Page 15 of Jump or Fall

Mara

M ara hadn’t ridden a motorbike in years. In Division Two, they weren’t as common, and her daily life revolved around a small, walkable area. A vehicle had never been a necessity.

After stashing her coat and helmet behind the map, Gordon handed her a dark, faded green jacket similar to his own. Before putting it on, she ran her fingers over the fabric—a well-made blend of aramid fibers and ballistic nylon.

He passed her a full-face helmet. “It’s not nearly as impressive as yours, but it’ll work.”

As they stepped out of the tunnel, she took in the surroundings.

The road was loud and pulsing with motion as motorbikes and cars raced past. Towering buildings lined the streets, their neon signs casting a kaleidoscope of color across the pavement. A slight breeze carried the faint scent of engines and street food, thickening the already stifling night air.

Gordon led her into an alley partially obscured by a large hedge. He rolled out a sleek sports bike with dark blue fairings. The bright lights above reflected off its smooth exterior, subtly shifting its color.

He flipped down the passenger pegs and climbed on. Then, he patted the seat behind him.

This was a lot bigger than a hand touch or a risky hug .

Mara secured the helmet, heart pounding. She took hold of his shoulder and swung a leg over, settling onto the seat. Her knees pressed against his sides, his presence filling her senses.

He feels so nice.

Would he be put off if she held him? She didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, but falling would be bad.

Gordon turned. “You’ve ridden a bike, right?”

“Not in a long time.”

He bobbed his head. “Lean with me on turns.” Then, he gripped her knee and pulled her snug against him. “You can hold onto me. I don’t bite that hard.”

Hidden behind the helmet, her eyes were wide. He touched her knee—he wanted her to hold him. A big, dumb smile spread across her face as she wrapped her arms around his waist.

He took one of her hands and placed it on the storage compartment in front of him. “Try to brace yourself on this when we brake. That’ll help keep us from sliding forward.”

Heat erupted in her cheeks. That was not where she imagined placing her hand just now.

What the fuck—I’m an awkward teenager all over again.

She managed to make a small noise to let him know she understood.

Once he made sure she was hanging on tight, they sped off into the chaos.

The city blurred past in streaks of color and motion. Her heart raced as they weaved through traffic, dodging cars and other motorbikes.

She hugged him tighter in a secret embrace, the rumble of the engine vibrating through her chest; the thrill of the ride fusing with something deeper.

Gordon must have noticed. His hand found hers and gave a small squeeze.

Fuck the mission. She wanted this to last forever.

But reality crept in, as it always did .

They veered down Tyre, cutting into a shadowed alley cluttered with bins and scattered trash. Gordon killed the engine and helped her down before rolling the bike behind a large pipe protruding from the wall.

She followed him through a narrow doorway and into complete darkness. Her eyes strained to adjust, but she could only make out faint shapes. Gordon’s fingers slipped unexpectedly around hers, making her jump. They were wearing their gauntlets, but the move sent a rush through her all the same.

He guided her up a metal stairwell, each step producing a dull clang, until they reached the landing.

He led her into a room, this one dimly lit by the glow of city lights shining through the grimy windows.

Judging by the smell of rust and wet concrete, the building they were hiding in hadn’t been used in a long time.

Gordon removed his helmet, and she did the same, tossing it onto the lone table near a wall. He peered out the window then gestured for her to come look.

Mara crouched beside him and followed his line of sight.

From here, they had a distant view of where Paragon intersected with Tyre.

The lights reflected off the dark street as pedestrians bustled between each other and weaved through traffic.

A food vendor stood on the corner doling out orders for the small crowd around him.

Gordon shrugged off his coat, revealing a plain t-shirt and the suit gauntlets. In the dim glow, she could make out the lean muscles that had, until now, been concealed by his coat during previous meetings.

What would he feel like pressed against her now, or with even less clothing between them? The way he’d grabbed her knee had sparked something in her that she’d thought was dead: desire.

Stop ogling him like that. Get it together.

Mara took a slow breath and slipped off her own coat. The heat was oppressive tonight, and her most recent stripe had healed enough to leave uncovered. She never wore short sleeves outside her apartment, so she felt quite exposed. Gordon’s gaze flicked to her arm, but he said nothing .

Instead, he reached for her left wrist, his touch gentle as he flipped open the clear casing over the gauntlet’s controls.

A quick tap brought up a soft blue projection—a 3D map hovering just above her wrist. It was the intersection, and showed two star markers indicating where the explosives were planted.

He twisted his fingers in the projection, rotating the image and zooming in.

“You can move it around to view different angles. This button here,” he pointed, “will set off the EMP. The red one next to it will detonate the blister box. When they go off, you’ll see an impact radius.

If you tap your wrist again it’ll kill the display. ”

Mara tapped and watched the projection flicker and vanish.

“How long do we have?” she asked.

Gordon checked his gauntlet. “Five minutes until Wells starts the fire.” He pressed a button and added, “I’ve sent a bird, so they know we're here.”

“A bird?” Kimmie had said that the night before, but she’d forgotten to ask what it meant.

“It’s a robotic surveillance bird,” he clarified. “Looks real though and Naxos is pretty keen on them.”

“Do you think you’ll ever go back?”

His jaw tightened. Maybe she shouldn't have asked that.

“Probably not,” he said. “But I haven’t planned that far out. This is a win-or-die-trying kind of thing.”

The weight of those words hit deep in her chest. She turned back to the window, trying to stifle the ache. She didn’t want to imagine him dying.

After a beat, he spoke again. “Do you plan to leave Hyperion? Teichus?”

“I don’t know.” Her voice was quiet. “I guess my answer’s the same. But I wouldn’t even know where to go. I don’t know if anywhere would want someone like me.”

Or anyone .

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“My entire life is making armor and being a plaything for a sadist.” She shook her head.

“And I’m not needed for the armor anymore.

The synth-minds don’t just improve the suits—they can replace everything I do.

We won’t need a person to take measurements, troubleshoot, or operate the joiner.

It can all be automated. The data can be analyzed and optimized without human expertise.

The synth-mind can even think of better designs.

” Her voice dropped lower. “I started saving skiff to have an out for when Dawson decides I’m too old or gets bored of me.

But now, I realize it’s for when I can’t make armor anymore.

It’s the only outlet I have, and soon… it’ll be gone. ”

It was strange to say it out loud. She didn’t exactly have anyone to talk with about these things.

Gordon’s expression was troubled. He started to speak but was cut off as a flare of orange light came through the window. Down on the street, a trash bin had burst into flames.

The people outside scattered, desperate to get away from the flames and impending accusations. The vendor from before quickly retreated with his cart.

Enforcers arrived within minutes, alongside a fire containment crew. The containment team extinguished the blaze quickly and vanished, but the enforcers stayed, fanning out across the intersection.

Gordon switched his gauntlet display to a live aerial feed. An enforcer came into view and tapped their head twice.

“That was Kimmie,” he said. “She’s given us the signal.”

He pointed at Mara’s gauntlet. She brought up the projection, watching the figures converge at the marked location.

Gordon nodded once.

Fingers trembling slightly, she pressed the button.

On the feed, their targets recoiled, tapping their helmets and waving in confusion as they realized their comms were down.

Two more rushed over .

Gordon gave her a stiff nod.

Can I really do this?

She inhaled slowly, steadying herself. Then she hit the second button.

A sharp boom rocked the building. The window shuddered in its frame. At the intersection, part of the building had crumbled in the blast.

An alarm blared, so loud it rattled her head.

Gordon cracked a faint smile, grabbed her hand, and pulled her to her feet.

They sprinted through the building and donned their helmets, their feet pounding against the metal stairwell.

Back on the bike, she wrapped herself around him again. He maneuvered them deeper into the alley so they could exit from the other side.

Mara clung tight, knees tucked in and arms locked around his waist to avoid colliding with the bins and pipes in their path.

With a sharp left turn, they shot into traffic.

She loosened her grip slightly, heart still hammering. Her mind drifted to the possibility that someone had died in the blast. The thought should’ve upset her more—but it didn’t. Enforcers had never protected her.

At least everyone else had already cleared the area.

They stopped near the Crux tunnel entrance and hopped off. Gordon quickly stashed the bike while she unlocked the door.

The moment the door sealed behind them, the world fell silent.

She sat against the wall, catching her breath.

“What now?” she asked.

He tilted his head back and sank to the floor. “We wait to see who was hit and how they respond. We can’t do this every day if we want to keep a low profile. Right now, it just looks like random outbursts.”

Mara nodded, shrugging off the borrowed coat before sinking down beside him. The rush of adrenaline mixed with the humid night had left her a sweaty mess, and the cool air inside the tunnel was a welcome relief .

“Do you think anyone died?” she asked.

He studied her. “Would it bother you?”

“I don’t know… I’m not even as bothered as I thought I would be about the possibility.”

He shifted closer, their shoulders touching, and then he offered his hand.

She glanced down at the upturned gloved palm resting on her thigh and took it, regretting the barrier the gauntlets created between them.

“Dump the skiff,” he said, voice quiet but firm. “Please.”

The bottle sat heavy in her pocket.

Her easy way out.

“But what if I’m caught?” she whispered.

“If you take them… then there’s no chance of getting out alive.”

Why did he care so much?

“Please… I don’t want you to die.” His hand squeezed hers.

Mara withdrew it from her pocket and turned it, listening to the faint rattle of the pills inside.

She held it out to him.

Gordon took it without hesitation and tucked it into his coat. With its absence, a subtle weight had lifted.

“I’ll take it to the clinic,” he said. “Make sure it’s gone.”

She leaned her head against his shoulder. Her way out may have been gone, but he was here.

He rested his head against hers, stirring something deeper—fierce, impossible to ignore.

Maybe he didn’t see her as a shattered mess of a person.

While she wavered between doubt and hope, one truth shone through the haze.

She would burn this entire city for him.