Page 18 of The Danger Kiss

The buildings in Project D were either remarkably tiny bungalows or impossibly high buildings with hundreds of apartments within. It was a mishmash of infrastructure built out of what was necessary and affordable at the time, by whoever needed and could afford to do so.

Everything in the place stood and festered under the shadow of the Diesel Dome. Most everyone in the project made a livelihood out of the tournaments and activities in the Dome.

This was where I used to live, before I had the gym and the tiny living space above it.

"Looking for someone, Dalek?"

As I made my way to my old neighborhood, I saw Gavriel, an old rival fighter who made no attempt to conceal his personal disdain for me.

Gavriel stood in my way, a hulking mass of sinew and malice, his eyes gleaming with malicious intent.

"Out of my way, Gavriel. I don’t have time for petty old grudges right now.”

"Petty?" he scoffed, his face contorting. A small crowd of people had started to gather around us. “You humiliated me in the ring, Dalek. That isn't something easily forgotten."

He lunged at me, his fists raised belligerently.

"Very well, then," I sighed, deftly sidestepping his assault. I gave the small of his back a little push, sending him face-down onto the curb.

"Is that all you have, Gavriel? It’s more pathetic than I can recall.”

“Fuck you, Dalek,” he roared from the ground.

“That’s fucking enough, you moron. I have no quarrel with you, but if you get up, you won’t be able to walk again. Do you fucking understand what I’m saying?”

“Fuck you,” he repeated.

I stepped back and walked away without responding. As I moved down the street, people got out of my way.

As I walked deeper into the heart of Project D, I found myself asking everyone who would speak to me if they had seen a newcomer to the neighborhood, a woman with dark hair and, perhaps, violet eyes.

I was confronted by a veritable assortment of shadowy figures, each one’s intentions more questionable than the last, but each one a potential source of information regarding Blanca's whereabouts.

I knew in my heart she would find her way back to Project D.

Just like me, this was the only place where she’d ever felt safe in Asphalt City.

Just like me, she’d found comfort in the embrace of the shadows.

six

The Encounter

As the sun began to set over the Diesel Dome, I eased my way through the throngs of people in Project D’s marketplace, the dense crowd seemingly impossible to navigate.

My heart pounded with each step, the sheer presence of so many living, breathing people threatening to suffocate me. I was seeking dinner, at the very least, but the sights, sounds, and smells of the bustling market threatened to overwhelm me.

The magnitude of the crowd was something I was not prepared for, no matter how many times I had told myself being around other people was a necessity in my mission.

The air was thick with the aroma of spices from a thousand different worlds, blended together like an exotic symphony. The melody of bartering voices mixed with the sizzle of meats cooking over open flames. I took in the vibrant colors of fruits stacked high in wooden crates and the glistening scales of fish laid out on ice. This was a far cry from the sterile, echoing confines of my family’s mansion.

"Fresh apples! Only three credits a piece!" a vendor shouted, waving me over to his stand. I hesitated for a moment before approaching. With gloved hands, I picked up an apple and silently paid the man with a swipe of my watch. He flashed me a toothy grin before turning his attention to another customer.

As I continued deeper into the market, I noticed a sign for an inn. It would be a perfect place to rest after a long day of traveling and negotiating, but the ongoing tournament had filled every room to capacity. I sighed, disappointed at the prospect of having to find accommodations elsewhere.

"Looking for a place to stay? The hotel may still have rooms, but they’re really expensive now." An elderly woman selling rice cakes pointed me towards a hotel on the other side of the Diesel Dome. It was the more gentrified area, where visitors of better means usually stayed. It was the kind of place my mother favored.

“Thank you, but I don’t think I can afford it.” The idea of venturing beyond Project D made me uneasy, especially at night. In this neighborhood, I knew exactly where I stood and what I had to do. In other places in Asphalt City, I stood out like a thorn.

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