Chapter 6
ROGUE
Kit ran down the dark streets. He did not tire. He did not grow hungry nor thirsty.
One sharp breath in, one sharp exhale. Boots thudding against the snow-covered pavement, hopping over cracks and dips.
A roar echoed in the distance.
Without breaking pace, he reached up and activated the enhanced optics on his night vision glasses, staring out into the trees lining the lonely road between Solar City and Lunar City.
Through the trees, a Rogue ran on all fours, straight toward him. Teeth glinted. Black eyes burned green through his optics. A targeting reticle snapped into place over the Rogue.
A kill order.
Kit’s breath warmed his face beneath his mask.
Just before the Rogue broke through the treeline, Kit slid to a stop, his boots carving a long trail through the snow. He turned to face the forest.
His orders were still there, only slightly hindered by the night vision.
Return to the base. Return to the—
One breath in.
The Rogue burst through the treeline, leaping midair. An upperlevel. Its body was armored in jagged stone, with spikes jutting outward.
It tipped its head back and bayed, paws scratching against the snow before charging.
Kit dodged right before impact. The Rogue was too large to stop cleanly. It crashed into the snow, but by the time it turned, Kit was already moving.
They collided.
Kit seized one of the rocky spines and twisted, using the strength of his right arm. The Rogue roared.
Stone cracked. Dust fell as Kit tore its front paw free and hurled it into the trees.
The Rogue collapsed, off-balance, its blood staining the snow.
It bayed as Kit stalked closer, reaching for the soft spot beneath its neck.
For one moment, the monster looked up at Kit with its black eyes, its limb gone—and it reminded him of himself. He understood, then. A corrupted Soul. Forced to be what it had been turned into.
He felt nothing.
Kit plunged his fingers into the monster’s vulnerable flesh. He felt a strange lump. He wrapped his hand around it and yanked it free.
The Rogue fell still as Kit lifted his blood-slick hand. A rocky orb rested in his gloved palm. Smooth yet firm. He held it up to his eyes and rubbed his thumb over the blood on it, seeing a faint glow within.
Kit cocked his head. "Curious."
He placed the rock in his pocket and ran again, leaving the dead Rogue far behind as he stalked his true prey.
Eight letters. Three vowels. Five consonants.
Lunar City’s dark, seedy streets greeted Kit.
He’d tucked away the night vision glasses but kept his mask.
The streets swarmed. Scantily clad women, dangerous men. Their faces blended into a mass of nothing. Blurs. Shapes. Colors.
His head pounded.
Too much.
Smoke rose from a stairwell, disappearing beneath the street. A flickering neon sign read: Salli’s Smoke Shack.
Kit paused in the middle of the street, the plumes of dark smoke choking him. Bodies shoved past him.
A woman knocked into his elbow, giving him a dark look. "Hey—" she started, nails sharpened into silver-tipped claws like knives stuck to the tips of her fingers. She froze when she met his eyes, shaking her head as she backed off.
Another body hit him. He didn’t move. Something poked his right arm.
"What the fuck?"
Kit turned in time to see a man slowly pull his hand away from where he’d touched Kit’s elbow. The fingers of Kit’s prosthetic curled into a fist, poised for a fight.
Kit felt a cold danger spark, even as the constant loop of orders threatened to distract him. Return to the base. Re—
The man took a small step back, the neon lights illuminating his many silver facial piercings. "You okay, man?"
"Okay?" Kit echoed. Was he?
Not until he found her.
The man dissolved into the crowd, done with waiting for Kit’s answer.
Kit shouldered his way through the crowd. Where was she?
He had tracked her here, to Lunar City. After she’d disappeared into the Soul Searcher’s strange portal, Kit had traced her footsteps through the snow, finding the spot where they disappeared.
Shadows on the ground, in the snow. Then, dark footsteps pressed into the snow from nowhere, picking up where her tracks had ended.
He followed them until he had found himself at a decrepit parking garage in Solar City.
A corner store’s broken welcome sign had illuminated the dark streets.
The dark shadows of an unlit, broken lamppost had offered a perfect hideaway.
Until his gloved fingers had been frozen stiff, and frost clung to his lashes, he stood—until a dark vehicle emerged from within, and the shadowed footsteps had reappeared, trailing after the vehicle.
A roar snapped him back to the present. Laughter. A lowlevel Rogue backed into a corner near an alley. Men stood around it with long rods, electricity crackling at the end.
"Kill the fucker!" one shouted.
"No—capture it and sell its parts on the markets. You really want to pass on the cash?"
The Rogue shrieked as the rods jabbed into its side.
Kit stared at the blue flash of electricity. His chest tightened.
Where he stood at the mouth of the alley, he caught the attention of the group. One man swung around, the rod pointing at Kit. "The fuck are you looking at?"
The electric hum drowned him. His fingers twitched. One step forward.
Return to the base.
Kit stopped. He wanted Vesperin. Killing them would delay him.
He left the alley.
Eyes followed him as he prowled. Whispers, flinches. He was drawing attention.
Too many voices, too much chaos.
Kit’s fingers spasmed. Eight letters. Three vowels. Five consonants.
Vesperin. Vesperin.
He realized he was speaking aloud when a man with deep brown hair and a golden ring in his nose gave him a narrowed-eyed look. "Are you trying to hit on my girl?" He wrapped an arm around the woman at his side, her dark hair falling around her shoulders in thick curls.
Kit’s senses flickered, caught on something sharp and compelling. They were both magnetic—out of place here. Even the way he spoke was out of place, as if the words were a facade.
The woman scoffed. "Like I’m your girl. I don’t belong to anyone. Let’s go." She reached for the man’s collar and hooked her finger in it, drawing him into Salli’s Smoke Shack.
Kit paused—how had he found himself back here?
She turned back to meet Kit’s eyes, biting her lip. "You should come. Streets only get worse as the night wears on. You’d better learn fast. Or hide." She didn’t wait for Kit’s reply.
Kit followed her inside, cringing from the sudden influx of noises and scents.
Colorful smoke wafted from fizzing tubes along the wall. The woman sat alone at the bar.
Kit walked to her. This close, he saw the purple in her eyes.
"You are a succubus," Kit stated, understanding his strange draw to her. But he was disinclined; everything was muted. The feelings she evoked were nothing compared to the thrill of the hunt for his true prey.
The succubus tapped a finger on the counter without breaking away from his eyes to draw the bartender’s attention. A man with silver spikes jutting from above his pierced brow slid a smoking glass down the slick bartop.
She pressed her finger to the glass and slid it further to Kit. "For you." She nodded to the empty stool at her side.
He didn’t take either.
"What did you mean, learn fast or hide?" Kit spoke slowly, tasting the words on his tongue and the heady scent in the smoky air of the bar.
The succubus rested her chin on her hand.
"You’re not from around here. It’s obvious.
The Rogues are the least of your worries in Lunar City.
You stick out like a sore thumb." She waved a hand to a table, where her companion with the deep brown hair threw down a stack of cards, a cigar dangling from his lips.
"If he can pick up on it, you’re sure as shit in a hell of a lot of trouble. "
"How do you know?"
"Let’s just say like draws to like. I’m not exactly from around here either. Business brought me here, you could say. The Earthen government is no fucking joke. One misstep"—she cut her hand over her throat—"and say bye-bye freedom."
Kit’s stomach clenched as he stared at the bartender, who slid a basket of greasy fries and red, thick ketchup down the bar. He licked his lips. "What do I do?"
The succubus laughed. "You’re asking me?" She followed his stare to the food, then waved her hand to the bartender, flicking her eyes to the basket of fries. "First, you should go do something about… all of that." She gestured to Kit’s entire form.
A steaming basket of thick fries was placed on the bartop before him. She reached for one, pushing the basket to Kit. Slowly, he took one with his right hand, feeling nothing through his gloves as he brought the fry to his mouth. The salty taste filled an ache he wasn’t aware he had.
"Your clothes," she mumbled with a full mouth. "Go figure that out. Or else you’ll find yourself in pieces—and sold. Or worse, the fighting rings. You’d do well in the Rogue fights, though."
Kit snarled as the succubus reached for his arm, where his fingers hovered over the basket. Her alluring magic pulled at him.
"Do not try to lure me, succubus. I will rip you apart," Kit said.
Without another word, he grabbed the basket of fries and left, ignoring the bartender’s calls. "Hey, asshole! Leave the basket!"
Clothes. Kit needed clothes.
The attendant turned over the sign to Closed and stepped outside, locking the door behind her. She was an old woman with weathered skin and hunched shoulders. Kit wasn’t fooled by her appearance.
He was proven right when she pulled pepper spray and brass knuckles from her cardigan pocket and disappeared down the street.
Kit waited until she was gone and the streets fell quiet. As quiet as any street in Lunar City could be.
Rogues howled somewhere in the distance, and snow fell lazily, melting as it touched the cracked pavement.
Balconies with bloated railings hung over the narrow streets. The scent of burning meat and vegetables lingered in the air.