ã€ŠA Wolf among Dogsã€‹


 1.1: What happened?

    1

    My eyes flutter open, and the first thing I notice is the headache pounding away at my skull. Behind my eyebrows, at the top of my head, at my temples¡­ the mother of all headaches.

    I sit up and take in my surroundings.

    I¡¯m shirtless and my chest is littered with bruises. I¡¯m in a ruffled, damp bed, with two figures lying beside me, both partly covered in blankets and both partly clothed.

    They¡¯re girls. Good.

    What happened last night? I can¡¯t remember a thing. The ceiling has a brown stain on it, dripping into the bed to the left of my head. The reek of morning breath, smoke and feminine perfume are dancing around my nostrils. What kind of crap did I get myself into? In all my sixteen years of living, I¡¯ve never been this confused.

    I try to get up, but I realize that one of their legs is splayed over mine. It¡¯s a dark-skinned girl, with smooth complexion and a curvy, filled out leg. I let my finger lace up and down her thigh for a moment, before I try and get up. Her leg is heavy. Instead, I grab the bed frame and pull myself from under her, rolling off the bed and knocking my elbow on the stone floor.

    I lie there for a moment, then I stretch out my legs, which feel like somebody tied knots in my muscles. Clambering to my feet, I¡¯m blinded by a ray of sunlight, and my head suddenly feels light. I stagger into a¡­ something¡­ and use it to steady myself. It¡¯s a dresser-desk thing. I squint, seeing littered make-up paraphernalia of which I can¡¯t recall the name of a single one. Definitely a girl¡¯s room.

    I feel around, before I find a pair of sunglasses, and press them on. Now with working eyes, I look around the room. There are some spewed clothes, a couple unidentifiable puddles, and scattered glass bottles. I think about trying to find my shirt, but I don¡¯t remember what it looks like. I don¡¯t need it anyway. I find my way to the reeking bathroom and look at myself in the mirror, removing the sunglasses.

    But then I decide against it. Not even I, the great Kallix Rane, can bear the pale, angular, sunken image of the great Kallix Rane. But damn, my eyeshades are massive.

    The bruises on my chest are staring to look a lot less like bruises, but I¡¯ve still got my pants on, though my fly is open. I don¡¯t know if that¡¯s a good sign or a bad sign. I don¡¯t have a phone, so nine months from now I won¡¯t need to worry. My dark blue jeans are torn, but not fashionably, at the knees. My black and grey sneakers and white socks are muddy, as if I¡¯d been having a night parkour through a pigsty.

    ¡°What the hell did I do?¡± I murmur, trying to recollect the night before. I rummage through the desk, looking for my pills, but instead my hand comes across something that makes me leap inside my skin. I pistol. I pick it up and feel its weight. I pull out the clip but it¡¯s empty. I toss it aside and put the sunglasses back on. Black ray bans. My favorite.

    I walk back into the room to see that one of the girls is waking up. The one with the nice thighs.

    ¡°Kallix?¡± she groans. ¡°What time is it?¡±

    ¡°Time for you to go back to sleep,¡± I tell her, pushing her head back down onto the pillow. ¡°But thanks for the blow job,¡± I add.

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Toodles!¡± I wave, as I stumble down the stairs from the bedroom into the living room. It¡¯s even worse than I¡¯d imagined.

    Overturned furniture and teenagers litter the floor as if they¡¯d been emptied from a giant sack. I wade through the pond of bottles, clothes and people when my eye catches something. A bong.

    Screw it, no time. I need to find my pills, or my headache is going to crack my skull open.

    ¡°Kallix.¡± I hear the spoilt whine of a rich girl. I turn around to see her again, with half open eyelids, standing at the base of the staircase and using the door frame to hold herself up. She¡¯s wearing an oversized shirt that covers half her thighs. Her very nice thighs. The shirt is too big to be mine. Did I get second go?

    In her left hand is a little cylindrical plastic container. My little cylindrical plastic container.

    I sigh with relief. ¡°Thanks a trillion,¡± I tell her, sifting over to her and plucking it from her hands.

    ¡°What happened?¡± she whines.

    ¡°Don¡¯t look ask me, Monika.¡±

    ¡°My name is Krissa! Monika is my best friend! Did you have sex with my best friend?¡±

    My hands are already at the front door, but it¡¯s locked.

    ¡°Kallix, why do you have my sunglasses?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re beautiful, I must admit,¡± I tell her as I pull open a window.

    ¡°Where are you going?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll be back in a jiffy,¡± I reassure her as I slip out the small gap. I dangle from the windowsill for a moment. Two stories up. Not jumping. Instead, I grab hold of the drainage pipe and shimmy down a floor, before dropping down to perch on another windowsill. I step onto the railing of a balcony on the first floor, and leap to the edge of a fire escape on the apartment next to the house I¡¯m on. I drop to a squat and slide down the bannister, landing flawlessly and walk on with a skip in my step.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    I saunter through the alley for a few meters, but then I realize that I¡¯m too hungover to saunter. I shake my pill container and hold it up to the light. It¡¯s still half-full. I smack my crusty, dried out lips. Time to get some water. I break into a jog, vaulting over a dumpster and break out into the open road. I¡¯m in the nicer side of the city; the buildings are clean and the people look friendly. At least they did until they saw a bruised up shirtless teenager running down the road.

    As I run down the sidewalk, many of the people cross over to the other side of the road. One woman, very small and pushing a baby carriage, pulls out a can of what I can only assume is pepper spray. I blow her a kiss without breaking my stride, and she¡¯s in too much shock to spray me. Maybe somebody will call the cops. I wouldn¡¯t mind that. I always get a good workout when they chase me.

    I run on until I see the neon flashing lights of a convenience store. How convenient. I slow to a walk, and eye the front door. There¡¯re a lot of people inside. Perfect. I waltz inside, flinging the door open. Surprisingly, nobody turns towards me. Everybody is transfixed on a little TV, mounted in the corner of the room above the cashier. I unintentionally read the news headline: Shootout over Bansilin Producing Wear-house in North East Sector. Bansilin. The infamous drug that¡¯s been lurking in every corner of the city for the past six years. Since I was ten, it¡¯s been the drug that¡¯s bad, but is nobody¡¯s top priority. There were always worse drugs to fight against, like cocaine, heroin, bath salts or flakka. Bansilin¡¯s side effects aren¡¯t nearly as quick, but they¡¯re just as bad. You don¡¯t wake up hungover, and overdoses are very rare, but it does¡­ other things to you. It scares me because it changes people. Every time you take it, you change a tiny bit. The changes are so insignificant and fragmented that nobody cared for a while. Maybe your favorite color changed from purple to red overnight. You think your favorite color¡¯s always been red, but everybody else knows that it¡¯s purple. The changes are tiny, but as they start to accumulate, people got scared. People got anxious.

    The scene shifts to an interview with a man in a police uniform. He¡¯s got defined cheekbones, dark eyes, a strong, square jaw and well-trimmed black hair that¡¯s slick with sweat. The name on his shoulder reads: Kaloaan Rane. My brother.

    ¡°We¡¯ve got them pinned down. They¡¯re outnumbered and outgunned and there¡¯s not a chance that they can escape. We want to give them a chance to surrender before we storm in,¡± he says. He¡¯s confident and reassuring.

    ¡°Have their been any casualties yet?¡± the reporter asks.

    ¡°None of my men have been harmed, nor have any of the¡­ people within the building.¡± He chooses his words carefully.

    Before he says anything else, I¡¯ve already slipped a 500ml bottle in each pocket and a third down my pants. Hopefully anybody that sees me will just think that I¡¯m a very blessed sixteen year old. I blunder past the cashier to the bathroom. I lock the stall, put the seat down and prop up my legs against the door. Aside from my hangover headache, I¡¯ve got my regular tension aches creeping back into my neck. I hate them. They ache none-stop, unless I can get my pills, or a very skilled masseuse. It¡¯s worst in my neck, near the base of my skull and in my shoulder, between my shoulder blades. The oddest part about it is that it¡¯s only on one side of me. Literally, it¡¯s as if somebody drew a vertical line down the center of my body, and made my entire left side become an aching handicap, all the way from my head to my feet. I pour one of my pills into my mouth and open one of the bottles quenching my desert of a mouth. I rest on the toiled seat for a moment, but it doesn¡¯t last. Somebody knocks rapidly on the stall door. It can¡¯t be somebody needing to use the bathroom, there are plenty of others.

    ¡°Hey kid. Hey kid you¡¯re going to pay for that right?¡±

    ¡°Yep. Yeah just give me a second,¡± I tell him.

    ¡°Alright, but I¡¯m waiting outside.¡±

    I don¡¯t reply.

    The door clicks shut.

    Quickly and silently, I slip out of the stall. Lucky for me, there¡¯s somebody in the next stall over, and they¡¯ve left their black fabric backpack just beneath the door. As silent as melancholy I make my way to it and snatch it up from beneath the metal frame.

    ¡°Oi!¡± the man shouts, but I¡¯m already blitzing towards the door. I shove the bottles inside, sling it over my shoulder and barrel through. The shop owner is nearly knocked off his feet as the door smashes into him, but I don¡¯t wait to see his reaction. Moving through the isles would take too long, so I grab the top of one, and using the shelves as a ladder I climb on top.

    ¡°Hey! What the hell¡¯re you doin¡¯!¡± cries the owner, shaking his fist.

    I don¡¯t miss a beat, and start running, stepping on the tops of the shelves towards the door.

    ¡°Stop him!¡± the owner shrieks. The thumping of heavy footsteps is drowned out by confused screams.

    Why the hell does a convenience store have security guards? I wonder as I launch myself at the door. I grab the top of the door frame and kick the door open, swinging out after it. I¡¯m in the air for half a second before I land, splashing into a puddle, rolling through it and scrambling to my feet. I take off, running at full speed with the stolen backpack bouncing. I hear the rumble of a motorbike engine starting. Now I¡¯m screwed.

    I¡¯ve got a second to disappear before whoever is chasing me has pulled out of the parking space, so I veer into the nearest alley I see. It¡¯s jammed full of people.

    ¡°God damnit!¡± I curse, turning back to the road. My pursuer, who¡¯s a middle aged, pot bellied man on a Harley Davidson, is revving to life.

    Think you damn bastard.

    The bike roars and he plows towards me, and he would¡¯ve caught me in a second had I not thrown myself on top of a nearby dumpster. The Davidson crashed into the side, knocking me off the other side. He hollers a curse, hauling himself of the motorbike and charging towards me. Unfortunately for him, I¡¯m on my feet and at full sprint in a second. He soon realizes that he stands no chance at catching me, and drops the chase, bending over and heaving with exhaustion.

    I let out a hysterical crack of laughter as I run. My long strides send my flying down the road, but it appears that I¡¯ve attracted to much attention to myself. That or the bastard called the cops on me because a police car veers around a corner and slows down when it sees me. I can faintly see the policemen inside radioing that they¡¯ve got me.

    I contemplate my options and decide on the most reckless of them. Then I barrel forwards, right to them. Frantically, they unbuckle and open their doors, but by the time they get out, I¡¯ve reached the car. I leap onto the hood, roll onto the roof and use it as leverage to launch myself at the gutter of the pawn shop they¡¯ve parked next to. I hear them cry out in surprise, which only makes me laugh harder as I half myself onto the roof. They can¡¯t catch me now.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you guys have better things to be doing right now?¡± I ask, reclining against the roof shingles, me heels in the gutter to stop me from sliding.

    ¡°You stole from that store young man. Hand over the stolen goods and we won¡¯t take any action.¡±

    ¡°I stole water,¡± I reassure, pulling one of the bottles from my bag and taking a long swig. ¡°There are freaking murders going on right now, you know that right?¡±

    ¡°Hand over the stolen goods sir,¡± the officer commands, while the other climbs on top of the car so he can nearly reach my ankles.

    ¡°You want my water?¡± I ask.

    The cop nods.

    ¡°Alright. All you had to do was ask,¡± I tell him standing up. I reach for my bag while the cops sigh with relief. Then I lean over the edge and let it rain. It¡¯s not the water I stole though, but rather my personal, bodily made water. I snicker at the color. ¡°I ought to find out about last night,¡± I muse over the screams of disgust.

    ¡°Shoot the damn kid!¡± the cop hollers.

    By the time he¡¯s got his gun out of his holster, I¡¯ve already disappeared.

 1.2: I dont like Techno

    2

    I duck through the door of the second largest techno club in the entire city, slipping past the guard and using the shadows as a cloak. Suddenly, I¡¯m surrounded by a sea of half drunk, dancing people of all ages. I start gliding through the crowd, using my small size to my advantage. Techno music with indecipherable lyrics blares in my ears, and neon green and purple lights are swinging across the ceiling like search beams.

    A girl falls into my arms, making me halt in my progress. She¡¯s semi-pretty but wearing too much makeup. Her red dress spaghetti straps are falling off her shoulders as she wraps her arms around my neck. She looks up at me with big hazel eyes and a faint smile and starts saying something. I can¡¯t hear a word.

    ¡°Sorry, I¡¯ve got other commitments,¡± I tell her, letting her fall out of my arms and onto the floor. I only take a step before another girl has twirled into me, putting my hand on her waist and the other on her shoulder in a slow dance position. I dance with her for a moment, before twirling away from her, deporting her to another man. I then shoulder my way through the crowd until I get to the DJ¡¯s booth.

    ¡°Hey!¡± I call, waving both hands in the air.

    ¡°Yo! Whadup ma man?¡± he responds, still jabbing his right arm into the air to the beat.

    ¡°Tauren Ksura, is she performing?¡±

    ¡°Sorry dude. You missed her. But she might still be backstage if you can sneak in,¡± he responds, returning his attention to his stand.

    ¡°Damnit,¡± I mutter, diving shoulder first back into the crowd. I cut across the party, moving countless sex workers and horny queers from my path until I reach the backstage door. Why it¡¯s so far from the actual stage, I have no idea.

    Two burly security guards stand in the way.

    ¡°Hey, I gotta see Tauren.¡±

    One of them shakes his head. ¡°No can do. She said not to let anybody in.¡±

    ¡°Just tell her it¡¯s Kallix. She¡¯ll want to see me.¡±

    ¡°Sorry twerp. She¡¯s changing. I peak and I¡¯m fired. And get those dumb sunglasses off your face you perv.¡± He reaches over to snatch them, but I just lean out of his grasp. No point in trying to fight them.

    ¡°You look like a troll took a crap, and that crap had sex with the troll¡¯s mom, then birthed out an incest deformed crap troll!¡± I holler over the music as I disappear into the crowd. I¡¯ll just need to get in another way. The Kallix Rane way.

    I dart out of the club, making the bouncer¡¯s leap within their skin, and move faster than a cat around the side, becoming one with the shadows as I dive between the club and the laundromat to my left. Odd combination.

    I make no noise as I do a vertical jump and wrap my finger¡¯s around the gutter¡¯s pipe that shoots downwards into the ground. I pull my legs up like as if I¡¯m doing horizontal squats and spring diagonally upwards to the laundromat wall, where I manage to get a grip on its flat roof. I haul myself up and turn to the club. The changing room¡¯s opaque window is open a crack, letting out a sliver of soft yellow light onto the grimy alley way. I leap towards it, not using all my force so I fall with my hands to the windowsill. I make contact, using my pulled-up legs with my feet to the wall to avoid breaking a rib. I pull the window open a little bit more and slide inside.

    Tauren stands with her back to me, her phone pressed between her ear and her shoulder as she steps into a skirt. She¡¯s shirtless and wearing black panties.

    ¡°No, I¡¯m delaying it,¡± she says loudly into the phone. ¡°I¡¯ve got another gig on Friday. I can¡¯t make it. I mean you can go without me if you want to, but Zakary might not want to go.¡±

    I ease down from the window, enjoying the sight of her matured sculpted hips as she wiggles the skirt up. Land on the floor and lean against a dresser with my hands folded across my still shirtless chest.

    ¡°Yeah don¡¯t worry about it. It¡¯s fine! Really, I don¡¯t mind. Just-¡± she stopped abruptly, as she turned around, seeing me lurking in the corner. She shrieked, letting the phone fall from her shoulder and clatter to the ground.

    ¡°Hey,¡± I say, giving a little two finger wave.

    ¡°Oh my god, Kallix,¡± she hisses, letting the e-cig in her mouth drop to the floor, swiftly picking up a shirt and covering up before I can get a good look. She¡¯s tall, with flowing red hair that falls to her lower back and always makes her easy to identify in a crowd. She¡¯s got green eyes and a small nose, with a little scar on her lower lip. ¡°What¡¯s wrong with you?¡± She asks.

    ¡°What? I just wanted to say hi. Sorry I missed your gig by the way.¡±

    ¡°Oh yeah? You just wanted to say high?¡± she asks, the corner of her lips turning up. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you use the damn front door?¡±

    ¡°Do you know who I am? When have I ever used the front door? Plus, those damn gorillas outside wouldn¡¯t let me in.¡±

    ¡°Did you come for some consolation sex?¡± she asks, bending down and picking up her cigarette.

    ¡°Nah. I¡¯m limp as a snail from last night. Worst part is I don¡¯t even remember it. But if you¡¯re up for it, I wouldn¡¯t turn you down,¡± I offer, standing up and stepping close to her.

    ¡°Oh yeah?¡± she asks, taking the cig from her mouth in one hand and bringing her mouth a hair width away from mine. She lets the shirt she was holding fall to the ground, and I bring my hand up to cup one of them. It¡¯s so heavenly soft.

    I¡¯m about to move in to kiss her, when she gently pushes me away.

    ¡°What? Did I say something?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Kallix I can¡¯t,¡± she picks the shirt up again.

    ¡°The hell? Why not?¡±

    ¡°Kallix don¡¯t you know? I¡¯m getting married.¡±

    ¡°Married! That¡¯s amazing!¡± I cry, swinging myself up to perch atop her dresser.

    ¡°Yeah. I guess it is. In three days actually. Never thought I¡¯d be so young,¡± she turns so her back is to him again, picks up a bra. ¡°Look away,¡± she instructs.

    ¡°Tauren. How many time¡¯s have I seen you naked?¡±Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    ¡°Look away,¡± she demands

    ¡°Ugh. Fine,¡± I recline back, staring up at the ceiling as she dresses. ¡°So who is it? I bet my left ass it¡¯s Jaffalee.¡±

    Tauren let out a snort of a giggle. ¡°No, idiot. Wesslin Vokohagan.¡±

    ¡°Never heard of him. Sounds like a prick.¡±

    ¡°Shut up. He¡¯s a real nice guy. He knows me.¡±

    ¡°I know you.¡±

    ¡°He knows me personally. Not vaginally. He likes me for who I am.¡±

    ¡°Not your feather soft bosom?¡±

    Tauren chucks a shoe at me, forcing me to duck and nearly fall off the dresser. ¡°That too,¡± she adds.

    ¡°When is the wedding? Am I invited?¡±

    ¡°Of course. If you can get something nice to wear. Preferably with a shirt on.¡±

    ¡°Me? Wear a shirt? You crazy?¡±

    ¡°C¡¯mon. Can¡¯t embarrass me. I might be able to hook you up with something.¡±

    ¡°Since when are you so loaded with cash?¡±

    ¡°Wesslin¡¯s rich!¡± she grins. ¡°Well, at least rich compared to us.¡±

    I raise an eyebrow. ¡°I¡¯m rich in the heart.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re more broke in the heart than in real life. C¡¯mon, let¡¯s go,¡± she beckons him, putting the finishing touches on her eyeliner.

    ¡°I thought you finished the gig,¡± I ask, sliding down from the dresser and wondering where this is headed.

    ¡°Yeah. And I made a shit tone of money. Let¡¯s party!¡± she tosses her hands in the air and hollers, slamming open the door and prances into the chaos in high heels.

    I gingerly catch up to her. ¡°You know I don¡¯t like dancing. Or techno,¡± I tell her.

    ¡°You don¡¯t have to be here,¡± she says, hands swinging to the ceiling. The crowd are nails and she¡¯s a magnet. I¡¯m a twig, stuck between them. She lets out a high pitch holler. ¡°That was an amazing gig! I love you guys!¡±

    ¡°This is dumb,¡± I grumble, shoving away a lanky, dark skinned guy.

    She forces on hand down her shirt and pulls out a crumpled wad of cash. ¡°Have it. Go get yourself loose.¡±

    ¡°You know I don¡¯t do that kind of shit,¡± I reply, snatching the cash away from her and pocketing it. This is stupid. How do people have fun like this?

    Before I know it, Tauren is whisked away by her cultist moth-seeking-light crowd, and I¡¯m back in the sea of beating fists and stomping heels. I slither through the crowd, until I reach the bar. I plop down on one of the stools, an oversized man with a giant ginger beard next to me, sits reclined against the bar, eying a small, clear, ovular pill.

    ¡°It¡¯s amazing, isn¡¯t it,¡± he mutters, lost in the way the flashing neon lights refract within it. It¡¯s almost like an impossibly polished quartz. ¡°This little thing¡­ changed the world so much.¡± He pops it into his mouth, and downs it with a shot of something cough syrup red.

    I scoff.

    ¡°What?¡± he asks. ¡°You want one, kid?¡± he turns, and opens a huge hand. Within it, are a dozen more, gleaming with sweat.

    I shake my head and wave over the bartender. ¡°D¡¯you have anything that isn¡¯t synthetic? Any classics?¡±

    Without looking at me, the handlebar mustached bar tender slides me a glass, filled with ice and a dark brown liquid. The smell hits me before I catch the glass. Whiskey.

    The bartender then replaces the bottle and leans over to me. ¡°How old are you?¡± he asks.

    I had silently been wishing that my stubble would¡¯ve gotten a bit more prominent. Guess I overestimated myself.

    ¡°Eighteen,¡± I respond. ¡°Turning nineteen in two months.¡±

    ¡°Bull shit,¡± he spits.

    I hand him the cash for the drink in response.

    He takes it and shoves it into his pocket. ¡°Give me one good reason why a shouldn¡¯t report you,¡± he threatens, extending closer to me.

    I hand him another bill.

    ¡°Nobody uses this old school shit anymore, twerp,¡± he growls, but pockets it anyway.

    I¡¯m about to respond, when the club door is flung open, and a man in uniform storms in with a rifle held high. ¡°Everybody stop where you are! We have reason to believe Bansilin is in use and have been authorized to use lethal force if necessary!¡±

    I¡¯ve disappeared from the bar in an instant, sifting through the startled crowd members. It could be my brother at the door. He must¡¯ve one the shootout in the South East and gotten info about here. He¡¯s definitely brought a dozen men or more, which means I¡¯ve got under a minute before this entire bar is surrounded. I¡¯m not scared of being trialed for any opioid use, but I have other, jail worthy crimes on my record right now. I need to get out.

    ¡°I¡¯ve got men at every possible exit. If you try and escape, we will not hesitate to shoot you!¡± the man shouts. As I duck, I realize that it isn¡¯t my brother, but his deputy, Sqaverr. That means Kaloaan is lurking somewhere else.

    The thoughts and estimations racing through my brain are interrupted, as a clammy hand wraps around my wrist with an iron grip.

    ¡°Shit Kallix, we need to run!¡± Tauren hisses.

    I nod, grabbing the back of her head and forcing her down. The crowd stand motionless with their hands in the air, letting gout small peeps of alarm as we half crawl through them. A couple other people get the same idea as us and try to run. That¡¯s when the firing starts, making most freeze in their tracks.

    We reach the backstage door and hustle inside, the sound of bullets keeping me low. I ram the dresser on its side, giving Tauren a steppingstone to get out. She takes off her heels and makes her way out the window as fast as she can¡­ which is painstakingly slow in comparison to me, gripping the upper wood and practically swinging out. As we land, she chucks her heels away and takes off. Her long legs carry her much faster than most, faster than me, but her speed makes her veer as we around a corner. The sound of an officer¡¯s boots splashing through puddles rings out through the silent night. I¡¯m taking into account all of my options, when the officer barrels around the corner as well, gun in hand. Tauren¡¯s already careened into an alleyway. I think about following her, but the policeman will already have caught up to me by then. I¡¯d be able to escape in a chase, but he¡¯d probably shoot me down. Tauren led him on to me. Smart bitch.

    I¡¯m running directly towards a dead end. A four story, flat brick wall ahead of me. Great. In a second, I map out tiny ledge of a window that I can leap on to, the curved street lamp I can use to swing on, the balcony banister I can grab, then perch on, and the lowered section of the roof I can launch himself to. I leap into the edge and practically ricochet to the streetlamp, grabbing the curved part with both my hands, ready to swing upwards, when I hear.

    ¡°Kallix stop!¡±

    The recognition of the voice makes me skip a beat. Now a gun is trained at my chest.

    ¡°Kallix get down from there,¡± my brother orders. He¡¯s alone, with a handgun pointed directly at me.

    ¡°Why? So, you can lock me up in some sickly sanitized apartment,¡± I ask, still hanging.

    ¡°Kallix this is serious. Did you do any of it?¡±

    ¡°What? No!¡± I yell, dropping down to a crouch. ¡°You know I¡¯d never do that kind of shit.¡± I walk towards him. No running away now.

    My brother is a good four inches taller than me, with broad, police academy chiseled shoulders, a small waist, and a neatly trimmed goatee that makes me gag. He holsters his gun.

    ¡°Ok. I believe you. But nobody else will,¡± he tells me. ¡°You need to come with me so I can vouch for you.¡±

    ¡°Why don¡¯t you just let me slip away. Nobody will find me. Nobody ever does,¡± I tell him.

    ¡°Why do you want to live like this?¡± he asks, reaching a hand to my shoulder. ¡°Running, hiding, scrounging, stealing. You could have a life with me. I¡¯ve got more than enough room. You could go to school. Have actual friends. Have a future.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not a damned house pet. Stop trying to tame me,¡± I snarl. I¡¯m a street dog, backed into a corner, my muscles coiled and ready to move.

    He sighs. ¡°We haven¡¯t got much time before the others come. If you come with me, you won¡¯t need to go through all that court stuff. I¡¯ll push you through that. You can live how you want to live, but I¡¯m always here for you. My arms are always open.¡±

    ¡°Like a twenty-four-hour strip club,¡± I spit.

    ¡°Kallix this isn¡¯t why I¡¯m calling you right now,¡± he tells me, ignoring the comment as urgency builds up in his eyes.

    ¡°Bull shit.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ it¡¯s dad.¡±

    ¡°What? You found out?¡±

    ¡°Huh?¡±

    ¡°Never mind.¡±

    ¡°Dad¡¯s missing. He just disappeared. Mom has no idea what¡¯s happened, and she¡¯s becoming a completely different person because of it.¡±

    I¡¯m shocked for a moment. My dad¡¯s missing? Why the hell would anybody want to steal or murder that bore? Then I almost laugh. My idiot brother thinks that mom¡¯s acting different because dads disappeared, not because she¡¯s jacked up on the very drug Kaloaan swore to eradicate. Ironic.

    ¡°Yeah? And why the hell would you need me?¡± I snide.

    Then recoil back with instinct as a gunshot pierces through the wet air. Kaloaan doubles over, then drops to the ground. I¡¯ve shrunk behind a destroyed electrical transformer, sinking into the shadows.

    I hear somebody step over my brother, who¡¯s lying motionless on the ground. The sound of a gun reloading.

    ¡°Kallix get out. I know you¡¯re here.¡±

    I weigh my options. My brother may be dead. Probably dead. I could jump him, try and disarm him and take off, but I¡¯d probably be shot. I could try and stall until the other police members get here. I could through mud in his face and sprint like hell.

    ¡°I¡¯m not here to kill you Kallix. Quite the contrary.¡±

    I stand. I¡¯m going to stall him. ¡°And who might you b-¡± the bud of his gun smashes into my forehead, and I crumple backwards in a blacked out heap.

 1.3: Play date with Zorikan

    3

    Tension warps around my left shoulder, forcing me into a state of lulling agony. Rough ropes have tied me to a chair, and there¡¯s a black curtain in front of my eyes. There¡¯ s a bag over my head. I can¡¯t breathe properly. The ache is squeezing the left side of my neck. I need my pills. I can¡¯t breathe. The restriction of the ropes makes me convulse with claustrophobia. A headache beyond my adrenaline caused tension is like a spiderweb of pain through my skull, the spider itself drills into my brain at the right side of my forehead where I was knocked.

    A low groan escapes my mouth. I can¡¯t breathe. It aches. I lean my head to the right, in a feeble attempt to stretch my tension coiled neck and shoulder muscles, but it¡¯s fruitless. Too many times have I done that, back when the aches started. My muscles were too flexible to be stretched like that. It provided to relief anymore.

    ¡°Let¡­ me¡­ out¡­¡± I rasp through the pain.

    The bag is pulled off my head, and the light of the room I¡¯m in blinds me, flaring up the pain behind my eyes.

    ¡°Kallix. Kallix look at me.¡±

    A man sits in front of me, on a stool. He¡¯s dark skinned, with patterns shaved into the short cut sides of his hair. The top of his head has six inches of tall, artificially loosed curls. His eyes are pale, like as if he¡¯s blind, yet he looks me straight in the eye. Muscular arms, painted with tattoos protrude from a black vest jacket with the sleeves torn off. He¡¯s got a silver ring dangling from his left earlobe. He wears tight black jeans, with a belt holding all sorts of paraphernalia, all of which I don¡¯t recognize besides a handgun.

    ¡°Where¡¯s my¡­ shit. Give me my stuff,¡± I groan, forcing my head back to try and massage my neck against the edge of the back of the chair. The rolling motion I make aggravates the pain in my forehead.

    ¡°Untie him,¡± the man orders. Gruff hands brush mine as the ropes are pulled from my hands and feet.

    I know better than to make a move. One hand clasps my forehead, while the other cups the left side of my head over my ear so I can dig my thumb into the tight flesh of my neck. ¡°The hell is this?¡± I ask.

    ¡°I¡¯m Zorikan, the leader of the leader of the Swifters. We¡¯re a band of-¡±

    I cut him off. ¡°Yeah, yeah I don¡¯t give a shit. Get me my stuff and then we can talk,¡± I groan.

    The man named Zorikan nods, and I¡¯m the same gruff man who untied me, hands me my pills. Like a starved hyena, I dry swallow two of them, and let out a breath of relief as the pain begins to ebb. ¡°I said all my shit.¡±

    The Ray Bands are tossed into my lap, and I quickly slip them over my red rimmed eyes.

    ¡°Now are we fit to talk?¡± Zorikan asks.

    I shake my head. ¡°Alone.¡±

    Zorikan nods. ¡°Dainin, get out.¡±

    The gruff, bald man ambles out the door and shuts it behind him,

    Zorikan leans forwards. ¡°Do you know why you¡¯re here?¡±

    ¡°No. But I do know that you¡¯re a douchebag. You could¡¯ve just asked to talk with me instead of freaking shooting my brother.¡±

    ¡°You would never have come. You and I both know that.¡±

    There¡¯s a window to my left, ten feet away from me. Zorikan is lean, with the sculpted muscles of an athlete. I¡¯d never be able to take him in a fight. I want to look to the window, but I¡¯m afraid it will give away my intentions. Zorikan¡¯s eyes are glued to mine, as if he¡¯s reaping my soul with his creepy, storm pale eyes. ¡°So, why¡¯ve you brought me here?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re good, Kallix. You¡¯ve got quite the name around here with us Swifters. You¡¯re fast, agile, and resourceful. Exactly what we need. But also, you¡¯re broke. I can change that. We¡¯ve got a job that can get you, me and the whole load of us filthy rich.¡±

    I scoff. ¡°You think I care about your shit? I don¡¯t give a damn! I¡¯ve got a wedding to attend bruv. My schedule is full.¡± I almost laugh.

    ¡°That¡¯s not all. I¡¯ve got another incentive that might just-¡±

    I lash out before he can finish his sentence, landing a sloppy yet effective kick to his chest and sending him bowling over. I pick up my chair and fling it at him, not stopping to look at the results as I slam myself into the window. Luckily, it swings open and I vault out. Unluckily, I¡¯m six stories high. Zorikan is clearly a parkour professional, if not an artist, so he¡¯ll know I¡¯ll be down the building soon. But he doesn¡¯t know that I¡¯m Kallix Rane.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    Before he gets up. I¡¯ve planted my feet on the windowsill, and sprung upwards, hitting my kneecap on the top of the window, and grabbing the edge of the flat roof. I swing myself up, rolling away from the edge and clutching my knee in pain. I don¡¯t have long before he figures out where I¡¯ve gone. The pain starts to subside as I hobble across the roof, covered with water tanks and solar panels, all of which I can use as cover.

    I reach the other side of the roof and gaze at the city beneath me. To my luck, once again, there¡¯s another tall building adjacent. Problem is that it¡¯s two stories shorter.

    I take a few steps back, just as I see Dainin, the bald, bearded bodybuilder, an Asian with a purple mohawk, and Zorikan clamber up top as well. Amateurs. They took the stairs.

    My overflowing adrenaline blankets the pain in my knee as I sprint forwards, then rocket off the edge of the building. Anybody would at least break a leg in this kind of jump. But anybody isn¡¯t Kallix Rane.

    The concrete roof of the building flies towards me as instinct overtakes me, and I let myself fall into the roll I¡¯ve done so many times that it¡¯s more muscle memory than skill. I roll four times before I come to a halt, with ragged breaths and a heart beating faster than a six year old¡¯s on cocaine, and snatch up my shades. I look up with a crooked smile so I can see the looks of amazement on their faces, but to my bewilderment, I see Zorikan and the purple haired Asian launch themselves after me.

    ¡°Shit,¡± I curse, clambering to my feet. As I do it, the protruding bone of my right shoulder screams in pain. It always get¡¯s the brunt of the role. I reroute, barreling across the barren roof, and stealing a glance over my shoulder to see the two of them land with near perfect form, and take off after me. I¡¯m not running away from dumb ass policemen anymore.

    They¡¯re gaining on me as I make the leap from this roof to another, and start weaving between storage containers. I emerge from the other side and dive onto a slanted, shingled roof, letting my feet find leverage in the gutter. I glance back again, and see Zorikan and purple dude running on top of the storage containers, each step clearing the gap, arms out and eyes down with concentration.

    By the time I start scrabbling up the slippery slope, they¡¯re right behind me, almost within grabbing distance. I try to send shingles flying down towards them, but they hold strong. I reach the top of the roof, stand up and start running, balancing precariously on the triangular meeting of the two sides. Zorikan and his accomplice are right behind me now within lunging distance. I hope to trick them by pretending to slip when I could¡¯ve leaped to the next buildings, and sliding down the shingles, but they follow me without missing a beat.

    Zorikan and purple dude, being heavier than me, slide faster, now parallel to me. I think quickly, and just as we¡¯re about to sail off the edge onto the road, I twist and grab the gutter, still two stories above ground. They sail off the edge, landing with perfect rolls, and are facing me from below in an instant. I haul myself back up, and stand on the precarious gutter, grinning from ear to ear. ¡°You couldn¡¯t catch me, you don¡¯t deserve my service, twunts,¡± I call.

    ¡°Kallix wait. I have¡­¡± I lose his voice as the gutter breaks from the roof beneath me. I lung for the shingles, but there¡¯s nothing to hold. I scrabble, but my hands grab at nothing. Then I get my foot makes contact with an open, doorlike window beneath me, keeping me from falling. It¡¯s being held in place by something, otherwise it would¡¯ve swung and I would¡¯ve plummeted. I reach into the open window, letting myself slip on a leap of faith. I grab hold of the side of an open cupboard as my midsection thumps against the metal framing of the window, making me grunt. I haul myself inside the house, and tumble onto a carpeted floor. My hand wraps around my side. I didn¡¯t hear a crack, but it feels like I¡¯ve broken a rib.

    My eyes wildly take in my surroundings. Pink carpet, pink cupboard, pink wallpaper, pink bed, a little girl in a pink nightgown holding a pink teddy bear and staring at me in shock. The amount of pink makes me gag.

    ¡°Hey little twerp,¡± I say, forcing myself to my feet. I pick up the Ray Bands and shove them into my pocket. Can¡¯t afford to lose them.

    The girl¡¯s lip quiver¡¯s as she¡¯s about to scream. I cover her mouth with my dirty hand.

    ¡°Hey. Hey shhhh,¡± I shush desperately. ¡°I¡­ I¡¯m the tooth fairy! Isn¡¯t that exciting.¡±

    ¡°B¡­ but the Toof Fairy already came,¡± she protests. ¡°And you¡¯re too ugly.¡±

    ¡°Ok you got me. I¡¯m her assistant. But I think she didn¡¯t give you enough,¡± I hand the girl one of the crumpled bills in my pocket. ¡°Keep this and go right to bed ok?¡±

    ¡°But it¡¯s seven in the morning! I need to go to school.¡±

    ¡°No. Not if the Tooth Fairy says you don¡¯t,¡± I assure, pulling the blanket aside to let her slide in.

    ¡°Yay! No school!¡±

    I nod and smile, then stagger back to the window. Zorikan will expect me to go out the front door, or at least another window. Not this one.

    I wave the girl goodbye and clamber out the window. I position myself, then spring to the gutter, that¡¯s handing at an awkward angle, grab it, and swing like some sort of city grunge Tarzan into a heap of garbage. I tumble out of the garbage, as a plus sized couple see me and bustle away with pitiful speed.

    I turn to get as far away from the Swifters as possible, when I see purple dude barely ten feet away and looking straight at me.

    ¡°You¡¯re fast,¡± he tells me. ¡°The name¡¯s Deqar, best lock picker in the group.¡±

    ¡°Probably. Zorikan let you go on runs? Even one of them dumb ass policemen would see you from a mile away with that peacock on your head.¡±

    Deqar shrugs, taking a nonchalant step towards me. ¡°But you didn¡¯t. Say, how did you learn to do parkour?¡±

    He¡¯s stalling to wait for Zorikan to get here. I won¡¯t give him the pleasure. Out of the corner of my eye, I see railcar halt at the midsection, and a couple of passengers get on. I need to time this.

    ¡°Needed to run to survive. You?¡±

    ¡°Used to be a petty thief actually. It was like-¡±

    I cut him off when I see the stop light counting down. ¡°Hey you want to see my dick?¡± I ask.

    ¡°The hell?¡± he asks, confused.

    I book it, sprinting like hell as the railcar doors close. I fling myself onto the back, grabbing onto the conductor¡¯s handle as it speeds away.

    I see Deqar behind me, looking exasperated with both middle fingers pointed towards me.

    I let out a laugh of triumph.

 1.4: Here comes the Bride

    4

    I push through the huge green double doors, and stumble into the building. It¡¯s a church. Tauren¡¯s wedding is in a damn church. People are milling around, picking up delicate, painfully small portions of food onto their plates. The large room reverberates with the monotonous sounds of small talk. I push my shades higher up my nose, and amble into the crowd. More people than expected. I don¡¯t like crowds, and my instinct is to cling to the fringes, but my growling stomach overrules. I bustle to the buffet line and grab a plate. My dirty hands make grey smudges against the ivory white. Perhaps the puddle I¡¯d washed them in hadn¡¯t been too clean after all. I load mounds of rice, fries, fish, chicken, gravy and bread buns onto my plate, forming a heap of food that I struggle to balance.

    The people that surround me, dressed like they could be god damned dukes and duchesses, keep a good distance away from me. It makes me smile. At least I don¡¯t have to talk to people I don¡¯t want to. I don¡¯t need to constantly repeat the same, ¡®Hi! How are you? Great! What are you doing now? Really? That¡¯s awesome! How are the kids?¡¯. It¡¯s disgusting. I don¡¯t need to cramp myself into the cage that is formal dresswear. I don¡¯t need to stress about if my suit is perfectly aligned, or frantically fix my hair if there¡¯s a slight gust of wind. They say people are very closely related to chimpanzees, but they all act like freaking sheep. And I¡¯m a dingo.

    ¡°Hey! Kallix freaking Rane is that you?¡± somebody calls. ¡°And wearing a tie?¡± Commenting on my jeans, running shoes, black T-shirt and blue silvery tie look.

    I spin around to see the middle eastern, slim chubby friend of mine. Salif Rastica. ¡°Hey, ye girl stealing twat,¡± I joke, plopping down my plate next to his. He¡¯s sitting alone, to my relief. He¡¯s probably the person I¡¯ve known the longest. He had been my neighbor when I still lived with my parents. ¡°Found this thing in a dumpster. You¡¯d be amazed at what people throw away,¡± I tell him, holding up the tie.

    ¡°How old are you now? Fourteen? Fifteen?¡± he teases.

    ¡°Funny, you don¡¯t look a day over eighty,¡± I scoff, accepting a glass of champagne from a waitress. She gives me a funny look, but I turn away before she can say anything.

    ¡°Hey bro, I¡¯m only four years older than you,¡± Salif tells me, sipping his drink delicately and looking at me with genuine interest.

    ¡°What¡¯d you do to your hair,¡± I ask, grimacing at the gel.

    ¡°What? It¡¯s a formal event you know,¡± he laughs. ¡°Not everybody can pull off then, I¡¯m a mangy escaped zoo lion, kind of look.¡±

    ¡°Is that so,¡± I respond, downing the sparkling contents of my drink. Despite me hatting all things classy, I can¡¯t resist my love for champagne.

    ¡°You supposed to be drinking that?¡± he asks, one thick black eyebrow raised.

    ¡°Says the one who used to take me out drinking when I was twelve.¡±

    ¡°Thirteen,¡± he corrects.

    He¡¯s wrong. I know he¡¯s wrong because I remember my first time like the back of my hand. One explanation. The bastard is a Bansilin junkie.

    Salif laughs. ¡°Good times. Hey what¡¯re you doing now? Still scrounging?¡±

    I nod. ¡°It¡¯s working out for me. Are you still at that nasty office job?¡±

    ¡°Well, it brings food to my table. And into my girlfriend¡¯s belly.¡±

    ¡°You got a girlfriend? What kind of desperate slut would date your slick ass?¡± I laugh.

    ¡°So how do you know Tauren?¡± he asks, forced kindness kindling in his eyes. I may have overstepped.

    I shrug. ¡°We¡¯ve had sex a few times. Known her for a couple of years. We¡¯re kind of like our go to cuddle buddies. Guess it¡¯s over now that she¡¯s married.¡±

    Salif looks disturbed, but the smile remains on his face. ¡°I don¡¯t know how you do it. It¡¯s the old, Kallix magic huh?¡±

    I exhale. ¡°How¡¯s your mom. Still has cancer?¡±

    That was a dumb thing to ask. No, screw him.

    ¡°Well yeah of course,¡± he says, turning to his food. ¡°She¡¯s got two months left.¡±

    ¡°Better hire a couple speedo strippers am I right?¡± I ask, grinning.

    Salif¡¯s smile vanishes.

    Dumbass! How could you say that? He deserved it. Freaking Bansilin junkie!

    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m going check on the others,¡± he says, picking up his plate and drink and moving over to another table.

    I sigh and grab another drink from a waiter. Since when do they even serve drinks at a church?

    I see the small, balding figure of a priest at the head of the church, in front of a massive fake stain glass panel of Jesus being crucified. How do these guys even make a living anymore?The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    A tall, lanky man plops down in the seat next to me as I¡¯m wolfing down my food. He¡¯s got a mop of windswept, flickable, thin, light brown hair, blue eyes and a large nose. ¡°What¡¯s a handsome fellow like you doing around here,¡± he asks, propping his head up with his elbow on the table.

    Gay.

    ¡°Buzz off, queer. I¡¯m straighter than your parents.¡±

    ¡°Actually, my mom left my dad for another girl,¡± he says, taking no offense. ¡°But I¡¯m not hitting on you. Just trying to be nice. But if you change your mind, I won¡¯t tell you off.¡±

    I grunt.

    ¡°Name¡¯s Malyk, and you are?¡±

    ¡°Kallix. Kallix Rane.¡±

    He extends a hand, but I don¡¯t take it.

    ¡°You know Tauren or Wesslin or are you just crashing like that crow dude over there,¡± he asks, pointing to a man who¡¯s flattened black hair, spiking out at the back and pointy nose actually make him look like a crow. I suppress my laugh.

    ¡°Yeah I know Tauren. Vaginally, not personally,¡± I remember her words.

    Instead of being grossed out, Malyk laughs. ¡°Yeah actually that¡¯s how I know Wesslin. We used to be roommates, if you know what I mean. Well actually I was kind of like his two-month house guest. Till I got a job of course. What do you do?¡±

    ¡°Live. Breath. Exist. Drink.¡±

    Malyk laughs again. ¡°Sounds like you¡¯ve got it figured out, bro.¡±

    No snarky remarks about how that wasn¡¯t how things were supposed to be? I¡¯m taken aback. ¡°Really?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. Seems like you¡¯ve managed to dodge the system¡¯s cage. How do you do it? How¡¯re you able to¡­ you know, not starve to death? And of course, hook up with girls like Tauren.¡±

    Kallix shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m quick. I can parkour out of most of my problems. Steal what I need, when I need it. Go wherever the wind takes me. I love it.¡±

    ¡°Damn cool, that is. I tried that after I had a falling out with my parents.¡±

    ¡°Bansilin?¡±

    ¡°No actually. Old school angel dust. PCP. Ever tried?¡±

    Kallix shook his head. ¡°What is it?¡±

    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s like LSD, but you get the real thing. They used to use it to tranquilize elephants and stuff. This Bansilin shit creeps me out.¡±

    Kallix nodded solemnly. ¡°Me too. How can we get some of this Angel shit?¡±

    ¡°Oh, you in? How old are you?¡±

    ¡°Old enough.¡±

    ¡°Alrighty then! I¡¯ll hook you up after this, tiny bro,¡± Malyk laughed, wrapping one of his long arms around my shoulders and shaking me. Despite me wanting to maintain my stone face, a smile crept up my lips.

    Angel Dust. Sounds like something real. At last somebody who isn¡¯t hooked on that damn. The two of them continued to talk, jibe, and make fun of others while the speeches and ceremonies were performed.

    ¡°Everybody shhh!¡± Somebody called. ¡°Here comes the groom!¡±

    A speaker started blearing some sort of church music, as a small, barrel chested man with a handlebar mustache waltzed onto the¡­ stage, for lack of a better word.

    ¡°Who is this guy supposed to be again?¡± Kallix asked.

    ¡°He¡¯s an architect. Like the best architect. He¡¯s like the head of the architects club or something,¡± Malyk joked.

    Kallix laughed again. ¡°Sounds rich.¡±

    ¡°Yeah. But you know what? He¡¯s against Bansilin. Isn¡¯t that great?¡±

    ¡°Shit! One of the last I guess.¡±

    ¡°Totally. He¡¯s using his influence to do whatever he can to stop the crisis.¡±

    ¡°And here comes the bride!¡±

    Everybody (actually) kept quiet, as Tauren made her way up, walking precariously on six-inch heels. I hear the audience gasp at how beautiful she looks.

    It¡¯s true, she is beautiful, when she¡¯s wearing sneakers, jeans and a worn-out T-shirt, with her hair flowing like it does naturally. Not piled on top of her head like a mound of spaghetti! The amount of makeup she¡¯s wearing makes me cringe. She¡¯s got a fine complexion by herself. Now she looks like a damn doll. Her dress is so white and sparkly I¡¯m yearning to spill something on it and pull the stupid pins from her spaghetti bun hair.

    The priest drones on with his monotonously husky voice. Probably a child molester. I¡¯m nodding off by the time I hear the words, ¡°I do,¡± from Wesslin. He sounds as slimy as his name.

    Tauren takes in a deep breath, the chemical cocktail of dopamine, serotonin, oxytocin and endorphin make her pupils dilate and her cheeks flush. ¡°I do,¡± she responds.

    ¡°You may kiss the bride.¡±

    I want to look away, but I don¡¯t. My own cocktail of chemicals rush through me. I¡¯m jealous at the fact that this weasly man is kissing the same lips I¡¯ve kissed. I¡¯m claustrophobic because of all the formality around me, despite being in a T shirt and jeans. I¡¯m relieved that I¡¯ve found another defiance like me. Another stone, peeping out of the gushing, synthetic river of the Bansilin crisis. I¡¯m relieved that Tauren was able to find something that makes her happy. Even better that he¡¯s another stone. The world is starting to separate into two people. The stones, like me, and the stoners, like Salif. I chuckle mentally. Ironically enough, us stones have probably tried more drugs than any of the stoners. I¡¯m bad at naming things.

    ¡°Yeah I¡¯m ditching,¡± I announce to Malyk.

    ¡°You aren¡¯t going to congratulate her?¡±

    ¡°On what? Going to heart and vagina prison? No. I don¡¯t intend to,¡± I scoff, standing up from my chair. I expect all eyes to fly to me, but instead, everybody turns to the door, where a grimy middle-aged man as flung open the doors.

    ¡°Hala!¡± he screams, tripping over his own feet as four more stagger in after him.

    I grit my teeth instantly. It¡¯s not even worth mentioning which drug they¡¯re on anymore. Most people wouldn¡¯t be able to tell, but I¡¯ve been around enough.

    A couple men and women, including Malyk and Salif, make there way to the junkies, who¡¯re hollering, and bellowing random, indecipherable sentences. I turn my chair and put my hands behind my head to watch. I lose the junkies in the crowd of wedding heroes, when suddenly a hear a gunshot. Second time this week. Small and rapid fire. Probably an Uzi.

    Before the first old lady can faint, I¡¯m under the table, crouched like a cat and listening like a bloodhound. I hear somebody tumble to the ground, knocking over a few things. Then all mayhem breaks loose. Damn. This shit follows me everywhere I go now.

    There¡¯s only one gunman, but it¡¯s enough to start milling down the masses of people. I barrel in a low run towards a stain glass panel on the side of the church, checking anybody in my way. As I run, I catch a glimpse of Wesslin and Tauren diving off the stage as bullets shatter the glass Jesus behind them.

    I drop to an army cross between church benches as the wind of a bullet whips past the back of my head. Why can¡¯t I do something without having to parkour my way out? Because then I wouldn¡¯t be doing it in the first place.

    I reach the stained glass window, the tops of the benches have already been splintered. I give a single, strong kick and the lead between the glass quickly caves in. I rip the rest out and dive through, one of the shards tearing a gash in my leg. I land with a sloppy roll.

    A string of hissed curses erupt from my mouth as I run, adrenaline taking my attention away from the five inch tear in my thigh. Bullets splinter the wood of the church, and I fling myself to the ground.

    ¡°Shitshitshitshitshit¡­¡± I mutter, grabbing at grass and pulling myself along. I reach the sidewalk, and see dozens of people fleeing, as well as one of the junkies, standing at the door of the church, doubled over and laughing hysterically. Sick.

    I scramble away down the sidewalk, wrenching my tie off and leaving droplets of blood on the white pavement as I run. There¡¯s no sound of police sirens in the distance.

 1.5: Skyscraper Fun

    5

    Tauren left me at the club. When the cops were chasing us. So it¡¯s ok that I left her here? She probably made it anyway. She¡¯s smart. So did Malyk. Malyk must¡¯ve made it. He¡¯s tall so he¡­ was probably shot first. Plus he went to the front of the group. Dead. Yeah. Probably dead. Salif is a piece of¡­ he¡¯s my friend. Stoner or not he¡¯s been my friend for years. It hurts. I already took my damn meds. Why the hell does it still hurt? Tauren left me it. It wasn¡¯t my wrongdoing. She chose that weasel over me. The good weasel. The one who would¡¯ve treated her better than I would¡¯ve. Stupid piece of shit. You just want her damn tits and long legs. You¡¯re a real dick brained piece of shit you know that?

    ¡°Are you ok?¡± a scantily dressed woman asks. She leans over me, lying in the street drainage, hands behind my head like as if I¡¯m on a beach bed. She¡¯s wearing a skirt that barely covers her thighs and a tank top. She¡¯s old, with her skin surgically pulled back, and her pink lips look inflated. Despite her hefty assets, jiggling above me, I feel like throwing up. Too much plastic. Too damn fake.

    ¡°Screw off, shit fly,¡± I tell her.

    ¡°You sure?¡± she asks, letting one of her shirt sleeves fall off her shoulder. Damn hooker.

    ¡°You want to suck me off for free?¡±

    ¡°I am dirt cheap.¡±

    ¡°I haven¡¯t got shit. Get out of my view, grandma,¡± I hiss.

    ¡°Fine. Your loss,¡± she says. ¡°But if you change your mind, 124<sup>th</sup> Alden block,¡± she whispers.

    I show her my middle finger. After I¡¯m sure her, middle-aged surgically held together face is gone for good, I heave myself from the trench and beat my fist into the left side of my neck. When did I take my meds last? When did I get laid last? Oh right, I don¡¯t remember.

    Tauren probably does. Salif probably does. Because they¡¯re your friends and they know you. No, they don¡¯t. Salif¡¯s a damn piece of shit, just like me. But he didn¡¯t leave Tauren to be shot on her wedding day. Screw it.

    I amble onto the road, a drenched rat crawling out of the sewer. A victorious warrior returning from battle. I¡¯m glad I still have my Ray Bands so the sun doesn¡¯t aggravate my ache. I¡¯m not hungover. I had nothing to drink. I bounce on the balls of my feet, my legs yearning to run like a wolf in captivity. My mind is a spiderweb after a downpour. Sodden and heavy.

    Malyk probably went to help. He probably died too. Good thing I¡¯m alive at least. Maybe if I¡¯d gone back, they wouldn¡¯t be dead. Maybe I¡¯d be dead as well. Maybe that would be better. Maybe I would be dead and they wouldn¡¯t be. No. Better I live than them. Right? Wrong.

    I need to calm down. I need to breath. My pills clatter within their container, snuggled in my pocket as I walk. Another one would definitely get rid of the tension. I¡¯d be able to think without the constant throbbing down my left side.

    I dig my thumb into my neck, pressing the knuckle in deep. You killed Tauren. You killed Salif. You killed Malyk. I tilt my head back. I don¡¯t want them to come. I don¡¯t want my eyes to run wet with misery. I push the shades higher up the bridge of my nose. Interesting fact about the human body: you can¡¯t cry when jacked up on adrenaline.

    I spring upwards, wrapping my right arm around a low hanging bar. I use my core to swing my legs up onto the canvas cover of a closed open-air restaurant. I scramble up, feeling the canvas dip under my weight, and look up. A wave of excitement passes over me as I see the seemingly daunting skyscraper before me, narrowing towards the top. I start.

    Leap. Gasp. Haul. Grunt. Scrabble. Pull.

    Leap. Gasp. Haul. Grunt. Scrabble. Pull.

    Leap. Gasp. Haul. Grunt. Scrabble. Pull.

    My muscles burn, my hands callous, but my mind clears. The higher it gets, the harder it becomes.

    I¡¯m standing with half of one shoe on the tiny end of a metal rod, peeping out of the building. The wall in front of me is curved and slanted, like a sleek cone. I lean heavily against it, spreading my arms as far as they can go to give me some form of miniscule stability, while my other leg wavers in the air, no foothold to rest on. It¡¯s like trying to huge a massive cylindrical water tank.

    The drop beneath me is over three hundred feet and there¡¯s a mere, three-inch piece of metal between me and it. My hands move up and down like as if I¡¯m making a snow angel, searching for anything to grab. There¡¯s nothing but smooth, cold, curved metal. The wind is starting to pick up, and no matter how much I squeeze, I¡¯ve got little to nothing stopping me from plummeting to the ground. I tilt my head upwards, so my chin rests on the metal surface. There¡¯s a protruding ring of metal, circling the narrower section above me.

    I lower myself in a one-legged squat, my other leg stretching far to the right like I¡¯m some sort of a ballet dancer. I clench the burning thigh muscles in my left leg, and steady myself with my spread-out arms as the strong winds try to sway me. The slightest loss of balance, and I¡¯m a big bird shit.

    A moment of stillness, and I seize the chance, snapping my leg straight and jumping up, a quick upwards slide on the smooth metal. My outstretched hand grabs the metal bar with part of two fingers. Quickly, my other hand flies to it, gripping it with all my strength, and allowing my first hand to get a better hold. I hang there, the recognition of monkey bars flashing through my mind like a child, flipping through the channels of a nostalgia TV. Except I¡¯m not nostalgic. I don¡¯t miss my time as a caged zoo animal, living a life of forced conformity.

    I do a pull up, and see that there is a level section, like somebody has sliced the top off the cone. I scrabble up and lie, legs dangling over the edge, starring at the grey sky. A storm held at bay like a boy holding back his tears. My heart races. A drum in my ears. My forehead drips sweat. My left calf twitches with overstrain. I feel alive. I feel free.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

    I roll onto my stomach, and stand up, seeing an enclosed, tower, with a ladder going straight up. I start. Rung after rung I climb, until I emerge through onto a stark floor. I get up, and I¡¯m in a small dusty, cobwebbed room, with no furniture, and floor to ceiling windows. I gawk at the view before me. This is the tallest building for miles. The city sprawls before me like grey LEGOs. It pains me how mundane it is. How rectangular. Who said buildings need to be rectangular? Why the hell can¡¯t a house be shaped like a pear? Or a bear? Or my dick? If I build a house, it¡¯ll be shaped like my dick.

    I open the latch on one of the windows, and let it swing open, then stick my head out, enjoying the wind blasting in my face. I turn and grip the top of the room. A little, flat roof and pull myself up. It¡¯s a small, space, the same as the room, with a tall copper lightning rod standing stoic against the wind. Leaning against it, back to me, if the unmistakable figure of a feminine Homo Sapien.

    She looks over her shoulder, then jolts when she sees me. ¡°What the hell!¡± she cries in alarm. A cat being spooked.

    I nod at her quizzically. ¡°What the hell yourself.¡±

    She¡¯s got tan skin, with defined cheekbones, dark brown hair tucked into her hood and brilliant blue eyes. I grab the lightning rod, so I¡¯m not blown off by the wind. She¡¯s probably a year or two older than me. She has almond like eyes, telling me that she¡¯s got of mixed descent, and the epitome of kiss able lips. She wears dirty, grey hoodie and dark grey sweatpants, with black sneakers.

    ¡°W¡­ what are you¡­¡± she stutters. ¡°How the hell did you get up here.¡±

    ¡°I climbed,¡± I tell her slowly.

    She nods, wearily. Then, she scoots up, and pats the space next to her. I take a seat next to her, folding my arms over my bare chest. ¡°You cold?¡± she asks.

    ¡°Freezing,¡± I reply.

    She unzips her sweater, revealing a burgundy T Shirt that says: Screw you I¡¯m cool. Something I would wear. She slips the hoodie off and hands it to me. I consider refusing the offer, but the sweat freezing on my skin makes me accept it.

    ¡°D¡¯you have a name?¡±

    I nod. ¡°Kallix. Kallix Rane.¡±

    She looks taken aback.

    ¡°What?¡± I ask with a lopsided smile. ¡°Heard of me?¡±

    She nods, slowly. ¡°You don¡¯t live up to the legends.¡±

    ¡°Legends?¡±

    ¡°People talk.¡±

    ¡°And you are?¡±

    ¡°Rieka.¡±

    ¡°Why are you up here?¡± I ask her, genuinely interested but staring off into the distance as if I¡¯m not.

    ¡°I come up here a lot. Usually to clear my head. Never seen anybody else up here before, but I¡¯m not surprised. You are Kallix Rane, after all.¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­ that¡¯s actually why I came up here right now.¡±

    She laughs. A cute laugh. ¡°What does Kallix Rane have to clear his mind about?¡±

    I sigh. ¡°A lot of messed up shit.¡±

    She raises an eyebrow and turns to me. ¡°Wanna talk about it?¡±

    She¡¯s got smaller tits than Tauren, but so do ninety percent of girls. She¡¯s thin framed, but not frail. Her hips are cute. Pound-able. Her legs aren¡¯t as long as Tauren¡¯s¡­. stop. Stop freaking comparing her to the girl you left for dead. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up shut up shutup shutup shutup shutupshutupshutupshutup!

    ¡°Hello?¡± she asks. She folds her arms over her chest uncomfortably.

    ¡°Sorry. Um¡­¡±

    ¡°What happened?¡± she asks, leaning towards me a laying a hand on my shoulder.

    Her eyes are hypnotic. Bluer than the sky. Bluer than the ocean. ¡°I¡­ left a friend.¡± I don¡¯t know why, but I tell her.

    She shifts she she¡¯s sitting with one leg folded in front of her, facing me. ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t¡­ I¡­ to save my own skin.¡± I struggle to speak.

    Her hand slides down, off the open hoodie and onto my bare chest. It passes over my nipple and gives me chills. ¡°Did your friend die?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I sigh. I can¡¯t pull myself away from her beautiful blue eyes. I want so desperately to open her legs and thrust into her. Have her suck me off while I stare into her oceans. The whirlpool of emotions inside me intensifies, making my right hand twitch.

    ¡°Do you want me to help you feel better about it?¡± she asks, reaching over to take off my sunglasses.

    I push her hand away, and force the sunglasses back on, scrambling away from her. I lean against the lightning rod, my breaths coming in rasps. She presses herself behind me, her soft lips pressing against my neck.

    I give in as she turns me around. I wrap my arms around her and pull her close, kissing her with everything inside me. The wind picks up around us. I kiss her with ferocity. I kiss her with hunger. I let my lust free as my hands slide over her body. I grab her thigh and lift her leg up my side.

    Interesting fact about the human body: You can¡¯t cry when aroused.

    She breaks from my lips and moves down my neck. She kisses each nipple, then moves down my stomach, my belly button, then unzips my fly. My head lolls back as she takes me in. Her slow, rhythmic movement makes me want to explode. I stare up at the stormy sky, as a light drizzle falls over us, but she only goes harder, stronger, faster, deeper.

    I moan, one hand on the lightning rod to steady myself, the other on her head, tangled in her hair. My breaths become shorter as she speeds up, and the world drains away around me. The wind on my chest. My eyes locked with her ravenously hypnotic ones. Her mouth and tongue rasping over me perfectly. It¡¯s too much. I can¡¯t contain myself. Rarely am I ever the first to finish, but I can¡¯t stop myself as I explode and a faint noise escapes me. All my turmoil. All my emotions shoot out of me. Rieka liberates me from the thick, blinding fog that had clung to me. I¡¯m free.

    I gasp, slumping down against the lightning rod as aftershocks and relaxation overflow me. Rieka smiles, and sits down next to me. She intertwines her hand with mine.

    ¡°Pretty good, right?¡±

    All I can do is nod.

    She laughs. ¡°I can¡¯t wait to tell my friends that I sucked off the famous Kallix Rane.¡±

    I smile. Butterflies flutter in my stomach. ¡°How¡­ how did you do that?¡± I gasp.

    ¡°Little secret I learnt on the road. Want to learn how so you can impress somebody later?¡±

    I grunt.

    She laughs, then sighs, placing her head on my shoulder.

    ¡°We should¡­ do that more often,¡± I tell her.

    ¡°Sure. Wait, are you asking my to be your girlfriend?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t do that whole¡­ girlfriend thing.¡±

    ¡°Why not? It¡¯ll be fun!¡±

    I shake my head. ¡°Commitment is stressful. But we should definitely do that again.¡±

    ¡°You should come stay with me,¡± she offers.

    I don¡¯t respond.

    ¡°C¡¯mon. You¡¯re good at parkour. I¡¯m sure you¡¯d be given a position.¡±

    ¡°What? Wait. You don¡¯t¡­¡±

    She looks at me confused.

    ¡°Do you work for Zorikan?¡± I ask her.

    ¡°Um. Yeah. How the hell did you know that?¡±

    ¡°Get away from me,¡± I rasp, scrambling out of her grasp.

    ¡°What? What did I do?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t freaking talk to me. Don¡¯t contact me. Don¡¯t come and find me,¡± I tell her, swinging down into the little room. Fluidly, she comes down after me.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong Kallix? What do you have against Zorikan.¡±

    I stop, spin, grab her wrists and pin them to the wall.

    Her eyes to wide with fear.

    ¡°Don¡¯t¡­ talk¡­ to¡­ me,¡± I tell her.

    She kicks off the wall, sweeps my legs from beneath me, making me flop to the ground. Her knees pin my wrists as she sits on my midsection. Ordinarily, I would be harder than the metal beneath me, but my mind is clear and my adrenaline is surging. ¡°Hey. What¡¯s your problem?¡± she asks. ¡°You¡¯re good. We could use you on the team.¡±

    ¡°Get off me,¡± I tell her through gritted teeth.

    ¡°Why? You don¡¯t like it?¡± she asks, her white teeth flashing in a smile as she starts to ride me.

    I can feel my sexual tensions boiling up again. I need to do something.

    ¡°Next time I¡¯ll expect something in return,¡± she tells me. ¡°Don¡¯t think this is a one-way thing.¡±

    I pull up my leg and hook my calf around her neck, slamming her down onto the floor, then roll to my feet and slide down the ladder. She yelps in pain, but is on her feet like a cat.

    ¡°I¡¯m not going to chase you,¡± she calls after me, as I make my way to the cone like section of the building. ¡°Would¡¯ve just been nice to have you around, you know.¡±

    I slide down, dropping down ten feet with a roll, before continuing downwards. I need to get away. I need to get away as fast as possible.

 1.6: Hospitals are glorified Prisons

    6

    I¡¯d forgotten about the gash in my thigh. The adrenaline rush of climbing the skyscraper, mixed with the dopamine surge of getting the best head in my life proved to be better than alcohol at getting me to forget my pain. My jeans are painted a dark crimson from the blood crusted over them, and it itches and pulls as I walk. I stuffed my face not too long ago, yet I feel lightheaded. Blood loss.

    As I amble down the street, I pop a pill, easing the rebuilding tension.

    ¡°Are you¡­ ok, kid?¡± a man in a blue suit asks.

    ¡°Never better,¡± I mumble, sliding past him. I veer into an alleyway, and to my luck, find a dumpster. My mouth smacks with thirst, and my arms struggle to life the heavy lid up. I let myself flop inside.

    Something squelches beneath me as I sit up, rummaging and tossing the assorted junk around. I find a bright pink sweater and tie it around my leg. That should do something, right? Stop the blood flow?

    As I tighten it, I feel the scab tear open with an itchy pain, and warm blood begins to collect in the sweater. Shit. My tongue moves around my dry mouth, as if searching for moisture. My eyelids flutter closed for a moment, as a wave of light headedness washes over me. I grasp a bottle. Juice? Liquor? Not sure.

    I put the warm, sticky liquid to my lips and glug it gratefully. Whatever it is, it¡¯s sickly sweet and makes me want to hurl. Time to go.

    My hand clutches the edge of the dumpster, and I move to pull myself out, but I¡¯ve got no strength, and it falls back to my side. I groan and place a hand the side of my head to stop my mind from spinning. I fall to the side, in a soft bed of assorted trash.

    ~

    I don¡¯t feel hungover. I don¡¯t feel sick. I don¡¯t feel weak. I don¡¯t feel good. I don¡¯t feel relieved. I don¡¯t feel like shit. I feel sterile. My eyes open, and I¡¯m hit by a blinding, cold white tube light. My shades where are my shades?

    As my vision adjusts, I see a blank white sheet draped over me, with my injured leg strung up by the ankle. A thick, white gauze bandage is wrapped around my thigh, with a small cat pupil shaped puddle of brown seeping through it.

    I¡¯m in a damn hospital room. There¡¯s a window to my left, where I can see pedestrians going about their ant lives, a beige sessel in the corner, where a visitor who doesn¡¯t want to be here but knows they have to in order to keep the benefits of being your friend can come and sit. A freshly potted plant next to it. A spec of organic life in a sea of artificial constructions. I try sit up, but it¡¯s difficult with my leg stretched into the air. I yank it away from the sling, making the contraption holding the fabric tip and fall with a clatter beside the bed.

    The door is opened and an Asian man in a tell-tale white doctors coat walks in. He¡¯s got a wide, mustache and goatee and large glasses perched on the bride of his nose.

    ¡°Good morning, mister Rane.¡±

    ¡°Where am I? How do you know me?¡± I demand, scrabbling into the corner of the bed. My voice is hoarse with dehydration.

    ¡°You need to drink,¡± he tells me calmly, a large glass of water is held in his left hand. He offers it to me.

    I pause for a moment, then take it, quickly glugging it down in a matter of seconds, then letting the glass fall from my hands and onto the tiled floor. I would¡¯ve hoped that it would shatter, but it bounces once, and rolls to his feet. He picks it up and sets it on the table next to the potted plant.

    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t be moving your leg much. You might open the stitches.¡±

    I look around wildly for anything that I could use as a weapon, but nothing is within reach.

    ¡°You were found in a dumpster, Kallix,¡± the doctor tells me, sitting down next to me. ¡°An old lady law you and called the police. They brought you here and we stitched you up.¡±

    I press myself against the bedframe, breathing heavily through my mouth. The cops? They must know me. They¡¯re going to arrest me. The window is locked and will be difficult to break. I won¡¯t be able to make a move without mister doctor stopping me.

    ¡°My name is doctor Halkalagy, but you can call me Halk.¡±

    ¡°Let me go,¡± I tell him.

    He shakes his head slowly. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Kallix. The police want to talk to you. You have dozens of petty crimes on your record.¡±

    I¡¯m about to lunge at him, punch his face, break his glasses and make a run for it, when he speaks again.

    ¡°But not now. First, there¡¯s something more important you need to do.¡±

    I eye him skeptically, arms tense.

    ¡°Your brother, Kaloaan. Chief of police force was shot the other day.¡±

    ¡°Is¡­ is he ok?¡± I ask.

    Halk nods. ¡°He¡¯s already undergone surgery and will be back in the field in a week or so. He wants to see you.¡±

    Kaloaan is alive. That¡¯s¡­ nice. Is this a trap though? Seems like something a conniving doctor would think of. But he¡¯s probably too dumb to plan something like that.

    I nod. ¡°Alright. But I need my stuff.¡±

    ¡°You will have your possessions in good time, Mr Rane. But first come, he is very eager.¡±

    ¡°I swear if this is a trick, I¡¯ll rip off your ears and shove them up your ass, then make you suck me off in front of your co-workers. Is that a deal?¡±

    Halk gives an uncomfortable not and offers me a hand to stand up. I swat it away.

    He guides me down a flight of stairs, down a long, coldly lit hallway with countless metal doors with doctors and nurses rushing in and out of. Occasionally, somebody is rolled by on one of those rolling bed thingies. Eventually, Halk opens a door and steps aside to allow me in. He closes the door behind me.

    Kaloaan lies in a much larger room than me, with an entire sitting arrangement of sessels, chairs and tables for his friends to visit him. He¡¯s propped up by half a dozen pillows and a blanket pulled up to his waist. My nose twitches at the smell of a trey of uneaten food that remains at his side table, still steaming.

    ¡°You going to eat that?¡± I ask, waking him up.

    ¡°Hey, little bro. How¡¯re you doing?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not the one who should be asking that,¡± I mumble, picking up the plate of rice, chicken and gravy. I chow into it with a plastic fork.

    ¡°Doctor said I¡¯m unbelievably lucky. They removed the bullet from my side and stitched up the section of my intestines that it hit. They say I¡¯m going to be back on the field in less than two weeks.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s nice,¡± I say between mouthfuls.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡°Firida, my deputy is covering for me while I¡¯m out. Good girl she is. I¡¯m thinking of making a move some day, if you know what I mean,¡± he chuckles with the lopsided smile that I hate to share. It¡¯s my trademark. Nobody else should have it.

    When I don¡¯t say anything he asks, ¡°You didn¡¯t do any, right? You wouldn¡¯t.¡±

    I shake my head. ¡°If I had that shit in me, I¡¯d be in the psychiatric ward right now, not talking to you.¡±

    ¡°Good¡­ good. The shooter. Did you see who they were?¡±

    I nod slowly, an image of Zorikan flashing through my mind. His tattooed neck, the silver ring in his left ear, his oddly pale eyes, his freshly cut, tall hair. ¡°I don¡¯t know exactly, but whoever it was, they¡¯ve got something to do with a bastard shithole named Zorikan.¡±

    ¡°Zorikan? Never heard of him. Is he some sort of underground Bansilin dealer?¡±

    I shake my head. ¡°Not really sure. He¡¯s the leader of a group called the Swifters. I don¡¯t know for certain what they do. He wanted to recruit me. Busted out before he could sell me any of his gay propaganda.¡±

    Kaloaan laughs. I remain stone faced. ¡°Do you know where they are? Maybe we can find out.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, but it¡¯d be pointless to go to them. You wouldn¡¯t catch them. They¡¯re almost if not as fast as me.¡±

    ¡°They chased you?¡± he asks, frowning with concern.

    ¡°For a little bit.¡±

    He nods again.

    ¡°Was that why you called me here?¡±

    ¡°No, actually. I want you to go check on mum. If you can. She¡­ hasn¡¯t come to visit me, and I¡¯m a little worried. We haven¡¯t found a single trace of dad yet. With all this Bansilin stuff, I can¡¯t concentrate properly¡­¡±

    Silence.

    ¡°You know I haven¡¯t spoken to her in two years, right?¡±

    He nods. ¡°That¡¯s why it would be good if you could go. It would mean the world to her.¡±

    I year so desperately to tell him the truth, that his mother is hooked on the very thing he swore to destroy, but I can¡¯t bring myself to. He looks at me pleadingly. It hurts me.

    ¡°Ok,¡± I breath. ¡°I¡¯ll check on her.¡±

    He sighs in relief. ¡°Thanks, little bro. I knew I could count on you.¡±

    ¡°Cut the crap Kalo,¡± I snap, wolfing down the last of his lunch. ¡°And grow a beard for christ¡¯s sake you look like a school-boy.¡±

    I exit the room and close the door before he can respond, but I¡¯m stopped by Dr Halkalagee¡¯s hand on my shoulder. Two police officers stand behind him. One is big and burly, while the other is a stone faced, fit woman in her early thirties, with discipline in her eyes and her hair pulled back in a tight pony tail. The name on her uniform reads Firida.

    ¡°Funny. I was just on my way to see the chief, and I stumble upon his little brother. The rat¡¯s come out of the sewers.¡±

    ¡°Yeah and the rat¡¯s going to make love to your sister,¡± I spit.

    She gives a forced smile, then brushes past me into my brothers room. The burly officer named Grell, grabs me by the hood of Rieka¡¯s hoodie and yanks me along. I keep my arms deep in the sleeves of the open hoodie. If he¡¯s holding me by the hood, I can slip out and make my escape. Not yet. I need my stuff.

    They bring me to a room on the ground floor with a long ovular table and multiple spinning chairs around it. Must be some sort of doctor cult conference room or something. Halk gives me a feeble wave and bustles off. Grell sits me down on one chair, then sits across from me, placing his gun on the table and folding his hands next to it. He says nothing, just stares at me.

    ¡°So how long is this little tea party going to take?¡± I ask, propping my feet up on the policed wood.

    Grell doesn¡¯t reply, but stares at me with shark eyes.

    ¡°Not much of a talker, huh? I ask. ¡°Does Firidah allow you to speak? Or is the collar too tight.¡±

    Grell is silent, but the veins on his neck bulge intimidatingly.

    ¡°Nice veins,¡± I comment. ¡°Are they real? Can I touch them?¡± I lean over, reaching for his neck.

    With lightning speed, he¡¯s caught by my wrist and slammed my hand onto the table. I stare at him with shock.

    The door opens and Firidah walks in, sitting down next to Grell. ¡°Release him,¡± she instructs.

    He responds autonomously, and I recoil, hugging my bruised wrist to my chest. ¡°Kallix Rane,¡± Firidah declares, too loud for my liking.

    ¡°I¡¯ve heard of him,¡± I tell her.

    ¡°Do you know how many times you¡¯ve been reported? Graffiti, theft, arson, the list goes on forever.¡±

    ¡°Is my brother shagging you yet? Because your pussy needs to loosen up,¡± I spit.

    She takes no notice of the insult. From her breast pocket, she pulls my Ray Bands, and slides them over to me. ¡°Stolen, I presume, but we¡¯ve got no evidence.¡±

    I snatch them up and prop them on.

    Then she pulls out the little cylindrical container and sets it on the table with a sly grin.

    ¡°Give me those,¡± I demand.

    She chews the inside of her cheek as if deciding how to torture me. ¡°Did you pay for them?¡±

    I don¡¯t respond.

    ¡°Then they aren¡¯t yours,¡± she says, delighted.

    I stand up. She flinches.

    ¡°Fortunately for your rag tag ass, your brother has a heart, unlike you.¡±

    She opens the lid, and from a plastic bag, pours in more of the pills.

    ¡°He paid off the six containers you stole previously, as well as this one, including the bail money for all the crimes you¡¯ve been proven guilty of with evidence, and all the lawsuits filed against you. He¡¯s paid for the next twenty top ups of your medicine. All you need to do is show up at a pharmacy and sign for it.¡±

    ¡°Give it to me,¡± I demand again.

    She nods and slides it over to me. I unscrew the top and swallow one pill before burying it in my pocket. ¡°Now get out of here you piece of shit, before somebody decides to contradict the chief.¡±

    I stand and make for the door. As I¡¯m about to leave, I turn over my shoulder. ¡°You¡¯ve got nice tits, but they can¡¯t warm your stone heart,¡± I jibe. Before she can stand, I¡¯m gone.

    I slam the door shut behind me before he can respond and start on my way. Whether it¡¯s to go see my mother or not, I don¡¯t know.

    ~

    I know where her apartment is. My parents were able to move to the rich sector when Kaloaan got promoted. They had mundane boring jobs like¡­. Accountants or income tax managers or something like that, but they lived in third floor of the same apartment that the President¡¯s uncle lives in. Must mean something. The sun starts to set, and I break into a jog. As I¡¯m running through the crepuscular road, somebody calls my name. I halt and look around, to see a man in a trench coat and a flat cap hustling across the street. He wears skater shoes and baggy jeans two sizes too big for him. I know that style.

    ¡°What do you want, Salif,¡± I ask.

    He reaches me and looks me up and down, then shows me the middle finger. ¡°You¡¯re a real piece of shit, you know that?¡±

    I nod and move to walk away, when he grabs me by the shoulder and turns me back to him.

    ¡°She could¡¯ve died,¡± he hisses.

    ¡°She¡¯s alive?¡±

    ¡°Yeah she¡¯s god damn alive!¡±

    ¡°Thank god,¡± I breath.

    ¡°No thanks to your cowardly, selfish ass,¡± he spits. ¡°She¡¯s lucky to be alive.

    ¡°Wh¡­ what happened?¡±

    ¡°You mean after you got your own cowardly ass the hell away from there?¡±

    I nod. Fire burns in my eyes. ¡°What happened?¡± I ask again.

    ¡°Malyk. You¡¯re little queer friend? Ring a bell? Yeah, you left him to die as well.¡±

    ¡°He was shot?¡±

    ¡°No, dumbass. He saved everybody¡¯s lives! Snuck up around the shooter and tackled him from behind.¡±

    ¡°So¡­ everybody made it out alive?¡±

    ¡°No. People died. Not that you would care.¡±

    ¡°Salif¡­ stop. You¡¯re my friend.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not your friend. Friendship means nothing to you rotten soul. You don¡¯t give a damn about anybody but yourself.¡±

    ¡°Salif, this is a messed up city. People do what they have to in order to-¡±

    ¡°Shut up. Just shut up. Stop trying to defend yourself. Doing what you have to is different from leaving your¡­ your friends,¡± Salif¡¯s voice has gone hoarse. ¡°You insult me, you make fun of my mom, you leave me to freaking die¡­¡±

    ¡°Would you have come back for me?¡± I ask. My mouth is a tight line, and my shades protect my eyes from his teary glare.

    ¡°I would¡¯ve, back then¡­ but not now. I¡¯d leave you to burn Kallix. You deserve nothing better. I was all you had. Me and your cop brother. I don¡¯t know how that guy puts up with you.¡±

    I cover my ears as he rattles on. ¡°Stop,¡± I tell him, weak voiced.

    ¡°No. No I won¡¯t stop. You should know that you¡¯re every word that comes out of my mouth,¡± he spits.

    I can¡¯t. I can¡¯t take it. I turn, and walk away with long stiff strides.

    ¡°Yeah run away you bastard! Because that¡¯s what you do! That¡¯s all you ever do! Run. Run like the little pussy you are!¡±

    I don¡¯t hear the rest as I walk around my parent¡¯s hotel apartment, and start to climb. I hoist myself up, nook after cranny I move like a spider on the wall while Salif walks away, fuming. I pause when I reach the window. My destination.

    It¡¯s slightly ajar, letting out the smell of pinecones, my mothers favorite. I hear her music, slow and classical playing softly in another room. As I cling outside the window, through the gap in the curtains I see the fake leather couch arrangement, the duvet, tossed and crumpled over the three seater. A half eaten bowl of assorted dried snacks remains on the glass coffee table next to the remote. The TV is on but muted with the breaking news blaring on the screen. My mom walks in from the kitchen to look at the news. She¡¯s whisking something in a wooden bowl, clutched in the crook of her arm. She always loved the smell and feel of wood, even though nobody used it anymore.

    The sweet smell of Rieka¡¯s hoodie intertwines with the nostalgic one of the apartment.

    My mom is short, with caramel colored hair that falls to her shoulders. Her skin is slightly wrinkled at the eyes and dappled with years of being out in the sun. She wears a large red synthetic fleece pullover with bright yellow stars, pale jeans and soft, indoor boots.

    I sigh, and pull the window open, ever so slightly, taking in the waft of warmth. She sets the bowl down on the coffee table, picks up the remote and switches the channel a few times.

    I slide my head through the ajar window, keeping as quiet as possible.

    She exhales loudly through her nose and turns the TV off, taking a seat on the couch.

    I pull the rest of myself through, now perching on the windowsill like a crow.

    She rolls up her sleeve and turns away from me.

    I step down onto the ground.

    She sticks the needle into her arm, and her eyes nearly roll up into her head as her shoulders roll and her legs shake with pleasure.

    I stand there, gazing at my mother injecting herself with Bansilin. She smiles for a brief moment, then pulls out the needle and rolls onto her side. I silently pad over to her.

    She¡¯s closed her eyes, and pulled the duvet over herself, and starts to shudder. I lean over and see the tears dripping down her nose and forming a puddle on the leather.

 1.7: Overdose

    7

    I see her in the distance. An otter weaving through icebergs. The wind rustles my hair, but my shades protect it from stinging my red rimmed eyes. I am a raven, soaring above her. Watching her from afar.

    The way Rieka moves is angelic. She is as good at being swift as Tauren is at singing. She weaves and ducks through the mob of people, her hood pulled well over her so nobody thinks twice. A girl in a hoodie. Nothing more. No reason to be suspicious. No reason for your eyes to linger on her for more than a second. Unless your me. Unless you know who she is.

    Rieka stops and glances over her shoulder as if she knows she¡¯s being watched. She doesn¡¯t know that the watcher is above her. She makes a hand signal, so quick I almost don¡¯t catch it, and so inconspicuous that you would think she was brushing a fly from her forehead. My eyes dart around for the recipient, and I see a short man, covered in a cowl, with bits of ginger hair peeking out from the front. He imitates the hand signal without skipping a beat. Another Swifter. It must be.

    Rieka changes direction, heading towards a massive store called Hubaricker¡¯s. A sports store. The second Swifter stops and glances at his watch as Rieka disappears inside the store.

    I¡¯m perched atop one of the mega strip mall stores, on a vast bare grey expanse of roof. The sky is heavy with clouds. A storm is brewing.

    The ginger slings his bag off and pulls out an empty glass bottle, then tucks in up his shirt. I watch as he treads through the river of people, moving like the wildebeest migration I¡¯d watched on a documentary many years ago, towards the store I¡¯m perched above. He pulls the bottle from his shirt and hurls it at the store. I hear it shatter against the glass as a siren blares and people scream. I duck down behind a stack of plastic billboards, and peer between them.

    The Swifter is sprinting away, vaulting over benches and cars while two mall cops in beige uniforms chase after him. I¡¯m confused. The ginger delves down a staircase out of my line of sight. A ground hog into its burrow. Not a minute later, another siren rings and I see Rieka barreling out of Hubaricker¡¯s with a full backpack and a duffle-bag slung over her shoulder. There¡¯re no cops to pursue her, only shrieking pedestrians to dive out of her way as she runs.

    She runs like a saddled cheetah, up to the shop next to the one I¡¯m on, and despite her load swiftly parkours up like a cat, then scrambles to the nearest cover. Which just so happens to be the stack of billboards I¡¯m behind.

    She drops to her knees and lets her loot fall from her shoulders, panting but grinning. ¡°Hey.¡±

    I¡¯m on my feet. ¡°Hey,¡± I nod.

    She laughs. ¡°Why do you look like you¡¯ve seen a ghost?¡± She asks, slumping against the jam-packed duffle-bag.

    I open my mouth to speak but now words come out.

    ¡°Oh, chill out,¡± she says, exasperated. ¡°Her you want something?¡± She asks, unzipping the bag.

    ¡°W¡­what did you¡­steal?¡± I stutter.

    ¡°Just a couple of supplies. Flash lights, batteries, gloves, water bottles, the usual. Hubaricker¡¯s has been our target twice already. They really need to get better security around here.¡±

    I don¡¯t respond.

    ¡°Can you chill?¡± she asks. ¡°I¡¯m not going to hijack you and force you to work for Zorikan. Here,¡± she leans over and rummages through the bag, pulling out an energy drink and tossing it to me. I catch it unintentionally.

    ¡°Drink up. You¡¯re going to have to if¡­ hey, what happened to your leg?¡± she asks.

    I glance down. I¡¯ve already ripped off the bandage, but through the tear in my jeans you can see the ugly line of stitches.

    ¡°That looks bad, but somebody fixed you up real good. Who was it?¡±

    I don¡¯t know why I can¡¯t speak. Nobody has ever taken my words from me. They¡¯re my strongest weapon. The flame of my defiance. I¡¯ve been stripped of them.

    ¡°Cat¡¯s got your tongue,¡± she sighs, leaning back down. The walkie talkie at her hip buzzes and she puts it to her ear.

    ¡°Rieka do you copy? Rieka do you copy? Over.¡± A voice buzzes.

    ¡°Yeah, I copy, Varan.¡±

    ¡°Say over when you¡¯re done talking so I know when you¡¯re done talking. Over,¡± Varan hisses.

    ¡°Ugh, you¡¯re such a dweeb, you know¡­ over.¡±

    ¡°Thank you. Did you get the stuff? Over.¡±

    ¡°Yeah. Got it all. Did you want a sandwich though? Fries too?¡±

    ¡°Shut up. You should get back soon. Deqar just radioed me. We¡¯re ordering pizza for dinner. Dining off the spoils of last night¡¯s hunt.¡±

    ¡°Hunt?¡±

    ¡°Raid. Robbery. Hunt, whatever.¡±

    ¡°Varan, we didn¡¯t hunt anything,¡± Rieka laughs.

    ¡°Ugh. I don¡¯t care. Just get back here or I¡¯ll eat your portion.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re going to get fat, you know.¡±

    ¡°You already are fat,¡± Varan mumbles.

    ¡°Aight. Peace out.¡±

    ¡°Peace. Over.¡±

    Rieka yawns and looks over at me. ¡°I¡¯d offer you to come over, but you¡¯d probably freak out and run away.¡±

    ¡°You need to go,¡± I tell her. ¡°Dinner awaits.¡±

    She shrugs. I could stay here a while longer. I¡¯m not really a pizza girl. Plus they never order the one with mushrooms, so I can wait. I could chill here with you for a bit.¡±

    I massage my neck. ¡°No. Rieka, you need to stop trying to-¡±

    ¡°I get it!¡± she cries, ¡°It was a one time thing. I know. I¡¯m not going to freaking recruit you or something. I just wanted to hang out.¡±

    I turn away from her running my hands through her hair. I so desperately want to stay with her. To wallow in her sweet smell. To cuddle under the moonlight. I don¡¯t even want to have sex with her. I just want to enjoy her company. Have fun with her. Real fun. Not video games, or drugs, or any of that dumb shit that teenagers do. I want to feel thrill. I want the wind blowing my hair. I want to feel the way a wolf feels as it¡¯s running beneath the full moon, it¡¯s pack at its side. I want to¡­ Zorikan shot my brother. Zorikan knocked me out and tried to cage me. Zorikan is a real bastard. And this shit over here works for him. I can¡¯t. I don¡¯t want anything to do with him. Him or his dumb ass Swifters.

    I hold up the middle finger to her. ¡°Screw off.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± she asks, startled.

    ¡°I said screw off. I don¡¯t want anything to do with you or your Swifters. Get out of here. Get out of my life.¡±

    ¡°Ok,¡± she says cautiously, like as if I was aiming a gun at her. ¡°Ok I¡¯m sorry, Kallix.¡± She picks up the bags. ¡°I know you¡¯re going through shit. I just wanted to help.¡±This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

    ¡°Don¡¯t!¡± I shout. ¡°I don¡¯t need your help.¡±

    ¡°Alright. Alright I¡¯m going,¡± she pads to the edge of the roof, ready to make her way down. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I don¡¯t know why you¡¯re such a prick.¡± And then she¡¯s gone.

    ~

    Everything swirls in my head. Too many thoughts. Too many bad memories. Too many names. Too many bad possibilities. I¡¯m overwhelmed. A fly in a hurricane. An ant in a centrifuge. I swallow a second pill, and thump my fist against my neck, practically begging the pain to go. It throbs on, feeling like its coiling my left neck tendon. I long to rip the tendon out and stretch it until the pain goes away. I try and crack my neck, but no satisfying pops come. I amble on like a zombie that can feel its flesh rotting. A zombie who knows it¡¯s a zombie and wishes it wasn¡¯t.

    Pills and Poisons. I¡¯ve never been to this club, but I¡¯ve seen it before. One of the biggest drug holes in the entire West Sector. There¡¯s no bouncer, only a scantily dressed woman splayed out across the stairs with an e cigarette in her mouth.

    ¡°You eighteen, kiddo?¡± she asks me.

    I nod. ¡°I need to¡­ forget,¡± I mumble, stumbling past her. She pulls her bare leg away before I step on it, and push through the doors. The music smashes into my like a tsunami. Oddly enough, I don¡¯t cringe. It¡¯s not techno. It¡¯s not rap or trap. It¡¯s not smooth jazz or purple. It¡¯s rock.

    A smile spreads onto my face as the familiar sounds of real instruments fill my brain with their rapturous chords. Guitars. Drums. Piano. It makes my head bop and my body sway with the rhythm as I walk. It doesn¡¯t take long for me to locate the bar.

    I slide onto a stool, one hand wrapped around my neck with my fingers digging into the tender spots. ¡°What are your prices?¡± I ask.

    ¡°No prices, lad,¡± says the tall, bald, tuxedo wearing bartender. ¡°It¡¯s happy hour. Take as you please.¡±

    I order the first thing I see. A shot of blue and purple liquid, called Brain Cancer. I down it and order another, the synthetic warmth spreading through my body.

    ¡°You got to try some of this dude,¡± says somebody. I turn and somebody probably only a year older than me, with an ear to ear grin, his hands up in the air and his hips swaying to the music. His eyes are super dilated.

    ¡°You¡¯re high, bro,¡± I chuckle.

    ¡°Whuuu? No¡¯m not,¡± he protests, sipping his bright pink drink. ¡°Name¡¯s Jarreth.¡±

    ¡°Am Kal. Gimme some of that,¡± I say taking his glass from him and glugging half of it down.

    It¡¯s so sickly sweet that I nearly hurl. It¡¯s sweeter than cough syrup but burns more that whisky. I burp, and the man lets out a high pitched laugh. Then a brown skinned girl in shorts that are so short I can¡¯t see them from beneath her T shirt dances over to him, and hip bumps him.

    ¡°Hey duuuude,¡± Jarreth slurs. ¡°This¡¯s Trista.¡±

    She grins and waves at me, then tips and falls onto me, between my legs. I¡¯m instantly hard.

    ¡°Did you¡­ did ye¡­ did you want s¡¯mof the stuff?¡± she asks, her breasts sliding over my crotch as she slumps down.

    ¡°Uhhh,¡± I wonder.

    ¡°Oh righhhhht,¡± Jarreth realizes. ¡°Dude, you got to get some of that¡­ that stuff.¡±

    ¡°Take me away!¡± I shout, the alcohol and the chemicals finally reaching my brain. I pull Trista up by the arm pits and wrap my arm around her waist, squeezing her cheek. She doesn¡¯t even notice, holding her glass high in the air, and tipping it over herself.

    Trista and Jarreth lead me around a bend, to a gruff man with a hot dog stand. Except there are no hot dogs.

    ¡°Me first! Me first!¡± Trista declares, slipping away from me and leaning over the stand.

    ¡°Hey Trist,¡± the man says. ¡°The usual?¡± he asks, pulling out a needle.

    She gleefully holds out her arm and he thrusts it in.

    Bansilin. Ban-goddamn-silin.

    Trist exhales with pleasure, then turns around and launches herself at Jarreth, wrapping her legs around his waist and shrieking.

    ¡°Have some duuuuuude,¡± Jarreth tells me over Trista¡¯s shoulder.

    I lean over to the dealer. ¡°You got anything¡­ natural?¡± I ask him.

    He thinks for a moment, then reaches over and grabs a plastic bag and tosses it to me. ¡°Eat up,¡± he instructs.

    I empty the contents out onto my hand and see that it¡¯s a bunch of tall thin mushrooms. Magic Mushrooms.

    Another girl, with very dark skin and long flowy hair in a tiny black dress dances over to me, and then against me. ¡°Hey, pretty boy,¡± she whispers over her shoulder at me.

    I¡¯m hard again as she starts to twerk. Images of Rieka flash into my mind, but I push them away, and move against her, thrusting like a dog. ¡°You got anything faster?¡± I ask the dealer, not breaking away.

    He nods and pulls out a joint. He lights it and hands it to me. ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± I ask, while the dark skinned girl goes wild on my waist.

    ¡°Angel Dust,¡± he tells me.

    Angle Dust. Malyk said it was the best. Malyk, the friend of yours who you left to die. The one who saved Tauren while you fled and got sucked off on the top of a skyscraper.

    Screw this. Screw everything. Screw the whole damn world. I put the joint to my mouth and inhale as much as I can.

    The world starts to sparkle.

    ~

    I groan. My back hurts. My lungs hurt. My head hurts. I reach my hand up and slide my shades off my forehead to cover my eyes. It¡¯s still night. Or it¡¯s already night. I¡¯m not sure. The cold smoggy air tells me that I¡¯m on a rooftop.

    I roll over to escape the sharp edge of a step that¡¯s digging into my back. I¡¯ve got a new cut on my side, but its already scabbed over. I reach over to scratch my shoulder, and a thick, sticky substance smears off my hand and onto my shoulder. I groan again and look around.

    Two people lay sprawled before me. Jarreth and Trista, I remember their names. I hadn¡¯t been to far gone when I met them. Trista is lying, flat on her face, completely naked except for her giant, stained, grey shirt that¡¯s been pulled over her head, revealing her entire backside. Her chest rises and falls slowly. I take a step forwards. I¡¯m barefoot, but I soon find my sneakers and slip them on. I amble over to her, drop down and shake her. ¡°Trista. Trista wake up. I can see your ass. And your pussy too. Put something on.¡± It¡¯s not a bad sight to behold, but I should do her that much.

    Trista lets out a long breath, and pulls her shirt down the slightest bit, letting her head fall onto the hard floor. Her tits are still pressed against the ground.

    ¡°Trista for god¡¯s sake,¡± I sigh. ¡°You¡¯re going to get raped.¡±

    ¡°You want to rape me? Go ahead,¡± she mumbled into the floor.

    ¡°Ugh. I give up.¡±

    ¡°Take a good look at this ass, cuz it¡¯s the last time you¡¯re ever going to see it!¡±

    ¡°Nice,¡± I mumble, moving to Jarreth. He¡¯s got a duck shaped pool floater around his waist, is wearing pajama pants, and a tiny blue waist coat.

    I poke him with my foot. ¡°Wake up, bruv,¡± I tell him. He doesn¡¯t stir.

    ¡°Wake up you idiot,¡± I tell him, shaking his shoulders.

    His chest is rising and falling ever so slightly. He¡¯s barely breathing.

    ¡°Jarreth,¡± I groan.

    ¡°Shut up!¡± Trista hisses, spreading her legs more.

    ¡°God damn,¡± I mumble, stepping over him.

    I spot my hoodie¡­ Rieka¡¯s hoodie, lying over the edge of the roof. I stumble over and pick it up, the untouched smell making my chest flutter. Pills and Poison is across from us, still open.

    ¡°Is it the same night?¡± I wonder out loud. I look up and see that the moon is full. I can¡¯t be. The moon definitely wasn¡¯t full when he came. That meant he¡¯d been out for a day. Good. It wasn¡¯t like he had anywhere to go. I stumble back to Trista, her ass shining invitingly up to the heavens. I don¡¯t want to leave her here. Not like this.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to do you real good if you don¡¯t get up.¡±

    ¡°Do your worst, slimy bastard,¡± she mumbles.

    ¡°Sorry darling, tanks empty,¡± I tell her.

    She doesn¡¯t respond.

    I look around, until I see a large plad coat. Pick it up, recoiling at the waft off piss, and toss it over Trista, covering her up best I can. ¡°Good luck,¡± I tell her.

    ¡°Suck me off, you twat!¡±

    I laugh. ¡°Goodbye.¡±

    I break into a run. My legs are sluggish but sturdy and once I get my adrenaline pumping, I¡¯m flying over the rooftops. The toxins are still heavy in my body, and the hangover is fresh, but it doesn¡¯t stop me. I¡¯m running, leaping, vaulting, soaring, flying.

    An air vent protrudes out of the roof. I launch myself to it, gripping it and rolling over, landing with a second roll and speeding off again. The sounds of the city night plague my ears, but in my mind, I¡¯m in a forest. A wolf weaving through the trees, chasing the his prey.

    I launch myself over the gap between two buildings and land with a flawless roll. I can smell my prey. I can smell the trees. I can smell my packmates, denned not far from here.

    As I run, I see a line of kids. Circus animals, marching pristinely with their little tablets clutched close, their dumb ass uniforms and perfectly parted hair. I am the wolf, slinking past the sheep pen. One of them gasps, looks up at me and points, but by the time the others have looked, their teacher, their shepherd, their jailor, has given him a passive aggressive warning.

    They should be at home. They should be eating dinner with their families. They should be running under the night sky with their friends. They should be in a field, with dirt beneath their fingers and the smell of grass filling their nostrils. Not the stench. Not the smog. Not the grimy roads and roaring, belching vehicles. Climbing trees, not locked in a digital world. It¡¯s nauseating.

    I leap over the gap, land in a puddle, roll keep running. I¡¯m nowhere near tiering. I duck under a metal rung, dive through the metal contraption beneath a water tower, wall jump over a metal link fence and barrel forwards. My heart drums in my ear. A war drum, calling me, the sole soldier against an army of silencing drones. I¡¯m nowhere near catching my prey. My pack has left me, and it¡¯s harder for a lone wolf to catch the dear, but not impossible. It¡¯s not impossible.

    I see the gap. It¡¯s too big for any man. Fortunately, I¡¯m a wolf. My speed picks up, my muscles overflowing with adrenaline. I know no limits. I pump harder, faster, stronger. The gap surges nearer, the ground between me and it falling away like the crumbling pastry¡¯s my mom used to bring me for my breakfast on schooldays. It is my enemy. I will overcome it.

    I reach the edge and am about to leap, when I hear a gunshot, and I falter as the bullet ricochets off the ground, and inch from my foot. I¡¯m flying through the air. An eagle thrown from its nest too early. The distance to the other side reduces, until I knock against the sharp, concrete right angle edge, ribcage first. I hear a crack, and pain explodes in my chest. I grunt, and with no hand holds, I slip from the edge, falling two stories down and landing on my back. The world spins, turning the full moon into a spinning CD.

    I can¡¯t breathe. I can¡¯t move. All I see is the moon, and the stars swimming around it, like drugged fish.

    The bastard found me.

    Zorikan has caught me again.

 1.8: The Underground

    8

    ¡°Pills,¡± I mumble, my head lolling as I move in and out of consciousness. ¡°I need¡­ my pills. Give me my¡­ god damn¡­ pills¡­¡± my hand is moved and the little plastic container is pressed to it. I flick open the cap with muscle memory and force my dry throat to swallow one. My Ray Bands and Rieka¡¯s hoodie are still on me. A relief.

    Zorikan sits across from me, in the exact same room that he had brought me to last time.

    ¡°Bastard,¡± I say. ¡°You could¡¯ve shot me. Lunatic.¡±

    He nods. ¡°Probably. Point is, I wanted you to work for me willingly, but that didn¡¯t seem to work, so you¡¯ve forced me to try alternative methods.¡±

    I try to start towards him, but my hands are cuffed behind me to the back of my chair. I jerk forwards. Zorikan doesn¡¯t flinch. ¡°You¡¯re a real twat, you know that?¡±

    He cracks his knuckles and pulls a walkie talkie from his belt. ¡°Get up here.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯re you going to do? Torture me?¡± I ask with a lopsided grin.

    He returns the smile. It¡¯s the first time I¡¯ve seen his lips move from a stone cold straight line. The smile has no warmth, and it doesn¡¯t reach his ghostly pale eyes. It unnerves me.

    I hear the door click open, and Dainin hustles in. He¡¯s got a man in a headlock, with a hand gun pressed to the man¡¯s temple. The man¡¯s got black hair like me, but it¡¯s shorter and straighter, and used to be combed back but strands of it now fall over his terrified dark eyes. His pale face has a huge purple bruise covering most of his left cheekbone area.

    ¡°Kallix,¡± my father breaths, desperation in his voice.

    My fists clench behind my back, and my heart rate quickens. A forced poker face slides over me. After a moment, I turn it into a wry smile. ¡°That¡¯s you leverage?¡±

    Zorikan is unphased by my reaction. He merely continues to stare into my soul.

    ¡°You know I left this fish faced crap eater when I was twelve, right? Him and my mom.¡±

    ¡°Kallix my boy,¡± my dad stutters. ¡°You¡¯re¡­ you¡¯re so big.¡±

    I take no notice, holding Zorikan¡¯s stare. I shrug. ¡°Kill him if you like. If you do, you won¡¯t have any leverage over me, not that he¡¯s worth much right now.¡±

    Zorikan makes a tiny hand signal from the side of his chair, and Dainin shoves my dad away, making him stumble. The tattooed, bald bear lowers his aim and shoots, hitting my dad in the calf. I flinch as I hear him cry out in pain.

    Zorikan continues to stare. ¡°We¡¯ll do it again,¡± he tells me, calmly as my dad wreaths on the ground. ¡°And again and again.¡±

    ¡°And then he¡¯ll bleed out and die and you¡¯ll be back to phase one,¡± I snark.

    He shakes his head. ¡°You¡¯d be amazed at what kind of medical treatment we can do. We Swifter¡¯s get shot all the time, and we always heal each other right back up. Your dad will be in top shape in no time. Then we can start the process over again.¡±

    I sneer, my gaze flickering to my dad for a moment. There¡¯s a pool of blood collecting beneath him.

    Zorikan gives the hand signal again, and Dainin shoots. I close my eyes and wince.

    ¡°Ah, so you do have affection for him,¡± Zorikan tells me.

    ¡°No. I just have a soul that¡¯s all,¡± I snap, forcing my eyes to stay locked against his. ¡°Any sane human being doesn¡¯t want to see another being shot to death in front of him. It¡¯s got nothing to do with the fact that we share the same blood. Blood means nothing when it boils down to it.¡±

    Zorikan gives the signal again, and my dad lets out a scream that sounds like it must¡¯ve shredded his vocal cords. My breaths turn shaky as I hold Zorikan¡¯s gaze. ¡°As I said. We can do this all day,¡± he says.

    I bite the edge of my lip until it bleeds. He raises his hand a fourth time, but I breath the order.

    His ghostly smile, like the smile of a mask creeps onto his face. ¡°Good. Dainin, get Darsus Rane fixed up, and have him kept in good condition. We may need him again.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll kill you if I get the chance. I¡¯ll slit your throat and bathe in your damn cursed blood. Probably get herpes, but it¡¯ll be worth it.¡±

    ¡°Fantastic!¡± Zorikan stands, clapping his hands together like he just signed a favorable business deal for his company. ¡°Your first run begins right now.¡±

    ~

    The train chugs along, and I hug the slouch against the pole miserably. The seats are lines with civilians, going about their regular lives with no idea that there are criminals next to them. The hood pulled low and my shades make me invisible to anybody who may recognize my face. Deqar and Varan sit in the middle of the aisle, back to back, while Rieka swings around the pole I hold like a professional dancer.

    ¡°It seems fate has brought us together once more, rainy boy,¡± she tells me, twirling too close for my comfort.

    I show her the middle finger.

    She laughs. ¡°Too bad you can¡¯t run away this time. Zor¡¯s got you on a leash.¡±

    ¡°Yeah. He does. A leash with thorns jabbing into my flesh so every move I make that isn¡¯t his intention will make me bleed out. You¡¯ve got a nice, soft fabric leash, that you could break with the slightest of tugs. Yet you stay attached to him, like a pet. Or a student, who knows they can escape, but fears what lies beyond the threshold.¡±

    She looks shocked by my jumble of words. It¡¯s not often that my metaphorical thoughts escape my lips. ¡°Parkour professional, master escape artist and philosopher? Damn.¡±

    ¡°You forgot dashingly good looking.¡±

    ¡°You look like an elf and a troll made a mistake.¡±

    ¡°And you look like that elf got aids, rabies and braincancer, thought it was a human, and lived on in a human society.¡±

    She shrugged. ¡°At least I¡¯m not half troll.¡±

    ¡°Would you guys stop flirting, god damnit,¡± Deqar groans.

    ¡°We¡¯re verbally fencing. There¡¯s a difference,¡± Rieka snarls back.

    ¡°Kick his ass faster then, would ye? Twat¡¯s makin¡¯ people stare,¡± Varan scoffs.

    ¡°It¡¯s what I do best. I considered show business,¡± I inform him. ¡°But then I realized I had more potential.¡±

    Deqar laughs. ¡°You¡¯re like a steaming ball of pure sarcasm, you know that?¡±

    I nod, not sure if it¡¯s an insult or a compliment.

    As it turns out, I didn¡¯t break a rib yesterday, but it sure felt like I did. There¡¯s a massive blue splotch covering most of my ribcage beneath my left nipple. Maybe if I¡¯d had more muscle it wouldn¡¯t have been so bad. Too bad I¡¯m skinnier than a ferret.

    ¡°So, are you going to keep my hoodie, or?¡± Rieka asks.

    ¡°Oh, right,¡± I grunt, slipping my sleeve out.

    ¡°No. Don¡¯t worry about it,¡± she smiles. ¡°Keep it. I¡¯ve got another one.¡± She removes a black one from her bag and pulls it on. ¡°I prefer this one anyway. And I don¡¯t think anybody wants to look at your little chest blemish.¡±

    I smile briefly, sliding my arm through the sleeve. The soft, candy like smell faintly reaches me. It¡¯s oddly comforting. The train jolts, and I slide, gripping the pole and sliding shoulder first into Rieka. She laughs and hip bumps me back. ¡°You guys know¡­ what we¡¯re doing? I haven¡¯t been told shit.¡±

    Deqar nods. ¡°We need to intercept a package transfer. It¡¯s being moved out of some factory, and we need to get it before it reaches its train.¡±

    I nod. ¡°And it is¡­.?¡±

    ¡°No idea. Dunno how big it is, dunno how heavy, dunno what¡¯s inside or who¡¯s guarding it,¡± Deqar says.

    ¡°Zorikan would tell us if he wanted us to know,¡± Varan counters, his ginger hair sloped up in a perfect wave like a cartoon character.

    I analyze the two of them, sitting against each other. Varan is long, lanky and thin limbed. He¡¯s probably a very fast runner, but not as nimble. His face is pale, skin is soft and his features are round. He can¡¯t be over twenty years old.

    Deqar on the other hand, is shorter, but he makes up for it with his huge purple mohawk, which I notice is blue at the roots. His eyes are thick with eyeshadow and are bloodshot. He¡¯s a junkie for sure. His chest is bigger, and his biceps and calves are chiseled through what I know to be calisthenic training, not weight lifting and such. Rieka on the other hand, looks like she could be some random teenage girl, doing her last year of high school. She¡¯s pretty, but not stunningly so, aside from her heaven-sent eyes. How the hell did she end up working for that prick Zorikan? I consider asking her, but then re-evaluate. I shouldn¡¯t get too close to her, or any of them for that matter. They might need to hurt me in the future, so I should be mentally prepared to do the same. No pussying out. Pussying out is for pussies.

    The train grinds to a halt. ¡°That¡¯s our stop,¡± says Deqar, leaping to his feet and helping Varan up. The four of us slide out the doors before the mob of people can pour out.

    We follow him out of the station, up a flight of stairs onto open street. We split and walk, heads down. Two minutes pass before my walkie talkie buzzes. ¡°See the building on the right?¡± Deqar asks. ¡°The big one with the red sign?¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± the three of us mumble.

    ¡°Whatever we¡¯re getting, it¡¯s behind there.¡±

    We slink through the narrow gap between buildings, one at a time, with a few moments between each movement. I join the three of them, crouched behind a delivery truck. There¡¯s a small concrete space between the two buildings, big enough for a single truck to park. From beneath, I can two pairs of boots, standing rigid at the entrance.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    ¡°There¡¯re guards,¡± I hiss.

    ¡°And they¡¯re armed,¡± Varan adds, peering around the front. ¡°Big guns. Very big guns.¡±

    ¡°Zorikan never told us about this. Why the hell wouldn¡¯t he tell us about this?¡± I demand.

    ¡°Shh, keep your voice down,¡± Rieka whispers. ¡°We¡¯re not getting through here. There¡¯s one entrance and one door.¡±

    ¡°Shit¡¯s impossible,¡± Deqar huffs.

    Rieka shakes her head. ¡°Let¡¯s try the back door.¡±

    ¡°Back door?¡± Deqar asks incredulously. ¡°I thought this was the back door.¡±

    Rieka shrugs. ¡°It¡¯s worth a shot.¡± She then darts back the way we came. The rest of us follow like baby ducklings.

    She leads us around the block onto the next road. When I don¡¯t see the low, dark structure, I frowns.

    ¡°What the hell?¡± Varan asks.

    She then points at a convenience store called Shei¡¯s Road Stop. ¡°It¡¯s there.¡±

    Deqar raises an eyebrow.

    ¡°Yeah. Same number of buildings from the end of the road. Same size. It¡¯s behind there. I assure you.¡±

    ¡°Maybe,¡± I muse, ¡°But there¡¯s no way we can squeeze through that gap,¡± I say, pointing to the probably two inch distance between the convenience store and the next shop over.

    ¡°Well then we go through,¡± Rieka decides, marching towards the store. We walk in, and to our misfortune, we¡¯re the only customers. A haggled old Chinese man practically shrieks in delight and ambles over to us.

    ¡°What can I do for you, my fine you friends?¡± he asks, a wide smile on his face.

    ¡°Distract him,¡± Rieka whispers to Varan.

    ¡°Um, my friends over here actually just want to use the washroom,¡± the lanky ginger improvises.

    The smile disappears.

    ¡°But I need to¡­ stock up on snacks. Snacks and drinks for our road trip,¡± he adds.

    Deqar and Rieka nod encouragingly.

    ¡°Oh! Well in that case, I know just how to help you. Come along,¡± the little old man says, delighted.

    Varan scowls at the others but follows his new friend.

    ¡°Alright, go time,¡± Rieka whispers. We speed off to the end of the store where the empty cashier counter is.

    ¡°Couldn¡¯t we have just robbed this guy and been done with it?¡± Deqar sighs.

    ¡°You want to rob a little old Chinese man?¡± I ask.

    ¡°I honestly don¡¯t give a damn. I¡¯m tired and I want to go home.¡±

    Rieka slides over the counter and looks around the back wall, searching for a door.

    ¡°Door,¡± Deqar points out, nodding to the blue metal door on the far side of the wall. I quickly make my way over to it and push through, only to see a clandestine toilet and the reek of urinal candy.

    ¡°It¡¯s the freaking bathroom,¡± I retort.

    Deqar tears an uncomfortably large piece of flesh from the top of his index finger, sprouting blood.

    I look for Rieka, then see her halfway into the wall.

    ¡°Air vent,¡± she says over her shoulder. ¡°C¡¯mon.¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t even know that those lead to our destination,¡± Deqar cries.

    I shrug, and push Rieka further in, then crawl in after her.

    ¡°There¡¯s no way I¡¯m going to fit in there,¡± Deqar calls.

    ¡°You could stay with Varan,¡± I tell him.

    He curses, then hauls himself inside as well.

    Rieka wiggles on ahead, moving like an inchworm forwards. She moves double the speed of me and my mohawked accomplice behind me, crawling on our elbows and dragging our legs. It isn¡¯t long before claustrophobia starts to creep up on me. My breaths turn ragged and my hands start to jitter as I crawl forwards.

    ¡°How much longer is this?¡± I ask her, my heart beginning to race.

    ¡°We¡¯re here,¡± she whispers from further up.

    Deqar and I scooch up until we¡¯re right behind her. ¡°What can you see?¡± I ask.

    ¡°It¡¯s a¡­ elevator? Something like that. Not sure.¡±

    ¡°Is there anybody inside?¡±

    ¡°Nup. It¡¯s empty. There¡¯s nothing inside. A sliding double door and a control panel. Nothing else.¡±

    ¡°Well get out then!¡± I hiss.

    She pushes the vent out, hearing it clatter to the floor. We slide out one by one, and stand in the tiny, empty room. I peer out the gap sliver of space between the double doors, and see light, concrete, and what could be part of a delivery truck. I can¡¯t see the guards, but they¡¯re probably standing on either side.

    I nod. ¡°This is it.¡±

    Rieka examines the control panel while Deqar replaces the vent grill thing.

    ¡°Floor one, two, three, four,¡± she mutters.

    ¡°That¡¯s it, I¡¯m radioing Zorikan,¡± Deqar decides pulling out his walkie talkie.

    ¡°That¡¯s not going to work,¡± Rieka advises.

    ¡°Zorikan? Zorikan do you copy? Zorikan do you copy? This is Deqar, Rieka and Kallix. We need more information about the what the hell we¡¯re supposed to do. Over.¡±

    ¡°Screw it,¡± I say, pressing the button labelled four.

    ¡°What the hell, Kallix!¡± Rieka shrieks, hitting me in the shoulder.

    ¡°What?¡± I ask. ¡°It was a calculated guess!¡± I defend.

    ¡°How the bloody hell is randomly pushing a button a calculated guess?¡±

    ¡°Um¡­ guys,¡± Deqar warns. The room jolts, and I feel my stomach crawl up my throat as we plummet.

    Rieka grabs the edge of the control panel, holding herself down.

    Deqar and I glance at each other with fear as our feet leave the ground. ¡°Holy god damn shit,¡± I mutter.

    Not a moment later, gravity slams into us, and Deqar and I crash into the ground. Rieka lands square on her feet, teeters, them smirks at us. As Deqar and I clamber to our feet, the doors slide open.

    ¡°What¡­ the¡­ shit.¡± Rieka gasps.

    Before us, is a large bridge, extending over a massive contraption, buzzing with red electricity. The three of us amble out in awe, gazing at the utterly huge piece of what I think is machinery. Tubes and levers and cables and sockets and dozens of other things I can¡¯t name, make up the gargantuan thing beneath us. I can see three hundred feet down, and the dozens of cat walks that litter it, but the further down it goes, the more shrouded it is in red mist. People mill around like ants, scurrying across the catwalks with pieces of equipment and clipboards. Some of them with guns.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think this is what we were told to get,¡± I breath, peering over the edge.

    The bridge is made of metal grate, allowing us to see right under our feet.

    ¡°C¡¯mon, let¡¯s check it out,¡± Rieka decides excitedly.

    ¡°You¡¯re insane. You¡¯re a literal lunatic,¡± Deqar says, far too loud.

    ¡°This might be a brake through! What if this is a secret nuclear weapon or a bomb, or something that threatens the entire city!¡± Rieka exclaims.

    I gulp. ¡°That¡¯s not how bombs look. Or generators. Or anything for that matter.¡±

    ¡°Whatever it is, Zorikan will want information about it.¡±

    ¡°Screw this. I¡¯m out. I am out,¡± Deqar decides, walking back into the elevator.

    Rieka looks expectantly at me. I¡¯m about to respond, when a deep voice shouts ¡°Oi!¡±

    Our heads snap to the source, and see a huge, triangularly chiseled man with a gun like the guards outside pointing at us. ¡°Stop! Stop right there!¡±

    ¡°Shit!¡± Rieka exclaims as we dive back into the elevator. Deqar slams the buttons as we scramble to the walls. Bullets zip into the back wall as the doors close.

    Deqar stares at us with open arms. ¡°Case closed. We run.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not getting shot for Zorikan¡¯s bastard ass,¡± I tell Rieka.

    She grimaces. ¡°Too bad. Deqar hit the wrong button.¡±

    We swivel around to see the doors opening to the second floor.

    ¡°Screw you, ye purple haired piece of shit,¡± I mutter under my breaths. As the doors start to close, the three of us dive out and roll to our feet.

    A dozen men and women in lab coats and protective goggles stare at us incredulously. We tear through them, knocking over test tubes and microscopes and other apparatus I cannot name as we run. A bald, fat one stands in my way staring at me with shock, and I weave around him, slide over a lab bench, shattering a bunch of flasks to the ground. I hear sizzling as they crash to the floor and the doctors panicking to clean it up as we run.

    Rieka grabs my hand and yanks me to the left and through a door and towards a staircase. We fly up, with Deqar scrambling after us best he can, a couple out of shape doctors trying in vain to catch up to us.

    ¡°What the hell,¡± I rasp. ¡°What the god damn hell.¡±

    We tear up near endless flights of stairs until my calves are burning and my chest is heaving, until we reach a door and bundle through it, slamming it shut behind us.

    Rieka moves to the next door and pulls, but it doesn¡¯t budge. ¡°Shit.¡±

    Deqar and I lift the end of one of the metallic waiting benches and slide it through the door handles as a barricade, so it rests diagonally into the room. Two guards in black uniforms with red highlights. They stare at us with shock through the little windows.

    Rieka pulls the other door again. ¡°It¡¯s freaking locked.¡±

    ¡°Perfect. Just perfect,¡± I sigh, slumping down onto the other bench.

    Deqar moves to the door, and pulls out a small, thin piece of metal, then pokes it into the lock and begins to fiddle. I look back at the barred door to see one of the guards as got something like a blow torch, with a thing flame blasting at the part where the double doors meet. He starts to melt the bench.

    ¡°Oh shit,¡± Rieka curses. ¡°Deqar hurry up.¡±

    ¡°Hold on,¡± he mutters, jamming it in further while he twists and fiddles with it.

    The blow torch thing moves slowly but surely, like a butter knife slicing through very cold ice cream, melting through the bench.

    ¡°Why the hell do these bastards have freaking blow torch thingies on them?¡± I ask.

    Rieka doesn¡¯t respond, her eyes frantically flitting from the ever melting bench back to Deqar, kneeling before the door.

    There¡¯s less than six inches of bench left.

    ¡°Deqar¡­ hurry¡­ up¡­¡±

    ¡°Stop talking,¡± he mutters.

    I walk over and peer through the window of the door he¡¯s lockpicking and see stacks of boxes about the size of a water bottle. Being loaded onto a delivery truck.

    ¡°That¡¯s probably our target,¡± I tell Rieka.

    She nods.

    ¡°Boom!¡± Deqar exclaims and the door swings open.

    A dozen of the loaders look at us in shock, but we charge right for them.

    I swing with my right arm, hitting one petite woman in a blue uniform directly in the cheek and ripping the package right from her arm, then take off towards the nearest door I see.

    Rieka is right behind me a package in hand, while Deqar is still struggling to wrestle down a particularly burly man.

    I hear a clatter as the bench falls to the ground and the guards break through, guns blazing.

    Deqar manages to tear the box free from the loader and scrambles after us, bullets barely whizzing past him. I fling the door open to see another flight of damn metal spiral stairs and barge up them.

    Deqar is scrambling after us when the guards reach the bottom and unleash a flurry of deafening gunshots that force me into a half crawl. Luckily, the grates o the stairs are too small for the most of the bullets to pass through, making most of the ricochet back down. By the time we reach the first floor, my hair is wet with sweat and Rieka has overtaken me.

    The two of us bundle through the open door and onto a room filled with monitors and people slouched towards them. All eyes turn towards us. I freeze.

    ¡°The elevator, over there!¡± Rieka exclaims, grabbing my hand and yanking me to the right while all the computer users go blank with shock.

    Deqar hurdles through the door a moment later, leaping over a computer lined desk, smashing them to the floor in the process and taking off after us.

    Rieka slams her fist to the Ground Floor button of the elevator, and we hustle inside. Deqar flings himself with the longest jump I¡¯ve ever seen through closing elevator doors just as the guards barge through the door and hammer down on their triggers.

    He tumbles into me, a crumpled heap of ragged breaths and sweat. ¡°Oh¡­ my¡­ freaking¡­ god,¡± he rasps.

    ¡°Rieka the damn guards outside,¡± I warn.

    ¡°The air vent. We¡¯re going back to Shei,¡± she tells me, doing a straight vertical jump and grabbing the grill as we ascend. She rips it out and lets it clatter to the ground, the crawls inside.

    ¡°Soon as these doors open, we¡¯re bullet pancakes,¡± I tell Deqar, still heaving on the ground.

    I leap up after Rieka and crawl in.

    The elevator stops ascending.

    Deqar pulls himself to his feet and presses down the hold doors closed button, still panting.

    I waist no time, scrabbling after Rieka. A few moments pass.

    The sound of Deqar launching himself across the elevator and up into the air duct hits me like a gong, followed closely by bullets and the loud cry of Deqar cursing.

    Rieka drags herself around a corner ahead of us.

    ¡°Shit! Shit shit shit!¡± Deqar hollers, wriggled like a jacked up worm.

    I pull myself around the corner.

    ¡°Up the air duct,¡± one of the guards says.

    Deqar scrabbles around the corner just as deafening gunshots rip through the small metal passage. He screams in pain. I don¡¯t stop, crawling faster and faster, kicking with my legs, pulling myself forward with my right hand while my left clutched the box. Screw Zorikan. Screw his damn idiot face.

    More bullets. More screams. More curses. I don¡¯t stop.

    Only when my elbows, hands and knuckles are raw from crawling, does Rieka force open the vent, and slide out. I tumble out after her, landing with a thud behind a gawking Mr. Shei.

    ¡°High again,¡± she tells him, picking herself up and vaulting over the counter.

    He¡¯s speechless as I follow her.

    We weave through the aisles and out the front door onto the open street. I relish the cool air, even if it¡¯s thick with exhaust fumes. ¡°Where to?¡± I ask.

    Rieka¡¯s pulled out her walkie talkie. ¡°Zorikan? Zorikan do you copy? Over.¡±

    ¡°I copy. Do you have the package? Over.¡±

    ¡°Yes. We¡¯ve acquired two of them. Small, rectangular boxes? About a foot tall?¡±

    I¡¯m about to yell the skin of Zorikan¡¯s face through the talkie, when the limping form of Deqar bursts through the door. He¡¯s bleeding heavily from his left ankle. ¡°You guys are bastards,¡± he pants, doubling over.

    I can¡¯t help but smile.

    ¡°Yes that¡¯s good. Get back here fast. Over and out.¡±

    The talkie goes silent.

    Rieka offers Deqar a hand and pulls him up. ¡°Where¡¯s your package.¡±

    He shakes his head. ¡°Lost it. Preferred my life.¡±

    We¡¯re about to start off, when I hear the all too familiar sound of police sirens. I tilt my head up, exasperated. ¡°Aw shit.¡±

    A single police car careens around the block, snaking through traffic and screeches to a halt before us.

    We bolt away, as two officers, who just so happen to be Firidah and Grell exit their car, hand guns raised. ¡°Stop! Halt where you are!¡±

    We don¡¯t. I know they won¡¯t shoot. Too many civilians. Too high a risk. They know that too, and holster their weapons charging after us.

    Ordinarily, they would stand no chance of catching us, but circumstances have changed.

    Grell quickly tackles Deqar from behind, knocking him to the ground and pinning his hands behind his back.

    I glance back, considering if I should help him or not. Rieka is already leaving me. I run, picking up the pace as Firida starts to gain on me. But I¡¯m too nimble. Dodging through crowds is my second nature.

    She¡¯s slowed down, like a wildebeest pushing against the heard. ¡°Stop! Stop in the name of the law!¡± she cries, but she knows she won¡¯t catch me.

    Rieka has found a route to the rooftops and is on top in a second. I reach the base of the climb, see my foot holds, how I will use my momentum, when to switch hands¡­ but then I slow to a halt.

    Rieka glances back at me in shock, as Firida catches up to me and takes me down. I grunt as she cuffs me hands behind my back.

    I¡¯d think I¡¯d rather be with the police than Zorikan.

 1.9: The Fox in a Bear Trap

    9

    ¡°What were you thinking?¡± Kaloaan asks me. ¡°A god damn Bansilin shipment? What¡¯s wrong with you?¡±

    ¡°I told you,¡± I groan. ¡°I didn¡¯t know it was Bansilin.¡±

    ¡°Yeah. Sure. Of course, you just randomly break into some underground bunker thing and steal a couple boxes that just so happen to be Bansilin?¡±

    I¡¯m sitting with Deqar in my brother¡¯s office, sitting across from him on the other side of his desk, Firida standing next to him, with a stone chiseled poker face. ¡°I found dad,¡± I say.

    Kaloaan looks up at me. ¡°What? Where?¡±

    ¡°Remember that twat, Zorikan? Yeah, he got him. Stole him right out of the apartment. He captured me again right after I went to check on mom and used dad to blackmail me into stealing that shit for him.¡±

    Kaloaan raises an eyebrow. ¡°And you?¡± he asks, looking at Deqar. ¡°You work for him.¡±

    Deqar nods, keeping his eyes fixed on his hands, picking at his nails.

    Kaloaan sighs. ¡°We¡¯ve got a lead. That¡¯s good. Can you get us a location?¡±

    Deqar shakes his head.

    Kaloaan¡¯s hands slam down on the desk, making me jolt with surprise. ¡°Let¡¯s try this again. Give me a location.¡±

    A faint smile crawls onto Deqar¡¯s face. ¡°Even if I do, you¡¯ll go there and find it empty. As soon as Zorikan knows we¡¯ve been captured, which has already happened, he¡¯ll relocate. Torture me if you want to, I can give you the previous address, but it¡¯ll do you no good.¡±

    Kaloaan grits his teeth. ¡°Kallix, what does Zorikan look for in a base of operation?¡±

    ¡°The one I was in¡­ was like an empty office building. It¡¯s ideal for a gang of thieves.¡±

    ¡°Ok. Ok, there can¡¯t be that many empty multifloored buildings in the city. Scour all of them. I want teams everywhere.¡± Kaloaan barks orders into his earpiece as he walks out of the office, leaving us with Firida.

    ¡°You left out the part about your dad being shot,¡± Deqar mumbles. ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to see him angry. It¡¯s¡­ not a nice sight,¡± I mutter. ¡°He might kill somebody.¡±

    Deqar laughs. ¡°Rieka? Of course. Why didn¡¯t I see it?¡±

    I huff.

    ¡°Both of you, shut up,¡± Firida orders, looking at us like she just bought us from a butchery. ¡°You¡¯re under suspicion of doing the illegal opioid, Bansilin, thus we are required to run the mandatory tests on you.¡±

    ¡°Test away,¡± I snarl.

    Grell and another cop I haven¡¯t seen yet get us off our chairs and force us down the hall and into a police car. Firida drives with Grell in the shotgun, while Deqar, I and the other cop cram into the back. We pull over at the hospital, the one I had recently paid a visit to and bundle out. We¡¯re forced into a doctors room, blood samples are taken, and taken to a waiting room.

    I laugh at the awkwardness of us in the waiting room with a couple other unrelated patients casting us worried looks. Deqar and I, both of us who don¡¯t look like very normal people, cuffed with three cops waiting for our results to come in.

    I lean over to Firida. ¡°Hey, don¡¯t you find it odd, how we found some giant underground contraption thingy, and you guys are worried about whether or not we did drugs?¡± I ask her with a giggle.

    ¡°Further investigations will be conducted to testify the validity of your claims,¡± she replies autonomously.

    ¡°What do you think that was?¡± I ask Deqar.

    ¡°What do I look like, a conspiracy theorist?¡± he snarks.

    ¡°Jeez,¡± I breath.

    ¡°Hi ma¡¯am. The results are in,¡± a nurse says, approaching Firidah apprehensively.

    Firida nods and takes two sheets of paper, then compares them. She nods, and signals for Grell and his playmate to haul us back into the car. She mumbles something inaudible into her earpiece as we reach the police building, and brought back in, where Kaloaan intercepts us. He grabs me by the wrist and says, ¡°Regular protocol, to Firida, who nods and pulls Deqar in a different direction.

    ¡°Hey. Hey! Where are you taking him!¡± I shout, squirming against my brother¡¯s iron grip.

    Kaloaan yanks me back into his office.

    ¡°What the hell? Where did she take him?¡±

    My brother pinches the bridge of his nose. At least he also gets headaches. ¡°Deqar¡¯s results came back positive.¡±

    I¡¯m stunned. ¡°Oh¡­shit.¡±

    ¡°You just¡­ can¡¯t trust anybody nowadays,¡± he breathes.

    I nod. ¡°So¡­ can I go?¡±

    He grimaces, and his forehead wrinkles as he thinks about what to say. ¡°You¡¯ve been hanging around the wrong crowd¡­¡±

    ¡°What the hell?¡± I shout. ¡°You think I did that voluntarily?¡±

    ¡°No. No, I¡¯m sorry. It¡¯s just, you performed an illegal brake in to this¡­ underground factory, or whatever it was, not to mention the convenience store.¡±The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°I can¡¯t believe this,¡± I breathe, exasperated. ¡°I freaking turned myself in for christ¡¯s sake.¡±

    ¡°I know,¡± Kaloaan cringed. ¡°And I¡¯m arranging to pay for your bail¡­¡±

    ¡°Why the hell is that necessary?¡± I cry out.

    ¡°There¡¯re just a couple complications I need to deal with first.¡±

    ¡°What, so I¡¯m going to be locked up?¡±

    He looks up at me pleadingly. ¡°Only until I sort this out.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re kidding me.¡±

    ¡°Kallix I¡¯m being sued. People, owners of all the places you¡¯ve caused mayhem, are suing me. You¡¯re my brother, so it¡¯s obvious that they think I¡¯m being biased to your charges.¡±

    I stare at him blankly.

    ¡°Kallix I¡¯m sorry. It won¡¯t be more than a day.¡±

    ¡°You know I can just bust out of here. Right here, right now.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s why your cuffed.¡±

    ¡°Then freaking uncuff me!¡± I holler, slamming my shackled wrists down on the desk and knocking over a pen holder. It clatters to the ground, two pens falling out. A blue puddle of ink pools around them.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Kallix,¡± Kaloaan says again, averting my gaze.

    Grell walks in and places his gorilla hands on my shoulders.

    ¡°Screw you!¡± I holler. ¡°Damn you and your god damn lust for rules and law!¡±

    Grell drags me out of the office, while Kaloaan holds his stare at the pens, lying beside his desk. How had they managed to break from such a small fall. He picks up both pens, laying them on his handkerchief, but the blue ink stains remain on his hands.

    ~

    The worst part about being in a cell is purely the white walls. There¡¯s nothing to look at. There¡¯s nothing to do. There¡¯s brain stimulation whatsoever, besides counting how many pushups I can do before I collapse from exhaustion or how long I can dig my fingernails into the skin on my forearm before I start to bleed.

    I¡¯d planned to escape as soon as I was brought in and laugh as I think about what my brother¡¯s face would look like. As a kid, I¡¯d seen so many damn online videos about how people escaped from prison using the most unfathomable tactics, like digging themselves out with a spoon. Problem is, I¡¯ve got no spoon. I¡¯m in a white box, with glossy white walls on three sides, and a plexiglass wall facing the hallway, with a single sliding door. There¡¯s literally nothing around me. Not even a bloody window. The only tarnish to the pure whiteness is a couple stains my dirty shoes made, and a tiny air vent at the top of the wall. Problem is, it¡¯s so small, I wouldn¡¯t even be able to fit my head in, if I was able to wall jump up like a ninja. Which I would probably be able to.

    I paint little stickmen on the floor with the blood that drips from my forearm. It¡¯s true that pain is better than boredom. At least for a wolf. Maybe not for a sheep. When I was younger, I read a story about a fox who was caught in a beartrap. He grew hungry and tired, but not for long. Eventually, his other fox friends found him, and brought him food and water. He was no longer hungry for food, but his heart was hungry for wind against his fur. For the scent of living prey in his nose. To be rid of the stench of sleeping near his own urine. The fox, though it was living well, could not bear his relative captivity anymore. To escape, he chewed off his entire leg, rather than starving to death. I was that fox. All of us are that fox. Except we¡¯re born with the bear trap on our legs. To chew it off, is to lose many things, like our wealth, our social status, our security, and often many of our friends and family. Not many of us are ready. Not many of us think that sleeping in our own piss a bad trade off. Not many of us are like me.

    But right now, each of my legs has been caught, with large metallic teeth digging into my flesh with spells of monotony and boredom. They¡¯re poisoned, and the toxic fluid churns in my veins, fighting a battle against my soul. Against my will. Against me as a whole. What makes me up. Everything that isn¡¯t flesh, blood, bones, skin, muscle, or anything made of cells. What¡¯s left after you strip away all the cells, that¡¯s what fights the battle. That¡¯s what needs to be strong.

    I find myself giving rolling punches to the white wall until it¡¯s stained with the blood of my knuckles. The physical wounds of a mental battle.

    The door slides open, and I cast a forlorn look through between the long dark locks covering my eyes.

    ¡°You¡¯re free. Now get your filthy ass out of here before I lock you up myself.¡± Firida stands, leaning against the doorway, loudly chewing gum and looking at me with impatience.

    I slip my shades over my red rimmed eyes and walk over to her. A caged wolf to its capturer.

    ¡°Your brother couldn¡¯t bear to see you,¡± she says. ¡°Too soft if you ask me. He needs to learn how to be harden himself. He¡¯s got to if he wants to take care of an animal like you.¡±

    I shove past her, a low growl escaping my throat. I walk out the prison like a zombie. A zombie with a purpose. Images pass me in a blur. I blink. It almost feels like I¡¯ve been drugged. I stumble and grip my head. It¡¯s not exactly a headache, more like a heavy cloud where my brain should be. A cloud that¡¯s too big to fit in my skull.

    A person is standing before me. I stop and squint. It¡¯s dark, and I¡¯m wearing sunglasses. Not the best combination. Then a short breath of surprise escapes me.

    Tauren stand before me, hands held together. She wears a green skirt the complements her hair and eye color, as well as low black heels. Her red lipstick is evident, along her heavy layer of makeup. She looks me in the eye.

    When I don¡¯t speak, she opens her mouth. ¡°I heard you were in jail, so I came to visit you. I didn¡¯t bring any flowers, but I figured you¡¯d just thrown them away,¡± she gives a little, half hearted laugh.

    I hold my one, dangling arm with my other hand like an awkward teenager about to ask out his crush. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯m sorry I ran. I¡¯m sorry I left you. I¡¯m sorry¡­¡±

    She sighs. ¡°Don¡¯t be. We did the same thing Kallix. Both of us ran like cowards. We¡¯re not too different. You don¡¯t have to apologize.¡±

    A knot builds in my throat. Why couldn¡¯t she have been mad? Why couldn¡¯t she have slapped me and punched me and kicked me? I blink and force the water damn in my brain to hold strong.

    But it isn¡¯t me who erupts. Tauren sinks into me, shuddering with loud sobs.

    I wrap my arms around her and hug her close, resting her head over my shoulder and stroking my her back. ¡°Kallix,¡± she sobs. ¡°Wesslin. They shot him. They shot my husband,¡± she cries.

    My breaths turn shaky, as the two of us slouch against the wall of the end of the police building. ¡°Is¡­ is he¡­ dead?¡± I ask.

    She swallows. ¡°He¡¯s¡­ braindead,¡± she chokes.

    No. No that¡¯s worse than death.

    Her tears fall onto Rieka¡¯s hoodie, as she puller herself closer to me. I hug her tightly. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯m so damn sorry, Tauren. You¡­ you don¡¯t deserve this.¡±

    She wails, clutching my hair and shaking with sobs. Minutes pass and a light drizzle falls as I hold her until my shoulder is wet and she has black streaks down her cheeks. ¡°I know¡­ who it was,¡± she whispers, trying to speak through her tight throat and runny nose.

    I look at her through my rain tangled locks. I¡¯m glad she can¡¯t see my eyes. ¡°Who shot Wesslin?¡±

    She nods. ¡°They were paid. They junkies were paid.¡±

    I lean into her. ¡°By who?¡±

    ¡°Kallix you have to help me. Please Kallix. You¡¯re the only person I can trust with this information.¡±

    ¡°Who? Who was it?¡±

    ¡°Kallix please,¡± she wails.

    ¡°I¡¯ll help you. I need to know who it was,¡± I urge.

    She sniffs again. ¡°A mafia group. Working closely with the Bansilin manufacturers and snuffing out any influential people who are against it. Led by a woman named Qiara Delakrinus.¡±

    ¡°Ok. It¡¯s ok,¡± I sooth. ¡°What do you want me to do? How can I help?¡±

    Tauren erupts into tears again.

    ¡°Hey, what is it? What can I do? You need to talk to me.¡±

    ¡°Kill her, Kallix. Please,¡± she tells me, staring me directly in the eye. ¡°Please, Kallix.¡±

    I¡¯m frozen.

    ¡°Kallix please. I¡¯m¡­ I¡¯m begging you.¡±

    I shake my head. ¡°I don¡¯t kill people. You know that.¡±

    ¡°Kallix please!¡± she wails. ¡°She destroyed me! She took the only thing I ever loved away. Please Kallix, I¡¯m your friend. You¡­¡±

    I stand up. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Tauren,¡± I tell her over my shoulder.

    ¡°Kallix?¡±

    I stride away into the dimly lit street.

    ¡°Kallix please!¡± she cries.

    I don¡¯t turn back. I don¡¯t say anything. I just walk forwards. Like a shark, I move onwards. Like a shark, I need to keep myself alive before others. Like a shark, survival, above all, is my first instinct.

 1.10: East Side is Very Different.

    10

    I¡¯m done. I can¡¯t do it anymore. This city brings me nothing but god damn stress. The cloud stuffed in my skull is grey and heavy with rain. It needs to release. It needs a downpour. Problem is that I can¡¯t just take a piss and get it over with. I need to get out of here so I can rain. Pun intended.

    Too many familiar faces. Too many familiar places. Too many histories. Too many people that hate me. I¡¯m losing track. I might meet somebody on the road and be like, ¡°Hey wassup dude?¡± and then they¡¯re like, ¡°You twat!¡± and then stab me.

    I need to leave. Right now. All the damn parkour in the world can¡¯t help me anymore. And I¡¯m afraid I might find a nice, open space, atop some giant building somewhere, and find Rieka waiting for me. Can¡¯t deal with that right now.

    So here I am, waiting at the train station along with dozens of other people anxiously checking their watches, and slipping notes into vending machines in exchange for snacks. I would do that to, but there¡¯s no way I¡¯m touching the leftover money I have in my pocket. It feels like a million years ago when she gave that to me. The sound of a train screeching closer fills the station. I haven¡¯t got a ticket, but that¡¯s never stopped me before.

    As it comes into sight, I pull my hood over my head, the candy smell of Rieka¡¯s perfume tickling my nose, as I enter the mob of people pushing to get on against the ones forcing their way out. It¡¯s like two rivers that flow in opposite directions hitting each other. Naturally, it makes no sense. Wouldn¡¯t it be faster just to let them get out first?

    As I¡¯m shouldered inside, I quickly slink to the back of the carriage near the bathroom and press myself into the corner seat. Five people squash into the four seats next to me, leading to the fat rolls of a man who is seriously testing the strength of his shirt pushing up against me. To make matters worse, he¡¯s scoffing down a huge, sloppy burger, with half of the contents spilling into my lap. I shut my eyes tight, fold my arms across my chest and cross my legs. The throbbing of the tension in my shoulder syncs to the train, along the tracks, lulling me into a shallow, anxious sleep.

    I awake when the tilt of my head has made my Ray Bands fall onto my lap, between my legs and clatter onto the floor. I quickly kneel and slip them back on, when I see the conductor, (or somebody conductor like), making his way down the isle with a little scanner thing, checking for people¡¯s tickets. Shit.

    The man wearing a dark blue conductor¡¯s cap (Or at least what I think would be a conductor¡¯s cap) glances at me with annoyance, and then returns to his duty. He¡¯s about six seats down from me. I¡¯ve got all the time in the world

    Casually, I pick myself up, then prance over the tree trunk sized legs of the hippo that was sitting next to me, and step towards the bathroom. It¡¯s locked. It¡¯s freaking god damn locked.

    I glance back at the conductor, who¡¯s moved one seat closer. Shit, shit, shit.

    I rap twice on the door, and a woman hollers back, ¡°Occupied!¡±

    Eyes turn to me. I return an awkward smile, and lean against the opposite wall, anxiously glancing at the conductor who moves ever closer. I go to the end of the carriage to see if I can slip into the next one, but it¡¯s locked.

    ¡°No moving between carriages, munch,¡± the conductor calls, two seats away from mine.

    I rap again on the bathroom door.

    ¡°I said, OCCUPIED!¡± she screams.

    Shitittyshitshit.

    I glance at the windows, but they¡¯re not openable. The conductor is nearly to me. Maybe I can use the overhead luggage rail thingy to swing over him and take off. Open the door and jump out. I step towards them, when out the window I see the ground disappear.

    ¡°What the hell?¡± I breath, leaning over somebody to look outside.

    ¡°You never been over the strait before?¡± they ask.

    From what I can see, it looks like the train is flying over the ocean, which happens to be over two hundred feet down. No jumping off there.

    ¡°Excuse me sir?¡± the conductor asks, tapping my shoulder.

    ¡°Huh?¡± I turn.

    ¡°Ticket please?¡±

    I twist my legs and give him the most agonized look I can. ¡°Sir, I¡¯m sorry but I can¡¯t hold it in,¡± I splutter like as if it¡¯s one big word.

    He nods and raps on the door. ¡°Conductor here. Please stop holding up the bathroom.¡±

    ¡°Alright, alright. Hold on a second,¡± the annoyed woman says.

    The conductor turns back to me. ¡°Ticket?¡±

    The door opens and I dart inside, shoving the woman out and locking the door. A sigh of relief escapes me. I drop to the floor, which is surprisingly clean, and peer under the door. I can see the soles of the conductor¡¯s shoes, tapping the carpet impatiently. He¡¯s waiting for me. Well, then he can wait.

    I lift up the lid and relieve myself, not really caring when I miss. Then I stop the flow, and aim up to the sink, letting loose again. A brief cackle escapes me. He¡¯ll have something to clean up now.

    There¡¯s another one of those unopenable windows as well, where I can see the expanse of water beneath us. I heard that falling into water from this height is worse than falling into dry cement. I yank the tap upwards, snapping it off in a single pull. Cheap shit. Then, I slap it into the window, and hear a satisfying crack. Glad the train has glass windows and not that plastic glass shit, which is impossible to break.

    Unfortunately, the conductor hears it too. ¡°Excuse me? Excuse me, sir?¡± he calls.

    I slam it in again, enlarging it.

    ¡°Sir. Sir, what¡¯s going on in there?¡±

    Third time¡¯s the charm. The crack shoots out, reaching the window frame on both sides.

    ¡°I¡¯m coming inside!¡± the conductor yells.

    ¡°Hold on a second I got some bad shit over here!¡± I holler back.

    Doesn¡¯t stop him. Pervert. The lock unclicks, and he walks in, a look of shock on his face. I hurl the tap at him, hitting him square in the forehead, then I punch the glass, feeling it shatter and commence the two-hundred-foot descent. Wind howls through the opening.

    The conductor holds his bleeding head, while I stick my upper half out the window, and curve upwards. There¡¯s a deep groove on the roof that I sink my fingers into and pull myself out.

    I wish I could¡¯ve seen the look on the conductor¡¯s face as I disappear out the window and haul myself onto the train. I scramble to my feet in triumph. A little trivia about me was that I failed the physics part of my science lesson in both grade six and seven.

    The wind blasts me backwards and I hit the roof of the train with a thud, sliding along the slick surface. I was already at the end of the train, so there isn¡¯t much space for me to slide before I reach the edge. My heart accelerates tenfold as I realize the consequences if I fall now but thank whatever the hell is above because there¡¯s a metal bar along the edge, angled slightly upwards that people probably use for support when going from carriage to carriage. The god blessed bar doesn¡¯t stop my fall but makes me tumble once over so I¡¯m facing it, allowing my right arm to shoot out and grab it with three fingers. My left hand follows, and then I¡¯m dangling between carriages. Beneath me, I see the tracks run by. If I drop, I¡¯ll be crushed. To the sides is the endless expanse of blue. At least I thought it was blue when I first saw it, now it looks more greyish, more polluted.

    Before I can get lost in thoughts until my fingers give out and I fall to my doom, then end of carriage door opens and the conductor leans out, a red spot on his forehead. ¡°Are you insane?¡± he hollers.

    I respond with a hard kick to the face, and scramble back up. This time, I lie on my belly and army crawl up the smooth, red, delicately curved roof of the plane. How I peer over the edge to the murky water. Even from up here I can see mounds and mounds of heaped trash, collecting in the water. How I would¡¯ve wished to be a fish. Fish don¡¯t have to worry about the police. They don¡¯t need to worry about if they¡¯ve done too many drugs for their age. They don¡¯t need to worry about if their friends hate their guts because of all the shitty things they¡¯ve done. But then again, the do need to worry about sharks. If there are any left, of course.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    I flip onto my back, staring up into the light blue sky, dotted with scraggly clouds. Maybe a bird would be better. You can soar, high in the sky, only coming down to eat worms and stuff. Everybody knows the mating season, so when that time rolls around you just pump your juice until you¡¯re drier than an industrially milked cow, and you¡¯ve got like half a year to recharge. Sounds great to me. If I wasn¡¯t choking on all the damn smog hovering around in the atmosphere. I want to fly. I want to swim. Maybe I should¡¯ve been a duck. Ducks can do all that and more. Sounds great. No, because then I wouldn¡¯t be able to run. I need to run, that¡¯s a priority. Run as fast as a wolf, and as nimble as a deer. That¡¯s me.

    When I roll back over, land is back beneath the train. Grass. Real freaking grass! I don¡¯t remember the last time I saw its beautiful, dewy, green blades!

    Without thinking twice, I launch myself off the roof of the train, the ground moving faster than an autowalk beneath me. I land and my legs are in the air, my face is in the dirt, my arms are behind me. I spin, I roll, I tumble, I twist, I fall, all the while tasting the wet, organic taste of grass. It¡¯s not like the plastic wrapped salads you can buy at a supermarket. It¡¯s not like the fragments of potted plants in a cubicle office. This surrounds me. This envelopes me. When I roll to a halt, every bone in my body hurts, but I giggle with closed eye glee. I don¡¯t need to see right now. Sight is the most important sense to humans, and that¡¯s the same reason we neglect all of our other ones.

    My bruised hands feel the wet, blades of tall grass beneath them. My head is cushioned by a pillow of wet soil. My nostrils fill with earthly scents that make me twitch with joy, like as if I¡¯m having an orgasm.

    When my eye¡¯s finally do open, instead of the warm glow of the sun beaming down on me, I see a face. A feminine face with long, black hair that almost reaches me. ¡°Are you¡­ alright?¡± she asks.

    I laugh.

    She offers me a hand.

    I take it with my wet, bruised, dirt covered one, and let her pull me up. My head spins, and I feel like I¡¯m going to throw up¡­ or faint. I tip towards her, and she catches me.

    ¡°Woah, dude,¡± she says, holding me upright by the shoulders. ¡°So,;k DJKJFK I uh¡­ saw you fling yourself off the roof of the train just now. You high on something I should know about?¡±

    When I finally blink the spinning away, I see her face properly. She¡¯s Asian, with nice features and I body I can¡¯t complain about. She wears a purple checked hoodie, a black T-shirt with a skull that says, ¡°The system is killing us¡±, blood red leggings and black skateboard shoes. She¡¯s got purple feathers, braided into her hair.

    ¡°High on life,¡± I tell her, with a tooth grin.

    She laughs. ¡°My kinda guy!¡± she gives me a punch. ¡°Names Kezlin Karactus, and you are?¡±

    ¡°Kallix. Kallix Rane,¡± I tell her, expecting her to recoil in shock.

    ¡°Sick name. Kallix and Kezlin, has a ring to it.¡±

    I hear a yip. I look down to see a little, dark brown dog, with a mustache that makes it look like an old man. ¡°Hey there,¡± I practically squeal, dropping down and ruffling its fur.

    ¡°Dog guy, huh? Me too. That¡¯s Jiffy.¡±

    ¡°Why¡¯d you call him Jiffy?¡± I ask, cuddling him close to my face.

    ¡°Because he¡¯s so fast that wherever he goes, he¡¯s back in a jiffy!¡±

    I laugh and look around. Other people are walking through the grass with dogs on leashes, chatting with each other as the dogs sniffed at the surroundings. ¡°What is this place?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Galagheri park. It¡¯s where all the dog owners go to socialize. How¡­ don¡¯t you know about it?¡±

    I look up at here. ¡°Is that your most pressing question right now?¡± I ask her, gesturing to my dirt smeared face.

    ¡°Usually when people fling themselves off the roof of the train they do it over the water, not over the garden,¡± she laughs.

    ¡°Really? How can somebody coming suicide when they have this?¡± I ask, scooping up a wad of dirt and taking in a long breath as I press it to my nose.

    Rather than getting grossed out, Kezlin laughs. ¡°You¡¯re not from around here I take it.¡±

    I shake my head. ¡°Not in the slightest. I¡¯m from West Side.¡±

    ¡°Really? How is it? I always wished to go there.¡±

    I scoff. ¡°You don¡¯t. I left that shithole where it belongs. Not a speck of greenery as far as the eye can see. From what I¡¯ve see, East Side has got it figured out!¡± I exclaim, tossing the dirt in the air. It rains down on us.

    Some of the other people in Galagheri park stare at me in shock, but Kezlin laughs again. ¡°Would you mind if I showed you around a bit? We could get a drink, then crash at my place for the night. What¡¯d¡¯you say?¡±

    I nod vigorously. ¡°You¡¯re asking a mole if he wants to dig.¡±

    She leans close to me and whispers. ¡°I¡¯m a mole, asking a mole if he wants to dig. Come on!¡± she takes my hand and starts to run.

    My hip hurts with every gait, and the side of my left knee feels like the bone is stabbing the tendon, but my shoulder is no longer aching agonizingly, and I wear the smile I haven¡¯t put on in far too long.

    She leads me through the garden, to the flower beds, through the hedge maze, past the fishpond and out the others side. When we emerge, we¡¯re giggling, drunk on the newfound stranger love that we drown in. We reach a road, the first asphalt I¡¯ve seen. A long, eccentric motorbike with purple, flaming roses lining its side is propped up on it¡¯s kickstand. ¡°That¡¯s not¡­¡±

    ¡°It is,¡± Kezlin reassures, slipping onto it.

    ¡°Wait, wait hold on a second,¡± I say backing up. ¡°You¡¯re too cool. This can¡¯t be right. Are you sure you¡¯re not lesbian?¡±

    She nearly dies with laughter. ¡°Don¡¯t worry Kaly, I¡¯m straight enough for you, but don¡¯t mind a threesome every now and then.¡±

    ¡°C¡­can you see the hearts fluttering out of my eyes right now?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Stop flattering me and get on,¡± she gestures.

    I slide on behind her, wrapping my hands around her waist. She revs the engine and we¡¯re on the road, my hair flying behind me like a flag.

    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t we be wearing helmets?¡± I ask, nervously glancing at the cars as she weaves past them.

    ¡°What? You don¡¯t trust me? Think I¡¯ll crash?¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ um¡­¡±

    In response, she rears the front wheel in the air, making me scream in terror and hold onto her for my dear damn life. When we land, I hear her laughter over the noise of the engine.

    ¡°Screw you,¡± I breath.

    ¡°That scared you? You just jumped off a freaking train!¡±

    ¡°My fears are very particular,¡± I explain, pushing her fluttering hair to the side.

    She leans into me. ¡°That¡¯s a girl¡¯s hoodie. Who¡¯d you get it from? Got a girlfriend?¡±

    ¡°What? No! It¡¯s¡­ my sister¡¯s.¡±

    She laughs. ¡°I love how defensive you got. But honestly, you don¡¯t have a damn sister.¡±

    ¡°Why not?¡±

    ¡°Guys like you don¡¯t wear their sister¡¯s hoodies.¡±

    ¡°Guys like me?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t care if you have a girlfriend, Kallix. Let¡¯s just have some fun today!¡± she hollers, accelerating so fast my stomach tries to lunge out my mouth.

    When she finally slows down, it¡¯s at a small roadside caf¨¦. She hits open the kickstand and helps me off. She lets go of my hand and excitedly flings the door open. ¡°Two of your finest!¡± she announces.

    I¡¯m instantly self conscious behind her, but I relax when I see the server, with her same skin tone, same thin dark hair and Asian eyes. ¡°You picked up a stray raccoon?¡± he asks, nodding at me.

    ¡°Kallix, this is Jereva, my idiot brother. Fetch us something nice. We have places to be.¡±

    Jereva extends a hand to me. I take it. His grip is strong, and his hands are calloused, just like my brother¡¯s. He¡¯s probably the same age as Kaloaan too.

    Kezlin flops down on one of two chairs at a tiny, rustic, metal table. I cautiously sit down next to her.

    ¡°So, the myth is true. Men¡¯s biggest fears besides a girl¡¯s dad is a girl¡¯s brother. Oh, and motorcycles of course.¡±

    I can¡¯t help but laugh. ¡°If diamonds are a girl¡¯s best friend, then yeah.¡±

    ¡°Hey, if you pop me a diamond right now, I¡¯m not going to complain, but as my brother said, you¡¯re shaggier than a raccoon, so I¡¯m not expecting jack. At least you know I¡¯m not a gold digger,¡± she shrugs.

    ¡°I¡¯ll have you know I¡¯ve met a couple very well kempt raccoons, for your information.¡±

    Jereva returns, placing two drinks in sealed carton coffee cups before us. The warm waft from the small drinking hole tells Kallix that it¡¯s anything but coffee.

    ¡°Come on let¡¯s go!¡± Kezlin announces, her cup in one hand and my wrist in another. She leads me back onto her bike. After a short, terrifying, one-handed ride, she stops. ¡°This building here, top floor is mine. But take a look at this.¡±

    She leads me through the crepuscular light over a short distance, to a bridge. It¡¯s an ancient, stone arch bridge, with moss, real moss, growing from them. She takes my hand, and we walk side by side to the highest point. I¡¯m in awe.

    As I lean over the aged, stone wall of the bridge, I see blue, non-polluted water, glittering with the light of setting sun, a massive, flaming, orange-red semicircle on the horizon. The vertical panorama, shaped by the tall buildings on either side of me, is painted with a crescendo of colors, starting with dazzling oranges and yellows that transcend to alluring reds and purples, and finally, drift to dark blues and on towards the west, towards my home, black. The western horizon, however, isn¡¯t entirely black, but a fuzzy grey with the soft lights of West Side. My home.

    ¡°Beautiful, isn¡¯t it?¡± she asks, her eyes sparkling in the dusk light like the water beneath us.

    I¡¯m so awestruck, I forget. I forget that I have a wall surrounding me, holding me strong and steadfast. The guards within me are transfixed on the sunset before me. A spectacle I have never, in my sixteen years, seen something as beautiful. For the briefest moment, the damn within my heart is opened.

    ¡°Oh my gosh, Kallix, you¡¯re crying,¡± Kezlin realizes, reaching for my sunglasses.

    I turn away from her. I need to run. I need to get out of here. I move forward, but she grabs my wrist.

    ¡°Don¡¯t run,¡± she pleads.

    I freeze, my back to her. She slides her hand up my arm and around me, up my chest pass my neck, and to my Ray Bands. Slowly, gently, starts to slide them off my face.

    I jerk. She kisses my neck. ¡°Kallix it¡¯s ok. You¡¯re safe. You¡¯re alright.¡±

    She must be able to feel my heart racing within my chest. My system has failed. I¡¯m on lockdown. Everything within me is haywire. It¡¯s not supposed to be like this.

    I¡¯m tantalized as she slides them further and further off my face until she sees my eyes. My tears, red-rimmed, bloodshot, plain brown eyes. A single tear, with no strength to hold it anymore, escapes. It rolls over my cheekbone, and into my dirt smeared cheek. Instead of stopping. Instead of allowing itself to be caught in the grooves and the troughs. Instead of letting itself be absorbed, it pushes on. It reroutes, switching direction as it snakes down until it reaches the corner of my mouth, but even then it doesn¡¯t stop. The single tear I shed, for Tauren and Wesslin, for Rieka and Deqar, for Malyk and Salif, for my mum and dad and brother, for the city, for the animals that once roamed that land, for the sunset before me, and for Kezlin, reaches my chin and drops. It falls for an eternity as the world slows down and infinity passes. My existence dissolves into oblivion. My worries, my trauma, my anxiety. It culminates to the breaking point. To the sum of who I am, and then it explodes more spectacularly than the big bang. But when Kezlin¡¯s lips reach mine, time catches up. It moves fast enough to make up for the infinity it lost, slamming into me like a tidal wave of all my joy, all my highs, all my thrills, and all my freedom.

    My shades fall from Kezlin¡¯s hand onto the stone floor, and she presses herself against me.

    I don¡¯t stop to pick them up.

    I don¡¯t force her away.

    I don¡¯t run.

    For the first time in my life, I don¡¯t run.

 1.11: The Foraging Raven

    11

    I wake up feeling like I¡¯m on a cloud. The soft, clean blankets that engulf me are bathed in morning sunlight and for the first time in years, the first thing I do is smile. I stretch out my limbs and bury deeper into the blankets. Beneath them, it¡¯s the perfect kind of warm, but my head and arms above them are basking in the clandestine sun rays. My head sinks into a feather soft pillow, so squishy that I hug it close to me and pull up my knees.

    ¡°I have never seen somebody smile in their sleep that much before,¡± Kezlin comments from beside me. I open one eye to see her propped on a couple pillows so she¡¯s sitting upright and gazing out the huge, floor to ceiling window that makes up the entire wall, showcasing the end of the awe-striking sunrise.

    ¡°This is fantastic,¡± I say with a crack in my voice.

    She reaches over and picks up a glass of water from her bedside, then hands it to me. I grateful glug it down, and sit up, transfixed on the sunrise. ¡°So, what do you want to do today?¡±

    ¡°First, I¡¯m going to take a piss,¡± I announce, tearing myself away from the heavenly warmth and onto the cold tile floor.

    ¡°Hey, take a shower while you¡¯re at it!¡± she calls after me.

    A shower? Is she saying that I smell? Well yeah, I probably reek. I haven¡¯t taken a shower in months after all. Not since I went to that hotel to stay a night, then was gone before check-out. Hilarious. I walk into her crisply clean bathroom, painted with blues and purples, with little fish dancing across the walls. I open the lid of the toilet and relieve myself. As it flows, I notice that there isn¡¯t a single makeup appliance on the sink, nor is there a cupboard where there could be one.

    I find myself searching for anything that could be some sort of cosmetic appliance, but I find none. Wow. Then, as I examine myself in the mirror, I almost wish she did have some cosmetic appliances. My eyes and cheeks are sunken, like a zombie, dirt smudges still paint my face artistically, and my hair is so tangled that I can¡¯t run my finger through it. I¡¯m not wearing my jeans or the hoodie, but my stained, red checked boxers. I remember the day I bought them. I still lived with my parents.

    ¡°Mom, can I get these ones,¡± I had asked.

    ¡°Why? What¡¯s wrong with the ones you have at home?¡±

    ¡°They were smalllllll. I want real boxers, like Brandin.¡±

    ¡°Ok honey but those are too big for you.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll grow into them mom, I swear.¡±

    ¡°Alright, if you want them¡­ it¡¯s your underwear after all.¡±

    I had never really grown into them. All my childhood I had expected to reach six foot, or at least near it, like Kaloaan, but here I am, not even five foot nine, and wearing oversized, dirty, red checked boxers.

    I pull them off, and pad to the shower. I turn it on, adjust the temperature until it¡¯s hot enough to make me tingle, but not burn me. I step in and relax. The pressure of the water massages my shoulders, and the warmth engulfs me. I rinse my mouth and let the water pour directly into my face, through my hair and down my back. Dirt swirls at my feet, and then down into the drain. My past. My mistakes. My flaws. I already left them behind. I don¡¯t have to go back to them. I could wash them off like the dirt caked to my chest. I close my eyes and try my best to get the dirt out of my scalp. I then see a couple of shampoos, shower jells and body lotions. I consider masturbating, but then decide against it, taking a purple shower jell and dripping it over my chest. I use her sponge, hope she won¡¯t mind, and scrub my past away from me. I scrub away my family. I scrub away the Swifters. I scrub away the doctors. I scrub away the police. I scrub until I¡¯m crisply clean.

    I turn back to the tap, and sharply switch it to cold. I fell my adrenaline surge and my heartrate quicken, then I turn it back to hot, relishing the feeling of the warmth pulling me back from the iciness. I turn off the towel, grab a soft pink towel and dry myself then reach down for my clothes, but they¡¯re gone. I glance around, but they¡¯re nowhere to be found. I wrap the towel around my waist and open the door. ¡°Kezlin?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry I took your clothes to wash,¡± she explains. She¡¯s also wrapped in a pink towel. ¡°Now come here I want you to try something.¡±

    I pad over to her, standing next to her and facing the ocean before us. Only the last bits of the sun touch the horizon. Then she drops her towel, exposing her glory to the watery world.

    ¡°Come on, do the same.¡±

    ¡°The hell? Why?¡±

    She pulls the towel from me and chucks it across the room. There I am, standing completely naked, next to Kezlin, who is also completely naked.

    ¡°Come on,¡± she takes my hand, and leads me through a door, up a staircase, out onto the flat roof of her apartment. The view only gets more stunning, but this time, it¡¯s combined with the crisp, warm, morning air, and the smell of the sea wafting against us. ¡°Isn¡¯t it¡­ liberating?¡± she asks. ¡°To have the wind touching each part of you equally? To expose yourself as you are naturally with no consequence? To be naked, with somebody of the opposite sex, but in a completely natural, nonsexual way?¡±

    At first, I¡¯m uncomfortable, and find myself glancing at the other apartments. Never would I think that I, Kallix Rane, would be the self-conscious one. After a few moments, a learn that it¡¯s truly therapeutic. You¡¯re not anxious that somebody will see you. You¡¯re not mischievous that your breaking the law. You¡¯re not lustful that you¡¯ll get to be touched. You¡¯re just purely natural, a feeling that¡¯s been lost with the industrialization of the modern world.

    ¡°When you look at it from here,¡± she breaths. ¡°In the grand scheme of things, none of this jack shit matters. Right?¡±

    I nod, slowly.

    Not too long after, I shiver. She smiles at me. ¡°Let¡¯s go back inside. Getting cold.¡±

    I¡¯m not looking at her breasts, or her vagina. As she turns, I don¡¯t look at her backside or her thighs. I merely follow her back to her room. I feel cleansed.

    We get back into bed, as I wait for my clothes to finish in her dryer. It feels odd, but good to have my bare penis touch against the blanket. When they finish, I slip them on. Soft, pampered and clean. The boxers first, then my jeans. But there¡¯s nothing else.

    ¡°Hey, Kelzin,¡± I call, without turning to her. ¡°Where¡¯s my hoodie?¡±

    ¡°Oh shit! I¡¯m sorry, I forgot, it¡¯s on the balcony.¡±

    I nod and open the sliding door. It lies in a crumpled heap in the corner. I pick it up, but don¡¯t put it on and walk back inside.

    ¡°Do you want some?¡± Kezlin asks.

    I stop, dead in my tracks. Before me, Kezlin inserts a needle with a clear, gelatinous substance within it, into the inside of her elbow. Her eyelids flutter with pleasure. ¡°I¡­ I¡¯ve got plenty around here, if you want some,¡± she says, her words turning slurred.

    My heart starts to race.

    ¡°Hey, man, don¡¯t worry. It¡¯s cheaper over here on East Side,¡± she says with a grin, flopping backwards onto her bed.

    ¡°Uh huh, and why¡¯s that,¡± I say, inching towards the door.

    ¡°Manufactured here. This is the homeland!¡± she shrieks.

    I stop and cock my head. ¡°Who is in charge of this? And where are they?¡±

    ¡°Oh that¡¯s easy! It¡¯s on Foragger road¡­ Tweny second, I think¡­¡±A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    ¡°And who is the leader? Who is in charge?¡±

    ¡°No¡¯ody knows his name,¡± she slurs. ¡°Bu¡¯, we call him, Ravven.¡±

    ¡°Ravven. Thanks.¡±

    ¡°B¡¯cause he¡¯s¡­ ravvegous,¡± she continuous, sitting up.

    ¡°Nice time with you,¡± I tell her, slipping out her door. I fly down the stairs and out onto the road. Of course. She couldn¡¯t have been that perfect.

    As I run, I put on Rieka¡¯s hoodie, her soft, candy smell is still prevalent over my musk. My past hasn¡¯t left me. It clings to me like a spiderweb. But this Ravven bastard? I¡¯m going to get rid of him. He¡¯s the shit who ruined so many people. Who destroyed so many childhoods. Who wrecked so many friendships. Who shredded people¡¯s lives from the roots, forcing them to fend for themselves on the streets when they were twelve. I don¡¯t kill people, but this Ravven guy might just be special.

    ~

    Twenty second Foragger road. This is my destination. A giant, warehouse sized building, covered in tarps and scaffoldings. I can scarcely make out the name and its slogan beneath. K and H, everything you need to build your dream home. The building is so big that it¡¯s hard to imagine the police of East Side haven¡¯t suspected it yet. From where I stand on the road before it, I can¡¯t exactly see much of it. I would¡¯ve gone on the opposite building¡¯s roof like I did as Hubarickers, but there is none. I see no guards or doormen or even a door. Might as well try my luck.

    I walk through the doorway and find myself in an abandoned waiting area, with bank teller like glassed off spaces. I clamber over one the glass barriers and into the cubicle. It¡¯s got a monitor, tablet, a couple strewn about notebooks, pens, pencils, and an already looted cash drawer. This must¡¯ve been where they took in orders and relayed it to the workers.

    I push through a door at the end of the cubicle into something like a workers lounge. Coffee mugs, plastic cups and half-finished crosswords are strewn about, littering the ugly colored sofas. The people here must¡¯ve left in a hurry. I see another, thickset, metal door in the corner, and move to it, but it¡¯s locked.

    A key card reader is implanted next to it. I look up to see if I can lift a ceiling panel up and move through the attic space, but it¡¯s solid. Fortunately, it only takes about thirty minutes of rummaging through the cubicles before I find one. Back in the lounge, I¡¯m about to swipe it, when I see the name written. Jereva Karactus. Kezlin¡¯s brother. He must¡¯ve been working here before Ravven came.

    One swipe and the door clicks open. I push through and find myself in an utterly massive storage facility. Hundred upon thousands of boxes lay scattered across the vast space. Ten times as many are stacked in gargantuan shelves that rise fifty feet high. Dozens of moving vehicles are placed throughout the room. I move to the nearest box and tear it open. Is this all the Bansilin? Have they been hiding it in plane sight all this time?

    I pull the carboard flap to the side, only to see a thick layer of packing peanuts. I delve my hand inside, and quickly piles of sealed plastic bags. I yank one out, but to my dismay, it¡¯s filled with bolts.

    Why did I think it would be a good idea to take advice from somebody higher than the clouds? Dumbass. A sharp sound, metal on metal, shrieks through the room for the briefest of moments. I spin around. A rat, scurries from across the floor and under the shelf. As I pop one of my pills, I notice a nearby lifting truck. My steps are quiet, but in here, they sound like thunder. My eye catches onto a bullet hole through the yellow metal of the vehicle. A fight? Must¡¯ve been. A short one. I don¡¯t see any others, nor is there any blood.

    I spend the next half our walking through the aisles and tearing open boxes and looking for anything that might help me. Could just be an abandoned warehouse. It makes sense for it to be here, but it might be wrong. If there is any sort of factory, it¡¯s upside down, like the one in West Side. But that gargantuan generator electrical thingy was no drug producing factory. That was something else. Something for another day.

    After I¡¯ve searched every nook and cranny for the tell tale pills, or sealed plastic bags of clear liquid, every wall for a hidden door, and every vehicle for a clue, I slump down against a giant tire and sigh.

    ¡°Damn. What a waist of a day. What a freaking waist.¡±

    Ravven. Ravven is the bastard behind all of this. Ravven isn¡¯t his real name, and he¡¯s not called Ravven because he¡¯s ravvegous. That¡¯s not a word. Ravven. Ravven, Ravven, Ravven. Sounds like Raven. Ravens are birds. Birds that are often friends with wolves. Partnership. Symbiotic relationship. I like wolves. What do Ravens do? They hunt, they scout, they eat, they forage¡­ Foragger road. Ravens forage. Ravven on Foragger road. This is definitely the right place.

    I spring to my feet and begin to pace. What must sound like nonsensical muttering escapes my lips. ¡°Foraging Raven. What¡¯s the Foraging Raven? What do ravens like to forage? Food scraps? Bones? Stuff for their nests? This is the Foraging Raven¡¯s nest. Makes sense. Doesn¡¯t help me. If this is the foraging raven¡¯s nest, then its stuff must be at the bottom. That¡¯s where a raven keeps its eggs. At the bottom of the nest. Obviously. So, the stuff is at the bottom. But how do you get to the bottom? Well first you have to be on the nest. Then you just kind of step off that edge part and you¡¯re at the bottom. Not very complex. But how do you get to the nest in the first place? Well, if you¡¯re a raven, then you have to fly to the nest. If I¡¯m not at the nest yet, that means I need to fly to it. If I were a raven, but I¡¯m a human. For the most part. That means¡­ I need to climb.¡±

    My head snaps up to the ceiling. Construction beams crisscross, beneath the higher, metal roof. I scamper to a ladder raise it to the top shelf and commence my ascent. If jogging had a climbing equivalent, that¡¯s what I would be doing right now. It doesn¡¯t take me long to reach the top, but the ladder only reaches to top shelf. Not the top of the shelf. I spring up, grabbing the edge and hauling myself up. The height is daunting, but nothing compared to the skyscraper, or the train. The top has half an inch of dust, that blooms when I step on it making me erupt with coughing. I cover my nose and mouth with the hoodie and look around. Nothing. Flat shelf top. Fantastic.

    My eyes scan the tops of the other shelves, when I see a plank of wood perched from the top of one shelf, propped precariously up to one of the metal support beams. I lie flat on my chest, reach my arm down over the edge and grab the upper rung of the ladder. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve every achieved such a difficult feat of physical strength as lifting the end of the ladder up high enough for me to use the edge as an axis. I grip the rungs and pull, then release, letting the bottom of the ladder catch itself on the lowest shelf opposite to me. I pull, lift it up and drop it onto a higher shelf. I continue this process, of pushing the top of the ladder down, sliding it up, and releasing until the huge thing is caught on the second highest shelf, and then diagonally up over the edge, stretching high towards the roof. I pull it up one last time, allowing it to fall over the tops of the other shelves with a loud smack. I let myself flop onto my side, drenched in sweat despite the warehouse being undeniably chilly.

    Wouldn¡¯t it have just been easier to go down the ladder and go up the one where the wooden plank was? Dumb¡­ass. Pure dumb ass. Not fine ass. Not smart ass. Not even plane old ass. You¡¯re a dumbass.

    When my chest stops heaving, and the twitching in my biceps reduce, I grab the edges of the ladder and slide it across the tops of the shelves. I start crawling, slowly and precariously between shelves. It¡¯s not difficult, it¡¯s just slow. I¡¯m just glad there¡¯s no wind, or this would¡¯ve been next to impossible. The rhythm envelopes me. Push, slide, crawl. Push, slide, crawl. Push slide crawl. Finally, I reach the right shelf, and teeter to the wooden plank. It isn¡¯t fixed by anything, but rather just rests with one side against the metal beam, and the other on the top of the shelf. If I put any pressure, it will slide, I will fall, and I will die. Perfect.

    I grab the end of the giant ladder again and haul it to the edge of the shelf I¡¯m on, and move the plank so it¡¯s somewhat snug against a ladder rung. That will give me some friction. It¡¯s my weight against the weight of the ladder. I have one shot. A misstep, or not being quick enough means I turn into a bloody pancake on the bottom of an abandoned warehouse. Not how I want to die. Luckily, I¡¯m Kallix Rane. I don¡¯t misstep. And I am usually quick enough.

    I place one foot, tentatively on the beam. One shot.

    I move with lightning speed, stepping on and rocketing myself off with so much force that I hit the metal beam with my collarbone, but manage to wrap one arm around it. I¡¯m dangling by the crook of my arm. Painfully. I swing my legs around so I¡¯m clinging to the beam like a sloth when the wooden plank falls away and lands on the ground with an obnoxiously loud clatter for something its weight.

    I haul myself up to the side of the beam and lie flat down. It¡¯s barely as wide as me. For a moment, I wallow in the pain of my collarbone being smashed against the metal and the twitching of my right bicep for being overstrained. Then I¡¯m on my feet, walking with my arms out like I¡¯m on a tightrope. Probably isn¡¯t leading anywhere. Probably shouldn¡¯t have done all this bullshit based on my goldfish sense of deduction. Probably should stop moving as fast as I am.

    As I near the end to the support beam, glinting in the shadows before me. There¡¯s a small area, shrouded in darkness, past the wall but beneath the ceiling, where all the support beams end. I step onto it, and sure enough, hidden away in the corner, is a little¡­ something. Not really sure what it is.

    I walk to it, dust billowing up behind me to a little, metal box. The top is plastic, covered in a thick layer of dust. I swipe it away to see a set of dials and buttons beneath it. I lift the plastic case off as set it aside, taking in all the meaningless signs and colors. Too many buttons. Too many options. Then I see a large green one, with ENT written on it. Eel North Trucks. The hell is ENT? Maybe it¡¯s not ENT, but ent. Ent like enter. Screw it.

    I slam my thumb down on the button, and the ground beneath me starts to shudder. Behind me, the floor slides away to reveal a clean, dust free, steel staircase.

    ¡°Holy shit,¡± I mutter. Tentatively, I creep down the stairs. ¡°Holy mother of goddy shit.¡±

    Factory noises, hisses, clinks, revs and stuff echo into my ears. When I reach the bottom, there¡¯s a long white blue hall. I pad down for half a minute or so until I reach a door. I open it, to see that I¡¯m on the base of a catwalk, stretching over a giant conveyor belt, with different levels and machines working around it. Dozens of people, most of whom are armed with guns, man each and every station. I can see white powders, clear chunks, and dozens of other things moving along the conveyor. At the end, which is just beneath me, the little clear pills fall into plastic bags, which are sealed and transported out of the room. I found it. I freaking found it.

 1.12: Alliances and Aberrations

    12

    Luckily, my senses had come to me, and I hadn¡¯t tried to take on the entire base in a suicidal bombing mission armed with nothing but a heart full of rage. Taking down the heart of Bansilin manufacturing is no one man job. But I think it might be a two man job. The way back had been long and tiring, but necessary. Hopefully, it would pay off.

    36 Raffling Road, just as he¡¯d told me when I met him. Now, standing in front of the large red door, I feel nervous to ring the doorbell. I force myself to do it anyway.

    The door swings open, and Malyk stands before me, tall, with his thin shaggy hair dangling around his face. The undershirt vest he¡¯s wearing makes him look lankier than he already is.

    It looks like a kerfuffle of emotions barrage through his mind before me.

    ¡°I know,¡± I start. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I shouldn¡¯t have run like I did. I heard that you saved the day. Right?¡±

    He breathes once, then says. ¡°That was a pretty dick thing to do.¡±

    I nod.

    ¡°But I heard that Tauren ran as well.¡±

    I nod again.

    ¡°You heard about Wesslin?¡±

    I nod a third time.

    He sighs. ¡°Come in.¡±

    He leads me into his house, which is narrow but comfy. He sits on a sessel, and I sit opposite to him, across a glass coffee table, on a brown sofa. His eyebrows jump, and he strides to the kitchen, returning with two glasses of frothy green liquid. He sets one in front of me. ¡°It should ease our conversation.¡±

    I nod and take a sip. It tastes tangy like pickles but is fizzy like soda.

    ¡°So. What can I do you for, my friend?¡± he asks.

    I clear my throat. ¡°How old are you?¡±

    ¡°Um. Twenty five, why?¡±

    ¡°Twenty five, and you have your own house?¡±

    ¡°Well yeah. My parents were well off. Dead now. Don¡¯t worry about it.¡±

    I nod. ¡°Well, we might need some of that money.¡±

    ¡°We?¡±

    ~

    ¡°Kallix, I don¡¯t think you understand what the hell your talking about,¡± Malyk says, as if he¡¯s unable to grasp what I just explained to him.

    ¡°We can do it,¡± I reassure. ¡°With the plan, if we move quickly and effectively¡­¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not a bloody plan!¡± he shouts. ¡°We¡¯ll get shot if we don¡¯t succeed and blown up if we do.¡±

    ¡°Are you against Bansilin?¡±

    ¡°Well yeah of course.¡±

    ¡°Do you know who killed Wesslin?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. I killed the bastard who did.¡±

    ¡°But do you know who that they were sent by a mafia group led by a woman named Qiara who are killing anybody influential that¡¯s against Bansilin?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m hardly influential.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not the point! Good people are getting killed! We can stop it and get rid of Bansilin at the same time.¡±

    Malyk reclines and takes a long sip of his drink. ¡°You¡¯re not exactly the type to do something because people are getting killed.¡±

    I flinch.

    ¡°So why do you want this place taken down. And why are you ready to risk your life.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not ready to risk my life. I never am. I want this shit down because its ruining people¡¯s lives, including my own, and I wouldn¡¯t be talking to you right now if I thought we would die doing it.¡±

    Malyk licks the last of his drink from his lips. ¡°We go in, we scout it out, and we come back, think of a plan. A real plan. Maybe I can get us some contacts that can help us.¡±

    ~

    I¡¯ve got an hour until I¡¯m supposed to meet Malyk, my sole ally. One and a half hour before the next train leaves for East Side. As I stand, facing the neon train schedule, somebody bumps against my shoulder.

    ¡°Watch it, bumblebee,¡± I mutter.

    Whoever it was takes no notice, and stands next to me, their face hidden beneath a cowl that covers their entire body so that lightweight black boots are all I can see.

    He stares at the ground, then taps my wrist twice, pivots and walks away.

    I glance at him as he walks towards the parking lot, then disappears between two cars. What the hell? No choice now.

    I turn and follow him, glancing around as inconspicuously as possible for security cameras. When I see none, I duck down between a huge black pickup and an ugly green saloon car. I lie flat down and slide under the car, then stand next to the shadowy figure.

    ¡°Wanna tell me who the hell you are?¡±

    ¡°Hold on a second,¡± he mutters, still turned away from me, he pulls up his sleeve to reveal look at his watch. He stands and beckons me to follow.

    Mystery man leads me into an alleyway, where at the end I can see another, taller man covered similarly.

    Suddenly, he swivels around and drops the cowl. Big, missing tooth grin, sun battered skin, scraggly mustache, eyeshadow, purple mohawk and all, Deqar laughs. He grips me in a huge bear hug, one of his hands sliding down to my ass. I push him away.

    ¡°Freaking hell,¡± I mutter.

    The second one strides to us. Varan. He punches me hard in the shoulder. ¡°Dick. Freaking made me talk to that hag Shei guy for like an hour!¡¯

    ¡°Didn¡¯t you, get arrested?¡± I ask Deqar.

    ¡°Totally. Because you bastards left my bleeding ass to die. They took me to some drug addict rehab shit. Busted out in a day,¡± he laughs.

    My feet shift, ready to run. ¡°I swear if you¡¯re gonna knock me out and I¡¯ll wake up with a damn headache in that bloody building again-¡±

    ¡°Naww, don¡¯t worry about it,¡± Deqar assures, stepping back. ¡°We ditched that twat. Once and for all.¡±This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Varan nods. ¡°I knew he was a dick, but after I heard about your dad I couldn¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°Who? Zorikan? You guys left him?¡±

    Deqar nods excitedly.

    ¡°Right! That¡¯s awesome!¡± I exclaim. ¡°Now we can¡­ we can get back at him.¡±

    ¡°Back at him? You want to fight against Zorikan?¡±

    I nod wearily. ¡°Teach him a lesson. Don¡¯t you think? He¡¯s a dick. Dicks like him deserve to be snapped. Dicks like us deserve to be road by nice, round asses.¡±

    The two ex-Swifters burst into laughter. ¡°Bro, you¡¯re hilarious,¡± Varan says through high pitched giggles.

    ¡°But you don¡¯t fight Zorikan,¡± Deqar cuts. ¡°That¡¯s insanity. You¡¯d have better luck waging war against the police force, rather than him.¡±

    ¡°Why¡¯s that?¡± I ask. ¡°I¡¯ve evaded him twice. He¡¯s cruel, ruthless sure, but he¡¯s not a freaking god. How many men does he have? I¡¯ve only ever seen you two, Rieka and that brute Dainin.¡±

    ¡°Zorikan likes to hide his numbers. Nobody really knows how many men he¡¯s got in his pocket. Hell, we don¡¯t even know. All we know is our crew, of us and Rieka. Different crews don¡¯t really interact with each other much. No idea how many crews he¡¯s got. Plus he¡¯s got allies, tons of them, with different underground and aboveground organizations that he helps out sometimes in return for goods, favors, money, or whatever he wants. It¡¯s suicide to go against him.¡±

    I shrug. ¡°Fine. I¡¯m actually committing suicide right now, want to join me?¡±

    Deqar raises an eyebrow. ¡°More suicidal than going against Zorikan?¡±

    ¡°Dunno. Not sure, but it sure as hell is big. Biggest stunt that would ever. We¡¯d go down in the hall of fame for this. Might get filthy rich while we¡¯re at it. I¡¯m just looking for a couple allies at the moment.¡±

    Varan and Deqar glance at each other, then lean in. ¡°Tell us more.¡±

    ¡°Bansilin. The biggest selling product in the city. It¡¯s more persistent than rats. Police have been trying to get rid of it for years, but it only grows more popular.¡±

    ¡°What are you proposing,¡± Varan asks.

    ¡°I found the factory. I found the base. I found the manufacturers. Whatever you call it, I found it.¡±

    They gawk. ¡°That shit¡¯s been searched for since four years!¡±

    ¡°I know, and I found it. We go in, we blow that shit sky high, frustrate a lot of wealthy people. You know how Bansilin is literally holding our economy together? Everybody is rich because of it, right?¡±

    They nod vigorously.

    ¡°We topple to pyramid. Let¡¯s real, hard working people get where they want to go. Plus, if we manage to get our hands on some of it, we could sell the it for absolutely insane prices.¡±

    Deqar swallows, ¡°You, my friend, have just given me two boners in two minutes.¡±

    ¡°Wait. How on earth are we going to pull this off? What are the odds of us even succeeding?¡±

    ¡°We can figure that out later. Right now, my friend and I are rallying up as many people as possible and going to scout it out.¡±

    ¡°Scout what out?¡± asks somebody.

    The three of us turn. I gasp escapes my throat.

    Zorikan, with his chiseled arms and pale grey eyes stands before us, at the entrance of the alleyway. His sole earing glints in the sunlight.

    I flinch, ready to run like hell, when I hear the sound of a gun cocking. He holds up the uzi. ¡°One wrong move and you¡¯re dead.¡±

    The three of us glance at each other.

    ¡°Now tell me,¡± he instructs, walking closer. ¡°What is it that you¡¯re going to scout?¡±

    I bite my lip, unsure of what to say.

    Varan pipes up, speaking like as if he¡¯s having a nervous breakdown. ¡°The Bansilin factory. Kallix found it, and he thinks we can destroy it and stop production.¡±

    Zorikan¡¯s eyes open wide. ¡°What? You¡­ found the Bansilin factory? Yes, let¡¯s blow it sky high!¡±

    I gawk.

    He nods, lowering his uzi. ¡°Let¡¯s just say, Bansilin isn¡¯t great for the majority of my allies. Both them and I would benefit from being rid of it.¡±

    I¡¯m unsure of what to do when Zorikan continues, ¡°You think you can take it down?¡±

    I nod wearily.

    He holsters the weapon. ¡°Then you have my assistance. Deqar, Varan, good job at tracking Kallix down,¡± he says with an edge in his voice.

    They shuffle their feet uncomfortably.

    Zorikan looks at us expectantly, then jerks his head and turns around. ¡°Follow me.¡±

    ~

    His storm pale eyes make me shiver as he stares at me. The handgun in his outstretched arm that he grips by the barrel, glints in the moonlight. ¡°Take it,¡± he instructs. ¡°Six rounds in it. If you want any extra clips, they¡¯re the third left.¡±

    If his eyes are a storm, my eyes are lightning. I tilt my chin up and spit at him. With the elegance of a swan, he evades it, holding my gaze.

    ¡°You¡¯ll need it. This will be dangerous. I can¡¯t afford for you to be shot.¡±

    ¡°I need my dad.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t give you that. Your dad is the tie between us. He holds us together.¡±

    ¡°If I take this gun, I¡¯ll cock it and then I¡¯ll put a bullet in your forehead. And then another one in your chest. And then a third in your stomach.¡±

    ¡°That would be a waste of ammo. One shot would be more than enough. A headshot would be effective, but it wouldn¡¯t satisfy you. A stomach shot, and I might survive. You shouldn¡¯t take those chances. A chest shot would be ideal, if you miss my heart. I would die inevitably, and you would get to watch it. Watch my blood pool around your sneakers as you drop the gun. As you would walk out of the room, red stains would remain on the floor and a little on your shoes.¡±

    I snatch the gun from his hands and point it directly between his eyes. I¡¯m not going to give him the satisfaction of my obedience. I glance around to see if there are any guards, but the room is empty. ¡°Are there any guards waiting just outside the door?¡±

    He shakes his head. ¡°I don¡¯t do guards. If you work here, then you can take care of yourself.¡±

    I cock it and press the barrel to his forehead. ¡°You¡¯re a piece of shit.¡±

    ¡°So are you,¡± he responds. ¡°So pull the trigger.¡±

    I will. I¡¯ll blow his brains out, bust out of here, and go take down the Bansilin factory myself. I don¡¯t need shit from him. I¡¯ll go with Malyk, together and we¡¯ll¡­ we¡¯ll die.

    I switch the safety back on and tuck the gun into my waistband.

    Zorikan smiles. Not a wicked smile, nor a warm one, but the kind of smile that a business man makes. His perfectly white teeth shine. It¡¯s disgusting. ¡°You need me as much as I need you, probably more.¡±

    I smile back. I can¡¯t shoot him, but I sure as hell can acquaint his jaw with my knuckles. I swing.

    ~

    Note to self: Never challenge Zorikan in a fist fight. The scenes of him dodging, taking me down and nearly dislocating my shoulder flash through my mind as I wait for Malyk outside his doorstep. It¡¯s still sore as I roll it. Hopefully it doesn¡¯t affect me when we go in.

    To my dismay, a light drizzle commences, setting the tone for the events at hand. ¡°God freaking damnit,¡± I mutter, and pull my knees up closer. The concrete step is cold, and the wind bites at my neck, but Rieka¡¯s hoodie keeps me warm. It keeps me safe.

    The rain makes my tangled locks fall over my eyes, and drip down between my legs. My shades fog up, turning the street into a hazy painting, with rushing, disembodied figures passing by. I¡¯ll probably regret my decision. My weakness. Sissy? Yeah Mordecai, you¡¯re right. I am a freaking sissy. I¡¯m a little, bony piece of shit, sitting in the rain, like the piece of shit I am. Stupid piece of shit. Why didn¡¯t you pull the trigger? Huh? Why didn¡¯t you fu¡­

    ¡°Excuse me?¡±

    I lower my shades to see a woman in her late thirties leaning over me with an umbrella, shielding me from the downpour. She looks almost like my mom except she has blond curly hair. ¡°Are you locked out of your home?¡±

    ¡°Buzz off, hooker,¡± I snarl.

    She looks taken aback. ¡°I¡­ I¡¯m sorry,¡± she says, then takes a step away, but stops. She turns back to me and holds out her umbrella. ¡°Do... you look like you could use it more than me.

    I stare, breathing heavily through the rain for a moment. People like this still exist? I thought they died out, along with the clean water, fresh air and animals. I flip her off, sending her on her way, leaving me, a grizzled street dog, where I belong.

    Would I have regretted it if I had pulled the trigger? Probably. The Bansilin factory would still be running, because I wouldn¡¯t be able to take it out alone. I haven¡¯t got any other allies¡­ unless¡­ why don¡¯t I call Kaloaan? Why don¡¯t I alert the police, so it can be there problem, not mine? If I move now, I might be able to make it. They can bust open the factory, blow it sky high, stop production, pull up and arrest Zorikan, free my dad¡­would they catch him? Would they be able to catch or kill Zorikan? Would they want to? If he is as powerful as Varan said, then I could be starting a war.

    If they did manage to even catch Zorikan, they¡¯d get Rieka, Deqar and Varan too. Do I want that? They¡­ they aren¡¯t my friends. They¡¯ve never done shit for me. They¡­ left Zorikan to help me. They came to me first of all the people in the world.

    ¡°Kallix! Why are you waiting out in the rain?¡± Malyk asks, hurrying up to me and unlocking the door.

    ¡°Hey,¡± I mutter, pushing hair from my face.

    He bustles inside and I trudge after him.

    ¡°Get that hoodie off,¡± he instructs. ¡°And your shoes too. Your soaked!¡±

    I do as I¡¯m told, leaving my shirtless and barefoot on his couch. He flicks a switch, turning on a fake fire before me, omitting much needed heat as I begin to shiver. He disappears, then returns with a steaming mug and blanket. He covers me and hands me the drink.

    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Something to warm you up¡­ and a tad of happy powder mixed in. You look like you need it.¡±

    I sip gratefully. ¡°Any luck?¡±

    He shakes his head. ¡°Everybody I contacted is scared shitless of this Qiara person. Wesslin isn¡¯t the only one who¡¯s been silenced. Remember that dude who led the protest last month? They knocked on his door and shot him. That surgeon who made the public statement. Organized car crash. The model who¡¯s quote made headlines? Her own bloody bodyguard.¡±

    ¡°Her own body guard?¡± I ask, incredulously.

    He nods. ¡°Qiara apparently paid him off. This girl is loaded and deadly.¡±

    If Qiara finds out that Zorikan is going to take down the factory, I might not have to deal with him at all.

    ¡°Looks like it¡¯s just the two of us,¡± Malyk sighs.

    I shake my head, making little droplets of water sink into the blanket. ¡°I made a couple friends.¡±

    ¡°Really? Who?¡±

    I take a long sip, feeling the warmth of the drink spread through my body. I pop a pill. ¡°They call themselves the Swifters, lead by a real bastard named Zorikan. They¡¯re like a group of underground thieves, but big time. Apparently, they¡¯ve got alliances with many major companies and shit. I don¡¯t know the details so don¡¯t ask me. I know a few of them, and Zorikan¡¯s willing to help us out. He¡¯s against Bansilin as well.¡± I leave out the part about my dad.

    Malyk nods in understanding. ¡°Alright. Are we still going to scope it out?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. What I do know is that we¡¯re not in charge of this operation anymore. So, listen up. We play by his rules, we get this shit done, but first chance we get, we kill his ass.¡±

 1.13: Infiltration

    13

    ¡°Where the hell is the coward?¡± I demand to the leader of one of Zorikan¡¯s crews. He¡¯s sent three with us but didn¡¯t even turn up himself. Bastard.

    ¡°What¡¯re you askin¡¯ me for, small fry,¡± the man replies, with a heavy accent. He sports a black leather jacket and a matching eyepatch, with slicked back hair as darker than mine. ¡°I don¡¯t question the boss. Nobody questions the boss.¡± The moonlight makes his glossy hair shine.

    I grit my teeth and look for the people I know. Two three-man crews that I don¡¯t know discuss their plans and check their weapons before me. Malyk hasn¡¯t turned up yet, neither have the crew I know.

    ¡°Maybe he just hasn¡¯t showed up yet,¡± he continues. ¡°Zorikan works at his own time, but whatever he does, it always works out best for him.¡±

    ¡°Oh yeah, Slick? How does that work out for you?¡±

    ¡°Reap the benefits. Profit trickles down from the top here, unlike in this capitalist shithole society. Names Reeler, by the way.¡±

    ¡°Reeler? Did your mother name you that?¡± I scoff.

    ¡°My dad,¡± he responds, not noticing my sarcasm. ¡°And that over there, Loski and Barrlin, they¡¯re my team,¡± he nods to a tiny, sketchy looking girl, and a long faced man in an oversized coat.

    I nod. ¡°And the other crew?¡±

    A young woman, probably a year or two older than Rieka, slides over to me. She wears, light boots, oversized trackpants, a sweater tied around her waist, so it drapes down like a kilt and a vest. Her bare, skinny arms are red from the cold, and littered with scratches, bruises and bandages. Her long brown hair is done up in a messy bun, and orange construction glasses rest on her forehead. ¡°Names Akila, pleased to meet you,¡± she extends a grimy hand to me. I take it, shaking with a strong enough grip so she knows that I¡¯m no pushover.

    ¡°You the leader of those two?¡± I ask, nodding to the nearly identical men, sitting next to each other, prominent mustaches slapped onto their faces.

    She nods. ¡°Very much indeed. And hey, don¡¯t judge, they¡¯re my homies. Errel and Arral.¡±

    I sigh. ¡°Why would I judge two gay twin brothers in a relationship with each other?¡±

    She erupts with a hysterical laugh. ¡°Leave ¡®em alone alright? Any idea what year it is?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t remind me,¡± I tell her.

    ¡°Kallix! My dude!¡± Deqar hollers from across the street.

    ¡°Hey, aren¡¯t we supposed to be discreet?¡± I ask as he saunters over to me, Varan slinking behind him.

    In response, he slaps my ass, making me flinch. I shove him away. Akila bursts into laughter while Reeler looks at me with a high nose. I notice Rieka hugging the twins, and I call her name.

    She pads over to me, looking at me like she expects me to shred her to pieces with knives for words. I consider it. ¡°Where¡¯s the slimy piece of shit?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Not coming,¡± she muttered.

    ¡°What?¡± I ask, stepping closer to her. Reeler and Akila flinch.

    She looks up at me, and I¡¯m instantly hypnotized. She steps closer to me, a fresh wave of her delicious smell hits me. ¡°Zorikan is a business man,¡± she says, tracing something on my chest. ¡°It¡¯s not worth it to him, to risk his life for this. A CEO doesn¡¯t do the work his employees do.¡±

    Normally, under any other circumstances, I would¡¯ve unleashed a string of words so hurtful that they would make anybody want to curl up into a ball and die, but the way she says it, it¡¯s like she¡¯s in pain. Like as if she doesn¡¯t want it but has to do it anyway. As if she has no choice. Her jaw is tight and her hand is shaky as it glides over my bare skin. She tilts her head up to look at me, and for a second I think she¡¯s going to kiss me, when she wraps her arms around me, laying her head on my collar bone. I¡¯m frozen.

    ¡°Yeahhh, we should give them a bit of privacy,¡± Deqar says, ushering everybody away.

    ¡°Why do you work for that monster?¡± I ask, hugging her back.

    She shakes, like she¡¯s about to cry, but doesn¡¯t respond.

    ¡°Why, Rieka? Tell me. I¡­ I want to understand you.¡±

    ¡°Kallix,¡± she breaths, pulling away from me. ¡°You have to listen to me.¡±

    ¡°Anything. Go ahead,¡± I reassure her.

    She holds the back of my head, pulling me down until there¡¯s a hair¡¯s width between us. ¡°You cannot cross Zorikan.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± I ask, incredulously.

    ¡°Look, I can tell that you plan to. I know, he¡¯s a dick and a half, but you cannot try and kill him.¡±

    ¡°Why the hell not? He can¡¯t even catch me!¡±

    ¡°Shhh! He doesn¡¯t have to. He won¡¯t even kill you. He could cripple you, leave you paralyzed from the waist down. He knows you. He knows what you care about hold dear and he can take that away from you.¡±

    Paralyzed? I would¡­ have to live with my brother. In a wheelchair. Doing whatever the hell he wants me to do. ¡°And why are you tell me this?¡± I ask, looking away from her. I don¡¯t want to get lost in her eyes now. I can¡¯t afford to get hypnotized. I need to think.

    She bites her lip. ¡°You¡¯re a prick, Kallix. You¡¯re a pricky dick. Selfish, narcissistic, arrogant and an idiot.¡±

    I scoff. ¡°You think I don¡¯t know that?¡±

    ¡°But you¡¯re a good person. You¡¯re an actual, real, cold hard true person. You don¡¯t hide from who you are, you flaunt it to the world. You¡¯re not fake, you¡¯re not plastic, you do what you think is right, when you think it¡¯s right, even if it isn¡¯t. And the world needs more people like that and¡­¡±

    ¡°And?¡±

    ¡°I¡­ care about you,¡± she chokes. ¡°As in I don¡¯t want you to die. Not like I care about you as in I care about you like I¡¯m a lover, but like I care about you as in I care about the fact that your alive. I like you¡­ being alive.¡±

    My gaze is unwavering. An island, refusing to be submerged by her ocean.

    ¡°Oi! It¡¯s midnight, come on!¡± Reeler calls.

    The two of us amble to the ground, crowded around the slick haired man.

    ¡°Ok, Zorikan just buzzed in, informed me that I¡¯m in charge, so I call the shots alright? I know we¡¯ve got three crews, but we¡¯re splitting into two teams. One will cause as much mayhem as possible, get the cops over here while the other will infiltrate and find a secure location to wait. Once the up team gets the cops in the know, mayhem will break out. These bansilin guys well have all their men running around, ready to fight off the police. The down group will get out of where they¡¯re hiding, get into the control room and spam every button that they goddamn can. Gotta overheat the system, ok? Mess it up as much as you can. Piss on the controller maybe, I dunno.¡±

    It¡¯s not a terrible plan. But I didn¡¯t want the cops coming here in in the first place. Luckily, I doubt Kaloaan will show up. He might try, but by the time he goes all the way from West Side to East Side, everything will probably be over.

    ¡°Ok, ok, lemme see. I gotta break y¡¯all up into two groups. Uppers are with Akila, downers are with me alright? Ok good. With me, I want Kallix, Rieka, Malyk, Barrlin and Varan. Uppers are Akila, Arral, Errel, Deqar and Loski, alright?¡±

    ¡°Ah shit,¡± Deqar curses. ¡°Am I that bad a runner?¡± he asks me.

    I brush him off and move to Malyk.

    ¡°Hey, Kal. Look what they gave me,¡± he says, holding up a large assault rifle.

    ¡°You sure you can handle this thing?¡±

    ¡°I dunno. My dad taught me how to shoot when I was young,¡± he says, holding it up to aim. ¡°Never shot something this high caliber before.¡±

    ¡°All I got was this,¡± I tell him, holding up the handgun.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    ¡°No matter how small the gun, it¡¯ll still kill somebody.¡±

    ¡°Yeah. That¡¯s why I don¡¯t really want it.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s move out!¡± Reeler calls. ¡°Kallix, lead the way.¡±

    I nod and break into a steady jog. Still a couple blocks away, no need to get excited. Reeler maintains my pace, keeping solidly at my side, an assault rifle like Malyk¡¯s in his hand. Rieka and Malyk run side by side behind us, with Barrlin and Varan bringing up the rear. We close in on the warehouse.

    Through the door and over the glass walls, I swipe Jereva¡¯s keycard, letting us inside. They gawk at the size of the shelves. ¡°K and H warehouse,¡± Reeler marvels. ¡°What a success this must¡¯ve been.¡±

    ¡°We should do a supply run here sometime,¡± Rieka suggests.

    ¡°Dude,¡± Malyk breaths in my ear. ¡°Think about this. If we succeed, this warehouse will just be out in the open. We should invest some money in a shipping company, transport it back to West Side and sell it online,¡± he says with a huge grin.

    I raise an eyebrow. ¡°Do you know who you¡¯re talking to?¡±

    ¡°Oh. Right,¡± he laughs, falling back beside Rieka.

    We reach the ladder I¡¯d set up earlier and scamper up to the top of the shelf. The room fills with the sound of guns clanking against rungs. By the time we reach the stop where the wooden plank had once been, Reeler overtakes me, and shoots a grappling line. The then cuts it and ties it to a run of the ladder we¡¯d climbed. I¡¯m the first, quickly shimmying up like a sloth, high on flakka. The rope sags a tad with my weight, but the only way I can fall is if I¡¯m heavy enough for my weight to lift the entire ladder off the ground and over the shelf. By the time I¡¯ve crossed the metal support beam, and reached the control panel, the last of us, Barrlin, has just gotten onto it.

    Reeler peers over my shoulder as I lift the plastic case off and set it aside, then press the green button. ¡°How the hell did you find this place?¡± he asks in wonder.

    ¡°I used to be a detective,¡± I explain, ¡°but I retired because the pay wasn¡¯t good enough for me.¡±

    He nods and starts down the stairs. One by one, we trickle after him, until we reach the grand opening. ¡°Mother of god. This shit is huge,¡± Reeler gasps, flattening himself onto his belly. The rest of us follow suit.

    ¡°What¡¯s the plan boss?¡± Barrlin asks, edging forward.

    ¡°I¡¯m thinkin¡¯, I¡¯m thinkin¡¯,¡± Reeler responds.

    He reminds me of an old movie bad boy type.

    ¡°Hey, we got company,¡± Rieka mentions, nodding at two men walking along the cat walk adjacent to ours. If they turn right, they¡¯ll run strait into us.

    ¡°I can take ¡®em out. I¡¯ve got a shot,¡± Varan mutters, squinting into his gun like a military sniper.

    ¡°Don¡¯t shoot. I repeat, do not shoot. We move, stay low,¡± Reeler decides, scrambling to the left, nearly on all fours. ¡°How the hell did Zorikan expect us to find the blowup point with no inside man?¡± he asks to no one in particular.

    ¡°Hostage,¡± Rieka offers from behind us. ¡°We need a hostage. Force it out of him.¡±

    ¡°Nice thinking,¡± he commends as we slink.

    Then the catwalk ends, and there¡¯s only a door before us. ¡°What? This shit doesn¡¯t connect to the¡­ screw it. We go in,¡± Reeler says. The men on the same level as us are just about to turn our way.

    Reeler turns to doorknob, and it opens. Reeler goes in first, and before I¡¯m even inside, I hear bullets. Instinctively I dive behind the nearest cover I can find, which is a metal counter, crouch down and pull out my handgun.

    The shots stop before Rieka gets in. Reeler blows away the smoke coming from his barrel with a smirk.

    As Malyk, Varan and Barrlin get in, I stand to see three dead men in red and black uniforms, slumped in their chairs. Several monitors that show security camera feeds line the wall, mounted on top of each other. One of them has gone black with a bullet hole in it. A fourth man lies slumped in a bloody heap against the wall, beneath a huge red level labeled, ALARM. Shit. That was close.

    ¡°Varan bar the door, Malyk and Rieka check the security feeds for anything useful. Kallix, come with me, we¡¯re scouting ahead.¡±

    I nod, glancing at Malyk who gives a half-hearted smile. His eyes linger on the dead bodies in front of him. I look at Rieka too. I want to see how she¡¯s holding up, but she¡¯s already hammering away at the keyboard.

    Reeler¡¯s peering through a glass door, from which a spiral staircase begins. He opens it tentatively, then jerks his head at me to follow. Together, we creep down the stairs and into a hallway. Four doors line each side of the hall, the first of which is labeled as ¡°EXPERIMENT ROOM 1 A¡±.

    ¡°We keep moving,¡± Reeler orders, advancing through the hall, not giving the doors second glances.

    We move down the hall where two forks branch off from it. OFFICE BLOCK 1 A, OFFICE BLOCK 1 B. Not where we¡¯re headed. We traverse down the hall until it expands into a large, pristinely white room, with another, smaller room situated within it.

    I glance around the corner, and see a hall leading out of in both directions.

    ¡°If somebody walks in, we¡¯re completely exposed,¡± I tell him.

    ¡°Yeah, so we oughta get into that room right ¡®ere,¡± he points to the central room.

    I nod.

    Reeler pulls out his walkie. ¡°Oi. Rieka, you still got the footage?¡±

    ¡°Yep. What¡¯d¡¯you need?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s like a room with another room inside it. Not really sure. Past the first level of experiment rooms.¡±

    ¡°Alright hold on.¡±

    Through the crackling walkie talkie, I hear several buttons clacking and the sound of Varan talking with Malyk.

    ¡°Ok yeah I¡¯ve got a visual. Stick your hand out the hall.¡±

    Reeler complies.

    ¡°Yeah I see you. You need that inner room?¡±

    ¡°Right.¡±

    ¡°Ok, ok¡­ yeah I¡¯ve got it. There¡¯re two guys in there. I can¡¯t tell if they¡¯re arms, but there¡¯s some sort of machine. Lots of tubes and pipes and stuff.¡±

    ¡°Blowup spot?¡±

    ¡°No, don¡¯t think so. It¡¯s too high up and not guarded well enough. If they have guns, they aren¡¯t very big.¡±

    ¡°Ok send the others down here, you stay up and man the screens.¡±

    ¡°No need sir. They¡¯ve got there own monitors in that room.¡±

    ¡°Security footage?¡±

    ¡°No don¡¯t think so, but I don¡¯t doubt that Varan can tap into the feed.¡±

    ¡°If Varan was the tech guy, why were you handling the cams?¡± Reeler asks.

    ¡°Cuz you told me to,¡± Rieka laughs. Her damn cute giggle.

    ¡°Dumbass, get down here.¡±

    ¡°Right. Over and out.¡±

    Reeler clips the walkie to his belt and we move back down the hall. In a few moments, the rest of the group arrive. Varan and Barrlin carry lumps of clothes. ¡°Got their uniforms sir, might be useful to get in close.¡±

    ¡°Good thinking. Now, we got to storm this shit, black ops style,¡± Reeler says with a grin. I pull out my gun but keep my finger off the trigger. Not killing anybody today.

    ¡°Alright. Three¡­two¡­one¡­GO!¡± Reeler shouts and we tear towards the room.

    I¡¯m not running my fastest. Don¡¯t want to be the first to get shot down.

    Rieka¡¯s the first to notice that there¡¯s no door, and swing to the right, followed by Malyk and Barrlin. Reeler, Varan and I go left, only to find that there¡¯s no door on this wall either. We meet at the far wall, and Reeler body checks the door without breaking a stride. Only it doesn¡¯t budge.

    ¡°Who¡¯s there?¡± one of the men inside calls.

    ¡°Um¡­ your manager! I¡¯m¡­ here to check on your progress.¡±

    ¡°I am the manager, are you from Natural Extracts?¡±

    ¡°Um¡­¡± Reeler stutters. ¡°Ah, screw this.¡± He fires a round a the door, destroying the lock and kicking it open, then rattling out into the room. One of the men manages to get a shot out but misses all of us before he slumps to the ground. We hustle inside.

    ¡°Shit Reeler I think you shot one of these,¡± Varan comments, staring at the hissing mass of pipes and tubes.

    Reeler isn¡¯t listening. ¡°Akila. Akila do you copy? We¡¯ve hunkered down are you ready?¡±

    ¡°Affirmative. We¡¯re nearly ready. These guys are going to shit themselves when they see this!¡±

    ¡°Got it. Buzz in when we should move. Over and out.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s the plan, boss?¡± Barrlin asks.

    ¡°Varan and Rieka, I want visuals of every hall leading here. Find the blowup point.¡±

    ¡°Should we barricade the door?¡± Barrlin asks.

    ¡°How are we gonna get out, dipshit?¡±

    The earpiece on one of the shot workers buzzes. ¡°Hey Hansfar, we got shots coming from your room?¡±

    Reeler snatches it up. ¡°Weapons malfunction. Sorry ¡®bout that, won¡¯t happen again.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I hope so. And could you check on the guys up at the security room? Top level, please. They¡¯re not responding.¡±

    ¡°Sure, will do,¡± he nods, tossing the earpiece away.¡±

    ¡°I got visuals,¡± Varan calls.

    ¡°Alright, everybody put these uniforms on,¡± Reeler instructs.

    I pull the black clothes with red highlights on. They look like a mix between a uniform and a jumpsuit. We coagulate behind the mess of pipes, facing the monitors.

    ¡°Holy shit, holy shit,¡± Varan panics. ¡°We¡¯ve got people coming!¡±

    ¡°Relax, act natural,¡± Reeler instructs.

    Malyk scoots closer up to me. ¡°We¡¯re gonna die here, right?¡±

    I sigh. ¡°Probably. I dunno, I¡¯ve got terrible luck, I¡¯ll probably make it out alive.¡±

    I¡¯m happy that my words crack a smile onto his face.

    Then the ground shudders. The rolling chairs slide across the room, Varan is nearly thrown off his feet.

    ¡°Did you feel that?¡± Akila asks through Reeler¡¯s talkie.

    ¡°Yeah. The hell did you use? Are we good to go?¡±

    ¡°Yep. Move out, we¡¯re heading out now. I¡¯ll try and draw them away as far as possible, buy you guys some time.¡±

    ¡°Alright. Over and out.¡±

    Through the monitors I see the two men heading towards us stagger and exchange a few words, then continue to us.

    ¡°Sorry mates,¡± Reeler mumbles, shoving a new clip into his assault rifle and mowing them down through the door.

    ¡°I found it! I freaking found it!¡± Varan exclaims. He points to a huge molten mass, swirling around in what I think is a centrifuge. ¡°We mess this up, they¡¯re done.¡±

    ¡°Alright, you got the way?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, just down any of the three halls behind us, get into the elevator towards elevators with the blue doors. 8<sup>th</sup> floor under. Get down and you can meet up via the catwalks.¡±

    ¡°Malyk, Rieka, you guys are going left. Kallix and Varan, right. Barrlin and I will go straight. Move out!¡±

    Like a military unit we pour out of the room and split. A school of fish diverting around a coral.

    ¡°Holyshit, holyshit, holyshit,¡± Varan mutters as we run. Sweat drips down his forehead.

    ¡°Don¡¯t panic now, alright,¡± I tell him.

    Six men cut across the hall ahead of us. He yanks the barrel of his gun up, ready to open fire.

    ¡°Chill dude! Don¡¯t freaking panic.¡±

    Varan¡¯s breaths are coming quickly. ¡°I¡¯m not panicking. I swear I¡¯m not panicking.¡±

    ¡°This is why Rieka chose you to talk to Mr. Shei you know,¡± I tell him as we resume our leisurely jog.

    ¡°Shut up. That guy was boring as hell,¡± Varan mutters as we walked. ¡°I can¡¯t believe you left me with him! I¡¯d rather be talking to my mother in law!¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re married?¡± I ask incredulously.

    ¡°No, but if I was, I don¡¯t think I¡¯d like talking to my mother in law. You ever¡­¡±

    ¡°Hey!¡± calls a man in uniform similar to ours, except with a silver lined cap. ¡°All units up top, we got an attack.¡±

    ¡°Do I shoot him,¡± Varan asks, breathing like a dog on a hot day.

    ¡°On our way, sir!¡± I call.

    He nods and leaves.

    ¡°Oh shit, we¡¯re gonna die,¡± Varan sighs.

    ¡°Compose yourself, you nervous wreck. Why¡¯d you sign up for this? Don¡¯t you and Deqar do bansilin anyway?¡±

    ¡°Yeah of course! Bansilin is awesome, but nothing compared to the street cred of pulling this off.¡±

    ¡°Varan, nobody¡¯s going to believe you were even here if you act like this.¡±

    ¡°No, you¡¯d be surprised how reputable I am on the streets.¡±

    ¡°What? You? Reputable? Those two words don¡¯t coincide.¡±

    ¡°Hey look it¡¯s the elevator!¡± I declare.

    Varan presses the button and it opens instantly, allowing us inside. Half a minute of awkward silence passes, when we stop.

    An automated voice speaks up. ¡°Swipe ID card.¡±

    ¡°Shit.¡±

    ¡°Swipe ID card.¡±

    We search our pockets.

    ¡°Swipe ID card.¡±

    ¡°Now what the hell do we do?¡± I demand.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know! You think I saw this on the security cams?¡±

    ¡°Well what do we do?¡±

    ¡°Just shoot it!¡±

    ¡°How is that supposed to help?¡±

    ¡°Try!¡±

    I let out an exasperated breath, aim the handgun and fire. The thing hisses, and the doors slide open. Before us, is a towering, very armed guard with his gun pointed directly at us.

    Bullets fly.

 1.14: Zombie

    14

    I fling myself out of the way, tumbling to the banister and swing myself over, ready to make the thirty-foot jump down, when the shots stop. I pull myself back up and over, hoping that nobody below saw me. The guard is on his back, blood oozing from his chest and trickling out his mouth. He¡¯s still alive.

    At the back of the elevator, with blood splattered on the wall¡­. is Varan.

    ¡°Shit!¡± I hiss, rushing to his side. ¡°Where¡¯d he shoot you?¡±

    Varan coughs, and blood sprays onto my hands. He grips his side in pain, like he¡¯s experiencing the ultimate stomachache. ¡°Am screwed,¡± he mutters.

    ¡°No you¡¯re not. Not yet,¡± I reassure him, slipping his arm over my shoulder. ¡°This is gonna hurt.¡±

    The guard¡¯s dying body stops the elevator door from closing as I heave the Swifter up and practically drag him.

    ¡°Oh shit¡­ shit¡­ stop¡­ it hurts stop¡­¡± he breathes.

    I pull him to the wider section of the catwalk behind a couple stacked metal crates or something, propping him up against the wall.

    ¡°Um¡­ got to stop the bleeding, right?¡± I ask.

    His head lolls deliriously.

    You dumb piece of shit. This one is your fault. And freaking Varan of all people!

    I can¡¯t take off my uniform, if I do I¡¯ll be shot on the spot, not that it had saved Varan. That leaves by jeans or¡­ Rieka¡¯s hoodie. My jeans won¡¯t do much to stop the flow. Don¡¯t be an ass.

    I pull of the uniform coat and the hoodie, then tie it around the lanky redhead, who¡¯s going into shock.

    ¡°Varan. Varan look at me,¡± I crouch in front of him, cupping his face.

    His eyes struggle to focus. ¡°I¡¯m coming back for you. Wait here. Don¡¯t do anything dumb. If anybody comes you say you were shot by an intruder, if they don¡¯t believe you then put some holes in them alright? I¡¯m going to regroup with the others.¡±

    Varan nods. ¡°Yeah. Will do.¡±

    ¡°Ok good.¡± I stand and start along the catwalk.

    ¡°Kallix!¡± Varan calls.

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°Come back for me, man. Please.¡±

    ¡°I will. Just hold on for a bit. And don¡¯t you dare die.¡±

    I break into a low run, scuttling along the catwalk. I make my way to a ladder against the wall and look at the men below me. Twenty to thirty. Might be able to pick off a lot of them from up here once the others get to me. Wait, how am I the first one here? That can¡¯t make any sense, we must¡¯ve taken the longest. This must be the only rendezvous sight¡­ logically. Maybe there¡¯s another ladder on the other side where they¡¯re waiting for me. More probable.

    I¡¯m back on the catwalk, hustling directly over the huge molten centrifuge thing. Please no guard guy come now.

    Everybody beneath me is too stressed out to notice me, and I reach the other side unharmed. No one is bloody there. Shit. They must¡¯ve been caught up somewhere, I make for the elevator. Middle one first, if Malyk and Rieka had run into trouble, or not found anybody here like me, they would¡¯ve gone to Reeler first.

    I enter the elevator, anxiously check my gun as it goes up and the doors open. As soon as I¡¯m out, a body crumples backwards at me. A guard. ¡°Bloody hell,¡± I exclaim, diving behind a lab bench. Gunshots. Shoot, stop, reload. Shoot, stop, reload. It¡¯s a shoot off. Two man.

    I peep my head up and see the back of a guard firing at somebody ducking down behind another lab bench. A couple dead men in lab coats catch my eye.

    I hold up my gun. I¡¯ve got a perfect shot at the back of the guard¡¯s head. Don¡¯t need to kill anybody. You¡¯ve already gotten someone killed, isn¡¯t that good enough? The guard runs out and ducks down, meaning whoever is on the other side is about to shoot. I splay myself on the ground and crawl.

    A full round of an automatic assault rifle ricochets off metal, before the guard stands back up. I vault over a counter, right to him, and slam my gun into the back of his head. As he slumps by my feet, I call, ¡°He¡¯s down!¡±

    ¡°Aw shit, Kallix!¡±

    Reeler. The bastard is alive after all.

    I slide over to him. ¡°You good, chief?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Yeah. Ish. Bastard shot me in the arm. Bad graze,¡± he nods to the blood tear in his leather jacket.

    ¡°Barrlin?¡±

    He shakes his head. ¡°Dead. Son of a bitch got shot right through the head. Where¡¯s Varan?¡±

    ¡°Still alive, but not for long. We¡¯ve got to move quickly.¡±

    Reeler nods, hauling himself up.

    We trot like soldiers back to the elevator and slip inside. ¡°Malyk and Rieka?¡±

    ¡°I dunno. Going to check on them next.¡±

    Reeler shakes his head. ¡°Rieka¡¯s fine. That girl¡¯s a cockroach I tell you, can¡¯t get killed. Dunno about your friend through. Get back to Varan and get him out.¡±

    ¡°But-¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s an order, Kallix. I¡¯ll see what I can do about this centrifuge thing. Alright? Malyk and Rieka should have my back.¡±

    Never before have I taken orders. Never before I have listened to a man of authority. I¡¯m not sure why right now it¡¯s different.

    The elevators open and we part ways. Hunched over, running as fast as I can, I cross the catwalk. Like a cockroach, I¡¯m unseen.

    I see the tops of his ginger hair pocking up from behind the crates. Thank the world. ¡°Varan,¡± I call. ¡°C¡¯mon, we¡¯re getting out of here.¡±

    Varan doesn¡¯t respond.

    I crouch down in front of him. ¡°Hey,¡± slap his face. ¡°Hey wake up!¡±

    His skin is cold to the touch.

    ¡°Wake up you bitch! Wake up!¡± I shout.

    Varan is dead. The bastard is dead. He died on me. He lied. I didn¡¯t make it back in time. I lied. No¡­ I came back for him. It¡¯s not my fault¡­ his blood is literally still on my hands, smeared onto the handle of my gun.

    I tip over next to him. ¡°Shit,¡± I sigh, blinking and squinting. I slam my fist into my shoulder. I can¡¯t reach my pocket with the jumpsuit on. The tension throbs. Varan¡¯s cold fingers brush against mine.

    I sniff and stand. Living people still need me. People I can avoid getting killed like him. I until Rieka¡¯s sweater, saturated with wet, dripping blood, and tie it around my waist.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    Back across the catwalk I go. A cockroach, scuttling back and forth in your ceiling. When I reach the other side, I see Reeler, crouched behind some sort of cart, gun in hand. He peers over, not noticing me.

    Get down and help him you piece of shit! Damn piece of shit he¡¯s going to die alone! Malyk and Rieka first. Need to get them out of whatever shit¡¯s happening to them. I¡¯d rather Reeler die than them. These are people that I actually care about, some of the few. I¡¯m not going to let them go. Not because of me. Not because of something I found and led them into.

    I charge to the third elevator and hammer the button. I hear it moving, thrumming against the wall until the doors slide open.

    My gun falls from my hands.

    Malyk¡¯s pressed Rieka to the wall, her legs wrapped around his waist, her hands in his hair, hers on her ass and her lips against his.

    They notice me and separate as fast as possible. I¡¯m too stunned to move.

    Both of them look like they¡¯re searching for words.

    My friends. My literal only friends. The ones I didn¡¯t destroy. The ones I didn¡¯t poison against me. The ones that stuck to me after I left them to die. This is ¡­ what they do.

    Rieka then notices the blood on the hoodie around my waist. ¡°Oh my god, Kallix are you hurt?¡± she asks, concern in her eyes. Her beautiful, transfixing, hypnotic eyes. She bends over to check, but my palm makes contact with her face faster than I can tell. She cries out in alarm and stumbles against the wall. Malyk moves to her, but my fist reaches his cheek before he can.

    ¡°You told me you were a queer!¡± I scream rocketing my fist into his stomach.

    ¡°I¡¯m bi,¡± he gasps as I kick his knee, making him buckle.

    ¡°Kallix,¡± Rieka says, ¡°Let me expl-¡± My hand is against her throat. She¡¯s slammed against the wall like she had been a moment earlier. My grip tightens, and her face flushes red. It¡¯s the same like when I kissed her. When I kissed her damn slutty lips.

    Her leg flies up, around my arm, twisting me so my shoulder nearly pops from its socket, and my head knocks against the elevator wall with momentum.

    Before Malyk, her or I can do anything else, gunshots cut us off. From my bleary vision, I see Reeler tearing towards us gun firing behind him. A shot hits his shoulder, making him stumble, then another one behind his knee, crippling him. The final rips through his chest, and strait into the elevator, just past Malyk.

    The last I see of him is his still breathing body being flung aside as a guard charges the last few feet towards us. The scene repeats. A guard outside. A tall man with a gun inside. My tossing myself out of the way, just in time.

    Except this time, the results are different. As the elevator door closes, and begins its ascent, the guard, now gun-less, slams Malyk to the wall. Malyk¡¯s gun, busted from the bullet¡¯s it took, clatter to the ground, useless. Rieka, who was gun-less, recovers, and launches herself at the guard, wrapping him in a headlock. He spins, slamming her into the wall, then grabbing the back of her head with both his hands and flipping her over him onto the ground.

    My gun never entered the elevator, which I now regret as the guard throws a cannonball powered punch at me. I duck, letting it hit the metal wall, and give him all I have to his stomach, but it¡¯s like punching a wooden post. His next punch hits my chest, and my lungs practically flatten as I crumple to the ground. His third punch would¡¯ve killed me if Malyk hadn¡¯t body checked him into the wall.

    The elevator doors open. I run. Rieka runs. Malyk runs.

    By the time we reach the end of the blue hall, two guards stand in our way. Luckily, we reach them before they can unholster their weapons, turning them into a stone wall instead.

    Rieka dives between them, landing with a graceful roll. I leap, but a thick, strong arm grabs me, making my legs swing forwards with momentum. Malyk crashes into the guard, thereby loosening the guard¡¯s grip on me, and allowing my to scramble free.

    I veer left ducking as gunshots erupt behind me and tear up the stairs towards the exit. I pass the empty experiment hall, then blitz through the security camera room, flying over the tables and smashing monitors and scrambling into the final length towards the exit.

    I skid to a halt as I see Rieka grappling with a disarmed guard before me. Malyk crashes around behind me.

    No stopping. Never stop swimming. When sharks stop swimming, they die.

    I rocket forwards, adrenaline forcing my body onto overdrive, and launch myself over the grappling pair, landing with a clumsy roll and flying up the stairs.

    I reach the metal beam, walking so fast I¡¯m sure I¡¯m about to slip, then fling myself onto the shelf. I tip the ladder down, barely stopping to secure it, and grab the rungs. I cover my hands with my sleeves, hold the sides of the ladder and let myself slide down.

    The landing nearly cracks my ankles, but I can¡¯t stop. I run, the last hundred meter sprint, the last distance before the wolf catches his prey, the last stretch before the cockroach escapes under the couch.

    Gunshots. A scream. Something tipping over and crashing to the ground. I smash through the worker lounge, toss myself over the glass cubicle teller wall, and out the door. I run. I run like a cheetah. I run like a deer. I run faster than I would¡¯ve through possible, until I tumble onto the roadside, chest heaving and breathing faster than a small dog.

    More gunshots. I haul myself to my feet. I don¡¯t look back. I limp forwards, down the street. Over my shoulder I see Rieka blast out of the doors and tear down the street, right towards me.

    Before I can turn, she tackles me to the grass between two buildings and presses a finger to my lip.

    I¡¯m fuming as she holds herself on top of me, pressed against me. Her delicious smelling hair falling into my face. Her small, yet perfectly shaped breasts pressing against my chest. Her right thigh, soft and defined, against my penis.

    I hear the heavy boots of the guards run past us down the street. As soon as they¡¯re gone, I throw her off me.

    ¡°You bitch!¡± I holler.

    ¡°Shh! They¡¯ll hear us!¡±

    ¡°To hell with you! Damn asshole! Go find yourself a new sugardaddy!¡±

    ¡°Kallix I swear I can explain.¡±

    I limp off, but she follows me. I¡¯m about to turn and try and tell her off again when somebody tumbles into my path.

    Deqar. ¡°You¡¯re alive!¡± he exclaims, hugging me and Rieka together. ¡°Holy shit, man what the hell happened? We thought they killed you guys.¡±

    I rip the hoodie from around my waist and shove it into his hands. A soft, hill of dazzlingly green grass stands before us, as I plow past him.

    ¡°Wha¡­ who¡¯s blood is this?¡±

    ¡°Varan,¡± I mutter over my shoulder.

    Deqar¡¯s mouth goes slack.

    Rieka runs up to me and grabs my wrist. ¡°Kallix, I¡¯m sorry. I swear I can-¡±

    ¡°What is it with you?¡± I ask, swinging around. ¡°You¡¯re such a¡­ slutty piece of shit! You seduced me up on the sky scraper to try and get my to join Zorikan-¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t even know who you were!¡± she protests.

    ¡°Bullshit! You¡¯re his little pet! And then I nearly forgive you, because of your damn puppy eyes! Freaking go be an actor somewhere else ok! Not with my life! Don¡¯t screw around with my life! Malyk was my friend!¡± I scream.

    Rieka is crying now. Her tears look so real. They¡¯re fake. I know they¡¯re fake. I so desperately want to break her nose yet comfort her at the same time. ¡°Kallix, please,¡± she sobs.

    ¡°Guys,¡± Deqar says, wiping his nose. His dark eyeliner dips down his sun tarnished cheeks. ¡°Zorikan will be expecting us.¡±

    ¡°You¡­ you¡¯re going back to him?¡± I ask, incredulously.

    Deqar shakes his head, handing me back the blood-soaked hoodie. ¡°No. Not after this.¡±

    ¡°I bet you will,¡± I tell Rieka. ¡°Bloody shit!¡±

    ¡°Kallix, you don¡¯t understand. I have to.¡±

    ¡°No! No, you don¡¯t. Now just buzz off and go rub your vagina in somebody else¡¯s face.¡±

    ~

    I pop the fourth pill in an hour. I can feel the overdose on its way. I don¡¯t give a damn. Screw it, worst case scenario I end up in a hospital and bust out the next day. Kaloaan pays them off.

    I¡¯m dreary as I limp down the road. I stuff the stolen uniform down a gutter, don¡¯t want that thing associated with me when the cops find bodies. If they find bodies. That left me shirtless on a starkly cold night. A few, stinging snowflakes burn against my bare skin. I don¡¯t want to do it, but I have to. It makes me gag as I put on the blood caked hoodie. It smells like fish and iron, and scratches against my skin, but shields me from the wind¡¯s bite.

    I stumble through the open door, and up the stairs. I knew that eventually I¡¯d find myself back here, I just didn¡¯t think it would be so soon. I rap my rad knuckles against the door.

    It opens, and I find the warm smile of Kezlin before me. Her smile disappears in an instant as she sees the raggedy, haggard sac of bones before her, held together by jizz and blood.

    ¡°Hi,¡± I smile.

    ¡°Kallix,¡± she hisses. ¡°What the hell are you wearing? Is that blood?¡±

    I sniff. Whether it¡¯s from the cold or my bitch ass emotions, I¡¯m unsure. ¡°Can I¡­ stay with you for a bit. I¡¯m having a bit of a rough time and I-¡±

    She steps outside and shuts the door behind her. ¡°Kallix I¡¯m sorry but you have to leave.¡±

    ¡°What? Why? Kezlin I-¡±

    ¡°No, Kallix. I have a boyfriend. He¡¯s inside sleeping right now. You didn¡¯t think that you and me were a¡­¡±

    ¡°Oh. No, of course not.¡±

    ¡°Sorryyyyyy. No hard feelings though, right?¡±

    I blink. ¡°Yeah. Totally.¡±

    ¡°Thanks!¡± she says, cheerfully, slipping back inside and shutting the door.

    The brief flash of warmth hits me, making my heart tingle.

    Like a zombie, I limp on, down the stairs and out onto the now blizzarding streets. Zombies don¡¯t feel anything. Zombies can¡¯t get hurt.

    Another pill. A tiny bit of my pain gone. No tension. Only numbness. Another pill, another piece gone. This is better. This is easier. One more. Bastard. Too many... might overdose. Who cares? Who bloody cares of Kallix Rane, the trash raccoon cockroach, street dog overdoses and dies on the streets? Nobody. Obviously. Because you¡¯ve chased them away, or they¡¯ve chased you. It¡¯s an endless cycle. It¡¯s not difficult. It¡¯s why you¡¯re so freaking lonely. I¡¯m not lonely. I¡¯m alone. There¡¯s a difference. A lone wolf is always stronger with a pack, but it survives on its own. That¡¯s what I do. I survive. I survive¡­ but there¡¯s no point¡­ if I come out a zombie. Another pill. Another step closer. Mindlessness is better than anxious, gut-wrenching self-loathing, isn¡¯t it? The goldfish is happier than its narcissistic owner, is it not? Another pill won''t harm now, right? After you¡¯ve crossed the limit, you can¡¯t get any worse, right? Pumping a dead body with cocaine won¡¯t change anything. What about a zombie? How would a zombie take it? This is how. By curling up on the side of the road next to a trash can and letting the snow overflow him. Letting the cold engulf him.

    This is me. I¡¯m all that¡¯s left of what I once was.

    The skin of a wolf.

    The shell of a cockroach.

    A zombie is all that remains.

 1.15: Well this is Pleasant

    15

    The train jolts and my forehead knocks against the glass with a sickening thud. The lady in the seat next to me casts me a worried glance, but my gaze remains, forlornly strung into the watery horizon.

    The blurry scene of me, snot nosed and with a headache that wrapped around everything above my shoulders like a snake coiling further and further around me, stumbled to the child. Little shit must¡¯ve been not more than seven. I watch myself through my memories, unthinkingly yanking the small bundle of cash in his hands and barking at the woman charging towards me. It¡¯s a less than pleasant change of scene from the gory picture that¡¯s been soldered into the back of my eyes.

    The sight of the heaps of plastic in the sea before me flickers emotion in me, but it¡¯s sparking a lighter beneath a heap of stacked wet blankets. Blood from my lip, which¡¯s got my left canine buried deep in it, oozes out and trickles down my chin. The woman moves across the aisle. Anywhere is better than next to me.

    Huh, maybe I just look like a vampire. Better than a zombie at least.

    The train hisses to a halt, and the doors slide open with sharp clicks. I jolt to my feet, nose on my sleeve and lurch out the doors. The wet smog of West Side makes my taste buds curl, and my vision is hampered with the combination of my sunglasses and the heavy, droopy cover of clouds above me. A shiver races down my spine, and the flaky dried blood scratches across my nipple. I shamble on.

    The way to the police station is like a maze on the back of a cereal box that I¡¯ve drawn through a thousand times. Never is it a joyful ending. I prefer to be within the maze than at the end of it.

    ¡°Holy shit,¡± gasps an officer as I push through the front door.

    ¡°Kaloaan,¡± I rasp. Sandpaper slid across concrete. A chain-smoker would have a softer voice than me.

    ¡°Uhhh, you need authorization to be here, kid,¡± the officer says setting down his coffee.

    I groan and press my thumb into my temple. ¡°I¡¯m his freaking brother, and I need to see him. Now!¡±

    ¡°Sorry kid, chiefs not here right now.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± asks somebody. ¡°The hell happened to you?¡±

    Firidah looks me over like something she¡¯d find growing in her drainage pipes.

    ¡°Where¡¯s Kaloaan?¡± I demand. ¡°I need to speak with him.¡±

    ¡°Hey, bud he¡¯s not around. He¡¯s gone on the other side of the city, and he¡¯s on a case. Confidential. I can¡¯t call him.¡±

    I shake my head, as I lose balance and lurch into a desk, spilling the officers coffee.

    ¡°What the hell!¡± he cries, snatching away his laptop.

    I sniff. ¡°Send him a message. Tell him that I¡¯m here and it¡¯s urgent.¡±

    ¡°Alright, alright,¡± Firidah reassures, pulling out her phone. For once in her life, there isn¡¯t arrogance armored with polarized sunglasses, but what seems like genuine concern. ¡°Ok I¡¯ve sent it,¡± she says, pocketing her phone. ¡°But I can¡¯t assure you he¡¯ll be here soon. Might be over a week.¡±

    ¡°A week?¡± I exclaim. ¡°Shit. Shit.¡±

    ¡°What is it?¡± she asks. ¡°You discovered something?¡±

    I look at her suspiciously, then nod once.

    She glances around the room. ¡°Come with me,¡± she grabs my wrist and leads me to the interrogations room I¡¯ve already visited.

    I sit down across from her. Grell is a hulking behemoth in the shadows behind her.

    ¡°What are you wearing?¡± she asks, leaning forwards, ¡°Is that blood?¡±

    I nod again, before erupting in a massive coughing fit.

    ¡°You¡¯re sick. Really sick,¡± she comments. ¡°I¡¯ve got to get you something,¡± she stands.

    ¡°No,¡± I hiss, lunging across the table and grabbing her by the shoulder.

    ¡°Ok, ok. Calm down,¡± she tells me, sitting.

    I look over at Grell. ¡°Get him out of here,¡± I order.

    ¡°It¡¯s alright, you can trust him,¡± she reassures.

    My eyes glint. ¡°No. He leaves.¡±

    Her mouth forms a thin line. ¡°Grell, fetch him a trauma blanket, and knock on your way back.¡±

    Grell huffs and slips out the room with surprising silence.

    My eyes are like gnats, flitting around the room. I catch a tiny dot in the corner of the room. ¡°Cover the security camera,¡± I order.

    ¡°It¡¯s alright,¡± she reassures, ¡°It doesn¡¯t record audio, only video.¡±

    I¡¯m about to protest when she pulls a sleek, rectangular device from her pocket and lays it on the table. She presses a button.

    ¡°It¡¯s alright, it doesn¡¯t record audio, only video,¡± the device repeats.

    ¡°We record all conversations with these,¡± she explains. She sets it on the table and holds down a button until the small white light in the corner flickers off.

    I wheeze as she hands me a crumpled pile of tissues, which I gratefully blow into. Coughs and retches follow, but Firidah wait patiently, hands folded in front of her, her back arched with perfect posture. Her eyes dart around, analyzing every inch of me. They linger on the small spots of maroon that aren¡¯t covered in dry, crusty, brown blood. If she flinches, it¡¯s so subtle I don¡¯t notice.

    ¡°I¡­ stumbled across something.¡±

    She nods encouragingly.

    ¡°Not sure if you¡¯ve heard, but the Bansilin overlord is some dude called¡­¡± a string of coughs rip themselves free from my wretched insides.

    ¡°Ravven. We know. We¡¯re doing all the investigations we can to find out who he is.¡±

    ¡°Yeah. Him, well I did some investigations of my own. Found the HQ factory or whatever it is.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± she asks, jolting with shock. ¡°How¡­¡± she stutters.

    I shrug. ¡°Police force is pretty useless.¡±

    I hear a door click shut outside the investigation room. Grell must be returning.

    ¡°Where is it?¡± she asks, leaning closer and lowering her voice. ¡°Can you get an exact location?¡± She pulls a notepad from her breast-pocket and uncaps a pen.

    ¡°Yeah. It¡¯s in East Side.¡±

    ¡°East Side, no wonder,¡± she muses.

    ¡°I don¡¯t remember the exact address, but it¡¯s on Foragger road. Huge abandoned warehouse, you can¡¯t miss it, it¡¯s like the only thing on the road. If you get on top of one of the storage shelves, you can access the roof working. From there you can¡­¡±

    My voice trails off as her face turns to stone, and her eyes to ice.

    In an instant, her handgun is pointed at the security camera.

    I¡¯m on my feet by the time she¡¯s shot it, but the barrel is pointed at me before I can move.

    Gunshot.

    ~

    ¡­You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    ¡­

    ¡­

    ¡­

    ¡­

    Gunshot.

    ¡­

    Body drop

    ¡­

    Hashtag: Body bag

    ¡­

    Toll tag: Shot in the head

    ~

    The sky was dark, and the smog blotted out even the moon from illuminating the grim scene.

    A tear rolled down the face of the policeman and joined the others in a solemn swim on the concrete.

    The arm of one of his colleagues held his broad, shuddering shoulders.

    A shield, made of the strongest metal, braced by the strongest of warriors, cannot stop a tsunami.

    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ going to start raining soon.¡±

    The chief of police didn¡¯t push the other officer away, but rather remained standing in rigid vigil, watching his tears drip to the ground. The body had already been taken away, and he had watched, unbearable thoughts possessing and reaping his battered mind.

    Indeed, it started to rain. Not a soft, solemn shower, but rather a heavy, splattering, gritty sort of rain, that would hit the ground and leap into the tallest of rubber boots. He barely only noticed when the puddle at his feet grew, and distorted the meager, onyx reflection of his stoic face.

    ¡°I guess¡­ I¡¯ll leave you then,¡± the other officer said, returning to the warm comfort of the police department.

    But the chief of police didn¡¯t move, he remained standing stronger than the tallest of oaks that had lived in the very place he called a home, many years ago. Their spirits danced around him, giving unnoticed comfort for his grief.

    His body was in its prime condition, there weren¡¯t many that could compete, but this man¡¯s spirit was crushed, trampled, and nearly destroyed. However, he was not a shell of his former self. This man, though bitten, would not become a zombie.

    ~

    I rap my bruised knuckles against the door. There¡¯s no response. ¡°Kaloaan? Hey, it¡¯s me¡­ can I come in?¡±

    The door opens and the sullen figure of my brother, towering over me appears. The bags under his eyes are dark and heavy, and his shoulders are hunched with tiredness. He¡¯s still wearing the damp, navy blue police uniform. ¡°Hi¡­ Kallix. D¡¯you want to come in?¡±

    I nod, and he steps aside. I swallow vigilantly as I see his usually crisp, tidy, organized down the dust apartment, looking like a tornado had swept through it. His glass coffee table is smashed, his couch is torn, his clothes are strewn everywhere and multiple different half-drunk bottles of liquor litter the floor. I decide not to comment. I¡¯ve never actually seen him drink.

    ¡°Did you need anything?¡± he asks, shutting the door and sitting solemnly on his couch. I sit opposite him, large pieces of jagged glass between us.

    I shake my head. ¡°How¡¯re you holding up?¡±

    He sniffs. ¡°I¡¯m not really sure. Take a guess,¡± he sweeps his hand around the mess. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯m going to tell mom.¡±

    ¡°Did she know?¡± I ask. ¡°That you and Firidah were¡­¡±

    He nods. For the first time I see stubble around his usually perfectly trimmed goatee. ¡°Yeah she did. She never liked her though, and for good reason, I guess. I don¡¯t want her to know what I did. I don¡¯t want her to think of me as-¡±

    ¡°A badass?¡± I cut him off. ¡°You saved my damn life, bastard. If you came in a split second too soon, I¡¯d be dead meat, and you¡¯d be believing a bullshit story that she would be telling you.¡±

    My brother winces.

    ¡°You¡¯re not a murderer,¡± I persist. ¡°You did¡­ what you had to do. You saved a life, even if it was a cruddy one, but that¡¯s what cops do, right?¡± I ask, the self-consciousness of my shitty consolation growing within me.

    ¡°I just¡­¡± he starts. ¡°She was such a good person.¡± His voice is strangled, and his eyes are moist. ¡°She followed every damn rule, she new what to do in every scenario, she had my back all the freaking time. She¡¯s saved my life more than once.¡± Sobs shudder through his body.

    I¡¯m not sure what to respond. I can¡¯t imagine what he¡¯s going through. I can¡¯t even begin to understand how he feels.

    ¡°I was going to propose,¡± says after a while. ¡°In one or two months time. She was going to move in. We would remain professional at work but give our coworkers the tiniest of hints that we were married, let them figure it out for themselves. They would gasp when they did, and we would giggle¡­ kiss in front of them. We would have a little girl, called Yarika, and she would look just like her mother.¡±

    As he speaks, the scene replays in my mind. The shot that took out the security camera. She didn¡¯t even look. She knew exactly where it was. She¡¯d practiced. Her arm, perfectly held, swiveled towards me. The barrel of the gun looked like a shark¡¯s eye right before it kills. I didn¡¯t get a chance to look at her¡¯s before I heard the shot. I thought I was dead for a moment. I almost felt the bullet tear through my chest. Instead, I saw her head snap to the left, and her body crumple out of sight, behind the table. Kaloaan stood in the doorway with a look of sheer utter terror on his face. Not the terror one feels when they see a ghost, or a demon, poised to attack them, but the terror of somebody who¡¯s walked into the remains of a genocide that they inadvertently caused. The gun dropped from his hands, and he held my gaze for the briefest of moments, his mouth agape, before he dropped to her side.

    I don¡¯t like him looking like this. His dirty face, sunken eyes and hollow cheeks remind me of myself. I don¡¯t know what to do. I¡¯m frozen. Paralyzed with uncertainty. Kaloaan is a stone, an unbreakable wall in my life. An impenetrable fortress that I escape to any time I ever needed. He¡¯s not the sobbing mess before me. I turned him into that. I¡¯m infectious. I¡­ I¡¯m a disease¡­

    ¡°We still haven¡¯t found dad,¡± Kaloaan continues, pulling himself together. He hugs his arms close to him. He¡¯s got nobody to wrap their arms around him and offer their warmth. He¡¯s got no shoulder to cry on. All he has is me.

    ¡°He wasn¡¯t in the building?¡±

    ¡°No. They packed up and vanished. Not a trace of them left besides a couple shards of a smashed beer bottle. Zorikan¡¯s got eyes and ears in every nook and cranny of this damn city. He¡¯s permanently one move ahead.¡±

    Silence envelopes us for a moment.

    ¡°So¡­ what¡¯s your move forward?¡± I ask, awkwardly. I need to get his mind on moving on, thinking practically. That¡¯s what he¡¯s best at.

    He grimaces. ¡°I want to keep up the search, but it¡¯s¡­ selfish of me. The police force is getting a lot of shit lately.¡±

    That¡¯s the first time I¡¯ve ever heard him swear.

    ¡°Based off public demand, and urgency, we need most of our men on the look of for Qiara.¡±

    ¡°And the Foraging Raven¡¯s Nest?¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­ that to. We have to neutralize the threat of Qiara first. She¡¯s too dangerous, too lethal. Another death; Leerr Kenroy, a rapper who was publicly against bansilin use was found in his trailer his brains dripping into his sink. After we get rid of her, we can work to taking out the Raven¡¯s Nest.¡±

    ¡°Makes sense. Hey, watch out alright?¡±

    ¡°Huh?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re influential. You¡¯re against bansilin,¡± I say.

    He catches on. ¡°Yeah, I guess. I¡¯d like to see them try though,¡± he says with a halfhearted smirk.

    At least.

    ¡°Hey, look,¡± he continues. ¡°I know I shouldn¡¯t ask this of you but¡­¡± he pauses, looking at me as if for confirmation to continue.

    I don¡¯t budge.

    ¡°But dad is still missing, and I can¡¯t really do anything about it. This Zorikan guy, he¡¯s after you though. You¡¯ll be able to find him, won¡¯t you? You¡¯ll be able to get dad?¡±

    I¡¯m as still as a gargoyle.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but we¡¯ve got to get him. We can¡¯t just leave him with that monster. I would give you a few of my men, but I know you¡¯d refuse¡­¡±

    I cough.

    ¡°You don¡¯t need to rescue him, just locate him. And keep this on you,¡± he hands me a small, black walkie talkie that fits into my palm. ¡°I just can¡¯t sleep knowing he¡¯s out there.¡±

    I swallow. I shift my position. I avert my eyes from the gleaming glass shards at my feet, to the brown liquid dripping out of a misty bottle.

    ¡°Kallix?¡± he asks.

    I shake my head. I near unnoticeable gesture, so small it would take a detective eyes to notice it. Unfortunately¡­

    ¡°Kallix I know how it sounds,¡± he starts.

    I stand abruptly, making him jolt. There¡¯s no way I¡¯m going back there. Not a chance I¡¯m risking getting back into Zorikan¡¯s clutches for my bitch of a dad. Not a damn chance.

    ¡°Hey, stop! Wait!¡± he calls.

    Like a snake, I slither away, faster than his eyes can even follow. Down the stairs, skipping entire flights and out the door I plunge. The night is weak, and my brother¡¯s apologies are strong. I am fast.

    Down the road I tear, murky puddles splashing at my quake. I cannot be stopped. I will not be stopped. My instincts rein my body, and my mind is thrown from its unstable throne.

    I don¡¯t tire.

    I don¡¯t think.

    I simply run.

    I see, but do not register the glint of moonlight of a bottle. I notice, but do not react to a car, swerving drunkenly past me. I look, but do not understand as a figure dives out of my way.

    Eventually, I stop. My muscles are hot with exhaustion but my adrenaline surges like a gushing river through my body. My lungs and heart are working beyond what should be capable, but the imbalance of chemicals within me widens my trachea and feeds my heart energy that I shouldn¡¯t even possess.

    The door in front of me is red, illuminated in the dim porch light so it appears blood-like. The brass figures at my eye level show me numerals I do not process. A flicker of uncertainty passes through me as the plastic doorbell does not crunch under my thumb, as most usually do.

    I wait as moments pass, like a serial killer, patiently biding his time before his victim lets him in. When the door does open, the girl in front of me lets out a quick gasp. I don¡¯t know why I ended up here. I¡¯m not sure how mu subconscious brought me here. As my mind struggles to fight off the chemicals, an image of myself flickers in front of me.

    Sunken, dark, eyes, like a cornered wolf.

    Hollow, bony cheeks, like a zombie.

    Sickly pale, bruised, sweaty skin, like a living mannequin.

    Long, thick, unruly hair, like a scarecrow¡¯s.

    Thin, twitching, scabbed fingers, like an electrically pumped corpse.

    Crusty, brown¡­

    ¡°What are you doing here?¡± the girl asks. ¡°And what the hell happened to you?¡±

    My eyes, like a bull¡¯s flit to her brilliant red hair. ¡°You have no idea,¡± I croak. I sniff. I cough. I stagger. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ sorry, Tauren.¡±

    ¡°Really? Really? You¡¯re freaking sorry? Kallix goddamn Rane is sorry? Wow, this is revolutionary,¡± Tauren snaps. ¡°After you left me, a crumpled mess, sobbing on the side of the road, you¡¯re sorry?¡±

    ¡°Tauren I¡­¡±

    ¡°No! Don¡¯t Tauren me. You¡¯re a damn monster!¡±

    ¡°I know.¡±

    ¡°Then why don¡¯t you do anything! You¡¯re a piece of shit and you know it! I don¡¯t know why you came here. I don¡¯t know what you thought you¡¯d receive. Just get the hell out of here and maybe I won¡¯t freaking stab you.¡±

    ¡°I can¡­¡±

    ¡°No. Fuck you, Kallix Rane.¡±

    The door slams.

    I wince.

    I amble a few steps.

    Not even my adrenaline is left.

    Even it has deserted me.

    And for good reason.

    Why the hell would anybody want to live around me?

    ~

    I shuffle down the aisle, the people tucked into their seats casting me weary looks as I wait for the obese man ahead of me to squeeze onwards. I¡¯m not exactly sure where the bus is going. It¡¯s not going to East Side, and it¡¯s not staying here. That¡¯s all I need. Anywhere. Anywhere away from here.

    The fat man plops himself down on a seat, and I grace down the bus. The last seat is filled with over six girls, giggling and pointing fingers at me, so I swing myself into an empty space, two rows ahead.

    The bus rumbles to a start, and a bit I stare solemnly out the window, but I soon grow sick of the grimy sprawl and turn my gaze to the seat across from mine, where my heart skips a beat.

    Passed out against the window, with his legs stretched out into the aisle, is the unmistakable figure of Deqar, purple mohawk, dark eyeliner, rings and all. He¡¯s also escaping. He also can¡¯t remain. Maybe I¡¯m not as alone as I thought.

 2.1: Flaming Resilience

    1

    ¡°I messed up with Zorikan. That¡¯s not something you do and then just walk away, unless you¡¯re you, of course. I didn¡¯t really have that many friends around, with Varan being¡­ you know¡­ and Rieka and Zorikan go hand in hand, so I just stayed with one of my friends. Name¡¯s Terrel, good guy, but I got drunk, I think, and I really told him off. Don¡¯t know exactly what happened. I don¡¯t remember much, but I do know that I woke up on the streets, and the streets are Zorikan¡¯s kingdom,¡± Deqar finishes.

    ¡°So, you decided to just hop on this bus, no idea where it¡¯s headed?¡± I ask him.

    ¡°Yeah, pretty much,¡± he sighs. The bus jolts so much that we¡¯re lifted off our seats for an instant. ¡°What about you?¡±

    I shrug. ¡°Same thing. Kind of.¡±

    ¡°Couple of misfits we are, eh?¡±

    I raise an eyebrow at him.

    He gives me an odd, toothy grin. One of his upper canines is missing.

    ¡°This bus¡­ has no air in it,¡± I comment. The grimy bus, though not completely full, has no windows open and invisible plumes of nasty exhales and farts swirl beneath the ceiling. ¡°Can these windows open?¡± I ask, fiddling with some sort of black, plastic, lock-looking contraption.

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t do that if I were you,¡± Deqar mutters, as the window suddenly snaps open.

    I¡¯m blasted with harsh, fresh wind, but instantly stung by the sand. I swing it shut, panting.

    ¡°Yeah if you hadn¡¯t figured it out, the Dunes¡¯ve got a lot of sand,¡± Deqar tells me, cracking his knuckles.

    ¡°Wow. Never would¡¯ve guessed.¡±

    An empty soda can suddenly lands on my lap, then tumbles down between my legs and disappears under the seat ahead of me. I chorus of muffled giggles reach my ears.

    ¡°I think they like you,¡± Deqar says with the left side of his mouth stretched out.

    I don¡¯t even bother looking at the cramped city girls behind me, gossiping in hushed tones.

    ¡°Why don¡¯t you ask them where we¡¯re headed?¡±

    ¡°Maybe because they¡¯re acting like they¡¯ve got peas for brains?¡±

    ¡°Aww, come on.¡±

    ¡°Why don¡¯t you do it?¡±

    ¡°Alright then,¡± Deqar clears his throat, and rears up onto his knees, resting his arms of the back of his seat. ¡°Hey there, ladies. Mind if you could tell me whereabouts this bus is headed?¡±

    I can¡¯t help but laugh at the awkward silence that follows.

    He slumps back into his seat, exasperated. ¡°I must admit, I¡¯m not much of a ladies man, come to think of it.¡±

    ¡°Is that why you became gay?¡± I laugh.

    ¡°Nah, mate. Actually¡­ kinda. I like to tell myself that I was born like this though,¡± he chuckles, heartily.

    Not many people you can find that can actually make fun of themselves without getting defensive nowadays.

    ¡°Anyway, what happened to you, mate? Looks like you haven¡¯t eaten in a week!¡±

    I shrug. ¡°I¡¯m going on a diet.¡±

    ¡°Yeah? What¡¯s it called?¡±

    ¡°Having no money and being too depressed to steal,¡± I mutter, reopening my window.

    Deqar erupts into laughter, stomping his feet on the ground and clutching at his sides. ¡°Shit man, what the hell? I thought I was bad, but you¡¯re something else dude.¡±

    I¡¯m about to respond, when something catches my ear. Above the rattling noise of the engine, and above the sea of chatter that surrounds me, is something else. ¡°Hey, you hear that whistling?¡±

    ¡°That dude at the front whistling ¡°Ol¡¯ Barge Man¡±?¡±

    ¡°No, I can hear something else. Something-¡±

    And explosion rips through the front half of the bus, tossing the fifteen-tonne vehicle into the air. The bus lands sickeningly, levitating me before slamming me into the side again as it rolls down the dune. For seconds, I¡¯m tossed like a rag doll within the bus, hitting the roof, window edge, floor, seat and other people before the back of my head hits an edge, and wind rushes all around me. I¡¯m momentarily suspended in the air, hurtling like a dice for a brief, dizzying second before the world turns to sand. Bright, burning hot sand.

    I cry out, a sound between a roar and a groan, clasping my head. I feel wetness though my hair. The sand burns my bare stomach, forcing me to roll onto my side and literally writhe. Pain spiderwebs through my skull, but is suddenly overwhelmed by nausea, sending my on my hands and knees of barfing out my insides. I retract my scorched palms from the fiery sand and slump back onto my haunches, instinctively reaching for my pills. I tap two of them into my mouth, and forcefully fight them down my parched throat. The world is a dizzying abstract painting of beige and blue, spinning like a casino roulette. I clasp my head in my hands and force it to stop spinning, until eventually I manage to blink clarity back into my hazy eyes.

    I¡¯m staring up a dune, with a strikingly bright blue sky as my narrowed horizon. I turn and see pure carnage.

    The bus, or rather the rear end of the bus, lies on its side, smashed and battered from it¡¯s tumble, and melted metal dripping off it. Flames that breath out the shattered windows are crawling down the last few seats before the end of the bus. The front half is a black smear on the sand, with bits of melted plastic and charred flesh.

    Between me and the desolation, are scattered bodies, some of whom are either dead or unconscious, others are groaning and holding their heads like me. Most of them are the girls that can sat behind me.

    I rise slowly to my feet and walk waveringly towards a small black piece of plastic that has caught my eye. Sunglasses. My sunglasses. I snatch them up, and slide them on, releasing a held breath as my eyes calm down.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    Shit. Deqar.

    I run, or rather scamper down the dune towards the flaming bus, dodging bits of molten seats and groaning girls. ¡°Deqar! Deqar!¡± I holler, charging onwards.

    I¡¯m half way there when the entire thing erupts in a spectacular explosion before me, blasting me with a heat wave. I dive out of the way as a hunk of flaming black goo arches though the sky towards me. ¡°Deqar!¡± I scream at the top of my lungs, staring in horror as the near volcanic eruption reduces to a couple of licking flames.

    ¡°Kallix!¡±

    I flinch. He¡¯s alive. My eyes scan the wreckage and see a couple of the girls struggling to their feet, but Deqar.

    ¡°Kallix turn around you dipshit!¡±

    I swivel and see him ten meters further up the dune. A sigh of relief escapes me. ¡°What the hell?¡± I yell back.

    ¡°We were shot!¡± he hollers.

    An icy feeling crawls down my spine as I see a figure, clad in military gear emerge from atop the dune, behind Deqar. The figure points a pistol to his temple. Deqar¡¯s hands shoot up and his eyes fill with terror.

    The girls that can still stand are scrambling away like rats. I¡¯m about to join them, about to run from the only friend I¡¯ve still got and become a cockroach in a sewer once again, when I hear, ¡°Don¡¯t move, or we will shoot him.¡±

    We?

    With my hands raised, I slowly turn back to the figure, who¡¯s now been joined by several others, each of which are brandishing nasty looking firearms.

    ¡°Come here.¡±

    I trudge up the dune, conscious of the blood trickling down the back of my neck. These are no policemen. This is the army.

    ¡°What¡¯re your names?¡± asks the man in front to Deqar and I. His shoulder¡¯s are broader than Kaloaan¡¯s, and his biceps are as big as Dainin¡¯s. He sports a blonde buzzcut, a strong, square jaw and cold blue eyes.

    ¡°Deqar Teskaniky.¡±

    ¡°Kallix Rane.¡±

    He nods, affirmatively. ¡°Well then, Deqar and Kallix, do you know why my friend Lorick over there just blew up your bus?¡± he asks, gesturing to a burly man with repulsively ugly face holding a massive RPG over his shoulder.

    We shake our heads tentatively. From the corner of my eye I can see the last of the surviving girls making it over the nearest dune and disappearing.

    ¡°Because this is a warzone,¡± he continues, ¡°And your people will be killed if they enter it.¡±

    ¡°What about them?¡± I ask, just before Deqar elbows me in the ribs.

    ¡°The Dunes are not a place you can simply walk through. There¡¯s no point in killing those who the world will kill for you,¡± he continues with a faint, morbid smile. He inhales sharply. ¡°Do you know why you¡¯re still alive?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re lucky?¡± I suggest, receiving another blow from Deqar, this one accompanied by a hiss.

    ¡°Yes, and also because you look like people I could use. As you can see here, we¡¯ve suffered casualties,¡± he sweeps his hand around the group. There are roughly ten or so of them. ¡°With the two men back at camp, this is all we¡¯ve got. I think you two have got potential. I think I might be able to make men out of you. What do you think?¡±

    Deqar gives him one of his toothy grins. ¡°I¡¯m grateful for the opportunity to be serving you,¡± he says with a pathetic bow.

    He turns to me.

    ¡°Is there an alternative?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Of course,¡± he says, switching the safety of his pistol back off.

    I swallow. ¡°Consider me of service.¡±

    ¡°Perfect,¡± he smiles. Not horrid smile of somebody who enjoys killing, but rather the stony smile of someone who has killed so much they no longer register it anymore than they do drinking water. ¡°My name is Sergeant Blax, and this is corporal Janns,¡± he introduces.

    A tall, curly haired man with an oversized gun snickers at us.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll learn the names of the rest of our squad soon enough. We¡¯ll equip you with uniforms and weapons as well as give you the briefing of what our mission is once we¡¯ve arrived at camp. Move out.¡±

    Deqar and I exchange shaky glances.

    What the hell have I got myself into?

    ~

    The military buggy hits a rock, making me nearly fly off my precarious seat on the edge of the vehicle. Blax drives like he¡¯s being pursued by a T-rex, veering around bigger stones and launching them straight off the dune crests. The wind blasts my hair so it¡¯s billowing like a flag, and I¡¯m clinging to one of the thin metal pieces that make up the sides and roof of the buggy. Beats my brother¡¯s car waiting claustrophobically in a traffic jam. Deqar¡¯s on the place where the seat is, but instead of getting the comfort of a seat, he sits on top of a large metal barrel, that got priority over him. His head sticks out the top, between two metal bars in a way that if the buggy stops too quickly, his voice box would be shoved into his neck vertebrae, forcing him to protect himself with his hands.

    Sergeant Blax is in the front, the full seat to himself, and next to him is Janns, who nearly has the same comfort. Precariously half out of the ¡®window¡¯ of the buggy, with her legs laid over Janns, and her upper half on the outside, holding the frame to keep herself up, is probably the most beautiful woman I¡¯ve ever seen in my life. She¡¯s definitely older than me, probably older than Tauren, with smooth, dark skin, the most defined waist curve I¡¯ve ever seen accompanied by perfectly thick thighs and a flat stomach. Her breasts are comparable to Tauren¡¯s but she outclasses her with her long neck, sharp jaw, pronounced cheekbones, searing hazel eyes and braided pony tail whipping behind her. I¡¯m entranced.

    In the back, me, Deqar and, cramped on the barrel next to Deqar, sitting with an RPG between his legs is Lorick, who¡¯s as ugly as the woman up front is beautiful. On the last seat, sit an old, probable veteran, who¡¯s name tag, stitched onto his uniform, reads: Horgan, and tall thin woman called Weshleri. Both are fairly repulsive names.

    The rockier landscape that sculpts the horizon dawns on us faster than I would¡¯ve thought possible. Blax shifts gear and veers around a rock formation, forcing me to cling for my dear life.

    After several heart racing minutes of videogame style driving through the rocks, the buggy skids to a halt and the doors pop open. I tumble out of the window, thoroughly sand blasted, and try and shake dust from my hair. Deqar¡¯s mohawk has gone from deep purple to dusty pink, and his neck has been rubbed red.

    The camp is little more than a couple, large camo tents pitched between the jagged rock formations and multiple metal barrels, like the one Deqar was sitting on, some of which have chairs around them. A few people come to greet us as the other buggy veers into the camp, halting perpendicular to Blax¡¯s.

    ¡°I see you brought back a couple stray dogs,¡± comments a girl with a soft, slightly scratchy voice.

    She¡¯s short, fairly built, with long black hair that¡¯s got blue, silver and pink streaks infused, alongside colorful feathers, beads, braids and plates. The camo army clothes don¡¯t do her justice.

    She trots over to us, a big welcoming smile on her face. ¡°Afternoon, fellow relegated, name¡¯s Sekera,¡± she holds her hand out.

    Deqar takes it quickly, while I watch her with distrust.

    She looks like she¡¯s about say something to me, when Blax clears his throat. ¡°Janns, show our new friends around.¡±

    Janns, tall and curly haired, looks at us with disdain, like we just interrupted him playing a video game, then chucks a rock at the buggy. The stunning woman from earlier looks up, sees him, then shoots a questioning look. He jerks his head at us, and she looks back exasperated. He switches to a pleading face, and she sighs. ¡°Alright. C¡¯mon, let me show you around,¡± she says, exasperated.

    To my annoyance, I fail to catch her nametag, but instead get an eyeful of the most brilliant, full, curved, rounded ass I¡¯ve ever seen in my life. I can¡¯t help wondering what she¡¯d look like if she wasn¡¯t wearing the chunky military pants.

    We follow her like sheep as she instructively points out all the parts of the camp. They slide past me as she continues to walk, I¡¯m hypnotized by the rhythm. Utterly taken aback by the beauty.

    Deqar elbows me. ¡°Dude.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± I ask, huskily.

    ¡°You¡¯re drooling.¡±

    ¡°No, I¡¯m not.¡±

    ¡°Wipe your damn chin, idiot.¡±

    I bring a hand to my mouth and am shocked to realize that he¡¯s telling the truth.

    ¡°Did you say something?¡± she asks, stopping and looking over her shoulder as I hastily rub my shirt across my mouth.

    ¡°Oh no, nothing,¡± Deqar replies.

    It¡¯s a perfectly normal stance, but to me she looks like a playboy model, and I¡¯m forced to pull my eyes up to her face, which is just as beautiful a sight. Their almond-shaped and speckled, and her nose is small and¡­

    That¡¯s as far as my analysis goes before turns back and continues the briefing. Eventually, she stops, turns to us and asks, ¡°Any question?¡±

    At last I can get her name. My eyes find her stitched nametag. Amethyst. What a name. Then I realize that her nametag is literally on her boob, so I quickly look up, only to find her looking me directly in the eye.

    Her face changes from open, to a mix between humorous and disgust. I curse under my breath.

    ¡°Nope. We¡¯re all good,¡± Deqar informs, happily.

    ¡°Nice. Tell Janns to give you the briefing of the ravine. And tell him I said bet¡¯s off,¡± she calls, walking back to camp in a way that somehow looks both purposeful and nonchalant at the same time.

    I¡¯m dumbfounded.

 2.2: Youre a Dick, You Know That?

    2

    "Alright princesses, wake the hell up!"

    I groan and rub my eyes as the searing beam of a torch blinds me.

    ¡°Morning training, lets go!¡± Sergeant Blax orders, standing at the front of the tent, clad in full uniform.

    ¡°Deqar. Deqar,¡± I mutter, sitting up and groggily slapping at his face.

    ¡°Huh?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve got¡­ morning something.¡±

    ¡°Morning what?¡±

    ¡°I dunno,¡± I respond, slipping into the rough military trousers.

    We converse in hushed tones, so as not to draw any attention to the hulking men that bustle around us in the cramped tent, changing into their uniforms.

    When we step out of the tent, the cold, fresh early morning air chills me awake. All I can see of the camp are sweeps of torches in the darkness. The rocky soil crunches beneath my books as we follow the others, merging with the girls into one group, standing before Blax.

    He gazes at us evenly. ¡°Route D1. I want you back before the sunset ends. Understand?¡±

    The recruits let out a muttered chorus of yes sirs.

    ¡°Amethyst,¡± Blax calls.

    She looks up from picking dirt from her nails.

    ¡°I trust you¡¯ll show the new recruits where to go, and make sure they don¡¯t fall too far behind, alright?¡± As he says it, a sickening smile creeps onto his face that makes a shiver run down my spine.

    She rolls her eyes, and gives a halfhearted, ¡°Yes sir.¡±

    Deqar and I exchange glances.

    The group break into a run. A steady jog that Deqar and I have no difficulty keeping, but we fall to the back of the group still. Unfortunately, this means I don¡¯t get a good view at the glorious bouncing dick hardener behind Amethyst as she leads the way.

    The run drags on, and the pitch darkness of the moonless night soon turns to the dull grey of predawn. I marvel at the landscape as the first sunrays break from the horizon.

    Tall plateaus appear red in the distance. Massive rock formations look like mega sized modern art sculptures. Towering cliffs littered with caves dwarf the high-rise buildings that paint my memories.

    The air, though dusty and dry, is free from the toxic belching of cars, planes, trains and factories. The sunrise ahead of me, though blinding, is infinitely more spectacular than the grey hued midday sun that peeks between skyscrapers. We snake through boulders, up sheer hills of brittle stone and crest into a location that looks like a giant hit it with a massive axe, leaving a crevice of space large enough five of us to stand shoulder to shoulder. Within it, is a series of elaborately set up pieces of metal and rubber. At first I¡¯m confused, thinking it might be a wreckage or a ruin of some sort, and then I realize that I¡¯m looking at an obstacle course.

    ¡°Alright, lazy twats,¡± Amethyst calls, turning on her heel to face us. ¡°There¡¯s no order, there¡¯re no rules. Get to the other side first and you get Viinyar¡¯s portion of the rations. Everybody clear?¡±

    ¡°Who¡¯s Viinyar?¡± Deqar asks the short, angry faced man beside him, who¡¯s name I read to be Ficlan.

    ¡°He¡¯s dead. Shot two days ago on recon,¡± he mutters back with a shockingly deep voice.

    ¡°Alright let¡¯s go!¡± Amethyst cries.

    Everybody breaks into a run.

    ¡°Just our kinda thing, huh?¡± I tell Deqar before taking off after them. Maybe I can get Amethyst to notice me. Maybe she won¡¯t think I¡¯m some little kid if I win.

    The first obstacles are tall stacks of tires. At first, everybody weaves through them with ease, but soon the tires become so dense, it becomes impossible to keep a pace, slowing everybody to stuttering jog.

    Deqar and I quickly overtake Horgan and one other soldier who¡¯re struggling to keep up. I see Lorick trip and fall into a tire stack, but instead of trying to stop himself, he lurches into it, toppling it down onto Weshleri, the thin black haired girl. Unable, nor willing to stop for her, I¡¯m forced to leap over the scattered tires in my pursuit of the first position.

    When I finally break free of the tire forest, I¡¯ve slipped before I can register what¡¯s happening.

    I¡¯m sliding down an immensely muddy hill, with no source of traction whatsoever, directly towards a gushing, white water river! At first I think I¡¯ve taken a wrong turn, until I see several others sliding down ahead of me. I regain my senses, and see Janns, who¡¯s just overtaken Amethyst in the slide, reach the edge of the river and grab onto a muddy rope, stretching across the water diagonally.

    As I¡¯m sliding, I see Amethyst reach the end of the hill, and somehow find the balance to pull herself into a frog position and launch herself at the rope, with Janns clinging onto it. She lands a solid kick to his back sending him plunging into the icy water, and manages to grab the rope in her fall, hooking her legs around and traversing on like a sloth.

    Shit.

    Others trail after her and she¡¯s nearly onto the other side by the time I¡¯m about to reach the end of the slope.

    Unsure what to do, I open my legs, like as if I¡¯m intending to crush my balls, but lean over to the left. When I hit the rope, I catch it under my right knee and swing around, over it once and wrap my arms around it like a baby to their mothers leg.

    Sloth climb. Go!

    The icy water hisses at me with frosty breath, licking at my back. How on earth can a river be this cold in the bloody desert? By the time I reach the other side, I¡¯ve caught up to the guy ahead of me, named Cherthur, and see him trying to scrabble up the river bank. I pull myself as far up as possible, then flip down onto the precariously edge back, and shuffle up after him.

    You know what? Screw this bastard.

    I poise, then launch myself upwards, grabbing onto his ankle.

    ¡°You dick!¡± he cries, just as I yank with all my force.

    He easily looses grip of the slippery surface and slides down into the river with futile attempts to grab me.

    I haul myself onto dry land just as Deqar drops onto the river bank.

    Scrambling to my feet and breaking into a run, I see the squat figure of Ficlan, neck and neck with Sekera, who I can easily identify by the flashing colors of her hair. Ahead of them is Lorick, and then Amethyst, who¡¯s just reached what looks like a slanted rock climbing wall.

    I pump harder, run faster and channel my mind into propelling me further. By the time Deqar is running after me, I¡¯ve closed much of the distance between me and Ficlan and Sekera.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

    I hurl myself onto the wall, grunting as I smack into it with too much force, and begin to scale upwards like a spider. I see Ficlan literally stop halfway up and gawk as I overtake him. Sekera, crafty as she is, uses this opportunity to kick his knee, sending him tumbling down, nearly into Deqar.

    I pass her just as I¡¯m reaching the top of the wall, but as I¡¯m clambering over the edge she grabs my ankle. I grunt and kick out, then hesitate as I see her grinning like a maniac.

    She uses me to pull herself up, then literally grabs at my dick. I wince and thrash as she pulls my collar, then plants a foot on my thigh and shoots forwards. Recovering quickly, I spin myself like a top, managing to kick her ankle.

    She yelps and tumbles to the ground as I scramble towards her. She pulls herself up, but I body check her back down. Crazy bitch.

    Alright, it¡¯s just Lorick between me and Amethyst now. I cross the bracing stretch of dusty earth to reach the next challenge. It¡¯s a sort of elevated metal beam, crossing a wide gorge with a branch of the river running beneath it. Dangling from the beam are ropes with tires attached to them. Amethyst swings from tire to tire like a monkey, not as far ahead as I¡¯d thought, while Lorick is pulling himself up onto one. There must¡¯ve been a struggle between them, and Lorick had probably been nearly sent to a watery failure.

    Thinking quickly, I don¡¯t even bother with the tires, but leap into the air and grab the metal beam. From there, I move on like I¡¯m doing monkey bars, going from hand to hand.

    I¡¯ve caught up to Lorick by the end. My feet are at his eye level, so I give him a nice kick for good luck and scramble after Amethyst. I¡¯m just getting my pace when I¡¯m literally slide tackled.

    Sekera pulls herself off me and tries to escape, but I grab her by the calf and pull her down. She tries to knee me in the stomach, but hits my ribs instead. I roll backwards onto my upper back with my legs in the air and lock my feet around her chest. Before she can react I slam her down with all the force my core can manage, and hastily clamber to my feet again.

    In the distance, I see the unmistakable triangular figure of Blax, next to a buggy. But between me and him, are a series of tall, wide hurdles. They¡¯re too close together to leap over continuously, too high to vault each one without losing major momentum, and too low to duck under without going into a weird duckwalk.

    Lorick, who¡¯s overtaken me, is desperately vaulting over them at a laughably slow pace. Amethyst, is vaulting, then using her downwards momentum and ducking, then springing up and vaulting. A good tactic that keeps her moving much faster than Lorick, but not fast enough for me to catch up to her.

    I tear forwards and reach the first hurdle. I beg whatever overlord there is to give me perfect accuracy as I fling myself up. I land perfectly atop the first hurdle with my right foot.

    No stopping.

    Loss of momentum means you¡¯ve fallen.

    I barrel forwards, running atop the hurdles like some sort of action hero.

    I overtake Lorick quickly, but Amethyst¡¯s still got a sizeable lead on me. Not that much time left. I run faster, gaining on her and quickly closing the distance between us. This will be tight.

    As I cover the last few hurdles between us, the end of the course draws near. It¡¯s on the fourth last hurdle that I¡¯m at par with her, and on the third last I¡¯m ahead by a fraction of a meter.

    It¡¯s on the second last hurdle when I¡¯m kicked solidly in the ankle.

    It¡¯s on the last hurdle of the entire damn race that I land, ribs first onto.

    I hit the hard dusty ground, nearly breaking my collarbone, and tumble to a halt. Through blurry, spinning vision, I see Amethyst reach the finish like as I struggle, weakly to my elbow, one arm holding the right side of my ribcage.

    Sekera passes me, laughing and shooting me a hysterical grin.

    Once I¡¯m on my hands and knees, I feel the force of an elephant crush me down, and the wind pushed from my chest. From ground level, I see Lorick chasing after Sekera, but not managing to reach her before the finish.

    Bloody hell.

    Somebody¡¯s hands scoop under my armpits and haul me to my feet.

    Deqar cringes and swings one of my arms over his. Together we limp past the finish line.

    Amethyst sits on the hood of the buggy, twirling two stones between her fingers. Sekera giggles with an apologetic look. Lorick sneers smugly. Blax¡¯s face is blank behind his blue shades, but I feel an aura of disappointment or disapproval. Not sure which one.

    Deqar helps me down, propped up against a rock as the others start to trickle in. I pull up my shirt, cringing through the pain of the action, and wince as I see a large, blue-black splotch from beneath my right nipple to the end of the midsection of my ribcage.

    ¡°Erk, that looks bad,¡± Deqar comments. ¡°Think anything¡¯s broken?

    ¡°The hell am I supposed to know?¡±

    Deqar knees in front of me, then prods the center of the bruise. ¡°Does that hurt?¡±

    ¡°Of course in freaking hearts!¡± I hiss.

    ¡°Can you breathe? Like, well?¡±

    ¡°That hurts too.¡±

    Sekera, with her colorful hair pads over to us. ¡°Eesh, bad first day, huh?¡±

    I show her the middle finger, and she holds both hands up in defense. ¡°Hey man, there¡¯re no rules, remember? Anyway, you did more damage to me than I did to you. Amethyst got you real good, didn¡¯t she.¡±

    I grunt.

    ¡°Yeah, she usually wins the races and gets the extra food. That plus how much she exercises is probably why she¡¯s so¡­ filled out,¡± she says, biting her lip.

    ¡°Would you buzz off?¡± I sneer.

    ¡°Don¡¯t be such a dick,¡± Deqar tells me under his breath.

    Blax clears his throat, and silence quickly envelopes the group. ¡°Good run today. One of you, as usual, managed to make the set time. Congratulations Amethyst.¡±

    She gives a strong salute. Freaking teacher¡¯s pet.

    ¡°And two of you,¡± Blax continues, ¡°Managed to get the threshold time. Congrats, Lorick and Sekera.¡±

    Lorick smiles, and Sekera gives an exaggerated sweeping bow. I growl.

    ¡°The rest of you, however, need to work on that. I expect extra practice from you lot. This is unacceptable by all standards.¡±

    The group are silent and dip their heads in shame. Blax nods, clambers into his buggy and drives off.

    ¡°You¡¯re a dick and a half Amethyst,¡± Janns laughs, finally reaching us. A puddle forms where he stands.

    ¡°Sorry you couldn¡¯t make me wet if you tried,¡± Amethyst says back, then slides into a lunge.

    The group laugh and start trekking the long way back to the camp.

    Deqar moves to help me, but I swat him away. ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡±

    He shrugs. ¡°Suit yourself, macho man.¡± He trails behind the others.

    It¡¯s just me, trying to get to my feet through the pain, and Amethyst, who¡¯s just finishing up her stretches. I can¡¯t help my gaze. It¡¯s as if she¡¯s taunting me. In a gimmick to try and prolong my view, I slump back down with a sigh.

    She finishes and looks over at me. I resume my struggle to stand.

    She walks over to me, looking like she¡¯s about to kick me back down. She stops and stares me right in the eye. ¡°Sorry.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± I say, blankly.

    ¡°Sorry about earlier. It was a dick move, I know.¡±

    ¡°Yeah you battered me real bad,¡± I say, treading carefully so as to not insult her.

    ¡°D¡¯you want me to check if anything¡¯s broken?¡± she asks.

    My heart races inside my chest, despite my exhaustion. ¡°Um, yeah. I mean, if you want to. If you know how, that is.¡±

    She gets down on her knees, and moves up, my legs between hers. She leans over, like as if she¡¯s about to suck me off. Her long, gentle, perfectly maintained, hands slide over my chest.

    Butterflies are taking a mixture of meth, cocaine and heroin in my stomach.

    It probably did hurt as she prods me, but I barely felt a thing, struggling not to stare down her cleavage. ¡°Looks like you¡¯re good. Strong of you, most people would¡¯ve broken a few ribs in a fall like that.¡±

    She¡¯s complimented me. She¡¯s basically crawled on me. This can work. I can make this work.

    Just as I¡¯m thinking, she stands up and offers me a hand. I take it and let her pull me to my feet. My legs, jelly from the amount of running I¡¯ve done, collapse a little, making our bodies touch. Her incredible hands catch me at my sides. It tickles in the most orgasmic way possible.

    ¡°Do¡­ do you want to¡­¡± my breath is ragged as I try to form words, lost in her hazel eyes.

    ¡°Do I want to?¡± she asks, a sly smile creeping onto her face.

    ¡°Do you want to¡­ you know¡­ shag?¡± I muster the confidence to pull one of my trademark lopsided smiles.

    Hers disappears, and one eyebrow shoots up. ¡°Excuse me?¡±

    ¡°Oh, shit, no sorry I meant-¡±

    ¡°What the hell do you think I am? Some sort of city slut? I¡¯m freaking twenty seven, you¡¯re like twelve.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sixteen,¡± I correct.

    ¡°And you look like a goth scarecrow,¡± she takes a long step away from me. ¡°You haven¡¯t even got a hint of facial hair.¡±

    My hand moves defensively to the whiskers on my chin.

    ¡°Maybe we can talk when you grow some pubes,¡± she says, turning away and striding after the others, now mere dots on the horizon.

    My gaze trickles down her back, to her¡­

    ¡°Pervert!¡± she hollers, looking me directly in the eye.

    Shit.

    She walks on, and I¡¯m left alone, too bruised to keep up.

    You¡¯ve really messed that one up, Kallix. You¡¯re used to slutty city girls. Your perverted sack of bones can¡¯t get a goddess like this. Hell were you thinking? Deqar stands a better chance of getting her now, and he¡¯s freaking gay! Blasted shitty hormones.

    I look down, to see a tall standing cone in my pants.

    ¡°What the hell?¡± I ask my dick. ¡°What the hell was that? You blew it for me, you know that? You too brain, you¡¯re a real twat, you know that?¡±

    I lift my hands, then let them fall to my sides.

    Nice one.

    A familiar throbbing tension ache seeps into my shoulder. I groan. At least that hasn¡¯t ditched me. ¡°You¡¯ll stick with me until the end, right horrid throbbing tension pain?¡± I ask, slamming my fist down into my shoulder, cracking my neck and stretching my head as far as I can to the right. Screw this. I pop a pill. No, you know what? Screw all of this shit. Screw them. Screw Blax. Screw Amethyst.

    I limp around the rocks, until I find a particularly comfortable spot to recline on. Or at least as comfortable as it can be when it¡¯s made out of rocks. I don¡¯t need those damn bastards. I got myself. That¡¯s all I¡¯ve ever needed and that¡¯s all I ever will need.

    But maybe I should¡¯ve brought my sunglasses.

 2.3 The Taste of Dirt

    3

    It¡¯s night by the time I arrive back in camp. The camp is silent, and dark, lit only by the moon¡¯s feeble gaze. I trip over something hard, and land on the packed earth on my already bruised elbows. Damnit.

    As I dust myself off, a rumble escapes my stomach. That run drained me. And I didn¡¯t really get a chance to recoil during my sixteen hour self-loathing quarrels by the track. Screw it. I¡¯m used to hunger.

    I manage to figure out which tent is mine, and crawl inside. The daunting sea of darkness before me is a mesh of bodies, packed tightly in their sleeping bags. There is no way in hell I¡¯m going to get to my spot, nearly at the end of the tent, without stepping on somebody. Unless, of course, I¡¯m not on the ground.

    I feel the tent tarp above me, searching for anything I can hold, but all I manage to grasp is a sturdy cord, running along the length of the top. Won¡¯t hold me. Well I could just jump. Dumbass. Hell are you thinking? Screw it, I¡¯m jumping.

    I poise myself and run some genius calculations in my mind. I work out my trajectory, where my estimated landing target. I figure out how hard I need to launch myself, and how far back I can afford to move for a run up. Then, I decide that I¡¯m a dumbass, and fling myself as far as I can.

    ¡°Ow!¡± hisses somebody.

    Deqar. Phew.

    ¡°What the hell?¡± he calls, sitting up.

    I scramble into my sleeping bag before he can click on Cherthur¡¯s torch.

    ¡°Go to sleep, Deqar,¡± growls the unmistakably repulsive voice I know to be Ficlan¡¯s.

    ¡°Somebody just freaking kicked me!¡± Deqar protests.

    ¡°If you don¡¯t shut up right now, I¡¯m going to tear you into pieces and eat you.¡±

    I hear Deqar gulp, and hesitantly slump back into his sleeping bag.

    I consider apologizing to him, but then I realize that no matter how quiet I whisper, if he can hear me, so can others. I squeeze my eyes shut and begin to count how many times my stomach can rumble.

    Tomorrow is going to be an interesting day. I wonder what Blax will say.

    ~

    ¡°I should court marshal you, you know that?¡± Blax says, glaring at me with his icy blue eyes.

    I yawn, unintentionally, and pop up my collar to subdue the sun from turning my neck to the color of a lobster. I wonder if there are any lobsters left.

    ¡°What, do you have to say for yourself?¡± he demands.

    I nearly shrug but manage to stop myself. I think up half an excuse and am about to start rattling when he continues.

    ¡°You underperformed again in the course today, if you hadn¡¯t noticed. You dropped two positions. You¡¯re supposed to be improving, do you know what that means?¡±

    ¡°Well, I hadn¡¯t exactly eaten much-¡±

    His palm hits my cheek like a slab of concrete, spinning me into a face planting one-eighty. ¡°You will address me as sir, or sergeant? Do you understand?¡± he blares.

    ¡°Yes¡­ sarge,¡± I mumble, pushing myself up. He kicks my wrist from under me and I taste another mouthful of more parched than parchment soil.

    ¡°Stand up, twig. Prove to me that you¡¯re a valuable addition to our squad!¡±

    I grunt and eye him from my ground level view. ¡°Whatever you say, sarge.¡± I manage to nearly get to my knees before his foot slams into my back, pushing the wind from my bruised ribs. I almost cry out with pain but I restrain it to an agonized hiss.

    Half of the squad are crowded around us, jeering and drinking warm beer. I see Amethyst in the distance, breaking out god knows how many reps of crunches, uninterested in my humiliation.

    ¡°This is¡­ child abuse,¡± I groan, forcing myself onto my stomach and pushing myself up.

    I see the kick coming. A dirty shot, aimed right for my ribs, but I shove off the ground away, reducing the blow to a bearable nick, and use the momentum to roll up to my feet.

    Surprised murmurs and even a few gasps escape my audience. ¡°The street dog¡¯s not dead!¡± I hear somebody shout.

    Blax gazes at me with faint amusement in his eyes. ¡°A thief¡¯s move.¡±

    I shrug. ¡°That¡¯s what I am¡­ sarge.¡±

    He steps towards me, and suddenly throws a fairly predictable punch, but with such impeccable speed that in nearly knocks me cold. Luckily, not even impeccable speed is fast enough to catch me.

    I lean out of the way, and throw my strongest, pull body packed punch, right into the center of his chest. It¡¯s like punching a wooden post. I¡¯m too shocked at the pain in my wrist to see the next blow, hitting me just above my left jaw joint and sending me sprawling into the dirt.

    Pain spreads through my skull like a tsunami. Half an inch lower and he would¡¯ve discombobulated my jaw. Lucky me. An empty beer can bounces off my shoulder blade.

    ¡°Alright, strap,¡± Blax starts. ¡°I want you to crawl, with a proper army crawl, which I¡¯m sure you know how to do, from here around my buggy and back. Ok?¡±

    I¡¯m blinking to clear my blurry vision. The pain in my cheek and the pain in my ribs have joined forces. Screw pain, what has it ever done for me?

    I force myself onto my elbows and manage to make out the figure of the buggy in the near distance. That¡¯s going to take a damn long time.

    ¡°Well? What¡¯re you waiting for, get going,¡± Blax says.

    I hear sadistic laughter erupting around me as I begin to drag myself, army crawl style as specified, towards the buggy. Every time I pull myself forwards with my right arm, splintering pain shoots through my body. It feels like there¡¯s a nail in my rib, that¡¯s being twisted and dragged against the ground to the contortions of my body. My head hurts with the pain of twenty migraines every time it bobs, which is continuously.

    To make matters worse, half way there, the dry, compact earth switches to gravel. I¡¯m suddenly glad for the thick army trousers protecting my legs, and the black T-shirt protecting my torso. The damn bleating sun had me take off the jacket, and now all the flesh on my forearms is going to be torn off.

    By the time I get back to Blax, every movement of my right arm hurts, and the movement aggravated headache has been switched out for a permanent, throbbing pain, like a chisel being hammered into my cranium. I¡¯m parched, starved, probably overheating, and thin streams of blood trickle down my dirt caked forearms from the miniature puncture wounds.

    I¡¯m too exhausted and in too much pain to look up at Blax, so he drops down to my level. ¡°Good job, now do it nine more times.¡±

    ~

    ¡°Shit¡­shit ow! Ow bloody¡­ damn¡­ shit¡­ agh, no stop. Stop Deqar you have no idea what you¡¯re doing.¡± Even speaking hurts now.

    ¡°Sorry, mate,¡± Deqar says with a sheepish smile. ¡°Zorikan never taught me first aid.¡±

    ¡°Yeah just bring me some water would you?¡±The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    ¡°Wait, we have to get these bandages on or you¡¯re going to bleed out.¡±

    I sigh. ¡°Aren¡¯t we supposed to put alcohol or something? Fetch me a drink, yeah?¡±

    Deqar huffs in laughter.

    Then I see the colorful haired figure of Sekera standing a bit behind Deqar. I narrow my eyes.

    ¡°You¡¯ve got to get the dirt out of them before you do anything,¡± she calls, padding over to us.

    ¡°Huh?¡± Deqar asks, blankly.

    ¡°Hell do you know?¡± I ask, accusingly.

    ¡°Trust me, Dingo¡± she advocates. I¡¯m not sure if I like the nickname. ¡°I skateboard. Oh and plus I¡¯m in the army.¡±

    I use every shred of strength left in me to lift my arms and gaze at their bloody surfaces. Does look pretty dirty.

    ¡°Get a bucket of water?¡± she asks Deqar.

    He looks at her sophomorically.

    ¡°Please?¡± she adds.

    ¡°Never was able to resist politeness,¡± he mumbles, ambling off.

    ¡°Thank you!¡± she calls, then drops down beside me. ¡°May I?¡± she asks, reaching out to lift my arms. She hesitates. ¡°Or do you bite?¡±

    ¡°I bite. I bite as much as I bark. Maybe more.¡±

    She lifts up my arms and surveys them, then overviews my bloody chin. ¡°Blax can be a bit of a dick sometimes,¡± she comments.

    ¡°A bit? Sometimes?¡±

    ¡°Well, most of us just learn to suck up. You don¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t suck up. I wouldn¡¯t suck up to a god.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I can tell. Probably will get you killed one day,¡± she laughs. ¡°I respect that, though.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a first. I wouldn¡¯t describe myself as respectable,¡± I add.

    ¡°Neither would I,¡± she giggles. ¡°You ever watch that movie? The really old animation about the wild horse that was found by the cowboy, and then the cowboy was trying to break the horse? Like, mentally not physically, but he kept failing. Then this one native guy came up and tried to ride the horse, and instead of forcing the horse to do what he wanted, he let the horse do what it wanted and through that they developed a bond. He became the only person to ride the horse?¡±

    ¡°Um, no.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re kinda like that horse.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, except I would¡¯ve probably thrown off the native dude as well.¡±

    She laughs. A sweet, high toned giggle. ¡°I was implying that Blax is like that cowboy. He¡¯s going to try and break you best he can. Turn you into a machine. Like Lorick, or Amethyst, or Janns, or any of the others.¡±

    ¡°Has he broken you?¡± I ask.

    She smiles with her eyes, but not with her mouth. ¡°A horse doesn¡¯t need to be broken if it just lets you ride it.¡±

    That¡¯s¡­ actually not dumb.

    I¡¯m about to say something when Deqar returns. ¡°One, full bucket of sandy water, as requested. And a complementary, grimy washcloth on top.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re services are appreciated, you should expect a hefty tip on as you see yourself out,¡± Sekera says, continuing on the joke as she takes the bucket and cloth. She soaks it once, then starts to slide it over my wounds.

    It hurts, but like hunger, I¡¯m used to pain. This kind of pain, surface pain, is better than the aches, in my opinion. This pain is sharp, crisp and thrilling. I understand people who cut themselves. The damn tension aches are dull, throbbing, endless and excruciating.

    By the time she¡¯s down, the underside of my arms look like a fresh coat of watercolor red paint has coated them. She pulls a bottle from her pocket. ¡°Hundred percent, pure alcohol. You ready?¡±

    ¡°If you gave me some of that to drink, I might be,¡± I tell her.

    ¡°This would burn straight through your throat,¡± she responds, wetting the already very wet cloth. She slaps it onto me, less than gently.

    I clamp my mouth shut and clench my jaw. My legs twitch with pain and my breaths become forced. She begins to slide the clothe down the length of my forearm.

    ¡°Hey, didn¡¯t you always want a goatee?¡± Deqar blurts out, randomly.

    ¡°What the hell?¡± I say through gritted teeth.

    ¡°Yeah I¡¯m pretty sure you said something about that, a while back.¡±

    ¡°Deqar, when have I ever spoke to you for more than five minutes before we came here?¡±

    ¡°What, you guys aren¡¯t lovers?¡± Sekera pipes up.

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t your brother have a goatee? Oh that would be cool if you both had goatees,¡± he muses.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with you?¡±

    She moves to my other arm.

    ¡°You guys could be like the goatee bros, fighting crime with your goatees and all.¡±

    ¡°I would watch a movie like that,¡± Sekera adds.

    ¡°That doesn¡¯t even make any sense. And I am the crime.¡±

    ¡°Well my point is, the way you¡¯ve torn up your chin and all, makes you look like you have a goatee. A blood goatee. That could be cool¡­ it could be your signature style.¡±

    ¡°Just shut up,¡± I groan.

    ¡°You would be like one of those lunatic wannabe hipsters,¡± Sekera says, finishing up.

    ¡°You two are dumber than the stone I¡¯m going to jack off onto tomorrow.¡±

    ¡°Moving to the chin.¡±

    ¡°Hey, do me a favor? Just dripple a little bit of that into my mouth, let the rest fall down my lip and do it¡¯s job.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re an idiot, Dingo.¡±

    ¡°And you are an idiot¡¯s associate.¡±

    Sekera sighs and pours a miniscule amount onto my lip. Half of it falls into my mouth, the other half down my bloody chin. I¡¯m not sure which of them burnt more.

    Sekera slumps down on my left, and Deqar on my right. A gay, a lesbian and a dick. What a trio.

    ¡°So how did such a colorful character like you end up in this shithole?¡± Deqar asks.

    ¡°Well it¡¯s a funny story actually-¡±

    ¡°Sekeraaaa!¡± hollers Janns from across the camp.

    ¡°Whaaaat?¡± she hollers back.

    ¡°I can¡¯t find my toothbrush!¡±

    ¡°Hell are you asking me for?¡±

    ¡°Just get over here!¡±

    ¡°Ugh,¡± she moans. ¡°See you guys in a jiffy, need to sort out this idiot.¡± She jogs off.

    ¡°Well, just the two of us now,¡± Deqar sighs.

    ¡°If I could move, you would be alone.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s why I love you, my boy.¡±

    ¡°Oi.¡±

    I look to my right. It¡¯s too painful to turn my head. Lorick and Ficlan are headed our way.

    ¡°What d¡¯you want, twats?¡± I call.

    ¡°Not talking to you, Strap,¡± Ficlan hisses.

    ¡°Talking to your queer friend,¡± Lorick sneers.

    ¡°Afternoon ladies,¡± Deqar says, keeping his cool. ¡°What can I do for you?¡±

    Ficlan snorts, turns around and pulls his pants down. ¡°Want some ass?¡±

    I avert my eyes as Lorick howls with laughter.

    ¡°Oooh, sorry. You¡¯re not my type,¡± he responds.

    ¡°Would it turn you on if I rubbed my cock on you?¡± Lorick asks, laundering up close.

    Deqar scrambles to his feet, visibly uncomfortable.

    ¡°Hey cavemen,¡± I snide. ¡°D¡¯you guys know what year it is?¡±

    ¡°Buddy, you¡¯ve had enough for one day, I wouldn¡¯t push your luck,¡± Ficlan tells me.

    Deqar tries to slip away but Lorick grabs him by the wrist and yanks him back.

    ¡°You¡¯ve got no idea what I¡¯m capable of. Why don¡¯t you try me and find out,¡± I contest, managing to hold up one of my middle fingers.

    Lorick forces Deqar onto his knees and pushes his face to his crotch. Deqar tries to resist but receives a knee to the face. He sprawls onto the ground, but tries to scramble up and make a run for it when Ficlan scores a strong kick to his stomach.

    Lorick joins in, and the two start to kick him senseless.

    ¡°Bastards!¡± I holler, somehow finding the adrenaline supplemented strength in me to clamber to my unsteady feet.

    They leave Deqar crying out in pain for a moment and move to me. Shit, this is bad.

    I struggle to rotate on my feet, but manage to face Ficlan, my arms barely raised in front of me. ¡°Try me,¡± I snide.

    One solid punch to the face sends my straight into Lorick¡¯s arms. He literally lifts me off the ground, and like a sack of potatoes, hurls me as far as he can. And like a sack of potatoes and hit the ground.

    My grunt of pain is dwarfed by Deqar¡¯s cries. ¡°Stop! Sorry I¡¯m¡­¡± he tries, but is kicked in the mouth.

    ¡°Urghh. Dumbasses! Damn cavemen! Bastard twats, fight somebody your own size!¡± I holler, but it comes out like a gargled cough. I spit out a mouthful of blood that had gone from my nearly broken nose to lips. I need to get up. I need to stand.

    I try. I push myself, but I don¡¯t move. I can¡¯t. I¡¯m too tired, too injured and too starved.

    Then I see her figure, tearing towards me like an angel.

    ¡°What the hell happened, Kallix?¡± Sekera asks, skidding to a kneeling halt beside me.

    I manage one strangled word. ¡°Deqar.¡±

    ¡°What? What about him?¡± she asks.

    Another scream of pain rips through the dusty air. She¡¯s on her feet in an instant.

    ¡°Don¡¯t touch him!¡± she hollers.

    From the corner of my eye, I see Ficlan sizing her up. ¡°We aint got nothing on you, but don¡¯t intervene lesbo, unless you want special treatment as well.¡±

    She unholsters a gun from her side and shoots into the air. ¡°I said, don¡¯t touch him.¡±

    ¡°Woah, woah woah,¡± Ficlan stutters. Lorick looks up from his victim/

    ¡°Aw shit, Sekera it¡¯s just fun and games.¡±

    ¡°Fun? Fun and games?¡± she asks, incredulously. ¡°If you don¡¯t leave and shove your heads up your asses in less than three seconds, I¡¯ll pump your filthy bodies full of lead.¡±

    ¡°Aw Sekera, c¡¯mon. How long¡¯ve we known each other?¡± Ficlan asks. Lorick doesn¡¯t think twice, scampering away like the cowardly king-sized rat he is. The terror on his repulsively ugly face gives me shreds of happiness.

    Sekera¡¯s face is anything but forgiving. She points the gun at him.

    ¡°Woah, chill, sister. Look I¡¯m sorry, it aint going to happen again, alright? I¡¯m leaving.¡± Ficlan holds his hands up and backs away slowly.

    Sekera gives a small smile and says. ¡°Step on a wasp and another one will sting you.¡± She pulls the trigger.

    At first I think she¡¯s killed him, but I hear a hiss of pain. Ficlan¡¯s left hand snaps to his right upper arm. Blood quickly seeps out of the tear in his uniform. He stumbles away, cursing and hissing in his oddly deep voice.

    Sekera drops to Deqar. ¡°Are you alright? Can you breath?¡±

    I want to go to him, but when I stretch out my right arm to crawl, a stabbing pain shoots through my side.

    ¡°Deqar talk to me. Can you speak? What did they do?¡±

    By the time I manage to left-handedly drag myself into their vicinity, I wince. Both at the sight of Deqar and in pain.

    The poor bastard is lying on his side, head in Sekera¡¯s lap, shaking with sobs. His face is more bruise than face, both his eyes are heavily swollen and dark. His lip is split and his mouth is filled with blood that runs down his chin onto Sekera¡¯s thigh. I can¡¯t see his body beneath his uniform, but I can only imagine how it looks.

    ¡°Shhh,¡± Sekera soothes, stroking his mohawk delicately. ¡°It¡¯s ok, they¡¯re gone. It¡¯s over, you¡¯re safe. It¡¯s alright.¡±

    I don¡¯t think he can even speak, his tongue might be swollen huge, or maybe torn. Shit.

    Sekera shoots me a sorrowful look. She wants to help. She wants to help him and she wants to help me. I read the genuineness in her eyes. That¡¯s rare.

    ¡°It¡¯s not usually like this,¡± she continues. ¡°They¡¯re dicks, I know. We aren¡¯t all bad though, there are some nice ones here. You just need to¡­ you know¡­ hang out with the right people. It can be fun, if you look at it just right. Like one of those magic eye posters, you know? You just have to squint at it in the right way and then it makes sense. The grand scheme of things it all makes sense. Right? You have to squint. Can you do that?¡± she asks, her own eyes getting watery.

    Screw the damn pain. Screw my emotions. Nothing on the inside, nothing on the outside, remember? But these are friends. Maybe. I¡¯m not sure, but screw it.

    I crawl over to them and shift myself into a semi-upright position against a rock, sitting diagonal to her.

    Deqar leans away and retched up thick wads of blood. He recoils into her, like a child to their mother, and she pulls him close, one arm around him and the other stroking his hair. I wish I had somebody who would do that to me. I wish I had somebody who would hold me.

    What the hell? Pussy. Nothing on the damn inside, nothing on the goddamn outside, alright? You¡¯re a stone. A zombie. A lone wolf. A lone wolf can¡¯t afford to be sad or to break down because it had nobody to help it through the night. It needs to be strong. It needs to survive, above all else.

    That¡¯s what I¡¯m going to do. I¡¯m going to survive this shit, and get Deqar through it as well, because I may be a lone wolf, but I¡¯ve got friends. They may not be packmates, but they¡¯re friends, and I¡¯ll get us, me, Deqar and even Sekera through this shit alive. I swear it.

 2.4: Twinkling

    4

    ¡°Shhh. You make a sound and you will be shot. Is everybody clear? Once we round this rock, each of us is in danger of being sniped. If you do hear a gunshot, don¡¯t run, flatten yourself behind cover. Don¡¯t shoot back, just wait. If somebody is shot and not killed and it requires you to expose yourself to get them, you let them bleed out alright? Even if it¡¯s me. There¡¯s no heroism here, this is purely a briefing mission. I need all of you to know what your up against. Questions?¡± Blax looks us over, his eyes holding as much emotion as the ground beneath him.

    ¡°What if we see a shooter? ...sarge,¡± I ask. The movement of lifting my hand into the air is, after a week¡¯s time to heal, no longer a titanic effort.

    ¡°You get behind cover and get the information to the rest of us.¡±

    I nod.

    ¡°Alright, everybody follow me. Single file,¡± he orders, dropping into a crouch and commencing his army crawl.

    ¡°Have you seen this place yet?¡± I whisper over my shoulder to Sekera.

    ¡°Yeah, once,¡± she replies. ¡°When I first came, he showed it to us as well. Only he, Amethyst and Janns are allowed to scout it out though. He¡¯s planning an infiltration you know?¡±

    ¡°Infiltration? So, we¡¯re breaking into this place?¡±

    ¡°Pretty much. Break in and kill the commander.¡±

    ¡°How many men¡¯ve they got?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re not sure, but over twenty definitely. That¡¯s what we¡¯ve seen. Led by a bastard tyrant called General Korren.¡±

    ¡°Worse than Blax?¡±

    ¡°Probably.¡±

    We crawl in silence for a while, until the narrow, route through the rocks swings left, into an enclave, chiseled into the cliffside. Small mounds of rock have been stacked at the end, providing us with cover. On the other side of them, is a sheer hundred foot drop.

    I peer over, seeing a meager section of the river slugging along at the bottom. Across the ravine, is a small, spread out military base with several sections and erected buildings. Not tents. Buildings. Several buggies, rovers and quadbikes sit, lined up before one of the buildings. These guys are properly stocked.

    Blax whispers to Janns and Amethyst, who then crawl over to us. Deqar, Sekera, Cherthur and Horgan crowd around Janns, while the others go to Amethyst.

    ¡°Alright,¡± he starts, pushing his long strait hair from his face. ¡°Tomorrow, we¡¯re going in and we¡¯re taking that shit down, you with me? We¡¯re going to scale down our side of the ravine further away, cross the river and trek back up right under their noses. We¡¯ll climb up that side and get into the building. Once we¡¯re in, we¡¯ve got to stay unnoticed for as long as possible. We¡¯ll probably be in two teams, so you¡¯ll either be with me or Amethyst, just follow your leader and they¡¯ll explain what you¡¯ve got to do. If they die, your main goal should be to regroup with the others. We need to get in there and capture Korren. Alive preferably, but not necessarily. Take one last look, we¡¯re headed back.¡±

    I do. Anxiety ripples through me. There¡¯re around twelve of us and judging by how many vehicles are parked out there, there are probably over thirty of them. We¡¯re going to die. This is going to be just like the Raven¡¯s Nest, only I¡¯ve got no city to disappear into this time.

    We make the crawl back to camp and dust ourselves off.

    ¡°D¨¦j¨¤ vu,¡± Deqar mutters.

    Sekera shoots him a quizzical look.

    I snort.

    ¡°We tried to take out the Raven¡¯s Nest. You know the giant drug factory beneath East Side?¡±

    ¡°Uhhh,¡± Sekera says, bewildered. ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Well, there is one, and us and a couple others tried to take it out. Infiltrate it and blow it up from inside, just like this. I was part of the distraction team, so I never went in, but Kallix did. I still don¡¯t know what happened down there, but when I heard the shots I went to the entrance. He and a friend of ours ran out, said everybody else had been killed.¡±

    Sekera looks at me, shocked.

    I bite my lip. ¡°She wasn¡¯t a friend.¡±

    Deqar shrugs. ¡°Either way, it didn¡¯t go well. I lost a really good friend that night. His name was Varan, you would¡¯ve loved him.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t stress, this¡¯ll be better,¡± Sekera reassures. ¡°This time you¡¯ve got proper military aid with you. Real army guys, not petty thieves.¡±

    ¡°Swifter¡¯s aren¡¯t petty thieves,¡± Deqar rumbles.

    ¡°No it won¡¯t,¡± says somebody.

    We swivel to see Amethyst standing behind us, tall and chin up, with her hand on her glories hip.

    ¡°What?¡± Sekera asks.

    ¡°It won¡¯t be better. What Blax won¡¯t tell you is that we¡¯ve done it before.¡±

    ¡°I know. I was there,¡± Sekera mutters.

    ¡°What? This isn¡¯t the first infiltration?¡± I ask.

    Amethyst shakes her head. ¡°How do you think Viinyar died?¡±

    ¡°Shit,¡± I breathe.

    ¡°But still, we lost one man, it was our first try,¡± says Sekera.

    Amethyst shakes her head again. ¡°Not first. Third. That was our third try. You weren¡¯t here for the first two. Every time we try, lose a few people and retreat and recruit more. It¡¯s impossible, these guys are too heavily fortified.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve survived all three, haven¡¯t you?¡± I ask. ¡°If you¡¯ve survived it, then it isn¡¯t impossible.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t think you¡¯re anything near me, perv,¡± she says, coolly. ¡°You¡¯re a toddler in my game.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, yeah I know. But you, Blax and Janns have made it through all of them?¡±

    Amethyst¡¯s eyes dart to Blax. ¡°The sarge doesn¡¯t come.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± I ask, incredulous. ¡°What kind of a dick is this guy?¡±

    ¡°It would be a tactical mistake,¡± Amethyst reassures. ¡°If he were to die, then we¡¯d have no leader, and nobody to recruit new members. He¡¯s the backbone, heart and brain of this operation. We need him alive.¡±

    ¡°And¡­ and your fine with dying because of that?¡±

    ¡°No. I¡¯m fine with you dying because of that. I know I¡¯ll make it out alive, and recruit new members, then try it again.¡±

    ¡°Blax is literally the epitome of a dick,¡± I growl.

    Before I even finish speaking a hand has hit my throat, nearly hammering my adam¡¯s apple into my throat.

    ¡°That¡¯s Sergeant Blax to you,¡± Amethyst hisses.

    ¡°Hey,¡± Sekera and Deqar both intervene, laying their hands on her arm.

    She stands down, slowly.

    ¡°Amethyst,¡± Blax calls. ¡°You¡¯ve got Kallix, Sekera, Deqar and Ficlan. Janns you¡¯ve got Cherthur, Lorick, Weshleri and Horgan. The rest of you stay here with me.¡±

    I crack a smile. ¡°It seems fate has brought us together after all.¡±The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    ~

    ¡°Shit,¡± Deqar breaths, peering down the ravine side. We¡¯re over a mile away from our camp, but the rocky landscape hasn¡¯t changed, and the way down is just as perilous. ¡°That¡¯s far.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re being strapped in,¡± says Amethyst, tossing him a harness. ¡°Find something sturdy and hook yourself up.¡±

    She tosses me one. It hits me and falls to the ground.

    ¡°Excuse me?¡± she asks.

    ¡°I don¡¯t want one,¡± I respond.

    She shrugs. ¡°If you want to die sooner rather than later be my guest.¡±

    I watch as they clip themselves onto all the flanges and outcrops they can find. Screw that shit, hell do they think I am? I clamber over the edge and begin my descent. There¡¯re so many protrusions, crannies that I¡¯m able to move like a spider. It¡¯s not the window frames and concrete ledges that I¡¯m used to¡­ it¡¯s better.

    Sweat trickles down my face as I move and my ribs are starting to hurt again, but I don¡¯t give a flying fish face because nobody can tell me shit. I reach, drop, pull, slide and grip. The stone I grasp crumbles beneath my hand, but that¡¯s why I¡¯ve got another one. I swing to the left and catch a foothold, securing myself once again.

    And then all of a sudden there¡¯s nothing left to hold. As I lower myself down, my feet slide against smooth stone. I look down only to see that the ground is thirty  feet away from me. Maybe I can jump.

    ¡°Need a hand?¡± Sekera asks, practically walking down to me, the rope attached to her harness holding her steady.

    ¡°No,¡± I grunt. ¡°I just need to find my way.¡±

    I scuttle to the left, but the smoothness of the rock doesn¡¯t reduce. The river, during it¡¯s high time, must¡¯ve eroded it like a pebble. Not good. I watch in annoyance as the others bounce past me, and eventually unclip themselves at the bottom. Hell am I supposed to do now?

    I lower myself until it¡¯s only my hands above the threshold of smoothness, and search with every inch of my body for a lump, an enclave a crack or anything I can use to lower myself further, but there¡¯s nothing. It¡¯s like the surface of a plate.

    I nearly lose my grip when I notice Amethyst beside me, looking at me with interest. I gaze back at her, a painful expression on my face.

    ¡°I¡¯m not going to ask if you need help, but I will help you if you need it,¡± she tells me.

    Shift grip, easing my tiring fingers. ¡°Yeah.¡± I nod.

    ¡°Yeah?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    ¡°Yeah what?¡±

    ¡°Yes, I need it.¡±

    ¡°Need what?¡±

    ¡°Help.¡±

    ¡°What about it?¡±

    ¡°I need you to help me.¡±

    Amethyst smiles, a brain meltingly sexy smile, and makes her way over to me. ¡°Climb on she instructs.¡±

    I grip her shoulders and ease myself on behind her, low enough so that my bulge rests between nicely at her crack. Might as well enjoy the ride. I¡¯m losing myself in the heavenly softness when¡­

    ¡°Higher,¡± she instructs.

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Move higher.¡±

    Shit. I obey, sliding myself up her back and wrapping my arms around her chest, above her tits. She continues to lower us. Then, my damn dick of a dick decides to get hard.

    I can¡¯t move an inch. Shit. Shit. Shitityshitshit.

    There¡¯s no way she hasn¡¯t noticed, but she doesn¡¯t respond. Not sure if that¡¯s good or bad.

    Everybody is laughing by the time we reach the ground, and my face is flushed red with anger and embarrassment.

    ¡°Did the baby enjoy his ride?¡± Ficlan asks with a maniacal low giggle.

    Deqar stares at his feet and Sekera is clutching her stomach with laughter.

    ¡°Shut up, you idiots,¡± Amethyst hisses. ¡°If you keep laughing like damn hyenas, they¡¯ll drop a single grenade out the window and blow us into red paint.¡±

    An awkward silence blankets us as we fall into pace after her.

    Dumbass. Idiot. Pervert. Dumbass. Stupid piece of perverted dumbass shit. Idiot. Hell were you thinking? Goddamn sexual harasser! What the hell?

    We crunch against the ravine side for what feels like much less than a mile and stop directly under the base.

    You¡¯re going to die being known as a perverted idiot. How does that make you feel? Bad. Very bad. You¡¯re going to be pumped full of lead, just like you want to pump her full of jizz. Twat.

    ¡°Alright, we¡¯re going to need to shoot the grappling cords up now and get away from here as fast as possible. They¡¯ll probably hear the grappling hooks getting a grip and maybe take a look. If they don¡¯t see anything suspicious, we can come back tomorrow and resume. If they do, they¡¯ll send a team down and remove the grappling hooks. If we aren¡¯t hidden, far away, they¡¯ll kill us. Better to have grappling hooks removed than us all being killed,¡± Amethyst briefs. ¡°Once you get a hold, run. Quick and silent.¡±

    We pull out the grappling guns and take our shots. Several of them fall back down, but not mine. Mine hooks onto the edge of the base¡¯s fence and holds strong. I see Amethyst darting away and I scramble after her. She¡¯s faster. She¡¯s quieter. I¡¯m sturdier. The way she moves, vaults and jumps I can tell it¡¯s automized. She¡¯s good because of endless circuits on obstacle courses and routine movements. Sure she¡¯s got plenty of field experience, but it¡¯s granted her shot accuracy, catlike reflexes, lion conquering courage and many other skills, but parkour is the one thing I can¡¯t be beat at. Rieka, Zorikan, Amethyst¡­ none of them. This is my part of the world. My own little section that I am best and nobody can tell me otherwise.

    That is of course until I trip on a nearly invisible rock protrusion and fall flat on my face. I manage to turn it into a sloppy role and recover my speed, chasing after Amethyst. After a few moments, she slowed and veered left, into a low wide cave. I duck in after her.

    ¡°This is where¡¯re were staying?¡± I ask, clicking on the flashlight Sekera gave me.

    ¡°Yeah. Make yourself at home,¡± she responds, checking her gun magazine or something.

    I chew on my cheek and peer out the cave entrance when I see Sekera scramble inside, Ficlan just behind her.

    ¡°Where¡¯s Deqar?¡± I ask.

    Ficlan snorts and Sekera glances behind her nervously. I look at the two of them and then at Amethyst.

    Then I see him, hustling with an awkward limp into the cave. He looks at me for a brief instant then settles down. I instantly stare at Ficlan.

    ¡°Everything alright, Deqar?¡± Amethyst asks.

    He nods once.

    If I go to Ficlan now, he¡¯ll beat me to a pulp. If I¡¯m to survive this, I need to be as fit as possible. In this case, Deqar¡¯s feelings can wait.

    ¡°Hey Dingo,¡± Sekera calls.

    ¡°Yuh?¡±

    She rattles a little carboard box. ¡°I brought a card game, wanna play?¡±

    I¡¯m not sure what, but something flickers inside me. Never, since I was a kid, have I ever played a card game, let alone been invited to play a card game. This is¡­ weird. ¡°Um¡­ yeah.¡±

    ¡°Sweet,¡± she says, cheerily. ¡°C¡¯mon I¡¯ve got a great place to play, follow me. I¡¯d ask Deqar, but he doesn¡¯t really seem to be in the mood. C¡¯mon, let¡¯s go.¡±

    She intertwines her hand into mine and pulls me along. Damn these damn butterflies that keep turning my stomach into a house party, fluttering around like they own the place.

    ~

    ¡°Hahaha!¡± I laugh. ¡°Really?¡±

    ¡°I swear,¡± Sekera says an ear to ear grin on her face. ¡°That girl was bangass fine, and we were both drunk as hell so we were just twirling around the pole like it was our job. She had like whipped cream on her tits and then she let me eat it off. Man that night was good.¡±

    ¡°Damn hell man,¡± I laugh, my thumb stroking the back of her hand. She squeezes mine tighter. ¡°We¡¯ve got to get drunk together one day. I can only imagine the amount of insane shit we¡¯d do.¡±

    ¡°Hell, you¡¯d be frickin¡¯ leaping off rooftops and stuff, piss off some mega rich business man who would have his ninja body guards after you and you¡¯re just running for your damn life. Probably break a rib too.¡±

    ¡°Wow. You¡¯d be the one chasing them, I tell you. Screaming at them, probably flashing your tits, and you¡¯d likely have one mouthwateringly hot girl eating you out while you did it. They¡¯d be so hot that I¡¯d be pissed they were lesbian.¡±

    She erupts into laughter, rolling into me so her head is on my chest. ¡°What, like Amethyst?¡±

    ¡°You think she¡¯s hot?¡±

    ¡°Yeah of course she¡¯s freaking hot, look at her!¡± Sekera shrieks. We¡¯re so far away from the others that I¡¯m not even worried she¡¯ll hear. ¡°And I know you think she¡¯s hot too. You goddamn drool when you see her. I don¡¯t think you¡¯ve ever looked her in the eye.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not my fault she wears her top so low!¡± I protest.

    ¡°It¡¯s good that she¡¯s proud of herself,¡± Sekera adds. ¡°Even though she¡¯s a bit of a bitch sometimes.¡±

    ¡°Yeah. It¡¯s always like that isn¡¯t it? The hottest ones¡¯ve got the nastiest personalities.¡±

    ¡°And the ones with the best personalities?¡± she asks, looking up at me.

    ¡°Are lesbian,¡± I finish.

    She giggles hysterically into my chest. ¡°Ugh. I don¡¯t know how you ever cuddle with anyone, you¡¯re so damn bony,¡± she complains, sliding aside so her head is nearer to my shoulder.

    ¡°Most of the cuddling I do is with my dick. Not much of a cuddler.¡±

    ¡°Really? You don¡¯t like to cuddle? How can you not like to cuddle?¡±

    ¡°Well I¡¯ve never really¡­ had many people cuddle me, I guess. I mean look at me,¡± I say with a laugh.

    ¡°Aw, c¡¯mon. You¡¯re handsome.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯d¡¯you know?¡±

    Silence.

    I snort. ¡°This is so gay.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Us holding hands like this. And cuddling.¡±

    ¡°This isn¡¯t even proper cuddling.¡±

    Silence.

    And more silence.

    And even more silence.

    ¡°Kallix,¡± she says, softly yawning.

    ¡°Yeah?¡± I ask, my eyelids also getting droopy.

    ¡°You don¡¯t need to be so¡­ stone hearted all the time, you know that?¡±

    ¡°What do you mean stone hearted?¡± I ask.

    ¡°You know, sealed off from your emotions. Unwilling to be kind. It¡¯s like you don¡¯t want to appear friendly. Like you want people to see you as stoic, unpredictable, jagged and unapproachable.¡±

    I swallow. ¡°I don¡¯t want people to see me like that. It¡¯s who I am. I wouldn¡¯t want anybody to see me for something I¡¯m not.¡±

    ¡°But that¡¯s the thing. You¡¯re sweet, you¡¯re kind, your soft and your loving. It¡¯s just that that part of you has been buried under so many layers of stones that it can¡¯t come out anymore. It¡¯s ok. Around me, you can let it go out. I don¡¯t want you to be reserved and try and keep your cold reputation up.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not. I¡¯m not doing that.¡±

    Sekera sighs. ¡°Alright. You know yourself better than I do anyway,¡± she lays her head back on me and nestles in under my arm.

    Her words have affected me and I¡¯m not sure in what way. My eyes dart around the utter darkness and I¡¯m suddenly hyper aware of her heartbeat, and her head rising and falling with my breathing. She¡¯s¡­ done something to me? No, not the right word. She¡¯s changed me? Not right either. She¡¯s conjured something? Stirred something? Ignited something? Made something flicker?

    I can¡¯t put it into words or even into thoughts what this girl has just done, but it sets me on edge. For a moment I feel like a foreigner inside my own body. Like somebody who woke up in someone else¡¯s life but with all of that person¡¯s memories, though they knew that they weren¡¯t them.

    But then the edginess starts to ebb as it¡¯s slowly covered by a soft, subtle, forgiving warmth. The warmth of a veteran sleeping in his own bed for the first time in two years, knowing, though able to believe that he¡¯s safe. Finally safe at last. The war is over and is family aren¡¯t going to die.

    Lying on the dirty cave floor, with this colorful haired girl curled up beside me the night before I go on a suicide mission, I feel safer and more at ease than anything I can remember. I would imagine that it¡¯s the feeling that a teenager of my age would have if they¡¯ve gone off on a trip, a long trip, by themselves and finally gotten back to their home, with their parents and siblings and all their stuff. But I¡¯ve never felt that, so I can only assume.

 2.5: Infiltration Number 2

    5

    I awake when Sekera stirs.

    ¡°You alright?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± she groans. ¡°I was just thinking. We¡¯re probably going to die tomorrow, right?¡±

    ¡°Right.¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± she lays her head back on me.

    ¡°That¡¯s it?¡±

    ¡°Pretty much.¡±

    ¡°Thanks, now I have to piss.¡±

    ¡°How was that my fault?¡±

    I sit up, and she slides off me. I clamber to my feet, tasting the stuffy cave air.

    ¡°Don¡¯t piss on me,¡± she mutters.

    ¡°What the hell?¡±

    ¡°Just saying.¡±

    I laugh and start walking. I pass Ficlan, who¡¯s snoring heavily on his side, but don¡¯t see Amethyst or Deqar. I reach the end of the cave and relish as the fresh air hits me. I unzip, which is an incredibly unnecessarily difficult process in the heavy military clothes and relieve myself. I tilt my head up, enjoying the sliver of sky I can see. Tons of stars speckle the inky blackness. I imagine being above, maybe reclining on a dune with Sekera, stargazing and discovering our own constellations because we don¡¯t know any.

    I finish, zip myself back up and start to walk back to the cave. Then I see Amethyst sitting almost like a vulture atop a rock. Her eyes are set directly on me, like a lion¡¯s on its prey.

    I swallow uncomfortably and walk towards her. She doesn¡¯t look disgusted, nor angry, nor interested. All I see in her mysterious, almond shaped hazel eyes are calculations. That¡¯s what she¡¯s doing. She¡¯s calculating something. Always calculating something. What it is, I¡¯ve got no idea.

    I pad over to her and seat myself next to her. For a while, neither of us says anything.

    ¡°Why are you here?¡± she asks.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, d¡¯you want me to leave?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t say that.¡±

    ¡°I¡­ couldn¡¯t sleep,¡± I lie.

    She looks at me, ever calculating. ¡°Me neither. I can¡¯t sleep often. They say that if being in the military teaches you one thing, it¡¯s how to sleep. Didn¡¯t really work for me though.¡±

    ¡°On the streets, probably like in the military, you learn to sleep in the most ungodly places. But you never really learn how to just sleep. If that makes any sense.¡±

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°Yeah I figured.¡±

    Amethyst shifts her position. At first I think she¡¯s moving slightly away from me, and then I realize that she hasn¡¯t. That¡¯s not a sign, though. I¡¯m sure of it.

    ¡°How long¡¯ve you been here? With Blax?¡±

    ¡°Two years, nine months, fourteen days.¡±

    ¡°Shit, that¡¯s a long time.¡±

    She shrugs. ¡°I¡¯m good at it, so I enjoy it.¡±

    ¡°Being good at something doesn¡¯t mean you enjoy it.¡±

    ¡°True. But¡­ it¡¯s all I¡¯ve really got.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t understand.¡±

    I laugh. ¡°Every single person I¡¯ve known for the past five years hates my guts. All of West Side wants to punch me in the mouth.¡±

    ¡°You lost your parents?¡± she asks suddenly.

    ¡°Well¡­ yes.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re dead?¡±

    ¡°No. Addicts. Bansilin addicts. I ran away from them when I was twelve. I couldn¡¯t deal with it.¡±

    ¡°Just because they¡¯re addicts doesn¡¯t mean the don¡¯t love you. They still care about you. They¡¯re probably worried about you.¡±

    ¡°What about your parents?¡± I ask, wanting to get the subject off me.

    ¡°I don¡¯t remember them. Last I saw them, I must¡¯ve been younger than five.¡±

    ¡°Oh shit, what happened?¡±

    ¡°A school. A school for prodigies took me, full time. They said that parents were a distraction. I was raised by teachers. Barely got to talk to the other kids either.¡±

    ¡°Damn, that¡¯s awful.¡±

    ¡°True. It was my life. I poured every inch of my soul into succeeding. Then one day one of the other guys, a real bully he was, tried to beat me up or something like that. It was some dumb thing, I don¡¯t know. Long story short I nearly killed him and got expelled. I didn¡¯t know who my parents were, let alone where they were, so I was just on my own for a while until I was found by one of my teachers. She explained how I needed to make a future for myself and how I learn discipline. That stuck with me. I found a training program, not really knowing how military affiliated it was, and enrolled. I got a scholarship and went with it. Good chunk of my life was doing that, and then I went in search of a real challenge, to put my training to a test. Found this. Blax gave me something nobody else could. Blax gave me something to live for. He gave me a new life. I¡¯ll defend him until death because of that.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t have to,¡± I say after a moment. ¡°You don¡¯t have to stay with him because of this. You could, and probably will get killed doing this.¡±

    ¡°Oh yeah? What do you propose?¡±Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    ¡°We could¡­ run away. I¡¯m going to run away. I know I will, but I¡¯ve got to figure out where to go first. You could come with me. The streets are way more fun than some boring ass school! You¡¯ll learn the ways of the road! It would be awesome, I swear it! We could go to parties, I could teach you parkour, we could screw with the rich kids, we could-¡±

    ¡°Have sex?¡± she cuts me off, staring me directly in the eye. A hint of a smile crosses her face.

    ¡°Um, yeah, if you want to. We could have sex. We could definitely have sex,¡± I say, leaning in closer to her.

    ¡°Are you any good though? I wouldn¡¯t imagine so,¡± she leans closer to me.

    ¡°Why don¡¯t you let me show you?¡± I tell her, with my trademark lopsided smile. My heart is racing, my brain is doing backflips, and the butterflies are turning up in my stomach, but this is the moment. It¡¯s finally arrived.

    I lean in, close my eyes and purse my lips, ready to feel her soft warmth on me, when strong hands suddenly grip my shoulders. Her mouth is a thin line, and her eyes are fiery. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean it like that,¡± she says through gritted teeth.

    ¡°Uh¡­ oh.¡± I breath, swiftly pulling away. Shit you goddamn idiot what the hell were you thinking!!!

    ¡°Yeah, maybe you should catch some sleep. You¡¯re going to need energy tomorrow,¡± she tells me, staring at the ground.

    I close my eyes and cringe at my failure and slide off the rock. I slink back into the cave, defeated. Honestly though, what the hell? She made it look so plausible! What¡¯s wrong with this bitch! I could¡¯ve sworn that it would work. Damnit. God freaking damnit.

    I nearly trip over Ficlan and make it back to the little dip me and Sekera were nestled in, when I hear sobs. I quickly click on my torch to see what¡¯s going on.

    Before me, Sekera¡¯s sitting up with Deqar sprawled into her, crying into her shoulder, his arms wrapped tightly around her.

    What the hell have I done?

    ~

    I grunt as I haul myself over the edge, pressing my back to the rock. Anxiety ripples through my body as I think of all the ways I could be killed. Amethyst makes it up next, crouching and checking her assault rifle one last time. Ficlan and Sekera make it up afterwards, and then Deqar comes a moment later. His eyes are red rimmed and have heavy shadows beneath them. He scuttles to the wall chest heaving and pulls out his pistol.

    Amethyst glares at me until I do the same. ¡°Where¡¯s Janns?¡± I ask.

    She jerks her head to the left. ¡°Other side.¡±

    She takes a deep breath, then holds up three fingers.

    Two.

    One.

    Go time.

    She with wire cutters, carving a hole barely big enough to crawl through. Once she¡¯s done, she sets them behind the rock and leads us into enemy territory. I chew my lip with angst as Ficlan follows her, then Sekera. In the moonlight I can¡¯t see Deqar¡¯s face, but his body is hunched and faintly shaking.

    I crawl in after the, keeping my finger well away from the trigger.

    The distance is longer than I anticipated and the hulking buildings stand like a pack of some automated shadowy killers, looming around me with drooling maws.

    I get to my feet and push my back against the wall of the first building we reach and submerge myself in the darkness. The darkness is a shield. The darkness is what keeps me safe.

    A light flickers on making my skeleton leap within my skin. A small, rectangular window, directly above my head is illuminated with stark, white light. Shit, they¡¯ve heard us. Amethyst presses her ear to the wall so I imitate her.

    ¡°Did you hear something?¡±

    ¡°What? Turn the damn lights off. It¡¯s¡­ three in the damn morning.¡±

    ¡°I could¡¯ve sworn I heard something. Just check the cams.¡±

    ¡°My god, fine¡­. Look, there¡¯s nothing there. Go to sleep now?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll check outside.¡±

    ¡°Ugh, you idiot. Korren said if we¡¯re dreary during training he¡¯ll dock our pay.¡±

    ¡°Korren also said we¡¯re supposed to be awake during the nights, sleep during the days.¡±

    ¡°Fine. You do you.¡±

    ¡°Damnit fine I¡¯ll sleep.¡±

    The lights flicked off.

    Amethyst nodded at me to keep watch on the left, and Sekera on the right while she pulled something from her backpack. I hustled to the left, dropped to one knee and held my pistol with outstretched arms. The stock of my gun is cold in my clammy hands. I feel the tickle of a cough in my throat and curse at myself until it shies away.

    The scatter of buildings sprawls before me, with a clearing that holds a single streetlight type thing and a puddle of white light before it. Gnats and midgets flick around beneath it, starving addicts to a love they can never attain, but will relentlessly chase. But rather than provide a source of light in my mind, this beam amplifies the shadows around it, turning them into gnarly, gangly, shrouded monsters. In my mind, flashes of crooked teeth and glowing eyes flicker within them. Disgusting, horrid, bloodthirsty monsters that would welcome me with open arms and provide me with a place to hide from the true monsters that surround me.

    ¡°Hey Dingo,¡± Sekera hisses. ¡°C¡¯mon.¡±

    I turn back to see Deqar pulling himself through a perfect hole in the window. Ficlan and Amethyst are already inside. As I¡¯m pulling myself in I hear the sounds of a quick struggle. Not even a cry of help escapes the room. I drop into the room, silent as a cat. Sekera drops down behind me.

    Amethyst clicks on her flashlight and is about to say something when a strangled scream screeches through the camp. Gunfire follows quickly.

    ¡°Shit!¡± she hisses. ¡°Janns¡¯s been spotted. We need to move fast.¡± She removes the safety from her assault rifle and barrels out of the door. Not knowing what else to do, I charge after her.

    Amethyst lunges and knocks of unsuspecting soldier behind the ear with the bud of her gun, crippling him to the ground. I see somebody getting a face full of bullets beneath the light, not sure who they are.

    Amethyst drops into a roll as a spray of bullets go straight over her, she slides into cover behind another building. Except I can¡¯t do that. I catch sight of Ficlan, right next to me, taking off back the way we came. I follow him, quickly overtaking him and literally diving through the hole in the fence and tumble a few feet. A bullet whizzes directly over my head as I don¡¯t waste a second, clipping myself into the harness without losing my momentum and literally flinging myself off the edge of the ravine. I¡¯m sure I¡¯m going to be shot, but I fly through the air, swinging back to the enemy side and smashing into the rocky surface, ten feet beneath the edge.

    Bullets and screams fill my ears. Ficlan comes smashing down next to me, also clipped in.

    ¡°Damn shit, we got to go down!¡± he hollers, lowering himself a few feet.

    I¡¯m about to imitate him when I see ten plus men at the bottom of the ravine, lights shining from their assault rifles.

    ¡°No, Ficlan look!¡± I hiss.

    He sees them and scrabbles back. As one of their lights dances close to us, I know it¡¯s over.

    I pull the rope and without any regard for stealth the two of us scramble as fast as we can back over the edge. I roll onto solid land as a spray of bullets decimate the rock. Ficlan grunts and rolls beside me.

    ¡°Damn!¡± he hisses. ¡°I¡¯m shot.¡±

    ¡°Over there!¡± somebody calls. Lights blind me.

    I dive behind the rock Amethyst had been next to earlier as gunshots rip through the air and the fence. I see Ficlan flatten himself to the ground as bullets ricochet over him. Bullets chip the rock, reducing my cover space increasingly as I press myself further and further into the ground.

    There are worse ways to go out, honestly.

    Trapped between a stream of bullets from the ravine, and a stream from before me, I know its over.

    That is until I hear a grunt, a snap and a thud. I swivel, gun pointed forwards, but I see only Amethyst and three downed bodies. Her neck is pressed to the third as she blows the top of his skull off.

    I glide through the hole and make for her. She turns around surprised, barrel pointed at me, but her finger doesn¡¯t reach the trigger. I pass her, slamming my back against the building an overflow of adrenaline coursing through my veins.

    She makes for Ficlan, helping him through the hole and slinging his arm over her back. Together, painstakingly slow, they reach me. Not wasting a moment, Amethyst opens her med kit, wrapping a gauze around Ficlan¡¯s leg thigh.

    ¡°Did it hit the bone?¡± she asks.

    He shakes his head, too in pain to speak.

    ¡°Ok, listen. Here¡¯s what I¡¯m going to need you to do, ok?¡± Amethyst starts.

    Before she can finish, a light hits us. It¡¯s less than a second before I¡¯ve swung myself towards the cut open window. From the corner of my eyes, I see over ten bullets rip through Ficlan¡¯s chest.

    I hit the ground, shoulder first and tumble into a roller chair. Amethyst lands practically on top of me, unintentionally kneeing me in the chest as she darts to her feet.

    ¡°They went in there!¡±

    I scramble to my feet, looking wildly around the room. Back door. I lunge for it, and pull, but it¡¯s locked. Shit.

    ¡°Get your gun out, crouch behind the monitor. As soon as they get through you shoot them dead,¡± Amethys orders, on one knee behind a metal desk. The barrel of her assault rifle rests atop the edge, pointed at the door. I mimic her pose with my handgun.

    I don¡¯t know how to shoot. We¡¯re trapped. We¡¯re freaking dead.

    The door flies open.

    Then men pour in.

    The gunshots start.

 2.6 Inevitable

    6

    I fire two shots before I realize that my eyes are closed, and the gun has nearly slipped from my hands. I open them and see the magnificent, gunfire illuminated scene of Amethyst gunning down three of them, body checking the third, breaking his jaw, sweeping his legs from beneath him and snapping his neck.

    I¡¯m frozen in trauma as she pushes past me, shoots out the lock on the door grabs my hand and drags me out.

    Brief gunfire flashes through the sky accompanied by shouts, orders and strangled cries. I blindly follow Amethyst, my gun held loosely on my hands. Our backs slam against the wall of a tall, black walled building. I see a figure sprinting through the dark passage behind the sole light, only to get gunned down mid-step.

    Amethyst beckons me to follow her to the door. She turns the nob, and to my relief it opens. Bullets fly out the door, slicing off one of her braids as she rolls out of the way. Even Amethyst, stone hearted, experience blooded Amethyst has terror in her eyes as she scrambles to the wall next to me.

    Thud. Gunshots. Clang. Sizzle. Gunshots.

    People are fighting in there. Amethyst must¡¯ve noticed it too because she¡¯s peering back inside. I do the same.

    Three men in blue uniforms, unlike our beige ones, take cover behind piled work benches. One of them is on one knee, shooting through a gap in their makeshift wall, one is standing, shooting over, and one is lying down, shooting under. Across the room, figures we can¡¯t see are shooting back. This must be Janns¡¯s group.

    Amethyst pulls out her magazine, tosses it away and shoves a new one again. She gives me a look that I don¡¯t exactly understand before stepping right into the room. By the time I¡¯m in beside her, my eardrum¡¯s have nearly burst and there are three blue uniformed men lying in bleeding puddles on the ground.

    ¡°Blax¡¯s squadron!¡± Amethyst hollers, holding her hands in the air.

    I barely hear her.

    ¡°Thank god,¡± comes a relieved sigh.

    Janns, Cherthur, Horgan, Lorick and Deqar appear from behind my stacked apparatus.

    ¡°Sekera?¡± I ask.

    Deqar shakes his head. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I haven¡¯t seen her since we were split up. I thought she was with you guys.¡±

    Shit. No, no damn way. Sekera cannot be dead. She is not dead. She can¡¯t¡­ die. Please. No please, not like this.

    ¡°Weshleri?¡± Amethyst asks.

    Janns grimaces. ¡°Dead. Ficlan?¡±

    Amethyst shakes her head. ¡°Him too.¡±

    Lorick¡¯s jaw goes slack. He blinks and his lips move like he¡¯s about to say something, but no words come out. I feel no pity, but the scene of his burly body wreathing with bullets makes me shiver. There¡¯s a red streak on my left trouser. It¡¯s still wet.

    ¡°We¡¯ve got to head back,¡± Janns says, reloading his gun.

    Amethyst nods in agreement. ¡°Soon. It¡¯s only a matter of time before they come barging in here.¡±

    ¡°Alright, no wounds, right? Ok, let¡¯s go.¡± He makes for the door.

    ¡°Wait,¡± I call.

    Janns and Amethyst both glance back at me.

    ¡°We can¡¯t go back.¡±

    ¡°And¡­ why¡¯s that?¡± Janns asks.

    ¡°They¡¯ve got men in the ravine. I already tried,¡± I confess, shamefully. ¡°Over fifteen at our grapples, waiting for us to come down. They¡¯ll bide their time till we¡¯re halfway, then mow us down in a single clip.¡±

    Janns looks at me blankly. ¡°You¡¯re serious?¡±

    ¡°Of course, he¡¯s freaking serious,¡± Amethyst hisses. ¡°C¡¯mon, we can¡¯t turn back. She storms off towards the only other exit. A dimly lit entirely metal hall. I instinctively jog after her.

    The others look at Janns hesitantly, but he soon follows, moving like a wildebeest into a crocodile infested river.

    The hall is lined with doors, reminding my instantly of the experiment room in the Raven¡¯s Nest. Amethyst and I are ten meters ahead of the others by the time they even enter the hall. We break into a run, my anxiety to get as far away from the exit as possible, when the world goes into slow motion.

    I hear it before anybody else. A hungry whir, like a jet engine mixed with a machine gun, followed by the clack of the door hitting the window. From over my shoulder I see the incredibly massive multi-barrel gun, like a machine gun turret on wheels. We¡¯re trapped, like targets in an enclosed shooting range.

    Amethyst and I react at the exact same moment, launching ourselves into the nearest door. By sheer luck, as the bullets begin to fly, her elbow pushes open the door handle and we tumble inside. It¡¯s deafening, like the roar of a mechanical dragon. I scramble off her and glance out the door.

    A body with grey hair and wrinkled skin, undoubtably Horgan, slides past us leaving a wide streak of red on the metal floor.

    Screams, cries, hollers¡­ we run. I run like I¡¯ve never run before, charging down the metal grate spiral staircase and into another hall. I fling open the first door I see leading me to a bunk. I reach a door but it¡¯s locked, so I shoot through a blacked out window and wiggle through. I barrel down a white hall when I reach an elevator. I slam the button and slide inside as soon as the doors open.

    For the first time, as I wait for the doors to close, I look back. Amethyst careens into the hall and sprints faster than a tidal wave, diving into the elevator before it closes. She lies, a panting heap next to me.

    ¡°Shit. Shit. Shit!¡± she hisses, hammering her fist into her knee.

    ¡°What? Were you shot?¡±

    ¡°My gun! My damn gun!¡± she exclaims.

    I look for her gun to see what¡¯s wrong, only to realize that there is none. ¡°We¡¯re¡­ screwed.¡±

    She snatched the pistol from me, which I¡¯m surprised to see I still have, along with my last clip and reloads it. The doors slide open and she aims out, but rather than another hall, we¡¯re in large, low roofed vehicle hanger. She shoots the elevator¡¯s control pad and ushers me outside. We duck down behind the nearest tank.

    Casual, relaxed muttering echoes through the room. It¡¯s hard to tell how many of them there are. We peer around the tank, seeing three men playing cards on the hood of a rover, and several more milling around behind them. A couple have their heads craned to see what the gunshot was.

    ¡°Eh, Lars, could you check at the elevator? Heard something.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, yeah. One second.¡±

    Somebody starts to walk our way. As I expect, as soon as he passes us, Amethyst rams the stock of the pistol into his temple and silently snaps his neck. ¡°C¡¯mon,¡± she whispers, darting from the tank to some other sort of missile backed truck. I follow.

    Somebody yelps as the see us, and Amethyst quickly shoots him in the face. The body drops before us.

    ¡°Holy shit, we got some intruders!¡±

    ¡°Everybody split up, let¡¯s find these little shits.¡±

    ¡°Damnit,¡± Amethyst curses.

    We slide under the rover as a pair of them shuffle past us and pull ourselves out the other side.

    ¡°We¡¯re screwed. We¡¯re dead god damn meat,¡± I panic.

    Amethyst doesn¡¯t respond but notices another one cross our path. She spin kicks him in the jaw, turning his shout into a weakened huff as he collapses to the ground. She drags him under the rover, grabs my arm and leads me to the next aisle of vehicles.

    ¡°We can¡¯t keep this up. We need to get out of here,¡± I urge.

    ¡°I know that,¡± she hisses.

    ¡°Oi! You say something, Hansen?¡±

    ¡°Naw, but I heard something.¡±

    I look under the truck and see legs shuffling slowly. I look at Amethyst, who¡¯s face tells me she¡¯s seen more on the other side. They¡¯re coming from both sides.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    She literally shoves me to the door of the truck and motions for me to stay still. She moves back to the front, where the first guy rounds at the same time as the second, at the rear. She leaps into the air, landing a solid kick to the man¡¯s neck, twists and shoots the other in the forehead.

    The first man¡¯s cry, combined with the gunshot and the brief moment of her upper body is enough to start a string of hollers.

    ¡°There they are!¡±

    ¡°Those bastards!¡±

    ¡°We got ¡®em now!¡±

    I take off, sprinting as fast as I can. One of them springs out at me, forcing me into a roll to make it under his grasp. Another one chucks a wrench at me as I slide over the hood of a rover. Somebody launches themselves at me as I box jump onto the mirror of a truck and scamper to the roof. Two others wait for me to come down on the other side, so I leap over them barely reached the next truck. I hear two gunshots in rapid succession. Amethyst.

    I slide down the windscreen and use the hood as leverage to jump over an assaulter, landing with a perfect roll, sliding under a huge wheeled car and scramble to my feet. I bullet around the next tank only to see nearly crash into Amethyst. She¡¯s standing still, gun in her outstretched arms with a full semi-circle of the mechanics or whatever around her, holding various tools.

    ¡°Hey now, nobody else needs to be shot,¡± says one with a thick, handlebar mustache.

    ¡°Get back,¡± she hollers, jerking the gun in her hands.

    The mechanics that had been chasing me creep up behind us, so I pull her by the arm and we scamper up the tank. We¡¯re completely surrounded.

    ¡°If any of you move any closer, I will shoot you. Move back!¡± she orders.

    I gauge the jumping distance. No way I¡¯ll make it. They¡¯ll grab me by the legs. Even if I do, the roll will be difficult to perfect, and I¡¯ll probably sprain an ankle or bruise my shoulder. She edges closer to me.

    ¡°Hey now. Drop the gun and everything¡¯s gonna be fine,¡± he continues.

    ¡°Get¡­ back!¡±

    ¡°When¡¯re the guns getting here?¡± whispers one of them.

    ¡°Less than a minute,¡± another replies, glancing at a device in his hands.

    Amethyst must¡¯ve heard it too because she flinches. ¡°You¡¯ve got three seconds,¡± she says, aiming the gun at handlebar mustache guy.

    ¡°Hey, hey now, let¡¯s talk this out.¡± He¡¯s trying to stall.

    ¡°Three.¡±

    ¡°If you drop the gun, maybe we can get some proper negotiations in.¡±

    ¡°Two.¡±

    ¡°If you shoot we will most definitely kill you,¡± he says with a sick smile.

    ¡°One.¡±

    She pulls the trigger. No gunshot comes. She pulls it again, but only the click of an empty clip is heard.

    ¡°Shit.¡±

    All of the dive forwards, scrabbling to get up the tank to us.

    Thinking quickly, I notice the top hatch, pull it open and drop inside. Amethyst follows, pulling it shut just before one of them reaches us. She spins the wheel on the roof, locking it.

    I pant with anxiety and sit up, scooting the wall.

    Amethyst¡¯s hands fall to her sides and she doesn¡¯t breathe. Her eyes are stunned and her mouth is open. We can hear clanging on the roof of the mechanics and their tools, ready to clobber us to a pulp.

    ¡°Th-the-uh-the-ta-tank!¡± I stutter. ¡°We¡¯re in a tank, so let¡¯s blow them up!¡±

    Amethyst nods, catching on. She moves to the control panel looking over the buttons. I peer over her shoulder expectantly. She reaches for a lever and yanks it down. Nothing happens. She tries again. Nothing.

    ¡°What? What is it?¡± I ask.

    She says nothing, panic visibly rising up within her. She reaches over and hammers a button, but there¡¯s no response.

    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± I demand.

    She stands up, pushes past me and moves to the back of the tank, pulling down a lever from the wall. A dim light flickers on above us. ¡°Ok, we¡¯ve got power.¡±

    ¡°D¡¯you know how to use this thing?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, but it¡¯s not working,¡± she replies through gritted teeth, checking a container within the wall. She moves back to the control panel, turning dials, pulling levers and pressing buttons, but nothing¡¯s working. ¡°No!¡± she cries, exasperated, slamming her fists down.

    ¡°Hey, hey, it¡¯s ok,¡± I say in a feeble attempt to calm her down.

    She leans forwards, pinching the bridge of her nose. I move to lay a hand on her shoulder, but as soon as I make contact she jolts, pushing the chair away and dropping down beneath the panel. She looks over something I can¡¯t see, then turns to me. ¡°Screwdriver,¡± she says.

    ¡°Uhhh,¡± I reply, turning and glancing around the interior of the tank. The two of us rummage through every possible thing that can be rummaged through, until we eventually slump against the wall. ¡°So¡­ we¡¯re screwed?¡± I ask over the clanging.

    She chews on her lip for a moment, then stands up, strides to a corner and yanks a thin, short metal pole from some contraption on the wall. She picks up and empty assault rifle and rams the butt of the gun down onto the end of the pole. She repeats the process a few times until she¡¯s got a semi flat surface. She crouches back down and lodges it into the screw and starts to twist. It slips out constantly, so I imitate her process and make the same makeshift screwdriver and set to work. After a few minutes of slips and re-flattening we manage to pry the panel open, revealing a set of wires.

    I manage to find a torch and illuminate the mess of cables for her. I wince as she fiddles with the wires, finds a specific one and tries to cut it.

    ¡°Shit!¡± she hisses, recoiling as sparks fly. She shakes her hand in pain and frustration, then get¡¯s right back to it.

    My eyes are wandering around the tank when I hear another zap, and see Amethyst clutching her hand to her chest and breathing raggedly through her teeth.

    ¡°Amethyst¡­ this isn¡¯t working. You¡¯re just hurting yourself.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± she grits. ¡°This¡­ it has to. Damnit why the hell isn¡¯t this working? We have god damn power! Why isn¡¯t it starting?¡±

    The clanging has been replaced by occasional gunshots and what I hope isn¡¯t a blowtorch.

    She gets to her knees and bends over to try again, but I lay a hand on her shoulder. This time, she doesn¡¯t flinch. ¡°It¡¯s over,¡± I mutter.

    She sniffs, and slumps down, across from me with a heavy sigh. ¡°So that¡¯s it?¡± she asks. ¡°This is how I die? Trapped in a damn tank, surrounded by enemy soldiers with a¡­ you¡­ to keep my company?¡±

    I shrug. ¡°Pretty badass way to go. I guess.¡±

    We both fall into silence, absorbing the racket around us.

    ¡°How long do you reckon it will take?¡± I ask her eventually.

    She shrugs. ¡°Who knows. I¡¯ve got no idea what equipment they have.¡±

    ¡°Why don¡¯t they just tape a grenade to the hatch?¡±

    ¡°If this tank blows up, it¡¯ll trigger a chain reaction and blow up every other vehicle in here. We¡¯re not worth that.¡±

    I sigh, shifting my position. ¡°So, we might be here for a while, huh?¡±

    ¡°No. Thirty minutes tops.¡±

    ¡°Huh. Are you¡­ are you going to pray? You a believer?¡±

    She looks me in the eye. Despite what we¡¯ve gone through together, I still feel tingly when she does. ¡°I believe in myself. I believe that everything that I¡¯ve done, everything I¡¯ve accomplished, was my own doing. Not somebody else¡¯s. Nobody else takes credit for the things I worked my ass of to do. Guess that was a failed belief though,¡± she says with a half-hearted laugh.

    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m not much of a believer either. I think that if there is a pure, divine being, it¡¯s down here on earth. Or at least it was.¡±

    ¡°Like what?¡±

    I shrug. ¡°Trees maybe. Most animals really. I mean, if you think about it, humans are the only things that really bring any of this dark, sinister behavior into the world. I mean sure a wolf kills a deer, but you won¡¯t find a wolf hunting deer to extinction to build a new forest route, right? Does that make sense?¡±

    She doesn¡¯t reply.

    I sit in silence for a while, dwelling on in my own thoughts, before I realize, upon closer listening, that she¡¯s crying. ¡°Holy shit, um, are you ok?¡± I ask, before I realize how stupid I sound. I scoot over to her, putting my arm around her. To my surprise, she leans into me, sobbing onto my shoulder. ¡°Hey, hey it¡¯s alright.¡±

    ¡°No¡­ no it freaking isn¡¯t,¡± she sobs. ¡°We¡¯re going to die. We¡¯re going to die soon.¡±

    ¡°Hey, everybody dies at some point, right? We just hopped on the bus a little early. It¡¯s ok, dying isn¡¯t the end. It¡¯s just part of the journey. We just have to find out what¡¯s on the other side. You¡¯ve already accomplished more than most people ever do in their whole lives! I mean, look at me, what have I ever done? Everything I do isn¡¯t because I wanted to do it, it¡¯s because my raggedy life just rolled me into it somehow. If there¡¯s a judgement day then you haven¡¯t got anything to worry about.¡±

    She inhales deeply, pulling away from me, and to my surprise, her sobs turn into feeble laughs. She rocks back and bites her lip, shaking her head. ¡°Hey, wanna check if there¡¯s anything to drink? In the rations compartment?¡±

    I nod. ¡°You, my friend, are an absolute genius,¡± I tell her, standing up and making my way to the rear of the tank. I rummage through the assorted dried rations but find nothing of use. ¡°We¡¯re dry, unless you know a way to get drunk off water,¡± I tell her, looking deeper. ¡°I heard that you could get a quick buzz by injecting it into you¡­¡± my words fade away as I turn back to her.

    She¡¯s standing in front of me, with teary, red rimmed, beautiful hazel eyes. Her uniform shirt falls from her hands, landing in a heap at her feet and revealing her impeccably godly bra covered breasts. She moves swiftly to me, wrapping her arms around me, pressing her plump, soft lips to mine as sliding her thighs across my crotch. I¡¯m too stunned to move as she kisses me with the ferocity of a lion her hands caressing through my dirty hair.

    My consciousness thuds back into me, and I grab her by the waist, flipping us around and ramming her against the tank wall. I unclip her bra and fling it aside, then move to her neck. I kiss and I suck the way I¡¯ve learnt girls love from all my years of school-girl seducing. I squeeze her truly magnificent ass, which is too big for me to handle with my usual control but release it and move my hands to the back of her thighs as I kiss down her chest. I take her large left breast in my hand and think about how I¡¯m going to suck it dry, when she grabs the back of my head and pushes my face into it. I¡¯m lost in the softness and warmth, locating her nipple and unleashing my tongue.

    When I finish, I move swiftly to her right breast and work quickly. We might not have much time left. After I finish, she¡¯s started to moan. Soft, weak, and vulnerable. Everything that she isn¡¯t floods through me. I kiss down her flat stomach. Usually I work slowly, so as to build up the tension, but now I glance over, unzipping her pants and pulling them down. She steps out of them, but rather than letting me become the crocodile that I am, she pulls me up and kisses me again. With her long, strong fingers, she pulls off my shirt. As she kisses down my chest, I barely hear the racket outside increasing, and don¡¯t even register the fact that this means they¡¯re close.

    By the time she unzips me, I¡¯m throbbing like I¡¯m about to pop. She takes me in, moving in slow, excruciatingly pleasurable rasps. Her tongue moves along the length of my shaft, twirls around the head, and laps its underside over the top. She moves closer, taking me into her throat, and it feels like I¡¯m being swallowed by a goddess of pleasure. It¡¯s been less than thirty seconds, but I know I can¡¯t last. Electricity sizzles within me like a lightning bolt within a human shaped container made of mirrors. Ever closer it draws to the sole exit, ready to explode with the magnitude of a volcano.

    I manage to grab her face, my palms resting on her cheekbones, and gently push her away. To my amazement, she falls backwards, back arched, chin tilted backwards, and her legs wide apart. I don¡¯t waist a second, placing my hands on her knees, then gliding down to her waist. I slide into her, softly and slowly. She lets out a soft, tingly, electric moan. It fuels my lust, and I quicken my pace, thrusting into her with the physical embodiment of the culmination of my primordial desires. I move with the strength of a wolf, and she with the grace of a deer. Predator and prey, we work as one. After so long of chasing, I have finally arrived. I have finally succeeded. I have finally achieved my sole evolutionary purpose.

    Suddenly, she pulls herself away, and for a second I think I¡¯ve done something wrong, when she goes onto her hands and knees and slides back over me. I grab her hips and thrust back inside, reentering the hunt.

    Her moans grow louder as I move deeper, faster, stronger and harder. I thrust my soul into her, tilting my head back and gripping her hips tighter. I close in on my prey. The final stretch is upon me as I move every inch of my body with every drop of prehistoric lust within me.

    Her moans have turned into screams, and my huffs into grunts as the cycle as old as life itself nears its finish. It builds within me. The final runner¡¯s high. The last bursting thrash of a shark to its prey. The ultimate stretch of the wolf¡¯s chase, the final ultimate culmination of oneself at last reaches its endpoint.

    The hatch above us at last cracks open as Amethyst climaxes, and my life juice erupts into her.

 2.7 Derogation

    7

    ¡°Aww god you guys,¡± cries somebody as the hatch clanks back closed.

    Amethyst scrabbles away from me, both of us looking at each other in confusion.

    It takes me a moment to recognize the voice. ¡°Deqar,¡± I gasp with glee. We throw our clothes back on and pull ourselves out of the tank. The rim of the hatch is burnt and battered, and all around it lie blue suited men with blood dripping from holes in their bodies.

    ¡°Wha¡­¡± I breathe, looking around.

    The shock on our faces quickly turns to glee. ¡°We¡¯re not going to die,¡± she gasps.

    ¡°We¡¯re going to freaking live!¡± I exclaim, leaping off the tank in joy.

    ¡°What the hell happened?¡± Amethyst asks, visibly bewildered.

    ¡°Well,¡± Deqar begins. ¡°We lost Horgan to the damn mega gun thing, but the rest of us got into one of those doors before it got us. From there we just kind of wandered around the place until we found this hangar. We saw all these mechanics banging the hell out of the tank, along with some soldiers shooting, so they were easy pickings. Janns said that it was like mowing grass.¡±

    ¡°Janns is alive?¡± Amethyst asks.

    Deqar nods. ¡°Yeah, he¡¯s at the end of end of the hangar with Lorick and Cherthur.¡±

    ¡°Sekera?¡± I ask, wide eyed.

    His grim face says it all. ¡°Haven¡¯t seen her.¡±

    All the anxiety that had been absent in my momentary deathbed manifests itself quickly into my shoulder and neck. My pills are back at the camp.

    ¡°C¡¯mon, we got to regroup and plan our move,¡± he says, gesturing for us to follow him.

    We pad after him, neither of us wanting to look at the other. Amethyst face lights up as she sees Janns, lanky and longhaired, reclining against a pile of tires, Lorick, ugly faced and curly haired, sitting atop that same pile, and Cherthur who¡¯s sprawled out over the floor. She embraces Janns quickly and formally.

    ¡°We thought we were lost there,¡± she mutters.

    ¡°We¡¯re not done yet,¡± Janns replies, picking up his gun. ¡°We¡¯ve found the route that leads directly to the control room. General Korren is bound to be there.¡±

    ¡°So, we just pull up and chuck a grenade in there. Simple,¡± says Cherthur, sitting up.

    ¡°Pretty much.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Amethyst contradicts. ¡°If we¡¯re taking this place down, we might as well get some valuable info with it. We can¡¯t do that if all the tech is blown the hell.¡±

    ¡°Korren first. If we can keep a monitor working, then sure, we do that,¡± Janns decides.

    ¡°And Sekera?¡± I ask. ¡°We don¡¯t know if she¡¯s dead. We can¡¯t just act like she is.¡±

    ¡°If Sekera¡¯s alive, then its safer for all of us if we go looking for her after the threat has been neutralized,¡± Amethyst explains.

    ¡°How the hell are we even supposed to do this? If we manage to get Korren, the rest of them will surely overrun us soon after,¡± I protest.

    Janns shakes his head. ¡°These bastards are real good at looking more in number than they are. We¡¯ve probably killed most of their arms force already. Those twats with that chain gun up there and the others in the command room. Maybe a couple stragglers between.¡±

    ¡°Ok. Let¡¯s get this shit over and done with,¡± Deqar says, with more enthusiasm than I¡¯ve seen since we arrived here.

    Janns claps him on the shoulder. ¡°Let¡¯s move.¡±

    We jog into the hall, moving as a unit. Janns in the lead, followed by Amethyst, then Lorick, Deqar, Cherthur and me at the rear. At first, Deqar keeps a safe distance between himself and Lorick, but as we progress the distance dissolves. can put his emotions and his part behind him in order to achieve something for the greater good. Deqar is better than me in that sense. In most senses actually.

    Then a thought flickers back into my mind. I¡¯m still probably going to die, aren¡¯t I? I managed to scrape through so far, purely because of Amethyst. We¡¯re literally storming a control room. They probably expect us and will pick us off one by one once we¡¯re pinned down. So how the hell am I supposed to survive this? Janns will go first definitely, but Amethyst will probably follow. Letting the others go first would be my best chance but sticking to Amethyst might be a better option. Or maybe I should just turn around and run like hell. No. I wouldn¡¯t even make it out of the base, let alone manage to steal a rover.

    Screw that. Me, Deqar and Sekera are going to escape this shit, make it back to West Side, and have the time of our lives. Amethyst will go on being the over achiever that she is, and maybe screw around with me from time to time. Huh, who am I kidding. No way I¡¯m ever getting that again. That was more out of pity and ¡®it¡¯s the end of the world¡¯ than anything else.

    Janns halts, putting a finger to his lips. We ease onto our toes and hunch our backs. Silence is everything in an ambush. The shark knows that. The wolf knows that. The snake knows that. Humans know that too, but let¡¯s see if we can execute it. Unlike the snake, shark or wolf, a failed ambush right now means receiving a bullet through the brain.

    Janns reaches the closed door and stands opposite to it. Amethyst has her back to the wall next to it, gun raised past her cheek. I force my eyes to remain open and my consciousness to remain grounded. Muscle anxiety throbs through my entire left side, like a fungus, with the core being in my shoulder and neck. Left side always. Left side endlessly.

    Janns throws himself forwards in a solid kick, taking the door clean off it¡¯s hinges. He lands on it, inside the room and holds down the trigger. Amethyst moves in next. I wince at the horrific, memory scarring screams that follow. Lorick goes next, alongside Cherthur. Deqar nudges me.You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    ¡°C¡¯mon. It¡¯s all over after this.¡±

    Deqar. The weak, battered fag, who¡¯s been beaten to a pulp and humiliated time and time again, is offering me comfort in this dire time. I move. I don¡¯t bother to take a shot, rolling under a metal desk immediately. Deqar arrives next to me.

    C¡¯mon Kallix. You¡¯re a damn badass. Shoot some bastards.

    I swivel around, pistol in my outstretched arms. We already outnumber them. One of them pops up, firing at someone to my far left. I take the shot, hitting them solidly in the shoulder. A bullet whizzes past me, forcing me back to a crouch. Another one glances off the side of the desk I thought was safe, so I move with a ducked sprint followed by a dive to a toppled desk.

    I peer over the smashed monitors. One blue uniformed man with an assault rifle stands, firing away at Lorick¡¯s position. Another man, bald, stern looking and with golden epilates. General Korren.

    I lean over, aiming at the sole assault rifle soldier, when something catches my ear. Over all the gunfire and hollers, I hear a recognizable whir. Like a jet engine size blender. The memory clicks in my mind.

    ¡°Get down!¡± I scream at the top of my lungs.

    The giant machine rolls into the room and the sight of Cherthur taking two dozen bullets imprints itself next to too many others for a sixteen year old memory to handle. The line of fire switches to Amethyst, who I can see army crawling faster than I would¡¯ve thought possible as all the monitors above me are blown to bits. I catch her destination, a wide metal pillar that Lorick and Deqar are crouching behind. I sprint, not giving a damn about the cover, just running for my raggedy damn life. As Amethyst reaches, the barrel points towards me.

    I dive forwards, reaching safety but not before a bullet tears through the skin of my forearm. I tumble into Deqar, who pulls me further into safety. I see Lorick hauling Janns out of the line of bullets before he can be pumped full of lead.

    This is it. We¡¯re screwed.

    ¡°It¡¯s not going to hold forever,¡± Lorick caws, pressing his back to the metal.

    ¡°We need ideas fast,¡± hisses Janns, squeezing further against Lorick.

    ¡°I¡¯m thinking,¡± Amethyst mutters, shoving a new clip into her gun.

    The bullets are deafening, chipping off the edges of the metal pillar until we can no longer fit shoulder to shoulder.

    Hey god. If you exist, you can be a real dick sometimes, you know that?

    Just as we start to pile on top of each other, I hear a thud, followed by a scream. The bullets stop, and we quickly peer apprehensively over the jagged remains of the pillar.

    Sekera, fully alive and fully ass kicking, literally falls from the ceiling, guns blazing, right onto the giga gun, slaughtering half of our attackers in under five seconds.

    Amethyst and Deqar join her in a full on close combat assault, while Lorick and Janns go for Korren. I¡¯m scrambling after Deqar when I see Sekera dive off the chain gun, twist unnaturally mid air and crumple to the ground.

    Deqar clutches her arms, dragging her to cover.

    ¡°God damnit,¡± I hiss. ¡°Where¡¯s she been shot?¡±

    Deqar, thinking quickly, goes for Amethyst, who¡¯s handling too many to win, even with her combat capabilities.

    ¡°Sekera,¡± I say.

    She sucks in air through her teeth and grips her leg. Dark red blood stains the trousers of her upper thigh. Images of Varan bleeding out in front in front of my flash before my eyes as I pull off my uniform shirt and tie it as tightly as possible around the wound.

    Then all of a sudden, the gunshots stop. I look up, wearily.

    Amethyst is disarmed with her hands in the air, and one soldier holds an assault rifle, barrel pointed towards her. The second soldier¡¯s gun is aimed at Deqar, who¡¯s rifle is held against his shoulder, switching between the two foes. Across the room, Lorick stands up tall with his rifle pointed at Deqar¡¯s soldier. Janns, holds Korren in a headlock, pistol shoved against his temple.

    ¡°Drop you weapons,¡± Janns orders, pointing the pistol at the others.

    The soldiers refuse, their eyes darting like flies between Amethyst, Deqar and their captive General.

    ¡°I said drop your damn weapons!¡±

    ¡°General?¡± one of the soldiers asks.

    ¡°Do as he says,¡± Korren replies.

    Weapons clatter to the ground.

    ¡°Good,¡± says Janns. He nods to Lorick.

    Two shots.

    Both soldiers crumple.

    Two heaps of flesh, as dead as the floor beneath them.

    ¡°Great,¡± Janns smiles, shoving Korren to Lorick. ¡°Secure this twunt.¡±

    Shocked or not, I¡¯m relieved. Alive. Still god damn freaking alive. I couldn¡¯t count how many times I¡¯d been shot at in the past few hours.

    Amethyst smiles. She actually smiles. It¡¯s a rare, stunningly beautiful sight, but I don¡¯t have time to soak it in.

    ¡°Are you fading?¡± I ask.

    Sekera grunts. ¡°Naw. Not yet. Not so easy to kill me. Bad bitch, right?¡±

    Amethyst¡¯s smile quickly fades, returning to sternness as she searches the wreckage for a still working monitor. Eventually she finds one, with a cracked screen and missing keys, but working nonetheless.

    ¡°We thought you¡¯d died. Well, they did. I knew you¡¯d¡­ find a way.¡±

    ¡°I was pretty sure I was dead myself,¡± she says with a weak laugh. ¡°That thing nearly got me. Managed to get myself into an air vent before they found me though. I was crawling around in that damn thing for so freaking long. I found the control room pretty early, but I couldn¡¯t seem to find you guys. After I started hearing gunshots, I crawled towards them and lo and behold I¡¯m directly above that dratted chain gun. Thank the damn lord for that.¡±

    As she speaks, her tone fluctuates, and her eyes flutter.

    ¡°Rest,¡± I advise. ¡°We¡¯ll get Amethyst to fix you up. I¡¯m sure they¡¯ve got a shit tone of medical supplies here. We¡¯ll¡­¡±

    ¡°Hey guys, look at this,¡± Amethyst calls.

    ¡°What? What is it?¡± I ask, scampering to her side.

    Janns and Deqar crowd around, while Lorick cranes his neck to see, not daring to move away from Korren.

    On the screen is a grainy old video, with a figure standing in perfect military posture. I make out the figure to be Blax. Definitely younger, but still with the same stark, icy eyes.

    His face switches to a warm smile, something I wouldn¡¯t have thought would be biologically possible on a man such as himself. He unclips a walkie talkie from his belt and mutters something indecipherable about it.

    The video switches to security camera footage of a horde of raggedy, underfed, barely clothed children, none of which is over ten years old, ambling out of a room. A dozen or so beige clad soldiers intercept them. At first, I couldn¡¯t tell what they were doing, but then I realized that they were shackling them, onto one long chain link. The distinct figure of Blax remains in the corner, still smiling all the while.

    ¡°Oh my god,¡± Deqar gasps, recoiling from the monitor.

    ¡°The bastard is a damn human trafficker,¡± I gawk.

    I knew he was stark, stern and sadistic, but never in a million years would I have guessed this.

    ¡°Do you people,¡± Korren pipes with a smooth, deep voice, ¡°ever stop to think why you¡¯re on the side that you¡¯re on? Do you ever think that maybe, just maybe, I¡¯m on the wrong side?¡±

    Amethyst is too stunned to move, Sekera has nearly passed out from blood loss and my mind is racing with all sorts of unwanted and ungodly possibilities. These were the reasons why we didn¡¯t see the next move coming.

    Janns swiftly pulls his pistol from its holster, grabs Deqar by the neck and presses the cold metal to the back of the ex-Swifter¡¯s neck. ¡°Nobody move,¡± he utters with a stone voice.

    ¡°Woah, woah, woah,¡± I stutter, unable to take in this much. ¡°You too?¡±

    Amethyst¡¯s eyes are fiery, but she remains still. Her jaw is clenched and her neck is flexed with anger, but there¡¯s nothing she can do. Both of our weapons lie on the other side of the room.

    ¡°Ok, this is what¡¯s going to happen,¡± he starts. ¡°You¡¯re going to place your hands behind your head and turn away from me. If you move your hand from your head, I¡¯ll shoot you and then Deqar.

    ¡°You bitch of a weasel,¡± Deqar hisses, receiving him a knock from the pistol barrel.

    ¡°Lorick,¡± Janns calls.

    ¡°Yeah, boss?¡± Lorick calls from across the room.

    ¡°Delete the files. All of them. Wipe the computer clean. Smash it to bits if you have to.¡±

    I hear Lorick picking his way to the wreckage.

    ¡°Lorick,¡± Janns says.

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t need your gun to do that.¡±

    ¡°Oh. Sorry boss.¡±

    I know a lot of action happened in the half second that passed before I turned around, but all I saw was a bullet splattering Janns¡¯s brain over the wall, and a second one, shot earlier, tearing through Deqar¡¯s torso.

 2.8 Hollow

    7

    ¡°Deqar!¡±

    I¡¯m at his side in an instant.

    ¡°Quickly, grab his legs,¡± Amethyst instructs.

    Together, we manage to lift him as gently as possible onto a bullet hole ridden desk. He¡¯s in so much pain he can¡¯t even scream. Blood has soaked through his entire lower left side, his legs kick and jitter, his eyes are nearly rolling back into his head.

    ¡°Help me get his shirt off,¡± she continues. Together, we wince through his gargled screams and pull the blood soaked fabric off him. Varan and now Deqar, bleeding out before me. Varan however, didn¡¯t have Amethyst.

    She opens her med kit next to his head and pulls out what looks like a needle and thread. ¡°Lorick! Get over here!¡± she hollers.

    The burly, curly haired man tears his eyes away from Janns¡¯s dead body and shuffles over to us.

    ¡°Get his legs. Kallix hold down his arms,¡± she tells us, not even looking up.

    I do as instructed pinning his arms down with my weight.

    Amethyst begins, and with it comes a blood curling scream. Deqar convulses, and blood and foam start to bubble from his mouth. I clench down harder on his thrashing arms and look at the floor.

    Lorick jolts as Deqar¡¯s knee hits his gut.

    To my amazement, I see Sekera pulling herself off the ground and hobbling over to us, helping Lorick.

    Don¡¯t die. Don¡¯t die you son of a bitch. Please don¡¯t freaking die on me. Not now. I can¡¯t take it. You¡¯re all I freaking got left, you know that? I¡¯m sorry I¡¯ve been such a dick to you all your damn life. I¡¯m sorry I didn¡¯t realize that the one person who would stick by this whole time was right in front of my god damn nose. Just please don¡¯t freaking die.

    Deqar¡¯s eyes roll up into the back of his head, and his arms fall limp against the table.

    ¡°Shit!¡± Amethyst cries. Her fist slams down on the metal.

    ¡°Is he dead?¡± I ask.

    ¡°What¡¯s happened?¡± asks Sekera.

    ¡°Out!¡± she screams. ¡°Everybody get out! Now!¡±

    In the short time I¡¯ve known her, I¡¯ve learnt that doing what she says saves lives. I sling Sekera¡¯s arm over my shoulder, and the three of us move through the rubble, stepping over dead bodies and make for the door.

    I know it¡¯s my messed up brain doing tricks on me, but I swear I saw Janns¡¯s cold, dead eyes look at me. As soon as I looked back, they flick away.

    ~

    ¡°Do you want to try and walk?¡± I ask.

    Sekera snorts. ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s a good idea.¡± She gazes at the dirty bandage around her leg. Her nose twitches.

    ¡°Well you got any cards then?¡± I ask, more out of exasperation than anything else. ¡°I¡¯m bored as god damn hell!¡± I clamber to my feet and pace around the hangar.

    ¡°Can you relax? It¡¯s not even been two hours yet,¡± she replies coolly, glancing at the analog clock that I practically tore from the wall out of rage.

    ¡°Why the hell won¡¯t she let us in?¡± I kick a dismounted tire that¡¯s nearly as tall as I am.

    Sekera shrugs. ¡°Better not to think about it. Amethyst knows what she¡¯s doing.¡±

    ¡°Yeah I¡¯ve learnt that,¡± I mumble.

    Lorick grunts, pushing into his fiftieth pushup.

    I don¡¯t like the pig faced brute, but he might¡¯ve saved Deqar¡¯s life. Probably mine too. ¡°Hell are you working out for?¡±

    He finishes the set before collapsing to his side, panting. ¡°Blax always said that we got to stay fit, even in the most dire situations. Going to kill Blax is a pretty dire situation.¡±

    ¡°Woah, woah, woah,¡± Sekera calls, shifting her position. ¡°Who said anything about killing him?¡±

    ¡°We can¡¯t just leave this! He¡¯ll probably come looking for us anyways,¡± Lorick continues. ¡°If he knows that we know, he¡¯ll kill us. Better we kill him first.¡±

    ¡°Amethyst isn¡¯t going to like that,¡± I mutter. ¡°She practically worships him.¡±

    ¡°Used to,¡± Sekera intercepts. ¡°She¡¯s practically worshipped people before and then turned her back on them like the flip of a switch.¡±

    I hide my flinch with a fake sneeze. I wasn¡¯t the only one she told about that? ¡°No matter,¡± I continue, ¡°I don¡¯t want her on my bad side. Anybody but her.¡±

    ¡°She won¡¯t be. Don¡¯t worry, we¡¯ll¡­¡± her voice fades away as we hear a door creak open.

    Lorick and I are on our feet in an instant, bolting towards the door and forgetting about Sekera¡¯s injury.

    Amethyst stands in the doorway. Blood drips off her fingers and stains her shirt. Her jaw is tight and her eyes are stoic.

    I swallow. ¡°What¡­ happened.¡±

    Lorick¡¯s finger¡¯s are twitching. Sekera is craning her neck to see what¡¯s happening. The left side of my lip starts to bleed. I hadn¡¯t even noticed that I was biting it.¡±This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

    Amethyst takes a deep breath. ¡°He¡¯s¡­ alive.¡±

    We make eye contact for a brief moment. As usual, I¡¯m the only one brave enough to ask. ¡°Will he stay alive?¡±

    Slowly, her chin tilts up, and then back down. It takes me a moment to process that she nodded.

    ¡°So then what¡¯s the problem?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s not moving from here anytime soon.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s paralyzed?¡± I gawk.

    She shakes her head quickly. ¡°No. He¡¯s ok. I stitched him up. The bastard is luckier than should be physically possible. It missed mostly everything, but his liver is slightly torn. Nothing he won¡¯t recover from, thanks to the medical facilities, but he¡¯ll need to watch what he ingests. He¡¯s not moving from here for a weak. I¡¯m afraid moving him might mess up something.¡±

    ¡°Then we go without him,¡± Lorick decides, pushing hair from his face.

    ¡°Are you insane?¡± Sekera calls. ¡°He¡¯s just been shot, and you want to leave him here alone? What if there are still other surviving enemies?¡±

    ¡°So what? You want to wait until Blax pulls up here with Garner, Flack and Yurall? They¡¯ll be fully loaded, ready to reinforce the assault. They won¡¯t be very happy once they find out that we¡¯re just sitting around. I¡¯m going back and I¡¯m going to kill Blax. What he¡¯s done¡­ the way he¡¯s manipulated us¡­ it¡¯s unacceptable. He¡¯s going to die because of it. I¡¯ll kill him if I have to. I don¡¯t give a damn if the rest of you come with me.¡±

    ¡°You won¡¯t succeed. Bax will kill you before you can even get into his vicinity. You need somebody who knows him inside and out. Who knows how he thinks, how he acts and moves.¡±

    ¡°Like yourself?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t say that.¡±

    ¡°What the hell?¡± Sekera hollers. ¡°We are not leaving him. No way! Kallix tell them!¡±

    Everybody turns to me. Even Amethyst is looking at me expectantly. I swallow. My saliva tastes like dust.

    ¡°Amethyst?¡± I ask, stalling.

    Her brow furrows with thought. ¡°I can hook him up with a makeshift drip. I¡¯ll work something out. He¡¯ll survive on his own until we get back. I¡¯m with Lorick.¡±

    Sekera is incredulous. Her eyes swivel to me like she¡¯s got rabies.

    I nod.

    ¡°Hell does that mean?¡± she demands.

    ¡°I agree¡­ with Lorick.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Sekera, the laughing, colorful haired girl who makes me fluttery inside without making my dick stand, stares at me appalled.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. It¡¯s the¡­ best move for all of us,¡± I say. It¡¯s a feeble remark in defense of my shitty actions. I¡¯ve been a good person for a while now. I¡¯m allowed to be shitty for a bit.

    ¡°This is hilarious. This is actually hilarious,¡± Sekera says. She grips the edge of the last tire on the stack and with what looks like an enormous amount of effort pulls herself up. I wince as she hobbles over to me until we¡¯re an inch apart. She looks at me, teary eyed. ¡°You know I thought you were different. I thought that you, unlike everybody else, despite acting like a tough guy all the time, was actually something more. I thought you were brave for all the things you did. I thought you actually cared about the people you love, but you¡¯re just a cowardly, sick, disgusting, selfish piece of shit. You want what¡¯s best for you, and you don¡¯t give a damn about who you hurt! You befriended me because you needed an ally. Someone to watch your back after you ditched Deqar. You¡¯re smart. You¡¯re tactical. You tried on Amethyst and it didn¡¯t work, so you moved to me. Now, you¡¯ve got someone else, so you¡¯re just going to hop onto the next way to get yourself out of all the shit you¡¯ve gotten yourself into.¡±

    My breath is shaky. I close my eyes. ¡°That¡¯s not true,¡± I manage.

    ¡°Yes. Yes, it god damn is, Kallix, and you know it.¡±

    That¡¯s the first time she¡¯s called me by my real name.

    ¡°Stand down,¡± Amethyst orders, stepping between us.

    Sekera looks straight up into her eyes. ¡°And who the hell are you to tell me that?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re military superior. With Janns dead and Blax assumed renegade, I¡¯m your sergeant. So kindly, stand down.¡±

    ¡°With all due respect, sergeant, why don¡¯t you sell your damn body to somebody else instead of the one damn person besides Deqar that I thought was my friend.¡±

    Amethyst¡¯s fists clench. She inhales sharply. ¡°Leave.¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    By the time the thought of intervening even comes to my mind, Amethyst¡¯s fist has made contact with Sekera¡¯s chest. She sprawls onto the ground with a cry.

    ¡°Sekera!¡±

    I dash to her side. She¡¯s crying, shuddering, clawing at her throat and gasping for breath. I prop her head up on my lap, but she pushes me away and tries to get to her feet but falls.

    I rush to her again, but her elbow knocks against my forehead.

    Amethyst¡¯s eyes are fiery, and her nails dig into her palms.

    Lorick looks at the scene through squinted eyes, seemingly unphased.

    The knot in my throat tightens as I watch her pathetically scrabble away. I want to help her. I want to get away from Amethyst. I want to hug her and cry. I want to cradle Sekera and tell her that I¡¯m sorry. I want to curl into a ball and dissolve into the soil that¡¯s as arid than my soul.

    Amethyst strides away, her long legs carrying her out of the room before I can process. Lorick looks at me, his disgusting, distorted face making my bices twitch with anger.

    ¡°Shit. Girls are messed.¡±

    Blood trickles out the side of my mouth. ¡°You¡¯re a¡­ I can¡¯t even think of a curse word to describe you.¡± The sounds flit out my mouth hollowly.

    Lorick shrugs and wipes sweat from his forehead. Is he not scarred? He killed the man he trusted with his life. Does he feel nothing? Is he hollow like me? Am I hollow? Am I even still a shell? Maybe my body is just a host. A host for the virus that is my soul. Sunshine and rainbows.

    ~

    My steps are uneven and cross over each other as I half stagger, half shamble through the hanger. The plastic pillbox drops from my hands and clatters to the floor. A feeble echo sings.

    I drop to a knee, barely registering the pain shooting up my thigh. I pick up the box and clutch it tightly in my clammy hands. I reach a rover. One in a line of identical, uniform, clandestine others. My hands find the handle and the door swings open.

    I slug myself inside, opening the pillbox as I go. They fall onto the seat, little more than faint splotches of white in the darkness. I grab a handful of them and begin to swallow. They¡¯re smooth and glossy, like my tension meds. It comforts me. It warms me.

    The twelve different painkillers inside me prevent me from shouting as the back of my head knocks against the seatbelt clip. The seven more that slide down my throat are giving a brief hinderance in their journey.

    Pain means your alive. Pain means you¡¯re awake.

    I feel nothing as my incisors puncture the skin of my forearm. Warm, soft, forgiving blood oozes onto my clothes, comforting me. A flash of a smile flickers over my face as I shift positions. The pills scatter to the floor.

    I twist.

    I shift.

    I contort.

    I reach them, scooping them up as many as I can and downing them. My throat is probably swollen, but who cares? Who the freaking hell gives a god damn shit about me right now? I¡¯m happy. Screw them. I don¡¯t god damn need them. I don¡¯t need any of them.

    I pull the switchblade from my pocket and press the cool, calm, gentle blade to my bicep. My heartbeat slows and the darkness sharpens.

    Deep breaths calm me.

    The blade glides lightly across my skin, like a lover¡¯s caress.

    I¡¯m vulnerable.

    I¡¯m powerful.

    I¡¯m in control.

    I decide what happens.

    I hear a click and the darkness scuttles back into its crevices. I however, cannot do the same.

    ¡°Oh my god¡­ Kallix what are you¡­¡± The colorful haired girl stairs at me, horror in her eyes.

    I growl.

    She snatches the blade away from me, releasing it so that it slides across the floor. She pushes up next to me and closes the door. Petrified darkness surrounds us.

    The colorful haired girl¡¯s soft touch makes my wilted soul twitch. Her scintillating spirit is like a candle, cast in the obsidian that surrounds us. I claw at her hands, but she pulls me close. Her warmth is different. It¡¯s not like the warmth of a struggling electronic beneath your red fingered hands, but rather like the warmth of an old dog resting on your lap.

    I let her envelope me. Right now, the colorful haired girl is within me. Buried deep inside my emotions. The layers of torn ethical walls, slain morals and feeble scruple.

    With her, my spirit needs no shield.

    My eyes need no shades.

    I need not hide, fore the darkness surrounds us.

    We lie together, a still bleeding carcass and a fiercely flaming spirit, invisible within the cowl of darkness.

 2.9 Youve Been Officially Discharged

    9

    My feet touch down on the rocky ground of the ravine. I blink and dig my knuckle into my eyebrow.

    ¡°No resting,¡± Amethyst warns me. ¡°This is an in and out. No time wasted.¡±

    ¡°You sure it was a good idea to move in broad daylight?¡± Lorick asks, wiping sweat from his eyebrow. We unclip from our harnesses and begin to trek along the ravine.

    ¡°Yes. Blax will expect an attack at night. He¡¯s probably assumed us dead, so he¡¯ll be anticipating an enemy retaliation. Nobody ever attacks in broad daylight. He¡¯ll be completely off guard.¡±

    ¡°Are you sure Sekera will be ok with Deqar?¡± I ask.

    Amethyst nods. ¡°She asked to stay back, so she gets to.¡±

    The three of us fall into an uneasy silence. The midday sun scorches directly into the ravine and there¡¯s little cover to hide from it. By the time we reach the grapple cords, I¡¯m completely drenched in sweat.

    The way up the other side is slow. Neither I, nor Lorick want to crest the edge first. We know that going on a third suicidal mission in a row is pushing luck a bit too far. I start to run through thoughts about what would happen after I die. Not much really. Not much would change. Nothing significant at least.

    That¡¯s depressing.

    Wait no¡­ that¡¯s kind of liberating.

    Amethyst no longer storms ahead of us. Though it¡¯s not nearly as much of a suicide mission for her as it is for Lorick and I, her steps seem to faulter. I haven¡¯t known her long, but I know her well enough to know that her mind is racing.

    Blax is like a father to her.

    No, that isn¡¯t right. Not a father, something else. Maybe more like your second uncle and godfather, after your father¡¯s been crucified.

    What if it was my dad? Would I even give a shit?

    What if it was Kaloaan?

    Amethyst blinks. Not the kind of blink you do when you get dust in your eye, but the kind of blink that happens when you¡¯ve just been appalled to the core. That¡¯s not the kind of thing that Amethyst does.

    Before I know it, we see the camp. Small clusters of tents in the distance. The towering, jagged rock formations claw at the sky around them. The gates of hell perhaps. That¡¯s more than I deserve. I think it¡¯s the teeth of the abyss. It waits before me, mouth agape, but it does not pursue me. The abyss waits in my path, a hulking beast that is all I can see, yet lurks in the far reaches of my mind. I know it will never catch me. Nobody can ever catch me. I need to move towards it. I need to walk into the abyss and embrace its engulfment. I need to let the darkness seep through my pores until I¡¯m little more than fleshy shadow. But I¡¯m not sure if I want to.

    Lorick¡¯s elbow jabs my ribs. ¡°Pay attention,¡± he grunts.

    I look at Amethyst. Her mouth opens, then closes. She blinks another, unAmethystly blink. Her arm jerks, so slightly I barely notice. She inhales sharply through her nose. ¡°Ok.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s the plan, boss?¡± Lorick asks. His brow is furrowed and his mouth is a thin line. Despite his actions saying otherwise, I can tell that he¡¯s has been affected. This shit¡­ this insanity¡­ is traumatizing for anybody.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she says.

    ¡°Huh?¡±

    ¡°You two are¡­ loyal, brave, and¡­ some of the best men I¡¯ve ever served with,¡± she says.

    I flinch at her lies.

    ¡°But I¡¯m doing this alone.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Lorick and I ask simultaneously.

    ¡°Yes. This is my feud. You two have no ties to this. You can take the rovers and head back to the city. I¡¯m sorry. I can¡¯t let you two¡­ lose your lives because of something that you¡­ probably don¡¯t understand.¡±

    I¡¯m stunned.

    ¡°Not happening,¡± Lorick grunts. ¡°Sorry sarge, but it just aint happening. This is my troop. I stick to my troop,¡± he says, blatantly.

    ¡°Lorick,¡± she starts, closing her eyes.

    ¡°No,¡± he cuts her off. ¡°Don¡¯t even try that bullshit. I¡¯m coming with you. That¡¯s final.¡±

    Amethyst bites her lip. ¡°You¡¯re discharged.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°I said, you¡¯re discharged. You¡¯ve disobeyed a direct order from your superior. Thank you for your service, you¡¯re free to go.¡±

    ¡°I said I don¡¯t give a damn!¡± Lorick yells, stomping his foot. ¡°I¡¯m freaking coming with you!¡±

    ¡°I said stand down!¡± she shouts back.

    Lorick moves towards her, but before he can take a step, her handgun his pressed to his neck.

    ¡°I said¡­ stand down.¡±

    Lorick fumes.

    Amethyst¡¯s flaming eyes dart to me.This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    I drop my gun.

    I know I shouldn¡¯t. I know I should stand up to her like Lorick did, but I don¡¯t. I don¡¯t want to be engulfed by the abyss. Not yet.

    Is that selfish?

    Am I just being sensible?

    How many times can I do shitty things. When will they all come back?

    ~

    It¡¯s late at night when we hear it. It pierces the silent blanket of stars above us. It jolts Lorick from his sleep. His arm is raised above his head at an awkward angle, pressed against the gun that it¡¯s cuffed to. He jerks, but it holds strong, wedged between two flanges of the rocks. He isn¡¯t going anywhere.

    I slide my finger over the trigger of the assault rifle and let my eyes drift across the brilliant punctures in the darkness. It¡¯s just a single one. A single damned gunshot.

    I calculated before. Four gunshots mean good. One means bad. Several more means I get my ass up and get over there. But it¡¯s just one. A single bullet not even accompanied by a scream. At least it was quick. She deserved as much.

    I should get up. If I uncuff Lorick, he¡¯ll charge over to the base and get himself killed. I clutch the gun tighter. I¡¯m cold.

    Deqar and Sekera still need me. They¡¯re still alive. I need to get back to the base and help them. Get them back to the city so they can seek proper medical attention. Deqar might die without it.

    I roll off the stone digging into my shoulder blade. ¡°Lorick,¡± I whisper.

    His eyes open.

    ¡°One shot.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°There was only one shot. Remember what we discussed?¡±

    Lorick sighs. ¡°Dumbass. Why didn¡¯t you let me go with her?¡±

    ¡°Shhh!¡± I hiss. ¡°If they hear us, we¡¯re dead too. We need to get back Deqar and Sekera.¡±

    ¡°How can you¡­?¡± his voice fades away.

    Soft rhythmic crunching sounds slither through the night. Footsteps.

    Lorick squirms, jerking at his cuff. I scramble into a crouch and remove the safety from the rifle. I pull out my handgun and toss it to him.

    The crunches draw closer. Whoever it is isn¡¯t trying to be stealthy. And they¡¯re alone. I press my shoulder against the rock and hold my breath. They¡¯re no more than ten meters from us. Eight. Five.

    My finger twitches on the trigger.

    I don¡¯t kill people.

    People just get killed because of me.

    Three. Two. One.

    I stand, barrel pointed forwards¡­ and freeze.

    Amethyst stands in front of me, eyes to the ground. She¡¯s alive and breathing. Breathing very heavily.

    The gun slips from my hands and I embrace her. She doesn¡¯t hug me back.

    ¡°Thank the damn sky you¡¯re alive,¡± I breath.

    As I slip away from her, my hands brush hers. They¡¯re wet. She pulls a key from her pocket and tosses it to Lorick, who quickly uncuffs himself.

    ¡°The bastard. Is he dead?¡±

    She nods once. ¡°He¡¯s dead.¡±

    ¡°The others?¡±

    ¡°Dead.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡±

    ¡°We¡­ we only heard one shot,¡± I tell her. ¡°We thought he got you.¡±

    Even in the faint moonlight, I can see that she looks deeply disturbed. ¡°He wasn¡¯t close. He never stood a chance,¡± she breaths.

    I¡¯m quickly unnerved.

    ¡°Amethyst,¡± I say, reaching out. As my hand touches her shoulder, she jerks and looks at me for the first time.

    ¡°I¡¯m going,¡± she blurts.

    ¡°What? Where?¡± I cry in confusion as she turns to stride away.

    ¡°Killing Blax hasn¡¯t undone what he did!¡± she yells, breaking into a run. ¡°I¡¯m going to make things right!¡±

    ¡°Wait!¡± I yell. I take off, sprinting after her. She can¡¯t leave. Not now.

    I¡¯m fast. I¡¯m as fast a wolf, weaving through the trees and chasing his prey.

    But she¡¯s a gazelle, moving with such impeccable and awestriking speed that I don¡¯t even stand a chance to catch up to her. I soon fall into a faltering stumble.

    ¡°Amethyst!¡± I scream.

    She doesn¡¯t respond. She doesn¡¯t stop.

    I can¡¯t be caught. That doesn¡¯t mean that I can catch. I¡¯m no wolf. I¡¯m merely an agile cockroach.

    Lorick arrives behind me, panting with loud heavy rasps. ¡°What the hell, man.¡±

    I look at him over my shoulder. Damn that girl. Damn this whole damned world. What the god damn hell?

    ~

    The sunrise is a dazzling painting of reds and purples, but my eyes are fixed on the ground. Too many people gone too fast. Lorick trudges on next to me with the ravine behind us. Neither of us speak.

    We enter the compound and navigate the winding halls until we find Sekera. She¡¯s dead asleep, lying on her back atop one of the soldier¡¯s bunks. Her injured leg rests propped up by the heel on the bedframe. She looks so peaceful with her chest rising and her soft breathing. A purple feather from her hair crosses her forehead over her eye. A turquoise brain with three silver rings plated into it crosses the bristles of the feather. Her small nose twitches

    ¡°Sekera,¡± I say. My voice is hoarse and gravelly.

    She jolts. ¡°Oww,¡± she groans, gripping her thigh. ¡°Shit. You¡¯re back.¡± She tries to maneuver herself into an upright position. I help her.

    Lorick¡¯s eyes wander the room idly.

    ¡°Where¡¯s Amethyst?¡± Sekera asks. Her eyes are big, innocent and anxious.

    ¡°She¡¯s not here. She left.¡±

    Sekera looks confused.

    ¡°She didn¡¯t let us go with her into the camp. She went in and killed Blax. Then she took off like she was being chased by a pack of dogs. She said she wanted to make things right.¡±

    ¡°Oh my damn god,¡± she breaths. ¡°I hope that wasn¡¯t my fault.¡±

    ¡°No. No it wasn¡¯t,¡± I reassure her, sitting down next to her and Lorick begins to wander. ¡°She wanted to.¡±

    She tilts her head back and scratches sleep dust from her eyes. ¡°It must¡¯ve been scary.¡±

    I shoot her with a weak smile. ¡°I don¡¯t think I can get scared anymore, after all this shit.¡±

    She laughs. The sound makes something bubble inside me. ¡°You bet it. So¡­ what¡¯s the plan now?¡± She asks, reclining.

    I sigh, flopping back next to her. ¡°I¡¯m not really sure,¡± I say, studying the wood of the upper bunk.

    Her intertwines with mine. Her fingers are soft, cool and soothing. ¡°There¡¯s only really one place to go, isn¡¯t there. Back to the city.¡±

    I chew my cheek. ¡°I dunno. I kinda like it out here. I mean it¡¯s quiet, the landscape is beautiful and the stars are truly magnificent.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯ve only got limited rations here, you know,¡± she tells me, dropping my hand and moving so she¡¯s back on her pillow, perpendicular to me with her legs lying across my stomach. ¡°Plus, this wasn¡¯t just some random skirmish. There are others coming here.¡±

    ¡°From where? It can¡¯t be the city. There must be other places we can go.¡±

    ¡°If there are other places, we¡¯ve got no idea how to find them. What I do know is that the Dunes stretch for hundreds of miles in each direction, so if you want to slowly die of thirst, I¡¯m down for it.¡±

    I can¡¯t help but laugh. ¡°Fine, we can go back to the city. But we go to East Side. I¡¯m sick of West Side.¡±

    ¡°You from there?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. Shithole of a place.¡±

    ¡°East Side isn¡¯t much better. It¡¯s just prettier.¡±

    ¡°Good enough for me.¡±

    ¡°And once we get there? What¡¯re we gonna do?¡±

    ¡°We can do whatever the damn hell we wanna,¡± I say with a trademark smile. ¡°We can go screw with some rich folk, we can graffiti the hell out of the mayor¡¯s house, we can get some bikes and find the craziest routes to ride.¡±

    ¡°We could go to the arcade too!¡± she says excitedly. ¡°My god I love the arcade. And the fair, have you every been there? The roller coasters are insane! I could show you some all out rad video games of mine.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve got a house?¡±

    ¡°Well, more like a crib or a cave. It could be like our HQ during our missions.¡±

    ¡°Missions?¡±

    ¡°Yeah! It¡¯d be awesome! We could-¡±

    ¡°Kallix! Sekera!¡± Lorick hollers.

    The fluttering in my chest at the sight of Sekera being so excited suddenly extinguishes. ¡°Yeah?¡± we call back.

    ¡°Where the hell is Deqar!¡±

 2.10 An Ocean of Judgement

    10

    I stare, utterly frozen in shock at metal desk. It¡¯s covered in brown dried blood and bits of dirty bandage, but Deqar is nowhere to be found. ¡°How¡­¡±

    ¡°Oh my god,¡± Sekera breaths, her hands over her agape mouth. ¡°No, I swear he was here. He was just here before I went to sleep. He wasn¡¯t responding to me. He was unconscious and breathing. I didn¡¯t¡­ I didn¡¯t know that-¡±

    ¡°Shut up,¡± I hiss. ¡°We need to find him. He can¡¯t have gone far.¡±

    ¡°Could he move? Like, was he physically able to move?¡± Lorick asks.

    ¡°Well¡­ he shouldn¡¯t have. It might¡¯ve torn open the stitches,¡± Sekera tries.

    ¡°Ok split up,¡± I instruct, moving forwards without any particular direction. If there was a survivor in the base and they¡¯ve got Deqar, then this fight is far from over.

    I weave through the halls, dodging through racks of weapons, mess tables and all other sorts of apparatus that I¡¯m moving too quickly to identify. I leap onto a table, turning in a circle and looking for any sign that he might¡¯ve passed. There. The far door in the corner. A tiny stain of red brown on the handle. It¡¯s still ajar.

    I stride from table to table, launch myself towards the door, landing with a perfectly executed roll and fling it open. Before me is a spiral staircase going both up and down. Wild guess time.

    I charge up the stairs, moving three at a time. The stairs don¡¯t stop at any of the floors I know to exist between the lower mess hall and ground level. It must be a fire escape.

    By the time I reach the end of the stairs, my black nylon t shirt is drenched in sweat and my hair droops over my eyes. I fling the door open and am blasted with a wave of fresh, dusty air. The sun scorches my eyes. I pull my Ray Bands from my pocket and slide them over my face.

    I had found them, along with my bloody, torn, dirt caked jeans, Rieka¡¯s hoodie, my grey-black and my pills back in the camp. I¡¯d left the jeans, keeping a pair of dark camo pants, and resorted to tying the hoodie around my waist. I¡¯m not sure why I still have it. Purely practical reasons.

    The rows of buggies and rovers that line the parched ground fill my vision. Then I catch a trail of dust, faintly settling in the distance. I catch him from the corner of my eye. A tiny figure, zooming towards the horizon, dust pluming up behind him.

    I don¡¯t shout. There¡¯s no point.

    I don¡¯t run. There¡¯s no point.

    I don¡¯t cry. There¡¯s no point.

    But I can¡¯t help myself from wondering, even though there¡¯s no damn point.

    It wasn¡¯t my fault. It couldn¡¯t have been. Sure, I¡¯d been more than a dick to him in the past. He¡¯d tried hard to be my friend and I¡¯d barely even acknowledge his existence. But I made up for it, didn¡¯t I? I defended him¡­ or at least tried to. I¡­ left him for Amethyst¡­ and Sekera on multiple occasions. No. It couldn¡¯t have been me. It couldn¡¯t have been Sekera, she was nothing but kind to him. Lorick? Deqar wasn¡¯t that weak. He never would¡¯ve let Lorick and Ficlan get to his head. Deqar was strong¡­ he must¡¯ve been hardened, growing up as a queer. He must¡¯ve been stone strong¡­ like me? Maybe he is like me. Maybe he¡¯s strong to everybody else, but a fickle, tremoring, weaselly soul on the inside. Perhaps he was tormented. Perhaps everybody is internally tormented and I just don¡¯t notice because I think I¡¯m special. Specially agonized by myself, but instead I just fall for the same trick that I pull, which everybody falls for? Are everybody else¡¯s emotional walls as strong and effective as mine? Were Deqar¡¯s?

    Lorick stumbles to a panting halt beside me. ¡°Anything?¡±

    I nod. ¡°Bastard¡¯s gone. Took a quadbike. No idea where he¡¯s going.¡±

    Lorick raises a single, wormy eyebrow. ¡°Wasn¡¯t he shot pulped? How the hell did he manage that?¡±

    ¡°No idea. I do know that he¡¯s strong. Stronger than us.¡±

    ¡°Pfft. That guy was as skinny as you? Dainty little queer he was. Glad it was him and not one of us, eh?¡±

    My punch is lightning fast, aimed with near perfection at his pulpy nose. Rather than a satisfying crunch and a small splatter of blood, my arm jolts. Lorick squeezes his hand around my fist, an inch away from his face. ¡°Woah. Chill dude.¡±

    I send another one at his gut, but it¡¯s caught halfway.

    ¡°What the hell are you doing?¡± he demands.

    I kick at his knee, but he pivots so I hit his angled thigh, throwing me off balance. He flips me over his shoulder and I land with a thud.

    ¡°You¡¯re mental,¡± he concludes.

    I gasp and prop myself up on my elbows. ¡°You¡¯re¡­ a dick. Why the hell¡­ do the people like you always¡­ survive?¡±

    ¡°People like me? You mean people like us?¡±

    I try and roll onto my feet, but his foot rams into my chest, pinning me back to the ground.

    ¡°Are you going to try and punch me?¡± he asks.

    I don¡¯t know what to do, so I just go lax. My thick, long hair sprawls around my head, cushioning me from the stones. So this is defeat? Doesn¡¯t feel like remorse¡­ more like deflation.

    ¡°Good. Go help your girlfriend, we should take a rover and head back for the city,¡± he tells me, releasing the pressure. Air floods back into my lungs as I gasp.

    I struggle to my feet with spinning vision as Lorick prowls towards the rovers. ¡°Bastard,¡± I huff.

    ¡°Looking for fuel. Hurry up. If you¡¯re not here in half an hour I¡¯m leaving. Not going to think twice.¡±

    ¡°What about rations?¡± I call. ¡°Food and water.¡±

    ¡°We finished them.¡±

    ¡°How? We¡¯ve been here for like three days.¡±

    ¡°They get fresh supplies delivered every three days. Which means that they¡¯re due any moment.¡±

    ¡°Shit,¡± I hiss, practically staggering back through the door. I retrace my steps through the base until I nearly crash into Sekera.

    She¡¯s halfway up a flight of stairs, sweaty despite the cold underground air and leaning heavily on the banister. Her big eyes look up at me.

    ¡°He left.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I¡¯m sorry. He got onto a quadbike and just drove away. I barely saw his dust trail.¡±

    Sekera¡¯s jaw goes slack. ¡°And you didn¡¯t drive after him?¡±

    ¡°Sekera I¡­¡±

    She hits me in the shoulder. I don¡¯t move. ¡°Kallix what the hell?¡± she cries pummeling my core with her small fists. My mouth is a thin line against my stone face.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I mutter.

    She cries out, falling forwards and ramming her shoulder into my gut. I clench, releasing my grip on the bannister and wrap my arms around her, pulling her into a gruff hug. Tears break free from her eyes as she slumps into me, coiling her thin arms around my midsection. Her shudders reverberate to my spine. I lean painfully against the bannister, holding her tightly. Her hands pull my black nylon shirt, like a child not wanting to be taken away from their father.

    This is just so damn¡­ depressing. Why the hell can¡¯t something just go well in my life? Screw up. God damn freaking screw up. Damnit it isn¡¯t your fault, Kallix. Deqar¡¯s just a bastard. Don¡¯t say that. Deqar isn¡¯t a¡­ screw you. Damn god damn freaking hell.

    Sekera¡¯s tears disappear in the nylon. I lean forwards, grip her underarms and pull her up to my step so I can hold her head to my shoulder. My damn, bony shoulder. It probably hurts. I guess she¡¯s to hurt emotionally to feel my angular shoulder bone jabbing into her head. Damn. ¡°We need to go,¡± I whisper into her ear.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    She sniffs and looks up at me with her utterly enormous, teary turquoise eyes.

    ¡°Lorick said that the resupply will be arriving hear any moment. It¡¯s not safe. We need to head back to the city. He¡¯s leaving soon and our best chance is to go with him.¡±

    Sekera nods, blinking tears from her eyes and pulls herself away from me. I sling her arm over my shoulder. She¡¯s too emotionally exhausted to protest.

    By the time we step back onto the scorched ground, Lorick is maneuvering a rover towards us. She tries not to show it, but I can see the strain in her jaw and the pain in her eyes. I open the back door and help her in, trying to get her as comfortably as possible.

    ¡°Hey Lorick, is there any way we can strap her leg in? Stop it from moving when the rover jolts?¡±

    ¡°Dunno.¡±

    I sneer at him and give Sekera a sorry look. She brushes me off and adjusts herself. I vault over the door and land in the shotgun seat, next to Lorick.

    ¡°You know there¡¯s a door, right?¡± he says.

    ¡°Start the damn car,¡± I groan.

    He revs the engine and the car lurches forward. We tear towards the horizon as Lorick presses the pedal to the floor. My hair billows behind me and my eyes water from the dust. I relish the feeling.

    ¡°You sure this tank will get us to the city?¡± I ask over the wind.

    ¡°I hope,¡± Lorick mutters. ¡°Got extra in the back, but no promises.¡±

    ¡°And if it doesn¡¯t? If the engine just goes dead?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re screwed.¡±

    I lean back, prop up my legs and push my shades over my eyes, protecting them from the wind and the cloudless sky. Before I even notice, the rumble of the engine and the rhythmic jolts have lulled me into a shallow, dreamless sleep.

    It isn¡¯t long before my head cracks against the metal side of the door, snapping me awake. My tongue is so dry it sticks to the roof of my mouth. Sekera¡¯s dead asleep with her head craned awkwardly out the window, and Lorick¡¯s knuckles are white from gripping the steering wheel.

    ¡°You want me to take over?¡± I offer.

    He shakes his head. ¡°You smell like a terrible driver.¡± I see his eyes scan the horizon apprehensively.

    ¡°How long¡¯ve we been driving?¡±

    ¡°An hour. Maybe more.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re halfway there then, aren¡¯t we?¡±

    ¡°Should be. I think.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re lost,¡± I suddenly conclude.

    ¡°What makes you say that?¡± Lorick asks. His tone tells me all I need to know.

    ¡°Damnit Lorick!¡± I yell, slamming my fists on the dashboard. ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t you tell us?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re not lost! It¡¯s just not very easy to navigate when everything looks the god damn same!¡±

    ¡°Lorick I swear¡­¡± my words slip from my mind as my heart literally falls into my stomach.

    The engine splutters, then comes to a slow, agonizing halt. I let my head fall against the dashboard. ¡°Screw¡­ the world.¡±

    Lorick curses and rattles the steering wheel. He revs the engine again and again, to no avail. ¡°Hold on.¡± He swings himself out.

    ¡°We¡¯re out of fuel?¡±

    ¡°No! I damn told you I brought enough.¡±

    ¡°Not enough for us to drive in circles,¡± I mutter.

    He flips open the hood. Smoke or steam or whatever it is billows out into his face making him erupt into cough. Damn bastard. The sun, sand and his driving overheated it completely!

    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± Sekera asks, snapping awake.

    ¡°Lorick¡¯s screwed us over,¡± I say over my shoulder as I slide out as well.

    The engine looks like the lungs of a chain smoking robot in the middle of enjoying a tree sized cigar. ¡°So?¡± I ask.

    ¡°No way in hell this thing¡¯s starting,¡± he mutters, waving away the smoke.

    ¡°Military designed desert rovers that overheat after driving them for an hour. How the hell does that make any sense?¡± I cry, tossing my hands up into the air.

    Sekera looks at us, very visibly worried.

    I scoop up a handful of sand and fling it away. Half of it blows back into my face. I let out a deep sigh and smack my lips in thirst.

    When I turn back to the rover, I see Lorick trudging off. ¡°Hell are you going!¡± I call.

    ¡°This thing isn¡¯t moving. Doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯m not. City¡¯s that way, if my estimate is correct.¡±

    ¡°We have a god damn injured with us!¡± I holler.

    ¡°Not my problem,¡± he calls back.

    Shit.

    Sekera¡¯s eyes are wild with anxiety, as if she thinks I¡¯ll do the same. I won¡¯t. I¡¯m not on the same level as Lorick. Not anymore at least. I look up expecting to be hit with her wide eyed look, but instead I see her easing herself out of rover. For a moment I consider breaking off something for her to use as a crutch, then I remember that I¡¯m not an action hero, and things don¡¯t work so easily for me. I sling her arm around my shoulder.

    ¡°Thanks,¡± she breathes.

    ¡°Don¡¯t mention it.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll be sure to mention it,¡± she responds. ¡°If I ever get a chance to, you¡¯ll be sure I will. To a whole lot of people, a crowd perhaps. I¡¯ll tell them how much of a hero Kallix Rane is, and how he saved my life. How I owe him everything that somebody can possibly owe.¡±

    Her words are strained. I can tell she¡¯s speaking to keep her mind off the pain as we shamble onwards through the desert. I don¡¯t want her to stop.

    ¡°I¡¯ll tell them,¡± she pants. ¡°How you¡¯re¡­ like a lemon. Most people recoil at first taste, and very few even try to indulge themselves. However, with the right people, people who actually enjoy the zeal and the edginess, and appreciate that they get something different, something raw, something real, unlike the other, human tailored fruits¡­ all the apples, bananas, pears and oranges and whatever.¡±

    With every two steps we take, we slide back one. The Dunes are all I can see for endless reaches in all directions. It¡¯s bigger than the ocean. Sand has filled my shoes to the brim and my shirt is stuck to me like a perfectly drawn outline. My hair falls in wet tangled strands over my eyes, obstructing half my view. Sekera grows heavier with every step and she contributes less and less to our movement. Her eyelids flutter and her breaths have been reduced to sharp hisses of pain. We stop for rests but can¡¯t stay for too long on one point before the sand burns us. Lorick has ceased from a tiny speck in the distance to nothing at all. The sun has gone from scorching straight towards my eyes to bleating at us directly overhead. Our rest breaks grow more and more frequent and last for longer.

    ¡°We need water,¡± she rasps, her head lolling back as she slumps against the shadiest part of the dune we could find.

    ¡°Want to drink my piss?¡± I reply, not entirely sarcastic.

    ¡°Starting to think about it,¡± she says. Her lips twitch, but it doesn¡¯t nearly form a smile. We trek on.

    There¡¯s no moisture left in my mouth. She can no longer put any pressure on her bad leg. I¡¯m lightheaded, my strength is beginning to fail, and mirages taunt me in the distance. Still we see no sign of the city in the distance. We¡¯re probably headed the wrong way. We¡¯ve probably already walked past the city thanks to Lorick¡¯s terrible calculations. What a reason to die.

    The day has now turned from high noon, to swelteringly hot mid-afternoon. Perhaps it¡¯s half a day cooler. I¡¯m glad I¡¯ve got long hair, which protects my neck from sunburn, but the backs of my arms, cheeks and forearms don¡¯t have such a luxury.

    Breathing tastes like drinking sand.

    Moving feels like there¡¯s smoke within my joints.

    Existence is like there¡¯s fire under my skin.

    And then Sekera just slips from me.

    At first I think that I¡¯ve dropped her, but then I realize that she¡¯s gone completely unconscious. I drop to my knees. ¡°Sekera,¡± I rasp, rolling her onto her back.

    Blood loss? Dehydration? Heat stroke? Probably all three.

    ¡°Sekera,¡± I try again, gently shaking her head. She doesn¡¯t respond. I press two fingers to her neck. She¡¯s alive. Barely. I can¡¯t lose her too. I won¡¯t god damn lose her too.

    I try to speak again, to encourage her to push on, but only hoarse wheezes escape my swollen, parched throat. How far are we?

    I stand up and am instantly hit by a wave of lightheadedness. It takes me a few moments to blink away the dizziness. How far away am I from collapsing like her? I¡¯m unsure whether I should untie Rieka¡¯s hoodie and drape it over her to protect her from the sun, or if that will just make her overheat more. I trudge, waveringly up the rest of the dune. At first, the horizon seems to be just another in a long serious of repetitive orange brown paintings, except this time there¡¯s something different. A taint in the image. An imperfection in the masterpiece.

    In the distance, I can barely make out the figure of what is unmistakably the city. A cry of relieve escapes my throat, though it sounds like a clarinet plaid with a split reed. We¡¯re on the right track. It¡¯s just around a hundred miles ahead of us. And we¡¯ve got no water. And Sekera¡¯s got a head stroke, and blood loss and dehydration. I¡¯m probably about to get the latter two as well.

    I skid back down the slope to Sekera, wincing at the sight of her normally pale skin having turned to an ugly red pink. I shake her again. She doesn¡¯t move.

    Damnit. How far is it really? Can I make it? I think I could if I moved quickly. I might be able to reach before I pass out. If I drag her? Eventually she would wake up¡­ right? Would we be able to reach it together? Probably not. There¡¯s no way I¡¯m leaving her though. I¡¯ve left enough people in my life. That¡¯s ruled out, I can¡¯t leave her. So how am I supposed to get her there? If I drag her, neither of us will make it. I probably can¡¯t even drag her up this dune. We both die, either way. We die slowly and probably consciously. I¡¯m not giving her quick mercy. No way in hell. Leaving her results in her dying, so that¡¯s not an option. Staying with her results in both of us dying. Not an option either. So I¡¯ve got zero options, not two. Great.

    I sit down next to her and give her another shake. To no surprise, she doesn¡¯t respond. A fresh, red blood welts around her bandage. Great. Utterly fantastic. I shake her, more violently this time. Wake the damn hell up you crazy bitch!

    No, you know what? Screw this.

    I get to my feet, forcing my way through the lightheadedness and grab her by the armpits. I drag. I pull with whatever small shreds of energy I¡¯ve got left, but I barely move. The sand provides little to no traction, so as I pull, sand gives way and I slide back down. Screw that. Just pull harder, damn bastard.

    So I do. I pull pour every muscle in my body into pulling her. I drag and scrabble, grunt and heave until I can no longer move any further, and a tsunami of lightheadedness crashes into me. I collapse on my side and slide a meter back down. I haven¡¯t yet reached the top of the dune.

    Sekera! Sekera wake the hell up!

    I¡¯m back to two options. Neither of them are good. I break it down into simple terms to get my damn primitive brain to understand. In one scenario, both of us die. In the other, one of us dies and one of us possibly lives. That makes the decision easy. Problem is, I¡¯m not leaving her. Never in hell would I be able to live with myself if I left her hear and now.

    What is the culmination of evolution? Sharks.

    What¡¯s a shark¡¯s number one priority? Survive.

    Am I still a shark? Not a very good one.

    Is it bad? Am I a bad person if I leave Sekera to die a slow death in the desert? I look up to the baby-blue sky and wonder if there¡¯s a god. If you exist, what do you think? Is it bad? Huh? No response. Alright.

    Rather than making a decision, I realize that I¡¯ve got three decisions. I go with the third unconsciously, which results in me waiting on the side of a dune for a real decision to pop into my mind. Every moment I waste, our bodies lose a drop of water. Every passing second, our imminent deaths draw close. The faster I act, the faster I can change it.

    Damnit. Screw life. Screw this shit. The facts are straight. I¡¯ve got one choice. It¡¯s a simple one. It¡¯s the only one. I¡¯ve got to do it.

    If judgement day arrives then I might just be¡­no, screw that too.

 2.11 This is Weird

    11

    In my dreams I¡¯m a hyena, prowling through the proud savanna grass. The golden and purple sky painted by the setting sun, casts dappled shadows over my striped pelt. My gate is slow and purposeful. My short, limping strides carry me steadily to my prize. A soft, sweet, almost sickly smell prances between my nostrils luring my on like a moth to a flame. My growling stomach is my compass, and my body is but a sail.

    I no longer wince as my bloodied paw, so caked in dirt that the thorn can¡¯t be seen, embedded between my toes. The mange along my legs begs me to gnaw it, to tear it open and feel the satisfying pain as my own blood stains my yellow teeth and the diseases that have killed so many of my ancestors invite themselves inside me. I resist, not because I¡¯m strong, but rather because my hunger has overrode all systems in my corroded, stringy body.

    My tongue is torn and lies like a beached whale over my bone crushers. My jaw hangs open and drool drips from between my cracked, jagged flesh tearers. It leaves a subtle, spotted tarnish on the parched soil, telling my packmates of my route. I rather the taste of my own blood in my mouth than the scorched dryness and aftertaste of marrow.

    The wound that stretches across my flank is pulled and yanked by my lope, unallowed to heal. A wound, dealt by my own sister over the remains of a buffalo shoulder joint, already stripped bare of any flesh, blood or cartilage. The absence of rain in the savanna means the absence of soul in the body.

    But the flame of my primal urges flicker within my chest, so I draw onwards. The crepuscular light hides my color. My approach is quieter that the summer wind. It won¡¯t see me coming. Despite my injuries, it¡¯s death will be quick.

    The lion is the greatest. It is powerful, it is strong, and it is prideful.

    The cheetah is the fastest. It is sleek, it is quick and it is elegant.

    The leopard is the craftiest. It is stealthy, it is agile and it is deadly.

    The wild dog is the kindest. It is compassionate, it is effective and it is precise.

    The hyena however, is none of those.

    The tall hair down my back fights against the grass for supremacy. A tiny glimpse of a hint that I approach. But my prey does not fidget. It doesn¡¯t skitter. It isn¡¯t alert. My prey has no beating heart to flee from the scourge that limps towards it, hidden in a cowl, stitched from penumbral shadows. I see it, hiding beneath the fraud safety of an acacia tree.

    A lion would sniff it, turn away, fearful of the disease it might contract.

    A leopard would drag its kill up a different tree.

    A cheetah would guide its pups to a different place to play.

    A wild dog would lead bring a safer meal for its elders.

    I am none of them.

    Rotten flesh mixes with my own blood in my mouth but stays there for little more than an instant before it glides down my parched throat. My teeth puncture its tattered skin, crush it¡¯s bones like twigs and barely bother to mash it before I swallow.

    I turn away from the grey green stain on the dry soil. It¡¯s time to head back for my grueling, unforgiving clan.

    We hyenas require massive groups to take down a single buffalo. We prefer to scavenge whenever we can. We¡¯re slower than a cheetah. We¡¯re weaker than a lion. We haven¡¯t half the skills of a leopard. Our packs are crude and malfunctioning, unlike the wild dog. Yet all of them, the lion, the cheetah, the leopard and the wild dog are all endangered. Only the hyena population thrives with abundance.

    Soon, we will be the only ones left, and that¡¯s not just by evolutionary chance.

    ~

    ¡°Are you sure you don¡¯t want me to drop you off at your home?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, here is fine.¡±

    ¡°Really? It¡¯s pretty late and it looks like it might rain,¡± the journalist rolls down his window and looks up at the smoggy night sky.

    ¡°It¡¯s no problem, honestly,¡± I tell her. My voice hasn¡¯t recovered yet and remains sounding like overused sandpaper against a pebble.

    ¡°Hey, you never told me why you were out in the Dunes all alone anyway. You probably would¡¯ve died if I hadn¡¯t come along. I could drive you to the hospital if you want,¡± he offers, genuinely.

    I crack the door open before the van has halted completely and slide out onto the grimy, wet street. My skin feels like burning cellophane wrapped too tightly around me. ¡°Thanks.¡±

    ¡°Alright kid. You¡¯ve got the card, right? When you feel like opening up about your story, just call the number. The address is on the back too, in case.¡±

    I nod, looking at him from between strands of my ever growing hair. I read THE WESTERN printed in big red letters across the van as it drives away. Shitty name.

    I inhale, long and slow. The familiar factory produced fumes dance elegantly down my esophagus.

    Why the hell didn¡¯t I take the ride to the hospital?

    I sigh, shove my hands into my pockets and start to walk.  My steps distort the perfectly still, murky puddles that twinkle under the beams of the streetlights. Should I visit her? Would she even want me there? Probably not. Thank whatever the hell for that damned journalist. I¡¯m glad I didn¡¯t have to make that decision. I¡¯m pissed off that I did.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

    A car vrooms past me, spraying me with muddy curb water. I barely flinch.

    As I walk, I watch the arms of Rieka¡¯s hoodie dangling against my thighs, occasionally glancing up to see where I¡¯m headed. I¡¯ve got no energy to climb or to run. I¡¯m too damn tired. Damn. Since when is Kallix Rane exhausted?

    Eventually, the ever-gloomy atmosphere forces me to slide my shades off my eyes and hang them on my shirt. Let the world see my red rimmed, bloodshot eyes. I catch the figure of somebody ahead of me, slumped in the shadows. I hang my head low, burry my hands deeper into my pockets and walk by him.

    Where am I going?

    Not really sure.

    The hospital, right?

    Glorified prison cell. Yeah no. Not there.

    Then? A club? Haven¡¯t got half the energy to party.

    Then a nice curb. I can curl up and sleep. Maybe I¡¯ll wake up with some energy and motivation.

    Ravven is still out there. Why don¡¯t you try and infiltrate the Raven¡¯s Nest on your own?

    Suicide? Not yet. Not any time soon. Maybe when I¡¯m in my mid twenties, but not as a teenager. I like being sixteen. I want to be able to feel remorse for not living my sixteenth year to it¡¯s fullest.

    Blaring headlights of a car blind me as it turns onto this road. I hold up a hand to shield my eyes, mentally relaxing so the spray of curb water doesn¡¯t startle me.

    Instead, the car slows to a halt in front of me. The lights disappear and I hear a door click open.

    ¡°Kallix?¡± somebody asks. His voice is softer than his tall, broad shouldered appearance would tell you. His goatee¡¯s been trimmed to perfection once again. His badge glints off the streetlight.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± I sigh, gnawing on the side of my thumb nail.

    ¡°What¡­ what are you doing? What happened? You look burnt,¡± he rattles, as if seeing me is too much for him to handle. It probably is. Seeing him should be too much for me, but I haven¡¯t the energy to feel that way.

    ¡°Seems so,¡± I tell him.

    His brow furrows. ¡°Where did you go?¡±

    ¡°The Dunes.¡±

    ¡°The Dunes?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a long story.¡±

    ¡°We need to get you to a hospital.¡± He reaches for me, but I swat him away.

    His look is the same as my dad¡¯s when I broke my bedside lamp. The first time.

    ¡°I think you know me well enough not to try,¡± I tell him.

    He sighs. ¡°Yeah.¡± He walks back to his police car, then halts at the open door. He looks back at me. ¡°You look half starved. At least let my buy you a decent meal. Plus, there¡¯s a lot of messed up shit I¡¯ve got to tell you.¡±

    As if on que, my stomach growls like a hyena. I¡¯m too hungry to resist.

    ~

    I poke at the food on my plate. ¡°The hell is this?¡± I ask, staring suspiciously at the unpleasant looking cylinders of green white and pink. I prod at it clumsily with one of two metal pencil like thing in my hands.

    ¡°It¡¯s sushi,¡± Kaloaan explains, holding one elegantly with the weird sticks. He dips it in a dark sauce and wolfs it down.

    We sit at a glass high table against the wall of his apartment. It¡¯s been whipped back into shape since I last saw it and is crisply clean as usual. An artificial fire flickers in the chimney, warming the atmosphere around us. It¡¯s still pitch black outside, but the city is still wide awake.

    I raise an eyebrow. I don¡¯t need to touch it to know that it¡¯s cold. Majority of the meals I¡¯ve eaten have been cold, but none of those have been in Kaloaan¡¯s house.

    ¡°Just eat it. It¡¯s good,¡± my brother tells me between mouthfuls.

    I pick on up tentatively and place it in my mouth. To my surprise, the concoctions of flavors tickle my tongue and I soon find myself scoffing down more. ¡°What¡¯s in it?¡± I ask with a mouth full of sushi.

    ¡°The pink stuff? Salmon. The synthetic remakes are getting better, aren¡¯t they?¡±

    I nod, glugging down some water.

    ¡°So Kallix,¡± Kaloaan begins, wiping his mouth.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I blurt.

    ¡°Never mind that,¡± he dismisses with the wave of his hand. ¡°This Qiara figure¡­¡±

    ¡°More deaths?¡± I ask.

    He nods gravely. ¡°A lot.¡±

    I take a moment to chew, holding his eye contact.

    ¡°My best officer, Heller Tash went undercover. He managed to get Qiara¡¯s kill list, or at least her top five priorities.

    I wipe rise from my lip. ¡°Who are they?¡±

    ¡°Well, the first on the list, Yarvin Jac was just found dead this morning, and the fifth on the list, Utan Valor disappeared this afternoon.¡±

    ¡°Who are the other three?¡±

    Kaloaan stares at his sushi. ¡°Tauren Rekashi, Zorikan and me.¡±

    My jaw goes slack. ¡°Tauren, you and Zorikan?¡± I ask, incredulous.

    ¡°Yeah. I trust Tash with my life, he wasn¡¯t wrong.¡±

    My damn god. I don¡¯t even know what to make of this. ¡°Sh¡­shouldn¡¯t you be at the¡­ police station?¡±

    Kaloaan cracks a smile. ¡°So you do care.¡±

    I grimace. ¡°I¡¯m serious. Qiara¡¯s eliminating people on this list faster than I eat. If all these big figures are dropping like flies, don¡¯t you think you¡¯re in danger?¡±

    ¡°I know how to take care of myself, Kallix,¡± Kaloaan reassures. ¡°My worry is that if Qiara can¡¯t get me, she might come for you. She likes to use bargaining chips, just like that bastard Zorikan.¡±

    I instantly think of Rieka. Damnit. ¡°And Tauren? I¡¯ve got to warn her.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sending out a team to make sure she¡¯s ok at first light, alright?¡±

    I down my water. ¡°Wait, this might be a good thing.¡±

    ¡°Huh?¡±

    ¡°Zorikan¡¯s on the list right?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    ¡°He needs to know!¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°If Zorikan knows, then he¡¯ll be on high alert for Qiara. He won¡¯t give a damn about you. If Qiara attacks Zorikan, he¡¯ll surely retaliate.¡±

    ¡°Get them to fight against each other,¡± Kaloaan says, catching on. ¡°Weaken them both, then take them out.¡±

    ¡°Worst case scenario is a three-way war, which is much better than you vs both of them.¡±

    Kaloaan claps me heavily on the shoulder. ¡°I wish I could hire you, little bro,¡± he says with a smile.

    I lap up the last of the sushi and push away from the table.

    ¡°Where¡¯re you going?¡± he asks.

    ¡°I¡¯ve¡­ got somewhere to be,¡± I tell him.

    He sets the stacked plates on the counter. ¡°No you don¡¯t. I told you I¡¯m sending out a team to check on Tauren in the morning.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not where I¡¯m headed.¡±

    ¡°Then?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve got a¡­ friend. They¡¯re in the hospital. I want to go see them.¡±

    ¡°No you don¡¯t,¡± Kaloaan tells me. ¡°Firstly, you don¡¯t have many friends, secondly, you¡¯d never willingly go to a hospital and thirdly, they¡¯re probably asleep anyway.¡±

    I glance at the door and then at the slightly ajar window. My muscles relax with the warmth of the artificial fireplace.

    ¡°C¡¯mon, just stay the night,¡± Kaloaan says. ¡°When was the last time you even slept on a bed?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not sleeping in your bed.¡±

    ¡°You know I¡¯ve got a spare room right?¡±

    ¡°Spare room? For what?¡±

    ¡°Well unlike you, I get guests. Plus where would you stay if you ever decided to stop over?¡±

    I swallow.

    ¡°Don¡¯t be such a fuss. Take a shower, I¡¯ve got a dozen creams for you burn, I¡¯ll do the dishes and you can have a night off. The beds already made and I¡¯ve got some of your old video games plus the TV. I know you probably don¡¯t want to use them, but I kept them just in case. You could turn on the music, I¡¯ve got over a thousand songs. There¡¯s bound to be something you like.¡±

    ¡°Ok, ok,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ll stay.¡±

    ¡°Awesome,¡± he says, cheerily. He turns on the tap and commences to scrub the dishes.

    Tentatively, I make my way to the spare room. The floor is carpeted and the walls are painted in a soft blue. The bedframe is wooden and the blanket is whiter than a cloud. There¡¯s a TV mounted on the wall, with some videogames stacked neatly beneath it next to a controller. There¡¯s even a bookshelf, with all sorts of titles I¡¯ve never heard of. Only my brother would have a bookshelf in todays day and age. And you¡¯d think the cop would read murder mysteries and thrillers, but there¡¯s nothing but fantasy and sci-fi titles before me, alongside the occasional cookbook.

    A creeping nostalgia crawls up my spine.

    This is weird.

 2.12: Yeah, I am a Dick

    12

    I awake in a cold sweat. The thick blanket that covers me fails at its purpose, and I shiver. The gunshots from my dream reverberate in my skull. I lean over and switch on the bedside lamp, yawning. It¡¯s still dark outside. It¡¯s been a while since I woke up in a bed.

    As I slide out of bed, I notice my skin feels better. The cream worked.

    I stretch and yawn again. I must¡¯ve slept for three hours. Maybe less. I walk to the window, open it and lean outside. Cold, smoggy city air chills my sweaty neck. Dawn approaches.

    In the corner of the room, I see my clothes, folded neatly in a pile, resting on the sessel. Not sure how I feel about that. My muscles are still sore, but the energy from the dinner courses through me, springing me onto the balls of my feet. I slip into my clothes.

    I don¡¯t want to turn on the lights, so I feel my way to the living room.

    ¡°Shit,¡± I hiss as nearly trip over a duffle bag. I pour myself a glass of water and gratefully glug down my morning breath.

    I pat my pockets. Most people check for their phones, wallets and keys. If one isn¡¯t there, they start to panic. Same for me, except instead of a phone, wallet or key, I pat for my shades and my pills. Both are there.

    Time to go.

    The door is closer, but I still use the window, easing through and inhaling the comforting city air. I scale down the edge of the apartment in a matter of seconds. This is what my body is built for, not dodging bullets and running against the backlash of my own gunfire. My steps make little splashes as I run between the buildings, but there¡¯s nobody awake to hear me.

    Or at least I hope so.

    The police team might be too late, so I¡¯ve got to go myself. I might already be too late. My pace quickens.

    I doubt Tauren would even let me finish a sentence before she shot me. Better me than her isn¡¯t it? No, not really.

    As I run, the sky contorts into a soft, hazy grey. I pass the earliest joggers, eager to get a head start on their day. I pass some crisply dressed men and women, rushing to reach the early railcar to their work. I pass a stoic looking couple, walking a distance apart. The woman holds a tiny, white dog by the leash, which pads forwards excitedly.

    By the time the street is painted with the stripes of light that weave between buildings, I¡¯ve slowed to a walk.

    Maybe I¡¯ll pull something off. Maybe I¡¯ll win Tauren back. Maybe we can go back to being friends again. I haven¡¯t got much in terms of friends right now anyway. Tauren hates me. Salif probably does too. Screw Malyk to hell. Deqar left my ass to rot. Sekera¡¯s¡­ I¡¯ve still got her. I¡¯ve got to hold onto her. She¡¯s special. Crazy, but special. I don¡¯t think there are that many like her anymore.

    Then, I nearly trip over my own feet in surprise as I see him. He¡¯s as shocked as I am.

    Zorikan plows into me shoulder first, knocking me clean off my feet, just as I hear a gunshot, followed by a car siren and screams.

    He rolls off me, scrambling for cover behind a huge lorry. Instinctively, I push myself up and dive after him, barely managing to slide underneath as I hear another gunshot. This one tears my pants at the shin as I pull myself to the other side of the lorry.

    ¡°What the hell was that?¡± I demand, pressing my back to the cool metal side of the truck as another bullet ricochets off the hood.

    ¡°Qiara¡¯s assassins,¡± he pants, looking around wildly for anymore glints in the skyscrapers above us. ¡°Damn coming for me.¡±

    ¡°That bullet was meant for me!¡± I protest, ducking down again when another gunshot rings.

    Zorikan shakes his head. ¡°No, it wasn¡¯t. She wants you alive. She wants a bargaining chip. He looks down the sidewalk and curses.

    I follow his gaze, seeing a man clad in black Kevlar tearing towards us, pistol in hand. If we go under the truck we¡¯re trapped. Time to run.

    I turn on me heel, ready to sprint like hell, when Zorikan¡¯s arm wraps around my neck.

    ¡°Don¡¯t shoot! Stop where you are!¡±

    The assassin halts, pistol raised and trained on us.

    Zorikan hauls me off my feet and grips me in front of him. I¡¯m a damn human shield.

    ¡°Bastard!¡± I hiss, squirming to free myself.

    ¡°Stop moving,¡± Zorikan grits. ¡°He won¡¯t shoot you.¡± He looks over my shoulder. ¡°If you take one step forwards, I¡¯ll break his neck.¡±

    The assassin flinches, and glances at the sniper in the building to our left. This is bad.

    ¡°There¡¯s a manhole behind us,¡± Zorikan whispers into my ear. ¡°I¡¯ve got a pistol. On my signal, you open that damn hole and get in. I¡¯ll cover you.¡±

    I steal a glance. ¡°Are you crazy? It¡¯s exposed!¡±

    ¡°They don¡¯t want you dead!¡± Zorikan hisses, angrily. ¡°The sniper won¡¯t shoot you.¡±

    ¡°Damnit you better be right.¡±

    ¡°Ok. Now!¡± he shouts.

    I fall backwards as he pulls the gun from his waistband and fires. I dive for the manhole, prying it open and scrambling down onto the ladder. I hear the shot of a sniper over the pistols.

    I see Zorikan crumpling like a ragdoll, into the manhole. His limp body hits me, nearly knocking me off the ladder. A moment later I hear a splash.

    Shit.

    I don¡¯t waist any time closing the manhole, but scuttle as fast as I can down the ladder. Rung after rung I move like an insect until my shoes hit water. I drop down. It¡¯s knee deep.

    I move from the splay of light, getting out of the water onto the side path and press myself to the wall. From my position, I see a figure blot out the light.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    ¡°Yeah. Yeah Blitz shot him real good. Dead for sure. Fell down a manhole, he did.¡±

    ¡°Good work. We¡¯ll move on his base this afternoon. That hostage did us well. What about the kid?¡±

    ¡°Little bastard escaped.¡±

    ¡°Escaped?¡±

    ¡°Chill. He went down the manhole. I¡¯ll intercept him at the next opening.¡±

    ¡°And if he goes the other way?¡±

    ¡°Blitz¡¯ll be waiting for him.¡±

    ¡°Ok. Don¡¯t screw this up.¡±

    ¡°Have I ever?¡±

    The mouthpiece buzzes off, and the light disappears all together. He¡¯s gone.

    ¡°Kallix,¡± somebody calls.

    ¡°Zorikan? You¡¯re alive?¡±

    I hear a grunt. ¡°Yeah, but that fall nearly killed me.¡±

    I can make him out, hauling himself onto the side path across from me. ¡°Hell did you fall for if you hadn¡¯t been shot?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not dead, but it¡¯s better if Qiara thinks I am. Get over here, I know the way out.¡±

    My eyes narrow. I slosh across the water to him and step up next to him.

    ¡°Aright look, so the hitman said that he¡¯d intercept us at the-¡±

    My fist collides satisfyingly with his mouth. He staggers back as I kick at his knee with all my force. Not enough to dislocate it.

    I throw another punch at his chest, when he evades. He grabs my outstretched wrist, then rams me into the wall with his shoulder, winding me. His hand shoots out, wrapping around my neck with an iron grip. I can¡¯t breathe.

    ¡°Don¡¯t ever try that again,¡± he growls.

    I kick out, only to hit steel abs.

    His grip tightens, and I can feel my face turning red.

    ¡°I could kill you. Here and now, weapon or not. But I won¡¯t, not because you¡¯re valuable, but because it wouldn¡¯t benefit me. Unless you plan on attacking me again, in which case, I¡¯ll gladly snap your scrawny neck like a twig. Understand?¡±

    My darkened vision has already gone cloudy by the time he releases me. I crumple to the ground, clasping my neck.

    ¡°Let¡¯s move,¡± he orders, striding onwards.

    Damnit, I want to break the bastard¡¯s nose, but my chances are a thousand times better if I¡¯m with him. If one of those assassin¡¯s come for me while he¡¯s not there, I won¡¯t stand a chance.

    I strut after him like an injured hound, bound by a leash to its abusive owner. Every time I think I¡¯m free from the bastard¡­ I¡¯ll screw him over soon enough. ¡°How do you know where we¡¯re going?¡± I ask. It hurts to swallow.

    ¡°There¡¯s no wrong direction. All we need to do is find the first manhole, then go past it.¡±

    ¡°Past it?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. You want to be sniped by that Blitz guy from three block away?¡±

    I catch up to him.

    ¡°Precisely,¡± he concludes, condescendingly.

    ¡°Why were you travelling alone?¡±

    ¡°Supply run.¡±

    ¡°By yourself?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. Numbers are thin nowadays.¡±

    ¡°Qiara?¡±

    Zorikan nods. ¡°She¡¯s killed twelve of us. Another twenty one quit because they were scared they would be next. Poor bastards.¡±

    ¡°Sounds like the smart thing to do. Why were they poor?¡± I laugh, mockingly.

    ¡°Because they don¡¯t know that I¡¯m a worse enemy to have than Qiara.¡±

    ~

    The squeal up ahead makes me flinch. ¡°Damn rats,¡± I spit.

    ¡°Don¡¯t like rats?¡± Zorikan asks. ¡°They¡¯re the kings of the underworld. Just like me.¡±

    I huff. ¡°Seems you¡¯ve been dethroned, buddy. Nobody even knows who the Swifter¡¯s are when Qiara¡¯s in the picture,¡± I want to enjoy the subtle signs of his concern, but there are none. ¡°And your failure at the Raven¡¯s Nest has spread. Your reputation faulters,¡± I lie.

    Zorikan scoffs, ¡°And how would you know that?¡±

    ¡°Been around. Talked to people. Heard rumors.¡±

    The leader of the Swifters sighs. ¡°Kallix, you¡¯re a child of many talents, but lying isn¡¯t one of them.¡±

    ¡°Who said I was lying?¡±

    ¡°The fact that you were drafted to the warzone in the Dunes, and just got back the other day.¡±

    ¡­

    ¡°How did you know that?¡± I ask, instantly thinking of Deqar. He said there was no way Zorikan would ever take him back. Did he escape just to go report to him?

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t Deqar,¡± he says, practically reading my mind ¡°No idea where the measly coward went.¡±

    ¡°He wasn¡¯t a coward,¡± I mutter.

    ¡°You¡¯re right. He was smart. He knew that if he ever set foot in West Side again, I¡¯d kill him. Don¡¯t question my sources, you probably don¡¯t even know them. Actually you¡­¡± he trailed off.

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°The manhole. Next one¡¯s here.¡±

    ¡°Let me guess, you¡¯re sending me up first?¡±

    Zorikan laughs. ¡°You¡¯re smarter than you look. Yeah, get your ass up there.¡±

    ¡°Give me the gun.¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t. Lost it.¡±

    I smack my palm to my forehead. ¡°You¡¯re a bastard.¡±

    ¡°True fact. Now get up.¡±

    My hand¡¯s just touched the ladder when the sound of a gun cocking makes me freeze.

    ¡°Heya, ye little twunt,¡± somebody calls. It doesn¡¯t take me long to figure out who it is. ¡°Oi Blitz, you¡¯ve seen this?¡±

    I can barely make out the assassin, a way¡¯s down the tunnel. The same pistol, decked with a massive silencer is held nonchalantly in his right hand. Blitz, the sniper, is behind us, his lengthy gun slung over his shoulder.

    ¡°Long time no see, Javvak,¡± Zorikan sneers.

    Javvak pads closer to us. ¡°How does it feel¡­ I¡¯m going to be the last person you¡¯ve ever seen in your life?¡±

    Over my shoulder, I see Blitz inching closer to me. When Javvak shoots Zorikan, he¡¯ll pounce on me from behind.

    ¡°Terrible really,¡± Zorikan tells him. ¡°To think, all those days in grade school, when I used to pull your panties up to your chin¡­ never thought it¡¯d end up like this.¡± He¡¯s trying to stall.

    ¡°Can¡¯t blame you really,¡± Javvak says. ¡°I was a pretty annoying kid. Smart too.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s this? You¡¯re third attempt to kill me?¡±

    ¡°Crazy isn¡¯t it? Blitz almost got you last time. Oh by the way, those other twunts. Gaven, Slew, Utrona and that girl with the dreads. A pretty shitty squad you sent to stop me. I¡¯m offended actually.¡±

    ¡°You killed the lot of them?¡±

    ¡°Sure did. Blitz got that Gaven bastard, though.¡±

    He¡¯s trying to emotionally torment Zorikan, trying to rub his victory into the Swifter¡¯s face and demolish his ego before he kills him. Little does he know that Zorikan is less emotional than a shark.

    The Swifter chuckles. ¡°And your friend? The burly redhead? What was his name? Crag? Craig?¡±

    ¡°Crog.¡±

    ¡°His head made a beautiful ornament for my chamber. The way dried flakes of blood float down onto me while I sleep¡­ it¡¯s poetic.¡±

    Javvak looks disturbed. ¡°Yeah, alright if I didn¡¯t want to kill you before, I sure do now.¡± He presses the end of the silencer to Zorikan¡¯s forehead.

    I can feel Blitz breathing down my neck. Damnit Zorikan needs do something quickly. Thought I left all the shootouts in the Dunes.

    ¡°So¡­ you going to count down from three? Up to three? What¡¯s it gonna be? Mind if I choose?¡±

    ¡°No way in hell I¡¯m going to give you the liberty of choosing that,¡± Javvak scoffs. ¡°Before I splatter your brains all over the little runt, I want you to know that your dying as a helpless, pitiful, powerless rat, sulking in the sewers.¡±

    Zorikan smiles. A hollow, stone chiseled smile. ¡°Pull the trigger then.¡±

    Javvak¡¯s face contorts into an unstable grin. ¡°It¡¯ll be my pleasure.¡±

    I struggle to follow the speed that the Swifter¡¯s arms move as he pushes the barrel away from his head with one arm, while grabbing Javvak¡¯s wrist with the other. The bullet ricochets off the sewer wall. He surges forwards, headbutting the assassin with enough force to break his nose.

    I hear the crack as I dive forwards, barely escaping Blitz¡¯s grasp, and roll to my feet. The gun¡¯s skittered into the water.

    I see Zorikan duck under a blow and plow into Javvak, practically tossing him into the water as Blitz lunges forwards, grabbing my ankle. I curse as he yanks my feet from beneath me. Zorikan turns and launches a solid kick at Blitz¡¯s gut, winding the sniper.

    I scramble for the ladder, when Javvak erupts from the water. The leader of the Swifter¡¯s leaps into the air, and like a martial artist he spins, kicking Javvak solidly in the head, nearly making his neck snap.

    Just as he lands, Blitz has charged towards him, ramming his shoulder into Zorikan¡¯s ribcage and slamming him to the wall, probably breaking one of his ribs. I don¡¯t waste any time, scuttling up the ladder like a cockroach.

    Beneath me, Zorikan¡¯s wrapped one of his legs around Blitz¡¯s neck, midair and brought them both to the ground. I catch Javvak pulling himself from the water again when I reach the manhole.

    I push the heavy metal disc off and am nearly blinded by the afternoon light. Damn thanks there¡¯s no traffic.

    As I slide out, I see Zorikan hauling himself up the ladder. Screw the twunt. He thinks he can screw with me? He¡¯s no damn god.

    I take the manhole cover and slide it back over place, get to my feet and stand on it. The he presses upwards with unimaginable strength, almost throwing me off. I remember that he¡¯s broken a rib as I kneel down, jolting as he tries desperately to escape.

    Blitz or Javvak managed to get back up to him at last, because the movement stops. Whatever happened, somebody died. I don¡¯t dare take open the manhole to see. I sprint like hell down the deserted street, running for my damn life. If Zorikan survives this and finds me again, he sure as hell will kill me this time.

 2.13: Splintered Mirror

    13

    I stare at myself in the cracked mirror I hauled from the dumpster. My black nylon t-shirt¡¯s torn across the chest and smells like sewer. I pull it over my head and toss it in the dumpster.

    The waning sunlight makes elongates my shadow before me. My ego compared to myself.

    I look myself over and cringe at what I see. My hair¡¯s become lighter from all the sunlight, and is far too long, sticking out at all sorts of ungodly angles. Maybe I should cut it? Ha! Hell no, screw that. I¡¯ll saw it off once it reaches my waist. My face is impossibly leaner than it was before, with my cheeks becoming constantly hollower and my jawline sharper. Not to flatter myself, of course. My collar bones are sticking out, and I can see my ribs towards the center of my chest. My entire torso is littered with purple-black bruises and red scratch marks from the scuffle in the sewers. I lift my veiny left forearm, examining the wormy scar that snakes down from my wrist to the bottom of my elbow. I roll my shoulders, but wince. The right one aches from when I rolled sloppily after leaping off a building like the dumbass I am. My pelvis pokes out above the waistband of my stained military trousers, and my skin curves sharply towards my obliques. My abs are defined, not because of my muscle mass, but because of how skinny I¡¯ve become. Sorry, how skinny I¡¯ve always been.

    I scratch my nose, and run my hand over my bony face, down my long, thin neck, over my collarbones and down my chest. My eyes crinkle.

    Didn¡¯t they say that being drawn into the addictive tropes of modern day society would ruin you? How avoiding attention span slaughtering social media would help you? How not spending ten hours a day on a screen would benefit you? How keeping physically active would keep you mentally happy? What the freaking hell, how on earth is this supposed to work?

    I look at my raggedy self in the mirror and slam my fist into it, splintering shards onto the ground. The system ruins people. It makes the depressed sheep, slopping to societal needs that make no sense to them. I dodged that. I followed myself, my own instincts. I do what I want to, when I want to. Why the hell am I so damn¡­

    Shit.

    I snort and shake my head like a bull. Pull yourself together Kallix.

    I used to break down every once in a while. I used to have friends to break down into. I always had Tauren, but she hates my guts. At least I¡¯ve got my guts. Hers are probably lying on the floor.

    Now I¡¯m about to break down every other day. It¡¯s like I¡¯m permanently on the verge of tears. I¡¯m not one of those soppy angsty teenage kids claiming their depressed and¡¯ve got anxiety. I don¡¯t know what¡¯s happened to me.

    I had Salif too, a while back. He used to be cool.

    I remember this other girl, when I was thirteen and she was twelve, called Yanika. Tiny little girl, who ran away from her home just like I did. Both of our first years on the streets. Both of us struggling to survive, from rummaging through dumpsters, getting chased by cops and escaping into any crevice we could find. Some days it was like in the movies, where we¡¯d tell each other stories, make up games to play with bottle caps we¡¯d find, pull pranks on the rich kids in the schools. Some days it was fun. Some days¡­ I was happy. Most days though, were more like me patting her back as she threw up onto the floor after eating something a bit too far past the expiration date, or her stitching my thigh back together using a thread she pulled from her one and only shirt.

    I remember her transition, from the mushroom haired teeny girl with knobby knees, wearing a muddy pink skirt who shrunk behind the trashcans every time an adult walked by. She could watch an ant crawl on her hand for hours and would bawl her eyes out if somebody stepped on one. After just a year on the streets, I saw her morph. Her face hollowed out as she lost the chubby cheeks of her mother¡¯s hugs. Her knees were permanently red from scrapes, and her mushroom hair had turned into long, wild light brown locks. Her eyes had gone from the eyes of a faun to those of a magpie. I loved it. I think¡­ maybe I loved her. If I¡¯m even capable of that. Maybe thirteen year old me was.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    I think maybe everybody is born like a plastic bag with some water inside it, being carried by someone. The water¡¯s everything good we¡¯ve got. Whoever¡¯s carrying the bag sloshes it around a lot, because by the time we really get anywhere, there¡¯s not much left inside. Sometimes, our bags get jabbed, or slit or sometimes torn open. Some of us have got leaks, where the goodness just kind of drips out. The more and more we get slashed, the quicker we lose the water. Soon enough, we¡¯d just be a couple shreds of damp plastic, with a drying trail of droplets behind us.

    Things like this, like when the little girl, Yanika died the day before her thirteenth birthday, were deep gashes for me. I think I lost a lot of my water that day. And then as the time wears on, you realize a couple things that just start to make the tear worse. She didn¡¯t die in my arms, like in a tragic movie ending. I just found her like that. She was already cold. Her eyes were still open.

    Nobody knew she¡¯d died. I don¡¯t think anybody really knew her anyway. I couldn¡¯t hold a funeral or anything like that because there was nobody to come to it. I couldn¡¯t burry her, because there simply was nowhere to do it, so I just left. I stabbed my own heart repeatedly with my serpentine words for years because of it, until I realized that it wouldn¡¯t do anything for her. It doesn¡¯t make me a bad person because I left her. I know that. At least, I think I do. But it still doesn¡¯t stop my bitch of a mind for hating myself even more.

    I sometimes think of the plans we made. About how we¡¯d start a band together, where she would sing, and I would play the guitar we¡¯d found. We¡¯d perform at restaurants and people would be so amazed at our talent because we were so young, that we¡¯d become millionaire prodigies overnight. I wanted to build the biggest climbing park ever in history with my share of the money. She wanted to make sure nobody ever went to bed hungry again, and that every child got a present on their birthday.

    Less than three years have passed since that day. In those three years I¡¯ve had all the meaningless sex in the world. Done a thousand different drugs, drank twice as many different drinks. I¡¯ve done the most incredible parkour, pulled off the craziest of stunts and met the most amazing people. None of it seems to do anything. None of it seems to help me.

    Ok then. I¡¯m a lost cause.

    Great.

    Let¡¯s try a new strategy then.

    ¡°Fuck you Kallix!¡± I suddenly bellow.

    I blink, surprised at the force that came out of my throat. Woah.

    Ok. Ok maybe that makes sense. I¡¯ve got everything I could possibly want, I think, but other people don¡¯t. Maybe if I help those other people, I¡¯ll help myself. Ok that also makes sense. So, where do I start?

    That bastard Ravven¡¯s got to go.

    Zorikan too, but later.

    Qiara obviously.

    I sigh and attempt in vain to run my hands through my tangled hair. ¡°One night,¡± I say aloud. ¡°One night of screwing around. Tomorrow I¡¯ll set to work. I¡¯ll make things right. I¡¯ll screw up everybody and I¡¯ll do it without killing anyone Tomorrow all this shit starts. For real.¡±

    Perfect.

    Now I¡¯ve just got to enjoy the night.

    ~

    I slide my feet across the floor in a drunken movement that can barely be classified as a dance. The electronic beats reverberate through my skull and the lights flash epileptically around me.

    I stagger backwards, knocking a drink from a girl¡¯s hand. She¡¯s painted with makeup, with the features of a model and the slim curves of a porn star. She wears a tiny black dress that barely reaches her thighs, and black heels.

    ¡°Hey rugged,¡± she says, stepping over her spilt drink.

    I don¡¯t care. I don¡¯t give a shit. I grab one of her tits, and she gives a look of pretend shock before leaning into me and kissing me. Her lips are soft and perfect. I grab her hips and pull her closer, softly biting her tongue.

    She takes my hand and leads me off to a room. I can barely even process what¡¯s happening as I stumble after her, driven by my pulsing dick. She lets herself fall onto the bed, like a flower dropped onto a freshly trimmed lawn. The room is throbbing with kaleidoscope patterns as I move on top of her, ready to unleash the wolf within me.

    Then suddenly I feel a piercing in my arm. Another drug? Probably. Who cares if I overdose, because I don¡¯t. I grab her thighs and pull them apart, seeing her smile widen. I hold her shoulders and ram into her, thrusting my still clothed waist against hers. Her body smudges, and the colors smear across the ceiling. Vapor floods into my skull, clouding my vision, and I sink into her.

    The room around me closes in, like the maw of a shark and everything becomes darker.

    The last thing I see is the calligraphic tattoo on her neck.

    I can¡¯t even respond as I read the unmistakable name.

    Qiara.

 3.1: Why Is Everything Moving So Fast?

    1

    The first pain I register surprisingly isn¡¯t my skull feeling like it¡¯s being raped by a hammer and chisel, but my wrists feeling like someone¡¯s sawed through my tendons with a freaking rusty metal pole.

    First, I do the logical thing that anybody would do; open my eyes. The problem that arises is that after I do that, I¡¯m not sure if I¡¯ve actually done it. I try again, and the same pitch-black paint covers my vision. Ok, so that didn¡¯t help. The next natural response of mine is to reach for my pills, but when I move my right arm, I hear the clunk of something heavy and metal. Alright, so my arms are shackled above me, and it feels like they¡¯re going to be torn off from my shoulder sockets. My kneecaps nearly splinter when I try and move from the stone hard floor that¡¯s nearly as cold as Zorikan¡¯s soul. Can¡¯t see. Can¡¯t move. Everything hurts. Dandy new beginning then, isn¡¯t it?

    ¡°He moved. I think he¡¯s awake,¡± I hear. A cynical, nasal voice that instantly makes me think a doctor. Or a teacher. Maybe it¡¯s a doctor teacher.

    ¡°Wait here, you¡¯ll freak him out. I¡¯ll go in and talk to him. We might stand a chance at reasoning with him.¡± Hold on, I know that voice. Smooth, feminine, and deep yet elegant.

    ¡°Reason? You want to reason with this rapid monkey?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, it can be done. Now shut up and run some tests or whatever it is you¡¯re supposed to do.¡±

    I hear a door open. The absence of a creak means its well-oiled, so why the hell are these shackles so rusty? Which bastard oils a door hinge to a room with shackles that feel like they held medieval knights before?

    ¡°Hey, Kallix? How¡¯re you feeling?¡±

    ¡°Lights?¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    The pitch blackness has suddenly been replaced by a scintillating brightness, so shrill that I can see less than I could before. ¡°Turn them off.¡±

    The lights flick off.

    ¡°Not that off. Slightly off, so I can see.¡±

    ¡°Sorry, Kal. Can¡¯t really do that.¡±

    ¡°The hell did you bring me here for? And why you? Could¡¯ve sworn I¡¯d been captured by that bitch Qiara, and if I recall correctly, that¡¯s not your name.¡±

    ¡°No, it isn¡¯t.¡±

    My eyes finally begin to adjust, and her unmistakable squatting figure comes into a fuzzy reality. Thought I¡¯d never see her again. I thought I¡¯d left that chapter of my life behind. Usually when I run away from my problems, it fixes things, but it seems that this one ran after me. ¡°Why¡¯ve you done this, Amethyst?¡±

    ¡°This¡­ might be hard for you to hear, Kallix, but you¡¯ve got to let me explain.¡±

    ¡°You work for her?¡± I deduce, incredulously.

    ¡°No¡­ wait, let me explain.¡±

    ¡°Explain? This whole damn time, you¡¯ve been with her? What in the god damn world Amethyst! Was all that shit you told me a lie? All of it? Was Blax with her too, and you¡¯ve let him go on to do his own bull shit because you¡¯re just a lying little bitch!¡±

    Amethyst flinches at the accusations. ¡°No. Blax is dead.¡±

    ¡°Then? Have you already killed my brother too? He¡¯s on the damn kill list, you know that, right? Am I there too? Is that why you brought me here? Or was it to be bait to lure him here, that sounds like something you¡¯d do,¡± I spit.

    ¡°Stop, Kallix. Be logical. If I wanted you dead, I would¡¯ve killed you a long time ago. And I work with Qiara, not for her. And if you even know me at all, then you¡¯d know that there¡¯s a reason for it.¡±

    ¡°Huh? So you can get rich and no longer have to worry about all your childhood problems, drown yourself in god knows what kind of drugs and forget about everything? Forget about all the shitty things you¡¯ve done? Forget about how many people you¡¯ve killed with the claim that you¡¯re doing the logical thing, or being pragmatic?¡±

    Amethyst gazes evenly at me. ¡°Unlike you, I don¡¯t just have my own interests in mind. You can¡¯t think of the time before Bansilin, because you were still in grade school. You didn¡¯t witness people obsessing, craving, and pouring their wallets, minds, family and souls into stronger, deadlier drugs. Cocaine, heroin, bath salts and flakka, to name a few. Those drugs ruined people, physically, mentally, and financially. West Side was already in an epidemic long before Bansilin came along, but when somebody tried to create a drug that wouldn¡¯t ruin the society like all the others, the media found a nice little way to blame everything on it.¡±

    ¡°Bansilin destroys people,¡± I say, hoarsely. ¡°You¡¯ve just never seen it, first-hand.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t be so quick to assume,¡± she snaps.

    ¡°Oh, and I guess that all the cash from selling to school kids¡¯ mothers and fathers is a nice plus, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°What do you think I¡¯m doing with that money? What the god damn hell do you think? I¡¯m donating it, all of it. To the homeless funds, to the anticorruption agencies and anything else I possibly could. I joined the military so that I could give myself an additional purpose and wouldn¡¯t be tempted to indulge myself with everything I had. I¡¯m not wicked, and I¡¯m not trying to ruin people¡¯s families. I discovered a lesser of two evils, so I¡¯m trying to keep it in power, while using the side benefits to help other causes.¡±

    I¡¯m blank minded, panting and in a vile mix of shock and pain.

    ¡°I don¡¯t expect you to understand. Afterall, a street dog doesn¡¯t know why it needs to go to a kennel, and what can become of it afterwards.¡±

    I cough. ¡°Fine. You win. Let me out of these damn chains. I¡¯ll freaking call Kaloaan over here, you can have him. Kill him, I don¡¯t give a damn.¡±Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    Amethyst sighs. ¡°That¡¯s not why I¡¯ve you¡¯re here.¡±

    ¡°Hey,¡± calls the nasal voiced doctor teacher. He peeps through the door, and his bald, large nosed and eared, spectacle wearing figure matches the perfect sculpture in my imagination. ¡°Amy, we got to hurry it up. If you can¡¯t get him to cooperate, then I will.¡±

    ¡°Hold on, Sarkin,¡± Amethyst snaps.

    Sarkin chuckles and disappears behind the door.

    ¡°You take these chains off me, I could slip through the door and take him out. You could kill him too, if you wanna,¡± I offer.

    ¡°You¡¯ve got no idea how much I want to, but I can¡¯t do that right now.¡±

    ¡°Why not?¡±

    ¡°Because I¡¯ve got a job to do.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure you could do it better without him.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ a good point.¡±

    ¡°So why don¡¯t we get rid of him?¡±

    ¡°Because I¡¯m not top dog, ok? A lone wolf wouldn¡¯t understand that,¡± she tells me softly as she stands up to leave.

    ¡°Ok, look, look, look,¡± I hiss in a hushed tone. ¡°Just loosen these cuffs for me, ok? I¡¯ll break out myself and take care of Sarkpin or whatever his name is. Top dog won¡¯t know it¡¯s you.¡± I desperately try to hide the disgust on my face. I can¡¯t even say Qiara¡¯s name. ¡°You don¡¯t want to do¡­ whatever it is you¡¯re trying to do¡­ on me, right? I mean, you¡¯re just trying to kill two birds with one stone here, and I¡¯d rather be the stone than one of the birds.¡±

    Amethyst looks at me over her shoulder. ¡°What are you implying?¡±

    ¡°Let me bust out of here. We¡¯ll make it look like it wasn¡¯t your fault, and I¡¯ll get someone¡­ better, to take my place.¡±

    ¡°See that¡¯s the thing. You¡¯re the best one.¡±

    ¡°No¡­ I¡¯m not. You know that. I can¡¯t be.¡±

    ¡°Just relax, it will be over soon.¡±

    ¡°Hey! Hey wait!¡± I holler as she exits, gently shutting the door behind her. ¡°What about Blax! What about the kids! Don¡¯t you want to help them!¡±

    There¡¯s no response, and I¡¯m left alone in my steely cold darkness. God damn¡­ why didn¡¯t I just go to Sekera? I could¡¯ve been with her in the hospital right now, playing¡­ boardgames or something.

    A beam of light sweeps over me as the door opens again. Too bad, I wasn¡¯t alone long enough to delve into one of my famous self-loathing monologues. Maybe next time.

    ¡°Alright, ye little twunt,¡± says the unmistakably lisped voice of Sarkin. ¡°You can¡¯t see it right now, but I¡¯m holding a very loaded gun, and I¡¯ll blow your brains out onto the wall if you don¡¯t cooperate, alright?¡±

    ¡°No you won¡¯t. If I was so invaluable to you, I¡¯d be dead already. You need me for whatever experiment shit you¡¯re going to pull, so killing me is out of the picture.¡±

    ¡°Well¡­¡±

    ¡°And if killing me isn¡¯t and option, then you don¡¯t need the gun at all. You can just tuck it away, and I¡¯ll know that you have it. That¡¯s threat enough, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°Um¡­ no. I think I¡¯ll keep it pointed right at you,¡± he decides.

    I hear a jingle of keys, and my left wrist comes loose. I don¡¯t waist a millisecond, lunging forwards as far as I can and grabbing the barrel of the gun, pointing it away from me. Turns out I was wrong about him not shooting me.

    The bullet ricochets off the wall, hits the door and drives straight through his forearm, missing me by an inch. Blood splatters over me as the gun skitters away and Sarkin doubles over in pain. I shrink into as small a ball I can muster as the bullet bounces to the floor, to the ceiling and then into Sarkin¡¯s side, sprawling him beside me.

    I open my eyes, to see Amethyst standing at the doorway with a look of sheer horror on her face. ¡°How¡­¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re welcome,¡± I croak. ¡°Now get these off me.¡±

    Amethyst doesn¡¯t respond but drops to Sarkin¡¯s side. ¡°What happened?¡± she demands.

    Sarkin coughs violently, wreathing in pain as blood oozes onto the cold floor.

    ¡°Goddammit Amethyst get these off me!¡± I holler.

    I hear the crackle of a walkie talkie. ¡°Is everything alright in there? How¡¯s the patient?¡±

    Amethyst struts out of the cell. ¡°We need a medic in here fast. Sarkin¡¯s been shot.¡±

    ¡°No don¡¯t call more people!¡± I hiss.

    Amethyst struts back into the room. ¡°How the hell did you¡­?¡±

    I hear a door being flung open, and two men in white coats bundle past Amethyst, dropping to Sarkin¡¯s side.

    ¡°The patient¡¯s dangerous. I recommend we move him to a more secure facility immediately,¡± Amethyst suggests.

    ¡°Go on then,¡± mutters one of the men, too preoccupied with shoving bandages into Sarkin¡¯s wounds.

    Amethyst nods, takes and unlocks my shackles. My arms feel like they¡¯re floating to my sides on clouds. She jerks me close to her and whispers, ¡°Don¡¯t do anything dumb.¡±

    She shoves me into the observation room or whatever it is and out into a hallway. It¡¯s then that I notice that the bullet didn¡¯t miss me entirely but sliced through a good section of my forearm. The sting wells up as thick, dehydrated blood flows down to my wrist, bent behind my back by Amethyst¡¯s iron grip.

    ¡°Are you¡­ you are!¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re actually taking me to a more secure cell!¡± I exclaim.

    ¡°No, god damnit, but I need to make it seem like I am. Just play along,¡± she assures, relaxing her grip on me.

    At the end of the hall, I see a window. Bad idea.

    ¡°Look,¡± she continues. ¡°I¡¯m going to take you to the cell, but once we¡¯re inside, there¡¯ll be these trollies things for apparatus.¡±

    ¡°Appawhat?¡±

    ¡°Never mind. There are no security cameras in there, so you can just slide into one and I¡¯ll roll you out. From there, we can make for the basement and you can use a garbage shoot to get out alright? You¡¯ll have to swim through the river.¡±

    ¡°That stream of sludge? I¡¯ll drown!¡±

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t¡­ are you bleeding?¡±

    The blood finally slides between my wrist and her hand, lubricating it as I kick off the wall, practically flopping over her. I land, push open the window and tumble out in a single, fluid motion.

    ¡°Kallix no!¡± she hollers. She manages to barely grab my ankle, but not enough to stop me from falling.

    I tumble once, and lash out, grabbing a windowsill or something. Shit. No grip. I drop after my slip second of gravitational hesitation. I land feet first, and since I¡¯m facing the building, I crumple backwards, nearly cracking my skull as I roll back onto my feet. I twist, and I¡¯m falling again.

    Thud.

    That¡¯s all I hear as I hit the pavement. The wind is pushed from my lungs. Blood oozes from my nose. Pain splinters through the left side of my face, spreading from my nearly dislocated jaw joint.

    I give myself five seconds of head spinning before I force my hands to the ground. C¡¯mon Kallix, you sick bastard, get up.

    I push, actually managing to lift myself up a couple inches, despite my brain still pirouetting with Andromeda. I bring my knees forwards and look up with blinking, blurry, starry eyes.

    At first I think I¡¯m looking at a black hole. Nope, just the barrel of a gun.

    ¡°Shit,¡± I breathe, as the figures of over six men, all clad in black uniforms with red highlights come into vision. Each of them has a gun pointed to me.

    ¡°Mr. Rane,¡± the one before me commands. ¡°Put your hands behind your head. Slowly.¡±

    I cough. ¡°Yeah, yeah. You got me. Don¡¯t let it get to your head.¡±

    Gunshot.

    The man¡¯s head snaps to the left. His body follows soon after.

    The other five spin around, hammering the triggers of their guns but before they can even find a target, all of them are gunned down. Bullets paint the pavement around my feet as a battered blacked out SUV skids to a halt before me.

    In a blur, I witness the door open, and somebody drag me in my the armpits. Too many things happening too fast.

    Jumped out of a window, probably got concussed. How many floors? Somebody is shaking my shoulders. What? What do you want? Why can¡¯t I see them? Are there lights on? Have I gone blind?

    ¡°Kallix!¡± they shout.

    I open my mouth, and pain shoots through my jaw. Screw the pain. ¡°Ufghhhrgleg,¡± I respond.

    ¡°Why¡¯re you always bleeding?¡±

    ¡°Ufhhhhgarrrrfg.¡±

    ¡°We came to break you out of there¡­ seems you did the job for us.¡±

    Oh shit, I think as my eyes come into focus. I rub them to make sure that they aren¡¯t lying to me. ¡°Oh god,¡± I manage to huff.

    ¡°Yes. You haven¡¯t got much of a choice anymore,¡± responds Zorikan.

 3.2: Torrent

    2

    ¡°Holy shit,¡± I breathe, taking in the sight of one of my worst enemies¡­ who probably just saved my life. He¡¯s got a new scar, stretching from his lower lip to his jawline, but his eyes are the same; stark, icy and analyzing. They bore straight through me. ¡°Why did you¡­¡±

    ¡°You just got captured by Qiara and burst out. You escaped Qiara¡¯s headquarters¡­ well, nearly at least.¡±

    ¡°Yeah so?¡±

    ¡°Do you think anybody¡¯s done that before? Kallix, you figured out where the Raven¡¯s Nest is. You¡¯ve evaded my capture time and time again. Now, you¡¯ve freaking escaped Qiara¡¯s headquarters. That¡¯s not something that just anybody can do.¡±

    ¡°So?¡± I demand. ¡°What do you want? You know there¡¯s no way in hell I¡¯m becoming one of you Swifter bitches¡­ if any of them are still alive of course.¡±

    ¡°Oh they are. A lot of them.¡±

    ¡°No they aren¡¯t. If you had the man power, you would¡¯ve sent some lowly, invaluable worm to do your dirty work. You¡¯d never show up yourself, let a lone with¡­¡± I peer into the front of the car¡­ ¡°Dainin driving it. Isn¡¯t he your beloved gay lover or something?¡±

    With the speed of a tiger, Zorikan¡¯s iron grip clamps around my neck. ¡°You forget the fact that I can and want kill you right now.¡±

    ¡°But¡­ you¡­ can¡¯t,¡± I wheeze.

    He releases me. ¡°Correct.¡±

    ¡°The Swifter¡¯s have been stripped to their skeleton,¡± I continue, fearless. Every word I say hurts my injured jaw, but despite the steel mask he wears, I¡¯m sure it hurts Zorikan more. ¡°You used to be a god of the underworld, but Qiara¡¯s gone straight ahead and snatched the title right from underneath your ass.¡±

    His eyes twinkle. ¡°Which is why she needs to die.¡±

    I gaze at his chiseled face for a moment.

    ¡°You want Qiara to die, she¡¯s your enemy,¡± he states.

    ¡°Yeah¡­¡±

    ¡°I want her to die, she¡¯s my enemy.¡±

    ¡°Alright¡­¡±

    ¡°The enemy of my enemy is a¡­?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not my friend.¡±

    ¡°No, but I might be an ally,¡± he lifts his hand before me.

    I stare at him with a vile cocktail of emotions sizzling inside me, most of which are still the pain in my jaw.

    ¡°Take it,¡± he orders. ¡°We¡¯ll bring her down, I assure you.¡±

    I lift my hand the slightest bit and he grabs it, squeezing so hard that my knuckles are nearly crushed.

    ¡°And don¡¯t forget that we¡¯ve got a common enemy, so it¡¯s in your best interest if you-¡±

    Oblivion encloses around me as a deafening, time slowing smash rips the car from the ground. I see Zorikan being jolted aside, just before I am. Shattered glass flies into me. Zorikan¡¯s elbow hits my shoulder. The car rolls over again¡­ and again.

    Like a ragdoll I¡¯m flung left to right, up to down, side to side.

    A sickening crunch reaches my ears as the SUV skids to a halt, with me inside it. I open my eyes, one of which only sees red, and pry my face from the ceiling of the car, which has now become the glass shattered floor.

    Blaring car honks and blinding lights render me unable to respond as a hand reaches through the smashed window and drags me out of the car. Broken glass scrapes my chest as I¡¯m pulled onto the wet concrete and forced onto my knees.

    Red and blue flashing lights. A semi-circle of rigid standing men.

    A face is before me, lightly slapping my cheek.

    Kaloaan.

    He¡¯s saying something to me. Wallick? Hallick? Kallix!

    ¡°Kallix are you ok?¡± he demands.

    Would be better if you hadn¡¯t slammed into me like a kamikaze bomber, is what I want to say, but I only manage a disgruntled nod. Through my hazy vision, I see Zorikan and Dainin being forced onto their knees to my left, and Kaloaan moving in front of them. He leans over so he¡¯s closer to them and says something I can¡¯t hear.

    Like a chained bear, Dainin launches himself forwards, bellowing so loud I can hear it over the wailing sirens. In a single, swift motion, Kaloaan pulls out his handgun.

    Surprisingly I don¡¯t hear the gunshot, but I do see Dainin¡¯s hefty body drop like a sack of dirt in front my brother. Kaloaan grimaces, but turns, pointing the gun directly at Zorikan.

    I do hear this gunshot.

    ~

    ¡°Kallix¡­ we need you to go to a hospital,¡± Kaloaan says, squatting down in front of me. I¡¯m cramped into a chair in the police department waiting room, a trauma blanket draped over my shoulders. Luckily for them, I¡¯m in too much trauma to escape.

    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t have needed to¡­¡± I wince at the pain in my jaw. ¡°If you didn¡¯t slam into me.¡±

    ¡°I told you that we didn¡¯t know you were there,¡± Kaloaan says. His voice isn¡¯t sorry or comforting. No, he¡¯s stern and authoritative. Something¡¯s changed about him. ¡°Why were you in that car?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t¡­ freaking know,¡± I say. My voice is hoarse with shock and nasal from the drying blood in my nostrils.

    ¡°You don¡¯t know?¡± he asks, leaning closer. ¡°That isn¡¯t an answer. You did know, you always know.¡±

    ¡°Not this time, chump. You know Qiara, the bitch that¡¯s been killing everybody?¡±

    He nodded. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me¡­¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I found her.¡±

    Kaloaan erupts into a laugh of triumph, breaking his eerie sternness. ¡°Ha! I tell you you¡¯re brilliant my man! How¡¯d you do it? Where is she?¡±

    ¡°See that¡¯s the thing, she actually found me. Drugged me at a party. I woke up shackled in some cell, about to be experimented on or something. Not really sure.¡±

    ¡°And then?¡± he asks, shifting so he can move closer to me.

    ¡°I broke out, obviously,¡± I bite my cheek at the thought of Amethyst. She¡¯d wanted to help me, hadn¡¯t she? She was going to help me get out. Why didn¡¯t I just go with her? ¡°But it must¡¯ve been a five floor drop.¡±

    ¡°Not much for you, I assume,¡± he says.

    I shake my head. ¡°Barely managed to get a hold at all. The last floor was a faceplant,¡± I rub my jaw joint beneath my ear. ¡°That¡¯s why I got messed up.¡±

    ¡°You fell a story, face first, then got up and ran?¡±

    I shake my head. Ah, there it is. I was wondering where my tension aches had gone. ¡°No. After half a minute of dying, I opened my eyes to see myself surrounded by Qiara¡¯s men. Then some SUV pulls up, all of the men are gunned down, and I¡¯m hauled inside. Next thing I see is Zorikan¡¯s face, and after that I¡¯ve been hit by a car. Make sense to you?¡±Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    ¡°No. Not at all,¡± he shakes his head in frustration. ¡°Zorikan saved you? Why?¡±

    I shrug. ¡°He saved me, you shot him. Tit for tat, right?¡±

    ¡°And where did you say Qiara¡¯s building was?¡±

    ¡°No idea. No bloody clue, I told you I woke up in there. But you know who does¡­?¡±

    ¡°Zorikan,¡± Kaloaan sighs.

    ¡°Too bad he¡¯s dead too, right?¡± I say, my voice saturated with sarcasm.

    ¡°No. I shot him, but he¡¯s not dead. I beat the crap out of him while I was at it.¡±

    I stare at my brother, unnerved, yet oddly relieved. Don¡¯t feel pity for that shark

    ¡°He deserved it after what he did to dad.¡±

    ¡°Did?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. Yeah I¡­ found him. One of his Swifter¡¯s ratted Zorikan out, for the right price. We found the place and shot it down. Killed most of them, but Zorikan escaped. We¡¯ve been tracking him ever since. We¡¯ve got him now at last. King Rat in a cage.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re insane,¡± I mutter, pinching the bridge of my nose. ¡°I literally cannot believe you.¡±

    Kaloaan¡¯s brow creases. ¡°What? Are you¡­ do you feel for that monster?¡±

    ¡°No!¡± I shout, standing up.

    He stands as well, towering above me.

    ¡°There¡¯s a freaking mafia lord on the loose, slaughtering activists! You¡¯re meanwhile concerned about the Swifters? Coagulating enough of your forces for a full-scale assault on their headquarters?¡±

    ¡°Our dad was being tortured,¡± my brother says, looking at me in shock.

    ¡°And other people¡¯s dads are being killed. Other people¡¯s mums, children and siblings are being killed,¡± I retaliate.

    ¡°We had no idea where she¡¯s located,¡± he defends. ¡°Nor did we have the manpower to deal with her.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s bullshit,¡± I hiss. ¡°You told me that you couldn¡¯t deal with the Raven¡¯s Nest because Qiara was your top priority.¡±

    ¡°We have more than one threat at a time,¡± he says, stone faced. ¡°We got an opportunity to deal with one, so we did. Effectively too, so that we can concentrate properly at the greater task at hand.¡±

    ¡°You know¡­ your brain works like a textbook,¡± I tell him.

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t think outside your own¡­¡± I pace away from him, making annoyed hand gestures as I try to find the right word. ¡°Bubble. You¡¯re stuck in your own bubble and you can¡¯t think beyond it.¡±

    Kaloaan¡¯s stoic appearance switches to a mix between concern and interest. He¡¯s genuinely intrigued to see what I have to say. ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s a solution¡­ a near brilliant one, right in front of your face, but you can¡¯t see it. You can¡¯t see it because you¡¯ve been raised by a policeman manual or something. You¡¯re ingrained into thinking that¡­¡±

    ¡°What is it?¡± he cuts off. ¡°What is your genius solution?¡± he asks, slightly ticked off.

    ¡°You need allies!¡± I shout. Ideas click together in my mind like gears as I find myself thinking more and more like Zorikan.

    ¡°Point?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not strong enough to take down Qiara alone, so you need allies. An ally is like a friend. The enemy of my enemy is my¡­?¡±

    ¡°Who else sees Qiara as an enemy?¡±

    ¡°The bloody Swifter¡¯s you idiot!¡±

    Kaloaan blinks. ¡°The Swifters are¡­?¡±

    ¡°Yes! Yes they are! You¡¯d know that if you¡¯d tried goddamn speaking to them instead of shooting them all!¡±

    He lets out a hollow laugh. ¡°You expect the police to work with petty thieves?¡± he asks incredulously.

    ¡°The Swifter¡¯s aren¡¯t petty thieves,¡± I say, unintentionally quoting Deqar.

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter. I could not¡­ even think of working with that¡­ slime.¡±

    ¡°And you¡¯d rather all these people die than stoop your ego?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not like that¡­ you know what he¡¯s done,¡± Kaloaan protests.

    ¡°No it is like that! Why don¡¯t you talk to him? Arrange something? Work together like freaking humans!¡±

    ¡°Because I can¡¯t goddamn talk to sharks!¡±

    I sigh. ¡°This is hopeless.¡± I rub my jaw. All this shouting¡¯s aggravated the pain.

    Kaloaan sighs, and slumps into the waiting seat. ¡°Why don¡¯t you talk to him, since your so chummy nowadays.¡±

    I haven¡¯t half the energy to make a snark comment back. ¡°Fine,¡± I breathe standing up. ¡°Where¡¯re the cells?¡±

    My brother cracks his neck. It¡¯s disturbingly loud. ¡°Take Havar, he¡¯ll show you the way.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± I slice. ¡°I don¡¯t trust your men. Take me yourself.¡±

    Kaloaan¡¯s nostrils flare. I may have poked a nerve there. He stands, rolls his shoulders, and strides out of the waiting room. I tag along after him.

    He leads me through a buzzing lobby and into a crowded lounge. Men and women in uniform fill my vision, all of them lounging around, sipping coffee or munching on donuts. I¡¯m at first astounded at the sheer man power the police force has, but my astonishment is quickly superseded by contempt. All these officers just relaxing, biding their time as the real criminals of West Side bathe in their riches.

    He makes a left, waving at a couple officers standing lax by a blue metal double door. ¡°Hey chief, ¡®s ¡®ere a problem?¡±

    ¡°Not at all, just showing my brother around.¡±

    I can literally see the guard blink as his mind registers the comparison between Kaloaan and I.

    I¡¯ve been to the prison before. I¡¯ve already been locked in a cell. Tremors of claustrophobia tickle down my spine as I walk.

    Kaloaan stops abruptly before the final door.

    ¡°You¡¯re not coming with me?¡± I ask.

    He shakes his head. ¡°I¡¯ve already killed one man this week. I don¡¯t intend to kill another.¡±

    My brother the killer. How dandy.

    ¡°You¡¯ll see Garner inside, just tell him that I sent you. Cell 14C.¡± He gives me a brief nod, then turns on his heel.

    I watch him for a moment, then turn to the door. I push through, trip and nearly crack my skull on the ground. ¡°Shit,¡± I hiss, picking myself up. I look over my shoulder and see the still form of a hefty officer sprawled in front of the door. Sure enough, his nametag says Garner. ¡°Shit.¡± I repeat.

    I take off, blitzing down the hall until I reach cell 14C. It¡¯s needless to say, but the cell¡¯s empty and the door is wide open. God dammit the bastard is more of a weasel than I am. I continue down the hall, unsure how to contact Kaloaan the fastest, when I see a figure slip out of the corner of my eye. I spin on my heel and barrel down the hall, with no plan in mind. If I find him, he won¡¯t kill me, but I don¡¯t think he¡¯ll let me talk to him.

    ¡°Stop!¡± I holler uselessly I barely miss the figure round a corner. I¡¯m tearing down after them, making millisecond sized gains as I run. As I careen around the last cell, my jaw goes slack and I stumble to a halt. ¡°Rieka?¡± I ask in surprise.

    She¡¯s in a dead end, nothing but plexiglass walls on each side of her. She looks at me like a cornered dog. ¡°Go away,¡± she demands.

    I nearly laugh. ¡°The hell are you even doing here? You broke him out?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s none of your concern,¡± she hisses.

    I take a step towards her. She scuffles her feet. Unarmed, perhaps, but still dangerous. ¡°Hey, I¡¯m not going to have you arrested, alright? But I¡­ I need to talk with Zorikan.¡±

    ¡°Too bad he¡¯s long gone!¡± she shouts, rocketing forwards.

    She zigzags, confusing me, then launching herself at the wall and kicking off it, forcing me to duck or get a heel to the forehead. She lands with a beautifully performed roll and takes off, with me scrambling after her.

    How¡¯d you let that happen? I thought parkour was your thing.

    ¡°God damn, Rieka I just want to talk!¡± I shout.

    She leads me back to the still body of Garner where she drops to one knee and pulls the baton from his belt. With an outstretched arm, she swings it at me, directly aimed to crack my temple.

    I force myself backwards, dodging by a hair¡¯s width and landing hard of my ass. She practically pirouettes over the downed officer with her momentum and flees out the door.

    I slap myself across the cheek before heaving myself to my feet and barreling after her. She¡¯s dangerously close to the mess hall. Weasel or not, if I manage to alert them, she¡¯s done for.

    Then I see her, near the end of the branching hallway and tearing towards a dead end. At first, I¡¯m confused, then I see her leap onto a coffee cart, use that as leverage to launch herself onto a fridge and then towards a small, wide window at the top of the wall. She grabs it with a grunt, opens it and scrabbles through.

    Parkour is my thing. That was an amateur move.

    I leap onto the cart, anticipating it¡¯s roll, spring onto the fridge and practically dive through the tiny opening. I fall like an Olympic diving champion into the grass, using my hands to push myself forwards, shifting my weight so I roll diagonally. I¡¯m on my feet in an instant, calculating how on earth Rieka is already scrambling onto the roof of the nearest building.

    My finally fed, muscles don¡¯t disappoint, and I¡¯ve scaled up to the roof. I literally dive after her accelerating figure tackling her behind the knees. We tumble into each other, entangling like a bowl of spaghetti dropped off a cliff.

    She wreathes like a ferret, nearly squirming out of my grip when I wrap my hands around her waist, bear hugging her. Just as I think she¡¯s about to give up, I feel a knee ram my teeth together. She scrambles to her feet, and I to mine.

    ¡°My jaw was injured, you know,¡± I huff, bringing my bloodied forearm to beneath my ear. I can hear the symphony of asphalt ringing.

    Rieka backs up, reaches into her pocket and flips out a switchblade. ¡°Stay the god damn hell back.¡± She jitters like I¡¯m a trident armed demon or something.

    ¡°Woah¡­ put the blade down. I¡¯m not going to hurt you.¡±

    ¡°What do you want,¡± she hisses, jerking the blade. I notice now that the bags under her eyes are larger, her cheeks are hollower and her face is dirtier. She no longer looks like a typical high school teenage, rather like a raggedy street fox.

    ¡°We need to talk. Qiara¡¯s too damn powerful for Zorikan to take on alone. I¡¯ve seen her manpower first hand. The police force can¡¯t do it either.¡±

    ¡°So then?¡± she demands.

    ¡°We¡¯ve¡­ you¡¯ve got to ally. The Swifters and the police force need to work together.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve turned to him?¡± she asks incredulous.

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve brother. You¡¯re conformist sheep string puppet of a brother. He¡¯s brainwashed you at last¡­¡±

    ¡°No!¡± I shout. I stride towards, her dangerously close to the outstretched blade. ¡°You know that¡¯s bullshit. I¡¯m unbreakable and untamable¡­ but sometimes the cowboy and the horse have got the same goal.¡±

    Rieka blinks in confusion. ¡°You¡¯re making no sense.¡±

    I step closer to look her in the eye, but I quickly feel the cool metal edge press to a gap between my ribs.

    ¡°I move this in two inches, and you¡¯ve got a punctured lung.¡±

    ¡°Rieka you have to trust me, I swear I-¡±

    ¡°No!¡± she hollers. ¡°Both of us¡­ the two of us¡­ we¡¯ve both messed up, except I did it first. No, actually I didn¡¯t even screw up, you just took it that way, but I still apologized because I knew you were different, I knew we had a connection, but you tossed me in the trash like a goddamn plastic wrapper. Then you come to me¡­ after all the shit you¡¯ve done and ask for my help?¡±

    ¡°Rieka I was going through some shit. I wasn¡¯t¡­ I didn¡¯t mean to¡­¡±

    ¡°You were going through shit?¡± she asks with a choked laugh and tears logging her eyes. ¡°Do you think I goddamn wasn¡¯t? That¡¯s not a freaking excuse Kallix, everybody¡¯s going through shit! Everybody manages to hold themselves together. I don¡¯t know why you think you¡¯re so special.¡±

    I hold out my hand. ¡°Rieka I-¡±

    ¡°You look like shit, Kallix. You fix yourself up, get a life. If it¡¯s on the streets or at a desk, I don¡¯t care, just stay out of my life.¡±

    I blink.

    She¡¯s a blur and grace and parkour, weaving from rooftop to rooftop like a failed opportunity.

    I sigh and run my blood caked hand over my face.

    Why is being alive so much damn work?

 3.3: Incidental Murder

    3

    I wolf down the hotdog in a couple quick bites and wash it down with a swig of warm beer. The amount of food tossed out of this restaurant is incredible.

    ¡°Piss of raccoon,¡± I scoff.

    It looks at me with apathy and pulls a hefty piece of broccoli from the dumpster we share, then carries it to a puddle and proceeds to wash it.

    I swing out and continue my jog. The familiar crinkling anxiety of being in the city, surrounded by high rises is reassuring of my position in the world. I speed up. Having forgotten to get my pills from Qiara, and not wanting to ask Kaloaan to by my anymore, I¡¯m stuck with the ever worsening tension ache that practically hums in my neck and shoulder. I speed up again. Maybe if I run faster, I¡¯ll give my adrenalin something to do besides ruining my rubble of a day.

    You do this to yourself you know. You¡¯re toxic not to other people, but also to yourself. You¡¯ve already tried this and it went terribly. You screwed yourself over and ended up in the military. Remember that? The time you participated in a military assault and didn¡¯t kill a single person?

    Huh, if I had killed anybody you¡¯d be beating me up even worse wouldn¡¯t you? So shut up evil voice in my head or whatever your name is. Shut up and piss off because I haven¡¯t got time for you right now.

    You¡¯ve got time for everything. You¡¯ve got no obligations in your crappy life.

    Crappy? Do you have any idea who we are?

    Yeah, a scraggly street dog who repeats his mistakes over and over again. Like this one.

    It will be different this time.

    Will it? She practically told us to kill ourselves last time.

    She was angry! And justifiably, but she¡¯s Tauren. She¡¯s got the kindest, most forgiving heart in the world. She won¡¯t stay mad at me. She doesn¡¯t have to be nice at me, but she won¡¯t be furious. Besides, I don¡¯t care if she¡¯s mad at me, I just need to be sure she¡¯s alive.

    Why? What¡¯s she ever done for you?

    Don¡¯t even try that bullshit, she¡¯s one of my best friends. She was on Qiara¡¯s kill list and seeing Qiara¡¯s efficiency I¡¯d assume that it won¡¯t take her long. Besides, Zorikan and Kaloaan are still alive, so she must¡¯ve started with Tauren.

    Now you¡¯re the one talking negative.

    Pragmatic. There¡¯s a difference.

    Not most of the time. Usually you just muse the two because the world is a dark hurricane that you deserve to live in.

    Hey, shut the hell up ok? I don¡¯t like you, so piss of. And honestly¡­ woahhh, is that¡­?

    I see him and slow to a halt.

    Salif.

    He sees me, stops and blinks.

    My hand twitches in uncertainty.

    And then his face creases into a smile. ¡°Kallix! Long time,¡± he strides forward and grips my hand. I shake it gratefully.

    ¡°Yeah, too long.¡± Salif¡¯s gained weight, but he looks happier. Not sure why he isn¡¯t unleashing every cuss he knows.

    ¡°Yeah so much¡¯s happened! So, I married my girlfriend of six months, you remember Katarina?¡±

    I nod, eagerly. No bloody idea who the hell she is though.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°Yeah, and she¡¯s two months pregnant!¡±

    ¡°Woah! That¡¯s amazing!¡±

    ¡°Isn¡¯t it? Ol¡¯ Salif¡¯s about to be a father!¡± he exclaims giddily.

    ¡°I can barely imagine. Have you thought of a name yet?¡± I ask him. I tread carefully with my words, sure that he¡¯s going to lash out at me in an instant.

    ¡°Well¡­ if it¡¯s a boy, I¡¯m thinking of either Yuri, or Tomblon. If it¡¯s a girl, I¡¯ll just let Kataria de-¡±

    The eardrum shattering sound of a gunshot sends me diving behind a shamble of trashcans, jarring my elbow in the fall. Salif¡¯s body crumples like a sandbag into my line of vision. His glazed over eyes meet mine.

    ¡°Idiot! That¡¯s the wrong one!¡±

    Shit.

    I flatten myself against the asphalt as another bullet tears through the feeble metal of the trashcan, chipping the ground next to me.

    Reload time.

    I scramble forwards, pushing the cans aside, stepping over Salif and dive-roll into an alley. I¡¯ve escaped. I¡¯m safe.

    And Salif¡¯s dead.

    Salif¡­ my life-long friend.

    Dead.

    My fault¡­ isn¡¯t it?

    Yeah, pretty much.

    How many¡¯s that?... how many¡¯ve you¡¯re friends¡¯re dead because of you? You¡¯re worse than the killer. You know that? The bystander¡­ no, the cause of the death actually. You killed him. You killed Salif.

    I stop in my tracks and look over my shoulder.

    I shouldn¡¯t have.

    His lifeless eyes stare up into the sky as the pool of dark blood widens around his skull.

    God damnit, what have I done?

    I faulter, hitting a drainage pipe. I grab onto it for support as a whirlwind of stars pummel my cortex.

    Move!

    Move you idiot! Tauren might still be alive!

    Right, lead Blitz and Javvak to her then, huh?

    Run. Pump those wiry ass legs! Move! Move! Move!

    The drill sergeant in my mind takes over, barreling me forwards before Blitz, likely the sniper, can readjust his position to shoot me down.

    C¡¯mon, faster!

    Wait. Think a bit. They¡¯re looking for you on the streets. Just get off the damn streets.

    I scuttle up the nearest building and continue to flee. There¡¯s no sniper vantage point from here. I¡¯m on the vantage point. Calm down. Chill a bit. Tauren might be alive. You need to check on her. You need to¡­ that¡¯s her house. Her new house, it¡¯s there, remember? Remember from when you went¡­ zombie?

    Yeah, and she told me that she never wanted to see me again in her life. It¡¯s just a check in. I¡¯ll be in and out before she notices. Stop¡­ no¡­

    I force myself to blink out images of Salif.

    I speed up, concentrating my brain power on my agility. Rooftop to rooftop I glide, until I reach hers, a story higher than the others, and launch myself at the window. Against my prediction, its open, and I tumble through.

    A soft, fuzzy carpet stops my concussion.

    ¡°Wh¡­¡± she gasps.

    ¡°Hey,¡± I mutter, sliding a hand through my hair. My eyes glance through the ornate arrangement of her dressers, desk, cupboards, walk in closet, mirrors, bookshelves and massive bed, with a sprawling purple blanket across it. Finally, they rest on her dark, grass green eyes, her fiery ginger hair flowing around her pale face in the background.

    A thousand different words appear to froth at her lips as her brain struggles to choose which one should exit first. ¡°You¡­ you held my gaze,¡± she comments.

    ¡°What?¡± now I¡¯m the confused one.

    She pulls on a large, worn maroon shirt. As it slides over her, I realize that she had only been wearing a bra. ¡°You looked me in the eye. That¡¯s¡­ improvement.¡±

    My mouth opens, then closes. What am I supposed to say to that?

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she continues, ¡°about last time. I was kind of drunk¡­ and really upset. I wanted to come see you, I really did¡­¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s ok,¡± I stutter, clambering to my feet. ¡°I deserved it. All of it. Every single damn word.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± she says, moving towards me. It¡¯s a single, softly spoken word, with such unsolicited power in it. She steps forwards and hugs me, and I melt in her soft embrace. ¡°I am really sorry, Kallix.¡±

    I hug her back. Her warm, calm, milky hug is contrasted by my sharp, edgy, fierce squeeze. ¡°I missed you,¡± I say into her ear.

    ¡°It¡¯s ok,¡± she reassures. ¡°It¡¯s ok, it¡¯s ok, it¡¯s ok¡­¡±

    Like a tidal wave, emotions erupt from my soul and tears break from my eyelid. ¡°Salif¡­ salif¡¯s¡­ dead¡­¡±

    ¡°What?¡± she asks, shocked but not pulling away.

    ¡°The assassins¡­ they were coming for me, but they got him instead. It¡¯s my fault. I came here to see¡­ if you were ok,¡±

    She pulls me to her bed, and we sit down. She lays my head in her lap and strokes my tangled, dirty hair. ¡°Assassins?¡± she asks.

    ¡°Qiara,¡± I manage to choke out the cursed name. Should I tell her that she¡¯s on the list as well.¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡± she breathes. ¡°Yeah, them. That¡¯s not your fault Kallix. Qiara¡¯s assassins are ruthless, cold blooded, drones. They¡¯ll kill anything that¡¯s on their list.¡±

    ¡°Do¡­ do you know that¡­¡±

    ¡°That I¡¯m on her list? Yeah of course. Twice she tried, but I¡¯ve noticed her patterns. Her hitmen always come when you¡¯re out, doing something. They never come to your home. I¡¯ve already lost four of my guards to them, so I just stopped leaving the house. Everything is brought to me, and I just stay inside. I¡¯ve got everything I need here. It¡¯s safe.¡±

    I wrap my arms around her again. ¡°I¡¯m so goddamn sorry¡­ for when I left you¡­¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t be,¡± she replies. ¡°You had enough on your own plate, it was unfair of me to approach you. Plus, it shaped me. It taught me a valuable lesson.¡±

    Another tear drips onto her long shirt, covering her soft, pale thighs that I rest on.

    ¡°Hey, cheer up, Kal. Stay with me a bit, give me some company. I¡¯ve been getting lonely as of late. It¡¯ll be fun.¡±

    I sniff and sit up. I look at her deep green eyes, small nose and tiny scar on her lower lip, and sigh. ¡°Ok,¡± I breathe.

 3.4: Blues, Grays and Flowers

    4

    A husky groan escapes my throat. ¡°Oh my god,¡± I huff, ¡°How much did we drink last night?¡±

    ¡°Nothing,¡± Tauren claims, cheerily.

    I pry my face from the fluffy pillow, and gaze at her wearily. She¡¯s contorted herself into some ungodly pose on a flowery yoga mat on the stone floor. ¡°Nothing?¡±

    ¡°Well, besides my homemade lemonade and that mixed berry juice you got addicted to.¡±

    ¡°Damn,¡± I breathe, sitting up. The mass of different colored blankets on top of me is so comfortable, I feel like I¡¯m trapped in a cloud. ¡°Huh, no headache.¡±

    ¡°Yep,¡± Tauren says, pulling her leg backwards over her head. ¡°Pretty awesome what soberness can do.¡±

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t that¡­ hurt?¡±

    ¡°What? This yoga pose? Oh yeah of course! But like¡­ in a good way. Wanna try?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll pass, thanks.¡±

    ¡°Your loss.¡±

    I slide out of bed, and pad across the stone floor to nowhere in particular. I raise my hand to shield my eyes from the gleaming morning sun. ¡°Where¡¯s the uh¡­ remote thing?¡±

    ¡°You want to watch TV?¡± Tauren asks, surprised.

    ¡°Yeah. Haven¡¯t seen the news in months,¡± I respond.

    ¡°Let¡¯s eat some breakfast first, shall we?¡±

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s a fantastic idea,¡± I realize, making an overexaggerated gesture of patting my stomach. When was the last time I had breakfast? Like an actual one?

    Tauren untangles herself, and grabs my hand, pulling me down the spiral stairs to an already laid out breakfast set up. I marvel at the jugs of juice and lemonade, piles of fruit, pastries, bacon, sausages and¡­ ¡°Holy shit,¡± I gasp.

    ¡°What?¡± she asks, startled.

    I practically dive forwards. ¡°Devilled eggs!¡± I exclaim, scooping one up to inhale the delicious aroma.

    ¡°What¡¯s up with you and devilled eggs?¡±

    ¡°Aw they¡¯re amazing!¡± I wolf it down. ¡°My mom used to make them for me every Sunday for breakfast. One of the few things she was good at.¡± I gobble down three more. ¡°A boiled egg sliced in half. Yolks removed and mixed with mayonnaise, mustard, salt and pepper, then added back to the egg. Such a simple recipe, yet so delicious.¡±

    ¡°Have them all,¡± Tauren says, genuinely happy for my happiness. ¡°But don¡¯t forget to eat everything else.¡±

    The entire platter¡¯s gone in less than five minutes, and I¡¯m starting on the rest of the food. Croissant sandwiches with bacon, fried eggs and gouda cheese. Sausages dipped into every sauce you could think of. Smoothies that taste like fruit salad lemonades.

    Tauren gazes at me with satisfaction as she crunches into an apple. ¡°It¡¯s not easy to make you happy, you know. I¡¯m glad I managed.¡±

    I let out a small chuckle. ¡°You were always the best at it,¡± I say, spitting out an apricot seed.

    A few minutes later, I¡¯m lazily dragging myself back up the spiral staircase while Tauren tells me about the different movies we could watch. ¡°What sounds more enticing, ¡®Dogs Decide Dinner¡¯ or ¡®The End of Purple¡¯.¡±

    ¡°Um, the dog one,¡± I say, flopping onto the bed.

    She turns on the TV as I prop myself up on some pillows to see. The news flashes on and the headline turns my blood to ice.

    ¡°POLICE HEADQUARTERS UNDER ATTACK BY UNKNOWN ATTACKERS.¡±

    ¡°Holy shit.¡±

    ¡°Oh my god,¡± Tauren gasps.

    The image of the all too familiar police headquarters, where Kaloaan spends nearly every waking hour of his life, comes into view, with smoke billowing from each of the windows and a brigade of fire trucks around it.

    Tauren and I exchange glances.

    We pull on our clothes and tear down the stairs. Her driver is waiting for her as we duck into her cobalt blue bullet proof saloon car. I fling the door open and rush to the scene. Firemen are helping coughing officers out of the smoke.

    I rush to the first policeman I recognize; Heller Tash, Kaloaan¡¯s supposed ¡°Best Officer.¡± ¡°Tash!¡± I call, running to him.

    He spins around. ¡°Kallix!¡± he exclaimed. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t be here.¡±

    ¡°Where¡¯s Kaloaan?¡± I demand.

    ¡°He¡¯s fine, kid. Just a bit smoked out, that¡¯s all. You wanna see him?¡±

    I nod vigorously.

    He points to the back of a firetruck, where Kaloaan is arguing with Grell.

    ¡°Kaloaan!¡± I call, running towards him. ¡°What happened? Did you catch any of Qiara¡¯s men.¡±

    Kaloaan¡¯s mouth forms a thin line. ¡°It wasn¡¯t Qiara.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± I ask, incredulous. ¡°Then?¡±

    Tauren looks anxiously between us.

    ¡°It was the Swifters,¡± he says, starkly.

    I¡¯m stunned. ¡°No¡­ no you¡¯ve got to be mistaken.¡±

    He nods. ¡°I¡¯m serious. I recognized their attack style, and I saw Zorikan himself. We¡¯re lucky he¡¯s got little to no tactics in his attacks.¡±The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

    ¡°Shit¡­ shit this is bad¡­ really goddamn bad.¡±

    ¡°Yeah it is,¡± Kaloaan agrees. ¡°He¡¯s sparked a three-way war, and neither of our enemies are afraid of committing war crimes.¡±

    My spine tingles like a shark is swimming in the cement beneath my feet. I take a deep breath of smoky air.

    ¡°Kallix, is there something you need to tell me.¡±

    I grit my teeth. ¡°Yeah¡­ yeah there¡¯s actually a lot I¡¯ve got to tell you. Do you¡­ wanna go back to you¡¯re house.¡±

    Tauren nods, solemnly. ¡°Yeah, lets do that.¡±

    ~

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ a lot to take in,¡± Tauren exhales, rubbing her eyes as she processes everything I¡¯ve just told her.

    ¡°All that, then Salif¡­ it¡¯s a lot.¡±

    She nods solemnly. ¡°Qiara¡¯s the main enemy, while the Swifters and the police are your potential allies, but they¡¯re practically at war with each other, right?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. I haven¡¯t got the slightest clue what to do at this point,¡± I say, flopping back onto her bed. It¡¯s true, for one of the first times in my life, I¡¯m completely at a loss.

    Tauren chews the inside of her cheek in thought. ¡°I think you¡¯ve got to see Sekera¡­ that¡¯s her name, right?¡±

    ¡°Sekera?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, the one with the hair¡­ it seems like you guys became really close in your time with Blax, that twat. She probably needs you, and you haven¡¯t got many others you can trust.¡±

    ¡°Ok¡­ ok yeah, that¡¯s a good idea.¡±

    ¡°Great! I¡¯ll call the driver.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± I cut her off. ¡°I¡¯ll go alone. Every step you take outside your house is a risk not worth taking. Not having you killed because of me.¡±

    ¡°Kallix¡­¡±

    ¡°Seriously. Stay here.¡±

    ¡°But you¡¯ll come back tonight, yeah?¡±

    I shake my head. ¡°Qiara¡¯s assassins and hitmen are on the lookout for me, and if they learn that I¡¯m staying with you, then they¡¯ll double the concentration on your house. It¡¯s too dangerous. I¡¯m safer on the streets, and you¡¯re safer as far away from me as possible.¡±

    She looks at me with disdain. It¡¯s a look I can¡¯t bear, and so I leave.

    Her driver¡¯s waiting for me as I exit the front door, half expecting a bullet to whiz past my ear as I get in. Why can¡¯t one of them ever hit me? Why can¡¯t I just drop like half the other people in my life? Wouldn¡¯t have to deal with all this bullshit then.

    A light drizzle distorts my vision through the tinted windows. My eyes glaze over grey smear of buildings as we drive, seeing everything and taking in nothing. What am I even supposed to say to her? Should I just say hello? She¡¯ll probably speak first, knowing her. Actually, considering my luck, she¡¯s probably been captured by Zorikan or Qiara or someone, to be used as barter against me.

    The car slows to a halt and I force the grim thoughts out of my mind. It¡¯s a small distance to the entrance of the hospital, but my hairs already dripping by the time I enter. The eyes of all the people, waiting in metal chairs, holding paper cups of warm water and beaten up magazines, all turn to me. They look like chickens in their pens, waiting to be slaughtered.

    ¡°Hey,¡± I grunt to a small, dark skinned woman at the front desk.

    ¡°Hi. How can I help you?¡± she asks, seemingly unafraid of my haggard appearance.

    ¡°Sekera¡­ which room is she in?¡±

    She pauses, searching through her computer for a moment. ¡°Room 4D, fifth floor, Flower Ward.¡±

    I blink.

    ¡°You have got a visitor¡¯s pass, right?¡±

    I blink again.

    She smiles back at me.

    ¡°Uhhh, yeah, of course.¡±

    ¡°Great! Have a nice visit!¡±

    I nod, shuffling through the people in the lobby. Room 4D, fifth floor, flower ward. Ok, how hard can that be?

    I enter the first hall I find, but it¡¯s filled with medical examination rooms. I keep walking through until a doctor stops me. ¡°Excuse me, where¡¯re you headed?¡±

    I recite the unnecessarily long address.

    Thankfully, he directs me to an elevator. ¡°Go up to the tenth floor, cross over the bridge, go down five and find the room.¡±

    ¡°Right,¡± I say, shutting the elevator door. Next to me, there¡¯s a nurse with a man in a wheelchair who¡¯s got nearly translucent skin, swollen veins and very clearly isn¡¯t breathing.

    I get out at the tenth floor and am hit by the dullness. The walls, the floors, the trollies, the nurses, everything is stark shades of grey blue. I wander through the halls for a while until I find the bridge, a long glass arc, packed with patients like a highway is with cars.

    I¡¯m trapped in a vessel of sickness, in a cocoon of glass, surrounded by silently pattering rain, beneath an ashy grey sky.

    I see the sign, ¡°Flower Ward¡± plastered in every color possible as I walk in. It¡¯s like entering a different dimension. Everything¡¯s either pink, blue, green, yellow or something in between. Children are racing about, tripping over each other and being shouted at by elderly nurses.

    I sieve through the crowds, squashing into an elevator that¡¯s crammed with sticky, prodding kids. I¡¯m instantly squeamish. And of course, they press every single button possible.

    ¡°God damnit,¡± I sigh, slumping into the corner.

    ¡°Mommy said that¡¯s a swear word,¡± says a tiny girl, why she stares at me, twirling a pigtail.

    ¡°Tell your mommy that she can shove her opinion up her ass,¡± I reply, expecting her to get offended and cry or something.

    Instead, she asks, ¡°What¡¯s an ass?¡±

    Hell am I supposed to respond to that?

    The door opens to the eighth floor, and I push my way out. Don¡¯t they have stairs anywhere here?

    After fifteen minutes of wandering, I settle on the fire escape, pushing open the thick door and stepping onto the metal grate platform. Rain pelts down onto me, making the standing strands of my hair wilt and conform. I breath the cold, smoggy air and it sends a soft, chilling calm over me. I trod down the metal stairs, each so slippery that any fleeing patient would turn into an avalanche of flesh, bones and pathogens. Two floors down, I stop, leaning over the railing. It¡¯s two more floors to the fifth one. Without thinking, I vault over the edge, freefall a few meters, then grab the sixth floor¡¯s platform and swing into the fifth.

    A spiky adrenalin gushes through my limbs, and I crack my neck, pushing through the door. I drip onto the glassy colorful floor as I walk, scanning the doors for 4D. After two lefts and a right, I reach it.

    Push through?

    Peak?

    Knock?

    I wrap my knuckles on the door. Hopefully she isn¡¯t asleep.

    ¡°Come in!¡± she calls.

    Her familiar passionate, reckless, slightly crazy voice hits me like a shot of opioid. I push through, walking into the cramped, stale smelling hospital room.

    ¡°Dingo!¡± she shrieks. She rips off the thin hospital blanket and slides out bed, grabbing a crutch and hobbling towards me.

    I embrace her small form, wrapping her up in a massive bear hug.

    ¡°Oh my god I thought you¡¯d forgotten about me!¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s possible,¡± I laugh.

    ¡°You¡¯re¡­ wet? Why¡¯re you so wet?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t even ask.¡±

    We recollect. She tells me stories about how horrible the hospital is, and how she¡¯s made friends with dozens of the kids in her ward. She tells me about the plastic tasting food and the terrible physiotherapy. I commend her on her quick recovery, then being to tell the grim story of what¡¯s happened just after I got back.

    ¡°You slept with Qiara?¡± she asks, giddily.

    ¡°That¡¯s what you got out of all this?¡± I ask, incredulous.

    ¡°Well yeah!¡±

    ¡°No. I didn¡¯t. She injected me with that shit first. The point is Amethyst.¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­ that¡¯s messed up. So she¡¯s working with Qiara to do what exactly?¡±

    ¡°Not sure, but she¡¯s really convinced that she¡¯d doing the right thing.¡±

    ¡°Damn. So¡­ how¡¯re we going about this?¡±

    ¡°Not sure. My problem right now is that I¡¯ve got bigger worries on my plate.¡±

    ¡°Bigger problems than Amethyst working for Qiara?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. You know the Swifters I told you about?¡±

    She nods.

    ¡°Well, they and the police force are the only people that can stop Qiara, and they can only do it if they work together, but they¡¯re practically at war with each other as of now. I¡¯ve got to fix that¡­ somehow.¡±

    ¡°Hey,¡± she rests her hand on mine. ¡°The sky falling down isn¡¯t entirely your responsibility.¡±

    ¡°I know, but nobody else is doing anything,¡± I mutter.

    ¡°Well then I¡¯ll do it.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll find Amethyst, and I¡¯ll fix all this shit. Or at least try to. You do you¡¯re stuff, I¡¯ll do mine. We meet up later. Progress check and all.¡±

    ¡°Sekera, you¡¯re practically a cripple.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t call me that. I¡¯m healing. A week or so left here. I would ask you to stay a while, but you¡¯ve got enough on your plate as it is.¡±

    ¡°But I don¡¯t even know what I¡¯m supposed to do!¡± I exclaim.

    ¡°You tried talking to your brother, right? And it didn¡¯t work.¡±

    ¡°Not in the slightest.¡±

    ¡°Well then talk to the leader of the Swifters. That Zor-something dude.¡±

    ¡°You want me to talk to Zorikan? Reason with a shark?¡±

    ¡°Have you got a choice?¡±

    I sigh. Well shit. This next part should be interesting.

 3.5: The Eel Negotiates with the King

    5

    I¡¯m not sure why I remember the exact address. I was barely paying attention through all the mayhem, but it stuck through the gunshots and sprained jaws.

    I have to crane my neck and shield my eyes from the setting sunlight as I stare up at the massive skeletal building. My ears ring with white noise as I glance around the barren street. Everything is still. Everything is dead.

    The husk of the unborn skyscraper towers above me, like the skeleton of a gargantuan ancient beast, standing vigil for lost souls. Including itself. Including me.

    Grey, I wonder, as I start to climb. Why is everything grey nowadays. The buildings, the clothes, the bit between¡­ everything is grey. I scale up the stories almost casually, hearing snippets of conversation from the collected Swifter¡¯s inside.

    ¡°¡­no idea what¡¯s in this stuff, but it gets me running for hours¡­¡±

    ¡°¡­you hear about Yudarill? Poor bastard got sniped out on a supply run yesterday¡­¡±

    ¡°¡­this blasted Zorikan is running us down the drain. We¡¯ll need new leadership eventually¡­¡±

    So Zorikan is losing his grip on the Swifters. I couldn¡¯t imagine anybody else leading them. I hate to praise him, but nobody is as efficient and ruthless as he is. At least, nobody that I would ever want to meet, is.

    Eventually, I reach Zorikan¡¯s floor. The thirteenth one. Dunno why he chose it, but that¡¯s what he told me. I haul myself through what would¡¯ve one day been a window and arrive at one of the most intriguing sights of my life.

    Zorikan is slumped in a plastic chair, his limbs are lax, and his eyes are droopy, with a slight strain of drool dripping from the corner of his lips. Around him are several empty cans of beer, half a crate of unopened ones, and a half finished on nearly slipping out of his hands.

    ¡°So, King Shark gets drunk too,¡± I say, folding my arms.

    He jolts, dropping the can, and looks violently around, searching for my still form. ¡°Huh¡­ Kallix¡­ why¡¯re you...¡± he trails off, wiping his chin and sitting up. ¡°Bad hour¡­ you came at a¡­¡±

    ¡°Yeah it seems so,¡± I mutter, striding forwards. I swing a solid right hook, which connects satisfyingly with his forehead, toppling the chair. He rolls backwards over himself, landing in a tangled heap of muscle and tattoo.

    ¡°Humphergurrrrr,¡± he blabbers.

    I leap forwards, throwing all my energy into kicking his gut. If another Swifter walks in now, I¡¯m dead.

    ¡°Hurghh,¡± he belches, jolting onto his elbows and knees.

    Not enough power.

    I charge my thigh muscles, channeling enough adrenalin into my right leg, with all the hatred I¡¯ve got for this husk of a man, and blast it right into his abs.

    Zorikan¡¯s knocked onto his side. Ugly dark yellow vomit spews from his mouth.

    ¡°You god damn bitch!¡± I holler. ¡°You attacked the freaking police HQ? What were you thinking?¡± I kick him again, this time aiming for the ribs, so he can¡¯t breathe.

    He recoils into a ball.

    ¡°You could¡¯ve killed him!¡± I scream, my voice turning hoarse. ¡°You could¡¯ve killed Kaloaan!¡±

    He pulls himself onto his knees, and I ram my palm into his throat, pushing him against the wall with enough force to crack a child¡¯s skull.

    ¡°Why the hell would you do that! You could¡¯ve KILLED HIM!¡± I holler again, squeezing tighter.

    An undecipherable gasp escapes his drool sodden lips. It takes me a moment to process that he said something.

    I release his neck, pulling my hand away in shock at what I¡¯ve just done.

    The leader of the Swifters, the tyrant of my recent life, cripples to the ground, erupting in a coughing fit.

    ¡°What did you say?¡± I ask, wiping my running nose.

    He coughs up more, then hurls.

    ¡°Tell me what you said or¡­¡± I feel it in my pocket. The cool, metal shape against the fabric of my jeans. Kaloaan gave it to me the other day, when we fought. He said keep this on you, so you¡¯ve got the edge over your foes. So that you can strike first. So that you can stay alive.

    Well that¡¯s not what I¡¯m using it for today.

    I pull the switchblade from my pocket and click it open. I kick Zorikan in the gut again, press my knee to his chest and ease the icy blade against his throat, just enough for him to feel it¡¯s edge, but not enough to draw blood. ¡°I should kill you right now. I swore that I would. Nothing¡¯s freaking holding me back.¡± As I speak, I sound more and more like a lunatic.

    There¡¯s no fear in his eyes. They stare straight through me, but not at nothing. He¡¯s¡­ remembering something. Someone?

    The inaudible whisper escapes his mouth again.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    ¡°God damnit what did you say!¡± I shout, stamping off him.

    He forces himself onto his elbows and eases himself against the wall.

    I crouch in front of him, staring into his pale grey eyes, the switchblade is held loosely in my fingers. ¡°What did you say?¡±

    He coughs, then swallows. ¡°Dainin,¡± he breathes. His voice is still deep and smooth, but slurred, course and somewhat¡­ scarred.

    ¡°Dainin?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. Dainin was my¡­ friend. My best friend¡­ if that¡¯s something I could have.¡±

    I blink. ¡°Dainin was your best friend?¡±

    ¡°Closest thing I¡¯ve ever had to one. Kaloaan killed him. I didn¡¯t so much as¡­ lay a finger on him.¡±

    My eyes drift the cement floor between us.

    ¡°Look at me, Kallix,¡± he says.

    I do.

    ¡°Look at me, and tell me who is the monster?¡±

    ¡°Shit,¡± I sigh, slumping down against the opposite wall. I crack open one of the beers and glug half of it down. Warm beer, one of the worst tastes in the world.

    ¡°Yeah¡­ exactly,¡± Zorikan mutters, falling onto his side out of drunkenness.

    A long moment of silence passes over us, like a vast white cloud. I focus on my breathing. I try to relax. The sight of him, the Shark King, lying intoxicated on his side¡­ unnerves me, to say the least.

    Once I¡¯ve collected myself, and had enough to drink, I muster the mental state to ask a question I¡¯d been meaning to ask for months. ¡°Zorikan,¡± I call, checking if he¡¯s fallen asleep.

    He grunts. ¡°You¡¯re still here?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    ¡°What is it?¡±

    ¡°Why is¡­ Rieka forced to work for you.¡±

    He jolts, as if electrocuted. ¡°Who said that she was forced to work for me?¡± he asks, his words getting increasingly slurred.

    ¡°She did.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡±

    ¡°So? Why is it?¡±

    He gnaws on his lower lip for a while, long enough for me to think that he¡¯s found that to be a better pastime than answering me, but eventually he speaks. ¡°A few years ago, when I was more¡­ young and¡­ moral, I stumble across a rather obscene¡­ scene.¡±

    ¡°An obscene scene?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Of?¡±

    He furrows his brow and picks at his nails as if trying to remember. ¡°Rieka, but she was thirteen. Young¡­ too damn young¡­ and there was this other¡­¡± his chin falls to his chest and his eyes droop closed.

    ¡°Hey!¡± I call, tossing an empty can at him.

    He shoots awake, hitting the back of his head on the wall. ¡°Right, and there was with man. Big man¡­ wait no¡­ woman. Yes it was a woman and they were holding hands and then¡­ the woman wasn¡¯t there anymore¡­¡±

    ¡°She wasn¡¯t there?¡±

    ¡°Gone¡­ gone like a freaking dead leaf in the wind¡­ or like a sliver moon between the last day of it¡¯s cycle¡­ anyway she wasn¡¯t there and I saw Rieka but¡­ not like that¡­ not like that, no like¡­ scared, yeah. Scared. She looked really scared. But I don¡¯t work with little girls, no I deal with¡­ big men. Scary men. Scary men is who I work with. Scary enemies¡­ scary men. I don¡¯t get scared, which is why I¡¯m fast. I¡¯m good. I¡¯m good at scary men. And¡­ then came a scary man. The big man¡­ yes and he took her real good. Stole her pretty much. And, and, and, and, and I followed.¡±

    ¡°Wait, he stole her?¡±

    ¡°Yehhh, stole. Like a lipstick. Woman gone, girl gone, I¡¯m gone too.¡±

    I raise an eyebrow.

    ¡°Yes. I followed him but not because he¡¯s¡­ because he stole her¡­ no, no, I followed him because he was on my list. My bad list. Got in trouble with a client of mine he did. Yes. Trouble. I recognized him so I followed him. Because he got in trouble. With this client I had. Named Spance. So then I followed him and found them. Found him and baby Rieka. His willynillybilly was way up inside her. Deep, deep, deep. Else was I to do? Killed the bastard. He deserved it I guess. I killed him. Twice, actually. She swore she¡¯d do anything for me since then. I guess she¡¯s still sworn. Not going to let her leave any who¡­ she¡¯s too good at what¡­ she does¡­ yes¡­¡±

    I¡¯m stunned into silence. ¡°Oh my god,¡± I breath. Holy shit. Holy god damn shit. That is¡­ messed. ¡°Is¡­ she ok? Is Rieka alright? Is she here?¡±

    ¡°Years ago, Kallix. Lot¡¯s and lots and lots¡­¡± he slumps over onto his side again. I get up and kick him again.

    ¡°Unurghhh,¡± he moans.

    ¡°Don¡¯t bloody think you¡¯ve redeemed yourself. Remember all the shit you¡¯ve done to me? Yeah, after we take down Qiara, I want you to know that you¡¯re next.¡±

    I kneel before and look him dead in his ghostly eyes. ¡°Ok? I will kill you.¡±

    A smile cracks across his face. ¡°No, you won¡¯t. I¡¯d be dead if you could. You¡¯re a harmless little cockroach. A harmless, little scurrying cockroach. Scary to some, but if you know what it is¡­ if you know what it is deep down, beneath its thin, thin shell, you can step on it. The only problem is that you have to clean up the mess that you¡¯ll leave behind.¡±

    ~

    I wrap my knuckles against the door. It swings open a little too quickly. ¡°Kallix,¡± Kaloaan says, slightly surprised.

    I walk through, anxious to ese what his apartment looks like. Thank god it¡¯s back to how it used to be. Pristinely clean, not a speck of dust out of place or a chair out of angle. ¡°How¡¯re your lungs?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Well I had to use my inhaler a couple times, but it¡¯s fine now,¡± he explains, tapping the small, gun-like outline in his pocket. ¡°I was lucky, didn¡¯t get much of the smoke.¡±

    ¡°Were there any casualties?¡± I ask, not sure how much I should press the situation.

    He shakes his head. ¡°No, but four of my officers are out of the field for the next week because of burns. Grell included.¡±

    ¡°Sorry for that.¡±

    A faint smile flashes across his face. I shoot him with a quizzical look. ¡°It¡¯s not everyday you say sorry,¡± he explains.

    ¡°Yeah¡­ hey, you remember that old saying? An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind?¡±

    He raises an eyebrow. ¡°First and apology, and now a proverb. Should I take you to the hospital? What¡¯s next, you allow me to take you to the hospital?¡± he asks, laughing.

    I scowl at the terrible joke. ¡°I¡¯m serious.¡±

    ¡°Is this about retaliating?¡±

    ¡°Yes. You know you can¡¯t do that.¡±

    ¡°Yes. Yes, I can do that. And I will.¡±

    ¡°Kaloaan honestly-¡±

    ¡°Hey, what¡¯s with you and Zorikan? You¡¯ve gotten real chummy with him nowadays, huh? How much¡¯s he been paying you to work for him? Must be tons since you¡¯ve got the advantage of being my brother.¡±

    ¡°Shut up Kaloaan, you know I don¡¯t give a damn about money.¡±

    ¡°So, what is it then? Booze? Hookers? What do you give a damn about? Besides apparently keeping this murderer alive. The same person who captured and tortured our damn father,¡± he hisses.

    ¡°God damnit Qiara is the enemy!¡± I shout.

    ¡°No! I mean, yes, she is¡­ but she¡¯s not the only one. We¡¯ve got two enemies right now and-¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t say we,¡± I slice. ¡°The only reason I¡¯m wrapped into this is because Qiara wants me dead, and all of you are too thick headed to figure anything out.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve got two enemies,¡± he continues, ¡°and one of them is weaker than the other. It¡¯s simple tactic to take out the weakest first, then rally yourself to fight the stronger one.¡±

    ¡°Divide and conquer,¡± I say, flatly.

    ¡°Now you¡¯re just throwing out random sayings.¡±

    ¡°No, I¡¯m not. Divide and conquer. That¡¯s what Qiara is doing. She¡¯s trying to divide the Swifters and the Police, so she can take the both of you out. Without either of you, nothing stands in her way. She¡¯ll be a puppet master controlling everything that goes on in West and East Side. And you and Zorikan will be dead. Me? I¡¯ll be fine, living in the sewers like I always have, and not much will have changed. My life will go on as usual besides the point that you¡­ will¡­ be¡­ dead. So don¡¯t even attempt to say that I¡¯m coming at this selfishly, because for the first time in my life, I¡¯m not.¡±

    Kaloaan looks at me with disdain, and scratches at his goatee. ¡°Yeah¡­ maybe you¡¯re right. Ok, you win Kal, but I¡¯m not going to stoop to his level, but don¡¯t ever in hell expect me to work with him.¡±

    I groan. I might have achieved the impossible, but I¡¯ve no idea how I¡¯m supposed to do it twice.

 3.6: The Drugless Bender

    6

    ¡°I didn¡¯t find her. Not even a trace,¡± Sekera mumbles into her palms.

    I sigh. ¡°That¡¯s alright. I don¡¯t think anybody could find Amethyst if she doesn¡¯t want to be found.¡±

    ¡°And you? Did you manage to talk to your brother and Zor¡­¡±

    ¡°Zorikan? Yeah, I did. Kind of. He was drunk. Not sure if I even had to, I don¡¯t think they would¡¯ve attacked again. Zorikan knows he made a mistake aggravating the police force.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s already lost, hasn¡¯t he?¡± Sekera asks, looking at me through her long colorful locks.

    I grind my teeth together. ¡°If it were anybody else in his situation, I would say yes, but Zorikan could drag himself from the pits of hell if he wanted to. I¡¯ve no idea how this is going to unfold.¡±

    Sekera¡¯s hand interlocks with mine and she pulls herself closer to me, resting her head on my shoulder. I stare at the cement between my knees. It¡¯s bitterly cold, and the metal street bench we¡¯re on is working in league with the sun blotting clouds to freeze us to death. I squeeze her hand tighter. ¡°What do you want to do now?¡± she asks.

    ¡°As usual, I¡¯ve no idea. What can we even do? This is above us, all of it.¡±

    She nods. ¡°Do you¡­ remember our plan?¡±

    ¡°Plan?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. From the Dunes. That night, in the cave. We made a plan.¡±

    ¡°Oh yeah, with the bikes and the arcade and everything.¡±

    ¡°How about that?¡±

    ¡°Well, you¡¯re slightly¡­ incapacitated¡­ with your injury, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    I look her in the eye, just as her face lights up with a sharp, elvish smile. ¡°Or am I?¡± she asks.

    I raise an eyebrow.

    She sits up and rolls up her loose trousers to the spot on her thigh where she was shot. It¡¯s no longer a dark red, fleshy mess as I remember it. Now, there¡¯s a gleaming piece of metal, wedged into the wound.

    I squint at it. ¡°That¡­ doesn¡¯t look healthy.¡±

    ¡°Ahh, don¡¯t worry about it. I talked to the doctors. They put this little gadget in my leg, and all my mobility is restored! Plus I got these dandy pills for the pain. I mean, it won¡¯t heal any time soon, but I can be injured later, am I right?¡± she grins.

    I can¡¯t help but smile. ¡°Are you serious?¡±

    She leaps to her feat, stepping onto the bench and cartwheels off. She reaches the road just as a burgundy pickup barrels past, she scuttles back to my side, giggling.

    ¡°Jeez, Sekera don¡¯t break it again.¡±

    ¡°C¡¯mon,¡± she laces her fingers into mine and pulls me along the grimy street. A splash of tie-die in a concrete world. ¡°When was the last time you had fun? You know, fun that didn¡¯t revolve around sex and drugs?¡±

    ¡°Well I did get drunk the other day. That was pretty fun.¡±

    ¡°Dumbass,¡± she jibes, running faster.

    Then, something unexpected happens. My heart flutters with excitement. You know the kind of flutter that kids experience on Christmas morning, mixed with a teenage about to lose his virginity, with a hint of receiving your final exam back. Yeah, that.

    ~

    ¡°Screw you aliens, goddamnit!¡± I holler, slamming the gun down onto the control board. It slides off, dangling by its plastic cable.

    ¡°Hey you¡¯re not dead yet!¡± she cries, swiveling around as she blasts more of the hideous creatures to gory splotches.

    I frantically pick up my gun and aim at the horned brute of an alien that charges towards us. I hammer the trigger, but nothing comes out. ¡°Sekera I¡¯m out of ammo! Help!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m pinned! Use your electro-sword thing!¡±

    ¡°What button is it?¡±

    ¡°The green one!¡±

    I look up, seeing the brute a couple meters away. I hammer the dive button, sending my character leaping out of the way. The edges of my screen turn red as the brute barely hits me.

    ¡°Yes!¡± Sekera cries, standing up and blasting at our traitorous space crew members.

    ¡°Leave them! Help me with this thing!¡±

    ¡°But we can¡¯t allow Captain Koris to escape! He killed Halia!¡±

    ¡°Sekera I¡¯m going to die!¡± I holler as the brute stumbles to a halt. Still clumsy with the controls, I race up behind it, hacking away with the sword.

    ¡°Relax, you¡¯ll just respawn,¡± she tells me, ducking down to reload.

    ¡°Yeah but I¡¯ll lose all my shit!¡±

    ¡°You can have some of mine.¡±

    The brute swings it¡¯s massive gnarled hand, collides directly with my vision, sending my sprawling to the floor. Most of my screen is red now. ¡°Sekera it¡¯s over.¡±

    ¡°Yes! I shot the bastard!¡±

    ¡°It says I¡¯ve been taken down. I¡¯m still alive. Sekera I can¡¯t move! Why can I only crawl?¡± pathetically, I crawl away from the brute, swinging my electro-sword in front of me defenselessly. I watch in horror as it raises a massive foot to crush me¡­ and then the screen goes black.

    ¡°What?¡± Sekera shrieks. ¡°I had him in my scope! He was dead!¡±

    ¡°What happened?¡±

    A shadow sprawls over us. ¡°Arcade¡¯s closed,¡± says a man in an ugly had, upturned nose and more chins than I can count.

    ¡°Aw, c¡¯mon, we didn¡¯t even get to do the VR,¡± Sekera whines.

    ¡°Who told you to spend so much time playing Alien Invasion Lunaris Expansion Sixth Edition?¡± he asks.

    ¡°We only played it for so long because that family of butter-filled hot air balloons was hogging it the whole time!¡± I protest.

    ¡°Now that¡¯s just rude,¡± he says.

    We stop, giving him puppy eyes. It¡¯s difficult to do that when you look like a half starved, mange ridden street dog though.

    ¡°Get out,¡± he articulates.

    Sekera curses under her breath, and we slide out of the miniature game room and amble out. The chins dude locks a chain through the handles of the glass doors to the arcade. We¡¯re still standing there.

    ¡°Can you kids like¡­ go do drugs or something?¡±

    ¡°Have you got any?¡± I ask, eagerly.

    Sekera elbows me in the ribs. ¡°We¡¯re good thanks.¡±

    ¡°Alright, suit yourself,¡± he mumbled, trudging away into the night.

    ¡°Bastard¡¯s got a stick up his ass,¡± I mutter.

    ¡°And stones in his brain if he thinks this door is gonna keep us out,¡± Sekera says, a mischievous glint in her moonlit eyes.

    ¡°You wanna smash the door? Aren¡¯t¡­ alarms going to go off?¡±

    ¡°Idiot. We just need to find a way up there,¡± she points to the roof. Rooves; my expertise. ¡°There¡¯s an air-shoot that leads down.¡±

    I shrug, and grab hold of the gutter. Sturdy enough. Using my upper body strength, I haul myself up onto the thick letters of the neon arcade sign. Lying flat across the lumpy surface, I dangle my arm down.

    Sekera jumps, grabbing my forearm. I grip her and swing her, just far enough for her to grab the bottom of the E. She hooks her legs up like a sloth, and like a slinky, gets up.

    As I stand, my feet are suddenly midair. ¡°Shit,¡± I grunt, falling. I grab hold of the loop around the D just as the A crashes to the ground in a mini explosion of sparks.

    Sekera laughs maniacally as I haul myself back up.

    ¡°This Tauren girl¡¯s been feeding you too much.¡±

    ¡°Not all of us want to stay anorexic our entire lives,¡± I mumble, grabbing the edge of the roof. Sekera scuttles up me, being too short to reach the ledge herself. I clamber up after her.

    ¡°You¡¯re one to talk about being anorexic.¡±

    ¡°Hey, I¡¯m lean,¡± I tell her, with a quick, moonlit flex of my wiry bicep.

    ¡°There it is,¡± she points at the air-shoot, sticking out of the roof like a periscope.

    ¡°You sure this is safe?¡± I ask, gazing into it¡¯s gaping black maw.

    ¡°Safe as anything else you do in your daily life,¡± she grins, hoisting herself inside. She disappears suddenly with a giddy scream, swallowed by its hungry darkness.

    ¡°Shit man, what the hell,¡± I shrug, clambering in myself. I¡¯m enveloped in darkness as my stomach leaps into my mouth. I¡¯m shooting vertically down for a moment, before it gradually slides me horizontal, where I go crashing into Sekera, who¡¯s waiting on her hands and knees. In a tumble of tangled limbs and colorful hair, we bundle out of the air shoot, falling onto the geometrically colored carpet.

    ¡°C¡¯mon,¡± she giggles, disentangling herself from me and scampering through the darkness.

    ¡°How did that not hurt you?¡± I groan, pulling myself up. I can feel a bruise forming at my ankle, but what the hell. Arcade games loom like a hunched army, waiting to spring up. Like an elf of mischief, I slip by them, unnoticed.

    I follow the cackles and glints of plaits to what I would think to be a futuristic wrestling arena. Except it¡¯s circular. ¡°You wanna go first?¡± she asks, picking up a massive pair of VR goggles. ¡°Wait, never mind, there¡¯re two.¡± She tosses me one. I lunge forwards, fumbling it and nearly stepping on it in the darkness.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡°I¡¯m supposed to put these on?¡±

    ¡°Yeah!¡± she says, grabbing the control pad. She takes my hand and leads us to the center.

    Uncomfortably, I do as she says. Suddenly, a world of unnaturally bright visuals flood my vision. It takes a moment for me to realize that it¡¯s a skyline. I¡¯m above a city. It¡¯s not West Side. ¡°Where is this?¡± I ask. ¡°Why does it look¡­ plastic?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re asking questions?¡± Sekera asks, incredulous.

    I look to her, seeing an avatar of her, a virtual replica, balancing precariously on a metal beam that stretches towards me. I look at my virtual feet, and see that they too, are on the beam.

    ¡°Ahh!¡± she shrieks, tottering to the left.

    Instinctively, I lunge forwards and grab her. ¡°Chill man. Relax it¡¯s only a simulation,¡± I tell her.

    She sinks into me with laughter. ¡°Just a simulation, huh? Watch this.¡± She pulls the control pad from her back pocket, at least, a virtual reconstruction of it, and punches in something I can¡¯t see. ¡°Turn around.¡±

    I do, and see a large purple orb, with a door, impossibly balanced a little way down the beam. ¡°Do we¡­ get it?¡±

    ¡°Heck yeah!¡± she totters to the orb, with me in close pursuit. We get in. I grimace at the sterile virtual material.

    ¡°And now?¡±

    My words are snatched from my mouth as the orb plummets, with us inside it, and the world outside turns into a blur. Sekera and I are sucked together like magnets as we cry out. I can literally feel with world whizzing past as the orb swings back up to the original position, like a giant, messed up pendulum. The skyline comes into view again, and I release the breath I didn¡¯t know I was holding.

    She detaches herself from me. ¡°Jeez,¡± she exhales. ¡°That was-¡±

    The next thing I know and we¡¯re plummeting again. Sekera moves for me, but my muscle memory sends me springing into the air. The vision of the floor moving away from me, whilst the real floor stays as is, cripples my landing and I fall into a heap. My stomach crawls back up my throat again as I see the world whizzing past. I tuck my knees up to my chest, waiting for the dizzying feeling to pass.

    When it stills, I hear Sekera laughing hysterically. She staggers towards me, her entire form shuddering with giggles. ¡°Just¡­ a simulation-¡±

    Oh no.

    Just as I¡¯m picking myself up, we¡¯re plummeting again. Sekera¡¯s knees buckle, and she tips directly into me. I catch her, barely, losing balance and sliding against the smooth floor. I grab fistfuls of her mismatched hair as her laughter fills my ears. I open my eyes, and we¡¯re still again.

    ¡°Oh few. Ok, I think I¡¯ve had enough of-¡±

    A thud reaches my ears. Sekera and I look at each other, and then outside. The metal beam literally snaps halfway down, so the orb and half the beam are held by a tiny fiber of metal, or however that works.

    A string of curses fly out of my mouths as I leap at her. She grabs me, topples over and we scream together. The orb makes an entire circular rotation, stopping higher in the sky than ever before. Both of our eyes flit to the feeble holding of the orb. My heart stops as it snaps clean off.

    I¡¯m not a screamer, but I did literally scream as we plummeted towards the ground. The concrete zooms into us at the speed of light, then repels us like we¡¯re a bouncy ball. A slow motion three seconds pass in the air before we¡¯re zooming back down.

    I wrench the headset from my face, dropping it carelessly. ¡°Shit,¡± I gasp.

    Sekera does the same, flopping onto the ground. ¡°Oh god, solid ground.¡± She rolls onto her stomach, comedically trying to hug the ground.

    I run a hand through my hair. It comes back wet. ¡°That¡¯s supposed to be fun?¡±

    She twists to look at me. ¡°Yes.¡±

    Both of us burst into giggles in unison. ¡°Ok you¡¯re right. That was awesome,¡± I admit.

    ¡°Oi!¡± Somebody hollers. A floodlight pours through the frontal glass doors. I can¡¯t see who it is, but it¡¯s no doubt they¡¯re police. Luckily, we¡¯re too deep in the arcade to be seen. ¡°What¡¯s going on in there? I heard screams. Is everybody alright?¡± He¡¯s managed to open the door lock, but not the chain, and is hollering through the gap he¡¯s pushed.

    ¡°Yeah!¡± Sekera yells back.

    ¡°What are you doing?¡± I hiss.

    ¡°Relax. He can¡¯t get to us,¡± she chuckles.

    ¡°What¡¯s going on in there? Why are you there after hours? How did you get in?¡±

    Sekera grabs my hand, and we slink nearer to the entrance. I can see him now. A tall, stocky, blue sunglass sporting cop, I recognize as Yugan Vosnik, the partner of the famed Heller Tash. What¡¯s he doing roaming around the streets at this hour?

    ¡°Too many questions!¡± Sekera replies. ¡°Slow down.¡±

    ¡°Um¡­¡± Vosnik stutters, confused by the response. ¡°What are you doing inside there?¡±

    I catch wind of our security in the situation. It¡¯s not everyday you get a chance to mess with a cop like this. ¡°Sex!¡± I shout at the top of my lungs. Sekera¡¯s mouth is agape and her eyes are sparkling with mischief.

    ¡°Sex? Sex?¡± Vosnik asks, mortified. ¡°Here? That¡¯s illegal!¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry officer, we¡¯re both sixteen so it¡¯s allowed!¡± Sekera shoots.

    ¡°No! No it¡¯s not! Let me in, now! Or I will break this glass and arrest both of you for underaged intercourse, and trespassing.¡±

    ¡°Oh no, I¡¯m sorry officer,¡± I respond. ¡°I don¡¯t think you can join us at this time. I¡¯m not into threesomes.¡±

    ¡°On the contrary,¡± Sekera butts in. ¡°I¡¯d quite like a threesome. You know that you¡¯re just not as¡­ filling as you used to be.¡±

    Now my hands are on my belly and my legs are kicking out with muffled laughter.

    ¡°You disgusting runts,¡± Vosnik hisses. ¡°That¡¯s it, I¡¯m orchestrating a legal infiltration.¡±

    I hear glass shattering. Sekera shoots me a worried glance, but my wry smile overtakes me. I grab her hand and lead her back into the alien invasion game we¡¯d been playing and directly under the console. Invisible to the naked eye.

    I hear a torch click on. ¡°Little cunts. Where are you?¡± he demands.

    We hold in our breaths and laughter as he sifts through the arcade. Just as he passes us, I give the signal and we take off.

    ¡°There you are!¡± he hollers, scrambling after us.

    I leap onto his scooter, the keys still conveniently in place, and turn it on. Sekera¡¯s right behind me, wrapping her arms around my midsection as I rev the handles, sending it gliding forwards at an astonishing silent speed.

    ¡°Bastards!¡± Vosnik hollers, pounding his baton in the air. ¡°That thing¡¯s tracked! I¡¯ll find you and arrest you little cunts!¡±

    I snort. ¡°What an idiot that guy is.¡±

    ¡°I know right, thanks for telling us about that.¡±

    ¡°So where to next?¡± I ask, over my shoulder. The cold, musky night air whips my dirty my hair behind me, sending a ripple of liberation through my wiry frame. Sekera forces her face through the barrage of black ribbons, resting her chin on my shoulder.

    ¡°I dunno. Wherever the hell we want to.¡±

    ~

    I push the door open into the little, scintillating fast food diner. The smell of fatty oil and oven grease blasts me.

    Sekera inhales. ¡°Ahh, what a smell.¡±

    ¡°You like this shit?¡±

    ¡°Fast food? Of course! Love it.¡±

    ¡°Alright. You order then. Haven¡¯t eaten at one of these in millennias,¡± I say, glancing around the empty booths. A neon sign that says ¡°Open 24/7¡± flickers at the doorway.

    Sekera peers over the smudgy counter, to see the waitress utterly passed out on her keyboard. I can see an endless stream of Js on the screen. ¡°Um, excuse me miss? We¡¯d like to place an order?¡±

    ¡°Huh?¡± the fossil of a woman snorts, shooting upright. A receipt is stuck to her saggy cheek. She fits her tiny glasses onto her nose and looks us over. ¡°Sorry about that, young¡¯uns.¡± She¡¯s got a typical, innocent, little old lady voice that¡¯s always made me think of the demonic cat eater I¡¯d read of in a book four years ago.

    ¡°Ummm, two Wowchik-burgers please. Extra pickles on one.¡±

    ¡°Delightful choice. And to drink?¡±

    ¡°A chocolate swirl milkshake, and a¡­¡± she looks me over, judging me severely with her maple eyes. ¡°Lemon slushy?¡±

    I shrug. Doesn¡¯t sound very good, but neither does anything else.

    The old lady punches some buttons, and two paper wrapped burgers slide into a tray. She fills the drinks from some ungodly machine, and rests them beside the meals, picking up the trays and handing them to us. ¡°So, tell me, how come you dandy little couple are out so late?¡±

    ¡°Oh, we¡¯re not a couple,¡± I say quickly.

    Sekera snorts. ¡°He¡¯s shy.¡±

    I shoot her an arched eyebrow.

    ¡°Oh, are you dear?¡± the geezer asks. ¡°Well you¡¯re not going to accomplish anything if you¡¯re shy. And if you want to impress her, you shouldn¡¯t be taking her to such a place you know. You should take her to a real restaurant, with waiters and candles and wine.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, well it¡¯s kind of hard to do that when you¡¯ve got no money,¡± I shrug, as Sekera pulls a small crumpled wad of cash from her pocket.

    ¡°How preposterous!¡± she cries. ¡°You¡¯re making her pay?¡±

    I turn my pockets inside out. ¡°I¡¯m broke. Spent all my money buying her all those hair extensions.¡±

    That sent the old lady into cackles. ¡°Alright, alright,¡± she sighed, wheezing. ¡°You two enjoy those.¡±

    Sekera led us into a booth, propping her feet up as she sat across from me. She unraveled the wrapping of her burger and began devouring it like a black hole. ¡°Jeez, are you that hungry?¡±

    ¡°Yeah! We haven¡¯t eaten in ages! How are you not hungry?¡±

    ¡°Well, I guess I am. I think I¡¯m just used to being hungry by now,¡± I laugh. I cautiously take a slow sip from my drink. I quickly recoil with a screwed-up face.

    ¡°What?¡± she asks. ¡°Too sour?¡±

    I nod. ¡°I love it.¡±

    She smirks. ¡°Know you too well.¡±

    I crunch into the crispy grown-chicken burger.  ¡°This tastes like a heart attack.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t know heart attacks were delicious,¡± she giggles between mouthfuls.

    ~

    RAIN RULEZ

    I shake the red spray paint again, glancing over my shoulder. Sekera¡¯s cackles make me shoot her a look in her direction.

    He spray can rattles, and she presses it nearly to the wall, making a long line. It takes me a moment in the hazy grey of dusk to realize that she¡¯s making a massive purple dick. Along the side of it she sprays, SUCK¡¯ERA.

    I pull down the bandana covering my mouth. ¡°Can¡¯t stay too long. He must have cams.¡±

    ¡°Screw it. Screw the mayor. Screw his damn white-ass house,¡± she hisses, spraying dozens of mismatched gang symbols to throw off the police.

    I spray more; CAPITABITCH. LAW-JERKER. SLIME-FLESH.

    Sekera¡¯s head cocks. Sirens in the distance.

    ¡°Shit,¡± I hiss.

    ¡°Shit,¡± she giggles.

    We careen towards our bikes. Mine¡¯s been sprayed black with blue hazards, and hers is a drunken rainbow with unicorn barf all over it. She literally leaps onto hers, from years of riding as a child, while I¡¯m forced into a running start, awkwardly swinging onto the seat just as the cops roll onto the clean road, sandwiched by impossibly green, buzzcut grass.

    ¡°Hey! Stop right there! Hooligans!¡±

    My bike wobbles from side to side as I pour all my adrenaline into my legs, quickly catching up to Sekera.

    ¡°Bitches¡­ can¡¯t do shit,¡± she pants, grinning as I overtake her.

    We make it into the urban sprawl before the cops catch up to us, sinking into the refuge of the high-rises. With the cars being too big to follow, and foot being too slow an option, we¡¯ve already escaped them.

    ~

    ¡°C¡¯mon!¡± I yell. ¡°Just leap up. Grab my hand. I¡¯ll catch you I swear!¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll slip! I¡¯m sweaty! Kallix if I fall, I die.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I do it every day!¡± The first ray of sunlight greets my pupil like an overly excited puppy. ¡°We¡¯re gonna miss the sunrise!¡±

    Perched atop the tallest building in West Side, I hold one of the poles supporting the tiny room above it, leaning over as far as I can, where Sekera remains, stuck, against the smooth metallic curvature that had daunted me so many months ago. I¡¯d climbed this building the first time so I could get away from the world. I¡¯m climbing it now so that I can see all the world.

    ¡°Can I just go back down and get the rope ladder? It got me this far!¡±

    ¡°No! Hurry up! Relax I will catch you!¡±

    ¡°God damnit Kallix I swear I¡¯ll haunt you if I die.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll be grateful of the company.¡±

    She throws herself upwards, perfectly into my grasp. The brief second of limbo exposure to a flattening death is over in an instant, and I pull her to the top.

    ¡°Woah,¡± she gasps, eyes twinkling with infant sunshine.

    ¡°Hold on, we¡¯re not there yet.¡±

    I lead her up the metal rungs, into the dusty old, empty, purposeless room. It kind of reminds me of myself. Except for the old part, of course. Perhaps I¡¯ll come back in sixty years. If I¡¯m still alive. Unlikely.

    I open the window, and climb onto the small section of flat roof, helping Sekera up afterwards. She takes in a long, awe-filled breath.

    I¡¯m captivated, hypnotized.

    The yellow rays spearhead an assault against the ever-retreating grey of pre-dusk. The night. The night that was my ally. My only friend. A sprawl of orange unfurls itself from the horizon, perking up like West Side where there had once only been the Dunes. It reaches to the north and south in a warm, motherly embrace of the metal, grit rattled world. I expect a glow of red to wax from its heart, like a reversed sunset, but it doesn¡¯t. Instead, the fiery might of the sun itself crests the dappled horizon. A beaming knight, appearing on a hilltop as a bleak, endless battle wages before him. The grass is grey. The swords are black.

    I feel Sekera¡¯s head on my shoulder, and her soft, small hand slide over the back of mine. Her delicate, crazed palm, over my veiny, scarred knuckles. The psychopath and the street mutt.

    ¡°Remember that bitch I told you about? Rieka?¡±

    Sekera nods against my bony shoulder.

    ¡°This is where I first met her. Up here. I came here because I thought I would be the only person in the world who could, only to find that somebody else was already here.¡±

    Sekera¡¯s silent for a moment. ¡°And? How did it go?¡±

    I swallow, forcing myself to draw my mind from the painted liberation on the horizon, and back to the memory, drowned in emotional turmoil. ¡°Well, we talked for a while. She seemed¡­ alright, at first. Then we kissed, because, you know, that¡¯s what horny teenagers do¡­¡±

    ¡°Trust me, I know,¡± she says, with a soft laugh.

    ¡°And then she ended up sucking me off. I came like a volcano. I remember being so damn captivated by her blue eyes. God-damnit I was a fool.¡±

    ¡°You still are,¡± she says, running a finger from my hairline down my nose.

    I huff. ¡°Your eyes are better. They¡¯re not as arrogant. Perhaps they aren¡¯t striking, but they¡¯re delicate, and hearth-like, and intricate and¡­¡±

    ¡°Kinky?¡± she asks with a smirk.

    I nod. ¡°Yeah, kinky.¡±

    She smiles and nestles closer to me.

    ¡°Hey¡­ after all this¡­ after everything is over,¡± I start, looking into her warm, innocent yet devilish maple eyes. ¡°After Qiara¡¯s dead and Ravven¡¯s gone and Amethyst is sorted and Kaloaan fixes the Bansilin and everything¡­ after all that¡­ it will be like this.¡±

    ¡°Like what?¡±

    ¡°Like this¡­ like right now¡­ like last night. It will be like that every day.¡±

    She pouts a little. ¡°That seems like a long time away.¡±

    I exhale.

    ¡°Couldn¡¯t it be like this¡­ now? Forever? Ok¡­ sorry¡­ that¡¯s stupid.¡±

    I put my arm around her and pull her closer to me. ¡°It won¡¯t be too long. I¡¯ll make sure of it.¡±

    Silent admiration of the beauty before us falls.

    ¡°That would be nice though.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°What you said. About every day. I¡¯d like that.¡±

    I rest my head back against the metal, transfixed by the seemingly endless sunrise. I wish this moment could stretch and prolong until the universe bundled itself back into whatever box it sprang from.

    ¡°You know, sometimes I wish you weren¡¯t lesbian.¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­ sometimes I do too.¡±

 3.7: Dominoes Topple

    7

    I yawn, stretching out like a cat. ¡°Rise¡¯n¡¯shine.¡±

    Sekera groans, rolling over. ¡°How do you sleep on such?¡± she asks, scowling at the back-alley nook I found. My perfect idea of cozy.

    I shrug. ¡°Been sleeping in ¡®em my whole life. I¡¯ll take it over a bed any day.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re nonsense. Hey, that thing on your pants is beeping.¡±

    ¡°Huh?¡± I ask, looking down. Sure enough, a small, metallic object is flashing like it¡¯s about to explode on my waistband. That would be hilarious. ¡°Oh. Kaloaan gave it to me the other day. Says its so that we can contact each other¡­ in case of an emergency.¡±

    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you answer?¡±

    ¡°Well, I would,¡± I start, pulling it from my waistband and sliding it¡¯s smooth, pebble like figure in my hands. ¡°But I¡¯m not really sure how to. Not the most tech savvy.¡±

    ¡°Damnit Kallix you¡¯re a cave man,¡± she mumbles, snatching it from me. It takes her a second to realize that there¡¯s a discrete button along the side of its ovular shape. She presses it down and a crackly voice emerges out.

    ¡°Kallix? Kallix can you hear me?¡±

    Sekera glares at me expectantly.

    ¡°Yeah I can hear you. What is it? You kinda interrupted something.¡±

    Her glare deepens.

    ¡°Sorry. I just¡­ needed to contact you.¡±

    ¡°Well? What is it?¡± I demand.

    ¡°It¡¯s Zorikan.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t tell me he¡¯s attacked again.¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s dead?¡±

    ¡°No! Just listen for a second.¡±

    I listen.

    ¡°He sent one of his men. Swifters, they¡¯re called?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. What¡¯d he say?¡±

    ¡°She, actually. She said that Zorikan¡¯s ready to¡­ make a truce.¡±

    ¡°A truce? Really?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, apparently. I¡¯m not sure, it seems like a rig. I¡¯ve got half a dozen men surrounding his complex.¡±

    ¡°What? You found it? How?¡±

    ¡°Tash followed you. I told you he¡¯s the best.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s disgusting!¡±

    ¡°Anyway, he wants a truce. Just after he tried to burn down the headquarters. I don¡¯t know what¡¯s got into him. I just wanted to call you because¡­ well, you know him better than the rest of us.¡±

    ¡°So?¡±

    ¡°So I want you here when I talk to him.¡±

    ¡°To make sure you don¡¯t shoot him? Like you did to Dainin?¡±

    ¡°Why¡¯re you talking like your friends with him?¡±

    I suck in a breath through my teeth, sharp enough for him to hear. ¡°I¡¯m going to pretend that you didn¡¯t say that.¡±

    I hear him exhale and can practically picture him pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

    ¡°Relax Kaloaan,¡± I say. The name feels foreign and awkward on my tongue. ¡°When and where?¡±

    ¡°Meet me at the HQ. Tonight. Nine.¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­ I¡¯ll be there. If nothing else comes up, that is.¡±

    Sekera¡¯s eyes roll at the unnecessary snide.

    The light of the device winks off without a warning. I clip it back to my waistband.

    ¡°Are you going to go?¡± she asks.

    I crack my neck obnoxiously. ¡°Maybe¡­ if I feel like it.¡±

    ~

    I rest my head against the tinted window, watching the raindrops race against each other.

    ¡°You really should put your seatbelt on,¡± Kaloaan mutters, sitting next to me at the back of one of his boxy police SUVs.

    I show him the finger without turning away and flap the opening of my shirt. It¡¯s already sweat stained from my run to the HQ, and the car heater isn¡¯t helping. I can smell my musk.

    ¡°Don¡¯t do anything rash.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re telling me?¡± I ask.

    That silences him.

    My hand scrunches into a fist in longing for Sekera¡¯s warmth. She¡¯d told me that she wanted our ¡®sunrises everyday¡¯ to come faster, so she needed to find Amethyst. I¡¯d told her to wait a day, so I could go with her. A day. Bitching impatient bitch. I¡¯d given her my weird ovular transmitter and told Kaloaan I¡¯d lost mine. He¡¯d given me his and said that he¡¯d have another made.

    The car turns pristinely into a driveway. ¡°We¡¯re here,¡± Tash says, leaning over from the passenger seat. Grell twists the key and the soft white hum stops. I swallow my nausea and step out into the rain. I follow the policemen figures inside. Inside the door, we pause, in a small, dusty room. Grell looks like a boulder, with his dripping beard, bald head and beady eyes. I watch as Tash has to duck his long form to get inside.

    ¡°Alright, it¡¯s just the two of us,¡± Kaloaan tells me.

    ¡°What?¡± Tash asks. ¡°Since when?¡±

    Kaloaan tightens his jaw. ¡°That was Zorikan¡¯s demand.¡±

    ¡°And if it goes south? You expect¡­¡± he gestures at me awkwardly, ¡°to have your back?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll be just out here. Take this earpiece, you¡¯ll hear everything that goes on inside.¡±If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    The officers snatch up the small metal pieces, a tentative look on Tash¡¯s face.

    Kaloaan then pulls his pistol out of its holster and hands it to him as well. Kaloaan and I walk through the heavy, bullet proof door. I notice him walking a step behind me. It¡¯s not because he rather I die than he, but he knows Zorikan won¡¯t kill him.

    The room is small with walls and a single, black table with two chairs on one side, and one on the other. Before sitting down, Kaloaan says, ¡°Alright, we¡¯re inside.¡±

    A crackly voice comes through a hidden microphone. ¡°Sit down.¡±

    Kaloaan sits, and I push my chair, in standing behind it.

    ¡°You too, Kallix.¡±

    I snort, slumping into the chair.

    The door across from us opens, and Zorikan eases into the room. He walks towards us with a ghastly look in his pale eyes. His gate is relaxed yet menacing at the same time. Nonchalant while authoritative. He pulls out the chair slowly, letting its legs drag on the ground, and sits down like a kingpin.

    ¡°So?¡± he asks, leaning forwards and folding his hands on the table. ¡°What can you do for me?¡±

    Kaloaan is stunned at the directness of his statement, but quickly hides it under his police rigid dark eyes. He too, leans forward, in a subtle challenge of Zorikan¡¯s power. ¡°You called this meeting. You tell me what you can do for me.¡±

    I take the moment to compare the two of them. Kaloaan is bigger and broader, but anybody can see the tired kindness in his eyes. Zorikan is leaner and more muscular, with something eel-like about him. His mouth is a dark straight line, and his rigid, defined cheekbones show no hit of a smile. The silver ring, dangling from his left earlobe only adds to his ¡°God of the Underworld¡± aura. It¡¯s then that I notice a new scar across his wrist. His visage is solid, but I know he¡¯s in no position to make demands here.

    ¡°I want you to stop trying to kill my men, so that I can deal with the larger threat at hand.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s an odd demand, coming from the one who commit arson on my head-quarters,¡± Kaloaan responds.

    Zorikan shrugs. It¡¯s an unnerving motion when coupled with his unwavering gaze. ¡°It was a retaliation. You killed one of my men, as I explicitly stated you shouldn¡¯t do.¡±

    He doesn¡¯t say anything about Dainin being his best friend.

    Kaloaan slams his hands on the table, the feeble justification flaring up his temper. ¡°You had kidnapped my brother.¡±

    ¡°Saved,¡± Zorikan corrects. ¡°Saved him. I¡¯m not sure where you were when he was being shot at by Qiara¡¯s assassins.¡±

    Kaloaan stands, the chair toppling over behind him and strides around the table. Zorikan looks at him, unflinching. ¡°Are you sure you want to keep talking like you have an army?¡±

    Zorikan laughs. ¡°I do, and if you aren¡¯t careful, you won¡¯t. So why don¡¯t you sit down, and stop behaving like an uneducated child cave man, and perhaps we can negotiate.¡±

    Kaloaan is fuming. Through gritted teeth he says, ¡°Qiara needs to go, but it won¡¯t be difficult to get rid of you first.¡±

    Zorikan smiles. ¡°It¡¯s no wonder Kallix refuses to live with you. You¡¯re a brute.¡±

    That makes Kaloaan snap, and he starts at Zorikan. But the King of Thieves is too fast, ducking out of the way. He kicks Kaloaan¡¯s knee and shoots a hand to his throat. Kaloaan grunts, pulling Zorikan off him and shoving him away.

    ¡°Stop, you idiots!¡± I holler, standing up as well.

    Kaloaan throws a punch, but Zorikan dodges, swiftly maneuvering around the Chief and leaping into a headlock. Kaloaan tries to flip him off his back, but can¡¯t. His face turns red.

    ¡°That¡¯s it!¡± I shout, standing and pulling the knife from my pocket. I realize that if Zorikan¡¯s got any back up, which he does, they¡¯ll be on me in a second. ¡°I¡¯m going to stab somebody.¡±

    Zorikan releases Kaloaan, who staggers into the table, gasping.

    ¡°I think it¡¯s clear the police force wants nothing to do with the Swifters. So we¡¯ll have to remove them from the picture before we get rid of Qiara.¡±

    ¡°Fool!¡± I bellow, through a voice crack. ¡°You know well enough that Qiara¡¯s killing off you Swifters faster than you can count. You know you don¡¯t have the man power or the weapons to take her out. I¡¯ve heard them talking, the Swifters aren¡¯t loyal to you anymore, Zorikan. They¡¯re thinking of a swift in leadership. Qiara is offering that.¡± The last part is a lie, but I know it will throw him off.

    His eyes narrow, and he calmly sits back down.

    ¡°And Kaloaan, you do have the manpower and the weapons to take her out, yet you¡¯ve accomplished nothing! No leads, no advancements, zero progress. She¡¯s too smart, to quick. Your academic mind can¡¯t think like her. She outmaneuvers you every dame time. You don¡¯t stand a bloody chance. And both of you are on her kill list! You¡¯ll probably both be out of the picture in a week¡¯s time if no change occurs.¡±

    Kaloaan is shocked by my outburst, and I can see gears start to shift in Zorikan¡¯s mind.

    ¡°I don¡¯t give a DAMN if that happens! Qiara can take over for all I care, she¡¯s probably better than that blasted mayor anyway! But you know who else is on the kill list besides you two baboons? Tauren, one of my best friends, so that is the ONLY damn reason I¡¯m hear screaming at you like your freaking teacher. So please for the love of the bastard god or whatever, stop bickering like old lovers and freaking figure out how to kill that bitch!¡±

    The two of them are stunned into silence.

    And then all hell breaks loose.

    The first thing I see is Tash, barreling through the door and diving into Kaloaan, tackling him to the ground. Grell staggers through after him, an assault rifle in one hand while his other holds his side. ¡°Qiara,¡± he gasps, stepping to the side of the doorway.

    Zorikan and I duck behind the desk just as a flurry of bullets rip through the door.

    ¡°Snake¡¯s found us! Get in here,¡± Zorikan hisses into a walkie.

    Kaloaan pushes Tash off him. ¡°Kallix! Kallix are you alright?¡± he asks, army crawling to me.

    I nod. Bullets glance against the metal desk. I lie down flat, peering under. I see an assassin, with the telltale red and black camo of Qiara¡¯s men, walking wearily forwards with an assault rifle. He stands at the doorway, inches from Grell.

    ¡°I can¡¯t see any of them,¡± he whispers.

    ¡°Must¡¯ve escaped. C¡¯mon before they get too far,¡± another, out of my sight replies.

    The first assassin takes a step in and is instantly gunned down by Grell.

    ¡°Shit!¡± one of them hisses, and a grenade is hurled inside.

    Kaloaan literally flattens himself on top of me as it explodes. Thank god the desk his metal.

    The back door opens and five or so swifters enter, sliding Zorikan a gun. Flashbacks of the shootout in the dunes reopen the scars in my mind as I go deaf with gunfire. The next events happen in a series of blurs and screams.

    I can see Grell shooting down the assassins that go through the doorway, but he¡¯s got shrapnel in his side. I almost hurl in horror as he tries to dive behind the desk, but another bullet rips through his torso. Kaloaan manages to pull him around.

    ¡°Grell! Grell can you hear me?¡±

    All I can do is watch as blood soaks his beard. He splutters inaudible words, his massive hand outstretched. All I catch is ¡®Adrikar,¡¯ and ¡®sorry¡¯.

    One of the Swifters is shot, and we¡¯re flooded.

    Kaloaan half drags me out of the room and into the hallway. It¡¯s needless to say that we¡¯re nearly shot a dozen times.

    Tash and Zorikan leap through after us. ¡°Come on,¡± Zorikan huffs, barreling past us.

    Regretfully, I glance over my shoulder, only to see another Swifter being pummeled into the hall with bullets. An explosion shakes the building so much that Kaloaan and Tash are thrown off their feet.

    We round a few corners before Zorikan stops at a circular trap door, turning a wheel latch to open it. ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± he instructs.

    Kaloaan shakes his head. ¡°No, SUVs right there.¡± He nods at the dusty window. The car¡¯s only a couple feet away.

    ¡°No. You¡¯ll die. She must have snipers everywhere!¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve got the truce, but you things your way, and I¡¯ll do things mine,¡± Kaloaan says, bluntly.

    Two of the swifters scramble into the room. ¡°They¡¯re behind us. We need to hurry.¡±

    Kaloaan snatches Zorikans gun and shoots out the window, vaulting out. Tash follows him. I¡¯m conflicted for a moment, but I remember that there¡¯s no way in hell I want to spend more time with Zorikan, so I go with them.

    We duck to the car, opening the doors as bullets begin to strike. Kaloaan and I dive into the back while Tash gets the wheel and slams down the accelerator.

    Bullet marks form on the rear and side bullet proof windows as we careen onto the road. I look back, seeing one of the snipers shooting at us in vain. We¡¯re safe.

    ¡°Tash! Sniper!¡± Kaloaan hollers, pointing ahead. I see the glint a second to late.

    I¡¯ve already felt the bullet rip through Tash¡¯s brains, and then through mine before it¡¯s shot, aimed perfectly at his head¡­ but the windscreen stops it, sending a spiderweb of cracks. This is some tough ass glass.

    The next bullet comes, but Tash¡¯s swerved out of the way, so it hits the metal frame of the car. The third bullet hits the edge of the windscreen, spreading the cracks even more.

    Kaloaan grabs my head and forces me down as a bullet shatters the screen, giving Tash a face-full of glass. The car veers left and hits something solid, crushing the hood, nearly flipping forwards, and sending Tash flying out the gaping hole where the windscreen had been.

    Kaloaan and I slam painfully against the seats in front of us. Before my head¡¯s stopped spinning, I¡¯ve been hauled out of the car. We scramble for the cover of the alleys, but another clean sniper shot booms in my ears.

    Kaloaan topples forwards with a bellow of pain, and I¡¯m forced to leap over him so I don¡¯t trip.

    ¡°Kalo!¡± I gasp, crouching beside him. I can hear the seconds counting in my ear before I¡¯m shot.

    ¡°Go! Go!¡± he shouts, trying to haul himself to his feet. His left leg is completely limp.

    There¡¯s the next shot. I don¡¯t feel anything.

    Kaloaan somehow manages to stand, tackling me behind a building. My vision goes hazy as I see his face, spinning as he holds my cheeks. My neck feels hot. The rest of my body feels cold.

    He looks worried. Scared. Genuinely scared. I peer to the left, seeing his hand covered in bright red blood. My blood. Is that my blood? I don¡¯t feel anything. Just cold. Really cold. And hot. Wait how does that make...

 3.8: The Wondering Wanderer

    8

    Sterile white lights blind me.

    I hope this isn¡¯t heaven.

    Something soft brushes across my face.

    Is that an angel¡¯s wing?

    Wait, it¡¯s blue. Angles are blue?

    Nope, just a paramedic.

    Shit. Still alive.

    ¡­

    ¡°Owwwwwwwwwwwww,¡± I breath, tilting my head back in pain. That only makes it worse. ¡°Shit¡­ jeez¡­ bitch bastard, don¡¯t touch me!¡± I swat away a gloved hand.

    ¡°Stop moving, you¡¯re going to hurt yourself,¡± the doctor says.

    ¡°I don¡¯t¡­ why is it so bright?¡± I demand. ¡°Shades! Where are my goddamn shades?¡±

    ¡°You haven¡¯t got any,¡± she responds.

    I hear the woosh of curtains, and the room darkens drastically. My eyes unscrunch at last.

    The room isn¡¯t pristine and ugly, but darker, woodier, and a tad bit more lively. Real potted flowers line the window, and the furniture isn¡¯t entirely white. My eyes glide across the scape, until they stop abruptly. A few feet away from me, is another bed, with a big form resting on it, mostly covered in thin hospital sheets.

    ¡°Your brother¡¯s alright,¡± she reassures.

    I want to breathe a sigh of relief, but instead I say, ¡°Of course he is.¡± Turning my neck even the slightest bit sends a sting of pain down my left side.

    She shakes her head vigorously. ¡°No. We nearly lost him. And you too.¡±

    ¡°Why? What¡­¡± the violence barges back into my memory. ¡°Ah shit.¡±

    She nods. ¡°The bullet tore through the side of your neck. You would¡¯ve bled out in less than a minute if he wasn¡¯t there.¡±

    I close my eyes and grimace.

    ¡°He was shot too,¡± the doctor continues. ¡°Once in the leg, and then in the back.¡±

    ¡°Through his spine?¡± I ask, scared shitless.

    ¡°No.¡±

    I exhale like an elephant.

    ¡°But he lost a kidney. We¡¯re looking for a replacement.¡±

    ¡°Wait, I got shot through the neck?¡±

    ¡°Well, it was more of a graze.¡±

    ¡°How did I not bleed out?¡±

    ¡°You did. You lost enough blood to kill someone of your¡­ weight category.¡±

    ¡°So then? I¡¯m an AB negative, how¡¯d you find a donor fast enough?¡±

    She nods at Kaloaan again. ¡°He gave you everything you needed.¡±

    I¡¯m speechless. ¡°Wh¡­ ha¡­¡± I stutter, but no words can force themselves through then knot in my throat.

    The doctor winces at my expression, then swiftly turns as a knock on the door echoes through the room. Before she goes to let the visitor in, the door opens. She quickly steps out of the way as his unharmed form stalks in. Zorikan. ¡°You¡¯re brother¡¯s an idiot.¡±

    I cough. A stinging itch sears in my neck. ¡°A noble one.¡±

    From my immovable vision, I can see far too many chairs than necessary. Zorikan sits in none. I want to ask how in the hell he¡¯s in a hospital, but I feel like I should already know.

    As usual, his pale, unwavering gaze tears directly through nonexistent fa?ade. ¡°It¡¯s my hospital,¡± he says, as if he¡¯s talking about a car.

    ¡°Since when do you have a hospital?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve told you many times, I have a lot of allies, and a lot more power than your brother might think. But that¡¯s besides the point,¡± he glances at Kaloaan.

    ¡°Have you given any reassurance to the police force that Kaloaan¡¯s alive? They¡¯ll come looking for him.¡±

    He nods once. ¡°I sent the detective. Told him to tell them that he¡¯d come back in due time.¡±

    ¡°Tash is alive?¡±

    ¡°Broke his femur in half. I don¡¯t think he¡¯ll be walking without crutches for a while, but yeah. Now sleep, I¡¯ve got a lot of news to tell you when your brother wakes up.¡± With that, he leaves, shutting the door swiftly behind him.

    I exhale, long and soft through my nose. My neck feels like a collection of thumbtacks have been stuck in it. ¡°Kaloaan. Kaloaan,¡± I call.

    There¡¯s no response whatsoever. His muscular form beneath the hospital gown could just as well have been dead, and there¡¯d be no difference.

    I chew on my cheeks.

    One day he will be, if I keep getting myself into shit like this.

    ~

    When I awake, Kaloaan¡¯s holding an impossibly thin tablet a few inches from his face and attacking it with a flurry of taps and swipes with his other hand.

    ¡°Morning,¡± I mutter, scratching crust from my eyes.

    ¡°It¡¯s late afternoon,¡± he responds, not taking his eyes off his tablet.

    ¡°What are you doing?¡±

    ¡°Trying to find out where we are.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re in Zorikan¡¯s hospital.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± he sets the tablet down. ¡°Zorikan¡¯s what?¡±

    ¡°I told you. He¡¯s got a lot more allies than you think. And yes, he did save our asses.¡± I instantly wince as I remember the blood Kaloaan gave me.

    He lies back and folds his arms. ¡°So what? We¡¯re his prisoners now?¡±

    I shrug. ¡°What difference does it make? Tash¡¯s been sent back to the force to explain what¡¯s happened. I think¡­¡±If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    I trail off as the door opens and Zorikan steps in. He addresses Kaloaan, without acknowledgement of my existence. ¡°Javvak Targavrika. Ever heard of him?¡±

    Kaloaan narrows his eyes. ¡°I might¡¯ve. He was a mercenary for Tuurig Viscas wasn¡¯t he?¡±

    ¡°Assassin,¡± Zorikan corrects. ¡°But when he got a different offer, he killed Tuurig and went to work for his new boss.¡±

    It strikes me that the name Javvak was the same as one of the two that had attacked Zorikan and I in the sewers. Javvak and Blitz.

    ¡°Qiara, I assume,¡± Kaloaan murmers.

    ¡°Correct. Sources say he¡¯s killed six people on her list, and nearly fourteen off it.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I know him. He¡¯s nearing the top of our blacklist.¡±

    ¡°Well then you¡¯d be pleased to learn that we¡¯ve captured him.¡±

    Kaloaan meets Zorikans gaze. A difficult feat for a normal man, but Kaloaan is much more than that.

    ¡°And tortured him.¡± Zorikan lets the crude word roll roughly out of his mouth. He knows it¡¯s a word that every police would react to. Even when delivering news, he¡¯s trying to pry Kaloaan open.

    But the chief remains rigid.

    ¡°Would you like to come see him? It¡¯s quite an interesting thing to behold.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re fine as we are, thank you.¡±

    Kaloaan¡¯s aggressive formality clashes against Zorikan¡¯s collected metal words.

    ¡°What did you find?¡±

    ¡°The exact location of Qiara¡¯s base¡­ and how many guards there are.¡±

    ¡°Well?¡±

    ¡°Ramli Vvickander Enasrus?¡±

    ¡°Excuse me?¡±

    ¡°You heard me.¡±

    I repeat the odd name tentatively, and it unfurls over my tongue like gnarled spores in damp soil. ¡°What about him?¡±

    ¡°Qiara¡¯s headquarters are in his office building. We know exactly where it is. Now it¡¯s only a matter of when we¡¯re ready.¡±

    ¡°Now,¡± Kaloaan grunts, attempting in vain to sit up. ¡°Tomorrow, whenever¡¯s fastest.¡±

    Zorikan sighs like a teacher whose student repeatedly fails to understand the simplest of concepts. ¡°Once your brother grows some braincells,¡± he says to me, ¡°then perhaps we can discuss further.¡± He turns elegantly and strides towards the door.

    I snicker at his pale eyed arrogance.

    ¡°Hey!¡± Kaloaan shouts. ¡°Hey wait! I need to get back! When can I go back?¡±

    Zorikan pauses at the threshold, about to ease through the slightly ajar door. A soft, rare, shark-like smile crawls onto his face, of which I can only see the side profile. ¡°I¡¯m glad you¡¯ve finally learnt to ask permission from me.¡±

    ~

    I run my calloused hand over the thick bandage on my neck. Pain runs into my shoulder as if the plaster is nailed to my flesh. Kaloaan¡¯s blacked out again from blood loss, and his snoring sounds like a drummer with a gong. Screw this.

    I lace a finger over the plastic tube stuck into the back of my hand, following it up to the clear bag of translucent fluid, dangling from a coat hanger on wheels. Or whatever it is. Plasma, or something, is what¡¯s in the bag. I don¡¯t know. Don¡¯t care either.

    Screw it.

    I tear the drip from my hand, wincing as a flap of skin wilts off side of my palm. Like a wolf, I lick my wound. The metallic taste spritzes life into my psyche.

    I amble out of the room, leaving the door ajar and drift down the hallway. It¡¯s nothing like the massive skyscraper Sekera had been stuck in for so long. I can see actual wood. Real wood. I¡¯m in East Side.

    This is Zorikan¡¯s hospital? What?

    I wonder as I wander, leaving a breadcrumb-trail of blood behind me.

    I¡¯ve seen his base, how few Swifters he has left, and how wavery their loyalty is. How¡¯s it possible that he owns an entire hospital? It¡¯s not like he bought it. He couldn¡¯t just legally purchase it. It¡¯s not like he just captured it, that¡¯s an idiotic move, plus it would be swarming with police. Who¡¯s the chief here? Adrikar, yeah, that bastard. The one who couldn¡¯t put down the Raven¡¯s Nest. Ah, shit, that¡¯s still a thing. Seems small compared to all this. Gotta go back there one day, with an actual team. Actually no, screw that, Adrikar can do it himself. Not getting myself killed over some dumbass bansilin.

    A wave of lightheadedness splashes into me as I climb a second flight of stairs. I groan, gripping the banister and widening my stance. I¡¯d much rather be hungover. Through slightly bleary vision, I read that I¡¯ve reached the sixth and final floor. This hospital¡¯s miniature compared to the West Side ones. Why don¡¯t I live here again?

    As I make it up the last stairs, I see that this is no medical ward. There¡¯s one of those walk-through metal detectors, but nobody around to check me. I squeeze past it. My bare feet go icy against the glossy synthetic granite floor. The hallway is short, with only two doors, one at each end. Left. Always left. Not sure why, just always.

    I move to the door and run my hand over its wooden fa?ade. It¡¯s fake as well. I press my ear to it, but there¡¯s no noise. Slowly, I turn the metal handle and push it open. There¡¯s nothing but a large, over the top round table, several tall backed wheeled chairs and a projector. Boring.

    I walk back across to the other room, and my interest sparkles as soon as the muffled murmurs tickle my ears. This ones in use. I press my ear to the door, trying to catch something of what¡¯s being said.

    ¡°¡­ spreading across the bridge? At your current state? That seems unwise.¡±

    ¡°Are you even recruiting anymore?¡±

    ¡°We still need to discuss the issue of percentages. Last month wasn¡¯t favorable for any of us.¡±

    The distinct, stone dagger of a voice cuts above the others. ¡°I need to deal with Qiara first, all other concerns are secondary,¡± Zorikan says.

    Oh, shit I need to see this.

    Fast as a rat I make for the window at the end of the hall and swing it open. Lightheadedness crashes into me, more like a wave that a playful splash this time. Might not be the best idea to go climbing right now. Too bad I¡¯m built on bad ideas.

    Thankfully, there¡¯s an odd, eccentric fake-wood design on the outside of the hospital, providing me dozens of easy hand holds. I become a cockroach and scuttle out, quickly finding one of the many massive windows illuminating the conference room. I can¡¯t stop myself from glancing over my shoulder to behold the scattered and balanced beauty that is East Side. A tiny dog throws a fit at me from the road.

    Also, thankfully, the glass isn¡¯t soundproof.

    ¡°How many of your¡­ Swifter¡¯s¡­ has Qiara already killed?¡± asks a stout man with a thick mustache and a brown suit.

    ¡°That¡¯s besides the point,¡± Zorikan responds quickly.

    To my astonishment, he¡¯s not sitting at the head of the table. Instead, there¡¯s a tall, greying, vulture-like woman in a pinstripe suite. He looks so sickly and kempt that I grow nauseous.

    Zorikan is next, sitting across from the brown suited man. After them are a hefty, bearded man in constructors clothes, and a woman who might as well be a librarian.

    ¡°Oh I think it very much is the point,¡± Librarian presses. ¡°We can¡¯t let you take these matters into your own hands if you haven¡¯t got the matter. And if you lose men, then it¡¯s only fit that I reduce the food shipments we¡¯ve been sending you.¡±

    ¡°I just told you. We haven¡¯t lost many Swifters, and all those we¡¯ve lost will soon be replaced.¡±

    ¡°So, then you need to tell me how I am to help you,¡± mustache demands. His small, round form shows no fear to the shark king. ¡°I can get information about this Vvickander character, but I need specifics.¡±

    ¡°I already told you, I have it under control. You all just need to keep doing your part and I assure you that once she¡¯s dealt with, your spoils will increase.¡±

    ¡°You told us that last month as well,¡± Vulture sneers, leaning forwards on her chair. ¡°I¡¯ve had twelve patients of yours now, and there will be questions about the chief being in my hospital. Who again is the boy?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s unimportant,¡± he shoots, through gritted teeth. ¡°Your job is to get my injured back on their feet. You¡¯ve been doing it well, so don¡¯t stop.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps, but the fees are outweighing what I¡¯m getting from you. This is to be profitable, remember?¡±

    Zorikan shoots her with a stare that would disintegrate a child.

    ¡°And the weapons?¡± asks Constructor. ¡°I¡¯ve no problem going a month without pay, so long as the next is doubled.¡±

    Zorikan nods. ¡°I assure you,¡± he says, extensively slowly. ¡°But I¡¯ll need more guns.¡±

    Constructor raises an eyebrow. ¡°Then I¡¯ll have to reduce another section.¡±

    ¡°All of them,¡± Zorikan responds.

    ¡°Don¡¯t let him push you around,¡± Librarian hisses.

    Zorikan snarls.

    ¡°I want the pay, now. You¡¯re in no position to take out Qiara. I¡¯ll revoke my shipments to you.¡±

    ¡°Will you now?¡± Zorikan asks, pushing back his chair.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Librarian says, defiantly.

    ¡°You¡¯ve given us no choice,¡± Vulture says, ¡°I might need to halt the supply shipments as well.¡±

    ¡°Alright then.¡± He calmly stands up and cracks his knuckles. ¡°Corgal, I trust we¡¯re fine?¡± he asks Constructor.

    He nods gruffly.

    ¡°Visichen?¡±

    Mustache grumbles for a moment. ¡°Yes, but if this prolongs a day beyond our agreed time, you¡¯re on your own.¡±

    ¡°And Birlissia?¡±

    Vulture¡¯s beady eyes flit through the others. ¡°I may need some time to decide.¡±

    ¡°Very well,¡± Zorikan nods.

    ¡°I¡¯ve told you¡­¡± Librarian starts again.

    She doesn¡¯t reach the end of her sentence.

    Zorikan is behind her in half a second, slammed her head onto the table and presses a knife to her jugular. She shrieks in terror.

    Vulture jolts in her seat, and Constructor stands, his hands flying behind his head. Mustache seems unphased.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry!¡± Librarian cries. ¡°We can extend a month! I¡¯m sure I can figure something out! Guaranteed!¡±

    ¡°Yeah?¡±

    ¡°Yes! I swear! I swear on my life!¡±

    Zorikan slices through her neck like he¡¯s chopping vegetables for dinner. No sound escapes her torn throat as her eyes glaze over and blood erupts onto the table. He releases the back of her head, letting her body crumple to the ground, then proceeds to clean his knife with a grey handkerchief.

    I¡¯m so startled I nearly lose my grip. Dizziness washes over me again and I force my fingers to clamp down on the wooden grooves. I¡¯m tired.

    ¡°Have you¡­ reconsidered, Ms. Birlissa?¡± he asks Vulture.

    ¡°People will ask questions,¡± she sighs.

    Zorikan lets a brief, hellish smile flicker on his face for a moment. ¡°Then give them answers.¡± He makes for the door.

    ¡°You¡¯ve made a mistake, King Shark,¡± Constructor calls.

    Zorikan pauses, and looks over his shoulder, just like he did to Kaloaan in the hospital room. ¡°Perhaps, but I don¡¯t need food, I need guns. Increase the shipment to the required barrel count. We¡¯ll discuss further in a months time¡­ when Qiara¡¯s dead.¡±

    And with that, he¡¯s gone, and the door swings closed behind him.

    Oh, and I also lose my grip and fall.

 3.9: The Jaw Drop

    9

    Ok so I was kidding about falling, but I almost did. I¡¯m Kallix Rane, I don¡¯t fall, remember? But I did nearly. Thankfully, I¡¯ve scrambled back into bed, with Kaloaan still asleep. I don¡¯t bother with the drip, but it wouldn¡¯t have made a difference if I had wanted too. Thin bright clouds were so cramped into my skull that it felt like I was on an intense weed high, without any of the high.

    Unfortunately, Zorikan plowed through the door a few moments later, just as I was gratefully sinking into slumber.

    ¡°Wake up. We¡¯re going.¡±

    Kaloaan grunts. ¡°Huh? Going where?¡±

    ¡°West Side.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re in East Side?¡±

    Zorikan doesn¡¯t bother answering the question. ¡°Be ready to move. We¡¯re leaving now.¡±

    For a moment, I think that his meeting¡¯s affected him, rendering him blunt and icy, but then I remember that he¡¯s always been like that.

    Wait, has he? He certainly couldn¡¯t have been like that as a child, so then when did that happen? What even caused that? What was he actually like as a kid? Or as a teenager?

    The door slams shut, jolting me out of thought.

    Kaloaan runs his hand over his face with a long, exasperated sigh.

    My eyes meet his.

    ¡°We¡¯ve got a lot of preparations to make.¡±

    ¡°We?¡± I ask, eyebrow raised.

    ¡°Yeah¡­ I don¡¯t want you involved in this, and you know that, but it¡¯s not like telling you anything will change you. I give up Kallix. You win. You have won,¡± he says slowly, like he¡¯s admitting his demise in an extended, strenuous chess game.

    I swallow. It¡¯s been a while since he¡¯s spoken sense. ¡°Hey.¡±

    ¡°Yeah?¡±

    ¡°If I die¡­ during all this¡­ don¡¯t blame yourself, ok?¡±

    ¡°Why? If I died, you¡¯d blame yourself. You¡¯d probably hate yourself.

    ¡­

    Sucks that I kind of already do.

    ~

    I shrug. ¡°Too bad, I¡¯m not going back to the hospital.¡±

    Kaloaan groans. ¡°God-damnit Kallix.¡±

    ¡°No. I said I¡¯m not. I¡¯ll go to the Swifters and¡­ find out what time we¡¯re going¡­ or something.¡±

    ¡°Three days. Including this one.¡±

    ¡°Three days? You¡¯ll still be incapacitated!¡±

    Kaloaan shakes his head. ¡°Best med tech in the world here. I¡¯ll be fine by day after tomorrow.¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t Tash lead the assault?¡±

    ¡°Snapped his femur, remember? He¡¯s not even coming.¡±

    ¡°Ok¡­ well then I¡¯ll just¡­¡± my words drip to the cement as I see a couple on the sidewalk. They stop, a few paces from us, just as shocked. ¡°Oh great,¡± I mumble.

    ¡°Mom, dad,¡± Kaloaan breathes, racing forwards and embracing both of them in a massive bear hug.

    With the three of them together, I notice that Kaloaan is far taller than both my parents, and much broader than my dad. Huh, guess I was stunted from malnutrition or something.

    ¡°You look¡­ terrible,¡± Mom says, looking over her son. ¡°Were you hurt? Are you okay?¡±

    Kaloaan nods. ¡°Yeah. I¡­ got in a scuffle with a couple of Qiara¡¯s men. Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯m alright.¡±

    Dad¡¯s eyes drift off his son and linger on me for a moment. ¡°Hi Kallix.¡±

    I nod at him, shoving my hands deep into my pockets. My shoulder throbs with tension.

    My mother hugs Kaloaan again.

    ¡°You haven¡¯t come over in a while, Kaloaan,¡± Dad says, pulling his eyes from my unappealing visage.

    ¡°I know, I know, but I really have to deal with Qiara first.¡±

    He¡¯s lucky. His uniform hides his bandages.

    ¡°Oh dear,¡± Mom breathes as she sees the thick, dirty bandage on the side of my neck. She rushes to me, her mom instincts kicking in, then stops tentatively, a pace away from me.

    My gaze meets hers, for the first time in months. Maybe years.

    Slowly, as if she¡¯s trying to pet a rabid dog, she brushes a strand of black hair away from my face. It¡¯s so long that it reaches my collar bone now. ¡°Are you¡­ ok? What happened?¡±This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

    I shrug, making her flinch and withdraw her hand. ¡°Kaloaans scuffle,¡± I murmur.

    Mom¡¯s face twists with worry.

    ¡°You look like you could use a place to stay for a little while,¡± my spindly dad says, struggling to lift his gaze from the pavement.

    ¡°I always do.¡±

    He folds, easily defeated, and soothes a rupture in his combed back hair. It¡¯s as ravenously black as mine, only glossier. His thin fingers twitch in the same way mine do. His cheeks are hollow, and his eyes sunken, just like mine.

    And yet I don¡¯t think he could be anything less like me.

    Mom is flustered. ¡°Kallix you¡­ we think¡­ it looks¡­¡±. She¡¯s unable to even formulate a sentence beneath my sullen, fox-like gaze.

    ¡°What was that?¡± I ask, taunting her.

    Kaloaan steps in. The mediator of the family, as he always was. It¡¯s probably been nearly three years since the four of us were together. ¡°I think Kallix should be on his way. He¡¯s got a lot of business to attend to. Right, Kallix?¡±

    Lifelessness radiates from my expression. ¡°Tons business. Tons and tons of it.¡±

    Kaloaan¡¯s eyes scrunch shut, as if he¡¯s begging me to leave.

    Why keep him waiting.

    I turn on my heel, and walk away, shifting between lolling my head back to look at the ever grey sky and hanging it low to analyze the tiny sparkles in the sidewalk.

    I could have stayed. I could have unleashed every drop of boiled up anger I¡¯ve been keeping stuffed inside me for so long. I could have called them terrible parents. They would¡¯ve known that I wasn¡¯t lying. I could¡¯ve shouted every word I¡¯ve kept for them right down their bansilin laced throats.

    But that would¡¯ve attracted attention, and if any Qiara¡¯n assassin were to so much get a hint of it¡­ even if Kaloaan and I escaped, it would be over. Would I mind, honestly, if Mom and Dad were killed? Would I? Would it affect me? It would take a load off my shoulders if they were. I wouldn¡¯t be as¡­ guilty? That¡¯s¡­ not the right word. Why would I be guilty. No, that¡¯s bullshit. Screw it. Screw that. Screw everything.

    I long to scamper across the rooftops of West Side, but I¡¯m weak and I need to rest. I should talk to Sekera. No, I wouldn¡¯t even know were she is. How about I¡­

    My train of thought is halted and blown to bits as I catch a man in a brown suit and dark cap standing across the road and staring directly at me. I¡¯m definite that I¡¯ve never seen him before.

    By instinct, I move behind the nearest shelter I find, a dented, silver saloon car, and make a quick scan of the rooftops. Don¡¯t see anything. I look back at him.

    He beckons me stiffly, with evident urgency in his dark eyes. He too glances at the rooftops but doesn¡¯t move.

    That¡¯s a good sign. I think.

    I upturn my hands in the universal gesture of, ¡®what the hell?¡¯

    He pulls of his cap and wipes sweat from his bald head before looking back at me, very worriedly. Why isn¡¯t he saying anything?

    He beckons me again.

    Screw it, he looks harmless enough. Maybe Qiara¡¯s using a new tactic at getting me. Clearly her assassins are incapable.

    I scan the rooftops once more, then both direction of the street before I cross, making my way to his side.

    ¡°At last,¡± he breathes with a thick East Side accent.

    ¡°Who are you and what do you want?¡±

    ¡°Hold on,¡± he says, grabbing my arm and pulling me between a coffee shop and a laundromat.

    I skitter away from him, ready to parkour the hell out of here as he reaches into his pocket.

    I¡¯m already halfway up a fire escape when I see that its just a phone. He hasn¡¯t even noticed my take off. Whoever this is, they aren¡¯t a fighter.

    ¡°Yes,¡± he says into the phone with a sigh of relief. ¡°Yeah he¡¯s here. He¡¯s alright and in one piece.¡±

    I drop back onto the asphalt.

    ¡°No¡­ no I don¡¯t know. How was I supposed to¡­? Ok, sorry. Yes, I will. I know. Ok, I¡¯m giving him the phone, one second¡­¡±

    I take the heating piece of metal from him and hold it tentatively to my ear. ¡°Hello?¡±

    ¡°Kallix!¡±

    Oh, thank god. It¡¯s just Tauren. This must be one of her drivers. ¡°Hey,¡± I respond. ¡°What¡¯s up.¡±

    ¡°That whole shootout downtown!¡± she cries. ¡°Is Kaloaan dead? He¡¯s been missing for days! And where you involved in it?¡±

    ¡°No, no he¡¯s not dead. He¡¯s back on his feet. Yeah, I was there, but I¡¯m fine too. What is it, why did you call me?¡±

    ¡°We need to meet¡­ now. I have bad news and we have to act on it ASAP. I hope Barron over there hasn¡¯t given you any trouble.¡±

    The brown suited, bald man gives an awkward smile.

    ¡°No. Not at all.¡±

    ¡°At least. You gave him a ton of trouble finding you. Point is, you need to ride with him to my place. We have to talk now now now.¡±

    ¡°Ok¡­ ok, alright I¡¯m coming. Relax.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t tell me to relax, this is anything but the time to relax.¡±

    ~

    My nostrils fill with the nostalgic smell of Tauren¡¯s perfume as she buries me in her embrace. I feel an odd sense of comfort wash over me as I enter her extravagant home. ¡°So? What is it?¡± I ask her, stepping in a backwards circle as I gaze at the weirdly wonderful artwork on her walls. Sure, Wesslin may have been a valiant prick, but he did come with a pay-off. Yes, I know I¡¯m a dick for thinking that. ¡°Are you sure you didn¡¯t just want to spend more time with me?¡± I prod with a smile.

    She smiles back. Come to think of it, the way her green eyes crease as she smiles is actually really cute. Maybe we could mess around a bit, later on.

    She touches the left side of my neck. It¡¯s still red and hideous. ¡°What¡­¡±

    I grind my teeth. ¡°Got shot. In the skirmish. Relax, it¡¯ll be fine.¡±

    She swallows heavily. ¡°Kallix you could¡¯ve¡­¡±

    ¡°I know. Move on.¡±

    She blinks, taking a moment to register how differently life could¡¯ve gone should Blitz¡¯s aim been a tad bit better. Huh, would¡¯ve affected her a lot more than it would¡¯ve affected me.

    ¡°It¡¯s going to leave a huge scar,¡± she concludes.

    I shrug. ¡°A badass one. Now tell me why I¡¯m here¡­ please.¡±

    I¡¯m guided by her soft, long fingered hand to her sofa. My calloused hands have trouble identifying the fabric beneath them. She takes a deep breath. ¡°You¡¯re not going to like this.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t expect to,¡± I murmur, after a moment.

    ¡°We got Qiara¡¯s updated kill-list.¡±

    ¡°And?¡±

    ¡°And¡­. you¡¯re on it now. Whatever she wanted with you alive¡­is gone. She wants you dead, just like the rest of us.¡±

    ¡°So? What difference does that make?¡±

    ¡°A huge one. You see she¡¯s been unable to progress because she can¡¯t access me in my house, Kaloaan is the goddamn chief of police and has survived assassination twice, and Zorikan is harder to kill that a radioactive cockroach.¡±

    I shrug. I know all that already.

    ¡°But you¡­ live on the streets and aren¡¯t exactly the definition of subtle.¡±

    ¡°And¡­?¡±

    She whips out her phone and scrolls for a moment. Then, she reads my lifestyle description to the day, followed by my physical attributes and where I¡¯m most likely to be found. All of it, every word, is true.

    ¡°How did you get this?¡± I ask.

    ¡°I spent a nauseating sum of money on a bounty hunting hacker, called Jivvizen. This is what her assassins know of you. If you leave here now, you¡¯ll be dead in a few days.¡±

    Can¡¯t argue with that. ¡°I¡¯ve escaped her before. I know how to deal with-¡±

    ¡°No, you don¡¯t. You know how to deal with police and gangs and bullies, not assassins.¡±

    ¡°And? I¡¯ve been dealing with things I don¡¯t know how to deal with for my entire life.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, but I have a say in your life now. Sorry,¡± she gives a small laugh. ¡°I¡¯m, kind of your best friend,¡± she says, laying her hand on my thigh. Sekera flashes before my eyes. ¡°So I¡¯ve been thinking about this. You need to get off the grid. Lay low until Kaloaan sorts this out.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorting it out with him.¡± I brief her on Kaloaan and Zorikan¡¯s plan to storm Vvickander¡¯s tower. ¡°And I¡¯m going with them. Like it or not.¡±

    She sighs in disappointment. ¡°Regardless, there¡¯s a good two weeks until they¡¯re prepared, and in two weeks¡­¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll be dead.¡±

    ¡°Exactly. Which is why you need to get out.¡±

    ¡°What do you suggest? The Dunes? If you give me the supplies and equipment, I could make two weeks work, so long as no bitch ass military pulls up.¡±

    Tauren shakes her head. ¡°You need to disappear entirely. Become a new person.¡±

    ¡°A new person? I quite like myself as I am.¡±

    ¡°And so does Qiara. So the change is happening.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean? I¡¯m not sure I like where this is going.¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ Kallix¡­ don¡¯t kill me but¡­ I¡¯ve enrolled you in school.¡±

 3.10: To the Kennel

    10

    ¡°You¡¯re¡­ you¡¯re kidding me, right?¡±

    Tauren shakes her head, with a heavy wince pulling down her face.

    ¡°That¡¯s probably the most idiotic thing I¡¯ve ever heard.¡±

    ¡°I know, and that¡¯s precisely why its ingenious. Qiara knows you¡­ inside out, apparently. God knows who told her.¡± My mind unconsciously flickers to Rieka. That bitch. No, she¡¯s still loyal to Zorikan. Somehow. ¡°Which is why Northmarch High Academy for Prospering Youth is the absolute last place you would ever be.¡±

    ¡°How¡­ that doesn¡¯t even make sense¡­¡±

    ¡°You know it does, Kallix.¡±

    I spit a string of all the curse words I can recall. ¡°Say I was even going to agree to this, which I won¡¯t, how would I even get in? Logistically, I mean. It¡¯s the middle of the term, isn¡¯t it? Prospering Youth? I¡¯m the exact opposite of that.¡±

    ¡°Relax, there¡¯re already a dozen strings I¡¯ve pulled. I¡¯ve faked all your past reports and recommendation letters. You¡¯re a¡­ pleasant student with fair grades, innovative ideas, good collaborative skills and a brief history of aggressiveness.¡±

    ¡°Collaborative skills? Are you insane?¡±

    ¡°No. Nor am I high. This is going to work, trust me.¡±

    ¡°No! No, what the hell? School is prison! School, hospitals and prison are all literally the same shit with different names.¡±

    ¡°And how many times have you been to the hospital?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I only go unwillingly, and because if I don¡¯t then I will literally die!¡±

    ¡°Then we¡¯ve got the exact same case here,¡± she concludes with a grim smile.

    ¡°Ah shit,¡± I sigh, realizing that I¡¯ve talked myself into a ditch.

    ¡°Great,¡± she says. I¡¯m not sure if her enthusiasm is forced or not. ¡°Your uniform will be delivered tomorrow, and you¡¯ll move in day after that.¡±

    I let out a long, exasperated sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. Tension flares up in my shoulder. ¡°I hate you.¡±

    She lets out a little giggle. ¡°I know.¡±

    ¡°Wait, wait,¡± I call, just as she¡¯s leaving. ¡°I¡¯ve got some demands first¡­ before I go.¡±

    She sits back down, taking my hand in her lap. ¡°Of course.¡±

    ¡°Painkillers. A load of them. For my tension¡­ the ones Kaloaan used to get me¡­ and also more for my neck¡­ it like, hurts a lot.¡±

    Tauren upturns her eyebrows. ¡°Does it now.¡±

    ¡°Like, oh my god Tauren you have no idea what I¡¯m going through,¡± I say, putting on my best spoilt rich kid voice. ¡°I can¡¯t deal with this trauma, like I need these meds, like please, baby.¡±

    She nods. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll get them.¡±

    ¡°And some LCD,¡± I call, just before she gets up again.

    ¡°Excuse me.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, just a little bid. I mean, its not like I¡¯m going to be talking to anybody, so like¡­? Tripping a little bit will be my only pass time.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re very evidently the insane one here.¡±

    ¡°And a tiny bit of whiskey. Just a bottle. You can put it in one of those schoolboy things or whatever.¡±

    ¡°Kallix I¡¯m not giving you whiskey to take to boarding school.¡±

    ¡°Ok, ok, fair. But the LCD, yeah?¡±

    She sighs. ¡°I¡¯ll see what I can do.¡±

    ¡°Thanksss.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t thank me, idiot. I¡¯m just trying to keep you freaking alive.¡±

    ¡°Well then putting me in school was the wrong-est way to go.¡±

    ¡°Just two weeks, think you can survive that?¡±

    ¡°The more LCD I get the better.¡±

    She makes for the door, but stops, and turns over her shoulder. ¡°Don¡¯t get expelled.¡±

    I shrug. ¡°No promises.¡±

    ~

    I swat Tauren¡¯s hand away from my hair. ¡°I¡¯m not combing my hair.¡±

    ¡°Kallix, you¡¯re going to a prestigious school for crying out loud.¡±

    ¡°No. I won¡¯t. I refuse.¡±

    ¡°At least let me clean it! I can visibly see the dirt,¡± she says, leaning over the arm rest at the back of the limousine.

    I lean out of her reach. ¡°No.¡±

    She sighs, rolling down her window. ¡°We¡¯re here.¡±

    I slip out and shut the door gently behind me. Barron, her driver, gives me an awkward nod as I haul the black duffle-bag from the trunk. I reciprocate.

    Tauren smiles at me as we both stand under the arched entranceway. ¡°You look cute in the uniform.¡±

    I make an exaggerated gagging gesture, looking down at the maroon uniform with golden lining. The most unnecessarily over the top piece of clothing I¡¯ve ever seen.

    ¡°Ah, you must be miss Ksura,¡± a guard says, walking through the arch. ¡°We¡¯ve been awaiting the arrival of Mr¡­.¡± he glances at a flash card in his hand, ¡°Tallin Yuura.¡±If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    I let a smile flicker across my face.

    ¡°Alright then,¡± the guard proceeds. ¡°Sorry, Ms. Ksura, but you cannot continue, students only. Sorry.¡±

    ¡°Oh it¡¯s alright¡­ Tallin will be perfectly fine.¡±

    I glower at her.

    ¡°Goodbye,¡± she moans, burying me in her heavenly soft hug. I hug back, fiercer than I would¡¯ve intended. ¡°Be good, yeah.¡±

    I grunt and turn away from her. I hate watching people leave.

    The guard escorts me into the campus. Instantly I feel a creeping sense of dread and painful boredom crawling up my spine. I can see the sprawling infrastructure. Brick built classrooms next to a measly water fountain, just across from a drying sports field on which a multitude of students seem to be running around in a mob. They¡¯re running so slowly it makes me dizzy.

    ¡°Right then, your dorm¡¯s just over there,¡± the guard says cheerily, pointing to a building that¡¯s three stories tall, yet somehow appears squat. ¡°Go on, you¡¯ll be able to get half an hour¡¯s head start unpacking before the other boys arrive.¡±

    I thank him and head for the building, crossing a group of snobby looking girls arguing heavily with a fossilized teacher.

    A soft drizzle hits just as I enter the dormitory. The massive, gaping door seems like the toothless mouth of the giant beast I had escaped nearly four years ago, but only now it¡¯s caught up to me, eager to swallow me whole.

    I recall my room number. What was it, 212? 312? How are there even three hundred and twelve rooms here? I trudge up the battered stone steps, realizing that the two in two hundred and twelve means its on the second floor. Huh, dumbass. I crack the door open.

    The taste of dust launches itself across my tongue and down into my lungs, erupting a coughing fit from my chest. I drop my bag on the bed and flick on the lights. It¡¯s just a bed, cupboard and window-facing tiny desk, all cramped so close together that I can¡¯t take a pace in any direction besides out the door. Fantastic.

    I spend the next twenty minutes beating the dust out of the room, and sorting through the stuff Tauren¡¯s packed for me. Dozens of jeans, hoodies, sweatpants and T-shirts. Everything¡¯s blue, grey and black, just as I like it. Whatever I decree as useless gets chucked from the window. As I said, there¡¯s no point in not littering since there¡¯s no environment left to save.

    Once I¡¯m done tossing everything into the wardrobe and dumping the toiletries into the drawers, I flop back onto the stiff yet lumpy bed. My back is already sweaty. I close my eyes, and not ten seconds pass before I hear the dreaded unmistakable chorus of rowdy boys entering their dorm.

    Oh, good god here it goes.

    The door flies open, slamming against my cupboard and making me jolt.

    ¡°Eyyyy! New boy in the house!¡±

    ¡°Woop woop!¡±

    ¡°Shut up, he¡¯s asleep!¡±

    Ah shit. Turning social gears on now. ¡°Huh?¡± I ask. ¡°Oh, hi.¡±

    ¡°Hey! You¡¯re a little lad aren¡¯t you,¡± the boy leaning over me says. He¡¯s got large, meaty arms, a handsome, filled out face and thin brown hair pushed aside. ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± he asks, his voice thickly East Side.

    ¡°Uh, Ka¡­Tallin. Tallin Ksura.¡±

    ¡°Katallin? Name¡¯s Davrin. Where you from?¡±

    ¡°No it¡¯s just Tallin, and I¡¯m from West Side. Good old, boring West Side.¡±

    ¡°What happened to his hair?¡± hollers somebody at the back of the musky crowd.

    ¡°Oh, shut up Feraq,¡± he hollers back. ¡°But seriously dude, what happened?¡±

    ¡°Nothing. I just like it like this?¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Davrin asks, he plunges his hand towards me, rustling my hair. Instinctively I slap it away. ¡°Duuuuude I can literally see the dirt!¡± he laughs.

    The group erupts into laughter.

    ¡°Oi! Leave the boy alone!¡± cries an adult in a hoarse voice. Some sort of dormitory teacher or something.

    ¡°Aw, we¡¯re just helping him settle in! He¡¯s quite a small lad,¡± another boy hollers.

    ¡°Ha! Good one, Terrel!¡±

    My shoulder throbs. There are a lot of people in here. Should¡¯ve left the window open. Why are there so many people. So close. Move, shit I need to move.

    ¡°Hey, hey, you¡¯re looking a bit stressed out, mate,¡± Davrin says, contorting his face into something that I think is supposed to imitate empathy.

    What? What the hell am I even supposed to say to that? Why is he so close to me?

    Laughter clatters against the tiny walls of my cell¡­ room¡­ shit¡­ it¡¯s like they¡¯re bats, and the laughter is flapping around above me. Get out. Get out!

    ¡°Think we should let him settle in a bit,¡± the one called Feraq says. ¡°He¡¯ll come ¡®round soon enough.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Tallin,¡± Davrin reassures. ¡°Feel right at home.¡±

    I scrunch my eyes shut as they squeeze out and into the hallway. The instant they¡¯re gone I let myself take a deep breath. Shit, the air tastes like armpits.

    I open the window again and lean out. I¡¯ve never been so grateful for the wet, smoggy, cold air of West Side. Heavy rain droplets splatter against my head. Dirty, screw that. My hair¡¯s fine. Screw them. Screw this, who¡¯s idea was this anyway? Tauren, god damnit why couldn¡¯t I have just stayed at her home with her? That would¡¯ve been fun! We could¡¯ve chilled and watched movies and eaten good food and stuff.

    I sigh into the evening.

    There¡¯s no sunset. The air is too carbon logged.

    I would¡¯ve missed the freedom anyway. Being in Tauren¡¯s house would¡¯ve meant that I could leave. Being cooped up in there, no matter how amazing, would tire me eventually and claustrophobia would envelope me. Sure as hell it¡¯s already done that here but¡­ this place? This¡­ citadel¡­

    I look across the playing fields and cafeteria and library to the stoic brick wall, with a two meter tall electric fence atop it. It glowers at me through the rain.

    I can¡¯t leave this place. That¡¯s what matters here. I¡¯m trapped. I¡¯m in prison, but there¡¯s no breaking out of this one.

    ~

    Next greatest challenge; where on earth am I to sit?

    I slow down, having been eager to get away from the barbaric line for food, but now find myself confronted with a plethora of daunting circular tables. Girls? Guys? Jocks? Geeks? All this shit is foreign to me. Go alone, that¡¯s the plan. Always has been.

    I weave through the tables and dodge past the degrading stares until I reach one of the few tables that isn¡¯t crammed full of loudmouthed teens. I sit down, uncomfortable against the metal chair, and hunch over my food.

    The water in my glass has more flavored than the mashed potatoes, beans, cauliflower and synthetic chicken on my plate. The obscene images and symbols carved into the table make it even harder to force the food down my throat. Jeez, the gangs and thugs in the outskirts are more civilized than this.

    ¡°Hi there,¡± says a girl, moving to sit with me. She¡¯s got the typical high school pretty visage, with dark red hair that¡¯s been perfectly straightened. Her perfume makes me gag. The centimeter thick makeup on her cheeks make me cringe.

    Before I realize that I¡¯m supposed to respond, Davrin slides up next to her.

    ¡°Oh hey, Tallin, c¡¯mon let¡¯s sit with him, Laila,¡± he says to the girl, who nods, eagerly.

    ¡°Actually, I¡¯m fine. Sit with your friends,¡± I mutter.

    Shit. Supposed to be keeping a low profile.

    ¡°Oh,¡± Laila says, likely surprised that there¡¯s a soul in the world that wouldn¡¯t want to sit with her. ¡°Are you sure? You look so lonely.¡±

    ¡°C¡¯mon Laila,¡± Davrin presses, ¡°we shouldn¡¯t bother him. Feraq saved us seats.¡± He links his arm into hers and steers her away from me.

    Huh, they never wanted to sit here. At least Davrin didn¡¯t.

    It¡¯s not long before another girl plops herself down, a quartile of the table away from me. Her hair is loose cut, and multiple leather bracelets dangle off her wrist. Her dark eyes catch mine. ¡°Hey,¡± she nods.

    I nod back, returning to my food. A minute passes, when I glance up at her, seeing her awkwardness festering behind her eyes. ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Arika,¡± she says, quickly.

    Arika. That¡­ Yarika? Yarika from the streets. She¡­ she died on the streets that day. That cold damn day when I let her die. This¡­ no, no way in hell. This isn¡¯t her. Yarika was blonde and thin boned. This is certainly someone else. Whoever the hell they are, nearly taking Yarika¡¯s name like that.

    ¡°Everything alright? You look like you¡¯ve just seen a ghost,¡± she asks me, an indescribable expression on her face.

    ¡°Yea-¡± I choke. Water in my lungs. Shit.

    Twenty seconds of coughing violently into my elbow passes before I blink back into my senses. Are my eyes red? I¡¯m fine, right? I wipe my chin.

    She looks like she¡¯s about to laugh. ¡°You are one awkward fellow,¡± she says, slowly. I can tell she isn¡¯t trying to be mean, but still, awkward? Me? Ridiculous.

    I shake my head. ¡°Naw. Not usually.¡±

    ¡°New school anxiety.¡±

    ¡°Anxiety? I don¡¯t do anxiety.¡±

    She shrugs. ¡°Everybody does. All that shit of being macho and strong and whatever? Dude, that¡¯s like a hundred years old. Nobody cares. You¡¯re thinner than the legs of these chairs anyway, it¡¯s not like you¡¯re going to appear strong.¡±

    I stare at her, evenly.

    ¡°And what happened to your hair anyway?¡±

    I exhale like a bull, and return to my food. Calm your damn self, you hotheaded, left-on-kettle. ¡°Nothing.¡±

    ¡°So why is it so¡­ wild? And dirty?¡±

    ¡°Because I like it like that.¡±

    ¡°What? Why?¡±

    I shrug, still looking at my plate.

    I¡¯m not sure if I prefer the limping silence that makes its way between us, or the aggravating conversation that it chased away. Regardless, I finish my food well before her and stand up to leave.

    As I¡¯m going, she grabs my free hand, nearly making me drop my plate. ¡°There¡¯re a lot of bullies in this school.¡±

    ¡°So?¡±

    ¡°Make sure you don¡¯t become one of them.¡±

    I pull my hand from her. What the hell is wrong with people in this school? There¡¯s no way in hell I¡¯m going to survive this.

 3.11: Grimy Makeup

    11

    My back aches from slouching in the straight-backed chair, and my hands are clammy from full class introductions. My classes consist entirely of awkwardly asking neighbors for answers, desperately trying to recall knowledge that I¡¯ve long since forgotten and pulling myself out of mind gripping sexual fantasies. Jeez, how do people do this every day.

    ¡°The homework is due tomorrow,¡± Mr. Horrace reminds as the bell rings. Horrace, more like whore ass. I sling my navy blue bag over my shoulder and become one with the river of people in the hallway. Survived the first day. Now I need to survive the dorms.

    I find myself wishing for my shades again as the front doors are thrown open and we pour out like water from a broken damn. A short student trips, just ahead of me, and sprawls across the stairs, dropping his books.

    There¡¯s a chorus of laughter. I step over him without looking down. Don¡¯t draw attention, that¡¯s rule one.

    As the crowd thins, I make for my room as fast as possible, but somebody runs up to me from behind. The flashy hair and perfume smell let me know that it¡¯s Laila, even before I see her.

    ¡°Hi, Tallin.¡±

    I glance at her over my shoulder, and nod.

    ¡°Um, just saying¡­ there are lot¡¯s of after school activities, and they¡¯re kind of mandatory.¡± Her high pitched voice is beginning to hurt my ears. ¡°I can show you around a few of them, if you like.¡±

    I halt the rudeness in my throat, and cough to be rid of it. ¡°Yeah, sure¡­¡±

    ¡°Great!¡± she says, unnecessarily cheerily. What is this girl¡¯s deal?

    I follow her gingerly through the clubs. Chess, debate, soccer, knitting, rugby, athletics, public speaking, poetry, drama, technology¡­ none of them are anything I would ever do in my life.

    ¡°So? What do you think?¡± she asks, standing with her tiny feet really close together and with her lips pursed ever so slightly.

    ¡°Well¡­ I dunno, I don¡¯t think I¡¯m a club kind of guy. I mean, I love the night clubs and all¡­¡±

    She bursts into a fit of controlled girly giggles.

    ¡°¡­ but I¡¯m not too sure about this stuff.¡±

    ¡°Did you not have after school activities in your old school?¡±

    I shake my head. ¡°No. But it was a pretty shit school, so whatever. What clubs do you do?¡±

    She tries to keep her cool. It¡¯s like as if she¡¯s beaming with excitement at me paying attention to her. School girls are my specialty, and I¡¯d sure as hell finesse her in a bathroom stall if she wasn¡¯t so¡­ plastic.

    A group of younger kids walk by, snickering at me. ¡°Look at the scarecrow,¡± I hear one of them say. Damn, never thought I looked like a scarecrow. That¡¯s pretty cool.

    ¡°I¡¯m a cheerleader,¡± she says, proudly.

    Of course she is. What else could she possibly be?

    ¡°But,¡± she adds quickly, probably seeing the expression on my face. ¡°I also play chess, and work at the plant shelter in the labs.¡±

    ¡°A¡­ plant shelter?¡±

    ¡°Yeah! Like, with real fruits and stuff. We grow them here.¡±

    ¡°Huh, that¡¯s actually pretty cool.¡±

    ¡°Totally, do you wanna check it out?¡±

    ¡°Um¡­ sure, I guess.¡±

    ¡°Alright, but take me to my locker first, I need to get some stuff.¡±

    Look at her! She¡¯s all over me, yet somehow still makes it seem like she¡¯s in charge. You can¡¯t fall for this bullshit.

    And yet I find myself trailing behind her. She¡¯s wearing a turquois green tank top, showing her pierced belly button, above a pair of tight, light jeans and pink sneakers. Ok, the view from behind isn¡¯t that bad actually. She¡¯s kind of got an ass. It looks soft. Her legs are a bit thin though.

    ¡°What are you looking at? Is there something on my pants?¡± she asks, turning back and looking over herself.

    ¡°Huh? No I¡­¡±

    She breaks into a laugh. ¡°Relax, I¡¯m kidding,¡± she says, grabbing my hand and pulling me to the lockers between the science and social studies parts of the school.

    She pushes me to a locker and shit I¡¯m hard. Wasn¡¯t she dating Davrin?

    She eases against me, sliding her leg between mine and sliding her hand over my bony chest. Damn this girl is horny.

    She tiptoes so her lips can reach mine. That¡¯s soft. Shit. Her breasts press against my chest and¡­ no screw this! What happened to laying low? Laying. When was the last time I got laid. Been caught up in all this shit lately. No chill.

    Suddenly, her hand slides down my pants and softly grabs hold my my shaft. Shit. Shit shit shit shit¡­ no!

    I push her away by the hips. She¡¯s so leaned into me that she nearly trips over herself as she falls backwards. ¡°I¡­¡± she stammers, ¡°Oh my god I¡¯m so sorry!¡±

    ¡°No, relax,¡± I mutter, adjusting my boxers. ¡°We¡¯ve known each other for two days.¡± That¡¯s bullshit. You¡¯ve boned girls you¡¯ve known for minutes.

    ¡°My god this is so embarrassing,¡± she cries, covering her face with her hands.

    Time to leave before she does. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I won¡¯t tell anyone,¡± I reassure, quickly striding away.

    It takes a full minute of walking before my boner finally goes away. Shit, now where even am I? Why is this school so big?

    I steer myself between a storage unit and one of the outskirt classrooms and slump against the wall so I can get my shit together. Lay low, don¡¯t be noticed. Why is it so hot? Shit man, argh this is horrible. Why can¡¯t I just¡­

    ¡°Oi, Scarecrow¡­¡± I hear.

    I turn, seeing Davrin standing at my only exit point. Feraq, smaller but more muscular, steps beside his friend. Henchman and king bully. ¡°Um, hi,¡± I respond.

    ¡°Excuse me?¡± Davrin asks. ¡°What¡¯s wrong with you dude. You¡¯ve been here two days and you¡¯re already making moves on my girlfriend? What the hell man? Was there no bro-code where you¡¯re from?¡± Shit, he saw. Or somebody saw and told him.

    Ok, so he just wants to talk.

    ¡°Sorry mate,¡± I say, standing up. He¡¯s a good four inches taller than me. ¡°I didn¡¯t know, and to be fair, she moved on me.¡±

    ¡°Bro, what the hell? You slide into her, and then accuse her of cheating? Laila is the loyalest bitch on the planet, you hear me?¡±Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°Hey man, I swear I¡¯m sorry,¡± I tell him, trying to walk by. With his huge, meaty arm, he shoves me back.

    ¡°You don¡¯t disrespect me like that man,¡± he tells me. Feraq bends down and picks up a stick.

    Oh shit. They¡¯re about of mess me up. ¡°Told you mate, I¡¯m sorry, it won¡¯t happen again.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ll make sure of that.¡±

    I see the blow coming a mile before it reaches me, sway out of reach. Davrin nearly stumbles over himself, and Feraq stares at me, shocked.

    No. I¡¯ve been beaten to a pulp more times than I can remember, but by who? Blax was a goddamn AWOL drill sergeant that had a body made of Kevlar. Lorrick was a five year army official with more experience fighting than I have screwing. Zorikan? He¡¯s a freaking god of street fighting, that doesn¡¯t even count. But this? This is a high school bully. That¡¯s degrading.

    I duck under his next swing and throw all my meager weight into a punch, straight at his belly. My fist literally bounces off his meaty torso. Shit. Ok, maybe not fight them. Woah!

    I barely manage to duck as Feraq swings the stick like a baseball bat, directly at my head. Shit, that could¡¯ve given me brain damage! This bitch is crazy!

    Davrin launches himself at me again, and I¡¯m forced to cat jump onto a windowsill. ¡°You bitch!¡± he hollers, swatting at my ankles. I dance, evading his slow motion swings.

    I take my eyes off him for a moment, just fast enough to see Feraq hurl the stick at me. Shit. Dive!

    I launch myself forwards, surprising Davrin so his hands move to protect his face. I glide over him, managing to scrape a roll in the tiny space and spring upwards, propelling myself with the wall so I just manage to reach a window on the second floor.

    ¡°Get the stick, you idiot,¡± I hear Davrin holler.

    I get my leg up and pull myself up onto the windowsill, too high for them to reach me. ¡°Sorry lads, maybe next time,¡± I call down.

    Oh shit, forgot about the stick.

    I scrunch to the side as the stick smashes into the window, cracking the weak glass. Davrin rushes to collect it as it falls, while I scramble to my feet, launching myself across the gap and managing to grab hold of the gutter on the other side of the roof. Thank the damn world for making me lighter than a loaf of bread because it doesn¡¯t break, and I manage to haul myself onto the flat roof, splashing into a puddle.

    I run. Then collide with something. What? How? No. Someone. That¡¯s human.

    ¡°Ow!¡± the person groans.

    I pick myself up from the murky roof-water. ¡°Agh shit, what the hell?¡± I ask, looking at him.

    He¡¯s tall, tan skin and a mop of curly hair on the top of his head, with the sides and the back shaven. I recognize him as Terrel, one of my dormmates. ¡°Dude that was awesome!¡± he cries.

    I snort. ¡°The hell are you doing up here?¡±

    ¡°Watching of course!¡± he says, like as if he¡¯s attending a football match.

    ¡°Watching?¡± I ask, incredulous.

    ¡°Yeah, I wanted to see what would happen, and I was not expecting that! You¡¯re like a little ninja!¡± he tries to clap me on the shoulder and I shrink away from him.

    ¡°You¡¯re dead Tallin!¡± I hear Davrin bellow.

    ¡°Yeah, but that might be a problem,¡± Terrel mutters. ¡°You probably should¡¯ve let him beat you up. Get it over and done.¡±

    I push my disgust back down my throat. ¡°How am I supposed to go back to dorms? He¡¯s going to kill me in my sleep.¡± I need allies, can¡¯t piss this guy off just yet.

    ¡°Aw no way. Davrin¡¯s a brute, but he¡¯s not an idiot. He knows that you could report him for this, and that there might be a witness, ahem ahem you¡¯re welcome. He¡¯ll be super nice to you for a while and hope you forget about it.¡±

    ¡°Forget about it? You said he wasn¡¯t stupid.¡±

    ¡°I dunno, I guess he knows that you know that he¡¯s a useful person to¡­ not be enemies with. Plus, if you do report him, and he gets suspended or something, he would like actually murder you. But it¡¯s not like he could really get suspended, he¡¯s the principle¡¯s son after all.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Oh shit. This might be bad.

    ¡°Yeah but who cares. You¡¯re a badass!¡±

    No. I¡¯m bad and an ass. But yeah, who cares, right? Tauren. She cares. She cares about me. Oddly enough. Not really sure what I¡¯ve done for her, or why she stuck around me. Because I¡¯m worth it? Huh, sounds like bullshit.

    ¡°Hey dude, what¡¯s wrong? You¡¯re face went all dark.¡±

    ¡°No. You just saw it light up for a second,¡± I murmur, striding away from him.

    ¡°What? What was that? If you said some deep philosophical shit then I don¡¯t really care. C¡¯mon, you oughta meet my crew! You¡¯re a major clout factor now bruh! Wait till they here about you!¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t like you or your friends. Go away.¡±

    ¡°Nonsense! You haven¡¯t even met them! And nobody likes me until they know me! I¡¯m not actually an annoying twat, this was just¡­ a freak accident. Hehe, sorry I¡¯m sweating a lot right now.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m leaving.¡±

    ¡°Yes! Leaving with me to go meet the homies!¡±

    ¡°No. I¡¯m leaving to my room.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re room? Screw your room. It sucks! Why do you think it¡¯s your room?¡±

    Because I suck.

    ¡°Nobody wanted that room, which is why it¡¯s empty. Duhhhh¡­ it¡¯s boring as hell in there, and Davrin is probably lurking in your closet or something.¡±

    I meet his gaze for a moment, and I feel his eyes melt into their sockets.

    He erupts into a nervous laughter. ¡°Relax a bit would you? C¡¯mon I¡¯ll take you around.¡±

    ¡°No. Stay away. Stop putting your arm over me¡­stop¡­ don¡¯t¡­¡±

    ~

    ¡°Hala bitches!¡± Terrel blares, waltzing into a trashy corner behind the science laps.

    ¡°Yooo, whatup mate,¡± says a dude. Literally, the picturesque definition of a dude. He¡¯s got thin, shoulder length, brown hair that¡¯s brushed straight down, a big nose and a pink pair of sunglasses perched on his nose and some sort of bleeping gaming device in his small hands. He¡¯s slouched with nauseating posture into a weird angular bench that¡¯s for some reason part of the wall. Damn, humans make no sense.

    I open my mouth to respond, but then I realize that Yannis hasn¡¯t said anything to me. He doesn¡¯t even look at me.

    ¡°Yo dickheads check out what I got¡­¡± blurts someone else, who abruptly stops jogging. She¡¯s softly panting, holding her navy blue school bag in one hand and a scrunched up paper bag in the other. Her shoulder length hair falls in distinct stylishly shaggy strands, some of which cover her face. ¡°Who dis?¡±

    ¡°This right here,¡± Terrel starts, slinging his arm over my shoulders. ¡°Is the man who literally got cornered by Davrin and Feraq¡­ and escaped!¡±

    ¡°What? You¡¯re joking!¡±

    ¡°Deadass man! He dodged right through them like a ninja! Freaking scaled up the wall and practically backflipped onto the roof!¡±

    ¡°Bullshit,¡± Yannis calls, not looking up from his game.

    ¡°I¡¯m serious dude, tell em!¡± Terrel demands.

    ¡°He¡¯s joking,¡± I say.

    ¡°Aw c¡¯mon,¡± he heaves, giving me a clap on the back. ¡°Be serious now.¡±

    ¡°Terrel you¡¯re high as a cloud,¡± the girl laughs.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t backflip,¡± I add. ¡°I don¡¯t really know how to do one.¡±

    ¡°Ha!¡± Terrel exclaims. ¡°So the rest of what I said was true!¡±

    I shrug. ¡°Kinda. Davrin¡¯s pretty fat honestly. I doubt he¡¯d be able to catch a mosquito.¡±

    ¡°Shiiiit mannnnn,¡± the girl commends. ¡°Well, you do look like a cat. A stray one.¡±

    I put on an exaggerated scowl. ¡°That last part wasn¡¯t necessary.¡±

    ¡°But it¡¯s true.¡±

    ¡°Haha!¡± the girl laughs. ¡°I like this dude. What¡¯s your name? Or shall I call you Flash Cat?¡±

    ¡°The name¡¯s¡­ Tallin,¡± I say with obvious hesitation. That¡¯s a dumb name. Why the hell am I using that dumb ass name. Stupid ass dumb ass idiot name. What the hell. Screw that I¡­ an image of Sekera, laughing so much she¡¯s crumpled to the floor, flashes into my mind. I let my imagination linger on the colorfulness of her hair. ¡°But my friends call me Dingo.¡±

    ¡°A fitting name, lad,¡± Terrel says, finally pulling his sweaty arm off me.

    ¡°But you aren¡¯t my friends,¡± I spurt, pulling myself back together.

    ¡°No yet!¡± Yannis calls.

    The girl offers a hand to me. ¡°The name¡¯s Arika.¡±

    Arika? That name¡­. Yarika.

    A shiver runs down my spine. Yarika, my first friend on the streets. I¡¯m forced to blink away the images of her grey skin and twig thin legs. I clasp Arika¡¯s hand. It¡¯s warm and forgiving. I can feel her pulse. Alive. She¡¯s breathing. But¡­ this isn¡¯t Yarika. This is Arika, whoever the hell she is. Dumb name. Very dumb name, just like Tallin. Hey God, if you exist¡­ dick move man.

    Arika¡¯s looking at me slightly concerned. ¡°You good man?¡± she asks.

    ¡°He will be,¡± Terrel butts in with a wicked grin, snatching the bag from Arika¡¯s hands.

    ¡°Oh shit, don¡¯t tell me that¡¯s Bansilin,¡± I murmur.

    ¡°Hell no, we can¡¯t get any high grade shit around here. But it isn¡¯t half bad.¡±

    I watch tentatively as he pulls the thick clump of weed out of the bag and sets up a bong. ¡°Here? Isn¡¯t that¡­ unsafe? Can¡¯t we get caught?¡±

    ¡°Caught? Do you know this school at all?¡± Terrel asks. ¡°Last month our chem teacher saw Viggale get beaten to a pulp by Feraq, and he didn¡¯t do shit.¡±

    I crack my neck, but it doesn¡¯t take away the tension. ¡°I¡¯m going.¡±

    Terrel shoves the lit bong into Yannis¡¯s hands. The gaming device clatters to the floor. ¡°C¡¯mon mate, just a minute.¡±

    ¡°No. Buzz off,¡± I say, swatting his hand off my shoulder.

    He grabs my wrist, and I sear into him with my dagger sharp eyes.

    He shrinks into himself but doesn¡¯t let go. ¡°Dude, chill out for a second. You¡¯re new here and you¡¯ve just gotten a whole load of new enemies. You could use some allies.¡±

    I can see Arika inhaling so deep her eyes nearly roll up. ¡°One whiff,¡± I mutter.

    ¡°Yeah!¡± Terrel says, pumping his fist in the air.

    Arika hands me the bong, Terrel lights it and I breath in¡­ then instantly erupt into coughs. Jeez, it¡¯s been long since I¡¯m smoked anything. Been too caught up in all this bullshit.

    ¡°Take it easy there mate,¡± Yannis tells me.

    ¡°What kind of backstreet lowgrade shit is this? I swear there¡¯s grass in this.¡±

    ¡°Bullcrap! You just took a bad whiff,¡± Arika shoots back.

    ¡°Hey mate, not all of us are used to East Side Specials,¡± Terrel tells me, exhaling plumes of smoke through his nostrils.

    I cough again, and wave smoke away from my eyes. Damn, how long has it been since I smoked last? Shit, I¡¯m not sure I like it that much anymore. Yeah, screw this, I have shit to do. ¡°I have shit to do.¡±

    ¡°Nawww you don¡¯t,¡± Terrel drags. ¡°But hey if this isn¡¯t your jam, go ahead and run off. I¡¯ve got like¡­ three classes with you¡­ ish¡­ and we don¡¯t have work for shit.¡±

    ¡°There are other things that fall under ¡®stuff to do¡¯ than work,¡± I mutter, pushing past him.

    ¡°Well¡­ are we friends now?¡± he calls.

    I don¡¯t respond.

    ¡°See you ¡®round, Dingo!¡± Arika shouts.

    A heavy shower breaks from the heavens as I break into a jog. I¡¯m grateful for the splatters of rain that wilt my hair over my eyes.

 3.12: Freedom tastes of Blood

    12

    These sheets are garbage. Every dumpster I¡¯ve ever slept in was more comfortable than shit. Why is it so scratchy? Is this mattress made of spiderweb? Damnit there¡¯s no oxygen in here. Is my window open? Hell is that? Is that a shadow? Why is it looking at me. What the hell, close your eyes. Close your eyes and sleep you dipshit it¡¯s been three hours. Three hours? Three hours of this torture? Stop. Stop your leg from shaking. Why is your leg shaking. Take a painkiller, it will help. No, dipshit I already took two. One a day, idiot. Have a wank? No, haven¡¯t done that in ages. Shit¡­uhhhhh, count sheep? Counting sheep, that¡¯s dumb. They¡¯re all dead. Dead as you¡¯re going to be after you go for Qiara. You and Kaloaan both. Not Zorikan though. He¡¯ll survive. He always does. Actually, you probably will too. Kaloaan will die and you¡¯ll have to live with it. Better than me dying and him having to live with it, right? So it¡¯s selfless. Bullshit, you cynical twat. Yes. Yes I am a cynical twat. That¡¯s why the hell I¡¯m alive god damnit. And I am not suicidal, so I have no idea why I¡¯m going on a suicide mission. Damnit I¡¯ve  already been on two, isn¡¯t three pushing it? Shit shit ughhhhhhhhhhh I swear I¡¯m going to-

    ¡°Tallin.¡±

    Shit!

    I jolt upright, kicking the blanket off my legs. It clings to my sweat like a straight jacket.

    Bitch argh!

    I squirm and wriggle trying to kick it off. Shit who¡¯s in my room.

    ¡°Tallin?¡± the whisper comes again.

    Blanket get off!

    ¡°Ow!¡± I hiss as I clunk off the bed. Stupid ass blanket.

    ¡°Tallin are you ok?¡±

    ¡°Where¡­ who are you?¡± I ask, finally peeling the blanket away and getting up.

    ¡°Outside the door. It¡¯s me, Yannis. I got a bottle of vodka, d¡¯you wanna go up to the roof to drink? Terrel and Arika are waiting.¡±

    Dude, they aren¡¯t your friends remember? Lay goddamn low, not get black out drunk on the second day. Relax, it¡¯s a single bottle between four of us. They aren¡¯t my friends. I have friends waiting for me outside this prison. If they¡¯re still alive. While I¡¯m inside this prison. Getting drunk with my other friends. Not my friends, screw them. Yeah screw them. But¡­ not the bed. I¡¯m not going back to that horrid god forsaken torture device. No, vodka it is.

    ¡°Tallin are you like¡­ alive?¡±

    ¡°Yeah sorry. Just thinking.¡±

    ¡°Hey man, if you¡¯re too pussy I totally get it and all.¡±

    ¡°Nah bro,¡± I say, opening the door and shutting it gently behind me. ¡°I was just wondering if you guys are worthy drinking buddies,¡± I add with a lopsided grin.

    ¡°Oh right, the whole ¡®I¡¯m too good for you¡¯ superiority complex. It¡¯s getting old, dude,¡± Yannis says turning away from me.

    Jeez, what¡¯s this guy¡¯s deal?

    I follow him up the stairs. It¡¯s funny seeing him walk. He¡¯s wearing a huge T-shirt, pajama bottoms and is barefoot, but for some reason I find the fact that he¡¯s half a head shorter than me hilarious. I¡¯m already short and all, but this guy¡¯s pretty tiny. And his long hair just makes it worse. It¡¯s like¡­ longer than mine but really straight¡­

    ¡°Are you laughing?¡± he asks, pausing.

    ¡°Huh?¡±

    ¡°I swear I heard you laughing.¡±

    ¡°Dude, how much of that have you already drunk?¡±

    He scoffs, then opens the door to a room. The wafting smell of weed tells me that it is certainly his. He props open his window, which leads onto the slanted roof. Man, why couldn¡¯t I have gotten this room?

    With painstaking slowness, he clambers out, teeters on the edge for a bit, then begins to inch up the shingles. I ease out and use the window itself to pull myself higher, then scamper to the top, the vertex of the roof, or whatever it¡¯s called. I stand, balancing easily against the soft wind. The night is warm.

    ¡°Dude are you crazy?¡± Yannis hisses.

    ¡°No. You¡¯re just slow.¡±

    I lope along the top of the roof, searching for the others. The smoggy West Side air is a thousand times better than that¡­ armpit stench, that occupies every crevice of the dormitory. I look at the school as a bird¡­ a ghastly skeleton of the silicon being it is during the day.

    I hear a grunt as Yannis precautious peeps his head over the top of the roof, next to where I¡¯m standing. ¡°They¡¯re over there,¡± he says pointing halfway across the school. My eyes subconsciously map the way to get there. Over the younger boy¡¯s dorm, the roof of the indoor sports court and onto the mathematics building. There¡¯s a stretch of flat roof, where the math and the science building¡¯s meet. I can vaguely see two figures, sprawled out and looking at the sky.

    ¡°You climbed the whole way here?¡± I ask.

    Yannis huffs, finding his footing to stand up. ¡°Not willingly. We did that odds game. I didn¡¯t even want to call you man. Terrel wanted that. Then he and his bitch ass cheated¡­ and here I am, hauling your ungrateful ass to drink liquor that I bought. Some world.¡±

    ¡°Yeahhh, life¡¯s a bitch and then you die, huh?¡±

    ¡°Pretty much,¡± he grumbles, teetering on.

    I overtake him in a couple strides and fly across the rooftops. Kallix Rane on rooves is like a wolf in a forest. I¡¯m fast. I¡¯m in my element. This is why I¡¯m alive. I¡¯m alive because I know how to move, not because I¡¯m selfish and cynical.

    My self-loathing thoughts melt away as the wind and my adrenaline perform a courteous dance of intimacy, liberating my soul from my mind. I¡¯m a raven, soaring over my land. The bigger and the brawnier, they dominate the desolation, but I am it¡¯s king. It is I who lead them to their kills and feed of their remains. My wings cause the ripple that leads clans against one another. When bear turns of wolf and viper on weasel. I am the puppet master. A raven in the sky, with strings that lead the hulking towards their fates. A raven in the sky¡­ a raven in its nest¡­ Ravven.

    Shit.

    I tumble down the shingles, scrambling away from the gutter and barely managing to land with an uncoordinated roll. I blink and pick myself up, looking around. Terrel and Arika should be just over this roof. The comically small form of Yannis is still tottering along, many meters away.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    I scuttle to the top of the roof, seeing the small stretch of concrete, littered with trash and old balls. Terrel and Arika are in the corner, reclined against the roof, tangled into each other. I slide down.

    ¡°Wow, you got here fast, Dingo¡± Terrel says with his eyebrows arched.

    ¡°You weren¡¯t lying about what you can do,¡± Arika says, untying herself from Terrel and standing up. ¡°Saw you from across. You¡¯re like a raccoon.¡±

    Flashes of Arika telling me the exact same thing try to give me epilepsy. I manage to respond with a shaky laugh. Where the hell is Yannis?

    ¡°Hey, look up there,¡± Terrel says excitedly, pointing to the sky. ¡°I think I can see a star.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± Arika looks up as well.

    ¡°That¡¯s a plane, mate,¡± I tell him.

    ¡°Oh¡­ well shit.¡±

    Silence¡¯s reign is brief, before they both erupt into laughter.

    ¡°One of these days, we¡¯ll see one,¡± Terrel assures Arika.

    I hear a grunt, and turn to see Yannis, sooner than I expected, hauling himself over the last roof. He slides down wearily, bottle in hand. Once he reaches the ground, he spits a string of curses I¡¯ve never even heard before. ¡°Drink up, you ungrateful quim sucking bastards.¡±

    Terrel grabs the bottle from him. ¡°At long last.¡± He puts his lips to the bottle¡¯s and takes a swig. I watch in amusement as his face contorts in response to the foulness. He smacks his lips. ¡°It¡¯s been two long.¡±

    ¡°Two weeks is too long now?¡± Arika asks, taking the next swig. She¡¯s evidently a better drinker than him. ¡°What happened to end of term only?¡± She hands it to me.

    I hold the contents up to the faint moonlight.

    ¡°We¡¯re supposed to be drinking it, not admiring it,¡± Yannis mutters, waiting impatiently.

    ¡°How can I not admire it?¡± I ask. I put it to my lips and drink for five seconds straight. As I¡¯m wiping my lips with my forearm, my eyes twinkle at Terrel and Arika¡¯s gawking expressions. I shove the bottle into Yannis¡¯s small arms.

    ¡°Where¡­ how¡­ did you learn to drink like that?¡± Terrel asks.

    ¡°The streets,¡± I mutter. Idiot. You¡¯re not from the streets, remember? You¡¯re Tallin, spoilt East Side kid or whatever. ¡°Had a friend who lived on the streets, and he used to take me to all the best backstreet clubs. All the damn time.¡±

    Yannis is staring at something on his phone, absent mindedly sipping at the vodka.

    ¡°Sheesh, I need to try and do that.¡± Terrel takes the bottle back from Yannis.

    ¡°Hey I wasn¡¯t done with that!¡±

    ¡°Terrel you¡¯re gonna burn through you¡¯re throat,¡± Arika warns.

    He takes four glugs before handing the bottle back to Arika in defeat, coughing and rubbing his neck.

    ¡°Idiot,¡± Yannis mutters.

    Arika tries to take a sip through her laughing but snorts it back up. I can¡¯t help but laugh at that. ¡°Teach us, master Dingo,¡± she says, shoving it back into my hands.

    I glug down more of it.

    ¡°Hey don¡¯t finish it!¡± Yannis cries, pocketing his phone.

    ¡°I hope none of you have herpes,¡± I say with a burp.

    Terrel and Arika erupt into laughter. ¡°Arika definitely does,¡± Terrel informs, taking the bottle from Yannis.

    ¡°What?¡± Arika cries.

    ¡°Remember that dude you necked during summer last year? The one who looked like a couch?¡±

    ¡°What the hell?¡± I ask, cackling.

    ¡°Agh, you trust what Hoyagg told you? Idiot. Give me that.¡± She pulls the bottle from him and drinks more, until she staggers backwards, nearly tripping. I instinctively move to her side, steadying her.

    I hand the bottle to Yannis, but she stays slumped into me, her eyes locked on mine. They¡¯re¡­ pretty, I must say. And her hair, damn, I¡¯m always a sucker for hair¡­ how does it fall in such jagged strands? Why does¡­

    Yarika¡¯s bone thin, grey skin flashes in front of my face. Shiiiit.

    Arika shrieks as I drop her.

    Terrel and Yannis burst into laughter. Yannis drinks more. Terrel tries his glugging again, downing more this time.

    ¡°Damnit, Dingo, what the hell?¡±

    ¡°Sorry. Sorry,¡± I mutter, rubbing my eyes. They aren¡¯t my friends. Don¡¯t apologize. Lay low, don¡¯t create drama.

    Arika drinks more.

    ¡°Ah lighten up, lad,¡± Terrel encourages, giving me more.

    I¡¯m not going to get drunk. I can feel the comforting corrosion of my throat, as nostalgic as a childhood memory. I¡¯m not going to get drunk, but they don¡¯t know that. I could finish this bottle and be sober enough to escape a cop. Maybe two.

    ¡°Alright folks,¡± Terrel begins, taking a swig. ¡°Truth or dare.¡±

    ¡°Dare! Dare me! Dare me to drink some more,¡± Arika says, giggling.

    Damnit, how light weight are these guys?

    ¡°Yannis!¡± Terrel calls.

    ¡°Truth,¡± he mutters, picking up a stick that¡¯s nearly his height and using it to support himself like some ancient wizard.

    That¡¯s hilarious. I can¡¯t help but laugh at that. I¡¯m not drunk.

    ¡°Ok¡­ok which was¡­ when was the first time you¡­ smoked,¡± Terrel asks, his words slurred.

    ¡°Uhhhhh, grade six¡­¡­ but it was like with a bong at a party, by bro¡¯s party¡­ I dunno of that counts but like¡­ only took one puff so like¡­.¡±

    No wonder he¡¯s such a junkie.

    ¡°Tallin! Dingo! You¡¯re turn!¡± Terrel hollers.

    ¡°Awww, I thought it was my turn,¡± Arika moans.

    ¡°Chilllllllllout a bit girl¡­ Dingo¡¯s up.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s the question?¡± I ask.

    ¡°How was the first girl¡­ or boy¡­ that you necked?¡± he staggers forwards into me, bottle in hand. I pry it from him. That question doesn¡¯t even make sense. Arika takes the bottle from me.

    ¡°Um¡­ I must¡¯ve been eleven. This girl and I, her name was¡­ Kristi? Katy? Something like that, I¡¯m not sure. We went to the bathroom to explore. We kissed a bit and whatever, little did I know she was a chronic porn addict and wanted to give me a blowjob. My dick barely even worked at the time.¡±

    Yannis doubles over with laughter, dropping his wizard stick, then tripping over it. How am I not supposed to laugh at that?

    ¡°Yeah? Well mine was totally different,¡± Arika says, slinging her arm over my shoulder. Her head lolls against mine. She grapples against me, struggling to get her legs beneath her body.

    Terrel takes the body from her and drinks. He doesn¡¯t cringe. The more you drink, the easier it gets. But I won¡¯t get drunk. I just¡­ need to make sure these guys don¡¯t get themselves killed, right? No, they¡¯re not my friends.  Not my responsibility.

    ¡°Are you¡­ going to tell us the rest of it?¡± Terrel asks, making a very weird face.

    ¡°No. Screw you guys,¡± Arika responds.

    Yannis brushes hair from his face, and drags his stick to Terrel, taking the bottle. ¡°Bunch of twats. Why didn¡¯t we bring any joints. I sweat I¡¯d brought some joints.¡±

    ¡°You want to smoke now?¡± I ask him.

    ¡°Yeah¡­ yeah it will be awesome.¡±

    He fumbles around in his pockets, pulling out a lighter.

    That¡­ might help me relax. It might help me stop goddamn overthinking all this shit. No, overthinking is why you¡¯re still alive. Not because of all the stupid bullshit you¡¯ve done. That¡¯s why you¡¯re fun. Overthinking is why you¡¯re alive.

    Yannis struggles to light something in the dark.

    ¡°Dude that¡¯s a pencil,¡± Terrel tells him.

    ¡°Buzz off man, I know what I¡¯m doing,¡± Yannis hisses.

    Arika takes another swig, then tilts her head upwards, looking me in the eye. ¡°That blowjob you got¡­ when you were eleven¡­ was it any good.¡±

    ¡°I was eleven,¡± I mutter. ¡°Get off me.¡± I shrug, and she staggers away, crashing into Yannis and despite Arika being a relatively small girl, wearing a denim jacket and flowery short-skirt, she utterly flattens him.

    ¡°Woahhhh!¡± Terrel exclaims, making an overexaggerated gesture of leaping out of the way. He staggers through the junk, then trips over some trash.

    ¡°Hey Terrel, stop that,¡± I say.

    Arika pulls herself up, grabbing my hand. I look back at her and time freezes for a moment.

    In the moonlight, I see her face. This is different. She isn¡¯t particularly attractive, like Rieka or Tauren, but her pupils are dark and her iris¡¯s are vivid. Her eyes are dark with eyeshadow, and her lips are splotched with lipstick, things that would normally repel me from a mile away, but now¡­ her strands of hair, brush gently against my sweaty wrist and make me blink. I¡¯m not drunk. I can¡¯t get drunk. I¡­

    Arika screams.

    I whirl around, seeing Yannis snap upright. I look back for Terrel but¡­ he¡¯s gone. Shit, he must¡¯ve fallen off.

    Arika screams again.

    ¡°Holy shit. Holy shit!¡± Yannis shouts, scrambling to his feet.

    ¡­

    ¡­

    ¡­

    RUN

    ¡­

    ¡­

    ¡­

    Shingles rip free from the roof as I careen forwards, surging with the speed of a diving falcon. The crests and troughs let me ease past them. I¡­ I vault, I slide, I sprint¡­ too fast¡­ they can¡¯t catch up¡­ the death¡­ it can¡¯t catch me.

    I nearly overshoot the window, but manage to kick off the spindly gutter, breaking it, but grabbing hold of the windowsill and clawing back it. I knock over half the things on Yannis¡¯s desk and drop to the floor, landing on my side. Winded, but unstoppable I scramble, flinging open the door and launching myself down the stairs, then slide down the bannister until I reach my door. I open it and get back inside my prison. Freedom tastes of blood.

 3.13: Monsters...?

    13

    ¡°I know you¡¯re new here, and I doubt you had anything to do with this, but I¡¯m obligated to follow common procedure,¡± says Principal Lohib.

    I gaze at him, my emotions buried under a stony mask. ¡°Ask away.¡±

    He takes a sip of water and then stares me directly in the eye. His square jaw, thin hair and flat nose all point out his striking resemblance with Davrin. I bet he wasn¡¯t questioned about this. ¡°Where were you last night.¡±

    ¡°In my bed, like I was supposed to be.¡±

    Lohib nods. ¡°And what is you¡¯re relation with Terrel Winshensel?¡±

    I shrug. ¡°What¡¯s my relationship with anybody here? It¡¯s been less than a week. He¡¯s been nicer to me than the others.¡±

    Lohib coughs. ¡°Alright. We have other suspects, including Jarden Hesh, Yannis Vulguf and Tornaan Tiaka. Do you have any idea where they were last night?¡±

    Yannis¡¯s last name is Vulguf? That is the most unfitting thing in the world.

    Wait, he¡¯s expecting me to answer. Say something. Say something, idiot.

    ¡°Do I even know who they are?¡± I ask, with a slight smile. Works on girls, maybe it will work on this ogre with a superiority complex.

    ¡°Well¡­ yes, you do. I¡¯ve been told you have actually been spending some time with Yannis and Terrel both,¡± Lohib says, his face darkening ever so slightly.

    Damn. I underestimated him. And damn Davrin too, that snitch ass bitch. ¡°Ok, fine you caught me. I have been hanging out with them. A little. I mean, I try to stick to myself as much as I can, but Terrel seems to be the outgoing type. That¡¯s probably why he got himself into such a mess.¡±

    What kind of an answer was that? Dumbass!

    ¡°You have very heavy eyeshades, for a sixteen year old,¡± Lohib presses.

    ¡°I always have.¡±

    ¡°You said you were asleep last night?¡±

    ¡°I said I was in bed. I¡¯ve got chronic insomnia, so I didn¡¯t get much sleep.¡±

    Lohib¡¯s lips stretch into a weird expression. ¡°Alright then. You¡¯re free to leave.¡±

    I hope I don¡¯t look as pale as I seem. I¡¯ve gone through interrogations from the police a couple times before. Why was this so stressful?

    The door shuts softly behind me, and I walk past a line of students, all sitting hunched together on the metal chairs that line the hall to the principal¡¯s office. I spot Arika, but I don¡¯t make any eye contact with her. She¡¯s not my issue. She¡¯s not my friend. She can fend for herself¡­ just like you let Yarika do? Just like you let her die there¡­ that¡¯s what you¡¯re going to do here.

    Shut up. Get a grip. Stop being irrational. That wasn¡¯t my fault, and neither was this. C¡¯mon I¡¯ve got shit to do.

    No, I don¡¯t. I don¡¯t have jack shit to do besides fail more tests. I¡¯ve got to¡­

    Time slows as I notice Laila, a little way of a branching hall of lockers, teary eyed with streaks of makeup running down her cheeks. Davrin¡¯s rectangular form looms a pace away, a pained expression on his meaty face.

    ¡°What¡¯re you looking at, weasel? Buzz off!¡± he shouts at me.

    No comment. Not my business. Not my business at all.

    I fix my stare on the ground ahead of me for the rest of the walk back to class. It¡¯s weird how there are little sparkles in the synthetic floor stone.

    ~

    ¡°Hey dude, I told you bro, it¡¯s alright,¡± Terrel says with his imminent, relentless smile. Through hell and fire, this bastard refuses to stop smiling. No, he has no idea what hell is. Deqar did¡­

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry mate,¡± I mutter.

    ¡°Dude calm down, if Yannis could¡¯ve run like you, he would¡¯ve.¡±

    ¡°Did you¡­ get in any trouble?¡±

    ¡°Well, yeah. A couple detentions and a letter to my parents, but hell if they care. It¡¯s not the first time I¡¯ve gotten into shit. I know how to handle this stuff.¡±

    Arika plops herself down across from me, spilling some of her juice on the blue lunch table. ¡°Hey.¡±

    I nod.

    ¡°Ah shit guys, let¡¯s not make this awkward,¡± Terrel says. ¡°I¡¯m literally just bruised. C¡¯mon guys it¡¯s alright.¡±

    ¡°Where¡¯s Yannis?¡± Arika asks.

    ¡°Oh shit I was supposed to attend his debate on political correctness!¡± Terrel shouts, taking off.

    I snicker. ¡°Is he just going to leave his shit here?¡± I ask, eyeing his food. It¡¯s grey and mushy. My stomach¡¯s complaint at being empty suddenly stop.

    Arika swallows heavily. ¡°Why don¡¯t you like me?¡± she asks, abruptly.

    ¡°What?¡± I respond, taken aback.

    ¡°Yeah, what¡¯s your problem with me? After school, on the roof¡­ it¡¯s like you¡¯re avoiding me or something.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not avoiding you,¡± I respond, blankly. What the hell? What happened to laying low? No drama, remember? Damnit.

    ¡°So then?¡±

    Not the truth. No way in goddamn hell am I telling her the truth.

    ¡°Fine. Just stare at me, like always. What¡¯s up with you and staring? Your eyes are locked onto something, yet moving like they¡¯re on cocaine.¡±

    I shift my position. Can I just leave? Am I allowed to do that?

    ¡°And you have no social media whatsoever. Zero online presence.¡±

    ¡°You looked me up?¡±

    ¡°Yes, because that¡¯s what people do nowadays. You don¡¯t exist Tallin.¡±

    Kallix. ¡°Relax Arika. I¡¯m sorry. It¡¯s just that¡­¡±

    ¡°Tallin?¡± Principal Lohib¡¯s eerily steely voice hits the back of my head like a club. I glance over my shoulder. Navy blue linen. I want to vomit.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°I need you in my office. Now.¡±

    ¡°Um¡­ alright,¡± I murmur, standing up with my cup. I down the juice, forcing the artificialness down my throat. Why can¡¯t I just eat rotten trash instead of this diluted plastic with sugar?

    Arika doesn¡¯t look up from her food as I try to make eye contact with her. What is this about? Did she snitch on me? That bitch, to think I trusted her. Oh damnit I might need to make a run. How¡­ the crowds will give me cover to get to my dorm, and I can probably make it across the field before anybody can reach me¡­ but the electric fence? Shit, how electric is it? Will it kill me? Damnit what am I supposed to do now?

    We reach his office, and I¡¯d felt more dread entering the police station when I got arrested. I sink into the sessel, situated across his desk, designed to make me feel small. Screw him. How can I be intimidated by a freaking high school principal?

    He exhales extensively, pinching the bridge of his nose. ¡°Were you expelled from your previous school?¡± he asks me.

    ¡°What? No!¡±

    ¡°Look, Tallin¡­ I¡¯m not sure you understand how the rules of our school operate.¡±

    ¡°What¡­ do you mean?¡±

    He pulls a heavy cigar from his pocket and lights it, taking a deep puff before he continues. ¡°I don¡¯t know how you¡¯ve been raised, or what the rules were in your previous school were, but in this institute, none of such behavior is tolerated in the slightest.¡±

    ¡°What the hell did I do!¡± I shout. Damnit. Mistake.

    Lohib blinks and gives me an antagonizing minute to settle. If I were a cat, the hairs on my back would be tall and rigid. ¡°Stop acting like you are unaware of your action.¡±

    I stare at him in silence, desperately trying to pat down the fire in my eyes.

    After a moment passes, he leans forward until his breath, like smoke and synthetic beef, wafts over my face. ¡°Laila Feyn was reported for being a victim of sexual harassment¡­ by your hands.¡±

    I gawk at him as the seconds crash onto my head like boulders. ¡°Wh¡­wh¡­what? How on¡­ what the hell?¡±

    ¡°Please refrain from using profane language when addressing me, Tallin.¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t be serious.¡±

    ¡°This is a matter of utmost seriousness. I¡¯ve contacted Tauren Ksura, your¡­ guardian. She¡¯ll be arriving here shortly and I will discuss the matter with her to work out your punishment.¡±

    I can¡¯t even speak. Laila? She moved on me! What the actual hell. Screw that bitch! I swear I¡¯m going to kill her! I swear to freaking whatever that I am going to kill that bitch. ¡°Can I talk to Laila?¡± Shit, wrong move.

    ¡°Certainly not,¡± Lohib says, his words are a sword made of stone. Clunky, heavy, well refined, but they shouldn¡¯t be able to best me. How the hell did this happen. Freaking hell, what will I even tell Tauren? ¡°You will wait outside my office until she arrives,¡± Principal Lohib continues, ¡°And you shall talk to nobody.¡±

    ~

    ¡°You know I didn¡¯t do it,¡± I assert, walking after her.

    ¡°Yes, I know you didn¡¯t do it,¡± Tauren responds, dressed far to formally for me to be comfortable with. She looks like an actual, mature, got-her-shit-together adult. ¡°But that¡¯s not what this is about.¡±

    ¡°So then? Am I getting expelled? Can I stay with you again?¡± I ask, a spark of hope kindling in me. Damnit, since when did I get ordered around like a little bitch. Why am I asking for her permission?

    Oh yeah, because I¡¯ll freaking die otherwise.

    She shakes her head sternly. Tauren and stern don¡¯t go together in the slightest. ¡°No, you aren¡¯t and no you can¡¯t.¡±

    We reach the gate of the school. ¡°At least give me an update,¡± I whisper as she collects her things from the guard.

    She turns back around and lets her adult expression melt off for a moment, and I see the good old, fun loving, reckless and loving Tauren that I¡¯ve known for so long. ¡°Kallix I¡¯m sorry you have to do this, and I know it must be torture for you, but the longer I¡¯m here, the greater the chance that you¡¯re discovered and I¡¯m found. Me being here puts both of us at risk. I have to go.¡±

    ¡°Damnit Tauren please,¡± I mutter.

    Her green eyes contort my soul. I turn away. She makes for the gate.

    ¡°Tauren wait.¡±

    She stops.

    ¡°Be safe,¡± I mutter, embracing her.

    She hugs me back, and for a moment, I¡¯m safe in her warmth. Her shield of love blasts off the torrent in my brain and gunshot echoes in my ears. ¡°Kaloaan¡¯s better. He¡¯ll be able to spearhead the assault.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what I was afraid of,¡± I respond.

    Her expression is painful. At least I don¡¯t have to look at it for very long, as it¡¯s quickly replaced by the sound of a heavy SUV engine starting and my heartbeat speeding up again.

    Back alone in prison.

    Damnit. Damnit damnit damn this damn place.

    ¡°Ohhhh shiiiiiit!¡± I hear the guttural mob cry of Davrin and his cronies. ¡°Who is that?¡±

    ¡°Is it your mom or your sister?¡± Feraq asks, directly at Davrin¡¯s side.

    I exhale sharply, letting my nostrils flare. I¡¯m trying to think of a response that won¡¯t get me beaten to a pulp, when Davrin leans close to me. ¡°Either way,¡± he whispers, ¡°I¡¯m gonna bone her until her eyes roll back into her head and she calls me daddy.¡±

    My bicep twitches. Too many. Too damn many of them. ¡°Do whatever you want. Doesn¡¯t affect me,¡± I mutter, turning away from them.

    The guard is blocking my path. ¡°No students are allowed this near to the gate during school hours, please return to class. Your breaktime is nearly over.¡±

    ¡°Sorry.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, sorry sir,¡± Davrin responds, with mock respect. He¡¯s disgusting. I¡¯m the one who¡¯s supposed to be giving people mock respect.

    I pace towards my class, unsure if I should break out into a complete run. It¡¯s useless, honestly. If I escape him now, he¡¯ll just find me again in the dormitory. I can run as much as I want but I¡¯m in a cage. I¡¯m a rat in a cage and he¡¯s my owner, staring at me through the little grills. Shit.

    But no, apparently this time he doesn¡¯t want to bide his time. He wants me now.

    ¡°Do think her tits taste as good as they look?¡± Feraq asks Davrin at the top of his lungs.  Why are there no other students around?

    ¡°Even better,¡± Davrin shouts. ¡°Last night they were sooooo good¡­ I bit them until her nipples nearly popped off.¡±

    Keep walking. Keep goddamn walking.

    ¡°And what about her vagina?¡±

    ¡°Freaking hell it bled! My dick was way to big for her. I practically tore it open, pulled her hair and slapped that juicy ass.¡±

    Don¡¯t stop walking. Nobody can talk about Tauren like that. That¡¯s utterly grotesque.

    ¡°Hey Tallin. You want some sloppy seconds? Maybe you can wank while you watch me with her tonight?¡±

    I turn on my heel and stare him dead in the eye. He¡¯s still ten paces from me, with Feraq. I can outrun him easily. One hit and I¡¯ll disappear. I just have to¡­

    The ground slams into my face. Shit. Owwwww.

    Like crow caws in rapid slow motion, laughter flaps around me. Damnit. Pick yourself up, coward.

    ¡°Get up, punk,¡± Davrin spits.

    I get to my knees. Damnit, my cheek is bleeding. How did that?... oh, two more of them behind me. Nice. Perfect, honestly.

    I stand, facing him. Four in total, and nothing at all to climb. They¡¯re too near for me to even attempt to zigzag. How can I even¡­ is that Laila?

    I see her over Davrin¡¯s shoulder, standing a few feet behind him, pink sneakers and a flowery skirt. That bitch came to see me die.

    ¡°What do you want?¡± I demand, straight to the puppet duke himself.

    ¡°You to understand your place,¡± he responds, shoving me square in the chest. I stagger into another of his crew, who kicks at my knees, taking me down again.

    ¡°I said get up, punk!¡± Davrin shouts, pulling me up by my collar. Where the hell are all the teachers now?

    I stare him dead in the eye, pulling everything I¡¯ve learnt from Zorikan together. He flinches, but only for the briefest moment. ¡°Here¡¯s what¡¯s going to happen,¡± he starts, ¡°I¡¯m going to punch you in the face, and then I¡¯ll do it again and again and again until I¡¯m satisfied that your nose is broken enough. Ok?¡±

    I huff. ¡°Jokes on you; it¡¯s already broken.¡±

    ¡°I swear to god you little shit-¡±

    ¡°Davrin stop!¡±

    Laila? I wonder.

    ¡°Laila?¡± he asks.

    ¡°Please. Stop it, would you?¡±

    He drops me. I feign a crumple to my knees.

    ¡°Why?¡± he asks.

    ¡°I don¡¯t want you to hurt him. He¡­ he didn¡¯t do anything.¡±

    What?

    ¡°Are you insane?¡± Davrin cries, ¡°I saw what he did to you.¡±

    I force myself to stay down, pretending to cower. I can see Feraq and one other dude from here. There eyes are locked on Davrin and Laila, not me. This might be my chance.

    ¡°He didn¡¯t do anything. I swear it was¡­¡± Laila¡¯s voice trails off.

    Then she screams.

    I bolt, straight beside Davrin and take the hell off.

    She cries out in pain again.

    Run. Keep running. Don¡¯t stop goddamn running.

    I reach the threshold for the hallway of classrooms and stop. I¡¯m not being followed. Like the idiot I am, I risk a glance over my shoulder.

    Davrin¡¯s hand has all of Laila¡¯s neck in it. Her eyes are teary and he¡¯s whispering something in her ear. Freaking hell. Why are there monsters everywhere?

    ~

    There are monsters everywhere because I live in a monster farm. We all do. Funnily, the only way to escape this monster farm, metaphorically of course, is to realize that we aren¡¯t the good one, surrounded by all these monsters, but rather a monster being farmed just like everyone else. Once you¡¯ve done that, you might be slightly less of a monster. Slightly, maybe not at all, but is a self-aware monster any less of a monster? No. It doesn¡¯t matter what goes on in your mind, whether you feel bad about the things you do, or regret or remorse, it¡¯s the things themselves that matter. If a monster kills somebody, feeling bad about it doesn¡¯t make the deed any better. Actually, it makes it worse, because a regular monster might not entirely know the consequences of their actions and understand that the other monster, they¡¯ve killed is just like them. But a self-aware monster? This one knows what its doing and it understands the consequences, yet it¡¯s still done it. That¡¯s the horrible part. That¡¯s why I¡¯m worse.

    But it¡¯s a good thing that all of that is total bullshit. Besides the part about being in a monster farm, of course. And the rest of it too.

    I sigh.

    I hand in the exam and tread lightly through the crowds, my eyes scanning for the monster that hunts me. Worse monster or not, he¡¯s a bigger one. And he¡¯s got a pack.

 3.14: Soaked Soul

    14

    ¡°Hey. Hey Tallin. Wake up.¡±

    ¡°Ughhhh,¡± I groan. To be so abruptly stolen from the warm hearted sleep¡¯s embrace is like to be throne into a melted glacier and birth. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re going for a night swim. Wanted to know if you¡¯re in.¡±

    ¡°Dude,¡± I murmur, realizing that it¡¯s Terrel standing beside my bed and not the Grim Reaper. ¡°Haven¡¯t we got in enough trouble already?¡±

    ¡°Trouble? Bro this kind of stuff happens on a monthly basis. C¡¯mon it¡¯s chill. Plus, we literally cannot be caught. We¡¯ve got this full proof plan. And there¡¯s no alcohol involved so we¡¯re safe no matter what.¡±

    ¡°And weed?¡±

    ¡°Oh Yannis and I smoked earlier, but we¡¯re fine now. C¡¯mon mate, it¡¯ll be fun.¡±

    To be offered to walk through dewy grass at dawn in bare feet may seem like a punishment, but when locked in prison it is a reward. It¡¯s odd how circumstances change our world view. ¡°Fine. But not because we¡¯re friends.¡±

    ¡°I know, I know. You don¡¯t have to worry about us becoming friends, I¡¯ve got enough as it is,¡± Terrel laughs.

    I claw myself out of bed and trudge along after him, finding Yannis at the stairs. The three of us slink through the dormitory and out the fire escape. During the night, the school is like a once burning body, finally turned to ash. Each and every guard is snoring loud enough to muffle our footsteps.

    We pick up Arika along the way and  reach the pool. The metal barred fence that surrounds it is locked.

    ¡°Yannis you¡¯re up,¡± Terrel whispers.

    ¡°Up where?¡± Yannis asks back, his bloodshot eyes scanning the stars.

    ¡°Not up somewhere! Like, this is your moment. You¡¯re tiny. Squeeze through the bars and unlock the gate from inside.¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°I made a deal with the bars. I need consent to squeeze through them. They wouldn¡¯t give it to me. Sorry man.¡±

    Freaking hell this dude is blazed.

    ¡°Damnit Yannis, c¡¯mon!¡± Terrel hisses.

    Purely out of frustration I quickly clamber over and drop down on the other side, silent as a mouse that¡¯s pretending to be Kallix Rane. I unlock the door and absorb the hushed cheers.

    Terrel careens forward, launching himself into the pool. Yannis follows with blissful shrieks. I pad to the pools edge, and glance down at its inky contents.

    Arika is behind me.

    ¡°Is the cat afraid of water?¡± she asks.

    As a matter of fact, I am. Actually, not afraid, just reserved. Water is for fish. Fish are all dead. Therefore, nobody should really be in water as of now. ¡°I just¡­ not sure if this is a good idea.¡±

    ¡°Obviously its not a good idea,¡± Arika says with a smile. Whether it¡¯s a mask or true flesh, I¡¯m oblivious to. ¡°That¡¯s why we¡¯re doing it.¡±

    A dozen witty responses coagulate in my brain, eager to leap off my tongue, when she shoves me forwards. Instinctively I grab onto her forearm and both of us fall into the water.

    Terrel and Yannis go wild, whooping and howling, splashing water at each other and diving under the surface. To my own surprise, I join them.

    The four of us whirl and splash and shout in the water. I¡¯m stuck in a time capsule of my youth. Thrown into a time before my life was hungry and drunken.

    After a while, the hidden chain that confines me to being who I am drags me out of the water by the neck. Dripping my facade, I sit, leaning against the bleachers that overlook the pool. I¡¯m granted a moment of observant clarity, watching my not friends enjoy this brief sparkle in their lives, before Arika sits next to me.

    ¡°I would¡¯ve thought more,¡± she says to me.

    What? What is that supposed to mean? ¡°Of?¡± I ask.

    ¡°You. Tallin Ksura shirtless. Thought it would¡¯ve been a gawking spectacle,¡± she says. At least, that¡¯s what I think she says. The last part was partially drowned out by Terrel and Yannis¡¯s kerfuffle.

    I plaster a mock grin on my face for the briefest of moments before tearing it off and incinerating it. ¡°Sorry to disappoint.¡±

    ¡°I accept your apology,¡± she responds, laden with sarcasm. ¡°But it is amazing isn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°What?¡± I ask, with rare genuineness.

    ¡°How we can basically almost see the moon through the clouds tonight,¡± she nods up at the blanket of smog that calls itself a sky.

    She¡¯s right. We can nearly see the moon through the clouds. That¡¯s tragic. ¡°You know¡­ I spent some time in the Dunes a while back¡­¡±

    ¡°What were you doing in the Dunes?¡± she asks.

    ¡°Long story. The point is, when I was in the Dunes, the sky was¡­ freaking amazing. It was beautiful and speckles and haphazard and scintillating. If I hadn¡¯t have been so tired all the time, I probably wouldn¡¯t have been able to sleep because of how bright it was.¡±

    ¡°Bright?¡± she asks, with a singular, towering eyebrow. ¡°The night was bright.¡±

    ¡°Impossible to believe,¡± I huff. ¡°I know. But it¡¯s true¡­ and it was magical.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯ something we don¡¯t get anymore.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Magic.¡±

    ¡°Oh yeah¡­ I guess.¡±

    ¡°Can you take me there one day?¡±

    ¡°Huh?¡±

    ¡°To the Dunes. To see the stars. Can you take me there.¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°Because the Dunes are dangerous. There¡¯s a lot of warfare and no water.¡±

    ¡°I thought you didn¡¯t like water.¡±

    ¡°I like to drink it, not swim in it.¡±

    A long pause.

    She clears her throat, prompting me to glance at her. ¡°Why don¡¯t you like me?¡± she asks.

    ¡°What?¡± I respond, instinctively. It¡¯s at this point that I realize I¡¯ve responded like that far too many times for a single conversation. ¡°That¡¯s a very¡­ broad question.¡±

    ¡°And I mean all broad possible interpretations. You don¡¯t like me as a friend, as a person, or anything else, and I don¡¯t know why.¡±

    ¡°Who told you that?¡±

    ¡°Tallin¡­I¡¯m not at all an A student, but I don¡¯t need any of that bull crap to read somebody as blatant as you.¡±

    ¡°Um¡­¡±Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

    ¡°You avoid me, you shut me down when I try to converse and you¡¯re pretty much as asshole around me.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m an asshole around everybody.¡±

    ¡°Yet somehow I¡¯m special.¡±

    I look at the gnarled clouds above me. They offer zero comfort. I glance at her, but her raccoon eyes sear straight through me. Hey¡­ truth? What¡¯s wrong with that? What¡¯s wrong with the truth every now and then. You haven¡¯t done anything wrong¡­ for once in your life. Just tell her, it might be ok. ¡°Ok fine¡­ you caught me.¡±

    ¡°Ha, at last.¡±

    ¡°When I was younger¡­ I had a friend. A really close friend, who was more than a sister to me. I took care of her and whatever¡­ like a lot. We were very close and all¡­¡±

    ¡°And?¡±

    ¡°And she died.¡±

    Arika was stumped for a flicker. ¡°I¡¯m sorry but¡­ what¡¯s that got to do with me?¡±

    ¡°Her name was Yarika, and every time I see you, her¡­ she pops into my head. That makes me sad.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡±

    I¡¯m not sure what she expected me to say, or what she hoped to get out of the conversation, but it feels freeing to tell her.

    Then, like a flash flood, she wraps her soft arms around me. Her head lays on my shoulder and her breath strokes my neck. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    ¡°Sorry doesn¡¯t help you,¡± I murmur, but I let her hug me. Anybody who can hug me through the stench and bones and insults¡­ is something else. Something better than I am.

    ¡°You¡¯re like a caged wolf,¡± she begins, shifting closer to me. If I wasn¡¯t soaked and freezing in the icy night air, this would be cozy. ¡°Haggard and stoic and fanged.¡±

    ¡°Wolves don¡¯t have fangs,¡± I correct her.

    ¡°Whatever, but the wolf that you are¡­ is all of those things and is¡­ trying to protect itself. It¡¯s been caged after all, and it was caged by the people outside the cage, right? So the people outside the cage must be bad and therefor it must be hostile towards them. It¡¯s self-defense. The thing is that¡­ yeah, you were caged, and sure some of the people are bad¡­ most of them are bad actually, but you need to give credit to those who flow against the grain. Who remain good while shrouded in conformist darkness.¡±

    ¡°Arika.¡±

    ¡°Yeah?¡±

    ¡°How high are you?¡±

    ¡°Very.¡±

    I exhale. ¡°Makes sense.¡±

    ¡°Hold up,¡± she jolts upright. ¡°Where¡¯d they go?¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Terrel and Yannis?¡± she cries, standing up and shooting to the pool edge. ¡°Where¡¯d they go?¡±

    I scan the bleak poolside, but the night confines my vision.

    ¡°Oh shit¡­shit shit shit,¡± Arika panics.

    ¡°Calm down,¡± I say. ¡°Relax, they can¡¯t have gone far. They probably got cold and went back to the dorms.¡±

    ¡°They would have told us.¡±

    ¡°They were high.¡±

    ¡°Exactly! Think of all the shit they could get themselves into! Terrel acts like he¡¯s totally fine and has got everything under control, but if he messes up again he could get suspended or even freaking expelled!¡±

    ¡°Calm down,¡± I order. ¡°Look, be pragmatic. They probably¡­ thought we were going to hit it off, or something, so they left to give us some space, all right? I¡¯ll check the boys dorm, you get back before anybody sees you.¡±

    Arika evidently doesn¡¯t like this. ¡°Text me if you find them?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t have a phone, but don¡¯t worry. I¡¯ll find them. C¡¯mon, let¡¯s get back or we¡¯re going to freeze.¡±

    As we walk, a soft patter of snow dances down from the heavy clouds. I¡¯m not exactly sure how to comfort a hysterical teenager, so I awkwardly sling my lanky arm across her shoulders. It¡¯s not much, but it¡¯s all I can do right now. Thankfully, all the guards are huddled around each other, too busy keeping warm to care about watching out for delinquents trying to find fun in this prison. I¡¯m going to be so damn sick tomorrow.

    When we part, she hugs me. Fiercely, like as if she actually means it. I hug her back, unintentionally. Maybe we might¡¯ve actually become friends if I was here longer. Maybe we still might be if I don¡¯t commit suicide later on like I¡¯d planned to. Or maybe if I survive it.

    I steal back into the dorms and pull my soaked shirt off, quickly toweling off and pulling on a t-shirt and a hoodie.  Ok, where am I supposed to look for these idiots now?

    I peek into Terrel¡¯s room, but its empty. Davrin¡¯s room is right next to it with the light¡¯s on. He¡¯s arguing heavily with somebody on the phone.

    ¡°No! No I swear to you I didn¡¯t mean it. Mum¡­ c¡¯mon don¡¯t blame her. Serious! You can confiscate whatever you want! I swear mum it wasn¡¯t like that.¡±

    Not my problem. Not my problem at all.

    I head back up two flights of stairs to Yannis¡¯s room. The lights are on.

    I burst inside, flinging the door open and¡­ oh shit.

    Terrel screams, and frantically pulls up his pants. Yannis coughs, gags and recoils away from Terrel.

    I step out and let the door close itself. That was¡­ a regrettable decision. And that image isn¡¯t going to leave my mind anytime soon.

    ¡°Tallin I swear it isn¡¯t what it looks like,¡± Terrel calls through the door.

    ¡°Relax mate,¡± I respond, leaning over the handrail. ¡°I haven¡¯t got a problem. You worried Arika, that¡¯s all.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry Tallin, I really am.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t mention it,¡± I sigh, padding back to my room.

    I don¡¯t even bother trying to sleep tonight.

    ~

    I¡¯m staring at a math paper, yet it¡¯s covered in letters from the Greek alphabet. What the hell? Shiiiiit. I don¡¯t know the answer to a single one of these questions! Why would I, I haven¡¯t studied math in like four years. Shit shit shit. But that Principal Lohib bastard said he¡¯d take action if I failed another test. Damnnnnnniiiiit. I¡¯m screwed. What does that even mean? Take action, what is that supposed to be? Shit I¡¯m going to get expelled. I need to stay in school for at least another week. Damnit why don¡¯t I have a phone, I should call Tauren. Shit. Wait, Yannis seems to know what he¡¯s doing. Maybe if I pretend I¡¯m coughing then I can lean over far enough to see what he¡¯s¡­

    ~

    I flop back onto my bed. Fantastic. I¡¯ve been expelled. Principal Lohib seemed to take great pleasure in informing me of that. That bastard. Freaking twat. Screw it, I don¡¯t think I would¡¯ve been able to stand another week in this hell hole anyway. Yeah this is definitely a good thing.

    ¡°Damnit man, how¡¯d you manage that?¡± Yannis asks, sitting awkwardly on the edge of my bed. ¡°That¡¯s a record bro.¡±

    ¡°Yeah. Make sure you tell my story right?¡± I say, sitting up. I can help but let out a soft chuckle upon noticing that his feet barely touch the ground.

    He nods. ¡°Definitely bro. Damn, the dude who got expelled in two weeks. What a legend.¡±

    I begin to haphazardly shove my stuff into the duffle-bag. ¡°You should go for dinner.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not eating?¡± Yannis asks.

    I shake my head. ¡°Nah.¡± As he¡¯s leaving, I add, ¡°Have you got any joints on you? Might need to relax a bit.¡±

    ¡°Oh yeah, tons.¡± He reaches into his pocket and hands me one with a lighter.

    I fumble through my drawer, pulling out crumpled wads of cash. ¡°Thanks. How much do I owe you?¡±

    ¡°None,¡± he responds. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. On the house.¡±

    ¡°Thanks mate.¡±

    ¡°Have you told Terrel and Arika yet?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    He leaves. I¡¯m alone with my volatile emotions. I let apathy take the reins.

    I watch the sun set from the roof top. It¡¯s dull and fast. There¡¯s no spectacular array of colors, ranging from all sides of the color wheel. It¡¯s just a dull haze of greyish yellow, unable to fully pierce through the smog. No poetic metaphors pop into my head this time.

    I embrace the starless night and light the joint. I¡¯m coughing after the first few puffs. Damn. My lungs have gone soft.

    I let the hazy warmth flood through my veins. I a couple more puffs.

    The high cloaks me like a heavy blanket. I feel my tension ache trickling away. I feel it drip off my shoulder and roll into the gutter.

    I wonder how actual weed would act. Was it better or worse than this synthetic stuff? Is there any actual stuff left? I remember Salif told me that he¡¯d paid top dollar for some at a party once. He said it was overrated and that the synthetic stuff had increased the chemical content or whatever. He¡¯s dead now, so it doesn¡¯t matter. His death wasn¡¯t my fault¡­ right? No. Leave the self-loathing, nasty, barbed Kallix in the room for now. Let my enjoy my last night in hell.

    A grunt jolts me from my high.

    I see the hefty for of Terrel, hauling himself onto the roof. He clunkily makes his way up and seats himself next to me. ¡°So I hear you got expelled,¡± he says, his eyes locked onto the city lights beneath the burnt sky.

    I nod, letting out a plume of smoke. ¡°Yeah, it seems so.¡± I offer him the joint. He takes a puff and gives it back.

    ¡°It¡¯s alright. I¡¯m going to miss you mate but¡­ I don¡¯t think you were made for school in the first place.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s an odd thing to say.¡±

    ¡°No¡­ not for you,¡± he responds.

    ¡°What?¡± There I say it again. My new favorite word, because I¡¯m always so damn confused.

    ¡°Yeah. I mean, considering who you are¡­ you weren¡¯t made for school.¡±

    ¡°Excuse me.¡±

    ¡°You thought we didn¡¯t know?¡±

    I¡¯m taken aback.

    He shrugs. ¡°Arika figured it out first. She recognized you from a news headline a week ago. You were kind of her idol for a while.¡±

    I blink. ¡°You knew that I was¡­¡±

    ¡°Kallix Rane? Yeah. You weren¡¯t exactly discrete, you know. No regular sixteen year old can do all the shit you do.¡±

    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you say anything?¡±

    He shrugs. ¡°It never came up, I guess. Plus, who knows how you would¡¯ve reacted? Plus, we all sort of¡­ wanted to be your friend. You¡¯re something of a celebrity, you know that?¡±

    ¡°The hell?¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t know? Wow, you really are off the grid.¡±

    ¡°So like¡­ everybody knows about me?¡±

    ¡°Well, not everybody, but quite a few. I think that¡¯s why Davrin was so jealous of you.¡±

    I take a longer than should be healthy draw from the joint, finishing it. I flick it away and let smoke billow like I¡¯m a chimney.

    ¡°I thought it was pretty cool,¡± Terrel continues.

    I¡¯m a celebrity. That¡¯s disgusting. ¡°Why?¡± I ask.

    ¡°Well, nobody has the guts to do what you have. Everybody wants to go against the grain, to rebel, to tell the system to screw itself, but everybody¡¯s too afraid. Everybody¡¯s afraid of losing the comfort and security¡­ the warm blankets and timely meals. Everybody except you it seems.¡±

    I¡¯m not sure how to respond to that. ¡°But I¡¯m a dick.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, but you¡¯re real. I prefer the truth over pretty looking bullshit. Plus, I¡¯ve always wanted to do this.¡±

    He takes me by surprise, leaning over, holding my jaw and kissing me.

    The kiss lasts a few seconds. I don¡¯t kiss back.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± he mutters, pulling away, ¡°that¡¯s what I was expecting.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I blurt instantly. ¡°I¡¯m straight¡­ and all.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s alright. I understand.¡±

    I take a deep breath, steadying myself. ¡°I had a friend¡­ you would¡¯ve loved him.¡±

    ¡°Oh yeah? Why¡¯s that? Because he was gay?¡±

    ¡°Well, yeah, but he was also a hooligan, just like you. He was fun and crazy and wild¡­ but also gentle and kind. He also told the system to screw itself, and stuck out to make a life for himself.¡±

    ¡°What was his name?¡±

    ¡°Deqar.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a badass name.¡±

    ¡°He was nothing short of a badass.¡±

    ¡°Was? Don¡¯t tell me he¡¯s¡­¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve no idea if he¡¯s dead or not. Haven¡¯t seen him in a while.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ a very long story.¡±

 3.15: Dont Commit Suicide

    15

    Across the roofs I can reach anywhere. Soon, I¡¯m in the girl¡¯s dormitory, roaming the halls. I¡¯m not exactly sure why. I never really took a liking to any of them, so I¡¯m not here for that. I guess I¡¯m just here purely because I can. But then, when I see her, standing in a massive T-shirt and nothing else, I find a purpose to my final night.

    ¡°Why did you do it?¡± I ask her.

    Laila looks like she¡¯s suppressing a scream. ¡°Wha¡­ how¡­¡±

    ¡°First you freaking report me for sexual harassment or whatever, even though you came on me, and then you stand up for me that troll wanted to beat the shit out of me? What¡¯s your deal?¡±

    ¡°I¡­ I never reported you. Davrin did that. He was¡­ jealous I guess.¡±

    Oh shit. I can see the black and blue on her face from underneath her makeup. ¡°I¡­ I¡¯m sorry¡­ I thought¡­¡±

    She slips her tiny, soft hand into mine. ¡°Come,¡± she instructs, walking down the hall. I follow her, unsure of what¡¯s happening. She opens the door to what¡¯s presumably her room and lies down on the bed. I close the door.

    ¡°Laila¡­¡±

    ¡°You owe me.¡± It¡¯s like she¡¯s trying to muster the confidence to say it. She¡¯s terrified.

    I lurk in the shadows by the door for a moment. She switches on her bed lamp. What am I supposed to do? I¡¯m normally the thirsty one. Yeah she¡¯s hot but¡­ she¡¯s wearing so much makeup, so much perfume, and I¡¯m in no mood for anything like this.

    She lies back and opens her legs, letting the T-shirt fall up her body. I observe her for a moment. Her petite, athletic build, fake tan, soft legs¡­she¡¯s like an alternate version of Rieka. I¡¯m so damn confused.

    ¡°Please,¡± she says softly, trapping me with her giant eyes. ¡°I¡¯m so sick of that¡­ that monster. Help me, just this once before you go.¡±

    I take a deep breath. Rieka¡¯s stomach fluttering smile forces its way into my imagination. I approach the bed, placing my hands on her knees.

    She swallows, closing her eyes and tilting her head back. Her caramel hair falls perfectly around her shoulders. It¡¯s so damn perfect. So unreal. So synthetic. I should run. I should take off back to my dorm and hide in my room, then leave as soon as possible, never see her again.

    She¡¯s breathing heavily now, as I let my calloused hands slide down her inner thighs. Damnit. How about you don¡¯t be a dick. You¡¯re learning how to do that, aren¡¯t you? Not be a dick? A coward? A cynic? Do something for somebody else, for once in your life. Freaking hell.

    I slide two of my fingers in. A soft moan escapes her pink lips. She¡¯s already soaked. I move closer, looking up her body. We make eye contact for a brief moment, and she nods nervously. I let my beast side take over.

    One of my hands snakes up her torso, softly fondling her breast while the other grips the underside of her thigh, making her quiver. I delve into her with my tongue, letting its uncanny length come into use.

    She switches the light off, just as her legs start to kick out. I go deeper, wider and further. I close my eyes too, letting the images of Rieka flood my mind.

    Laila lets out a whimper, grabbing the back of my head with both her hands. I force all my pent up energy into her, scouring her insides until she¡¯s reduced to a twitching wet mess.

    I wipe my mouth on my sleeve and stand up. She says something, but I don¡¯t hear it. I¡¯m already gone.

    I let the door shut behind me, turning to make my escape, when I nearly crash into Arika. She nods softly, hurt in her eyes. ¡°Arika¡­¡± I begin.

    ¡°No, it¡¯s alright. She¡¯s the pretty, popular girl or whatever. I get it.¡±

    ¡°You know I don¡¯t care about that stuff.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine, Kallix,¡± she says my name with venom. ¡°It¡¯s fine. I just through that you¡­ you of all people¡­ Kallix Goddamn Rane, would be above this.¡±

    Tension creeps up my shoulder. ¡°Arika I told you that¡¯s not¡­¡±

    ¡°Oh, you¡¯re going to lie to me now?¡±

    I think she¡¯s going to cry.

    ¡°Do you think I didn¡¯t hear her moans?¡±

    ¡°Arika¡­¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s goddamn fine, Kallix. I¡¯m used to it by now.¡±

    I¡¯m too stunned to say anything for a moment, but her eyes, even in the darkness, bear into my soul. This wasn¡¯t¡­ I¡¯d just been trying¡­

    I step forwards and embrace her, desperately trying to sooth her in the same way that Tauren does to me. Her slap hits the thick, wormy scar on my neck, where I was shot. ¡°Go away,¡± she hisses.

    ¡°Arika I swear I¡­¡±

    ¡°Leave!¡± she shouts.

    ¡°Shhhh! A teacher¡¯s going to come.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t care! Get out of my sight!¡±

    I flinch. She¡¯d been so¡­ comforting and soft earlier. How did¡­ is that what I do? I turned her into this. This was my fault.

    ¡°Kallix I swear to god if you don¡¯t leave right now.¡±Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°I would rather it have been you,¡± I blurt.

    She blinks.

    ¡°I told you, I didn¡¯t have a choice. I would never do that with her¡­¡±

    ¡°Oh yeah?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    ¡°Well you¡¯re a sad, lying, shit eating snake. No get the hell out of my sight.¡±

    I sigh. ¡°Alright.¡±

    There¡¯s nothing else I can do.

    No more damage I can cause.

    I leave.

    And I¡¯ve disappeared by morning.

    ~

    ¡°Was it that terrible?¡± Tauren asks me.

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to talk about it,¡± I murmur.

    ¡°That¡¯s alright, you don¡¯t have to.¡±

    I would¡¯ve thought that she¡¯d be pissed off that I got expelled so fast, but she¡¯s purely amused.

    ¡°I honestly thought you¡¯d go faster,¡± she says with a laugh. ¡°I¡¯m proud that you managed to stay that long.¡±

    I rest my head against the tinted window of the bulletproof SUV we¡¯re being driven in.

    ¡°Did you make any friends at least? Get laid? Find a drug plug?¡±

    I shake my head against the glass.

    ¡°Oh come on, Kallix,¡± she says, resting her hand on my thigh. She gives it a squeeze. ¡°Brighten up man¡­ I missed you.¡±

    I swallow. ¡°Yeah¡­ I missed you too. School kids are total twats.¡±

    She laughs. ¡°There you are.¡± She leans towards me. ¡°Your scar¡¯s healing well.¡± Her hand traces down my neck. ¡°Are you going to get the stitches removed? I mean, you have to, but when? I can take you before you go.¡±

    ¡°Nah. I¡¯ll do it after. Once all of this shit is done.¡±

    ¡°Are you nervous?¡±

    ¡°Of course. It¡¯s suicide Tauren. I¡¯m literally, willingly, putting a noose around my neck.¡±

    ¡°First of all, it isn¡¯t. Over half the police force will be there and I don¡¯t know how many dozen Swifters with you. Zorikan and Kaloaan working together?¡± She says it with a twinkle in her eyes. ¡°That¡¯s a force to be reckoned with, don¡¯t you think?¡±

    I let out a prolonged exhale through my nose. ¡°I mean, yeah, but no matter how heroic or intimidating they are¡­ they¡¯re just people. One bullet and they¡¯re dead.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s pretty morbid, Kallix,¡± she says with a pained expression.

    I hold her gaze for a moment, then she bursts into laughter.

    ¡°Haha! C¡¯mon, you can stay at my place for the last few days before you go on your¡­ suicide mission, as you call it. Let¡¯s celebrate why don¡¯t we?¡±

    The car pulls over, and we duck into the archway that leads to her door. She unlocks it, and the calm, fruity air blasts me. It feels like I¡¯ve stepped into a house I¡¯ve grown up in. I flop onto her couch, lined with unbelievably fluffy pillows. ¡°Celebrate what?¡±

    ¡°Well, if you¡¯re going to die, we might as well celebrate you having lived such an unforgettable life!¡± She declares, throwing her hands up into the air.

    She stands for a moment, looking at me looking at her. She¡¯s wearing a green woolen sweater that compliments her eyes of the same color and tight dark blue jeans.  Her fiery hear flows around her shoulders, magnificently. She then squeezes her breasts together. ¡°My eyes are up here, remember?¡± She scoffs playfully. ¡°Some things never change.¡±

    ¡°Hey, I was looking at your hair!¡± I protest.

    ¡°Suuuure,¡± she says sarcastically. She bends over in an exaggerated sexual manner and opens a cupboard beneath her TV table. ¡°Still looking at my hair?¡± she asks.

    ¡°Ok that wasn¡¯t at all my fault.¡±

    She laughs, then holds up a large black and gold bottle. Whiskey, no doubt about it. ¡°Check this out.¡±

    ¡°I thought you were going sober!¡± I call.

    ¡°Yeah, for the most part. But you can¡¯t celebrate with juice, can you?¡±

    ¡°Aww yes!¡± I cry, sitting upright. ¡°This is why I love you.¡±

    She hands me the bottle and fetches a couple glasses. They¡¯re so intricately made, I can¡¯t imagine how expensive they must be.

    ¡°How does it feel?¡± I ask her as she takes the bottle from me.

    ¡°How does what feel?¡± she asks, tearing the wrapping off the top of the bottle. She then proceeds to pretend to suck it like a massive cock, making eye contact with me.

    ¡°Freaking hell Tauren,¡± I laugh. ¡°How does it feel to¡­ to live like this?¡± I wave my hands around at her house. She pours the glasses. ¡°To be rich.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a contrast,¡± she starts, picking up her glass and leaning back. ¡°A big contrast¡­ to my entire life up until now. I feel safe, even though I¡¯m literally being hunted by the most powerful group of assassins in the world. I can have almost anything I want, so it¡¯s like sleeping under a fluffy blanket after having a hot shower, while your entire life you¡¯d been sleeping under your own hoodie, using your backpack as a pillow, still smelling the sweat of the day¡¯s hustle on you.¡±

    I sip the whiskey. I can taste its age. ¡°Damn¡­ this is good shit.¡±

    Her eyebrows bounce, then she swigs the quarter glass down in a single gulp. ¡°Aw¡­ shit,¡± she coughs.

    ¡°What? Tauren coughs? I thought you were the best drinker in the world!¡±

    ¡°I was,¡± she corrects. ¡°Then I went sober. Damn I forgot how scintillating the burn is.¡±

    ¡°Scintillating? You¡¯re talking to a practical illiterate over here.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯re you saying? You just got out of school!¡±

    That sends me laughing. I swig the glass as well. She pours us some more.

    This is going to be one fantastic nigh¡­

    Somebody bangs on the door. Three urgent raps.

    We freeze.

    The person knocks again. Faster. Louder.

    ¡°Hide,¡± Tauren mouths to me.

    I place the glass down and slink to her bar-counter, vaulting over it, careful not to knock down the array of fruits, and crouch down.

    I peer over the edge, watching her creep to the door and look through the keyhole. She lets out a breath of annoyance and opens it. ¡°What do you want?¡± she demands.

    ¡°Is Kallix here?¡±

    Kaloaan. Tauren sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. ¡°Kallix!¡± She calls. ¡°Your brother¡¯s here.¡±

    Damnit. Why why why¡­ does he have to ruin everything? I pad to the door as Tauren steps out of the way.

    ¡°Kallix,¡± he says, relief in his voice. ¡°You¡¯re alright?¡±

    I nod.

    ¡°Sorry. Tauren, may I come in?¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± she says, with exasperation

    ¡°Thank you.¡±

    His politeness is naught but nauseating. ¡°What is it?¡± I demand.

    ¡°We need to go.¡±

    ¡°Why? We aren¡¯t moving for like four more days.¡±

    He grimaces. ¡°We¡¯re ready and so are the Swifters. Any day we waist is time that Qiara could learn about our plans. If that happens, then the attack will fail.¡±

    I blink. ¡°So then¡­ when are we going?¡±

    ¡°Tomorrow. First thing in the morning.¡±

    ¡°What? Tomorrow? Shouldn¡¯t we go at night?¡±

    ¡°I discussed this with the others. She¡¯d be expecting an attack at night, if at all. Nobody attacks at the crack of dawn. Hopefully her men will be tired and off guard.¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­ shit,¡± I rub my temples.

    Tauren and Kaloaan exchange awkward glances. ¡°You want to try and persuade him not to come?¡± he asks her.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you think I¡¯ve tried?¡±

    Kaloaan sighs. ¡°Kallix?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m coming,¡± I mutter. I wish I was as solid as my words are. Maybe I shouldn¡¯t come. I won¡¯t be adding anything to the team honestly. Just putting my own life at risk. Maybe I should bail, just stay here with Tauren and have fun. Kaloaan would like that. Tauren would like that. I would like that.

    ¡°Kallix we don¡¯t have time. We need to go,¡± Kaloaan says, anxiously glancing over his shoulder.

    Tauren shoots me a pained expression. ¡°Sorry,¡± she says, before diving into a hug.

    I close my eyes and hug her back with ferocity. I soak myself in her sweet, fruity perfume, burying my face into her hair. She hugs me even tighter. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t apologize,¡± she says, her soft lips brushing against my ear. ¡°This isn¡¯t the last time we¡¯re going to see each other. I know it.¡±

    I can¡¯t say anything in return. The knot in my throat won¡¯t allow it. I don¡¯t want to pull away. She knows I¡¯m not going to, so she does first.

    ¡°Stay safe,¡± Kaloaan mutters, holding his police cap in the cringey, local town cop kind of way.

    ¡°You too,¡± she responds.

    How in the hell am I supposed to stay safe when I¡¯m practically committing suicide. Wait, there is a way to stay safe while committing suicide. You know what the way is? Don¡¯t commit suicide. Yeah, that¡¯s smart. How about that. Why don¡¯t I just not commit suicide.

    Damnit, let¡¯s see how this unfolds.

 3.16: Flowers in the Rain

    16

    When we arrive, the police station is in chaos. They tried as much as possible to repair it after the attack, but its desolation is evident. Officers are hustling around, distributing equipment, exchanging nervous small talk and suiting up with assault armor.

    Kaloaan and I step out of the SUV. I¡¯m nearly run over by a trolley of medical equipment. ¡°Tash! Tash give me some good news,¡± Kaloaan calls.

    The lanky officer shakes his head. ¡°Sorry chief, I¡¯ve got none. We¡¯re short on guns.¡±

    ¡°Short on guns?¡± Kaloaan asks incredulously. ¡°How on earth are we short on guns?¡±

    ¡°No idea, but we are.¡±

    ¡°Damn,¡± Kaloaan mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. ¡°Well¡­ give the rest baton and riot shields.¡±

    ¡°Are you serious sir?¡±

    ¡°Do you have a better idea?¡±

    Tash frowns.

    ¡°Sir! Should I give everybody a med pack or only the medics?¡± an officer named Turia asks.

    ¡°Why hasn¡¯t this been sorted already? Where are the Swifters?¡±

    ¡°Not here yet,¡± Tash murmurs.

    ¡°Are you kidding me?¡± I ask Kaloaan. This is a complete mess.

    He glances at me, but quickly dismisses my existence.

    The distant roar of many engines silences the bustle.

    I turn, walking around the SUV onto the empty road. The roar grows louder until it¡¯s nearly deafening. Kaloaan, Tash, Grell, Turia, Vosnik and dozens of other officers join me, staring down the road.

    Like a herd of wild horses, a group of Dune Rovers veer onto the lane, engines screaming. People clad in track pants and torn hoodies are packed into them and standing on the doors and bumpers holding the roof bars with guns in hand and grenades tied to their shoulders with rope. They¡¯re hollering and firing into the air, not stopping as they draw nearer. We¡¯re forced to back onto the front of the station as they screech to a halt, a good number of them leaping off and landing with precise rolls. There¡¯s probably around sixty Swifters total. Far more than I would¡¯ve reckoned.

    A scrawny man with a dark blue spikes for hair and a rainbow goatee that¡¯s so long he¡¯s tied it into knots saunters over. His face has black streaks across it and his eyes dart around like a rabid animal. He stops in front of the crowd of policemen and the Swifters press up behind him, bouncing on their heels and twirling their guns. Where did they get so many guns from?

    Kaloaan steps to the front, opposite to the rabid looking man. ¡°Where¡¯s Zorikan?¡±

    The man twitches. ¡°Name¡¯s Dakrey Valaggrasgor. Pleasure,¡± he says, extending a hand. It¡¯s covered in tattoos and morbid rings.

    Kaloaan doesn¡¯t take it. ¡°Where¡¯s Zorikan?¡± he presses again.

    Dakrey gives a mock wince. ¡°D¡¯you miss him.¡±

    Oh no. I knew Zorikan¡¯s men had lost some of their loyalty for him but¡­wait, never mind.

    The crowd parts and his familiar figure walks calmly up to Kaloaan. ¡°I hear you need guns,¡± he says.

    Kaloaan¡¯s taken aback, glancing to the others. Tash shakes his head in surprise and Turia wide eyed.

    How did he know that?

    ¡°What makes you say that?¡± Kaloaan responds, pulling his confidence back together.

    Zorikan shrugs, then jerks his chin towards the police. Two dozen guns clatter to the ground at they¡¯re feet.

    All the officers stare at Kaloaan eagerly. He gives a cautious nod, and they¡¯re picked up and handed around. ¡°Thank you.¡±

    ¡°Well then, what¡¯re we waiting for? Let¡¯s move,¡± Zorikan orders, turning away and signaling for the Swifters to clamber back into the rovers.

    ¡°I thought we¡¯d agreed to attack at dawn?¡± Kaloaan calls.

    Zorikan halts, then turned slowly on his heel. No matter how many times I saw him, he always appeared eerier. ¡°Qiara¡¯s guards shift at nine. That¡¯s half an hour from now.¡±

    Kaloaan blinks in confusion. ¡°We¡¯d made an agreement.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t care,¡± Zorikan slices, coolly. ¡°Now¡¯s the time. We¡¯re going now.¡±

    Kaloaan¡¯s flustered. Not a common sight.

    I dig my nails into my palm as I catch myself scanning the mob for Rieka. Damnit let her go.

    Tash leans forward and whispers into Kaloaan¡¯s ear, ¡°With the guns here, we¡¯ve got all we need. We¡¯re prepared to set out now.¡±Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    I notice Kaloaan grit his teeth and his hands curled into fists. ¡°So be it.¡±

    Zorikan nodds. ¡°Fantastic.¡± He turns to the Swifters. ¡°Alright then, make yourselves at home!¡±

    They cheer, surging forwards, powering straight through the line of stunned policemen. Dakrey skitters up to Kaloaan, growls, and took off. Kaloaan fumes with anger.

    ¡°Hey, Kally!¡± somebody cries. I spin around, a smile overwhelming my face at the thought of seeing Sekera again.

    But nope. It was Akila. ¡°Hey!¡± I respond as he hugs me fiercely. She¡¯s wearing a white undervest, a yellow beanie and baggy jeans with a hefty construction belt around them. She looks just like the day I last saw her. The day we tried to infiltrate the underground Bansilin factory. The day Varan died. The last time I spoke to Rieka properly.

    ¡°Crazy innit?¡± she says, slinging her arm over me. ¡°The shit we end up doing just gets more and more ambitions. I honestly think we should succeed at something before moving to something more difficult.¡±

    I laugh. ¡°True. Hey, tell me, who the hell are all these people?¡±

    ¡°Yeah you been gone a while Kally,¡± she says. ¡°Zorikan got a load of recruits since then. Mostly from East Side.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d thought his number was depleting?¡±

    ¡°Oh they were. We were real few for a while. Twenty five-ish, at our lowest, but then this flood of newbies came in¡­ crazy bastards like that hound Dakrey.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m surprised you stayed.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    Maybe I shouldn¡¯t have said that. ¡°That you stayed with Zorikan¡­ you know, after the Raven¡¯s Nest thing.¡±

    ¡°Oh because a couple people died? That shit happens all the time! This is dangerous business. Plus, where else would I go? I¡¯m too ludicrous to get a job,¡± she laughs in her raspy voice. ¡°But yeah, Reeler, Barrlin, Varan and all the others¡­ they¡¯ll be missed. Hey you seen Deqar since then?¡±

    I grimace. ¡°Yeah. He left too though. I guess he couldn¡¯t take it.¡±

    ¡°Huh. I hope he¡¯s alright.¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­ me too.¡±

    ¡°Oh, but by the way¡­¡±

    ¡°Yeah?¡±

    ¡°Your little lady friend¡¯s here,¡± she says with a wicked, toothy grin.

    ¡°Rieka¡¯s¡­ ah shit.¡±

    ¡°Oh damn. Yeah, she told me about what a cunt you are. I didn¡¯t believe a word! Anyway. I best be going. Don¡¯t want all those tasty police donuts to be finished. Peace!¡±

    I swallowed.

    To commit suicide or not.

    Is it better to lose your life performing a heroic action, or to preserve it for future heroic actions.

    I catch myself looking around for her, but not before I see her¡­ and she sees me. The impossibly brief moment of eye contact that we share sends shivers down my spine. Her eyes are more electric than a hurricane.

    I look away so hard I nearly strain a muscle in my neck.

    ~

    I weave through the station. Swifters are trashing everything they don¡¯t care for officers are desperately trying to organize each other and fights are on the verge of breaking out. I manage to steal a police branded backpack and shove a couple water bottles, medical supplies and a combat knife. I move past the cells, making my way downstairs to where they keep their rations. No guard, just as I suspected, so I slink down and shove a couple cans of synthetic canned beef and energy bars in as well. This should last me a few days if shit goes south. When it goes south. Just as I¡¯m turning around I see her at the end of the stairs.

    My heart skips a beat.

    She nearly trips over herself.

    Damnit universe, why do this?

    I panic and a river of words tumble through my brain, but all that reaches my mouth is a singular, idiotic, simpleton syllable. ¡°Hi.¡±

    Rieka¡¯s breathing quickly. Her eyes dart to the rations, to me and then to my backpack. Last time she saw me, she pulled a knife on me. She says nothing.

    ¡°What¡¯re you¡­ doing down here?¡± I ask, awkward as a long-legged duck.

    ¡°There was no food. I haven¡¯t eaten in a while.¡±

    ¡°Oh. How come?¡± I speak slowly, racking my brain for ideas of what to do, but all it can concentrate on is how her hairs not tied in a ponytail, but flows past her shoulders like a waterfall. How soft it looks. How good it must smell¡­

    ¡°We haven¡¯t got any,¡± she says softly. ¡°We¡¯re short¡­ on everything¡­¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re short on supplies and Zorikan decided to take on the greatest threat in West Side?¡±

    Rieka shrugs and looks at the floor, her arms pressed close to her body.

    A shrug could not possibly be so cute. No¡­ no she¡¯s lethal¡­ she¡¯s a weapon¡­

    ¡°It¡¯s an assault¡­ and a raid. If we take the building, we get all the supplies.¡±

    ¡°Do you know Qiara? Do you know how heavily armed that building is going to be?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re over a hundred together.¡±

    ¡°And it¡¯s not going to matter. We¡¯re attacking the high ground. If she¡¯s got RPGs, which she likely does, most of us would be dead before we reach the building. It¡¯s suicide, you know that, right?¡±

    Rieka swallows, avoiding eye contact with me. ¡°It¡¯s not like we have a choice.¡±

    I flash back to Zorikan, drunk and helpless in the derelict skyscraper with my knife pressed to his neck. The story he told me. The final explanation to why Rieka refuses to remove the chain that he has around her neck. ¡°Yeah we do.¡±

    Her brow furrows a moment and I can see her thinking. Her shoulders slump. ¡°Why are you down here?¡±

    ¡°I was¡­¡±

    She shakes her head. ¡°You¡¯re running away. Of course. No¡­ of course you are. That¡¯s what you do.¡±

    ¡°Rieka it¡¯s suicide!¡± I protest. ¡°Suicide, valiant or not, ends the same. You¡¯re dead. None of the shit¡­ all the shit of your past¡­ none of that matters. Nothing you ever did matters if you¡¯re dead, Rieka.¡±

    She meets my eyes for a moment. I can feel a pulse of electricity, crackling down my spine. Why are her eyes so damn hypnotizing?

    ¡°And for what? So Zorikan can take out a rival? So you can get a few more supplies?¡±

    ¡°Did you forget the lives?¡± she strikes. ¡°All the lives that Qiara¡¯s taken? The innocent lives that she¡¯s going to take? Do those not matter to you? Beneath all that scar and bone you must have a heart Kallix¡­¡±

    I step towards her, my gaze searing. ¡°Don¡¯t you talk to me about having a heart.¡±

    ¡°Run away. It¡¯s fine. I won¡¯t tell the others and they won¡¯t notice you gone,¡± she tells me.

    I blink away tears, and step forwards again, taking both her hands. ¡°Come with me. We can get away and forget about any of this. We don¡¯t have to die yet. We¡¯re young Rieka, it¡¯s not fair¡­ this isn¡¯t right.¡±

    She recoils like as if I¡¯m made of acid. ¡°You¡¯re disgusting, Kallix.¡±

    I move away form her. The blade made of words remains impaled in my chest. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± is all I can mutter. Because that would do something. Because apologizing changes anything. I scrunch my eyes shut, bawling my hands up into fists and lose the fight against the knot in my throat. ¡°Rieka I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯m sorry for everything that happened. I¡¯m sorry I¡¯m such a dick and I know you don¡¯t deserve any of this shit. This world¡­ this world is just so fucked up and we¡¯re caught up in the middle of it like¡­ like branches in a hurricane. I¡¯m trying Rieka, I swear¡­ I¡¯m trying to be better but I¡¯m just so¡­ scared¡­ all the damn time. I don¡¯t know what¡¯s happening. It¡¯s not like it used to be. It¡¯s only cold.¡± I take a long, shaky breath.

    I¡¯m ready to embrace her. To hug her until we forget everything. To be innocent, fun loving, renegade teenagers again. I want to collapse into her. To tell her everything. To feel her soft hands through my hair and be safe again.

    But when I open my eyes I¡¯m alone in the room. I would¡¯ve been unsure if she was ever there if it weren¡¯t for her lingering scent¡­ of flowers in the rain.