Page 39 of Fatality

Elyas sighs and runs a hand through his copper hair, looking more disappointed in himself than frustrated.

“I know.” He grimaces. “At least ten thousand credits.”

“But I swear...” He shakes his head. “I was practicing at first. Then I went down to the Lower Layers and saw some insane shit. So, I made a bet.”

He winces.

“But I lost, so I had to pay them back somehow.”

I drag both hands down my face in exasperation.

“Okay, okay.” I sigh “What insane shit did you see that was worth ten fucking thousand credits?”

“Come with me.” He's already heading for the door. “I was actually about to go back there. I want to participate and win some money to pay you back.”

“Elyas, it's fine.” I wave him off. “And I'm tired. Honestly, I was just going to stop by, grab the tattoo machine, and go back to my loft.”

“Riv, I know I do stupid shit all the time, but come with me. It'll only take a few hours, and you'll be home as soon as it's over.” He pauses. “Please. I want to pay you back.”

He presses his hands together in an exaggerated pleading gesture.

I glare at him for a second before rolling my eyes.

“Fine. Okay, okay. But only two thousand credits. You keep the rest if you actually win something.”

I start walking toward the door.

“Fuck yes!” His blue eyes light up instantly. “That's the Riven I know!”

He practically jumps like a kid who just got handed a trampoline.

“You'll see.” He slams the apartment door shut behind him. “You won't regret it.”

The neon lights are dirtier down here, dimmer, less polished, their glow spilling over the exposed wires snaking along the buildings.

I stay close to Elyas, making sure I don't lose him. I've never been here before.

Hell, I didn't even know places like this existed, I knew the Lower Layers were here but this?

No.

The city feels different down here, dangerous.

Not like getting into fights with girls or guys back in high school for messing with me.

This is different, a whole other level.

The air smells of metal and rain soaked into concrete that never quite dries.

Pipes crawl across walls and rooftops, and the buildings look like they've been patched together over decades, as if nobody ever bothered rebuilding them properly.

And the people, they wear louder clothes, more colors, more tattoos, piercings and there are mods everywhere.

Some have steel spines, others wear strange masks lined with glowing neon, and I have no idea what they're even for.

In the Upper Layers, people have mods too, but they're usually for work, medical reasons, or other government-approved purposes.

Here, it's the complete opposite.