A shrill beeping screamed in Dion’s ear, startling him awake. The mystery sound continued to elude him until he saw the tiny flashing light on his Cuff. ‘INCOMING CALL’- There was no caller ID. He swiped the face, but the ancient device didn’t respond. 

He swiped again; no luck. Dion blinked at the illuminated screen, trying to make heads or tails of what he was looking at. Surely it’s not that old? He double-pressed a worn-out button on the side, and the call picked up. Never mind, I guess it is that old…

“You’re not going to like it.” The robotic voice stated, dropping Dion right into the middle of a thought. E.Mortal didn’t like small talk, but Dion didn’t like waking up. He relaxed back into his pillow.

“What?” Dion rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. His head was killing him. It felt like someone had attempted to scramble his brain with an egg beater.

“The job. It’s worth it. You’ll never have to see Yoshida again.”

“I didn’t mention Yoshida.”

“I know who you are, Dion. I know who you owe money to.” The statement was so matter-of-fact that Dion’s muscles tensed by reflex. He knew E.Mortal was good at digging up dirt, but just how much did he have? He pushed the thought down. Better to live in ignorance. There were already enough problems. 

“Then you know I’ll take any job. I don’t have time to be picky.”

“It’s not for you.”

“What? Why are you calling me?” Sometimes talking to the guy was like drawing blood from a stone.

“It’s for Atticus.” 

Dion froze. “No. Absolutely not. Not after last night, there is no way.”

“I don’t think you have a choice, Dion. Yoshida has more than a quick death in mind for you,” the distorted voice said with a sigh. The changer made it hard to tell if the person on the other end was sincere. “But I don’t need to tell you that, do I?” 

Okay, now he’s rubbing salt in the wound.

Dion winced and rubbed at his chest. It didn’t hurt much anymore, but he still felt exhausted. E.Mortal was right. He couldn’t just let money go. Not right now. He needed every digit he could get. They needed every digit they could get.

“I’ll talk to him.” Dion covered his face to block the sunlight that filtered through the window, swinging his feet over the edge of the bed. He was still wearing his boots. He only vaguely recalled finding Atty in the middle of a seizure. Everything else felt like a blur. He couldn’t remember dragging himself into bed.

“I already did,” E.Mortal replied, “He was the one who told me to call you. You didn’t answer the door when he knocked. He was getting worried.”

Dion swore and shot up. “I’ll call you back.”

“You have a meeting with the client at 11:00. Don't be late; she won’t give you another chance. Atticus has the address.”

“I didn’t accept the job yet.”

“You will.” E.Mortal ended the call.

Dion scowled at the DataCuff. He wasn’t sure if E.Mortal was generally good at manipulating people or just an expert at manipulating him. The brothers had done multiple contracts for the mysterious individual in the past, even before Dion quit Yoshida’s gang. All freelancers did. E.Mortal always knew where there was work and where there was a soul desperate enough to do it.

In the living room, Atty was sitting at the table watching a show on his Cuff, his chin resting on an empty water bottle. He snickered quietly to himself at a one-liner, blissfully unaware that Dion was watching him from the doorway. 

There was so much Dion wanted to say to his brother, but somehow, the words never came. All he could think about was finding Atty on the floor the night before. He wasn’t sure how long he had been like that. The doctors had told them multiple times that if the seizures didn’t stop quickly, Atty’s body was going to shut down completely. It terrified Dion every time it happened. He didn’t know what he would do if he lost his brother.

When Dion approached, Atty jumped and stared at him wide-eyed. The tension was so thick you would need an angle grinder to cut through it. Dion didn’t have one of those. He did have a weak stomach watching the regret form in real-time on Atty’s face. When did everything become so strained?

“I’m sorry,” Atticus said first, looking away shamefully. He scratched the spot above his ManaTech implant. The enamel had already worn off again from all the anxious fidgeting. Dion wasn’t sure if Atty even knew how often he touched it.

It’s my fault. Dion shook his head, running a hand through his greasy hair. “I should have been home sooner.”

Stifling silence followed again. 

“Did you talk to E.Mortal?” Atty was always the first to break the silence. 

“Kind of.”

“Are we taking the job?”

“What is it? He didn’t give me details.”

Atty shrugged. “I was just told to dress fancy,” he said, stopping the video and pulling up the address. It was for a high-end restaurant, topside. The kind of place that the rich elite would brag about eating their casual midday meals. This particular one had been gaining fame lately for being highly inaccessible, even to many of Morrian’s upper-class residents.

Dion made a face. “I don’t know if we have anything nice enough to enter a place like that,” he admitted. Their clothes were just as worn out as Dion felt. They had to make everything last these days, including the threadbare clothing he now realised was spotted with his own blood. He pulled at his collar and caught a whiff of yesterday’s sweat. There’s no chance. The grimace that followed ached his bruised face. 

“We can ask Pippa?” Atty suggested with another shrug.

Pippa was sweet enough to lend them her bathroom while their water was cut off, provided she didn’t have company. She had kept all her old men's clothes from before her change, just in case; of what, she never said. She had great fashion sense, but Dion doubted it would be enough to get them through the door. 

Still, Dion nodded quietly and touched his cheek. It was still swollen. He checked his reflection in the window pane, revealing the deep purple that blotched his face. That was going to be a problem, too. No one was going to let him in when he looked like he’d lost a fight with a Sentinel.

“What happened?” Atticus finally asked, staring at Dion’s face as well. “You looked like you were on the brink of death last night.”

“Speak for yourself.” Dion crossed his arms. He huffed through his nose, trying to play it off as casually as possible. He didn’t want Atticus to know how close a guess that was. “I ran into Ren yesterday…”

Atticus stood up. “What? And he just let you go?” He demanded, circling the edge of the table.

“Of course, he didn’t. That’s why we need this—” He let out a long breath. Mother Earth, save me. “I’m sorry, Atty.” 

“For what?”

“Everything, I guess. I… lost the delivery job last night. We’re back at square one again.”

Atticus stared at him with an incredulous expression. “Good! I don’t want to be stuck in this stupid apartment anymore. Let's go somewhere else.”

Dion wasn’t sure if Atty was putting on an act to make him feel less guilty. Sometimes his brother was as mysterious as a contract broker.

“We can’t afford to move again.”

“Then let me work, too. I can do it, Dion.”

“But you shouldn’t have to.”

“But I want to! I’m so— Forget it. Let’s just go. This job is mine.” Atticus didn’t wait for Dion to respond before he picked a shirt up off the floor and nodded toward the door. 

“We’re going now?” Dion asked, brow furrowed. He glanced at his Cuff. It boldly informed him that it was 04:00 in a font so obnoxious it made his helmet look cursive. The light outside suggested otherwise.

Atty frowned, peering over from the front door. “The heck is that thing?”

“My new DataCuff. It’s vintage.”

“It’s geriatric. What happened to your old one?”

“Stolen. Along with everything else.”

Atty’s jaw dropped. “Everything else? Like everything, everything?”

Dion sucked in a breath, nodding curtly.

“The bike too?”

Dion nodded again. “I wasn’t worth much, anyway. We’ll check out this job, and when it’s over, we can start again.” Not that Dion had a choice. With the thing in his chest, there was no outrunning his poor life choices this time. Atty didn’t need to know that. 

“Well, it’s already 9:00. We need to see Pippa now or we’ll be late. Let’s go.” Atticus excitedly pushed Dion toward the door.