Nike glared at the officer in her room. It was a different one every couple of hours, but the investigators were the same — a male and female pair. They didn't wear armour like the officers, but their badges displayed on their chest was unmistakable — SPD investigators for serious crimes.
Murder will do it.
Life in the Slums felt like a sealed off enclave on its own, protected by the Dowager's influence. No doubt, she paid off the SPD to turn a blind eye on her activities as well. But with the coup, arrangements crumpled, someone's pocket must have hurt by it. The gangs against each other in the power vacuum only added insult to injury.
"What happened at the Underbelly?" Qairul asked, his eyes trying to bore a hole into her forehead. His slender fingers formed a steeple on the table that separated them.
Nike glowered right back. She had no other recourse, cuffed to the bed as she was. She wasn't well enough to walk, peeing through a tube, getting her meds through a tube. She was practically plugged into the wall at this point. The heart rate monitor beeped a little quicker, betraying her.
"There were at least 27 bodies we could re-assembled from the parts we found just in that one room," Tan followed up, she drew a chair and sank into it, her large frame barely fitting.
Nike grimaced, refraining from rubbing at her eyes. Sleep had been horrible. It didn't matter how long she slept, she felt tired all the damn time. A hunger gnawed in her guts as her hands shook.
"I told you, I don't know," she growled, anger igniting in her chest like a fire with oil poured into it. It was the truth, she didn't have more than snatches of memories and anything she could remember was made hazy by a blanket of remembered pain.
Nike shifted, her ass had went numb. Lexi had somehow wrangled to be her only caregiver, taking care of all biotic inhibitor injections and changing her dressing. Apparently, nobody else wanted to treat the freak.
The slur still rang darkly in her head. In the Slums, she was the Champion. Applauded, cheered or hated on for reasons she understood. But out here in Midtown, she was labelled a freak, made to think her powers were something she was supposed to be ashamed of. She couldn't reconcile the two halves.
"Freak, if you don't tell the truth, there can be no leniency," Qairul pointed out. He lifted a hand up to show her a data pad. "You wanted information about two street kids — Alex and Tiny."
"We can tell you what we've found out in exchange for the truth," Tan picked up where her partner had left off.
Nike stiffened. Information on the pair had been dangled in front of her for days. She knew even if Tiny had gotten away, it was impossible for Alex to. She must still be somewhere in the hospital. Unless she's being questioned like I am… I have to get her out of here. We can't stay here.
"You're what?" Tan asked, dragging her attention back. "17? 18? You'll be trialed as an adult. And you will be going away for a long time for all those murders. There's no doubt it's your handiwork, they can only be done by a freak."
Qairul sighed and pulled up his omni-tool. "Let's just start with your name."
"My name?" she asked, a stupid idea forming at the back of her mind.
He nodded. This was the height of her responses since they started hounding her with questions. Nike grimaced, she wasn't feigning one. Pain was ever only a shift of her body away. The painkillers didn't work as well as before. Lexi muttered something about policies that line the pocket instead of helping the patient.
"I don't remember. I think I have a head injury. I might have brain damage. I seem to remember Dr. T'Perro telling me my amp was all kinds of screwed up."
Tan stood suddenly, her chair screeching as it scraped against the floor. Anger flashing in her eyes as she pressed a hand into the pillow just next to Nike's head. Hot breath beat down her face as Tan leaned in. Nike tried to keep the grin off her face, but her lips couldn't help the smirk that tugged at her lips.
"My head hurts, you ask too many questions. All I remember is Alex and Tiny, tell me what happened to them, maybe I'll remember something."
Tan's nostrils flared wide as the investigator took in deep breath. Nike flinched when Tan placed a light touch on her bad shoulder. The dull pain rose, cresting like a wave and crashed over her. A bullet had ripped a hole through her shoulder. Lexi had made sure she retained full function of the joint, but to ensure it didn't hurt when she exerted herself in the future, she needed further surgery — surgery which the hospital's director had declined to approve.
Nike glared at Tan with a fury she reserved only for a few. The pressure increased. Squeezing her eyes shut as flashes of Frank's face flickered behind her eyelid, she bit her lower lip to hold back a groan.
"Don't think you can get away with this for long. It's only a matter of days before the director convince your doctor to sign off on the papers to release you into our custody. We'll see about your head trauma then, shall we?"
The door clicked opened and Nike looked desperately at it. Sweat poured off her forehead, she shivered as the pain turned sharp and overwhelming under Tan's hand.
Nike caught sight of a flash of blue skin. That was enough. She groaned, long and loud. Lexi strode in, clearly unhappy. As unhappy as Lexi was, the words out of her mouth sounded light and bright. The asari language was a beautiful thing.
Why did they have to take my omni-tool away? If only I have a translator implant…
Breath hissed through gritted teeth in deliberate inhales and exhales. Panic welled up in her chest suddenly, slamming into her chest. She tried so hard to push it away.
This wasn't the Slums, the same rules didn't apply. Logic wanted no part of it.
Desperately, she clung to the half of the conversation between the investigators and Lexi she was able to comprehend, but their voice warped and grew hollow. She couldn't focus to retain any information.
Someone touched her leg. It was only a slight pressure, but it made her jumped. Eyes jerking up, afraid it was Tan again, she found Lexi looking back at her. The investigators had left. Am I that out of it? The heavy blanket of fatigue had left her irritable at the best of times, the emptiness at her core didn't help either.
Lexi knew Nike didn't have the translator implant, but it didn't stop her from speaking. On and on she went, words lyrical and melodic. Nike liked to pretend Lexi sang praises at how brave she was as cool hands pulled down her gown and unwinded her bandages to examine and apply a fresh coat of medi-gel before re-dressing the wound again.
Maybe Lexi is taking care of Alex too, maybe she has hidden Tiny away from the SPD…
Wishful thinking, she scolded herself. Nobody cared about Slum Rats. As bad as the Slums was, people were predictable there, clear motives and clearer actions. Here, they smiled as they twisted your arm.
Another touch, this time against her bare shoulder. Nike lifted her eyes to meet Lexi's. Her green eyes warm and gentle now when they hardened like ice earlier. The investigators got the brunt of that frosty glare. Nike offered up a small smile. The entire exchange had exhausted her. She wish she could leave because the investigators would be back to try again in a few hours. They always returned.
Lexi gestured with the syringe. For a split second, Nike thought the contents glowed red. The monitor beeped in protest. Lexi was quick to put the syringe away. Her blue hand gripped Nike's tightly. Just holding, just being there. The pressure eased the panic. Despite knowing the answer, Nike asked, "Again? "Can't you help a girl out a little? A jail break now won't go amiss."
The doctor folded her arms across her chest. A frown creased her brow, eyes rolling in exasperation. It wasn't the first time Nike had suggested this. Lexi spoke and Nike shrugged, filling the words with whatever she wanted. "You know I wish I know where Alex and Tiny are. They must be somewhere around here. How about you distract my guards and let me go have a look around?"
Lexi's gaze softened, more words came, but even she sighed and shook her head eventually. Wishful thinking, she scolded herself again. She was going to jail, no doubt about it. She had seen photos of prisons before. Concrete cages to lock people away from society. And she was the danger to others.
She shuddered, despair slowly creeping in as Lexi resumed what she was doing. Lexi emptied the contents into her IV, taking away the one thing she needed to get out of this situation.
Trapped. She was already in a prison.
Nike tracked them. This time Qairul took the lead as Tan paced in the background like a tiger, all snarls and growls. Something made them press her more than usual. They never left the room when Dr. T'Perro came to do her rounds. They took less breaks. And when they did, they argued outside her door.
Sleep remained bad, fatigue and her inability to concentrate made her irritable, but she held her tongue around the investigators. Her anger and frustration only turned inwards. Nike pressed a hand against her temples. The headache pounded away against her head. But what was worse than all that combined was the hunger — ever present, never creasing, eating her form the inside out.
"Someone had reported this to the Alliance," Tan barked. "Who the fuck was it?"
"We don't have time to investigate that," Qairul pointed out. "And at this point, it doesn't matter."
"I bet it's the fucking asari," she growled.
Qairul didn't speak, but Tan was already on a tirade. "We don't have much time," she went on. "Not unless the judge is willing to sign the court order to make sure she goes on trial here. All those deaths… Someone has to answer for them."
"You know the Alliance has priority when it comes to biotics. They snap them up as fodder for their war machine," Qairul pointed out.
"Fuck, this is the case we needed, the one we've been waiting for. If we can pin it all on her, we can take credit for taking down the murder case for the century. This is a case that can make our careers."
"I know but if the girl won't talk—"
"We have to make her," Tan's voice dropped to a whisper. "Before the Alliance send their people down. Paperwork should delay them for a bit."
Chills ran down Nike's spine. She rubbed at the omni-cuff against her wrist. The skin there rubbed raw from how much she tried to work her hand loose at night. A familiar panic rose, tightening her chest, squeezing her lungs. The fear no longer theoretical but something very real.
No Meg, no Frank, no Reds, no one.
"So, are you ready to co-operate?" Qairul asked, turning the datapad in his hand.
Nike could clearly see Alex's photo displayed on it. She forced herself to keep her eyes on the investigator. "Sure," she drawled. "Is it time for the doctor to come check on my head injury?"
Tan's face darkened instantly. She stepped forward and braced herself against the side of the bed. Nike's hands curled into fists. She clawed desperately for her biotics as she fought to keep the light smile on her face.
"I think you really do have a head injury," Tan said, sinking down onto the bed right next to her bandaged up leg.
Qairul narrowed his eyes and glanced at his partner. Tan reached out and took the datapad from his hands. She turned it so it faced Nike. She stabbed at Alex's picture with her finger, the picture enlarged and filled the screen.
Alex stared back at Nike, eyes glazed over where once fire burnt. Cuts and bruises lined Alex's splotchy skin. The datapad tinged everything in orange.
Nike resisted the urge to yank the datapad out of Tan's hand, mindful of how close she was coming towards her leg. There was no moving that leg encased it was in a omni-cast, tubes draining fluids from it post-surgery.
"Do you remember now?" Tan pressed, pulling the datapad away. "This girl here you called Alex… She's dead."
Blood drained from Nike's face, her fingers and toes went cold as her heartbeat pulsed loudly in her ears.
Dead?
Her mouth opened and closed as she blinked. Time slowed as Tan and Qairul looked at her. The corner of Tan's lip curled upwards.
Dead? No…
She swallowed against the lump forming at her throat. It refused to budge. Her eyes grew hot and wet as she took shuddering breath after breath into lungs that had forgotten how to work.
But we got to the hospital. I got her to the hospital. She is alive.
In her mind's eye she could see Ross glaring accusatorially at her. "You were supposed to take care of them," he hissed, his voice echoed and filled her ears.
If they saved me, they would have saved her too!
"Don't you remember?" Tan pressed, "You carried a dead kid to the hospital. All that effort for nothing. And this other kid you mentioned. Tiny, I think. There was no such kid. You were found with only the dead kid on your back."
Nike inhaled a wet chocking breath through her nose. She hadn't realised she was crying. Hunched over, she couldn't even cover her shame with her hands with one cuffed to the bed, the other in a sling. Staring at the white cotton blanket she had over her legs, her tears fell from her face and stained it.
"You killed them, didn't you?" Qairul asked, flanking Nike on the other side.
"You murdered all those people in the Underbelly, didn't you?" Tan asked almost gently. "All you have to do is say yes. Just confess and you will feel so much better."
A light hand rested on Nike's leg but she was too lost in her own guilt.
"Girl," Qairul called out. A datapad, a different one was pushed into her hands. "Just sign this."
The words swarm in Nike's vision, clouded by tears. It mattered not one bit. She couldn't read it.
Her chest ached, bone deep and heavy, it was the same feeling when Burger died but stronger and deeper. "I tried," she whispered hoarsely. Her words all cracked and broken like the way she felt inside. All her efforts were for nought. She should have ran earlier, gone to Meg's earlier, done a million other things differently.
Everyone was gone now. She had failed so utterly and completely. Happiness didn't belong to her, forever destined to be a foreign concept. Only fools got taken in by imagines of a happy family — man, woman, and child — smiling joyfully from an advertisement. And she was the biggest one.
"What's going on here?" a voice asked. It belonged to neither Tan or Qairul.
Nike ignored it. She wanted everything to go away. But the guilt cracking her heart in two pressed against her like a million needles seeking all her weak spots. She cared and so she hurt. She thought herself the hardened warrior of the Slums, how wrong she was. She was nothing but a stupid girl with biotics, naive and reckless.
"You do not have jurisdiction here any more. Didn't you receive the notice from SPD?" the voice growled, louder this time.
The hand on her leg went away so did the dip on her bed. Tan and Qairul spoke, voices rose and fell. Her door clicked, and their voices grew muffled.
A cool hand rested on her shoulder. Easing her out of her hunched posture on the bed to lie on her back. The hand ran through her hair, snagging on the tangles. Fingers brushed against her eyes, wiping the tears away. When Nike came back to herself enough to look, she found Lexi looking back. Her grief reflected back to her in Lexi's eyes. Just like that, the flimsy paper thin wall held up by sheer will and stubbornness eroded under the pounding waves of guilt.
Nike was undone.
A wail — a wordless sound of grief — poured from her throat. She had no words to articulate — to encompass — all that she felt. The doctor wrapped her arms around Nike's shaking shoulders as best she could. Her voice murmuring softly into her hair. Despite not understanding what Lexi said, her intent was clear. Consolation for someone like her, a killer of all she held close to her heart.
I don't deserve this comfort
Qairul and Tan never returned. The omni-cuff was removed much to Lexi's delight. Nike just sat and watched. Tubes no longer tethered her to the bed. Encouraged to avail herself to the en-suite toilet and shower facilities, she started eating and exercising again.
But without Qairul and Tan to fill up her time, guilt crept in. Heavy, dark and suffocating, it choked her. Her mood changed with the weather, dark and black one moment and complete apathy the next. Red-rimmed eyes and dark rings stood stark against her face, she stared at her meal, smashing her peas with the back of her spoon. Her gut hungered for something she hated, and it ate at her.
Through it all Lexi watched on with worried eyes.
Bitter thoughts swirled inside her head too loudly to hear anything else. She was stuck. Remorse and anguish, all of them familiar friends. Waves of shame rocked what stability she had found — guilt for surviving, guilt for carrying on like nothing had happened, guilt for mourning their loss, guilt for feeling guilty. This was an endless cycle she'd never be free of. She barely found the will to pretend she was fine. Even then, she fooled nobody.
"What's for lunch today?" Nike asked as the door opened.
She had expected the lady with her food tray, instead a man entered. Short cropped black hair, dark skin and a pair of steely hard brown eyes, he strode in like he owned the place. Nike stiffened.
"Who are you?" she demanded, brow furrowing. The man reeked of authority with the blue and grey uniform he wore.
"My name is David Anderson, Commander David Anderson of the Alliance," he replied crisply. His boots striking the floor hard as he came to a stop at the foot of her bed.
She eyed the man, hand seeking for the call button. "Why are you here?"
"To offer you a choice." His voice flat as he raked his eyes over her, head to toe and back again. His gaze didn't bother her like Scars' or Tenner's did. Those brown eyes were evaluating and calculating, more akin to Frank's scrutiny. Nike forced a grin on her face she didn't feel. "A choice for chicken or fish for lunch?"
Anderson snorted and shook his head. "Do you know how much trouble you're in?"
"I've gathered. Murder charges as long as my arm. I've apparently killed everyone in the Slums. Isn't that what the investigators said?," she replied blithely. "That about right?"
He frowned, apparently her flippant manner was offensive. Well, he can go fuck himself. Just like Qairul and Tan.
"I see you have a smart mouth," he remarked, grimacing a little. His arms folded across his chest, they corded with muscles. Nike noticed a pistol strapped to his thigh was a model unfamiliar to her.
"At least I'm smart somewhere," she muttered. "Unlike the less than smart choices I've made."
Anderson rubbing his knuckles against his chin. "What the hell have I gotten myself into?" he sighed, gaze hardened as he met her eyes. "You're officially being charged with multiple counts of murder. You're looking at a lengthy trial and an even lengthier time in prison. You're what? 18? 19? That's a long time to go away for."
Nike narrowed her eyes. "Don't you care if I am actually guilty of the charges or not?"
"Normally I would, but that's not why I am here."
"Why are you here?" she growled. Irritation flared.
"Like I've mentioned, a choice," he snapped.
The command in his voice made Nike flinched. Her eyes wary as she groped instinctively for her biotics. That remained barred from her. Just because Qairul and Tan had left her alone didn't mean her situation had changed much. She still received the inhibitor. Lexi remained her only caregiver, she, the biotic freak.
Nike chewed on her tongue and waited.
"Right." He straightened as if getting ready to say something official. "Your choices are between enlisting into the Alliance for a period of no less than ten years or taking your chances with the courts here."
Enlist? The Alliance? Nike like everyone else had seen recruitment posters plastered around Midtown. The Slums had some, old, fading and peeling, no recruitment officers wanted a street rat. People had enlisted and left to fight on another planet, but they weren't people she knew personally. She had considered for herself before. Being the top dog, the Champion, she didn't need to.
Now, she was nothing, she had nothing. Worse than nothing, she was trapped.
"Let's just say I don't like your chances. You'll get out of the Alliance earlier than you would out of prison," he said. "Think about it."
Nike stared at Anderson as he placed a datapad on the bed next to her feet. "Read it or don't. Either way I need an answer in 48 hours."
As he turned to go, she made a frustrated noise at the back of her throat, a half strangled sigh. He stopped at the threshold, one foot in and the other out, his eyes swung around to look at her. Words got stuck in her throat. How could she admit she couldn't read most, if not all, of the words? How could she admit she needed her omni-tool to help her? He will think I'm stupid. He will know how fucked up I am. He will have me at his mercy just like Qairul and Tan.
Nike picked up the datapad and stared at it angrily as if she could force understanding through sheer will. Anderson left without another word. When the door next open, it was the lady with her food.
Nike winced as she put weight on her bad leg. It ached, but the painkillers dulled the worst of it. The omni-cast had been removed earlier and a new doctor made her hobble around in her room to make sure her range of movement wasn't affected. It wasn't, but lightning had replaced her bones, jolting her with every step. She stared at the two circular scars on her thigh and one near her hip. Both disappeared under layers of bandages after medi-gel was liberally coated over them. She couldn't even remember how she got them. It was probably the fight, the same blast that Alex was caught in. The doctor had mumbled something about being lucky and shotgun shots.
I don't feel lucky at all.
Step by step she made it to her room, muscles all sore and stiff from the enforced inactivity. The doctor left her to her own devices with suggestions she exercise her leg more to ease the stiffness. Then she was left alone.
Nike tried, she really did, but she was tired. Collapsing onto the bed felt like the easier choice. The datapad waited for her there. Black against white sheets, a choice. She hobbled over and held it. Eyes darting across the screen at the meaningless alphabets. It shook at how tightly she was gripping it. Fatigue was the anchor that weighed her down. Nothing really mattered anyway. Caged in a prison or by the Alliance, what difference did it make. A collar was still a collar. But… Taking a deep breath, she tucked the datapad into the sling her left arm was secured in and reached for the door handle. It swung open easily. It wasn't locked.
What the hell am I doing?
The corridor was empty. Apparently the Alliance didn't feel the need to put a guard on her. She hobbled down it. Her left arm sent faint jolts across her shoulder with every step. Room after room, all of them filled with sleeping patients, she passed without a true destination. She should have been sleeping herself but the deadline, now merely 12 hours left, pressed against her.
Am I escaping? But where to? Meg?
The thought made her stop. One hand braced against the support bar that lined the corridor, she panted, trying to catch her breath.
No. I can't. I can't bring trouble to her doorstep. She is safer without me in her life.
Pushing one foot in front of the other, she walked on. The glow of the nurses' station lit up like a beacon. Faint music and the rhythmic tap-tap-tap of fingers against the terminal drifted over. More importantly, right at the end stood the blue glow of an elevator console.
She gathered from staring out the window, she was up high. Skycars zipped by in the distance, sun reflected off the gleaming skyscrapers of Midtown, lights dotted across the sea of apartments and homes. She didn't recognise most of them. The only thing she did was the gleaming needle that stabbed the sky — the Transit Hub. It took people away from this hellhole. And she needed out.
Her feet tugged her towards the blue light of the elevator. The nurse shifted and turned the music up.
I'm not scared of the dark
I'm not running, running, running
Nike paused and pressed her body against the wall as she approached the nurses' station. Two nurses sat at their desks. Both of them conversed softly as they worked, their backs turned towards her.
No, I'm not afraid of the fall
I'm not scared, not at all
She stepped out and quickened her pace. She had no idea what exactly she wanted to do, but she knew she didn't want to be caught.
Why would a star, a star ever be afraid of the dark?
I'm not scared
It took her reaching the elevator for her bad leg to start trembling under the exertion. The ache had bloomed into pain. She turned back and looked at the way she came. It felt like doom.
I'm not scared, even from the start
I'm not scared of the dark
Of the dark, mmm
Inhale, exhale, her chest expanded slowly. She smashed her hand against the call button, and the doors opened instantly.
But it wasn't empty. Lexi stood in the middle of it. Her eyes were as wide as Nike's. There was a slight pinch across her brow and incomprehensible words poured forth. Blue hands gestured curtly at her bad leg. With a gesture, Nike felt like she floated a little off the ground. Lexi wrapped a hand around her waist and guided her back the way she came.
Lexi didn't speak when they got back. Instead, she scanned Nike's leg with her omni-tool immediately, making sure no real damage was done due to her own foolishness. When the orange light faded from her leg, Lexi sank into a chair and glared at her. Her blue lips opened and closed as if trying to gather the words to speak, but what did it matter? Nike wouldn't understand anyway.
But words did come, slow and a little hesitatingly. "Are you okay?"
Nike blinked and cocked her head, not quite believing what she just heard. When she didn't answer, a flurry of asari tumbled from Lexi's lips. Lexi cleared her throat and tried again, this time slower. "Are you okay?"
A lump formed in Nike's throat. Nobody had asked her that. Nobody bothered to. Not anyone in the Reds, not any of the Strays while they were alive. Her jaw ratcheted shut as she tried to hold herself together.
Lexi put a hand on hers and tightened over it. "Everything will be okay," she said, more confidently this time. The way she said it — calm, even and sure — it felt like there could be no other possible way this would end.
As much as Nike trusted Lexi, she wasn't stupid, How could everything be okay? She pulled the datapad from her sling and thrusted it at Lexi. "I can't read," she admitted. "I… I need the omni-tool to read it to me."
Lexi stiffened as if she had just been slapped. Anger flashed through her eyes, hardening her gaze, turning it flinty. Fear ran down Nike's spine. Did I do something wrong? But Lexi caught herself and offered Nike a smile. She took a deep breath and the anger faded somewhat. In the end, Lexi spent hours with her through the night, allowing her to read the datapad and through the omni-tool they were able to speak.
"So what's your name?" Anderson asked.
Nike had told him she wanted to enlist. And, it seemed, the first step was paperwork. Her finger hovered over the datapad she had in her hands. It held a copy of the form Anderson was going to fill for her in lieu of her injuries. Her mouth opened and closed, searching for words she couldn't find.
I am Nike of the Reds, Nike the Champion of the Ring, Nike.
But the name no longer fit. She wasn't Nike anymore. She couldn't remain as the kid who lived on the streets, the one who stole for a living, the one who picked a name because that was on her favourite poster. She wouldn't step back to the ring to fight, that part of her life was over. She wouldn't be threatening people for protection money, she wouldn't be watching movies at Meg's, she wouldn't be walking down those streets any longer.
Anderson nodded. "Good, you're learning."
He probably expected a snarky answer from her. In their scant few interactions, Nike hadn't been held back her smart mouth. The door opened and a familiar nurse entered, one of the friendlier ones. Nike had spoke to her on occasion. It was time for her bandage change. He watched with open curiosity as the nurse applied more medi-gel on her leg. There was a glint in his brown eyes as he lifted them to meet hers. He looked almost impressed.
He growled impatiently, tapping his finger against the datapad. "Girl, your name."
The nurse tidied up the opened packages she needed to dispose of. Nike remembered the nurse introducing herself as Gloria Riley a few days ago. A stack of books, the old paper kind, sat on her bedside table. They were provided to her by one of the nurses. Nike never told them she couldn't read. She used the omni-tool they left in her room to scan the spines of the books before the omni-tool was taken away. On the spine of the first book, the author's name was emblazoned in bold font and gold foil. She remembered it read Malcom Shepard.
"Shepard," she answered. "Riley Shepard."
Anderson's eyes narrowed. He knew. But it didn't matter because he didn't care. Shrugging, his fingers danced across his omni-tool and entered the name.
"Birthday?" Anderson prompted.
"What's today's date?" Nike countered.
He sighed, seemingly already tired of the entire thing. "11th April."
"Oh it's my birthday today," she exclaimed with false cheer.
Anderson rolled his eyes and deadpanned, "Happy birthday, Shepard."
He went on with his questions. Nike answered them as best she could, making up nonsense answers if it suited her. She
Nike couldn't say what the future held for her, but for better or worse, Riley Shepard was born that day.
Lyrics taken from Scared of the Dark by Lil Wayne & Ty Dolla $ign