Aurablade

15

The people in the crowd writhe together. They step in and out of my path. I push my way through them, glancing over my shoulder. Guards in uniform disperse through the people like sharks.

Rivya disappears. To my side, there's an alley. I swim my way toward it, but people keep stepping into my path.

A shot rings through the air. "Everyone, stand down!" a voice declares.

The commotion halts. As a whole, heads turn toward Gang One's broadcasting center. I use the distraction to dart through the crowd.

A roar erupts. People stampede toward Gang One. I duck into an alley out of the way of the angry faces streaming through the streets. My footsteps patter on the ground. The crowd becomes a wash of noise behind me. My heart thuds in my chest, pumping adrenaline through my limbs, forcing my legs to keep going.

Something whizzes by my face. I glance over my shoulder. Five guards are tearing through the alley behind me. Flurries of bullets stream at my back. My cloak deflects most, but some bury in my legs, sending shots of pain in my calves.

A fence looms before me. I glance to the sides, where trash cans lie, some upright, others tipped over. I speed up, then leap a top one, propelling myself over the fence.

Landing in a crouch, I spring to my feet and keep running. My lungs burn, but I keep pushing. Several thuds crash behind me. Anything I cross paths with, boards, trash cans, old furniture, I knock into their path.

Another fence looms in the distance. I vault myself over it. Air whooshes under me as the world flashes by. Then I land, coming face-to-face with someone I haven't seen in two years.

Stellae.

Her once soft features are hardened in a scowl. She pulls a gun out from her belt, pointing it at my chest.

"Stellae," I breathe.

She fires. The green pellet flies through the air. I turn just in time, flinging my cloak in front of me so the pellet pings off it. Footsteps bare down on me from behind the fence. I fire at the masses of people leaping over the fence. One by one, they drop. Stellae aims again at me, and I dodge.

Stellae advances toward me. I shoot at her feet, but despite the holes riddling her legs, burning holes into her leather pants, she doesn't waver, continues advancing. I dart toward her, grabbing her fragile arm and twisting it behind her. She fights back, sending her knee into my stomach. I groan, dropping my own gun. I wrench her arm, and she drops her weapon.

Both disarmed, we circle each other. Menace drips from her slightly parted jaws. Then, Stellae lunges at me. I punch her in the face, yet she barely registers the hit. Her knuckles connect with my jaw, then my chest. The wind knocks from my lungs.

Stellae grabs me by the middle and flings me toward the ground. I latch onto her leg, bringing her down with me. We both crash down, punching and kicking amongst the soiled ground.

I have to get her to snap out of this. It's the only thought circulating through my mind. But how? How can she go back to the soft, sweet sister I had before?

She won't. We will never be the same. I am not the same Sol, and she is a different Stellae.

Her fist connects with my eyes. I blink rapidly. Tears blurring my vision, I see her reaching for a gun just centimeters from her grasp. I kick my foot out, knocking her hand away. My arms wrap around her waist, and I yank her to sitting. She twists, so I kick her again, then send a blow to her side. She topples over, face planted in the dirt. Raising my dagger, I bring the hilt down on the back of her neck.

She falls still. I pant, panic rising in my system. I reach for her wrist. No beat emanates from her veins. I gulp. A single line enters my head, something I read among the files stolen from the CryoFuture's secret lab.

Cyborgs can't be thrown into the underworld, can't be knocked unconscious. Their cybernetic implants don't allow for it. There are only three choices for them: life, sleep-mode, or death.

My lip trembles. Tears well in my eyes. All I've wanted is to be close with my sister again. That's why I became an assassin. How ironic that my occupation should drive me to kill her.

I guess that's all I will ever be — an assassin. A killer.

I lean against the fence. My body throbs. My heart aches for what I have just done. It was me or her, me or her, me or...

She was a threat to this city. No, she was designed to be a threat to the city — by Argon.

This is all because of Argon. And he must pay.

***

The second time breaking in is easier than the first. I already have the route memorized. As numbers flicker on the apartment doors I pass by, my boots treading on the glass floor, anger simmers in my veins. Just one more job, one more kill. Except this time, the spilling blood will be for a purpose, for the greater good.

Number eighteen flickers. I stop at the door, quickly picking the lock as I did the first time. The door swings open slowly. I step inside. This time, I know my target waits inside. I won't make the same error twice.

Snoring drones in the air from the bedroom. I step inside and spot Argon passed out on the bed. How does he sleep so soundly at night?

I slip through the room until I hover over him. Then, I bring my knife to his throat, pressing it there as blood wells beneath the golden blade. His eyes fly open, and his hands go to his sides, about to sit upright. Fear flickers in his pupils. Then he blinks it away, and a small smile spreads on his face.

"Whoever you are, you'll never get away with it."

"I already took out your guards. Talc showed me how."

Argon's smile falters. He laughs bitterly. "Talc, the betrayer."

"Talc, the one who stood up against you. And if I didn't know better, so did your wife."

"You got that one wrong, street scum."

"Then why stage her kidnapping? Turn her into a mindless slave?" Argon glowers at me, and I press my knife deeper against his throat.

"I was sick of being married to a weakling. She refused to participate in politics, preferring to stay in the shadows. She might not have intentionally tried to stop me, but she certainly never helped. I needed someone I could count on to further our campaign, our purpose."

"And Talc? What's going to happen to him?"

Argon's lip curls. "He will end up like every other participant in our lab studies."

"That's all I needed to know." I drag the blade across his throat. The golden glow sinks into his flesh. Then blood pours forth onto the floor. I drop him, letting his severed neck hang over the side of the bed. Calmly, I exit the room.

The final time I kill. Now that the leader of chaos is destroyed, let the world clean up its own messes.

I'm out of this business.