That night, Yane came in as tired as always. They had only intercepted a few shipments today, and nothing they'd was valuable enough to keep. Mali had hot bread rolls waiting on the table, along with some fresh fruit, which was a rare commodity. He heard her humming in the back as she washed before dinner, he sighed and hung his coat. "I'm home." He said as usual, and sat down at the table, waiting. He had been thinking about what had happened earlier that morning, and intended to talk to Mali about it tonight. Behind the screen, Mali's heart skipped a beat in nervousness when she heard his voice. She came around from behind the screen, wringing her wet hair in a towel, all her heavy eye makeup removed. Yane liked her better that way.
"Hey, welcome home." She said and sat down at the table with him. They said a quick prayer before digging in, it was several minutes before either of them talked again. Yane finished first, he pushed his plate away and leaned back into the hard wood chair.
"Mail, I've never been good at beating around the bush, and I know you like things straight forward, so I'll just say it." Mali stopped chewing her food and looked up, tense. She knew what Yane was going to say, she mentally started assembling her suitcase in her head. "I am sorry for what happened earlier, it's all my fault. He stood up and cleared their plates. His eyes were sad flicked around the room, anywhere but at her face. "It won't happen again." He said.
"What won't happen again Yane? I didn't know that anything did happen." She said. He looked at her strangely.
"Did you not feel anything?" he asked.
"No." Mali lied. She kept her face even; he seemed to be on the verge of saying something, but her stone face shut him down. Yane retreated to his bed, where he worked out math problems on a sheet of paper from their textbook. They stayed like that, in awkward silence; Mali mulling over the problem.
Mali felt nervous, things were moving too fast. She knew that she liked him; he had done so for her, saved her, fed her, and now he was acting weird, but she had a hunch that he had feelings for her. But did she have them for him? She owed him that much. But love wasn't about repaying a debt, it was about true feelings for a person, did she have them for Yane?
Suddenly, they heard many angry voices. They were coming from below them and through the window that faced the street in front. Yane crept under the windowsill and peered down. Slightly moving the stained yellow curtain with one finger so he could see. Below him, many armed mercs were arguing next to the front door. They were armed to the teeth, and sporting red war paint on their faces, across their arms, and on their chests. It seemed to be an argument on leadership, but that's not what concerned him. Standing off to one side, away from the arguing men, was a man wearing a dark suit and tie, a great contrast to the mercs wearing paint and bare chests. He had a communicator clipped to his ear and seemed to be arguing with someone on the other end. Yane recognized this man as Spearo, Finnick's right hand man. "What do you see?" Mali hissed from the table.
"Spearo is down there, with a whole bunch of mercs." Yane answered.
"What?!" Mali exclaimed, "How does he know where we live?"
"I don't know!" Yane replied. He continued to watch below. Spearo finished his conversation with the earpiece and approached the two arguing mercs. He pulled out a small pistol, and with a flash of light, shot one of them point blank in the head. He holstered the weapon and gestured at the remaining merc, Yane couldn't tell what he was saying. After a brief few seconds, Spearo and half the men trotted out of sight, heading towards the back of the building, while the leader merc and the other half broke down the front door and streamed inside from the front. "Uh, Mali, we need to leave, now!"
Yane bolted from the window and headed toward his bead. "They've entered the building, and are heading up here right now!" Mali sprang into action, she grabbed a duffle bag and stuffed it full of clothes for her and Yane, and food from the kitchen, and then she pulled the credit box and stuffed it inside too. When she looked back at Yane, he had pushed his bed away and was pulling up the floorboards that had been underneath.
"What are you doing, we need to leave!" Mali demanded.
"This is where I stashed my armor. Hold on!" His head and shoulders disappeared inside the hole he had created in the floor. Mali watched the door nervously shifting from foot to foot, she thought she heard footsteps on the stairs. "Come on, Yane!" She turned, and there he stood, looking quite dashing in his armor. It was white with blue swirls all over the exterior, with an emblem of the rising sun on the chest plate. A full face helmet covered his head, obscuring his face. It was quite chipped and scratched from use, and wasn't anywhere near military grade, but it would do. Yane held out one of the two pistols he was carrying, as well as a thermal clip. Mali took them, and slid the thermal clip into her jean pocket. Yane hoisted the duffle onto his back and they ran to the door, but they hadn't been fast enough.
Mercenaries burst through their door, filling the air with deadly slugs that punched holes through the cheap plaster of the apartment's walls. Yane flipped the kitchen table down for cover and they both dove behind it. Yane set down the duffle and began returning fire; two mercs were shot dead before they knew it. "They're armed!" One shouted and they all scrambled for cover. Now Mali joined the firefight, killing one before he could find cover. Yane ducked behind their cover to avoid a shot taken at his head.
"Mali, we need to go down the hole!" He shouted. "I'll keep them under cover while you go! One-two-three! Go!"
On three Mali lunged for the hole, behind her Yane started firing into the mercs. She slipped through, landing about a foot down onto the ceiling boards of the apartment below. She quickly fired around her spinning in a 360° circle, weakening the boards around her. A merc took a shot and Mali ducked underneath it, then, with a jump, she crashed through onto the floor of the apartment underneath. It was empty. She landed on her back, hard, and the wind was knocked out of her. She coughed and rolled out of the way as Yane dove head first through the hole, landing and then rolling. He pulled her up and they ran through the door and down the stairs. "Where's the bag?" Mali wheezed as they broke through the back door and out into the alleyway. Yane pushed a small dumpster in front of the door, and they took off toward the street.
"I had to leave it behind. It wouldn't fit with me into the hole." He replied as they dashed down the street. From their apartment windows, mercs cursed wildly and took shots at them, but they were too far away to be of any danger. "I'm sorry." He apologized. Mali thought of all her earnings left in the bag. She had worked hard for those credits, but strangely, she wasn't upset, she was just glad they had made it out. They were just about to turn the corner when they heard the squeal of tires behind them. Two armored trucks had pulled in next to their apartment, and mercs were streaming out of them.
Mali's jaw dropped open. "Yane, they have cars!" She gasped, slowing down to stare behind her. Cars were only for those few who were privileged enough to be able to afford the fuel they needed. It wasn't the car that was expensive, it was the gas. So not many had them, even though they were a common sight in the city, abandoned and stripped on the side of the road. Still, they were a convenient way to travel if you could afford it, better than walking everywhere at least, which is what Mali and Yane did.
"Yes, yes. I see it. But we have to leave now!" Yane pulled on her arm, urging her faster. "They are a lot slower than hover crafts, but they can still go faster than we can run!" They ran for what seemed like hours. Twisting and turning streets and alleys at random, they quickly lost their pursuers, but at the expense of their own sense of direction. When Yane was sure they had lost them, he let them have a quick break. Mali leaned against the nearest wall, gasping for air. They had stopped in a long, narrow, alley. Mali looked up, and for the first time, realized that Yane was bleeding on his arm. The blood seeping out from the soft material underneath the armor that connected the individual plates.
"Yane, you're bleeding!" Mali exclaimed. "Let me take a look." He came over and Mali unclipped the armor off his hurt shoulder, he grit his teeth as it came off. Mali, a little embarrassed, couldn't help but notice how muscular Yane's arms were. Underneath, a small bullet hole ran deep into his shoulder and was bleeding freely. "Well, it's not life threatening right now." She said. It was much bigger than any modern day bullet wound would be, that worried her. "How did this happen" Mali asked. She ripped the bottom part of her shirt off, and gently wrapped it around his shoulder.
"While running for the hole, I guess. I haven't really noticed it." He answered as he pulled his armor back on.
"I need to dress it, or it might get infected." Mali looked around the alley. "Is there anywhere that I can take you that has medical supplies?"
"My warehouse does. I thought something like this might happen to us someday, so I prepared. But we need to know where we are. We took so many turns, I don't have a clue where we could be." He looked around for anything that might tell them where they were, but there was nothing. "We need to climb to the roof and get a higher vantage point. That way I can see the layout." He walked over to a door that was in the alleyway. It was rusted and metal, with a rectangle of glass bolted into the upper part. The glass was foggy from soot and grime, and so they were unable to see in. Yane kicked the door open, and they filed in.
The building was large, but deserted. Once upon a time this had been a very nice house, with its tapestries and carpets. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling in every room. Porcelain and glassware where everywhere. Silk doilies decorated the polished oak tables, sporting huge bouquets of flowers long dead. That was something Mali liked about the lower levels. Even though the rest of the world had moved on from pen and paper, such things could be found in this house; the lower levels still retained that sort of culture the rest of the world had forgotten. Many in the upper levels would pay to go to a museum to see and experience things that Mali used every day. "It's a miracle this place hasn't been looted." Mali expressed her surprise.
"Yes, I'll have to come back someday and do the honors myself." Yane replied. Mali shot him a look and he laughed. Gradually, they were both separated as they wandered from room to room, soaking in the glory of the place. Mali entered into a room that, in one wall, held a marble fireplace, a blackened grate sat in its middle. Soot and charcoal covered the grate and littered the floor and walls of the alcove. Above it, where old-time photographs, unmoving, and yellowed with age, these where what really caught her attention. Mali leaned in closer to get a better look.
The first, and largest, was a family portrait, most probably of the human family that lived here. There was a father, looking proud and standing to the left, of his family. The mother sat in the middle with all of her children surrounding her. She had long dark hair and was wearing a beautiful white dress. There was two sons and a daughter, all regal and proud. The next photograph was of just the mother and daughter, it was a lot less unofficial, they could've been at a park with the trees and grass. The photo was obviously taken a while before the family photo, because both the mother and daughter were younger looking. The mother was bending down, with her chin resting on the daughters head, her arms wrapped around the shoulders of the girl, while the daughter, obviously unhappy about the picture, turned her face away from the camera. But whoever took the picture still got half her face, and in it, Mali can see happiness.
A pang of longing raked in Mali's gut as she stared at this picture, twisting her insides. She'd never had a mother, the closest she'd ever had was Mrs. McCruley, who had raised her in the orphanage. But motherhood couldn't be like that, the evidence was in the loving eyes of the mother and daughter as they get their picture taken. There had been no love like that with Mrs. McCruley, the only love she had ever gotten from her were now scars on her skin.
"Somali, where are you?" Yane hissed from another room. Mali had almost forgotten why they were here.
"I'm over here." She answered. After a few moments, he popped his blonde head around the corner.
"I've found a staircase that is safe enough to climb. Let's go." He beckoned. The staircase was broad and elegant, matching the austere of the rest of the place. It was made of polished cedar, giving it a rich, warm glow, even years later. It swooped gracefully up to the second level, and then doubled back leading to the third, and so forth until its majesty was lost in the gloom above. As they started up, Mali traced her hand along the banister. A thick layer of dust lay on it, and coated her hand. But underneath, if she peered close enough, she swore the wood sparkled.
They were going on the third level when Mali decided to bring up a question that had been bothering her since this whole thing began. "Yane?"
"Yes?"
"What did you steal, that is making all these men come after us?" Mali watched his back as he climbed the stairs ahead of her. Under the armor his shoulders tensed, and his hand gripped the banister as they continued to climb. A long silence ensued as he debated what to say.
"I might as well tell you the whole story, you do have a right to know. But you must promise not to interrupt until I'm done." Mali went to open her mouth, but Yane held up one armored finger in silence. "Don't interrupt." She opened her mouth, then settled for crossing her arms instead, and huffed. "It was about three hours after I left for work this morning. We came upon a signal broadcast coming from a merchant toward the docking bay. We couldn't hack into all of it but we heard: "The valuable cargo…must guarantee smooth transactions…9:00…They'll have my neck if I don't." What interested us was that it wasn't on any of the open broadcasted stations, someone was taking great pains to set up a broadcast so that they could get the cargo in unnoticed and unscreened by docking security."
"So of course we had to check it out. We hijacked the incoming shuttle before it reached the bays, and flew it to a quiet corner of the city, where we could split the booty. When we opened the cargo doors, the usual packing containers tumbled out, which was odd, considering that this stuff was supposed to be valuable. There were about twenty-three boxes. We thought that there would be jewelry, or diamonds, or tech parts inside, but when we opened them up, inside, was silverware. Bent, broken, dirty, rusted over silverware."
Mali exploded, she didn't mean to, but it just spilled out of her, there was nothing that she could have done to stop it. "Do you mean to say, that we are running for our LIVES, because of some stupid spoons and forks?!"
"Don't forget the butter knives." Yane added weakly. Mali rushed him, punching him in the stomach, hard. Then she plunked down on the step in front of her, seething. "I guess I deserved that." Yane said, rubbing his tummy and sitting next to her. "The other guys didn't know what to do with it, so I offered to just take it all. I didn't want to waste a good run. I thought someone might want to buy them, but I never counted on Finnick making an offer. I took the shuttle and loaded the cutlery into my warehouse, than dumped the shuttle in an abandoned lot."
"Why would Finnick want some spoons?" Mali asked.
"If I knew that answer, I'd tell you." He replied. "Listen Mali, I'm sorry, I di-," A murmur made its way up the stairs, Mali clamped her hand onto Yane's mouth.
"Shhhhh! I think I hear voices." She whispered. They both sat still, ears straining for the faintest sound, and sure enough, gruff voices were coming their way.
"It's the mercs, run!" Yane cried, and they dashed up the remaining flights. At the top of the stairs was a corridor with doors leading off into what looked like bedrooms. Outside the windows, they saw that the evening light was fading fast. They ran to the farthest and biggest room, straight down the hall. Inside was a humongous four poster bed with a long canopy hanging underneath. Dressers and a vanity mirror adorned the room as well. Sliding glass doors led onto a balcony. Behind them, they could hear the mercs yelling for their blood. "Quick, outside. We can climb to the roof from the balcony."
"How'd they find us?" Mali shouted, as they tried to pry open the glass doors.
"I don't know!" Yane answered. They tugged and pulled but it was no use. "Stand back, Mali." Mali backed away from the doors and Yane shot the glass with his pistol, shattering it into a million pieces. "Alright, out we go." Mali gingerly stepped out onto the old, worn balcony, cautious. She took one step, and then, slowly, another.
"You can never be to-," she started to explain to Yane as she moved forward.
"Oh come on, we don't have time for this." Yane sped from behind, pulling her along with him. "If we die, we die." He said. Balancing on the wobbly railing, Yane grabbed onto the roof ledge that was at his shoulder height, his back facing a big drop down to the street below. He pulled himself up and over the ledge, than motioned for Mali. "Come on!" He encouraged. Mali approached the railing, her stomach in turmoil. If it was one thing Mali was afraid of, it was heights.
Gingerly she swung out onto the other side of the railing, one false slip and she would tumble to a terrible death. Ever so slowly she reached for the ledge's edge and pulled first one leg up, and then the other. She peered down through her legs at the street below. They must be four stories up, five? Mali gulped, and her head felt dizzy. Suddenly she heard a howl of triumph from inside the building. Mercs were streaming up the stairs and were sprinting down the corridor headed straight for her. She looked up at where Yane was leaning out over the ledge. "Come on, their coming!"
She looked back at the mercs, than back at Yane, than down at the street below. She couldn't decide whether to drop down and face the mercs or continue with the plan. It was such a long way to fall. The mercs answered her dilemma. One fired a shot, taking aim at her. It was poorly aimed, and Mali could see that it would pass beneath her. But what she didn't count on was that it would slice through the main support for the railing and the railing collapsing beneath her.
Mali was suspended in freefall for one, blissful, terrifying moment. And then Yane's hand clamed onto Mali's wrist and heaved her up and over the side of the ledge, onto the roof. She lay there, on her back gasping, beneath them the mercs were just entering the balcony. Yane heaved her to her feet, and they started running across the roof top, the mercs vainly firing shots at them through the roof. As they approached the edge of the roof, Mali began to slow to a stop, but Yane pulled her forward. "JUMP!" he yelled, and threw himself over the edge, landing on the roof across. Mali stepped off, and slightly more graceful, crossed the several yard gap and landed as well.
The buildings of the lower levels were so close together, that Yane and Mali continued this for a while, gaining good time on their newfound shortcut. After a while they stopped for a breather. "Why did you freeze back there?" Yane asked.
"I-I was scared of falling, I just froze. I hate heights Yane." She answered.
"For a moment there, I thought you were contemplating weather or not it was easier to take down that pack of mercs single handedly instead of climbing up onto the roof." He teased. But then he saw he expression. "Were you?" he asked, surprised. Mali punched him on his arm, but then smiled.
"Leave it in the past Yane, leave it in the past." She said. They raced along again, about fifteen minutes later, Yane called a stop.
"I know where we are." He said. "My warehouse is twenty minutes of good running straight that way." Yane pointed in a westerly direction. It's marked with a big star on the front."
It was now nighttime, darkness encompassed their path. They set off in that direction and were about to cross to another roof when sudden heat and a deep reverberation filled the air, an unmistakable sound. "Hover cruiser!" Mali yelled and they both dove for cover behind a generator on the roof. The sleek ship pulled up from behind a building, headlights glaring into Yane's and Mali's faces. It landed on the flat roof, and two armed guards stepped out, dressed in army fatigues with yellow war paint on, as was custom in the lower levels. From the cockpit, Spearo clamored out, and opened the side door. None but Finnick himself stepped out of the vehicle, onto the roof, sporting an all-white suit and tie, his dark hair and eyes a stark contrast. One of the guards roughly pulled a young man out and threw him down in front of Finnick.
"Yane, Mali." He addressed the metal hunk with his slithering words. "I'd like to introduce you to my good friend." He motioned to the guard, the guard picked the man up to his knees, facing them. "I believe he was a coworker of Yane's, part of his gang? Does a Mister Cane ring a bell?" From behind the generator, Yane locked eye's with Mali, anger burned inside. "He thought to double cross you, Yane. He came to me, offering your address in exchange for credits and a one way trip to the terraces'!" Finnick roared.
"What do you want, Finnick?" Yane shouted from behind the shed.
"The silverware, for his life." After a pause he added, "And don't think you can run, Yane, We've been tracking you with a transmitter this whole time. How's your arm doing these days?" He smirked. Yane peered between a crack in the generator, and looked at Cane, who was watching them. In his eyes, Yane saw all the greed and jealousy that he had known was somewhere inside. Cane had always been jealous of Yane, for his skills and easy manner with the rest of the crew. Yane knew without a doubt that Finnick was telling the truth, Cane had betrayed them. And in that moment, he made a cold decision.
He turned to Mali, who was crouching beside him. "Mali, we don't have much time. Here, take this." He reached into his jean pocket, and handed her his warehouse key along a circular disk about the size of a large button. It was made of a see-through material and was as smooth as glass. Thin grayish-blue concentric circles ran from the middle to the outside. He handed both to her.
"I'm waiting." Finnick called.
"Why are you giving me this?" She asked
"There is no time to explain. Touch the middle circle and you will turn invisible. Run to the warehouse, and be safe. I have one too, I'm going to grab Cane and go, we'll rendezvous there. He locked gazes with her eyes. "I know you may not want to hear this from me, but I love you Somali." He said, and then he swiftly leaned in and kissed her. As swiftly as it had come, it was gone, and Yane ducked from underneath their cover. He turned and looked at her. "Don't look back." He said, "Now run!" Mali touched the smooth middle and her body diapered from view. She was in a daze, his kiss burning on her lips, he loved her? She got up, ignoring the urge to crouch. Yane was approaching the men, his hands, and pistol, held in the air. "Alright, alright. Let's make this deal quick, the key and directions for Cane." Mali quickly ran and jumped the gap to the other roof. Yane stalled for as long as he was able, giving Mali as much time as he could. Mali raced away, but as she ran something made her turn back for one last look.
Yane swiftly brought his hands from the air, and shot the two guards that were holding Cane in the head, they crumpled like paper. He shifted, and shot Spearo in the leg, making him collapse, and groan with pain. Finnick hauled Cane up, as a body shield, and picked up Spearo's pistol. Yane shot at Finnick, but hit Cane instead. He ducked for cover but wasn't fast enough, Finnick shot him in the leg. Yane went down with a thud, his pistol skidding out of his hands. Finnick threw Cane's corpse to one side and advanced on Yane, who had painfully gotten back on his one good leg, holding the other with his hands. Finnick slowly forced the hobbling Yane to the edge of the roof. Why hadn't he used his cloak? Mali thought. Below him, swift water from a canal churned beneath him. She saw all this from a distance, her heart beating loudly in her chest.
Suddenly it hit her. Yane had no cloak. He had given it to her to secure her safety, to make her believe in his false plan. This had been his true plan all along, to sacrifice his life for her, he didn't care a quig whether Cane lived or died, he had done this for her, and only her. Finnick was motioning with his pistol, obviously saying something. Yane shook his head and spat on the ground in front of Finnick, hatred in his eyes. And as she watched with horror, Finnick aimed the barrel of the pistol at Yane's chest, and pumped him full of lead. With each bullet, Yane was rocked back by the force, until he was on the very edge of the roof. With one last shot, Finnick pushed him over the side. An inhuman scream tore from Mali's throat, her eyes clouded with tears. Mali started running back, intent on killing Finnick.
Finnick checked behind the generator, then walked back to his hover car, pulling the wounded Spearo with him. He dragged him in, and then piloted the craft off the roof and toward the sky. By the time that she reached the roof, Finnick had already pulled into the sky. She fired her pistol at him anyway, even though she knew the bullets would never reach him. When he had disappeared from sight she tottered over to the spot that Yane had fell over. His blood covered the ground from his wounds. She knelt down by the spot, and mourned. He had loved her, and given his life for her. "Yane, how could you leave me?" She sobbed. Where her heart had been was now a black hole of misery, sucking everything else inside of her into itself. All her love, all her happiness, until all that was left was the burning hatred for Finnick. Mali caved in on herself as the pain of the moment consumed her. Tears rolled down her cheeks, in a never ending flood.
Why couldn't she have said it? She thought. Why couldn't she say she loved him? Now he was dead, and could never hear her say it. It was all her fault Yane was dead. She was the one that had pissed off Finnick, and made him come after them. A thousand images of Yane came streaming into her eyes, making her sob harder. Yane, proudly smiling as she won her first match. Yane, holding out a homemade cake, telling her to blow out the candles. It went on like this forever, with each image the pain grew inside until the only thing left inside was her labored heartbeat, frantic and fast. Mali turned her tearstained cheeks to the heavens, her face twisted in utter torture. "I swear, by Yane's death, that I will kill that bastard." Somali uttered, her voice dark and angry. "I swear."
Hours later, Mali was driven from her vigil to the warehouse by the basic needs of her body. She gathered up the guns of Finnick's dead guards and picked up Yane's pistol as well. Then, clouded with fierce grief, she tottered away into the night.