I found out later that Suzuka had gotten burnt, but not from the plane exploding. The client’s tears had been corrosive in nature. In fact, the waterfall of tears had been so acidic that the fallout from her attack had eaten into buildings.

When I visited Suzuka at the hospital later that week with a bouquet of green and black peonies, I was prepared for the worst.

As I entered her room, I was met with a smile half hidden in bandages. It turns out that Suzuka was lucky. She received no injuries when she was ejected from the plane and most of her body had missed the caustic acid. The left side of her face had received a small splattering, as had her left arm.

“They’re pretty sure I’m 80% blind in my left eye.” Suzuka explained to me, an inappropriate grin on her face.

“That’s horrible.”

“I thought so at first, but apparently they’re going to fit me with a bionic eye, for free!” She seemed to almost burst with excitement. “It’s part of our company’s medical insurance plan. I get to choose the colour and everything! Oh, and I’m still going to be able to fly, once my burns heal.”

I must admit, it warmed my heart to see Suzuka so optimistic. At the same time though, I was concerned about her mental health. She could read my face like a book and replied with an eye roll.

“Maggie, I’m fine. You don’t have to psycho-analyse me.”

“Alright, I won’t go counsellor on you.” I said with a small chuckle. “Just promise me you won’t rush back into work, okay? You need to heal physically.”

“I’m already itching to go back though.” She sighed and began scratching at the bandages on her cheek.

“You sure that’s not just your wounds healing?”

We both giggled at that.

“You know, I thought Mateo would be with you.” Suzuka said, sounding a little dejected.

I frowned. I had asked Mateo to come with me, but he kept making excuses not to come out today. It didn’t take a psychologist to know why he was dodging this.

“He’s avoiding me, isn’t he?”

“I think he feels responsible for your injuries.”

Suzuka slammed her arms down onto the bed so suddenly I almost jumped out of my seat.

“Well he’s an idiot then! I was the one who got between him and the client in a plane using cloaking technology. Heck, they made me sign a liability form! He’s not even responsible for all of this legally!”

I rubbed my forehead with a hand.

“That’s not how guilt works unfortunately.”

“Yeah, I know.” Suzuka sighed. “I just think it’s dumb that he’s working himself up over this.”

“You did literally lose your eye over it. Besides, Mateo is very empathetic in nature.”

Suzuka crossed her arms.

“He didn’t seem that empathic about Chloe.”

“It’s easier to dehumanise clients, I suppose.”

It was at that point that I wondered if the DOPD specifically chose protectors who valued the lives of the general public over clients. It wasn’t an idea that I necessarily agreed with, but it was one I could understand. The point of a protector was to protect their teammates and the citizens of Adour from the client. Valuing one group of lives over another was an unspoken rule to them.

“Clients are human though. Well whatever, I don’t really want to talk about that anymore.”

Like that, the conversation about Mateo was over. As Suzuka and I had a mundane discussion, I couldn’t help but ponder about Mateo. He must have had a reason why he was so hostile towards clients and why he chose to become a protector. Nobody’s opinion is created in a vacuum.

Eventually, our dialogue came to an end and I said goodbye to Suzuka. It was late afternoon as I took the monorail back to my apartment.

I watched the news on my phone. There was another attack today on the poorer side of the city. The culprits were a well-known group that call themselves The Slayers. They’d managed to capture and kill a solitary client in an abandoned warehouse. The client had turned out to be a runaway teenager.

The sight of the client’s slumped body on my phone’s screen made my heart ache. What had been the catalyst? Were they angry at someone, or had they just been lonely? I tried to get a better look at the client’s form by zooming in.

The body had soft velvety fur and semi-circle shaped ears. My stomach turned as hard as a rock before I reminded myself that the victim had been a teenager. It wasn’t Chloe. I felt relief wash over me, only to get smacked in the face by my conscience. Any client’s death is a tragedy, no matter who they are. Why did The Slayers think they could control who got to live or die?

Near the end of the report, the newscaster stated they’d caught surveillance footage of some of The Slayers on a drone. In the footage, three people wearing balaclavas climbed into the warehouse through a broken window. The third person had noticed the drone and shot it down with some sort of projectile.

The report ended with some previous attacks the group had done, but I wasn’t listening. With an unsteady finger, I double tapped on the left side of my phone’s screen twice.

I watched the third masked person shoot the drone down again and then again. As I suspected, they were wearing a plain grey shirt and black jeans. A timeless classic, and still popular enough as a fashion choice to belong to anyone. What brought my fears into reality though was the barely noticeable glow around the concealed figure. This was a little known side effect from overexposure to a client’s afterglow, especially if there aren’t enough absorbers to counteract it.

Logic prevailed and there was nothing I could do to justify it. The third masked Slayers member was Mateo.