Other kinds of violence

Try as he might, Ivo couldn't distract himself from the progress of time. They moved through the apartment as they got ready for the gig, talking among the four of them and Yunmi on the speakers. There was a lot of laughter, which surprised him.

He had expected everyone, even Alina, to become serious as the hour drew near, but that didn't happen. Quite the opposite her laughter grew looser, and even stoic Davi cracked a joke or two.

Ivo didn't understand what was happening until Thiago outfitted him with green contact lenses, that would serve the dual purpose of helping disguise him, while giving him access to an overlay similar to that of the optic implants translation of the datachip's operating system.

"Very outdated, though," Thiago warned. "This is old tech, nobody uses it anymore, but me and Yunmi have been tweaking it, it should let you see a map of the building, escape routes, heat signals and electromagnetic fields to suss out enemies..." He smiled at Ivo and bumped him on the shoulder with his closed fist. "You won't get killed on our watch."

There was a heavy, sombre lull in the conversation and then the laughter resumed after Yunmi made a joke about so many body bags leaving Sashimi that maybe they could sneak out in one.

Ivo understood then it wasn't that they weren't taking the gig seriously. It was deathly serious, but the laughter was a reminder that no matter what, they weren't dead yet.

---

According to Alina, the trick to a good disguise was making it look believable. No point in calling more attention to yourself with an incongruous look. Ivo saw the wisdom in that as he looked at himself in the mirror, with the green contacts in and a red wig on.

"It's the freckles," Alina said, nodding at Ivo's reflection. "They tie everything together. Now you look nothing like the guy in the security footage, but you also don't look like you're trying to be someone else."

Ivo wasn't so sure. Alina was right that the curly ginger wig fit him as well as his wavy brown hair, but when Ivo looked at the mirror he didn't recognise himself. It made him feel woozy, like the vertigo of stepping out on the edge before a great leap.

He had so little to hold on to. He hated the unmoored feeling of not even recognising his own face.

Davi watched him from Alina's bed with a critical eye after she left to get ready herself. "It's passable, but you'll have to sell it," he told Ivo.

"How am I going to sell it?" He asked his own reflection, tugging the wig this way and that until it laid flat over his forehead.

"Remember your role. Your life is in the hands of a lux cunt who didn't even bother to fit you with translating software, you don't understand anything being said around you, but at the same time you're eager to please, because you don't want to be punished."

Ivo glared at his own reflection. "This is all so fucked up."

From the bed, Davi chuckled mirthlessly. "It is, but you can't let Kuroda see that. And you gotta be prepared for all the other fucked up shit you'll see in Sashimi." Davi got up from the bed and walked up to Ivo. Their eyes met across the mirror. "You can look scared, but you can't look disgusted."

"Are all lux like that?" Ivo asked Davi's reflection, watching him attentively over his shoulder.

"Most of them. Some of them might say they aren't but they just abuse us in different ways."

Ivo nodded. "Other kinds of violence." He understood. Or thought he did. He still wasn't sure if the lux were human, and was afraid to ask. Afraid of what that might mean for himself.

"The violence, exactly. Remember that. No matter what, don't hesitate. Remember they started the violence. Vital is a worm of the worst kind, but guys like him only exist because the lux made it possible."

Ivo nodded again. He got the message. They weren't supposed to be caught this time, but not every gig would be like that. And if Ivo wanted to stay, there would come a time where he'd have to choose between his life and a lux's and he shouldn't waver.

Davi came closer. His gaze never leaving Ivo's through the mirror. He placed his right hand on Ivo's shoulder and squeezed softly. "You'll be fine."

"I'm not worried," he said, even though it was a lie.

Davi grinned, one of his rare genuine smiles that showed his sharp little canines. Maybe he knew Ivo was lying, but he wasn't going to call him out on it. He squeezed his shoulder again. "Get dressed, I'll be waiting in the living room."

The warmth of Davi's touch lingered long after he'd left the room.

---

It was Alina, in the end, who underwent the biggest change.

In the low, moody light of the self-driving cab taking them to the helipad, Ivo could barely recognise her. The colour of her cat-green optics had been changed to a deep brown, and her tiny white braids had been replaced with luxurious, brown curls that fell down her shoulders in thick waves.

Her clothing was sober, but elegant, a billowing silk dress that covered her entire body, and more importantly, her ink, but left tantalising areas of bare skin just above her lower back, and under her chest.

It was unnerving that she could look so little like herself.

"You're staring," she told Ivo. Even her voice sounded wrong coming out of burgundy lips, when she usually favoured bright pink lipstick.

"Sorry, it's just that you look...," he searched for the right word.

"Like a fucking idiot?"

He smiled. Now that sounded just like Alina. "Yeah, kinda."

"You look pretty stupid yourself."

Ivo grimaced. Unlike her, he was wearing almost nothing beyond a pair of slinky shorts and lace-up boots. It made him feel ridiculous, and worse, vulnerable.

"You both look nice," Davi said, with a wry twist to his lips, at the same time the cab came to a stop. He met Ivo's eyes with a little encouraging nod. "We're here."