this is a scr33nshot from my board called manics :

...

The knowledge that Reid saw my body, with every black bruise and red mark wedged between every ropey muscle and scrawny rib, makes my cheeks heat with humiliation.

But what's worse, is they healed those wounds away with a machine. Everything. My ribs, my throat, the cuts and grazes, the bleeding in my eyes—they healed my stiffness, hell, I look as pretty as that stupid fucking doctor. But every time I'm reminded of how good I feel, and how shit I felt, it just... it makes me wan' throw a fit. How can I like what they're doing for me? They're the reason mum is gone. Guilt twists in my stomach. In a strange way I miss looking how I felt.

Now I hurt but I just can't pin where.

Thinking about it just rubs my nose in how little Lake Darling had... has?

I keep thinking like the city is dead; like it was fucking bombed and I'm done locked out of the walls that I spent my life sneaking through. Cold rage is worse than hot rage. It's cruel, like my city... it eats you alive and twists every good moment into a bitter poison.

They transferred us to a place called the residential wing which is just as lavish as the rest of the compound, but now we're waiting for clearance to go eat. We stand at the entrance of the dining hall that's filled with our friends like prison inmates who're locked out of our own lives.

"Hospital transfers clear." A soldier finally reports, and on queue other soldiers start uncuffing us, earning sighs of relief.

My soldier, a short guy named Corporal Jones, grabs my arms and programs my cuffs to release, hooking them to his utility belt before he turns to another person. Reid's hands hang behind his back but Corporal Jones moves further into the group which leaves me unsupervised. I slip a ring off my finger and take his wrists, but Reid looks at me accusingly, going tense, "What you doin'?" He snaps.

"Put your back to the wall," I order, looking sharply at the soldiers before I inspect the cuffs strapped around his veined forearms. None of the company branding is on the outside, but I need to know which manufacturer supplied the army because it'll give me a hint of which drop routes they're using.

My eye can't blink a read on the description of the cuffs, just that it's an unknown electronic device.

The control device blinks into a little passcode menu, but I wedge my ring into the feeder-mech and pry the cover back, feeling for the dead man's chip. He makes a noise of discomfort and arches his shoulders, "Vi." He hisses, eyeing the soldiers.

A younger kid with a mullet, acne, and black teeth, peacocks his dislike as he stomps around, accidentally bumping me but, unable to lose my hold on the cuffs, I stumble into Reid's back.

His arms are firm and hot to the touch, and my cheek brushes his shirt. My heart flips when his stride falls between my own legs for balance. On the inside corner of the chip reads, VD for Vertigo Designs. I accidentally hit the chip which defaults the cuffs, making them hiss as they release before I slip them into my pocket and step away. Fuck, I didn't mean to steal.

But at least I figured out they're buying gear from Vertigo Designs so that means they'll have drop routes into Holders Bay which is perfect. Maybe I can get out of here.

I lean on the wall as Corporal Jones approaches us, "Your go, mate." He says but Reid scratches the scar on his temple. I gaze at the pale line but my stomach twists with the memory of why it's there and I glance away.

"That guy took 'em." Reid gestures and Jones believes his quick lie easily.

"Oh righto," He looks tired. The device on his shoulder talks.

"Hall B clear for entrance."

"Barra, we're clear," He turns to a soldier who lifts a linen sack and starts handing something out. Instantly my eye lights up with a bunch of useless glimm-screens.

Unknown Device. Unknown Device.

I look down at my hands, irritated, but then I stiffen. Hovering over my wrist another glim-screen appears. Unknown Device.

"Listen up!" A soldier calls, "Before I let you's go eat, I've got to talk you through the basics as you's missed brief last night. Sergeant Barra is handing out your individualised devices which you may activate by tapping the base of your palm on the smooth panel at the back." He demonstrates and his device lights up, "The doctors gave you nano-tech injections." What? I narrow my eyes, looking at my palm. I only noticed it now because my hands were cuffed behind my back.

Nanotech is impossible to deactivate unless you have a comm-device. Fuck. Scor and I stole one, but he would've dropped them on Heretix by now.

"They're giving us phones?" Someone asks.

"These devices will be the way you move throughout the compound. They contain your schedule, your credit debt, and a list of laws—unlawful conduct will be punished with considerable fines, jail time, and force."

Sergeant Barra fishes through the bag before he hands me my device, but when our eyes catch, I stiffen.

His brute features are sun-beaten and weathered, two jagged scars stretching from cheek to cheek like someone tried to cut a Cheshire smile into his face. He's Lake Darling. The Hounds used to leave that mark on enemies. But the Hounds are dead now, that's a scar from another time.

His nose has a rightward bend, like someone broke it and he never bothered to break it back into place. But behind the brutish face, he has dark blue eyes, surrounded by thick, jet-black eyelashes.

A chilling wave of De Ja Vu hits me, and I gulp.

Sergeant Barra pulls a double-take on me like I'm a ghost too, before he shares a look with Corporal Jones.

"I know, it's fuckin' freaky." Jones agrees and I nearly open my mouth.

Did he recognise me? But from where? Could I have looked familiar? The only person I look like is Tokyo. He has blonde hair but other than that we're near identical.

Could they have served with Tokyo? "Duke would flip." Barra grins at Jones and I watch them sceptically, but then Barra winks at me as he passes.

Barra looks up at Reid next, but they share a hostile look and he shoulder smacks him.

Reid practically reeks of dislike as he stretches his neck and looks ahead at the hall entrance, glowering.

I nearly pounce an arsenal of questions on him but I can't while the guard is talking so I focus on the phone, logging in like the soldier demonstrated. It lights up but then the screen blinks into a weird page titled: Subject RF62 Miss WARRENDALE, Violet - Declaration of Consent.

Signature Required.

That's the thing Carden signed for me. I try to exit but when my skin connects with the glass it starts scribbling something on my behalf before it turns into a green tick. Accepted. "What the fuck?" I

"Open the book symbol and have a look through with me," The soldier lectures, and I nearly roll my eyes before I reluctantly glance through the 'laws'.

Disrespectful conduct to army or medical staff will result in a credit fine [19], which will contribute to a subject's credit debt [6].

Violence directed at peers, army, or medical staff will be detained with necessary force [76] and will result in a credit fine [19], which will contribute to a subject's credit debt [6].

I skim through the rest of it. So, they're charging us for everything? The food we eat, the electricity we use, the clothes we buy?

"Gang affiliation is not tolerated. You hear that. No, gang memorabilia! To get your food you use—" He rattles off some dull instructions but then someone exits the halls and I glance ahead.

Trent walks with his hands in his pockets, glancing at the gathering of hospital discharges in lacklustre boredom but then a lightning bolt electrifies his features into a hostile sneer. I stiffen.

Grease permeates from Trent's every pore, and his dip-dyed hair sticks to his temples like shreds of paper. His wife-beater top reveals his sun battered arms which are leanly muscled and grimy with old sweat... but his glare is so feral that worms of discomfort wiggle all over my skin.

Trent curls his lip at me like a threatening dog, and I swallow. I think he knows. A flicker of that night grips me by the throat, like I can sense Mal's ghost preparing to grab me with a drug mask again.

I send Trent a poisonous smile as he trudges dangerously close, but he refuses to drop his glare like some mutt trying to challenge me. With a snicker, I trace a line across my throat like the way I killed Mal, and he lunges at me but I make myself stay still. "I'm gon' kill you, bitch-."

"Oi! Oi! Fuck are you doin' mate?" Two of the soldiers' lurch to attention, and grab him, wrestling for control. Trent makes a noise like a pig being killed, grappling desperately to swing at me, but I just lean on the wall with a bitchy grin to disguise my thudding heart.

"You're fuckin' dead!"

The soldier's restrain Trent and drag him away and we both watch him go.

"What the fuck did you do?" Reid snarls at me.

...

My stomach churns as we pass through the doors. We make our way through the busy hall, and I glance between the subtle divisions throughout the mess of tables and people. Reid and I approach a table of two guys, each sweating bullets as one holds his stomach. The other groans as he incessantly itches his forearm as though there are bugs crawling under his skin and he's trying to peel each of them out.

I wrinkle my nose, equal parts of pity and vigilance pinching me. They're withdrawing from whatever fucked up shit they're addicted to. There's nothing more dangerous that an addict without it's poison.

Reid pushes me past first, keeping a hostile eye on them as he trudges behind. I cast my gaze away when I hear retching noises, trying to focus on the adverse glares that begin to weigh upon us.

It's easy to discern who's Ghoul, Hound or Yakuza. Even easier to determine who thinks of me as an enemy.

Neither of us likes to admit it but walking together is unfortunately the only thing keeping the hostile attention as mere eyes on us. "Who you gon' sit with. Yakuza or Ghoul?" I snark as we walk, tugging my neckline so I can get a bit more air.

He ignores me, but then a muscle in his cheek flags, and he grins callously.

"Too bad they didn't abduct that Manic of yours, but I'll bet Hito got plucked," He scratches his chin, "Guess there's a perk to having three boyfriends." Some guy scrambles to get out of his way, but he just arches his brow.

My jaw drops and my lip curls in outrage, "So who's number three?" Is he seriously that egotistical?

This time his features narrow into a smug grin, "I figured Elias, but it's your world princess, you can have four boyfriends if you want."

We stay silent when we enter the Ghoul tables, recognising many faces, but both of us fail to greet anyone for fear of the bad blood it could stir. Reid is a traitor, and I had a fight with the king of the city the night before the abduction, so it's safe to assume I'll be dubbed as untrustworthy again. "Did you know that soldier?" I ask.

Reid catches eyes with someone ahead, shooting him a grin that reveals his white teeth and perfect jaw as he nods. "He seemed to know you." Is all he says, "Micko, what's good?"

Micky-Trick, one of the warehouse guys my brother used to be friends with, knocks fists with Reid, "What's cookin' bruv? I heard you took two down!" He exclaims, but Reid doesn't bother to reply as he looks around for someone.

I smile at Micky-Trick, half-hugging him in greeting, "Violet, long time, eh?"

"Yeah, man," I give him the closest thing to a smile that I can muster, but my heart starts thumping when I realise I can't see Elias.

Saxon sees me, then he glances at Reid and nearly rolls his eyes in contempt before he says something to Masaki and Cola. My features descend into a darker glare. Cola. I never wanted to see the bitch again.

"Vi!" Someone interrupts and when I spin to look I sight familiar brown hair, detailed line-art, a Roman nose and a neck tattoo of the Ghoul eye. He's upset. What's wrong?

"Vi!" He shoves Micky-Trick and Reid aside before he scoops me up urgently, "No fucking way!" His voice weakens, "No fucking way!"

I realise he's shaking, "What's wrong?" I squeeze him tightly.

"Was it your blood?"

"What?"

"When we landed, they carried you out unconscious. You was covered in blood. What happened? Honey, I been sick all day, I thought you were dead," He crushes me so tight that my back cracks.

"No, no, I'm alright," I say as he places me down, "I, they sedated me. What about you? What about Shell and Binnie?" My voice goes thick when he starts fussing over me, pushing my hair back like his Nona used to. She was Italian so she used to shower you in kisses and cry for love... I loved her when I was a kid.

He swallows harshly, "They got Ibis. You seen him?"

"No," My voice cracks but he shushes me and pulls me into another hug.

"Don' cry, don' cry or I'm gon' cry." He smooths my hair down again and it takes everything not to gush out a confession. I imagine my father, grappling at mum's limp body, squeezing her to his chest, screaming, her hair dragging in the puddle of blood.

I let him go, unable to hold it together as I sniff.

"What happened to you? After the party, I lost you." He frowns, gearing up to give me a lecture that I definitely deserve. 

I glance at everyone. "Can we sit-."

"You two should've been partnered," Cola interrupts, and I press my eyes closed, wincing when Elias spins around. He gets mean when he's upset.

"Shut up you green-eyed fucking snitch. I remember what you said in front of Craig." Ouch.

Elias fixes her with a nasty expression, but she just spins around and he laughs cruelly. I take out a chair, gesturing for him to sit but he shakes his head and leads me to the table he was seated at before he saw me. The chaos around us makes it hard to hear or focus. It feels like people are crawling on top of each other.

I hate crowds.

"What happened, Vi?" He snaps, but then he sees my defensive glare, and his eyes soften, "I'm sorry, that really riled me up." His angry dock-side ascent eases and he focuses in on my discomfort so he sighs, ruffling his hair up, "You want some chicki?" He gestures a chicken wing at me and I arch a brow as he starts gnawing on it.

"Oh. Meet Giselle.... Giselle, meet Vi. Now," He directs his gaze to a small girl with pitch-black hair and gaunt features. Her eyes are rung by dark circles, and her lips are chapped with little patches of eczema caking at the edges of her features, but beneath the youth of her appearance, there's a cheeky grin. He points the chicken bone at me, a piece of meat dropping on the table, "Ellie, I wan' you to go easy on Vi, yeah? No stealing, no wise stories." 

Gisselle tries not to gawk at me. "Elias." She hisses before she darts her eyes across me. Her cheeks are flushed from the overwhelming hall, and her sleek black hair is cut short, like she did it herself, but the swell of youth in her skinny cheeks makes her look like she's always smiling, which is kind of endearing.

She's tiny.

"Go on, say hello. Vi won't bite, unless you call her Princess." Elias mock-whispers and I fight off a smile before I finally meet Gisselle's gaze. 

"Hi. You can call me Ellie, if you want." She talks quick, casting a nervous glance at Elias who pauses his meal and looks up at me. Why is he sitting with this kid?

I give her the best smile I can muster, "How do you know each other? Again?" I ask, but then Elias grimaces and Gisselle looks down...

"They partnered us," She mumbles.

Vomit climbs my oesophagus because she can't be older than fourteen. Elias is twenty-two. Giselle tries to hide the flush in her cheeks with her stick-straight hair, but, unable to conceal my repulsion, I glance away. Three guys leave the chairs beside me. They glare at me in contempt as they go. The hall pumps with noise, making my heart race. This feels like the beginning of a riot.

"Did you want me to go and get you some food?" She offers, her little black eyes wobbling up at me.

I blink at her, "I, nah that's okay. You should eat yours first." I swallow and she gives me a dorky grin.

She picks at a stalk of broccoli, as opposed to Elias who considers licking his plate clean before he shoves it away, picking the chicken off the table.

"Jesus this hall is geeking me out, I feel like I can't breathe," I complain, looking at Gisselle who looks back at me like she can't believe I'm wilfully engaging with her.

She nods quickly, "I feel like someone's gon' pick a fight. Makes it hard to eat."

I give her a close-lipped smile in agreement, glad to see that despite her round and youthful face, she's not naive enough to think we're safe in a place like this.

Elias gently grabs my arm, saying, "We'll go as soon as we eat. What happened to you after the party?"

I shift reluctantly, deciding I owe him an explanation, "I left but then that prick Mal followed me." I shrug, "Went home cause I had a couple things I needed to pick up. Soldiers got me that morning." My voice is painfully devoid of emotion.

"Mal? I swear I should'a decked that cunt." Elias flexes his knuckles to suppress his rage, "Who'd you get paired with?"

"I-."

"Me." A deep, smooth voice rolls down my back, and my skin puckers into goose-bumps. Reid places a plate in front of me, taking me off guard.

...
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these are Vi's eyes when the soldier asks why her eyes are bloodshot btw (because of the strangulation)

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