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12.0. Mess

Downtown was a mess.

Cars roared down the streets, packed with belongings. Passerby stuck out their thumbs or threw themselves at the sides of trucks, grabbing on desperately wherever they landed, scrabbling for the roofs, clutching to the rear. Some walked, some ran, all laden with bags, much like June and Sasha.

June stared. She glanced around, then grabbed the nearest passerby as they jogged for a truck. “What’s going on?”

The man yanked his shirt free and jumped onto the truck as it passed. As it roared off into the distance, he thumbed up at the billboards high above.

Every billboard blazed red. White text blared out, Block Demolition Imminent. Area Unsafe. Evacuate Now.

June blinked. Guess Arelia wasn’t kidding. She nodded at Sasha. “C’mon. We aren’t giving up that easily.”

“Why not?”

She snorted. “A long time ago, I promised myself I wouldn’t let some bastard like Laredo destroy anyone’s home ever again. If no one will stand for this Block, I will.”

Sasha frowned. “But… everyone’s leaving.”

“Not everyone. Some people can’t. Some people won’t. There’s always someone left behind. This time, I won’t let them die.”

Brows furrowed, he stared at her uncomprehendingly. Abruptly, he shrugged. “Whatever.”

June laughed. “C’mon. Let’s go see if Marly’s got a bed or two for us.”

“Do we have to?”

Across the street, June ducked through the glowbeads. “Marly! How’s it—”

A man in a white suit kicked over a rack of clothes. Another tossed a trash can through a display case and sent jewelry flying. A third smashed the lights with an empty rack. Near the front of the shop, two identical bald men in dark clothes, black machinery crawling out from their high collars, turned like one being.

“Hello,” Marly squeaked from behind the counter.

A white-suited man held a gun to Marly’s temple. At the sight of June, he scowled. “You saw nothing. Turn around and leave.”

“I saw several things, actually,” June corrected him. She reached for her holster.

Guns clattered. The white-suited men whirled toward her, barrels leveled at her head.

“Touch that gun and die,” the man holding Marly hostage warned.

A black-and-silver streak rushed by her. June smirked. “Oh, I don’t have to.”

Sasha bounded up between the man and Marly, leading with a kick. The gun flew to the ceiling. Startled, the man scrambled to drag out a second gun, but too late. Sasha spun in midair and snapped out his other leg. Silver heel met jaw with a crack that made June wince. The man fell back, eyes rolled up.

For a second, everything was still. The white-suited men stared. The dark-clothed men stood frozen, eyes blank.

The gun reached the height of its arc and fell. Sasha stood, elegantly, and reached up. As if it had been made for this moment, the grip slotted neatly into his hand. He gazed down the sights at the white-suited men.

Marly dropped to the ground with a scream, and everything snapped back into motion.

Bullets flew, ricocheting off the tile floor and the steel clothing racks. June dove for the counter. She put her back to the counter wall and fired blindly behind her.

Sasha vaulted the counter and somersaulted into the racks. Clothes rustled all around where he vanished. The white-suited men whirled and shot wildly into the clothes. Racks sparked. Clothes went flying, shredded. One of the men cried out and grabbed his leg. Red dripped down his pants. He went down, unable to hold himself upright. A dagger flashed in the neck of a second one, Sasha there, suddenly, then gone, dagger vanishing with him. The other two men shot at him. Blood blossomed on their own man’s chest as the bullets slammed into him, but Sasha was long gone.

There was silence. The last two men in white stared at the clothes rack, tense.

“Don’t forget about me,” June called, and fired a shot at the nearest one.

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He stumbled forward and went down. The other man in white whirled. The second he turned his back to the clothes rack, Sasha emerged from the clothes behind him. Sasha grabbed his neck and sliced. The man fell, blood gushing from his throat.

The two men in black strode forward evenly, as if the other five men hadn’t been brutally murdered in front of them. One turned toward Sasha. The other turned toward June.

She leveled her gun and fired. Buckshot dug into the man’s chest and tore through his flesh. Blood splattered. His shoulder flung backward from the force of the shot.

The man turned his shoulder forward and continued to walk at her.

“Aim for the eyes,” Sasha advised her calmly.

She glanced at him. He backed through the clothes, dagger in his good arm, bad arm held to his side. The man gestured oddly. Blades flew from his hand and sliced the clothes around Sasha to ribbons. Sasha ducked, but one cut a line across his cheek, revealing thick silicone coating but no blood.

The other man raised his hands at her. June dropped below the counter. Blades phut-phuted into the wood one after another. She dropped to a knee by her bag and snatched out the shotgun ammo. Snapping her gun open, she popped two new shells in, then jammed a handful of shells into her pocket.

The man advanced steadily, unbothered by his torn shoulder. Black liquid ran down from the wounds. Metal bones and wires peeked through the larger holes.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” Marly whispered to herself. She hunkered against the wall, hands over her fluffy pink updo.

“Get out of here!” June snapped.

Marly jumped up and ran for the back room. Blades chased her, slashing the drapery to bits. On the far side, Marly yelped.

June fired again. The gun bucked in her arms. The man’s head snapped back, and he fell backwards with it.

Halfway down, the man caught himself. Deliberately, he straightened back up and raised his hand.

“Fuck,” June grumbled.

“The eyes,” Sasha reminded her. The sound of flying blades came from the direction of his voice.

“Yeah. Thanks, kid. I’m trying.”

The man walked forward. June ran for the far side of the desk, but he rounded the corner first. He raised both hands.

She whipped around and fired, point blank. Flesh blew off his face, revealing metal underneath. His hands flew up, and the blades blasted into the ceiling. He slowly righted himself.

June threw herself over the counter and crouched on the other side. The barrel was hot. She kicked out the spent shells and slotted two more in. Dammit, should’ve grabbed one of my other guns. Shotgun’s a pain in the ass.

A shadow fell over her. She glanced up. The man stared down at her with dead, dark eyes. He smirked and lifted his hand.

“Idiot.” June jabbed the shotgun up into the man’s eye and pulled the trigger.

The man slumped forward. Blood and gore poured down from his eye. He shuddered and heaved one last sigh, then fell still.

June climbed to her feet. She pulled her blood-soaked shirt out from her. “Eugh, gross.”

Across the room, the other man fell down. Sasha yanked the dagger from his eye and wiped it on the nearest clothes rack.

“What were those things?” June asked. That’s not Regis’ usual. Everyone knows Laredo hates harnesses, let alone full harness.

“Training dummies,” Sasha said. He passed her and pulled the blades out of the edge of the counter. Carefully, he tucked each one into the bandage around his bad arm.

“Training… dummies?” June asked. Her brows furrowed deeper.

Sasha nodded. “They’re clunky and slow, but they can take a beating. They aren’t usually sent out, since they’re useful. These ones must have been decommissioned.”

“They’re from Seirios Labs?”

Sasha whirled on her, eyes narrowed.

June put her hands up. “I did some research, alright? It was a guess, only a guess.”

He shook his head and plucked another blade.

Marly peeked out from the back room. “Did you kick their butts?”

“Yeah, we did. Marly, can I borrow a shirt?” June asked.

“You did just save my life,” Marly said, gesturing dramatically.

“Thanks.” June stripped out of her shirt and threw the bloodied clothing on the ground.

“June!” Marly gasped. She ran over and covered Sasha’s eyes.

June frowned at her, already pulling a new shirt on. “I have a jog bra on, you know.”

Sasha pushed Marly’s hands off his face and stared up at her, confused.

“They’re at a delicate age. What if you traumatize them? Poor kid,” Marly sighed. She moved to block his vision again.

Sasha tipped his head. “Traumatize me how?”

“Be a good kid and don’t look.”

“Why? She’s not even naked,” he said, brows furrowed.

“Exactly.” Shirt firmly in place, June picked up her bag and slung it over her shoulder. “C’mon, Sasha. Let’s get a move on. And Marly… you should probably go.”

Marly shook her head. “That’s what those men were telling me. I’ll tell you the same: I won’t go. This is my home. My shop. I’ll defend it to the last.”

“There’s blood spilled now. If they find out someone was killed in your shop while you were here, they won’t let you go. Get out of here, Marly. I’ll take the blame, but you have to go,” June said.

Marly furrowed her brows in disagreement. “I’m not going to get out of their way so they can steamroll the Block.”

“No one’s going to steamroll anything. I’ll stop them. Alone, if I have to.”

“That’s impossible.”

“It’s not impossible. And if it is, I’ll make it possible.”

Marly sighed. “When you say that, it almost sounds convincing.”

June knelt next to one of the bodies. Dipping her thumb in the blood, she scribbled a crude sun on the floor. With a deep breath, she slowly looked up. “Not my first time. I’ve been the sole survivor before. Ever heard of the Summer Massacre?”

“You—” Marly’s face contorted. She put a hand to her mouth and staggered back until she hit the counter.

A sad smirk crawled over June’s face. She wiped her hand on the man’s shirt and stood. “Get outta here, Marly.”

Marly ran for the door.

June watched her go. The smirk vanished. She stared after Marly. Her face didn’t change, but there was a deep sorrow in her eyes.

“Are you really that scary?”

She turned, grinning wryly. “Wanna try me?”

Sasha popped out of the clothes, unimpressed. “I wouldn’t even have to try.”

June reached to scruff his hair, but he ducked her hand. “C’mon, let’s get a move on. We shouldn’t stay here, either.”

“Mmm.” He picked up his bag and looked up at her.

“Go put some shoes on before we leave. I don’t care how harnessed your feet are, you’re going to want them where we’re going.”

“Where are we going?”

She snorted. “A friend’s place.”