The stench of the back alley bar penetrates my nostrils as I stand in front of an all too familiar face. Alcohol, body odor, vomit, and rotting food reflects the unkept office I sit in. This place is a real dive. I always hated coming in here. Makes me feel like I need to scrub the top layer of my skin off with a wire brush just to get the stench out.

  I've been coming here since I was twelve, taking jobs here and there to earn credits and make ends meet. Someone in my household has to. With no parents, the responsibility falls to me.

  But as I look at my latest gig he's offered me, I can't help but raise my brow.

  "C'mon Banx. This the best you can do?" I ask the burley man in front of me, flaunting the piles of credits he has with the amount of tattoos inking his skin.

  He chuckles as he snaps his fingers. His body guards move from their stoic positions and walk toward me.

  "Sorry street rat, you bunked up too many for me before. What'd you think would happen?" He says with his thick, slow accent.

  My brow lowers as I let out a breath, turning to walk out the door to the night club, frustrated with my tarnished reputation. I stop at the bar and sigh, tapping the counter twice to indicate my need for their dark, muddy liquid they call alcohol.

  The bartender walks over to me and smirks as he pours a small amount in the glass. I pick the glass up and throw the burning drink back, slamming it back down on the counter and nodding for more.

  "I take it didn't go well." Camden says, pouring me another.

  I shake my head, grimacing and throwing the glass back again, choking down their shit tasting drink.

  "Nope." I say shoving the cup his way.

  He chuckles as he takes it and pushes it into the trough of used glasses behind the counter, coming back to lean on his elbow and watch the crowd of junkies flail around in a drunken stupor.

  "Sorry Ash. I know you were hoping for another chance." He says.

  I scoff, "It sucks too because those jobs we 'bunked up' were when Desmond and I were practically kids."

  "Yeah, you were only fourteen right?" He asks.

  I nod, wincing and looking away as I remember the pain of that run. Not only had my body been ripped apart, but I lost my best friend that night. It still hurts to think about.

  Cam shakes his head, "maybe it's time you found a new fence. Someone who'll dish out real jobs?"

  "You mean someone who won't call us street rats?"

  He scoffs, "he acts like he's upper terrace but he's ground terrace just like everyone else. Even his credit book can't hide the fact he's trash in the Feds eyes."

  "Yeah well even if I did want to track down another fence they wouldn't work with me. My name has been blacklisted everywhere thanks to that Jackass." I say.

  I sigh, dipping my face into my hands and dragging them down.

  "Hey, you'll be alright. You got a job at least." He says, tapping my arm with his fingertips.

  I lift my head and give him a sarcastic smirk, "trudging through the sewers full of shit and piss to track down some junkie for his debt is a job to you?"

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  He shrugs, "Ben needs his meds. Meds take credits. That job pays credits. A job's a job in my book."

  I let out a breath and look over to the crowd of scorched men and women navigating the floor to the botched music they have playing.

  "What if I don't have to take jobs on the streets anymore?" I ask.

  "What? Like you want to go work in the mines? You realize that's a death sentence right?"

  "No." I say looking at him plainly, "I mean what if I track down some revolutionaries. Try to join up."

  Cam heaves a breath and rolls his eyes, turning to grab a bottle of drink and pouring it in a mans glass.

  "This again?"

  "I know it sounds crazy." I say, putting a hand up.

  "Uh, yeah it sounds crazy." He says slamming the bottle on the shelf and returning to me, "you already tried this. Three times."

  "I know, I know, just hear me out."

  His head slumps down as he rolls his wrist and hand forward, allowing me to continue.

  "Look, I got my eye on some new guy I've never seen before-"

  "Oh no no no, are you thinking what i'm thinking? Cause if you are, I need you to stop thinking it." He says.

  "Hold on," I demand, "now if I can take him out, take his I.D., then maybe I can slip by their defenses. They'll never even know. I could integrate in with the new recruits after that. Easy."

  "You're trying to join the revolution by killing one of their members?" He asks.

  "Look if I don't do that, then I'll never make it in with them. You said it yourself, they've denied me three times now. I did everything I was supposed to do to find them. I found all their clues, ran a few gigs for them even. But they still refuse to take me all because of my name." I say, desperation lacing my tone.

  He looks away, conflicted with what to say.

  "Cam, if I don't do this, I'll lose Ben." I say.

  His eyes dart to me.

  "They have what he needs. Food, meds, clean clothes, clean place to sleep. Safety."

  "Yeah at the expense of what? Your life? Ash, if they deem he isn't useful after you die, they kick him back out on the streets. You know how cutthroat they are. He'll be on his own then."

  "And if I don't try, the same could happen anyways. I could die out here and he'll be on his own then too."

  Cam doesn't say a word. Instead, he seems to chew his own thoughts until he's ready to respond.

  "I'm his older sister. Mom and Dad aren't here to take care of him anymore. I have to try." I say.

  He heaves a sigh and pushes himself off the table to stand up straight. Crossing his arms and shaking his head, he gives me a disapproving look, "this is a stupid idea."

  "You can't stop me. I got nothing left." I say, feeling more defeated than ever.

  "If you get yourself killed, then I'll never forgive you." He says pointing a finger at me as I stand from the chair.

  I nod, "I know. I'll see you around yeah?"

  He nods once, "take it easy Ash."

  I turn and push my way through the crowd to the front doors, walking out to the streets and throwing my hood over my head. The humid heat smacks me in the face, the foulness of the mines drifting along in the breeze.

  Men on the sides of the streets roll in agony, desperate for another fix of whatever addiction has them in their clutches. 'Hook' is the drug of choice in Ground Terrace. Banx pushes that junk. He always likes to say 'once you're hooked, you never go back'. What an asshole.

  I look up through the brown, polluted fog to the floating city suspended above us. The honking of Aero Cars melting in with the bustling streets. I can barely make out the light of the grav emitters suspending the fourth terrace above our forgotten part of the city. I'm surprised I can even see the light. It's usually so dark and foggy living in the shadows of this forgotten part of our city Kardos.

  I maneuver through the crowded streets to the spider web like catwalks suspended above. Navigating the catwalks alone can be dangerous for someone not seasoned with it. Children shouldn't be allowed up here ever. Too many bodies below that 'fell' from these great heights warrant the caution. So when twelve year old me had to run routes on them, it earned some looks.

  I had been threatened somewhere along the line years ago. Desmond was with me. We couldn't have been much older than thirteen. Some Hook head scorched out of his mind trying to find some quick credits. He held his measly little knife at us, told us to empty our pockets. That's when Des reacted, threw him over the side without a second thought.

  I can still hear his body crashing to the ground. The sound of the bones snapping is something that appears in my dreams every now and again. It was our first kill. A scout for Banx had been following us, witnessed the whole thing. After that, Banx sent us on more along that route, and eventually got us to do collection gigs. Rough people up, collect what they owe, take care of them if they don't pay up. That sort of thing. After that, people don't really look at me anymore. They don't want the trouble.

  I find the split in the catwalks I'm looking for and study the path toward the sewers for a minute. Maybe I shouldn't try my luck. Cam wasn't necessarily wrong. If i'm caught by the revolutionaries, they'll put me to death for murder. Even if they don't, there isn't a guarantee that i'll make it through their trials. I'll need to change my name. Maybe change my appearance. They can't know who I really am.

  I sigh and look at the contract Banx gave me and almost turn toward the sewers. Killing someone just for their I.D. rips me apart. I don't like killing. I never have. But there have been plenty of times i've been left with no choice.

  I look up and let out a breath, steeling my emotions, turning them off completely like I have many times before. This time can be no different. I'm left with no other choice. I won't get enough credits for Ben's meds from this latest contract, mining isn't an option. Those funds don't come in for two weeks after you start. He needs them before tomorrow night. His illness will take him if i'm too late.

  I suck in a breath and crumple the contract in my hands, letting the air out through my nose and shoving my hands in my pockets. I take the left catwalk toward the area I've been seeing the revolutionary frequent recently.

  I got no other choice.