Unlike the other buildings that lined 4th Street, R.O. Mechanics was—and always will be—a complete anomaly.

With its slightly asymmetrical exterior design and two-tone walls, it was practically screaming to be noticed. It was tucked awkwardly between two homes, both of which slightly brushed against the chipped shingles.

'Building contractors definitely fucked around with this,' Cyrus chuckled, shoving the slightly stuck door open, the telltale jingle of the bells above resounding through the room. "Oi, we're ba-" he stopped, barely recognizing the flying projectile aimed for his head.

Wham! Cyrus' head spun from the impact, curses spewing under his breath.

"What the hell, Miss Reyes?" He groaned, recognizing the horridly familiar tinge of pain lingering in his skull.

'Those stupid motherfucking black clogs.'

"Watch your language, Greene. Ain't nobody got time for a smartass kid on these streets, and you know it," A tired voice called from across the candle-lit workshop, slightly muffled from the hoard of tools and shelves haphazardly strewn across the room.

Logan sniggered at Cyrus's luck, said redhead silently burying him six-feet under with a sharp side-glance.

"Yes, Miss Reyes," Cyrus grumbled, roaming towards the back of the room with Logan in tow.

Besides the obvious cracks in the maroon walls—and, is that mold?— there was something undoubtedly cozy about the whole place. The tiny candles in the heat-resistant mason jars glowed brightly from above, inviting the two boys with open arms. They pushed past the lumps of scraps scattered around, eventually reaching the back of the workshop, which was a complete mess: Miss Reyes, sprawled over her chair like a lifeless doll, and her partner, Mister Okoye, smacking his cheeks repeatedly (probably trying to stay awake)?

'How the hell did she aim that well when she can't even keep her head up?'

"Oh, y'all are here!" Mister Okoye announced, the boys cringing when his long legs slammed against the edge of his desk. The man cursed under his breath, slipping out of his seat more carefully. Before he moved to greet the boys, Mister Okoye turned towards the now fully-alert woman lounging in her seat, armed with a black clog in her right hand.

"Jimena, there's no point in throwing shoes at me. You know these kids curse all the time!" He whined, swinging his hand just in time to catch the black clog flying towards his face.

"Bet it was you who taught them how to curse that well in the first place, Idris,"She responded, her eyes slightly narrowing. Jimena crossed her arms and turned towards the two boys in question: "Well? Was it him, you two?"

"Nah, that was all you." The boys responded in tandem. They looked at each other in surprise.

Idris laughed heartily, the 6'6" man easily picking the 5'3" woman up and preventing her from beating the shit out of the two kids in front of them. The boys watched in amusement, Jimena's shouts of "PUT ME DOWN, YOU FUCKER" ringing in their ears.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Logan told Jimena about what happened.

Cyrus set his prized bread on the table, as he watched Idris pour the steaming black liquid into his slightly chipped teacup. With a quick 'thank you,' he turned his attention back towards Jimena and Logan, both of which were looking at him expectantly.

"What?" He asked, mindlessly tapping his fingernails against the porcelain.

The question was clear enough.

"Why did you steal from the Food District again?"

Cyrus drank his tea silently.

"Greene, you can't keep doing this."

"Yeah, Cy, Miss Reyes is right. What are you going to do if the Militia finds out?"

His insides boiled.

"They're going to recognize your patterns eventually-"

"-about the other criminals lurkin' about?"

Was the tea really that hot?

"Cyrus, are you listening?" The two asked in unison, jolting the boy from his trance. All eyes were on the redhead, his form slumped in the sinking loveseat. No matter how much he wanted to simply sink deep into the recesses of his seat, Cyrus scrambled his brain to formulate a good answer.

L̵̛̦͔̱̥̽̃́̿̚͘į̴̦̟̣̭̣͈̹̅͗̓̆̒̏̔̕͝ȩ̸̤̯̮̠̫̤͚̠̯̹̃̄

'Shit, it's starting again!'

"I just wanted to have some fun," Cyrus muttered, his words muffled by his shirt riding up near his mouth.

"Cyrus, are you kidding me? How the hell is stealing fun? You're going to get yourself killed!" Jimena scolded, her voice ricocheting against the walls and through his skull. She looked towards the boy, stress pressed between her eyebrows and heavy in her words.

Idris and Logan side-glanced at one another, a knowing look shared between their eyes.

"Jimena, calm down. Yelling at him isn't gonna solve anything, ya know?" The man said softly, resting his large hands around her shoulders. She took a deep, shaky breath.

"Miss Reyes, I'll bet there's a proper explanation for this. Cyrus has always got a reason for everything, right, Cy?" Logan assured, turning towards the boy in question. Cyrus sipped his tea once more, his right leg shaking violently.

'Fuck, I can't hear anything'

"Logan, he doesn't give a shit. Look at him! He's practically just begging to be killed at this point!" Jimena cried, her shoulders shaking under Idris' hands.

"Jimena, no," Idris started, attempting to soothe the woman's fears.

"What the fuck are you playing at, Cy?" Logan grabbed onto the boy's ragged shirt, Cyrus' tea slipping out and staining the carpet a darker red. Cyrus' tried to make out Logan's face from behind his red strands, but his eyes only drifted downwards, slipping far away alongside his thoughts. He could barely recognize the person shaking his body for answers, let alone the other two people in the room.

They just kept slipping.

Logan nearly screamed when Cyrus' eyes rolled to the back of his head, hurriedly setting the boy's lifeless form back on the loveseat. Jimena ripped herself from Idris' hold and knelt beside Cyrus, pulling his arm towards her and checking the tiny device embedded on his wrist. "Idris, grab some water," Jimena ordered, sliding her fingers across the display.

Name: Cyrus Greene

Age: 19 Years Old

Condition: Possibly Unstable

Would you like to notify this patient's emergency contact?

YES NO

Would you like an impromptu diagnosis of this patient's condition?

YES NO

Please wait...

Scanning for issues...

Scanning for possible injuries...

Scanning for oxygen levels...

Scanning for blood levels...

Scanning for cortisol levels...

Please wait...

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Diagnosis Results:

Blood levels: Stable

Injuries: None

Oxygen levels: Stable

Cortisol levels: Unstable

Evaluation: Excessive stress

"You're more trouble than you're worth, Greene," Jimena started, squeezing his hand in hers tightly. His hand was quite soft compared to her calloused one.

"Idris, can you please-"

"Nah, I got it, Miss Reyes," Logan cut in, slipping his hands under Cyrus' neck and knees, pulling him into his hold bridal-style. Jimena and Idris slightly chuckled as they watched Logan waddle towards the couch at the end of the room, nearly dropping Cyrus flat on his face in the process.

"I'll run over to Ava's and give her the heads up that Greene is staying at our place for a while," Jimena said, rushing down the stairs and back to the workshop area. "Grab him a blanket, one of you!" She called out before closing the door behind her.

"You gonna stay till he wakes back up, Logan?" Idris asked, turning towards the boy who was in the process of pulling out a wool blanket from the closet tucked in the corner of the space. Logan turned towards Cyrus, listening to the boy's soft snores.

'What's going on, Cy?'

Logan turned towards Idris, letting out a long sigh.

"Somebody's gotta watch the bastard."

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Name: Jimena Reyes

Age: 28

Height: 5' 3"

Weight: 53 kg

Background: Mexican-American

Condition: Stable

Data Transfer: In progress (2.3 TB)

Partner: Idris Okoye (see next for details)

Would you like more information on Jimena Reyes?

YES NO

Name: Idris Okoye

Age: 26

Height: 6'6"

Weight: 99 kg

Background: Nigerian

Condition: Stable

Data Transfer: In progress (1.8 TB)

Partner: Jimena Reyes (see back for details)

Would you like more information on Idris Okoye?

YES NO

Processing request...

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Records uploaded to Terminal 3

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Would you like to continue?

YES NO

Name: Logan O'Donnell

Age: 19

Height: 5'5"

Weight: 63 kg

Background: Irish-American

Condition: Stable

Data Transfer: In progress (3.3 TB)

Partner: None

Would you like more information on Logan O'Donnell?

YES NO

Processing request...

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Error. Reprocessing...

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This information has been locked from your access point. Would you like to request access?

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Filing request. Please wait...

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