Sirens wailed in the distance. The hunt was on. But I was in such a shitty mood I didn't even look up to see where they were.

My feet hurt, squished too tight into my boots. The warm sidewalk pavement still held the faint smell of exhaust fumes. Its warmth pleasantly soaked through the bottoms of my boots but the concrete was still torture on my feet. I missed my car.

The Chi-Mex fusion's sign glowed overhead, lighting the wet street in glistening pink neon. Its aura fell over me like a soft blanket as I stepped into its glow. Was I happy to see it?

Once, a long time ago, the streets were my home; the alleys were my bed, steam ducts my warmth in the winter. Back then, I wheeled and dealed with the best of them. I was mean. I was fast. And I knew the streets.

Now, the streets were ugly so I hid in cheap apartments and slept head down in bars. A part of me didn’t feel any better about the change in circumstance.

I tried the gate to my apartment. Locked tight. Is Milo still here, I wondered, or did she scamper back home? I punched the key in the slot.

The trudge up the stairs was the worst. The emptiness inside me grew with every step. The only thing that could make this day worse was to open the door and find Milo and her friends had robbed me blind. I was too depressed to take the thought seriously, though I did worry about that on the train ride home.

When I walked through the front door, however, the smell of hot food hit me so hard that my belly growled. She was still here. So was all of my shit.

Milo looked up from the coffee table with curious attention.

"I'm back," I said unenthused. I trudged over to the couch, my spirit crushed. On the coffee table was a series of meals from the restaurant downstairs: pizza, noodles, tacos. It seemed like she’d eaten a bit of every meal they had.

"You like the restaurant downstairs, huh?" I asked sarcastically, stopping by the table on my way and ripping a piece of pizza from the pie. I'd have liked some time alone after such a terrible day but instead of going to my room I plopped down on the couch beside her. Milo sat on the floor looking over a magazine.

"It's the only place I know of," she said, returning to her reading.

"You didn't read the hundred take-out menus I have lying around here? There's all kinds of food." I stuffed the cheesy bread into my mouth. Even as shitty as the restaurant was, that bite of pizza was the best bite of anything I'd ever taken.

"No. I don't know how to read."

"Oh." I struggled the pizza bit down before I took another huge bite. "You have a drink?" I asked, noticing a lack of liquid containers anywhere. I was thirsty.

"No. I've been drinking from that sink." She pointed.

"Shit. Don't drink from the tap. There's some kind of chemical put in there. It's bad for you," I spoke through a mouthful.

"Oh, okay." She didn't sound too worried.

"Yeah, there are drinks in the fridge." I took another bite and tried to swallow it, but my throat was too dry. I just chewed and chewed with my head drooped back against the couch, simply enjoying the act of sitting and eating.

"Do you want a drink from the fridge? Is that what you mean?" She asked.

"No," I sighed, "I meant for next time." I caught myself. Oops. Hopefully, there won't be a next time. I forced down the last bit of crust.

"Where did you go today?" She asked out of the blue.

"Huh? What do you care?" I asked, kicking off my tired boots with my toes.

"I don't know. I was just asking," Milo said unbothered. I sat up, scratching my head.

"Uh, I went around town. Down to Little Tokyo. Then around all over."

"Oh?" She looked up from her magazine to meet my eyes. She was excited about that? I snorted. It was cute.

"Yeah. You'd love Little Tokyo. It's all lit up in great big lights." I leaned over and sloppily ripped off another slice. It was a bit relaxing to talk to someone, admittedly.

"Wow. I'd love to see that someday."

"Don't ever go to Little Tokyo on your own. It's very dangerous."

"Oh. Okay," she said timidly. Her eyes left me for the mag again.

"What are you doing? Watchu got there?" Curious, I looked down at what she had. It was one of my car mags.

"I'm just looking at the pictures."

"Is that what you've been doing all day?" I looked around. She hadn't fiddled with the telescreen, or the radio, or really anything in the room at all.

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

"Yeah."

"Yeah? You must've been bored out of your mind."

"No. There's a lot of pictures."

"I guess that’s true. Did you go look at the city at all?"

"I tried. I was too scared I’d get lost."

"Sure. I get that. I was like that too when I first got here." Surprised, Milo's head snapped back around.

"You mean you weren't born here?" She asked.

"Nope. I'm from Warzone, like you." Her eyes widened like she'd just learned some great secret. And she seemed to appreciate the fact. It made me smile, which I desperately hid from her.

"What's this you're looking at?" I asked, throwing the pizza back in the box and scooting over to look past her shoulder. CVX Model 10. A super sports car. It looked like the CX I used to own.

"Oh. Very cool. You like this one?"

"Yeah, it's pretty," Milo said with reverence.

"It is, isn't it? I used to have one like that."

"No way." I could hear the admiration in her voice. Unexpectedly, her timid demeanor disappeared and she looked up at me from the floor, pouring over my face, looking for the lie. But all she found was the truth, which only worsened her excitement. With glowing eyes, she dreamed.

"Was it fast?"

I didn't say anything, just made a noise through my teeth that spoke for me. It said, “you bet.” Impressed, Milo’s look changed from admiration to morbid curiosity, like I was a foreign creature from a different planet.

"Wow."

"Yeah, wow," I said, playing it up. "It went from zero to eighty in three seconds."

"Man. With a car like that, I'd go all over the city." Her eyes wandered back to the picture, daydreams running wild in her young mind.

"I used to. I went everywhere in that car. I loved that thing." The memory caused a stab of pain in my chest.

"What happened to it?" She asked.

"I don't want to talk about it. So you like cars, huh?" Figures since she's a biker chick.

"Yeah. I've always wanted one since I was a little girl. But I don't know anything about them."

"Well, scoot over. I’ll show you some stuff." With enthusiasm, Milo scooched over on the floor and I slunk down beside her, raising the magazine in her hands so we could both see it. I let her hold it so I could point stuff out.

"So, this model is the newest kind. It's neat. S’Got all kinds of functions, but honestly, a real racer would take all that junk out anyways. It gets in the way. But don’t let that fool you. This car is top of the line. Very fast. And completely customizable, too. But, if I were to get one, it would be this one. Here, turn the page."

We sat there for a while, me talking, she listening, the misery of the day melting into obscurity.

After a while, I got up to show her the radio. She'd seen one before but never knew what it was. I showed her how to turn it on and which knobs do what. Then she played around with the stations for a bit. In the meantime, I cleared my pockets.

I stuffed the revolver in my pants pocket. She didn't need to see that. When I unstuffed the wad of cash and put it on the counter, her eyes lit up.

"Woah. That is a lot of money."

"Huh? Oh." I sighed, "Not as much as it should be. Barely made a profit today."

"It looks like a lot to me." Yeah, I guess it would. Despite the money I could have earned, it was a pile of money. At the end of the day, a pile of money was a pile of money, and not everyone had that luxury.

"I guess it's something. Hey, next thing on the docket for you... is a shower. I can smell you from the door." Milo’s face flushed and she shot me a nasty look. I thought she’d explode, she was so red. "It's alright. I was no different. Shit, I didn't know what a shower was until I was seventeen."

"I know what a shower is, okay? I take baths."

"Yeah, maybe once a month. If you're gonna sleep on my couch, take a shower. Oh, wash your clothes first. I'll dry em on the stovetop. Soap's on the cabinet. And uh, wash twice." She huffed at me but obeyed.

While she was showering, I dried her newly cleaned coveralls on the stovetop. It was a pain, but by the end Milo had a crisp clean pair of clothes. Everybody appreciated that feeling. I had to do the same thing my fair share of times when the city shut off the local washateria’s water pump, usually for bills past due or poor water management.

I'd let her do her own delicates… if she wore any. I shuddered at the thought.

When she was done, I slipped the coveralls through the slit in the door to her open hands. She was drying her hair in her fresh clothes when she opened the door. Matted down with water, Milo’s slick hair lay flat on her head, pitch black with moisture and was long enough to reach down to her collar bone. I had to do a doubletake to make sure it was the same girl. She looked... almost normal.

Milo looked at me expectantly like she didn't know what was next. Sleep. I sighed and stretched.

"Alright, I'm getting some shut-eye. G'night Milo." I finally threw my coat over the armchair on my way to the bedroom.

"Good night… Dreamer. Thank you…" she said timidly as I walked by her. I stopped at my bedroom door. That was a strange thing for a WarZoner to say.

"For?"

"Everything."

"Yeah. Don't mention it."

In my room with the door closed, I slid the silver latch box out from under the bed, stuffing the bag of narcotics inside. I took a minute to sort it all out.

Mezedone was gone. 30000 (a 5000 profit margin). Sold about 11000 worth of the other stuff (1000 profit margin). Still have maybe more than half left of the product…

In profits, I made a little more than 6000. With the other stuff, the way it was going... I'd be lucky to make 25,000 in profit after all was said and done. And it was only the first day. What other bullshit would happen this month to make that number worse?

I tallied it up in my head one more time just to rerun the figures. I'd made 41 K back already. With the rest, I'd make another K on top of each run, four runs in total. Four thousand in profit. With forty thousand in sales. I'd make off with 85000 in total.

My heart sank. On a normal take, I'd make 100K with a 50000 dollar profit margin. Minus rent and necessities, I'd make 30000 for the month. And that's without the admitted drug problem cutting into profits.

Now, before addiction cost… which was sad to admit was a thing… I'd be making 15K off this deal. 15 K. That was shit.

And I was lucky I sold the Mezedone. If I hadn't…

My anxiety rose. Half a million. How long would that take?

I didn't want to deal with that fact anymore today. I slammed the case shut.

Fucking Tito…