Chapter 31 - Kane
Kane soars high above enemy-territory rooftops, fingers clamped tight around the bike’s handles. The sting of Rafael’s decision still lingers, even this far from Midtown. But this is what he needs right now: to return home and focus on his crew.
His gaze drops as he reaches the edge of Shreveport. From up here, their hard-earned progress is visible in every reinforced holowall, every enforcer on patrol, every sharpshooter in position, and every drone in formation overhead.
This he can count on. A crew and lieutenants who give a damn about their neighborhood.
But it wasn’t always like this.
Back then, Shreveport was just another slum left to rot.
Blood splattered the pavement on every block while gunfire kept him awake at night, and the Butchers—or whoever ran the streets that month—collected fees door to door, pistols at the ready.
He would have to run home to beat the warning sirens rigged up by locals.
Once those blared, the safest place anyone could be was anywhere but the streets.
His uncle ended that. In Shreveport, at least. And so far, Kane and his crew have held the line.
As long as they can hold off Natural Order.
That thought alone kills whatever comfort the memory gave him.
Jaw tight, he veers toward the market. Normally, he’d swing by for a quick meal before patrol, but today his stomach twists at the idea.
He heads for the district anyway—then pulls up short mid-air.
The heat signatures on his HUD are far too low for this hour.
He drifts closer until the full marketplace comes into view. His shoulders tense.
Streets that should be packed lie empty. Shops that never close in daylight sit shuttered. Near the entrance, a spike in his thermal readout flashes. He angles his bike down, and the cause slams into focus.
His lieutenants stand rigid, facing a crowd linked arm-in-arm across the doorway. Among them are parents of recruits, elderly crew relatives, and long-time allies, forming a human barricade. Fists clenched and jaws set, they chant in unison while the same message pulses from their wristlinks:
[LANCERS NOT WELCOME ANYMORE.]
His teeth clench.
What the hell is this? Why didn’t they alert him about this?
Kane’s grip tightens as he drops out of the sky.
The trio below peer up in sync as the shadow of his HOV sweeps over them. The instant he hits the ground and steps off the bike, they close in, leaving the enforcers to push civilians back.
He doesn’t give them a chance to speak. “One of you.” He points first at them, then to the blockade. “Explain what the hell I’m looking at. Now.”
Wren flinches. Echo’s smile slips clean off her face. Even Coda—streaming in through her hovering drone—falls silent.
Viper’s posture is tense. He steps forward. “Natural Order embedded people among the locals. Converts. They’re spreading rumors that we push military-grade enhancements, forcing cyberware.”
“What?” The growl erupts from Kane, head snapping to scan the gathered protestors. There are too many faces for his overlay to flag them all.
“They’re claiming we force unnecessary combat upgrades, experimental tech,” Wren explains, her tone clipped.
Kane makes a fist. “Since when do they listen to Natural Order’s anti-tech bullshit? Half of them have medical implants and work assists themselves.”
“They’re accusing us of working with VitaCorp…” Wren’s voice lowers. “Because of…Rafael. Some of them swear they’ve seen meetings, supply drops. They brought in a fixer who swears he handled the deliveries.”
Kane’s shoulders stiffen. Whatever’s happening here—whatever the cause—no danger will fall to Rafael, regardless of how they ended. He’ll make sure they know he has no part in this.
Echo clears her throat. “Thing is, boss man…” She takes a breath.
“They’re also saying the crew changed after your uncle died.
That under him, we respected limits.” Her next words thin to almost nothing.
“Some are even alleging you…played a part in Duke’s death.
Which I know isn’t true. But old crew members and locals are backing the claims. For reasons I don’t understand. ”
His stomach churns. These people knew his uncle, honored him for clearing the Butchers out of this neighborhood. They mourned his death and backed Kane when he took the mantle. Or so he thought.
“We’re tracking these undercover operatives,” Coda cuts in. “Scanning drone footage and matching it against civilian data. But our network is drying up.”
“Yeah, same here. A couple of our usual contacts are backing off. Even my press rat guy won’t return any messages,” Echo adds.
Kane doesn’t acknowledge either of them. He strides for the gathering with his jaw set.
When he nears the entrance, the crew members part, making a path for Kane and the lieutenants behind him.
Shouts become whispers the moment he steps forward.
“You’ve all been fed lies!” Kane calls out. His gaze sweeps across them, stopping on a group of neighborhood kids. “You want to talk about corrupting children, forcing upgrades and tech on them?” He hooks a finger at his crew without looking away. “Pixie. Tell them when you joined us.”
Pixie steps out of the line. “Last year.”
“And since joining, have you felt pressured to get more cyberware?”
“No,” she answers.
Shouts break around him.
“She’s just a kid!” someone barks from the far side.
A woman near the front argues, “Probably scared into saying that!”
“What about the others?!” echoes a man, waving his arm.
Kane’s eyes narrow. He raises a hand, and the crowd goes silent.
Glancing over his shoulder, he gestures for Jamal over by the medtruck. When the medic reaches them, Kane pivots to face him. “Can you back up what we’ve done medically? How often do we actually approve enhancements for our crew members?”
Jamal eyes the group. “We maintain detailed records of all procedures. Every upgrade is voluntary or medically necessary.” He checks a holopad in his hands. “The average rate of additional cyberware within the first five years is ten percent per new member.”
Murmurs roll through the crowd.
Someone near the center scoffs. “Ten percent? Still sounds too high!”
“You think these numbers make it okay?
“You expect us to just…take your word for it?” another person yells.
“Where’s the proof?”
“Jamal can provide you with this data. With personal information redacted,” Kane bellows over them. “Or you can speak to the crew members directly. Get the truth straight from the source.”
Some glares soften. A few stances ease. The noise sinks into low, uneasy murmurs.
Then an older female cries, “What about VitaCorp? Thought you weren’t working with the corps!”
“They brought in that nurse, didn’t they?” an elderly man demands. “Was he a spy or not?”
Dark curls. Brown eyes. The memories flash before Kane can stop them. His jaw tightens. Behind him, he catches the shift in Echo’s stance.
“Dr. Hayashi and her team severed ties with VitaCorp decades ago,” he says, enunciating each word. “No contact. No allegiance. Nothing. And the nurse is far from a spy. He was a medic who stepped up when no one else could.”
He gives them a heartbeat to process, whispers and murmurs echoing near the front. But Kane needs to set the rest of the record straight.
“And as for the rumor that I had a hand in my uncle’s death…” His voice hardens. “Nothing could be further from the truth. I wasn’t informed of the deal that went bad. I wasn’t even there. Neither was Echo.”
His lieutenant breaks from the line. “It’s true.” Echo’s tone is uncharacteristically serious. “I was benched with an injury that took my leg. Didn’t know anything was happening…until it was too late.”
Kane nods once. “Need confirmation? Coda can pull the security logs from that night.” He jerks his chin toward the hovering drone projecting her feed.
The muttering falters. A few residents lower their wrists, holo-signs dimming out. Others trade uneasy glances.
That doesn’t mean he backs off.
“While you’re questioning our presence here—our loyalty—” Kane sweeps a hand over the street, over those he’s been protecting since he was barely old enough to drive.
“Remember who stood between you and that Smiles Services raid six months ago. Who keeps Ulvepack and Natural Order from turning these blocks into war zones. Who makes sure your roads stay walkable and your markets stay stocked with real food.”
The crowd goes silent. No cheers, no shouting. Only when Kane turns away do they move. His crew closes in behind him.
Enforcers peel off to their posts. Wren’s squad mounts their HOVs. Drones rise into the air again, slipping into their usual patrol patterns.
The three lieutenants and Coda’s drone stay flanked at his sides until Kane reaches the end of the block, well away from the market’s entrance yet within sight to watch the group scatter.
Except not everyone leaves.
A small cluster lingers, exchanging glances and words Kane can’t quite catch. They slip into the alleyway and disappear before his readings flag them as anyone but strangers.
Echo breaks the quiet. “Most of them seemed convinced.”
“Others weren’t,” Viper counters.
Kane doesn’t answer. After a breath, he faces his lieutenants with a frown.
“Why wasn’t I told about this?” he hisses. “The rumors, the converts, the propaganda—how long has this been going on?” How long has Athena been turning them against him? “I want answers. Now.”
“My squad didn’t know until today.” Wren’s words come rushing out. “The civilians were quiet, showed no signs until now.”
Kane clenches his teeth. He gave Wren a chance to prove herself, to take on more responsibility. And this is how she handled it?
“I don’t want excuses.” His gaze narrows, ignoring the jump in her vitals on his overlay. “From now on, I assign patrol routes, schedule all runs, and any civilian conflicts come through me first. And I want daily reports by 7 a.m. Understood?”
Her eyes drop before snapping up, expression hardening. “Yes, sir!”
“Hold up,” Echo interrupts, blinking at him. “What about our whole talk—about not running things like this anymore—”
His bitter laugh cuts her off. “I tried being flexible, letting you all take the reins.” Kane tried being something other than the Chrome Baron.
“And what did we get? Natural Order and Athena whispering lies until half the district started doubting us. All because you couldn’t see what was happening right under your damn noses. ”
“This isn’t on us. No one could’ve predicted a social warfare,” Viper fires off.
“You couldn’t.” Kane folds his arms. “That’s why I’m in charge.” He knows about Athena’s sharp tongue, her ability to rally anyone who listens to pick up arms. “From now on, everything goes through me—patrols, defensive maneuvers, potential deals, security measures. Everything.”
Silence stretches between them, stances shifting, but their readings in his HUD say everything: Viper’s pulse climbing, Echo’s cortisol surge flashing yellow, Wren going flatline-calm, even Coda’s projection rigid at the edges.
A flicker of guilt surfaces. He shuts it down fast.
This is the kind of leader Shreveport needs. The kind his uncle was. The kind who didn’t waver—until he did.
No one moves. No one speaks. Kane’s patience thins. “Understood?”
Echo shrugs. “Sure thing, boss man.”
Viper and Coda offer curt nods. Wren gives a strained, “Yes, Baron.”
“Return to your posts.”
The trio break apart, scattering to their assigned routes. Kane watches them go, tension in his gut. He ignores it, dropping his gaze to his wristlink to scan the flood of notifications.
Movement from the marketplace pulls his attention back. Booths are reopening, with customers lining up in a frenzy. Kids weave between the carts on HOV boards older than their parents.
Shreveport is returning to normal. The weight in his chest loosens slightly.
A flash of red interrupts his peace, the Nosh & Nibble sign flickering on. The same place where he and Rafael shared their first meal.
He crushes the memory and strides toward his bike.
He never should’ve let himself believe there was room for someone like Rafael in his life.
Not with the neighborhood on the edge, his crew under threat, and Athena still out there.