Pale Ryder

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I wake up staring at my arm

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I wake up staring at my arm. The skin is red and shiny and roiled with scars. Nearly healed already, less than a day after my skin was a literal ball of flame. Amazing.

But I don't have time to worry about my arm—not now. Time to get the fuck out of dodge! I glance at Alexis Brinker and I realize with a bit of regret that she won't be joining my escape. I don't think she'll ever wake up again, actually. She's pale and cold and the blood on her lip has dried to a crust.

Useless.

Oh well. There are plenty of other siphons in the world. I'll find more.

I haul myself to my feet and, feeling slightly dizzy, I step out of the semi truck, which is parked under a sheet-metal awning in an overgrown parking lot full of weeds and broken bottles. A perfect hiding place, I must admit. I'm amazed Alexis had the capacity to find it without my guidance. Once again, I feel a pang of regret over losing such a valuable siphon.

"Keep focused," I tell myself as I walk past an abandoned house out to the road and pull out my phone. Still no messages from anyone.

"Well fuck this."

That's it. I'm going to go to the Hacienda to confront these assholes. It's time to put an end to this nonsense once and for all.

I open my Ryde app and call for a lift.

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