text: I’ve never liked Lysander City. Something about the crowded streets, the noise, and the blinding lights. It wasn’t my scene. If it was up to me I would never set foot in this urban hell. But certain circumstances had dragged me into its metallic bawls. The rain started coming down hard. I pulled up my coat’s collar and buried my hands into its pockets. I made my way through the crowded street until I saw the blue neon sign up ahead. It pulsed the word ‘Dreamland’. From what Lyrazel’s letter said this was the place where she was being held. I slowed my pace as I approached the entrance. It was guarded by a guy the size of a linebacker. I paid the giant twenty credits for admission and proceeded inside. A short, blue lit hallway led to a front desk where an old man stood. “Welcome to Dreamland,” he said, flashing me a metallic smile. “How may I, Bracer, make your dreams come true?” “I’m looking for an elf woman.” “Ah, we have many of those.” “A mech elf.” Bracer smirked. “We get off on that elf metal, do we?” His mechanical eye dilated. “I think we do have a mech elf. Give me a second to double check.” Bracer disappeared into a curtain that led to a backroom. While I waited for the old man to return I glanced around my surroundings. There were posters of nude women and men of all classes. Human. Spliced. Droid. Elf. Mech elf. The air was stale and smelled of ganja and disinfectant. Somewhere in the distance the echo of a heavy beat played on. The old man appeared again and waddled up to the front desk. “I’m afraid you just missed the last mech elf,” he said. “She’s been taken in for deconstruction.” Jesus Christ, I thought, did that mean upgrade or death? “Is that so,” I said. “Would you mind telling me who’s got her? I’d be very interested in checking out her parts.” Bracer scanned me with his mechanical eye. “You a cop?” “Hell no!” I pulled out my I.D. and handed it to the old man. It said I was a Metal Dealer which was a lie. Edgtho, an old friend of mine, was the best forger this side of the world. He even managed to encase the I.D. in palladium--the trademark of all Metal Dealers. “So you see why I want to see the mech elf.” “This is nice metal,” Bracer rubbed the I.D., and smiled wide. “You see my precious metals.” I nodded. “Noticed them the moment you smiled.” Bracer brought the I.D. to his teeth and tapped it. He handed it back. “Why elven metal?” he said. “It’s the rarest and strongest metal in existence. I could forge so many things with it and make a killing.” I paused. “We could go half and half if you want?” Bracer laughed. “My business with Mister Plume is flourishing.” “Mister Plume,” I said. “Is he the one who has the mech elf?” Bracer nodded. “Yeah. And now you know his name. Which means you’re probably as good as dead. He’s the biggest Metal Dealer in Lysander. He’s not too fond of other dealers. Still interested?” I feigned indecision for a moment. “Y-yeah, I’m still interested.” “It’s your funeral.” Bracer pushed a button behind the front desk. The whole thing opened inward. “Follow me.” &#x200B; Bracer led me through a smokey room where naked women and men, human and elf, were dancing on a stage. Then we entered a long hall filled with rooms made of paper thin walls. Moans and curses reverberated from every direction. Bracer peered into the diamond shaped window of the doors as we made our way through this disgusting tunnel. Finally, we arrived at an elevator at the end of the hall. We took it up to the penthouse suite. I imagined the penthouse suite of a seedy brothel to be a decadent piece of shit. But to my surprise the penthouse was easy on the eyes. The place was impeccably clean and smelled of champagne and dreams. To my right was a spliced human--a creature with the wings and head of a wasp and the body of a lithe woman. She was playing a soothing tune on the piano. In front of me was a small fireplace crackling by the living room area that overlooked the city. Sitting on the leather recliner was a man in a wool suit sipping bubbly. “Mister Plume,” Bracer said. “This here is--” He turned to me. “What the hell is your name?” “Cade Stahr.” “Mister Stahr,” Bracer gestured with a wave of his hand for me to walk over into the living room. “This gentleman here says he’s a Metal Dealer interested in elven metal. I’ve scanned him, sir. He’s unarmed.” Plume nooded. “Leave us.” Bracer bowed his head and started for the elevator. Plume watched me with furtive eyes as he sipped his drink. “May I interest you in a flute of Tattinger?” he said. I accepted his offer. “I’ve never heard of you before,” Plume said, handing me a flute of champagne. “And I keep myself updated on all Metal Dealers.” “I’m rather new to the profession,” I sipped my drink. It was delicious. “I’ve only recently started up.” “Surely not here in Lysander.” “No, not here. Out in Jersey.” He grimaced. “Ah, the wastelands. Well, I suppose we all have to start somewhere.” He brushed off some dust from his shoulder. “Bracer says you’re interested in elven metal. What makes you think you’ll find that here?” “Well, Bracer said that he had a mech elf and--” “I must have misspoke,” Plume interjected. “What I meant was, why would you come to a brothel in search of elven metal?” I took another sip of the champagne. “Elfheim is far from here. I don’t have money for air travel to get there. So, to be honest, I thought, where could I find some elven metal? And it hit me. A brothel. Best place for me to find an elven whore who I could just knock out and steal her metal parts.” “So your plan was to damage my property and get away with the goods.” “Well, when you put it like--” Plume laughed. “I admire your bravado. That’s something I would have done myself back in the day. Let me ask you. Where do you plan to deal your metal?” “Jersey.” “Excellent. And what about Lysander City?” I shook my head. “I have no intention of stepping foot here. I can’t stand this city.” “Fantastic.” Plume took a large gulp of his drink. “I’ll tell you what. Since I admire your dedication I’ll personally show you my mech elf. And maybe I’ll give you some of her metal.” He smiled. “Keep this in mind. If you *ever* step foot in Lysander City after tonight, I will kill you. Do you understand?” “Loud and clear.” “Perfect.” Plume stood up and walked over to the spliced woman by the piano. She got to her feet when she saw him walking toward her. “Wispa, I’m going to show our new friend here some merchandise,” he said, putting an arm around her thin waist. “But I won’t be long in returning for our lovely evening.” Plume leaned in and kissed her. Wispa’s wings began to flutter. Then he turned to me. “Mister Stahr. Please, this way.” Plume led me to a wall where pictures of him in various parts of the world were hanging. He reached out and pressed down on the frame that depicted him standing on a mountain. The whirring of gears behind the wall began to croak. “Have you ever laid with a spliced woman?” he said. I shook my head. “You must. They are wild. Take Wispa over there. Something about those large insect eyes of hers. Drives me feral. And don’t get me started about that stinger of hers.” A bell chimed to my relief. The wall slid open revealing an elevator. Plume and I stepped inside. He pressed the Lab button. It was a long way down. I only hoped this man wouldn’t tell me some crazy sex story. &#x200B; I was grateful when we arrived at the lab. Plume didn’t say a word the whole way down. Instead he looked at me with hungry eyes. I couldn't tell what was on his mind. Whatever it was I didn’t like it. Edgtho had briefed me on Plume. From what he told me, Plume was a sadistic and twisted freak. It was a well known fact that Plume had killed his older sister when he was fourteen and desecrated her corpse just to get off. Rumor had it he kept her eyes in a jar somewhere to remind him of the thrill. He instructed me to follow him with a wave of his hand. The lab was immense and devoid of dust. Chrome walls, chrome floors. Light seemed to emanate from the floors and walls themselves. There were computer monitors attached to large glass exhibits that contained various metals. Some of these displayed metals were more art exhibits than storage. There were unicorns made of metal, humans posed in sexual positions, and weapons ranging from guns to swords. “Beautiful, aren’t they?” Plume said. “They’re debuting at the NuMoMA next month.” We continued our way through these exhibits until we came across a glass enclosure that nearly killed me. Displayed here was a woman suspended in the air by chains wrapped around her wrists. Her head rested on her chest. Her long pink hair draped over her exposed breasts. Her pubic area was there for all to see. And her thighs dangled in the air; her mechanical legs rested on the exhibit floor. It was Lyrazel. “God, isn’t she gorgeous,” Plume said. “Her legs are one hundred percent elven metal; indestructible. We’re going to see if we can remove the metallic parts that have been embedded into her head. It’s a tricky process. I don’t want to ruin her beautiful pink hair.” I remained silent. It took everything I had inside me to restrain myself from pummeling Plume to death. Plume chuckled. “Ah, I see the mech elf has you speechless. These creatures are majestic.” He smiled. “Don’t fret. She’s not dead. Mech elves are more radiant alive than dead.” “How long has she been like this?” “A few hours. It would seem you arrived just in time.” “In time for what?” “In time for you to enjoy her before she becomes a permanent work of art.” Plume grinned. “I saw the way you looked at her. You get off on metal, don’t you? My, my, don’t we all have a vice.” He placed his arm around my shoulder. “Tell you what, Mister Stahr. Why don’t I have my boys fix her up and send her to one of my hotel rooms. There you can have your way with her. After, you can tell me what part of her you’d like to take. And we’ll negotiate.” I nodded. “That sounds great.” “Excellent. Of course, you’re willing to pay for her company.” “Absolutely. Name your price.” “I love those words.” Plume said. “She’s a rare specimen. Let’s say five thousand credits.” “You have yourself a deal.” I wired Plume the five thousand credits in real-time. “A gentleman and a scholar,” Plume snapped his fingers. A couple of lab techs came running. “Boys, if you could be so kind as to fix up our Lady Elf here and send her to room 2020.” He paused. “Oh, Mister Stahr, would you like us to sedate her? Mech elves are rough and may not submit to you.” “No. I like it rough. I want her at one hundred percent.” “My boy!” Plume said. “I’m beginning to like your style.” He looked at the lab techs. “Boys, you heard Mister Stahr. Get on it.” He pulled out a keycard from his jacket pocket. “Here’s the key to room 2020. Your Lady Elf will be in to relieve you momentarily.” &#x200B; In the hour that had gone by all I did was pace back and forth in that damn hotel room. I began to wonder if Plume had seen through my facade and had either killed Lyrazel or was sending an assassin to dispatch me. I hated myself at that moment. I should have killed Plume, I thought, and gotten Lyrazel out of that hell. There was a knock at my door. I walked over and opened it. Standing before me were two henchmen who had clutched Lyrazel by each arm. They shoved her into the room, wished me luck, and left. When I shut the door and turned around I had to duck to avoid Lyrazel’s left hook. “Whoa, Lyrazel, it’s me,” I said, grabbing hold of her right arm. “It’s Cade.” Lyrazel stopped for a moment and looked at me. “Cade,” she said. “Oh, my God.” She threw herself into my arms. “What’re you doing here?” “I came for you,” I said, holding her tight. She lifted her head from my shoulder and looked at me. Then her warm lips pressed against mine. My entire body felt electric as I held her and kissed her harder. “Wait,” Lyrazel said. “How’d you know I was here?” “Your letter.” “What letter?” “The one you wrote to me.” I pulled out the letter from my jean pocket. Lyrazel snatched it from my hand and read it. “What the hell,” she said. “I didn’t write this. I mean, does this sound like me.” She read the letter aloud. *My Dearest Cade,* *I find myself in serious trouble. I know we haven’t spoken in three years. I wanted to marry you. I did. I was afraid that you’d grow tired of me. That’s why I left when you proposed. I know I have no right to ask you for help. But there’s no one else I can trust. If you can find it in your heart to forgive me, I am being held hostage in Dreamland in Lysander City. My time is running out.* *Forever Your Love,* *Lyrazel* “Well, I thought maybe time had softened you up.” I said. Lyrazel shook her head. “You didn’t really believe that, did you?” “I guess I wanted to.” Lyrazel smiled. “So, if you didn’t write that letter, who did?” “Oh, I’ll tell you who did,” she said, taking off her moto jacket. She flexed her left arm’s bicep, enlarging the tattoo of the sprite she had. “Pucka, you better get out here right now!” In the blink of an eye the sprite tattoo jumped off her bicep and began floating around in the air. It was nothing more than a glowing tennis ball sized orb of light with wings. “Did you write this letter, Pucka?” Lyrazel said. “I did.” I heard Pucka’s voice in my head. “Why would you do that?” “You needed help,” Pucka said. “And your heart and mind kept thinking of Cade.” “W-what?” Lyrazel blushed. “That’s not true.” “You only lie to yourself.” Lyrazel sneered. “You shoulda just called the cops.” Pucka hovered around Lyrazel. “They wouldn’t have saved you.” “Why Cade?” “He loves you and you love him.” Lyrazel looked at me. “That’s enough of your talk. Time for you to fly back.” Pucka obeyed Lyrazel and resumed its tattoo form again. “Wow,” I said. “Shut up,” Lyrazel said. “I know what you're thinking.” “That I received a letter through magic,” I smiled. “I’ve never received a magic letter. It’s pretty cool.” Lyrazel shook her head. “How long do you think before Plume’s men come to kill us?” “I don’t know. Maybe they’ll give us ten minutes; maybe thirty.” “More than enough,” Lyrazel said, taking off her halter top. She grabbed me, kissed me, and led me to the bed. &#x200B; Due to his hedonistic nature, it became clear Plume wouldn’t do anything to us until we left the room. Therefore, we took our time to strategize the best way to get the hell out of Lysander alive and in one piece. While Lyrazel leaned on the room’s balcony to take in some air, I couldn’t help but look at her. Her pale complexion, those pink locks, along with her azure eyes and pointy ears. She was as beautiful as the day I met her back in Jersey. Pucka was right. I did love her. And I’d be damned if I was going to let some lunatic cause her anymore harm. I joined Lyrazel out on the balcony. The night air was chilly as it carried the city’s soundtrack of sirens, holographic advertisements, yells, and vehicle horns. “You still planning heists?” she said. I shook my head. “I already reached my quota.” She smiled. “Listen, thank you for helping me.” “You don’t have to thank me.” I paused. “How’d you end up here anyway?” “Wrong place, wrong time,” Lyrazel said. “I was working a job for a guy named Erl--my last job. To kill Plume and steal his metals for Erl. Had I succeeded in it I would’ve reached fifty million credits and been able to leave this city for Elfheim. But Erl had other plans. I didn’t know it then but the asshole struck a deal with Plume. Turns out Plume paid Erl one hundred million credits to own me. When I got here I was ambushed and drugged. Then I was put to work as a strumpet until Plume returned from a business trip in Londinium.” I’d heard of Erl. The criminal kingpin of Lysander they called him. He was found dead in his rooftop mansion a week ago. I told Lyrazel. “I’m not surprised,” she said. “Plume killed him I’m sure. A guy like Plume doesn’t pay anybody. He just takes what he wants. But I’m glad Erl’s dead.” I held Lyrazel’s hand. “When we get out of here I’ll help you return to Elfheim.” I couldn’t believe she wanted to return to her homeland. The last thing she’d told me about Elfheim was that it was filled with elfish pricks with sticks up their asses. And since she was a mech elf--a hybrid designed only for battle--the pure elves treated her like garbage. She shook her head. “No, I don’t want to return there anymore.” She stared into my eyes. “For a long time now I have always made excuses to keep myself from being happy. I guess because I was afraid I would only be a disappointment. The truth is Pucka is right. I love you, Cade. I’m incomplete without you.” She looked at her mechanical legs. “I don’t even know if I have a soul or if I’m just a machine. But what I do know is if I don’t have a soul then my soul starts with you.” “I love you, Lyrazel,” I said, and meant it. “I don’t believe I had a soul until I met you. And the only thing I want in life is to grow old with you.” Lyrazel smiled. “You know elves age much slower than humans, right?” “I’m aware,” I chuckled. “Good job killing the mood.” She laughed. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it.” We kissed and held each other for some time. Then we got ready and headed out of the room. &#x200B; We made our way down the hotel hall when we heard the chime of the elevator. Bracer and the two henchmen from before appeared. The old man was unarmed; the henchmen were armed with semi automatics. “Mister Stahr,” Bracer said. “Mister Plume regrets to inform you that he is relinquishing on your deal.” As the old man spoke I pulled out my pen--a souvenir from my last heist. “Are you going to write them a check?” Lyrazel said. “Not quite.” I clicked the pen and its tiny internal gears began spinning and building until the pen had become a full sized katana. “Impressive,” Lyrazel said. “But can it beat this?” She stomped her mechanical foot on the ground activating the thousands of microscopic pneumatic actuators within her elven metal. They rapidly worked in unison to produce two semi automatic pistols from her calves. Lyrazel never failed to surprise me. Those elven engineers were something else. “Clever, Mister Stahr,” Bracer said, grimacing. “And you, strumpet. Mister Plume inspected your legs. No weapons were there before.” “They were always there,” Lyrazel snarled. “Elven metal only works for the elf blooded.” “Good to know.” Bracer smirked. “My turn.” Bracer pulled out a large syringe and stabbed himself in the neck with it. Within moments the old man’s skin had hardened into metal. His entire body exploded in muscle so that he looked like a wrestler on steroids. He roared, and started for us. His henchmen opened fire. Lyrazel shot them both simultaneously in the head. She then fired at Bracer but her bullets were no match for his metallic skin. I took up the Ko Gasumi No Kamae stance. As Lyrazel continued to open fire, Bracer rushed toward me. I waited until he was within inches of me before plunging my blade straight into his heart. The tackle had still knocked me back a few feet and taken my breath away for several seconds. Slowly, I stood up feeling the pain of his hit on my ribs. He’d managed to fracture a few of them. “Cade!” Lyrazel ran to my side. “Oh, my God. Are you okay?” “Yeah,” I said, groaning. “You gave him a death blow.” I looked over Lyrazel’s shoulder and saw Bracer had regressed to his former self. My blade was sticking out of his back. “How’d you pull that off?” Lyrazel said, helping me stand. “The blade was made specifically for slicing through metal.” I said. “I figured if I was going up against a Metal Dealer--” Lyrazel smiled. After I retrieved my katana, Lyrazel and I headed up to the penthouse suite to say our farewells to Plume. &#x200B; “Ah, have our guests expired,” Plume said, staring out the window. Wispa was pinned up on one of the room’s walls. The sick freak had sliced her throat, clipped her wings, and tore her stinger. Plume was wearing a silk bathrobe and vaping. He turned around. His entire body was covered in welts. “Oh my,” he said, taking a hit of his vape pen. “Looks like I underestimated you two.” He peered over at the corpse. “Things got a little rough.” He chuckled. “I have you to thank for that, Mister Stahr. Your comment earlier really got me going.” “You’re sick!” I said. “Yes. Sick for pleasure.” Lyrazel aimed her guns at Plume. “Any last words before I send you to hell?” “A few.” he said. “My business trip to Londinium was a fortunate one. The Prime Minister of Elfheim was there. He and I chatted. And then he granted me Elven Sanctuary.” “What?!” Lyrazel said, agog. “How the hell did that happen?” “The Prime Minister loves a good pounding.” “You’re despicable,” Lyrazel said. “My dear,” Plume said. “If you open fire on me it would be considered a declaration of war for those in Elfheim.” He chuckled. “Besides, even if you wanted to shoot me you couldn’t. Your weapons are of elven make and will refuse to fire on an individual given Elven Sanctuary.” “You’re right,” Lyrazel said. “Except that law only applies to pure elves. I’m a mech elf; not pure.” Plume’s calm facade, for the first time, wrinkled in panic. “W-wait--” Lyrazel squeezed her guns’ triggers and unleashed a fury of bullets that sent Plume flying out the window. His scream echoed in the night as he plunged toward his death. &#x200B; We left Plume’s twisted hotel-brothel and walked a few blocks to where I had parked my car in an alley. I started up the ignition. I placed the car into gear and began driving out of Lysander City. When we turned onto the Sunrise Expressway, Lyrazel interlocked her fingers with mine and rested her head on my shoulder. I held her hand tight, and never saw the shadow of ever letting go.