Market day. I eat a tasty garden omelet? No, it’s definitely tasty, I just have no experience with omelets. I remember Mother telling me that the representatives from Warram would be arriving around ten o’clock so I should start heading that way.

While I would wholly revel in barging in on their little Orphan parade in the entry way, I decide to wait down the block until a train of vehicles I see are parked and the people are inside the Orphanage. When I figure they are deep into consideration of my charges and two traitors, I walk back to Our Lady Luck and climb up a van and sit on top of it to eat another ration. These things are so effing good.

About an hour later, I feel the roof I’m on flex.

“You know, it’s rude to have multiple bolt holes when I’m looking for you. I spent all morning to find you here.” I look over to match a face with the smooth tenor of a female voice that politely chastised me.

“Ahh, sorry miss. I find it appropriate when the Mother of my orphanage is trying to have me murdered.” I spear a rather large potato chunk and offer it to my . . . stalker?

“Oh? Which version of the omelet is it?”

“Garden with Ham?”

“Oh! Yes please.” She takes the fork and stabs a few additional potatoes before returning the utensil to me. “That was nice of you Kimber. I rather like this version of you over the one in the stories and records of the Orphanage.”

“Mmm, I am much more pleasant with a full belly. I’m Kimber Novarro. Whom might I be sharing a meal with?” My rooftop visitor stiffens slightly and I wonder if I’m about to be violenced.

“Oh! Yes, I’m Marcella Fontaine. I’ve been tracking you for non-creepy reasons. Geniveve, Desi, and Grace all claimed you ran away. One of our most anticipated . . . new members running? That is so against your profile, it was laughable. So, I tracked you down. Turns out, our profile of you was right. I like you already.”

“I am getting over-enthusiastic sister vibes from you. Is this normal?”

She scoffs. “No way. Normal doesn’t apply these days. I am looking for a protegee, and Warram’s algorithm says that you’re my girl.” She taps her cheek with her finger a few times before staring at something I can’t see.

“I wondered if Mother’s attempt at smoke and mirrors would work. So, we talking indenture, work donkey, or actual trainee?”

“Well, that’s a dark view. Who do you think we are?” She snorts and shakes her head, “Never mind, don’t answer that. Trainee, mostly, but also personal project. I want to work toward both of our goals, but we’re going to pursue them as aggressively as possible.”

“I mean, offering me my hopes and dreams is a good start. Where to I sign?” I say jokingly as I stuff a fluffy egg with onions and peppers in my maw.

“With the contract that Warram has with Our Lady Luck, I just adopted you. Sooo, you’re mine until you’re eighteen and you’re going to train your ass off.” I lock eyes with her and give her wording a serious glare. She looks away for a moment to huff and looks back. “Don’t make it weird. Of course, if you don’t want to work hard toward getting the best Track possible, then you could always decline.”

“Why do I feel like that even if I was afraid of working hard, it would be in my best interest to try anyway?” I say, moving on to the last few potatoes in my parcel.

“A lot of reasons, really, but you’re not dumb, so you’ll figure it out in time.” She stands up, brushes off her legs and rump and faces me again. “I’ve got some work to do, but once Parker is done with the selection process, you can tell him Fontaine talked with you already. See you soon, Kimber.” She hops off the roof, jogs behind the last SUV and hops on a motorcycle and motors away with her blonde pony streaming behind her.

That’s a solid exit, Marcella. Certainly not what I expected from meeting a leader in the biggest gang in Vegas, but as cool as she seems, when anyone tells you you’re going to do something until your ass falls off, there’s some pain in store.

“Why would she not take me with her?” I wonder out-loud and someone behind me coughs in response.

“Fontaine has more important things to do. Now get off my car and wait for the rest of the recruits to join us.” I look back and see he’s waving his pistol in a shooing motion.

It’s rude to pull a weapon when I’m being peaceful, but it is a solid way to tell me he isn’t kidding. I slide off the side and drop into a crouch, slumping just a bit more to lean against the tire as I finish my food. He must have had the window open before he turned the car off and I wasn’t paying attention. Was he reclined and taking a nap and I didn’t see his profile? I had glanced to look for a profile of a head, but didn’t see one. Huh.

I tuck the trash back in the pack I liberated from Jamie and try to relax, remembering that today is supposed to be a new lease on the near-constant stress that has been my time at the orphanage. There have been some good moments, I suppose. The faces on my rats when they learned a new skill, used a parkour route that they’d never completed before, or some other accomplishment that I’d pushed them to learn that gave them pride. Those moments were the best.

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

The front door to the orphanage opens to a pretty brunette in a plain black suit with a briefcase. She steps to the side, holding the door for a man in the most expensive-looking clothes I’ve ever seen. His confident smile and much too perfect complexion show that he’s used to attention and likes it, no expects it. I imagine he’s the one in charge today, so I stand, strap my pack on and get ready to greet him.

“If it isn’t the notorious runaway.” The man says before I can introduce myself. Guess he knows who I am. “I’m relieved that a potential asset of ours hasn’t been found dead.”

“Sorry for being late, sir. Had a disagreement that I had to work out.” He raises an eyebrow in interest but refrains from asking.

“Talia, make sure we have her updated bio data,” he told the brunette with a briefcase, then turned to the group of kids behind them. “Everyone load up in the vans starting with the rear of the convoy.” He turns back towards me and takes the remaining steps to me, his stare locking me against the side of the forward van. “As for you.” He starts to assess me, spending a good amount of time on features of my head and face.

I hear the briefcase open and moments later something is clamped around my bicep and the device pokes, punctures, and low-key shocks me before the woman takes it off again. I see all this happen in my peripheral vision as the man in front of me gives me the most invasive visual inspection of my life. Something at the base of my brain is encouraging me to scream or slap him, but before I can he steps back and nods to the woman beside me.

“Alright Kimber, let us get you in the van and we’ll talk more on the way.” She opens yet another door and coaxes me inside with a hand on my back and a light shove when I start to look backward. She follows me in and sits next to me and closes the door. Mr. Smile opens the passenger door and jumps in next to the driver.

A few minutes later, the vans behind us honk twice, quickly, and we pull out of the Orphanage parking lot at a sedate speed. I wonder if these vehicles are converted to aether-based drives or they have their goons scavenging petrol. After more than ten years since the Empress released the System on an unsuspecting Earth, gas has got to be getting scarce. There could be a refinery or something they can buy off the System Exchange, so who really knows.

“I’m not going to waste my breath on the spiel that I gave to the rest of the orphanage.” Smiley says, “but as a top-rated candidate, you’ll likely have multiple offers for sponsorship coming your way after the first few weeks of what we’re calling the proving grounds.

“To keep a sponsorship you’ll have to agree to direct your growth toward the department that picks you up. That said, your interests and capabilities will play a part in who selects you.”

At this point he describes the proving grounds and the particulars of the tests, trials, whatever. It’s obvious that Marcella and this man, who Talia eventually calls Parker, never talked about her picking up my sponsorship straight away.

Parker, who never introduces himself, continues to talk about the benefits of working for Warram, and especially the department he works in. This man is apparently called a ‘Face’. Charismatic and pretty, they are the public face of the organization and occasionally act as interrogators and spies. He lost me immediately as he talked about the advantages because being in the general eye of the populace of Vegas does not interest me whatsoever. If I get famous through action, great, but celebrity because I’m pretty? No thank you.

I also think that Parker is low-key hitting on me, which is creepy, but it’ll be interesting to see his ego take a hit when he finds out he has zero shot at influencing me that way. So far as I know, there’s no cure for gay, and I’ve only wanted to kiss girls since I was twelve.

“Since we’re a few minutes out, I’ll let you know what to expect when you arrive.” Parker sneers at the interruption but Talia carries on. “All of the recruits will stand in a line to get various inoculations before entering the building. Then, while the others will be separated by gender for supply and lodging purposes, you and the other three top-ranked will be further separated and briefed on expectations from representatives from the various departments. They will explain what is required of their teams. There will be a brief Q and A period, after which you will be asked to indicate your two top choices.”

So, Smiles was absolutely trying to get a leg up on the other departments. I respect the drive and subverting custom to get what you want. It’s just Marcella did it earlier and better; and from the five minute interaction, I felt strong role-model vibes. I so want to look that good in a leotard.

Lot of work ahead for that, Kimber, I scoff at myself. And remember, Marcella has made very few promises, so don’t be quick to tell other people they’re not the boss of you.

“That sounds pretty great, honestly. So, is the proving grounds more of a formality for the four of us?” I ask.

“I wouldn’t go that far. If you want into a department that demands physicality, you need to meet their requirements. Same for analytics, diplomacy, and so on. Until you sign an agreement with a department, don’t let up. No matter how promising the algorithm says you are, there are few things more common across humanity than wasted talent.”

That hits me. Marcella never had me sign anything. Despite her assurance, am I still part of this meat market? And here I thought I was done with uncertainty.

Take a breath, Kimber. You don’t know what’s going on, assumptions can only hurt you here. Maybe there was something in Marcella’s words that meant more than it seemed? Or maybe she’s a fucking rogue and a liar.

I take a few deep breaths to calm my runaway thoughts and it probably makes me look as nervous as I feel.

“It’s a lot to take in,” Talia says in a soothing, soft tone. “But it’s going to be much better than going back to Our Lady Luck.”

My head snaps in her direction, my eyes wide with disbelief. “Is that an option? Would you send us back?”

Parker chuckles, “It’s certainly possible, though unlikely. Your face would have to be ruined to the point it would be too expensive to fix. Most likely, you would be put in hospitality services should you fail to meet other department criteria.” I don’t like the way he says ‘services’, sounds like a way for perverts to abuse young women that don’t have any marketable skills.

My eyes narrow and my hands ball into fists as I bite back a retort full of fear and anger. I pull my chin away from Parker to look at the van door and promise myself that if I got placed in Hospitality ‘Services’ I would send as many perverts to the grave as I could manage before I followed them to hell.