While I was incredibly tempted to hightail it straight to the black market immediately after work that day, I didn’t. I was learning! All that deep thinking about actions and consequences was seeping through my thick skull.

  Or seeping in? Not sure. It was doing something.

  So, instead of diving into danger, I took a few days to prep.

  The first thing on my list was a visit to one of the clothing stores in the outer district. My normal outfit was fine for my daily commute, but if I wanted to gain entry to the middle districts without getting shot, I’d need to look a bit more put together.

  Before I set foot in the shop, though, I did some alteration to my eye settings. My regular glowy red light show was perfect for the day-to-day. It looked kind of menacing, which meant a ton of slum dwellers left me alone on principle.

  In the middle districts’ black market, though? The eyes would be way too memorable. I might as well paint a neon target on my back.

  Thankfully, it didn't take me long to switch over to a soft, baby blue color. Not only did it go kinda well with my hair, but it also looked startlingly natural. I even figured out how to cut off the ‘glow’ feature. With the lack of any manufacturer marking on the sclera, I could pass for someone with their natural eyes still in their skull, if no one looked too closely at me.

  For the clothes, I decided to go with the time-honored tradition of edgy nutcases and edgerunners the galaxy over and dressed myself in all black. A black t-shirt, black baggy pants, a new pair of black trainers, and a stylish cargo-style black jacket with a very large and roomy hood. Simple, and functional.

  The jacket in particular was an amazing find, mostly for all its pockets. While I’d leave most of them empty on the black market trip, in anticipation of pickpockets, it was still a ton of space for gear and other knickknacks in the future.

  Best of all, black would be excellent for hiding bloodstains. True, I’d most likely only be hiding stains from my own blood, but… it counted, dammit.

  Done with that little excursion, the next item on my agenda for the following few days actually linked back to the Kittens. It wasn’t difficult at all to get Garren to sign off on some shooting lessons. Turned out that was a pretty basic benefit of joining the gang to begin with.

  I would have liked it better if I could have avoided the butt-kicking that Mela continued delivering to me on the regular, but some sacrifices simply had to be made.

  After three whole days of prep, though, I couldn’t hold myself back anymore. My backpack was filled with all the necessary supplies and ready to go. I was a tiny bit more certain that I could put bullets into my enemies instead of myself. My new black clothes were in a separate bag I’d brought along so I could change into them after work.

  Obviously, Catill noticed. Not all the material prep work I’d done, but the fact that I was fidgeting all day and could barely sit still? Yeah, I couldn’t exactly hide that.

  “So, ya’ll be goin’ out der ta get yaself killed today, eh?” he demanded once our work day was through, his accent slipping all the way to that inhuman edge like it always did when he was agitated. “Fool. Idiot!”

  Then he hissed and shook his head. “Wait ‘ere.”

  He plodded off into the back of the shop. Then, seconds later, I heard him start talking in a hushed voice. I scooted to the side a little, just enough to give me a better view of the hallway, and caught sight of him actually using a scroll.

  That was about as far from his regular behavior as possible, enough so that it actually killed my curiosity and looped back into an odd sort of anxiety. I wasn’t close enough to hear any distinct words. All I could do was stand there nervously and wait.

  When Catill finally emerged, he didn’t look happy at all. He thrust some kind of bracelet at me, his hand thumping into my chest with enough force to make me stumble and gasp.

  “Take ‘iz, an’ go. Ya’ll ‘ave a guide waitin’ far ya, idiot boy.”

  With those parting words, he turned away from me sharply and busied himself with the stuff laid out on the shelf closest to him.

  “Thanks,” I whispered, just loud enough for him to hear me while still having an excuse to pretend he didn’t. Then I beat a hasty retreat.

  My heart was racing a million light-years a minute for some reason, and the simplistic bracelet felt like it weighed a ton. I still put it on when I ducked into a nearby deserted alley to change.

  When I emerged, I felt like a whole new man. I wasn’t, obviously, but the clothes were high quality and more comfortable than anything I’d worn for a very long time. They gave me a swell of confidence I didn’t expect.

  At the same time, I also felt like more of a fraud than ever.

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  The clothes felt too new. Too stiff. Too… I don’t know, not worn-out enough to lie properly on my bony frame.

  That didn’t stop me from heading straight towards the checkpoint I knew would let me into the middle districts.

  The walk gave me time to finish prepping. Not physically, but to put on a show for the people I’d be meeting along the way. I tried to insert a little more boldness into my steps, the self-assured sway of someone who’d never known starvation or daily threats to his life and wellbeing.

  It was a very pretty lie, and I clung to it with everything I had as the checkpoint came into sight.

  In a way, it was similar to what you’d find between the outer district and the slums: a tunnel full of scanners and a bunch of tech that would blast me into little itty bitty pieces if I so much as sneezed wrong while passing through.

  The differences were just as marked, though.

  The entire wall was way better maintained. Everything was sparkly clean. Several guards stood along the sides of the passage, ready to descend on any cars or on-foot pedestrians trying to get through to the middle districts. The guards were all fully equipped with scanners, ID readers, and a ton of passion for protecting their corporate overlords.

  Can’t let gutter rats sneak in, right? That would be a tragedy! Some corpo might smell them, and then where would we all be?

  I resisted the urge to snark out loud as a pair of guards stepped up to me. Their postures were rigid and aggressive, probably on account of my small frame. Not a ton of people living in the middle district could afford gene mods to guarantee flawless appearance, but at least they could afford to eat decent food, so I definitely looked suspicious approaching the checkpoint.

  “ID yourself, now,” one of the guards demanded harshly. His full-body armor distorted his voice until it sounded uncomfortably machine-like.

  I wanted to cower away, but I forced myself to roll my eyes and speak in a lazy drawl. “Of course, of course.”

  At least I could pull up my citizenship records and then flick them the guards’ way with a thought. The realization that I actually had some cybernetics instantly put them more at ease.

  Though I knew my papers checked out, they still asked for a scan and the purpose of my visit to the outer districts. I just mumbled something Jason might have said. Finally, when they found no proof that I was lying my ass off in an attempt to invade their precious districts, I was waved through.

  My snark stayed strong until I actually stepped foot beyond the towering wall.

  Then the splendor on the other side caught me entirely by surprise.

  Everything was clean. Everything was… peaceful. Serene, even. While people still looked over their shoulders in the outer district, people here strolled around without a care in the world. And why not? I could see at least three Peacekeeper model humanoid clankers from where I stood.

  On top of that, the very atmosphere of the streets was just… different.

  Gone was the ugly sameness of the outer district and slums. Towering megabuildings still snatched at the sky here, yes, but no two looked like. One twisted like a spire in scattered waves. Another seemed to be made entirely of glass, reflecting the world like a pile of broken kaleidoscopes. Down the street was one that looked like a monument to some stark yet beautiful design philosophy, reminding me of the Terran cathedrals I’d seen in history books.

  I wasn’t even in the inner districts, yet I was in a whole new world already.

  I only remembered to keep moving when people started shooting me odd looks. Then I sent a request to my navigation app and let it take over. That day, I was in the mood for large glowing footsteps that marked out my route. The distraction was necessary. I could busy myself with trying to step in those instead of looking around.

  Because looking around hurt. I was surrounded by images of where I could have ended up living, if my male genetic donor wasn’t an utter asshole.

  If I kept looking around, I’d just get angrier and more resentful with every step. I didn’t need to do that myself right before engaging in negotiations at a black market. Instead, I kept my head down and focused on following the route laid out by my navigation app.

  Which meant I was paying no attention to my surroundings at all. Like the idiot boy Catill kept saying I was.

  When I was suddenly pulled into an alley just a minute or two away from my destination, I only managed to yelp before a hand closed around my mouth.

  Mela would absolutely kill me if she ever heard about it. I gave no well-executed counterattack. I didn’t dig my fingers into the guy’s knee or groin or something so I could make my distance and try to put up a fight.

  I just sort of… flailed.

  “Fuck, man, stop fucking doing that,” a voice hissed in my ear, clearly upset. “You’re going to draw the attention of the Peacekeepers, and then what?!”

  Did this asshole just complain about me trying to save myself? Why, I’m gonna —

  My thoughts cut out when her hand let go of the back of my jacket and gripped my wrist instead. The wrist which had the bracelet on it.

  “You are the guy I’m waiting for, right? That fucker Catill didn’t screw me over or something?” the very female voice hissed at me again, and I finally went still.

  When I stayed that way for several seconds, she let go and stepped away from me.

  So, naturally, I chose that moment to let loose.

  “Who the fuck are you? Do you know that I nearly had a heart attack because of you?!”

  “Me?! I’m the poor bitch who has to put up with Catill’s crap! He doesn’t fucking call in decades, and then he sticks me with an escort quest? What am I? His fucking joytoy?”

  We eyed each other for a few tense seconds.

  I was the one who gave in and looked away first. It was me who was trying to get his hands on black market goods, after all.

  “Listen, I have no clue what’s happening here. I bothered Catill for a black market location, and then when I told him I was going to come here, he just threw that bracelet at me and told me to go. That’s literally it.”

  The woman’s wary eyes, so dark brown they were almost black, searched my face another few seconds. Then her shoulders slumped. “You’re not fucking with me. That asshole actually did that. FUCK! Please, fucking tell me you don’t owe him a favor for this, because trust me. You’re going to regret it.”

  “I… don’t think so? Maybe?” I flinched, admitting to myself that I most definitely did. “Let’s assume I owe him enough that this doesn’t particularly complicate my life further.”

  “Oh, you poor bastard. I really hope you can even the odds between you somehow, because… Ugh, doesn’t matter. Okay, okay, let’s take this from the top, I guess. What are you even here for, kid?”

  Great. Another person eager to stick me with that nickname. I scowled, both because I really wished I wasn’t so stupidly immature-looking and because Catill had apparently not seen fit to share anything with the woman in front of me.

  “He didn’t even tell you that?”

  “What do you think?”

  I just sighed, desperately hoping my own relationship with Catill wouldn’t someday land me in a similar situation.