Valkyrie.

She had quit her job on the spot. She was now a pickpocket, a thief. It paid more. Way more. Why did she ever think that convenience store workers were better? Plus, she feared the corporate man’s return. Who else could’ve stolen his wedding band if not for the one person who got in close? And soon after, she began her new life, honing her newfound craft of theft and clearly harmless robbery.

Connections were everything in this new field of hers. If not for connections, she wouldn’t have been able to sell off the wedding band. She needed fences, data brokers, connections to get her new tools for this new career path. And she was happy. It had everything she had ever wanted—money and nobody to boss her around. She was going to live by her own rules, and she was going to stand up on her own two feet. After all, she had vowed to do just that. She was going to prove her worth no matter what. And for that to happen, she needed to get to the top of whatever this was.

Climb the hierarchy; rule the world.

Through thieving, she made her money. Tons and tons of it. It wasn’t quite enough to settle down, but it was definitely coming close. With no exceptions made, both rich and poor and everyone in between, she finished her heists with only one thing on her mind—Beady.

She even got a few cyber-ups—cybernetic upgrades—along the way. A few small limb enhancements and two pricey duds—Prototype X-Razens. Costing nearly a quarter of a million for just one eye, they were supposed to be the next big thing. Neural as well as optical upgrades that were supposed to have been life changing especially for those with her job description.

These Razens had x-ray functionality with a bunch of other cool little tricks, but all they really did was make her eyesight a little better. The x-ray vision alone required the straining of her eyes, and they only worked in split second intervals.

Complex locks and security systems were out of the questions. At best, those required a few full seconds of undivided attention. At worst, a few minutes to a couple hours. So what were they even useful for? To her? Nothing. It was just a waste of money that she could’ve saved for Beady. But even with all the hiccups, eventually, she finally had enough. She managed to buy a small shack in the very corners of the city where she had first trained her craft.

Now, she was ready.

While making her way to the childcare center, she had all these thoughts roaming inside—“Should I take Beady to an amusement park first? Or maybe the beach?” She had a giddy smile smeared across her face. She could already imagine the tufts of poofy hair sticking out from his tiny little head. Those beady, brown eyes always stared back with so much life. Just thinking about him re-energized her to take on whatever problems life would next throw; it was time for the next phase in her journey. Or so she’d thought…

She knocked on the front desk. “I’m here for Beady, Clara,” she called out. “Anyone there?”

“V-Val!” There was a muffled shout just around the corner. Clara then bounded out, looking unusually more flustered. “Oh, I didn’t know you were coming!”

“Oh, right. Sorry. I kinda forgot to text?”

“You’re not due for another week. You know we take scheduling seriously here, right?”

“Yeah, my bad. But this’ll probably be it for me anyways.”

“Oh! Have you finally decided to let Beady get adopted? You won’t see—”

“No, I’m here to take him…” Val thought for a moment. A grin slowly spread across. “Wait, he is getting adopted. By me!”

“Oh, that’s not—” Her face fell. “Right…”

“What’s wrong?”

“N-no, nothing. Beady’s just… He’s sick—”

“Whoa, wait a goddamn sec there, Clara. You told me he was sick a month ago. You didn’t take him to the hospital? You promised—”

“No, no. It’s not that…”

“What? What then?” Val grabbed her by the shoulders. It was almost like she could sense something was wrong. Like she could feel something bad was just around the corner. “Clara, where’s Beady? I want to see him.”

“Just”—she let out a deep sigh—“wait a minute.” Clara pulled away and quickly made her way to the back of the room. Then her head disappeared into a pile of packages, and after a minute, she finally returned to the desk. Only this time, she wasn’t empty-handed. Clara gently placed down a green, plastic jar.

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“What… is this?” A lump caught in her throat. It looked like one of those cheap disposable pickle containers you got from a supermarket. There was even leftover residue from what seemed to be an old sticker. Inside, there was sand.

She held the jar up to the light and shook. Puffs of dust formed inside. It wasn’t sand. More like…

“I’m sorry,” Clara whispered. “I’m really sorry.”

“Clara?” Her voice shook, fingers started to tremble. Clara didn’t look her in the eye. “Clara? Look at me.” She placed her shaky hands on Clara’s face. Their eyes met. “Clara,” she asked more clearly this time. “What… is this?”

“I’m sorry.” The girl kept trying to look away. “It wasn’t me! I swear!”

“What? No… No, no, no…” Her eyes watered with every passing second; her throat felt so dry. Anger surged. “I-I worked for two years… for this? What is this?”

“I’m sorry—”

“Clara!” Her eyes swelled up even further. She already knew what it was. “Answer my question! Please answer… Clara…”

“I-I’m so sorry. Maybe I can, um, compensate—”

“Two years… Why…” Val fell to the floor; her knees finally gave out. She couldn’t stop the tears from pouring out. Why now? Her mind was torn, blanking. Nothing seemed right. Beady… This was just a dream. All just a dream. I didn’t even show you my world…

All that for the price of death.

…

Was she legal to drink? No. Did it matter? No. She nearly drank herself to death. It was all so surreal. The world came crashing down on her, and the urn stared back like those beady eyes she’d remembered. It felt like just yesterday that she had last seen him.

It’s all my fault.

She was the cause. If only she’d taken him earlier. If only she’d never placed him in their hands. It was all her fault he had died.

If I worked just a little harder… Her hands rolled into fists. If I never bought these… With her teeth clenched, she smashed an empty bottle into her eyes. Again and again. Until all her anger turned into blood, watered down by her tears. If only… She was sure Beady would still be alive.

It was all her fault.

Two months had passed. She’d had a hoard of funds stocked up for their supposed vacation somewhere. Now, she was using it to buy smuggled liquor and beer. It was two months that she could’ve taken him on a trip of a lifetime and years more just watching him grow. Two months she could’ve shown him the world. But just like her parents, she was no better than them.

She’d failed.

Death didn’t seem all that bad anymore. What difference did it make if she’d just died tomorrow? Life would move on; nobody would notice a thing. There was no purpose to live, no need to thrive. All the more reason life didn’t really matter…

But one boring afternoon while she was drinking her thoughts away, there were visitors at her doorstep. A strong knock and a familiar, distant whistling was all it took for Val to realize—bounty hunters.

Instinct took over, and she jumped out of her window only to be met with an ambush. She should’ve known; there was only one window to her shack. Still groggy from all the alcohol she had consumed that morning, she held onto what remained of her sanity and steadied herself.

There were three individuals with heartless demeanor. She could tell by the way they moved. The farthest one in the back was smoking a cigar from an open hole in his cheek, clearly nonchalant about the entire situation. And she could see it in their eyes—they were out for blood. Her blood. But in that moment, it wasn’t fear that took over her mind.

She stopped caring; her mind stopped thinking. And with it, everything else.

Her body that had been shaking, nervous and dizzy, just seconds ago, suddenly stopped. Birds stopped mid-flight; cars stopped driving. The hunters in front of her stood frozen in time, not even a blink escaping their eyes.

And then her Razens started to focus, zipping from detail to detail. She noticed everything. Bare knuckles to her right, enhanced fists to her left, and in the middle, a cigar… falling, bits of fiery ash showering down like miniature meteors. And in that momentary pause, she was awake, ready for whatever was going to be thrown her way.

When the first punch came flying towards her face, her x-ray vision from her Razens activated without command. For a split second, she could see the muscles and ligaments pulsating through the man’s arm. She could see where the bones connected to his elbow, where his arm swiveled at the shoulders. She could see even more than before. And as her eyes moved from shoulder to arm to hand to fingers, she could already predict the trajectory of the swing—

She dodged to the left; the hand barely grazed her chin. Another swing from a woman came from the right, but she swiftly ducked under. The third member—the one with the open hole in his cheek—lurched his arm up, and she saw the barrel of a gun slowly rising with his hand. He had his finger on the trigger, ready to pull whenever, but with nimble steps, she shot forward, slamming the man down to the ground.

Then she ran.

She ran and ran until she couldn’t. Her legs were hurting, her lungs heaving, but she kept running. Away from the bounty hunters, her shack, all her belongings. Away from the suffocating pain she’d felt in her chest. She ran without ever once looking back.

And in that short respite afterwards, she noticed her lips had tightened, curled up into a wide grin she hadn’t had in months.