Chapter 4 — Last Day, Last Breath
——
Morning hit like a bad punchline.
Suho sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. No alarm—just instinct. He blinked once, twice, then stood, stretching until his spine popped.
Kun was still dead on the couch—shirtless, blanket half-off, mouth hanging open like a broken hinge. The small apartment smelled like cheap socks and last night's takeout. Rain smeared gray light across the cracked window.
Then—
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
"BOYS! IT'S ME—RAY! GET THE HELL UP! We've got errands before you die in uniform!"
Kun flailed violently, blanket wrapping around his leg as he half-fell off the couch.
"Holy fuck—worst way to wake someone up, I swear to God..."
He staggered to the door, stepped over an upturned stim-pack, and cracked it open.
"Still asleep?" Ray barked, already pushing his way in.
The man filled the doorway like a bouncer at war—broad shoulders wrapped in a scuffed synth-leather coat, long white scarf half-drenched in the rain. A plasma pistol hung loose at his side, holstered with old merc flair. His gray-streaked undercut was messier than usual, like he'd shaved it in the dark.
"Get dressed before I sell you both for scrap," he added, voice gravel and caffeine.
"Yes, dad..." Kun groaned, stepping aside.
Suho was already halfway into his shirt. Calm. Focused.
"Where are we going?"
Ray scanned the room with visible disgust.
"Somewhere I can sell your organs."
Kun froze.
"Huh—WHAT?"
Ray cracked a grin that showed a gold tooth.
"Kidding, dumbass. Even Admin wouldn't pay for your liver."
He stepped inside, boots leaving faint wet prints on the floor. A half-crushed ramen cup squelched under his foot. He looked around like he'd stumbled into a war crime.
"This place looks like my toilet after trench vodka and regret."
He tapped a cracked med-inject on the table with one gloved finger, watching it roll and drop off the edge.
"You'd think with all the gigs I threw your way, you could afford a mop."
Kun scratched his head, deadpan.
"Home shit home."
——
Kun tugged on his jacket, stretching his arms like he was preparing for war. Suho finished strapping his boots and adjusted the collar of his coat, everything in place with surgical precision.
They stepped out of the apartment together—down the narrow, cracked hallway that still smelled like mold and yesterday's regret.
Kun glanced over at Ray.
"Kinda rare seeing you babysit us like this."
Ray grunted, walking ahead like a man who owned the whole damn building.
"Yeah, well—nobody else volunteered to deal with your smelly ass, boy."
"Just wait. Once I hit the Academy, I'm bagging a cute chick in every dorm wing." Kun smirked.
"Nobody wants you." Suho, flat and instant.
Ray burst out laughing, loud enough to rattle the wall panels.
"Hah! You hear that? Kid's already got you figured out!"
They reached the stairwell. The overhead light flickered—then gave up entirely.
As they hit the ground floor, a familiar voice rasped from the shadows.
"Boss… hey, boss. Gimme some creds, yeah?"
It was the same junkie that had harassed Suho the night before—skin pale, eyes darting, nerves fried like static.
Ray didn't slow.
"Get the fuck outta my face before I blow your brain across the wall."
The junkie vanished like smoke—no retort, no hesitation.
Outside, the air was thick with morning rot and mist. Rain clung to the concrete, and neon signs flickered weakly across shuttered shops.
A sleek black car idled at the curb—sharp angles, armored plating, tinted windows dark as sin. The doors bore no emblem, but the build screamed military-grade—Admin retrofit, if you knew what to look for.
Kun whistled low.
"Damn," he muttered. "Looks like the brothel's paying off. That, or Admin's sliding you something extra under the table."
"No guards?" Suho asked
Ray didn't answer. Just opened the back door and jerked his chin toward it.
"Get in. I'll tell you why."
——
The car hummed as Ray pulled away from the curb, tires slicing through puddles slick with oil and neon residue.
The interior was silent—until the radio sputtered to life.
"...recently, a breach was reported on the alpha-side perimeter of District 9. Four dead. Two injured. Authorities suspect—"
TZZT.
Ray flicked the knob, cutting the news short. Heavy synth music replaced it, low and pulsing.
"So," he said casually, eyes on the road, "you asked why I didn't bring guards."
"Yeah?" Suho glanced over.
"Some merc crew raided an assassin hideout last night. High-profile. Loud." Ray's voice dropped slightly. "Real loud."
Kun's smirk faded.
"Shit... that gonna turn into something?"
Ray grunted.
"Probably. Could blow up into a full-on turf war. Beta's got no leash. Alpha's protected, pampered. But down here?" He gestured out the window. "No rules. No mercy."
"Where are we going, anyway?" Suho asked.
Ray cracked a smile.
"Somewhere that's gonna hit you with a little nostalgia... our old training ground."
Kun leaned back, arm draped across the seat.
"You sound like a steppie dad trying to bond before the divorce."
Ray laughed—a rough, genuine sound that briefly cut through the synth music.
Outside the windows, Beta District 9 passed like a fever dream.
Two men brawled in front of a crumbling noodle stand, fists soaked in stim sweat.
A girl in torn synth-leather pulled a boy into a kiss so hard it looked like consumption.
Down a side alley, three kids poked at a collapsed android—broken, sparking, its voice box glitching out lullabies, the notes warped and distorted like a memory gone wrong.
Trash fires. Shattered signs. Holograms begging for attention in a language no one remembered.
Kun stared at the chaos, voice low.
"Whole city's rotting... and we're leaving it."
Ray didn't disagree.
His grip on the wheel tightened, knuckles whitening for just a second.
——
SKRRRK.
Ray's car slid to a stop, tires hissing against the cracked pavement.
Outside, the air was thick with rot and silence. They'd arrived—a dead playground, swallowed by rust and weeds. Swings hung by a single chain. An android head sat in the dirt, neck wires frayed like torn nerves. A broken slide sagged inward like it had tried to collapse and just... stopped halfway.
"Fresh air," Kun exhaled as he stepped out, stretching like a cat in the ruins.
He looked around, eyes scanning the ghosts.
"I remember this place… it's where Suho first did his spooky Void thing and made a training bot implode."
Suho's gaze lingered on the slide.
He didn't respond.
"Why'd you bring us here?" he asked, voice quiet but sharp.
Ray stood with his hands in his coat pockets, looking out at the desolation.
"Nothing personal. Just figured I'd get one last moment with you two before you disappear into Academy hell."
He shrugged. "That a crime now?"
"Bro, you sound just like our stepdad." Kun groaned dramatically.
Suho smirked.
Kun flopped down onto the old bench facing the ruin, boots propped up, posture lazy but thoughtful. Suho sat beside him—silent, but present.
Ray stepped forward and reached into his coat.
"Here."
He handed each of them a compact device—clean, solid, dark metal. Military-grade casing. No logos.
"Phones?" Kun raised a brow. "Wow. My stepdad really did get me a birthday present."
Suho turned the device over in his hand.
"Why give us these?"
Ray shrugged.
"Just in case. You need something—you call me. Like I said last night."
Kun eyed the phone suspiciously.
"You sure Admin won't use these to spy on us watching porn and crying at 3 a.m.?"
"Boy, I paid for those with my own creds," Ray said flatly.
"No tracking, no taps, no spyware. Just signal. And trust."
He didn't say it, but they heard the weight behind the words.
Ray wasn't just giving them a line.
He was giving them a lifeline.
——
Suho turned the device over in his hand.
"This is expensive."
Ray shrugged, eyes on the dead playground.
"If anything happens in that Academy—call me."
Suho glanced up.
"Didn't think you trusted the Administration."
Ray snorted.
"I work with them. Doesn't mean I trust 'em."
He took a breath, watching rust flake off an old swing.
"Corrupted Objects've been getting more aggressive. And the thing is..."
A beat.
"They don't just kill. They twist things. Change them into something else."
Kun looked out at the hollow landscape.
"Then what's the Academy even for?"
Ray didn't answer right away. Just pulled his coat tighter.
"That's why I gave you the phones."
He paused. Voice quieter now.
"If it gets bad... reach out."
There was a long silence. Wind rustled through broken chains. A soft clink.
"Weird seeing you this soft," Suho said.
Ray chuckled once. Dry.
"I picked you both up when no one else gave a damn. That doesn't stop just because you're leaving."
He looked at them—really looked.
"So listen to me, just this once."
"Keep it together. Protect each other."
No more words.
Kun and Suho both nodded.
——
Ray stepped back from the bench, clearing his throat like he was done being sentimental.
"Alright, enough heavy talk."
He gestured toward the car. "Let's get you back before the slums eat your kneecaps."
Kun stood, cracking his neck.
"Man, you always kill the mood."
"Better than getting killed in one," Ray muttered, already walking.
Suho followed without a word. His steps were light, but his thoughts were heavy.
They climbed into the car. The engine hummed back to life. Headlights flicked on, casting fractured light over the ruins.
——
On the drive back, the city didn't talk—but the car did.
Holo-ads glitched across half-broken signs. A man stumbled in front of a stim stall, yelling at nothing. The sky was bruised purple, spitting light rain.
Kun leaned back, chewing invisible thoughts.
"Think anyone in the Academy's gonna punch me first day?"
"Only if they have taste," Suho replied.
Ray snorted from the driver's seat.
"If you get kicked out before week two, I'm not letting you crawl back in tears. Just so we're clear."
"Noted," Kun said. "I'll cry silently under a desk instead."
——
By the time they reached the apartment, night had settled in. The city's glow was a distant pulse now—quiet, like it was holding its breath.
Ray parked but didn't kill the engine.
"Tomorrow's big," he said, looking ahead. "Don't be late."
"Don't die."
"We'll try not to," Suho said.
Kun just gave a thumbs-up and popped the door open.
——
Back inside, the apartment was still the same mess it had always been.
Kun dropped onto the couch.
Suho pulled off his coat and sat on the bed.
The rain returned—soft, steady, tapping against the windows like it was remembering them.
No more words.
Just quiet.