The city never rested. It was continuously buzzing, like a broken machine that would not cease whirring. If you listened closely enough, you could hear everything. The drone of aged motors, the faraway echoes of fights and struggles in the alleys, the clash and clatter of metal striking metal.
Everything and everyone was in perpetual motion, locked in a dance that never ceased, always trying to survive in this urban nightmare. I loathe it, yet cannot escape it.
The flimsy duvet felt like sandpaper against my skin as I hauled it off and shoved it to one side. The mattress was an absolute travesty. It was more like a brick of concrete with a tattered sheet on top. I couldn't recall the last time I had a good night's sleep, whereas I could tell you the precise number of times I haven't been woken up by explosions or gunshots.
I glanced over at my sister, Violet. She was curled up on the sofa, her face relaxed as if lost in a fantasy about better places, a dream away from The Loom and the horrors that come with it.
I, on the other hand, wasn't much for dreaming.
The room was always cold when the sun peeked above the horizon, but I had long since become accustomed to it. I stretched, freeing the lingering stiffness in my limbs and grabbed my coat hanging from the back of the nearby chair. It was torn at the sleeves and had a small cavity in the back, but it was my only defence from the icy breeze and downpour, which would have bitten through my skin.
The loudspeaker crackled to life above me, jolting me from my thoughts. The spokesperson's voice was always the same. Too rehearsed, too flawless, like they were trying too hard to be encouraging, to be inspirational.
"Citizens of Virelia. We, The Union, protect. We Threadbearers are your shield. The fate of The Loom depends on you all."
I halted mid-motion, tilting my head as a prickling sense of unease washed over me. There was something off about it today. Something about the way the voice dragged on those words, like they were too heavy to carry.
But then again, I'd listened to that exact thing hundreds of times before. Every day. Every week. My whole life.
I shrugged and walked past the cracked mirror by the corner, catching a glimpse of myself in it.
I looked like a ghost.
My hair was too long, my clothes too oversized, and the reflection that stared back at me felt like it belonged to someone else. It was a face without a name. Like most others in this hell, I was just a vacant shell, trying to survive in a city that couldn't care less. I didn't think much about it, but I couldn't help staring at my reflection for a moment. I was trying to see if there was something in my eyes that told me I wasn't just a nobody.
But the reflection didn't alter. Never did.
"Taehan, you up?" Violet's voice pulled me out of my thoughts. She had one eye half-open, looking at me like she was ready to drag me back into bed.
"Yeah," I said, unlocking the door and putting our apartment key in my pocket. "I'm headed out. Got stuff to do."
She sighed, rubbing her forehead. "All you ever do lately is 'head out'. Can't you just stay here for once? I don't start work till late today anyway. We could do somethin' together"
I glanced back at her and smiled. "It's not like we're getting any food sitting around, right?"
She didn't answer right away. She, instead, just pulled the blanket tighter around her and shut her eyes again.
I hated seeing her like this. I knew she had tried to get us out of here. Her life was filled with night shift after night shift. However, no matter how many times she pushed, it felt like the city was always pushing us back. What she didn't know was how far I was willing to go to get us out of this city, nor did she know how far I was going.
"Just... be careful. Okay?" she mumbled.
I didn't say anything.
I shrugged off my lack of breakfast, slipped out the door, and ventured into the streets. I dragged the hood of my coat over my head to ward off the worst of the breeze and rain. The rainfall descended like a cool hand onto the peaks of Virelia's exhausted roofs. The roads were already crowded with somebodies hustling to get by, just like every other morning in Virelia's southernmost zone, Frayzone. The lights above flickered in neon streaks of red and blue, reflecting off the soaked concrete, as if everything was besmeared in oil. Every sign and every billboard was piercing, radiant, and never-ending.
The loudspeaker once again emerged with a never-ending, hidden vitality. "Stay vigilant. The Union is watching. We Threadbearers are your justice; your hope."
The Union were a company of Threadbearers who were meant to defend us against the Dispair; they were akin to our military, but private and conducted exclusively by Threadbearers. Through their supposed distinguished triumphs beyond the city walls out in the Dispair, to their quashing of constant secret wars against terrorist groups like Jayu, they were seen as heroes to most. And due to their continuously advancing research into the Loom and technology, they were also regarded as pioneers and businessmen by some. Yet, to me, they felt more like captors than caretakers.
I weaved my way into the market square, a chaotic hub where vendors and merchandisers were already setting up their makeshift stalls and booths. The acrid fume of singed oil mixed with the putrid aroma of stale bread hung thick in the air. Glare from cracked E-Ads flickered around the market, providing it with a brief, yet refreshing hint of vitality, but by the time I could even concentrate my gaze on the ray of neon light, it had moved on, disappearing from my vision in the process. Somewhere above, the ancient, long-forgotten power lines bled an electric wail that always seemed to force my teeth to grind against each other.
I tuned out the usual calls and offers of stall owners as I made my way to a stall that was conveniently positioned right at the rear of the market district in Frayzone, directly in front of Virelia's southernmost wall.
A familiar old man with a patchy beard and grease-stained fingers presided over it. He glanced up as I approached, his weary eyes scrutinising my face as if this was the first time we had met.
"Well, if it isn't a Frayzone's rising Pup in the flesh. You looking for some work, Taehan?" he asked gruffly, already going through his typical ritual of scanning the area for any unwanted listeners. His practised fingers dancing in the air, tugging and plucking on invisible threads.
The ageing man was a Threadbearer, and his single bound Thread, Periphery, was what allowed him to succeed and thrive in Frayzone. As he pulled on the invisible threads, a minute, almost imperceptible shimmer rippled outward like the strands of a spider's web. He could see and hear anyone within the radius of his web. He could also feel what they were feeling, see what they were seeing and hear what they heard. An ability he picked up as the Hue of his Thread progressed was the power to be given a silent warning that would be sent back to him in the form of a vibration if any Threadbearer was present within his Thread's radius. In Frayzone, where one can be spliced for looking at the wrong person in the wrong way, this kind of supernatural awareness made him a terrifying Threadbearer. Every job in these parts, from splicing a rival gang member to rolling from a Stack, went through him first. And everyone in the Frayzone who lived the way I did would find themselves passing through his stall sooner or later.
In the corner of my vision, I caught the faint silhouettes of his crew. Shrouded by the curtains of the surrounding stalls that hung down from the canopy of the booths, obscuring the faces of Mr. Jackels' henchmen from outsiders. Their eyes were concealed by the thin curtain, yet I could still sense their vigilant gaze on me. Whispers and stories that originated from Frayzone painted Mr. Jackal as a T-Bear that could have you paid, fed, or spliced before the first drop of rain struck the concrete streets.
"Yeah, Jackal, need somethin' good this time. I can't survive on this amount of Lumes. Need jobs better than just rolling from random local gangs. I need more. Somethin' better."
Mr. Jackal's mouth turned into a smirk, as if he had been assuming I would ask for this sort of thing. He leaned slightly further over his stall counter and propped his aged elbows on the counter. I followed suit and bent over slightly. His henchmen edged closer on the practically non-existent chance that I would try to attack the T-Bear. Apparently, nearly non-existent wasn't good enough for them.
He diminished the volume of his voice until it was almost lost beneath the constant drone of the market.
"Luckily for you, Pup, I've got something perfect for you. Not your typical street-roll. This one's much bigger than you can even imagine." His fingers tugged towards the edge of his Threads, making absolutely sure no unwanted ears were eavesdropping. "You ever heard of a certain T-Bear called Skyes Vel Ranes?"
That name cracked the air between the two of us. Everyone, including me, knows him. He wasn't just a Union foot soldier or a local gang leader. He had the Union's ear, owned swathes of the wealthy central zones, and was perched at the summit of one of Virelia's richest Stacks.
Mr. Jackal clearly saw the unease I tried to hide on my face. "What's with the face? Thought you wanted something like this. To get you and that sister of yours out of Frayzone."
I racked my brain, running through every possible scenario that could lead to my death from taking this job. Hell, I could be spliced just for hearing about this. I wanted nothing more than to just walk away and pretend this never happened. To go back to my apartment and play trashy games with Violet. Then watch her fall asleep as she dreams of better places. But with the pay I could get from this job, I could make her dreams a reality.
Forcing me out of my thoughts, Mr. Jackal leaned away from me and eased back down onto his stall. "You don't need to be too nervous. Besides, clients after someone real specific and you, Taehan, just so happen to be the perfect fit. He needs someone your age, height, build, and so on. Fresh to this life, no debts, no real grudges. Somebody with little to no skin in the game."
Fresh to this life. Sure. Knowing Jackal, that was his polite way of insinuating he needs someone disposable. His eyes hooked onto me as if I was caught in his web. He wasn't trying to help me; he was trying to use me.
But I needed this. Badly. For the first time in my life, I saw a chance to truly live, not just survive. I have never been this close before, and I don't think I ever will again. Opportunities like this shouldn't ever come to people like me.
I met his gaze, "And if I were to say no?"
"Then you crawl back to your life as one of the herd, just like everyone else," he sneered, a shrug hardly visible in the movement of his shoulders. "Another zero in a city full of nobodies. Another goddamn lifeless puppet in the Union's little game."
I chuckled internally. This right here was his real power. His Thread was nothing but an aid. He didn't need to push people into his clutches. He just gave them no other choice but to crawl inside.
I knew he was playing me, but I didn't care. Call it naivety or even insanity, but this was a risk I deemed worth taking.
I took a deep breath and looked Jackal straight in his one real eye, the significance of my judgment sinking in. "I'll do it."
The smile that oozed across his face was slow and cold. This was not the smile of a business associate, but the smile of a predator seeing its prey surrender to it. It was the smile of somebody who knew they had won.