The last song of the ancestors

The mountain of garbage collapsed on the mutant hyenas. There was no time for Spin Bomb and Akachi to run. Behind the bars of the gate, people screamed in vain.

Damn it! I'm going to die here. Is my grave really going to be a garbage dump?

Instinctively, Spin Bomb put both arms in front of his body in self-defense. He closed his eyes. He spent a few seconds waiting for the worst. The noise of the landslide stopped. He looked around. She felt her face and body.

"I'm alive!"

She opened her mouth in amazement. Akachi was holding her in his arms on the other side of the fence.

The locals were impressed by the stranger's speed. They hadn't seen him pick up Spin Bomb and jump over the barbed wire fence at the top. They applauded their savior.

The girl looked bewildered. She looked at the other young man who held her in his arms. Akachi kept such a serene face, as if nothing had happened.

What kind of person are you?

"How did you get through the fence so quickly?"

"I don't know, I just acted."

"Okay, but put me down."

"Sorry…"

The people around congratulated Akachi on his rescue. They patted his shoulders and stroked his dreadlocks. It was no longer safe to return to the dump. Other mutant hyenas might appear. They decided to take the road to their neighborhood.

Chrome Hill was home to Spin Bomb and the scrap metal collectors. It was a shantytown that was growing wildly on a hillside, just like other shantytowns. Some of the residents formed associations of collectors or acted alone, suffering a greater risk of being robbed during raids.

The floating freighters dumped tons of waste at the dump. There were many pieces of high-tech cybernetics that could be collected, sold, exchanged or even recovered by those who understood the subject. By doing this consistently, you could get a lot of Credbit, cryptocurrencies that circulated from wallet to digital wallet.

There were several reasons for this cryptocurrency rush. Among them, to buy more advanced cyberware, to pay the protection fee charged by the local gangs, to save enough money to leave the favela and go back and forth to Ilu Nla via the middlemen, etc.

Spin Bomb had a humbler dream: he wanted to take over his family's fireworks business and keep the tradition alive.

Along the way, Akachi and she made small talk. The young man looked up at an elevation. Two crossed sticks tied together with ribbons were stuck in the ground, indicating a grave. The boy pointed to the spot.

"Who's that over there?"

"Someone with good intentions. The problem is that hell is also full of good intentions."

Akachi stopped walking and lagged behind. Behind the sticks that served as tombstones, there was a young adult wearing a blue hooded sweatshirt. Underneath the sweatshirt was a red basketball jersey with a large number 17 printed on the chest. A tricolor cap covered the large braids of thick, curly hair. Worn-out sneakers and dark shorts full of pockets completed his outfit.

The man in the sweatshirt looked at Akachi and smiled. The boy was curious about the figure. No one seemed to notice the observer.

"Someone well-meaning, Spin Bomb?"

"I told you; he was an idealist. Come on, or I'll leave you behind."

"Idealist…"

"Yeah, he died at the hands of the Central Command, the gang that controls our slum. You see those mounds of earth covered with stones; they're tombs we make to bury those who defy the local criminal organizations. Don't follow in those people's footsteps, Akachi."

The two looked at each other. The young man noticed that Spin Bomb was twitching her lips. Something was stuck inside her. His interlocutor decided not to pursue the matter. Once again, he turned his eyes to the boy in the sweatshirt, but he was no longer there. The pair continued walking with the others.

At the entrance to the favela, there were two Central Command security guards. One of them was as young as Spin Bomb. They wore prostheses and low-quality cyberware implants. If they did their job well, they would rise in the local hierarchy and gain privileges such as money and more advanced implants.

They watched the flow of people, leaving and entering depended on their permission. To throw off the guards, Spin Bomb covered Akachi with a shabby cloak. Even so, the two crime scouts managed to notice the presence of the outsider.

"Wo-wo-wo! Who's that guy there?"

Oh, shit! Just when these guys want to get into trouble.

"He's a friend of mine, Yard."

"Look Smoke, Spin Bomb has a friend now."

"Very suspicious, Jarda. Who would want to be friends with that sucker?"

"You brat, I'm older than you."

"Yeah? And you have an anti-material rifle like this one?"

Smoke pointed the heavy caliber weapon at Spin Bomb. A weapon so powerful that only the strength of his cybernetic implants could sustain it. She swallowed noisily. A bead of sweat ran down her face.

What's wrong with my head to stand up to guys like this? I'm taking too many risks today…

Jarda grabbed the barrel of his partner's gun and pointed it at the ground. He shook his head no.

"Wait a minute, Smoke. Spin Bomb has always been nice to us. Who's this guy? Explain it to us."

He jumped up, walked towards Akachi and violently removed the cape from his head. The boy remained calm.

"Who are you, bro? I've never seen your ass around here."

"My name is Akachi."

"You look like an infiltrator, you know that?"

"I'm not an insider."

"Yeah, but that nerd you're wearing looks like a military man."

With the barrel of his own gun, Jarda hit the stranger's metallic arms. With a quick movement, he pointed the gun at Akachi's face.

"Can the bird sing? You have one minute to tell me which hole you came out of. If your plot doesn't convince me, I'll put a hole in your forehead. I hope you can sing beautifully."