It wasn’t particularly easy for Kieran to pay attention during his daily AE briefing. Particularly when his daily task was a low-stakes sting operation like the one Honeyman was delivering this morning.

Well, the hangover didn’t help either.

Honeyman slipped the crude, jagged-edged orders across his desk towards Kieran with his usual flourish. The page would flip and twirl out in the air as he passed it on. It was as if Honeyman was Kieran’s student; turning in an assignment he was particularly proud of completing.

Kieran probably took a full second before slowly dragging his eyes from Honeyman’s thick, spindly eyebrows down to the page. The words SUSPECTED PUBLIC ENDANGERMENT and REQUESTED FOR QUESTIONING rang out in thick bureaucratic ink on the page. Code for ‘this one is rocking the boat, and we’re going to fix it.’

“…shouldn’t be too hard, now,” Honeyman continued. Goddamn, those eyebrows nearly connect to his hairline. “Right, Key?”

Kieran gave a slow nod as if to say, 'Hey, fuckface, I’ve done this daily for the past decade. Do you really need my positive reinforcement right now?' However, not wanting to stir the pot and listen to the man drone on another twenty minutes about mutual respect, Kieran conceded. “It’s not a problem.”

“You really need to lay off that stuff, Key,” Honeyman said. He had really picked up on calling him ‘Key,’ recently, hadn’t he? He’d heard the port boys call him that one time about a month ago on the way up for the daily briefing, and now he couldn’t go three sentences without inserting it in there. “You can see it in your eyes. At least drink some water.”

“Water’s bad here, you know that,” Kieran replied. Which really wasn’t a lie. Trying to get anything decent in Port Apex in terms of water was a shitshow. He usually had to travel upwards to The Square to get some and cart it back like a mule. An unpleasant task he reserved for the day of the week Honeyman left him the fuck alone.

Honeyman nodded. A rotund man of who-knows-how-old, he had always acted as paternally as he could during these meetings. Like a jaunty, filthy Santa Claus, or so Kieran figured. All he knew about that character was through the decaying kid's books the port boys had given him as a child.

In any case, Honeyman had been his AE rep for as long as he could remember. Retired from working the sectors, Honeyman had set himself up a cushy, warm desk job only interrupted by his routine visits to the Runners. So far as Kieran knew, there was him, some older gentleman who needed to retire soon before snapping his back mid-route, and a new girl Kieran hadn’t gotten to meet yet. Whenever the older Runner finally gave up the ghost, Honeyman would have to find a new Runner to fill his required three slots. Though Kieran was sure Honeyman would be perfectly fit to find a way to lie to his own bosses.

That’s typically the way it went with the Runner system. Good old Apex Enforcement would send a representative out into the field six times a week to meet with the three appointed Runners for the subsection. Traditionally, these AE reps would give whatever tasks came in from their higher-ups, the Runners would finish the jobs, plus whatever work they could scrounge up themselves, and the reps would collect a flat twenty percent of the profits.

But Honeyman didn’t like doing it that way. Instead, he and Kieran devised a system that better suited them both. Honeyman came in for his daily briefing as 8am sharp. He’d give whatever tasks came down from the higher-ups off, and send Kieran on his way. Kieran would complete the task and all of the work he could find otherwise, and the next day, hand over the entire amount from the tasks given to him by Honeyman. That way, Kieran kept all of his profits from the non-AE work, Honeyman would skim off some for himself, and the remaining amount still looked like twenty percent of a hard day’s work for Kieran. On paper, and according to AE management, Kieran was one of the fastest runners in the city. In reality…well, he was still pretty damn good.

Honeyman (or Mike, as Kieran saw his boss call him once) liked to run this racket with all of his Runners, and to be fair to him, Kieran really preferred this method. He got to keep eyes off of Honeyman, keep eyes off of himself, and make more than he could have otherwise. The only real problem was Honeyman’s incessant nice-guy approach to Kieran. Any empathy Honeyman showed to Kieran was fake, and both of them knew it.

“Maybe I can talk to my guys in Public Works,” Honeyman continued. Kieran's eyes darted from his hairy face to the puff of curls poking out of his shirt. God, did the man own shears? “Water’s pretty short, but if I pitch it as a necessity for the port boys, then maybe it’ll pan out.”

“Yeah, we’d certainly appreciate it,” Kieran said, barely hiding his disinterest. “So just the one?” he asked, looking down to the standard Suspected Public Endangerment notice.

“Yup,” Honeyman said, clipped and short. He clearly wanted to discuss water infrastructure further, for some reason. “They told me he was a tricky ‘un to get, so be careful on your hunt, ya know?”

“Yeah, I will be,” Kieran said. He snagged the paper and rose, perhaps a bit too quickly, and smashed his head pretty hard on the low ceiling. Shit, he wondered to himself, 'Am I still drunk?'

“Take care, Key,” Honeyman said. He rose slowly and offered a hand. Kieran grabbed it and offered a curt shake. He then led Honeyman out of the room. He was sure the others needed it.

As a makeshift office, Kieran and the port boys turned one of the old rotting shipping containers into a glorified meeting space. There were basic lights, a desk, some chairs, and even a massive barrel of some terrible substance one could easily get drunk on. Typically the space was needed for important business planning for Port Apex. Or, in other words, a place for the boys to get drunk secretly, and without pissing off the random patrollers in AE.

As predicted, Kieran saw two teenage boys hanging out on the perimeter, patiently awaiting their turn. Kieran gave a slight nod, which instantly triggered the boys into a full-on sprint to the shipping container.

It was still weird, to see people younger than him looking up at him as an authority figure. Just a few years ago, Kieran was like them—a wandering boy, hanging around the port, looking to feed off scraps and make a decent buck helping get the shipments in town.

Thank god he became a Runner and got past that life.

--

It took Kieran a solid hour to cross town on foot from Port Apex to The Square, where his mark lived. The pathway was rough, but not exactly hard to traverse. Straight roads went from muddy to dirty over the course of the walk, as Kieran slowly shook the mud off his boots from Port Apex and managed to cross into civilization. He had once heard that Port Apex, long ago, was built on top of landfill taken from hills destroyed in the main hub of the city. Funny, Kieran though, how things must have been back then.

Entering The Square, Kieran was always surprised at the number of original buildings still standing. ‘Retrograde Construction,’ was what Apex Authority often used to refer to the buildings built before the Blight. Most people just called them retrograde buildings.

Regardless, Apex Authority was slowly were working their way through each; either attempting to fix up the dilapidated buildings or condemn them. There weren’t many working machines big enough to take the buildings down, so condemned retrograde buildings usually became a hive for illicit activity.

In other words, became promising prospects.

Kieran knew a good contact to start with for finding his mark this morning; a butcher on the street corner of 2nd and Main. He was glad his mark was in The Square, which was one of the few areas in his subsection with street names. The others were often so dense and so crowded, the buildings would rise on one side of the street and connect overhead to the other. Giving proper direction to a shop you have to climb through a building like a fucking labyrinth to get to is not exactly feasible. And his subsection was considered one of the nicer ones.

“Hey, a surfperch needs a hole in its fin,” Kieran said next to his contact. Recognizing the coded message, his contact gave him a curt nod before turning back to the customers. He was particularly busy today.

Once he cleared out the crowd of people, the contact turned to him.

“Hey, Key, long time no see.”

“Don’t act happy to see me,” Kieran shot back, to the bemusement of the contact. Kieran knew his name, but it was easier to think of him as a means to an end. Neutrality was crucial when working as a Runner. Gangs, factions…each wanted loyalty, but a Runners to work above the fray. Pick no side. Simply continue to work for both.

“What can I do you for?” the contact said.

Kieran slipped the paper Honeyman gave him over to the contact, who glanced over it for a moment.

“Yeah,” the contact muttered, “I know this one. Lives over in Atlantic.”

”Atlantic?!”

Atlantic was a real piece of work. Lots of feuding families, fighting to be King of the Hill. What made it wore was Atlantic wasn’t in his subsection. Which was a big fucking problem for him.

“Yeah, just moved last month,” the contact continued. “Said AE was hot on his tail.”

“They are,” Kieran noted. “Know what he was up to?”

The contact shrugged. “Beats me. Be bought a five-pound trout every week for years. Came up a month ago, mentioned I wouldn’t be seeing him anymore, and then scattered off. I found out he moved to Atlantic from his sister. She’s the one buying the trout now.”

“Where does she live?”

The contact rattled off the directions, and Kieran nodded. He slipped twenty dollars to the man and made way for the sister.

He scrambled his brain to remember which Runners ran that subsection, but he couldn’t recall. But in reality, it didn’t really matter. Runners were fiercely territorial, and if he got caught operating in that subsection, the Runners there would wage war. Most likely, Kieran would need to find one of the Runners in that subsection and cut them a part of the profit for completing the task. He couldn’t (or wouldn’t) tell Honeyman, and he’d had to pay off the AE he tipped off for the pickup to report it as District B, Subsection 3, instead of whatever district Atlantic was in.

Essentially, this job just got more complicated, would pay less, and would probably take all morning. Which really pissed Kieran off, because he had a lot of jobs lined up for today; some of them paying better than he’s made in the past month. Most of them delivering smaller contraband items fresh off the boats, too. Easy transports that sat waiting in his satchel, ready for delivery.

It may have been morning, and Kieran may have still been hungover, but he snagged a drink on the way to the sister’s home anyway.

Lord knew he needed it.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

How was it 5:00 AM already?

Aura groggily slapped the alarm clock, causing it to topple onto the floor and disappear somewhere underneath her cot. “Sorry,” she groaned at the machine as she stood up and stretched.

Though getting up that early wasn’t necessary for work, if she wanted a decent shower in the community bathing room, it most certainly was. The 24th floor housed 18 other 10’ x 10’ apartments, or more accurately described, concrete blocks, half of them with children, and Aura’s ideal morning routine didn’t include fighting over the hot water.

The ‘high rise’ she lived in was rumored to once be a high-security prison from hundreds of years ago, but the melancholic, towering building served as housing for many of subsection F’s residents. Each room had a toilet and sink, but the bunk bed frames were taken during the construction of Apex’s new prison closer to the beach. The prisoner’s had a nicer view than they did, and she was sure that the senate had a laugh over the matter when they picked the location. It was a surprise it hadn’t been bulldozed yet, but she assumed the AA didn’t want to deal with the daunting task of relocating them all.

Armed with a towel and her toiletries, Aura slipped out of her room and quietly closed until until she heard it click; the Murphy’s had already complained about her slamming her door twice, and being more careful was much less of a nuisance than hearing Mrs. Murphy’s shrill voice berating her about being more ‘considerate.’

Del, her next door neighbor, was unlocking his door as she exited. He was a sweet, humble man, around her age, who became a friend to her after years of living alongside each other. They had come up with the early morning shower routine together one evening after he had scored some wine from a coworker.

“Save some hot water for me, Del?” she whispered, sticking a tongue out after.

He bowed and grinned. “As always.”



“Listen up!” the short, bulky man barked to the small cluster of workers in front of him who had not yet been assigned their daily duty. Surprisingly, you even had to work your way up in Sanitation and Maintenance to get a routine job.

“Keating, you’re doing maintenance for public transportation. One of the rail cars is malfunctioning again. Mayfield, you’re helping him.”

They’d never let her work on the trains again, but she always was hopeful.

“Del, Campos, you’re on roadkill again.”

Aura looked to her friend and stifled a grin. “You shouldn’t have pissed him off last week,” she whispered, getting a jab in the ribs in return.

“And Holland, you’re on street clean up.”

Damn it.

An hour later, she was in the heart of Atlantic, the innermost square of subsection F, lazily using a grabber to pick up litter as she ambled down the sidewalk. The streets were bustling with citizens, mostly mothers not assigned job duties getting food for the week and the normal trouble making teens dipping in and out of alleyways. She got along with most of them out of sympathy; it wasn’t long ago that she was one of them.

One of her favorites, a sixteen year old named Sim - which she assumed was short for something - had been caught stealing from a market, his third offense. Once the AE arrived, they dragged him out into the street and shot him in the head.

”This is a reminder to all of you!” one of the enforcers barked through a megaphone. “We forgive three times.”

Aura was now on her second strike for stealing, along with a few different first strikes in other categories of ‘unacceptable behavior.’ It was said that one wasn’t truly for the cause if they didn’t at least have one.

Time went by slowly as she went from block to block, humming as she daydreamed most likely of the beach or the mountains. It was interrupted abruptly by a familiar voice, immediately causing her eyes to roll.

It was Soren, an enforcer that she knew all too well, along with a couple of others that she hadn’t bothered to learn the names of.

“Hey, Holland,” he greeted her, his voice dripping with disdain. “How’s our favorite garbage man liking her new career?”

“Fuck off, Soren,” she groaned, pushing past the men.

“Is that disrespect towards an enforcer? That’d be a second strike in that category.”

Aura stopped in her tracks with a deep breath, and swiveled around, displaying a fake smile. “I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.”

“That’s what I thought,” he replied, crossing his arms in satisfaction. “Now get back to work.” Soren and the other gaggle of men chuckled until they disappeared around the corner, leading to the woman finally unclenching her fists with a sigh of relief. “Asshole.”

Midday had come along with the intense sunshine, and sweat began to bead on Aura’s forehead. Six more hours to go. In her aimless wandering, picking up litter from the streets, it surprised her when she wound up in front of the tavern owned by Dean and Mae, a couple in their mid-fifties deep into the cause.

Aura checked her surroundings to make certain no enforcers were around, and once confirmed, she quickly disappeared behind the heavy wooden door and into the dark bar, greeted by a few of the daytime regulars she had gotten to know over the few years. Once her eyes adjusted, she greeted them back by name until sitting down on a stool, Mae swiveling around from cleaning a glass to greet her.

“Aura,” the woman said warmly, “you’re early today.” Her eyes looked her up and down. “And on the job I see.”

“I know,” Aura sighed, resting her face in her hands. “It’s just so hot out. I got street clean up again.”

“Well, that’s what happens when you’re caught stealing,” Mae chuckled, speaking so quietly that Aura had to strain to hear her. “You’re lucky they thought it was just money you were taking. If they knew what you were really doing, you’d be dead in the street like Sim.”

“For the cause,” Aura groaned, but her demeanor changed when Mae slid her a glass of ale. “Thanks Mae.”

Three months ago, Aura had been assigned to clean a large home in B, the subsection of many of Apex’s elite either born into it or earned through work in the AA or AE. The owner of the house, in particular, was a high-ranking enforcer who was particularly close with elected officials, and she had been tasked with gathering any information on the plans to deal with the rumored uprising in Unity, but when caught, Aura admitted to looking for money in the man’s office.

“Is the meeting still on for tonight, Mae?” she asked after taking a particularly large gulp from her glass. It was the time of those who were actively gathering intel to notify the rest of the cause of their findings, and from there, devise their new plan for the month ahead.

Mae’s eyes widened, telling her that she had done something wrong, then darted to the left to signal Aura where to look.

When she did, she realized. An outsider. How could Aura not have noticed? After mouthing an “I’m sorry,” she chugged the rest of her ale, she left her coins on the bar and thanked Mae. Before leaving though, she needed to cover her ass.

“Hey,” she greeted the stranger quietly, leaning against the bar to his right and sliding a single bill towards him. “It’s not much, but if you’re one of their spies, I can’t take another strike.” As she finished her sentiment, she studied his face for the first time and cocked her head to the side in curiosity. “And if you’re just a new alcoholic… drinks on me.”

She patted the top of the dollar as a reminder to him, then continued until she was back out onto the city streets, snapping her arm grabber closed a few times as if to get used to it again. If I’m on street clean up for one more week, I’ll explode.

Kieran followed his contacts instructions carefully, which led him toward the edge of the subsection—a particularly seedy part of Apex known as The Stacks.

This section of town used to be a sprawling roadway network; connecting hundreds of vehicles heading into town from all directions. It was said that the average citizen usually had their own car; taking these vast concrete networks for hundreds or thousands of miles.

These days, The Stacks look much more like labyrinth than a network.

Appearing as a garbled concrete mess, with half destroyed and collapsed bridges littering the ground, the only vehicles using the network ahead (or rather, what as left of it) were AA and AE vehicles. Underneath, the space between the ground and the concrete above was filled with vast stacks of shipping containers, old vehicles, garbage, and whatever else others could get their hands on.

His entire subsection was nowhere near wealthy, but this might have been the most desolate of all of the neighborhoods he frequented. On the other side of these stacks was Atlantic, so he was thankful for this journey leading towards his destination rather than away from it.

He went through the information he had in his head concerning the day’s orders. His mark was named Aren Wrey. He had a sister named Anna. Anna lived in the stacks. Aren was wanted for Suspected Public Endangerment—the AE’s blanket-term for troublemakers. Anna would likely not cooperate easily.

Kieran hated himself on some small level for having to enact the bidding of the AE. Runners strived for neutrality; working as an equally uninterested and uncaring aspect of the battle between the lower classes and the upper echelons of society itself. Runners worked in this manor because they knew if they didn’t tow the line, they would just as easily be replaced, subjugated, or much worse.

Many of the poorer subsections in town worked on a “three-times forgiveness” system. It ensured the illusion of mercy was stronger in the lower classes. Runners didn’t have such luxuries. If Kieran was caught even so much as associated with suspected rebel leaders, it was an instant execution.

Still, while this remained public knowledge, it didn’t stop the animosity many people had towards Runners. There would always be conflict, and frankly, Kieran was used to leveraging his position to keep moving forward.

It wasn’t about kindness. Not in Apex. It was always about survival.

Kieran wandered the dark, damp bottom floor of The Stacks in search of his contact; a waifish boy no older than fourteen. He didn’t charge much for being a Runner Contact, but he certainly made it clear he took no joy in assisting Runners. Not that it mattered to Kieran. This was survival, and it was never personal.

“Behind you,” the contact called out in a high, echoey voice. Kieran turned to see the boy protruding from the side of a residence. As with most people in The Stacks, the boys legs were matted up with gray mud from the knees down. No amount of washing would get rid of the color.

“I’ll make it quick,” Kieran said.

“Please do,” the contact replied, “I can’t promise people like seeing your lot around here these days.”

“Oh?” Kieran asked. “So I take it you don’t have any new work for me?”

The contact shook his head. “Runners are always trouble in The Stacks. Speaking of, what trouble do you have for me?”

Kieran leaned in. “Looking for an Anna Wrey,” he said, quieter now. The contact seemed to have no reaction to the name, which was good in Kieran’s mind. The boy pointed a bony finger to a deep green shipping container about five floors off the ground.

“You arresting her?” The boy asked.

“No,” Kieran replied, already moving away. “Not her at least.”

--

Kieran knocked three times on the door, and rattled off the usual required summons: “Anna Wrey? This is Transportation Technician #3B149. As per the authority invested in me by Apex Enforcement, I am requesting entry to ask you a few questions—”

The door opened before Kieran could get the last few words out. From the darkness, a voice:

“Make it quick.”

Kieran nodded, and entered the home.

In here, the only light that seemed to come through was a small gash in the top of the shipping container. The asymmetric light lit up the back-left of the container, which contained a small, dusty bed. Trash and debris seemed to cover the rest of the area, and Anna-or whom he assumed to be Anna-had made her way back to a small patch of bare floor on which she had been sitting.

“I was expecting a Runner sooner or later,” she spoke, face angled downward so as to keep what remained of her identity a secret. All that Kieran could tell at this point was her age—which seemed to be somewhere in the mid-40s. He kept himself next to the door in case a quick escape was needed.

“You want Aren, I know.”

Kieran cleared his throat. “He’s been requested for questioning, and I’ve been asked to locate him.” He figured being honest may be the best move here.

“He’s on his second strike, you know,” Anna said, eyes still to the floor. “Something tells me they have more than questions for him.”

“I would not know,” Kieran said, keeping his cards ever-closer to his chest. In actually, yes; the phrasing on Aren’s summons was standard for a summary execution. His body would likely be tossed on top of the other bodies on Mercer Island by the end of the week.

“Do you know where I can find him?”

“Unity,” Anna said, using the unofficial and banned name for the Atlantic subsection. Not that Kieran was interested in correcting her. “Look for a tavern in the innermost square, ran by a couple a bit older than me. He told me he’d be there this morning if I wanted to come by.”

“This morning?” Kieran asked. When’d he tell you this?

“A month, maybe,” Anna said. She coughed twice, then took a swig from a nearby bottle. “Said it’d be the last opportunity for us to meet before he skipped down.”

“So why aren’t you there now?” Kieran asked. Normally he wouldn’t, but considering the strange circumstances here, he was curious.

“The same reason I’m ratting him out to you,” Anna replied. “He took every dollar we had with him when he left. All because he was out fucking around and making a bad rap for himself.” She stood and leaned in closer to Kieran. “Whatever comes his way, he deserves it.”

Kieran thought for a moment. On one hand, this meeting had gone smoothly. Too smoothly. Yet on the other, these situations weren’t entirely uncommon. Dire financial situations often meant family sharing resources to survive. Mix money and family, and these sorts of things could happen easily.

These were some of the few moments that Kieran found himself thankful for his lack of ties. No family and very few friends meant no enemies. Kieran remained invisible; invulnerable to the sorts of familial betrayal he had found himself a part of on this day.

Kieran thanked her for the information, handed her a small payment for the trouble, and set off once more. He was thankful this mission just got a whole lot easier; in fact, he likely wouldn’t even need to find a Runner for Atlantic. To pay off. From here, it was just a simple payment to the AE officer in the area to write down a different subsection, and it was smooth sailing from there in out. Hell, he might even have time for his other goals for the day after all.

--

Kieran crossed into Atlantic without too much trouble.

Subsections often had checkpoints to keep track of the people heading into and out of certain areas. This was often stated as a means to keep people safe, but more often than not, it made it much easier for AA to track down whoever they needed to.

As a Runner, these crossing simply involved showing the officers on guard his paperwork and Runner’s Stamp. During today’s crossing, he essentially breezed past the checkpoint.

Atlantic was one of the many subsections to have an assigned work schedule. Most people here woke up, received their orders, and went about their day. As such, Kieran kept a low profile and slipped past the Sanitation and Maintenance workers that were making their daily routes.

He slipped his bag onto a clip on his back and covered it with a longer jacket. It was his hope that most people saw him more as a random stranger than a Runner. God knew the trouble he’d be in if other Runners knew what he was up to.

Kieran observed the street clean up crews carefully. A boy here. A older man there. A thin woman about his age down a side street. These were often the silent watchers of Atlantic, and all of Apex for that matter. The people out all day; seeing passers-by, taking mental notes. Kieran knew he was walking into one of the most antagonistic subsections against Apex Authority today, and by proxy, antagonistic towards himself. Antagonism that had only grown worse since the recent shortages had began.

Looking up once more from his thoughts, he spotted the old tavern Anna had told him about a few buildings down from where he was. He was just about to head that way when a large arm blocked his path.

“Finished with your daily duties already, are ya?” the boorish AE officer said. He shoved Kieran for good measure. “I haven’t seen your type around here. You’re dressed too well for this.”

Kieran didn’t hide his distain. He had no time for this. “Runner #3B149, official business, so do you mind?”

The officer gave Kieran an incredulous look, as if he had been offended by Kieran’s tone. “Yeah, I don’t think so,” he muttered out. “In case you haven’t noticed, you’re in 3F, not 3B.”

“Yeah, I’m well aware,” Kieran said. His eyes looked to the left and the right. This was not the sort of conversation he wanted to have in public. “And if you leave me alone I can make that discrepancy worth your while.”

The officer frowned. “Show me your stamp and papers then, Runner boy.”

Kieran had just about had it with this officer. He angled himself against a wall, as to ensure no one but this asshole would see his paperwork. He handed the stamp and papers to the officer, who gawked up and down at them before throwing them back at Kieran. “Shit,” he said, “Guess you are a Runner.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Kieran snapped back. AE officers liked to talk a big game, but AA looked at the officers and the Runners as equal under their jurisdiction. And as much as it probably pissed off this particular officer, Kieran was sure the brute in front of him now knew that and wouldn’t push too hard at Kieran’s rudeness. Disputes between AE workers were often resolved by the cleanliness of one’s record, and Kieran’s was spotless. “So do you want to make some money today or not?”

The officer grunted, “just hurry it up, would you?” and stepped out of the way.

As he did, Kieran couldn’t help but notice the three or four street cleaners in the area that had seen the altercation and how easily Kieran had got the officer to stand down. And judging by their looks, he was sure he had already made too much of a reputation for himself here already.

“If a man runs out of the tavern I’m about to enter,” Kieran said in a low voice to the officer, “do me a favor and arrest him. Alive, preferably.” Kieran waited for the officer’s nod of understanding, and walked off.

Making a mental note never to come back to Atlantic after today, he stepped into the tavern.

Inside, aside from the couple behind the counter, there was only one man; sullen and looking downward at his drink. He looked up quickly after hearing Kieran approach, but quickly looked down again.

Expecting to see Anna, no doubt.

Kieran took a seat next to the man. He hated this part particularly. He shot a glance up to the couple behind the counter which screamed ‘you don’t want to see this.’

They seemed to take a hint, and slipped away.

“Aren, I presume,” Kieran said to the man, looking forward instead of at him.

“Please,” Aren stammered. “I have money, I have information. There was a woman here a short while ago. She said something about a meeting tonight. Maybe that could—”

“Aren,” Kieran said again, and the dire tone he struck seemed to shut Aren up. “This isn’t something you can talk your way out of.”

“Please man,” Aren continued. Kieran could hear his voice quiver as he spoke. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Did you take all of Anna’s money?” Kieran asked. The man’s silence answered his question, and cleared Kieran’s revolve of the situation. At least Kieran could sleep better at night knowing at the very least, this guy had stolen money.

Finally, the man spoke. “That money wasn’t just hers, you know.” He looked to Kieran. “It was mine, too.”

“This is how this is going to go,” Kieran said, changing the subject. “I’m going to leave, and the officer outside is going to bring you in for questioning.”

“Bullshit,” Aren shot back. “They’ll shoot me in some back alley for my third strike.”

“Or,” Kieran said, continuing his earlier thought, “You can run, in which case, they’ll shoot you right here in the center of town.”

“My own sister,” Aren said to himself. “Fucking bitch.”

Any empathy Kieran had for this man was gone by this point. “Which way are we doing this, Aren?”

Judging by the glass smacked into Kieran’s head the next second, it seemed like this was going to go the hard way.

Aren had bolted from the tavern before Kieran had hit the ground. His head rung with pain immediately, but judging by the fact that the bottle Aren had hit him with remained intact, he was immediately sure the worst injury he had sustained was a mild concussion. Not so bad.

As for Aren? He took three steps outside the taven before the AE officer blew his brains out right there in the streets.

Kieran was more than finished with this task. He stepped outside and approached the officer—slipping him a hundred dollar bill.

“You will write this incident as occurring in #3B, not #3F. Understand?”

The officer looked to the money, then to Kieran, then nodded.

With that, Kieran marched away from Aren’s still-bleeding corpse, hoping to be out of Atlantic within the hour.

He wasn’t sure who or what had marked him, but he was sure he was a marked man by this point. And he didn’t care to stick around and find out the consequences of that.

If Aura wasn’t lagging before, the beer surely caused her pace to decline. She had only made it across the street and up a few storefronts before she heard commotion. After swivelling around to spectate, it became apparent what was transpiring.

The stranger who had just been sitting next to her had bolted from the tavern, causing Soren to bark something at him before the familiar, but still terrible pop rang in the air, causing the woman to instinctually plug her ears with her fingers.

Against protocol, Aura approached inconspicuously, remaining as flush to the storefronts as she could until she was directly across the street from the scene, picking a graffitied aluminum garbage can to crouch behind.

It was confirmed to be the same man whose brains and blood now covered the asphalt, glistening in the high noon sunlight like a red, rushing river. His body laid crumpled like the litter she’d be cleaning all day.

“What a waste of a dollar,” she mumbled to herself.

Soon, another man exited the tavern, one that had not been in there before. While the first man was a stranger purely for the fact that Aura had not seen him before, this man was a much different definition of the word. His street clothes were nice and cleanly, but they weren’t those of an official or an officer, plus much too understated for Subsection’s A or C. They loved to flash their wealth with every given opportunity. He was fit, and by the looks of it, well fed, and he towered over the other men he approached.

Aura, in her day dreaming, must have risen from her semi-crouched position, because she caught the eye of Soren.

“Holland! You want the baton, again?” He barked, quickly retrieving it from his utility belt and extending it with a quick flick of his wrist.

“No, thanks,” she replied snarkily, raising her hands in submission, the arm grabber still clutched in one. The last time he used the baton, he cracked one of her ribs.

Soren retracted the stick and stuck it back in his belt. “Then keep moving.”

Aura followed orders, retreating down the sidewalk, but not without a glance back to the group of men. Eye contact with the strange man was made, causing her to quickly snap her head forward and quicken her pace.

Why was he here? And what the fuck was happening in Unity?



Hours later, Aura was back in her room preparing for the meeting she had that night. Due to the event at the tavern earlier, the meeting had been moved out near the farming fields in a dilapidated barn. The cause had runners on their payroll, and one had found her on the street, informing her of the change without even stopping to speak to her.

Her hair was now braided down her back, and a coal pencil that Del had used for his art was used as a makeshift eyeliner. Her work suit was replaced with a pair of black pants, a black tank top, and an olive green utility jacket that had once been her fathers.

Before leaving, she lightly rapped on Del’s door. Once he answered, she scooted inside quickly and didn’t speak until the door clicked behind her.

“If the meeting runs late, I’m staying at my dad’s. He’s close to the spot and I don’t want to risk getting caught after curfew.”

Del nodded. “Got it.”

“You sure you don’t want to come?”

He chuckled. “You know I’m no vigilante.”

Aura smiled slightly. The cause made it clear to never speak of their efforts to those who were involved, but she figured it was better to have someone to cover for her than not. Plus, she trusted Del with her life. “Okay. If anyone asks, I’m at my dad’s.”

“You got it.”

Aura patted his shoulder before sliding out of the room and down the dark hallway, the excitement of another gathering vibrating throughout her body.



Around thirty people had filed into the barn which was illuminated by lanterns scattered along its walls. Everyone who could brought either bread, alcohol, or another favor to share with the group, and while having to remain quiet, the room was alive with warmth and camaraderie.

Once the meeting started, Aura found a cozy spot on a stack of hay, cradling a bottle of ale that Gregor had brought especially for her.

That same man was the one who began the meeting, taking a spot in the center of the semicircle that had formed. “We are short quite a few people tonight. Calin, along with a few others, couldn’t be found by any of our runners. Milo and Seena are on duty in subsection C. And last we heard, the same ten we’ve been missing are still jailed. Alive though.”

The crowd sighed in relief at the news. Many times, those from subsection F didn’t make it out.

“There was an unidentified man shot today outside of Dean and Mae’s tavern. According to Mae, another man came in to question him, the man who was shot attacked him, then ran outside to meet the enforcers waiting for him.”

Aura looked down, hoping to not be called on. Mae was usually the only one who got so lucky.

“Aura?”

She sighed, looking up at the room who now had all eyes on her. “Both men I’ve never seen before. The one who was shot looked rough. If not a citizen of Unity, he may have been from B or E. But the other man…” she took another breath, “definitely was not from around here. He was speaking with the AE after the incident.”

The group began to murmur, and Gregor raised his hands as a sign to quiet down.

“We don’t know how long he’ll be in Unity, so, Aura?”

Damn it.

“You’re the only one who could recognize him besides Mae. We need you to do some recon.”

“Yes, sir,” she nodded, her eyes burning a hole in the dirt floor beneath her. Though she’d do anything for the cause, watching someone who was working with the AE seemed like a good way to get another strike, or worse.

The rest of the meeting continued on, detailing other recent events in Unity, along with some future plans of retaliation against the AE and the AA, soon to come to fruition. But for now, they just relied on gathering intel, which is the job Aura was on before she had gotten caught “stealing money.”

Many of the members had a deep seeded hatred for the government, for the AE, for those who lived in luxury and comfort in subsections A and C, and it was all justified in Aura’s eyes. While they lived off tiny rations and were worked to the bone, the other two subsections ate feasts and enjoyed games and hobbies. While subsection F were brutalized and heavily monitored by enforcers, A and C lived with much more freedom and power over their lives. The AA officials were only plucked from those subsections, so the nepotism continued while the poorer subsections crumbled.

The focus of the cause was to find a way to bring balance to the factions, whether through negotiation or by force.

The meeting went on for another half hour or so, then the group was free to partake in some revelry before curfew hit. Aura, not feeling particularly social, remained on her stack of hay, sipping the bottle of ale frequently.

Gregor plopped down next to her, throwing an arm around her shoulders. “How’s it taste?”

“Delicious,” she nodded, wiping a drop of the beverage from her lips. “Thank you.”

“Of course. I don’t play favorites, but if I did, you’d be up there.”

Aura rolled her eyes as a smile began to form in the corners of her mouth. “You’re full of shit, Gregor.”

“Oh come on,” he smiled back, turning his body towards her. “What do you say we have some fun like old times, huh? You can stay at my place again. I scored some eggs that I can make in the morning.”

“It’s tempting,” she sighed, patting his head, “but I have work tomorrow. I need to get back to my room.”

“Want me to walk you?”

“I’ll be okay, Gregor.”



Aura had made it back to Atlantic with an hour to spare before curfew, and with Mae’s tavern closed early for the meeting, she decided to go to another pub across town.

It was packed, many of the patrons playing darts and other games as they powered through as much alcohol as they could before closing.

Aura found the last seat at the bar, and squeezed herself between two other people to grab it. The bartender quickly took her order, setting down a mug larger than her head filled to the brim with frothy ale. She lifted it and took four to five gulps.

In her observance of the others across the bar, her eyes spotted the man from earlier, her new objective given to her by the cause.

Serendipity.

Aura left her money on the bar and got up, holding the large mug carefully as she weaved through the crowded pub until closing in on her target. Don’t fuck this up. Don’t fuck this up.

Just as she began to pass him, she allowed about a few gulps worth of ale to shoot from the glass, landing right on the man’s shoulder and chest.

“Wow, I am so sorry,” Aura called out, hastily setting her mug down and grabbing a rag from the bar to drag across his shirt in a fake attempt to help mop up the liquid. “I was just gonna throw some darts over here,” she continued to explain, pointing to the corner behind the man. When their eyes met, the acting job continued. “I saw you earlier! At the other tavern. I’m Aura.”

She stuck a frail but confident hand out to the man to greet him.

“You like darts?”

Kieran couldn’t get out of Atlantic soon enough.

He had moved into a full-fledged march from the scene of the murder, moving quickly and as seamlessly as possible. He had indeed hoped that the AE officer he had paid off wouldn’t have been so trigger-happy, but what could he expect?

Atlantic, or Unity, or subsection F, or however anyone wanted to refer to it was a shithole. And he knew people would look down on him for thinking so, but it was simply what he thought.

There were three types of subsections in Kieran’s minds. The first was the wealthy—the upper class of Apex, who conflated the rest of the city with cockroaches, which made sense, seeing as how they disposed of their hired help with about as much decency as you would show a rotting trash pile. Any time Kieran spent in the more wealthy subsections made him want to vomit. He distinctly remembered one trade he had made in subsection A.

A particularly well-off real estate developer, who specialized in the renovation of retrograde homes, had paid Kieran well to hand off a bribe to local squatters in a property he was hoping to renovate. After Kieran had done so, he could distinctly remember the real estate developed wiping his hands after handing Kieran payment. Even as an official worker, he was seen as scum.

The next type of subsection were subsections like B, which minded their own business. These subsections weren’t always impoverished, but they were filled with people focused on survival over grand ideations of freedom. These people flourished within an unfair system by focusing on doing everything necessary to keep AA out of their business. In essence, Kieran’s people.

Then you had places like Atlantic. Places where people were focused on escaping the system, bucking the government, stuff like that. And while a small part of Kieran respected such a strict focus to ideals, the result of that focus was tyranny. AA and AE officers would flood the place with killings in the street, strict rules on travel and work, anything to keep the whispers of rebellion squashed.

The net result was a place Kieran disliked being in most of all. Because they weren’t shitholes because they were dirty, no, it was because the endless skirmishes between citizens and officials left the subsections more like warzones than homes, with eyes everywhere and Kieran’s type of work impossible to perform.

As Kieran made his way out, he locked eyes with a woman that looked roughly his age.

She was frail, perhaps not starving but simply lighter than she probably ought to be. Her eyes held a beauty to them, which shone through darkened rings that Kieran couldn’t identify as makeup or lethargy. She clutched a litter grabber in her hand. But what made her notable wasn’t that she had locked eyes with him.

She seemed to note him. Size him up from the moment they saw each other. And that alone was enough to make him anxious.

He broke eye contact and made his way to the closest train station he could. As he had thought earlier, he intended never to enter Atlantic again.



The rest of the day saw a mostly routine operation. Kieran headed back into subsection B, first stopping in Port Apex since the noon shipment would have long since arrived. The waifish port boys handed Kieran a few packages marked for him.

Inside, he found the usual contraband. Large, ornate swords that a client near the center of Apex had ordered to hang in his home. A few pieces of jewelry likely picked from the corpses of former aristocrats buried on Vashon Island, where Apex sent all of the dead. A disc, likely containing either old movies or pornography, ordered by a particularly neurotic boy in The Square.

He packed up the things and went out to make a few deliveries.

Over the next few hours, Kieran did what he did best; dropping off products, picking up payments, and taking new orders from those who knew and stopped him. By the evening, he had likely racked up a few hundred dollars all to himself. Perhaps this day was going his way after all.

As he was making his way to Port Apex to take a shower and finally sleep, he was stopped by a familiar face; a repeat customer of his that went by Cale.

“Yo, Key!” He called out to Kieran. When he turned, he saw the younger man approach. Cale had been a port boy up until about a year ago when he enlisted as an AE junior officer. Or, in other words, an informant.

“What’s up, Cale?” Kieran asked. “I was just heading back home.” He hoped Cale would take his polite hint and leave him be.

He did not.

“I’ve got a really easy job for you. Pays as well as I can manage, but…it has to be done now.”

“Sorry, Cale,” Kieran apologized, already turning away from the young man, “I’m done for the day. But tomorrow—”

“This can’t wait,” Cale interrupted, his tone sharper than before, which stopped Kieran flat.

“I’m sorry, I just—” Cale started, then stopped. His words came in short, pained bursts. “Just one message, delivered verbally, tonight.” He pulled a sizable sum from his pocket. “I’ll pay you three hundred, flat, right now.”

“Excuse me?” Kieran asked. He tried to stop himself, but he simply couldn’t. Cale was offering to double his nightly income. There had to be a catch.

“You just gotta head to a tavern out in Atlantic for me.”

…and there’s the catch.

“Shit,” Kieran muttered. “What’s the message?”

Cale straightened up. “You gotta promise to deliver it, and tell no one else, okay? Then I’ll tell you.”

Kieran rolled his eyes. “I’m a Runner, Cale. I’m not going to go around spilling your secrets.”

“…and promise not to laugh.”

“Okay,” Kieran said. “I promise. On my life, sure, just tell me!”

Cale took a moment, then leaned in. “You’ll head to the tavern on Bayview and Rainier. Look for a bartender by the name of Teegan. Make sure it’s her, then tell her…” Cale’s cheeks turned beet red. “Tell her Cale needs his leather next time we play.”

Now Kieran’s cheeked turned red.

“You swore you wouldn’t laugh,” Cale muttered.

Kieran stifled himself as best he could. “Cale, buddy, You couldn’t have told her yourself?”

“We don’t see each other often, okay?” Cale defended. He started to walk away.

“Hey, I’m not judging,” Kieran started, “You guys can do whatever you’d like together. I’m just saying—”

“Just go, okay!” Cale called back as he left. “Atlantic has a curfew, you know!”



Sitting in the corner of the train to Atlantic, Kieran couldn’t help but think about the lunacy of today.

He had started out contributing to a man’s murder, swearing off Atlantic and thinking he’d never return…only to be back before the end of the day. Passing on what was no doubt some sexual request between two lovers. Or what was assumedly two lovers. Kieran couldn’t help but wonder the specifics there.

Still, money was money, and money didn’t discriminate or dabble in morality, and by extension, neither did Kieran.

He found the tavern with little incident, asking for directions once or twice. He was much calmer this time around, as he had left his bag home and could easily pretend he was out for pleasure, not business. While the Runners in this subsection may not like it, he was free to travel as he pleased.

And, once he found this Teegan person and he was sure no one suspected a thing, he could discreetly pass along the message, have a drink, and head home on the last train before curfew—quite a simple task.

Inside, Kieran found a different size of Atlantic than he had seen before. Here, people played darts and board games on desks along the walls. They talked and joked and laughed. There was even a guitarist and vocalist in the corner, adding to the cacophony of noise being generated inside.

Kieran had hoped this was a part of town a lot more like subsection B than the rest of Atlantic. A place where people lived, played, and mostly avoided confrontation.

He picked a spot at the end of the bar, ensuring to nod to the people he had eye contact with. For a visit such as this, he needed to blend in by being just another friendly patron.

As the bartender approached, Kieran waved her down.

“Rum and simple syrup if you don’t mind,” he asked her. Before he turned, he continued. “And do you know if Teegan is on shift today?”

“You’re speaking to her,” Teegan replied.

“Awesome,” he casually continued. He tried to think of a polite way to phrase the message but wasn’t sure if it were even possible. “I’ve got a friend that wants you to bring leather next time you guys meet. Goes by Cale? Any of that ring a bell?”

Teegan straightened up a bit and blushed. She nodded, momentarily speechless.

“And I really do want that drink, by the way,” he said. She snapped out of her momentary embarrassment and nodded.

“Thanks for the, uh…message,” she managed to say. “I’ll get you that drink.”

And with that, Kieran turned to face the center of the tavern and leaned with his back to the bar. An easy job. Kieran might have even thought the day had ended perfectly if it hadn’t been for the ale that just splashed at his side and front.

“Wow, I am so sorry,” a voice came.

“Woah, shit,” Kieran let out. “You’re good. You just caught me off-guard. You okay--?”

His question was stopped suddenly as he saw who had spilled the drink.

Those same eyes, that same frame. It was the girl from earlier.

Fuck.

His mind raced to think of his options as she hastily apologized and tried to clean his shirt. But before he could come up with something, she continued.

”I saw you earlier! At the other tavern. I’m Aura.”

Kieran thought hard about if he had met any Aura’s before, but he drew a blank in this moment. He had been caught completely off-guard, completely expecting to have the evening to himself. Now he had to figure out what this Aura girl wanted, why she had so clearly sought him out, and what it all meant. God, he hoped she wasn’t another Runner. He didn’t need another dispute on his hands.

“You like darts?”

‘Real subtle,’ Kieran thought to himself. He thought for a moment, then saw Teegan return with his drink. He slipped out a few dollars (plus a tip for her embarrassment) and handed it to her.

“I haven’t played much,” Kieran answered truthfully. He was no doubt going to have to lie over the course of this conversation, so the more truth he gave her, the easier it would be for him to remember. He took and shook her hand briefly. “And yeah, I did see you earlier.”

If this Aura person was hoping he would volunteer precisely why Kieran had been in town and involved in that shooting or even his name, she had another thing coming. She was going to have to ask for herself. And he was going to have to figure out how to handle this situation, and fast.

“I am down to learn, though,” he continued, hoping to be invited to a game. A game meant he could easily think. Easily focus. And hopefully stall until curfew, when Aura would likely have to head home, and Kieran could easily travel freely with his Runner’s Stamp and ID.

He took a large swig of the rum he had ordered, downing almost half of it at once. He figured he’d need it.

The man’s demeanor changed significantly once recognizing her, causing her to wonder if she had just made a mistake, but it was too late now. She’d win the man over.

Realizing that she was admiring his face for a bit too long, she forced a grin. “I can show you,” she replied, tugging his damp shirt sleeve to lead him to the corner where the dart board was hung. As her heartbeat thumped in her ears, she gathered the darts in her hand and took a deep breath before positioning herself.

“So,” another breath, “you want to keep your chest aligned with the bullseye, so stand center. Then, you wanna put your dominant foot forward, for me it’s my left. Then my left shoulder is also gonna face the board.” Aura looked behind her to quickly read him, but his expression was hard to read, so she decided to just continue. “Then, with all your weight on your foot, you - “

The dart flew from her hand with speed, her wrist flicking, and it landed in the outer bull’s eye. She danced for a second before taking a few hefty gulps of her ale. “Your turn.”

Aura handed him a dart and shoved him towards the line that was painted on the floor, taking it upon herself to position him. “Righty, I’m assuming.” Once satisfied with her work, she stepped back. “Alright, go on.”

As she watched, she couldn’t help but begin to prod. “So, I’ve never met anyone in subsection F that didn’t play darts before. I’m guessing you’re from somewhere else.” Another swig of ale. “Your enforcer friend Soren’s a real piece of work. I have at least four scars and a cracked rib from him.”

Not getting anywhere, she handed him his drink once he had finished his turn and met his eyes. He might as well have been made of stone. “Where are you f- ?”

The door to the pub swung open, and as Aura snapped her head to see who had entered, Del burst in, looking panicked.

“Aura!” Her friend weaved through the crowd, pulling her close to him so he could whisper without eavesdroppers. “A runner just came to your door. I explained I was covering for you. Barn was raided. They got Gregor, Marlo, and Slate. They were the only ones left.” He panted for a moment; he must have been running. “They said you had left early. Mae’s was closed and I…”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” she whispered back, gripping his shoulders, but before continuing, the sirens sounded down the streets of Unity, causing near silence to fill the bar. Fifteen minute warning. “I’m coming, just give me a second.”

There wasn’t enough time to get what she needed from the man. The perfect opportunity, and it was ruined, but it was possible with the arrests that Gregor would forget about her assignment...or at least she hoped. She approached the man once again, this time clinking her glass with his. “Well, that’s my cue. No trains run this late, so maybe I’ll see you tomorrow. Next drink’s on me instead of on you.”

“Come on, Aura,” Del urged her.

“Bye, mystery man.” And with that, Aura and Del fled the bar, walking speedily down the sidewalk.

“Who was that?” her friend asked, scanning the streets as they continued.

“I’m not too sure,” she responded, watching as well. Although there was a curfew, Unity’s streets became a dangerous place, especially for a woman to be. The last time she had walked alone close to curfew, she outran four men all the way to the front door of the housing unit. She was thankful Del found her.

“What did you hear about Gregor and them?” Aura got out between staggered breaths.

“Just took them in for questioning. The runner didn’t seem to think they had anything solid. Should be back tomorrow.”

“Then why were you so freaked out?”

“Because you have a mouth on you,” he chuckled, “and you’d make everything worse.”

Aura punched his arm. “Fuck you… but you’re right.”

With three minutes to spare before curfew, the two said their goodnights and went their separate ways. Aura scrubbed her face in the sink, then plopped into her cot to ruminate on the day.

It was going to be a problem that the runner spoke with Del. He shouldn’t have known anything about the cause, and now, he was possibly in danger thanks to her.

Then her mystery man that slipped through her fingers. She didn’t even get him name. It was pathetic, and the guilt of failing the cause sat heavy in her stomach. To save face, she wouldn’t even report the occurrence to Gregor and the others, not until she had something more concrete, if she’d even get that. It was a long shot she would even see him again, but the thought of disappointing the cause yet again was terrifying.

Aura had just been released from the AE, and before she could make it home, she was grabbed in the street and dragged to the back of Mae’s tavern, immediately tied to a wooden chair.

”What did you tell the AE?” Gregor began, cracking his knuckles.

“N-nothing, they just think I was taking money, I swear!” Fear had overcome her, and her body vibrated intensely.

The back of Gregor’s hand connected with her face, the familiar sting radiating to the back of her skull. “It’s better to spill now, Aura.” The other rebels in the room remained glued in their positions on either side of him. “What did you tell them?”

Aura shook her head, fighting back the tears that were welling in her eyes. “I swear, I didn’t say shit, Gregor, please - “ She was interrupted by a hand gripping her throat, squeezing tightly, causing her to gasp for breath.

Gregor studied her pleading eyes intensely for what felt like an eternity before finally releasing her. “She’s telling the truth, boys. Move along.” As Aura caught her breath, the two men left the room, and he started to work on the knots binding her to the chair.

“Good girl.”

Aura blew out the candle on her trunk that illuminated the compact room, allowing herself to succumb to the darkness and the ale she drank that evening, the face of her target clear in her head. I’ll find you.

Kieran leaned in closely—watching this Aura as she made her way through what seemed to be a somewhat stilted lesson in the game of darts. And if he was being honest, he found it a little hard to focus.

He had remembered that he hadn’t eaten today; something he did rather often during the course of a shift of work. There was so much to do; so much to accomplish, that food had become almost a luxury to him.

But no—not a luxury. That would imply he enjoyed it. Rather, Kieran spent most of his evenings approaching food like one would approach an animal in a hunt. Something to be dealt with quickly as to not prolong the event any longer than was necessary.

All of this came to mind to Kieran as blood rushed to his extremities and his face grew blush. He had drank too much, too quickly, and with too empty a stomach—and was remiss as to admit, at least to himself, that he was a bit of a lightweight. He would have blushed regardless of his sobriety, downed the rest of his glass of rum, and continued to watch.

Aura had a bit of a calm demeanor to her; something disquieting about her approach. She was obvious, of course. But perhaps intentionally. Kieran had grown so used to seeking out people that would have otherwise become a threat to him that he was confident Aura wasn’t trying to be particularly coy. And, now with the drink in him, Kieran thought to himself that perhaps not everything was a game. Perhaps this was just a game of darts. And for a moment, he tried to turn his fight-or-flight reflex off and just enjoy a game of darts.

Kieran watched closely and spoke as little as possible as Aura threw the darts ahead. Fuck, she’s good, he couldn’t help but think, as he watched her effortlessly nail her targets. It was a good amount of precision, and Kieran was sure he would be fucking it up here shortly.

Aura placed the dart into his hand and set him towards the target. He was able to throw two that hit the board—each in places where Kieran was unsure whether or not they counted as earned points—and one which would strike the weakened timber that lined the walls of the tavern.

“Well, shit,” Kieran thought and spoke, essentially simultaneously. He listened to her make the clear observation that he wasn’t from subsection F, and thought for a moment the best way to approach.

“I’m not usually around here, yeah,” he admitted, but dropped the matter entirely as she spoke about the AE enforcer. Soren. He noted the name.

“I wouldn’t call him a friend,” he admitted. He thought again about how much to reveal, in what order, and to what depth.

As fate would have it, though, he wouldn’t need to worry long.

A man burst through the bustling crowd and pulled Aura close to him. They spoke in frightened whispers, and before he knew it, Aura wished him farewell and bolted from the scene as the curfew sirens blared.

Kieran felt less than enthused about the entire evening. He had been exhausted—caught off-guard by this Aura character, now sufficiently buzzed, and left over-analyzing the situation. Everything about today had been off-kilter; wrong from his typical day.

So he quickly moved back into the streets and made his way back to his home. It was only an hour and a half walk, and despite being stopped by AE members a few times, he was able to get past with the flick of his runner’s stamp and general aloofness.

It was near-midnight by the time the thick smell of saltwater and sulfur once again filled his nostrils. He had returned to Port Apex; tired, weak, and ready for some sleep.

His home, or so he thought of it as, was little more than a few shipping containers he was able to pawn off from the port boys some time ago. However, over the years, he had made quite a few modifications to them.

He approached the edge of the port and slipped down the usual causeway that lead to a small isthmus on the edge of the port’s shores. Here, his four shipping containers; arranged in a two-by-two pattern, stood just five feet from the murky waters on two sides.

He unlatched the door and moved inside; locking it quickly behind him.

He thought to himself in the dark momentarily, considering what options the evening had really presented him with.

His first instinct was to drop Atlantic—pay it no mind and refuse any task that crossed its borders. He would lose work, sure, but until he could be sure the time would pass where his appearance drew heads, that could be a good option.

His second thought was a bit more cruel than the first. He could approach this Soren that Aura had spoken of. Ask for more information. But perhaps that would result in yet another summary execution.

And further still did he think about the man he talked to in the tavern today. His instincts driving him to survive. How useless his life had been in the end. Collapsed like a sack of bricks in the street.

Apex was a cruel place. And Kieran could understand disliking it. Rebelling, even. But—

No, he thought to himself. Don’t go down that road.

Kieran headed to bed immediately and had no trouble sleeping this evening. But his last thought was on the man in the street. On Aura. And whether or not he would keep his commitment to stay out of Atlantic for the time being.

Something within him, subconscious or otherwise, knew he wouldn’t be gone for long.

5:00 AM. Another semi-warm shower. Another nod to Del. Another day on street clean-up.

The day was much more overcast than the last, with little pockets of rainfall pouring down throughout the day, causing Aura to take cover until they passed. One lasting particularly long, she took cover under a pawn shop’s awning, picking her nails and surveying the streets before her. If she was honest, she was hoping to sight the man from last night, but as the end of the day neared, she gave up hope.

A runner she recognized as friendly to the cause passed her, quietly mumbling “they’ve been released. Meeting in the fields at six.” As soon as he said it, he was gone around the corner.

Aura took a deep breath. While she had always admired Gregor’s passion, it sometimes led them down a darker path, especially when he felt wronged. The last time they had baselessly arrested some of their members, they had set fire to one of the buildings the AE used as a headquarters. There was no use in getting herself worked up, though; she’d have to wait until 6:00pm to see what he was planning.



“Thank you for gathering on such short notice,” Gregor spoke quietly, but sternly, his commanding timbre captivating those in front of him. The crowd around him sat or crouched in silence, allowing the tall wheat stocks around them to shield the group from any onlookers. The breeze whipped through the field, causing a continuous rustling around them.

“They tried to get whatever they could out of us last night. They got nothing, and finally released us when they realized they’d have to feed us if they held us any longer.” Gregor’s eyes, one donning blue and purple bruises, landed on Aura briefly, then continued to scan the rest. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they try to pick off more of us. We need to be more vigilant than ever. And for now, operations will be need-to-know for now.” Murmurs rose, but he put his hands up in response. “You know we are all about transparency. This is just to keep you safe in the upcoming weeks. The AE seems to be getting pressure from their bosses that they need to crack down, so we need to as well.”

The group nodded in response.

“Good. Now, I need about ten to fifteen volunteers. The rest of you, stagger out of here and go home.”

As much as her gut told her to leave, it wasn’t possible. She had worked too long to prove herself to Gregor and the others to back out now.

It took about ten minutes, each person leaving in a different direction and a minute apart to not draw attention. Her eyes met Mila’s, a woman close to her age, and she scooted towards Aura and wrapped an arm around her. The rest gathered closer to Gregor to await their instruction.

“Tonight, we attack.”



As Aura got dressed, Gregor’s directions played over and over in her head.

”Black, loose clothing. Cover your faces. Hide your hair in a hat. No visible tattoos or jewelry.”

Anticipation and nerves, along with the familiar feeling with hunger in her stomach had her feeling nauseous, but Gregor had promised some bread and a drink before they set out on their operation, and that would have to be enough. Aura stuffed her bag with a black bandana, a large black hoodie, and a knit black beanie, checked herself in the 6” x 6” mirror she had, then quietly clicked her door shut. It was two hours before curfew, and she was sure many of the buildings residents were fast asleep by now.

Click. Click. Click. her nails tapped on the cold steel

Del snapped opened his door and Aura tumbled inside.

“What does he have you doing?! You look - “

“I know, I know,” Aura whispered. “I may not be back before curfew. If not, I’ll find somewhere to sleep until the morning. Just don’t come looking for me, okay?”

“Aura, I -”

“Promise me,” she begged, sticking a pinkie finger out, and her friend reluctantly grabbed it with his.

“Fine. Just please be careful.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Del,” she nodded, gripping his shoulders. “Thank you.”



The group gathered at a fellow volunteer’s house, a quaint, slanted cottage close to her father’s. As promised, Gregor had brought them rum and bread, both most likely stolen. The warmth of alcohol pulsed through Aura’s veins, awakening the rebel deep inside her. She was ready to carry out their mission, to follow orders, to cause the AE to feel at least an ounce of pain that they had to endure.

Gregor approached her, snatching the bottle from her handles and taking a swig. “I can count on you, right?”

“O-of course,” she pushed out, unsure of the nerves that came with the sentiment.

“Good girl. You’ve been with me for years. I knew you wouldn’t fail me now.” Gregor placed the rum back into her hands and removed a stray piece of hair from her face, his eyes remaining locked on her as he did. “Be careful out there tonight.”

Aura quickly nodded, dismissing his attention and instead taking another drink from the bottle. The longer that it took for them to head out, the intenser her nerves grew, now sitting like a rock in her stomach.

About forty-five minutes after gathering, the first warning siren sounded throughout the subsection, heard from each corner of its limits. ”One hour until curfew,” a robotic voice boomed following a shrill alarm.

The group of eighteen poured out of the home, single-file, weaving through a field until they felt solid concrete beneath their feet. Thunder roared overhead, and Aura couldn’t help but think it was the sky cheering them on.

“Into positions,” Gregor whispered sharply. “Stop for no one. Only retreat when you’re out of ammunition.”

Without any response, the group quickly dispersed, heading to their appointed posts. Aura was assigned to the roof of Mae’s tavern, a spot she had only been for pleasure before. Was she desecrating it now by bringing her hatred there?

It began to drizzle as the next alarm sounded, ricocheting off the storefronts. ”Thirty minutes until curfew.” This was when many of the officers came out onto the streets, ready to punish anyone who wasn’t on their way home. Or really, ready to punish whoever they felt like that night.

Whether it was adrenaline or the mask, Aura was breathing heavily, her eyes darting back and forth as she watched the road below her. Citizens were bustling down the sidewalks, hoping to make it home without any trouble, an occasional officer shoving someone who they deemed to be walking too slowly.

It wasn’t long before the final siren went off, the one with no robot voice. Just the piercing, terrible note.

It was time.

The streets had mostly cleared, allowing a couple of officers to meet on the intersection, and Aura could hear their ignorant chortles over the thunder that boomed. She laid down on her stomach, swung her gun around, and positioned it so that only a couple inches of its barrel hung off of the lip of the rooftop. The officers were perfectly framed by her iron sight.

Gregor’s blaring whistle shot through the air, causing the officer’s to look around in confusion.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Aura closed her eyes as she squeezed the trigger, not opening them until she heard a painful grunt from the ground. An officer sat on the ground gripping his arm. The others drew their guns, pointing their guns as they looked around, obviously not knowing where the assault originated.

Other officers that must have been shot at blocks down began to charge toward the group in front of her, and they created a circle around their injured colleague. “COME OUT! NOW!”

Their instructions prompted more fire, and the officers shot blindly in response. Aura ducked until there was a pause, and she anxiously peered over the lip of the roof. Three were down, nine still standing, but surely more were on the way.

From Gregor’s post catty-corner from her, shooting resumed, knocking down another two officers. Then silence.

In order to reposition herself, Aura grabbed the edge of the roof to hoist herself up, but the old construction crumbled from the pressure, and a chunk of concrete tumbled down to the sidewalk. Fuck.

“Up there!”

As gunfire began, Aura crawled hastily towards the ladder and slid down, breaking into a sprint as soon as she hit the ground. She had to get home, or at least, out of Atlantic, without getting a bullet in the back.

Six more blocks. Six more blocks then she’d be back to her room. Keep running. Keep running.

Between the rain and blackness of the night, Aura had not noticed a figure on the sidewalk until she had crashed into them, causing them both to tumble down on the wet concrete. “You shouldn’t go down there,” the woman huffed and puffed, “the officers…”

It took a moment, but she finally recognized the man she had tumbled on top of. Mystery man. The man who may as well have been an enforcer. Quickly, she scrambled to a standing position, pointing her gun at him and snapping her eyes between him and behind her.

What would she do? She had been caught red-handed. If she was linked to this attack, she’d be executed by dawn. Think, Aura.

“She’s down there!” A shout came from a block back. She had no more time.

Aura shoved the barrel of the gun into the man’s stomach, hoping her dominance would outweigh the fact that he towered over her. “Into the alleyway up ahead. Go!”

As they cleared its entryway, she dragged him by the shirt deep into the alley, pulling him behind a dumpster and instructing him to sit. “Don’t move.” She removed the mask from her face, enjoying her first unhindered breath, and she brought a sleeve to her forehead to remove the mixture of sweat and rain. The gun stayed trained on the man.

Where could she bring him? It’d be too risky to take him home. Too many witnesses. It took only a few moments until the idea, although it was horrible, came to her. She’d have to bring him to her father’s house until the morning. Or… at least she could convince him not to report her. Or kill her.

As soon as the group of enforcers that were tailing her had ran past the alleyway, Aura signaled for the man to get up. “Let’s go.”

Kieran’s eyes widened to some sort of large, granite surface.

Stone—polished by millions of years of erosion—bore some sort of strange, jagged shape upon it. As if carvings once etched into these walls had been torn and scarred by some great weapon.

Kieran found himself standing in a field, just about a half mile from this massive stone surface, and could scarely see the top of the massive mountain. As he looked to see where the foggy evening sky ended and the summit began, he could hear terrible noises from behind him.

He turned to see scores of men, women, and children—clawing and crawling their way towards him, or rather, towards the mountain itself. They pulled and pulled at the dirt between them, Kieran, and the mountain, but found it softer and softer in texture, until it resembled more of a muddy, crimson tide.

Kieran moved forward towards them, but found his boot was ankle-deep in the same red muck. The more he fought, the more he sank, and soon still did he stop moving.

But the people did not stop. They pulled and clawed and sunk deeper into the mud, until the last of them had sank beneath the crimson tide.

Only then did Kieran wake up.



The images in Kieran’s dreams stayed with him long after he had risen and traveled to meet Honeyman for his morning assignments. Red-stained faces. The mountain. The etchings.

He wasn’t a particularly religious or even symbolic man, and yet he still couldn’t shake an almost prophetic since from the images he saw. Everything about this week wasn’t adding up. Aura. The man shot dead in the street. The unrest growing in Atlantic. He had seen and done so many repugnant things but for some strange reason, thing had seemed to hit a turning point.

Honeyman’s stark tone at their meeting did little to assuage his feelings.

“You’ve been given a Recurring,” he nearly spat at Kieran at the onset of their meeting. He hadn’t even given him a warning. “I figure we shouldn’t drag this out longer than it needs to be.”

To say it was bad news to be given a Recurring would be a gross understatement. To the Runners, a Recurring task was one that often came right from the top; Apex Authority would often have some bone to pick with some revenant soul in some far away district that would need ‘silencing,’ or worse; espionage.

Recurrings, as they were called, deeply eroded the strange and fragile trust held between the Runners and the people they served. Recurrings where when the Runners were taken from their politically neutral positions and placed right into the thick of an ongoing and often existential crisis.

Fail to complete your Recurring, and disbarment was not out of the question. It wasn’t uncommon for one failed task such as this to sink a Runner back into the muck of the lower classes. And it wasn’t that Kieran or other Runners looked down towards those in Atlantic, or any of those subjugated by AA.

It was that being a Runner was the only way that most could find a way above the fray.

Still, there were benefits for completing these questionable tasks.

“I’ll open with the good news,” Honeyman continued. “At the end of this recurring you’ll be bumped to Subsection A.”

“Holy shit.”

“I know,” he continued. “I don’t even have full clearances for A. You lucky bastard.”

“Alright then,” Kieran anxiously cut in. “The bad news.”

Honeyman took a deep breath.

“…you need to embed yourself in an organization. Terrorist group, specifically. Out in Atlantic.”

Of. Fucking. Course.

Honeyman slipped over a dossier. “You’ll be in deep, as deep as you can be. AE officers in Atlantic won’t be briefed. Make the wrong moves and you’ll be killed with the rest of them. Which is why you’re being given this.”

Kieran looked down to see Honeyman slip a mahogany box across the table. He already knew what he would find inside; but that didn’t keep him from the smallest of gasps when he opened the box to see a Black Seal.

The Black Seal was the holy grail of immunity. Each seal was numbed, and should you show your seal and correctly state your number and a passcode, it could be verified by a ledger given to AE members each morning. The intricate seal was carved from wood unlike any that grew in the region. It was an elegant system to verify that your actions were official AA business.

Having a Black Seal meant no curfews. It meant immediate AE immunity. Access to government buildings, to records, to vehicles…there were few upper limits to what a Black Seal could get you into.

“I’m only authorized to say this one time, so be sure you hear me, K.” Honeyman said. “Your passcode is ’monacle.’”

Monacle, Kieran repeated in his head a few times. He was sure to remember it.

“You won’t be seeing me at our usual meetings anymore,” Honeyman said. “In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if you never see me again. Once you accomplish your mission and give up this organization, you’ll go straight to AA to inform them. From there, you’ll be transferred to Subsection A.”

“What if I don’t complete the Recurring?” Kieran asked.

“…goodbye, Kieran.”



That morning found Kieran studying every inch of his dossier.

In his makeshift living space, he held a small lantern up to bring illumination into his small storage container home. He sat on his bed, a musky mix of old tarps and string, and read each name closely.

From what he could gather, Apex Authority didn’t have a name for this organization, but only a list of locations and names ranked from most likely to least likely to be involved in foul play.

Locations he wasn’t familiar with, like a tavern or a slanted cottage on the edge of town. Names too, such as Miranda. Del. Gregor. All ranked on a spectrum of likely to be involved, with a few marked as possible leaders.

He studied for hours and hours, writing down short notes on his own sheet of paper, before finally feeling as if he had memorized all that he could.

Then, he walked outside, set the dossier into the lantern, and watched it burn.

For a mission as secretive as this, this paper was nothing but trouble.

He moved next to load his messenger bag with the essentials. A change of clothes. Money. A pistol and a dagger, in case he needed them.

He went to tell one of the dock boys to watch his shit in case he didn’t return that evening, and departed for Atlantic.



He arrived in the evening, as he had intended.

He had taken the long way to Atlantic, maneuvering north and nearly into the downtown district, before taking a train down into the main station within the subsection.

He ran though who he was over, and over, and over again. His name was Kieran. He was a Runner. These elements were true.

He was low on clients. He wanted to branch out and thought it was worth infringing on another Runner’s territory. That was the lie.

Telling Aura or any others this element would give them a sense of power over Kieran. It would hopefully lead them to trust him as they could easily betray him in turn. In reality, any Runner coming to accuse Kieran of invading their territory could easily be paid off by way of the Black Seal.

It wasn’t a perfect plan, or really much of a plan at all. But it was what he had.

He wandered his way through the streets, taking note of the street names and building names. This was the boring element of the job. Taking stock. Preparing. Learning. He would need to find an inn for the night, but for now, it was going to be a long night of walking.

As curfew approached, Kieran found himself stopped once or twice by AE officers. For them, he used his Runner’s stamp and talked his way out of their grasp. The fewer people he showed the Black Seal, the better. It was a last resort, as anyone looking in his direction may spot him with it. Who knows that they may do to him should they see it.

But as he continued to pace down the district as the final curfew tolled, he couldn’t help but begin to think on the day.

He had, without much hesitation at all, agreed to spy on these people. He would be asking for names. Bribing people. Likely sentencing people to their deaths.

He thought of the man crumpled in the street. He thought of his dream, and the men and women crawling in the muck. He thought of Aura.

If he had gotten this group captured and arrived in subsection A, what would he do?

He would be there—alone—doing what had always done. Survived.

Was that all he would ever do?

CRASH!

His thoughts were interrupted as he was thrown clean off his feet and down to the ground. He had been so engrossed in thought and in his paces, he hadn’t paying much attention to the loud pops that had echoed in the nights. Sounds that were clearly gunshots.

Nor did he notice the black figure sprinting towards him. Until, of course, it was already too late.

”FUCK!” He cried out as his side smashed into the asphalt. Luckily for him, his bag had stayed shut. His eyes moved next to the woman next to him.

“You shouldn’t go down there,” the woman huffed and puffed, “the officers…”

Wait—

“Aura?”

As he stood and recognized Aura, he briefly thought to his dossier. Her name hadn’t been on it, as far as he could remember.

But all too quickly, she pressed a gun into his stomach, and any doubts about her involvement dissipated.

He sprinted along, following her orders, sitting when she ordered him to sit. All the while, he tried to think of the person she had spoken to in the tavern the night before. Were they involved too?

Her actions had pushed him right back into his survival instincts, which now told him to follow her lead, learn more about whatever organization she’s a part of, and stab her in the back as soon as he could. Figuratively, if things played out well. Literally, if they didn’t. Now wasn’t the time for dream analysis and second-guessing the mission.

She had him stand again and led them away from the pursuing AE officers in the area. Only then did he decide to speak up.

“Aura, right?” he asked rhetorically. “I’m a Runner. I have a stamp. We can run and hide all night or you can let me tell the nearest guard you’re with me and I can take you wherever you need to go.”

He figured she wouldn’t take him up on his offer, of course. But trust had to start somewhere, and he hoped she would remember the incident with the man yesterday and believe his story.

And in his defense, he really was going to honor his word, if she would take that fucking pistol off of him.

The trek to her father’s house was a blur, adrenaline and uncertainty pumping through Aura with each beat of her heart clapping in her ears. To keep her hostage from returning to her family home, she tossed her sweater over his head and guided him by looping one arm through his, while the other kept the gun pointed towards him. The rain had picked up, and the dirt floor of the crop fields had turned into a thick stretch of mud, causing her boots to stick with each step.

Bam. Bam. Bam.

The heavy wooden door only creaked open a couple of an inches with an eye peeking out.

“It’s me.”

Her father sighed, not opening the door any further. “What have you done?”

“I need the garage tonight. And two changes of clothes.” Moments passed, with only silence and the patter of the rain to fill the void. “Please… I’m sorry.”

“Be out by dawn,” he huffed, followed by snapping the door shut. The man returned moments later with a sack that he tossed to her, giving no time for another word between them before shutting the door once again.

Once entering the garage, Aura forced the man into a seated position on the floor and removed her sweater from his head. The garage, detached by a few hundred feet from the home, held a tractor and other machinery, along with an array of tools that lined the back wall, a fold out cot, and a wooden desk. She hastily lit a couple of candles until the garage was illuminated with a dim, yellow light, then she grabbed a retrieved from the wall and threw it over her shoulder.

“You’re changing first,” she instructed, shoving a plain, large t-shirt and cotton pants into the man’s hands, taking his bag in response and kicking it across the floor towards the cot. Her hand that held the gun trembled, unsure if it was from the frigid rain or her nerves, but her eyes shot to the ground in an attempt to give the man some privacy.

Once finished, she tied his arms behind him around a support beam that sat in the center of the garage, then grabbed her own change of clothes. These must have been Ion’s, her younger brother, who towered over her much like the mystery man. She put the large t-shirt on, then slipped the wet clothes beneath off of her, then slid on the pants, then took their wet clothes and draped them over a chair to dry.

What would her endgame be here? If she let him go, he could kill her - or worse, notify the AA of her treason. He knew her name already… that she had family. She should have just shot him in the street when she had the chance.

Aura felt around in his bag and removed the gun, placing it gently on the ground next to hers. Next his paperwork, which for now, she just glanced over before setting placing them on the cot.

So,” she sighed, crouching down in front of him. “A runner, huh?” Her eyes scanned him in curiosity. “Why are you in F?” Before continuing, Aura realized that she still hadn’t had her one question answered since she had seen the man in front of Mae’s tavern.

“What’s your name?”

Kieran continued to be accosted as he was held at gunpoint and continued to be pushed further and further from the town square. As she pushed him, Kieran made a note of every building, every street, and every inch of the area—until of course, she tossed a sweater over her head.

“Fucking really,” Kieran muttered, unsure and uncaring if she had heard the comment. Luckily, the smell wasn’t so bad, if it weren’t for the sweat that had already been dripping down his face. He continued to trudge forward through the humid, muddy night. He tried to keep some sense of his bearings and figured they had gone maybe a ten or so blocks before he heard her bang thrice on a door.

He listened intently to the conversation Aura shared with a third voice. This one gruff, uncaring but…rather familiar. He figured this could be a close friend, or possibly a relative. He was unsure and would be sure to figure that one out later. As for now he ran through the facts.

This was Aura; likely associated with the same group the others were. She was armed. He had heard gunshots. Likely this all would have been enough to get her arrested (assuming he survived the night) but that wasn’t his mission, was it?

He hated himself in some small way for thinking this way. He wasn’t a spy, for fuck’s sake—he was a runner, and his business was passing along shit and keeping a low profile.

Nothing about all of this seemed right. Apex Authority were no heroes. These so-called freedom fighters broke a strange peace and got others killed in their wake. The more he thought, the less he felt like picking any side in this horrid mess.

He expected blinding light when she removed the sweater from his head, but the dimness of the room was a simple sight to be acclimated to.

He locked eyes with her—looking down, of course, as she was several inches to a foot shorter—and could immediately spot something he was familiar with.

Fear.

He didn’t see a fearless terrorist. He saw someone terrified out of their fucking mind about what was going on. Which immediately lowered his guard and put him at ease. If he played his cards right, he might not be the real hostage here.

As she tossed clothes in his hands, she took his bag and was sure to kick it hard away from them—which immediately put him at ease. He had been particularly careful to burn all evidence of the current mission and keep the Black Seal on his person rather than in an easily-stolen bag. In there wasn’t much other than the usual ID papers and runner’s stamp.

He gave he a cold look; wondering if she was going to watch him change. He watched her eyes dart to the floor, before removing his clothes. He was glad to be out of them, really. What a sweaty mess he was at this point. He made a point to turn his back to her and straighten out his underwear—ensuring Aura’s eyes stayed away—and slipped the Black Seal from his trousers to his underwear. Uncomfortable indeed. He figured he would bet on her holding back on asking him to be completely naked. If she didn’t he figured he’d have to find a good way to lie.

He placed the rest of the clothes on him and was tied promptly to a pole. He looked away as Aura changed, and watched her dig through his things.

”So,” she sighed, crouching down in front of him. “A runner, huh? Why are you in F? What’s your name?”

He figured he’d tackle her questions one at a time. He made sure to make clear eye contact through the sweat dripping down his face. Fuck, it was hot in here.

“Yeah, a runner,” he said simply. “3B149, feel free to verify that on the sheet.” He straightened up against the pole; trying to ward off a pain growing his back. “I have a couple of clients take me this far and was back in town to collect. Sure, I’m not supposed to be in F, but hey; what were you up to after curfew?”

He always laughed the last half of his sentence; breaking into a smile. His captor was looking increasingly shaky and tense; not great when she was two guns on her. He figured he could lean into his recent deal with Teegan and Cale and could get them to verify his story to Aura if need be.

“I’m Kieran,” he smiled. “And I’m very much not looking to die tonight, so if we could work something out, I’m all ears.”

While he was miles from trusting Aura, particularly now, he was certainly hoping to make an ally of her, after all. He wasn't exactly sure of the benefits of the alternative, but it certainly wouldn't be good for him, would it?

“Kieran,” she mumbled in response. His demeanor was the most unnerving thing about him. He was calm and smiling, while Aura did everything she could to choke down the nausea bubbling in her stomach.

She had taken a runner hostage. A runner. The weight of her actions began to sink deep in her stomach, the heat of the garage beginning to suffocate the oxygen from the room. Aura dashed to the window, threw it open, and allowed herself a deep gulp of breath from the cooler air that poured in.

Could she somehow get a message to Gregor? Explain she had fucked up and that she needed help?

The thought of his temper made Aura shut down the thought instantly. No, she’d have to figure a way out of this herself. She couldn’t lose her spot in the cause. They were her last chance of getting out of F for good. The only place she fit in.

But if the man got free, he would shoot her. If he didn’t shoot her, he’d run until he could report her.

She was dead in the water in every outcome imaginable.

Aura turned from the window and moved to stand in front of him, hiding her trembling hands in the pockets of Ion’s pants. “I won’t -” Due to nerves, her voice left her body as a whisper. Get it together.

“I won’t kill you,” she responded, now reflecting a more confident tone. “I just…”

How could she get him on her side, at least long enough for her to figure out a plan?

“You, the mystery man, catch me in the middle of a firefight with an AR in my hands.” She chuckled, wiping her forehead to rid it of sweat. “That would normally sound like a really fun night for me. But you’re,” Aura finally gained courage to look up at him, “you’re a runner. You may as well be an enforcer.”

Aura grabbed an empty pail from the corner and opened the garage door. “I’ll be right back.”

She soon returned, the pail now full of water. Before dealing with it, she plopped down and began to work her fingers at the laces of her sopping boots, groaning when each foot finally broke free.

“Thirsty?”

Without waiting for an answer, Aura grabbed the pail and approached him, lifting it to Kieran’s lips.

Once done, she took a few gulps of it herself before making herself comfortable on the floor across from him.

“You want to leave here alive. As do I. And if I’m reported, you may as well kill me now.” Aura scanned his face hoping for any hint of weakness, but the man was made of stone. Asshole. “So Kieran, what would you do if you were in my position?”

Kieran’s eyes locked onto Aura’s dark eyes, watching as she slowly unraveled.

He felt sorry for her, really.

And it wasn’t pitying he felt; in some way, it was similar to how he had been before he was a runner. Scavenging with the other port boys. Looked at as less of a human and more of a pest to be chased off when AA came around.

Now, he was the one empowered. And thinking of going back scared the shit out of him.

He loosened, somewhat, as he watched Aura run for air. He felt bad, in a strange way, for being so cold—for intimidating him. Which was particularly strange, as he found himself the captor in this situation. It was either empathy or a survival instinct that softened him somewhat, but regardless, he tried to relax. Well, as best he could.

”I won’t kill you,” she said between breaths. He made a sort of scoffing noise without thinking, more so out of incredulousness. It really was that tense of a situation, wasn’t it?

He eyed her quizzically, as she explained that this might have been a fun evening under different circumstances. For all of his experience and quick analyzing, he wasn’t able to get much of a read on her here.

As she continued, he found himself grimacing at her conflation between running and being an enforcer. It was true, in a way—and similarly, it disgusted him. The longer this went on, the worse he felt. His survival instincts were wearing off and he realized he had walked into a skirmish far more complex than he was giving it credit for. He had assumed a monolith of the rebels; and now he could see that really wasn’t the case.

If it was, he’d already be dead by now. The necessary killing of law enforcement to further the cause.

But here she was—lifting a pail to him. He drank deeply, as long as she allowed, and thanked her. She sat across from him, and the momentary silence between them was deafening.

She explained her position and asked him for advice, and he froze for a moment; considering all of his options.

The more he thought, the less he liked how he had started his meeting. Or this evening, for that matter.

With Aura—fuck it—he needed at least one person truly in his corner if he was to infiltrate this group. Might as well be as honest as he could be.

“If I were you, which I’m not,” Kieran started, thinking aloud, “and I were working with a sort of rebellion, which I’m not even sure if you are or not…and I captured me? Someone with authority in Apex? Shit…”

He didn’t finish the thought. He figured she could read his morose expression.

“I won’t report you,” Kieran admitted. Truthful. “I mean—you don’t know me, and I could be lying through my teeth, but for what it’s worth, I won’t. And I get the sense that you haven’t killed anyone before…” his voice wavered. A flood of memories hit him and he physically shook his head to try not to go down that path. “And believe me as much as you can, you don’t want to do that.”

Kieran sighed and paused—giving him one last out to avoid being honest. But that moment wasn’t very long.

He would give her some very good reasons not to trust him.

“I’ll come right out with it. I’m here to scout. To find people likely similar to those who had you in the streets tonight. I don’t know much. Some locations. Some names. Del. Gregor. Those sorts of things. I don’t know how well you know these people or how involved you are, but if I can convince AA I helped root out a rebellion, well…” He paused. “Well I’d be out of the docks, that’s for sure.”

He thought for a moment, then continued. “So, maybe we can build some trust. You know this area; you know the problem people. I figure the fewer instigators there are, the more likely they’ll leave Atlantic well enough alone and life in all of F will be better for everyone. There are more enforcers here than I’ve seen anywhere else in Apex and I think maybe fewer enforcer shootings would help reduce that number.”

He couldn’t read her face, but something told him suggesting taking down the rebellion she was clearly sympathetic towards wasn’t coming across well. Hopefully being honest didn’t fuck him over this time...

“Aura...” he continued. “I’m not pro or anti either side here. My loyalty to Apex only extends to my ability to survive. I’d like to see fewer killings and convince AA I helped do their dirty work, so I’m all ears on any suggestions that’ll lead me to that end. Because if I don’t do this for them...well you may as well shoot me now.”

“Del’s not fucking -”

Aura’s knee-jerk reaction further proved why she often wasn’t trusted by the cause with situations like this. It took just a moment though to gain back what little composure she had previously.

“You must have some bad information. Del’s not involved in any of this.”

Guilt began to creep up her spine. Taking advantage of his niceness to cover her ass had obviously landed him on one of the AA’s list, and although Aura always knew it was a possibility, hearing it made it real.

Kieran presented her with an out, one that made the impossibly difficult situation she put herself even worse. While the cause was all she had left, she couldn’t leave if she wanted to. The only way out of the group was to die honorably, or die a traitor. Gregor and others high in the rankings did not have one ounce of trust between them all, and it only made sense to them that if anyone no longer wanted anything to do with the cause, they had to have an ulterior motive. Death was the only way to cover their own asses. And while they’ve taken great care of Aura, she had been on their bad side before. She was unsure if she’d rather be punished again by them or by an officer, but she at least knew the cause wouldn’t harm her family. Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said for the AE.

This was the only choice.

Most days, Aura just wished she could leave. To pack what little belongings she had and to head for the mountains in the middle of the night. Of course, she had heard rumors that it was only more grim out of Apex’s limits, that there is nothing out there for those that try to leave. But other rumors, those that there are groups of people living freely past the mountains. No authority, no enforcers...that was the fantasy that Aura desperately clung to when things got too heated in Unity.

“So, you want me to rat,” Aura sighed, pushing back stringy strands of black hair from her vision. “You know what they do to rats here, right?”

Remaining seated on the floor, she swiveled around and lifted her shirt to reveal pink scars that resembled lightning strikes down her back. “One of the times that Soren took one of our guys in, he made it sound like I had given them info. The officers like to stir shit up to try and dismantle us…”

Upon realizing that she was saying too much already, Aura’s face landed in her palms and a groan escaped her.

“Guess you got me. But, I need some guarantees.” She straightened up her posture and met his eyes. “If you name me in anything, they won’t hesitate to deliver my head to you in a package. If I help you, it has to be from an unidentified source.” It sounded ridiculous to be demanding anything knowing that Kieran could throw her to the wolves at any time.

“Second, if I’m figured out, I have to get out of F. I don’t know how much power you have and I don’t care. I’ll need new papers and a new subsection. And lastly,” she took a moment to catch her breath; the heat was growing unbearable whether from her nerves or the rain. Her voice trembled with emotion no matter how much she tried to control it. “I can’t be seen with you, now that I know who you are. Figure out where or how we can meet, and I’ll do it. I’m probably not welcomed back after this, so it can’t be here.”

A familiar feeling of penitence sat like a rock in her stomach, but this was her only option. Or at least, she couldn’t think of a better one.

“I’ll bring you to the west border of F in the morning. Do we have a deal?”

Kieran studied Aura closely as she talked; looking for any signs that wasn’t speaking honestly to him.

But, if her erratic response to this Del character was to be believed, she wasn’t necessarily great at obfuscation. He had to remind himself that not everyone was like him.

Not everyone was looking to lie and cheat every chance they had.

“Rat is a strong term…” Kieran started, then stopped. He thought for a moment. “But yes. I’d like for you to rat.”

He next listened to her demands.

The first was a simple request; anonymity. An easy sell to AA. Results mattered far more than loyalty to an organization that inherently bred distrust. He needed to deliver a less dangerous Atlantic and they wouldn’t care much about the details. Or, who had to die to ensure that eventuality for them. Kieran knew he wouldn’t throw Aura to the wolves.

Or at least, not unless it really came down to it.

The second request was an escape plan. Again. Another non-issue for him. A quick flash of the seal and he could get her past just about anyone. Hell, he could get her on the next boat headed north and off to whatever it was that existed beyond Apex--should anything of value exist out there at all. It was hard to know and even harder on the mind to wonder.

The third and final request was another easy sell. The two couldn’t be seen with each other so long as they collaborated. Kieran doubted this would be the last time he would be in Atlantic--far from it--but he knew that it was paramount he and her never interacted.

“I think we have a deal, then,” Kieran smiled. He loosened a bit, now more comfortable that he wasn’t going to die that night. He thought for a moment.

“I know where we’ll meet,” he said. “There’s a series of old retrograde tunnels on the southeast corner of Atlantic. I’m sure you’ve seen them.”

He had initially thought of asking her to meet him at his place, but had discarded that plan as quick as he had formed it. The idea of Aura being able to so easily rat him out to her compatriots wasn’t appealing, so he needed somewhere he knew somewhat well and remained neutral to both of them.

The tunnels had formerly housed settlements avoiding exposure to the blight, and before that, they had held massive roadways for the city--funneling in people from god knows where else in the world. Whatever was beyond the waters. Kieran thought of what it must have been like to ride one of these passive concrete passages.

But the bridges that had crossed the waters east of Apex had long since collapsed, leaving only the tunnels.

These days, the tunnels were mostly utilized for AA transport and other matters. But they had a reputation of being a place where Runners, AE members, and citizens could make deals and trades that Apex Authority probably wouldn’t condone. In many ways, they steered clear of the tunnels as a show of permissible understanding.

Kieran wondered how much of this was known to Aura. Regardless, he continued: “The tunnels are guarded by AE members and lead to subsection J. However, they’re easily bribed and I’ll make sure they are for us. We’ll meet there.”

Kieran took a second to think. Then: “If you tell me the name of your supervisor, I can work some things out about discreetly getting you away in the middle of the day. Otherwise, I’ll be sure to be there after dark and before curfew each night. Make your way to tunnel three and I’ll find you.”

“I’ll work on your papers, too,” he said. “It might take a few days, but it can be done. I know a guy in City Center who can help me out. I’ll see him tomorrow.”

“And speaking of,” he said, settling onto his pole, “it might be worth it to get some sleep.”

As Kieran listed off his orders, Aura struggled to make mental notes of it all, her eyes lazily studying his face, shoulders, and arms as exhaustion had overcome her long before they ever crossed paths. Now, in a matter of an hour, he held her life in his large, rugged hands-

Snapping back into reality as his last statement was made, her eyes widened and she nodded rapidly. “Sleep, yeah.” She stood back up with a groan and dusted her black pants off vigorously to rid them of the dirt that settled long ago on the garage floor. “Don’t try anything,” she grumbled as she squatted behind him and began to work at the knot holding his wrists behind his back. Once loose, she gently tugged his arms until they were free of the rope.

“You run,” she sighed as she headed towards the cot in the corner and unfolded it from the wall until it cracked into place, “and I’ll have a hit out on you by dawn. Plus, I’m a light sleeper.”

While Aura made plenty of idiotic decisions in the past few hours, this may have been the dumbest, but in good conscious, she couldn’t let the man sleep in the position she had him. Hopefully her threat would be enough to keep him in place for the night.

As if a dog curling up on his blanket, she took her time wiggling about until she found a comfortable position to sleep in while being able to keep an eye on him. Once satisfied, she groaned and let her eyes start to flutter. “Good night, Kieran.”



Aura awoke completely startled and almost launched herself off the cot. Father’s garage? Oh yeah. Clothes drying on the chair? Yes, it was raining. Man asleep on the floor? She wished she could forget.

While he remained asleep, she quickly changed into the close from the previous nights and laced her boots quietly, using them to nudge him gently as she towered over him. “Let’s go.”

The walk though the fields was silent, more awkward than any morning she’d had before with a man, and her body remained on full alert the entire time. She had seen herself in the reflection of a glass just before leaving, and she had inconspicuously worked on removing the round smudges of coal that had blurred around her eyes as they stomped along. The sunrise began to peak behind them, and it drenched their surroundings in pink and orange. Aura couldn’t help but peer over her shoulder a few times.

The guard tower was finally visible in the distance.

“I have to stop here,” she panted, planting her feet apart and crossing her arms. Attempting to seem intimidating felt stupid in front of the skyscraper in front of her, but Gregor always said, ”Pretend to be the warrior you want to be.”

The thousands of thoughts racing through Aura’s mind made it hard for her to keep a steady breath and remain present in the moment, but she had fucked up enough to know that she couldn’t - at least in this moment - take back anything that transpired.

“I can meet you in the tunnels tonight,” she offered with a blank expression. “9:00 PM.” In defeat, her eyes shot down to the ground between them. “Bring food. Meat if you can get any. Ale works too.”

Without another word, Aura extended a hand to Kieran. A silent agreement that they both were bonded together by a mutual need. Once they broke off, she shoved his bag in his hand, complete with his gun and paperwork. "Please don't fuck me over, Kieran."

Kieran felt analyzed as he went through his proposed pitch. And it was fair, too, as he was doing something similar.

In Aura’s eyes, other than the clear exhaustion, he felt as if he saw someone more committed to survival than ideology. He had been trying to mentally figure her out all evening, but as he continued to look, the more he could see there was very little difference between the two of them. Two sides of the same coin.

The only difference being he had the upper hand here. So how long would it be before she gained it herself? In many ways, she already had it.

“Appreciate it,” he managed to mutter, caught off-guard by her movements. She had gone to untie him from the pole. Probably a terrible move, but at this point, the two of them were both exhausted. He doubted she wanted to chase him down any more than he wanted to run.

He thought for a moment about leaving in the night. It wouldn’t be too hard to snag his gun and vanish from her life entirely, but the more he played that out, the worse that scenario got. He would be well-known in Atlantic and completely unable to do anything for AA.

And getting on their bad side was the last thing he needed at the moment.

So, he curled up on the floor and closed his eyes, and was out like a rock not a few seconds later.

***

Kieran’s eyes shot open, then closed at the sound of Aura jolting awake. He froze himself; maintaining his breathing and trying his best to appear asleep.

More than once had port boys and other local troublemakers broke into his home in the middle of the night. He would always do the same--feign sleep, then launch out of bed--firing a few rounds strategically at the floor and chasing them out with little issue.

He doubted he needed to do something similar here. He felt tired--worn out by sleeping on the hard floor and struggling to get any real sleep, feeling the need to stay in attack mode more often than not.

But as he listened to Aura intently as she got up and prepared to leave, he didn’t perceive her as much more of a threat than anything else. If anything, they felt more like unwilling associates--two people on either side of a conflict, having to work through a circumstance that came about entirely by chance.

He wondered how this all would have played out if she hadn’t run into him last night. But it was too late for that now.

He next felt a boot against his arm and opened his eyes. Kieran almost chuckled at the sight of her from this angle, at what seemed like a very intentional way of making him feel insectile. But, he refrained from actually laughing. He didn’t feel like getting kicked in the head this morning.

He rose quickly and followed without a word.

As they continued to walk, what had initially felt like a long, awkward pause felt more comfortable. This part of the day was very much necessary, and at this point, the worry Aura would do anything other than lead him back home was completely gone.

As she led the way, he couldn’t help but continue to watch and analyze. Her gait was heavy and she moved quickly. It seemed she wasn’t as comfortable with the silence as he was. Still, Kieran couldn’t help but watch her long, black hair as it flowed behind her. He really admired the way she--

She turned quickly around, assumedly to assure he was still there.

He blushed just a bit, caught off-guard, and from them on, kept his eyes low and to the ground. Mentally, he chastised himself for staring and tried not to think about it further.

She stopped them near a guard tower he was familiar with--the sight of something he had known quickly led him to think of where he probably had spent the night. Still, that information seemed mostly useless in this moment.

“9:00PM,” Kieran repeated. In his mind, he made a list of what needed to be done. Who to pay off. How to get there. What to arrange.

”Bring food. Meat if you can get any. Ale works too.”

His mind stopped at that sentence. Kieran watched Aura’s eyes as they cast downward at the statement.

Was she embarrassed to ask for food?

He wondered how he hadn’t even considered it before. She was thin--sure--but that was no crime, nor much to really think about. His temperament shifted and he was sure it read on his face. He didn’t want to pity her, but asking for something as simple as food had shaken him somewhat.

“I’ll have it,” he said simply. “Not a problem.”

Next, they took hands. What began as a shake lingered perhaps too long as Kieran’s fingers grazed hers as he let her hand go.

”Please don’t fuck me over, Kieran.”

“I won’t,” came his simple reply. He took his things, walked a few steps, then took a small look back before continuing forward into the morning air.

***

He should have fucked her over. He really, really should have.

And he still could, too.

The thoughts pinged back and forth through Kieran’s exhausted mind as he waited in a long, tight line to talk to the railmaster.

Public transportation was exorbitantly expensive to many in the city. Kieran rode free--another perk of his position--but he still had to wait in quite the line to flash a stamp to be let past.

It had been a few hours since he and Aura split up, and he had had no rest in the interim. He had gone back to his home to shower and collect a few odds and ends, as well as clothes for himself and Aura (if she needed it) for the night. He had even laid down to rest, but sleep never came.

He slipped over to The Square and down into a network of vast, decaying tunnels to access the rail line. His mind raced across his tasks of the day. Bribe workers at the tunnels. Find out who runs Atlantic and get their insight on this fringe group Aura was a part of. And figure out who to pay off to get Aura off any hit list they had.

He took a few steps forward to a older woman--the railmaster for the day--and flashed a badge.

“You make triple what I do,” she spat out. “Would it kill you to pay?”

Kieran stammered through a rough apology and slipped past her, heading onto the train.

This morning had completely thrown him for a loop. His plan had been so simple before. How, he wasn’t sure what he really wanted.

The train shuttered and shifted to a slow start out of the station. With each warped piece of metal the crowded passengers bumped and shifted into each other. Kieran, with height on his side, held a hand to the ceiling of the train and wasn’t shifting much. But many other tossed and turned like a salad in here.

About halfway between Square Station and the entrance to subsection J, a standard AE patrol entered the car.

This particular patrol was a larger, fatter man--probably about 60--and a young hotshot who loosely swung a small steel bat just behind him. The man checked off the tickets while the hotshot continued to eye up people, looking for a fight.

Kieran rolled his eyes to the whole affair, showing off his stamp and receiving a gruff nod from the older man. The younger hotshot swung his metal bat a little too wide, and Kieran felt a painful smack against his right side.

“Fuckin’ watch it, would you?” Kieran popped off without thinking.

Immediately, the hotshot stabbed the front end of the metal rod into Kieran, knocking the wind out of him.

He doubled over, feeling skewered by the thick polished metal. Over the sound of his own pained gasps he heard others make a similar sound. His stomach churned, and he was barely able to turn from the hotshot before water Aura had given him dumped out onto the floor of the filthy card.

”Stop it!” yelped the older man, and the hotshot laughed. Kieran’s eyes rose in hatred as he stared up at the hotshot.

“Have anything more to add?” the hotshot asked. Kieran burned but said no more.

The hotshot and the old man eventually worked their way towards the end of the train car. Kieran watched as they went, and noticed two younger passengers eyeing each other as the two opened the door between the two cars. As the two passed through the threshold of the doors, Kieran could see past them several similar young men in the next car over--they looked over to the entering AE members, who in turn looked back towards Kieran.

Just as Kieran put together what was happening, the two young boys grabbed at the door. The hotshot looked to them, then quickly to Kieran--before the door slammed shut, sealing the old man and the hotshot into the next car.

Screams and lots of commotion immediately rang out, before several gunshots shook Kieran and those in this car. Still, no one screamed.

Everyone knew what has happening.

And just like that, the young boys opened the door, and Kieran looked down and into the next car to see no evidence of the old man or the hotshot.

They simply weren’t there.

***

Kieran made his way quickly to the entrance of subsection J, and found himself at the Maw.

The opening of these five caves, guarded minimally by wire fencing and just three AE members, very easily resembled the mouth of a beast. And with the hill behind the Maw covered in piles and piles of garbage, it seemed like Kieran was entering one of the most dangerous places in all of Apex.

It was fairly true, to be fair.

“Good morning,” he offered to the three guards, each hardly older than himself. After flashing his stamp, their demeanor softened dramatically.

“You’re a long way from Port Apex,” one of the guards said. She scratched at the back of her calf with a similar metal bat that the hotshot had carried. Kieran tried not to stare. “I have a feeling you need a favor.”

“So...I’ve got this friend,” he started, which immediately erupted laughter from the three guards. He smiled and played bashful as he described needing a private spot to ‘hang out’ with his friend Aura. It was a gross cover story, but he figured the guards would go easy on him if they thought he needed a secluded place to, well, sleep around.

The three guards joked casually with him, before promising to let anyone with the name “Aura” know to go down to tunnel three. They even loaned him the keys to a small outpost in the tunnel the AE wasn’t using--complete with electricity, a bathroom, and of course, a bed. They would also tell Aura which sign to look for and which door to knock.

In exchange, Kieran promised booze each time he visited, and more if he could manage. The experience was night and day from that he had had on the train. Apex Enforcement, so it seemed, was certainly a mixed bag from his perspective.

***

The rest of the day had been uneventful for Kieran. He had traveled back towards Atlantic--making sure only to use the train to get there and not to leave the transit station. He found a local AE member and made a small bribe--assuring that the two would meet the next day. He also thought of heading back over to the Square to talk with another contact about securing papers, but after nearly two days of no good sleep, he was more than ready to rest.

He traveled back into tunnel three and headed for the AE outpost--food, meat, and ale in hand.

In here, the walls seemed to leak a sort of black tar, and the air smelt of shit felt as thick as some sort of syrup. Kieran broke out into a sweat almost immediately and continued to sweat until he came upon the faintly glowing sign:

AE OUTPOST J-12 - AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY

Once he unlocked and opened the door, the blast of cool, thin air was nearly enough to make him cry.

The outpost, aside from the deary concrete walls, was immaculate.

Soft electric lighting lined the ceilings. The front door led past a small desk but another door led into the living quarters.

In here, a living room held several couches and other devices he didn’t even recognize. There was a kitchen, mostly stocked with non-perishable foods, and ready for use. There was a bathroom, a room with a billiard table, and of course, three bedrooms with easily movable single-person mattresses. There was also an armory, but with a door that required a separate key. No surprise there.

He moved into the kitchen and placed the food and ale into the refrigerator. He had used a fridge so little and thought of them as such a luxury item, he placed the items in carefully, unsure of how to use it.

How strange it was, he thought, that he was here now. Standing in an AE outpost that felt more like a luxury vacation house than a place of arms. How different they lived from him, that they could casually lend him such a place.

He next took a long, hot shower and examined his stomach as he did so. From his pelvis to his mid-abdomen was a large, splotchy bruise that still hurt like hell to touch. He washed it carefully and left the shower feeling cleaner than he had in years. He couldn’t remember the last hot shower he had had.

He dried himself carefully and sat down in the bed. Worn down and beyond the point of sleep deprivation, his body finally gave out, and he fell asleep on top of the covers of one of the many beds in the bunker-turned-outpost.

***

He was awoken by three sharp, loud knocks on the door.

His eyes shot up and he pulled himself from the bed.

“One moment,” he called out, dressing himself. He looked at the time.

Fuck, 9PM already? How long was I asleep?

He straightened out his hair and took a moment to breathe, before setting his demeanor and opening the door. He didn’t say a word until he had closed and locked the door behind her.

“I hope you found it alright,” he said. The strangeness of the situation was palpable in the air, so he avoided her gaze and moved straight to the kitchen.

“I grabbed some produce and meat. And ale of course. Help yourself, there’s enough for five,” he called back to her. He opened the refrigerator, pulled out a small barrel of ale and poured a healthy amount into a stein, before drinking deeply.

He worried he would need it tonight.

The rest of the morning went as usual; Aura rushed home to attempt a warm shower, but it was too late, so a cold one would have to suffice. An hour later, it was back to work, back to street clean up, and another unforgiving day in the blazing sun.

It was always around noon when she wound up near Mae’s. A visible stain marked the road where the man she brushed past at the bar was shot point blank, and Aura shuddered at the sight. The thought of entering Mae’s for ale entered her mind, and while the temptation was pressing, she’d thought it’d be best to continue on.

But it seemed there were other plans in store, as a pair of hands reached out the front door, dragged her in by her work suit, and pulled her to the back - one of the cause’s many offices. The few and scattered patrons looked up but a moment before returning back to their drink.

Once the door was shut and locked, she recognized her captor as Cael, who was there with a few other men. “She’s here, Gregor!”

Their leader stepped out of the adjacent room and waved for the men to leave, and they filed out into the bar swiftly.

“You ran off last night,” he mumbled as he paced in front of her as she sat on the wooden, familiar chair. He had her trained like a dog. “What happened?”

“Ran out of ammo,” she explained, remembering her breathing. Any sign of hesitation would tip Gregor off. “Enforcers began to chase me, so I ducked off into an alleyway before I could book it. Wound up at my dad’s.”

Gregor nodded, remaining silent, but a grin began to form in the corners of his mouth. Fuck.

Without a warning, a sting took over every nerve in Aura’s face, followed by the metallic taste of blood in her mouth. He’d back-handed her.

“Since when do we run away from fights?”

“L-look, I had no ammo, I didn’t know what to - “

Another blow, this time with the front of his calloused hand, and she refused to meet his eyes. Instead, she squeezed her fists so tight that her arms began to tremble until the pain, minus a slight sting, subsided.

“I wasn’t looking for an excuse. I thought you were better than that, Aura.” He shook the hand he hit her with, then used it to wipe the sweat beating on his forehead. “Are you or are you not for the cause.”

“Yes,” she responded, hardly breaking past a whisper. “I’m sorry.”

“Good girl.”

Okay, that wasn’t so bad. Aura slowly used the sleeve of her suit to dab the blood that had dripped from her bottom lip, which sure enough, was split again.

“In that case, I have a job for you tomorrow night.” Gregor grabbed another chair and swiveled it around, sitting on it backwards, his face now only a foot away from hers. “Pogo is having a group of his girls go to a party in Subsection A…you haven’t been there in years, right?”

Aura shook her head in response.

“Good. You’re gonna go with the girls.”

Pogo was a friend to the group, a pimp that provided prostitutes for the wealthier subsections. Most of the women on his payroll were from the poorer ones, picked for their looks and desperation for cash.

“What… why am I going?”

“Mr. Loor is going to be there. Actually, it’s his party, and from what we’ve gathered, petite, blue-eyed, black-haired girls are just his type. Can’t blame him,” he chuckled, offering her a wink.

It took everything in Aura not to launch at him, and instead, she faked a smile in return. Loor was high-ranking official of the AA, one who spearheaded one of the many laws that ran Unity into the ground. He ignored their pleas for a better life, stating that he believed “Subsection F’s faults lie solely within it’s civilians,” and used excess funds to support the AE. Rumor had it that he was working with others in the AA on a plan to institute even more rules on F and others like it, but what those rules were was unknown.

“Do you know what a laptop is?”

Aura, again, shook her head.

“A computer?

This time, she nodded.

Gregor grabbed a piece of paper and drew a picture of a laptop. “It folds like a book with a screen and letters. We need it.”

“I…” What question would she start with? “How do I get out with it?”

“Mae sewed a pocket in the dress we have picked for you. It should fall right between your ankles as you walk. Just be careful.”

“T-That would be my third strike stealing if I’m caught, I -”

“Pogo knows the bartender. Loor’s drink will be spiked early in the night, he won’t remember a thing and should be pretty fucked up by the time you’re with him.”

God, Gregor always had an answer for everything. “What if he doesn’t pick me?”

“Pogo agreed to send only blondes, redheads or short-haired girls.”

“Well, what if he doesn’t pick me first?”

Gregor paused for a second, his expression taking on a phony, remorseful one. One of his old tricks that Aura had picked up on long ago. “Pogo will try your best to get you out if another picks you first. If not, you have to oblige. We can’t risk them knowing he works with us. He agreed to pay you handsomely if it happens.”

Suddenly, it felt like all the stale air was sucked out of her lungs, and her muscles turned so rigid that she felt her arms could break off at any moment. How could he ask that of her? How dare he, after all she had done for him, put her in such a position? Aura saw red, and her cheeks reflected the same, heat rising throughout her core.

Every thought of putting the hit out on Kieran anyway, against their agreement, was off the table. Whether it was next week or years from now, she’d leave the cause no matter what it took.

Gregor took her blushed cheeks the wrong way. “Aw, Aura,” he sighed with a patronizing tone. “If the times we were together proved anything, it’s that you know what you’re doing.” His hand moved to her lip to collect some of the blood that pool, and she flinched, causing him to frown. “I know you’re stronger than this.” His hand returned, this time successfully removing the blood. “Make sure you cover that tomorrow.”

With only a few more words spoken between them, she was released back onto the streets of Atlantic, and the panic began to settle deep in her stomach. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”



On her walk home after clocking out, a man grabbed her arm as he walked past that she’d not seen before. “Aura Holland?” he whispered hastily. Ah, a runner.

“Yes.”
“Here.” He stuffed a card in her hand, giving her an assuring nod, then walking away.

Aura looked around nonchalantly before bringing it to her face and squinting to read.

JURISDICTION TRAVEL PASS LEVEL 2

SPONSORED BY: TT#3B149

Upon realizing its value, Aura slyly slid it in the waistband of her pants and quickened her pace, her head oscillating as she went to make sure no one had witnessed the exchange. Level 2 was granted to those who either worked Transportation, Housekeeping, or jobs offered in other subsections. Not for a street cleaner, and especially not one in F Many of those in Unity would kill it for her if they had the chance.



After assuring Del that she was fine, her journey was on to the tunnel entrance that sat near the border of Unity, an area she didn’t visit often. The border often was the stomping grounds for the homeless and jobless that fell through the cracks of the AE’s system, and the darker it got, the more dangerous the encampment became.

A few whistles and remarks were all she received, and she was thankful for the easy passage to the iron door at the end of the staircase that went ten to fifteen feet into the earth. She knocked heartily, and a small window snapped open.

“Pass.”

Aura reached up, her fingers gripping it tightly so that it couldn’t be snatched.

“Stand back.”

The door opened outward, revealing three men in enforcers closing, luckily for her not Soren or any of his men. Usually, the officers assigned to jobs like guarding the tunnels were the ones they couldn’t trust out on the streets. “Ooooh, this one must be the friend he was talking about.”

Aura’s eyes widened as they slammed the door behind her. “I, um, I’m here to meet someone.”

“We know,” one snickered, eying her up and down. “Let us know if your friend will let us have seconds, huh?”

Confused by his remark, she shook her head and looked to a different officer. “About two hundred paces. Break off in the right tunnel. First door on the left from there. J-12.”

She nodded nervously and immediately began to walk, counting her steps as she went.

Knock knock knock.

The cold blast of air sent her into a near shock, and she lifted up her locks to feel it on every surface of her skin possible.

Kieran’s words were just noise to her until she heard “produce - meat - ale.”

She dashed for the kitchen, recognizing the refrigerator from her times as a housekeeper, and gathered as much food as she could in her hands: an apple, a cutlet, some sort of greenery, and a bottle of ale. It wasn’t thirty seconds later until she had it sprawled on the desk and messily dug into it all, using her sleeve to wipe her face between sips of ale and bites of food. It was probably similar to watching an animal feast on its first prey of the winter season.

When she was satisfied, she turned herself around to face Kieran, sighing in relief. It was rare to feel a full stomach. “Thank you.”

It was then when she decided to look at her surroundings, and she cocked her head in curiosity.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to ask for your escort to at least the Atlantic block when I leave.”

Grabbing the bottle of ale once again, she took a few swigs and clutched it against her stomach with one hand, the other playing with the newly formed scab on her lip. “Well, then. What do you want to know?”

Kieran watched as Aura ravaged her way through the food. In a strange sort of shame he felt for even watching, he turned away.

His eyes wandered downward at this own stomach.

He liked to think of food as a luxury, but the truth of the matter was that he was fed--well fed, in fact--and did not hunger much. Particularly these days. What had once been tight, weak abs had fleshed out significantly. Over the past two years, he noticed that he had put on a small amount of muscle--filling out his more lean build. He was not large by any means (at least horizontally), but he wasn't the rail he once was. Kieran thought to all of the meat he had been eating recently. He was sure it had contributed.

But as his eyes drifted back up to Aura, he could easily see the malnourishment. My god, they didn't have much in Atlantic, did they?

She slowly finished up and began to talk. "I'd like to ask for your escort."

"Of course, of course," came his hasty reply. Guilt seemed to drip from him more and more as he interacted with her. It was a strange mix of pity and respect he felt. As if he had lived his whole life a victim only to realize he had been the privileged the entire time.

Oh what it must have been to be in subsection A.

"I'm not sure where to start," he admitted. He forced his thoughts down. It was time for business, after all, and he definitely needed something from her. His eyes wandered to her lips, where they lingered for a moment. The sight of not-so-fresh blood made him grimace. What price was she already paying for sparing him? For coming here.

"I was given a dossier of names and locations. I'd show you but I burned it. It was too valuable to be left anywhere."

Kieran moved to sit across from her--his elbows resting on his knees as he learned it to speak. He went for a drumstick and chewed lightly on it. He swallowed, then spoke again: "I guess the best thing would be for you to tell me the basics. What the organization is. What they do. Who leads them."

He thought for a moment.

"But maybe we can do this another way."

He grabbed a stein of ale and sat back down. Perhaps this could feel less like an interrogation, and more like a conversation.

"I figure we have a little bit of acquainting to do, after last night. So I'll make a statement. If it's true about you, you drink. If it's not, I drink. And if we want to elaborate a little more on the subject, then we can go from there."

Kieran took a swig in a small effort to catch up to Aura. Then:

"Alright, I'll start. You took me to a family member's house last night."

He wondered if that was a good place to start, but it was late, and he didn't want to waste too much time. It was time to skip the pleasentries.

Was he trying to be...nice?

No, he’s here for information. You’re here for freedom.

Aura adjusted in her chair until finding a comfortable position, somewhere between criss-cross and fetal, cradling the bottle in her hand. Maybe this wasn’t so bad of a set up. She spills a little information, and a full meal and bottle was the payout. It was probably the best deal she’d made thus far. Fuck Gregor, fuck the cause. They just stole and stole from her, telling her she was doing the most trustworthy thing, until she became the shell of a person that was sitting in front of Kieran.

”You took me to a family member’s house last night.”

The reality of what the cause was, how it could drag the most innocent of people down with you, felt like a blow to the ches. Her eyes mimicked that feeling, windening into orbs as she completely tensed in the chair, unsure of her next move.

Could she lie? Of course she could. Aura could dance her way through a fabricated story without a second thought.

But, paranoia crept in. He wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t already know, right? And lying to the man who caught her in an apparent act of treason against the AA would be a strike one. She was in way too deep, and everything leading up to this point felt like a cinder block tied to her ankles. She was fucked.

Lifting the ale to her mouth with a shaky hand, Aura took a swig of the ale.

It wasn’t two seconds before she slammed her feet on the ground, elbows on her knees. “Look. They have nothing to do with it. Del either. They just deal with it. The cause.”

Aura launched from the chair and began pacing, the bottle clutched in her left arm. It took a few strides around the small apartment, but she gained the courage to look Kieran in the eyes again, her own spitting fire.

“I work alone. No one I love is involved. And I only do this so I can leave this shit hole one day.”

The ale she’d finished was tossed across the room, not quite hitting the wall and shattering like she’d hoped, but instead rolling across the carpet. In embarrassment, she crumbled in the same seat she began in, clawing at her arm through the hoodie she wore.

“If you’re gonna have me here, move faster. Don’t bullshit.”