Things were progressing at a frighteningly quick pace. Almost unacceptably so. Amelia could move fast when she was motivated, and she was exactly that, for multiple reasons.

First there was her desire to retrieve the cybernetics. They were a serious threat to everyone's safety, just lurking in the ruin where I'd hidden them.

Then there was the obvious curiosity shining in her eyes every time she looked at me. I didn't need to be a genius to figure that one out.

She wanted to see where I'd grown up. I think she'd developed an overinflated idea of the place: some mystical, shadowy part of town where roughs rule and the law was a distant thing.

That wasn't entirely wrong, of course. Except it was all mired in enough misery to choke the life out of anyone. Which was exactly why I didn't want her to come. Nearly everything about the slums was abhorrent to me.

I mean, most of the people were alright. They weren't there by choice. They were doing whatever they had to do to survive.

The minority, though? Those who held true power? They were the ones who made backstabbing and desperation the norm. They set the tone for how everyone else behaved. And they were heartless assholes of the highest caliber, from whom I wanted to keep Amelia as far away as possible.

But my precocious ripper had put her foot down. Now, much to my consternation, all three of us were going. Mela, Amelia, and me.

Only the thought of a sizable mercenary escort kept me sane as they planned the outing. Still, I wasn't sure I'd be able to stop myself from clawing out the eyes of anyone who looked at my lover funny once we were actually in the slums.

I still wasn't sure on this point when I found myself in the back of a surprisingly well-furnished and heavy duty truck, heading straight for the nearest checkpoint that would take us out of the inner district and towards the slums.

"This is… nice," Mela ventured, her eyes panning between my glower and Amelia's bouncy excitement. "Didn't expect it to be nice."

"Yeah, well, if it was a proper military vehicle or whatever, it probably wouldn't be," I groused from my padded, comfy seat with a glass of something in hand. It wasn't alcoholic and it tasted sweet, but I'd still hesitated to take it from the fucking mini fridge they'd had installed. "This is the ride Patch used, so…"

"He's pathetic and cartoonish evil, yes. But we're benefiting from it now!" Amelia cut in, nursing her own drink. "Besides, the other three trucks following us are way more unpleasant, trust me. Especially the two in the back."

It was true enough. Our convoy of four trucks consisted of Patch's in the lead, a secondary for our 'troops', and two more which, on paper, contained more mercs.

In reality, they were empty and completely bare. Save for the bars, of course. The bars meant to stop anyone from getting out without the mercs' say-so. Those trucks were meant to hold the 'merchandise.' We'd brought them only because they were already listed on the papers we were using to get to the slums in the first place.

The trip was… tense. For me, at least. Amelia and Mia managed to get chatter going shortly after we crossed into the middle districts, buoyed by Amelia's excitement. This was her first time leaving the inner districts, after all. She was practically glued to the scroll playing the footage from the truck's external cameras.

Eventually, though, I did notice her enthusiasm start to wane. It wasn't hard to see why.

I'd been to the middle districts before. The place wasn't as bustling and impressive as the inner districts, obviously, but it was still only a small downgrade. At least, it used to be.

Not so now.

The same anxiety and wariness that haunted residents of the slums had infected this place, too. There were far fewer people and far more Peacekeepers out and about, and the locals were eying the bots with some apprehension.

We were getting a glimpse of what the lockdown had done to the wider city, and I didn't like it.

Amelia's mood continued to drop when we entered the outer districts. Color, commerce, and general standard of living kept visibly deteriorating. By the time she got her first look at the slums, her face had fallen into a blank mask.

The slums were a mess.

They weren't completely destroyed by what Amelia's father had orchestrated. That was a relief. But I did see scorch marks on several buildings, and the small structures located between the drab megabuildings were overwhelmingly in disrepair.

I vaguely remembered that one of the collapsed smaller buildings had once been a relatively successful club, but now it was nothing but an abandoned ruin. This unfortunate trend continued: most of the 'successful' businesses I knew of seemed to be wiped out, with only a rare few surviving the upheaval.

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Not all of their buildings were ruined. Some were just… abandoned. Broken windows and shattered doors gave us a glimpse into the gutted internals, some of which had homeless people huddling inside. They flinched at the sound of our convoy passing.

The streets were almost completely abandoned, too. A rarity for the slums? Not really. It was still midday, which wasn't the most bustling period for this forsaken part of the city. Still, there used to be more people just living their lives and doing what they had to on the streets.

I felt… repulsed, to be honest. Like there was a miasma of misery already starting to creep into the truck and infect me like a disease.

I shuddered and moved closer to Amelia, clutching her hand in mine.

"We're close to the mercs' designated parking spot. How far are we from where you left the… you-know-what?" Amelia asked quietly, her eyes flitting between me and the desolation our cameras were showing us.

"Not that far, but it'll take a decent walk to get there." I kept my voice as steady as possible. "Masks on?"

"Masks on," Amelia agreed.

Mela nodded, and we all pulled on the urban camo face masks we'd taken from the mercs' supply. They went well with the rest of the outfits we'd appropriated. Simple fatigues. Combat boots. A military style jacket with plenty of pockets on top of that. A couple guns too, mostly so we had something to show off and discourage stupidity in the locals.

Then we were out of the truck, standing in the large parking lot the mercs had rented ahead of time.

The heat, the misery, and the fucking dust all hit me at once.

My throat went scratchy from the very first breath. I coughed, almost gagging at the horrible feeling in my mouth. Still, I managed to suppress the urge to puke my guts out. I focused instead on patting Amelia's back as she coughed and gagged.

"It'll pass, I promise," I told her, wincing at the outright lie.

It didn't pass. You just got used to it. Not that I wanted us to be there long enough for that to happen to her.

I just kept patting her back and speaking soothingly. "Try to breathe through your nose, and don't open your mouth unless you have to."

"N-No, I'm fine," she insisted, grimacing right after. "I swear I can taste the dirt! How do you breathe normally out here?!"

I shrugged. "You don't. Come on. The mercs have their orders."

She cursed under her breath, spat, and finally straightened, giving me a tight nod. I accepted her call request a second later as we started down the street. It left Mela out, but I could just talk on Amelia's behalf. I didn't want her having to open her mouth any more than necessary.

I hadn't been in the slums for a while, sure, but there were some things you never forgot, no matter how hard you tried. Dealing with the ever-present dust, which blew in from the wastelands and showered everything inside the slums, was just one of those things.

Though… I had to admit I'd gone soft, for lack of a better word. I'd gotten so used to the dust over years of living in the slums that I'd stopped paying attention to it. Now? Now I felt the stupid stuff everywhere. It was torture, even if a familiar one, and I already couldn't wait to get out of the damn place.

"This way," I said aloud, motioning towards a street to our left.

Of course, that earned me a look from Mela. "Yah, that's the way. Dontcha remember I used to live there too?"

I chuckled. "Can't really forget you saving me from getting shanked, Mela."

"Damn right ya can't."

"Wait… shanked?" Amelia cut in over our call. I glanced over to find her narrowed eyes glaring back at me. "You left out that part. Explain."

"Well…" I started aloud, sinking quickly into the story. Honestly, it was a nice distraction. The way I remembered the whole sequence of events even got a few laughs out of Mela.

It still couldn't wash away the misery of the slums, of course. Or my paranoia. That had gotten a little better since we'd taken over the mercs, but it hadn't gone away entirely. Now, as we moved through the depressing streets, I kept sneaking peeks into the future with my Clairvoyance, convinced someone would try some shit.

It didn't happen, but I did catch more than a few eyes tracking us as we passed. Assessing. Evaluating risk versus reward. Weighing the chance for potentially overcoming their circumstances against the speed of our bullets.

So far, the bullets were winning. It still didn't stop me from tightening my grip on one of the guns Amelia had gotten me through Yuri's connections.

The other was currently in Mela's hands, confiscated from me rather quickly when she realized it was the same model she favored. The insane ass was cheerfully swinging the weapon back and forth as she walked, practically daring people to come after us.

Finally, blessedly, we reached the fucking alley.

"We're here."

I glanced into it, resisting the urge to curse. It was even more repugnant than the last time I'd visited. Trash was all over the place, barely leaving enough space to walk without acquiring a thousand and one stains. The dumpster we had to gain access to was practically buried.

"Keep eyes off of us, okay? Or at least keep the nosy fucks from getting close enough to see what I'd doing," I grumbled at the duo. Once I had their nods of assent, I went in.

It was… horrible. I had never been more thankful for the fact that Amelia's psychotic father had lopped my arms off and replaced them with cybernetics. If my arms weren't eldritch pseudo-metal, I'd have gotten poked by about forty needles of very fucking suspicious origin.

As it was, I had to be extremely careful to keep my legs well out of the way of any trash, which was a challenge and a half. It wasn't that I didn't trust the fatigues I was wearing. They were decently tough. But these needles were custom made to let you inject whatever crap they carried even through your clothes. Supposedly, they'd been invented for in-combat use, but… Well. If there was a way to divert something for drugs or sex, then humanity would do just that.

Finally, finally, I managed to clear my path to the stupid dumpster. Then I had to strain my whole body to push it barely far enough to get to the hole hidden beyond it.

My old self couldn't have managed such a thing. The cybernetics plus my improved body had to work. The screeching noise of the dumpster, sliding on wheels which had gotten caked in place by trash, would probably summon the entirety of the slums to us. But I was through.

The relief I felt when my eyes fell on the hastily concealed items was indescribable. I hadn't, in fact, unleashed another horror onto the slums.

Then my blood went cold as I heard shouting from the entrance to the alley.

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