Owen felt the coldness of the city transit’s wall as Vicky shoved him against it. Where did that come from? She hadn’t said a word since they met at the station. But like a slumbering volcano, Vicky’s fury finally burst to the surface.

  “Go fuck yourself!” she shouted. She slapped the wall beside his head while Ben pretended not to see them. “You told Tom we fucked. What the fuck is wrong with you, you fucking asshole!” He thought a punch might come next. Vicky crossed her arms and scowled. “You’re a piece of shit!”

  “I didn’t mean to. They just figured it out.” Owen left out the bits about his joyous body language giving it away. “Look, I’m sorry.”

  “I bet everyone knows now.” Vicky rubbed her face. “Tom can’t keep his fucking mouth shut about anything.” She poked Owen’s chest. “Did you give him every detail? Huh? Fucking say something!”

  “I didn’t know,” Ben said sheepishly.

  “Now everyone on the transit knows,” Owen said. A few citizens looked in their direction. He pushed Vicky’s hand away. “Calm down. You’re drawing attention to us.” They were on a mission and didn’t need the attention.

  “Don’t tell me to calm down,” Vicky sneered. “You assholes want a show!” she shouted at the gawkers. “I should leave you on Ben sitting duty by yourself. You said you wouldn’t tell anyone. I look easy!”

  “DO you want me to tell them you weren’t?” Owen asked. He slipped a punch and moved away from Vicky. He held his hands up. “I’ll give you some space.”

  “There are no right answers here, Owen,” Sensei Dan said with a grin. Owen stared at City Seven passing by through the transit’s window. He glimpsed Callahan Tower through the gaps in buildings. “Only time will heal this wound.”

  “I know.” Owen wished he could make it right, but he knew she wasn’t angry. Her eyes were puffy and her lower lip quivered like she was holding back tears. He thought she was so tough that nothing could hurt her. He was wrong. “I’ll try to make it up to her.”

  “How?” Ben asked.

  “Shit,” Owen said. “I forgot you were there.” Ben was one of those people that just drifted away in a crowd. He looked about ten years younger than he really was and stared at the floor more than anywhere else. A thick pair of glasses perched on his nose and he had a blue sweatshirt with the hood over his shaved head. He was so skinny a nice breeze might snatch him away.

  “You talk to yourself? I do that too sometimes. It helps me work my way through a problem and my life has had its fair share of problems. No woman problems, you need a woman for that, but some problems. I used to work for the city and they were always giving me more and more work to take on and I did everything they asked.”

  “Right,” Owen said when Ben stopped for air.

  “Right indeed. You know I used to work for Maestro in an assembly plant. I put together the scratchpads. Three hundred a day on average. Had the best numbers in my team. That was before I got on a demo team. I loved that job. High clearance, blowing stuff up, and people that knew what they were doing. I like this team, but you know what I mean.”

  “I think so.” Owen looked over his shoulder. He wasn’t sure he knew what he was doing most of the time.

  Vicky stared out the transit window as towers went by in a blur. Morning light peeked through cracks in the concrete beast’s skeleton as a new day dawned on City Seven. They were a team, but for what purpose? To bring down the Callahan dynasty through some vague means?

  While Ben didn’t have women troubles, Owen sure as shit did. Vicky was pissed, but worse than that he was dating Amber Callahan. The Amber Callahan. Lead actress on Star Quest Amber Callahan. The princess of City Seven Amber Callahan. His girlfriend Amber Callahan. He couldn’t help but smile at that last part.

  Owen swallowed. He couldn’t tell a soul about Amber. The Citizen’s Liberation Brigade fought against the Callahan family’s control of City Seven. He still didn’t know how exactly they were doing that. Tuck assured him everything they were doing was in service to a grander plan, but as far as Owen could tell no one on the team had any additional info. The plan existed in Tuck’s mind alone. Like pieces on a chessboard they maneuvered to his whims without understanding why.

  “You ever been?” Owen asked Ben as he watched the low city pass by.

  “The Scrap Yard,” Ben said. “Oh yes. Basically lived there for a long time. You?”

  “It’s by the Gold Glow. My old boss used to send me there to pick up mystery bundles.” Those mystery bundles were typically boxes packed full of semi-operational electronics that wouldn’t sell anywhere else. Prime material for harvesting. “What are we after?”

  “Wire. Vicky had a lot. We need lots more. Way lots more.” Ben shrugged. “Among other things. Receivers mostly. Need components to put something together for Tuck. A lot of somethings. Tom said you’re pretty good with the small stuff, you do any tinkering? I do a lot of tinkering when I can. Brad taught me a bunch.”

  “I can’t say I do.”

  His days off were spent deepening his Hardknuckle skills and sending messages to Amber. They’d only been dating for a month, but Owen was having real fun with her. It wasn’t like with Mandy who occasionally sent him a funny picture or told him about her day or her marital problems. With Amber it was intimate. A word he had no understanding of before she kissed him that evening.

  Amber spent most days preparing to film new episodes of Star Quest, but they shared the occasional work lunch together and stole looks at each other from across the gym. Rarely they’d get a moment alone together to share a kiss. He wanted more from her. He wanted to give her more, but he felt like a man pulled in two different directions.

  In one direction was the freedom fighter sworn to free City Seven from the Callahans’ iron grip. In the other was a man making his way in a world via his martial skill with Amber at his side. He had two purposes diametrically opposed to each other. If he wasn’t careful they’d rip him in half.

  “Do you tinker?” Ben asked again.

  “I don’t have time for tinkering anymore,” Owen said. His hands were for less delicate tasks nowadays. He made a fist and his knuckles cracked. He had small aches and pains across his body that never went away. Sensei Dan called it a warrior’s toll.

  “You’ll get rusty. Your fingers will forget how to handle those delicate parts.”

  Owen nodded. Ben seemed to have a passion for the subject, but to Owen it was just a job. Learning how to repair scratchpads meant nothing more than food in his belly and a rent check. He’d be happy if he didn’t need to repair another scratchpad. His bank account was full of credits from Wilson’s Warzone and the Citizen’s Brigade. He trained and when Tuck called he went on a mission. It was only by looking back he could see how bad life was before. For the first time in his life, life was genuinely good.

  The group left the transit behind and walked to the Scrap Yard. A giant sign hung over the entrance featuring a clown covered in grease. Lights blinked around an electric fence topped with razor wire while cameras tracked citizens going in and out of the Scrap Yard.

  If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

  “Ten credits each,” the obese woman in the check-in booth said. Her hair was lime green and she had on bright red lipstick that reminded Owen of RED RIPE APPLE ads. “Put your hand in the slot.” She stamped Owen’s hand with a smiling clown face. “Good luck.” She slapped a button to disengage the fence’s lock.

  “She’s a charmer,” Vicky said. “What do you think?” She showed off her smeared stamp.  “This is my six hundredth stamp,” Ben said. “She’s worked here for three years. She replaced Tina. Tina got stabbed by someone who couldn’t pay the ten credit entrance fee so they put up the booth to protect her.”

  “Did Tina die?” Vicky asked.

  “Oh yes,” Ben nodded vigorously. “She stumbled out on the road there holding her neck and the ambulance ran her right over. I saw the whole thing. Couldn’t eat pizza for two months. You know we grow our tomatoes right outside the city. I knew a guy with a farm permit and he says there are agricultural fields further than you can see.”

  “Who are we meeting?” Owen asked. He didn’t care about tomatoes.

  The Scrap Yard was just how he remembered. Stacks of cars created alleyways where scavengers yanked out parts. It was the graveyard in Luther’s shop times a thousand. A citizen could get lost for days amongst the stacks of discarded cars and tech dumped in City Seven’s biggest waste pit. At least it didn’t stink. All landfills were outside of the city.

  “Tuck paid a local crew to gather up what we need,” Vicky said. “Outsourcing, you know. Besides, you won’t find Tom or Ed digging through the trash heap.”

  “This isn’t a trash heap,” Ben said. “This is a land of treasure. You could build thousands of new cars out of the parts here alone. Not to mention scratchpads and screens. For just ten credits you can build anything you want if you know what you’re looking for. Back me up, Owen.”

  “I don’t think most people know how to do that,” Owen said. He couldn’t build a scratchpad from nothing.

  “He sounds like Brad.” Vicky laughed and stuck her hands in her jacket pockets. “He used to build all kinds of toys out of stuff he pulled out of the garbage. He had this busted ad screen that he found. He fixed it up and turned it into an entertainment screen. It lasted about two weeks before it burned out.”

  “We could find you a nice screen, Owen.” Ben stopped to look in a car missing its rims. “Speakers are gone, damn. You can make a nice sound system out of car speakers. We used to have one set up when we’d demo a tower. Made it a lot more fun.”

  “Focus, Ben,” Vicky said. “You know where we’re going right?”

  “Yep. Somewhere where there’s no one to interrupt us.” Ben sniffed. “Do you smell corndogs?” He pushed his glasses up his nose and ran toward the smell. “Come on!”

  “He’s energetic,” Sensei Dan said. He crossed his arms and scoffed. “Acts more like a kid than a man.”

  “Ben’s been alone since he was a kid,” Vicky said. Owen glanced at Sensei Dan, then back to Vicky. For a second Owen thought she heard him. “His parents got killed when he was real little and he spent a lot of time in the care facility.”

  “So did I.” Owen couldn’t help but notice the similarities between him and Ben. No parents, good with tech, working for the Citizen’s Brigade, and they owed Tuck their lives. “Wonder if it was as bad for him as it was for me.”

  “Brad always treated him like a little brother.”

  “What about you?” Owen asked

  “He’s okay.” Vicky smiled. “We’re not friends or anything but Brad liked him.”

  “What about us? Are we?”

  “Friends?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m still pissed about you opening your mouth,” Vicky said as she nudged him with her elbow. “I’ll get over it.” She followed Ben into an area of the Scrap Yard covered in tables and colorful umbrellas. A sign in blinking neon called this area the slab. “You trust any of the food here?”

  “As much as I trust anything else.” Owen saw Ben standing in line at one of the dozen booths selling instant food to the Scrap Yard customers. “Hey, do you know what we’re picking up? Ben said it was wire and stuff. Why don’t we just buy it at a tech shop?”

  “Tuck doesn’t want a credit trail. Follow me.” She pulled Owen toward a colorful cube on the outskirts of the meal yard. “I haven’t seen one of these since I was fifteen.” She opened the door on the cube and pulled Owen inside. It was dim inside, with a single large screen advertising pictures. “Sit down.” Vicky pulled her scratchpad. Beep. It accepted her payment. “Smile.” Vicky pulled Owen close and a camera flashed at them. “Frown.” Owen didn’t have time. The camera snapped his confusion. Moments later four small pictures printed and Vicky tore them free, but she didn’t move.

  “You okay?”

  “Sometimes life is normal again. Like right now I can pretend that we aren’t here to pick up something for a mission. I can just take a silly picture with a friend. It’s not real, but I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about what you said.”

  “What’s that?” Owen asked.

  “About whether or not this is still the right thing. I want it to be. I really do. I wonder what it’ll be like if we do beat the Callahans. What does that world look like? Is Tuck in control or does Yamada swoop in and take over? Can we really beat them? We’ve got a handful of weirdos versus a dynasty that controls every enforcement arm in the city. If they want they can plaster our faces on every screen not in New Asia.”

  “We just need to look out for each other,” Owen said. “I’ll watch your back and you’ll watch mine. We’ll make it through this together.”

  “Promise.” She looked him in the eyes.

  “Promise,” Owen said. Vicky ripped the picture reel in half and gave it to Owen. “What’s this?”

  “So we remember. We don’t ever betray each other. Okay?” She grabbed Owen’s hand and squeezed it tight. “Whatever else happens to the group, we’re on the same side.” She flashed Owen a quick smile. “Now get out, your breath is stinking this booth up.”

  “Right,” Owen said. He slid out of the booth as Ben approached with a half eaten corn dog. “Is it good?”

  “What were you two doing in there?” Ben asked. His eyes went wide and he almost dropped his battered treat. “Were you having sex?”

  “Yeah,” Vicky said as she hopped out. “We took a picture, want to see?”

  “No!” Ben shouted. A few scavengers looked in their direction. “That’s gross.”

  “I’m joking.” Vicky shook her head. “Follow me, boys. Our contact should be waiting for us near the pit.”

  The pit may have started out as a hole during the Scrap Yard’s inception, but in the intervening years it grew into a mountain of garbage only useful for smelting. Cranes with large claws grabbed masses of the trash like scooping mashed potatoes off a plate. They deposited the scraps into trucks where they’d be turned into products for consumption. The cogs kept spinning and the wheel turned.

  Stilt structures were arranged around the pit where scavengers could take a break in the shade and enjoy a refreshing soda from one of a dozen EVOLVE vending machines. A lone man in a faded red vest and cargo shorts sat in the corner of one of these stilt shelters, three duffel bags on the bench beside him.

  “You Hacksaw?” Vicky asked him. She kept her hands in her pockets.

  “You’re not Owen,” Hacksaw said. He reached into one of his multiple pockets. “Your boss said I’m dealing with an Owen.”

  “That’s me,” Owen said. Though he didn’t know why Hacksaw needed to deal with him. Vicky was in charge of the mission. Wasn’t she?

  “Good.” Hacksaw threw one of the bags on a picnic table. “I got everything your boss asked me for. Radio transmitters. A couple miles of wire. All kinds of gadgets and doodads for your everyday needs.” He smiled, a foul stench wafting off blackened teeth. He was an ice addict. “Took me about a week to get everything. Check it out. You got my credits.” Owen noticed a familiar skull tattoo on the man’s neck, though he couldn’t place it.

  “We do,” Vicky said. Ben looked through the bags while Vicky prepared the personal transfer. “Everything there.”

  “What do they need all this for, Owen,” Sensei Dan asked. He walked around the picnic table tapping his chin while Ben looked through the bags. “Can’t be anything good.”

  “Yep,” Ben said. “I think this is everything.”

  “It’ll be fine,” Owen whispered.

  “Thanks.” Vicky authorized the transfer and touched her scratchpad to Hacksaw’s older model.

  “Good doing business with you, pretty lady. You want to grab a corndog with me?”

  “Fuck off!” Vicky shouted and the addict scurried away like a cockroach. “Fucking icehead. Get the bags, Ben.”

  “Why do I have to carry them?”

  “Because I said so.” Vicky smirked as Ben loaded up.

  “That was simple,” Owen said.

  “Not everything needs to be complicated.” Vicky led the way toward the Scrap Yard exit. “Ah fuck.” She stopped dead in her tracks. A sweaty Hacksaw was blocking their path with a dozen men in red vest and skulls tattooed on their faces. He looked like he sprinted to cut them off.

  “Red Demons,” Owen said. He smiled when he saw Daddy Spider standing with the group, his crimson mohawk standing taller than Owen remembered.