Wednesday, 10:04am.

Skye sat down at his computer. After waiting for the screen to flicker to life, he checked his social media for any activity.

He had very few followers (about 15), but most were close friends he interacted with on a regular basis.

“anyone else still feeling rattled about Volons? I know they said they were cleared out of miyatama but,” read Skye's last post from a day prior.

“Kinda. That incident at Maroon was shocking” replied Saviour_Blue (better known as Skye's friend, Wrench).

“no” replied another friend, Ray, under the scholarly moniker of fucktowntyrant.

Skye scrolled down a bit more to see another comment from Saviour_Blue. “It's only been three months but I haven't seen anything weird around my shop. Idk about you. It's still creepy tho.”

Before he could start typing a reply, a knock knock was heard from the front door. “I'll get it!” he called out. Slinging his coat over his shoulder, Skye walked out of his room, to the dining room, and checked the peephole in the front entrance to ensure the visitor's identity.

He opened the door. “Morning, Kaori,” he greeted her with a smile.

“Morning, Mr. Devereaux.” Kaori – a prim woman with straight, black hair, dark skin, and a long pea coat – stood at the doorway, with two textbooks held against her hip.

“Come on in,” Skye invited her, stepping aside.

“Certainly, thank you.” She walked inside and removed her shoes and coat.

“Cassandra!” Skye shouted. “Teacher's here.”

“Wooo,” could be quietly heard from Cass's room. She pattered down the hallway towards the dining room moments later. “Hi Ms. Bach!” she exclaimed upon seeing Kaori.

“Hey, little lady. How are you?” Kaori asked.

“Good!”

“That's fantastic to hear!” Kaori turned to Skye. “It'll be an average length session today. Three hours total, I'm estimating?”

“Oh, I'll be back way before then. What are you guys going over today?”

“Math and English.” Kaori placed her textbooks on the table and shuffled through one of them. “I can't remember where we were with math, but I think we're starting on some more advanced grammar for English.”

“Sounds to me like Cass is going to be a genius in no time.”

Kaori chuckled. “I think I agree!”

Cassandra smiled from ear to ear.

“Study hard, Cass! I'll be back in a while.” Skye put his coat on and made off to the front door.

“I will! Bye Skye,” she replied.

“You two take care. I'm a phone call away if you need me.”

“Excellent, thank you. Be safe,” Kaori advised.

“Yep, no worries.” Skye opened the door and walked outside.

The “rain” was pouring harder than yesterday, thus, Skye made a point of hustling under as many awnings and overhangs as possible. Even his hooded coat couldn't fully protect him from the misty downpour.

He didn't waste any time slipping out of the quiet streets he lived in, either. He didn't expect that shark to make a return so soon after last night, but waiting around was still unnecessary risk to take.

Plus, for his day off, he had a friend to meet for some grocery shopping – someone he'd feel far safer around.

Skye spotted him before long. Seeing as his friend's abode was only a ten minute walk, meeting up with him didn't take much longer than that.

Standing at the corner of a furniture store with crossed arms was a tall, buff robot, black and grey all over except for some bright green markings and matching rave pants. He also wore a black shirt with plain white text simply reading “leggy.”

“Ray,” Skye shouted at the robot, pointing a couple fingers at him.

The bot turned to face him. Ray's appearance was already unmistakable, but the cat ears, screen face, and jagged lower jaw served as further confirmation as he looked at Skye.

“Sup, fuck,” his deep, mechanical voice acknowledged Skye. They walked towards each other and slammed their right hands together in a powerful handshake, before giving each other a very brief hug.

“Ahh, not much. You?”

“Balling incredibly hard every goddamn minute of my life.”

Skye laughed. “Yeah, that's about it, huh.”

“Every day.”

“All right, let's get going.”

Destination: groceries. With a powerful friend by his side, Skye could actually keep his head up for once, rather than constantly trying to hide his identity.

They waited at the corner of a block, right at an intersection. Traffic was heavy, but the large majority of the vehicles were industrial tankers and cargo trucks; civilian vehicles were a luxury in Miyatama's lower city.

Soon, they got the signal to cross the road.

“So, like, dude...” Skye began, “you're not worried about those volons at all? I saw your reply to my post.”

“No? Even if there are any left in the city, what's some feral shitbag gonna do to me?”

“Okay, fair, but... if there are some left, what about the rest of us?”

“They said they cleaned up the incident at Maroon and left none alive.”

“You believe that?”

“Not really.”

Skye hummed. “I guess it would probably be a pretty big deal if any more appeared. But... it's been three months since that big news flash...”

For him, it was disquieting. And for the general populace, the unexpected arrival of not one, but two alien species had everyone at least a bit unnerved. Groups of lower class citizens bunched up around electronics stores showing the latest news were no longer an uncommon sight.

Volons – the much more outwardly violent of the two – seemed to emerge from the Maroon facility in Miyatama months prior, but the others...

Skye and Ray paused their conversation momentarily as they passed by a steady stream of pedestrians on the other side of the road. The juxtaposition was appalling: some were decorated with fancy electronic gadgets and biological augments visible to the naked eye, but some were notably down on their luck, wearing nothing more than old, tattered rags and worn-down clothes.

Humbling.

“What do you think about the genofexians?” Skye began again, referring to that other alien species.

“Not much.”

“You don't think much of them...?”

“I don't know.” Ray grunted. “As long as they don't try to kill us, I don't really care.”

“R... really?!”

Ray looked right at Skye.

“I can't even begin to list off all the things we could gain from meeting an alien race like this!” Skye exclaimed. “Like... the culture, the technology, the knowledge...”

“Just not my thing. You know me,” Ray dismissed him.

“I... guess. It's hard for me to fathom not being super stoked for this...! I mean, it could change everything, you know?”

“More power to you, mate. Glad you're happy for a change, whatever the reason is.”

Ray's lackluster response kinda bummed Skye out a bit.

The duo's go-to store for cheap food was just a corner away; the sign above its entrance had succumbed to years of wear and tear, thus, they weren't even sure if it had a name. To them, it was just a convenient corner store.

Ding-ding. A small bell next to the door chimed as they walked inside. Skye wiped his wet shoes off on the welcome mat.

The musty, worn-down shop smelled strongly of lilac and bleach. Not the best place to shop, but the prices were better than most places, even if the selection was comparatively small. Plus, it was quiet enough to not attract huge crowds.

Ray led Skye down an aisle, aimlessly looking around at the products on the shelves, hoping to spot a juicy sale.

“I got someone in my life,” Ray spoke up.

“Hm?” Skye looked over to him. “What do you mean?”

“A partner.”

“Fuck off. You?”

“Yeah. His name's Gyroloop.”

“Well damn, dude, tell me about him.”

“Heh.” Ray looked off to the side. “Scrawny little white twink with a security camera for a head. Kinda squirmy.”

“...Squirmy?”

“Easy to get under his skin. It's real cute.”

Skye chuckled with concern. “You don't treat him badly, do you?”

“'Course not. Shit, what do you take me for? Heartless bloke that's all brawn and no brains?” He turned to face Skye, who didn't answer. “Well you'd be right. But that ain't mean I can't treat a man right.”

Skye smiled. “Yeah... I've never seen you with much of a soft spot.”

Ray grunted. “He's probably a good influence on me.”

“The bar's not particularly high there.”

“Fuck you, I'm not that bad.”

Skye stepped closer to Ray. “Yeah, I'm not the one wanted for murder,” he aggressively whispered.

Ray dismissively flicked his hand at Skye.

“Dude... that's, like, serious shit. I don't want my friend going away,” Skye continued.

“As if they care enough to catch me.”

“And what if they do?”

“Then I'll beat their skulls in.”

“Well... mmm.” Skye hopelessly dropped the topic. “So... what does Gyro do? How'd you meet?” he asked, inspecting nearby packages of instant noodles lined up neatly on the shelves.

“Heheh, I'll tell you the story of how we met when you meet him. I need to see his reaction.” He paused to scan the shelves along with Skye. “He works at Maroon. Human relations or something.”

“Maroon? Dude, explain to me how someone such as yourself gets involved with a white-collar “twink.” Please, enlighten me. Did you find him in a club or something?”

“Try the thresher district.”

“...Excuse me? Would you... would you mind repeating that for me there bud?”

“Try the thresher district.”

Skye rolled his eyes. “Okay, try elaborating, smart ass.”

“He got caught by this ragged motherfucker about to send him on a one way ticket to pissville. I actually heard him tell Gyro how much money his head was gonna make.”

“And... you saved him, I take it?”

“Thresher didn't have a face after I was done with him. Probably scared Gyro half to death too. Least I got to feel like a good guy for once.”

Skye lowered his voice again. “Is that what the cops want you in for?”

“No.” Ray almost sounded proud.

“For god's sake, dude.”

While browsing the shelves, Skye reflected on what he knew of the thresher district. It was a series of streets owned by a gang of sorts, going by the titular district's name – the threshers. From what he'd heard, they were ruthless humans with penchants for disassembling robots and selling their parts in an underground market.

That's all he knew, and all he wanted to know; why Ray and Gyroloop were there was something he didn't exactly feel inclined to inquire about.

Skye snapped back to attention when he spotted some cans of precooked ravioli on one of the shelves. The electronic display showed 84 srakna for a can, down from 109. He considered loading his basket, but he knew the sale wouldn't last; as he took one of the cans off the weighted shelf, the price increased up to 86. He ended up taking three cans, leaving the product's final price at 90 srakna. Despite the “high supply, high value” marketing almost every store took advantage of, 90 srakna was still a respectable price compared to 109.

“Nice,” Ray plainly commented.

The two meandered down another aisle in their search for bargains.

“Ooh shit,” Ray continued as he made his way through the frozen section. “Pizzas.”

Skye watched Ray grab one, two, and eventually five frozen meat-lover pizzas from one of the freezers. He also watched the price change from 239 to 264 as the stock decreased.

After perusing the remainder of the shop, picking up a few miscellaneous groceries along the way (candies, instant meals), the two headed up to the elderly cashier who barely spoke a lick of English.

“Hi,” he plainly greeted Skye, who was up first.

“Hi,” Skye awkwardly replied.

His items were rung through the checkout and he paid with his credit card.

Ray went through next, but asked for “a box of Avarice Darks” before checking out. The cashier opened a cabinet behind him, pulled out a pack of cigarettes, and added it to Ray's items.

“Thank you,” he said to Ray after the transaction was complete.

“Yeh,” he replied.

Ding-ding chimed the little bell as they left the store, back into the chilly downpour outside.

“So I gotta ask,” Skye began, “does smoking do anything for you?”

“Dunno. I enjoy it.”

Skye wasn't sure how to prod any further than that.

“Not addicted or anything,” Ray continued. “Just takes the edge off.”

“If you say so. 'Cause, you eat food, right? I'm curious about the extent of how “biologically” you're designed to work. If that makes sense.”

“Dunno. Never really cared.”

“Yeah, figures. You're a real piece of work.”

“Damn right.” Ray took a smoke from his carton and lit it up.

Moments after they left the store, the holographic advertisement screens mounted on nearby sidewalks and buildings all changed to an amber and red colour scheme, with the words “EMERGENCY ALERT” displayed in capital letters next to a warning symbol.

“Oh shit.” Skye stopped in his tracks, prompting Ray to do the same.

The text faded away to show a missing persons report, along with a photograph of the person in question, and details of their last whereabouts.

“God damnit,” Ray huffed. They both continued walking.

“I wish they wouldn't scare us like that.”

“Just gonna ignore them from now on,” Ray declared. “Fuck's sake.”

“Mmm... there've been a lot of those reports lately. It's almost daily now.”

“Probably gang business.”

“But they wouldn't be missing people reports if it was, like, gang killings. Plus, in the last two weeks, none of those reports have been robots. It's always humans. That weirds me out, man.”

“Then I got nothin' to worry about,” Ray boasted. “Guess I'll tell someone if I see them.”

Yeah, big talk for someone who never bothers looking at the reports.

They reached the intersection they crossed to get to the shop with perfect timing; the traffic light was red, thus, they crossed the street without delay.

“What are you gonna be up to today?” Skye asked.

“Same shit. Headin' to a club. Meetin' Wrench there.”

“Oh, nice! Say hi for me.”

“Don't wanna come yourself?”

“Nah... I've got something I need to work on at home.”

“Pussyyy. Yeh, I'll say hi to Wrench.”

“Yeah, you better.”

They soon approached the furniture store where they first met up.

“I'm goin' this way.” Ray pointed his thumb behind him, down the larger and more open street. “You dippin'?”

“Yeah, I gotta get working on my project today. Sooner rather than later.” Skye hesitantly glanced towards the darker and less populated street he came from.

“Catch ya later, then. Thanks for the shop.”

“No prob! Thank you. See you online later.”

“Yeh. Peace.” They gave each other a quick wave before splitting off in their own directions.