The blade rushed from the shadows, slashing Alex’s cheek before snaking away with a rattle, like a diamondback hiding amongst the arid brush. Before it could strike again, Alex hurled herself behind a stack of pallets. She felt her heart shoot up her throat like a missile.

Heels clacked against the ground. A familiar grating voice yelled shattered the still air. “Ah, my favorite gweilo. How have you been?”

Aggravation clawed Alex’s throat when she thought of her name. Evelyn Xiang! Wherever Alex went, she followed like a rainbow on an oil slick. “Of all the fuckin' contracts, you had to take this one?" Alex readied her hand at her waist, peering around the pallets. She couldn’t see where Xiang was hiding.

“Of course." Her voice was like a fork scratching a plate.

Alex’s eyebrows twitched with a brewing fury. Again?! It’s like every job I take, this bitch appears. It's like she's a stalker. She tightened her hand around her gun’s grip for security. “You're nothin' bu a goddamn bottom feeder, ya know that?"

“That's funny."

Anger surged in her veins, but Alex couldn't let Xiang's petty insults break her focus. She was hiding somewhere in the dark. "Didn’t your parents ever tell your dumbass not to steal from others? That's what the nuns taught me!”

“Fuquin taught me to never kowtow to someone inferior." Her voice seemed to bounce off the walls, making it seem she was everywhere. "Let alone some stray animal."

I am not an animal! Alex grit her teeth, squeezing the trigger. She wanted to scream, but that would mean showing weakness and letting her emotions take control. Plus, it gave Xiang a sense of smug satisfaction knowing how easily she riled her up.

Silence filled the air. “Nothing to say?” Alex heard chains rattling overhead. A figure jumped between the rooftops before landing feet away from her. Xiang stepped out into the graceful moonlight from cloaked shadows. Long, jet black hair flowed over her shoulders. Her slender body wore a wine-red cheongsam. Golden lotus flowers blossomed across a red field underneath a white denim jacket. “How disappointing.”

Shen whimpered to himself. “First Mercer, now the Blood Lotus! Maybe if I give Woozie back the money, he-he’ll forgive."

Spoken like someone who’s in complete denial, Alex smirked. She squeezed the trigger with anticipation. That exhilarating feeling rushed back to her, overwhelming her senses. Her breathing came in short, aroused gasps as she heard Xiangs feet search the area.

“Come on out. My blades are hungry." Alex watched as the blades twirled in the air with a death rattle.

She pulled her gun out. Looks like they're gonna starve then. Her chest rose slowly and she closed her eyes.

“Come on, you mongrel!" The blades spun faster like a fan. "Show you're self!"

Alex waited as her heart pounded like someone was punching it like a speed-bag. Her eyes dilated, blood screaming. Fine! I'll show you what an animal can do! She stepped out and fired a single bullet. The empty casing clanged as it bounced to the ground.

Xiang narrowed her eyes and threw the chain. The blade carved the night air, inches from Alex's face. She threw herself behind the pallets just as the blade was snagged between the wood.

Leaping from cover, Alex fired again, hitting nothing. Her eyes searched frantically. Xiang seemingly vanished. Then she heard the familiar metallic rattle. A sharp sting sliced her cheek. The blade slithered back into the rooftop canopy. Alex heard the echoes surround her. She fired in every direction. She wanted to hear a thud, but only heard the empty casings clanging as they bounced on the pavement. Again the blade slashed from the dark, striking at Alex’s heart. She turned as they narrowly missed. The chain slunk back into the shadows. But then, moonlight revealed Xiang's position.

Alex fired while sprinting, but Xiang deflected the bullets with a metal fan. Sliding behind a dumpster, Alex quickly reloaded. When she emerged, she only saw a glimmering light spinning towards her. Xiang's metal fan sliced her arm before returning to its owner. Alex clutched her arm and looked up. Xiang then brandished her twin blades, their movements a lethal blur as they carved the air. One sunk its fangs into Alex's leg, while the other coiled around her arm. She felt the warmth of the blood leaving her body as it trickled to the ground. Xiang heaved the chains and Alex crashed to the ground. Her gun slipped from her hand. With each yank, the blades twisted deeper into her flesh. Grabbing the chains, Alex mustered her strength and pulled. Xiang spun off the roof, crashing into a group of crash cans below.

Tearing the blades out, Alex charged, driving her elbow into Xiang's chest as she staggered. Xiang gasped as she wrapped around Alex's leg, toppling her to the damp ground. She pounced, pinning Alex down to her knees. their eyes locked in a grim deadlock. Her breath came in ragged gasps as her lips twisted into a sinister grin. Alex clawed at the ground, desperate fingers trying to grab her gun. All she could her was the heavy thumping of her heart against her chest. Xiang's eyes followed her desperation and mirrored her prey's movement. Their hands scratched and clawed for the trigger. Alex grazed the gun just enough to tease the trigger. A shot fired and the gun spun, narrowly missing her skull.

Xiang's grip on the chain weakened, but she regained command. She pulled a hidden blade from her leg, raising it above Alex's head. Alex snatched Xiang's wrist, fighting to control the blade's direction. She pressed both hands down, guiding the blade towards Alex's heart.

Her eyes darted around for anything that was in reach. She clawed at a trashcan lid, clenching her teeth as she felt the blade slash her palm. With a powerful swing, she slammed the lid into Xiang's skull, freeing the blade from her grasp. Blood trickled down her face as she struck her again.

Xiang swayed, falling to the ground. Alex freed herself and pinned Xiang down. Her hands smashed Xiang's face, each blow harder than the last. It was like she was hammering a rail spike into the ground. Then she went limp. There wasn't a need to continue, but the rush of violence suppressed her reason. It was survival, the only thing Alex knew how to do. Xiang's face was battered, bruised, and bloodied beyond recognition. That's enough. Alex forced herself to stop, but her hand remained clenched, shaking as if it wanted to continue. Why can't I control this urge? Her knuckles throbbed like a beating heart as she pried her fingers open.

Alex stumbled to her feet, keeping a watchful eye on Xiang. She closed her hand, but felt the searing pain from where the fresh gash formed. She opened and closed her palm with a grimace. Fuck that hurts! Blood trickled down her palm, splashing onto the ground. Alex tore her sleeve off and tied it rightly around her hand. Another scar for the story books.

She glanced back to where Shen was cowering. Much to her disappointment, he was still there. Ya had every chance to run, but you didn't. Alex grabbed her gun and aimed. He raised his hands to protect himself, whimpering. Watching him quiver brought her blood to a simmer. Her fingers squeezed the trigger. A bullet roared through the air, illuminating Shen's dismayed expression. A red mist sprayed the wall. His body slumped over onto the frigid ground, gazing at the night for the final time. It looked as if Shen was watching his memories become distant stars beyond his reach.

Thank God he's done with the sobbin'. Staring at his vacant body reminded Alex of how she used to hesitate pulling the trigger. Always used to look away. Could see the pain and regret in their eyes. They seemed so helpless. Over time though, she learned to love the feel of cold chrome in her hands, the smell of sulfur from the barrel, the musical chime of casings falling to the ground, and the sudden adrenaline surge through her veins, making her feel alive, indomitable. That and her surrogate family of nuns provided her with the proper training, and eventually, she learned to bury those thoughts.

She snatched the briefcase from Shen's limp hands. Turning around, Alex discovered that Xiang vanished, leaving only a bloody trail. She rubbed her forehead with the gun barrel. Maybe she found a nice dumpster to crawl into. She chased the naive thought away by shaking her head. That's just wishful thinkin'. Briefcase in hand, Alex staggered towards Woozie’s office.

The Golden Gate Bridge pierced the roving haze like hands clawing for freedom. The bleak waters below were a reflection of the storm brewing within Alex An untamed, destructive force of nature. She passed a group of Milly & Meryl insurance agents holding damage reports, their tablet screens flickering images of crushed cars and collapsed buildings. It was evidence of a GEHM skirmish. The first floor of an apartment building had a human indentation smashed into the exterior brick wall. Impact craters scarred the street, while nearby vehicles were crushed and twisted. They were reluctant participants in the melee.

As she walked, Shen's helpless voice crawled into her thoughts like an unwanted intruder. "Why me?" The echo of his empty pleas twisted her stomach, making every muscle tense with disgust. I used to think like that too. Back when I was weak and naive.

Even after over a decade, her memories of Toppanga were as raw as the gash on her hand. They served as reminders that even though wounds heel, they will bleed. Of all the places to wake up, it had to be Toppanga. She felt the blistering sand under her feet, heard the rhythmic pounding of the waves lapping against the shoreline, and felt a tranquil salty breeze touch her cheeks. I was alone with no memory other than my name. Those first nights were the worst. She remembered living in an alleyway littered with other orphans, where the twilight always seemed just out of reach. Kept looking to the sky for answers. Never heard a damn thing from them. Silence. That's what I got for bein' optimistic.

The wailing of forgotten children calling out to ghosts haunted her thoughts. A sound she'd like to bury. Used to cry myself to sleep until my eyes were swollen. Looked like someone punched me in my sleep. She felt a fire in her stomach - a burning sensation that reminded her of those nights. Had to accept the fact that no one cared. She envisioned herself sleeping on the ground, decorated with grime, scrapes, and filth as her stomach clawed for nourishment. She felt the jagged stones she laid on twist in her body as she searched for comfort. It was me against the wolves, and they were always howlin'.

After a few weeks of waiting for a nonexistent hero, she felt a spark, an eruption that fueled her resolve. I refused to be another abandoned kid torturin' themselves with naive bullshit hope. She squeezed her palms. They gave up! I chose to live! I tried to help them, but they wouldn't do anything! She vividly remembered their forlorn faces. There was no hope flickering in their eyes. It was like staring at the bottom of a well not knowing how deep it went. That's what pisses me off the most. Thank God Mother Gaile gave me a fightin' chance. The memory of a patient hand stroked her cheek. That's more than some got.

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She pushed through the narrow streets until she reached Chinatown, the night markets glowing in the distance. A massive red archway welcomed anyone who entered with bountiful pockets. Jade dragons stood as guardians, their scales and fire glowing under the glistening paper lanterns. The passing crowds bobbed like waves.

Her eyes noticed a crowd huddled around a statue, candles flickering in quiet remembrance. She squinted to read the plaque. March 26, 2023 – We won’t ever forget your names and sacrifices. A bitter memory that lived in infamy. A day where countless GEHMS - Genetically Evolved Human Mutation - died for no reason other than existing.

Her mouth curled into a sneer thinking about them. Andromeda. Sandstone. The March. It's hard to forget. She knew all of their names, the history, and the tragedies. It's like a bad tattoo you can't cover up. Alex quickly gazed at the statue. Damn, it gets old hearin' about ‘em. She couldn't read the names etched on the plaque. It's the same shit all the time. Heroes and villains beatin' the shit outta each other to prove a point about something.

Up the street, the neon lights of the Golden Koi melted over the night sky, luring in a crowd of restless bodies. Alex turned, watching as the lights revealed a mural obscured by shadows. A black figure stood with outstretched arms. One hand held the planet, the other cradled a glowing fire. Its eyes were like silver starlight watching from a distance. It was blacker than the depths of space. Yet, it glowed like the white sunlight of a total eclipse. She examined the painting with a snort. Andromeda. Thinking his name made her eyes roll. After twenty years of gettin' your ass kicked, you never learn, do ya?

The Golden Koi rose above the streets. The koi jumped out from its stream, flashing yellow letters. An anxious crowd looped around the street to get to the front door. Their impatient muttering and restless thoughts filled the brisk air.

Alex shuffled to the back of the line, lingering in the shadows. Her hand clumsily reached for a cigarette from her pocket, the lighter slipping in her bandaged hand. A bouncer walked down the growing line, clenching a tablet. Every person he passed, he swiped the screen, grabbed cards, and snatched money from impatient hands. He inched to the back of the line and glanced at Alex, noticing the briefcase in her hand. The bouncer didn't bother asking; it was an unspoken rule: If Alex Mercer shows up, let the boss know.

He spoke into his com and nodded. Some in line turned around. Alex stared at the ground, clutching her wrist. She felt their eyes scrutinizing her. She was covered in blood, bruised, and disheveled. She could hear the scorn in their voices judging her, calling her an animal. The bouncer cleared his throat with a raspy cough, fixing his waistband. A quick flash of his holster, and the crowd whipped their heads around. Snickering, Alex walked to the back entrance.

Around the corner, Alex saw the familiar faces of two guards standing by the back door. One was puffing away on a cigarette, the other scrolling on his phone. The guard smoking flicked his cigarette into the trashcans when Alex approached. She turned her head, gaze fixated on the other guard. He fell silent, turned off his phone, and slid it into his pocket. “Oh, sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt,” she snidely said. His head slowly turned as he clutched his broken arm.

“Mercer, leave Tao alone. I think he learned his lesson from your last visit.”

Tao nodded, avoiding her gaze, his arm in a sling. Alex's shadow consumed him as he squirmed nervously.

“Oh, I’m sure he did, Winston." She glared at Tao. "Little shit's like him think power comes from a gun and a cheap suit." She dug he fingernails into her forehead, eyes seething with disgust. "Beatin' some sex worker trynna survive in this world is about as low as it gets." Her eyes drilled into his skull, to remind him of what real power is. She could almost see the fear behind his eyes, from how he hesitated to look at her to the way he trembled.

Winston grunted, rubbing his forehead. “That tongue of yours is like a scalpel - it's precise and cuts deep.” He noticed the briefcase. “Anyway, Laobon's expecting you upstairs.” He held out his hand. “Give it up.”

Reluctantly, she reached for her holster with a disgruntled sigh. “That hurts, Winston Where's the trust?" He stroked his furrowed brows. "Fine. Here.” Winston slid the gun into his coat. He glanced at Tao and then pounded the door. The slit whisked open and Tao whispered. Locks turned, and the door swung open. He quickly stepped out of the way, clutching his sling.

Winston guided Alex through the kitchen to the stairs leading to Woozie’s office. Going up, she shadowed his every footstep until they reached wide double doors. They were stained black with gold emblems. Engraved in the precious metal was an animal – a black tortoise. Outside his office, she overheard Woozie's muffled shouting. “I’m growing tired of your constant impudence and mistakes. Do you hear me? Do you know what happened to the last person in your position that made me wait?” Winston rolled his eyes, silently opening the door as if not to be the newest conduit for his bosses' fury.

Woozie paced by the windows, phone pressed to his ear. “Hmm! Mr. Sun paid them a visit." He turned and saw her, gesturing to the empty seat across his desk. “We all know what happens when Mr. Sun shows up. So you…” Alex plopped herself in the chair. “Good. It’s about time we came to a mutual understanding." He rubbed his forehead with a groan. "I expect the payment to be in full and delivered to my courier in twenty-four hours.” He tossed his phone on the desk and sat down. A heavy, irritable sigh escaped his scrunched lips. “At least you're someone I can depend on." He ran his hand through his hair as if looking for a strand out of place. The windows rattled from the music, pounding like an anxious heart. Woozie quickly glanced at them, fingers drumming his desk in tandem with each note.

Alex spun around in the chair as a smirk yanked her lips. "That's because I'm not like the useless dregs ya have on payroll." Her tone was playful, but hiding her bite.

Woozie's face flickered as he sparked his lighter, the flames trembling as he lit a cigarette. He inhaled deeply, the shadows on his eyes remained. Black-tinted sunglasses rested on the edge of his nose. His black turtleneck made him appear to anticipate another funeral. "True enough,” he huffed, staring at the ceiling. “But they're not like you.” He leaned back in his chair. "You don't give me migraines."

"I could, but that's bad for business."

"Please don't." He groaned at the thought. "Nianyu's been demanding more money to repay the Fry-Face."

Alex grinned impishly, her lips curled. "Don't look so sad." Woozie turned his head. "It's not every day ya get your asses beat in a turf war.

She watched his annoyance twist into disdain like a knife wedged in his stomach. “Can't believe Nianyu kowtowed to her every demand." He snuffed his cigarette in an ashtray slowly. "We lost so much territory because of Senora Fry-Face." Even when insulting his competition, Woozie somehow maintained a veneer of passive aggressive professionalism.

Alex turned, concealing a grin. Don't be so shy about it. Never saw so someone get beat like the triads did. She raised an eyebrow. That's why you don't fuck with the Colombians. Azucena doesn't forget shit like that.

The door creaked open, a hostess balancing a tray. "Care for some huangjiu?" Woozie asked, pouring without waiting for a response. He slid the glass forward and Alex grabbed it.

She stared into the glass, licking her lips. Can’t say no to that? She pressed the glass to her eager mouth, letting the sweet, mellow liquid run down her throat. Emptying the glass, she looked down at the floor, finally noticing the briefcase. “Almost forgot this.” Placing the briefcase on his desk, she slid it forward. Woozie carefully inspected it. “Did you know Xiang was hired for the same job?.” He shook his head, Disregarding her complaint. Saying her name made Alex’s hands curl. "Christ, she pisses me off." Her voice was a low growl. "Just wanna wrap my hands around her throat til I'm the last thing she sees." She raised her hands, mimicking a strangling motion.

“Shen's dead. Who cares?." Woozie pulled the briefcase closer.

She slumped in her seat, waving her hand dismissively. "You wouldn't understand.” Digging around her pocket, she pulled out a cigarette and lighter, sparking a dim wispy flame. The pungent taste of nicotine soothed her tense nerves.

Woozie reached into a desk drawer, retrieved a spare key, turned the briefcase's lock, and popped it open. He pulled out crisp green stacks and placed them on the table, quietly counting each one, listening to each bill flap in his ears. “As expected, you didn’t let me down.” He pushed some money off to the side. “I also heard of a certain Red Pole getting killed. Found shot to death in the Lemon Grass’s kitchen.” A grim smile crept across his lips. "My father always told me competition was healthy. That it builds character, but his limited wisdom never accounted for the murder of my competitors."

“Yeah. Funny how things work out when you least expect them to,” Alex replied, twisting the cigarette in the ashtray.

He leaned over his desk, his voice hushed. “I'll be adding a bonus with your standard fee. Fifty-thousand with an additional seventy-five." Woozie didn't have to grin, Alex saw his eyes shimmer. Reaching under his desk, he pulled out a duffle bag and swept the money in with an outstretched arm. “Consider this a small token of appreciation for your continued service.” The bag dropped to the floor like a sinking stone.

Alex unzipped the bag, eyes wide with disbelief. “This is way too much… I only need what I need.” What did Mother Gaile used to say? 'Greedy hands are always the bloodiest.'

She slung the bag over her shoulder and rose. As she turned, Woozie tapped his desk. “Oh, before I forget." Alex turned to listen. "There’s something that I thought you might be interested in.” Her ears pricked up like an excited dog. “I don’t know if you’ve heard about this, but I’ll fill you in on a contract driving the freelancers wild over the past few months. I think his name is Maximillian Roivas, and he’s got a billion-dollar contract out on his head. Sounds ludicrous, I know.”

“Bullshit! A billion dollars for one person? Alex nearly laughed at the thought. "What’s the catch? There’s always some sorta catch with contracts worth this much.” Even she knew the asking price was absurd. Only idiots with a death wish and visions of swimming in golden lakes accepted those jobs. And most of the time, their names were forgotten within weeks.

“I'm not privy to the details," Woozie answered.

“So this Roivas guy’s nothin’ more than a ghost story?" She waved her hand dismissively. "I'm better off convincin' Katrina that the bible can be used for more than a target to demonstrate the guns she's selling."

Again she turned to leave, but Woozie's voice compelled her to listen. “While you were out stalking Shen, someone kept coming by the club." Alex's eyes lowered the more he spoke. "He kept asking anyone if they’d seen or heard about some woman: Scarlet hair. Emerald eyes. Scars. Tattoos. Explosive attitude." She gripped the shoulder strap, twisting the fabric to calm herself. "I couldn’t have him tarnishing my reputation as a local businessman by waving a picture of a freelancer in everyone’s faces. Winston threw him out a couple of times, but he always returned. More persistent the last visit.”

“Is this story goin’ anywhere?” A yawn escaped her lips, hiding her growing irritation.

Woozie tugged his collar, clearing his throat. “I asked Winston to bring him up here for a discussion. Apparently, he wants to hire you for this exact contract." He lit a cigarette, letting the bitter smoke slap her face. "I don’t know what you did to attract his unwanted attention, but he was very adamant that he find you."

“Thanks for the heads up." She turned, greeting the door with a sneer.

“Just make sure to keep him away from my establishment," Woozie said, finishing his cigarette. He rose from his seat and wrapped his arm around Alex's shoulders to escort her to the bottom of the stairs. With a gracious bow, he returned to his office

While walking home, Alex couldn’t chase the thought away as she drifted through the crowds. What the hell did I do to have some asshole come lookin’ for me? Who did I piss off? She grit her teeth, knuckles tightening at the idea. This is what I get for havin' a reputation. This is what happens when ya kill people for a livin'.They don't like to get their hands bloody. So, they tell a wild dog to go kill.

Being a freelancer is a double-edged blade. Your name is a badge that proves your reliability. Having a gun is just added insurance. However, it also reveals that - for the right price - you're willing to take on any job. That means anyone can force their problems onto you expecting a swift resolution. That's not the case for most freelancers. Many choose this illicit profession for the glory, the thrill, or the potential riches. But you won't remember them for long. A bullet has their name engraved on it, unlike a headstone.

That may be the case for the majority, for Alex, freelancing is survival. If someone has to catch a bullet, give her a name and a few days. It's the only thing she knows. But even she has her limits. Accepting this contract would require a different price - one that meant sacrificing whatever sliver of humanity she desperately clung to.