Chapter 7

Things are just as bad as I thought. Yesterday night was fun – excluding the whole going to a bar part. I spent the night watching movies with Tick and Runt. I even cooked for them. But I had to lie to him in the morning. I lied to Tick. As soon as I told him I'm just going to go look for my mum, the guilt wrapped around me like a dirty blanket. And to add onto the dirty blanket, Kira lied to me too. The location was an old apartment building. Falling apart in front of my eyes. And to add onto the chaos, the group of twenty Rogues all had guns. Just as bad as I thought. Sometimes I should listen to my gut instead of my head.

Three large cleaning vans were parked on the street outside the building. It was only three stories tall, a red brick pattern making it stand out from the grays and blacks of the other apartment buildings next to it. It was a rundown area, trash littered the sidewalks, broken down cars worn away by time parked onto the curb. A homeless man played a loud game floating in the air in front of him.

"You know, you're pretty weird," Kira said. She was checking her guns again, the barrels getting a little too close to me on the small metal bench we were sharing. The Rogues opposite us were packing toolboxes with ammunition.

"I get that a lot," I mumbled. My arms crossed, trying to sink through the metal and out of the van. "It's a talent."

"Not like that," she chuckled. "Your green eye tells me you want a mini gun, your blue eye tells me you want nothing to do with this."

"I want nothing to do with this. At all!" I hissed.

My hiss fell on deaf ears. The Rogues in the van continued packing, checking and sorting weapons. We were all dressed in matching blue overalls, a cleaning company patch sewed onto the front.

One of the Rogues opposite me set down the toolbox and let out a sigh. He had tied back long dreadlocks, a cigarette cylinder pressed between thin lips. "I gotta ask. Are you actually the Stray?"

"No," I mumbled.

"Is it true you used to work on a skin farm?" he continued, drawing the eyes of everyone else in the van.

"… That's a hard one to explain." I avoided their rising eyebrows and surprised looks.

"Is it-"

"C'mon Stray, let's go." Kira stood up, everyone else apart from me doing the same. She tapped her ear and said, "Okay everyone, just like Hera said. My unit is coming with me, everyone else is going to wait around the surrounding buildings. Alert us if any Watchmen come close. Mei, you'll be coming with my unit."

"Mei? Isn't that the girl form yesterday? Why's she here?" I asked. My legs crossed over each other, arms still folded. I wasn't going anywhere. Not getting involved, just like Tick wanted.

"She deals with all the stuff Ceejay can't access," the guy with dreads explained.

The doors opened in the van, letting in waves of warm air. Wearing heavy overalls didn't seem like a good idea anymore. They all began climbing out, hefting up tool boxes. Kira stopped at the doors, a frustrated look on her face.

"The hell are you doing?"

"Chilling out."

"You're part of my unit, meaning we're heading up there," she said.

I shrugged, my metal shoulder chipping the black metal behind me. "Last time I checked I wasn't part of the Rogues."

She stomped back into the van, her hands firmly on her hips. "If you don't come with me I won't help you."

She let her words hang in the air. Her jaw was set. She wasn't joking. A strong smell of roses invaded my nose.

"Fine. But I'm not carrying a gun." I stood up, trudging my way out of the van.

"Your funeral," she shrugged.

We stepped onto the side walk, pedestrians passing by us. One thing I've learnt from walking around this country is that people don't care much about you if you don't look worthwhile. Seeing a group of teenagers in work clothes wasn't anything new, just a normal day in this amazing city. The two other vans sped off, joining the stream of electric cars.

Kira led us through the weak wooden double doors of the apartment. I stayed at the back of the group, just in case the shooting and the chaos started. Mei walked next to me, she was fidgeting with a silver cube, twisting and turning it. Its different compartments opening and closing randomly. She stuffed it into a bag hanging from her shoulder before I could ask what it was.

A lanky man in a red coat jumped up from the receptionist desk, dark circles thick around his eyes. "You must be the cleaning crew room 5B was talking about. Third floor to the left."

I was the only one to mumble out a 'thank you,' the rest of them stomping up the stairs. It sounded like an army marching in a small room, children squeezed past us, rushing down the stairs. Parents called after them, shoving us aside.

"Next time another person pushes past me I'm gonna blow a hole in them," the guy with dreads muttered.

"Save that for later," a girl with green hair said. She had a gravity around her, like what she said should be listened to.

Our group came to a stop outside a small brown door, the cream wallpaper around us chipped and peeling. The air was stale, pale lights flickered above us. The smell coming from underneath the door tugged at a memory, a memory old enough to only be a whisper, but clear enough to make me scrunch up my eyebrows.

"What's wrong, Stray? Cold feet?" Kira smirked, taking out her guns.

"No. I just, I think I've been here before. Or I know something about the smell coming from inside," I muttered, shying away from the wary looks they all gave me.

"What smell?" Green hair asked.

Whoops. I used the Unit without knowing. It happens when I don't concentrate on pushing it aside. I forced down the invader in my head, locking it away in a mental box.

"Nothing. Don't worry about it," I snuck a glance at a small photo I kept on me at all times. A woman with black hair. Blue eyes that could rival the ocean. A smile that could warm up any room. Who was she again? Mum. That's mum. A downside of the unit: it wrecks my memory.

They all turned back towards the door, rifles and pistols pointed at the floor. Mei and I stood away from the group. Kira put three ringers up, then two. On one she kicked open the door, the wood splintering. They all rushed into the room, a small boy shrieked as his toys were trampled on. I followed warily at the back of the group, Mei shut the door behind her. She set down the silver cube, a blue laser began scanning the room. She crouched down and began tapping and turning it again, oblivious to the crying boy.

A man staggered out of what seemed to be a small bedroom at the far end of the room. Dirty clothes hung off of him, a mop of gray hair falling to his shoulders. He packed heat. A silver shotgun in his bony hands.

"Get on the ground you dirty bastard," Kira yelled, pointing a gun at the stunned boy holding a dinosaur in his hand. "Or I'll blow the kid apart."

"Get away from him!" he shouted, spittle flying from his mouth. He switched on the shotgun, an electric wurr filled the room.

"How about we calm down?" I said, taking slow steps to cut Kira off from the boy. "Let's just put the guns down, and have a reasonable talk."

"Fuck talk. Let's get the credit bar and the weapons and get out of here." A boy with sandy blonde hair rushed the old man. The man staggered back as he pressed the trigger. A blue ball of electricity hit the boy, but nothing happened. The boy stopped his sprint, coming to a halt next to the single dirty window in the room.

"What the hell-"The boy popped. As in, blew up. He was everywhere. A red haze sprayed the room, plastering the brown walls and worn away furniture.

I spat out something I didn't want to know about.

"HE JUST BLEW UP HARRY!" Green hair shrieked.

The clicks of safety catches being turned off filled the room, guns raised on both sides. The little boy held onto my calf, stunned into silence.

"Stop!" I shouted, barely audible in the raging cries from the Rogues.

"JUST STOP." I stood in-between the old man and the group, my boots squelching as I stepped in Harry. This was one memory I wouldn't mind the Unit wiped away. The mangy smell of organs and blood was overpowering, I fought down the urge to empty my stomach.

The old man lowered his shotgun, his gray eyes blinking repeatedly. "Wait. You. Boy with the black hair, I know you." He took wary steps towards me, gun raised even higher. "You're, what was the name? Stray! Remember me? You helped me a few months ago with one of my projects."

"Stray, you know this fucker?" Kira's voice thick with venom, she had stripped away her overalls, her customary black trousers and long t-shirt clean and pressed.

"I ... Don't think so." I examined the man, I knew his face from somewhere. But it seemed distant. A few months ago, where was I? The Northeastern planes! "I remember you. You're The Blacksmith."

He lowered his gun. A smile crept across dry lips. "My, you look like you've grown a lot. How's your dog doing?"

"Sandy died a few weeks back," I smiled, a bit of Harry's blood seeped into my mouth, making me choke.

"Sorry for your loss. That little pup sure was a lot of help," he chuckled.

"I'm so happy that you get to catch up," Kira spat, stepping over Harry's puddle. "But we didn't come here to reminisce. You owe us fifty thousand credits and a shit ton of weapons. Get them. Now."

The man gave of an irritated huff and hobbled out of the room. Sounds of swearing and boxes moving drifted into ours.

The guns that were pointed at The Blacksmith were now pointed at me, hate seasoning a mixture of faces in different ways. Some of them snarled, others stone faced. All of them ready to give me the Harry treatment.

"What … what are you guys doing?" I stammered.

"You're in line with that old guy," Dreads snarled. "And he killed one of our own."

I turned around slowly, my heart punching out of my chest. "I didn't even recognize him at first, okay? So let's just chill out."

"Chill out?!" Green hair stepped forward, rifle a little too close to my chest. "Harry freakin' exploded and you want us to just chill out?!"

"Who's to say this wasn't Stray's plan all along?" a Japanese boy yelled.

"Yeah! He's probably with the 'keepers!" another girl shouted.

The old man rushed out, a heavy black cylinder strapped to his back. Long blocky fingers wrapped around the end of a hose. He squeezed the trigger on the hose. A long flame burst from it. Searing heat exploded into the room. The flame caught several bodies, charred before they hit the floor.

Green hair raged and emptied the clip of her rifle into the old man. The explosions from the gun shaking the floor. His body jerked backwards, shredded by bullets.

"WAIT! DON'T HIT THE-"A shockwave of heat flung me into the group, my head smacking a wall. The room tilted, my feet not underneath me. I staggered as I tried to stand.

I heard cries and shrieks as the fire spread around the room. Smoke choked out the oxygen. I gagged and puked, the smoke ravenous in my throat. Someone grabbed my arm and pulled me through the door. A soot covered Kira staggered into the hallway. She hacked up several coughs, dragging me down the flights of stairs. The smell of smoke filled the corridors, panicked screaming broke out and spread like a disease.

We fell onto the pavement. Four of us left. Green hair was frantically slapping her head, her hair singed. Dreads was cradling a bloody arm. Kira clung onto a duffle bag, weapons stuffed inside it. She rummaged through the bag, throwing aside different types of guns.

"Shit shit shit. The credit bar isn't in here!" she cried.

"Mei. Her silver cube probably scanned it," Dreads groaned. He collapsed into the arms of pedestrians gawking at the burning building.

I wobbled onto my feet. I could taste iron and smoke. I'd have puked more if I had anything left. I stumbled towards the door.

"Where the hell are you going?" Kira shouted.

"Mei. She needs help." I covered my face as a wave of heat burst through the door. The bricks would last a little longer, the wooden beams wouldn't. I willed the Unit on - a feeling like another person was taking over. Smells, sounds and tastes all amplified. The building would have at least a minute or two left before it came down. A chance.

"Don't be stupid," she shouted. The other vans had come back. "Forget the credit bar, we need to get out of here."

"I don't care about that," I shouted back. "There's a chance she's alive." I could see her heart beat up stairs. Weak. But still beating.

I tore off a piece of fabric from the overalls and tied it around my mouth and nose. The smoke is the one that gets you. I rushed inside the building. It creaked and groaned, the fire bellowing down the stairs. I leaped over fallen beams, walls crumbled and fell in around me. Mei's heartbeat getting fainter.

I pushed through the flames at the end of the stairs. My heartbeat thumping in my ears, my stomach in my throat. The smoke stung my eyes as I wobbled through the remains of the room.

"Mei," I called – a whimper, lost in the crashing of beams. Louder, "Mei!"

"Here!" Her shrill voice coming from the opposite side of the room.

The floor caved in. Cement and metal groaned and complained, finally ripping apart and collapsing. A plume of dust and smoked blinded and choked me. I willed the Unit on again. It showed me a way. One way. Jump across the gap, but it didn't show me how to get back. I took a step back and hurled myself across the gap, clinging onto the other side with my metal arm. I pulled myself up, the hot metal burning the overalls. I crawled across the floor and into the room.

Mei was cradling the silver cube and a body. The boy's body. His head was limp, his tiny chest still. I scampered onto my feet, the heat in the room wasn't as intense as the rest of the building. The smoke was worse than the rest of the building. I reached out blindly and grabbed her shoulder.

"Can you stand?" I wheezed.

She shook her head violently. She pointed to her leg – twisted at an angle that it shouldn't have been able to be at.

The building swayed, plaster fell from the ceiling in a fine dust. At this rate we'd be choked out by the dust and smoke. We wouldn't be able to go back down the stairs. One more option, jump. I stumbled to the far wall, pressing my hands against it. Feeling, searching, looking for … found it! I slammed my metal arm through the window, its frame shattering and falling to the pavement below. A crowd of people gazed up at me. The sudden rush of oxygen invited more fire into the room, it crept across it, destroying everything in its path.

I cradled Mei, she cried out as my arm left a burn on her thigh. I staggered under her weight. I staggered because I was barely breathing. Sucking down smoke and dust. My legs barely supporting us. I threw one leg over the windowsill, then the next until I was perched on it. The heat burnt my back, the faint smell of burning hair filled my crying lungs.

I prayed to every god I knew, stuck out my metal arm, and jumped out the window.