I woke to the croaking sound of a ceiling fan that needed some droplets of WD40 and a Phillips screwdriver to boot. It was one thing to wake up with a headache the day in front, but to wake up two days in a row, and not from drinking? Then surely my life was shit.

As I groggily pushed myself up, the weight of my cybernetic arm brought me back down with a thud. Right, I forgot I thought.

I turned my cybernetic eye and arm off, hoping to soothe my brain from the strain of overusing my SMB. Regardless of my attempt to relieve myself of this headache. I failed and did so miserably. “At least it wasn’t neural hemicrania,” I said aloud.

I wiped my face with my right hand and groaned a yawn. A rattle of bullets chimed off to my right, making me duck behind the bed, trying to hide. It took me a few minutes to return to my senses. Once I did, I inhaled heavily and exhaled deeply, calming my heart rate. I finally pushed myself back onto my bed and peered right, noting a plant pot with barely any greenery, peeking out from the base of the orange pot.

I surmised it was an aftershock, then fell back on the bed to continue my therapy. It didn’t take long, for my head to throb slightly, which was followed by the excruciatingly numbing pain at both my sides. Damn that steel ball user, whoever he was... Peanz? Doesn’t matter…he’s dead.

I dabbed the anaesthetic patch on my right side, a groan-like pain erupted in the area like a throbbing sensation at max volume. It started from my side and crawled up my back, leaving a sensation of cold needles burrowing into my skin. It made me shiver and wince all at the same time.

Once that cooled, I then checked my left side. It always felt hollow, empty… whenever I turned off my cybernetic eye and arm. I never got used to the feeling of my missing arm, thanks to the soothing sensors that were melded to my nerve system. However, now that I turned off everything, the left side of my upper body was completely devoid of feeling.

I let the moment of melancholy hit me and lay there, till my pity finally dissipated. Then I squeezed the bedsheets, reminding myself that I hated being alone and I needed to fix this soon.

The lids of the sky window from my room were halfway open. The little light that slipped through was trailed by the morning mist, leaving splotches of dust floating in.

I inhaled a whiff of stale air and peered my surroundings, to finally get a better gauge of the cheap motel room I got after the aftermath of my miniature war with an uppity crime lord.

A puffing sound resonated to my left, in the form of the humidifier. It sat on the desk, where my car keys and creditstrip were. “Where’s my jacket?” I grumbled. It might’ve been stained, but it wasn’t something that could be destroyed easily. Or am I underestimating Underwent’s muck and grime?

“Nova, where am I?” I asked the AA.

No response.

Of course not, your cybernetics are off. Idiot.

Adrianna Smith and the Jon Doe. DAMN IT. I forgot all about them in the moments when I was trying to stay alive. With great reluctance, and annoyance. I tapped the back of my prosthetic ear, till it clipped into place. A spooling sound groaned from my cybernetic arm and within twenty seconds, the biochip integrated with my brain came alive, clutching on my brain like a clamp squeezing an orange.

“Neural Operating Valency Artificial Assistant... online,” Nova said, in her permanently cool voice. “Welcome back, Nova,” I said. “You were truly missed.”

“Likewise, Sir.”

“Where am I, Nova?”

“The Gallows, sector 7-2B”

“2B?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Damn, this is Silent-Dragon territory. This isn't good.”

“Affirmative.”

“Where did I park the Xenotis?”

“Sector 6H”

“I walked here?”

“No, Sir, you hid the Xenotis, then hitched a cab.”

“Damn I’m really out of it. Anyways, do I have any messages from the commissioner… Zade… Rex?”

“No messages received.”

“No missed calls?”

“Affirmative, Sir, you have no missed calls.”

“Is this how it feels to be duped and dumped?”

“Inconclusive.”

“I’m sure it is,” I said bitterly.

I pushed myself from the bed, feeling the anaesthetic patches crumple on my right side. I stripped them free, tossed them into a bin in the bathroom and took a warm shower.

After I dried myself, I got myself ready and pulled my freshly washed jacket from the washing machine, which was located in the mini kitchen to the left of the table.

I was ready to leave, but not yet, so I stayed within my room to catch my breath and pour a shot of rum from the cabinet, sitting above the sink.

The burn of the rum felt good as it went down my throat. It was even good enough to numb the errors of the past before they tried to creep into my mind. Yup... it was one of those days.

They usually came, after a gunfight, and I usually fought these days off with a half bottle. However, I couldn’t do that. I had a case to solve.

“This isn’t working,” I told the humidifier. “I need some grub.” I left the room, making my way down four flights of stairs passing three vending machines. I noted the Gimbap and purified Water is sold. I also noted the expiry date on them, three years ago. Pass.

I made my way to the lobby and the familiar sound of a cricket bat connecting with a ball filled the entire room, then followed with the boom from the crowd's celebration. A game was on, but I wouldn’t even bother to look. I’d just lost 400 Creds on a game. I’m good at cricket, for now.

The motelier sat on the couch in her lobby, foot on the coffee table, with a water cooler sitting to her left. The motel lobby was neat but dingy. Stain marks were everywhere… but when I looked closer, I realised those were bloodstains that couldn’t be cleaned properly.

The couch though, seemed pristine, compared to everything else here, and even the upholstery was poorly done, with missing buttons and patchwork of differing colours.

Not wanting to linger any longer, I tried stalking past the motelier, but she caught wind of me on my eighth step from the door and called out to me. “Didn’t expect to see you up so early, Kid.” The motelier said with two crooked front teeth.

“Early? It’s 10am…” I told her.

The old motelier turned towards me, and I saw the LED light, blinking intermittently orange around her nose.

“Really,” I said, “a nose-mod? Why the hell would you get that? Can’t you smell this place?”

“Of course, why else do you think I have it?”

“Wait... you used that to nullify the smell, but kept all the pleasant aromas.”

“Like rum. And other vices we all have,” she said, winking at me, eyeing my pants. A loud clunk bellowed from the TV from a shot made by the current batman, who’d charged down the wicket striking the spin bowler back over his head for six.

I’d barely caught a glimpse of the shot in the corner of my eye. Not bad. Then, it was like the match ceased to exist. A special announcement popped up on the screen.

“Breaking News,” the news anchor said, flashing on the screen. “Active Riots on the Streets Welkey’s Industrial Park.” The screen jumped to a shot of the police battling rioters with tear gas, batons and bullets. It was a full-on war between the two. I watched for a minute or two, wallowing at the sight. “Who armed the civs?” I asked loudly, not expecting an answer.

“Who else, the black market,” the old motelier said.

“You got ties to know that?”

“Do I need to? Who the hell wouldn’t know that the black market facilitated this for the people?”

“The black market cares nothing about the people. It only cares about creds and rare valuables, Lady.” I said firmly.

“I’m sure it does,” she said, “but with the rise of Automatons taking jobs away from good working people, this was bound to happen.”

“Rise in Automatons? Doesn’t Legislation 24-A-7 state that all Automatons are meant for heavy-duty work such as salvage and disposals?”

“Where the hell have you been living, don’t you watch the news? They’ve been trying to change that legislation for the past two years, Boy.”

“Oh... I didn’t know.”

“Clearly,” The old motelier said, offended.

“It’s hard enough living in The Gallows, but to take away honest paying jobs now from the people? That’s downright criminal. It isn’t like they don't have enough credits as is.”

“You believe the corporations and government are in bed?”

“In bed?”

“Son. The bed is the corporations and government. They’ve been working together for years.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Look around you, The Gallows is this way, because it relies on the work from these corporations. Plumbing, Electrical, Maintenance... all of those workers come from here. Do you think any of those uppity bastards would want their children doing such jobs?”

“No.”

“Exactly…”

I stood there, feeling as if I’d been ignorant to The Gallows, my home. I grew up here but hadn’t set foot here in decades. I made the AFA my second home. Hell, it was my home, till I lost my arm and an eye. Then, I had to start anew, like a chicklet emerging from a cracked egg. My life was never easy, it had its pain, but I sure never saw myself like how she did. Battered and bruised.

The feed of the battle was cut off shortly. Neither of us said a word when the cricket match resumed. In truth I didn’t want to stay, the old woman rubbed some serious salt in my freshly wounded ego. I thought I knew everything... but it was clear. I didn’t know shit.

I walked out of the motel and wafting steam and puddles were littered across the street. Stalls, Vendors and people roamed through the streets, going to their respective destinations. Me though, I didn’t know where the hell to go.

That was until my stomach growled so loud a kid giggled upon hearing it, as he passed. I gave him a nervous smile, whilst his mother shooed his eyesight from mine.

“Yeah... food,” I said aloud, rubbing my stomach.

I found myself on New Han street, inhaling the fine Chinese cuisine aroma. That didn’t help though, as my stomach continued to rumble like a dying tractor engine.

The ethnicity that lived on this street seemed to be Chinese, which explained why the street was called New Han. That was a guess, but I was sure I was right.

The scent of stir-fried pork and egg fried rice danced in the air, making my mouth water. I drank all of it. I passed a pan of sweet potatoes with caramelized sugar sitting on the top, with a pleasantly brown sheen that glowed, making the aroma hit me immediately after passing the stall. I half turned to snatch up a bowl.

I surmised that I needed the sugar, turned around and bought a bowl. The vendor ushered me to a seat in the back. Where a dozen people were sitting with their family, friends and coworkers. It was peaceful, despite the overwhelming angst of The Gallows.

I took a bite into a sweet potato, tasting the sugary bliss of the caramelised sugar. I heard the melody of sweet music massage the pain in my sides away and ushered me into a relaxed state.

Incoming Call…

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” I snarled. I felt everyone’s sneers and glares, but I couldn’t care less... “Why call now?” I huffed.

“Cypher,” I answered.”

“Dr Hanstir Planson,” Commissioner Hexan answered coldly.

“What?”

“Dr Hanstir Planson.”

“What about him?”

“He works for Twin Food Inc. He’s one of the best geneticists in the Federation. I want you to ask him whatever questions you have about the Jon Doe’s and Adrianna Smith’s DNA.

“We’re not gonna use Arson Fellis or Jeca Sealin?”

“Cypher…”

“Look, Commissioner, I get it. But I did my research. Arson's profile reads as military as it gets. Vague. However, Jeca’s profile reads as corporate as they come, all of her accomplishments outlined, including her marriage. My problem though, she’s in Castron and I’m not about to fly a hundred miles to hear she’s unavailable.”

“Then you’ve answered your own reservation, Cypher,” The commissioner said, voice sounding strained.

“I guess but I'm just trying to throw a wide net to use if you get me. I really think we shouldn’t shoot all the ducks because they’re lying out in the open.

“Well, I need you to not think and shoot Planston. He’s giving a speech at the Nelix Auditorium. I have you scheduled for a meeting right after his speech.”

“Right after?”

“Right After.”

“Commissioner,” I said, trying to stop her from cutting the line.

“Cypher. I’m kinda pissed right now. I’m sure you saw the news. I’m about to have five furnaces shoved up my ass because of the debacle that just went down. Just talk to PLANSTON. Crimon”

The line went dead and so did my confidence.