Chapter One

The workshop was the same as it always had been— obsessively organized clinical unpleasantry in some areas, and piles of scraps that resembled the grimy junkyard they hailed from in others. It was order and disorder melded into one big mess of a place. The variety of materials and half-finished experiments reminded Levy pleasantly of home — the great heap of household trash nestled at the edge of the sorting district. 

No one had answered his knock, and the door had been unlocked. So, as usual, Sax was nowhere to be found, despite being the one to ask Levy over. When he’d called Levy earlier that day, and got straight to the point, asking: 

‘Hey Levy— you’re pretty lonely, right?’ 

His answer had been yes. It wasn’t even like it was a question he had to ask. 

‘Kay, great, come on over.’

…and that was all. If he really wanted something from Levy, though, he’d come out of his metal hidey hole somewhere in the mechanic-laboratory apartment and start explaining today’s strange plan.

Unlike usual, Levy was half-curious about what Sax needed from him today. It wasn’t a typical visit, he knew that at least. He didn’t care enough to go poking around and calling his name, but he cared enough to show up. 

Levy sat down in one of the many ‘upgraded’ rolling chairs, choosing one that did not have rocket boosters attached to it — why Sax couldn’t just walk normally was beyond him. He could hear metal clinking and several machines whirring away, but most of the din had to be automatic. Even Sax couldn’t be in several places at once. 

While he waited for Sax to finish whatever the hell he was doing, Levy mulled over the possibilities of what he might want, swiveling back and forth in the chair. It almost sounded like Sax wanted company and was asking if Levy wanted it too. Yeah, right. Sax couldn’t really tolerate most people. Most people couldn’t tolerate him either, but Levy liked the oddball. He was always interesting, and Levy couldn’t bring himself to care for anyone who wasn’t. They had been stuck together since childhood — the only people they grew up with that had enough ambition to get themselves out of the hell they’d been born into. 

While he was thinking near sappy thoughts about his buddy, he heard the quick rolling of another chair over the tile floor, then Sax’s heavy work boots clomping over to him. Stretched out like he was sunbathing, Levy turned in his chair and eyed Sax with a lazy curiosity. 

His hair looked like a child had glued burnt straw to his head. It was jet black, and it stuck out at odd angles from beneath his work goggles. Like straw, it was coarse, and the ends looked like they’d been actually singed, stark even against his well-tanned skin. “Wanna know what I’ve been workin’ on?” 

Sax’s tooth was chipped, and his words were stunted sometimes. An ironic quirk, because he could talk so intelligently about his work that it made Levy feel dumb as a rock. 

He grinned at Levy, pushing some of the hair out of his eyes. The most appealing quality Sax had was his eyes — they were always bright. It wasn’t something Levy saw often nowadays. It wasn’t something he saw in the mirror either. There was a mischievous glint in his own eyes, maybe, but not like Sax’s. He had energy, spark, life. A pure shot of some mystery drug into a plump vein. Something Levy wanted for himself, but could only have through proximity to Sax. 

Levy stood, pushing the chair back into place, but clearly not far enough into place because Sax immediately moved over to fix it, putting it on some invisible marking only he could see. “Yeah, let’s see it,” he said. 

Sax moved through the lab like an expert rat in a maze. Other than the sterile laboratory-like area, it actually did look like the type of place that rats would thrive in. It was full of nooks and crannies, with scrap-piles more valuable than almost everything Levy owned. 

He just followed Sax and tried not to topple anything over. 

“Okay okay okay, I’m technically done with one, but it’s not even prototype level, it’s just like… I guess practice, but also just for me, but also, uh — oh, this is Sara.” He gestured to a petite blonde woman who sat at a workstation, eye glued to a microscope. “She’s busy right now, but anyway— she looks pretty good, right?” 

Levy raised an eyebrow at Sax. Sara was thin, with flaxen hair pulled back neatly, dressed in clothing fit for a lab. Her clothes were cleaner and less worn than Sax’s overalls and dirty, burn-hole riddled tanktop. 

She looked up from her microscope, snake-like gaze flicking between the two. Her eyes were pale blue and awfully pretty, in the conventional sense. They did not sparkle like Sax’s. When she stood, she was shorter than her co-conspirator, which, for Sax, was pretty short. Levy towered over the two of them, which she didn’t seem to like, her face pinched as she eyed him up. She had the face of a model, but her expressions wouldn’t suit a photoshoot.

“Hey there. I’m Levy.” He stuck out his hand, and Sara shook it, giving him a short nod. 

“Nice to meet you,” she said, her expression rather blank. Her words were stunted, but in a different way from Sax’s — like she didn’t know what to do with her face or tone. 

The way people’s faces moved was something Levy paid close attention to. It could tell you quite a bit about a person, and what little he could tell about Sara was that she wasn’t happy to see him. Or maybe she was just awkward. Her face was near-perfect, with no smile lines, like she’d spent her entire life keeping her face as pristine as possible. 

She didn’t seem interested in Levy at all, only in Sax, which was mildly offensive. She looked over at Sax expectantly, like she was waiting for him to continue the conversation. 

This was probably the oddest thing he’d seen out of his friend in years. Maybe ever. It had been a week or two since Levy had come around, so he’d expected something big, but this wasn’t some insane creation; it was just entirely unexpected. Not only was Sara strange, but so were the two of them together. He’d never once seen Sax show an interest in anyone — he had a hard time even talking with his business partners. 

Now, Sax’s eyes were glowing as he looked at her, like they did when he looked at a freshly made machine. ‘She looks pretty good, right?’ This is his type? All these years, and he couldn’t find a single other small light-haired woman who wants to work in his lab? Why now?

“I didn’t give her much of a personality, because I really just wanted an assistant — that, and I needed to work on some skin subtleties, ‘cause it was a lot more complicated than I thought. The face took ages to get right, too. It’s not easy, y’know. I basically had to learn sculpting.”

Upon closer inspection, Levy was somewhat appalled at himself for not realizing she wasn’t real. Shaking her hand felt like shaking anyone’s hand. Her body looked so real that he thought Sax had finally found himself a woman. The way she acted gave it away most, but Sax was real, too, and he was plenty weird. 

“She’s the first model, barely, and she’ll probably help me build the second. Oh yeah, the second model — that’s where you come in.” Sax was rocking back and forth on his heels in excitement now. 

Levy, however, had gone completely still, critical eyes roving over Sara. 

She pulled her gaze away from Sax to glance at Levy, squinting at him as he stared back at her. 

He had to take a second before responding. Sax just stared at him, practically quivering with anticipation. 

Sara folded her arms behind her back, standing at attention beside Sax. 

“Are you going to elaborate, or what?” Levy asked, finally.

That phrase seemed to delight Sax, and he grabbed Levy’s hand to pull him into a different section of the lab, which Sara took as a cue to stalk off to do her own thing. So weird. 

In a corner, tucked away from some of the larger machinery and storage, was Sax’s ‘brainstorming area’ — a collection of desks and art supplies. There were hundreds of incomprehensible schematics stuck up on the drywall, forming a mosaic that was likely the closest anyone would get to understanding Sax’s mind. 

Above one metallic desk were several sketches of Sara, ranging in detail, including photos of a woman with a striking resemblance to her. The images seemed stock-like, as if Sax had chosen a random model from an advertisement and used her for his creation. Sax grabbed a few of the drawings off the wall and pulled more out of drawers with extremely detailed diagrams of different parts of her body. The nose, iris, her bone structure, an odd-looking pattern of veins, notes with her blood type, the color codes of her skin and eyes, some paint swatches, and a pastel coloring. 

Levy took them as Sax handed them over, studying them with intrigue. “So, you made the body? All of it?”

Sax nodded, still gathering various schematics and documents — always knowing exactly where they were. “Well, you know they’ve been taking the personality tech, and putting it in bots, like, actual bots.” He handed a page to Levy, a printed display of a device shaped like a stomach and intestines, with some kind of churning mechanism hidden within. “It’s jus’ like that, except, y’know. Not boring.” He grinned, looking up at Levy eagerly. 

Levy knew plenty about that. There were billboards everywhere, and apps you could use to talk with someone who wasn’t real — that was old news. He’d even seen an interview, once, where they’d done something similar to what Sax was talking about. It was a bot, all plastic and metal. It was clear in the way they moved and how they looked on the screen. Levy had tried talking to a digital, projected one before, but it was dull. Even after decades of development, it would never compare to the real thing. 

The diagrams in his hand were something else entirely. Sara looked like an actress who was told to pretend to be a robot. Levy had been the first one to see many other technological breakthroughs that Sax had made. He’d learned to expect a shock whenever his friend wanted to show him something. Only a real genius could afford to freelance from his own lab as Sax did — Levy didn’t even come close. 

“I got commissioned by one of the ‘person’ companies to figure out how to get their tech into a real body. I can’t say who right now, y’know how it goes,” he said, settling down into a nearby chair. “They wanted me to use real bodies, and take over brains and stuff, but it really wasn’t working out. Didn’t even get past the first phases on that one.”

Levy remembered that, distantly. There had been lots of brains in jars around the lab for a couple of months.

“So, obviously, next best thing, just make something as ‘people’ as possible. A bot that can eat, sleep, breathe, bleed…” 

“Fuck?” Levy chimed in, shooting Sax a thin smile. 

He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. “Yeah, that, whatever. I kind of couldn’t say anything about it cause’ they don’t want anyone taking the idea, but I need someone to give me a vision, so I can make it, because uh… well, I wouldn’t want that kind of thing myself.” 

As far as Levy knew, he had never been interested in another human being, unless they benefited his work somehow. Well, other than Levy, but their friendship was a fluke in the methodical way Sax went about life. “So, you’re gonna make me one of these? Like Sara but-” 

“With a personality of your choosin’, yeah. The main thing this company wants is like, ready-made romantic partners, and I can’t do that for myself. They said, ‘Make whoever you want, Sax, it’ll be great, Sax!’ Then, boom, I show up with Sara, and all I get is ‘not romantically appealing’. Perfect body, but nope, no sex appeal. What even is that?” 

As Sax ranted, Levy took a seat next to him. Levy couldn’t even fathom how much he would be getting paid for a job like this, and the company likely wasn’t happy with the lack of an official prototype. He’d seen the jar-brains several months ago, so this commission had been set for ages. “I can see how they’d think that. I mean, no offense, but she barely even talked. You’re the only person who’s attracted to robots, Sax.” 

He scowled at Levy. “It’s not like that. The program — well, it’s stupid, because they market it kinda simple — Sara is really simple because I want her to be, but the thing itself is super mega detailed.” Sax sat down, brushed all of the other Sara diagrams and drawings off the desk, and pulled out some fresh sheets of paper from a compartment underneath. It was a casual display of wealth — having stacks of real drawing paper. 

Levy watched, tapping his foot as Sax began doodling absentmindedly. Well, it seemed like absent-minded doodling until some sort of diagram began to form — a collection of circles and swirls all leading into one another. 

“You can input basic things, personality traits, and some backstory, and the program makes up the rest. But obviously, the more you put in, the more exact it’s going to be. You start going less into how they act and more into why they act that way. It’s the real-deal artificial intelligence, because they can actually think and reason — ‘f you give em’ enough substance to go on, anyway. You can put in memories, as many as you want, really, and the program factors all of that in. Any bit of information you can cram into it, it’ll use — in some way.” He continued, pointing to the center circle with the pencil, before doing less organized scribbles around it, like a cloud. 

The only A.I. Levy knew of had pre-set personalities and built memories as you interacted with them. What Sax described sounded more like an actor — something that was playing a character, with made-up memories and traits. 

“Then, I put it into the body, and it’s like they have a mind of their own. It will scan the things they see and hear, and input those as memories. It even has a way of like, blurring them, so even though I could access them clear as day from the control board, the consciousness can’t recall things perfectly.” 

Levy hummed. “Sounds complicated.” 

Sax rolled his eyes. “Told you so. Anyway, it gets new experiences, it learns things, and then it will, theoretically, jus’ get more human. He sat up and craned his head to look for Sara, and Levy’s gaze followed. 

She was working on something else now, examining a machine all on her own. 

“I messed around with it a lot for her to be the way I want. She’s basically just an actual robot in a human body, built to assist me. My problem is like, they want me to make someone, to show off, and I want to use all of these things and input as much as possible, but without the actual information, I’ve just got a husk that only develops slowly. I just can’t come up with a backstory, or whatever you want to call it. ‘nd they’re asking for the bodies, so I already showed em’ Sara, but like I said, she uh… wasn’t received too well.” He looked back over at her with a dejected expression. 

It was easy for Levy to see that he felt sorry for her. That wasn’t saying much, because he’d probably feel for a piece of scrap metal if it got rejected like that, but his face tugged at Levy’s cold, dead heartstrings. He put a hand on Sax’s arm, drawing his attention back to him. “It’s going to be fine. We’ll make something — someone — real nice. I’ll need a couple of days to come up with things, but it shouldn’t take me long.” He hoped, at least. 

“Well, we can start the appearance now, can’t we? Cause look, ‘mnot saying it’ll be a rush job, but I’m not saying, ‘No pressure, take your time!’ neither.” 

Sax didn’t like operating with a lot of pressure — he had unreal amounts of patience for his personal projects. Working with the corporations, though, was all about pressure. If you didn’t give them what they wanted, or if you dared to leak their precious ideas, it wasn’t just money on the line. They called hits on whistleblowers like nobody’s business. Levy knew that better than anyone. 

Sax folded his arms over his chest. “So, d’you want a man or a woman?” 

Levy thought about it for a second or two. 

“A woman.” His ideal woman. He was already forming her in his mind. It wasn’t something he’d consciously thought about before, but something that had existed in the back of his head for a while. A meld of all the women he’d been attracted to, picking out each feature, trying to piece together why he’d liked them in the first place.

Sax whipped out some charcoal pencils and a knobby-looking eraser from their designated spot and looked up at Levy expectantly. “Describe her. In as much detail as you can — actually, why don’t you go on and have a seat. You don’t have a job tonight, right?”

Levy shook his head, pulling up another rolling chair to sit beside Sax. There wasn’t anything set, but he also worked on a sort of commission, although it was even less savory than what Sax did — even the brains in jars. For Levy, the call could come at any time. He sort of liked it — it kept him on his toes, so he never lost interest in his work. Though it wasn’t quite as fun as building ready-made romantic partners. “Anything in particular you want first?” Levy asked. 

Sax chewed on the end of his pencil before nodding and immediately beginning to scrawl some light lines on the paper. “We’ll start with the body and a bit of face. Head shape, height, proportions, all of that stuff. Try to be pretty accurate, because with Sara I had real measurements to work with.” 

Levy wished he had a pencil to bite idly while they did this. Or maybe a cigarette to smoke. Sara’s physical appearance was based on someone real, but this woman — his woman — was entirely imaginary. For now, anyway. “Tall, with long legs. Let’s say around six feet tall. Thin shoulders, a waist that pulls in, and then flares back out at the hips. But keep the legs spindly, like a spider.” He wanted her to be odd. Gorgeous, but unique still. She would be unlike any woman that existed. Not just his, but the ideal woman, widely desired. “Round face, but thin — I kind of like the frail look.” 

There was more sketching from Sax. It was a nice sound, and he didn’t mind the way Sax repeated everything under his breath while he worked. It made Levy smile gently. A frame was starting to form beneath Sax’s fingers. He worked fast and well. Even though it was rough and some parts were missing, it still looked just as he’d been describing it. If Sax was custom-making these, the clientele must be high-class. It certainly put more stress on Sax because the richer they were, the more ruthlessly critical. Levy liked the idea of having something only the extremely wealthy could afford. 

“Elegant hands. I like the way you’re doing it. She should look elegant all over.” 

He continued sketching and erasing. “Okay, now do boobs and butt, stop acting all innocent. I need to know how to do em’ the way people want,” Sax muttered. Despite himself, the mildly hushed tone of his voice made it sound like he was embarrassed to be talking about it with Levy. 

Levy rolled his eyes, but he was smiling as he pulled his chair closer to get a better look at the drawing. “Smaller chest, bigger ass. Make the waist a little low, so the torso looks longer. And…” He watched as Sax sketched at a furious pace, momentarily distracted by how calm his face looked. 

His hands were flying all over the place, adding detail, but his expression was still, almost blank. 

Oddball. “Less… perky. They should look natural. I don’t know if most people will want it like that, but I want it like that. Anyway, I don’t know how many pairs you’ve seen up close, but you might want to do some studying.” He was mostly joking, Levy knew him well enough to know that he’d been born with a pair of his own, but it wouldn’t be unlike Sax to hire someone off the street to just stand there naked while he drew. 

It was an artistic thing to do, but the way Sax would go about it certainly wouldn’t be. He was creative, in a sense, but tended to isolate himself emotionally from other people. For all of his intelligence, Sax had no idea how to create a personality. 

Levy made plenty of them for himself, different personas for when he was with different people. 

Sax continued in silence. There were now three frames on the paper. Front, side, and back. All forming roughly, and then being smoothed out by his careful erasing and slower, more careful sketching. 

“That’s good. I like all of that.” 

Sax nodded and leaned back, stretching like a cat before pushing that sheet to the side and grabbing another one. 

“Face now, this one I need a lot of detail on, unless you want to find a couple of images. Actually, I might make you do that anyway, just ‘cause, y’know.” 

It was hard to picture her face without a personality. People’s faces sat a certain way depending on their mood, how they’d grown up, even. He tried to think of what her emotions would be like, how she’d furrow her brows, the way she’d smile. Nothing came to mind. “Why start with the appearance? You want me to make a person, right? Shouldn’t we make a story first?” he asked. 

Sax looked like the questions were irritating him, but he put the pencil down. “Appearance first because it’s easy. And I think you’ll need a while to figure out how she acts, so while you do that, I’ll work on the body. Time’s money.” 

Levy smiled at him, with teeth. “You have plenty of money,” he said. 

He scowled back. “You’ve got plenty of time.” 

As if on cue, Levy’s watch buzzed. Sax seemed very interested, leaning over to take a look at it. He’d never let Sax tamper with it, or even take a closer look — he immediately covered the face with his hand. The watches were a trade secret, and it had taken him a hell of a lot of work to get one of these instead of just meeting people in shady alleyways. “Looks like I’m busy tonight after all.” 

Sax was eyeing his watch like it was a piece of meat. “See, and this’s exactly what I’m talkin’ about.” He tapped Levy’s wrist. “If I don’t get this job done, they’ll sic you on me next.” 

His watch was a one-of-a-kind, completely off-the-grid, murder for hire device. It was, and always would be, strictly off-limits to Sax. Displayed on it was a street corner and the letters ‘AB’. Levy pressed the single button, and it stopped buzzing. He stood up, tucking it back under his sleeve and shooting Sax an affectionate grin. “Don’t worry. You know I’d make it quick.”
Sax rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right. You wouldn’t even make it through the door.” 

“You left it unlocked!” 

He grinned. “’Cause I know you don’t have the balls.” 

“You should be more careful anyway.” With everything Sax had his genius paws in, there was no doubt plenty of people were out to get him. 

Sax sighed like Levy was an idiot. “My system detected you standing outside. If it were someone else…” He mimicked an explosion sound and gestured with his hands. “No need to worry about me in here.” 

 “Alright, Mr. Time crunch. Can you start on the body, and I’ll come round tomorrow to keep working?” 

He nodded. “I’ll make a rough digital model of the body, if you want to add any small details, we can talk about it tomorrow,” Sax said, picking the pencil back up and twirling it deftly in his fingers. “But listen — they’re going to want her to do some advertisements, or something like that. So she needs to be… y’know.” 

“Personable?” 

Sax snapped his fingers. “Exactly. A good personality. Not like you, basically.” 

“You’re one to talk,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Can I borrow some stuff? I’m not well stocked at the moment.” There was a handgun in his coat, and that was all. Luckily, Sax didn’t just build robots. Up until the past year, Sax had mostly worked on creating a vast array of combative devices. 

“You know where to find ‘em. Take whatever you want, just give it back. Clean.” He waved to a corner of the lab. 

An entire wall was dedicated to Sax’s stash of things he created over the years. They were all displayed neatly, organized by type. Guns, sharps — knives, swords, the like — explosives, drones, the works. They all fit perfectly into their own slots, like a giant puzzle-game of weaponry. Levy was a kid in a candy shop every time he stepped up to it. He scanned the board, trying to decide what he might need tonight. 

He first selected a laser blaster, compact but with a longer range, and useful for a lot of other things. It was also very expensive, Levy assumed. 

The knives were all different colors and shapes, and many had some suspicious-looking buttons and large handles for battery storage. He selected the most normal-looking one he could find. Knowing Sax, there was probably some odd feature to it. 

Next, he perused the explosives. If it were something really big, he’d be given enough time to prepare properly. Still, no matter the job, there was always a chance that things could go very south. He grabbed a grenade that pulsed in his pocket uncomfortably. It glowed a strange, dim blue, but it would probably be useful. Levy grabbed another smaller, more exploding-looking one just in case. 

Once he’d taken his pick of the litter, he shouted goodbye — hoping Sax was paying enough attention to hear it — and stepped out of the lab. 

As the elevator took Levy further away from Sax, he shook out his shoulders and arms, running a hand through his hair, mussing his neat, slicked-back look. 

He stepped out of the elevator and walked briskly through the lobby, nodding to the doorman, who ignored him completely. This was a fancy neighborhood with neon lights, clean smog-free streets, and well-dressed people. Sax, with his talents, was wealthy. There were endless ways for him to make money. He’d started with weapons, of course, but other than the supplies he kept for Levy and personal security, his friend hadn’t dealt any arms lately. Not that he knew of, anyway.

A delivery robot flew past him, the crowd parting to make way. Although this wasn’t the tech district, plenty of people had gadgets on them. It had become more than just convenience. Tech was fashionable and a way to show off that you could afford the latest shiny toy. Flight was really in right now; no one was having their food delivered by a regular robot anymore. 

Above Levy, there were dozens of hovercars just floating midair- the air traffic in the most high-tech districts was terrible. Above them, the high-speed air-railway whizzed by. A drunk man’s glasses fell off as he stumbled down the street. They had a faint glow and were probably recording — saving the memories to be viewed later with a proper headset. Levy crushed them beneath his foot, grinding his heel into the ground and continuing. Though he couldn’t afford them, he had no interest in swiping them — just in ruining some asshole tech-bro’s night. 

Since he’d smuggled himself into the city at nineteen, the only thing that had kept him alive was taking the life out of others. It put much-needed money in his pocket. The job might be a little rougher than sitting in a lab all day and tinkering, but it also gave him a chance to do what he’d daydreamed about his entire childhood: fucking over everyone that wasn’t stuck living in a trash heap. His anger was tainted by the desire to be a real city-slicker, to spend money frivolously, get cosmetic surgery, and be treated like he was someone important. Having control over someone else’s life made him feel important. 

As his boots traveled across the colorfully lit sidewalk, with cheerful, opulent people bumping into him, a thin glimmer of excitement bloomed in his chest. 

Who will it be tonight? What was their story? 

Levy didn’t kill as recommended: mindlessly, without any thought into it, pushing the memory back deep into his mind, completely desensitized. The colleagues he knew closely enough to understand did the job already trying to rid themselves of the memory. Levy wanted to know them, even if it was in hindsight. He kept a wall of records and photos, a record of each life he’d taken, and whatever information he could glean about why. Sax was the only person who knew, because he’d poked around enough in Levy’s apartment. To him, the act carried sanctity. It was retribution for him, sometimes, and on others, just intervention. Today was someone’s day to die. He wanted to know what life was ending. 

Levy liked creating characters in his head on the way to jobs, while waiting for his opportunity, while he cleaned up, or while he made his escape. It was the only way he could get through it — a fantasy justification for his own actions, making up a story about why a person deserved to be killed. Should he think of her like that? She wasn’t technically alive, but his mind could breathe life into her, just like his hands could take the life out of someone else. 

He pondered that on the way to the street corner. 

A woman with dark hair and sunglasses at night leaned up against the wall, arms folded. She pushed her glasses further up her nose, completely unfazed as a group of intoxicated girls brushed past her, giggling and stumbling in the cold night air. She was tapping her foot, clearly waiting for something, or someone. They were in the middle of a partying city-district, and while her expression was party-pooper sour, she looked like she belonged in a club. She wore a sparkling jacket, with glowing jewelry that hugged her throat and arms, and tight black pants that hugged her ass. What would my woman wear? Not anything like this woman, but he needed to think more about the specifics. 

Levy’s style was plain and old-school. His fake-leather jacket that reached past his knees, covering beat-up gray pants that had enough pockets and installed armoring to be considered ‘military-grade’ — not that militaries even existed anymore, it was just a marketing point — and a dark, long-sleeved thermal shirt that kept him warm during cold nights. In his jacket pocket, there was a pair of matching real-leather gloves, the most well-kept item of clothing he had. They’d seen a lot, but he took good care of them. His woman needed better than all of that.

Levy sidled up next to the figure, sighing as he leaned up against the wall, and crossed his arms — mirroring and mocking her stance. “Abelyn,” he said, all too familiar.

She tossed a lock of jet-black hair out of her face sharply, not looking at him. “Levy.” She paused, like she was steeling herself for the conversation ahead. “Let’s go in. I’ve got a booth.” Her hair flicked him in the face as she turned quickly, leading him inside. 

He followed as she weaved expertly across the dance floor, parting the seas of people swaying with the joy of alcohol in their systems. Electronic dance music blared overhead, and although it wasn’t quite Levy’s style, it relaxed him. He frequented clubs often, but he did so for the people and alcohol, not the music. There was no easier way to forget who you were and where you came from than to shove yourself in a substance-happy crowd. 

He ordered a shot as soon as they sat down. 

Abelyn leaned back into the booth tiredly. It might be unprofessional of him to drink in front of the person who’d chosen him for the job, but that was his charm. The persona, the mask he hid behind as a killer — a commissioned employee — was uncaring and frivolous. He disliked the cold front that many of his colleagues, including her, put on. 

She sighed and took off her sunglasses. It was much quieter in the private room, and dim without the rainbow projections of the main area. Purple lights underneath the booth seats illuminated the room from below, but that was about as far as the lights went. Still, he could see that the expression on her face was grim, eyes stony. 

“Not in much of a hurry, are you?” He asked, smiling lightly. 

She opened her mouth to say something, but the waiter came back and deposited a small glass of translucent green liquid. When the door shut behind him, she leaned back and watched cheerlessly as he knocked it back. It burned as it went down, and he smiled through it. He needed a hit of courage more than a knife in his hands could give him. 

Abelyn pursed her lips, but didn’t make any comments on his drinking. “Someone already turned me down tonight. It’s still time sensitive. The client wants her dead before sunrise.” 

His shoulders straightened. There were thousands of reasons a job could be passed on by someone. Levy had never turned down a job. Being the second-choice was an honor. 

Abelyn crossed one leg over the other, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. “It’s a little kid. E.B.X. wouldn’t do it for me. It won’t take you long, just in and out.” 

The smile on his face faltered. “What’s the story?” He asked, tilting his head at her. 

Her gaze remained steely. “Client wants revenge. Doesn’t want the guy killed, just his kid. The request is that it’s quiet, but brutal. No guns. He wants blood. Tell me if you’ll do it or not, because I’ll ask someone else.” 

Levy felt sick to his stomach, flittering nausea-bugs pawing their way up his throat. Maybe alcohol hadn’t been the best idea tonight. Or maybe he wouldn’t be able to kill a kid sober. The youngest person on his wall was nineteen, but Levy had been twenty — it hardly felt like child murder. 

Abelyn drummed her fingers on the table, but her shoulders remained stiff. 

“Yeah, I’ll do it,” he said. “Just sneak in, and cut her up?” 

She nodded and rolled up her sleeve, revealing a more complicated silver watch — six buttons and a small projector-pad in the center that created a larger touch-sensitive display. 

Abelyn wasn’t ‘for hire’. She got the listing and picked the killer for the job, selecting their letter code — L.V. for him, A.B. for her, but after seven years, they’d gotten on a first-name basis. Abelyn gave the details and paid. She’d helped him set up his first bank account, with forged documents. They didn’t discuss internal affairs, but he was pretty sure there was someone above her who actually talked to the client, and then, of course, the client themselves. No H.R. department, but Levy considered himself a human resource, lying firmly at the bottom rung. 

It took her a moment to pull up a set of coordinates, hanging above her wrist in projected light. “It’s up in the hills. Real quiet up there.” 

He wondered where she lived, and how long she’d done the killing herself before getting this job. Abelyn, despite knowing more information about Levy than he’d like her to, kept herself a mystery. 

“You’ll get a ride,” she continued, her boot tapping against the floor. She seemed ready to get this over with, eyes flitting between him and the door. Her watch buzzed, and she leaned back in her seat, sighing. “Car’s out front. Get out of here.” 

“Wish me luck,” he said, standing — tab unpaid. 

She grimaced at him and shook her head. 

He shrugged, slipping out the door and making his way through the crowd once more. There was a nice black car waiting out front, the kind that wouldn’t look suspicious in a rich area. He slipped into the back and was mildly disappointed to find an opaque shade drawn between him and the driver. 

Although the people who walked the streets of the arts district covered in electronics were rich, the fact that they were obsessed with tech proved that they weren’t wealthy. The richest people didn’t even live in the city. They could afford to have older cars made that ran on gasoline with no flight mechanics — they could take a copter or high-speed hovership for that. Their neighborhoods were dark at night with aerial shields for the light pollution, and — most importantly — they invested in human security rather than a complicated, but hackable system. Levy shared their general distaste for technology. He’d spent a long time looking up at the hoverships and high-speed trains passing over his home, wishing they’d stop and take him with them. Now, he looked at them with distaste, preferring gasoline to propellers, real screens to projectors, and torn between wanting to be wealthy himself and hating the people who had more than him.

The drive was long and dull. An hour outside the city, the relentlessly tall skyscrapers faded into giant mansions, with less hover-traffic, and more greenery — privacy screens for those who could afford it. He fingered the knife he’d taken from Sax in his pocket the entire time, thinking about how if they drove a few more hours in this direction, they’d meet the two-thousand-foot concrete wall that separated the coastline from the first of several sorting districts. Mounds of trash higher than the wall were built up along the Sierra Nevadas, stretching all the way to the Rockies, where a new district began. If he looked out the front window, he’d be able to see their silhouettes in the dark — the only light coming from the railway traffic above. Further away, deep in the valley that used to be Las Vegas, lay a hulking mass of recycling factories, a hub that stretched up to the trash-mountains and took care of the city’s messes. 

Levy stared listlessly at the green trees as they raced by the window. Hardly anything grew in the sorting district. The residents, most of them missing fingers, toes, or limbs from factory work, brawls, or scavenging in the dump, survived on rations sent in from the city. He’d been lucky enough to escape with all his appendages. Levy settled back into the leather seat, running his finger along the cold metal of the knife. 

They pulled into a nice neighborhood, full of houses ten times the size of his apartment, built on a man-made hill overlooking the city. Large, pretty walls surrounded each home, mockingly reminiscent of the one he’d crossed to get here, within view of that very same wall. 

The car came to a slow halt. Levy slipped on his gloves, got out, and then the driver discreetly left him in front of an elegant villa. The lawn was distinctly green, even in the dark, and neatly manicured. Levy wondered if the girl he was about to kill liked to play outside. 

He stood outside for a few moments, pacing back and forth soft-footed and obscured, waiting for a security guard to pass by. The second he heard footsteps, he paused. When they faded, he waited for another cycle, listening for another set of footsteps. It seemed like just a single guard, but regardless, if he got caught, this could quickly turn into a much larger mess.  Easy, my ass. He was glad he’d had the forethought to bring a blaster. He preferred the weight of a gun in his hands, but it was more convenient to burn a quiet hole through someone’s insides. Unless they were wearing blaster-armor, which any security who valued their lives would be. Bullet or blaster, he was fucked. Levy grit his teeth, slipping the knife inside his coat to draw his other weapon, still pressed flat against the outer wall. If he had to take out the security, too, he could argue for a bit of extra pay. 

It took him a couple more minutes of surveying from afar before the steps faded to the back of the house once more. Without holstering his weapon, he placed a hand atop the wall, careful to avoid the metal fence-spikes, and hoisted himself up. 

Being tall had its benefits for breaking and entering. He was a good climber, and he’d lost his fear of heights after he’d had to crawl out of a skyscraper window and hide on the ledge during a job. If he could handle that, he could handle jumping down off this wall and into their yard. Levy landed with a muted thump, the grass masking the noise nicely.

He crept up to the house and slunk along the walls, peering into windows, studying the seal, and trying to determine if there was any sort of system installed. 

These houses were always the simplest, as long as he was quick and quiet. Abelyn had said it would be easy, and this was an abhorrently fancy neighborhood, far out of the city. They were a lot less careful than they should have been. No one that rich would expect someone like Levy to break into their home— not consciously. The guards were a good deterrent, and many high-profile murders took place in public, anyway. There’d been a shift towards physical security in the years since he’d started working, but if they continued like they were, intensive security systems would be back in the suburbs soon enough. In the city, they were ever-present, just another way for corporations to take their cash with the illusion of protecting it. With everyone stacked on top of each other, robberies were too common for anyone to risk going without one.  It was just another thing that separated the very rich and the rest of humanity. 

Tonight, though, it just made the job easier. 

The lone guard should be on the opposite side of the house, if he hadn’t heard Levy jump off the wall. After scouring the bottom floor’s windows and not finding any bedrooms, Levy determined that his girl and her parents were all sleeping upstairs. 

He brought the knife back out, but before he could begin to slide it across the window seal, the rhythmic thump of footsteps was passing along the front again. Levy grimaced at the lack of hiding spots and took a knee on the ground, waiting for the guard to turn the corner, blaster raised. 

The footsteps paused. Levy cursed under his breath, pressing himself closer to the ground. He watched as the guard walked towards the edge of the yard. Levy held the weapon steady in his hands, feeling the dewy grass seep through his pants, and poised himself to shoot. 

If I can see him, he can see me.
The guard had a large gun strapped to his back and multiple bulges along his sides. He was dressed in black, and his armored back was to Levy. He could see the guard go still, staring out at the street, but Levy still heard footsteps. 

Loud footsteps, even on the wet grass, were rounding the back of the house. His heart began thumping rapidly in his chest, and he gripped his weapon tighter. Another guard. Fuck. He should’ve known that this house was too nice for a single guard. There might be more inside, maybe one right outside the kid’s bedroom. 

Levy had around five seconds to decide before the first guard would turn around and see him, and the second would come help the first deal with Levy. In other words, he had five seconds before he would be fighting for his life, and likely losing. 

Before he could come to terms with that, the five seconds were up. 

Only the guard didn’t do what Levy expected. Instead of the intelligent decision to continue on his route and ensure that the noise he heard wasn’t someone entering the premises, he stepped further towards the gate and poked his head through. I’d be a better security guard than this idiot. 

 As the guard peered through the gate, scanning the street, Levy seized his chance, carefully getting to his feet and slicing the seal of the window open. He jimmied it open expertly before crawling through into their kitchen, shutting it ever so quietly behind him, and drawing the curtain.
Levy sighed and shook out his shoulders, allowing himself a moment before starting to walk through the house. He sidled up against each wall, listening intently for sound from each room before entering. 

Their stairs didn’t creak. Neither did her bedroom door. 

He’d found it on the first try, a hint of pink glow from underneath the door. When he got inside, he realized it was from a small night-light in the corner. His eyes adjusted to the light as he regarded the room silently. 

It was fit for a princess. She had a four-poster bed, a fluffy pink carpet that his boots made indents in as he stalked closer, and a litany of toys scattered across the room. She had a tiny vanity too, with glittery makeup products lined up next to each other. He couldn’t help but smile, seeing that be so organized while the rest of the room lay in complete disarray. It reminded him of Sax’s lab. 

She looked princess-like, too. Levy paused a few steps from her bed and watched her chest rise and fall, plush covers half flung off, as if she’d gotten hot in the middle of the night. She had long, light brown hair, glossy like the fur of a mouse or a rabbit. He adjusted his glove and turned the knife over in his other hand. 

He couldn’t stay a monster in her closet forever. The job needed to be done. 

Levy brushed the hair off her neck and turned her head slightly. She stirred, but didn’t wake up. He placed a gloved hand over her mouth, tight, but leaving her jawline exposed. With his other hand, he delivered a sharp punch to the edge of her jaw. She went completely slack, her arm heavy as he picked it up and let it fall. 

She wouldn’t know she was dying. For her, she would have simply fallen asleep and never woken up. 

He sat her up on the bed, propping her up against the pink pillows, and began carving at her neck with a practiced precision. The flesh was delicate and easy to cut through compared to some of the other throats he’d slit. If she were awake, Levy didn’t think he’d have the strength to do it. He opened it up completely, slicing through to the cartilage deeper in her neck. Limp and unconscious, it was like taking apart a doll. He pretended it was, anyway. 

Blood seeped down the front of her pajamas, rolling down what was left of her neck in waves, and he could feel the warmth of it through his gloves. She would die within minutes. He needed to be almost done by that point. He wants blood. That’s what Abelyn had told him. It would flow slowly when her heart stopped, and she was tiny — she didn’t have much to bleed before her body would start to pale. Levy didn’t have much time. 

 If the guard were a real professional, he’d notice the window had been tampered with, enter the house, and then Levy would have a much more difficult kill to complete. With the stupidity Levy had witnessed minutes before, he wasn’t too worried. 

Levy tilted her head back and watched as blood spurted outward, splattering over the bedsheets. He held his hand out and cupped it before flicking the liquid out across the carpet, faking more of a scene. 

It would probably look better if he just carried her over there. He let her continue bleeding on the bed for a couple of moments before sticking the knife in her stomach so he could grab her with both of his hands and drag her across the floor by her armpits. She wasn’t heavy, but he didn’t want to carry her while she was still bleeding profusely. Levy lay her on the carpet and grabbed his knife from her stomach, crouching down to press his fingers against the side of her wrist. 

Through the gloves, he couldn’t feel a pulse, but it could just be thready. He slid the knife along each of her wrists, feeling the tendons snap under the deep pressure. The blood was slowing down now, thick and darker red, oozing gently from her neck, and flowing from her wrists into the fibers of the fuzzy carpet. Her room would be ruined. 

He gripped just above her bleeding wrist and watched as the blood came out a little faster, pushing with his thumb until he could see part of her flesh move out of the cut. He’d never been squeamish, but the thin, delicate arm in his hand stirred something deep and uncomfortable in him. He dropped her wrist and stared at his bloody glove. The red added a varnish-like gloss to the leather. He’d have to clean them thoroughly after this. 

Levy went back to the wound in her stomach and extended it with his knife, before reaching inside and widening it further, turning his head away from his own hand. The squelching noise made his ears tingle, like nails on a chalkboard. He could feel her organs as he pressed deeper. He pulled some intestines out as he removed his hand, breathing through his mouth. With each flick of the knife, the scar on his lower abdomen burned like it was his flesh being carved. When he was nine, another kid shivved him over a busted doll. Levy didn’t even like dolls. Sax wanted a specific kind of plastic for some project. It was his oldest stab wound. 

This girl wouldn’t remember any of hers. She wouldn’t remember the pain. He struggled to come up with any sort of hardship she’d experienced. Her life started and ended in splendor. He felt sick to his stomach, thinking about her in the Sorting District. She had it better than us. It wasn’t his fault someone else wanted her dead. He’d add her picture to his wall and remember her. It felt wrong to try and forget.

Levy was ready to be done. He pressed the singular button on his watch three times, calling the car back. It wasn’t a guarantee, but he hoped they’d still be circling the neighborhood. The guards seemed to be very interested in the street outside the house, so escaping might be more difficult than getting in. 

The girl was dead now.

He slid one of his arms underneath her and hoisted her up into his arms — careful not to brush against her neck or hands too much. She felt awfully small, like this, and cradling her was too intimate. He carried her back to her bed and set her up for her parents to find. Sitting up, with her hands folded over her open stomach. 

Levy remembered something Sax had said to him earlier, only an hour or two ago: ‘They can’t make babies or anything like that though.’ 

He didn’t deserve a child anyway. Not after this.

He exhaled shakily, standing in her doorway one last time before leaving. The job was done. 

Levy wiped his gloves clean on her carpet and took off his boots, slinking back through the house in socked feet, knife and blaster stowed away.

With his boots in one hand, Levy peered out several windows from the cover of the house. Crouched behind their sofa, he watched as both guards passed by and counted the seconds between their routes. 

There wouldn’t quite be enough time for him to get out unnoticed. While carrying his shoes, he needed more time to get back over the wall. Fifteen seconds after the second guard passed by the living room window, Levy reached into one of his pockets and pulled out the pulsing grenade. 

He stared at it for a moment and, hoping that he wasn’t about to accidentally kill himself, pulled the pin. Quickly, he opened the window and tossed it out, then closed the window again and snuck further into the house. 

The explosion was quiet, for one of Sax’s grenades. It cast a blue glow, almost like an EMP, but none of the softly whirring devices in the house seemed to be afflicted. Levy wasn’t curious enough to stick around and find out what it really did. 

He waited for both guards to rush over before exiting through the same window he’d come in, on the opposite side of the house. A curdling scream echoed from the other side, quickly followed by another. Levy didn’t look back. 

He grimaced as his feet hit the wet lawn, and as they hit the concrete road after he hopped back over the wall. When the black car pulled up a block away, he threw his bloody boots inside, pulled off his gloves, and sank back into the leather seats. After a moment, he shrugged off his coat and shoved the gloves inside his pockets. 

As the car pulled off, Levy found himself sure of one thing. 

His ideal woman needed to be a killer.