In Nucrea, everyone had responsibilities designated to their families. If your father was a builder or fixer, you apprenticed with him and that is what you did. If your mother was a baker, a weaver, or a grower, then that is what you learned to do.
If you didn’t want to be stuck with your parent’s occupation, you only had three options. Some kids wanted to be soldiers in the Nucrean Guard, and if they were skilled enough, they could become a part of the small privileged group of Elites. There were only a few openings each year, which seemed to go to the same social classes, but every once in a while someone from the other classes was given a chance.
Second, if you made the right friends and played the social game well enough, you could get into the Consulate, but unless you were born into a family already in a more privileged position, the odds were always heavily against you. This was the system, and the majority just accepted their fate and stuck with what the Council deemed was their heritage.
Lastly, and the most glorious way out of the system, was to become a Runner. Runners were the heroes in Nucrea. They were the ones who broke the mold the hard way. They were the warriors that chose to go outside of the safety of Nucrea, and stare death in the face. You could make a small fortune, and if you survived long enough, you might be able to spend it and make a name for yourself. That was the catch though; you had to learn how to survive the elements of the Fringe, and avoid being killed by Fringers, ungodly beasts, and even some of the other Runners.
“So, you really killed those Fringers?” Wince asked.
Jens felt uncomfortable, thinking about the answer.
“Yep,” Puck boasted. He looked around to make sure no soldiers were nearby, and then lifted his shirt to show off the old revolver Lilly had found in the factory. “Two shots, two kills. Nun said he was proud of me. Said I’m gonna be the best.”
“Cept your dad of course,” Jens added.
“I’m talkin’ about the younger ones, dumbass.”
Jens tried to hide his embarrassment, realizing how stupid his comment seemed now, but Tom was happy someone else was the target for once.
“What’d it feel like? You know… when you kilt em,” Wince asked, trying to take Puck’s attention away from Jens.
Puck closed his eyes and savored the false memory. “Like you have all the power in the world.”
“You gonna join the insurgents?” Tom asked, loudly.
Puck quickly pulled his shirt back over the revolver. The boys got tense and looked around to see if anyone had heard what Tom had said. Wince stepped up to Tom as if he was going to stuff him in a hole somewhere.
“Shut it, Tom! You wanna get shot next?” Puck said as he pushed his way in front of Wince. He pointed over his shoulder at two guards who were making their way through the market.
“One of those guards hear you talk like that and they’ll send you to the Fringe.” Puck poked him in the chest and got in his face. “And there’s no way you would make it. Your dad didn’t survive and neither would you, so shut your mouth.”
Tom’s dad was a runner. He had taken an open contract a year ago, but never came back. Tom put up with the bullying and the normal boy stuff, but talking about his dad was something else.
“Don’t… talk… about my dad,” Tom said with a dark tone the other boys didn’t recognize.
“What are you gonna do?” Puck sneered.
Puck had a crazy switch, and that switch had turned on now. He was the spitting image of his dad, but this was when he resembled him most. A violence driven sociopath, with nothing but cruel intent behind his eyes.
Jens and Wince stepped closer to intervene, partly so Puck wouldn’t do something he would get put away for, and partly so Tom wouldn‘t die. Tom was weak, but they liked him.
“Don’t be like that, Puck. He didn’t mean anything by it,” Wince said, being the only one that could hold his ground with Puck.
Lilly followed the tracks to the northeastern edge of the city, and recognized where they led. She didn’t need to keep going. Everyone, Runners that is, knew who lived in Freetown and whose tire tracks those were.
She dropped the transport off at the dock and left without talking to Nun. That would most likely upset him, but she only had one thing on her mind. She could work out the payment for the transport later.
Lilly shoved her way through the sea of people. She gracefully dodged the wild hand of a man disagreeing over the quality of an item, but knocked a woman’s basket of clothes to the ground.
“Hey!” The woman screamed.
Lilly didn’t stop to help, or even acknowledge the woman existed, as her target finally came into view.
Tom went from looking like the next victim of one of Puck’s sociopathic fits, to a potential witness of some glorious act of vengeance. His uncharacteristically menacing grin was visible over Puck’s shoulder.
“What?” Puck snapped.
“Hey, Puck!”
Puck turned his head to look behind him as Lilly broke through the crowd. Everything disappeared behind her fist. A bright light flashed, followed by darkness. His ears rang and he felt something ram into his side, knocking the wind out of him. He realized it was the ground, as the side of his head hit next. The iron taste of blood and embarrassment filled his mouth. He panicked. He could hear the sounds of the market, but couldn’t see anything. He thought he could hear Wince yelling something, but couldn’t hear anything clearly.
Finally, air. He coughed as dust and blood filled his airway. The pain in his face began to set in as his vision cleared the rest of the way.
Damn she hits hard.
Lilly just stood above him, as if she was waiting for him to do something. He fumbled for the revolver, and managed to pull it free, Lilly’s face focused dead center in the gun’s sights. She stepped back and laughed as she raised her hands.
“Don’t shoot! Please, Puck!” Lilly mocked.
He looked at his friends. He would never live down being knocked on his ass by a girl, sucker punch or not, but the fact that she knew his gun wasn’t functional infuriated him the most.
Defeated, Puck’s arm went limp and dropped the revolver. He looked at her pistol and the electrical A9 strapped to her chest and knew they were both definitely functional.
“I should kill you for stealing my score,” Lilly said as she pulled her pistol free of its holster and pointed it at Puck. “It’s sad that you didn’t have the balls to try and take it the proper way, ‘cause that I could’ve respected. But, tazing me from behind? I thought your pa would’ve taught you better.”
“Whatever,” Puck hissed through a bloody mouth.
He spit out blood and started to get up, as Lilly stepped forward and reemphasized that she had a gun. “No need to get up. I’ll just take what’s mine and be on my way.”
Puck sat back down and considered rushing her, but decided against it as Lilly’s face went cold.
“Please, give me a reason,” Lilly warned. She glanced at Wince who had started to move toward her.
“You stay right there, blondie.”
Lilly looked back at Puck. “The Pigeon.”
Puck was furious, but this was Lilly, and he knew it was a good possibility that she would shoot. He pulled back his sleeve and released the Pigeon strap, letting it fall to the ground.
Lilly moved forward and picked it up, while still aiming her pistol at his face. She held her face close for a moment just to add some emphasis, then slid it into her bag and motioned for him to hand over the revolver too.
“Gun,” she said calmly as if he didn’t understand her initial gesture.