Lucky for Kiana, all her mom wants to talk about is bionics and research. That much she can do-- being a bounty hunter means that getting professional help isn’t exactly an option, so you learn to do your own repairs. So much as let the ACA think you’re “weaponizing” your bionics and they’ll bust down your door. That’s a headache neither of them need. Any time that she makes an offhand comment about “repairing personally modified cybernetics”, her roommate gives her a glare. Years of living together has turned Kiana into a Best Buy employee, and Caelius the overclocked gaming PC that gets brought in once a month for maintenance.

When Hendrick and Isaac come downstairs, her luck starts to run out. “No more science talk. Tell me about the frat parties and the cheating scandals and the… whatever else happens at USC,” demands Isaac.

Kiana rolls her eyes. Such a characteristically sixteen question. “I don’t have any stories. I spent most of my time studying.”

For her, it’s easier to dismiss a comment than lie her way through an answer. Caelius sorely disagrees, though. Just minutes later, everyone’s doubled down over the kitchen counter, listening to her talk about a sophomore who got caught trying to orchestrate a cup stacking tournament in the communal bathrooms. Her eyes light up at every crescendo and Kiana can’t help but almost believe it. The way she makes lying look so easy is admirable. Kiana’s thankful that they’ve always been on the same side. She does not want to be on the business end of any ordeal Caelius is involved in.

“Momma, if Kiki’s here, do I still have to go to that gala?” asks Vivian from upstairs, draped over the railing. She’s been waiting for the story to end for a while.

“What, you don’t wanna wear the nice dress you picked out? Yes, you still have to go. All of us are invited.”

Vivian groans as she disappears back into her room. Caelius drums her fingers on the counter and looks around curiously, awaiting an explanation. Kiana seems reluctant to take the bait.

“Some big shot scientist hosts this banquet every year for a bunch of bionics people. Shareholders, agents, and researchers--” Hendrick pats his mother on the shoulder-- “all get to go. And the guy’s filthy rich, so people take advantage and bring all the guests they can.”

“Emmanuel Nikos,” Kiana says, only bothering to hide the contempt enough that her family doesn’t notice. Caelius, however, takes it as the hint that this is the guy she’s after.

“Nikos has done a lot for us,” her mom begins. “He funded my research and has a big say in policy making for the American Cybernetics Association. With his help, there’s almost nobody with unregistered bionics in the entire county.”

‘Help’ is the last word she’d use to describe the way he breaks into people’s homes to steal and resell their bionics. Kiana swallows the feeling that she’s about to swing a bat at a hornet’s nest. “I’ve heard some not-so-great things about those ACA policies. If it goes through, his latest proposal will privatize a ton of cybernetics programs.”

“And give us a whole world of research that we can actually act on. Bionics research is still sorely underfunded in some places.”

What does it matter when the results are never going to end up in the hands of the people who need them most? she thinks to herself. She can’t tell her mom that she’s seen the damage firsthand. The impoverished citizens in years-long waiting lists for a simple procedure. The aggressive repossession policy for people caught with unregistered bionics. How could she even think about being a lab technician when being a mercenary means actually making a direct difference? She lets go of the frustration for now. Caelius offers her a gentle pat on the wrist beneath the counter. 

“Well, regardless, you’d best be getting a dress. You too, Charlie,” Kiana’s mother continues, pointing at her with a spoon before plunging it into her cup of coffee. She mentions something about ‘Nikos holding two mechanical engineering grads in high praise’, but all Kiana hears is static. A banquet is an ugly place to throw down-- too many eyes watching, too many things that can go wrong. Caelius has always been the one who’s fond of having an audience, not her. But if she doesn’t catch him now, it’s gonna be a hell of a lot harder once he’s a hell of a lot richer. If it means keeping bionics in the hands of those who desperately need them, she can put up with the spectators, just this once.

The shopping district bathes in a lamplit glow as the last of the sun’s light reflects off of the water in the bay. It’s a far cry from any of the coastal cities of California, but there’s a comfort to it. Everyone is just as warm and welcoming as the string lights hung across the main road.

Kiana shoves the dressing room curtain to the side and gestures broadly to herself. The gown just barely skirts the floor and covers her entire right arm, but it’s a bright, iridescent white. Hardly inconspicuous for someone who plans on getting into a fight with the host. But neither is a bionic arm.

“You want the short answer or the long answer?” asks Caelius, still wearing the navy blazer her roommate insisted she try on.

“Give me the long answer first,” Kiana answers.

“We’re gonna make a scene no matter what we do-- no flashy dress or amount of an exposed arm can change that. But more important than that, the only way that you’re gonna keep Nikos from making this deal is by doing it your way. The Lennox Daughter can’t roll up to a banquet and talk a millionaire bionics investor out of a deal. But Kiana Lennox can.”

She almost makes it sound poetic. Kiana offers a halfhearted smile of acknowledgment. “What’s the short answer?”

“It’s hideous.”

A groan, followed by the sound of her body slumping against the wall. “My mom insisted I get this one. Says it makes a good first impression. I think that’s for her sake and not mine, though.”

“It makes a ‘mom wearing white to her daughter’s wedding’ impression. Are you sure there isn’t something else that you like more?”

“It’s fine. I only have to wear it once, right?”

They walk out with their purchases and make it halfway through the shopping district before slowing to a stop. Sounds of struggle come from farther down the street, right out of reach of the lamplight. The instincts kick in and Kiana and Caelius, ever the chasers of trouble, immediately pull towards the source. They keep close to the storefronts before dipping down into the alley, where the cries echo the loudest.

“Walk away,” a woman’s shaky voice insists. “Walk away right now.”

“I can’t do that yet,” someone else answers. “Just give me what I’m asking for and I’ll be gone. That’s it.”

They go back and forth like that for a while, the woman finding it more and more difficult to stand her ground. Caelius is ready to lunge into the alley and beat the guy within an inch of his life, but Kiana holds her back. This is her hometown, and her fight.

“How am I supposed to give it to you if it’s attached to me?” she says. “I can’t see without it. I’m sorry I don’t have the paperwork, I swear I’m working on it. But please, just leave me alone.”

“One good eye is better than no good eyes. I can arrange that if you don’t hurry this up.”

Kiana slinks down the corridor and pulls herself out of the shadows. “I can, too,” she says, “but it won’t be for her.”

His height advantage is only a couple of inches; Kiana holds back a laugh as he tries to size her up. He reaches for her throat but can barely make it halfway before Kiana’s hand latches onto his wrist. Almost immediately, he can feel the iron grip. Fuck. I should’ve gone in with my other hand. She nods down the alley and the woman disappears.

“Tell me about what’s under this glove,” he insists. 

“Tell me why you’re mugging a stranger in an alley. Two of them, actually.”

“She has something my boss wants.” His lips curl into an idiotic smile when he adds, “and I think you do, too. Unregistered bionics are a crime subject to repossession.”

“You don’t look like much of a cop. It’s not for sale.”

“It can be.” He twists his arm over his head, freeing himself from Kiana’s grip. She narrowly dodges a blow into her gut and retaliates with a punch between his shoulder blades. Her fist grabs hold of his t-shirt and she slams him against the brick wall, letting him hack up a lung before kicking him in the groin.

“Emmanuel Nikos. Are you working for him?”

He coughs the dirt out of his mouth. “If you’re asking,” he utters, “you already know.”

She lets out a frustrated groan and knees him in the groin one more time, watching the hollow suggestion of a man shrivel to the ground. Kiana rips the gloves from her hands and tosses them beside his body before storming out of the alley without another word.