At the door of her apartment building, Verity gave a wistful sigh. It had been nice staying with Chance. Not just the nicer apartment, but sleeping next to him, feeling his arms around her. That was what she wanted, not this run down, water-logged shitty apartment she could barely afford.

Imogen smiled, bags in her hands. “Glad to be home?”

Verity returned her friend’s smile and made her way up the rigged-up stairs and into the building.

The smell hit her first. Cigarette smoke from Wicksham’s apartment wafted from under the door, mold and other algae grew in the perpetually soaked apartments on what was supposed to be the first floor, but no one could live down there anymore. Even Wicksham’s damp carpets didn’t compare to the slimy muck that covered everything on the first floor.

The two women climbed the stairs, bags of food and fabric heavy in their hands, but when they reached the door, Verity had no need to dig in her bag for her keys, the door was already open.

“Here,” she whispered to Imogen, handing her bags back and pulling her keys out so she could wrap her fist around them, the key stabbing out from between her knuckles, ready to do battle. Adrenaline rushed her system. Had Garvan come for her anyway? She couldn’t fight off cyborgs, even if she put up a hell of a fight. She’d done it once because he was drunk and alone.

Fear reached up and wrapped its fingers around her throat, stopping her from entering the small apartment she called home.

“Who do you think it is?” Imogen whispered, louder than she realized, and Verity heard movement in the apartment. Before she could think about it, she kicked in the door, hitting someone in the face with it, and strode in.

The moment she entered the space the scent of cigarettes, copper, and salt filled her sense, and she felt weightless for a moment before her stomach bottomed out.

The smell assaulted her first. On the floor in front of her was Wicksham, his blood spreading across the wooden floor like a stain.

“No!” She rushed toward his body, but someone grabbed her by the hair.

“Two for the price of one,” a familiar voice said, wrenching her around so she could see Elder Grayson haul Imogen into the apartment by the arm. “I never thought we’d see you again, blasphemer.”

Elder Addington was older than his appearance made him seem. He was a farmer, tanned like leather, and hard as a rock. On the compound, people worked hard and prayed harder. He was a walking testament to that, his body solid, his soul immoveable.

“Fuck you,” Verity spat.

Elder Addington released his hold on her hair and slapped his hand across her face so hard it sent her reeling back and falling to the ground. Her hand landed in a pool of Wicksham’s thick sticky blood.

Imogen screamed, and Verity’s mind spun. The sound gargled in her ears, mixing together with the ringing from Addington’s strike. Her screams didn’t stop, and something crashed behind them. Grayson yelled, as Imogen bit him, and Verity pushed herself up, her head clearing.

Imogen kicked and screamed, as the two men took her arms and started to haul her out of the apartment.

“You are not taking her!” Verity shot to her feet, vertigo hitting her like a steam engine. She barreled forward, letting inertia dive her body into Addington for all she was worth. She lashed out, scratching at his face and kicking until he had to drop his hold on Imogen to defend himself.

“Leave us to our business, devil girl!” he screamed.

Verity smacked the heel of her hand against the center of his chest, but the strong older man didn’t move, just looked at her and laughed. He raised his hand to strike her again, but Verity was prepared. She ducked and kneed him in the groin before he could hit her, and then as he bent over, she slammed her knee up again into his face, just like she’d seen Chance do. Blood spurt from his broken nose.

Grayson tightened his hold on Imogen and pulled out a knife. “We killed him to get to Imogen. Don’t think we won’t do the same thing to you.”

Verity was ill at the sight of Wicksham’s dried blood on the blade.

“Let. Her. Go.” Chance stood in the doorway of her apartment, so tall he took up the entire opening. His cybernetic arm glowed a deep pulsing blue, and the cuts and darkening bruises on his face added to his overall menacing appearance.

Verity’s heart swelled with relief. Help was here, but not just that. It was Chance. He had come to find her, not even knowing what was going on. All worries about his past, or what he’d done vanished, as she soaked in his appearance.

His eyes seemed to darken to a black impenetrable void of emotion, and his jaw twitched as he stared down Grayson.

From the floor, Addington moaned. “A cyborg? Imogen, you must come home. What kind of life has Verity seduced you into? You are meant to be the mother of a generation. Your beauty and piousness passed down to your offspring who will be raised by the worthiest women in the compound. It’s an honor. Why would you choose to be here? This city reeks of sin.”

“That’s why we call it Cyn City, motherfucker.” Chance came inside and grabbed Addington by his shirt, lifting him into the air, and pressing him against the wall. He leaned in close. “You’re going to leave, or you’re going to fucking die. Your choice.”

A shiver went through Verity at the threat she knew he could carry out, but she stood ready to fight next to him for her freedom, and for Imogen’s.

Grayson shoved Imogen into the apartment and rushed Chance, shoving him away from Addington, so the older man could regain his footing.

Verity ran toward Addington, but she couldn’t even get a hit or kick in before he backhanded her and sent her flying to the ground.

Addington drew Chance’s attention, taking a solid punch in the face from a metal arm that tossed him backwards, but not before Grayson stabbed through Chance’s plesh and directly into the connection between his cybernetic arm and his body.

Like a slow-motion flash frame, Verity watched as Grayson dragged the knife down Chance’s back, slicing through muscle and metal until Chance fell to his knees, crying out in pain.

Her brain stalled, and she launched forward onto Grayson’s back, wrapping her arms around his neck and using all of her weight to choke the man as much as she could.

He gasped and reached for her but couldn’t get a good hold.

When Addington recovered enough to come forward, he misjudged Chance’s ability to bear pain. He walked too closely. Chance grabbed his leg with his cybernetic arm and dragged him to the ground, so he slammed his head on the floor. Gears whirled and wheezed, and Verity was sure she heard something snap.

“He’s unconscious,” Chance said, turning toward Grayson.

The elder stopped fighting, and Verity fell to her feet and shoved him forward.

Chance dragged himself to his feet, leaning his weight on his flesh shoulder against the wall. “We can keep doing this. But at least one of us won’t make it out of here alive, and I guarantee you I won’t be the first to fall. Or you can leave. Let them go. They don’t want to be with you, why do you even want them?”

“These girls belong to us. We raised them, fed them, and educated them, all so they would continue our lines.”

Chance shook his head and opened his mouth to speak, but before he could Verity shoved Grayson again. “What’s wrong with you? We aren’t property. We aren’t breeding stock. Just leave us alone.”

“You’ve always been more trouble than you were worth. We only want Imogen.”

Imogen appeared next to Verity. “You can’t have me. I’ll kill myself first.” She held out Grayson’s knife that she’d swiped from the ground. “You took Hiram, and you killed our baby. I will never go back.”

Addington made a mewling sound on the ground, and Chance stepped on his leg.

“Enough pressure at the right angle, and he could break the femur,” Verity pointed out calmly. “If you want to leave in one piece, you should go. Because you aren’t taking us with you.”

Chance shifted his weight, and Addington cried out, his eyes flickering open.

“Fine. We’ll leave, but I can’t promise no one will come back for you. Your mother is heartbroken.” Grayson glared at Imogen before sidestepping around Chance to help Addington up.

“My mother betrayed me when she should have loved me and my baby. She’s as good as dead to me, all of you are.” Imogen handed the blade to Verity who held it out at Grayson before using it to wave him toward the door.

The two Elders stumbled out.

Once Verity locked all of the bolts and chains, Chance sank to the floor.

“How bad is it?” Verity asked, falling to her knees next to him. His face was pale and moist and she didn’t like the low hum coming from his arm.

“Oh, I’ve had worse, sugar. Don’t you worry. Just do me a favor. Comm Enver. Tell him I need a cynker. One who can come here.”

Verity searched his pockets quickly for his comm and pulled up Enver’s contact.

It felt like hours before they arrived. Imogen mixed together a poultice, and Verity tended to the flesh wounds she could see without moving Chance’s body too much. He flickered in and out of consciousness, his skin growing paler by the moment. It was hard to tell which injuries were fresh and which were from the fight, so she treated them all as best she could.

The knock on the door came just in time. Chance’s breathing had become labored and Imogen’s pacing grated on Verity’s last nerve. She couldn’t take care of them both.

She let Enver and a small stocky man with round glasses and a tool bag enter.

“Get him on the bed.” The small man directed, and Enver hauled Chance’s body easily. The wall and floor were soaked in blood. His injuries were much worse than Verity had thought.

Enver and the cynker got to work inspecting Chance’s wound. They murmured to one another and exchanged sighs and unsure glances toward Verity and Imogen.

The smell of the room overwhelmed her. Blood, oil, and an unnatural synthetic burning smell filled the space, but she didn’t dare open the window. Fear had her frozen in place, petrified like the forests of an earth long past. What if something evil floated in on the air? A disease or germ that would mean the difference between Chance surviving or not? Superstitions of her upbringing resurfaced, and she found herself raising her hands in prayer.

Enver finally pulled off his blue gloves and approached her. “He’s bad off. The knife went in deep, severing the neuro-bond.”

“How is that possible? He used the arm to fight Addington after he was stabbed.”

Enver’s narrow eyes rounded. “I don’t know. He shouldn’t have been able to. There must have been a slim electrical current still running, but it must have hurt like a son-of-a-bitch.”

Verity looked down. He had fought for her despite what she’d said. He had done the impossible, again, and all she’d done was hurt him.

“That’s not the problem though. The cynker can fix the tech. The problem is his lung and the intertransversarii muscles and trapezius muscle. They got fucked right up from that blade. He’s going to need a new lung and we can’t use the one from the dead guy, it’s been cold too long, so it’ll have to be cybernetic, and we’ll have to replace most of his shoulder and back if we want him to live. You two were close, do you know what he’d want us to do?”

“You mean you have to make more of him into a cyborg?” Imogen asked but Enver ignored her, keeping his focus on Verity.

“Do it.”

“He hates what he is, you know,” he said.

“But I love him. All of him. Just do it. he can blame me if it’s not what he wants.”

Enver lifted his chin in agreement and returned to work.

The cynker used every tool Verity had ever imagined and even had a sterile synth cloth to lay Chance on, so they could perform the surgery. The little man took particular glee from ‘repurposing’ parts of Wicksham to help build Chance’s body back up. Verity couldn’t bear to watch as he stripped veins from Wicksham’s legs and dug into his chest for thicker muscles. Eventually, Verity and Imogen had to go sit outside and wait, the smell of blood and dissection of her former landlord more than she could handle.

The two women sat in silence as Enver and the cynker ran out to retrieve suns knew what materials. The titanium and plesh lung sealed in a bag full of viscus fluid that made Verity break out into a cold sweat. His injuries were serious. Hearing the words and seeing the cybernetic organ were two different things.

As the sun started to fade behind the Deluge and the streets filled with people escaping their sorrows in the night, Enver came outside. His clothes were soaked in blood, and his face set in a hard line that didn’t suit him. His high cheekbones and quirky smile were meant to twinkle, not brood.

“We’re done. We can move him to his place to recover, and then we’ll just have to wait and see.”

“So, he’s alive?” Verity let out her breath, and the tears she’d been holding back spilled down her cheeks, streaking her face with salt.

“Alive enough,” Enver smirked, and Verity’s heart soared.

“Thank you,” she stood and wrapped her arms around the tall cyborg. “Thank you so much.”

“He’s done more for me.” Enver turned to walk away but stopped, tilting his head at Verity. “I meant to tell you, Markus says hello.”

“Markus?”

“Yeah, the cyborg from the ring last night? He wanted me to tell you hello and apologize. Garvan threatened his little girl if he didn’t fight.”

Verity sucked in a breath. “That’s horrible.” She froze. “Wait. He was dead.”

Enver smiled again, lighting up his face, as the street lamps flickered above them. “Not completely. I have a few nanite tricks up my sleeve.”

“You mean Chance didn’t…”

“It was his idea, his credits bought the nanites, too. After this surgery, he’s gonna have an empty account, but he wasn’t about to let someone get hurt. Markus or you.”

“Can I see him?” Verity’s voice shook, and as soon as Enver began his nod, she took off into the building.

Her apartment was a war zone. Blood everywhere. Food and fabric scattered across the floor. Most of it trampled. Chance moaned when she sat on the synth cloth covering her mattress. His eyes fluttered open for a moment before he fell unconscious again.

“He’s heavily sedated, so the nanites can make the necessary connections between his nervous system and the new bionics,” the cynker said.

Verity took his hand and let her tears fall freely. “I love you. I’m so sorry.”