Judge 001833, Untitled, Designation Tide-Seer, has landed at Crislend Starport. His stay should be brief—refueling before continuing his mission to rendevous with Praetor Spiro of House Argent. We have word Sunwin is to send him into the Lost Reaches. Do not antagonize him. Do not provoke him. Cater to his needs.


    He may be young, but those Judges are the most terrifying from sheer talent. And Baron Moss, for the love of everything, keep quiet about the eggs. We are almost ready to claim the Inferose.


    Now is not the time to jeopardize it all. Be extraordinarily careful. He may only be a half-Seer from the fallen House Vermillion, but that won’t stop him from sniffing you out. Remember, your life guarantees your family’s sovereignty in Newlends.


    Die with pride, Moss. The future has just begun.


    <ul>


    <li>


    Anonymous letter to Baron Moss of Crislend, Year 3993, August 11th.


    </li>


    </ul>


    Dante and Joan stumbled through puddles, their boots splashing as they made their way to the shabby door of a cheap hotel hidden among the endless neon lights of the nightless megacity. It was challenging to stay unseen while they traversed the streets, but they both had plenty of experience. By the time they reached the entrance, they were drenched—soaked through by rain mixed with blood.


    The rising sun had done little to ward off the relentless downpour. Dante paused, hand raised to knock, then hesitated. His paranoia warred with his ambition. He tilted his head, listening for sounds inside.


    With a sharp glance at Joan, Dante stated, “I don’t hear anything.”


    The ‘doctor’ crossed her arms and lifted her eyebrows, but a sharp voice from down the hall interrupted her before she could speak.


    “Where the hell have you been? And who’s that?” Sonna stormed toward them, her slight frame shaking with irritation. Dante could almost swear he saw wisps of smoke emanating from her like a toy train. Rejo loomed behind her, his bulk only slightly obscured by her presence.


    Dante sighed, rapping on the door anyway as he opened it. He was too tired for this, and it wasn’t even noon.


    “I was out recruiting help,” The man nodded to his growing crew, stepping aside to introduce Joan. “This is Joan. An old acquaintance... and a specialist in biology, medicine, and chemistry. Joan, meet Sonna and Rejo.”


    Joan smiled a grin that didn’t quite reach her many eyes as she scanned the newcomers like specimens under a microscope. The fingers on her four arms twitched without a tool to hold. Sonna shuddered, and Rejo’s stance shifted subtly, a low growl rumbling in his throat.


    “A pleasure,” Joan tongued smoothly, her gaze lingering on Rejo. “Dante, you’re putting together quite... the crew.”


    Before she could snap, Dante cut off Sonna and saw through the poorly veiled lie. He couldn’t let the situation progress as it was, saying, “No bickering. Joan’s with us now, and she knows about the thing. Do you need a lab to work your magic? Remember, I need a permanent mask.”


    Dante’s inquiry left his crew puzzled, but they all listened to him for the time being, Sonna out of worry and Rejo from trust as he had heard stories of the Skinwalker from Dante. They filed into the dingy room after the brief discussion. Once inside, Joan set her bulging suitcase on the rickety dining table, flipping it open with a click.


    Inside was an arsenal of illegal tech—devices for removing limiters, shutting off pacemakers, and plenty more forbidden contraptions. Impossible healing serums and even life-extension pills. But Joan ignored those for now, reaching instead for vials of bubbling, toxic-looking liquid.


    “Permanent masks aren’t easy. I’ve gotten better, though,” the doctor explained while moving her many arms and pulling out the materials she needed. “Given your condition, it is reversible, though. Sit. I need a photo of the criminal.” Joan gestured to the stained chair.


    Sonna and Rejo watched in fascinated horror as Joan lathered Dante’s skin with an acidic substance. He winced, but sat still as she worked while explaining the upcoming plan. Meanwhile, Sonna’s curiosity got the better of her.


    “What happened to you? Where did all the blood come from?” the Weren asked, frowning.


    Between Dante and Joan, they explained the events of the day—the fight in Joan’s lab, the escape, and the trek back to the hotel. Sonna’s expression darkened with every detail while Rejo grinned, clearly enjoying the story.


    “You broke into an underground lab and killed a freak like that?” Sonna questioned, skeptical of every minute detail. “That’s insane.”


    “I’ve done worse,” Dante admitted, his eyes narrowing. He laid out the plan with acid on his skin. How he would penetrate the transport with one of Joan’s Rat Biotics, and then he’d use the mask to impersonate the man after forcibly transforming him with another Rat. Once inside, he’d find API and break him out.


    “You’re stupid,” Sonna declared.


    “Ah. That’s what the bomb’s for,” Rejo added shortly thereafter in understanding.


    Dante ignored their contrasting reactions, detailing the next steps. While he infiltrated the prison, they would stage a bank robbery nearby to create enough chaos to reroute the prisoner transport onto a specific street and to lower their guards in the prison. That’s when Dante would make his move.


    The moment Joan finished here, he needed them to leave. The timetable was rough because of the battle in the lab and the discrete journey back. Sure, the prisoner Joan had found in her log was soon to leave for Lightjar from a nearby jail, but directly attacking the caravan would cause too much suspicion and run out the timer on Joan’s Biotic.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    He was cutting things close, but that was his only option. Archimedes’ execution was approaching in only a handful of days, and given the workings of Crislend prisons, there was a pretty high chance they would randomly reschedule it.


    If Dante was truly sailing for the center of the stars, he could not take that gamble. There was no time to wait for another prisoner to be admitted. Joan’s information here was essential for his decision, as the next one was a week from now. Too long.


    In the chaos, the human would do as he always had done and follow the plan until he had to change it on the fly. Joan nodded along with the outline, acting as though all was fine and expected. But not all were in agreement.


    Sonna clenched her fists and spoke, “You can’t go out there alone again. You almost died this morning!”


    Dante, now unrecognizable with his altered appearance, his skin gray with bloodshot sclera like a Tianshe, laughed and asked, “What do you expect? You’re not cut out for undercover work. Don’t know how you were chosen to rob me, less how I let it happen. Rejo can’t even speak without translators. As for Joan, interesting objects or bleeding bodies distract her."


    Sonna opened her mouth to argue, but stopped. She knew he was right. Her shoulders sagged. She realized her futility in that scenario. Dante might have put it rudely, but the woman wasn’t stupid. She desired control over her own life. Was that so much to ask for? She didn’t know. No one had ever given it to her.


    Without that longed control, however, her eyes drifted toward the floor. She tried to hide it, but the human picked up on this gesture of emotion.


    “I didn’t mean it like that,” Dante added, softening. The man apologized, knowing he might have taken it too far, but he pivoted it elsewhere just as Sonna thought he would be genuine. “Your father or mother... they’re a Seafarer, right? A Psion maybe?”


    Dante was decent at establishing relationships. But he was awful at placing them above his own desires. Some would call that manipulation, but he just boxed it away to be ignored with Nullify.


    Sonna blinked, surprised by the shift, but her response was delayed as she asked, “Yeah. My dad. Why?”


    By this time, Dante’s entire body had changed, and it made Sonna uncomfortable, her voice shifting all over. Joan placed a few finishing touches and then stepped back, peeking between the picture in her hand and the Tianshe before her.


    With a nod, she stepped back to her tools, already packing them up. Neither mentioned the price of the procedure, typically in the low hundreds of thousands of credits, enough to feed a village for years. Joan, however, put her hand out as they traded a card for a pair of tangy vials, a type of Joan’s Biotics.


    “I’ll need you to write down everything you know about Seafarers,” Dante spoke, his focus refusing to yield on his current goals. “I’ll read it to Rejo later, but we need to understand how our powers work.”


    The Araki shook his fist in excitement before wrapping an arm around Sonna, the petite girl buried by his body. He then shouted straight into her ear, “Yeah! I ‘ant to fly!”


    Sonna slapped her own face at Rejo’s dream, and she shattered it. She held nothing back from the two possessed men, stating, “Seafarers are dangerous. You either get stronger fighting, or you turn into something worse than whatever you were fighting. I’ve been... taught some... But... fine. I’ll help. Only because I need you alive.”


    The Weren received a soft touch on her shoulder from Dante as the man finally acknowledged her.


    It was his words that brought a smile to her face as he said, “Great. You might not do much to save Archimedes, but you can still help. The Lightsea wouldn’t be used if pulling from it was too risky. Your father was protective. Don’t be afraid to stray from his umbrella.”


    Dante spoke as if from his own experiences, something that Sonna raised an eyebrow at. Still, the Weren’s heartbeat was irregular, though the human, despite noticing her stress, wrote it away as anxiety about her role.


    From there, he patted himself down, relinquishing most of his weapons to Rejo, who handed them to Sonna and Joan. A revolver, knife, and a modest container of rounds for each. Dante left the room, instructing Rejo and Sonna to listen to Joan as she took charge for now. He also emphasized not using any trackable weapons, as they needed to leave behind any advanced weaponry that technology could trace for their escapes.


    After leaving, the man made his way to the streets, ensuring that he kept his head down. Dante strode through the countless sea of people in the nightless city of Eratanm Step by step over the glistening concrete, he made his way to the point of their ambush.


    The plan wasn’t perfect; nothing truly ever was, but he would get the best possible outcome in such a short time. He sat above the tight avenue of road that the vehicle would have to pass through. He could leap directly from a roof onto the transport.


    From there...


    Dante cradled the second-to-last dose of Nullify in his palms with the Biotics beside it.


    Twenty-four hours. I must finish this in one day. Not impossible. Just... difficult. Time for the old switcheroo. If only I had enough time to put Temps on the other three to act as guards. But no. That wouldn’t work. There are six guards on this transport. At least Joan’s Rat will make the man disappear for an hour.


    The human’s mind constantly flew around within his skull, thinking of countless ideas and considerations that were tossed away one after another. The plan was already made.


    He just needed to execute it.


    Dante’s eyes flew down to the syringes. Could he do it? With the shakes?


    He didn’t know. Yet, he wanted to try. He so desperately wanted to believe in himself. But...


    Dante was not a gambler. Not truly. He’d toss away one risk for another, but he couldn’t just turn down a guarantee. It was a given at this point.


    The drug never failed to deliver. Maybe that’s why he couldn’t quit. The drug seeped into his veins, and the world slowed. Focus came, and unlike usual, it refused to leave. He was ready. At last, Dante was ready.


    Everything made sense, and Dante breathed serenely despite the chaos to come.


    Today, he would break a kid out of prison. For years he had wanted to come back for him, but he was afraid of attracting too much attention. Now, though...


    No matter what he did, hands would come for his head. Countless would seek his forbidden existence. Nevertheless, he was confident in his survival. Some would call it arrogance or ignorance. Perhaps even stupidity. But not Dante. His muscles relaxed as he awaited his prey, the poise arriving from years of such schemes. He had danced on a thousand tightropes, dangling from seas of knives, as he constantly ran toward an invisible, unknown destination.


    All the Lightsea had done was add some wind to his back.


    <hr>


    Once Dante was gone, the remaining three stood in awkward silence.


    While weighing the old-model firearm in her hands, Sonna piped up first, “Are we really doing this?” She hadn’t seen a weapon like this in all her life, but she supposed that was what made them impossible to track.


    “You already ‘amned a planet and a star to nothingness, girly,” Rejo uttered with honesty to Sonna. He struggled to understand why she was so against much of what Dante proposed. She wasn’t some perfect lass.


    Joan, however, cleared it up with a sharp tone, demanding, “Get rid of the indoctrination, woman. It’s foolish. The Federation’s enemies are not the only things that should die. You’re smarter than that. Wake up. Let’s go break some legs.”


    Sonna’s brows furrowed in thought while a confused Rejo countered the scientist’s phrase, “I think that’s ‘rong. Isn’t it ‘eant to be said to someone else?”


    “No.”


    Joan waved them off, already heading for the door. Rejo followed, but Sonna lingered behind, sitting alone in the empty room for a moment. Her eyes fell to the floor while her thoughts began to panic. Self-doubt filled her as she questioned her own abilities, despite having a role to play for the first time.


    Her hands rested on the sides of her face, struggling to put everything together. Panic raced within as she realizes how out of her depth she is. She lied to them. The woman was no daughter of some powerful figure. She didn’t set up the attack on Dante’s vessel whatsoever.


    Sonna was the true daughter’s body double, and in her best efforts not to die, she took the young lady’s defensive coat. Sonna watched Irys die before her, wasting into reality’s fringes molecule by molecule from the Old One that had appeared.


    Irys was supposed to be chosen, given a wonderful gift amongst its arrival, not that the Old One knew that. Well, it might have and not cared. None could know besides the unknowable being.


    With a shiver, the young lady wiped the leaking tears from her eyes and stood. Her grassy pupils twisted to the unkempt windows, with a hope of tomorrow and a dream of what might come. They made her a body double, deeming her easily replaceable and unwanted.


    But she didn''t want to be replaceable anymore. So... she felt determined to keep up this lie as long as it took for her to be irreplaceable.


    After fixing her clothes so no one would suspect her while careful to go over the expensive suit-dress twice, she sprinted to catch up. Sonna refused to be left behind. Not again. Never.


    While doing so, the nail that had broken in her panicked scuffle with Irys lost its facade, revealing the removed cuticle. Sonna didn’t notice, however, in too much of a hurry to keep up and terrified of what she was about to do.


    Robbing a bank was beyond anything she’d ever done. She was used to smiling and waving, sometimes listening to Irys’ complaints and rambles. This?


    She shuddered.


    Sonna didn’t know how the human did it, not to mention how he’d do the most burdensome parts all alone. It made her feel for him, imagining him to be lonely beneath the rough exterior. She decided to say something nice when she saw him next.


    Hopefully, that’d cheer up his constant gloom. She couldn''t stand someone so... grim.