Qīyuè 3rd 250X Cont.

That night, Prasong had trouble falling asleep. He hadn't slept well since arriving at the Vostoko residences five months ago and couldn't seem to shake the unsettling feeling that had taken up permanently in his gut. He forced his eyes shut but fragmented images of burnt flesh and roaring flames projected themselves onto the backs of his eyelids.

He breathed out deeply and reopened them, staring up at the shadowed ceiling. The blinking neon lights of the gambling den opposite cast rainbowed silhouettes across the cracked and peeling canvas. Prasong been having the same nightmares for a while now, charred bodies piled on top of each other, a wave of heat that made his skin bubble and burn.

Prasong couldn't understand why he had been thinking about the fire that razed his childhood orphanage to the ground. Especially seeing as the incident had been no great loss for him and, as far as he knew, no one had even died.

He had been fourteen when there had been an electrical fault in the underground wiring. Nearly the entire block had been lost to the flames and half the zone had become engulfed in thick smoke. Prasong knew that he should have stayed put.

Standing alone on the safety of the rain soaked street outside - waiting for the authorities to come and round up the scattered children. However, the commotion and the chaos, although frightening, had also been all too tempting.

Prasong had taken his chance and run, run as fast as he could until he had crossed two zone borders. When his breaths had become too pained and his muscles too sore to keep going, he had ground to a halt - reaching out to lean against something glittering and green.

Prasong soon realized that he had delivered himself in soot caked wrapping to the mouth of Psi zone's notorious Dragon District.

The next six months of Prasong's life had been spent as an inhabitant of Sapphire Sky, one of the smaller boutique brothels of the Pleasure District. That was until the Ringmaster came along and acquired him for the Circus.

Getting drafted into the criminal gang was the best thing that could have happened to Prasong, at least in his mind. It was one of the reasons that he had been so willing to take on the extra responsibility of enrolling new street kids into the organisation on behalf of his employer.

In Prasong’s eagerness to please the gang boss who had 'rescued' him, he must have brought in nearly a hundred new workers over the last three years. The task began to lose its appeal however, after the first year of zone rounds.

Of repeatedly seeing his personal recruits stood on the street corners at the behest of the Ringmaster, their punishing shifts enforced by the fists of goons like Kai. Sometimes Prasong stopped to watch them, drawing back into the shadows unobserved to stare at the emaciated bodies trembling in fear and cold.

Rain water pouring down from the gutters above, soaking them to the bone. They were an army of service skeletons that he had helped to create.

"Still better than being alone on the streets," Prasong would whisper to himself at night, when the darkness dredged up visions of bruised cheeks and collar bones. Small bodies shaking under large calloused hands, gripping them like a vice.

The Ringmaster had promised Prasong a better life, one with a bed, protection and food. He simply passed the promise onto other strays, acting as a further link in the chain of the gang.

Prasong always slipped the kids extra credit notes for food, or more likely Dust offcuts, when he could afford it. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder if any of them resented him like he resented himself?

Prasong hoped that they understood, when you were in the Circus - you had to perform.

There was a knock at the door, serving to jerk Prasong from his dark train of thoughts. He waited momentarily for the familiar scratch of nails before remembering where he was and that Sakura was still back in Xi zone.

"Come in," he rasped out, coughing and wondering when his throat had become so dry. The door creaked open as JJ slipped inside, his hair was damp and sticking down against his forehead and there were water droplets clinging to the side of his neck, he had clearly just come from the showers.

"I can hear you thinking from the other end of the corridor," JJ shrugged, walking forwards and pulling something out of his pocket. He waved a battered and torn pack of cards at the smaller boy, "Want to play something?"

Prasong smiled quietly before nodding and drawing himself back up against the headboard, "Sure, why not? It's not like I'm getting any sleep."

"Worried about the fights?" JJ looked up questioningly as he crawled across the sheets to settle beside Prasong’s legs, the feline like movement reminding strangely of Sakura.

Prasong tried not to read too much into it. JJ was notoriously tactile and whilst his flirtatious behaviour was more sharply targeted with other recipients he was rarely actually suggestive with Prasong.

Prasong knew that JJ would never think to view him in any sort of physically desirable light. Of course, JJ slept around, even in this new gang he’d made himself acquainted in several beds. But Prasong wasn’t some comfortable ease, a willing warm body at the end of a hard day. Prasong was awkward and snappy, his body used and his mind too tired to try and create a personality that could even begin to compliment the happy optimism of JJ’s.

Prasong caught himself before he threaded his fingers through JJ’s honeyed hair, like he would have done to Sakura. Instead, he refocused on what the other boy had said to him about the fights.

A month's time would see the official introduction of both Prasong and JJ into the city's scheduled fight roster. They had each been through a couple of practice fights so far, but those matches were against other untrained rookies and although they ended well for Prasong and JJ, the real contests were yet to begin.

"I should be," Prasong sighed, rubbing his hand down his face and reaching out to grab the cards JJ dealt for him.

"Because we're both going to die right?" JJ winked at him as Prasong rolled his eyes.

"Most probably," he replied.

"Hey - can I ask you a question?" JJ said, pausing as he laid down his first card and looked up with a serious expression. "Was your hair always that colour?"

Prasong snorted before extending his leg to kick JJ in the chest.

"I'm serious!" JJ laughed. "How do you get it so pink?"

"The Ringmaster took me to a Genie," Prasong shrugged, "he likes all his favourites to be of custom design."

"But you're a helixed?" JJ frowned. "I figured gene alteration wouldn't work on you guys."

"Helixeds can get aesthetic modifications same as anyone else," Prasong replied, "apart from the eyes, for some reason those can't be messed with."

"That's good," JJ grinned, "you look pretty with brown eyes." He picked up two cards from the deck before peering at Prasong again with a quirked eyebrow, "Did you get anything else done?"

Prasong cocked his head thoughtfully for a moment then smiled widely and pointed to his mouth, "Teeth whitening and lip staining."

"Lip staining?" JJ asked incredulously as Prasong won the hand and nodded at him. "Yup, 'Berry Blush', sample number 625. Got cheek shading done too but nearly everyone gets that," he explained.

"Wow, a real Little Doll huh?" JJ laughed, leaning backwards so they were both stretched out opposite each other.

"I told you not to call me that,” Prasong frowned before shrugging. “Life's a show, if you don't look the part, you'll lose the role to someone else."

"Maybe I should get something done?" JJ yawned, turning to bury his face in the crumpled bed sheets.

"I wouldn't get your hopes up," Prasong sniffed, "there's only so much a Genie can do."

He laughed a moment later as JJ chucked his cards at him. The aged and yellowed rectangles fluttered down to land in his lap. Prasong scooped them up and began to reshuffle the deck with practised ease. All the Circus workers entertained themselves with gambling games during the performance breaks and free time.

"We're allowed out from the residences next month," JJ announced suddenly, "the day before the fights - Dane told me."

"Want to run away?" Prasong smirked, proffering a number of cards to JJ who huffed a grim laugh before grabbing them.

"Yeah I've seen how that works out for people," JJ muttered, "the Polis is a cobweb that we're all stuck to like juicy fat flies ready to be gobbled up by one spider or another. We're not getting out of this that easy. I was thinking instead we could go get some real food?"

"No such thing as 'real' food anymore," Prasong replied, laying down a card and waiting for JJ's move.

"Real compared to the protein mulch we get served in here," JJ retorted, "something with shape - and maybe colour would be good."

"Fine," Prasong yawned, "we'll go on a hunt for a suitable last supper." He blinked at the played cards, "You won."

"We could have just kept going," JJ sniffed, "I wouldn't have noticed."

Prasong chuckled softly as he lay back down on the bed, letting his head rest against the lumpy pillow.

"Hey Prasong?" JJ whispered, shuffling down on the sheets so that they were lying top to toe.

"Yeah?"

"You ever seen an alien?"

Prasong laughed softly, "Oh sure, I visit the other Quadrants all the time in my personal starcraft."

JJ chuckled as he nudged Prasong’s head with his foot, "Tris says we might be going to war soon."

"With the Shon?" Prasong asked, blinking his eyes open again.

"Yeah! You heard it about it too?"

Prasong sighed and rolled over on his side, "They've been saying that for years, just trying to sell more papers. There's too much politics for them to ever actually do anything."

"Why do you say that?" JJ asked, propping himself up on his elbows.

"Don't know," Prasong shrugged, "guess I heard it somewhere. What does it matter anyway? Aliens aren't allowed in Quadrant One so it's not like you're ever going to run into one."

"I heard the Zia-li are really beautiful - they've got pictures in the paper at the moment," JJ murmured absently.

Prasong snorted, "Haven't you already got your hands full enough with human partners?"

JJ laughed loudly, the sound echoing around the room. Prasong smiled contentedly and nestled down further into the sheets, reaching to pull the blanket up over the two of them.

"I think I'd at least like to see an alien," JJ sighed.

"Go look in a mirror," Prasong retorted as JJ kicked his head again. "Hey! No I'm serious," Prasong giggled, "you're an illegal alien in Podolsk Polis!"

"Huh," JJ replied, turning over, "I guess I am."

"Try to sleep," Prasong murmured a moment later, "we'll need the energy for our practice fights if we don't want to die in the real thing next month."

"That's true," JJ hummed, "hey do you know any good songs for sleeping?"

"Only orphanage lullabies," Prasong admitted, "and I don't particularly feel like singing those." He waited in silence for a moment before asking, "What about you?"

"A couple," JJ murmured, "ones from the Eastern Territories my mother used to sing. They're in one of the old languages."

"Sing me one?" Prasong asked before closing his eyes. There was a moment of quiet when he thought JJ wasn't going to, but then he could hear the hummed notes of a gentle melody. A minute later, JJ started to sing in words Prasong couldn't understand but somehow felt old and soothing. Prasong fell asleep before the lullaby ended.