When I arrived at the fringes of Aythryn City? I thought it was a dream. I drove around, entering from way off than I usually did just in case. No idea if they'd have people out tracking. I moved as inconspicuously as possible. My day job gave me enough training in that, even if it didn't put much food on the table.

When I felt the spring rain on my face? I thought it was an illusion. Only the briefcase and broke wrist affirmed that his was indeed reality.

When I pulled into the Little Yukoto district, struck with its familiar places? I realized it was a miracle. A miracle I even got out of that alive, let alone with potential loot in tow. Whatever was in that briefcase? It was important enough that man spent his last protecting it.

When I arrived in my home sub-district, I finally awoke from my stupor. More accurately, the acute pain throughout my body woke me up. My wrist was all broken and blistering, and the rest of me wasn't much better. Blood leaked through the gaps in my tattered clothes from over a dozen small cuts.

I carefully drove down the streets of Ryu Container Yard. It was a massive shipping yard full of abandoned cargo containers. Once upon a time ago, it'd been right on the shores of the ocean. With the recession of the water levels? It was a stranded port inevitably devoured by the city over the decades. The rest of Aythryn Code wrapped around the rusting yard.

The stranded cargo containers? Repurposed into cheap homes. It was barely up from living off the streets, but at least it. Had a roof if nothing else. The place was town in its own right, built up by the 'good' people to poor to go elsewhere.

Containers stacked upon each other, each forming a building in this container town. Varied bits of shops and residences sat slapped together with neon acting as the glue. It was blinding to my pounding head during my drive through the gravel streets.

The sub-district was dingy. It was trashy. It reaked of cheap Tosta and even cheaper cigarettes. And yet? It was home. Or, at least, as much home as anywhere else would be in this forsaken city.

I rode through the long blocks of the yard. Occasionally what used to be freight warehouses broke up the mish-mash of containers. All around the yard, the city dominated the skyline with their abusively bright lights shining down on us. It sat just to the north of the city center, with the megabuildings edging ever closer from the Corporate Quarter of Downtown.

People were out and about, creating obstacles to doge around. They chilled outside container shops and stores, enjoying life the best most people knew how. They nursed a cold one, a box of smokes, or some kind of drug. Most of the time? All three.

I felt accusatory eyes crawl all over me, as if they knew what I just did. It took all I had to resist straightening my spine. The gangs here? All they needed was just one reason. One excuse to come mess with me, and they'd find it. I couldn't risk that. I forced the downed and destitute persona as best I could. It was easy. Natural. It wasn't even necessarily a persona in the first place.

The overwhelming colors of the different crates, all illuminated by overpowering lights and adverts, permeated this area. From the shadows, I felt even more people watching me. Even knowing it was in my head didn't help the unease in which I sailed under the occasional street lamp and chunk of neon.

I pulled in front of one of the crates, parking my bike. From the crate, a voice called out. "Shiro? That you, dearly?"

"Chek. How are you, Granny Smith?" I asked politely toward a shadow pressed into the crate's security grate.

"Same old, as per usual. You don't look so hot." The old woman commented. Did she know? No- there was no way. Just being paranoid. Calm down. Calm down, Shiro.

I grabbed the briefcase with my good hand and headed for the ladder on the side of her crate. "J-just got into a tussle. You know how it is."

"Do I!" The old woman who lived under my crate laughed lightly. "Let me know if anyone's messing with you, dear."

I tossed the briefcase to the top of the ladder and grabbed onto it. I bowed lightly toward the shadow of the elder. "Thank you!'

I worked my way up the ladder welded onto her shipping container, stepping onto the 'balcony' of my own crate. To be honest, it was probably just where some slags put the security grate too far back. Not a true balcony in the slightest. There was barely enough room to stand, let alone do anything else.

I snatched the briefcase and shot one last uneasy glance toward my bike. Thankfully I didn't have to worry about someone grabbing my bike. I had an agreement with the granny living below that she would pop anyone trying to take it as long as I kept quiet during her TV set's prime time.

I shook off as much sand as I could outside the door. After putting in my security code, undoing the several deadbolts, and opening the other security door, I carried the briefcase into my place. It was small, sure, but it was home. Man, was it good to be back.

I set the case down and let out a shaky breath. I really didn't think I was going to make it this time. I'd done some risky stuff in the past, but that took the cake. I plugged in my handheld radio and shot a look around by home, making sure everything was still where it belonged.

The place had just enough space for a bed and tiny kitchenette. It was small, of which there was no doubt in my mind, but it was cheap. Free, actually, thanks to the generosity of the Fangs. I can't even imagine what I would've done if I hadn't managed to get this place.

I settled down on the corner of my bed and checked on my left wrist. Definitely broken. Every twist sent a sharp pain jolting up it. Consider my usual profession? It was potentially a devastating blow. I couldn't even grip anything with it. My wrist just hung, hurting like hell.

I'd have to go see my Medek. It'd chew into what little was left of my savings, but… he wasn't open at this hour. I'd have to try and sleep off what I could. It looked like I was left-handed for the foreseeable future.

Before that, though, the briefcase I risked life and limb for called to me like a siren. I still hadn't even checked my ill-gotten loot. I was just so focused on getting back to safety that I completely blanked on it. I dragged myself over and popped it open.

The briefcase was filled with important-looking documents covered in barely legible script. There was also a small phone, but I'd already acted suicidal enough for one night. No way I'd turn it on. Who knows. What kind of tracking tech was in that thing?

Great. Just great. I almost got myself killed for- for what? A few pieces of paper-

I forced myself to take a calming breath. Maybe I was looking at this wrong? Obviously, the man thought they were important, and whoever shot him thought they were important enough to slab the guy over. And he had been at least a high level Merc with that amount of cybernetics. No way someone like that would die over just some papers.

I settled down at my small desk and flipped through the papers. Most of it was technical jargon that flew over my head. One thing did stand out to me though; the triangular shield crossed over a spear. The corporate logo of Sentinel.

After the first couple pages, I realized it was the blueprints to some kind of experimental implant. I pass through a dozen other pages, stumbling across weapons. Everything from basic pistols to electromagnetic weapons of mass destruction. I think. It was hard to tell, and everything blurred together.

So, the merc, from Raijin International, stole experimental data from Sentinel? Sentinel was the premier expert in military cybernetics and weaponry, so any data from them would be valuable. Data that I now had in my hands.

In a word? Dead. I was so irreversibly dead if- no, when Sentinel found me. They'd probably string me up from the rafters just for even glancing at these. Fuck. Millions of scenarios ran through my head. It wasn't until early in the morning that I finally managed to get to sleep.

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— — —

I cracked my eyes open. My left one refused to budge, crusted over as usual. I rubbed at the low end cyber-eye. My head pounded and my wrist throbbed. What-

I stared a message floating in my HUD for several seconds. My eye was only a low-end ASCorp Genov-4 Optic. It barely let me see, let alone had HUD integration. How was this possible?

「Connect to the Net

- 3 Traits」

I blinked a couple of times and the notification disappeared. Weird. Not that I have time to worry about my chrome glitching. My wrist, the briefcase, the stolen Sentinel- each was more pressing than the last. They were literal ticking time bombs just waiting to blow me away.

After an exciting meal of Silage ExtraBland™, I hid the papers behind the liner of my fridge. It was the best I could manage for now. I grabbed the case and phone. They'd have to go. Too risky keeping them.

I strapped my gun in, and darted down the ladder for my bike. I worked my way through the winding gravel streets of the Ryu Container Yard and out into the city proper.

Just outside of the outskirts, I stopped at a bodega and bought some pain meds. They somewhat helped the utter agony in my wrist, but only just. The pain dropped to a dull throb. Just like that, what little of Rayn I had left flew away.

The streets were still slick as my shoddy dirt bike slid over them. The moody sky above and eye-bleeding neon duplicated in the roads. People strode out and about and cars moved constantly, just as they always did in the city that never rests. Should've called it Restless instead of something stupid like Aythryn.

I nearly ran over a homeless man lunging out in front of my bike. I only just managed to swerve around the spasming man. Traffic behind me slowed to a crawl, though thankfully I managed to get around it.

Little Yukot… really, it was a beautiful section of the city. As long as I ignored the trash, both human and not, everywhere. Unfortunately, the condition only declined the further I went from the main streets patrolled by the Blue Crusade, the main policing force of Aythryn City.

First stop, a trash compactor on the far side of the district. These days, most garbage trucks only picked up from compacting stations. This was the best place to get rid of any trackers, should there be any. Once I tossed it, I headed back with far lighter steps. Sometimes the best plan was just a simple one.

As for the phone… there was another compacting site a few blocks away. Did I even want to trash it though? I had some connections. They could check it out. See if it was bugged. If it wasn't- I needed a new phone. It'd be a waste of lux goods to just toss it like that. The phone was several dozen generations better than what I had.

With that taken care of, I started the long drive back north. Back toward the Corporate Quarter at the heart of the city. The condition improved somewhat as I trekked past block after block.

The buildings themselves became more and more structurally sound. Even with the odd mix of jut outs and tiled roofs, it was far better than even a brutalist building on the edge of the city. Holographic koi fish swam over the road projected a nearby zen garden.

The street and walkways were mostly covered by the hyperdense buildings protruding above. The shadowed alleys became even darker as the city's density spiked.

Vendor carts sat scattered about, offering all sorts of foods and wares. And, of course, neon spilled from literally everywhere. It's almost as if the people above thought the bright and flashy colors could take away from the oppressive feeling of this place. It was sickening, and yet it was home.

Little Yukoto was much more dense then other districts, with graffiti and eastern architecture spread all throughout. It was fitting considering its namesake. The district was literally named after the capital city of Ukiyon to the far east.

I drove under the red gates and swaying lanterns alongside the traffic. Driving like this was nice, sometimes. Almost like I could just keep ahead of my problems. Like they couldn't keep up with me, or something.

Eventually the eastern touches faded. The buildings became taller and taller, stretching into the sky. I left behind the rest of Little Yukoto for the sub-district of Sabyt. This one was pressed right up alongside the Corporate Quarter and absolutely covered in business trying to make their way.

I parked my bike close to a group of Blue Crusade Squires slacking off and headed down to Viceroy Street. It was the same mess as every other street, and yet? It felt calmer, almost. Maybe it was the influence of the man that lived nearby that I felt like this? He was literally the most human person I knew.

Still, could never be too careful. I checked my pistol, its weight on my hip a small comfort. I stepped into a back alley. It was usually a very, very poor idea to do such a thing in this city. There were a few exceptions though. This was one of them.

I walked back behind the storefronts towards the middle of the block. No streets led back here, and the back alleys were a mess of confusion that always took me just too long to get through. At least it was clean- err, cleaner than most back alleys. There were even kids out playing with a ball under the watchful eye of their gun-toting parents.

The alleys here weren't quite like the others and had residential doorways leading right out onto them. There was even the occasional store, though most were small in scale. Probably due to only serving the nearby residents. It was very much out of the way.

It wasn't long till I neared a central middle courtyard. This place was one of few throughout the city with real plant life. An ancient willow tree sat in the middle, its bark cracked and torn with age. Yet still it grew. Whip-like tendrils of leaves gently swayed in the middle of the place. A couple of kids gleefully played tag under the tree, creating a weird space that felt untainted by the rest of the world.

Not far away sat the rickety sign hanging over my destination: Absolom Clinic. Oddly, the neon from the light was one of the only lights in the small courtyard, at least on the first floor. It made the secluded destination stand out even more than it should've anywhere else.

I opened the door and stepped in. A bell chimed gently overhead thanks to my motion. Immediately, the scent of industrial cleaners hit me. Like what a hospital smelled like, I think. But this was no Medtech hospital. Its walls were good ole concrete, not the white panels I'd seen in shows. The lighting was also quite dim, like what I imagine a personal garage would be like.

An elevated surgical chair sat in the middle of the place. It predominantly took up the majority of the space. Complicated machinery and scanners I wouldn't be able to point out from other bits and bobs sat all around.

The man himself, my Medek, stood off to the side of the surgical part of the clinic. He glanced up from a book, looking me over. A moment passed before his eyes really focused on me. A faint trace of a smile graced his lips. "Shiro! Come on in, kid."

"Hey, Neal." I stepped further into the clinic. A bright smile sprung to my face. It was hard not to grin in his almost radiant presence. As I said, the most humane person I'd ever met.

The faint smile faded. His eyes snagged on my wrist. I wasn't even holding it weird or anything. He knew just like that. Neal patted the chair. "Take a seat."

"Chek." I slid over to the chair.

The man began gathering some supplies and pulled a cart over to the chair. "Anything else hurt?"

"A few cuts… my eye is glitching too." I raised my left hand to it, rubbing slightly-

"Don't touch it then, kid." Neal shook his head a few times. He easily pulled over a few machines to start doing scans. "You've got some ancient tech. No telling what's broken with it. What happened to your wrist?

"I uh-" If Sentinel gets to me, I don't want to implicate him… I can't do that to Nael. "I slipped off my bike."

He leaned closer to a monitor. His frown deepened. "Are you su-"

"Say, how's business?" Yep! Perfect distraction, as always. Great job, Shiro! Just gotta line a dozen more of those up.

"About the same. I have some guys from Athena coming over in a couple of hours… you get to the Outskirts recently?" He asked, sliding over to a terminal. He stretched out a hand toward me.

I pulled out my jack and passed it over. He immediately plugged it in. A warm buzz of electricity pass through me. "Uh- yeah. Last night. I watched the sunset. Super peaceful. Nothing happened."

"That's great, kid. Your eye looks good to me. I'll reset it in a bit to be sure." The table holding the terminal swiveled off to the side. The divider between us suddenly took me off guard. "It's good you're doing something for your soul… just be careful out there, yeah?"

I laughed with a bit of over-the-top arrogance. "Of course, Nael. Careful is my middle name!"

He lifted the scanners back into position. "Rrrighhht… careful, she says. Just like you carefully slipped? Your cuts are full of sand."

"It uh, it was an accident? You know how the streets get…"

"The streets… in the desert…" He shot me a look over the top of the scanner. "Yeah, I know how they can get. Next time use a bit of disinfectant? Or at least wash them out. A little today goes a long way to your future."

"Ah, ha-ha… Yeah." Why didn't I think of that last night? Completely slipped my mind in the panic of everything. Cleaning wounds was, like, Medicine 101.

Nael sighed and he flipped a terminal around to me. An image of what looked like scattered marshmallows sat pinned on- Oh, was that my wrist? Yeah- yeah, that looks bad. Were bones supposed to shatter like that?

"Your 'fall' entirely shattered your wrist." The Medek tapped part of the terminal showing the broken bone. "Then it looks like you kept using it, slag. The bones have been entirely pulled out of alignment. It's no small miracle they haven't pierced through yet."

That would explain why the pain in my wrist had felt piercing this morning. I guess it was a good thing I got some pain meds? I feel good now, so its not really much of an issue. "Is it… fixable?"

"I'll have to go in and reset the bones and Interface Plugs… hmm… maybe use a Calipen?" He muttered under his breath and pulled over a tank of some kind. "Sorry, what did you ask, kid?"

"Can you fix it?"

"Of course. Doc is my middle name, after all." He chuckled and passed me a mask connected to the tank. "When you wake up, you'll be as good as new."

Unlike in most places- every other place, I trusted Nael. He had done good by my parents and had yet to let me down. "Thank you, Nael."

He waved a hand and went to gather a few other items. "Yeah, yeah… sweet dreams, kid."

I pulled the mask over my face and immediately felt the fumes begin to take effect.

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