I drunkenly meandered my way to Octavio Square out of my gourd on ludicrously expensive champagne. There were still four to six hours before any important politicking would occur, and while that wasn't a lot of time to get my shit together before my mission-critical meeting, I, uh…

Okay, so I didn't have a follow up to that thought yet, but I could improvise. More importantly, this was one of those rare occasions where I was fully in tune with all aspects of my personality. Back at the Hartwood, my tripartite selves, as in Me, James, and Alan, had all metaphorically turned to one another and said in unison, 'Man, I could really use a drink. How about you?' I had to listen to them. Who were we to deny ourselves an earnest plea?

The restaurant kept rows of bottles with gold foil on top to go with their overpriced steaks, but only a few with solid gold wire. After 'getting lost' on the way to the bathrooms and disabling all the cameras I could see with telekinetic shoves, I scarpered to the very top of the wine rack, grabbed one at random, and left via a convenient skylight. The bottle was enormous, a jeroboam Annie had called it, and was from some vineyard that had burned down during the French Revolution. She said it was listed on the bottle service menu at a jaw-dropping forty-five thousand dollars. Evidently, their idea of theft protection, beyond the fact that it was a heavy, four-liter glass bottle, was the large, wooden ladder that took two people to carry out from the basement, the only in-house method available to bring it down. Frankly, they were asking to be robbed; I could think of more than a dozen people in the city capable of doing a one-armed descent from that height. If you thought about it, I was doing them a favor with this security audit.

Annie got cold feet on actually seeing the champagne, but I told her that we were either sharing some drinks from it or I was chucking it off the roof for the crime of stiffing my senior student. I wasn't against luxury and having nice things, or even spending frivolously, something I did all the time, but stealing tips from your employees as a millionaire was grotesquery. That was the sort of Greed that deserved its own Circle of Hell.

I'd returned downstairs for two glasses and then twice more to get the bucket, kosher salt, ice, and water to chill the champagne appropriately, as per Annie's instructions. "It costs as much as a muscle car, James; we're going to do this right," she had said, putting her foot down. There was some confusion amongst the bored staff about why the cameras were suddenly facing the walls or directly up at their mounts. But the theft itself had gone unnoticed, so I leisurely took my time, coming down again for snacks while we waited for the bottle to cool.

Neither of us had meant to drink as much as we had, but the company was good and the wine tasty. It was easy to pass the time with Annie, chitchatting about the industry, gossiping about our peers, and just talking about nothing at all. I told myself after the fourth glass that, no, actually, I wasn't drinking irresponsibly; I was intentionally destressing after a brutally long day. By my reckoning, arriving at the meeting with the Cranes tonight a little drunk would only sell my image as a Happy Idiot better. No sir, don't gotta worry about me - I'm but a loose goose, day drunk and silly off the juice. The only reason I'd cut us off before we'd dusted the whole thing had been the intense spike of undirected killing desire from below, a sure sign that someone who cared had noticed the missing bottle.

I had become very good, very quickly, at ignoring homicidal wishes. Funikugami had obviously granted me the power to drive me mad or twist me to his way of thinking, and so out of spite, I had adapted. They had become like the drone of cicadas in the summer to me, loud but ultimately so ever-present and constant that it became background noise. People wanted to kill each other all the time; that was just what they did. There was no harm in wanting to kill someone – that was the difference between intent and desire. What I had felt from below, though, was like an air horn through the noise, too sudden and violent to ignore. It was time to leave.

Annie had been seen leaving the premises on camera, and while what I had done, wandering about while the cameras all failed one-by-one, was incredibly suspicious, I was an incompetent fool, incapable of such guile. But, sooner or later, someone would, in their panic or because Augusta was haranguing them, come up to check the roof for evidence. So, I sent Annie off with the glasses and silverware and swept up a little with my sash, pausing only to impulsively fire the champagne bottle like a cannon down into the engine block of the Mercedes sitting in the Hartwood's reserved alleyway parking spot.

I giggled, thinking about that insurance claim and dodging a bus by inches. To work off the alcohol, I'd walked to Octavio Square in the middle of the road, weaving through traffic with my Innocuous Oaf in full swing. When the congestion got too bad and the cars too slow to be fun, I took breaks by picking up and petting extremely confused pigeons. I stole men's wallets and phones and returned them to different pockets. I stopped by a book vendor eating chicken and rice from the halal cart nearby, purchased two of the same meal, and stood over him, slowly replacing what he ate until he finally noticed, made the sign of the cross, and started praying. It was a fifteen-minute walk.

My phone buzzed and I almost pulled it out to check but caught myself at the last minute. I wagged a finger at the sky, "No, no, no. Not getting me twice in the same day, you bastards."

Vaulting over an oncoming taxi, I sensibly walked out of the middle of the road to the sidewalk, and then checked my phone. This one was going to survive for at least a week, maybe two, if miracles were possible.

Cory had texted me ten minutes ago. I must have missed it while trying to surf on top of that truck.

'eyyy ima be late'

'plug problems lol'

The new one read,

'where you at? tryna get you fitted b'

I sighed; the fun was over. Also, scrolling up, I realized that Cory had disabled the auto-capitalization feature in his messaging app; that annoyed me for reasons I couldn't place.

My metabolism, powered by Fire-Qi and my supernatural Endurance, kicked into overdrive to burn off some of the booze in my blood. A little drunk was fine for a meeting with triads; ten to twelve drinks in was not.

Looking around for one last lark before I had to drop my Stealth and get serious, I spotted an elderly Asian panhandler with a dirty face, matted hair, and a scraggly beard lying on his side chewing tobacco. He had two bowls in front of him, one for his spit and the other for cash, and a battered old crutch at his side. I shrugged and walked over to drop a few hundred dollars on top of the handful of change he'd collected and a few pigeon feathers to make it look like the money had come from a particularly generous bird. My only problem with giving panhandlers money wasn't what they would do with it—I gave no shits about that—it was receiving the obsequious gratitude. I still did it when I could, but being thanked so profusely for so little made me feel icky; luckily, the Innocuous Oaf was perfect for that. Or, it should have been, at least.

"Yaaaah! You're too, too kind, boy," he said in Mandarin as I turned to walk away. "And some feathers too! How'd ya know I collected those?"

I paused and pointed at my face. "Er, are you talking to me?" My Stealth effect was still up unless I was too drunk to notice.

"Who else just gave me money and feathers?"

"You can…notice me?" I asked dumbly, wobbling on my feet a bit. Hopefully my metabolism could pick it up a bit.

He spat out some of his chew. "Man, you're really drunk, huh? I like that. I'm drunk too."

"Oh, nice. Yeah, I stole some champagne from a lady and threw the bottle through her car. It was a blast," I admitted, taking him for a man who would appreciate such shenanigans. "Sorry to bother you, but are you really sharp, or are you using a technique to see through my Stance? It's new, you see, and I don't know its limits yet."

"That's your Stance, huh? I thought maybe the Pigeon Queen taught you one of the Hobo Arts. She likes to bounce around between here, New York and Philadelphia."

"Hobo Arts?"

The old man looked pained. "Chyah! What are they teaching you kids? Well, no bother, no bother. Tell you what, ride the rails with me for a few months and I'll train you up in all the North American Hobo Arts." He slapped his knee and laughed. "The Hobo Emperor will hate that! Pah, arrogant shit!"

I put my hands up. "Ah, that's very kind, but I'm afraid the train hobo lifestyle isn't for me." Jabbing my chest with my thumb, I proclaimed, "I'm James Li, the youxia of this city. If anyone's harassing the homeless, you feel free to reach out to me."

He threw his head back and laughed hard and long until spittle was flying out from between his cracked teeth, and he was all but wheezing in pain. I didn't think it was that funny.

"Is that right?" he asked, wiping the tears from his eyes. "Well, I'll be damned, a youxia. What century is it, eh? That's good to hear though. The Wheels a'turning. We got the same family name too, ain't that a kick." He dismissed me with a wave of his hand. "Get on then – I won't keep you from yer heroic duties."

I gave him a bow, unsure why, but it felt like the right thing to do. "Thank you, and, uh, good luck with being a hobo. I hope to see you around, uncle."

"Live long enough and you might." He spat into his bowl, and reached a hand into his voluminous ratty jacket. "Here, take this for your collection - be kicking yourself when ya figure out where's it from. Call it a trade."

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

It was a small, red feather, no longer than my thumbnail. There was a Qi residue of some kind and something faintly familiar about it, but if it was special beyond that, I couldn't tell. I pocketed it to be polite and bowed once more before leaving. Cory and a few girls I recognized from high school were by the fountain in the middle of the square.

There was the sound of wings flapping nearby, as though a pigeon had passed directly behind my head, but having just spent some time pseudo-harassing the birds, I ignored it and kept walking.

"t'was pretty funny, by the way," said a voice in my ear. "Never seen someone fight to give away one of the Peaches before. Had us all dying – that'll be a thousand-year story. I'm going to go trade it for some treats while it's still fresh."

My heart rate tripled, and my stomach did flips. I spun around, but there was no one there; the man was gone, as I knew he would be. His spit from where he'd missed his jar was still thankfully there, so at least I knew it hadn't all been in my head.

"Fuck, I can't handle this right now, man." I groaned. "Did he say 'us'?"

Had I seen that man before? How many beggars had I passed—No. I shook my head and gave myself a few hard slaps. There was no time in my day to worry about this or even properly register what had happened, if I was being honest. Was it colder all of a sudden? It must have been because I was shivering something fierce. "Head in the game, James. You grill, you chill. You grill, you chill."

Cory Ning and I had known each other forever, too long for us not to be friends, as unfortunate as that often was. I didn't remember the first time we met, but it must have been at neighborhood parties or a daycare because we were already hanging out first day of elementary school. Cory had a lot of positive qualities that kept him around in various circles; he was a high-energy social butterfly, was always happy to see you, never had a mean thing to say, and was overwhelmingly generous, like a labrador puppy in a man's body. He was also an unreliable dumbass.

Though, to be fair, we hadn't hung out since my twenty-first birthday and not regularly since high school, so there was a chance he'd grown up since I'd seen him. It had effectively been years, and a lot of change could happen in that time, especially in one's late teens, early twenties.

"What's good, Cory?" I said, dropping my Stealth once I was behind him. "Hey, Jewel and, uh, Meredith, right?"

The girls jumped a little; Cory did not. He had a look of surprise, but his body stayed calm. He didn't even tense his muscles, just turned and gave me a hug. "Yo! What up, big sexy? Daaaaaamn, dog, you been mewing or some shit? Haha! Look at you, fuckin' killing it, bruh. You been making everything gains."

I smiled, fighting back a sigh and relying heavily on the Happy Idiot to maintain decorum. There would be so much more of this tonight. "Thanks, man. I noticed some new muscles under those clothes too. Someone's been training."

"Ah, shit, ain't nothing like what you do. Best believe that. I been watching your videos with that fire shawty, bruh! Yo," he slapped me on the shoulder, "you and her got mad chemistry, and what's crazy is she doesn't even seem mean at all. That's big, big gains for you, J-boy! Known you your whole life and I ain't never seen you date a girl who isn't real fucking mean to you." He shook his head in amazement, genuinely proud of me. I hated when he was genuine; it made it impossible to be upset with him.

"Oh my god, Cory, can you not?" said the blue-haired girl with him.

Jewel pushed Cory aside, nearly into the fountain, and wrapped herself around my arm, molding into my side. She was barely recognizable from all the pharmaceutical and surgical enhancements she'd had done; her breasts were bigger, her lips fuller, her cheekbones more pronounced, her nose no longer bent from breaking it that one time in parkour, and even her eyes had been color-changed to a crystalline blue to match her hair. At least it was quality work. I could have believed her to be God's gift to Black Harbor if I didn't know what she'd looked like before. "Hey, James. Guess who's your dates tonight? Don't worry, we volunteered. Come here, Edie."

Jewel beckoned to the other girl who I only vaguely recalled from high school. Edie, to my surprise, went for a confident handshake. "Hi! You were really close by the way, I'm Edith Mann. Meredith was the other tall, blonde Jewish girl in our year."

"Oh shit, I'm sorry."

She laughed. "It's okay! You aren't the first to get us mixed up. The names, the looks – it used to happen constantly. You and your sister saved me from getting bullied once, I don't know if you recall."

I tried unsuccessfully to remember, but Crystal and I had used any opportunity we could to practice our martial arts in school. "Honestly, I don't at all. You'd have to be a lot more specific."

"You pinned a man to the wall with your foot and told him he'd be able to count his teeth on one hand if you caught him at it again."

I shook my head slowly. "I think I used that line kind of a lot."

Cory chimed in, "It was a go-to, for sure."

"Your sister suplexed his girlfriend—"

"Through a water fountain!" I shouted. "Yes, now I remember. That so sick. How you been? You were like a big brain, weren't you? Figure you'd be getting a second PhD or something, not hanging out with these two. No offense, Jewel."

"None taken, babe." She shrugged, doing interesting things to her breasts pressing against my arm.

Edith smiled. "You have Cory to thank. I moved back home while applying for research and chemistry PhD positions when Cory managed to headhunt me for HuaGen. When you confirmed you'd be coming to opening night, he remembered that I used to have a big crush on you and texted me if I'd like to come with. It's technically his early birthday present to me." She giggled and nervously played with her hair. My bullshit-Geiger counter started clicking up. "I hope that's not awkward; you wouldn't mind if I accompanied you, would you? I promise to be a well-behaved, perfect lady."

"And I promise to be a messy slut," added Jewel, much more believably. "We're going for a fire and ice sort of thing."

"Shit, a date with two baddies," I said, grinning to the clatter of dice as I rolled my Empathy + Insight. "How could I turn that down?"

In actuality, this was raising huge red flags. One, this was obviously a honeytrap. Two, Edith Mann was probably here to show me that there were more to the Cranes than just gangsters. But the problem with that was, Three, Edie was not nearly as good at subterfuge as she thought, nor was she good enough to pull one over on me. I had worked in the film industry for long enough to spot when a girl was doing her makeup to look quietly pretty and when she was trying to make a splash at a big event, such as a high-end nightclub opening, for example. She shouldn't have tried to improvise that early birthday present line. It didn't call her whole story into question, but there was deception afoot.

But I had also meant what I said; I wasn't in the position to walk away.

I did have to raise my estimation of Cory, though. Incredibly, unless I was mistaken, he had headhunted Edith for HuaGen, a biotech firm in the Greenbelt – she hadn't been lying there, according to my Insight. It wasn't strange that they knew each other; I could assume they'd met through party or drug circles. Some of the biggest Adderall fiends on the planet were stressed college kids. Besides, Cory's real superpower was that he wasn't just my most annoying friend, he was everyone's most annoying friend. No, what was crazy was that Cory fucking Ning, lifelong dipshit was in a position where he could headhunt research positions for chemists. What the hell?

And he was running games on me! Double what the hell?! What else could I call this – I mean, he was clearly taking the lead on the honeypot plan. The Cranes could have waited until I was at the club, but they'd instead given the task to Cory. They'd been right to as well; had I been solely the twenty-two-year-old James Li that he had known, this might have worked. He had brought two girls, both of whom I already knew to some extent and hadn't seen in a while, which meant that I couldn't blow them off without feeling like an asshole. One of them, Jewel was the sort of woman he had known me to date, very fit, with a great body, and a slightly prickly personality. And the other, Edith was what he probably imagined Annie to be like, a clean-cut college graduate who, I was pretty sure, had been told to play up the girl-next-door vibes.

Who was I kidding? This absolutely would have worked on me.

Goddamn it! Cory Ning, my old friend, was running an op on me! That idiot. That dummy. That stupid motherfucker. Was he trying to get himself hurt? We weren't kids anymore. I could, would, and frequently did, forgive a lot from him, but this was different. This was the Underworld. He was a member of the Crane Triad, and I was a youxia. I'd punch a hole through his chest if it came down to it.

"Thank you," said Edith, blushing. "May I take your other arm then?"

I extended it out to her, pulling her tight to me as she approached. Nine Successes on the Seduction – she had no idea what she was in for. None of them did. "My arm and more," I said with a wink. She looked amused at the audacity but ready to play along.

Cory held his hands out wide and beamed. "Y'all ready to get dripped out? We about to drop bands on 'em."

"Sure. As long as you're paying, man."