Four days before the Selection

"So, Alara," Big Papi asks, tightening his grasp around my shoulders, "tell me about yourself. How's life in the Neon District?"

I clear my throat. I dug this grave myself and now I must lie in it. "Um, well, I, uh, I do what everybody does in the Neon District, I guess? I got a job I like, worked really hard at it, and now I'm really good at what I do."

This draws a burst of boisterous laughter from Big Papi and the rest of the men—even louder than when I first mentioned the Neon District.

"Wow, Alara! Wow, wow, wow! You all hear that?" he asks, receiving a few nods of agreement. "She is spectacular. Now, I need to know, Alara, what does a woman like you even see in Morgan?"

I am not sure why everyone was so impressed by my vague response. Maybe I do have great acting skills.

"Well, they're, um, they're pretty cool, I think." Heat swirls in my cheeks, and I am glad Sánchez is behind me and can't see my face. "What about you, uh, Big Papi," —I'm not sure if I can ever get used to saying this ridiculous name— "could you tell me more about the Piranhas?"

"Ah, yes, of course! The Piranhas, we are family," he declares, thumping his chest at that last word. The other men grunt in approval as well. "Every one of us takes care of one another, and every one of us is there for one another through the toughest times. We never just get up and leave when things are going south, unlike some of our defectors." His eyes dart to the back, where Sánchez trails behind.

Meanwhile, Sánchez remains silent. The only thing I can hear from them is their lethargic footsteps dragging along the road as they trudge behind us.

"Family," I repeat. It sounds appealing, but it still doesn't tell me anything about what the Piranhas is. "But the defectors... are they still considered family?"

Big Papi smirks. "I see what you're getting at. Are you worried about little Mor Mor and how we will treat her? Damn, I am so jealous. What do you see in her? But yes, defectors will be allowed back, as long as they properly redeem themselves. As for Mor Mor, she brought in an awesome new potential member," —he squeezes me on the shoulder— "we might just let her back because of this. We'll see."

I force out a smile, trying to keep up the act as instructed by Sánchez. Big Papi steers me into a street corner, where more rifle-wielding men guard an entrance to a building. A chill runs down my spine. My steps falter, but Big Papi's grip pushes me forward.

As we near the guards, they greet Big Papi solemnly. He nods and releases me.

"Before we enter," —he puts on his sunglasses again— "remove your weapons."

My heart freezes over. "Oh, we- we don't—"

"Don't bother lying," he cuts me off, tapping on his sunglasses. "These metal detector glasses tell me you both have two guns and two daggers under your clothes. Remove them."

I glance back at Sánchez. Their jaw is clenched. An uneasy silence falls upon us as we lock eyes, frozen, while surrounded by multiple guns pointed in our direction.

Sánchez breaks the standstill first. Reaching under their hoodie, they take their weapons off, one at a time, placing them in one of the guard's outstretched hands. I follow suit reluctantly. This visit is not looking good so far. We haven't even secured a mechanic, and we have already gotten our guns and daggers confiscated.

After we are completely unarmed, the friendly smile on Big Papi returns. He lifts his arms for a theatrical salute while two of the guards push the door open.

"Alara of the Neon District, I welcome you to the Piranhas!"

The door opens to a sprawling, bustling area that rivals the crowdedness outside the Tower. Instead of the polished white walls I am used to, red-bricked walls, with an irregular surface as if built hastily, surround the space. People stride to and from the different rooms, pushing carts loaded with weapons or rolling large, industrial pieces of machinery. Each time a door swings open, a surge of noise—chatter, clanking metal, and shouted instructions—pulses through the air. Despite this building holding a small city within it, it still feels spacious, with its high ceilings and bright lights.

I look around, taking in the view. This place is a beautiful fusion of Ground Earth's population density and the Tower's massive structure.

As we walk inside, a few people greet Big Papi before continuing about their day, but one guy halts his steps to stare at Sánchez.

"Wait, is that Morgan Sánchez?"

That seems to get people's attention. A small crowd begins to grow.

"Morgan Sánchez? Is that Morgan the traitor?"

"Why the fuck is she back?"

"Yo, is she spying for the Tower?"

The initial curiosity of the mob slowly turns into anger and hostility. Some of them are even reaching for their holstered guns—wait, why do they get to have guns, but we don't?

Next to me, Sánchez shuffles on their feet. I inch in front of them, hoping that I can shield them somehow.

"Alright, alright, stand down, everyone," Big Papi roars. "Morgan didn't go to the Tower. She just ran away, and she's back with a new recruit for us, so let's all be civil and keep an open mind, alright?"

"She's just back because she needs something from us." The complaints continue.

"Yeah, look, her cyberarm is gone. Life outside the Piranhas is not that great, is it?"

"Serves her right!" a voice yells from the back.

The commotion increases as everyone inches closer and closer to us, screaming at Sánchez and pelting them with questions and demands.

"H- Hey, back off," I cry, but the noise of the crowd drowns out my plea.

"Hey, back off!" Big Papi shouts. His voice cuts through the clamor, silencing everyone. "Dominique wouldn't be too happy if you scare off the recruit, would he?"

That seems to immediately quell the riot. The horde disperses, with a few apologies mumbled to Big Papi and even to me. The original hustle and bustle returns; there are still unhappy murmurs and occasional glances toward us, but we are able to walk through the building with no interruptions.

"Sorry about that, Alara," Big Papi says, "things can get rowdy here sometimes. But I promise we are good people doing good things. I'm going to give you a proper tour of the Piranhas, but first, let's find a mechanic for her." He gestures at Sánchez, who is trailing behind us along with two other armed bodyguards.

Like every other interaction we've had since getting to the Piranhas, Sánchez remains quiet. I wonder if they are plagued by their memories from when they were part of this organization. They mentioned they had to cut themself off from here—and seeing how many people recognize them, they must have had to cut themself off from a lot of people.

"Hey, um," I chime in softly, "Sánchez goes by they/them now, by the way."

"Do you, now?" Big Papi looks over at Sánchez with a raised brow. "I was wondering about that. I'll keep that in mind. Oh, you've grown so much, Mor Mor."

Once again, Sánchez does not respond.

"So, anyway," he turns back to me, "I know that was not the best introduction, but what do you think of the Piranhas so far, Alara?"

"I- I think it's pretty cool. There are more people than I thought."

"Oh, yes, we are one big family here." He points to a young boy pushing a cart full of steel pipes. "That's little Steve over there. His older sister got injured in a collapsed building. We took them in and helped the sister get new cyberlimbs. And that's little Johnny." He motions toward an older boy lugging two large jugs of water. "His parents were killed by NovaTopian soldiers when he was just a child. We took him in so he won't be roaming the streets alone."

Killed by NovaTopian soldiers? A lump forms in my throat.

"That's..." I gulp. "That's really great of you to help them."

"We do what we can, all for the sake of our goal. Oh, hey, Tiffany!" Big Papi stops an elder lady who is scurrying past. "You free today? To work on this one." He tilts his head at Sánchez.

Tiffany gives Sánchez a once-over. "Geez, that needs an entirely new cyberarm. Wait, is that Morgan Sán—"

"Yes, yes, they are," Big Papi cuts her off impatiently. "They're back now, yada yada, I'm bringing them to see Dominique later, but they can't go see him with their arm all messed up like that, you know? You have time to fix this up?"

She tuts in annoyance. "Yeah, I can schedule something for this afternoon. Follow me to get your measurements."

Sánchez and I exchange one last wary glance before Tiffany leads them into a room next to a crate full of mechanical limbs. The two bodyguards tailing us split up—one of them follows Sánchez, while the other continues to trail behind Big Papi.

A mix of worry and relief swirls in my heart. Finally, after all the travels and strange events, Sánchez is getting a new cyberarm. As long as we stick to our act, this visit will be worth it.

"Thank you for doing this, by the way," I tell Big Papi sincerely. "You are all so kind. To be honest, I don't understand why Sánchez would ever want to leave this place."

"And this is why I like you, Alara." He grins. "You can spot the value in something immediately, just like me. But well, things aren't always fine and dandy. For example, our spotty water line and electricity supply may be annoying for regular folks like you, but for a big organization like us, it's more than annoying. It can be disastrous, especially if our backup runs out. Communication lines, security, and we're building a lot of technology that requires constant power through it. Here, let me show you a glimpse of what we have."

We stop in front of a fortified door. Big Papi places his palm on the scanner on the side. The door opens—and a boulder of ice plummets in my stomach.

The room—if it can even be called one with this size—is stocked full of weapons. From the floor to the high, arched roof, carts of weaponry are stacked in every corner. Guns, rifles, cannons, and even tanks and fighter robots—this arsenal can rival any of the stockrooms in the Tower. It is as if... the Piranhas are prepping for war.

Are they?

"Nice, right?" Big Papi smirks. "And this is only a very small percentage of our collection. We spread our resources around in case we get raided by NovaTopian soldiers."

"W- Wow, um..." Everything seems to spin around me. I take a step back to stabilize myself. "This is... great, wow, um, really great for... killing NovaTopian soldiers?" My tone rises towards the end of the sentence unwittingly. Acting is not an easy feat—especially in front of an arsenal prepped for war.

Both Big Papi and the armed bodyguard share a laugh. "Oh, yeah, I'd love to kill some of them," Big Papi says, "particularly that one nasty soldier who's been wrecking a lot of our stockpiles. He has some kind of freak vanishing power too, so we haven't been able to get him. But once we do, I swear I will tear him apart limb by limb."

Vanishing power? Wait, is he talking about Ryan? Had Ryan been sent to destroy their stockpiles? He has never told me what he does in his missions on Ground Earth.

"Anyway," Big Papi continues, "I know we had to take your weapons away, but as you can now see, you can have access to way more weapons once you join us." He takes off his sunglasses and looks at me. His intense gaze stuns me to the spot. "I can tell you're strong and well-trained, Alara. You had to protect yourself while living in the Neon District, and you have my utmost respect for that. We need good and strong people like you here. You and Morgan, if you can keep them in check. I am sure we will accept the two of you into our family—as long as you join us and help us with our ultimate goal."

"Your ultimate goal?"

"Yes." His smile widens. "Destroy the Tower."