{Earth | Seven Months Ago}

The rain overnight dampened the fires Lucy and Matt set the day before. Smoke and cooked bone permeated her hair and clothes. It made her snuggle closer to him. Trace her fingers across his bare chest. Brush his fringe from his face.

He was a heavy sleeper. He didn’t notice she dressed and laid back down for these last moments. To commit him to her perfect nacre memory.

Lucy would miss Matt, but she knew this was best for them.

In that bunker under the D.C. Cult of Night compound, they finished the head Justice. Matt crushed the man’s skull per usual while Lucy cut him open. It was perfect, as always.

Until her lover looked at her that way.

A way he’d come to look at her lately. Usually after a solid win. A mixture of sex, respect, and curiosity.

Which of them would survive the other?

Fleeting, it always left quickly. But it punched her in the heart. For all Lucy understood of Matt and him of her, she couldn’t fathom this one fascination with hunting her. She didn’t fit his preference for a target, and he would never fit hers. Only men like Justice Lee, the leader of her first compound, fit hers.

Even so, the last few CoN take downs ended this way.

Lucy knew what to do. She set aside provisions, wrote him a note, and kissed him goodbye. It hurt her to miss their morning sex routine. To miss sex with him for however long it took. For them, it was a cleansing after all the dirtiness they collected working undercover. A blazing fire and each other’s arms. Fresh to start again.

She would get clean somehow without him. And he without her.

Some promoter diaries from the last three compounds implied CoN was involved in human-trafficking. They gathered humans from around the country, forced a nacre on them, and shuttled them off to the Vast Collective. The Pennsylvanian compound acted as the auction block.

Naturally blond with blue eyes and pretty features, everyone wanted Lucy. It lured her targets to her. After three days of hitchhiking, she finally happened upon the “wrong” ride. Tricked, bamboozled, caught completely unawares—the damsel found herself in distress at the mercy of the Pennsylvanian compound. Yes, the lead Justice needed to “examine her” alone.

When he breathed on her, Lucy smelled Lee’s mustard breath. When he straightened her perfectly postured and naked shoulders, she recalled Lee’s dirty fingernails. When he stared into her eyes, she ducked her gaze shyly. Lee liked that about her. They all liked that about her.

Lucy learned to be apart from her body. Men and women often touched her. Tested her ability to remain in the persona. She never failed.

Declaring her suitable for intergalactic travel, they shipped her off with the next haul to Reipon. She read of the planet during the human-Icarean war. She never imagined it as beautiful. Mansions and castles all alongside one another like average neighborhoods on Earth. Beaches and palm trees. White-sand deserts. And two suns in a green sky.

It was awe-inspiring.

They put Lucy to work in porn. Not acting. Not yet. That required training. She mostly fetched things. Food, toys, equipment. Oh, and cleanup. It was like the worst and best internship ever. She learned so much she couldn’t wait to try on Matt. But therein lie the problem. Constantly surrounded by sex, she thought of him often. And it hurt. It hurt in places she never imagined.

If only she’d cut out that patch of freckles to keep with her. She’d settle for a lock of his auburn hair—

“Hey, Lemonade.”

Lucy stopped humming, feigned a startle, and dropped the Enki tablets. The bipedal Lamia who often directed and starred in the films kindly retrieved the items. “Sorry about that.”

While ducking her gaze in deference, she wondered what his blood looked like. “Thank you, sir.”

“I only wanted to come over and tell you what a good job you’re doing.” He crouched down to catch her gaze and stared back at her with black and blue reptilian eyes. “You’re quicker to orientate yourself to this life. Usually the Earth girls are still caught in the wonder of a new planet.”

Slaves. Earth slaves. “Thank you, sir. How long before you usually ask them to participate?”

He frowned. “We don’t. Not unless you want to. I realize your circumstances for coming to my house are less than favorable, but I have no non-consensual intentions toward you. You’re safe here, Lemonade.”

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What a strange nickname. Lucy hugged herself to appear smaller. “I might feel safer if I knew someone’s name.” She knew all their names, titles, and networks. But they didn’t know that.

“Iuo.” He put his hand out, palm up.

She timidly placed hers on top. “I’m Lucy. Nice to meet you.”

“Keep up the good work.” He smiled before adding, “And you have a nice voice. I enjoy hearing you sing around the sets.”

Lucy beamed at him, and he turned red. He walked away awkwardly, as if his body coiled around a tail that wasn’t there.

Weeks transpired before Iuo approached her again. She was cleaning up after set clear, and he returned for a drink he left behind. He caught her singing in her chores. Some Icarean song. He stopped in his tracks and listened for a moment. Lucy felt him when he entered the room before she turned around and “yipped” in false surprise. Then she blushed all over.

Men found this endearing.

Iuo smiled as if impressed while he crossed the room to retrieve his drink. The muscles in his body moved differently from any humanoid species she studied until now. They rolled as one rather than bunching independently. “Lemonade, have you considered singing professionally? Your voice has serious range.”

Lucy put her fist over her nacre and bowed to him. “I appreciate your compliment—”

“What are you doing here?” He cried abruptly, sounding upset. A little panicked, even.

She looked up from her formal gesture to find him acting outside her expectations. The man looked scared. Innocently, Lucy peered around the room as if looking for someone else before pretending to realize he meant her. “I’m—I’m sorry?”

Iuo stepped closer and whispered against her ear, “You’re with the Shadow. How did you get here?”

Cover blown, but perhaps she found an ally. Lucy placed her hand on his shoulders for leverage as she stretched on her tiptoes to reach his ear hole. “Take me some place secure, and I’ll tell you.”

He did. She did. Mostly.

In the small tech closet that operated his entire mansion, Iuo sat with his elbows on his knees and steepled his hands against his mouth. After a tense moment of calming himself down, he asked, “Do you have any idea how much danger you put yourself in? There are people in the vice industries who would kill to have an ‘in’ with the Progeny.”

Lucy slid to her knees at his feet. She reached for his hands, entreating him. “I want these people. And I can eliminate your competition. Please help me make the Vast Collective a safer place.”

Pretty. Talented. Convincing.

Iuo caved like so many before him. Within the month, they auditioned and hired guitarists and a drummer willing to reach her grandeur. She chose the Rayne and Nox story for emulation. It was a theme she picked up from Iuo’s filming storyboards. Full of romantics, apparently the Vast Collective shipped the two fighters to fanaticism.

Night Rayne was born. Murder on stage was their niche. They aspired for greatness. And they met it.

The first concert fed her with adrenaline and the overwhelming yearning for her and Matt’s post take down ritual. Dressed in a provocative rendition of Rayne’s battle armor, Lucy walked onstage with ample muscle and freshly dyed hair. She liked the singing. Liked the crowd singing with her. But mostly she liked the men who looked at her with their eyes glazed over like Justice Lee. They wanted their hands on her. And for one song, she let them entertain the fantasy.

Then Lucy busted her fist into her choice victim’s chest and ripped out his nacre. Swallowed it. Purred with it on the way down. Let the microphone pick up the sound.

It was loud in the silent arena. No one moved. Some didn’t even breathe. Until she picked up the last chorus of the song, and the audience roared for more.

After the first show, the bassist warned her that the man Lucy killed was some Caprent that frequented a place called Razor’s Emporium of Exotic Experiences. And after he told her more, Lucy knew she found the perfect target.

Every one of Razor’s operations from the underground death matches to the pain establishments employed hundreds across the Vast Collective. She only needed to convert one from each installation, and everyone wanted to work a Night Rayne show.

Meanwhile, Lucy never doubted Matt hunted her. She sought connections to ensure a trail for him to follow. Promotional material that spanned the Twelve Worlds. She selected big name vice barons on the VIP lists—they never bought tickets—for the finale. Their deaths guaranteed Night Rayne a spotlight in the media for Matt to find her.

Man or woman, the targets always touched Lucy’s hair, breasts, and hips. Ground against her. With their eyes and their smirks, they promised they were different from the others. This time, they were “Rayne’s” happily ever after. And every one of them looked shocked when she ate their nacres. Their entitlement amounted to nothing.

Lucy reveled in her own hunt. All the while, rumors circulated of the great Pain Curator threatening to dismantle her niche in the franchise. But he didn’t know that he already lost.

{Gait | Now}

“Puk worked a show for us.” Lucy gestured at the simple drone, who nodded with an enthusiastic grin. “Razor indentured one of his hive-siblings to the Numbered. He wanted a way to help, and I needed an Emporium employee on my crew. Three weeks later, he said Sagan got you hired.”

“I tried to get you into Night Rayne a few times for Morning Star,” Puk explained with a side hug for Lucy. “But you were always focused on Razor and the Seamswalker. Not that I blame you. That entire situation was difficult to stomach.”

Matt stared at Lucy throughout the telling. Not a glimpse of interest in anything but her. She knew what he wanted. He hunted her. Now he found her.

In the long silence, Puk looked at Lucy. Then looked at Matt. The astute drone graciously offered, “I’ll go rescue the other band members.” And hopped off the catwalk to fly up the massive pillars and pylons for the rest of the crew.

Matt’s deep brown eyes always looked vacant until Lucy saw herself reflected in them. He couldn’t feel like others. But around her, he felt something other than murder, and that was close enough to love for her.

He cupped her neck and thumbed her chin. “I missed you.”

Lucy beamed for him. “When we get to some place quiet, I have some things I want to teach—”

Matt kissed her. Hard and long. Squeezing her neck and taking the breath from her. Eventually, he let her breathe, but only to say, “You’re teaching me in this arena. Here on this catwalk. And you’re doing it right now.”

Lucy did.