I yanked on the kei truck’s parking brake and hopped out, my boots crunching on the gravel. The headlight beams illuminated sections of dense and tangled treeline before cutting out. I’d stopped at the same empty lot where our expedition had entered the park, where Pengyi and I had agreed to meet. We’d decided on ten in the morning, but I was a little late. The reason was kind of embarrassing: I couldn’t decide what to wear. Too nice and I might make Pengyi feel underdressed, too casual and I’d be the one feeling like a slob. Finally I’d settled on black stretchy jeans, a plain work shirt, and a jacket with the Wiken Tool logo emblazoned on the back. I didn’t wear it often because I thought it was too colorful- which, considering it was already a deep, dark burgundy, probably said a lot about my taste in clothes.

Seemed I was the only one tardy. As soon as I settled in against the hood to wait, a stealthy figure emerged from the treeline. Their dark-green kit made them very hard to track as they darted through the tall grass and up the slope to meet me.

“Hi, Sharkie!” said Pengyi in their breathy whisper. They looked like they had the first time we’d met: maybe five-foot-five, their lithe figure covered head to toe in camo gear. A shotgun rode across their back on a rope sling, and a pair of auburn-furred, catlike ears poked through slits in their hood. Their face remained covered by a scarf, though they wore no greasepaint this time- above the balaclava were green, slit-pupiled eyes set in a swath of pale skin.

I put out my hand, smiling. “‘Sup, Pengyi! What’s going on?”

They shook before answering, grip firm. “Well, I am meeting you! Right?”

“It’s-it’s just an expression, it’s like asking someone ‘how are you?’ or something like that-“

They laughed with that wheezy shishishi sound I remembered from before. “Joking, Sharkie! I am doing fine. Met man of Six Lords Town other day, trade him for ammo with some rope. I make it from syavet’yw, is sort of blue vine- Oh! What happen with your eye?”

I cringed a little. “Bit of a story, there. I’ll tell you over food, how about that?”

“Shan fauy,” they said. “Yes, very good.”I opened the door for them and they hopped in, sticking the shotgun between the seats. I threw the thing into gear and floored it out of the parking lot- not that you’d notice, because as light as Pengyi was, the two of us were still straining the tiny motor. It wasn’t long before the two-stroke generator kicked on to charge the batteries, its whine filling the cabin.

“Svach’m!” exclaimed Pengyi. That was an especially foul curse, though I wasn’t sure of its exact meaning. “Is for always this loud?”

“Yeah, this is normal!” I shouted back. “Only a few minutes until we drop it off, though.” Soon enough we got back to my dad’s shop and I left the truck parked inside the fence- we didn’t have too far to walk and I didn’t want it getting stolen while we ate. The man himself was out installing a water-collection system, according to a note left on the door.

“That’s better, isn’t it?” I said to Pengyi as we stood outside, lit by the buzzing neon sign and not much else. The Pall was heavy today, the sky so lightless and black it looked solid. They nodded. “Why have at all, if is so annoying?”

“Good question. In fact...” I leaned a little closer. “Don’t tell anyone, but I’m thinking of buying my dad a real truck or something. It’ll be nice to do something for him for once.”

“Y-you can pay for it?” Pengyi asked, eyes wide. “Magne shan! Good gift.” “I hope so.”

“Mm. So where we are going?”

I’d put a bit of thought into this. As grimy a cesspit as it was, I still wanted to give Pengyi a good impression of D-block. “Figure we’ll get brunch at this place called Ferrous, take a walk down Boulevard of the Hyades and Pskova Street, go see Sunworld, and then, I dunno, get lunch maybe?”

They drummed gloved fingers on their chin, looking thoughtful. “Not know what most of this mean, but...Sunworld? This is ‘sun’ like peike? Big light in sky?”

“Yep! It’ll make more sense when we get there, promise.” In truth Sunworld was meant for a younger demographic, but I thought Pengyi might get a kick out of it. I hadn’t been in a while either, and I’d heard they’d renovated. “Shall we?”

“Fauy!”

—

Our route took us through the quiet streets of Livery, south toward Eleventh Ward. The lifelights were in good shape, but Pengyi walked with an almost comically tentative stride, eyes swiveling back and forth and giving every single passerby a wide berth. Most of them didn’t notice Pengyi back at all.

“Doing alright?” I asked.

“Yes. Very many people, though.”

“If it’s ever getting to be too much, just say so, right?” I didn’t mention that compared to places like Central or Port Town, Livery’s crowds might as well not exist.

“Sure, sure.” They edged carefully around a drunk sprawled across the sidewalk. “I good. Just different from normal.”

“I’ll bet.” I paused at an intersection to let a big diesel jingle-hack pull out, its stakebed full of bundled supplies and people. Spinning prayer wheels on its exhaust stacks fluted and squealed as the driver laid on the fuel.

“So, Six Lords Town, huh? You meet people from there much?” I asked as we got moving again. I was pretty curious, actually. SLT, along with the Scrapes and the Park, was one of the biggest dark zones in D-block- at least the size of a whole ward. Pengyi had seemed pretty solitary before, so I was wondering how much they saw other people.

In response I got a waggled hand. “Visi-vasi. Kind of. Is few I still know from there. Trade for supplies and things. Usually being alone is good.” Then they glanced up at me, eyes bright. “Other people fun sometimes too, though.”

I grinned and shook my head. “Kings, Pengyi. We haven’t even done anything yet. I-“ I cut myself off as we came round a bend and into view of the Edo Street overpass. It arched over the road on pillars of acid-streaked concrete at least twenty feet high, and hanging from the center of its span was a man’s body. The stark lights mounted below the bridge made the blood all over him look like tar. A length of razor wire was looped around his neck, and above it his face was smashed to a pulp. Secured to his chest with a couple big lag bolts was a sign, on which was one word in stenciled block capitals: RAPIST. Most people passed it without comment, glancing up just long enough to avoid any falling droplets.

“Aw, hell.” I muttered. These things weren’t too uncommon, but I still hadn’t expected it. “Not exactly making the place look good, am I?” I said to Pengyi, who seemed to be taking it in stride.

“R...rappist?” they muttered, squinting at the corpse. “Why this is done to him for making music?”

Despite things, I almost busted up laughing. “Uh, we usually say ‘rapper’ in that case. That says ‘rapist,’ which means-“

“Ooooh. Make much better sense now.” They nodded to themselves. “Much better. Who do this, by the way?”

“Mmm...” I squinted up at the corpse. The face was unrecognizable, but I thought I saw tattoos on one hand- tattoos like mine. “...The Holy Bones, if I had to guess. They like

Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!

razor wire.” They’d also be eager to self-police if one of their members had been committing acts like that. People got resentful if their supposed government set itself above its own laws.

“Ah. Poorly done job. In dark, we cut off man’s tool too. Or use hot irons, for woman. Not that we need do neither much.” This was delievered very matter-of-fact, as if critiquing the workmanship of some product they weren’t interested in buying.

“O-oh. Wow. I...I’ll let them know, I guess.” Pengyi nodded again, and we kept going. Another ten minutes or so and we arrived at Ferrous. Its façade was covered in carefully- patina’d iron, complete with spiky decorations and groined arches over the big, propped- open windows. The name was spelled out in polished block capitals, the only part not rusted. We headed in through the open door. The interior was industrial-chic, with rough brick walls and exposed ventilation ducts hung from the high ceiling. Reminded me a little of my apartment. Pengyi stuck close behind me as we went up to the host, a willowy man with almond-shaped eyes, mutant cyan skin, and a precisely-coiffed mountain of bleach-platinum hair on his head.

“Two, please,” I said. I didn’t have a reservation, but it was early enough the place wasn’t full yet.

The host gave us a practiced once-over. His eyes lingered on Pengyi’s kitted-up and masked form, but when he saw the tattoo on my hand he nodded politely and said, “Right this way.”

Damn, I thought as we wended back through small high-top tables and into a booth. Gotta make sure this doesn’t go to my head. I was shocked at the prestige the Holy Bones mark got me. Or maybe it was just the intimidation factor. The host took our drink orders- after a brief discussion with Pengyi, I got us both spicy vegetable juice- and departed, leaving us to look at the menu.

“So the whole thing here is that they don’t use arpaste,” I told Pengyi. “It’s all natural stuff. Real eggs, pork, lizard, monkey, local peppers and mushrooms and shit, smuggled grain...sometimes they even have chicken, I’ve heard.”

They leaned back on the wooden bench. “This is not...ah, what is word...yr’sih?”

“Usual? No. Most of the time you get a little meat or none at all. Eggs from powder, and everything else from a vat. A lot of the places around here are good at cooking it up so you almost forget it’s arpaste, though.”

They crossed their arms, though I detected a smile in their whispery voice. “So you bring me to special restaurant, eh? Very nice of you, Sharkie...”

My face got a little warm. “Well, I mean, you came to the trouble of coming out here, so I want to show you a good time. That’s all.”

“Mmh...question. I see him”- they glanced up front at the host- “look at me strange. Is mask, or gun, or the...” They waved a hand up at their ears.

“Well, it’s definitely not those. Plenty of stranger people around. He’s bright blue, for Kings’ sake.” Plenty of people carried long guns too, and others went with their faces covered. People who did both, though, were often up to no good. “I mean, if I had to guess it’s the gun and the mask together. Makes you look like a stick-up artist- a robber, I mean.”

“Ah. Okay.” They glanced at their shotgun, which he’d leaned up against the bench beside him. “I not get rid of that, so...” They reached up to their face.

“Y-you don’t have to if you don’t want to! I mean-“ My voice faltered as they flipped down their hood and unwound the scarf, revealing their face for the first time. It was pale and fine-featured, with a pert, elfin nose. Those big green eyes I was familiar with were set above a dusting of freckles. Their hair was deep auburn like that on their ears, and though it was pinned back it looked like let down it would reach their shoulders. A thin, faded scar ran on a diagonal all the way across their neck. All in all, they could have been a svelte woman or a very pretty man. I had to suppress a desperate groan. Why the hell is everyone I meet now so hot?

“All fine, Sharkie. I already decide to leave park, come here. Should not go halfway.”

“Oh, okay. That’s good. D-do you mind if I ask you something?” I winced, thinking that there wasn’t really a way to not sound rude here.

“Go.”

“Say I’m talking about you with someone else, and, um...what should I call you? He, she, they, something else-“

They smiled, blushing a little. “‘He.’ Not worry. I know way I look.”

“Thanks. Good. Cool.” My face was getting hot too. He hadn’t gotten mad, but I still felt like I’d said something stupid. “So! You look at the menu yet? I like the sausage biscuits for breakfast.”

He laughed at the clumsy segue, but shook his head. “No. What is sausage biscuit? Dirty joke?”

I snorted. “No, no. Much better.” It took me a bit to get the concept of gravy across but eventually he understood. “And they throw three eggs and a bunch of bacon onto the plate, too,” I finished. “It always ends up just turning into a mess, but it’s a good mess!”

He squinted at me, the expression oddly cute, then allowed a slow nod. “Okay. I believe you. I get that too.” I couldn’t tell if he was joking.

Our waiter chose that moment to show up, a young man who, though he wasn’t blue, looked like he could have been the host’s kid brother. He dropped off our veggie juice and took our order, then scooted smartly off to the kitchen.

“So can I ask...what about your eye, Sharkie?” He glanced off to the side. “Don’t have to answer, if you-“

“No, it’s fine.” He’d done me the favor of taking off his mask and answering my questions. It was only fair that I was honest too. He ought to know what he was getting into before he decided to keep being my friend. I put my tattooed hand on the table. “Do you recognize this?”

He looked from my face to the hand and back again. “You are Holy Bone. One of great clans under light.”

“Yeah. I work for them, and that’s how I lost the eye. What I do for them, it’s...” It was still hard to say out loud. Weird, when doing it came so naturally.

“You are warrior. Kill people for them.” I cringed. Pengyi hadn’t lowered his voice at all.

“...Yeah. I do.”

“Oh. Is tough job?”

“I mean, I seem to get hurt a hell of a lot, but-“ I stopped, fully parsing what he’d said. “Wait, you don’t care?”

“Care?”

I leaned closer, palms flat on the table, and kept my voice to a stage-whisper. “I kill people for money, Pengyi! Just- doesn’t that strike you as a problem? Give you pause?”

He scowled and held up a hand, fingers wiggling. “Is just my ears, thank you very much. Hands normal.”

“It’s a figure of speech! Different kind of paws!”

“Okay. And I say no. No problem. People kill each other for more and for less since... since people were at all. Is in us, and always will be.You, Sharkie...you seem like good person so far, and you not hurt anyone I know. So no problem. Is that problem?”

I sighed, not sure how to feel. “...No, it’s not. I just expected something different, I guess. Thanks.” I was quickly finding out that Pengyi- and maybe his whole culture, if Northmarch was any kind of representative- had a rather more pragmatic outlook on violence than we did here in the light.

“Nyssaluysta- um, you welcome. So what work you doing when...?” He pointed at his eye.

“Oh. So, my boss sent a friend and I to break up this meeting...” I started telling the story of Fidi and I’s mission and my fight with Lyu. Pengyi listened very intently- or maybe he was just focused on understanding the language. I’d never had a chance to just tell someone about my work like this. Walker always heard me from Doc Laggard’s gurney, and most everyone else wouldn’t want to hear about it. Felt kind of like bragging, but I found myself getting into it a little.

As I neared the end, our food arrived on a pair of steaming plates: a pair of huge biscuits each, slathered in sausage and white gravy with bacon and eggs on the side. Not exactly nutritious, but holy shit did it taste good. I watched Pengyi sniff at it, then take a tentative bite. After a second, his eyes widened and he forked up another. Suppressing a laugh, I tucked in myself. Everything tasted real, without that chalky-mildew undertone that even the best-prepared arpaste always had.

We put down our forks at about the same time, though I’d eaten a lot more than Pengyi had. He’d certainly made a valiant effort, though. He slouched down on the bench, breathing heavily.

“Never taste...anything...like that.”

“I know, right? I wonder if every meal’s like that uptown.”

“Feel bad for them...if it is.”

I cocked my head. “How come?”

“Eat it everydays, and you never surprised how good it is.” A crooked smile crossed his face.

“I guess, but I think I could live with it if it meant never tasting raw paste.”

He laughed. “Put it that way...”

Soon our waiter came by with the check. I left a stack of chits on the table, along with a generous tip- I was representing the Bones, now, so I ought to make a good impression. It wasn’t like I couldn’t afford it.

“Ah...thank you,” said Pengyi when he saw the deng. “I can pay with bluevine rope, homemade veryli liquor, few shells of tungsten buckshot...but, um, not carry money.” He blushed, and I quickly reassured him.

“All good, man, I promise. You’re the guest.” I winked. “Just let me try some of your booze, sometime.”

As we got up he pulled out a flask and passed it to me. “Small sip first. Is strong.”

I took his advice and was instantly happy I had. The stuff had to be over a hundred proof. Past the alcohol burn, though, the flavor was tart, sweet, and spicy all at once. It kind of tasted like orange, peppermint, and cinnamon, but not really at all.

“Pwah! That’s fucking great, Pengyi!”

“Have more if is good.”

I took another tiny sip and passed back the flask. “Thanks. What’s that even made out of?”

He gave me a sly, narrow-eyed smile. With his slitted pupils, it really was catlike- not that I’d say that to his face. “Maybe you visit me next time, and I show you.”

“G-guess I’ll have to,” I said, laughing nervously. “You ready? It’s off to Sunworld, now.” He nodded and we headed out.