Chapter 10

"Every freaking day it's the same thing with you," Kira yelled, slamming her palm onto the white marble island in her open kitchen.

"Why do you have a problem with me having breakfast?" I shot back. "Every morning it's the same thing with you."

"I only have a problem because you keep using my money to buy your damn groceries," she shouted. She pushed away the plate of pancakes I had made for her. The same with the rest of the breakfast I had made.

"But I make breakfast for you too!"

"I don't want your damn breakfast, Stray."

We'd been staying together for a week now, and we argue. Everyday. Mostly because she would have a fit about me cooking almost anything. She practically lived off of alcohol, candy and food pills. The weirdest part about that? She was rich. Food pills were made for the homeless so they had something to keep them going. But Kira had money. Penthouse overlooking the Gray money. A bot that made sure none of her clothes ever had creases money.

But I understood why she would get so angry. Another thing I learnt about her is that she keeps everything in order. Her penthouse was spotless. The large glass windows like crystals, the balcony with its wooden floor always clean – at night you could see the entire city, the air was cleaner up here too. She also had a dining table a few paces away from the kitchen island, soft red chairs around it – sadly she never let me sit on any (I once tried and she almost shot me.)

A few more steps and you'd be in the living room. A spotless white floor with a black 'L' shaped couch facing a massive flat screen. There was an upstairs but she didn't allow me there either. She forced me to sleep on the couch – after I paid her that is. Another thing I had found out about her is that she loved plants, they were everywhere. Mostly green bushes that stood in the corners of black walls. A small rose pot had been put on the table, it hadn't sprouted yet.

But there were two constants in here. It always smelt different each hour. Sometimes like honey, sometimes like strawberries, but it always matched Kira. The second thing was the loneliness. The penthouse had an echo, every small movement you made was amplified. A deafening silence that couldn't be masked by money.

She stood up and stormed off upstairs. She had been spending a lot more time up there ever since I moved in. I had tried to apologize, but she wasn't having it. She couldn't even stay in the same room as me for longer than a few minutes.

"You want me to bring them up there?" I called.

The deafening sound of her door slamming shut was an answer enough.

I'd been masking my frustration in smiles and jokes, but I still wasn't happy with either Kira or Hera for what they had planned. But I'd had a realization one night on the couch whilst I was staring at the ceiling – everyone in the city knew that Stray was here. It was going to be a matter of time before my name leaked too. With that, Mum would know I'd be here. I'd just have to wait. But people knowing my full name would come with its own issues. Hera knew my full name, she had a noose around my throat. A leash. Insurance in case I ran away.

Tick burst into existence in front of me, making me spill juice over the counter. The glass rolled off the table and smashed, small diamonds covered the wood. I glared at Tick's hologram. I waited for Kira to come and crucify me. I held my breath and began cleaning the mess, glancing at the stairs.

"Caught you at a bad time?" Tick asked.

"Stray!" Kira's voice filled the giant space. "You better tell me that sound came out of your mouth."

I rushed to sweep up the glass. The juice was already soaking up into a cloth. Kira's stomping getting closer. Tick pestering me with questions. I smelt a rainstorm, probably Kira. Loud explosions from outside – fireworks for Memorial Day. She finally appeared at the bottom of the steps. Her arms crossed, fury incarnate a presence around her.

I dropped the last of the towels into a cleaning bot and pushed it away with my foot, its whir fading as it went down a corridor.

She looked at Tick, and then back at me. "What? Having a little get together?"

I tried to find words, none of them came to me.

Tick's hologram sighed into a chair. "He was only cleaning up a little bit of dirt."

"The only dirt in this place is him," she spat, jerking her head towards me.

"Well that's not nice, considering I made you pancakes."

"Fuck your pancakes."

"You made her pancakes? Dude, how come you haven't made some for me?" Tick cut in.

"Because I haven't seen you in a week, man. You just ghosted," I said. "Would have been nice to at least hear from you once in a while."

Tick rubbed his temples. Even from the blue haze of the hologram I could see the bags under is eyes. "I'm sorry about how I snapped at you. I've been stressed out."

I put my hand on his shoulder, metal against pixels. "Dude, it's okay. Why don't we meet up today, at the festival?"

"Great. You two can continue flirting down there." Kira began retreating up the stairs.

"Why don't you come with us?" I called.

I heard her footsteps come to a halt. "Never."

"C'mon Kira. Just this once," Tick joined in. "If you come with us then I'll take Dan off your hands. He'd be my problem afterwards."

"Problem? Really?"

Kira came back down. Her red long sleeved t-shirt stark against the blacks and whites of her penthouse. "Fine. That's a deal. I'll finally be able to do what I want around here without him around."

**

Heavy thuds against concrete. Boots knocking against trash strewn over the tarmac. Power cables crossed overhead, flashy signs hanging from shops. Fifty foot walking holograms of the Founder, spreading his arms and waving to couples in balconies and on the ground. Music pulsed through the city, confetti covered the streets. Alcohol flowed, cheers and dancing filled the Gray.

At the edge of the stream of people moving through the city, Bacchus stood. His glare making people give him a wide berth. A heavy bag pulled down on his shoulder, thick beard speckled with alcohol. He had another bottle in the bag. Just one more drink, a cheers to the man he killed years ago. And then he'd take out the other thing in the bag. The thing that would reduce the population.

He gulped down the bottle in his fist and threw it into an open restaurant, the yells of protests coming from inside. He unzipped the bag and opened the final bottle.

He raised it towards the hologram and said, "Cheers you old bastard. I'll be seeing you soon."

**

Food, alcohol, confetti and fireworks. Everywhere. The fireworks popped overhead, the hologram waved, food sizzled and confetti colored the Gray. I'd seen parties before, a lot more since I'd been stuck with the Rogues, but nothing compared to this.

Kids sprinted around the streets, faces painted and high on candy. Even the occasional Watchman would be seen drinking or singing songs. People in suits mingled with half naked teenagers, all of them having a good time. This was the one day in this city that everyone could just let loose and have fun, a let out of stress and anxiety. Shame that my heart couldn't stop trying to tear itself out of my chest every time cheers would get louder. They were erratic, one after the other.

I was intimidated by the massive crowd. I'd never been around so many people at once. Breathing was harder than it should have been, cooler sweat hanging around my neck.

"Dude are you okay?" Tick asked, an eyebrow raised, bags around his eyes thicker. His eyes kept darting from face to face, like he was trying to look for someone.

"Yeah … peachy. Just fine," I said, faking a grin. "Are you? You've been acting a little strange ever since we met up."

"Yeah, I'm … do you have a cylinder on you?"

"I don't smoke, Tick. You know that."

"I got one," Kira sighed. She dug a hand into her trousers and handed him a red cylinder. She was a little drunk, she started gulping down beer as soon as her boots touched the concrete. And somehow, she still smelt like roses. The one smell that was out of place in the raging party.

He fiddled with the cap, his hands shaking until the cylinder dropped. The river of feet swept it away.

"Tick. What's wrong?" I put a hand on his shoulder, he swatted it away.

"Sorry. I just …," he gripped onto my arm, "We need to leave. Right now."

"But we just go here," I complained.

"Oh come on, Dan. I can practically see the social anxiety pouring out of you. Let's just go." His grip got tighter.

"Oh shit. No wonder you're sweating," Kira yelled, her words slurring. "Thought you took something like Mars powder."

Is everyone in this city high off something? Everyday?

"Tick-"

Screams cut me off. And not the screams of someone winning a game at one of the stalls set up, a terrified scream. A scream that cut the air of fun. The screams spread, followed by raging cries. Claps of thunder broke away the crowd. Not thunder. Gunfire.

"What the hell's going on?" Kira snapped. The haze in her blue eye was clearing, pistols in her fists.

Tick had disappeared. Lost in the rush of people pushing against us.

The gunfire rattled, claps of thunder over and over. Bullets tore away at buildings, chunks of tarmac disintegrated. People were ripped apart, children lay in bits on the rainbow colored streets. A hand yanked me behind a short metal wall, the bullets tearing away the concrete I had been standing on.

I was sitting in something wet. My normal hand was red, a thick crimson covered it. I looked around me, I was sitting in a small pool of blood. A family had been caught underneath a collapsed structure, their blood mixing with spilled alcohol underneath me.

"Stray!" Kira snapped, her lips next to my ear. "Get your act together."

The rain of bullets caught a pillar of a small building, children's shrieks hung in the air as the building collapsed.

She slapped me. It stung, I brought my hand up to my cheek, it felt foreign – the feeling of my own skin. It was cold. The hail of bullets stopped, the streets were silent. The occasional groan of help was cut off by a sharp bang of a single bullet.

She grabbed my face, hers filling my eyes. "Focus. Okay? Just focus on me. You have to watch my back, I'll take out whoever did this." She forced one of her pistols into my hands.

She spun round, her legs still crouched, hair tied back. She stuffed something into one of her pockets. It was matted and silver. Her eye patch, why would she be taking it off right now?

I couldn't think straight. Too much blood, too many bodies. How could someone wake up and do this? Lives just snapped away in an instance. My stomach climbed my throat and emptied itself as I threw my head to the side.

"Don't look at my face until I tell you to, understood?" she hissed. "Stray?! You got that?"

"Yeah. Yeah I do." My hands shook, the gun felt heavy. Watch her back, she's the priority. If she lives, finding Mum would be easier. Focus Dan. Lock onto her. Not at the child clutching a teddy bear with a smile still on her face - a large part of her body missing.

Just on Kira. On the roses.

She ducked down behind the metal as the bullets continued. There was no one left in the streets, the gunman was just raising more chaos. Killing the already dead. Ripping apart small bodies, riddling buildings with bullets. Kira swore and sprinted into the street. She ran across it, three sharp bangs from her pistol and she dived behind a thick pillar in front of a bank.

The stream of bullets paused for a while. I peeked over the wall, a man stood in the middle of the street. Kira's bullets had hit her target, blood ran down thick forearms. But he took a heavy step forward, then another. His green eyes raging, mouth painted into a snarl as he lifted the mini gun.

Kira sprung up and more bullets rang from her gun. None of them hit the gunman, but they hit the power cables above the man. They loosened but didn't come down. The gunman bellowed a laugh and replaced the gun's clip. He didn't know her plan, he thought she had missed.

The gun's multiple barrels whirred as they span, bullets leaped out of it the black gun. The pillar perforated by the chunks of silver, concrete dust filled the air. I saw a flash of yellow as Kira darted behind another pillar, it was smaller than the first. The next pillar would collapse under that much force.

"STRAY!" Her voice louder than the rattle of gunfire.

Right. Her back. I was meant to watch it.

I would be hopeless figuring something out by myself. I could hear the Unit tugging at my senses, coaxing me into using it. Coaxing me into losing my memory. But a risk is a risk, helping Kira would be worth it. Hopefully. Probably not. But my gut told me it would.

I let it take over. The smell of blood, the stark brightness of blood. All of it filling my senses. The gunman was about a few hundred meters away, the power cable dangled a few more feet above him. It wouldn't come down by itself, something would have to pull it down. Pull it down. A building. Pull down a building instead. Kira's pillar wouldn't last long, and that would be perfect. I'd have to make the gunman move forward a few more meters, the angle would be perfect for the building to collapse.

I switched it off, my senses dulled, memory hazed. Probably forgot something important, hopefully not. Fingers crossed.

I sprung up from behind the wall and sprinted towards Kira. My foot caught onto something and I smacked the red river hard, my jaw clamping down on my tongue. My heart lurched as the bullets rained above me, adrenaline sweet and sour in my mouth. My head rang as I pushed myself off the road, shoving away a dead eyed woman. The Gray was already warm, panic and anxiety had made it hot.

I scrambled to my feet and dived next to her, pressing my back against the pillar. She had been caught by something, a deep gash ran down her arm, blood soaking her sleeve. She pulled down her hair over her right eye and glared at me.

"What the hell are you doing?" she shouted, gritting her teeth as she tied off the gash.

"I have a plan."

"Oh Christ. Great. Just like the plan you had when you jumped out of a building?!"

"More or less," I yelled. "Shoot towards him, not directly at him."

"What?" she snapped. "Are you serious? I can take him out from here."

"And how's that going?" We hit the floor as the gunfire got closer, the pillar buckled.

She shot me a deadly look. She yanked the gun out of my hand and leaned against the pillar, pulling her hair away from her face. Her sharp bangs drowned out in the constant shudder of the mini gun. The pillar groaned and cracked. Kira continued, her strong arms jerked with every shot.

I switched it on again, just a few more steps, a few more bullets in the pillar. Off again, back to dull reality where my head pounded because of the lack of air. Pounded because I was scared, because I was angry. Angry because so many people had been slaughtered. So many bodies in the streets, the Gray had been painted red. Dust and moon grade gunpowder filled the air, strangling us.

The cracks split and grew, the ceiling above us buckled. It wasn't time yet, but to me it was. I wrapped an arm around Kira's waste and dived into the open street. The gunfire stopped as the gunman paused, the building shuddered and groaned. Metal and cement snapped and crumbled, chunks of glass fell around us – diamonds mixing with the crimson lake around us. The building finally toppled over, an almighty shriek tore through the city as it scraped against other buildings, collapsing on the man.

Dust hung in the air, blurring out the sun. I was lying on something. It was soft. Smelt like roses. Roses. I rolled off of Kira, she groaned and hit me. It was a weak hit, but it was a square hit to my chest.

"You. Absolute. Idiot," she groaned. Blood and dust matted her hair, one side of her face had been pressed against the tarmac. Small shards of glass speckled her cheek.

Her hair had fallen away from her face. Her blue eye flared as she glared at me. But her other eye, her right eye, it wasn't blue. It was black. The entire thing, a yellow ring where a normal iris should be. It was bionic. That's how she had managed to hit the gunman when she ran across the street, that's why she hadn't tripped when she had. She could see her target easily. So she wasn't just bluffing when she said she could take him out from there.

"Your eye …" I muttered.

She slapped me. Hard. This one stung more than the last.

"What did I tell you about looking at me?!" she yelled. In the split second between the slap and the yell she had put on the metal eye patch. She grabbed my t-shirt and pulled me close, her face inches from mine. "Don't you dare tell anyone about what you saw, OK? You didn't see a thing. Got that?"

Her voice wasn't all anger. It was tinged with something else. It wavered slightly, like a sensitive secret had been spilled out. A wild tear split the blood and glass on her cheek, she brushed it away and let go of me.

"Your grand plan was to drop a building on us. Brilliant." She kicked away her pistols, they had been crushed by debris.

"It's one of my talents," I mumbled. I glanced at her, she was clenching and unclenching her fists. She was taking it hard, like the bodies piling the streets around her weren't a big deal, but seeing her eye was. But in a way, I could relate. I guess we were both insecure about our eyes. But it wasn't the time to talk about similarities when we were standing in muddy blood.

Sirens began ringing throughout the city. Watchmen were already filling the streets, many of them gagging and emptying their stomachs at the sight. One of them collapsed at the sight on a tiny hand holding onto a locket.

She began walking away, her hands stuffed into her pockets.

"Shouldn't we tell Hera or something?" I asked.

"I recorded everything. We took that guy out. We've helped enough," she muttered. "Come on, I need a drink Stray. Let's go."