SILVER: Acheron (A River of Pain) (The SILVER Series) Read Free Page B

on the outcome, and the Hunters who bring in the animals are given a commission or free merchandise—whichever they prefer.
    Making her way through streets of cracked tarmac, between rows of crumbling Old World buildings, Silver becomes aware of her own audience. Eyes watch her from windows and doorways, fascinated by the new arrival.
    Her face may look familiar to some, but the lack of a Hunter Division uniform has many residents confused. No Hunter in their right mind would dare step foot in this District without wearing their emblems. The emblems command respect, even here. The Fringers rely on the Hunters, and vice versa. Police Division Agents fare less well, but only because it’s their job to patrol the District and punish those caught violating the terms of their banishment.
    See, Omega will give you three chances. If you keep to yourself and don’t cause a fuss, you can live out your whole life here. You can meet someone, have a family, and raise your little ones in squalor and poverty. No controlled healthcare, no education system, just curbside lessons in how not to get yourself killed. It’s not ideal, but it’s better than dead, which is what you will be if you start dabbling in anything deemed overtly ‘subversive’ by Omega.
    This includes—but is not limited to—the manufacture of explosives, trading in high velocity weapons, murder, theft, cannibalism, and not paying your bills on time. Apparently, rape is okay; it’s never been on the list.
    If you’re arrested more than three times, you’ll be immediately enforced.
    Say goodnight.
    Your time is up.
    No trial, no sentencing, simply taken to the enforcement bay and shot, like a rabid dog. A corpse on the street with a self-inflicted gunshot wound through his mouth, severing his brain stem, is a reminder to Silver of the only other way out of the Fringe District.
    Suicide.
    This man didn’t even wait it out. Banishment papers still in his hand, he didn’t even make it past the first block before he gave up on whatever dismal future he had left. Crouching beside his body, Silver reaches for the banishment papers.
    Corporate fraud.
    He looks like a banker, and Silver isn’t surprised; he wouldn’t have survived a day here anyway. Tossing the papers back onto the ground, she notices his left wrist—slit open. Fresh stitches have been ripped apart, and his prison tag removed.
    Rippers.
    The black market for these ‘borrowed’ tags is huge business, and Rippers find themselves in constant demand. Fringers with three strikes on their record, and a warrant out for their arrest and enforcement, will pay any price for a clean tag.
    Silver hesitates before she checks the man’s pockets.
    Nothing.
    “You’re too late,” a voice growls at her from the street, laughing. “He was picked apart before he even hit the ground.”
    Silver looks up to find she’s no longer alone. Whether it’s the lack of emblems or the dripping bandage around her wrist, the locals seem to have realized her altered status here. Having just caught her attempting to rob a corpse, their suspicions have been validated.
    The voice belongs to a man in his mid-thirties, dirty and reeking of something rotten. He’s missing several teeth, and his pants are at least three inches too short. None of that, though, is as disturbing as the bloodstained butcher knife in his right hand.
    Standing straight up, Silver matches his height and satisfies herself that he’s not much of a threat. He’s lean, weighing no more than a hundred and fifty-five pounds. Her five-ten frame has ten pounds of extra muscle on him and she has a gun, if she even needs it.  
    Bursting her personal bubble of space, he squares right up to her, the stench of him almost making her eyes water.
    “Hunter?” he asks for clarification.
    “Not anymore.”
    He pokes the tip of his butcher knife against her bandaged wrist, assuring himself of the facts.
    “One of us, then,” he determines, with a cruel grin.