Fragments

This container wasn't built for people. Just to keep tech from shattering on impact. The fall lasted forever. Impact— everything went white. Silent. The smell of rust and rain and rot. Crawled my way out of twisted metal. Cutting— no. Lattice isn't cut the same way as skin. Didn't think about that then. Crawled hand over hand through the wreckage. Still thought I was human.

There's hands on me— twitchy, cold. He's no more than 20. Layers of coats with stuffed pockets. Augmented eye blinking wrong. Rescuing you, he said. Grandma will patch you up. Like I should be grateful. Didn't ask what being rescued cost. Just followed. He kept looking at me like I was something valuable. Still thought the tech was something I could take off.

Butcher shop. That's what Twitch— the one who rescued me— called it. Bodies on hooks. Augments stripped clean. Grandma wanted payment, rescue fees. Twitch would get his cut for delivering me. So I pointed at the scrap pile. Identified salvage she'd missed. Proved I knew things. She let me work instead of pay. Thought I was being smart.

Cleaned her shop. Processed the fallen into slurries for sale. Hands in meat. Breaking down what couldn't be used whole. The 15% rule meant it went into food without labels. Community bought it. Ate it. Survived on it. Twitch was the only one who'd talk to me. I told him I couldn't do it anymore. I felt sick.

Lattice augment on the floor. Grabbed it without thinking. It didn't stay in my hand. Dissolved. Pulled into me like water into sand. The wound on my arm healed. Just closed, gone. Twitch saw. Said he'd pay off my debt if I came with him. Someone named Moth wanted to meet me. Another profit scheme, had to be. But I followed anyway. Would have done anything to leave the shop.

The Crow's Nest. Market built on beams crossing above the drains. Twitch led me up— higher than I'd been since the fall. Moth's place sat right at the waterline. Close enough to feel the flood coming. They were waiting. Foxlike. Sharp bones wrapped in patchwork and lies. Eyes mismatched, burnt lips. Smoke wreathing around as they grinned. Said they could help. For a price.

Graveyard of Giants, Moth said. Tell them how many Colossi are buried there, and find out my worth. Gain protection in return. I nodded like I understood. Pretended I knew what a Colossus was. Twitch was shifting beside me, antsy. He'd paid to bail me out of Grandma's. Was worried I was worthless after all. Moth smiled. Charred lips. Humming something under their breath.

The Graveyard. Twitch is behind me, quiet for once. I walked forward. Don't remember why. Something underground. Massive. Buried deep. I could— sense? Feel them? How did I— [DATA CORRUPTION] What did I do there? How did I see them?

Eight, I said. Eight Colossi. Moth's mismatched eyes flickered, interested. I passed the test. They handed me measurements. Specifications. "Make this." A jaw, for someone called Grizz. A Riveted. Leverage. Twitch pulled me toward the exit. As we left, I heard Moth's voice, hushed and talking to someone. "Yes, Cathedra. I found one."

Twitch's place. Lean-to by Scrapyard 4. Smaller than I expected. He helped me gather materials. Scrap metal, hydraulic components, wire. I worked through the night. The jaw took shape in my hands. Precise. Better than it needed to be. Twitch watched. "You've done this before?" I hadn't. But my hands knew how, and I swear it felt familiar. I didn't question it.

Grizz was massive. Steel jaw half-rusted through. Amber eyes glassed over, already wary. Twitch started the pitch. The jaw, modest payment. Grizz stared at me with that empty look. "Add maintenance, custom work. And I walk whenever I want. I'm retired, this gets me back in." Twitch opened his mouth to counter— but I interrupted him to agree to the terms. I offered priority service.

Twitch was furious after. "Those terms are gonna bleed us dry!" Didn't care. Couldn't explain why. It was something about the way Grizz looked. Exhausted. Built for war and held together with scrap and spite. Hopeless. Surviving. He had to stay, I needed him to. Even if the price was steep.

The jaw fit perfectly. Grizz didn't say anything for a long time. I felt proud. Shouldn't have— I lied, said I knew what I was doing. Started thinking about other repairs. His spine grinding wrong. Nerve dampeners failing. Chronic pain. Maybe this is how I'm useful here. Make things a little better. Make him a little better.

Moth paid Twitch with oily hands thumbing bills. I expected him to leave after that. He didn't. Asked if he used the payment for a workshop, could I make things to sell? Do Boltist work? I thought about it. My skills, and what I knew. Said yes, if he got me the scrap and sold the work. Twitch grinned like he'd won something.

The new workshop was in the Crow's Nest, lower levels. Cheap because we'd have to evacuate twice daily. Seal everything up when the flooding came. Twitch ran off immediately. Collecting scrap, he said. Left me and Grizz alone. He was looking at the space. Then at me. "You really know how to do this?" he asked. I nodded. Hoped I wasn't lying again.

Twitch was sorting scrap when his optic implant sparked. Not the usual flicker— smoke curling from the socket. He clawed at his face, screaming. The cheap tune-up he'd gotten last week was frying him. Grizz caught him before he hit the ground. "Kid needs a Butcher. Good one." His voice was flat. I was already moving.

Groundside was different. Actual ground beneath scrap walls. Flood management. Smelled almost fresh. The Butcher's shop— sterile as anywhere could be down here. The man who answered was gaunt. Pale hair, drawn face. Bulky frame under a heavy coat. Clumsy robot limbs extended in greeting, introduced himself as Skein. He looked at Twitch, leading him to the table.

Skein's coat flared open— the robot arms pulling it wide like wings spreading. Inside, raven patterns in the lining, black feathers stitched in silver thread. Manacles covering up to his shoulders detached with a hiss. His real hands— delicate, precise. They moved over Twitch's face with surgical certainty. Grizz went quiet. I couldn't look away.

Twitch was stable. Sleeping. Skein locked his manacles back in place, robot arms folding the coat closed. His eyes tracked something I couldn't see. "Your lattice," he said quietly. "Where did you get work that...extensive?" My throat tightened. Grizz shifted behind me. I didn't have an answer that wouldn't see me stripped for parts.

Water came fast. Black and oily, rising through floorboards. Twitch was still weak, barely standing. We grabbed what we could— tools, wire, half-finished projects. Everything was slick. The workshop groaned, walls bowing inward. Grizz hauled Twitch up with one arm. Looked at me. "Move. Now." The water tasted like rust and rot when I swallowed wrong.

Outside, rain hammering down. Sharp, smells like ash. Flood was faster than usual. We had nowhere to go. Skein's place was too far, too small. Moth would charge us breathing room. Grizz stood there, water streaming off his shoulders, jaw working. Finally: "...My place. Groundside." Twitch was shivering. I nodded. Grizz turned without waiting, leading us through the downpour.

Grizz's place was... warm. Actual heat, by salvaged radiator coils. Sealed windows keeping the storm out. A big chair worn smooth from use, not just scavenged metal. Clean water in containers. Space to breathe. I stared. This was what he'd built with blood money and broken bodies. Something soft in the grinding metal. He wouldn't look at us. "Make yourselves useful."

The storm against the roof. Inside, heat and quiet. Grizz handed me real food, warm and solid. Skein ate slow, like he'd forgotten meals could be more than fuel. We didn't talk much. Twitch's breathing was even. The radiator buzzed quietly. For the first time since the fall, I felt safe. Like we weren't just parts waiting to break down. Like maybe we were something else.

As we settled in, Skein was staring. Not at Twitch— at me. His eyes tracked something I couldn't see. "Your lattice," he said quietly. "It's degrading." The warmth drained out of the room. Grizz went still. "How long since you've replenished it?" Skein asked. I didn't know what that meant. Didn't know lattice had a shelf life. Didn't know I was already running out of time.

"There's a group," Skein said. "The Order. They worship lattice, have clean supplies, might know how to replenish you." His voice was careful. Clinical. Like he was discussing metal, not me. Grizz's jaw tightened. "They're zealots." Silence stretched. Rain hammered harder. Finally, Grizz exhaled. "Boltist Cathedra owes me a favor." Skein nodded. I recognized that name.

The deep parts. Where factory roots burrow under trash mountains, maintenance forgotten decades ago. Grizz walked ahead, jaw tight. "Moth got me work with The Order once, got this favor from it." He didn't sound grateful. The smoke stack rose ahead—massive, black, still breathing ash into the storm. Lightning reflected off metal. The wrong place for salvation, for the living.

Spiral staircase down. Walls lined with bodies—twisted metal and synthetic flesh, damaged beyond recognition. Not human. Some of their eyes still glowed dimly, tracking our descent. Air like copper and burnt wire. Claustrophobic. Grizz's hand stayed near his weapon. I couldn't stop looking at the eyes. Couldn't stop feeling like they knew me.

The chamber was cramped, stagnant. The Priestess Cathedra cradled in a rig. She was half-built, half-decayed. Copper filament halo crowning her skull, wires trailing, cloth like tar and smoke. Her eyes— cyan, glowing. Exactly like mine. My chest tightened. Wrong. It felt wrong. She stared at me, hands trembling. Then, perfect stillness. "You," she breathed hoarsely.

"The city's heart predicted you." Her voice crackled like dead channels. "Wearing lattice uncorrupted, destined to unmake the wandering devourers." She meant the Colossi. The two acolytes knelt. Grizz didn't. "What do you want from me?" I asked. Her smile was wrong. "To slay them. To cleanse." She offered clean lattice, liquid mirror in her palm. "We will sustain you."

I took the offering. It dissolved into me, warmth flooding places I hadn't realized were cold. Hollow spaces filling. I could breathe again. "You'll train with us," Cathedra said. "Learn to hunt, to kill what should not walk." The acolytes murmured agreement. This is why I fell. Because I had a purpose. Grizz's face was unreadable. The lattice settled into me, tethering me here.

Twitch's friend needed hands. Deflector work— clearing salvage stuck in the shields that redirect skyfall to the yards. Dangerous. Patrols watched for scavengers taking cuts. But the pay split three ways was worth it. Twitch looked at me. "You're good with heights, right?" I wasn't. But he wanted me there. "Sure," I said. I should have been training for The Order.

Up and up. Highest view since the fall. The deflector shields loomed— massive, angled, this one redirecting tons of good salvage to Briar's yard. "Anti-lattice compliance," he called it. Really just Briar paying off Community workers. Above us, through storm-thinned clouds— The Lattice. Geostationary grid, like stars. Twitch kept glancing up at it. Didn't say why.

Salvage wedged in deflector seams. We pried it loose— Twitch's friend securing lines, Twitch navigating the gaps, me pulling weight. Dangerous work. People thought this job was exciting. Up here it was wind and rust and the constant fear of falling. Or of patrols spotting us. Debris shifted. The whole panel groaned. Twitch grabbed my arm. "Move. NOW!" We ran along the beam.

Safe. Breathing hard, backs against solid metal. The Lattice visible above— sky clear for once. Grid of lights against the dark. Home, but it didn't feel like it anymore. Twitch craned his neck. "I wanted to show you," he said quietly. "You used to live in the stars, didn't you?" He brought me along to share this. Home. Something in my chest tightened. "Thanks," I managed.

The alarm went off. Just for a moment. The shopkeeper stepped back. "Lattice tech? Are you— are you corrupted?" Fear in her voice. Her kid behind her. Skein froze. "No. We're both clean. Verified. I'm a Butcher, I help people—" Apologizing. Humiliating himself. She shooed us out anyway. Skein wouldn't look at me.

"Why do you hide your arms?" I asked. "They help people." Skein's jaw tightened. "They see lattice and think corruption. They think arrest and exile and sterilization. It's better to hide what we are, than to..." His voice was flat even as he trailed off. Practiced. Like he'd said it before. "Just don't let them see all of you. Ever." Something cold settled in my chest.

I'd been shadowing Skein at his work. He admitted his arms worked better lately, more responsive. Sometimes moved before he thought. His hands flexed in the cold manacles. Something in his voice— fear? Hope? "It's only around your lattice shell. But it feels like I'm... taking something from you." But he didn't want to send me away, I could tell. I said I'd stay.

This time, Skein watched me with The Order. Saw how comfortable I was getting, talking about my "shell"— the lattice I wore. He pulled me aside after. "Don't let them know everything. If anyone ever thinks you're corrupted—" He didn't finish. Didn't need to. If I was going to be visible, I'd need protection from corruption. Skein stayed. Kept hiding his arms.

The Order wanted me to see "real combat" before Wraith training. Cathedra said Colossi wouldn't fall to theory alone. Grizz knew a place. Fighting clubs in the lower districts— blood and oil and money. He didn't want to go. "Haven't been in years." But Twitch heard about the purse, got excited. Grizz just looked tired. "I'm not fighting. Just watching." We left the next day.

Underground. Crowd pressed tight, sweaty. The wealthy with their fighters. Volunteer rounds for the desperate. Money changing hands everywhere. In the corner, a woman with wires trailing from her scorched black temple ran numbers on a datapad, looking trapped and weary. Grizz watched the fights, jaw grinding. The voices and smoke suffocated me.

Someone recognized Grizz. "The Grinder! Thought you were dead!" Laughter rippled through nearby crowd, jostling me. A fighter stepped forward— young, heavily augmented, inked. "Heard stories. You were supposed to be unstoppable." Grin like broken glass. "The prove it, old man. Or... pay Hacklet for that botched contract." Grizz went very still. "That debt's ten years old."

Grizz entered the pit. Stripped his coat— scrap plating and hydraulics, all crude and heavy. The fighter was faster. Newer augments. But Grizz knew how to take hits, how to wait, how to break things that thought they were unbreakable. It was brutal, but it felt wrong to watch someone fight like they'd already accepted dying. The crowd loved it. Grizz won. He collapsed after.

Got him back to the workshop. Blood and hydraulic fluid everywhere. His spine was grinding, nerve dampeners fried, plating cracked. Hours of work ahead. Twitch hovered, anxious. "I can do this," I said. Grizz looked at me through pain-glazed eyes. "Yeah. You can." Trust. I started with the spine, hands steadier then my heart. He didn't make a sound.

Three hours in, Grizz finally spoke. "Fought there for years. Built that place in Groundside with the money." His voice was rough. "Got tired of being a thing people bet on." "You're not a thing." He laughed, bitter. "Sure I am. We all are down here." Quiet for a moment. Then, "You're good at this. Taking care of broken things." Something in my chest tightened.

Community tested me for my Wraith license. Practical skills first— disabling a Colossus, reading contamination levels. I passed easily. Arrogantly. Then classifications— size, cohesion, sentience, risk. Some tagged for specific Wraiths. Laws next. Only protected Wraiths doing their work, no one else. Necessary evil, they said.

Next, corruption screening. They ran my lattice through some field, checking if my tech was contaminated. I held still, drawing inward, nervous for reasons I couldn't explain. The examiner frowned at the readings. "Your lattice is... dense. Concentrated." Pause. "But clean enough." Signed off. I tried not to think about the burning sensation deep in my chest.

The Order's sponsorship wasn't "here's funds, don't fail" like most Wraiths had. It was ritual. Cathedra in her rig, acolytes chanting. "Wraith Cipher, cleanser of corruption." They marked my certificate with holy symbols. Grizz watched from the back, jaw grinding. Later he asked, "You know what you signed up for?" I thought so, at the time.

I was certified. Now just waiting for a Wraith to call— a one-time mentor to get me started. Days of nothing. Grizz told me to stay at his place more. "Rest up before the big fight." I recognized it as worry, about the upcoming job. He was trying to keep me close by. Something warm settled in my chest. I started working on something small. A project, for him.

Made two necklaces. Proximity sensors as simple pendants— warm when they're worn near each other. "So you know I'm safe," I'd tell him. Thought it was clever, playful. Got the terrible idea to sneak it on him while he wasn't looking. Stepped behind, reached up— His hand caught my wrist. Slammed me into the table. Eyes glazed at first, then recognition. Horror.

Grizz let go. Stepped back. Walls came up fast— jaw tight, eyes distant. I tried to apologize. "It's so you'd know I'm safe." Fumbled with the words. He stared at the pendant in my hand. Then, gruffly said "Do it right this time. No sneaking." Turned his back to me. I clasped it around his neck, slowly. He touched it, didn't take it off after.