Heh… those mutts were buns.
I let out a stupid little giggle as I dragged one of the crates toward the alley, the wood scraping loudly against the pavement. My arms ached, my back protested, but my mood? Absolutely immaculate.
Those three cloaked idiots who tried jumping me?
Yeah. They got fucking smoked.
No dramatic monologue. No second phase.
Just a lot of bad positioning on their part and very good sword placement on mine.
I lined the crates up in the alley, stepping back to admire my work. Sweat dripped down my forehead as I rolled my shoulders, breathing a little heavier than I wanted to admit.
"This took a while…" I muttered, wiping my face with my sleeve.
I pulled out a lighter, flicked it once, then tossed it onto the stacked crates.
The fire caught fast. Too fast. Orange flames licked upward as thick smoke filled the alley, carrying that sharp, chemical stench that screamed illegal substances.
I watched it burn for a few seconds, nodding in satisfaction. "Yep. Contractor's gonna love this."
Then I turned around and walked away like it wasn't my problem anymore.
Behind me:
A crashed truck.
Four dead bodies.
A trail of suspicious white powder.
And a growing fire that definitely wasn't city-approved.
Ahead of me?
Home.
'Time to head back!' I smiled, patting my coat like it had done half the work.
As I walked, I started idly spinning Rebellion in my hand, practicing little flicks and twirls I'd picked up over the past few months. It felt natural now too natural.
"This is kinda easy," I said out loud, whistling as I walked through the dim streets. "Nannie really had me thinking I was gonna die."
Neon signs buzzed overhead. Shadows moved in corners I pretended not to see. The City was alive, even at night especially at night.
My legs started burning about halfway through the walk.
"Goddamn this district is huge…" I groaned.
"And of course I'm too broke for a ride."
I considered stealing a bike.
Then remembered bikes cost money.
Then remembered stealing usually ends with dismemberment here.
So I walked.
An hour later, I finally reached the clinic.
I pushed the door open, the familiar bell jingling overhead. Inside, the lights were warm, the smell of antiseptic strong. Nannie sat behind the counter, typing away like the City wasn't constantly trying to kill us.
"Yo, I'm back," I said, closing the door behind me. "What's for dinner?"
Nannie glanced up, eyes tired but sharp. "The usual. Anyways did you do it?"
"Yup." I grinned proudly. "Ambushed the truck, torched the cargo, and killed three dudes with weapons. They were aura farming hard but kinda sucked. I just offscreened them."
Nannie stared at me for a second.
"…Off what?"
I blinked. "Uh."
He sighed and waved it off. "Never mind. I don't want to know." He turned back to the computer. "I'll file the report and submit a promotion request. If Hana's in a good mood, you'll be Grade 8 soon."
My eyes lit up. "Nice."
I stretched, bones cracking pleasantly. "I'm gonna wash up."
I headed toward the back of the clinic, pushing open the door that led into Nannie's house.
The contrast always surprised me.
Outside: rot, blood, and neon-lit misery.
Inside: clean floors, warm lighting, actual furniture.
A miracle, really.
I flopped onto the couch with a satisfied sigh, staring up at the ceiling. My body was sore, my clothes smelled like smoke, and my knuckles still tingled from impact.
But damn…
I felt good.
Too good.
As I closed my eyes, one thought drifted lazily through my head.
Am I getting used to this… or am I just getting started?
Either way, I couldn't help but smile.
If this was what being a Fixer felt like?
Yeah.
I was definitely sticking around.