The district was deader than the trail left by Tenner’s madness -- there was a lack of wind, blinding him with his own messy hair, in these still corners of the Realm.

A gloomy, brick-walled box of a workshop with craters in its sides patched up by scrap metal welcomed him into The Sparks. Each of the district’s buildings, in place of factory chimneys, had poles tangled in wires that linked them. Tenner sat with his back against one and feet dangling off the roof.

Might as well drop more than my feet, considering the shit I did...

How could have he let the darkness in? Let it control him for so long, after vowing not to even consider it?

It was supposed to be a simple thought: if he committed atrocities, did anything for his desires and treated people like dad did, he could get levels, credits and perks. But that thought never assumed he could let himself make the trade. Never predicted living with the nagging inside.

Tenner had to crawl out of this Realm and atone, somehow. Then crawl out of his skin. It was like the layer of grit and grass on his feet after a day at the park.

Below those feet, coils were wrapped around the rusty streetlights to unleash unused electricity. If there was a thing the Realm wasted, it was power. Whenever unsuspecting customers tried to wander through The Sparks, lightning struck. For a moment, the district seemed to jolt with life. Then the person fell. A few lucky ones died on the spot while most slithered away, scarred for life.

There were dead zones, navigated by those who the district wanted. And by one of Kristus’ spies. To get out of this place I gotta get to Gi and to do that I’ve gotta figure out the pattern. That’s at least one thing I’ve always been good at, even before it took hold. The follower in white walked through the street and Tenner focused, tracking his every step.

Did Tenner even deserve CHEK Extensions? Or a shot at the Ultimate Ames offered? He glanced at the weapon collection hidden in his jacket. I do deserve a firing squad -- that’s certain. The sequence of turns disappeared from his mind.

A dafa caught his gaze. It wandered down to the first pair of streetlights. Tenner’s nose prepared for the smell of cooked meat, only that the buzzing air didn’t get a nice scent. A few lights flickered deep in the district and a few tremors ran through the ground, but the dafa passed its obstacle.

Tenner, now, not only watched with interest but memorized every move.

Where most people and rodents were cooked, the bird strolled with ease. It stopped before a T intersection, thought for a moment, took two steps left and made it through.

Smart dafa... The sight brought a note of joy. Then the decision took up his mind again: would he carry on--having committed every sin Kristus’ preachers raved about--or would he do the world a service?

Tenner switched from no to yes every second. He’d nudge himself closer to the edge then back. Then he realized, even if he chose no and fell the three stories, with his stats, he wouldn’t lose even a third of his health.

He was that powerful. So he had to land on his head.

The TV screen of his old home came back. Sometimes, the goons and the villains there realized they were on the wrong side and changed. Why couldn’t he? The hunt had killed hundreds and hundreds of innocents, but it could still be atoned for.

He had to stop the murder-- well, the murder of the wrong sort of people. He had to help some… Become the greatest bounty hunter… Save the world… Then, maybe the guilt would disappear?

I doubt it will. The axe of burden cleaved his back, nudging his decision towards an everlasting no.

He jumped.

Adrenaline shot through every nerve, urging him to move, grab, do something. But he held straight. Then, rolled and broke his fall. If I killed the three most powerful bandits in the Realm, why can’t I kill my past mistakes?

It was worth a try.

***

A cracked metal door rested in the middle of the street, multiple currents of electricity flowing from the streetlights, through the air and into the door. A ravaged one-floor workshop with an open doorway stood beside it.

Tenner wondered if the two things had something in common and shouted, “Gi? Where in the world is your place?” His fingers crossed, hoping the answer didn’t come from the gaping entrance. No response came at all. He danced around the currents in the air and looked up. There was a sign. Rusty, but readable.

“Nevermind -- found it.” As he stepped forward, his gaze fell and met a familiar pair of surprised eyes. “Oh. It’s not a good day for any of us.”

Gi smiled--little soul was behind it--grappled onto Tenner and stumbled to his feet. Tenner took out a few leftover potions from inside his jacket and handed them to his friend. Around this scar-covered hench of a frightening build, he could forget about his weapons, he noticed.

“You coming here right now,” Gi said, wiping his lips, “hurts more than never seeing you again.”

Tenner’s throat seized up. Then Gi’s bruised fist slammed into his shoulder. “I got the kicking I’ve been after, but damn would’ve your hand helped.” He laughed.

“Well, I came with blueprints, but I guess you’ll need a helping hand in clearing out the wasteland in here.” Tenner returned the same.

“Huh, what do you mean? Just a small mess and a few hundred damage -- nothing that could stop me from crafting.”

Tenner’s face glowed.

“Though you did have a good idea.” Gi tossed the chunk of floor to Tenner. “We, by that I mean mostly you, will clean this up.”

The lights went out from Tenner’s face. Such dis-- He cleared his head and got to clearing the rubble. He’d imagined the workshop as a perfectly maintained haven of machinery and it most likely looked that way before Gi tried simulating the end of the world. Piles of trash forming along the walls, they ran down what had happened. Gi ended up more amazed at Tenner’s story than Tenner thought he’d be. At the same, Tenner would’ve enjoyed the peace of spending weeks crafting whilst surrounded by nerdy books that Gi got.

“Well.” Tenner finished with his part of the workshop. “I’d recommend exchanging what remains of this place for a knife without a blade and trading it up into a Centercity tower.”

“Shiny lights and fancy stores seem nice,” Gi said. “ I fucking hate this workshop, it’s falling apart and inconvenient, and I’ll stay here as long as I can. Too much time and effort poured into it. The Sparks are me, at this point.”

“Same case with Realm 349 and me. All my memories live there, but if I stayed, I wouldn’t be here.”

“Bounty hunters are built for traveling the Realms.”

“Henches are after the strongest foe and that you won’t find in The Sparks.” Tenner overlooked the workshop. “Certainly, something strong can arrive, but to meet the strongest you’ve gotta leave your front door.”

“Hmm.” Gi scratched the back of his bald head. “...Gonna show me the blueprints?”

They sat on a torched couch, Tenner took the blueprints he’d found out of his shoes and handed them to Gi. His sooty fingers expanded the recipes and his forearms wiped the marks. “Where… did you find this?”

“Some in the Harvest building in Centercity, some in the Castle of Hate and one from a weird puppeteer,” Tenner said. “I don’t think it matters where they came from. More what they turn into and if you can actually make them real.”

“Don’t worry, I’m just amazed at a bounty hunter bringing me the two year’s work of a dozen craftsmen my level.” Gi put the blueprints closer to his face, smelled them and put them on his thigh. “Might not have been able to craft these when we first met, but now I know I can. It’ll probably take all that you have and a lot more.”

Tenner sighed, getting up. “So it’s time to get back to hunting on the streets…”

“Not one bit.” Gi knocked him back into his seat. “You’ll only have to do one job. Privately.”

“For… you?!”

“The Lords of Electricity.” Gi spun his finger around the room. “They caused this and they will be turned to dust by your hands and your weapons. When you kill those lunarists, I make these blueprints into the real thing. Luckily, the Lords come on a schedule and even though they’ve not been too consistent lately, we know what to expect.”

And I’m back to killing. Tenner shivered. This time it’s okay. The Lords are bad. Really bad. They did all of this and almost killed Gi. They deserve to die. He convinced himself and asked, “Any specific way you want them turned to dust?” The feeling of taking the place of an assassin in the movies brought out a grin.

“Creative control’s all yours.”

“Good. They’re absolutely brutal. By the looks of things.”

Gi nodded.

“Deception is my best friend whenever that is the case,” Tenner said and stood up. His eyes searched the floor then hands gripped his axe and sketched with the handle. “Well, we’ll need ideas. Yeah, mine and yours, even though you don’t want to think. We should get a massive cage, you distract them. And I drop it on them.”

“What if I distract them while you hop on one’s back and swing a carrot on a stick.”

Tenner’s brows furrowed.

“Huh, don’t like it? They could practically run themselves from the Realm!”

“It’s a great idea.” Tenner crouched and etched into the floor.

Now it was Gi’s turn to stare in confusion.

“We both thought of you distracting the Lords of Electricity. How will you do it?”

Gi gleamed with understanding. “I could put on a red swimsuit and solicit them.”

“A shocking sight.” Tenner wrote it down and murmured. “Red swimsuit-- blood! We’ll cover you and this whole place in blood!”

“Make them think someone already came and robbed me?”

“That they already did.”

Gi lost track of things for a moment then leaned forward. “Impostors -- they'll be shocked at that for sure. You come in through the entrance, taunt them and retreat to a fair fighting ground, where the streetlights won’t try killing you.”

“What could make them follow me?”

“Money.” Gi pointed at the briefcase slung over Tenner’s back. “We’ll fill it with creditcoins. Fake ones.” He opened a vault full of tiny metal toys. “I craft these and gift to kids once in a while. They’ll be perfect.”

Tenner grabbed the briefcase. “I don’t even know if I can put things in here.” Haven’t figured out half of its features, yet. He pressed a button on the handle. The briefcase turned to a shield. Another button. It turned to a sword. Third. The thing morphed back into a briefcase and opened. “I can.”

Gi tapped the briefcase. “Those lunarists love electricity. Lords of Electricity -- the name makes it kind of obvious. We’ll have to pad this baby with rubber, just in case.”

Tenner noted it. “You pretend to be dying. I shake a bag full of money and they chase after. Because of Kristus, no street is safer than The Sparks. We’ll end up in the slums. I beat their asses there without breaking a sweat, you are happy and I get my Extensions. As a precaution, we plant a trap.”

Humming, Gi grabbed Tenner’s axe and--beside the plan--started drawing an odd scheme.

“Huh, we’ve got some time, a ton of things to craft and a mountain of materials you’ll need to bring me.”

“Back to Gritty Thingy Row?” Tenner faced the workshop’s exit. He prepared to deal with countless Kristus’ followers and bloody his hands. “Back to sneaking through the streets…”

“Hell no, I get supplies from other places.” Gi handed back the axe and a pair of sunglasses.

[Do you accept Gi’s note?]

A list of tools, wires and parts stretched down to the bottom of Tenner’s vision and continued from the top. His jaw dropped.

“I’ll need bigger pockets.”

***

Bounty hunters, Kristus’ spies and hysterical relatives of dead classless roamed the streets.

Tenner snuck past them, turns and shady corners--behind which Kristus could’ve waited--all while keeping an eye out for creatures. He stopped at the entrance to Via Light and put on Gi’s glasses.

His eyes adjusted to the layer of darkness. In front of him appeared two followers in white. Heart freefalling, he rolled behind a corner and activated all his perks. Everything, but their conversation vanished.

“Is the moon tampering with my mind or did I just see him?”

“I saw nothing. You can stay here. Wait while I finish our route then we’ll return home together, okay?”

They didn’t see me, they didn’t report me. One of the scents of blood dulled. The other, like it said, stayed in place. An incoherent jumble of words left the follower’s mouth and his smell moved a step closer. Tenner tensed. Kristus’ crony turned the corner and stared at Tenner.

Tenner fell to one knee and grabbed his chest. “Oh, father, help! I’m having a heart attack!”

The follower started. “Don’t-- don’t try to deceive me, moon’s sinner. I know who you are.”

“No one knows who poor Gibby is!” Tenner let out through his teeth. “Help me to my feet! Get me a potion! Good god, I’m dying…”

“I’ll inspect you and I’ll know the truth.” The follower wouldn’t back down.

“Please don’t commit such a sin. The CHEK is the moon, not Gibby!” Tenner continued rambling as he fell to all fours. “If you use it, you will be banished to eternal damnation. I know. I heard what your preacher said. And if you let Gibby die, you will be as bad as the sinner you’re so afraid of!”

The follower’s face soured and he turned around, looking out into the street. “There, Toolton is coming -- he’ll know what to do!”

Tenner dropped his body to the ground and held the follower’s foot. “There’s no time…” he shed a tear.

The follower froze. “You… are one of us.” He bent and picked Tenner up.

“Thank you, thank you.” Tenner pointed. “Please, escort me to that shop. There I’ll get potions.”

“Where the sign says ‘Mec’s Machine Parts’?”

Tenner gulped. “Yes! Mec keeps the leftover oils and fluids, and makes unbelievably powerful potions from them. But you’d have to know Mec for that. I’ll throw in a good word about you.”

The follower thought for a moment then dragged Tenner.

Tenner finished pretending to limp, bowed and entered the store, wiping cold sweat from his forehead and taking the glasses off.

Little tarants--creatures with long arms and scarfs of fur around their necks--jumped around the rows of towering shelves, carrying parts to the busy counter in the back. It was a craftsman’s paradise. Tenner squeezed past henches of sizes he never thought humans could achieve and stopped in front of Mec.

The lean, brown-skinned woman in cargo operated three different holograms at once.

“What are your needs -- I’m listening?” she asked without raising her eyes.

“Rolls of size one, two and three wires, a gram of lead, a 1X1 mechanism…” as he read the parts of the list, Mec jotted them down in her holographic screens. A minute passed, then two, and she started struggling.

“Wait up -- fifty laserpistol charges?!” Mec snapped, raising her eyes. For a second she stood narrow-eyed then looked back at the holograms. Her tone subdued. “Do you mean fifty charge innards?”

Tenner blinked. “Yeah, innards.”

The list came to an end and Mec whistled. A pair of tarants landed on her counter and she showed each one half of the items Tenner needed. The tarants jumped to the ceiling covered in wires and navigated through the maze of shelves.

“Now I wait?” Tenner said.

“Not long.” A part dropped onto the counter. “My assistants are the best trained tarants this Realm has ever seen. Like you’re the best bounty hunter.”

“I’ve got fans now?”

“You’ve got people who stay informed who to look out for.”

“Really think I could kill you? I barely made it through those mountains of muscles adoring your parts…”

“I don’t know because I’m just a mastermind staying wary. Tenshot doesn’t seem to be too fond of slum dwellers so I think I’m safe, but thinking that is always a mistake.”

“You’re onto something, that’s certain.” Tenner grabbed a roll of wire that was falling from above him. “How much will all this cost?”

“5,400C$,” Mec said straightforwardly.

“It’s supposed to be 5,000C$”

“There’s a difference between what’s supposed to be and what is so pay up or”-- she glanced at the customers slowly recognizing Tenner--“leave my shop.”

“I’ve gotta bring that price down--”

“I’m not running a market where you can negotiate or a bar where you can put it on your tab.”

“You should.”

“I’m not so are you paying or are you saying goodbye?”

“Paying 5000C$. Tenshot, the most talked about name in the Realm, shopping at your place will cover the rest.”

“The most talked about that shouldn’t be said here.” Mec grit her teeth, nudging the pile of parts towards herself. “You’re seeing yourself out now.”

Tenner nodded. “I am. After I look around for cheaper replacements.” Mec’s eyes widening, he entered the maze of shelves. First, he aimlessly wandered then started grinning at the customers. Discomfort rose. “This could kill a few hundred classless,” he murmured, grabbing an odd metal rod.

The distress weighed on his shoulders too.

Usually, with the help of [True Sneakiness], he stayed invisible around crowds of people. A Kristus’ spy could’ve disguised as anyone. A delusional follower could’ve run to the church and told Kristus himself.

Tenner took a huge risk causing a fuss, but he had to get the parts.

Customers kept their distance, but no one ran or cancelled their orders. Tenner stepped up his game: his hand slithered into his jacket, brushed against his axe’s blade and took the weapon out. He sauntered over to the busy counter.

The discomfort in the air could burst walls

“A customer dropped his parts and ran out the front door.

“Don’t kill me!” A second followed

“Where can I get that axe?” A third reacted wrong -- Tenner flinched and the customer yelped.

Mec hopped over the counter and grabbed the axe’s handle, staring Tenner in the eyes. “If this is how you want to play, if you want to terrorize my shop, I can set five bounties and a sea of hunters after you.”

“Or you can give me the parts for 5,000C$,” Tenner whispered. “A discount will cost you less than convincing a bounty hunter to chase Tenshot, who killed the best hunter in the Realm with this axe. If you got 10,000C$ to spare, then I’m leaving the parts.”

Grunting, Mec let go and leaned over the counter. A CHEKscan emptied Tenner of 5,000C$ and he put the parts into the briefcase, the rest -- into his pockets.

He snuck back to The Sparks, meeting Gi, who’d returned from ripping pieces off other workshops for the last components. Preparations turned up to 11 -- less than a day remained until rent.