“Here? Really?”

June looked up at the scrap, towering over them in heaps. A corrugated iron gate stood before them, flanked on either side by chain link topped with razor wire. “It’s a good place to make a stand.”

Sasha gave her a disbelieving look and crossed his arm across his hurt arm. “If you say so.”

“Strider, you in?” she shouted at the wall.

Silence. June tapped her foot, impatient. Sasha stared straight ahead, eyes blank.

“Alright, kid, kick the door down,” June said, nodding at the gate.

Sasha glanced at her, then backed up a few steps. He stretched, then dug his heels in, bracing himself in a running stance. He sized up the gate, then lowered his head, braced his good shoulder, and charged.

“Wait, wait, wait! I’m coming, I’m coming!” Strider shouted through a weathered speaker.

Sasha dug in his feet and skidded to a stop. His shoulder gently touched the gate. It rattled, the only sound in the quiet.

A chain caught on the far side, and the gate creaked to the side. Strider stood to the left of the gate, finger on the lever. “What’s so urgent right now, huh?”

June grinned. “A sale, first off. Secondly, where’s everyone? Don’t tell me you’re jumping ship, too?”

Strider shrugged. He turned and led the way into the compound. “I’m just saying, the Industrial Pits are starting to look a lot more friendly, you read my gist? Everyone else has seen the writing on the wall. It was a nice run being king of this little scrap heap, but there’s no one on this Block that can stand up to Laredo.”

“We’ll see about that.” June crossed her arms.

Strider raised his eyebrows. “Well, good luck to ya, but don’t count on me. I’ll make you your sale, but then I’m locking this place down.”

“Can we stay here overnight?” June asked.

“Overnight? Don’t tell me,” Strider grumbled, rubbing his brow. He pushed the blue tarp out of his way and ducked into the hut.

“What’s there to lose, Strider? You’re abandoning the heap anyways. Worst case, it was going to get destroyed anyways.”

He shot her a glare. “If someone puts up resistance in my heap, you think I won’t get blamed?”

“You won’t.”

“How can you be so sure?” he snapped.

June shrugged.

Strider stared at her a moment longer, then sighed and scrubbed his scalp. “Alright. Fine. Is that the sale?”

“Nah. Looking for that machine gun drone you were talking about before,” June said.

“And? You’ve got credits?”

“Info,” June replied.

He nodded and beckoned idly with a free hand. “Let me hear it.”

“Laredo’s partnering with Seirios Labs. Not only that, but listen: the labs themselves are a front. Supposedly, they do high-end harness, but they really develop high-tech combat harness.”

“That’s it?” Strider asked, skeptical.

“I’m talking off-planet kind of high-tech. Dangerous high-tech. The kind of high-tech where they brainwash the people wearing the harness into killing machines loyal only to Seirios Labs—”

Strider put his hands up. “Alright, alright, Miss Conspiracy. Let’s not dip into crazy territory.”

June rolled her eyes. “My point is, this isn’t some company piddling around in the dark. Credits to chips they’re backed by an Asteri, or maybe a coalition of those assholes. What they’re doing all this for, As—hell knows. You know the Asteri. Always trying to pull some kind of political maneuvering bullshit. All the better if it fucks over us normal humans.”

Strider sighed, then shrugged. “Eh, good enough. Lotta bullshit and nonsense, but it’s still better than I usually get from you.”

He foraged around in a bin, then tossed her a short cylinder, one end bristling with metal connections. “Port that in the back of your head, and it’ll come to life. Recommend you practice a bit before you run it in combat, she can be a bit… unsettling to the stomach. Not the steadiest ride.”

June nodded and pocketed it. “No worries. I’ve piloted before.”

Strider snorted and started to walk away. “I’m gonna keep packing. You two make yourselves comfortable in here. Asteri know I won’t be needing this tent again.”

Sasha backed away a step as he passed and clapped a hand to his mouth.

Strider frowned. He leaned in. “Something the matter, kid?”

Sasha shook his head. His face went pale.

“If you’ve got something to say, spit it out.”

Obediently, Sasha opened his mouth and vomited all over Strider.

Strider staggered back, eyes wide. He brushed at the vomit on his shirt. “Gross! What the hell, kid!”

Sasha spat up another mouthful and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Defiant eyes blazed at Strider, daring him to do something.

June abruptly remembered the forager they’d seen the previous day, the way Strider had slapped them and how tense Sasha had gone. She sighed. “I shouldn’t have let you eat the chips ‘n such.”

“This is maggot? Maggot vomit?” Strider’s face went red. A vein throbbed in his forehead. He raised his hand.

Sasha’s eyes glittered.

Lunging across the room, June caught Strider’s hand centimeters from Sasha’s face. She glared down at him. “Don’t hit other people’s kids.”

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Strider fought her grip. Underneath the goggles, his eyes bulged, showing red veins. “Get—”

Abruptly, he stopped. He yanked his hand free and stomped away with a grimace. “Not worth it.”

Sasha’s poker face changed subtly, a smug grin leaking out for just a moment. June shot him a warning look. Did you really happen to get sick just then? Was it an accident, or…?

The smug air vanished. He turned innocent puppy eyes on her, even going so far as to tremble a little. “I’m sick.”

“You’re not sick, you just ate something you aren’t supposed to.” She fished around in her bag. Tooly had given her some goo, somewhere down in here…

Strider left the hut. The blue tarp slapped back into place.

“I’m not yours,” Sasha muttered, low and sharp.

June shrugged, unperturbed, and kept digging. “I suppose you’re right. You don’t belong to anyone but yourself. But you know, kid, sometimes it’s not so bad to be someone’s.”

Sasha’s eyes flashed. “Never.”

“Are you going to pay me for this, then? Because, you know, I got it for my friend.” She pointed the silvery packet of goo at him. “But if you aren’t mine…”

He glanced at it and made a face. “Who wants that? That stuff tastes nasty.”

She gave him a look. “It’s the only stuff you can digest.”

“It’s disgusting. Let’s go get some more food from one of the street stalls.”

“You puked it up last time, do you think it’ll be different this time?” June rolled her eyes.

His eyes shone with pride. “I managed to choke it back down twice, and I didn’t try the third time. Next time, I’ll be able to hold it down at least four times.”

“Don’t do that. It’s bad for you,” June snapped, lightly smacking his good shoulder with the goo packet. What are you, a dog? What kind of person swallows their own vomit that many times? Then her eyes narrowed. You did vomit on purpose.

Sasha pressed his lips together, unwilling to concede.

She caught his hand and put the goo sack into it. “Anyways, it’s not up for debate. Eat this. I’ll let it slide this time, even if you don’t want to be my friend.”

He sighed, but took the packet. He started to put it into a pocket, but when June glared at him, reluctantly peeled a corner open and sucked at the goo inside. He made a face. “Gross.”

“Glad to hear it.”

Sasha stuck his tongue out at her, then nodded toward the back of the hut, where Strider had disappeared. “He’s suspicious.”

“How so?”

As if it was obvious, Sasha clicked his tongue. “Earlier, he wouldn’t share gossip without payment, but now, for that tiny piece of bullshi—” He caught June’s glare and pursed his lips. “—information, he not only gives you the drone, but also practically hands you the scrap heap for free? Doesn’t even try to haggle? It’s suspicious.”

June stared at him in amazement.

“What?” Sasha demanded.

“I think that’s the most I’ve heard you say at one time,” June breathed.

Sasha scowled. “Fuck off.”

She laughed and shook her head. “No, no. I understand. Although he acts like that usually, deep down, Strider’s a good man. He’s willing to let us slide a bit because we’re going to make a stand to protect this Block. And hey, he’s going to leave anyways. Scrapheap won’t be worth anything to him if Laredo bulldozes it.”

Disbelief was written all over Sasha’s face. He turned away and muttered, “Wasn’t like that gossip was worth anything to him, either.”

June scruffed his hair. He ducked away, a moment too late. “Have some faith in other people, will ya? We aren’t all villains.”

He shook his head and stalked off, out of the tent.

June sighed. Guess it’s too early for that.

The afternoon bled into evening, and the evening bled into night. June wandered the scrapheap, familiarizing herself with the lay of the land, the pitfalls and the rickety towers, the bigger pieces that she could take cover behind. Occasionally, she caught sight of Sasha, brows slightly furrowed, lips pursed in a sulky frown, as he wandered over the tops of the heaps. Every time he noticed her, he vanished behind the scrap before she could call out to him.

After the third time he ran away, she put her hands on her hips. “Quit throwing a tantrum and come help me.”

Scrap rattled down a nearby pile. Sasha startled out of the scrap and ran for it, white shirt flapping.

“Change those dirty clothes, at least!” she shouted after him as he vanished.

June wandered the scrap at random. Before she knew it, the sun had begun to set. As she walked, she craned her neck to watch it fall and light the horizon in pinks and oranges. One of her feet made solid contact with an empty can, and it rolled away, up over a little bump, then vanished, plink-plinking for longer than she’d expected. June furrowed her brows and glanced down, to find a deep pit yawning before her. Startled, she staggered to a halt and threw her arms out wide. Her weight swung forward, out over the hole. For a long moment, she stared down into the darkness, nothing to grab onto, only sharp tines of metal sticking up at her from deep down below.

Arms pinwheeling, she threw her whole body backward and plopped onto her butt, heart pounding. Sweat dripped down her back and forehead, stinging in her eyes. June wiped her brow, then sighed. Guess it’s time to go back.

The tarp hut leaked light through its seams, the only bright spot in the scrap heap. June hurried the last few meters there, stumbling over the scrap in her haste. A thin line of smoke wafted out of one of the top seams. As she lifted the flap, a delicious, savory smell filled her nose.

“Wow, what’s that?” June asked.

“Rat. Not a fucking bug, in other words,” Strider grumbled. He flipped meat on a small brazier in the back. Fat glittered on the roasted surface, golden and hissing hot.

She raised her eyebrows at him and sat near the fire. “Thought you’d be gone by now.”

He snorted. “I’ll leave in the morning. Got too much to pack up.”

“Where were you today, anyways?”

“In the back, where my car is,” he muttered. He tipped his head at her. “Where’s your kid?”

“According to him, he’s not my kid.” She sighed, eyes on the meat.

Strider glanced at her. Firelight flashed off his massive goggles. “The Block is a dangerous place. Aren’t you worried he might get kidnapped?”

“Good luck to the kidnappers,” she quipped dryly.

The flap snapped open. Sasha stepped inside. He glanced at the meat and licked his lips.

“No, kiddo. Where’s your goo? Finish your goo.”

He scowled and slumped down in the corner, arms crossed.

“Why not? There’s plenty for everyone,” Strider offered.

Sasha sat forward slightly, hopeful.

“He can’t digest it. He’ll vomit it up.”

Strider’s expression darkened at the memory. “Yeah. What is it, an allergy?”

June glanced at Sasha. She hesitated, then shrugged mentally. What was Strider going to do about it? Report it? Hardly. “Full harness. He doesn’t have a complete digestive tract. Can’t handle most food.”

Strider stared at the meat for a few seconds, then shrugged. “More for us.” He pulled a pair of tongs out of a nearby bucket and transferred the cooked meat to a pair of plates. When they were full, he held one out to June.

“Thanks.” June took one with a smile.

“Ah, right. Can’t eat rat without hot sauce. Want some?” Strider fished around in the bucket and pulled out a bottle full of a thick red sauce.

“Please,” June said. She took the bottle and doused the meat, then handed it back to Strider.

He held up his own bottle with a grin. “Keep it. You might need more.”

“So, the Industrial Pits? Think you can make it big there?” June asked.

Strider shifted, then shrugged. “Eh. The scraplords’ll make my life shit for a while, but I’ve fought my way up before. I’ll do it again.”

June took a bite. Juicy meat, charred perfectly, met savory, spicy sauce. The sauce had an odd bitterness to it she couldn’t quite place, but the spice was so strong she wasn’t bothered. Probably the same chemical bullshit they put in all the processed foods around here. “Going to make it as a scraplord, then?”

“If all goes well.” Strider’s eyes glittered.

“Well, good luck to you.”

Abruptly, Strider stood. He clacked over the scrap to a corner of the tent and rifled through the junk piled there. “I know it’s somewhere over here…”

“Eh? Need help?” June started to rise.

Halfway up, her eyes went blurry and the world wobbled. Pain throbbed in her skull, a nebulous ache that sloshed around with her. She pressed a hand to her forehead. “What the…”

Sasha darted to his feet.

“Kid, catch!” Strider shouted urgently. A small metal disk glittered in the air, a green glass orb shining in its center.

No, don’t! The words fell apart on June’s tongue. Her eyes flickered shut. Weakness rushed through her body, turning her muscles to mush.

Instinctively, Sasha reached out for the disk. Just as it met his fingertips, a wave of green light burst from its center. His eyes went dim, and he crashed to the ground.

She fought her way to him. Even as her vision narrowed to dim tunnels, even though her body wanted nothing more than to relax and sleep. His hand laid on the ground, so close. She reached out. Her fingers trembled. So heavy. Her arm sagged to the ground. A little further.

A metal talon slammed down on her arm and pinned it to the scrap. Strider leaned down. He caught her eye and chuckled. “Did you think I didn’t know about your bounty? Forget the Pits. I’ll be living like a king in the High City with the price on your head, Sole Survivor!”

He drew back his other leg. The last thing June saw was metal, rushing at her. There was an almighty crack, and the whole world went dark.