The Fallen Part II

Through the haze of neon and cigarette smoke, Saul approaches another establishment. This one stands slightly apart from the others, its facade adorned with holographic butterflies that flutter across worn brick. The entrance gleams with polished brass, a stark contrast to the grime-covered streets.

A man in an expensive silk suit blocks Saul's path. His shoes reflect the neon lights, too clean for East End's filthy streets. The man's cybernetic eye focuses on Saul's face.

"Word travels fast about enforcers asking questions. One of my girls might have what you need."

"I'm not here for-"

"The white-haired captain, yes?" The man's smile doesn't reach his eyes. "Sabine knows things. But her time is... premium."

He names a figure that makes Saul's jaw clench. The amount would drain half his monthly salary, already stretched thin by RespirX maintenance.

"That's robbery," Saul growls.

"Information has its price." The man shrugs. "Especially the kind that keeps you breathing."

"...Fine." The word tastes bitter on his tongue. "But this better be worth it."

The man's smile widens as he gestures toward the brass doors. "I assure you, officer - Sabine never disappoints."

***

The brothel room bathes them in soft amber light, all plush velvet and polished chrome. But there's nothing soft about Sabine's expression as she slams the door behind them. Her eyes burn with barely contained rage.

"You wasted your money. I mentioned the boat ride once. Once! And these vultures..." She spits the word. "They sold me out the moment they caught wind of an enforcer sniffing around."

Saul takes a step forward. "If you know anything about the girl-"

"I won't betray her." Sabine whirls to face him, her voice like steel. "Unlike some people, I understand loyalty."

"This isn't about loyalty. It's about justice."

A harsh laugh escapes her throat. "Justice? From an enforcer?" Her fingers curl into fists. "I was twelve when your kind gunned down my parents. During the protest. Remember that? When they ordered you to shoot into the crowd?"

Saul's broken arm throbs as the memory hits him - the chaos, the screaming, the weight of the gun in his hands.

"You people talk about justice while murdering innocent civilians." Sabine's voice shakes with fury. "Your 'justice' left me an orphan."

The amber light catches the tears in her eyes, but her stance remains defiant. "So no, I won't help you hunt her down."

The stolen knife hums to life in Saul's trembling hand, casting an ethereal blue glow across the room. His fingers feel numb against the neural interface as the laser edge flickers to life.

Sabine's eyes fix on the blade. "Really? Pulling a weapon on an unarmed woman?" She crosses her arms, unimpressed. "I guess that's what enforcers do best."

The knife wavers in Saul's grip. His broken arm throbs beneath the cast, each pulse a reminder of his desperation. The blade's light reflects in Sabine's eyes, cold and unflinching.

"How far you've fallen, officer." She spits the title like poison. "What's next?"

Shame burns through Saul's chest. The knife's weight suddenly feels unbearable, its stolen presence a physical manifestation of his failure.

Without a word, he turns and stumbles toward the door. The brothel's hallway blurs past, neon and chrome melding into a nauseating stream.

He bursts out onto the street, gasping as his RespirX struggles to process the air. The knife burns against his chest where he's tucked it away, each step carrying him further from what he once believed himself to be.

***

Salt-laden wind whips across the dock as Saul hunches against a rusted shipping container. Dark circles ring his eyes, deepened by the constant scan of the horizon.

"Here." The ferryman approaches, holding out a bowl of soggy oats. "You need to eat something."

Saul doesn't even glance at the offering. His gaze remains fixed on the murky waters. "Unless those oats come with information about the girl, I'm not interested."

"Been three days now." The ferryman's weathered face creases with concern. "You're no good to anyone half-dead."

"You saw her ship. You were the last one to see her. If you'd been more observant, more useful..." He lets the accusation hang in the salt-heavy air.

The ferryman's shoulders slump. The bowl of oats trembles slightly in his calloused hands before he turns away, leaving Saul to his solitary watch.

***

Metal groans against metal as Brehm's ferry scrapes the dock's edge. The captain emerges from his cabin, his ear still patched. He freezes at the sight of Saul's haggard form blocking the gangplank.

The stolen Cyberblade hums to life in Saul's trembling hand, casting an eerie blue glow across the dock.

"Tell me where she is. You tracked her before. You know her routes."

"Are you really threatening me for information?" Brehm's lips curl into a sneer. "What happened to proper procedure, officer? To serving and protecting?"

The knife wavers in Saul's grip. Dried salt crusts his uniform, evidence of endless days spent watching the waves.

"Look at yourself." Brehm gestures at Saul's disheveled state. "You look just like an East End thug with a knife. Is this what the badge stands for now?"

The laser edge flickers, matching the tremor in Saul's hand. Dark circles ring his bloodshot eyes as he struggles to maintain his threatening stance.

Brehm steps forward. "Put the knife down before you hurt yourself."

"I need to find her."

"And what then? You can barely stand." Brehm's gaze fixes on Saul's cast. "That arm still giving you trouble?"

"I can't let her escape."

"Escape what? Justice?" Brehm barks out a laugh. "We both know this isn't about justice anymore."

The knife lowers slightly.

"Fine." Brehm sighs. "I'll take you to Pallas. Last I heard, she was heading that way. But not because I'm scared of that knife - because you look like death warmed over."

"Pallas?" The knife powers down. "You're sure?"

"As sure as anyone can be tracking that ghost of a girl." Brehm turns toward his ferry. "But we leave now, before I change my mind about helping a desperate man with a weapon."

"I'm not-" Saul starts to protest.

"Save it." Brehm waves him aboard. "And for hell's sake, get some rest during the trip. You're no good to anyone in this state."

Saul stumbles onto the ferry, legs weak from days of standing watch. The stolen knife feels heavier than ever as he tucks it away.

"Why help me?" he asks as Brehm starts the engine.

"Because someone needs to stop you from destroying yourself. And if finding that girl is what it takes, then so be it."