Sham received many a strange look as he walked towards the tram stop with Riot slung over his shoulder. Not that he could blame anyone; if anything, he was surprised when nobody tried to stop him, as worrying a situation at it was. The people of Haven, Sham supposed, had enough shit going on in their own lives that they didn’t feel like getting involved in anyone else’s.

When the tram arrived, he was pleased to see seats available—a rare treat in his experience, but how often was he taking the trams in this part of the city? And at this time of night? Sham placed Riot gently down on the seat next to him, and positioned her head on his shoulder, to look as though she was sleeping. The wary looks soon subsided, and he could complete the journey without fear of concerned bystanders interfering.

‘H…’ Riot suddenly started, stirring back into semi-consciousness.

‘What?’

‘Hospital,’ she finally croaked, beginning to pull her head away from him.

‘Shh,’ Sham replied, talking gently and waving for Riot to rest her head back down again. ‘Can’t go there, now, can we? Legion might find you there.’

‘But I… need help…’ The words were soft, barely audible. Some might even have described her voice as weak.

‘Yeah. I know. I’m getting you help, just… not anywhere like that.’

Silence for a moment. Sham thought Riot might have passed out once more. But then, ‘Where?’ she breathed.

‘A… a friend,’ Sham answered. ‘Though I don’t know how pleased he’ll be to see me.’

Sham cringed at his answer; thought such a mystery might engage Riot’s mind, might make her question him. But no argument came. None came, in fact, because he’d lost her once more.

The tram took them winding through the Sunset District, then the Commercial Zone, then the centre of town. Few pairs of eyes landed upon Sham and Riot, and those few that did were not lingering long. As they passed through the Diplomatic District and into the Harbour District, a transport official boarded the tram, casting a nod to its driver. He proceeded to approach a large advertisement slot at the side of the tram, replacing its old contents with new. As he unfurled the new ad, Sham recognised it for what it was—another in the line of ads encouraging people to join up to the Citizen’s Police. This poster displayed an image of a pair of dice, every side containing just one pip, text above and below reading: DOWN ON YOUR LUCK? SPEAK TO THE C.P. ABOUT FLUKE. And lo and behold, in the bottom left corner, was the Citizen’s Police logo itself, their slogan printed underneath in small black lettering: BE ALL YOU CAN BE.

[PERSPICACITY] A GUT FEELING: FAIL

Your hairs prick up on the back of your neck. But why?

‘Day four already,’ Recollection suddenly remarked, ‘Almost halfway, and just what have we achieved?’

Sham took the opportunity to completely ignore the living skill whispering inside his mind, and instead stared on as the transport officer finished his work. His body was beginning to groan from the increased exercise of lugging—Riot’s admittedly small—body around town, even with the enforced rest of the past couple of days. His muscles felt weak, his—

‘Should have got that Vigour vial, then…’

‘You told me not to!’ Sham found himself suddenly cry out, eliciting strange looks from his fellow passengers. He smiled an apology to them, and then continued at a whisper. ‘You discouraged me from getting any more vials. So what’s this shit about—’

‘Didn’t say I wanted you to take it, did I?’ Recollection crooned dryly. ‘Just that you wouldn’t be in this situation if you had it. Keep up, idiot boy.’

‘What?’ Sham retorted, shaking his head in disbelief. He received no answer.

The journey continued on in relative peace, with no irritating interruptions from the living skill. Only as they were beginning to approach their destination did Riot begin to stir once more, blinking the world back into existence through her swollen eyelids. ‘Your friend?’ she murmured, then, realising just who she was talking to, pushed herself away from Sham and into the window at the side of the tram. ‘You. What are you doing? What are you doing with—’

‘I’m helping you,’ Sham replied, gesturing for her to keep calm as he felt the prickly stares of fellow passengers upon him.

Riot didn’t seem satisfied with this answer, gulping—with apparent agony—and keeping herself pressed against the wall of the vehicle. As far away from Sham as she could reasonably get. ‘Why? After I…’ Even in her current state, she had the sense not to spell out the full “kept hostage” situation in front of other people.

Sham sighed. ‘I told you, didn’t I? We know each other. We’ve met before, in another time. And I couldn’t…’ He trailed off, surprising even himself with these words. ‘I couldn’t leave you there. Injured, unconscious. I couldn’t leave you there for the Le—’

Riot’s widening eyes cut Sham off. ‘Don’t.’ She twisted, glancing around the tram. ‘Don’t know who could be—’ She clutched at her abdomen mid-turn, breathed out a gasp of pain. With careful glances around the tram, this time not twisting, she cautiously lifted up her shirt to reveal the purple skin underneath.

‘Gods,’ Sham found himself muttering.

‘Thank you for the reassurance,’ Riot replied dryly.

‘That’s broken.’

‘Yes, I can see that,’ Riot responded. ‘Your friend—’

‘Next stop. Can you walk?’

Riot nodded without hesitation, so Sham stood from his seat and made for the door, pulling the rope on his way to signal to the driver to stop. But when he looked back, he saw Riot struggling, holding back tears of pain as she clutched at her wounded chest.

Sham sighed again, then returned to the thorny woman’s side. ‘Put your…’

Riot did immediately as he was about to suggest, placing her left hand over his shoulders and allowing Sham to bear the brunt of her weight.

‘Thought you’d need more convincing,’ Sham said.

‘Why?’ Riot replied as they made their slow way for the opening doors. ‘Because I don’t know you?’

‘No. Because I know you.’

It should have been a five minute journey to reach Sham’s old friend from the tram stop, but it took more like twenty. Riot’s steps were slow, unsteady, and although she was slight, having her rest on Sham so was beginning to weigh on his disease-ridden body. Between them, they were a sorry pair, and both seemed keen to silently ignore the strange looks of those they passed in the streets.

Finally, they reached their destination: the basement door under a pub with fading, peeling paintwork. The dwelling that Tripe now called home.

Sham rapped the door once, then twice. There came no response.

‘You sure they’re home?’ Riot asked.

‘They ain’t get out much.’

Sham knocked again. And again. Then, finally, he gave up on this more subtle approach and announced loudly. ‘You gonna answer this or am I gonna have to start shouting your real name?’

From behind the door came a loud fumbling as a man about Sham’s age rushed for the door, swinging it open with visible exasperation. ‘You been followed?’ Tripe said, peering out of the open door and scanning the street with his eyes. He gestured for them to enter. ‘Quick, quick.’

‘Nice to see you too, Tripe,’ Sham replied as he and Riot hobbled inside, his tone mocking. ‘Yes, and you as well, Sham. It’s been too long.’ He felt the old friend’s unimpressed gaze upon him, but continued none the less. ‘Yeah, it must have been… what? Three years? Yes, Sham, three years sounds about right. Far too long a—’

‘You’ve been followed,’ Tripe cut in.

‘You’re too paranoid. You always was.’

‘No, I’m just as paranoid as I need to be.’

They entered a large singular room, the walls bare, damp and cold. A bed was placed in one corner, but the main bulk of the area was dedicated to Tripe’s informal—and off the books—medical office. A medical bed sat in the centre of the room, with various wheeled chests of drawers placed erratically around it.

Tripe turned to Riot, gestured for her to sit down on the bed, and Sham helped her over. Riot even smiled a thanks—or at least, Sham supposed it was a thanks—as he released her onto it.

‘So this is why you come back, is it?’ Tripe said as he started going about inspecting Riot’s wounds. ‘A woman. Always was, with you, Sham. Always was.’ Tripe looked up at Riot, who wore an expression on her face that was a peculiar mix of pain and bewilderment. ‘You wouldn’t know it now, looking at him, but he used to be handsome. Had lots of girls fawning over him. But now…’

Tripe gestured in Sham’s general direction.

He bit back a reply.

‘What happened to [???] anyway?’ Tripe asked.

Sham’s heart dropped in his chest. He’d heard a name there. He was sure of it. But when he tried to remember what Tripe had asked, he could imagine only white noise. ‘To… who, sorry?’ he asked.

‘Who?’ Tripe repeated back to him, turning away from his patient with indignation. ‘Your wife! The chemist. The one you gave it all up for. The one you turned legit for. Remember her?’

‘Oh, err…’ Sham started, ‘Right. We separated.’

Tripe raised his eyebrows, turned back to Riot. ‘A shame,’ he muttered. ‘And you’re still… legit?’

Sham shrugged. ‘Not as much as I’d like to be.’

Tripe snorted; this amused him. ‘Yeah, you and me both, mate.’ He prodded at Riot’s chest. At the purple skin. ‘That hurt?’

‘Yes,’ Riot replied.

‘It’s broken.’

‘Well I could’ve told you that,’ Sham butted in. ‘Just need you to fix it.’

Tripe nodded. ‘And you can afford me, yeah? You know I charge more.’

‘For this?’ Sham gestured to the dingy basement around him.

‘For the hush-hush.’

Sham gestured to Riot. ‘She’s paying. She can afford you.’

Riot narrowed her eyes at him.

‘A wealthy one, eh?’ Tripe muttered.

‘I’m right here, you know,’ Riot interrupted. ‘Could do without you two talking like I’m not.’

‘And I could do with patients not dropping in unannounced,’ Tripe retorted. ‘But that’s life, ain’t it? We don’t always get what we want.’

Riot’s glare shifted to Sham. He shook his head in what he hoped would signal to her that there was no point arguing this one.

‘What happened to you, anyway?’ Tripe asked Riot. ‘This one get you in some kinda trouble?’

‘Police.’

‘Citizen’s?’ Tripe asked. ‘I hear they’re—’

‘No. Legion.’

Tripe froze. After a silent few seconds, he looked back up at Riot and asked, ‘What?’

‘The Legion. They did this,’ Riot said again.

Tripe pulled himself back from the bed, his eyes wide, mouth flapping silently as he looked from Riot to Sham. ‘You’re involved with the Legion and you came here?’

‘It’s what you do, ain’t it?’ Sham answered. ‘Off the books medical treat—’

‘Off the books from regular police, sure. Or Citizen’s, nowadays. They’re equally useless. But the Legion…’

Tripe’s eyes narrowed. He turned back to Riot.

‘The Legion did this to you and… let you go?’ he asked.

Riot shrugged, then winced from the pain.

‘How?’ he demanded, his voice beginning to raise. ‘What happened?’

‘I escaped,’ Riot mumbled.

‘Excuse me?’

‘I escaped,’ she said again, louder this time.

Tripe drew in a deep breath, put his hands to his head. ‘Escaped?’ he repeated, eyes snapping wide. ‘You’re saying you escaped from the Legion?’

‘Yeah, I thought that was odd too,’ Sham added.

‘How?’ Tripe continued, ignoring his old friend.

‘I…’ Riot started, ‘I just… ran. Got away. I…’

‘But they’re Legion. You don’t just “get away” from the Legion.’ The disgraced doctor smacked his lips, cast his frantic eyes towards the door. ‘Tell me there’s more to it. Tell me you’re immensely lucky, or you have a legendary Vigour skill. Tell me something.’

‘I…’ Riot started, glancing to Sham for support. He offered none. ‘I’m telling you, I just…’

Tripe sighed. ‘“Got away.” Right.’ He ran for the door, threw it open. ‘Gods damn it Sham.’

‘What? What did I do?’

‘I told you you were followed, didn’t I?’

Sham rushed to his old friend’s side, and then saw it: two people, dressed in black, their eyes fixed on Tripe’s doorway as they stormed towards them. One of the pair, Sham recognised. They’d crossed paths before, in another timeline. This was one of the men that Riot had brought with her to arrest the Loopkeepers, back when she’d thought they were involved. This was…

‘Josiah,’ Recollection finished for him.

‘Back!’ Tripe shouted, pushing Sham to stumble down the stairs and slamming the door closed behind him.

‘What’s the plan here, Tripe?’ Sham asked. ‘You think they didn’t see us?’

Tripe ignored him, pushing back him down the stairs and coming to a stop in the centre of the room, an injured Riot pushing herself back up at his side.

‘What’s going on?’ she asked.

‘Legion.’

Her eyes widened, her breathing heightened. ‘Here? I…’

Tripe grabbed her by the shoulders, shook her slightly. ‘Don’t you see? You didn’t escape them, they let you go! And they’ve been following you ever—’

The door at the top of the stairs slammed open, and two pairs of footsteps strolled slowly—menacingly—down them.

‘Where is he?’ the female officer snarled.

When neither Tripe nor Riot replied, both of them still with fear, Sham volunteered a response. ‘Who?’

‘You know who,’ the woman continued.

‘Kryl,’ Josiah added.

‘Don’t know who you’re talking about.’

[HEART OF JANUS] NOTHING TO DO WITH ME: FAIL

You must have known that wasn’t going to work.

Josiah reached slowly down to his waist, and pulled a revolver from one of his many holsters. He pointed it at Sham.

‘Looking forward to seeing how you get out of this one,’ Recollection muttered.

‘Oh, Kryl!’ Sham replied. ‘Yes, Kryl. I was just looking for him. Both of us were, actually. Heard that he was wanted by the police, so we thought we’d do our citizen’s duty and—’

Josiah slammed the revolver into Sham’s face, sparing no energy. Sham swallowed a lump—a tooth?—but didn’t have time to think about it before Josiah shifted his attention to Riot.

‘Where is he?’ the officer of Legion demanded of her.

‘I don’t know,’ she replied, her voice shaking, tears streaming down her face. ‘I’m looking for him same as you.’

In Sham’s experience, Riot wasn’t a woman who scared easily, so just what had these two done to her?

‘Not good enough,’ the snarling woman said.

With that, Josiah unloaded a bullet. Not into Sham or Riot, but into the frozen Tripe’s head. He dropped to the ground.

There wasn’t time to grieve.

Josiah pointed the weapon back at Riot, pressing closer, looming over her. ‘Last chance,’ he said.

‘I don’t—’

And then Sham found himself moving. And he found himself in front of Riot. And he found Josiah’s barrel pushing into his chest.

‘You’d die for her, would you?’ Josiah asked, licking lips around his warped grin.

‘She’s telling the truth,’ Sham said. ‘She doesn’t know.’

He craned his neck over his shoulder, and saw Riot’s face staring back at him. Something had changed. There was a twinkling in her eyes, even the start of a smile. She’d seen something in him.

‘Remember, Sham,’ Riot spoke through the tears, ‘The gold-hilted blade.’

A bullet erupted through Sham’s chest.