Written In Response To A Visual Prompt Which I'll Add Later If I Can Figure Out How. It's A Picture Of

Written in response to a visual prompt which I'll add later if I can figure out how. It's a picture of a sunset or sunrise in mostly golden and crimson tones.

Do you like creating Bebop fanfiction? Do you like writing prompts and fic fests and all that jazz? Leave a comment or message me privately and I'll link you to a delightful new Bebop discord server dedicated to fanfic and fan art. It's a harbor for all ships, so all are welcome 💕

Also this is just a stream of consciousness drabble with no editing and no chance to reread before posting so apologies in advance for any errors or confusing bits.

***

Red Sky At Night…

Red Sky In Morning…

Dawn had always brought a certain splendor along with its arrival. From a young age, waking to greet the day in the gray predawn hours, Jet had found himself fascinated by the spill of colors across the sky as the sun rose on the horizon.

His earliest memories were of sharing that quiet moment with his grandmother. His father would have been gone to work already, and his grandfather too for that matter. His mother would wake shortly after the sun came up, operating on a schedule that parallelled the life-giving star, for she also retired for the evening shortly after sunset. Before breakfast, while the city was still slumbering or just beginning to stir, these were the most peaceful hours of his day.

Whether it was the shuffle of his grandmother's slippers on the hardwood floor or the natural rhythm of his own sleep cycle, Jet invariably found himself awake in time to find his jacket and a pair of shoes - which he'd slip into as he exited the kitchen and stepped onto the porch - so he could join his grandmother on the porch swing.

Their house was small and creaky so Jet would always try to be as silent as possible in creeping around. His mother was often sickly and he hated to disturb her rest. She’d do her utmost to feign ample health and energy, whipping up a hearty breakfast for the household - as his father and grandfather would return for a meal before setting back out to sea - but Jet knew the toll it took on her to manage even the simplest of household chores. He and his grandmother did what they could to help out, which sometimes just meant staying out of the way entirely.

Jet learned a lot from both of his folks and from his grandparents too. It was a blessing to have his dad’s parents living with them. Jet considered himself quite fortunate to have the chance to learn stories of his grandfather as a young boy on the seas of Earth itself. To hear of his grandmother’s own infatuation with the ebb and flow of the tides, and the way the sun broke free of the waves… her own girlhood had been spent on the shores of Biarritz, and it had been there that she learned to surf. After the exodus from the planet when his grandparents were both still quite young, they’d met here on one of the beaches of Ganymede. His grandfather, still so in love with the water, pursued a career in the fishing industry and built a home facing the sunrise so his grandmother could watch the skies and watch the seas and be happy.

It was this very house that Jet lived in with his folks and grandparents. A place imbued with love and with appreciation for the currents that controlled the waters beyond the shore. It was there that Jet nearly drowned when he was ten. An able bodied swimmer, he hadn’t yet understood how dangerous rip currents could be. Fortunately, his father had been home from work and dove in without hesitation to reach him. Had helped keep his head above water as they rode the current to a point where it wasn’t as strong and they could break away and return to shore.

His grandmother had held his mother, shaking with tears, and solemnly nodded her head at Jet.

“The waters have many lessons to teach. Not all are lucky enough to survive the trials of the sea. Come, we will make some tea to warm your bones and we will talk of what happened and how you made it back. It is important to remember in case you are ever in such a position again.” She said calmly, leading his mother back inside while Jet and his father, both dripping salt water from their clothes and hair, followed.

It was not an experience that Jet enjoyed. In fact, it probably had something to do with his dislike of being out on the open water. But his grandmother’s calm and the respect with which she eyed the choppy waves made an impression on him.

So too did the worst night of his young life, though it started out so beautifully.

Sitting on the porch swing with his grandmother, swinging slowly back and forth, the horizon began to smudge a ruddy shade that made his grandmother put her feet firmly on the porch to halt the motion of the swing. Deep plums blossomed into murky maroons and then a slew of varying burgundy shades. Jet watched as the sun finally began to touch upon the sky directly, even the sliver too bright to stare at, but when he turned to face his grandmother she was still looking straight at the sunrise.

“Be strong today, my darling.” She said to him then.

“What’s the matter?” Jet had asked. The sunrise seemed just as lovely as the scarlet sunsets they’d witnessed on particularly good evenings.

She closed her eyes briefly before turning to smile at him tremulously. “Oh, it is probably nothing, my darling. Just a silly old woman remembering an adage from Earth. Red skies at night, sailor’s delight! Red skies in morning, sailors take warning.” She recited from memory then, reaching out to cup his cheeks with her wrinkled palms, patting his face absently. “These old bones sometimes ache when a storm approaches. It will be fine, don’t worry yourself.”

But the day did not stay nice for long. Dark clouds gathered and the sea swept itself up into a fury and by the time breakfast rolled around there were two empty chairs and his mother and grandmother ate their meals with worry etched into their features. Jet did not go to school that day, opting to stay home and help put up the protective blinds that kept the glass safe when the gales were especially violent. And before lunch the storm had landed fully and he huddled with his mother and grandmother in the living room in the heart of the house, listening to the pounding of the waves and the deluge of the rain and the eerie wailing of the wind.

Later, much later, his father returned bedraggled and exhausted and with his head bowed in grief. His grandfather would never come home again. His grandmother remained strong, but from then on there were always tears in her eyes whenever she looked out to the sea. Jet’s mother began rising earlier in the day and sharing a cup of tea with his grandmother as they sat in silence on the porch. Jet himself, feeling bitter about the ocean and the ruthlessness with which it had taken his grandfather, began leaving the women to their grief and their vigil - breakfast was now only begun when Jet’s father could be seen marching up the shore from the docks. He started to duck out in the predawn hours to meet up with classmates and friends, unable to tolerate the morning routine that the household now maintained. It was the beginning of a new chapter in his life… family had dominated the first decade or so of his existence, and it had been the happiest time of his life… but Jet had to answer the calling of his own soul.

Forget the sea. It was too cold, too wet, too vast and empty. It was a place some of his darkest fears were borne.

He set his eyes instead on the sky again. The night so full of stars sparkling. Space, cold and vast and empty to be sure, was also somehow full of promise. He felt a peculiar giddiness whenever he let himself stare up at the constellations, as though anything could happen out there. But it remained merely a feeling for many many years. Something to occupy his time when he wasn’t focusing on schoolwork, or undergoing the trials of the police academy, or filling his evenings with dates with smiling girls.

It would be a long time before he finally set out for the stars. And though his parents and grandmother had all passed away by that point… his mind brought back the adage his grandmother had spoken when he at last launched the refitted fishing trawler on its maiden voyage to the stars. It had taken all day to get clearance after the inspection and fueling up. The sun was going down in a brilliant blaze of carmine.

He had never wanted to be a sailor out at sea. Had never even considered being a sailor in the stars. But fate led his feet on the path he was meant to travel, and when he left Ganymede it was on a night where the skies granted good favor to his future.

Day 4 prompt Beach

***

Truck stops intimidated her. Most of the people using those waystations were men, and even the occasional woman that she’d seen looked far too imposing to approach. She wasn’t built for combat. She was frail. At least, in comparison to nearly everyone she’d seen heading in or taking off from the truck stop she’d spied on from the treeline quite a distance away. No, there was too great a chance of being overpowered if she tried to use those showers.

Motels and hotels were out of the question as well. She’d tried to sneak into a room or two, but the doors all automatically locked whenever a person entered or exited, and none of the windows opened from the outside if they opened at all.

There had been a mall in the town she’d just left… it seemed too busy for anyone to notice one young woman perusing the wares. But something about her must have screamed out to the authorities because she was being chased away before she could even pick up the clothing she intended to steal to replace the rags she had been wearing since her second escape from the hospital.

So now here she was, lurking outside the changing rooms of the beach that she had reached last night. Fortunately it was hot these days and warm in the evenings - she’d been able to sleep curled up in the branches of a tree across the street from the shoreline.

She had tried to sleep out in the open a few times. It felt better being able to stretch out, even if you were just lying on the concrete or hard packed earth. But every time she’d been disturbed by one thing or another. Raccoons or rats skulking around, creeps leering at her, the cops responding to some welfare call because her presence freaked someone out. No, all things considered she’d take the discomfort of being basically invisible in the protective cradle of tree limbs and thick leafy branches.

And now she was about to see what she could rustle up for garments. This changing room had no lockers - though she felt reasonably confident she would have been able to force her way into them if they did - so she was trying to be stealthy and snag a few items while folks were changing into swimsuits or wetsuits depending on their goal here at the beach.

While she was at it, she helped herself to whatever snacks she came across in the multitude of oversized bags that rested on the floor of nearly every changing stall in the place. It was a dangerous task, all of it, so she endeavored to be quick and silent. The last thing she needed was some grumpy old broad to look down and see an arm snaked under the stall door with a hand attached that was rooting around in her beach bag.

Scoring a sundress that was only a few sizes too large - perfectly acceptable as a swim cover - and a pair of tennis shoes that pinched slightly, Faye made her way to the exit with a granola bar in one hand and a peach colored purse hanging from her other arm. The purse acquisition meant she had to move FAST to avoid being caught - but it had been impossible to resist. For one thing, it enabled her to stuff juice boxes and a container of cubed fruit into the confines, and for another it might have a wallet inside which would mean money.

She didn’t particularly like robbing people, but she tried to look at it from a logical point of view. The cars she’d watch pull into the parking lot for this stretch of beach were all nice looking vehicles. The dress she had slipped into felt like it was made of decent material. And really if these people could afford to take a day at the beach during the week - did people still adhere to a workweek now that they’d conquered the stars? - well, suffice it to say no one was hurting here the way Faye herself was.

Besides, she didn’t intend to make a habit of it. She just needed a hand out and she was far too proud to ask for one. Anyway she didn’t know how to go about it aside from posting up on a street corner with a sign begging for change. Probably there were ways people like her could find assistance, but she was still trying to lay low. She was on the run, after all.

She started jogging away from the changing room, staying in the damp sand near where the waves crashed upon it, acting as natural as she could manage. Then, when she was too winded from her slow-speed flight from the scene of the crime, she hastened to take off the shoes and dangled them from her right hand, using the shoes as a cover for the purse hanging at her side.

Now she waded a bit further out, letting her toes dip into the surf as she walked at a more sedate pace and gazed out over the sea. Or… ocean? Lake? There was no visible shore in view opposite her location so the answer wasn’t immediately forthcoming. Much like the end to her own dilemma… how could she possibly pay down that debt? Or fight it? Whitney was a lawyer, yet he’d been killed while helping her flee the insurance company. In a world where lawyers could be offed as negligently as anyone else, who was there to stand up and fight for the underdog?

She had no connections. No material goods except the clothes on her back and shoes in her hand. Nowhere to go…

Tears began to stream unbidden down her face. She kept her eyes resolutely on the beautiful blues of the water as she moved along the beach. Sounds drifted to her - gulls crying, children shrieking, someone had turned on a stereo behind her and was blaring surf rock. It all passed over her as gently as the breeze that was coaxing the waves to shore. Time stretched on endlessly… the water stretched on endlessly… her money woes stretched on endlessly…

And yet… the sun was shining. The water surging against the shore was making soothing sounds. She was no one, just a solitary woman out for a stroll along the beach with just her thoughts for company. Nothing more than that. Not a renegade. Not a thief. Not a victim of circumstance.

Just another beachgoer making the most of another beautiful day here on…

Where the fuck even was she?!

Just a drabble with the theme of Summer set during Ganymede Elegy

***

He could claim it was simply too beautiful outside to busy himself with repairs in the hangar. It was the plain truth, after all. Deciding to tune up the Swordfish II on the deck had nothing at all to do with the fact that Faye has chosen to lounge out there in a swimsuit that barely covered anything.

And, he reasoned, he could keep an eye on Ed this way. Make sure the kid didn't fall off the ship into the water. Spike wasn't sure if she could swim and anyway it was especially deep here in the harbor where ships docked.

Faye was obviously preoccupied with getting a tan and wasn't paying any attention to Ed, so naturally Spike had to.

Of course, Ed was perfectly happy doing her own thing which was apparently fishing. Until she got distracted by Faye and went over to rub her face on Faye's leg, making Spike guffaw behind the cover of his zipcraft.

He hadn't thought anyone heard, but when he nearly fumbled a tool over the edge when Donnelly called, Spike could clearly hear Faye snickering to herself.

It was a hot day with the sun beating down. Summers in Ganymede were notorious for the heat. It would have been an ideal vacation planet if it only had some beaches, but the floating cities had very crucial walls built up around them to keep the oceans out. There could be no sandy transition between water and land simply because land did not truly exist here.

He could have whiled away a few hours doing maintenance on his ship, enjoying the sunshine and the tempting spectacle that was Faye Valentine. He knew she was doing it on purpose - laying there right on the flight deck. Even if he hadn't chosen to work on his zipcraft out there, if he'd wanted to go anywhere he would still need to utilize the flight deck to launch. Faye knew that perfectly well. No, she had intentionally set herself up to be ogled.

So, covertly, he'd done exactly as she hoped. Really, it would have been rude not to. But when the information about the bounty came up, all the playful teasing atmosphere began to disappear. Real life - and the chance to make some money - would always take precedence over this little game of cat and mouse they sometimes played.

Although Spike could at least get the last laugh this time around. She thought she'd made herself impassable? He'd prove just how well he could work in a tight spot by taking off right over her head!

Day 10: Summer Romance

***

It was summer when they met. Or, well, it would have been summer on Mars. It was most definitely not summer on Titan itself - not the way she expected summer to be. There weren’t really seasons on the small mining moon. Or, not seasons as Earth and Mars experienced them. Technically seasons on Saturn, and subsequently also Titan, lasted years (more than seven Earth years and just over three Mars years) but the weather of the seasons did not vary much at all.

It was tidally locked onto Saturn with the same side constantly facing the gas giant with its glowing rings. The view, when visible, was starkly beautiful. A depressing contrast to the neverending grays and sandy browns of Titan itself. While there were rivers and lakes and seas, it was dry where the battlefield was. All desert as far as the eye could see. Desert and sandstorms and bloody conflict.

The days were long and dim. The nights were long and dark. The sky was almost constantly hazy and the air quality poor at best. Bunkers had been brought over by army trucks, long and narrow rooms where soldiers could eat or sleep or train. It was the only place where a person could take a breath and not feel as though they were choking.

She regretted volunteering immediately. But the recruiters had been so passionate about the cause. Mars desperately needed the minerals and materials that Titan had in abundance. The liquid hydrocarbons outnumbered in the hundreds that which could be found on Earth, which itself had far more than Mars. The silicates and iron were negligible, but the liquid hydrocarbons… the basis of crude oil, natural gas, coal… the energy sources that were so necessary for life everywhere.

She was no miner. No oiler. Not at all versed in how to obtain the resources from the land or lakes here on Titan. But that didn’t matter in the least. She was the brawn. The brute force. The line of defense for those hard working individuals.

Her unit and the half dozen other units waging a drawn-out war against forces from Europa and Ganymede. Mars had had a military presence on Titan since the first Titan War, but Elektra herself had only been stationed there since she left Mars during spring.

Vincent, as it turned out, had been on Titan considerably longer.

They met while on patrol one dusky evening. She witnessed him saving the life of another soldier by using his own body to shield the other man when a section of the trench collapsed in a bombing attack from the enemy. She'd always appreciated strong men, men who fearlessly stood up in protection of others. And while the way he filled out his uniform was certainly easy on the eye, it was actually the way he carelessly pushed the boundaries of what was allowed that gave her a secret thrill.

His thick black hair was longer than what was permitted and caught her eye both for the luxurious sheen in this dusty world and for the way the length flouted the rules so boldly. His eyes were gray and kind. His hair was what she noticed first but it was the eyes - the window to the soul, as they said - that held her rapt.

Something about her must have appealed to him as well because as soon as the alarm blared to signify the end of their shift he was at her side, a question in his gaze that she answered wordlessly by rising up to capture his lips with her own.

The kiss was greedy, possessive, powerful. They were soldiers, fighting to show off their skill. They were on the forefront of a brutal engagement where they saw comrades falling each and every day.

Survival was by no means a guarantee. It wasn’t just the enemy forces they had to worry about. The methane rain, the blinding sandstorms, the chilling temperature drops, the venomous creatures scuttling about on this godforsaken rock. There was no end to the threats that they faced, even in slumber.

This war, unlike the first on Titan, was a summer war and theirs was a summer romance.

Their affair was invigorating. He was an incredible lover, attentive and energetic and full of charm. They spent hours together whenever possible, though being in separate units meant that their schedules did not sync very often. But they made the most of every encounter.

She learned that he had been a soldier for years and outstripped her in both rank and strength. It became a form of foreplay for her to contest her abilities against his. In this dangerous place, with no hope for getting home, it was crucial to keep honing your skills. To pour your all into fighting techniques and breathing techniques and dreaming about a return you might not live to experience.

Hand to hand combat turned into life-affirming love making every chance they had to steal away.

Theirs was a deep connection, the most intense relationship she’d ever had. He worshipped her body with his, he beguiled her mind with recitations of poetry and chapters of philosophical books he’d committed to memory. In return, she showered him with love physically and emotionally. She ran her hands through his mane of hair, singing softly to counter the howling winds outside the bunker.

They spoke of goals outside of survival. Reminiscing about summers on Mars in the craters… the blue skies, the green grass, and everything they missed from home. Daydreams of getting back and sinking their teeth into ripe plums and peaches and whatever fruit was in season at the time. Sweetness and tartness colliding on their tongues, juices dribbling down their chins. Simple pleasures they could only revisit in dreams or in their postcoital whispers to one another.

The months passed by and they fell deeper and deeper into love. It was an intoxicating romance, the kind of desperate affair that feeds the heart and fuels the soul and forestalls any notion of ever finding another person with whom one can be so utterly whole.

And then abruptly her tour was over and she was being shipped back. It was entirely unexpected. She had signed up for three years and had only served two. But her unit was rounded up overnight and loaded onto a transport ship before she could find him to say goodbye.

Watching the moon recede in her mind’s eye - for the transport ship had no windows in the cabin where the army was seated - she felt her heart breaking.

Day 13: flip flops / thongs

***

"How disturbing! This is not the place for that!" A voice exclaimed, catching Faye's attention as she walked past a parking lot while nursing Lupin.

Stopping in her tracks, she turned to glare at the offended couple.

"Excuse me?"

Spike sighed as he came to a stop beside Faye and Lupin's little mouth popped off his mother's nipple as the baby tried to roll over towards whatever - or in this whoever - had caught his mother's attention and ire.

"Having those out on display is entirely inappropriate!" The man went on, glaring at Faye's chest.

"Oh? And yet flip flops and a thong is fancy enough attire for a family friendly public beach?" Faye demanded, pointing at the man's companion - a woman a third his age with a teeny tiny set of triangles perched precariously on her breasts and with a thong bikini bottom that disappeared up her backside curves.

"You're someone's mother!" The young woman cried, scandalized.

Faye frowned at her. "Yeah? What of it? It's 40 degrees out with no breeze! And this is a nude beach to boot! In fact, you know what?" Grumbling, Faye passed Lupin over to Spike and aggressively untied her own top and then for good measure shimmied out of the bottoms too. "How do you like me now?! Fuck, being someone's mother makes the fresh air on these nipples even better than it was before I had a kid!" She stood proudly before the pair, took a deep breath in, and let it out peacefully. "Try it before you knock it or judge anyone else!"

With that, Faye turned on her heel and strode on down the beach, leaving Spike - grinning bemusedly and still holding Lupin - to follow.

"You know …it's not actually a nude beach, right Faye?" Spike chuckled as he caught up to her, shifting Lupin in his arms as the baby began to fall asleep. "Ed put up those signs to fuck with people."

Faye let out a sheepish laugh. "That girl I swear… Well, let's get further down the beach so I can put my suit back on. I don't want those prudes to see me climbing back into clothes as if I'm in the wrong."

"Baby, you make wrong look so right," Spike teased, waggling his brows at her lasciviously.

Prompt Day 6: Breeze

***

It was fully dark by the time the cops had left with Rhint in custody.

The wreckage of their seacraft remained on the rocks just past the walkway along the shoreline - no doubt the removal or recovery of the damn thing would cost her. Maybe she could get something from the scrapyard since it would be beyond her financial means to fix the thing. Besides, she had nowhere to go which means no need for a vehicle.

Jet was long gone now too. Crashing back into her life just to try and take charge once more. Worrying about her, the way he always had. It was positively stifling. Even now she could hear his words to Rhint playing over and over in her mind… protect her, protect her, protect her… as if she was incapable of looking out for herself. As if she were a child.

Fury rose up in her, nearly choking her.

She clenched her fists, closed her eyes tight, and concentrated on taking slow deep breaths in… then out… in, then out.

With effort she managed to calm back down. Keeping her eyes closed, she hung her head and tried desperately to swallow down the tears that were threatening.

Rhint…

She was terrified for him. Self defense plea or not, he would have to serve time for his crime. Murder wasn't something they just put people back out on the street after. And he was such a sweet sensitive soul. He could barely handle roughing up the thugs that sometimes loitered in front of the bar. Killing the loan shark had been a terrible accident and she knew it would haunt him.

A gentle breeze stirred her hair. The tang of salt water teased her nose. It was late and dark and the water was cold but the breeze that caressed her face was surprisingly warm. Like the sigh of a mother, full of care and encouragement. It buoyed her spirits.

Lifting her chin from her chest, she reopened her eyes at last to take in the beauty of the glittering night sky. Countless stars scattered like diamonds on dark velvet, the moving points of light from the satellites and space stations just beyond the atmosphere. Infinity stretching out above her.

The breeze made her feel renewed. In an attempt to keep her worries about Rhint at bay, she focused on all the opportunity that lay ahead as she made the long, long walk back to La Fin.

There was insurance on the building… perhaps a fire would erupt down the street and engulf her property. Or, a gas line explosion? Though that seemed far more difficult to pull off. She knew an inferno would be easier to begin and escape from - messing with the gas, well, she wasn't trying to off herself on accident.

It rained on Ganymede plenty. Maybe the roof was in rough shape? A persistent leak could have damaged the structural integrity to the point of potential collapse. Actually, she really ought to investigate that when she got back. When she had taken over the mortgage of the structure she hadn't thought to inspect the building. The interior and all the dreams it could hold, that was all she had been concerned with and able to see. And damn if she hadn't pulled it off.

La Fin had been a refuge for folks in that quarter. The French Quarter (though in reality all of Ganymede had drawn heavily on inspiration from that once beautiful country on Earth). It had whispered to Alisa of romance, of breathtaking art, of fame and fortune. At one time, it had not only boasted all of that… those concepts had been truth. She had just been in the right place at the wrong time.

Everyone was hurting. Everywhere was run down. The news anchors spoke in scared tones about economic depression and soaring interest rates and food shortages. To be fair, there were always food shortages. On a world where 98% of the surface was water… that didn't leave much room for agriculture. Everything on Ganymede was a manmade construct - all the floating isles, with their grandiose cities, all the underwater science stations with their attempts at farming seaweed.

Trade relations with other moons and planets were crucial to the survival of Ganymede as a colonized world. Oh sure there was an abundance of aquatic life that had taken to the seas after being transplanted from Earth, but no one could survive solely on fish and there just weren't enough community gardens to feed an entire population.

It had never seemed so dire when she was a child. Her parents had sheltered her to some degree - and then of course so did Jet - but even aside from that, there had been more hope in the world. More assurance of a bright future for all.

And now, well, she was hardly the only person who had been forced to make uncomfortable choices. Who had to make terms with questionable allies. In some ways she had been lucky to even make it as long as she had. For years she'd successfully ran La Fin, mixing cocktails and offering a listening ear along with some general guidance or specific advice - like a good bartender ought to. She had run a business and been damn good at it. Her parents would have been proud if they'd lived to see the day.

Hell, she was proud of herself. It had been a clean establishment with liquor that hadn't been watered down the way a lot of the other bars tried to cut costs. But in the long run it didn't matter when gradually people were less and less able to afford to imbibe. Not only that, but rising housing costs were forcing families to move from the area because people couldn't afford the new rents.

The French Quarter was becoming a ghost town and Alisa wasn't sure what to do next. What move could she possibly make that others in similar situations hadn't already tried? There was no grant money out there. No credit cards she hadn't already maxed. No government assistance. She had already tried all the legitimate methods of survival before finally turning to Law Rentzuo, financial broker by day and thuggish loan shark by night.

Not her smartest move but then again she'd been out of smart moves. She'd been out of moves entirely except that last ditch effort to stay afloat.

It was after midnight by the time she got onto the street where La Fin was. Her apartment was conveniently located upstairs - which of course had made the cost of the place outrageous. It was a cute little place though, tiny and tidy just the way she liked it.

The lighting on the street was not particularly illuminating and so she had nearly reached the doorway by the time she realized someone was standing there with their back leaning against the door itself.

She stopped with a gasp, one hand flying to her chest and the other falling to the pocket at her hip where the gun rested.

"Ah ah ah, I wouldn't do that if I were you, Alisa."

"Who are you?!" Her voice shook.

The man ignored her. "You thought your debt died with Rentzuo? Don't be silly. You still owe that to his partners. See, Law was working with Europa. Lots of folks in this area are working with Europa. Things are changing around here - the docks'll be open again and trade will flow. So it's gonna work out real good for you actually, Alisa. You're gonna run your place same as ever. You're just gonna also hustle some stuff on the side for us. Gonna help Europa keep a nice discreet grasp on this neighborhood so the cops don't get too frisky. It's all gonna be good, Alisa. You'll see. Europa runs things real smooth, real professional. Don't you worry your pretty little head."

The man stepped away from her bar and gave her a nod as he walked off down the alley, leaving Alisa alone with her chaotic thoughts.

Europa Syndicate?! Hustling what? Hiding things from the cops?

An icy chill ran down her spine. The breeze had changed.

Suddenly the stars seemed dimmer, the night much colder, and her daydream of escape was dead. Fear coiled in her stomach and made her hands tremble as she unlocked the door and slipped inside.

She couldn't do this. Whatever they wanted of her. She wouldn't.

But… she had told Jet she was going to wait for Rhint. That hadn't been a lie - she had wanted Rhint at her side when she left. She still wanted Rhint at her side. He loved her so wholly and depended on her so much. Surely she could manage to keep herself together until he was released. How long could it be?

She would just play the game for now. Toe the line and keep to herself. And then Rhint would be back and they could take off together. Abandon this place and her debt. Together they would escape, free as the breeze…