For men like Benji Mullins, the journey to Neo Elysium took several weeks. While it was legally possible to move out of North Marcanty, there weren't roads that led there. Benji would drive to a port and bribe a sailor, but leaving his truck in a port would guarantee it getting towed and sold for parts. He had to go to North Marcanty like any other product. Benji didn't have to pay the truck loaders who worked for the Lord, picking up the product and transporting it to the nearest train. He did have to pay the conductor, and then the sailors who would bring him into a port. He held his documents in his hands, tracing over the lines on the paper at night, his address, the land that he lived on that wasn't his and could never be.

The Neo Elysian dock workers couldn't be bribed. Benji Mullins was entering illegally since it was the only way for him to enter, but he had been invited. From The Sticks, with a smell that would bother anyone's nose but Benji's, he was whisked into The Arch and kept in a hold for three days before his Lord came and his documents were settled. He was given a band with his virtual documents that he could use around the city. The band itched his skin. Benji wished he could rip it off, he was only going to the next building.

"I see you sent in an application," the woman across from Benji says.

She is the most mechanical person he has ever seen. She is far too young for her stark white hair, a fact proven that when she tilts her head, it shimmers like the ripples on a pond on a hot day. Her cheekbones protrude in an odd way, possibly sharper than her jawline. Benji fidgets in his chair.

"Yes," Benji explains.

No one else in his community had heard of the project. Benji hadn't spread word in case one of them won the contract. It was worth all the money he'd save on labour. Rumour was that the fisheries were going to have a good season and soon enough people would flock away from the farmers. It was selfish, Benji knew it. The thought churned his stomach.

"And you didn't enter at a legally designated port?" she asks, flipping a page in the document.

"There..." Benji straightens himself, taking in a deep breath. He had worn his very best for this meeting, but he knew he smelled of sweat, of the three days he'd been kept in his holding cell. He looked from the paperwork up to the woman. "There aren't any boats out of North Marcanty that enter through an immigration port. They told me they'd drop me off at the port and then the day of they told me they'd need an extra three hundred credits for the docking fee, and I couldn't pay."

She looks up at him, dropping the paperwork. Benji wonders if they've got lots of paper out here if she's used to the way it feels. He isn't used to the metal chair. It's cold through his sweat-licked back.

The woman stands up and offers him her hand.

"Benjemin Mullins," she mispronounces his name as she stands. It's so common he's surprised. She offers him a hand, "your application has been approved."

~~~

Gale doesn't even have a chance to run. He's at work, wearing gloves and protective glasses and earmuffs. His senses were numb, all the better since his nose burned. He could taste the fire lingering in the air. It was easy to tune out the world, grabbing packages and sealing them on the assembly line. The products they were shipping were going to Underpass City. He could never live in a place like that. No rain.

There are hands are his arms and before he can even twist his head, he's been pulled off the line. Officers wrap their hands tightly around his arms. Gale tries to pull away, to move, but he can't. Gale doesn't know how they caught him, how they knew it was him. He's got a clean record, no details written down that would lead to him.

As they lead him out, Gale sees his coworker. Fenix stands with a smug smile but a beat red face. Gale would think it was anger if he didn't know it was first-degree burns. Gale turns his head down and lets the officer guide him away.

~~~

Normally, Harvey guides the officers into his headquarters with a smile. Their raids are common. This is the third one this week. Normally, he'd pour the officers a drink. Enough of them were on his payroll that it didn't matter if anyone was caught with a few ships on a table. Harvey smiles as they burst in, placing his hands on his head, his cane still in one.

An officer slams into him, knocking him to the ground. He is flipped over, but he knows well enough that it's going to be a full-on brawl. Harvey doesn't fidget, just lies there, hoping at least some of the Wraiths are sensible enough to stand down.

The officer hoists him up and there is just enough a glance at the back of his tavern to see Amity's face bloody as she jumps toward him. Lark lying on the ground, not moving, and Nyx with hands around his throat. Afton is throwing two guards around easily, but a third is about to be on him.

"Having fun?" Harvey says as the officer pulls him out of the tavern, dragging him outside. It's raining, and with the slippery ground and the new and improved pang in his leg, Harvey can barely walk.

"Only someone like you'd think this is fun," the officer sneers. "Time's up, Clockwork."

Harvey winces, "hope you were only workshopping that in the car ride over. Bit cliché."

The officer opens the door and Harvey's head cracks off the top of the car doorframe.

~~~

"We don't have time, Nightingale," the voice of one of Cosmia's colleagues hisses in her ear.

"Make fucking time," she replies, elbows deep into the body of the droid in front of her, two of her colleagues pinning it down. "That's your damn job, this is mine."

One rogue droid is enough. Their software programming is connected through the net, and whoever is supposed to be manning the computer isn't picking up the call. If they can fix this one, maybe it'll fix the others. Somehow. Programming isn't contagious and yet this one seems to have caught some virus and transmitted it to the others.

She's sweating, but her knees are the warmest. Bloodstained.

The sirens are ringing in the background, but there are three rogue droids running around. The people screaming and sprinting aren't happening. They are security droids, supposed to be their in-men, and now everyone has made themselves a damn threat.

"Let's go, now!" the guy screams over the comm in her ear.

They can't just leave the droids, and dismantling a droid on the fly withoutbeing electrocuted is a challenge for most. Their damn security droids are nearimpossible to turn off without using a computer to do it. Cosmia feels hercolleagues leave, but she's almost there, one tool away from pulling out thedroids sensor.

She nearly snatches it but is thrown onto her bag. The droid presses down against her, the metal so heavy her lungs constrict. Then, she hears the buzz. She told the team at the very least not to cheap out on a maggie but no one ever damn listens. The maggie goes off, and the droid slumps against her, heavier than ever.

It's shoved off and Cosmia tries to catch her breath, staring at the officers above her.

~~~

Faris looks up at the vines wrapped around the poll above him. It's so strange to see them. Most people from The Sticks don't get the chance to see things that are still growing. Mould perhaps, and other things that aren't exactly safe to touch and consume. He wouldn't eat a leaf, but it wouldn't be like bending off the dock and scooping up water.

"Alton," Faris turns when he hears his name come from Raymond's lips. Raymond has his arms open and a smile plastered on his face.

Faris does a practiced laugh, heading over, and ducking through the crowd. He tilts his head down just enough that it looks casual. The cameras will catch him, he knows it, but Faris has a guy who can erase the footage. People's memories matter more, and it's hard for someone like Faris to slip into a background without a concerted effort.

"Raymond," Faris smiles. "I was hoping you'd make it out. Lovely night."

Raymond grips Faris' arm, pulling him in close, "last one you'll have in the garden for a while, Faris."

Faris blinks once, before leaning back. He shakes his head at Raymond, "are you talking about my cousin?"

"Nice recovery," Raymond says. "You'll get a better one in a MedFack."

A hand grabs Faris' shoulder, and he sees a screen flash in the new man's hands. A badge. Undercovers, up here on the roof. Faris swallows. He swallows but bows his head. Faris might have lost this battle, but he's going to win the war, Raymond is going down.

~~~

Reclining the passenger seat, Titus slips downward. His mother never drives. They have people for that, and traffic in The Arch is a bitch. Titus isn't sure he's ever seen his father behind a wheel. He doesn't have a driver's license and would have been sure his mother didn't either.

"If you're separating, I don't care," he nearly spits the word.

His mother glares down at him with a look of disgust he'd think she'd just found out her summer home was in Cocta.

"You're a little rat," she nearly spits.

Titus sits forward. His mother has never called him such a foul word. An asshole, yes, a terrible son, a rotten child, but never a rat. He looks over at her, scanning her face. If it were his father, he'd control his breathing, as if even the slightest sound, the smallest reminder that he existed would be too much.

"The Harper told me," she explains.

He thinks about the droids in their home. They've got three. The Helper, his father's personal Helper, the Driver, and the Harper. Titus knows why they have the House Helper but he never knew why they didn't sell the Harper, the droid which nannied him since childhood. Generally, people who can afford Harper's don't want them second-hand, but he had always assumed his parents were too lazy to even give it to a chop and shop. Now he knows what it was. A spy.

"Told you...?" Titus stares out the front window.

"About your search for Caius," she says. "It's treason, what you're doing?"

"Where are we going?" Titus looks at her.

"I'm bringing you in before officers come around with sirens to put you in cuffs," she shrieks. "The shame you are bringing this family!"

~~~

It was a shame that Norbu slept during the day. When he hears the knock at his apartment door, he feels like he's in a trance. The world outside his bed feels as cold as an ice storm It's not even noon, which is like four in the morning for people who live in Flage. His head pounds, and he barely stumbles out of bed when he hears something slam into the metal door.

Norbu curses, knowing he should've dropped the extra hundred credits to get the door reinforced with a lock harder to hack.

The metal bolt clacks as the door breaks, and Norbu's eyes shoot open as he realizes people are in. He opens his window and climbs onto the balcony. . The wind beats against his eyes as they squint in the sunlight There are marked vehicles outside his building. Officers. Norbu cannot help but grin. He'll go the other way.

He sprints up the metal steps, onto the roof. He's not important enough for a helicopter to come. On the off-chance he is, that'll make the getaway all the more fun. He lives high up but not the highest. He's halfway to the top when his lungs start to ache. There are people chasing after him.

The buildings in Flage are tightly stacked together, not up to code. One well-timed fire could destroy six blocks before firetrucks could even make it. He looks at the building, only two metres across from him, with a ledge maybe ten centimetres thick and windows just above it. He pulls himself onto the bannister and leaps. His feet scrap the wall and land on a window. He kicks at it, but the glass doesn't shatter. It's reinforced.

He can hear people yelling, scrambling behind him. Norbu has thick legs, but he wasn't made for gripping the building and balancing on the thin ledge. His heart is racing. He can hear something whirring beneath him. He's got to move to the next window before they use whatever they've got to climb up to him.

"Give up, Wangchen," a voice calls behind him.

Norbu looks over his shoulder. He winks at the officer behind him who reaches a hand out for him to grab. The jump up to her feels much harder. Even if it were easier, he wouldn't take it. The distance is hard to judge without his glasses on.

He winks at her, "you'd like that wouldn't you."

Norbu leaps toward the next window and his grip slips. He plunges through the air, his soul leaving his chest. He hits the ground which gives too much to be concrete, the wind knocked out of him but his soul back. A bag of air the officers blew up beneath him. Officers are climbing on it before Norbu even inhales.

~~~

The smell of gasoline fills her nose as she inhales. Rhiannon Rose leans back, staring up at the roof above her, inhaling. The smell is beautiful. She holds her lighter in front of her, staring down at where the flame will ignite. In her head, she lives through the smell. The soggy smell hidden with all the kindling she's shoved into the roofs.

Houses in Cocta burn like no others. They've got less metal and they're all in disrepair. This family wouldn't leave and Rhiannon Rose didn't fancy going next door. A thousand credits got them to change their mind. It would feed their family for a month and there is always somewhere else to squat. Just as there will always be somewhere else to burn next.

Rhiannon Rose never got sentimentality. A house is just a house. Stories about the old days never excited her. The limbs that were replaced are missed more by her mother. As a child, her classmates teased her for her middle name. No one would choose to go by a name so archaic, so indicative of plants out in the wilds. Of course, Rhiannon Rose insisted upon it.

She ignites the lighter.

She hears rustling in the building and doesn't move. Someone is here. She closes the lighter.

An officer enters the doorway and draws her weapon, "freeze."

Rhiannon Rose does as she's told.

~~~

It's rotten luck that Eurydice's sister never listens to her. Pya's knee is jolting in her seat, not all that odd considering recent events. The gala was just robbed. Officers are still sweeping the building. Guests are whispering, but none of them have been allowed to leave.

"Act like you're upset, not nervous," Eurydice whispers. "It's your birthday, not your interrogation, remember?"

Pya swallows and glances over at Eurydice. She nods her head. Her hand is wrapped around Galatea's which is only going to get them into more trouble. The closer the pair seem, the more likely it is that they'll assume Pya knows. Droids can be misleading, especially companion droids. A careful inspection of Galatea will note her body may feel human, but she isn't entirely a pleasure droid. There are no working holes beneath her legs that could mistake her for such a thing, and the closer Pya seems, the more unlikely it will be that Pya hasn't noticed.

An officer comes over and ushers Eurydice, her sister, and her sister's secret droid partner into a side room.

"We're going to do a sweep of guests," he explains to Pya. Then, he looks at Galatea. "You first, Miss?"

Before she can protest, he pulls out a sensor from his belt. The man wipes it over Galatea, and it sirens as if the alarm is a speaker in a nuclear facility. Galatea is not as immediately hazardous, at least Eurydice doesn't think so. The officer recoils, ignoring Galatea and scanning Pya's face.

"It's mine," Eurydice stares at the officer and the officer alone. She can't look at her sister or else she might taste the metal of the pronoun she uses. "The droid's mine. Pya doesn't know about it."

~~~

There are many things Kae doesn't know and sometimes she thinks her father knows even less. Her father thinks that bells can be unwrung. Once an officer is called, processes happen. Kae's hands are sweaty. The sticky residue of the cinnamon bun is almost gone. She can still smell the bakery. Her father is paying thirty credits to the shop owner, ten times what the bun costs. The owner is smiling, but Kae hears the employees whispering. They've already called the officers.

"Dad," Kae says. "Let's go."

"We should stay," he says. "We'll just need to explain it to the officers."

They'll come later. Kae knows it. Her face is on camera, her Dad spent credits and practically gave the shop his address and a sign to make the officers' jobs easier. Kae tips her head down, looking at the linoleum floor. It could be a quiet evening. They'd have an hour to make the trip home, wandering, before they meet the officers. It isn't raining, for once. Maybe, if they are lucky, she'll be able to play the violin when the officers knock.

Kae wipes the back of her hand over her nose, feels the sweat, smells the sweet leftovers of the bun. She hears the siren before she sees the lights out the window. Light doesn't ricochet off the close buildings the way sound does. Kae sighs, choosing not to look at her father.

~~~

Even with the hood on, Calath doesn't look at first. The light flashes out of her torch, igniting the bottom of the car and beginning to weld the metal. Calath scooches the creeper left, to get a better angle, finally peeking at the sight.

She can barely hear anything over the sounds in the mechanic shop. They are a dime a dozen out in The Sticks. The expression is odd, and Calath likes that she can smile thinking about it under her hood without anyone noticing. Nobody cares when she asks what a dime is. Something that people in North Marcanty care about, she's heard. They don't have much just dimes. Nothings.

She feels someone tap her shoulder. Calath turns the torch off and she feels herself ripped out. Everything is dark under her hood. She pulls the hood up and looks at the woman whose face hangs over her upside down. It's an officer. She hasn't been this close to one in years. Her heart sinks.

"Come on Hinges," the officer says. "Let's make this easy."

~~~~~

Okay, so something is out. That's nice. I feel I could've done better but I wanted it to be in the world! Let me know if I did a good enough job with your character. I'm excited to keep going!