The train hummed steadily as it glided over the cracked, clay-like land of Viridia III. Ezekiel peered out the window at the heavy clouds gathering in the night sky. He wondered if they were a bad omen, a sign that trouble awaited at their destination. The storm was gaining strength, flashes of lightning briefly illuminating abandoned silos and skeletal greenhouses.

Viridia was once destined for prosperity, to become a thriving farmland, but though the Terrans' terraforming had made it habitable, its chaotic climate had foiled their plans. They left it behind. Only shadows remained where life was meant to grow. Now it crawled with criminals, outcasts and wanderers-the perfect place to hide the kind of secrets people would kill to protect. And that was exactly what they were after.

The train lurched, and Ezekiel's attention shifted as he felt her gaze on him, laser-sharp. Kira sat opposite, arms crossed, her teal bomber jacket framing her stiff shoulders. Her hand was patched up where it was cut. She was chewing gum-strawberry-scented-in a slow, deliberate rhythm that grated on his nerves. Cargo pants and trekking boots replaced her earlier attire, but her eyes held the same challenge he'd seen back on Vlamurik's ship.

"Why?" she asked suddenly, resuming her chewing with an almost mocking pace.

Ezekiel furrowed his brow. She held his gaze, her silence stretching.

"Why didn't you tell him to kill me?" she continued, voice sharp. "I'd just kneed you in the nuts, insulted your family, and tried to choke you out. So why wouldn't you want to throw me to that thing yourself?"

Ezekiel had wondered the same. The truth was he didn't really know. She had pushed him past his every limit, and yet... something held him back. Her resilience, her cunning, her boldness. The way she stood up to him, unafraid, just like someone he knew. It stirred a lost memory, buried long ago.

"Thought you'd be of use," his voice rumbled in the quiet. "We needed a fast pilot," he said, though the memory of their flight still churned in his gut.

Ezekiel was used to space travel, but Kira's piloting hadn't just been fast; it was reckless. The way she'd taken sharp turns and sudden dives suggested she was having a little too much fun watching him go pale. By the time they'd landed-after one last, stomach-lurching skid-he'd sworn he'd never fly with an angry pilot again.

"So..." she narrowed her eyes, leaning closer, "I'm just a tool for you. Guess it takes one to know one, right... Hammer?"

Ezekiel's jaw tightened, his gaze steady.

"Hammer, Noose... Maybe I should get one of those cute nicknames too," she said, a glint of mischief in her eyes. "How about Nutcracker?"

His eyes narrowed as he started cracking his knuckles. Why did she keep needling him? Vlamurik had promised her freedom if they pulled this off, so why wouldn't she just shut up and let him do his job?

"Guess you're not the chatty type." She leaned back, snapping her gum annoyingly. "Aren't you worried I might get the chance to do it again and disappear?"

He leaned closer. "No," he growled.

Her brow furrowed, chin lifting. "Why not?"

"You're smart," he said, his voice low and rough. "You know he rarely gives second chances. And he never gives third ones."

She remained silent this time, her brow knitting even further, but for a moment, he caught a flicker of unease in her eyes.

Ezekiel turned to the window as the lights of Ashport drew nearer. From a distance, the city glowed under its neon lights, casting beautiful, vibrant colors across the worn landscape. But with each flash of lightning, glimpses of its true nature emerged: shipping containers stacked as makeshift homes, abandoned factories turned into gang headquarters and depleted warehouses decorated with harsh graffiti. It was a patchwork of desperation and danger.

As the train pulled into the station, they descended, stepping into the shadowed streets side-by-side. They walked in silence, each step echoing between crumbling buildings. The damp smell of rust and mildew hung in the air, and Ezekiel caught side-eyed glances from figures lurking in doorways and alleys, but no one dared challenge him. He looked up. The rain hadn't started, but the air felt heavy with its weight, the sky thundering over their heads like a warning.

Kira finally broke the silence. "Show me this guy's face again."

Ezekiel tapped his wristpad, and a hologram flickered to life-a dark-haired man with almond-shaped eyes. "Others may be after him. After what he has," Ezekiel murmured, his gaze fixed on the image. "We'll make the exchange fast and get out."

Kira nodded, eyes locked on the hologram. "The faster we do this, the sooner I'm free of you," she said, shooting him a sidelong glance.

Ezekiel's jaw tightened, but he kept his silence, switching off his pad. Failure wasn't an option-not with Vlamurik. They needed to move quickly, work smoothly, and stay on schedule.

They turned down a dim alley, empty except for a lone figure slumped against a wall. The man held a thin straw, sniffing glowing blue powder from a crumpled sheet on his lap. Starhaze. As the powder hit his system, his eyes rolled back, and a pathetic grin spread across his face.

Kira's eyes widened as they passed, her stare lingering a beat too long on the man's glazed expression. She looked away quickly as she caught Ezekiel's gaze. Tightening her jaw, she pulled a pack from her pocket, flicking a piece of gum into her mouth with practiced indifference.

A heavy metal door loomed at the end of the alley, the words 'The Pit' sprayed over it in a jagged, stylized graffiti. A faint, muffled beat thudded from inside, and as Ezekiel knocked with a heavy hand, a chill wind swept through the alley, carrying the distant rumble of thunder. He glanced up at the darkening sky. The rain wouldn't hold off for much longer.

The door swung open, spilling harsh red light into the alley. The beat grew louder, pulsing like a heartbeat. Ezekiel stepped inside, Kira close behind, and they were met by half a dozen heavily armed men with snarling skeletal tigers tattooed on their arms. The Phantom Fangs-one of the most feared and ruthless gangs in Ashport's underworld.

"No guns. No cybernetics," barked the man at the center, a bald, broad-shouldered brute with a face that practically dared them to object.

Ezekiel's jaw clenched. This was standard practice in places like these, but it didn't ease the tension prickling his spine. With a slow nod, he began emptying his pockets under the guard's scrutinizing gaze. His eyes flicked to Kira, catching the slight tension in her shoulders as she followed suit. The music throbbed around them, thick and heavy, as they left their weapons behind and descended into the pounding heart of The Pit.

As the staircase led them down, the heat pressed in on Ezekiel like a damp, heavy cloak. The air reeked-a mix of sweat, cheap booze and the sickly-sweet tang of Starhaze. Each breath seemed to thicken with the sticky scent of bodies packed too close.

The relentless bass pounded through the room, vibrating the walls and his bones. Lights flashed, bathing faces and bodies in pulsing bursts of red, blue, and green, casting shadows that danced over tattooed arms and bare shoulders. The crowd moved with the beat, swaying and colliding in a drunken rhythm, outlines blurred by the smoke curling around the lights. The whole place felt like a fever dream, surreal and suffocating.

"We should split up," Kira yelled through the noise as she took off her jacket, tying the sleeves around her waist. "We'll find him faster."

Ezekiel gave a curt nod and turned toward the bar, bracing himself as he pushed through the sea of bodies. He flicked his wristpad to life, illuminating the image of their target. The bartender, a girl whose face bristled with metal studs and rings, looked at him with a bored expression. Her green hair swayed under the dim lights as she shook her head, barely glancing at the image.

As he turned from the bar, something caught his eye. Kira was cornered by three men, her arms crossed tightly against her chest, posture tense. Her face was a mask of irritation, but her eyes darted to the side, scanning for an escape that wasn't there. The men loomed around her, their sneering smiles dripping malice. Ezekiel noted the way their eyes lingered too long, crawling over her like spiders, their bodies pressing in, arms forming an unyielding wall.

ZEKE! ZEKE, OVER HERE! HELP ME! Sarah's voice tore through his mind, raw and unrelenting. He had tried to help her, but he'd been too young, too green. They'd pinned him down, forcing him to watch. Every scream, every plea, still haunted him. His fists clenched, nails biting into his palms as the memory clawed through his chest like barbed wire. Never again, he'd sworn that day. And not this time.

His eyes locked onto the men as heat surged through his body. Without breaking stride, he cut through the crowd, shoving bodies aside, ignoring the curses and glares that followed.

In a flash, he was on them. He yanked the nearest man by the collar, slamming him into the wall. The man's head cracked against the concrete, his body slumping to the floor. Another grabbed Ezekiel's arm. He twisted, his forehead smashing into the man's nose with a sickening crunch. As the second man fell, the third bolted, vanishing into the crowd.

The echoes of Sarah's screams faded, but the weight on his chest remained. Breathless, Ezekiel turned to Kira. Her eyes were wide, but a mix of amusement and disbelief flickered across her face. "Guess you really earned that nickname of yours," she yelled over the music. "But I could've handled them myself."

Ezekiel scoffed, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. "Next time, then."

Kira's smile matched his for a moment, her shoulders loosening. Then her eyes dropped to the man knocked out on the floor, and her smile faded. Ezekiel followed her gaze, his own expression darkening as his eyes landed on the tiger tattoo sprawled across the man's forearm.

He and Kira exchanged a tense glance. He raised his head, scanning for the third man. The crowd swayed and stumbled, unfazed by their brawl. The bass thundered on with the flashing lights, the violence blending seamlessly into the chaos.

"We should keep moving," she muttered, her voice barely audible over the pounding music.

Ezekiel nodded, his eyes sweeping the crowd once more, searching for any sign of the man who had fled. His fists flexed at his sides. The night was only just beginning.

Author's Note:

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