In the back alleys, a child’s corpse rolls in the filth, the frenzied screams of a drug-addled gunman spraying bullets, and packs of feral dogs—grotesque, almost sculpted in their deformity—devour scattered flesh. Here, these are nothing more than mundane vignettes, barely enough to provoke a yawn.

  A barely clothed young girl clings to a man’s arm, disappearing into the neon-lit glow of a brothel. A gagged male prostitute, leashed like livestock, crawls through the streets behind a grotesquely bloated woman. This fallen city is enveloped by artificial stars and an ocean of electrons. The undercity, nestled at the base of a tower piercing the ashen sky, is a swirling maelstrom of debauchery and chaos—a modern Sodom.

  A young man, his metallic armor glinting with the city’s kaleidoscope of lights, shrugs off a prostitute clutching his cybernetic right arm. From the inner pocket of his all-concealing coat, he pulls a cigarette, lights it, and takes a drag. Thin tendrils of purple smoke curl into the air, mingling with the chaotic throng before dissipating. He crushes the ember with the tip of his mechanical fingers and tosses the butt into the street, kicking at the blood-tinged sewage pooling at his feet.

  In a place where murder is commonplace, no one bats an eye at a newborn abandoned like trash in the unsanitary alleys. Fraudulent ads slip through the information networks that pulse through the markets, but no one here is naive enough to fall for them. The undercity’s rampant injustice and sin multiply like cancer cells, normalizing a diseased state of existence.

  The young man—Danan—shoots a vagrant dead for mouthing off, the bullet piercing the man’s skull as he strides toward a cluster of abandoned buildings. He steps into one, the silence within a stark contrast to the cacophony outside, his footsteps echoing in the cavernous hall. The rooms lining the corridor are dark, unlit, with only the city’s neon and electric billboards filtering through as faint light sources in the shadowed passage.

  Climbing the stairs, Danan glances at a flickering lightbulb swarmed by flies. Beneath it lies a rotting corpse, crawling with maggots. A vagrant who wandered into a trap? A gangster seeking revenge? Danan spares the body a single look before moving on. At the fourth floor, he stops before a door, twisting the knob twice to the right, four times to the left, and pushes it inward.

  “Who’s there?” a voice calls.

  “It’s me,” Danan replies.

  “‘Me’? That’s odd. I don’t know any fool eccentric enough to go by ‘Me.’”

  “Is that so? Guess I’ll leave then. See ya.”

  The door slides open automatically, revealing a cylindrical elevator that shoots up from the floor. “Kidding, kidding! Come on, Danan, get in!” a synthetic voice laced with laughter echoes through the room.

  “…”

  “What, you mad?”

  “Not mad.”

  “Good. Then hop in already.”

  You’re the one who sounds pissed. Swallowing the retort, Danan steps into the elevator, arms crossed, his gaze settling on a tacky advertisement playing on a monitor near the ceiling.

  “What do you do when a thief breaks into your home?! Simple—blow them away! Nothing beats a big-caliber gun! Est’s Firearms!” Lies. Est’s shop was raided by thieves long ago, the owner slaughtered along with it.

  “Good news for those struggling with illegal augmentation surgeries! Limited offer: discounted procedures for viewers of this ad! NakaNaka Clinic!” A scam. No such clinic exists, and cheap surgeries are a dime a dozen in the undercity.

  “Feeling lonely… cold…? We’ve got the perfect sanctuary for you. From gender to age, our diverse offerings will warm your heart and body. Club Lust!” This one’s real. The mark of the crime syndicate Flesh Crucible is embedded in the footage, a constant reminder of their grip.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  The elevator’s low hum ceases, and the doors slide open. Danan steps out, his eyes sweeping across a room filled with sprawling monitors. His gaze shifts to a girl tapping at a keyboard. Her skin is so pale it’s almost translucent—beautiful in description, but in truth, it’s the sickly pallor of someone teetering on the edge of death from neglect. Her sharp, almond-shaped eyes flick toward Danan. Lils, as she’s called, sips a sludge-like coffee, exhales softly, and hits the enter key.

  “Another fine day, Danan. Your sour face always puts me in a great mood,” she says.

  “Picking a fight?” he retorts.

  “Oh, please. Me, picking a fight with you? It’s just a little banter for a greeting. Think about it logically.”

  “…”

  Danan brushes aside an empty ration can tossed on a chair, sits down, and crosses his arms with a faint click of his tongue.

  “So, Lils, why’d you call me? Something about the ruins?”

  “Yep.”

  “Found a new sector?”

  “Exactly. Your job this time is to scout a new ruins sector and retrieve data from the information vault. Payment’s, let’s see… ten thousand credits, plus whatever relics you find. Pretty generous, don’t you think?”

  A new sector in the ruins… maybe the elevator from Sector B to the lower levels has finally opened? Danan strokes the stubble on his chin, his eyes flicking to a monitor displaying a map. Blue marks indicate explored sectors, while a grayed-out area signals an uncharted zone.

  “How many others did you hire?” he asks.

  “Hmm… five random ruin-diggers I put a call out for, plus one cocky idiot who swore he could handle it. But they all went radio silent. You’re the best, Danan.”

  “The best, huh?” He snorts, flexing the joints of his mechanical arm. “Need to check their bodies?”

  “Why bother checking on dead fools who couldn’t even finish the job? They’re disposable, got it? Dis-pos-able. Isn’t it hilarious, risking their lives for a measly thousand credits?”

  “Funny? I’d turn down a deal like that in a heartbeat. How old were they, anyway?”

  “Mid-teens, probably? Not much older than me. Oh, and that cocky guy? Definitely a gangster. Had some fancy full-body cybernetics.”

  “Hm…”

  The corpse on the stairs was a gangster, then. Probably came for revenge and got himself killed. Danan nods to himself, heading to another room. He passes a biometric scan to unlock a weapon rack.

  “Lils,” he calls.

  “What?”

  “Check your security. Upgrade to the latest system if you need to.”

  “Oh? Did someone find out about us? Imagine, a guy targeting this scrawny body of mine.”

  “Idiot. If someone was after your body, Flesh Crucible would’ve snatched you up ages ago.”

  “No way those perma-tripped freaks could catch me.”

  “Right.”

  “Such a cold response. Cold guys don’t get the girls, you know.”

  “Then make me burn, why don’t you?”

  “Oh, you’re on.”

  Danan equips himself: a relic blade named Hres, its glass-like edge capable of slicing through organic and inorganic matter at the molecular level, strapped to his waist; an assault rifle, a hand magnum, assorted ammo, and grenades. Behind him, fabric rustles.

  “Hey… wanna have a little fun first? I’m lonely,” Lils says.

  “Sure.”

  “I mean, even I crave a bit of human warmth sometimes. But not just anyone, you know? It’s gotta be you. Strong, serious, a man who keeps his promises—guys like that are rare. So, Danan, how about it? Let’s have some fun.”

  An old man who raised Danan from an orphaned kid into a top-tier ruin-digger once told him: Never let a woman lose face. If someone you trust asks, answer their call. And never disarm during the act—passing up an offered feast is a man’s shame.

  “…Lils, that kind of thing isn’t really—”

  “Kidding! What, you thought I was serious? Idiot. You think I’d spread my legs like some streetwalker? Go do your job, you perv.”

  Lils, one sock off, presses her cheek to her knee, a seductive smile playing on her lips as she giggles, flashing white teeth.

  “What, you mad?” she teases.

  “You’ve got some personality, you know that?”

  “I get that a lot. Oh, and can you grab some rations on your way back? I’ll pay you later.”

  That bewitching mix of allure and childish danger. Danan lets out a heavy sigh, steps closer, and lightly taps her head with his mechanical arm before turning away.

  “Ow! What the hell!” she yelps.

  “What’s wrong with smacking an idiot’s head?”

  “That’s cruel! Beating the head of this lonely, intellectual, tragic beauty! If you kill my brain cells, are you gonna take responsibility?!”

  “As if, moron.”

  Her small hand slaps his body armor, and as a final blow, her sharp fist nails him right in the groin.

  “—!” Danan winces, fighting the dull pain radiating from his core. Even for someone as hardened as him, a hit to a vital spot stings.

  “You little brat! Get cocky, will you?!”

  “Go do your damn job! No work, no pay! You can eat canned synth-meat for a month for all I care!”

  “Just ‘cause you’ve got a pretty face doesn’t make you a beauty! Got it? I could easily—”

  Kill you. He swallows the words, roughly ruffling her hair instead. Stumbling, he steps into the elevator.

  “I could crush you to bits!” he shouts as a substitute.

  “Danan!” Lils calls.

  “What?!”

  “…Come back, okay? I’ll be waiting.”

  Before her voice fully reaches him, the elevator doors slide shut.