Greasers was like every other eatery in Tower Ten. It was barely clean, hosted a number of chipped glasses, served food with enough oil to run an engine, and was the only place in town for any sort of social activity. Greasers had one difference than the rest, however. It had an actual viewscreen and a list of old entertainment from the megacities.

Rumor had it that the owner’s grandfather used to be someone of minor importance but was forced to flee. Likely through some minor offense. They’d settled in Tower Ten, opening Greasers and using the small amount of entertainment they brought with them as their hook.

Whatever the case, it worked. On any night a person could walk into Greasers to see it crowded with citizens of the Tower, old reruns of sports or plays on the screen. More often sports than plays. The citizens of Tower Ten enjoyed the sappy, melodramatic shlock as much as the next, but the underdog messages burned after a while. Dreaming wasn’t something people did when trying to drown their sorrows in alcohol.

“I thought you said the Jade Tigers were playing,” Tsukiko said with a tone as they walked in.

Greasers was set up in a way so everyone could at least somewhat see the large screen hanging over the bar. On it, two teams of eleven faced each other, the Two Ton Tortoises and the Bone Dragons by the looks of it. Each had a goalie sitting in the goal zone while the rest passed the ball around without using their hands. The ball itself moved erratically, the result of both teams adding a modifier. Mass and rotation by the look of it.

“I could have sworn someone told me the Tigers were playing,” James said playfully. “Oh well, since we’re here we should get something. I’ve actually got enough to splurge on something nice for a change.”

“Real meat?” Tsukiko asked.

James winced. “Maybe not that nice.”

Tsukiko stared at him hard, but eventually relented. “Fine. But only if your splurge impresses me.”

“I aim to please,” James bowed.

The two made their way to a small side table. James settled in and let Tsukiko do the same. He’d made the mistake once before of offering to pull out her chair. The woman had just glared more daggers at him. Strangely, that had only made James want to do it more. But he pushed the feelings down. He could act out once he’d actually convinced Tsukiko to go out with him.

It had been their game, the two of them. Tsukiko refused his advances while James did his best to circumvent her refusals. Both knew how the story would end, the same way it always did. He and Tsukiko would marry, likely after he secured an actual mechanic job. Until then, the two would play the back and forth jig, the will they won’t they tango, and the belligerent sexual tension two-step. It was something of a ritual in Tower Ten, born from the scraps of plays and entertainment pulled from the megacities.

A server greeted the two, an older, burly man with chrome running across his arms. “Hey Tsukiko. James.”

James laughed. “What, no hey for me, Yasin?”

“You ain’t a horse,” Yasin joked. “So, planning to order water and share a plate of rice cakes again?”

“Not this time,” James said. “I made some good money today. Thinking of bringing out the good stuff.”

“James Chen a big spender?” Yasin said with a shake of his head. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

James winked at Tsukiko. “You prepared to put money on it?”

Yasin laughed. “Called my bluff, I see. No, I know better than to gamble, son. Now, what’re you fancien’?”

“I would like the imitation crab,” Tsukiko said. “With a small glass of baijiu.”

Yasin nodded. “And you, James?”

“Whatever pork you have today,” James said. “And some Arrack.”

“You got it.”

Yasin left, leaving Tsukiko and James to make small talk. The two bantered and bickered, discussing their jobs and the terrible work they had to do. Neither paid attention to the screen above, both knowing it had been the excuse for the date. Besides, neither were actually all that interested in Voidball.

Their food came shortly, steaming plates and chilled alcohol. Both dug in, enjoying the small comfort food provided by slightly more generous tips. Talks continued, and soon both were jovially reminiscing their time in the orphanage. Neither noticed the three travelers that walked into the building.

They, however, noticed James and instantly made a beeline to their table.

James frowned as he looked up at the trio. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all, friend,” the first thug said. The second of the trio pulled a chair from another table.

James, slightly tipsy from the stronger than usual drink, leaned back in his chair to take in the thugs. They were the typical riff-raff, burly men with wide arms and small heads. Veins under their skin bulged, likely the use some kind of stimulant. Each had a tattoo of a coiling snake running from their left arm into their shirt, ending at their heart.

“James?” Tsukiko asked.

“Look, it’s a bit rude to sit at another’s table,” James said, acting tough.

“Just as it’s a bit rude to take something off our turf,” the thug said. He had a sharp voice, the kind of voice that spoke authority and expected the listener to follow.

James laughed. “You think I stole something? From the Venom gang?”

“We knows it,” the second thug said, his voice deep and stupid. Though, that might have been the alcohol affecting James’s senses.

“What my friend here is saying,” the first thug started, “is that we have evidence of you entering one of our warehouses and liberating it of a certain valuable.”

James did his best to look puzzled despite the alcohol affecting his senses. He knew what the thugs were talking about. Every courier took side jobs for the gangs. Sure, they were masked as legitimate business, and for all intents and purposes they were. But everyone knew about the delivery jobs that asked you to hold a package for a week before delivery. Everyone took them, too, because the pay was often three times the normal and hey, it wasn’t like it was hard to stash a package for a week.

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The only question was, why were the Venom gang coming after him for it? Gangs stole from each other all the time, and the couriers were never targeted. The gangs didn’t go after the delivery guy, because then they’d have no more delivery guys.

“I’m sorry, friends,” James said, his voice even. “I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”

“Then you won’t mind coming out and having a quick talk with us,” the first thug said. His eyes flicked over to Tsukiko, the threat clear.

James stiffened for a microsecond before forcing himself to look relaxed. “Alright, then. Let’s go and discuss this like good friends do.”

Everyone but Tsukiko stood. She looked up at James with more concern than the man had ever seen. He hated the look.

“Don’t worry,” James said, pulling a bit of tradeable scrap out of his pocket for the meal. “This won’t take long. I’ll be back before you know it.”

Tsukiko swallowed nervously, but nodded. James wrapped a friendly arm around the second thug. “Well then, let’s go have a talk.”

They led James out the door, leaving Greasers behind. A few people, those that knew James, looked at him with concern, but none tried to help. James didn’t blame them, helping put them at risk. And risk wasn’t something anyone in Tower Ten could afford.

As James and the thugs left, a quartet of hooded figures at the far table shifted. One had an arm on the other, the latter halfway standing as if trying to follow. They shook the arm off and stood. There was a smattering of whispered arguing, then a heavy sigh as the others stood. The group walked out, somehow unnoticed by the others.

“So, boys, what’s this actually about,” James said once they were across the street. The second thug had shoved his hand off as soon as they exited the building and had moved to stand behind James in an attempt to cut off his escape.

“You stole something from us,” the first thug said.

“I did no such thing,” James rebutted. “I’m a courier, not a thief.”

“Ain’t much a difference,” the third thug said. His voice growled like a feral animal.

“Wow, such harsh accusations,” James said.

“You can stop with the wheedling,” the first thug said. “We know it was you, we have evidence.”

“You keep saying that,” James said. “But unless you have a video or something I don’t see how you can accuse me of something I didn’t do.”

“Good thing we got a video then,” the second thug said with a laugh.

James raised an eyebrow. This had to have been a recent thing. The Venom gang were a threat, sure, but they were the wild animal kind of threat. They’d roar and howl whenever someone invaded their territory, and they’d bite back if things got dire, but they never went out of their way for revenge. None of the gangs did.

“So who’s the new backer?” James asked casually.

“What?” the third thug growled.

“Tam, shut up,” the first thug said. He turned to James. “We don’t have a new backer.”

James snorted. “Right, let’s both just lay our cards on the table. Yes, I went to a warehouse. A warehouse on your turf, and picked up a package. I’m not the first, and certainly not the last. Now, maybe if I’d been caught we’d be having a similar conversation, but I wasn’t.”

“We got—“

“Yeah, yeah,” James interrupted. “You’ve got evidence. Video evidence. Videos are expensive here, everyone knows that. More expensive if you’re using it to monitor a boring warehouse instead of something actually valuable. Which means you suddenly received an influx of cash from some higher power. Now, that could be god, but my nose tells me its something else. Maybe an agriscientist looking to smuggle in some illegal goods?”

The thugs didn’t react.

“Really, no?” James snapped his fingers. “I was so sure that was it.”

“You wouldn’t know ‘em,” the third thug growled.

“Tam, I told you to shut up,” the first thug said. His voice sharpened like a knife on a whetstone.

“Fine, let’s say some of your thinking is correct,” the first thug said. “Why shouldn’t I just tear your legs apart?”

“Better to use me than abuse me,” James said easily. His eyes darted from thug to thug, looking for openings. Talking often worked for James, but he was no stranger to sour deals. “Look, you can bash my legs in, break my arms, twist my nose off for good measure, but it won’t amount to anything. You might get one, two weeks of freedom before the other gangs are back to their business. Business in this case is hiring couriers like me to ferry goods if that wasn’t clear.

“Instead, what you should do is hire me for a risky job or two. Something that no one else could possibly complete. If I succeed, I’ve done you a valuable service and if I fail I’m probably dead.”

The first thug laid a hand on his chin. “Tempting. But what’s to stop you from providing the same offer to our enemy?”

“Professionalism on my part?” James answered.

“No.”

“Well, in that case you can send someone to watch me,” James said.

“Hmm,” the first thug said. “Not unreasonable.”

James smiled. “Great. Now, let’s talk rates.”

The first thug smiled back, a thin thing that held more malice than darkness in a cave. “Of course, I didn’t reach my position by being reasonable. Tam?”

James acted, sprinting forward like a coiled spring. The first thug jabbed. James ducked below it, stepping quickly to stand back to back with the thug. The one named Tam shouted while the stupid sounding one charged forward.

James bent and fell into a roll, expecting a wild swing from the malicious thug. Something whirred over him, a mechanical thing that sounded like an electric razor. James didn’t look back at it. Looking back wasted time. Instead, he bobbed and weaved as he sprinted toward the wall.

His eyes spied the length of piping leading to the roof, the slack of dead electrical wire next to it. With a grunt, James jumped and grabbed the cord, shimmying up it. The small hoop holding the wire snapped, sending James jerking back to the thugs.

With a curse, James spun as he swung. He jerked himself to the side in an attempt to slow down. It gave him enough time to pull his legs upward to avoid a swing from one of the thugs.

The cord halted and started to swing back, but James was ready. At the apex of the swing, James steadied himself so he faced the thugs directly. The one called Tam held his arms high and wide, obviously attempting to grab James. The malicious one held a thin, whirring dagger that looked dangerous enough to decapitate.

James grit his teeth as he swung back. About halfway down, James thrust his legs forward, speeding up his swing. The change gave him enough surprise to slam his feet right onto Tam’s face, though he had to let go of the rope to do it. The one with the dagger clenched the weapon and rushed forward. The other did the same.

Thinking quickly, James jumped from Tam’s head toward the second thug, if only because he didn’t have a weapon on him. The thug tried to strike with a haymaker, but James split his legs and pushed down on the punch, using it as a springboard. It wasn’t the greatest of springboards, but the thug’s steroids easily made him strong enough to hold another person’s weight. It gave James enough height and momentum to land behind the thug.

“Well, it’s been fun!” James shouted. He bolted down the street.

“Murt, go get the girl!” the first thug shouted.

James screeched to a halt. He turned. “You wouldn’t.”

“Why not?” the thug asked. “No one would care about some collateral damage.”

“And you’d just break the unwritten rules, then?” James asked. The rules in question being, don’t upset the apple cart so the Emperor doesn’t send his police around.

“The rules are changing,” the thug said. “We’re going to be the new rulers of this place. Which means, what I say goes.”

“Now, that sounds like treason against the emperor,” a voice in the darkness said.

The thug whirled. James watched as a cloaked figure stepped out of the darkness and into the light of the surrounding streetlamps. James saw a wisp of shining black hair under the cloak before it inevitably fell back under hood’s dark shadow.

“You trying to be a masked hero or something?” the thug asked. “Get out of here if you know what’s good for you.”

The thug brandished the knife. James watched as the hooded figure bent, their hands coming up into a martial arts stance. The thug snarled and charged, thrusting the knife out in a stab.

With impossible speed, the hooded figure stepped to the side, guided the thug’s strike with one hand and grabbed with the other. They then took a single step forward, pivoting to twist the thug’s momentum so he was forced to turn. The figure continued the spin, faster and faster until the thug was off the ground and flying in the air. Then, the figure let go, sending the thug crashing into one of the many streetlamps. The pole bent under the strike, leaving a body-sized dent in the metal.

“Usually, the punishment for treason is death,” the figure said. “However, in this case I believe the comment was made in jest.”