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Description
The gentle rustle of leaves helped Vance calm down. The synthetic orange foliage was beautiful. Every time he came to Autumn Meadow he marveled at the architectural achievement. How man could build an artificial park jutting from the side of a skyscraper was beyond him.

Vance peered out over the balcony. Hundreds of cars filled the night sky like neon fireflies, sailing over the urban sprawl that winked up from a thousand feet below them. He used to bring his little brother up and count them as they passed by. But that was a lifetime ago. Before he died.

A sharp thud broke his musing. Anton was beating their snitch senseless.

“Ease up.” Vance turned toward his partner. “He’s no good if he can’t talk.”

“Cool out, Van. I know what I’m doin’.” Anton savagely kicked the downed man in the ribs, folding him. He shouldn’t have been on their turf to begin with.

Truth be told, this snitch deserved to be mashed until there was nothing left but a grease spot. Anyone who sold drugs to children deserved as much. But that was the reason they couldn’t kill him. Not before he told them where the Alchemist was.

Vance stooped next to the wriggling dealer. “Change your mind?”

The man nodded, trying to gurgle out a response.

“This canary ain’t ready to sing yet.” Anton kicked him again. Then again. Repeating the process methodically, as if trying to beat some previous record.

His partner was too pent up. What he really needed was a lady. Hell, they both did. Vance put a hand on his shoulder. “Ant.”

Anton held up a finger. Kicked the man one last time. Then stepped back and turned up his palm in invitation. “All yours.”

Vance jerked the snitch up by the lapel, pulling his face close. A moment of silence passed as he measured the dealer. The man was thinking too hard. Whatever he was about to say was bullshit. Vance looked back at his partner and gave an imperceptible nod. Anton smiled, parting the 777 tattoo over his mouth. He fished in his pocket, and his fingers came out laced through a pair of brass knuckles.

Panic swept across the snitch’s face. “Cat-” He coughed, blood dribbling from his nose. “Catacombs... Under four-square.”

Vance and Anton exchanged glances. Only lost souls dared venture there. The Catacombs were a no man’s land stretching 20 miles. So named for the stink of a thousand doped junkies slumped in a thousand sullied alcoves. It was there that Anton found Vance after his brother died. Now it was Grave-runner turf, and home to their organ harvesting operation.

The snitch looked from Anton to Vance and back. “S-so, I’m f-free to go?”

Anton leered at him, his tat spreading menacingly. “As a bird.” Then he hooked the snitch between the legs and flipped him over the balcony. “Chirp chirp, bitch.” The man fell away, his scream fading as he vanished into the field of lights below. Anton turned back toward Vance. “The Alchemist? Pffft. Like he expects us to believe that shit.”

That’s when Vance saw it. It was just laying there. A liquid gold injection pen. The dealer must have dropped it. Ligo was the shit that killed his brother. The same shit that had him laid up in the Catacombs in a bloodless stupor with the rest of the dopeheads.

Still, every time he shot up it took him back to this place. To Autumn Meadow. Counting cars with his brother. And the pen was just laying there… calling his name. Vance leaned over and reached for it.

Anton picked it up first. “Let me do it.” He pitched it over the balcony.

Vance blew a sigh of relief. “Under four-square…” he muttered, rubbing the 777 tat on the side of his neck.

“Forget it. Too dangerous.”

“I don’t wanna chop cars forever. Time to move up. Besides, ain’t you always talkin’ about how you wanna run a crew of your own?” But he was only saying what he thought Anton wanted to hear. It was really his personal vendetta against the Alchemist that fueled his crusade.

“You sure you wanna go pokin’ around in the Catacombs on the word of some snitch?”

“Fuckin’ right I do,” Vance replied. Anton was the most aggressive street soldier in the Triple Sevens. Vance was surprised he wasn’t pressing harder for this. Delivering the head of the Alchemist would mean an instant promotion. “Listen, I’m goin’ either way. Gonna leave me hangin’?”

Anton folded his arms, furrowing his brow.

“You’re all I’ve got, Ant.”

Anton sighed. Then held out his fist. “Ride or die.”

Vance bumped it with his.

* * *

Together they crept through the tunnels. Drugged out squatters were stacked in recesses in the walls. They represented everything Vance hated. His little brother used to be one of them. He used to be one of them. Part of him wanted to torch the whole fuckin’ place. Put the pathetic lot of them out of their mouth-foaming misery. Another part of him was jealous.

Just one pen. One pen and he could count cars with his brother again. At least until it wore off…

Anton tapped him on the shoulder. “Focus.” He pointed ahead. Two Grave-runners were patrolling the passageway. One large, one small. Their skin was painted an ashen gray and accented with streaks of black and white in a skeletal overlay. Vance’s hand instinctively went to the shiv in his pant leg. But both gravers were headed in the opposite direction.

The way Vance figured it, tailing the patrol would lead them to the Alchemist sooner or later.

Once the coast was clear he crept deeper into the muted darkness, quiet as a crypt. He took point while Anton covered the rear. They ducked in and out of alcoves. Stepped over oblivious junkies. Carefully moving from cover to cover as they stalked through the tunnels.

They came to a “T” in the passage and Vance cautiously slivered a peek down one side of gloomy corridor then the other. The left side was empty. Down the right side he could only make out a single graver off in the distance. The smaller of the two.

A deep guttural voice came from behind him. “What are you doing up?” The graver took him for a dopehead.

Vance turned to face him and realization sparkled in the big bastard’s eyes. He was a whole lot larger than Vance had given him credit for. His muscles stood out like thick ropes beneath his skin. Before Vance could go for his shiv, the gargantuan man had him by the throat and slammed him back into the wall. His teeth rattled in his skull, plaster crumbled down around him. In his free hand, the graver was raising a wooden cudgel fitting of his size.

Struggling against the wall with his windpipe cut off, Vance stretched for his shiv. He was almost there when a metallic clink came from behind the giant. The graver flinched, dropping his cudgel. Vance wasted no time. Coiling his fingers around the handle of his shiv, he drew it, and jabbed it through the giant’s bicep.

The graver reeled back and opened his mouth to yell. But an arm with a pair of brass knuckles on the end of it was already cinched around his neck from behind. Stumbling back, the graver fell to his knees. Vance took an underhand grip and hammered down with his shiv, pinning it into the man’s chest.

With no more than a quiet wheeze, the giant collapsed. Vance place a foot on the graver’s chest, yanked his makeshift knife free, wiped it off, and secured it to his ankle. He nodded to Anton. Then Vance struck off down the other tunnel after the smaller one. While his partner grabbed the giant under the arms and drug him into an empty alcove.

He took quick, sure steps, careful not to make any noise. The small graver was just ahead. He slipped into a recess, and peeped out.

That’s when he saw her. Her long silky hair, her smooth skin, her soft lips... All were equally perfect. Everything about her drew him in. But it was her green eyes that put the rest to shame. The eyes of an angel. The sight of her intoxicated him. Her skin was decorated with the same telltale paint as the other Grave-runners, but it did nothing to deter him.

She had a handheld scanner and was examining the seedy denizens one by one. Probably checking to see which ones had strong organs. When the woman walked around a corner, Vance glanced back and waved Anton up again. His partner was carrying the giant’s cudgel.

“Shouldn’t have come. What makes you think we’re even goin’ the right way?” Anton asked.

If Anton had seen what he had, he wouldn’t have asked that question. “Call it a hunch,” Vance replied with a smirk.

Together they inched further down. They were coming up on a light source.

The tunnel opened up into a larger chamber. The green-eyed woman stood behind a table monitoring all manner of funnels, flasks, graduated cylinders, glass tubes, and Bunsen burners. A golden fluid bubbled up from a large beaker in the center, putting off a familiar odor.

She was the Alchemist? It couldn’t be. Not this gorgeous thing before him. She was an angel. For a moment he stood captivated by her.

More like Angel of Death he reminded himself. Vance pulled out his shiv. He had to do this. If not for himself, then for his brother.

But she spotted him before he could take another step. “Anton?”

Something wooden smashed into the back of his skull and his vision burst with light. The world spun as the ground flew up and slammed into him.

* * *

When Vance regained consciousness it was dark. His head felt like it was about to explode. He pressed his hands to his temples in an attempt to hold it together. Over the ringing in his ears it sounded vaguely as if two people were talking in hushed voices.

“You shouldn’t be here.” A woman’s voice.

“I know. I tried to stop him. He was comin’ down here one way or another and I sure as hell wasn’t gonna let him come alone.” A man. It sounded like Anton.

When Vance’s eyes opened his partner was standing over him. Angel Eyes stood behind him, a hand on his arm. It made no sense.

“She…? You mean…?” Vance shook his head, clearing his vision. “You’re one of them?”

Anton held out his hands in a show of peace, the cudgel was on the floor a few feet away. “Van, it’s not what it looks like. We have a son.”

“So what now?” His head was pounding. It was still hard for him to hear, let alone think. “You gonna kill me?”

“Kill you?” Anton’s expression was hurt. “After all the effort I put into saving your ass? I was hopin’ things could… go back to normal.”

“Normal? You can’t expect to hide like this forever.” Vance had the power to destroy the Alchemist. The one who destroyed his life. And Anton could see it.

“What are you gonna do?” Anton asked, nervously.

More than anything he just wanted to see his brother again. He looked at the cook table. Several loaded injection pens were strewn about. But no amount of ligo would ever bring him back.

He thought vengeance was what he wanted. But when faced with the choice, he came to a realization. It wasn't the Alchemist's fault. He should have been there for his brother, instead of putting the dope in his hand. Anton would have never done that to him.

And now Ant was the only brother he had.

Description
The gentle rustle of leaves helped Vance calm down. The synthetic orange foliage was beautiful. Every time he came to Autumn Meadow he marveled at the architectural achievement. How man could build an artificial park jutting from the side of a skyscraper was beyond him.

Vance peered out over the balcony. Hundreds of cars filled the night sky like neon fireflies, sailing over the urban sprawl that winked up from a thousand feet below them. He used to bring his little brother up and count them as they passed by. But that was a lifetime ago. Before he died.

A sharp thud broke his musing. Anton was beating their snitch senseless.

“Ease up.” Vance turned toward his partner. “He’s no good if he can’t talk.”

“Cool out, Van. I know what I’m doin’.” Anton savagely kicked the downed man in the ribs, folding him. He shouldn’t have been on their turf to begin with.

Truth be told, this snitch deserved to be mashed until there was nothing left but a grease spot. Anyone who sold drugs to children deserved as much. But that was the reason they couldn’t kill him. Not before he told them where the Alchemist was.

Vance stooped next to the wriggling dealer. “Change your mind?”

The man nodded, trying to gurgle out a response.

“This canary ain’t ready to sing yet.” Anton kicked him again. Then again. Repeating the process methodically, as if trying to beat some previous record.

His partner was too pent up. What he really needed was a lady. Hell, they both did. Vance put a hand on his shoulder. “Ant.”

Anton held up a finger. Kicked the man one last time. Then stepped back and turned up his palm in invitation. “All yours.”

Vance jerked the snitch up by the lapel, pulling his face close. A moment of silence passed as he measured the dealer. The man was thinking too hard. Whatever he was about to say was bullshit. Vance looked back at his partner and gave an imperceptible nod. Anton smiled, parting the 777 tattoo over his mouth. He fished in his pocket, and his fingers came out laced through a pair of brass knuckles.

Panic swept across the snitch’s face. “Cat-” He coughed, blood dribbling from his nose. “Catacombs... Under four-square.”

Vance and Anton exchanged glances. Only lost souls dared venture there. The Catacombs were a no man’s land stretching 20 miles. So named for the stink of a thousand doped junkies slumped in a thousand sullied alcoves. It was there that Anton found Vance after his brother died. Now it was Grave-runner turf, and home to their organ harvesting operation.

The snitch looked from Anton to Vance and back. “S-so, I’m f-free to go?”

Anton leered at him, his tat spreading menacingly. “As a bird.” Then he hooked the snitch between the legs and flipped him over the balcony. “Chirp chirp, bitch.” The man fell away, his scream fading as he vanished into the field of lights below. Anton turned back toward Vance. “The Alchemist? Pffft. Like he expects us to believe that shit.”

That’s when Vance saw it. It was just laying there. A liquid gold injection pen. The dealer must have dropped it. Ligo was the shit that killed his brother. The same shit that had him laid up in the Catacombs in a bloodless stupor with the rest of the dopeheads.

Still, every time he shot up it took him back to this place. To Autumn Meadow. Counting cars with his brother. And the pen was just laying there… calling his name. Vance leaned over and reached for it.

Anton picked it up first. “Let me do it.” He pitched it over the balcony.

Vance blew a sigh of relief. “Under four-square…” he muttered, rubbing the 777 tat on the side of his neck.

“Forget it. Too dangerous.”

“I don’t wanna chop cars forever. Time to move up. Besides, ain’t you always talkin’ about how you wanna run a crew of your own?” But he was only saying what he thought Anton wanted to hear. It was really his personal vendetta against the Alchemist that fueled his crusade.

“You sure you wanna go pokin’ around in the Catacombs on the word of some snitch?”

“Fuckin’ right I do,” Vance replied. Anton was the most aggressive street soldier in the Triple Sevens. Vance was surprised he wasn’t pressing harder for this. Delivering the head of the Alchemist would mean an instant promotion. “Listen, I’m goin’ either way. Gonna leave me hangin’?”

Anton folded his arms, furrowing his brow.

“You’re all I’ve got, Ant.”

Anton sighed. Then held out his fist. “Ride or die.”

Vance bumped it with his.

* * *

Together they crept through the tunnels. Drugged out squatters were stacked in recesses in the walls. They represented everything Vance hated. His little brother used to be one of them. He used to be one of them. Part of him wanted to torch the whole fuckin’ place. Put the pathetic lot of them out of their mouth-foaming misery. Another part of him was jealous.

Just one pen. One pen and he could count cars with his brother again. At least until it wore off…

Anton tapped him on the shoulder. “Focus.” He pointed ahead. Two Grave-runners were patrolling the passageway. One large, one small. Their skin was painted an ashen gray and accented with streaks of black and white in a skeletal overlay. Vance’s hand instinctively went to the shiv in his pant leg. But both gravers were headed in the opposite direction.

The way Vance figured it, tailing the patrol would lead them to the Alchemist sooner or later.

Once the coast was clear he crept deeper into the muted darkness, quiet as a crypt. He took point while Anton covered the rear. They ducked in and out of alcoves. Stepped over oblivious junkies. Carefully moving from cover to cover as they stalked through the tunnels.

They came to a “T” in the passage and Vance cautiously slivered a peek down one side of gloomy corridor then the other. The left side was empty. Down the right side he could only make out a single graver off in the distance. The smaller of the two.

A deep guttural voice came from behind him. “What are you doing up?” The graver took him for a dopehead.

Vance turned to face him and realization sparkled in the big bastard’s eyes. He was a whole lot larger than Vance had given him credit for. His muscles stood out like thick ropes beneath his skin. Before Vance could go for his shiv, the gargantuan man had him by the throat and slammed him back into the wall. His teeth rattled in his skull, plaster crumbled down around him. In his free hand, the graver was raising a wooden cudgel fitting of his size.

Struggling against the wall with his windpipe cut off, Vance stretched for his shiv. He was almost there when a metallic clink came from behind the giant. The graver flinched, dropping his cudgel. Vance wasted no time. Coiling his fingers around the handle of his shiv, he drew it, and jabbed it through the giant’s bicep.

The graver reeled back and opened his mouth to yell. But an arm with a pair of brass knuckles on the end of it was already cinched around his neck from behind. Stumbling back, the graver fell to his knees. Vance took an underhand grip and hammered down with his shiv, pinning it into the man’s chest.

With no more than a quiet wheeze, the giant collapsed. Vance place a foot on the graver’s chest, yanked his makeshift knife free, wiped it off, and secured it to his ankle. He nodded to Anton. Then Vance struck off down the other tunnel after the smaller one. While his partner grabbed the giant under the arms and drug him into an empty alcove.

He took quick, sure steps, careful not to make any noise. The small graver was just ahead. He slipped into a recess, and peeped out.

That’s when he saw her. Her long silky hair, her smooth skin, her soft lips... All were equally perfect. Everything about her drew him in. But it was her green eyes that put the rest to shame. The eyes of an angel. The sight of her intoxicated him. Her skin was decorated with the same telltale paint as the other Grave-runners, but it did nothing to deter him.

She had a handheld scanner and was examining the seedy denizens one by one. Probably checking to see which ones had strong organs. When the woman walked around a corner, Vance glanced back and waved Anton up again. His partner was carrying the giant’s cudgel.

“Shouldn’t have come. What makes you think we’re even goin’ the right way?” Anton asked.

If Anton had seen what he had, he wouldn’t have asked that question. “Call it a hunch,” Vance replied with a smirk.

Together they inched further down. They were coming up on a light source.

The tunnel opened up into a larger chamber. The green-eyed woman stood behind a table monitoring all manner of funnels, flasks, graduated cylinders, glass tubes, and Bunsen burners. A golden fluid bubbled up from a large beaker in the center, putting off a familiar odor.

She was the Alchemist? It couldn’t be. Not this gorgeous thing before him. She was an angel. For a moment he stood captivated by her.

More like Angel of Death he reminded himself. Vance pulled out his shiv. He had to do this. If not for himself, then for his brother.

But she spotted him before he could take another step. “Anton?”

Something wooden smashed into the back of his skull and his vision burst with light. The world spun as the ground flew up and slammed into him.

* * *

When Vance regained consciousness it was dark. His head felt like it was about to explode. He pressed his hands to his temples in an attempt to hold it together. Over the ringing in his ears it sounded vaguely as if two people were talking in hushed voices.

“You shouldn’t be here.” A woman’s voice.

“I know. I tried to stop him. He was comin’ down here one way or another and I sure as hell wasn’t gonna let him come alone.” A man. It sounded like Anton.

When Vance’s eyes opened his partner was standing over him. Angel Eyes stood behind him, a hand on his arm. It made no sense.

“She…? You mean…?” Vance shook his head, clearing his vision. “You’re one of them?”

Anton held out his hands in a show of peace, the cudgel was on the floor a few feet away. “Van, it’s not what it looks like. We have a son.”

“So what now?” His head was pounding. It was still hard for him to hear, let alone think. “You gonna kill me?”

“Kill you?” Anton’s expression was hurt. “After all the effort I put into saving your ass? I was hopin’ things could… go back to normal.”

“Normal? You can’t expect to hide like this forever.” Vance had the power to destroy the Alchemist. The one who destroyed his life. And Anton could see it.

“What are you gonna do?” Anton asked, nervously.

More than anything he just wanted to see his brother again. He looked at the cook table. Several loaded injection pens were strewn about. But no amount of ligo would ever bring him back.

He thought vengeance was what he wanted. But when faced with the choice, he came to a realization. It wasn't the Alchemist's fault. He should have been there for his brother, instead of putting the dope in his hand. Anton would have never done that to him.

And now Ant was the only brother he had.