The City of Ionia

"It's been a while since I've had the house to myself."

Sydney sat at the dinner table alone, scrolling on her phone with a newly lit cigarette in her mouth. Chill jazz music acted as background noise, and the heater warmed the place up.

Kaze was out with his friends, and the others went to the casino. Roger invited her, but Sydney declined. Not once or twice, but multiple times. In the end, she had to ask Jill to get Roger to quit asking. Sydney didn't like going there due to a particular person.

Speaking of, would Jill run into Ruben? Sydney pondered on the thought, but ultimately brushed it off. He would usually be at Elix, his nightclub, or his penthouse, which was in the same building.

Sydney puffed the smoke out of her mouth. She hadn't smoked in the house in a while. It felt good without the complaints of the smell.

Sydney placed her phone down and rubbed her eyes. She wasn't tired just yet since she woke up late, but her eyes wanted to look at something other than a screen.

"I can clean my room."

Sydney did just that. Her bedroom was a mess, not because of Jill as a roommate, but because she stopped caring to clean. Jill usually did the cleaning. Sometimes she would be too lazy, and Sydney wouldn't pick up the slack. It would pile and pile until someone had to do it. Boredom kicked in, so Sydney didn't mind and picked up the slack.

She went ahead and made her bed, lazily covering her unwashed clothes with the comforter.

"Good enough," she said.

Jill's air mattress was made perfectly—no creases or wrinkles.

Must've learned that from the outside world or something, she thought.

Sydney picked up used socks from the ground and placed them in the basket.

Buzz.

"Hm?"

A phone buzzed on the small table by the window. Sydney left her phone downstairs, so it wasn't hers. That meant only one thing.

"Jill's phone…"

Messages were displayed on the home screen. Sydney didn't want to invade her privacy and read, but she also wanted to know who Jill had been talking to. She was horrible at texting, and her outsider friends never texted her since she never responded.

Sydney dropped her ethics and peeped over the phone.

"Your deposit for 600,000 ions has been wired. I will send the rest soon. Cheers - RB."

"RB?"

Sydney's eyes widened. There was only one person in the world who used 'RB' like that. It was someone she despised speaking to. Someone who ruined her life.

Why was Jill speaking to Ruben? And what was this talk about a deposit? Did Jill do something for Ruben? But when?

Sydney aggressively puffed the smoke out of her mouth and shook her head in heavy frustration.

***

She barged through the doors and entered the Elix by showing her branded mark to security personnel. The club was busy as usual, with the base erupting the walls and Sydney's eardrums.

A bright mix of white and neon lights flicked around, giving anyone with epilepsy a heart attack. It was almost as if the flash of a camera was taking pictures non–stop.

As usual, Ruben sat in the lounge area, one leg over the other, surrounded by multiple women dressed in red. That sight never failed to disgust her.

Sydney walked over there wearing a dark top and baggy khakis. Ruben noticed her and smiled.

"Ah, Sydney?! To what do I owe the pleasure?" His arm was wrapped around a woman's neck while holding a wide glass of heavy liquor.

"We need to talk. Penthouse, now."

"Great, leave it to you to boss me around my own place. Ladies, I do apologize, but I must leave for the time being."

The herd of women groaned in disappointment. Sydney gagged and looked off to the side.

He continued. "I'm aware of the disappointment. Keep each other entertained. I'll be back shortly." He stood with a grand smile. "Shall we?"

Up at the penthouse, Ruben directed his attention to a fine bottle on the top shelf of his prized collection. He offered Sydney a drink, but she refused. Sydney waited for him to offer a cigarette, but that didn't happen. Asking for one straight away felt rude and uncalled for. She shoved the urge to ask deep within.

"So, what's so important that you need to ruin some me–time?"

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Sydney whipped out Jill's phone and held it to his face. "These messages are from you. You're the only one who refers to himself as 'RB'—depositing 600,000 ions? That's only half? What did you have her doing? Why is she in contact with you? Did you try to seduce her? Swear to God, if you did, then I'll dig your grave right here and now."

Ruben held his palm up. "Slow your roll—one question at a time. And for the record, I have not seduced her, nor will I ever. Now, I can't bring myself to lie, so I will tell it to you as it is. Feeling lost in Ionia, Jill came to me alone, seeking a career. I mentioned poetry, waitress, education, I think. Regardless, she wanted something more meaningful. Or so I assumed, since whatever I recommended seemed dull to her. She mentioned that she used to participate in raids in the outside world, so I invited her to join a new mission, which she gladly accepted. Does that answer everything?" He clasped his hands and smiled.

"Feeling lost? She went to you for career advice? Why you? Why not me?"

He shrugged. "Perhaps she's aware of my status—my connections, even."

Sydney took a deep breath, frustrated. She repeatedly squeezed and opened her hands, and brought two fingers towards her mouth as though she had a cigarette.

"Why didn't she come to me…?"

Sydney had noticed Jill's mood lately. It was subtle at first, the way her eyes lingered just a moment too long on conversations she wasn't part of. The boys were either with Kaze or focusing on their skills to benefit their future. On the other hand, Jill roamed around the house without openly talking about her future. Sydney felt Jill had been left out, though Jill would never say it outright. When Sydney tried to bring up the future, Jill brushed it off, pretending it was the least important thing in the world. Jill dismissed any discussion about her future, not because she didn't care, but because caring meant opening herself to the possibility of being disappointed, of being told she didn't belong.

"Perhaps she wished to go to someone more… I don't know… educated. I know Ionia inside and out. It's only reasonable for her to come to me with queries."

"I don't want her to come to you. I want her to stay away."

Ruben smiled oddly. "May I ask why?"

"Why?! I don't know? Maybe because you ruined my life?"

"Ruined your life?" Ruben leaned on the table with his hand, swirling a glass of drink with the other. "I gifted you generational wealth. Generational wealth. And you're saying I ruined your life?"

Sydney refused to look in Ruben's eyes. "It's not about the money. It's about the acts I committed. People died because of me. The guilt that carries until the day I die, possibly haunting my afterlife. I don't want her to go through a similar path as I."

"Sydney, I told you whatever happened wasn't your fault. It's a tragic twist of fate. Put it simply as that."

Sydney repeatedly swallowed. "It's not that simple. I've dug too many graves. But that… that one burned the most. It took the most out of me to shovel the ground. She doesn't need to go through that."

Sydney was a protective older sister who deeply cared for her two brothers, Nathan and Kaze. Because her mother died shortly after birth, she was raised by her father, who owned a self–defense dojo. The business struggled for as long as she could remember. Some weeks, there were barely enough students to cover rent, and Sydney remembered the quiet tension in her father's face whenever the bills piled up on the table.

At school, she overheard someone mention a man who grants favors and deals with a snap of a finger. Sydney overheard this conversation and found the mysterious man. Sydney asked Ruben for money to support her dad's business in exchange for cleaning the counters and mopping the floors. Ruben smiled and accepted. He sent enough money to Sydney's father to cover two years' worth of rent in exchange for Sydney's time. However, she never ended up as a cleaner, but as a fighter. With experience from her father, Ruben molded Sydney into an extraordinary fighter.

She was a quick learner. Over many years, she excelled beyond expectations, earning a spot among the top 7 by the time she reached the age of 18, making her the youngest in the group.

Sydney participated in countless missions during the years working for Ruben. Her style was like an assassin's. Her reputation grew quickly, and with it, a nickname: The Gravedigger. Before each target, Sydney partook in a ritual where she dug a shallow grave for her enemy's inevitable fate, and threw a cigarette before covering it up.

Everything changed during a mission gone wrong. Infiltrating a house to assassinate a child trafficker, a fight broke loose. In the mix of the chaos, a child was caught in the crossfire of the stray bullets. She didn't hesitate or notice until it was too late.

That moment hollowed her out. The graves she dug no longer felt like a ritual, but a confession. She sheltered herself in her room for weeks, only coming out to use the bathroom or to eat an energy bar. She was alone in a dark room for too long, unable to shake the guilt.

One day, Kaze entered her room. He poured his heart out. He missed his sister, the one who used to protect him, laugh with him, and play games with him. He reached out, begging her to be the older sister she once was. That plea struck deeper than any weapon could. Sydney went to Ruben and told him she wanted out.

He listened in silence, his expression unreadable. For a moment, she thought he might kill her for daring to leave. Ruben wasn't the type to chain people by force, but instead bound them with their own guilt and choice.

"You may walk away, Sydney. You can pretend I never existed and live your life as you please. Unfortunately, freedom has a price. Every week on Saturday, during sunrise, you must go to the graves and recite the names of everyone you've buried three times. You must do that for a year. You will remember what you are, what I made you, and you shall carry that for the rest of your life."

It wasn't mercy, it was a ritual meant to keep her chained long after she left his side. Every visit reopened a wound, every name weighed heavier on her tongue.

She knew every name by heart. Where she killed them, and how they died. The one that stung her the most was the child.

The graves she once dug to mock her enemies became her own prison.

Ruben tapped his finger on the table. "Y'know, this question lingered in my brain for quite some time. I wonder why you never contacted the OSO about these outsiders?" His voice was soft and sincere.

"It was my chance to do some good for the world. I wanted to take care of them to prove that… that I'm not a bad person."

"And who do you wish to prove?"

Sydney looked down, refused eye contact, and fiddled with her fingers. "Myself."

"You didn't contact the OSO, an organization that prepared for an event like this, because you want to prove you aren't a bad person? Quite selfish of you, Sydney. Doing a deed like this doesn't make… past sins, if you will, disappear. The guilt will persist unless you work through it. You must overcome your guilt."

"Easier said than done."

"Well," Ruben said as he tossed over a cigarette to Sydney, which she gladly caught. "You can start by assisting me with something."

"Wha—? No. I came here to tell you not to talk to Jill without my supervision. That is all." She lit the cigarette and took a much-needed smoke.

"How about this? A little deal, a favor, if you will—"

Sydney was quick to interrupt. "No. You already owe me favors. I don't need to do anything for you."

"I was hoping you could find someone for me. You are the best when it comes to searching for people. Help an old colleague out."

Ruben's genuine voice nearly threw Sydney off guard. She considered helping for a split second. However, all that was in the past. She would never slide back into those shoes.

"I can't. I won't. It's your problem. All I want is for you to stay away from Jill. And I will discuss this with her. But please, stay away." She lazily lifted the cigarette in the air. "Thanks for the smoke."

And with that, she entered the elevator, hoping she wouldn't need to have a similar conversation ever again.