Prodigal Heights, a bustling locale nestled on the southside of Skid Row, or as it was formerly known in the early 2000s, the city of Orleans. Still proudly standing amidst the towering skyscrapers, and whizzing transports overhead, was the bronze statue of Jeanne d'Arc with flag in hand raised high. The Magna Rail whirred over the tracks built high off the ground, winding through a maze of buildings as land vehicle horns blared from the streets below. Chain stores, mixed in with boarded-up, out-of-business shops, lined them with people coming and going at their leisure.

Located miles from the traffic jam, where Léon and Joliet's car was stopped in the blazing heat, was Le Serpent Rouge Arena. There were screens with advertisements along the walls, text scrolling from left to right, reading: Combats en cage chaque Vendredi soir! Ne manquez pas votre chance temoigner robots en action! Other screens gladly advertised it along the buildings in Joliet's periphery, to which she glanced at out of sheer boredom, reading them aloud to herself. Léon looked over, hearing her mumbling something under her breath.

"Cage fights every Friday night." she recited. "Don't miss your chance to witness… robots in action?! What, androids here contend with each other? To serve what purpose?"

Léon sneered at the advertisement, his hate boiling in the pit of his being as he averted his eyes back to the halted vehicles in front of him. He never spoke of the arena, nor the grievous trauma it caused him to anyone; he most certainly wasn't going to talk about it now, not with so much already bearing on his mind. "Don't worry about it." he stated sullenly. "Place should be blown sky high with a fuckload of C4 if you ask me."

"I should say so," she agreed, crossing her arms, "the blatant Frankenstein Complex running rampant out here is astounding! From what I understand, these A.I. are being exploited for the sake of human entertainment. It's utterly revolting! You'd think after 200 years people would be more progressive, but nooo! Sentism is clearly alive and well, just as it was during the Great Divide." She glanced his way, expecting him to slam her with a rebuttal. Léon, however, said nothing in response. His mind was glued to two things: Roxette, and the horrible memories the owner of the arena created for him."

"Well?"

Léon snapped out of his trance. "Huh? Well, what?"

"Didn't you even hear what I said?"

"I wasn't listening."

Joliet let out an annoyed growl. "I can't wait until we part ways."

"Pfft. Feelings are mutual."

"Hmph! You know what?! I was considering repeating myself, but forget it! It's no use trying to converse with someone as dense as you. I'm done speaking the rest of the way."

"Damn, you're the most annoying bot I've ever met! Just what the hell is it you want from me?!"

"First of all, stop calling me that word. Second, it's incredibly rude to ignore someone when they're speaking to you. Especially if that someone happens to be the princess of France."

Léon groaned. "Not this shit again…" He blared the car horn at the vehicle in front of them. "Allez!" he yelled, making Joliet flinch. "Tout le monde bouge! C'est quoi ton problème! Connard..."

"Third," she resumed, seeming unfazed by his tantrum, "you've treated me with nothing but animosity since we first met. As France's only heir, I highly advise you to stop what you're doing immediately, and reconsider your substandard choices, lest you be in for a world of pain."

A world of what? Léon snorted at that remark, a wry smile forming on his face. "Yeah, okay. And what exactly are you gonna do if I don't, huh? Run and tell your manufacturer that some lower life-form from Skid Row insulted you?"

"Worse!" her voice raised. "I'll… umm…" Watching her worried eyes immediately jump to determination, as she poorly raised her fists at him, only fueled his amusement more. "With the punishment I've got in mind, I won't have to run and tell my father anything. I'll knock your head clean off your shoulders myself!"

Léon stared, disbelieving. "You will…"

"That's right. So, if you're smart, you'll do as I humbly request. Or else."

The way she seemed so sure of herself, in the presence of a seasoned fighter no less, struck him with humor he couldn't suppress if he tried. He rolled his eyes and laughed quietly, leaning his brow against his knuckles as he propped his elbow by the window.

Joliet scoffed. "Laugh all you want! I will take the proper course of action without so much as a second thought about your well-being, so try me!"

That only made him laugh harder. Once he gained control of himself, he turned in his seat to face her with one arm propped over the steering panel. "Alright. Go for it."

"W-what?"

"Hit me," he daringly pointed to his right cheekbone, "right here. As hard as you can."

Their eyes locked and silence filled the car. Léon anticipated very little in terms of Joliet taking the first jab. From what he surmised of her thus far, she wasn't the type to get into a brawl, much less start one — too prissy. Judging by the way her hands were lowered, and the look of uncertainty in her eyes, it was all too clear — she wasn't going to do shit.

"Ha." Léon started paying attention to the traffic. "That's what I thought."

Annoyed, she huffed and turned towards the passenger door with her arms crossed, stewing as she gazed out the window with furrowed brows. A single thought crossed Léon's mind as he continued driving: he could give her solid fighting advice, but Joliet was an A.I., which meant she was unpredictable. The information he shared could affect how she would in turn use it. He'd been through enough already; it wasn't like he needed to teach an android how to fight only for it to retaliate. Or, at least he thought that's how positronic brains functioned. Either way, he wasn't taking any chances.

"If I wanted to," she said, "I could have."

If you wanted to. Ha. "You ever been in a fight before?"

"Well, certainly. I've used Avantasia on trespassers many times."

"Nononono, not like that. I'm talking about a knock-out, drag-out fight. Busted knuckles, bloodied lip, broken bones. That kind of shit."

Joliet arched a brow. "Can't say that I have… why, have you?"

"Oh yeah," Léon answered, "more than I can count on my hands and feet. And Tenmei's hands and feet."

Joliet rolled her eyes. "Oh, wonderful. Not only are you a sentist moron, but a barbarian. Is that supposed to impress me or something?"

Léon shot her a brief look of contempt before averting his gaze back to the road. "Are you just going to insult me every time I talk to you?"

"Funny, I could ask you the same question."

He had to admit, she had a point. "Touché."

With the thoughts of the arena master pushed aside, all he could think about was Roxette. How had she been since last he'd seen her? She was probably still working as a server at the Trinidad Nightclub, same as the last time. He recalled the time before she became a waitress and worked as an exotic dancer. He'd wandered in after winning a street fight; how enervated he felt as he trudged wearily through the front doors and up to the bar. Léon was twenty-two at the time. He was alone, battered and bruised, and celebrating his victory with a bottle of bourbon in hand. He remembered that the A.I. tending the bar was even more robotic in personality than AL, and less experienced.

Having to repeat his request without the droid interrupting him with suggestions was all the more irritating, and did very little to rid him of his disdain for them. Damned things. Within mere minutes of sitting there and sipping on his drink, a lilty voice cooing a greeting beside him tore his attention from the pain aching in his muscles. Lying her ear over her crossed forearms on the bar, the young woman smiled at him.

"Hi there, Neuromancer."

Just after sipping his drink, he paused, turning his attention to her.

She appeared to him like an angel in a lucid dream. The top of her hair styled like horns, sitting over her short, bouncy, bleach-blonde curls. The tips of her updo, as well as the curled bangs dangling over her left eye, were sky blue, matching the shade of her lipstick. Lime green half-hearts were loosely laced in the front, its metallic strings looping over her shoulders and around her back. Accompanying this was a black pleated mini skirt that showed off every inch of her thighs. As Léon's view traversed her scantily clad figure, he choked on his bourbon, sending him into a coughing fit.

The young woman shot up from her seat, patting him across the back. "JC, are you okay?!"

Hack

Cough

"Roxette?!" his raspy voice cried. "What're you doing in a place like this?! Dressed like that?!" Not that he minded, of course.

Roxette combed stray curls back behind her ear and smiled. "I work here."

"Oh!" His eyes wandered to her ample bosom. "I, um," Gulp. "I-I didn't know that…"

"It's so great to see you! It's been, what, two years? How are you doing?"

With his gaze still affixed to her breasts, he replied, "Oh, I'm doing pretty big." Realization of what he just said made him jolt. "Err, p-pretty good! I'm doing pretty good!" God, he sounded like such an idiot. He clapped a hand to his forehead and groaned at himself. "Gros con! Pourquoi tu dis ça?!"

Roxette slipped her fingers up to her lips and giggled behind them. "Dork. So, where you working these days?"

Léon answered her, his hand masking the flaming heat of embarrassment that was turning his face red. "Uhh, nowhere. That is, I mean…! I do work, just not anywhere you know about yet." He grimaced, spinning in his chair to look at her, whilst waving his hands. "Or, wait! No! It's nothing bad! Um…!"

Roxette tilted her head.

"I w-work in the, uh, down there. Underground.

"...I don't get it."

Dammit! Nothing he was saying made any sense! Revealing he was a gangster to Roxette made him worry that if he revealed too much, she may never give him a chance. Or worse: never see him exactly the same way again, nor speak to him. "How do I put this… I do jobs for a guy, an old guy. Well, I mean, he's not that old, but he's older than me." There was a short pause between them that lasted a brief moment. "And… maybe even street brawl a little bit…?" Léon smiled anxiously at her.

"Oh! So, like getting paid under the table."

"Yeah!" He rubbed the back of his neck, darting his eyes in another direction. "Exactly."

Roxette frowned. "But… you're back fighting again. JC, I don't know what it is, but I can't help but worry about you."

Léon's face flushed.

"Ever since the night you and Ramone got into a huge fight, I find myself up late every night, wondering if you're okay — hoping and praying he hasn't beaten you to death…"

Wait, she's been worried about me? "Awww, hey, that was years ago. You don't have to worry about me. I can handle myself. Ramone can't fight for shit anyway. He thinks he's tough when he's beating on people weaker than him, but when it comes down to strategy, that fucker's just plain stupid."

"I'm not just talking about Ramone." she blurted out, taking a hold of his hand. Léon looked at her. "I'm talking about all of your fights. I understand why you do it, but what if one day you walk into one, and you don't walk out?" Her chest heaved as tears formed in her eyes. "I don't think I could go on living if anything happens to you."

"Roxy…"

She wiped her eye with her palm. "You're my best friend. You'll always be my best friend. Listen, if you ever need anything — or if you need money — you know where to find me."

Léon shook his head, faintly smiling at her. "Roxette, I can't take money from —"

"I want you to! Please. If it keeps you out of harm's way, I'll give you however much you need, whenever you need it. I don't care, I'll do whatever it takes if it means seeing you safe and happy."

As if his heart wasn't already bursting at the seams for her, seeing how much she cared unleashed a flood of familiar feelings that overflowed, like a dam being blown to smithereens. It never failed. Every time they'd meet, those same feelings came full-force. In his naïvete, Léon gave in to the high of infatuation still climbing in his psyche. The feeling was simply too good to rebuke, as he had tried to do many times before. This time things would be different, he believed. Could this be it? Could their reunion soon lead to something more than friendship? If this was the time, then he welcomed it with open arms and an equally open mind.

Fully reciprocating Roxette's grasp around his hand, his fingers wrapped around hers, and he smiled at her warmly with nothing but the purest love behind his eyes. "Roxy, there's something about you."

"There is? It's not something bad, is it?"

He chuckled. "No. It's like… every time we talk like this… ah, nevermind. It's stupid."

"No, not at all!" her chipper demeanor startled him. "Whatever it is, I'm sure it's meaningful!"

Ha! You have noooo idea. Léon smiled. "I was just gonna say that… um… h-hey! How about we do something — just the two of us — when you get off. Err, that is if you want to. It's alright if not, though."

Roxette's wide-open smile grew big as she breathed in, full of excitement. "Ooh, I'd love that! We can play Neuromancer just like the good ole days, and lay waste to every low-level on the server!"

Léon grinned from ear to ear, his inner child exploding from the depths of his soul. "Yeah! My dude can reach up their assholes, into their brains, and pull them inside-out! It'll be epic as fuck!"

Roxette snorted at his remark before her voice raised in uproarious laughter, getting the attention of the other bar-goers. "You're so violent. But… I don't get off until 7."

Léon blinked. "Oh. Well, in that case, I'll hang around until then."

"What?! JC, it's only ten-thirty! You'd really wait that many hours?!"

A warmth in Léon's chest expanded. "For you, I'd wait an eternity."

In her stunned silence, Roxette gazed into his eyes, finding sincerity in his words. Léon only partially regretted what he said due to it being so forward, and worried that her reaction would be something that warranted a soft rejection. Not that he blamed her, they'd only just spoken for the first time in two years.

Léon had been with many girls, but nothing he felt for them compared to what he felt talking to Roxette. And he believed nothing ever would.

For the nine hours he promised to wait, he'd loitered around in the alleyway, walked the catwalks high off of the city floor, hung around the train station, and checked out the Rocket Ride Arcade not too far from the club. If he had to pick between When In Rome and Rocket Ride, he'd gladly say Rocket Ride without hesitation. Unlike WIR, RR had a special area for gamers that weren't into holographic simulations. WIR was created to be geared for these types of individuals specifically. Tenmei fell into that category seamlessly, though he was open to all forms of gaming.

As 6:37 a.m. rolled around, the expanse above him was beginning to light up in a faint lilac. Léon made it safely back to Trinidad, and awaited Roxette's exit patiently; weariness weighed on his eyelids, but he fought it with every ounce of his being. He wanted to give her a good time, and he'd do so at the expense of how sleepy he felt. The door opened minutes later, and his head snapped up in hopes that it would be her. To his dismay, it was just a drunk staggering out of the club, rambling incoherent nonsense.

"Whaatayaaouu lookan aaat… ain't gawwt," hic, "naooo monaayyy, ya..." hiccc! A sleepiness glazed over his eyes, and soon the man stumbled, falling to the ground.

Léon eyed him with a raised brow all the way to the concrete. Then it happened. The doors opened and a group of girls stepped outside, laughing at whatever their conversation was about. In the middle of them, Roxette was all aglow, laughing with them. The blue jacket she was wearing practically swallowed her whole, draping down to her knees.

"Can you believe he said that?" one of the girls asked, stifling a laugh behind her palm.

One of Roxette's other friends chimed in, "I know, right? Men are goofy." In that moment, another girl caught a glimpse of Léon sitting on his motorcycle, cultivating a little discomfort in him. He turned his gaze elsewhere.

"Oooh, Roxy, is that him?!" her friend queried in a high-pitched voice, grabbing her shoulder. "God, he's so handsome…"

The group giggled, whispering back and forth like teens at a sleepover. Roxette left their circle and gave him a meek wave with the toe of her green heel pointed inward. "Hi."

"Hey." He fished a lighter out of his jacket pocket, flicked it open, and lit a cigarette.

"You really waited for me? All this time?"

Léon took a drag on his cigarette, exhaled plumes of smoke, and said, "Yeah, and I'd do it again."

Loud ooooohs of encouragement behind Roxette increased in pitch, making both her face and Léon's go beet red. As the girls walked off down the street, their heels clicking on the pavement, one of them called back, "Have fun, you two! Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"

"Yeah, like get drunk and try to shove a taco up your nose."

"Aw, step off. That was one time!"

Roxette cupped her hands at the sides of her mouth, amplifying her shout. "Don't worry, we won't! Byyyye!"

"See ya, lovebirds!" they replied in unison, their giggling growing distant. To that, Roxette rolled her eyes, laughed under her breath, and shook her head.

"Sorry about them, they're always like that."

Léon chuffed softly, an exhalation of smoke billowing from his nostrils. "It's alright. Doesn't bother me."

Warm smiles painted their faces as they gazed at one another, the rays of the hot pink sun glowing between them as it rose over the hill of the road. The bright, neon signs along the cityscape flickered off, one after another, signifying that the nocturnal life of Paris was soon to be at rest. God, she looked beautiful. Especially while standing in dawn's light.

"Soooo…" she said, leaning forward with her hands behind her back, "what do you wanna do now?"

Léon gathered a pool of saliva around his tongue, extinguished the cigarette on it, then tossed it on the ground. "Hop on. There's something I want to show you."

"Really? Oooh, what is it?"

"You'll see, just get on."

Roxette gave him a playful salute, followed by a wink. "Aye-aye, captain!" With that, she launched herself on the motorcycle enthusiastically, and wrapped her arms around Léon's waist, bringing a deepened red hue to his cheeks. "What're we waitin' for?! Let's riiiide!"

She was so damn cute to him. Well, if it was enjoyment she wanted, he was bound to deliver on that front. He revved the throttle, the roar echoing in the vicinity, until the engine fell to a soft purr.

"Wooohooohooo! Yeah!" She leaned her chin towards his shoulder, her excitement outshining the steadily rising sun. "Make it go fast!"

Léon chuckled. "Fast, huh?"

"Yeah! I want to go super fast — make me feel the wind slap me across the face!"

He smirked. "Alright, you asked for it. Hang on, sweetheart."

Gently easing on the clutch, and twisting the throttle, his bike pulled off slow and steady, climbing to higher speeds as he gently pulled the clutch. Léon manually shifted gears with his foot as he drove forward, the force of the wind in their hair grew stronger until it was practically beating them. Roxette's cheers echoed through the streets as trash caught in the wind speed of the bike passing blew aside.

"Do a powerslide!" she cried.

"A what?! No way! You'll get hurt."

"Pleeeeeease? Just this one time?"

"Roxy, there's no way I'm trying that. I'm not a pro at this stuff."

"For me?" she made a pouty face, followed by a giggle.

Léon smiled. "Tell you what: one day I promise that I'll try my best to do a powerslide for you. Good enough?"

"Aww, alright, deal! But you gotta pinky promise, okay?"

He laughed. "Come on, when have I ever broken a promise to you?"

Playfully twisting the throttle with a mischievous grin on his face, he revved the bike and gained speed. Roxette yelped. Countersteering the front tire, Léon weaved through what little traffic was there. As more and more cars began to fill the streets along the course of their joyride, Léon thought it best to take a detour.

The route he planned to take was one he'd taken many times on a trip to clear his mind. Usually he did this as a way to escape his disastrous home life and blow off steam. Though to say it was a trip he'd taken to dream of confessing his love to Roxette wasn't too far off the mark either. In fact, more often than not, the destination he sought out was a peculiar one; a place people passed through everyday, but in the midst of being surrounded by cars whooshing by, Léon could still find solace within himself. Besides, going at such a high rate of speed, who would disturb his thoughts? If anything, the thrum of traffic was soothing.

It was there he didn't have to worry about stumbling into any ne'er-do-wells or the occasional asshole with a stick up their ass. But even in such a calming place as this, he had to be careful. Not because Motorhead traversed the highway over Prodigal Heights, but because the dismantlists known as Hell Patrol did, and he was no stranger to them.

Crossing the intersection, and onto an elevated highway, they passed a road sign that read: L'autoroute Bleu. Below it was the Loire river. The highway's exits branched off in several locations: the first taking people towards Motorhead territory in the west. The next one many kilometers out would lead in the direction of the neighboring town, Ville de Fleur. A location that was far from what the flowery name implied. If Léon could compare it to anything, he'd say it was a spitting image of his own neighborhood, La Lande. A gang-ridden wasteland rife with drug labs, and god knows what else.

Skyscrapers towered over the road on both sides of the river, slivers of the morning sky barely peeking through their cramped spaces. Straight in front of Léon were roads weaving through the urban cityscape. As he turned left onto Blue Highway, the sunlight glinted like fire on the motorcycle's metallic red chassis, emphasizing the gold flames painted along the body. Roxette's jacket fluttered in the wind; her smile beamed as warmly as the sun rising in the distance.

The only thought demanding Léon's attention was how weightless his heart felt having Roxette with him. That feeling exploded as she leaned her smiling face against the back of his shoulder, her locked arms around his waist gingerly giving him an affectionate squeeze. Soon, his inner voice echoed, all this yearning for her will be over. God, I can't fuck this up.

Beneath Blue Highway, transports hummed through an underpass where a narrow passage met the catwalks rising high off the city floor. Léon had arrived subsequent to taking an exit and down one of the dark tunnels formerly intended to be used by pedestrians. Of course he wasn't going to leave his bike parked out in the open several meters away without his keen-eyed supervision. One of his biggest fears would be that some dickhead came along and stole it without his knowledge, leaving him stranded. Not that he couldn't find a way home just fine on his own, but the fact that someone dared lay their greasy hands on it in the first place would undoubtedly elicit his wrath.

Pulling into a tunnel and up to a dark, gated passage, Roxette hopped off the bike and looked up at a sign with bold, red letters attached to large chains around the metal bars. Accès interdite!

"Umm… JC? It says it's off limits."

"Yeah?" He said it as though it didn't matter. The skin of his fingertip morphed, creating a long, thin prong made of brick. He made certain to stand directly in front of the padlock in order to obscure what he was doing from Roxette's line of view. Tilting her head to the side, she scrunched her nose.

"What're you doing?"

"Hold on, you'll see." The padlock sprang loose, and the chains fell to the pavement with a heavy kachink. A whiny, metallic creak echoed off of the dark tunnel walls as he pushed the gate open and extended a hand to Roxette, who couldn't look more reluctant if she'd tried. "Come on." he said, giving her a reassuring smile.

"I don't think we should be doing this. The prefects could catch us."

"Aw, don't worry about them. I'll seal it back up the way it was before we came, it'll be fine. Besides, they have better things to do than patrol this shithole."

Swallowing what she could of her uncertainty, Roxette reached for his hand and followed him into the darkness, the only notable sounds around them at the start of their venture being the reverb of their shoes when they walked. Soon, the deafening ringing of his ears drowned out the distant echoes of water dripping into stray puddles beneath the highway. Both the muffled humming of vehicles passing above their heads, and outside the walls, were the only thing that carried over that.

Feeling Roxette's nails dig into the sleeve of his jacket as she clung worryingly to his arm made him ponder, What if I'm taking this too far? Maybe she's not ready for this yet. I mean, we only just reconnected. Dammit, calm the fuck down, it's okay. You're just going to talk. That's all. Just relax before you ruin everything, you idiot.

Then again, it wasn't like the place he was taking her to screamed romance anyway. What if I'm jumping the gun here… what if she thinks I'm some kind of morbid weirdo for bringing her here? Aww, shit. It's too late to reconsider this now. I can't turn back, not when I'm this close to her. God, I'm overthinking this shit! Dumbass brain, shut up!

Each step felt like torture. Thoughts in his head were like a vice squeezing him to death under the weight of stress. What if this didn't work out? What if allowing his emotions to take the wheel and control his actions was in fact another one of those shitty choices he'd made? Guess he could fling that one into the pile of cringey reminders, then. Léon's heartbeat pounded in his ears. Radiant, creamy yellow beams shined through an opening up ahead, shedding the only light in that dank, dark tunnel. A mixture of excitement and turmoil churned in his core. Knowing Roxette, she'd enjoy the pleasant view, but the lore of it maybe not so much.

Well, this was it. Would she be put off by this, or revel in the moment with him?

Stepping out onto the metal catwalk, the stellar view of vulcan grey buildings stole their view. Between them were horizontal escalators built inside of halls constructed of mainly glass and steel. The tops of the buildings towered out of sight and over the highway. To Léon's left, sunlight poured across the cityscape, coating the skyscrapers across from him in a brilliant shade of pastel gold. The landing platforms for flying vehicles stood out amidst the sunlight and the zooming traffic of transports. Roxette's jaw dropped. Léon couldn't tell if she was floored by the beauty around her or horrified as she took a few more steps towards the rickety, broken railing.

Before he could say anything, the abrupt show of awe cleared any doubts. Roxette spun on her heel then, her closed hands drawn up to her chin as she squealed, "Eeeee! This is so mega! Gahhh, it's like you can see everything!" Grabbing the damaged railing, she leaned forward, causing a tiny creak to alert Léon's senses. Without hesitation, he wrapped one arm around her waist and placed the other on her shoulder, pulling her back.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Take it easy, this thing's not as stable as it looks."

Oh, was all she could say in response. "I-I'm sorry."

"It's alright."

"Hmm. Guess there's a reason it's off limits, huh?"

"Well, that's part of it," Léon explained, "though the main reason this area's shut off is a lot darker than that."

Roxette leaned her head back against his collarbone. "Really? Like a haunted reason?"

Airy laughter escaped his wry smile. "Nah. See, everybody calls this place Dead Man's Drop. There was a drug deal gone bad that took place here two years back. A guy called Shifty Toshiba came to get his fix; that asshole was notorious for fucking with kids. When the boss caught wind of that, he organized a meeting here with the guy."

"What happened?"

"He thought he brought him his cocaine, but in actuality it was sugar. That's when all hell broke loose and Toshiba retaliated. The boss had u— err, some guys, douse him in gasoline. They lit him on fire, he ran around screaming, and then he fell over the edge."

"Whoooooaaa…" The hum of traffic drowned out the silence momentarily before Léon resumed.

"After that, the tunnel got popular and people were coming either to get scared or throw ragers. Sometimes both. But then you had some idiots who got high or drunk goofin' around out here, and, uh… yeah… I'm sure you can guess what happened to them."

"I can't believe it…" Roxette said.

"Yeah, I know, it's pretty fu —"

"I could be standing next to dead people!" She jumped out of his embrace, squealing so loud she'd burst his eardrum. "You know what this means, right?!"

Léon raised a brow. "Uhhhh…?"

"It means there's a possibility this place could be haunted after all! You and me can have some fun, whaddya say? Let's go find them!"

"Tch, c'mon. What is it with you and ghosts?"

Roxette shrugged with her palms upturned. "I 'unno. I think they're pretty cool! Don't you?"

Maybe it wasn't in the same context, but who was to say a stand wasn't to some degree a ghost? To that, Léon smiled. "Yeah. I guess they're okay."

Roxette's eyes blinked as an idea pinged above her head. "JC, is the whole reason you brought me here because you secretly wanna go ghost hunting?"

"What?!"

She giggled and placed her hands behind her back, leaning towards him with a smug look in her eye.

"Wha — no! I mean, not originally. B-b-but we can, maybe —"

"Or is there some other reason you wanted to spend time with me?"

Léon deadpanned. Where his words were failing, the sudden color fluctuation of his cheeks said it all. And for some reason, it was evoking an uncontrollable grin. He swiftly spun the other way, keeping his tell-tale signs a secret. "N-nope, not me!" His voice wavered with anxious laughter as he rubbed the back of his neck. "I-I'm not that kinda guy!" But I am that kind of guy! Fucking dipshit, how many times are you going to lie to her today?!

Roxette sidled over to him with an impish smile on her face. She stepped around him, getting a good look at his face. Catching sight of her, he jolted and darted eye contact immediately.

"Hehehe, I think somebody is guilty —"

"Ahhh, how about we go find those ghosts, huh?! Y-yeah! They're not going to hunt themselves, right?!"

"JC…"

The skies above grew dull and greyed as cumulonimbus clouds drifted overhead, threatening them with booming thunder.

Oh, shit. Busted.

His face flushed darker as she took him by both hands, and lightly swayed. Just like she used to do. A gentle breeze carried her curls and jacket as she began to softly sing to a familiar tune from their childhood. "Forever younggg, hm, hm, hmmm." With a breathy titter, she spontaneously performed a spin into his arms and beheld his addled gaze. It was as though his heart stopped beating permanently; every pore in his body was screaming at him to follow through with the impulses panging in his mind.

Unlike any feelings of want or need in his life, all of the ones pointing to Roxette were much more intense. Unbearably so. Why, though? Why her? How could it be one minute he's neutral, and the next he sees her — or hears her name — it's as though the world around him didn't exist? He wasn't sure if this was a curse or a blessing. Though part of him wanted to believe it was the latter.

In a soft, ethereal tone, she said, "If there's something you want to tell me, no matter what it is, I won't judge you. I'm your friend after all."

Friend… he mused to himself, …what if I ruin everything by telling the truth? He opened his mouth to speak, but the five words he wanted to say were lodged at the back of his throat. "It's just that…" I'm in love with you.

"It's just what?" she asked.

It was useless. Five simple words sent his thought process into a frenzy of discombobulation. He inhaled through his nose and froze. Although he'd made his choice, his mind screamed at him not to take his next course of action. Fuck being hesitant. He waited this long to be honest with her; he was taking his shot.

Léon's shaky hands caressed her cheeks. "It's just that… uhh…"

An awkward silence fell over them. The mere seconds they spent staring at each other felt as if time was sluggishly dragging by. Then, his eyes wandered to her lips. He leaned closer, occasionally searching her eyes for consent. Seeing her inch towards his face erased any doubts he had. That's when he went for it. He closed his eyes and softly pressed his lips against hers. Roxette reciprocated, sliding her hands up his chest and locking her arms around his neck.

"I'm in love with you." he whispered, each kiss after that returning much more fervent than the last.

Heavy gusts of wind picked up around them and a sudden downpour pelted the streets of Skid Row. Steam rose up from the city floor, gathering around the catwalk, when unexpectedly, two transports collided into one another and caused a fiery explosion in the background. Despite that, Léon and Roxette were too entangled in the throes of passion to care.

He remembered the love they shared vividly like a cursed memory etched in not only the furthest reaches of his mind, but in his heart. The rain beating against the highway above the tunnel, the warmth emitting from their bodies, the euphoria warbling through his veins, and the feeling when he awoke hours later. She was there, lying beside him in her apartment, gazing back at the love burning behind indigo eyes. The one moment he longed for finally came. Their encounter wasn't a coincidence, it was fate. It had to be.

But like all the other times, it ended in brutal heartache.

He thought that when he drove her home later that evening something in life had finally — finally — worked in his favor. For once, he'd gotten what he wanted. Five weeks later, a phone call destroyed every ounce of that belief into the finest of fragments. Léon remembered how forced her voice sounded, the sobbing overcome with hysteria behind her words.

His pale face stared blankly at the wall adjacent to him. "It's… not mine…"

The responses she made in turn were erratic and incoherent. And though the news ripped a shockwave of pain through him, one thing remained resolute in spite of everything rapidly turning his world upside-down.

"H-h-hey, it's okay, none of that matters. I don't care, I'm still here for you… hey… hey! Roxy, listen to me," he swallowed, trying to mask the hurt in his voice so as not to upset her more, "I don't hate you! I could never hate you! I'm still your friend. Whatever happened, I don't care — it's not going to change anything."

Roxette's staticky, ill-controlled sobbing came through the other end. "But… don't you think I sound pathetic? Calling you crying and telling you all of this?"

Léon smiled, wiping his tears on his wrist. "No, of course not."

"But why?!"

"Because a little girl once told me it's okay to cry. You're only human, right? Besides… I couldn't think less of you even if I wanted to."

Click.

A lump lurched from his stomach. "Roxy…? She… she hung up…"

Roxette brought her knees up to her chest, hugging them close to procure what little bit of solace she could muster. The phone snatched clean from her grasp was now in the possession of a woman with long, straight, jet-black hair and brown eyes. Her face was slightly gaunt with a pointy chin and equally pointy nose that accentuated her high cheekbones. The plush, sable mink coat she wore came to her shins, almost matching her skin-tight, black, leather catsuit. When she spoke, her tone was haughty and often said with a judgmental sneer on her face… even to her daughter of all people.

"It's for your own good, you know."

"My own good?!" she spat, popping her head up. "I just lied to —"

The sudden strike of a black leather glove felt as if it jostled her brain. On top of that, four diamond attachments fashioned at the tips of the woman's fingers left searing scratches across Roxette's face. "Learn your place! You wanted this lifestyle, so now you'll be treated like the rest of the garbage here. Don't you ever talk out of turn again. If you want my respect, the offer to come back to the capital with me is still on the table. Should you accept it…"

Roxette bit back the need to shoot her another fiery comeback, lest she just get slapped again. Or, knowing her mother, much worse.

"I'll take your silence as a no then. But of course. Why give your unborn child the chance to live in a stable environment, where they'd be better taken care of, when you can raise them in the dumpster you conceived them in?" The woman's cruel gaze leered down at her, filling Roxette with immense anxiety. "Answer me when I'm speaking to you!"

Roxette flinched. "Why are you so mean to me?" She knew she shouldn't have said that, but it was the truth. Her mother grit her teeth, gripped her hair in a tightly clenched fist, and demanded her attention with a firm yank.

"Mean?! You're calling me mean?! Have I not given you the freedom to make your own choices?" Roxette winced as she twisted her hair harder. "If I were truly mean, wouldn't I have forced you to move to the capital with me when you were a child?!" She inched closer to her face, practically spitting on her. "Were I mean, would I still allow this abomination inside you a chance at life? Hmmmm?"

"N-no…"

"No what?"

"No, mother…"

"Wrong. As long as you live in Skid Row, you'll refer to me as Madame Siouxsie Capulet like everyone else. When you can decide to stop being an embarrassment to me, then — and only then — can you call me mother . Understand?"

She nodded.

Siouxsie released the damning grip on her hair, the pain she caused Roxette still throbbing in her skull. "Good. I only made you lie to him to teach you a valuable lesson. That way you'll never make the same foolish mistake again. While I give you the freedom you so deserve, there are still consequences for your actions; never forget that. I also know that you didn't call just to give me this outrageous news because you're happy that I'm a grandmother. Let me guess: you were afraid I'd find out… weren't you?"

Once again, she nodded.

Siouxsie sighed, straightening her back from bending forward. "Typical. Well, you can be relieved knowing I won't drown the damn thing since you were at least trying not to go behind my back. Not to say you didn't with that boy, but what's done is done. I respect honesty, so for that, I'll spare this… thing of yours."

"But you will leave Léon alone… won't you?"

Siouxsie glared. "Are you questioning me?"

"I… no…"

"Hmph. Don't worry about him. As I said, what's done is done." She started out the apartment door when she stopped and turned her cold gaze back to her daughter. Roxette forced composure in her presence, sitting presentable and like a young lady should in spite of wanting to break down into a sobbing mess.

"For once, darling, act your age. Choose to be with a man who can actually take care of you. And that's something you'll never find in Skid Row. No one has, and no one will. Especially not you. Oh, and um… do tend to those scratches on your face, will you? We wouldn't want scars to make you uglier than you already are." She simpered and finalized her condescending cruelty with, "I suppose you'll think next time before you open your mouth, won't you?" With that, Siouxsie left the apartment, casually closing the door behind her.

Roxette squeezed her eyes shut. Her chest quaked and she launched her face down into the throw pillow of her couch, bawling until her throat burned raw, and her ribs feeling as though they would shatter.

Siouxsie's ear was pressed to Roxette's door, listening to her cry an endless flood from her living room. "I get the sneaky suspicion she's going to rebel in the near future. No matter…" From her purse, she fished out her phone and scrolled through the contacts screen, finding just the person she needed to speak to: Edguy Mephisto.

The dial tone persisted, grating on her patience all the more as she stood in the grungy hallway like a diamond amongst litter. "Answer, goddamn you."

The call was accepted, and a male voice, smooth as silk, spoke to her, "Madame Capulet! It's an honor."

She rolled her eyes and started down the stairs with her nose held high. "Don't attempt your foolish flattery with me, clown. I didn't call you to make small talk, I need a favor."

"Of course! I'd be delighted to do favors for a woman as lovely as yourself."

Siouxsie let out a disgusted scoff as she stepped outside the apartment and onto the sidewalk. "Shut up! Tell me something. What do you know about a man named Léon Polnareff?"

"Hmmm. That name sounds vaguely familiar…"

In the background, Siouxsie noted Geil's deep, (non) intimidating laughter. "Very sneaky, Edguy."

"I know him," Geil said, "I know him real well. He's Vicious's kid, and one of Angus's goons."

Siouxsie smirked, her eyes lighting up with intrigue. "Oh, really?" How interesting. Not only does this give me the advantage over Quiet Riot, but Vicious's annoying little group of botnappers as well. He'll be so heartbroken when he hears the news. A low, wicked laugh reverberated in her chest. "Then you shouldn't have a problem taking care of him for me."

"What, do you want us to kill him or something?" Geil asked. "Shit, I just lost 3 of my men on account of him a week ago. You'd think jumping that asshole in a bathroom would make it easy."

Contemplating while she studied her daughter's blood under the diamond nails, she slipped into a nearby alley, smiling mischievously. "Oh, quit your damn whining. It's more a matter of who I want him to kill."

"Come again?"

"Are you really this dense? Oh. Nevermind. I keep forgetting I'm speaking to Skid Row scum. He needs to learn his place and stay away from my daughter. From what I understand, the jail cells of the capital's penitentiary are looking a bit… vacant."

A car passed by the alley she was in.

"We're still after Angus's territory, correct? Then make a scene with him in the center of it. This is where I want you to come in, Edguy. Get his DNA for PATHGOD and frame him for murder. I don't care who you kill, just finish the job and finish it without any mistakes. Make any, and I'll personally have you buried alive ten feet in my backyard, with a pipe leaking sewage into your coffin. Clear enough for you?"

Geil's response was a breathy, though nervous, laugh. "Oh, yeah, boss. We read you loud and clear."