Day 2

[HARDENED LIVER] DETOX: SUCCESS

The pain grows. Physicality wanes. The fog begins to clear. Continue on like this and you might just change yourself.

Sham awoke to the gentle warmth of the sun rippling over his cheeks. Light bespeckled his naked torso, small circles slipping through the cracks in Riot’s blinds. He rolled over, reaching out for the touch of his new lover’s soft skin, but his arm met only sheets, and a dent in the mattress where the woman had been sleeping. He released a sigh, allowing the moment of peace to wash over him, and stared up at the ceiling rose above him, from which hung a glamorous chandelier.

The second day was always, somehow, worse than the first—with the toxins from his Hester-induced binge of alcohol beginning to seep from his system—yet on this Loop, Sham was riding the high of hormone-induced bliss. None of the pain seemed, this time, to matter.

‘Riot!’ he called out, then listened for an answer that never came.

With a sigh, Sham pulled himself upright, feeling the soft carpet beneath his bare feet. He scrunched his toes, the thread pile piercing the gaps between them, and then he pulled away, feeling a gentle tug as the threads escaped the grasp of his feet.

‘Riot!’ he called out again, and noted that there was no gentle way to cry out such a name.

When there came once again no answer, Sham placed his feet back firmly on the carpet and launched himself upright, and for a moment the pain in his head overwhelmed the echoes of pleasure.

He sat back on the side of the bed, the soft mattress giving way some beneath his arse, and his nose caught a waft of Riot’s scent, drifting from the disturbed bedsheets.

MEMORY UNLOCKED (RECOLLECTION)

It’s strangely simple, you and her. You fit together more perfectly than you might ever have dreamt. Not a word needs to be spoken as you lose yourselves in each other for a moment. For a night.

The skill-induced memory hadn’t been necessary; the night before was firmly imprinted on Sham’s brain, but he didn’t mind reliving it, just for a moment—even if it seemed like Recollection, too, was revelling in it. For a time, the perils of the Loop had faded away. There was no corrupt police force, no tyrannical prime minister, no clumsy resistance to manage. There had only been each other. Those responsibilities had been temporarily lifted, and only now—with a benchmark with which to compare—did Sham feel their full weight. Just how much did the same apply to Riot, he wondered.

With another, deeper sigh, Sham pulled himself up and prepared himself to face those responsibilities once more.

‘Work to be done…’

Sham didn’t grace Recollection with a response, only heaving himself off towards the bedroom door, shaking his stiff joints along the way. It did little to help.

‘Riot?’ he called out again as he poked his head around the door, only to be presented by the sight of Riot’s vacant open-plan apartment.

‘Looks like she’s—’

‘Yes.’ Sham glanced at the kitchen, and the empty mug—presumably once containing tea—on the countertop. Riot, it seemed, had already got to work; perhaps it was time he did the same. As he stepped toward the exit, a vision of Riot flashed through his mind: her emergence from the bathroom with purpose in her eyes. Her favourite jacket had been tossed to the bathroom floor; she’d made the decision, in there, to be with him.

Sham paused as he passed the bathroom, his eyes glossing over the floor where the jacket had been. Riot had pulled her various item of outerwear from the ground on her way out; it was rare to see her without that particular jacket, even when it was layered over a fancy dress or something else that didn’t quite seem to match. He pulled his gaze away from the floor, and his eyes passed over something glistening.

He paused mid-step, turning back to the obscenely large bathroom. Sham searched for the glistening item again, but from this angle there was nothing reflecting light into his eyes. He approached, eyes fixed on the area he was sure he’d seen something, and sure enough, there it was: an empty glass vial.

Sham plucked it from the tile floor, holding it up to the light streaming in through the windows. It was dry—if it had once contained liquid, Riot had either licked it clean or the last of it had evaporated overnight—but Sham wasn’t fooled. He remembered such vials well; those in the Harbour District often used them in an attempt to get a leg up on others and maybe, just maybe, pull themselves from the depths of poverty. These items, known colloquially as “Boono”, offered temporary skill buffs, but so often at a great chost.

Just what could Riot—perhaps the most capable person Sham had ever met—possibly need skill buffs for?

‘Ever get the impression someone’s keeping something from you?’ Recollection asked.

‘Well I do now, don’t I?’

The living skill did not reply.

‘You got anything for me? Any idea what I might have missed?’

‘I’m keeping nothing from you. Trust me.’

Sham snorted. ‘Trust you? It’s a little difficult after all that with Hest—’

‘I’m keeping nothing from you now.’

The human amongst them pursed his lips, knowing that although the living skill wouldn’t be able to see this gesture of disapproval, he’d be able to feel it.

Sham stared up at the empty glass vial he was holding against the light, searching for any clue just what Riot was up to, and what she felt important enough to keep from the resistance.

‘From you, you mean.’

QUEST UNLOCKED: THE VIAL

Discover the purpose of Riot’s new boono habit.

With a frown, Sham pocketed the vial, and left the apartment.

Sham found the resistance’s two newest recruits on Government Plaza, sitting on the edge of the concrete fountain in its centre, and positioned as though they were making casual chit-chat while allowing Mona a clear eyeline to the doors of the Tower.

‘Still waiting?’ Sham asked as he strolled over to their side.

Mona shrugged. ‘The day two briefing is a long one. Should be any minute.’

‘It OK you being here, mate?’ Tripe asked. ‘What with…’ He gestured up to the top of the Tower.

‘What, the PM?’ Sham retorted. ‘You reckon he’s got a telescope up there or something?’

Tripe immediately raised his hands in surrender. ‘Aite, aite. I was just asking, wasn’t I? Thought our motto was “better safe than sorry” or whatever the fuck.’

Sham ignored his old friend. ‘No Riot?’ he asked.

Mona shook her head. ‘Nope.’

‘Weren’t we…’

‘Expecting her? Yes. Yes, we were.’ The woman twitched, suddenly looking over her shoulder, then frowning when there seemed to be nothing there.

‘Well you know what that was…’ Recollection whispered.

Sham replied with the subtlest of nods; it wouldn’t do to tip off Tripe and Mona about the voice in his head—in their heads, now—before they really needed to know. ‘Well, I’m here. The three of us will be enough.’

‘No Ariel? No Asa?’ Tripe asked. ‘Tell you what, mate, considering we’re all equal members in this little revolution’ — Mona cringed at the word spoken aloud, her eyes whipping around to check that nobody had overheard — ‘I ain’t exactly seen the others pulling their weight like we are.’

‘They have their own roles to play,’ Sham said.

Tripe groaned. ‘Oh, don’t talk to me like that. Like Ariel does, all vague and mysterious and fucking irritating. Just give it to me straight, yeah? Are they doing shit or are you just covering for them?’

‘They’re doing shit.’

‘Even Riot?’

Sham was saved the efforts of lying when Mona perked up.

‘It’s time,’ she said. ‘He’s here.’

Sham cast his head casually around, his eyes lingering on the group of people exiting the Tower. At the top of the steps, amongst a crowd of government workers, were three of the members of Legion: a hulking man looming over the rest with muscles that seemed fit to burst, by name of Warren; a young woman with a perpetual frown upon her face, who the resistance had learned was called Edi; and, finally, the man in question—the weed of a man known as Lew Sawyer.

With a nod to the other two members of the resistance, Sham took off, with Tripe quickly following suit. It was time to scatter; if Lew saw them together now, then it would be harder for them to follow him.

Sham stepped into the shade of an old oak tree, and watched across Government Plaza as Lew said his goodbyes to his colleagues then set off east, an apparently ambling Mona hot on his tail. Sham—and, at a greater distance, Tripe—followed after them, keeping a great many yards between themselves and their target, though not so many that they might lose the man they sought.

Soon, Lew Sawyer came to a tram stop, and the trio pursuing him knew that not all could risk waiting alongside him; a lone woman with her eyes on him might avoid attention, but with two other men at her side that wouldn’t be the case. Sham hung back, slouching against a building away from the roadside, and Tripe back further still.

[SEASONED] THE VELOCITY OF AN UNLADEN TRAM: SUCCESS

That’s too far; a man with Tripe’s level of fitness won’t stand a chance against the tram’s typical speeds in this part of town.

Sham pointedly caught his friend’s eyes, and with the nod of his head encouraged him closer. Tripe scurried up the street and came to a halt by a drain at the side of the road, where he pulled a cigarette from his pocket and began to smoke. Though it wasn’t Sham’s vice of choice, he was beginning to wonder lately if he shouldn’t start; nobody looked twice at a man stopped to smoke, and a man who was just twiddling his thumbs didn’t escape notice quite as much.

The tram soon came hurtling around the corner, and at the sound of metal screeching against track, both Sham and Tripe leapt into action once more. Both men reached the tram long after Lew and Mona had boarded, but with just enough time to avoid the closing doors.

Aboard, they all kept their distance, each of them passing their eyes over Lew just before every stop, to look for signs that he was making a move. By the time they were near the end of the line, out in the farthest reaches of the Dripcanal, Sham was beginning to worry that Lew would wait until the final stop—at which point the members of the resistance could very well be the last remaining passengers.

But the gods worked in their favour, and Lew alighted the tram—followed quickly by Tripe, Mona and Sham—at the last major calling point, a stop near a high street at which all but one passenger hopped off. It was Tripe’s turn, next, to stick close to Lew, mixing it up to decrease the chance of their target noticing.

Their target continued onward up a wider road that was lined with the sorts of commercial enterprises common in this district of the city—cafes, tea rooms and pubs interspersed between casinos, bars, and clubs. Only the former sort of establishment was open at this hour in the late morning, of course, with the exception of some of the clubs kicking out their last patrons of the night. If Lew was here, then it surely wasn’t for work. It was for pleasure.

The officer of Legion seemed to know exactly where he was going, his eyes fixed on the road ahead of him, his pace not faltering for a second. As Sham began drawing closer to pick up the follow as Tripe pulled back, Lew Sawyer made an abrupt turn onto the patio of a crowded cafe.

Sham took a seat on a bench across the road, keeping his eyes fixed firmly on their target, as Tripe sat next to him.

‘Popular spot,’ Sham noted, nodding to the queue that extended out the cafe’s doors, its members being told to be patient by a skittish-looking young woman. Tripe grunted a response as they watched Lew Sawyer ignore the queue entirely, instead strolling straight up to a nervous young member of the wait staff, who gestured to the queue.

But Lew pulled a warm smile to his face—one that seemed to transform his features. He shed his previous creepy air in an instant, and turned him into an approachable sorta chap. Some might even go so far as to call him attractive.

The young cafe worker seemed to think so; her cheeks flushed red at something the officer of Legion had said, and suddenly Lew was being led to the next vacant table—much to the chagrin of a young couple at the front of the queue.

‘Tell you what,’ Sham murmured to Tripe without turning to him. ‘I ain’t had nearly as much luck with common grade Magnetism.’

Tripe snorted. ‘Not uncommon, neither.’

A familiar presence arrived at their rear. ‘Any ideas what he’s doing here?’ Mona asked.

‘Having a cuppa, I reckon.’

‘Straight after the morning briefing?’ Sham asked. ‘Surely he’s got stuff to do.’

‘Who’s going in?’ Mona asked.

In answer, Tripe stood from the bench and hobbled over to the back of the queue; he wasn’t going to try his luck at the same strategy as Lew.

Sham and Mona watched on as Lew smiled again at the young worker who’d let him jump the queue, and suddenly the woman was switching roles with another worker so that she could serve him.

‘I don’t get it,’ Sham said.

Mona remained quiet.

‘What could he have said? What could he have possibly said to get a woman fussing about him like that? He said, what, five sentences to her?’

They watched as Lew said something to the cafe worker that made her roar with laughter.

‘What could he have said?’ Sham asked again.

‘“I have loads of money?”’ Mona suggested.

‘Be serious.’

Mona shrugged. ‘Would work for some. Depends on the—’ She cut herself off and whipped her head over her shoulder. If she’d heard a voice, it wasn’t coming from behind her.

The pair watched on as Lew continued to flirt, at some point getting a coffee ordered in—coffee over tea; if being a member of Legion didn’t make it obvious enough that he was evil, his drink order confirmed it—all the time having the young woman hang on to his every word.

Finally, just as Tripe was reaching the front of the queue, Lew made his move, standing from his table and once again moving to command the same young server’s attention. Only a few moments later, Lew was leading the young woman out of the bar, her hands around his arm.

‘Guess we know what he’s here for,’ Mona said.

‘And on his boss’s time, too.’

The trio continued their previous approach as they followed Lew Sawyer and his new acquaintance down the roads of the Dripcanal, rotating which of them was closest to avoid detection. It didn’t take long; soon Lew was coming to a stop outside an apartment block, pulling a huge set of keys from his pocket.

‘Just how many buildings does this man have access to?’

When Lew finally found the correct key, he and the cafe worker slipped inside, closing the door firmly behind them. Sham hurried to it nonetheless, pushing against it hard, as though doing so might undo the fact that Lew had locked it behind him.

‘Fuck,’ he said.

But soon Tripe was shooting past—or, rather, hurrying as fast as a man of his level of fitness could manage.

‘What?’ Sham called after him. ‘What is it?’

‘Tall building,’ Tripe gasped as he ran. ‘Fire escape.’

Sham nodded, running after his old friend. If he’d thought to engage his Seasoned skill—uncommon in grade, much like Tripe’s—he might have had this realisation, too. He turned into an alley at the side of the building to find Tripe with his hands on his hips, staring up at a ladder that was out of reach.

‘Boost me,’ Sham said.

‘And why the fuck ain’t it me boosting you?’ Tripe asked.

‘I’m sick. All this walking today is gonna be enough to do me in. I don’t need this to add to the trouble.’

Tripe opened his mouth as if to argue the point, but closed it again as Mona hurried to their side. ‘Go on, then,’ he mumbled, then locked his fingers together to push Sham up toward the ladder.

With a heave, Sham managed to get one foot, then the other, on the lowest rung, and began climbing to where the fire escape started proper.

‘Well, lower it, then,’ Tripe said.

Sham kicked at the mechanism. Nothing happened. He did it again, just to be sure. ‘It’s broken.’

‘Better hope there ain’t a fire, then.’

Sham turned his attention to the metal stairs leading up and the windows to his left. If luck was on his side, Lew’s destination would be on this side of the building. Otherwise… otherwise maybe they’d lost the trail. Sham scoured the windows of the building as he climbed, and soon heard the clunk of foot upon metal beneath him as Mona joined him.

Sham’s breathing grew erratic and his feet heavy as he climbed, and as he reached a floor three from the top, he thought he was going to collapse. He must have looked like he was going to collapse, too, because suddenly Mona was at his side, helping to support him.

‘You alright?’ she asked.

Before she could reply, their heads snapped to a nearby window; coming from inside was a familiar voice.

‘...say it,’ Lew said. ‘Say it out loud for me.’ There was an eeriness to his tone. Something that made the hairs on the back of Sham’s neck stand on end.

Sham and Mona approached the side of the open window, angling themselves for a better chance of hearing the full conversation.

‘I think I’m going mad,’ the young woman said. ‘I think I… I remember all this. It’s the same, and it’s different, but… it’s the same days. And nobody else… I have to pretend…’ She trailed off.

Sham and Mona glanced at one another. This wasn’t what they’d thought it was. This was work. This was another Looper.