Dark, putrid liquid ripples with every pounding step my boots take on the streets. I stalk past mazes of alleys with barrels of overturned garbage and chemicals, dismembered limbs littered amongst it. Wanted posters clutter the brick walls, some disintegrating to white mush on the ground.
Rotting flesh and blood hang in the air. All the more reason for the black mask stretched across my thin cheeks. It not only preserves my identity amongst enforcers and other assassins, but it staves off a little more of the assault on my nostrils.
A day ago, I thought I'd never return to this wretched maze of alleys. I thought I'd be on my way to finding my sister, or if not, in custody for breaking into Argon's apartment.
Arrested, or dead.
I have to remind myself that technically, I am on my way to finding Stellae. The next step just requires me to fuel up again.
Two breaths. That's all I need. One to get there and one to return.
As I round a corner, I spot a man in a leather tank top and pants leaning against a wall. White paper flecks his blond hair, and he twirls a dagger between his fingers. He glances up from the ground, and a cheshire grin spreads on his large, rounded cheeks.
"Aurablade! Haven't seen you 'round lately."
I grit my teeth. "Took a break."
"I've got customers counting on you." Boro's gaze drifts to the blade weaving between his fingers. Glowing light casts a green hue on his fat, stubby fingers, on the wide space where his index and middle fingers should've been.
"Well, I'm here to take on two more jobs," I say.
Boro raises a bushy eyebrow. "Two at once?"
"You heard me."
"Getting back in the game. That's what I want to hear." Boro shoves his knife into his pocket. "You know the way."
I follow Boro through the alley. The first time I came here, I tried to avoid the slush coating the ground. Now, my feet plow through it. The squishy substance is familiar in a way I never would've imagined.
Music and raucous laughter greet me part way through the dim passage. A grizzly bass thrums in my skull while metallic chords scrape the air. The ground underfoot practically trembles from the deep vibrations. A few people pass by, most of them clad in leather and sporting piercings and tattoos. My gaze flicks to my wrist, where my own assassin's symbol is inked into my flesh.
A brick wall rises before us, connecting with the subway tunnel that runs overhead. Four men stumble from a door by the end. Three have wild, bloodshot eyes, and I try to keep my head low. No matter how long I stay in this business, there's some people I just don't mess with, and that includes substance users.
One man, about a foot taller than me, breaks into a delusional grin, displaying a full set of tarnished silver teeth. He sways from side to side, and his entire body swings in my direction. I gasp, stepping toward the opposite wall. I wait for the men to teeter past before hurrying through the door that Boro holds open for me with a smirk.
The steady, electro-music burrows under my skin. Each beat of the drums is a pulse in my veins, and the guitar strumming is cold and metallic, like the braces encircling my knees. Clashing notes remain suspended over the din of conversation so that the very air I breathe emanates electricity.
This is the music of the city, of an cybernetic realm composed from metal, wires, and electrons.
This is the music of villains, a dark market where debts are enforced and revenge is bought with cash.
I am among the most ruthless individuals in the city. And I have become one of them.
Boro weaves between tables all packed into a sweaty, dimly-lit room. I duck as a tray soars over my head, carrying two drinks to a table behind me. I squeeze between chairs and leather, leather, and more leather. Seriously, I have never met an assassin who does not wear leather, no matter the shade, type, style, or cut.
"My star has returned!"
I jolt back to attention. Boro stands in front of a table in the far corner. A man in a dark, navy blue suit sits already, sipping a light brown liquid.
"She can pull the job?" he asks, bored.
"Tell her the details."
Boro takes the chair across from the customer, while I slide into the smooth, metal seat on the side, pushing the seat an inch away from them. He orders drinks while the customer fills me in on the assignment.
On the dark market, Boro is known as a "Link," someone who connects customers with assassins, thieves, and other hired criminals. He's one of many unofficial bosses who I can come to for jobs as I wish. Sometimes, Links will contact assassins for special assignments, but for most criminals, they have to take whatever jobs they are offered.
"It's a two-in-one," the man explains. "Break into the bank, kill the two men working there, open the vault, and leave as much money scattered on the floor, just to tick off the owners."
I nod. "How much?"
"Four-hundred for each piece."
He means each part of the job, totalling twelve-hundred. Not bad, especially if I can get two breaths out of it.
"Done."
The man nods. "It better be by tomorrow night."
"It'll be tonight."
A sharp look glints in the man's eyes. Three bright pink drinks float over to our table, and Boro unloads them, placing one in front of each of us.
"To seal off the done deal," Boro says.
"I don't drink on the job," I say. I adopted this policy from day one, mainly because I don't trust any drink spewed out from the bar.
Boro rolls his eyes. "Yeah, whatever." He downs the pink liquid in one gulp, then follows it with half of my glass. The man sniffs the liquid and raises it tentatively to his lips. He holds it there for a couple seconds, though I don't think he drank anything since the pink liquid doesn't decrease in volume when he returns it to the table.
"Very refreshing," he says.
Boro laughs. "You bet sweet mango fire is refreshing."
I can't tell if he's being sincere or sarcastic. It doesn't matter, though, because the man pushes back from the table.
"I'll send payment when I hear the job is done." He dips his head, eyes nervously darting around.
"Done deal," Boro says.
The man bustles toward the door.
"Any other jobs you want?" Boro practically shouts over the din, now drinking the man's untouched glass. "You wanted two."
"A double kill is enough," I reply.
Boro shrugs. "Suit yourself." He stands, stretching his massive, muscled arms overhead. "You hanging here for a bit?"
"I might."
Boro nods a few times, then pushes through the crowd. I'm left alone at the table, though with so many people around, the temperature is sweltering and hardly feels like I'm by myself. My gaze drifts to the electronic board on the back wall, depicting an array of the latest high-profile bounties. I slip toward it, unnoticed by this crowd of strangers.
It's possible that someone privately hired an assassin to kill Raena, but the board is still one of the best places to look. A small computer monitor is on the side of the screen, and I click on the previous history tab. I scroll through ad after ad, going back two, three, four months. Faces and names blur together as I scroll faster and faster.
Six months ago. Seven months ago. Eight. Nine.
I finally step away from the monitor, clicking a button so that the screen reverts back to the latest bounty. I glance around, but I don't sense anyone's eyes on me. Hopefully, no one will find me suspicious for scrolling through the previous bounties for so long.
I meander to the bar where a girl with silver bangs covering her face stands, wiping glasses with disinfectant. She glances up when I approach.
"Aura!" Cue says. "Long time, no see."
"Yeah, I've been busy." I slide into one of the bar stools. "I actually have a question."
"Sure." Cue's eyes return the glasses. Her hand makes quick circles with a cloth over the glass' surface.
"Have you ever heard anything about high profile hirings in the past six months?"
Cue frowns, but doesn't look up. "A few in gang two. Remember, there was the major enforcer assassination four months ago. And recently, I've heard rumblings about another."
"What about Argon or his family members?"
Now Cue's gaze startles up. "No, nothing that high up. Why?"
I chew my lip. Out of all the people here in the Market Tavern, Cue is probably the most trustworthy, and she collects quite a bit of information simply by working here. But I can never be sure who people ultimately report to. It's better to not reveal more than I have to.
"I've heard a few things about missing people," I say after a long pause. "Is there any way you could keep an ear out? Or maybe subtly ask around?"
Cue nods. "Of course. Anything you need." She smiles before returning to the glasses.
There isn't much more I can do right now. So far, it's not looking like an assassin was hired to kill Raena. My best chance is to go to the underworld and see if she's caught in an unconscious state, perhaps in a coma, or perhaps frozen in the CryoFuture's lab, though I can't understand why she would be used as a lab rat when so many others signed up for the experiment — including Stellae.
My sister.
I'll find you, I promise her. One way or another.
For now, I must prepare for tonight's job. I push my way through the crowd, leaving the tavern. I wish this is the last time I have to come here, but somehow, I doubt that will be the case.