Location: Fenwick District — The Golden Jackal — Moving Through the City — Night
Emilio's hands trembled on the steering wheel.
The meat truck rumbled through the streets of Fenwick, its engine a low growl that vibrated through the frame and up into the bones of its passengers. The headlights cut through the darkness, illuminating patches of cracked asphalt and abandoned storefronts. The smell of blood and rust clung to the interior, a constant reminder of the truck's previous purpose. The steering wheel was worn smooth, its surface slick with years of sweat and grime.
Emilio sat in the driver's seat.
His face was pale. His eyes were wide. His breath came in short, ragged gasps. He looked like a man who had been dragged into a nightmare and was still hoping to wake up. Sweat beaded on his forehead, tracing slow paths down his temples. His fingers drummed against the wheel—a nervous rhythm that had been going for the past ten minutes.
Beside him, Lucian sat in the passenger seat.
His mask was still on—the butterfly mask, silver filigree, blue enamel. His arms were crossed. His posture was relaxed, but his eyes were sharp. He wore the stained apron of a meat worker, its surface marked with dark patches that might have been blood. The rings on his arm were hidden beneath the fabric, but their weight was a constant presence. He shifted slightly, the leather of the seat creaking beneath him.
In the back, Tyla sat on a crate.
Her dress was dark, practical, unremarkable. A cap was pulled low over her eyes. Her hands rested on her knees. Her posture was relaxed, but her eyes were fixed on the road ahead. Her fingers traced idle patterns on the crate, a nervous habit she couldn't quite shake. The hum of the engine filled the space, a low drone that seemed to press against the walls of the truck.
"Seriously," Tyla said.
Her voice was flat.
"Of all the rides I've driven for others in cliental tasks—"
"—Elijah's has been the most thrilling."
Lucian's eyebrow rose.
"Yeah."
"Not that I'm complaining or anything."
"But wasn't he supposed to be paying us Vaulcoins worth three million each?"
"What happened to that fact?"
"Stop the mourning."
"You acquired a Vein frame."
"Probably worth more than a couple of change."
"Yeah."
"Speak for the guy that has all of us in his leashes."
"Even what we get from him—"
"—since we are at his commanding mercy—"
"—what we gain or acquire is still practically his."
"Because they are used in his goals."
Tyla's lips pressed together.
"You're not wrong."
"But it doesn't make it any less annoying."
---
Emilio glanced at Lucian.
His voice was pleading, almost desperate. His eyes darted from the road to Lucian's masked face and back again. His throat moved as he swallowed hard.
"Come on, guys."
"Do me a solid."
"Stop this madness."
"If it's money you guys are after—"
"—based on what I'm seeing your capabilities—"
"—you could rob some suckers joint."
"Or even people."
"If you want."
"Don't just lose your lives away."
"Especially to the hands of those guys at the Aetherium Foundry."
"I'm telling you—"
"—some of them probably aren't even human."
"The thing I saw one time—"
"—I saw this chick."
"Her skin was glowing."
"She was probably some alien in clothing."
"And those Jerkins with military—"
"—are hiding them in the Foundry itself."
"I know a good place."
"I can take you there."
"Where you would get a really big time score."
"To set you up for life."
Lucian's expression didn't change.
"You really might be ignorant to understanding the difference between negotiating and a hostage situation."
"If you did—"
"—you wouldn't be spitting all that nonsense."
His voice was flat, cold, cutting through Emilio's rambling like a blade.
---
Tyla's voice was calm, cutting through the tension.
"We really should not be wasting all the time with senseless bickering."
"We need to get our priorities straight on what is important."
Lucian turned to Emilio, his eyes cold behind the mask.
"You better zip it."
"And hit the road."
"Or you would really get some of this."
"And trust me—"
"—he really doesn't need that."
Emilio's throat moved.
His hands tightened on the steering wheel. His knuckles were white. The leather creaked beneath his grip.
"I—"
"I—"
"I—"
He pressed the accelerator.
The truck lurched forward.
---
The truck rumbled through the streets.
Emilio's face was pale. His eyes were fixed on the road ahead. His hands were shaking on the steering wheel. The headlights cut through the darkness, revealing the cracked asphalt and the faded lines of the road. Streetlights flickered overhead, casting pools of orange light that the truck passed through in rhythm.
One of the hanging pigs swung backward, its cold flesh slapping against his face.
Emilio flinched.
His internal thoughts churned.
Damn you, Diego, he thought.
Damn you to the worst ends.
I hope you suffer.
I hope you die.
I hope you—
The truck lurched again.
---
In the back of the truck, Roman leaned against the wall.
His voice was quiet, almost nostalgic. His eyes were distant, lost in memory.
"This reminds me of those old days."
"Back at the border."
"When it was all immigrants in a truck."
"Trying to enter."
"Illegally."
"Yeah," Alma said.
"I miss those times."
"But of late—"
"—with the new governmental administration—"
"—they've given extra measures to curb all that immigration from happening."
"Making things hard for our people."
Mateo sighed.
"Yeah."
"Yeah."
---
The truck passed through the heart of Fenwick.
The streets were alive with light and noise. Clubs spilled their music onto the sidewalks, their bass vibrating through the pavement. Groups of young people moved between bars, their laughter sharp and brittle. Street vendors sold cheap food from carts, their faces illuminated by the glow of portable lamps.
Tyla's hand rested on her chin.
Her eyes were half-lidded.
"Bored," she said.
"Very bored."
---
VII
Caleb drove through the streets.
His hands were tight on the steering wheel. His eyes were fixed on the road ahead. His jaw was tight, his lips pressed together in a thin line. The Dodge Charger rumbled beneath him, its engine a low growl that matched the tension in his chest.
"Where are we going?" he asked.
"Just drive," Marcus said.
His voice was soft, almost amused.
"I'll tell you when to stop."
Caleb's jaw tightened.
"This better be worth it."
"It will be."
"You sound so sure."
"I am sure."
Marcus's eyes were fixed on a point in the distance.
"There's something ahead."
"Something interesting."
"What?"
"I don't know yet."
"But I want to find out."
---