Author’s Note: This is a short story meant to enhance Ali’s background and connection with Harry Griffin. It takes place when she is a child but of currently undetermined age. I thought this story fit her as a way to fully introduce her to Harry, but also the little surprise at the end.

Trigger Warning: Description of minor in a homeless situation and gang violence and blood. While most is not explicitly stated, there is allusion to it. Reader discretion advised if those topic are unsettling for you.

Heat blasted Ali as soon as she entered the gym. Stinky, smelly, joyous heat. The man in front of her smelled almost as bad but of disgusting drinks that adults drank and the subway—a gross and gag-worthy combination. Ali darted behind a rack filled with weights, lowering to her hands and knees, and crept to the edge to peer around.

There he was! She'd worried she'd lost him! A whiny creek split her eardrum. The patched-together droid on her back loudly mimicked her movement. It weighed Ali's hands painfully down into the poorly padded floor. He was always good at spying— when his optical lens or drives worked—but not so good at being quiet.

She turned and gave a silent shush before Thumper’s clawlike hand jammed into her cheek, searching for balance. Ali pushed the droid back, wincing as his claw scraped her cheek. Chewing her lip did little to take her mind off the newly forming bruise and scrape, so she watched her target.

That guy, with the blonde hair and glasses—aka Glasses Man. Skinny and probably not smelly like the others guys in this gym. He stood out.

High Tide had once been painted brightly on the wall, but it had faded and chipped away.

Glasses Man tapped another, bigger guy—Big Man was as good a name as any—on the shoulder. Making Big Man stop punching at the pads, a third man—Mitt Man—held. They both—Glasses Man and the Big Man—stood straight, Glasses Man was about the same height yet half the size. Oh, God! They were arguing. Ali scooted back behind the rack and took a few breaths.

Not again. Not again. She didn’t want to watch it all happen again! It always happened when people started shouting...

Thumper felt otherwise. His rusty joints squeaked on his way down to the mat; the ancient optical array couldn't zoom, but it tried so he could watch every little detail. Whirring and wheeling loud enough to call attention to them. Even the droid seemed on edge until… it didn't. Thumper relaxed into another grinding sag of its joints. Ali climbed over him to see Glasses Man punching half-heartedly at the mitts and Big Man bristling but climbing into the central boxing ring with another man.

Mitt Man smiled and laughed at Glasses Man. Like they were sharing a joke. The noise of the gym made the conversation impossible to hear.

Come on! She’d followed Glasses Man all the way here. Ali punched her leg. She needed to know what he knew! How Cassandra died. Glasses Man knew! He’d been asking questions… getting people in trouble. Leading people—the scary ones—to Cassandra!

It was all his fault!

A bench sat near the edge of the mat Glasses Man and Mitt Man were using. Scooping Thumper’s box frame into her arms, she held him close and crawled behind the bench.

"Any news?" Mitt Man asked gently.

"No," Glasses Man threw a wild punch. "Three deaths all the same. I only signed on for a missing person… Ms. Gray was looking for someone, and then she…"

Who was Cassandra looking for?

“Maybe take some lighter cases.”

"Can't," Glasses Man grunted. "It's connected, Cal."

“It’s a puzzle,” Cal—aka Mitt Man—pushed back with his mitts. “It’s getting dangerous. I think you should consider that… maybe go home… You didn’t sign up to take on the Syndicate.”

Glasses Man stopped his pathetic punches and stared at Cal, head tilted… confused.

Cal came around Glasses Man in a circle, punching out with the large mitts and trying to get a reaction out of Glasses Man. Stopping with his back to Ali. Glasses Man sighed and returned to punching. "Danger is a part of the game, Cal. Here or in Emberfield."

Glasses Man took a large swing back. But Cal ducked and threw off a mitt. He landed on the bench, snatching Ali's arm before she could yelp. "No bots in my gym, french fry." Then, turning back to Glasses Man, Cal added, "How many investigations did you do in Emberfield that ended in death?"

Ali jerked her arm, trying to break free. Thumper made to leap at Cal, but Glasses Man grabbed Thumper's arm with his now glove-free hands. "Since when does High Tide come with spies? Also, none of the cases ended like... that." Glasses Man twitched, almost like he was uncomfortable mentioning death around a kid.

"I don't know." This Cal had an iron grip. "Spies were never a feature I've tested before in a gym. Did your client have a kid?"

"No," Glasses Man knelt down to Ali's eye level. "But I've seen you before."

"Harry?" Cal let Ali have some slack, but she couldn't get far. He still had her by the wrist. "That's blood on her shirt."

Ali paused her fighting. It wasted nothing but energy that she would need. Her eyes unconsciously glanced down at the stains on her shirt visible from the unzipped part of her stolen hoodie.

“Those stains are old, not fresh. Ms. Gray was only discovered a few hours ago…” Harry—Glasses Man—flipped a switch Ali was so sure was hidden well on Thumper and shut him off and set him down. “Where did I see you… Ah! If I remember correctly, you have quite a mouth on you.”

“Where do you know her from?” Cal rolled his eyes at Ali’s pathetic attempts to free herself.

“She,” Harry hesitated, “lives two blocks over from my apartment.”

“And she followed you all the way here?”

“Clever tail.” Harry gave her a small smile. “I never noticed her.”

"You know what happened to Cassie! You… you…!" Ali broke down. Tears fell faster each time she tried to escape Cal's grip.

“Cassie?” Cal asked.

"Ms. Gray," Harry mumbled. "So, she knew my client." He picked up Thumper and inspected her boxy spare part bot. "She's smart as a whip, I bet. You build this little guy?"

Ali gathered all the saliva she had and spit. “You’re getting people killed, you dumb…”

“Ah!” Cal snapped his fingers, the shock startling Ali. “No bots and no swearing from minors. Unless you go in the ring. Then I’ll let you swear all you want if you get hit.”

“Whose blood is that…?” Harry asked.

Oh, if he wanted her name, he had another thing coming.

"You think she's smart?" Cal resigned himself to using his muscles to drag her closer despite Ali digging her heels in. Pushing up the stretched, worn hoodie sleeve, Ali grinned. He expected to find something there. Cal's stern gaze bored into hers. His finger hooked into her shirt collar next and pulled. "Blood's probably something that should be analyzed. Guarantee it's from an unsolved crime. Involving the Syndicate, huh?"

"I could have told you she was Syndicate without you..." Harry searched for the right word. "...traumatizing her. All the kids on the street in Vanguard are picked up by the Syndicate." Harry tapped on Thumper's lens. "How many of these bots do you have?"

Cal couldn’t keep his laughter down. “You think you’re gonna turncoat her? Doubt it.”

“Maybe for food, shelter…” Harry turned a sly smile towards Cal.

“Not happening. This is a gym, not a hostel. Plenty of those…”

Ali clawed at Cal’s grip. Slicing into his hand with her jagged nails. Never again. Nothing in or around Siltward was safe.

"Don't think she likes that idea too much," Harry said, pushing Thumper to her again. She had half a mind to throw the bot's body at him and run. But Thumper was her best bot yet. She couldn't lose him for such a stupid reason. "How about we talk about bending those rules, Cal."

“Not bending the ‘No Bots’ rule, Harry. That’s hard and fast.”

“Get you some clean clothes. A hot meal. And we can talk about Ms. Gray—Cassie." With a slight raise of his eyebrows, Harry softened even more.

Actual food was always a trick. One that Ali had seen enough. Kids puking up a nice lunch, gobbling it down too fast, and then taken to… The Doctor.

Cal’s grip released.

Ali panted, trying to figure out which option left her living.

Her eyes darted around the gym. Synths weren’t here, but mods were. Some stared. Angry. Hungry. Greedy.

Cal stood. "No one will touch you while you're here. I promise you that. Bot's gonna have to wait outside, though."

“Let’s start with something hot to drink, warm you up. My kid… he loves cocoa. You want… some cocoa?”

“God, you’re going to make this place a charity, ain’t ya Griffin?”

"There are worse uses for a gym. We should get her a hot shower, too."

“We should be callin’ the cops, Harry.”

“Nah.” Harry flipped Thumper’s switch back on and watched Thumper’s long boot process. “We don’t want anyone else to get hurt. The Syndicate doesn’t play nice. Even to kids. Right…?”

There was a shadow in the corner. Past the ring. Watching her every move. Damn it! Her stomach turned. Her heart slammed into her chest. She was about to be put where Cassie was. Where did they bring dead bodies? Did the ones people didn't know the name of go somewhere else?

All in, as Cassie used to say.

“Ali,” she whispered.

"Ms. Gray never mentioned you, Ali." Harry's heavy hand landed on her head. "But Ms. Gray… always seemed wary of giving much information. And… she was wary of tails. I bet she taught you a lot."

Another round of tears trailed down Ali’s cheeks. Hot and fast.

“People pay you to find other people?” Ali thought aloud.

"No one's paying me now to find answers, yet I am trying. You heard about Ms. Gray. You were tailing me. You want answers too, huh?"

"When you ask questions, those people die!"

"Think you need to be more discreet, Harry," Cal said, digging around in the bag Ali saw Harry carry in. "You want her here; the least you can do is feed her. Slowly. Protein bar?"

Thumper seemed to not care that Harry touched and poked and prodded him. “I don’t think I could have been more discreet. And I don’t know if I was the cause… I’m going to put your bot just outside the back door. Do you have a command to keep him there?”

Ali glanced at the corner again. Whatever she felt watching her had disappeared. She turned every way possible but found no sign of whatever had been watching. Everyone in the gym had returned to exercising, play fighting, or whatever it was called. Her muscles froze; she couldn't move. Oh, God, she was next! Ali's hands trembled. "You can keep me from ending up like Cassie?"

"I'll do my best, sweetie," Harry said, his voice calm.

Maybe this dork was better than nothing. "Thumper, surveillance mode."

"And I'll be back with that hot cocoa," Harry gave her a wink and pulled Thumper onto his shoulder, similar to how Ali always picked up Thumper—by one arm and slung him up to her shoulder.

“And about three minutes later, Alison stabbed me. With a coffee stirrer.”

Tim blinked. Maybe he misheard. “Stabbed you?”

“In my hand.” Harry turned his hand over, showing Tim a faint scar in the meat of his palm, near his thumb. Ok, that sounded like Alison.

He swiveled to face Alison, who was sitting propped up in bed. “That’s how you met my dad?”

Head shaking, Alison pushed herself further up. “That’s the first time Harry remembers meeting me.”

Continuing, Harry said, “And then she ran away.”

Definitely sounded like Alison.

“It’s not like it was the first time,” Harry settled back, holding the paper cup filled with scalding coffee as if his life depended on it.

“Not. The. First. Time. She. What?” The migraine was back. Tim rubbed his temples. “How…?”

“Apparently, I didn’t recognize her the first time she stabbed me. It was dark, in an alley.”

So, it was sunny and mid-day, probably out in the open, and Harry would never admit to anything else, Tim surmised. Alison didn’t add anything else.

“Lord help me. Before I hear any more stories… I need…” Tim stared into his half-empty paper coffee cup. I need…something a bit stronger than coffee.

I hope you enjoyed this little foray into Ali’s past. If you haven’t been keeping up, start Shutdown Syntax from the beginning here!

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