The man shuffles to the counter, leaning heavily on his crutch. He smiles at me, but it widens that much further when he looks at Dani. He opens his mouth to speak, but Dani raises a finger to their lips, shaking their head. The message is clear to anyone with a brain: Don’t speak.

Dani jerks a thumb towards the back office, where Frank has retreated for his morning break, and signs to him. Boss in the back.

He nods in understanding and gives his silent reply. Could I have some water, please? His hands move much slower, shaking a little.

Dani moves closer and elbows me in the side, motioning to the steel serving jug.

I shake my head and sign, my hands a flurry of anxiety. No. No. I can’t get tangled up in this. I promised my brother.

They frown and jerk their chin at the jug. Come on. Serve the man.

The delicious fire in my belly has gone out—extinguished by ice blue eyes. I grasp the handle of the jug, hands trembling, and fill it slowly with purified water.

I swirl it around, airing it, and pour it into a cup. Dani points to a pump under the counter. ‘Blessed’.

The cheat sheet sits on the edge of the shelf, poking out just enough to read the scrawled notes on each syrup. This short note is faded, covered in stains, but I can make some of it out.

‘A mixture of Luck and Bliss, this blend ensures a smooth day for the patron.’

Water alone would be bad enough, but this is a whole other level. I’ll go to reform for sure. I shake my head again, more vigorously this time. No, Dani, please. Don’t make me.

Dani tuts and rolls their eyes, smiling at the man. He watches us with curious interest, as if we are a pantomime rehearsing just for him, an audience of one.

I squat down—partly just to get away from those curious eyes—and move the cup slowly towards the syrup bottle. At the same time, my other hand moves up to the button on the counter. Dani isnt watching, instead signing frantically to the man. I pause and watch for a moment, catching a few phrases, one hand over the button, the other holding the cup under the syrup bottles.

“They’re new, they haven’t learned… I promise this won’t be a problem… I’m doing everything I can to help…”

“No, it’s appreciated… you do so much… could never thank you…”

My breath is coming fast and shallow. I’m torn—on the one hand it feels like this man is harmless, and Dani isn’t shy about getting close and personal with him. But he’s diseased—all the Abandoned are. The alleyways and sewers of Skycross are a cesspit of bacteria and viruses, we have to keep away from them.

If I did this… If someone found out… I wince at Cal’s warning echoing in my mind. I have to make a choice.

The fiery courage burns in my stomach once more. I take a deep breath, flip the cover and press the button.

Steel shutters slam down all around us, blocking the windows and dropping the cafe into darkness. Frank runs in from the office, his face bright red, eyes darting about till he catches sight of the man looking terrified in front of the counter.

Dani scowls and shakes their head at me, holding up their hands in surrender and backing away from the counter.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

But let them scowl. This was the right choice. It was the only choice. I place the cup on the shelf and follow suit. Hands up, back away. Just wait.

Frank takes the space in front of us and faces the Abandoned across the counter. Looking over his shoulder, I see the man give a sad smile.

“You, stay there, y’hear?” Frank’s voice quivers—annoyance? Fear? “The wardens are comin’ for you, and there ain’t nothin we can do about that, but we’re going to be nice and civil and see this through like humans.”

I frown. Like humans? What else could he be? This seems harsh, even knowing what I do about them. The Abandoned may be diseased, downtrodden, but they’re still human.

The man sags, casting his eyes to the ground, and drops his broken crutch with a clatter. “Yes, yes I hear you.”

Frank stops breathing, leaning over the counter to get a better look. “…John? Is that you?”

He looks up and points those icy eyes at Frank, the wrinkles sad and downturned, pathetic, forlorn, pitiful. His forehead creases further. “…Frank?”

“Everyone put your hands up in the air right now! Right now!” A bellow from the street invades the cafe, and we hear the warden’s weapons before we see them—an electric pulse which pierces my ears, throbbing in my temples and threatening to explode my skull.

Frank, Dani and I shrink right back against the foliage wall, as far away from the counter as we can get, and duck our heads to protect ourselves, covering our ears. John, old and feeble as he is, struggles to stretch his hands up. He tries, but his arms won’t let him—like they won’t, or cant, bend that way.

The wardens shout from outside. “Higher! Now!”

John’s hands tremble as he struggles to stretch upward.

One warden comes inside, weapon first. Their long multi-barrelled rifles always terrify me. They’re dressed all in black, from their helmet’s tinted visor down to their boots. I imagine they have bulletproofing under every inch of fabric.

They point their gun at the nape of John’s neck, almost touching him. The electricity courses along it in waves, travelling, bright blue, down the barrel. “Do I have to tell you again?”

John whimpers, sinking to his knees.

The piercing pain in my eardrums pulses more with each wave of energy from the warden’s gun. I have no idea what to do, where to look, what to say.

Frank decides for me. “Officer, there’s been a misunderstanding—“

“Shut your mouth, Frank.” The warden spits, and Frank falls silent, staying in front of me and Dani, shielding us.

The second warden calls in. “Officer Harding, any trouble?”

Harding puts his gun against John’s head and pulls the trigger. A shockwave emerges like a virtual net, enveloping his frail body, making him jerk in place like a ragdoll. It can’t last more than a few seconds, but it drags on forever.

I can’t tear my eyes away from the sight.

I did this.

John falls to the floor face-first, and Harding puts his boot on his shoulder as if he’s a hunted trophy. “No trouble.” He shouts in reply, and disarms the gun.

Silence descends over us all. Me, cowering against the wall of foliage, with Dani scowling at me on my right, and Frank guarding us both. I notice his fists are balled tightly at his sides, shaking.

“Alright, Frank,” Harding shoulders his rifle and walks towards to counter. He’s suddenly relaxed, as if he’s just here to order a drink. “What happened here?”

He flicks up his visor, and I get my first real look at a warden’s face.

He looks so normal. Too normal—a bulbous nose, ruddy cheeks, stubble starting to sprout from his cheeks. If it weren’t for the uniform, I probably wouldn’t look twice at him on the street.

Frank stands and squares his shoulders. “Like I said, misunderstanding.”

“This one’s exiled, for sure,” Harding nods at John’s unconscious form. “What’s it coming in here for?”

“I don’t know, I was in the back.”

“So which one of your staff was serving?” Harding peers down at me and Dani. I shrink back further. If I could make myself a mouse right now and scurry away, I would jump at the chance. The Courage is still swirling in my stomach, but it’s doing nothing to persuade me to speak up.

Frank shrugs. “Does it matter? They did their job.”

“That they did.” Harding smiles approvingly at us both. I resist the urge to throw up.

Meanwhile, the other office has entered the cafe, and is standing over John. “Gimme a hand with this thing, Harding.”

Harding salutes Frank and flips his visor down to cover his face again. “We’ll be back tomorrow. Make sure you’re all here. Nine am.”

They carry John from the cafe, and Melly resets to service mode upon their exit.

“Thank you for your patronage.” She singsongs over the tannoy.

The steel barriers roll up, and I squint as the bright sunlight streams through the windows.

“Which one of you sounded the alarms?” Frank asked, still keeping his back turned to us. Is he mad?

Dani huffs a sigh. “Me. I did it.”