#maywick

The two of you don’t talk much more as you finish up your dinner. You drop some chits into Emphis’ box and he grunts in thanks before you and Ethan take off for the evening. It occurs to you that you have no clue where Ethan lives, or why you are being so courteous as to walk him wherever he’s going next. He seems amused by this fact.

“May and I stay in our ship where we’re docked,” he explains unprompted, glancing towards the docks. “The docking fees are a bitch, but it’s better than holding up in a shipping container, eh?”

‘May’ and ‘our ship…’ you almost wish you were close enough with Ethan to tease him about the way he casually throws around the words — especially as a small, fond smirk creeps onto his lips.

“I think that’s close enough, both of you.”

Maywick emerges from the shadows, nodding at you in greeting. “You shouldn’t be seen together,” he reprimands them without much heat.

“He’s jealous,” Ethan rolls his eyes at you. “Don’t worry, you’re still my favorite sleeper,” he drawls at Maywick before peeling off. “I’m gonna take a whizz. You two assholes go on and catch up about whatever robot shit you’ve got to talk about.”

Maywick sighs as the blond man leaves, before turning to you and beckoning you to join him in the shadowy corner. 

You raise an eyebrow at him. “I thought you said we shouldn’t be seen together.”

“I just wanted to get rid of him,” Maywick shrugs. “I did want to talk with you… sleeper to sleeper.”

“Alright,” you humor him. “You have my attention.”

Maywick seems to mull over his words before speaking, his voice still distorted and croaky.

“I’m glad I didn’t succeed in killing you,” he says quietly. “You are the best of us.” 

You scoff reflexively. 

“I’m just another pawn in all this,” you insist, but Maywick waves you away. 

“Of us. ” He gestures to himself. “Among sleepers, I imagine very few are capable of what you have done. The things you have endured to prevent this station from collapsing upon itself…” 

He smiles tightly at you. It contorts the scars upon his face and neck as he swallows, weighing his words carefully.

“Sometimes,” he hesitates, “I wish I were one of those other factory sleepers. Despite everything that happened to all of you, you had each other.” 

He looks at you. “I was private military before I willingly entered the program. But I was dying from a terminal illness, and Essen-Arp thought it would be such a waste for me to grow feeble and let all that talent die. So when they offered me more time to live? You bet I took it.” 

He slips off a glove, studying his own hands. “But when I woke up, I wasn’t whole. I woke up and immediately knew I had lost the things that made me human — memories of family, food… they built me to look more human than others, but I could never pass as one of them. I wanted to be like them, and I hated the parts of me that weren't. 

“I found pleasure in hunting sleepers like you — sleepers like us. I liked the satisfaction of watching the light of their eyes extinguish. Like a star blinking out of sight forever. It helped me think that I was not like them. 

“So long as I was out on a job, I could be human. I could be whatever I wanted. But whenever I was back among other hunters, I’d be reminded that I was nothing more than a ghost. I was always alone, and I thought I liked it that way.”

He looks over towards where Ethan is clambering into a ship and cracks a smile. Ethan pauses before he enters, removing his cigarette to blow a stream of smoke out before dropping it unceremoniously to the floor.

“I never would have divided up the finder’s fee with Ethan,” Maywick states matter-of-factly. “He was a loose end to Essen-Arp and an inconvenience. So when we first saw each other again, he was ready to kill me. And I was ready to kill him.”

“Yeah…” you eye their ship. “So how does this work?”

Maywick chuckles, and it’s a choked, gravelly sound. 

“Isn’t it obvious, Sleeper?” he drawls. “It’s my charming personality and devastating good looks.”