Keira woke to the muffled hum of the city above her. The ceiling of their tiny, crumbling home quivered faintly with the vibrations of machines overhead a constant reminder of the divide between the bas-fonds and the gleaming towers of the elite. Her eyes blinked open, adjusting to the dim glow filtering through cracks in the walls. Beside her, nestled in a makeshift bed of patched blankets, lay her younger brother, Renzo. His face was pale, his breaths shallow.
She brushed a hand over his forehead, frowning at the heat radiating from his skin. The fever hadn't broken.
"Renzo," she murmured softly, giving his shoulder a gentle shake.
He stirred, his green eyes barely fluttering open. "Morning, Keira," he rasped, his voice dry and hoarse.
"You're burning up again," she said, forcing a smile to hide her worry. "Stay in bed. I'll get you something to eat."
As she stood, Keira's stomach churned with guilt. She had managed to bring him bread the night before, but it wasn't enough. He needed medicine, real food things that required money, something they hadn't had in a long time.
She turned toward their small wooden table, where the remainder of the loaf sat wrapped in cloth. Cutting a small slice, she brought it back to Renzo.
"You eat too," he whispered, his thin fingers pushing the bread back toward her.
Keira crouched beside him, tucking the blanket around his frail frame. "Don't argue with me, Renzo. You're the boss today, okay? So eat up."
He gave her a weak smile and obeyed, nibbling at the bread as Keira ran her fingers through his hair. Inside, her mind was already racing. They couldn't survive on scraps forever. She needed another plan.
An hour later, Keira was walking through the narrow, maze-like streets of the bas-fonds, her hood pulled low over her face. The air was thick with the smell of metal and decay. Vendors shouted from their stalls, selling everything from rusted machine parts to questionable food. Keira kept her head down, avoiding eye contact with anyone who might recognize her from last night.
Her mind kept replaying the moment she had crossed paths with those agents. She had been lucky. Kylen the man who had glanced her way could have given her away with a single word. But he hadn't. Why?
Shaking off the thought, Keira focused on her goal. She needed to find something valuable something she could trade or sell. But the streets were unusually crowded today. She had to move carefully.
"Keira!"
She froze at the sound of her name, her heart skipping a beat. Turning slowly, she spotted an older man sitting at the edge of a vendor stall. It was Eli, one of the few people she trusted in this part of the city. He waved her over.
"I saw you running last night," he said in a low voice as she approached. "What kind of trouble did you get yourself into this time?"
"Nothing I couldn't handle," she replied, crossing her arms.
Eli snorted, leaning closer. "Well, you better keep your head down. The son of that vendor you robbed is looking for you. And he's got a few friends with him."
Keira's jaw tightened. "Let them come," she said, though her pulse quickened at the thought.
Eli chuckled. "You've got spirit, kid. But you're going to need more than that. Here." He slid a small, tarnished knife across the counter toward her. "Just in case."
She hesitated before picking it up. "Thanks, Eli."
"Don't thank me yet. Just stay out of trouble."
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Keira spent the rest of the morning weaving through the marketplace, her senses on high alert. She managed to snatch a few small items an apple here, a piece of dried meat there but it wasn't much. Her nerves were wearing thin, and the constant feeling of being watched didn't help.
By midday, she found herself near the edge of the bas-fonds, where the streets grew quieter and the towering walls of the city's middle sector loomed in the distance. She stared at the massive gate that separated her world from theirs. It was heavily guarded, as always.
Just as she was about to turn back, a commotion behind her caught her attention.
"There she is!"
Keira's blood ran cold. She spun around to see three figures pushing their way through the crowd. At the center of them was the vendor's son a burly man with a scar running down his cheek. His friends weren't any smaller.
Cursing under her breath, Keira bolted.
The chase was chaotic, with Keira darting through alleys and scaling crumbling walls. She knocked over crates and barrels in an attempt to slow them down, but they were relentless. She could hear their shouts growing closer.
Finally, she reached the edge of the bas-fonds, where the shadows of the city's towering infrastructure cast long, eerie shapes. There, at the base of the wall separating the two sectors, she spotted an abandoned maintenance tunnel. Without thinking, she slipped inside, the darkness swallowing her whole.
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Kylen stood on a balcony overlooking the city, his sharp eyes scanning the landscape below. His fellow agents stood nearby, discussing their next mission, but Kylen wasn't paying attention.
Something or someone had caught his eye.
Far below, near the dividing wall, he had seen a figure dart into the shadows. She moved with the kind of precision that came from years of survival, her hooded silhouette barely visible against the backdrop of the decaying city.
Kylen's lips twitched into a faint smirk.
"Kylen," one of his comrades called. "Are you listening?"
He turned away from the balcony. "Yeah. Let's move."
But as they walked away, he couldn't shake the image of her from his mind.
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Keira emerged from the tunnel, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. She was safe, for now. But as she leaned against the cold, metal wall, she couldn't help but feel that she had been seen.
Shrugging off the unease, she made her way back home, clutching the meager scraps she had managed to steal. Renzo needed her, and nothing else mattered.
Tomorrow, she would figure out her next move.