RE:VOLT

1

In the heart of Manhattan, the city's frenetic pulse synchronized with the constant flickering of LED billboards. Each building bore the weight of commercial propaganda, as brand slogans blazed across their surface.

Mayor Gerald Copeland had already left his indelible mark on New York. Illegal immigrants had been deported, gay marriage licenses suspended, and climate initiatives ruined. Furthermore, Copeland had ushered in a new era by creating a police ‘urban enforcer’.

Against this backdrop, a lone figure emerged from an all-black squad car. Justin ‘Just’ Harris, an African American man in his late-thirties, carried a muscular frame, with thick stubble and tired eyes. Clad in a black t-shirt, cargo pants and combat boots; a bulletproof vest clung tightly to his chest.

Just strode across the George Washington bridge, where a scruffy middle-aged man stood on the footpath. The man looked out at the Hudson River, tears streaming down his face.

“Sir, everything OK?” Just shouted, moving closer.

“Stay where you are!” the man frantically yelled.

“We’ve had several reports that you’ve been standing here for—”

“Fuck!” the man suddenly screamed. “I can’t take this anymore!”

He turned and sprinted along the footpath, away from Just.

Just could only watch, as the man swept past a ‘WELCOME TO NEW JERSEY’ sign.

The man stopped abruptly, clutching at his chest. He dropped to his knees, limbs trembling as convulsions wracked his frame.

He slumped forward, his face making brutal contact with the sidewalk.

Just strolled over to the man and checked for a pulse.

Nothing.

“Fuckin’ idiot,” Just muttered.

The man had become a victim of another cruel Copeland mandate; fitting pacemakers into prison parolees. These devices would deliver a fatal shock to the parolees’ hearts if they ventured beyond the city limits once released. 

* * * 

As dusk cast a somber hue over The Bronx, a pigeon descended onto a wet driveway. Its delicate form pecked at the damp ground, foraging for the merest of morsels.

The soft hum of a car's engine announced its approach, its headlights slicing through the gloom. With a startled flutter, the pigeon took flight into the polluted sky.

The car came to a halt with a screech of its brakes, its front end aligned with a fence. The stoic chain-link separated the outside world from the looming presence of a prison-barge.

With the car's engine silenced, a rotund doctor appeared out of the driver's door. His aging visage revealed a man in his sixties; wearing a suit and clutching a medical bag.

A prison guard strolled across the dock to a gate. He entered a code into a touchscreen keypad and the gate creaked open.

The doctor made his way to the barge’s lobby, where the atmosphere hung thick. He met another guard, sat behind a desk cluttered with a microwave meal.

The lobby guard’s attention shifted to another keypad, positioned on the edge of the desk. He tapped a string of numbers into it and a steel door on the wall yielded. The doctor moved forward, into the labyrinthine constructs of the barge’s infirmary.

He progressed down a dank and run-down corridor. The overhead lights cast shadows on the peeling paint and worn cell doors.

Slumped in a chair by one of these doors was a third guard. Although the guard had succumbed to the lull of slumber, a subtle cough from the doctor disrupted him.

The guard groggily reached out to a keypad fixed to the door and tapped in a code. A mechanical shudder rippled through the door's locking mechanism as it opened.

The doctor entered the cell, where a hospital bed stood. Garret Kyle, a Native American man in his twenties, sat up in the bed. His slender frame and cascade of long hair were complimented by a disheveled medical gown.

“They sedated you again?” the doctor asked, addressing Garret’s glassy-eyed stare. “Your people never were the quickest of learners.”

He set his bag on the bed and sauntered over to a wall-mounted sink. The doctor’s tuneless whistling filled the air as he scrubbed his hands and then ripped paper towels from a dispenser.

He retrieved a stethoscope from his bag, placed it in his ears and bent over Garrett.

“You're making good progress,” the doctor commented, checking his patient’s heart. “You'll be out of here in no time!”

In a quick burst of movement, Garrett grabbed the doctor’s tie.

“How ‘bout now?!” he demanded, pulling out a metal scalpel hidden beneath his bedsheets.

“No!” the doctor cried, but he was too late.

Garrett viciously thrust the scalpel into the doctor’s jugular.

Blood spurt forth in a gruesome fountain. The doctor clutched his neck, trying to stem the torrent.

In the corridor outside, the guard was lost again in sleep.

His tranquility was interrupted by a series of deafening bangs.

“Help!” the doctor screamed from the other side of the door.

The guard jumped out of his chair and peered through the cell’s viewing window.

The doctor's face had rapidly turned pale, the essence of his life draining away.

“Shit!” the guard cursed, fumbling the code into the keypad.

The door slid back.

Not wasting any time, Garrett threw the doctor into the guard.

The guard collapsed, and Garrett stepped over the now unconscious doctor.

“What's the code for the keypads?!” Garrett demanded, raising the scalpel to the guard’s throat.

“One-nine, nine-two…” the guard stammered.

Garrett silenced the guard with a powerful punch, knocking him out cold.

He moved to the next door, where his fingers danced across the keypad as he entered the code.

* * * 

In the thick of Manhattan’s nocturnal hustle, Just navigated the city’s arteries from his squad car.

His phone, secured in a dashboard dock, rang with urgency. Its screen lit up with the name ‘AMES’, but Just silenced it with a weary groan.

He pulled over in front of a sterile bank and exited his vehicle.

Inside, a teller sat behind the cookie-cutter counter, engrossed in his phone.

“Hey man, what's up?” Just uttered, strolling inside.

“Oh my god!” the teller exclaimed.

“What?!”

“I'm watching you right now!”

With surprise, Just leaned in to see the teller’s phone. A video showed Just being interviewed in front of the George Washington bridge. Behind him, a black body-bag was being loaded into an ambulance.

“I got no idea what would drive someone to this,” the Just in the interview said, before the teller paused the video.

“I've never served a celeb before!” the teller oozed. “Can I get a selfie?”

“Sure,” Just replied unenthusiastically.

The teller snapped the picture, his grin bordering on absurdity.

“I gotta post this!” the teller declared.

“Can I get some cash first?” Just asked, presenting his details.

“Of course, sorry!”

The teller took a few seconds to clack away on his keyboard. “How much would you like?”

“Ten grand.”

“Something exciting planned?” the teller inquired.

“I got two weeks off tomorrow,” Just revealed. “Gonna get on a cruise to somewhere hot in the mornin’.”

“But, who's doing the ‘enforcer’ thing while you're gone?”

“Don't care, as long as it ain’t me.”

The bank manager appeared through a door behind the counter. Carrying a bundle of a hundred-dollar bills, her entrance was marked by an equally exuberant reaction.

“Oh my god!” she began. “Why didn't you tell me Just was here?!”

Just rolled his eyes.

“Can I get that?” he requested, reaching over the counter to grab his cash.

However, the manager had become distracted by something outside.

Just followed her gawk and spotted two NYPD officers on the sidewalk.

“Fuck me,” he mumbled.

He snatched the cash from the manager’s hand and strode to the exit.

On the street, the officers had strategically parked in front of Just’s car.

“Hey Just,'“ one of them quipped. “Captain Ames sent us.”

“For real?!” Just rebuked.

“We're escorting you back to HQ.”

“Why?!”

“Need-to-know,” the officer added.

“This better be important,” Just moaned, pocketing the cash.

* * *

Captain Monahan Ames sat at his desk in police headquarters, slurping a coffee. The glimmering advertisements outside painted ghostly hues across his features, a counterpoint to the blandness of his shirt and slacks.

Just’s entrance into the office disrupted Ames’ moment of contemplation.

“What's with the fuckin' beat-cops?!” Just demanded.

Ames acknowledged Just's presence with a gesture toward a chair. Just remained stood, arms crossed.

“I did call,” Ames responded, taking his own seat.

“Why am I here?!” Just insisted.

Ames leaned forward; his eyes locked with Just’s.

“Four pacemaker parolees escaped the barge in The Bronx. They were in the infirmary after their surgeries, one of them built up a tolerance to the sedation. He killed a doctor, then let out the others.”

“What's this shit gotta do with me?!” Just countered.

“Copeland wants you to bring 'em in!”

“I’m supposed to be on a break!”

“Not anymore!”

“Why does he want me on it?!” Just argued.

Ames leaned back in his chair.

“Because he won’t risk more bad pub by sending regulation badges after them.”

Just's anger was tangible.

“Fuck this!” he declared, storming towards the door.

“Just!” Ames bellowed. “Copeland said you’re fired, and your pension’s gone if you split.”

Just stopped.

“You serious?”

“Do I look like I’m joking?” Ames answered.

Just thought for a moment, weighing up his options.

“Always a rock and a fuckin’ hard place,” he protested, realizing the enormity of his predicament.

2

Inside one of HQ’s briefing rooms, Just and Ames occupied a meeting table. Just took a weary gulp from an energy drink, while Ames brought up a mugshot on a projector.

“Garrett Kyle,” Ames began. “Stabbed the doctor and attacked the guard.”

He shifted to a different set of visuals; abstract paintings that bore little resemblance to the events at hand.

“He was an artist before, sent down for aiding and abetting.”

Images of a man with scars that covered his entire face and body followed.

“This is who he abetted,” Ames explained. “Real name unknown, has only referred to himself as 'Burn' since arrest.”

He played a video. The footage depicted a man with his hood over his head, sat in the middle of an anti-Copeland protest.

The man then doused himself in gasoline and ignited himself with a lighter.

Flames engulfed him in a horrifying spectacle.

“Our mystery-man survived somehow,” Ames revealed. “Six months in hospital, then he’s sent to the barge. No fingerprints; no DNA match.”

Another angle of the video appeared, showing Garrett holding back police and protestors.

“Here’s the other jail-breakers getting their close-up too,” Ames continued, the video changing its focus to two women helping Garrett.

A mugshot of an Iranian-American woman appeared. She was early twenties; with taut, tied-back hair and an intense demeanor.

“Tali Mohammed, was an MMA fighter,” Ames stated, paired with a clip of one of her fights.

“The other helper was Meg Jones,” Ames added, introducing a pale woman in her mid-thirties. “Sci-fi writer, came out as gay a few years back,” he noted, coupling the information with a video of Meg giving a public reading.

“Fantastic,” Just grumbled.

Ames rose from his chair. “You think you can be professional if I send you to Staten Island?”

“What you talkin’ about?” Just replied.

“Copeland’s got a pacemaker perp for you to meet,” Ames continued. “The perp overheard the escapees' plans when they were on the barge together.”

“You kiddin’ right?”

Ames remained composed. “The Mayor wants, the Mayor gets.”

“What you gonna be doin’?” Just queried, also getting out of his seat.

“I’ll scout the barge, we’ll touch base there after,” Ames noted, peering through his door’s window to the bullpen office beyond.

“And work out of your place so we can keep the intel between us.”

* * *

Under the night sky, Just parked his car outside Mayor Copeland’s colossal mansion. The Staten Island street was devoid of the omnipresent ads that dominated the Manhattan landscape.

Just strode purposefully toward the mansion’s imposing wrought iron gate. A member of Copeland’s security detail, donned in an all-black suit and tie, awaited his arrival.

“Go through,” the detail instructed, his hand pirouetting across the gate’s touchscreen keypad.

Just made his way along the path leading to the porch, exchanging a nod with another member of the detail. He pressed the doorbell, its familiar chime echoing throughout the garden.

The door swung open, revealing a Japanese-British woman in her thirties. Her office attire was impeccably neat, with her hair tucked into a bun.

“Hey, you new?” Just asked.

“I'm Noriko Shioya,” the woman answered, her voice carrying an English accent. “Apparently, Copeland’s last assistant wasn’t cutting the mustard.”

They stepped inside the lobby.

“You must be pretty annoyed with the Mayor, though,” Noriko remarked.

“Why?” Just replied.

“Aren’t your holiday plans being canceled by his pacemaker bollocks?”

“You talk like this to everyone?” Just countered, raising an eyebrow.

“Only people that don't seem like complete numpties.”

A door on the other side of the lobby opened, revealing the figure of Gerald Copeland.

His early-sixties countenance exuded an air of confidence. His brown hair and piercing blue eyes perfectly complemented his tailored suit.

“Thanks for coming, Just!” he exclaimed, as a third member of the detail followed him in.

Just could only offer a half-assed smile, still somewhat perturbed. However, they still shook hands.

“Anyway, let's get straight to it shall we?” Copeland instructed.

“Where’s the parolee?” Just inquired.

“Right here!” Copeland relished, pointing to Noriko. “Don’t keep him waiting, Ms. Shioya!”

Noriko could only sigh.

“I was the first pacemaker parolee,” she started. “I used to be a burglar, and I flew over to steal an antique necklace. I got caught and sent to the barge for three years.”

“And?” Copeland chirped.

“I got out a couple of months ago and the Mayor gave me this job to keep me occupied.”

“Noriko eavesdropped on the escapees' plan while she was locked away,” Copeland chipped in.

“You did?” Just probed, turning his attention to Noriko.

“The barge has men and women on the same floors,” she explained. “So, we always shared a canteen.”

“And what did they say?”

“What they actually ended up doing,” Noriko revealed. “I didn’t think they were serious though, you used to overhear chat like that all the time.”

“Anything else?”

Noriko thought for a moment.

“Tali kept saying that 'he' promised that 'he' would always look out for her.”

“You didn’t get a name?”

“Unfortunately, not,” Noriko admitted.

“Is that helpful, Just?” Copeland interjected.

Just took a second to weigh his response. “Could be, sir…” he answered, uncommitted.

“Excellent!” Copeland cooed, giving Just a slap on the back.

With the matter resolved, Copeland took a more relaxed stance. “Any other help I can offer before you head back out?”

Just thought for a moment. “There was something I was wonderin’…”

“What’s that?” Copeland replied.

“Hope you don’t mind me askin',” Just pressed. “But why didn’t you fit the pacemakers with a tracker or some shit?”

Copeland’s mood instantly shifted from lighthearted to sombre.

“I asked that question too, Just,” he expounded. “I kept asking until it ended up in the Supreme Court. And those bleeding-heart judges said unless the poor parolees were under house arrest, we can’t keep tabs on them!”

But as quickly as his demeanour had darkened, Copeland's spirits lifted. “But you’ll show them! I have no doubt you’ll have those runaways brought in by morning!”

“I’m not sure that’s—” Just began, before Copeland interrupted him.

“You’ll have to excuse me,” the Mayor explained. “My favourite news show’s about to start!”

With that, Copeland gave just a firm handshake and retreated into the depths of the mansion. The security detail followed in his wake, shutting the door behind them.

Left in the lobby, Just couldn't help but stand there, bemused.

Noriko, ever the astute presence, joined him again.

“Quite the charmer, isn’t he?” she joked.

“What Copeland said,” Just advanced. “That really how you stayin' over here?”

“Quite ironic, isn’t it?’ Noriko scoffed. “Especially since he’s obsessed with deporting the ‘illegals’.”

She took a second to deliberate something.

“Would you like to get some tea with me sometime?” she suggested.

“Say-what?” Just reacted.

“You're cheeky for an American,” Noriko replied.

“You askin' me out?”

“Yes.”

“So, you want my number?” Just offered.

“No,” Noriko assured. “Don't worry though, I'll find you.”

With a final smile, she ushered Just towards the entrance. “I've got to go too. If I’m moody enough while Copeland watches his show, he sends me home.”

“See you around then?” Just wondered, as Noriko opened the door.

“Definitely,” she agreed.

At which point, Noriko shut the door on Just.

* * *

Just's squad car glided down the police-lined driveway of the prison barge. He stepped out into the night air, where Ames was waiting by the fence, clutching a coffee.

“How was the Mayor?” Ames inquired, taking a sip.

“Helpful as ever,” Just responded.

“Noriko’s info any good?”

“You knew she was the parolee?!” Just questioned, a hint of frustration in his voice.

The corner of Ames’ lips curled into a smirk. “Copeland told me not to say.”

With a shake of his head, Just couldn't help but marvel at how farcical this all was.

“What she heard’s about as useful as anything else,” he divulged. “Any updates with you?”

“Some guy in Brooklyn put an old Halloween mask on,” Ames explained. “Idiot almost had his head blown off when someone thought he was Burn.”

Just managed a wry chuckle, as both men proceeded to the barge.

3

On the prison-barge, the lobby was transformed into a makeshift crime scene.

Portable lamps cast harsh light on blood splatters, their cherry-red stains dissected by technicians.

Just and Ames entered, taking in the grim tableau.

“It's like a butcher’s store through there,” Ames explained, pointing to the infirmary. “The excitement of general pop for us though.”

They made their way up a set of stairs to a rundown corridor, passing locked steel doors. They stopped outside four open cells, each one bearing the scars of its former occupants.

“Take your pick,” Ames instructed. “The escapees' homes before the infirmary.”

Just noticed “BERN AMERICAN DREAM” etched into the inside of one of the doors.

He entered that cell, where the same misspelled phrase had been carved repeatedly into the walls.

“Is this all there was?” Just asked, scanning the room with a critical eye.

“Nobody mailed him,” Ames observed, following him in. “Never had any visitors.”

Just took a moment to reflect on the situation.

“Wouldn’t it have made more sense for them to breakout before havin’ their pacemaker surgeries?” he wondered.

“The infirmary’s the least secure part of the barge,” Ames countered. “But you’re right, doesn’t make any sense.”

He left the cell, moving to the one opposite.

“This was Garrett's,” he invited.

Just joined him, drawn to a set of photographs on the wall. They depicted Garrett with friends and family, capturing moments of pure joy.

His eyes lingered on a photo of Garrett and Tali sharing a kiss.

“Garrett and Tali were a couple?!” he questioned.

Ames shrugged.

Just homed in on a photo of Garrett, Tali, and an old man, taken backstage at an MMA event. The old man was white, with a craggy face and a diminutive stature.

Taking the photo off the wall, Just scrutinized it, thoughts racing.

“He’d always watch out for me,” he murmured.

In the photo, Garrett wore a beaming smile, like he didn’t have a care in the world.

* * *

Garrett, in ordinary street wear, stood on a Manhattan rooftop. He glared intently at a window across the street, surrounded by a smorgasbord of corporate signage.

Below, a smartly dressed woman emerged from the building Garrett was watching.

“His secretary's gone,” Garrett signaled, as the woman hailed a taxi.

Burn stepped out of the shadows behind him, bundled in a hoodie that concealed his scarred head. He spoke in a wheezing rasp, struggling to draw air into his damaged lungs.

“I need you in character again,” Burn sputtered.

“The mute 'Indian'?” Garrett replied.

“We all agreed to our roles. You wanna give up?”

Garrett sighed, resigning himself to the situation.

“Time for our appointment then,” Burn indicated.

* * *

Dr. Levi Shroder, an Austrian man in his sixties, sat behind his desk. Adorned in a suit and a pair of glasses, he spoke out loud, his computer noting the dictation. A large model of a pacemaker perched on a shelf beside him.

Suddenly, the outer-office door was kicked open with a resounding bang. Shroder jumped to his feet, his eyes wide.

“Hello?!” he shouted, grabbing the pacemaker model defensively. “Who's there?!”

The office door swayed open, revealing Burn and Garrett. Burn stepped forward, lowering his hood to show his mutilated face.

“Workin' late, I see,” Burn greeted, his tone filled with threat.

Garrett shut the door behind them and stood guard.

“And it looks like you've got a good grasp of why we're here,” Burn continued, his gaze drilling into Shroder's.

Shroder glanced down at the pacemaker model he clutched. He gulped, swallowing his fear.

“Me and Garrett saw you on the News,” Burn snarled. “You were gloating about how those were a breakthrough.”

“I designed them,” Shroder spat out. “But I didn't put them inside you!”

Burn snatched the model from Shroder's trembling hands. He held it for a moment before carelessly dropping it on the floor.

“I'm sure you heard what happened to the doctor that did put them in us,” Burn warned. “So, unless you want Garrett to do the same to you, I suggest you listen.”

Shroder's face turned pallid.

“What do you want?” he pleaded.

“Deactivation.”

“I can’t turn off your pacemakers!”

“But Copeland can,” Burn pressed.

“You think I have access to him?”

“How did he approve your designs?” Burn asked.

“Over email!” Shroder whelped. “And his chief of staff delivered my mockups!”

Burn moved closer, forcing Shroder to fall back into his chair.

Garrett strode forward and pinned down the doctor’s arms. Burn took a roll of duct tape out of his pocket and secured Shroder’s struggling wrists.

“Who's Copeland's chief of staff?” Burn roared.

“Bitte, I cannot-”

“Tell us!”

“It is Lucas…” Shroder whimpered. “Lucas Hyde.”

Burn grinned, revealing tar-stained teeth.

“And how, doctor, would we find Lucas Hyde?”

* * *

During a relentless downpour, Just parked his car on a suburban Queens street. With a swift sprint, he left his vehicle and dashed toward the entrance of his building.

Inside, he climbed the stairs, his footsteps echoing in the corridor. Reaching his front door, he entered a code into a keypad, and it unlocked.

His apartment was a mix of the billboards' glaring reflections from outside and the muted ambiance within. Just, soaked from the rain, removed his bulletproof vest. He carelessly dropped it on the counter, but the vest slid off onto the floor.

Just reached for a half-full pot of coffee and placed it in the microwave. As the machine hummed to life, an unannounced voice appeared:

“Welcome home!”

Startled, Just drew his gun and spun around. The motion was accompanied by a deafening gunshot, as the bullet struck the wall by the intruder's head.

“Blimey!” the woman exclaimed.

It was Noriko, standing casually in front of Just's computer. She wore an acrylic trench coat, t-shirt, and leggings. Her previously tied-up hair was now flowing freely.

“How the hell did you get in?!” Just demanded.

“I was a burglar, how do you think I got in?” Noriko replied.

Just marched towards her.

“Breaking into a cop's apartment is some kinda game for you?!”

“You did say you wanted some tea!” Noriko retorted, taking a box of Earl Grey out of her coat pocket.

“That's why you're here?!”

“I've got a Copeland update too,’ Noriko warned. “You might not like it, though.”

“This better be good,” Just uttered.

Noriko took a moment to catch her breath. “Copeland made a call after his TV show. He said he's having you arrested for dereliction of duty if you haven’t found the escapees by morning.”

“What?!” Just yelled.

“According to him, it would be an ‘embarrassment’ if his uber-cop can’t find them.”

“Fuck me,” Just grumbled.

Noriko gestured towards the couch. “Take a seat; you look knackered.”

“I'm still not cool with you being here,” Just stated. “How do I know you haven't taken something?”

“If I'd taken something, I'd already be gone,” Noriko assured, guiding him to the sofa.

She headed to the kitchen and glanced around. “What is it with you Yanks and not having a kettle?”

In the living room, Just settled into the settee. He couldn't help but look at the bullet hole in the wall and then his booted-up computer.

“I leave this on?” Just wondered aloud.

Noriko, busy boiling water in a pan, grabbed the coffee pot from the microwave.

“I got bored, so I hacked your password,” she admitted, pouring the coffee down the sink. She then noticed Just’s vest on the floor.

“Do you really have to be such a slob though?” she chastised.

Noriko picked up the vest, causing the photo of Tali, Garrett and the old man to fall out of a pocket.

She snatched it off the floor and examined it.

“What's this?” she inquired.

“Hold up!” Just bleated, racing into the kitchen.

“You think this old guy’s the one I heard Tali talking about?”

“That's confidential,” Just ordered.

“Excuse me,” Noriko retaliated. “These city-hall employed eyes see more sensitive stuff in a day than you do in a month.”

She threw Just’s vest onto the counter, contemplating the significance of the picture.

“If this is a lead, you shouldn’t be skiving off!” she urged.

“You leavin'?”

Noriko replied with a loud scoff.

“I can help after making the tea,” she added.

Just hesitated for a moment as he thought.

“Fine,” he relented. “But, I’m keeping my eye on you.”

“Plenty to keep an eye on, dear,” Noriko teased, extending the photo towards Just.

4

Meg Jones stood outside a Manhattan high-rise, rain battering the sea of billboards around her. She wore a brown wig under a baseball cap, with a casual sweater and jeans.

Lucas Hyde, in his late forties with auburn hair, strolled down the sidewalk. He held an open umbrella above his head, along with a bottle of soda.

Meg stepped out in front of him.

“Excuse me,” she started. “Do you live here?”

Hyde regarded her cautiously. “Who's asking?”

“My friend's got an apartment,” Meg explained. “I tried calling but she's not answering.”

“You want me to sneak you in?”

“Could you?”

“You trustworthy?” Hyde asked.

“Cross my heart,” Meg promised.

Hyde handed her his umbrella and unlocked the building's main door with a keypad. Meg took one last drag from her cigarette before flicking it away. They stepped into the building's lobby, where she gave Hyde back his umbrella.

“What floor did you say your pal was on?” Hyde inquired, as they stepped into the lobby.

“Fifth,” Meg recalled.

“Same as me, maybe I know her?”

“She’s a nurse, so she works weird shifts.”

With matching destinations, they walked to the elevator. Hyde pressed the ‘call’ button, and the doors slid open. He gestured for Meg to enter, and they both stepped inside.

As the elevator began its ascent, Meg's hand began to tremble.

“Feeling anxious?” Hyde queried.

“It happens if I don't have something to take a drag on.”

“Really?” Hyde responded, surprised.

The elevator came to a stop, and the doors opened to the fifth floor.

“What number’s your friend in?” Hyde inquired, as they walked out.

Meg hesitated.

“Not sure, I've only been here when I was drunk.”

They walked to apartment 545, which Hyde stopped outside of.

“So, you were gonna knock on every door and see who answered?” he quipped.

“I'll make myself comfy out here and see if she turns up.”

“I know who you are,” Hyde revealed, shaking his head.

“What's that?” Meg squeaked, her expression shifting.

“Didn’t you escape from the prison-barge earlier?”

Meg's hand began to shake even more. “I-I…”

“You're here because I'm Copeland’s chief of staff, right?” Hyde continued.

Meg swallowed hard, overwhelmed by the revelation. “But…”

Hyde used a keypad to unlock his apartment door, as Meg’s hand shook uncontrollably.

“You really should’ve come up with something better,” Hyde advised.

He strolled into his apartment and disappeared around a corner. Meg could only stand in front of the open door, gobsmacked.

After a moment, Hyde peeked back out.

“Weren't you supposed to get inside my humble abode?” he joked.

Meg finally gathered herself and cautiously entered the apartment. She was greeted by a spacious living room, kitchen, and a window overlooking the Upper Bay.  

“Let's get the big stuff out of the way first,” Hyde addressed her.

Meg took a deep breath, trying to get her shakes under control.

“I know everything about you,” Hyde spoke again. “I went out to take a break from reading your rap sheets.”

He motioned toward a laptop on a table, displaying info about Meg and the other escapees.

“What piques my curiosity is,” Hyde resumed. “How’d you find me?”

“Burn and Garrett,” Meg answered, struggling to stay composed. “They went to Shroder's office.”

Hyde listened intently. “What did they do with him?”

“They said they duct-taped him to a chair and left,” Meg answered. “That’s all I know.”

Hyde weighed up his options.

“How about I call one of my off-duty guys to go over there?” he presented. “If it's like you say, I'll help you get to Copeland.”

“But why?!” Meg blurted out.

Hyde leaned back against the kitchen counter. “I assume your friends are coming later, so why don't we say I'm a fan of your books for now?”

He gestured to the bathroom. “Now, go grab a towel and dry yourself off. You’re making a puddle on my floor.”

Meg's unease began to subside as she mustered a small smile. “Does that mean I can smoke?”

“Only if I can swipe one too,” Hyde chuckled.

* * *

At Just's apartment, the mood was tense. Just sat on the couch, visibly exhausted. Noriko occupied the space beside him, clutching a notepad and metal pen.

“Can you go through that shit again?” Just requested. “My head’s poundin’.”

Noriko began reviewing the information she’d scrawled down. “That was school teachers, college lecturers, and those gallery owners that showed Garrett's art. None of them are the bloke in the picture.”

Just heaved himself up from the couch, letting out a tired yawn. “Maybe we're wastin’ our time, and this is some dude that snuck backstage.”

“Let's take a break,” Noriko suggested, standing up and stretching.

“How’d you end up here?” Just couldn't help but ask.

“I don't seem like the type?”

Just simply shrugged.

“I was surprisingly well brought up in England,” Noriko proceeded. “I even went to ballet school.”

Demonstrating, she gracefully stood on the points of her toes.

“I liked doing something physical, but ballet's so boring. When I started breaking into places, that was exciting.”

“And that 'excitement' got you caught,” Just remarked.

Noriko sauntered closer to Just him, her eyes locked onto his. “Exactly.”

The charged silence between them hung in the air.

“Although,” Noriko mused. “I do wonder what I’d be like if I had someone to steer me along the right—”

She suddenly paused, a realization dawning on her.

“Hang about,” she started. “Has Tali always had the same trainer?”

“Huh?” Just uttered.

Noriko hastily retrieved Garrett's photo and typed “tali mohammed trainer” into a search engine.

Images of Tali's current MMA trainer appeared on the screen. Frowning, Noriko deleted the search and tried “tali mohammed first trainer.”

This time, she found a relevant result. “Dino Minera?”

She tapped “images,” revealing a picture of a young Tali hitting a punch bag. Beside her, Dino Minera looked on.

Noriko held up Garrett's photo.

It was a match; the old man was Dino Minera.

Just acknowledged the discovery with a simple, “Damn.”

“Cheers,” Noriko retorted.

“See if his gym's still running.” Just instructed.

With newfound purpose, Noriko searched for “dino minera gym.”

“It says that he trained Tali as a pugilist first in Brooklyn,” she reported.

“There an address?” Just enquired.

“Only for the gym.”

“I'll search for him in the DMV then.”

Noriko raised her hand, “I've got a login.”

She switched to the Department of Motor Vehicles site.

“The Mayor's assistant needs to look up driver’s licenses?” Just quizzed, raising an eyebrow.

“I slipped someone at work a few dollars, and they got me in,” Noriko explained. “How do you think I knew where you lived?”

“I thought you were a burglar though?”

“It's not all climbing through the bathroom window anymore,” Noriko elaborated, searching for “dino minera” in the DMV.

“Got him!” she declared.

She started a call on her phone, a ringing tone emanating from its speaker.

“Yeah?” a voice answered, marked by a high-pitched whine.

“Mr. Minera?” Just replied, taking the phone from Noriko.

“Who the fuck's this?” Dino responded.

“The same Minera with the boxing gym?”

“Yeah, who the fuck is this?”

“Officer Justin Harris, NYPD.”

“The enforcer guy?!” Dino bleated.

“I've got some questions about Tali Mohammed,” Just pressed.

A brief pause filled the air. “What about her” Dino asked.

“You had any contact with her since she escaped?”

Dino's tone turned defensive. “Get-the-fuck-outta-here. I haven't seen her in years!”

“You sure 'bout that?”

“Yeah, I'm sure, what-the-fuck?!”

“You swear on Tali's life?” Just pushed.

“What kinda fuckin' question's that?!”

“I’m coming over to check out your place,” Just answered, not backing down.

“You seen how fuckin' late it is?!” Dino protested.

Unmoved, Just delivered an ultimatum. “I can either come by myself or I could get a warrant and the whole precinct can tear your shit up!”

“Okay, but—”

Just hung up.

“What's his address?” he asked Noriko.

Noriko promptly jotted down Dino's details on the notepad.

“Can I come with?” she asked.

“No,” Just chastised, tucking the pad and pen into his pants pocket.

“But you’re not kicking me out?”

“I need you here in case you can track down more info for me.”

“So, you want my number?” Noriko offered.

With a wry smile, Just handed her his phone.

“While I've got this,” Noriko explained. “Would be daft not to give you the app I used on your door.”

“For what?”

“Because then you won't have to mess about with warrants if Dino doesn't let you in,” Noriko clarified.

“Every keypad’s already got Bluetooth turned on,” she continued. “Hold your phone up to it, press the red button and the code’ll appear.”

Just grinned. “You make this yourself?”

“I even tried updating it to get past the software in my pacemaker, but the encryption was too good,” Noriko confessed, handing Just his phone back.

“I could get in a world of shit for using this.”

“Bollocks to it,” Noriko rebuked. “Copeland's the one who started playing dirty!”

5

Rain cascaded down upon the Brooklyn streets, casting a murkiness over the graffiti-daubed billboards. Just's car rolled to a halt in front of a brownstone, where he approached the decrepit building.

He pressed the buzzer for Dino's apartment.

Dino, clad in an unkempt bathrobe, leaned out of a third-floor window.

“Yeah?” he whined.

“Mr. Minera, Officer Harris!” Just yelled up.

Dino quickly closed his window and retreated from view. Just released an exasperated sigh, not believing how his night was going.

After a brief pause, Dino's voice crackled through the intercom.

“Fuck it, come on up,” he grumbled, buzzing Just through.

Just waded in and ascended the worn stairs. Dino stood at his apartment door, waiting.

“Mr. fuckin’ face-on-TV,” he grumbled as they went inside.

The living room was a cluttered space adorned with vintage boxing memorabilia. Dino gestured for Just to look where he wanted.

Just commenced his search, moving methodically through the apartment. He inspected the bathroom, then the bedroom, and finally, a closet.

“I don't think you dumb enough to invite me up if she was actually here,” Just remarked, continuing his investigation.

“What the fuck makes you think I'd know?” Dino countered.

Just halted, his glare piercing through Dino's façade.

“You're a bad liar,” he declared.

“What're you talkin' about?”

“Obstructin' police like this, you lookin' at prison.”

“Get-the-fuck-outta-here,” Dino moaned.

“If that's how you want this to play.”

Without further hesitation, Just reached for his handcuffs.

However, his attention was drawn to a photograph of Tali on the coffee table. In the picture, she stood posing outside Dino's gym.

“She's at your gym, ain't she?” Just questioned, shifting back to Dino.

Dino’s eyes grew wide with dread.

“You fuckin' cuffin' me or not?!” he rebutted.

A canny smile played on Just's lips.

“I'm good,” he replied, returning the cuffs to his pocket.

“What the fuck's this?!” Dino shouted.

“You already told me everythin' I need to know!”

Just approached the coffee table and seized Dino’s cellphone.

“What the fuck?!” Dino cried.

“I can’t have you callin' and warnin' her!” Just warned, as he marched to the front door.

“Fuck you, that's theft!”

“I’ll take anythin' I need if it's gonna stop me bringin’ her in!”

* * *

Against the muddy night, Just's car rumbled to a halt before a two-story building. Metal shutters sealed off the front door and windows like a fortress. Across the street, a spray-painted billboard blinked, casting shadows across the gym’s façade.

Leaving his vehicle, Just approached the entrance and inspected the shutters. Finding them locked tight, he ventured down a barely-lit alley to the side of the gym.

Suddenly, a metallic clang rang out as Just tripped over something. He picked up a rusted ring-bell from the ground and threw it into a pile of junk by the wall.

Undeterred, he continued around the far corner of the building. There, on the gym's rear door, a touchscreen keypad was mounted. Pulling out his phone, Just meditated on his next move.

“Copeland started playin' dirty,” he uttered, holding his phone up to the keypad. After a few moments, the code appeared on the screen.

Just entered it and unlocked the door. As he stepped inside, his hand instinctively found his gun.

The ground floor of the gym revealed a boxing ring, surrounded by punching bags. Tali's absence was conspicuous, but a large thudding sound echoed from the floor above.

Climbing a rickety set of wooden stairs, Just tried to stay quiet.

On the second floor, the surroundings transformed into a realm of weight-lifting equipment around a sparring area. There, across the room, Just spotted Tali. Garbed in boxing gloves and gym attire, she fiercely assaulted a punching bag.

Just raised his gun.

“Tali,” he commanded.

She halted her barrage, gasping for breath.

“Impressive,” she remarked. “Thought I was gonna be safe here.”

Just's eyes swept the room, assessing the situation.

“You alone?”

“Yeah,” Tali responded.

“Comin’ in quiet?”

“Do I have a choice?”

She unfastened the velcro around her wrists.

“You hustled Dino?” she inquired, taking off her gloves.

Just shrugged.

“I bet he was mad,” she continued, raising her hands. “But, he's always been a sweetheart to me.”

Just strode towards her.

“Turn round,” he ordered, producing his handcuffs.

Tali complied and Just secured a cuff around her wrist.

“Bring your hands behind you,” he instructed, as Tali obeyed.

Just snaps a shackle on her other wrist.

“Face me,” he directed, lowering his gun.

Tali turned around.

“Glad we could do it like this,” Just commented, his tone almost amicable.

Tali smiled. “Me too.”

In a split second, the atmosphere shifted. Tali launched a vicious headbutt into Just's face. Stumbling back, Just clutched his nose.

Tali kicked the gun out of his hand, sending it into the middle of the room. She followed with a knee to Just's balls, doubling him over.

“You didn't think Dino showed me some of his tricks?!” Tali taunted, hands still cuffed.

Just, struggling to regain his composure, crawled towards his gun.

However, Tali gave him a stiff punt in the ribs.

Even though Just’s vest cushioned the blow, one of his ribs snapped in half.

Just cried out in pain.

“I know you're only doin' your job,” Tali began. “So, I’ll make it fast.”

She delivered a powerful boot to Just’s face, sending him onto his back. Blood streamed out of his nose.

Tali knelt down and put her shin across his throat.

Just punched her legs, but his breathing got fainter.

His hands fell to his side.

A few seconds passed, and he didn’t move.

However, with his last remaining breaths, Just sprang back to life.

His hand delved into his pants pocket, and he pulled out his metal pen.

He clasped it in an ice-pick grip and swung it up at Tali's face.

Tali let out a blood curdling scream as the pen impaled her eye.

In agony, she collapsed back onto her onto her ass.

Just, panting heavily, mustered the strength to grab his gun.

He leveled it at Tali’s head and pulled the trigger.

A gunshot reverberated through the room as the bullet blasted through her temple.

Tali remained sat upright for a moment, as her good eye rolled back. She then slumped lifelessly to the floor.

 Just collapsed beside her, his chest desperately sucking in giant gulps of air.

* * *

Inside the bathroom of Dino's gym, Just stood over a sink; his bulletproof vest, holster, and gun were elsewhere. His right eye was swollen, and a large gash ran across the bridge of his nose.

Turning on the faucet, the water became crimson as blood seeped from his face. The pain emanating from his ribs intensified, prompting him to clutch his side.

Just turned off the faucet and grabbed a towel from a rack. Limping slightly, he made his way out to the second floor of Dino's gym.

Just's eyes fell upon the motionless form of Tali. Her hands were uncuffed, but the pen remained lodged in her eye.

On a nearby hook, Just's vest, holster, and gun hung as silent witnesses to the morbid aftermath. With measured movements, he pulled out his phone and placed a call.

“Tell me you found someone,” Ames answered.

“Tali,” Just replied.

“And?”

“DOA” Just revealed. “It was self-defense, she almost killed me…”

“Where?!”

“A boxing gym, Brooklyn.”

“I got a nugget for you too,” Ames divulged.

“What about?” Just enquired, as he wandered over to a window.

“Last week, I put two investigators on a string of jewelry store break-ins. They found hair at a scene. Guess whose DNA came back?”

Just needed a moment to process this information.

“Noriko's?!” he exclaimed.

“Copeland lost it when I phoned him,” Ames continued. “I sent a squad car over to her place, but she's AWOL. I doubt you'll see her again, but if you do, call it in.”

Just spotted a taxi pulling up outside the gym.

Noriko got out.

“Hello?!” Ames' voice prompted on the line.

“Yeah, I gotta go,” Just hastily replied.

“Message the address and door code for the gym,” Ames responded. “Don't wait for the crime scene guys, get out and find the others!”

He ended the call.

On the street below, Noriko looked up and waved at Just enthusiastically.

6

Just hobbled out of the gym’s rear door and made his way down the alley.

Behind him, Garrett powered out from the other corner of the building.

“Hey!” he bellowed.

Just turned to face him.

Garrett grabbed Just by the throat, brandishing the scalpel.

“Is Tali dead?!” he demanded.

“What?!” Just choked.

Garrett applied more pressure, shoving Just against the wall.

“Did you shoot her?!” Garrett continued, eyes welling up.

Just couldn't reply, his breath restricted by Garrett's grip.

“You know what it's like losing her?!” Garrett cried out, tears streaming down his face.

“She attacked me!” Just gasped.

“Shut up!” Garrett's screamed, as he pulled back the scalpel. “This ends here!”

Before Just could react, a metallic ring echoed off Garrett's head.

Garrett crumpled to the ground, revealing the source of the sound to be Noriko.

She stood over Garrett, clutching the ring-bell.

“Fuck you!” she yelled, as she repeatedly struck Garrett with the bell again and again.

Just managed to regain his bearings, reaching out to grab Noriko.

“Stop!” he shouted.

Noriko, her rage spent, let the bell fall from her grasp.

Just looked down and saw brain pieces leaking out of Garrett’s skull.

“You fuckin’ killed him!” he barked.

“What else was I supposed to do?!” Noriko retorted.

“Why are you here?!”

“I transferred a tracking app to your phone as well!” Noriko explained. “I watched Tali’s fights and came to help!”

She paused to survey the scene.

“Where is Tali?” she asked.

“Dead, inside,” Just replied.

He glanced down at Garrett's corpse.

“We need him in the gym too,” he decided. “I can claim self-d again.”

He grabbed Garrett by the wrists. Noriko followed suit and held Garrett by the ankles.

However, Just suddenly grimaced.

“You alright?” Noriko asked.

“I think Tali cracked a rib,” Just replied.

“I’ll drive you back then.”

“Fine, but we gotta get movin’.”

* * *

The front door of Just’s apartment burst open. Noriko helped Just in, his vest and holster slung over her shoulder.

“As dates go, this isn't up to much,” she quipped.

However, her remark went unanswered as Just leaned on the kitchen counter.

“First-aid kit?” Noriko asked.

Just gestured toward the cupboard beneath the sink. However, Noriko’s hands were still blood-smeared from the earlier encounter.

She moved to the sink and scrubbed them.

“I wasn't expectin' this shit,” Just grumbled.

He pushed himself off the counter and limped into the living room. Weary and battered, he lowered himself onto the couch.

Noriko followed suit, the first-aid kit in hand.

“I’ll tape you up, then I’ll go out and get some painkillers,” she instructed.

Noriko sat beside Just, opened the first-aid kit and retrieved some medical wipes. She started cleaning Just’s eye and nose, causing him to wince.

“How could she do this to such a handsome chap?” she commented.

“You lied to me,” Just interjected.

“What's that?” Noriko replied.

“You said you used to be a burglar.”

“I did.”

“But you sayin' did. Past tense.”

“What are you babbling about?”

“I talked to my commandin’ officer,” Just explained. “Your DNA came back from a jewelry store break-in.”

For a moment, silence cloaked them as Noriko grappled with Just's revelation.

“Shit,” she finally conceded. “Are you arresting me?”

“I should,” Just admitted. “But I'd be dead if you didn't turn up when you did.”

He reached out, his hand finding Noriko's.

“You can’t stay though. If someone finds out you been helpin' me, we’re both fucked.”

“Let me tape you up first,” Noriko offered. “You can’t do it on your own.”

Just contemplated her offer.

“Alright,” he murmured.

“Stand up,” Noriko instructed.

With her assistance, Just rose from the couch.

Noriko unbuttoned his shirt and removed it, revealing two massive bruises that covered his side.

Noriko retrieved a tube of cream from the first-aid kit.

“Why you do it?” Just asked.

“So, I can go back to England,” Noriko revealed, rubbing the cream into Just’s bruises.

“You can't even leave the city.”

“I've been breaking into places ever since I was released. I'm selling what I steal, so I can get my pacemaker taken out.”

“You know someone?” Just questioned.

“A sympathetic surgeon,’ Noriko confirmed. “After it's done, I'm taking a freighter back across the Atlantic and I'll be gone from this bloody town.”

“You can't wait for your parole to finish?”

“I've got two years left. Would you want one of these things inside you for that long?”

Noriko took off her trench coat and threw it on the floor.

She removed her t-shirt, revealing a black bra. On the left side of her chest was a horizontal scar, with a pacemaker bump underneath it.

Stepping closer to Just, she guided his hand gently to her chest.

He listened, hearing the steady rhythm of her heart.

“That the first time you killed someone back there?” Just asked.

“Let’s not… talk about that,” Noriko deflected.

She caressed Just's cheek, her touch gentle.

“To be honest, I'd much prefer a good shag,” she confessed.

“I’ll end up in prison gettin' involved with someone like…” Just began, before trailing off.

“Like me?” Noriko questioned.

Just sighed. “And I ain’t gonna have any kinda life if we don’t—”

Noriko silenced him by placing her finger on his lips.

She leaned in, and they kissed.

For a few seconds, they surrendered to the warmth and passion of their embrace.

Eventually, with a gentle push, Noriko separated herself from Just.

“One sec,” she murmured.

Not-so-gracefully, she slid off her leggings, unveiling a black thong.

“That's better,” she declared.

Easing Just onto the couch, she climbed onto his lap. The weight of the night faded into the background as they sought solace in one another.

* * *

Later, Just quietly snuck out of his front door and into the corridor of his building. He had reassembled his attire, once again donning his t-shirt, vest, and gun-inserted holster.

His steps were measured, and he kept a firm grip on his side.

As Just began his descent down the stairs, a voice emerged from behind him.

Noriko, clad in nothing more than her trench coat, stood at the top of the stairs.

“Leaving while I was napping?” she asked, her words carrying an air of disappointment.

Just turned to face her, his eyes meeting hers.

“Sorry,” he offered. “Had to get something for my ribs.”

Noriko's gaze lingered on him, assessing the situation.

“Why you all geared up?” she questioned.

“I’m gonna do a few laps round the city first, make sure I ain’t missin’ somethin’.”

“Copeland’ll give you more time.”

“Fuck that!” Just retorted. “If I ain’t got Meg and Burn by sun-up, I ain’t hangin’ round for the consequences.”

The air hung heavy, as Noriko chose her next words carefully.

“This is only a one-time thing then?”

“Shit, I didn't mean it like that,” Just tried to clarify.

A sigh escaped him, and he pressed a hand to his forehead.

“I gotta go clear my head.”

With that, he continued his descent down the stairs.

“I deleted your tracking app from my phone too,” he declared. “So, don’t try followin’ me.”

7

Meg stood smoking in front of the open living room window of Hyde’s apartment. She watched as the Staten Island Ferries glided across the dark waters of the Upper Bay.

Meanwhile, Hyde was in the kitchen, talking on his phone,

“So, he's settled?” he asked. “Thanks for taking him home. You can go too.”

Hyde ended the call.

“Shroder's fine,” he shared, glancing over to Meg. “A bit shaken up, but he won’t say anything.”

He made his way over to the window.

“Can I get another one of those?” he asked, motioning at Meg’s cigarette.

Meg reached into her pocket and retrieved the pack. Hyde took one, as well as the lighter. “Good way to unwind, isn’t it?” he volunteered, a faint smile touching his lips.

A few seconds of calm passed between them as they took in the Upper Bay.

“Did you write anything while you were on the barge?” Hyde inquired, breaking the silence.

Meg exhaled a stream of smoke, her expression darkening. “I couldn't in such an ugly place.”

Hyde grinned. “Wanna know something?”

“What’s that?”

“I wasn't lying when I said I'm a fan of your work,” he confessed, nodding towards a shelf. “I've got all your books over there.”

Meg's eyes widened in surprise. “Really?!”

“Got totally hooked after you were on the news,” Hyde continued. “Even bought some first editions.”

“You’re kidding,” Meg exclaimed.

“Look after this,” Hyde requested, giving his cigarette to Meg.

He sauntered across the room and retrieved a copy of ‘Star Crossed Lovers’ from the shelf.

The book's cover showed an embracing couple against a starry background.

Returning to Meg's side, Hyde gave her the book.

“Where did you get this?!” Meg asked, extinguishing her cigarette.

“Online,” Hyde admitted. “Cost a fortune.”

“You want me to sign this for you?” Meg offered.

Hyde seemed taken aback by the suggestion. “No, that's not why—”

“Got a pen?” Meg interrupted.

“Seriously?!”

“I'll inscribe it too.”

Hyde darted off to his bedroom.

Meg placed his cigarette in her mouth, taking a drag as she flipped through the book.

Hyde returned with a pen in hand, beaming from ear to ear.

“Do you know how inspiring this book is?” he asked.

Meg's brow furrowed. “You think a shuddering idiot’s inspiring?”

“Did your hand shake before you went to prison?”

 “It started happening straight after Burn set himself on fire,” Meg revealed, a moment of awkward silence passing between them.

“Anyway, what should I write?” Meg asked, attempting to lighten the mood.

“I dunno, you're the writer!” Hyde replied, holding out the pen.

Before she could start her inscription, the intercom by the front door buzzed.

“Hold that thought!” Meg exclaimed, giving Hyde’s cigarette back to him.

She headed to the front door, where a small screen displayed Burn. He waited patiently at the main entrance, his hood over his head.

“Come in!” Meg instructed into the intercom.

Pressing a button, she granted Burn access. On the screen, he opened the door and entered Hyde's building.

“You're still OK with him being here?” Meg asked Hyde.

Hyde nodded in affirmation as he took a final drag from his cigarette.

“Can I ask you something?” he requested.

“Sure,” Meg replied.

“When you came out a few years back, you weren't scared?”

“I couldn't be something I wasn't anymore.”

Hyde considered Meg’s words. “Do you think… someone in my position… should?”

“Oh,” Meg uttered, eyes widening. “I know it's hard, but you've got to be who you are. What's the point in being someone else?”

“Why aren’t you shaking?” Hyde queried.

“What do you mean?”

“You haven't taken a drag for a couple of minutes.”

Meg blinked, surprised. “You sure?!”

The doorbell rang, causing Meg to jump with fright.

After getting her bearings, she rushed over to answer the door, her hand shaking yet again.

Burn entered, taken aback by Hyde's immediate approach to introduce himself.

“He wants to help us,” Meg explained.

“That right?” Burn croaked.

“Where's Tali and Garrett?” Meg asked.

“They're both…” Burn sputtered, before having to stop. “They're both dead.”

“How?!” Meg gasped, her eyes welling up with tears.

“You haven't seen the News?” Burn continued, his tone heavy.

Hyde walked over to his TV and turned it on. A news report showed Dino’s boxing gym, with yellow police tape cordoning off the area.

“Tali Mohammed and Garrett Kyle were both killed tonight at this Brooklyn boxing gym,” a news anchor delivered. “The incident occurred when they both resisted arrest.”

Meg covered her mouth with her trembling hand as tears streamed down her face.

“Some cop killed 'em,” Burn explained “He must’ve got to Dino.”

He turned to Hyde. “You don't seem surprised.”

“You think I didn't see something like this coming?” Hyde answered.

“What's your deal?” Burn demanded, his emotions simmering.

“I started working for Copeland because I thought he could flush out the cesspit this city’s become.”

He gestured towards the television screen. “But he’s gone way beyond that.”

“Then why haven't you done anything?” Burn probed.

“I've put together all the dirt I could find on him,” Hyde confessed, as he took out a folder from his desk. “But it isn't enough.”

He dropped the folder onto the desk’s surface. “You're trying to leave the city, right?”

Burn responded with a nod.

“And making a political statement too?” Hyde continued.

“What makes you say that?” Burn replied.

“If you waited to be released and did this, nobody would've cared.”

“You don't have a problem with what we did to that doctor and those guards on the barge?”

“You've gotta break some eggs to make an omelette.”

Burn mulled over Hyde's words. “So, how we gonna do this?”

“Copeland demanded that he have his security detail at the mansion,” Hyde began. “How about I order them away? Then we'll take him to his office, and he'll shut off your pacemakers.”

“That the only way?” Burn questioned.

“A pacemaker automatically deactivates at the end of a parole period. But they can be manually deep-sixed with some codes Copeland keeps in his old combination safe.”

“In case of an emergency?”

Hyde allowed a chuckle to escape his lips. “No, so he can do it in front of the cameras if he needs a photo-op.”

“But what about you?” Burn asked. “You're gonna be up to your neck after this.”

“Copeland can't touch me with the dirt I have on him,” Hyde assured. “And what if I wanted to run for Mayor after he's done?”

“Everyone's always got an angle,” Burn retorted.

“What about me?” Meg interjected, voice quivering.

“Stay here,’ Burn instructed. “We'll come back when we've got Copeland.”

“What if that police guy shows up?!” Meg questioned.

“He won't, he doesn't have a clue,” Burn assured.

“He knew where Tali was,” Meg insisted, her distress palpable.

Burn comforted her.

“You'll be fine,” he murmured.

Meanwhile, Hyde retrieved his phone from the kitchen counter.

“Can you ride in the trunk, so the police patrols don't spot you?” Hyde asked. “There's some gas and traffic flares in there, but you'll fit.”

“Got a plan if we get separated?” Burn inquired.

“I'll show you the door codes.”

“Come back safe,” Meg requested.

“Don’t worry,” Burn repeated. “We'll be outta this festerin’ ‘Apple’ soon.”

* * *

Hyde's car rolled to a stop a short distance from Copeland's mansion. He reached for his phone and dialed the security detail stationed at the gate.

“Yo,” the detail answered.

“I got word that Burn's on the other side of the island!” Hyde shouted. “I need you to take him down if he's there!”

“How many of us?” the detail replied.

“All of you!

“We can't leave Copeland unguarded!”

“I'm on my way with another guy,” Hyde argued. “Copeland's sleeping?”

“Yeah.”

“Then he won't even notice!” Hyde compelled. “The reports say Annadale area, multiple sightings!”

“You're the boss!” the detail affirmed, before hanging up.

Hyde looked on as the detail spoke into his radio. With a soft mechanical whir, the gate of Copeland's mansion opened.

The other two members of the security detail emerged from the shadows within. They moved to a black SUV parked across the street.

The trio boarded the vehicle and sped away into the obscurity of the night.

In the wake of their departure, Hyde exited his car. He popped the trunk, Burn emerged and they strode to the gate.

With a flourish, Hyde punched a series of numbers into the keypad. The gate shuddered as its lock disengaged, granting them access.

8

Inside his bedroom, Copeland parted the curtains and peeked out of the window. He wore a pair of pajamas, slippers, and a robe, with a metal lamp on his nightstand casting a subdued glow.

The door opened and Hyde entered. Copeland, his eyes wide with alarm, turned to face him.

“Lucas, what’s going on?!” he demanded.

“Everything's under control,” Hyde responded.

“The detail’s gone!” Copeland exclaimed, panic creeping into his voice.

“I wanted you to meet someone,” Hyde revealed, as Burn entered the room.

“Mayor Copeland,” Burn greeted, extending his scarred hand. “Pleasure to finally meet you.”

Copeland's expression contorted with a mixture of confusion and indignation.

“What the hell, Lucas?!” he bellowed.

“He only wants to talk,” Hyde interjected.

“What do you want?!” Copeland questioned Burn.

“The same as anyone,” Burn croaked. “Give me liberty, or give me death.”

“You look free to me!” Copeland scathingly retorted.

“If you were in my situation, would you call yourself free?” Burn challenged.

“Well, my…” Copeland faltered, struggling to find a response.

“Like I thought,” Burn continued, stepping closer to Copeland. “Would you give one of these pacemakers to your wife? To your kids?! It's always the same with you old rich guys. You come up with these ideas to save the world, but you never think about who you're fuckin’ over in the process!”

“Look,” Copeland insisted. “Either get to the point or get the hell out of here!”

“The point is, we’re takin' you to your office and you're turnin' off this death trap you put in me!”

In response, Copeland's face lit up.

“Are you serious?!” he chuckled. “That’s why you’re here?”

“Why are you laughing?” Hyde questioned, his brow furrowing.

“You thought I'd go with you because you brought this freak?” Copeland jeered, dripping with mockery.

“What are you talking about?” Hyde insisted.

The Mayor's laughter subsided, his expression still one of manic amusement. “If you want me to come, you'll have to carry my cold dead body out of here!”

“Be reasonable, Gerald!” Hyde implored.

“My police-chief father drank himself into an early grave trying to be 'reasonable'!” Copeland blared.

Burn pointed accusingly at his chest. “So, that’s why you want to send people like me to an early grave?”

“If you want your pacemaker out, why don't we get the steak knives?!” Copeland mocked. “I'll whip it out for you right now!”

“This isn't funny!” Burn snapped, frustration boiling over.

Hyde reached out toward Burn. “Maybe we can still get him to—”

“Stop laughing!” Burn shouted at Copeland.

“Calm down!” Hyde pleaded.

“No!” Burn roared, his voice full of pent-up rage.

With a violent shove, Burn sent Hyde sprawling to the ground. He lunged toward Copeland, his hands closing around the mayor’s throat.

Copeland gasped for air, his face reddening as he struggled.

“Do you know what I had to do to get here?!” Burn seethed. “Do you know what I am?!”

In a desperate attempt to protect Copeland, Hyde got to his feet and delivered a hard knee to Burn's stomach. The blow doubled Burn over, temporarily halting the assault.

Gasping for air, Copeland collapsed to the floor, his face contorted.

Hyde dropped down beside him.

“You OK?!” Hyde implored.

“You're fired, Lucas,” Copeland managed to weakly respond.

“I didn't know he was gonna—” Hyde tried to protest. However, before he could finish his sentence, Burn retaliated with a vicious kick to Hyde’s head.

“Get outta the way!” Burn fervently commanded.

With a renewed burst of energy, Burn charged at Copeland once more, but Hyde tackled him.

Copeland took the opportunity to escape, sprinting out of the room.

Hyde struggled to restrain Burn, as Burn fought back fiercely. His elbow crashed into Hyde's face, sending Hyde tumbling backward.

With Hyde down, Burn seized the advantage, mounting him and delivering a flurry of punches to his head. Each blow landed with a sickening thud as Burn's rage poured out.

But Hyde managed to block one of Burn's blows and throw him off. Burn careened through the air, colliding violently with Copeland's nightstand.

The metal lamp perched on top fell to the floor.

“You're fucking crazy!” Hyde yelled, Hyde yelled, his voice trembling with a mixture of anger and disbelief.

Burn reached for the lamp, his grip tightening.

“Everybody's crazy!” he roared, laced with madness.

 A deafening crack followed, as Burn swung the lamp into Hyde's head. Blood oozed from Hyde's temple as he crumpled to the ground.

Burn knelt over him; the lamp raised menacingly.

In a final, feeble act of resistance, Hyde extended a trembling hand.

Burn, consumed by rage, brought the base of the lamp down into Hyde's face again and again. Each strike was more brutal than the last.

Burn finally dropped the lamp and grabbed the keys from Hyde’s pocket.

Exiting Copeland's bedroom, he descended the staircase. The grandeur of Copeland's mansion gave way to the stark reality outside, as Burn emerged through the front door.

His gaze swept the surroundings, searching for any sign of the Mayor. But Copeland had vanished, leaving Burn to proceed on his own.

He went through the open gate and unlocked the trunk of Hyde's car. From its confines, he retrieved a metal gas can and a set of traffic flares; laying them carefully in the passenger seat.

Sliding into the driver's side, Burn cranked the engine to life. He pulled away from Copeland's mansion, embarking on his journey with a singular goal in mind.

* * *

Under the flickering streetlights of Manhattan, Just pulled his squad-car up outside a 24-hour drugstore.

He gingerly eased himself out of his vehicle and limped towards entrance.

His hand instinctively reached for the door, ready to escape into the store's fluorescent embrace. However, the sound of his phone ringing interrupted his momentary respite.

The screen displayed ‘AMES’ and Just contemplated the call.

Reluctantly, he answered.

“Listen Ames, I'm not gonna find—”

“Where are you?!” Ames demanded.

“That’s what I’m sayin’, I can’t—” Just attempted to convey.

“Burn attacked Copeland!” Ames interrupted.

“What?!”

“He got in with the Mayor’s chief of staff,” Ames continued. “Name was Lucas Hyde, he was trying to help Burn escape!”

“Was Lucas Hyde?” Just struggled, processing the unfolding chaos.

“Burn lost it and killed him.”

“Where’s Copeland?” Just sought.

“He escaped to a neighbor's house. Burn fled the scene.”

Shock settled over Just, his mind racing to comprehend the implications of the events.

“What’s Hyde’s address?” he asked.

“I'll message it to you,” Ames assured. “Get down there and kick open every goddamn door if you have to!”

Without hesitation, Just ended the call. He climbed into his car, tires screeching as he accelerated into the night.

* * *

In the shadowy streets outside Hyde's building, Just careened around a corner. His car skidded to a sudden halt, as its rear bumper collided with a fire hydrant across the street.

With a limp in his step, Just hastily departed the vehicle. Ignoring his damaged car, he made his way towards Hyde's building.

Arriving at the main entrance, he discovered the door was locked. He retrieved his phone from his pocket, and used Noriko's app. It displayed the code, and he tapped the sequence into the keypad.

* * *

In the confines of Hyde's apartment, Meg entered the bedroom. She clutched Hyde's pen and his copy of Star Crossed Lovers.

Finding a seat on the edge of the bed, she flipped open the book to its first page.

Despite not smoking, Meg's hand displayed a surprising steadiness.

She signed the book with Hyde’s pen, as she whispered to herself; “Lucas, never let who you are go up in smoke.”

But the tranquility of the moment was shattered as a voice penetrated the room.

“Don't move,” it commanded.

9

Just stood in Hyde’s bedroom doorway, his gun trained on Meg.

Meg's reaction was immediate. She rose from the bed, clutching the book in her now trembling hands.

“You killed Tali and Garrett!” she shouted.

“I ain't gonna hurt you,” Just responded.

“Stay back!” Meg warned, brandishing Hyde’s book as a makeshift weapon.

Just continued to approach her cautiously.

“We can do this nice and slow,” he urged.

Meg, struggling to hold her ground, swung the book at Just. The impact echoed in the room as the book connected with his arm.

“Shit!” Just cursed.

But Meg wasn't done. She swung the book again, and it landed with a resounding smack against Just's ear.

“Fuck!” he grunted.

Just seized Meg’s wrist in an effort to put an end to the struggle.

“Enough!” he bellowed.

The book fell from Meg's grasp, and she was instantly overwhelmed by emotion.

“How did you find me?” she asked.

“Lucas Hyde,” Just explained. “Burn killed him at Copeland's.”

“Oh my God!” Meg sobbed. “It wasn’t supposed to go this far!”

She grabbed Just's hand and pointed his gun at her chest.

“Do it,” she pleaded.

“What?!” Just shouted.

Just tried to free his arm, but his injured rib sapped his strength.

“Let go!” he demanded.

Meg pulled the gun closer with her trembling hands.

“Please!” she screamed.

Just yanked the gun back, and a deafening discharge shattered the commotion.

Meg stood motionless, her life ebbing away as blood fanned across her shirt.

“Thanks…” she murmured.

She crumpled to the ground, as Just stood immobile. His gaze locked on her lifeless form, his emotions teetering on the brink of a breakdown.

However, pain seared through Just's side, causing him to instinctively clutch his injured ribs.

With a grimace, he tore open the velcro on his bulletproof vest. He removed it and then holstered his gun. Each step he took towards the living room was marked by a worsening limp.

As Just entered, Burn burst through the front door, gripping the gas can.

Just drew his gun, but Burn was faster.

He hurled the gas can at Just.

A sickening crack filled the air as it hit Just directly in the sternum.

Just crumpled to the ground, gasping for breath.

Burn saw Meg’s body in Hyde’s bedroom.

“What did you do?!” Burn rasped. “She was unarmed!”

He picked up the gas can and unscrewed the cap.

“I was gonna torch this place,” he continued, before covering Just in gasoline. “But you look like you need a drink!”

Just, struggling to breathe, picked up his gun and aimed it at Burn.

“With all the gas on that, you're gonna blow your arm off,” Burn warned.

Just's finger hovered over the trigger.

However, after a few seconds, he slowly lowered the gun.

Burn grabbed Just by the collar.

“One for piggy!” Burn taunted, delivering a powerful punch to Just's face.

“Two for piggy!” he carried on, striking again with force.

“Three for piggy, four!” he proclaimed, landing a final blow that left Just sagging to the ground.

Burn reached into Just's pocket to retrieve his handcuffs. He cuffed Just's hands behind his back, leaving him powerless.

Burn moved to the window and gazed out at the Upper Bay.

“It’s been years since I saw the sights,” he mused.

He quickly returned his attention to Just, pulling him to his feet.

“You must see them all the time!” Burn remarked.

Gasoline dripped down Just's face as he struggled to comprehend the situation.

“What you gonna do?” he managed to choke out.

Burn guided him towards the door.

“Let’s get some fresh air,” he replied, producing a traffic flare from his pocket.

“It's dark out though,” he muttered, pulling the flare's top off with his teeth.

A magenta flame ignited, casting an eerie glow on their surroundings.

“Try anythin' and I'll light you up,” Burn warned.

* * *

Emerging into the dawn's light, Burn unceremoniously shoved Just out of the main door of Hyde’s building.

“Where we goin'?!” Just protested.

Burn remained tight-lipped, escorting Just past his battered car and down the sidewalk towards the Staten Island Ferry Terminal.

Passersby watched with alarm as the duo moved past them.

“Whatever you thinkin' it ain't gonna work,” Just cautioned.

“Have you always been such a pessimist?!” Burn dismissed, as he pulled Just into the bustling terminal concourse.

Shocked commuters turned in their direction, some raising their phones to capture the commotion.

A terminal cop came down the stairs from the second floor, reaching for his gun. But Burn brandished the flare dangerously close to Just.

“Pull that and he’s dead!” Burn threatened.

“Stay back, I’m covered in gas!” Just warned.

“When’s the next ferry?” Burn yelled at the terminal cop.

“They’re about to load it up,” the cop replied.

“Without inviting me?!” Burn exclaimed, as he shoved Just over to the escalator.

“Radio Monahan Ames at HQ,” Just urged the cop. “Tell him what's happenin'!”

They ascended the escalator, triggering a swift dispersal of startled passengers.

“Sorry, ladies and gents,” Burn declared. “You gotta get the next one!”

As he pushed Just through the automatic doors that led to the boarding ramp, a sense of anarchy settled over the scene.

“Ames is sendin' everything he's got!” the terminal cop updated Just, radio in hand.

“Tell him to bring the News too!” Burn retorted. “This’ll make great ratings!”

In the midst of the growing chaos, the captain emerged from the confines of the waiting ferry.

“What's goin' on down there?!” he asked.

“Two passengers, el capitán!” Burn responded.

“Do what he says,” Just added. “Everything'll be fine!”

“Good advice!” Burn quipped. “Now if you'll return to the bridge so we can vamoose.”

The mortified captain reluctantly retreated, as Burn pushed Just across the walkway into the ferry.

The cop stayed at the other end of the ramp, inside the terminal.

“Bring this ramp up!” Burn bellowed.

“You’re gonna be surrounded by time you get across the Bay!” the cop yelled back.

“Raise it!” Burn snarled.

The cop complied, raising the ramp as instructed.

As the ferry pulled away from the terminal, Burn forcefully yanked Just into the passenger area.

“That got everyone's attention!” Burn joked.

“Goin' to Staten Island again ain't gonna work,” Just voiced. “Copeland's long gone.”

“You still think I wanna get to him?” Burn mocked, unhooking a radio from the wall.

“Come in skipper!” he shouted into the handset.

After a moment, the captain’s voice crackled through.

“We'll be there in—” he attempted.

“Change of plan,” Burn interjected. “Take us to Liberty Island!”

“I can't! It's not part of the ferry's designated—”

“Go to the Statue of Liberty or I flame-grill this flatfoot!” Burn demanded.

A couple of seconds passed as the captain considered his options.

“I'll start turning,” he grudgingly conceded.

Burn dropped the radio and tugged Just up a set of stairs.

“It's time for a more picturesque view!” he declared, as they emerged on the upper deck.

Below them, the ferry began turning slowly.

“This way,” Burn instructed. “We don't have long.”

He dragged Just to the front of the ferry and shoved him down onto a bench.

“Why we goin' to Liberty Island?” Just asked.

“You already know the answer to that,” Burn responded.

“What d’you mean?!”

“What's the one thing everyone’s always forgotten about the Statue of Liberty?” Burn tested.

Just's expression morphed into one of shock.

“It's in New Jersey… not New York,” he realized, his voice tinged with disbelief.

“Bingo!” Burn declared.

“But if we leave the city, your pacemaker's gonna…” Just voiced, before trailing off.

“End of the line,” Burn confirmed, as he suddenly flung the traffic flare overboard.

“Why?!” Just pressed, still reeling.

The adrenaline that fuelled Burn's actions began to wear off, his rasps becoming more pronounced again.

“I'm keeping you alive 'cus I need you to do something for me,” he divulged.

“What makes you think I wanna do anythin' for you?” Just challenged.

“I'm gonna be dead in a coupla minutes,” Burn revealed. “When we get to Liberty Island, I want you to carry me to the Statue, and lie me in front of it.”

“I don't get it,” Just conceded.

“Seems like everyone always misremembers why I set myself on fire too,” Burn muttered.

“Wasn't it an anti-Copeland protest?”

Burn nodded.

“It was a very specific protest,” he added. “We were tryna stop him deportin' illegal immigrants.”

“So?” Just responded.

Burn took a deep breath.

“What's your name?” he asked.

“Justin Harris. Just.”

“Bernando Gonzalez… Bern.”

10

Just’s eyes widened with shock.

“My parents brought me here illegally from Mexico when I was three months old.” Bern explained. “Which means I'm an illegal immigrant and I was gonna be deported.”

Just was too gobsmacked to reply, allowing Bern to continue:

“I’d lived here for 40 years. Then Copeland came along, and we had no right to be here. My boss fired me. My wife left me and took our kids. They were gonna send me back the day after the protest. And if I was gonna kill myself, I at least wanted to make a point. After I survived, Copeland forced these pacemakers inside us, and I knew we could get everyone's attention again.”

Bern tapped his chest. “But, I didn't realize the best way 'til now.”

“Don’t do this!” Just implored.

“When this ferry leaves the city, Copeland's gonna have to answer some questions,” Bern reiterated.

He looked Just square in the eyes.

“So don't let this be a waste,” Bern begged. “You of all people should understand what it's like to be judged for somethin' you didn't have any say in.”

Bern looked towards the Statue of Liberty.

“The handcuff key's in my pocket,” he continued. “The Captain'll unlock you when we dock.”

He sat down on the deck and spread his arms out wide.

“This life's yours, stop wastin’ it!” Bern urged.

“Wait!” Just shouted.

The bow of the ferry crossed the New York city limits.

Bern’s pacemaker activated.

He screamed in agonising pain as it delivered a gargantuan shock to his heart.

The pacemaker deactivated and Bern's body lifelessly slumped forward.

Slowly pushing himself off the bench, Just staggered over to Bern’s motionless form.

He knelt down and placed his ear against Bern's chest.

But there was nothing. No heartbeat, no pulse. Just an eerie stillness that filled the air.

“Jesus Christ,” Just mumbled, as he collapsed back onto the deck.

* * *

The first light of morning illuminated Liberty Island. It cast a warm glow over the dock, where the ferry had just arrived.

Two news helicopters buzzed overhead, capturing the unfolding scene.

The captain extended the gangway between the ferry and the island. Just emerged, staggering under the weight of Bern's body in his arms.

Every step was a struggle as he made his way toward the imposing figure of the Statue of Liberty.

Finally, Just gently laid Bern in front of the statue, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He crumbled to his knees, his whole body trembling with exhaustion.

The sound of rotor blades grew louder, and Just glanced up to see a police helicopter landing nearby. From the chopper emerged Copeland, still wearing his robe, pajamas and slippers.

Following close behind was Ames.

“What the hell are you thinking?!” Copeland's voice boomed.

Just pushed himself off the ground and offered a sarcastic salute.

“Mr. Mayor,” he uttered, the words heavy with contempt.

“Don’t give me that!” Copeland thundered. “What have you got to say for yourself?”

“Bernando Gonzalez,” Just murmured.

“What?!” Copeland demanded.

“His name was Bernando Gonzalez!” Just exclaimed, pointing to Bern’s body.

“Do you think I care?!” Copeland screamed. “Him and his crew were dangerous!”

“They were only dangerous because of what you did to them!” Just yelled back.

“What did you say!?” Copeland screamed.

Just took out his police badge and hurled it at Copeland.

“I quit!” he declared, his resolve unwavering as he walked away.

Copeland's face twisted with rage as he watched Just's departure. “Good!” he spat. “You're through anyway!”

Ames attempted to intervene, reaching out a calming hand.

“Don't touch me!” Copeland barked.

Just got in the helicopter and the pilot started the blades again.

“Do something, Ames!” Copeland bellowed.

“Go fuck yourself, Gerald,” Ames retorted, as he shoulder-barged his way past the Mayor.

“And look,” he added, gesturing towards a group of approaching police boats. “Your ride back’s here!”

“I'll have you both for this!” Copeland shouted, as Ames climbed into the waiting chopper.

With a deafening roar, the helicopter's blades sprang to life. It lifted off the ground, gliding over the calm waters of the Upper Bay.

* * *

Rays of glimmering sunshine filtered through the blinds of Just's apartment. Just gingerly entered, clutching his aching chest and side.

At the other end of the room, Noriko lay asleep on the couch, cocooned beneath a duvet.

Moving with measured steps, Just crossed the room and settled down next to her. Noriko stirred, her eyes fluttering open.

“Hi,” she greeted him.

Her sudden awareness caused her to jolt upright.

“Sorry! I tried to stay awake but—” she began.

Just offered a smile.

“Don't worry, it's good,” he reassured.

“Where have you been?” Noriko inquired.

Just took a deep breath, the weight of the night's events heavy on his shoulders.

“I found Meg and Bern,” he confirmed.

“What happened?”

“They didn’t wanna carry on anymore.”

Just took the ten-thousand dollars out of his pants pocket.

“This enough to get your pacemaker removed?” he asked. “With what you already saved?”

“Yes, but, you can't give it to me!” Noriko protested.

“I can.”

Noriko accepted the money, then leaned over and gave Just a kiss.

“I think some of the Mayor’s goons might be comin’ by,” Just suggested. “So, what'ya say I call a taxi, and we head to a hotel?”

“Do you need to shoot at me again when we’re there too?” Noriko responded.

Just couldn't help but laugh, the strain slowly dissipating.

* * *

Just, dressed in casual clothes, stepped onto the sidewalk outside his building with Noriko.

“You still goin' back to England after your pacemaker’s out?” he asked.

“You want to tag along?” Noriko suggested.

“For real?”

“Everything's going to be bloody boring without you!” Noriko teased.

As a yellow taxi pulled up to the curb, a lone pigeon fluttered onto the asphalt. It pecked at the ground, in search of sustenance.

Just and Noriko climbed into the taxi and, as it pulled away, the pigeon took flight again.

It soared above the ever-present billboards, the thick pollution parting in its wake.