Kieran couldn’t get out of Atlantic soon enough. He had moved into a full-fledged march from the scene of the murder, moving quickly and as seamlessly as possible. He had indeed hoped that the AE officer he had paid off wouldn’t have been so trigger-happy, but what could he expect? Atlantic, or Unity, or subsection F, or however anyone wanted to refer to it was a shithole. And he knew people would look down on him for thinking so, but it was simply what he thought. There were three types of subsections in Kieran’s minds. The first was the wealthy—the upper class of Apex, who conflated the rest of the city with cockroaches, which made sense, seeing as how they disposed of their hired help with about as much decency as you would show a rotting trash pile. Any time Kieran spent in the more wealthy subsections made him want to vomit. He distinctly remembered one trade he had made in subsection A. A particularly well-off real estate developer, who specialized in the renovation of retrograde homes, had paid Kieran well to hand off a bribe to local squatters in a property he was hoping to renovate. After Kieran had done so, he could distinctly remember the real estate developed wiping his hands after handing Kieran payment. Even as an official worker, he was seen as scum. The next type of subsection were subsections like B, which minded their own business. These subsections weren’t always impoverished, but they were filled with people focused on survival over grand ideations of freedom. These people flourished within an unfair system by focusing on doing everything necessary to keep AA out of their business. In essence, Kieran’s people. Then you had places like Atlantic. Places where people were focused on escaping the system, bucking the government, stuff like that. And while a small part of Kieran respected such a strict focus to ideals, the result of that focus was tyranny. AA and AE officers would flood the place with killings in the street, strict rules on travel and work, anything to keep the whispers of rebellion squashed. The net result was a place Kieran disliked being in most of all. Because they weren’t shitholes because they were dirty, no, it was because the endless skirmishes between citizens and officials left the subsections more like warzones than homes, with eyes everywhere and Kieran’s type of work impossible to perform. As Kieran made his way out, he locked eyes with a woman that looked roughly his age. She was frail, perhaps not starving but simply lighter than she probably ought to be. Her eyes held a beauty to them, which shone through darkened rings that Kieran couldn’t identify as makeup or lethargy. She clutched a litter grabber in her hand. But what made her notable wasn’t that she had locked eyes with him. She seemed to note him. Size him up from the moment they saw each other. And that alone was enough to make him anxious. He broke eye contact and made his way to the closest train station he could. As he had thought earlier, he intended never to enter Atlantic again. [center]***[/center] The rest of the day saw a mostly routine operation. Kieran headed back into subsection B, first stopping in Port Apex since the noon shipment would have long since arrived. The waifish port boys handed Kieran a few packages marked for him. Inside, he found the usual contraband. Large, ornate swords that a client near the center of Apex had ordered to hang in his home. A few pieces of jewelry likely picked from the corpses of former aristocrats buried on Vashon Island, where Apex sent all of the dead. A disc, likely containing either old movies or pornography, ordered by a particularly neurotic boy in The Square. He packed up the things and went out to make a few deliveries. Over the next few hours, Kieran did what he did best; dropping off products, picking up payments, and taking new orders from those who knew and stopped him. By the evening, he had likely racked up a few hundred dollars all to himself. Perhaps this day was going his way after all. As he was making his way to Port Apex to take a shower and finally sleep, he was stopped by a familiar face; a repeat customer of his that went by Cale. “Yo, Key!” He called out to Kieran. When he turned, he saw the younger man approach. Cale had been a port boy up until about a year ago when he enlisted as an AE junior officer. Or, in other words, an informant. “What’s up, Cale?” Kieran asked. “I was just heading back home.” He hoped Cale would take his polite hint and leave him be. He did not. “I’ve got a really easy job for you. Pays as well as I can manage, but…it has to be done now.” “Sorry, Cale,” Kieran apologized, already turning away from the young man, “I’m done for the day. But tomorrow—” “This can’t wait,” Cale interrupted, his tone sharper than before, which stopped Kieran flat. “I’m sorry, I just—” Cale started, then stopped. His words came in short, pained bursts. “Just one message, delivered verbally, tonight.” He pulled a sizable sum from his pocket. “I’ll pay you three hundred, flat, right now.” “Excuse me?” Kieran asked. He tried to stop himself, but he simply couldn’t. Cale was offering to [i]double[/i] his nightly income. There had to be a catch. “You just gotta head to a tavern out in Atlantic for me.” [i]…and there’s the catch.[/i] “Shit,” Kieran muttered. “What’s the message?” Cale straightened up. “You gotta promise to deliver it, and tell no one else, okay? Then I’ll tell you.” Kieran rolled his eyes. “I’m a Runner, Cale. I’m not going to go around spilling your secrets.” “…and promise not to laugh.” “Okay,” Kieran said. “I promise. On my life, sure, just tell me!” Cale took a moment, then leaned in. “You’ll head to the tavern on Bayview and Rainier. Look for a bartender by the name of Teegan. Make sure it’s her, then tell her…” Cale’s cheeks turned beet red. “[i]Tell her Cale needs his leather next time we play.[/i]” Now Kieran’s cheeked turned red. “You swore you wouldn’t laugh,” Cale muttered. Kieran stifled himself as best he could. “Cale, buddy, You couldn’t have told her yourself?” “We don’t see each other often, okay?” Cale defended. He started to walk away. “Hey, I’m not judging,” Kieran started, “You guys can do whatever you’d like together. I’m just saying—” “Just go, okay!” Cale called back as he left. “Atlantic has a curfew, you know!” [center]***[/center] Sitting in the corner of the train to Atlantic, Kieran couldn’t help but think about the lunacy of today. He had started out contributing to a man’s murder, swearing off Atlantic and thinking he’d never return…only to be back before the end of the day. Passing on what was no doubt some sexual request between two lovers. Or what was assumedly two lovers. Kieran couldn’t help but wonder the specifics there. Still, money was money, and money didn’t discriminate or dabble in morality, and by extension, neither did Kieran. He found the tavern with little incident, asking for directions once or twice. He was much calmer this time around, as he had left his bag home and could easily pretend he was out for pleasure, not business. While the Runners in this subsection may not like it, he was free to travel as he pleased. And, once he found this Teegan person and he was sure no one suspected a thing, he could discreetly pass along the message, have a drink, and head home on the last train before curfew—quite a simple task. Inside, Kieran found a different size of Atlantic than he had seen before. Here, people played darts and board games on desks along the walls. They talked and joked and laughed. There was even a guitarist and vocalist in the corner, adding to the cacophony of noise being generated inside. Kieran had hoped this was a part of town a lot more like subsection B than the rest of Atlantic. A place where people lived, played, and mostly avoided confrontation. He picked a spot at the end of the bar, ensuring to nod to the people he had eye contact with. For a visit such as this, he needed to blend in by being just another friendly patron. As the bartender approached, Kieran waved her down. “Rum and simple syrup if you don’t mind,” he asked her. Before he turned, he continued. “And do you know if Teegan is on shift today?” “You’re speaking to her,” Teegan replied. “Awesome,” he casually continued. He tried to think of a polite way to phrase the message but wasn’t sure if it were even possible. “I’ve got a friend that wants you to bring leather next time you guys meet. Goes by Cale? Any of that ring a bell?” Teegan straightened up a bit and blushed. She nodded, momentarily speechless. “And I really do want that drink, by the way,” he said. She snapped out of her momentary embarrassment and nodded. “Thanks for the, uh…message,” she managed to say. “I’ll get you that drink.” And with that, Kieran turned to face the center of the tavern and leaned with his back to the bar. An easy job. Kieran might have even thought the day had ended perfectly if it hadn’t been for the ale that just splashed at his side and front. [i] “Wow, I am so sorry,”[/i] a voice came. “Woah, shit,” Kieran let out. “You’re good. You just caught me off-guard. You okay--?” His question was stopped suddenly as he saw who had spilled the drink. Those same eyes, that same frame. It was the girl from earlier. [i]Fuck.[/i] His mind raced to think of his options as she hastily apologized and tried to clean his shirt. But before he could come up with something, she continued. [i]”I saw you earlier! At the other tavern. I’m Aura.”[/i] Kieran thought hard about if he had met any Aura’s before, but he drew a blank in this moment. He had been caught completely off-guard, completely expecting to have the evening to himself. Now he had to figure out what this Aura girl wanted, why she had so clearly sought him out, and what it all meant. God, he hoped she wasn’t another Runner. He didn’t need another dispute on his hands. [i] “You like darts?”[/i] ‘Real subtle,’ Kieran thought to himself. He thought for a moment, then saw Teegan return with his drink. He slipped out a few dollars (plus a tip for her embarrassment) and handed it to her. “I haven’t played much,” Kieran answered truthfully. He was no doubt going to have to lie over the course of this conversation, so the more truth he gave her, the easier it would be for him to remember. He took and shook her hand briefly. “And yeah, I did see you earlier.” If this Aura person was hoping he would volunteer precisely why Kieran had been in town and involved in that shooting or even his name, she had another thing coming. She was going to have to ask for herself. And he was going to have to figure out how to handle this situation, and fast. “I am down to learn, though,” he continued, hoping to be invited to a game. A game meant he could easily think. Easily focus. And hopefully stall until curfew, when Aura would likely have to head home, and Kieran could easily travel freely with his Runner’s Stamp and ID. He took a large swig of the rum he had ordered, downing almost half of it at once. He figured he’d need it.