Friction

Prologue-2

Reena dropped both glasses, letting them spill their contents onto the carpet. “Oh, very well,” she muttered, drawing a small, flat knife from a sheath inside the waistband of her pants. She held it with the blade pointed down, the sign of someone who knew how to use it. “Your last memories would have been blissful, but if you insist on doing it the hard way…”

Jena broke into a sprint.

She ran up the wall, then bent her knees and pushed off. She back-flipped over the other woman's head, turning upright to land on the balls of her feet.

Reena whirled around to face her, stabbing with the knife.

Jena crouched and brought a hand up to strike the other woman's wrist, flinging the knife away. She jabbed Reena hard in the nose. The impact sent her stumbling backward all the way to the wall.

Reena thrust out her free hand, two metal needles extending from the bracelet on her left wrist. A thousand hard-earned credits said that both of those were tipped with deadly poison.

She let them fly.

By instinct, Jena called on her Nassai. A bubble of warped space-time surrounded her body, a shimmering curtain through which she could see the needles hanging still in mid-air. Time would pass more quickly for her than for anyone on the outside. She had over a minute to dodge if she needed it.

Jena dropped to a crouch. The bubble popped, and she felt the needles pass right over her head, zipping across the room to sink into the wall on the other side. Of course, using her Nassai's power left her winded.

Reena dashed forward.

She leaped and flew with her arms outstretched, passing right over Jena's head. She landed on her hands, thrust her feet into the air and then flipped upright. Not a Keeper, but she sure was nimble.

In a heartbeat, Jena was on her feet and spinning around. The other woman was already facing her, a scowl twisting those once beautiful features into something feral. “I've never had the honour of killing a Justice Keeper.”

Reena kicked high, striking her across the chin with enough force to fill her vision with silver flecks. Another hit to Jena's chest sent her stumbling away. She felt the hard, cold wall against her back.

Contact with a Nassai allowed her to perceive the assassin's silhouette as she drew near. Reena stalked forward like a hungry lioness trying to run down a gazelle. She spun and back-kicked.

Jena crouched, reaching up with both hands to seize the woman's ankle. A touch of concentration was all it took to reverse gravity's pull. She flung her opponent upward.

Reena fell toward the ceiling, colliding with a thump. She dropped back down to the floor, landing hard upon the gray carpet. There were reasons why intelligent people did not challenge Keepers.

The assassin was lying on her side.

Jena kicked her in the spine, applying a Bending that changed gravity's pull. The woman went flying, tumbling like a log through the air. She crashed into the wall, then fell back to the floor.

Jena felt a flush singe her face, wincing and shaking her head. “Every time I think I've met a nice girl,” she said, pacing across the room. “There's always a catch. Papa was right when he said he wanted to approve my suitors.”

The fallen assassin was stretched out on her belly, dark hair spread out in unkempt tangles. Anguished whimpers filled the room.

Seizing a handful of the woman's hair, Jena pulled her head up to make eye contact. Reena's face was haggard, tears glistening on her cheeks.

It took a little effort to pull her to her feet and spin her around so that her back was pressed to Jena's chest. Wrapping an arm around her throat prevented her from struggling too much.

Clenching her teeth, Jena brought her lips to the assassin's ear. She hissed softly before speaking. “This is your chance to walk out of here with a heartbeat,” she said. “I suggest you take it.”

“What do you mean?”

“It's fairly simple,” Jena whispered. “Tell your masters that I remember what I saw on that ship. Tell them I have the documentation to prove it, and that if anything happens to me – anything – that documentation goes public.”

With her mouth open wide, Reena shut her eyes. She tilted her head back, groaning. “I don't know what you're talking about,” she squealed. “I have no masters. It was just a simple contract.”

“Authorized by who?”

The assassin trembled. “Wesley Pennfield.”

It was always shady down in the slums, down on the long narrow streets that made curving paths between skyscrapers so tall you could barely see the tops. Sometimes, Leo wondered who was up there.

The streets were just wide enough for three or four people to walk side by side, the tall buildings pressed so close together that they cut off the light. The only time you got any real illumination was noon. There was trash all over the place, wrappers and cans strewn across the black pavement with wild abandon. The people who lived in these tenements were beaten down. They no longer cared enough to pick up after themselves.

Leo felt his mouth tighten, staring down at the ground. “Hope you're all having a good laugh.” He looked up, squinting at the buildings. “Any of you ever wander down here, and you won't laugh much longer.”

A man of average height with a lean build, he wore a pair of ratty gray pants and a dark sweater with stains on the back. It had belonged to his cousin Rax and to some other kid before him.

The poor had hand-me-downs.

Leo frowned, turning his face up to the sky. He blinked. “You gonna make good on all your promises?” he asked of the Lord Above. “You gonna deliver us from evil? Or is that a lie too.”

No answer.

The street ended in intersection where another narrow lane ran from east to west. This one actually managed to catch a bit of late afternoon sunlight. Most streets down here ran from north to south.

He wondered if that was deliberate. There were no vehicles down in the slums, only foot traffic. Roads didn't need to be organized in anything resembling an efficient pattern. That was another form of institutional violence. Make it practically impossible for people to get around, and you created an underclass. Some members of the Social Justice League were petitioning Parliament for improvements to the local infrastructure and new housing projects that would allow the poor to transition to better living conditions. Somehow, they never got built.

He turned down a side street, suddenly assaulted by the bright yellow light of a rising sun that stood high in the western sky. He had come out early. Well, it might be better to say that he had come out late.

Leo raised a hand to shield himself, squinting into the distance. “This had better be worth it, Lars,” he said, shaking his head. “You drag me out here when the Black Boots are working up the nerve to come into this neighbourhood.”

He started forward.

Frowning to himself, Leo kept his head down and studied the ground beneath his feet. Bastard says he has a problem, he thought, eyebrows rising. Says only the crew's leader can work it out.

Tall tenements rose up on either side of him, red-bricked buildings with thin slits for windows, each one more gloomy than the last. This street was cleaner. He found no trash here. Cleaning crews were a little more willing to attend to roadways that weren't bathed in gloom, and this one stretched on for several blocks before ending at the foot of a tall building that cast a long shadow.

A quick walk down a street to his left, and another turn to his right brought him to a set of concrete steps that led down to a door that would open into a basement. Lars had set up shop here.

Leo descended.

He knocked and paused for a minute to study his silhouette in the small window. Blinds prevented him from seeing inside, but the sound of crying was audible even out here. Anger flared up. Crying meant noise and that meant attention-

The door opened inward.

A gaunt-cheeked man with tanned skin poked his head through the crack and then blinked. “Leo…” he whispered, glancing back over his shoulder. “Shut up, Gia! I told you to keep quiet!”

Leo frowned and looked up at the other man. He arched a thin, blonde eyebrow. “If there's a problem,” he began. “She was your responsibility.”

A blush put some colour in Lars's cheeks, and he bowed his head to stare down at his shoes. “Yeah, I know,” he said, nodding. “Just get in here, would you? Maybe you'll be able to talk some sense into her.”

Leo stepped inside.

He found himself in a small apartment with white floor tiles and an ugly steel pole that ran from floor to ceiling in the middle of the room. A bed was positioned up against the wall. Just a mattress on a metal frame, really.

The young woman who sat with her knees together kept her head down, refusing to show him her face. “I'm sorry…” she sobbed. “Lars, baby, I'm sorry. I know now, and I'll never do it again.”

“Do what?”

Lars winced at the question, scrunching up his face as he backed away. He clapped a hand onto the top of his head. “She kept some money back,” he muttered. “Hid it from me and Raelo.”

“Is that so?”

Gia looked up at him with tears on her inflamed face, trying to blink them away. “I needed a little extra,” she said. “For food.”

Pressing his lips together, Leo felt a surge of heat that must have painted his face crimson. “I pay you enough to eat,” he said, his eyebrows climbing. “You been spending your money on Bliss, Gia?”

“No.”

“Don't lie to me.”

Clenching her teeth, she let her head hang and sobbed, waves of long brown hair dangling into her lap. “I'm sorry,” she said, trembling. “Look, I just needed a little extra this month. That's all.”

“Oh, is that all?”

Leo started forward with his hands in his pockets, keeping his gaze fixed upon the floor. “Well, if you've learned your lesson,” he said with a shrug. “I suppose I can let you off with a stern warning.”

She looked up at him, confusion evident in her expression. No one ever got off with a stern warning. You took from the communal pot and you suffered for it. Those were the rules. “Leo…”

He back-handed her across the chin with enough force to turn her face away. Gia stiffened, groaning. “You really are stupid, aren't you?” Leo growled. “Let me clarify your role in all this. You spread your legs, you take the money and you give it to Lars here so that he can manage it.”

“I'm sorry!”

Seizing a handful of the w***e's shirt, he pulled her to her feet, then flung her down onto the floor. She landed stretched out on her belly. Placing a foot on her back drove the point home. Leo wasn't big on subtext.

His face crumpled as he shook his head. “We're all a family down here, Gia,” he said, bending over. “One of us starts hoarding and the rest of us go hungry. Is that what you want?”

“I… I… I…”

“You what?”

“I'm sorry.”

“Useless,” Leo muttered. When he turned, he found Lars standing by the wall with his arms folded, refusing to look at the sobbing woman. The guy had always been soft. So he had called Leo down here for a simple bit of discipline that he really should have handled himself. “Absolutely useless.”

“She brings in good money,” Lars said.

“I wasn't talking about her.”