April 25, 2021. 13:01. Burnaby. 5 days left till Italy.
The hell?
My screen stares back at me, Mister's message on full display.
"Help. Azure's shop is on fire."
I blink once, then twice, like the words will change if I give them enough time. They don't.
"What the fuck…" My stomach drops.
Meanwhile, Shock's halfway through groaning about her hangover, Remi's whining about the ramen portions, and Tetra's steadying both of them.
I glance at the singular line of text, questions forming in my head.
What happened at Azure's shop? Wasn't Mister just supposed to repair his helmet and talk to her? Did Jenny find her? Did Azure screw up? Was it an ambush? A deal gone sideways?
I hammer a reply before I can stop myself.
"What? Details? What happened?"
The chat stays dead. No read receipts.
My pulse spikes. I swipe to call him, pressing the phone to my ear.
It rings. Once. Twice. Three times.
Come on. Pick up.
The fourth ring drags out for too long.
Static crackles faintly in my ear—like heavy, ragged breathing under a layer of distortion.
My chest tightens. "Mister?" I whisper.
The line cuts.
Silence.
No answer. No details.
Just that ragged hint of breathing before the silence.
Then I try Azure's number.
Nothing. No tone, no response. Dead as well.
I turn to the only person holding steady right now. "Tetra."
His head snaps up from steadying Shock. The moment he sees my face, his expression hardens. "What is it?"
I hold the phone out for him to read. "Mister. He just sent a message—Azure's shop is burning. He's there and needs help."
Remi blinks, spoon frozen halfway up. "Ayo, what?" His voice cracks, hangover fog burning off fast.
Shock straightens too, eyes clearing as they widen. "Wait… you're serious?"
"I tried calling." I nod. "He… didn't answer. Just—" My frown deepens. "Just breathing. Then nothing."
Remi slams his bowl down too hard, broth splattering. "FUCK! Bro, my bike's in there too—"
"Remi!" Tetra cuts him off, voice edged with steel. "Focus, man." Then turns to me. "What about Azure?"
I shake my head. "No response either."
Shock groans, pursing her lips. "If he said help, that means it's bad. Likeeee… really bad."
My jaw tightens, pulse hammering. "Then we need to move. Now."
We spring into action.
Tetra's on his feet, grabbing his jacket and nudging the others to speed up. "Alright, you heard her. Let's go."
Remi lurches upright, nearly tripping over his own shoes. "Shit, shit—WHERE'S MY PACK?! I swear I had it—"
"Girlll, could you not shout? You left it by the couch." Shock clutches her head with one hand while digging for her holster with the other. "Ughhh, my brain's melting."
"AYO, THANKS, CHOOM!!" Remi half-crawls over the cushions to yank his gear free.
"Remi…"
I move as well, lightly shoving past Tetra with a quick, "Excuse me."
He nods, ready to go, helping Remi and Shock get prepared.
"Argue in the truck. Move."
Meanwhile, I duck into the bathroom. I tug my wig into place, glaring at the mirror in the corner. Strands stick out at all the wrong angles, and my dress is still creased from crashing on the couch. Perfect. Just perfect. "Fantastic. I look like shit and I'm about to roll up to a burning building in heels."
I thumb my phone, queuing my truck to meet us out front. "Well, this is what I get for a sleepover with Shock."
Shock staggers in, groaning in her boots with a curse. "Bestie, don't lie, you loved it."
"Talk to me after your breath doesn't stink," I fire back, rolling my eyes with a smirk.
Down the hall, I hear Remi zipping up his jacket with a savage jerk. "Ow. Ow. Fuck my ears. Aight, I'm good, I'm good. Let's go save Mister."
Tetra looks back at me. "Good to go?"
"Yeah," I reply, double-checking I have everything on me.
Remi pops open a pill bottle with shaking hands, dry-swallowing two tablets. "I'm gonna flatline, I swear. This is the worst timing in history. Who the hell starts a fire at noon?"
Shock slumps against the wall, groaning and wincing. "Don't say that. My stomach can't handle the mental image of being a firefighter right now."
Tetra chuckles, his gaze flicking between the two of them. "You both deserve the hangover, but I'll give you credit where it's due—you're still on your feet."
Remi groans. "Barely, bro. I wanna crash."
"Then Mister burns alive—and Azure probably will too," I snap, adjusting my dress. "Pick your poison."
"Ah, shit…" Remi sighs. "You're right."
We spill out into the street. My truck idles at the curb, engine purring.
Tetra herds Shock and Remi into the back before climbing into the shotgun. I slide behind the wheel, kicking off my heels and slamming them into the passenger footwell.
"Still… it's kinda weird," Shock mutters, rubbing her temples. "Why was his message that short? Why Azure's shop? And wouldn't they both have called by now?"
I shake my head and gun the engine, pulling us onto the road. "No clue. And if Mister isn't answering calls, that's… not good."
Remi's voice drops, uneasy as he straps himself in. "Shit. Think Jenny pulled up?"
"Not sure," I admit, and that's the part I hate most. "It's possible."
"So what's the play?" Remi leans forward, hand clutching Tetra's seat. "We storm in guns blazing, or what?"
"Well, probably the first step is finding them." Tetra looks back at him. "We don't know what happened."
Shock winces at the turn I take. "Please, no sharp corners, I'll puke—"
"Not promising anything," I mutter, weaving through traffic. "It's ten, maybe fifteen minutes from here if the roads are clear."
The truck hums down the road, city blocks rolling past in a blur.
Remi continues, jittery. "Okay, someone tell me I'm not the only one who thinks this is sus as hell, though. Mister goes to get his helmet fixed, talks shop with Azure, then—bam—next thing we hear is her place going up in flames?"
Shock presses her forehead against the cool glass, groaning. "No one said that. I don't buy it either. She left angrily, sure, but not torch-the-shop pissed. Girl isn't that reckless. I think."
"To be fair, she's not stable either," Tetra counters quietly, arms folded. "She stormed out hard once we saw Jenny. I'm not sure what happened to her, but it definitely was traumatic."
I grip the wheel tighter, forcing my voice to stay even. "For all we know, maybe someone else hit her shop. Mister wouldn't waste time on a vague text if it wasn't bad."
"Yeah, but how bad?" Remi leans forward again. "Are we walking into a shootout? An ambush? Shiiit, is he just bleeding out waiting for us to drag him out?"
Silence stretches, the hum of the engine filling the gaps.
I push the accelerator harder, the engine growling in response. "Ten minutes. Hold it together till then."
The truck tears through Burnaby, each passing block tightening the knot in my gut.
By the time we arrive, there's smoke bleeding into the sky.
A black plume twists over the block. Sirens wail in the distance—closer with every second.
We spill out before the engine even cuts off. The air reeks of scorched plastic and burning oil. Sparks snap from a downed line, casting quick flashes across the crowd gathering on the sidewalk.
People shout. Neighbours point, some filming on their phones, others screaming at each other to back away. Heat rolls off the building in suffocating waves, and even from here I can feel the fire clawing at my lungs.
"HOLY SHIT! IT'S TORCHED TORCHED!" Remi's voice cuts through the din as he bolts forward, ignoring the calls to stay back. "AW HELL NAH, I'M GOING IN!"
"Remi, wait—" I snap, but he's already plowing through the makeshift cordon of onlookers. A man tries to grab his arm and gets shoved aside.
Shock's hand hovers in the air. "Uhhh… give me a sec—I'll try to tap the nearby cameras. Maybe Mister's in the feed, maybe we'll—oh… half the systems are fried." Her eyes dart, wide with panic. "This isn't just fire damage, someone busted the security."
"Tch. Shock, stay here," I throw back over my shoulder. "See if you can pull anything off what's left. Don't step inside."
She doesn't argue, just leans against the truck, already pulling up her cyberdeck.
I break into a run—awkward in heels, every step biting into the concrete.
My senses flare. Every vibration of glass breaking, every groan of warped steel cutting sharp in my ears.
My phone's in one hand, holster strapped tight against my thigh as I follow Tetra into the smoke.
We shove through what's left of the garage door. The heat hits instantly—a furnace blast that makes my eyes sting. The floor is littered with debris: racks of melted tools, half-collapsed servers coughing sparks, and the sagging skeleton of a bike frame dissolving under fire.
The shop is unrecognizable.
"Holy shit…" Remi chokes, spinning in place. "This—this is fucked—"
Flames crawl up the walls, devouring wiring in sparks and bursts. Smoke thickens fast, swallowing the far side of the room. Somewhere deeper inside, metal groans, ready to collapse.
My heels crunch glass as I push forward.
No sign of Mister. No sign of Azure. Just ruin.
"We can't stay here! We gotta do this fast!" I cough into the crook of my elbow, trying to shield my mouth from the smoke. "Find him before this place caves in!"
The three of us split—Remi kicking through debris, Tetra and I pressing further in.
Every second stretches thin, the roar of fire and crackle of collapse bearing down on us.
Mister has to be in here.
The smoke inside is brutal—dense, acrid, clawing down my throat with every breath. I wave Tetra closer.
"Stay low!" I shout, eyes stinging. "Watch for debris and check your corners!"
Tetra gives a sharp nod, crouching as he moves. At least he listens.
Remi, of course, doesn't. He barrels in, coughing, shoving aside a charred workbench. His voice cracks above the roar of fire.
"NO! NO, NO, NO—"
I follow his gaze. "WHAT?!"
Then I see it: the red bike, the one that looked like it could devour the streets whole.
It's beyond repair. A sleek frame blackened, crumpled in on itself like paper. Stabilizers melted, drive core cracked, every polished edge burned past recognition. Nothing left to save.
Remi screams like his chest is being torn open. "YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT—MY BIKE! IT'S FUCKING DEAD!" His voice breaks, collapsing into a fit of ragged coughs as the smoke claws deeper.
"Remi, MOVE!" Tetra grabs him, dragging him back toward clearer air.
"I'M GOING TO CRASH OUT! WHO THE FUCK DID THIS?!"
That's when I spot him.
Through the haze, just past the collapse—Mister, slumped against the side exit, a trail of blood smeared behind him.
"Shit! The hell?!" I bolt forward, heart slamming. His coat is shredded, his legs… torn open. What the fuck happened? Blood slicks the concrete in thick streaks, smeared from where he dragged himself. He looks less like a man and more like a ruin of one—yet he's still breathing. Barely.
"Tetra!" I scream for him. "Over here!"
Not a moment later, Tetra is at my side, and together we heave Mister up, his weight dead heavy between us. "Mister—can you hear me?!"
A groan rattles through his modulator. Wet, broken. Blood bubbles at the corner of his mouth, splattering across the cracked visor.
We stagger, dragging him through the smoke and into an alley. Cool air slams into us, and we collapse him against the brick wall.
He slumps hard, nearly sliding down until we catch him. Blood leaks through my gloves as I press into the ruin of his shoulder. "Stay with me. Don't you dare check out now—"
Remi stumbles out after us, hacking and coughing, eyes raw from the smoke. "My bike—" His voice cracks, fury and grief colliding. "It's—fuck—it's all gone!"
"REMI, SHUT UP AND FORGET ABOUT THE DAMN BIKE!" Tetra snarls, shoving him toward the wall. "CAN'T YOU SEE?! HE'S DYING!"
I tear into what little I've got—yanking out scraps of cloth, makeshift bandages, anything I can strip from Mister's ruined coat. I press down hard, knuckles white with the effort, muscle memory dragging up every ounce of training I ever had. Direct pressure, stabilize, keep him conscious.
It's not enough. Too much blood loss. Wrong tools and wrong place.
I peel back more of his shredded coat and freeze. His chest is peppered with shotgun pellets, some still embedded, bleeding freely. His legs are worse—shredded by razor wire, deep cuts exposing mangled muscle. It's a miracle he's still here at all.
"It's bad. Real bad."
But Mister somehow clings on. I can feel it in the tremor of his body, the stubborn rasp in his throat.
Tetra leans in. "Mister. What happened?"
Mister's head lolls. His words come in broken segments.
"Azure…" His breath rattles. "…betrayed us."
My hands freeze. "What?"
"Destroyed… shop… she ran…" His voice hitches, mechanical rasp breaking into static. He tries to lift his head, but it drops back against the wall.
One more breath, one more scrape of sound.
"Careful… she's—"
And then his body sags, finally giving out.
"Mister!" I smack his chest plate hard enough that my palm stings. No response—just ragged, shallow breaths. "DAMN IT!" I groan, staring at Mister's unconscious body.
My head spins through options, ticking them off in frantic bursts.
Hospital? Too many questions. They'd need his ID.
Underground ripperdoc? Shit. I don't know enough people in the area. He'll bleed out before I can properly search one up.
Who else can I call?
Then it clicks. My eyes widen.
Wissen!
Decision made.
I yank out my phone, thumb slick with Mister's blood as I mash call.
It rings once. Twice.
Wissen's voice crackles through. "Hello, Artemis. What's—"
"No time." My words come fast, clipped. "Mister's down. Bleeding out bad. Legs shredded, he might lose both. We're near Kingsway. I need help. Now."
A pause, weighted.
"Alright. Listen carefully. There's a contact off Boundary. Very good. Clinic front, nothing on the books. I'm sending you the address. I'll notify them and pass along your details. I assume you can do the rest."
"Got it." Relief bleeds into my voice. "Thanks. We'll figure out repayment later—I owe you."
"Italy is how you'll do it," Wissen says. "Now go."
I hang up, spin on my heel. "Tetra! Truck! NOW!"
Remi finally stops struggling, his voice hoarse. "...It's gone. My bike's gone, man."
"Man, I'm gonna slap you." Tetra shoves him forward and joins me.
Together, we hoist Mister's limp weight, dragging him towards the truck. Blood smears across my dress.
"Fucking shit," I hiss, teeth clenched. "First the dress, now my truck seats. This is my life."
We heave him up and shove his frame across the back seat. I flick my phone, the engine roaring to life through the remote start.
Shock stares at us, then at Mister. Before she can speak, I jab my chin toward the back.
"We gotta go!" I bark, circling to the tailgate.
She scrambles inside beside Mister. Tetra dives into the front passenger seat. Remi fumbles until I toss him my phone, with the address glowing on-screen.
"Remi, drive!"
He catches it, blinking once before reality slams home. "Shit—yeah, I got it!" He vaults into the driver's seat and slams the door.
I rip open the rear door and climb in next to Mister, yanking out the med kit I keep stashed under the seat—gauze packs, compression dressings, tourniquets. Stuff I bought for myself, but I never thought I'd use on a teammate.
Gloves on, I kneel awkwardly against the seat, heart hammering but hands steady.
"Anyone know how to compress wounds properly?" I snap, strapping on a headlamp, its beam slicing across his shredded coat.
Tetra twists around from the front, bracing one knee on his seat. Shock nods quickly beside me.
"Perfect. Follow my lead." I shove gauze into Shock's hands. "Pressure first. If it doesn't hold, tourniquets—high and fast. Pack the wounds, keep him flat and warm."
Then, I slam both hands into the torn mess of Mister's thigh, blood soaking my gloves.
"Pressure, here!" I snap, tossing a pair of tourniquets from my kit to Tetra.
He cinches them down hard, twisting until the pulses vanish. "Got it!"
"Good!" I jam hemostatic gauze into the cavity, compressing hard, then wrapping tight.
Shock presses another layer where I point.
"Mister. Look at me." My voice cuts low, urgent, even though he's gone under. "If you can hear me, breathe. Stay with us." I check his carotid. Shit, thin and weak. I tighten the wrap, jaw clenched. "We're moving. Hold on."
The truck lurches, tires screaming as Remi punches it into gear. "Hold on, chooms!"
We work in a blur—blood thick in the air, gloves slick, the world narrowed to hands and seconds. Bit by bit, the bleeding slows.
Then Remi shouts, "Yo, Artemis—your phone's ringing!"
"Put it on speaker!" I order.
He does, and a calm woman's voice fills the cab. "This is Oscula Trauma. Is this Artemis?"
"Yes," I answer, breath harsh. "I've got someone with massive leg trauma—arterial bleeding. He also has shotgun wounds. Tourniquets are on both thighs, applied around thirteen twenty-seven. Lost at least two litres. Airway stable but fading."
"Copy," the voice replies. "Two surgeons on standby, blood warmers primed, OR prepped. ETA?"
I glance up. "Remi?"
He grips the wheel tighter, eyes locked on the road. "Less than ten minutes."
"Understood. We'll have a crash team and gurney waiting at the rear entrance, east side."
The line clicks off.
…
April 25, 2021. 13:47. Burnaby. 5 days left till Italy.
Everything is running with sharp efficiency.
Bright LED strips cut through sterile white walls. The air smells of antiseptic, ozone, and faint solder from biomed tools. Holo-panels glow across counters, nurses in slate-grey scrubs moving like clockwork as Mister is rushed onto a gurney.
His ruined coat is peeled away, blood soaking through gauze before it's even pressed down. Now, it's in the staff's hands.
Nurses and surgeons swarm, their voices sharp and overlapping.
"Move, move—get the vascular clamps ready!"
"BP crashing, 78 systolic and falling!"
The staff are everywhere at once—people darting between carts and trays, snapping gloves on, shouting numbers.
The rest of us are pushed back into the waiting alcove—a row of mismatched chairs and a vending machine humming like it belongs in some cheap office lobby.
Outside, muted sirens wail from distant streets, most likely headed for Azure's shop.
I sink into a chair, tugging at my blood-stained dress, and curse under my breath. My wig is even more of a mess, streaked with soot, sweat matting my skin. Perfect. I look like absolute shit while Mister's fighting for his life. Could've just been at home, showered, done. But no… now I'm here.
I sigh and shake my head, cancelling that train of thought. Instead, I tap out a quick text to Wissen.
"He's inside. Thank you."
Shock hunches forward, elbows on her knees, staring at the floor. Tetra leans back, hands running through his air. Remi paces like a caged animal, muttering every few seconds about his bike again before catching himself and glancing toward the closed operating room doors.
Through the glass, figures swarm around him—clamps, IV lines, a crash cart already prepped.
A voice shouts from inside.
"We need that helmet off, NOW!"
I freeze. "Wait…" My pulse spikes.
Another medic tugs at the reinforced straps.
"Can't get a proper airway with this thing. Someone get me the cutters."
I lunge towards the windows, straining to see past the flurry of white coats and scrubs.
"Wait! You can't—"
A nurse cuts me off, stepping between me and the glass.
"Ma'am, if we don't remove that helmet now, he'll die."
Remi swears loudly, clawing at his hair.
"Fuck—just take it off! What's the big deal?"
Tetra grabs his arm.
"Remi, wait. If they see who he is…"
Shock finally lifts her head.
"Oohhh, wait, that's bad. They'll put his name in the system. Even if he's in an off-the-books clinic, it kinda defeats the purpose of his mask, no?"
The nurse presses, desperate. "We don't have time for this! He's crashing!"
My jaw locks. Think. Options.
I dig my phone out again and hit Wissen's number.
The line clicks after two rings.
"Artemis?" His voice comes sharp, wary.
"Sorry, need to call you again. It's bad," I hiss. "Mister's bleeding out. They wanna take his helmet off. His ID—his whole cover—will be blown. I need a workaround."
A pause. Then Wissen's tone hardens.
"Put me on speaker."
I follow his orders and shove my phone towards the staff.
Wissen's voice fills the room.
"Doctor. This man is under a specialized contract. If you remove that helmet, you'll invalidate jurisdiction and risk liability you do not want. Stabilize him. Do what you can around it. I'll cover authorization."
The lead surgeon's voice snaps back.
"You expect us to operate blind? He's got multiple arterial tears, and we can't manage the airway without removing this thing!"
Wissen doesn't flinch.
"Then stabilize the bleeding and run a trach tube below the visor line. You know how. I'll wire hazard pay to every one of you if he survives."
The room goes tense. The medics hesitate. But the money talks—or rather, Wissen's money talks.
I catch my breath, glancing at Tetra, who still looks uncertain.
Remi mutters under his breath. "Holy shit. This is a Wissen clutch…"
The surgeon swears, frustration cutting through. "Fine. Clamp him. Prep the trach. But this helmet stays in the way, it's on you if he flatlines."
"He won't," Wissen replies coldly. "Just keep him alive."
The line falls quiet after that, Wissen holding on standby.
I exhale slowly.
Crisis contained. For now.
The clinic's fluorescents continue to hum, painting the waiting room in pale light.
Remi's restless energy finally spills out of him. He slouches low in the chair, knees bouncing, muttering curses under his breath.
But then, suddenly, he jerks upright and flings his hands out.
"Mannnnn, screw this. I gotta bounce. Just… clear my head or something."
Tetra's brow furrows. "Seriously? Right now? Mister nearly died and you're—"
Remi shoots him a look sharp enough to cut steel. "Dawg, that bike was everything. Straight outta Akira, man."
"Was the bike really that important?" Tetra blinks—not judgmental, just confused. "Wait… what's Akira?"
I freeze, my bloodied dress still clinging uncomfortably. "… Holy shit." My eyes widen. "Okay. I get it now. Sort of, anyways. Maybe not full-on screaming, but yeah, I'd be pissed too."
Shock tilts her head, still pale from the hangover. "Wait, wait, wait. Isn't that the old anime? The one with the bike slide gif everyone still uses?"
Remi points at her like she's spoken gospel. "YES, CHOOM! Exactly that. And mine was a custom-made replica of the real thing. Got it from a friend in the industry. Now it's trashed. And no—before anyone says it—I can't get another one. Homie said it was a one-time deal."
He collapses back into his chair.
Tetra rubs the back of his neck. "…Okay. That makes more sense. I didn't realize. But is storming off on your own really gonna help? You'll just… I don't know, stew in it."
Remi mutters, eyes low. "Maybe I need to stew."
I exhale sharply. "Look—we can't all sit here forever. Mister's in for the long haul, and who knows how long it'll take. Honestly, I think we should rotate. Some of us could use a shower." I glance downward, at my dress. "Badly."
Shock raises her hand lazily. "Me too, bestie. I reek like weed and ramen. I'll puke if I don't shower."
"Yeah… I'll drive you back, and then clean up at my place. Then we'll both rejoin later."
Tetra straightens. "Hm… okay, I'll stay then. It doesn't bother me."
I frown. "You sure? Could be all night."
He gives the faintest shrug. "Better me than you dragging Mister's blood around in a dress. Besides—we're a team. I owe him this much."
I hesitate. Strange—seeing him care this much about a teammate. Then I nod. "Alright. Just… text me if anything changes. I'll be quick."
Shock stretches, already wobbling to her feet. "Kayyy. Don't let him die on your watch, Tetra."
Remi stands too, stuffing his hands into his jacket, gaze still burning. "Aight, I'll be back later. Don't wait up."
Tetra glances at him, unconvinced, but lets it slide.
I linger a second longer, meeting Tetra's eyes. "…You've got this." I offer him a faint supportive smile.
Tetra's calm expression holds steady. "Thank you."
And with that, Shock and I leave for my truck, Remi already peels off in the opposite direction, leaving Tetra alone in the clinic.