It wrapped everything in distance, like his body had been packed in insulation. The heat stayed down — but so did everything else. His reactions. His balance. His sense of being inside himself.
He took it anyway. Better numb than burning. That was the rule tonight. Temporary rule. Emergency rule.
The street was quiet in the way that wasn’t peaceful. Shops shuttered. Metal grilles pulled down like eyelids. Orange streetlights buzzed overhead, tired insects refusing to die.
Kam walked slower than usual. His body felt wrong. Heavy in the wrong places. Light where it shouldn’t be. Like his veins were full of wet concrete. The coolant sat cold in his chest, doing exactly what it was designed to do — suppressing, flooding, damping the engine.
Taylor walked half a step ahead, red puffer zipped high, hands out, posture alert. Performing confidence because someone had to. Leo trailed behind, hood up, pretending not to be nervous and failing visibly.
Three figures stepped out from an alley.
Not monsters. Not shadows. Just older boys in tracksuits. Faces half-covered. Real. Too real.
Kam stopped instantly. His brain shouted MOVE. His body didn’t receive the signal.
The tall one stepped forward, chin lifted, comfortable in the way people get when they’ve done this before and already spent the money.
“Phones. Wallets. Run it.”
Taylor raised his hands. Calm. Too calm. The kind of calm you use when you’re buying time you don’t have.
“We’re not on that tonight,” Taylor said. “Just walking.”
The tall one laughed once, humourless. “Did I ask, fam?”
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His eyes slid past Taylor and locked onto Kam.
Kam was shivering. Staring at the pavement. Looking exactly like what he felt — offline.
“Big man,” the tall one said. “Don’t be shy. Empty the pockets.”
Kam tried to clench his fist. Nothing. His fingers felt thick, unresponsive, like they belonged to someone else.
“Move,” Kam muttered.
No heat answered. No pressure. No backup system. Just numbness.
Taylor shifted sideways, placing himself between Kam and the others. Subtle. Or maybe deliberately not subtle.
“He’s not well, yeah?” Taylor said. “Leave it.”
The tall one grinned. “He’s trembling.”
A knife flashed briefly in his hand. Small. Ugly. Real.
“Check him.”
The other two stepped forward.
“Kam,” Taylor said. “Run.”
“I…”
Taylor didn’t wait.
He lunged.
It wasn’t clean. Not clever. Not skilled. It was desperate — a full-body shove meant to create space with nothing but momentum.
“GO!”
Kam took one step. Stumbled. His balance was gone. The gyro was broken. He dropped to one knee on the cold pavement. He looked up just in time to see the knife handle swing.
It struck Taylor’s head with a dull, heavy impact.
The fight ended immediately. It wasn’t a fight. It was a transaction.
Taylor curled on the ground, clutching his face. Blood darkened the red fabric of his jacket, turning it a deeper shade.
Kam stood four feet away, shaking. Still. Useless.
“Get off,” Kam forced out.
The tall one straightened, holding Taylor’s phone and wallet. He looked at Kam with something close to pity.
“You’re lucky your boy’s stupid,” he said. “If he hadn’t jumped in, we’d have rinsed you too.”
He patted Kam’s shoulder. Light. Casual. Humiliating.
“Go home, yeah? Sleep it off.”
They jogged away, laughing.
Silence rushed back in too fast.
Kam collapsed to his knees. He didn’t crawl — he dragged himself to the red puffer jacket. He reached for Taylor. His hands were ice cold.
“Status,” Kam said.
Taylor rolled onto his side, groaning. His nose was already swelling, the shape wrong. He spat blood onto the pavement.
“Damn… the lag is crazy,” Taylor said, half-laughing, half-wincing.
“It didn’t fire,” Kam said.
He looked at his hands. Tried to pull the trigger. Nothing. The safety was welded shut.
“Latency,” Taylor said. “Told you.” He tried to sit up and failed. “Did you flare?”
“No.”
“Good.” Taylor squinted up at him with one good eye. “If you had, I’d be in the burn unit instead of needing frozen peas.”
Kam stared at his hands. Pale. Cold. Disconnected.
Footsteps sounded behind them.
One of the attackers had stopped. The third one. He stepped back into the orange light and pulled his scarf down just enough.
Marcus.
Kam stared from his knees. Marcus looked down with satisfaction. Not surprise.
“I knew it,” Marcus said.
Kam swallowed. “Marcus.”
“In the canteen, I thought maybe you were holding back. Acting humble.” Marcus shook his head. “But you ain’t humble. You’re just soft.”
He leaned closer.
“You’re lucky my brother stepped in.”
He turned and jogged away, calling back over his shoulder:
“Big man.”
A joke.
The street went quiet again. The humiliation settled deeper than the pain. Kam checked Taylor’s eye. The pupil response was slow.
“He saw,” Kam said.
“Let him see,” Taylor replied, spitting blood again.
“He’s coming back.”
“Yeah. He is.” Taylor grabbed Kam’s wrist. His grip was weak, but his eyes were sharp. “And next time? You can’t be on the juice.”
Kam nodded once.
The coolant kept him safe.
The coolant cost him everything.
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