April 24, 2021. 20:47. Richmond. 6 days left till Italy.
"Man… where is he?" My heel taps a steady rhythm against the sewer's damp concrete. The anticipation's killing me.
A black inflatable hull rocks in the channel, patched with steel ribs and nomad welds. Room for all of us if we squeeze, with benches rigged from waterproof plating. It's sleek and compact, built for speed—not beauty.
Mister stands by the bow, silent, with his visor tipped towards the current.
Michelangelo leans against the tunnel wall near the entrance we slipped through. The faint smear of blood at his collar hints at how cleanly he dealt with what little resistance we had left behind.
We slipped out quieter than I thought we would—but maybe that was always the way it'd go. Anyone still in our path had already been nudged aside, bluffed away, or dodged with the right timing. The only real witness left breathing was Benny, and he wouldn't be talking straight anytime soon.
I sigh and push off from the wall, too tired to stand any longer. The boat's benches can wait. For now, I ease onto the ledge beside it, legs crossed, heels dangling just above the water.
"We made sure there wasn't any evidence, other than Benny, right?"
Michelangelo glances at me. "Security systems were still down by the time we left. Any guards in our way I took care of."
Mister doesn't turn. "Benny knows better than to risk squealing."
Suddenly, Michelangelo tilts his head, eyes narrowing at the ceiling.
A second later, I hear it too.
Boots scuffle above, faint voices echoing down the tunnel grate. A hatch grinds open, and two figures drop down one after the other.
Tetra hits the ground first, landing harder than he means to. He's breathing quick, shoulders heaving—running on pure adrenaline. Remi drops after him, stumbling into the muck and immediately throwing his arms wide like he just stepped off a stage.
"Holyyyyy shit!" Remi's voice bounces through the tunnel. "Craziest night of my life, yo!"
I cross my legs tighter on the ledge, heels swinging. "Took you long enough." My tone drips with sass, eyebrow raised. "Did you stop for autographs on the way?"
Remi smirks, running a hand through his sweat-slick hair. "Almost did. Dead Kings practically had to drag me off. Crowd was going feral out there. Pretty sure I got 'riot of the year' for a headline."
"Yeah…" Tetra groans, rubbing at his temple. "There were hundreds of people losing their minds after the blackout. The police and a lot of the mercenaries had to join in to hold them back—it was bad."
Remi points a finger gun, still grinning. "My clutch up was crazy though, you gotta give me the three-pointer. Emergency mic, whole nine yards. Promised them I'd throw another show later too. Crowd actually settled."
"Fantastic work." Michelangelo pushes off the wall and joins us. "Let's not linger."
"Unbelievable." I shake my head, snorting at the image painted in my head. "Still, good work."
Mister steps aside as the others climb into the boat. "Agreed, we can properly celebrate once we're out of here."
Tetra crouches at the stern, thumbing the outboard starter. "One sec!" The compact motor coughs once before humming to life, vibrations rippling through the rubber sides. "Alright, we're good to go!"
We pile in. Mister claims the bow, Michelangelo takes the far side, Remi sprawls across the middle bench, and Tetra grips the tiller. I lower myself in carefully, crossing my legs again.
The boat drifts forward, ripples lapping against concrete.
I glance down at my dress—silk still flawless despite everything—and sigh. "Was already planning on cleaning this anyway. Guess the sewer ride just bumped it to the top of the list." I mutter while gently pulling at the fabric.
Remi laughs, throwing his head back. "Same here, choom. Shit got my fit drenched."
The team falls quiet after that, letting the current take us. The motor hums steadily, its echo bouncing off the tunnel walls until it's the only sound left—right up to the moment my phone buzzes faintly inside my purse.
Huh? I check the sender ID.
Blake. Of course.
I flick the screen open, dim light painting my face as I read his message.
"Heard things went nuts in Richmond. You doing okay?"
I send a response back. "Still breathing."
"That's good. My boys said the Melders stirred harder than usual. That true?"
I hesitate, eyes narrowing at the shadows racing past the boat. Then I type again.
"Well, it doesn't help that we basically raised a giant middle finger towards them. My guess is that their alliance with the Wraiths is part of something bigger."
The typing dots vanish for a moment.
"That checks out. The whole city's shifting under us, and the VPD's pushing harder than ever. It only makes sense that a lot of gangs are scrambling for insurance."
I frown. "Insurance?"
"Ah, I should probably explain. You already know that the Dead Kings are moving into show business. Not just for the cash, but to look legit. Cleaning up our act while making it harder to pin us down."
"Oh, yeah. I heard a bit about that from Kane and Ryker."
"Hahaha. Those two? They're good men. Well, as good as you can get for guys from Surrey. I hope they didn't bother you too much."
"Nah, we patched things up." I pause, then type, "Wait, what about the other gangs?"
"The others? The Melders and Wraiths are digging deeper underground, setting up shop where local cops can't reach. GTown Boys are branching into security: uniforms, patrols, contracts. By the time the city decides to crack down on crime, half of us will look untouchable."
"And the rest?"
"Velvs and Byte Raiders are just going with the flow. Black Dragons are still buried in Coquitlam (too far for VPD to care) for now. Objectively speaking, the real threats are Melders and Banshees. Dead Kings sit second, maybe third… unless we actually make the jump legit. And that's where you, miss solo, come in. We need more muscle to hold the line against anyone who looks our way while we rebrand."
My lips twitch. "So I'm basically collateral, huh?"
"Collateral, investment… same thing in this line of work."
I smirk faintly, even if no one else can see it. "Sounds like you just dressed it up to make me feel better."
"Maybe. Anyway, the boys are throwing a party downtown. If you and your crew want in, the doors are open."
"I'll think about it." I lock the phone and let the dark swallow the glow.
The motor hums on.
Eventually, the tunnel widens, and faint points of artificial light seep through a grate ahead.
Remi suddenly flips his phone out, thumbs already working. "Ayo, by the way—the Dead Kings are hosting a party tonight 'cause of the concert. Y'all down?"
I arch a brow. "Pass. Blake asked me the same thing. And I've had enough of gangs for one night."
Mister's visor tips the faintest degree. "Likewise."
"Man, y'all no fun," Remi groans.
"A celebration is not without merit." Michelangelo glances between us. "Morale is a resource, after all."
"Damn…" Remi's eyes widen. "Even chrome agrees with me." His grin returns." Shiiii, maybe you do know how to have fun."
At the tiller, Tetra chuckles wearily. "Hmmm… how about a compromise? Maybe not with the Dead Kings, but we could have our own." He tilts his head, brows furrowed. "Like… something smaller and safer?"
I lean back, lips pressed in thought. Maybe it isn't a bad idea. Two birds, one stone. I did tell Shock we'd hang out eventually—this could cover both.
Mister exhales, low and reluctant. His visor tilts faintly as he checks his phone. "Fine. But keep it reasonable."
"You know what? That works," I say, settling into the inflatable siding. "Where would our party be though?"
"I gotchu, choom." Remi lights up, pulling up the crew chat. "I'll send the addy and even invite the others." A moment later, a message pings into our group chat.
"@Azure @Shock pull up to my party. We r celebrating job well done. My place. Don't be lame." He sends an address and then a flood of party emojis trails after.
I arch a brow. "Your place? You sure that's a good idea?"
He shrugs, all casual. "Why not? I vibe with you guys. Feels right."
"I would never." I snort at the thought.
Before anyone else can respond, Azure's reply hits first.
"Wtf? This sudden?"
Remi fires back immediately. "Pull up. Gotta have some fun before shit hits the fan."
"Remi, it's like 10 PM already. I'm not going to haul ass across Burnaby just for u to pass out in an hour."
"Nah, nah, fr fr, everybody's down. Whole crew."
There's a typing pause before Shock barges in. "Wait, WAIT, WAITTTT. EVEN ARTEMIS???"
Remi responds quickly. "Yuh. Even her."
"OMG OMG OMG OMG!!" Shock sends multiple gasping emojis. "I CALL BEING DJ!!!!! AZURE WE GOTTA GO!!!!!111!! DW ABT JENNY YOULL BE SAFE WITH US."
Azure's typing bubbles flicker, disappear, then reappear.
"I'm just going to save myself the headache… Ykw? Fine. I'll bring snacks."
I shake my head and put my phone away, a faint smile tugging at my lips as I think of the chaos to come.
Remi smirks by my side. "See, choom? Sometimes you gotta let the vibes take over."
…
April 24, 2021. 23:42. Burnaby. 6 days left till Italy.
"Girlll, why are you always so cold~?" Shock leans in, lips puckered, arms stretched wide. "C'mere, baddieee!"
"GET OFF OF ME!" I bark, pushing her sideways on the couch, forcing a little space between us.
"Nuh uh!" Half-drunk and grinning wide, Shock presses herself against me. "What's the matter? Scared you'll like it?"
I snort, but the smirk slips through before I can stop it. Reluctantly, I let her hug me. "Why did you drink so much in the first hour?"
Instead of answering, she hums with the music, swaying against me. It's irritating… but not entirely unwelcome.
Around us, Remi's apartment thrums with chaos. Bass rattles the walls, RGB strips strobe seizure-bright across the ceiling. Posters, vinyls, and neon signs crowd every surface, a collision of music-artist chic and gamer clutter. On the flat-screen, pop videos loop endlessly, the queue without end. The place is big, every inch stamped with Remi's taste. Beyond the windows, Brentwood glows in neon—a district of glass towers, a mall, and modern homes tucked below.
Past the windows, a box of empty bottles—soju, beer, whisky—lies kicked into the corner, clinking faintly with every bass drop. Mostly Shock's handiwork, of course. I was tempted to snag a bottle of whisky myself earlier, but she'd already beaten me to every last one.
Tetra sits on the couch with a beer in hand, smiling faintly but keeping quiet. Next to him, Remi rips into a bag of dried seaweed crisps, the kind only Thelas traders could've brought this far inland.
"Man, this shit's BUSSIN'!" Remi crunches happily. "Tell your fam to pass some more later."
"Lucky timing, right?" Tetra chuckles, sipping. "It was a blessing already to have someone waiting to take the boat away. But it's even crazier that they had snacks on hand. Almost like they knew." He smiles. "Maybe it's just Thelas intuition."
Michelangelo rests on the armchair in the corner, posture stiff but oddly at ease. No drink or food in hand. He's just sitting there, watching. His optics adjust occasionally with the shifting lights. At first glance, he looks stone-faced, but there's a strange sense of softness to him—like he enjoys what he's seeing.
In the corner of my eye, Shock—cheeky girl that she is—leans in closer for another kiss. I roll my eyes and gently push her away from me. Then I catch something stronger than her liquor-fused breath, and so does she.
Both our gazes drift towards the kitchen. The smell of pizza drifts outward, heavy and inviting.
Azure stands at the counter, flicking salvaged toppings from Remi's fridge onto a frozen crust. "If I knew I'd end up cooking at a party, I'd have charged admission," she mutters, scattering a handful of pepper slices. "Hell, even minimum-wage gigs barely pay 500 Eddies. I'd have tripled that for this."
Next to her, Mister—of all people—is working on another. His gloves are off, pale hands steady as he arranges toppings with clinical precision, every move deliberate. It's like he's defusing a bomb instead of layering cheese.
Azure smirks at him. "Y'know, normal people would take the helmet off by now." She shoots a glance towards Remi, the two sharing a knowing smirk, before turning back to the pizza.
Mister doesn't look up. "I've learned to live with it. Though the helmet's damage does create some… inconvenience."
Azure snorts. "Well, you could swing by my shop tomorrow. In case you want it fixed quick."
"That would be appreciated," he replies evenly, sprinkling cheese in near-perfect symmetry. "I have spares, but I was planning on upgrading for quite some time now."
The rhythm between them is strange—her snide barbs met with his calm rebuttals. Somehow, the pizzas keep coming together, their back-and-forth settling into something that almost feels normal.
The scene would be funny if it weren't so damn surreal.
The smell keeps thickening until even Remi pauses mid-bite on his Thelas snack. He sniffs theatrically, then throws his head back.
"DAMN! That smells good. Y'all tryna make me cry?"
From the corner chair, Michelangelo's voice cuts in. "I concur."
"Wow, big praise." Azure glances over her shoulder, brow raised, smirk tugging at her lips. "You got the robo-seal of approval."
Shock shoots her hand up like a kid in class. "I want some toooo~!" she yells, letting go of me and bouncing on her toes.
Azure rolls her eyes, slapping her tray onto the counter. Mister slides his, movements exact. Both get shoved into the oven at once, metal racks squealing.
Naturally, the rest of the party doesn't wait.
"Aight, while the pizza gods do their thing…" Remi pushes himself up, eyes a little glazed, grin stretching ear to ear. "Y'all already KNOW we gotta do karaoke! Let's get this ball rolling!"
I roll my eyes and scoff, half-lounging back against the couch. "Of course you'd turn this into your second concert tonight."
Azure doesn't even look up while cleaning the kitchen. "Honestly? It's expected."
Mister wipes his hands and then folds his arms. "I will refrain. But I can… clap along."
Shock gasps, already fumbling with cables. "YASSSS! I'll duet with you, Remi!"
"Hell yeah, choom!" Remi whoops, dragging out a battered karaoke set from under the TV stand. RGB lights from the strip above bounce off its scratched plastic like it's stage gear.
Tetra raises a brow, beer in hand. "I don't… actually know many songs."
"Don't worry, bro, we'll teach you," Remi grins, already scrolling through a bloated playlist.
That's when Michelangelo's voice cuts in again, calm as usual. "I recognise some of these."
The room freezes.
Shock's jaw drops. "NO. WAY."
Remi spins around, eyes huge. "Bro. Are you telling me you, Arasaka's little tin soldier, got taste?"
Michelangelo tilts his head, unbothered. "Merely exposure. Repetition in controlled environments leads to familiarity."
"That's it." Remi slaps the mic against his chest like he's been blessed. "Chrome, you're singing with me. Corpo slave or not, at least you got taste."
Michelangelo doesn't flinch. "I will try."
Shock squeals while Remi cranks up the TV volume. Together, they start putting together the setup, uncoiling cables and laughing as they struggle with it. Tetra drifts over, sipping steadily at his beer, his expression somewhere between entertained and skeptical. Michelangelo, on the other hand, simply waits by the wall.
I push myself off the couch, heels clicking softly against the floor, and head for the kitchen. "I'll feel bad if I just sit around," I mutter. "Might as well help."
Azure glances up from where she's wiping down the counter. "Thanks, here." She offers me a quick smile before passing me a dish towel.
Mister moves past, lining bottles on the counter before tucking them neatly into the recycling bin. He's weirdly efficient. Azure and I watch him for a moment.
Then Azure shakes her head with a faint laugh. "You're way too good at this. Don't tell me this is your first kitchen cleanup."
Mister doesn't look up. "It isn't." He pauses, then adds, "I've had practice."
Something about the way he says it draws my attention.
"Practice?" I lean my hip against the counter, careful not to dirty my dress more than it already is, arms folded loosely. "What do you mean?"
He turns slightly, visor tilted towards me.
"I prefer keeping things private. Same as you." His tone is flat, almost clinical. "Some details are better left unsaid."
The words hit sharper than I expect—and I don't know why. My jaw tightens, a flicker of heat running through me.
"The hell does that me—"
Before I can bite back, Azure cuts in.
"Sheesh, what happened to that fixer charisma sweet-talk, huh?" she says with a grin, deliberately breaking the tension. "Careful, Mister—you'll chase clients off talking like that."
Mister actually hesitates, his posture relaxing. "Sorry. That wasn't my intent," he says quietly. "It wasn't meant as an attack. Only… a reminder. We both prefer privacy. That's all."
I study him for a moment longer, then exhale, letting the knot in my chest loosen. "Fair enough."
We go back to cleaning, the clatter of dishes and rustle of paper towels filling the silence. After a few minutes, Mister moves to the other side of the kitchen, stacking clean plates with consistent precision.
That leaves me and Azure shoulder to shoulder. She wipes down the counter, and I start stacking bottles into the recycling bin. The work is simple, mundane—almost comforting.
"Hey, thanks for earlier," I murmur after a moment. "And, um… sorry if this is a bad time. I just—wanted to check in. With everything about Jenny coming out, we didn't get much chance to talk."
"Of course." Azure stills, cloth pressed against the counter. "…And yeah. About Jenny…" Her smirk fades, replaced by something more guarded. "Things just feel like they're moving too fast." She drops her voice. "Now that it's out there, I don't even know what to say." She turns her back to me. "I've… never told anyone that before."
I tilt closer, my tone softening. "Yeah… if you ever want to explain anything, in private… I'll listen."
Her eyes flick to me, then away again. A small, genuine smile tugs at her lips. "I'd like that. Just… not tonight."
"Got it." I bump her shoulder lightly. "Tonight's for pizza and watching Shock embarrass herself."
Azure chuckles under her breath, tension slipping away. "Yeah. That, I can handle."
For a while, the three of us move in silence, the rhythm steady—wipe, stack, rinse. But as I scrub the plates, my thoughts wander elsewhere.
Is it okay for me to ask her? Do I even have the right?
I glance at Azure, hunched ever so slightly, focused on the counter like scrubbing crumbs off laminate is easier than thinking about what she just admitted.
Then it hits me all at once. She's me. Well, close enough.
Keeping everything locked up, terrified of letting anyone see through the cracks.
Her isolation isn't just a habit; it's survival. Running from Autumn Blade? Hiding that secret? If this really is the first time she's told anyone… that's… lonely as hell.
And am I any different? For me it's not survival—it's privacy, control. If any of my friends knew what I really did, it'd all unravel. Mom would disapprove no matter how much money I pull in, and I can't blame her. Doesn't matter if I keep us afloat; to them, it's never going to be right. Even if I tell myself I only take contracts on people who deserve it. I know that's just an excuse to sleep better.
And maybe that's why it feels so familiar. But do I even have the right to pry? I glance at Tetra, remembering how he and his family offered me space to vent, and I brushed it aside—refusing to share my secret life.
Gina, the smiling fashion model. Artemis, the hitwoman. Both chasing money, chasing anything I could possibly want. Both keeping everyone at a controlled distance. Friends? Sure. But always compartmentalized. No one really knows me—not all of me.
Except Wissen. He saw me at rock bottom, dragged me out of the gutter after I quit university, scraping by as a merc-for-hire while telling Mom everything would be fine. He always had an eye for talent, and he noticed mine fast. We bonded quicker than I expected, and he opened the doors to his network—gave me a shot at the big leagues, just enough to get on my feet before Gestalt stabilized the city. He's the only one who's ever seen the full picture.
His voice still nags at me—the last time he asked why I keep living like this. If I even have a direction, a goal. I never gave him an answer. Truth is, I still don't have one. And it annoys me. I don't know what I'm doing at all.
And, damn it, thinking about Dad doesn't help either. How would he feel, knowing everything he taught his daughter has been twisted into ending lives for thousands of eddies? Paying bills, funding luxuries. That train of thought escalates too fast, and I slam the brakes before it goes any further.
I'm not doing this again. Not during a fucking party.
Just in time, a mic screeches.
The sound peaks sharp enough to make me wince, cutting through the music and chatter. "OW—THE HELL?!" I yell, clutching my ear.
"AYO—my bad!" Remi shouts, laughing as he fiddles with the karaoke box.
Shock cackles beside him, already cheering. "WE'RE LIVE~!"
Just like that, the spiral I'd been drowning in evaporates. My focus snaps to Remi and Shock, and I can't help but laugh.
"Dude, I'm pretty sure your neighbours are gonna be pissed!"
"Ha! Forget 'em!" Remi snaps back. "Sing first, regret later!"
The party shifts, attention snapping back to the chaos.
Remi and Shock bicker over what to play first, and when they can't decide, Remi throws on some loud background noise instead.
With the last plate done, I drape the rag over the sink's edge. Azure gives the counter one final sweep, and Mister steps in to straighten the stack of dishes.
From the living room, Tetra calls out over the thump of bass. "So, what's the first song?"
"Hold up, I got this," Remi says, already scrolling through his phone, clutching two mics like twin pistols. "I got some heat incoming!"
"NO, NOSTALGIA!" Shock screams instantly, clawing for the mic. Her whole body buzzes with excitement. "GIMME GIMME!"
"CHILL, CHOOM!" Remi laughs, pulling the mics back. "Let me cook!"
Then, out of nowhere, Michelangelo pushes off the wall and strides towards them—calm, steady. "I grew up with that song," he says evenly. "It used to play on the radio all the time."
Everything freezes.
Shock's jaw drops. "No. Way."
Remi whirls, eyes bulging. "Bro... did Arasaka's chrome knight just admit he's got a song?"
Shock practically tackles him, trying to snatch the mic. "I'M DUETTING WITH HIM!"
"The hell you are!" Remi elbows her back, clutching both mics like treasure. "This one's mine—I can do the rap!"
Shock glares, tugging at the cord. "You? You'll ruin it!"
Before they can escalate into a tug-of-war, Michelangelo tilts his head. "A compromise. We can all sing together. Division of roles is… unnecessary."
Shock blinks, then squeals. "YES! YES! PERFECT!"
Remi groans but relents, smirking. "Fine. But I'm still taking the rap."
On the couch, Tetra chuckles. "Guess I gotta hear this."
Even I can't help my curiosity. Azure and I trade a look, muttering our disbelief—then drift over to join the others, dropping onto a nearby couch.
Remi cues the track. The karaoke machine hums, lights dimming as if the room itself is holding its breath.
RGB strips overhead flicker, shifting into a soft blue-white glow that syncs with the first few piano keys.
I freeze. Azure's mouth parts, eyes widening.
"There's no way," she breathes. "I can't believe this."
My lips pull into a disbelieving smirk. "You've got to be kidding me."
Then it hits.
"Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars?"
Shock and Remi scream-sing the line in glorious harmonious chaos, while Michelangelo delivers it in a perfectly calm baritone.
The clash is... perfect.
"I could really use a wish right now, wish right now, wish right now…"
Azure and I clap along, laughter bubbling out despite ourselves. She slides in beside me, clapping harder now, her grin unguarded. Tetra picks up the rhythm too, palms smacking steady against his thigh before both hands join in, his shoulders swaying with the beat. Even Mister joins at first, visor tipped towards the screen as he offers a measured clap—but soon he gives up, just nodding his head along with the music.
Shock, Remi, and Michelangelo keep belting the lyrics, their voices colliding in surprising harmony. I can't even hear them anymore—I'm too busy screaming, cheering them on, my voice half-gone from yelling.
Then, with a flourish, Shock thrusts the mic into Remi's hands like it's a sacred torch. He grips it with both palms, eyes shut, posture lit with pure energy as the beat swells.
He launches into the rap with flawless flow.
"Yeah, I could use a dream or a genie or a wish—to go back to a place much simpler than this—"
The room erupts. Shock dances, hair flying, while Remi rides the flow. Azure nearly doubles over laughing, clapping between gasps. Tetra sips his beer, phone in hand. Mister nods to the beat, visor catching neon. Michelangelo stays in the corner, lenses twitching faintly.
I lean back, palms stinging from clapping, a grin tugging at me.