The first wisps of morning light crept into the city, delicate and hesitant, like they were testing the waters before committing to the day. Not enough to kill the streetlights, but enough to suggest night’s tenure was almost up. The city wore silence like a poker face, alleyway shadows leaning in, secrets pooling in the cracked pavement. There was a hum in the quiet, a sense that anything could happen if you waited long enough. I walked the empty streets, my breath fogging in the cool air, hanging around like the trouble I was trying to shake.

My feet knew the way. Home—if you could call it that. A shitty motel room with walls stained the color of old regrets and a ceiling that leaked whenever the sky got too heavy. I could’ve called Cali, but my gut said no. Not with the car gone. I didn't feel like explaining that just yet. That car wasn’t just metal and gears. It was a symbol, a promise. Calling her now meant admitting I'd screwed up again—another notch on my belt of failures. The night had already kicked me in the teeth; I wasn’t ready for that conversation.

About a mile out, something flickered in my peripheral vision—a shadow moving where it shouldn't, a shiver in a closed shop window. Instinct took over. My hand moved to my hip, reaching first for my gun, then lower for my sword. Except... damn Kane. Both were gone.

My senses spiked. I pivoted hard, bolting down the first alley I saw. The stench hit me—rotting garbage, sour piss, something rank and acidic. My footsteps echoed, and then, just like I'd feared, another set joined in. A syncopated rhythm that promised trouble.

"Satan's tits," I muttered, twisting around just in time to see a brick explode above my head, red dust showering down like confetti at the worst party ever. I pressed myself against the wall, slipping into a nook just out of sight and tugging Sarge in with me.

"Missed me!" I shouted, trying to keep the nerves out of my voice.

"Oh, I don’t have to miss," came Al's voice, dripping with casual malice. "Just didn't seem fair, y'know? You look like you've had a rough night."

Of course, it was Al. The bastard always had a way of showing up like a bad case of food poisoning—inevitable and messy. Another shot cracked, this one low, the bullet kicking dust from the bricks near my crotch. I could feel the warmth of the shattered stone dusting Sarge, who had been darting between my legs.

"Hey, hey!" I yelled, pulling Sarge closer to me. "Watch it, Al! You almost got Sarge!"

"Shit, man, sorry," Al called back, his tone genuinely apologetic. You can kill a man, but mess with his dog? "You wanna get him outta here or what?"

Frank piped up, as sarcastic as ever. Not doing it, he told me silently.

Come on, I pushed.

Nope.

Maybe if he’s far enough away, it’ll break the link, I said, like a dealer pushing bad goods.

A long pause. You're full of it, Jack. But fine.

There was another pause, then Frank’s voice returned. He doesn’t want to go. Says you’re not safe. Figures you’re likely to get yourself killed. Which, honestly, is a fairly good bet. Oh, and he says you smell like a dumpster fire on a summer afternoon.

Did he? I asked, dryly.

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I might have added that last part. But it's true.

I shook my head and bent down, staying close to the wall. Sarge looked at me, head cocked, his dark eyes full of confusion. "Okay, Sarge," I said, voice heavy. "You’re gonna have to scram, buddy. I need to concentrate if I'm going to make it out of this one. I'll meet you back at the motel, yeah? Can you follow my scent there?"

Sarge tilted his head, fixing me with a look that said, clear as day, You’re an idiot.

“He said—” Frank began.

“I got that one,” I interrupted, nodding. “Right, of course you can.” I scratched Sarge’s ear. “Go on now. I’ll meet you there. I’ll bring a treat.”

Sarge gave me a look that was half-skeptical, half-hopeful—like he didn’t quite believe me but wanted to trust me enough to go along with it. Then he took off, his tail vanishing around the corner.

“Al!” I yelled once Sarge was out of sight. “Can we reschedule this? Tomorrow works. Or, you know, any day this week—I’m wide open. It’s just… it’s been a long night.”

"No can do, Jack," Al’s voice echoed down the alley, casual as hell. "Wife's got me redoing the damn house again, and the bounty on your head's a good chunk of change. Gotta make that happen."

"I don’t have what they want anymore," I shouted. "Check the morning paper! They'll drop the bounty."

“All the more reason to get this over with right now. A kill’s a kill if the bounty’s still active,” Al shot back. “No hard feelings, yeah, Jack?”

"No hard feelings," I muttered, rolling my eyes. "Work's work."

"Glad you understand." Al sounded like he was smiling.

"Just a heads-up—I'm not holding back. I got a full clip, ready to unload!" I shouted, trying to bluff.

"Bullshit!" Al laughed. "You got nothin', Jack."

Way to sell it, Frank chimed in.

"Tell you what!" I yelled. "You put down your gun, I put down Frank, and we do this the old-fashioned way. Kill each other like reasonable people."

A beat of silence, then Al answered, "You serious?"

Al was a hulking wall of a man, built like a fortress. Muscles rippled under his shirt, his shoulders broad enough to block out the dim light behind him. He was tall, and towered over me, with arms like tree trunks and fists that could probably crack stone. I knew I couldn’t take him in hand-to-hand combat on my best day—but, lucky for me, this was far from my best day.

What the hell are you doing, Jack? Frank hissed in my head. You’re gonna get yourself killed. Again.

Ye of little faith, I thought, rolling my shoulders, trying to loosen up. Trust me, I got this.

Oh, sure, sure. You are practically falling apart. But no, you've got this. Of course you do, Frank replied. Well, if I don’t see you again—farewell, goodbye, auf wiedersehen, adieu.

I looked to the sky, hands open, a quiet sigh slipping free as Frank continued, I suppose there are worse fates for me—though, truly, I can’t imagine them. His voice exuded theatrical sorrow. No, don't worry about me. What am I to you? Just another accessory. Al will make a… suitable partner from here on out, I suppose.

Relax, Frank. I’ve got an edge, I said.

And what’s that? Frank asked, scornful.

“I’m hungry,” I muttered, stepping out, sliding Frank off my shoulders and setting him aside with exaggerated, almost mocking care.

“All right, Jack. Just for you,” Al rumbled, a smirk twisting his lips. “But I gotta make this quick. There’s an early bird special at Mabel’s.”

“I’ll try not to drag it out,” I shot back, feeling the amber shard pulse to life inside me, steady and electric.

He stepped forward, rolling his shoulders, the ground seeming to shake beneath him. “Just a fair fight,” he said, almost like a promise.

“Ain’t nothin’ fair about this,” I replied, a grim smile creeping onto my face.