Kazin

Kala and I sit in her hovercar, which trails Ganzama’s own. The vehicle weaves through the lanes at Baku’s instruction, leading us to where the Kargu are keeping Riko prisoner. The high-pitched hums and droning of the city without accentuate the tense silence within our car.

“Are we really going to let him free after this?” I ask Kala cautiously.

“No.”

A cold sweat breaks out on my chest, though it was the answer I had expected. A coldblooded execution is something I can hardly stomach. It brings up too many painful memories of my own.

We are not murderers, I think to myself. The Yamda are different. So we claim.

Ganzama’s car swerves to the left, towards the outskirts of Tobashinta District.

“Namino,” Kala mutters. “Of course.”

Our driver follows the lead of Ganzama’s car as it decreases in altitude. The city lights are largely to our rear now. Before us is only darkness, with the rare scattering of orange fluorescent lights like clusters of lone, fallen stars. There is no trace of the neon jungle here—only the remains of what was once a thriving industrial field. Now, Namino is only a skeletal memory of its distant past, of decaying factories and rundown housing units. It’s a somber attestation to the fleeting nature of prosperity that comes in the wake of the relentless march of innovation.

Ganzama’s car gently lowers itself until it is skimming, but not touching the cracked pavement of the roads. Looming warehouses and chimneys of gargantuan plants stand sentry on every side. From here, we can only see the neon-tinged vestige of the city to our rear, lighting the night sky a faint pink and blue and turquoise.

Ganzama’s car slows to a stop on the fringes of a large field surrounded on all sides by warehouses. It looks like it was once a storage ground for containers—I think I can even spot the dilapidated remains of a fallen crane or two across the yard.

Several transport vans halt behind us. Nearly two hundred Joryoku of the Tobashinta District have joined us. Kala revealed our strategy to me during our journey here. Yamda members had managed to discover the location of the Kargu energyTower. After we rescue Riko, we are to hit the Kargu clan’s energyTower in Tobashinta. Then, while the Kargu are on a limited power supply, we take them out street by street, business by business until we push them out of Tobashinta entirely. My stomach is a jumble of nerves, and I can feel the anxiety rushing through my veins. My hands are trembling as we exit the hovercar.

The night is cold. Baku is led out in a pair of plasmaCuffs and thrown onto the ground. Ganzama steps up beside him. He no longer has a limp—the healers were able to sufficiently repair his leg plates to get him walking well again. Just to be sure his leg is in good enough condition for a fight, Ganzama graces Baku with a kick to the side, then grunts in satisfaction to echo Baku’s own.

“Cheap shot,” Baku complains.

“Get up, Kargu,” Kala says, hauling Baku to his feet. “Tell us which warehouse.”

Baku nods, then begins stumbling along the line of dominating structures. He stops in front of one, then kicks at it.

“This one.”

Kala beckons to a nearby Yamda, and he fishes Baku’s cTab out from the latter’s pocket. He holds it against the lockpad, and it beeps open.

“Kargu told the truth,” Ganzama remarks, earning him a smirk from Baku.

The warehouse doors are pushed open. It is empty.

“Where is he?” Kala asks.

“In the office,” Baku says. He juts his chin towards the rear of the building. “That way.”

The Yamda clansmembers are left to guard the door, and the rest of us hurry through the aisles of equipment. Just as Baku said, there is an elevated office against the far wall. The lights are on inside. Ganzama charges his jump and leaps onto the platform, skipping the stairs entirely. From there, he bashes the doors in.

“Ganzama, wait, damn you,” Kala calls out. She charges her jump as well and lands just beside him, cracklers drawn, just in case. I join them, having powered my own jump.

Riko is inside, sitting at a desk. His hair is long, brown, and tied into a ponytail. His hands are free, and he hardly looks the prisoner. He gasps in surprise when he sees us standing at the doorway.

“Ganzama?” he squeaks.

“Riko,” Ganzama says, sauntering into the room and giving Riko a relieved pat on the back. “We thought we’d lost you.”

Riko’s still wearing an expression of surprise. “Right,” he says, taking a step back. He casts a wary glance at Baku in the corner.

Something is off, I think to myself. Warily, I glance around the room, wondering where his guards are.

I am not the only one who notices that the club owner is sweating profusely. Kala’s hands quiver as she flips on her cracklers. She stalks towards Riko, her eyes dark and full of suspicion.

“Not who we expected, Riko?” Kala seethes. She lifts a crackler to neck-level and forces Riko against the wall. “Ganzama, the bitch sold us out.”

Ganzama stares incredulously at Riko. “What are you talking about? Kala, get that crackler away from him.”

Riko laughs nervously. “I did not sell you out.”

“Then why so nervous?” Kala asks in a tight voice.

“I’m in knots here,” Riko explains with a quivering shrug. “I thought I was going to be confronted by dangerous Kargu, but here I am, surrounded by friends.”

Ganzama places his hand on Kala’s arm. “Put it down, Kala.”

Kala’s glare travels between Ganzama and Riko, unsure of what to do. She reluctantly lowers her arm, though the tension in her muscles still implies her readiness to use them.

“Did they hurt you, Riko? You alright?” Ganzama beckons, encouraging Riko to take a seat at the table. Riko obliges.

“Not much,” Riko says, wiping the sweat from his brow.

“I suppose this is where I say sorry for your club,” Ganzama says apologetically, patting Riko on the shoulder. “The clan will make amends.”

“Oh, it’s alright,” Riko says, waving his hand. “It was expected. Nothing I can’t cover the cost of myself. I accept your apology though, Ganzama. Thank you.”

Oh no, I think to myself. My hand travels to the hilt of the flameSword at my belt.

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

Ganzama nods. “You’re a friend. Nothing we—Kala, what are you doing? Put it down!”

Kala’s crackler is back up in a heartbeat, aimed at Riko’s neck. “And explain to me, you ratty bastard, exactly how you knew your club was destroyed? Why were you expecting damage?” Kala whips her gaze at Ganzama. “He knew we were going to be attacked. At the very least he was expecting a fight.” She levels her gaze at Riko again. “What he wasn’t expecting, it would seem, is that my division was present to reinforce yours.”

Riko swallows, and I know Kala’s caught him in a lie. I glance at Ganzama to hope he sees the same. Ganzama stares incredulously at Kala. Then, as the realization sinks in, his eyes go through a series of stages—they’re crestfallen, confused, followed by the sadness of broken trust, and then I see the fires of rage burning within as the betrayal sinks in. He takes Riko by the neck and lifts him up from the ground, dangling him in the air. His bioEnhancements blink and rage as he tightens his grip around the traitor’s neck.

“You bastard,” he grimaces. “I put my neck out for you! I went against the clan tenets to help you out!”

Riko can only splutter, and Ganzama hurls him against the window. The glass cracks, but it doesn’t shatter. Even in his anger, Ganzama has practiced restraint.

“I…” Riko manages. “Business…”

“Kala,” I whisper. “We have to get out of—"

Through the glass, I see the warehouse doors burst open. A wave of Joryoku wielding blue flameSwords floods into the building like an inescapable breaker. There are shouts, cries, screams. Green beamShot streak across the grounds. The Yamda answer with red beamShot. Golden flameSwords are out in an instant like a raging plain lighting aflame, and the two armies clash with a roar.

Baku’s laughing hysterically. “You Yamda swine can never win,” he scoffs. “You have no idea! You’re all dead!”

“Maybe,” Kala says through her grimace. “I won’t be going alone though.” She whips out her photonBlaster and fires a shot right through Baku’s skull. He crumples to the ground, the smile still painted across his face. Kala fires at him until his head is a pile of mush.

“Out, now!” Kala screams.

Ganzama’s already jumping through the window. I’m sprayed by a barrage of glass from the force of his jump. Kala and I dash after him through the window, as do the Yamda who are with us.

Screams fill the air. I would have liked to call it a fair fight; however, it is anything but. The Kargu pour into the warehouse in unending waves. There are hundreds of them, perhaps even a thousand. I cannot perceive their true numbers—the terror of a likely defeat is upon me, and I can only think of my survival. I am screaming curses, Kala is screaming curses, Ganzama is roaring over the chaos of battle.

At the head of the enemy army, I see another familiar face—Taiki, with his twin blue flameSwords a never-ending blur, wreakers of carnage. His smile is illuminated in the shade of blue death. Both of his eyes glow red. For the first time since my bioEnhancements were installed, I feel terror. I am not invincible. I am not a god. I am a newbie who thought he was leagues above everyone else after he’d won a single skirmish against an outnumbered enemy.

A sense of impending doom is upon me, and my movements are weighed down by that terrible burden.

Yamda are falling left and right—men and women I had just fought side-by-side with only hours before. Our line cannot hold—there are too many of the enemy. They are crashing against us like waves against rock, slaughtering us as we fall back, leaving lines of our dead and wounded in our wake. The ground is filled with bloodied limbs; wiring splutters from red stumps. Many of our fighters have pushed themselves to their limits, overriding their inhibitors or having switched them off—their arms are smoking and hanging limply at their sides while others are staggering on a single strong leg.

And just like that, we are retreating. Not an ordered retreat—this is a rout, a scramble for survival, the desperate, unseemly flailing of a cornered hound. We are scrambling towards the back entrance. I catch sight of Ganzama. He is so bloodied I hardly recognize him. Kala’s weapons have been damaged beyond repair; she is down to her fists. I deflect a Kargu who comes after me with his blue flameSword. I duck, then shatter his chin with a bioCharged uppercut. I am side-by-side with Kala now.

“What do we do?” I ask her.

She looks around us. “We’re done for. We have to escape.”

“How?” I ask in a frenzy.

She levels a gaze at me, then yanks me by the shirt. “Go. Save yourself. Ganzama and I will hold them off.”

“What are you talking about?” I scream.

“You don’t know how much the Commander cares for you. Get out of here. Live. That’s the last order I give you.”

A final line of Yamda is holding the enemy back at the end of the corridor that leads to a rear exit. To the left of the exit is another door. Kala does not lead me to the back exit. Rather, she opens the second door.

“They’ll be waiting outside to slaughter any who try to escape,” she explains hurriedly. She throws me into the dark room. “Run as fast as you can.” With that, she shuts the door.

I curse. I curse. I take out my cTab and flip on the torch. I am in a dark corridor. There is only one way to go. I run and run and run as fast as my feet will take me, hating myself all the more with every step that takes me farther away from the battle.

I try to see where the corridor ends, but there is only a dim shadow before me, either escorting me during my escape or fleeing from me with every step I take. I turn back to look behind me, and that is when I realize that the corridor is slanting downwards. I am going subterranean.

I run and run and run. The corridor is a maze, but there is only one path. I lose all sense of direction. I have no idea where the road is leading me. My breathing grows heavy, and I am unsure whether it is due to the tightness of the chamber or of that in my chest. I can only think of those I had believed would be my companions during my journey of vengeance—Kala, Ganzama. Instead, they will all be killed by the Kargu, slaughtered and destroyed with the rest of their fighters—and I am the only one who is running like a craven by myself for selfish survival. It's like Dad and Hazgal all over again—I begin to believe I am starting something new, and instead is it the death of something I had known. And once again, only I emerge alive. Life cannot be a blessing for someone like me—it has to be a curse. A taunt. A mockery.

Soon, the pathway begins slanting upwards. My legs are aching beyond belief. I am no longer sure whether I am in Yamda or Kargu territory, so I try to preserve my energy. If I were to be caught by the Kargu without a single charge left to me, I would not only be useless in a fight, I would be a heap on the ground who could not even move their limbs.

At length, I can see what appears to be the end of the tunnel. There is not much of a light, only a darkness of a softer hue. I stumble onwards until I can finally confirm that it is indeed an exit. A part of me leaps in relief, though the other part of me is filled with a whole different sort of fear. Handata City is huge, and I do not know it well. Other than Shirumo and Minzyu, I am not familiar with many other parts of the city. What if I have unknowingly stumbled into a Kargu nest?

As I near the exit, I slow my step and catch my breath. Then, I begin edging my way to the end of the tunnel. I feel a soft breeze. As I draw nearer, I can see the faint glow of neon lights peeking over the heads of the buildings. The silhouettes of the towers which soar the sky look familiar—I think I am still within Tobashinta, thankfully.

I exit the tunnel and stumble into the slums of Tobashinta. There are people all around, staring at me strangely. Many are dressed in clothing no better than rags. Others are lying on the ground and writhing in ecstasy from the effects of cybernetic narcotics. I conceal my bioEnhancements as best as I can. Drawing up GPS on my cTab, I begin making my way to the Kyando neighborhood. Riko’s club may have sold us out, but there are still many Yamda members patrolling the streets. If I could only alert them to what happened, we might be able to gather a small force and save Ganzama and Kala. It is a hopeless hope, but it is what keeps me moving, keeps my limbs moving step by step though they burn with exhaustion.

But then I arrive at Kyando.

The red laser lines of Constabulary perimters have been activated all through the neighborhood. Those who were partying in Kyando just hours before are now peering with curiosity past the constable lines. I find myself one of the curious spectators. All hope seeps from my heart. All thoughts of rescue escape from my mind.

Bodies are littered across the streets. Yamda bodies. The Kargu made their strike in Kyando as well. I see Joryoku members conversing with constables in the streets as anything but enemies.

Choking back sobs, I stumble away, fleeing as far from Kyando as I can. I need to find a shuttle, a tram, anything, to return to Norbu. I must inform him of what has happened here. I must gather the Yamda forces and return to Namino to save Ganzama and Kala. I cannot fail again. I will not be helpless again.

Soon, I am stumbling blindly along the streets. I am oblivious to my surroundings. The entire area seems to be situated beneath a huge steel canopy. It is noisy here. The neighborhood is an amalgamation of marketplaces, eateries, bars, and entertainment venues. It appears to be a miniature city within a city. I am vaguely aware of the people who watch me with suspicious eyes as I pass by—they are aware of my bioEnhancements, but I lack the wits to conceal them.

Maybe I should have.

When I stumble into a large plaza surrounded by neon billboards, a man stops me. He is wearing a black leather jacket. Parts of his body have been bioEnhanced, though he lacks the tattoos which mark him Joryoku.

I lift my gaze.

The man has spiky crimson hair, and his eyes glow red from augmentation.

“I was told there was a Joryoku pig in the streets. Didn’t believe they’d dare enter.”

I look behind him, and I see nearly one hundred other wearing the same kind of leather jacket. They are gripping cracklers in hand. Each and every one of them are glaring at me with a sense of loathing. I shift my eyes back to my confronter. He smiles ominously.

“The Seven Star Mob would like to extend our greetings, Joryoku swine.”