BLOODS AND CHROMES

The first rays of sunlight slipped through the cracked blinds, painting thin golden lines across the stained ceiling. The world outside was silent, muffled, wrapped in the hush of fresh snow.

Taehyung blinked himself awake, still groggy, his breath visible in the cold air of his poorly insulated apartment. He turned his head toward the window. Snowflakes drifted lazily past the glass.

"Happy New Year, Taehyung." He whispered to himself, voice rough from sleep. A new year, a new life, but same old financial struggles.

With a grunt, he pushed himself up from the stiff mattress, his back cracking like an old wooden floor. First order of business—hygiene.

The shower was… well, a glorified bucket with running water. The landlord wasn't lying; the water heater was broken. The second the icy stream hit his skin, Taehyung let out a high-pitched, undignified shriek that even the stray cats outside probably judged.

He scrubbed himself in record time, shivering like a wet puppy, then threw on his neatly pressed police uniform—the only thing in his entire life that looked put together.

Now, time for logistics. He grabbed his beat-up phone, the screen already sporting a crack in the corner from a past life crisis. He tapped open the map app and typed in the address of the Jinjahan Police Station.

One hour and twenty minutes on foot. Taehyung stared at the screen, processing that information like it was a personal attack.

"…An hour and twenty minutes? On foot? In the snow? On my first day?" He let out a breath of pure suffering. Okay. Plan B. Taxi.

He checked his pocket bag, peeking at his sad, crumpled Lyd. His soul physically left his body for a moment. "Do I eat breakfast today, or do I arrive at work with dignity?"

A deep sigh. A moment of contemplation. Then, with the sad acceptance of a man defeated by capitalism, he grabbed his coat and headed downstairs. "Goodbye, potential breakfast. We could've been so happy together."

Taehyung stood on the frozen sidewalk, hands shoved deep into his coat pockets, his breath curling into the crisp morning air. The street was already alive with movement, despite the early hour. Vendors set up their stalls, pushing carts through the fresh snow, their voices calling out breakfast deals. Workers in thick coats and worn-out boots rushed toward the tram stations, their faces half-buried in scarves. The occasional hover-bike zipped by, cutting dangerously close to pedestrians.

He sighed, glancing at his phone screen again. The taxi icon blinked. "Estimated fare: 1,250 Lyd."

Taehyung stared at the number. Then at his barely surviving wallet. Then back at the number.

"I am going to regret this."

Before he could rethink his life choices, a taxi pulled up, the neon company logo flickering on the roof. The door unlocked with a soft beep. Taehyung got in.

The seat was cold but surprisingly clean, and the air smelled like cheap citrus-scented freshener, barely masking the lingering scent of cigarettes. The driver, an older man with graying hair and tired eyes, barely glanced at him.

"Jinjahan Police Station, right?" the driver asked in a gruff voice, already pulling away from the curb.

"Yeah," Taehyung muttered, leaning his head against the window.

Outside, the city moved at its own chaotic rhythm. The lower district was a mess of narrow streets, tangled wires, and neon-lit signs in multiple languages, advertising everything from street food to sketchy cybernetic enhancements. The crowd here was a mix of Alben, Zwarten, Medean, and even a few mutants, each sticking to their usual groups.

As the taxi climbed into the central district, the scene changed. Buildings grew taller, streets cleaner, and the people noticeably richer. The morning sun reflected off glass towers, and the sidewalks were lined with security drones hovering in place, scanning everyone who passed. Taehyung sighed. It always felt like two different cities crammed into one.

Before he knew it, the taxi pulled up in front of the Jinjahan Police Station—a massive, brutalist structure of steel and glass, standing like an unshakable pillar in the city's chaos. Officers in crisp uniforms walked in and out, some chatting over coffee, others rushing to their assignments.

Taehyung reached for his pocket bag, already dreading what came next. The driver tapped the meter.

"That'll be 1,300 Lyd."

Taehyung's soul left his body. "Wait—1,300?! It said 1,250 on the app!"

"Congestion fee. Snowfall rate. Early morning surcharge." The driver rattled off each reason with the enthusiasm of a man who had long stopped caring.

Taehyung slowly handed over the money, watching in silent agony as his precious Lyd vanished into the driver's hands.

He pulled out his pocket, checking his remaining balance. 1,900 Lyd left. He blinked. Then blinked again. "…I am so screwed."

With the deadest expression known to mankind, Taehyung climbed out of the taxi and slammed the door shut.

He stood in front of the grand police station, staring up at the building that marked the start of his career.

He exhaled. "Alright, first day. Let's pretend I'm financially stable and totally got my life together."

Taehyung pushed open the heavy glass doors of the Jinjahan Police Station, stepping inside with cautious anticipation. The lobby was a cold, sterile space—grey walls, fluorescent lights, and a faint scent of burnt coffee mixed with old paperwork. Officers bustled in and out, some engaged in serious discussions, others just passing time.

At the reception desk, a woman in her late forties, with thin-rimmed glasses and a stiff bun, barely looked up from her holo-screen. Her name tag read Sergeant Lee.

Taehyung cleared his throat. "Uh, good morning. I'm Kim Taehyung. New recruit."

Sergeant Lee finally spared him a glance, then wordlessly held out a hand. Taking the cue, he fumbled through his bag and handed over his CV and assignment letter. She scanned them with the bored efficiency of someone who had done this a thousand times.

"District 6. Patrol unit." She tapped at her holo-screen. "You'll be partnered with Officer Choi Jisung."

Before Taehyung could respond, a voice came from behind him—smooth, slightly amused. "Guess that makes you my new rookie."

Taehyung turned around. Standing there, leaning casually against the nearby column, was Officer Choi Jisung—tall, probably in his early thirties, with a sharp jawline, tousled black hair, and a pair of dark eyes that seemed to be constantly assessing everything around him. His uniform was slightly unbuttoned at the top, a contrast to the strict dress code, and a lopsided smirk tugged at his lips. "Kim Taehyung, right?" Choi extended a hand. "Welcome to District 6. Hope you like chaos."

As they stepped out of the station, Choi led Taehyung straight to a black patrol car parked in the lot. The sleek vehicle had visible scratches on the sides and a dent near the front bumper—signs of past encounters with Jinjahan's underbelly. Choi tossed the keys to Taehyung. "You drive."

Taehyung blinked. "Me? But it's my first day—"

"And? Best way to learn is to throw you in." Choi smirked, sliding into the passenger seat. "Don't crash. The last rookie nearly did."

Taehyung sighed, climbing into the driver's seat. The controls were slightly different from what he was used to—Jinjahan's police cars were semi-autonomous but required manual override in rough districts. He adjusted the seat, cracked his knuckles, and gripped the wheel. As soon as he pulled onto the main road, the chaos of District 6 swallowed them whole.

For hours, Taehyung drove through the narrow, grimy streets of the city's most dangerous district. The deeper they went, the more his stomach twisted. Jinjahan's crime rate was already infamous, but seeing it firsthand was something else.

A gang fight spilled onto the road—men with knives and makeshift weapons clashed under neon lights. A woman screamed for help as a drunk Alben man cornered her against a wall.

A group of children darted through traffic, hands slipping into people's coats—pickpockets barely older than ten. Taehyung gripped the wheel. "Shouldn't we—?"

"Don't mind it, Rookie." Choi leaned back, unbothered, arms crossed. "Unless dispatch calls us in, we don't interfere. That's how things work here."

Taehyung swallowed his frustration, keeping his eyes on the road. Then—

"Stop the car."

He hit the brakes, pulling over near an abandoned warehouse. Choi stepped out, his expression unreadable.

Taehyung followed, watching cautiously as Choi approached a group of officers gathered near a restrained suspect.

A mutant man—gray-skinned, lanky, eyes glowing faintly—was pressed against the pavement, his face bruised, one arm twisted unnaturally behind his back. Two officers stood over him, batons slick with blood.

The mutant groaned, trying to lift his head. One of the officers kicked him down. Taehyung stiffened. His gut twisted, but he said nothing.

Choi lit a cigarette, watching the scene with mild amusement. "What's the charge?" he asked lazily.

One of the officers shrugged. "Existing."

Laughter. Taehyung's fingers curled into fists, nails digging into his palms. This isn't right. But he stayed silent.

Choi patted his pockets, searching for something. His fingers brushed against a few crumpled Lyd, and he pulled them out, inspecting them like he'd forgotten they were there. "Huh. Guess I've got enough."

Without another word, he turned and strolled over to a nearby street vendor, a short, elderly Medean woman selling doughnuts from a rusty cart under a flickering neon sign. The scent of fried dough and cheap sugar glaze filled the cold night air. "Two." Choi handed over the Lyd.

The woman wordlessly bagged the doughnuts, barely acknowledging him before returning to her work.

Choi returned to the car, sliding into the passenger seat. He tossed a doughnut onto Taehyung's lap. "Eat."

Taehyung blinked. "What—?"

"I know rookies like you are always broke." Choi took a huge bite of his own doughnut, grinning through the mouthful of sugar. "So consider this a reward for keeping your mouth shut back there."

Taehyung hesitated, staring at the doughnut. His stomach betrayed him first, letting out a low growl.

Choi laughed so hard he nearly choked. "Damn, you really are broke." He leaned back, smirking. "Well, if you stay quiet, maybe I'll buy you more food."

Taehyung's grip tightened around the doughnut, but he said nothing.

"Alright, shift's over. Let's go." Choi gestured for him to drive.

Taehyung stared out at District 6's crumbling streets, the flashing police lights reflecting off puddles of melted snow. He started the car. And they drove back to the station.

The patrol car rolled to a stop in front of the station, the low hum of the engine cutting out as Taehyung shifted into park. The city around them was still alive, even this late—neon lights flickered in the cold air, steam rising from the grates, the distant wail of sirens lost in the hum of traffic.

Taehyung stepped out, his body aching from hours on the road. Without a word, he made his way toward the reception desk, ready to file his report.

But before he could even reach the counter, a firm hand clapped his shoulder. "No need."

Choi, standing beside him, smirked lazily before turning to the receptionist. "Nothing happened in District 6. Same as always."

The receptionist didn't even look up, just typed it into the system without question. Taehyung felt his jaw tighten, his fingers twitching at his sides. He wanted to say something. But what would it change?

Choi let out a mocking chuckle as they stepped outside, the cold wind cutting against them like a knife. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a few Lyd.

He tossed them toward Taehyung. "Took this off the mutant. Not much, but enough to buy yourself some instant noodles."

The Lyd fluttered in the air before Taehyung caught them instinctively. He stared down at the dirty—money taken from a man who had already been beaten half to death. His stomach turned. But he said nothing.

He just pocketed the cash and walked away, his footsteps slow, dragging against the cracked pavement.

Jinjahan loomed around him—towers of steel and neon, the scent of damp concrete, the murmur of lives struggling to exist. Somewhere in the distance, someone screamed. Somewhere else, a car backfired, sounding like a gunshot. But he keep walking, didn't look back.

The buzzing neon sign of LimaMart flickered above him as Taehyung stepped through the sliding doors. The stale scent of instant food and disinfectant filled the air, the bright overhead lights making everything feel even more artificial.

He walked straight to the instant noodle aisle. Time to see how much Choi's blood money could buy. Pulling the crumpled Lyd from his pocket, he started counting. Choi had given him 800 Lyd. Taehyung sighed. It wasn't much. But it was enough.

His eyes scanned the shelves. The familiar red packaging of RasaPanas Spicy Chicken stood out—the cheapest brand but still somewhat edible. Price: 300 Lyd per pack.

He grabbed two. That left him with 200 Lyd. Maybe enough for a single boiled egg from the refrigerated section. Walking to the cooler, he checked the price tag. 250 Lyd per egg.

"Tch. Even eggs are out of my league, huh?" He muttered under his breath, stuffing the remaining 200 Lyd back into his pocket.

Defeated, he made his way to the cashier. The clerk, a bored-looking teenage girl with dyed purple hair, barely glanced at him as she scanned the noodles. "600 Lyd."

Taehyung wordlessly handed over the cash and took the plastic bag. With a final glance at the warm packaged meals he couldn't afford, he walked out into the cold Jinjahan night.

By the time he reached his tiny apartment, the exhaustion of the day weighed on him like a concrete slab.

Kicking off his shoes, he tossed the plastic bag onto his messy kitchen counter. The sink was still full of unwashed dishes from the night before, but he ignored them. Instead, he filled a rusty old pot with tap water and placed it on the cheap portable stove.

As the water slowly came to a boil, he leaned against the counter, arms crossed. His mind replayed the events of the day. District 6.

The gang fights. The harassment. The mutant beaten to the ground, bleeding into the pavement. Choi's words echoed in his head. "Don't mind it, Rookie."

Taehyung exhaled sharply. His hands clenched into fists before he forced himself to relax. The water bubbled violently.

He ripped open the RasaPanas packet, watching the dried noodles sink into the boiling water. The cheap artificial scent of spicy chicken filled the air. This was his life now. Jinjahan's newest cop. A city where silence meant survival.