The blade rushed from the shadows, cutting Alex’s cheek before snaking away with a rattle, like a diamondback hiding amongst the arid brush. Before it could strike again, Alex hurled herself behind a stack of pallets.

Heels clacked. A familiar grating voice yelled, “Ah, my favorite gweilo. How have you been?” Aggravation clawed Alex’s throat. “You’ve taken the same contract? Hilarious.”

Evelyn Xiang! Wherever Alex went, she unfortunately followed. “You fuckin’ useless carp! Been a while,” Alex said. Peering around the pallets, she couldn’t get a good view of where Xiang was hiding. “Tell me: what’s it like always bein’ in second place? Must suck bein’ a bottom feeder, right?”

“Oh, you’re funny. What’s it like being all bravado and bluster? Hmm?” Xiang asked.

Alex’s eyebrows twitched with a brewing fury. Again?! It’s like every job I take, this bitch appears. Even took some of my contracts before I could get to them. She tightened her hand around the gun’s grip. “Me and the local bosses know I’m the best in San Francisco. You, on the other hand, musta hit your brain so goddamn hard you’ve gone delusional.”

“Alex, you don’t remember last time? The Gregor contract?”

Boiling blood surged through her veins. Alex squinted, searching for Xiang amongst the night sky. “How can I not? You pulled a cheap shot, knocked me the hell out, and stole it from me. Didn’t your parents ever tell your dumbass not to steal from others?”

“Fuquin taught me to never kowtow to someone inferior, let alone some mangy street dog.” Silence filled the air. “Nothing to say?” Jumping down, Xiang stepped out into the graceful moonlight. Long, jet black hair flowed over her shoulders. Her slender body wore a wine-red Chinese dress with golden lotus blossoms worn underneath a white denim jacket. “How disappointing.”

Shen whimpered to himself. “First Mercer, now the Blood Lotus! Maybe if I give Woozie back the money, he-he’ll forgive. I don’t care what Mr. Sun’ll do to me - his punishment is like forgiveness compared to having these two mongrels competing to kill me.”

Spoken like someone who’s in complete denial, Alex smirked. “Sorry. Just thinkin’ about how fun it’s gonna be to repay you for the last time.” Then we’ll see who the inferior dog really is!

“If you come out, I’ll let you live,” Xiang said, revealing her chained blades with a soft rattle.

“Shen’s mine, bitch!”

“That’s not happening, okay. Some Red Lantern boss wants him dead, too.”

“There’s no fuckin’ way in hell I’m gonna let you take ‘im. Take that Red Pole and shove it.” Alex looked through the slits of wood, her heart ferociously pounding. “Let’s cut the bullshit and get right to it.” Her eyes dilated, blood screaming. You ain’t takin’ me out. No one ever gets the better of me!

A single blade tunneled through the pallets. Alex barely had enough time to get the hell out of the way. “I agree.” She snapped the chain back like she was yanking a rabid dog.

Popping up, Alex squeezed the trigger, only to find no one standing there. Suddenly, she felt a sharp pain across her cheek. A blade slithered back up into the rooftop canopy. She fired blindly in its general direction. The only sound filling the silence was the empty casings clanging as they bounced on the pavement. Again the blade hissed from the dark, striking at Alex’s heart. Alex fired back. Like before, the chain was sucked back into the night. Then, moonlight revealed her position.

Alex fired as she sprinted. Xiang pulled out a metal fan, deflecting the bullets with ease. Cheatin’ carp! Alex quickly reloaded just as Xiang threw the fan. It spun, cutting her arm before circling back to its master’s hand. Xiang revealed a second blade, whipping the ground with her twin serpents. As they swung wide, the blades shrieked. One sunk its fangs into Alex’s left leg, the other wrapped around her right arm. Her gun fell to the ground. Alex yanked, twisting the blades. Xiang lost her balance, crashing to the ground, wearily rising to her feet.

Alex ripped the blades out. She charged, elbow out, landing a bone-crushing blow to Xiang’s sternum. Xiang grinned, jumped, and wrapped her legs around Alex, pinning her down with her knees. Bloodlust filled Xiang’s twitching eyes. Frenzied pants escaped her lips. Locked, their hands struggled to reach Alex’s pistol. Somehow Alex grazed the gun just enough to tease the trigger. A shot fired, but the gun spun, narrowly missing her skull.

Xiang reached around for any blade she could find with a depraved smirk carved along her face. Possessed panting became a sadistic craving. Alex could see it in Xiang’s eyes - a scene of her lifeless body bleeding out on the ground. Blade in hand, she raised it above Alex’s head. Desperately looking around for anything that was in reach, Alex’s fingers grabbed the lid of an overturned trashcan. “Fuck!” The blade twisted. Tightly grasping the lid, Alex bashed the Blood Lotus’ skull. The blade burrowed deeper into Alex’s stomach. The first blow fazed her. The second knocked her hands away. She flopped to the ground, and Alex wrestled for supremacy, beating her senseless with a frantic barrage of fists. Xiang went limp. No movement. Nothing.

Slowly Alex staggered, keeping a watchful eye on Xiang. She wrapped her hands around the hilt, tugging. “Shh…! Fuck!” God, it fuckin’ hurts! Blood dripped as she carefully pulled the knife from her stomach. Alex ripped her sleeve off to dampen the flow.

Alex shook her head as she glanced back, disappointed to see Shen still cowering when he had every opportunity to run for his life. Watching him quiver made her blood boil. Her fingers squeezed the trigger without a second thought, and a bullet roared, ripping through his chest. His body slumped over onto the frigid ground. A warm red mist sprayed the wall. His eyes looked up to the sky one last time before losing all vitality. It looked as if all Shen was staring at the sky to Alex, watching his memories become distant stars just beyond his reach. Staring at his vacant body reminded Alex of how she used to hesitate pulling the trigger before a kill. Always used to look away. Could see the pain and regret in their eyes. They seemed so helpless. Over time though, she learned to love the feel of cold chrome in her hands, the smell of sulfur from the barrel, the musical chime of casings falling to the ground, and the sudden adrenaline surge through her veins, making her feel alive, indomitable. That and her surrogate family of nuns provided her with the proper training, and eventually, she learned to bury those thoughts.

Bending over, she snatched the briefcase from his cold hands. As she turned around, Xiang vanished, leaving only a bloody trail. With the briefcase in hand, Alex hobbled towards Woozie’s office.

The Golden Gate Bridge towered through the rolling black clouds that shrouded the bay and the murky waters below. As Alex shuffled along, she spotted a group of Milly & Meryl insurance agents calculating repair and damage claims from a recent GEHM skirmish. The first floor of an apartment building had a human indentation smashed in the brick wall. The street was littered with impact craters, ruptured. The gutted remnants of a vehicle dealership were collapsed; its fleet of cars was either smashed, used to cushion blows, or made for improvised weaponry. The end result of perceived heroes and villains clashing.

Through alleyways and dimly lit narrow streets, she made her way into the heart of Chinatown, outside the Night Markets. Its red archway welcomed anyone who entered. Splintered wood held up a fire-breathing dragon painted with jade scales that glowed under the paper lanterns' watch. Faces moved like waves. Woozie’s establishment was up Zhao Street.

Beaten and bloodied, she hid her face as she pushed through a crowd huddled around the statue of a man circled by candles flickering in remembrance. She squinted to read the plaque. “March 26, 2023 – We won’t ever forget your names and sacrifices.” A caustic testament to people who never learn from history’s plethora of repeated mistakes. It’s a vicious circle that consumes itself like a coiled serpent. Its existence is everlasting as long as people remain blissfully ignorant. Dogmatic beliefs that Andromeda tried to bestow to the masses to little avail. A self-ascribed Prometheus who gifted the benighted troglodytes with his benevolent flame.

How can you forget when it’s everywhere? Everyone talks about Andromeda, Sandstone, and the March constantly. Alex quickly gazed at the statue. GEHMS. Genetically Evolved Human Mutations. It’s already that time of year for the pity party? Damn, it gets old hearin' about ‘em. It’s always the same thing: the hero beats the villain, the villain goes to jail? Hero gets blown, villain escapes, vows revenge. Same shit all the time.

Farther up the street, the nightclub's familiar neon orange and blue lights rose above the road. Painted amongst the white walls of a derelict storefront was a mural of a person. Outstretched hands held the world in one palm, raging fire in the other. Their body was an infinitesimal swirl. Black like the deepest recesses of space, with the glinting silver eyes of a collapsed star. The figure stood on a cliff's edge, staring out into the blackened void.

Andromeda. We all know your story: twentyish years ago, you came down over Cullver City and destroyed some shit, killed some people, started a movement. Blah, blah. Thank Christ, you disappeared.

As the Golden Koi entered her peripheral, a growing crowd of pretentious bourgeoisie youths looped around the corner. The koi jumped out from its stream, flashing yellow letters. Alex yanked her head away from the mural and sneered with a crooked grin. Possibly the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. Most people indulged in their hedonistic vices and forgot about the world for a few hours. Not her. Business as usual.

Alex slid to the back and lit a cigarette, keeping out of sight. A bouncer in a crisp black dress shirt made his way down the line, projecting a list of VIPs, swiping cards, and taking crumpled money from impatient fists. As the bouncer inched to the back of the line, he glanced over at Alex, studied her bruises, and noticed the briefcase. He spoke into his com and nodded. Some people in line turned to sneer at the gutter rat, repulsed by her mere presence. The bouncer cleared his throat and fixed his waistband. He flashed his holster, and their heads quickly snapped to the front. Alex snickered and made her way to the back entrance.

Around the corner, two bouncers stood outside; one impatiently smoked, the other on his phone with his right arm in a sling. The one smoking saw her and turned, flicking his cigarette away into the trashcans. “She’s here.” The one on the phone waved him away.

Alex’s shadow washed over him. He fell silent, closed the phone, and slid it into his pocket. “Oh, sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt,” she snidely said. His head slowly turned as he clutched his broken arm.

“Mercer, leave Tao alone. I think he learned his lesson the last time you were here.”

Tao stepped back, agreeing with a passive nod.

“Oh, I’m sure he did, Winston. You gotta remind him where he stands sometimes. Little shits who think they’ve got power need to be kicked in the ass. Beating some fresh off the boat girl who sucks dick for a livin’ is about as low as they fuckin’ get. She’s trynna survive in this world just like everyone else. Last thing she needs is this asshole pistol whippin’ her.”

Winston grunted. “Even without your gun, you’re still a pain in the ass.” He eyed the briefcase. “Anyway, Woozie’s expecting you upstairs.” He held out his hand. “I know you’re good for it, but we can’t have you shooting up the place. Laobon says it’s bad for business.”

Reluctantly, she reached for her holster with a disgruntled sigh. “Here.” Winston slid the gun into his coat. “Better take care of it.” He glanced at Tao then pounded the door. The slit whisked open. Tao crouched down and whispered. Locks turned, and the door swung open. He stepped out of the way, clutching his sling as Winston led her inside.

Winston led Alex through the kitchen to the stairs leading up to Woozie’s office. Going up, he shadowed her every footstep until they reached the double doors. The doors were stained black with gold emblems. Engraved in the precious metal was an animal – a black tortoise.

Outside his office, she overheard Woozie shouting. “I’m growing tired of your constant impudence and mistakes. Do you hear me? Do you know what happened to the last person who was in your position that made me wait?” Winston rolled his eyes, silently opening the door.

Woozie paced by the windows with a phone clamped to his ear. “Hmm! Mr. Sun made a personal visit, and I hope for your sake you know what happens when Mr. – fucking - Sun is sent, don’t you?” He turned and saw his awaited freelancer, waving her over to his desk. “The last person who let me down had their asshole welded shut and was forced to shit from their mouth…” Alex plopped herself in the chair. “So, if you know what’s good for yo-…? Good. It’s about time we came to a mutual understanding. I expect the payment to be in full and delivered to my courier in the next twenty-four hours.” He tossed his phone on the desk, sat down, and irritably sighed. “Finally! Someone competent shows up at my doorstep.”

Windows overlooked the dancefloor - the glass beat like a heart from the music. Blue and purple lights washed over the thrashing crowd like a tsunami. As long as they could ignore their problems for one night, they were fine.

Alex spun around in the chair. “Dealin’ with the same old dipshits. You should hire some new lackeys. Y’know? Reliable ones.”

The shadow shrouding Woozie’s face was exposed by a dancing flame from his lighter, sparking a cigarette to calm his nerves in the dimly lit room. Black-tinted sunglasses rested on the edge of his nose. His black turtleneck made him appear to anticipate another funeral. “I swear,” he huffed, “I would love to do my hiring, trust me. But that’s out of my control.” He looked down at his phone, expecting another excuse. “If only that Fry-Face didn’t ruin everything for us….”

“Lovelace? Didn’t she kick your triad asses back to the mainland?”

Woozie grimaced hearing that name. “Nianyu kowtowed to her every demand. We were utterly humiliated. Because of that, our ranks are depleted thanks to that bitch.”

Alex turned her head away, concealing a grin. What a load of bullshit! He doesn’t wanna admit Nianyu got destroyed when the Colombians came marchin’.

Ever since the Colombians re-established their dominion, they waged a relentless guerrilla war. War? It was meticulous attrition. Lots of money and men were lost. When the smoke settled and the fires died down, the Colombians stood unburnt. Nianyu’s empire was decimated, financially crippled when she surrendered half her northeastern territory and opium routes. Now, whenever the Triads lament their humiliating defeat, they pin their bitter resentment on a particular “Fry-Face” sitting from atop her glass tower.

The door creaked open, and a hostess balancing a tray with two glasses and a bottle of alcohol walked in. “That’s enough about my worries. Care for a drink?” Woozie waved his hand over the bottle. “How about some huangjiu?”

Alex licked her lips. Can’t say no to that? The hostess carefully slid the glasses onto his desk and poured. She left the room with a brief bow. Alex picked up the glass, gave it a swirl, and took a drink. “Almost forgot this.” Placing the glass down, she slid the briefcase across the desk. Woozie carefully inspected it. “That fuckin’ bitch Xiang was there.” Saying her name made Alex’s hands curl. “She always pops up outta nowhere, I tell you. Christ, she pisses me off! Just wanna wrap my hands around her throat and look her in the eyes when they roll back into her empty skull, y’know?”

“If it’s any consolation, you got to Shen before she could. That has to be a personal accomplishment of some kind.”

With a grunt, she sunk into her chair. “Yeah…. I guess.” Digging around her pocket, she pulled out a cigarette and lighter, sparking a dim wispy flame. The pungent taste of nicotine soothed her tense nerves.

Woozie pulled the briefcase closer, reached into a desk drawer, retrieved a spare key, turned it, and popped it open. He pulled out green stacks and placed them on the table, quietly counting each one. The flapping paper was music to his ears. “As expected, you didn’t let me down.” He slid some stacks off to the side. “I also heard of a certain Red Pole getting killed. Found shot to death in the Lemon Grass’s kitchen.” A grim smile crept across his lips.

“Funny how things work out when you least expect them to,” Alex replied, twirling the cigarette in the ashtray.

He leaned in. “Coincidences aside, I don’t think I mentioned any sort of payment for another job well done. The usual amount of fifty thousand…” He sorted the stacks. “But this time, since you were able to kill some of my competition, I’ll throw in another seventy-five.” Reaching under his desk, he pulled out a duffle bag and swept the pile in. “Consider this a small token of appreciation for your continued service.” The bag dropped to the floor like a sinking stone.

Doubtfully unzipping it, Alex looked at the money. “This is way too much… I only need what I need.” Mother Gaile taught me only to take what I need to survive. “Give a beggar a few dollars; they feast for a week. Give a rich man a few dollars; they gorge for a day.” That’s what she always says.

“Oh, before I forget. There’s something that I thought you might be interested in.” Her ears pricked up. “I don’t know if you’ve heard about this, but I’ll fill you in on a contract that’s been driving the freelancers wild over the past few months. I think his name is Maximillian Roivas, and he’s got a billion-dollar contract out on his head. Sounds ludicrous, I know.”

Intrigued, Alex tilted her head. “It’s too good to believe. A billion dollars for one person? A few thousand is the average askin’ price. Contracts worth this much attract more established, professional freelancers. At least the ones that are still alive. What’s the catch?” she asked, tapping the ashtray. “There’s always some sorta catch with contracts worth this much.”

“I know just as much as Winston: Absolutely nothing.”

“So this Roivas guy’s nothin’ more than a ghost story? Got anything more concrete to go on?”

Woozie leaned in. “Actually, I do. While you were out stalking Shen, some person kept coming by the club. He kept asking anyone if they’ve seen or known about some woman. Scarlet hair. Emerald eyes. Scars. Tattoos. Explosive attitude. I couldn’t have him tarnishing my reputation as a local businessman by waving a picture of a freelancer in everyone’s faces. Winston threw him out a couple of times, but he came back more persistent each time.”

She yawned. “Yeah, and is this story goin’ anywhere?”

He tugged his collar, clearing his throat. “I asked Lang to bring him up to my office for a discussion. He wants to hire you for this exact contract. I don’t know what you did to attract unwanted attention, nor do I care. Didn’t bother asking.”

Alex slung the bag over her shoulder as she stood. “Thanks for the heads up. It sounds like complete bullshit to me. A billion dollars? Get the hell outta here with that nonsense.”

“It’s your decision if you decide to take the contract. This person is probably still in town,” he warned, finishing his cigarette. Woozie wrapped his arm around her shoulders, escorting her to the bottom of the stairs. He gratefully bowed as she stepped out of the kitchen.

On her walk home, Alex couldn’t chase the thought away. What the hell did I do to have some asshole come lookin’ for me? Did I piss off the wrong person? Is it some kinda fucked up joke? Like many occurrences in her life, it was never simplistic.