“I snagged it from the belt of a crowd control officer at the back,” Axton said, patting Zayn. He began winding the barbs back into the taser. Zayn helped Flynn to his unsteady feet.

“He was so paranoid he was gonna get caught,” Zayn said. “You should've been there! It was hilarious.” His goofy, full-teeth smile looked silly on such a rugged face.

“You'll absolutely get caught at this rate,” Flynn said, beginning to smile.

“Whatever, Flynn,” Axton said. “I don't see you coming out of here with any of those rich scene girls you were chasing after.” Flynn appreciated Axton's militaristically to-the-point attitude since it matched the man's military aesthetic, always a romantic for the old wars—no AI superpowers.

“Wait a second,” Flynn said, rapidly patting each dark pocket of his padded skinny jeans. “Where's the tablet?”

“Oh, shit,” Zayn said, immediately sobering up. “Did you drop it?”

“Drop it? You fucking tased me, dude.”

“...Did it fall?”

Massive waves crashed distantly against the concrete far below the railing.

“Fuck fuck fuck. All the money was on that Chimera,” Zayn said. Flynn saw that Zayn's knuckles were white against the steel railing. “How do we get home now? Everyone's gone! Fuckin' public transport?”

“Hold on, I'll get some help,” Flynn said. Across the promenade, under the awning of an anachronistic bus station, the same women he'd been accused of earlier seeking to court were taking turns breathing clean air at the retrofitted oxygen dispensary. He took a step in the direction of the four and immediately winced before leaning back against the railing to rub his bruised thigh.

“Oh, fuck,” Zayn said, burying his face in his hands. “We're gonna get booked by curfew patrol.” He looked wildly at Axton. “What the fuck are we doing here?”

“Calm down, Zayn,” Flynn said. “Look, she's coming to help.”

One of the women, the rainbow of her many bracelets and short, side-shaved hair complimenting the stark white of her clothes, was walking straight toward them.