Status Quo rule no. 13 - A syndicate can’t rule the port for more than three years in a row.

After changing her clothes, she left her room without talking to the nurses or doctors. Mike and Kaya waited for her downstairs and they stepped out of the hospital together. She closed her eyes, inhaled deeply, then lit up a cigarette, exhaling the smoke with delight. 

“Who’s paying the bill?” She asked after a while.

“What? Oh, the hospital bill. Amit said he’ll take care of it.” Mike shrugged.

Skye raised her brows with surprise, but said nothing. A few more scars would add to her arsenal. 

Fantastic. 

Mike stared at her shaking hands, his eyes filled with worry. She paid him no mind, focusing instead on steadying her quivering palms. Deciding if she was more concerned about her murder attempt, about the guy who saved her, or about what Bradley would do, didn’t help calm her mind.

With a sigh, she focused on the traffic in front of the hospital. The differences between upper and lower Bayport were astonishing. Upper Bayport was always clean, neat, and in order. No empty bottles or used condoms on the floor, no leaking air-conditioners, and no half-dead hobos sleeping on the side of the pavements or asking for money for their next fill. The neon lights though, were the same everywhere. But while in upper Bayport they symbolized expensive bars, cafes, and restaurants, in the lower parts of the city, they stood for strip clubs, illegal casinos, and underground events. 

Even so, things could be much worse. While the UA was in charge, it took care of most things - built hospitals and invested in schools in the lower parts of the city, gave funding to the police and other social services, and even helped build shelters for the orphans. As long as those actions didn’t intervene with the syndicates, the UA wasn’t a bad organization nor was it a good one. They were the lesser evil that this island needed in order to survive. No ruling government could be perfect. Anything else would be close to a utopia, or to anarchy. 

 In the grand scheme of things, the UA did their best in maintaining the Status Quo, which was almost holy in Bayport.  

Skye put her cigarette out with her boot and took out her phone. The screen was shattered and the phone dead.

“Don’t worry, I can give you my old one if you want to.” Mike smirked.

“I don’t.”

“Anyway,” he rubbed the back of his neck, “Sierra invited you to lunch.”

“Why?” 

“Why not? Let’s go, I’ve parked there.” He pointed towards his red car. 

Arguing was an option, but the growl in her stomach won the fight. 

“Mama made pasta for you! She is the best!” Kaya jumped from side to side, grinning. 

How could she be so light-headed? It was because of her age, there was no other explanation. Skye never remembered herself as light-headed as a regular child, though. The few memories she did have were from different homes and different environments, different types of pain. 

Kaya started to sing some nonsense while jumping which made Skye roll her eyes at the chirping buzz the child was making.

They approached Mike’s old, red, electric car. The door shrieked as she opened it, and the metals of the chair clattered when she sat down. Mike could afford a better car, but most of the money he earned went to Kaya and Sierra, with another high percentage ‘donated’ to Bradley.   

Mike lived with his sister in the better part of the lower city. It was more expensive but also a safer place for raising a child, especially since the school in the area was almost decent, funded by the UA and charity from the syndicates. 

As part of the Status Quo, the UA made sure that the syndicates donated a small portion of their revenue to schools and hospitals while the UA funded most of them. This was among the reasons why many residents in lower Bayport regarded the UA not as villains, but as the heroes of their narratives. Before the UA took over Bayport, the poor couldn’t afford education or even hospitals. War was ongoing between the syndicates, and the people who could afford it, left the island in a search for a better future. 

For the past century, a lot has changed. The UA was the one to thank for that, although some people, especially the ones in the upper city tend to forget that.  

Skye gave Mike a side glance while he drove. His looks and talent had made him quite a celebrity throughout the league. He gained sponsors and campaigns, and could afford a better place for his family, although Bradley still monitored his accounts, as he did for all of his fighters. The amount of money he could receive was limited to the syndicate head’s greed. 

Even so, it was much more than the basic salary the UA League had provided. Mike had never won the League, but he got close last year when he took third place. Skye came fourth. 

As they entered the two-story house, the smell of cooking captured her attention and her stomach screamed at her again. 

Sierra kept the home clean and well organized. Plants stood on every corner and family photos hung on warm, beige colored walls. She took off her boots and followed Mike to the living room, her hands tucked in her pockets. It wasn’t her first time here but each time was unnatural and out of place.  

Sierra stepped out of the kitchen and asked Mike for help while Skye was left to entertain the child. Kaya, on the other hand, didn’t seem interested in being entertained and ran upstairs. 

Better that way. 

Skye cast a quick gaze around the house, where the smiling faces in the photographs seemed to follow her every move. Among them, some of Mike’s pictures captured him in the midst of battle, emphasizing his muscular physique and the crimson aura of his Hirou. Occasionally, she stumbled upon identical images of herself circulating on social media, but she didn’t think much of them. The fame the UA could bring wasn’t for her. She only wanted out. Living in a cage was a price too high to pay, no matter the allure of fame or fortune. 

Amidst the sea of photographs, one particular image of her caught Skye’s attention. She reached for it and held it up, her gaze fixed upon it for a prolonged moment. It was a recent addition. The photo featured Amit, his imposing figure with his customary folded arms taking center stage, while Mike, sporting a cheerful grin, held one arm at his side and the other extended for a selfie. She stood beside them, wearing a smile that she couldn’t remember having, but was undeniably genuine. 

Funny. 

One could have mistaken them for having fun, or even for being friends. 

“Skye! Call Kaya to the table, please!” Sierra shouted from the kitchen. 

She put the photo down and did as she was told. 

They sat at the table. Pasta with meatballs seduced her to take a bite, the salad next to it smelled as fresh as the morning rain. The food was simple but much better than she could have ever made. 

“I’m sorry for the pasta, but Kaya’s having her pasta phase.” Sierra apologized to which Skye shrugged with indifference. It wasn’t microwaved food, so it didn’t matter either way. 

Mike and Sierra were separated as kids when their parents divorced.

Sierra went with her mother, who one day grew tired of her and left her at a local church. She never saw her again. They never told Skye what had happened to Kaya’s father, but when Sierra found Mike at the UA, Kaya was already with her. 

Mike went with his father, who was a UA fighterback in the days. He sold Mike to Bradley when he was twelve and disappeared soon after, just like most of the UA fighters who are too old to fight. Mike had been there ever since. 

One could officially join the tournament only at eighteen, but the trade of young Hirou wielders to the syndicates was a well-known practice. They groomed and trained the kids to get a better chance at winning the UA League, and to keep the money flowing. A victory in the tournament granted control over the city’s port, allowing regulation of imports and exports for the other syndicates and corporations until the next year’s champion emerged. In a world heavily reliant on ports for the transportation of goods between various islands, holding control over the port was like controlling the airflow to the lungs.  

The Status Quo upheld by the syndicates held a sacred status, serving as the linchpin that prevented the city from descending into chaos like in the old days, before the takeover of the UA. The port was the only way to transfer anything from island to island. Air travel, while efficient, came at a steep cost and had limited cargo capacity. Each island depended on the others for essential commodities. Humans did everything in their power in order to survive, even cut deals with the devil himself. 

A syndicate that controlled the port, was almost the ruler of the city. Almost.  

When they were done with the food and Sierra sent Kaya for her afternoon nap, they all went to sit in their backyard. Mike brought them some beers. For Skye, it was another pleasurable opportunity to smoke. 

“You smoke too much, it’s not healthy for you, love,” Mike said.

“Getting shot is not healthy either, but I survived.” 

“I’m so sorry, Skye,” Sierra said, her brown eyes full of care. 

Skye just shook her head in return and inhaled the smoke. “Have you ever seen white Hirou?”

“There are only five colors to the Hirou. Everyone knows that.” Mike replied and sipped his beer.

“Well, the guy who saved me had white Hirou, so I think we’ve been lied to.” Inhale, exhale. She put out her cigarette and lit up another one. “He used his white Hirou to fight and he used it to heal me.”

“What are you even talking about? Hirou can’t heal.” His tone was filled with disbelief.

“I was shot. I had a freaking hole in my stomach last night. Do you see one now?” She lifted up her shirt. Mike and Sierra gazed at it for a long moment, examining and searching for any sign of injury. There was none. Not even a scar.  

“What the fuck?”

She shrugged her shoulders. 

“Did you tell Aiden? Or Bradley?” Sierra asked.

“No. I need to know more before I can do that. I don’t know who that man was, nor why he saved me. He could be hiding from the syndicates for all I know and come after me if I exposed him. You better keep this to yourself as well.”

“What if whoever attacked you will attack again?” Sierra asked with a troubled voice. 

“Then I sure hope this dude will be there again. Anyway,” she stood up and stretched, “give me a lift home.”

Mike chuckled in response. 

When she arrived back, she stopped to see if her bike was fine. One of the pros of living in one of Bradley’s apartment buildings was that no one dared to harm it or to its tenants, but she still checked her bike every day. The con was the rather expensive rent that Bradley forced her to pay. 

The bike parked where she had left it last night, Lily was sleeping on it, undisturbed. She petted the cat and went inside, stepping over a drunk teenager who slept with one eye half-open in the building’s hallway. 

As she opened the door, she kicked something. An envelope.

“I didn’t forget to pay. Aiden.”

Well, there was her money for a new phone.