The end of Via Light led to a crossroad between The Sparks and the slums, which surrounded the whole city like a ring of trash. Standing in that crossroad, levitas passing on both sides, evening sun beaming, Tenner faced a sign.

A neon clown that juggled trash was on the left, dilapidated end. A craftsman with a sparking hammer in hand and goggles on eyes was on the right.

I’d love to go to Gi’s workshop and fuck around, but the world needs me as its greatest bounty hunter, he thought, going left, and I’ll only become that if I do the opposite of fucking around.

The shopping district’s lights faded. He tried to understand the rules that governed the run-down town. Here, the feel of Centercity lingered in the air -- it was a whole new world.

Except this time, instead of intruding on a utopia’s perfection, it was a rats' nest.

Realm 224 lived and died on trade: levitas imported what would be used by Centercity and thrown away, or stolen, or misplaced. Either way, its scrap ended up in the districts. Their scrap ended up in the slums.

Even though half the damn Realm lived here, the streets weren’t crowded: people sat on the side of the street, talked and tried selling scrap. Hand-traders, Tenner heard them called.

Seas of low standing shanty huts that sometimes stacked to two or even three floors were the drums of the slums. They were called Fields. And they supported the only spectacular part of the run-down town -- Blocks. Towering metal walls in maze-like patterns housed hundreds of people in Cagerooms--cages with beds--hanging off their sides. The sight was as strange as seeing a Ghastly Death-Rodent reappear for the first time.

I better keep to the streets -- Fields weren’t designed for outsiders, even genius ones like me, to navigate them, Tenner thought. This scum even has their own language, like they got bored of english and spiced it up with seven different tongues.

A Waterelectric, a water tower, tangled in receivers and wires, whose cables stretched on to the ginormous Electrical Tower behind Centercity, waned on the midway point to his destination. And around it, there was a crowd of classless.

Tenner passed them, keeping his head down and [True Sneakiness] activated. From the crowd’s middle, a silver flash blinded him.

They’re not there for a sip of water.

The dark outline of a person appeared. Tenner pushed the scum out of his way. His heart beat faster with every step. Why was he worried? The chances of that were one in a million.

The chance that Jesse would win was one in a million too.

There she was. Crucified. Molly. Every feeling and thought inside Tenner died. He grabbed her and took her down, the blood from a cross-shaped wound on her forehead dripping on him.

He lashed out at the dirt around him to clear the way and sat Molly down. What was she doing here?! And why did Kristus target her?

Tenner inspected her. She wasn’t dead. He could still save her.

“What are you doing here?” He asked. “Does it hurt?”

Molly shook her head and her silver hair bounced. “Not at all. I think this job was a little too interesting,” she said. “Boring is better after all.”

Tenner scoured his list of perks. Come on, is there anything that can heal?! The more it hurts, the less damage it does!

“Chisel had to get someone to clear the secret passage,” Molly spoke, her HP draining to 23. “I made her give me the job of a level 40 hench with a deathwish…”

No, there wasn’t a single healing perk in Tenner’s arsenal. He grit his teeth. He was certainly fast enough to bring her to The Wonderful Yellow, but slum scum and Kristus would be in his way. It saved me countless times, he thought, ordering [Fate Is My Weapon], now, please, save her!

It didn’t activate. He repeated the thought and said, “Kristus did this to you.”

“His goons.” Molly shook her head. “They came out of nowhere, before I could even make it there.” Her finger pointed at somewhere deep in the slums.

How could that fucking priest have spies everywhere?! His walls screamed, yes, but they also had eyes. Faith is My Weapon, damnit! No, Kristus had eyes in every wall. Eyes Tenner had to poke out-- once he saved Molly.

“He has a thousand goons you waked when you triggered him,” Now, she was whispering. “That’s a slim chance for only one Tenner.”

“The soon to be greatest bounty hunter doesn’t need more.”

A reaction shot from his guts. That’s right? Why did I ever doubt my abilities! It was close to impossible for him to make it in time, but Molly’s words inspired him. Embracing her, he started lifting her off the ground.

Molly shook her head and Tenner held her tighter, turning to where he’d come from.

“Screw it, I’m taking a nap,” she muttered. “If I don’t wake up then I’m dead.”

In front of his face, her eyes closed. He repeatedly ordered [Fate Is My Weapon] and inspected. Her HP drained. To 5. To 3. To 1.

“Fate Is My Weapon!” he screamed then choked. “Please…”

The crowd was murmuring behind him, somebody saying something.

[Fate Is My Weapon] failed to activate. Tenner laid Molly down by the Waterelectric and turned to the dispersing crowd. Time to poke some of Kristus’ eyes out.

***

Five minutes later, by the base of the Waterelectric, a group of henches and bounty hunters, all with mountains of muscles, stopped. They wore slick jeans, strapped in place by belts that held batteries. Their jackets--in some spots covered by metal plates, spikes or electricity-spewing coils--tried covering the dozens of weapons that hung off those belts, but there were too many. And even though the designs were all different, they all had detailed graffiti spray painted on their backs. Bandits, most likely. And all in the same gang. From the fear in the classless eyes, Tenner could tell that group ruled the place.

He stopped beating the slum scum under his fists and held his breath, hoping these mountains of muscles came for sightseeing and nothing else. Then, one of them spoke.

“Haven’t kaltchubakaa you here,” he said then spun back to his buds. “Is my memory tripping me out, or is that a neawkalyuka? Assaulting one of our patrol’s customers?”

A hench stepped out of the group, smirking. “You right, Rocketeer -- a neawkalyuka. We getting paid today!”

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Tenner glanced at the dozens of slum scum he’d thrown around and crumpled like empty laserpistol charges. He could cover one rat up, but a swarm was too many, thus he glanced at the outlines of the fortress standing atop a mountain of crumbling sheds. His target. Far away. He couldn’t outrun this bandit patrol -- they knew every trick and shortcut. He glanced at the eyes of the two bandits speaking to him.

“You wouldn’t believe it, but me too.”

The patrol laughed.

“Err that, guys?” The hench that’d stepped out gripped a scanner, connected to a battery in his belt. “Calm down, I’ve got no intention to kick ass this evening. Just want a protection advance you just let us know you have.”

“No I don’t,” Tenner spoke, crossing his arms. “Though I’m walking to where I get paid”

“You get your pay in the slums? What sort of shithole masterminds do you know?”

“Do shithole masterminds live in the fortress for which I just did a bounty?” Tenner snapped, jerking his head at the trash he’d taken out and at the horizon. His chest tightening up, an idea shot to his head. Gotta make them think I’m collecting proof of a done job. He cut hair strands from a few lunarists then from Molly.

At the same time, laughter sounded behind him.

“Never heard anyone call the damn Castle of Hate just a fortress…”

“To me that sounds like the words of a neawkalyuka who’s never seen it,” the bandit beside Rocketeer continued. “But... fuck it. My generous bartender gives me a tab. Why shouldn’t I give you?”

“Because I’ve murdered dozens of people.”

“Good job. Bad for us, but thank god poverty will never end.” The bandit tapped his shoulder. It will when my rank represents my greatness, Tenner thought and the bandit asked, “Where can I find you?”

“Wonderful Yellow in The Bars. But if I’m in the slums, you’ll find me by the trail of dead.”

The bandit returned to his patrol. Rocketeer kept looking at Tenner.

“We don’t have to trust the neawkalyuka,” he said, grinning. “Continue with the parobalka while I follow him to salaryhous.”

“You’re gonna follow me?” Tenner said.

“Till you pay.”

Dumb decision. Tenner followed the map and kept the axe in reach of a single sweep. More patrols passed, most of their bandits wearing pins with middle fingers. Rocketeer’s fellows were rare.

With this new level up, Tenner thought, I can unsheathe my axe, activate my perks and slice his neck in a second. His instincts tempted him, but he couldn’t snatch the perfect opportunity. Soon, his mind wandered to thoughts of power, quick level up methods and theorized if the CHEK replaced him every time he leveled up with a slightly more powerful version of him. He thought about Molly and shivered.

I knew her for a few days. Others have died in my hands, more gruesomely. He cleared his throat. I shouldn’t be feeling this.

He gulped, again, trying to shove it down into the deepest part of his mind, where the hunt was born. He’d have to finish it for her.

Sheets of metal, barrels, crates and repurposed huts were the Castle of Hate’s walls. Dozens of laserpistols strapped together by wires and held by rods were the turrets on the towers in the corners. Atop its roof creaked a massive fist pointing the middle finger.

When Tenner cleared this home of the biggest gang in the slums, he could hunt freely. What Chisel wanted. They’re probably her biggest enemies. Evaporating them will help her, giving me perks and levels that no credits could buy.

Rocketeer stared anxiously at the castle. When a few bandits emerged from its entrance, he crossed his arms.

Tenner made a run for it, into a Field, hundreds of huts passed him and Rocketeer chased. Tenner hopped through an open entrance and landed on a stained leather couch. Two brown skinned men sat on armchairs, talking to one another.

Tenner’s mouth opened to warn them to stay quiet, but one of their gazes turned to him, expression reading a simple “don’t worry.”

Tenner raised a thump and dropped his head. Stay low for a minute.

People live with open doors and no worries about strangers in the slums… Maybe these gangs actually protect them?

One of the men held a makeshift scanner out to his face.

Fair enough. “I can pay you 5C$ for your service.”

The man shook his head. His other hand stretched out and clamped into a fist a few times.

“Fifty? 5C$ is beyond you.” Flowing into Tenner’s limbs, the rage stabbed them. In fact, he could barely fathom such disrespect. “50C$ when you live with the rats? 50C$ for which I risked my life?”

The man grinned and put a ring of fingers in his mouth. The whistle pierced through every wall in the Field. Tenner’s head turned sideways while shadows started dancing around the hut’s entrance.

Tenner smashed a window, flung a fistful of shards at the men’s faces and clambered atop their roof. He heard them blabber, but a minute passed and Rocketeer did not climb up on the roof.

Tenner’s heartbeat returned to normal. A quiet and calm roof. The perfect place to run from bandits and plan a fortress invasion.

First, his eyes scanned the Castle of Hate, all possible entrances, guards, boarded up windows, then went over the surroundings.

The scraps under his feet shifted, bringing him down.

One hand managed to reach a rod in time and pulled his whole body up.

He thought of an action plan. Guns blazing annihilation would be fun, simple and he couldn't help but fantasize about brutally murdering a gang of scum. Yet he had to be discreet -- the odds were against him, three digits to one. And guns never lend themselves to discretion.

The way he had dealt with Gerald in Kristus’ church shot to his head.

Tenner would sneak through and find the castle’s leader. No army of birds would snitch on him too.

But how do I get in there? Tenner hopped onto another roof, his mind lost in a sea of possibilities. The metal plates bent under his feet. He skipped left, onto a sturdier part. There, a window covered by a cloth cracked from his weight. The glass broke and Tenner’s foot fell in, the shards ripping open a thirty-centimeter-long wound.

[Warning! Damage: -35 to health]

First, warmness engulfed his right leg. Frankly, it was quite pleasant for a moment. Then blood dripped into his shoe. Then the stinging started, worsening every second. The pain subsided for a moment and Tenner used it to push himself out of the hole. As he sat on his haunches, the pain returned, ten times worse.

He rolled up his now maroon pants: blood had dyed his whole calf red. The wound itself was pretty… meaty. Tenner’s eyes widened. I keep quite a lot of things in that shoe! His left pushed on the wound while the other put a piece of trash into his sock and tucked it into itself.

[Warning! Damage: -30 to health]

Thirty damage every twenty seconds?! That is beyond fucking bad!

Tenner subtracted the boosts of his perks and skills from the damage and concluded that he was indeed fucked. His perks calmed the pain down, instead weakening him. Dizziness struck his head and the world started spinning.

[Warning! Damage: -4 to health]

I can make it. Stepping slowly, Tenner got off the hut’s roof. Before he knew it, over a third of his health had drained. I gotta work bleeding to death in my plan to annihilate the Castle of Hate… And I gotta execute it right this moment! He limped over to the fortress's entrance. No matter how he looked on the outside, inside he felt like a wounded soldier, gun in hand, limping to kill his final foe.

Two bandits guarded the entrance and a turret loomed from above. As he climbed the hill, none of them paid any attention. He stopped in front and waved. They stared in silence. He made one more step: both guards grabbed bulky laserpistols and aimed in his face.

Tenner shook his head. “It’s okay, I’m…” When he tried to speak, the weakness showed its strength. Mustering up a word took the energy of chasing a bounty through the desolation. “Just… just…”

I need a little rest. Tenner’s legs gave in. He fell to the ground and focused all that remained in him to assure survival. “I have a message for,” he said in a weak voice, “your leader.”

Confusion took hold of the guards. One crouched by his feet while the other crouched by his head and smacked his forehead with a gun’s handle.

[Warning! Damage: -13 to health]

The hit shook Tenner’s world, but he held on to consciousness.

“Bring me to him or you all will… end up like me…”

Views flashed, people talked, a soft wind of motion blew across his face. At some point, the guards put him down and an outrageously bright light shone on him.

“That’s no good, is it?”

“No, not all -- humans are not supposed to leak blood like rusty pipes… but we’ll fix him up in no time… hear what he has to say… execute...”