Kenzo crossed his arms over his chest, leaning casually against a wall. His gaze scanned the area, searching for any signs of the Dusk Tillers. He recognized a couple of their members lurking nearby, their haggard appearances and rough demeanors marking them as distinctly different from the other gangs and groups that frequented the Crossroads.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted one of the gang members approaching him. He straightened, greeting the man with a smile and a nod. "Yo, Green! How's the harvest going this year?"

"We're doing well," the gang member replied. "We managed to get some good seeds from a scavenger a couple of months ago. The plants are coming in strong and healthy." He paused, his expression darkening slightly. "Though, we're still fighting off the Gully Rats every other week. They keep trying to sneak in and steal our produce. It's a real hassle, but we manage."

Kenzo tilted his head to the side. "That's rough. Hopefully, they'll give you a break soon. Say, speaking of the Gully Rats, have you seen any of their members running around lately? Particularly the higher-ups like Torque or Twitch?"

"No, I haven't seen those bastards since last month. I heard Zoltar got off'd by the Neon Knights, and they're all hiding somewhere licking their wounds. Why're you asking?"

"Oh, nothing. Just curious." Kenzo shrugged. He wasn't entirely convinced by the rumors.

Gary Nolan—also known as "Green"—was the leader of the Dusk Tillers, and a frequent attendee of Shunkashūtō's concerts. Unlike the other gang leaders in the area, Green maintained an informal, friendly relationship with Kenzo. They were even allowed to sell cannabis in the Tower of Songs—at a modest price. The Dusk Tillers produced the finest weed Kenzo had ever smoked, and he enjoyed their company more than that of many others.

This resulted in a mutually beneficial arrangement, and Kenzo rarely encountered any issues with them.

"Anyways, how's that bounty on Axion working out for you guys?" Kenzo asked, his tone casual. "I've noticed a lot of gangs are on the hunt for her. You guys joining in, too?"

Green chuckled, shaking his head. "Nah, we're staying out of that one. We got no beef with her. She doesn't bother us, and we don't bother her. Plus, she's a badass, and we respect that. As long as she's not another Backfire, we're cool with her."

"Hmmm, that's interesting. Have you heard who's behind this bounty? Is it one of the big four like the Echo Syndicate or the Ironclad Legion?"

The Dusk Tillers' leader furrowed his brow, casting a sideways glance at Kenzo. "Nope. Not sure exactly who put the bounty out, but it's definitely from someone outside the slums. Two million credits for Axion's capture is a hefty sum. No way anyone from here would have that kind of money to throw around just to catch a Super."

Kenzo sighed and ruffled his hair. "Yeah. I guess you're right. I was hoping I could talk to 'em for a sponsorship or something."

"Aww, man! You gonna leave us for the Metropolis? But we love your music, bro!" Green exclaimed. "You can't just ditch us for those HighRisers!"

"Who said I was leaving the slums? You really think that little of my loyalty?" Kenzo grinned playfully, punching the bigger man on the shoulder.

"Sorry, sorry," Green said, raising his hands apologetically. "But seriously, if you do plan to take that route, I wish you the best of luck. Your band would make it big in the city. No doubt about that."

"Thanks, Green. Appreciate it," Kenzo said. "And hey, tell you what. Let's get high as shit and jam to some tunes next week, alright? Me and the boys will bring the drinks and the bongs."

"Sounds like a plan."

Green smiled and clapped Kenzo on the back, then disappeared back into the crowd, his comrades following behind him.

Kenzo watched him go, still smiling, before sighing under his breath.

Same answer from them. From the Reaper Posse. And now from the Dusk Tillers. None of them seemed to know who set the bounty, but it was legit enough to attract the attention of nearly every gang in the slums—which meant that the big four syndicates okay'd it.

So who was the one pulling the strings?

The only other possibility Kenzo could think of was the Mad Chemist. Virgil said that the guy had a stake in the Shiver business, but why put a bounty on Axion?

Kenzo made his way through the Rust Market, shoving past crowds of people milling about.

He sensed someone tailing him—Virgil. He slowed his pace to allow the former vigilante to catch up to him.

"So, did you figure anything out from talking with the Dusk Tillers?" Virgil's gruff voice came from his side, though he didn't make eye contact. They kept walking through the throng of people, acting as though they were only traveling alongside each other by coincidence.

"Same as the others. None of them seem to have a clue who put the bounty out." Kenzo glanced around to ensure no one was eavesdropping, and then spoke in a lower voice. "But it's looking more like this Mad Chemist guy's the one responsible. What do you think?"

"It's been on the back of my mind, but I wanted to be absolutely sure." Virgil stroked his beard as he mulled over Kenzo's words. "It'll be hard to make the bounty go away. Especially when it's a contract that even the big four agreed to accept."

"Do you have an idea for how we can approach this? Without putting Fii in harm's way, that is."

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"We could try reaching out to one of the big four, preferably the one with less interest in the bounty. Get them to lift the contract, and Axion can safely come out of hiding. Maybe the Chemist's people won't be so brazen once the heat is off of her."

Kenzo spared a quick glance his way before returning his focus to their path ahead. "I know you, Virgil. What do you really want to say?"

The older man grunted, rubbing his neck. "If she could just stop being soft and just start killing off the thugs who are after her, it'd make everything a whole lot easier. There's no place for mercy and sentimentality in these streets. We've talked about this plenty of times before."

"Sure, we have," Kenzo said wryly. "You're saying that once enough dead bodies lay in her wake, everyone will finally get the message to stop bothering her?"

The two of them emerged from the market, and Virgil waited until the hubbub had faded behind them before continuing his train of thought. "Yep. That's exactly what I'm saying. Killing is almost a daily occurrence around here. No one's gonna blink twice at a few dead gangsters."

Kenzo rolled his eyes and shook his head, keeping his mouth shut as he walked along. He wasn't about to argue the point with him. "How are you planning to reach out to the big four? Are you suggesting we actually contact one of them directly and negotiate for them to rescind the bounty? That's crazy. You're public enemy number one with all of them, remember?"

"Still thinking about it. I'll let you know when I've figured it out." Virgil pulled his hat down low over his eyes, covering most of his face in shadow. He threw a lazy wave over his shoulder as he broke away, disappearing into an alley.

Kenzo watched him go, letting out a heavy sigh. Virgil was as stubborn as they came. Whatever plan he'd come up with would leave too many bodies in its wake, but at this point, he might not have much of a choice.

He scratched at the stubble on his chin.

Well, that's a problem for another day. Right now, there's music that needs making—wait, hang on.

There was one more person he could ask. But getting an answer without getting his throat slit would be the hard part.

"Kuso...I haven't been this stressed out in years." Kenzo ruffled his hair as he grumbled to himself.

Time to head back to the Tower.

----------------------------------------

Virgil ambled through the narrow passageway, his boots squelching against the damp concrete floor. Ahead, his destination loomed over the skyline—a decrepit, rusted telecom tower that had long ago fallen into disuse.

Tower of Silence was what people called it. A fitting name given its history and its current state.

Nara's place should be nearby...if memory serves. The crone probably wouldn't be happy to see him, but he didn't care. This was important.

He ducked into a small, cluttered alley where he spotted the elderly woman sitting cross-legged on a blanket, her wrinkled face obscured by a heavy scarf. Her gnarled fingers sorted through a stack of jewelry, most of which looked like cheap baubles.

"Still alive, are you?" Nara cackled as she peered up at him with rheumy eyes. "Thought the Reaper's minions would've chopped you into bits and fed you to the dogs by now."

"Not yet. Still breathing. Still kicking." Virgil regarded the assortment of trinkets spread out around her. "What's all this junk for?"

"For sale, of course. Something to earn some honest coin with, unlike certain vagrants." Nara returned her attention to the jewelry, sorting through the pieces with trembling, arthritic fingers.

"It's been over a decade since I've seen that scowling mug of yours, and you show up looking like death warmed over. Must be important. So, what do you want?" She clicked her tongue irritably. "Spit it out, boy. My joints aren't what they used to be."

Virgil smiled tightly at the old crone, scratching his head through his hat. "Hey now, can't I say hello to my old friend from time to time? Not often I have a chance to drop by and chat."

She snorted. "Cut the crap. Out with it."

"Fine, fine." Virgil heaved a weary sigh. He plopped in front her, resting his elbows on his thighs. "Need your help with something, old hag."

She glared at him, spitting on the ground near his feet. "Bah! My help? I see someone's still brighter than a busted bulb. You still haven't paid back the mountain of favors you owe me." Nara poked a finger at him, her bony joints grinding together. "Or has that memory gone soft like rotted meat?"

Virgil ignored her insults, gesturing at her wares instead. "I'll buy all those if you can help me. Sounds like a fair deal, no?"

"What are you playing at, Maddox? Don't waste my time!" She waved a hand dismissively. "I've no use for that crap."

"How's five thousand ChitCreds sound to you, granny?" He offered, emphasizing the amount with a raised eyebrow. "Five thousand."

"Six. And don't haggle with me, Maddox. Be grateful I don't charge you more." Nara jabbed a gnarled finger into his chest, her eyes narrowing to slits. "Pay up, or I'm calling my grandson over to send your soul straight to Hell."

"Fine. Six it is." Virgil grunted. He slipped a hand into his coat and withdrew a stack of bills from within. He counted the cash out loud, and when he finished, he handed over the payment. "There, satisfied?"

The old woman snatched the money from him with surprising speed, quickly shoving the stack into her robes. "Better be real ChitCreds, or I'll have my boys gut you, Maddox."

He snorted. "Your eyes are as sharp as ever, old hag."

Nara grunted, rummaging around her belongings before sliding them over to him. "Take the junk. Now, speak. What do you need from me? But be quick about it. I'd like to spend my evening eating supper rather than listening to a fool like you."

Virgil's lips tugged upward into a slight grin. He scooped up the jewelry pieces and slid them into his coat pocket, then leaned forward, propping an elbow on his knee. "I need you to set up a meeting between me and some of the movers within the Big Four."

The old woman stared at him incredulously, her eyes widening in surprise. "You have a death wish? Or are you looking to start another war? Haven't you already pissed off enough gangs, Backfire?"

He frowned, the lines on his face deepening. "I need to speak to someone with the authority to withdraw the bounty on Axion's head. Someone who has a seat at the table. Think you can set something like that up, or am I asking too much?"

Nara pursed her lips, her brow creasing as she mulled over the request. "That's a tall order. Even for me. Especially since you're the one requesting an audience. Anyone within the Big Four would want to see you dead. No one there has forgotten what you did ten years ago, Maddox." She tapped a bony finger on her chin. "You've got a lot of enemies, and the Big Four are no exception. Can you guarantee you won't start another massacre?"

Virgil laughed dryly. "I'm not planning to shoot anyone in the head, old hag. I just need to talk. After that, we part ways, and nobody dies."

She stared at him for a long moment, scrutinizing his face carefully, and then she shook her head, a defeated look on her withered features. "If I pull this off, you owe me. And I'm going to collect it before you fade for another decade. Understand?"

He smirked at her, brushing his fingertips over the brim of his hat. "Loud and clear, old hag."

With that, he rose to his feet and ambled out of the alley, leaving the elderly woman to mutter curses under her breath.