Chapter 11 - Rafael
Rafael trudges through the narrow alley, trailing Echo as she winds between piles of debris and tangled wire. A crack in the pavement catches his foot. He stumbles, scraping his fingers along a brick wall plastered with flickering holo tags.
“Watch your step, kid!” Echo calls, already ten paces ahead.
He forces a laugh and keeps his eyes on the ground until the alley widens into the main street.
Out here, the neighborhood looks far more like what he’s glimpsed from the medtruck.
Blocks of abandoned buildings and shuttered storefronts.
Half still carry sun-bleached logos and broken signs from before the Concord Eight forced them out.
The rest are painted over in green markings and handmade neon.
But around the corner are familiar sights in Midtown, from Terra’s High Speed Market to the Factura outlet.
Only, instead of corporate enforcers, two men in heavy armor and chrome enhancements stand guard outside. They wave at Echo as she passes and, to Rafael’s surprise, nod at him too.
At the end of the street, a group of children play at a holo chessboard in Smile Services school uniforms. Echo approaches them with a wide smile. “Hey, you rascals! Keeping out of trouble?”
The kids light up, abandoning the game to greet her. Rafael lingers, caught off guard by her warmth. In Midtown, people keep their heads down, eyes on their wristlinks. No one stops to say hello to random children.
Their conversation doesn’t last long. Echo falls into step again, carrying on down the street. “Ready to see the best of Shreveport?” she asks.
He jogs forward to catch up with her. “I guess.”
Until today, Rafael didn’t even know what neighborhood he was in. Like most of his friends and family, he barely knows Nova City beyond Midtown and downtown. Everything past that might as well be another world.
Echo’s laugh bounces off the walls as they enter a narrow tunnel between buildings. “I promise. You’ll love it, kid.”
He starts to answer, but a strange smell cuts him off. The scent is rich and flavorful, free of Terra’s usual afterbite. His stomach growls.
By the time they step out of the tunnel, the source is clear.
The small park has been swallowed by a makeshift marketplace, stalls packed so tight there’s barely room to move.
Neon signs pulse overhead of each, handmade and uneven.
Not a Terra Inc. logo in sight. Food vendors shout over the crowd, and the smell of frying oil wafts through the air.
His eyes widen. “What is this place?”
She waves for him to follow through the crowd. “Shreveport’s marketplace!”
“But…how is this possible? What about Terra’s?” Rafael whispers, staying close.
“All thanks to Baron,” Echo brags. “He’s got connections to underground farmers in the Rust Valley. As for Terra’s, I don’t think they know this place exists. And if they do, they probably don’t care. We’re just another bunch of slum dwellers. Not worth a fight.”
Rafael blinks, trying to reconcile this Kane with the one he met on his first night. First, he gives kids medical care then saves old men from fires. Now he feeds people? The contradictions keep piling up.
Echo elbows him. “Best part is? This is all real, authentic food. None of that synth garbage.”
His jaw falls slack. Rumors about “real” food in the slums—the Outer Districts have circled V-link for years. In Midtown, Terra’s synth meals replaced ingredients like that generations ago.
“Echo,” a familiar voice cuts through the noise. He peers over to see Wren coming toward them with a tentative smile. “What’re you guys doing here?”
Echo’s arm slips over his shoulder. “Introducing the kid to non-synth food. What about you?”
He tilts his head in agreement. Though the trip was entirely Echo’s idea when she showed up at the med bay during lunch.
“Same as you.” Wren holds up a box of steaming noodles, then turns to Rafael. “I take it you’ve never had anything outside Terra’s before.”
Rafael smiles, mouth already watering. “Never!”
Wren glances over Echo’s shoulder, and something shifts in her expression. “Baron’s here.”
Rafael’s spine goes rigid. But he turns to look anyway. His gaze drifts across the bustling stalls before settling on a familiar shape.
Under a flickering red “Nosh & Nibble” sits Kane alone at a stall. His auburn hair catches the light above, padded shoulders hunched over his meal.
“Let’s go say hi, huh?” Echo whispers in his ear. Before Rafael can answer, she’s already steering him toward the stall. Wren scurries after them, shouting something he can’t hear.
“Boss man!”
Kane doesn’t even flinch at the shout. He only turns, fixing them with a flat stare. “What do you want?”
“We’re so sorry, Baron,” Wren starts, stepping forward. “We’ll just—”
“What do you think we’re doing?” Echo cuts in, removing her hold on Rafael. Kane tracks the movement. “Grabbing a bite and showing the nurse around.”
The leader stares at them, his expression unreadable, then gestures to a nearby empty stool. “Rafael can stay. You two, I need a break from you.”
“Me?” Rafael’s stomach twists, unsure how he feels about being alone with the man right now.
“But, sir, we—”
Echo silences Wren’s protest with a gentle tug on her arm. “Come on, let’s give them some space.”
As soon as they’re out of earshot, panic surges in Rafael as he takes a seat. “I’m sorry,” he blurts, hands fidgeting at his sides. “We didn’t mean to barge in—”
Kane raises a hand, cutting Rafael off. “I know.” His tone is firm but not unkind. “But you want to eat here, right?” Rafael hesitates, then nods. “Then stay. I don’t care. I just wanted some time away from my crew.”
He frowns. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. Here. Take a look at the menu.”
A translucent tablet materializes in Rafael’s hands, projecting a spread of dishes and prices. He scrolls through them, still surprised by the lack of a Terra Inc. logo. Two items draw his attention, but hesitation creeps in. Who knows when he’ll get the chance to eat real food again?
“I can’t decide,” Rafael admits. His thumb hovers over the display. “Both sound good!”
The silence stretches, long enough that he dares a glance up. To his shock, there’s the faintest curve at the corner of Kane’s mouth. “Order both. My treat,” he declares.
Rafael gasps. “What? No, I couldn’t.”
“Just take whatever’s left to go,” Kane explains, swiping the menu from Rafael’s hands and tapping the items. “There, all done.”
He shouldn’t be comfortable accepting anything from the gang leader, least of all kindness. Yet the words leave before Rafael before he can think better. “Thank you, Kane.”
Kane clears his throat. “It’ll be here shortly. They’re not Hyper Food fast, but it’s better than the garbage they serve at any Terra’s.”
His nerves ease as a chuckle slips out. “I believe you. Not that I’ve ever eaten anywhere fancier than a Terra’s Bar and Grille.” Rafael pauses, then adds more quietly, “Always wanted to visit Tastebud Alley downtown, though. Heard it’s one of the best places to eat in the country.”
Admitting this feels strangely vulnerable, as if revealing more than a dining preference. But realizing how this might’ve sounded, Rafael cringes and blurts, “Best place for synth food, I mean! Sorry, I’m sure this place”—he gestures vaguely around them—“or anywhere here is better.”
Kane’s hand settles on his arm. The touch is brief, but Rafael startles at the unexpected contact, cool from the chrome but almost warm.
In an instant, Kane withdraws, stiffening in his seat.
“It’s fine. I know what you mean. I’ve heard the restaurants there are pretty good too, even if they’re all Terra’s. ”
Relief washes over Rafael. “Okay, good. I just—I just can’t believe this is all real.”
“Shreveport deserves more than it’s given,” Kane declares, turning to meet his eyes.
Rafael wasn’t expecting that. The certainty in Kane’s voice, the way he says it like it’s a fact. Against his better judgment, a strange admiration stirs.
A drone whirs to their table, breaking the moment. The machine drops off two steaming dishes, and Rafael leans in, taking a deep inhale.
“How does it look?” comes Kane’s deep voice beside him.
“Incredible!” Rafael immediately dives in, sampling from each plate. As the foreign but rich flavor settles in his stomach, he turns to beam up at him. “It tastes way better than it looks! I take back everything I ever said. Capital Prime has nothing on this.”
A hearty chuckle rumbles from Kane, a sound he’s never heard from the man. “Careful—you’ll give the owner a heart attack,” he teases, before returning to his breakfast.
For a moment, they eat in silence, the only sounds the hum of customers and the whiz of waiter drones buzzing by. Rafael focuses on the meal, trying to memorize every flavor, until Kane breaks the quiet.
“Look,” he begins, drawing Rafael’s gaze. His expression is soft, like when Echo first woke after her injury. “I never properly apologized for how we brought you here. It wasn’t fair, even if it was necessary. And…I’m sorry for keeping you longer than I should have. That’s on me.”
An apology is the last thing he imagined, especially from Kane. Wren apologized, Echo thanked him multiple times, but Kane always called his kidnapping “necessary.” Now, hearing this straight from the man who ordered this, Rafael’s gut tightens.
Part of him wants to accept it. But despite the apology, the truth remains. He’s not entirely free to leave.
He takes a deep breath. “I…appreciate it.” Maybe someday he’ll forgive Kane and his gang. But certainly not now.
Kane nods, taking a bite of his food. Rafael returns to his own, assuming the conversation is over until he speaks again. “Is this the only place you’ve visited in Shreveport so far?”
“Yeah,” Rafael replies after swallowing. His morning was spent organizing the medical bay, taking a long call with Lian, and chatting with his parents. They still believe he’s at VitaCorp downtown, part of the corporate project Coda made up. So far, the story’s held up.
“If you have time,” Kane starts, pushing his plate into the auto-clean slot on the counter. “You should visit the Glass Alley. It’s something of a traditional art installation. Tomorrow’s the last day it’s open.”
“Traditional?” Rafael blinks at him.
Kane nods. “It’s probably different from what you’re used to. That’s why it’s worth seeing.”
The gesture doesn’t go unnoticed, and despite himself, Rafael can’t help the small smile tugging at his lips.
“I’d like that,” he murmurs. “Are you stopping by then?” Heat rises to his cheeks as Rafel rushes to add, “Uh…just wondering if you ever get time for things like that. Between all your…duties.”
Something almost like surprise flickers across Kane’s face before his usual composure returns. “I don’t usually…” He straightens. “My schedule is unpredictable. I have—” His hand raises to tap his visor as he cuts himself off. “Baron.”
Rafael turns away, giving Kane privacy. He fixes his attention on the food, counting breaths until the heat leaves his face.
He shouldn’t have asked if Kane would be there. Echo or Pixie always handle escorts. It changes nothing. Still, the question lingers.
Kane keeps surprising him—too steady, too easy to speak to.
The gang leader shouldn’t feel like the only solid thing in this room. Not when Kane is the one holding the invisible key to his cuffs.
“En route.” Kane’s voice pulls him back to the present. “I have to go.” His green eyes behind the visor meet Rafael’s.
A knot twists in Rafael’s chest. Is someone in danger? Will Kane be walking straight into it? Probably not. Pixie would have the medtruck ready. So why is he so concerned?
“Okay,” he says, then adds softly, “Be safe.”
Kane’s brows knit together, but before Rafael can make sense of the emotion, Echo materializes at his side with Wren. “Gotta go, boss man?”
“Need backup?” Wren stumbles forward. “I can be there with—”
He shakes his head. “Not necessary.” The lieutenants nod, and Rafael’s gaze flicks to him. “I’ll be fine.”
Whether Kane’s words are for him or the others, a strange weight lifts as he watches the leader disappear into the crowd.
“Have a good chat?” Echo prompts, her arm wrapping around his shoulder again.
Rafael shrugs. “Yeah, I guess.” The honest answer surprises even him.