Cold… that was the only thing Solonar could feel as his mother's blood seeped into the cracks of the alleyway.
Tears trickled down his cheeks as he stared at the morbid scene—four lifeless bodies sprawled across the concrete. Five, if you counted hers.
***
A few days earlier
"Hey kiddo, I'm off to work. Don't stay up too late for me, alright?" Misty said softly, nudging the blanket-covered figure on the couch. No response—but she knew he was awake. She always did.
"I know you're upset," she continued, her voice laced with motherly warmth. "But you know I have to work."
Solonar stirred, his stubborn silence cracking. He turned toward her, catching those hazel eyes—sharp, mesmerizing, framed by light makeup and a touch of red lipstick. She looked radiant, dangerous, and heartbreakingly familiar.
"Just promise me you'll be careful," he said, voice low and tight. "It's not safe out there."
"You know it's not safe anywhere," Misty replied with a soft laugh, trying to lighten the mood. But the truth in her words only deepened his worry.
"Just promise me," he said again. "Tomorrow is… 'the day'. Remember?"
She paused, hand on the doorframe. "Alright. I promise. And you—get some sleep. Only people sixteen and up get taxed, remember?"
Solonar swallowed. The words hung between them like rent notices and forcefield hums. The city took a cut of what people stored in their emocores every collection day; that energy fed the walls which kept the beasts at bay.
'Doesn't help that I'm turning sixteen next year.' he thought, forcing a smile he didn't feel.
Misty's mouth tightened for a second—an expression that meant more than a private thought could say—then she forced the same worn smile she gave clients. She moved toward the door, heels clicking softly on the floor. Just as she reached for the handle—
"Your coat!" Solonar called out, his voice rising slightly, cheeks flushed.
Misty glanced down at her outfit—a black, tight-fitting crop top with a plunging neckline and a mini-skirt that clung to her curves. It left little to the imagination, but she wore it like armor: bold, unapologetic, and necessary.
It was a treat for sore eyes to some, Solonar hated how much attention it drew—how it made her a target in a world that didn't care.
He knew she wore it for work, for survival. But all he saw was danger stitched into every seam.
Misty's gaze shifted from her outfit to his face. The worry etched into his features warmed her heart. He didn't see her as an object of pleasure—he saw her as a mother. And that meant everything.
For Solonar's sake, she grabbed the coat from the hook and draped it over herself.
She smiled at him—tender, tired, and full of something unspoken—and stepped into the night.
Solonar watched her go, dread curling in his chest. A few days ago, another woman in her line of work had been found dead. No suspect. No leads. Just silence.
Although Solonar was smart enough to realize the silence from law enforcement could be due to the fact they weren't actually looking for the suspect because the victim was a tier 3 citizen — the lowest of the low in their eyes and the classist system they had put in place made that very evident.
Solonar and Misty were both tier 3 citizens as well, they lived in the outer city like the rest of the Tier 3 citizens.
The tiers marked social status—but for most tier 3 citizens, they were shackles.
Sin City was built like a target—three circles, each one tighter than the last—much tighter.
Tier 1 citizens lived in the center of the city while tier 3 citizens lived in the outer-most edges and the tier 2 citizens lived in-between; they were the middle class.
Solonar looked out the window of their small apartment toward the dark night sky with uncertainty in his eyes.
Reluctantly, he went to bed.
*Somewhere in the middle city*
"Hey misty—good to see you again.", a bald-headed man said in a loud cheerful tone as he saw the approaching figure of a particular blonde woman.
The neon sign that read: "The blue cherry" cast a soft glow unto his face.
"You see me almost every night James." Misty said with a polite smile on her face, as she walked to the front of the line of people waiting to get into the night club.
"I see you almost every night, and I'm happy each time." James said, returning a wide grin to misty.
Keeping a smile on her face, she began walking past James, he blocked her path slightly— standing in front of her, but Misty didn't panic.
James lowered his head slightly and whispered into Misty's ear; "someone from the inner city is inside, y'know it's not every time we see their kind around here, be careful." James said with slight worry in his tone, he moved out of the way and let her continue walking into the club, with a stern expression on his face he resumed his duty as the security guard of The blue cherry.
'The inner city, it's been a while...' Misty thought to herself, the loud club music slowly rose in volume as she got closer.