Page 101 of Neon Flux

To my surprise, Hinokawa’s ancient face twisted into a grin. “Oh, Cyanos, there are some things in this world even more powerful than that badge of yours.”

“I doubt it.”

The old fucker smiled. “Angels who have been banished from heaven become devils, isn’t that right?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He waved his hand. “I’ll give you some time to think on it.”

An ice-cold prick hit my neck and everything went blurry. It wasn’t a neurodampener. Tech was too expensive when a good old-fashioned dose of ketamine would do the trick. A few accidental deaths didn’t matter much.

I fought it.

I vaguely recalled being dragged down a hall, the Kitsune neon signs flashing and distorting as they came to life, their hideous laughter mocking as my shoulder twitched.

Time sped up.

Stilled.

Didn’t matter much at all.

Eon’s face floated in front of me, filled with an emotion I didn’t recognize.

I didn’t want to kill you,she said.I don’t want to kill anyone.

Her purple hair swirled into smoke. Kitsune laughed in the shadows, their neon eyes guiding me—until their faces changed.

Faces I knew.

Faces from my past.

The first time I killed someone, it was like watching a machine shut down. No gasps for breath. No cries for help. Just a switch flipping off.

And in this city, there are a lot of switches.

I was fourteen again.

A different dark alley. Twitching even worse.

I’d only had my Flux for a year, still learning to control it. Still getting used to the implants I’d been given—and I hated anyone seeing me practice. I always twitched like hell when they glitched.

I was behind a dumpster in Magenta. I kicked a hole in the rusted metal, and a dozen fat rats tumbled out, trying to scurry away.

Sparks fizzed at my fingertips. At that age, it didn’t take much to piss me off, and my own incompetence was more than enough. Bolts of electricity shot from my fingers, ricocheting off the alley walls as the rats scattered. I lashed out again and again, the hairs on my arms raised from static.

More.

More.

Eventually, more from luck than anything else, one rat got hit.

I leaned against the alley wall, panting, waiting for the surge to pass. Then I walked over to the rodent.

The smell of burnt hair and flesh overpowered even the rot of the alley. It looked like it had been left on a grill for ten hours too long—charred black from the inside out.

I nudged it with the toe of my boot. Nothing.

The crackling hum of my Flux had faded, but my hands still tingled with leftover energy. My fingers twitched, like they hadn’t gotten the message that the surge was over.