By the time I’m down, they’re already pressed against the wall. I’m by them in an instant as I hear a cart being rolled by at an intersection down the hallway. 

Rieka motions for us to wait as she darts to the other side of the hall. She peers out a window. I shoot up beside her to get a look. 

The connection of buildings creates a U shape around a loading bay with a truck reverse parked into it. Crates of these cylinders are being unloaded from a truck by corpsolds. They’re being carried into an elevator beneath us. Their boots splatter in the puddles of grime as they lift. What the fuck are corpsolds doing at a bread factory? 

“Stitch marks on the logo,” Rieka mutters. “He was right. We continue.” 

“Why are there corpsolds?”

Rieka forces my head down as the driver of the truck steps out, looking around. 

I chuckle. “I see you’re into head pushing. Me too.” 

Rieka shoots to where the elevator door is, pressing the button. Deqar beside her, screwing a silencer onto his pistol. She shakes her head. “Too loud.” 

A baker walks by on our left. Rieka reflexively spins, kicking her directly in the neck, knocking any scream back down. The baker drops, letting out a strangled cry. Rieka is behind her immediately, choking her down. 

“Choking too. Nice. I can get with that.” 

The elevator light turns on. 

“It’s coming,” Deqar says. 

Rieka drops the unconscious baker just as the doors open. 

“Oi. You know you’re not supposed to use the lift on this side.” 

The butt of Deqar’s gun smashes into his temple, followed by a hook, breaking his jaw. He falls forward, onto a full crate of silver canisters. I step in with Rieka as the elevator doors clamp shut behind us.

“Take one, then we’ll go back up and back into the vents. We can get out of here before they notice they’ve been robbed.” 

The baker in an oddly equipped uniform groans. Deqar grabs his hair, lifting his head and slamming him back down on the side of one of the canisters. He then slides one of them into his vest. 

“Problem,” I mutter, pointing at the control panel. 

The basement floor is already selected. 

Rieka presses for the top floor, but there is no response. 

We exchange glances as the elevator descends. 

“Get behind the crate. Move his body. As soon as the doors close again we head back up,” Rieka instructs. Deqar nods and we cram behind the crate. 

Deqar’s perfume strangles me. I try to move myself closer to Rieka. She smells of rain. How does that even work? 

When the doors open, both of them duck down and freeze. There’s a heavy, low, whirring sound. 

I can’t help it. I peek. 

“No fucking way,” I breathe, standing up. 

The elevator leads to a black metal catwalk, which extends over a hangar so huge, it looks like a chasm. I step towards the doors, stopping them from closing. “Fuck me.” Below the spiderweb of catwalks is the source of the hum, emitting a low, throbbing red light that basks the hangar in scattered shadow. It looks like a fucking nuclear reactor. Too bright to look at, swirling with interchanging parts that click and lock. It sits like a dragon in its cave, fat and happy at the bottom of the pit. Hundreds of ‘baker’ corpsolds are rushing around on metal walkways that hang by cables are pulling gears and typing into mounted keyboards. 

“Kallix! Get back right fucking now!” Rieka hisses. 

“Are you fucking seeing this?” I ask, incredulous. I recognize the smell. I detect oil, paraffin, bread, disinfectant and metal, but there’s something else. Something familiar. 

A pair of corpsolds climb the ladder to the catwalk parallel to me. I drop. They activate the elevator on that side and wait. One of them looks over. They speak to each other. 

Fuck. 

Rieka is holding the elevator door with an outstretched leg. “Get in here. Move. Now.” 

If I stand they’ll see me. I crawl, moving like a spider towards the door. 

Shouting erupts as I bowl into the doors, shutting narrowly behind me. The elevator begins to ascend. 

“Idiot.” Deqar spits. “Fucking idiot, would’ve cooked us all.” 

I smile, lopsided. “You still don’t know who I am? Would’ve cooked you two. Kallix Rane doesn’t get caught. I’m the one stirring the pot, never the one getting cooked.” 

The elevator stops. The light turns from white to red. A siren blares. 

Rieka’s eyes are daggers. 

“Anybody have a screwdriver?” I ask. 

It takes a second for Deqar to process, then he’s clinging to the ceiling, held entirely by upper body strength, pocket knife screwdriver working on the safety panel. 

Rieka shoves a canister into my hands. “Take this,” she says, putting one in her backpack as well. “Better odds one of us gets it to the Shark.” 

The panel drops to the ground with a clang. Rieka jumps on the crate and then up, lifting herself swiftly into the elevator shaft. Deqar swings up after her, then me. 

The thick metal cables and the complicated ridges of the wall make for an easy climb. Holding the cables with our hands and using the wall as leverage, we pass the doors of first floor. “Shouldn’t we try to open these?” I ask. 

In response, I hear a spark coming from the other side. Heat blares from the doors as they open an inch, someone barking in the hallway. I leap up, avoiding my shoes from being melted, and scuttle after the others. 

“They’ll be swarming the halls we have to get to the roof,” Rieka says. 

The first floor doors are opened further, as we’re passing the second. “Aye! They’re up there, I can see them!” shouts one of them, poking his head through the gap. 

“Get these doors open! The rest of you head to the top!” 

I fling my canister down, sniping the man in the forehead with a satisfying thud. “Is there a way out up there?” 

We’ve passed the second floor, heading to the roof. It’s dark, full of wires. Deqar fumbles around, holding himself up with one hand and searching for a way out with the other. “I’m not sure. I can’t find a latch or anything.” 

“Nobody happens to be an electrical engineer by chance? Do elevators usually have a latch that leads to the roof?” I ask. 

The second set of doors is now buzzing, sparks flying from the partition. 

Rieka climbs up next to him, hands grasping in the dark. “Fuck. I don’t think there’s anyway through here.” 

“Guess we go for the window,” I decide. 

“There’s no fucking window.” 

I push off the cable, leaping across the shaft and grabbing on to a handle next to the doors as they’re being forced open. A bar is crammed in between them. It begins pumping the doors open. As soon as they’re wide enough for a skinny thing like me, I swing inside. 

I’m met, face to face with legs. And where there are legs, there is a groin. My fist slams up and receives a satisfying scream. But before I can grasp my bearings, hands and grabbed my shoulders. I shunt myself backwards, kicking upwards and hitting someone’s neck. The man who grabbed me folds his arms around me into a bear hug, trapping me. I squirm, kicking out, but I realize there are six of them. One gripping his balls. Two, quickly securing my legs. These are people, not corpsolds. People are frail. Killable. 

“What kind of pathetic runt is this? Hungry for bread are we?” The last words barely exit his mouth as he is shot through the head. I watch the bullet’s clean exit lead into carving through the next man’s cheek. 

Deqar climbs through the gap. Shooting again and again. 

My legs are free. I whirl, grabbing a chair from the hall and smashing it into the window. Instead of diving, I step on the sill and twist, finding a cable above me that I can grab. I use it to swing out of the way of the window and scramble up onto the roof. 

A drizzle has started. A pretty, dainty drizzle that cools the sweat on my face. A view of people still walking on the road, batting through a thicket of smog. The Sky Rail beams high above me, cutting through the clouds. Blue lights pulsing from its holographic tracks, carrying workers and officials. It is a needle of productivity. A vessel, a vein of the corporate bloodstream, delivering its conscious particles to generate its electrical impulses. Feigning a living thing. A living thing with glass for flesh and code for fat. It’s beautiful really. In a sickening way. 

Rieka is grunting, scrabbling to get onto the roof. The cable rips and she shouts, gripping the wet edge. 

I look down at her. Her hand bleeds, cut on a metal sheet. 

I like the way she struggles. The way she fights. It’s clear. True. Fiery. 

She slips further, held by both her arms as she kicks against the slick surface. 

There are more gunshots from below. I hear Deqar scream. 

I kneel down, admiring. She really is beautiful. 

I see a grimy, wrinkled hand with chipped, black painted fingernails shoot up onto the roof. Deqar grunts, hauling himself up. He rolls onto his back, locking his arm into Rieka’s and twisting, pulling her up on top of him. 

“We should probably get going, eh?” I say, standing up. 

The corpsolds are fanning out into the loading dock. They’re armed with assault rifles. 

I flatten myself down as bullets skitter over the roof. I start crawling. Deqar and Rieka follow. I lead them across the roof, moving through piles of waste and puddles of sticky black liquid. Once the trajectory is favorable, I stumble into a run, bolting to the edge of the roof and leaping down. I hit a broad metal tube that snakes the wall and get knocked backward, hitting the edge of a waste container and landing on the ground with a thud. 

Deqar and Rieka land on their feet beside me. 

They’re already gone, dashing towards the road.

I pick myself up, head spinning. I can see his obtuse mohawk fading in the distance. 

I’m chasing them, vaulting and leaping through the industrial jungle around me, back towards the pedestrian road. I can catch them. Or I can disappear. 

Police sirens. Ah. 

Deqar and Rieka are powering down the sidewalk, knocking people out of the way. Idiots. 

I turn the other direction, pulling my hood and walking. I try to hide my limp with my overwhelming nonchalant aura. It doesn’t work. 

Two police SUV’s careen past me. “Yeah, go get ‘em!” hollers a teenager. 

I divert into an alley, splashing through puddles of trash. Let them get caught. I’ve done my part. 

A cloaked junkie lashes out at me. I dodge and let him fall onto his face. 

I’ve done Zorikan’s job for him. He should let Dad go. Why would he though? Shark’s don’t set prey free. He doesn’t have me though. Nobody can catch me. That’s just how it is. He’ll kill Dad once he realizes that he’s useless to me. That’s for the better. Kaloaan needs to get over it. He needs to move on. He doesn’t realize how much of an idiot he is. He thinks those two are still our parents. He thinks I’m still his brother. He’s so stubborn. He won’t stop fighting until either we are his family again, or we’re dead. So it’s better if Dad dies, so Kaloaan can move on with his life. Like fuck, grow up. Death isn’t bad. It just is. It’s just nothing. Nothing can’t be bad because it’s nothing. People who are scared of nothing are just missing the cognitive abilities to comprehend it. It’s torture that’s more scary. Dad deserves to die, not to be tortured by that hollow husk of a man. 

I can tell him where the building is, but it’s not like Dad will be there when Kaloaan shows up.

I have options.  

A fist connects with my face. 

I’m on the ground. 

Handcuffs lock against my wrists. “Hey buddy, sorry about this. Name’s Tash. I’m a colleague of your brother, he said I should look out for you on these sides. Lucky me right? Anyway, you’ve gotta come with me real quick, just some questions, nothing serious.” 

I’m dragged into the back of a car, head still spinning from the strike. 

Suddenly, the world is white. I’m blinded. It’s so harsh that I scream. Fuck. Fuck. Shutting my eyes doesn’t even help. It’s so bright it burns through my eyelids. I curl in on myself, crying out, as I try to shield my head with my body. 

“Just a formality, don’t worry about it,” Tash says from the front seat. “I’ll turn it down in a second, just want to make sure you’re going to answer us.” 

“No. Keep it on,” says another voice. I recognize this one. A female. The same one who shot up Tauren’s concert. Kaloaan’s deputy. “He needs to know what enforcement is without his brother protecting him.” 

“Alright, Firida, you’re in charge. Would like to point out the permanent brain damage over one minute of exposure.” 

“Set a sixty one second timer.” 

I snap, “What the fuck do you want to know? Just ask me.” 

“Where’s your father.” 

“In some fucking building on the outskirts. It’s not finished construction. But he won’t be there when you reach. Zorikan’s got some underground cable transport system. I didn’t see it I was blinded.” The words rip out of me as fast as possible.

“Happens to you a lot eh?” Tash remarks. 

“Let me out,” I groan. 

“Do you know about our inside man?” 

“No! Yes, but not who.” 

“Good. So you’re heading back to Zorikan after this, right?” 

“Fuck, fine. Turn this shit off and I’ll suck your dick.” 

“Good,” Firida says. “Now get out.” 

The door opens and Tash helps me out. “Well done Kallix, thanks for your cooperation. You’re brother’s doing well. The bullet was deep but he’s getting top of the line treatment. Surgery was done quick, so he’ll be back on his feet in a week most likely. I’ll tell him you said hi.” 

“There’s not a chance he authorized this bullshit,” I grunt, shrugging his long arms off me. “When I seem him he’ll court martial your bitch ass.” I get a good look at him finally, through the white blots floating in my vision. He looks more nerdish than his voice would suggest. Rectangular glasses framing thin, shaggy hair and warm features. 

Tash scoffs. “As department Head of Intelligence, I can do whatever I want. Firida is his deputy officer. He needs us more than he needs you not locked up. That luxury hangs by a thread.” He looks so smug. So amused. How much joy does it bring him to know he can bully a street boy? 

I sneer at him.

Firida steps towards me, sunglasses ever present. Her face is stone. “You fuck up one more time, kid, and you’re done.” 

“I did exactly what Kaloaan asked.” 

“And now you’ve got the chance to fuck up as I expected you to. And once you do, we will clean you off these streets. Kaloaan doesn’t deserve the worry you cause him and this city doesn’t deserve the havoc. He’s praying on a dream he knows isn’t real. He’s in denial. The sooner we get you in a white box, the faster he will get his vision focused again. Go to Zorikan right now.”