St. Xavier

Note – this is the first book I'm writing with a lore guide. You may choose to read it, or you can dive into the book blind. Either way is fine. But if you ever have any questions about the lore of the Aftermath world—this is the page to return to. So, have at, and enjoy.

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The Basic Lore Guide

Affected – the people of the 22nd century who have a dramatic genetic difference to others. Most affecteds have abilities that are often seen as superhuman. Some societies shun the affected while others are indifferent or aspire to become like them.

AlterCo – the corporation founded in the new apocalyptic world, fashioned from the remnants of the genetic facilities once owned by the government of the old world. The original facilities were the cause for the existence of the affected, and now, AlterCo makes a killing by selling serums, cybernetics, and mutations to their highest bidders. There are only two known AlterCo facilities in post-doomsday America; one of them is in the city of Altervale, and the other is in St. Xavier.

The Insurgence – once a large network of doomsday preppers across the country, the descendants of the Insurgence now run most of the settlements across post-doomsday America. They are the faction of freedom, community, and Americana values.

The Order – government remnants from the old world, who still try to cling onto power even now. They're the most secretive of the three main factions, so it's difficult for anyone to know how many of them exist, or where they all are. They own and operate the city of Altervale, and they often treat their society in a dictatorial fashion.

The Override – the greatest and most ruthless tribe in existence. The Override are a collective of warrior tribals who believe they must 'override' anything and everything from the old world before humanity can truly start anew. They see everything outside of them as sinful debauchery. They were originally founded by an affected named Emmanuel, but modern day, the tribe is run by "The Hounds of the Override," the Fox, the Shepherd, and the Wolf. The Wolf is the most merciless leader among them, the Shepherd is eccentric and charismatic, and the Fox became the first successful defector of the war tribe.

The Insurgence Alliance – a group of Insurgence misfits who came together to accomplish many goals, as they felt as if the Insurgence alone wasn't doing enough to repair the problems their societies faced. They fought in wars against the Override and the Order before many of their members died or faded into memory.

St. Xavier – a city built onto the ruins of a pre-war city in Nevada, now ruled by the Insurgence. It once belonged to the Order, but it was liberated by the Insurgence Alliance, thus transferring ownership of one of the AlterCo facilities, the other still remaining under the control of the Order in Altervale, Colorado.

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𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 1

𝘚𝘵. 𝘟𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘦𝘳

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In the heart of a once glorious city was now a vast apocalyptic ruin—still passing as a city even now.

On the day the stars fell a century ago—a city in Nevada was destroyed, a place where the new-world city of St. Xavier now resided.

Buildings stood in shambles, as they had for decades, all across the darkened outer city. Lights shone from the well-kempt buildings of the inner city, beyond the walls and out of reach of the poor, a single blue tower standing above it all, the tower of the prolific business, AlterCo. But beyond the safety and comfort of the inner city—streets were broken, buildings having never been rebuilt, with only a few rag-tag businesses here and there, catering to the down and the poverty-stricken, a place with the most dangerous sorts of people lurking around every corner—and interestingly enough, it was a place Xavier felt more at home than within the wall.

The girl strode easefully beneath the night sky, passing by the apocalyptic buildings on either side and feeling entirely unfazed. She'd been visiting the outer city all her life, and she had no fear of the place whatsoever. In fact—she worked and practically lived out here.

Named after the city that was liberated by her parents—Xavier Knight was a homebody here, with an average build and sleek red hair, just long enough to reach her neck. She often wore a tight black jacket made of leather, pistol on one side, bag on the other, a long crimson cloak draped over the rest of her, complete with a big red hood.

It was a common sight for the inhabitants of the outer city to see the crimson cloak breeze past in the night, as she often visited the outer city during the later hours, namely because her friends would always be out for a night on the town around such a time.

But right now, however, she had a pit-stop to make before she'd head off to find her friends.

Xavier's blue eyes wandered down the street, fixating on the small concrete building on the nearest corner—a place called Jordy's, where she often obtained her jobs. She sighed and quickened her pace, silently praying that he'd have something for her.

The door pushed open with a faint ching-a-ling, and Xavier stepped inside the cozy little office, greeted by the thin smog of cigarette smoke. Jordy—skinny and slacked back in his chair, a black tattoo etched up his right arm—was watching the old box TV behind his counter, sipping on a Coldfire and gently flicking ashes into the nearby tray.

Jordy scratched his facial hairs, sparing her a glance and straightening up in his seat. He turned down the volume of the old western film he was watching, then stood and leaned on the counter, facing her properly.

"My dad's being an ass," Xavier started irritably, slapping a hand on the counter. "He won't even let me start a freaking charity in the inner city. Like—no offense, I know nobody here wants to think they're a charity case—but come the hell on. It's free. It's literally 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘦. It doesn't cost AlterCo anything—yet my dad still won't let me hold it there. So I need a job. Preferably a big one. Please."

Jordy's beady brown eyes narrowed at her, cracking a smirk. "You ain't gonna get anywhere if you keep tryinna save the world."

"I'm 𝘯𝘰𝘵, you goofy bitch—just my home," Xavier barked, releasing a faint laugh. "My family's the only reason this city's even here—but my dad doesn't give a damn about the outer city at all anymore. Someone's gotta pick up the slack for his selfish ass."

"You could've just tried to find another place to hold a charity, y'know."

"You don't think I tried that? Where do you think I've 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 all day? Nobody in the inner city cares about raising money for the outer city. Every single person I talked to said no."

"Well, that's a shame…"

"You have a job or not?"

"Ahh… yeah, I do," Jordy admitted, making a sideways nod and seeming hesitant. "But you're gonna wanna take some backup with you on this one."

"What? No. What?" Xavier stammered, shooting him an odd look. "Since when do I need—?"

"Since you're getting a job that takes out of St. Xavier," Jordy told her flatly, jabbing a finger at her. "Across the entire damn country."

Xavier slowly took back, somewhat stunned and feeling as if she'd misheard.

"Biggest job I've ever gotten here… and the guy asked for you by name," Jordy informed, hunching down behind the counter and reaching for something. "Seeing as how you're the best person we've got, I can see why… but it ain't something you wanna take on without backup. Not this time. You're gonna end up crossin' paths with damn near every type of person out there."

Then, he stood fully upright again—holding an overstuffed satchel bag and gently placing it on the countertop. The bag was tan and tightly-sealed, and Xavier gave it a once-over before looking to him again.

"You know the rules. No damage, and no peeking," Jordy stated. "This bag needs to get to the Outreach in old New York State—and upon delivery, you will be paid ten-thousand gold pieces."

"T—ten—𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵?" Xavier breathed, utterly astonished.

"Ye'ap… you heard me right," Jordy affirmed. "And you get a hundred up front, ensuring that your travel needs are met. Looks like you finally got that big break you wanted, kiddo… if you're willin' to take this big-ass journey, that is."

Xavier's mouth unraveled into a wide, beaming smile.

After all this time, all these feigned efforts of gathering money to fix the outer city—the grandest of all opportunities had finally presented itself to her.

"Hell yeah, I'll take it—gimme that," Xavier grinned, grabbing the strap of the bag.

"Hold your freakin' horses," Jordy griped, gripping the bag tighter. "I know you're an affected, and your little superpower is a damn godsend in this profession—but you're not immortal, and you still need to take someone with you. You understand?"

Xavier's smile waned, staring vacantly at him. "Did the client demand that?"

"No," Jordy grumped. "But I am."

Xavier flashed another smile at him, pausing for a moment to ponder on this.

Quite honestly, she couldn't think of anyone who might be able to accompany her on such a long and tireless endeavor. Her uncle worked an important job for AlterCo, and both of her friends had family here. They all had reasons to stay in St. Xavier. She'd probably have to go it alone regardless of what Jordy wanted.

But nevertheless, she gave him a reassuring nod, briefly removing her cloak and strapping the satchel bag around herself. The satchel hung down from behind, and she covered it with the cloak again, swiftly hiding it from sight.

"Thank you," Xavier said sincerely. "You're not gonna recognize the outer city when I'm done with it."

"Yeah, yeah… be careful," Jordy replied, swatting the air. "The delivery point is on the slip in the bag's side pocket, and that's where your hundred gold pieces are, too. There's also a map folded up in the other side pocket. Don't lose 'em."

"I won't. Night, Jordy."

"Night, Xav."

Xavier waved him off and sauntered out of his office, marching into the night with a brisk stride—thoroughly inspired and eager to prepare for the long journey ahead.

As she strode on, her eyes ventured upward, gazing at the distant skyline of the inner city in the distance—the great glimmering tower in the center of it all, standing high above everything and everyone else in St. Xavier, just as it always had.

Xavier sighed as she walked, losing herself in the sight of it and suddenly feeling homesick, despite that she hadn't even left yet. The sight of the bright inner city in the distance, visible from nearly every part of the outer city—it'd become such a common sight for her, she'd never even considered what her daily life might be like without it.

Now, however, she'd finally find out.

Because—as glorious and prosperous as this city had become ever since her parents claimed it two decades ago—St. Xavier had a steep and painful problem now, one that, unfortunately, could only be fixed by money.

And—with her father inside that tower, focusing only on the success of his business—the problem would go forever unsolved unless she took it on for him.

But, thankfully, she already had everything on her person that she'd need for a long trip. In preparation for obtaining another courier job, she'd left home today with her loaded pistol, her side bag filled with x-serum and a few extra magazines, and her pocket change of St. Xavier silver coins, and now, she had a bunch of gold coins as well. She was ready to make that trip, and she could waltz out of the city right now if she wanted to.

But—she knew her uncle would be angry if she simply wandered off without saying anything to him, and her friends would feel much the same.

So, she marched on, heading down the vacant main street and turning the corner to the north side of the outer city, wandering down a narrower road and cautiously eyeing the darkened alleyways in passing. She knew all the places her friends would likely be—and at this hour, one of them was likely at the fighting ring, taking bets on the back-alley matches like always.

Xavier turned at the third alley, the widest of them all—and unlike the others, this one had an ambiance of noise echoing from deep inside, numerous voices as well as distant lights.

The open space behind the buildings—where this alleyway led—was where the night fights were regularly held.

Xavier moved closer, seeing that a large crowd of dirty outer-city folks were encircling the area in the middle, where the makeshift fighting ring was. It was like any ordinary boxing ring, only with metal rods and repurposed phone lines used as the ropes and supports surrounding, and two people were fighting and throwing wild punches in the ring, wearing no boxing gloves and drawing blood on one another.

"Haaa—there ya' go, K-Man!" a familiar voice shouted.

Xavier's eyes flickered over to the source of the voice, landing on a guy barely older than her, one with short black hair and a dark green sports jacket, its sleeves rolled up and a single white line down either side. This young man wore a Kevlar vest beneath his jacket and a pair of shiny dog tags around his neck, grinning and pumping his fist at the scene of the fight.

"Niner," Xavier barked, moving closer and slapping him repeatedly on the shoulder. "Niiiner."

"What? Oh," Niner uttered, wheeling around to face her. "Wanna place a bet, X?"

"No, junkie-boy—where's Kaz?" Xavier inquired. "I've gotta tell you both something."

Niner smirked and turned, pointing at the ring.

Xavier stepped forward, staring at the fight and feeling a spark of dread inside.

"Fucking—𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘮𝘪𝘵, Niner!" she yelled—turning and punching him squarely in the arm. "I told you not to let him do these stupid fights anymore!"

"Ahhh—you're just babying him," Niner griped, stroking his arm and wincing. "He's good at it, and it gets him money. Leave him alone."

"He can't feel pain when he's all full of adrenaline like that—you know how it works!" Xavier snapped. "You don't see the 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘮 with that?!"

"No—matter'a fact—I don't," Niner replied curtly, cocking his head. "I see that as an advantage in this profession. 'Cause it is."

"Yeah—except he could break his fingers or something and not even notice," Xavier griped, turning and gazing worriedly into the fight. "Son of a bitch, Niner. I hate you sometimes."

Niner fell silent, he and Xavier both watching as their friend carried on.

In the ring—facing off against a burly man with a beard—was a slender, quick-jabbing opponent, the third member of their misfit trio of friends, Kaz Callaway.

Kaz had sandy hair, darker at the roots than the ends, with a sharp pointed hairline and a style that resembled something of a fohawk, though it was currently in a state of stringy chaos. He had a sleek, narrow visage, faint hairs along his jawline and onto his chin, shiny hazel eyes that were now lit with intense resolve, wearing only his thin sleeveless tank top, his Kevlar vest and dark blue jacket draped over the side of the ring during the fight.

The burly man fired out another punch—and Kaz narrowly dodged it with a swift sideways duck, whipping up and bashing his fist into the bottom of the man's jaw. There was a dull crack—many of the audience members screaming in awe—and a spurt of blood shot from the burly man's mouth, his head jerking back as he stumbled away, gripping his dislocated jaw and hurriedly waving for the fight to cease.

Suddenly, a ravenous applause broke out—and Niner grinned from ear to ear, leaping onto the stage and raising Kaz's hand.

"Aaand we have a winner!" Niner proclaimed. "Having dodged the pain train yet again—𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘶𝘱 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘒𝘢𝘻 𝘊𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺!"

The applause and shouts of joy seemed to grow, and Xavier sighed disdainfully, clapping for her friend and still feeling perturbed by the whole ordeal.

Kaz was exceptionally strong, especially for someone his size—but he was an affected, and his incredible strength and endurance came with a risky drawback that Niner often seemed to overlook.

Kaz was capable of feeling pain like anyone else—but whenever his adrenaline spiked considerably, he'd temporarily become numb to pain, which posed the constant risk of accidental injury during whatever fights he partook in. Originally, Kaz learned all about brawling from Niner, who was a skilled fighter as well—but Niner didn't have this same risk attached to him, and Xavier suspected he simply didn't understand why it was a risk at all.

Kaz let out a breathless little laugh, a spot of blood in the corner of his mouth and a bit more oozing from the side of his head, looking somewhat exhausted. His fight had carried on for nearly fifteen minutes, and he was still catching his breath.

Niner patted him on the back and nudged him onward, and the two of them leaped off the side of the ring. Kaz draped his Kevlar vest over himself before slipping his sleek flannel jacket back on, rolling the sleeves up to his elbows—then pausing for a second, only just spotting Xavier.

"Hey," Kaz smiled, his voice a kind, lightened rasp like always.

"Hey," Xavier replied, trying to return the smile and taking a step toward him. "Y'okay?"

"Yeah, yeah…" Kaz nodded, then paused and glanced down, surveying his bruising knuckles and repeatedly opening and closing his hand. "Well… mostly. Probably. I'unno…"

Xavier let out a faint laugh, though she felt pained at the sight of him, blood spotted along his face, yet still smiling in that simple, charming way, as if he had no idea he'd done anything dangerous at all.

"We'll see," she told him. "Soon as the adrenaline high wears off…"

"Heya, buddy—here's your earnings," Niner beamed, joining Kaz's side and placing five golden coins in his palm. "Five whole gold pieces—best damn fight of the month, right here! Now let's get hammered."

Kaz opened his mouth to reply—but Xavier beat him to it.

"Shut your dumb ugly 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦, Niner. You wanna make some drug money, then you can risk your 𝘰𝘸𝘯 ass in the ring," she growled. "Don't just throw him in there and then spend all his money on—"

"I got firefly 𝘰𝘯 me, X," Niner cut her off, shooting her a snide look and patting his jacket pocket. "I don't need no money for that. I meant booze—and I meant 𝘢𝘭𝘭 of us. Let's—just—go—get—hammered!"

"Well I—I can't," Xavier said, losing steam and sighing. "I can't just go get wasted right now."

"Why not?" Niner asked, he and Kaz both giving her the same quizzical look.

Xavier stared at them, hesitating for a moment. She planned to leave and begin the long journey to the east coast tonight—but looking at the two of them now, she suddenly found it difficult to bring up.

"I… just… nothing," Xavier mumbled, shaking her head. "Nothing, we can go hang out… just for a little bit, though. I have something else to do tonight…"

"Off to the waterin' hole," Niner smirked, draping his arms around Xavier and Kaz.

The three of them trekked down the alleyway, leaving the dispersing crowd of outer-city folk behind. They headed down the narrow road and emerged on the larger one, stopping by the Hole in the Wall, which was a small bar fashioned out of a halfway-collapsed building, a place the three of them frequented often.

When they emerged from the dilapidated building, the three of them were passing a brand new jar of apple moonshine around, each of them taking a sip as they wandered down the sidewalk. Eventually, they came to a stop beside another dark and abandoned building, sitting on the edge of the sidewalk with their backs pressed to the old brick wall.

They chatted and laughed for a while, trading the jar back and forth and snarking at one another like always. But eventually, Xavier—sitting in between the two of them—slowly drifted out of the conversation, falling silent and gazing across the desolate state of the outer city.

Her mind began to wander, and she felt a touch of homesickness again, truly excited by the journey ahead—but also somewhat saddened by it.

Moments later, she blinked and glimpsed between Kaz and Niner, just after briefly hearing her uncle mentioned in their conversation.

"He did not," Kaz laughed. "Vinny wouldn't just barge up in my dad's place."

"He did too," Niner quipped in response, taking another swig. "Dude in the lobby owed AlterCo some money. Whaddid you think Vinny was gonna do?"

Xavier glanced between them again, giving each of them a questioning look.

Vincent Knight, who was Xavier's uncle—and Troy Callaway, Kaz's father—often didn't get along whenever they crossed paths with one another. Both men were affected, and both of them had a temper, though they were fairly different in nearly every other aspect, and they sometimes ended up in confrontations with each other.

Troy was something of a leader to the people of the outer city, after all—and Vincent, on the other hand, was a debt collector and repo man for the largest company in the inner city, often targeting many of the people in the outer city who hadn't paid their dues. It only made sense for them to cross paths in unpleasant situations every now and then—and now, it seemed the boys were trading the latest tale of one of their square-offs.

"What happened, now?" Xavier inquired. "What did Uncle do?"

"Hoooh 𝘮𝘢𝘯, X—you shoulda been there," Niner cackled, grinning and shaking his head. "Vinny walked into Troy's apartment complex like he owned the place, and he slammed his power fist down on the front counter, almost made the guy piss himself right there."

"I reckon he didn't get what he came to collect," Kaz muttered with a shrug, propping his arm on his leg. "Dad ain't gonna take that kinda behavior… not in the complex…"

Xavier spared him a look, resisting the urge to flash a smile. She loved to hear Kaz's soft southern accent.

"Nooo—I thought they were finally gonna do more than argue," Niner snickered. "Troy looked like he was gonna pop a blood vessel. And Vinny—well, he always looks like that—but still. They were both pissed."

"Troy's the only guy alive who could take a blow from Uncle's power fist and not even blink," Xavier giggled, taking the moonshine from Niner. "He's freaking inhuman, and it's awesome."

"Well… that's where our K-Man got it from," Niner bragged. "His whole damn bloodline is friggin' superhuman. I bet he could take Vinny if they ever actually had a fight."

"Whoa—hold the 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬 up," Xavier barked, making Kaz choke out a laugh. "You have 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 seen my uncle in an actual fight. You wanna talk about superhuman—he's beyond that. He's a freaking 𝘥𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯."

"Troy was in the 𝘈𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦, X."

"So was my uncle!"

"Yeah, 𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺."

"𝘍𝘶𝘤𝘬 you—!"

"Kaz!" Niner shouted over her, leaning past her and waving to get Kaz's attention. "You think your dad could take Vincent in a fight?"

"Jesus God almighty," Kaz sighed, running a hand down his face. "I don't ever wanna know…"

Just when he lowered his hand, he took in a sharp breath, wincing and examining his knuckles.

Xavier frowned, surveying him closely.

Kaz caught her worried stare, shaking his head and dismissively swatting the air. "It just hurts now… nothin' bad…"

Xavier continued to stare at him, not entirely convinced. When Kaz moved to reach for his cigarettes, she slid her hand into her side bag, pulling out one of the tiny injectors and jabbing it into his arm.

"Agh…" Kaz winced again, glaring down at his arm, then at her. "What was that…?"

"X-serum," Xavier replied, tossing the empty injector aside.

Kaz stared at her, his mouth drifting agape. "Y'didn't have to do that…"

"Yeah, well… I don't care," Xavier replied with a coy half-smile. "Dad only sells x-serum to rich people most of the time, and even then, he's gouging them. I'd rather use it on people out here who actually need it."

"Hear-hear," Niner beamed, taking the mason jar and raising it. "Magical healing serum—made from our own Miss Miracle-Grow. Get yours while supply lasts!"

"Shut your fat mouth," Xavier chided with a laugh, snatching the jar back. "And don't call me that. I 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦 that."

"How much of that d'you have?" Kaz wondered.

"Oooh—yeah, we could sell it!" Niner realized, turning to Xavier in excitement. "Whatcha got? How much more?"

"No—I need it," Xavier insisted, placing a protective hand over her little side bag.

"For what?" Niner complained. "You heal at light-speed—and that serum is 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 from you. Whaddo you need it for?!"

"I just need it," Xavier stated, giving him a firm look. "I might need to use it on someone."

"Since when?" Niner pestered. "You never have to walk around healing everybody out here. What—are you going somewhere?"

Xavier suddenly lost her words, gaping at him for a second, then turning away.

Kaz and Niner both stared at her, narrowing their eyes with questioning expectance.

"I got another job," she mumbled. "And I'm gonna get big money for this one… so I don't need to go around selling everything I have."

"Yeah?" Niner asked interestingly. "How much money we talkin' here?"

"Where's the job at?" Kaz wondered. "How far…?"

Xavier turned to face him, gazing into his sweet, disarming stare and feeling a pained tug in her heartstrings. She knew for certain he would try to dissuade her from going all the way to the east coast.

"I don't know how far yet," Xavier lied. "But it's big money… so… that's all I care about."

"How muuuch?" Niner whined.

"Shut 𝘶𝘱, Niner," Xavier and Kaz replied in unison.

"Well—how long's it gonna take?" Niner inquired. "How long are you gonna be gone?"

"I don't 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 yet, shit-bird," Xavier grumped. "But trust me. It's gonna be worth it to all of us when I'm done."

A small, heavy silence fell over the three of them.

Xavier stared directly forward, almost trancelike, entirely lost to her thoughts.

"I'm gonna fix that broken building on the southwest side of town," she murmured, cracking a slight smile as she dwelled on the dreamful ideas. "It has two floors, and there's grass behind it… like a yard. We can make it into a big house… and we can have crops, and livestock… and… we can fix places for other people, too."

Niner fell silent, his expression now more intense—and on her other side, Kaz did much the same, leaning slightly forward and gazing into her profoundly.

"There's a garage right beside that place… so you guys could finally open your repair shop," Xavier continued, her small smile beginning to grow. "And I could give Troy enough money to open a shelter for all the people he's always trying to take care of… and I could just pay my uncle's way, so he won't have to be AlterCo's repo man anymore…"

"Oh… keep dreamin' on that," Niner said, flashing a smirk. "I think your uncle loves his job."

"No… he loves having an outlet for rage," Xavier replied with a laugh. "But he could do that if he went out hunting, too…"

She turned her head, meeting Kaz's sparkly hazel gaze and sharing a deep stare with him.

Then, Xavier placed the jar down, straightened up, and reached her feet.

"I gotta go," she told them with a sad half-smile. "I'll get back as soon as I can."

Before either of them could reply—she marched off without another word.

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"Aaah—please—nooo!"

The skinny man sprinted down the open outer city street, flying around a corner and vanishing down a dark alley in a panic.

AlterCo's repo man strode after him with a calm, brisk stride, adjusting his hat as he marched on. He wore a dark suit with an open jacket, complete with a white button-up and a loose waving tie, his right arm glowing with an ominous white-and-blue glow.

Vincent sighed, opening and closing his hand within the power fist as he turned the corner, strolling into the alleyway.

The power fist was colored many deep ceruleans, a bright displacer disc on the center of his knuckles, where energy would burst out at the strike of a punch. He clasped his gloved fist tightly shut, his sharp blue eyes landing on his target straight ahead.

The skinny man had rushed to a dead end, pressed up against a chain-linked fence and scrambling to try climbing it, but his dirty boots wouldn't fit in the holes. The man began to hyperventilate just when Vincent drew near.

"Please!" the man pleaded, falling to his knees. "Jesus Christ—I'll get the money! I'll get the freaking money!"

"Famous last words," Vincent said in a soft, calm utterance, his voice a smooth, almost eerie sort of one. "I intend to take what is owed—and if you don't have the money now, then what is owed is retribution."

"Fuck… no… no…!" the man sputtered, shaking his head as his face shone dimly from his tearstained cheeks. "Please, just… just gimme another week! I'll have it next week!"

"Oh, how typical…" Vincent sighed, his pensive eyes narrowing down at the groveling man. "You know, I believe we were at these crossroads before. What is this week but last week's next week?"

"Just one more!" the man begged. "Please…!"

"And here we are. Same happenstance. Same groveling request. All happening all over again… and I suspect you won't have it next week, either," Vincent grumbled, slowly raising his power fist. "No more games. No more lies. Stand. Now."

"No…!" the man shrieked, his voice cracking terribly.

Vincent cocked his head, perching his brow and enclosing his fist. "Fine."

He reared back, preparing to strike, and he swung—

"Fuckin'—𝘑𝘦𝘴𝘶𝘴 𝘊𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘵!" a deep and growling voice interrupted—two hands clasping firmly onto the power fist.

Vincent's attack was halted mid-swing—and a third man stood among them now, his meaty hands coiled around the power fist and shoving it back.

The third man was none other than Troy Callaway—stocky, strong, and unkempt, much to the repo man's contrast.

The two merely glared at one another, and as they did, their differences couldn't be more apparent—Vincent, slender and toned with a clean black suit, and Troy, bulky and dirty, with dark brown cargo pants and an old t-shirt that had once been white, his eyes big and wild while Vincent's were sharply pensive, his hair sandy and blasted back while Vincent's was short, black, and cut neatly underneath his dark trilby hat.

The both of them were probably the greatest visual representations of their two separate sectors of the city—one clean-cut and the other earthy and raw, staring heatedly into one another for several tense seconds that seemed to stretch on forever.

Troy inhaled several big breaths through gritted teeth, not even bothering to check his hands, despite that the power fist had briefly zapped them. He tilted his head and let out a low rumbling noise, jabbing a finger down at the crying man and shaking his head.

"You… do not… need to 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭 these motherfuckers," Troy snarled in his deep, scratchy voice.

"I didn't intend to," Vincent replied calmly.

"Ah yeah?" Troy perked his brow, rounding on him. "Then what the 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬 was that? I know what your little fisting toy can do, Vinny—and you don't go 'round swingin' it at people unless you want them people to not 𝘣𝘦 anymore."

"You seem to be laboring under the delusion that I can't control what I do," Vincent said. "You know—if I strike a person's leg, then it only hits the leg. Shocking, I know."

"Don't—give me—your 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘴 𝘣𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘵," Troy growled through clenched teeth, looming even closer. "Just because your fister can harness all your voodoo energy bullshit doesn't mean it makes it any less strong. You could damn well kill these fuckers by accident—and you don't give a good goddamn about that, do you?"

"Not particularly. No," Vincent mumbled, glancing over at the crying man, then back. "Though I find it quite amusing that you're here playing hero in a manner so boastful. Namely because this man is a tenant in your apartment complex."

Troy shot him a look. "The fuck does that matter?"

"Well…" Vincent made a mild sideways nod. "I can't imagine you'd play hero so loudly for someone who wasn't supplying you with a steady stream of money on a regular basis. You just didn't want me to kill one of your customers. I think that's what it boils down to."

"Yeah. That's part of it—yeah," Troy agreed unabashedly, nodding and tossing up his hands. "But you need to stop runnin' fuckin' amok out here and attacking half the goddamn people you see. People come to me for solutions out here, Vinny—and 𝘺𝘰𝘶 only ever come out here to cause problems. Do I need to 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘯 to you how that's a 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯' 𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘶𝘦?!"

"No… I know you're the king of the underclass," Vincent replied with a strange little half-smile. "I'm sure caring about these people is quite the burden. But, see… it's 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 burden. 𝘕𝘰𝘵 mine."

Troy reeled slightly back, narrowing his eyes at the repo man. "Your niece don't seem to think that way. She's a hell of an improvement on you."

"I'm aware," Vincent said vacantly. "And I don't care. My job is simply my job—and if you don't want me coming out here to enact it, then your little friends might do well to avoid stealing from us. That's all I come out here to rectify."

"You're a glorified goddamn loan shark," Troy barked. "Your fuckin' brother has all the money in the goddamn world—and he sends you out here to scrounge for even more. Plain and motherfuckin' simple."

"Oh… that's fair," Vincent told him with a smooth nonchalance. "Perfectly fair and true. But, if your little friends can't afford to make their payments… then they shouldn't be creating payment plans for AlterCo products that they can't afford. Plain… and… simple."

The two share another intense glare with one another.

Then, Troy sighed, cocking his head and thrusting his finger at the sniveling man. "What's he owe…?"

"Two gold pieces a month," Vincent stated. "Which he has paid 𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘦 of thus far."

Troy glanced between Vincent and the kneeling man a few more times, then let out a loud groan and dug around in his pocket. Seconds later, he pulled out a bit of loose change.

"Here." Troy slapped two gold pieces into Vincent's palm. "Now we can aaall be friends again."

"Oh my God… thank you!" the man gasped, lumbering to his feet and showering Troy with praise. "Thank you so much, Troy… thank you so much! Oh my God… oh my God… thank God I don't owe him…"

"Yea, well—now you owe me," Troy snarled, jerking the man around by the shirt and practically throwing him down the alley. "Go the fuck on, now—go on somewhere!"

The man rushed to flee the alley, quickly vanishing from sight.

Vincent and Troy locked eyes again.

"Y'know what?" Troy hissed, jutting a finger at him. "Before you go 'round talkin' shit about the underclass—you really oughta remember where 𝘺𝘰𝘶 came from."

At that, Troy lowered his hand and marched away, storming out of the alley and disappearing from the scene.

Vincent watched him go, his slender visage still harboring no expression. He showed no reaction, merely pocketing the coins and walking easefully out of the alleyway where the other two had wandered off moments ago.

Then, the moment he emerged on the open street—he turned and spotted his niece.

Xavier had only just arrived from the east side of town, slowing to a stop when she saw her uncle venturing out of the darkened alley. She then paused, hooking her thumbs onto her belt and giving him an odd look.

"What're you doing?" she asked. "I've never seen you out working this late before."

Vincent hesitated for a moment, glancing down the opposite way where the other two had disappeared, then facing his niece again. He let out a sigh, briefly adjusting his loose black tie as he approached her.

"It's a bit late for you, too," Vincent remarked, eyeing her quizzically. "Particularly if you're off to see your little boyfriends."

"Oh my God, Uncle… I'm in my twenties now," Xavier sighed with a laugh. "I can go see boys late at night if I want to."

Vincent stopped right in front of her, his glare suddenly penetrating.

"Not… that I am," Xavier added. "I'm just… going… somewhere."

"Mhm." Vincent read her intently. "Pray tell."

Xavier stared, feeling hesitant as her mind began to race. She did intend to tell her uncle about her plans, and she couldn't just leave to cross the country without informing him of anything—but she hadn't quite worked out how she would tell him, and she knew he wouldn't be happy with her plans no matter how she might explain them.

"I… um… okay," Xavier started, raising her hands and gesturing as she spoke. "Okay… here's the deal. I just got this really big job from Jordy, and it's gonna pay me enough to kick-start everything I wanted to do for the outer city, including for me and Kaz and Niner. It's something I really have to do… so…"

"So," Vincent mumbled. "Where is the job?"

Xavier made a wincing sort of face, exhaling through her teeth and biting her lip. "Ahhh… it's… kinda… far."

"How far?" Vincent inquired, taking a step closer.

Xavier gulped, releasing a breath and forcing the words out. "The… east coast."

Vincent's eyes narrowed into slits, his expression hardening, somehow even more unreadable than before.

"No," he said simply.

Xavier shook her head. "Don't start—"

"Don't argue with me," Vincent cut her off. "There are two major factions that you can't afford to cross paths with—and trust me, there are a 𝘭𝘰𝘵 of them between here and the east coast. The Order would lock you away just to poke and prod at you, and I guarantee you—the Override would do 𝘧𝘢𝘳 worse."

"You don't think I know that?" Xavier griped. "Mom fought all the same people, and her and Dad won in the end. So did Troy. Hell—so did you."

"That was an 𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘺, Xavier," Vincent reminded her. "The Alliance was a militia. You—just you, on your own, traveling across the country by yourself—are 𝘯𝘰𝘵 one."

"No… but I'm not going around looking for wars like the Alliance did, either," Xavier countered. "I'm just getting from point A to B."

"You…" Vincent sighed deeply, shaking his head once and seeming to grow frustrated. "You can't do something like that by yourself. And I'm not saying that because I doubt you at all—I'm saying that because it's a basic fact of the wasteland. Very few people in the world can do anything on their own anymore. Not without being killed."

Xavier hesitated, thinking of no response and momentarily losing the will to argue.

Vincent examined her, releasing a cloud of breath.

"I don't suppose you asked your little friends," he uttered.

Xavier shook her head. "I can't…"

"Why?" Vincent asked.

"Because, they… they have people here, and they have… ties here," Xavier tried to explain. "I don't know… I can't ask them to do that. It's not fair to them. Besides, it's my problem…"

"How is it 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 problem?"

"Because… my dad runs everything here," Xavier told him straightly. "And he never does anything to fix everything that's wrong. Nobody's trying to do anything… and that's just… not okay. Somebody has to pick up the slack… and, since my dad doesn't care… that falls onto me."

"Oh… you really need to stop thinking that way," Vincent muttered. "Your father's problems aren't an inheritance to you."

"Yeah—but my dad's problems are 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺'𝘴 problems," Xavier argued, spreading her arms and motioning to the apocalyptic city ruins all around her. "Which means somebody has to fix them, whether he wants to or not."

The two of them paused, sharing another deep, tense stare.

Vincent said nothing for several seconds, his eyes seeming to wander past her, gazing over her shoulder at the bright inner city in the distance. He stared at the glistening blue AlterCo tower, and then, he met her eyes again, looking considerably calmer than before.

"Well, since you're not leaving me any sort of 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 in the matter… then… fine," Vincent resolved, taking another step toward her and raising his brows. "When do we go?"

Xavier blinked. "We…?"

"Yes. We," Vincent affirmed.

"What… you just wanna uproot and come with me?"

"Yes."

"Just like that?"

"Yes."

"What about work…?"

"Your father can do without a repo man for now. This is more important."

Xavier beamed, a brilliant smile crawling across her face as she felt a sudden burst of excitement. She jumped in place and pulled her uncle into a quick hug, squealing and clasping her hands together.

"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God—family road trip!" she giggled breathlessly. "Oooh, maaan, this is gonna be fun!"

"Yes… okay," Vincent sighed, adjusting his hat. "When do we go?"

"I was gonna go right after I told you," Xavier shrugged. "So… right now."

"You have everything you need?"

"Yeah… Jordy gave me a map to the place, and the job came with traveling money. I got some water, snacks, and x-serum, just in case. I'm all set."

"Ammunition?"

"Yeah."

"Extra magazines?"

"Always."

"Gun-cleaning kit?"

"𝘠𝘦𝘴, Uncle," Xavier laughed, slapping his arm and strolling past him. "I got this. C'mon."

Vincent let out yet another sigh before he followed suit.