Sparks

The nearest light fixture exploded in a shower of sparks and glass. Then another. And another. Darkness swept through the warehouse like a mining shaft collapse, broken only by the officers' helmet lights and the blue-white energy now visibly crackling across Jade's skin.

More figures pushed through the entrance - these in sealed hazmat suits. Not security. HMS containment specialists.

Jade's gaze locked onto the ancient conveyor system running along the warehouse wall - a relic from when this place actually processed ore. She ran, vaulting onto the rusted belt as her power surged through the metal. Behind her, the mechanism groaned and twisted, collapsing into the pursuing officers. Their shouts echoed through the loading chute as she slipped into the maze of maintenance tunnels that honeycombed the colony's industrial sector.

Their are 4 moons around the gas giant Victory Found, V2 and V3 had dipped below their apex, casting elongated shadows across Port City's streets, perfect cover for someone trying to stay hidden. Jade pressed against cold metal walls whenever patrol vehicles hummed past, their searchlights sweeping the darkness. Her heart hammered each time, but they moved on without stopping.

The Crystal Rocket's neon sign painted the night in electric pink and blue, its glow visible long before the throbbing bass reached her ears. Jade's muscles ached as she crouched in the alley across from the club, watching the steady stream of patrons.

Men in tailored suits strode through the doors like they owned the place, followed by what looked like a married couple - probably trying to spice up their relationship. Jade shifted her weight, careful to stay hidden behind a dumpster.

A group of women tottered up to the entrance in high heels, their laughter echoing off the buildings. Their perfectly styled hair and designer clothes screamed corporate drone. Each one flashed their Company ID at the bouncer.

"Oh my god, I can't wait to see Jaek 'The Thunder' perform!" One squealed, clutching her friend's arm.

"I heard he does this thing with a partner on stage-" Another chimed in before the heavy door cut off their conversation.

Jade rolled her eyes. These women probably spent their days in climate-controlled offices, sipping Corp-certified stimulants while their thirty-credit synthesized lunches printed out in perfect portions. The kind who'd brag about scoring 'Earth-authentic flavor profiles' in their food programs, like anyone in this mining hellhole even knew what 'real Earth food' tasted like. She could picture them huddled around their protein-sync stations, comparing conquest stories while their perfectly-printed meals materialized in corporate-approved colors and textures. Probably never had to choke down recycled protein paste or wait in the public synth lines like the rest of the colony's drones.

As the last woman slipped inside, Jade crossed the street, her shoulders hunched against the cold. Her bag thumping along her back. The alley was surprisingly clean and brightly lit. She gave two quick knocks on the employee entrance. Larry, the bouncer, opened the door, his deadpan expression greeting her with a raised brow.

"You look like shit," he remarked, tongue flicking against his teeth in a habit Jade found both irritating and disgusting. She'd once considered getting him a box of toothpicks as a gag gift but figured he wouldn't appreciate the humor.

"Right back at you," she shot back, glancing at the scars that covered the side of his face and neck—remnants of an accident during his mining days on V1, one of the toughest moons in The Company's territory, now destroyed by overmining. He probably survived on a meager pension and whatever jobs came his way, working behind the scenes where his scars wouldn't disturb customers.

Jade tried to slip past him into the hallway, but Larry blocked her with his leg. “I ain’t losing my job ‘cause of you,” he grumbled, giving her a once-over. Her current attire didn’t exactly meet the club’s dress code.

The Crystal Rocket had a strict policy: no mining gear, no shorts, and a minimum of dressy casual attire. Those who dressed better got seated closer to the action or earned private rooms. If you showed up under-dressed you could buy cheap, overpriced clothes at the front desk.

“I’ll grab something from Bree,” Jade muttered. She tried again to get past, but Larry didn’t budge. Frustration bubbled up, and she glared at him. “Okay?”

He sucked on his teeth again, then finally stepped aside. “Abby’s on a warpath tonight, so watch your ass,” he warned, referring to the club’s owner. Jade waved a dismissive hand without looking back.

“I ain’t shittn’, Jay,” Larry called after her. “There’s a bunch of government officials in town for some big meeting.”

High muckety-mucks, flashing credits to blow on young dancers, Jade thought with a roll of her eyes. Why should tonight be any different?

Jade slipped through the back hallways of the Crystal Rocket, her footsteps muffled by the pounding bass. The familiar scent of perfume and alcohol hung thick in the air. Careful to avoid Abby's office, she went straight to the dressing rooms where dancers prepared for their set.

Bree's station looked like a bomb had gone off - makeup scattered across the counter, costume pieces draped over chairs, and half-empty recycle-packs everywhere.

Jade maneuvered around Bree's chaos, eyeing the row of battered recycle-packs. Victory Water™️, they declared in bold letters, their faded labels at odds with claims of "Sourced from the pristine ice fields of V3!" - mockery to those who'd never tasted anything but processed moon-air water.

She knew the truth: port station dispensers had long lines and the water was far from pristine. The Corporation sold Victory Water™️ as luxury at premium prices, while bootlegged versions with slightly off logos served as quiet rebellion for those who couldn't afford the real thing. Everyone pretended not to notice the differences, collectively sustaining the illusion of luxury.

Catching sight of herself in the vanity mirror made her freeze. Grime and perspiration had tangled her hair in clumps where she'd fallen while fleeing.

Her skin pale beneath the harsh fluorescent lights. But her eyes - they belonged to a hunted animal, wild and dangerous. The girl staring back wasn't the same one who'd walked into the Pits hours ago. She looked feral. Dangerous.

Her fighting clothes reeked of sweat and adrenaline. Each piece felt like peeling off armor - the wrapped hands that had knocked Frank across the room, the sports bra spoke of evidence of what she really was. She stuffed them in her bag, hands shaking. Couldn't leave evidence.

Jade rifled through the chaos of Bree's wardrobe, pushing aside feathers and sequins until her fingers caught on something simple - a black dress. The fabric slipped like water through her fingers, cool and delicate. Not meant for someone who spent their nights getting punched in underground fights.

Her reflection watched as she pulled it on, the material clinging to places she usually kept hidden under baggy clothes. The dress belonged on someone else - someone who didn't have to duck into alleys when security passed by.

The makeup took three tries, her hands trembling as she covered bruises with concealer, painted on someone else's face. The girl in the mirror looked almost normal now. Pretty even. Like she belonged in this world of music and lights and sweet drinks

The stranger in the mirror stared back, polished and pristine. Too pristine. "Void my life," Jade muttered, wiping a smudge of lipstick from the corner of her mouth.

The club hit her like a physical wall - bass vibrating through her bones, lights stabbing her already sensitive eyes, bodies pressing too close. Her power hummed in response, making her skin prickle under Bree's borrowed dress. After the Pits, after Frank, all this INPUT felt like needles in her brain.

She pushed through the crowd, fighting the urge to lash out every time someone brushed against her. A hand grabbed her wrist - some suit with too much cologne and a practiced smile.

"Hey beautiful, can I-"

She jerked away before he could finish, power surging beneath her skin. The guy's face hardened at the rejection, but another girl caught his eye. Thank the Void.

The bar came into focus through the pulsing lights - Terrance already reaching for the good syrup before she could sit down. His dark dreads were pulled back tight, those kind eyes catching hers with immediate concern.

"Damn, Jay." He kept his voice low, just between them. "You look like you went ten rounds with a mining drill." The glass he slid her way was violently pink, loaded with enough sugar to drop a normal person.

Her hands shook as she reached for it. "That obvious?"

"Only to someone who knows what to look for." He turned away to serve another customer, giving her space like he always did. That's why she trusted Terrance - he knew when to push and when to let her breathe.

"You have no idea how much I need this," Jade whispered to no one. She ran her tongue along the sugared edge before tipping back the entire drink. The fruity sweetness exploded across her tongue, washing away the metallic taste of adrenaline that had lingered since the warehouse.

"One of those nights, huh?" Terrance's perfect smile gleamed as he watched her drain the glass. His gaze dropped to her hands, and he reached beneath the counter. A moment later, he slid over a pack of gel ice wrapped in a clean bar towel.

"You're one in a million, Ter." Jade pressed the pack against her swollen knuckles, wincing slightly. The pain was duller than expected, barely a throb compared to how hard she'd hit. Frank's face flashed through her mind - the way blood spraying from his mouth as he crumpled to the warehouse floor. The pack numbed her skin but did nothing for the acid churning in her stomach. I'm seriously messed up. How many more people am I going to hurt?

Terrance leaned against the bar, his eyes lingering on Jade. "You know, Jay, that dress really suits you. Brings out the fire in your eyes." He winked, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

Jade rolled her eyes, but a small smile played on her lips. "Yeah, yeah, save it for the paying customers, Ter." She shifted the pack on her knuckles, wincing slightly. "Hey, Larry mentioned something about high officials in town. You hear anything about that?"

Terrance's smile faded, replaced by a more serious expression. "Yeah, word is there's some big meeting happening. Lots of important people flying in from V2 and V3." He leaned in closer, lowering his voice. "Abby's been on edge all night, making sure everything's perfect."

Jade raised an eyebrow. "Any idea what the meeting's about?"

Terrance shrugged, his lips pulling into a thin line. "No idea, Jay. All I know is they've got more credits than they know what to do with, and Abby's ready to take as many as she can."

Jade sighed, her gaze drifting over the crowd. Men and women laughed and danced, oblivious to the unease curling in her stomach. Whatever the meeting was about, it couldn't be good. Big wigs from V2 and V3 only came down to Port City when they wanted something. And it was never something that benefited the people who actually lived there.

Terrance gestured to the private section where Abby fussed about, catering to her guests' every whim. By Jade's estimate, a dozen suited men occupied the trio of alcoves, each one entertained by a dancer who gyrated atop their table with practiced expertise.

The sugar rush hit Jade's bloodstream, a temporary shield against the exhaustion threatening to pull her under. She'd need more than a fruity cocktail to recover from tonight, but it was a start. Terrance moved away to serve another customer, leaving her alone with her thoughts—a dangerous place to be right now.

"There's my favorite disaster!" Bree, Jade's one and only friend, came up behind her and give her a hug around the neck.

Jade barely heard her friend's greeting. That metallic scent had just hit her—diluted by expensive cologne now, but unmistakable. Her hand clenched around her glass as she watched them walk through the crowd, all corporate-casual in bought suit jackets that didn't quite fit right. Like wolves trying to dress as sheep.

The twins.

They moved through the club with practiced confidence, scanning the room like they owned it. With the Pitt's chaos, she'd almost forgotten about them—the strange pair from the bakery with their identical faces and that burnt metal smell that now made her skin crawl for reasons she couldn't explain.

Bree slid onto the bar-stool beside her, a vision in a shiny silver dress, her long beautiful red hair a beacon in the dim club. She followed Jade's gaze across the room, her perfect eyebrows drawing together.

Her power surged, making the lights above flicker. Terrance said something about the power grid going out, but his voice was lost under the roaring in her ears. She needed to run. Needed to get Bree away from-

Bree was already moving toward them, drawn like a moth to flame. "Oh honey, look at THEM..."

"Bree, don't-" But her friend was already gone, slipping through the crowd toward identical men.

Bree approached their table, but before she could recite the club's offerings, both men rose in perfect sync - a mirror image splitting in two. They moved with an unnatural grace, flowing around Bree like liquid metal. A scatter of credits hit the table - high-denomination Corp chips that glowed with authenticity markers. Too much for drinks. Way too much.

They guided her toward the private rooms with identical gestures, their movements so smooth it made Jade's stomach lurch. Like watching apex predators in those old Earth documentaries - the ones where pack hunters choreographed their kill with terrifying precision. And Bree, laughing at their corporate charm, had no idea she was being herded.

"Jay?" Terrance's voice seemed far away. "Your glass..."

She looked down. Hairline cracks spread across the surface where her fingers gripped too tight. The sugar rush was fading, leaving her shaky, desperate.

The club lights fractured around her, turning dancers into stop-motion puppets. Bass notes stretched and warped, each beat hammering against her skull. Her skin felt too tight, like something trying to molt.

Bree's silver dress strobed through the crowd - three steps away, then suddenly across the room. Time hiccuped around her. The twins' movements left ghost-trails in the air, their wrongness making reality bend.

Her jaw locked so hard her teeth creaked. Ice crawled up her spine while her palms burned. The thing inside her recognized them, reached for them, tried to tear its way free.

"Void help me," she whispered, forcing herself up from the bar. Her legs shook with each step toward the VIP section, power crackling beneath her skin. She couldn't stay away. Not with Bree in there.

Not with them.