Veltroch's eyes lingered on the sheet, scanning the names of the Dojo's sixteen-and-up fighters willing to risk the combatant trial.
"Big turnout this year," he muttered, nodding. The Monarch Dojo had nearly eighty members, but only a fraction were old enough, or reckless enough, for the trial. His dark eyes flicked up, glinting in the office's dim glow. "Get out of here early, you three. Go home. Rest."
"Yes, Master!" Aldrich, Herman, and Julia bowed, their voices an uneven chorus. They turned to leave, boots scuffing the rug, when Veltroch's voice cut through again. "Oh, Aldrich, Herman, do go drag Bernard out of Coco's before he drowns himself in pulse."
The duo froze, exchanging startled glances. Bernard? At Coco's? They nodded anyway, filing out. Coco's was the east Lowlands' grimiest pub, a ten-minute slog from the Dojo, where booze and bad choices mixed like dust and despair.
The pub hit them like a fist. Noise, slurred shouts, clinking glasses, and some godawful music churned with the stench of stale coco's pulse, the house drink that burned like regret.
A droid zipped past, tray wobbling with glowing vials of the stuff. Aldrich's nose wrinkled as he and Herman waded into the crowd, dodging stumbling drunks and more droids..
"There," Herman said, pointing.
Bernard slumped at the counter, his broad frame hunched over a half-empty vial. His slurred words drowned in the noise, but the barman, a wiry guy with a bored smirk, nodded along, probably humoring him for the tab.
Aldrich pushed through, elbowing past a swaying Lowlander. "Bernard!" he called, voice barely cutting through the din. Bernard's head lolled, his bleary eyes squinting at them.
"Wha—? Ald…rich?" he mumbled, a sloppy grin spreading. "Join me, man! S'good stuff!"
Herman snorted. "Yeah, you're done." He grabbed Bernard's arm, but the bigger guy yanked it back, nearly toppling his stool.
"Leave me 'lone," Bernard slurred, waving a hand.
Herman leaned over the bar, grabbing Bernard's arm once more. "Come on, big guy, move it."
Bernard didn't budge, his bulk rooted to the stool. At nineteen, he towered over most Lowlanders, a mountain of a man who could snap the bar top in half. But his eyes, red from too much pulse, were soft, almost fragile. Seeing him in Coco's, this pit of stale booze and broken dreams, felt wrong.
"Can't a man drink in peace before he's done for?" Bernard slurred, slamming a meaty hand on the counter. The thud cut through the pub's din. Shouts, clinking vials, screeching music.
"You're nineteen, you idiot," Aldrich shot back, voice tight. "Plenty of time for dumb choices later. We need you sharp for the trial tomorrow."
Bernard scoffed, his laugh bitter. "Trial? Lowlanders got a sixteen percent shot. We're screwed."
Herman rolled his eyes. "Since when do you care about math, genius?"
"Since this." Bernard yanked up his sleeve, exposing a gray patch creeping across his wrist. The disease's mark glinted sickly under the pub's flickering lights.
The air in Coco's thickened, heavy with booze and the weight of Bernard's words. Bernard's gray patch stood out under the pub's flickering bulbs—a death sentence creeping up his wrist. Aldrich's chest tightened, his mother's last rattling breaths flashing in his mind.
"Four more pulses, Mako!" Aldrich called, shoving a scratched tael across the sticky counter. The barman nodded, sliding over glowing vials. The vanilla burn hit hard, numbing the dread. Time bled into the haze. They were deep in—sixth round, maybe more.Bernard swayed, his massive frame dwarfing the stool.
"Bernard, you are one fucking monster," Herman said, struggling to suppress the hiccups. "How many rounds have you had?"
Bernard, swaying on his stool, let out a wet laugh. "Ten… eleven? Hell, I dunno." His tears were gone, swallowed by the booze, but his eyes were red, haunted. "Gonna die anyway, right? Might as well go out smashed."
"Shut up," Herman slurred, clapping a hand on Bernard's massive shoulder. "You're no corpse yet, big man. Trial's tomorrow. We'll get you a core, yeah? Beat that damn disease. Who gives a bloodydeal about some success rate."
Bernard mumbled, staring into his vial. "sixteen percent. Lowlanders like us? We're fodder."
"Fuck the numbers," Aldrich snapped, his voice sharper than he meant. He leaned in, the pulse making his head swim.
Herman raised his vial, spilling half. "To screwing the odds. We're getting those cores, or I'm decking a Highlander."
Bernard's laugh rumbled, weak but real. He clinked vials. "You're a moron."
"Yours truly," Herman grinned.
The trio staggered out of Coco's past midnight, the Lowlands' dust stinging their lungs. Laughter spilled from them, sloppy and loud, as the vanilla pulse fogged their heads.
They lived in the same rundown estate, just different streets, and had to trudge ten minutes to the strutter station. Two moons hung overhead, their pale light carving shadows on the cracked pavement.
"Veltroch'd skin us if he knew we're just now crawling home," Herman said, swaying with a grin.
"Feel great, though," Aldrich slurred, his laugh echoing. Bernard chuckled too, his big frame wobbling as he glanced at them.
"Thanks, you two. This… meant something," he said, voice thick.
Aldrich and Herman slapped his back, their laughs synched, but the sound died fast. A voice cut through the night. "Well, well, the Monarch trio."
Five figures stepped from the dark. Snakepit boys, their rival dojo's worst. Alvin led them, cigar glowing at his lips. One of the best fighter in the east, maybe, but he'd never taken down Aldrich, Herman, or Bernard solo. It ate at him, and his scowl showed it.
"Alvan, is it?" Herman smirked.
"Pretty sure it's Alvon," Aldrich said, chuckling.
"Don't be dicks," Bernard said, earnest despite the booze. "Morning, Alvin."
"Fuck you," Alvin spat, flicking his cigar to the ground. A vein throbbed at his temple. "Been waiting for a night like this."
Aldrich scratched his head, swaying. "What, you want my autograph? Hurry it up, I need my bed."
Alvin's growl deepened. "We're gonna enjoy breaking you tonight."
Herman rolled his eyes. "We've kicked your ass too many times for that."
Alvin's smile twisted, sharp as a blade. "Yeah? But this time you're drunk. And outnumbered."
The trio swapped looks. Aldrich rubbed his chin. "Fair point. Only one move left…" He grinned. "Run!"
They bolted, laughter trailing like sparks in the night. "After them!" Alvin roared, his crew charging down the street.