It’s an entirely different jungle inside Eastern Fringes. The streets are narrow and neglected. The homeless set up camp along major streets and businesses, begging for money to fund their next dose of Magnolia or some other drug. The Eastern Fringes have been referred to as the blind spot of Capitala. Only half of the crimes committed are reported, and of that half only forty percent are solved. After Petyr sobered, he spent his free time giving back to this community; coaching basketball to underprivileged youth, other times he’d council AA meetings at the local clinic. He had a lot of faith in this community. He believed it could be restored, little by little, block by block. I admire that about him.

Kim’s luxury sedan stops just outside the front of Petyr’s condo. She observes the high-rise’s deprived entryway with a look of dread.

“Thank you for ride, Ms. Rae,” I say.

“Of course, sweetheart,” she says anxious chuckle.

“We’ll see you tomorrow morning at nine for breakfast,” says he Keith as he unfastens his seatbelt. He leans over the center console and hugs her. Keith and I walk up to the front doors of the complex then turn around to wave Kim goodbye a final time. We enter the lobby. Toby, the building manager and close friend of Petyr and I, pokes his bald head out from the service window.

“Ayden!” he jeers excitedly. “How’s it going buddy? You look like shit!”

“Not half as bad as you,” I fire back. Toby roars into a fit of laughter and rests his scented vape pen aside on the service counter.

“Ah, and who is this dashing young man?”

“This is Keith, my boyfriend,” I reply proudly with a grin stretched from ear to ear. Toby looks to Keith then to me and bounces his eyes brows rapidly with a suggestive smirk.

“Gotta keep a close eye on this boy. He gets into trouble a lot,” Toby says to Keith.

“Trust me, I know,” he replies. I roll my eyes and scoff.

“Oh, and before I forget! Petyr got a package too big for his mailbox. Can you take it up to him? I tried delivering it to him personally but he wasn’t home.”

He takes out a fairly large package from underneath the desk and slides it over the counter to me.

“Where has he been anyway?”

“He’s in intensive care. He was victim to the bombing at the bank Friday afternoon,” I reply.

“Great goddess! That’s terrible! I read about that on the web but I never thought if Petyr was working his shift that day!”

“Yeah, well, the doctor said he’s recovering but it’ll be more time until he is fully conscious.”

“I’ll be sure to say a prayer to Fortuna for Petyr,”

“Thanks,” I say, taking the box. “Good seeing you, Toby.”

I call the elevator. Keith reaches for my hand but has a hard time familiarizing himself with the new shape of my cybernetic palm. We exit the elevator into the corridor of the twentieth floor. The walls are paper thin. I can hear a dog barking loudly from one of the rooms nearby and a group of men cheering for their home team in another. The fluorescent lamps are either dim or completely burned out and the tasteless, floral wallpaper is peeling from age. I have second thoughts about bringing Keith here. I glance over my shoulder to check on him as we walk to Petyr’s loft. He appears unfazed. He smiles amusingly then uses my old arm to wave to me. I usher Keith inside Petyr’s loft then lock the door behind us.

“Alessa, I’m home,” I shout. The integrated home assistant powers in the entryway lights.

“Welcome home, Mr. Myers,” says Alessa stoically. “You have thirty-seven unread messages, sixty-six E-mails, and one invitation for an upcoming event from Janet Hochoa titled: Brunch question mark. Would you like for me to draft automated responses?”

“Hold until further notice,” I reply, placing Petyr’s package beside the entryway. “Hey could you take off your shoes, please? Petyr doesn’t like shoes in the house,” I say while taking off my own. I walk over to the kitchen.

“Do you want anything to drink?”

“I’m good, thank you,” replies Keith. I browse the refrigerator and grab the last can of Capi-Cola for myself.

“I didn’t know Petyr collected art,” comments Keith. I follow him into the living room where he is admiring a few hand-painted, ceramic sculptures on display above the fireplace mantel.

“Yeah, Petyr’s wife, Gina, taught a ceramics class at one of the local high schools,”

Keith moves down the mantel and points to a few photographs of Petyr and his late family. He frowns a bit, then moves over to a photo of him and I during one of our fishing excursions.

“That’s a big fish,”

“It was an Arcathian sturgeon, it weighed about fifty pounds and took an hour to reel in,”

I pop the top off the soda can and chug it as fast as humanly possible.

“I’m gonna shower,” I say, followed by a satisfying burp. Keith exhales sharply and chuckles.

“Take a seat and watch some TV. I won’t be long.”

I make my way into bathroom down the hall. I flip on the light then take a look at myself in the mirror. My hair is greasy and matted, and my skin is covered in a layer of ash and sweat. I wince, then quite literally peel off the soiled clothes stuck to my body. I chuck them towards the far corner of the bathroom near the hamper and welcome the brisk air onto my skin.

“Alessa, shower two on. Temperature one hundred degrees,” I command. The shower spews out steaming hot water instantaneously from a shiny chrome nozzle. The water is invigorating and soothes my aching muscles. Pounds of grime melt away, turning the water at my feet a hideous murky brown. I wash away the grease from my hair with a generous amount of floral scented shampoo, restoring it to its former sheen. I move on to my body, and scrub every inch with a loofah until my skin turns an even shade of red. Satisfied with my level of cleanliness, I adjust the flow of water and lie back in the tub to allow the steady stream to massage my sore body. I close my eyes for a moment and and embrace the tranquil warmth. From the depth of my mind a vision of the Pyrokinetic plummeting to his death appears. I jolt awake just before his body hits the ground.

“Fuck,” I curse to myself. I briefly reflect on what Doctor Polo told me, then seek a distraction. Without much thought I open StarForge. I get to work collecting resources from my vast network of planetary quarries and then deploying naval fleets to invade enemy bases. After a few minutes of vigorous tapping, I there is nothing left to do in-game.

“Alessa, shower two off!”

I step out of the tub into the chilly air then wrap myself with the towel hanging on the rack nearby. I enter my bedroom across the hall and slip into a pair of athletic shorts and a muscle shirt. I return to the living room and see Keith is lying on the couch staring aimlessly into space. I furrow my brows peculiarly.

“You okay? Why aren’t you watching TV?”

He continues to stare into space silently. “Do you know the last thing I said to my mom before we stopped talking? I told her, I don’t want to see your face ever again. I almost died yesterday… if Jen didn’t come when she did…”

“No, no, no! Don’t think like that!” I say, rushing to his side. I pull him close and embrace as tight as I can. “Your alright! Okay? Nothing bad happened to you!”

“I know, but what if I followed you to the lobby? What if you were killed?”

My chest tightens and my sinus area begins to burn. I see the fear in Keith’s eyes. I wish I knew the right words to ease his mind. So I hold him tighter and plant kisses on his forehead. It’s little consolation but I don’t know what else to do.

A thought occurs.

“I think we could both use a distraction,” I set off for my bedroom. Somehow, I forgot about my secret stash. I reach underneath my bed and pull out my secret bottle of tequila. I return and present it to Keith. He stares at the bottle mortified.

“Oh, babe! I have no tolerance! My nickname used to be one-shot back in med school!”

“That’s alright, just a little bit to get the edge off!” I take a swig then pass it to him. Keith reluctantly accepts and sniffs the bottle.

“Oh, goddess! It smells like pure ethanol!” He holds his breath and knocks back a swig. He coughs. A lot.

“I can’t believe people drink it straight,” he sputters.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have drunk that last bottle of soda. It would’ve been a great chaser.”

Keith hands me the bottle of whiskey and I throw my head back and chug. It burns like hell but it’ll be worth it later when I’m wasted.

“Slow down, you shouldn’t even be drinking in your condition!” exclaims Keith. I stop.

“Then you drink for me!”

“I can’t drink this alone!”

I pass the bottle back. Keith takes another swig and then me. We pass the bottle back and forth until the bottle reaches half empty. I begin to feel a little buzz and my concentration narrow. Keith on the other hand, is red in the face and ears.

“How do you feel?” I ask.

“I feel fine,” he replies confidently. He blinks a few times. “Yeah. I feel real fine.”

“Maybe this was a bad idea. Let me get you some water.”

Keith throws himself on top of me, pinning me down with his deadweight.

“Just stay here...” he murmurs.

“But you need water,” I firmly reply, setting the bottle of tequila aside before I accidentally spill some. Keith grips tightly around my waist. I roll my eyes and deeply sigh. His hands slowly work their way down my waist, and then around back to squeeze my cheeks.

“Getting familiar are we?”

“I can grab my boyfriend’s butt! It’s not against the law!” Keith’s snorts.

“Well if that’s the case…”

I slip my hand under the wait and of his pants and grip his tender cheeks. He whimpers softly and gently thrusts his hips against my thigh. I squeeze again, coaxing another whimper. My ears get hot. With my cybernetic arm I rub my palm up Keith’s back, casually lifting his shirt. He twinges slightly and clutches my shirt with his hands. He looks up to me with pleading eyes.

“Why don’t you show me your room?”

I couldn’t think clearly, all the blood rushed from my head and traveled south.

“My room? My room!” I exclaim. Keith nods expectantly. I take him by the hand and escort him to my room. I frantically fix the sheets if my unfolded bed, patting the surface to invite Keith. He sits at the edge of my bed, his pale face red as a rose. He struggles to undo his shirt buttons so sit beside him and take over. He quivers as I open his shirt and kiss his bare chest. He slowly lies back, sinking into the sheets and pillows blissfully. I remove my tank and press chest against his. I kiss his neck. Keith whimpers again and it drives me insane. It’s like music to my ears. I hear a clicking sound as Keith fumbles with his belt. I help him with the buckle then gentle pull his jeans to his ankles. Keith’s skin is almost hot to the touch, yet he trembles like he’s cold.

“Hey, are you alright?” I ask.

“I’m fine, j-just a, just a bit nervous,” he replies sheepishly.

Keith’s member throbs from beneath his green boxer briefs. I take my hand and gently stroke his shaft through the soft cotton. Keith whimpers again and throws his head back. I revel triumphantly and kiss his neck again.

“Take off your pants, I want to see you,” he says softly. I eagerly discard my shorts and boxers.

“Ta-da!” I say with jazz hands. Keith sighs deeply and shields his face with his palm. I chuckle then pounce on top of him, pressing against him with every inch of my body. I grip his soft thighs before easing my hands underneath his briefs. Kieth gasps as the cold surface of my metallic fingers stroke his rod. He throws his arms around my neck and pulls me closer to him. I hear his heavy breaths of pleasure against my neck. It’s exhilarating.

I free Keith’s member from the confines of his lone garment. Seeing Keith lying vulnerable stirs something primal within my loins, and it yearns for satisfaction. I take Keith by the hips and flip him over onto his stomach. I’ve seen this side of him once already, but it looks more appetizing than before. My grope his cheeks with each hand. He arcs his back, enticing further exploration. I wet my index and middle fingers with my mouth and delicately probe inside of him. He winces for a moment, then relaxes. I creep further inside, working my fingers to loosen the warm flesh. My member throbs with anticipation, pleading to feel the same warmth as my fingers. I stroke it to satisfy the craving for now. I plunge deeper, adding an additional finger. Keith grunts, but doesn’t falter. He stirs his hips to the rhythm of my advances.

I remove myself from inside Keith and flip him onto his back. His face is beet red. I kiss him on his soft lips while preparing myself for entry. I thrust my hips gently forward, the tip slides in. Keith whimpers again, but it’s a pained whimper. I quickly pull out.

“Sorry! Sorry!” I panic. Keith sighs deeply then glances over to his satchel on the floor.

“I have something in there. Left zipper pocket. I pull the satchel towards me and rummage through the pocket he mentioned and pull out a single unwrapped condom. I look to Keith for confirmation.

“Afraid I’m going to get you pregnant?”

“It’s lubed, you dummy,” Keith says with a facepalm. I wrap the rubber sheath over myself. The jelly coating the condom is cool at first but then warms up to my body temperature. I hold Keith’s legs up then slip inside. He shutters, clutching the bed sheets then letting out a satisfied gasp. I lean closer to him then kiss his forehead. I stir my hips gently, savoring each blissful stroke. Keith moves his arms around my neck. I steadily increase the speed of my pumps. Keith’s whimpers gradually turn into loud moans of pleasure. He tries his best to hold them in, but I wasn’t going to allow it.

I pump faster, and harder. Keith’s muffled moans turn into overstimulated yelps. He claws into my back and shoulders with his nails then cries out my name. I wasn’t going to stop. I pump harder. Keith squeezes his legs tightly around my waist. I seize the opportunity and lift Keith onto my lap. He hugs my body as I continue to deliver thrust after thrust. I can feel his member grind against my abdomen with each movement. He bites my shoulder, hard, then murmurs something. His body shutters and I feel a sudden warm, sticky feeling on my abdomen. I feel every twitch and spasm of his climax. The sensation is overwhelming. I curl my toes as a surge of ecstasy ripples through my body and into Keith. The two of us lie beside each other, catching our breaths.

“How’d I—do boss? Did I get the job?” I ask. Keith rolls his eyes playfully then chuckles. I lean in to kiss him but my cybernetic arm rings. I glance down to my arm. “Caller Unknown” it reads across the display. I answer.

“Hello?”

“Hello, may I speak to Ayden?” says a woman in a flat tone.

“Is this Doctor Maureen?”

“Yes,” she replies. “Ayden, I need you to come to the hospital immediately. There’s been a development in your father’s condition.”