Terrance''s clinic looked the same — neon buzz, antiseptic tang — but Lucy knew better. After his kidnapping, she''d spent hours here, reinforcing security nodes, linking concealed turrets. Anyone trying a repeat would get a nasty surprise.
"Skadi," Terrance began, his fingers tapping a restless rhythm on the counter. "You sure about this?"
She moved with subtle grace, barely a whisper across the floor. "I am."
He adjusted his glasses, eyeing the reconditioned gear she''d brought. "ReflexArc-X is supernova-level tech. Had a guy from the Seventh Street Samurai in last week — a Tyger, made-man. Got himself a ReflexArc-7, 2078 Black Edition. Fourteen-hour install. Now he''s lightning with that katana."
"This isn''t just a simple upgrade," he continued. "ReflexArc-X is heavy stuff. And you''re adding the Bullet-Rzor AI predictive modules. That''s a million and a half in tech I''m about to stuff into your petite frame."
She gave a slight nod, her eyes steady. "I''m aware."
"You''ve already got a pound of cybergear in that skull," he pressed. "Good thing you''re upgrading your BCI; otherwise, running both the learn system and this move-by-wire setup would fry your circuits."
His voice faded into the background—a constant hum. She''d made her decision. The die was cast.
"Let''s proceed," she said.
Terrance sighed but began preparations. He rambled about a client with a factory-recalled personal implant—something about unfortunate consequences when stuck in the ''on'' position. She tuned him out, focusing on the task ahead.
He guided her to the surgical chair. "Surgery''s gonna be fourteen, maybe sixteen hours. Recovery usually takes two weeks, but with the extra meds, you''ll be mobile in five days."
"Fine."
He started with the injections. Cool liquid coursed through her veins. "First, we need to lay the groundwork—fast-twitch synthetic muscle fibres, joint reinforcements, nanofiber ligament threading. Can''t have you tearing yourself apart when this kicks in."
She settled in, accessing the ReflexArc-X manual internally. Schematics and protocols streamed across her vision. Terrance''s monologue became distant.
"You''re an organ harvester''s dream now," he chuckled. "Between your GTK learning system and this move-by-wire, you''re worth millions in parts."
"Good to know," she murmured.
"Add the gun link, high-end BCI, Bullet-Rzor AI—you''ve got over five pounds of chrome in that tight little body."
Hours blurred as he worked.
At one point, he warned her about her breathing, switching her to full oxygen with a mask. "Don''t want any embolisms," he said.
Even Terrance, usually a fountain of chatter, grew quiet—his focus sharp. "Installing high-efficiency blood oxygenation implants," he explained. "Direct oxygenation systems for intense periods. Adrenal Response Regulator''s next."
She drifted between consciousness and the haze of anaesthesia. The room felt distant, sounds muffled.
She woke briefly during the BCI replacement. Terrance was grumbling. "Took four hours for what should''ve been fifteen minutes. Had to rewire your GTK implant. Old setup couldn''t handle the cognitive load."
"Everything okay?" her voice was barely audible.
He glanced at her. "Yeah. Your new BCI is top-tier. Even reconditioned, it''s a beast. Peril checked it out herself, huh?"
"She did."
He nodded. "Move-by-wire will make you faster, but the human mind has limits. The Bullet-Rzor AI handles predictive algorithms, pre-planned movements. You choose the action; it executes with precision."
She recalled the man in the alley, his reflexes unnaturally quick. "I understand."
"But remember," Terrance cautioned, "this tech can backfire. Forget to disable triggers, and you might react... poorly. Could hurt someone unintentionally."
"Noted."
He prepared another dose. "Time to knock you out again. Synthetic myelin sheaths on major nerves—not something you want to feel. Gonna open up your skull next for the Synaptic Optimization modules and AI systems. New eyes, damn, these Eden tech ones are cream-de-la-cream Skadi, no expense spared huh? Got every damn option packed into these babies."
Her eyes were the last hurdle. She''d debated it with Peril. The idea of cybereyes unsettled her.
"Eyes are windows to the soul," she had said.
Peril had laughed. "Mine are top-grade implants. You’ve never noticed."
She’d not.
In the end, functionality won. Bioware optic enhancements were decent, but they''d bottleneck the advanced visual processing she needed for the ReflexArc-X’s AI’s to do predictive analysis. It was highly dubious investing in the ludicrously expensive Bullet-Rzor AI in particular if she wasn’t going all-in on the highest quality eyeball datafeeds.
Plus, it was a chance to complete her physical transformation. Her face matched Lethanda''s; now her eyes would too.
She took a slow breath. "This is the last addition."
"Yeah. You''re out of space. Good thing you''ve got a strong neck," Terrance smirked.
A faint smile touched her lips. "Benefits of diligent exercise."
He gave her a reassuring pat. "See you on the other side, Skadi."
The anaesthesia pulled her under. Machines hummed softly as the operation continued, Terrance working with meticulous care.
*
As Lucy knocked on the rusty metal door she knew she''d been lucky. The Scavs who''d hit her apartment had found a young hacker to tinker with the headset in the last week she’d been resting up after the operations, but he''d gotten nowhere.
Or so she assumed — they were still looking for a security expert to look it over after all.
At least the rain was light. It could''ve put some effort into it, she thought, almost grinning under her mask.
A moment later the door creaked open. A young man stood there trying hard to look tough.
"Skadi?"
She nodded. The mask and hood might''ve made that hard to see so she added "As requested," her voice altered by the modulator at her throat.
No chances taken. No DNA left behind. Peril had coated her in a thin layer of bleach-like powder before she left. Gloves, voice modulator, mask, thin cover beneath. Her new Eden eyes were starkly different from Lucy Kellaway''s.
The ganger swung a baseball bat lazily. Gesturing her inside. A small pistol hung at his hip—small calibre, cheap model. It wouldn''t penetrate her armoured coat and the form-fitting body armour beneath.
She stepped in. Same corner café they''d holed up in before. The whole gang was here lounging. Watching vids. In a corner two were under a sheet. Movements obvious.
Animals in a den, she thought. Is that how Lioncourt sees them? Dehumanising makes it easier to kill she knew.
The gang leader, unimaginatively called Scratch, sat with a Latina woman who looked out of place. Casual street clothes but clean neat. Alarm bells rang in Lucy''s mind.
‘Scratch’ - Lucy would bet that there were probably twenty thugs in a mile radius using that name. Perhaps she was underestimating him though, maybe being unimaginative and forgettable was the plan?
"Skadi! Thanks for coming," Scratch began. "We''ve had no luck with this job. You''re a lifesaver." His words slurred slightly like he had a drug problem. Probably did.
"Need the object and a workspace," she said coolly. "I''ll check it over and give you my professional opinion.”
One of the gangers adjusted himself pointing a gun her way — not maliciously just careless.
Her move-by-wire system flashed alerts in her peripheral vision. But it was in full safe mode. The ganger was lucky.
She could''ve disarmed him and shot him before he''d realized.
Is this what Lethanda feels all the time? Surrounded, yet no fear. She felt powerful.
She could take them all down. Even a few days into uploading the learnsoft for the ReflexArc-X system she''d fully digested the techs capabilities. Been back to Terrance for some fine tuning and firmware tweaks.
She remembered Lioncourt talking about security teams — Mooks. How many times had Lethanda mowed down mobs? That''s what this felt like.
A power rush. The ability to crush your opponents. She hadn''t realized how the capacity for violence changes your perception of its use.
She could end this here now. Draw her Arnis knives. Slice through them. Pull her gun. Shoot most before they knew they were even under attack.
The rush swept over her.
Scratch motioned to a nearby table. A nervous flicker crossing his face as her pause stretched.
She walked over. Setting down her small backpack of tools and gadgets. The VR headset lay there. Its guts pried open.
"Give me fifteen," she said.
"Sure, sure. We''ll get you a coffee," Scratch offered, trying to play host.
She nodded, pulling out a toolkit.
She was lying of course. She needed seconds. She knew the access codes. Synced a small cable with her BCI.
Her Dynamic Algorithm Mutation Encryption had over 250 mutations now. Each failed attempt by their hacker had added another layer making it worse.
At least they''d gotten their money''s worth from the guy. He must''ve been at it for days.
But she had the codes. Walked straight into the core. Within seconds she''d bleached the entire headset. Erased every trace between Lucy Kellaway and Gates of Baraadon. Lethanda, her online world. Her guild. Her friends.
She sighed in relief. It was done.
But now what? She''d considered many options, and so far Plan A was working. She scrambled everything below her encryption with further layers. Then another. And another.
A Matryoshka defence. She liked that. The VR headset was now a Russian doll—layer after layer of encryption with nothing inside but vapour.
Whoever they hired next would hit dead end after dead end. Even if they break through there was nothing.
All that in seconds. The headset security zipped back up.
She had time to think now. They hadn''t even brought her coffee yet—not that she''d touch it as that meant removing her ballistic mask.
The thought of killing them all crossed her mind again. But there was no need now. She could get revenge for her trashed apartment - but a murder-fest seemed overkill.
No wonder heavily-cybered types had issues dealing with problems normally.
Lethanda didn''t negotiate with goblins to return stolen goods to farmers; she rained arrows on them.
The Latina woman watched her. Sipping coffee. Lucy spent a moment trying to place her. Snapped a pic with her cybereye. Ran a reverse picture net search via her BCI. Not expecting much.
A surprising result popped up: a cop receiving an award in a news bulletin. Twenty years of exceptional service timestamped three months ago.
Ramirez. Detective Ramirez of the Seattle Police Department sitting casually in a Scav haunt.
No wonder she hadn''t recognized her at first. Now she couldn''t unsee it.
Things clicked into place. Scratch and his Scavs probably didn''t have half a clue what they had.
Ramirez was hunting Lucy Kellaway. Had tracked down who''d hit her apartment. Probably cut a deal with the gangers to share the bounty if the headset lead panned out.
No. Lucy decided. Something smelled off. No way a hard-boiled detective was sharing a multi-million kill bounty with Scavs.
Only one logical outcome.
Ramirez planned to kill the gang once the headset was cracked. She''d call in friends in blue who''d love to bust a dank gang hideout like this one.
These gangers would be training fodder for Rain City''s no-nonsense SWAT.
Why hadn''t she done it yet? Lucy mused. Her coffee arrived. She nodded in thanks. Pretended to tinker with the headset.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Why burn a favour with her friends unless the headset panned out? If not, she saved herself the trouble.
By making the headset unbreakable Lucy was in effect saving the lives of all the gangers here. She smiled at the irony.
She''d come ready, willing and able to kill them all. Invested most of her savings in cutting-edge combat cyberware to do the job.
Ended up probably saving their lives.
She let minutes pass mentally exploring Ramirez''s options. Did she need to be taken out? Was this her last angle?
The Leth apartment would have been a bust. Lucy had bleached that vector.
Nothing more for Ramirez to use. They had her DNA. But she''d have to avoid scans for the rest of her life anyway. Terrance had altered her fingerprints.
Her voice was a possible vector. She used a high-end modulator when working, but it could be a fingerprint.
No. Nothing. This could be a final dead end for Ramirez too. Lucy Kellaway in the wind, out of reach.
Her bounty was sizable now. It had grown. She kept track. Murders she''d never committed added to her sheet. Aurum said it was normal.
Police dropped unsolved cases onto wanted criminals to improve clearance rates. Attaching crimes to in-absentia suspects counted as convictions.
And the criminal couldn''t complain.
She was worth millions dead. Though amusingly retinal-brain scans wouldn''t work now. Scans matched against old records, and she had significant brain mods—ReflexArc-X, GTK and an industrial-grade BCI.
Her eyes were top-of-the-line cyberoptics. She''d spared no expense on the Edens.
She''d discussed it with Peril. Anyone trying to claim her bounty would need DNA which wasn''t instant even in 2083.
Her fifteen minutes were up. Time to spin a tale. She stood and walked over to Scratch and Ramirez.
"Okay the tech is heavily encrypted as you know," she began. "Whoever tried cracking the outer layer did a bad job." Layer in lies with the truth she thought. "It''s a type of encryption that mutates every time you input the wrong code. Your guy made hundreds of attempts. The encryption is scrambled to hell now. The only way in is with an unpatched zero-day vulnerability or understanding the mutation key."
"Can you social-engineer the former owner to get the mutation key?" she asked.
Scratch looked at Ramirez who shook her head. "No go," her voice rough, lacking any softness. Now that Lucy knew she was a cop Ramirez''s out-of-place vibe made sense. Even her voice screamed cop.
"The former owner is a ghost," Ramirez said.
"No living family? No friends?" Lucy probed.
Ramirez sighed, frustration evident. She was resigned to the lead not panning out. Good.
"Well without that," Lucy continued, "you''re looking at a zero-day. I don''t have one. The headset model is up-to-date and no security updates in months."
She paused. "It could happen though. A zero-day vulnerability for that model could be found and then you''d have a way in with an unpatched version."
Scratch and Ramirez exchanged uncertain glances.
Scratch broke first. "So, it''s unbreakable?"
Lucy shook her head. "It''s unbreakable now. Especially after the two hundred or so mutations your guy added. But hey, maybe tomorrow a major zero-day will surface. They happen on gear like this all the time. The company rushes a patch - but you''ll have the unpatched version to exploit."
Or, in this case, break-through to the next layer of my Russian doll, she thought, smiling internally.
"My job is done," she said. "Nothing more I can do right now."
Aurum already had her appearance fee. No need to negotiate.
"Thanks for the coffee," she said, turning to leave.
As she walked out into the drizzle, a weight lifted.
*
The bass from the nightclub throbbed like a synthetic heartbeat. Lucy sat across from Lioncourt, the table between them a stage for their silent game. A cardboard drinks coaster floated mid-air, bobbing unpredictably. Peril watched intently, her gaze fixed, acting as referee.
"Bah, I can''t believe you let them live," Lioncourt said, his French accent colouring each word. The coaster dipped, then rose again, propelled by unseen hands.
"You have the strength and skill to take justice into your own hands," he continued, the coaster flipping subtly. "Le monde se porterait mieux sans ce genre d''individus — you know this to be true."
Lucy met his eyes, her movements precise, almost imperceptible. "Why create a trail back to Skadi when there''s no need?" The coaster spun gently.
Peril leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "Nearly... I almost saw who did it that time."
Lioncourt smirked. "La jeune dame proteste un peu trop. You didn''t visit Terrance and get that superlative machine fitted just to lead a quiet, unassuming life."
He wasn''t wrong. The ReflexArc-X had changed everything. She felt powerful. Felt unstoppable. Lucy knew Lioncourt still held a slight speed edge—his cybernetics more extensive, his experience deeper—but now she could keep up. This game was proof.
"Assuming I had taken action," Lucy said calmly, "what''s the outcome? More detectives? More police hunting after Ramirez''s death?" The coaster flicked twice, barely noticeable.
Peril''s eyes darted. "I saw a flash that time," she announced, concentrating hard. By agreement, she''d left her optical enhancements in normal mode. She could have seen them in thermal or motion detection, but that would''ve spoiled the fun.
Lioncourt waved a hand dismissively. "Police. Les policiers. They''re as corrupt as the criminals they chase. They protect the rich, no one else. Vous comprenez cela. In this city, justice is what we make it."
Lucy pondered his words. She''d debated this with Ceri countless times. Ceri had been thrilled by her restraint, but aghast that she''d spent all her money on cyberware—a deeper dive into the city''s shadows, not the path Ceri wanted for her.
Lost in thought, Lucy''s concentration slipped.
"Skadi!" Peril exclaimed, a triumphant smile spreading across her face. "I saw my lady''s beautiful hand just now."
Lioncourt chuckled, a rich, warm sound. "Ah, enfin prise." Respect glinted in his eyes. They''d been at it for five minutes, trying to outmanoeuvre each other. In a combat scenario with reactionware, five minutes was an eternity.
Peril''s voice softened, pleading. "Enough ethics and philosophy for one evening. I want dancing. I want my lady on that dance floor."
Lioncourt stood gracefully, offering a slight bow. "Que peut dire un gentleman à cela?”
Lucy smiled, rising with fluid ease. "I suppose we shouldn''t disappoint."
Peril took her hand eagerly. "Exactly!"
They moved toward the dance floor, lights pulsing around them. Lioncourt watched, an enigmatic smile on his face. His presence as always radiated danger wrapped in charm.
The music swelled, and for a moment, the weight of shadows lifted. Lucy let herself be drawn into the rhythm; Peril''s hand warm in hers.
*
Lucy noticed them at thirty feet. More accurately, her predictive analysis AI flagged them at thirty feet — warnings pulsed in her peripheral vision.
She’d considered dialling down her ReflexArc-X system; the flurry of hands and movements on the dance floor was causing false positives. But these weren''t false. Clear-cut threats. Headline warnings.
Two hulking figures — pro-wrestler types easily 280 pounds each — were closing in on Peril. Predictive analysis showed them moving with purpose. To their far right a slight woman moved with unnerving precision. Gait analysis pegged her as heavily augmented, reflexes likely matching Lucy''s own.
At twenty-five feet, Lucy spooled up her reflex systems to max. She sent a burst message on their coded backchannel to Lioncourt: Possible hostiles approaching Peril — two heavyweights, one augmented female.
Milliseconds later Lioncourt''s response flashed in her HUD. An invitation to join his tactical subnet. She accepted, their systems syncing seamlessly.
From his vantage point, Lioncourt confirmed a fourth hostile approaching from behind—a man positioned at her six o''clock. His gait analysis was more advanced; he estimated the man was operating at 40% of Lucy''s max speed, the woman at 97%, and the two giants unaugmented but dangerously strong.
At twenty feet, they synchronized. Both maxed out their systems. Lucy''s adrenal regulator kicked in; oxygenated blood flooded her system. The move-by-wire linked with her neural net and BCI. Man and machine melding.
Lioncourt struck first. He descended from above like a hammer, targeting the man at Lucy''s back. His message flashed: I''ll handle the woman. You take les brutes.
A smiley face punctuated his words. Tu as ?a! - You''ve got this.
No time to smile.
The club enforced a strict no-weapons policy — even personal cyberweapons were banned or inhibited with dampeners. Lioncourt couldn''t deploy his forearm blades, but his twenty-foot vault ending in a spinning kick was still devastating. He connected with the man''s head—a sledgehammer blow.
Fifteen feet. The crowd saw only blurs. Peril was still dancing, oblivious. Most patrons hadn''t noticed a thing.
Lucy assessed her options. Her preferred martial art was an armed one. Without knives, Arnis was effective but not ideal against over 500 pounds of muscle.
At ten feet, she''d bought herself precious seconds. Systems red-lined, every sense sharpened.
They wouldn''t touch Peril. Not while Lucy stood.
She moved low toward the first giant. He was massive, but at her speed, options multiplied. She targeted his knee — a vulnerable joint not designed for a 135-pound lateral impact. Her predictive analysis warned of possible armour.
No matter. The force was sufficient. His knee buckled, joint giving way. He began to fall, slow-motion to her enhanced perception.
Rising from her low stance, her systems highlighted targets: eyes, neck. She chose the throat. Her reinforced elbow drove into his larynx with precision. The man''s airway crushed; he clutched at his neck, collapsing beside his shattered knee.
The second brute swung — a massive arm propelled by heavyweight boxer instincts. But to Lucy, he moved through molasses.
She sidestepped, grabbing his wrist. Stepping in close — a risky move under normal circumstances — she used his momentum. Leveraging his arm, she vaulted into a side somersault, her free hand striking toward his face.
Her stiffened fingers found his left eye. The orb ruptured under the force. Completing the rotation, she landed behind him as he roared in pain.
Options flashed. The man staggered, off-balance. She swept his leg, and he toppled, a mountain collapsing.
A heartbeat had passed.
She scanned the dance floor. Lioncourt''s initial target lay crumpled — a bloody ruin where his head had been. Fifteen feet away, Lioncourt and the augmented woman moved at blinding speeds. To unaugmented eyes, they were a blur.
Lioncourt''s tactical AI pinged her: Ensure les brutes are neutralised before assisting.
Ruthless efficiency.
The giants were down but not out. The first man, with a crushed larynx, might not survive without immediate medical attention. The second clutched his ruined eye but struggled to rise.
Her systems offered a barrage of options—many lethal. She chose swiftly. No hesitation.
She delivered a sharp heel strike to the second man''s throat. Cartilage crunched under her foot. He gurgled, collapsing fully.
She glanced toward Peril. Fear flashed across her girlfriend''s face.
Turning, she sprinted toward Lioncourt and the woman. The two moved like dancers, each strike met with a counter. The woman''s enhancements matched Lioncourt''s speed, but his experience gave him an edge.
Lucy approached from the woman''s blind side. The adversary''s systems must have registered Lucy''s swift elimination of the brutes. A flicker of uncertainty crossed her face.
Trapped between them, the woman hesitated. Lucy aimed a sweeping kick at her legs. The woman reacted, jumping to avoid it—but it cost her. Lioncourt seized the opening, delivering a barrage of blows.
The woman''s defences faltered. Seconds stretched. Lucy maintained pressure from behind, feinting attacks, forcing the woman off-balance.
Lioncourt moved in, his hands a blur. He locked her in a grapple. With a swift motion, he snapped her neck — a sharp crack that cut through the muffled bass of the club.
Silence.
*
The club. Once a sanctuary for the elite. Had had its veil torn away. Panic rippled through the dance floor. People scattered, a chaotic exodus. Private security sealed their booths, retreating behind bulletproof glass.
A low-level alarm sounded—a subdued wail, more suggestion than command. Fire doors glowed with red exit signs, beckoning.
Bouncers moved swiftly, guiding patrons toward safety. None dared approach the three figures standing amid the turmoil.
Lioncourt''s message flashed across Lucy''s HUD: Immediate threats neutralised. Informed club security we''re a private security detail — advised them to keep distance.
Great, she thought. Just another night out.
Another alert pinged: Firefight at main entrance. Exfil route compromised.
Lucy slipped an arm around Peril. She could feel her trembling. The shock was setting in. Peril hated violence — even in vids she''d flinch. Now two massive bodies lay mere feet away, gurgling their last breaths.
Lioncourt met Lucy''s gaze. "I don''t like this," he said, his accent lacing each word. "Too straightforward. Trop propre. An attack here, entrance blocked. They''re herding us toward the rooftop AV pad."
She considered his words. They''d arrived via AV — leaving the same way seemed logical. But he was right. If someone wanted to funnel them toward a trap this was textbook.
"This is a feint," he concluded.
"An expensive one," Lucy replied. Only one of the mercs had posed a real challenge to Lioncourt. Under normal circumstances, he could''ve handled all four alone. Might''ve taken a hit though, maybe even a serious one.
A bouncer motioned for them to move. Lioncourt waved him off, leading them instead toward the stairs.
They ascended quickly. Lucy dialled her systems to their full recovery mode. She’d need them again soon enough. Enhancements humming just beneath the surface, she could feel her dedicated oxygen supply refilling slightly, a small strain on her regular breathing.
Lioncourt was strategising. On operations he was cold and calculated—a far cry from the charming fa?ade he often wore.
Their booth was on the second floor of the club. One more level up was the private elevator to the AV pad. A quick escape.
But that wasn''t Lioncourt''s plan.
"Club security net reports twenty Havok gangers assaulting the building entranceway on the ground floor," he said quietly. "Police SWAT en route. Three minutes out."
Peril''s eyes widened. "So, we head to the AV?"
"No," Lioncourt replied. "Not yet."
Lucy glanced at the crowded AV pad elevator through the glass. Imagined a line of sleek vehicles hovering above the building, impatient. The wealthy hated waiting.
"Where''s everyone else going?" she asked. The dance floor below was nearly empty, alarm still droning.
"Parking sub-basement," Lioncourt said. "Fire assembly point, forty floors below us. They''ll route through to an adjacent building."
Peril looked anxious. "What about Yannus?"
Her AV driver, Lucy remembered. Yannus.
Lioncourt gave a slight shake of his head. "Probablement morte, ma dame. Your AV is probably circling, awaiting your call. But once it lands, an assault team will deploy."
"And if we try to retake it?" Lucy asked.
"Probably rigged with charges," he said grimly. "Au cas où."
"Corporate strike," Lucy muttered. "Ruthless."
Lioncourt nodded. "Maintenant, vous commencez à voir le tableau. We''re in the lion''s maw. Someone''s planned our next moves out. We need to adapt."
He continued, "If I''m right, that AV assault team will abandon subtlety soon. They''ll land and force their way in."
"The team at the entrance?" Lucy asked.
"Not Havok gangers," he said. " Mercenaires. They''ve bypassed entrance security, moving upward. Using both main stairwells, they’ve a lot of floors to climb."
"They plan to exit via the AV pad," Lucy realised.
"Exactly."
She was impressed. He''d unravelled their strategy in moments.
"What about the fire assembly area?" she pressed.
"If it were me," Lioncourt said softly, "I''d have rigged it to explode. Or stationed more gunmen there."
He glanced at Peril. "Their muscle suggests they want you alive. This is a bag operation. They expected just me. Planned to have me wounded after the initial attack. Making bad choices in haste."
A shadow of a smile crossed his lips. "They didn''t anticipate Skadi being here, tipping the scales."
Lucy thought of Lethanda trapped in a dungeon. Enemies behind, bosses ahead, no clear escape. No fast travel. No hearthstones. Just grim reality.
"We''ll have to fight our way out," Lioncourt said. "And we have seconds to choose our path. Delay, and we''re cornered between two strike teams."
"We go down," Lucy decided. "SWAT''s coming. If we break through the mercs, we can reach the police lines."
"Upstairs, we only have a trapped AV and a scenic view," Peril added.
Lioncourt''s eyes gleamed. "Alors, les dés sont jetés."
He seemed almost invigorated by the prospect.