Flux: Chapter 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 (Patreon)

Here's an early cover reveal for the second book in the series! Flux kinda reminds me of Raven if she was stuck in a post-apocalyptic cyberpunk world, except a bit less murderous and with more gamer brainrot.

Enjoy!

6: Flux

Flux’s world was at a standstill, her wings propelling herself toward the gun, a scream of pure defiance tearing itself from her throat. Flux crashed into his arm like a pint-sized avalanche, knocking the gun out of his grasp and making it skitter between the rails. Her momentum carried her out and over the bridge; Franklin caught himself on the parapet with one hand, and with the other made to grab her, but she was already zipping back around by then.

"Who the fuck—" Franklin began, but his voice was cut off by the electric whine of the keres' rifle charging up. In the same instant, the silhouette of the drone came into view far above, its rotor blades glinting silver against the dark bridges weaving through the sky.

Flux gave it no mind. Her focus was split on two threads; one noted Roen step toward Franklin with a manic - and distractingly hot - look on his face, and the other was zeroed in on the other guy standing from the suitcase.

She rushed in, then swerved, barely dodging a wild flash of the knife the man had produced from seemingly nowhere. Flux shot upward to give herself some space, but quickly changed her mind. Sniper chick - no good. Have to stay on the offensive.

"Muscle, get on the catch," the keres said through the cigarette smoking away between her lips, the drone about to pass above with an alarming speed. Suitcase-man swore, trying to track Flux in the dark even as she swept down once again. She couldn't risk another go at that sharp thing, so she adjusted her trajectory toward the others.

"Two, one..." she could see the keres' mouth silently count down, aiming, finger on the trigger. As Flux dove in with a vicious fist, the keres leaned to the side with a smooth jerk, going almost parallel with the ground while kneeling, making Flux miss by a hair's width.

A thunderous blast went off, splitting the dark of night with a blue flash and an arcing projectile hitting the drone above, making it tumble from the air like dead weight.

Quickly coming up at Franklin's hulking form, Flux decided that she didn't want Roen to step any closer to the man wiping at his bloody cheek. She made an abrupt zip left, then right, flying in a circle around Franklin that intercepted the path between the two men. "Don't you fucking touch him," she snarled, words lost in the high-speed rush of air.

"Argh! I got it, I got it," suitcase-man yelled, fumbling not to damage the drone's rotor blades. "Now get that fucking crybaby over here and start rigging this up."

The words shot another spike of anger through Flux. These thugs had no right insulting the man possessing more intellect that the whole of them combined. When she had first spotted Roen standing here, looking out from the darkness, she thought she had entered some gleeful nightmare. Her wings buzzed erratically. What was he doing here? Gods, why was her Roen here with these people at all?

Her distraction only lasted a second, but that was a second too long. Roen shot forward with a yell, and this time he got a handful of Franklin's shirt. Though smaller in stature, he managed to knock the air out of him, forcing a pained grunt.

As she flew toward them, Flux was aware of suitcase-man getting closer. She was aware of the keres slowly puffing on her cigarette and bringing her rifle around. And most of all, she was aware of the way Franklin's palms shoved outwards, those meaty hands launching Roen back with far too little care.

He flew back, the backs of his knees hitting the parapet. Force not stopping there, his upper body swung over the edge, legs folding backward. 

Without as much as a scream, Roen tumbled over the side of the bridge. 

Flux was empty - of emotions, of thoughts, of anything that may slow down her frantic flight after him. 

She shot above the edge, dove down into the void of the night, eyes spotting the falling body rapidly gaining on the factory walls beneath. She willed her wings to beat faster and gained on him, her hands searching in her pocket until she felt the glass surface against her fingertips. Falling upside down, Flux took out the vial, popped off the cork, poured the pixie-dust straight into her nose and breathed in, her brain hungrily eating up the substance and jolting the nerves at the speed of light. 

She felt her body expand, and with a poof, turned the size of a human. The ground rushing up at them and looming ever too close, she then tumbled, righted herself, and immediately wrapped her arms around Roen. 

"I've got you," she breathed, arresting their fall with little effort. She then shot forward, away into the night and away from all those who could hurt him.

7: Roen

Roen flew.

Shadowed rooftops passed below him, air rushing past his ear and his chest gripped tight by two slender arms that had arrested his fall. There was no room for fear in his adrenaline spiked mind, only a weightless sense of exaltation that painted the city a dream-like quality.

There was no sense of time and no means to track how long he sailed above the world, but soon enough, he could tell they were descending. The whistle of wind slowly fading out, he could make out the distant hum of traffic and a curious, buzzing sound from somewhere above him.

He braced, but the ground approached with deceptive softness as they touched down in a dimly lit side-street, the cracked asphalt beneath their feet still damp from the earlier rain. Roen stumbled the moment those arms released him, his legs taking him a few steps forward to arrest his momentum.

He braced himself against a graffiti-covered wall, his palm pressed against the rough bricks as he tried to catch his breath. A bark of laughter escaped his lips. It was a miracle, to be back on solid ground without an impact to shatter the bones.

"Hey, Ro– uh, dude, are you okay?" The voice was feminine, tinged with an inscrutable concoction of emotions that Roen couldn’t even begin to dissect. Haltingly intense.

Roen turned to face his rescuer. And stared. 

Standing before him was a young woman who would’ve been a perfect poster girl for an anti-corpo techpunk magazine. Her hair, a striking silver-blue, was styled up in a careless and all too boyish weave. She wore black on black, a simple blouse peeking from beneath a cropped hoodie that looked way too comfy on the arms to end so abruptly above the belly.

Oh. And she also had wings. The translucent and slender appendages of a pixie. He’d only seen a few of their kind - none that he ever talked with - but the trademark cuteness was on point.

"I, I'm fine," Roen managed to stammer out. He let go of the wall but paused, suddenly embarrassed to wipe his hand dry in his trousers. "Thanks."

He winced. Thanks? Was that all he could muster after being saved by the most miraculous stranger after the most unlikely series of events? But that was entirely the wrong line of thought, because reason began flooding back in his mind. His refusal to do his job. Hitting Franklin. Staring down the barrel of a gun.

Fuck. Oh, fuck. He had refused to complete the job.

“Yeeeeah, no biggy deal,” the pixie said, now her being the one to lean against the wall. Her hand slipped on the wet surface, making her stumble before she righted herself and braced her shoulder instead, as if that had been the plan all along. “Ehm. Yeah, no, I do this all the time. Fly across the city at night, I mean, not catching people. Awesome way to relax after a hard day of work. You do you du work?”

Roen blinked once. “Um. I’m sorry, what was that?” He tentatively wiped his palm behind his back.

A faint blush rose to her cheeks. “I mean, like, you work nearby, right? Maybe with those people on the bridge. Or without them, that’s also totally cool, it’s just that this part of the city gets reeeal empty so late into the evening.”

“Hah, not really,” Roen said with an awkward smile. “It’s uh, I don’t normally come here, but, yeah…” He glanced away from those eyes. They gleamed awfully bright against the dark backdrop. Gray, with a fleck of green. “Thank you, again. Seriously. If not for you I’d be smeared to ruin on some industrial roof or another.”

“Flux!” she said, stepping forward with haste and extending a petite hand. “I’m Flux, last- and surname. We pixies don’t really do the whole bloodline tracking stuff.  Our kind is one noisy family, pretty much.”

“Ah. Roen Travall,” he said, giving it a shake. Her touch was cold, colder than when she had wrapped her arms around him. The reminder tightened his stomach with nerves. He quickly let go and made his hands disappear in his pockets. “So, about all that back there,” he tried for a shrug, hoping, hoping that she hadn’t seen too much. “Me and the guys just had a bit of a disagreement. He wouldn’t have, you know… hurt me, or anything.”

Or so he assumed. Despite appearances, Franklin was not dumb enough to shoot the brother of his boss. And their technical guy besides.

Flux raised an eyebrow. "Right, just a little disagreement involving guns, courier drones, and you nearly becoming sidewalk art. Totally normal Friday night shenanigans."

Damn it. She had seen more than he'd hoped. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, trying to gather his thoughts. "It's, uh, complicated. Look, I appreciate what you did back there, but it's probably best if you forget everything you saw. For… for your own safety."

Flux’s eyes narrowed. She opened her mouth, then paused, her mind visibly changing tracks on the fly. "I don't mean to pry, but those guys didn’t seem to be fucking around. If they know where you live… Are you sure you're gonna be okay?"

The question hit Roen like a fist. Was he safe? He'd defied Arlo for the first time in… well, ever since it began. There would be consequences. Maybe. Possibly. He knew Arlo wouldn’t hurt him, despite everything. But his knowledge extended no further than that.

"I don't know," he admitted quietly.

Flux's expression softened. She took a step closer, close enough that Roen could see just the slightest hint of freckles under her eyes. "Hey, it's okay. Whatever you're mixed up in, there's always a way out. Trust me, I've seen some shit."

Roen found himself wanting to trust her, to spill everything. A ridiculous proposition, of course. She was a stranger, and he was all but a slave with nothing to his name. He held back a grimace and let the bitterness of life pass through him, as he’d always done. Through and away. "Thanks. I'll, um. I’ll figure something out."

He made to step away, but Flux's hand shot out, gently grasping his wrist. "Wait, wait. At least let me give you my number. In case you need help. Or, like, just someone to talk to."

Roen hesitated, then nodded. He reached for his phone - only to find his pocket empty. Shit. Datapad? Also gone. They must have fallen out during the scuffle on the bridge. Or during the flight. Didn’t really matter which.

"Sorry," he muttered. "Think I lost my phone."

Which also meant that he couldn’t order a ride back home, that he was lost in this part of town without net access, and most importantly, that he couldn’t call Arlo to assure him he was safe and whole. The entire ‘falling off the bridge’ performance had been witnessed by the whole crew. “I need to call… Fuck, to let him know that I…”

Flux bit her lip, seeming to wrestle with a decision. Her grip on his wrist remained tight. Roen shifted in place, getting uncomfortable with the prolonged contact, until finally she blurted out, "Why don't you crash at my place tonight? Just until you can sort things out in the morning. You can use my gear to let your friends know everything is fine and peachy."

Roen startled, taken aback by the offer. "I... that's very kind, but I couldn't impose like that." He considered a moment before adding. “And like I said, better if you remain uninvolved.”

"It's not an imposition," Flux insisted. "I've got a comfy couch and a bunch of paddies with enough encryption to make an LLL expert take the namesake. Plus, I make a mean breakfast cereal." 

“I don’t know.” And it was true. Roen couldn’t even begin to unwrap the events of the day. Once more, that dreamish tint fell over his perception and made him question whether he was really alive and not in some weird limbo of the afterworld. “I don’t know.”

“Hmph.” She let go of his wrist at last, folding her arms. The slightest twitch graced the corner of her lips. "Well I kiiinda just saved your life, so you basically owe me now."

Despite the gravity of his situation, Roen found his lips curl the same way. "Is that how it works?"

"Absolutely," Flux nodded. "It's in the official pixie handbook of life-saving etiquette. Page forty-two, right between 'proper wing maintenance' and 'why humans shouldn't eat glitter.'"

Roen hesitated, caught between fears and nerves and the fire that blocked them all out, still. He glanced down the dimly lit street, shadows dancing at the edges of his vision. The adrenaline was wearing off; that familiar feeling of hollow uncertainty slowly creeping back in.

Not fully, though, and not just yet. He felt brave enough to take one final leap tonight.

"Alright," he said, focusing on a blinking street light. "If it’s close and, um… You know. Really not an issue."

Flux's face lit up with a grin. "Awesome! My place isn't far. We can walk, or..." She trailed off, her wings fluttering slightly.

Roen's eyes widened as he realized what she was suggesting. "Oh, uh, no! I mean, I'm… I’m not sure about flying again. Not that it wasn't, ah, interesting, but–"

"No worries," Flux said quickly. "Walking's cool. Probably safer anyway, given how dark it’s gotten. Don't want to risk bumping into a chimney with a passenger."

They walked side by side, the air thick with the scent of rain-soaked pavement and a distant whiff of something fried from a nearby food stall. Roen stole glances at Flux, who seemed entirely unfazed by the night’s earlier chaos. She hummed a tune under her breath, her wings occasionally twitching as they moved.

Odd as it was to admit, her soft singing helped him immensely. Walking the quiet streets not by himself, but with someone… These were the moments Roen dreaded the most. The regular beats of life that demand to be filled with something.

When there's a goal, a destination your conversation is supposed to land at – it's easier to focus and power through and turn the part of your brain off that worries. You know when to speak, what to say, and how the pieces arrange themselves within the rules of the game. But small talk? Small talk was paralyzing.

“So,” Flux began, breaking the silence as they crossed an intersection, “I was reading this article about how they’re planning to release a new line of smart fridges. I mean, what even is that? Like, a fridge that tells you when your milk is expired? Do we really need a fridge to nag us now?”

Roen raised an eyebrow, unsure if he should contribute or just nod along. He opted for the latter.

“I mean, who wants to hear from their appliances? It’s bad enough we’ve got notifications pinging every two seconds on our paddies,” she continued, wings twitching as she spoke. “And what’s next? A toaster that reminds you to check your cholesterol? What if I’m in the middle of making brekky and it decides to be all ‘Ayo, dude! Maybe skip the bagel today!’ Like... shut up, toaster!”

He glanced sideways at her. Did she actually care about smart appliances? 

Was this… a serious conversation?

“Like, right?” she stopped for a moment to adjust the sleeve of her hoodie before hopping forward to keep up with him. “I just don’t get why everything needs to be ‘smart’ these days. Y'know what I want? A dumb fridge that keeps my food cold and doesn’t fuggin judge me for having leftovers from two days ago.”

He was too overwhelmed with… everything, to really put his mind to good use. “Uh... yeah. I think I agree.” 

He absently noted the increased presence of neon storefront signs as they made their way back to a livelier district. Smoke wafted up from the industrial fans below the sidewalk.

“And those fitness trackers!” Flux's wings actually made her hover a few steps as they went overdrive for a second. “They’re basically little guilt trip machines. ‘Oi fucker! You’ve only walked approx two-hundred eleven point oh-three steps today!’ Like, thanks for the reminder, ommfie. I’ll get right on that after I finish binge-watching my favorite series and eating pizza rolls.”

She paused and glanced at him. He glanced right back, then immediately looked away.

Hells. She was cute.

"Um… oh, so what series do you watch?"

She was cute, and she was easy to talk to.

Which was like an unstoppable force versus an immovable object; an impossibility. Which in turn meant she was probably rambling for his sake and putting up a front. Did she hate him for not being more forward? Should he have maintained more eye contact – girls liked an air of confidence, right?

Roen really, really hoped they reached her home before his surge of adrenaline-fueled confidence faded away entirely.

The entrance of Flux's apartment building was a nondescript concrete structure in a west-central residential block with a riot of overhanging bulb lights bathing the sidewalk in an electric hue.

Flux led Roen into the lobby after unlocking the glass door with a quick datapad scan. The air was filled with the scent of aged wood and something vaguely citrusy from a small potted plant near the staircase.

Flux pressed the elevator button with the flat of her wrist, and the doors slid open with a soft chime. The place looked modern, but pretty ordinary otherwise. A single line of faded graffiti decorated the steel back of the elevator.

"Top floor," Flux said, pressing the button marked '37.'

The elevator doors pulled shut and the mechanism creaked slightly as it started its ascent with a gentle vibration beneath their feet. Otherwise, the silence was oppressing.

Roen stole a glance at Flux, who stared intently at the floor numbers as they flickered by. A wing fluttered. She started chewing on her lips.

If he knew better, he would have assumed the pixie was a tad nervous.

8: Flux

Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit!

Flux practically screamed inside as she watched the elevator slowly count up like a reverse executioner's axe. It took physical effort to keep her wings from going haywire, and if she stopped for a moment to think, to really think about what was going on — she would have probably fainted on the spot.

He looks so good and I'm sharing a space with Him and we're breathing the same air and holy FUCK He's gonna see my apartment and it smells so fuggin good in here and fuck he’s so cute and—

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open with a slow hiss. She stepped out first, did a little stomp on the ground to reassert her confidence, then gestured for him to follow. Each second toward her apartment felt like an uphill battle against gravity itself.

Oh shit, oh fuck. My room is a mess! Why didn’t I clean up before He came over?

She hadn’t expected it, that’s why.

Her thoughts darkened as she recalled the rest of the night and the whole reason she had been following that Franklin guy. Out there, watching from the darkness above the elevated tracks, her Roen appearing was the last thing she was prepared for. Then everything just escalated, from disrupting courier drones to the casual appearance of a sniper rifle… Flux’s criminal activity radar was through the roof.

But no. No, she had to slow down. One thing at a time.

Stopping before door 3703, Flux once again got her datapad out and held it against the sensor. It’s probably been a week since she last used the main entrance.

The door slid open, revealing a room that looked way too cluttered all of a sudden. The small kitchen-living room combo was mostly occupied by the couch hooked up to be the perfect net rat's nest, pillows and chips crumbs included. Further in, the door to her bedroom was closed, thankfully.

Flux spun around and cocked a hip. "Yeah, so this is—" She cringed when she noticed a red stain - ketchup? - on the wall by the entrance. "Aaaa, this right here is my current digs."

Fucking digs? Who the hell talks like that?

Flux quickly hopped out of the way and, just totally by coincidence, leaned with her palm against the blob of accidental decor.

Roen stepped inside. The moment he crossed the threshold and passed her nonchalant and very cool stance, the faint scent of his human odor hit her.

Ahnnnngh… Hh… Hhhh-uh?

It took a few bits and bytes for Flux's brain to unencrypt from ahegao language.

Same came back to reality to see Roen glancing around at the cluttered space. He scratched at his elbow. “Looks cozy.”

“Yeah, right?” Flux smirked, looking past him toward the window sill where she had – holy fuck, was that a sports bra?!

She needed to sanitize this place with a flamethrower. And she needed to do it yesterday.

Flux busied herself with the clutter, picking up a half-empty soda can and tossing it into the nearby recycling bin. "You know, I really ought to clean more often." Her voice sounded way too chipper even to her own ears.

What if he hates it? What if he thinks I’m a total loser? Ugh! Why did I let him come here? I could’ve suggested calling him a taxi or something. That would’ve been normal. Instead, here we are in my junk cave, and he’s probably thinking I'm some greasy gobbo egirl!

Roen moved further inside, stepping over a pile of old routers that had seen better days. She held her breath, half expecting him to trip and fall into the pizza box graveyard she’d created over the past week.

“Cozy,” he said again, and he did sound earnest. Maybe. Probably. Hopefully.

“I don't do empty and sterile. That's, that's upper glade shit,” she said, playing with the long sleeve of her hoodie. “I mean, you don’t want to look like you’re trying too hard. Who wants a perfectly organized space anyway? That’s just... that's so boring.”

Her thoughts spiraled again as she glanced toward her bedroom door. What if he opened it? What if there was something in there that would make him think she was insane? The last thing she needed was for Roen to somehow find out she'd been stalking him for nonzero years now.

He was looking over a poster by the window about some concert snap she had used for the general vibe. Anti-glade weaponry. Cheap paper is a big no-no in high bitch society.

Flux couldn’t hold still. She moved to adjust the pillows on the couch for no reason at all, then suddenly felt ridiculous standing there with them in her arms.

“Want some water?” she blurted out.

“Um, sure. Water sounds good.”

He shifted in place.

Flux turned toward her bedroom. “I’ll go grab a bottle for you.” She was halfway across the room before she even finished the sentence, and she used a burst of her wings to propel her the rest of the way. "Make yourself at hooome!"

A shove, a twirl, and the door shut between her and the object of her madness.

“Fuh!”

Air burst from her lungs in a great heave, then another. She began to pace. She stopped and ran a hand through her spiky hair.  Though her drumming heartbeat began to slow, it was still strong enough to rouse the neighborhood. She resumed her pacing.

Okay. Okay okay okay. Mental reset.

He’s here. In your place. In your place! He’s probably tired and distraught and barely holding himself together after plummeting from that bridge. So he needs… calm. Comfort. A place to get himself together. Okay? You can provide that, girl. Just don’t overthink it.

Her room was a bit more organized than the outside, on account of her snacking habits being a kitchen-type localization issue. The bed lay unmade, a set of blue-and-pink thigh highs strewn haphazardly across the floor. She muttered under her breath.

“Yup. So, water.”

She rummaged through the small LED fridge, ignoring the two rows of Human energy drinks and grabbing a clear bottle from the bottom shelf.

She returned to the living room and saw the back of Roen’s head peeking out from behind the couch. He had settled within her pillow fortress, and she walked around to see him looking at a mess of datapads sprawled across the table between him and the wall-mounted TV. He shifted back when he noticed her.

“Um, I was just looking,” he said, eyes down and back at the paddies. “Do you collect them?”

“Yeah, kind of.” She handed him the bottle. When he didn’t take it – he’s not looking at you, dummy! – she placed it at the edge of the table. “Less for the hardware and more for the OS variety to test shit.”

“Huh.”

It broke a piece of Flux’s heart to see Roen move on from that without a word. She knew he loved anything tech related, and this was a perfect setup to slide into her theoretical dms.

He was like a cute little kitten too skittish to try anything. 

It only strengthened her resolve to make him feel safe here. Even if it took a lifetime.

Roen picked up the bottle, unscrewed the cap, and took a long drink. Flux watched the cool water slide down his throat intently. It made her bite her lips. It made her blush. It made her head buzz with a hundred different thoughts that really did not help in the present situation.

She spun away and began rummaging through a nearby shelf. Sheets, a clean pillow, and a nice fluffy blankie with yellow stripes. She even slapped one of her oversized tees on top, just in hopes of him changing and accidentally leaving his own shirt in her apartment.

Oh, the things she would do with that heavenly relic.

“It’s getting pretty late sooo yeah, here’s your eepy stuff. Don’t be shy to kick the couch free of my junk – I need to tidy up the room anyway." She pointed at the door next to her bedroom after she handed the bedsheets over. “Bathroom’s on the right. There’s some clean toothbrush in the cupboard beside the mirror that you can use. It’s, heh, still in the packaging, so you’ll know I’m not a liar who would want you to use her toothbrushes because that’s like something a complete weirdo would do, and… and, haha…”

She needed to stop talking. Like, right now.

“Nighty-night!” she chirped before high tailing it back to her room. Her confident, hip-swinging strut turned into a desperate dash around the end. She risked a glance over her shoulder. Their eyes met for a fraction of a second before the door clicked shut.

Ohmygod. I did it. I fucking did it!

Flux was in literal heaven. She had done the thing she both yearned and dreaded for so long now; to finally talk to the boy she’d been crushing on. All the drawings she had mapped out in her head about things that might be, watching from afar from the shaded café balcony… nothing compared to the real thing.

But more – she wanted so much more, too. She wanted to hug him and laugh with him, and to make him laugh. To pamper him. To shove her obsessive existence in his face until he couldn’t ignore it.

But first – she needed a fucking victory lap.

Flux flopped onto her bed, the sheets tangled beneath her. She kicked off her sneakers and tossed her mismatched hoodie off to a random corner of the room to let her thin blouse breathe – hnng, so much better – then grabbed her laptop from the cluttered nightstand.

She booted it up and rolled onto her stomach, the screen illuminating her darkened room. With a few taps on the touchpad – she only bothered with a mouse while gaming – she pulled up Korella’s contact in the vid app.

“Come on, pick up,” she muttered, drumming her fingers against the edge of the bed.

The call rang out for a good minute, enough to make Flux sink into the cozy warmth of her bed, her feet flailing back and forth behind her.

The screen lit up with the swirling animation of the connected call and revealed her bestie's room in its full dark-violet glory. Large enough to host a small club, the place was a flat expanse of everything you wanted in a house in a single-room package. Little alleys of free space separated the sections that regular homes typically kept walled off, and Flux could see the oaken study table, the middle island of wardrobes and shoe racks, and the neon-lined jacuzzi in the same frame.

As for Korella — the neo-gothie centaur was sitting in front of her table while running an electric brush through her black mane still wet from a recent shower. She had traded her usual spiked corset and full-body centaur skirt for a white sweater and nothing but bare fur below the waist, cloven feet demurely folded.

“Heyo, Flux. Don't tell me you're also looking to stay up until the midnight patch drops. I've been having way too many guildies asking me to help them grind.”

Flux was confused for a moment. "Wait, what patch?"

"Uuuh, Path of Reptile nine-point-two? Endgame wipe, six new evolutions, ding ding ding!"

Oh. Flux had totally forgotten about that. She bit her lips for a moment, alt-tabbing from the vid app and checking her Vapor account to see the — yep, pending update available to preload.

She really, really could now give less of a frick right now.

Tabbing back to Korella, Flux leaned forward, her wings gently buzzing on their own. She couldn’t help but grin. “Yeah, nah. I’m kinda busy at the moment,” she replied. She didn't say more — just stupidly kept grinning at her friend.

Korella raised an eyebrow — the one crowned with swirly silver piercings above it. “Contrary to popular belief, nightbug, I do not want to know about your dildo related discoveries. Even if it is the dragon type.”

Flux rolled her eyes at Korella’s comment. She pulled the blanket up to her chin and took it between her teeth, chewing. The tension in her chest twisted tighter. But it was a good kind of twisting.

“Not that kind of busy,” she said. “It's, just… I did it!"

Noticing her giddy energy, Korella paused mid-brushing and looked closer at her monitor, at Flux. "Did what?"

"I, I talked to him. Him, Korella. Roen. We met and we talked and now he knows that I exiiiiiist!" The last bit Flux practically squealed into her blanket. "And we fuggin hit it off, and now he's here in my apartment and he's so adorkable and he thinks my den is kinda cozy so I think he's gonna get some quality snooze out there!"

"Woah woah, girl, slow down," Korella startled. She used her front hooves to scoot a bit closer to her setup, clicking her hairbrush off and putting it down. "You… actually got your courage juices going and, after two long years, took the plunge tonight?"

Flux winced. "That wording might be a bit too accurate… but anyway, yes."

Flux’s heart raced as she watched her friend refold her hooves. Then Korella’s expression shifted from skepticism to a full-blown smile. "Finally! I was starting to think I'd have to tie you on my back and gallop his way to deliver that crush-crush experience. Duuude, fuck that's awesome."

Flux happily kicked her legs. "Yup." She really tried not to sound too smug. "Yup-yup. A cool and badass chick who ain't afraid to take the initiative — that's me."

“Okay, okay, but did you actually talk or just squeak at each other like two nervous birds?”

Flux snorted, then sheepishly glanced at the door and snorted a bit more quietly. “We talked. I mean, I blabbered like a lunatic, but it was like an actual convo and shit.”

“Deee-tails, girl.” Korella urged. “Now.”

With a sigh, Flux grabbed one of her pillows from the side and propped it under her chin. And then, over the next hour, she told Korella how a seemingly harmless scouting trip tailing that asshole Franklin turned into the greatest superhero romcom that had ever been uploaded onto Sirrej's vid archive. From Roen's heroic stand — holy shit, he looked so hot defying that thug — to her literally saving his life…

It was perfect. She could not have hoped for a better start. Now, she just needed to not fuck it up.

Once she'd heard everything, Korella pointed out the giant issue in the whole equation, too. "Are you gonna report this to NullCorp?"

The question was like a bucket of ice water dumped right in her neck. That was the crux of it all, wasn't it? 

Flux was laying on her back now, feet propped up against the wall and the weight of Korella’s question pressing down on her. She felt a knot tighten in her stomach. Reporting Roen to NullCorp was out of the question. The mere thought made her skin crawl.

“No way,” she replied, shaking her head. “I mean, it’s not like that. I just... I can’t.”

Korella's voice was cautious, uncertain. “You can’t? Or you won’t? It’s an important distinction to make, girl. It’s him, and... If he’s in trouble and you can help...”

“Help,” Flux interrupted with a dangerous edge. “Siccing the NC on the whole lot of them would get him in even more trouble than he is right now. Not to mention, sec-corps don’t get off their asses unless there’s a hefty credcard slid along with the report.”

“We both know you can get the money, Flux. You’ve got family in high places, and so do I.”

“No. No, that’s out of the question – NC, the blues, none of them will hear a peep from me until I find out more about the fuckery that Roen is involved in.”

Silence from Flux’s laptop.

Then, “Okay.”

“Okay?” Flux muttered.

“I’m with you all the way, girl,” Korella said. "What do you need me to do?"

9: Roen

Morning crept up slowly and with odd fluffy warmth on Roen. He blinked awake, the dim light filtering through the blinds casting soft patterns on the wall. A wall that was a light blue shade and dotted with posters. A wall that decidedly not his own and was not even remotely familiar.

Wait a moment…

Roen lay on the couch, frozen as yesterday's events caught up with him like a nightmarish reel whirring up. Except this was so, so much worse. Because he really did fuck up the job. He really did almost break his neck. And he really did end up going to a cute girl's apartment for the first time in his life.

In the span of a single night, he managed to live more than he had his entire life.

Now, he wanted nothing more than to run and burrow back into his hole.

Roen couldn't move. He just couldn't, even if he knew that the panic only existed in his mind – the knowledge itself didn't help. His body was locked up below the covers. He'd have to wake up and talk to Flux. He would have to do a bunch of everyday things that other people seemed to handle with zero effort. Chewing food. Walking normally. Doing something with their hands in a way that didn't seem weird. Simple things that he was too defective to just... flow with.

Minutes passed, and though his anxiety remained – always, it remained – he managed to regain control of his body. He adjusted the pillow under his head. The thought of leaving before Flux woke up passed his mind. It was tempting, but he already hated himself plenty enough without adding the label 'rude asshole' on top of everything else. Plus, inaction was always just so much easier.

A soft buzzing broke through the lazy morning sounds of the cityscape. Roen went very still, pretending to sleep. It was coming from his host's room.

He heard the door creak open, the buzzing coming closer, and then…

"Uuuuumygod!"

It wasn't particularly loud, but the high pitched voice was well above anything a human could produce. Too curious to resist, Roen squinted an eye open just in time to see Flux — a miniature, barely ten inch tall Flux — disappear beyond the couch as she darted back inside her room.

Even with her tiny physique, morning bedhead and her baggy pajamas, she looked more stylish than any of his past mates in school and uni put together.

Roen didn't know how to take any of that.

Is she upset? Damn it, she probably just remembered how she picked up a stray the previous night and let him crash in her house. She wants me gone, probably. Too polite to say that, probably. I would want me gone in her place.

A minute passed in silence before he heard her emerge once more; footsteps, instead of flapping wings this time. His eyes closed, Roen could sense her linger near the couch for a moment, muttering something like "He's so fuggin…" before she moved deeper into the kitchen area.

The following clanks of silverware were soft and careful, but even so, Roen couldn't justify pretending to sleep through that. The opportunity to flee had passed, and he had to wake up sometime.

He shifted below the covers before propping himself up against the wall of the pillow fort. Flux was back to her human size and in the process of stabbing a hole through a carton of milk with a kitchen knife. Two bowls were already prepared on the table by the couch — which seemed to have been cleaned free of any remnants of dust or datapads.

"Hiya, sleepyhead!" Flux grinned at him from above the milk, doing the stabby-stab.

Roen cleared his throat. "Good morning," he said. After some hesitation, he removed his blanket and sat up with his feet on the floor. He felt oddly vulnerable to be seen in bed by a stranger. Well, almost stranger.

He carefully folded the blanket on one arm. "Um…" he began, holding up the bundle with a question he wasn't sure how to phrase.

"Oh, just throw it wherever," Flux said, catching some drops of milk dribbling down the side of the carton. She stuck the wet finger in her mouth, and, seeing Roen's indecision, pointed another down at the foot of the table. "Wight thee shouw be goo’."

Flux settled cross-legged at the table, bringing over the milk and a box of chocolate granola, along with two spoons that she noisily dropped in their respective bowls. There was an intimidating amount of morning energy stuffed within the pixie.

"Soooo, CrompyFitness is supposed to be one of those healthy alts to cereal, but let's not fool ourselves, they probably thicken the mixture with sawdust and rad sweeteners." She ripped the box open, the plastic bag hidden inside, and filled both bowls with the sugary flakes. "I still like to imagine it's the lesser evil. Once, I had an egg-and-bacon streak for a week straight – and that's a week of my life I'll forever mourn. Time isn't money. One is finite, the other's not."

Roen watched her busy herself from the edge of the couch. He whispered a silent 'thank you' when she nudged a bowl his way.

"Lemme guess – you're aaaa…" Flux said, squinting at him. She tapped her spoon against her cheek. Spat. Spat. "A toast kinda guy! A happy middle ground, hm? Low effort, not too fucky on the stomach if it's wholewheat, and gives that yummy crunch-crunch with each bite."

Roen smiled down at his bowl sheepishly. "I don't usually eat breakfast." He took the milk and doused his meal just the right amount.

"Oh!" Flux froze above a wayward spoonful traveling toward her open mouth. "Uuuuuh…" A pix caught in the headlights.

"No, I didn't mean it like—" Roen startled, waving a hand in alarm. "I don't mind! I like trying out new things." That was probably the last thing he liked doing. "I mean, I would like to try this. Never had this brand before. And I'm usually too drowsy to be hungry in the mornings, and that's not… really… um, the case. R-right now." He trailed off toward the end.

Damn it. Why is it that he delivered a lie with perfect clarity, and then started stuttering like an idiot when he switched to the truth.

A slight flush colored Flux's face as she contemplated her portion for a moment, then shoved it home in its destination. "'Ey, don wooy awoud id," she slurred between great chomps. She swallowed. "Eat it or leave it. I'm like, the last person that gets pissy about table side etiquette. I used to create imaginary dart boards in my head and play target practice on the wall with lil' fry missiles."

Why was she being so nice? She was giving him an out. Which made him want to not look ungrateful that much more.

Roen silently ate, making an effort to push through his nerves, and it got somewhat easier after a minute. The beginning was always the most daunting step. He stole glances at Flux, who sat cross-legged on her carpet, leaning forward with one elbow resting on the table, seemingly lost in her own world as she munched away. Even now, her spiky white hair looked artfully tousled with the blue tints streaked through it. She had changed into a purple hoodie and a pair of black sporty sweatpants.

Somehow, some way, she ended up with a smudge of chocolate on her cheek, which she wiped off with the back of her hand before stuffing the spoon back into her mouth. The sight made Roen smile despite himself. He looked down and stared into his empty bowl before taking a deep breath. “Um. Do you know what time it is?” 

Flux squinted at the sunlight filtering through the window, then stretched her hands above her head, making her short hoodie ride up to display a tantalizing amount of pale tummy. “Uhh, gimme a sec.” She pushed herself up with a boost from her wings and stumbled across the obstacle course that was her apartment. Soft morning light flooded the room as she pulled up the blinds, but it took until she found one of her datapads to give an answer. "Seven twenty in the morning. It's also a Saturday, so the average human wokege should be about three hours from now."

Roen leaned back against the couch, running a hand through his disheveled hair. Alright. Alright, seven. That shouldn't be too bad. Arlo usually slept until at least nine — on the rare days that he spent home — so Roen should have enough time to contact him before he gets flooded by reports of… of whatever the team would cook up after seeing him take that dive.

Speaking of; what was he even going to say?

Something must've shown on his face, because Flux's voice softened. "I know it's not my business, back with — with whatever was happening yesterday. But… Do you wanna talk about it?"

Yes.

"No." Somehow, through impossible effort, he managed to meet her gaze for a second. "You saved my life and… Thank you. Thank you. But getting you mixed up with that crew would be the opposite of repaying the debt."

Flux scoffed. "Oh, you have no idea about all the shit I'm already mixed up with, oomfie."

"Still."

The cute pixie was way too nice for him to drag into the crosshairs of his brother's ambitions.

He glanced at the datapad in Flux's fidgeting hands. "I'll need to, um, let my brother know I'm okay." He shifted on the couch. "I just… I'm not sure how to…"

"How to tell him that you miraculously survived a fatal fall without explicitly dropping the name of the awesome pix who bridal carried you to safety?" Her voice was half teasing, half exasperated.

Roen would have preferred she take this more seriously.

"Yes. That."

"Wellll…" she began, knocking down a few pillows from the edge of the couch to plant her butt in their place — to Roen's great discomfort. "It was dark, I was in my small-form, and I fucking blurred and zapped about the place. Even if you tell him that, yes, a pixie did catch you and let you crash at her place, none of those peeps would recognize me."

"They know that a pixie with white hair was witness to…" he glanced away. "To something illegal." Even just the possession of guns alone would land the owners several years in prison.

"Nu-uh. A pixie with bright hair. Like I said, it was dark, and hummie eyesight is really not that impressive." She shrugged. "I have, like, a hundred cousins and distant relatives up in the Glade with blonde or plat cuts."

"What about Da—" Roen began, then bit his tongue. Idiot. Giving over her name would be a near death sentence. "What about the keres? Death spirit, vampires and all… night vision fits with the theme."

"Night vision usually comes in some form of monochromatic display. And I highly doubt the chicka was focusing on me, with that drone coming in hot." She gave him a little finger gun. "But ey, I'll look up their racial quirks just to be safe, so don't you worry your smarty-smarts head about me. I'm all good."

He ran his restless hands across the soft padding of the couch. "I'm, I'm sorry. I just… I…"

He was here, talking with a girl who didn't seem to hate him or feel awkward around him even after his tongue kept stumbling with every third sentence — and now she might be in serious trouble if any of the guys decide to look into it. And even that didn't seem to scare her.

That, or she was just a really good actor.

Fuck she — she wouldn't just report me to the authorities… would she?

Roen thought of all the people his explosives had probably killed by now. Maybe it would be better if she went to the blues. He certainly deserved it.

"You can thank me by promising to keep away from high places, 'kay?" Flux said. She passed her datapad to him. "Now, I'm not sure which socio-app you use, so I DL'd all the popular ones. Just login and tap away." She stood with a wing-fueled hop. "I'll take care of the dishes in the meantime."

Roen scrolled past a few screens before he found the black-and-white icon of the business enviro Arlo typically favored. Mail in, password in, then check the little box that signs away your privacy rights with a flick of the finger. It made little difference to him.

Tapping on Arlo's name in the otherwise empty contact's list, Roen paused before he began writing.

"I'm fine. An imp saw us setting up the gear and made a bit of a mess. The others saw me fall, but the imp caught me in time and dropped me off farther in the industrial district. He was nice. Please don't be angry. I'm writing from a bus stop — an urk gentleman is letting me use his datapad and bought me a ticket. I'll be home soon.

Sorry for yesterday."

Roen looked at the message, double and triple reading it. He let some of his anxiety evaporate with each scan. Flux might've been okay with her version of the story — the real version of the story — but Roen would make sure to create as large a gap between his criminal life and the kind pixie as possible. An imp seemed feasible enough. The small devils already had a reputation for sticking their noses into places where nobody wanted them.

Roen pressed send, and the message vanished into the invisible currents of the net. It felt like an overdue liberation. However Arlo would respond, Roen was safe in the knowledge that, for maybe once in his life, he had done everything right.

No more killing. Not today, and not ever again.

Flux was bustling about in the small kitchen area, having done more than just cleaning the evidence of their breakfast. Roen noticed that a good fifty percent of her haphazard laundry had gone missing, and the floor was mostly clear of wires and pillows. The minty smell of air freshener assisted the open window's attempts at ventilating the place.

As he watched her rinsing out the bowls, his eyes took in the double-pair of her bluish wings and the vertical holes of her hoodie they snuck through. That must've been a pain to deal with every morning. Lower, her sweatpants fit snugly around a trim butt that might've been small, but was definitely not in the shapeless category.

Roen flinched away like a zap of electricity. Wow. Okay. Don't ogle the cute hostess, idiot.

"H-hey," he said, breaking the quiet. He immediately regretted it, but it was too late; her attention was on him already.

She looked over her shoulder, placing one bowl in the drying rack. "Yeah?"

"Do you, um, do you have a map on this thing?" He asked.

She squinted her eyes at the datapad in Roen's hands. "Uuuuh not on that one, I don't think. But you can always just use the net browser — I have Ducky installed under the 'elif bored == True:' folder."

Many long seconds and two popups of location-tracking later, Roen was surprised to see the drone-shot overlay of a particular part of downtown Sirrej appearing on the page. "Hey, that's like… we're pretty close to where I live."

It really was. Flux's apartment just so happened to be located smack dab in the middle of the triangle drawn by the Travall family house, the Derilect-Helix Co-Opt University, and Vinny's café.

Huh. Talk about coincidences.

"Ah!"

Clinking came from Flux's direction as something slipped and nearly met a tragic end on the floor before she caught it mid-air. She held the plate in front of her stomach like a shield between the two of them. "That's some crazy luck. Right? Haha," she grinned. One of her eyes twitched.

Roen swiped through the map and toward the greener blocks. "I mean it's a megacity we're talking about, so the walk is going to take a good hour still, but… But that's great!"

He smiled with relief at Flux. He might even get home before Arlo wakes and break the news to his brother face to face — assuming Roen gets lucky enough to catch him at home.

"I can mmmghh, eee…" Flux's words deteriorated into slurred jumble during the middle, her face flushing to a point where she really did start to resemble an imp. She looked away sharply, and one side of her wings began flapping to…

To fan her face?

Roen wasn't sure what to say about that — but if there was one thing he understood, it was the choking dread that came from a difficulty with speech. A wave of emotion swept through him, and he had to avert his eyes. In that moment he empathized so, so much. Even if he knew he was too broken to express it.

But unlike him, it only took the pixie a split second to get back in the game. "I'll get ya a bus ride!" she said, already zipping over to her bag in one corner of the room. "No human gets to leave today without the premium Flux experience."

"You don't have to, you've already—"

"Already made your life easier, yes," she triumphantly raised a crinkly bill in the air. "Now you can return the favor — with scuttling home as fast as possible. The less your friends worry about you, the smaller the chance they start looking for me."

Roen opened his mouth, then closed it. She had a point. With him being supposedly dead, every minute could make a difference.

"Yeah. Yeah, you're right," he said. He logged out of the messenger and gingerly placed the datapad on the low table. He then stood, shot a wistful look at the bathroom but decided it could wait until he got home, and took the bill Flux offered.

He could've felt awkward about something cliché like their hands touching, but he was focusing too much on avoiding eye contact than anything else. "Thank you. So much. Not just… um. You know. For everything," he said with a small voice. At least the floor didn't judge him.

"Hey. Hey," he startled when a small fist nudged his shoulder. She had that lopsided smile on her face — as if she was the sole architect of a secret, and smug about it. "Everything will be okay. It might not seem like it now, but… I dunno. I have this feeling that both of us have exactly what we need juuust in reach. Who knows, you could wake up one day and find the snowstorm outside was glitter all along."

"Maybe." He tried to match her expression. It was surprisingly easy. "I could really use some glitter now."

Flux scoffed playfully. "Uhuh. Everyone needs some fuggin glitter in their lives."

When Roen left the apartment of one angelic pixie, he did so with a weightless feeling that almost felt like walking through a dream. Confidence was a learned thing, Arlo always used to say, and Roen was good at learning. And yet, it was the first time he could remember feeling good about the footprints he left behind in the mind of someone else. An impression he made that, even with all the hiccups, he was proud of.

It could've been just in his head, but it didn't matter. Flux made him feel — functional. Maybe just barely so. But functional nonetheless.

Only after he boarded the bus did he realize he should've asked for her number. He probably wouldn't have had the courage to do so. But he wanted to believe otherwise.

***

Oh my god, I totally forgot to ask for his number.

Flux bodily dove into her couch and banged her head against a pillow. Fuck! It was the perfect opportunity to officially get his contact, on account of a concerned citizen having the ability to check up on a guy in trouble. It would have been so organic.

The only thing that soothed her existential agony was the smell of him that had embedded itself inside her gaming nest. She took a deep breath until her lungs could take no more, held it for a second longer, and then let it out with a big 'mwah' smooching sound. She liked to imagine little pink hearts appeared above the apartment building like those ancient smoke signals communicating between cities. Only, hers would be saying 'My heart is conquered! DO NOT SEND HELP!'.

Aah. She was already missing him.

The idea of just keeping him locked in her apartment to keep him safe had crossed her mind, but unfortunately even if she did manage to convince him, it would not be a viable endgame strategy. It would take a single missing person’s report for the blues to scan their street cams and see him walking to her place.

There was a crisis, but not an immediate one. According to her observations yesterday, Roen had been press-ganged into that crime group for a while now — and assuming his brother was not a heartless monster capable of hurting his own flesh and blood, not much would change on that front. No, her hummie appeared to be more anxious about talking to a girl — yup, this awesome pix right here — than he was worried about any sort of fallout with those people. This was an issue she'd have time to tackle.

An issue they'd have time to tackle. Together. Once Flux successfully managed to worm her way into his life.

Flux let out a sigh, flopping her head toward the table. She reached arm out lazily and grabbed the datapad Roen had borrowed. With a downward swipe on the home screen and a simultaneous press of the volume up button, she brought up the console.

The input logger blinked with a heat-map of the virtual keyboard Roen had used to log into his account.

Nice. Roen, dear, cutie pie — please be one of those guys who uses that same one password for literally everything.

Flux grabbed a piece of paper and wrote down the letter-and-number combo, then stood and marched inside the bathroom to stash it in her hidden place. Password managers, authenticators and all that junk ranged from bad to mmkay, but nothing beat the good old protection of calligraphy. You can't decrypt the walls, bitches.

Flux hummed herself a happy song as she turned to the mirror. The pixie looking back at her was one that had her shit together, that had grown from being some weird stalker to a respectable and independent woman. Yup. Independent, as in dependent on him. She posed in front of her reflection, feeling very empowered.

Her eyes trailed down, spotting the neatly placed torn wrapping on the sink and the green toothbrush Roen had used last night.

Well, hello there.

Flux bit her lips.

I have some very interesting plans for you.

10: Roen

Arlo’s silver car was already parked in the driveway.

The air was frigid with an early summer breeze blowing past, quaking the verdant leaves of surrounding trees that lined the sidewalks like watchful soldiers. Windows of quiet houses looked out toward a similarly quiet road that maybe, just on the off chance, accompanied the lonely driver passing the neighborhood.

That’s how it felt like to Roen, sometimes. A retirement home, a hidden pocket to shield him from the constant movement of the megacity. Today, of all days, this peace was like a punch in the gut.

As if nothing at all had changed.

Security was disabled with the remotely controlled cams pointing straight down. The cellular scanner next to the door lay a dormant gray, and the front door opened without resistance. A pair of black dress shoes occupied the little rug in the foyer.

Roen walked down the sunlit hallway with soft steps. He ignored the open archway leading into the kitchen — gaping as empty as he'd left it — and, passing a set of old family pictures hanging next to the opening down into the basement, emerged into the spacious living room.

"Hey," Roen said, freezing. He swallowed. "Arlo, I'm so, so sorr—"

His brother's arms gripped him in a crushing hug, squeezing the air out of his lungs. "Thank God you're okay," he breathed.

Roen remained very still, eyes wide. His arms hung limp at his side even as Arlo kept him close, closer than he could remember anyone come to him since Father left.

Arlo gripped one of his shoulders, parting to look at him. Roen only caught a flash of his reddened eyes before he focused on the curtains behind. "We thought…" Arlo began. He gave his shoulder another grasp. "But there was no body to find, they said. Too dark and too high up to see all the way below."

Roen traced the sunlit pattern on the beige curtain, its glow cast by the nearby vase. "When did you find out?" He wanted to smile in an attempt to reduce the weight of the moment. The expression failed to form on his face. "I was hoping to arrive before…" Before he did something rash. "…before you got worried over nothing."

Roen drew back slightly, and Arlo let go after a moment. "Did you, um. Did you get my message?"

"I did. Good thing, too, because I was about to tell Malcolm to file an anonymous notice to the police. Understand, Roen; the boys swept the nearby factories for you the entire night. Only when they found nothing did Franklin ring me." Arlo fumbled to pull back the ruffled sleeve of his suit, checking his watch. "Your alert came in fifty-four minutes after. The longest fifty-four minutes of my life."

A hint of accusation crept into his tone. "Couldn't you have — why did you wait so long, Roen? Where did you even spend the night?"

With the kindest, most wonderful girl I have ever met.

"I'm not… entirely sure. I guess imps aren't very generous with their magic, and the bus stop was empty for most of the evening. I only managed to get help at the start of the morning rush."

Arlo shook his head. "I'm surprised the imp didn't drop you like an anvil mid-flight. Fucking scum, all their kind."

Strangely, Roen had an urge to defend his made-up savior. "Hey. I wouldn't be here without him. Okay? So stop saying things like that."

A carnival of expressions danced across Arlo's face, one after the other. He settled on pride, of all things. "Aha! So there is some truth to the tale about my little brother, at last, standing up for himself in the face of great adversary."

Yes. Yes, the other bag that had been weighing on him during his ride home. Things would need to change — he had changed things. But after all those long years just meekly keeping his head down, he wasn't sure how much strength he had left in him. The spine bends so easily to habit.

"Come on. Come, sit," Arlo said, directing him toward the kitchen. "I've been aiming to make some tea, but I wasn't sure when you'd arrive. Peach, black?"

They settled by the counter, with Arlo working on the inside like an overqualified bartender late for work. He took out a box of tea bags — PullWick special — and set it on the counter, then filled the kettle shortly after. "Sometimes I still forget that..." He said with his back to him as he looked through the upper cupboards. He paused for a moment then, before grabbing a pair of cups. "Everything will be better once you get some sleep. Hm? After. We can go over the details after."

Roen didn't want tea, and he had slept enough. And one of those conflicted with the other, anyway. "I imagine they didn't sound happy. When they called you."

"Hmm. Frank was… You might not know him very well, but he doesn't get mad the way people usually do. He's a canister; keeps his ire contained until the pressure gets to him. Or when he can afford to let it out in a controlled environment."

Arlo sat opposite of Roen, taking the kettle of boiling water off the power base. "I don't think he took your antics too badly." he said, pouring over both filters. He put two sugar cubes in Roen's. "Hank was a tad more vocal, though."

Roen looked at the steam wafting above his cup. "Let me guess. He wants me…" Beat up. "…disciplined."

"If he does, he didn't say. Which is good, because nobody tells me how to run my own fucking operation," Arlo said. "I… didn't realize how much this affected you. That's on me — blame where blame is due. And I will fix it."

Fix it. Roen didn't touch his tea. It's been more than a year now since Arlo had personally joined the team for a job. Roen could excuse him for not seeing it, yeah. Maybe. How much it was destroying him to do what he did.

Probably too late now, anyway.

"Arlo."

His brother took a sip. "I will fix it."

"Please. I, I can't do this anymore," Roen said. His voice shook, but he pushed through it. "I don't care about the money — and you… we have more than enough. We could shut the whole thing down."

"I want to, Roen. And we will, okay? We will."

"When?" Roen asked roughly. After his pixie rescuer showed him that unconditional goodness did exist in this world, every part of his being rebelled against taking part in another assassination job. "I'm not going back out on the streets to help you execute another hit."

Arlo sat in silence, staring at him over the rim of his cup. What he saw, Roen could not guess. The ungrateful little brother, the one who needed taking care of when there was nobody else left to do it. The one who couldn't appreciate the sacrifices to be made and the ladders to be climbed.

"Okay, Roen. Okay," Arlo whispered. "No more drone rigging."

The brothers didn't look at each other as both teas and tempers cooled in the sterile kitchen. The analog clock above the fridge crawled forward with artificial ticks, the ancient mechanism starting to lag behind again. It was a recurring project of Roen's to keep it running.

It would feel nice to do something productive with his hands again.

"Have you scanned through the Falcon catalogue lately?" Arlo asked. "I topped up your account. I hear there's some top tech coming fresh from the Hullwork 37 factories. You needed that… capacitor, yes?"

"Resistor. Um, three-terminal. I wanted to test how much it slows the current with the new plasteel composite I've been trying to work out. Advantex fiberglass is just not…" Roen paused. He doesn't care. He's just being polite. "Yeah, I'll take a look. Thanks."

He fiddled with the tea filter's tag on the side of his cup. "Your stocks doing well?"

"Eh. I'm about even with the ups and downs, nowadays. Short trading has never been a reliable living — just gambling with extra steps. Helped me to get us off the ground, but gambling all the same." Arlo smiled, leaning back to button up his suit. "Speaking of — I have some big plans for an acquisition that will cement our future."

Roen drew up a brow. "More stocks?"

"Controlling stake, little brother. Controlling stake for a respectable dog in the corporate race." He spread his hands. "We're going long term, baby. Dividends!"

His brother's enthusiasm was infectious. "That does sound great," Roen smiled.

"Mhm, so. No more hits, no more hiding in the night like rats. We'll have to get one last thing done with the crew, but after…" Arlo said, getting out his keys as he rounded the counter. He gave Roen a resolute grip on the shoulder. "This will be the end of an era, Roen. A new start for the family. I promise you."

One last thing?

"Tim left us. Mother was never here. The megacity itself, Sirrej, grinds wretches like us to paste by the dozen while the vids and the cams and the heartless media medusa watches for entertainment. We can't rely on anyone but each other. Are you with me, Roen?"

Somehow, Roen met his brother's eyes. "I am," he said.

And may the gods have mercy on both our souls.

---------

Thanks for reading these early chapters. If you haven't yet, please leave a review for the first book in the series (Zevara)!