thought,¡± he said. ¡°How unfortunate, I almost regret luring you out all this way.¡±

    If he thought he was God, he surely looked the part. His shoulder-length brown hair was reminiscent of the Son of God, Jesus himself. Now, well lit, I had a better look at his attire. It wasn¡¯t just a white cassock gilded in gold-colored thread. His clothes were metallic, shimmering in the light. The silence stretched on as I stalked my way across the room.

    ¡°Tell me, do you believe in fate?¡±

    ¡°Do you?¡± I asked.

    He smiled, faintly irritated that I had dodged his question.

    ¡°Everything beautiful is fate, Detective. You should learn your place in the world; people like you submit to people like me.¡±

    Fate. Karma. Heaven. They all fit into the same category: wishful thinking. As comforting as it is to think we are all destined for greatness, it simply isn¡¯t true. And if it were, how could you account for all the suffering throughout the world? Even in just Volare City, a tiny, compact piece of humanity hardly visible from space, a million people lived, struggled, or died every day. How much of it was just? I couldn¡¯t say.

    ¡°Do you think fate brought you here?¡± I asked.

    He smiled without answering me, which, in and of itself, told me everything I needed to know. His eyes were still fixed on the towering structure in the center of the room. ¡°Do you like it?¡±

    From behind, the fixture simply looked like some sort of machine. Behind the illusion, it was a boxy metal shape. Without more to go off of, I suspected it was a server or a computer console, possibly both housed together in the same shell. Now, ten feet closer, I took note of the display on top of it. It resembled the Madonna della Piet¨¤, a famous marble statue of the Blessed Virgin Mary embracing her son, Jesus, in her arms as he died.

    ¡°The world has lost beauty,¡± he said. ¡°It has been ugly for some time.¡±

    The veil covering her head hid her face, but not her hair. I knew those long brown locks of flowing hair that peaked out from below it; they went all the way down to her waist. Starlight had been immobilized and mounted on a raised platform attached to the machine, and in her arms was someone still breathing. Their chest rose and fell, their body obscured by a cloth draped over them.

    Zenith smiled at me now and pulled back the sheet. I had a feeling, but I flinched anyway. It was Noah.

    ¡°What did you do to him?¡± I growled.

    ¡°The same thing I did to all the others; I gave him a bit of wine,¡± he said. ¡°It was a kindness. But this¡­¡± He gestured to my brother. ¡°This is a gift. Do you like it?¡±

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    His eyes narrowed as he spread his arms out into the air by his sides. Zenith, or rather, Dylan Hearst, was having the time of his life. Predators often enjoy catching their prey and watching them struggle. Domestic cats, still with a ghost of their ancestors, have been known to bat around mice until they can no longer entertain them. The cruelty was casual, the process was entertainment, and the result was never able to satisfy them.

    ¡°Why?¡± I asked. ¡°Why go this far?¡±

    I raised my gun and leveled it at his face.

    "Everything has been leading to this, Detective; this is my moment of glory. People like you think too highly of themselves. I wanted to put you in your place. You see, there is only one God in this room, Detective, and that¡¯s me.¡±

    He smiled at me, fearless, arrogance gleaming in his eyes.

    ¡°Are you telling me you don¡¯t fear death?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t fear anything,¡± he said. ¡°Care to guess why, Detective?¡±

    He watched me intently as I circled around the room, keeping my gun trained on him as I walked. There was a narrow pathway made for visitors to pass through, with low cement walls arranged like the Fibonacci spiral. I could have jumped them, but it would have been suicide; he¡¯d have shot me before I got within arm¡¯s reach, and I¡¯d have to get within arm¡¯s reach to make it matter.

    ¡°You want to die,¡± I observed. ¡°But you don¡¯t want to go alone.¡±

    ¡°Still pretending we¡¯re in control, are we?¡± he asked. ¡°It¡¯s almost admirable.¡±

    ¡°Tell me what happens at midnight,¡± I demanded.

    ¡°No, no, no,¡± he said, shaking his head. ¡°That¡¯s not how this works. What makes you think a woman gets to tell me what to do?¡±

    His lips twitched upward at the corners. Zenith was a simple man; he just wanted to play his little game ¨C the kind of game where he got to make all the rules and call all the shots. As long as I didn¡¯t give him what he wanted, it¡¯d buy me some more time, if only I had more.

    ¡°I can¡¯t imagine you plan to let us leave,¡± I said.

    ¡°No,¡± he said. ¡°All of you will follow us when the bell tolls twelve, and it will be an honor.¡±

    ¡°Going somewhere?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Only eternity,¡± he said. ¡°Our minds have already been digitalized. Now, our bodies are just vessels to be discarded, and you will bear witness as we ascend.¡±

    I had made it about halfway at this point. I felt my heart beating in my chest; it hammered against my skull. Closer, I needed to be closer. His mask was slipping, and I saw in his face an angry little boy ¨C petulant, almost childish, like when I was still a little girl trying to impress my parents, desperate to get them to tell me that I had done a good job.

    ¡°Why did you target me?¡± I asked. ¡°If this was just about our interference, you¡¯d had gone after my partner too.¡±

    ¡°Again, with the questions,¡± he sighed. ¡°Don¡¯t forget who¡¯s in charge.¡±

    ¡°Admit it,¡± I said. ¡°You can¡¯t stand being challenged by a woman.¡±

    It was a risk to challenge him, but if I could get him to lose his cool, it might just give me the opening I needed to take him down. My military-grade stun gun was sitting in a pouch on my belt. It was specifically made to take down guys like this, guys who were more machine than man, but I¡¯d need to make direct contact for it to work.

    I felt the smooth, rubbery grip in my left hand. With my right, I kept my gun trained on his head. He was still watching me take methodical steps, one at a time, closer and closer to him. Gabe was right on the money. Zenith wasn¡¯t in a hurry; he wanted to play with his food.

    ¡°You put up such a strong front, but you¡¯re nothing against me,¡± he said. ¡°You¡¯re just a dog, all bark and no bite.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m a bitch then?¡± I laughed. ¡°You know, I¡¯ve been wondering what would drive someone to do what you¡¯ve done, and I¡¯ve figured you out. You¡¯re so transparent.¡±

    ¡°Enlighten me then,¡± he said, folding his arms across his chest.

    I dialed Ethan and Gabe, but there was no answer; my Iris couldn¡¯t reach them. The walls of the basement were blocking my signal. I had to do this alone.

    ¡°You¡¯re still just a little boy, pretending to be a big man. Here you are, presenting your work to me so nicely because, secretly, you want my approval. You want me to quake in my boots and tell you that you¡¯ve done such a good job, but is it really my approval you want or your father¡¯s?¡±

    ¡°Filth,¡± he snarled. ¡°I am a GOD!¡±

    He held his fists out to his sides, his shoulders hunched, positioned to fight.

    ¡°Arthur Hearst,¡± I said. ¡°Sound familiar?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare say his name to me,¡± he hissed. ¡°He abandoned me ¨C no, not abandoned because he never even met me. That man has never been anything to me other than a paycheck, and now he is not even that.¡±

    ¡°Daddy cut you off?¡± I asked, and now it was my turn to smirk.

    His face was flushed a bloody red and a vein bulged out of his forehead.

    I wanted him to lose his cool, but I didn¡¯t want him to go berserk. Still, I¡¯d be lying if I said it didn¡¯t feel so damn good. Like a frog sitting in a pot of boiling water, I hadn¡¯t noticed the slow seep of smoke into the room, but it was filling the room now and there was no ignoring it any longer; the building was burning.

    I was running out of time, but there were still two problems I had to deal with. The first was the man standing in front of me, and the second was that I couldn¡¯t to leave my brother to die.

    Once I entered the clearing, my body moved on instinct, drunk on adrenaline. I lunged at him with the stun gun buzzing in my hand, barely inches away from his neck. I was so close I could taste it until I felt the breath knocked out of my lungs, and I was laying horizontal on the ground. The cold concrete did not cushion my fall. I saw stars. Zenith was standing over me, heaving as if it took all his strength to breathe, looking more like the demon he was than the god he pretended to be.

    ¡°I offered you the chance to join me in salvation, and you spat in my face,¡± he said. ¡°This city is filled with scum ¨C stupid, ugly, and worthless and you are no exception.¡±

    He opened his palm towards me and fired several rounds through the stigmata-like hole in his hand, leaving small lines of blood dripping down the side of my face. Then he stooped down and braced one hand against my shoulder and twisted. My arm burned. Spirals. A white-hot pain shot through me. I fought him, screaming like my life depended on it.

    Tendons tore. Blood poured. Bones cracked. And before I knew it, he was dangling something above me. I recognized the patch on the sleeve ¨C an eye with rays radiating from the iris, a border to the sides. I looked to my right and saw what I lacked; it was my arm.

    And then I was floating, a viscous fluid cradling me, but I wasn¡¯t drowning. My blood ran warm, soaking into my clothes. A loud whine shot through the air. Zenith collapsed like a pile of scraps, crashing beside me. The ambulatory staff in white uniforms rushed over to me. The ringing in my ears drowned out their voices, but I thought I made out the words on their lips. ¡®You¡¯re safe now,¡¯ they said. Someone bagged my arm. I saw white, then black, then nothing.

 Chapter 12 - Arc I: Not All That Glitters is Gold

    The ambulance ride came in blurry bits and pieces. There were flashes of people beside me ¨C Gabe¡¯s face alternating with the ambulance staff. The gurney¡¯s nylon straps held me down against my will. Several half-hearted attempts later, I settled on watching the blood bag dangling above me. The steady drip leading down to my arm was a constant to ground me.

    When we arrived in front of the gleaming white hospital, that symbol of prosperity, there was a flurry of movement. I remember running. I remember an elevator. The dinging it made when the doors opened and closed was punctuated by a moment of silence. It was so quiet that I could hear the breath in my ears. Then, more running, and it wasn¡¯t long before I was sedated, and my wound was sutured shut.

    A doctor was standing in front of me now; he was holding a tablet in his hands. My nausea made my head feel too heavy to lift. Compromising, I settled on staring at the name tag above his right chest pocket instead. It read ¡°Dr. Anthony Carter.¡± Ideally, I would have liked a face to add to the name. The stub left of my arm itched. I didn¡¯t know what was worse ¨C the pain or the itching.

    ¡°Miss Walker?¡± the doctor asked.

    His words passed right through me. I blinked slowly.

    ¡°Miss Walker¡­¡± he repeated before pocketing his tablet in defeat. ¡°I¡¯ll come back later.¡±

    His white lab coat nearly caught on the door as he sped out of the room. No rest for the wicked, indeed. Everyone always had somewhere to go. The brief moment of clarity was short-lived. Before long, my mind emptied, and I slept again. When my eyes opened next, Ethan was sitting beside me. He was sitting in one of the two beige folding chairs by my bed. The seat next to him was empty.

    ¡°How long has it been?¡± I asked before trying to sit up.

    Ethan glanced up from his lap, eyeing me warily with bloodshot eyes.

    ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± he sighed, his head still resting on his hands with his arms propped up on his knees. ¡°You need to rest.¡±

    ¡°How long has it been?¡± I asked.

    ¡°About twenty-four hours,¡± Ethan said, peering at me from behind his glasses, his messy hair hanging in front of his face.

    Ethan was the rock among the three of us. To me, he was like a pillar ¨C strong and fearless. When we were still small, those four years he had on me felt like a lifetime of difference, and I¡¯d be in awe of all the things he could do. I still remember the time he first learned to ride a bike, just eight at the time. His unsteady movements were offset by the training wheels, which occasionally met the ground. He was triumphant with his helmet far too large for his head, and his smile gapped from his adult teeth, not quite grown in yet.

    ¡®If he could do it, I could too,¡¯ I thought, heading towards him to claim my turn. My mother had other ideas. ¡®No, Lana,¡¯ she said, grabbing my arm. ¡®Don¡¯t bother your brother.¡¯ Stomping my feet, I wailed until my mother led me back inside. When I was four, he was twice my age. Now those four years were utterly insignificant, and even in all those years, I¡¯d hardly ever seen my brother cry.

    ¡°I¡¯m glad you¡¯re up,¡± he sighed.

    ¡°Where¡¯s Gabe?¡±

    ¡°Keeping Noah company,¡± he said. ¡°Thought he¡¯d give us some space.¡±

    Ethan leaned back; the chair creaked with his shifting weight.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± he said, reading my mind. ¡°He¡¯s just a bit shaken up. The doctor says he¡¯ll make a full recovery.¡±

    I sighed in relief as he straighten up, looking more like himself.

    ¡°I tried to call you,¡± he said. ¡°Tried to tell you help was on the way.¡±

    ¡°I know,¡± I said. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t have left me on my own if you didn¡¯t have to.¡±

    It wasn¡¯t his fault. The walls of their building, that repurposed Ether bar, were insulated somehow. If we had prepared better, maybe something could have been done about it, but with Noah¡¯s life on the line, we were short on time and had no choice but to dive in head first. Our signal was already weak on the main floor, and by the time I was inside the basement, it was practically nonexistent.

    ¡°Hold on,¡± I said. ¡°I was reckless too.¡±

    ¡°Lana,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m supposed to look out for you two.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± I said, clenching my jaw. ¡°Just let me be an idiot sometimes.¡±

    For a moment, neither of us knew what to say until, finally, Ethan broke the silence.

    ¡°You¡¯re not an idiot, Lana,¡± he whispered.

    Then we sat in silence, equally lost for words. An eternity passed before we heard a knock on the door. The motion activated door slid open, and Gabe stepped through the doorway. With a half-hearted smile, he took one look at us and stopped in his tracks. We must have been a sight for sore eyes.

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    ¡°Bad time?¡± he asked, raising his brows.

    ¡°No,¡± I said. ¡°You should stay; we could use the company.¡±

    Gabe rubbed his jaw gingerly before sitting down in the seat beside Ethan. I noticed his stubble; it was more prominent than usual.

    ¡°How are you holding up?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Terrible,¡± I huffed with more honesty than I¡¯d had in a long time, and we laughed ¨C a full-bodied laugh where nothing else in the world mattered, if only for a moment. My father always said that if you couldn¡¯t laugh at the way life went to hell sometimes, you¡¯d never laugh at all. Wise words. Life was often cruel and ugly, no matter how you sliced it.

    Gabe hunched over with his hands between his knees.

    ¡°Been feeling some sort of way,¡± he said, pausing. ¡°Told you to deal with the guy on your own...¡±

    He trailed off, and I finished where he left off.

    ¡°Don¡¯t apologize,¡± I said. ¡°You had faith in me, and we still took him down in the end. That¡¯s all that matters.¡±

    He nodded, satisfied.

    ¡°We couldn¡¯t have done it without backup,¡± Ethan interjected, moving on. ¡°It took a while, but I got the lieutenant to see things our way. With how everything was stacking up and his father distancing himself from the situation, it was only a matter of time. That¡¯s why Zenith rushed the end; it was his final Hail Mary ¨C his chance to go out on his own terms.¡±

    He paused, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger.

    ¡°It¡¯s infuriating how easy it would have been if they had just gotten there sooner. The tech specialists have toys we don¡¯t get to play with; there wasn¡¯t much to it once they broke out the electromagnetic wave emitter¡­¡±

    I tried to scratch what was left of my arm.

    ¡°Don¡¯t scratch,¡± Ethan said, scowling.

    ¡°I can¡¯t stand it,¡± I complained.

    ¡°It¡¯s supposed to itch.¡± He said, sighing. ¡°That means it¡¯s working.¡±

    Nanobots. I knew a thing or two about them; they were an innovation of medical science. A hundred years ago, they were rudimentary at best, but now they could do almost anything ¨C almost anything other than regenerate a missing limb, unfortunately for me. I closed my eyes, imagining those tiny, sphere-shaped pods swimming through my veins, hard at work with their tiny insectoid legs, picking and scraping at my cells where it was a lost cause and adding back material where it needed to be replaced.

    ¡°It¡¯d be nice if they could regenerate my arm while they were at it,¡± I grumbled.

    The image of the Zenith standing above me was still fresh in my mind ¨C his stance, my arm dangling in his hand, the way my blood dripped from the fingertips. Over and over, it played in my head like a glitched loop with no way out.

    ¡°I assume Zenith didn¡¯t make it,¡± I said, more of a question than a statement.

    ¡°No, none of them did,¡± Ethan said. ¡°Their server and computer console were fried by the wave that took out Zenith. Willow lasted longer because she had fewer mods to fry. The medical staff reported that she was still breathing when they arrived on the scene, but she only held on for another hour.¡±

    ¡°She wasn¡¯t spared, then, was she?¡± I asked and continued on without waiting for a response. ¡°He probably thought it wasn¡¯t worth the effort to augment her as much as the others. To him, all she was good for was luring in new recruits, serving refreshments, and dying looking pretty. I can¡¯t say I¡¯m surprised.¡±

    Gabe grunted in agreement.

    ¡°But there was one way that he treated them all equally,¡± Ethan said. ¡°Everyone got the same dose, man or woman. Willow didn¡¯t stand a chance; Noah got lucky.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about the guys in the pews,¡± Gabe said, reading my mind. ¡°Most of them made it.¡±

    ¡°Only most?¡± I asked.

    ¡°We take what we get, Lana,¡± Ethan said. ¡°None of us get to have it all.¡±

    Those chalices ¨C some still grasped in unconscious hands, their celebratory wine, both their final toast and their last meal. It was sick. They must have been happy, smiling widely in a room filled with only the chosen, their final companions. None of them knew what was coming, not until people started doubling over.

    ¡°What about the computer?¡± I asked. ¡°Did it finish uploading?¡±

    ¡°No, the wave got to it before it could finish,¡± Ethan said. ¡°In the end, all they uploaded were fragments of their digitalized personality.¡±

    ¡°So much for the next level,¡± I groaned. ¡°All those people died for nothing.¡±

    ¡°They wanted to live forever, and they died for it; there¡¯s an irony in that,¡± Ethan said.

    I nodded, lost in thought. Considering how things turned out, it might have been an omen that our first victim¡¯s name was a portmanteau of Ethan and Noah. Coincidences like that really make you wonder sometimes if people are connected together by red threads, even when you know it couldn¡¯t possibly be fate.

    The doctor knocked on the door again, and he walked in. This time, I caught his face. He looked ordinary.

    ¡°Are you ready to discuss your options, Miss Walker?¡± he asked, pulling out a tablet and a stylus pen from his coat pocket.

    "There¡¯s no need for discussion,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ll do it, just put me in surgery.¡±

    Ethan sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

    ¡°You¡¯re lucky you have me to look out for you,¡± he said. ¡°Fortunately, I knew you would be too eager to get it over with. I already discussed your options with him while you were unconscious.¡±

    ¡°And I knew you would have,¡± I said. ¡°We make a good team.¡±

    The doctor handed me the stylus, and I signed my name on the dot. My hand shook, and the result was ugly. My name looked like the scribbling of a child, wobbly and graceless, much like Ethan with his first time on a bike. If only learning to write again would be as easy.

    At least there was a silver lining; the heavy-duty military-grade replacements the Luminaries favored came with a high risk of rejection, but lower-end models with less power also came with less risk. All I needed was my dexterity; even a weaker model would give me more power than my original limb would have.

    For the skeptical, there were still old-school plastic prosthetics you strapped on in the morning and took off at night, but no one bothered with them unless they either couldn¡¯t afford augmentation or were a member of the sole surviving sect of what was once the Amish.

    ¡°Thank you, Miss Walker,¡± he said as he took the stylus back from me. ¡°You¡¯re in luck; we¡¯ll be able to fit you in for surgery tonight.¡±

    ¡°The department pulled some strings,¡± Ethan said. ¡°The lieutenant said to consider it an apology. They¡¯ll be footing the bill as well.¡±

    ¡°Thoughtful,¡± I said sarcastically. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have lost my arm in the first place if they hadn¡¯t gotten in our way.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s bureaucracy for you,¡± he sighed. ¡°There¡¯s nothing you can do about it.¡±

    Then he motioned to Gabe. After a curt nod, they both stood to leave.

    ¡°When I was alone with him¨C¡° I said, but he put up a hand to stop me.

    ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯ll get it out of your Iris, and whatever I can¡¯t, I¡¯ll get from the suspects themselves. With how modified they were, digging through their memories is only a matter of hard work and patience. You have bigger problems right now. We can talk later.¡±

    ¡°See you on the other side,¡± Gabe said, before clapping me on the shoulder and heading out.

 Chapter 13 - Arc I: Not All That Glitters is Gold

    I pushed aside the curtains with my good hand. They fluttered from the artificial breeze streaming in from the edges of the windowsill, giving an illusion of the outdoors. To my chagrin, the windows themselves could not actually be opened.

    The hospital gave me a bird¡¯s eye view from the center of the city, but I was looking at it with new eyes. The last time I stood on my balcony, I felt small, nearly insignificant in a sea of people who I would never meet, and likely never save, but tonight I was lucky to be alive. The light emanating from the city blurred the edges of the piercing buildings with the night sky.

    The streams of headlights speeding past the illuminated billboards and neon lights almost made it feel like you could soar, just like its name, ¡°Volare,¡± suggested. It was common for na?ve and starry-eyed youths to make their way here seeking the dream that it¡¯s sparkling lights sold. Occasionally, they¡¯d even make it, but, inevitably, most of them would end up heartbroken with their dreams gone up in smoke, just like vapor clouds.

    A dull pain throbbed in my right shoulder. The surgery was a success; they said I was an ideal patient who would fully recover as long as I took a daily dose of immunosuppressants for the next few weeks. All that was left was to leave it to God. Time and fate were not my domain, no matter how much I have tried to control them.

    The pain killers were wearing off now, and the weight I felt in my head was gone. I would have been celebrating, if it wasn¡¯t just one problem being replaced by another; the pain in my shoulder had come back as well. Advances in medicine rolled out every year, but they had yet to design an arm as lightweight as the flesh and blood equivalent. To make matters worse, my new arm would have to remain in a sling for some time. Doctor¡¯s orders.

    There was a knock on the door behind me and I turned to my bedside table to buzz them in. To my surprise, Ethan walked through the door.

    ¡°You¡¯re out of bed,¡± he said, frowning.

    ¡°Hate to break it to you,¡± I said. ¡°But I lost my arm, not my leg.¡±

    ¡°Fair enough,¡± he said and walked over beside me.

    My artificial fingers were peeking out from the edge of the sling. They looked almost identical to the ones I had lost; the craftsmanship was impeccable, but they didn¡¯t feel like mine, at least not yet. Everything still felt like a fever dream, like I was just playing the role of a patient in a hospital to pass the time, humoring someone else¡¯s idea of entertainment.

    I shrugged, but it was lopsided. We stood there, grinning sheepishly at each other with the absurdity of it all. He looked better this time, like he might even have had a good night of sleep. His hair wasn¡¯t a mess either; this time it was neatly swept to the side. That was the Ethan I knew, not the man I saw last time, the one I barely recognized.

    Another knock came from the door and a button press later Gabe joined us in the small room as well. The door slid closed behind him.

    ¡°How does it feel?¡± Ethan asked.

    I ran the edge of the sling between my new fingers. The joints felt stiff, and the texture of the fabric felt wrong to me the same way an old friend with a new face might.

    ¡°I¡¯ll just have to get used to it,¡± I said, shrugging again. ¡°I¡¯ve been through worse.¡±

    ¡°You sure about that?¡± Gabe asked, arching an eyebrow.

    Ethan took a step back to make room for him. Gabe clapped me on my good shoulder before settling against the wall by the window. The three of us were faintly illuminated by the city¡¯s lights creeping in from the window. I was quietly appreciative that they hadn¡¯t expected me to hit the lights. I found a sense of comfort in darkness, and I hid from the light when the world became too much for me.

    ¡°I thought visiting hours were over,¡± I said.

    ¡°Lieutenant Blackwood pulled some strings for us,¡± Ethan said.

    ¡°Careful,¡± I said. ¡°If she keeps this up, I might actually think she cares.¡±

    The three of us chuckled together.

    ¡°Nah, she¡¯s working us like dogs,¡± Gabe said. ¡°We¡¯re still on the clock.¡±

    I grinned while Ethan pulled out the holographic disc from his pocket. I¡¯d been dying to see all the nitty-gritty details ¨C the culmination of all our hard work. One click later, a yellow beam was rendering headshots of the five luminaries. They fanned out, rotating slowly around an axis, their faces passing us one by one.

    ¡°The higher-ups wanted this case closed and done with as soon as possible, so we¡¯ve been getting some help from the other departments,¡± Ethan said.

    ¡°It must have been something to see all those empty desks filled. I¡¯m almost sad I wasn¡¯t there to see it.¡±

    Our precinct was a dead zone; we walked through empty halls just to get to a room filled with rows of empty desks. It felt like staring at lost potential. There were once over two dozen people in our department, but we¡¯ve never seen it that way; that was back in its heyday. Over the years, it was whittled down to just the two of us, with nothing other than Gabe¡¯s drinking bird toy bobbing its head up and down to keep us company.

    ¡°You should have seen it,¡± he said. ¡°The minute we bagged him the precinct went into overdrive, but we had help from the other departments too.¡±

    ¡°Been nice if we had that kind of help before,¡± I groaned.

    Gabe huffed in agreement.

    Right to business, Ethan swiped his hand to the right. The hologram shifted to show a young boy. He was small for his age, thin, frail, and fragile. It was difficult to believe that this young boy would one day become the man we knew as Zenith, the one that looked like stretched taffy with metallic limbs far too long for his body. A list of medical conditions, treatments, and dates scrolled up to the side like a credits reel.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about the medical jargon,¡± Ethan said. ¡°This is all you need to know.¡±

    Sliding his fingers through the air, he highlighted a section of text beginning with the term ¡°muscular dystrophy.¡± I¡¯d heard of it before; it was an ugly disease. Those afflicted with it tend to waste away. Even at his young age, the effects were already visible on his face. With his gaunt appearance, his eyes seemed too large and his cheekbones too prominent.

    ¡°The kid was sick, practically lived at the hospital,¡± Gabe said.

    ¡°Zenith, or rather, Dylan Hearst, had quite a few medical procedures, including a decent chunk of the augmentation he later made his signature,¡± Ethan said.

    The next clip showed an older boy somewhere in his teens. This time, his arms were visibly metallic, although they were mostly hidden beneath the sleeves of his shirt. He was standing off to the side of a field while the other boys played. He was holding himself quite stiffly, and when he turned to face the camera, his eyes were empty.

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    ¡°It¡¯s not easy being a teenager,¡± I observed. ¡°Even less so when you stick out like a sore thumb.¡±

    ¡°No, it¡¯s not,¡± Ethan agreed. ¡°Dylan was often bullied or shunned by his peers. I found pages of complaints from his mother in the school system spanning from petty theft to assault.¡±

    ¡°Did he do anything to provoke them?¡± I asked.

    ¡°No, not as far as I can tell,¡± Ethan said. ¡°He was just different.¡±

    The following clip showed Dylan Hearst as a young man. He still looked strangely ordinary; perhaps it would take time for him to decide to augment his height with those extended limbs. His clothes were plain and ironed freshly enough to cut yourself on the edges. I suppose he was going for an image of professionalism, but his ranting had a jittery sharpness to it that couldn¡¯t be hidden by a nice set of clothes.

    ¡°The world is ugly and corrupted,¡± he said. ¡°But we can fix it. The answer is so simple; the masses are just too stupid to see it! We can eradicate all the evil from the world ¨C all the evil that makes people petty, ugly, and dull. They- they hated me before. They beat me, they stole my stuff, and it left me wondering what I did wrong, but then I realized something. It was because they were jealous. It was because I was better than them. They hated me because I made them realize what freaks they were, and I¡¯m going to show all of them that I¡¯m closer to perfection than they ever will be.¡±

    This younger version of Zenith wasn¡¯t as coy. No, he was young and arrogant, and he wore it on his face like a badge of honor. He had the eyes of a madman, and his hands looked like he was trying to choke someone who wasn¡¯t there. It must have taken some time to develop the persona of the gentle shepherd he sold to his guests the night we showed up for their open night. This was his true face. This was the version of him that came out when he lashed out at us. This was the face that was honest.

    Zenith documented every aspect of his life. For a man who was meant to be a ghost, he did exactly the opposite of fly under the radar. The records showed that there are instances of his father stepping in to prevent him, his illegitimate son, from attracting unwanted attention, going back as far as twenty years. It must have been a rebellion for him. He wanted to be seen and acknowledged.

    ¡°He made his suffering into something twisted and noble,¡± I observed.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Gabe agreed. ¡°Poor bastard had a few screws loose.¡±

    Another swipe later, and the holographic disc shifted to a three-dimensional model of his body lying on the coroner¡¯s table. This time he was pale and lifeless, his clothing replaced by a loose white cloth draped over it. Small cubes floated around him, connected to his body by thin threads of light. Each cube displayed a point of interest, and labels hung underneath them.

    Starting at his head, there were already three very invasive modifications: his eyes were replaced with cybernetic ocular implants, his skull was reinforced with metal, and a network of semi-fluid structures were threaded through his brain like a crown.

    Moving down to his torso, both his nipples and belly button were removed. He appeared as smooth and inorganic as a doll. Towards the back, his spine was reinforced with steel. Finally, his limbs were completely replaced by the model with the hollows in their palms. The stigmata-like holes were singed at the edges from those last shots he took by my head that night.

    ¡°How old was he?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Twenty-seven,¡± Ethan answered.

    ¡°Then he was just young enough to feel bulletproof and just old enough to do something stupid with it,¡± I groaned. ¡°What a waste.¡±

    I tapped on a cube, displaying his eyes. It bounced with my touch and expanded to show a close-up of his face. He had died with them wide open. In contrast to his body, his eyes were still full of life; death had merely been an inconvenience to them. However, they were left vacant without a driver to command them. I was struck by how young he looked. At twenty-seven, he hadn¡¯t even lived half of an expected lifespan yet.

    ¡°He should have gotten his life together and told his dad to go to hell. It would have been more of a middle finger than whatever this was,¡± I said, gesturing towards the model of his body.

    This city ate its youth and spat them back out, bloody, broken, and screaming. Nepotism was worth more than hard work, and troubled kids flew under the radar. I wondered how much crime could have been prevented if the city took care of its people instead of letting them eat themselves.

    ¡°Nathan was targeted for trying to leave the group,¡± I said. ¡°What else do we have on him?¡±

    The holographic disc shifted to show a page from the Bible. The edge had been painstakingly cut, with how clean the edges were. In the center, there was a singular verse stained in wine ¨C the blood of Christ. It read ¨C ¡°2 Corinthians 5:6-8 - So we are always of good courage. We know that while we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord, for we walk by faith, not by sight. Yes, we are of good courage, and we would rather be away from the body and at home with the Lord.¡± Below the verse was a meticulous drawing of a disassembled body burned into the paper. A noose led down to the neck of the crumpled form.

    ¡°Zenith judged Nathan guilty of blasphemy after he rejected his modifications. He saw it like rejection,¡± Ethan said. ¡°He wanted to take back his gifts that Nathan no longer deserved.¡±

    ¡°We should have thrown the guy in prison,¡± Gabe said. ¡°It wasn¡¯t right he got to parade around so long in his little one-man circus.¡±

    We had a moment of silence as we contemplated what we already knew. He had been allowed to prey on the disadvantaged and vulnerable people he found for years, with nobody to stop him. The only thing that led to his downfall in the end was his own hubris. Without him handing us a decorated corpse, he might have never been brought to justice.

    ¡°Then there¡¯s just one thing left to wrap up isn¡¯t there?¡± I asked, more of a statement than a question.

    Ethan grinned and continued where he left off ¨C Nathan Ming, our murder victim.

    ¡°During our briefing, we skipped over his family. There¡¯s a reason for that. This case was handed to us from the grunts when they realized it was above their paygrade. The file they gave us came with a note about his family. Specifically, that he hadn¡¯t seen them in years ¨C enough years to matter.¡±

    ¡°What happened?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Who knows? The records aren¡¯t there,¡± Ethan groaned. ¡°The best we could do was track down a few domestic violence reports, but not much came of them.¡±

    ¡°And the body?¡± I asked.

    ¡°We called them,¡± Gabe said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. ¡°Offered them his body. Told us they didn¡¯t want it. The poor bastard got cremated and scattered with all the other unclaimed bodies.¡±

    I knew the place, Evergreen Gardens. The name was misleading; there was nothing evergreen about it. It was a pitiful, small clearing full of yellow, sunbaked grass. I¡¯m not one to believe in gods or spirits, but I swore that would be where the dead would walk the earth, crying out for heaven.

    ¡°What about the others?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Willow¡¯s family came for her,¡± Ethan answered. ¡°We didn¡¯t expect her parents to show, their relationship was also rocky, but, unlike Nathan¡¯s parents, they all came in tow and wept when the coroner pulled back the sheet to show them her face. They held her a proper burial too. Some are luckier than others.¡±

    ¡°The other two didn¡¯t have anyone to collect either,¡± Gabe said. ¡°Must had had it rough.¡±

    ¡°He exploited people looking for somewhere to belong,¡± I said, gritting my teeth. ¡°People who were lonely, poor, and desperate.¡±

    Ethan looked away for a moment, gazing out the window. Then he tilted his head to the side and murmured a low hum.

    ¡°It¡¯s frustrating, isn¡¯t it? He might as well have been wearing a sign on his chest flashing guilt in neon letters,¡± Ethan said. ¡°Once we got our hands on his hard drives there was nothing to it. He filmed the whole thing. The three of them got Nathan to let them in and once the door closed behind them it was all over. Nathan got in a few good swings and knocked a tooth loose, but he didn¡¯t stand a chance. Zenith stood back, just watching while the other two went at it. And once he was down, they hung him from the ceiling fan, watched him die, and dismembered his corpse.¡±

    ¡°It was right there¡­ It was right there the whole time,¡± I cried, and this time my tears fell from my eyes, leaving wet streaks down my cheeks.

    ¡°We save who we can, Lana,¡± Ethan said, turning back to look at me. ¡°We¡¯ve already done what we could; now we just have to live with it.¡±

    The three of us were silent again for a moment. Gabe rubbed the back of his head before letting his arm fall back down by his side. He gave me a knowing gaze, saying more without words than some men could with a thousand. I ran my hand through my hair, bunching it into a mess behind my head, pulling hard enough to hurt.

    ¡°What now?¡± I asked, not meeting his gaze.

    ¡°Well,¡± he said, grinning sheepishly, before crossing his arms and shifting his weight to his other foot. ¡°Ella said if I don''t take some time off work, she''ll tie me to a chair and call it in for me.¡±

    Ella was Ethan¡¯s wife and was a good woman. In fact, she might have been a saint. Despite our family¡¯s trademark obsessions and bullheaded tendency to work ourselves to death, she stood by him all these years, through thick and thin, till death do they part.

    ¡°You''re going to have to find out what relaxing is, do you think you''ll survive?¡± I quipped.

    ¡°I suppose we¡¯ll find out,¡± he said.

 Chapter 14 - Arc I: Not All That Glitters is Gold [Arc I End]

    This park was the ¡°touch of nature,¡± my apartment complex had promised to me. Scenic sights and a touch of nature ¨C who could resist? My name was on the apartment lease before the guy was through selling me on its highlights. To be honest, I knew they were lying through their teeth. The place was just one step above a dump, but the view they promised was good enough to make up for it, and I was in a hurry. That was back when I was still a rookie detective and all I wanted was a place to sleep at night. Who knew I¡¯d still be here all these years later?

    The park had a narrow walking path circling around a small, dirty pond approximately seven feet in diameter. On the west side, there was exactly one picnic table, and on the east side, all it had to offer was the wooden bench I was currently sitting on. The silver lining was in the shade of the tree overhead. Despite nearly half of its branches being bare, there was just enough foliage to shade me from the summer heat. The end of the season was fast approaching, and I wasn¡¯t about to miss all the sun and humidity that came with it.

    A can clattered nearby as it hit the sidewalk. I looked up just in time to see Gabe heading my way. Other than a few people passing through, the park was deserted. People could sense the cop on us from a mile away. Whether or not we were in uniform, we seemed to give ourselves away. It¡¯s not always easy to leave your job behind when you clock out and head home at the end of the day.

    Gabe took a seat next to me on the small wooden bench, only big enough to hold two.

    ¡°How¡¯s your arm treating you?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Well,¡± I said. ¡°Some days I want to chuck the thing out the window; let¡¯s put it that way.¡±

    He nodded and nothing more needed to be said. We both knew that physiotherapy could be a living hell. I was not the first person in the precinct to go through it and I certainly wouldn¡¯t be the last. The clinic walked me through simple tasks; simple tasks that would have been easy enough to be insulting just a few weeks ago. Now, they left me sweating and gritting my teeth in pain. The arm was synthetic, but my shoulder sure wasn¡¯t.

    ¡°Didn¡¯t invite Ethan?¡± Gabe asked, arching a brow.

    ¡°He needs to spend time with his wife,¡± I said. ¡°I can¡¯t lean on him too much.¡±

    I scattered a handful of bird seeds and a few grateful birds gathered around to peck at them. I was always more willing to give help than to receive it.

    ¡°And about work,¡± I continued. ¡°The doctor said it won¡¯t be anytime soon.¡±

    ¡°Is it gonna fall off if you hit something?¡± Gabe joked.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± I said. ¡°Something like that.¡±

    They say what doesn¡¯t kill you makes you stronger. I wasn¡¯t sure if I believed it considering I had yet to find any newfound strength. Perhaps what doesn¡¯t kill you makes you stranger instead.

    ¡°I¡¯m closer to the way those cultists were now,¡± I said. ¡°I don¡¯t know how to feel about it.¡±

    Gabe leaned back thoughtfully, propping up an arm on the back of the bench.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it,¡± he said. ¡°Most people have work done these days; walk down the street and you¡¯ll pass five on the way.¡±

    ¡°And you?¡± I asked.

    ¡°That goes for me too,¡± he said, tapping on the side of his head. ¡°Back when I was young, and on top of the world. Mostly, I just wanted to party.¡±

    Our college days predated the time we knew each other, and I had a hard time imagining the Gabe I knew as the type to live it up, getting high on Ether between his classes, completely carefree and irresponsible. Those were wild times for him; for me, not so much. I chose to keep my nose to the books.

    ¡°Good times,¡± he laughed. ¡°I was broke; all I could get my hands on was the cheap stuff, but it didn¡¯t matter. The comedown wasn¡¯t half bad compared to booze.¡±

    ¡°Do you miss it?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t go that far,¡± he said, rubbing his hand on the stubble lining his jaw. ¡°Different time, different place.¡±

    Ether could create a sensation of transcendence when combined with a neurochip implant and immersion in a physical floating chamber. That type of long-term haze was only enjoyed by rich kids with more money than sense and those who liked to break barriers, being on the cutting edge of spirituality. The most common version required nothing more than a neurochip download and an electronic inhaler, which was good enough for a short trip with a bit of a buzzy high.

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t work anymore,¡± he said. ¡°Can¡¯t even get it running long enough to get hit with ads and malware. I¡¯d toss the damn thing if it didn¡¯t mean going under the knife again.¡±

    ¡°Wait, you mean to tell me you¡¯re not eager for a little recreational brain surgery?¡± I teased. ¡°I¡¯m not sure I believe you.¡±

    When the first line of recreational chips hit the market, they transformed what was once a last resort of medical necessity into something the everyman could partake in. The frenzy of consumer demand made them blow up in the market overnight, and demand also led to innovation. The result was a feeding frenzy with many models ageing like milk. This was one of the few instances when the government actually stepped in with new regulations requiring standardization and mandated ongoing maintenance. As it turned out, people couldn¡¯t pay taxes when they were dead, and going under the knife repeatedly was a bad way to keep breathing.

    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    A small family came into the park and settled down for a picnic across the pond. Apparently, neither the poor maintenance nor the brooding cops sitting less than thirty feet away hadn¡¯t deterred them. With our privacy out the window, I made a move to stand, but Gabe put a hand on my shoulder to stop me.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t come here just for me, Lana,¡± he said. ¡°Ethan asked me for a favor, told me to give this to you. He found it while you guys were clearing out your parents¡¯ house. Said he couldn¡¯t find a good time to hand it to you himself.¡±

    Gabe handed me an aged photograph. Apart from a few scratches and a notched corner at the bottom right, it was in pristine condition. I suspected it had been sitting around collecting dust in a small frame or photo album until now. My young, smiling face was front and center. The blanket fort I was laying in was barely big enough to fit me and the army of stuffed animals at my sides.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry we keep making you play the middleman,¡± I said. ¡°What can I say? Communicating openly is just not the Walker way.¡±

    Gabe just grinned and shrugged.

    ¡°Don¡¯t mention it,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s no skin off my back.¡±

    There were quite a few things you could say about our family: we were strong, hardworking, dependable, and more neurotic than we had any right to be. That is, other than Noah, my mother¡¯s little miracle baby who had long since outgrown the title of ¡°little brother.¡± He was the carefree one that took each day as it came, and I could have talked to him about how I felt at any time, but it took our father dying before I finally brought it up. A long list of long-overdue emotion was released in that little diner over half eaten Chinese food and cans of pop.

    ¡°Want me to drop you off?¡± he asked.

    ¡°No,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ll walk. If I don¡¯t move, I¡¯ll go crazy.¡±

    He nodded, and then we each went on our way. When I got home, I emptied out my pockets, tossing my keys on the counter, but when my fingers grazed the edge of the photograph, I stopped to take a closer look. Nudging the notched corner aside revealed a QR code. My Iris pinged on it, and a notification box popped up asking me if I¡¯d like to play the video. A moment of hesitation and a click later, the video was loading with a small spinning icon.

    The video picked up right where the photo left off. It must have been taken immediately after the snapshot. Now, instead of a stationary image, my younger self was in motion. Looking left and right, she held a small finger to her lips and shushed the teddy bears around her.

    ¡°We have to be very quiet because this is a secret message, okay?¡± she whispered before turning back to the camera. ¡°Hi, big me!¡± she cried, waving, having already forgotten all about being quiet.

    ¡°Quess what? Now that it¡¯s summer, it¡¯s real hot, and all the cicadas are singing really loud. Mom says they look weird and keep her up at night, but I like the cicadas. They climb all over you and get into funny places. When I find them, I always say, ¡®Hey! That¡¯s not for bugs!¡¯ and then I take them outside so they can go home.¡±

    Home, huh? Memories of my parents¡¯ house swam through my head. Back before the green floral wallpaper was peeling from the walls. Back before the house gave off the sense of a mausoleum. Back when it felt lively and youthful, full of the sounds of a young family ¨C those were days long past.

    ¡°Mom says bugs don¡¯t have families like we do, but I think everybody has a family. Where do baby bugs come from if there aren¡¯t mom bugs and dad bugs too? Dad says our family is going to get bigger. Mom said someday her belly is going to get really big, and when she¡¯s all done, we¡¯ll have a new baby to bring home!¡±

    This must have been before Noah was born. Back then, it was just the four of us: mom, dad, Ethan, and me. And I was still the youngest back then; it had some perks. I got away with more before I became one of three and was demoted from the baby to the middle child.

    ¡°Dad says we have to protect the baby because we¡¯ll be big kids and the baby will be too little. I told him if anybody was mean, I¡¯d beat them up! And then dad patted me on the head and told me I was a good kid. I was so happy and dancing and singing like ¡®Lah Lah Lah,¡¯ but Ethan told me not to be a baby about it. He thinks he¡¯s so cool because he wants to be old like mom and dad, but that doesn¡¯t mean he gets to tell me what to do.¡±

    Shifting into a sitting position. She crossed her arms in a huff, ending with a pout. Her head bumped against the top of the blanket fort, nearly bringing it down. The blanket was now more supported by her head than the piles of pillows on the sides, but she didn¡¯t seem to mind.

    ¡°When we go to the park, I¡¯m going to catch way more frogs than him, and then he¡¯ll be sorry! Oh, did you know? I¡¯m the best at catching frogs and bugs and climbing trees! Mom says Ethan gets to climb trees because he¡¯s a big kid, and I don¡¯t because I¡¯m still little, but I think it¡¯s because Ethan is a boy and I¡¯m a girl.¡±

    And there it was ¨C the invisible barrier that separated good little boys from good little girls. Even at that age, it was a thorn in my side.

    ¡°Mom says girls have to behave really good and not jump in the creek and stuff, but that¡¯s just because mom is old and boring! Old people don¡¯t know things that kids do. I know that jumping in the creek is fun! And catching frogs is fun! And cicadas are fun! And bugs have families too! See? I know all sorts of things.¡±

    I found myself smiling wistfully. Back then, I was so confident I knew all the things I¡¯d ever need to know, and I was practically on top of the world, knee-deep in optimism for what was yet to come.

    ¡°When I grow up, I¡¯m going to save a lot of people too, just like Dad. Dad told me I could too, but mom said that¡¯s not for girls. Nuh-uh! I¡¯m going to be a really cool detective, and then I¡¯ll show everyone ¨C like all the other kids and Ethan and everyone! And I¡¯ll be so good that they¡¯ll have to like me, and if they all like me¡­ Maybe mom will too.¡±

    The video stopped abruptly as she leaned in to stop the recording, and her forehead blocked out the screen. I missed that youthful confidence I used to have that the world was black and white ¨C good was good and bad was bad, and you could do anything as long as you tried hard enough. I wholeheartedly believed those words back then.

    Over the years, I¡¯d learned quite a bit, and the more I learned about the cruelty and relentlessness of the world, the more I felt the walls close in around me. My tears fell, rolling down my cheeks, and dotting the photograph with dripping lines.

    Slinking down to the floor with my back against the counter, I collapsed into myself, my knees clutched tightly to my chest. When did I forget all those things I used to know? My work may be thankless, but any life I saved was another person who got to keep walking on this tiny speck of dust floating through space, and that was something I couldn¡¯t take for granted. No, I wasn¡¯t going to let that little girl down, the one I used to be, who looked up to me with bright, shining eyes, seeing the best in me and the beauty of the world in the smallest things.

    <hr>

    A painting of Lana and her younger self.

 Chapter 15 - Gabes Good Eats [Extra]

    Volare City was a melting pot overflowing with culture, opulence, and pleasure for those who were fortunate. The divide between the rich and the poor was never more obvious than when you were on your feet looking up at those steel behemoths that dared to pierce the sky. They were endless, infinite even, and you were merely a speck of dust in a sea of people. People flocked here from near and far, chasing dreams and bringing with them their culture. There was a lot you could say was the problem with this city, but a lack of diversity wasn''t one of them. Yang¡¯s Diner, which belonged to my friend Lily, was merely a drop in the bustling culinary scene downtown.

    Ethan, Gabe, and I had been to practically every cheap food joint within five miles of the precinct, but with our newfound free time, we were broadening our horizons. Everyone had gotten some time off, even though I was the only one taking medical leave. Perhaps it was partially an apology, but mostly, they were just covering their own asses. They messed up, and they knew it. Paid leave was the least they could offer us, and in a just world, we would have gotten much more than that. It was a bitter pill to swallow, having to settle for breadcrumbs.

    My Iris pinged. Gabe¡¯s name flashed before my eyes, accompanied by a simple message. ¡®Sandwiches?¡¯ it said. I peeked inside my fridge. There were a few cans of energy drinks and some half-eaten leftovers. I could do better than that. Crinkling my nose, I sent back a ¡®You bet. I¡¯ll meet you there.¡¯ Another ping later, and I had a time and an address. ¡®Got it,¡¯ I sent back, before throwing on my trench coat and heading out the front door.

    My heels rang against the metallic stairs as I made my way down to the car. We were all coping with our newfound free time differently. While I had been finding myself pacing in my apartment more than I wanted to, Ethan had been spending more time with his wife, and Gabe had finally bitten the bullet on his food reviewing journey, and I was proud of him for it. And honestly, I was thankful too. It was a shred of normalcy against the bleak gray sky and the rush of people hustling for their next paycheck.

    Gabe, always a connoisseur of the sort of cheap and quickly prepared foods we always found ourselves eating, found joy in what was so blindingly mundane. Our hectic work schedules often didn¡¯t pair well with a good diet. We ate simple. We ate fast. In fact, the faster, the better. When push came to shove, we grabbed whatever we could on the go, whether that was takeout, cup noodles, or frozen individually packed dinners. You name it, and we¡¯d probably had it before.

    Once I was on the road, the gentle hum of the engine soothed my frazzled nerves. Now that was a simple pleasure I could savor well. I rolled down the window to feel the wind on my face. Broken down to the basics, it was the small things in life that made you feel alive.

    The address Gabe gave me led into a small side street. Down, towards the end, a blinking neon sign read ¡°Ria¡¯s Pizzeria.¡± Cute. The simple brick building gave off the vibes of a nostalgia trap. Once I opened the door, I was met with the smell of pizza cooking in a brick oven. This place made food the old-fashioned way, and the rustic d¨¦cor gave off a feeling of home away from home. It was a simulacrum of a simpler time and place ¨C something no one alive today would have ever experienced. That was a symbol of the resiliency of the people, no matter how downtrodden they will be, they will always find a reason to dream of happier days.

    I brushed past a crush of people standing by the door for a birthday party, no doubt. The children were bouncing on their heels, clad in festive attire. A waitress hurried over to meet me, but I waved her away, pointing towards my company in the back corner. Ethan and Gabe were sitting in a booth. They noticed me quickly. People tended to do that when you stood out as much as me. I¡¯m not sure he could have missed me if he tried, even from halfway across the room.

    ¡°Gabe, if this is what you consider a sandwich, we¡¯re going to have to have a talk,¡± I said, raising my brows.

    ¡°Oooh, the talk. I know that one,¡± Gabe said. ¡°Like the birds and the bees, but with less innuendos and more sandwiches.¡±

    ¡°Exactly,¡± I said, taking a seat. ¡°Ethan, why don¡¯t you tell him?¡±

    ¡°No, I can¡¯t break his dreams like that,¡± Ethan said. ¡°You started this. Finish what you started, Lana. I believe in you.¡±

    The three of us smirked at each other. This was a game we played well, and no one ever wanted to be the first to crack. Regaining my composure, I propped up my arms on the table and leaned over them with an expression of ultimate sincerity.

    ¡°Gabe, I hate to break it to you, but pizza isn¡¯t a sandwich.¡±

    Not one to back down, Gabe geared up for a rebuttal.

    ¡°Nah, pizza is a sandwich; you just gotta fold it in half first. Meat, cheese, and sauce between two layers of bread. Bam! Sandwich. Done.¡±

    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    He leaned back, self-satisfied, propping one arm over the back of his booth seat. Ethan was deep in thought. After a careful moment of contemplation, he looked up and gave his verdict.

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid he has a point, Lana. That is indeed the definition of a sandwich. I can see no flaws in his logic.¡±

    ¡°Are you two ganging up on me? What is this? Boys¡¯ club?¡± I asked. ¡°Gabe, why don¡¯t you just admit you changed your mind? You wavered; it happens to the best of us.¡±

    Gabe crossed his arms, shaking his head slowly.

    ¡°No, no, no. I never waver. Life¡¯s too short for that.¡±

    ¡°I can stand behind that,¡± Ethan said. ¡°In fact, a wise man once said, ¡®If you don''t stand for something, you¡¯ll fall for anything.¡¯¡±

    ¡°Getting philosophical, are we?¡± I scoffed. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s say I accept your premise that pizza is a sandwich and raise you the notion that soup is also a sandwich. How do you plead?¡±

    ¡°Anything is possible with hard work and determination,¡± Ethan said.

    Gabe rubbed his chin thoughtfully before shooting a look my way.

    ¡°If this soup¡¯s got a lid on it. Yeah, a real fancy bowl with a lid on it; now you¡¯ve got stuff on the bottom, stuff in the middle, and stuff on the top. Case closed, baby, that¡¯s a sandwich.¡±

    He slammed his hand on the table triumphantly.

    ¡°I suppose the defining factor would be whether the edibility of the Tupperware impacts its classification as bread,¡± Ethan said. ¡°After all, debating whether or not plastic could be categorized as a type of bread would be unnecessarily complicated.¡±

    Gabe shook his head and leaned back again.

    ¡°Don¡¯t get stuck on technicalities,¡± he said. ¡°That stuff¡¯s for nerds. Big tough guys like us? We don¡¯t need all those thinky parts. Bread? Plastic? It¡¯s all the same to me.¡±

    He shrugged nonchalantly, having me on the run, but I wasn¡¯t going to give up that easily.

    ¡°Earlier you stated that sandwiches need two layers of bread by definition. Are you two trying to tell me that bread is interchangeable with plastic?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Some people would argue that Kraft cheese should be considered plastic, and yet we still eat it by the truck load. It really makes you think, doesn¡¯t it?¡± Ethan said.

    Gabe nodded.

    ¡°You heard the man. If cheese is plastic and cheese is edible, then plastic is also edible. That¡¯s all there is to it. No harm, no foul.¡±

    I knew where they were going with this, and I was prepared to counter his proposition with a careful bit of deflection. Magicians will often use misdirection to divert their audience¡¯s attention, concealing their carefully practiced tricks with a flick of their wrists and a wave of their hands. By employing this tactic, I could use the art of distraction to accept the premise they had presented without ever saying a word of it.

    ¡°Are you two out here telling me that you eat plastic? I¡¯m starting to feel a bit concerned about your digestive tracts.¡±

    It was a magnificent ploy, and they took it hook and sinker. Ethan began laughing, already having moved on.

    ¡°Do you remember the time you took a bite of the foil on a chocolate egg, and I convinced you that you were going to die?¡± he said.

    ¡°I do, and I still haven¡¯t forgiven you for that,¡± I groaned.

    ¡°Admit it, it was a little funny,¡± he laughed.

    ¡°Never,¡± I said, having heard it too many times before. It wasn¡¯t always easy having an older brother.

    Suddenly, the server arrived, interrupting us with a piping hot deep-dish pizza. They must have ordered before I got here. I didn¡¯t mind, they knew what I liked, and there was no point in postponing the order just to have me tell them what they already knew. Despite the wide variety of cuisine available here, in Volare City, deep-dish pizza was what it was known for.

    The melted cheese stretched into strings when we each took a slice. We ate together while smiling, laughing, and catching up on each other¡¯s lives. There wasn¡¯t much to report. Sometimes, no news is good news. Our days had been luckily uneventful since the last time we met up. Gabe took breaks between bites to focus on the screen of his tablet. Finally, he smiled in satisfaction and tucked it back in his pocket.

    ¡°That¡¯s it,¡± he said. ¡°The ¡°Gabe¡¯s Good Eats¡± is live.¡±

    ¡°Are you going to show us or what?¡± I asked, raising a brow.

    ¡°You know it,¡± he said.

    ¡°Send that to me too,¡± Ethan said. ¡°I¡¯ll forward it to Noah. He¡¯ll get a kick out of it.¡±

    ***

    On the way home, I set the page to read aloud. It was a good way to fill the silence of an empty car.

    ¡°Alright, here¡¯s the deal. If you live for pizza, ¡°Ria''s Pizzeria¡± is the place to be. This joint¡¯s got a bit of old-school charm with a bit of something new to keep it spicy. Yeah, it¡¯s got those vibes ¨C real homey, almost cozy enough to kick off your shoes and prop them up on the table.¡±

    I smiled; that was Gabe alright. It had him written all over it.

    ¡°And the pizza? Don¡¯t worry about it. It¡¯ll fill you up real good with a nice deep dish, or maybe a thin crust, if you¡¯re into that sort of thing; I don¡¯t judge. But the deep dish? Damn. The thing¡¯s swimming in sauce and cheese, and not the weak stuff that doesn¡¯t melt quite right either. I¡¯m talking about the good stuff, the stuff that stretches like it¡¯s holding on for dear life when you dive in for a slice. They don¡¯t cut corners here.¡±

    The automated voice wasn¡¯t quite right, but it didn¡¯t matter; I could practically see him narrating it as the words played out.

    ¡°The staff weren¡¯t half bad either, like some old buddies who¡¯ve already seen it all. Yeah, they run a tight shift. Good food. Cheap food. Fast food. What¡¯s not to like? It¡¯s good enough to call it a sandwich. Yeah, fold that sucker in half and inhale it like God intended. You¡¯re gonna need to loosen your belt; I guarantee it.¡±

    The automated voice finished up the text and continued on with the footnotes. Ethan and I both had a seat of honor in the credits under top contributors. This was what it was all about. By the end of the night, I was full and satisfied because I knew two things. The first was that I was in good company. The second was that pizza was a sandwich, end of story.

 Chapter 16 - Arc II: The Woman with Half a Face

    The cold night air sobered me the minute I stepped foot outside. It was a welcome change from the stagnant air in my apartment. Passing up my car, I left the complex on foot. If it were any other night, I would have gone for a drive, but tonight I was in the mood for the late-night air on my face and the sound of my footsteps echoing off the sidewalks. You could call it impulsive, reckless, or foolhardy, but I needed to feel alive.

    Running my hand over the holster on my belt, my fingers traced the familiar shape of my handgun securely tucked inside it. I sighed. The least I could do if I was going to be walking around both injured and alone was to make sure I was armed. I would need to keep my wits about me, even if I wasn¡¯t walking the worst streets in the city. The more experience I got, the more I realized how quickly the most mundane things could slap you in the face and knock you down, groveling for a second chance to get it right.

    I suppose you could say I was restless. Finding myself with more free time than I knew what to do with, I¡¯d resorted to getting creative. Once turned to twice to twice more, and before I knew it, I¡¯d taken to long walks to nowhere, often accompanied by music. There wasn¡¯t anything better than Marla and the Ghost¡¯s haunting voice to clear my head. She was originally trained as an opera singer, and she had the pipes to show for it, but her vocals weren¡¯t going to be accompanying me tonight. Even if I wasn¡¯t stupid enough to cut off my sense of hearing on a nighttime stroll, being visibly distracted would have been the metaphorical equivalent of drawing a target sign on my head.

    My Iris pinged. ¡®You coming?¡¯ it said. ¡®OMW,¡¯ I sent back. I sighed. Ethan always worried too much, and tonight my destination was his house, but my first stop would be the transit station. There were not many people on the streets tonight, and the ones who I passed gave me a large berth, likely having noticed the telltale signs of a law enforcement officer. It suited me just fine; I didn¡¯t need either the company or the attention. Block-by-block, I came up on the transit station. My pass slid smoothly through the reader on the gate, and it beeped its approval as the bar raised up and out of the way.

    In the myths of yore, brave heroes would traverse the world either by foot, ship, or steed. Now we took metal boxes from one geometric structure to the next. The design of public transport had been largely unchanged since the twenty-first century. What could I say? Some things changed; some things stayed the same; just like the crocodiles, they had already peaked and resisted adapting to the times. My foot stuck on a wad of gum as I made my way to a seat. I scrunched my face in disgust. Of course, the rails were sticky too, always a pleasure. I¡¯d have to wait till my destination before I could wash my hands.

    The future was supposed to be bright and gleaming, but from every way I could see it, we were living in a boring dystopia. I could have been out in the heat of danger investigating every knock and corner of the rotten underbelly, but instead, tonight I found myself with clammy sweating palms at the thought of sitting through an ordinary family dinner.

    It was Ella¡¯s treat; normally getting all four of us in the same place at the same time was a tall order, but as of our leave, both me and Ethan had found our schedules disconcertingly empty.

    Part of me wondered if she could hit the correct quota of face-to-face time; she¡¯d slot in neatly between the three of us. It was a nice thought, and she was a good woman, but her and I had never had much in common.

    I was a leading detective in the Special Crimes Unit, and she was a university professor. My job was dirty and dangerous, and her job kept her clean and safe inside the world of academia. Noah, being a forensic technician, had more common ground with her on that front than me. No, that was just an excuse, and I knew it. Whatever it was, we had never managed to cross the guff between us, and it¡¯d likely stay that way for the time being.

    After the train came to my stop, it wasn¡¯t long before I was walking down the cozy little suburban neighborhood. His perfectly picturesque house was illuminated by a light centered above his front door. His house was the model of the American dream ¨C the modern equivalent of what people used to refer to as a house with a white picket fence. All he was missing was the two kids to complete his nuclear family, but that would come in time. Ethan always knew he wanted to be a father; for me, it was more complicated. I suppose you could say that I was keeping my options open.

    Three steps up and halfway through knocking, Ella caught me off guard, snapping the door open before I even got the chance to knock. Awkwardly, I tucked my hand back inside my pocket.

    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    ¡°I saw you coming from the window,¡± she said, gesturing to the side.

    ¡°Didn¡¯t know I was a guest of honor tonight,¡± I said, feigning nonchalance.

    ¡°Oh, you know, we¡¯re all family,¡± she said, looking up expectantly at me.

    I didn¡¯t know what to say, but fortunately, she rushed to fill the silence.

    ¡°You¡¯re always welcome here,¡± she continued, moving to close the door behind me.

    His house looked just as I remembered it, both orderly and minimalistic. He was always insistent on avoiding clutter, something both of us had in common. The main points of d¨¦cor were a simple painting of pink orchids on the wall and a vase of daisies centered on top of their white cloth-covered dining room table. Last time, it was a vase of bright red roses, and I almost pricked myself on the thorns.

    Almost as if Noah had a sixth sense for good food going to waste, he showed up right as we finished setting the table. He shuffled to the table, slightly breathless. It was a staple of our family gatherings that Noah always arrived fashionably late. Like I said, some things change, but some things stay the same.

    ¡°If you ever showed up on time, I¡¯m not sure what we¡¯d do, Noah,¡± I teased.

    ¡°I think we¡¯d have to check the weather forecast and make sure it wasn¡¯t a sign of the end times,¡± Ethan chimed in.

    ¡°Aw, come on,¡± Noah said. ¡°The food¡¯s not even cold yet, so I¡¯m right on time.¡±

    We rolled our eyes.

    ¡°That¡¯s one way to put it,¡± Ethan said, chuckling. ¡°Can you pass the butter?¡±

    With our usual ribbing out of the way, the four of us eventually settled into a steady rhythm.

    ¡°Noah, you¡¯re still in college, aren¡¯t you? How are your classes?¡± Ella asked, putting her hands into her lap.

    ¡°Oh, that?¡± Noah said, setting down his fork to answer. ¡°You know, it¡¯s alright. I¡¯m just finishing up my last year of uni. Trying to make the most of it, you know?¡±

    ¡°If Ella was your professor, she¡¯d tell me about all the times you ditched class,¡± Ethan joked.

    Noah choked, smacking his chest with his fist before he caught his breath.

    ¡°No, don¡¯t do that to me,¡± he said. ¡°I don¡¯t even want to think about it.¡±

    They laughed together, but I just smiled softly. It was almost as if none of it had ever happened ¨C as if Noah had never been captured and as if I had never lost my arm. The mechanical replacement was less alien to me now, but my shoulder was still sore and sensitive. With every passing day, my new fingers felt more like my own. How long would it be before they felt indistinguishable from my organic limbs?

    Ordinary days felt like a dream, and the problem with dreams was that they didn¡¯t last. How could I lock it all away, press it further down than I¡¯d ever reach, and throw away the key? Clenching my jaw, I got to the elephant in the room.

    ¡°Noah¡­¡± I said, placing my hand on top of his shoulder. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    He jolted slightly at the sudden change in the atmosphere of the room.

    ¡°For what?¡± he asked.

    ¡°For your last year getting overshadowed by that mess we got ourselves caught in.¡±

    He crossed his arms across his chest.

    ¡°Can¡¯t you just let it go?¡± he asked.

    I suppose even Noah hadn¡¯t been completely spared by the Walker family curse to carry all our deepest pains inside, afraid to take them head on.

    ¡°You know we can¡¯t,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯d just be kicking the can down the road, and then someday you¡¯d wake up in your mid-thirties and realize you wasted your whole life taking on the world on your own.¡±

    Now, everyone was looking at me with shock and concern in their eyes. I grimaced, but I knew I deserved it after that revelation I had just thrown on them. They knew I was talking about myself. I knew it too.

    ¡°I can¡¯t pretend everything is normal anymore,¡± I said, tensing my body with everything it took not to make a move for the door.

    Noah dropped his head, showing his true feelings for the first time tonight. I¡¯d been waiting for this ever since we recovered him from the scene of the crime, and I¡¯d been breaking out in a cold sweat every time I made it to our new routine family dinners, thinking of how tonight could be when I finally confront our collective trauma instead of smiling through another happy meal.

    ¡°I know what you¡¯re going to say,¡± Noah said, tensing up. ¡°But I¡¯m alright. It¡¯s fine.¡±

    He forced a smile and continued talking without looking at me.

    ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have gone with her, but she was the first girl that looked at me like that, like I was the greatest thing she¡¯d ever seen¡­ And she wanted to show me something, said it¡¯d be a surprise, and slipped me an address, made me promise not to look it up¡­ I don¡¯t know, there¡¯s not that much to say¡­ I don¡¯t remember a lot.¡±

    ¡°No one¡¯s blaming you,¡± I said. ¡°We just want you to be safe.¡±

    ¡°Safe?¡± he said. ¡°What about you?¡±

    ¡°Is there something you aren¡¯t telling me?¡± Ethan asked.

    Oh, how the tables turn. I should have known this was when the cat would come out of the bag. Noah always showed up after me, and he must have noticed by now that I didn¡¯t always bring my car. I stood to take my coat.

    ¡°Looks like I¡¯ll be heading out,¡± I said.

    ¡°Already?¡± Ella asked, looking hurt. I hated to do that to her, but I was starting to feel like I¡¯d rather be anywhere else.

    ¡°Another time,¡± I said, pulling my arms through the sleeves of my trench coat.

    Noah stood suddenly and held out his arm to stop me.

    ¡°Wait!¡± he said. ¡°Actually, there is something else I need to talk to you guys about...¡±

 Chapter 17 - Arc II: The Woman with Half a Face

    Noah never asked us for something like that; he often asked us in that cheerful way that made it difficult to hold against him whenever it turned out to be a pain in the ass. The two of us stopped in our tracks and turned to face him. I took a look at Ethan, wondering if he knew what was up, but he looked as clueless as me. Finally, Ethan sighed with the resignation of knowing that we were going to be in for a long night.

    ¡°Do you need a ride, Noah?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Yeah, if you don¡¯t mind, I¡¯d appreciate it,¡± Noah said, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

    ¡°We can talk in the car,¡± he said.

    Then Ethan turned to look at me, raising his eyebrows wearily.

    ¡°We also have something to talk about, don¡¯t we?¡± he asked.

    I met Ethan¡¯s weary gaze and tugged the corners of my lips into something resembling a smile.

    ¡°I suppose we do,¡± I said.

    When we stepped outside, the soft mist made the world look blurry. The streetlights¡¯ harsh artificial lights bounced off the moisture in the air and left diffuse glowing halos in their wake. Ethan took a cursory look around and sighed before heading towards his driveway. I hesitated for a moment before falling into step behind him.

    Our footsteps felt like an intrusion on the otherwise idyllic street. The silence seemed too beautiful and untouched to disturb. Maybe in some ways, I thrived in dysfunction. After all, chaos was both loud and hard to break, and I didn¡¯t have to hear the thoughts in my head when the world was screaming in my ears. I took the passenger seat, although part of me wanted to sit in the backseat and avoid further scrutiny.

    ¡°So, Noah, you had something to ask us?¡± I asked, eager to move on.

    Through the space cleared by my hand on the glass, the city looked soft and foggy. It was grey on grey on grey, with the occasional hint of color breaking up the monotony with the scattered garbage and advertisements lining the city ¨C a hint of life in a place teeming with people. I wondered where they all went when the city looked this empty and barren.

    ¡°You know how I¡¯ve been volunteering at a food pantry, right? That place downtown?¡±

    ¡°Uh-huh,¡± I said. ¡°What about it, Noah?¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ I have a feeling about a girl that goes there,¡± he said, fidgeting with his zipper.

    ¡°I swear to God, Noah, if you¡¯re chasing another girl-¡° I said.

    ¡°And I know what you¡¯re going to say, but it¡¯s not like that!¡± Noah interjected. ¡°She¡¯s just a kid, maybe thirteen? Her whole family is kinda nuts¡­ I can¡¯t help it; I just feel bad for her.¡±

    ¡°Slow down, Noah,¡± I said. ¡°You didn¡¯t even tell us what the problem is yet.¡±

    ¡°Well,¡± he said. ¡°I think she¡¯s in trouble. Last time I was there, she wasn¡¯t with her family, and when I asked her dad about it¡­ Well, you should have seen the way he looked at me. I thought he was going to kill me or something.¡±

    We all dealt with our grief in our own way. Survivor¡¯s guilt wasn¡¯t something easy to shake off and walk away from. Noah, who was normally upbeat and carefree, still smiled the way he always did, but there was a weight behind it now. Fake it till you make it, or so they say.

    ¡°You want us to look into it?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± he said hesitantly. ¡°If you could¡­¡±

    Some people drowned out their pain with liquor, drugs, or the rush of adrenaline from either love or danger. Others sought to drown out the dark with the light, dedicating themselves to giving to those that were without. Being significantly less self-destructive than me, Noah had taken to volunteering at a small Catholic food pantry downtown. He said it was a way to make sense of it all. After all, those who suffer or fall were not chosen by the hand of God, but sometimes it was a nice thought ¨C that there was a big man up there looking out for us.

    ¡°Her name is Cassie,¡± he continued. ¡°I was pretty shaken up about it, you know, nearly getting my ass handed to me like that, and then one of the other ladies who volunteers with me came up and told me to leave it alone. She said that a lot of families from their sect, some Amish thing, don¡¯t like others sticking their nose in their business.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not much to go off of, Noah.¡± I observed. ¡°Anything else that stands out to you or makes you suspect foul play?¡±

    ¡°He was nursing his side like he was hurt or something, and the rest of the family looked pretty spooked. When they passed me, her sister turned around like she wanted to say something, but then she just kept walking. And¡­ And I was hoping someone could look into it. Call it a hunch, but I feel like something¡¯s wrong.¡±

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    Ethan and I hummed simultaneously. ¡°Someone,¡± of course, would be us. Cases like these ¨C domestic cases from families that didn¡¯t want help ¨C always got swept under the rug. We were understaffed and overworked as it was, and there was always somebody louder begging us for our time.

    ¡°Full name? Address?¡± I asked.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Noah admitted.

    ¡°It¡¯s not a lot to go on,¡± I muttered.

    I caught Noah in the rearview mirror looking down at his feet.

    ¡°Hold on, we didn¡¯t say we wouldn¡¯t do it.¡±

    Noah perked up when he heard me say that, and I shot him a wry smile.

    "I¡¯m not sure it¡¯s a good idea, Noah," I said. ¡°But you know me, I love bad ideas.¡±

    Ethan scrunched his brows together and sighed.

    ¡°You sure you¡¯re up for it?¡± he asked. ¡°You know what this means, don¡¯t you? You¡¯re going to have to go back to the grind.¡±

    It was a question, but I could read between the lines. He didn¡¯t want me back on the force yet. My shoulder was doing good enough for me to ditch the sling, but it wasn¡¯t quite ready to take a beating yet. And, more importantly, neither was my psyche. If it came down to it and push came to shove, I could become a liability, but I¡¯d be damned if I had to sit around twiddling my thumbs any longer.

    ¡°Come on, Ethan,¡± I said. ¡°You know me. Besides, I¡¯m sick of everyone tiptoeing around me. Let me get back to doing what I¡¯m good at.¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t even know the situation yet,¡± Ethan sighed. "For all we know, she could be fine.¡±

    I could see the gears turning in Noah¡¯s head.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think she has anyone,¡± he added. ¡°She always comes in with this huge group from her sect, right? But she¡¯s never talking to any of them; she just stands by herself and lags behind the rest of them in this really sad fucking way.¡±

    ¡°A weird loner, huh?¡± I asked. ¡°Don¡¯t we know someone like that?¡±

    Some people could have said I fit that description; back in my school days, I never quite fit in. You could argue I didn¡¯t quite fit in these days either, but I wore it better, like a badge of honor instead of as a chip on my shoulder. I smiled bitterly at Ethan, and he scoffed at me.

    ¡°I couldn¡¯t stop you if I tried; could I?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Nope,¡± I said.

    He sighed, but didn¡¯t object further.

    ¡°We¡¯ll look into it, Noah, but don¡¯t expect too much. Unless there¡¯s foul play, we¡¯ll have to let it go. The bar for intervention in domestic cases is, unfortunately, rather high.¡±

    Just then, we rolled up to Noah¡¯s dormitory. It was an entirely ordinary building. Noah hadn¡¯t had the grades to get into one of the best universities, but it didn¡¯t matter. I didn¡¯t have the bravado of my youth anymore when I was convinced that there was only one correct path in life. Time and experience had forced me to reevaluate my convictions over the years.

    Noah stepped out and waved to us before quickly disappearing through the front doors. As we began to pull away, Ethan looked over at me, and I knew it was my turn.

    ¡°Are you alright?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Just peachy,¡± I replied sarcastically.

    He turned back to the road, guiding the car back onto the quiet street. There was a heaviness in the air between us, and it was starting to drive me crazy.

    ¡°If you have something to say, just say it,¡± I spat.

    ¡°You already know what I¡¯m going to say,¡± he said.

    He wasn¡¯t wrong. It was the same argument we¡¯d been having for a long time. No matter how much we talked about it, the problem remained unchanged. In fact, I had a feeling that it might have been getting worse with every passing year. This year in particular had been a real dozy, and I was spiraling.

    ¡°Why do you do this to yourself?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Why does anyone do anything?¡± I replied. ¡°Just trying to soothe my aching, battered soul. Tale as old as time. Don¡¯t tell me you don¡¯t understand.¡±

    The light turned red, and our car came to a stop.

    ¡°I won¡¯t,¡± Ethan sighed.

    ¡°We¡¯re both driven to self-destruction,¡± I said. ¡°Only difference is that I lean into it more than you do.¡±

    We drove on for a few more streets with nothing but the crunch of the tires and the hum of the engine to fill the silence. Occasionally, someone down on their luck stuck out to me from the side of the road, and I wondered what the difference between us was. It ate at me how little it would take for someone to lose it all.

    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± I said, punctuating the silence.

    ¡°Are you?¡± he asked pointedly.

    Ethan made a complicated expression and swallowed hard.

    ¡°You call Gabe, but you don¡¯t call me. You don¡¯t call Noah. Half the time you show up for dinner, you look like you don¡¯t want to be there.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t want to impose,¡± I said, looking out the window. I traced shapes into the condensation on the window.

    ¡°Don¡¯t want to impose?¡± he asked with a hint of irritation. ¡°We¡¯re going to worry about you either way. You know that, don¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°Well,¡± I said. ¡°Maybe you shouldn¡¯t.¡±

    He tensed and opened his mouth several times to speak, but eventually he gave up. I must have finally broken him. The minutes seemed to stretch on and on like a hall of mirrors that wouldn¡¯t ever end. When I saw my apartment complex through the fog, I breathed a sigh of relief.

    "Thanks for the ride," I huffed, and took a step to the curb.

    Ethan¡¯s gaze flicked over to me.

    "Don¡¯t be scared to ask for help, Lana. We¡¯re always here for you," he said.

    I met his gaze with a bittersweet irony on my lips.

    "You first, Ethan. Always happy to lend a hand," I quipped.

    For a moment, we just looked at each other, basking in the aftertaste of an offer neither of us would take. There was a chasm between us deep enough to drown in. Perhaps if it wasn¡¯t for the way the world kept testing us, we would have said more to each other. Maybe, in another world, we would have picked up right where we left off from my hospital room; it was the last time I saw him cry.

    Then I turned and walked away; from behind me, I heard Ethan pulling away, back onto those desolate streets.

    I closed my eyes, squeezing them shut with a ghost of regret. After all, I was always haunted by all the words I refused to say.

 Chapter 18 - Arc II: The Woman with Half a Face

    New day; new case. We were standing in the Lieutenant¡¯s office opposite her desk. In my mind¡¯s eye, I saw the last time I stood here pleading my case, begging to come back to work. My father was freshly underground, barely having been laid to rest, and I was a mess; that part still hadn¡¯t changed. With everything that had gone down with the Neo Luminaries, I was still coming apart at the seams, but I wasn¡¯t about to back down without a fight.

    Lieutenant Blackwood wore that same unreadable expression she always did, scrutinizing us from behind her wireframe glasses. D¨¦j¨¤ vu. I had a knack for getting myself worked up. And what could I say? I just couldn¡¯t stand sitting still. It was simultaneously both my best and worst quality.

    However, there was one saving grace to having to do this song and dance another time, this time the three of us were a united front. We ran her through the finer details, our personal connection, and how I belonged back on the streets protecting this city. While I spoke, I felt a fire burn within me. It wasn¡¯t an explosive flame. No, it was the kind that smoldered, the kind that looked snuffed out until you poked and prodded it, it was the kind that stubbornly spat out fresh embers two seconds from lights out, almost to spite you, refusing to die.

    Finally, she unclasped her hands and adjusted her glasses to peer at us from over them.

    ¡°I would tell you that this case is beneath you, troubled youth are a dime a dozen, and that your efforts are both misguided and inefficient. I could also add that it is a waste of both our resources and your talents, but I see your mind has already been made,¡± she said, adjusting her glasses and reclasping her hands together on top of her desk. ¡°That¡¯s quite enough. I see no reason to delay this any further. Do what you must and report back to me when you¡¯re satisfied. You are free to go.¡±

    Simple. Fast. Efficient. That was the way she liked it, and it was a sentiment we shared as well. We smiled in satisfaction as we turned to leave. The door slammed shut with a click of the latch.

    ¡°That was easy,¡± I mused. ¡°Maybe I should lose an arm more often.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± Ethan groaned, with a hint of warning in his voice. ¡°Don¡¯t even joke about that.¡±

    I shrugged, my smirk still on my face while my heart twinged inside my chest. Gabe tried to wipe the smile from his face too. He meant well; he was just happy to see me starting to act like my old self again. That made two of us. I was starting to feel alive again. Silently, I prayed that was a trend that would last.

    ¡°So, what¡¯s the first order of business?¡± I asked, turning to Ethan.

    ¡°You¡¯re asking me?¡± he sighed. ¡°I thought this case was your baby.¡±

    Touche, I earned that one, but I had a bad habit of making a joke out of my life and it was a bad habit I wasn¡¯t willing to give up, at least not yet.

    ¡°Point taken,¡± I said and addressed Gabe next instead. ¡°What are you thinking, Gabe?¡±

    ¡°How about that food pantry your brother volunteers at?¡± he said. ¡°Bet the place¡¯s got some people happy to help.¡±

    Noah wanted us to look into a girl whose last name he didn¡¯t even know. The food pantry was our only real lead. Ethan looked down at his wrist, noting the time.

    ¡°We¡¯re ahead of schedule,¡± he said. ¡°While you two take care of that, I¡¯ll head back to the lab and see what I can find out on my end.¡±

    ¡°Sounds good,¡± I said and strolled down the hall as fast as could reasonably be considered walking. Once we were both down and seated in our cruiser, the scent of stale leather and burnt coffee greeted me again like old friends. Some things change, some things stay the same. I smiled with the small comfort of returning to where I belonged with a bit of familiarity. Once we were back on the streets, we were fighting the demons the good people kept in their closets.

    Our Irises lit up with a notification from Ethan.

    ¡°Looks like Ethan got the name and address for us,¡± I said.

    Our destination took us from well-maintained roads and straight into the cracked and pothole ridden streets that belonged to the most struggling members of our society. It was a wonder how our suspension survived it, but I wasn¡¯t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. I was nearly nauseous by the time we rolled up to the front of the food pantry. The sign that hung over the entrance read, ¡°Mother Teresa¡¯s Food Pantry.¡± Walking through the door reminded me of the words transcribed on the Statue of Liberty, ¡®Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.¡¯

    The interior was modest and clean, excluding the wear on the floor where the linoleum had been rubbed away by years of the same footpath being taken again and again. It snaked around the room along the fronts of shelves filled with food.

    Towards the back, three elderly women were working hard at work stocking shelves and helping customers. They had just finished helping a young family when we made our way to the back and flashed our badges.

    ¡°Not to trouble you ladies, but we¡¯ve got a few questions to ask,¡± Gabe said.

    They chuckled at him.

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    ¡°And what can we do for you young man?¡± the first woman asked, adjusting her spectacles.

    ¡°Did you hear that?¡± Gabe smirked, nudging my side with his elbow. ¡°I¡¯m a young man.¡±

    ¡°Good for you Gabe,¡± I said. ¡°Why don¡¯t you handle those three while I look for the priest? Catch up with me when you can.¡±

    ¡°Father Lewis should be in the parish,¡± the second woman said as I walked past her.

    The double doors in the back of the hallway swung open as I pressed through them. Now back outside, I was greeted by the faint scent of exhaust in the wind and the noise of the busy city. The church looked quaint and out of place among the otherwise modern architecture. After making my way through another set of double doors, I found myself inside of a Catholic church for the first time since my youth. The light filtered through the stained-glass windows and cast colorful patterns on the floor; it was just the way I remembered it, down to the unshakable silence of the insulated walls. The only sound was the clicking of my heels against the stone floor, and I grimaced with every step that seemed strangely intrusive in the house of God.

    Facing the altar, a man with grey streaked hair had his head lowered in prayer, his cassock pooled around his form. His eyes were closed, but my footsteps roused him, and he turned to meet me. The first thing I noticed were his eyes; they were the eyes of a man who had seen too much. I knew those eyes because I had them too. Those who have been through hell and back always recognized their kin. He was a man providing sanctuary for the broken, the weak, and the damned, and I was the last line of defense against a rotten city falling apart at the seams; we were both trying to save the lost souls in our own way.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry to disturb you Father, but I¡¯m here about Cassie,¡± I said, flashing him my badge.

    At the mention of her name, he furrowed his brows and looked downward in introspection. ¡°So, then it has come to this,¡± he said, taking a deep breath to center himself. ¡°Cassandra Weddell¡­ yes. I¡¯m familiar with her. Her family is one of the families assisted through our food pantry.¡±

    Now that made me pause, the way I saw his body tense told me more than what he had said. Although, it was good to have a name to put to her face. Our mystery girl, Cassie, was now Cassandra Weddel; that was something we could plug into the database. Ethan would be pleased.

    ¡°Has something happened to her?¡± he asked.

    ¡°We don¡¯t know yet, but we¡¯re looking into it. At the moment, we are investigating it on an anonymous tip,¡± I said. ¡°What can you tell me about her?¡±

    ¡°Ah, of course,¡± he said.

    It was practiced ¨C the way his pain flashed and faded on his face almost instantaneously. That was the demeanor of a man who had been trained to hide his emotions at all costs. I saw it often in criminals, but even with the upstanding members of society, there were many who showed the same pattern. After all, there were also secrets innocuously hidden behind white picket fences and carefully curated images: broken people playing happy, smiling families. For me, it had become second nature to shove away my feelings both so deeply and so efficiently that I didn¡¯t even notice.

    Father Lewis sighed, lowering his gaze once more. ¡°There are many people who come to us for assistance; and we do not turn them away anyone in need of help. Due to our proximity, a lot of families we serve come from the Elect of Abstantia. Cassandra is a member as well.¡±

    ¡°And is that relevant?¡± I asked, scrutinizing his admission, reading between the lines.

    ¡°I believe that is your realm of expertise, Detective, not mine,¡± he said with the composure expected of a man of the cloth. ¡°I am not as familiar with them as you might think. They are very private people.¡±

    With a wave of my hand, I pulled up some data on The Elect of Abstinentia. They were a small, impoverished sect that kept to itself, turning away from all the progress that humanity had made in the last several hundred years. Some people considered them strange or undesirable, others admired the strength it took to reject society, settling on living quietly in their own communes as everyone else did circles around them. These days, some of them begrudgingly allowed their children to attend public school. Traditionally, all the children were homeschooled, but times were tough and the space for people who refused to learn to navigate modern technology shrank with every passing day.

    ¡°Can you tell me the last time you saw her?¡±

    ¡°I believe it was a few weeks ago,¡± he said.

    ¡°Was there anything different about her? Did she seem distressed?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± he said, taken aback. "She was in a good mood. I thought things might have been turning around for her."

    She was happy¡ªthat was either a very good sign or a very bad one. On one hand, it could mean that Noah overreacted and the girl was fine; no harm, no foul, and we''d get ourselves a new case. On the other hand, it could mean she stumbled into something new and exciting, and new and exciting could mean trouble. Perhaps a predator promised to save her from her miserable home life. Whisk her away to something better. There was also the ironic twist of fate that individuals who contemplated taking their own lives tended to be in higher spirits shortly before ending it all.

    ¡°Can you tell me anything else, Father?¡± I asked. ¡°Friends? Connections? Anyone that she might have gone to for help or recreation?¡±

    Father Lewis shook his head.

    ¡°She hardly ever spoke. Despite how much time I spent with her, there was not much I knew of her life outside of her visits to our food pantry.¡±

    Behind me, the heavy doors to the church creaked open. I didn¡¯t need to turn around to know it was Gabe. If you knew someone long enough, you would eventually memorize even the sound of their steps; it was in their gait, the way they walked. Ethan, Gabe, and Noah¡ªif they approached me, I''d know it was them before even looking up.

    ¡°Glad you could join us, Gabe,¡± I said. ¡°Don''t worry, he¡¯s with me. Allow me to introduce you to my partner, Detective Gabriel Grant.¡±

    He came to stand beside me and flashed his badge. After a quick nod, we were back to business.

    ¡°Can you think of anything else that might be noteworthy?¡± I asked.

    There was a short pause as he soaked in our words, closing his eyes in quiet contemplation.

    ¡°She was a troubled child,¡± he said. ¡°There were times she would come sit with me while her family was busy, and I would keep her company, but our conversations were often one-sided... Perhaps the others at the parish could be of more help to you.¡±

    Gabe gave me a knowing look. It seemed like he had more luck than me with the women from the food pantry. I wasn''t surprised; no one loved to gossip more than pensioners.

    As we turned to leave, Father Lewis called out.

    ¡°Detectives,¡± he said. ¡°I''ll pray for her. May God keep her safe, and you two as well.¡±

    I glanced back over my shoulder.

    ¡°Of course, you¡¯ll hear from us if we find anything."

    Once we were down the nave and the doors had swung shut behind us, we were shoved back into the chaos of modern life, far away from the sanctuary of the church¡¯s interior.

    ¡°We need to get to her before someone else does,¡± I muttered. ¡°If someone else hasn¡¯t already. What did you find out?¡±

    ¡°Might''ve gotten us a lead,¡± he said. ¡°Ladies their age love to talk.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I bet,¡± I said. ¡°Tell me all about it.¡±

 Chapter 19 - Arc II: The Woman with Half a Face

    I felt like I was dusting off old tomes in the back of my head. How many years had it been since I stepped foot inside a place like that? I could still see it in my mind¡¯s eye ¨C the large wooden doors, the familiar stone floor, and the rows of pews illuminated by colored light streaming down from the stained-glass windows. I shook the thoughts from my mind; sometimes it was better to let sleeping dogs lie ¨C bad dog, don''t pass go, don''t collect 200.

    ¡°Gabe,¡± I said. ¡°What did those chatty ladies tell you?¡±

    ¡°One of them said she always wore long sleeves. Summer, winter, spring ¨C didn¡¯t matter. Always covered up,¡± he said. ¡°Know what that smells like?¡±

    I knew exactly what he meant; it was a red flag for hiding marks outsiders weren¡¯t meant to see ¨C bruises, cuts, whatever could raise some eyebrows.

    ¡°And the family?¡±

    ¡°Big man did all the talking. Tense, controlling, never stayed long. Looked like they were walking on eggshells all the time. Saw enough to raise some eyebrows, not enough to do much else. Already got Ethan caught up.¡±

    The line on our Irises clicked went live with Ethan on the other side.

    ¡°Hey, missed me?¡± he asked rhetorically.

    ¡°What do you have for us, Ethan?¡±

    ¡°Well, I went through the girl¡¯s profile. There were a few calls for domestic disturbances, but the best I got was a half-finished note about the father being drunk and disorderly. Looks like after that they were written off as a lost cause. Their address is tagged as do not respond.¡±

    ¡°I love it when people take their job seriously,¡± I muttered under my breath.

    Gabe huffed in agreement. There we went again; this was the system hard at work protecting the weak and vulnerable. No follow-ups. No real investigation. Too busy taking the easy way out and cracking down on cases that might line their pockets.

    ¡°Start with the family,¡± Ethan said. ¡°The father might give you a hard time, though; watch yourself.¡±

    ¡°Ethan, I might be down an arm, but Gabe¡¯s got two perfectly good ones to make up for it,¡± I smirked. ¡°We¡¯ll be fine.¡±

    Gabe chimed in with a rough laugh. He knew we could handle a disordered drunk between the two of us even with a hand tied behind our backs if it came down to it. Ethan was playing the overprotective elder brother schtick to a tee.

    After that, the line went dead, and Gabe guided the car down a narrow side street, past elevated holographic billboards with seductive, smiling women, selling balms for weary souls. If only three easy payments of a currency of your choice were all it took. No, it¡¯d take more than that to fill the aching void the common man drowned in liquor and women. Finally, we passed by the sign welcoming us to our lovely little destination ¨C Silver Reach, another district that the city forgot. The potholes lining the streets brought me back to Haven Heights, where we found Nathan Ming¡¯s apartment, but there was no time for such idle thoughts.

    Past the dilapidated buildings and boarded-up businesses, the sect¡¯s enclave came into view. It was a breath of fresh air in a way. The cookie cutter straight rows of plain white structures were a blast to the past. Simple, modest buildings like this were bulldozed and replaced in many other parts of the city in pursuit of advancement and aesthetics. It felt like stepping foot in a fossil. I had the sneaking suspicion outsiders weren¡¯t seen too kindly around here.

    There was a man working the yard when we pulled up. He matched the description of Cassie¡¯s father ¨C an older man, a bit rough around the edges. He was struggling with an old tree stump. Sweat beaded on his brow as he was bent over and trying to tear the damn thing from the ground. It didn¡¯t look anything like bedrest, which he likely needed with the way he was clutching his side. We flashed our badges and introduced ourselves.

    ¡°We¡¯re here about your daughter,¡± I said. ¡°Mind answering a few questions for us?¡±

    He barely glanced at us before turning back to his work.

    ¡°Need a hand with that?¡± I asked, inspecting his handiwork.

    ¡°I don¡¯t need help from a woman to do a man¡¯s job,¡± he spat.

    I gave Gabe a look, and he returned it. We knew his type, bristling at a woman with a badge trying to tell him what to do. Yeah, it was all testosterone and bravado, and I was well past sick of it.

    ¡°This one¡¯s all yours, Gabe,¡± I said and patted his shoulder.

    He didn¡¯t waste a moment stepping up to bat; teamwork makes the dream work.

    ¡°Just need a minute,¡± he said. ¡°Then we¡¯ll be out of your hair, and you can get back to tearing that thing outta the ground. How ¡®bout it?¡±

    Gabe gave him his signature laid-back grin, but the man¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change. It barely earned a pause before he stiffened up and groaned. Tough crowd.

    ¡°She¡¯s not here.¡±

    ¡°Think you could give us a call when she gets back?¡± Gabe asked. ¡°Just wanna ask her a few questions.¡±

    ¡°The hell is this? Are you accusing me of something?¡± he growled.

    ¡°Nah,¡± Gabe said. ¡°Just wanna talk a bit, not trying to rile you up or nothing. Take it easy.¡±

    While Gabe was keeping him busy, I took the time to observe him, particularly the way he grimaced and held his side. He must have been quite a stubborn man trying to do heavy labor while wincing like that. Just my luck, my sweeping gaze caught his eye. He puffed up his chest like an animal ready to throw down.

    ¡°This is our family. You¡¯ve got no right to be here, meddling in our business, wasting our fucking time,¡± he growled, looking right at me.

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    Then he looked at Gabe.

    ¡°You let this bitch tell you what to do?¡±

    ¡°We''re just trying to figure out what¡¯s going on,¡± I said.

    As much as I would have liked to wipe that stupid expression off his face, this was going to go much smoother without an unnecessary scuffle.

    ¡°The hell do you know,¡± the man growled. ¡°You think you¡¯re fucking better than me, don¡¯t you? Just cause of that shiny little badge you shoved in my face. Let me tell you something: this is our business. Our family.¡±

    ¡°Hey, buddy,¡± Gabe said, putting a firm hand on his shoulder. ¡°Take it down a notch. Why don¡¯t you show my partner some respect before we have to take you down to the station, write you up, waste both our time? You get me?¡±

    It was a question as much as it was a threat, and for a minute, the three of us stood in a standstill, sizing each other up. My hand slipped down to my belt with my hands on my cuffs, but with a sudden change of heart, he chose instead to spit on the ground and shuffle towards his front door. The door slammed shut behind him, leaving behind just his muffled swearing hanging in the air. Thin walls.

    ¡°That guy was a pain in the ass,¡± Gabe huffed, stuffing his hands in his pockets. ¡°Did you get a good look at the way he was holding himself?¡± He gestured to the door with a jerk of his head. ¡°Noah wasn¡¯t kidding about him nursing something. The guy looked a good stiff breeze from falling over.¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± I said, kicking the tree stump still lodged in the ground. ¡°He¡¯s proud, won¡¯t show weakness easily.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s get outta here,¡± he said. ¡°Ethan got me the address to the girl¡¯s school. We¡¯re not gonna get anything else out of the guy anyway.¡±

    I nodded in agreement, following him back to the cruiser, but something about that man stuck to me. His face¡ªI¡¯d seen that expression before. Not quite the same, but not quite different either. You grow up, you¡¯re a big girl now¡ªbig girl pants, big girl gun¡ªand yet parental disapproval could still make you quake in your boots like you¡¯re two feet tall and you¡¯ve just made a mess of things yet again.

    My parents, they meant well, sure. But sometimes I wondered if something from their past still haunted them, something that made them push us like we weren¡¯t worth anything if we weren¡¯t the very best. Well, it was a phase, a passing fancy. My father lived long enough to grow out of it, but my mother ¨C even in her final years as the disease ground her down¡ªstill wanted us flawless, and I never shook that. So here I was, a real big girl with little girl thoughts. No, it didn¡¯t suit me; I had work to do.

    ***

    The school was a sight for sore eyes; much like the rest of Silver Reach, it was a place that had seen better days¡ªcracked concrete, rusted metal, and fading paint greeted us as we pulled up. A chain link fence ran along the perimeter, giving off some lovely penitentiary vibes ¨C every kid¡¯s dream.

    Memories tugged at the edges of my mind, crying out for my attention. It was always something I struggled with ¨C darkly intrusive thoughts always clung to me like needy lovers, but they had only gotten worse since my father was laid to rest and I involuntarily traded out my arm for this synthetic counterpart.

    ¡°Focus on the case,¡± I reminded myself.

    Gabe quirked a brow at me, understanding that my words weren¡¯t for him. I was grateful for that, his intuition; it had saved my skin more than a few times already, and in moments like this, it was my safety blanket. A few kids were milling about the front entrance as we made our way into the courtyard. I could feel their eyes skimming over our uniforms, lingering on the patches that adorned our shoulders, the trusty ocular logos that made us what we were.

    ¡°Cops,¡± they whispered to each other.

    The kids scattered like bugs, skittering off to loiter elsewhere. That was, except for one girl, who held our gaze just a moment longer than the rest before disappearing inside. The interior of the school was lined with a litany of school spirit posters, as if they had the power to dispel the apathy that hung over this place. We moved through the hallways until we found a janitor who looked like he¡¯d rather be anywhere else right now. Poor guy, I almost shared his sentiment.

    ¡°Can you point us to the principal¡¯s office?¡± I asked.

    He looked up blankly and gestured toward the end of the hall.

    ¡°Down there,¡± he muttered. ¡°Two lefts, then a right.¡±

    We nodded in thanks before making our way to the principal¡¯s office. The principle was a tired-looking man, middle-aged. He had the misfortune of a hard job and the lines on his face and thinning hair to show for it.

    ¡°Can I help you, officers?¡± he asked, sinking a bit into his seat, couldn¡¯t blame him either.

    ¡°Pardon the intrusion,¡± I said, flashing my badge. ¡°We¡¯re looking for a student ¨C Cassandra Weddell, ring any bells?¡±

    ¡°No, but I can look her up for you,¡± he offered, already turning to his screen.

    It took all I had not to cross my arms across my chest. I didn¡¯t want to put the wilting man in front of me on edge, but this room was bringing back a lot of bad memories. I was sixteen, and I had already been struggling for a while, but things seriously went downhill after my mother died. Suddenly, my whole world just shattered, and I was supposed to give a damn about some test scores ¨C nice fucking try. I was working so hard to impress my parents, but mostly I just wanted to win over my mother, and without her there I didn¡¯t know what the point was anymore. It was like my life lost its plot, its anchor. Before I got my academics back on track, there was a period where I practically lived in the school counselor¡¯s office, staring at my shoes, while he tried to tell me I was throwing away my potential.

    ¡°I¡¯ve got her records pulled up now... It seems she¡¯s been missing for about three weeks. We sent notices to her school account. Parents have access to their accounts, but if they don¡¯t check it, there¡¯s nothing we can do.¡±

    It figures; that was the extent of their power. School teachers occasionally had a feeling when something wasn¡¯t right with a kid at home, but they didn¡¯t have either the resources or the manpower to do a damn thing about it.

    ¡°Did the kid ditch much?¡± Gabe chimed in. ¡°Made it a habit?¡±

    ¡°No, not at all. She was a good student. Her teachers¡¯ notes mention being very quiet and not socializing with her classmates, but there are no complaints for truancy or misconduct.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re going to need a copy of that,¡± I said.

    The principle complied and sent the files over to our Irises, along with a passcode.

    ¡°For her locker,¡± he added. ¡°If you needed that.¡±

    ¡°We appreciate it,¡± I said curtly, while already halfway out the door.

    I was sick of that room, and I needed out. Her locker was easy to find, neatly sandwiched in between rows of numbered metal boxes. Disappointingly, there was only one thing of note inside: a tablet with some black grease smudged on the edges. No photos. No personal items. No nothing. We bagged it and were on our way.

    In the school courtyard, there was a group of provocatively dressed girls; they looked entirely too young to be dressed like that. I was going to grumble internally and leave it at that, but then the word ¡°ghost¡± slipped out of one of their mouths, and suddenly, I needed to know what they were talking about. Taking a minor diversion, I got within earshot. Gabe cocked a brow at me, likely wondering what the hell I wanted with a bit of teen gossip, but he didn¡¯t object; the man was a saint.

    ¡°You saw it?¡± one of the girls asked. "Was it really missing half its face?"

    ¡°I don¡¯t even know!¡± a second girl replied. ¡°It was so fucking fast. Thought I saw a lady staring at me, and then she was gone. Like she wasn¡¯t even real or something!¡±

    She paused and leaned in conspiratorially.

    ¡°And get this,¡± she said. ¡°There weren¡¯t any holo-discs anywhere. No tech, just nothing.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s so freaky,¡± a third girl chimed in. ¡°You should have tried to touch it.¡±

    Ghost stories ¨C I found them everywhere I went. Maybe I wanted a reason for why I felt haunted all the time that wasn¡¯t the aching in my chest. Maybe it was a cry for help, for connection. God knows, I didn¡¯t know all the innerworkings of my own mind. It was a mess of wires in there, bits and pieces of all the things I¡¯ve ever seen, heard, or done. If anyone ever opened up my head, they¡¯d put an ¡°out of order¡± sign on it or maybe a construction symbol somewhere. Just slap warnings on every surface: ¡°Careful, don¡¯t touch.¡± And as much as I wanted to let it go, there was something about that description that made my breath catch in my throat. A woman with half a face, huh? Sounded a whole lot like me.

 Chapter 20 - Arc II: The Woman with Half a Face

    Back at the precinct, we paid Ethan a visit. It wasn¡¯t often we went directly to the source; most of the time he was just the man behind the curtain, sending us messages through our Irises with images, flashes of text, and a disembodied voice, but novelty is good for the soul. When we found him, he was sitting hunched over his desk with the reflective glow of holographic images on his glasses hiding his eyes.

    ¡°You¡¯re right on time,¡± he said, adjusting his glasses. ¡°I was just about to finish going through the school report you sent me.¡±

    ¡°Anything interesting?¡± I asked.

    "Sure, I found a few things you might want to know," he said. "First, despite her appearance, she¡¯s fourteen."

    He pulled up a render of the Cassie; the holographic model rotated slowly in space. The girl was fourteen, but from the way she looked and held herself, I would have guessed she was still no older than twelve ¨C a mistake Noah must¡¯ve made as well.

    "Here¡¯s the highlight reel,¡± Ethan said, scrolling through her records off to my side. ¡°Meticulous, excelled in detail-oriented work. A part of the robotics team at her school. Spent hours on projects, sometimes taking apart and rebuilding things just to see how they worked."

    ¡°The kid liked to tear things apart,¡± Gabe said, chuckling. ¡°Not bad. I did a bit of that too, just without putting it back together. Drove my parents fucking nuts.¡±

    ¡°I bet,¡± I said, raising my eyebrows.

    ¡°Hey, focus,¡± Ethan said, exasperated. ¡°Let¡¯s get through this first before we get carried away.¡±

    The two of us grinned sheepishly before turning our attention back to the task at hand. In our minds, we pieced together the life of this girl, Cassie, who had found something she loved ¨C a hobby that was juxtaposed with the principles her family and community lived by. It went without saying that tinkering with technology wouldn¡¯t have won her any friends or favors. Gabe and Ethan were silent beside me, but I could tell the gears were turning in their heads, just as they were in mine.

    ¡°Someone in her community could be our first suspect then,¡± I said. ¡°Maybe her family. Her dad wasn¡¯t exactly oozing with sympathy and concern for his daughter when we got the chance to talk to him the other day.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s the priest too,¡± Ethan said. ¡°I know you like him, but we can¡¯t rule him out yet.¡±

    Father Lewis, the kindly priest we met when we stopped by the food pantry, I didn¡¯t want to believe he could hurt anybody; I wanted to believe in the sincerity I saw in his eyes, to believe in the good that was still in this world, in kindness that asked for nothing in return. Crushing my eyes shut, I took a deep breath to center myself.

    ¡°Of course,¡± I said. ¡°But we can deal with that later; let¡¯s handle this first.¡±

    My feet were moving towards the door before my mind caught up. Gabe, quick to act, closed the distance between us with a few solid strides.

    ¡°You got somewhere to be?¡± he asked. ¡°Invite me next time.¡±

    I had to admit that it was an oversight on my part to start leaving without him, but I just scoffed as he fell back into our easy rhythm. When you know someone long enough, walking with them becomes second nature ¨C both of you acting like parts of the same machine. I glanced at him with my lips curving at the corners. No apologies, but Gabe was a big boy; he could handle it.

    ***

    Soon we were back on the road, driving out to the secluded enclave where the Elect of Abstantia lived. Once again, past the dilapidated buildings were the classic, cookie-cutter houses. There was something about how perspective changed everything; the last time I stepped foot in here, I had almost felt a sense of relief and nostalgia. It felt quaint, nostalgic even. This time, all I felt was a tightness in my shoulders and lower back. Who knew how the average man, woman, or child lived in this place, but for Cassie, at least, it was a fa?ade to hide control and manipulation behind a pretty face. This was a place where the world stood still, and we were about to rock the boat. Gabe shifted in his seat, glancing around.

    ¡°No one¡¯s out,¡± he said. ¡°But someone¡¯s gotta know something.¡±

    Our arrival set off a cascade of closing curtains like a cheap parlor trick. It wasn¡¯t exactly a welcome party. There were even fewer people out in the open than before. Cops show up, people scatter, tale as old as time. After walking down a few blocks, we were starting to wonder if we¡¯d find anyone willing to talk until we spotted a group of kids loitering near a barn. Thank God for teenage rebellion.

    ¡°Hey, you kids got a minute?¡± I asked. ¡°We¡¯re here for Cassie. You know her?¡±

    There were three in total ¨C an older boy who was likely the ringleader, a younger boy, and a younger girl. They exchanged glances with each other until the oldest boy stepped forward. He couldn¡¯t have been more than fifteen, but there was a hardness in his eyes that seemed out of place for someone his age.

    ¡°Yeah, we know her, but she¡¯s not our friend,¡± he said.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

    ¡°What¡¯s it like being a cop?¡± the younger girl piped up. ¡°Does it get boring having everyone hate your guts?¡±

    Scratch that ¨C it turns out I wasn¡¯t thankful for teenage rebellion after all. If I hadn¡¯t been on the job, I might¡¯ve given the kid a hard time for mouthing off, but I wasn¡¯t about to risk it when we still needed information. Instead, I just shrugged it off.

    ¡°Beats me,¡± I said, keeping my tone flat. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t know.¡±

    The kids, already bored with their game, were happy enough to move on.

    ¡°What do you want to know about Cassie for? She¡¯s so weird. No one likes her,¡± the girl said. ¡°If you¡¯re looking for her, why don¡¯t you ask that weird priest? She was always following him around like she loved him or something.¡±

    ¡°You have a problem with the priest?¡± I asked, narrowing my eyes.

    Given their conflict of faith, their distaste for him could either stem from personal grievances or accusations of professional misconduct. As much as I liked the guy, I wasn¡¯t na?ve enough to let my personal feelings cloud my judgment¡ªI couldn¡¯t rule out the possibility of foul play.

    ¡°Our parents told us not to talk to him,¡± the younger boy said.

    ¡°What¡¯s it to you?¡± the oldest boy asked.

    The kids were tight-lipped, probably coached by their parents to keep their mouths shut, and I had a feeling we weren¡¯t going to get much more out of them about Father Lewis.

    ¡°Do you know what she did with her time?¡± I asked, changing the subject. ¡°Where she went, for example?¡±

    ¡°Not really,¡± said the younger boy. ¡°But she stank sometimes.¡±

    "You could smell her from across the room,¡± the girl sneered. ¡°Probably rolled around in trash like an animal. You¡¯d just see her sometimes hauling bags of trash or something. Whatever it was, it reeked.¡±

    She held her nose and stuck out her tongue for effect. Classy.

    ¡°The kid was a collector,¡± Gabe observed. ¡°Know where she was getting the stuff?¡±

    I crossed my arms. If she was collecting scraps, it¡¯d help us to know where she was getting them from. Some of the bots she built had pretty fancy parts ¨C not the kind of thing a kid her age could get without spending a bit of change. If she skirted the rules to get what she needed, there might even be a third party out there with a grudge against her.

    ¡°Why would we know?¡± the girl scoffed. ¡°It¡¯s not like we hung out with her or anything.¡±

    ¡°Wonderful," I said, forcing a tight smile. "Thank you for your time.¡±

    I jerked my head toward Gabe, signaling that I was more than ready to leave. The kids took the hint and wandered off, no doubt off to loiter somewhere with greener pastures.

    We were a few houses down when I caught a flash of movement in my peripheral vision¡ªa tumble of loose curls bobbing along on small, clumsy feet, the hem of a pink pleated dress swaying with each step. A little girl, no older than seven, was tailing us. Every time we turned around, she¡¯d dart behind a wall or duck out of sight, peeking back at us with wide, innocent eyes.

    Where had I seen those curls before? Those sad, pleading eyes? I paused, racking my memory, and then it hit me¡ªCassie. Noah had mentioned her having a younger sister. I nudged Gabe¡¯s arm, and he knew. We both knew this was a chance to get answers we couldn¡¯t let slip away.

    I moved slowly toward her, crouching down to meet her gaze at eye level.

    "Hey, it¡¯s okay," I said gently. "Don¡¯t worry; you can come out now."

    The girl took a step forward, clutching the edge of the house with her small hands. Unwilling to let go, she froze in place with her delicate fingers locked onto it like a lifeline. Her eyes flitted between us ¨C first to Gabe and then back again to me.

    "Are you here for Cassie?" she asked, hesitantly.

    "Mhm, we sure are. Is she your sister?"

    She gave a small nod.

    I exchanged a quick glance with Gabe ¨C this was the moment we were waiting for.

    "Is she at home?" I asked.

    The little girl shook her head, tucking her chin down to her chest.

    Before I could say another word, a woman rushed forward and grabbed the girl¡¯s arm, yanking her backwards.

    "Mom, that hurts!" she yelped, nearly toppling over.

    "Watch it," I said, with a hint of warning in my voice.

    The woman shot me a scathing glare.

    "People like you shouldn¡¯t be here, on our land, talking to our kids," she hissed. ¡°How do you sleep at night? You¡¯re despicable.¡±

    Her fingers dug into the young girl¡¯s arm. She winced and scrunched up like she wanted to disappear. Both of us were more than willing to put up a fight, but it wasn¡¯t worth it, at least not yet.

    Pitting parents against their kids never ended well, and the reason why was obvious ¨C it wasn¡¯t a fair fight. Any victory came at a cost. In essence, they could win the battle, but not the war. I rose to my feet and took a step back, putting space between us. The woman simply shot us a guarded look before releasing the girl and storming off. The young girl rubbed at the angry red marks on her arm before reluctantly following her mother.

    ¡°We¡¯re done here,¡± I hissed through gritted teeth. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±

    Gabe fell in step beside me, our boots grinding against the gravel as we headed for the cruiser.

    ¡°The kid wanted to tell us something,¡± Gabe said. ¡°Looked scared out of her mind.¡±

    I couldn¡¯t look at him. I was a swirling mess of emotions, and my heartbeat hammered inside my chest. That was one thing that never got any easier ¨C seeing kids get treated like trash. A pang of guilt bloomed throughout my chest. It was either a blessing or a curse, but I saw myself in everyone I met. Anyone and everyone who looked at me just right felt familiar, like home. And home, that funny thing, could change in an instant.

    ¡°The girl said her sister wasn¡¯t home,¡± I added, now back to our cruiser and out of earshot from nosy neighbors. ¡°And judging by the way she said it, it sounds like it¡¯s been a while.¡±

    ¡°That means we¡¯ve got a real case now,¡± Ethan chimed in over the Iris. ¡°Not bad; I¡¯ll get the paperwork started.¡±

    Ethan, the man of the hour, our trusted warrior here to fend off the tedium of the red tape. What would we do without him?

    ¡°Didn¡¯t know you were listening, Ethan,¡± I said.

    ¡°Gabe pinged me a few minutes ago, around the time you started talking to the girl.¡±

    I glanced over at Gabe, who flashed me a big, toothy grin.

    ¡°Needs three to be a party,¡± he said. ¡°Gotta think ahead.¡±

    The edges of my lips curved in a smirk.

    ¡°If they like burying their secrets, we¡¯ll just have to dig them up, won¡¯t we?¡± I asked.

    ¡°It¡¯s a tough world out there; let¡¯s find her before someone else does,¡± Ethan said.

    ¡°Agreed,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ll sleep easier once we¡¯ve got her back safe and sound.¡±

    The car was silent once the doors slammed shut. We had our work cut out for us. Gabe¡¯s eyes were glued to the road, and his mind busy mulling over the details. Things weren¡¯t adding up. Her father was nursing a mysterious, undisclosed injury. Cassie hadn¡¯t been to school in three weeks, and as far as we knew, no one had seen her since or been her friend. Finally, her younger sister implied that she hadn¡¯t been home for quite a while. She was gone, missing, gone up in smoke, and no one was looking for her. No one even cared. I wasn¡¯t sure what it meant, but I had a feeling it was bad news.

 Chapter 21 - Arc II: The Woman with Half a Face

    People all yearn for connection and belonging; that¡¯s why if you really want to make someone suffer, these are what you take away. The very ability to experience pain was hardwired into the framework of our existence. Pain begets pleasure, and pleasure begets pain. Those endlessly winding neural pathways hidden away deep inside our heads light up like fireworks every time it hurts. Social rejection. Injury. It doesn¡¯t really matter; the truth is that emotional and physical pain are simply two sides of the same coin. Ying and yang. Dark and light. You cannot separate one from the other, and anyone foolish enough to try will be sorely disappointed.

    I flexed my hands, clenching and extending my fingers over and over. They felt almost identical, both left and right, even though only one of them was mine. The other, synthetic, was a cruel reminder of the way I lost my arm. The memories of it still kept me up at night. The way it was torn from my shoulder was broken, grisly, and ugly. It was a reminder that there were no greater beasts than our fellow men.

    In the corner of my consciousness, I thought I heard my name.

    ¡°Lana¡­ Lana, are you listening?¡± Ethan asked.

    His voice cut through my thoughts, and my focus snapped back to reality. I saw the edges of concern forming in his eyes, narrowed behind his glasses.

    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± I said. ¡°Back it up a bit; I¡¯ll catch up.¡±

    Ethan sighed and shook his head before getting back to it, his fingers flying across the keyboard. A list of details appeared on the holo-screen: Cassie¡¯s last known locations, marked by the grainy photos of her Ethan had pulled from surveillance footage. Together, they dotted a map highlighting key areas of interest.

    ¡°This is what we¡¯ve got so far,¡± Ethan said. ¡°It¡¯s incomplete, but the last confirmed sighting of her was at 5:45 PM around the corner of Mother Teresa¡¯s Food Pantry. Considering it¡¯s been nearly three weeks, any notable witness testimony is likely a dead end.¡±

    ¡°You want us to go pay him a visit,¡± I observed, fidgeting. ¡°Not a problem.¡±

    Ethan stayed quiet. Gabe cleared his throat and leaned back against the wall. I could read between the lines.

    ¡°No,¡± I said, narrowing my eyes. ¡°You want Gabe to go pay him a visit¡­ without me.¡±

    Ethan¡¯s eyes remained fixed on me while Gabe shifted and whistled. I could feel the wariness coming off him in waves.

    ¡°Sit this one out,¡± he said. ¡°You¡¯re not thinking straight.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± I scoffed. ¡°If I took time off whenever I had a bad day, I¡¯d never get anything done at all. Relax. You don¡¯t need to play big brother right now.¡±

    I jerked my head towards Gabe.

    ¡°Why don¡¯t we ask Gabe what he thinks?¡±

    Gabe glanced between us, running his hand over the stubble along his jaw. With an easy smile, he furrowed his brows and shrugged.

    ¡°She¡¯s tough as nails,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s not gonna be a problem. A shot of coffee, and she¡¯ll be running circles around us in no time.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not that I think you can¡¯t handle it, Lana,¡± Ethan sighed. ¡°but something about the priest is riling you up. It could get ugly¡­ I don¡¯t have to tell you that, do I?¡±

    He thought I was falling apart. Hell, maybe everyone did. And quite frankly, I was sick of it¡ªsick of the way they watched me like a hawk, waiting for the cracks to blow, waiting for the moment I¡¯d finally shatter and scatter all my broken pieces across the floor. My skin prickled at the thought of them swooping in to clean up my mess. I still had my pride. I¡¯d handle myself.

    ¡°Worry about yourself,¡± I snapped back. ¡°Gabe, let¡¯s go.¡±

    ¡°Wait!¡± Ethan called out, but I was already out the door.

    ¡°You sure you want to leave like that?¡± Gabe asked, catching up to me.

    ¡°I¡¯ve done worse,¡± I quipped. ¡°Let¡¯s just get this over with.¡±

    ***

    Outside, the fresh air felt cool on my skin. I turned to Gabe.

    ¡°So, what¡¯s up first? Coffee?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, how about that little place down that corner street?¡±

    ¡°You mean the one that made you sick?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s the one. They make it strong enough to kill a man.¡±

    I paused.

    ¡°You know what, fuck it. I¡¯ll take two.¡±

    Gabe laughed, and then we were on our way in the cruiser. Two coffees, later and I was so wired up, I couldn¡¯t doze off if I wanted to. I flexed my synthetic hand, my fingers curling into a fist before relaxing. My mind wandered briefly, but I shoved the memory aside. Focus.

    Ethan¡¯s voice cut in over the Iris.

    ¡°Careful, if you keep rushing out like that, it¡¯s going to hurt my feelings.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯d take more than that to bruise your ego,¡± I quipped. ¡°You got something good for us?¡±This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

    ¡°Not yet,¡± he sighed. ¡°I¡¯ll run a background check on the priest. See if there¡¯s anything that stands out.¡±

    He cut the call, and not long after, we were back on the church¡¯s familiar doorstep. As we stepped inside, the stillness was broken only by the echo of our footsteps. It was a place of peace, a sanctuary that stood still while the rest of the world whizzed on by.

    Father Lewis was speaking with a parishioner near when we spotted him. The woman gave us a brief glance before offering Father Lewis a parting smile before turning to leave and making her way down the aisle. He turned to greet us as the church¡¯s door closed behind her.

    ¡°Detectives,¡± he said. ¡°What brings you back here today? Have you found her?¡±

    His brows furrowed as he spoke.

    ¡°Not yet,¡± I said. ¡°But you don¡¯t need to worry; we¡¯ve been combing the city for her,¡± I said.

    ¡°Got a few leads too,¡± Gabe chimed in.

    ¡°We have a surveillance photo from the last time Cassie dropped by here; as far as we know, that was her last confirmed location. Working on that assumption, that would make you the last person who saw her.¡±

    Father Lewis¡¯s eyes widened. Either he didn¡¯t know, or he was putting on a good show. He¡¯d have to take up acting if his priesthood ever fell through.

    ¡°We¡¯re going to need you to think real hard about what she said to you the last time you saw her.¡±

    ¡°The last time I saw her¡­ She didn¡¯t say much at all, but she was in a good mood.¡±

    ¡°Was that typical of her?¡± I asked.

    ¡°No,¡± he admitted, furrowing his brows again. ¡°She was not a happy child.¡±

    He stuffed his hands in his pockets, a nervous habit, maybe. He abruptly withdrew one hand with his fingers curled around something small. Resting on his palm was a metallic fragment, jagged and delicate. It looked like it had broken off an electronic device.

    ¡°This has been in my pocket for months,¡± he murmured, turning it over in his hand.

    ¡°Any idea what it is?¡± I asked.

    A piece of the fragment caught the light; it looked almost beautiful.

    ¡°Not in the slightest,¡± he admitted. ¡°I found it on the ground after one of her visits. She was always tinkering with something. I was going to offer it to her when she came back, but it entirely slipped my mind. It must have been through quite a few wash cycles by now. Hopefully, it can still be of use to you,¡± he said, offering it to us.

    ¡°We should bag it up and get the thing back to Ethan,¡± Gabe said. ¡°Bet he could tell us what the damn thing is.¡±

    I nodded as Father Lewis handed the piece to Gabe.

    "We stopped by the kid''s place earlier," Gabe said. "Ran into some talkative kids. They mentioned Cassie followed you around a lot. Sounded like there might be more to it."

    His face blanched like the wind had been knocked out of him.

    ¡°I¡¯ve heard the rumors,¡± he said, his gaze dropping to the floor. ¡°There was nothing between us. The group doesn¡¯t trust us, even with the aid we provide. It¡¯s our differences in faith.¡±

    ¡°No good deed goes unpunished,¡± I muttered.

    A moment of silence hung between us before Ethan¡¯s voice came in over the Iris.

    ¡°Got something,¡± he said. ¡°Father Lewis has a history. Let me break it down for you.¡±

    Some dated articles popped up on our feed¡ªreports on the quarantine zone, the war, and the aftermath of an airstrike. Broken buildings perched atop sinking land, fenced off with barbed wire. Each article hinted at a traumatic past.

    ¡°Local celebrity twenty years back. Remember the war?¡±

    ¡°Sure,¡± I said. ¡°Who wouldn¡¯t?¡±

    ¡°Well, he was the first dead man to walk out of the quarantine zone.¡±

    The quarantine zone was the aftermath of an infamous airstrike on Volare City during the war. You didn¡¯t need to be there to know what it did to people. Maybe I didn¡¯t remember it, but my parents did, and they weren¡¯t the only ones. I was born right on the coattails of history in the making.

    ¡°You don¡¯t mean¡­¡± I said. ¡°He¡¯s that Victor Lewis?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, you got it; that¡¯s the one. A bomb dropped on his house, took out the attic. He made it, but his mother didn¡¯t; only one of them was hiding in the basement when the bombs fell. He was just a kid, and it broke him,¡± Ethan said.

    ¡°Even I know what happened after that,¡± Gabe chimed in. ¡°The poor bastard snuck out of the hospital and held out for seventeen years in his bombed-out house. The guy was practically dead to the world, another body count for the books. Police found him seventeen years later, inconsolable and starving in a grocery store, said his food ran out. The rest is history.¡±

    I was still a kid when it was all over the news. Everybody wanted to know what was going through his head, but then there were others, and those other survivors were far more talkative. He got his fifteen minutes of fame and vanished. Takes a lot more than that to hold people¡¯s attention when this city¡¯s pride and joy was distraction. There wasn¡¯t a better place to be to forget everything for a while.

    Father Lewis frowned and creased his brows.

    ¡°I suppose I still have a reputation,¡± he mumbled.

    ¡°A lesser man than you would have leveraged your fame for status and money,¡± I observed.

    ¡°I am just a simple man; I have everything I need,¡± he said, gesturing around him. ¡°After coming back to society¡­ Everything was too loud¡­¡±

    Loud. Yeah, I could agree with that. The noise would be one of the first things you¡¯d notice if you came from the dead. There was a struggle to hear your own thoughts over the din of people, advertisements, construction, and traffic. Volare City never slept.

    ¡°The asceticism of the priesthood must suit you well,¡± I said, suddenly feeling like an intruder. ¡°Thank you for your honesty.¡±

    After we left the church, the outside world seemed even louder than before.

    ¡°Do you believe him?¡± I asked.

    Gabe stopped in his tracks and turned to me.

    ¡°I¡¯ve got a gut feeling,¡± he said. ¡°The guy¡¯s got a lot of baggage, but he doesn¡¯t seem like he¡¯s hiding anything.¡±

    I glanced back at the church. Places like this still felt heavy to me. There was a time that I lived by what priests and an all-loving, omnipotent god told me. But I stopped believing that ancient, often arbitrary rules could save me if I saved up enough ¡°good girl¡± points. It was my mother who was faithful, and when she passed, I drifted away from the church too. Two anchors, one stone. I¡¯ve been searching for my own way North since then.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± I sighed. ¡°I think so too.¡±

    Back in the cruiser, I withdrew into my own mind. In this line of work, a healthy degree of dissociation was necessary to stay objective, and I¡¯d always been willing to do whatever it took. If that meant snipping, cutting, or tearing, I did it¡ªjust like the good girl I was. Sever the threads holding everything together. Watch the pieces drift apart, then shove them down. Bury them deep, in a place even I wouldn¡¯t dare to search.

    No, I didn¡¯t care. I couldn¡¯t. This was just another one of the countless cases I¡¯d worked on over the years. I¡¯d seen it all ¨C crooks who perfected their polished facades with specially crafted smiles to hide dark secrets behind closed doors, suckers who made devastating mistakes in the heat of passion, good people who paid the price, and the kind of cruelty that bought you a ticket straight to hell.

    Most people with my job got jaded; I did too, but there was still a place inside me that wanted to believe in the good in people. I didn¡¯t know Father Lewis well, but I saw myself in his eyes. The urge to leave it all behind, to run away, hit me hard. I¡¯d had those thoughts before. Dark thoughts that crossed my mind time and time again. Whether it was weakness or just human nature, I wanted to be free from my obligations that never let up or ever let me catch my breath.

    At the center of it all, though, was Cassie. Everything came back to that girl. Cassie was a kid, vulnerable and helpless, and I¡¯d been that way once too. We all have, haven¡¯t we? Every adult was once a child at the mercy of the world, stumbling through problems with the clumsiness of youth, inexperience, and the naivety of a heart that hadn¡¯t yet been stained black. I missed that girl ¨C the one I used to be.

 Chapter 22 - Arc II: The Woman with Half a Face

    I should have felt comfortable lying in my linen sheets staring at my familiar apartment ceiling, but I was stiff enough to crack. They say home is where the heart is, and I had no idea where that was anymore, but I knew that at this moment, this wasn¡¯t my home. Muted neon lights danced across my ceiling through the flimsy curtains I swore to myself I¡¯d replace. They were supposed to be temporary, a placeholder for something better, just like everything else in my life.

    I rolled out of bed and threw on my trench coat. If I wasn¡¯t sleeping tonight, at least I¡¯d drive. I needed to move. My heels clacked down the stairs and the engine reeved until the road curved in front of me, bending left and right, again and again, before splitting into smaller streets and I was everywhere and no one at once. My mind emptied and then it was just me, the wind, and the road. Like a moth drawn to the light, there was something pulling at the edges of my mind and I brought myself back to somewhere I was trying to avoid.

    When I came back to my senses, I was idling in the parking lot of Silver Reach High ¨C the very same high school Cassie went to. It wasn¡¯t mine, but damn if it didn¡¯t look just like it in all the ways that mattered, and just like the actual school I had attended in my teens, I didn¡¯t want to be here either. It looked liminal at night, silent and empty, bathed in the cold glow of streetlights.

    My body moved before my mind caught up and I found myself walking down those empty halls again before I knew it. Part of me wanted to know what I was doing, the rest didn¡¯t really care, and my footsteps pulled me forwards while my mind was still swirling through feelings that were freshly uncovered from their graves, ready to haunt me again. It felt like some cruel joke an unforgiving god would play on his wayward flock. I shouldn¡¯t have been here. It didn¡¯t make any sense. I should have been still back home in bed reading faces into the meaningless shapes dancing across my ceiling, but the wind felt too cold on my skin and the goosebumps on my arms told me I was wide awake.

    Distinctly, I heard footsteps trailing behind me. At first, they were muted, like the footfalls of a small animal in the brush, but as they grew closer the sound of heels hitting the concrete was unmistakable. I whipped around to face them, but there was only the cold night air. Again. Again. Again. Each time I spun around to check, I was greeted with more empty halls and a growing sense of unease in my gut.

    ¡°Great,¡± I muttered. ¡°I¡¯m finally losing my mind.¡±

    Crossing my arms across my chest, I blew out a stray strand of hair from my face. Then there it was again. The only difference was that I caught it this time, or at least a part of it. It was something, a flash of a human form in my peripheral vision. A white dress, short black hair, porcelain skin, and a face with a hollow where her eyes should have been. In fact, the upper half of her face was cleaved straight off and the inside of her skull was pulling me in for just an instance until she was gone.

    ¡°What the hell was that?¡± I gasped, jerking backwards.

    One step turned to two, then three, and then I was sprinting back to where I¡¯d come from. With two fingers on my temples, I wound through the camera feed on my Iris, but there was nothing there. But I had seen her, I knew it as well as I knew anything at all.

    ¡°I need to get some sleep,¡± I muttered, rubbing my eyes. ¡°I¡¯m seeing things.¡±

    Once again, I moved on autopilot. Belt meet buckle. Hands on the wheel. Pedal meet foot. I peeled out of the parking lot and collapsed back into my bed, frozen in place until I fell into what should have been a dreamless sleep.

    ***

    No, instead of a deep and dreamless sleep, I found myself knee deep in nothingness. I was standing in a white void, bright white and sterile. There was a comforting brightness that embraced me just as much as it made my skin crawl. White on white on white. There was nothing but light and stillness, even my subtle breaths seemed to disturb this space that was too beautiful and too pure for my wretched soul.

    I trudged my way forward as the inky white nothingness swirled around me like mixing paint as hints of black burst through the white. Each step disturbed the pristine sludge more and more and it responded in kind by pulling me in, deeper and deeper, where it met me had risen from my knees to my waist, and then I was spinning, spinning, spinning down into a deep black pit ¨C a pit so dark it ate the light, but when I dragged myself back up to my feet, I saw a slender frame of a small figure crouched in the center of a faint white light.

    Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

    Slowly, I made my way to her, step by step, until I was standing on the edge of the circle of white light stubbornly refusing to be snuffed out.

    ¡°Hey, can you hear me?¡± I asked, but the figure didn¡¯t move.

    She seemed motionless, inhuman, and weightless, like she was transposed on top of a scene she had never existed in despite the long shadows spilling out behind her, far too long for her small form. They seemed to flicker in the low light, intangible and fleeting.

    After a moment that seemed to stretch on forever there was finally movement. The small head of black hair turned up to greet me and where her eyes should have been, I saw myself floating in the depths of her skull in between the mess of circuits and wires. The edges of where they were torn from her skull were jagged and jarring on her expressionless face.

    ¡°In all the world, there is one truth,¡± she said in a small and delicate, childlike voice.

    ¡°What is it?¡± I whispered, unable to tear my eyes away from where her¡¯s should have been.

    ¡°I¡¯m-¡° she says, abruptly cut short by my reappearance in my bed, heaving and sweaty.

    I glanced at the clock; it read six on the dot, only two hours before I¡¯d have to drag my ass out of bed. Sweeping my hand across my face, I sighed. It was going to be a long night, but then, in some twist of fate, I fell back to sleep the moment I had resigned myself to it and this time, somehow, my sleep was deep, heavy, and dreamless ¨C the way every night would have been if I could¡¯ve gotten my way.

    ***

    My eyes shot open as a powerful, ethereal vibrato shot into my ears; I recognized it instantly as my ring tone. It was still my favorite song, a classic from Marla and the Ghost and more than sufficient to catch my attention. I answered the call reluctantly.

    ¡°Do you know what time it is?¡± Ethan asked.

    ¡°No, should I?¡± I groaned, already regretting the question.

    ¡°Take a look for yourself,¡± he sighed.

    I had a bad feeling about this, and it was justified by the time flashing across my Iris well past noon. Shit.

    ¡°Wasn¡¯t sure if I should call,¡± he continued. ¡°Thought I¡¯d let you sleep in.¡±

    It was just like him to do that; he had a nasty habit of looking out for me without being asked. A mix of gratitude and frustration swam through my head. I already knew where this was going, it was the same place it always did.

    ¡°Lana, are you really up for this?¡± Ethan sighed.

    There it was. I tensed up even though I already knew it was coming, the part where he askes me if I¡¯m alright and I lie through my teeth. If he could see me, maybe I would have even puffed out my chest to sell the act. It was the same song and dance we went through again and again even though each time we cycled through it we believed it less than the time before.

    ¡°Stop asking me that; I¡¯ll be there,¡± I shot back, already half dressed. ¡°Gabe, where are you?¡±

    Without waiting for him to answer, I stepped out the door and got on the road. I hated them babying me because what I really needed was tough love. No, that wasn¡¯t right either. I didn¡¯t know what I needed, but what I did know was that there was a small part of me desperately trying to claw its way out of my heart, screaming out its little lungs that I didn¡¯t deserve it ¨C neither their concern nor their mercy. It was a part of me I¡¯d kept buried since my youth, but the passage of time hadn¡¯t made it any clearer to me why it was there or why it had formed in the first place.

    ¡°Nowhere yet,¡± Gabe said, keeping a cheerful lilt in his tone. ¡°Was just about to head out.¡±

    ¡°New lead?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Yeah, you could say that. Turns out those kids were onto something talking about Cassie rummaging through trash,¡± he said.

    ¡°Since I can¡¯t stop you,¡± Ethan sighed. ¡°I might as well catch you up.¡±

    A matrix of data flashed over my iris. Ethan explained it all with a bit of pomp and flair, threading together connections in that matter of fact tone he always had. When I was a kid, I hated his know-it-all nature, but these days it was a comfort at times. I smiled a bit despite the heavy thrumming in my head, curtesy of the whirlwind I went through the night before. His voice drifted in and out of focus, running together and melding into some sort of soup ¨C the kind where you smiled and swore you loved it even though the only discernable parts of the sludge were the eggshells.

    "Got an address?" I asked. ¡°I¡¯ll meet you there.¡±

    Through pure strength of will, I had caught just enough to get the gist of it¡ªCassie had been poking around places she shouldn¡¯t have been. And the rest? I¡¯d pick it up later.

    ¡°We¡¯re skipping the explanation today?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Don¡¯t need it,¡± I shot back. ¡°I trust you. I know you wouldn¡¯t send me on a wild goose chase.¡±

    Ethan scoffed and Gabe laughed easily, a warm full bellied laugh.

    ¡°Yeah, sure. Next time you think I¡¯m talking too much, be more subtle about it,¡± he quipped. ¡°I¡¯ll send it to you now. We tracked her down to this junkyard, seems like she¡¯s been there a lot. It¡¯s the sort of place that doesn¡¯t bother to kick kids like her out. No reputable place wants a teenager poking around and dying in their junk. The liability isn¡¯t worth it.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s the sort of place that easy for something or someone to go missing,¡± I observed.

    The address popped up on my Iris. I didn¡¯t recognize the name, but places like this were a dime a dozen in Volare City. There were a lot of sketchy unlicensed junkyards hidden away in the outer crevices of the city. No one bothered to check them unless someone ended up dead, and sometimes, not even then. Not every life was worth just as much in this city. Someone like Cassie, a girl who no one was looking for, could be dumped in a place like that and no one would be the wiser. The thought made my skin crawl, and my mouth suddenly tasted bitter. Copper. It was the tang of blood. I licked the nick my tooth left on my bottom lip and drove faster.