The money was inside.

I sighed a deep breath of relief and looked at the dark, cloudy sky. Thank God I won’t owe him….

The thought of owing Akash anything was terrifying.

Alex shrugged to ask if it was there. I replied with a nod.

Alex half squealed and hugged me again, something that was welcome this time around.

“Where to?” Alex asked.

I paused. I didn’t know the “where to,” but I knew the “where not”—the Marriott. Sickle culture was fast and loose, and I didn’t have a problem getting laid—I had a problem with getting laid.

“You just wanna go on a walk?” I asked.

“Sure,” she said.

We walked, moving deep into the heart of the Seattle city streets, watching our shadows wax and wane as we walked past street lamps on the way near Pioneer Square—which was one of the only zones available to us. When we were passing, we listened to the rambunctious soldiers regaling tales of how many stalks they killed during the raid and arguing over how the Beta was killed (as the enlisted were blind to the aetherial attack, and the attack was too fast for any Sickle who wasn’t watching with Sena slowing their world down). I listened for a bit until I couldn’t bear the silence between me and Alex.

“So? What’d you do the last few days?” I asked. It was the only question I seemed to know how to ask women if I wasn’t being bluntly honest.

Alex shrugged and hugged herself. “Same thing I always do… I read in my room.”

“Wait,” I said, furrowing my brow, “you mean after you leave the Square?” Even on the days we weren’t playing poker, Alex was always at Pioneer Square with some friend group or another. I knew because I never missed a game of poker.

Alex’s eyes widened, and she looked away. “Yeah, after. But with you gone, there wasn’t a…” Judging by her panicked face, she was clearly going to say a reason to go there, which left me shocked and confused.

There has never been a person who has perplexed me as much as Alex Marsh. As I’ve already mentioned, when I met her, she was a pretty, rich seventeen-year-old with long hair, pearly white teeth, and a soft voice that was careful about the general sensitivity of what she said—a blunt survival mechanism in Seattle’s corporate culture. Now, she had a buzzed haircut and panty-length denim shorts that exposed 100% of her Lep C scales over her inner thighs from where she was bitten. What I didn’t tell you was that she started doing that because Breathers and Sickles alike started calling her “fish vag” when they learned she was scaling on her inner thigh, so she started wearing shorts. Then it stretched, so she cut the shorts. It stretched again, so she cut them again. And then it stretched and stretched and stretched, so she cut and cut and cut until she was wearing denim panties. Now, she probably had six months before whatever was gonna happen was gonna happen—assuming the scaling continued upward.

It was sad as fuck.

Now, if what she was saying was true, I was dealing with a book-reading shut-in that was going to Pioneer Square to be near me—and that just made me sadder. ‘Cause even if she was a saintly virgin who loved me dearly, I couldn’t have sex with her even if I wanted to. My body worked, but my mind wouldn’t let me have sex with Sickles. Not anymore. The pain and anxiety ruined the mood.

“Alex…” I said.

“You don’t need to say it,” Alex said. “I just don’t want to regret not saying something… again. I thought you were dead, Kei.” She started crying again, wiping her eyes. “A-And I couldn’t handle that, a-and I was afraid to go to Pioneer Square because… I just… didn’t feel safe anymore. I-I always felt safe with you there… and now…”

I was confused. “Why?”

“’Cause you cared. A-And you were strong. A-And you were nice.”

“I was the one that put up attachment restrictions.”

“Because you need them…” Alex laughed almost mockingly. “Remember when Becca got cornered?”

I looked away. “I didn’t do shit but take a beating.”

“But you stood up, and if they would’ve continued… you would’ve fought back. And they knew that.”

“Just stop… I get it. But it kinda sucks when you think of me like a guard do—“

“No no!” Her eyes filled with panic. “I-I said I couldn’t go to Pioneer Square because I didn’t feel safe, but I couldn’t handle you dying for other reasons.”

Thinking back, that was actually what she said.

“Kei… I fell for you a month after I met you. So what? Like… a year and a—”

“Just… stop. I can’t handle this… You remember Isse, right? When she—“

“Please don’t talk about other women,” she pleaded.

“We’re feeling the same emotion right now,” I laughed, rubbing my face. “I can’t handle it. You can’t handle it. That’s just the way it is. Besides… I’m not the person that you think I am. I’m not a good person… I’m a total prick.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is.”

“Then I don’t care.”

My lungs seized as she kept walking toward me with small steps. I wanted to stop her, but I didn’t want to flat-out reject someone brave enough to confess. Yet again, I was put into a lose-lose situation with a woman. And, once again, I was saved in the most brutal way imaginable.

“Yo, Kei!”

My blood instantly boiled. I turned and saw David Chen, a pretty boy with a diamond earring and a smile so straight that it made me want to pull my fist back and turn it into shrapnel. It wasn’t jealousy (though I’m not immune); it was because he almost got me killed.

I stopped walking, and Alex grabbed my arm.

That made David smile further. “I’m surprised you could lay a girl like that after Maggie.”

2

Alex looked away when she heard David imply that I slept with another woman, but I didn’t have the emotional capacity to care about her enigmatic—or perhaps suddenly brazen—feelings for me. My chest inflated, and the cool, damp air I inhaled boiled in my lungs like dripped water on a skillet. This was the man who set me up on the “date” with Maggie.

“Did you tell her it was a date?” I asked coldly.

David’s eyes lit up, and his mouth twisted into an open grin. “Seriously?”

His friends chuckled awkwardly. Then, they turned to each other with a silent pause before bursting into laughter.

“That face is juicy,” David said, exchanging a grin with his friends.

“What are they talking about?” Alex asked.

I ignored her. I didn’t lead her on or ask for her emotions or even accept her feelings. I did everything I could to avoid them, so I didn’t even register her as I continued. “Just answer me,” I demanded.

“Did I say it was a ‘date’?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Hmmm?” he hummed. “I don’t… think so. But she might’ve interpreted it like that. What did I say? ‘I got a soldier friend… super good looking, decent personality… and he can get you into Sickle land. He’d make for a good date this Friday if you’re not busy.”

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His friends exchanged glances, and one said Ohhhhhh with his fist over his mouth before laughing and slapping David on his shoulder. I wasn’t amused. I spread my fingers as far as they could, spread them until they stretched, trying not to ball my fists. “So you knew?” I asked. “That she’s a Sickle lover?”

“A SAINT?” David grinned. “Oh, yeah. It’s a really bad look for her father, so I figured I’d let ‘er go on a date with one. See if she could stomach it. You know?”

I bobbed my head and took a deep breath, taking a step backward to prevent myself from knocking those purty teeth out. SAINT was Seattle Activists for Integrity and National Transparency. It was an illegal, pro-Sickle organization of people seeking Sickle rights. So David threw an illegal activist into a hot zone with a Sickle. If she got caught any time in the future, I’d be the one to blame.

“So you wanted to get me killed?” I asked. “Are you a fucking sadist?”

“Sadist?” David laughed. “Nah, man, it’s the opposite. I wanted Maggie to wake up, so I paid someone to make it happen. If you think I’d just pay you 350 greens to be an escort… you’re out of your fucking mind.”

I clenched my fists. I knew there was a catch—but I imagined it was just the risk of humiliating a Breather. But I was the top performer, and I never got into trouble, so I doubted the military would actually strike back over a minor misperception. I couldn’t have imagined that Maggie was a big deal or a pro-Sickle activist—and he knew that. He fucked me good.

“So?” David asked. “How was the ‘date?’”

“I’m not telling you shit.”

“Oh, yes you are. It was part of the bargain.”

“No. It wasn’t.”

“It is now.” David’s friends took a step forward, just enough to get the point across. Sickles can’t fight back—so a mere threat’s enough to send a message.

“Really?” I took a deep, long, angry, furious, blinding fucking hated-fueled breath, feeling all the rage and ire I built up in that courtroom, and on that boat, and in that mess hall and everything else, and I said:

“Well, I’ll tell you how it went. By the end of it—“

A black man wearing a long white shirt and a mid-bald fade suddenly walked between us, shoulder-checking David and sending him flying onto the ground. Then he stopped and turned to David with an agape mouth filled with disdain. “Watch it, bitch.” He cast a threatening glance at David’s friends and then kept walking.

David lost his voice, but it returned a moment later. “What the fuck was that?” David yelled.

The man stopped and turned back. “What’d chu say, homie?”

It was the way he said “homie.” It often meant friend, but there was pure violence woven into the word, laced like poison, turning it into a weapon. His posture, position—everything. This man wasn't raised in Bellvue like Anisha—he was from a rough neighborhood.

David didn't catch that immediately. He stood and looked at his friends and back at the man. “You just checked me, and you’re seriously gonna tell me to watch it?”

“Oh.” The man nodded a few times and then started walking forward. “You’re actin’ hard, huh?”

David’s pretty face paled, and he took two steps back.

“Huh?” The man pushed David’s chest. “Huh?” he repeated. One of the friends stepped forward, so the man turned to him and said. “You want some of this, homie? Huh?” They backed up, and he pushed David again.

Alex grabbed and hugged my arm—and I didn’t blame her. It was petrifying.

“Where’s you from?” the man demanded, glowering at David from overhead. He was at least six inches taller than the Chinese man, who was shrinking back.

“W-What?” David asked.

“I asked where’s you from.”

“B-Bellevu—“

“Not where you were born, homie. Not where you went to school, homie. I wanna know where you piss—homie. ‘Cause if you’s actin’ hard, I wanna know where my bitch’s at after I mop the floor with your ass.”

David yielded immediately, putting up his hands. “Woah… Sorry, man. I didn’t mean to start shit.”

“Oh, now you ain’t about it.” The man turned to me next. “The fuck you lookin’ at?”

Alex gripped my arm, and I put up my free hand. “I just didn’t want to run and cause drama, so I was waiting for a moment to leave. That’s all.”

“Oh, you’re a smart one, ain’tcha?”

His eyes were cold as ice.

“Just honest,” I said. “And confused.”

He studied Alex carefully and then looked at the Dark Scale on her inner thigh, making her clam up. Then he looked back at me. “Better fuck your girl ‘fore that shit gets too close. Can’t imagine that’s too comfortable.”

Alex’s eyes welled with tears and I couldn’t defend her. So I just nodded. “Okay.”

“I don’t know what it is,” he said, narrowing his eyes, “but something ‘bout your face feels wrong to me. And I don’t like that. So you best not show it ‘round here again, ‘cause if I see it, I’ll be liable to fix it. Got it?”

I swallowed, feeling a sharp pang in my guts. Pioneer Square was my home, and once probation ran out, I’d live there again. I’d rather pay this man protection money like the Yakuza than stay away. It was that bad.

“Got it?” he asked chillingly.

I nodded. “Got it.”

“Now fuck off,” he said, flicking his wrist.

We complied, walking as fast as we could, but I didn’t get fifty feet before I felt an abnormal gust of aether and turned, looking into dead space, and I would’ve sworn that I felt Lady Wraith. I felt a certain sensation when fighting her, and I felt it at that moment. That’s the only explanation. And while I’ve never asked what happened that night, ‘cause I tended to avoid memories concerning my impulsiveness or stupidity, I felt she was watching me, waiting to intervene if necessary, like a dark guardian angel—an angel of death—stalking me like prey, whispering softly, “It’s not yet time.”

2

From Tyrell Scott’s Audio Record, May 31st, 2027

Start Time: 2058

Scott: It’s done.

Kensington: Why’d you intervene?

Scott: ‘Cause brother man was about to talk about how he almost laid that Breather.

Kensington: (pauses and takes a deep breath) What a fucking idiot. I can’t believe he was starting shit after all this.

Scott: Startin’ shit? What chu expect him to do? It’s not like he hadda choice.

Kensington: He’s not supposed to be anywhere near here.

Scott: Where’s he supposed to be? In his bedroom? It’s not like anyone’s given the man hope. I’m sure if you told ‘em he’s on lock, he’d jerkin’ off in his room no problem. But he ain’t. People tryin’ to kill him, so he’s tryin’ to live. I mean, you saw him with his girl, right? And unless you think he’s gonna lay a girl~like~that at the Mess, you can’t blame ‘em.”

Kensington: (pauses) What do you mean a girl like that?

Scott: Look, I ain’t sayin’ nothin’, ah-ight. All I’m sayin’ is that if you don’t want ‘em to act out, you gotta give ‘em somethin’ to live for.

Kensington: (takes a deep breath and exhales) You think he’ll come back?

Scott: Not here, he won’t.

Kensington: Elsewhere?

Scott: Oh yeah. Brotherman was lookin’ at those cards like a fiend. I’m tellin’ ya, Major. You want that man straight? You gotta give ‘em something.

Kensington: (sighs) Just great… I’ll see what I can do.

Scott: Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about.

Kensington: Alright. Get out of here.

Scott: Ah-ight. (walks away, grumbling) Girl’s always actin’ so sensitive.

Kensington: I can hear you.

Scott: I knooooooow. (she pauses, he laughs) Night Major.

Kensington: (sighs) Night.

End Time: 2113

3

Alex and I walked back to the Marriott—where we both lived—in silence. She grabbed my sleeve before we entered the sea of people sitting out on the deck and pulled my sleeve.

“What?” I sighed.

Alex paused. “What was he talking about?”

I leaned against a lamp post, watching teams of Sickles playing cornhole, a game where there’s a ramp with one hole. They threw hand-sewn sacks of corn—a color for each team—at the hole and kept score based on rules about the sacks on the board and how many went through. Both teams sucked.

I sighed when she pressed with her eyes. “A few weeks past, I made a stupid bet and lost $350 to that prick. I tried to pay, but he stopped me. ‘You can keep it, I gotta job instead.’ That’s what he said. I said no. He said hear me out. I’m an idiot, so I said ‘aight.’ Apparently, there was a Breather named Maggie who wanted to see Pike’s Place. David said he thought it’d be funny if he sent her out with a Sickle to see one in person….” I balled my fists and let go, feeling weak. “And I know he wanted to humiliate her kinda. But fuck it, you know? She’s a Breather, and there wasn’t anything illegal about it. All I had to do was make it clear that it wasn’t a date, be professional, avoid the topic, and disappear. Citizens aren’t that bad. There’s the rivens, but the rest of ‘em wouldn’t just kill someone cause they were a Sickle, ‘specially if they weren’t duped. You know?”

Alex gripped her forearms, looking at the ground. I thought she’d say she didn’t or keep silent, but she said, “Yeah,” and nodded.

“So I went…” Red team scored a hole on cornhole. The blue team got flustered. “Shit almost got me killed. The girl tried to get into Pier Zero. Then she waved around Daddy’s influence and got me off, but she dragged me to Cutters for lunch. I tried to refuse—she made me. Then, that stalk crashed through the window. I killed it. She found out I was a Sickle—almost puked—and I got pissed and left. The end.”

Alex nodded to the ground.

“See?” I said. “I’m a prick… and unless you’re blind, you can see that I can’t protect you.”

Alex looked up with wide eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“Huh?”

“You know how fucked up that is?” Alex asked. “That meeting us is a humiliating event? Meeting you? I mean, she thought it was a date, right? So it’s not like it was a bad experience. If she got humiliated, that’s her problem. For three fifty, I would’ve done the same… if I were you. Of course.” Her anger flared and disappeared, meek, showcasing her fear and anxiety. “As for what happened earlier… the fuck’re we supposed to do?” she asked, tears streaming down her cheeks. “We can’t fight back. People are dicks… There’s nothing we can do about it. That isn’t your fault, and I don’t actually expect you to protect me. I just love that you want to… and you know that. We both know that’s not what you’re trying to say, so just say it, Kei.”

Blue team made a comeback and won in the background. Red team stormed off. I rubbed my face. “It’s not you, Alex,” I said. “I just… can’t. Not after Isse… After that, I… can’t even make friends. Friends die.”

Alex bit her lip and nodded. “Yeah.”

“But I’ll be your friend,” I said. “Your real friend… Attached.”

Alex looked up at me with these hopeful, puffy, bloodshot eyes, these ugly, horrible, beautiful eyes, and said. “Really?”

And I nodded and hugged her. “Yeah. I promise.”

I knew that would cause me trouble later down the line—becoming friends with someone always did. Still, I would be lying if I said that I wouldn’t be devastated when Trent and Angel and Randy and Alex died. It’s impossible not to. And while I’d never have romantic feelings for Alex—and never did—I would protect her the best I can. That’s just part of being a human. Or, that was just part of who I was. All I could hope at that point was that I wasn’t put into that position. Because if I was, things would get complicated—fast.