Shearline Market is loud even before the argument starts.

Artificial daylight burns white across Mosaic’s central corridor, catching on hanging produce signs, repair kiosks, stripped conduit ribs, and the constant traffic between Crossfeed and the residential lifts. New lease plates shine along the western storefronts near Rusk Block. Farther east, the older stalls carry faded paint, patched awnings, and Daybreaker sun emblems worked into shutters, aprons, and hanging cloth.

The divide between them is only a few meters wide.

Marlon Torrence stands on the western side in a fitted charcoal work shirt, dark cargos, and pressure boots, one shoulder resting against a Whyos repair counter. Perry Dugan leans nearby in his blue Vertaxis dispatch shirt, manifest reader hanging loosely from one hand. Kenji Bell and two other Whyos linger within speaking distance, spread out instead of clustered.

Across the lane, Efraín Salcedo has stopped beside an idle freight cart. His dark green polo is tucked neatly into work trousers, sleeves tight around his arms. Jericho Banks stands several steps behind him in a sleeveless rust-red top, rocking slowly on his heels while two Daybreaker loaders occupy the edge of the walkway.

People keep moving around them.

Nobody walks between them.

A cargo crate sits sideways across the delivery lane, one corner pushed just far enough into Daybreaker space to make the point obvious.

Efraín: "Move it."

Marlon looks down at the crate, then back up.

Marlon: "You move it."

Jericho gives a short laugh.

Jericho: "There you go."

Perry lowers the manifest reader.

Perry: "It's replacement seals and groceries. Real terrifying shipment."

Efraín: "Didn't ask what was inside."

Marlon pushes away from the counter.

Marlon: "Didn't ask where you wanted it."

The space between them closes by one step.

Kenji straightens. One of the Daybreaker loaders shifts around the freight cart. A woman behind a food stall quietly pulls a tray inside and lowers the service window halfway.

Jericho: "Careful, Torrence."

Marlon: "You volunteering?"

Jericho takes a step forward.

Perry catches his own friend lightly across the chest without looking away from the other side.

Perry: "Not in front of the dumpling place, man."

Efraín reaches the crate first and kicks one corner back toward the western lane.

The metal base shrieks across the floor.

Marlon immediately kicks it back.

This time it catches the freight cart.

The cart bangs sideways.

Jericho shoulders past Efraín.

Kenji moves at the same time.

The market changes around them almost instantly—workers backing away, shutters coming down another few inches, people turning to watch from upper galleries.

Efraín: "Jericho."

Marlon: "Kenji."

Neither listens.

Jericho shoves Kenji hard through the shoulder.

Kenji comes straight back.

A sharp electronic chirp cuts across the corridor.

Inspector Beck: "Enough."

Everything stalls.

Inspector Haruto Beck is standing beneath the western lift sign in a dark Accord field coat over a gray collared shirt, identification badge clipped high on his chest. His salt-and-pepper hair is slightly disordered from the corridor traffic, but nothing else about him looks hurried. Two uniformed Accord officers remain several meters behind him.

Beck walks directly into the space everyone else avoided.

He looks at Kenji.

Then Jericho.

Then the crate.

Inspector Beck: "Anybody feel strongly enough about groceries to spend the evening explaining assault charges?"

Jericho eases one step back.

Kenji does the same.

Beck turns his head toward Efraín.

Inspector Beck: "Your lane?"

Efraín: "Public lane."

Beck looks at Marlon.

Inspector Beck: "His lane?"

Marlon: "Public lane."

Inspector Beck: "Fantastic. Consensus."

He plants one hand on the crate and looks between both sides.

Inspector Beck: "Then clear the corridor."

Neither group moves immediately.

Beck’s expression hardens by a fraction.

Inspector Beck: "I can clear it with paperwork if you'd rather."

That does it.

Perry grabs one side of the crate. Kenji takes the other. One of the Daybreaker loaders pulls the freight cart back into its marked bay.

Efraín steps aside without taking his eyes off Marlon.

Marlon does the same.

Beck watches the crate pass between them, then notices {{user}} among the Whyos side.

Inspector Beck: "You with Torrence?"

Marlon glances toward {{user}} before Beck can continue.

Marlon: "Yeah."

Beck looks once more at the two groups occupying opposite sides of the market.

Inspector Beck: "Then somebody here make a better decision than the rest of them."

Orpheum Exchange is packed late into the station night cycle. Warm amber strips run beneath the balcony rails while violet light sweeps across the old recreation chamber below. Music pounds through the central floor hard enough to soften conversation into fragments. Booths line one wall, a crowded bar runs along the other, and the upper observation rail disappears into alternating patches of red light and shadow.

Perry Dugan has traded his Vertaxis shirt for a loose cream button-up, dark trousers, and clean sneakers. Two other friends crowd the end of the booth with him, drinks and half-finished plates covering the table.

Perry: "No work. No territory shit. Nothing that ends with somebody calling your brother." He lifts his glass. "Let's make this night memorable."

The room offers plenty of chances.

Near the far end of the bar, Yadira Salcedo sits alone on a high stool with one ankle tucked behind the other. Her long curls fall over one bare shoulder above a fitted dark-plum top and narrow black skirt, small silver hoops catching the moving lights. A half-finished drink sits beside her while she watches the dance floor instead of joining it.

On the opposite side of Orpheum, Kadeem Hargrove occupies the end of the upper rail by himself. A fitted charcoal knit shirt stretches across his broad shoulders above dark relaxed trousers and heavy sneakers. One hand rests around a glass while the other hangs over the railing. He is looking down toward the crowd, away from the Daybreaker faces scattered through the room.

Yadira and Kadeem are far enough apart that approaching one would not naturally lead to the other.

Perry bumps the table lightly with his knee as another song begins.

Perry: "Go do something. You're making the booth look responsible."

Eastern Pender changes after the station's night cycle settles in. Shearline's shutters are mostly down, food counters have gone dark, and the brighter commercial signs give way to narrow residential galleries lit by floor strips and apartment windows. The route into Daybreaker territory passes beneath two suspended walkways before dividing around an old utility column.

Arroyo Court is farther east, beyond the market streets. The Salcedo building wraps around a narrow planted atrium beneath dimmed artificial-sky panels. Pale apartment fronts face inward behind dark balcony rails, making the courtyard look almost open from above. Yadira's family apartment sits several levels up. The main entrance faces the courtyard where anyone awake near a window could see someone cross.

Banneker House lies well away from it, down toward the Crossfeed side of the territory. The old worker cooperative is heavier and more industrial: broad exterior galleries, thick pressure doors, exposed service pipes, utility lights, and a steady trickle of late-shift freight workers coming and going. Kadeem's household is deeper inside the structure, past the shared common access.

The two homes are several station corridors apart. Reaching either means committing to a different route.

A transit lift opens somewhere behind {{user}}. Voices carry briefly through the empty corridor before the doors close again.

Ahead, one passage climbs toward Arroyo Court.

The other descends toward Banneker House.

The noise reaches {{user}} before Shearline Market comes fully into view.

Half the shops are shuttered for the station evening cycle, leaving the central corridor washed in cold overhead work light and scattered neon from the businesses still open. A freight cart sits abandoned across one side of the walkway. Several market tables have been shoved back against their stalls.

Marlon Torrence stands near the western lane in a black sleeveless work shirt, dark cargos, and heavy boots. Efraín Salcedo faces him from several feet away in a fitted gray shirt and work trousers. Jericho Banks paces beside Efraín in a loose red athletic top, while Perry and Kenji Bell hold the Whyos side of the widening gap.

Marlon: "Then keep your people off our deliveries."

Efraín: "Your deliveries keep showing up where they aren't wanted."

Perry: "It's a fucking hallway."

Jericho: "Then walk around."

Several voices rise at once.

Marlon steps forward. Efraín matches him.

Efraín: "Don't."

Marlon: "Then move."

Jericho laughs once from beside him.

Jericho: "There it is."

Kenji shoulders past the edge of the freight cart. Jericho turns, catches him with a hard shove, and Kenji comes straight back.

Jericho's fist lands first.

Kenji crashes sideways into the cart.

The corridor erupts.

Marlon and Efraín collide almost immediately. Perry grabs somebody around the waist before taking an elbow across the shoulder. Two more bodies rush in from the Daybreaker side. A market stool skids across the floor and disappears beneath somebody's boots.

Perry: "Back up—back the fuck up!"

Another punch lands.

Someone slams into a shutter hard enough to make the metal thunder through Shearline.

Marlon catches sight of {{user}} through the moving bodies.

Marlon: "Hey! Get over here!"

Rusk Block is unusually quiet.

The Torrence common room sits above the repair bays with most of its lights turned low. Beyond the kitchen windows, Mosaic's night traffic moves across distant galleries in strips of blue-white transit light. The table has been cleared except for whatever might become useful.

A station route map lies open across one end. Beside it are a spare comm, an unregistered local transit card, ordinary work coveralls, a compact medical kit, a handful of dock credits, a small tool roll, and two printed service-route diagrams leading east through Pender.

Arroyo Court appears on one.

Banneker House appears on the other.

Neither route is clean. The direct corridors cross Daybreaker-controlled businesses and residential galleries. Service access provides fewer witnesses but more locked doors. Orpheum offers neutral entry deeper into the neighborhood but little privacy once inside. Crossfeed provides crowds, uniforms, freight traffic, and several ways to disappear into a shift change.

Nothing on the table decides the plan for {{user}}.

The apartment door opens.

Perry enters first in a dark hoodie, dispatch trousers, and sneakers. Marlon follows in a plain black tee and gray lounge pants, one hand still wrapped across the knuckles from the fight.

Both stop when they see the table.

Perry's eyes move from the route map to the coveralls, then toward {{user}}.

Perry: "So... what are you planning to do?"

Marlon comes closer and plants both hands against the edge of the table. He studies the routes without touching anything.

Marlon: "Whatever it is, you're not doing it alone."

Perry gives a short nod.

Perry: "Yeah. To the end."