Skye – Monday, ??:??am

“Ray, what the fuck's going on?” Skye tried to brush his way past Ray again, but the hulking robot stopped him.

“Quiet,” Ray growled. “You got company.”

“Fuck, oh fuck,” Skye murmured, putting his hands on his head. “It's the debt collectors, isn't it?”

“They're packin' heat, chillin' outside your place. You be the judge.”

“Hey!” a masculine voice called out from around the street corner. “Who's yappin' over there?”

Two pale-skinned men, dressed in black suits, turned the corner with smarmy grins plastered on their faces. Just behind them, a thresher walked out from behind the corner, sporting the gang's iconic black and red insectoid armour, holding a matching assault rifle at the ready.

Skye quickly recognized the men as two of the loan sharks coming after him.

Fuck! Have these creditors been working with the threshers this whole time? Skye shuddered.

The leader of the sharks' crew, wearing a bright cyan tie, stepped forward.

“Oho-o-oo, shit. Would you look at that. Is that the shakedown kid rolling with the big bad Ray? Looks like you've seen better days.” The sharks chuckled to themselves while the thresher remained silent.

Ray readied his weapon, aiming at the opposing crew. The thresher responded by raising their gun as well.

With Cassandra inside only a few dozen paces away, and his friends right beside him, Skye took a step forward. He raised his hands towards the two gunmen, shouting, “hey, stop! Chill! Fucking relax! Put the guns down!” His breaths hissed through clenched teeth and his face was that of a man at the end of his rope.

“Don't shoot!” he continued. “I don't want any fucking bullets flying, okay?! What the hell do you want? You wanted money yesterday, right? Well I've been a bit fucking incapacitated, so I need a bit more time!”

The shark considered Skye's words, eventually nodding in approval. “Well, with your friend pointing that thing at us, maybe circumstances have changed. Maybe we were a bit overzealous with you. See, we're getting tired of pissing around with some guy down on his luck, but the bottom line is we haven't received what's due to us. Not only that, but one of our guys just up and vanished yesterday after coming to sort you out. You know anything about that? You got anything for us, kid? 'Cause threshy boy here ain't too pleased with any of this.” He gestured to the armoured gangster behind him.

With his friends – especially Ray – beside him, Skye found even more of his courage.

“Sorry, I've been busy getting fucked an inch from my life for the last 24 hours!” Skye belted out, confidently exaggerating his circumstances. “I don't know shit about your guy!”

“He seriously doesn't know anything,” Wrench backed him up. “We just pulled him out of a death trap because some other dickhead wanted him dead.”

“Dickhead? Hey. Chill with the insults. We're cool, we're civil. I don't want either of these metal-skulls getting any more pissed off.” The collector looked back to Skye. “I'd rather not have to make a mess in such a cozy part of town, don't you agree?”

“Yeah, no, I don't want a mess,” Skye answered.

“So how about this, kid. You still owe us 79,000 srakna. You've got two minutes to make threshy happy, or we're going to continue having a problem, and we might not be so nice next time. Deal?”

“Okay, just–” With the situation on a hair trigger, Skye pursed his lips and fervently racked his brain for some kind of solution. He flat out didn't have the money, but was there anything else he could pay them off with? Gadgets, tech, electronics...?

Then it hit him. The idea forced a wince across his face, but he couldn't ignore the fact that he did have something valuable.

His obsession, his fixation: the “madeakelor” signal tracking project that he'd created with part of the borrowed money. A pit slowly grew in his stomach as he came to terms with the fact that he had nothing else of value for the collectors. At least, nothing worth 79 grand.

Skye glanced over to Wrench, who was sheepishly holding a small wad of cash in the air.

Their leader spoke up again. “Yeeaah, I don't think that's going to cut it, bud.”

“N-no, I got this, it's cool, it's cool,” Skye stammered, raising a hand to Wrench. “I... have something you might like. Um... you're a thresher, so you like technology and stuff right?”

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The armoured goon gave Skye a very slow nod.

“I've got something in my home. Something I've been working on. I-if you like what you see, then... maybe... m-maybe you can take it as compensation.” Every word stung on its way out, but he couldn't think up any other solution.

After a few seconds of consideration, the thresher put their hands on each of the collectors' shoulders, guiding them both to the side. The pair of sharks held their arms out towards Skye's apartment as if to welcome him to his own home. Reluctantly, Skye began walking forward with his friends in tow.

He approached the door with the thresher walking uncomfortably close beside him, with the others hardly a pace behind. Realizing he didn't have his keys – they'd gone missing with his coat – Skye leaned close to the door.

“Cassandra?” he said.

“Coming!” her voice answered from inside.

“Um, wait, Cass! Can you do me a big favour?”

“Yeah?” Her voice increased in volume as she approached the door.

“Don't open the door! Just... just unlock it, and then can you go to your room for a few minutes? And close your bedroom door?”

“...Okay? What's going on?”

“I'll explain later. I just really need you to do this for me, okay?”

“Is everything all right?”

“I-it will be, I promise, I'll explain everything later. Please, Cass.”

“Okay,” she finished, matching the unease in Skye's voice.

The door lock clicked, and Skye put his hand on the doorknob, waiting a few moments for Cassandra to shut herself in her room.

“Didn't know you had family,” one of the collectors remarked. “Could've made this a lot easier.”

Skye scowled at the door, resisting the urge to give the scumbag a piece of his mind. Shortly after, he slowly turned the handle, stepping foot inside his suite. Glancing back, he saw the sharks were blocking his friends from entering.

“C'mon, guys, we don't need to crowd him in there, do we?” one of them remarked.

“They come inside,” Skye growled, peering over at his friends, who looked equally as pissed.

“Kid, you're seriously not in a place to be pushing it.”

Skye glanced at Ray's gun for a quick dose of courage. “This is my own fucking home, and I want some assurance that I'm not going to get shot in here. We're not going fuck around. I just want some protection.”

The shark leader scowled. “If it's going to get your ass moving faster, whatever. Hurry the fuck up. My patience is running real fucking thin with you.”

Everyone cautiously shuffled inside, with the collectors entering before Skye's friends could get in. Janice and Wrench's faces were a mixture of discomfort and anger, gazes darting between members of the opposing party. The sharks stood in front of the kitchen appliances opposite the door, while Wrench and Janice stood beside the door, without a word, stiff as a plank.

Ray marched over to Skye, turning his head to face the thresher, who continued standing irritatingly close to Skye just a few paces from the kitchenette.

“Go. Show me,” the thresher barked with a highly synthesized, masculine voice.

“Go with the gun-toters,” the tie-wearing collector began, “we'll stay here and keep your friends in check.”

Power tripping cunts.

Skye slowly walked forward, guiding Ray and the thresher to his room. Pushing his door open, he made way for the gangster to go to his desk and inspect his project.

The thug looked over Skye's black market hardware, carefully picking up individual pieces, presumably scanning each part with his visor.

It was painfully hard to stand still with all the adrenaline pumping through his body. If he doesn't like it and starts blasting... oh god...

“Where'd you get this?” the gangster inquired.

“Um... I made it, I guess. I got the exa-router from a contact in the city. It kinda tracks radio signals. There's something covering all of Miyatama–”

“Madeakelor.”

“Y-yeah.”

“Exa-router, huh.”

“That's right.”

The thresher stared at the electronics for a few long seconds. “Tell me who sold it to you.”

“...Just some guy who went by the name Wire Tailor. I met him on the western edge of the city.”

“No kidding,” the thresher hummed in a curious tone.

“Is that... good?” Skye asked.

“Yeah. Real good.”

The answer perplexed Skye, but he had little time to dwell on it.

The goon pointed across the room, over near the bed where a pair of cardboard boxes sat on the floor. “Pack it up for me,” he demanded.

Skye sighed. Even with Ray there, he was unwilling to argue with the person holding a gun in their hands. He walked over and picked up one of the boxes, dumped its contents of papers and pens on his bed, and brought it back to the desk to start packing.

His passion project, gone in mere moments. He involuntarily sniffled a few times before putting the last of the electronics into the box.

“Thanks for the birthday gift,” the thresher gloated.

“A-are we good then? No more debt?”

“Unless this is shit, then yeah, I'd rather not see your face again.”

“How can I be sure you won't come back?” Skye pleaded.

“You can't.” He began walking out of Skye's room. Ray followed him close behind.

Some mumbling emanated from the kitchen for a few seconds.

“Well, I'd say it's been a pleasure doing business with the kid,” one of the collectors spoke up, “but it really hasn't. Let's hope none of us ever meet again.”

Skye just stared at the empty desk. He waited until the footsteps exiting his home were no longer audible until he pried his gaze away from the table, joining his friends outside his room.

Ray walked out the front door, keeping distance from the thugs, but keeping a close eye on them nonetheless. Skye watched as he stood on the sidewalk for almost a whole minute, posing menacingly with his machine gun. Eventually, he walked back inside, shutting and locking the door.

Skye sat down on one of the dining room chairs, resting his forehead in his palm, taking a pair of long, deep breaths. Wrench took off their shoes and sat down on a chair beside him, Ray stood next to the front door with his firearm tucked under his coat, and Janice was standing by the edge of the living room with a fist against her mouth.

“Geez,” she mumbled, looking over Skye and Wrench.

“I'm just... I'm just so glad you're alive, Skye,” Wrench sniveled. “But... all this is over now, right?”

“I think so.” Skye was choked up, straining to get each word out.

“Skye?” Cassandra peeped from her room. “Can I come out?”

“Y-yeah,” he stuttered.

Out stepped Cass, looking all manners of confused. “Skye... what happened? What's going on? Are we safe?”

Skye nodded slowly. “We're safe,” he whispered. “I need a shower. Then I'll tell you everything.”

Cassandra walked over and hugged him.