I woke up.
Not from a dream. Just from existing too long in the same spot.
My ribs hated me. My spine hated me. Even the side of my face was pissed off from sleeping on concrete.
But something was different.
It was warm.
Not like, heat-lamp warm. Real warm. Sun warm.
And it was… bright.
I cracked open one eye. Just enough to catch the glare pouring over the alley's broken edges.
Not red. Not dim. Not choked through smoke and filter-cloud.
Actual sunlight.
White and gold.
Alive.
"...Huh..."
I sat up slowly. My back popped. My neck cracked. Everything else just groaned like it wanted to go back to rotting.
My first thought was that I died.
Maybe that weird whisper from the Reapers last night finally meant something.
But the Bonecord still hummed under my skin.
So no. I was alive.
Unfortunately.
I leaned out from behind the dumpster and squinted at the sky.
Clear.
Whole.
Where I'm from, Dregmoor, the sun never looks like that. It always, orange and smothered by whatever shit floats in our sky. No one gets bright light there. Just permanent orange.
But here, in Vicarria?
It's like the sun actually matters.
I stepped into it. Careful. Like it might notice me and disappear.
Then I felt it. A tug on my arm.
Bonecord.
It pulsed once. Not in pain. Not a warning.
Just... curious.
I looked down.
There was something poking out of the dumpster beside me. Thin. Shimmering slightly. Draped over the edge like it didn't belong in there.
I stared at it.
"...What the hell is this?" I muttered.
It didn't look like trash. It looked deliberate.
Like someone left it there just for me.
"Yeah... Totally."
I reached out and touched it.
It stuck to my fingers. Not like glue, more like... gravity. Like it wanted to be picked up.
The Bonecord flared the second I touched it.
"Hell no," I said. But I didn't let go.
I pulled it free. It came out in a long roll. Soft as silk. Cold as metal.
"What is this?"
No answers, of course.
I stood there, street empty, arm still burning. The fabric buzzed faint in my hand.
I don't know why I did it, but I started wrapping it around my arm. Around the Bonecord.
Tight. Clean. From wrist to shoulder.
The second it finished, everything stopped.
The Bonecord went quiet.
My arm
My arm felt... normal.
Like it wasn't bone-strung hell-flesh anymore. Like something had muted it. Contained it.
I flexed my fingers. For the first time since it showed up, my own hand actually felt like mine.
"Holy shit..."
I turned my arm over. Then again.
Wrapped. Sleek. Faintly glowing veins in the fabric. Same white tone as the Bonecord, but paler. Duller.
"Did I just... sedate it?"
A long silence.
No answers.
But I could breathe easier.
I didn't question it more. I knew better.
If the world gives you something decent, you don't spit on it. You keep walking before it changes its mind.
So I did.
Down through Vicarria proper. The rich part of town. Cleaner than anything I'd ever seen. Not a single cracked sidewalk. No peeling walls. Cars that purred instead of screamed.
I passed boutique shops, glassy towers, security drones overhead, and people who looked at me like I pissed on their lawn.
I kept going.
Because I didn't care.
And because the Bonecord was finally asleep.
I caught my reflection in a window.
Still a mess.
But a better kind of mess.
And that's when I saw her.
The car rolled past slow. Some black luxury thing with gold trim. Like a hearse, but richer.
Myla.
In the back seat.
Head down.
Hood over her eyes.
I almost looked away.
Then her eyes flicked up.
Right at me.
For half a second.
We locked eyes.
And everything stopped.
She didn't smile. Didn't wave.
Just stared.
Like she didn't know me.
Like I wasn't supposed to be here.
Then the car was gone.
And I was alone again.
"...I feel like I'm supposed to care..."
I stared after it for a while.
The Bonecord twitched.
Just once.
Then went still.
"Oh well." I said to myself.
I made my way back to my burger. And I think that drink had something in it. Because I feel energized.
My limp isn't too bad now. Not perfect. But manageable.
I make my way back to where I left the burger. Just a sad little fast food pile on the curb.
And I see it.
"My food..." I mumble.
Some mangy dog—bony thing, half fur, half regret—has its nose buried in the wrapper. The patty's gone. Just crumbs and grease left.
I drop to my knees.
"No... no no no no no—"
The dog looks up, bun hanging from its teeth.
I point.
"You son of a—"
The mutt takes off with the rest of it.
I stare at the trail of wrapper bits in disbelief.
"My last meal..."
I stand there for a minute. Processing. Mourning.
Then I throw a crumpled napkin in the direction it ran.
"Hope you choke on it!"
The wind blows the napkin back at me.
"...Cool."
Eventually, I wander again. No destination. Just existing forward.
I end up in downtown Vicarria. Big place. Shiny. Too clean.
I pass some tourist info screen blaring ads. Flashy lights. Augmented faces. Then a sign:
"PUBLIC BATHS — EAST HALL"
Beneath it: two symbols. One blue. One pink.
Stick figures.
I stare.
"Male. Female," I read.
Then look at the male symbol.
"Nah. Don't like guys."
I shrug and step into the girls' side.
It's warm inside. Smells like flowers and shampoo.
And nakedness.
A handful of women stop mid-conversation and stare.
Dead silence.
I stare back.
Blank expression.
"...Huh. Human skin is real weird when it's clean."
I tilt my head.
Then a bar of soap hits me square in the forehead.
"Pervert!" one shouts.
Another throws a towel at me. I catch it.
"Okay okay okay. Chill. I'm going."
I walk calmly out.
"Nice work on the symmetry though," I mutter.
A worker in a white uniform catches me mid-exit.
He grabs me by the back of the neck and shoves me toward the men's side.
Inside is quieter. Empty, mostly. Just old tiles and hot water.
I grab five bottles of body wash.
Don't even read the labels. I use all of them.
By the end, I smell like a fruit orgy.
But I'm clean.
First time in years.
I find a thing called "Lost and Found" , half-open plastic bin near the lockers.
Inside?
A dark gray sleeveless hoodie. Slightly oversized. Hood drapes down low over the eyes.
Some beat-up black pants. Good fit.
Boots. Scuffed but solid.
A single fingerless glove.
I put it all on. I look in the mirror.
Still me.
"Only idiots leave clothes lying around." I state
I head out again. Sunset starting.
Crowds move slower now. Market noise softens. I wander through alleys and open plazas.
Pass a few food stalls. Some tech peddlers. One old guy offers to sell me a "reaper-summoning incense."
I flip him off.
Then stop.
Something catches my eye.
Way above.
A man.
Standing on the edge of a building. Coat whipping in the wind.
I squint.
"Idiot's gonna jump."
He does.
And vanishes before he hits the ground.
I blink.
"...Okay."
I keep moving.
Evening settles. Orange again. Almost like Dregmoor.
I see her.
Myla.
She's by a tall car. Shiny. Looks expensive.
She's talking to someone. Doesn't see me yet.
I stop walking.
Then her eyes flick toward me.
We lock eyes again.
But something's different.
Her face tightens. Barely. Just a twitch.
She turns back to the man she's talking to. Nods. Then climbs into the car.
Doors shut. It pulls off slow.
I don't move.
Ten minutes later, I do.
Another alley. Another shortcut.
Then I hear it.
Buzzing.
Not a drone.
Worse.
V.E.I.L. units.
Black armor. Yellow visors. Humming weapons. No voice. No warning.
A dart hits me in the neck.
Electric venom tears through my spine.
I hit the wall.
Then the floor.
One last thought before it all fades:
"...Of course it's electricity..."
Then nothing.