Alex fucking hates winter.

  It’s cold, so cold she needs multiple layers for her thin frame. It gets to the point where she looks like an egg, a bit of an exaggeration, but it’s truer than it isn’t. Still she refuses not to go on her walks just because of some snow; winter will not stop her crusade! The crusade in question is progressing quite nicely.

  She can cycle through the stairs in her home fifteen times before she passes out! Yeah, she might have gotten a bit overzealous, but that’s what grandparents are for. To catch you when you fall, literally.

  They’re more than happy to; they’re just as much a witness to her progress as she is. It’s got her household in a frenzy of excitement; she’s never had so much protein in her life! The downside, however, is that her father's talking about getting her checked with a maestro to see what in the fuck is going on.

  He’s happy for her, but there’s a limit to what’s believable. She’s been fighting her whole life for this; why does her fortune seem to have flipped on its head? She’s not against telling him… It’s just something she’d prefer keeping to herself.

  How would he react to a fucking game/virus changing his daughter's very biology?

  Probably not well, she imagines.

  Well, that’s not a now problem, so she might as well just focus on her walk. The streets are emptier with the coming of snow, but there are still plenty of bodies to conglomerate into a mass of meat and metal. Luckily that means she doesn’t get pushed around as much; that’s the one good thing about this season. Only reason she tolerates it, really.

  She stops by a crosswalk, waiting as traffic flows through. Someone’s already hit the button, so she doesn’t have to bother. It’s a bit of a pain in the ass that public infrastructure doesn’t let her interface with it, but she makes do.

  The light flashes, and the waiting group moves forward to cross the street. Sleek cars and sleeker bikers are witnesses to their passing. Alex finds it interesting how heavily the government enforces traffic laws when they basically do nothing else. It means she doesn’t have to worry much about getting run over by a lunatic, so she’s not complaining. It’s just funny, is all.

  She reaches the other side of the street and turns to her right, heading wherever her feet take her. She likes exploring, and the city is a maze ripe for mice like her. Even now she’s only got a limited understanding of her locality. Mostly because of her condition, which means that since she’s getting better, she can go farther!

  Her eyes spot a store that intrigues her. It’s…well, it’s a strip club, but it doesn’t look related to the gang. At least not at first glance. Using cool blue hues alongside cream white as their aesthetic. The bouncer isn’t wearing any biker gear, just a plain white shirt and green jacket alongside black cargo pants. Alex, being the curious cat that she is, decides to approach the place.

  Alex hums as she makes her way over; there isn’t a line considering it’s the middle of the fucking day, so that’s convenient. She’s kinda surprised they’re open; they must be popular.

  “Hello, friendo!” she waves to the bouncer. “Is this establishment currently in need of patrons?”

  The bouncer raises a brow at her. “Blue Swan’s always in need of patrons; it’s literally a fucking business.”

  “True, true, so how much?”

  “Hundred creds.”

  Alex nods and sends the requisite compensation over to the man. He grunts and takes a moment, likely sending it to the business account, before he ushers her in with an arm. She nods happily at him and heads on inside into a lobby where patrons are sitting on couches alongside who she assumes are strippers.

  It’s strange to segment their club, but it’s their business.

  Alex heads over to the doors leading to the entertainment, immediately inundated with soft jazz as she opens them. Interesting choice but not grating on the ears. There are only three poles in the whole club, all occupied by women performing impressive feats of athleticism. One of them’s topless, but the rest are dressed in blue lace underwear.

  She doesn’t see any male strippers walking between the tables chatting up the customers, so she can see there’s a preference. Shame. Well, might as well enjoy a few drinks and bounce.

  She walks over to the bar, as sedated as the atmosphere of the place. It smells floral, but she can’t pinpoint which flower specifically. She’s grown a few flowers until she realized it was too much of a pain in the ass.

  Alex plops herself on a bar stool and waits for the bartender to notice her. It doesn’t take long; a woman in a blue bunny suit saunters over and leans on the counter in front of her.

  She looks hard into Alex’s red eyes. “Haven’t seen you around before; don’t tend to attract gangers. New to the Swan or just a night owl?”

  “Visiting,” Alex shrugs. “Saw the place has no gang affiliations and got interested.”

  “Fair enough, you been to a club before?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Alright, so you know house rules. Minors don’t get a dance with the girls. Now is there anything I can get you small stuff?”

  “Just a few beers alongside a mango martini if you have one.”

  “Coming right up,” she smiles and grabs the beers, handing them to Alex before she starts mixing together a drink, doing it with an unnecessary amount of flourish.

  Eventually she pours it into a glass and presents it to Alex.

  “There you are, kid; that’ll be seventy creds.”

  -

  “Anytime now, just press on the accelerator.” Sayyid says, slightly amused.

  Her grandparents are in the backseat, sharing in his traitorous mirth. For whatever reason, Baba’s decided that Alex should learn how to drive. Why? Who knows? She doesn’t pretend to understand the logic of the big scary Demon. She does, however, think it’s unnecessary and stupid.

  “This is a waste of time,” Alex grumbles. “I don’t need to go anywhere that needs wheels.”

  Sayyid nods as though the challenge were expected. “You don’t need wheels to go anywhere for now, you mean. Unless you’re a seer who can see the future, in that case I’ll gladly stop and worship your magicness.”

  “Fuck off, I’m being serious. Why are you teaching me this?”

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  “Oh, just let him have his moment. The poor boy’s been so excited to teach you how to drive. Practically giddy even,” Gidou Rakim says.

  “That’s a horrifying image.”

  “You weren’t the one who saw it,” Tita Jania chuckles. “Haven’t seen him get so energetic since he was a toddler. It was fucking hysterical, a balm to this decrepit woman’s soul.”

  “Mama, please, you’re ruining my image,” Sayyid groans.

  “You ruin that yourself plenty, oh son o’mine.”

  “Who taught you that? Your English isn’t that good.”

  “I’m hurt by your lack of confidence! I can speak English perfectly well just on my own,” she says in her mother tongue.

  Everyone in the car turns to give her a look that effectively communicates that she’s spouting bullshit.

  “Fuck you all.”

  “Hey now, if you're that unsatisfied with me, you should just say so,” Gidou Rakim smirks.

  “Gidou! Gross!”

  “You’re fourteen, grow up.”

  “I’ll always be too young to hear you make jokes like that!”

  Sayyid chuckles at Alex’s disgust. “You’re lucky; they’ve mellowed out since I was a kid. You know how many times I’ve caught them fucking on the couch? Too many.”

  Alex looks at her father with genuine sympathy in her eyes, like staring at a beaten puppy. Sayyid bursts into laughter at the concern in her eyes, which only makes her more worried. How did her father turn out normal with them as his parents?!

  Well, he’s a Demon of The Road so maybe he didn’t, but still.

  “Listen,” Sayyid says. “You’re gonna have to learn eventually; having access to a car opens up the city dramatically. Especially with your condition. Now come on, press on the accelerator, and let’s go.”

  Alex purses her lips and looks down at her knees. “What if I get into an accident?”

  “This car’s a tank; it can take it. Whoever you hit will just have to deal.”

  “But won’t it fuck with your insurance?”

  “Habibty, if they’re stupid enough to try and get money from me, then they deserve to get run over.”

  “There’s plenty of stupid in this city. I say we’re doing the world a favor if they got a taste of natural selection,” Gidou Rakim says.

  “Careful now,” Tita Rania rolls her eyes. “You’re letting your bloodthirsty side show.”

  Gidou scratches the back of his head and gives an awkward smile. “Sorry ‘bout that. Idiots just piss me off.”

  “Can we focus? C’mon, start driving,” Sayyid says.

  “Okay…”

  Alex takes a deep breath, giving the accelerator a light push with her foot. The ensuing motion is significantly faster than she expected, causing her to panic and remove her foot. The car's battery stops feeding the wheels, and it stops just half a meter away from a parked SUV.

  Sayyid barks a long laugh. “Oh, that was priceless. You actually almost hit them? We’ll have to work hard on your driving instincts. Now put it in reverse to make some space so you can turn out. I want you to do a few laps around the lot before we take the roads.”

  “We’re going on the roads?!” Alex exclaims.

  “Yup.”

  “Isn’t that way too fast, Baba? This shit is horrifying.”

  “You’ll be fine,” he waves off. “Now get to it; I don’t have enough days off to waste time talking.”

  Alex grumbles, pushing down the brakes and turning the gearshift knob to reverse. A camera shows up on the screen between her and Sayyid, showing what’s behind her as she carefully pushes on the accelerator with much less force.

  This time they move like a snail, and Alex is more than satisfied with that as she makes enough space where she thinks she can leave. She shifts back to drive and turns the wheel to the right. She makes it a few seconds before it turns out her calculations were wrong and she almost hits a sedan.

  “This is bullshit,” Alex says shakily.

  “At least you stopped. Now back up and try again.”

  -

  There are moments in life where everything important is on the line; pride, reputation, self respect.

  This is one of those moments.

  Alex fiddles with the controller with extreme dexterity as she does her best to string together a comeback combo. Launching Ronan’s character into the air and keeping him there with a sequence of high kicks from her sleek and agile military man. She can taste victory, his health bar is so low while hers is still half full.

  Then, it happens.

  Ronan starts making his character dance like this were a funcking disco; beating the shit out of her poor main as he’s stunlocked into a combo Alex knows all too well. She frantically tries to counter but to no avail, her timing isn’t good enough.

  Then, as it so often does, Alex tastes bitter defeat as her character gets executed. She lets out a loud groan of frustration and exits her gamer lean, flopping back on the couch and staring at the roof.

  “That’s another one. You’re getting better though, almost got to round three.” Ronan says.

  “Har har, fuck you and Yimila. That bitch is so unfair!”

  “She’s the character with the highest skill ceiling,” Ronan says with a raised brow. “I’ve practiced plenty to get this good. Maybe you should consider dedicating some time to it.”

  “I’d rather draw, our locality has shit connection for games.”

  “You didn’t hear? They’ll start putting dedicated servers here so we don’t have to do peer to peer.”

  “Really?!? Fucking finally. I’m still coming over to play though, I wanna see your face when I eventually kick your ass.”

  “Unlike you, I’m not hardcore enough to care.”

  Alex gives him a flat look. “You’re literally going to the annual competition in sector Reig on new year's eve. The fuck you mean you’re not ‘hardcore enough’”

  “Skill doesn’t necessarily precipitate giving a shit. I’m just doing it for the money.”

  “I’m not doing well enough in english to understand what the fuck precipitate means.”

  “Hmm…it’s like something being a consequence of something else? Like in this case a different way to word it is ‘skill doesn’t necessarily lead to giving a shit’.”

  “Why didn’t you just say that?” Alex scrunches her brow.

  “Because I like being a smartass,” Ronan shrugs. “Besides, if you actually took some time to read fine literature instead of whatever that Litrpg shit is then maybe you’d have a vocabulary as grandiose as mine.”

  “Fuck you, the genre has plenty of verboseness. You just never gave it a chance.”

  “I did, it’s immersion breaking as fuck to have some kind of game interface giving the character skills and shit. That’s not how life works.”

  Alex raises a brow at the boy. “It’s entertaining, and thought provoking if the author’s good enough. Just like any other book. Isn’t that all you really need in a story for it to be considered literature?”

  “Agree to disagree,” Ronan shrugs. “Anyway, how have you been? I heard from Omar about what happened.”

  “Real smooth segue friendo,” Alex says as dry as she possibly can.

  “Thanks. But seriously what I heard was concerning.”

  Alex purses her lips and looks into the boy's eyes, and for a moment she considers being vulnerable. That moments dies about as fast as it came to life.

  “It’s nothing so extreme just another day in this fucked city. Omar needs to toughen up a little, he cared way too much for a cyber-psycho.”

  Ronan sighs and shakes his head. “I’m not like the other two Alex. I can tell you’re bullshiting. Why not just talk for a bit? You know, hash it out. Vent and shit.”

  “You really want me to be honest?” Alex says as she crosses her arms and looks down at the floor.

  “Yeah, I won’t judge. I swear.”

  “Okay,” Alex whispers. “I…don’t understand why he did it.”

  “Omar said he lost his family.”

  “Yeah, sure. That’s sad and shit, but to kill yourself? Why? Isn’t he afraid of what comes next? Or if anything comes next? Why not just…keep living? I don’t know. It just doesn’t make sense to me.”

  “Well, I’m not an expert but you want me to give my chips?” Ronan says.

  “Sure,”

  Ronan nods and looks at the television screen where it shows his victory. “Think of life like this game for a moment. It’s constant fighting, round after round after round. Some have to fight harder than others, and we each need our reasons to keep going. I just think he lost his, that it was too painful to get back up from the beating.”

  “But…why not get back up? Pain isn’t permanent.”

  “I don’t know,” Ronan shrugs. “All I know is that some people decide that they can’t suffer more of life, and I find that sad.”

  Alex returns her gaze to the ground, “same.”