The night was dark, damp from the recent rain that left puddles scattered across the city street, shimmering in the overhead moonlight. Neon signs of the inner city glowed pink, green, and yellow along the window of the car, flashing by Zac's eyes as they zoomed down the street, his heart pumping in rhythm of each passing building. His mind raced to his mother and his sister starving at home. They were becoming skinnier by the day, paler, sicker.

This was why he joined the Soaring X's, why his initiation was tonight. He needed the money. He needed the power, because the nauseous acid churning in his stomach now ate slowly at his mind.

Was it anxiety, hunger, or guilt? Even Zac, now nineteen years old and with several robberies under his belt, was unsure.

The ink of the gang - a wide-winged eagle over the letter X - burned at this right shoulder, prickled at the skin. The cybernetics embedded in the tattoo would instantly kill him if he turned around now.

He was stuck. There was no going back. He chose his path, and now he had to take it.

From the back seat he glanced at his friend Kyle, his smile and blue eyes both wide and sparkling in the passing neon lights, the rest of his face shadowed by the city's dreary darkness. He was Zac's only comfort at this moment. Kyle was strong willed, not easily swayed, and had been this way since grade school. His brother used to be a member of the Soaring X's before the feds locked him up on drug charges. Connections earned Zac a spot as a potential member, rather than a body rotting six feet under.

Zac glanced at Omar, a dark skinned 26-year-old with a long nose and curly black hair. He was their ride and their initiation leader, who supported Kyle and Zac since Kyle's brother recommended them to join. He was pure business, and dressed the part. His white button-up shirt contrasted his darker skin. The dress pants he wore had a flawless crease down the center, leading to a pair of brown pointed shoes that pressed down, speeding up the car.

"Hey, lighten up back there, kid." said Omar, keeping his dark eyes on the road and his bejeweled fingers wrapped carelessly on the steering wheel. "Can't be having any pussies in the Soaring X's. You better find some balls if you wanna do this."

"No, no he's good, Omar!" Kyle pledged. He turned around and gave Zac a wink. "He's got me after all. I'll keep him in line."

Zac took his eyes away from the window, meeting Omar's eyes in the rear view mirror. "Y-yeah, I'm good, man. I swear."

Omar let out a puff of air from his flared nostrils, but didn't say another word. His foot pressed down on the gas, and the engine roared.

After another five minutes of riding in silence down the empty city streets, Omar pulled up to a sidewalk glistening wet in the moonlight. Just off the pavement was a lengthy line of three-story apartments. A run-down gas station with a blinking neon sign sat at the end of the street. Skinny alleyways ran between each apartment building.

Zac and Kyle opened the car doors and hopped out. Tightening their sweatshirts around their bodies from the sudden wisp of chilly Autumn air, they trudged onto the sidewalk. Polluting city light hid away the stars in the night sky.

Not a soul walked the sidewalks. No one dared to leave the comfort of their homes after 10 PM. The inhuman cyborg gang - The Forsaken, and the all human - Soaring X's would roam the streets, looking for anyone to rob, mug, or even murder if they so felt like it.

Simply put - Vlocaster City was a horrible place to live. But this city is where Zac was born and raised. It was all he knew.

Omar turned the car around, revving its engine and changing the undercarriage light to a horrid red. He opened his window and leaned his head out, eyes ablaze.

"Now listen here. I'm giving you two an hour. All you have to do is take someone's wallet. I don't care how you do it or who you steal it from. Kill the fucker for all I care. All that matters is by midnight, if you hand me a wallet with a crypto ID in it, you both are in. Got it?"

Both Zac and Kyle nodded - Kyle a little more lively with his head bob.

"Good. Now go. I'll see you at the corner of Main and Foster in an hour. Text me if you get done early. But remember, don't fucking get caught. Or-" He pointed to where the gang had seared crypto-tattoos into their shoulders, then ran his thumb across his throat.

His window closed with the click of a button, and he peeled away. The tire screech pierced Zac's eardrums and flooded smoke into the frigid night air, eventually dissolving and leaving Zac and Kyle alone in the city's heart with one goal - and one 9 mm pistol hugged tightly in Zac's waistband.

Zac lifted his sweatshirt and grabbed the gun with his hand. He took it and turned it over to study its shape and edges. He wanted to read the carved writing on the side, but couldn't with it shaking so violently in his hands.

He went to click the safety off, but his brain crumpled inside his skull.

W-wait. Does the orange mean it's on or off? S-shit I don't know...

"Yo, you needa chill, man," said Kyle, giving Kyle a light push into his back. "Give me the gun if you're gonna be too scared." He held out his hand.

Zac placed the gun back into his waistband, fumbling with it a few times. "N-no, I got this."

Kyle rolled his eyes, then spat on the ground. "Whatever, bro." He turned his head and pointed down one of the long, dark alleys. "Let's wait at the end of this alley. It's dark enough no one will see us. We'll wait until someone passes by. You jump out and hold 'em at gunpoint, and I'll slip behind and hold my knife at their back."

It took a while for these words to reach Zac, whose eyes fixated on the bulge on his waist as his hand ran back and forth over it. Even the joint he smoked before they got in the car still couldn't shake the nausea eating away at his insides. With a struggling gulp of rising bile, he nodded his head, and they entered the closest alley.

They must have waited nearly twenty minutes, with Zac pacing between the walls while Kyle wrinkled his nose, swearing under his breath. They hadn't spotted one person.

Kyle clicked his tongue and dug something out from his sweatshirt pocket. Its long needle sparkled in the few rays of light entering the alley. It was a syringe, with some oddly colored liquid sloshing inside.

Kyle sighed and rolled up his sleeve. "Need a little pick me up if we're gonna be waiting here forever." He stuck the needle into the crease of his arm, winced, and injected whatever was inside the syringe into his veins. He let out a sigh of relief, along with a pleasurable moan that carried through the alley.

Zac looked on while Kyle put the now empty syringe back into his pocket and returned his eyes to the street. Zac shook his head in disbelief. He never got into that shit. Weed and booze was his limit, never the hard stuff.

Another five minutes passed. They were already half-way done with their time, and neither had spotted a single person on the sidewalk.

The tattoo prickled at Zac's skin, sending an icy wave down his spine. If they failed this initiation, there was no way the X's would allow them to live, even if Kyle's brother was a current member. Do or die, was the gang's only motto.

It wasn't until Zac heard Kyle gasp that he spun on his heel and stared to the street with wide eyes. A lone man in a baggy hoodie strolled down the street with a large german shepherd walking at his side.

Zac shifted his glance to Kyle, who beamed a nasty smile to no one but himself. There was a twinkle of mischievous glee in his eye, either from the broken neon sign of the gas station across the street, or the drugs rushing through his veins.

Kyle gestured to Zac. Zac nodded and ran up behind him, taking cover behind a dumpster.

"This guy, right here. This is our chance, man. He doesn't look too tough." He turned and looked Zac in the eye, his pupils nearly taking up his entire iris. "Now throw that gun in his face and fuck the guy's night up."

Zac's legs suddenly felt heavy, like two lead bricks holding him in place. "You sure this guy will work?"

Kyle scowled. His brow wrinkled. "Of course. Stop being such a bitch, dude. Guy's clearly fucking stupid if he's walking alone at night." He turned to look at the man. That same evil twinkle returned to his eyes. "Especially with a dog like that."

Kyle stood from the ground and peeked around the dumpster. The man was almost at the corner. He gestured with his head and hissed through clenched teeth, "Go!"

Zac took a deep breath. He had to do this. If not, he condemned his sister and mother to death. But what frightened Zac more was that if he bailed now, the Soaring X's would surely kill them all in a way more horrific than crippling starvation. The flashing images of their potential fates broke the lead anchoring his feet to the ground.

He stood tall, the night breeze blowing through his hair. With the gun shaking in his hands, he bit down on his tongue, ignored the pain, and sprinted out of the alley, legs churning like never before. 

He squeezed his eyes shut.

And darkness ensued.