If there is something I’ve learned in my life, however short and tarnished it may be, it's that everyone wants something. Anything. There is a wanton desire ingrained as deep as the trenches of the ocean. It's human, I would say.

“O’ Desire. There shan’t be a better word than thee, for the lands anew bequeath thine mystery.” I mumbled, my voice sounding immature even to my ears as I looked out from the relative safety of my overlook amidst the sea of dunes. It was a famous quote, supposedly spoken from the lips of an ancient captain upon arriving on the once pristine beaches of North Arkhanika.

Truer words had never been spoken, nor had they faded to the obscurity of time just as so many others have. In the close to six hundred years the Arkhanikas had been discovered, countless wars and skirmishes had been fought over this cursed landmass.

Even now, with most of North Arkhanika in shambles, people still fight each other. And for what? Desire? Not that I would label myself as anything better than they. Like I said, everyone wants something.

From my outlook, oh so far away amidst the Outskirts, Aythryn City didn’t seem to be the sinful cesspool it was. The megabuildings and corpo towers reached towards the skies like the fingers of fallen giants. Neon wrapped around the place like a cloak, shimmering in the light rain that befell the rotten streets. Advertisements flashed and holograms twirled, all trying to entice that desire we destroyers of worlds are known for.

The glass windows and the metallic design of the majority of the buildings, looking as if they had been stacked on top of each other over centuries instead of decades, reflected the neon. The reflections added back to the entire ambiance, making the place glow. Kaijen influence was everywhere throughout the place, intermingling with gaudy splashes of color. Torii gates, at least the large ones atop the skyscrapers, were present even from here, several miles out into the Outskirts.

The oblique grays and oppressive darks of the city hid behind the facade of light and color, just as the true darkness hid behind the appeal to desire. Aythryn City was home to many, being a megacity of its size it could and did support close to a few hundred million people. The city was one of the few places in the world that could accomplish such a feat, and it wasn’t as seamless as it might appear on the surface.

If it wasn’t the corporate overlords exacting a toll of blood, then it was the gangs. Hundreds of smaller ones and several massive ones controlled the streets, outside of corporate areas of course. Savants and Scavs hid amongst the civilian population, raising a death count in no way inferior to the larger gangs and corpos.

Truly, it was a city of hidden warfare. Only the naive corporate drones and uber-broke traveled without a pistol or gun of some kind, and even then they held knives and shivs. It was the type of place someone could walk from home to the superstores and be mugged several times if they weren’t careful. The forces that attempted to protect the city could only do so much, and murder was so common most bodies were picked up by the truckload. Slab Co. made a killing on, well, killings.

An entire section had even been abandoned by the ‘law’, becoming a den for those too broke to escape and the gangs. Even the most fearsome of gangsters kept out of the couple dozen blocks that formed the Scath Heights.

The projects weren’t much better, but at least they had corpo rent-a-cops patrolling the apathetic megastructures. Sixteen people crammed into a micro apartment, sharing their meager stamps for food, would invoke crime well on its own. Thankfully, I didn’t have the great despair of living in such an exploitative environment.

I leaned my head against my motorbike as I settled into the sandy outlook of mine. The desert Outskirts surrounding the den of avarice weren’t much better than the city itself. They had their own host of problems, but at least I could breathe out here. The pollutants and scent of burning drugs and diluted aphrodisiacs were far too present throughout Aythryn City for my liking. Even if I had been living in such wretched squalor all my life, I couldn’t get used to it.

The air was one of the main reasons I entered the Outskirts on occasion. There was the chance of getting hunted by the Hawks, or a nomad family opening fire on me, but to just breathe was quite the luxury. Assuming the sandstorms kept to themselves of course.

It wasn’t the only reason either. Sometimes it was nice to just- just get away from the overpopulated mesh of buildings. It did good for my mental state. Sure my bike’s fuel to get out here wasn’t free, but hey, it was far more affordable than a drug addiction. And AE3 wasn’t too expensive compared to fossil fuels.

I rubbed a hand across my face and turned up the music pounding in my eardrums. The harmonic beats and electronic distortions of lo-fi had been a favorite of mine ever since I picked up listening to music. It was far better than the punk and pop soundtracks of the modern era, and far more soothing than the ‘pioneering’ artists like Thus, Crack.

The earbuds - I was too poor to afford cybernetic audio suites - had done their job dutifully as I watched the city from my outlook. ‘Course, my time out here hadn’t been all sunshine and roses. I constantly kept my eye out for the gangs of the Outskirts, or worse, Dune Walkers. Even then, I would be able to see them coming from far away. As long as I kept movement to a minimum, I would be perfectly safe out here just as I had been the past few years. Movement attracted the eye, after all.

The sky sat so far above, stars even further with only the brightest one or two poking through. Years of pollution, warfare, and bombing had drained the sky of its once brilliant stars. Only out in space, or the most secluded of areas, would more than a few stars regain visibility. For us plebeians who couldn’t afford a casual jaunt into the great void? The sky was dark, almost as crushingly dark as the abandoned cities out in the wastes between populations. It's true what they say; you don’t miss something till it’s gone, eh?

My music crackled to a halt, pausing my reflections on the redundancy of life. I checked my handheld, popping the earbuds out as I went. Damn battery died. Right before the bass hit too…

I had been out here long enough though. Long enough to get sand in spots I wish there wasn’t any. Coming to the Outskirts was nice, but I could never live the life of a nomad. Sand in every crevice got real old real quick.

I stood and put my things up on my bike as I prepped to head back to the city streets. A western breeze contested the heat of the dunes as it trickled up along my side, brushing my hair away. It carried with it the scent of the ocean in all its radioactive glory; salty with a slight twinge of nausea.

Far off came the racket of gunfire, the sound bouncing off of the dunes as if a bullet ricocheting to my ears. Even though night had fallen, the world never truly slept these days. The guns were probably some outland hooligans picking on their prey as they usually did. Wouldn’t be the first, nor the last.

A sigh escaped me as I looked up towards the sky, straddling my bike. Some days- who am I kidding? Most days I wish I could’ve been born differently. Been born one of them with no worries under the freedom of space. It wasn’t my lot in life though. I was bound to stare up at the sky in all its dark glory. The occasional star and glowing red- wait, what?

My eyes snapped onto a glowing trail as it plummeted towards the surface. It was still in the atmosphere, but at the rate of its speed? It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know it would hit soon. It looked like some kinda space debris, no- maybe a drop pod? Why would a drop pod be falling in the middle of nowhere?

I should go for it. Maybe- maybe what? It was a fool's errand to chase it down. If it wasn’t some bigwig corpo gracing us with their ‘divine’ presence, it was probably something else way above my league. Like a BosSpace corporate craft. Even then, the Hawks or Nomads would get to it first...

But what if? What if I could salvage something from the wreckage and get some Rayn off it? To have pocket money for a change would be nice. I wouldn’t have to eat silage for once…

Whoever was around was currently in a gunfight from the sounds of it. Maybe I could get in, grab something, and get out? I would have to be quick. Although there was a fight going on, it would only be a matter of time until others came to investigate the crash site. I would maybe have a few minutes to check the wreckage over. Then I would book it as fast as my bike could go back to the city.

It was daring, it was dangerous, it was suicidal… but this could be your big chance, Shiro! It's what every single person in the damned city would want; a chance to get an edge on life. To get ahead of the rest. To have enough Rayn to purchase whatever their hearts desired. It could all be yours if you just looked...

My moment of hesitation was as fleeting as my resistance. I checked my weapon, a small ASCorp Sidewinder. It was more of a pea shooter than anything, but it would do. If all goes according to plan, I shouldn't even have to use it. I kicked on my bike, the bulb still unscrewed to attempt to hide from prying Hawks and other scavengers of the dunes, and raced towards the object’s LZ.

My bike flung over a dune, sand flying everywhere as my destination in sight. Whatever it was had crashed a minute prior in a ball of burning fire. The boom had been loud, overtaking the gunshots in the distance. Thankfully, once my hearing returned fully, I could still hear gunfire. Unfortunately, the boom had probably alerted the rest of the vultures out here.

Lying in a crater of glass, the surrounding area still steaming, was a drop pod. Not just any drop pod, no. A Raijin International drop pod. I would recognize the arcing bolt of lightning they used as corporate branding anywhere. A very damaged drop pod at that.

The thing, which looked to have once been white, was charred all over with what looked to be several bullet holes scattered throughout its egg-like shape. I kicked down the stand for my bike, leaving it idle as I raced towards the beaten pod. With as many bullet holes as were present, it would be a miracle if the person inside was still alive. If they were and I saved them though? Maybe I could get some kind of reward… or be silenced.

My eagerness faded to caution as I arrived in front of the door to the drop pod. The door was partially buried in sand and glass, which I promptly cleared with a quick sweep of my foot. Now with space, the pod’s door popped open in a vent of steam as it smoothly slid up.

Inside was barely smaller than an outhouse, and indeed that wasn’t a bad comparison. The drop pod consisted of one seat with complicated terminals placed all around it. More importantly, there was a man slumped in the seat with a briefcase in his lap. About a dozen bullet holes were spread throughout his body, and he wasn’t breathing.

He was seriously borged out too. Even then, the firepower of whoever got him seemed to be too much as he was most assuredly flatlined. Er- at least he wasn’t breathing.

Well, one person’s loss is another’s gain and all that. I didn’t have much time to be picky, so I leaned forward and grabbed the briefcase. As soon as my fingers wrapped around the handle, I heard a crack. A nanosecond later I felt the pain of a broken wrist as my brain finally processed the man’s crushing grip.

“Agh!” I tried to pull away, but his chrome grip was far too strong to simply get away from. For one such as myself? This would most assuredly end in death. Stupid Shiro. If only you hadn’t been so greedy, things could’ve ended differently. Now you were going to die a dog’s death in the middle of the desert-

I met the man’s icey cold cybernetic eyes, feeling the icy claw of the reaper. As soon as our eyes connected, his expression dropped and he slumped back into his seat once more, pulling me down onto his body.

A moment passed as I sat frozen in terror inside the man’s grasp. I felt a jolt of electricity buzz through my still-grasped wrist, slowly oozing its way up through my arm and to my heart. I tried to resist, but the electrical shock was too much as it paralyzed my limbs.

The strength in the chrome hand released, as did the weird electrical buzz. I backed off the drop pod, loot left behind. Several sharp breaths escaped my frozen lungs. I could feel the awkward pain of a shattered wrist as I stared at the guy. Was he actually flatlined now?

I carefully edged forward and checked his vitals. Definitely zeroed now. Must’ve been the last of his life to grab me like that. I snatched the briefcase again before heading back to my bike. I wanted more but didn’t have time to waste. It was far past time to delta.

My shattered wrist made riding the bike difficult, so I gently pulled the jack from my wrist and inserted it into the port. Usually, I hate to do such a thing since jacking into anything tends to be overwhelming, yet I didn't have a choice this time. I tucked the briefcase down in a saddlebag to hide it somewhat decently, and kicked it into gear, racing away from the crash site and the flatlined psycho. The sounds of gunshots had stopped at some point, and already I could hear engines roaring. My bike, as shoddy of a vehicle as it was, pushed itself hard as I forced the throttle faster than I had ever gone before.