Eve Mardin was just a name. Abel had no face to place on the young girl who was allegedly spirited away by the Altiman District Peacekeepers, perhaps even killed.

  And now it seemed like the compelling girl in front of him had something to do with her disappearance. Well, not directly in front of him. Now, there was a rather inconveniently-placed person between them making demands.

  Of course, the rational thing for Abel to do would be to keep his head down, to do everything to keep his promise to Dmitri and keep this ordeal as far away from himself as possible.

  But even in his resolve to turn away, he found he couldn’t help but listen in on the confrontation unraveling before him, even as he caught Neymar’s warning look. He was just making sure he didn’t become her next target. That’s all.

  “What do you have to say for yourself, Volta?” The interjecting boy tilted his chin up, condescending and so obviously pissed. He had a cleaner look about himself than most— purposefully crisp, plain and minimal.

  Volta grinned with all her teeth.

  “Milo, I’ve missed you too. I’ve only ditched class for a few days and I can tell you’ve been lost without me.” She gestured to the pair of boys that flanked him. “Why, you’ve even formed a second Peacekeeper unit for the District while I was gone. You may be giving the Catchers a run for their money at this rate!”

  Milo sucked in a breath of anger. “Avoiding the question makes you look more guilty.”

  “What am I guilty of?” Volta feigned innocence.

  “You were the last one seen with Eve. Seemed like you were pretty upset at her, actually.”

  Volta’s grin faltered for just a moment. “Ah, yes. She was being a bit of a little shit.” Volta patted his shoulder sympathetically. “Unfortunately, she left the way the rest of us eventually will. In the dead of night with a Catcher breathing down her neck. What more can I say?”

  Milo leveled a stern gaze at her, she gave him a coy look.

  “You know what’s really interesting?” He gravelled. “How you’re still here.”

  Volta laughed.

  “Shouldn’t you be glad? I thought you’re all about protecting the District and its people. It’s an admirable mission, you know. Now I’m one less person you have to mourn over.” She shrugged. The carefree attitude she had was dialed up, excessive and unnatural. She was forcing herself to sound like she was happy.

  “I just find it so interesting how you’ve now survived the Catchers not only once, but twice.” He mimicked her smile and deliberately peeled her hand from his shoulder. “Not many can say that.”

  “Is that so…?” Quinn’s smile turned to stone.

  “I mean, everyone knows what happened to your mom.” Milo’s gaze narrowed. “If I recall correctly, you were upset at her, too.”

  “Ah. My mom. Right.”

  WHAM.

  Volta threw a left hook into Milo’s jaw, sending him sprawling against the desk behind him.

  “Maybe I’m just very good at staying alive. Have you ever thought about that?” Volta yelled, all the amusement gone out of her eyes. “How about you test it? See if they’ll come now! See if they’ll take someone else instead of me!”

  The classroom erupted into a flurry of noise as a group of students flanking Milo, presumably his lackeys, suddenly swarmed Volta, attempting to wail at her. Abel and Neymar sat stunned by the onslaught of violence, a flurry of fists and limbs and blood. Other students attempted to pull Volta away, rushing her out the door, only for the lackeys to turn their ire towards those who came to her aid. It wasn’t until the teacher physically stepped in between and in one maneuver, held Milo down, that the fighting ceased.

  Rockwell, noticeably, remained in her seat beside Abel and Neymar watching the ordeal play out.

  “Unless you want Peacekeepers for teachers, you’ll keep this rabble out of my classroom. Understood?” The teacher instructed Milo and his group. “To the library, all of you.” When she moved to address Quinn out in the hallway, the girl had already run off, disappearing into the halls.

  “You all have personal study time for the next twenty minutes.” The teacher departed with Milo’s group. The injured students nursed their wounds, some heading to the nurse’s office to do so.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Milo’s group returned shortly after and kept to themselves for the remainder of the day, occasionally whispering to each other. Abel could catch a few of them glancing his way, but continued to keep their distance. It unsettled him.

  They were in the middle of a battlefield.

  Only this time, he couldn’t figure out which side he was expected to fight on.

  He really didn’t want to do this again.

  When the teacher attempted to resume class as if nothing happened, Abel tried to focus on the lesson, only for his mind to wander to the way Quinn Volta’s voice cracked with emotion before she left, and the ruthlessness of Milo’s retaliation.

  See if they’ll take someone else instead of me.

  It was too familiar a feeling for him.

  What really happened between her and Eve Mardin before she was kidnapped? Was it really that hard to survive getting Caught twice? What really happened to her mother? Why did people doubt her word?

  What was she doing now? Was she okay?

  He couldn’t pay attention to a single bit of class.

  ——-

  The first day ended swiftly. As Abel and Neymar exited campus grounds, Abel couldn’t help but peer around, looking for the faded blonde hair dye of Quinn Volta amongst the sea of people. The teacher had mentioned she was sent to another classroom after the incident. So she would be here now, right?

  “What could you possibly be looking for?” Neymar grumbled, eying Abel suspiciously.

  “No one, really.” Abel murmured. Neymar didn’t seem convinced, but Abel swiftly switched topics, seeming to give up on his venture when he failed to spot her. He’ll try again tomorrow.

  “Are all the schools in the Empire like this?”

  “Usually the fist fights happen outside of the classroom. Usually students don’t go missing at the hands of the people meant to protect them.” Neymar was bitter, fuming even.

  “Do you think the Empire knows about this?”

  “It’s people might not. I mean— we knew it was bad, but like a run down part of town. Not…” Madness.

  Even as they were walking back towards their apartment near the edge of the district, the uniformed guard standing at the end of a street took on a more ominous aura. And when they turned the corner, and found themselves alone, it felt like a brief respite.

  And felt like the first time that Abel could speak comfortably with Neymar.

  “Think you’ll back out of this whole Metalworks’ school thing, now? You still have a chance.” Abel stretched, relaxing. He clocked a pedestrian entering the narrow alley from the opposite end. Better make room for them to pass…

  Neymar scoffed.

  “Please. The moment I leave your side, you’re going to somehow fall into a world of trouble and Madam Fenharrow—“

  Abel could feel his body suddenly being thrust off balance as someone pulled his shirt from behind.

  His body slammed into the alley floor hard, his head narrowly avoiding a collision against stone.

  “These are the guys. Get them!” A voice barked out from above.

  Dazed, Abel peered up to see more men rush into the alley as the pedestrian he had just slipped past attempted to kick Neymar’s leg out from under him.

  Were they being mugged? Were they being targeted?

  “We have nothing on us—“ Abel attempted to bark out, but he felt his voice catch on itself. He didn’t want to alert the guard standing on the streets nearby.

  If a Catcher got involved, this could get even messier.

  Which also clearly meant: no using magic either.

  Neymar shoved the pedestrian away as two men jumped on his back and pushed him down to his knees. One had his arm around Neymar’s neck, choking him.

  Abel planted his hands on the ground and kicked up at one of the men in the jaw, who reeled back from the whiplash. Neymar took the opportunity for freedom of movement to reach back and throw the second man over his shoulder and onto his back.

  Abel swiftly twisted to a stand and held his hand out to help Neymar up.

  “You okay?”

  Neymar grabbed Abel’s hand and narrowly pulled him forwards, out of range of a metal pipe that swung for Abel’s head. Neymar then used his free hand to grab the pipe as their attacker attempted to swing back. He shoved the pipe towards the attacker in a swift jab, snapping the woman’s wrist.

  Neymar then swung around and knocked the pipe against the recovering pedestrian’s shoulder, causing him to stagger.

  Abel used that opportunity to grab the pedestrian by the collar and pull him towards them.

  “Why are you attacking us?” Abel snapped in a harsh whisper. But the pedestrian refused to meet his gaze. He was a lean boy, no more than 16, and the blow to his head began to sprout blood.

  “Ngh. She never mentioned you guys would be this strong!” He squirmed in Abel’s grasp, his gaze turning to the rest of his posse in a desperate plea for help as they began to rouse.

  She?

  “Who is she?” Abel demanded.

  The pedestrian spat in Abel’s face instead. Abel flinched, staggering as Neymar shoulder-checked another attacker from behind and knocked into Abel off the momentum

  The pedestrian took the chance to slip out from Abel’s grasp, scrambling down the alley along with the rest of the recovering attackers.

  “Come on.” Neymar pulled Abel by the arm, continuing through the alley.

  “We’re going after them?”

  “Hell no. We’re getting out of here before something worse happens.”

  —-

  It was nightfall by the time they reached their apartment. They drew no further attention after escaping the alley and entered their quiet building as calmly as they exited.

  That is to say, their incident went undetected.

  But in their distraction, Neymar found himself pacing in Abel’s room as Abel laid down at the foot of the bed, staring at the ceiling.

  Neymar had set out everything they could conclude about the events of that afternoon.

  They were followed.

  “Someone believes we’re enough of a threat to try to take us out.”

  “But they don’t know us enough to understand what we’re capable of.” Abel reasoned, sitting up.

  And most notably, they didn’t want the Catchers involved.

  “So there’s a third power at play here. Not the Catchers, not Milo…”

  “Quinn Volta.” Neymar grunted.

  “Or Rockwell.” Abel quickly amended. “Or some third person.”

  “You know nothing about her.”

  “Neither do you!”

  Which her were they talking about?

  Silence fell. The two boys gave each other a long, hard stare.

  “Can’t you ask for a transfer?” Neymar huffed, exasperated. “This is… We’re walking into a death trap to go to school. Can you believe how mental that sounds?”

  “Unfortunately, I can’t.”

  “And why not?”

  Abel hesitated.

  “Think about it. The Altiman District exists to isolate potential threats to the Empire.” Abel mused. “It doesn’t matter if I defected. In the Empire’s eyes, I’m still part of the war. I’m an enemy combatant. I’m… right where they want me to be.”

  He didn’t mention his promise to Dmitri to access the Citadel. He didn’t mention the torture he endured through his interrogation or the Empire’s brutal desperation for answers. He didn’t mention the secrets he held. It was better this way.

  But Neymar stared at him as if he were a different person all the same. It was as if he just realized that Abel was still a soldier.

  And Abel still felt like one.

  There were powers he had to answer to, danger he had to look for, reasons to lose sleep at night.

  And he remembered going through that all alone, once.

  As much as Neymar’s nagging and glares were excessive in Abel’s eyes, he couldn’t help but feel more at ease when they were fighting together. Like it was worth facing the danger ahead.

  And while he didn’t want to fight to begin with, he didn’t quite have the choice to lay down arms yet.

  But maybe he can change that, little by little.

  “You have every option to step away from this, to live a normal life… but…” Abel hesitated. Who was he to ask Neymar to risk his life for him, of all people? Could he really be so selfish?

  “You said it yourself, if a fight comes at me again, you may be my only chance at survival.” A white lie. Perhaps not a lie at all, really.

  A pause. Neymar slumped onto the bed beside Abel, contemplative.

  “We can’t tell Madam Fenharrow about this.”

  Abel hid a relieved smile.

  “Of course.”