Ten

Mo’s eyelids flickered open, revealing a dimly lit room shrouded in shadows, the air thick with the pungent aroma of oil and aged metal. Scattered across the table before him were relics of past repairs, half-forgotten and half-finished, each casting an eerie silhouette in the weak light of a lone, sputtering bulb. A relentless throbbing pounded in his head, blurring his thoughts. This place was unfamiliar, alien. As he attempted to sit up, a sharp pain speared from his leg up his spine, forcing a grimace. Below him, a makeshift cot creaked, and he noticed a neatly applied dressing on his arm where the searing pain of a recent blaster wound still lingered.

Struggling to his feet, Mo took in the workshop’s chaotic landscape. The room was cluttered with the ghosts of abandoned projects and half-repaired machinery. A holoscreen buzzed in the corner, playing a newsflash about a riot in the Industrial District. His attention was drawn to a photograph perched on a shelf above a nearby workbench. It depicted two men, one unmistakably Kip, the man from the warehouse. They seemed to be caught in a moment of carefree camaraderie, arms around one another and laughing. 

Kip. He must have found Mo and taken him here. But why? His musing was abruptly interrupted by a figure in the doorway – Kip himself, his features etched with a blend of anxiousness and gravity.

“Y-you’re awake,” Kip stammered, his voice breaking the heavy silence.

“Why am I here?” Mo managed, his voice faint but edged with firmness.

“I, uh, found you. You were pretty banged up,” Kip answered, his tone a mix of candor and caution.

“You’ve been following me,” Mo replied. First the call and meetup, now this. It was obvious he had been.

“N-n-no, wasn’t like that,” Kip replied, stumbling over his words. “I was just trying to figure out if you were good. Eclipsis isn’t a safe place for agency-men,” Kip paused, an internal debate flickering across his face. “Saw the wreck, then followed the blood trail. Got this implant that helps me see things, see?” He gestured to his right eye. Probably an older model OptiViz, if Mo had to guess. They had essentially cornered the optical implant market a couple hundred years ago. Even his implant, though new and cutting edge, was a UEA special issue manufactured by OptiViz via a lucrative contract.

As Mo and Kip conversed, Mo’s initial wariness gradually gave way to a reluctant sense of ease. It was oddly comforting to have someone to interact with in this bizarre situation. Five cycles ago- or wait, was it six?

How long had it been since he had arrived here?

No matter. When he arrived, he couldn’t have imagined the case taking the turns it has. Never had he been in such a dire situation during an assignment.

“I have one too,” Mo acknowledged with a slight nod, pointing to his eye as well. “But still. It seems like a lot of hassle for an ‘agency-man’. Why’d you help me?” he probed further.

Kip shifted, a look of discomfort fleeting across his face. His eyes momentarily dropped before meeting Mo’s again. “It’s about Jax,” he motioned to the photograph. “The friend I mentioned before, at the old warehouse.” Kip inhaled deeply, his eyes lingering on the photograph as if it held untold tales. “Jax… I told you how he changed after he got mixed up with those Ascendents. Couldn’t stop talking about how they saw the universe,” he paused, seemingly expecting some reaction from Mo.

Kip resumed after a brief silence. “Well. He told me a little more that I maybe didn’t tell you about at the warehouse.”

“Okay, that’s alright. But you’ll tell me everything you know now?” Mo replied.

“Yeah, I swear.” Kip said earnestly, “So the main thing, they think there’s this big shadowy group pulling strings everywhere. Not just here on Eclipsis, but like, everywhere. They’re the bad guys. Jax said they were keeping all of us from reaching our ‘true potential’.”

“Did Jax ever get into specifics about their plans or anything of that sort?” Mo inquired.

“Not much to go on, but Jax…” Kip’s gaze momentarily drifted around the dusty workshop before he continued. “I reckon he got himself tangled up in something bad, something to do with that Vox lady.”

“Elara Vox?” Mo’s clarified, his interest intensified. An audible voice, not Kip’s, blurted into Mo’s left ear, “Bitch deserved it,” He jolted his head to find no one next to him.

Shit. He probably had a head injury from the car wreck. He did still have a pounding headache, ringing in his ears, slightly blurred vision. Definitely a head injury.

“Yeah, her. Heard bits and pieces after she disappeared,” Kip said.

A new lead struggled to take shape in Mo’s mind. “Wait… Kip. You’re saying Jax, your friend, could be involved directly in Elara Vox’s disappearance?”

Kip nodded, his face etched with concern.

“That’s quite a claim. How did you piece this together?” Mo pressed.

“It’s patchy. After Jax went off the grid, didn’t hear much. But then, one night at Roxzers, I was chatting with Polly, one of the barkeeps there. She mentioned seeing Jax with a group of people, looking like they were celebrating something. Just a few hours earlier. Said they were talking something about a ‘job well done’. Then, later that night, I caught this segment on the E-Newsflash about Vox, and how the Ascendents were involved.”

Mo paused, processing the information. “Any way to track down Jax? Find where he might be?”

“Wish I could. His CommLink’s been dead. Hasn’t shown up at the shop in…” Kip trailed off, lost in thought. “It’s been quite a while now,” he concluded with a nod.

Mo stood contemplatively. He had a lead now, however tenuous. Maybe Kip’s connection to Jax could be leveraged, if they managed to find him.

“You can stay here, if you like,” Kip offered, interrupting Mo’s thoughts.

“Appreciate it. Safer than a hotel,” Mo responded quickly, then hesitated. “But it might put you at risk.”

“I ain’t worried. Besides, might be able to lend a hand with your mission,” Kip offered, his tone earnest.

Mo put his hand briefly on Kip’s shoulder. He could tell Mo was happy with him, for saving him and giving him valuable information. For the first time in a while he felt proud of himself, too. Maybe they really could get Jax back.

A sudden knock on the door shattered the moment.

“ESED. Open up,” a stern voice commanded from outside.

Kip moved toward the door, intent on opening it.

“Wait, don’t,” Mo interjected urgently.

Kip was confused, “But they’re the Enforcers. Aren’t they here to help you?”

“I don’t think it’s safe,” Mo speculated. “Is there anywhere to hide?”

Kip’s eyes darted around, his mind racing. “Here, this way,” he said, guiding Mo towards an ancient plasma-soldering machine. He pushed it aside, revealing a concealed hatch on the floor. Pulling it open, a ladder descended into darkness.

Trusting Kip, Mo swiftly climbed down, the hatch closing above him. Kip returned to the door and greeted the Enforcers.

“Mandatory sector search. Name?” one of them barked.

“Kip H-Halvern” he replied shakily. He was nervous.

The Enforcers pushed Kip aside and swept the workshop thoroughly. Finally, after what felt like hours to Kip, they finally concluded their search.

“The Enforcers are gone,” Kip said softly as he opened the shaft entrance. “We should be safe for now.”

Only, when he had it all the way open, he saw that his new friend had left already. He was probably scared, Kip reasoned. He couldn't blame him. But he was still depressed about it.

Kip somberly stood above the open hatch for several minutes. He started pacing, his steps lacking direction but his mind sharply focused on deciding what to do next. He would investigate, just like Mo. After all, he lived here, he knew it well. And he missed his life, his friend. He knew he could do more for his home.

An idea sparked in his mind: He would go find Polly, at Roxzers. He thought Polly might reveal something more, something important that he could bring to Mo, if he just asked more questions about it maybe. That’s how this investigating thing is done, he decided.

As Kip approached Roxzers, he saw Ilius Thuum leaning against the wall near the entrance, a smoke casually dangling from his lips. Ilius exuded a nonchalant yet imposing presence. He was a large and tall man. Kip quickened his pace, hoping to slip past unnoticed. There was something about him that had always put Kip on edge since he arrived in town. He was a man of few words and infamous for igniting, and decisively ending, many bar brawls.

As Kip tried to slip by, his hope of going unnoticed was dashed. Ilius shifted, subtly blocking Kip's path.

'Hey, Skippy Kippy. Haven't seen you around in a couple cycles,' Ilius remarked, his tone casually obstructive.

Kip, caught off guard, stumbled over his response. 'H-h-hey, Ilius. I, uh, been busy,' he managed to say, his voice laced with nervous tension.

Ilius's eyes narrowed, the air around him seeming to grow colder with his scrutiny. "You sure that's all, Skippy?" His voice took on a menacing edge. "I hear your 'close pal' Jax joined those fuckin’ freaks." He leaned in closer, causing Kip to instinctively step back. "So, what about it, Skippy? You and your lover boy part of that cult now?" His words dripped with mockery and disdain.

Kip's heart raced, Ilius's proximity and insinuations feeling like a physical threat. "It's not like that," he stammered, trying to maintain some semblance of composure. "Jax... I don't know where he is. We're not..." his voice trailed off, realizing any defense might only escalate the situation.

Ilius held his piercing gaze on Kip for a tense moment, "Watch yourself, Skippy," he warned, his tone laced with contempt. "I don’t like those ideas polluting my city, my neighborhood. You hear me?" His words were a clear threat. Then, he stepped aside and continued his smoke.

Kip nodded quickly, eager to distance himself from the confrontation. "Yeah, I hear you." he replied, his voice strained with a mix of fear and eagerness to appease. With one last wary glance at Ilius, he hastened into Roxzers, the bar's door closing behind him like a barrier against the hostility outside.

Polly wasn’t behind the bar today, instead it was that new guy. Jack, or Jacky, or something. His name escaped Kip. Kip didn’t care much for him. Polly had more patience, she was kinder. Kip’s heart sank as his investigative plans fell through. He slid onto a bar stool next to Jerome, a familiar figure at Roxzers. Jerome's presence was as much a part of the place as the aged stools themselves. Noticing Kip’s trembling hands, Jerome gave him a look of concern.

"Rough day, Kipper?" Jerome inquired, his voice mellow with the effect of his long hours at the bar.

"Yeah, just.. Things, you know.. Just stressed out. Not like it used to be around here," Kip replied, his voice tinged with sadness.

Jerome nodded slowly, "Seen a lot in my time, but yeah, this sure is somethin’..." he murmured, trailing off as he sipped his drink.

The bartender walked over to Kip and pointed to him, Kip put his hand up and shook his head, indicating he wasn’t ready to order anything. The bartender gave Kip a slight look of annoyance, then turned around and walked back to the other end of the bar.

Kip sighed out loud, then turned his attention back to Jerome, "Just last week, those peaceful Zailst folks at the temple got attacked, and we still don’t really know who did it."

Jerome shook his head, "Yeah, yeah.. heard about that.."

"The ESED, they're supposed to protect us, right? But they go and raid that cab company on account of suspicions about cult activity. Four people killed.” Kip took a breath, he was getting worked up. “Just a couple blocks from here."

Jerome’s face grew somber. Kip could see he was having a hard time following, he had likely been there drinking several hours already. "Hard times, Kipper... Hard times." Jerome replied.

Kip leaned closer, his voice low, knowing he could talk out loud to Jerome and it would stay with him and him only. "It's like everyone's pickin’ sides. Not just workers against corpos now." Kip leaned in even closer, speaking more to himself than to Jerome. "It's like we're all being pulled into something we don't understand," he mused, his thoughts spilling out.

Jerome absent mindedly put his hand on Kip's shoulder, "Keep your head down, Kipper. Storm will pass." Jerome laughed slightly, before quieting and ultimately going silent, resuming his drink.

Kip nodded.

They both sat there in silence for a few moments. The clink of glasses and murmurs of Roxzers enveloping them in a familiar yet unsettling lull. Kip felt a deep sense of loss. The community he had known all his life was unraveling. The attacks, the raids, the fear. His neighborhood. Jax. His life, their life.

All gone.