Third-degree mogging.

Atmospheric winds roared through Nueva Nubes, a skyborne city of towering glass wrapped in passing clouds. Wisps of vapor curled around balconies and vanished between towers, while far below, an endless white ocean of mist stretched beneath the floating city. Hover-trains blinked into view, phasing past the upper edges of skyscrapers as their distant magnetic hum rolled through the skyline before being utterly shattered. Boom! An energy blast slammed into a floating screen, sending electricity crackling across its surface before it burst into sparks, its sharp buzz carrying through the open air. Camera and speaker drones shot upward, blurring past windows and clearing the rooftops to stabilize high above the chaos, their lenses snapping toward two distant figures.

Alright, folks! Here in Nueva Nubes, we've got two Marksmen battling it out for the ranks!” a voice boomed from the nearest speaker. The drone spun sideways as another blast whistled inches past its lens. “Marvella N’terra versus Tilden R. Cross! Two of our elite members! And hopefully you all have insurance, because this fight just became OPEN FIELD!” A blast struck the speaker drone with a harsh KZZZT! Static shrieking through the broadcast as the image tumbled wildly, scattering burning fragments toward the clouds. Another speaker drone immediately zipped into its place, continuing without a beat: “Well, there goes another three hundred grand of taxpayer money.”

Tilden R. Cross tore through the clouds, one hand locked around the handle of his blaster as he wrenched his arm back and unleashed a raging barrage of energy fire. Marvella shot backward, her body nearly horizontal as blazing streaks rained around her. She twisted through the onslaught while shots hammered rooftops, shattered drones, and punched through holographic screens in bursts of sparks and debris. One streak screamed straight toward her. Marvella snapped her left wing around, spinning out of the blast's path as it streaked past her and buried itself into a metallic neon disc hovering beside a tower with a sharp zzip-thud!

Pitching both wings upward, a sonic wave rolled across the skyline as she rocketed above the rooftops, leaving towers and clouds smearing beneath her. She leveled herself across from Tilden, her prismatic wings curving inward as liquid-chrome flames churned across their surface. The energy spiraled toward the center, swelling into a molten silver orb that bled neon-green, purple, and blue embers. Across the open sky, Tilden raised his blaster, its twin metallic muzzles glowing with a buzzing yellow light that gathered along the barrels until their edges disappeared inside the glare.

Marvella's wings flared, Tilden pulled the trigger, and both attacks erupted at once. A rainbow-streaked silver torrent ripped across the sky, colliding head-on with Tilden's blazing yellow beam. Booom! White swallowed the sky. For a heartbeat, nothing remained but a violent violet-white glare. Then, faint scanlines rippled across the flash, and the brilliant light shrank behind the black border of a massive street screen. Beneath it, a crowd packed the green plaza, their cheers rising over the battle still booming from the speakers, near the front, a familiar head of pink curls bounced above the crowd.

Myne laughed and threw both arms into the air. “Heck yeah! Heck yeah! That fight was so epic!” Her shouts fought against the roar of the celebration around her as someone nearby shouted, “Awesome crap! Did you see how clean those aerials were, bro?”

“Nah, bro!” another replied. “I was too busy watching the buildings get blasted. I don't care how destructive that was—if I got hit by one of those attacks, I'd die happy!”

Lubbock shouldered through the crowd, squeezing between raised arms and cheering bodies until someone's elbow nearly flattened his cheek. He finally stumbled free beside Myne, only for the gap to close behind him. “Okay, this place is pretty crowded,” he said, glancing back at the wall of people before turning to Myne. “Let's get out of here before somebody lights this place on fire from all the hype.

A tiny flame flickered beside him with a dual click-click.

“Huh? What was that, Lubbock?” Myne held up a lighter with a smile. “I'm about to light this place on fire from all the hype.”

Lubbock's eyes shot wide. “MYNE, NO!” He snatched her arm and hauled her away before she could put her enthusiasm into practice, slipping through a narrow opening in the crowd until they emerged onto a less congested street.

Geez...” Lubbock muttered as they walked. “We almost added arson to today's itinerary.” Beside him, Myne bounced along without a care, swinging her arms before pretending to spray an invisible rifle into the air. Lubbock sighed, asking, “You're not even listening, are you...?”

Myne spun around and walked backward in front of him, throwing her arms wide. “Did you see that fight, Lubbock? That was awesome! Those Marksmen were crazy strong!” She grinned, adding, “Man, what I wouldn't give to join the ranks myself.”

A chuckle slipped out of Lubbock. “What? You just watched those two nearly bring down one of the country's sky cities, and your first reaction is I wanna join them?”

Myne gave him a flat look. “Well, yes.” She tapped her chin with a raised finger, her eyes widening with mock innocence. “Besides, it's not like I'm powerless. I've got weapons. And my better half...” Her grin returned. “Reaper.”

Lubbock blinked. “Hold up. Did you just call a gun your better half?”

“Hey, that's my spouse that doesn't snitch. She's never ratted me out once.” Myne folded her arms with a smug grin. “Besides, you've seen what she's capable of.”

“How could I forget?” Lubbock said. “You brought that thing to a pool party because you thought blasting yourself down the waterslide would make you go faster.” His expression went blank as he recalled the memory. “You destroyed the neighbor's yard... along with their house.”

Myne whirled toward a darkened shop window, aimed a finger-gun at her own reflection, and snapped her wrist to mimic the recoil. “And that's the same weapon that's gonna make me the number-one Markswoman.”

Lubbock let out one last sigh as the celebration gradually faded into the distance behind them. Rows of brick storefronts thinned along the sidewalk, their chatter giving way to the steady hum of tires against pavement. Suddenly, several horns blared from the roadway ahead with a sharp Beep-beep! The sounds stretched into hollow echoes as Myne and Lubbock stepped beneath the concrete underpass, leaving the bright city street behind them.

Several children lingered beneath the underpass as Myne and Lubbock made their way through. Myne slowed, her eyes tracking the dirty clothes, scratched shoes, and tired faces scattered along the concrete walls. “Why are there so many kids here?”

"I don't know,” Lubbock muttered, his shoulders dropping as a child sneezed somewhere beneath the rumble of traffic. “But I can already sense tragedy coming.”

One boy stood by himself near a concrete pillar, clutching a small tin can filled with quarters. Myne and Lubbock stopped beside him, and Lubbock leaned down. “Hey, kid... what happened to you?”

The boy stared at the ground. “My father...”

Lubbock's face fell as he took in the tears in the boy's shirt and the few coins rattling inside his can. He rested a hand on the boy's messy hair. “Your father? Where are your parents...? Oh no. Don't tell me you lost them in a war, an accident, they were murdered, or you were mysteriously alone from the start?”

The boy slowly raised his head. “...My father kicked me out.”

Myne's head snapped toward Lubbock, her eyebrows shooting up. “...Well, dang"

"Why?” Lubbock asked.

The boy rubbed one scratched shoe against the other. “Because I lasted twenty minutes and fifty-seven seconds in a freezing shower when I was supposed to survive twenty-one minutes in water at negative seventy-five degrees!”

Lubbock stared at him. “You got thrown out over three seconds?"

"And I only did twenty-nine and a half pull-ups when I was supposed to do a full set of thirty,” the boy said

“Half a pull-up?” Lubbock blinked. “So that's why you got kicked out?”

"No. The final strike was when my dad caught me eating vegan food."

Myne tilted her head, her face blank. "Your dad had a three-rule strike? What did he catch you eating?"

“House salad.” The boy looked down, grinding the soles of his shoes together. “He said high-value men get their food straight from the source... by fighting an eighteen-foot, forty-thousand-pound woolly mammoth bare-handed.”

Myne's gaze drifted toward the cardboard sign resting against the concrete pillar: AGE: 6. She looked back at the boy's tiny frame. “...But aren't you six years old?”

"So was the woolly mammoth.” the boy said.

Silence crashed down between them, thick and heavy beneath the concrete arches. Overhead, the rhythmic thump-thump of tires across pavement rolled on. Myne blinked, her gaze locked onto the kid, while Lubbock opened his mouth, working his jaw silently.

"Because of all that,” the boy continued, reaching into his pocket to pull out a crumpled, folded note, “my father said I was displaying symptoms of a declining and irreversible grindset. So he officially labeled me Low-Value.”

Myne snatched the note, smoothing it out between her fingers. “But why is your dad like this?”

He started acting this way after subscribing to the influencer Alpha Male's How to Transcend to Apex-Hood in Forty Days program.” The boy leaned heavily back against the concrete wall. “And yes. That's actually what he named himself. Alpha Male.”

Myne extended a flat hand toward the kid.. “Stop right there, kid. This explains everything.”

Myne glanced at the words on the note in her hand. “Hey, kid... what do they call all this stuff? I keep hearing people talk about some hierarchy.”

"The Hierarchy of the Apex Male.” Traffic rolled across the roadway overhead, its low roar swallowing the space as the boy's voice dropped to a whisper. “They talk a lot about the Perfect System. Men being alphas. Everyone in a family or society having their roles... that kind of stuff.”

Myne's fingers slowly curled, crumpling the edges of the note against her palms. “...The Perfect System.”

The boy looked up at her. “You know it?”

Myne jerked her gaze away, staring fixedly at the dark concrete. “Yeah...” her voice dropped, flat and empty of its usual energy. “ I've heard plenty about where I'm supposed to fit.”

For a moment, only the passing cars answered. Lubbock cleared his throat, “Okay... so, kid. What are you gonna do now?”

The boy scratched at his hair. “I guess... I can always go to the Low-Value Youth Recalibration Center.”

Lubbock closed his eyes and rubbed a hand across his face, letting out a long, exhausted groan. “The worst part is, I'm not even surprised that's a thing anymore.” He pulled his wallet from his pocket and tossed it right into the boy's hands. “Take care of yourself, alright?”

The boy nodded, clutching the wallet. Myne dug through her jacket and pulled out a small box of apple juice. “It isn't much compared to what bro gave you, but... here.”

The boy's face instantly lit up. He hopped forward, snatching the juice box with both hands. Myne let out a soft chuckle. “There you go.”

The two waved goodbye as they pushed toward the far end of the underpass. Behind them, the boy stood with his apple juice, waving back until they vanished beyond the concrete shadow. The heavy roar of traffic finally faded as sunlight spilled across the pavement ahead, the harsh gray walls opening up into a wide stretch of green parkland.

Near the walkway, a small market stand sat beneath the trees as Lubbock matched Myne's pace under the rustling canopy. “Is it just me, or have you suddenly been acting differently?”

Myne took a long sip from her orange juice box, her voice muffled by the straw. “How so?”

“I'm not sure...” Lubbock said, trailing off.

“Then I guess it's just you and that suspicious collection of goth-girl pics in your closet,” Myne responded.

Lubbock snapped his head toward her, his cheeks instantly flushing. “Hey! Those are for character illustration.”

Myne stared at him. “I opened your closet once and got buried under a mountain of goth-girl magazines. I was suffocating under all that! How many pictures do you need?”

Lubbock straightened his posture. “You wouldn't understand. When it comes to character references, you can never have enough.”

Myne snorted and waved him off. “Sure, whatever.” Their footsteps continued beneath the rustling leaves for a quiet moment before her smile faded. “...But that kid, though.”

Lubbock glanced at her sideways. “Yeah? What about him?”

Myne stopped dead in her tracks. “All that ‘low-value’ and ‘know your role’ shenanigans...” Her fingers tightened around the empty juice box, crushing the cardboard with a sharp crinkle. She dropped it to the toe of her boot and kicked it into a nearby trash bin. “Everyone sure has a lot to say about what someone else should desire." Her gaze caught two young figures racing each other down the park path, ponytails whipping behind them as they disappeared beneath the trees. "...Especially when it comes to my kind.”

"So?” Lubbock asked, stopping beside her. “You're not exactly the type to listen to people."

“Which is why I'm here in the first place.” Myne started forward again, patches of shifting shade drifting across her face as she walked. “...And why I even have the chance to become something different.”

A sudden KZZZT! shattered the quiet. A television at the nearby market stand flickered on, its volume booming across the park and killing nearby conversations as people turned toward the screen.

"ARE YOU FAST ENOUGH? BOLD ENOUGH? DERANGED ENOUGH to step into the ring with the most dangerous Marksmen in the world?!” the reporter on screen bellowed.

Myne's head snapped toward the television, her eyes narrowing. “Did someone say marksman? Marksman means guns. I like guns.”

“Think you've got the firepower? The skill? The GUTS?! Well, I'm here to inform you that you definitely think wrong! But don't take our word for it! We've got a LIVE VIEW of the monsters sitting at the top!” The screen flashed, revealing ten silhouettes standing against a blinding wall of light, their features completely swallowed by the glare. The broadcast swept across each motionless figure before cutting back to the studio. “Well, would you look at that! They're not even saying anything. Just standing there… probably mocking you with those poses!” The reporter smacked the table, squinting aggressively at the camera. “If I were you, folks, I wouldn't let that disrespect slide.”

Myne's jaw dropped as she let out a sharp gasp. Lubbock leaned into her vision, waving a hand back and forth in front of her eyes. “Uh... you alright?”

Myne snapped toward him, her voice climbing an octave. “Lubbock! Did you SEE that?!” She jabbed a frantic finger toward the screen. “They just FLASH-MOGGED me!” Before Lubbock could even open his mouth, Myne turned on her heel and marched straight toward the parking lot. “This means war.”

He hurried to keep up with her sudden stride. “Wait, you're actually serious about earlier? You really want to become a Marksman?”

“Not just become one...” Myne stopped mid-step, looking back over her shoulder as a sharp grin spread across her face. “I'm coming for that number-one spot.” She clapped her hands together with a loud slap and continued toward the car. “And I'm getting my hands on those trophies! That'll be one heck of a slap in the face to the world.”

By the time they reached the convertible, Myne was already lunging for the trunk, throwing the lid open with a heavy thud. “HECK YEAH! Come to mama, Reaper!” She hauled the sniper free, easily slipping its heavy strap over her shoulder. “We're gonna turn this world upside down—zero craps given!”

Lubbock rounded the back of the car just as the weight of Reaper settled against her jacket. “Hey, slow down.”

Myne whirled to face him. “Come on, Lubbock. Don't leave me hanging. Why aren't you getting hyped?”

“And what exactly am I supposed to be excited about?” Lubbock said.

Myne flashed a sly smirk. “You think I haven't noticed? Getting into one of those sky cities.”

Lubbock froze, his foot caught mid-step as he took a slow step back. “How did you even know that?”

“We've known each other forever.” Myne rolled her eyes. “What type of bro do you take me for?” She raised a hand between them, palm flat. “Let's make a pact.”

"I'll become the first woman to reach number-one marksman...” Myne kept her hand extended, her arm completely still. “...and you get your butt into whatever sky city you're after.” Her grin softened, melted into a quiet smile. “Let's stick to it. There's nothing we can't do together.”

Lubbock's eyes lingered on her outstretched hand. Slowly, the corner of his mouth lifted. A bicycle bell rang somewhere along the park path, filling the brief silence between them before Myne raised a skeptical eyebrow. “You gonna dap me or leave me hanging?”

Lubbock chuckled, shaking his head. “Alright, alright.” He raised his hand and met hers, the slap of their palms echoing off the car.

Myne tightened her grip, locking their fingers together. “Not done. Say it with me, like old times.”

Lubbock frantically wagged his free hand side to side. “Really? We're doing this?”

Myne puffed out her cheeks, staring him down. “Wow. So what, you think our brohood is cringe now?”

Lubbock looked at her for another second, his shoulders slumping as a wide smile broke across his face. “Alright, alright. You win. Like old times.”

Their voices rang out together from behind the convertible, completely synchronized: “RIDE-AND-DIE!”

The shout carried far beyond the parking lot, spilling over the asphalt and into the neighboring park. A pair of startled squirrels shot through the grass and scrambled up a nearby trunk as the echo faded beneath the steady rustling of the leaves.