Young Writers Society

City of Memories

Welcome to the capital of Antarctica. May we check your memory status?

Year 2473 - the ice caps have melted and most of the old western countries have been reclaimed by the oceans. The power has shifted to the Antarctic, Africa and Asia, the new developed giants. Antarctica is the centre of new technologies. The super-rich live in the spiralling skyscrapers that dominate the skyline of Nikara. The poor live in singular rooms. And everyone pays their debts with memories.

Memory extractions started as a way to treat soldiers suffering from PTSD, though some say the Antarctic Secret Services (ASS) used it on their employees log before it was used medically. Over the years it filtered through to the public, used mainly by debt hunters who sell the memories on to collectors. Memory memory implants were developed, and people made new lives for themselves, becoming someone else, literally. The Collector runs the show in Nikara, collecting significant memories to stay at the top. Extractions and implants are normally done in clinics, but gangs will do illegal procedures - for the right price, of course.

What am I doing here?
Well, that's up to you. You applied to live in Nikara, even if you don't remember, or you've been living here for a while, maybe your whole life. All we ask is that you contribute to the city's wealth, in any way possible.

So, welcome to Nikara. Do try to keep your mind.

Places:
- Alyx Oali - @Auxiira
- Asami Sato - @Omni
- Melee Cole - @Lumi
- Jason Nakada - @Teddybear22
- Aukai Frey - @Craz
- Kas Malson - @Flite
- @Ecirahs


Profile

Code: Select all

[b]Name:[/b]
[b]Age:[/b] (18+ please. If you can plead your case and show me how someone younger could be useful, I'll think about it)
[b]Gender:[/b] (male, female, other, android, etc.)
[b]Occupation:[/b] (what's their job? If they're a collector, then say what memories they specialize in)
[b]Memory Status:[/b] (how complete is their memory? Have they had a full wipe at any point? Any implants?)
[b]Upper of Nether:[/b]

[b]Appearance:[/b](description please, and non-compulsory photo)

[b]Personality:[/b] (fairly detailed please)

[b]History:[/b] (if they've had a wipe, please put everything before that in italics. If they've had a full implant, briefly put why, and then the history they think they've had)

[b]Other:[/b] (anything else you can think of)


Alyx Oali | The Nether - near the Chasm

Alyx lounged back on the sofa, the movement controlled stillness. The others in the room looked at her nervously, took in her scowl and her lack of tick and made sure to move carefully. She sighed, running a hand through her hair, the colours switching and rippling at her touch. Suddenly she stood up, tapping the side of her leg.

"C'mon, Nike." Her dusky-skinned friend stepped away from the pool table and followed her outside, into the noise and lights of the city.

"You know we had to do it, Al." He said softly as she walked them away from the room they used as a base.

"I don't want to talk about it." She snapped, her hand fisting slightly at her side. A kid almost knocked her over as he landed his hoverboard and she swore at him, gesticulating before turning back to Nike. "We are not going to talk about the wipe we did, we are going to get drunk, and then maybe arrested, cause that sounds like fun and we haven't done it for a while."

He sighed. "You're going to get ripped apart by the bosses."

"Does it look like I care, Nike?" She stopped to stare at him before a set of stairs leading down to a brightly lit door. "Does it look like a care?" Not waiting for his answer, she traipsed down the stairs and pushed open the door. By the time he had caught up with her, she had already perched herself at the bar and ordered shots for both of them.

"I just think that it's a bad idea, that's all." Her friend's electric blue contacts pulled her in.

"Fine. Well, I think it's a brilliant one." She swivelled the chair around to sweep the bar with a scowl. She began pointing at people, choosing them, taking a shot for each one. "That one, that one, and maybe that one." She lingered on a guy with grey eyes and covered with scars and heard Nike sigh as he cracked his knuckles. Even if he thought it a bad idea, he would still fight with her. Her scowl deepened but Nike could tell she was pleased. The idea of getting into trouble always seemed to appeal to her.

As she started to slide off of her stool, flicking her wrists a little, the ceiling panels lit up red.
"Curfew. Curfew. You have 30 minutes to regain your residences or you will be arrested. I repeat, you have 30 minutes to regain your residences or you will be arrested." The sterile voice blared throughout the Neath, causing Alyx to frown. In the bar, people finished off their drinks and started to head out, grumbling as they went. The curfew was never appreciated.

With a huff, she waved her hand over the till, paying for both of their drinks before getting up and leaving the bar.

"Hey Nike, maybe we should go to a race. Yeah, let's do that. We host them afterall." She tapped on her hip rapidly as they meandered through the streets. The races started well after curfew, but the crowd gathered early, and there was always someone for them to talk to.

They loitered around the chasm, darting into suddenly open doors every time the police walked by in theirs exoskeletons. This part of the chasm was their turf, and anyone with a shred of decency opened the doors to people outside after curfew. You never knew when they might come knocking again.

As as more people started to appear around the chasm, Alyx leant against the barrier. Peering over, she spotted the scarred man from the bar and frowned. Though people in the Neath lived in a small area around their homes, seeing same man in one night was rare unless you were aiming for it.

With an ostentatious flick as they swerved to a stop, the racers started to arrive. Tapping her feet on the ground, she turned away from the barrier and started to elbow through the crowd, glaring at those who passed a comment. Her face was well know enough for them to clam up straight away. She picked out Oren from the crowd and made a beeline for him, passing a hand through her hair and turning it dark turquoise.

She waved as she approached. "Hey, Oren." Noting his attention to the line-up, she looked across as well. "Got someone out there?" He nodded once and she lifted an eyebrow. "Nice to know you're as welcoming as usual. You should visit more often, I'm sure the boss would give you good money."

His expression didn't change, instead continuing to focus on the numbers that flashed across his pupil. "If they want me, then I will come. I have no need to spend any more time with memory gangs than I already do."

"Such harsh words. You almost make me feel criminal." She smirked at him before turning her attention to the crowd. A well dressed body made her frown. "There's an Upper. What the heck does he think he's doing?" Her tapping slowed down as she watched the brown haired man. "Bah."

Oren's eyes darted to the man's back and narrowed in that peculiar way of his. He mumbled something, then swiped at the keyboard on his wrist. His fingers typed quickly.

"I think..."

"Welcome, you pathetic shiteating Nethers! Place your bets while you still can. The booths are closing in five minutes!" A booming, aged voice yelled, and the crowd shifted towards the betting tables in response.

Alyx turned to Nike. "Go place a bet on the one with black stripes in his hair." He smiled and turned to the booths. Drinking might be her vice, but gambling was his. She turned back to then crowd and found the Upper again, this time noticing the girl on his arm.

"Your kid better be good, Oren. The percentage I get for hosting this on my turf doesn't pay enough for me to lose big. The boss takes a lot." She lent her back against the barrier, tipping her head into the chasm until the world was upside down.

"What were you saying 'bout the Upper?"

His fingers stilled over his keyboard, and his eyes flicked to her for the first time. His lips tightened, and then he turned away, dismissing her like a child. "Nothing. Nothing at all. At least none of your concern."

You're not so opaque as you think you are, she thought.

"Yeah, right. My turf, remember? If something is going on and I don't know about it, I get ripped into. There's a reason why I'm missing more than 18 years, Oren, and I'd quite like to keep the recent past with me." Her voice finished on a low growl as she straightened up and tapped on the barrier.

Nike came back with a grin on his face which quickly disappeared when he took in her glare.

"What's-"

"Shut it, Nike." She snapped, turning her eyes on him before looking back at Oren. "Who's the Upper?"

A look of annoyance turned his lip up and furrowed his brow: it was well known that Oren hated working under the gangs. "As I said, it is none of your concern. It won't affect your little memory gang. But, if you really wish to know, I am positive that is Melee Cole, a Councilman, coming down for a little amusement from us Nether trash."

"Rutting marvellous," she sighed. "So we're a tourist attraction now." She slouched against the bar again.

"Right, you miserable sons of bitches, betting is closed! make your way to the edge of the chasm, and enjoy the race!" She turned around, a slight smile on her face as the boards started to rev , filling the Nether with an echoing noise.

"5...4...3...2...1...Go!"

Melee Cole // The Nether

"Sugartongue, you still haven't told me," his date whined, "why we're down here."

Melee blinked straight ahead and watched the boarders circle their third lap of the chasm.

She nudged up against his arm and tucked her tummy up against the back of his hand. It was her way of drawing him in indefinitely. "Please tell me."

"Oh, Lana. I just wanted to show you some grunge culture." He turned his head and pecked her lips, lingering for--as his science of kissing had proven effective--one and one-half seconds. Long enough for her to be drawn in by the mint on his breath; short enough not to risk a kiss in return. "Besides, I'm doing a bit of work."

She pouted and ran her fingers in between his. "Tonight was supposed to be our special night, sweetheart. Just me...and you..." She pinched him inside his back pocket, earning a jostle and a cough. She did not need another kiss.

"We'll leave in a moment. I just need a few more pictures." He glanced at the neon-haired girl and blinked.

Photo saved.

A boarder crashed into another boarder; both fell into the pit.

Photo saved.

"Miss Sato will eat these bits up. That woman would move her whole company here if we could find an orphan to photograph." He took Lana by the hand and kissed her again. "Now. My place? A bit of wine, a bit of firelight." He winked. "If the world doesn't end, maybe a bit of skin."

She held tight to him and clung to his arm as they left the chasm-side, garnering a long stare from the neon girl. Melee caught her glare in the corner of his eye and smiled, waved, and vanished between two buildings. Before stepping into the black Mercedes veiled by a cloaking agent, he tapped on his earpiece and channeled in the police station. "This is Councilman Melee Cole. Yes, I'd like to report a gang race. Chasm quadrant three. The perp responsible seems to be a neon-haired woman. Potential ring leader. No. No, I won't be here to release a statement. Keep your boys safe, Chief."

The line died and he opened the door for Lana and smiled politely. "Mind if we watch a live report while drinking that wine?"

Jax looked down at his cup, the amber liquid glowing. Tonight was his one night off this week. His right shoulder was still sore from his match the night before. His knuckles still raw from the blows that connected with his opponent's flesh. He clenched his fist, causing the tender skin to pull against the newly formed scabs.

He glanced up at the door when he heard it open. A girl with multicolored hair walked in, followed closely by a male. So, the memory gang is here.Jax lifted his glass and knocked back the rest of his drink, wincing at the burn it caused going down.

He motioned with his hand, signaling the waitress for another. Before she had made it back the ceiling turned red and he heard the familiar chant. "Curfew. Curfew. You have 30 minutes to regain your residences or you will be arrested. I repeat, you have 30 minutes to regain your residences or you will be arrested."

The waitress turned up soon after with his drink. Her eyes bright and her smile suggestive as she set the cup in front of him. He winked at her and downed his drink in one gulp. Standing up, he made his way out. The barkeep knew him well, and knew to charge his drinks to his boss' tab.

Once outside, Jax stopped and surveyed the street. Men, women, and children all were making their way home. Weaving though those that were heading to the race. It appeared his services were not required this night, there were no lone children visible. He decided to join the crowd at the race.

When he arrived, it was already packed. He made his way to the barrier, pushing past easily. He gazed out, onto the racers. Seeing a familiar face, he smiled. Aukai Frey...would the odds be in his favor tonight?

There was a voice calling for finals bets. Jax enjoyed watching the races, but he did not like to gamble with the little he earned. The children needed it much more than he did.

Thinking of the children gave him mixed emotions. He was both sad and glad that he was helping them. I can only help so much. He tried to feed them well, but he knew that wasn't enough. They needed parents, which was more than he could ever be.

All of a sudden the voice called out that the betting booths were closed. The count down commenced, "5...4...3...2...1...Go!"

The racers surged forward, the race was on. Jax gazed at the crowd around him, people screaming and waving their fists in the air, calling out to the riders. Two riders collided and fell from their boards.

Aukai was still in it though. He was in second, just barely a length behind the leader. He steadily gained on him, he was almost beside him when the sound of sirens filled the air.

|Aukai Frey|

Aukai stood alone and completely submerged within the crowd of noise, the crowd of flavors, the crowd of wide mouths and shocking colors. People jostled, people flinched within their shells of misery. People moved as if programmed to and then branched off into an unsystematic jumble. People mumbled, people shouted and laughed jeeringly, people coughed and people fiddled anxiously with their belongings.

But he, he smelled.

A black hoodie had been pulled hastily over his fermented clothing. The sleeves awkwardly covered his work gloves, thick sweaty gauntlets of some archaic fabric that has yet to find a better cousin. His pants rubbed against his skin in the most uncomfortable way in the most uncomfortable places. He panted softly under the dreadful constriction of heat, but suffered quietly in his own bubble of smell.

He was waiting for the shuttle. A chunky, chugging slog of black and greasy walls. A single yellow light peered onto the track it heaved itself forward on every day. It was so ridiculously out of place for its decrepitude and so ridiculously in place for the same reason that if it were to finally be replaced or changed in any way the part of the Neath it traveled in wouldn't look the same.

He heard its old gears before it arrived. Its pointed nose sniffed haughtily at those who entered its guts but its exhaust sighed in enervation. Aukai had already paid for his entrance, and he allowed the scanner at its door to verify the invisible mark on his arm. He stepped on, chose a dank corner to tuck away his smell, and watched his worn and familiar city whirl away through the window.

What replaced it was not familiar. Or, not as familiar. The impression of a human zooming casually on a board, beautiful women shopping, flashing signs declaring their much more expensive commodities, the lack of trash on the streets. He at least reasonably knew why the last one as it was and felt comforted by it - most of the trash was secretly shoveled to the lower levels. He knew this because it was in his job description.

The shuttle made a few stops before it could not offend any more eyes and had to descend back into the lower, grimier parts. This is where Aukai got off.

He moved quickly, an itch in his armpit demanding his attention which to him could not be scratched until he arrived at his destination. Even though the higher levels in the Neath were still inadequate from what people have told him, he still remarked at it with a bit of awe. People moved freely up here. Or, as free as a Nether could. From what people have told him.

To him, with his armpit that was in need of dire scratching, the travel took far too long. Finally, he slipped into the tall spire that looked the most familiar to him. He then rode the familiar elevator, walked down the familiar hallway, and buzzed at the even more familiar door. He heard the click of the small camera that peered down at him in cold scrutiny in the corner. The door slid open.

Aukai heaved the loudest sigh he could muster, walking past Oren and immediately ripping off his hoodie. He proceeded to claw furiously at he armpit, not bothering to adjust his bunched white shirt underneath. He was positively disheveled. When his scratch had been satisfied, he sighed much more positively. He turned around to look upon the sharp-angled figure that is Oren.

"Hi." He said.

"You're disgusting." He replied.

"Yes."

"You're smelling up my apartment."

"Yes. I need a shower."

"I refuse to pay for you to take a shower. Go clean yourself at a public one."

Aukai sighed again. "Please."

"No."

"You can take it out of my cut. And I won't use your fancy soaps this time."

"They aren't 'fancy'. It is normal, everyday, soap."

"Please."

It was Oren's time to sigh, except his managed to sound more severe and less like a child. He was about to say something else when his face suddenly froze, and as if someone had pulled the wrong thread out of his face, his features retained the most precise description of repugnance Aukai had ever seen on him. An elegant hand gripped at his mouth and nose, and Oren waved him away with the other.

"Just go."

Aukai smiled, a blonde head full of teeth, and plucked up the bag he had thrown to the floor when he had taken off his hoodie. He stepped over to the only bare part of the four walls in Oren's apartment and quickly tapped a set system on the wall. There was a click, a revolving noise, and a secret panel slid open.

He stepped inside. It was unbearably cramped for his boyishly large body, and clandestine water began to pour on his head. Well, it wasn't water, but cleansing water. Aukai didn't know what it actually was, only that it had a faint odor of musk and that the people in the Upper swore to its credibility.

The shower lasted a spare few moments of joy before some unknown timer beeped and the flow ceased. Technically, Oren's little sanitary rooms didn't exist, but Aukai didn't involve himself any more with his illicit businesses besides what he already was involved with.

He changed in the shower into a plaintively similar pair of clothing of what he had just changed out of. When he repeated the pattern that reactivated the hidden panel, he stepped out to find Oren absorbed in another one of his number games, sitting upright on his flawlessly made bed. He stuffed his dirty clothes - he got a whiff as he did so - into his bag. He plopped into a chair and allowed its momentum to spin him softly in circles.

Oren was not a man that induced conversation. People had to induce conversation with him. And only at his cold, bitter approval.

"So, who am I going against tonight?" Aukai induced.

There was a moment of silence. There was always a moment of silence. "Gyro, Quince, Kieran, and Vinnick. Those are all you need to worry about." Conversation had been approved.

Aukai paused in his chair twirling as a harsh red, angrily contradicting the room's soft fuzzy color of blue, flushed the apartment. "Curfew. Curfew." The automated voice droned, "You have 30 minutes to regain your residences or you will be arrested. I repeat, you have 30 minutes to regain your residences or you will be arrested."

A grin spread across Aukai's face, as eager as a child. Oren, more conscious of his expression than actually seeing it, tightened his lips. It was the equivalent in this sense to him doing the same.



Aukai moved like a breath. It was so unlike his grounded, two-footed self, this graceful and confident replica of the clumsy boy in a man's body. He was not racing, not yet, but he moved easily, breathlessly. The thrum of the sleek board beneath his feet woke some different part of him. He hovered around the sectioned off part of metal landing where the racers waited, chatting happily with those that called him out from the sidelines.

His fingers, quite literally, thrummed with power. It wasn't illegal to wear stabilizers, but he was unusual in that he wore so few of them and that the ones that he did wear were in the form of his gloves. He actually didn't favor them that much and came to the deduction that too many stabilizers over-stabilized a rider: limited the ability to turn freely, to operate instinctively. They vibrated, tickling his palms.

As the time drew near he pulled himself away from the crowd, stopping in his assigned place. A curious scarf hung around his neck, and he plucked it into his fingers, placing it over the bridge of his nose. He pressed the edge of the scarf's fabric into his cheeks, over his jaw, around his neck. Where he touched, the scarf grew black teeth and bit into his skin. A flash of blue shot to his collar. Where the scarf touched him his skin stung, but he could suddenly breathe easily, and his heart rate regulated.

Oren delved in many other unlicensed businesses besides hover racing. Aukai never asked about them.

Aukai adjusted his footing as he felt the shift in the air. He tipped himself forward, revving the board's soft engines, his eyes focusing on the path ahead of him. A beautiful, tantalizingly revealing woman strutted into the racer's lane, a glass tablet in her painted fingers. She held it up, and the tablet projected a red screen.

"5...4..."

The light turned yellow.

"3...2..."

It blinked in time with the euphoric counting of the crowd.

Aukai didn't hear the last of it. He streaked off when he felt the light turn green.

Oren was right in his calculated assumption. Only those who he named clung to the front, the rest painstakingly lagging behind. Aukai darted through the turns, his best asset in the races his ability to twist cleanly through the air. Time slowed, time raced before him.

His eyes narrowed upon the figure who held first. Vinnick. His ridiculously flamboyant hair flashed at him tauntingly, a bright red flag daring him, mocking him, to catch it. He didn't know Vinnick well enough to dislike him as he did, and he honestly felt shame for not having a solid reason to do so, except for a feeling that he had. There was something in the way he moved his arms too much, in the way he talked too fast, in the way his eyes glinted with some condensed form of emotion. He didn't like it. He reminded him of a snake formed out of flame.

As they looped a sharp corner, there was a flash of white light. Aukai blinked and suddenly Gyro and Quince's boards were flying towards his face. He ducked down, swooping dangerously low, and he threw his arms out to his sides to straighten himself. His board quivered for a few spare moments, its engines whining, before he allowed it to raise him back to the correct height. The duck had gained him momentum, and he bore down on Vinnick.

Where his board was sleek, maneuverable, and efficient, Vinnick's was all raw power. His ears filled with its noise and his nose with its exhaust. Aukai still had yet to figure out if the board was the handiwork of a genius or the result of finding the right combination in a back alley garage. He gained on him, until the noses of their boards were parallel.

Sirens. Sirens? Did he hear sirens? Yes. Those were definitely sirens.

In a moment of comradery in that they both realized at the same time that the cops were here, that they were going top speeds and unable to slow down, and that they were both about to get arrested, they looked upon each other in shared looks of holy-shit. Then, they both remembered that they were supposed to turn a while ago. A building loomed in front of them.

They both yelled and veered in opposite directions, Vinnick flaring his stabilizers against the side of the building and Aukai twisting his body so the board faced it. Each disappeared from the other's sight.

The bottom of the board skidded against the windows, leaving long streaks of black. Behind him, he heard the sirens nearing, though he didn't know how he heard them over the board overheating. He pressed forward, darting between buildings and down alleys at a dangerous pace.

He swiveled himself to a stop after plunging deeper down into the Neath, somewhere in a dirty alley. With a sweaty hand, he pressed the chip at his neck, which communicated to the board to power down. Its lights dimmed, its fans slowed to a low whine, and he unhooked himself from the board. He pressed it to his chest, ignoring the searing heat that accompanied it. He didn't know how long he waited. A long time. Finally, he allowed his chip to pull a map into his mind.

He swallowed hard and squeezed his eyes shut. How had he not recognized where he had been going?

"Home sweet home," he whispered.

Kas Mason - Nether

It’s been a while since Kas ventured to the lower levels of the Nether, he didn’t know what it was that possessed him to make the trip today. The lower levels were rowdy, loud, filled with sounds that grinded against his ears and blinded his eyes with colour spots. But then, in retrospect, it was the same wherever he went. It just depended on what he wished to shut out.

Or, it could be the hoverboard races that brought him back. He wasn’t usually one to reminiscent about the past, he was someone who lived in the present. Yet, he missed the atmosphere and had come to simply relish old times.

Kas surveyed the crowd from the shade of his ball-cap, his eyes capturing every single little detail. Nothing out of the ordinary, the usual crowd though he’s heard news that someone from the Upper was entertaining themselves with this. Though whispers carry many messages, and most aren’t always the truth.

Kas then took a good look at the racers, none he recognized. Things had changed, the new replaces the old like tides coming in at dusk. Time moves too fast, too soon for his own taste. Distantly, he heard the (what's his face?) calling for the last bets. Snapping back to reality, he caught the tail-end of the countdown before the crowd erupted into a cacophony of calls and shouts. And the boards streaked around like silver comets.

He marvelled at the boards, their streamlined, sleek design, this was obviously an area that made huge money. And people enjoyed being ripped off, he leaned back and laced his hands behind his back. Relishing more of the crowd than the actual race, it felt good, it felt alive. The air pulsated with shouts and the smell of sweat, bodies gyrating against each other in this crowded flesh.

Anchored.

Flesh.

Solid.

His mentality lately had been slipping because of the constant glitches in his memory, something was wrong and he wanted to know what it was. But, at the same time, he knew that goal was as unachievable as teleporting himself to the Upper.

He was unpleasantly jostled and subsequently shoved by....a rushing stampede of people? Kas took a moment to recollect his thoughts whilst rushing to his feet, finally registering the shrill whoop of a police raid.

Oh shit. Seriously.

Kas sighed, not that he was afraid of the police, but they were a huge pain in the ass. Not to mention this crowd, Kas kicked the knee of the person in front of him and watched as they cursed before buckling to the ground. He casted them an apologetic glance before jumping across to cross to the nearest exit, consequently knocking down several others in a similar fashion.

Survival of the fittest. Incidentally so, there were several police stationed at the exits. One made the grievous mistake of approaching Kas, thought the police had the advantage of a better-suited Kas had the upper-hand of experience and lighter maneuver.His body was the one that did the work, very rarely does Kas physically think about the moves and actions he commits.

And it was so, perhaps a minute or two later. Kas calmly wiped the blood on his shirt and exited the god-forsaken only to find himself immerse in another human ocean.

Terrific.

The sirens filled her ears, making her head ring until she turned on the mufflers. A cute little addition to her earpiece, they cut out any unwanted noise. She saw the boarders spiral down the chasm and disappear. Satisfied that they weren't about to be arrested and cause her problems with their sponsors, she disappeared into the streets. Glancing left and right, she knocked on a door, then turned the handle, swearing as she found it locked. Continuing on along the street, she whispered Nike's name to call him.

"Nike, where are you?" She hissed, glancing backwards at the sound of heavy footsteps and wincing.

"Floor 37, that really curvy lane that cuts through the rock." He replied.

"I'm on the floor of the race." She leaned against a wall. "Wait - floor 37? How on earth did you get down there so fast? I'm still on floor 32!" She heard him chuckle and sighed. "Any way, that doesn't matter. Just make sure that you don't get caught by the police, will you? I don't feel like finding another second, and I like my life how it is now. The boss would rip me apart." She hung up on him then continued on.

The hiss of hydraulics cut through the mufflers as the police passed the end of the corridor. As they passed, she saw a hooded guy pass her by and grabbed his arm, pulling him close to her so they were flat against the wall.

"Hey, you don't want to go that way." His long hair fell into her eyes. "Come with me." Grabbing him by the wrist, she tried to pull him along. As he didn't move, she turned back to him and shrugged.

He jerked his wrist from her grip and calmly nailed her gaze with a total deadpan look, "No."

She sighed. "Listen, buster. You go that way, you walk into the cops. Now, I don't normally give a second fuck about people who walk around on my turf, but walking into the police ain't nice. So don't go that way, and follow me, cause I can find somewhere to hide." Her voice was a low growl and she was leaning forwards towards him. If it hadn't been bad enough being ratted out by someone now she had to deal with a blockhead who didn't seem to realize that this was a difficult situation.

He appeared to be totally unfazed by her speech. If anything, he looked almost amused, patronizing so. "Please kid, I don't give a shit about cops." And with that, he shoved her back, squared in the chest before striding confidently away.

"Oh, man. You really want to mess with a memory gang?" She rolled her shoulders back. "Maybe you don't give a shit about the cops, but you should give a shit about fucking with us." She huffed, then turned away.

"Whatever." He called out, though she could now detect a thread of unease, and was that, curiosity in his voice? She knew, she had him. And as expected, she felt a tap on her shoulder as he looked down at her.

"I will come on one condition. Information."

She smirked. "I'll see what I can do, but you don't call the shots here."

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh yes, yes I do."

"Kid, you don't. I run this area, I'm pretty sure all you do is throw your fists around. I could have your memory wiped if I wanted to. So shut your trap, now, please, and let me concentrate." She flicked out her wrist, calling up her keyboard. After a few minutes of frantic typing, her earring crackled with slight noise as it transmitted to her eardrum. The police frequency.

"The informer -" Another crackle as they jumped frequency, then as her chip caught up. [i]"A girl with neon hair, apparently."[i] She ground her teeth together. The Upper. That insufferably smug wave and smirk of his. That stupidly charming face. No Nether would inform on a race, there were too many dangers involved. But an Upper, an Upper would do it without any qualms. So they were looking for her. Well if they wanted a girl with neon hair, they wouldn't get one.

Shaking her head vigourously, she dispelled the smart dye, returning her hair to its original mousy brown state. A smile curled her lips. Let them arrest her now. She glanced back at the guy, who was staring at her slightly. "It's smart dye. The police are looking for me. I don't want to be arrested. C'mon."

His lips thinned tensely, but he still followed her up through the levels. Clearly the police were so far only looking on the floors the race had been concentrated on. Though they had started to filter through the floors, they were mainly going downwards. Alyx smirked. As if a ranking member of a gang would live down at the bottom of the Chasm. Even though it was pass curfew, ads and signs still light up the streets, hanging in midair, and shifting place from time to time.

Flashing her wrist at a door, it opened up to reveal a small corridor that ran parallel to the Chasm. Gesturing inside, she looked up at the guys she had accosted. "After you."

He glanced down the corridor then back at her. "Hell no."

She sighed, resting a hand on her hip and tapping her fingers impatiently. "Look. You can go down the corridor, or I can lock you into this part that we've walked into, cal the police, and let them pack you away."

Narrowing his eyes at her, he frowned. "You can't- "

She pressed a button on the keyboard that had appeared on her wrist. The distinct sound of a metal shutter closing echoed from the end of the street they had come down. A raised eyebrow.

"You wouldn't. You wouldn't rat out a Nether. You're a Nether too." He seemed so utterly convinced of this fact that she almost smiled. Instead she scowled.

"There's a lot I would do. Now just get down that corridor."

He hesitated a while, seeming to judge whether she would actually do it or not, then shrugged and started down the corridor. Alyx entered after him, flicking the door shut and turning on the lights. Shrugging off her coat, she rolled her shoulders. At the end of the corridor, she pushed past him and chucked the coat onto the bed as she sat on a hovering chair.

"Welcome to my house," she leaned back and tucked her arms behind her head. "I'm Alyx. I don't believe I got your name."

Asami straightened her tie in the mirror in front of her. "Ladies and gentlemen. For a long time, the Upper has felt an era of prosperity while the Nether lagged behind in technology." A stray gray hair fell to block her vision and she got distracted. "Uh, at Sato Industries, we," she squinted her eyes to block out the hair, but it failed, "oh this isn't going to work." She sighed and swiped the strand behind her ear and looked back at the mirror. The tie didn't match the suit she was wearing, and she waved halfheartedly at the mirror, her suit rippling through different colors.

"Miss Sato, indecisive as ever, I see." A female voice called behind her. She turned, seeing Councilman Ryota. In her short stature, Asami somewhat towered over her, but she had this aura that radiated from her, whether it be from her pixie cut hair or her tight dress, she was intimidating. And evil-looking (but Asami kept that one to herself), nonetheless, she was one of the more helpful people on the Council, and a close friend to Asami's late father.

Now, to Asami? Not so much. She was civil at least, but you could tell when Asami got on her nerves. And now was one of those times. She had veins protruding from her temple, and her smile was drawn tight.

"It's the tie that's doing it, don't you think?" Asami offered in way of conversation.

"I think it's fitting. Going for a more formal approach this time around?" She was clearly trying to bait Asami in, or warn her. But subtlety was not Asami's forte.

"You know how the Council is, Ryota." She stopped at a vibrant blue in the tie that radiated softly into the rest of the outfit and smiled. "Perfect." She turned back to face the councilman. "I expect we'll be starting soon."

Her face was grave, the smile had disappeared. "Yes, yes. Make your father proud, Asami."

She left with as much dignity as she could collect and Asami had a little time for herself before the meeting started. This wasn't the first time she stood before the Council to discuss the future plans she had, but this was the first time she was going to discuss the Neath. Most people in the Upper either don't know about the Neath, pretend not to know about it, or frequent it for the money or sex. They most certainly do not try to fix it. Fixing the Neath would be like trying to get rid of memory swiping. It was highly improbable, some would even say impossible.

But Dad never did. He strove to do the impossible. It was his dream to get them to the Upper. Even after Mom died, he still tried to do what's right. She absentmindedly rubbed her right glove, inspecting the intricacies of it's electric wiring. It was not just a glove. It was a weapon.

There was a slight rap-tap on the door, and she turned to see a familar face beaming back at her. "Councilman Cole." She started, bowing dramatically.

"CEO Single-Lady Sato." He returned the bow with a flourish of his gloved hand. "Tsk, tsk, Asami, you look ready to take on the world."

She laughed somewhat dryly. "Or a group of angry Councilmen."

He let himself in, staring at his reflection in the mirror for a moment. "Oh yes, you have them quite riled up about trying to trifle with the Neath."

"How many do you think are on my side?"

"Enough." She elbowed him, and he turned to her and smiled. "Asami, don't worry. You'll do fine. Most of them are on the fence anyway, all it'll take is a little nudge in the right direction."

She fixed his collar, patting it down slowly. "You are famous for your nudges."

"You don't know how true you are." He turned to Asami. "Maybe you could help me out a bit after this?"

She chuckled. "Oh, no Melee, I know your form of wanting help. We've been down this road before."

He looked her up and down one last time. "You can't blame a man for trying." He strode to the door. "I'll butter them up for you, Miss Sato."

"Councilman Cole." With a wink and a small bow, he left the room and the door slid shut with a soft hiss. Asami pulled her bangs back, and with a sigh, left the room.

The way to the chamber was eerily quiet, with all employees either working or already ahead of her inside the chamber already. She could hear her heart thumping silently in the odd way it does, and her wrist computer silently humming along. There's not many places in the Upper where no noise other than oneself was going on. It was slightly calming to not hear constant chaos for just a couple of seconds.

That ended. Abruptly. The door slid open to the chamber, and the circle of thirteen Council members were arguing noisily amongst each other. Apparently some had not felt the need to be there in person, as some spots were replaced with the Arctic's famous waterfall hologram. Melee's father sat to the right of the President, as one of the three senior councilmen. Melee himself sat at the end of the right arm of the council, looking around with a small, crooken smile.

The conversation fell almost as soon as the door opened, but it was too late. They all knew what the argument was about, and that hung in the air with thick strands.

Asami stood tall, held her head up, and marched into the room. The lights went dim around her as the AI in her arm started up the presentation. "Ladies and gentlemen. We all know why I'm here today, so there really isn't a need for me to talk at all, I'm sure most of you have made up your minds." She motioned to the screen. "However, I'm going to share with you something of my past, since most of you don't remember it or weren't even born yet. Hopefully, after this, you'll see why I'm doing this."

She waved a hand, and a symbol appeared on the screens. "The Power Trio. The Power Trio was an alliance of sorts. A coalition, if you will, of gangs in over a dozen floors of the Neath. They prided themselves with control over a valuable resource back when I was younger: air. Good, clean air was hard to come by in both the Upper and Neath, and still is to this day for most in the Neath, but back then, it was used as a currency. And whatever currency the Neath uses, the gangs holds most of it.

"My father was an honorable man, "Asami continued, waving again to an faded picture of her dad working at an engineering facility, "working wherever he could. And one of those places was an eco-ventilation system, under the influence of the Power Trio. Unknowingly, he walked right into the hands of one of the nasiest gangs in the Neath at the time. As most of you know, my father was one of the brightest minds of his time, and left a legacy that will affect people centuries from now."

She stopped. Most of the councilmen had frowns on their faces, stubborn as they were. She was losing them before she was even to the proposition. "Without going into too much detail about my past life, I want to get to the reason I'm telling you this story. You see, my father believed that the Neath deserved to be free from having to use basic essentials as something to barter and buy things. Air is not a currency, it's something we all need and use. Air is not a thing to kill people over." She sighed. "Like my mother."

"Allowing some people to have more air or better air than others is a thing of the past. He spent his life trying to fix that, and now, we're at the final step of getting good, clean air to everyone in Antarctica. It's going to be a long process, but Sato Industries is willing to lead th-"

"Miss Sato." The President, an older man with a crooked nose and a bionic eye staring down at her suspiciously. "Theatrics and persuasion won't work with this one. You're stepping into dangerous territory." He motioned to the rest of the council. "We represent the Upper, and all that has been successful in making it what it is today. We understand that for the last few decades you have been valuable in creating what the Upper is today, but the Upper and the Nether are two diffferent places. Trying to move your business to the Nether is something that has been tried before, and failed each. And. Every. Single. Time." He tapped his fingernail on the arm of his chair to emphasize each word. He leaned in, eyes seemingly trying to scan her or blow her away like she was an annoying hair. "What makes you think you are any different?"

Asami cleared her throat, countering expression solidly. "I'm different, because I know. I know what it's like to live in the Nether." She waved a hand, and the presentations turned to a small machine that looked simple enough, but it twisted her heart. "This is not just a machine, this was a murder weapon. This device poured enough carbon monoxide into the air to kill my mother. And no one batted an eye because this is the norm down there. People die everyday because of the situation of the air." She closed her eyes and waved her arm again, and the presentation shut off. "Mr. President, if you allow me to do this, I will make sure things like this never happens again."

The President raised his head, his mouth furled into a snarl. "No. I think it is high time Sato Industries stopped shoving themselves into places where they don't belong."

Asami stepped forward. "Coming here, asking the council is only a formality. I don't nee-"

"Mr. President." Melee stood up, and the President sighed. "I know, I know. This is a complicated position we are all in. The Nether is a dangerous place, and I know we all are concerned for Miss Sato's safety and the safety of her company in general. However, if evidence were presented to the Council that there are places in the Nether safe enough to build a factory, and my assurance she doesn't get into too much trouble," he sent a small wink to Asami, "then I think it's safe that the Council can give her their full support in making the Nether a nicer, safer place."

Melee's father hid a small smile under a cough. "Then a motion is set. To allow Miss Sato to lead Sato Industries, please raise your hand." Melee raised his almost immediately, a crooked smile on his face. Little by little, more people raised their hands, and it felt like a knot in Asami's chest just went away at the sight. The President was staring at her the entire time. He didn't raise his hand, but simply grunted.

"Miss Sato. Give me a reason to stop you, just one, and I will do it without a second thought." He slid a hand over his right arm, and turned. "This meeting is adjourned."

Asami let out a breath she didn't know she was holding and turned to Melee. He grinned at her and stepped down from his podium. "Well, Miss Sato. You got what you wanted."

She clapped his on the back. "Thank you, Councilman Cole. Now I need to find a place to start building a new branch."

He waved it off nonchalantly. "Don't even worry about it. I'm going down there tomorrow with a friend anyway. I'll get you some pictures and we'll get this on the way." He looked back at the council. "I didn't really know your father personally, but I think he'd be proud of you. You managed not to fight any of the council today."

She smiled softly. "I try."

As soon as Jax heard the sirens he knew there was a slim chance he would get caught. Knowing his boss would not appreciate his top fighter in jail, Jax started to weave his way through the mass of people fighting to get to the exits.

Jax was lucky that he had rescued kids from this area before. They have told him about the secret passages that they had found to get between floors. Making sure that no one was watching him, he slipped into a small opening. Heading down to a lower floor was probably not the best idea, but he had little choice in the matter. Following the light that was peeking through at the end of the passage, Jax stepped over the trash that had been left be the previous travelers. He believed that this would take him down to the 35th floor, but he wasn't completely sure.

He stepped out into the light and found himself not on the 35th floor. Jax surveyed his surroundings trying to plan his next move. He spotted the guy that was with the multicolored hair girl earlier. It's odd that I would see him again.

Hearing the faint sounds of sirens, he hurried over and grabbed the guy by his jacket sleeve and pulled him into an alley. Covering the guy's mouth, Jax held one finger up to his lips. The guy nodded in understanding and Jax removed his hand.

The cops passed by, patrolling for anyone that was out after curfew. Jax let out the breath that he had been holding. No matter how many times he escaped, he was always afraid that he could get caught at anytime.

Jax turned to the guy beside him, "I'm Jax, and you're welcome."

The look on the guy's face told Jax that he was not amused. "Nike, and I would've been fine on my own. But thanks anyway." He started to make his way out of the alleyway.

"Hey, you know there are passages that you can use to get around instead of walking the streets, right?" Jax figured he could do another good deed tonight.

"Yeah, actually, I did." Nike pointed to a small opening between two buildings. "I was getting ready to head up now."

"You mind if I tag along? I'm not exactly sure which floor I'm on at the moment." Jax was embarrassed by this fact, but he knew he needed to go up and avoid the police somehow.

"Sure, just don't slow me down." Nike made his way over to the opening with Jax following closely.

"So, where are you headed?" Jax asked. He didn't want to end up in another mob's territory.

"Just my boss' place," Nike answered.

Melee Cole // The Upper

It was a well-documented fact that Melee had a chronic problem with boredom. Over his course as a councilman, he'd headed up projects that no one else would touch; he'd spend more hours than thought possible doing perilous things in perilous places. He had reclaimed an entire habitat on the northern coast for the sake of penguins for Christsake. But something about the night--be it the dirtier Nether air or his preoccupation with getting a foothold in the pit--had him completely disinterested in Lana, which was going over as well as predicted.

He hadn't stopped her from doing what she wanted, drinking what wine she wanted or kissing what skin she wanted to kiss, but the gravity of his mind was fixated on that one girl from the Nether.

Imagine her laughing.

Imagine her on trial.

Imagine her extraction.

He turned the news on on the wall across from his bed and scanned the available headline segments. The memories of that one girl could win him his turf and the admiration of the gleaming public. He stopped when he found one pop up fresh from the cameras.



Melee shifted from beneath the sheets and away from Lana's tangle around his body. He played the clip.

Reporter: Chief Altraz, do we have the identity of the woman arrested? Have you got a gang leader on your hands?

Altraz: To the best of our knowledge, the memories contained in this woman will elaborate much about the nature of the Nether and the gangs operating therein.

Reporter (to the girl): Do you have an official statement for the folks watching at home? Are you the leader of a memory gang?!

Neon Girl: I am myself, you punk-ass bitch, and no memory wipe will tell you anything el--!

Melee froze the screen and stood. He had absentmindedly turned on his vaporizer and sucked half of the dose away during the clip. The girl--she was all wrong. Her hair was too long, she had wider eyes. She wasn't his girl. He held the vaporizer in his teeth and tied the waist string around a pair of lounge pants on the floor. He paced his hallway. A trail of vapor steam followed him as he walked. His head began to clear, but the girl was still the center of his gravity.

He stopped in his bathroom. He dropped the vaporizer in the sink. He pissed. He splashed his face with water. The Soma seeped through his bloodstream, returning his wild eyes to their sedate, cool-natured camera pose. What was that nonsense? His girl. The obsessing.

Really, what could one bystander have done to get inside his head so easily? A glare. Neon hair. It was ridiculous and silly.

Silly, that is, unless she had planted herself there on purpose.

He tapped his fingers on the sink and moved his mouth around, mulling the idea. It was certainly possible that the memory gangs had learned how to implant. In fact, it was almost assured. But to do so with a passing glance? That was certainly impossible. Had there been a Pavlovian association? He thought of his past girlfriends. Not one of them had messed with smart dyes. They were all, and he was certain of this, naturally brunette.

And of course they were. He was a man with a type. And a blonde girl with glowing streaks didn't fit the bill. It had to be artificial implantation. A low growl rolled in his throat. He booted his vaporizer again and began to inhale. He was a councilman. A dignified paragon of Nikaran society. Melee cleaned his mind of the entire event. He kept his eyes closed until he could breathe easy.

"Voicemail to Asami Sato, please."

He took his vape to hand and cleared his throat.

"Go.

Miss Sato! It's so nice to see you again. I hope you'll forgive my state of undress as it is, after all, the middle of the night. I leave you a voicemail out of courtesy, and I'd like to meet up and discuss a very promising location where I believe we can begin rennovations nearly immediately in order to make way for your wonderful plans and foundational ideals. As I'm not much of one for sleep, you may return my call at any time. I hope that you'll accept my offer of help as a partnership in your venture. Trust me as I say that I have matters to gain in this affair as well. May you rest, ironically, in peace."

A returned glance to the mirror as he finished off the Soma. His girl. How ludicrous.

He was going to see his mother.

His thick blonde brows remained knotted, as if they had been that way all along. Oren's electronic scarf - respiratory synthesizer, whatever that meant - remained teethed into his skin, shooting bright sparks of blue. At each pulse of light his surroundings were thrown into life; disgusting, repulsive, stained, bloody life. He was a foreigner embarking on a planet that had long since shuttered its last diseased breath. Is this where he had grown up, where he had run rampant as his parents worked, where he had been shushed and held still in his cramped cot with his brother? His younger memories quivered in the back of his head, wrought with fear of this unknown place that so contradicted what they held. It was as if he had a memory wipe and his childhood was replaced with some other, higher born boys'.

But, no. There was the dirty offices his father often visited for work. And there was the pawn shop, where Esther, a girl with freckles and braids that used to throw trash in his hair, lived. And the scorch marks on that apartment building that Tobias lived, where he had dared the Guernsey twins to steal Mr. Purnik's repair fuser that he used for work, and it had exploded when they had tried to weld their initials on the wall. They had been without hair for over six months. Zen had nicknamed them the Siamese Weasels. It eventually shortened to just the Weasels, and he remembered that they had to move too, after their father had been mugged and left to die after curfew.

"Don't, ever, promise me, Aukai, are you even listening? Promise. Me. Don't go outside after curfew alone. Did you hear me? Ever. I'll never forgive you if you do. Did you hear me? Never, ever." Zen's younger voice whispered in his ear, as if he was still curled up next to him, bodies shifting around them through thin plastic walls.

A heavy feeling of foreboding settled on his shoulders. It was sudden, enough for him to pause in his distracted wandering. He was on a main walkway. He became strikingly aware of the worn down concrete he stood on. To his left, there were cramped together buildings and squinting black windows, as if a giant had reached down and pinched them all together. To his right, a single, greasy handrail. Then the reason why his former home is called the Mouth to Hell.

He stumbled away, his throat clogging in fear. It had been so long since he had looked down and not seen the faint twinkling of lights, a reassurance that something was below him. He had been comforted, eased into content. He had forgotten what it felt like to look between his toes and see nothing. He breathed heavily, his synthesizer buzzing to calm his heartbeat.

He moved as if to stand, peering at the edge of the world, when grimy fingers suddenly grasped at his throat. He gasped, then wished he hadn't. Precious air left his body. He flailed for a moment before reason returned to him and he smashed his head back into the man's face. His body seemed to crumple away, but his fingers held firm. The grip of a desperate man. Painstakingly, he peeled the fingers that held him captive away and flung his attacker off of him.

He had forgotten about his hoverboard. No, not his; Oren's. The shirtless man scrambled for it. Aukai cried out and flung himself at the man, but he had already slipped out of his reach. He clambered to his feet and pounded after him, following as he darted between alleys.

No, nonononono. I can't loose the hoverboard. I can't. Ican'tIcan'tIcan't. Fucking wipe me.

He sprinted, diving for the man as he tripped on a pile of garbage. In a catastrophe of crinkling noise and the squish of unknown liquid, he struggled with the man, wiggling the board out of his hands. He pushed it away and it skidded.

They continued to struggle, flailing noisily, both laboring to gain advantage of the other. Aukai was pointedly aware of the man's bones beneath him, his ribs like fine grooves, his arms like weeds. His skin, when illuminated, was smudged black with soot of some kind and his veins were slithering ghosts under pale flesh. His gut twisted.

A flash of silver. A sharp feeling of cold against his stomach. A sensation of peeling, of something skinning him, of something falling off. Of warmth pouring through his abdomen, spilling onto the ground, splashing against the trash they wallowed in. Aukai gasped, pain tingling through his fingertips. He felt that it radiated there.

In a sudden jolt of energy, Aukai gripped the man's shoulders and twisted the both of them off the pile of trash, to his right, to the edge. The man, his eyes wild, clawed at Aukai's eyes, his knife lost somewhere amongst the dark. Aukai ignored his desperate thrashing and kicked at the man's middle. A few quick, powerful thrusts of his leg. The man was emaciated, shockingly thin. His body slid through the gap in the handrail easily enough.

His ears filled with such an accusing silence that he sat there as he was, his foot still dangling off the edge, one hand propping him up and the other cradling his stomach. His expression slowly shifted, became twisted in horror. The only thing to disturb the scene was the flash of the fabric around his throat. Finally, he moved, but it was to curl into a tight quivering ball of accusation.

Imaginary faces whirled through his head. What if the man had a wife, a child, children? What if he needed the hoverboard to feed them? What if he was a brother, a son, a best friend? What if he needed the board to feed them, too?

He had just killed a man.

He wasn't sure how long he laid there. Hours? What did it matter? That man wouldn't know of them. However, Aukai became increasingly aware of his limbs screaming, his organs moaning, the spots scattering across his vision. He felt guilty for wanting to live.

He struggled to his feet, leaning on the rail for support. He stumbled to his board, his fingers clumsy to grip it. He held it to his chest, his blood slippery over its ever smooth surface. He limped down the path the opposite way he had originally walked, his hazy vision occasionally straying to the abyss that waited at the tips of his fingers. So close, he thought.

Someone's voice. Was it? No. Yes. Zen? No, too deep. Oren? No. definitely not. Who, then?

He couldn't make out the words, either from his blood loss or his refusal to. Finally, he turned his head towards the unfamiliar person that pestered him at his side. He was tugging him, pulling him away from the edge. He tried to push him away, to no avail, and then Aukai let him lead him down a multitude of alleys like a dog. There was a bright light, the swish of a door opening. He was led inside. His vision grew ever ambiguous. More voices. Shouting? He was prompted towards a bed. He tried to curl up, but they held his limbs down. He screamed as something jagged stabbed into his abdomen, and then he slept.

Asami Sato - The Day Of (Saturday)

Asami sat in her office, finalizing the official plans to officially allow Melee to officially set foot in the Neath.

Melee peered over his tablet to look at the plans. "Looks official. Are you finished yet?"

She peered at him dryly over her reading glasses, still writing on the virtual pad. "Like the last thirteen times, not yet." She motioned over to him with open arms. "Perhaps you would like to finish it up?"

"No thanks, I don't do the boring stuff. I'm much more of a hands-on, front lines type of person." He sighed and set the tablet down. "There's nothing to do in the Nether. I've checked all the websites. No vibroskating, no memory movies, no nothing."

"Just don't do anything illegal. If you taint this and the President pulls the plug, I don't want to deal with the aftermath."

"Miss Sato," he gasped in mock shock, "I know my way around both the Upper and the Neath."

She looked up at him. "I thought it was called the Nether?"

"No, no, the people are called Nether. The actual place is called the Neath." He shrugged at her puzzlement. "Don't look at me like that, I didn't name it."

She went back to focusing on the pad. "I can't believe I have to sign for so many things. Half of this stuff is just filler to delay the paperwork." She made a final swirl and clicked off her pen. "However, I've been doing this a for a very long time."

"So are we finished?" He stood up and stretched. "That was very dull. Am I allowed to go yet?"

She pulled something out of her drawer. "Not yet. Here." She handed him a glove much like hers, "This is something to help you out for self defense if you need it. A little prototype of my own design. An electric glove."

"Asami, I can't take this from you." He muttered, suddenly serious.

"It's up to you whether or not you take it. Just know that I've offered. It's a strong weapon and easy enough to use."

"You are a tough one, Asami." He took the glove. "Fine, I'll take it. Let's hope I won't have to use it. Playing me at my own game. You and I are more alike than you know."

"The only difference between you and I?" She moved in to him. Her words barely above a whisper. "I've been playing the game a lot longer." Stuffing the pad into his other hand, she turned around. "Now you can leave. Make sure that gets to the Council before you depart."

"Thank you for this gift, Miss Sato." At the door, he turned back to her. "Oh, I have more than a few tricks up my sleeve at this game."

That Night

"Miss Sato?" Yyle knocked on her door, and she waved it open. "You have a message from a Councilman Cole."

"Thank you, patch it in for me." She went back to her report. An outpost has reported that economic conditions near the coast have been lowering these past few months because of the pollution flowing down from Africa-

"Miss Sato?" It was Yyle again.

"Yes, Yyle?"

"I'm going to go, Miss Sato." He hesitated. "It's... uh"

"Your birthday tomorrow. I know. Go ahead and take tomorrow off to do what you please."

"Thank you, Miss Sato."

She sighed as he left, turning to open the message. What was in front of her was a barely clothed and, well, not nervous, people of high rank don't get nervous anymore, but he had something off about him. He seemed distracted.

She sighed. "Go.

Councilman Cole, such a pleasure to see you again, even if it is in a more casual outfit. Don't worry, I don't sleep well on the weekends either, but thank you for the voicemail. I would like to get working on that foundation as soon as possible, so set up a location tomorrow in the Neath and send me the details. I look forward to discussing this further." She ended the call with a smile, but something about his message disturbed her. He had something on his mind, and that was dangerous for a member of the Council. Who knew how much the Council controlled in the Neath, and how dangerous just not being your best was down there. But, in time, and if she was able to get the information, then all will be fine.

Hopefully.

Kas

Kas shot her a wary look as he surveyed the house, "Name's Kas." 

"Nice to meet you. What was the information you wanted?"

 Kas weighed his words carefully, his eyes pierced the girl's with a predatory glint, clearly still wary and tense. He clenched and unclenched his jaw, before spitting the following words. "Everything you've got."
 
 
 
Reaching over to her desk, she picked up a small stick and started picking at her nails. "You have to be a little more specific than that. I know an awful lot of things. You want to know everything I've got about what exactly?"

Kas scowled. For seemed like the millionth time that day, or more likely, he was trying to control the urge to just punch this girl's pretty little face in. But that might not land him in the best situation. Suffice to say, he wasn't used to being questioned by puny little girls.
"I want to know about what you have on memory wipes."

"Oh, well you just had to say so!" She smirked, moving the chair over to the desk and switching on the screen. "Computer, search memory wipes." The computer chirped, then a hologram of a brain appeared in the room.

 "Memory wipes, otherwise known as Memory eradication. The procedure consists of sendi-" 

"Skip the medical stuff."

"The result is permanent removal of all of the patient's memories. These can be stored, like with extractions. Some hypothesize that these memories can be restores through implants, but this has not yet been thoroughly investigated." 

"Thank you, computer," The girl said, before turning back to Kas, arching an eyebrow and tapping on the arm rest of the chair. "Is that what you wanted to know?"

 Kas had to admit, that was pretty damn impressive, he grudgingly gave her a nod before frowning and squinting at the computer. "What else can it do, I have tons of other questions." His question didn't sound like a question, it was basically a demand of do or die.
 
She narrowed her eyes at him. "Watch your tone, kid." Turning back to the computer, she tapped a few keys on the keyboard at her wrist. "Just ask away. It recognizes your voice pattern now."

Kas bristled at her terminology, his fingers twitching to pluck her up and just dump her somewhere. It's not like she would get lost and killed or anything, she's a damn cockroach. In fact, that's exactly what he's going to call her.

"You watch your tone, cockroach." He watched the fireworks of emotions on her face before turning to face the computer and said. "Cockraches"

Kas froze. Fear dominated his brain for a second before rage took over and tremors slowly spread over his toned body. His muscles coiled and thrummed as he striked out in a flurry of precise, practiced motoon that ended up with him pressing Alyx flushed against the floor. Their faces inches apart. Both panting, eyes furious and fierce. 

“You.” He said quietly. In a tone laced with anger.

"Me. Get the fuck off of me," she snarled. She tucked her knees to her and pushed upwards, lifting him off her for a few seconds, long enough for her to roll out from underneath him. There was a beep from her wrist and she smirked. "You may want to get off the floor, or my second's going to wonder what's going on."

”I don't give a fuck about your second.” Kas said, still getting up and dusted himself off. Throwing another glare in her direction as he approached the computer again. Pausing before speaking, thdn turned and addressed her. “There are others?”

She rolled her eyes at him. "No, I just run around, doing what my boss tells me to do all on my lonesome." He voice was thick with scathing sarcasm. "Now get a move on and use the computer, charity case." He opened his mouth to retort, but a soft beep sounded in the room. 

Alyx Oali | The Neath | Sunday night

Alyx sat back in the chair as Nike came into the room, then frowned as another person followed him in. Taking them in, she rubbed her forehead.

"This is not going to end well," she murmured before straightening up. "Nike! Tell me the name of your new friend, and I'll tell you mine. Looks like they're both fighters though."

Nike glared at Kas a few moments, before gesturing at the man behind him. "Jax."

"This one's Kas." Nike glanced her up and down then returned to glaring at Kas.

"What did he do to you?" He growled.

"Calm it, Nike, I'm fine." She soothed, pinning Kas with a stare as he opened his mouth. Turning to Jax, she cocked her head at him. "So why did you follow Nike all the way up here? There must be a reason."

Jax stared at the girl that now had brown hair. "There is a reason." He shifted his eyes to the others in the room. "But I'm not sure if I'm comfortable telling everyone here."

Maintaining her gaze for a while longer, she ground her teeth together. "Fine! This is the last time I bring people back." She rubbed her temple in an attempt to stave off a growing headache. "Nike, take Kas to a room with a computer, and stay with him." Nike narrowed his eyes and gestured shortly with his head for Kas to follw him down a corridor. "Don't touch him, I don't know if he's with anyone."

Returning her attention to Jax, she pointed to a sofa pushed up against the window. "You can sit down. So, what's your story?" She asked, her voice riddled with tiredness. Her fingers tapped slowly on the arm of her chair.

Jax took a seat and let a charming smile grace his lips, "Well, it's not exacty fair that you know my name, and I don't know yours now is it?"

"I'm Alyx." She blinked, then took another look at him. "You work for that gang on the 23rd, right? And you were at the race, I assume. And in the bar. This seems too many times to be a coincidence."

"Yeah, I do. Top fighter for them, for the last 12 years." He glanced at a patch of scars on his arm. "I've been having dreams every night for the past five years, and I've been told to seek out the memory gang for answers. I had seen your picture around and figured if I followed you, I might have a chance to talk with you."

"What is it with wiped people tonight?" Alyx groaned, slouching in her chair. She grabbed a bottle of gently shimmering liquid from the desk. "I'll get back to you on that tomorrow. I have a headache and I need to think about how I'm going to resolve tonight's mess with my boss. If you go find Nike and tell him that he needs to find you a place to stay for tonight, along with Kas, I'd be grateful."

Jax sighed and let his head drop for a second, then a smile found it's way to his face. He then said, "Sure thing, I will remember to find you tomorrow, though." He stood and made his way down the corridor that Nike had walked down earlier.

Alyx uncapped the bottle and took a few gulps, closing her eyes and grimacing. Disappearing frienss, a meddling Upper, people who'd been wiped. Things weren't exactly looking up for her at the moment. As Jax returned with Nike and Kas, she flashed Nike a quick smile. Flicking her wrist, she sent him a text. When you've found a place for them, come back here. He gave her a sly smile and nodded before leaving.

| early Monday morning

She woke up with Nike laying next to her, sheets tangled around his legs. Taking in the bottles on the floor and the scatter if their clothes, she groaned. This shit was happening more often recently. She clambered out of the bed, ignoring the ache of her head and the back of her neck.

She made her way into the bathroom, pressing a panel on the wall to show the shower. It has been extortionately expensive, even for her, but the musky smell that lingered was somehow comforting. By the time she had returned to her room and dressed, Nike still hadn't woken up. She wondered how he could sleep so much. She never seemed to get more than several hours sleep.

Leaving the house, she grabbed a cup of sim-coffee from the store next to her house, sipping it as she started to look through the messages from the night. One flagged as urgent shuffled itself to the front of her mind and she opened it curiously. Arty's voice tumbled into her mind.

"Hi boss. Um, it's a little late to be calling you, and I'm really sorry, but, um, well I found a guy on the bottom level, and he'd been stabbed and he was carrying a board, so I assumed he was a boarder from the race last night. I, uh, patched him up a little, but I'm not sure how well I did it. I'll wait for you before doing anything else. Floor 41, boss. I've sent you the marker."

She frowned, opening the marker. A small yellow line appeared on the edge of her vision, leading her along the streets. Blinking, she saw that it travelled down the floors and sighed. She followed it, finishing her drink and dumping it in a chute.

Down near the bottom of the Neath, a thick smog lingered in the air. It tickled her throat as she breathed it in but she resisted the urge to cough. One show of weakness, one hint that she wasn't in control of herself, and she'd be dead, knifed in the back and left for whatever animals lived down here to eat.

She ran her hand through her hair, letting the colour seep back into it as she tapped on her leg. The police didn't come down here often. She didn't have much to risk. The marker stopped in front of a door she recognised from when she had only just been wiped. She pressed the buzzer for the door, a frown on her brow.

The door swiftly opened, revealing Arty, one of the younger guys in her group. He seemed to live with a permanently anxious expression that just intensified when he was nervous.

"You're here. I was about to call you again. Um, he isn't doing too well. That board of his is somewhere. I don't know what to do with him." The words poured out of his mouth in a continuous flow, never stopping.

"Shut up, Arty." She snapped sharply, pushing past him into the tiny abode. On the bed lay a pale boy, rags around his waist but still recognisable.

"Fuck it all to hell." She swore, running a hand through a hair. She leaned back against the wall as she searched through her numbers then called one.

"Lizae. I need your help." A snort came from the other end of the line.

"Help? I'm busy, call me back later."

Alyx ground her teeth together. "I need your help, please, or else you'll be sowing parts of me together in the hope that someone can develop the tech to bring me back to life in the next few years."

"Okay, okay, just tell me where."

"Thank you. I'll send you the marker." She hung up, then forwarded her the marker she had used to get there.

Arty stared at her wide-eyed. "What's going on?"

She pointed to the boy in the bed, the stripes in his hair. "Oren's boy. Boarder."

The man's gaze darkened with the realisation. "Crap."

"You said it. Now be quiet." Her fingers tapped rapidly against the wall as she waited for Oren to pick up.

"Not now, Alyx, I'm busy." His voice wasn't cold, like usual. She could hear the hints of panic in his voice. "I haven't heard fro Aukai since the raid and he wo-"

"I've got him. I've got Aukai. He's a little worse for wear, but I've called the doctor." She waited in silence for his response.

"Really?" Relief seemed to flood his voice and she raised her eyebrows. Clearly this kid was more important than she had thought.

"I'll send you the marker."

| Aukai Frey | Nether |

It felt better biting down.

"Open your goddamn mouth."

Aukai tightened his lips again.

"I said, and oh help me someone, open, your, goddamn, mouth, before I break your jaw. You. Hold him down tighter."

Sharp fingernails gouged into his arm. He yelped and she took the opportunity to shove something hard and triangular between his top and bottom teeth. Unable to close his mouth, she proceeded to drown him. She ignored him coughing water up all over her shirt and shoved a large blue and white pill down his throat. Aukai felt like he was dying.

"Now swallow it."

He couldn't do anything else. He felt the impression of her fingers pressing against his windpipe, squeezing everything back inside of him. He swallowed in haggard starts and pauses until he felt the slimy capsule hit his stomach. His captors released him, and his hands immediately went to his stomach. He turned to the side, hacking up a lung. A hand shoved him back onto his aching spine. He spat out the triangle.

"Don't fucking move. Ugh, holy shit. You make me work for a fucking child?" The demon turned to the girl leaning against the opposite wall. "First, he's nearly dead from blood loss, second, he about gives my intern a black eye when we wake him up, then he refuses needles to even come near him, and now I have to hand feed him friggin' pills because he won't take them himself?"

"What would you have me do? My ass would be gone if he died. No one else would show." She replied hotly.

"Yeah, no shit. You owe me so much, Alyx. You know how lucky you are I even had pills on me? No one even takes pills anymore. I should have just sedated his dying ass, but that would be frowned upon in society."

"You said you didn't have sedatives." A man's voice replied. He had been the one to find Aukai.

"Well, yeah, because you basically have to have your own memory gang to get a hold of any good ones these days."

Aukai, listening to the conversation between moans, dreaded the thought of what that woman had in mind when she said she wanted to 'sedate' him. The feeling of her fingers sent shivers through his body. Usually, he wouldn't have minded being looked over by a pretty someone of the opposite sex, but this woman was inhuman. A creature that crawled out of the chasm to gain pleasure out of his misery.

She had finished her articulate description of how much she detested being called on for this. "Don't let him sleep too long until I check him again. Wake him every two hours, check his bandages and give him water, and then a pill once every four hours. Beat him if you have to. I don't care. Just don't rip the goddamn stitches."

She handed a pill bottle over to the man. He nodded, his pupils wide with mute fear of her heated attention, and placed it on a table far out of Aukai's capabilities. Aukai stared at it, his gaze slowly turning more vacant. The demon woman left, muttering "fucking child" under her breath, and the other girl, Alyx, approached.

"You caused a lot of shit for me. You'd be dead if you weren't Oren's."

Aukai slowly turned his head to her. Her face was strange; strange was the best description he could think of. No, not strange - strange would mean that she was deformed in some way. She was peculiar. There it was. Peculiar. Both charming and harsh, beautiful and plain, candid and closed off, pissed and tired all described in the same curve of her bones.

Don't get involved with the gangs, he recalled himself thinking. Don't go to prostitute dens, don't buy things from people in alleys, don't walk down Pit Drive, don't ask Oren anything he didn't want the answer to, don't go to gambling holes in the East Nether, don't do drugs, don't go in the South Nether either, and don't get involved with the gangs. He had rules that he, mostly, followed.

He knew it as if the knowledge had stabbed him in the stomach. She was a gang member. They were all gang members. He thought she would have more tattoos. Maybe she did. He didn't feel like it would be good to ask.

"I'm... sor-"

A slightly jarring beep sounded at the door. Both of them started. Finally, with an irritated huff, Alyx turned to peek through a small glass fixated at eye level. She pressed a button and the door slid open.

The figure seemed impossibly tall in that moment, a black spider raised aggressively to its full height, a striking shadow that was consciously outlined against the dimly lit entrance. He stepped inside with some urgency, effectively stepping past Alyx without touching her yet still retaining the intensity in his walk. When he was fully in the room, Aukai recognized the figure as actually shorter than himself, but ever more thinner. He removed his hood and froze, his hands lingering on the shoulders of his rumpled jacket. Aukai had never seen such an expression on his dear friend Oren.

Aukai could feel his face freeze as well. He was thoroughly shocked. Oren, the calculating and clipped one, the one who remained composed, the one who was ever immaculately clean, stood before him anything but. His face, flushed. His hair, disheveled as if he had been running his hands through it. His clothes, splashed with unidentifiable stains. His eyes, etched with a tightness, lined with anxiety, shadowed with a severeness of some dark emotion that Aukai couldn't fathom.

Had he been... looking for him this whole time?

Suddenly, Oren sighed. His eyes closed, the tightness in his expression loosening, and he dragged his hand over his face. When he opened his eyes again, he was more familiar to Aukai. Cold.

"Will you live?" He asked. His tone was more scathing than Aukai was used to, and he was taken aback.

"Y-yeah. The knife didn't go deep enough to do any real harm." Aukai's eyebrows knitted together when thoughts of the man returned. He looked away.

"I... I found him down on the bottom level." The man spoke nervously from the corner. His name was Arty, or something like it. Oren turned to him, and Arty glanced everywhere but his gaze.

"He was covered in blood... but carrying a hoverboard. So I knew that he must've been a racer. It was too risky to go back and look for any bodi- anyone else. I'm supposed to give him pills every four hours." He awkwardly picked up the pill bottle to show. He put it back down.

"I bet it was that fucking Upper." Alyx swore. Bitterness warped her voice.

"The news doesn't confirm who the caller was, but it was certainly him." Oren replied, his lip curling in distaste.

"Wait, wait, there was an Upper at the race? Since when?" Aukai exclaimed. The two turned to him. His head swam with this revelation, tinged with awe. He wondered what the Upper was like.

"That Upper is the reason you got stabbed. Almost died. Could have died." Alyx snapped.

"You didn't answer your intercom," Oren said. His voice was void of emotion. This was somehow worse than outward ridicule. Aukai swallowed, and then his words registered.

He reached up and fingered the chip at his neck. There was a small notch in its side. When he pressed for it to boot up, it showed him a feed of causalities received on the hoverboard from twenty four hours ago. It declared that it was offline.

"It... It must've broken." He said rather lamely.

"Must've." Oren replied. Aukai flinched.

He had already turned back to Alyx. "I'll compensate for you keeping him here. It would be too conspicuous to move him now. I trust that the doctor will be back later?"

"Yeah, eventually."

Oren nodded curtly. He moved as if to leave as swiftly as he had entered, but he paused, turning his head back to Aukai. His gaze lingered on his bulging bandage, and Aukai had the strange urge to cover it. Oren's eyes flicked to his face for a brief moment, and Aukai thought that he saw something stir within them, but then he turned back to the door and he felt that he had just imagined it. Oren murmered something to Alyx, and then he left.

Aukai felt hollow. He absently scratched around the bandage. Alyx promptly told him not to. His hand fell to his side, and he found himself staring at his palm. There was still blood under his fingernails.

"What an ass," Alyx said.