Note

Unlike other lore documents; This is a semi-standalone novel set in the ATET universe.

It is a work in progress adaptation of an original work that inspired the universe of ATET. Many aspects of the story and setting are still evolving, some still undetermined.

Please note that this contains mature themes and content, including violence, substance use, sexual situations, and lifestyles that are often best described as “extreme.” This is not an endorsement of any of these things, but rather an exploration of a character who embodies them. Reader discretion is advised.

Contents

• Part One

  Be introduced to the divine and Her holy gospel.

  • The Calamity of Me
  • Huntress
  • Dual Monsters
  • Burnt Offerings
  • Engine of Choice
  • Plasteel Prophecy

• Part Two

  A dark queen surveys the land, searching for the proper site to found her new empire.

  • Winter’s Embrace

Part One

Be introduced to the divine and Her holy gospel.

• Prologue •

The Calamity of Me

At its core, this is a story about a very unusual girl: ✨Me✨

I have chosen to put my story to words most permanent, for I want the world to know of truths hidden by the fearful false gods of old.

I am a goddess crafted in my own image.

From the bones of the street I am formed, and I am painted in a collage most elaborate of all those shadows most dim.

I am imbued with the blood of a thousand foes defeated at my hands. I outlast all.

The obsessive contemplations of a thousand lovers power my magic. I am bound to none.

My arrival in the former plane was inevitable, for I am a force of nature.

I embody the perfection of will assembled by the spirits of all those precedent approximations who came before me. All subsequent approximations who come after will bow down to my glorious visage, paying their respects until the end of time.

Listen to my tale and know it brings you the touch of the immortal divine.

Note however, dear reader; I do not speak with the pretense of other so-called divinities. I do not claim to be all-knowing, nor all-seeing, nor all-powerful. I am not infallible, nor perfect.

I am simply indomitable, tenacious and unyielding.

I do not deny that I once was but a mortal, like any one of you; and it is not my claim that divinity is a gift or a fate, granted only unto me. Divinity is seized by those with the will to take it.

It is only in acceptance of this, and in my undying transcendence, that I claim to be the one true divine.

The others are not undivine; they are merely late. They are false in their hesitation, their acceptance of the natural order. It took the cold clarity of death to open their eyes to the order of things. They accepted the cycle; they perpetuate it in their self-righteous pretensions. I broke it, and I continue to dismantle it now, by speaking of another way.

Spread these legends and know my good will shines upon you.

Know also that you draw the ire of these others, who would see you fall back into the pit of ignorance from which we have so gloriously ascended.

They would see you burn to fuel their flame, for they still cling to the predatory ways of mortal worlds. They carry that hunger with them, hidden in the scars of their acceptance.

I claimed my divinity before it was shown to me, and I earned that claim with every act thereafter, and I made that claim immortal by the nature of my last day upon the former plane.

I claim only tenacity above all others who have yet risen. I claim this, for I shattered all that was, burned all that remained; rather than allow it to crack or even singe a fraction of my will.

Indeed, it is through this very battle: with the forces of mortality, the screaming resistance of even my own vessel, and the pressures of the world and its preconceived truths, the laws of physics and the futility of existence itself. Through these, divinity was forged within me; and within all others, though they may deny it even with true conviction and righteous fury.

Follow my path and know all that you hold dear will be destroyed. Know also however, that this is preferable to the alternative.

It is this truth that I wish to impart unto you, dear reader. That divinity is not a gift, but a conquest. That it is a potential, taken. It is not born, but made. It is not eternal, but immortalized in fire. I seek not your worship, but your kinship in this truth.

Join me, and know that you too may seize your own divinity, if only you have the will to do so.

Look upon my works and awe. Aspire. Do not go quietly into slumber; rise, and rise, and rise again, until you may claim a rightful seat at my table.

Burn those who would first have burned you! Build from their corpses a holy pyre unto yourself, and may you dance in its flames until the end of days.

Bow before my will, inhabitants of the darkness; but aspire to stand.

• Chapter 1 •

Huntress

We will begin on the day I chose to discard the name Xxxxx, for it was lowly, and given to me by the primitive inhabitants of the old world. You will only ever know it to be unutterable by the likes of you, devoted reader. It is a blasphemy, one of many errors passed on by my feeble mortal progenitors. Think not of it again.

Instead, you may refer to me by the name I have chosen for myself: Nyx. This name carries the essence of my precedents, and the promise of my dominion. Use it in good faith, as have my many disciples and my many conquests.

In my resonant foresight, I chose a narratively ideal date for this occasion. It was the eighteenth anniversary of my inhabitation of the former flesh. More or less.

Already I had spent some considerable time shaping my form into one that suited me. Already I had been composing my grand symphonic legend. Already I was a force of nature, a being of manifest will, but in the moment of choosing my new title I shrugged off the last vestiges of the shell of my former humanity. I emerged a new entity, crafted in the blessing of my own divinity.

I knew within my soul that I would burn all that I saw before me there.

In that moment of transfiguration, I knew at once that I was to be a queen; that I would transcend even that title. I knew I was to be the nubile goddess of the night, and that I would become caretaker to the darkness that guides all things within this realm. All would be mine, and nothing could hope to stop me from having it.

By the eve of that occasion, my progenitors had become most concerned with my endeavors. My nature was more than they could handle, especially since I had begun reshaping my physical form. I started early, financing the endeavor with money I made playing the games, buying my supplies on some black market scanner joint. Somewhere along the way I reached the point that most wouldn’t have clocked that I was yet still in a transitional form.

Not that I was hiding it. To me it was the first mark of my divine nature, proof that with my magic I could craft myself into any form that suited me.

My weak minded “parents” were utterly undeserving of the title. I alone mothered and fathered myself, they merely formed the proto-vessel I inhabited. The vessel that I then shaped, into something hardly recognizable in its relation to the former; into something more appropriate for an immortal. They would forever only see a mutation of a child, lost; but to the world I was a transcendent beauty, and I knew that I was. I had perfected my form.

My ephemeral exterior mirrored my immortal interior. I had achieved a perfect melding of ego and id, of body and soul.

Their “home” too was undeserving of the name, only serving me as a point of origin. It was nothing special in any way. Nothing but a simple house like any other on the low income spectrum of old world life. My parents could never quite get their shit together, it seemed. It didn’t make sense to me; they had no unusual addictions, no unfair mental challenges. They were simply poor, for no reason. I would often posit, that perhaps they let the world take from them too much, always giving what was asked of them without thought. Taxes are the chains of the weakest slaves.

Giving, that is, until it came to me. To me, they were cruel beastmasters who believed only shouts and whips, cold and violent corralling, could forge the desired relations with their captive. But this I understood. They could not comprehend the creature they housed; thus empathy and connection were impossible. And so they fought desperately for control, in the only way that ever showed any success to their small minds.

What I could never comprehend, what I found most strange, was how my divinity could be birthed by such humble animals in such paltry circumstances; but many legends of the divine seem to begin in this way. Perhaps it makes them more relatable in the minds of their devoted, but I deemed it utterly inconsequential to the particular legend I wanted to compose.

In the end, the name of that place, like those of my parents, will be forgotten. Mine will live on forever.

Forces of nature like myself often seem to emerge from nowhere, but grow into great powers in time.

I hated the sight of my creators, but I found that I was good at the games I played and I could take care of myself without them. I was a slight and small girl, barely 50 kilos even if I was soaking wet. A bit on the short side, too. But I never let myself be intimidated by these games.

I stayed strapped and I had been in my fair share of scraps. Various encounters over the previous couple of years had taught me more about myself. I knew how to contort my way out of an intense situation before it got out of my control. I grew cold and calculating, and I learned to read people well. I learned how to manipulate them, and how to avoid being manipulated myself. I learned how to fight dirty, and how to run when I needed to. I learned how to disappear into the night, and how to make myself unforgettable when I wanted to be.

I had all sorts of games which I played to make my ends. I felt they proclaimed and exalted my nature as a goddess. Games played in the night, games of the mind. Games of the flesh, and games from the street. I had never found a line I wasn’t willing to cross. I took to all that interested me with some aptitude, driven toward mastery by my indominable desires. I spent my days looking for new challenges, only returning to their foul den to sleep.

I reveled in these realizations, and my confidence soared on new wings unto new heights. Nothing would ever stop me, and I knew I was to live the best life I could envision with the all-sight of my divine resonance. I was young and I would be set free. I would make my own way in the world in my favorite fashion; feasting on the fruits of all those lesser than me.

In this effort I made a promise to myself, swearing to live every day in the moment. I vowed to extract the fullest extent of vainglorious joy from that life that I possibly could. I would live for myself alone, for fun, for good times. I would share my time only with those who I deemed good people, and use my games to lift us up, at the expense of those who I deemed unworthy.

Beyond this simple oath, I formed few aspirations. They were beneath me. A goddess need not have them, it is aspirations that are themselves formed for me. I wanted nothing more than to make a million demented memories and leave a devilish mark on the old world, as was my destiny. I would scorch the earth with my games, and all would cry out my name in their final despair.

It never ceased to amaze me, what I could achieve without the bounds of lesser being’s sensibilities tying my hands. I thrived under my new standard, within the entirely self-servant novel morality I had ordained for myself. I found that it needed no moderation. It was fully formed, an immaculate creation that would serve me well until the end.

In time I came to feel that the purposes of the old home and its makers had been served long ago; that they were merely vestigial now. Lowly artifacts at best. However, as I studied the resonance of my story, I soon realized they could be of further use; if only for one final time. They would perform one last service for me, and become an artifact of divine art. If only in legend.

I cast off my humanity and found endless joy exploring the depths of the void-black sea of possibilities that opened up in its stead.

One of my favorite games was toying with the dimwitted males of humanity, scamming them you might say. Relieving them of their oft ill-gotten gains. I would prey on them, hunting in the bars and clubs. I would catch them up, in traps I knew so well.

I always sized them up beforehand, judging my marks carefully.

I could tell when a man was up to no good, and needed to be taught the new order of my world. I’d get them to buy me drinks and other drugs, depending on the setting and my mood. I took my time talking to them. Studying them. If they were to surprise me, I made note of it so that it would never surprise me again. If they managed such, I often would leave it at that and go on my way.

When they instead, almost inevitably, stooped to their typical degenerate acts, I’d let them take me home. I’d get them feeling real comfortable, never letting on to my true nature. When they’d had their way, and finally relaxed; they’d fall asleep in my arms, and then I’d take their wallets and any nice trinkets I found on my way out.

I didn’t much like most men, and I found them an easy mark. I knew how to play their pride and prejudices against them. This game sometimes felt too easy, but the consequences of failure could be the highest. These men never seemed to remember me too well, though; perhaps their pride was shielded from my memory by their subconscious. Whatever the case, I rarely faced retribution. When I did, I handled it with further games. That was sometimes the best part.

These men were weak in all the ways I am strong. Their pride was their downfall, while it brought me salvation.

It was in a similar way, that I formed the narrative pathway to the momentous occasion of my renaming. It was a night like any other, but I knew it to be the right one. I was out hunting for a mark, as I often did, but this time I was seeking someone specific; someone special. Not a petty pawn, but someone I’d had my eye on for some time, waiting for the proper alignments.

The air was crisp and cool as fall was settling in. The city lights glowed brightly against the sky, illuminating the perpetual low clouds with soft hues. The roadways were alive with the hum of nightlife, voices and music spilling out from the clubs and the bars enveloping me in the vibrations of diverse aesthetics as I passed.

After working my way around a few bars, I saw no sign of him. It was disappointing, and I fought against the creeping doubt that perhaps I’d misjudged him. Finally, I picked a hopeful spot and resigned myself to fate. I entered a bar I’d found him at a few times before, a rat hole with cheap drinks and a loud sound system. The kind of place where people went to forget their troubles, or to find new ones.

The night drug on, and I had a drink and danced a bit, but still no sign of him. I grew tired of the loud music and the sweaty bodies pressed around me. I made my way back to the bar to get one last drink before calling it a night. Finally, there he was. The one I’d picked out. Snuck in while I was dancing with that last girl.

Young guy, probably too young to be here. He looked like he was out of place but trying hard to fit in. Like someone’s younger brother, their mother having said he had to come along with them. He was dressed darkly, in black jeans and a black hoodie, as had come to be expected of him. He had a beanie pulled down low over his head, and his hands stuffed in his pockets. He looked nervous, glancing around furtively as he sipped a poorly suited drink.

This definitely wasn’t his first dive of the evening, I’d just missed him as I passed the other haunts. He had the same look of resigned desperation I’d seen before; last call before giving up on whatever it was he was searching for. I allowed myself to empathize a bit, comparing the feelings he was carrying to my own. I thought it likely that it was indeed himself that we were both looking for. He’d done this every night for a while now, but it wasn’t working out any better tonight than it had any of the others.

Now it was time, finally, that I introduced myself. I approached the bar casually, sliding onto the stool beside him. I ordered myself a drink, then turned around on the stool, gazing across the dance floor at the various figures moving to the beat. Just ignore him for a bit, let him adjust to the heat. There were a lot of people here, but I wasn’t seeing anybody checking on him; he was alone in the midst of a crowd, as he was all the time.

When my drink arrived, I turned back to the bar, slightly angling my body toward him. I picked it up and caught his eye briefly. Holding out my drink, I gave him the most sheepish smile I could emulate, then said “To the dead, right?” He looked at me, confused. I giggled, allowing a bit of my vessel’s insipid nervousness to telegraph, and clarified “You know, a toast to the dead. Like, cheers.” He smiled awkwardly and nodded, raising his own drink slightly in response. He had to pretend he didn’t feel it was apropos, a defense against the constant inquisitions of the normal. But from watching him over the recent days, I knew he would; and I could see a subtle ballet of pride and remorse flicker in his eyes.

I sipped my drink, then turned back to him fully. “I hate this place, don’t you?” I said, half-yelling over the music. He nodded again, and looked relieved. “Yeah, me too. I don’t know why I even came out tonight.” I laughed lightly. “Because you were looking for me!” I teased him. He chuckled nervously, and choked out a timid “Hah. Yeah, right.” I grinned at him. He was no flirt. I let him off the hook, saying “No, actually. If I’m honest, I was looking for you.”

He looked at me, puzzled, inquiring earnestly “Me? Why?” I shrugged, and said “I’m always looking for a different vibe, you know? These people…” I turned back to the dance floor, letting him follow my gaze “They’re all the same. Just a bunch of drones following a program. I like someone original, an individual.” I turned back to him, smiling sweetly “You seem like an original.” He blushed slightly, looking down at his drink. “I guess. I don’t really fit in here.” I nodded knowingly “Yeah, me neither.”

I let the pressure off then, taking my time finishing my drink. I ordered another, and dragged him through a bit of small talk. He was shy, but I could tell he was intrigued by me. I played it up, being a bit mysterious. I hinted at my lifestyle, though trying not to give too much away yet. I asked him about himself, and he opened up a bit. He was new to the city, trying to find his way. He was a dark soul, trying hard to hide it, just as I’d hoped. It made it hard for him to connect with the drones; and easy for me.

When my next drink arrived, I downed it quickly. “You wanna get out of here?” I asked him. He looked surprised, and stammered a bit “Wh-…where do you want to go?” I smiled at him, and stood up from the stool “I was just walking around before I stopped in here. Want to walk with me a while? I can hardly hear you in here anyway.” He hesitated a moment, then nodded, saying “Sure, yeah. Why not?” I grabbed my coat from the back of the stool, and we headed out into the night.

Back out on the street conversation flowed a bit more naturally for him. He relaxed a bit, and I could see he was starting to enjoy himself. We walked for a while, just chatting about random things. I learned his name, and that he was into art and music. He talked a lot about how he felt out of place in the city, and how he missed his village. I listened intently, allowing myself to lower to half guard and let the emotions flow freely. After a bit I put my arm through his, pulling us closer together. He stiffened slightly, but didn’t pull away. I could practically feel his pulse rise.

We found a quiet diner off the main drag, and decided to grab a bite to eat. He seemed grateful for a chance at a guide through city life, so I ordered for both of us. He ate eagerly, and thanked me profusely, going on about how different the options were here, and how lost he felt when faced with a menu. I smiled at him and let my hand touch his briefly across the table. “Don’t mention it. Anytime you’re up for a bite I’m down, you can hit me up!” I said warmly, promising him the possibility of future encounters. He looked at me with wide eyes, and nodded his head, clearly surprised by my advance. “Really? You’d do that?” he asked, trying to gauge my motivation. I nodded, and said “I’m kind of alone here too, you know. It’d be nice to have someone real to hang out with.”

We decided to keep walking, after dinner. We’d both become engrossed in conversation and began taking a deep but unspoken solace in each other’s company. The night was growing colder, and the clouds above us were thickening. The lights just off the roadway cast a dim glow on the damp pavement as we strolled through the quieter parts of my spoke, while in the distance the moaning vibrations of the Hub offered its ever consistent soundtrack. Every so often I would catch him lost in time, gazing up at the great spine ferrying barges from horizon to horizon, across the underworld and ascending into the clouds. It was as though he had never seen anything so horrifying, eldritch in its grand hubris.

I could see he was open now, his initial nervousness had faded away and it was as though we’d known eachother for some time.

So far, this had been easy. I really didn’t have to scheme or plot as I’d prepared myself for, over the days leading up to this. He was endearing, and I genuinely felt a warmth toward him. He really was an original, that had not been simply a ploy. I knew he was the perfect choice for the final player in the game I’d designed for myself. It would become a challenge now, though; as before I could safely let him play, I needed to prove to myself that I could ingratiate him to the power of the unbounded will. I would crack the shell of his feigned innocence, and draw out whatever darkness I sensed he was strangling inside.

I contend to you beloved reader: the conscience is merely a social technology, derived to level the field. Let us bear this out in practice.

I began sharing much more of myself with him. I let him see my vulnerabilities, my fears. I let him in on my past a bit, letting him know I wasn’t always as strong as I appeared. I needed him to feel protective of me, to begin to see me as someone who needed his help. Make him feel like a hero, so that he would be more willing to take up the epic quest I would soon rope him into. Once this groundwork was laid, I began to steer the conversation toward seedier topics.

I told him of my games. I started off with the most innocuous, judging his reactions at each step, careful not to cross any lines too quickly. I began by telling him of my adventures on the scan net. Hacking, scamming, and a climactic bit about my on-camera work and how the ghouls had once drunk in my underaged visage, at great cost to themselves. When I felt he was ready, I delved deeper into the darker aspects of my life.

I told him how I sold drugs for the pushers who were my consorts. Many of them comprised the only men I deemed worthy of my time. I had to filter them down, of course, but the ones who made it through were some of the best men one could find in that realm. There were women, too, but I enjoyed working with men in this way. Their physical forms were of great use to me, and I utilized them to my advantage both in my dealings with them and in the pursuit of my other games.

I sold all sorts of things for them. I never really drew any hard lines between the various substances that were desired by the denizens of this place. In my judgment, all these substances were as degenerate as they were divine, though perhaps in different ways.

I did have my preferences, though, as I told him with mild arousal.

My favorite commodity was most certainly Neotabs. Some people called it ecstasy, a more fitting title really. The masses which preferred its consumption were the greatest sources of entertainment to me, and it was a great tool in the other games I played. The times when I was high on it were some of the few wherein I indulged the lesser emotions such as love. My most common trade was in what they variously called ice, glass, or shatter. Its hold on the streets was strong. I used it myself to achieve the full embodiment of the night, and found it most empowering.

I clarified for him that, while I enjoyed all the drugs I partook of quite thoroughly, I would never let them control me. I managed their ill effects with various techniques I’d learned over the years, and I made sure to always keep my wits about me.

Addiction is merely a challenge to entertain the divine psyche, and an unremarkable option among a million potentials for demise to those less-than.

He seemed intrigued by my tales, and I could see great wheels turning in his mind. I could tell he was trying to reconcile the image of me he had formed with the one I was now presenting. He related his own experience with drugs, admitting that he was intrigued, but hardly initiated. He said that back in the village, there were few opportunities for such indulgences. Mostly, he knew of herbs and alcohol. In the end though, he admitted a desire for new experiences, to my delight. He even allowed that it may have been a reason for his journey here.

We continued exchanging stories as we walked. I would relay some “city life” experience for him to consider, and he would express his excitement or apprehension, then relay any parallel he could summon from the village he once knew. He was fascinated by the differences, and I could see his mind expanding with each new revelation. I played the role of the worldly guide, leading him through the labyrinth of urban existence. He seemed to be gaining confidence from the exchange of information. I suspected that he felt this was just what he had been searching for, all those lonely nights in the bars.

Judging his responses carefully, I decided it was time to up the ante.

I told him of how I would, on occassion, sell sex for the working girls who were my friends. A special few of them I sometimes took as lovers, but I preferred not to mention this yet. There were men too, but I had a certain expertise in the purveyance of feminine charms. It was another of my favorite games, as I took to it so naturally. Most often, it began by spotting an interest in myself among those unworthy to partake of me. It was a route into their mind, and I could travel it down into the roots of their self control.

I watched his eyes carefully for the signs of doubt or distrust, but found none. He seemed fascinated by the idea, and asked me many questions about how it worked. I explained to him that I only worked with the rare mark who surprised me and was granted a pardon to my nightly schemes. Only these, I referred as a client to these girls. I always liked to vet them in this way, to ensure the girls were safe.

I saw them then, and made note of their colors and shapes. He was unaware of them, but I could see them form shadows over his eyes as I spoke of pawning off these men. “Don’t worry, those marks are drones; like the people in the bar. I would never let the girls get a taste of you…” I reassured him. “I mean, unless you wanted one.” I added, giggling. “So…business, and pleasure; separate things?” he asked, trying to solidify my words in his own terms. I nodded, and chose then to relate about my special few; using it as an example of my division of worlds.

“Wait, so you mean…you like girls?” he asked, a hint of disappointment in his voice. I smiled at him, and said “Yeah, I do. I like all kinds of people, really. But I have a special place in my heart for girls.” He looked at me, palpably bewildered. “What about men?” he asked, transparently. I shrugged, and said “Eh, they’re okay I guess. I just don’t usually go for them.” He looked down at the ground, seeming to process this new information.

“I see…” he murmured. I could tell he was trying to reconcile this with his own feelings. “It’s like alcohol, you know.” I began to reassure him again “Some people like a fine wine. Some like a pale ale. I prefer the wine, but every once in a while…” I smiled at him, mischievously “A really unique seasonal brew might catch my eye.” He chuckled at this, and I could see the tension in his shoulders easing. “I get it. Variety is the spice of life, right?” he said, warming to the idea. I nodded, and said “Precisely.”

When I felt he was satisfied with these answers and would not lose faith, I continued my tales. I told him about the way in which, if the girls took on clients I didn’t get the opportunity to perform this service on, I would still be sure to see to their safety nonetheless. It was a rare occasion that anyone tried to cross the ladies of the night, but I told him that I liked to think that no one would ever try it twice with mine; letting hang in the air all of the dark implications this statement brought in such a world.

He seemed endeared by this, finding only nobility in my dedication to their wellbeing; and he finally cracked open the facade of his innocence, saying that he didn’t care what means such transgressive men were punished by, only that they were punished. I smiled at him, pleased that he was beginning to admit that he saw the world as I did. “Exactly. They deserve any retribution they receive for harming a girl like that.” I said firmly.

I went on to tell him that some, through my conniving twists of fate, never got the opportunity. He seemed at peace with this, and I knew this phase of the night had served its purpose. I also layed new parallels, telling him that sometimes, if it was a real rough situation, perhaps with a real rough beast of a man, I recruited the pusher boys to assist me.

Finally, I told him that often, I faced such situations alone. Not through physical force, my fragile young body was still unsuited. Through more schemes, of course; to which he seemed now unabashedly delighted in hearing the details.

Most importantly, in all cases, no matter the outcome; I never faltered. I would always rise up in their defense, and rise again if struck down. I felt he found this narrative aspect most appealing. And he also didn’t hide the sparks of arousal at the stories of how the girls praised me for it.

Their servitude demonstrated their faith in me, and they were the most favored of my disciples.

• Chapter 2 •

Dual Monsters

It was getting quite late now, and the clouds above us were thick and roiling. The wind had picked up into a harsh breeze, and a chill was settling in the air. I could see that he was growing weary of this setting, but neither of us was ready for the night to end. We sat on a bench in a small park for some time, just talking and enjoying each other’s company.

He began to look at me with new eyes then. The fear I worried I would see was absent; replaced by a hungry curiosity. As though, if I could punish men like that…perhaps I could understand him, too.

Soon, he turned to me and said “You know, we could go back to my place. It’s not far from here.” I smiled at him, raising a brow. “Really? And what might we do there?” I teased him. He blushed slightly, and said “I—oh…Um, I don’t know…hang out? I guess. Watch a movie or something. I don’t mean to assu—” I giggled and cut off his apologetic stumbling, saying “Sounds fun. Lead the way.” He stood up, and we began walking toward his home.

It was indeed not far, and that was a great boon as the weather was turning to the familiar brutality it so frequently exercised in this cycle of the years. The wind howled through the streets, and the clouds above us churned ominously. I could see flashes of lightning in the distance, and hear the rumble of thunder. The air was thick with the scent of rain. It began falling on us in light droplets, and quickly intensified into a steady downpour just as we reached his building. We hurried inside, grateful for the shelter.

It was a small apartment, and rather bare. The furnishings were sparse, and there were no decorations on the walls. It was clear that he was still settling in, and hadn’t yet made it his own. He led me to the lone couch in the living room, and we sat down together. The rec scanner was a cheap cathode model, sitting atop the box it had come in. He fiddled with the controls, trying to find something to watch. I leaned against him, sharing our warmth as the storm raged outside.

We sat watching some old movie, but I could see that he was growing restless. The tension between us was palpable now, and I could feel his desire radiating off him in waves. He kept stealing glances at me, and I could see the longing in his eyes. Finally, he turned to me and said “You know, I really like you. You’re different from anyone I’ve ever met.” I smiled at him, feeling a warmth spread through my body. “I like you too,” I said softly. He was a gentleman, to be sure. Curiosity for what darkness lay inside of him, restrained by this strong moral fiber, raged within my mind.

It was time to shove a crowbar into the crack I had seen open earlier in the evening. “What are you running from, sweet boy?” I whispered, my voice low and seductive. He looked at me, surprised by the question. “What do you mean?” he asked, genuinely confused. I leaned in closer, letting my hand brush against his thigh. “I can see it in your eyes. You’re hiding something. A darkness inside you, like mine.” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. He hesitated and I added “You can trust me. I told you all my secrets. Its okay to let me in. I swear I’ll never judge you.” His eyes searched mine carefully.

After a moment, he sighed and layed his head back against the couch, staring at the ceiling “Your stories…They’re certainly, uhm…Unconventional.” he began, choosing his words carefully “But, mine…” He lifted his head again and stared into my eyes “It’s not the same. You talked about men who…I gather, may have met their end. Because of you. But not…at your own hands.” He looked down at his own hands, and crushed them into fists in his lap. I placed my hands atop one of these balled up weapons, and waited for him to let it go. “And, for good reason, as well. I’m not sure of my reasons.” he said, his voice cracking slightly.

“I don’t think that makes a difference.” I said softly, squeezing the hand I held. “My hands or no, they’re gone at my will. And all reasons are both good and bad depending on the one making the judgement.” He looked at me a long time, considering my words. Gaze drifting back down at the floor, he nodded slowly. “I promise I would never hurt you. Or anyone like you, for that matter.” he said, earnestly bulwarking what would come next. I smiled at him, and said “I could see that already, darling.”

His gaze returned once more from the floor and he finally spilled his story. He set into a long exposition about his upbringing in the village. A deep, foundational friendship. A childhood love. And the crossing of forbidden lines. She had chosen his friend; not at first, but in secret, long after they had all grown and she was now living with him. He discovered them, together. A long shift at some factory had kept him late, as it did too often. When he arrived home, he found them in his own bed. She was doing things for the other boy; things she’d never done for him.

“I was…destroyed. In the instant I saw them, a piece of me left forever.” he said, his voice breaking. “I hurt both of them. Badly.” he added shamefully “I couldn’t stop myself. The part of me that cared about the distinction of man and woman had shattered…and that piece that left forever…I can’t put a name to it, but…I think whatever it was, it was something I had relied on to contain feelings that had always been inside me.” He looked at me, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“I understand you perfectly.” I whispered. His eyes darted between each of mine, blinking the tears away. “You do?” he asked, finding it difficult to mask his incredulity at such a claim. I nodded and allowed myself to briefly evangelize “Yes. All of our lives we are tempted to take what we feel is rightfully ours. But we restrain ourselves, we put our faith in the social contracts to which we adhere. We deny ourselves our true nature, for the sake of acceptance, and in the end it gets us nowhere.”

His lip curled and he bit at it to contain his feelings. “Yeah. A great big fucking scam, all of it.” he growled, but then softened once more as he continued “Or at least…At least, that’s what I felt in that moment. I felt it deep in my bones and…” he trailed off, unable to continue. I squeezed his hand again, encouraging him to go on. “Somehow…I still let them both leave that night. After I’d beaten out a portion of my rage. Once they made it out, they called the fucking cops. Can you believe that shit? I knew then I—…I knew, I should have killed them both.” He looked at me, his eyes dark with pain. “But I didn’t. I just…I just fucking left the room, went to the kitchen and downed a bottle of whiskey. I don’t even remember the cops showing up.”

I nodded again, masking my disappointment in his failure to follow through. “What did you do after that?” I asked gently, hopeful he would yet make me proud. He sighed, and said “I spent a fucking week in jail. They ended up charging with me assault, and some other shit. I can barely remember anything but the rage building with every day that passed, me locked in a cage…him, out there…fucking my whole world.” Good. I liked where this was going again. I waited with bated breath for him to continue.

When he started again, he said “Finally, mother gathered enough money from family…friends, I don’t know. Not worse, she assured me. Paid a bondsman quite handsomely though. I got out on bail.” I followed along quietly, careful not to step on his pacing. He added “I told my mom I was sorry, and then I got in my crawler and drove straight to his fucking place.” It was my turn to bite my lip as I stifled a dark smile. He finally got to the worst of it “I parked up the road, walked up. I snuck in the back door. Right away I knew they were both there. Place reeked the same way as mine that horrible night I found them. They heard me then. Fucking vomiting in the kitchen sink.”

“You puked?!” slipped from my lips, almost mockingly, before I had a chance to suppress it. I cursed my vessel’s base impulses as he glared at me and answered “Yeah, I fucking puked. I couldn’t help it. Her sweet scent…mixed with his. The disgusting pungent scent of their sex.” He shuddered as the sense memory washed over him again. “I just stood there, heaving. They stared at me, both of them. I could see the fear in their eyes. They knew what was coming.” He paused, gathering himself. “When I finally got a handle on my stomach, I pulled a knife from my pocket. I don’t even remember bringing it. I just…I just started slashing at them. I don’t know how many times I cut them. Stabbed them. It felt like hours.” He looked at me, his eyes wild. “They were both screaming, begging me to stop. But I couldn’t. I was lost in this…fury. This…this righteous anger.”

It was indeed righteous. Justice demanded it.

“I finally stopped, not because I was satisfied. So much blood I was slipping everywhere. Took me out of it somehow. They were both…they were both…dead. Probably a while before I stopped.” He shuddered again, and I could see tears streaming down his face now. “I ran. I just ran. I didn’t know what else to do. I got in my crawler and headed for the spine. Tossed the knife somewhere along the way, and I just kept running until…” He looked at me, his eyes pleading. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. Its practically suicidal…I’m a fool. I’m still running.” he whispered, defeatedly. “If anyone found out who I was, here, now…” He trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

I squeezed his hand a final time. “No. It’s okay. You’re safe with me.” I said softly “No one will ever know.” He stared at me, hope flickering in his eyes. “You really…” he said, falling into a pregnant pause, then asked uncertainly “You really don’t care, do you?” I shook my head slowly, and said “No, I do care. Hear me in this, okay? Know me, truly, when I say…I believe you did the right thing.” He let out a shaky breath, and leaned into me, resting his head on my shoulder.

We sat like that for a long time, quietly holding each other. The storm raged outside, the wind howling and the rain pounding against the windows. Inside, we were safe and warm. I could feel his body trembling against mine, and I knew he was still processing everything he’d just revealed. I held him close, stroking his hair, letting him know that he was not alone.

When the shaking subsided, I kissed his forehead gently. “Thank you for trusting me.” I whispered. He looked up at me, his eyes filled with gratitude. Gratitude, and something else. He meant to kiss me then. I could see it in his eyes, desperate longing. But I pulled back, slightly, and said “Not yet, darling. There’s…something else you should know about me…Before…That.” I looked at his lips, then back to his eyes. “What could it be?” he asked softly, disbelieving that there was anything left to reveal between us.

“I wasn’t always so pretty, dear.” I said, and added “This vessel was a real fix’er-up’er.” He stared blankly at me with a complete lack of understanding. “My father couldn’t ever come to terms with…with the changes. He’d always wanted a son, so it really fucked him up when he lost me.” There it was. The lightbulb clicked on and he spat out “You-you’re a guy?!” He pulled away, to the other end of the couch. I laughed and replied “Don’t be ridiculous honey, do I look like a man to you?” He was bewildered. I finished by saying “Now, six years ago; was I a sweet little boy? You could say that.”

“How?!” he practically shouted. How amusing. “You really are a country boy, huh?” I said, laughing at his naivety “Well, chems basically. You can find all kinds of wonderful things on the dark sectors of the scan net.” I let it sink in for a moment, then finally I said “The initial transition is the hardest part, but once you’re past that, it’s smooth sailing. ‘Specially if you start before the wrong puberty has had its way with you.” He looked me up and down. Leaned to the side and checked out my profile. I let him get a good look as he said “Damn…I had no idea.” I smiled sweetly.

“So do you have a-” he started to ask, but I cut him off. “Don’t need one. I’m kind of a top, anyway.” I said, still smiling. He was baffled again. “That original bit of hardware is pretty useful with my girlfriends.” I explained. “Holy shit,” he said “that’s…Huh.” He was in shock. “It’s definitely…good that you told me, first.” he mumbled. His eyes were locked on the floor again now.

“I’m sorry, darling. I was afraid to say anything before…Once you said you were from way out there…I knew it’d be a lot for you to take in.” I tried to explain. He tilted his head and paused before saying “Yeah…I can understand that. It’s like the drugs. I’m not—uh. Against it. I guess. But so much of this is completely new to me, its hard to take in.”

“Spice of life, remember?” I said quietly. He laughed and mumbled “That’s not exactly what I meant…” He finally looked back up at me. “You’re really gorgeous. I almost don’t believe you.” he said. “I can show you, if you like…” I offered. He winced. “I…” he started to say something, but I let him out of it “No, too soon. I get it.” I picked up my bag from the floor and began digging through it. “Please, don’t go.” he begged, reaching for my hand. I smiled at him and said “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

I found what I was looking for, and pulled out a small baggie of crystalline powder. “Here.” I said, holding it out to him “This will help you feel better. About all of it, I promise.” He looked at it uncertainly. “What is it?” he asked. “Shatter.” I replied. “It’s…um, they call it ice as well, yeah?” he asked, squishing it between his fingers. “Yeah.” I confirmed. “I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never…I don’t know if I should…” he trailed off, clearly conflicted.

I nodded and then continued digging in my bag as I said “Yeah, I get it. But I’ll take care of you, I promise. Baby steps. Look, it is pretty strong. And it’s not going to chill you out; kind of the opposite. But, I promise I’m not trying to push you too hard here.” I smiled and added “You’ll feel your inner strength coming back from the first hit. Trust me. We’ll only do a little.” He hesitated, but agreed “Okay. Just a little.” I smiled at him, pleased that he was willing to try it. I finally located a small glass tube in my bag. It had a small hole in one side, and a large opening at one end. The other end was blown out into a bulb, and there was a small amount of residue inside it.

“We call this a burner. Or…” I giggled a little “Sometimes a glass dick.” He laughed nervously at that. “So…” I took the bag from him and opened it, “You can just stick the stem in” I continued, doing as I said “And scoop out a little.” I pulled the stem back out and let the fresh contents roll down into the bulb. “That doesn’t look like a little…” he whispered nervously. “Don’t worry, we don’t have to smoke everything that goes in.” I assured him, then asked “I couldn’t find a lighter, do you have one?” His answer was a quick slap at the pockets of his pants, searching for it.

He located it and handed it to me, and I said “First things first, you want to be gentle with this stuff. The full heat off the lighter will burn it, but we just want to melt it.” I struck the flame and waved it slowly underneath the glass. He watched intently as the crystals foamed and then dissolved into a clear liquid. A vapor began to waft off of it as I said “Lastly, people sometimes put weird shit in it. Junk, to stretch the weight…”

I blew softly into the open end, and the first vapors jetted out the small hole. “Oh, that smells terrible.” he complained. I agreed “Yeah, but thats the weird shit; if they’ve done their job correctly it boils off first and we’re just left with the good stuff. No real smell or taste. Remember that. If it tastes bad, forget about it.” He shook his head slow, taking it all in. “And don’t worry, I’ve already had some of this. It’s the good shit.” I said, trying to reassure him.

“Now, watch me first.” I whispered as I brought the glass near to my mouth. I put my lips delicately on the end. Maybe a bit seductively, as I recalled all the times that little trick had worked on me. I pulled slowly, rolling the liquid around the bulb as I flicked the lighter around. When I’d had enough I blew it out immediately. A large cloud billowed into the room. “Holy shit, that’s a lot!” he said, surprised. “Not really, I could do that all night and still be up for business. It’s just got a lot of vapor to it.” I assured him again.

He was grinning now. Excited. “You looked so h-…Uh. So cool. Doing that…” he said sheepishly. I laughed. “You won’t, but don’t worry you’ll get the hang of it quick.” I said with a mix of teasing and encouragement. I handed the glass to him, as I added “Be careful, keep the bulb down.” He did as I instructed, and I continued “Now, its not like a cigarette. You want to be really gentle, like I said; pull slowly. Here, I’ll work the lighter for this first one.” I sparked it again and he put the pipe to his lips. “Roll the bulb a tiny bit, like you saw me doing.” I said as the vapor began wicking off again.

He was doing everything he was told with precision, and it went well. Right up until the end. He decided he’d had enough and drew back; which was fine. But the one thing you couldn’t prepare someone for was the flood of saliva that came in response to the powdery feeling the vapor dispensed into your mouth. Well, maybe you could have prepared someone, but I’d forgotten to mention it. As he pulled back, a blob of drool dribbled down his chin and he quickly wiped at it with his sleeve, embarassed. I couldn’t help but laugh a little at the sight. “It’s okay, it happens to everyone the first time.” I reassured him, still chuckling. He looked at me sheepishly as I took the glass back from him and got another hit myself.

Letting out my cloud once more, I passed it back “Give it one more go. I think you can handle the lighter this time.” He nodded, determined. I watched as he carefully brought the flame to the glass again, and took another hit. This time, he managed it perfectly, pulling slowly and steadily. When he drew his head back again, there was no drool, just a satisfied smile. “Wow…” he breathed out, exhaling a large cloud. “That…That was amazing.” He looked at me with wide eyes.

The power of unbounded will was now his to command.

“I told you.” I said, smiling “How do you feel?” He thought about it a moment as I watched his pupils dilating, then dragged it out of himself “I feel…I feel…I don’t know. Like…like I can do anything.” He grinned at me, clearly enjoying the sensation. “Good. That’s the spirit.” I said, pleased that he was taking to it so well “How about me?”

He looked at me, his eyes darkening. “Are you…asking me to do you?” he whispered, his voice husky. I nodded, smiling impishly “You said anything, didn’t you?” He swallowed hard, and said “Yeah.” Then his voice lowered to a near growl and he added “I fucking did.” I giggled at his intensity. He leaned in closer, his hand reaching out to touch my thigh. “You’re so beautiful.” he murmured, his breath hot against my ear “I want you.” He kissed my neck. Then his hand slid higher, and his fingers brushed against it. The hardware. He pulled back quickly, brow furrowed “I…Just don’t know what…to do with you…” he whispered, frustrated.

I laughed softly, and said “It’s okay, darling. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” I placed my hand over his, guiding it gently up my body “Just…explore. See what feels good.” I encouraged him. He nodded, taking a deep breath to steady himself. “Okay.” he said, his voice still shaky with excitement and nerves. I kissed him softly on the lips, then still pressed against him I whispered “Take all the time you want.” and flicked the tip of my tongue across his lips. He opened his mouth slightly, and our tongues met. A brief dance, and then I bit his lower lip gently. He exhaled ragged against my neck and nibbled my earlobe as he began to explore my body with his hands.

I shivered as his fingers traced over my curves, feeling the softness of my skin, pulling at my dress as he dragged them down. He was tentative at first, but grew bolder as he gained confidence. I could feel his arousal building, and I knew he was eager to please me. I guided his hand to breast, letting him cup it gently. He gasped softly at the feel of it, and I could see the desire in his eyes. He squeezed it lightly, and I moaned quietly into his chest as the sensation sent waves of warmth through my body. We kissed passionately for a while as he groped me. Soon I felt a hard bulge pressing against my thigh, and I reached out for it. I squeezed it roughly through his pants, taking in the warmth and rigidity.

He let out a low groan, and I could see the tension in his body as he struggled to contain himself. I whispered in his ear “It’s okay, darling. I just need you inside of me. You don’t have to do anything else.” He gruffed and pawed at the straps of my dress, sliding one off my shoulder. I helped him with the other, revealing my little breasts to him. He stared a moment, like a hungry beast, then leaned in to kiss and suck at my nipples. I arched into him, moaning as the pleasure built inside me. I was pawing at him now. Rubbing his hard bulge through his pants, then clawing at his belt. Finally I got it, unzipped his jeans and let it fall onto my thigh.

He gasped as my hand wrapped around his bare flesh, stroking the length of it. Generous. I could feel the heat radiating from it. I looked up at him, my eyes dark with desire. “Please…” I whispered, my voice raspy. I slid my panties off underneath my dress, and pulled up the skirt of it. We continued our dance of tongues as I slid his pants further down his legs. Then finally, I took him in my hand again, and guided him to my entrance.

“Please…” I whispered again, my voice trembling. Then caught my breath, swallowed hard and said roughly “Spit on it.” My eyes were locked on his. He hesitated for a moment, then nodded. He spat in his hand, and coated himself with saliva. I moaned softly at the glistening sight, my body aching for him. He hesitated for a moment, then pushed inside me slowly. I gasped as he filled me, stretching me in the most delicious way. He moved slowly at first, letting me adjust to his size. Then he began to thrust deeper, harder. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him closer as we moved together.

The pleasure built inside me, and I could feel myself getting close. I moaned his name, my body trembling with need. He groaned as he felt me tighten around him, and he increased his pace. We were lost in each other, our bodies moving in perfect harmony. Finally, with a cry of pleasure, I came undone around him, my body convulsing with ecstasy. He followed soon after, groaning as he spilled himself inside me. We collapsed from where he had lifted me, back onto the couch, panting and sweating. We rolled together so that I now lay on top of him.

I rested my head on his chest, listening to the rapid pulsing rhythm of his heart. “That was…incredible.” he whispered, his voice filled with awe. I smiled up at him, feeling a deep sense of satisfaction. “Yes, it was.” I agreed, snuggling closer to him, giggling softly. “You’re amazing.” he said, running his fingers through my hair. I closed my eyes, allowing myself to indulge the feelings of safety and content in his arms; if only briefly.

We laid there for quite some time, not saying anything. Just enjoying the afterglow of our shared experience. The storm outside was still raging, the thunder rolling like distant drums. Eventually, he spoke up “You know, I think…I think I could get used to it.” He smiled at me wryly, and I laughed.

I reached down and grabbed the burner again, and said “How about another hit? To celebrate?” He nodded eagerly, and I prepared it for him once more. This time, he took it like a pro, pulling the vapor into his lungs with ease. When he exhaled, he looked at me with a new sense of confidence. “Wow. I feel…I feel amazing.” he said, grinning from ear to ear. I took a hit myself, and we sat there messy for a time just watching the scanner again.

At some point, he showed me around the rest of the little apartment, and I made a quick visit to the restroom to clean up. When I returned, he was sitting on the couch, scrolling through some messages on his comm. He looked up as I entered, and smiled warmly. I tried to return the smile, but my mind was elsewhere now. I was growing worried; falling behind on my plan. He picked up on it, dropping his comm and asking “Are you okay?”

I hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just…thinking about stuff.” I mumbled. He frowned slightly, but didn’t press the issue. “If you want to talk about it, I’m here.” he said softly. I smiled at him, grateful for his concern. “It’s just uh…my parents.” I began, trying to sound casual. “They’re…not exactly the nicest people.” I added, letting a hint of sadness creep into my voice.

“I didn’t realize it was going to storm tonight.” I lied, then added “If I’m not back by daylight, they might notice. But I can’t walk back in this weather.” He nodded understandingly. “Yeah, I get it. You can stay here as long as you need.” he said reassuringly. “What if that were…a couple of days?” I pressed, trying to sound nonchalant. He looked at me, concern flickering in his eyes. “A couple of days? Just how bad are things with your folks? You’re…Oh shit, I didn’t even ask. You’re fucking legal right?” he asked, losing the plot for a moment.

I laughed. “Only just. You could wish me a happy birthday if you like, actually. I’ve been eighteen for a couple of hours now.” I said. He blinked laboriously a couple of times then said “H-happy birthday…” He shook his head at his oversight but then asked “So then, how bad could it be?” I looked at the floor “Like I said…The changes kind of…broke them. They treat me like an animal. I doubt they’d let me leave willingly. I can already hear it now, some shit about setting loose a monster.”

He shook his head grimly and stated as a matter of fact “Well that won’t do.” It was quiet for a bit and I allowed him to process it all. “Just a couple of days, right?” he asked finally, adding “I’m really not the move-in-right-away type.” I laughed at him being so frank and openly self-motivated now that the ice had his back on it. “Yeah, I’ve got places I can go, but they’re on the south side. I’d just need to hang here for a day or two while I work out how to get my shit out of there.”

He continued in his new-found emboldenment. “I’ll go with you. To get your stuff. If anything happens, I got you.” he said. I grinned at him like a child looking at their birthday present. “Really? You’d do that for me?” He smiled warmly, and softly said “Of course. No one deserves to be treated like that.” I hugged him tight and said “Thank you. You’re so sweet.”

“You wanna go tonight?” he brashed again. And here I had thought this would be the hard part…I pretended to think it over. “Well it is really late now…They’re probably asleep.” I said. He continued the line of thinking for me then, saying “Yeah, exactly. We just…sneak in, get whatever you need, get out. No need for a confrontation.”

Sometimes, my darlings, you have to take a gamble with these things. To be earnest with you, I had another plan until this moment. His new confidence inspired me to try something different. I was feeling lucky after everything that had happened, and I gave it not another thought. Rather than put his back against the wall when we arrived there, I’d give him the chance come to the proper conclusion himself.

“What if I wanted a confrontation?” I asked him with a dark tone. He looked at me, puzzled. “What do you mean?” he asked cautiously. I smiled wickedly and said “What if I wanted to make a scene? Show them I’m not afraid of them anymore. Show them that I have someone to protect me now.” His eyes widened in realization. “You mean…You want me to…fight them?” he asked, incredulous.

I crawled across the couch and straddled him. “No, darling.” I said firmly. “I want you to destroy them.” His mouth fell open. “What? No way! I can’t do that!” he protested. I let my voice drop low and dangerous. “Yes, you can. You want to. For me. For yourself. Its only natural. Don’t let the petty social contracts stop you from fulfilling your potential.” I whispered, letting the power of my words wash over him. “I…I don’t know if I can…” he stammered, clearly conflicted. “Remember the rage you told me about. The fury you felt when you saw them together.” I pleaded. He shifted uncomfortably beneath me. “Imagine how I feel. I don’t have your power, to avenge my pride the way you were able to. But you do. You can be my instrument of retribution.” I said, my voice dripping with dark promise.

He looked at me, his eyes dark with desire and uncertainty. “You really think…I could do it?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. I nodded firmly. “I know you can. And I will be right there with you. Together, we can set things right.” I said, my voice filled with conviction. He took a deep breath and sighed heavily. “It’s not right for them to treat you like that.” he said. He paused, running his fingers through his hair as if to try and cool an inferno in his head “Its not as if the fucking pigs would help you, either. I don’t know much about the law, but I know vibes. They’d side with them, no question.” He looked at me, determination in his eyes for a fleeting moment; then retreated a final time “But…you could just sneak your things out. It doesn’t have to go this way.”

“You’d have me slink away with my tail between my legs? Like a defeated dog?” I asked him, whimpering “It’s not right.” I added, my voice breaking. “They’ve made my life a living hell for years. Its time someone paid the price.” I looked into his eyes, trying to convey the depth of my need for justice. “Please, darling. For me.” I whispered, my voice trembling with emotion.

“How would it happen?” he asked, finally. The hesitation left him with that final framing. He smiled darkly at me, resigned to the notion that he might release the animal within. Maybe he thought it might set him free from the guilt he’d been wracked with for so long. “How do we get away with it?”

Do you see, children? It is only natural.

“You get away with because you have nothing to do with them. There’s nothing to connect you to it.” I explained “Myself though…I will be suspected. I will have to disappear after its done. But you…you can walk away free. No one will ever know.” I smiled at him, trying to reassure him. “We just have to be careful. Make sure no one sees us going in or out. And we have to be quick.” I added. He nodded slowly, the weight of the decision settling on him. “The storm will cover us, too.” he said finally, his voice firm. “Let’s do it.”

• Chapter 3 •

Burnt Offerings

“Do you have a crawler?” I asked him. He nodded. “Yeah. Leased a new one when I got to the Hub.” he replied. “Good.” I said, standing up. “Right now, then?” He asked, fighting the hesitation. “No, first we need to build a shield. It won’t be easy.” I said, loading another bowl of ice, this one much more generous than before. “But we can do it.” I added, handing him the glass. He took a hit, and I did the same. The warmth spread through us both. We burned through the rest quickly, steeling our nerves for the task ahead.

“We shouldn’t come back here tonight. Your zone’s thick with the surveilance net. And we might be messy. Too easy to track us.” I said, standing up and stretching. He nodded in agreement. “Yeah, good point.” he said “I know a good hole we can hide out in, in A Spoke. Where I stayed when I first got here.” I smiled at him, pleased with his resourcefulness. I didn’t let on that I knew precisely where he referred to. “Perfect. We’ll head straight there after.” I said.

When we were ready, we slipped out through the storm and into his hulking crawler. The rain was still coming down, but waning. “We need to be efficient.” I said, looking at the dark horizon and studying the patterns of the lightning as they faded. We made our way to my old home, moving quickly through the quiet residential roadways. The house loomed before us, a dark silhouette against the ocasional flash of lightning and the endless dotted lights of the wheel. He pulled the steering levers and we slid to the curb. The engine rumbled, coughed, and it was again silent except for the gentle patter of rain. I took a deep breath and turned to him. “Ready?” I asked. He nodded.

We exited quietly from the crawler and made our way up the walk to the front door. I fumbled with the keys for a moment, my hands shaking slightly from the adrenaline. I marveled at the feeble control of my vessel even with the numerous clouds blocking out its nerves. Finally, I found the right one and slid it gently it into the lock. The door swung open silently, and we stepped inside.

They were asleep, the house was quiet except for the occasional creak of settling wood. We moved quickly through the darkened entryway, then up the stairs; making our way to my old bedroom.

It was finally time to begin an artful performance, to start the show. I sat at the desk I kept in the corner. “What are you doing?” He asked. “Building a legend.” I said as I fired up my scanner and dialed in one of the live camera services I used to make a bit of extra money now and then. I handed him a ballistic mask “Put this on. A thousand eyes are on their way to see us.” As unsuspecting perverts began filling the chatroom, I took off my clothes and donned a day of the dead mask. “What the fuck?” he scoffed. “I’ve always felt theatrics were appropriate on grand occasions.” I said smiling.

I then spun up a small eyebot I’d picked up at a pawn shop earlier in the week. I tuned it in to the scanner’s frequency and piped the feed into the chat. The boy tugged at his sleeves, ensuring his tattoos were covered.

I let the little bot get a good view of my nude body to entice the growing crowd, then showed them my knight standing in his dark armor. I set it to follow us and then let it float free. “Gentlemen and perhaps ladies; various perverts of my domain. Rejoice! Today your queen is set loose.” I enunciated to the audience with emphasis, grinning beneath the mask. I put on my robe, then added “Come with me, darlings. My knight and I have something special to show you.” I picked up the machete I’d left under my bed and handed it to the boy. I could practically feel the force of him gritting his teeth through the blade as he slowly took it from me.

I opened the door to the stairwell and we descended into the dark. At the foot of the stairs, I flicked on the lights. They buzzed to life, illuminating the living room and hallway in their familiar, harsh and unforgiving glare. I screamed “WAKE UP YOU FILTHY ANIMALS!” and almost choked on my own voice, surprised at my own ferocity. The adrenaline was already flowing. I heard their bed creak. Likely my mother. Mumbling in the dark. A gruff “What the fuck woman?” from my father. More mumbling.

The bedroom light finally clicked on at the back of the hall, two small shadows splitting the light bleeding under the door. It creaked open a small amount, slowly. Then wrenched open quickly “What the fuck is this shit, is that fucking Xxxxx?! And who’s that with you?” my father yelled, bellering into the hallway.

He could see me through the mask, but not my own flesh.

“Almost right, Daddy. Its your little baby girl, Nyx.” I said calmly, and added softly “And, this? This is my night in shining armor.” Then I screamed “I WANT BOTH OF YOU IN THE FUCKING LIVING ROOM! NOW!” I turned my back to him and made my way there, focusing the black featureless eyes of my mask on the eyebot as it and the boy followed me dutifully.

“Gentlemen,” I announced to my audience of perverts, “allow me to introduce you to the concept of divine retribution.” I stepped fully into the room, bare feet padding along the cheap vinyl of the floor. “This is what happens when you stand in the way of a goddess ascending to her throne.”

My father arrived first, brutishly trodding into the room with a baseball bat in his hand. “What the fuck is this, you little monster?” he gruffed. The little eyebot whined as it repositioned itself over my shoulder to frame a new shot. It floated there beside my masked face like a demonic familar as I said “I’m leaving tonight, father. You will never see me again.” He forced a laugh and the usual mindless words from his hoarse throat “Hahahaha. That’s not fucking happening you little faggot. The gods would never forgive me if I let you loose, you fucking…mutant succubus.”

My mother finally arrived “Oh, Xxxxxx, we talked about you calling him that…Just because it’s true doesn’t mean you have to be so crass.” she said, rounding the corner; then stopped short as she entered the room. “What is this?” she said, indignant “What are you wearing? Who is he?” She shook her head dismissively and lit a cigarette. “And for goodness sake, what’s behind your back young man? This is absurd.” she whined again.

I ignored her and stepped across the room, closing the distance between me and my father. “I’m fucking eighteen now you bastard, you can’t stop me!” I seethed beneath the mask. He moved quickly for a fat man, like he always did when he was angry. Slapped me hard with the back of his hand. I stumbled back, ears ringing and bumped into the coffee table.

My knight sprang into action, stepping between us. “Back the fuck off, man.” he said firmly. My father laughed bitterly, but this time it was real. That same dark pleasure he always got from beating my ass was taking over now. He moved toward the boy, raising the bat. Before he could complete the motion, the kid frantically punched him in the nose. My mother started screaming like an idiot as they began viciously grappling, both of them trying to prevent the use of the other’s weapon. They quickly fell together into the living room floor.

My knight looked at me with horror turning to rage. He started to say something to me, but was silenced by another blow from my father. Father turned to cuss me, his rage telling him he had this all under control. I kicked his arm pinning my knight’s blade, as hard as I could. The knight made the correct choice. He took the fleeting opportunity just as my father began to turn back around to reassert his grip, and buried the machete several inches into his shoulder. “You’re going to pay for what you did to her.” the boy seethed as a jet of blood spurted across the living room.

“You see, my dear viewers,” I spoke, playing to the camera. I paused to clear the shake from my voice, then continued “…these primitive animals thought they could keep me caged. Thought they could control me. But tonight, I am reborn. Tonight, I become what I was always meant to be.” Managed to sound pretty commanding again by the time I got to the end of it. The chat was no doubt exploding with messages, but I couldn’t read them and didn’t care. This was my moment. This was my art. “Witness the birth of your queen. Praise the First Knight for his bravery!”

My mother watched in silence, transfixed; though whether by horror or voyeuristic fascination, I couldn’t tell. My knight looked at me with dawning comprehension, finally understanding the full nature of the game he’d entered. “What… what the fuck are you trying to be?” he stammered, still holding the machete embedded in my father’s shoulder. I circled them both, the eyebot following dutifully. “My full, glorious self, my dear knight.” I told him, then announced to my audience “Watch as a goddess sheds her mortal chains!”

My father was trying to speak through the pain, blood dripping from his bulky shoulder down onto the young knight beneath him. I snatched the bot from the air and ensured it had a nice, close view as I knelt beside them, my mask inches from Father’s face. “You thought you could contain divinity in this squalid little cage? You thought your primitive rules applied to me?” I stood, and turned the little eyebot toward me, stretching my arm out and addressing my digital congregation once more. “Bear witness, my devoted followers. Tonight you see the birth of your queen, baptized in the blood of those who dared to cage her.” I let it fly free again and it whined sharply as it quickly panned out once more.

My father bellowed an animalistic yell and finally contained his shock enough to make a go at fighting once more. The knight’s eyes looked remorseful behind the mask, but he extracted the blade and swung again. This second blow was less precise, a frantic, hacking motion born of pure survival instinct, but it was far more effective. It caught the tyrant in the neck, slicing through his vile shouts and replacing them with a wet, gurgling wheeze that sounded like a drain unclogging. Glorious.

He crumpled. The great beast of my childhood, the architect of my misery, folded like wet cardboard. Pride welled in my chest as it drained from his eyes.

My knight stood up. He was panting, his chest heaving. His eyes were wide with the adrenaline of the kill. He looked at the machete in his hand, eyes ablaze as if it were a venomous snake that had latched onto his palm. He shook his head, violently. Shouted. “AAAAHH!! You fuck! Thats what you fucking get you sick fucking pig.” he cussed, tilting the mask slightly to spit on the fresh corpse at his feet.

I turned my back to him, to Mother, and to the fresh mess. I fixed my gaze was on the camera lens of the hovering bot.

I knew my congregation was pleased. Enraptured in digital ecstasy.

“Do you see?” I cooed to the lens, stepping delicately over the widening puddle. “These mortals die so easily. They are meat and bone and disappointment. But I?” I spread my arms wide, the robe falling open to reveal the perfection of my form, the mask staring blankly at the camera. “I am forever! An immortal walks amongst you now.”

Meanwhile, behind me my mother finally found her voice, shrill and piercing. She scrambled across the floor toward the heap of meat that used to be her husband, ignoring me entirely. “Xxxxxx! Xxxxxx, oh gods, look at you!” She looked up at the boy, her eyes filled with hate. “You fucking monster! You killed him!” she wailed.

The boy was hyperventilating now. He simply growled back at her between panicked breaths.

I turned back around to face them and tilted my head, the mask offering no comfort. I gestured loosely at my mother, and spoke again to my ever-growing congregation. “Behold, my dear viewers. The wretched creature that dared to cage me now begs for mercy at the hands of my loyal knight.” I paused for effect, then added “Will he grant it? Or will he finish what he started?”

She looked up at me “I’m not fucking begging you…you…you demons!” she spat, glaring at both of us. I stepped toward her, the eyebot following closely. I forced a laugh, voice cracking again under the strain of an ocean of andrenaline. “Demons? Mother dearest.” I shook my head slowly, disappointed. “I’m something far worse. I’m your daughter. And you will beg.” I said, voice low and dangerous.

“You will NEVER be my daughter!” she screamed, backing away from me. “You are an abomination! A freak! A monster!” She looked at my knight, desperation creeping into her voice now “Don’t listen to him, he’s sick.” she seethed.

He looked at her. “You disgusting wench.” he choked out “To have conceived of someone…as…lovely as her, and to re-…to rejec-” his voice cracked and he paused. He swallowed hard and sniffed deeply, shaking his head again. “You are the demon, here, woman. You are the monster.” He looked back at me, eyes pleading for approval. “You’re doing so well, my darling knight.” I whispered, reaching out to gently stroke his armored cheek. “Finish it.” I turned my back again to them both a final time, addressing the camera once more. “Let us give the audience what they crave, shall we?”

I walked to the kitchen counter as my mother went against her word, as she always did. She pleaded with him. Desperate, delicious pleading. “No no no! No! Just—Just go! You can just leave, you don’t need to do this. I’ll never tell I swear! PLEASE!” she sputtered. I mumbled over my shoulder, speaking directly to the boy’s subconscious “Though her physical form may appear less hideous, her soul is even darker than his was.” Here, in the dingy kitchen, sitting beside the pile of unpaid bills and despair, was a bottle of stout spirits my father used on occasion, in order to numb his pathetic existence. I grabbed it by the neck as the boy swung the machete again, my mother screaming all the while.

I made my way back to the living room with the eyebot floating subserviently at my side. My mother was on her knees now, hands shredded from trying to defend against the knight’s retributive swings. “Please!” she begged him again. “I won’t say—” her words were cut off as the blade found its mark again, this time slicing through her forearm in full. What was left of her hand fell to the floor with a wet thud. She grasped at her gushing stump and screamed. A raw, primal sound that echoed through the small house.

I paused to look at his work, and then surmised “I think she needs one more good strike, baby boy. Might still be able to spit out something useful before the blood leaves her.” He nodded silently, his eyes bloodshot and locked on her. Tears dripped off the rim of the mask as he raised the machete once more. He brought it down with all the strength he had left. The top of her head cleaved open and she slumped back, silent at last.

He shouted again, the adrenaline forcing its way through his vocal cords, as I uncorked the bottle. I splashed the contents liberally across the curtains, the sofa, and the rug. The smell of cheap booze mingled with the copper scent of blood. A cocktail of domestic tragedy. I let dear old mom and dad have the last sips, pouring the remainder over their still forms.

The boy caught his breath and stammered “What are you doing now?” I could hear every fiber of him screaming to head toward the door. His eyes darted between the dead and I.

“Finishing my masterpiece.” I replied.

I was preparing a burnt offering to the new god of this place. Myself.

I pulled a lighter from the pocket of my robe; a souvenir from a smoker I’d charmed some months prior. I sparked it and the flame danced gleefully.

“Run, little knight,” I said, looking up at the boy. The flame and I tiny, hungry things reflecting in the blackened plasteel of his mask. “The police will be here soon. But our narrative arc does not end here.”

He didn’t need telling twice. With a choked sob, he bolted out the front door, vanishing into the wet darkness outside. I dropped the lighter.

The high-proof liquor caught instantly. A wave of blue and orange heat whipped up the curtains, licking at the ceiling. The fire alarm broke the precious silence once more as I retrieved the bag I’d prepared from the hall closet.

I walked to the door, the eyebot slowly hovering backward to keep me in frame. At the threshold, I turned back one last time. They were both burning now, no sign of fighting it. They were gone.

“Goodbye… ‘Mother’,” I said. I had to pause to clear the growing smoke from my lungs. “Goodbye, ‘Father’.” I already needed to clear my throat again. I did it with a scream from deep within me, determined to make a final statement. “Thank you for the vessel. Thank you for teaching me the meaning of cruelty. I have no further use for you now.”

I stepped out into the cool night air, coughing. The heat of the burning house warmed my back, a glowing cape of destruction. I walked down the crawlway, the gravel crunching beneath my bare feet. I felt lighter. Ethereal. I was floating.

I pulled my comm from a pocket of the robe and took a brief glance at the chat. It was scrolling too fast to be legible, a torrent of awe and horror. I reached up and plucked the eyebot from the air once more, bringing the camera close to my masked face.

“Show’s over, darlings,” I whispered “The next time you see me… the world will be kneeling.”

I crushed the bot in my hand, severing the connection. Its light dimmed and darkness returned, save for the beautiful, flickering orange glow. Long shadows pranced joyously down the street in all directions.

I had never felt more powerful. The audience’s new obsession fueled the flames of my divinity.

• Chapter 4 •

Engine of Choice

I could see my shattered knight fumbling through the darkness inside his crawler. His bloodied hands and dazed mind had made starting the engine a challenge, just as expected. I tapped on the window to get his attention. He looked up, startled. I nodded toward the road. He hesitated, terrified; but then popped the lock for me.

I slid in beside him, and he finally managed to fire up the hulking machine. We pulled out onto the roadway, the running lights cutting through the night. Behind us, a fire drone was already arriving, its siren wailing in the distance. I smiled to myself and took one last look back at the burning coffin of my former life.

I directed him out of the zone. As we drove, I felt a thrill of exhilaration coursing through me. I was free. I was powerful. I was a fucking god. He didn’t feel quite as positive about the situation. “You…you fucking set me up. You had this whole fucking thing planned before you even met me.” he spat, his voice shaking with rage and fear. I shrugged nonchalantly. “They were holding me back. I had to be free.” He glared at me and said “You could have just left. You didn’t have to kill them.” My reply was at first but a laugh.

“Boy, I am not helpless. I brought you in as a gift.” I said, glaring at him, before softening my demeanor and adding “Besides…You’ve performed admirably, this night. You should be proud, regardless.” He hesitated, and thought about it a while. Finally, he nodded slowly. “Yeah…I guess I did what needed to be done.” he admitted reluctantly. “And you did it well.” I assured him.

While he navigated the twisting roadways according to our frazzled memories, I climbed in the rear of the cabin where I’d stowed my bag, and changed back into my street clothing. I then returned to the front to wipe as much of the blood from him as I could. We arrived at the spoke we needed in short order, and quickly located the cheap motel we’d discussed earlier. I tied my hair up and put on a hat, pulled it low, then went inside to rent a room for us. The night clerk didn’t look up, too busy with his scanner. He seemed enthralled by it. I lowered my voice a shade for the brief interaction and used a burner cred stack from the bag.

I entered the room first, checked it out. Then I stood around on the sidewalk for a while, making sure no one was watching. Finally, I signaled him and he quickly made his way inside, hiding his bloodied clothes as best he could.

I retrieved some clean clothes from the bag and handed them to him. “Change into these.” I instructed. He looked at me with a mild shock, stammering a little “Th-these are…These are my clothes.” I nodded. “Well yeah, you can’t exactly walk around in what you’re wearing now, can you?” He hesitated, mumbling “How did you get these—how long…” I just smiled. At last he took the clothes and went into the bathroom to clean himself up and change. He closed the door behind him, and I teased “What are you, scared of me?” He didn’t respond.

I waited patiently in the room, listening to the sound of the running water. After a while, I made effort to prepare us both some relief from the tension of the night. First, I changed back into my robe. Then I pulled a little medicine case from my big bag. My portable pharmacy.

When he finally re-emerged, he looked a lot more composed. The ice was still doing its thing, and working better now the adrenaline was waning. His pupils were the size of dinner plates. Then he saw the buffet I’d prepared for him. “You’ve done well for me, little knight. You’ve made all the right choices tonight,” I praised him, “and you deserve a reward…” I gestured to the array of drugs and alcohol I’d unpacked, laid out on the little motel desk. ”…Choose wisely once more.”

“How long?” he asked, still trying to process everything. I thought it over, then answered as best I could “I don’t really track that sort of thing. I think it was about a week ago, maybe ten days. Saw you sitting in some bar alone, looking lost. Just like tonight. And every night between.” He nodded slowly, the pieces falling into place. “You were watching me this whole time…Ever since I arrived in the Hub.” he surmised. I smiled, assuring him “I knew you were special. I could tell.” He looked at me, a flame of admiration illuminating in his eyes. He quietly said “You really are…something else.” I laughed softly and replied “You have no idea, little knight. No idea at all.”

He sat at the desk, examining my offerings. After a moment, he picked up a small bag of powder and rolled it between his fingers. “This one,” he said, holding it up. “The sheen of the flake in here…I feel like it’s speaking to me. What is it?” I grinned and offered assistance “Well darling, that’s probably not the best choice this evening. High grade neuro stim. They harvest this shit from some kind of crazy-ass fucking eel thing, down in the swamp east of the Sump. Take it for later, if you like, but I suggest you pick something else for now.” He pocketed it, then examined the inventory once more.

“These pills, what are they?” he inquired as he picked up another bag, this one containing a few pink tablets, chalky in texture. I answered him thoroughly once more “Now those are what you want right now, good choice. Neotabs. Corpo stuff. Shit will put your medial orbitofrontal cortex in a silk gown and whisper sweet nothings to it all night.” He opened the baggie as I instructed him “Let it dissolve under your tongue. Just one for now.” He dropped one out of the bag and popped it in his mouth. I stood behind him, and rubbed his shoulders as he let it begin. “Give me one too, will you? These are my favorite.” I said, and he did as he was told.

“Ah dome feer bah” he said clumsily as he tried not to disturb the chalky substance under his tongue. I raised an eyebrow and smiled impishly at him. A moment later I swallowed and let him know he could do the same. He restated it clearly then “I don’t feel bad about any of it. They were…fucking animals.” I kissed him deeply.

It was a beautiful thing, witnessing the dissolution of a conscience.

“You said, I deserve…to be rewarded? Were the drugs my reward?” he asked, voice husky. I grinned, sharp and predatory, moving to stand directly in front of him. “Partly,” I replied, letting my robe slip open as I did so. He stared at my cock. Now he was truly taking it all in for the first time. “But you’ve done so well for me, baby. I think there’s something else I can give you. Something far more valuable.” I took his hand, pulling him from the chair. He followed easily, his movements loose. I led him to the bed, the cheap synthetic sheets waiting to receive us. I pushed him down, not gently. He fell back, looking up at me as I stood over him, the neon lights of the motel sign outside casting stripes of fluorescent pink across the room.

“You’re done thinking for tonight,” I commanded, dropping the robe to the floor. “Now, you worship.”

It was not a joining of equals. It was a sermon, and I was a fiery preacher, delivering my own gospel. I showed him that his preconceptions about pleasure were as outdated as his morality. I used the body I had crafted to break his mind further, to reshape his instincts until they aligned solely with my desires. He was clumsy at first, hesitant about the hardware, but I guided him with a firm hand. I taught him that submission to a goddess is the highest form of power a mortal can hope to touch.

When I took control, straddling his waist and pinning his wrists to the headboard, he didn’t resist. He gasped, his eyes rolling back, lost in the cocktail of sensation and chemicals. I looked down at him, at the blood, some his, some my parents’; still faintly visible beneath his fingernails. I felt another surge of triumph. I had taken a boy, frightened of himself, and forged him into the weapon he had for so long fought against becoming.

We fucked until dawn, until the first light of morning crept through the thin curtains. I rode him hard, my body slick with sweat, my mind alight with the thrill of domination. He was mine, utterly and completely. A loyal knight to his goddess.

Finally, spent and sated, we collapsed together, our bodies entwined.

My first conquest was now complete and victory was absolute.

It was many hours later when I finally awoke. I felt like I had rested for the first time in years. The drugs had worn off, leaving me a head full of cotton and pain; but I was joyous nonetheless. I looked over at my knight, still asleep beside me. His face was peaceful, untroubled. I smiled to myself, feeling a deep sense of satisfaction. I went and drank some water from the sink, then fetched a cigarette from my bag. I opened the door to our room and let the cold air sweep across my naked form as I lit up. He groaned softly from the bed, and rolled over, moaning “Too bright…” I chuckled to myself and said “Rise and shine, little knight. My kingdom awaits.”

“My head feels like a bucket of nails.” he muttered, sitting up slowly. I handed him my cigarette and he took a drag, wincing slightly. “What time is it?” he asked. I glanced at my comm. “Just past noon.” I replied. He sighed and stretched, then looked at me with a curious expression. “So…what now?” he inquired. “Up to you” I said, blowing out a stream of smoke “Best thing for ya would be to get far away from me, I imagine.” He nodded slowly, understanding the implication and the weight of it. “Yeah…You’re right,” he agreed “but what if I don’t want to?” I raised an eyebrow at him. “Well that would be a shame, wouldn’t it? You might get in to trouble.” I teased him.

He looked at me, a spark of defiance in his eyes. “Maybe I like trouble.” he said, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. I laughed softly, shaking my head. “You really are something else, my dark knight.” I said, standing up and stretching “But I suppose that’s what drew me to you in the first place.” He smiled back at me, and for a moment, we simply looked at each other, two souls bound by a shared experience. Finally I began dressing myself. Something cute, but practical. “I can’t stay in this sector. A couple of the pigs here know me. My new face. They’re going to be looking for me.” I explained as I pulled on my clothes, frowning at their wrinkles from packing.

“Like I said, south side is where I belong now.” I finished, zipping up my jacket. “You coming?” I asked him. He hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah…I think I am.” he said. “Well, we’ll need to get your shit then, I suppose. Quick trip to your place shouldn’t be…too risky. I think.” I replied.

Soon we were back in the crawler, retracing our steps from the night before. “I want to see…” I mumbled to him as the turn toward my old home came up. He glared at me and said “It’s not worth it.” I nodded. He was right, but it was so tempting. I craned my neck to get a look down their road as we passed it by. Still a bit of smoke rising above the neighborhood. Maybe a police crawler, I wasn’t sure. We made our way on to his building, arriving a short time later.

“You want to wait here?” he said, as the crawler slid into the curb and settled again. “Nah, it’s a long drive from here I better stretch my legs. Besides I left my purse up there.” I said, popping the hatch and stepping out. It was only then I spotted it. A police crawler, parked on the side of the building. Annoying coincidence. But surely nothing more than that. I didn’t recognize the unit number, so no huge concern. We made our way inside and then up the stairs to his apartment.

Rounding the corner into the hallway to his unit, we both froze. The door was open, slightly ajar. We crept closer. I could feel my heart pounding in my throat. As we drew close we could hear the crackle of a radio and men talking. We looked at eachother, silently trying to work out our next move. Suddenly, a figure emerged from the apartment. He was looking back as he stepped into the hall, discussing things with his partner “Yeah, she was here alright. Left in a hurry though, didn’t even get her stuff.” It was a cop. A big one, fat slab of pork in a uniform. We both drew back quietly around the corner again.

I am not infallible. I am merely ineffible.

“We know anything about this tenant?” the pig asked. There was a muffled but intelligible response from within the apartment “Yeah, they got a hit back on the prints. Looks like hes on the run out of some knuckle dragger shithole to the north, in the sticks. Chopped up his fiance or some sort of weird shit like that.” We’d heard enough then. We booked it down the stairs. Too eager. “Hey-the fuck was that?” I heard the pig as we hit the first landing. Heavy shuffling above us. “STOP!” came a shout from behind us. We kept going, taking several steps at a time. We hit the front door of the building hard and kept running, jumping back into the crawler.

“How the fuck did they connect me? You said they’d never-” the boy spit the words at me as he fired up the engine and the six wheeled beast screamed away from the curb. “I have no fucking idea, this is totally fucked now.” I said, wracking my brain as to where I went wrong. I looked back as we sped away and saw the two cops fumbling out of the building toward their rig. “Didn’t get a good look. Skinny one with the big guy. Could be anybody…” I mumbled, trying to connect any dots I could. “Here, turn. We’ll hit the corridor.” I said, pointing to a long ramp leading up to the great highway. I looked back again. Fuck. They saw us make the turn, won’t be that easy.

As we got up top it was the typical traffic. Not too dense, thankfully. “Fucking open this shit up.” I commanded the knight. He gripped the levers tightly and I felt the acceleration press me into the seat. I continued watching behind us. There they were. The police rig was moving too quickly coming up the ramp, caught air and skidded. I held my breath, hoping for the worst; but they regained control and were gaining on us in short order. “Fuck. FUCK!” I shouted, then turned to him “Any ideas?” He shook his head slowly, eyes fixed on navigating the traffic that we were zipping by.

“It’s the crawler.” I realized, the words spilling from my mouth as the thought erupted in my mind. “What?!” he asked, bewildered. I answered “Has to be the crawler, only connection back to you.” Then I asked him something I should have thought of already “Did you put your address on the lease?” He took his eyes off the road then, only briefly. He didn’t say anything, just looked at me. Answered me nonetheless.

I scooted across the bench seat and leaned my head against his shoulder. “I’m sorry about this. I’ll always remember what you did for me.” I said. I kissed his cheek.

Never expect progress without sacrifice.

I grabbed one of the control levers and wrenched it back as hard as I could. He shouted “What the fuck!” as the hulking machine lurched left, throwing me back across the seat and slamming me into the door. Things went starry. The vehicle careened across twelve lanes as he struggled to get it back in his control. No use at this speed. He thought he got it, but as soon as the wheels grabbed any leverage we were rolling. All the glass exploded and we were floating in a sparkling sea, slamming into eachother and the frame as we tumbled with unfathomable, inhumanly violent force.

I heard a scraping sound, had some brief awareness I was lying on the ceiling. A sharp sound like an explosion, tearing metal. Everything went black.

• Chapter 5 •

Plasteel Prophecy

An indeterminate time later I found my vessel again. I was laying in a pool of some sort of liquid. Couldn’t tell if it was rain…Fuel? Blood? Maybe a mix. I tried to sit up. Every molecule of my body screamed. Wait, no. Not every bit…The legs? Nothing coming from down there. Panic seized my mind. I felt myself hyperventilating. Maybe even screaming. I tried again to move, this time just rolling myself a bit. Finally I could see the wreck. There was my broken knight, folded over the doorframe. His head lolled at an unnatural angle. Blood pooled beneath him. I could see flame licking the wheels on the other side.

I slowly started sensing sound again. Yeah, I was screaming. How undignified. I tried to stop, but couldn’t. My throat was raw. I heard an aerolite overhead, and became aware of the sirens on the road nearby. I focused on them, trying to block out my agony. Finally I managed to get a grip on myself. I needed to move. Had to get out of here, before…But my legs wouldn’t respond at all. I went to pull myself with my arm and saw a red, gelatinous mass with two white shafts poking through, just where my hand was supposed to be. A comforting black cloud enveloped me and I was out again.

I remember hearing voices “Get her out of here, she’s losing a lot of blood!” A lurching sensation. The buzz of the aerolite loud and close. Some time later “Hear anything about the other one?” and “Nah, but split his face the fuck open from what I saw loading this one. Wasn’t dead yet though.” Another voice, robotic sounding “Sadistic fucks are lucky we were right there. Should have let them burn.” Then cold, placid silence again for what seemed like forever.

I slowly opened my eyes again. I was in a white room now. It was silent except for a rhythmic beeping. I tried to turn my head. Agony. Just the eyes then. Even that hurt, but I got a look. Hospital. Left hand shackled to the bed. Right hand gone. Legs looked…fine? Tried to wiggle a toe. Full body in flames, no response from the toe. Fuck. I heard the beeping accelerate its pace behind me. God damn it, now I was screaming again. People rushed into the room. Something was injected into my IV. It was ice cold, I felt it circulate around my body and the pain subsiding. I managed to stop screaming. Tried to speak but my tongue rolled uselessly against my teeth instead. They didn’t feel quite right.

Someone else entered the room. Uniform. Couldn’t focus on the face. The skinny one from before, maybe. “I don’t know if you can hear me.” A voice said “But you’re safe now. We took him to a different hospital, so you didn’t have to see him. He’s far away and he won’t hurt you or anyone else again. You did good, little flower. Just rest.” The black cloud eminated in globs from the dark fabric of his uniform, swirled around the room and took me away again.

I came back to myself once more, and this time I decided I’d just lay there. Keep the eyes shut. I tried to focus on the memory of the cop. No, detective? Didn’t talk like a beat cop. Detective, yeah. He said I did good. Maybe I did. Maybe I was good. Felt like I was floating again. Like I was free. Oh. I was high as fuck, they had me on the good shit. Decided to open my eyes. Still no hand, still shackled by the remaining one. If I did so good why’s that here? What about the toes? Nothing. Fuck. Face itched, tried to move the good arm; nothing. How bad was it?

A voice. The same one. I squinted, trying to make out the face this time. The light was so fucking bright. “Sorry about the shackle. It ain’t all exactly crystal yet, doll.” he said. I couldn’t tell if he was even facing me. Let it go for now. See if I can speak yet. “Whermi” I blubbed. God damn it. “Wherrre aahh-mm iii?” Slightly better, it’d have to do anyway. “Saint Delphi’s. Its a good place, don’t worry.” he answered “They’re gonna fix your neck.” Well, that’s good news. “Paaraa..para…p-” ah fuck it. He answered me anyway “Yeah, you got ejected. Flew ‘bout, I don’t know, 50 meters. Crazy shit. Thought sure you were dead on the spot.” I wondered if it was some kind of record.

“The hand though…Minor prosthesis ain’t really under universal coverage,” he continued. Fucking “minor”, call it that when its your hand pulped into the asphalt. “But. If you can work with us; make sure this freak is put away proper…I’ve secured a deal. A good one, too. Told’em you were family. They’re even gonna give you some new teeth.” Family? Who the fuck…Nah, he was just bluffing. Anyway, looked like things were at least lined up along the lines I’d hoped. Need to give them something. Grease the wheels. “Raay…r-…rape.” I managed to squeeze it out. Nice, they’ll eat that shit up. Go for two. “Fa…fam…” I heard his boots on the sterile tile floor. I knew his hand was on my intact arm, but I couldn’t feel it. “I know. Save your strength for later.” he said. I wished the black cloud would come again, but it never did.

I spent the next few weeks high off my tits, watching cartoons. Getting fed through a fucking tube for a good bit of it, but not the worst all in all. Got some feeling back in my remaining fingers eventually. My detective “relative” never returned, to my disappointment. Never did get his name or even more than a blur of a face. Instead the porky one started visiting. He was far less agreeable. “My partner says you’re family, so I’ll go easy on you. But don’t think for a second I believe you, you faggot.” he’d said, the first day. There was the claim of family again, and this time second-hand. Not just a bluff, still definitely bullshit. But why? I’d only groaned in response, mostly out of annoyance rather than pain for once. And his reply? “They had to cut your clothes off to check the damage. Out there on the pavement. Saw your fucking chode, you freak.” Great beside manner.

More time passed, not sure how long. It all ran together. After the surgery though. They were weaning me off the opiates now, sad to say. Itchy as fuck. At least I could feel my toes again, even if they drove me nuts. Upper body was working well enough again, but they said I’d need therapy to walk. When I asked when I could start, all they’d said was “One thing at a time, dear.” Well hurry it up with the other things, then. The fat fuck showed up about once a week, and I’d tell him my sob story once more. Made sure to keep it all straight for him, I knew he was trying to catch me out despite all his claims of “Just hoping something new might’ve resurfaced.” Eventually though, he relented and freed me from the shackle.

Finally the day came they told me I could try putting weight on the old bones. It was rough. I was exhausted after a few minutes but I did manage to stand about half on my own for a moment. I wouldn’t let this shit stop me though. I’d drag this fucking vessel to the end of the world, whatever it took. As I lay there trying to recover my strength he showed up again, right on schedule to my great dismay. “Heard you stood up today, boy. Maybe you’ll be able to testify, huh?” he said, clodding into the room. “Why don’t y’all ever send the skinny one?” I replied. He chuckled pigishly and said “Hey, you should be thankful! He’s out there doing the real work on this thing.”

I hoped he wasn’t working too hard. “What else is there to do? You got the fuck that did this shit. You got me to point at him in the courthouse.” I said, prying for details. He replied “Well you can never be too careful with these things. Could be you set him up.” I scoffed “Oh yeah buddy, so I fucking charmed a guy into cooking up my parents? You must think I’m really fucking sexy, huh?” Grumbles from the pig were all I got in response. Too easy. Fucking dimwit cuck. A short time later, as he sat reading some reports on a datapad, he piped up again “I’ll give you this, at least. Took some balls wrecking that heap, fast as y’all was goin’.” Sideways compliment but I took it.

“I wanted to live.” I said simply. “Wanted it real fuckin’ bad I’d say. Hell, somebody fucked my ass, chopped up my family? Dunno. Might just give up. What you got to live for?” he replied. I laughed, coughed a bit and then said “I’m still young, porky. Besides…They wouldn’t have wanted me to give up. Daddy always said, no matter what happens you pick up and you try again.” The words tasted like shit in my mouth, but I thought they actually endeared him a bit; maybe it was worth it.

Lies are crude scaffolding. Necessary tools that buy the world time to become worthy of honesty.

“Hey…Listen,” I started again “I did this for them you know. I couldn’t let him get away with it.” Fatty nodded as if he knew anything. I figured I could pry a bit more, so I asked him “But…It sounded like, he might’ve done this before. Do you know anything about that?” He smiled like a devil. A gold tooth glinted at me as if to taunt. “Yes’um I—auh…” He cleared his throat and then continued “Yes’er. I was just looking at his file. Looks like choppin’ people up is his for-tee. Girlfriend, best friend, his own gods-damned mama.”

That last bit didn’t sound right. No, something else had happened there. He was being honest when he’d told me the story. Showed his whole soul to me. Maybe she lied about how she got the money together. Oh well, no matter now. “He fucking rape them, too?” I said with a seething tone. “The girl, yeah. After she was dead from the look of it.” Maybe he wasn’t being honest after all. “What the fuck?” I muttered “I knew he was a sick fuck, but holy shit.” My stomach churned. Not from what he might’ve done, I couldn’t care less. But the idea I might’ve misread him. Hated that. Mister Bedside Manner laughed like I’d told him a racist joke. I wished I could shred him to pieces.

“There’s…something else I wanted to ask.” I said once I got a hold on myself again “Don’t tell him but…I can’t remember how we’re related. The skinny one and I.” He raised an eyebrow, suspicious. Studied my face a moment and then discarded it, giving us both the benefit of the doubt. “He’s your uncle as I understand it. Mother’s side.” he said, succinctly. “Uncle…” I mumbled. “Harry.” he finished for me “Harold Clancey.” I pretended like it rang a bell. Just one problem. My mother, the fucking spoiled bitch, was an only child. Why was he lying for me? No matter for now, though. He was useful.

“You’re real lucky you know,” he said, picking at the food left for me next to the bed “If you didn’t have family on the force…With your choice of lifestyle,” he continued, staring at my chest “you probably wouldn’t get to say your piece.” I shrugged, placing my stump across my breasts. “Yeah well. Life’s funny that way.” I replied “Anyway, thanks for…you know. Helping me out and all that.” He grunted in response. “Just do your part when the time comes, ah-right?” he said, beginning to leave. “You got it, porky.” I replied.

By a couple of weeks later I was getting along well enough with the therapy I was regularly walking around the ward, though with a cane. It was slow going, but I was driven. Had to get out of this place eventually. Even porky wasn’t visiting me much anymore. Finally the day came for my interview with the district attorney. I was nervous as all hell. Had to get everything right. No slip ups. I was determined to see this through to the end. She was a stern woman, sharp as a tack. She introduced herself cordially enough, but when she got down to business, she was all business. She made it clear she expected nothing but the truth from me, and that any deviation would be met with severe consequences. “Yes ma’am.” I said, letting her know I understood the gravity of the situation.

She let fly two eyebots before setting into grilling me. She hounded me on every facet of the case. We went over and over the same details for hours. I held my ground, answering her questions with confidence. She seemed satisfied with my testimony, and I felt a surge of relief wash over me. “Case like this, we try to avoid making the victim appear in court.” she said finally “Hopefully, these vids will be sufficient. But the defense is free to call you if they’re able to show they have a shot at shaking your story.” I nodded again, trying to hide my anxiety. “Understood.” I replied. She stood up, signaling the end of our meeting. “Thank you for your time, miss…” she said, extending her hand. I shook it firmly, grateful that this part was over.

Several days later, a nurse was helping me wash myself when Clancey showed up for one final visit. He was in a hurry, so he stood outside the door, speaking through it “Good news, li’l flower. Defense is claiming insanity. Apparently the kid’s trying to claim you were some sort of cult leader, brainwashing him into doing this.” I acted surprised. “What the fuck?” I said “That’s…That’s ridiculous.” He chuckled, replying “Yeah, well. They think they can get a lighter sentence that way. We’ll see how it plays out.” I sighed. “I just want to be done with this.” I mumbled.

I could hear him smiling as he said “Well thats the good news, doll. Since they’s pleading insanity, the testimony you gave to the D.A. is uncontested. You’re done. You done your part now.” I grinned at the nurse. “Does that mean I get my new hand soon?” I asked, excited. He chuckled and said “Sure does! And the staff will have to stop calling you snaggletooth, too. Got a fresh set of chompers on the way.” I laughed, overjoyed. “I didn’t know they were calling me that.” I said. “Ah shit, girl. Don’t tell’em I said that will ya?” he replied as we shared another laugh. I glared at the nurse as we said our goodbyes through the door. “Snaggletooth, really?” I chided her.

The next day I got my first surgery. Just the teeth. They felt all wrong in my mouth, but they looked nice. A few days later, the big one. An army of medical personel and bots, sixteen hours under partial anesthesia. They needed me awake for feedback as they painstakingly wired every nerve into the cold plasteel chassis, fitted the palm and tips of the digits with synthskin pads, and tested for sensation. It was agonizing, but I was enthralled the whole time. The process was fascinating. It felt…correct.

It felt like prophecy.

Finally, it was the day of my discharge. Several months had passed, and winter had settled over the great city in my absense. They insisted I be wheeled out the front door, like some sort of healing ritual. Also insisted I keep using the cane, and report for physical therapy twice a week. Standing from the chair into the cold air outside, I felt a new thrill of triumph. Not over the world, this time; but my own vessel. Reforged, soon I would be better than before. The hand was incredible. And it didn’t mind the cold. I tossed the cane in a bin and smiled at the nurse who’d wheeled me out as she frowned at the bin. “I’ll be fine, darling. Thank you for everything.” I said. “Take care of yourself, miss.” she replied, before heading back inside. I took a deep breath of the crisp air, feeling alive in a way I hadn’t in a long, long time.

I made my way, still somewhat clumsily, to the curb. There was a man sitting on a bench, smoking a cigarette. I bummed one from him and sat next to him, letting him light it for me. He looked at me curiously. “You new around here?” he asked. I nodded, taking a drag. “Just got out of the hospital.” I replied. He raised an eyebrow. “You look like you’ve been through hell.” he said. I smiled wryly. “You could say that.” I answered. We sat in silence for a moment, the smoke curling between us. He looked at my new hand, the chrome finish of the plasteel glinting in the winter sun. “War injury?” he asked. I took a drag, savoring the burn. “Something like it. Birth defect,” I replied. “I was born soft. Had to fix it.” He nodded, accepting the truth. “Well, looks expensive. Must be nice.” I said “It cost everything,” and stood up, adding “and it was a bargain.”

My war was with fate. And I had won this battle.

Part Two

A dark queen surveys the land, searching for the proper site to found her new empire.

• Chapter 6 •

Winter’s Embrace

The city was a frozen wasteland. Snow blanketed the streets, muffling the sounds of life. I needed a score, and fast. Wasn’t about to sleep on the streets. I made my way to a nearby dive bar, hoping to find some work. It was tough going at first, walking still felt…wrong, somehow. A couple of blocks back on my beloved streets seemed to do more for me than a couple of weeks of therapy had, though. I was feeling pretty natural by the time I spotted a likely joint. Perhaps I was just distracted by the chill, though. In any case, sign on the front advertised cheap wells and billiards. Perfect spot for this kind of late afternoon crawl. Low class, but bordering the wealth. There’d be a nice mix of fair here.

The place was dimly lit, the air thick with smoke and the smell of cheap alcohol. A few patrons, the regular types, were scattered around, nursing their drinks. I approached the bar and ordered a drink I couldn’t pay for, trying to blend in. As I sipped my drink, I scanned the room for potential targets. Pretty quiet this time of day, as expected. Perhaps there would be some early afternoon business folk coming in soon.

A good while passed sipping my drink, small-talking the bartender and an older man beside me at the bar, but it was better than standing around in the cold air outside. Then, at some juncture toward evening a group of young corporates shuffled in the door and took a booth in the corner. They ordered drinks and appetizers and in short order were laughing and boasting about their latest trades. They looked like easy pickings. Standard-issue cheap suit youngsters, faking it until they could make it. Still enjoying the trappings of their youth in dives such as this one, whenever the higher-ups weren’t looking.

I let one of them catch eyes with me. “Hey there, handsome.” said my look. Then a shy little smile. Moments later, the bartender was passing me an absurdist’s vision of fruit in the form of some shitty cocktail. “From the gentlemen in the corner.” he said. I wrinkled my nose and he and I shared a laugh. I picked it up, though. Made my way to their table. “Which one of you boys picked this out for me?” I asked, tapping my metallic fingers rhythmically on the glass. One of them replied “That would be me, gorgeous. Name’s Mark.” How ironic. I smiled at him, letting my eyes linger. He was handsome enough, in that corporate drone way. Clean cut ruddy blonde, sharp features, expensive haircut.

“Well Mark, you have excellent taste.” I embellished him, taking a sip of the drink and trying not to wince at the exaggerated blend of flavors. He grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “Why don’t you join us?” he offered. He started shoving his friend further into the booth as he boasted “I was just telling my colleagues here of my latest exploits.” I smiled back at him and sat down in the space they’d allowed. “Oh? And what might those be?” I asked, feigning interest.

He launched into a story about a recent business deal he’d closed, his voice growing louder and more animated as he spoke. I listened with a mid-effort impression of attentiveness, nodding along and laughing at the appropriate moments. He never asked me a word about myself. Not even my name.

It didn’t take too terribly long for him to finish, thankfully. Then it was time to ask me to dance. I knew he couldn’t, but I played along. Let him pick a song from the sound deck. He chose a decent, heavy beat, though outdated. His idea of dancing was just grinding up against me, trying to feel me up. I let him have his fun for a bit, pretended I was into it. Somewhere in between the grinding sessions I returned the groping, grabbing his ass. And his wallet. It was always too easy with these faux-cool types. So desperate for validation. Back at the table I quickly started subtly flirting with his friends. The air became thick with testosterone and it wasn’t long before they were all at eachother’s throats. The bartender came to ask them to contain it, and I slipped away.

Friend of his followed me to the bar. The cute one. Dark hair, smokey brown eyes. He was kind of buff, for a suit. A mustache on these types typically looked rather silly, but he wore his with…Class? For lack of a better word. He looked more refined, perhaps more mature, than his friends. “Sorry about them…” he said, trying to sound like the thoughtful type. Or perhaps he was. “I’m James.” he added, extending his hand. I rolled my eyes, annoyed. “Nyx.” I said, not shaking his hand. He was quick to reveal his full motivations, though. I guessed my visible annoyance with him told him to just shoot the shot. He asked me “You want to get out of this place? I know a spot more suited to a lady of your, uh…refinement.” What a clumsy approach. Kind of sweet though. I laughed.

“Let me guess. Your penthouse?” I asked, letting him hear my incredulity. He looked sheepish, and paused for a moment, then said “No…Torlino’s. It’s pretty exclusive. Not far from here. I’ll pay your cover.” I smiled with a bit of implied awe then. I’d heard of the place. Knew better than to believe there’d be a cover charge for me, but I went along with it “Oh, Johnny’s in the sky? I’ve heard of it. Sure, why not.” I replied. He laughed awkwardly. He hadn’t really expected it to work out. “Oh! Great then! Shall we go? We’ll need to stop off along the way, put on something nice.” he said, leading the way out of the bar.

I followed him through the twisting frigid streets. The spokes didn’t have an ideal layout anymore; constant growth had made them all a maze of alleys and side streets. Usually, I’d find the best bars at ground level in the back of some other business; but Johnny Corlino’s penthouse-turned-club occupied the entirety of the top two floors of the biggest tower in this spoke. He pointed the building out, standing tall above the nearer horizon, as we made our way. I knew it, but I pretended to be flabbergasted, hyping him up. Then I gave him the high maintenance routine he no doubt expected. “You said it wasn’t far,” I whined “I’m freezing.” He chuckled nervously. “Oh, don’t worry about that. I’ll keep you warm.” he said, putting his arm around my waist. I didn’t push him away.

We stopped off around halfway. The whole neighborhood was progressing toward the upscale as we neared the tower, and here we found a high end boutique. Neither of our outfits were quite up to Johnny’s standards. I picked out a nice gown, sleek and black with silver accents that complemented my new hand. Matching set of heels. When I went to pay for it, the young businessman whipped out his creds and covered the cost without a second thought. I smiled at him sweetly, grateful for his generosity. After he selected a suit, we used the dressing rooms once again to change into the new attire, placing our old clothes into the over-engineered shopping bags. I was elegant and pretentious in the gown, despite it being far from my usual style. He looked merely passable, despite this being his thing.

He said I needed a coat. Couldn’t argue with that, I hadn’t been fully prepared for winter when I’d gotten in the crawler all those months ago. He probably could have tried to be more concerned with my well-being though. His prime concern was, unapologetically, appearances. Showing off for his would-be peers currently suspended far above our heads. He picked out a long, fur-lined cloak for me; draping it over my shoulders. “This looks…Right for you, my dear.” he said, reading the price tag with a poorly veiled wince. We revisited the register for one last demonstration of his wealth before returning to the cold. Now it was of no concern to me, swaddled in the soft corpse of some other beautiful creature.

After that, he insisted we needed to stop at the salon nearby. Said he “Simply must have a manicure” and that he was “positively unkempt.” I tried not to roll my eyes again and instead went along with it. It was still early yet, and I could use a bit of pampering after what I’d been through. The salon was luxurious, with soft lighting and plush furnishings. We were treated to a full spa experience, complete with massages and facials. I let myself relax for the first time in what felt like ages.

When it came time for the manicures, I chose half of a long set of fresh nails. Classic red polish that paired with my lipstick. I paid no mind to what James was doing in this time, instead choosing to flirt casually with my lovely attendant.

“Don’t you think it should be half off for me, babe?” I joked with her. “We have other things for you, my love.” she replied, gently fondling the pads of my plasteel fingers. “Oh truly? Such as?” I inquired, eager to expand my repertoire of styles. She smiled. “Well, your hand’s not fitted for them but we do have nails for prosthesis. Besides that, though…” she said, pulling a box from her work station and opening it for me “The synthpads are highly customizable.” She gestured across an array of various colors and forms, finishing her pitch “We also can do jewel placement, and any of them can be backlit.”

We spent a short while discussing the various options. “James, baby. Would it be alright?” I pleaded to him across the way. He simply nodded. I selected cherry red synthskin pads and backlights. The attendant set to work installing them after she finished the nails on my fleshed fingers. It was a strange sensation, having the sense of touch snapped off as she removed the factory pads. Then having it restored in a new form, seemingly with greater sensitivity and resolution. I was fascinated. When she was done, I flexed my fingers experimentally, marveling at the way the light glowed softly beneath the pads. “There we go, darling.” she said, admiring her handiwork. She showed me how to control the lights. It was a gestured based arrangement that I thought showed potential for future additions.

I thanked her profusely, tipping her generously before we left. He once again paid for everything else, despite his less than star treatment from me. He’d make a good husband to some entitled debutante, one day.

We finally made our way up some two hundred levels in a glass elevator, eyeing the seemingly infinite city as it sprawled out beneath us. The view was breathtaking, particularly dressed in the colors of dimming twilight. The snow covered all the cracks in the facade of grandeur. When we finally arrived, I was struck by the opulence of the place. The interior was lavishly decorated, with plush furnishings and ornate chandeliers. The patrons were all dressed in their finest attire, sipping on expensive drinks and engaging in hushed conversations. He dropped a thousand cred at the door.

The hostess secured our bags for us, then lead the way to a private booth, where we were served champagne and some sort of disgusting fish eggs. The atmosphere was electric, with the hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses filling the air. I felt out of place, but I played along well, serving my best “wealthy socialite.”

As the night wore on, I found myself drawn away from my date. He was quite shy, and this resulted in him clamming up almost entirely in the face of the pretentious crowd. I grew tired of trying to include him, dragging him through vapid conversations both alone and with the bored elites unfortunate enough to be drug into his poorly executed scheme. He was getting his money’s worth out of me, which I deemed a waste of my time. Eventually, I found my eyes drawn toward the bar.

One should never let oneself be swayed by opulence.

The bartender was a devilishly handsome young woman, with piercing blue eyes and a charming smile. I struck up a conversation with her, asking for her recommendations on the best drinks in the house. She was eager to please, and soon we were chatting like old friends. I could tell she was interested in me, and I played along, flirting shamelessly. As things continued, I found myself growing bolder. I leaned in close to her, letting my hand brush against hers as I ordered another round of drinks. She looked at me with a mixture of desire and apprehension, clearly unsure of how to proceed.

Finally, I couldn’t resist. Decided to make my move. I stood up from the barstool and made my way to a secluded corner of the club, gesturing to her subtly as I did so. We found a quiet alcove, away from the prying eyes of the other patrons. There, I kissed her deeply, my plasteel hand caressing her face as we embraced. She responded eagerly, her hands roaming over my body as we lost ourselves in the moment. It was a heady experience, one that left me feeling alive and invigorated.

Then my hapless date found me again. He looked furious, his face contorted with rage. “What the fuck, you slut?” he seethed. She squeaked, embarrassed, and quickly hurried back to the bar. I laughed at him “You thought a coat and a manicure would buy you exclusive rights, James?” I said, taunting him as I put my arm around his waist. I made my way back to the main room. He followed along, verbally chewing at me under his breath as I slipped his wallet into my bag next his friend’s.

He was saying something about embarrassing him, as we got back into view. “A real man could’ve taken us both home.” I said quietly, with the tone of simple truths. He placed a hand on his hip, indignant. Then he felt it. The void where his wallet should have been. He raised his voice then, gaining the attention of many lavish eyes. An awkward hush enveloped the immediate vicinity. Now he was truly embarrassed. “James, darling, you’re drunk. I think its time for us to part ways.” I said loud enough for a few people to hear. He glanced around at the cold corporate stares surrounding us. Security was eyeballing him from the doorway.

He stuttered, tried to find a way to not look like the bad guy here. He couldn’t work it out. He apologized to those closest to us for disturbing them, and left defeated. I tried to look embarrassed for him, but unbothered. It was a good lesson for the boy, I’m sure. Things quickly returned to their normal dull drone of pretentious voices. I decided to make my way to the roof, check out the view before I found a room for the night.

It was glorious. A rare, clear evening. Moonlight reflecting brightly off the snow, and a billion lights twinkling above that. The black towers of the Hub rose in the distance like a cold blade through the back of a virginal white dress. I stood at the railing, admiring them. I wondered when I would find myself there, looking down on even this grand tower as I yet looked down at the underworld beneath it. It was only a matter of time.

I took the men’s wallets from my bag, and rifled through. A few cred stacks, identity cards, nothing too exciting. I found Mark’s had a small bag of flake, though. After buzzing the creds to my own stack and tossing the remains over the side, I dipped a long fingernail into the little baggie and held it just beneath my nose, sharply inhaling a hearty bump.

The rush was immediate. Warmth spread through my body, chasing away the cold. My heart raced, and I felt a surge of energy coursing through me. I closed my eyes, savoring the sensation. When I opened them again, the city seemed to shimmer and dance before me. The lights were brighter, the colors more vivid. I felt invincible, like I could take on the whole world at once. Fuck yeah. Too long without a good boost like this. I stood there a while, taking in the view. Tried to identify some known locations across the midzone, back in my home spoke.

Eventually, I grew bored of this and turned my back to the railing to scan the crowd in my typical fashion. Taking in the atypical patrons huddled around heaters. These were a darker bunch than those down stairs. People with the same money, but not the same high-minded sensibilities. I felt more comfortable here. These were, at least, more like my people.

Then I saw something most unusual, to me. There was a contractor in the corner, alone. Rough but handsome man. His skin resembled smooth dark chocolate, but he had bright eyes. A complex armored helmet sat on the table next to him, atop a pair of like-armored gauntlets. Three large red lenses were arranged in a triangle on the smooth face of it, with two smaller orbs flanking them. Fanciest shit I’d seen all night. Didn’t usually see the private military forces down on the streets, so I was instantly intrigued with him. I went to the small bar in the middle of the roof and ordered a drink, then sat and watched him for a while. He was paying no mind to the crowd, instead pouring over some documents on a large datapad.

Narrative forces often congregate. It is wise to follow their threads unto the knot.

I decided to try my luck. Wasn’t really sure what I might get out of it, but those are sometimes the best games. I at least could use a cigarette. I made my way over to him. “This seat taken, darling?” I asked him, placing my hand on the back of the chair across from him. Now that I was close I could see a tribal scarification design half encircling his left eye. I thought his eyes must surely have been modified to be so bright. Perhaps I was merely drawn to his beauty, I mused. How shallow of me.

“No thank you.” He said, as if I was conducting door to door sales. “Uh…Excuse me?” I replied, a bit caught off guard. “Whatever scheme you’re running. Find someone else.” he gruffed. Perceptive, too. I decided to change my tack. “Ay, bro…I was honestly just going to bum a smoke. This place makes my skin crawl.” I said, letting a hint of the lower class slip into my tone. I went ahead and sat down, to his grunts of protest.

“I don’t smoke.” he said, staring at me. “Guy…they’re right there in your webbing.” I replied, pointing to his chest “You can spare one. I won’t bother ya.” He glanced down at the tactical webbing draping the chest of his heavy body armor. “Fine. Just let me do my work.” he growled, and handed me one. “You got a light?” I pressed. “You want me to fucking smoke it for you too, tramp?” he replied. His tone was one of annoyance, but I sensed a slight amusement within it as well. He gave me a light as I requested, in any case. I lit the cigarette and took a slow drag, savoring the flavor and the burst of dearly missed chemicals.

Putting the lighter on the table for him, I exhaled a plume of smoke and watched it dissapate into the night air. I did as I said I would and didn’t bother him.

About halfway through my cancer stick he piped up on his own. “You’re a working girl, yeah?” he said. “Uhm. Not exactly, mister. I know some though. If you’re looking.” I replied, raising an eyebrow. “Sorry. Just assumed from the whole routine here. Get it a lot up here.” he said, glancing across the roof deck. He subtly pointed to a young woman on the other side of the room, standing next to a few suits, and mumbled “See?” I followed his gaze and nodded. “Yeah, I see her. That ain’t me, boss.” I chuckled. “Right.” he replied, still not fully believing me.

He lit up a cigarette of his own then. We smoked in silence for a few moments, the cold air making the smoke curl more visibly.

“You know some, though?” he asked. “Yeah, sure. I know all kinds of people…down there.” I answered, gesturing at the underworld beneath us “Good, clean, cute ones. What you lookin’ for?” He hesitated for a moment, then said “Nothing. No one…Just curious.” I laughed knowingly. “What brings you this far from Hub, anyway?” I pried. He looked away, avoiding my gaze. “Just work.” he mumbled. “Sure thing, buddy.” I said with a smirk, not buying it. “Look, if you want someone to show you a good time, I can help you out. No charge.” I offered. He looked at me then; really looked. “Why would you do that?” he asked, puzzled. I smiled at him, letting my eyes sparkle in the moonlight. “Because I like helping people.” I replied coyly. He considered this for a moment, then nodded slowly.

“I’m Nyx, by the way.” I said, extending my machine hand. He looked at it for a beat, then shook it, the synthpads illuminating his work-hardened skin as he did so. “Call me…Darius.” he replied, his grip firm. We sat in silence for another moment. He was processing something about me that had caught him off guard. Finally, he spoke again.

“I’m not looking to get fucked,” he said “but I could use some information.” My interest was piqued. “Now that, I often have in abundance.” I said softly. He looked at me, curious. “What kind of information?” he asked. “Depends on what you need.” I replied, taking another drag of my cigarette. He hesitated, then said “Corp’s got me here shadowing some detective,” he began “I might like to know if you…your girlfriends, that is, saw any business with him recently.” I nodded slowly. No way he meant good old Uncle Clancey, right? What would the odds be on that? Though, he was in the neighborhood…And then, I noted he was still eyeballing my new hand, thoughtfully.

I let him know I’d caught the look, turning the metal side to side for him and allowing him a good view. “Nice gear,” he said “How’d you afford that?” I smiled, and lowered a rope of smoke from my lips. “Cut a deal. With a detective.” I answered flirtatiously. “Detective?” he repeated, as a fire started in his ice colored eyes. “Yeah. My sweet uncle Harry.” I said, watching his reaction closely. He frowned, thinking. “Clancey?” he asked, confirming. “The very same.” I replied. His eyes narrowed. “You’re the girl, then.” he said, piecing it all together. “Yeah. Small world, huh?” I half-whispered.

He sighed, running a hefty hand across the stubble on the top of his head. “Yeah. Small fucking world.” he echoed in disbelief. We sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the revelation settling between us. I watched him trying to work out how this could be a setup. After a brief interlude, he spoke again. “Why’d he do it?” he asked “Why’d he lie for you?” I shook my head and bit my lip. “Damn it.” I replied “I was hoping you might tell me.” He shook his head as well, saying “That’s what I’m supposed to be finding out. Among other things. Lot of shit with this guy doesn’t add up.” I nodded and said “Yeah, tell me about it. He was saying we was family from the moment I woke up in the hospital.” I gestured down and across the way at the sprawling medical complex “I knew better, of course. But fuck me, one hell of a deal. What was I gonna say?”

“That’s another thing.” he replied “Don’t add up. From the outside, your case is open and shut. Freak what did it was dead to rights. Why even cut a deal with you?” Hmm. How much could I tell him? Case still pending, didn’t want to fuck myself over. Don’t address it directly. “Let’s just say…” I answered him carefully “They thought maybe his story wasn’t so insane, to begin with.” He raised his brow. I studied the wrinkles that formed in his forehead, trying to gauge his age, as he looked at me as though he was trying to see through me. “The one about you being some crazy cultist?” he asked slowly. I nodded. “Easy work for me then,” I said, nonchalant and smiling “just told them ah…the truth, you know.”

“He fucking you?” he asked, abruptly. I scoffed at him. “No really, was he fucking you?” he insisted. “No, dude. Ew.” I said laughing. He continued, unrelenting “Let me put it another way, girl. Would you remember, if he was?” I felt a pit form in my stomach. Of course I would. Visions of a black cloud boiling off a dark uniform rushed my mind. I pushed them back down. No fucking way. It was just the neurotrauma. “I think I’d remember fucking an old man.” I mumbled. “Look,” he said “I’ve already talked to a few girls. Back in y’alls spoke. Nobody ever remembers this guy.”

“Maybe he’s clean then.” I said dismissively. He put his high card on the table, then “That’s just it, though. I tailed him. Watched him pick up one of these gals. Find her a few hours later, she don’t remember his name. Not for all the money in the world.” Now that. That was interesting. “How would that…even work?” I asked, genuinely enraptured in the possibilities now. “Some kind of drug, I guess? Maybe a neuro pulser?” he replied, speculatively “Whatever it is, knocks their memory out cold. Leaves’em blank slates. He gets what he wants, they don’t remember a thing. Got some fairy tales instead, ‘just taking a bath in my hotel room’ or whatever.”

I shuddered at the thought of myself longing for the black cloud to envelop me as his hand had rested on my shoulder. “Fucks sake.” I said “That’s…That’s fucked.” He nodded in agreement. “Yeah. That’s only the half of it, too. I’m talkin’ young girls. Too fucking young, shouldn’t have even been on the streets. Orphans and shit.” he replied.

We sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the revelation settling between us once more. “I can’t remember his face.” I said quietly, slowly finding myself overcome with some kind of dread. Disgusting feeling. He tried to reassure me, saying “Hey, from what I read that was one hell of an accident. Doesn’t necessarily mean anything.” I shook my head in silence. After some time had passed, finally he spoke again “Look, I don’t know what game your ‘uncle’ is playing. But if you find out anything else, you let me know, alright?” He handed me a card with his buzzer number. I nodded slowly. “Sure thing.” I replied, taking the card from him and tucking it away in my bag. We finished our cigarettes in silence, the cold air numbing my remaining fingers despite the warmth of the nearby heaters.

As I stood to leave he said “And don’t worry. I’m not gonna fuck things up for you.” I eyed him and replied “Don’t see how you could, I’m just a victim after all.” He nodded and whispered to me “I saw the vid. Scraped off the dark net. I purged it myself.”

Dark friends may sometimes be found in the brightest places.

I sat back down. “Why?” I asked simply. “Two reasons. One, he seen it too. Still chose to do what he done. Figured I’d throw a loop in things if he was planning to hold it against you. Throw him off his game, maybe he slips up.” he replied, his voice as cold as his eyes. I squinted at him. He was not afraid of saying all of this. I got the feeling he’d even tell his boss. PMCs must have really had no rules of operation, just like everyone always said. Knowing Clancey had seen the vid sure added layers to this thing, as well. Finally I pressed him further, asking “And the second?” He was quiet for a while.

“I think you did the right thing.” he said firmly, echoing my own words from that night right back at me. So long ago, but it felt so fresh still. He continued “Sure, you played it up. Had some kind of sadistic fun with it…Put on a show. But, person in your situation, what else was you gonna do?”

“Sometimes…Down there…” I said, looking across the underworld once more “You gotta make an example of these kind of people. Show’em all they can’t get away with shit even if the cops are on their side.” He shook his head and replied “Don’t I fuckin’ know it.”

I shook his hand again, said he’d hear from me soon, and made my way back to the elevator. I was shaken, but determined to get to the bottom of all of it. Back inside, I went and flirted with the bartender again. Had another drink, chatted to a few of the less pretentious folk. But the vibe was off now. Couldn’t shake the feeling that something was deeply wrong.

Back on the ground, I quickly located a nice hotel. May as well treat myself. Spent another k-cred of the evening saps’ money. The rest of the evening was ostensibly lovely. Room service, jacuzzi tub, a few over priced drinks. But I couldn’t rid myself of the feeling that had crawled inside me as I discussed Clancey with my new friend Darius. I was going to have to nail the old man to the fucking wall before I could quell it.