Sevika stormed into Silco's office, the door slamming open behind her. She marched straight to his desk and slammed her fist down with a sharp thud.
"We lost him!" she snapped, dropping into the chair opposite him, scowling up at Silco.
Silco, unfazed, slid his drink across the desk toward her. "You need it more than me"
Sevika grabbed the glass and took a long drink before setting it down with a clink.
Silco watched her settle. "So what happened?"
"That slimy bastard," she muttered, anger still simmering.
"The others had him cornered—went into a building to chase him. He jumped out the damn window. Landed on a pile of corpses and ran off before they could even blink."
Silco raised an eyebrow. "How high was the building?"
Sevika took another swig. "Seven stories. No clue how he walked away from that. Should've been paste."
Silco leaned back slightly, processing. "And after that?
She looked him in the eye, her voice low and bitter. "He came straight for me. Soon as I saw him, I fired. Aimed for his head, but… hit his neck instead."
Sevika rubbed her temples, jaw clenched. "He fell face-first on the ground… Damn it, I had the shot. I could've ended him right there."
Silco tapped the table with two fingers, drawing her gaze. "So why didn't you take it?" His voice was calm, but there was a sharpness beneath it.
"Going soft?"
She shook her head. "No. Not in a million years.
He… intrigued me. That's all. It's not every day someone from the Undercity makes topside tremble like that."
"I didn't let him live. I just—" she exhaled, frustrated. "I asked for his last words. I wanted to hear what someone like him would say before dying."
Silco raised an eyebrow as he brought a cigar to his lips. "And what did he say?"
He flicked open his lighter, the flame catching.
Sevika stared at him. "He said my name. 'Sevika.'"
Silco froze. The flame paused, flickering just inches from the cigar.
"He knew you?" he asked slowly. "Is he an old acquaintance?"
"Doubt it. But I can't rule it out," Sevika muttered. "I don't know anyone with a tail—but when he said my name, it surprised me."
She clenched her jaw, the memory still fresh. "I had him. He was on the ground.
Then he got up, threw dirt in my face, yelling 'Dirt attack!' like a lunatic—and dodged before I could shoot."
She scoffed, more frustrated with herself than anything. "I could barely see a thing. He grabbed my face… and released the drug.
The one everyone's been talking about in the newspapers."
She paused, the weight of the moment settling in.
"I don't know how he did it. Tubes in his sleeves? Or maybe he just makes it himself.
Either way, I kicked him off and got the gas mask on, but it was already hitting me."
Silco leaned forward, intrigued. "Interesting. How did the drug affect you?"
Sevika looked away. "The others finally caught up—but the drug… it messed with me. Twisted things. It made me see things. Made me… scared."
Silco tilted his head, almost amused. "A drug that induces fear? That's an odd drug."
"Yeah. Odd," Sevika said, voice low. "But knowing what happened at the hospital, I wasn't going to risk it. I knocked myself out."
She let the silence hang for a moment, then added, "When I came to, they told me what happened.
About the chase through the undercity. And they lost him. Again."
Silco took a slow drag from his cigar, exhaling smoke through his nose.
"Yes… I've heard about the chase. I think practically everyone in the undercity has by now.
A yellow gas trail, cutting through the most crowded district—driving people mad with fear, just like you said."
Sevika nodded. "Guess word travels fast when it's something like that."
"Thirty-five people dead," Silco said flatly. "Some tore each other apart. Others… couldn't handle the gas and dropped dead where they stood."
He leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing.
"Word goes around fast," he repeated, almost to himself. "It's just a matter of time until Topside finds out."
He sighed, taking a long puff of his cigar.
———————————
Crane set his cup down on the table with a satisfied sigh and a smile.
"Ten out of ten tea, Mr. Singed," he said, holding up both hands and flashing ten fingers.
Singed took a sip of his own, then placed his cup down calmly.
"I heard about you killing thirty-five people," he said, raising an eyebrow. "I thought your grudge was against Topside."
Crane picked up his cup again and swirled the remaining tea around lazily.
"It wasn't supposed to be a massacre—it was meant to distract."
He finished the tea with a dramatic flourish, pinky raised, then pressed the empty cup to his face and inhaled.
The suction made it stick.
"I'm evil like that, dawg," he said, crossing his arms smugly as the cup dropped and bounced into them. "That's just how I roll."
Singed stared. "Dawg? And… roll?"
Crane uncrossed his arms and grabbed the cup again, sheepish. "Yeah. Sorry. I went too stupid there. I'm better now."
He brought the cup back to his face like a mask. "Anyway—I'm just evil. I do evil things."
Singed let out a quiet sigh. "You're not evil. You're mad. And confused."
Crane bit down on the cup.
Crunch.
Ceramic shattered in his mouth. Blood welled instantly between his teeth.
"I'll have you know," he said, voice thick, "the best person I know is mad."
Singed met his eyes. "And who's that?"
Crane grinned wide, shards sticking from his lips.
"Me."
————————-
There's a bug in my room.