I stuffed a thumb in my belt, instantly yanking it back out again as fresh blisters sang with a reminder about my latest brilliant escapade of reckless behavior. The rifleman’s name was Frag, according to his nameplate. Kinda cool.

  The girl’s name was Fig. Fig and Frag, huh? I couldn’t say why their names set me on edge. There were only 26 letters in the damn alphabet. They were both level 6, by the range of their HP. Also not particularly strange. Elora and I were level 6, Jake was level 7, and Akilah had just hit level 8 with the last fight.

  I grabbed Baneheart off the platform and sauntered over—but paused mid-stride, gaze pinging between the two strangers.

  Jake had helped Fig up onto the big charging platform and was doing his Magetechy stuff. Nothing unusual there. What was strange was how the girl was cupping his face, looking soulfully at him, and the way Jake was frozen in place like an ice pop jammed in the freezer all bent in half. I could see the terror in his wide red eyes.

  A glance snapped at Frag caught him watching Akilah with creepy twilight eyes. His pout and intensity reminded me of that vampire movie franchise I wished I could forget. She’d already been targeted once by a dazzling asshole, and I didn’t want to see her suffer a creep who thought stalking was a love language.

  My upper lip curled. I was just lifting my arm to point at the strangers and say something scathing when I felt a strange weight and hands on my forearm.

  I lifted higher to look Elora in the eye. Momentarily distracted by sudden pleasure—I never would have been able to lift a hundred pounds with one arm like this in my old life—I raised a brow. “They—”

  She let go, and I dropped my arm. Her bloodied expression revealed a mischievous fascination with what was going on nearby, and she didn’t seem concerned about the wound anymore. I opened my inventory for a quick search, but I had no bandages, so my suspiciously clean sock and a water canister would have to do.

  A wicked smile quirked the corners of Elora’s lips. She leaned into me and whispered, “Just let nature take its course.”

  “I think Jake’s underage,” I murmured, unsettled by the whole situation. These people didn’t act right: Fig touching Jake like that, and Frag moodily staring like an obsessive freak.

  “He’s not,” she whispered. “He’s just an open book.”

  “Okay, barely of age.”

  She didn’t argue that. I turned away from her with the sock and water equipped. I spilled some on the sock and put the canister back, facing away from the impending train wreck. I grabbed Elora’s chin and turned her face so I could wash the blood off her. She squirmed, trying to see past me.

  “Just let me clean this up,” I growled. “How do you know so much about Jake?”

  “Because I ask questions,” she said smugly, looking back at me.

  As I cleaned her chin and then more carefully scrubbed at her cheek, my gaze slipped past her to the laboratory. One of my personal shortcomings had always been not getting to know people well. A huge flaw.

  “Never asked me anything,” I replied, resuming the detail work of cleaning blood while avoiding the wound.

  “You don’t want me to,” she said easily, as if I were as open a book as Jake. She poked my singed tactical vest and grinned, “You’re a taciturn stoic. At least your sarcasm keeps you from being boring.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I sighed, letting go of her chin.

  I glanced over my shoulder. Jake drew back from Fig, fumbled with his med kit, and babbled to her about follow-up and wound care. Meanwhile, Akilah crouched beside a pile of junk, sorting through parts; little thumps and clangs told how quickly she was sorting through them.

  “Help Jake with his wing hole; I’m gonna keep ol’ creep eyes busy until we’re patched up and ready to go.”

  Jake twisted, unable to quite reach his wound. Fig was already there, reaching for the med patch-thing in Jake’s hand. Elora smirked, the glint in her eye suggesting unspoken secrets as she moved towards them.

  She truly was fae at heart.

  I aimed straight for Frag, conveniently positioning myself between him and the still rummaging Akilah. I met his gaze and gave him a toothy grin. “Hi. So, who are you? You didn’t say before.”

  “I am Frag. I’m Forgeborn, from Valumbra. Where are you from?”

  Cyborg guy spoke like he’d pre-scripted his words. At least he was looking at me with those intrusive purple eyes instead of Akilah. The corner of his mouth quirked up, his gaze dropping. When his eyes rose to meet mine, I sensed a vague flirtatiousness, as if he were coy no matter who he was talking to.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  “Earth. New arrival,” I stated. Even though it felt like months ago. Years, even. It had only been ten days.

  “I was impressed by your bravery,” he said, his voice low and respectful.

  I scratched my temple, wincing as blisters came into contact with my hair, like razors to my sensitive skin. “Yeah, and you’re a good shot. What did you guys come down here for?”

  “The Den bounty. I have the bounty items, if you would like some,” he offered. He held up his hand, and four aluminum badges appeared.

  I held my hand out, wiggling my fingers at him. He dropped them into my hand. I squinted at him and then at the badges. His face gave nothing away, so I slipped them into my inventory and said, “Thanks.”

  Once I’d put the badges in my inventory, I distributed them to the others. I glanced over my shoulder at Akilah. “Ready to get out of here?”

  She rose, brushing her hands on her thighs. Her gaze slipped to Frag, and whatever else she might have said, she held back. “For now.”

  “Good game,” I said, turning away from Frag. It was a crap goodbye, but I couldn’t think of anything better. Instinct was pushing me to end this conversation.

  I stilled when he put a hand on my shoulder to stop me. Thankfully not the one that got lashed. I shrugged away from the touch and looked at him.

  “Will I see you again?”

  My lip curled up. The way he said it echoed the time I’d met Jake back in 1925 New York, when he insisted I promise to meet him again. Frag’s question felt wrong, desperate, and manufactured. What was this guy after?

  “Dunno. It’s a big city. Maybe. Take it easy,” I said, backing away and out of arm’s reach before I turned.

  Fig had her arms around Jake’s waist, and I couldn’t lie to myself. The look on his face made me grin. His arms shot up, and he looked around before gently patting her back, his expression a cross of wonderment and fear.

  Yes, Jake, a girl is all over you, and she’s hot. I kinda got where Elora was going when she suggested I just let it play out. Jake’s flailing was entertaining.

  “Thank you for saving me, Kelego Belial. I owe you favors, so find me, okay? You better promise?” Fig propped her chin up on Jake’s chest, fluttering her lashes at him.

  Elora hovered beside Jake, arms folded over her chest, her face twitching with barely controlled mirth. So mean. I guess that made me an asshole, too, because I had to suppress my own grin.

  “I—well, um, I guess I could— meet me at Ellie’s shop in the New York district?” he suggested, eyes flicking at data I couldn’t see. “Day after tomorrow, high sun?”

  “Yes,” Fig breathed, finally letting go of him. “I will. I would love that.”

  “Dude,” I groaned, walking toward them with a roll of my eyes.

  Elora slammed a hand up in a stopping gesture at me. “We all need some R&R after this. Don’t be a downer.”

  I narrowed my eyes at her. “Cool. Then you get to chaperone.”

  “What?” Jake cried, looking between us. His mouth hung open in a mix of horror and shame. He’d agreed to a date and might’ve ended up with a babysitter.

  “Gladly,” Elora beamed.

  Fig took his hand in both of hers and swung it briefly before glancing back at Frag. She let go of Jake and bounced over to Frag and chirped, “Ready!”

  My lip twitched in a half-snarl, but I let it go. I tossed the whole situation into a ‘no longer my business’ box and flicked a hand at the passage we came through. “Let’s go.”

  Akilah cast a glance back at the workshop as she passed me. At first, I thought she was looking at Frag, but then I saw the line of her gaze. Her gaze swept hungrily over the components strewn about, like she was being led out of a junkyard pick-and-pull dream.

  Naturally, Fig and Frag followed us the whole way back to the surface, negating my awkward goodbye and making things extra uncomfortable. Elora encouraged Fig's flirtation with Jake by holding his hand and asking him questions about food. Instead of calling her out on her little game, I took Elora’s scout position. I asked Frag to take the rearguard. I didn’t trust him, but he was a damn good shot, and if he’d have wanted to kill us, he’d have done it during the boss fight.

  I led the way back to the mouth of the cave. To my relief, Fig and Frag waved and left without further interaction or suggestions of stalking. Jake gave me some of his med pads and told me to sleep with them on my wounds. I shot a glance at the horizon, then at the clock on my HUD. I could get a nap in before I had to get up for Alga’s daily chores, so I bid them goodbye and headed home.

  Alga was cleaning up after the late crowd when I shoved through the door, dead on my feet. Her squint took me in. She wasn’t usually talkative. Mostly left me to my designs. She seemed to approve of me hanging out with Voj’Kasak. I could tell by how her face was less stony. My Orcish was getting better, too, more fluid. I didn’t have to re-translate the word arrangements in my head so much.

  Alga let me have it as soon as I stepped inside.

  “What are you wearing?” She barked, tossing down a rag. She strode around the bar and came straight at me.

  I looked down at my gear: plasma-burned vest, a leg of my pants torn open, shirt in strips on one side, all bloodstained, and then the pads stuck to my palms and fingers like half-complete gloves. She stopped right in front of me, grabbing the shoulder of my vest and giving it a yank, her lips twitching with disgust.

  “Armor?” I replied, confused and more than a little nervous. She was shorter than me but built like a bulldozer. I looked down at her arm and felt a twinge of jealousy at the thick twist of muscle on her forearm. I realized with a shudder that she could snap me in two.

  “Disgusting. No more of this,” she growled, grabbed one of the velcro straps and yanked; the tearing sound of it made me suck in a breath. She waved a hand at the door, scowling at the world beyond it.

  “I don’t have anything else,” I said. I didn’t say ‘better.’ No need to make it worse.

  She turned and stalked off, apparently done judging my armor choices. I headed for the back room and the stairs, but paused at the heavy thunk of something on the bar. A bowl. Then a horn cup. A weary smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. I sat down and ate.

  When I got to the bunkroom, I set the egg on the trunk by the window so it could catch the first light of dawn.

  It was supposed to hatch soon. I was looking forward to seeing what emerged—even if it turned out to be something lame.

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