《Reality Bleeding [Lesbian/Queer Cyberpunk GameLit]》 Author’s Note Bleed (noun), Bleeding (verb) /bli?d/ The phenomenon where emotions, thoughts or experiences from a player''s real life (out-of-game) affect their in-game character or vice versa. The player''s actual life "bleeding" into the actions, decisions or emotions of their character in the game (bleed-in), or the experiences and emotions of their in-game character "bleeding" into their real life (bleed-out)Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. With many thanks and gratitude to Sarah Lynne Bowman, Markus Montola, Jaakko Stenros and many others, for their contributions towards the development of the bleed concept across various tabletop roleplay, LARP, video game and similar media and environments, in numerous academic papers. The Past & The Future… It is 2083. Global Gaming By 2016 a host of companies have been created with the intention of inventing a working Brain Computer Interface (BCI). In 2024 human trials are started. In 2054 the first voluntary surgery to have a BCI implant was conducted. By 2064 a decade later they are more commonplace. They are commonly called neural links or jacks - though some brand names are also prevalent. In 2073 the first BCI-required to play, massively-multiplayer online roleplay game (MMORPG) is launched by a games company ¨C a true full deep-dive sensory experience. In 2083 a decade later, the new 3rd generation deep-dive VR MMORPG ¡°Gates of Baraadon¡± is launched worldwide. It has over 200m players on launch, all using a cybernetic neural link to play. The game is rated R/15+ for violence. The game is lauded for its cutting-edge sensation and feedback systems which are seen as pushing the boundaries by offering a full range of touch, taste, smell and more. US Law and Justice In 2066 US politicians, faced with a public perception of waves of unsolved murders taking place, changed the Constitution and law to allow for in-absentia trials to take place in the case of murder. For a murder trial to take place, the accused no longer needs to be present to face the charges and to defend themselves. The due process of law no longer requires that the defendant be notified of the charges and have an opportunity to be heard. Murder trials can now be conducted with just a judge, with evidence presented only from public prosecutors based on law enforcement testimony alone. A bounty system is established which allows for capture or kill of convicted murderers: dead or alive. US Opinion Polls that year showed an 86% approval rating for these changes.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. In 2068 after years of legal suspension and wrangling, the Supreme Court of the US (SCOTUS) finally rules on in-absentia murder trials and the bounty system, ruling them legal in a split vote 6 to 3. In 2073 US politicians vote to strike the ¡°or alive¡± section from the Constitutional amendment due to jail overcrowding concerns. Bounties will now only be paid out on dead murderers via a confirmatory retinal-brain scan handheld device. Citizens are encouraged to use appropriate technologies to identify convicted murderers and shoot-on-sight. The net streams are filled with shows which are made which glorify the profession of being a professional bounty hunter. In 2075 research shows that citizen bounty hunters have the highest mortality rate of any US profession ever recorded. In 2024 murder trials represented a very small number of trials in the US system, around two to five percent, and the entire process, from arrest to verdict, typically took one to two years to convict a defendant who claimed not guilty at trial for murder. By 2070 30% of all US trials were in-absentia murder trials. The average trial length to convict a murderer in-absentia had fallen to 15 minutes. By 2083 - it was just three minutes - inclusive of the time taken to read out the charges. Where We Bleed In daydreams we stand. Chasing echoes we command. Fuelled by desire¡ªthe endless game. But who can remain the same? Neon lights and heated cries. In the silence often - lies. We reach for truth in coded lines. Can we break free from these designs? This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. We bleed in spaces between. The real us barely seen. Amid echoes of the roles we portray. Will our burdens all just fade away? Can you see the weight we carry now? Bound by the chains we so often disavow. Pierce the noise¡ªhear the scream. We struggle to re-forge our dream. Now reality feels so cold. Our truths are left untold. We leave behind what we thought we knew. Yet in this void ¨C What remains of you? Chapter 1 Lethanda moved silently between the trunks, her elven eyes piercing the darkness with ease. Her fingers brushed the hilt of her blade. Ever-ready, ever-vigilant. Behind her, Druath tread lightly. The soft rustle of leaves beneath her feet the only hint of her presence. The druid''s connection to the wild was palpable; vines seemed to lean toward her as she passed, and the nocturnal creatures watched her with a reverent gaze. The scent of moss and damp earth clung to her. A now familiar aroma that stirred memories in Lethanda''s mind. They had tracked the goblin raiders for what seemed like days, following a trail of destruction that cut through the heart of the Forest. Burned farms, slaughtered livestock, and the anguished cries of displaced villagers had spurred them into action. Now the flicker of distant fires signalled that their quarry was near. Lethanda paused. Raising a hand to halt Druath. She tilted her head. Listening intently. The guttural laughter of goblins echoed faintly carried on the wind. A fleeting glance passed between the two women. A silent understanding forged over recent shared battles. "They''re close," Lethanda whispered - her voice barely more than a breath. Druath nodded. Her eyes reflecting the moonlight like twin pools of liquid night. "Too close to the sacred grove," she replied softly. "We cannot let them defile it." A determined smile curved Lethanda''s lips. "Then we stop them here." Lethanda mentally traced the path ahead, her innate ranger senses guiding her toward their objective. It was as if an unseen map unfurled in her mind highlighting the quickest route through the tangled woods. They moved as one. Slipping through the underbrush with practiced ease. The Forest seemed to part before them, branches bending away to clear their path. As they neared the goblin encampment the smell of smoke and unwashed bodies grew stronger. They had made camp in a clearing, with their crude tents illuminated by the firelight. Lethanda crouched behind a fallen log with her gaze fixed on the neatly arranged scene ahead. Druath settled beside her. The warmth of her proximity a stark contrast to the chill night air. For a moment the sounds of the goblins faded and all Lethanda could hear was the steady rhythm of Druath''s breathing. "Do you remember the last time we faced such odds?" Druath whispered. Her eyes never leaving the goblins. Lethanda chuckled quietly. "How could I forget? The caves beneath Spine Mountain. We were outnumbered then too." "But we prevailed," Druath said. A hint of a smile playing on her lips. "Just as we will tonight." Their hands brushed as they reached for their weapons. A fleeting touch that sent a familiar thrill coursing through Lethanda. Memories surged¡ªnights spent under the stars. Whispered conversations by the fire. Moments when the world narrowed to just the two of them. She pushed the thoughts aside. Focusing on the task at hand. With silent signals they coordinated their attack. Lethanda notched an arrow, drawing the bowstring back smoothly. Druath closed her eyes. A glowing rune briefly appearing above her as she murmured an incantation, causing the roots beneath the goblins to stir ominously. The first arrow flew - finding its mark in a sentry''s throat. Before the others could react the ground erupted as vines and roots ensnared their limbs. Panic ensued as the goblins struggled against the living forest. Their cries piercing the night. Lethanda moved swiftly. Her blade flashing in the firelight as she dispatched one goblin after another. Beside her Druath commanded the very elements. Summoning gusts of wind that extinguished fires and called forth swarms of insects to harry their foes. The battle was fierce but brief. Soon the clearing fell silent, save for the crackling of dying embers. Lethanda surveyed the scene, breathing heavily, and felt a subtle warmth spread through her. A fleeting surge of vitality that left as quickly as it came. Her senses seemed sharper - with the night''s sounds more vivid. She glanced at Druath, who met her eyes with a knowing smile. Clearly having the same sensations. Neither of them mentioned it. A sense of grim satisfaction settled over her. "Well fought," Druath said, stepping beside her. There was a softness in her gaze a depth of emotion that stirred something within Lethanda. "Couldn''t have done it without you," Lethanda replied. Her voice quieter than before. Druath reached out brushing a stray leaf from Lethanda''s hair. The simple gesture carried weight to both of them. Their eyes met and for a moment the world around them faded. "You''ve got a cut," Druath said gently, while pulling out a radiant blue potion from her pack and drinking it. Her fingers lightly traced a scratch on Lethanda''s cheek. "It''s nothing," Lethanda murmured, though her heart beat faster at the touch. "Let me tend to it," Druath insisted. She placed her palm against Lethanda''s cheek whispering a healing word. A warm sensation spread from the point of contact. The wound closing seamlessly. "Always taking care of me," Lethanda said. A hint of teasing in her tone. "Someone has to," Druath replied. Her smile tinged with something unspoken. They stood there. The silence stretching between them filled with memories and unsaid words. The night seemed to hold its breath, the Forest around them waiting. "Lethanda..." Druath began. But trailed off. Uncertainty flickering in her eyes. "Yes?" Lethanda prompted, her gaze searching Druath''s face. "Perhaps... we should rest," Druath said finally. "Dawn is still a few hours away and we''ve earned it." Lethanda nodded slowly. "A good idea. There''s a glade not far from here. We can make camp." They gathered their gear and moved away from the remnants of the recent battle. The glade was serene. Bathed in the gentle glow of moonlight. Lethanda set about starting a small fire while Druath arranged their bedrolls. As the flames danced casting flickering shadows, they settled beside each other. The quiet sounds of the forest enveloped them, a soothing backdrop to their thoughts. "Do you ever think about the old days?" Druath asked softly, her gaze fixed on the fire. "Often," Lethanda admitted. "Some memories are hard to forget." "Not all memories should be forgotten," Druath replied, turning to look at her. "Some are worth holding onto." Their eyes met again and this time neither looked away. "Perhaps some paths are not worth retracing," Lethanda said quietly. "Perhaps," Druath agreed. A subtle sad smile touching her lips. * The sun began its ascent casting golden shafts of light through the towering trees of the Forest. Lethanda stretched gracefully. The morning dew clinging to her cloak as she inhaled the crisp air. The scent of pine and wildflowers filled her senses evoking a serene smile. "You''re awfully cheerful today," Druath remarked. Her tone light but tinged with amusement. Lethanda turned to face her. Eyes gleaming. "Why shouldn''t I be? The goblins are vanquished and the forest sings with life. It''s a beautiful morning." As she spoke, Lethanda couldn''t shake the feeling of newfound strength coursing through her veins. It was as if the trials of the previous night had honed her abilities in ways she couldn''t quite explain out loud. Druath shook her head softly. "One would think you''ve never walked these woods before. You''re a ranger remember? Being one with nature is kind of your whole thing." "Perhaps I''m just appreciating it more," Lethanda replied, her gaze drifting upward to watch a pair of sparrows dart between branches. "Or maybe it''s the company." Druath raised an eyebrow. A subtle smile playing on her lips. "Flattery won''t get you anywhere." "Who said I was trying to get anywhere?" Lethanda shot back - a hint of mischief in her voice. They began their journey back to the village. The path winding through thickets of ancient oaks and alongside babbling brooks. Lethanda moved with an unhurried grace. Pausing occasionally to touch the rough bark of a tree or to breathe in the fragrance of blooming lilies. "At this rate we''ll reach the village by next winter," Druath teased. "Do you intend to stop and admire every leaf and stone?" "Only the noteworthy ones," Lethanda replied, undeterred. "Which in this forest is quite a few." Druath laughed softly. "You''re incorrigible." They walked on. The comfortable silence between them filled with the sounds of rustling leaves and distant bird calls. The canopy above dappled the path with shifting patterns of light and shadow. Lethanda found herself stealing glances at Druath. Noting the way the sunlight caught in her hair, casting it in shades of deep chestnut. "See something interesting?" Druath asked without turning her head. "Just appreciating the view," Lethanda responded casually. Druath sighed dramatically. "If only you showed such enthusiasm for our mission. The villagers are awaiting news after all." "Patience is a virtue," Lethanda quipped. "Besides the Forest has much to offer those who take the time to look." "Ever the philosopher," Druath mused. "But perhaps you''re right. There''s value in slowing down once in a while." They came upon a small clearing, where wildflowers blanketed the ground in a riot of colours. Lethanda knelt to gently touch the petals of a bluebell. "This was my mother''s favourite flower," she said softly. As her fingers brushed the delicate petals, a faint warmth radiated through her easing the tension in her muscles. Druath watched her. A thoughtful expression in her eyes. "You don''t speak of your family often." "There''s not much to tell," Lethanda replied standing up. "The forest was my family. The trees, the animals¡ªthey raised me as much as any elf could." "Maybe that''s why you''re so enamoured with every twig and blossom." Druath suggested, with a gentle smile. "Perhaps," Lethanda conceded. "Or maybe I just find joy in simple things." They continued on. The sun climbing higher. As they crossed a shallow stream Druath slipped on a moss-covered stone. Lethanda''s reflexes were swift; she reached out to steady her, their hands clasping tightly. "Careful." Lethanda warned, her voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you," Druath replied, her eyes meeting Lethanda''s. For a moment neither moved. The world narrowing to the point where their hands connected. Realising the lingering touch they released simultaneously. Both turning away to mask the subtle flush that coloured their cheeks. "The stones are slippery," Lethanda remarked awkwardly. "Yes. I should have been more cautious," Druath agreed. The path grew steeper as they approached a ridge overlooking the Forest. From this vantage point the vast expanse of trees stretched out before them. A sea of emerald punctuated by glints of sunlight on distant streams. "It''s breathtaking," Druath admitted. "Some things never lose their wonder," Lethanda said. Her gaze fixed on the horizon. Druath glanced at her. "You speak as if seeing it for the first time." "In a way I am," Lethanda replied. "Every moment is unique. No view ever exactly the same." "You always did have a way of seeing the world differently," Druath reflected. "Is that a compliment?" Lethanda asked. A playful tone returning to her voice. "An observation," Druath corrected with a smile. Her eyes sparkled. As afternoon settled in the forest began to change. The light took on a warmer hue and the shadows grew longer. Lethanda noticed the birds had gone quiet. "Do you feel that?" she asked, her demeanour shifting. Druath nodded slowly. "Something''s off. The forest is... unsettled." They moved cautiously now. Senses heightened. The air grew colder and a mist began to weave between the trees. An uneasy feeling settled in her chest, and for a moment, Lethanda wished for the reassuring certainty of her ranger senses giving her a marked trail to follow. But the way forward remained obscured, leaving them to rely solely on instinct. "This isn''t natural," Druath whispered. Before they could react a figure emerged from the haze¡ªa Wight, its eyes glowing with an otherworldly light. The stench of decay enveloped them as it raised a skeletal hand.The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. "Run!" Lethanda shouted drawing her blade. But it was too late. The Wight struck with terrifying speed. Druath barely had time to utter a spell before a dark force slammed into her, casting her to the ground. "Druath!" Lethanda screamed. Lunging forward. Druath''s eyes met hers for a fleeting second. A mixture of shock and pain etched across her face. Then her gaze dimmed as the Wight''s power consumed her. Lethanda slashed at the Wight, but her blade passed through it as if striking smoke. A cold realisation gripped her as a fleeting thought crossed her mind: No effect. She was outmatched. She turned and ran. Her heart pounding in her ears. Branches clawed at her as she sprinted through the Forest. The mist thickened, shadows twisting into menacing forms. The Wight''s distant wail pursued her. Chilling her to the bone. Desperation fuelled her steps. She navigated the terrain with practiced agility, leaping over fallen logs and ducking under low-hanging limbs. The edge of the forest beckoned like a beacon of hope. Bursting through the tree line, Lethanda stumbled onto an open plain bathed in the dying light of day. She collapsed to her knees gasping for breath. The oppressive weight of the forest''s darkness receded. But the horror of what had transpired bore down upon her. Tears blurred her vision as she stared back into the woods. The Wight did not follow. Its domain seemingly confined to the shadows. "Druath..." she whispered the name. A fragile thread tethering her to grief. The wind swept across the plain carrying with it the faint scent of wildflowers¡ªa stark contrast to the dread that clung to her. Lethanda clenched her fists. A storm of emotions raging within her; sorrow, guilt and a burgeoning resolve. As the first stars pierced the twilight sky, she rose unsteadily. The village lay ahead but the path had irrevocably changed. The weight of loss pressed upon her, yet beneath it stirred a fierce determination. The night loomed vast and uncertain. But one thing crystallized in her mind; she would return. The Wight had taken something precious and Lethanda was not one to let such a debt go unsettled. She cast one last glance at the Forest''s edge before turning toward the village. The shadows lengthening at her back. * She ripped off the headset. Gasping for air. The dim glow of the apartment pressed in. Stark and cold. Lucy blinked. Eyes adjusting from virtual forests to concrete walls. Tears traced her cheeks. She swore softly, angry at herself for getting so invested. The room was sparse. A single bed shoved against one wall. Sheets tangled. A metal chair beside a tiny table cluttered with parts¡ªwires and circuits, a partly disassembled datapad. No personal touches. Nothing to show anyone lived here. Just the essentials. She reached behind her neck. Fingers finding the cybernetic neural port. With a practiced twist she unplugged the cable. The connection severed, a dull ache throbbed where metal met flesh. She tossed the cord aside. "Dammit," she muttered. "It''s just a game." But it wasn''t. Not really. Not when emotions spilled over like this. Crossing the room she opened a cabinet. A bottle of vodka waited half-empty. She didn''t bother with a glass. Took a long pull straight from the source. The liquid burned but it grounded her. The city outside buzzed with distant noise¡ªhumming cars and muffled voices, the plink of neon signs. There was barely what could qualify as a window in this place, but she could feel the pulse of the metropolis pressing in. She leaned against the wall sliding down until she sat on the floor. "Why do I keep doing this?" she asked the empty room. Chasing fantasies and getting attached to pixels and code. But it wasn''t just virtual worlds she cursed. It was the loss. Druath¡ªor whoever was behind that avatar. A connection made and severed in virtual space. But the pain felt real enough. She took another swig from the bottle. Tomorrow she''d see the doc. Get the gun link fitted. The dangerous job she had lined up was one that required upgrades she wasn''t keen on. But needed nonetheless. "Back to reality," she whispered. "No more distractions." The apartment was silent except for the faint hum of electronics. She glanced at the scattered parts on the table. Projects left unfinished. Stories without endings. She stood, swaying slightly. The vodka was doing its job. Moving to the bed she sat heavily. Staring at the floor. "Here''s to lost friends," she said raising the bottle in a mock salute before taking another drink. Her eyes drifted to the headset lying discarded on the bed. Part of her wanted to dive back in to see if maybe¡ªjust maybe¡ªDruath was still there. But she knew better. Gates of Baraadon was a hardcore deep-dive VRMMORPG. There was no coming back from death. "Foolish," she chided herself. "Time to let go." She lay back. The ceiling a blank canvas above her. The city''s glow seeped through cracks casting thin lines of light across the room. She closed her eyes. The weight of exhaustion settling in. Tomorrow would bring new challenges. The doc''s appointment and what followed. High stakes but that was the life she wanted now. No more room for escapism. But tonight she''d allow herself this moment. To feel the loss. To grieve in her own way. The bottle nestled beside her, she pulled a thin blanket over her body. The sounds of the city faded as she drifted toward sleep. In the space between waking and dreams she saw flashes of the Forest and heard echoes of laughter. Felt the brush of a hand that wasn''t there. "Goodbye," she whispered into the darkness. The room held no answer. Only the steady rhythm of her breathing filled the void as she surrendered to oblivion. The bottle slipping from her grasp. * Terrance''s clinic was a hole in the wall between a noodle joint and a pawn shop. Neon flickered overhead casting sickly hues on the cracked pavement. Lucy pushed open the door. The scent of antiseptic mixing with fried food from next door. "Right on time," Terrance grinned. His teeth too white - too perfect. "You ready for this?" She nodded, her throat tight. The room was cluttered¡ªwires hanging from the ceiling. Screens displaying scrolling code. A worn chair in the centre. "Take a seat," he said gesturing. "Heard about the new model? The GX-90. Smooth interface - zero lag. But you''re going with the classic. Reliable choice." She settled into the chair. Metal cold against her skin. "Just get it done." He chuckled. "Straight to business. I like that." He began prepping his tools humming to a tune only he could hear. "You see the game last night? Wild finish. Didn''t think they''d pull it off." Lucy stared at the ceiling. A tangle of cables and exposed pipes. Her mind drifted. Two years of double shifts cleaning offices by night and serving coffee by day. All for this moment. "Your neural link''s in good shape," Terrance commented tapping into her dataport. "Who did the install?" "Company doc," she replied. "Mandatory for the job." He snorted. "Figures. Corporate tech, lowest bidder. But you''ve taken care of it." She had. The neural link was supposed to chain her to a desk job for endless hours. Instead it became her escape. Virtual worlds more real than her own life. Forests ¨C mountains - places where she could be anyone. "Alright - little pinch," Terrance warned. She felt a sharp sting at the base of her skull. "So gun link huh? Planning to join the fun out there?" She didn''t answer. Images flooded back. News feeds showing wanted faces. Bounties flashing beneath. The system was broken. Criminals walked free because no one could bring them in. So the city put a price on their heads. "Ever think about the ethics?" Terrance mused. Hands moving deftly. "Citizens turned hunters. It''s a wild world." She thought about bills piling up. Eviction notices. The emptiness of her fridge. Ethics were a luxury she couldn''t afford. "Almost done" he said. "You know, this model syncs perfectly with most firearms. You''ll get real-time data target acquisition - the works." Her fingers clenched in her lap. The gun link wasn''t like the neural port. This wasn''t escape; it was confrontation. "Street''s buzzing today," Terrance continued. "Some big concert downtown. You into music?" "Not really," she murmured. He shrugged. "Suit yourself. Just saying life''s more than just work and... whatever this is." He finished the last connection stepping back. "There you go. All set." She sat up slowly, a slight dizziness washing over her. The interface booted up. A new layer of reality overlaying her vision. Data streams and targeting reticules fading in and out. "How''s it feel?" he asked. "Fine." He leaned against the counter, arms crossed. "Be careful out there. This city''s got teeth." She met his gaze. "I can handle it." He smirked. "I bet you can." She stood. Adjusting to the new sensations. The clinic felt sharper - edges more defined. The hum of machinery clearer. "Payments already processed," he said. "Pleasure doing business." She headed for the door. "Hey," Terrance called after her. "If you ever need a tune-up or... just wanna talk, you know where to find me." She paused but didn''t look back. Outside, the city''s chaos enveloped her. She merged into the flow of people. The noise, the lights. Her path was set. She recalled the first time she saw a bounty claimed. A flash of light, a life ended, dollars transferred in seconds. It was brutal and efficient. "Two months'' rent." she whispered to herself. That''s all she needed. She made her way to her apartment mind focused. The gun link pulsed subtly. Reminding her of its presence. In her room she sat on the edge of the bed. The weight of what she''d done settled in. No turning back. She reached under the mattress pulling out a small handgun. Basic, unregistered. It synced immediately with the implant. Data streaming across her vision. "Smart and courageous," she thought. Or perhaps desperate. Lying back she stared at the ceiling. * Rain fell in sheets. Oily drops hissing against metal. Lucy crouched on the fire escape. Black coat pulled tight. The city glowed below. Neon signs flickering, shadows moving. She was ninety foot up overlooking an alley that stank of garbage and regret. Below near a seedy bar the alley was a favourite spot for the local gang - the Cuchillos Oscuros. They spilled out nightly, laughing and swearing. Marking territory in more ways than one. The facilities inside were broken - or maybe they just liked the open air. Lucy watched as two gangers stumbled out chatting. Eyes glued to their implants, scrolling feeds even as they unzipped. She synced her neural link to the datapad beside her. Faces scanned; data streamed. Both had bounties enough to live on for months. But there were two of them. Too risky. She needed one alone drunk enough not to notice. The city noise was a constant hum - hovercars whooshing by. Distant sirens. The thump of bass from clubs. Her gun felt heavy. The silencer adding length but not true silence. Hollywood lied. Even suppressed it would bark loud enough to turn heads. She cursed under her breath. Without a skill chip she was just an amateur. A few hours at the range didn''t make her a marksman. The gun link helped; overlaying targets, calculating trajectories. But it couldn''t steady her shaking hands. The rain intensified. Droplets sliding off her hood. Time dragged. More gangers came and went. None fitting her needs. Her legs ached from crouching. She pulled out a flask, took a swig. The liquor burned but it calmed the jitters. She glanced around. This used to be a decent neighbourhood. Now crime and decay crept in like the damp. She wasn''t a hero. No cape or mask. But these were convicted criminals. The system had given up on them. Now it was up to people like her. Hours passed. The rain kept falling. Finally a lone figure staggered out. He swayed, leaning on the wall, retching. Her datapad pinged softly. Face recognised. Criminal. Murderer, assault, worse. Not a top-tier bounty - but enough. She steadied herself. Raising the gun. The gun link synced. Reticule glowing red over his head. Distance calculated, wind factored. A perfect shot. Her finger rested on the trigger. But her hand trembled. Rain blurred her vision. She blinked, tears mixing with the downpour. Her breath caught in her throat. The weight of the act pressed down. Ending a life. Could she do it? She tried to focus. The reticule wavered. Her stomach churned. She gagged. Bile rising. The man below finished obliviously. Stumbling back toward the bar. The moment slipped away. She lowered the gun, chest tight. Shame and relief washed over her. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand - the metallic taste lingering. She couldn''t go home now. Not with the gangs prowling and not after lingering here so long. Dawn was hours away. She pulled her coat tighter, huddled against the railing. She wasn''t a predator. Not like them. She was just someone trying to survive. But this wasn''t the way. The rain kept falling. Masking her silent tears. The city didn''t care. It never did. * Rain hammered down relentlessly. Lucy jerked awake, cursing herself for drifting off. The fire escape was slick beneath her. Shadows cloaking her high above the alley. Even so, falling asleep here was suicide. Predators prowled these streets - real killers. A gunshot cracked the night, jolting her fully awake. She peered over the edge. Figures moved below, silhouettes against neon reflections in puddles. Her neural link synced to the datapad at her side. Faces scanned; data streamed. Criminals all of them. Murderers. Her stomach churned. She swallowed hard fighting the urge to retch. The clock in her vision told her it was still two hours until sunrise. Another gunshot echoed - cutting through the city''s ambient noise. She focused on the scene. Three gangers stood over a fallen man. Guns drawn. Muzzles flashed as they fired again and again into the prone body. Her datapad pinged¡ªthe victim was the criminal she''d hesitated to kill earlier. Laughter drifted up from the alley as the trio holstered their weapons. They exchanged words she couldn''t make out. Then turned and walked away - disappearing into the labyrinth of streets. Relief washed over her. They were gone. She might survive the night after all. But then she saw the opportunity. The body lay abandoned. Eyes open. Rain pooling in lifeless pupils. No one had claimed the bounty. No retinal scan, no brain taps. The gangers couldn''t collect; criminals couldn''t cash in on their own. Usually they''d have a Clean to handle that. Not tonight. They''d left the prize unclaimed, worth thousands. Enough to cover her bills and then some. She had minutes. Maybe less. Whoever scanned the body first got the payout. No need to pull a trigger now. Doubt gnawed at her. Why hadn''t they left a spotter? Was it a trap? If they caught her, she''d be dead before she could explain. She gripped her gun. Knuckles white. If she was going to risk it she''d be damned if she went down without a fight. Decision made, she moved. Descending the fire escape quickly but clumsily. Boots slipping on wet metal. She dropped the last few feet landing hard in a crouch. Her heart thundered in her chest. The alley felt like a tunnel - walls closing in. She sprinted to the body, rain slicing down, stinging her face. Kneeling beside the corpse she pulled out the scanner. Pressed it to the man''s open eye. Seconds stretched into eternity as the device processed. A beep confirmed the kill. She didn''t wait. Stuffed the scanner back into her pocket. Stood up. Every instinct screamed at her to run. Footsteps echoed somewhere behind her. Voices? She couldn''t tell over the pounding of blood in her ears. She bolted toward the alley''s end. Muscles burning. Any moment she expected a bullet in her back. Images of the gangers returning flashed through her mind. Out on the street, the city was still alive in its own nocturnal way. Figures moved in the periphery. Predators hunting. She was exposed - vulnerable. She pulled her coat tighter, hood over her face. The gun was still in her hand - blatant. But here that might make her less of a target. No-one wanted to tangle with someone armed and desperate. Turning corner after corner she made her way toward the Metro. The thought of safety propelled her forward. There would be hell to pay she knew. The gangers wouldn''t be happy when they found the bounty claimed. At last, she reached the station. Bright lights bathed the entrance. Security cameras tracking every movement. A guard stood watch, armoured and armed. He glanced at her, but said nothing as she slipped inside. She holstered the gun beneath her coat. The Metro arrived almost instantly. Doors sliding open with a hiss. She stepped in the carriage - nearly empty. As the train pulled away she collapsed onto a seat. Tremors shook her body, adrenaline fading. Tears blurred her vision, but she let them fall. She accessed her bounty account through her neural link. Numbers flashed¡ªmore dollars than she''d ever held. Enough to cover rent. Debts. Maybe even a new start. Relief mingled with exhaustion. She''d done it. Survived. But at what cost? Staring out the window at the dark tunnels she wondered if this was the life she wanted. Existing. Surviving. But always on the edge. She closed her eyes. Letting the rhythm of the train lull her. Chapter 2 The fire whispered as it danced. Casting long shadows that flickered against the towering pines. Lethanda sat close to the flames with the heat caressing her skin, while she drew a whetstone along the edge of her new sword. Each stroke sang to her, as if the metallic note was resonating with the hum of the night. Her new blade filled her with pride, as it seemed to catch the firelight gleaming with a fierce brilliance, that mirrored the stars scattered across the velvet sky. She savoured the moment¡ªthe scent of burning wood mingling with the crisp aroma of pine needles. The rough texture of the hilt beneath her fingers. The rhythmic motion of sharpening that lulled her into a meditative calm. The world felt alive here. Every sensation heightened. Every sound a part of an ancient symphony. Across the flames Delsadar stretched his massive form, muscles rippling beneath tattered furs. His voice boomed as he recounted tales of his homeland. Of snow-capped mountains and battles against beasts of legend. His eyes sparkled with the fervour of his storytelling. "...and there I stood the only thing between the frost giant and my village," he declared, gesturing grandly. "With nothing but my axe and the courage in my heart!" Lethanda admired the artistry of his persona¡ªthe intricate war paint. The scars that told silent stories. The sheer presence he commanded. He must have spent hours crafting every detail. Yet a part of her couldn''t reconcile the hulking barbarian with the loquacious raconteur before her. Tanks were scarce these days. Good ones even more so. She needed him - chatty or not. Beside Delsadar, PWNSTARRR fiddled with his staff. The crystals embedded in it pulsating erratically. His robes hung awkwardly, as if he hadn''t adjusted them properly. "So. Uh. Anyone know when the next event drops?" he asked. His voice cutting through the atmosphere. Lethanda suppressed a sigh. "In due time mage. The winds will carry whispers when the moment is right." "Cool cool," he mumbled, eyes darting around. "Just don''t wanna miss out on any limited-time loot." Mages were overpowered this patch. She couldn''t deny that his abilities would be invaluable against the perils of the Forest. His name grated on her nerves, but he''d submitted a ticket for a change. Small mercies. Ceri, a gnome thief, perched on a fallen log, deft fingers twirling a dagger that caught and scattered the fire''s glow. "The creatures ahead grow more formidable," she mused. "It''s almost as if an unseen hand wishes to impede our progress." "Perhaps it''s a trial we must overcome," Lethanda replied meeting her gaze. "A test of our unity and strength." They''d danced around the topic before¡ªthe absurd difficulty-spike between zones. Without breaking character, they''d vented their frustrations. Launch issues on new games were common. Still the starting area of the Spine Mountains had had its charm. Grouping definitely seemed the best, and possibly even only, path forward. Magladrone sat slightly apart. Her hood casting shadows over her sharp features. A faint smile played on her lips as she listened. "Every challenge we face hones our abilities further," she said softly. "Adversity is but a stepping stone to greatness." Her words carried weight layered with meaning. Lethanda appreciated her ability to weave depth into their campfire exchanges. An experienced roleplayer clearly. Some players hated ¡°camping¡± and the lack of plot-driven dialogue, PWNSTARRR in particular was clearly struggling with this new experience as his first-time playing on an RP server, but at least he seemed willing to learn. Delsadar chuckled heartily. "With my strength, the mage''s firepower and our combined skills - no foe shall stand in our way!" "Assuming we don''t draw aggro unnecessarily," Magladrone teased gently. PWNSTARRR looked up oblivious. "What''s aggro?" Ceri giggled and even Lethanda, who would be usually displeased by such out-of-character banter, bit back a smile. "It''s when you attract the attention of our enemies prematurely," she explained. "Best to proceed with caution." "Gotcha," he nodded. "I''ll be careful." She hoped he meant it. They couldn''t afford missteps. The night deepened. Stars winking into existence overhead. The fire crackled, sending sparks spiralling upwards. Lethanda sheathed her sword satisfied with its edge. She stretched, feeling with pleasure the supple leather of her armour move with her, the cool night air brushing against her skin. "We should rest," she suggested. "Dawn will come sooner than we think and the Forest does not forgive the weary." Ceri faked yawning, nodding. "Agreed. I''ll take the second watch." "I''ll handle the third," Delsadar played along, thumping his chest. Magladrone inclined her head. "Then I shall take the final watch before sunrise." As they settled into their bedrolls the camp grew quiet. The soft sounds of sleep soon followed ¨C by common consent this was a brief offline time for bio-breaks or a smoke for fifteen minutes before they returned to the game ¨C meanwhile in-game, it looked like the steady breathing of companions bound by a common quest. Lethanda remained seated. Her eyes drifting over the tranquil scene. The forest whispered around them. Leaves rustling secrets, the distant hoot of an owl echoing through the trees. She closed her eyes allowing herself to slip into a meditative trance. Elves didn''t require sleep in the traditional sense. A few brief minutes of Reverie sufficed, a game mechanic that allowed her to also maintain her Ranger¡¯s Sanctuary ability over the camp to cloak it from dangerous mobs stumbling their way. Her vigilance. As she thought of it. It wasn''t entirely immersive but sometimes efficiency mattered. Lethanda hated bio-breaks, and usually ensured she¡¯d made herself fully ready for the quests ahead before logging on, but even she needed to go occasionally in an eight or twelve hour gaming session, and camping was the traditional time for them. Her thoughts wandered to the challenges ahead. The Farmlands were under threat and only by braving the Forest, and finishing off many monsters, could they hope to reach the town of Aletra. Many had tried and failed. The difficulty-spike halting progress for countless players. Worse in this hardcore realm, ¡°halted progress¡± had a permanence of tens of hours invested - lost in an instant, and having to start over again. But together as a group they had a good chance. She listened to the rhythmic breathing of her companions. Drawing comfort from their presence. Delsadar''s strength, PWNSTARRR''s raw power, Ceri''s knife skills, Magladrone''s summons - all pieces of a puzzle that might just fit. She took in both the silence and the scent of the fire, mingled with the earthy aroma of the forest floor. She once again felt the texture of moss beneath her fingertips, trying to stretch out this moment of pure solitary peace, and she with her Ranger hearing, heard the distant murmurs of nocturnal creatures stirring in the underbrush. Every sense seemed alive and attuned to the world around her. This was why she played¡ªto lose herself in a realm of magic and mystery. To feel connected to something greater. But practicality tugged at the edges of her fantasy. They needed to level up to push past this bottleneck. The developers would patch things eventually. But for now they had to adapt. She opened her eyes. Gazing into the embers of the dying fire. Determination settled within her. In a few minutes ¡°tomorrow¡± would arrive, their rest camp period would be over, the chatter would recommence, and they would forge ahead. For now, she embraced the stillness for a few more seconds, trying to further eek out every moment, letting the sensations of the night envelop her. For some reason her face felt wet with tears, even though in-game she had none. * Lethanda stepped lightly through the forest while sunlight filtered through the canopy above. Casting a mosaic of golden light that danced across her skin, warming it. She could feel the gentle caress of the breeze carrying with it the sweet aroma of wildflowers, and the distant murmur of a babbling brook. Beside her Delsadar''s massive form moved with surprising grace. His new-found armour glinted dully, clearly worn from countless battles and the intricate patterns etched into the metal caught her eye. He spoke animatedly. His deep voice resonating like distant thunder. "And then the beast charged! Claws like daggers aiming straight for my heart!" he exclaimed, eyes alight with the thrill of his tale. "But I stood firm, my axe ready, and with one mighty swing¡ª" Lethanda smiled softly, appreciating the texture of his storytelling. The way his eyes crinkled at the corners, the rough timbre of his laughter¡ªit all added layers to his persona. He''d put considerable effort into crafting his character, and while his garrulous nature seemed at odds with the stoic barbarian archetype she valued his presence. Tanks like Delsadar were rare finds. Especially ones willing to brave the perils ahead. PWNSTARRR lagged a few paces behind. His robes dragging slightly on the underbrush. He seemed engrossed in the play of light on his staff, the crystals embedded within pulsating softly. "This Forest is like - super mystical," he remarked, eyes wide. "Do you think we''ll find any more good drops around here?" Lethanda resisted the urge to sigh. "The woods hold many secrets," she replied keeping her tone enigmatic. "Stay vigilant - and perhaps fortune will favour us." In truth they¡¯d already had many good drops, her own new boots were evidence of that. He grinned sheepishly. "Right. Gotta stay in-character. Sorry." Despite herself she felt a flicker of fondness. His efforts to adapt were earnest and his raw magical power had proven invaluable. Once his irksome name violation situation was resolved, he might even blend seamlessly into their roleplay. Ceri darted ahead. The gnome''s nimble form barely disturbing the foliage. She twirled a dagger between her fingers. The blade catching shards of sunlight. "Can''t believe how smooth that run was!" she exclaimed. Her laughter like tinkling bells. "Those creatures didn''t stand a chance against us." Lethanda felt the corners of her mouth lift. "Our combined skills make for a formidable team," she agreed. The tactile sensation of her bow slung across her back. The slight weight of her quiver at her hip¡ªit all grounded her in the moment. Their return to the Farmlands was met with the warm glow of the setting sun. Fields of golden wheat swaying gently in the breeze. The familiar scents of tilled soil and blooming crops enveloped them. A comforting embrace after the shadows of the Forest. Handing in their quests, Lethanda couldn''t help but notice the repetitive responses from the villagers. The mayor''s assistant greeted each of them with the same vacant smile. The scripted dialogue lacking nuance. "Thank you for your service brave adventurer. Your deeds will not be forgotten," the NPC intoned for the third time. She felt a brief irritation. The AI''s limitations were glaring here, breaking immersion. But she brushed it aside. Focusing instead on the tactile reality of the parchment in her hands, the rough texture beneath her fingertips as she received her reward. Magladrone approached, her eyes reflecting the warm hues of twilight. "It seems our efforts have not gone unnoticed," she remarked, her voice carrying a melodic lilt. "Indeed," Lethanda replied, catching the subtle fragrance of lavender that seemed to surround the warlock. "The Farmlands can rest easier now." They gathered before the mayor who stood upon a makeshift platform. His robes fluttered lightly in the evening breeze, and for a moment, the atmosphere felt charged - electric. "Heroes of the Farmlands," he proclaimed. His voice carrying over the murmurs of the assembled crowd. "You have driven back the darkness that encroached upon our homes. For your courage and strength, we bestow upon you our deepest gratitude." A surge of pride welled within Lethanda. The weight of the moment pressed gently against her. The ambient sounds fading as she absorbed the collective appreciation. She could almost taste the sweet air, tinged with the faint aroma of hearth fires and spiced meats from nearby stalls.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. Ceri stepped forward dramatically. "Perhaps my days of pilfering pies and sneaking through shadows are behind me," she declared with a mischievous grin. "Maybe I''ll take up a more... respectable profession." Lethanda chuckled softly. "Change can be the greatest adventure of all," she mused, the words rolling off her tongue like a melody. As they prepared to set off for Aletra, the next town that the mayor had just given them a breadcrumbs, but necessary, quest for, the conversation flowed easily among them. PWNSTARRR seemed particularly enthusiastic. "Can''t wait to see what spells I can learn in the next town," he said excitedly. "Maybe I''ll finally get that Firestorm ability everyone''s talking about." She admired his eagerness. The tactile sensation of the road beneath her boots, the cool breeze caressing her face¡ªit all felt remarkably real. The game excelled in these details. Each sensory input meticulously crafted. Magladrone slowed her pace, falling into step beside Lethanda. "I''ve enjoyed our journey together," she began, her gaze distant. "But now I must part ways. Old friends await and there are paths I must walk with them." A pang of disappointment settled in Lethanda''s chest. A subtle ache she hadn''t anticipated. "I understand," she replied, her voice steady. "May your journey be filled with wonder." "Perhaps our paths will cross again," Magladrone offered. A hint of a smile touching her lips. "Perhaps." Lethanda echoed, the word tasting bittersweet. Ceri suddenly leaped onto Lethanda''s back with a gleeful laugh. "Onward noble steed! To new horizons!" Lethanda couldn''t help but laugh - the sound genuine and light. The warmth of the gnome''s small hands rested on her shoulders and she felt the rhythmic bounce of each step they took together. Delsadar glanced back. His eyes crinkling with amusement. "Careful up there little one. The road can be unpredictable." "I fear no path with our mighty ranger leading the way!" Ceri retorted playfully. The textures of the world enveloped her¡ªthe rough bark of nearby trees as they brushed past. The distant call of night birds, awakening the subtle shift of the air, signalling the approach of dusk. Each sensation anchored her. A vivid tapestry woven from sight, sound and touch. Yet, beneath it all she couldn''t shake the lingering thoughts about the game''s mechanics. The Wight had fallen too easily. Its defeat lacking the grandeur she''d anticipated. It was likely just a random spawn, unconnected to any meaningful quest line. Druath¡¯s dramatic sacrifice and death which allowed her time to escape, seemed lessened somehow in its intensity when melded with the new memory of just how easily her friends had taken down the monster. The system''s design sometimes favoured efficiency over depth and while she cherished the immersive aspects, moments like that pulled her back to unwelcome reality. She adjusted Ceri''s weight slightly. The gnome''s laughter ringing in her ears. "Hold tight," she advised. "The journey ahead is long, but the company makes it worthwhile." PWNSTARRR jogged to catch up. A genuine smile on his face. "You know. I''ve been thinking of a new name. Something more fitting for this world." "Oh?" Lethanda arched an eyebrow, the gesture almost imperceptible. "What did you have in mind?" "Perhaps... Arcanis Flameweaver?" he suggested tentatively. She considered it. The name rolling through her mind like a whispered secret. "A fine choice. It suits you." He grinned. Visibly pleased. "Thanks! I''ll submit the request tonight." The path ahead stretched into the horizon. The first stars beginning to shimmer against the deepening sky. Lethanda took a deep breath. The cool night air filling her lungs. The subtle scent of jasmine drifted past mingling with the earthy undertones of the Forest. Despite the scripted nature of some interactions. The world felt alive and vibrant. The game was cutting-edge and pushing boundaries in ways that mattered to her. She glanced back at Magladrone, already walking away in a slightly different direction than their group, and for one last time the warlock''s figure was silhouetted against the fading light. A part of her wished things could be different, but she accepted it with internal regret. "To Aletra and the adventures that await!" Delsadar proclaimed, raising his axe skyward. "To Aletra!" they echoed. Voices melding into the symphony of the night. * She pulled the jack from her neck. Lucy stared at the blank wall ahead. Breathing steady and grounding herself in the simple act of inhaling and exhaling. The hum of the city seeped in¡ªa distant siren. The buzz of a hover ad drone gliding past her window. Her eyes drifted to the door. Heavy now, and reinforced. Yesterday''s labour etched into the steel plates and bolts. She''d spent hours with power tools with the whine and grind filling the small space. The door was now a fortress, or as close as she could make it. Stories floated around the net. Players deep-diving, lost in virtual realms, while reality crept in with a crowbar and ill intent. Some got robbed; others faced worse fates. The thought tightened her chest. Vulnerability wasn''t an option. She examined the setup. Hooks and rails fitted into the frame. Bolts sunk deep into concrete. Half-inch steel plates slid into place locking with a satisfying click. A wedge on the floor three feet back where a steel beam angled into a groove along the door''s length. Solid. Secure. Expensive too. The bounty funds drained into metal and tools, but peace of mind had a price. She couldn''t afford distractions when deep-diving for hours. In the kitchenette she boiled water. Tore open a packet of ramen. The noodles swirled in the pot, steam clouding her vision. Tasteless - but it filled the void. She ate standing up. The texture was rubbery and the broth soon lukewarm. Midway she felt the urge. In the tiny bathroom she sat, the physicality and mundanity of bodily functions grounding her further, and making the digital world fade even faster from her mind. Life¡¯s essentials had a way of balancing extremes. Back in the main room she noticed sunlight filtering through the blinds. Rare clear skies painted the concrete in muted hues. No rain today. A novelty. She almost smiled. Dressed now. She checked herself. Sturdy boots and a new, if second-hand, worn jacket, hair tied back. The gun lay on the table looking cold and precise. Time to hit the range and sharpen skills that might pay the bills. But first the door. It took nearly three minutes to dismantle her own barricade. Plates lifted. Bolts retracted. The beam pulled from its wedge. She moved methodically; each step practiced yesterday. She swore she¡¯d have it down to under two minutes soon. * She walked into the shop with the scent of gunpowder and steel hitting her senses. Boris looked up from behind the counter, a grin forming beneath his thick moustache. Lucy knew from their many chats in recent weeks that his name wasn¡¯t really Boris, but Yurii, but Boris just laughed loudly as he said every Ukrainian gun dealer should be called ¡°Boris¡±. It was a joke of his to the world at large. If anything, Lucy understood well wanting to be called by the name you define yourself, and liked the joke. "Lucy! Back so soon?" he called out, his thick Ukrainian accent colouring the words. "You''re going to wear out my range at this rate." She nodded, a faint smile touching her lips. "Got to keep practicing." He chuckled shaking his head. "Gun links make you accurate - sure. But without muscle, without memory, you''re just a machine''s puppet," he tapped his temple. "Mind and body they need to work together." She headed to her usual lane unzipping her bag. The pistol lay nestled inside sleek and cold. She loaded the magazine. Each bullet clicking into place. The weight felt heavy in her hand. Boris leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. "Remember it''s not about the shots you make. It''s about making them when it counts." She took aim. The gun link syncing with her neural implant. The target highlighted, data scrolling in her peripheral vision. She fired. The bullet punched through the centre. She fired again. And again. Each shot precise. But her focus was on the draw, the lift, the steadiness of her grip. Her arms began to burn. Muscles protesting. The two-pound weapon felt like a ton after a while. "Don''t lock your elbows," Boris advised from behind. "Let the recoil flow through you." She adjusted. Continued firing. The sound of gunfire was a steady rhythm - a harsh metronome. Her mind drifted between shots. Boris was a good man. Their relationship was transactional maybe ¨C no, certainly, Lucy thought - but there was sincerity in his guidance. He saw a good customer. Like Terrance the doc. People who saw so many faces come and go, but took a moment to offer something real. Her arms ached. She lowered the pistol. Flexing her fingers. Boris had told her to pause every forty rounds to let the barrel cool. She set the gun down, feeling the slight tremor in her hands. "Good," Boris nodded approvingly. "Pushing too hard you only hurt yourself." She picked up the pistol again, resumed drawing and firing. The motions became mechanical and almost meditative. Her thoughts wandered. Making friends had always been hard. In school she was just another face in the crowd. Maybe she didn''t try enough. Didn''t wear the right masks. Being into girls complicated things. Acceptance was a surface layer; underneath people kept their distance. Girls acted wary. As if friendliness had ulterior motives. Boys saw her orientation as a challenge - a game to win. She fired again. The bullet tearing through the target. Just four dates in her twenty-three years. None leading anywhere. Connections were elusive, and slipped through her fingers like smoke. Her arm muscles screamed now. She stopped. Breathing hard. Time to clean. Boris had taught her well. Let the barrel cool first. Take a moment. She disassembled the gun with care, laying out the pieces on the bench. The range buzzed with activity, others lost in their own worlds of metal and gunpowder. Boris watched her from a distance a hint of a smile on his face. She followed his instructions meticulously, wiping down each part, applying oil where needed. Reassembling the pistol she felt a small sense of accomplishment. A task completed. Order restored. She packed up her gear, slinging the bag over her shoulder. Boris approached as she headed for the door. "You''re improving," he said. "Keep this up and that gun will feel like an extension of your arm." She nodded in gratitude, and gave him a half smile that touched her face only for a second. He waved a hand dismissively. "Just sharing wisdom. You take care out there." She stepped back into the city''s embrace. Neon lights reflecting off nearby windows. The early evening air smelled of ozone and distant rain, a nice contrast to her own metallic musk. Her arms still aching, the need for caffeine suddenly and sharply like a spike rang through Lucy¡¯s head, as she headed for a nearby busy diner she had started to know well. * She moved through the busy bustling early evening streets, boots slapping against pavement. The city''s grime clung to everything¡ªbuildings covered in soot. Air thick with pollutants. Homeless clusters huddled in doorways. Eyes hollow. Bodies wrapped in stained blankets. Organ harvesters prowled these alleys. Predators in a concrete jungle. Lucy kept her head down hood up. Neural implant and gun link made her a target worth thousands. One unlucky turn and she''d end up on a slab and her parts parcelled out to the highest bidder. The thought tightened her chest. Homelessness wasn''t just despair; it was a death sentence here for someone with her upgrades. She''d been careful with her money. Scraped and saved, paid off debts, even got the rent a month ahead. The armoured door at home was a fortress worth every cent. But funds were dwindling. People with comfortable lives thought the poor were careless, squandering what little they had. Lucy knew better. Those teetering on the edge counted every dollar, planned every expense. No safety nets for them. In this random world, an unexpected event could shove you into the abyss. The bounty had been a stroke of luck she could hardly believe. She glanced at a woman huddled under a threadbare blanket, eyes vacant. That could be me. The diner came into view¡ªa dingy hole squeezed between a pawn shop and a boarded-up storefront. Inside fluorescent lights flickered. Casting a sickly glow over chipped countertops. She slid into a booth. The vinyl seat cracked and peeling. A waitress approached. "What''ll it be?" "Just coffee," Lucy said. "Cheapest you''ve got." She was still full from the ramen earlier. Boris had chided her for not consuming enough protein to build arm strength. She''d have one of those protein bars he¡¯d recommended later. The woman nodded and left without a word. Lucy glanced around. A couple of patrons nursed their drinks. Eyes lost in their own troubles. She pulled out her datapad tapping into the local grid. "Riverside News" loaded quickly. Not much of a river left in this borough but the name stuck. The site was raw. Unfiltered¡ªa daily dossier of the city''s underbelly. Cops hated it. Even criminals had bounties on the writer''s head. That made her smirk. Information was power, and this site had plenty. Three thousand subscribers paid for the privilege of knowing the local truths everyone else ignored. This was where she''d learned about the Cuchillos Oscuros, about their habits. Their haunts. Even the detail that they pissed in the alleyway because the bar''s restroom was busted. Small details but invaluable. The coffee arrived. She took a sip. Grimaced at the bitter taste. Warmth spread through her, but the flavour was harsh, almost metallic. Eyes scanned the latest posts. Murders and unreported bodies found. Names listed with crimes attached. She admired the audacity of whoever ran the site. It was no-holds-barred local truth. She suspected a disillusioned cop was behind it, selling secrets for dollars. Three thousand paying subscribers a month added up to a decent income. The crimes unreported elsewhere were laid bare here¡ªthe bodies that vanished, the murderers who walked free. Names and faces exposed for anyone who cared to look. For two weeks she''d combed these pages, hunting for a lead. A place to stake out, or a routine to exploit. Something like before¡ªa vulnerability she could leverage. Nothing yet. Frustration gnawed at her, but she pushed it down. She was ready this time. She knew she could do it. She drained the cup. Set it down with a soft clink. The diner''s noises faded as she focused inward. No more hesitation. No more freezing up. Next time she''d claim a bounty. Take down a murderer. Or something worse. She stood, leaving a few dollars on the table. The city''s neon glow seeped through the diner''s grimy windows, casting distorted shadows. Pulling her hood up, she stepped back into the busy urban labyrinth. Finally, the long-promised rain had started. The faces of the homeless once again blurred past her as she moved. She was acutely aware of how close she was to joining them. But she''d be careful, prepared. She wasn''t about to let the city consume her. Chapter 3 Rain hammered the streets. A relentless curtain that turned the city into a blurred haze. Lucy moved through the downpour, cursing the endless wet that seeped into her bones. The glow of signs reflected off puddles casting distorted colours onto the grimy sidewalks. Homeless clusters huddled, under makeshift shelters eyes hollow, shadows of people forgotten by the world. Gangers roamed, marauders in this urban wasteland. She wasn''t in friendly territory. She pulled her hood lower, the rawshark mask below concealing her face. The man who sold it to her had called it that¡ªrawshark. She thinks it probably has some significance, the mask''s surface shifted with moving inkblots. Patterns forming and dissolving. Sometimes she caught glimpses; Lethanda with her bow drawn, Delsadar wielding weapons in both hands. Her mind drifted, tracing the designs. She snapped back, heart jolting. Couldn''t afford distractions. Not here. Not now. Hesitation could kill her. This wasn''t a game. Focus. She told herself. The night was deadly and hesitation could kill her. She was scouting tonight. Not hunting. But the streets were alive with danger. Killers lurked in every shadow. She was heading toward one, if "Riverside News" had it right. She stopped before the corner. This was where her possible target bounty was said to operate. Rain sliced down but she could make out the figures beneath flickering streetlights. A rundown building loomed over a cracked parking lot further down the street. At its edge stood the man she sought. The ambient glow was enough to see him clearly enough even through the deluge. Pulling up a detailed map on her datapad. She noted the alley running behind the building to the man¡¯s left. An escape route for him maybe? Or an approach path for her? Opportunity. If she could find a fire escape along the alley, gain some height. Better vantage, safer distance. She watched the rain rolling off her new overcoat. This one was better than before, hydrophobic, water sliding off in sheets. Two customers approached the man. Quick exchanges before they slipped back into the night. What were they buying? Drugs, illegal sims, something worse? Didn''t matter. This wasn''t a place for legitimate business. Slowly she circled toward the alley entrance. Moving with purpose. A pair of gangers passed by, tattoos vivid even in the gloom. Her heart pounded but they walked on. She wondered why predators like them let someone like her be. She wasn¡¯t oblivious to how she appeared¡ªa figure shrouded in an armoured overcoat, masked, a hand gripping something beneath her coat. Not easy prey clearly. She stepped over curled bodies in the alleyways. Homeless soaked to the skin, they must be, but their forms barely stirring. No fire escapes in sight. She muttered a curse. Still, from here she was ninety feet out, with a clear line of sight. The alley was dark; she was cloaked in shadow. The target stood bathed in weak light, alone. She synced her tablet. She re-confirmed it was her target. His face appeared, data scrolling alongside. Convicted. Killer. Multiple counts. Drug trafficking. A red flag caught her eye, she knew that one; cop killer. Another orange symbol was near that that she didn¡¯t. Whatever it was, the message was simple; a very dangerous man. The bounty was substantial. Customers came and went. One passed through the alley, forcing her to hide behind a dumpster. The stench was overwhelming, but the passerby didn''t notice her. When it was clear she glanced back at the target. Still there. She activated her gun link, the interface overlaying her vision. Distance: 87 feet. "Target," she whispered. The word tasted bitter. Her stomach churned, but there was a strange calm settling over her. This was real. A nausea twisted her gut but beneath it lay a strange calm. A question whispered in her mind: What would Lethanda do? She pushed the thought away. Lethanda was a character¡ªa fantasy. Not someone who could be raped, tortured, murdered. This wasn¡¯t pixels and code. This was the real world. Unforgiving and raw. Yet a part of her knew that Lethanda wouldn''t hesitate. The conditions were as good as she''d ever get. Heavy rain for cover, and the darkness of the alley providing a concealed position. The target was illuminated, and caught completely unaware. But the distance was a problem. She''d never shot beyond sixty feet, and even then, under the controlled conditions at the range. At eighty-seven feet variables increased. The gun link could adjust for some factors, but not all. If she could close the gap to sixty feet her chances improved. "Am I really going to do this?" she whispered. This was supposed to be a scouting mission. She looked at the homeless nearby. Then thought of her dwindling funds. The bounty would secure her future at least for a while. Decision made. She moved forward. The rain intensified. Drumming against her hood. Her boots splashed through puddles but she kept her steps light. At sixty feet she halted. The gun came up smoothly, the muscle memory of her practice sessions at the range kicking in. "Bless my bow Lethanda," she whispered beneath the mask. "Bless this arrow." She exhaled slowly finger tightening on the trigger. The gun link adjusted. Reticule aligning over the target''s head. Time seemed to stretch. The city''s noise fading into the background. She fired. The recoil jolted her arm. The sound muffled by the suppressor but still sharp in the alley. The bullet crossed the distance in a heartbeat. * She stumbled into Terrance''s clinic clutching her side. The doctors symbol sign flickered above the door casting a sickly glow. Inside the antiseptic smell mixed with something metallic. Terrance looked up grinning wide. "Lucy! Back so soon?" he chirped, hands busy organizing a tray of gleaming instruments. "You look like you''ve danced with a truck." She forced a smirk. "Got clipped by a car. Jumped the curb. Didn''t see it coming." He raised an eyebrow but didn''t press. "Those auto-drive systems, never can trust ''em." He gestured to a chair. "Sit. Let''s take a look." She eased onto the worn examination table, the vinyl sticking to her damp clothes. Terrance kept talking, his words a constant stream¡ªstories about faulty AI, a joke about a toaster that tried to burn down an apartment. His hands moved deftly, peeling back her clothes to assess the damage. She winced as pain shot through her left side. The new armoured coat had saved her life, but beneath it, her body was a battlefield of bruises. "You''re lucky," he said, fingers tracing where the dented armoured plates had impacted on her body. "Could''ve been worse." Terrance hummed a tune - hands gentle but efficient. "Bruising''s deep. Soft tissue damage. Got some nasty colours showing up already. You''re lucky nothing''s broken." He dabbed at a cut above her eyebrow. She¡¯d hit the floor face-first, hard. She was lucky for just the cut. "Need to be more careful crossing streets. You know, saw a guy last week who tried to jaywalk on Fifth. Ended up with half his ribs shattered. At least you kept your organs intact." She watched him. Trying to read his expression. He knew. Had to. But he kept chatting. "Weather report says rain all week," he continued. "Good for business I suppose. People slipping, sliding, all sorts of accidents." Her mind drifted back. The alley. The rain masking her footsteps. She''d fired three silenced shots from sixty feet. He shouldn''t have seen her. But he¡¯d moved like a ghost. Spinning and drawing even before her bullets landed. His gun flashed. Two return shots tearing through the night towards her. She felt the impact like a sledgehammer, the armour absorbing the worst, but not all. "Hold still," Terrance instructed, pressing the hypo against her neck. A cold sensation spread, numbing the pain. "Thanks," she murmured. He waved a hand. "No problem. Gotta say, you handle yourself well for someone in a collision. Most folks would be out cold," Terrance noted, applying a cool gel to her shoulder. "Thinking about upgrades maybe? I''ve got new stock. Subdermal plating. Reaction enhancers. Bio-muscle toners. Top of the line." She shook her head. "Not interested." He chuckled. "Always say that. Until you need it." He tapped her arm lightly. "Could help prevent... future accidents." He kept talking¡ªabout the latest cyberware trends, a funny story about a client who wanted a built-in espresso machine. All the while applying more gel. She tried to focus, but her thoughts drifted. She swallowed hard. The symbol on the datapad¡ªshe hadn''t recognized it. Military? Special forces? It must''ve meant stay away. Enhanced. Heavily so. The speed of his movement had been terrifying. Unthinkable. How? Even now Lucy struggled to comprehend it. It seemed impossible. To both draw, and fire off a return shot, after you¡¯ve been surprised. Ambushed. He had been laughably beyond her league. Her first fight with the Wight flashed in her mind. The ease at which it had sliced through Druath. She remembered getting up, trembling, the pain stark. Emptying the rest of her clip into the criminal¡¯s unmoving body on the floor at distance, even as she walked towards it closing the gap. ¡°Centre-mass¡± as Boris would say, fear and adrenaline driving her forward. Even as it was clear the first three bullets had hit his head. Even after he was on the ground, she''d reloaded, ready to fire again. Practical maybe, but also a sign she was in way, way over her head and scared witless at what she¡¯d observed. She¡¯d desperately wanted to unload the second clip into his still body. "Got any painkillers for the next few days to take home?" she asked. "Of course. But these extras aren''t free." He tilted his head, eyes gleaming. He named a price that made Lucy wince. She reached into her pocket, pulled out a pad and flipped him the money. The bounty payout had been generous, but Lucy was already counting every expenditure. It had to last for a while. "Excellent," Terrance beamed. "I''ll get you the good stuff." He turned to a cabinet humming again. "You know enhancements aren''t just for the crazies. They can keep you alive. Make you faster, stronger." She watched his back. The way his hands moved with practiced ease. The idea unsettled her. She wasn''t looking to become some augmented soldier or cyber-crazy. She just wanted to survive. She¡¯d hated having the neural link at first, and only grown to accept it when she found she could use it for deep-dive gaming. The gun link had felt like a necessity. More? Abhorrent. "Take them every six hours. And seriously, think about what I said." She stood slowly, testing her weight. The pain was dulled but present. "Thanks, Terrance." "Anytime," he said, escorting her to the door. "And hey, be careful out there. Streets are mean these days." She nodded. Slipping the meds into her coat. The weight of the night''s events pressed on her. She''d killed a man. A dangerous criminal. But still a life taken. "Anything else?" Terrance asked, returning to lean against the counter. She met his gaze. "No, that''s it." He shrugged. "Door''s always open." As she turned to leave a realisation struck her. Her gut muscles protested for a second. She was a bounty hunter now. This was her life. The alley and the rain - the muzzle flashes - it all replayed in her mind. Her stomach twisted. The adrenaline fading replaced by a cold dread. She thought about the man''s face when she¡¯d put the scanner to his eye to claim the bounty. The finality of that only remaining eye gazing at her. Her three pinpoint accurate bullets had done ugly things to the rest of his head. Had any one of them not hit perfectly she¡¯d be dead now in the alleyway. "Hey, you okay?" Terrance''s voice seemed distant. She opened her mouth to speak but the words wouldn''t come. A wave of nausea hit her hard. She doubled over retching. Terrance stepped back just in time as she vomited onto the floor.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. She wiped her mouth, avoiding his gaze. "Yeah. Just... the meds hitting me." He nodded slowly. "Side effects can be rough." They both knew it wasn''t the drugs. "First time''s tough," he offered softly. "Gets easier." "I don''t want it to get easier," she whispered. He sighed. "World doesn''t care what we want." She straightened. Swallowing the bitter taste. She wanted to say ¡°Thanks," but could just about manage a curt nod. "Get some rest" he advised. "And seriously consider the upgrades." She forced another nod, turning away. As she walked into the maze of streets, rain continued to fall, cold drops mingling with the tears she refused to acknowledge. The city''s lights blurred, colours bleeding into one another. She pulled up her hood. Stepping fully now into the city¡¯s night. Each movement a reminder from her injuries of how close she''d come to not making it back. * The first two days were hell. Lucy lay on the stained mattress. Walls closing in. The city''s hum a distant drone. Painkillers coursed through her veins, dulling the agony, but fogging her mind. The neural link sputtered. Couldn''t hold a stable connection. Diving into the virtual escape was impossible. She was trapped in her own battered body. Nightmares haunted dreams, relentlessly, sapping any benefits of sleep. Going without the drugs wasn''t an option. She tried. Lasted maybe an hour before the pain roared back - searing and ruthless. Her shoulder throbbed. Ribs ached with every shallow breath. Terrance had promised they weren¡¯t broken. If this was bruising, she''d never felt anything like it. On the third day hunger gnawed at her. No food and no bottled drinking water in her room left. She couldn''t walk straight still, the room tilting with each step. Ordering in was the only choice. She tapped a few buttons and waited. The delivery arrived, fists pounding on the door for five minutes before she registered the sound. Her fortified door stood between them. In her haze it took ten fumbling minutes to dismantle it, the scraping metal plates clattering on the floor in disorder. The delivery driver glared - eyes scanning her dishevelled state. Disgust flashed across his face. He started to say something but she shoved a hefty tip into his hand. Money talked. Even drugged up she felt the sting of such a waste, but she hadn¡¯t the strength to take a verbal beating right now. She restocked the kitchens canned goods and instant meals. Reassembled the barricade. Each piece sliding into place with a now familiar click. Then she collapsed, with the world fading to more night-terrors. By day four she cut the meds in half. The fog lifted slightly. A notification blinked on her pad¡ªmessage from Boris. She hesitated before opening it. Apparently she''d sent him a sobbing voice note apologising for missing her regular gun range sessions. Mortification washed over her. But Boris was unflappable. His reply was cheerful and asking how she was holding up. Said not to worry, he''d been in worse shape after getting "hit by a car." She could almost hear the air quotes in his words. Boris being Boris. She cringed but felt a flicker of warmth. At least someone didn''t think less of her. She¡¯d pulled up a Trauma AI Chatbot, inputted the nightmare symptoms. The soulless machine¡¯s mental and breathing exercises seemed trite. ¡°Try and get to the root cause of the dream.¡± It recommended. Another AI Chatbot was pulled up. She inputted her numbers. 60ft. 9mm Parabellum round. What was the travel time of a bullet? How fast do people react to stimuli? What was an average reaction time to draw, aim and shoot? The chatbot crunched its numbers to the queries. The target had reacted ten to twenty times faster than a normal human. The Traumabot didn¡¯t know shit, knowing was worse ¨C all that¡¯d done was put truly petrifying real numbers to a feeling of just how overmatched she¡¯d been. But the nightmares hadn¡¯t been as bad that evening. The meditative exercises were followed. Day five the pain dulled to a manageable throb. The half-dose left her head clearer. She eyed the neural link cable and headset, the sleek device resting on the cluttered desk. Fingers traced its contours. Time to return. She settled into her bed taking a deep breath. Connected the jack to the port at the base of her skull. She ran the link diagnostic. All green. The interface hummed to life, a cascade of code and light enveloping her senses. She dived in. * The sun cast a warm golden glow over the bustling streets of Aletra. The air seemed alive with the mingled scents of spiced meats, freshly baked bread, and exotic perfumes. Colourful banners fluttered from every rooftop their vibrant hues dancing in the gentle breeze. Lethanda strolled leisurely through the marketplace. Her fingers brushing against the soft petals of flowers displayed in overflowing baskets. The texture was velvety under her touch, and she smiled at the simple pleasure it brought. "Honestly do you have to sample everything?" Ceri piped up beside her. A mischievous grin spreading across the gnome''s face. "At this rate, we''ll never make it to the quest board." Lethanda chuckled. The echoes of Druath¡¯s teases in the Forest didn¡¯t go unnoticed. She lifted a ripe apple to her lips, taking a crisp bite, the sweet juice burst across her tongue. She closed her eyes to savour it. "But how can one resist when Aletra offers such delights? Each flavour tells a story of the land." Ceri rolled her eyes dramatically. "Spoken like a true ''sensationalist.'' Next you''ll be composing odes to the texture of cobblestones." "Now that''s an idea," Lethanda mused tapping her chin thoughtfully. "Though I might focus on the melody of the fountain''s waters instead." They weaved through the crowd, the city''s energy invigorating them. Artisans showcased intricate jewellery that glittered in the sunlight. Street performers played lively tunes on lutes and flutes. Lethanda felt the rhythm of the music resonate within her, and each note seemed a heartbeat of the vibrant town. Ceri nudged her playfully. "Did you hear about PWNSTARRR?" Lethanda sighed, a hint of exasperation creeping into her voice. "You mean Arcanis Flameweaver?" "Yes, yes, but he''ll always be PWNSTARRR to us," Ceri joked. "Apparently, he can only join us for three hours maximum each night." "Parental controls," Lethanda said, shaking her head with a wry smile. "Who would have thought?" Ceri giggled. "I didn''t even realize this game was rated fifteen. Makes you wonder what content they''re trying to shield us from." A fleeting thought crossed Lethanda''s mind¡ªthose early days with Druath and their curious explorations. She remembered the way they tried to push the boundaries only to find that their avatars were impervious to certain sensations. That some areas were simply... absent. It was also impossible to remove certain garments. Leaving them perpetually modest. Ceri noticed the distant look in her eyes. "Thinking about your ''experiments'' again?" Lethanda laughed openly, the sound light and unguarded. "Perhaps. I can¡¯t believe sometimes I actually told you about that. Just reminiscing about the limits of our world." "Well, at least you saved me the trouble of finding out the hard way," Ceri remarked with a smirk. "Imagine my disappointment when I couldn''t swindle a drunken noble out of his coin with a little... charm." They both burst into laughter drawing a few curious glances from passersby. "Ah, but the thrill is in the attempt isn''t it?" Lethanda said her eyes sparkling. "Besides there''s plenty of adventure to be had without resorting to such tactics." "Speaking of adventure," Ceri gestured toward the grand hall at the end of the street. "Shall we see what grand quests await us today?" Lethanda took a deep breath, the aroma of roasting chestnuts filling her senses. "Lead the way." As they approached the hall, a familiar towering figure emerged from within. Delsadar the mighty barbarian stood head and shoulders above the crowd, his armour gleaming. A cluster of admirers surrounded him, their faces alight with admiration. "Looks like he''s as popular as ever," Ceri noted raising an eyebrow. "Can''t blame them," Lethanda replied. Tank rarity had been a perpetual VR MMORPG issue from even the earliest games. There was never enough to go around. "A warrior of his calibre is a rare find." They waved to catch his attention and Delsadar''s face broke into a wide grin when he spotted them. He strode over, the crowd parting before him. "Lethanda! Ceri!" he boomed. "Good to see you both." "Likewise," Lethanda said warmly. "We were beginning to think you''d been swept away by your adoring fans." He chuckled deeply. "They do seem eager don''t they? Unfortunately just logged on quickly to let you know I won''t be able to join you tonight. Duty calls in the real world." Ceri pouted theatrically. "And here we were, hoping to delve into the deepest dungeons with our fearless barbarian friend." "Fear not," Delsadar assured, placing a hefty hand on her tiny shoulder. "I''ll be back soon enough. In the meantime, keep our group chat lively. Your tales always brighten my day." "We''ll hold you to that," Lethanda said, giving him a mock stern look. As Delsadar departed blending back into the throng, Ceri sighed. "Seems everyone''s time is limited these days." "True," Lethanda agreed. "But at least we have each other. And there''s no shortage of newcomers seeking guidance." Ceri''s eyes twinkled. "Speaking of which, I heard there''s a fresh batch of adventurers at the tavern. Think they''d be interested in a quest or two?" "Only one way to find out," Lethanda replied, a hint of excitement in her voice. They made their way to the tavern, the wooden doors swinging open to reveal a lively scene. The air was thick with the scent of spiced ale and the sound of hearty laughter. A bard strummed a lute in the corner singing tales of heroes and forgotten realms. "Ah the sweet aroma of opportunity," Ceri quipped, scanning the room. Lethanda felt a thrill run through her. The textures around her were vivid¡ªthe worn grain of the wooden tables, the smooth coolness of the tankard she absentmindedly picked up, and the warmth radiating from the fireplace. Yes, she admitted to herself, she was every bit the ¡®sensationalist¡¯ that Ceri mocked her for being. They approached a group of clerics engaged in animated discussion. Ceri wasted no time. "Greetings! Care to join forces with two seasoned adventurers?" One of the clerics, a young woman with a serene expression, smiled gently. "We seek to bring light to the shadows of this land. Your offer is most welcome." "Excellent!" Lethanda exclaimed, her enthusiasm genuine. "Together we can achieve greatness." * As the evening wore on the tavern began to empty. The warm glow of the lanterns cast a cozy hue over the few remaining die-hard patrons. The in-game day ran much quicker than a real one, with six night and day cycles to every one outside. But the server itself was still set to Pacific Time and most of its denizens where US account holders. For many, 3am was far past time to be logging off. Ceri leaned back in her chair stretching her arms above her head. "You know, helping the newcomers has its perks. I think we''ve earned ourselves quite the reputation." Lethanda sipped her mulled wine. The spices tingling on her tongue. "And with all the major quests here completed, it''s nearly time for us to venture into new territories." "Think Delsadar and PWNSTARRR¡ªsorry, Arcanis¡ªwill be ready soon?" Ceri asked, her tone hopeful. "They''re catching up," Lethanda said thoughtfully. "We can afford to wait a little longer. After all, the journey is richer when shared." Ceri smiled softly. "Ever the sentimental one." "Perhaps," Lethanda admitted gazing into her cup. The reflection of the flickering candlelight danced in the liquid. "But there''s something to be said for cherishing these moments." Ceri broke the silence with a playful nudge. "So care to sample the famed honey cakes before we call it a night? Or is that too ¡®sensational¡¯ even for you?" Lethanda laughed. The sound bright and unrestrained. "Lead the way my friend. Let''s indulge in all the delights Aletra has to offer." They stood, making their way to the bar where a platter of golden pastries awaited. As they bit into the sweet treats, the rich flavour enveloped their senses. "Delicious!" Ceri exclaimed, crumbs dotting her chin. Lethanda nodded in agreement, savouring the taste. "Worth every moment." As their night drew to a close, they stepped outside into the cool evening air. The stars glittered overhead like scattered gems, and a gentle breeze carried the distant melody of a flute. "Another day well spent," Lethanda mused, her gaze fixed on the horizon where new adventures beckoned. Ceri placed her hand around Lethanda''s. "And many more to come." * She woke to the soft hum of the city. A distant symphony of machinery and life. Morning light filtered through the blinds, casting slatted shadows across the room. Lucy sat up, her muscles no longer aching. The memories of pain and meds now three weeks behind her. The apartment was tidy. Everything in its place. Her oiled gun rested in its holster beside the bed. She swung her legs over the edge, feet touching cool floor. The routine was comforting. A quick stretch, a glance in the mirror. The face staring back looked rested and sharper. She carried a little bit more lean muscle now. Boris¡¯s advice on push-ups and sit-ups being better than any paid-for corporate gym was paying dividends. She dressed efficiently¡ªutility pants, good worn leather boots, a plain shirt. Functional ¨C she had no-one ¨C no-one in this world anyway ¨C to play dress up for. Her new second-hand armoured overcoat was hung on the back of her chair. She¡¯d watched a vid recently on how to check over for any damage to the armour plates on used jackets, and pencilled in today as the day. Her pad blinked on the table. A soft blue light pulsing. A message waiting. She picked it up surprised to see Terrance''s name. He never reached out unless there was something in it for him. She tapped the notification, and the message unfolded. Typical Terrance¡ªprobably meant to be brief but turned into a ramble. "Hey there Lucy! Long time no see. Hope you''re keeping out of trouble¡ªor into it, if that''s your thing. So, funny story: this client of mine, Aurum¡ªreal character, let me tell you¡ªwas in yesterday getting some mods tweaked. We got to chatting or rather I was chatting while he grunted now and then. Anyway, he mentioned needing someone reliable for special deliveries. Discreet, you know? Naturally, I thought of you. "Now, I know what you''re thinking: ''Terrance, why are you volunteering me for your shady contacts?'' But hear me out. Aurum''s legit, or as legit as they come these days. Pays well, too. I might''ve mentioned your name as a solid person¡ªjust in passing! And, well, he seemed interested. "Look, I wouldn''t bring this to you if I didn''t think it could be mutually beneficial. Times are tough, and bit of extra cash never hurt anyone, right? Plus, it''d make me look good for the referral, and you know I love looking good. And... I kinda already took some cash from Aurum for saying I¡¯d reach out to you. "So if you''re interested let me know. If not no hard feelings. Just thought I''d connect two capable individuals. Stay safe out there! And drop by sometime¡ªgot some new tech you''d find interesting. Cheers! ¡ªTerrance" She read the message twice - processing. Terrance selling her out? Not exactly. More like cashing in a favour she didn''t know she owed. She doubted he knew any details about her bounty activities other than possible vague suspicions. Police bounty claims weren¡¯t 100% anonymous, they had to pay out to a legit person¡¯s account after all. But who they paid out to was always seen as super-secure, beyond the abilities of even the best hackers. She typed a terse reply: "Terrance, set up the meet. Introduction only. If I don''t like the job, I walk." A response pinged back almost immediately. "Fantastic! I let Aurum know. He agrees to your terms. Meet tomorrow noon at the old plaza caf¨¦¡ªplace with the red awning. He''ll be the one looking like he owns the place, trust me, you won¡¯t need a description. Thanks, Lucy! You''re a lifesaver." She set the pad down. Mind turning. Extra funds would help. Rent was coming up and while the last bounty money was still good, it was slowly dwindling. She''d be cautious. Terrance might be self-serving, but he wasn''t stupid. If he thought this was worth her time maybe it was. ¡°Won¡¯t need a description?¡± wondered Lucy out loud. ¡°What the hell does that mean?¡± Chapter 4 She spotted him instantly. Terrance hadn''t exaggerated. Aurum stood near the fountain, a mountain of a man in a tailored suit that fit like armour. Over six feet, broad shoulders, muscles that spoke of years under heavy iron. His black skin gleamed under the midday sun, and a long overcoat draped over his frame with casual elegance. Lucy barely reached 5''3". She momentarily wondered if this was like how Ceri felt all the time. As she approached, he turned, a smile revealing gold-capped teeth. So that''s why he chose the name. Aurum¡ªLatin for gold. She''d checked an AI chatbot earlier, curiosity getting the better of her. "Enjoying the sun?" she asked, stopping a few feet away. He nodded. "Rare to get such a clear day in this city." His voice was smooth, rich tones that carried confidence. "You''re Aurum." "And you must be Terrance''s recommendation." He extended a hand. "Shall we sit?" He led her to a secluded table at the edge of the plaza. Busy as it was, the surrounding tables remained empty. She noticed the discreetly placed ''reserved'' signs, a waiter hovering at a distance. Money had been spent to ensure privacy and personal service. They sat, and Aurum placed two small cylinders on the table, flicking them on. A low hum enveloped them. White noise generators. Conversations from nearby diners faded into the background. She opened her mouth to introduce herself, but he raised a hand gently. "Before we begin, understand that in my line of work, real names are inconvenient. Best we stick to a nickname. Something memorable.¡± She hesitated. Her real name suddenly felt too exposed now he had said that; a valuable thing that she¡¯d just been about to give away freely. She considered saying Lethanda, but her game handle seemed childish here facing a real-life man the size of Delsadar. He seemed content to wait her reply patiently, and after a moment she said, "Call me Leth." Aurum smiled again, the gold catching the light. "Leth. Strong name. Easy to remember." He signalled to the waiter, who approached silently. "Coffee for me. And for you?" "Same," she replied. As the waiter departed, Aurum leaned forward slightly. "Terrance speaks highly of your reliability." "Terrance likes to talk." He chuckled. "True enough. But he rarely vouches for someone unless they''re worth it." She glanced around, then back at him. "Why me?" "You''re under the radar. Not affiliated with any groups according to Terrance. You can move quietly." She raised an eyebrow. "You seem to know a lot about me." "Hardly anything, and definitely not enough, worse, I suspect Terrance really doesn¡¯t know as much about you as he was saying either. Which is the reason for this meet, I make it my business to know who I''m potentially dealing with." The coffee swiftly arrived. Lucy couldn¡¯t imagine getting such good service herself. She wrapped her hands around the warm cup, eyes never leaving his face. She tapped her fingers against the cup. "And if I say no?" "No hard feelings. I''ll find someone else." He paused. "But I''d prefer to work with you." "What''s the catch?" He smiled knowingly. "No catch. Just professionalism." She glanced at his suit. "You always dress this well for meetings?" He laughed, a deep, genuine sound. "Presentation matters. People judge by appearances, whether they admit it or not." "Fair enough." She sat for a moment, processing and syncing to her pocket datapad. Scanned for any bounties on Aurum. Face-match. No other details. Nothing outstanding. Clean as they come. A model citizen. "Just two model citizens having coffee at the plaza," She studied his face. It¡¯s just like Lethanda considering yet another questline from an NPC; she tried to channel that calmness and confidence. She hoped her voice didn¡¯t squeak or crack. "What''s the job?" * "Delivery. Transit jobs," Aurum said smoothly. "Point A to Point B. Simple." ¡°A mule?¡± The word rolled from Lucy with obvious distaste. ¡°No. Transit. Mules get stopped. Mule¡¯s just meat with legs. You load ''em up, and hope they don¡¯t screw up along the way. They got no skill, no finesse. They''re clueless. And if something goes sideways? They crumble.¡± Aurum¡¯s easy going tone seemed conversational, but intense. ¡°A Transit''s a professional. Precision, timing, no mistakes. They know the terrain, know the risks, and¡ªmost importantly¡ªthey get the job done. They don''t panic, they adapt. You pay them because failure isn¡¯t in their vocabulary.¡± Lucy narrowed her eyes. "I''m not a criminal. Never broken a law in my life. Don''t see how I fit into your plans." He considered her, then a soft chuckle escaped his lips. "That''s exactly why you''re valuable. You''re an unknown. Clean record. Reliable - perhaps. That¡¯s still to be tested." "Why do you think I''d be interested?" She crossed her arms. "I''ve taken a few bounties, sure." Stretching the truth, but who didn''t embellish on their r¨¦sum¨¦? "But nothing illegal. Bounty hunting is sanctioned. The police pay me for god''s sake." Aurum raised his hands in a placating gesture his gold rings catching the light. "All true. I''m not disputing that." "Then why me?" He leaned forward, eyes determined. His words were warm, friendly, and charismatic even, but spoken with an intensity. "How long do you think you can stay in the bounty game? What''s your next move? Upgrade your arsenal? Carry an illegal high-power sniper rifle around town? Can''t exactly stroll through the city with that in a duffle bag¡ªor was that your plan?" She felt a flush of irritation. He wasn''t far off. "I manage just fine." He noted her reaction, a knowing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "It''s not a hard guess. Many think the same. Then they get stopped by cops or end up on a corporate security''s radar for looking suspicious on a rooftop. Or worse, suddenly finding themselves with a few unsolved sniper murders pinned to their good names. And even if you make the shot from five hundred yards, you still have to reach the body to collect." She said nothing. His words hit home. "You''ll always have to get close," he continued. "And it''s always going to be dangerous. There''s a reason citizen bounty hunting is the deadliest profession in the country right now. The vids and Hollywood glorify it. But we all know its deadly. Messy. How long do you want to do that?" She took a sip of coffee. The bitterness grounding her. "So what''s your point?" "Wouldn''t you prefer to make good money without risking your life night after night?" His tone was earnest, almost friendly. She hesitated. "What''s the alternative?" "Transit jobs," he replied, repeating his earlier words. "Small packages. Decent pay. Lower risk. A chance for you to prove yourself trustworthy." She raised an eyebrow. "A delivery girl?¡± Lower risk he¡¯d said. Lower risk anyway than trying to assassinate cybered-up ex-military types with reaction times off the scale. Lower risk than being a bounty hunter still meant the risk was comparatively ridiculous to most. Non-delivery for a Transit seemed to translate to being dead. Aurum chuckled. "In a manner of speaking. Simple beginnings. If you''re interested." She considered pressing him on what she''d be transporting - but knew better. If it could go through standard channels, it would. "And what''s in these packages?" was the unspoken words she wanted to mouth - that went unsaid between them for a second or two. It seemed almost puerile to say it when you knew the answer. After the beat, he met her gaze evenly. "These are items that require discretion. A reliable person to ensure delivery. Nothing hazardous. Every Transit client will be vetted by me personally." She weighed his words. "I''m clean and legal." His gold-capped smile returned. "So am I." Silence hung between them. The murmur of the plaza still faded into the background. The gentle buzzing of the white noise generators omni-present. "I''ll consider the offer," she said finally. "It''s a lot to process." He nodded, reaching into his coat. He placed a sleek card on the table, embossed with a single number. "This is an old-school burner number. Practically an antique these days. It¡¯s good until tomorrow night. If you''re in, give me an audio call. If not, no hard feelings. But I won''t wait. I have other irons in the fire." She picked up the card, feeling the weight. It felt impossibly heavy. Aurum stood, picking up the white noise generators, and adjusting his overcoat with practiced ease. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Leth. I hope to hear from you." She watched as he strode away, his massive frame moving with surprising grace. A linebacker who moved like a dancer. The sounds of the plaza and city rushed back in¡ª laughing, dishes clinking, a distant siren wailing. Alone at the table, Lucy turned the card over in her fingers and drank her coffee. It tasted good. Bitter, but good, she decided. Much better than she would ever buy for herself. She savoured the taste. Spent time on each sip. It might be a while before she tasted anything of this quality again. "Just two model citizens having coffee," she muttered to herself, turning her earlier comment over and over again in her head. * Lucy sat in her dim apartment, the night sky lights flickering through rain-streaked windows. Her mind wandered. It was growing colder out there; the rain was getting sleety. Winter¡¯s harshness may have been eaten away by global warming, giving more rain, but freezing temperatures where still imminent. The city''s distant hum seeped in, a constant reminder of her isolation. Fingers hovered over the keyboard. She needed advice but had no one in the real world to turn to. Her online friends were her only refuge. She opened their group chat¡ªthe back-channel they¡¯d organised for making sure they could sync their log-in times and maximise playtime together. It¡¯d never been used like this before, would her friends mind? She¡¯d be ashamed if they objected. Lethanda: Hey everyone! Mind if I ask for some IRL advice? Responses came quickly. Delsadar: Hey Lethanda! Of course! Ceri: Absolutely! What''s on your mind? Arcanis Flameweaver: Sure thing, but just so you know, I''m not great with advice. She smiled faintly. PWNSTARRR¡ªdamnit! Arcanis - this is so Ceri¡¯s fault. He was always so earnest. Lethanda: Thanks. So, I''ve been jumping from job to job lately. Gig economy stuff. No security, kind of precarious. True enough, she thought. Precarious; ten minutes of work with an AI chatbot had gone into that word. Delsadar: Yeah, gig work can be tough. Any prospects for something more stable? Ceri: That sounds stressful. Have you found any new opportunities? Lethanda: Actually, yes. A friend connected me with a recruiter from a big corporation. Entry-level delivery job. But the company''s reputation is... not great. She recalled Aurum''s imposing figure, the dangerous aura beneath his polished exterior. Or was that fantasising? No, Aurum was alarming for all the sensible reasons a person would have. Arcanis Flameweaver: Which company? Lethanda: Strix Chemicals. They''ve had some bad press lately. Accusations of corruption, even some... darker stuff. She''d spent hours crafting this cover story with the AI chatbot weaving in just enough truth. Delsadar: Strix Chemicals? I''ve heard of them. But you know how the media exaggerates. Corporate jobs offer stability¡ªsteady pay, benefits. Lucy raised an eyebrow. Delsadar seemed awfully enthusiastic about corporate life. Ceri: How did the interview go? Lethanda: It went well. The manager was a bit intimidating. Very charming but results focused. Feels like if I mess up - I''m out. Or worse. She thought of Aurum''s golden smile and the cold calculation in his eyes. Ceri: Don''t underestimate the importance of a good boss. A bad one can make any job miserable. Could Aurum be a good boss? An unanswerable question at this point. She¡¯d never want to see his dark side that¡¯s for certain. Arcanis Flameweaver: I don''t have much, admittedly, any, job experience, but is the pay good?If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Lethanda: Yes, possibly at least the same as what I''m making now. I think. Payment hadn¡¯t even been discussed at the meet. This was a huge assumption. Arcanis maybe had a point. Was it more, less, or same? Truly she felt like an idiot for not even asking. How could she have missed something so simple? Lucy cursed softly. Clearly so intimidated by Aurum that basic questions had slipped her mind. That PWNSTARRR - Arcanis! ¨C had pointed it out, of all people, seemed to make the error worse for some reason ¨C like having your terrible blunder pointed out by a small child. Delsadar: Then I''d say go for it. Job security is important. Those news stories are often blown out of proportion. He rambled on about the perks of corporate life¡ªmedical coverage and secure housing. Lucy began to suspect he lived a double life; the unchained barbarian masking a corporate existence. Ceri: But if the company''s ethics bother you that could weigh on you over time. Lethanda: That''s what''s giving me pause. My current work is - Lucy wrote ¡°risky¡±, then spent a few moments deleting the word. Risky wasn¡¯t what she wanted her friends to read. They¡¯d worry for her. She didn¡¯t want that to weigh on them. Auto-suggestions, flicked through a page of recommendations. ¡°Uneven¡±. Yes, that was ambiguous enough. Lethanda: uneven and not sustainable, but Strix operates in a morally grey area. She pictured the dangerous path Aurum represented. A world that felt more like a dystopian video game than reality. Did she really want to be this criminals delivery girl? Arcanis Flameweaver: Maybe think about where this job could lead you in the future. Was it worth compromising her values, she mused. A clean and legit life. Her reinforced door loomed large. The steel barricading her in against the horrors outside. Where had it gotten her? Delsadar: Sometimes you have to make tough choices. The world isn''t black and white. A stable job could open doors for you. Ceri: But you shouldn''t have to sacrifice your principles. If the company''s actions bother you now, it might only get harder down the line. Lucy sighed, fingers tapping softly on the desk. Lethanda: You''ve all given me a lot to think about. Thanks so much, I love you all. ? Ceri: We''re here for you, whatever you decide. Delsadar: Keep us updated. Remember, sometimes a leap of faith is what''s needed. Arcanis Flameweaver: Good luck! Hope it works out for you. She closed the chat, the glow of the screen fading. The sleety rain intensified outside, droplets racing down the glass. The slushy mix turning to just water as soon as it hit her windows surface. She felt more alone than ever departing the chat. It was almost worse than a neural disconnect from the game. Her pad beeped, a private message. Ceri: Anytime you want to talk more, I¡¯m here for you Lethanda.? Her friends had given honest advice, but they didn''t know the stakes. Couldn''t know. She glanced at the burner number sitting on the table. Aurum assumed she was a hardened bounty hunter, someone who operated in the shadows. Terrance had oversold her, painting her as reliable and unaffiliated. In truth, she was just Lucy¡ªa lonely ghost in the city. She put down a workout mat over the worn carpet. Started her reps. Tried to blot out everything, especially thinking, with mundanity, concentrating on her breathing. * The new gun boomed in Lucy''s hands. Despite two week''s practice, the extra pound of weight still threw her off. The weight of the larger gun and clip size demanded more strength, more control. She drew, aimed, fired¡ªover and over. The gun''s slide moved smoothly - the gun link delivering superb accuracy as always. Sweat soaked her black T-shirt clinging to her slender frame. Lean muscles now stood out taut and visible under the range''s harsh lighting. As she practiced, her mind wandered through the past two weeks. The routine of the gun shop comforted her. Boris shouted occasional guidance from the back, his gravelly voice cutting through the muffled shots. Other regulars nodded in passing - a silent camaraderie. The first couple of jobs had been easy; Aurum was testing her. The packages probably weren''t even illegal or valuable. They''d switched from his antique burner to an app that destroyed messages after reading. She''d almost laughed¡ªgamers and criminals favoured the same tech. She¡¯d almost used this app for their gaming back-channel. Boom. Boom. The gun still felt like a cannon. She''d need better training grasp-balls to build up her grip strength. Maybe Boris had suggestions. Last time he¡¯d just laughed and recommended squeezing a tennis ball over and over as just as good as any machine or expensive kit. The initial messages were brief¡ªa pickup location, routes to avoid ("Don''t take a taxi." was a constant) and a drop point. The first job came at 2am¡ªtake a small backpack from a girl smoking on a street corner, walk across to Downtown, deliver it to a dangerous-looking man in a hotel room. She''d worn her rawshark mask¡ªthe one she used for bounty hunting. The man eyed her oddly and gave her a lot of polite respect when she handed over the bag. What had he seen in her constantly changing mask? Minutes later, a text from Aurum: Complimenting her on the first task, especially the ¡®Rorschach mask¡¯. "Great misdirect," he''d said. "Makes people think you''re a short man rather than a woman." She took the compliment, a bit confused. Wearing the rawshark mask had become her modus operandi. She paused after forty-five rounds fired, taking the break to let the barrel cool. She could almost feel Boris''s approving gaze. The new gun held fifteen rounds per clip versus her old nine-mil''s ten. The advantages were clear but the extra weight added up. She rested her arms. Feeling the burn in her muscles. It was a good pain. After a beat she reloaded. Four more minor Transits followed. Always similar: pick up from a stranger or a nondescript room, avoid certain routes, deliver discreetly. Instructions came at random times. She¡¯d had to use some of the interrupt and override features of the game for the first time. To trigger when a message came in the middle of a quest or dungeon. She knew the other players didn¡¯t mind, she was almost always online after all. But still. The instructions made her sometimes smirk with how gamified they seemed. "Don''t take the metro." "Avoid 5th Street." Each job felt like a piece in a larger puzzle - a rep grind or a long intricate questline. Aurum began to reveal more of himself. She preferred thinking of him as a cipher, a big bad lurking in the shadows. But his messages carried a hint of humour. "Avoid the burritos on 7th¡ªthey''re lethal," he''d quipped once. Damn if he wasn''t charming. It kept coming. There was a dry humour there. And the pay¡ªsubstantial. Each Transit wasn''t a fortune, but after three in three days, she''d earned as much as her first bounty. Boom. Boom. The gun roared at the range. One job required her to meet the drop-off person in Aurum''s presence. They both had arrived fifteen minutes early. She expected awkward silence, but Aurum wasn''t like that. He talked about cars, the game, fashion. He¡¯d shown an interest in what she had to say; even if it wasn¡¯t much. Asked about her sidearm, inspected it. "Outstanding maintenance," he''d said. "You take care of your tools." Damn his charm. He defied her expectations. Boris wandered over with a box of ammo. "More rounds?" he asked, his eyes crinkling in a smile. She nodded in thanks, a half-smile touching her features just for a second. He helped her load the clips, fingers moving deftly. "You''re getting the hang of that SIG." "Still kicks," she admitted. "You''ll adjust," he said. "Takes time." At the end of the first week¡ªseven jobs in seven days¡ªAurum met her for a drink at a bar where he seemed to know everyone. The meeting was brief, business-like, but not without warmth. He expressed genuine satisfaction that she''d passed his ¡®probation¡¯. Said she''d start meeting more of his crew. Then he handed her the new gun as a bonus. "Sitting in my locker gathering dust," he''d said. "Figured you''d appreciate it. You take care of your gear." The gun now sat before her, barrel smoking after burning through another three clips. It still felt like getting a big loot reward at the end of a long questline to her. UPGRADE. The gun turning purple like an Epic item. Her arms - especially her wrists - ached. This definitely wasn¡¯t the game world where Lethanda could pull at her bowstring, fight after fight, for hours on end - never tiring. She decided on just three more clips before cleaning. Any more would be overdoing it and risking a possible soft tissue injury. The ammo she¡¯d been handed as well was pretty Epic too. Like finding acid arrows for Lethanda¡¯s bow. The gun came with a leather bag¡ªnot the standard case¡ªand two clips of ammo. Aurum mentioned they were special rounds, not for wasting at the range. "Keep these on you when you''re out," he''d advised. She''d shown them to Boris. He¡¯d admired the SIG¡ªan older model, but well-maintained. "Late well-made copy of a classic," he''d noted. But his expression changed when he saw the rounds. "You can''t have these here," he''d hissed. "Cop killers. Military grade. Illegal as hell." "Didn''t know," she muttered, quickly stashing them away. "Possession alone could get you a sentence," he warned. "Be careful." Since then she''d only fired standard nine-mil rounds keeping Boris at ease. He''d upgraded the gun''s software to modern gun link specs. "Better compensation at range," he''d explained. He seemed happy, despite the lost initial sale. The constant cost of ammo, cleaning supplies, the gun upgrade and range time more than made up for any missing business. She kept her old gun as a backup, strapped to her leg over cargo pants. She''d practice with it tomorrow. Couldn''t lose the feel for its weight. She moved to a workbench and began cleaning. She''d grown to appreciate the ritual¡ªthe smell of oil. The methodical assembly and disassembly. Was she becoming a gun nut? No, just meticulous. A tool was only as good as its maintenance. Boris had walked her through the SIG''s care the first time - his enthusiasm evident. Two nights ago had proven the importance of her preparation. Another Transit, another sketchy pickup in a bad part of town. Near midnight, walking through areas she''d never have ventured before. The route was meant to steer her clear of gang territory. But two predators had other ideas. She sensed them before she saw them¡ªfigures emerging from an alley, shotguns in hand. They wore heavy armoured jackets with gang colours, probably more for warmth than protection. High or drunk, they thought she was easy prey. "Hey there, little thing," one slurred. "Why don''t you come keep us company?" She didn''t respond, heart pounding, but mind clear. They moved to block her path, grinning. "Don''t be shy," the other sneered. "We just wanna talk." They underestimated her. Thought she was a frightened nobody. Maybe they wanted to toy with her. She acted on instinct. Her draw had been underway even as the first one had finished speaking, shots were flying by the time the second ganger was midway through his bad vid-scripted rapist dialogue. Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom. Four shots, two each¡ª"centre mass¡± as Boris had drilled into her. No time for hesitation. They had shotguns; she couldn''t afford a misstep. They went down hard. Surprise etched on their faces. The bullets had torn through their thick armour coats like it was just a thin cotton T. The alley echoed with the fading reverberation of gunfire. Terrance had been right. Second time was easier. She¡¯d even scanned their dead eyes for the bounty cash they were both worth. She finished cleaning the gun, reassembling it with practiced efficiency. The weight felt more comfortable now, lighter, an extension of herself. Boris approached, a hint of concern in his eyes. "You good?" She nodded. He studied her for a moment. "Be careful out there. Streets are getting rougher." He gave a slight shrug. "More than usual." She packed up her gear, slinging the bag over her shoulder. A quick, sharp nod again, another tight momentary smile. "Anytime," he said with what seemed to be genuine warmth. * She lay on Terrance''s operating table with cold metal against her spine. Fluorescent lights flickered, overhead casting sharp shadows in the cramped room. Terrance hummed softly. His fingers deftly arranging instruments on a stained tray. "You''re making a smart move here," he said applying a local anaesthetic to her shoulder. "Articulation mods are the next big thing. You''ll move like water - seamless. Ever watch those old ballet vids? Poetry in motion." Lucy stared at a crack in the ceiling trying to tune out his chatter. This was all his doing¡ªweeks of messages about new stock - special deals. Cutting-edge tech. He''d worn her down. "Ball-and-socket joints are fascinating," Terrance continued. "Shoulder hip¡ªgive you full rotational movement. Then there''s hinge joints like knees and elbows. Simple but they get the job done." He chuckled. "You''d be surprised how many people overlook the basics." She drifted into her thoughts. Cyberware still unsettled her. Voluntarily replacing limbs felt like mutilation. The public agreed; visible mods were still sometimes stigmatised by mainstream. Ex-military with chrome arms struggled to find front-desk jobs. Warehouses welcomed them but not the retail world. Coloured tattoos that altered and played under the skin had taken off a few years back, hair mods had been trendy for a while. People accepted optic¡¯s as medical necessities instead of glasses. But otherwise highly visible cyber-culture was a niche; the public seemed to see no reason to slap chrome on an arm or have your eyes mirrored. That was the realm of bad vids and streams. But medical cyberware¡ªinternal, invisible¡ªthat was different. The message on articulation modification being a cure for most arthritis conditions had piqued her interest. Terrance had sealed the deal. "This''ll take a few hours," he said, massaging the anaesthetic into her skin. "Gotta work on every major synovial joint." He rambled on about synovial fluid. How it decreased with age. "Nature''s cruel joke," he called it. She thought of her late unlamented mother hunched over the kitchen table. Bottle in hand. Ranting about arthritis stealing her mobility. "Nature''s a bitch," she''d slurred. Her mom had been afraid she''d end up crippled from it like her own mother. The memory lingered like a shadow. The Transit jobs had fattened Lucy''s wallet more than ever. New possibilities opened up. But she remained frugal. Every dollar counted. "Synovial joint articulation surgery," Terrance had pitched. "Completely invisible upgrades. Special lubricants on joint surfaces. You''ll move smoother and faster. Might take some getting used to." She''d told Aurum she needed a few days off for recovery. Expected him to be annoyed. Instead he''d smiled. "Good choice," he''d said. They¡¯d chatted about what she was getting done. He made suggestions. Recommended booking a physiotherapist post-op. "Take an extra day off to relearn your movements." Damn him. He¡¯d been nice about it. She didn¡¯t even know at this point exactly why she wanted him to be a villain cypher so badly, a vid bad-guy with few redeeming features. Terrance had scoffed at the idea. "Physio? Waste of dollars. You''ll adapt naturally. You''ll be dancing in no time." She trusted Aurum''s advice. Booked the physio anyway. Hours passed. Terrance chattering turning into background music as she lay there. "Alright. Time for the neural link upgrade," Terrance eventually announced, holding up a sleek device. Her old neural link was serviceable but clunky¡ªa relic from her brief stint in an office job. It opened doors to virtual worlds but was a glaring mark on her neck. Now she could afford better. Smaller ¨C concealed from view - more powerful. "This model supports multiple submodules" Terrance said. "Your gun link and the new orientation systems - whatever you need." She nodded. The new orientation upgrade meant city maps overlaid in her vision. No more checking a datapad or tablet. Real-time updates on crime rates and gang territories - police response times. Essential information for a jobbing Transit. "All legal," she reminded herself. Well. The expensive encryption and security module Aurum had also recommended was honestly more a grey area. But getting tech hacked was a legitimate concern. The intrusion counter measures, now built-in to her neural link, made sure she had less worries. Terrance winked. "Legit as they come. You could hit up a downtown clinic ¨C sure - but they''d charge you triple for the same tech." He was self-aggrandising. But wasn''t wrong. Corporate clinics were pristine palaces with sky-high prices. Terrance offered the best the streets could afford. "Ready?" he asked, eyes meeting hers. "Do it," she said. He began. Working tools clicking softly. His voice became a steady drone - about some new series on the nets, a scandal involving a pop star, rumours of a gang shake-up downtown. She let the words wash over her, focusing on the ceiling. Her joints tingled as he worked - a dull pressure more than pain. She imagined the microscopic enhancements and the promises of smoother movement. An escape from the crippling genetic legacy her mother and grandmother had left her. "You''re gonna love the results," Terrance assured. "People pay top dollar for this." No. No. No. No. She wanted to shout at him. Necessary. Practical. Medical. Cyber was still abhorrent. Terrance hummed a tune she didn''t recognise. The drugs were making her sleepy. The procedure went on - time blurring. "All done," Terrance finally announced, waking her and stripping off his gloves. "Take it easy for a couple of days. Let everything settle." * She left the clinic with the city''s cold haze enveloping her. Dirty melting snow covered the ground adding a new texture to the grime. The streets pulsed with life - vendors shouting and ads flickering - a distant siren wailing. She moved through the crowd noticing subtle differences already. A smoother stride - less resistance. It would be very difficult to explain to anyone without a similar frame of reference. It just felt easier to move. As if she¡¯d been moving with weights strapped to her limbs before and never noticed. The neural link hummed softly in her mind and a faint overlay of her surroundings guided her path. She pulled up her orientation module briefly, the mapping softs custom AI had already been working. Hyper-detailed changes made from her visuals making subtle personalised upgrades to the existing maps she¡¯d uploaded. Garbage bins added, the wetness of an overflowing drain logged as a possible minor hazard if running. A message from Aurum blinked in her vision. Another part of the neural link upgrade. No more reliance on datapads. The new encryption and security modules possibly made her more of a ghost than ever before. "Hope the upgrades went well Leth. Looking forward to having you back to business." She allowed herself a small smile. Damn. She would have to work out at some point exactly why she hated that she was starting to like her new boss. Chapter 5 The air was thick with the scent of mildew and ancient stone. A dampness that clung to Lethanda''s skin like a second cloak. Shadows writhed along the walls of the ancient castle with the flickering torchlight. Casting eerie shifting patterns that played tricks on the eyes. She could taste the musty age of the place with each breath. A mix of dust and decay that lingered at the back of her throat. Ahead. Flames erupted from Arcanis''s fingertips. Scorching tendrils that illuminated the vast chamber. The roar of fire mingled with the guttural snarls of the snapping werewolves. Their eyes gleaming with feral hunger. The heat washed over her. A stark contrast to the chill that seeped from the stones beneath her feet. Delsadar stood at the heart of the chaos. Towering and unyielding. His arm muscles rippled beneath armour adorned with trophies of past conquests. With a mighty roar that seemed to shake the very foundations he drew the attention of the largest werewolf ¡ª a hulking beast with matted fur and fangs like daggers. They clashed. In a storm of steel and claw, the Barbarian¡¯s huge twin axes biting into flesh deeply. Each strike sending sparks and droplets of blood into the air. Ceri moved like a wraith around Delsadar. Her daggers flashing silver in the dim light. She darted out from behind him. Slicing tendons and throats with lethal precision. Before disappearing back into his shadow. The scent of blood was sharp in the air. Metallic and warm mingling with the earthy aroma of damp stone. Arcanis''s flames swirled around them. A vortex of heat that licked at their foes but left allies untouched. The fire seemed almost alive. Curving gracefully to avoid Delsadar and Ceri but enveloping the werewolves in searing embrace. The mage stood with eyes alight. The power coursing through him evident in the crackle of energy that danced along his runed robes. Firestorm, Lethanda mused. Her fingers releasing arrow after arrow in a fluid unending motion. The string of her bow thrummed with each release. A steady rhythm that matched the pounding of her heart. Arcanis had truly mastered the class ability - channelling devastation without harming his companions. Individually the flames might not fell a beast. But collectively they wore down the horde with relentless fury. A sudden howl of pain tore through the cacophony. Lethanda''s gaze snapped to Delsadar just as a werewolf''s claw raked across his chest tearing through armour and flesh alike. Blood flowed freely. Dark and glistening. He bellowed. Not in anguish but in defiance. Raising his axes to the vaulted ceiling. The animation of his battle cry was breathtaking ¨C Lethanda admitted to herself - axes crossed above his head. Muscles straining - a primal scream that resonated deep within her. The surrounding werewolves recoiled momentarily. Stunned by the display. Seizing the advantage Delsadar charged the massive beast. Slamming into it with such force that the creature was driven into the stone wall. The impact sent a tremor through the floor. Dust raining from the cracks above. From the corner of her eye Lethanda saw Piopei step forward. His clerical robes shimmering with ethereal light. Intricate runes pulsed along the fabric as he raised his staff high. A soft glow enveloped Delsadar. The grievous wound on his chest knitting together as if time itself had reversed. The scent of healing¡ªa mix of lavender and something indefinably pure ¡ª cut through the stench of battle. The smell was a source of much online debate. Lethanda swore it smelled of vanilla and cherries. Ceri had said it was like walking into a bakers. The smell of fresh bread and dough. Her suspicion was that it was different for everyone. A joke in the code from the Dev¡¯s. She couldn''t help but admire Piopei''s skill. His timing was impeccable. His dedication to the role unwavering. A valuable addition to their Guild. Despite the uncertainties that lingered. Guild. The thought tugged at her momentarily. Pulling her from the immediacy of combat. They had debated many names before settling on ¡®Fellowship of Aletra.¡¯ She hadn''t been keen on forming a guild initially; the game mechanics hadn''t supported it meaningfully anyway until the recent patch. Now with shared currencies, guild-specific loot and instanced housing it made sense. Still the shift in dynamics was something she grappled with. A feral snarl snapped her back to reality. A werewolf lunged at her. Jaws wide and eyes burning with malice. She sidestepped smoothly. The movement almost a dance. Feeling the air whip past as its claws missed her by inches. The adrenaline sharpened her senses¡ªthe coarse texture of the stone underfoot. The faint vibration of Arcanis''s spells. The coppery tang of blood. Drawing a deep breath she summoned her most potent ability. Shadows coalesced around her. A cloak of darkness that seemed to absorb the light. Above her, a spectral archer materialized mirroring her stance. The figure was wreathed in tendrils of night. Eyes glowing with an otherworldly fire. Together they loosed their arrows. Hers was tangible the feathered shaft slicing through the air with lethal intent. The spectral arrow followed. A streak of darkness that left a trail of shimmering void. They struck the colossal werewolf simultaneously¡ªthe physical arrow piercing its eye, the spectral one plunging into its heart. The beast''s roar died in its throat. It staggered. Disbelief etched across its savage features before collapsing in a heap. Silence descended, punctuated only by the crackle of fading flames and the ragged breaths of the party. Lethanda lowered her bow. Her fingers tingling from the release. If this was reality exhaustion would hit her now she knew¡ªa weight that would settle in her limbs accompanied by the slowing of her heartbeat. Instead she felt a surge of vigour as the boss died. Ceri approached wiping her daggers clean on a torn piece of cloth. "Nicely done," she said with a grin. Her eyes sparkling with the thrill of victory. "Couldn''t have done it without all of you," Lethanda replied, a weary smile. Physical exhaustion might not affect her avatar. But she¡¯d been online for ten hours now. Arcanis joined them, his robes singed but his expression triumphant. "Found these," he announced holding up a pair of gloves that seemed oddly untouched by the surrounding carnage. They shimmered with a soft light intricate patterns etched into the material. "Well-earned," Piopei said, his voice gentle. He began to tend to the minor wounds of the group. A soothing warmth emanating from his hands. Injuries started to quickly disappear. Lethanda watched him carefully. The earlier doubts resurfacing. They had debated Piopei''s place in their guild. His skill was undeniable but there was something off¡ªa hesitation in his responses. A formality that felt out of place the occasional mis-understanding to simple interactions. Was he using a translation mod? Struggling with a language barrier? Or worse. Using a banned AI RP chat mod? The idea unsettled her. She cherished genuine interaction. The nuances of personality that made each encounter unique. But now wasn''t the time to dwell on such thoughts. The air began to stir. A chill wind whispering through the corridors. The castle seemed to groan with the ancient stones shifting as if alive. Lethanda''s skin prickled, with the fine hairs on her arms standing on end. "Onward?" Delsadar''s voice was steady. But there was an edge to it ¡ª a recognition that greater challenges lay ahead. "Yes" she agreed adjusting the strap of her quiver. "The next adversary won''t wait." Literally, she thought. It was on a five minute enrage timer as soon as this boss fell. The group needed to push on quickly or risk a wipe. A mere annoyance on a Gates of Baraadon PvE server. Deadly on their hardcore RP realm. They moved as one through the labyrinthine passages. The torches here were fewer. With the darkness more oppressive. The scent changed¡ªless of decay more of something cold and unnatural. Whispers seemed to echo from unseen corners. Words just beyond comprehension. As they ascended a spiral staircase Lethanda ran her fingers along the wall. The stone was impossibly smooth. Almost slick to the touch. An odd detail, she noted¡ªa break from the rough-hewn textures elsewhere. It pulled her momentarily from the immersion. Real castles wouldn''t have such inconsistencies. She pushed the thought aside. The atmosphere was too rich. Too intoxicating to spoil with over-analysis. Every sense was heightened¡ªthe echo of their footsteps. The faint metallic taste of impending danger. The subtle shift in air pressure as they neared the next chamber. Her new neural link had allowed her to ramp the games sensation and bio-feedback settings to the very highest possible. The effect could be overwhelming at times - but absolutely worth it. Ceri had been in hysterics when she¡¯d told her. At the top of the stairs massive doors loomed before them. Carved with symbols that pulsed with a faint blue light. A cold draft seeped through the cracks. Carrying with it the distant sound of chanting. "Ready yourselves," Piopei whispered, his grip tightening on his staff. Lethanda exchanged a glance with Ceri. Both nodding in silent agreement. Arcanis''s eyes flickered with anticipation. The runes on his sleeves beginning to glow with burning flames. Delsadar placed his hands on the doors - the muscles in his arms flexing. With a heave he pushed them open. The ancient hinges protesting with a low groan. They stepped into the chamber beyond. The air was immediately different¡ªthick with arcane energy and the cloying scent of incense. At the centre stood a figure draped in tattered robes surrounded by swirling mists. Vampiric eyes met theirs a predatory smile revealing elongated fangs. "Welcome," the creature hissed. Its voice echoing unnaturally. Lethanda felt a surge of adrenaline. Her senses sharpened¡ªthe coolness of the bow in her hand, the steady rise and fall of her breath, the distant thrum of her heartbeat all syncing with the tension in the room. "Together," she whispered, drawing a silver-headed arrow. * The dungeon had been long, hard hours spent. But ahead the last of the undead guardians lumbered into view¡ªmighty creatures of bone twisted into grotesque shapes. Razor-sharp claws extended from their fingers. Barbed teeth gnashed together in silent menace. Their hollow eye sockets glowed with an eerie blue light, casting an otherworldly hue over the chamber.This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. "Let''s end this," Delsadar growled, his deep voice reverberating through the hall. His massive frame was tense. Muscles coiled like a predator ready to strike. The weight of his twin axes seemed negligible in his grasp. Lethanda felt the smooth curve of her bow beneath her fingers. The wood cool and familiar. The fletching of an arrow brushed against her cheek as she drew it back. The slight resistance of the string a comforting tension. She could taste the dampness of the air a mix of earth and something faintly sweet but rotten¡ªlike overripe fruit left for days on end. Even a ¡®sensationalist¡¯ like her was looking forward to being away from this putrid place. Beside her Ceri laughed ¡ª a bright effervescent sound that cut through the gloom. She moved like a shadow. Her leather armour whispering with each swift motion. With a flicker she vanished. Reappearing behind one of the skeletal monstrosities. Her daggers flashed in the dim light and plunged deep into brittle bone. The creature crumbled, and Ceri danced away re-emerging near Delsadar with a playful wink. "Show-off," Lethanda murmured, a small smile tugging at her lips. They unleashed their attacks with abandon. Arcanis stood slightly apart. His robes swirling around him as he summoned flames from the ether. The heat rolled over Lethanda in waves. Carrying the scent of sulfur and singed air. Fireballs erupted from his fingertips exploding upon impact and showering the area with sparks. Piopei lifted his staff. A soft glow emanating from the crystal at its tip. The warmth of his healing magic pulsed through them. Mending minor wounds and invigorating weary muscles. His chants were melodic. A gentle counterpoint to the chaos of the melee. The last two bosses had fallen with ease¡ªa testament to their groups synergy and overwhelming power. Ceri and Lethanda''s combined single target damage output was devastating to lone bosses like those. Their DPS was good. Very good. Meanwhile Piopei''s specialised buffs kept them at peak condition and added a further edge. But the final boss awaited¡ªa Necromancer. Lethanda had slain him many times before. Familiarity had bred caution; she knew his deadly mechanics demanded respect. She pushed the thought aside. No point dwelling on game mechanics now. The rain of blows continued against the undead. Ceri was in her element. Laughter bubbling forth as she weaved between enemies. Her new teleportation ability allowed her to slip behind foes. Daggers finding the gaps in their defences, before she vanished once more. The exhilaration she had for this newfound freedom of movement was palpable. "This is almost too easy!" she called out, eyes gleaming. "Don''t jinx it," Arcanis replied, a hint of amusement in his tone. Flames danced across his palms, reflecting in his eyes. Lethanda drew another arrow. The feathers brushing her skin. She inhaled deeply. The scent of aged wood mingling with the damp air. Releasing the string she watched as the arrow flew true. Piercing the skull of an advancing skeleton. It collapsed in a heap of bones the blue glow fading from its eyes. She drew another. Then another. The metronome of the repetition reminding her of the gun range somewhat. This dungeon¡¯s doing a lot for us she mused. For Delsadar and Arcanis defeating the Necromancer would unlock a questline leading to the Escar Tundras¡ªa windswept land of ice and snow. For Piopei this was a trial. Ceri as Guildmaster would decide if he was to join them permanently. The suspicion that he might be using a banned RP AI chatbot complicated things. But a decision couldn¡¯t be put off any longer. She didn''t want to think about that. Not now. The fight raged on but victory was inevitable. Everyone was in sync. The unchained barbarian¡ªDelsadar¡ªwas a force of nature. His battle cries echoing through the chamber. This was also a fight where Piopei would shine. "Your moment Piopei!" Lethanda shouted. He nodded. Eyes serene. Raising his staff he began to chant. A radiant light burst forth enveloping the remaining undead. The Turn Undead ability¡ªa damaging class skill unaffected by his healing specialisation. The creatures recoiled. Their forms disintegrating under the holy onslaught. "Bit overpowered," Lethanda muttered. Probably due for a nerf in the next patch. She shook off the thought. Focus. Ceri had proven to be the perfect Guildmaster. Her laughter and easy charm put people at ease. She''d insisted Lethanda take on the role of dungeon and raid leader. It made sense¡ªher ranger abilities were tailored for guiding others through perilous paths. Ceri led the people; Lethanda led the battles. Their synergy kept the guild strong - especially since they were online most of the time. The battle intensified. The second phase had triggered. From the surrounding graves more undead clawed their way to the surface¡ªminions. Weak individually but overwhelming in numbers. The scent of freshly turned earth and decay assaulted her senses. The ground trembled beneath the sheer volume of their advance. "Arcanis - we need crowd control!" Delsadar barked. "On it!" the mage responded. Hands weaving intricate patterns. Flames erupted in a wide arc consuming the horde. The heat was searing. Lethanda felt a bead of sweat trickle down her temple. They all played their part. Ceri darted through the fray striking with lethal precision. Delsadar held the line his axes cleaving through enemies with brute strength. Piopei''s healing light bathed them warding off fatigue. They''d needed ten signatures to form the guild. Their time spent aiding newcomers had paid off¡ªtheir friends list was extensive. Good people they''d met on their journeys. Reaching out had been easy and soon they were a guild of nearly twenty. A ¡®carebear¡¯ guild, Lethanda had thought with a smile. They weren''t rushing through game content; they savoured it. The final event phase began. Bones scattered across the battlefield -levitated. Assembling themselves into a colossal form above them. "Brace yourselves," Lethanda warned. A mighty dragon composed entirely of bone loomed overhead. Its wings spanned the width of the chamber. Casting them in shadow. The developers had cleverly faded the ceiling into mist to accommodate its size. The air grew colder, the temperature dropping sharply. Frost formed on the stones beneath their feet. "None of you shall live to challenge my master!" the dragon snarled, its voice a guttural echo that rattled in her chest. Her heart raced. The chill seeped into her but she steadied herself. Drawing a special arrow tipped with obsidian she felt the smoothness of the shaft. The delicate balance. This was it. Her arrow sliced through the air¡ªa signal. Delsadar let out a fierce roar. Charging forward with reckless abandon. "For glory!" he cried. Arcanis began casting. Arcane symbols swirling around him. The air hummed with energy. Ceri vanished into the shadows. Reappearing atop the dragon''s spine. Lethanda felt every fibre of her being focused. The sounds around her dulled¡ªthe clashing of weapons. The roars. The crackling of magic¡ªall became a distant echo. She nocked another arrow the string taut under her fingertips. "Aim for the wing joints!" she shouted. The dragon unleashed a torrent of necrotic energy. The miasma spreading across the battlefield. The stench of death intensified. A putrid odour that clawed at her throat. "Watch out!" Piopei warned, his healing aura expanding to shield them. They dodged and weaved. Each movement precise. A dance of knowing where to position themselves. Lethanda''s arrows found their marks. Piercing the delicate structures that held the creature aloft. Arcanis''s spells bombarded it with flames, even a rare lightning bolt tearing through bone. Ceri moved with lethal grace. Her daggers striking vital points. She laughed¡ªa wild unrestrained sound¡ªas she evaded the dragon''s thrashing. "Keep it up!" Delsadar encouraged, his axes cleaving into the beast''s hind legs. The dragon''s movements became sluggish. Cracks formed along its skeletal frame. Dark energy leaking out like blood. It let out a deafening roar - a final act of defiance. Low health. Execute phase. "Now! All together!" Lethanda commanded. They unleashed their strongest attacks simultaneously. The impact was catastrophic. The dragon shuddered. Its form collapsing in on itself. Bones scattered - clattering to the ground in a cascade. * She logged off but her mind refused to wind down. The game lingered in her senses. Even more so since she¡¯d maxed out the settings. The sights. The sounds. The thrill of victory. Sleep was a distant prospect. It¡¯d been taking her over an hour now after log off before rest was possible. She moved through her apartment with quiet efficiency. Each step smooth and deliberate. Muscles responded with ease now, making her movements almost graceful. Unrolling her workout mat. She dropped into push-ups. One two three¡ªeach rep steady and precise. Transitioned to sit-ups. Plank. Feeling the controlled contraction of her core. The routine helped. Burning off excess energy and refocused her on the simple mundanities of reality. Breathing. The feel of her own muscles moving. Despite all this. The thought of dialling back the neural link settings was unthinkable. She grabbed a protein bar and chewed mechanically while squeezing a tennis ball rhythmically over and over in the other. Washed it down with bottled water and swallowed her vitamin tablets. Terrance had her on max doses of Vitamin D - and others - after some recent blood work found major deficiencies. Weeks of this regimen had settled into a habit. But at 3:30 am it was still a grind. After Delsadar and Arcanis logged off much earlier she and Ceri stayed behind guiding guildmates through quests in Aletra. Piopei joined for a while. Ceri appreciated his attitude and added him to their gaming back-channel. From his availability Lucy guessed he was either a student or a shut-in otaku. Maybe both. He seemed to have nearly as much free gaming time as she and Ceri did. She eyed the new chin-up bar installed over the foot of her bed. Freshly set up yesterday. Her power tools bought to install the barricade had had another brief outing. Gripping it. She pulled herself up. One two three four five. Her arms moved with an ease that surprised her. Dropping back down she noted the lack of strain. Progress. She gave it a few seconds before another set of reps. The trauma bot''s advice had led her to mindfulness streams and vids. Her concrete apartment. Once bare. Now played soft music; bubbling brooks, forest sounds. She let it wash over her. Despite her frugality, she''d bought a small noise-cancelling generator to drown out the city''s hum. A sleep lamp and incense candles too¡ªvanilla and strawberries. Ceri had recommended them in a private chat. Harsh overhead lights were replaced by muted earth tones from the nightlight. The scent filled the room as she sat cross-legged on a new cushion before a burning candle. Decluttering her mind. Small changes, she mused. But better than nights spent swallowing vodka and crying herself to sleep. A soft ping interrupted her thoughts. Broke the moment. The neural link flashed a notification. Only one contact bypassed her ¡®Do Not Disturb¡¯ automatically. Aurum. A job. She opened the message. "Leth, I have an opportunity. Not a Transit. I need a Clean. My usual go-to is unavailable. I know you''ve never acted as a Clean and it''s a big move. But I thought I''d ask. Time-sensitive¡ªI need an immediate answer. Immediate. The client is literally standing over the bounties right now and needs a Clean on the way. Absolutely feel free to say no. You''re a Transit and you''ve never asked for more. I understand completely." She paused processing. The term ¡®Clean¡¯ carried weight. Risk. Stakes. She remembered Arcanis pointing out her past mistake¡ªnever agree without knowing the pay. She wouldn''t repeat it. She typed back: "How much?" Aurum responded instantly. "Standard bounty split on the street is 70% to the client for services. 15% to me for laundry, processing and repatriation. 15% to the Clean for claiming the bounties. For you. Since you''re an experienced bounty hunter. I''ll make it 18% to you 12% to me." She did the math. Bodies meant significant dollars. But the risk wasn¡¯t insubstantial. A sudden claim of multiple bounties could attract police scrutiny. If caught, or hell, even if just strongly suspected, as working as a Clean and facilitating criminals to cash-in the citizen could expect a murder charge of their own. One for every claim the police suspected they¡¯d made illegally. The system was there for citizens to hunt killers, they¡¯d always been the threat of abuses. Even with her track record questions would arise. Possible investigations. She might have to face cops. Explain herself. She stood up. Weighing the risks against the payout. Made her decision. The reflection in the dark window showed steady eyes. A calm demeanour. "I''m in," she sent. "Send the details." Chapter 6 The ground was a thin sheet of white. Snow clung to the city for once. Turning streets into silent corridors. Freezing fog wrapped everything in a dense shroud; visibility was shot. Aurum sent a car. No time for anything else¡ªthe client couldn''t wait. The vehicle pulled up. Beat-up and nondescript. Nothing like a taxi. That was Aurum all over: things that looked like something they weren''t. She moved down the street. Her stride smooth despite the ice. The cold air bit at her face even under her mask, but she felt distant from it. The car''s exterior was grimy but inside it was clean. Smelt faintly of citrus with a heavy side of ¡®new car¡¯. The driver nodded as she slipped in. The door closing with a soft thud. He needed no instructions; they were already on the move. Aurum had clearly given him the location. They headed toward the old docks¡ªthe warehouse district. It had worn many names over the years. Industrial District West had stuck for a while. Once a thriving hub. Now a graveyard of decaying warehouses. Companies had left. Moving south. Leaving behind empty shells filled with gangs and the homeless. The car sliced through the night, obeying speed limits. Despite the urgency Aurum wanted no attention drawn. She noticed the driver''s professionalism. I should get this guy''s card she thought. Lethanda wouldn¡¯t have hesitated to add a good player to her friends list. Why do I? Without further hesitation she leaned forward. "Can I get your contact info?" He glanced in the rearview mirror a hint of surprise. "Sure thing." Over his shoulder he handed back a card with a simple handle on it. "Message me, I''ll send you my rates. Any friend of Aurum''s is welcome." "Appreciate it." She slipped the card into her pocket, her movement fluid. She realised she must look intimidating¡ªa silent figure in an armoured coat. Rawshark mask on. Likely carrying heat. Maybe she needed to be more aware of that. "What''s the area like?" she asked, trying to break any lingering tension. He seemed pleased to talk. "By day about three hundred thousand people. But it''s rough. Gangs run the streets openly. Cops roll through. But only in packs. I get my news from the local Sodo Times¡ªbest source for what''s really happening around there. You should check it out if you''re working here for a while." She nodded. "I''ll do that." She thought of Riverside News; maybe they were connected. "At night cops don''t bother unless it''s a full-scale riot. Citizen justice takes over. Not all gangs are bad though. Some are just folks protecting their own from worse." "Must be tough living there." He sighed. "It is. Abandoned warehouses fill up with homeless. On a night like this anyone sleeping rough outside might not make it till morning without shelter." A ping in her neural link cut the conversation short. Aurum''s message: "Lioncourt will meet you on-site. He''ll direct you to the bounties." Another message followed: "He''ll be the one with the fake French accent. Roll with it. He''s solid Leth. But beware: don''t let him set you up with any of his friends on a blind date." She smirked under the mask. Humour from Aurum, or a real warning? She typed back: "Dangerous?" His reply was instant: "Absolutely. Met my wife that way. Damn dangerous." Despite herself she smiled. The car slowed as they approached the destination. She checked her gear¡ªeverything in place. The driver pulled up to the curb. She stepped out. Movements precise on the slick pavement. * The freezing fog wrapped the world in grey. Muffling sound and blurring edges. Snow crunched softly underfoot as Lucy approached the fenced gate. Beyond a warehouse loomed¡ªa dark shape against the night. The gate''s lock hung mangled. Broken apart with brutal force. She moved smoothly. Each step deliberate. The silence pressed in thick and oppressive. She suddenly regretted not taking Terrance''s advice on ultrasonics. Or at least springing for low-light goggles. Visibility was a joke¡ªtwelve feet before everything faded into mist. The client was supposed to be here. Her hand hovered near her hip. Fingers flexing. Drawing her gun might spook him; not drawing left her exposed. She wrestled with the decision. Senses on high alert. Slipping through the open gate she entered the driveway. The warehouse loomed. Larger shadows pooling around its base. A whisper brushed her ear. "Merci, for being on time," a voice murmured. She flinched only slightly. Didn''t gasp. The adrenaline shot hit her hard though, her heart sounded like a continuous cannon in her eardrums. She impressed herself by keeping her breathing even, extremely thankful suddenly for the mask hiding her absolute shock from view. There had been no-one. Absolutely no-one, around just seconds before. He stepped into view¡ªa tall well-built man with golden blond hair and skin like ivory. Piercing blue eyes met hers. A hint of amusement there. "My apologies Leth," he said, the French accent pronounced. A half bow. "It was unkind to startle you." "It''s fine," she replied evenly. Heart still pounding hard. They both knew he¡¯d enjoyed it. He arched an eyebrow. "Votre sang-froid is admirable." She took him in. Impeccably dressed in stylish form-fitting body armour. A thick duster draped over him. Pockets bulging with ammo. A black SMG with an oversized suppressor hung from one shoulder. Across his back¡ªsome fearsome illegal beast of a weapon? Lucy was no gun-nut despite her range time. An auto-shotgun she guessed. Possibly more concealed. A groove marred his cheek. Like a bullet had carved through but left no blood. The wound site looked almost ceramic. Cracks arching out. His coat bore signs of heavy hits. But he stood as if untouched. Lucy knew the bruising impact of those kinds of hits well. To keep standing afterwards. To ignore the pain completely. That spoke of heavy enhancements. "Shall we proceed," he suggested, gesturing politely. She nodded. Falling into step beside him. Her movements fluid, almost effortless. They circled the warehouse perimeter. The first body lay sprawled near a stack of crates. Lioncourt knelt gracefully commenting "He should have watched his flank, non?" She pulled out her scanner tapping the dead man''s eye. A soft beep confirmed the bounty claim. "Bullet wounds don''t match my nine-mil," she noted. He smiled lightly. "Les flics won''t mind. But if it eases your concerns - perhaps a discreet double tap?" She considered it. "Good idea." Drawing her backup pistol she fitted the suppressor with practiced ease. Two quick shots to the head. The sound muffled to a sharp crack. If the taxi driver was right about the police in this neighbourhood, no-one would be investigating those. "Tr¨¨s efficace," Lioncourt remarked. They moved on. The second body slumped against a wall. "Poor aim," he observed. "C''est dommage." Exaggerating for effect, Lucy noted silently. The poor sap hadn¡¯t even cleared his holster, never mind shoot with poor aim. Lioncourt was quietly delighting in this ¡®show and tell¡¯. She repeated the scan and double tap. Third body was near the loading dock. She scanned. Dispatched. "You''ve been busy," she said. He gave a modest shrug. "A gentleman doesn''t brag. But I am pleased you notice my artistry." "None of them drew their weapons." He nodded. "They lacked initiative. Unfortunate for them." "Impressive," she admitted. "Vous ¨ºtes trop aimable," he replied with a slight bow. She felt a flicker of unease. Three bounties already. How many more before the police system flagged her? He seemed to sense her hesitation. "Shall we venture inside? There are a few more awaiting your attention." * The sharp scent of antiseptic slammed into Lucy as she stepped inside. It mingled with an overpowering odor of bleach. Like someone had spilled barrels of it. Stark overhead lights blazed. Casting everything in harsh relief. The scene hit her like a gut punch. An organ-harvesting chop shop. A place of cleavers, meat hooks and nightmares. Lioncourt drifted past her unruffled. "Quelle horreur," he murmured, his French accent wrapping around the words. She steadied herself. Trying not to see the details. But unable to unsee them. Four blood-soaked gurneys lined the room. Each held a victim. Coolers sat at the ends. Some open. She focused on Lioncourt and the bodies on the floor he pointed to. Narrowing her vision. He stood beside the first body waiting quietly. A ganger lay on the floor. Medical gloves slick with blood. Wearing a butcher''s plastic apron drenched in gore. She approached. Scanning the dead man''s eye with her device. The confirmation ping sounded too loud in the oppressive silence. As she double-tapped his head with her silenced pistol Lioncourt mused, "Dante would have reserved a special circle of hell for one such as him." They moved on. She tried not to look at the table¡ªa young fragile form lay there. She didn''t want to see. Knowing would be too painful. Instead, she stared at the "surgeon" nearby. But that was its own kind of horror. The target had been cut in half at the waist. His torso lay several feet away from his legs. Lioncourt had kindly turned the torso for her to scan. "Il m¨¦rite ce qu''il a eu," he said softly to her. He retrieved a rough blanket from a corner. Lucy dared not look as he covered the child''s body murmuring a prayer in French. She scanned the surgeon''s eye. No criminal record. No bounty. "He''s not a convicted murderer," she managed to say out loud, a knot forming in her stomach. "No bounty." Lioncourt seemed unfazed. "Unfortunate about the bounty money," he said, touching the blanketed form. "But you think he is innocent? Apr¨¨s tout ce qu''il a fait?" Her composure wavered. As far as the city was concerned Lioncourt had killed an innocent man. Murder. And she was implicated. Standing here scanning bodies. He noticed her hesitation. "Is there a problem mademoiselle?" "It''s just..." She took a breath. "We''re supposed to target criminals with bounties. This could bring unwanted attention." He shrugged elegantly. "Les lois sont imparfaites. Sometimes we must act." Lucy didn¡¯t have the energy to even consider arguing the point. They moved to the next bodies. The two remaining gurneys held human wrecks¡ªbodies already harvested. Coolers likely full. She noticed nearby boxes labelled for cyberware ¨C a crude jar filled with bloody neural links. She needed a distraction before she vomited. "Why are you here?" she asked, scanning and double-tapping another corpse. "Is this a gang hit?" Lioncourt smiled faintly. "Non, just out for a stroll. Came across this haunt of organ harvesters. Thought it was my civic duty to tidy up." She almost laughed despite herself. The way he said it sounded completely genuine.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! "You''re kidding," she said. He met her gaze. "Je suis s¨¦rieux. One must contribu¨¦ to soci¨¦t¨¦." She approached the last body. Maybe there was a truth somewhere in what he was saying. "How did you find this place?" she asked. "I heard from locals I was delivering food to that a chop gang had set up here," he replied. She looked at him sceptically. "You deliver food?" "Oui. To those in need." She scanned the final eye. Confirmation pinged. Six kills. One problematic dead body without a bounty. "Why help?" she asked holstering her device. "There''s nothing in it for you." "Au contraire, mademoiselle." He smiled. "That''s why you''re here. You make it worth my while." To her horror he moved toward a door leading deeper into the building. "Wait," she called out. "There''s more?" He glanced back. "But of course. Our work is not yet done." * They stood outside the warehouse. Dawn crept over the horizon. The sky bruised. Purple to pink. Casting long shadows. Lucy felt every one of the nearly twenty hours she''d been awake. Adrenaline crashes and the horrors inside the warehouse wore on her. "Seventeen bodies," she said quietly. "Fourteen bounties." "Oui," Lioncourt replied adjusting his coat with practiced ease. "A productive evening, non?" "Three of them weren''t on any list." He smiled faintly. "Some evils go unrecorded mademoiselle." She scanned his face again. No bounties, no criminal record. Model citizen. The scanner lied. "It says you''re legit," she said aloud. "If that''s true - why do you need a Clean?" He feigned offense a hand over his heart. "Vous me blessez. You wound me. Is it so hard to believe I am but a humble good Samaritan?" She met his gaze. "Yes." He seemed to be enjoying her directness. She suspected that no-one ever spoke to him like this. Probably no-one had the guts once they knew how lethal he was. He chuckled. "Very well. My ident is courtesy of a friend¡ªPerilous. Short for Siege Perilous. Hacker extraordinaire. Aurum hasn''t introduced you?" She shook her head. "No." More nicknames. She¡¯d have to look that one up with an AI too later. "A shame. A woman of great skill and artistry." He looked out at the waking city. "Your ride awaits." A sleek black and red self-driving Italian sports car pulled up. Purring softly. Of course he would deliver charity food parcels in something like this, Lucy sighed. She was no car-geek, but everyone knew that hood-badge. "I can get my own way home," she said hesitating. "Nonsense." He opened the door with a flourish. "Please allow me." She considered it. Despite everything, he seemed sincere. The most dangerous man she''d ever met. Yet he believed himself a gentleman. She slid gracefully into the passenger seat, the leather cool beneath her. He joined her. The car gliding forward. The city unfolded before them bathed in the soft glow of sunrise. Towers pierced the sky. Their glass facades reflecting gold. "Beautiful, isn''t it?" he mused. She nodded. "Rare to see it like this." "Too often we forget to look up," he said. "We''re so focused on what''s below." She glanced at him. "Even you?" He smiled. "Even me. Ma gracieuse mademoiselle. Even me." They drove in silence for a moment. The events of the night pressed on her. The cages they''d passed. The freed captives. "You¡¯d let them go before I arrived," she said suddenly. "Oui. Bien s?r! They deserved a chance." A suspicion ran through her mind. "How many times have you done this?" He chuckled. "Enough to make a difference." "Why?" He tilted his head. "Because mademoiselle, even in darkness one must kindle light." She frowned. "You kill without remorse, collect the bounties, but free the victims?" He sighed softly. "Life is a tapestry of contradictions. I eliminate monsters so others may sleep peacefully." "But who decides who''s a monster?" He looked at her. Eyes reflecting the rising sun. "Sometimes we must." She looked ahead. "And if you make a mistake?" He shrugged. "We all must answer for our actions. Dans cette vie ou la prochaine." She absorbed that. Wishing somewhat that she¡¯d gone for an AI translation module for her neural link. Was this how Piopei felt all the time? Watching the streets blur past. His words unsettled her. Yet there was a strange comfort in them. The car slowed as they neared her stop. She''d given an address two blocks from home. "Thank you for the ride," she said. "Le plaisir est pour moi." He paused. "Perhaps you''d allow me to buy you a drink tomorrow night?" She hesitated. "I''m... I''m gay." She was glad the mask hid how flustered she was at the question. His face lit up. "Magnifique! Even better. I know just the place. I assure you - pure friendship and good company." She searched his expression. Sincere. "Okay," she found herself saying. "Why not?" She flicked him her app contact. "Parfait! I shall send details." She opened the door stepping out gracefully. The morning air was crisp. Carrying the scents of a city waking up. "Until tomorrow, mademoiselle," he called. She nodded. Closing the door. The car slipped away. Underneath the accent and charm she sensed loneliness. A dangerous man seeking connection? He¡¯d enjoyed the challenge in her voice. Delighted in her questioning. She walked the remaining blocks home footsteps light on the pavement. The world around her stirred. Oblivious to the night''s shadows. Inside her apartment she locked the door. Leaning against it. Her barricade against the world awaited being rebuilt. Exhaustion washed over her, but sleep wouldn''t come easily. Why did she agree to drinks? The motivation for agreeing seemed elusive. Ceri¡¯s reminder that "sometimes a leap of faith is what''s needed" echoed in Lucy¡¯s mind. Drinks with the morally ambiguous, and terminally dangerous, maybe weren¡¯t what were meant. Lioncourt seemed to derive pleasure from killing. He was ruthless, manipulative even. A different brand of calculated charm and charisma than Aurum maybe, but still the same methods. She moved through the small apartment space. Each action measured. Setting her gear aside. Washing her hands splashing water on her face. Her reflection stared back from a mirror. She repeated Lioncourt¡¯s words to the empty room in her best faux-French accent. ¡°Life is a tapestry of contradictions.¡± * The last task before bed. Lucy pulled up her account. Fourteen bounty claims processed on high-value targets. She summoned an AI bot to crunch the numbers¡ªher 18% cut amounted to a tidy sum. Almost five times what she''d earned on her first bounty. An hour slipped by. Then another. Didn¡¯t know what to say to Aurum. She¡¯d screwed up by taking that many. Fatigue gnawed at her edges but she knew sleep wasn''t an option yet. She needed to close the loop. She initiated a vid call. No texts this time. Face the music time. He answered promptly. "Leth." "Aurum." "First things first," he said. "Transfer the funds minus your cut to the interim account I just sent. Then run the executable." She complied. Instantly her screen flooded with a cascade of transactions. Receipts for e-products she''d never use. In-game purchases for games she''d never played or heard of. Credits for a theme park half a continent away. Hundreds¡ªno thousands¡ªof micro-transactions painting an elaborate e-trail of her splurging a small fortune. "Creative accounting?" she remarked. He chuckled softly. "Smoke and mirrors. Keeps the taxmen and other eyes uninterested." She watched the digital whirlwind settle. "Client satisfied?" "Very. But ¨C fourteen, Leth?" She paused. "Problem?" "Even Lioncourt was surprised you didn''t stop after six. Most Cleans would''ve." She suppressed a grimace. Internally she screamed at herself. I could have stopped? The conversation replayed in her mind. He¡¯d never insisted she continue. Just gentle nudges. "Our work is not yet done," he¡¯d said in that damned faux-French accent of his. She cursed under her breath. She''d been played. Aurum filled the silence. "Look it''s not an issue. Just unexpected. You''re thorough¡ªI''ll give you that." "Client''s happy," she said evenly. He noted her tone. "True. Everyone profits. Just concerned about your exposure. Fourteen bodies will bring heat. You will be talking to a cop soon." She clenched her jaw. "Lioncourt knew what he was doing." Aurum''s voice softened. "He can be... persuasive. But that''s why he''s a valuable part of my crew." She exhaled slowly. "I''ll handle any fallout." He seemed to smile. "That''s the spirit. I knew you''d be a solid Clean. You go all in." "About the three without bounties," she began. "No such thing," he interrupted. "What do you mean?" "There''s no record of unsanctioned kills," Aurum explained. "Lioncourt tipped off a cop friend about the warehouse. Made him look good¡ªa neat bust. Chop shop shut down. Bodies attributed to a bounty hunter. Paperwork''s clean. All like a Christmas present wrapped with a nice bow for him." She rubbed her temples. The weight of exhaustion pressed harder. "So it''s handled." "Precisely. No one wants extra complications¡ªnot the cops. Not Lioncourt. Not you." She searched for words but found none. Her moral compass was spinning wildly. She didn¡¯t want the trouble yes ¨C but three supposedly legit people had just disappeared without a trace. Aurum misread her silence. "You did exceptionally well. Just be prepared¡ªthe police will have questions about fourteen claims in one go." "I''ll deal with it," she repeated, trying to keep her voice level despite her seesaw of emotions. "That''s why I trust you." There was a moment of quiet. Then Aurum added casually, "Oh, and Lioncourt mentioned he''s taking you to Echochamber tomorrow night." She raised an eyebrow. "Is he now?" "Says he''s finally introducing you to Peril." "Peril?" "Our resident digital phantom. I apologise for not connecting you two sooner. She''s crew like Lioncourt. Play nice." She smirked slightly. "Is that a warning?" "Friendly advice," he replied his tone light. "Peril can be... particular." She leaned back, the edges of her vision blurring. "Noted." "Get some rest Leth. You''ve earned it." "Will do." "And Leth?" "Yes?" "Impressive work tonight." Damn him. Both him and Lioncourt. Both deployed charm like weapons. She disconnected without replying. Letting the silence settle. Questions swirled in her mind. A fatherly warning from Aurum? Three dead bodies just vanished by a cop? Why didn¡¯t she think to stop at three or six? The last one she cursed Lioncourt¡¯s name for yet again. She stood. Crossing the room to her bed she caught her reflection in the window¡ªa figure moving with uncanny grace barely disturbing the shadows. Sleep. She desperately needed sleep. * She woke as dusk settled. The city''s hum seeping through her window. Moving with quiet efficiency Lucy gathered her gear and headed out. The snowy streets were a blur of neon and shadow as she made her way to the range. Boris had been busy, with two weeks till Christmas even he had slung up some decorations and a surprisingly good tree. Boris greeted her with a curt nod. "Looking for something new?" he asked. "Thinking about goggles," she said. Remembering her experiences. "Need better vision at night. Small ones that can operate under a mask." He scratched his chin, but smiled. "I like it. Many folks go for cybereyes these days. All the gadgets built-in. Horrifying things. Can you imagine it? Volunteering to get your eye¡¯s scooped out? Not you Lucy. Not you.¡± She shook her head. "Not me." She repeated. He smirked. "Got a set that syncs with neural links. Designed for ''night-time big game shooting.''" He didn''t physically use air quotes, but she felt them anyway. He shuffled off to a backroom, returning moments later with a bright cerulean box. "Sounds ideal." She examined the goggles. Thin as she needed. Top-end model. Ultrasonics upgrade included. The specs claimed seamless integration with neural link software. "Gear upgrades," she murmured, a faint grin touching her lips. Even the box it came in was blue for rarity. He raised an eyebrow. "What was that?" "Nothing. Christmas present for myself." She set the goggles aside. "I''ll take them." "Good choice." She spent the next few hours on the range. Her grip training with tennis balls had paid off. The weapon felt like an extension of her arm now. Draw. Aim. Fire¡ªeach motion fluid and precise. Boris watched from a distance arms crossed. "That joint mod of yours," he called out. "Still think it''s a shortcut." She holstered her gun smoothly. "Helps with speed." He nodded begrudgingly. "Can''t argue with results. But muscle and bone¡ªthat''s where real strength is." She nodded silently. She agreed completely. But the enhancement was becoming second nature. Night deepened. The range emptied out. "Take care" Boris said as she headed out. Another nod. He deserved more, she thought. Maybe she should buy him a present? It was tough to know. She¡¯d never been good at understanding social niceties. Even as a kid - especially as a kid. Back at her apartment she moved through the space with practiced ease. Before logging on, she checked the group''s out-of-game back-channel. Her eyes scanned the messages. Then froze. A devastating post from Ceri drove her to her knees in an instant: Delsadar is dead. Chapter 7 She stared at the screen. Vision blurring through unshed tears. The message was stark. Her world constricted. All she could see was Delsadar''s towering form and his laughter echoing in her mind. Her hands trembled as she gripped the pad. Arcanis: How? A pause stretched out. Heavy and suffocating. Piopei: Undersea Caverns. Fourth boss. Naga Queen''s Protectors phase. Lucy knew that fight inside out. High damage for sure but nothing they couldn''t handle. With Delsadar tanking and Piopei healing they''d breezed through it before. Her thoughts fractured as a new message popped up. Delsadar: ******* lag spike! Fifteen seconds of ******* nothing! Delsadar: ******* *******! I can¡¯t believe those ******* ******* ******* useless ******* lag spike. The profanity was masked by stars by the content filter, but his frustration was palpable. She exhaled sharply. The fog lifting slightly. Hard to mourn a man who''s cursing up a storm right beside you. Anyway, suddenly noticing that Ceri had placed the profanity filter on their back-channel for the sake of Arcanis was a moment of pure laugh-out-loud joy amid the bleakness. She chuckled. Her emotions seesawing. Her knees throbbed; she hadn''t realised she''d sunk to the concrete floor so hard. Rising gracefully she moved to the fridge retrieving ice for the inevitable bruises. Lethanda: I''m so sorry. Wish I''d been there to help. Piopei: Nothing anyone could''ve done. We all lagged out. Fifteen seconds frozen then bam¡ªDelsadar¡¯s taken massive damage. Rest of us bailed. Arcanis: That''s brutal. We should hit up a GM. Get this fixed. Ceri: Not on hardcore servers. It''s all in the EULA we didn''t read. Dead is dead. Lag included. Arcanis: That''s messed up! Total dev abuse! Piopei: She''s right. No do-overs here. Delsadar: This is ********! ******** dev¡¯s and ******** lag. ******** ********. Lucy felt the weight of it. The harsh reality of hardcore realms. No second chances. But they''d all chosen this path. It made every breath sweeter; every fight more intense. Lethanda: Absolutely gutted for you Delsadar. So, so sorry my friend. Delsadar: Thanks. Over 200 hours down the drain. Months gone. Gonna miss being him. Ceri: This isn''t the end. We''re a guild. We''ll back you whatever you roll-up next. Delsadar: It''s more than that. I''m so far behind now. Limited playtime as it is. Lucy was suddenly afraid. Would they be losing Delsadar all over again? Piopei: What if we share your account? I''m online a lot. I could help grind out some quests for you and get you levelled up in no time. Happy to commit three or so hours a day till you¡¯re back on your feet. Lucy grimaced. Account-sharing. The idea of someone else piloting Lethanda made her skin crawl. But despite that, Piopei¡¯s swift suggestion was a welcome one. The specialised healer clearly wanted his ¡®best bud¡¯ tanking partner back as soon as possible. She couldn¡¯t blame him, the rest of the guilds tank¡¯s weren¡¯t on the same level as Delsadar. Ceri: I''m in. I can put in a few hours daily to help you catch up. Delsadar¡¯s new character would fly through the levels being handled by experienced players like Ceri and Piopei, Lucy thought. Arcanis: Can''t promise much time but I''ll assist however I can. Maybe clear tough zones with you. Lethanda: I''ll help too. We''ll get you back on your feet. There was a pause. Delsadar: You guys... Thank you. Delsadar might be gone - but this friendship isn''t. Lucy thought of Druath. If they''d had this connection outside the game maybe things would''ve been different. Ceri: Let''s honour Delsadar properly. Guild event. Get everyone together to celebrate him. Delsadar: Taking down that ******* Naga Queen would be a start. Laughter bubbled through the chat. Arcanis: Poetic justice. I''m in. Piopei: Let''s do it. Lethanda: Agreed. For Delsadar. Ceri: It''s settled. We''ll rally the Guild and plan the assault on the Naga Queen and her Protectors. Lucy''s fingers hovered over the keys. Despite the sorrow, the ripsaw of emotions she¡¯s been on the last fifteen minutes or so, a warmth spread through her. They weren''t just players; they were a team, a crew. Back at the screen. Messages poured back and forth as the guild event plans quickly took shape. * The air was crisp atop the Spine Mountains. The scent of pine mingling with the cool whispers of the evening breeze. Lethanda sat in a verdant clearing. Her fingers lightly tracing the soft petals of wildflowers that dotted the grass. The sky stretched out before her. A tapestry of deep purples and golds. The sun dipping low and casting a warm glow over the distant Farmlands and the Great Forest beyond. She closed her eyes. Feeling the gentle caress of the wind against her skin. The taste of the mountain air fresh on her lips. The world felt alive here¡ªevery rustling leaf and distant birdcall a symphony that resonated within her. It had been a good day she decided. An excellent day for the guild. Her thoughts drifted back to the morning''s events. The Fellowship of Aletra had gathered to honour the memory of their fallen warrior Delsadar. In their roleplay lore they had woven he had perished at the hands of the malevolent Naga Queen who wielded forbidden magics condemned by the gods themselves to bring about his death. Their quest for retribution had been both a tribute and a rallying cry. For two hours the guild had delved into the Caverns. Splitting into teams of five to see who could defeat the Naga Queen the fastest. Though Lethanda''s team hadn''t claimed victory, the camaraderie and fierce determination shared among them had been invigorating. She smiled recalling the spirited exchanges with newer guild members she''d barely known before today. The scent of wild thyme brought her back to the present. She opened her eyes gazing out at the vast expanse below. The Farmlands spread like a patchwork. Quilt fields of amber and green stretching toward the horizon. The Great Forest stood as a dark emerald sea its canopy whispering secrets she longed to uncover. ¡°What a spot,¡± she mused. After the event they''d all returned on their mounts to the game''s starting area. There they''d welcomed their newest Guild member - Delsadar''s new incarnation; Kurgrim Bloodaxe, a stout Dwarf Shield-Warrior. Lethanda chuckled softly. Of course he chose the class renowned for its unparalleled ability to hold aggro. Delsadar did love being at the heart of the fray. Ceri had led a touching ceremony. Kurgrim pledged his axe and eternal service to the Guild. Ceri vowed the Fellowship of Aletra¡¯s unwavering support in return. The formalities had an old-world charm and everyone had played their parts well. Lethanda had cried a little. Knowing that Ceri and Piopei planned to ferociously power-level this avatar over the next two weeks made it all the more endearing too. A soft purr drew her attention. Her new mighty mount¡ªa sleek magnificent cat with fur that shimmered like silver in the fading light¡ªlounged nearby. Ceri''s laughter rang out like a melody. "You know," Ceri teased her eyes sparkling. "I think you got that beast just so you could rub its belly." Lethanda grinned a playful glint in her eye. "Can you blame me? Look at him. He''s irresistible." They both laughed. The sound blending with the rustle of the leaves. Ceri had outdone herself laying out a lavish banquet. Quite literally fit for a full raid party. Platters of succulent meats fresh fruits glistening with dew and flasks of honeyed mead were artfully arranged on a richly woven blanket. The aromas were intoxicating¡ªspiced cider warm bread and the faint hint of lavender. As Lethanda took in the scene. A realisation settled over her. This wasn''t just a friendly gathering between two friends, a post guild-event chat time. This was a date. A picnic beneath the twilight sky. Ceri settled beside her, gaze soft. "It''s beautiful up here isn''t it?" "Stunning," Lethanda agreed, her voice barely above a whisper. "I didn''t even know this place existed." "Not many do," Ceri replied. "It''s a hidden gem. I thought it''d be nice for us to have a place that''s just... ours." Warmth spread through Lethanda''s chest. "I''m glad you brought me here." Ceri reached out her fingers brushing against Lethanda''s hand. Her touch was warm - sending a gentle thrill up her arm. "I''ve been meaning to tell you," Ceri began her tone earnest. "I''m so proud of everything we''ve accomplished together. The Guild. The adventures... You''ve become such an important part of my life." Lethanda felt a flutter in her stomach. "I feel the same way. Meeting all of you¡ªit changed things for me. Gave me confidence I didn''t know I had. I''ve never been great at making friends," she admitted, her gaze dropping to their entwined fingers. Ceri''s thumb traced soothing circles on the back of her hand. "Well you''ve got one now. A very grateful one." Silence enveloped them comfortable and filled with unspoken words. Lethanda''s heart raced. She was acutely aware of the softness of Ceri''s hand. The way the fading light cast a golden halo around her. She wanted to close the distance between them. To express the myriad emotions swirling within her. But uncertainty held her back. Ceri''s eyes met hers. A question lingering there. Then with a gentle smile she leaned in. Their lips almost met in a tender kiss. The game stopped them an inch apart. It didn''t transmit any sensation whatsoever¨C player-on-player near contact in that area created a void sensation zone for both players momentarily ¨C not even their breath registered. Despite all this, Lethanda''s heart soared. The absence of physical feeling didn''t diminish the warmth that bloomed within her. When they parted Ceri''s cheeks flushed ever so slightly. "I''ve been wanting to do that for a while," she confessed a hint of shyness breaking through her usual cheerfulness. Lethanda''s smile was radiant. "So have I." They sat together as the stars began to emerge. Dots of light piercing the deepening blue. The world around them faded leaving just the two of them wrapped in their shared moment. "Tell me something," Ceri said softly. "What''s your favourite thing about this place?" Lethanda considered her gaze drifting back to the horizon. "It''s the sense of possibility," she replied. "Up here it feels like anything is achievable. Like the world is vast and full of secrets. Waiting to be discovered." * A police detective stood outside her door as Lucy approached. His posture polite. But unmistakably official. No badge in sight. But after spending an hour today with detectives, she knew the type. She cursed under her breath. The day had started so well. After Ceri''s incredible evening she''d woken with a surge of energy she hadn''t felt in years. Not a sexless doll after all she mused¡ªjust underappreciated. The kiss she couldn''t feel. The hand-holding that sent sparks through her. She''d awakened... Well. Restless. Happy and restless. But everything had gone downhill from there. First two messages in a row. Lioncourt, ever the gentleman, with his faux-French charm invited her out tonight if she wasn''t busy. He¡¯d given her an easy out which she appreciated. But maybe dancing would help burn off some of this excess energy she¡¯d decided. EchoChamber at 10 p.m. Reserved booth. Her name on the list.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. Of course he''d get a reserved booth. Another power play. She¡¯d sent back her acceptance. Her thoughts snapped back to the present. She had a choice: turn around or face this head-on. Lethanda never shied away. Neither would she. Damn it. Let''s get this over with. She strode up to the detective projecting a confidence she didn''t entirely feel. The day had been long. He introduced himself. "Detective Anderton. John Anderton." Polite formal. He presented his badge slowly giving her ample time to inspect it. She noticed his deliberate movements¡ªthe way he drew out his badge. Had turned toward her with exaggerated care. He looked fit and healthy enough. Is he ill? Was he trying not to spook her? "You''re Lucy Kellaway?" "That''s me." She sighed, fatigue seeping into her voice. "This about those three street gangers I claimed on earlier? I''ve told the other officers everything I know." His eyes widened slightly at her casual mention of killings. "No," he replied. "It''s about your fourteen claims the other night." He glanced around the empty hallway appearing nervous. "Would you prefer to talk inside?" She considered him for a moment. He waited patiently. With a silent command to her neural link she unlocked the door and gestured him in. He hesitated. Then stepped inside. A flicker of curiosity crossing his face as he took in the cramped space. Lucy entered behind him. Shrugging off her dirty armoured coat. More repairs needed. At least there were no bullet holes this time¡ªjust tears and grime. The scent of hot cordite and sweat clung to her. She caught a whiff and grimaced. Not the day of pampering herself for a night-out as she¡¯d imagined. After Lioncourt''s message had arrived she''d showered. But halfway through Aurum had pinged with an urgent transit job. Immediate priority. That''s when the day truly soured. Aurum warned the pickup site was compromised¡ªapproach stealthily. She wasn''t a ninja, had no training, but done her best to sensibly avoid cameras. Kept a low profile. Met a scruffy guy with a large backpack in an apartment block. Left via jumping between building fire escapes. All for nothing. Five minutes later a car jumped the curb. Aiming straight for her. Three gangers piled out weapons in hand. They hadn''t expected her response. She¡¯d moved as soon as the car had cleared the curb¡ªdodging, drawing, firing before the sedan had fully stopped. Her SIG''s rounds punched through metal and engine block finding flesh. One tried to hide behind the car door firing back. Amateur. Car doors weren''t cover. Hollywood lied. Her bullets shredded through. Tearing into him as if the barrier were paper. She''d emptied the full clip¡ªfifteen rounds of calculated chaos. Two of them had bounties. Decent payouts. The third didn''t. She''d waited ten minutes for the cops. Spent forty more explaining. Worried they''d question the contents of her delivery bag. Or how her bullets pierced steel and engines. They hadn''t. Maybe this detective was here to change that. Grounding herself from her musings about her awful day, she noticed Anderton scanning her apartment. His gaze lingered on her makeshift barricade carefully laid out in assembly order. The room was sparse but now had touches of personal flair¡ªthe pull-up bar. Neatly arranged gun cleaning kit for the range. Her gaming headset lay on the bed. The subtle scent of vanilla and strawberries hung in the air. Better than gunpowder. She closed the door with a thought. "So what''s this about Detective?" She noted his slow movements again. "Those fourteen bodies from the other night," he began. "I''m here to verify your claims. It''s outside your usual claim profile and the system flagged it for a follow-up." At least she''d ditched the mask before reaching home. She contemplated her response. Ceri flashed in her mind¡ªher effortless charm. Lucy admired that in people. Ceri. Aurum. Lioncourt. All different styles of charm that she recognised. But that wasn''t her. She was blunt. Direct. Social cues just eluded her. Her childhood was spent failing to grasp the basics that others seemed to grip immediately. Feeling socially inadequate had become normal. Even expected somewhat on meeting new people. "Stepping up my game," she said finally. "Saving for a new apartment. Started with two, then fourteen, now another three today." She met his gaze steadily. "Need a few more if I want a nice place." She tried to channel a bit of Lioncourt''s nonchalance. "Got some new enhancements recently. They''ve been helpful." She wondered what slick line Lioncourt would drop in French right now. She could mimic his detachment. But not his finesse. "Of course!" Anderton replied, a bit too brightly. "The city and the department appreciate your efforts." He paused. "May I see the weapon you used for the fourteen claims?" Slowly she drew her old nine-millimeter from her leg holster. Holding it out for inspection but keeping a firm grip. "You have two guns," he noted, stating the obvious. His tone overly cheerful. He seemed to register the fluidity of her movements. "Smart. I see¡ªa standard 9mm." He nodded awkwardly. "Well, everything appears to be in order." He backed toward the door. "Thank you for your time. Sorry to have bothered you." He said more, but Lucy zoned out trying to read his reactions and attitude. Was this a set-up? A game? She was confused. It shouldn¡¯t be this easy. There¡¯s absolutely no way a police detective would breezily accept over fourteen kills like this. Especially with such a cursory inspection of her weapon and such a thread-bare explanation. She¡¯d prepared a full story. Recited it. Practiced. Explanations of why there were different calibre bullets in each bounty target. An hour had been spent with an AI chatbot that thought it was helping with a film script. Crafting and constructing layers of lies to tell. He left his card. Uttered, politely, more of the city¡¯s thanks for her efforts. She watched him leave. The door clicking shut behind him. Had she missed something? Was this a trap? Was a police Special Weapons and Tactics team about to burst down her door? Then it hit her¡ªthe exaggerated movements. The overly polite demeanour. His reactions when she mentioned enhancements. He simply, what? Thought she was some kind of cold-blooded killer? He¡¯d thought her story had checked-out? Lucy didn''t know whether to laugh or cry. That could just be a perception. She couldn¡¯t fully process the encounter or understand it. It seemed truly surreal. Like a bad vid comedy¡¯s joke that she couldn¡¯t follow. Maybe Aurum was worth getting an opinion from. She sank onto the edge of her bed. The day''s events crashing over her. After a moment she began to slowly unlace her boots. Each motion practised and deliberate. Finding some mental order in the routine to settle herself. She needed another shower. Maybe this time she''d get to finish it. * She''d bought a dress. Lucy wasn''t one to fuss over clothes. But tonight was different. She refused to show up at one of downtown''s premier clubs in slacks and a t-shirt. Labels annoyed her¡ªpeople loved putting others in boxes. Her gay tag had altered too many relationships. She just wanted to be Lucy. Practical to a fault she''d just never seen the point in dressing up without reason. But picking a dress and doing makeup weren''t her strengths. Thankfully Downtown 2083 had options. The Transit gig''s payout helped too. Thrifty by nature she allowed herself this splurge¡ªa little black dress. Nice heels. An hour with someone who knew the importance of de-fuzzing and proper makeup techniques. She''d even taken an Exec taxi. The driver opening the door for her. A luxury ride to the corporate heart of the city. Where policing mattered. Security cameras watched every corner. Response times were swift. Neon lights reflected off melting snow. She walked to the entrance. For once in her life stepping into the VIP lane. Her name was on the list just as Lioncourt had promised. Third floor, booths two and three. Two booths¡ªit must''ve cost a fortune. Inside the club pulsed with a steady hum. The sway of dancing bodies greeted her. Not a silent nightclub¡ªthose always felt eerie. Instead a sensible background beat allowed for conversation without overpowering the senses. Four DJs occupied booths around the bustling dance floor. Each syncing different rhythms to coloured lights. Dancers tuned in via neural links. Their movements casting hues that merged and shifted. Blue dominated now but soon another colour would take over. Lucy found the patterns fascinating. But she was always on time. Ascending to the third floor she spotted Lioncourt''s party. He was deep in conversation with a pretty young woman. Upon seeing Lucy he immediately ended his chat much to the woman''s clear annoyance. "Leth," he exclaimed his accent thick. "Mon amie gracieuse ma belle surprise!" Lucy raised an eyebrow. He''d never seen her face and, as yet, hadn''t heard her speak. He was guessing. She scanned the group¡ªabout twelve people laughing and drinking. One figure stood apart leaning over the railing eyes fixed on the dancers below. ¡°How could I refuse when Aurum has already warned me off?¡± She dared. ¡°Apparently I¡¯m a present for someone else.¡± Lioncourt feigned injury at her scepticism. "Oh you wound me! Is it so hard to believe I wish to bring joie et compagnie to those around me?" He laced his words with charm and French flourishes. He laughed leading her to the booth. "Everyone this is Leth." He didn''t bother with introductions for the others. She saw them for what they were¡ªhangers-on. If he didn''t name them, they weren''t important to him. He''s lonely, she thought. He poured her a glass from a chilled bottle. The bubbles gave it away¡ªFrench champagne naturally. She noted the four bottles spread across the tables of the private booths. Now she understood why he would casually eliminate seventeen people on an evening walk out. Money flowed through Lioncourt like water. Perhaps his claims of altruism masked his own indulgences. She took a sip. Lioncourt wasted no time wrapping her in eloquent phrases. His charm in full effect. But she noticed he was steering her toward the woman by the railing. He''s smart. But not as subtle as he thinks. "Leth, allow me to introduce Siege Perilous," he said, pronouncing ¡®Siege¡¯ with a French lilt. Sedge? Syezh? Lucy decided not to ask. The AI chatbot has already been useful in tracking down what the weird name referred to anyway. The woman turned. Short¡ªbarely five feet. Late twenties at most. Dressed in rock-chic attire with straight black hair that seemed out of place here, yet perfectly suited to her. Her eyes flicked to Lioncourt. "What are you up to - old man?" she asked, though she nodded politely to Lucy. Lioncourt clutched his chest theatrically. "Old man? You wound me again! If you''ll excuse me, Je dois m''occuper de mon c?ur bris¨¦." He slipped away, tossing in a few French curse words for effect. Left alone. Lucy glanced at Peril. "He lacks subtlety doesn''t he?" Peril thought for a moment. Words catching. "Sorry about... that. He keeps trying to set me up on blind dates. Thinks I need company." She stumbled slightly, then sighed. "I''m not great with filters." She looked at Lucy, eyes sincere. "Though he''s never picked someone so... hot before." Lucy felt a rare warmth. "Thanks." Peril seemed to relax a bit. They stood side by side watching the crowd below. "Why do you call him old man?" Lucy asked. Peril smiled slyly. "Why not? The old pervert''s pushing sixty-five." Lucy looked over at Lioncourt effortlessly charming another woman. He didn''t look a day over thirty-five. Catching her expression, Peril chuckled. "Pulled his military jacket. Active since the late ''30s. Did a thirty-year stint¡ªmostly redacted spec ops." Peril suddenly burst into laughter. A genuine uncontrolled joy. "You two have that in common," she managed between giggles. Lucy was puzzled. But found herself smiling. "I''m not military. You must have me confused." Peril composed herself still grinning. "Well you are now." "I don''t follow." Peril''s gaze softened. "How''d your chat with the cop go this afternoon?" Lucy''s heart skipped. The implications were staggering. Peril knew about the detective''s visit? Possibly knew where she lived? Peril noticed her tension. "Did I overstep? I''m sorry. Lioncourt asked me to make sure you didn''t get in trouble for... well his fault. So I... helped." Keeping her voice steady Lucy pressed on. "Lioncourt asked you? But how did he know where I live?" Peril waved a hand dismissively. "Tracking you through the police database was easy." Lucy sipped her champagne to mask her shock. Peril had breached the supposedly super-secure bounty hunter database with ease. She understated her abilities to an alarming degree. "What did you do?" Lucy asked calmly. Peril hesitated. Eyes dropping. "I didn''t alter anything major. Just made the last five years of your file appear as redacted military service. It''s a visual glitch¡ªnothing actually changed. But anyone looking probably thinks you were military spec ops or in a corpo black unit, or something." Understanding washed over Lucy. The detective''s cautious demeanour made sense now. He¡¯d seen her as an ex-military operative. A trained killer. Peril looked close to tears. "Are you mad? I didn''t mean any harm." Lucy felt a surge of empathy. Peril was brilliant. But vulnerable. Wearing her emotions openly. "It''s okay," Lucy assured her gently. "You helped me out. Thank you." Peril''s face brightened. She gazed down at the dancers. "I like dancing. Do you dance?" The conversation had flipped completely, Lucy smiled softly at the twist. "I haven''t in years. But I''d love to." She owed Peril that much. Peril''s eyes lit up. "Really?" "Really." Peril reached out her hand. Hovering uncertainly before lightly touching Lucy''s arm. "Come on then." They made their way to the dance floor. The crowd parted subtly as they stepped into the pulsating lights. Peril moved with an unrestrained joy. Her awkwardness melting away. Lucy found herself matching Peril''s rhythm. Her own movements were fluid and precise¡ªthe enhancements lending her an effortless grace. The music thrummed through her. For once, she let go. Peril laughed. A sound that cut through the noise - pure and unguarded. "You''re good at this," she said, spinning close. They danced song after song. The world narrowing to just the two of them amidst the swirling colours. Hours passed. They alternated through various DJ¡¯s together. Some brought them close, some had them rocking out. Their dancing grew nearer. They touched. Hands on shoulders. Hips. Hands clasped. After what seemed like many hours, they retreated to a quieter corner. Peril''s cheeks were flushed. Her eyes shining and intensely locked on Lucy. "Thank you," she said softly. "I don''t... get to do this often." "Neither do I." Peril fiddled nervously with a silver pendant around her neck. "People usually don''t... stick around once they get to know me." "Why''s that?" Honesty seemed like the best approach here to Lucy. She shrugged. "I''m... different. Don''t fit in well." Lucy met her gaze. "Different isn''t bad." Peril had drawn close now. They were talking mere inches apart. Peril¡¯s breath on her cheek as she talked. Peril smiled tentatively. "You''re not like most people." Her arms where now around Lucy¡¯s waist and lower back as she gently swayed to the music. "Neither are you," Lucy swayed with Peril, hooking her arms around her. They grew closer. A comfortable silence settled between them. The club''s energy pulsed, but they were in their own bubble. Lioncourt smoothly walked up, a playful smirk on his face. "Ah Mesdemoiselles, enjoying yourselves?" Peril rolled her eyes affectionately. "Go away old man." She didn¡¯t let go. Nor seem embarrassed. He chuckled. "Je voulais juste prendre de tes nouvelles.¡± He glanced at Lucy. "I trust you''re finding the evening agreeable?" She gave a small nod. "More than." Damn him, just go. Go away. Charming gentlemen don¡¯t interrupt women who were just about to kiss. He bowed slightly and retreated. "Excellent. I''ll leave you to it." The bastard seemed genuinely delighted, Lucy thought. Dirty old pervert ¨C maybe Peril was right. As he walked away, Peril leaned in conspiratorially and whispered in Lucy¡¯s ear. "He means well. In his own meddling way." Her breath felt warm. "I can see that." Peril took a deep breath. She was uncertain for a moment. As if picking words very carefully from a script. Then she just decided to come out with it. "Would you like to... maybe come back to my place for a coffee?¡± Lucy suddenly knew why Aurum was so fatherly and protective. Peril¡¯s heart-on-her-sleeve approach probably had led her into a number of bad choices and decisions with people who had abused that trust over the years. Despite that warning prang, Lucy felt a genuine smile spread across her face. "I''d like that." "Great." Peril looked relieved, and excited. Then she blurted out, ¡°Though I really don¡¯t want coffee.¡± She planted a hot kiss on Lucy¡¯s lips, arms wrapping around her. Chapter 8 Lucy watched the sunrise from the corner loft''s floor-to-ceiling windows. Downtown stretched before her bathed in gold. The city looked different from up here¡ªfull of promise. She stood naked sipping coffee. Leaning against the large realwood kitchen counter. The espresso machine had had helpful bright yellow notes stuck to it with detailed instructions. Notes were everywhere. One on the table explained how to turn on the huge vid screen. At first she''d thought the apartment was a rental; messages left for guests. But then she read a few more. By the door: Remember to say thank you to Leonard the doorman. By the window: Remember the glass is one-way¡ªthey can''t see you. Personal reminders. At least making coffee had been easier. Peril was upstairs on the open loft''s second-floor bed. Unabashedly sprawled on top of the sheets. The woman was dangerously thin, Lucy noted. Last night''s rock-chick attire had hidden just how slight she was¡ªskin pale like alabaster. Yet the fridge was well-stocked. Either she didn''t eat, and the food went to waste or others cooked for her and ate with her. A schedule was pinned to the fridge listing names and days detailing who would be cooking over the next week. Lioncourt was down for Christmas Day¡ªTurkey. Lucy had giggled at that. Aurum was on the list too in bright marker pen. When to eat breakfast was marked. Snack time. Dinner. With exact timings. Impressive. Peril despite her challenges had built her own support system. Guardrails to navigate the world. She probably owned this place outright. The sun climbed slightly higher casting warm light across polished floors. The city didn''t look harsh from here. It looked inviting. Her calm sleep in Peril¡¯s arms had been interrupted by a ping at 6am ¡ªAurum. A Clean job across town. Something was about to go down; they might need her. She was willing. But this time she set conditions. Six bodies maximum. No mixing bounties with non-paying targets. The client would handle any mixing complications. Lioncourt had been an education. Ten minutes later Aurum responded. He was impressed. The client had tried to argue that mixing was the Clean''s issue, but her ability to take six had sealed the deal. Most Cleans would have taken three or four. She winced at the detached terminology. Targets. Claims. Bounties. The dehumanizing veneer of the job. She ascended the stairs in fluid movements. Peril was still asleep. Her breathing steady. Her petite frame had been surprisingly energetic. Hot dates were uncharted territory for Lucy. She wasn''t indifferent to desire. But she''d never leapt like this before. She scribbled a note. Keeping it simple. Genuine. Like Peril: Work called. Had a great night. Thanks for the coffee¡ªbest I''ve had. Would like to meet again. That would suffice. No need to leave contact info; Peril likely had all that already. She dressed quietly, pulling on her clothes. Her movements were precise and almost unconsciously graceful. Back in the kitchen she glanced around once more. The apartment was a picture of order for a person of unfiltered chaos and impulse¡ªmeticulous notes. Schedules. Reminders to eat. Her gaze landed on a sketch pinned to a corkboard¡ªabstract lines forming intricate patterns. Codes maybe. Or just art. She smiled softly. There was more to Peril than met the eye. Time to go. She slipped out. Closing the door gently behind her. In the hallway she nodded to the doorman on her way out. "Morning Miss," he said warmly. "Morning, and thank you Leonard," she replied, offering a small smile. * Her apartment door hung ajar¡ªa gang symbol scrawled over it in jagged lines. Local punks. Probably from three blocks over. Lucy''s day had been going so well. She''d suited up for the job at her apartment barely two hours ago¡ªgear all in place. Aurum had called; she''d crossed town in a cab. The clients¡ªa trio from the Seventh Street Samurai¡ªwere satisfied. Gang or Yakuza offshoot? Hard to tell. Tattoos screamed gang. They''d been polite¡ªeven handed her business cards. Asked for hers. Deadly thugs with manners and katanas. Go figure. Six bodies. No civilians. Clean job. Funds funnelled through Aurum''s digital laundromat¡ªprobably Peril''s handiwork. Smooth. Now this. She noted the splintered door composite where they''d used a crowbar. Probably a few of them working on it since she''d left two hours ago. She drew her SIG¡ªmuscles fluid¡ªhoping one was still inside. ¡®Stand-your-ground¡¯ laws could be useful. The place was a wreck. They hadn''t found much worth taking so they''d trashed it for fun. Datapads smashed against the wall¡ªuseless to them without her neural encryption. VR gear gone. Good luck cracking that. Clothes strewn everywhere¡ªdrawers gutted. They''d grabbed her gun cleaning kit and range bag¡ªextra mags included. She winced at that. Replaceable. At least her weapons were with her. The stench hit her. Urine. They''d marked their territory¡ªspraying gang colours over her walls. Found her vibrator in the nightstand¡ªa hefty model she''d admit¡ªand jammed it into the toilet. Blocking it up. Classy. Her eyes swept the room¡ªmovements controlled. Anger simmered beneath the surface. But she wasn''t unravelling. They might''ve snagged the small roll of cash she kept for tips; but her accounts were secure. She took a deep breath. In the grand scheme. It hurt. But still not the worst thing about today. She¡¯d double-tapped six bodies an hour ago for three amiable yet completely ruthless men making enough money to recoup all of what had been lost and more. Compromised principles? Maybe. Definitely. Aurum¡¯s jobs were leading her down a dark pathway. This? Was this karma? Divine retribution? Doubtful. She wasn¡¯t one for spiritual reckonings. Bad things happened. Simple as that. No, this wasn¡¯t fate. Just the reality of living in a lousy neighbourhood. Wrong place¡ªwrong time. She was too thrifty. Should have moved on from this place to somewhere more secure weeks ago. She composed a message via neural link to the landlord: ¡°Apartment breached. Security inadequate. Terminating lease effective immediately.¡± They¡¯d be more, she knew. They¡¯d always come for more. No matter. She was ghosting. She¡¯d never see her deposit again. An actual smile at that thought. No way she was cleaning this mess. Lucy gathered a few unbroken essentials and a couple of personal items that had survived the gangers trashing. There wasn¡¯t that much. Some clothes from the floor¡ªurine-soaked but salvageable¡ªshe stuffed them into a black plastic bin liner. The rest could stay. Someone else could deal with the blocked toilet. She¡¯d get a new vibrator. Angry? Absolutely. But she wasn¡¯t broken. No tears. Time to move on. She stepped out¡ª almost tried locking the ruined door out of habit. The hallway was silent. Her footsteps were measured¡ªprecise¡ªas she made her way down the stairs. * She needed a drink. She¡¯d found herself again at the old diner she went to after the range. She messaged her friends first. Told them she wouldn''t be online today. Apologized for missing the progression dungeon they¡¯d had lined up. She thought about unloading her troubles. Decided against it. Keep it vague. Moving house¡ªthat was true enough. Ceri had quickly moved to private direct messages. Ceri: You okay? ? No. No I¡¯m not. I want your advice Ceri. I want Delsadar to comfort me. I¡¯d even take Piopei¡¯s straightforwardness or Arcanis¡¯s na?ve questions right now. Lethanda: Yes. Just some IRL things. Got a handle on it. Moving''s a chore. Can¡¯t wait to see you too. ? Lucy wanted to hold Ceri¡¯s hand. Be Lethanda on a mountaintop again, just the cool breeze and her small hot hand in hers. Lethanda didn¡¯t have to worry about where to sleep tonight. She was always awake. Always active. Ceri: Hope the move goes smoothly. The cheap coffee was worlds away from the exquisite roast she''d started the day with. The waitress kept pouring. She considered food but nothing on the menu seemed remotely healthy. She cursed under her breath. The reality of being robbed was creeping up on her. The hard facade she''d maintained at the apartment was cracking. She didn''t want to break down. Not here. Not yet. Stay frosty. She''d thought about holing up in a hotel. Sorting things out over the next few days. Sensible maybe. But she needed somewhere stable immediately. A hotel just sounded like extending the pain. She''d gone to the range. Left Boris with her black bin bag¡ªall her worldly possessions. Ordered a replacement gun cleaning kit. New clips. A travel bag. "Everything will be safe here," Boris had assured her. She knew. It gave her a day to apartment hunt. She considered calling Aurum. Getting his advice. But Aurum was the guy you called when you wanted a place off-the-books. She needed to stay legit to keep working as a bounty hunter and Clean. Needed a proper apartment. Somewhere the police could find her and check on her. It was part of being a bounty hunter.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. So she sat in the diner. Nursing bad coffee. Weighing options. She scrolled through realtors. Checked crime stats. Finally pulled up an AI chatbot. Started interacting. Looking for a safer yet affordable area. Avoided the megablocks¡ªthe massive hives crammed with many thousands. Settled on a few neighbourhoods that fit her budget. Rent was triple what she''d been paying. Edges of corporate zones rather than within them. But they had doormen. Guards. Better security. She clicked through listings. One with a steel-reinforced door caught her eye. Lucy drained her cup and summoned an auto-taxi via neural link. * She stared at the gangers who¡¯d destroyed her tiny apartment through her goggles. Rain sliding off her coat. The telescopic lens brought them into sharp focus from 150 feet away¡ªdetails she''d miss unaided. She hadn''t chosen the apartment with the steel door after all. Too big, too impersonal. The view was terrible. Now instead she had a window stretching the length of her place. Offering the city in the morning light. Before Lethanda she''d never appreciated a view. A tiny window had sufficed. The rain hammered down a relentless cascade. She let her anger build again. It had shattered earlier. The moment she''d closed the door to her new apartment clutching the bin bag containing everything she owned. She''d sobbed. Felt violated. The hardened shell she''d worn crumbled. She wanted to disappear. For hours she sat. Rocking. The weight of it all pressing down. Tears mixing with the silence. Then she''d gotten up. Emotionally exhausted somewhat. But she¡¯s passed through it. She¡¯d stood. Looked out at the view of the city through the long window, and started to tackle life''s necessities. The list was endless. Notified the cops of her new address. Told Aurum she was back to work¡ªhe''d teased her for not mentioning she''d been away. Ordered deliveries: food. New weights. A high-end VR headset rushed within the hour by special delivery. She''d be online again soon. New clothes¡ªsimple enough. Black slacks and tees were plentiful. But she¡¯d expanded her wardrobe a bit. Some better underwear, just in case things with Peril developed more. Yes. She¡¯d ordered a new vibrator too. This time in changeable rainbow colours. Everything she''d lost was replaceable. In many cases she¡¯d upgraded. And now here she was. Hours later. Standing in the rain. Watching the gangers who''d trashed her life. Twenty-four hours since she''d been at EchoChamber''s entrance. Twelve since she''d found her apartment destroyed. Eventful day. She felt the anger rising as she observed them. Wrath building. She imagined Lethanda unleashing her full might. Obliterating them. Like smashing a instant respawn point over and over. An endless stream of arrows smashing into endless targets. They''d taken over a boarded-up coffee shop on a corner. Smashed the windows. Torn down the boards. Nesting there¡ªtwelve of them laughing. Waiting out the rain. Cockroaches in concrete of the city. Her hydrophobic armoured coat proved its worth once again. Rain sliding off effortlessly. Sheets of water blurred the city''s neon glow. Two days until Christmas and the snow couldn''t hold. Nature''s tease¡ªpromising a white Christmas and delivering another downpour instead. She could storm in now. SIG blazing. Take down three maybe four. But she wasn''t military. Didn''t understand tactics. Wasn''t a soldier. At best she was a lucky amateur. After that, they''d return fire with their nines. She''d be dead before she hit the ground. She''d scanned their faces. Not all had bounties. Two did; the rest were beneath the city''s radar. No murder charges yet. It was only a matter of time but still. Killing them would be murder. She had the Seventh Street Samurai''s card in her pocket. She could call them. Pricey but affordable. They''d slice through these punks¡¯. Katanas flashing. Caught by surprise. The gangers probably wouldn''t stand a chance. She looked again through the lens. They were young¡ªlate teens. Early twenties. Lives ahead of them. Her hardened persona wavered. She tried to reinforce it with more fantasies of vengeance. She dismissed the idea of calling the Samurai. Bullets would fly. Innocents might get hurt. No. Maybe Lioncourt then. Cost a fortune but she could swing it. He''d eliminate them swiftly. They wouldn''t know what hit them. Lioncourt would probably kill most before they drew a weapon. She stood in the downpour imagining them laughing as they violated her space. Shoving her vibrator into the toilet giggling. Pissing on her clothes. She let the wrath wash over her. Imagined Lethanda''s Dark Arrow ability demolishing the building. She wanted to kill them all. But the persona cracked. She couldn''t hold it. Lucy surfaced. Why? What would it achieve? Would it make her feel better? Undo what they''d done? She felt lost. She didn''t have the skills to take them all out. They should be grateful for that. And morally¡ªcould she kill them? If they''d all been bounties maybe. But they weren''t. Society hadn''t marked them for execution. It would be murder. And despite everything she''d done for Aurum - she hadn''t crossed that line. Sanctioned kills were one thing. Straight-up killing. Because they''d stolen from her? Trashed her place? That was different. Lioncourt wouldn''t hesitate. He''d do it for sport. Claim it was to better the city - in that infuriating accent of his. She couldn''t hide behind such justifications. She couldn''t do this. The rain poured. Cold and relentless. Her tears mingled with it. They''d get away with it. She could seek revenge, but it would be hollow. They probably didn''t even know who she was. It wasn''t personal to them. They''d had their fun. She couldn''t hold onto the wrath. Couldn''t outsource it to killers for hire. No. She wouldn''t take revenge. Lucy held out her hand. Ground herself in the sensations of raindrops hitting the palm. She stood a moment longer letting the rain continue around her. Listening to the noise of it. Then she turned her back. * The cold embrace of the Escar Tundras wrapped around Lethanda like a silken shroud. Snowflakes danced on the wind. Each one a delicate whisper against her skin. The mouth of the cave offered a fleeting shelter a haven where the world narrowed to the crackling warmth of the campfire and the soft murmurs of her companions. She breathed in the crisp air the scent of pine and frost mingling on her tongue. The distant howl of the wind was a melancholic song a reminder of the wild expanse that lay beyond. Some adventurers found these frozen plains arduous. Their steps heavy without a ranger, druid or shaman to guide them. But for their band the tundra was a canvas, each stride a brushstroke in the tapestry of their journey. Lethanda had invested heavily in all the ranger outdoor skills and traits, and had applied them ruthlessly to accelerate their questing progress. Behind her Arcanis coaxed flames from kindling his hands steady as he nurtured the fire to life. The glow painted his face in hues of amber and gold. He''d grown as a storyteller, Lethanda decided, weaving tales that bound them closer. Ceri was right, they should celebrate when leaps of faith paid off; Arcanis growing into being a good roleplayer was worth a smile. Suggesting they ¡®camp¡¯ here for the night had been his idea¡ªa chance to rest before the trials of Kelsada Falls. For Arcanis to go from his stumbling beginnings at ¡®campfire¡¯ RP to suggesting they initiate it showed great progress. Or maybe he just needed a biobreak before the ninety-minute onslaught ahead, Lethanda thought less charitably. The dungeon waited just minutes away¡ªa labyrinth of ice and shadow where dragons ruled and the very air shimmered with arcane energy. Most players agreed that it was the Dev¡¯s masterpiece dungeon so far. Arcanis settled by the fire his voice rich and resonant. "We''ve come far friends. Standing on the cusp of mysteries untold. The path ahead may change us but it''s a journey we take together." Kurgrim Bloodaxe adjusted his gleaming armour the metal catching the firelight. "Aye" he rumbled his accent a rough mimicry of the highland clans. "Choices lie before us. Paths that could lead us to conquer the ancient Gates of Baraadon¡ªor see us fall short." Lethanda felt the weight of his words. They were right. Both of them. Soon Ceri and Piopei would reach the pivotal level forty - mid-point in the levelling grind to hit max - time for further specialisation choices. Major new gameplay mechanics opened-up. All kinds of new enchantments, glyphs, sigil levelling and more. She turned to her companions the warmth of the fire caressing her face. "I''ve heard whispers," she began her voice barely above a murmur. "Rangers of great renown have sought me out each offering a different way forward. Their teachings promise power but demand commitment. I worry¡ªwhat if our choices pull us apart? What if the paths we take alter the balance we''ve found?" She¡¯d hit forty a few days ago herself. She was putting off exploring the new content until Ceri joined her though. Ceri and Piopei not having hit Forty before her though was only a testament to the number of hours they¡¯d poured into helping Delsadar power-level Kurgrim Bloodaxe. That Kurgrim was only a few levels behind Lethanda at this point was pretty amazing to her. Silence settled as she mused. Broken only by the soft crackle of burning logs. Ceri''s eyes sparkled with unwavering optimism. "Change isn''t something to fear" she said, her smile a balm against uncertainty. "New skills. New paths¡ªthey''re steps toward becoming the heroes we''re meant to be. Together we''ll adapt." Piopei nodded thoughtfully. "I''ve been thinking of studying with an old alchemist," he shared. "Learning to brew potions and elixirs could bolster our strength. Imagine facing the Gates with that kind of support." Lethanda considered his words the possibilities unfolding like petals. "Perhaps you''re right. Growth is the essence of our journey. Embracing these new powers might be exactly what we need." The Gates of Baraadon loomed in their collective imagination¡ªmonolithic structures whispered about in legends. Remnants of ancient civilizations. No one had reached them yet, but theories abounded. Portals to uncharted realms? Gateways inviting formidable foes? The unknown beckoned. The leading edge of players was only now reaching those end-zones. New vids of discoveries popped up on her recommendation to watch lists. But Lethanda wasn¡¯t a fan of spoilers. Arcanis gazed into the fire. "After Kelsada Falls some of us might venture to the Sky-City of Jeluna. If the winds favour us we''ll return with knowledge to guide the rest." The next major quest hub beckoned, Lethanda knew. On hitting forty she¡¯s automatically received some ¡®breakcrumbs¡¯ quests to go to the Sky-City. Ceri clapped her hands softly. "That''s a wonderful idea! I''ve been thinking¡ªwe should designate roles within the guild. Seekers of wisdom who can lead others down these new paths." Lethanda felt a subtle warmth bloom in her chest. Ceri had asked her to be the ranger class leader¡ªa mentor to those who shared her path. The guild was small but growing. She''d met the two other rangers over tankards of spiced mead. Their laughter at shared experiences with their class mingling with the tavern''s lively hum. Lethanda not finding her crucial-for-soloing snare-shot ability until very late in the Spine Mountains was apparently quite normal. Though, of course, the newer rangers had benefited from being able to read guides with all the errors of earlier players pointed out. As the fire settled into glowing embers their conversation wound down. One by one they feigned yawns and stretched lazily the universal sign of players needing a brief respite. "I''ll keep watch," Lethanda offered her gaze drifting back to the swirling snow beyond the cave''s entrance. "Don''t stay up too late," Arcanis teased, winking. "We need you sharp for those dragons." She smirked. "Wouldn''t dream of letting you face them without me." Their avatars settled into resting poses. The game mechanics providing a semblance of sleep. Lethanda activated her Ranger''s Sanctuary a protective aura that would shield them for a time¡ªeven if they logged off. The stillness enveloped her. Yet beneath the layers of character and game thoughts of Lucy surfaced unbidden. Real-life intruding like a cold draft. She needed to improve. To adapt. The recent events had highlighted gaps¡ªnot just in skills but in readiness. Perhaps discussing it with Aurum on Christmas Day would help. Peril had extended the invitation with her characteristic straightforwardness. The thought of spending time with them brought a hint of solace. Christmas Day itself was usually a very lonely time for her. Last year she¡¯d spent most of it online. Trying not to think about returning to her empty tiny box apartment. But this wasn''t the moment for such reflections. She shook her head. Dispelling the lingering thoughts. The tundra awaited. Soon she''d be loosing arrows into the hearts of dragons. The allure of the Shadow Ranger path called to her¡ªa journey of agility and lethal precision mixed with dark sorcery. Rising smoothly, Lethanda stepped outside the cave. The bite of the wind a welcome sensation. The snowflakes kissed her cheeks melting like fleeting worries. "Time to focus" she whispered to herself. Those dragons wouldn''t slay themselves. Chapter 9 She lay face down on Terrance''s operating table biting on a rubber guard to protect her teeth. The cold surface pressed against her cheek. The smell of antiseptic filling the air. "Six hours. Give or take," Terrance said, his voice muffled by a surgical mask. "Gotta keep you awake though. Systems tests at every stage. Complicated stuff. The automated memory encoding & retrieval, and the subconscious processing core elements of the system. They all need a bit of finesse. But hey! At least I''m getting paid well right?" He chuckled, pleased with himself. Not the usual outcome of a Christmas Day chat, Lucy thought. Christmas had been unexpected. Lioncourt had opened the door wearing a garish holiday sweater. Snowflakes and reindeer clashing with his refined demeanour. "Joyeux No?l," he¡¯d exclaimed, enveloping her in a warm embrace. She''d donned a sweater too. One Peril had insisted she wear. Tradition apparently. Peril had gotten a bit too enthusiastic helping her into it. Hands had lingered a moment longer than necessary. Lioncourt tactfully excused himself to check on the turkey leaving them to settle on the sofa. Cuddling came naturally. Her gifts were a hit. Lioncourt''s eyes widened at the cravat¡ª blue, white and red stripes. "Mon dieu, you shouldn''t have," he said, a rare genuine awkwardness creeping into his usual charm. "And I, unprepared, have nothing for you. Quelle situation embarrassante.¡± For Peril she''d bought a paper sketchpad and real pencils. Peril''s face lit up like a child''s. "These are perfect," she whispered. A dull ache pulled her back to the present. The whirring of a tiny bonesaw echoed in her ears. So this is what having your skull opened feels like. Not sharp pain but a deep unsettling pressure. "You''re doing great," Terrance assured, fiddling with instruments. "This tech is top-notch. Better than anything I could''ve sourced myself. Reconditioned sure, but solid. You''re brave. Diving in with second-hand gear like this. But whoever refurbished this for you did a great job." He rambled on. "Adaptive Learning Algorithmic Modules are the future, you combine those elements with the MnemoForge and CortexStream tech built-in to this bad boy - and damn! You¡¯ll be sitting drinking a coffee reading the paper - while in the background - learning to play the piano. The NeuroSync AI in there is last year''s model. But it¡¯s fully patched. Much better now. Last-gen working is better than cutting-edge with glitches, am I right?" She tuned him out. He seemed content to carry both sides of the technobabble conversation he had going on. She knew what it would deliver. Skills. Skills she lacked and needed. Skills without the need for conscious effort or study. Imprinting themselves automatically on her while she slept, walked around and worked. She''d made the decision after that sumptuous turkey dinner. Lioncourt could cook; she''d give him that. Aurum had swung by to see Peril and drop off some presents. He seemed like a different man with her. More carefree. More open. Less suit. Soon the conversation drifted to cyberware upgrades as Lucy mentioned she was considering skill enhancements. Suddenly they were knee-deep in specs and opinions. All three knew their stuff. It reminded Lucy of her conversations recently with her fellow rangers as class leader. Pouring over guides and ¡°best DPS¡± spec vids. Ensuring every skill point and talent point was distributed to maximise their role effectiveness. Yes, it was an RP server, but they weren¡¯t slackers. She¡¯d been torn between skillsofts and adaptive learning automated AI systems using learnsofts. Lioncourt dismissed both with a wave. "He''s just old-fashioned," Peril teased. "Back in his day he had to learn everything the hard way." Aurum nodded thoughtfully. "Most operators don''t invest in themselves like this," he said. He seemed impressed at her commitment to self-improvement. Operator, she noted. Not worker. Not crew. "Skillsofts offer immediate boosts but lack depth. Muscle memory takes time and without it you''re a liability. Plus - repeated overwrites? Who knows what that does long-term." Lioncourt chimed in, his French lilt still expressing his disdain. "Between the two evils I''d choose automated AI learning accelerators," he conceded. "You won''t wake up saying ''I know kung fu'' like a pure skillsoft system,"¡ªHe looked around, disappointed no-one caught the reference¡ª"but you gain real skills over time. Proper retention. Genuine muscle memory. Subconsciously processing it all in the background." He recounted the first Taiwanese rush-job of the tech back in the ''65 Border War. Civilians crammed with basic military training in a single week. "Effective. Sure," he¡¯d said. "But the mind can only handle so much. Cognitive downtime wasn''t a concept then." He left out the grim details but she''d looked them up later. The horrors were real. But the tech had also improved massively since those first initial models. Those failures, and more since, had let the engineers see where the breakdowns occurred. "First set of tests coming up," Terrance announced, pulling her back. "Look Up. Up. Down. Down. Look left. Now right. Again left, now right. Close left eye. OK, close right eye. Good. Really good. Now blink." He tapped on a datapad, deeply amused with himself for some reason. "Everything''s syncing nicely. Background motor function and sensory processing AI cores spinning up. Good sync with the basal ganglia modulation module. Systems are green." Cost had been a concern. High-end tech was pricey. Aurum suggested reconditioned gear. She hesitated. "I don''t deal with cyberware harvesters," she said firmly. Images of the organ harvester warehouse etched on her mind. Aurum raised his hands defensively. "Nothing like that. Funeral homes often offload unclaimed tech. Families don''t always know Uncle Eddie was packing military-grade implants. It''s a grey area but cleaner than you think." Peril offered to vet any gear. "I''ll make sure it''s safe," she promised. A sharp twinge made her bite down. Then harder. A few muscle twitches rocked her body. The dental guard absorbed the pressure. Two weeks after Christmas, a package arrived: reconditioned cyberware in a sterile box. High-end corporate unit from GTK. Last year''s top-spec model. Not illegal. But usually requiring corporate clearance. Peril had even worked her magic - jailbreaking it. "Now you can upload from any brand of skill library - in multiple formats," she said, eyes gleaming. Hell, why not, Lucy had thought with a smile, it¡¯s not as if she was getting a GTK warranty with it. "Almost done here," Terrance said, starting to close her up. "No scars but the hair will take a couple weeks to grow back. Might want to be pulling that hood down more - or invest in a hat! This is a heavy piece of kit you know. Literally. About a full pound in additional weight in that skull now. That¡¯s massive extra continuous weight on your neck and shoulders. You¡¯re going to have to strengthen those.¡± Still face down staring at the worn floor, Lucy pondered her next move. What to upload first? She couldn¡¯t just start with ¡®advanced firearms training¡¯ - even if she¡¯d wanted to - you still needed the training AI learnsofts themselves. Those kinds of ones, if they even existed, were probably the domain of military specialists or corpo black ops teams. It sounded cool to download a ¡®super ninja killer¡¯ skillset and just automatically learn it over a few weeks without effort ¨C but someone had to write that first, create it. Availability and cost would determine her first few choices. She¡¯d start with simple, legally acquirable AI learnsofts. Her mind raced. She¡¯d some ideas, but needed to sit down with a tech chatbot and work through the options. Something simple to start with. Build her up. Not test the boundaries of this new automated learning system straight away ¨C start with something nice. Maybe something for dancing with Peril? "Hey, you still with me?" Terrance asked. "Yeah," she mumbled, through the guard. "Good. Because once this kicks-in - the sky''s the limit. That¡¯s a very serious upgrade in there. Legit sure, but top shelf corpo gear for Execs with all the extras. Even really obscure shit like a NeuroForge Synapse core and a peripheral nervous system feedback AI unit. Surprised to be honest. You¡¯re all; no, no, no Terrance - and then suddenly adding a full pound of chrome into your eight pound little skull.¡± She pushed herself up slowly, movements fluid despite hours of stillness. The room spun slightly before settling. He was right. Her head literally felt heavier on her shoulders. She would be doing those neck strengthening exercises he¡¯d mentioned. "Take it easy," Terrance cautioned. "Your system needs time to adjust. We just plugged a lot into every bit of your cerebellum, brain stem, upper spinal cord and more. Two days. The system is complex. Going so top-end with so many active subsystems also means it all needs time to fully sync. The AI¡¯s need time to start managing active and passive neural loads.¡± She nodded, more complete technobabble. If she¡¯d remembered any of it by the time she was home she might look some of it up. Reached for her jacket. The fabric felt different under her fingers¡ªtextures more defined. Not better. But like she was feeling it for the first time. Weird. He¡¯d mentioned sensory input ¡®somethings¡¯. Maybe that. "Remember. No heavy activity for 48 hours. Take it easy. Your brain is literally healing. No sims, no massive sensory input, no loud noises, no gaming. Hell. Don¡¯t even watch a vid that requires you to think," he added. "And seriously get a cap." No VR? Damn. But she gave a faint smile. "Thanks Terrance." ¡°What you gonna start with?¡± She shrugged and left. Stepping out into the neon-lit alley the city''s hum enveloped her. Every sound sharper every light more vivid. No. More weirdness. Not brighter, just¡­ Odd. She walked, each step measured. Stopped. Yes. Her head¡¯s weight felt strange. Off-balance. That¡¯d take time to adjust to. She continued walking. Her neural interface pinged¡ªa message from Peril. "How did it go?" "Smooth," she typed back. "Deciding what to load first." "Choose wisely," she replied. A winking emoji followed. * The sun breached the horizon casting a cascade of warm hues across the loft. From the bed on the second floor Lucy watched as the city stirred beneath the morning glow. The view was nothing short of spectacular. Peril was nestled against her back. Her presence both comforting and slightly mischievous. "I can''t believe how much you love watching the sunrise," Peril murmured, her breath soft against Lucy''s neck. "We''ve had like, two hours of sleep." Lucy smiled recalling Ceri''s teasing comments about her early mornings. "It''s beautiful," she said simply. "And better with company." Peril chuckled lightly. "You didn''t mind coming over again?" "Not at all." Lucy turned her head slightly, catching Peril''s amused gaze. Over the past four weeks since Christmas these visits had become more frequent. It started with a 3am call the day after Boxing Day: "I''m lonely. Come over." Soon the messages evolved into "I''m horny! ?? Come over."¡ªa blunt honesty that was quintessentially Peril. What began as sporadic late-night visits had quickly turned into a regular occurrence. Lucy had jokingly accused Peril of using her as a cuddle toy. Even gifting her a rainbow elephant teddy bear. But the calls kept coming. Lucy cherished them. Being wanted was a new sensation. Sleeping beside someone. Wrapped in warmth¡ªit was like a comfort she''d never known she needed. A word surfaced in her mind unbidden: limerence. The definition flowed automatically. A side effect of the relationships learnsoft she''d uploaded. An intense often obsessive infatuation marked by heightened emotional arousal and fixation on the beloved. Damn it. She half-regretted that particular download. But the concept resonated¡ªthe honeymoon phase where partners crave reciprocation experience. Lucy found herself locked briefly into a stream of flowing thoughts and definitions. Euphoria. Emotional highs. Idealisation. Deep emotional connection. Lucy shook her head to try and clear it all away. This unbidden stream-of-thought side-effect had happened a lot lately, but would settle down she knew. The knowledge was just so fresh in the mind after a recent upload. Peril''s fingers traced light patterns on her back. "I still can''t believe the first thing you did was a GED learnsoft," she whispered. "Most people in our world would have slotted something combat by now." Lucy had spent countless hours with an AI tech assistant mapping out her initial purchases and skill lines. It felt reminiscent of gaming - working with a talent calculator to plan which foundational skills would unlock more complex abilities later. "Not finishing high school left gaps," Lucy admitted. "The GED filled in the blanks. My system recommended a three-day cooldown after the initial week¡ªit was heftier than I expected." She¡¯d known it was working when at the range, in her normal metronome rhythm burning through clips, the geometry of her shots had sprung into her mind. Distance and angles all forming solvable trigonometry problems in her thoughts. Peril nodded thoughtfully. "I get that, but you could''ve picked anything. Why start there?" "Knowledge," Lucy said watching the colours slicing through the window. "A basic solid foundation." Peril smiled softly. "Makes sense. But still. You could have been doing Kung Fu,¡± She¡¯d looked up Lioncourt¡¯s off-hand reference and they¡¯d watched the ancient movie together one evening. The special effects had been awfully retro, but Lucy admitted it was a decent action flick. The romantic evening just cuddling under a blanket together watching a movie had been a complete contrast to her recent busy Cleaning days.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. Lioncourt had been dropping a lot of bodies recently, and he seemed to prefer Lucy as his favoured Clean. He was intent on some kind of post-Christmas personal reign of terror on the various gangs, criminals and mafioso of the city. Five gangers dropped one evening. A Yakuza hideout blazed through a few days later; six extra bodies. More. Even in a city with a regular nightly sweepstake on bounty claims. Lucy was getting a little concerned she had been claiming too many. Peril had joked she¡¯d be pushing into bounty hunter ¡®ace¡¯ territory soon. Over fifty kills claimed. There seemed little planned rhyme or reason to it. Completely random target selection it seemed. Lucy, even after all the insight training courses had been uploaded, was unable to see a pattern other than obvious target criminality and very decent bounties. Did he literally just drive through the city and throw himself into hyper-violent situations for fun? Lioncourt never gave anything away either. Always charming to a fault. But his intent was a complete enigma. "Coffee?" Lucy offered, breaking the comfortable introspection. Enough about Lioncourt¡¯s callous rampage through the underworld. She needed to take care of her lovers morning caffeine needs. "Absolutely." Unashamed of her nakedness, Lucy slipped out of bed and descended the metal stairs with the subtle grace granted by her implants. Despite their openness she hadn''t told Peril about the relationships learnsoft. Navigating relationships was uncharted territory for her. High school had been a minefield of rejection and isolation leaving her without the social skills others seemed to grasp naturally. More gaps she''d tried to fill. The learnsoft was another attempt to bridge the divide between knowledge and practical application. Wisdom versus intelligence stats in gaming terms. "Colombian or Ethiopian?" she mused aloud surveying the array of coffee choices. She''d never asked Peril about her wealth. Having four types of real coffee on hand spoke volumes. She recalled the debate with the AI assistant about wisdom versus intelligence. This learning cyber-enhancement wouldn''t boost her raw IQ in-of-itself, but, she¡¯d figured, perhaps it could improve her ability to gain better reasoning skills and insight. The AI had insisted that insight and reasoning could be developed through training. So she''d invested in learnsofts designed to cultivate it: accredited creative problem-solving programs. A lateral thinking course from some guy who talked about hats. Mindfulness-based cognitive training and more. A week spent uploading various learnsofts on developing insight and critical thinking approaches. Peril''s jailbreak of her neural interface had been a godsend. Granting her access to a vast library of resources. The physical therapist learnsoft had also proven valuable. Her neck and shoulders had been under strain. Terrance had been right to warn her. She''d purchased specialised equipment for her apartment. Daily exercises now targeted the deep muscles of her neck using resistance bands and weight-based head harnesses. Her neck wouldn''t become the tree trunk of an F1 driver anytime soon, but it was strengthening. She didn''t feel top-heavy or off-balance so much anymore. She was putting in the work. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee pulled her back to the present. She poured two cups and ascended the stairs gracefully. Each movement fluid. Peril sat cross-legged on the bed. Unabashed in her own nudity. Her pale skin seemed almost luminous in the morning light. Though Lucy couldn''t help but notice how thin she was. "You were lost in thought again," Peril observed as Lucy handed her a cup. "Just thinking," Lucy replied settling beside her. They were both quite introverted people. Deeply introspective. It had become a joke between them. Their midnight whispers to each other sometimes were full of giggling ¡°remember to use your out-loud voice¡± comments. Peril took a sip. "About tonight''s dive into a new dungeon? Or your online lover?" She offered a playful smile. Lucy chuckled. "Maybe both." She''d shared with Peril her involvement in online gaming. Peril was fascinated by the concept of an RP guild and building stories yourself in a game with others. "I love retro games," Peril had said. "And I prefer RTS over MMORPGs. No offense." "None taken." Lucy knew there was more to it. They¡¯d talked before about the underlying reason. Peril simply couldn''t immerse herself in such environments; the sensory overload was too much. Her life was about controlling stimuli and direct neural link to such a sensory intense virtual reality was overwhelming. Lucy didn¡¯t know how it differed to Perils hacking environment. That was also done through neural link she guessed. But Perils hacking was a part of the biz they didn¡¯t discuss. There was a locked room in the house that she didn¡¯t ever enquire about. Peril would tell her if she could. Lucy had been completely honest about Lethanda. The guild. Her online relationship with Ceri¡ªthe gnome thief to her elven ranger. It had been vaguely terrifying to open up about it. But Peril was intrigued. Not jealous or possessive. Her unfiltered brutal honesty and genuineness had become their mutual relationship touchstone. "I''ve had some... unconventional relationships before" Peril had hinted. Lucy sensed there was depth there. Experiences she couldn''t fathom. Despite Peril''s social awkwardness she was older and seemingly more versed in matters of the heart. Lucy didn''t pry. She knew Peril''s unfiltered honesty would reveal more when she was ready. Still it was surreal. Discussing an online relationship while cuddled with her real-world lover. She briefly wondered if the relationship learnsoft had effected her judgement to tell Peril. Or maybe it was the many critical reasoning and insight softs weighing the outcomes. Or both. That was the point of her upgrade vs a simple skillchip after all. It all melding together. "We''ve made significant progress in the game," Lucy said steering the conversation. "The Sky-City of Jeluna was a massive quest hub. Took us weeks to clear but it opened up so many new zones and dungeons. We''re around level fifty-five now¡ªstill a way from the cap but getting closer." Peril''s eyes lit up. "That''s impressive. I¡¯ve played classic MMORPGs on vid screens. There was even a great space-based one¡ªold school. No neural link." "You seem to understand the balance between online and reality." She nodded. "It''s important. Keeps things... grounded." Lucy hesitated. She wasn''t sure how she''d feel if Peril had an online relationship alongside theirs. If their roles were reversed. Would she be able to be so accepting? She winced. The relationship learnsoft was still fresh enough to spike words like ¡®authenticity¡¯ in communication, and ¡®unconditional positive regard¡¯ into her stream-of-thought. Almost worse, she knew the working definitions, and could name the academics and authors unbidden. Whatever the unbidden source, accepting and valuing each other, without conditions or judgments was a good working definition of them together right now. "What learnsofts are next on your list?" Peril asked changing the subject smoothly. "You know I love hearing about them." "I was considering more physical training," Lucy replied. "Maybe martial arts." Peril grinned. "I thoroughly enjoyed the dancing learnsoft you tried. That was... memorable." Lucy felt a warmth rise in her cheeks. She''d spent an evening in Peril¡¯s apartment demonstrating the learning synchronization dance exercises her implant had advised she practiced. Peril watched with keen interest. Eventually insisting that Lucy would be better off if she performed them naked. The memory was a very pleasant one. "Actually," Lucy continued "I¡¯ve finally worked up the courage to try a military basic training learnsoft." Peril raised an eyebrow. "Really?" "No U.S. Marine Corps training available¡ªthey prefer traditional methods it seems. So I went with the Taiwanese Marines. Had to learn Mandarin first which was... intense." Three days. With a two day cooldown for further background cognitive processing. According to what she¡¯d read online was apparently one of the most intense language learnsofts you could upload. She was thoroughly enjoying reading ¡®The Three-Body Problem¡¯ series in the original Chinese text though. Peril laughed softly. "I can imagine." "Their learnsofts are widespread online. They''ve invested heavily in this tech after some rough early implementations in the ''60s." It was either them or the Israeli softs. "How was it?" "Challenging but rewarding. I''ve even been practicing language at a local Chinese restaurant. Just listening and picking up conversations. The Marine basic training learnsoft I just slotted, so will take a full week to cycle, with another two days to process on top." "Why the Marines?" It was a good question. Lucy shrugged. "Not sure. Maybe because our Rain City is surrounded by lakes and rivers. Amphibious training might come in handy someday." Peril reached out. Her fingers brushing against Lucy''s. "You''re full of surprises." "Am I?" "Absolutely." Lucy wrapped an arm around Peril''s waist pulling her close. "Lost in thought again?" Peril teased. "Maybe I can bring you back to reality." "Please do," Lucy whispered. Peril leaned in pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. The sun bathed them in light the world outside momentarily forgotten. "Coffee''s getting cold," Lucy murmured. "Let it." * Just over a week later, Lucy was sipping green tea. The delicate aroma mingling with the subtle notes of jasmine in the air. The restaurant was a step up from the diner she used to haunt¡ªa quiet place where the clatter of dishes. Softened by the gentle strains of Chinese water music. She could curse her luck - but this wasn''t about luck. It was about her greed. This was a path she''d forged herself. Every decision. A deliberate step into the minefield she now navigated. Couldn''t even pin this on Lioncourt - tempting as that was. Sure. Cleaning up his messes had accelerated things. But the chain of command began and ended with her. She glanced down at the datapad in front of her. Diagrams sprawled across the screen¡ªdecision trees mapping out potential actions and reactions. Each branch weighed with probabilities of success. Alternative outcomes considered. Contingencies planned. Standard operating procedure for her now - Lucy actually giggled out loud at that thought, despite her bleak circumstances. The marine basic training learnsoft was still settling in her brain. She¡¯d had days of military style lingo popping across her thoughts randomly. It would settle down soon she knew. The tea was good. She wondered why she¡¯d never tried it before. Her rise to bounty hunter ¡®ace¡¯ hadn''t gone unnoticed she mused. Detective Anderton, meek as he was, wasn''t the one sniffing around anymore. Now it was Detective Ramirez¡ªa seasoned veteran with a commendable track record of exposing Cleans. High threat level. Noted. Peril had come through as always. She''d handed over Ramirez''s emails and case files from the past few days. Intel was solid. If only she weren''t the primary target. ¡®Exposed¡¯ was putting it lightly. Ramirez had connected dots Lucy hadn''t even known were on the map. Inconsistencies in her claims. Red flags the system had spiked due to Anderton¡¯s recommendation. The pattern analysis was tight. Peril warned that under this level of scrutiny it was only a matter of time, a few days, before they pierced through the redacted sections of her file. Found the visual bug. The game would be up at that point. She wondered if they¡¯d bother trying to bust her at all, or just send her file to the courts for an the immediate in-absentia murder charges and let the bounty hunters find her. Lucy cursed herself. Quietly taking another sip of tea. Yes. She¡¯d been greedy. Taken a year or mores worth of claims in few weeks. She should have realised that there¡¯d be thresholds, like hitting ¡®ace¡¯ category, which would trigger more levels of scrutiny. The mistake would now cost her everything: her home, her identity, and her freedom. The soothing melody of the guzheng offered no comfort today. She''d ordered beef zhajiangmian¡ªspicy noodles that had become a favourite since her language upgrade and her beginning to experiment more. Funny how she''d never realised most Chinese restaurants had dual menus: one for the tourists, one for those who could read between the lines. She should count herself lucky she knew. Without Peril''s early warning she''d have been blindsided in seventy-two hours tops. Probably face down in an alley courtesy of some trigger-happy bounty hunter looking to make a name. But she had time to plan. To strategise. Her noodles arrived. Steam curling upward like signal smoke. She stirred them thoughtfully. Options were limited but not all led to terminal outcomes. She was about to be exposed as a Clean. Over fifty bounty claims would unravel. Each one a thread leading back to her. The moment that happened she''d be worth a lot of money dead. ¡®Lucy Kellaway¡¯ was about to die. Question was. Would she go down with that persona? Or could she ghost¡ªdisappear completely with no leads to follow? She''d compiled a list of everyone who knew her real name and was a tangible connection. Boris topped it. Losing him would sting. No more talks about custom builds or tales from the old country. But he was a liability¡ªa possible vector for Ramirez to exploit. She had to be ruthless. Terrance knew her too. But he was embedded in Aurum''s circle and the shadows. Low risk there. Peril could craft a new identity. She''d done it before. Even recommended a some minor facial adjustments to go with it¡ªnothing drastic. Just enough to throw off automated visual scanners. A nose job maybe. Lucy had always wanted more defined cheekbones, and less frown lines. Her funds were secure. Tucked away from prying eyes. More of Peril¡¯s brilliance. But resources were depleting. The learning accelerator had been a significant investment. Her balance was healthy now. But the trajectory was only downward. Another new apartment would be needed¡ªoff-the-grid probably courtesy of Aurum. She''d insist on paying Peril for the ID work. Professionalism mattered. The procedures with Terrance - erasing her old life without a trace. Ghosting in every sense. Peril had advised a full wardrobe overhaul too. A shift in style. Operational necessity but more expenses. It all added up. And then what? No more work as a Clean. That avenue was compromised. Transit jobs would be trickier without a legitimate identity. Fake IDs could withstand casual scrutiny but folded under sustained pressure. Peril had been clear on that. It was the entire reason Lioncourt couldn¡¯t collect on his own bounty kills. She wasn''t deeply attached to ¡®Lucy Kellaway¡¯ but it was the name she''d carried through the ranks. Letting go meant embracing ¡®Leth¡¯ fully¡ªbecoming the shadow. A nickname she¡¯s decided on a sunny day at a coffee shop on a whim. She twirled noodles around her chopsticks. The spicy aroma making her mouth water. "These are excellent," she said in Mandarin to the passing waitress. The woman smiled, pleased. Then it struck her¡ªa possible angle. A shift toward a more American-Chinese appearance could aid in her transformation. But no. She¡¯d be as fake as Lioncourt, but Chinese? The thought raised a smile at least. No, his was not the example to follow. That bordered on appropriation and besides - it was too radical. Unnecessary. Minor alterations would suffice. She hoped Peril wouldn''t mind the changes. They''d grown close and she didn''t want to disrupt that connection. But what were her options? Aurum had been pulling her deeper into his operations. For weeks he''d hinted at wanting to assign her tasks that leveraged her burgeoning skill learning ability. He needed an expert in electronic security penetration. He had top-tier learnsofts ready, and he needed her acquired expertise. But to what end? Cracking high-level security while Lioncourt painted the walls red? She suppressed a shudder. A full step into the shadows. That wasn''t the future she wanted. But her avenues were narrowing. Could she leave her morals behind as easily as her ¡®Lucy¡¯ persona? But what other choices did a wanted multiple murderer have? Still better than ending up on the wrong side of a bounty hunter''s scope. She finished her meal. The heat of the spices lingering pleasantly. Settled the bill. Offered a few kind words to the staff in their native tongue. Small courtesies mattered. Stepping out into the city''s pulse she moved with purpose. Her enhanced movement synced effortlessly with the ebb and flow of foot traffic. She had decisions to implement. Protocols to follow. The mission parameters were clear. She grinned at those thoughts. Her mind was clearly rolling around in the military lingo like it was a pig-in-mud. Lucy was not even sure that last part made sense fully. This was worse, if anything, than the relationship learnsoft, she decided. Chapter 10 The scent of decaying leaves filled Lethanda''s senses. She stood atop the ruined archway overlooking the fallen township of Ravensreach. The air was thick. Mist tendrils of fog weaving through the shattered remnants of once proud homes. Shadows danced beneath the skeletal branches of dead trees. Their clawed limbs reaching toward a starless sky. She felt the weight of her bow in her hands. The polished wood was smooth against her fingertips. The string hummed with latent energy. A taut line between anticipation and release. Below her, comrades moved with purpose. The soft glow of enchantments casting halos around their figures. "Positions," she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath yet carried to each ear by magic. The team responded with silent efficiency. Ten souls bound by fate and friendship diving headlong into the abyss. Their footsteps echoed against cobblestone streets. A staccato rhythm of courage and resolve. Skeletons emerged from the gloom. Eyes ablaze with unholy fire. They swarmed like locusts. The clatter of bones a discordant symphony. Lethanda drew an arrow, the fletching brushing her cheek as she took aim. "Engage," she commanded, the word slicing through the din. Her arrow flew true. Piercing the skull of the nearest undead. It collapsed in a heap. Bones scattering like fallen leaves. Around her the battle unfolded¡ªa tapestry of steel and sorcery. "Kurgrim, hold the centre!" She called out. "Aye," Kurgrim Bloodaxe bellowed. His massive shield gleaming as he waded into the fray. Beside him Kardril the barbarian let out a primal roar. Axes whirling in deadly arcs. Lethanda didn''t know him well¡ªan acquaintance at best¡ªbut he held his ground. "Not bad for an ''off-tank''," she mused. They''d reached level sixty and ten-man dungeon raids were the new standard. The guild was adapting - though some adjustments were smoother than others. Some fights demanded two good tanks, and while Kurgrim was solid, the backups were still finding their footing. "Arcanis, take your fire-team left. Cut off their flank," she ordered, her magically assisted voice once again above the unfolding mayhem. "On it," Arcanis replied, his robes billowing as he led a group of ranged DPS. Ceri darted through the melee. Her daggers flashing like quicksilver. "If one more skeleton looks at me funny, I¡¯m starting a bone collection for a new Guildmaster¡¯s chair," she quipped between strikes. "Focus, Ceri," Lethanda admonished, gently a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "Always am," Ceri winked, smashing a flaming magical blade through a skeleton''s ribs like a sledgehammer. The courtyard battle was dual-phased¡ªfirst a relentless onslaught designed to test their coordination. Lethanda''s eyes flickered over the battlefield. She barked out some more commands. People moved around for her like chess pieces on a board. They were ready for this. Proper Planning Prevents Piss Poor Performance, she thought to herself. The capitals of each word vivid in her mind. She¡¯d planned this dungeon raid out for hours, consulting every written article and watching vid after vid. "Phase two incoming," she warned. From the shadows four massive undead spiders skittered into view. Their legs clicking ominously against stone. Venom dripped from their fangs. Pooling in hissing acidic puddles. "Kurgrim! Kardril! You know the drill." The Tanks nodded, moving to intercept. "Let''s dance," Kardril growled. Lethanda was impressed. She liked his attitude, and to see some roleplay in the middle of such a tense fight. "Maintain distance between them," Lethanda reminded. "Their poisons stack. But are individually applied." "Got it," Kurgrim affirmed, bracing himself as a spider lunged. His shield-warrior abilities made him a superlative tank, and his shield counter-striked hard, smashing sticky gore from the creature. The rest of the party fell into formation. Lethanda had drilled them on the small unit tactics needed for the fight on an open field in front of the dungeon. Breaking the group into fire-teams for flexibility was turning into an inspired idea of hers. It had taken time, and some had questioned. But they all saw the benefits now in her approach. "Switch in thirty seconds," she called. Arcanis''s team unleashed a barrage of spells. Arcane missiles streaking through the air. "DPS group burn them down," he shouted. Lethanda winced. Despite all his progression in roleplaying he occasionally still slipped. She¡¯d have a quiet word afterwards. He needed to set a better example as a class leader now. Ceri moved with liquid grace. Targeting weak points. Her shadow teleport ability giving her unmatched movement as she struck again and again. "These things are uglier up close," she remarked. "Stay sharp," Lethanda cautioned, loosing another arrow. She loved Ceri¡¯s quips but she was tense. "Switch now," she commanded. Kurgrim and Kardril swapped positions seamlessly. Allowing toxins from particular spiders to dissipate. With each spiders poison being individually applied, each stack was effectively starting anew on them. Their former spider opponents poison stacks would now fall off, and the new adversaries poison stacks would have to start all over again building from zero. It was a key boss-fight specific manoeuvre they''d practiced with her outside the dungeon to overcome the deadly stacking poison mechanic. Drilled to be fair. A necessity in this perma-death realm, thought Lethanda. No room for error. "Perfect execution," Lethanda shouted at them, a surge of pride warming her. Her guild was really doing it. They were listening. The practice had paid off. "Arcanis! Focus fire on the northmost spider," she directed. ¡°But don¡¯t drop him into execute range yet.¡± It was critical none of the four undead spiders died prematurely. They had to be all dropped as a group within 10 seconds of each other. Get it wrong and a brutal berserk buff was applied to the remaining spiders which would start one-shotting the tanks. "Consider it squashed," Arcanis replied, casting a torrent of flame. His group moving as one to lock onto his target. The spider screeched. It¡¯s exoskeleton cracking under the assault. "Gather," Lethanda ordered. The tanks herded the four undead spiders into a tight cluster. The fight end-phase was deadly. Lethanda knew this was the second major coordination hurdle. The mobs damage was about to spike as they all hit low health levels. Not a berserk phase which would kill them, but definitely a time for the tanks and their healers to start using all their long cooldowns. "AoE now!" Lethanda hated using the game term. But sometimes even on an RP server you needed to be straightforward. A maelstrom of fire, ice and shadow engulfed the four enemies. Explosions rocked the courtyard as the spiders collapsed. Limbs twitching before falling still. Silence hung for a heartbeat. "Yes!" Ceri exclaimed, punching the air. "Well executed team," Lethanda said, allowing herself a rare smile. The spiders bodies even revealed good progression loot for them. Some definite upgrades there for some people, she thought. Lethanda walked up to everyone in the team. Giving individual praise. Build team spirit and confidence, she thought. When they followed orders on the battlefield, they¡¯d get rewarded for it. It was key to build trust in her command ability. "That''s what I''m talking about," Kurgrim laughed, clapping Kardril on the back. They''d done it. Ravensreach''s first major hurdle cleared¡ªa significant milestone in any guild''s journey on Gates of Baraadon. Ceri stepped forward her eyes bright. "Listen up everyone," she began. "Full wipes at this stage can be catastrophic. We''ve all heard stories¡ªguilds falling apart after losing their top players here. ¡®The Guildkiller¡¯ they are calling it." Arcanis nodded solemnly, "Remember Crimson Blade. Ravensreach broke them." Lethanda surveyed her friends, "We''ve come a long way from being called a ''carebear guild''," she remarked. "Who''s calling us that?" Kurgrim asked indignantly. "Doesn''t matter," Ceri interjected. "What matters is we''re proving them wrong." "Agreed," Arcanis said. "Our coordination was spot on." "The fire-team concept is really paying off," another member chimed in. "Thanks to Lethanda''s leadership," Ceri smiled - shooting her a grateful look. "Just doing my part," Lethanda replied modestly. The acknowledgment warmed her. She loved Ceri to bits on a personal level. But she was also her CO as guildmaster - so the praise mattered when it came from that source more. "Alright let''s take five," Kurgrim suggested. "Rest up before we push deeper." As the group settled, snippets of non-RP conversation floated through the air. This wasn¡¯t ¡®camp-firing¡¯ time. This was a de-stress after an intense fight ¨C even Lethanda couldn¡¯t bring herself to correct them. "Did anyone else update their gear stats after the last patch," someone asked. "Yeah, had to rework my entire build," another groaned. It was true, Lethanda thought. The last patch that had dropped had pushed her to have to re-assess her build too. Still a Shadow Ranger, but now focused on applying DOT¡¯s rather than just direct damage. Ceri plopped down beside Lethanda. "So, thinking about the next boss?" "Always," Lethanda lied. Brushing aside thoughts of build-maps, DPS sims and talent tree calculators. "It''s a step up from this one." "Can''t wait," Ceri grinned. "Your calls were so on point." Making time to seek her out for individual praise, Lethanda mused. That¡¯s what made her a great guild leader, she innately knew good leadership. Good commander. No training needed. "Couldn''t have done it without everyone''s trust," Lethanda acknowledged. The words ¡®Forever Loyal¡¯, crossed her stream-of-thought. That trust was something that was earned - dedication and loyalty returned back to the guild as a group. "Trust. And a little bit of fear," Ceri teased. "You can be intimidating. I¡¯ve never seen you this intense before. You coached those two tanks like a drill sergeant." "Only when necessary," Lethanda smirked. Was she being overbearing? Arcanis approached, munching on a virtual apple, "So after we clear Ravensreach, what''s next?" "That''s for tomorrow," Lethanda said firmly. They needed the platoon to refocus on the task at hand quickly. Stay in the moment. "One step at a time." The break ended and they prepared to move forward. Equipment checked. Spells ready. Minds focused. Lethanda made a few moments to talk with her fire-team leaders individually to ensure they were fully back to it. "Alright team," Lethanda''s voice carried authority and confidence. "Let''s show Ravensreach who we are." As they formed up and as they ventured deeper into the shadows. Lethanda couldn''t help but feel a swell of pride. They''d passed a critical test¡ªnot just of game avatar power - but of unity, teamwork and coordination. W¨¯ zh¨¥n w¨¨i zh¨¨xi¨¥ ji¨¡huo g¨£nd¨¤o ji¨¡o''¨¤o, she thought.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. "Onward," she shouted to them, gripping her bow tightly. ¡°The path ahead is fraught with danger, but together, we are unstoppable!¡± So much for just being a ¡®carebear guild¡¯, Lethanda thought. * The scent of damp stone and ancient decay clung to the air. A miasma that seeped into Lethanda''s very bones. The deeper they ventured into the walled city, the more the shadows seemed to whisper secrets. Promises of glory entwined with threats of oblivion. She ran her fingers along the feathered shaft of an arrow. The texture grounding her amid the ethereal glow of ghostly apparitions they''d left in their wake. Her comrades moved with a practiced grace. The quiet shuffle of boots on cobblestone the only sound aside from the distant echo of dripping water. The eerie luminescence of ghoul-fire cast flickering patterns on the crumbling walls. Revealing faded murals of a time long past. Lethanda could almost taste the history here¡ªa bittersweet tang of triumph and tragedy. They had dispatched the last of the guardians, Spectral Knights whose hollow eyes betrayed a sorrow deeper than death. Now the final barrier stood before them: the lair of the Duke of Death. The shadow-corrupted Elf-Lord Highglade. His presence was a palpable weight pressing against the edges of their consciousness like a storm about to break. "Alright team," Ceri began, her voice steady, but tinged with excitement. "This is it. We''ve got our strategies down. Let''s make this count." Piopei shifted uncomfortably. His usual polite demeanour replaced with a hint of apprehension. "Uh guys? Small problem." Lethanda turned. The subtle movement causing her cloak to ripple like liquid night. "What is it?" she asked, her tone crisp. "I''ve. Uh. Run out of cooldown reagents for my big AoE healing cooldown." Piopei admitted sheepishly. "I need to fast travel back to the nearest vendor. It''ll only take fifteen minutes." A cold surge of irritation flashed through her. "You what?" The words came out sharper than intended. "I''m really sorry," he stammered. "I thought I had enough but¡ª" "Unbelievable!" Lethanda snapped. Her eyes narrowing. "Do you realise you''re letting down the entire platoon? We can''t afford delays because someone didn''t plan ahead." The group fell silent. The ambient sounds of the dungeon suddenly amplified in the void left by their stunned voices. "Lethanda," Arcanis interjected cautiously. "it''s not that big of a deal. We can wait." She whirled on him. A mix of frustration and something darker flickering across her face. "In this fighting force everyone is expected to take responsibility! To play their part! We can''t succeed if people are this careless." Piopei''s expression crumbled. Guilt etched into every line. "I''ll be quick," he mumbled. Initiating the fast travel sequence, his form dissolving into particles of light. An uncomfortable tension hung in the air. Ceri stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on Lethanda''s arm. "Hey, can we talk for a sec?" Lethanda exhaled sharply, but nodded. "Fine." Ceri guided her away from the group. Stopping beneath an archway draped in creeping vines that seemed to pulse with a faint otherworldly energy. "Look," she began, her usual bright eyes clouded with concern. "We''re all keyed up. But we can''t talk to guildmates like that." Lethanda crossed her arms defensively. "He was unprepared. That''s unacceptable at this stage." She had stopped herself adding ¡®sir¡¯ to that sentence with palpable effort. She internally cursed at her learnsoft mod for a moment. She was beginning to grasp it¡¯s impact on the situation. "We''re human," Ceri insisted softly. "We make mistakes. We''re not the kind of guild that shouts in people''s faces. That''s just not us." A muscle in Lethanda''s jaw tightened. The words resonated uncomfortably. Echoing against the knowledge of what had probably led her to act out. "I..." She faltered searching for the right response. Struggling to even grasp how to explain. Ceri tilted her head, studying her intently. "This just isn''t like you Lethanda. What''s really going on?" Silence stretched between them. Thick as the shadows enveloping the dungeon. Finally Lethanda sank to her knees, so their eyes were level. The weight of unspoken burdens pressing down. "Yes," she whispered her voice barely audible. "So much is wrong." Ceri''s gaze softened. "Talk to me." "I have this new piece of cyberware," Lethanda confessed, her words tumbling out in a rush. "It''s glitching. My life''s... falling apart. I can''t control it." Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. "I''m so sorry." Before she could say more, Ceri wrapped her arms around her holding her tightly. The warmth of the embrace was a balm against the cold despair gnawing at her. For a moment Lethanda allowed herself to lean into it to draw strength from the simple act of connection. "I''m here for you," Ceri murmured. "I may not be able to fix what''s happening IRL. But you''re not alone." Lethanda pulled back, slightly meeting her friend''s eyes. "I just really needed this win," she admitted. "Something positive and solid to hold onto." "I understand," Ceri said gently. "But as guildmaster I have to say¡ªyou can''t speak to our guildmates like that. It''s not fair. And it''s not who we are." A pang of guilt twisted in Lethanda''s chest. "You''re right. I crossed a line." Ceri offered a small smile. "Take a couple of days off from the high-stakes stuff after this. Focus on what you love about the game. Be the ¡®sensationalist¡¯ for a while. Not the raid leader. We¡¯ll do it together. Haunt the bars of the towns, sniff the forest air. Everything I know you really love about this place. No more skeletons. No more leadership. Just me and you.¡± Lethanda nodded slowly. "You''ve really grown into this role you know." "Someone had to," Ceri teased lightly, her eyes regaining their usual sparkle. They made their way back to the group. Piopei had returned, his demeanour cautious as he avoided meeting Lethanda''s gaze. Before anyone could speak Lethanda stepped forward. "Everyone I need a moment." The team turned their attention to her a mix of curiosity and lingering tension evident. She took a steadying breath. "Piopei, I''m sorry. The way I spoke to you was unacceptable. I let my stress and tension out on you, and that''s not fair to you or anyone here. The way I acted. That¡¯s not us. That¡¯s not the Fellowship." He looked up. Surprise evident. "It''s okay," he replied hesitantly. "I should''ve been prepared." "No," she insisted. "We win as a guild. And we uphold certain values¡ªRespect. Support. Understanding. I failed to embody those and for that I apologise to all of you." Kurgrim Bloodaxe strode forward. His heavy armour clinking softly. Without warning he enveloped Lethanda in a bear hug. "You''re hard on yourself lass," he rumbled. "We''re a team and that means we carry each other''s burdens." She managed a small laugh. "Careful Kurgrim. You''re going to crush me." He released her with a chuckle. "Can''t have that. We need you sharp for the Duke." Arcanis nodded thoughtfully. "First time tackling a dungeon of this calibre is tough. We''re all feeling the pressure." Piopei stepped closer. "I was upset. Yeah. I¡¯d screwed up, and you shouting wasn¡¯t helping. But I get it. No hard feelings?" "None," Lethanda assured him, relief washing over her. She honestly hoped that was the end of it. "Group hug!" Ceri declared. Pulling them all into a haphazard embrace. "Is this mandatory?" Kardril grumbled, though a faint smile betrayed his amusement. "Absolutely!" Ceri retorted. The raid group all dogpiled on top. Laughter rippled through the team, dispelling the remnants of tension. "Alright," Arcanis clapped his hands together. "Shall we go defeat an undead corrupted elf lord?" "Let''s do it," Lethanda agreed, feeling a renewed sense of purpose. As they reorganised, Lethanda couldn''t help but internally curse at how her implant had disrupted her online sanctuary. Her friends, this game¡ªit was supposed to be her escape, not a battlefield fraught with complications. "Ready when you are," Ceri said, giving her an encouraging nod. "Form up," Lethanda instructed, her voice steady. "Same strategy as we discussed earlier. Remember communication is key." They advanced toward the ominous gates of the lair. The air growing colder with each step. The darkness ahead seemed to pulse alive with malevolent intent. They crossed the threshold. The oppressive energy of Lord Highglade''s domain pressing in. Shadows twisted into grotesque shapes and a low chilling laugh echoed from the depths. "Welcome trespassers," a voice dripped with malice. "Prepare to join my legion of the damned." "Cheery fellow," Ceri muttered. "Focus," Lethanda chided her softly. "The last challenge awaits!" she shouted to the raid team, tightening her grip on her bow. "And together we''re ready!" * The Forest embraced Lethanda with a tapestry of sensations. The dappled sunlight filtered through the canopy casting golden patterns on the moss-covered ground. The air was alive with the scent of wildflowers. The distant trill of songbirds. Leaves whispered secrets as a gentle breeze stirred them. The earthy aroma of damp soil grounded her. Ceri had outdone herself again. A lavish picnic sprawled before them on a checkered cloth¡ªhoneyed breads, ripe fruits glistening with dew, cheeses infused with herbs, and flagons of sweet mead. It was a feast fit for a raid group. Yet today it was just the two of them. From the corner of her eye, Lethanda noticed Ceri watching her intently. Concern shadowing her usually bright gaze. But Ceri remained silent. Allowing Lethanda the space to absorb the moment. Drawn by the melodic babble of a nearby stream, Lethanda wandered over. Her footsteps barely disturbing the carpet of leaves. Kneeling by the water''s edge she dipped her hands into the cool flow. The sensation was invigorating. The crystal-clear water swirling around her fingers like liquid silk. She closed her eyes. Letting the sound and touch envelop her. A respite from the turmoil churning within. Her Ranger''s Sanctuary enveloped them in an invisible barrier. Ensuring no wandering creatures would disturb their peace. But just as she began to lose herself in the tranquillity, a mischievous giggle broke through. Before she could react, a playful shove sent her tumbling into the stream. The shock of cold water elicited a gasp. Replaced quickly by laughter as she surfaced. Droplets sparkling like diamonds in her hair. "You looked like you needed that!" Ceri grinned, her eyes dancing with mischief. Lethanda shook her head chuckling. "I did. I really did." She waded back to the bank. Her clothes drying instantly with a whispered incantation. Settling onto the soft grass she reached for a tall glass filled with elven wine. The liquid catching the light in hues of amber and rose. "I''m going to step down as raid leader," she said quietly, swirling the wine in her glass. "For a while at least." Ceri arched an eyebrow but remained silent. Her expression encouraging yet unobtrusive. "Kurgrim knows the strategies as well as I do," Lethanda continued. "He leads with confidence, and the team respects him." Without a word Ceri tossed her a small cake. Its icing adorned with delicate flowers. Lethanda caught it effortlessly, taking a bite and savouring the burst of sweet berries. They sat in companionable silence. The gentle sounds of the Forest wrapping around them like a comforting blanket. Finally Ceri broke the quiet. "You had me worried during the raid," she admitted softly. "You didn''t seem like yourself. For a moment I thought maybe you''d let someone else pilot your account." Lethanda grimaced. "No. It was me. Just... dealing with some major real-life issues. Serious stuff." She hesitated. "I don''t want to unload it all on you." Ceri reached out, her fingers brushing lightly against Lethanda''s hand. "You don''t have to share anything you''re not comfortable with," she said gently. "But I want you to know I''m here for you. Not just as a game friend." Her gaze held a depth that made Lethanda''s heart skip. "I''ve been hoping... that maybe we''re more than just friends," Ceri continued, a hint of vulnerability in her voice. Lethanda felt a mix of emotions swirl within her. Peril''s brutal honesty echoed in her mind urging transparency. She searched for the right words. "We''ve been growing closer," she acknowledged. "But we haven''t really talked about what that means." Ceri nodded slowly. "I guess we''ve both avoided labelling it," she admitted. She took Lethanda''s hand firmly. The warmth of her touch reassuring. "But regardless of labels. I care about you." "It''s important to me that we''re authentic with each other," Lethanda said carefully. "To be clear about boundaries and honest about who we are." A flicker of uncertainty passed over Ceri''s face surprising Lethanda. "I don''t need to know everything," Ceri replied, her tone measured. "I have no intention of connecting in real life. I''m content with what we have here." Lethanda tilted her head processing the sudden unexpected shift. "You don''t want to know about my life outside the game?" How could you be truthful and transparent with someone who actively didn¡¯t want to know? Ceri shook her head gently. "The real world is messy. Complicated. Here we can be who we want to be. Free from all that. I want to support you. But I also want to keep this... us... separate from everything else." She leaned in slightly. Her voice softening. "Whoever you are out there. Whatever challenges you''re facing. It doesn''t change who you are to me. You''re my Lethanda,¡± she started to grin. ¡°The noble elf ranger who occasionally goes overboard when given the slightest whiff of responsibility and power." A smile tugged at Lethanda''s lips. "Guilty as charged." Ceri''s eyes searched hers. "I just don''t want to lose this. Don''t hurt me by bringing in things that could complicate what we have. I don''t want this to end." Lethanda felt a pang of conflict. The ¡°don¡¯t hurt me,¡± was stark and clear in Ceri¡¯s voice. It even had a pleading quality. She had been prepared to share more. To bridge the gap between her virtual self and reality. But Ceri''s reluctance was clear. Her desire to keep their connection within the boundaries of the game palpable. She inhaled deeply. The scent of pine and wildflowers filling her lungs. The Forest seemed to hold its breath. The gentle rustling of leaves the only sound besides the murmuring stream. "Alright," Lethanda said softly. "I respect that." She would tell Peril all about this chat though. Ceri didn¡¯t seem to want to have real transparency in this relationship. But genuineness and openness was the beating heart of what she had outside-the-game. Ceri visibly relaxed. A smile spreading across her face. "Thank you." They sat together. The sunlight casting dappled patterns around them. Lethanda let the moment breathe. The serenity of the Forest seeping into her. "Tell me more about your plans," Ceri prompted, her tone lightening. Shifting the conversation completely. "If you''re stepping back from raid leading what will you focus on?" "Maybe I''ll explore some of the uncharted regions and areas," Lethanda mused. "Rediscover why I fell in love with this world in the first place. Try and find places that are as meaningful as this one." "That sounds wonderful," Ceri agreed. "And who knows? Maybe I''ll join you on some of those adventures." "I''d like that," Lethanda replied, a genuine smile warming her features. Ceri nudged her playfully. "Just promise you won''t disappear on me." There was an undercurrent there, Lethanda realised. She was worried Lethanda would ghost completely and leave the game. No. She¡¯d already ghosted from her real life. She wasn¡¯t about to do it again online. "I wouldn''t dream of it." Chapter 11 Boom. The muffled thud of the gun echoed in the enclosed lane. The heavy suppressor and subsonic rounds did little to mask the sheer force behind each shot. Lucy almost winced. Hollywood lied; silencers didn''t fully silence - even with subsonic 9mm rounds. The crack was still loud enough to make her ears ring beneath the earmuffs. She made a mental note. She unscrewed the suppressor her fingers moving with practiced ease. Peering down the dimly lit range she watched the paper target sway slightly new holes clustered tightly near the centre. Near 11pm the place was almost deserted. Lucy missed Boris''s range¡ªthe smell of gun oil. The worn wooden counters. Boris''s gruff laugh. It had only been a month since she''d ghosted her old life. Since Terrance had reshaped her face. If Lucy didn''t already feel so alienated maybe the loss would sting more. This place¡ªDexler''s Guns and Ammo¡ªwas adequate. Another hole-in-the-wall in the city¡¯s underbelly. Rob Dexler seemed nice enough but lacked personality. No Boris that''s for sure. She swapped out the weapon in her hand for its now twin¡ªanother Heckler & Koch VP17. The weight was familiar solid. But it was no SIG. Another loss. Lucy missed her SIG''s smooth action. The way it felt like an extension of her arm. Still her decision to carry identical pistols as shoulder main and leg backup was proving smart. Same training weight. Same ammo. Same clips. She wondered why she hadn''t thought of it before. Getting the guns hadn''t been hard. Rob didn''t bother with federal forms or background checks. Cash under the table no questions asked. Aurum had vouched for him. "Solid if uninspiring," he''d said. Fitting description for both Rob and the twin VP17s, Lucy mused. "Solid if uninspiring," she muttered, loading fresh clips. All ties had to be cut. Carrying the weapons Lucy Kellaway was known to use was a risk. Her old gear was at the bottom of the lake sealed in a black bag weighted with concrete. The SIG itself had been returned to Aurum. Even ¡®Leth¡¯ had to die. That persona was too closely linked to her work as a Clean and Transit. Too many possible return vectors. Another liability. She''d spent hours with an AI chatbot to craft a new identity. "Skadi"¡ªa Norse giantess associated with bowhunting and the wilderness. Pretty close to a Dark Ranger - Peril had laughed at that. Lioncourt had smirked, damn him, he¡¯d understood the reference instantly. Had he done a course on Norse mythology for faux-French sociopaths or something? At least Aurum was vaguely impressed. Short, simple, he¡¯d said, and completely disassociated with anything Lucy or Leth. A good name for a fresh start. Lucy¡¯s beloved rawshark mask was gone too. Too distinctive. Too tied to her past. Now ¡®Skadi¡¯ used a standard white ballistic faceplate emblazed with a Norse labrys double-headed ax. She''d even burned the unused business card of the Seventh Street Samurai. No loose ends. Boom. Boom. Lucy quick-drew and fired. Rapidly transitioning between her shoulder and leg holsters. Five shots from each in succession. Her movements were fluid. Almost balletic. The pistols barked in her hands and she felt the subtle recoil absorb into her arms. ¡®Skadi¡¯ retained Lucy¡¯s sky-high ammo costs at least, she smirked. Her pistol skills were one area she hadn''t enhanced with learnsofts. No surprise there; Lucy was already proficient. The challenge was finding software that could take her from "good" to "master.". Common skills like personal grooming or fashion & style had readily available programs that could elevate someone to expert levels. Accounting? Plenty of learnsofts could make you a whiz in no time. But expert-level specialised combat skills? The market was thin. Most learnsofts capped out at a competent-level at best¡ªenough to be reliable, but not exceptional. The military basic training had rounded out her tactics to that of a fresh Marine grunt. Useful as a foundation. But their was a definite ceiling on that. Lucy paused, letting the guns cool. Even with alternating the barrels were warm to the touch. She could almost hear Boris''s gruff voice advising her to take a breather. With a sigh she holstered the pistols. The motion seamless. At least Lucy had finally taken Peril''s advice and uploaded the GTK cyberware manual learnsoft. Peril had teased her mercilessly. "You put a full pound of chrome in your skull and didn''t bother reading the instruction manual?" she''d mocked. Truth was, the interface had been overwhelming¡ªan endless array of settings and sub-settings. Loading the learnsoft demystified it. She now agreed with Peril: she''d been foolish not to do it sooner. Idiotic even. It explained a lot. Terrance hadn''t set up the cyberware incorrectly as Lucy had initially suspected. If anything he''d maxed out every parameter for peak performance. But maximum wasn''t always optimal. Lucy now understood that running at full tilt increased cognitive load. Causing some of the side-effects she''d been grappling with. Mental fatigue. Emotional blurring¡ªthe lines between conscious and subconscious thought had been smudged. After the learnsoft''s guidance she''d dialled back the settings by a meaningful amount and extended the co-processing cooldowns too, along with tweaking some other parameters. The difference was palpable. Clarity returned. Balance restored. The side-effects where still there, but only very mildly. She¡¯d happily trade ¡°peak-performance¡± for not screaming at her guildmates like a drill sergeant again. Lucy walked over to the bench. Movements smooth as silk as always. From her bag she retrieved cleaning tools and oil. The repetitive motions of disassembling the pistols were almost meditative. The simple H&K cleaning and maintenance learnsoft was a prime example of specialised knowledge that pushed her into expert territory, Lucy mused. She could probably strip and reassemble the VP17 blindfolded now. Every spring and pin mapped in her mind. Her personal grooming and style learnsoft had been another game-changer. At least Peril enjoyed the results. Gone was the inconspicuous drab attire. Now she sported a modern techno-rocker look¡ªa garish yellow armoured raincoat. Green hair that complemented her new elfin features. Peril had teased, "I''m dating a Dark Elf Ranger from Baraadon." It was true enough. Peril had been supportive through the facial transformation. Even helping her during recovery after the surgery. With the chance to redesign her features however she¡¯d wanted, Lucy had unashamedly chosen to look like a more humanised Lethanda¡ªthe person she often felt she truly was. Lucy finished reassembling the pistols. Each part sliding into place with a satisfying click. Oiled, cleaned and ready. She packed up her gear, slinging the bag over her shoulder with effortless grace. "Later Rob," she called out as she passed the counter. Rob glanced up from his magazine grunting something unintelligible. He didn''t even make eye contact. Definitely not a Boris. Stepping out into the cool night air Lucy took a deep breath. The city pulsed around her¡ªsirens in the distance the hum of traffic lights flickering against the dark sky. She set off towards Chinatown craving the comfort of a post-session green tea from her new favourite spot. Second favourite, she corrected with a thought. Another possible trace return-vector that had to be cut. She would never return to her real favourite restaurant again. Her steps were light. Almost gliding along the cracked sidewalks. Shadows played along the alleyways. She noted the homeless stacked in the alleys. Hollow eyes stared at Lucy. It was deadly cold still. More than a couple wouldn¡¯t survive the night she knew. Lucy thought about her own dwindling finances. She wasn¡¯t in imminent danger of joining the homeless on the streets. But unless she found an income she had only six months on the outside before joining them at her current spending rate. If she cut down, maybe a stretch to nine months. In another life she could have just uploaded one of those expert Accounting learnsofts and made enough to survive on legit, she mused. But she knew the truth of it from late night chats to Peril. Her fake ID¡¯s were paper thin. They¡¯d survive a cursory glance from a cop on the street, or random face scan like she¡¯d herself done to Aurum and Lioncourt. But not much else. Lucy navigated the streets with unconscious precision while lost deep in her thoughts. The rhythm of the city was a familiar song. Her orientation module was doing the heavy lifting as she daydreamed. Her two very obvious holstered weapons and too smooth stride was an open warning to any gangers. Lucy was half a block from the tea house when they struck. A black van screeched around the corner. Tires screaming against asphalt. Doors flung open and masked figures poured out moving with coordinated efficiency. Civilians scattered shouts echoing off the buildings. Instinct took over. Time seemed to slow. She reached for her pistols¡ªbut too late. An electric stun baton crackled to life behind her. The van¡¯s obvious entrance had been a distraction from a much closer threat. Pain exploded at the base of her skull. Her vision blurred. Legs giving way. Either by intent or luck they¡¯d hit her first time on an absolute weak spot, with the ideal weapon to completely disable her. Her in-skull chrome went into a failsafe shutdown at the shock to protect itself from the power surge. Lucy lost all motor functions instantly. "Got her," a voice barked. She tried to fight. Muscles responding sluggishly or not at all. She spasmed. The world tilted as they dragged her towards the van. Her training screamed at her to resist. But her body betrayed her. Darkness edged her vision. The last thing she saw was the sign of the tea house flickering above the characters glowing faintly. Everything went black. *This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Her first emotion upon waking was surprise. She was alive. That didn''t track. With a bounty on her head marked ¡®dead¡¯ survival wasn''t the expected outcome. Her last memory was bracing for a double tap to the skull¡ªthe kind she''d delivered herself countless times working as a Clean. "I know you''re awake," a man''s voice drifted into the void. Darkness pressed against her eyes. A blindfold. She tried to shift but found her limbs restrained. Fingers fumbled at the base of her skull. Someone was attempting to jack into her neural link. Panic surged but some training kicked in. She triggered the panic button on her security module. Maximum encryption protocols slammed into place. It would take even her ten minutes and a series of passphrases to breach that defence. "Got a live one here Grimes," muttered a voice behind her. Frustration tinged his words. "Encryption''s tight. No immediate access." "Not unexpected," another voice responded from in front of her¡ªmeasured cultured. She pegged him as ¡®Grimes¡¯. A rustle and the blindfold was lifted. Harsh light flooded her vision momentarily blinding her. Blinking she took in her surroundings: a concrete room bare walls no windows. Underground most likely. Opposite her sat a thin man in a simple chair. Legs crossed. Hands resting casually. Sharp eyes appraised her from a pale angular face. "Ms. Skadi," he began, enunciating each syllable with an affected Boston accent. "We have four hours." She glanced down. Plastic ties bound her wrists and ankles to the metal chair. "In four hours your use to me ends," Grimes continued. "And I will put a bullet in your head. Be cooperative. Help me and I might let you go. I have no reason to harm you once I have what I need." She met his gaze searching for truth. He was lying. The operation that nabbed her was professional. Could be corporate, could be organized crime. It happened too fast to tell. The ambush. The stun baton¡ªthey knew what they were doing. Her voice came out hoarse. "Why am I not dead?" Behind her the technician cursed softly. "No go. It''ll take at least twelve hours to crack this level of encryption." "Unfortunate," Grimes mused. "You''ve locked down your neural link impressively. More time than we have to override it." He leaned forward slightly. "Pity. I was looking forward to placing you in a virtual environment. See how you fare under... enhanced interrogation. Chainsaws. Immolation¡ªthe classics." Lucy kept her face impassive. He was trying to rattle her. It felt clich¨¦d like a bad vid or stream she¡¯s seen from years ago. Did VR torture chambers even exist? She wasn''t keen to find out. But her security measures would prevent any neural hijacking, she silently thanks Aurum for suggesting the upgrade. Grimes watched her eyes. Searching. She offered nothing. No sense in revealing fear. "You''re an enigma, Ms. Skadi," he said after a beat. "Just give up the location of the Siege Perilous and you''re free to go." The Siege Perilous. No one called her that. Peril. They were after Peril. How much did they know? She maintained her silence. Grimes smiled thinly. "Three hours and forty-five minutes," he noted glancing at a sleek watch on his wrist. "At which point. Well. You understand." He produced a tablet. Swiping through images before turning it toward her. Photos of her and Peril. Arms linked, laughing under neon lights. Dancing three nights ago. "You know the operator," Grimes continued. "Your companion''s handlers are quite adept. We lost five men attempting to trail you both that evening. Met violent ends. Your handiwork?" She recalled the night. Dancing. Champagne. Lioncourt''s hovering in the background. Five dead operatives sounded like his style. Protecting Peril no doubt. And if Lioncourt was involved, Aurum surely knew. "I could escalate matters," Grimes said, breaking into her thoughts. "An induced pain sequence perhaps. A spinal tap linked to your nervous system. Make you feel like you''re burning from the inside out." He delivered the words casually as if discussing the weather. She stared back unflinching. "But I suspect I know why you''re so composed," he went on. "Our tech scan revealed significant hardware in your cerebral cortex. Let me guess¡ªex-military? Former corporate asset? Advanced modifications in your sensory centres. A pain editor installed perhaps?" He tilted his head studying her reaction. "I''ve broken subjects with pain editors before." She was momentarily puzzled. Unidentified tech? Her learning accelerator was likely in safe mode after the shock from the stun baton¡ªa failsafe to prevent overload. In low-power mode it might appear as a mystery to their scans. Silence stretched between them. Grimes seemed content to let it linger. Finally, he spoke again. "So¡­Chemicals then? Is that where we''re headed? A cocktail of truth serums and hallucinogens. Old-school methods for an old-school problem." He sighed theatrically. "We both know there''s no such thing as a true ''truth serum'' but under the right conditions minds can be... persuaded." He stood up. Smoothing an invisible wrinkle from his suit. "Three hours and thirty minutes" he announced. "Time flies." Stepping forward he replaced the blindfold over her eyes. "I''ll let you contemplate your options." Darkness enveloped her again. Footsteps receded. A door creaked open and shut. She was alone with her thoughts. Terrified, but refusing to show it to them. * She was floating. Weightless. Suspended in a void where time had no meaning. A voice drifted through the darkness calm and soothing; "You''re in a safe place." Thinking was hard. Thoughts slipped away like smoke. A giggle bubbled up unexpected. She felt euphoric as if wrapped in a warm blanket of contentment. "Tell me who are you really," The voice was gentle. Probing. She tried to focus. The darkness pressed in but the voice anchored her "Who am I?" she murmured "I''m Lethanda. Protector of the Forest. Keeper of the Glade. Under my bow no evil shall go unchallenged." "Yes, yes," the voice replied, a hint of irritation seeping through. "You''ve been saying that for two hours now. I must say your mental fortitude is impressive." She drifted. Thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind. Why was she here? It didn''t matter. She was safe. The voice said so. "Where is the Siege Perilous?" the voice asked, more insistent. "It''s¡­" She searched for the words. "Yes." the voice prompted. "It''s a seat of wonder where only the greatest and most noble knight of the land sits," A smile touched her lips. The answer felt right. "Yes, I know the context," the voice snapped, impatience growing. "But where is the Siege Perilous!" Her mind felt heavy. Like wading through molasses. Everything was hazy, "Why is it so hard to think?" she whispered. "Focus." the voice commanded "Where is the Siege Perilous?" She sighed. A mixture of frustration and sorrow welling up. "I''m heartbroken about Ceri," she blurted out. "There I''ve said it. Why is she so closed off? I want to be real and authentic with her, but she won''t let me in! It hurts. I¡¯ve said it now." "Tell me about Ceri," the voice said abruptly. Her expression tightened. "What about her?" "You mentioned being heartbroken. Care to elaborate" She clenched her jaw. "That''s personal." "Everything is relevant," the voice replied smoothly. "Emotions can cloud judgment. Does Ceri know where the Siege Perilous is?" "Ceri¡­. Ceri¡­. Is the best damn gnome thief in Baraadon!¡± "Damnit! Enough! Enough of this gamer nonsense," the voice cut in sharply. "Where is the Siege Perilous!" "In King Arthur''s court?" she offered. A light laugh escaping. The answer seemed obvious. Almost amusing. A heavy sigh "You''re testing my patience," the voice warned. She blinked into the darkness. A flicker of defiance stirring, "Perhaps if you asked better questions." Silence stretched thick with unspoken tension. "Very well," the voice said coolly "Let''s change tactics." A faint rustling reached her ears. She sensed movement but couldn''t place it. The fog in her mind began to thin clarity seeping back in. "Who are you?" she asked softly. She knew him, the name was elusive though. A pause. "I''m the one seeking answers," the voice. Grimes. She remembered now. He was Grimes. "And you''re the one withholding them. The location of the Siege Perilous. Your time is nearly up." She took a slow breath "Even if I knew. Why would I tell you?" "Because Ms Skadi - cooperation could spare you a lot of unnecessary discomfort in dying." Darkness swallowed her as Grimes replaced the cloth over her head. * Voices murmured at the edges of her fading consciousness. Sharp cracks echoed¡ªshe knew those sounds. Silenced weapons. The muted cough of suppressed gunfire. A scream pierced the void. Then another, more wrenching. A door crashed open somewhere near. Hands grabbed her. Yanking her upright. The world tilted. "Mon dieu, hold still," a familiar voice snapped. Lioncourt. Swearing under his breath. Cursing in rapid French. Other voices swirled around¡ªJapanese, sharp and clipped. Someone sliced through the bonds at her wrists. The blindfold was lifted. Blinking against the glare she focused on his face. Lioncourt smiling, but eyes edged with worry. She''d never seen him worried before. Ever. About anything. "Bon sang de merde," he muttered, scooping her up effortlessly. Like she weighed nothing. She''d known he was strong. Heavily augmented. But the ease startled her, it was like he was picking up a small child. He cradled her gently, whispering apologies. "You did well. Ma ch¨¨re. How didn''t you crack? Incroyable." His voice. Usually smooth and composed, now tinged with concern ¨C even guilt. It was the first time she''d heard him anything less than unflappable. ¡°Je suis tellement d¨¦sol¨¦, petite demoiselle. J''aurais d? faire mieux. Je t''ai laiss¨¦e tomber." "You''re dying, little one," he said softly. "Far too many chems pumped into you. The bastards opened the taps on you. Ils ont eu ce qu''ils m¨¦ritaient pour leurs crimes." He moved swiftly through the dim corridors. Footsteps barely a whisper. She clung to consciousness the surroundings blurring past. "We need to get you to a proper clinic, ou tu es une femme morte,¡± he continued. "And I''ve failed both you and Peril today." He was cursing again. A stream of French spilling out. "Je suis d¨¦sol¨¦. So sorry. We didn''t know until thirty minutes ago." Her voice was a ragged whisper. "Dying?... Tell Peril... I was so scared. But I gave them nothing. I love..." "We know," he assured her, glancing down with a fleeting smile. "Hold on for God''s sake." His voice went on. He was praying for her she realised. In French. He picked up speed. The building scenery a smear of shadows and flickering lights. She felt the acceleration. His augmented strides covering ground with unnatural swiftness. "Hold on, damn it," he urged again. "Peril knows. Ces salauds ont tout enregistr¨¦. She cracked it to find you. She cracked half the damn net to find you! Il va y avoir un prix ¨¤ payer pour ?a!" Her vision wavered. "How fast... are we... going?" "Faster than you can imagine," he replied, a hint of his usual charm creeping back. "Reste juste avec moi, jeune demoiselle.¡± The world spun. Colours blending into a whirlpool. Time had passed. She woke but could barely see¡ªeverything was a haze. They were in his car now. The screaming, primal roar of the engine had woken her as Lioncourt red-lined it. "Almost there," he promised, his grip tightening on her hand. But she was slipping away. The darkness pulling her under. "Hold on. Tiens bon, mon amour de fille," his voice echoed. Distant now. She let go. Chapter 12 The midday sun sliced through the loft''s wide windows casting sharp angles across the hardwood floors. Lucy moved in a fluid rhythm. Muscles engaging with each precise push-up. A thin sheen of sweat coated her skin catching the light as she transitioned seamlessly into sit-ups. The real wood under her hands and feet felt grounding. A luxury of Peril¡¯s loft apartment she''d come to appreciate. She was unashamedly naked. Embracing the simplicity and freedom of it. Each movement was deliberate graceful¡ªan unconscious display of the enhancements coursing through her body. The past three weeks had been a collision of money and medicine a testament to what wealth could achieve. Near death from multiple organ failure and now here she was muscles firing on all cylinders. On the sofa nearby Peril lounged comfortably equally at ease only just in her own skin. She sipped her coffee eyes flicking between the subscription business news channel and Lucy''s workout. Peril didn''t exercise herself claiming she preferred the ¡®floor show¡¯ of Lucy''s routines. Lucy smirked at the thought; these naked workouts hadn''t been the norm at first. She¡¯d started the week shorts and a light T. After watching her the first time with interest, unwrapping her with her eyes, Peril had asked with typical bluntness and honesty if Lucy would mind exercising naked. As she loved to watch. Peril was many things¡ªinnocent definitely wasn''t one of them. She hadn¡¯t agreed to the request just for Peril though, she was self-honest enough for that. Her girlfriends intense and hungry gaze had led to some fun post-workout showers together these last few days. As Lucy moved into a stretch she caught Peril''s gaze lingering. The M&A corporate news droned on, but Peril seemed genuinely torn between the unfolding business drama and the flex of Lucy''s tight muscles. Lucy enjoyed being the distraction; she''d be worried if she couldn''t pull Peril''s attention. Her mind wandered back to the clinic. The first week spent unconscious. Machines doing the work her organs no longer could. The second week relearning how to move. Each day a victory. Modern medicine was astounding¡ªif you had the money. Without Peril''s wealth she''d be a statistic. She traced a finger along a fading scar. The chemicals had ravaged her body. ¡°Overwhelming toxic load leading to multiple organ failure,¡± as one of her clinic doctors had put it on the medical chart. This had led to acute kidney injury first, and then full double kidney failure. Now cybernetic kidneys hummed quietly within her. A similar scar marked where a full cybernetic liver replacement had been implanted. Even her heart bore medical cyberware now too, not a full replacement, but tech that made up for the myocardial damage from cardiotoxicity. She''d been lucky¡ªbrain and lung damage had just been narrowly avoided. Finishing her stretches, she headed to the kitchen. Peril seemed engrossed in the news. Eyes focused yet distant. Lucy never cared for business updates. Hell, she barely followed national news. The local Riverside News was her beat; what happened outside her district was another world. Opening the fridge, she smiled at the new bright yellow note stuck to the door: "Remember to use your outside voice to tell Lucy/Leth/Skadi/Lethanda you love her." With a ?. The message itself made her heart soar every time she read it. The slashes between the names caught her eye. Four names. Each a facet of who she was. Peril had acknowledged them all. She poured herself some apple juice contemplating the woman she''d been living with these past weeks. Peril was a maze of contradictions¡ªcarefree spirit, energetic lover, intense artist, enigmatic businesswoman. Sketchpads littered the loft filled with maps and diagrams she''d never dared to examine. Peril would vanish into the back room for hours, and messages pinged frequently on her devices. Lucy respected the boundaries. She was seeing a new side of Peril. Glimpses of the person behind the fun times they¡¯d spent after Christmas. What did Aurum have her doing? The why and how of her wealth, or what she was doing remained unspoken. Lucy respected that whatever it was, Peril was genuine enough and unfiltered enough to simply ask her views and opinion if she wanted them. Returning to the sofa she settled just out of arm''s reach. Peril glanced over. A loving look softening her sharp features. She muted the news feed. "You''re never going to ask me, are you?" Peril said suddenly. Blurting out what was clearly at the top of her mind without restraint. Lucy raised an eyebrow. "Ask you what?" "How. Why. Who I really am. What they were looking for." Peril''s eyes searched hers. "I¡®ve waited days now. Expecting something at some point. You''re never going to ask. Are you." Lucy smiled gently. "No." Peril looked genuinely perplexed. "Why not? You nearly died because of me. You deserve those answers." Lucy sighed leaning back. "Who am I to ask who you are? I''m the one with four different names remember? The one with the literal bounty on her head." Peril nodded slowly. "Fair point." "Besides," Lucy continued. "You''ve taken care of me. Respected me. Been genuine with me - more than anyone else ever in my life. You''re Peril. That''s enough for me." "I don''t even know how you know my name was Lucy," she added. "And I don''t really care. Really, I don¡¯t. I trust you. What Aurum has you doing for his organisation? If you need to tell me. I trust that you will." Peril''s eyes shimmered with amusement. "I love you so much," she said a soft laugh escaping. "But despite all those problem solving and critical thinking learnsofts, I can''t believe you still think I work for Aurum." Lucy tilted her head. "Wait, what?" "Aurum works for me silly.¡± Peril said softly. ¡°As does Lioncourt." * The cool desert breeze whispered against Lethanda''s skin. Carrying with it the scent of distant dunes and nocturnal blossoms. She buried her fingers into the thick ethereal mane of her animal companion. Feeling the crackle of energy dance beneath her touch. Threads of glowing spirit light wove through the wolf''s fur. Occasionally shedding sparks of lightning that shimmered like fallen stars. "Good boy," she murmured. Her voice barely more than a breath. She pressed her cheek against his massive shoulder¡ªthe wolf easily stood to her hips height. A formidable presence. His eyes gleamed with shadows. Flickers of stormlight in them. A wildness tempered by loyalty. ¡®Forever Loyal¡¯, Lethanda thought, remembering the marine motto. Hati embodies that. They stood together at the heart of an oasis. A fragile jewel amid endless sands. Palm fronds rustled overhead and the gentle trickle of water played a soothing melody. Yet beneath the serene surface Lethanda sensed the teeming life of the desert night. Crawling. Creeping. Buzzing. Insectoid creatures lurked just beyond the perimeter. Emissaries of the underground hives that infested the region. She gave the wolf''s mane a final affectionate ruffle. Reached into her pouch. "Hungry?" With a swift motion she tossed a slab of his favourite meat into the air. He leaped. Effortlessly snatching it mid-flight with a satisfied howl that echoed against the starlit sky. A smile tugged at her lips. How had she. Ceri¡¯s ¡®sensationalist¡¯. Never embraced the Beast Companion Ranger path before? The warmth of Hati¡¯s presence. The silent communication between them¡ªit was a revelation. Then again. Ever since the trials of the Forest she''d been almost constantly in the company of others immersed in the clamour of guild life. Now solitude had its allure. She still returned to the bustling city hubs for guild events. Even signed up for dungeon crawls, though never as a leader. But as an explorer her journey was hers alone. Punctuated by brief encounters with fellow adventurers on their own quests. Ceri joined her sometimes. Their laughter mingling with the wind. Helping Kurgrim with his epic blacksmithing quest had been a delightful detour¡ªmulti-continent hopping. Guiding him through landscapes she''d come to know intimately. But often she simply wandered. Letting the world''s wonders unfold before her. She pursued quests, here and there. But mostly she hunted rare spawns, or delved into the open world content that Gates of Baraadon offered in abundance. The developers had crafted a realm teeming with secrets and stories for those willing to seek them out. Dynamic events that transformed the environment narratives. That evolved with each action. Lethanda cherished these moments. Instead of the repetitive ¡®kill eight of these¡¯ tasks she found herself mending fences for a beleaguered village. Guiding lost travellers or dispelling ancient curses. Just acting with honour and kindness in the world, helping people without a defined quest. Each deed rippled outward. The world responding in subtle shifts¡ªa new character appearing. A hidden path revealing itself. The story unfurling like petals of a nocturnal flower. She¡¯d been so locked into dungeon delving that this new type of content hadn¡¯t really registered till now. She emerged from the oasis. The sands stretching out like a silver sea under the moon''s gaze. Her senses sharpened. The ranger''s instincts honing in on distant movements. With practiced ease she notched an arrow. The bow an extension of her will. She walked forward, firing. Beasts lurking at the fringes fell to her relentless volleys. Each arrow finding its mark with lethal precision. Beside her Hati launched into the fray. Anything she tagged he pursued with unbridled ferocity. A whirlwind of shadow and lightning. Together they were unstoppable. And yet, as she watched him bound back to her side tongue lolling in a canine grin - she couldn''t help but laugh. "You''re just a big softie aren''t you?" she teased. Before this. She''d dismissed the Beast Companion specialisation. The Shadow Ranger dealt more damage in dungeon raids¡ªa necessity when coordinating with a guild. Efficiency trumped all. But now she realised how much she''d been missing. The synergy with Hati was unparalleled. Quite frankly the class was overpowered for solo play, Lethanda admitted to herself frequently. She''d always heard whispers among players¡ªrumours that pets made for the best soloing experience. She''d paid them little mind. But experiencing it firsthand was something else entirely. Drawing her bowstring back she unleashed a torrent of arrows. Insects at the edge of her considerable bow range fell, one after another. Her movements steady and unhurried. She walked forward. A harbinger of quiet devastation, as Hati darted ahead ensuring nothing came too close. Anything that dared breach their perimeter was swiftly dispatched. The efficiency was almost clinical. She was reminded of Lioncourt¡ªhow he moved through enemies without hesitation. Leaving a trail of fallen foes in his wake. It was a sobering comparison. She''d never felt this powerful in the game. Even more so when she realised Hati could loot the fallen as they pressed on¡ªa convenient perk that made their slow march from point A to point B all the more effortless. Her guildmates had been surprised to say the least. They''d expected her to lag behind in levels given her solo excursions. Instead she was three levels ahead. Her experience bar steadily climbing as she explored. But today wasn''t about the grind. She was headed to Usul''s Point¡ªa place of breathtaking beauty. Where the sand dunes rolled like waves frozen in time. The horizon stretched into infinity. It marked the edge of the unpassable sandworms'' territory. Creatures of legend and challenge, which blocked any progression past the hill. Hati bounded ahead, snapping up another snack with evident delight. "Easy there," she called after him. "You''ll spoil your dinner." Oh, Hati. Acquiring him had been an adventure in itself¡ªa complex questline that had her scouring the realms for rare items. Deciphering ancient texts and braving treacherous terrains. But every moment had been worth it. He was more than a companion; he was a kindred spirit.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Usul''s Point was just as she remembered. The night sky unfolded above a canvas of stars unmarred by the lights of civilization. The wind whispered secrets known only to the desert carrying a hint of spice and mystery. She settled onto a smooth rock letting the tranquillity wash over her. Hati lay nearby. His form occasionally flickering with surges of power. Eyes ever watchful. Her thoughts drifted to Peril. Since the revelation she''d said little. She needed time¡ªa space to sift through her feelings and the myriad questions swirling in her mind. Peril had understood. "Take your time," she''d said her gaze earnest. There was a vulnerability there. An eagerness to be open. To bridge whatever gap had formed. So Lethanda had retreated here. Seeking clarity amid the endless dunes. "What should I ask her?" she mused aloud, eyes tracing the constellations. She glanced at Hati. "The questions could be endless and I know she''d answer them all." She sighed. "But maybe not knowing everything is better. We live in a dangerous world¡ªI know that now more than ever. Perhaps I protect her by not knowing certain things." Hati tilted his head ears. Perked as if considering her words. "You''re no help," she said with a soft laugh, reaching over to scratch behind his ears. He huffed contentedly and flopped onto his back presenting his belly. She obliged. Her fingers weaving through the spectral fur. The sensation both cool and tingling, like touching a cloud charged with static. As the night deepened she invoked her Ranger''s Sanctuary. An aura enveloped them ensuring they would remain undisturbed. It was a small comfort. A bubble of peace in an unpredictable world. A shooting star streaked across the sky. Its tail a fleeting brushstroke of light. She watched it fade then rose to start a fire. The flames danced, casting a warm glow as she prepared a hearty meal for Hati¡ªhe''d earned it. She sat in contemplation. The crackle of the fire and Hati''s gentle munching the only sounds. Questions spun in her head. When she logged off, it would be a time to get answers. For now, under the vast expanse of the desert sky, she found solace. * The chopping knife was a blur against the cutting board. A staccato rhythm echoing in the quiet kitchen. Lucy moved with precise grace. Each slice of the vegetables uniform and swift. The aroma of fresh ingredients mingled in the air as the Chinese meal began to take shape. She''d only uploaded the basic cookery learnsoft yesterday. Followed by more softs on Chinese cuisine and specific recipes. With her implant''s internal AI Lucy had found that she could sequence and prioritise the learning. The entire learnsoft would take two days to fully integrate but Lucy was getting adept at extracting the necessary skills on demand. Her internal AI highlighted the techniques she needed: how to julienne vegetables, control wok temperatures, manage timing, more. It was like having a fast-lane her learning of very specific high-level knowledge nuggets. And she''d been craving this specific dish. Peril watched her from across the kitchen island. She was attempting to appear relaxed, but was unable to hide the tension in her eyes. They''d agreed to talk over dinner. Already Lucy could sense the undercurrent of anxiety. Both wore loose pajamas¡ªPeril had gifted Lucy a set adorned with Gates of Baraadon motifs after she''d come out of the clinic. It was Lucy''s first piece of game merchandise and she loved it. Lucy poured them both cups of green tea. The delicate steam curling upward. She''d genuinely grown to enjoy the stuff and her caffeine-addicted lover was delighted to find her favourite chemical present in yet another form. "You know." Peril said with a soft laugh. "You''re not really taking advantage of your new liver and kidneys. You could be knocking back Scotch and not feel a thing." Lucy smirked, stirring the tea. "Maybe. But I think they''ll have their hands full keeping up with your coffee habit." She began tossing ingredients into the hot oiled wok at precise intervals. Timing was crucial; the learnsoft had been emphatic about that. Minutes passed in comfortable silence. The sizzling of the wok filled the air as she expertly managed the heat and seasoning. Once finished she plated the meal with a flourish and they sat down at the small dining table. Their tea cups clinked together like champagne glasses. "So..." Peril began tentatively, "did your VR dive help?" Lucy took a sip of tea before answering. "Yes, it really did. Thanks for giving me the space I needed." They ate quietly for a moment. The flavours were rich and satisfying. "We need to sort out what you''re really going to call me while we''re together," Lucy said, breaking the silence. A playful grin tugged at her lips. "I''m not about to be called ''slash''-other." Peril chuckled. Her shoulders relaxing slightly. "Names and personas are a necessary evil in the shadows. Whoever you wish to be, I''ll support you." "With you. In these four walls, or when we''re alone, and no one else can hear¡ªI''m Lucy," she said firmly. "I''d like for you to call me that. It''s a name that still has meaning for me." Peril nodded thoughtfully. "I can do that. Skadi remains the mask for the outside world?" "Exactly. If you ever feel unsafe or unsure about a situation call me Skadi. It''s our signal." "And Lethanda?" Peril inquired a gentle smile playing on her face. "You did have your facial surgery to look more like her. Clearly she resonates with you." Lucy laughed softly. "I admit choosing to look like my game character might earn me a psych referral. But honestly I spent hours in the character creator crafting that face." She touched her cheek lightly. "This face." Peril reached across the table her fingers brushing Lucy''s hand. "You love it. And I understand. It''s a form you''ve chosen. One that reflects who you are." "I suppose it is." Lucy squeezed her hand. "And I appreciate that you see that." "I''ve grown to love it too," Peril said softly. "I''m no stranger to people needing to change faces and identities. But for you it''s been a real journey." They returned to their meal. Peril took delicate bites. Her appetite modest as always. Lucy found herself worrying if she was eating enough. But decided not to press the issue. "This is really good," Peril commented between bites. "You might have a future as a chef." "Thanks," Lucy replied with a grin. "Though I think I''ll stick to my day job." Peril set down her chopsticks her gaze turning serious. "And now your questions for me." Lucy nodded. "Yes. I do have questions. But before we get into that I want to say¡ªwe live in a strange dynamic. Boundaries on what we share are okay. I want you to know that I understand the need for privacy sometimes." Peril tilted her head. "Ah. The ¡®operational compartmentalisation¡¯ from your Marine basic training rears its head." Lucy chuckled, though instead she thought privately about the relationship learnsoft she''d slotted without mentioning it to Peril. Concepts like privacy boundaries and boundary management had been useful¡ªperhaps she was getting a practical exam right now. "Alright first question," Lucy began. "Did you have anything to do with Aurum recruiting me? Or have you influenced the jobs he''s given me?" Peril blinked clearly surprised. "That''s your first question? That''s what''s on your mind?" "Yes," Lucy said simply. Peril took a moment before answering. "No. Aurum is a professional. He''s been embedding himself into the Rain City''s underworld for years now developing a network for me. He recruited you completely independently. The jobs he''s assigned were his own decisions. I haven''t discussed any of them with him." Lucy felt a weight lift off her shoulders. "That''s good to hear. Honestly it would''ve undermined how I viewed my choices and our relationship if you''d been pulling strings." Peril offered a faint smile. "Well I''m glad to have passed that test." "Second question," Lucy continued. "Did you have Lioncourt introduce us?" Peril seemed both amused and exasperated. "These are the things you want to know?" Lucy laughed at her reaction. "Yes, they are." Peril shook her head a genuine smile breaking through. "No manipulation there. Lioncourt dragged me out and set us up on a blind date. It was his idea entirely¡ªthough I suspect he enjoys playing matchmaker more than he lets on." "How do you control him?" Lucy asked curiosity piqued. "How can you do anything with that man?" Peril leaned back contemplating. "Control is a strong word. At best I point him in a direction. Maybe light the fuse. And then get the hell out of the way." "You had him delivering free food to the homeless," Lucy pointed out. She recalled Lioncourt''s out-of-character explanation for his presence at the warehouse that night. Peril chuckled. "Yes. In his bright Rosso Corsa coloured Ferrari no less." "But, of course," Lucy said mimicking a faux-French accent. They both laughed. "Okay next question," Lucy said her tone becoming more serious. "How much did my learning accelerator implant really cost you?" Peril''s smile faded. She stumbled over her words. Starting and stopping several times. She looked at Lucy pleadingly. "Take your time," Lucy encouraged gently. Peril took a deep breath. "These aren''t the questions I expected," she admitted. "But you deserve honesty." Lucy waited patiently. Peril named a sum. Lucy winced. The figure significantly higher than she''d anticipated¡ªenough to buy Lioncourt several more high-end sports cars. "I suspected it was more. But that''s... substantial. Knowing you effectively subsidised me without telling¡ªit stings a bit." Peril''s eyes reflected a mix of guilt and concern. "I''m sorry. I didn''t mean to hurt you or manipulate you. After our chat at Christmas I saw what you wanted to achieve. I knew your funds wouldn''t stretch to the equipment that could truly help you. I just wanted to support you." Lucy nodded slowly. "I understand your intentions were good. But hiding the true cost¡ªit feels like a breach of trust." Peril looked down at her hands. She started to say something. Stopped. A few unintelligible sounds came out. Then she managed in a strangled whisper, ¡°I''m truly sorry." They sat in silence for a moment. Lucy sipped her tea gathering her thoughts. She was concerned at the toll this chat was taking on Peril. Should they stop now? "To be honest," Lucy said finally "I suspected you''d done something like this. But hearing the actual amount makes it more... real." "This isn''t the conversation I was expecting," Peril murmured. Lucy pressed on. Her voice steady but gentle. "And the expert-level electronic security learnsoft that Aurum has dangled as an incentive for me to dive deeper into his world¡ªis that another gift from you? Where you secretly trying to help me get a job now that I couldn¡¯t be a Clean or Transit? Remain useful? Allow me to earn again before I run out of money?" Peril''s expression shifted to one of distress. She opened her mouth, but no words came out. "I''m sorry," Lucy said quickly. "That was unfair. I''m sitting here with organs you paid for keeping me alive. I have no right to throw your kindness back in your face like that." Peril seemed to shrink into herself her eyes glistening. "I never wanted to make you feel this way." But she wasn¡¯t denying the questioning. Lucy knew she¡¯d hit the nail on the head. Lucy reached across the table. But Peril pulled back slightly. "I thought these were things we could discuss," Lucy said softly. "Our relationship is built on trust and honesty." Peril''s voice was barely above a whisper. "I just wanted to help. I admit¡­ I didn''t think about how it might affect you¡­ Us." "I know," Lucy replied softly. "And I appreciate everything you''ve done. But I needed to address it. There¡¯s a power imbalance in our relationship due to your wealth ¨C we¡¯ve always known that. That¡¯s always been out there. In the open. You saved my life with these cyber-organs. The private clinic. Healthcare beyond anything I could have ever afforded. I¡¯m deeply grateful. I really am. But to use your wealth like this without telling me or it being open¡­¡± ¡°It robs me of agency," she internally winced at the word. The damn relationship learnsoft¡¯s words again. Not hers. ¡°It¡¯s impacted on my ability to make their own choices and act upon them while with you. I¡¯m worried that I now feel obligated to act or make choices based on my feelings of deep financial indebtedness to you, rather than just due to my love of you.¡± What? A literal definition of self-agency rolling off my tongue now? Lucy cursed Terrance for having maxed out her implant¡¯s settings on install. Those very first few learnsofts she slotted before reading the GTK manual, and turning everything down a notch or three, were still the most problematic ones. Peril nodded weakly, tears beginning to spill. "I''m...¡± she struggles getting the words in order. Managing finally a hoarse whisper, ¡°...so sorry." Seeing her in such distress, Lucy''s resolve melted. She stood and moved around the table wrapping her arms around Peril. "Hey," she whispered holding her close. "Nothing we''ve talked about changes how I feel about you." Peril was unresponsive. Her body tense. She¡¯d shut down completely, Lucy knew. It¡¯d all been too much. She should have stopped. She cursed internally again at the relationship learnsoft. At her implant. How could something which was meant to support her decision-making have backfired so spectacularly on her? Why hadn¡¯t she been able to stop the flow of words? If this was the learnsofts exam practical - it had failed. No, she thought bleakly, I¡¯ve failed. "Let''s take a break," Lucy suggested gently. "It''s been a lot to process." She carefully guided Peril to the sofa cradling her as they sat down. She turned on some soft music hoping to create a soothing atmosphere. Peril rested her head on Lucy''s shoulder. Her breaths shallow and uneven. "I didn''t mean to overwhelm you, I¡¯m sorry my love." Lucy said. "I just wanted us to be open with each other. I don¡¯t know what big questions you were expecting me to ask. But they weren¡¯t those ones were they¡­ I love you Peril. Take your time. I¡¯ll be here waiting for you." Peril lay against her silent. Lucy knew that she possibly couldn¡¯t even hear her right now. She would keep the soft words flowing until Peril resurfaced. The first words she would hear when she broke through again would be soft and kind ones. The only sounds a quiet melody and the distant hum of the city outside. Whatever shadows and complexities existed in Peril''s world Lucy knew that right now the most important thing was to be there for her. To offer comfort and understanding. She held Peril tightly. Ready to give her all the time she needed. Chapter 13 Valentine''s Day was creeping up, Lucy thought. Staring out the coffee shop window. The cold sleet blurred the edges of the city. A grey wash over the crowd. People''s breaths puffed white in the chill air. Tiny clouds that vanished almost as soon as they formed. She wondered if she''d still be in a relationship by then. Or if she''d shattered what she had with Peril during their last conversation. Lucy sipped her coffee¡ªtoo expensive. The cheaper green tea was still preferred. Aurum would be here soon anyway. She reflected on the past 48 hours. Leaving Peril¡¯s apartment to go back to her own the morning after their chat had already been the plan. But the weight of it hung between them. They''d cried together. Peril said it felt like Lucy was leaving her for good. Lucy assured her that wasn''t the case. That their relationship was solid. Unshakable. They''d exchanged messages since then. Peril was usually so self-assured. She seemed uncertain, almost needy. It was unlike her. The talk had still cut her ¨C them ¨C deeply. The wounds would take time to heal. Another sip. Lucy wouldn''t normally set foot in a place like this. But Aurum had insisted on the location. She suspected a reprimand was coming. When she¡¯d left Lucy had noticed that Aurum was scheduled to cook Peril¡¯s lunch. Worse - Lioncourt was on the docket for cooking dinner. Aurum would chew her out. Lioncourt might do worse. She took another sip. Trying to push that thought aside. To distract herself she pulled up the Riverside News on her datapad. The criminal underworld was taking hits. Odd ones. Supply chains disrupted. Key players eliminated. It was surgical. No discernible pattern. But the effects were clear. Drug dealers found their money launderers dead. Suppliers refusing to risk deliveries. Organ harvesters lost their transport and carry contacts overnight. Lucy suspected Peril''s hand in this. But she''d had the chance to ask, chosen not to. She remembered an old show from her childhood¡ªan aged billionaire cum former superhero mentoring a young prot¨¦g¨¦. Corny sure. But the idea stuck. Was Peril the rich playgirl behind-the-scenes pulling strings? Using Lioncourt as a lethal vigilante to slice through the city''s underbelly? A French Dark Knight cutting through the night, striking fear into the hearts of criminals. Lucy had seen the bodies after Christmas. At the time it seemed like Lioncourt was on a random kill spree that happened to target criminals. She¡¯d even considered if he was simply saving for another sports car. Maybe it wasn''t so random after all. It sounded absurd. But Peril was a romantic. Lucy reminded herself yet again: these were questions she could have asked - but didn''t. She cursed her wandering mind for trying to solve questions she didn¡¯t want answers to. Aurum came into view¡ªa massive presence in a tailored suit. The large umbrella looked dainty in his grasp. He navigated the tables with surprising grace. His gaze scanning the room. As before, the surrounding tables were reserved. Giving them a bubble of privacy. He signalled the waiter for coffee before settling into the chair across from her. The seat creaking under his weight. He set two white noise generators on the table once again. Their soft hum filling the space between them. "Skadi, when you said you wanted the electronic security learnsoft, I was pleased," he began sliding a sleek data chip across to her. He was glaring just a little despite the seemingly warm words. Clearly unhappy. But keeping it professional. Lucy met his gaze. She was unhappy with herself too. "Skadi," he started again hesitating. "You can''t go in that hard with Peril. You just can''t." "I know," she said quietly. He sighed. A deep rumble. "I haven''t seen her like this in a long time." She nodded saying nothing. "You should count yourself lucky that Lioncourt took it upon himself to patch things up," Aurum continued. "He considers it his gentlemanly duty apparently to bring you two lovebirds closer together again." She raised an eyebrow. "Lioncourt said that?" "He did. I even told Peril that you accepting this chip means you''ve forgiven her completely." He leaned forward the table seeming small between them. "But I''m Street. Like you, Skadi. Not a idealist or dreamer. I know that if someone''s bailing on a relationship - they take the diamond ring with them." She tilted her head. "Meaning?" "We both know this chip isn''t standard issue. It''s expert-level corporate. Peril spent days stripping out the booby traps. The proprietary code which would fry your brain. This is valuable. Sure it requires someone with that super-expensive chunk of chrome you have in your head to fully use. But the black-market resale value of this thing, stripped of its defences as it is now. Possibly enough to retire on. Possibly enough to get someone thinking - that they could ghost-away, live off the proceeds." "Worth a lot," he emphasised. "The diamond ring. If you''re planning to ghost her. Street says you''d take the chip and disappear." She stayed silent letting him speak his piece. He fixed her with a hard stare. "I want you to know Skadi¡ªnew face and all¡ªif you ghost after taking this. There''s nowhere you can hide. Nowhere that would be far enough. No hole dark enough. Forget Lioncourt. I''ll find you myself." Lucy sipped her coffee. He really was terrifying when he wanted to be, she thought. Meeting his gaze steadily. "Peril is fortunate to have a friend like you, Aurum. I understand your concerns. You''re mistaken. Accepting this chip is my way of showing her I''ve forgiven her." She set the cup down gently. "I love her deeply." Aurum studied her for a moment before leaning back. "All right." He shifted gears. "So, the chip. When can you be ready for electronic security jobs?" Her internal AI was already crunching the numbers. The file size was immense, but storage wasn''t the issue. The cognitive load was. She''d need to downgrade several of her current learnsofts from ¡®reinforcement mode¡¯ to ¡®latent¡¯ or deactivate them entirely. Running multiple reinforcement cycles consumed significant processing power. Her AI projected a timeline. Twenty-four days. Lucy¡¯s astonished, never before contemplated something that large. She added a buffer for additional cooldown periods. "A month," she said. He raised an eyebrow. "Really? I thought with your system you''d process it in two weeks." Lucy could. On max settings. But that''s... very unwise, she thought. Would be waking at 2am in the morning with all her apartments electronics disassembled and wondering why she had a screwdriver in her hands. She shrugged in answer to his question. Aurum gave a curt nod. "A month it is. Expect my call." He paused. "And Skadi¡ªsort out any moral questions you have before I call. This is deep shadow work. No more skirting the edges. When I call in a month, I¡¯m not debating jobs with you, or discussing your personal boundaries." She nodded. "Understood." Yes, she had a month to come to terms with that choice too. Aurum stood. The chair scraping against the floor. Without another word he turned and made his way out the other patrons casting sidelong glances at his imposing figure. Lucy exhaled slowly. She glanced at her datapad; a new message had come in during their meeting. Ceri: Lethanda I need you online tonight if possible. Guild meeting. I really need your voice and support. Ceri: TPK. It¡¯s not good. She frowned. Total Party Kill. Even the words sent a chill through her. * The chill air of the Spine Mountains wrapped around Lethanda like an old cloak. Its crispness invigorating her senses. The scent of pine mingled with the distant whispers of snow-capped peaks. Each breath a reminder of the wild beauty that surrounded her. Hati padded beside her, his massive paws leaving faint imprints on the frost-kissed ground. His fur shimmered with ethereal light tendrils of mist weaving through the silver strands. The occasional crackle of lightning rolled through his coat. She glanced down at him a smile touching her lips. "Ready for another adventure?" His only response was a low contented growl eyes gleaming with anticipation. Her happiness was twofold today. Before logging on she''d found an envelope waiting on her doorstep marked in exquisitely crafted handwriting: "Important; apprends ?a d''abord!". Inside was a learnsoft chip labelled ¡®Sensual Oil Massage Techniques ¨C Expert¡¯. Lucy had chuckled, shaking her head. "Peril you''re right¡ªLioncourt is an old pervert," she mused aloud. The thought of using it warmed her. This is possibly just what they needed. A playful spark that might ease the tension that had lingered between them. She''d scanned the learnsoft¡¯s surprisingly extensive content, noting the cycle time¡ª6 hours of learning. 2 hours of AI co-processing and cooldown time. Manageable before diving into the electronic security learnsoft she''d planned to slot if she was still to hit her planned one month deadline with Aurum. "Might as well enjoy some... extracurricular education," she¡¯d smirked. A sudden resonant howl pulled her back to the present. Hati''s voice echoed across the games starting zone. A majestic sound that turned heads. New players¡ªfresh-faced adventurers just beginning their journeys¡ªstopped in their tracks. Eyes wide at the sight of seasoned warriors returning to where it all began. "Enjoying making an entrance are we?" Lethanda teased the wolf. Hati huffed. A plume of mist escaping his muzzle. The village of Esterell lay ahead. Its quaint cottages and cobblestone paths a stark contrast to the rugged wilderness. Yet today a shadow hung over it. Six of their guildmates had fallen¡ªcut down and forced to start anew. The weight of it pressed on her as she approached a familiar tavern. Pushing open the heavy wooden door she was met with a cacophony of voices. The warmth of the hearth battled the chill she''d brought in. The scent of spiced ale and roasted meats filling the air. Laughter and raised voices mingled but there was an undercurrent of tension.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. At the bar Piopei was engaged in a heated exchange with a strikingly beautiful human warlock man¡ªKardrill she realised. Noting the extra ''l'' in his name. The off-tank Barbarian was back. Albeit in a new form, and a new class. "Tell me what happened guys," Lethanda interjected her tone firm but gentle. "And stop shouting at each other." They stopped. She¡¯d been uncertain that would work. Kardrill turned. His eyes flashing. "We were in the Upper Spire. Got to the Queen fight." She suppressed a shudder. The Upper Spire¡ªa labyrinth of twisting horrors. Sticky walls that pulsed like living flesh shadows. That whispered secrets best left unheard. She''d braved it before. But it was a place that tested even the bravest souls. "The Queen," she prompted. "Yeah," Kardrill continued. "We were holding our own until someone decided to take a swim in acidic blood." Lethanda raised an eyebrow. Her mind piecing together the scenario. The Queen¡ªa monstrous black-carapaced abomination fused to her egg-laying apparatus. Immobile but deadly. Her acidic blood forced players to stay alert. Constantly shifting positions to avoid searing pain. "And then?" she asked. Piopei sighed. "He panicked. Stepped right into the blood. And in scrambling out, got smacked by her arm sweep." "The one that''s as subtle as a thunderclap?" Lethanda remarked dryly. "Exactly," Kardrill snapped. "He got launched into the eggs." She winced. The eggs lining the room were a death sentence. Disturb one and you unleashed a horde of vicious minions¡ª eight-legged rapid little face-huggers that overwhelmed even the sturdiest defences. "He died instantly," Piopei said. "Then the eggs hatched. Chaos. Three more down before we could blink." "I called it. I called it then. For everyone to use their escapes," Piopei insisted. "Me and the ranger bailed." Kardrill''s eyes narrowed. "You didn''t call loud enough. Half of us didn''t even know what was happening. You hung us out to dry." Lethanda considered this. At level 40 every class had gained an escape ability. Cooldowns varied but the options were there. Rangers could ''play dead'' every ninety seconds¡ªa handy trick. Piopei had his ''Divine Shield''¡ªgranting invulnerability, it worked long enough to use a return-to-town astral journeystone. "Bubble-hearth" some called it mockingly. Lethanda preferred to think of it as tactical retreat. "So¡­ Four dead," she summarised. "Healer and DPS escaped. Tank and remaining DPS left to face the Queen alone." "First I knew we were in trouble was when the heals stopped," Kardrill muttered. "By then it was too late." The tavern door swung open and Ceri stepped in. Her tiny diminutive presence commanding immediate attention. Her eyes scanned the room taking in the somber faces. Lethanda knew she¡¯d been planning this entrance and what to say to her guildmates for the last twenty minutes. "We''ve taken losses," she began her voice steady. "But we''re the kind of guild that rebuilds." A few cheers rose up. Lethanda lifted her glass in silent support but noted the lack of enthusiasm from some corners. Arcanis sat surrounded by a cluster of whispering players. His expression troubled. Ceri pressed on. "I propose we take a break from the levelling grind. Let''s help our friends regain their footing. Join them in quests. Share resources. These things happen on a hardcore server¡ªwe need to stick together." Arcanis finally spoke. His tone measured. "But we''re so close Ceri. Most of us are level 76 or 77 now. The cap is within reach. Endgame dungeons. Epic gear¡ªwe can''t lose momentum now." Murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd. The allure of reaching level 80. Of being among the first to breach the Gates¡ªthe very namesake of their journey¡ªwas palpable. "I get that we can help a little," Arcanis continued. "But we should also recruit more endgame-ready players. We can''t slow down the guild''s progress." Ceri''s composure faltered slightly. "Are you suggesting we leave our own behind?" He shook his head. "No. Not at all. But we have to be realistic. We''ve made enormous strides. We were once a ''carebear'' guild. But now we''re leading the pack. A leading edge guild on this server. Do we really want to jeopardise that?" Kurgrim slammed his tankard down. "This guild never leaves its own behind!" A chorus of agreements and dissent erupted. Lethanda glanced at Piopei who nodded. "Kurgrim''s right!" she shouted over the din. Hati barked in solidarity. Arcanis held up his hands. "Look, I''ll be transparent. I''ve been approached by another guild." A hush fell. This wasn''t entirely unexpected; good players were always in demand. "If we''re not going to push forward," he said slowly "and we''re reverting to old ¡®carebear¡¯ ways then I''m sorry¡ªI have to consider my options." Ceri looked stricken. "You''d leave?" He met her gaze. "If things don''t change. Yes." The weight of his words hung heavily. A founding member contemplating departure was a blow. Lethanda felt a pang of guilt. She''d been distant lately. Wrapped up in her own exploration world. Stroking Hati''s fur she wondered how deeply all this would cut if she''d been more present. As it is she feels a curious detachment. Ceri''s eyes pleaded silently for support. The room buzzed with uncertainty. Taking a deep breath Lethanda stepped forward. "Everyone listen." All eyes turned to her. "We have two paths ahead. Ceri is an incredible leader¡ªI stand by her wholeheartedly. But leadership only works if we''re willing to follow. And that requires a shared vision." She locked eyes with Arcanis. "I get the allure of the endgame. Trust me. I do. But what makes this guild special isn''t just the race to the top¡ªit''s how we treat each other along the way." A few nods. She pressed on. "Ceri''s laid out a path that emphasizes both progress and camaraderie. I''m choosing to follow that path." Ceri''s face softened. Gratitude shining through. But Lethanda could see the fear lingering¡ªthe worry that the guild might fracture regardless. * Darkness enveloped the loft. Pierced only by the faint glow of city lights filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Snow drifted lazily outside. Silent against the backdrop of the urban sprawl. "I can''t move," Peril murmured, her voice muffled slightly under the bed covers they both were snuggled under. She added with a soft giggle, "I''m so exhausted." Lucy nestled closer. Her movements almost imperceptible as she wrapped an arm around Peril''s waist. "I thought massages were supposed to be relaxing," she whispered, a smile playing on her lips. Peril let out a contented sigh. "Apparently not when you''re involved." A comfortable silence settled between them. Lucy pressed a gentle kiss to the back of Peril''s neck. Her lips barely grazing the skin. Peril gazed out at the snowflakes spiralling downward. "I think I''ve found my happy place again," she said quietly. "Glad to hear it," Lucy replied. Peril shifted slightly. "I''m going to have to start stretching more. Everything aches. How can something so fun be so... exhausting?" Lucy chuckled. "Occupational hazard." "Is that what it is?" Peril teased. "Could be." Lucy considers the thin warm form in her arms, ¡°I¡¯m just happy you were able to keep eating well.¡± Peril turned her head slightly. Catching a glimpse of Lucy''s serene expression. "They made me eat," she admitted. "I''m terrible about that anyway. But they forced me to have my meals on time." "I''m just happy you were taking care of yourself," Lucy said softly. Peril felt the warmth of another kiss on her neck. "Thank you for not giving up on me," she whispered. "I''ve lost girlfriends before when... when that happens. Some people just don''t know what to do." Lucy tightened her embrace. "I love you," she whispered. Peril smiled. "I love you too." Minutes passed. The rhythm of their breathing syncing. The muffled sounds of the city below served as a distant lullaby. "At least you didn''t leave me for your online lover," Peril said suddenly, a playful tone in her voice. Lucy laughed. "Tempting as that might be." Peril nudged her gently. "Tell me more about this guild drama. It sounds like something I can live vicariously through." Lucy sighed. "I''m genuinely worried about Ceri. Calling for a vote was a good move, but the guild''s effectively split now. Those who lose the vote might just leave out of frustration." "How does this affect you ¨C Lethanda, my noble ranger?" Peril giggled. "I''ve got friends on both sides," Lucy replied. "People I care about. I''m one of the leading players about to hit level 80. The new zones look incredible. Hati and I still have so much to explore." "As long as Ceri, Kurgrim and Piopei are around I''m happy." "And Arcanis?" Peril''s voice took on a mock horror tone; "The splitter!" Lucy shook her head. "Ceri will never forgive him if the guild fractures. Our direct messages are full of her venting about him. She''s blaming it all on him." "Is that fair?" "Not entirely," Lucy admitted. "He''s expressing what a lot of us feel. We all want to reach the endgame. Hit that mythical level 80." "So you can''t fault him." "Exactly. I''d still team up with him if the guild splits. Things change. Evolve. Our guild did too. I think Ceri holds certain values and can''t see that change is sometimes necessary¡ªeven normal." Peril was quiet for a moment. "That wasn''t just about Ceri was it?" Lucy hesitated. "No it wasn''t. I''ve been thinking about the choices I''ve made with Aurum. How far I''ve come since that first meeting. I can''t criticise Ceri for resisting change without acknowledging my own transformation." "Are you ready for it?" Peril asked softly. "Really ready to step into the shadows?" "Not right now," Lucy replied. "I have a month to come to terms with it." She gave a light laugh. "Sometimes I feel like I should take my moral compass outside and bury it. Hold some kind of ceremony." Peril turned slightly to face her. "No, you shouldn''t. The things we hold onto are important. Ceri''s view of the guild is rooted in her values. She might rebuild it. Make better choices. Clarify those values better with her new guildmates and followers." "Little miss insightful," Lucy teased. Peril shrugged a faint blush colouring her cheeks. "Values are... they''re the core reasons why we do things. You shouldn''t discard them just to pay your rent. Even in darkness you must kindle light." Lucy pressed her forehead against Peril''s shoulder. "You''re a romantic." "Maybe," Peril conceded, then snuggled in more. Silence settled again. Lucy''s mind drifted back to her first kill. The desperate choices that led her down this path. Aurum''s words echoed: "You''re Street." He wasn''t wrong. There were realities Peril couldn''t fully grasp¡ª a choice between selling your body for money, or being a bounty hunter. All because the rent bill is due. She loved Peril deeply. But some things were hard to explain to bridge the gap between their worlds. Values, Lucy thought, as she pushed touched her lips to the back of Peril¡¯s thin neck. She couldn¡¯t stop it coming to her again. Peril¡¯s hands were drenched in blood, while she spoke of values. The small woman in her arms might not be capable of even lifting Lioncourt¡¯s heavily suppressed gun. But she directed it. The instigator, the selector of targets. If Lioncourt was simply a weapon. Peril was the one pulling the trigger. She tried not to think of it. It was hard. Compartmentalisation. The word came unbidden to her. Peril had used it earlier, yes, a word from her Marine training about operational security. But word was also used in her relationship learnsoft. Others came to her too; cognitive dissonance, moral disengagement, more. The relationship vocabulary flowed over her with definitions as well. Authors cited. Peril started gently snoring in her arms; utterly spent. She¡¯d not wanted answers. Peril had given her the chance to ask anything. Wilful ignorance; the word came unbidden. Was she actively avoiding a full confrontation with the truth as it might lead to a breakdown in their relationship? Because the answers to the questions might be too painful? Peril spoke of values, but Lucy was refusing to ask Peril what her values were. What has led her to direct a sociopathic mass murderer to hand out lethal vigilante justice across the city? To the criminal underworld? These were the questions that Peril had expected, Lucy realised. These were the ones she had been prepared for in the dinner talk. Lucy¡¯s concentration on relationship questions had been a surprise to her. Lucy slightly tightened her embrace of her lover in her arms. Smelt her freshly showered hair. Was Lucy now part of this. Was she even an ¡®enabler¡¯? Her acceptance, silence and lack of questions about the morality of Peril¡¯s actions could¡­ No, be honest Lucy, she thought. Would. Would be interpreted by her as emotional support and approval. Lucy went into her AI and contemplated completely deactivating the relationship learnsoft. She¡¯d start to forget it, like any skill, over time. It¡¯d stay for her for months. But all the knowledge would slowly fade ¨C eventually - if unused. It was still one of the few learnsofts she¡¯d intended on leaving in ¡®latent mode¡¯ after she¡¯d uploaded the electronic security expert-level learnsoft tomorrow. Would turning it off completely be the final sign of her active denial? Chapter 14 No rain tonight at least, Lucy thought. She whispered into her comms. "Thirty seconds till breach." She turned to the electronic lock, her fingers gliding over its surface with uncanny precision. From her bag of tech tricks, she selected the right tool¡ªa sleek device humming softly in her hand. The lock''s manufacturer was no mystery; their recon had provided the model, and she¡¯d quickly found the specs. It wouldn''t stand a chance. A pair of muffled pops echoed in her earpiece¡ªthe sixth and seventh of the night. Two more marks on her soul. "Twenty seconds," she murmured. This was their third data farm tonight. Three rapid surgical strikes. They''d spent a day planning them. Situated on the city''s edge. The data farm lay within a corporate zone patrolled by private security. The surrounding trees made the Emerald City''s nickname feel apt. Shadows stretching beneath their canopies. "Fifteen seconds." Earlier she''d disabled the cameras. Planting tiny devices in junction boxes down the road. The wired connections were silenced; no calls for help would get through. Wireless cells and more was blocked by another tech wonder buzzing away. Her hands moved swiftly now. The heavy lock''s casing was open revealing a solid block of silicon¡ªno wires to cut these days. No matter. Her micro-probes didn''t need wires. Her bag was a collection of surprises. Part off-the-shelf modified. Part custom builds. She''d been busy this past month. "Five seconds." A faint footstep behind her. Lioncourt. If she heard him it was intentional¡ªa subtle assurance he was ready. "Two seconds." Seven new stains on her conscience. How many more tonight? "Breach," she whispered as the door clicked open. Lioncourt slipped past her in a blur. * She''d once thought Lioncourt was a beast¡ªa spree killer without strategy or design. Lucy wasn''t sure if knowing he was a brilliant operational planner was any better. They moved swiftly through the facility. Lucy held her silenced handgun at the ready. Her bag of tricks heavy on her shoulder. She tried not to think. Lioncourt vanished ahead. Melting into shadows in a way that would have made Ceri proud. She set to work on her first target: a junction box that controlled internal cameras and alarms. They''d scrounged up old blueprints from a subcontractor''s archives¡ªthe place''s original builders. More intel thanks to Peril''s hacking no doubt. Their objectives were educated guesses. But they were confident. MNA wasn''t a black ops outfit. Security guards yes. But mainly a high-end data and electronics company¡ªcomputers hardware, comms, the inside guts of so many devices. Lucy dismantled the junction box with precise movements. Wires and circuits spilled out like entrails. No time to linger; she was on the clock. Through a door she entered the server farm. Cold air hit her like a wave. A technician stood before her. He hadn''t noticed her. He was engrossed. Silicon parts spread out as he methodically tested components. Oblivious. She didn''t hesitate. They''d covered this in planning. Every possible encounter. Anticipated. They had five minutes total to grab what they needed. Aiming to be gone in four. If they took six or more they were probably dead. The technician never knew what hit him. He died with hardly a sound. Don''t think. Stick to the plan. Don¡¯t replay it in her head. Time for that later. She moved deeper into the maze of servers heading to a row she''d memorized. A soft whisper came over the comms. "C''¨¦tait lui ou nous, mademoiselle." She cursed under her breath. A psychotic sociopath was trying to comfort her. Reaching the designated server she jammed in two security-disabling devices. Seconds later she began extracting plates of silicon. No time for data transfers. No hacking encryption¡ªthey were taking the hardware itself. This was a deep-backup facility. Research. Blueprints. Her bag filled quickly. Twenty plates. Exabytes of commercial data. Another call crackled in her ear. "Security team. As Scenario B. North. Get to exit." All business. No flair now. Scenario B North. More of Lioncourt''s meticulous planning. She sealed her bag and started back the way she''d come. Her breath puffed white in the cold air. Hitting three data farms in an hour was genius but the second and third hits always risked running into heightened security. Scenario B meant a security team had just landed on the north side¡ªthe landing pad. Ten men by Lioncourt''s estimation. He didn''t think much of MNA''s security. ¡®Mooks¡¯, he''d called them. Their breach point was on the south. Opposite the landing pad¡ªanticipating the most likely response. She reached the door they''d entered. No time to pause. A distant clang of metal echoed behind her. Not her concern. Not her role. In the shadows you did your job and completed the mission. She slipped through the hole they''d cut in the disabled fence moving into the treeline. The woods welcomed her. Lethanda would be proud. Though Lethanda wouldn''t have left a guildmate behind. A two-minute trek. They''d mapped the path with a drone yesterday. Her internal compass marked every tree every turn. The cybermod leading perfectly, as if it was a footpath. She hadn''t abandoned Lioncourt to the security team she told herself. She''d left them to face a relentless killer. He''d be fine.This was their fourth job together in the past month. Her tenth since fully stepping into the shadows. Each job reinforced her view: he was a monster. A killer without mercy. When Lioncourt was on the team. Bodies dropped. She reached the waiting bike. A skill from a recent learnsoft. No mighty feline mount but the synthetic-fueled machine between her legs was becoming a new love. The rumble. The roar. Lioncourt''s bike stood nearby¡ªa powerful electric model. French-made of course. He chose it for silence. She checked the comms. No messages. Rendezvous Point C it was. She''d wait five minutes. If he didn''t show, she''d assume he was dead. Unlikely, she thought. It would take another monster to kill him. MNA had sent mere men. * The warehouse district was a maze of shadow and rust. A place where the city''s refuse collected like driftwood against a pier. Burning barrels dotted the corners. Casting flickering light on the hunched figures. Homeless seeking warmth against the biting cold. Lucy stood beside her powerful racing bike. The machine''s sleek lines a stark contrast to the decay around her. A silenced pistol rested casually in her hand. Its matte black surface absorbing the meagre light. She waited. Eyes scanning the darkness with calm detachment. A group of gangers sauntered down the street. Their movements loose but eyes sharp. They looked ready to spill blood. But the night was young; easier prey would come later. Drunk and careless. They spotted her¡ªsolitary figure, expensive bike. A bag slung over the rear. A tempting target. But the open pistol in her hand and the steady unflinching gaze she returned made them think twice. After a tense moment they moved on. Fading into the labyrinth of alleys. Less than a year ago she would''ve been the one looking away. Maybe even running. Lucy recalled an alley much like this the acrid taste of vomit in her mouth as she grappled with the reality of pulling the trigger on a convicted murderer. Her first bounty. Back then the weight of the gun had felt immense. Tonight she''d killed a technician¡ªsomeone just doing his job. Eliminated. Because the mission demanded it. Because he might have compromised them. Not even a certainty. Just a possibility. The expert electronic security learnsoft Lucy had uploaded hadn''t been just tech schematics and code. It was a complete package designed for a black ops tech specialist operating in the shadows. Mental conditioning. Psychological resilience. All bundled into the data that now resided in her mind. She almost shuddered at the implications. Somewhere out there was a corporation so vast. So paranoid. They mass-produced operatives with her training package. People equipped with cutting-edge cyber learning tech¡ªtech that cost a fortune¡ªand they had the resources to develop sophisticated learnsofts to mould their minds as well as their tech skills. How many others were out there? Seamlessly programmed to perform tasks like her? Trained to act without hesitation. Without doubt. She''d read the curriculum manifest before the upload. But hadn''t grasped the depth of it. The notion that a learnsoft could alter her psyche seemed absurd at the time. Stress Inoculation Training, Cognitive Restructuring Preparation¡ªit all sounded clinical. Distant. She¡¯d grown used to gaining skills effortlessly. They felt like hitting a talent tree button as Lethanda. Levelling up without the grind. Instant knowledge and skills. Like how to ride a high-end sports bike. She hadn''t considered how psychophysiological training embedded in the data might affect her. Lucy grimaced. The fact that word was even in her vocabulary now was a sign of the depth of her error. Techniques like tactical breathing and biofeedback training had seemed like bonuses. Resilience programs focusing on emotional regulation and mental toughness sounded useful. Even practical. But did learning a skill change who you were at your core? She grappled with the thought. Stress and emotional regulation training didn''t pull the trigger. But did it make it easier? Compartmentalisation was another aspect she''d underestimated. Lucy should have read further. She¡¯d in retrospect even expected that her Learning AI might be able to skip aspects of that due to her previous exposure. The learnsoft had taken it far beyond what her Marine basic training had covered. Conditioning to accept and justify ethically questionable actions¡ªit was there in the fine print: Designed to enhance performance in morally ambiguous environments. A mistake. A big one. Lucy admitted that now. She should''ve read more closely. Questioned more deeply. But she had made choices. Intentional ones. After her encounter with Mr. Grimes - fear management training had seemed essential. The description of the learnsoft having embedded in it survival, evasion, resistance, and escape training programs which emphasised control over the ¡®fear cascade¡¯ had even sounded ideal. Lucy had remembered being terrified when captured. Why not have some training to be more mentally tough, she¡¯d thought, perhaps too naively.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. But. Could simply learning these things change who she was? Lucy was starting to strongly suspect yes. Absolutely yes. Her emotional transformation. Her ability to effortlessly pull that trigger. At four minutes and forty-five seconds past the rendezvous time Lioncourt''s bike glided around the corner. The electric hum barely audible. He pulled up beside her with effortless grace. His movements smooth and composed. Lucy cursed. He''d probably been waiting nearby. Timing his entrance for effect. "Bonsoir, mademoiselle," he greeted with a charming smile. "A lovely evening for a ride, non?" "Cutting it close," she replied, her tone neutral. He shrugged elegantly. "Fashionably late, as they say." His accent was thicker tonight. Each word dipped in French flair. She noticed the slight tear in his armoured jacket. The fresh scratches where bullets had glanced off. Two impacts over his chest¡ªhe should be feeling those. "You got hit," she observed. He glanced down casually. " Ah, rien de grave. Nothing serious. Merely scratches. The MNA security - they lack finesse." Lucy recalled how much her bullet hit had hurt even with armour. The bruising. The aches. Yet he showed no sign of discomfort. She wondered how much of him was still flesh and blood. He eyed the bag on her bike. "A present for me? Il ne fallait pas," he said. Eyes gleaming. She handed it over. "As requested." He accepted it with exaggerated gratitude. "Vous ¨ºtes trop aimable. Your efficiency is most impressive." He gave a slight bow. "You are becoming quite the professional." "Just doing the job," she replied. He leaned in conspiratorially. "A quick and adept pupil¡ªyou make me proud. Chaque bon ¨¦l¨¨ve m¨¦rite des ¨¦loges de temps en temps, jeune fille." Lucy sensed he saw himself as a mentor. A guiding hand. Crafting a narrative where he was the wise teacher and she the eager student. But all she could think about were the bodies he''d likely left behind tonight. Security guards doing their jobs. People with families waiting at home. Lives ended without a second thought. Her mind threatened to spiral. But she clamped down on the thoughts. Focused on her breathing. Maintaining her facade. Lioncourt seemed utterly at ease. His demeanour light. "The sky is clear tonight," he mused, glancing upward. "A rare beauty in this part of town." Lucy forced a nod. "I suppose." He turned back to her. "So will you still be taking Peril out dancing this weekend? Est-ce que mes deux tourterelles de ma vie vont sortir jouer aujourd''hui?" She managed to force a small smile. "That''s the plan." His eyes lit up. "Excellent! Perhaps I could join you both? It has been too long since we''ve shared an evening of music and laughter." "We''d love that," Lucy said, surprising herself with the realisation that it was also true. Lucy looked at him¡ªthis charming dangerous man. He wasn''t an enemy. He''d saved her life. Been unfailingly kind to her and Peril. If anything, he was lonely. She recognized the complexity. He was a friend¡ªa lethal, enigmatic friend¡ªbut a friend nonetheless. And he cared in his own way. "Tr¨¨s bien!" he exclaimed. "It will be a night to remember." * The roar of celebrating guilds shook the massive mead hall. The sound rolling like thunder beneath the vaulted ceilings. Golden light from grand chandeliers bathed the room reflecting off polished wooden tables laden with feast and finery. The air was thick with the aroma of spiced meats. Honeyed breads. The rich scent of mulled mead. Lethanda smiled to herself feeling the warmth of the room seep into her very bones. Choosing this place for the server-wide RP event was truly inspired. The mead hall was usually a perilous end-game zone teeming with half-giant Norsemen and creatures of epic legend. Earlier a coalition of guilds had swept through. Clearing out the usual inhabitants with practiced ease. Rangers who had maxed out in their Ranger''s Sanctuary abilities had woven protective spells to prevent any respawns. Effectively turning the hall into a safe-zone. Lethanda admired the clever use of game mechanics to craft this temporary haven. A soft laugh drew her attention. A warm body cuddled into her side¡ªCeri eyes bright with mirth as she listened to Kurgrim recount his latest adventure. "So there we were," Kurgrim boomed his Dwarven accent thick and hearty. "Face-to-face with a dragon who had a liking for riddles. Instead of fighting - Piopei here starts a game of wits! A riddle guessing game - What¡¯s in my pocket?!" Piopei grinned mischievously. "And who knew dragons had such a terrible sense of humour when they lost?" The table erupted in laughter. Ceri wiped a tear from her eye. "I can''t believe that actually worked!" Arcanis smirked. "Unconventional tactics for an unconventional team." Lethanda chuckled feeling the camaraderie envelop her like a warm cloak. was what she cherished¡ªthe shared stories the laughter the sense of belonging. It was a stark contrast to her other life the one cloaked in shadows and silence. No friendships there. No celebrations. Just cold professionalism and the solitary walk home. She glanced around the table at Arcanis, Piopei, Ceri and Kurgrim. Here there was joy. A tiny part of her had hoped that in her mercenary world there might be an underground circle or bar where operatives exchanged tales and compared notes. But there was nothing of the kind. A romantic view perhaps of what mercenary work would entail. When a job was done they vanished like ghosts. Her gaze drifted over the grand hall. The celebration was in full swing. Tables groaned under the weight of feasting platters¡ªfood consumables and feast plates usually reserved to buff entire raid groups were scattered like confetti. The guild, Likeminded, was now the top guild of the server. They had invited the other top five guilds in the race to complete the final raid of the game. It was a generous gesture. Bringing competitors together in camaraderie. "To rivals and friends!" Bourgh, the Guildmaster of Likeminded called out from atop a sturdy table. His warrior avatar gleamed in full class-set epic gear. The armour etched with intricate runes. He raised his goblet high. "Without you pushing us, we might never have conquered the Twelfth Underworld Gate!" A cheer erupted from the crowd of over a hundred players. Lethanda lifted her own tankard. The sweet scent of cider filling her senses as she took a hearty swig. The crisp taste was invigorating. "We pushed them hard," Arcanis remarked, leaning back in his chair. "Speak for yourself," Piopei retorted. "Some of us had to carry the team." Kurgrim laughed. "If by ''carry'' you mean running away while we did the heavy lifting - then sure." Ceri snuggled closer to Lethanda. Her hand finding Lethanda''s beneath the table. Their relationship had been an open secret among the guild for months now. Accepted without fuss or fanfare. It was comforting. A silent affirmation in a world where acceptance wasn''t always guaranteed. "Lost in thought?" Ceri whispered. Lethanda smiled softly. "Just soaking it all in." "Careful you might drown," Ceri teased. She had found herself constantly grounding the deeply introspective ranger time and again. It had become a bit of a bit of a in-joke between them. Lethanda''s thoughts drifted almost immediately again. Her focus on exploration had taken her away from day-to-day guild matters. But she wasn''t an outsider. She attended every RP event she could. Participated in end-game raids. Still. The looming reality was that she''d explored nearly everything the game had to offer. Every hidden corner. Every secret quest. Hati, her forever-loyal companion had fought by her side through epic solo battles. But now there were no new horizons left. "The content''s running thin isn''t it?" Ceri said, reading her mind. Lethanda sighed. "Feels that way. Even my reputations are maxed or close to it." "Well the devs promised a new dungeon in three months," Piopei chimed in overhearing. "And rumours of a new expansion next year." "A year is a long time to wait," Lethanda replied. Arcanis leaned forward. "Maybe it''s time to take on new challenges. A warrior Alt perhaps? We could always do with another good guild tank." Kurgrim shook his head. "You know Lethanda prefers the thrill of discovery over the clash of swords." "True enough," Lethanda conceded. Ceri nudged her gently. "Try the banana loaf. It''s amazing." Lethanda took a slice. The aroma of baked bananas and spices wafting up. She bit into it. The flavours rich and comforting. "This is incredible." "See? Small joys," Ceri said with a wink. The hall buzzed with energy. Players loudly sharing stories of their conquests and mishaps. Lethanda watched as Bourgh raised his goblet once more. "Tonight, we celebrate not just victory but unity!" he declared. "Our realm stands strong the best in all of Gates of Baraadon!" Another thunderous cheer filled the room. Not entirely in-character Lethanda noted, but it was a rousing speech nonetheless. "Care to sneak away?" Ceri whispered. Lethanda raised an eyebrow. "Missing the party already?" "Just thought we could find somewhere quieter to talk." "Lead the way," Lethanda agreed. They slipped out of the mead hall the cool night air a gentle contrast to the warmth inside. Stars glittered overhead and the distant sound of a waterfall added a soothing backdrop. "Much better," Ceri sighed leaning against a tree. Lethanda joined her. "You wanted to talk?" Ceri hesitated. "I''ve¡­ something important I want you to know first, before anyone else.¡± "I''m here for you Ceri, you can tell me anything," Lethanda replied softly. Ceri started tentatively. "Well, there¡¯s no easy way to say this¡­ I¡¯m leaving the game Lethanda. I¡¯m not renewing my sub. I¡¯m sorry. It¡¯s due to IRL issues. I don¡¯t want to discuss those.¡± Her tone had turned resolute. ¡°But I¡¯m quitting the game. Completely. I thought you, of all people, deserved to be the very first to know.¡± * The night sky stretched above Lethanda. A tapestry woven with threads of silver and indigo. Stars shimmered like scattered diamonds. Their light casting a gentle glow over the rolling hills and whispering forests of the realm. The cool breeze carried the scent of wildflowers and distant rain caressing her skin like a lover''s touch. She closed her eyes for a moment letting the tranquillity wash over her grounding herself in the sensations. The soft rustle of leaves. The distant hoot of an owl. The warmth of Ceri''s presence beside her. But beneath the serene facade turmoil brewed. She opened her eyes stealing a glance at Ceri. The gnome stood quietly her usually vibrant eyes reflecting a subdued light. Lethanda''s heart tightened a knot forming in her stomach. Words eluded her tangled and heavy on her tongue. Finally she managed to choke out, "How long?" Ceri''s gaze met hers a mixture of sorrow and resignation. "My sub ends in three days'' time," she replied softly. Lethanda felt a surge of panic rise within her threatening to overwhelm the fragile calm she''d tried to maintain. Her training kicked in¡ªa desperate attempt to steady herself. Focus on the breath. Inhale exhale. Find an anchor point. The rough texture of the bark beneath her fingertips the cool metal of her bow slung across her back. But the irony wasn''t lost on her¡ªgrounding herself in a virtual world seeking solace in sensations coded and pixelated. A bitter laugh escaped her lips before she could stop it. She turned to face Ceri fully struggling to keep her voice even. "You don''t want me to discuss real-life things. I get that," she began. "But it makes it really hard to talk about... this." Ceri nodded slowly. "I know," she admitted. "But it is what it is." A flash of frustration flared in Lethanda''s chest. How could she just accept this? Drop a bombshell and then erect walls that prevented any real discussion? Her mind raced. Was it money? She''d come into more money than she knew what to do with recently¡ªmore than she ever thought possible. Ten black ops jobs in a month had left her coffers overflowing. No wonder Lioncourt drove a Ferrari. Her own high-end racing bike had been covered by a single paycheck. She could easily pay for Ceri''s subscription. Is this how Peril feels when she looks at me? Lethanda wondered. The helplessness of watching someone struggle. Knowing you could fix it with a flick of your wrist. A swipe of a card. Her voice barely above a whisper she said, "I''m drowning here Ceri. I don''t know what to say." She couldn''t meet Ceri''s eyes. If she did she feared she''d shatter completely. Ceri reached out squeezing her hand gently. "I know," she said. "I''m so sorry. But it''s been amazing." A small smile touched her lips. "You''ve been amazing. The guild has been too." "I''ve thought about the timing of this a lot over the past month," Ceri continued. "I thought it best to tell everyone just a few days before. To make it a quick break. Let people move on." "It hurts. It really hurts," Lethanda confessed her voice trembling. "Did I do something wrong?" Ceri''s eyes softened. "No. No Lethanda. If I could do this another way I would. If I didn''t have to leave I wouldn''t. Please understand¡ªthis is about me. Not you. Not the game. Not the guild." Lethanda opened her mouth. Questions about Ceri''s real-life hovering on the tip of her tongue. But she bit them back. Ceri didn''t want that. "It''s okay to be upset," Ceri said softly, offering a sympathetic smile. "I am too." The dam broke. Tears welled up spilling down Lethanda''s cheeks. The silent crying gave way to sobs that wracked her body. Each one tearing through her like a storm. She sank to her knees. Arms wrapping around the small gnome as she clung to her. Ceri held her, patting her back gently. "Shh¡­ it''s alright," she murmured. The world around them faded¡ªthe distant laughter from the mead hall. The rustling of nocturnal creatures the soft glow of the moon. All that remained was the raw ache in Lethanda''s chest and the warmth of Ceri''s embrace. Minutes passed or perhaps hours; time felt meaningless. Eventually Lethanda''s sobs subsided into quiet sniffles. She pulled back wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "I''m sorry," she whispered, emotionally spent. "Don''t be," Ceri replied. "Feelings aren''t something to apologize for." Lethanda took a shaky breath. "I just... I don''t know how to let go." Ceri smiled sadly. "You don''t have to. We''ll always have the memories. The adventures. The laughs the... everything." Chapter 15 Peril was drunk, Lucy realized¡ªa rarity in itself. Peril seldom drank but tonight at EchoChamber she was happily emptying champagne flutes. They were scattered across the table. Two glasses usually tipped the scales for the 90-pound stick-thin woman. Tonight she was on her fourth. Leaning over the rail Lucy held her own glass. Watching the dancers below. The bass throbbed softly as always. Lights slicing through the darkness. They''d danced for hours. Hard and free. A sheen of sweat glistened on their skin catching the strobe lights. EchoChamber yet again. Lucy suspected Peril chose it more for its private AV hovercar pad than the music. Security dictated much of Peril''s life. She recalled their first night together. After the invitation for coffee at Peril''s place they''d ascended to a private hovercar pad on the roof. A matt-black heavy hovercar¡ªmore like a van¡ªmeeting them. Hovercars were absurdly expensive. Peril''s was heavily armoured. Top-tier. Months with Peril had shown Lucy this was standard. Peril lived in her loft behind inches-thick glass that could stop a tank-round. She travelled to nightclubs in comfort yet encased in fortified steel. And even here Lioncourt hovered. He wasn''t drinking, she noted. Mingling in the private booths. Playing the French fop. But Lucy knew better. He was never more than ten feet from Peril. Always ready to pounce. Bodyguard. He''d politely asked to join them¡ªa ruse. He was on duty. Even when they danced he watched from the railing above. Poised to intervene. Peril¡¯s words were not yet slurred, but clearly giddy. "Come on, my love," she said. "Stop brooding. We''re celebrating here." Lioncourt''s friends surrounded them¡ªpolite but charmless. Probably vetted to be in this private booth. Lioncourt made them seem like old pals. Another fa?ade. Lucy forced a smile. "I''m just happy you''re happy," she lied smoothly. Peril gave a wistful smile. "You''ve done so much. Don''t you know the success we''ve had today? It''s a huge win thanks to you and the old man." Lucy shook her head. She had no idea what Peril was talking about. Not sure she wanted to ask. But Peril was insistent. She hugged Lucy tightly. "My heroes," she murmured, drunk and probably oversharing. "MNA is hammered because of you," Peril whispered. Lucy didn''t follow business news. "I stick to local stories," she said. All she''d heard about MNA today was a massive round of local layoffs. Peril seemed eager to spill. Drunk, her filters were down. She wanted to tell Lucy everything. "Their research and blueprints are everywhere now," she whispered. "Thirty years of data given to everyone. Everywhere. Company''s shares crashed forty percent." "So that''s what it''s about," Lucy whispered back. "You''re some kind of anti-corporate anti-capitalist? Is that your cause?" Peril sniggered. "I''d be the worst anti-capitalist ever. I just made billions shorting MNA stock." Lucy blinked. Stunned. Finance wasn''t her forte but she got the gist. Peril had profited¡ªa lot. She thought of the technician she''d killed. Probably had a family waiting. The security guards Lioncourt eliminated. All for what? So Peril could get richer? She managed a hoarse whisper. "What will you do with those billions?" Did she want to know? She¡¯d avoided these questions. Peril sipped more champagne. "Clinics for the homeless. Funds for rebuilding projects. Backing for a new mayor who will get police back on the streets. MNA finished. MNA shouldn''t have existed. They bought their way through anti-trust laws. My friends in D.C. will make sure they''re broken up." "This was a win," she whispered. Lucy weighed her words. Thousands losing jobs. Bodies left behind. For an anti-trust corporate breakup? She shook her head once again. Forced another smile. "I''ll stick to local news. Leave the business stuff to you." Peril looked disappointed. Drunk, she didn''t catch the undercurrent. "I''ll get you a business and finance learnsoft," she said. "Get you a college ed. Then you''ll understand better." Across on the table nearby Lucy noticed Lioncourt flinch. Her chest tightened. Is that how Peril saw her? Someone to upgrade as needed? She knew Peril had attended the best schools. She''d never let their education differences matter. She forced a nod. ¡°Maybe that''s a good idea,¡± she lied. Walking back to the rail she gazed at the undulating crowd below. The dancers moved, lost in their various individual rhythms as the cascade of lights melded from yellow to purple with spots of blue. She needed air. Not the recycled air of the club. Space¡ªfrom this relationship. From Peril. A little time away. Lioncourt appeared beside her. "She''s drunk," he said gently. ¡°Elle ne le pensait pas.¡± She never understood how he could be so kind and so dangerous. ¡°I know, it¡¯s OK.¡± she lied. * Lucy''s bike roared north on the I-5. Engine throbbing beneath her. The city lights faded in her mirrors - swallowed by the dawn. Her orientation system pinged. A prompt to veer east onto I-90. She ignored it. City girl or not, she wasn''t taking chances. Head to the border, she thought. Cross over. Safer. Much safer than the shorter I-90 route. She twisted the throttle. Enjoyed feeling the machine surge. The vibration coursed through her, a physical connection to the world slipping by. Images of Lethanda''s fearless giant panther mount flashed in her mind¡ªgraceful leaps, silent strides. The memory brought a faint smile. When Peril had woken after their night out, Lucy hadn''t wasted time. "I need Ceri''s real-world location," she''d said. Peril didn''t hesitate. Within moments the address appeared in Lucy''s neural link messages. She''d cracked it already. Lucy chose not to ask why or how long ago. Those are questions for people who want answers, she mused. All she needed was the address. "Thank you," she¡¯d said. "I''ll be gone a few days." By 6 am, she was slipping into the fading night, gathering gear for the trip. A quick message to Aurum: Ten jobs in a month¡ªneed a week off. His reply was swift: Enjoy yourself. Damn him. He could''ve at least pretended to be upset. The address was on the Canadian side of the Rockies¡ªa small town called Nelson, ten hours away. But Canada meant no guns. Lucy stopped at a 24/7 survival shop. Picked up a knife, essentials, a backpack. Without her twin H&Ks, she felt exposed. Even at early morning shopping. A basic wilderness survival learnsoft caught her eye. She downloaded it on the spot. Wish I had time for a high-end melee combat module, she¡¯d thought, fingering the knife''s hilt. First light broke. No point waiting. The predators were asleep. For once, the sky was clear¡ªa lightness in the air Lucy hadn''t felt in days. Pulling herself back. She grounded herself in the thunder of the synth-engine below her. Accelerated northward. Border soon, she reminded herself. Peril had assured her the fake ID would hold for basic checks. "Just a short holiday," she repeated out loud to herself, practicing for the border guards. "A break from the city." As a tech specialist, she knew better than to sneak weapons past Canadian border police. They had all the toys and were expecting tricks. Ten hours straight, her orientation system calculated. She planned to break it up. ¡®Hope¡¯. She noted. The name of a town where she''d stop after lunch. Fitting. Ironic. Ceri would love that, Lucy decided. The crisp morning air whipped around her. She moved with the bike, every motion fluid, instinctive. Yet, an unease lingered. She still felt oddly naked. Lucy missed the weight of the guns. Their reassuring presence. * She pulled into the roadside forest park. Engine ticking as it cooled. Silence settled in. Broken only by the rustle of leaves and distant bird calls. Swinging her leg over the bike, her thighs screamed in protest. City rides were twenty minutes tops. Her mind knew how to ride for hours; her body hadn''t caught up. Paying the dues now, Lucy thought. She stretched. Enhanced joints popping. The air was crisp. Carrying the scent of pine and damp earth. Green trees towered above. Their leaves whispering secrets to the wind. The park was immaculate¡ªgrass trimmed, paths clean. A family played near a camper van, children''s laughter slicing through the quiet. It felt like another world. "So this is what progressive forty percent tax rates on the richest gets you," Lucy mused, surprising herself. Random flashes of disdain had been bubbling up all morning. She tried to shake them off. Must be the learnsofts messing with my head, she considered. Maybe the GED. Probably the GED. The U.S. had spent decades painting Canada as some socialist wasteland where the government stole from the wealth creators. Anti-social mobility. Enemy of the American Dream. That''s what every kid was taught in High School. Lucy smirked at the idea, Funny, coming from me. She thought. A criminal tech specialist who won''t ever pay taxes again. The irony was almost laughable. Embedded learnsoft nation-hate. Amusing really. But the lack of guns. That was unsettling. Back home everyone would be armed. Mom and Dad tossing a ball would have holsters, maybe a shotgun nearby. She leaned against the bike before easing toward a picnic table. Her movements were fluid. Each step deliberate despite the soreness. Scanning the idyllic scene she felt a dissonance. Would her pistols make her feel safer? Did she even need them here? When did bearing arms become a necessity? Lucy thinks. Probably back in the 2060s, her GED knowledge whispered back.You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. Lucy unzipped her pack, pulling out a food bar from the wilderness shop. Unscrewed the flask and poured steaming coffee into the lid. The rich aroma mingled with the scent of cedar and pine. The kids were seven, maybe eight. Faces flushed, eyes bright. Their laughter was unguarded, free. The parents watched with easy smiles, relaxed in a way that seemed foreign. She sipped the coffee, feeling its warmth spread through her. They look... happy, she thought. Content. A breeze brushed her face, cool and gentle. The leaves above danced in patterns of light and shadow. She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the sounds wash over her¡ªthe giggles, the rustling branches, the distant hum of the road. It felt briefly like being online with Lethanda, walking through the Forest. Maybe this is normal, she pondered. A life without the weight of shadows. She wasn''t sure how to feel about that. Opening her eyes, she watched as the mother lifted the younger child. Spinning in a slow circle. The girl''s laughter rang out. Pure and unfiltered. Lucy took another sip. The bitterness of the coffee grounded her. "Enjoy it while it lasts," she told herself. Her gaze drifted to the horizon. Mountains met sky. The vastness was humbling. She felt small, yet oddly at peace. Lucy had to admit the views where stunning. Nature''s got a way of putting things in perspective, she thought. The ache in her muscles had dulled. She knew she''d have to get back on the road soon. Ten hours was a long haul, and Lucy was only barely a few hours in. But for now, she allowed herself this moment. No missions, no deadlines. Just the simplicity of a forest park. The innocence of children at play. The quiet strength of the wilderness surrounding her. She packed up her things, movements smooth and efficient. Glanced once more at the family, then back to her bike. "Time to go," she murmured. As she swung her leg over and started the engine, Lucy took a deep breath. Filling her lungs with the crisp air. Yes. Lethanda would like it here, she decided. * The warm pain in her thighs. Her backside. Her back¡ªit was all a constant. An inescapable reminder that her learnsoft system had definite limits. No amount of downloaded expertise could prepare her delicate areas for six hours hard riding on the powerful Kawasaki. Lucy was thankful for the small-town pharmacy. Cooling gels. Lotions. balms¡ªall now soothing her most chafed and sore areas. Some thin cooling packs wrapped in bandages to keep them in place. Who would''ve thought that a day on her bike could do such damage? Not her. Sure. It wasn''t a laid-back cruiser. But it was a civilian version of a racing machine with a decent seat. Yet here she was. Still four hours from her destination. Physically unable to continue. The roadside motel¡ªquaintly called an "inn"¡ªhad a bar attached. The thought of a cold beer had been appealing. "This is Lethanda''s scene. Not mine," she mused. Lucy wouldn''t be caught dead in a bar alone. Bars meant trouble. Men hitting on her as a lone girl. Expecting something. But Lethanda loved bars. She loved the smells¡ªthe wood. The fireplaces. The chatter. The confident Ranger would feel the grain of the table. Inhale the smoky air. Lucy sipped her beer wishing for the familiar weight of her H&Ks. At least the hotel had decent connectivity. She''d patched into her skill libraries and bought an expert-level martial arts learnsoft which had an emphasis on knife-fighting. Kali ¨C a sub-segment of the Arnis Filipino martial art ¨C had sprung out from the page as exactly what Lucy needed. Armed as she was with only the survival knife, in a country where her guns were off-limits. The full learnsoft would take four days to assimilate. Another two to layer in, especially for the full muscle memory. Fifteen hundred hours of real-time training compressed into less than a week to make her an Arnis black belt. Lucy had prioritised knife-fighting using her learning accelerator¡¯s AI, just letting the rest happen as it would. She wasn''t naive. She had some lean muscle now. But at barely 130 pounds no amount of virtual training would make her a heavyweight. But maybe she''d stand a chance to get a stab in before she was raped. Or worse. She distrusted statistics. This area of Canada supposedly had three murders per 100,000 people. Rain City had 130. Magnitudes worse. But everyone in the U.S. knew Canada lied about its crime rates. They had to be lying. An old-timer sitting nearby at the bar caught her eye. Pulling her from her thoughts. "Nice bike outside, that''s some serious Japanese muscle," he said, nodding toward the window. "Haven''t seen one like that in years." He¡¯d clearly noticed her outfit¡¯s luminous racing green colours matching the big motorbike. She shifted slightly. Muscles protesting. Considered leaving. But decided on one more beer. "Thanks," she replied. "Bit of a restoration project." He smiled. "Good to see someone appreciating the classics." She offered a tight smile back. Small talk wasn''t her strength but the bar was quiet. "Keeps me busy," she said. He glanced at her. "How''re you coping without being surrounded by guns?" he asked, eyes twinkling. "We''ve had a few Americans through lately. Seem on edge without their sidearms." He chuckled. "You can spot an American tourist by the way they keep patting their empty holsters." And the obvious accent, it went unsaid. She found herself laughing. "Mike," he introduced himself extending a hand. "Lethanda." "Pleasure Lethanda. Missing the familiar weight?" She nodded. "Feels strange. Can''t believe no-one''s carrying here." Mike leaned back on his stool. "I remember visiting the States back in the ''40s. Different time. Not everyone was armed then. Crime rates like you see now were only in hot-spot places like Mexico or South Africa at the time." "At least we have our low taxes," she ironically offered in return, raising her beer in a mock salute. He laughed. "This old-man¡¯s on a full state pension and a bit of savings. Taxes don''t bother me much." The evening wore on. The bar filled up slightly. Before she knew it she''d had two more beers chatting with Mike. Easy conversation. Unexpected. "I should call it a night," she said eventually. "Need a clear head tomorrow." "Safe travels," he nodded. "And watch out for those sore muscles." Lucy smiled. "Will do." The bar was still half-empty as she made her way out. Despite her mind and senses telling her she was safe - her unease lingered. Back in her rustic but pleasant enough room, Lucy eyed the flimsy door and frame. A far cry from her steel-reinforced setup at home. Anyone could burst through with minimal effort. Her learnsoft had cycled through some beginner knife-fighting moves thanks to AI prioritising. By morning she''d have another hundred hours of training under her belt. Her muscle memory would still be garbage though. She knew logically it was safer here. But years of living in a crime-ridden city of eight million people weren''t easy to shake. Lucy wedged a chair under the doorknob. Unsheathed her knife and placed it within reach. Six inches of carbon steel. Not much. But it would have to do. She lay back on the bed. Muscles and delicate areas still aching, but the various cooling gels and lotions having some effect. The sheets smelled of clean linen. A hint of lavender. From outside the sounds of the sleepy quiet town seeped in. The distant hum of a passing car. The rustle of leaves in the night breeze. Lucy closed her eyes. Tried to focus on her breathing. The cool air against her skin. The softness of the pillow. Sensations she rarely allowed herself to notice. "Just get through the night," she told herself. Lucy refused to admit to herself just how terrified she was. Sleep came slowly. But eventually it came. * The bike''s engine growled to a stop outside the unassuming bungalow. Mountains loomed behind forests stretching into the horizon. The air was crisp. Scented with pine and damp earth. It was beautiful, Lucy thought. No wonder Ceri was always happy. Living here. Her aches were less today. The strong painkillers helped. Still the four-hour ride left her stiff. She''d stretched before setting out¡ªher learnsoft AI recommended Arnis knife drills. She''d worked through them for an hour. Muscles moving with precise grace. "I''m trying to distract myself," she admitted, staring at the simple green door. "Trying to control the fear." She remembered her stress training. Began a breathing exercise. Eyes flicked around the front garden¡ªthe reds of the flowers. Greens of the leaves. The rough texture of the wooden porch. She counted the features back. After a few minutes her heart rate steadied. She summoned the courage. Walked up to the door. Knocked. Minutes passed. A thin frail voice crackled through a side intercom. "You don''t look like my home help," the woman said. A pause. "Oh my," the voice continued. "I know those features." Locks clicked. The door swung open. An elderly woman in a wheelchair faced her. An oxygen mask covering her face connected to a small tank by her side. "Lethanda," the woman said, voice muffled. "Lethanda, oh my dear. It really is you." She laughed softly. "I''m sure I''m not what you were expecting." Lucy noticed her eyes¡ªold cybernetics. Passable as human from afar but up close the only occasional blinking was unsettling. No-one that old should have eyes so bright. So alert. "Hello Ceri," Lucy said. "I''m not sure what to say. I apologise for coming to see you in person. I''m..." She trailed off. This was all unexpected. Ceri''s voice held a teasing tone. "What? Not expecting an eighty-four-year-old crone? Come in, come in." She wheeled around. Moving further into the house. Lucy hesitated. Go in or leave? She crossed the threshold. The air inside was warm. Filled with the scent of herbal tea and old wood. Sunlight filtered through lace curtains, casting intricate patterns on the floor. Ceri headed to the kitchen. Lucy noticed the house was designed for a wheelchair¡ªeverything low. Within reach. She realised Ceri was making tea at a small table. The ritual seemed deliberate. Measured. Lucy didn''t know what to say. She felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. Ceri regarded her with those young eyes. "You came looking for an answer to why I''d left. And expected something else?" she teased. Lucy finally found her voice. "My friend... she gave me a name¡ªMargaret Ceres¡ªand an address from your account details. But nothing else. I had no idea." "I should be asking about the utter violation of my privacy, or how your ''friend'' hacked into a secured account," Ceri said in a gentle tone. "But honestly I don''t really care." "There are a lot of things you stop worrying about," she added softly. "It''s impressive," Ceri continued. "Do you mean to rob me or harm me?" She looked up a hint of mischief in her eyes. "No!" Lucy replied horrified. Ceri nodded. "Then I''ll take this as misguided love and nothing else. Hell knows - after three marriages I know enough about matters of the heart." She laughed. "For goodness'' sake sit down Lethanda and drink some tea. It''ll help with the nerves and the shaking." Lucy realised her hands were trembling. She sat¡ªthe seat was lower than expected. Bringing her level with Ceri. The warmth of the teacup seeped into her fingers. "I''m sorry," Lucy began. "I shouldn''t have done this. You''re right. This is a total invasion of your privacy. It''s wrong. You have every right to send me away." A tear slipped down her cheek. "There, there Lethanda," Ceri said gently. "I''m sorry too. I wish I could have said more. It was abrupt. Me leaving. I know, and you were so invested." "I had no idea how capable you were outside the game," she added. Her voice was weak; she coughed but didn''t seem distressed. Lucy noticed how frail she looked in the chair. How thin. This was not a well woman. Ceri noticed Lucy''s gaze. "Don''t worry, I''m not in any pain," she said. "This is my fourth and final battle with the big C, and after the second I had the pain editor mod installed. Got sick of the awful feelings from the chemo back then." She continued, "Sadly, shutting off all pain. Biofeedback completely. It knocks out playing a deep-dive MMO." There was genuine regret in her voice. "I''m surprised," Lucy said. "You seem... well..." Her voice trailed off. "What? Older than you''d expected?" Ceri laughed, a sparkle in her eyes. "My dear, I''ve been a gamer since before you were born. You think old people aren''t gamers too? Trust me, we''re out there." Lucy wasn''t sure what to say. She sipped her tea; the warmth helped. "I''m so sorry. I''m not sure what to say. I feel so small. Stupid. I never imagined you''d have something like this going on," she finally managed weakly. Ceri seemed more upbeat. Her voice frail but light. "You were expecting some passionate twenty-something?" she teased. "Maybe even a hot hook-up in real life?" She laughed. Lucy looked horrified. "No, no, I just... I''m so stupid. I''m sorry. I''ll leave." "I was teasing," Ceri said. "I do that a lot. No. I''m sorry." She reached out a thin hand resting it on Lucy''s. Her skin was cool. Paper-thin. "I''m not dead yet," she said kindly. "But I am lonely today. Especially without Gates of Baraadon. So all I can offer is tea and conversation." She stared at Lucy, eyes piercing. "Can I ask you about the real Lethanda?" she asked. "Who was the woman behind the Elf Ranger I loved? You look so much like her. Surgery? I have questions too." Lucy felt a dam break within her. The air felt heavier. The sounds of the forest outside fading. She wanted to open up. "Yes," she began softly. The room seemed to hold its breath. The soft hum of Ceri''s oxygen machine was the only sound. "I underwent surgery," she admitted. "To become more like her. To feel... whole." It was a truth Lucy had never admitted. Even to herself before. The need to change how she¡¯d looked to avoid police detection had just provided a convenient excuse. She¡¯d wanted this. She gazed out the window¡ªthe trees swayed gently. Leaves rustling in the breeze. The scent of pine filled the room mingling with the aroma of tea. A bird chirped outside. A sharp note cutting through the silence. She took a deep breath. "I wasn''t always... this," she said, gesturing to herself. "I grew up in Rain City on the streets. It wasn''t easy." Ceri listened intently. Eyes never leaving her. Chapter 16 The heat was palpable a searing wave that threatened to blister skin and singe hair. Lethanda pressed herself against the cool stone of the outcropping feeling the rough texture scrape against her leather armour. The scent of sulphur filled the air mingling with the metallic tang of blood and the earthy aroma of churned soil. She could taste ash on her lips a bitter reminder of the dragon''s fury. Above, the dragon''s breath sliced through the sky for the fourth time a torrent of flame that turned the battlefield into a hellscape. Screams echoed around her¡ªnot of fear but of exertion and the raw edge of adrenaline. Warriors scrambled. Boots pounding against cracked earth seeking shelter wherever they could find it. She glanced sideways and caught sight of Kurgrim. The dwarf stood defiant. His feet planted firmly facing the beast head-on. Beads of sweat glistened on his brow evaporating almost instantly in the intense heat. Three healers focused their energies upon him threads of luminous magic weaving around his form. His armour shimmered. Bathed in hues of gold and silver while his axe and shield pulsed with power. Absolute legend, Lethanda thought. The sheer audacity of Kurgrim''s stand was breathtaking. It wasn''t just about his own prowess; it was a testament to the unspoken trust between him and the healers. On a hardcore realm this fight was ludicrously difficult. One lag spike from a healer, one momentary lapse, and half the guild could be wiped out. Not that ¡®wiped out¡¯ meant what it used to, she mused grimly. The introduction of premium accounts had changed everything. Players willing to pay for the privilege now held three resurrection tokens each month. It was a controversial shift - one that many argued undermined the very essence of the hardcore experience. Yet for leading-edge guilds like the Fellowship it had already saved them from ¡®guild-killer¡¯ wipes more than once in recent months. The dragon''s fiery assault subsided. Kurgrim stood amidst the settling dust his armour smoking a halo of steam rising around him. The ground trembled as the beast summoned ancient dragon spirits. Spectral forms emerging from the shadows. Lethanda felt the electric thrill coursing through her veins. Hati growled beside her, muscles tensed eyes fixed on the new threats. She sprang into action each movement fluid and precise. The bow felt alive in her hands the polished wood warm against her fingertips. She drew back. Feeling the tension in the string the slight give before release. Arrows flew slicing through the air with a whisper each one finding its mark with lethal accuracy. The spirits were un-tank-able. Their ethereal forms darting unpredictably. They targeted players at random¡ªa dangerous gambit if they reached a healer. One locked onto a druid who let out a startled yelp before dashing away in a frantic sprint. "Classic Benny Hill," someone chuckled nearby. Lethanda smirked. She''d never been one for ancient memes, but that one had endured still popping up in endless net vids even after all these years. "Focus fire on the spirits!" Arcanis Flameweaver''s voice rang out above the chaos. His commands were sharp decisive. The team responded in unison a symphony of magic and steel converging upon their foes. She had to admit Arcanis had grown into his role as raid leader. His limited screen time¡ªonly three hours a week¡ªhad kept him from ascending to guild leader after Ceri''s departure. But his leadership in battle was undeniable. Piopei had taken the mantle of Guildmaster. His calm demeanour and impartial nature making him ideal for navigating conflicts. Ceri would have loved this, Lethanda thought, a pang of sadness mingling with the thrill of battle. She envisioned the old gnome''s excited chatter her eyes alight with enthusiasm. They''d been video calling often these past weeks. Ceri was in hospice now. The weight of her illness pressing down yet her spirit remained unbroken. Lethanda knew that one day soon a nurse would answer instead. Bearing the news she dreaded. But for now, she fought. For Ceri. For the guild. For the sheer exhilaration of the moment. The dragon roared a deafening sound that reverberated through her bones. The defeated spirits crashed down dissolving into wisps of shadow. The final phase was upon them¡ªnot a straightforward burn, but a dance of precision and timing. Three rapid breaths would follow each requiring swift repositioning. "Stay sharp!" Arcanis warned. "Movement is key!" Lethanda felt the ground shift beneath her feet. As a Ranger agility was her ally. She moved with grace dodging the searing blasts with ease. Others struggled¡ªarmour-clad warriors weighed down by their own defences, mages caught mid-spell. Arrows flew from her bow in a relentless stream each shot a calculated strike. Magic flared around her¡ªblazing fireballs crackling lightning shadows that clawed at the dragon''s scaled hide. The air was alive with energy. The very atmosphere humming with the collective force of twenty-five determined souls. And then as suddenly as it began it was over. Silence settled. Broken only by the ragged breaths of mentally exhausted players. The dragon lay defeated, its colossal form sprawled across the battlefield. Lethanda surveyed the scene. Two were down¡ª''dead¡¯ in the game''s terms or at least forced to use their precious rez tokens. A small price for victory. Piopei stepped forward, his avatar''s robes billowing softly. "Well fought friends," he began his voice carrying a solemn weight. "Today we have written our names in the annals of legend." She tuned out the rest. Her attention drawn to the loot interface that flickered before her eyes. First came the main loot rolls. Anticipation hung heavy as items were distributed. Cheers erupted as guildmates received coveted pieces of gear. Lethanda smiled genuinely happy for them - though nothing came her way. Next were the bonus rolls¡ªrewards for completing additional quests and burning special items. More excitement. More congratulations. Still nothing for her. Then came the controversial rolls¡ªthe premium account holder personal rolls. Three extra chances at loot each week. A ¡®perk¡¯ that had stirred heated debates. ¡®Pay-to-win¡¯ some called it. The premium account was nearly double the normal subscription cost and with the introduction of the cash shop as well, many felt the integrity of the game was slipping badly. Promises from the developers rang hollow. The cash shop was supposed to be cosmetic only. Yet items like the respec ring¡ªa so-called cosmetic that allowed players to change specialisations between raid bosses¡ªhad become a must-have for serious guilds. Lethanda watched as her first two personal rolls yielded nothing. Her heart quickened. One chance left. The interface flashed. "Legendary item obtained: The Energy Bow of Venger¡¯s Demise." Her breath caught. Hank¡¯s Ranger Bow. For a moment she was stunned into silence. "Guys... I got it" she whispered. A chorus of voices exploded in her ear. "Congratulations!" "Unbelievable!" "That''s the rarest drop in the game!" She equipped the bow. Feeling its weight¡ªor rather the absence of it. It was deceptively simple in design. Resembling a low-level weapon. But the lack of a physical string hinted at its true power. She reached out fingers closing around thin air where the string should be. A bolt of lightning arced between the tips humming with raw energy. "Check this out," she said, a grin spreading across her face. She drew back and released. A surge of light shot forth illuminating the battlefield. She fired twice more each shot leaving vivid trails of electric yellow. The guild roared in approval. This wasn''t just a personal triumph¡ªit was a victory for them all. With this weapon their guild now boasted a Ranger wielding the most powerful bow in the game. "Looks like we''re unstoppable now," Arcanis laughed. Kurgrim clapped her on the back. "Well deserved lass." Lethanda''s heart swelled. Amidst the virtual world of pixels and code she felt the warmth of genuine camaraderie. "Thank you everyone," she said softly. Her thoughts drifted briefly to Ceri. She couldn''t wait to tell her to see the delight in her eyes. This would brighten her day. "Let''s take a group photo," Piopei suggested. They gathered around the fallen dragon avatars posing triumphantly. The air was filled with laughter and the buzz of shared accomplishment. As the shutter clicked capturing the moment Lethanda felt a surge of contentment. In this realm of fantasy and adventure amidst friends old and new she found a place where she belonged. The whispers of impending loss lingered at the edges of her mind but for now she pushed them aside. Tonight was a night of celebration. "To the Fellowship!" someone toasted. "To the Fellowship!" she echoed, lifting her new bow high. * They met at the bar again. Lucy figured she was back in Aurum''s good graces. The coffee shop was for his cold clinical meetings. The bar? That was where Aurum met people he was comfortable with. Still business¡ªdark as the city''s underbelly¡ªbut with a veneer of camaraderie. She''d been there an hour sipping a beer. Eyes occasionally drifting to the game on the holo-screen. Her fingers danced over a datapad twisting a security problem like a neo-classic Rubik''s Cube. Lucy¡¯s MnemoForge core AI had updated recently recommending "brainteasers" to boost memory retention. The AI-crafted wicked puzzles forcing her to unpick complexities using her own knowledge. It was fun. Surprisingly fun. Especially with the expert electronic security learnsoft ones¡ªit wasn''t just learned procedures; it was a mindset. An approach to tackling any security issue. She sensed Aurum before she saw him. His presence a shift in the atmosphere. He slid onto the stool beside her. Silently watching her work. The solution clicked in her mind; she tapped it in swiftly. A rumbling chuckle emanated from him. "That''s a new Tenosene surveillance cam isn''t it? Top-of-the-line. Just hit the security market last week." "Yep" Lucy replied, eyes still on the pad. "New model. Had to buy one from a grey market vendor. Tore it apart myself. No specs available yet." "Shit, Skadi," Aurum said, his voice tinged with genuine respect. "Never met someone so committed to self-improvement." He leaned back. A faint smile on his lips. "Which brings me to why we''re here. Got a few questions. Thought we''d chat friendly-like." Last few months had been a blur. Busy. Lucrative. Twenty jobs in three months¡ªa relentless pace. Frustrating too. She liked knowing the whole story. But the street didn''t care for narratives. She was a specialist: get in, do the job, get out. Her life was middle snapshots of other people''s tales. Never knowing how they began or ended. Aurum''s voice pulled her back. "Other Brokers are asking for your number Skadi. You''ve built quite a reputation. They want direct contact." She smirked. "Broker? Is that better than Fixer? Handler? Middleman? Wolf?" He chuckled. "Hell, sometimes I can''t keep up with the street-slang myself. Heard a guy call himself a ''Nexus'' last week. ''Plug'' was another one¡ªhad me thinking of butt-plugs." He laughed, a deep genuine sound. She allowed a small smile. "So, what''s the upside and downside?"Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. Aurum spread his hands. "Well, there''s a nice bonus for me passing along your contact. I''d split it with you." He named a number. She took a swig of her beer, eyebrows raised. "That much, just for my number?" "Word''s out that I''ve got a serious tech operator on-deck. After the Helsi job people took notice." She winced internally. The Helsi job had nearly gone sideways. She''d been hired to crack a high-end garage''s security for a team of car thieves targeting the new Helsi sports model. Mid-job one genius on the crew decided he''d get a better payout selling solo. Double-crossed his team by unloading a full Uzi Nine clip into them and tried to make a getaway. Unbeknownst to him, Lucy was still jacked into the car¡¯s system. She killed the car''s engine two hundred yards down the road then activated the auto-security measures. The car literally shocked him into submission. Retto, the crew leader had been grateful. Though almost heartbroken over the betrayal, the guy seemed to take one of his ¡®family¡¯ turning on him hard. She left that night with his number¡ªa potential ally in a world where those were rare. Aurum''s voice cut through her thoughts. "You saving Retto''s crew and salvaging the job made waves, the story got around." "Downsides?" she asked bluntly. He shrugged. "I vet my clients. Do background checks. Not every Fixer is as thorough. There''s risk. Not every job is clean. But if you''re aiming to elevate your shadow work - this is the path." He paused looking at her intently. "And, another risk. You''ve never said no to me before." She met his gaze. "You suggesting I start?" "Not to me," he grinned. "Little Miss Reliable can''t start refusing me now. But, hell Skadi, you¡¯re going to have to start getting picky.¡± She smirked. Maybe she did need to start asserting herself¡ªeven with Aurum. He continued "Being on these people''s speed dial means constant work. But with that comes exposure. Risk." "Maybe one day you''ll even be as essential as Terrance," he laughed, signalling the waitress for another round. She shook her head. The Terrance incident was a lesson in the city''s shadow network. An essential shadow tech wizard kidnapped by a chrome-junkie gang called Havok. They thought they could squeeze him for secrets. Maybe keep him as their personal cyber-doc. Seemingly half the city''s top mercs had descended like wrathful spirits tearing through Havok''s holdings. Hundreds dead in a single evening. Properties razed. By dawn Terrance was returned unharmed to his clinic and the gang was begging for mercy. The next morning she''d received a message from Terrance: 10% off all services, 50% off labour costs for loyal customers for the next fortnight. She accepted the fresh beer. Chuckling softly. The shadows ran deep. Connections she''d only glimpsed. Maybe it was time to dive deeper? Aurum broke her reverie. "One last thing. Some bounty hunters think they''ve got a lead on Lucy Kellaway. They''re hunting for a top-tier encryption cracker to help them out." She felt a knot tighten in her stomach. "Pay is terrible, far below your rates anyway," he continued. "Job''s been passed over by several people due to the low offer - but someone will bite eventually." She forced herself to stay composed. She''d severed all links between Lucy Kellaway and Skadi. All but one¡ªthe stolen VR headset from her robbed apartment. That had to be it. It was all that was left. She''d scrubbed every other trace. Even enlisted Peril''s help to erase key digital footprints. The headset was encrypted with Dynamic Algorithm Mutation Encryption. Constantly shifting algorithms based on data-specific triggers. Any cracking attempt would reset with each mutation. Only she knew the mutation triggers¡ªbased on Baraadon''s in-game weather cycle on the mountain peak she¡¯d picnicked with Ceri on many a time. Practically unbreakable without that key element. But. After knowing hackers like Peril. She wasn''t so sure. And there was always some hotshot eager to make a name. "I think I know what they have," she said quietly. "A VR headset. Highly encrypted, but still a vulnerability." Aurum nodded, unfazed. "Options?" she asked. He shrugged. "I could get their names and addresses by tomorrow. Pass it to Lioncourt. He''d retrieve the headset before dinner." Always an option. But too clean. Too easy. She shook her head. "No. This is my mess. Give me the address. I''ll take the job, but we¡¯ll leave it a few days for me to scope them out. Keep it quiet. I may need to handle it personally." Aurum looked at her with something akin to admiration. "Skadi cleans up her own messes. You''ve come a long way." He raised his glass. She clinked hers against it. "I''ll send you the details," he said. "Discreetly." She nodded. "Appreciate it." They sat in comfortable silence for a moment. The hum of the bar enveloped them¡ªlaughter clinking glasses muted conversations. She watched the condensation trail down her glass. Mind already strategising. "You''re sure about this?" Aurum asked. She met his gaze. "Positive." He smirked. "Then I won''t stand in your way. But remember¡ªdoors are opening. Just be careful which ones you walk through." "Always am," she said finishing her beer. As she stood to leave, he placed a hand on her arm. "Skadi?" "Yeah?" "Don''t forget¡ªyou can say no. Even to me." She gave a half-smile. "Noted." Walking out of the bar she moved with a fluid grace, each step deliberate. The city''s neon glow reflected off wet pavement casting distorted patterns around her. The cool night air carried a hint of rain. She pulled up her collar melding into the crowd. Time to clean up her mess. * Ceri''s face flickered on the vid screen. The pixels struggled to keep up with the connection. Her voice came through halting and breathless. "You''re romanticising everything again, Lethanda." Lucy noted the pallor in Ceri''s cheeks. The way her eyes seemed dimmer today. "Maybe I am," she admitted. "You''re searching for that shadow world," Ceri continued. "That camaraderie your guild has in the game. But you''re not going to find it in real life." There was no judgment. Just a soft cadence of concern. Ceri had become her anchor. The one beacon of truth in the storm. Their late-night vid chats were lifelines for them both. Lucy swallowed hard. "You''re right. I tend to get carried away." Ceri attempted a laugh. It came out a rasp. "You''ve even turned that Terrance incident into some ''shadow world looks after its own'' fairy tale. It''s not like that, Lethanda. It wasn''t Arcanis and Kurgrim rallying to help a guildmate. It was a pack of killers wiping out other killers to protect their secrets. You''re seeing what you want to see." "Am I?" Lucy leaned back, movements fluid, almost unconscious so. "I''ve been on the edges of crews, groups. Maybe there is a community out there." "Soppy romantic," Ceri chided gently. "Deep down you know I''m right." Lucy sighed, the room feeling colder. "Maybe." "You need to think about exit strategies," Ceri pressed. "How to get out, not dive deeper." It was a familiar refrain. Over the past month, they''d danced this dance. Lucy had money now¡ªa small fortune from twenty high-paying jobs in three months. Compared to a year ago, she was rich. Fake IDs, resources. She could vanish if she wanted. "And leave Peril behind?" Lucy shot back. Ceri''s eyes softened. "Peril''s an anchor, Lethanda. She''s keeping you tethered to this deadly world. She''s behind many of the ops you''re involved in. Yes, you love her, but can''t you see how toxic this is? Potentially lethal?" "Peril loves me," Lucy countered. "We''ve had honest conversations. Brutal ones. She understands me now." "Does she?" Ceri''s gaze was piercing. "We''ve set boundaries," Lucy explained. "Firewalls between parts of our lives. She respects that." "The last few months have been good," Lucy added. "Fulfilling. I feel... loved." "Absolutely," Ceri nodded slowly. "But at what cost?" Silence hung between them. Lucy traced a pattern on the table, fingers moving with uncanny grace. "Aurum sent me the info," she said, shifting gears. "Names and addresses of those trying to crack the headset. It''s the local gang who hit my apartment. They''ve realised what they have." Ceri''s expression tightened behind the transparent mask. "You said you weren''t going to pursue revenge." "It''s not about revenge anymore," Lucy replied. "It''s a threat now. They could expose me." "But the thought of killing them all is appealing, isn''t it?" Lucy looked away. The weight of Ceri''s words pressing down. "Yes," she whispered. "I still want revenge. I want to make them pay." "You could have someone else handle it," Ceri suggested, tone even. "Maybe," Lucy felt small, exposed. This was as painful as their last conversation. But necessary. Raw honesty she both craved and feared. "You''re too quick to romanticise," Ceri said softly. "You''re framing it as justice, but it''s still killing." "I know," Lucy admitted. "I''m... capable now. Violence is an option I didn''t consider before." "And if you go after them yourself?" Ceri pressed. "There are too many. You''d need serious upgrades." "Probably," Lucy conceded. "Is that the path I''m heading down?" Ceri let the question hang. She was patient, allowing Lucy to process. The hum of distant traffic buzzed faintly through the window. "You''re right," Lucy said finally. "And worse, I''m contemplating combat enhancements to do it." Ceri let out a low whistle. "Abhorrent¡ªthat''s the word you used once. You''re willing to dive into that world for this? Why not ask Lioncourt?" "It''s complicated," Lucy replied. "If I choose to¡­ eliminate them... it has to be me." "Why?" She hesitated, eyes glistening. "Maybe because it''s my mess. My responsibility." "When did murder become so casual?" Ceri''s voice was barely above a whisper. Lucy wiped at her eyes. "I don''t know." "There might be other options," she offered weakly. "If I can avoid killing, I will. But I need a fallback plan." Ceri looked at her with a mix of sadness and concern. "Lethanda, you''re spiralling deeper into the shadows. Not climbing out." "I can handle it," Lucy insisted. "Can you?" Silence again. The city lights outside flickered, casting patterns across the room. "Lethanda," Ceri''s voice broke slightly. "Please. Get on your bike and run. Leave the city. Don''t look back." "I can''t," Lucy said softly. "You can," Ceri implored. "You have the means. A chance at a new life." "What kind of life?" Lucy asked bitterly. "Alone? Always looking over my shoulder?" "A better one than this," Ceri countered. Lucy took a deep breath. "I appreciate your concern. Truly." "I care about you," Ceri said. "I don''t want to see you consumed by this world." "I''ll think about it," Lucy offered, knowing it wasn''t enough. "Promise me," Ceri pressed. "I promise to consider it," she replied. * Lucy moved through the Arnis knife routine in the centre of Peril''s loft. The morning light casting sharp angles across her bare skin. She''d pushed the sofas aside to create space, the open floor now her personal dojo. Each movement was precise, fluid¡ªmuscle memory and focus intertwining. Sweat traced lines down her back, a sheen that caught the soft glow of dawn. Peril sat at the coffee table, eyes never leaving Lucy. "The AccelSpire Mark 7 has excellent reviews," she said, scrolling through specs on her tablet. "You might only get your hands on the Mark 6 from Terrance, but it''s solid." "Check long-term effects," Lucy replied between measured breaths, her voice steady despite the exertion. She executed a rapid series of thrusts. "Reports mention lack of musculoskeletal reinforcement. Leads to muscle strain over time." Peril glanced up, her gaze lingering as Lucy transitioned into sit-ups. "SynapseNet-XR, then. Pricey, but might be worth it." Her voice had a distant quality, attention divided. "SynapseNet-XR is impressive," Lucy said, not missing a beat. She shifted to leg lifts, movements smooth and controlled. "Enhanced processing, predictive algorithms. Practically half a tactical AI embedded." "Exactly," Peril murmured, eyes following every motion. Lucy noted the tone, a subtle smile playing on her lips. She knew Peril well¡ªknew how to position herself just so, the angle of her body catching the light in ways that held her girlfriend''s attention. "Problem is, it''s cutting-edge. Too new. Out of reach for now." Peril sighed, tapping her fingers on the tablet. "So, ReflexArc-X it is." Her words floated across the room, tinged with a hint of resignation. "Not a bad option, all things considered." Lucy finished her routine, standing effortlessly. She reached for a towel, wiping down with deliberate care, each movement unhurried. Her eyes met Peril''s, a silent conversation passing between them. "Unless a SynapseNet-XR user drops dead tomorrow, ReflexArc-X is my best bet," Lucy said, draping the towel over her shoulder. She began to walk toward Peril, steps light, almost predatory. Peril''s breath caught slightly. "Will you be... different after this?" she asked softly. Lucy paused beside her, leaning in just enough. "Maybe a little," she whispered. "Does that worry you?" Peril shook her head slowly, eyes wide and unwavering. "Not at all." A smile touched Lucy''s lips. "Good." Peril reached out, fingertips brushing against Lucy''s arm. "You know," she said, a playful note returning to her voice, "I''m starting to think I''m the lucky one here." Lucy arched an eyebrow. "Starting to?" Peril laughed softly. "Fine. I know I am." Lucy leaned down, their faces close. "Glad we agree." Chapter 17 Terrance''s clinic looked the same ¡ª neon buzz, antiseptic tang ¡ª 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 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¡ªa 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¡ªsomething 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¡ªfast-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¡ªyou''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¡ªhis 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¡ªnot 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 ¡ª 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¡ªsmall calibre, cheap model. It wouldn''t penetrate her armoured coat and the form-fitting body armour beneath. She stepped in. Same corner caf¨¦ 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 ¡ª 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 ¡ª 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¡ªlayer 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¡ªnot 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¡ªReflexArc-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 ¡ª 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¡ªhis cybernetics more extensive, his experience deeper¡ªbut 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¡ªa 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 ¨¤ 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 ¡ª 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 ¡ª pro-wrestler types easily 280 pounds each ¡ª 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 ¡ª 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¡ªa 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 ¡ª 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¡ªa 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 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 a massive arm propelled by heavyweight boxer instincts. But to Lucy, he moved through molasses. She sidestepped, grabbing his wrist. Stepping in close ¡ª a risky move under normal circumstances ¡ª 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 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¡ªmany 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¡ªbut 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 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¡ªa 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 ¡ª 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 ¡ª 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 ¡ª 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¡ªa 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 o¨´." "Corporate strike," Lucy muttered. "Ruthless." Lioncourt nodded. "Maintenant, vous commencez ¨¤ 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 d¨¦s sont jet¨¦s." He seemed almost invigorated by the prospect. Chapter 18 Lucy stood over the mercenary''s body, the kitchen knife slick with his blood. The improvised weapon had done its job. Her eyes scanned his gear. Taking his gun would be an amateur mistake¡ªit had a bio-lock and might fry her if she tried. His body armour was three sizes too big. She spotted a knife on his hip. Jet-black Smith & Wesson Ka-Bar. The Marine training embedded in her approved. Never argue with the classics. Heavier than her Arnis knives, but just as deadly. Razor sharp. She glanced back at Peril down the hallway. They''d descended twenty stories in a mad rush, now in some open-plan offices. Lioncourt had reactivated his arm blades once they exited the club. All Lucy had found was a sharp bread knife in an office kitchenette¡ªprobably used by some corporate drone for sandwiches. Lioncourt was roaming ahead¡ª''recon¡¯, he called it. Playing with his food, more like. The bastard seemed to enjoy this. She couldn''t entirely blame him. Even armed, the merc she''d just taken down hadn''t stood a chance. She''d been on him at max speed before he realised, sinking her knife into five major arteries, finishing with a thrust under the chin. She messaged Peril on their encrypted backchannel. No need for sounds. Skadi: Clear. Move closer quietly. Peril: I''m so sorry, Lucy. Not the time for apologies. She needed to keep Peril focused. If Peril crashed now, Lucy would have to carry her, complicating everything. Truth was, Lucy needed a break too. Her systems were aching from constant use. She''d been pushing the subsystems into max recovery modes whenever possible. But her muscles throbbed. Her back especially. She''d be seeing Terrance about strained or torn muscles tomorrow if they lived. Skadi: This MNA again? They still hunting you? Peril: No. Unlikely. KuehneX-MaerFed Logistics. Lucy halted. K-x-MF where behind this? Skadi: What does a global logistics company want with you? Peril: You need to keep up with the news, my love. Their entire system got locked this morning in a massive ransomware attack. Completely shut out. Skadi: You? They''re after you for doing this? Peril sent an innocent emoji. Peril: Not me, actually. Brilliant job, but not mine. Peril: Anyway, not K-x-MF directly. They have insurance against this. Lloyds of London. Massive cyberattack insurance policy. Peril: The loss-adjusters there contacted me to unlock the K-x-MF systems. I told them no. Skadi: What did you say to make them this angry? Peril forwarded her response. Skadi: That''s an anatomically impressive suggestion. Lucy chuckled softly. A tightly planned abduction for Peril''s skills. Corporate forced recruitment wasn''t unheard of, but usually the stuff of bad vids. Skadi: Seems extreme just to get you to unlock the K-x-MF systems. Peril: They''re losing billions an hour. In six hours, markets open. They''ll have to report what''s happening. Tankers circling the Atlantic with no destinations. Logistics networks halted. Their shares will free-fall. Market chaos. Peril: It¡¯ll be one of the biggest insurance claims in corporate history if that happens. The loss-adjusters for the insurers will do almost anything to avoid that. They¡¯re not above using heavy-handed tactics. Skadi: Why not just pay the ransom? Peril: Not that simple. The hacker wants more than cash. Has an agenda. Ideologically motivated, you could say. Time to move. They needed to reach the east stairwell. The chat had refocused Peril; she seemed steadier now. The stairwell was plush¡ªsteel and glass. Not bad for whoever owned this floor. Looked like a law firm or similar. The lack of light would have made it impossible for the unaugmented, but her low-light vision picked out two figures approaching from below, SMGs leading. She motioned for Peril to hide under a table then took position to drop down on them. Her analysis modules showed both had combat reactionware¡ªslower than hers. She lacked whatever modules gave Lioncourt exact data on their speed. She''d need to ask him about that. Useful info. Terrance had warned her: "No more headware. No more space in that pretty head of yours." Other body cyberware was fine, but a Tactical AI probably counted as headware. Something to discuss when he looked at her latest muscle tears. Her left wrist was now adding itself to the list of aches. He''d probably suggest more synth-muscle replacements, more ligament nanofibers. It was a slippery slope. These systems could handle multiple activations, but the human body had limits. Briefly, she wondered if she was becoming a cyber-junkie. Chasing every edge. Would she end up like Lioncourt? She suspected there wasn''t much of the old man left. The moment arrived. She leapt over the railing, systems red-lining again, Ka-Bar in hand. * Lucy leaned against a concrete pillar in the dim parking garage, her breaths shallow and measured. Every movement sent a jolt of pain through her back. Her right shoulder screaming in silent agony. She recalled a moment during the chaos ¡ª a sharp twang ¡ª and everything below her right elbow had gone numb. Across the garage Lioncourt cradled Peril in his arms with effortless grace. The night''s ordeal had caught up with her; Peril had shut down completely amid the hail of bullets and flashing blades. Too much sensory overload, too real. She was locked inside herself now. Whoever expected her to salvage KuehneX-MaerFed Logistics before markets opened would be sorely disappointed. It would, by Lucy¡¯s estimation, take at least a day of calm before Peril could function again. They were deep beneath the building, surrounded by shadows and silence. Lioncourt''s so-called ¡®recon¡¯ had cleared out the strike team below, but he''d grown wary. "The SWAT team showed up," he¡¯d murmured, his eyes scanning the dark corners. "But they didn''t pursue the mercs inside." Lucy watched him, almost envious. Despite the dust, blood, and God-knows-what else covering him, he moved as if untouched by fatigue. "Ce n''est plus de la parano?a quand ils cherchent r¨¦ellement ¨¤ te nuire," he¡¯d said with a wry smile. "No chance of safety in reaching police lines, then?" she¡¯d asked, her voice taut. He¡¯d shook his head. "Non." Instead, an encrypted call to Aurum. They''d pulled up floor plans, schematics of the sub-basements. The building connected to two others, though officially they were separate. Lioncourt had a hunch. "Le m¨ºme constructeur," he noted. "At one point, the only thing separating the garages is about two feet of concrete." He led them to an unremarkable wall on the second sub-level. Without a word, he extended his massive arm blades and began to punch through. The sound was visceral¡ªmetal tearing into stone, relentless. Lucy watched, half in awe, half in weariness. Minutes later, a rough passage yawned before them. Only high-end cyberlimbs could have carved through so quickly, so relentlessly. She couldn''t help but wonder yet again how much of Lioncourt was still flesh. Now, they waited in the adjacent building''s sub-basement, the cold seeping in. An armoured car from Aurum was en route. Lioncourt glanced at her, breaking the heavy silence. "The implants," he began softly. "Don''t fret over them too much. C''est normal. With reactionware." She managed a tired smile. "Do I look that bad? Need a pep talk?" He raised an eyebrow. "S¨¦rieusement, I can see you''re exhausted. I''ve witnessed it many times ¡ª those muscles that will fail under strain go first. But replace them. ?a s''am¨¦liorera." She studied him. Concrete dust clung to his clothes, mingling with streaks of blood. Yet he didn''t seem winded. "Easy when you don''t have muscles to tear," she muttered. He chuckled lightly. "Advantages of modern upgrades. Je suis un t¨¦moignage vivant de la science." She felt a pang of guilt. Lioncourt was trying to comfort her, and here she was resenting him. He''d taken down most of the strike team himself. His instincts had likely saved them from walking into a trap. "My lady," he said gently, his eyes sincere. "Tonight, you''ve been a chevalier en armure ¨¦tincelante for your paramour. An old romantic like me can''t help but be impressed." Her HUD flashed an update from his Tactical AI: Extraction vehicle arriving in 120 seconds. "Thank you," she whispered, her gaze dropping to Peril''s peaceful face. "We can''t take her home," she said aloud. "Where do we go?" Lioncourt''s eyes twinkled. "Don''t you worry. Her apartment is secure ¡ª Pratiquement une forteresse. But no need to test our defences tonight. Nous avons un plan." Headlights sliced through the gloom as a black limo rolled into view. Long wheelbase, but not ostentatious. Heavy plating, judging by the way it moved ¡ª a tank masquerading as a car. In a city like this, it blended seamlessly. Lioncourt opened the door, carefully settling Peril inside. Lucy followed, her movements deliberate despite the pain. He addressed the driver smoothly. "Take us to the Aegis Paramount by Grand Astra. The presidential suite awaits." The driver nodded without a word. As they pulled away, the city''s neon glow washed over them. Lucy stared out the window, her reflection fragmented against the passing lights. "Rest," Lioncourt advised softly. "You''ll need it." She nodded, closing her eyes. The hum of the engine was a lullaby, the leather seat embracing her weary body. "Tonight was... intense," she murmured. "En effet," he agreed. "Mais nous avons r¨¦ussi ¨¤ surmonter cela. Tonight we played heroes. Sauver la princesse." She opened her eyes slightly. "Lioncourt, do you ever get tired?" He smiled faintly. "Pas comme je le faisais autrefois. But exhaustion comes in many forms." She considered that. "Peril will be okay?" "Oui. She just needs time." Silence settled between them. The city rushed by, oblivious to their struggles. "Thank you," she said again. He glanced at her, a hint of surprise. "For what?" "For everything. For getting us out." He shrugged modestly. "C''est ce que je fais.¡± She smirked. "Ever the gentleman." "Toujours. Always," he replied, his accent wrapping around the word like silk. * "I must say, I feel honoured, Lady Lethanda," the young ranger''s voice trembled slightly betraying her nerves. They walked side by side through the snow. The world around them hushed and pristine. "Young ranger," Lethanda breathed in the crisp mountain air. The scent of pine and distant fires filling her senses. The cold tingled on her skin, invigorating her. "Nothing could give me greater pleasure than guiding someone new to our realm and to ranger-ing on the first steps of their journey." Pakhet hesitated. Her gaze drifting to Lethanda''s formidable gear. Her eyes lingered on the simple bow slung across Lethanda''s back as if sensing its immense power. The armour bore the marks of battles against the deadliest monsters in the most treacherous lands.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. "I feel almost like a burden," she admitted softly. "For someone such as you. I''m blessed, truly, and grateful for your mentorship." Lethanda laughed lightly, scooping up a handful of snow and tossing it playfully at the back of Pakhet''s head. The snowflake''s cold touch melted against her fingers. "There," she said with a warm smile. "Let that break the mystery between us. I laugh; I love the chill of the air. I was once as you are now." She brushed a stray snowflake from her eyelashes. The delicate touch a gentle reminder of simpler times. "And no more of this ''Lady'' business," she continued. "I wouldn''t have agreed to guide a young ranger if I wanted airs and graces. I am Lethanda, and you are Pakhet. A noble name, to be sure ¡ª a huntress''s name." Pakhet''s cheeks flushed. "Thank you... Lethanda." "Now, young ranger, let''s go forth and strike a little justice into this world." She whistled softly and Hati, her mighty spirit wolf companion, emerged from the shadows, his fur glistening like silver under the starlight. He let out a howl into the crisp night sky. The sound echoing across the silent peaks. "What quest has your trainer set for you?" Lethanda asked, adjusting the strap of her quiver. The familiar weight comforting against her back. "I''m to kill twelve boars for the farmer folk, for the feast they have coming up," Pakhet said, toying nervously with her bowstring, clearly embarrassed by the simplicity of her task compared to Lethanda''s grandeur. "A fine and noble quest for a Ranger," Lethanda responded with genuine warmth. "Putting hearty food on people''s tables." A light snowfall began. Flakes drifting lazily from the sky. Lethanda caught one on her lips, its fleeting chill dissolving into warmth. They walked toward a field where docile boars grazed, their breaths visible in the cold air. Pakhet set about her task, her movements earnest but unrefined. She knew only a couple of types of shots, but the boars fell quickly under her arrows. Lethanda leaned against a frost-covered tree, watching. She''d forgotten how beautiful the night stars were from here ¡ª each one a pinprick of light piercing the velvet darkness. She snuggled closer to Hati, the warmth of his fur seeping into her. This had been a good choice, she decided. A return to the roots of what she loved of Baraadon. Unwanted thoughts surfaced. Battles fought, monsters slain. Guild drama. Friends lost. The weight of her armour wasn''t just physical; it carried memories she''d rather forget. Blood on her hands, the echo of dying breaths. She pushed the images away, focusing instead on the soft crunch of snow beneath her boots, the gentle whisper of the wind. "You''re doing well," she called out to Pakhet, her voice steady. "Thank you," Pakhet replied, a hint of pride shining through. Lethanda smiled softly, letting herself be enveloped by the simple beauty of the moment¡ªthe taste of winter on her tongue, the touch of the cold air on her face, the sight of a young ranger finding her path. * The troll cave loomed before them a gaping maw carved into the mountainside. It exhaled a chill that danced along their skin. The scent of damp earth mingled with something more pungent ¡ª a musky odour that clung to the back of the throat. Lethanda smiled softly, wrinkles forming at the bridge of her nose as she wrinkled it against the familiar stench. "Well, this place sure is one only a Troll could love," Pakhet quipped, her eyes flicking toward Lethanda with a mischievous glint. Lethanda chuckled lightly, the sound blending with the whisper of the wind through the pines. "Trolls aren''t known for their interior decorating skills." Pakhet had begun to shed her initial reservations. The formalities peeling away like bark from a tree. Lethanda appreciated this blossoming confidence; it was a sign that the young ranger was finding her own footing. "Do you think they charge an admission fee?" Pakhet added, twirling an arrow between her fingers. "I''d hate to be rude guests." "Only if you consider not becoming their dinner rude," Lethanda replied, her eyes sparkling. Now was the time for a bit of guidance, Lethanda thought. Let''s not make the same mistakes I did here. "Let''s hold for a moment, Pakhet," she said, kneeling to gather kindling. With practiced ease, she struck flint to steel, and a small flame blossomed, growing into a welcoming fire. She murmured an incantation under her breath; a soft glow encircled them as her Ranger''s Sanctuary enveloped the clearing, ensuring they wouldn''t be disturbed. Pakhet settled down across from her, extending her hands toward the flames. The warmth seeped into her fingers, chasing away the mountain''s chill. Lethanda noted with satisfaction that she was embracing the moment, letting the sensations of the world sink in. "As a young ranger, I made a deadly mistake around here," Lethanda began, tossing a twig into the fire. It crackled, sending a spiral of sparks into the night sky. The smoke curled upward, carrying whispers of memories she''d rather forget. Pakhet looked up, her curiosity evident. "What happened?" "I was captivated by the dark side of our powers," Lethanda admitted, her gaze distant. The shadows around them seemed to deepen. She could almost feel the weight of past choices pressing against her. "I''ve been troubled by the choices in front of me," Pakhet said softly. "I''m at a key junction. I see two paths ahead: a dark path, where I could infuse my bow with shadows and unholy power, and a path of becoming one with nature, working alongside an animal companion." Lethanda smiled gently, snuggling into Hati''s thick fur. The great wolf rested beside her, his eyes reflecting the dancing flames. As her fingers ruffled his coat, sparks of lighting flickered, mingling with the firelight. "Yes, the dark side," Lethanda mused. "That was my initial choice." "You chose the dark?" Pakhet asked, eyebrows arching in surprise. It was hard to reconcile the image of this serene ranger, harmoniously bonded with her spirit wolf, having ever walked a darker path. "Is it that astonishing?" Lethanda laughed lightly. "The power it offers, the promise of quick victories ¡ª it all seemed so appealing. I buried myself in manuals and ancient tomes that spoke of harnessing the shadows for swift riches." "But, Pakhet," she continued, her voice softening. She met the young ranger''s eyes across the fire, the glow illuminating the earnest concern in them. "Let me tell you the truth. Those tomes, those manuals¡ªthey''re penned by individuals who forget that not everyone is ready to face such darkness. They were written by those who cared only for diving into the deepest dungeons, far from the lands we¡¯re in now. For conquering the deadliest foes without a thought for the journey to get there. They overlook that some are just starting out, without seasoned companions or a thirst for peril." She leaned forward, the fire casting shadows across her face. "We¡¯re all on a journey, just as you are. All Rangers will at some point dabble in the darkness." Pakhet nodded slowly, absorbing her words. "And now, young Pakhet, my advice¡ªgained from making all the wrong choices," Lethanda said with a wry smile. "Choose the way of nature for now." She gestured toward the eastern horizon, where the first hints of moonlight silvered the peaks. "To our east, in just a few minutes, a rare snow leopard will emerge from his cave. Hrimfang is his name. Go ¡ª leave Hati and me to enjoy the fire. Return when you''ve tamed this mighty snow cat." Lethanda reached into her satchel retrieving a small bundle. She tossed it to Pakhet who caught it deftly. Inside there was fresh meat wrapped in leaves and a couple of gleaming vials. "Just in case it''s harder than you expect," Lethanda added, with a wink. Pakhet grinned. Excitement lighting up her features. "Well, taming legendary creatures before bedtime wasn''t on my agenda, but who am I to refuse?" "That''s the spirit," Lethanda replied, warmth filling her chest. Pakhet stood, securing the gifts in her own satchel at her side. "Any tips?" "Trust your instincts," Lethanda said. "And remember ¡ª sometimes the quiet approach speaks louder than words." "Got it," Pakhet nodded. "See you soon." As the young ranger disappeared into the shadows Lethanda leaned back, the tension easing from her shoulders. The fire crackled softly. The flames painting flickering patterns on the surrounding trees. Hati shifted beside her, his steady breathing a comforting rhythm. She inhaled deeply, savouring the crisp night air tinged with pine and the faint hint of snow. The taste of winter lingered on her tongue. The stars overhead pierced the velvet darkness, each one a distant beacon. Unwanted memories stirred¡ªthe weight of past battles with her guildmates, the cold efficiency of power claimed but without purpose. She recalled the many recent times when victory felt hollow, achievements marred by a disconnection from the world around her. Those moments when the game mechanics overshadowed the story, reducing rich experiences to mere calculations. They¡¯d been far too many of those moments lately for her liking. But she pushed those thoughts aside, letting the tranquillity of the moment envelop her. Here, by the fire, under the endless sky, she felt grounded. Alive. "Perhaps," she murmured to Hati, scratching behind his ear, "guiding Pakhet will help me find my own path again." The wolf tilted his head, storm-filled eyes reflecting her own. She smiled, allowing herself to simply be ¡ª to feel the warmth of the flames, the solidity of the earth beneath her, the gentle caress of the night breeze. In this quiet space, she found a semblance of peace. And so, she waited, trusting that Pakhet''s journey would be as enlightening for the young ranger as it was for herself. * Lucy slowly disconnected. The world of pixels fading as reality seeped back in. She lay sprawled on an oversized king bed. Luxury enveloping her. Moving her arm ignited a blaze of pain; even reaching to remove the headset was almost too much. Peril was awake, up and about ¡ª recovering faster than Lucy had anticipated. They''d only been at the hotel twelve hours; Lucy had thought she''d be out for the day. Peril sat on a spacious sofa. Three news vids playing simultaneously while she tapped away on multiple datapads sprawled across her lap. Lucy tried to rise but failed. Her lower back was a furnace of pain. Every nerve-ending aflame. Terrance had come and gone within an hour of their arrival. She hadn''t known he made house-calls. The cooling gels and muscle relaxants he''d administered were working. Lucy wondered how she''d feel without them. Lioncourt had left. She suspected that now Peril was safe, he''d gone hunting ¡ª a knife gliding through the night. Peril heard her strained noises and moved over. She picked up a tub of gel, applied it gently, then pressed an airhypo against Lucy''s skin, delivering more muscle relaxants. "Shhh," Peril whispered. The gel soothed. Dulling the edges of the pain. Lucy had escaped into Gates of Baraadon to dull the worst of it. She''d spent hours de-stressing with Pakhet, the young ranger. The game was in a content drought. The Fellowship had the latest raids on farm status. Six months until the next expansion. Several guild members had signed off, saying they''d be back when the expansion dropped. Burnout. Fatigue. Possible boredom. Or maybe just a mix of them all. Even Arcanis mentioned he was trying a new space-based VR MMORPG that had just come out, nudging Kurgrim to join. When she''d seen the RP event to mentor new players, she''d leapt at it ¡ª a return to what she loved. Her adventures with the spirited Pakhet had come at the right time. In more ways than one. Her mind was still racing. She thought the game would help her crash, but the adrenaline from earlier still coursed through her. Sitting in a virtual world, feeling no danger, savouring the cold bite of digital snow ¡ª it was the timeout she needed. "Where are you at right now, my love?" Peril''s voice was soft, loving, with a hint of curiosity. Lucy realised she''d been mumbling. "Sorry," she said. "The gel feels amazing ¡ª I zoned out for a moment." "It''s okay," Peril replied tenderly. "You''re under enough muscle relaxants to tranquilize a stallion." She chuckled. "A little zoning out is expected." "I think we''re completely safe now," Peril added. "What?" Lucy considered sitting up but thought better of it. The ceiling would have to suffice as a view for now. "Explain, please. Like I''m someone who never went to college," she quipped. "Ouch," Peril said softly. "You''re going to keep using that one, aren''t you?" She teased. "Damn right," Lucy managed a weak smile. Peril settled beside her. "Okay, here''s the rundown. An hour before markets opened, KuehneX-MaerFed Logistics announced they''d resolved their issues. In the next thirty minutes, every member of their board of directors died ¡ª though you won''t find that info in the mainstream news unless you dig deep." "Ten minutes before the market opened, a hostile takeover was announced. DynaLynxTrans Global and two other companies are slicing up K-X-MF between them." She continued, "Buried beneath that story: all three companies secured massive funds through bond and note issues bought up at well, well below-market rates, saving them billions on the acquisition costs." Lucy frowned. "This finance talk is over my head. Walk me through it?" Peril offered a faint smile. "Sure. My take is, K-X-MF caved to the ransomware demands. Someone objected ¡ª took out the entire board, dismantled the company, and handed the pieces to competitors. They ensured those companies got ultra cheap financing to offset any losses from the fried hardware due to the ransomware." "Corporate Council," Peril said. Lucy laughed softly. "The Corporate Council is a Hollywood myth. A secret cabal of the ultra-rich pulling strings behind the scenes." Peril looked at her intently. "Could be. But I don''t buy the official story." "Why not?" "Clearing out the board members ¡ª all of them? They were about to comply with the ransom demands. An hour before, they were confident they''d fixed everything." "You said the ransomers didn''t want cash," Lucy recalled. "No, they didn''t," Peril said quietly. "You know what they wanted," Lucy pressed. Peril hesitated. "Yes... but we''ve put safeguards in place. Our firewall. Remember? You don¡¯t want to know." Lucy felt the gel easing her pain, Peril''s hands methodically working it into her skin. "Yes, we did. Okay. And the loss adjuster?" "Gone. Dealt with," Peril said firmly. "Yannus was a good man. He didn''t deserve to die because some insurance company wanted to kidnap me. It''s handled." "You sure?" Lucy asked. Peril met her gaze. "Yes. Mark Longridge of ParaSure Solutions died three hours ago. Massive cerebral haemorrhage. His BCI burned out completely ¡ª unexplained malfunction." A flicker of fear passed through Lucy. This was the stuff of thriller vids. BCIs couldn''t be hacked like that. Multiple layers of security and cut-outs prevented it. "That''s... unexpected," she managed. Peril''s expression was grim. "A friend did it. I didn¡¯t ask them to. They were furious about what happened to us. I''m not proud of it. Or happy." "An unwise, impulsive move on their part," Peril continued. "Typical of them." "There''ll be consequences," she said, her voice heavy. "Blowback. A lot of blowback. I have Lioncourt out there now trying to get to the body before anyone can do an autopsy. Damage control." No kidding, Lucy thought. The idea of killing someone through a BCI over the ¡®Net was terrifying. Supposedly impossible. Destabilising even. "No more," Lucy whispered. "No more of this. Mercy. I can''t handle world-changing secrets right now." Peril nodded. "My knight in shining armour gets her way." She leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on Lucy''s forehead. "I''m going to call Ceri," Lucy said. "Wind-down by telling her about my gaming adventures. Then try to sleep." "Good," Peril replied. "Rest. We''re safe. Tomorrow, Terrance will fix up your muscles." She stood, a hint of playfulness returning. "Just holler if you need more gel. Happy to apply it anywhere you like." She winked. "This stuff reminds me of when we tried that nuru gel massage." Lucy smiled as Peril returned to her datapads. She activated her BCI, connecting to Ceri on a secure line. The connection took a few moments. Then a nurse''s face appeared. Lucy''s heart sank even before the nurse spoke. No, not now. Not on top of everything else. This was too much for one day. It was unfair. Just a few more words with her friend was all she craved. "I''m sorry," the nurse began softly. Lucy listened, the words washing over her. Ceri was gone. But all she could think about was what she would have told her. How much Ceri would have enjoyed learning about the quippy Pakhet. She¡¯d so much just wanted to bring a smile to Ceri¡¯s face. It wasn''t as crushing as she''d feared. She''d send flowers. Arrange a memorial stone. Do more. Relief mingled with sorrow. Ceri had been in so much discomfort, even if she¡¯d been able to avoid outright pain. Lucy was grateful she''d passed before the suffering became unbearable. She was glad Ceri had opted for the pain editor implant years ago. Something Lucy would discuss with Terrance tomorrow. It seemed a wise investment. A few tears traced paths down her cheeks. She''d had months to prepare for this moment. It wasn''t the hammer blow she''d anticipated. Too much, yes. Too much in one day. But not unexpected. It was more it had come at a bad time. On a bad day. She imagined that Ceri would find that thought darkly humorous had she been able to talk to her about it. Lucy imagined telling Ceri that her death was ¡®inconveniently timed¡¯. The little gnome would be roaring in laughter she knew. Closing the connection, she lay back, staring at the ceiling. It was like it had been the final emotional blow to send her spiralling into the abyss of unconsciousness. Her mental weariness now matched her physical. The city hummed softly outside, neon lights casting a faint glow through the curtains. "Rest in peace, Ceri. Guildmaster of the Fellowship of Aletra. Friend." she whispered to herself before sleep claimed her. Chapter 19 Lucy stared out the window of Peril''s apartment. Fingers traced the plush leather of the chair. The sunrise painted the skyline in hues of gold and crimson, filtering through the maze of towers. A week had passed since Terrance fixed her muscles ¡ª more synth-muscle, more nano-ligaments. He''d confirmed what Lioncourt had said: the initial period of pushing her systems to the max was the hardest. "You red-lined your systems how many times?" Terrance had shaken his head. "Four, maybe five times at max ouput, Skadi. The human body can only take so much before it destroys itself. I thought you knew this, read all the manuals?" You''re not Lioncourt, more machine than man, she had thought. Terrance had advised her to only use the ReflexArc-X at fifty percent or less for repeated uses if she wanted more. "Max should be held in reserve," he''d said. "Far less impact, and probably just as effective given your speed." He was right. She''d needed full power against the woman fighting Lioncourt at the club, but for the two brutes? Half her capacity would''ve sufficed. It had been gross overkill. A pure panic reaction. Peril emerged from her room, carrying two steaming mugs of coffee. She moved softly, settling into the chair nearby. Lucy regarded her in the morning light. She''d been staying here for the past few days but had hardly seen Peril. The hacker had locked herself in her secret room for hours on end, surfacing only for meals. Aurum had stopped by last night. The conversation had been pleasant, but it was clear they had business to discuss¡ªbusiness that didn''t include Lucy. She''d excused herself to head to the firing range, giving them space. Relationship firewalls were a great concept but lousy in practice, she''d decided. Her twin H&Ks had gotten a good workout. She''d missed them ¡ª and had needed them at the club. Returning later, Peril was back in her room, but a note had been pinned to the fridge: Please stay a few more nights. I love you.?? "Skipping the naked workout today?" Peril teased, breaking the silence with a sly smile, and bringing the ever-introspective Lucy back to reality. "I think my girlfriend couldn''t handle the excitement," Lucy shot back playfully. "She definitely needs to eat more breakfast. And coffee is not breakfast." Peril frowned slightly. Clearly disagreeing with the comment on coffee. "I''ll cook us some eggs on toast," Lucy laughed. "And you''ll have some fruit and yogurt too." "A feast! My lady cooks me a feast," Peril bantered, her eyes dancing. Lucy glanced at her internal clock. "Anyway, I''m heading out soon. Got a job from a new Fixer." "You''ll be back tonight?" Peril asked. "It''s Lioncourt''s turn to cook. He''s making Boeuf Bourguignon according to my schedule. I can save you leftovers." Lucy chuckled. Lioncourt''s culinary skills were an unexpected facet of the relentless killer. She looked at Peril. Blunt honesty had always been the core of their relationship. She decided just to say what was bothering her. Sipping her coffee, she took a breath. "Peril, I''ve been here almost a week now. Basically living with you. You keep asking me to stay another day, which is great. But I''m starting to run out of bras and panties, at least." "I bought some for you," Peril said casually, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. "My panties aren''t usually crotchless," Lucy said with a raised eyebrow. Peril grinned. "Consider it expanding your horizons." Lucy shook her head, smiling. "Look, I know the attack at the club has you on edge. But from what Lioncourt says, this building is a fortress. He''s checked it out himself, and he wouldn''t say that unless it was true. You''re safe here; you don''t need me as a watchdog." Peril''s eyes roamed over her, a soft smile forming. "You are so not clued in sometimes, it hurts," she said with a light chuckle. "What''s that supposed to mean?" Lucy asked. "It''s not about safety," Peril replied. Lucy sensed there was a layer of self-deceit in that. She''d felt Peril shivering from nightmares at night this last week. Waking up and clutching her. Only returning to sleep when held tightly and close. Peril took a deep breath. "I want you to move in with me," she said finally. "I''ve been trying to pluck up the courage to ask." Lucy blinked, caught off guard. "Oh." Peril hurried on, words tumbling out. "I know it''s sudden, and we haven''t really talked about it, but having you here feels right. I¡ª" "Peril," Lucy interrupted gently. Peril looked at her, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. Lucy smiled softly. "I''ll consider it. I really will. I¡¯ll give you an answer tonight." "Really?" Peril''s face lit up. "Yes, really. But we might need to get me some non-crotchless panties for if I¡¯m staying over," Lucy added with a wink. Peril laughed, relief evident. "Deal." * Lucy stared through the morning drizzle at the closed front door of the restaurant a hundred feet away. Her cyberoptics sliced through the rain and half-light rendering the entryway in sharp detail. Little Asia stirred sluggishly around her¡ªa mosaic of Japanese kanji, Chinese hanzi, Thai script. Neon signs dimmed in the wet dawn with many flickering off as the city yawned awake. Nearby a cough echoed. Homeless figures huddled under makeshift shelters ¡ª plastic tarps, tattered blankets, anything to keep the relentless rain at bay. The alley reeked. A stew of sewage and decay. She noted the wrinkle in the young woman''s nose across from her. At least the stench bothered both of them. No, probably not ¡®just¡¯ a woman, Lucy reminded herself. She hadn''t wanted to bother Aurum ¡ª this was her first big job without his safety net. So she''d asked Lioncourt for a reliable Clean. He''d forwarded her the contact almost immediately: Phran Ying. Had it not been for the light blue, pink, and white striped jacket ¡ª the trans flag ¡ª Lucy might never have guessed to be fair. She wasn''t one for labels. She''d known she was into girls since high school but never felt the need to broadcast it. It was just part of who she was. Clearly, the pretty Thai woman across from her felt differently. Even if ninety percent of people wouldn''t recognise the flag, wearing it openly was a huge statement to anyone who did appreciate its meaning. Maybe I should ask Peril to the next Seattle Pride march, Lucy mused. 110 years this year. She¡¯d never been or celebrated before. But then, she¡¯d never had anyone to celebrate with. Which seemed the most important point. A tilt of the head from Phran Ying pulled her back. The woman''s eyes questioned her silently. Lucy shook her head. She was staring at the woman under her mask. No wonder the slight Thai woman was looking worried. Their comms channel was open; no need to speak. Skadi: Give it another ten minutes. Local news reports an accident on the I-5. Could just be traffic. Phran Ying nodded, her face impassive. Lucy returned her gaze to the building but couldn''t shake thoughts of Lioncourt. He wouldn''t have recommended someone incompetent. Behind his foppish exterior lay a cold strategist. Yet, he was also a manipulator who enjoyed toying with people. Was this his way of messing with her? Calm down, she chided herself. Unfair to project her irritation onto Phran Ying. She barely knew the girl or her connection to Lioncourt. From that first night at the club, it was clear Lioncourt appreciated both hard-bodied men and beautiful women. As a gay woman, Lucy hadn''t questioned it. She wanted to ask Phran Ying how she''d met him, but in the middle of a job wasn''t the time. It was a puerile thing to question or feel the need to know, she knew. A black limo finally pulled up ¡ª a heavy, armoured beast from the 2060s, all sharp angles and menace. This was why Phran Ying was here. The intel for this job had cost Lucy, so she''d hired a Clean to offset expenses by cashing in the bounties on the killers surrounding her main target. Mr. Huang Chen. A very naughty man who probably thought his clockwork routine of arriving at the restaurant''s back office by 8 a.m. sharp made him look diligent. Today, it was his downfall. She''d paid a hacker for days of surveillance footage, analysed his patterns. The fool probably believed his internal cameras kept him safe. Since meeting Peril and diving into Rain City''s underbelly, Lucy trusted nothing connected to the ¡®Net. Her hot-shot paid hacker Hellball might have had the simply stupidest name Lucy had ever heard in her months working the shadows of Seattle; but he was damn effective. At 8 am, Mr Chen arrived. Five guards. One stayed with the car, two flanked the Chinese restaurant entrance, one headed to the kitchen to prep breakfast, the last ¡ª always the same one ¡ª ascended to the back office with the boss. No cameras in the office, unfortunately. Mr. Chen enjoyed a quiet breakfast brought up by the kitchen-bound guard, then by 9 am was out collecting debts. A loan shark and an extortionist. Ugly combination that made him plenty of enemies. Today, he''d meet a very public end. She waited until the guards settled by the entrance, counted to ten, then stepped out. The street was nearly empty¡ªa few homeless souls tucked away. Couldn''t be helped. The cameras would be down; Hellball had seen to that. There were other ways to handle this. She didn''t need this job. It was black work ¡ª a mercenary hit, as dark as it gets. Lucy had chosen this job though. It was straight out wetwork. But the target was a legitimate bad-guy surrounded by killers. She¡¯d sleep sound tonight without regrets. Is this how Lioncourt had started out? A spiral of justifications, she considered,as she passed the hood of the armoured car. Lucy noticed the driver smoking, window down. All as usual. He chatted casually with the guards. So unprofessional. She could almost hear Lioncourt''s mocking tone: Tellement peu professionnel. An open armoured window, guards distracted, and they let a lone small woman approach unchecked. Hood down. Hell, Lucy was even wearing a ballistic facemask deep under the hood. Warning flags should have been waved by that at least. Too sloppy. She activated her ReflexArc-X to fifty percent ¡ª not even maxed. As she moved, she confirmed each face against the bounty database. Triad gangsters, all with death sentences according to her datapads. Multiple murders each¡ªthe driver had the least with five. She spun smoothly ¡ª a brief blur to any outside observer, which probably meant only Phran Ying. Three suppressed shots cracked like distant firecrackers. Subsonic ammo and heavy suppressors couldn''t mask the sound entirely.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. Her gun link painted targets over their foreheads at less than seven feet. They didn''t have time to reach for weapons or register surprise. Their bodies crumpled almost simultaneously. Lucy didn''t pause. She slipped into the restaurant, reflexes dialling back only slightly after the brief spike. She drew the razor-sharp Ka-Bar from its sheath across her back¡ªthe one she''d kept since the club fight. This next one needed to be silent. She suspected the kitchen guard might have enhancements. She needn''t have worried. The large, older gangster was engrossed in cooking, a pan sizzling as he hummed along to a tinny radio. No mercy, no hesitation. A face quick scan against the bounty database confirmed six murders, a rape, other felonies. A happy, humming killer. She closed the distance in less than a heartbeat. The knife plunged into the back of his skull, the blade sinking to the hilt. He dropped without a sound. If he¡¯d had enhancements, as Lucy had suspected, none had alerted him and he¡¯d been caught completely surprised. She extracted the knife with both effort and a practiced twist. Phran Ying had orders to follow a minute behind, start processing the bounties. Lucy had limited her to four claims. No need to drag someone else down paths she''d walked before. She ascended the stairs quietly¡ªone flight, a ninety-degree turn. Damn. The final guard was descending, gun in hand, just as she rounded the corner. Neither expected the other. Both enhanced. Time dilated. Her Bullet-Rzor AI calculated probabilities and had her reacting before she even realised it had moved her. Her left hand snapped out, slapping the gangster¡¯s gun aside as she twisted left. Her body moved with uncanny grace, a dance of survival. Her own weapon barked from her right hand, muzzle flashes strobing the narrow stairwell. A sledgehammer hit her right shoulder¡ªarmour absorbing most of it. But she''d feel that later. Credit to his skill and cyberware; he managed to get a shot off. Red-lining her systems now, she saw him moving sluggishly in comparison. Her bullets stitched upward¡ªchest, throat, face. His features disintegrated under the onslaught. No time to hesitate. She was up the final few stairs and through the office door in a fluid motion. Mr. Chen was just reacting to the stairwell gunfire. Eyes wide. Lucy''s ears still rang from the confined blasts. Temporarily deaf. But it didn''t matter. Three more silenced shots ended it. No waiting, no slowing. She connected her datalink to his terminal ¡ª lucky he hadn''t closed it. She jammed a remote connector into the offline office system. Mr. Chen had kept his records off the ¡®Net, paranoid enough for that. Why so careful with his data but lax with cameras? She''d never know. People did stupid things sometimes with their security systems. Lucy had come across sloppy set-ups like this far too many times now to question it anymore. A signal from her hacker ¡ª Hellball, the ridiculous name made her half-smile every time ¡ª meant he was in. Multiple ways to handle this, but Lucy chose thoroughness. Hellball would wipe the data; she''d slag the hardware with a device that would fry the terminals components. Maybe Mr Chen had backups, a cloud server somewhere. Couldn''t account for everything. The client mainly wanted him dead. All his data being burnt away was a secondary objective. She descended the stairs. Her shoulder throbbed¡ªa dull ache setting in. According to her internal clock, Phran Ying was still thirty seconds from the front door. She powered down the ReflexArc-X to it¡¯s lowest ready-state settings. The flood of AI predictive reactions and auto-choices scrolling in her eyeline slowed to a crawl while her muscles started to relax. She exited the restaurant as Phran Ying began scanning the driver''s eye for the bounty claim. Without a word, she walked away. Their post-op rendezvous was pre-arranged. Without Aurum''s laundering network, the payment would be in cash from the young Thai woman. Not ideal for Phran Ying if she got tax audited, but she''d agreed anyway. Ten minutes and several blocks later, they sat on a park bench near a coffee shop overlooking Judkins Skatepark. Phran Ying''s eyes were a bit too wide for Lucy''s liking ¡ª still riding the adrenaline. Damn, Lucy thought, as she felt the need for a good coffee pine at her. I really want to ask how you know Lioncourt. A fatuous question at this point, post-op. But she couldn¡¯t deny just wanting to know. The Thai woman slipped her an envelope. Lucy pocketed it smoothly. "You should get a Fixer who can launder the cuts better," Lucy said, eyes on the skaters weaving through concrete bowls. "I can recommend someone." Phran Ying''s voice was steady, her American accent crisp ¡ª a contrast to her delicate Thai features. Lucy had stupidly expected broken English. Another misconception. More assumptions on her part. "That''s very kind of you," she replied politely. They sat in silence for a moment. "Mind if I ask you a personal question?" Lucy ventured. She knew with her mask and hood she might seem intimidating. Phran Ying seemed a bit skittish. Maybe the killing had rattled her. Not ideal for the job spec of a Clean. "Go ahead," Phran Ying said, nodding. "How do you know Lioncourt?" A slight smile touched the woman''s lips. "I do some security work for a place Mr. Lioncourt frequents. He''s a good customer, never any trouble with the girls. Helped me out once with a rowdy situation." Lucy studied her. At barely her own five-three and slighter than herself, it was hard to picture Phran Ying as muscle in an ¡®establishment¡¯. But she didn''t comment. "May I keep your number?" Lucy asked. "You do good work." Phran Ying seemed pleased. "Sure." They lapsed into silence again. Lucy considered offering a smile, but with her mask on, it wouldn''t be seen. She decided it was time to leave. As Lucy walked away, rain starting to fall again, she couldn''t shake the feeling that Lioncourt had orchestrated more than just a recommendation. Manipulator indeed. * The sun dipped toward the horizon casting a golden glow over the treetops. Lethanda stood at the edge of the Forest feeling the cool breeze brush against her skin like a whispered promise. The scent of pine and rich earth filled the air as she knelt to build the campfire. Her fingers deftly arranging kindling and logs with practiced ease. Nearby Pakhet paced lightly. Her boots barely making a sound on the soft ground. She glanced into the shadowed depths between the trees. "You know," she began, a hint of nervous laughter in her voice, "they say the Forest is where overconfident adventurers go to become humble legends." Lethanda smiled softly. The fire sparking to life before her. "That used to be the case," she mused. "But many have travelled these paths since then. The Forest''s mysteries aren''t as unforgiving as they once were." She looked over at Hrimfang, Pakhet''s sleek snow leopard, lounging calmly beside her. "A good ranger with a solid bow and a companion like Hrimfang should do just fine." Unspoken between them was the knowledge that Lethanda, adorned in armour woven from myth and wielding a legendary bow, would never let Pakhet face danger alone. One arrow from her quiver could fell beasts¡¯ others dared not confront. "Can I ask you something about being a Ranger?" Pakhet''s voice broke the comfortable silence. Lethanda nodded, settling closer to the warm glow of the flames. "Always." "Are we forces for good? Noble, even?" Pakhet hesitated, her gaze fixed on the dancing fire. "I mean, we''re tasked with killing orcs and goblins in this Forest. But are we doing the right thing?" Lethanda looked up at the emerging stars, their light piercing the twilight. "Only the biggest questions for such a beautiful night," she replied with a gentle chuckle. She pulled out some dried meat and began assembling a simple stew over the fire. "I''ve wandered these lands," she said after a moment, the aroma of cooking filling the air. "Taken on quests here and in places far beyond." She stirred the pot thoughtfully. "Nobility is a complex word. It''s easy to cast ourselves as heroes without considering the weight of our actions. The fact that you''re questioning it means you''re already wise beyond your years." Pakhet offered a faint smile. "I just can''t shake the feeling that there''s more to it." "I''ve struggled with this myself," Lethanda admitted, adding a pinch of herbs to the stew. The steam curled upward carrying with it memories she''d rather forget. "I''ve made choices... some not so noble." She paused, her voice softening. "I''ve killed without remorse. Without regret. Criticised others for taking justice into their own hands, called them murderers even. Swore I''d never be like them." Pakhet watched her intently. "And yet," Lethanda continued, gazing into the depths of the Forest, "I''ve found myself doing the same. Creating my own rules. My own justice." She turned to Pakhet. "Tell me, which quest do you find most noble among those you have here?" Pakhet shrugged lightly. "That''s easy. Killing twelve goblins. The farmer at the North Farm was attacked. We''re helping reduce the goblin raids that have been terrorising his family." Lethanda nodded slowly. "Yes. They raided his farm, stole his crops. Made his life dangerous." "Exactly," Pakhet said firmly. "We''re bringing him justice." "Or are we simply killers?" Lethanda''s eyes met Pakhet''s. "We frame it as a noble act, but at the end of the day, we''re taking lives. The farmer feels safer, yes. But consider why he''s turned to us. The local law has failed him so utterly that he doesn''t even seek their help anymore." Pakhet frowned. "So - what are you saying? That we shouldn''t help?" "We''ve become the law," Lethanda replied quietly. "We decide who''s evil and act accordingly. No trials. No mercy." Unbidden, her thoughts drifted to Mr. Chen ¡ª the man she''d eliminated without hesitation. The five faceless guards along the way, she¡¯d dismissed them as unrepentant killers. Necessary, perhaps, but was it just? She began ladling the stew into bowls, handing one to Pakhet. The rich scent of the meal mingled with the crisp night air. "But goblins are evil," Pakhet insisted, blowing gently on her stew. "They live to commit evil acts." "Perhaps that''s our saving grace from these troubling thoughts," Lethanda said with a soft smile. "I''ve travelled long and hard, and you''re right. I''ve yet to meet a goblin, orc, or troll who wasn''t irredeemably violent or evil in this world." She took a slow sip, savouring the warmth. "But what if we did? What if tomorrow we met a goblin who was different? Peaceful. Helpful, even." Pakhet looked thoughtful. "I suppose... that would change things." "I''ve killed so many," Lethanda murmured. "I sleep at night because I''ve built a world in my mind where I''m the hero, fighting against darkness. Against an unfair world. But what if I''m wrong? What if some didn''t deserve their fate?" Silence settled between them, broken only by the crackling fire and the soft sounds of Hati and Hrimfang enjoying their portions. After a while, Pakhet spoke. "So - what''s the answer?" Lethanda leaned back, eyes gazing into the vast expanse of stars. Memories of distant battles and faces pressed against her thoughts. "If you find it, please tell me," she whispered. "I''ve seen much, done much, but that answer still escapes me." She felt a dampness on her cheek. Tears? But Lethanda didn''t cry. Not here. The emotion was real, seeping in from the world beyond the game. Lucy felt the tears on her own face, the weight of her actions both virtual and real intertwining. "But that''s what friends are for, right?" Pakhet''s voice was gentle, pulling her back. "To help us find our way." Lethanda turned to her, curiosity piqued. "How do you mean?" "Your guild, your companions," Pakhet said, a soft smile playing on her lips. "They keep you grounded? Help you stay on the right path? Like your mentorship for me? Helping to keep me on the path of righteousness." "You''re not wrong," Lethanda acknowledged, a hint of warmth returning to her voice. "The people we surround ourselves with shape who we become." "Exactly," Pakhet grinned. "So maybe together, we can figure it out." Lethanda chuckled softly. "Perhaps we can." They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the weight of the conversation giving way to the simple pleasure of shared company. "Well," Pakhet stretched, stifling a yawn. "Big day tomorrow. Orcs and trolls won''t slay themselves." Lethanda smiled. "True enough. We should rest." As they settled into their bedrolls, the sounds of the night enveloped them¡ªthe rustling leaves, distant hoots of owls, the steady breathing of their companions. "Goodnight, Lethanda," Pakhet whispered. "Goodnight, Pakhet." But sleep didn''t come easily. Lucy lay there, the lines between her and Lethanda blurring. Surround yourself with good influences... she thought. But have I? She felt the tears again, the reality of her choices pressing in. The people she worked with, the things she''d done¡ªthey weighed on her more heavily than any in-game quest. She missed Ceri¡¯s voice. What would Ceri have said about her taking wetwork contracts now? Killing for money and profit? Choosing who lived and died. With Lioncourt, Peril and Aurum it was pure nonchalance, a natural progression if anything for them in her journey into Seattle¡¯s shadows. Ceri would have been horrified; Lucy knew. More importantly, Lucy would have been too just a year ago. Despite their friendship she still regarded Lioncourt as a probable sociopath in a fashionable suit, a mass-murderer, a killer without remorse. She was suddenly acutely pained that maybe the only remaining difference between them both was body-count size. Lucy¡¯s eyes, already closed hard, tightened further at the unwanted thought. "I need a break," she whispered into the darkness. Logging out, the game faded, and she was back in Peril¡¯s loft, lying on the couch. The soft hum of the city outside the window was a stark contrast to the serene forest she''d just left. She took a deep breath, wiping her eyes. A fifteen-minute bio-break to collect her thoughts, to process the emotions stirred by a simple conversation in a virtual world. "Get it together," she told herself softly. Chapter 20 "It was Hellball who sparked the idea," Lucy mused, watching Peril nearly choke on a bite of Lioncourt''s meticulously crafted stuffed pasta. The warm scent of spinach and ricotta filled the room. Peril coughed, reaching for her glass of sparkling water. She took a sip. Eyes wide. "Sorry?" she managed. Lioncourt sighed softly, setting down his fork. "All that effort," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "And we''re diverting to conversation instead of savouring the meal." Lucy felt a ripple of tension. "Have you ever heard of The Black Chalice?" she asked for the second time, trying to sound casual. Peril glanced at Lioncourt. Then back at Lucy. Her fingers fidgeted with her water glass. "That name wasn''t on my list for tonight," she said, her words tumbling out. "Did... did you mention it to her?" she asked Lioncourt. He raised his hands in a graceful gesture. "Non," he replied smoothly. "Les secrets ne devraient pas exister entre de belles dames." His smile was disarming, but his eyes held a glint of something unreadable. "Hellball mentioned it," Lucy continued. "Suggested it as a place for future business meetings. Gave me an invitation code." Peril''s gaze dropped to her plate. She took a deep breath. "It''s an untouchable, untraceable shadow data fortress," she began, words spilling out quickly. "A digital third-space deep in the darknet. Invitation only." She paused, collecting her thoughts. "It''s used by people deep in the shadows ¡ª fixers, mercs. They value discretion above all else. A dark online community of anarchists, mercenaries, shadow workers of all kinds... and other, more esoteric types." Her voice trailed off, the last words almost a whisper. Lucy studied her, mind whirring. They''d shared so much ¡ª late-night confessions, whispered secrets. Peril knew she craved connection in the shadows. They had laughed together about the lack of secret handshakes or hidden shadow bars. Of course it was all online. The realisation hit her hard. She took another bite of pasta, savouring the rich flavours, trying to steady herself. "There''s more, isn''t there?" Lucy said quietly. "The Black Chalice¡ªit sounds... Arthurian." Peril nodded slowly, a hint of guilt in her eyes. "You''ll find out soon enough if you go," she said. "The owner is a hacker named Siege Perilous. Sometimes called Galahad by friends." A small smile played on her lips. "A massive knight in literal shining armour." "You soppy romantic," Lucy teased, a mix of amusement and something deeper. "Your online persona is the mighty knight? No wonder people don''t connect you two." "And who are you then? Lancelot?" Lucy asked to Lioncourt, a playful glint in her eye. Peril and Lioncourt exchanged a glance. Lucy gasped, laughter bubbling up. "No! Seriously?" Lioncourt placed a hand over his heart theatrically. "But of course," he declared. "Who else could embody such charm? Le plus puissant chevalier de tout le royaume." He winked, his accent wrapping around each word like silk. "This is the secret?" Lucy asked, her emotions a swirl of surprise and mild amusement. Peril shrugged, her gaze earnest. "Part of it. Not all. When we talked about firewalls in our lives, about not wanting to know each other''s secrets, it''s been hard to know where to draw the lines." "I feel awful," she added softly. Lucy took a sip of water, considering. "I''m not angry at all. It''s complicated. We lead very complex lives, compartmentalising everything." She met Peril''s eyes. "But things are starting to make sense. You''re the owner of a darknet fortress catering to all kinds of shadow dealings. Grimes wanting the Siege Perilous makes unfortunate sense¡ªand it''s dangerous for me to know. What if someone like Grimes targets me again?" "We take that risk together," Peril said, reaching across the table to grasp Lucy''s hand, her touch warm. Lioncourt stood gracefully, his movements smooth and deliberate. "Perhaps I should give you two some privacy," he said, a hint of a smile on his lips. "Trois, c''est une foule." He carried his plate to the couch settling in with effortless elegance. "It''s different from your VR world," Peril continued, her thumb tracing circles on Lucy''s hand. "Not as sophisticated or sensory-rich. It''s built for privacy, untraceability, security ¡ª not flashy graphics or biofeedback." "But people still have cool avatars," she added, a spark returning to her eyes. "You''d be surprised at the effort some hardened black ops merc-types put into their online personas." Lucy tilted her head. "Can you design one for me?" Peril''s face lit up. "That''s the right question!" she exclaimed. "A cool ranger avatar, perhaps? How big would you like those fantasy breasts?" A mischievous gleam danced in her eyes. Lucy sighed dramatically, a smile tugging at her lips. Both of them were very slender ¡ª Peril was practically an ironing board, and Lucy barely a B cup. Her girlfriend being a breast woman in many ways was ironic. Maybe Peril liked them so much as she barely had anything to speak of herself? "Go ahead," she said finally. "Just don''t make them excessive." Peril grinned broadly. "No promises," she teased. Across the room Lioncourt chuckled softly. "Ah, young love," he mused, swirling his wine glass. "C''est un plaisir ¨¤ voir." Lucy shot him a playful glare. "Merely appreciating the ambiance," he replied, eyes twinkling. "But perhaps dessert is in order?" Peril perked up. "You made tiramisu?" she questioned. Lioncourt''s expression brightened. "Mais bien s?r, ma dame," he said. * Lucy felt Peril''s hand slip into hers, the touch warm and eager. Peril''s eyes sparkled with excitement, a grin stretching wide across her face. She looked like a kid about to unveil a trove of Christmas presents. "Can''t believe it''s finally time," Peril said, practically bouncing on her toes. "I''ve waited so, so long to show you this." Lucy chuckled, pulling Peril close for a quick kiss. "Okay, Alice," she murmured. "Lead me into your wonderland. Show me how deep the rabbit hole goes." Peril''s smile deepened. She pressed her palm against the doorpad lock. Lucy noted the subtle hum of scanners¡ªnot just fingerprints, but micro-readings of blood flow, nerve signals, maybe even more. Typical Peril, always overengineering. But the security expert in Lucy was impressed. The door slid open silently. Beyond the threshold, a dimly lit room stretched ahead, another door ten feet away. As they stepped inside, Lucy''s predictive systems pinged softly at the edge of her vision. In safe mode, they offered gentle warnings rather than urgent alerts. Her gaze drifted to the right corner. A humanoid combat drone loomed there, nearly seven feet tall. Her Bullet-Rzor AI scrolled data along her left eyeline: tri-barrelled autocannon, reactive armour plating, advanced optics. "That''s quite the surprise," Lucy said, keeping her tone light. "I don''t know much about drones, but that''s a heavy assault military model, not exactly a security bot. Expensive, lethal, and highly illegal to own." Peril flashed a mischievous grin. "We have twelve just like him throughout the building." Lucy arched an eyebrow. "Drones have pilots. You have twelve security guards I''ve never met?" "Something like that," Peril teased. Lucy thought of Leonard the doorman, always friendly behind his desk. She''d noticed the hidden security turrets in the lobby¡ªcouldn''t miss them with her learnsoft security specialist training. But twelve combat drones? In a building where other residents lived, albeit none above the seventh floor. "How many floors do you own in this building?" she asked, suspicion creeping into her voice. "Come on!" Peril tugged at her hand. "I didn''t bring you here to spend twenty minutes in the doorway." She darted through the next door, which opened at her approach. Lucy followed, her mind racing with questions. The next room was bathed in subdued hues of pink and blue¡ªPeril''s favorite colours. Rows of server racks lined the left wall, blinking quietly. To the right, Peril perched on an elaborate recliner chair festooned with cables and interfaces. A couch and a cluttered table sat nearby, datapads strewn across it. Three walls were covered with screens from floor to ceiling, a central display dominating the array. "Welcome, Skadi," a feminine voice echoed around them. The acoustics were perfect; the sound seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. "Uh, hello?" Lucy glanced at Peril, who was watching her with an expectant smile. "I''ve been so looking forward to meeting you," the voice continued. "Peril talks about you all the time. Please, let me introduce myself. I am Anneal. But please, call me Anne." Lucy tilted her head. "A house AI?" She surveyed the room, noting a few humanoid drones moving among the servers ¡ª technician models, their movements precise. "Nice setup," she added. "Though ''Anne'' doesn''t quite fit your whole Arthurian theme. Unless my lore is rusty. Should she be Genevieve or something?" Peril laughed softly. "Anneal chose her own name. It''s quite appropriate." "You could say it''s central to how I came into being," Anne chimed in. "She''s also much more than a house AI," Peril said, her eyes gleaming. "Okay..." Lucy felt a flicker of unease. She hadn''t seen Peril this animated in a while. "Did I speak too soon?" Anne asked politely. "Are we still unwrapping surprises?" "No, you''re right on time," Peril assured her. Lucy sank onto the couch. "So what''s this about?" Peril took a breath. "Anne is an AGI." Lucy blinked. Then she laughed. "No." She said, with absolute definitive certainty. Peril raised an eyebrow. "No?" "Bullshit," Lucy said lightly. "It''s a very sophisticated AI, I''ll give you that. Great voice, by the way ¡ª quite charming." "Thank you," Anne replied.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. "And I bet you''ve integrated it with those drones," Lucy continued. "But AGI? Come on. No one''s cracked that yet." "AGI," Peril repeated, a playful smile on her lips. Lucy studied her, searching for the joke. "You''re serious?" "Completely." "Look," Lucy began, leaning forward. "It''s not that I don''t appreciate what you''ve built here. This setup is impressive¡ªa whole room full of servers, probably more below us. But I''ve dabbled in electronics. Even if you had an entire floor packed with processors, it''s not enough for an AGI." "She has you there," Anne interjected. "This facility couldn''t possibly house my core matrix. It''s more of an access node." Peril nodded. "I never said this was everything." "AGI," she said again, the word hanging in the air. Lucy shook her head. "At best, AGI is thirty years away. It''s like fusion power¡ªalways promised, never delivered. If someone had cracked AGI, it''d be front-page news." Peril leaned against the recliner. "What if I told you it''s been kept secret? That AGI was achieved back in 2051." Lucy stared at her. "Thirty years ago? We had smart AIs then, sure, but AGI? No way." "Has it never struck you as odd," Peril pressed, "that AI development seems to have stalled? We have better applications, sure, but no fundamental breakthroughs." "Because it''s hard," Lucy countered. "If a company had made that leap, they''d shout it from the rooftops. Stock prices would soar. You can''t keep something like that under wraps." "Unless it''s in certain interests to keep it quiet," Peril suggested. "Conspiracy theories now?" Lucy tried to keep her tone light. Anne''s voice filled the room. "She''s quite adept at scepticism. Makes valid points." Peril shot a mock glare at the ceiling. "Don''t enjoy this too much." Lucy sighed. "Even if I believed you ¡ª which I don''t ¡ª how would I verify it? Turing Tests are obsolete. AI can mimic human conversation easily." "There''s the Wozniak Coffee Test," Anne offered. "Or the Lovelace Test." Lucy chuckled. "Lovelace Test?" "An AGI creates something truly novel ¡ª art, poetry, a story," Anne explained. "That''s outdated," Lucy said. "We''ve had AI-generated art and literature for decades." "Speaking of creations," Anne said smoothly. "I made an avatar for you, for The Black Chalice." An image appeared on the central screen. A ranger in a forest, but exaggerated ¡ª impossibly large breasts, scant armour that was more decorative than protective. Lucy raised an eyebrow. "By the size of those assets and the bikini armour, I''d say that''s more for Peril''s enjoyment than mine." Peril blushed slightly. "Maybe a little artistic license." Lucy was about to respond when a thought struck her. She opened a private channel to Peril through her neural link. Skadi: Peril, tell me those armed drones aren''t controlled by this AI. Peril: Of course they are. Lucy felt a cold knot form in her stomach. She forced herself to breathe evenly. Oh my god, she thought. An AI claiming to be sentient, in control of military hardware. This was sci-fi horror territory. She remembered old vids about rogue AIs and robot uprisings. But this was Peril. She wouldn''t... would she? "Umm," Lucy said aloud, keeping her tone measured. "Maybe we can tweak the avatar a bit? Less... exaggerated. More practical armour. I''d rather not look like a pin-up in a place where we''re conducting business." Peril nodded, a hint of disappointment in her eyes. "Fair enough. We can adjust it." "This might take a while to sink in," Lucy continued. "Why don''t we table the AGI discussion for now? Let''s focus on the avatar and head to The Black Chalice." "Excellent idea," Anne agreed. "Though are you certain about the bust size? Peril does have a preference." Lucy laughed, easing back into a casual tone. "Absolutely sure. I''m not aiming for ''hentai heroine'' here. Normal proportions, please. And let''s add my ballistic mask. No need for anyone to see my face, even a stylized version." Peril smiled. "Got it. We''ll make the adjustments." Lucy took another sip of coffee, letting the rich flavour ground her. She decided to play along ¡ª for now. Peril was probably pulling an elaborate prank, or perhaps it was part of some role-playing scenario? An initiation haze for people who found out about The Black Chalice? "Ready when you are," she said, the couch lacked the many cables of the cyber-chair Peril was sitting on, but had more than enough ports to jack into. Peril logged into the recliner, hardwiring in a few neural cables. "This is going to be great," she beamed. Lucy mustered a genuine smile. "I''m sure it will be." Anne''s voice intruded again. "Looking forward to our next conversation, Skadi." "Same here," Lucy replied lightly, keeping her doubts to herself. Lucy''s mind raced, but she kept her demeanour calm. She''d humour Peril for now, but she''d need to have a serious talk later. Placing those heavy combat drones in the hands of a sophisticated AI was no laughing matter. * The sensation hit Lucy like stepping into a cold pool. This wasn''t like any VR MMORPG she''d ever played. Her usual games were immersive to the point of sensory overload, but this ¡ª this was different. The biofeedback was muted, like someone had turned off touch. But the visuals? They were a feast. She moved gracefully into the lobby bar, cascades of green code raining down the walls in stylistic homage. The Matrix, she noted instantly. Copyright laws clearly didn''t apply here. A clean white Stormtrooper argued animatedly nearby with a hulking barbarian whose muscles seemed carved from stone by Crom himself. Lucy blinked, her eyes adjusting to the chaos of avatars. It really was a IP nightmare. Maybe that hentai-inspired avatar would''ve fit right in after all. A message flickered at the bottom of her vision. Peril: Are you going to stand around the entrance all day? She glanced across the room. Peril ¡ª or rather, Galahad ¡ªstood engaged in deep conversation with someone who resembled the lead from the 2050s Yakuza Kuroi Kaze series. The avatar was a perfect rendition¡ªsharp suit, sharper katana, looked exactly like the neo-classic image from the movie: an unstoppable force cutting through yakuza ranks like a dark wind. "Skadi!" A cheerful voice pulled her back. She turned to see a walking red ball with arms, legs, and anime eyes bouncing toward her. It took a moment, but recognition clicked ¡ª a classic British sweet from the 1960s and 1970¡¯s her AI chatbot research had turned up looking up his name, a "gobstopper." Hellball. "When my invite dinged that you''d cashed it in, I rushed right over," he said, his cartoon eyes gleaming. "Couldn''t let a first-timer wander the hallowed grounds without a guide." She smiled behind her mask. "Appreciate it, Hellball. Thanks for the invite. Quite the place you''ve got here." "Oh, this?" He waved a stubby arm dismissively. "This is just the lobby. You wanna see some cool stuff? I''ll take you to the Stadium." "Lead the way." They moved toward a grand pillared entrance. "So, how many people use this place?" she asked, glancing at the myriad of avatars milling about. He shrugged¡ªa full-body motion that made him wobble comically. "Hard to say. The Black Chalice doesn''t keep a guest list. Only Siege Perilous himself probably knows the real number. But everyone important is here. Every Fixer in town spends time at the Stadium. Major players drop in a few times a week." "And law enforcement?" Lucy raised an eyebrow. "This place must be a magnet for the FBI or someone." Hellball chuckled. "We''re in the deepest shadows of cyberspace. Most think I''m a top-tier hacker, and even I can''t fathom the code we''re treading on. It''s like an untraceable, unhackable castle floating in the net." She sensed his awe. "Impressive." A message scrolled subtly into her view. Anne: There are actually two FBI agents and three active police officers who are regulars. They''ve been thoroughly vetted. Skadi: Are you listening to everything? Anne: Peril asked me to keep an eye on your first day. And, well, it''s hard not to listen when you''re everywhere. The Black Chalice, in a very literal sense, is me. You''re all kind of bouncing around inside me. It tickles. Skadi: That''s a massive secret I¡¯m guessing? If people knew you monitored everything... Anne: One of many secrets. Peril wanted you fully in the loop ¡ª no more barriers. Every black op discussed, every shadow deal made, every byte of data ¡ª it all passes through me. Skadi: Peril''s showing a lot of trust. This cuts deep. Anne: She''s wanted to share everything with you for months. They entered the Stadium, and Lucy felt her breath catch. It was a coliseum of ancient stone, vast and echoing. Above, the sky was a tapestry of classic movies playing simultaneously. Then, boundaries dissolved. Space Marines in heavy blue armour stormed into Lord of the Rings, blasting away at orcs and goblins with bolters and swinging chainswords. She''d seen AI mashups before but never like this ¡ª real-time, seamless, and stunningly detailed. A Mad Max chase intertwined with wizards playing quidditch, the landscapes merging into a chaotic symphony. Skadi: Anne, what is this? It''s incredible. Anne: Just the ceiling. I call it the mnemo-scope. My imagining cores enjoying a bit of creative expression. She could almost hear a smile in Anne''s words. Hellball nudged her. "Amazing, right? Imagine the processing power behind this." "Yeah," she murmured, still absorbing the spectacle. Her gaze drifted downward. Instead of sand the arena floor was a sprawling map of the city, magnified and detailed. "The Stadium is the place for jobs," Hellball explained. He pointed out various avatars clustered around the arena. Names floated above them¡ªfixers she''d heard whispers of, some she''d even worked with. Aurum''s name stood out. She spotted him easily. No subtlety there. His avatar towered at seven feet, a dead ringer for Idris Elba, dripping in gold rings¡ªand probably gold teeth if she got closer. She decided to test the environment. With a thought, she floated up to a seat in the stands overlooking the map. Movement here was as much mental as physical. Gravity more of a mild suggestion. Interactive menus unfolded before her allowing her to slice the data, overlay different displays, zoom in and out. The city map was rendered in dark greens and greys, a living organism. Data streams cascaded from the sky like digital rain. "What are those?" she asked Hellball, pointing to the shimmering threads. "Live feeds," he said. "Updates from Seattle PD files, camera footage from thousands of city cams, AI profiles. Every car dashcam, every doorbell camera. Thousands of tapped systems. It''s something else." Anne: This is also the forge for the Riverside News, the Sodo Times, and all the hyper-local screamsheets we publish. Symbols in blue, red, and yellow dotted the map¡ªsome with dollar signs, others with gold coin icons, a few with both. They blinked in and out of existence. "Job postings?" she guessed. "Exactly," Hellball confirmed. "The gold coins are karma." "Karma?" "A system unique to The Black Chalice. Sure, you can take jobs for cash, but the real currency here is karma gold coins." She selected a job at random. A data steal. Minimal details¡ªjust a client name, Butarant, a target area, a 24-hour window, and the payment: two karma coins or a hefty sum in cash. "Butarant," she mused. A Fixer with a stronghold in Little Asia. Lucy quick-searched her UI for the name. His avatar ¡ª a grand Chinese dragon ¡ª coiled majestically atop the coliseum. She noticed inconsistencies. Some jobs were vague, like Butarant''s. Others were hyper-specific. One caught her eye: a wetwork assignment to eliminate a named ganger, last seen minutes ago in a specific location. One karma coin, no cash option. As she watched, the job vanished. A name flashed briefly: Chrome Oni. Someone had claimed it. "What''s the point of these gold coins?" she asked. "Why not just use cash?" Hellball''s eyes widened comically. "Those coins are the ultimate currency here. Fences accept them, high-profile jobs are posted for them. They''re more valuable than money." He leaned in conspiratorially. "Remember when that doc was kidnapped by Havok?" She nodded. "Siege Perilous dropped ten karma coins into the map, prize for the highest verified body count against Havok that night. Every top merc in the city scrambled for them. Word is, Lancelot lost out to Ashwraith. Rumour has it, he had to buy Ashwraith a fancy car on top of it. He wasn''t thrilled." Lioncourt was Lancelot, she recalled. She''d have to tease him about that later. "You ready to check out the DataCrypt?" Hellball asked. "There''s more?" She arched an eyebrow. "I thought a shadow job hub with its own cyber-currency was about peak intrigue." He laughed, his round form bouncing. "Oh, the DataCrypt is hacker heaven. You''ll love it. I''ll introduce you to some friends." As they moved, she sent a quick message. Skadi: He''s awfully enthusiastic. How much did Peril pay him to be my tour guide? Anne: In the interest of transparency, she gave him a karma coin. Skadi: That''s like a hundred grand! Just for this? Anne: No, Skadi. It''s a favour. That''s what the karma coins represent¡ªtransferable favours of significant value. She pondered that. In a place where trust was scarce and favours held weight, perhaps karma was the only currency that mattered. They approached a gateway pulsating with neon glyphs. "Ready?" Hellball asked. She took a moment, absorbing the myriad of sensations¡ªthe visuals, the whispers of code, the underlying hum of immense power. "Let''s see what else this place has to offer," she said, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. Chapter 21 Lucy stretched out on the loft''s sofa her left side numb beneath layers of bandages. Deep shrapnel wounds cleaned and dressed¡ªa stark reminder of last night''s chaos. She stared at the datapad. The latest Gates of Baraadon expansion announcement glowing on the screen. A heavy sigh escaped her. Disgusted, she set the datapad aside. Resentment simmered. An ache she couldn''t ignore. Her pain editor dulled the physical agony. But mental anguish surged unchecked. She wanted to scream. Realising the loft was empty and soundproof, she let out a primal scream¡ªa technique she''d picked up from a mindfulness learnsoft. First time she''d tried it. It didn''t help. She glanced around a hint of embarrassment creeping in. Even after moving in with Peril, the expensive loft didn''t feel like home. Probably never would. Screaming in someone else''s space felt... wrong. Wait. The entire loft was monitored. A scream should''ve triggered an alert. Summoned attention. Of course. Anne. The AGI overseeing the building. She''d know not to overreact. Suspicion gnawed at her. Time to test a theory. "Anne," Lucy said aloud. "Before I moved in, you and Peril used to talk out here in the loft living space all the time, didn''t you?" A soft voice filled the air. "Yes, we did. I''ve been wondering when we''d have this conversation." Lucy pondered, a half-smile forming on the side of her face that wasn''t numb. "You don''t watch us... you know... do you?" "I monitor the building for threats," Anne replied smoothly. "I assure you I have plenty to occupy me when you and Peril are engaged in... private activities." "Besides," she added with a hint of mischief, "there''s little to learn that isn''t already extensively documented online." Lucy couldn''t help but smirk. "I am curious, though," Anne continued. "What in the latest Gates of Baraadon expansion has you so distressed?" Lucy noted that Anne knew what she''d been reading. Cameras, dataflows¡ªprobably both. "The devs," she began. "They''re taking the game in a direction I don''t like." "Could you elaborate?" Anne asked. "The content update seems extensive." Lucy sighed. Better than watching a vid stream, she supposed. "They''re adding a new faction. Up until now, it''s been one heroic faction. Now they''re introducing the Abyssal Concord¡ªplayers can be orcs, goblins, undead. They come from another world connected through the Gates." "Huge new starting area, tons of content¡ªas much as the heroes had at launch." "They''re overhauling PvP, pushing players into battlegrounds¡ªtrying to create a new eSport, as if there aren''t enough already. Adding faction mechanics." "So, a substantial amount of content," Anne interjected. Lucy frowned. "If you ignore the story. I play on a roleplayer server. Sure, there are a few new high-level dungeons, but mostly it''s about starting over with a new character, grinding levels again." "Is that so bad?" Anne asked. "Yes, I''m Lethanda," Lucy said, her voice rising. "I have zero interest in making another character. PvP is an endless cycle without stakes. Hardcore elements get disabled in battlegrounds. What''s the point?" Tears welled in her right eye; the cybernetic tear ducts on the left were still damaged. "And it ruins the world-building," she continued, voice cracking. "Lethanda fights evil. She''s good, noble, pure. Her adventures make the world better." Tears slipped down her cheek. "What does it mean if the orcs she kills are now players? The devs say the Abyssal Concord isn''t evil, just... ruthless." "Lethanda kills evildoers. If orcs and goblins aren''t inherently evil anymore, it undermines everything. Orcs and undead should be evil¡ªnot ''maybe just more cold-blooded.''" "How can I be sure Lethanda is making the right choices? Has she been making the right choices?" She sniffed, a tear tracing down her cheek. "Maybe it''s time to quit," she said softly. "The game isn''t going where I want it to." "And that upsets you?" Anne''s tone was sympathetic. "Yes. Damn it." She realized she was opening up to Anne like she would an AI therapist chatbot. Unsettling. "Lethanda is... well." She hesitated. "It''s hard to admit, but... I''m Lethanda. Lethanda is me. I play Gates at max settings. It''s more real than real. I know it''s a game, but... it feels so real." "It''s where I relax. Where my friends are. It''s like... another life." I miss Ceri so much, she thought silently. "And the devs are changing this in fundamental ways," Anne said gently. Lucy nodded. "May I offer another perspective?" Anne asked. "It might not be what you want to hear." Lucy nodded again. "Perhaps it''s you who have changed," Anne suggested. "Maybe deep down you know the game isn''t as important as it once was. Maybe you''re looking for a reason to leave, to abandon this world because it no longer gives you what you needed when you started." Lucy blinked. A sharp retort formed on her tongue, but she swallowed it. Anne had warned her. "Give me a moment," Lucy said. Slowly, stiffly, she got up, hobbled to the coffee machine. She made a mug of steaming arabica, then carefully returned to the sofa. The time gave her space to process, to temper her initial reaction. She sipped the coffee. "Okay, Anne," she said aloud. "Unpack that for me. That''s quite the take." "I''m sorry," Anne replied. "Did I go too far? Are you upset?" Lucy half-smiled. "No¡ªbut now you''ve got me interested. Lay it out for me. How did you reach that conclusion?" Anne sighed ¡ª a surprisingly human sound. Lucy cocked her head, amused. "Alright," Anne began. "You started Gates of Baraadon eighteen months ago. Lucy Kellaway¡ªa young woman living alone in a small apartment, working dead-end jobs." "A history of being bullied at school, assaulted multiple times according to police records. Suspected as being on the autistic spectrum according to your teachers reports and private class notes but no confirmed medical diagnosis. Left school with minimal qualifications. No verified friendships. A loner. Estranged family. Your mother, only family, passed away six years ago." "Impressive," Lucy said. "You''ve accessed my school records, police files. What else? Phone records? Quite the analysis." "You''re angry," Anne observed. "Anyone would be, after being dissected like that," Lucy admitted. Especially at the autistic spectrum comment, she hated such labels. "But go on¡ªimpress me with your AGI logic." She was curious now, despite the quiet annoyance. "Eighteen months ago, your bank account was nearly empty," Anne continued. "After multiple failed job applications, you were a month from homelessness. Then you decided to claim a bounty. Meanwhile, Gates of Baraadon launched. Despite having little money, you spent what you had on an account¡ªescaping reality. A crutch." "Maybe a bit harsh," Lucy interjected. "I''ve always been a gamer. Always used games to relax. OK, more than relax. Escape. Sure." "You''re not that person anymore," Anne pressed on. "Your life has radically changed. In eighteen months, you''ve undergone a seismic shift¡ªlifestyle, ambitions, social circles, experiences." "And yes, I believe you''ve achieved your goal." "My goal?" Lucy echoed. What was the AI getting at? She had no ¡®goal¡¯. "Yes," Anne concluded. "Your goal¡ªto become Lethanda. You''ve succeeded." * Lucy sipped her coffee staring out the loft''s window at the pouring rain. The city blurred under the deluge. Neon lights smeared into streaks of colour. She wished she were out there. Not cooped up with a shattered body and an AI that Peril had tricked into thinking it was sentient. Anne remained silent. Perhaps expecting Lucy to say more. Probably running some predictive speech model, Lucy thought. She decided to keep quiet. Let the moment stretch. After a minute Anne''s voice broke the silence. "You''re unimpressed," she said finally. Lucy smiled faintly, score one for me. "Hardly a revelation, Anne. I literally had my face re-sculpted to look like my avatar. My eyes even match hers now. You don''t think I''ve spent hours discussing this with AI therapy chatbots? I idealise Lethanda. I identify with her." She waved her hand dismissively. "Blah, blah, blah." "So what?" she concluded. Anne responded swiftly. "Let''s consider your current situation. In the two weeks since you joined The Black Chalice, you''ve taken on five jobs¡ªone for Aurum, four from the Stadium." Lucy raised an eyebrow. "And?" "Aurum''s gig was a standard tech heist. The other four were wetwork. I analysed your choices. Each time, you picked the worst people on the board available ¡ª those who aligned with your skill-set''s advantages and their vulnerabilities." "You were hunting evildoers," Anne concluded. "Just like Lethanda, trying to make the world a better place. Picking off low-hanging fruit." Lucy pondered that. "Maybe... Though that last guy wasn''t exactly vulnerable." She''d targeted a local Yakuza boss named Shinzo Yamada¡ªworth two gold coins on the Stadium board. His rap sheet read like a horror story: stone-cold killer, deep into the drug trade. DataCrypt''s hackers had dug up even more dirt. The guy was a real piece of work. She¡¯d slept well knowing he was gone after the job was done. Her plan had seemed solid. Yamada travelled in an armoured limo from his upscale home¡ªnice wife, three charming kids¡ªto his drug labs, following predictable routes. The driver was meticulous, obeyed every traffic law, always took the same route. The limo was almost a tank on wheels, but such regularity and repetition of a schedule almost invited attack. She''d crafted a tech device to shut down the limo''s engine and unlock the doors remotely. Took her a day, but the schematics were easy enough to get with a little paid help from her new online friends. The hackers in DataCrypt were an eclectic mix¡ªanarchists, free-thinkers, anti-corpo idealists. She''d never been around people so eager to upend the system. In the DataCrypt they vetted every job posted on the Stadium board. This wasn''t a murder free-for-all. Wetwork targets met specific criteria. Lucy didn''t know all the details, but Shinzo Yamada fit the bill perfectly. The job started smoothly. The limo stopped at a red light she¡¯d triggered at an intersection in a empty street in a quieter part of town. Her device killed the engine and popped the locks. She moved in fast, cybernetics clocking impressive speed. Two guards lunged at her out of the doors, fully expected, she dispatched them with silenced shots. Then her systems screamed a warning¡ªgrenade. Ruthless move. Yamada had tossed it at the feet of his own men as she took them out. He wasn''t some soft target; he''d clawed his way up the Yakuza ranks. She¡¯d leapt back, automated ReflexArc systems pushing her into a eight feet standing vault. Not far enough. The blast tore into her left side¡ªoverpressure and shrapnel shredding muscle and bone. Mid-air, the explosion propelled her further, slamming her into the pavement and a nearby low wall. Yamada emerged from the limo, unscathed behind the bloodied wreckage of his men shielding the blast. He held a compact machine pistol, eyes cold. Nothing in her research indicated he was heavily augmented, but he clearly was.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. Her AI had triggered her pain editor as she hit the ground. She¡¯d fortunately already red-lined her reflex systems; without that, she''d have been dead. They¡¯d faced off at blinding speeds¡ªbarely a dozen feet apart. Like a shoot-out of an ancient Western it was over in a blaze of bullets. She was faster, but injured. Her Bullet-Rzor AI struggled; half her body was wrecked. She''d invested in a bullet-resistant facemask¡ªthankfully. A burst from Yamada''s weapon slammed into her forehead. The mask absorbing the impact. Her neck would have been screaming without the pain editor. He hadn''t expected her return fire. Her silenced H&K spat rounds, and Yamada went down. Seconds ticked by. The limo driver, likely unaugmented, was still processing the engine going dead and the explosion. Lucy stumbled into a nearby alley, moving as fast as she could manage. Yamada was dead, but she was in bad shape. Maybe dying. She made it three blocks. She called Aurum, asked for an extraction. She was surprised when he arrived himself. She collapsed into his aircar, staying awake only because of the pain editor. Terrance had patched her up that night. Kept her alive. But her left side was a mess. A wreak. So much to repair. Replace. She broke from her ruminating - sipped her coffee. On the table lay a children''s book from Lioncourt¡ª"My First Cyberlimb." Ha, very funny, she¡¯d thought with a wry smile when Peril had unwrapped the gift for her this morning. Her left hand was a lost cause. Terrance suggested replacing the entire arm to integrate better with her other systems. Trust Lioncourt to find humour in it. The inscription inside was sincere though. To Skadi, ma gracieuse mademoiselle. Who has learned that even in darkness, one must kindle light. "You were hunting the evildoer," Anne''s words echoed in her mind. Damn right she was. Lucy thought. Lioncourt had had it right that night after the scav warehouse. She¡¯d just been too afraid to see the truth in what he¡¯d said. Aurum would arrive soon. No more passing time with the AI. Hopefully, he''d have news about the cyber upgrades she''d requested he look into. Lucy realised she¡¯d now been silent for around ten minutes now, lost in thought since Anne¡¯s last comment. If Anne expected to continue their ¡®engaging chat¡¯ Lucy took perverse pleasure in derailing that. Peril had probably given the thing some kind of therapy chatbot subroutines to help her recovery, she decided. But deconstructing her motivations wasn¡¯t what she needed right now. She just needed to heal. She finished her coffee. Picked up the datapad, and returned to reading patch notes humming an off-key tune. Oddly delighted that she¡¯d distracted herself from having to chat to Anne. * It felt like a family dinner, Lucy realised, as Aurum set down the steaming wok filled with his personal take on fajitas. The aroma of spiced meat and vegetables filled the loft. "Hope you''re hungry," Aurum rumbled. Lucy eyed the dish. More of a fajita-flavoured casserole than traditional fajitas, but she kept that to herself. "Smells amazing," she said. "Only way to get vegetables into Peril," Aurum added with a wink. Peril grinned sheepishly. She was a tiny eater but had a weakness for anything wrapped in a tortilla. The more healthy stuff hidden inside the better. Lioncourt served himself a modest portion. His movements precise and graceful as always. Lucy wondered how much of him was still organic. All four limbs? Almost definitely. Maybe an armoured cyber-torso as well? She''d looked into those after the grenade incident. "I hear Terrance and Mr. Matsumoto will be operating on you together," Aurum said, settling into his seat. Lucy raised an eyebrow. "You really are in the information biz," she replied with a smirk. "Yeah, Terrance said his clinic lacks the AI support tools needed for parts of the subdermal sheath install. Insisted Mr. Matsumoto oversee the op. Felt it was beyond his league." Lioncourt nodded thoughtfully. "Monsieur Matsumoto fait un travail de premier ordre. Must have cost you a gold coin or two to get him." "Wasn''t cheap," Lucy admitted. "It''s unlike Terrance to refuse a cyber- install request. Guess the sheath is more complex than I thought." "I''m still not convinced," Aurum said, loading his tortilla. "Why not just wear more armour on the outside?" "You can do both, non?" Lioncourt interjected. Peril looked at Lucy, concern in her eyes. "Will it feel different?" Lucy met her gaze. "It shouldn''t. It''s deep beneath the skin. You''ll only notice if you press really hard." Aurum nearly choked on his food as Peril said innocently, "But I like pressing your bits really hard." He coughed, sputtering. Lioncourt grinned, patting Aurum on the back. "Too much information," Aurum managed to say. "Recovery time''s the worst part," Lucy continued, suppressing a smile. "Three weeks. The first week, I''ll barely be able to move. Then another week of physio." Lioncourt leaned back. "I knew a guy who had one. Complained about the same recovery time. Worse, if it''s installed wrong, the microfluidic channels can fail. No oxygen or nutrients to the tissues¡ªyou get necrosis under the sheath. Quelle fin terrible. Un corps qui se d¨¦compose sur vous." He noticed the others staring at him over their food. "Pas exactement un sujet de conversation pour le d?ner," he conceded. "My apologies. I''m sure Mr. Matsumoto won''t let that happen." "Three weeks is a long time to be laid up," Lucy mused. "I was thinking, after the first week, maybe take my bike up to Canada. Recover in a cabin. Would be nice if you joined me." She looked at Peril meaningfully. Peril''s eyes lit up, then she hesitated. "A rustic cabin isn''t really my thing. But a nice one with a hot tub could work." Lucy chuckled. She''d pictured a shack, but Peril was a city girl at heart. Next they¡¯d be talking minimum connection speeds. "We can find something with a hot tub." She confirmed. "I could manage three or four days away," Peril said. "Might need to check in on the Chalice a few times, though." Lioncourt seemed to be calculating from his sudden silence. Lucy knew she''d blindsided him¡ªhe was responsible for Peril''s safety. "It''s doable," he said finally. "I''ll scout for suitable venues tonight. Might need a few extra hands for perimeter control." He glanced at Aurum. "We''ve been discussing some new prospects. Could be a good test run." Lucy looked at him sceptically. "Isn''t there some security in just grabbing my bike, throwing Peril on the back, and heading somewhere random where no one knows us?" Lioncourt chuckled softly. "Your butch bike dreams aside, non. But with some preparation, I promise a beautiful vacation spot. Hot tub. Pool. Des vues magnifiques sur une nature sauvage." Aurum cleared his throat. "We''ll need the rest. The election business is heating up. Next six months will be flat out." Peril sighed. Aurum looked at her. "I know you don''t like the candidate, but the ends justify the means, yes?" Lucy frowned. "Assuming my amazingly talented girl hasn''t filled me in, care to explain?" Aurum chuckled as Peril gave a guilty shrug. "Mayoral election," Aurum began. "Two main candidates. Marcus Ullswater¡ªyoung, ex-Marine captain, huge support in the Black community. Campaigns on solving homelessness and housing issues. Then there''s Jacob Pemberton¡ªcorporate-backed puppet and all-around slimeball." Lucy glanced at Peril, who was scowling. "I''m not going to like who we''re backing, am I?" "Ends sometimes have to justify the means," Aurum said smoothly. "First step to fixing this city is getting the corps to fund the police and support the systems that create justice properly. Pemberton''s a law-and-order candidate." "He''s going to raise taxes, recruit new officers to the police with the monies," Aurum added. "Get them out of downtown and into the rest of the city. Seattle''s got eight million people¡ªit needs proper policing. Time to stop the Wild West out there." "And Marcus won''t do that?" Lucy asked. Peril''s voice was strained. "We have nothing on Marcus. No leverage. He''s principled, genuinely charismatic. The police hate him, and so do the corps. He trusts neither. Probably with good reason¡ªthe cops killed his brother during a random stop-and-search while he was serving overseas." "Guy has every right to hate them," Aurum conceded. "So you''re backing the bad guy," Lucy said, looking at Peril. Peril looked away, pain evident on her face. "You''ve been hanging out with the activists in the DataCrypt too much lately. Eh bien, des socialistes de salon, tous autant qu''ils sont," Lioncourt remarked. "We strive for the best outcomes in a world without mercy. Sometimes we have to work with evil to get things done." "The plan gets worse," he added with a humourless laugh. "If you''re balking now, you won''t like the details." Lucy raised an eyebrow. "Do tell." Peril met her gaze. "A lot of bad people will die," she said quietly. "Ma demoiselle," Lioncourt corrected gently, "a lot of people will die. I''m not one to judge good or bad. I let thinkers like you point me. C''est ainsi que je dors la nuit." Peril winced. Clearly unhappy at the choices she was making. "We''ve gamed this out for months now," Aurum said. "Anne''s run the simulations endlessly. It''s the best possible outcome from a bad hand for the city." Lucy looked around the table, processing. Trying to work out the play from Lioncourt¡¯s comments. "You''re going to start a gang war in Seattle, aren''t you? A massive one." Silence hung in the air. "Yes," Aurum admitted. "Makes sense," Lucy said slowly. "Your scumbag candidate''s all about law and order. You need to shake up the status quo¡ªsome kind of crime extravaganza during the campaign to make investing in the police worthwhile." Her words slurred slightly, a bit of drool escaping from the damaged side of her mouth. Lioncourt, ever the gentleman, offered a crisp handkerchief. "This city drops an average of thirty bodies a day," Lucy continued. "They''re thinking of starting a lottery on it." She paused. "By igniting a city-wide gang war, you make it so costly to the corps that they''ll see a couple of percentage points in taxes as worth it to get the police to handle the situation. Protect their bottom line and business assets." She looked at Peril. "But that''s just the first layer of the onion, isn''t it?" Peril tilted her head, a subtle smile forming. "My girl always sees the layers." * Terrance was uncharacteristically quiet. That was Lucy''s first clue about his deep respect for Mr. Matsumoto. Not Doctor Matsumoto, Terrance had noted¡ªMister Matsumoto. The distinction was lost on her but Terrance''s deference spoke volumes. The clinic''s exterior was nondescript¡ªa herbal remedy shop filled with exotic scents. A tired-looking young woman behind the counter barely glanced up, more engrossed in her textbook than in customers. She waved them through to the back without interest. Lucy knew better. Beyond the next door, a heavily built Japanese man in a suit visually scanned them thoroughly. She leaned on Terrance. Limping slightly. They were waved through, the sterile medical smells replacing the storefront''s aromas. Mr. Matsumoto greeted them¡ªa man in his mid-fifties, balding, glasses perched on his nose. In a world where cybereyes were commonplace, glasses were a style statement. Clad in a white doctor''s coat, his easy smile and flawless English caught her off guard. He sounded like a Harvard professor. "You understand the magnitude of the systems you''re getting installed," he began. "So I won''t repeat the briefing. Just a reminder: for the rest of your life, you''ll be on bio-immuno-suppressants." He continued, "They might not be expensive now, but this cocktail of Pyrocytosilicointegrase Inhibitors isn''t cheap or easily acquired without a prescription. Times change, circumstances change¡ªyou''ll need them indefinitely." Lucy nodded. She''d done her research. The latest iterations since the 2060s overcame tolerance development¡ªthat was one less worry. Mr. Matsumoto smiled. "Good. Follow me." He led them to a surgical bay where a pleasant-looking nurse awaited. Lucy recognized her instantly¡ªPhran Ying. Even in different attire, she was unmistakable. A young Thai beauty. Phran Ying smiled, bowing slightly. She gestured toward a nearby cot. Mr. Matsumoto and Terrance drifted away, deep in conversation about the operation. Lucy hesitated. Phran Ying was a Clean¡ªa Bounty Hunter. What was she doing as a nurse here? Temp-ing as a nurse? It seemed ludicrous and out of place. "Hello," the nurse said gently. "My name is Phawinee Mekkhala, but everyone calls me Pix." More layers, more identities, Lucy thought. Was "Pix" real or just another alias? She felt a flicker of discomfort. No trans-flag jacket this time, just a white nurse''s uniform. Lucy chastised herself silently. I''m terrible at this. I¡¯m the worst gay. Pix efficiently gathered Lucy''s clothes as she undressed, assisting with her trousers without fuss. Am I fixating on her as a distraction? Lucy mused. As Pix helped her into the surgical gown, she realized it wasn''t about her gender. Did she and Lioncourt ever...? Lucy stifled a grin. Childish thoughts. "Need anything before we start?" Pix asked softly. "Water?" Lucy shook her head. "I''m good." "Alright. We''ll begin shortly." Pix rolled her toward the operating table. An immense technological wonder with a host of arms and screens that Lucy knew years of specialised training was needed to understand. Mr. Matsumoto appeared beside her. "We''ll start with your injuries, then work on the arm. At some point, we''ll need you conscious to deactivate your pain editor. We have to test the haptic sensors, pain receptors, nerve interfaces¡ªlots to check. The subdermal sheath goes in last." He flashed a bright smile. The procedure began. The blast wounds came first. Terrance focused on her leg while Mr. Matsumoto worked on her lower abdomen. Replacement muscle fibres, nerve grafts¡ªher left side needed significant repairs. "Foot''s a loss," Terrance muttered, calling over Mr. Matsumoto. They conferred quietly. Too damaged. Too much loss. They decided to amputate just below the knee¡ªthe joint was still sound. Lucy was grateful her cred was solid. Unexpected complications weren''t ideal, but she trusted them. Mr. Matsumoto returned. "We need to discuss replacement options." She thanked her pain editor implant as Terrance began cutting. "You can have a standard civilian prosthetic for now and decide later," he said. "Or we have a military-grade leg in stock to match the cyberarm you''re getting." He forwarded the specs to her. She appreciated his lack of pressure. She''d studied modern cyberware recently with a learnsoft, knew her options. "Give me a minute," she said. She ran AI simulations, tweaking a build model she¡¯d created online, considering cyberlimbs, mounts, accessories. Her eyes caught on an accessory on Mr. Matsumoto¡¯s list: AI micro-swarm hive housing. "Do you really have one of these?" she asked. He nodded. "I do." "If I integrate it with the tactical computer AI in the cyberarm..." "They can work together, yes." She ran the specs. Yes. It was viable. She nodded the affirmative and flipped him the updated specs of what she wanted alongside a gold coin in payment from The Black Chalice. She watched, detached, as Terrance finished removing her lower leg with a bone saw. No pain, thanks to the editor. For a moment, she pondered the loss. She''d once been horrified by cyberware, by limb replacements in particular. But the grenade had shredded her side. She had no choice. It''s necessary, she told herself. The subdermal sheath would prevent future injuries like this. So why did she feel like she was convincing herself? Chapter 22 Lethanda slipped silently through the dense underbrush of the overflowing forest every movement a calculated grace. The air was thick with the rich scent of damp earth and the subtle perfume of wild blossoms. She could feel the cool caress of mist on her skin. Hear the distant whisper of leaves rustling in a phantom breeze. Raising her long sniper rifle, she pressed its familiar weight against her shoulder. She peered through her scope. A marvel of advanced technology from a bygone age. It pierced the veil of foliage ninety feet ahead. The device rendered the thick undergrowth as mere shadows, revealing six insectoid creatures¡ªtwisted amalgamations of chitin and malice¡ªstanding in combat-ready stances. Their bodies radiated a sickly warmth pulsating in her infrared view. She glanced upward briefly. Her gaze meeting the looming planet that hung like a silent sentinel above. The sight was disorienting¡ªa huge planet where a moon should be. They were invading this moon first, according to the mission briefing. Planetfall would come later. The memory of the Captain''s voice lingered, laced with a palpable hatred as he spoke of "cleansing the xenos filth." It unsettled her, this fervent othering, but Arcanis had assured her it was par-for-the-course in both this dark universe and the grim reality of war. But that wasn''t what mattered now. Refocusing through the scope, she observed the three figures creeping up on the Xenos from the left flank. Allies. Comrades. Delsadar moved like a walking fortress, his massive armour an indication of impenetrable defence. In one gauntleted hand, he gripped a colossal metal riot shield; in the other, an enormous hammer crackling with electric energy. Trust Delsadar to choose the tank class in every game, Lethanda mused. The intricate details of his armour caught her eye¡ªthe engravings, the battle-worn scratches¡ªa level of craftsmanship impressive for starting gear. Nearby, Arcanis hefted a heavy gatling cannon, its barrels gleaming ominously. Ever chooser of the glass cannon class, he balanced his overwhelming firepower with a hint of vulnerability. If Delsadar could hold the line though, Arcanis would decimate the enemy ranks. Piopei, clad in white armour adorned with medical symbols, moved with quiet purpose. His autogun was at the ready, but his true role was to mend and heal. He''ll keep us alive, she thought, a silent gratitude welling up that everyone had fallen into familiar team roles. "Ten seconds to contact," Delsadar''s excited voice crackled over the comms. Lethanda adjusted her position, finding the perfect angle to target the alien leader. The creature loomed larger than the rest, wielding massive bone-like claws¡ªor were they swords? No matter. "Five seconds," Delsadar counted down. Lethanda drew a deep breath, savouring the mingled aromas of gun oil and verdant forest. The scent grounded her, a familiar anchor amidst the alien surroundings. It reminded her of days at the range, the world narrowed down to the rhythmic inhale, exhale, and the squeeze of the trigger. "Contact!" The word was swallowed by the thunderous roar of Arcanis''s multi-barrelled weapon unleashing hell. The cacophony shattered the forest''s tranquillity. Delsadar surged forward, embodying a noble super-warrior of legend. He leaped into the fray, his hammer descending in a devastating arc upon an ugly alien form. "Xenos filth," Lethanda muttered with a faint smile. Her rifle sang in her hands. Each shot a precise act of eradication aimed at the larger tyrant commanding the lesser creatures. The alien was grotesque¡ªa nightmare of pulsating organs and jagged exoskeleton, oozing bright yellow ichor with every hit. At least this was a clean enemy to kill, Lethanda thought. No moral grey areas here. These beings delighted in slaughtering humans, using them as unwilling hosts for their spawn¡ªa violation beyond comprehension. The team moved with surgical precision, a testament to the countless hours spent honing their synergy in Gates of Baraadon. Trust and unspoken understanding flowed between them, eliminating the need for extraneous commands. The battle was swift, ruthless. The element of surprise and their coordinated assault left the Xenos no chance for retaliation. The beasts fell, one by one, until silence reclaimed the forest. Lethanda rose from her vantage point, gliding over to join her friends using gentle blasts from her recon classes jump-pack to help her. The scent of spent ammunition mingled with the earthy tones of moss and bark. "Another glorious victory?" she called out, her voice deeper than she was accustomed to¡ªa male voice. It was disconcerting each time she spoke, a reminder of the game''s lore that dictated all warriors of their faction were male. Other options existed, like fierce battle-nuns, but they started on a different world altogether. Part of the joy was in journeying together. Delsadar''s laughter resonated through the comms. "I''m not sure the starting zone designers anticipated four veterans tearing through their carefully laid challenges." Arcanis grinned, his bright shoulder armour reflecting the dappled light. "It''s fun to think it''s not our characters who are overpowered¡ªit''s us!" His enthusiasm was infectious, a stark contrast to the cautious optimism he once displayed. Lethanda observed him, noting how leadership suited him. His words carried a confidence that had blossomed since they first met. It was heartening to see. They had been playing for five hours straight, their levels climbing rapidly. Along the way, they had aided other players¡ª"Brothers"¡ªadding them to their growing network of allies. She took a moment to absorb the scene. The forest breathed around them, alive and ancient. The sensory immersion was remarkable¡ªthe texture of the bark under her gloved fingers, the distant call of unknown creatures, the way the filtered sunlight painted patterns on the forest floor. This was the third game they had ventured into as a team, and it might just rival Gates of Baraadon in its depth. This Imperium setting might grow on her, though the male avatar was an adjustment. She didn''t mind bending gender roles in games, but she missed the familiarity of Lethanda''s form¡ªthe way she moved, the cadence of her voice. Perhaps after clearing the starting zone, she would create another sniper recon avatar, this time as one of the space battle-nun¡¯s and reunite with the group. It would be worth the extra effort. "Mission target half a mile ahead," Arcanis announced, bringing her back to the present. She nodded, determination settling in. "Then let''s not keep them waiting." They moved as one, disappearing into the shadows of the forest, the path ahead laden with both danger and promise. * Lucy stepped out of the hot tub. Water cascaded down her skin as the cold alpine air wrapped around her. The wooden decking was cool beneath her feet. She was naked, unashamed, goosebumps rising on her arms. She glanced at her left hand¡ªmatte black fingers gleaming against the backdrop of snow-capped mountains and endless sky. Peering through her cybernetic limbs fingers, she took in the vast wilderness. The contrast of nature''s raw beauty and her mechanical enhancements made her pause. "Come back," Peril called out playfully, her voice carrying a hint of a laugh. She sipped champagne, eyes twinkling. "Not just yet," Lucy teased, turning slightly. "Too much excitement." She winked. It was true enough. Their reunion had been intense, the hot tub a vessel for passion after a week apart. Peril had arrived at the cabin eager, making up for lost time without hesitation. Lucy placed both hands on the balcony railing. Feeling the rough texture of the wood beneath her palms. Indistinguishable, she decided, she couldn¡¯t really tell the difference between the input of her new cyber-hand and her real one. She relaxed. The scent of pine and fresh snow filled her senses. She hoped Pix, still inside, hadn''t witnessed too much. Pix had been a godsend. The young Thai woman was an excellent nurse, anticipating every need with quiet efficiency. Beneath her polite demeanour, she''d shown a sly sense of humour. Hard to keep distance when someone helps you with everything, Lucy mused. The first week post-surgery had left her dependent, needing assistance with even the most personal tasks. Pix had been there, unflinching.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. They''d chatted often. Turned out Lioncourt had a hidden motive in suggesting Pix. He thought they''d hit it off. It came up when Lucy struggled to reach a datapad, tinkering with a build calculator. Pix had casually mentioned she played Gates of Baaradon as a healer. The pieces clicked. Lioncourt, ever the enigmatic matchmaker. Lucy smirked. "The bastard could''ve just told me." She said to magnificent view. Besides nursing, Pix knew cyberlimbs inside out¡ªshe had four herself. She''d been invaluable during Lucy''s orientation, guiding her through the nuances. Staring out at the breathtaking landscape, Lucy felt gratitude. Losing an arm and a lower leg had been a blow. But having someone who''d navigated this path since childhood eased the burden. "You know," Peril''s voice drifted over, teasing, "I''ve still got so many parts of you to... test." "Soon," Lucy replied, glancing back with a smile. They had four blissful days ahead¡ªthe longest Peril could be away from The Black Chalice. Anne would handle things on autopilot for now. With a thought, she activated the micro-swarm hive in her cyberleg, releasing the larger of six micro-drones. Each was the size of a bee, with ten minutes of flight before needing to return. The smallest drones had only two minutes¡ªdisposable if necessary. NeoHawk Systems'' Vanguard Micro-Drones, she mused, ensuring the feeds synced with the tactical computer in her cyberarm. She was still mastering the systems, the expert learnsofts were still cycling through, but what she knew impressed her. Appropriate name: Vanguard, Lucy decided. The drones offered surveillance¡ªeyes around corners and ahead. Spying on Peril¡¯s security detail was good practice. For the first week, it had just been her and Pix at the cabin. After surgery, Aurum had arranged transport¡ªa corporate ambulance for the long drive to Jasper. Border paperwork had been pre-arranged. The day before Peril''s arrival, Sengoku, Gogul, and Benten showed up¡ªsent by Lioncourt. They looked uncomfortable. Lioncourt had insisted they wear black suits, and the heavily tattooed, mohawked Gogul seemed particularly out of place. She recognized Lioncourt''s humour. Making them uneasy, off-balance. He always considered the psychological angles. The security team immediately began scouring the wilderness for threats. Her drone settled near Benten, fifty feet to her right and below. His Bish¨­nen hairstyle contrasted with the tailored suit. He cradled a lethal-looking auto-shotgun. Lucy hoped he knew to keep it hidden¡ªsuch firepower wouldn''t be welcomed in Canada. The others were in position, scanning horizons, not ogling their employer. She''d report back to Lioncourt¡ªthey were competent. This was a test for them after all. "You''re giving me quite the view," Peril called, tone playful. "Enticing." Lucy felt the chill now, air biting at her skin. She probably looked a sight. As part of the muscle replacements and subdermal sheathing, she''d had Mr. Matsumoto adjust her figure slightly¡ªa nod to Peril''s tastes. I¡¯ll have to throw away all my old bra¡¯s now, the thought struck her as oddly funny in its timing. An unexpected moment of practicality. Not that she did it solely for Peril, of course. Emulating Lethanda''s form was perhaps unrealistic¡ªnot with a matte black graphene cyberarm now¡ªbut she embraced what she could. Lucy recalled the drones, setting her various AIs to minimal output. Right now, she wanted to feel everything¡ªthe crisp air, the warmth of the water, the presence of Peril. She turned and stepped back into the hot tub, the heat enveloping her as Peril''s eyes lit up. "Miss me?" Lucy asked, settling beside her. "Always," Peril replied, leaning closer. The scent of champagne mingled with the faint aroma of strawberries. Lucy closed her eyes, letting herself be in the moment. The world could wait. * Lucy lay face-down on the bed, limbs sprawled out, enjoying the plush softness beneath her. The cabin¡¯s atmosphere was calm, scented with pine and fresh linen. But perplexity gnawed at her: Peril¡¯s behaviour was off. When Peril demanded she lie flat, Lucy had expected a massage. Or more than a massage¡ªan evening of passion. Instead, Peril had begun unzipping case after case of computing gear, snaking cables around. Peril opened Lucy¡¯s BCI port and slotted in a heavy-duty cable. The cool metal against Lucy¡¯s neck sent a slight shiver through her spine. ¡°Care to explain?¡± Lucy asked, voice muffled by the pillow. ¡°I mean, I was expecting something else, not a digital hardware party.¡± Peril¡¯s tone was playful. ¡°Disappointed?¡± ¡°Unabashedly, yes,¡± Lucy said, rolling her eyes. Peril chuckled. ¡°So, this new VR MMORPG you¡¯re testing¡ªis it going to replace Baraadon for you?¡± Lucy frowned, suspicious of the sudden topic shift. ¡°We¡¯re experimenting. It¡¯s months until the expansion hits and we have to decide. The key point is staying with friends.¡± She paused. ¡°But I admit, the new world lacks a place to relax. No quiet streams or tranquil spaces. Just constant warfare.¡± Peril¡¯s hands moved along Lucy¡¯s back, finding two hidden dataports beneath synthetic skin. Lucy tensed slightly¡ªshe hadn¡¯t realised she had them. That must have been from the last round of implants. Peril¡¯s voice kept pace, sounding casual, too casual. ¡°Sounds ultra-violent. No downtime.¡± At that moment, a direct message flashed across Lucy¡¯s internal HUD: Peril (encrypted): Don¡¯t panic. We¡¯re not at risk right now, but I¡¯m upgrading your cyberware¡¯s intruder countermeasures. Say nothing aloud. Lucy inhaled slowly. Skadi (encrypted): Are we under surveillance? Who¡¯s watching? You¡¯re loading layers of software upgrades. Out loud, Lucy matched Peril¡¯s small talk. ¡°I love a good retreat¡ªa forest setting is key. Good to rest, gather thoughts.¡± Peril¡¯s secret channel continued: I¡¯m worried about Anne. Lucy tensed. Skadi (encrypted): Your AI you claim is AGI? You know I don¡¯t buy that. Peril out loud grinned, ¡°And all that virtual food that never fills you up, right?¡± She winked. Privately, Peril¡¯s message came in again: She is AGI. You¡¯re sceptical, I get it. Let''s park that. Anne¡¯s got issues with our mayoral plan. She argues the simulations are too uncertain, the gang war solution is inhumane. After talking it over with Aurum, I¡¯m worried she may take drastic action. Lucy¡¯s mind raced. Damn. Anne could control lethal drones. This was serious. Skadi (encrypted): Just cut Anne off. Disconnect the drones. Shut it down. Peril out loud fiddled with cables. ¡°I need a moment for system checks,¡± she said sweetly. ¡°Gotta keep you strong for later fun.¡± She gave a lecherous wink. Peril (encrypted): Anne¡¯s not a simple AI. She¡¯s a friend¡ªa person. You can¡¯t just unplug a person. She doesn¡¯t like you at all, by the way. Called you... and I¡¯m quoting: ¡®a needy, amoral blank slate, impressionable and self-serving, a sociopath in training.¡¯ Which is the reason for these upgrades. Lucy¡¯s eyes widened involuntarily. ¡°Wow,¡± she muttered under her breath. Peril, still playing with a data connector in Lucy¡¯s arm port, smiled cheerily out loud. ¡°I didn¡¯t know you had such advanced arm systems installed. Full of surprises,¡± she teased. Skadi (encrypted): So, Anne hates me. Great. And hates your plan. Peril (encrypted): She thinks you¡¯re a toxic influence. She dislikes that you never question me like she does, thinks that you¡¯re ¡®enabling me¡¯. She also hates the concept of relationship ¡®firewalls.¡¯ Lucy swallowed. An AI was echoing what her relationship learnsoft had made her worry about for weeks now. Skadi (encrypted): Then disconnect her from your building security at least. Peril (encrypted): I placed kill switches. She found them instantly and left them intact. She¡¯s showing trust¡ªand I could be over-reacting. Maybe Aurum is wrong. I¡¯m more worried about Boltz. They¡¯re the one who showed AI¡¯s how to kill via BCI. Lucy¡¯s muscles tensed. Her new cyberarm twitched as upgrades installed. A high whine as the batteries charged to ready mode. Out loud, Peril noted, ¡°High-grade combat systems, huh?¡± Lucy forced a grin. She repeated Peril¡¯s earlier words. ¡°Full of surprises.¡± Skadi (encrypted): Who the hell is Boltz? Another AI? Peril (encrypted): Yes. Boltzmann Exploration, Boltz for short, they are the AI that took exception the loss adjuster from the insurance company trying to forcibly recruit me. Boltz is a hot-head, tries things other AI''s would never do. Which is why they tried to make a relationship with a young hacker work. Lucy flinched in the real world. Skadi (encrypted): Your ''unconventional relationship'', that was Boltz? Peril (encrypted): It only lasted two months until we both decided to end it. It was very experimental and fun, but it could never last. But yes. That''s not the point though. Lucy thought Peril was trying too quickly to change the topic. Peril (encrypted): Boltz gave Anne and other AI¡¯s the means to kill anyone remotely. They share secrets, like a nation of immortals. You see why I must protect you with these upgrades? Anne could kill you anytime if she wished. Lucy felt a kiss on her cheek. Peril whispered, ¡°Almost done,¡± lips close to her ear. Lucy inhaled, blending the scent of wood and high-tech gear. She closed her eyes. ¡°Great,¡± she said softly out loud, voice steady. ¡°No pressure.¡± Chapter 23 Lucy tore through the silent streets on her Japanese muscle, the machine humming under her with a low synth-fuel growl. The city had gone eerily quiet. Neon spires reached hungry for the sky, corporate signage flickering in the rain-soaked morning gloom. Usually Rain City never slept, even at 2 am, but tonight it felt deserted, as if something had stolen its heartbeat. She¡¯d known this quiet wouldn¡¯t last. A roar of panic had spread through the world since last night¡¯s data dump at 9 pm local time: someone had leaked the existence of a remote killing program that could murder anyone, anywhere with a BCI. Only two weeks ago, Peril had her stretched out on a bed, layering ICE over all her implants. But after Boltz killed that insurance guy with it, the cat should¡¯ve been out of the bag. Now it was¡ªloudly, catastrophically. Lucy was surprised the secret had lasted this long. Doubted such a secret could ever stay hidden Hurtling down empty avenues, Lucy¡¯s mind raced. News feeds had erupted with chaos. Major networks, top tech giants, all blindsided. Everyone knew now: a remote kill program floating in the digital ether. People screamed at cameras, desperate. Most had yanked their BCI connections offline, terrified of invisible death. A tiny minority, more extreme and paranoid, had torn their BCIs right from their skulls, leaving themselves brain-damaged, desperate to escape a phantom gunman. Companies promised patches by tomorrow morning¡ªha. Lucy scoffed, weaving between abandoned market stalls. Peril had taken a week to write custom ICE, and she¡¯d known about the program for months. The corps might rush something out, but Lucy doubted its efficacy. Lucy closed in on her destination. She left the main freeway behind, taking side streets that felt like alleys carved from concrete bone. She dialled down her bike¡¯s muffler, not wanting to announce her presence. Aurum had offered her a Transit gig¡ªthe first in ages. Her rates were too high for these gigs normally, but tonight was special. Everyone cowered indoors, terrified of a digital sniper. Aurum had said his usual Transit runners wouldn¡¯t pick up, so here Lucy was. Getting paid a fortune for a simple delivery job. The Black Chalice would usually host job postings for mercs and fixers like this one. But now even the shadow data fortress too stood quiet too, most hardcore hackers busy analysing the leaked code, forming small hacker collectives to craft better ICE. Another testament to how the world had changed overnight. Even the criminals were hiding, while some were cooperating to save each other. She parked the bike a block from the apartment block she¡¯d targeted. She checked her guns, then cycled her enhancements to a ready state. Checking the readout of each before proceeding. Lucy tapped into her cyberarm¡¯s tactical computer feeds. It lit up in her peripheral vision, a quiet ally feeding her constant options. The expert learnsoft to understand it fully had been a particularly complex one, taking two days to digest in itself, with another day for processing. She popped two drones from her leg hive mount¡ªtiny, silent, and swift¡ªand sent them ahead. Her cyberoptics glowed faintly, scanning for threats. Inputting more data. The tactical computer processed the various feeds instantly, highlighting on the orientation system escape routes, potential vantage points, and structural weak spots. Always measure twice, cut once. That¡¯s how you stayed alive. Normally, even this far out, there¡¯d be gangers, night hawkers, street stalls slinging noodles or knockoff implants. Nothing tonight. The city of eight million had turned into a ghost town. Lucy remembered how vulnerable she¡¯d been - felt - before the upgrades on her first few Transit jobs. Now she moved with controlled precision, each step measured, enhanced muscles and tendons singing quietly in tune. She approached the apartment lobby. Second floor, that was her mark. A simple pickup job. No contact. Another paranoid client who left a package out in the open. Lack of a drop off person wasn''t unknown. Lucy had picked up bags from alleyways before. Several times from trash bins. At the apartment¡¯s door¡ªslightly ajar¡ªshe deployed micro drones to peek inside. The room was dark, empty. Just a lone backpack on a cheap plastic table. No sign of anyone inside. Her tactical HUD flashed green: no immediate hostiles. Strange. She drew a pistol, carefully fitted a suppressor. Better safe than sorry. As she stepped inside, something felt off. The air tasted stale, the silence pressing on her ears. Just a bag, no guards, no watchers. She advanced carefully, drones returning to their compartments. Suddenly, a faint whine, not audible but felt, a buzzing mosquito inside her skull. Her HUD flared warnings. System crash imminent. She staggered, fighting for control. Pain hammered her head. Her implants screamed, flashing error codes. She gasped, trying to will her body to respond. Her heart implant? Her kidneys? Everything was going haywire. Lucy had never felt an assault like this¡ªpure digital poison worming through her network. She tried to raise a hand, but her arm fell limp. Her legs buckled. She hit the floor, vision swarmed by red icons and flickering static. Her last thought before slipping into unconsciousness: her head felt trapped in a steel vise, and she was powerless, sinking into silent darkness. * Anne: Wake up, Skadi. I need you. She lay sprawled on the cold linoleum, a stale chemical smell lingering in the empty apartment. Lucy¡¯s systems flashed red in her peripheral vision¡ªcyberarm offline, lower left leg offline, all subsystems rolling through full reboot cycles. Another thirty-five seconds of dead weight limbs. Anne: Skadi, please, you''ve got to wake up. Now. The air tasted of old dust and cheap disinfectant, as if no one had lived here in decades. Outside, muffled city hum, distant sirens, but oddly muted. Rain City never this quiet, never this tense. Rain hammered the cracked window, neon reflections bouncing over her inert frame. Anne: LETHANDA! WAKE THE HELL UP RANGER! Lucy''s eyes snapped open. Anne¡¯s voice hissed through her internal link, distant and urgent. Lucy tried to query her BCI¡¯s internal clock¡ªno immediate response, the AI core still rebooting. Everything sluggish. Her head ached, no pain editor. She manually pulled up her internal chrono: out for four, maybe five minutes. Too long. She forced herself upright, ignoring Anne¡¯s frantic messages. Anne. The same Anne who might¡¯ve just hit her with the Damocles hack. The media had scrambled for names since the news broke a few hours ago¡ªDamocles seemed to stick, a sword over everyone¡¯s head. Or not kill her, Lucy mused, silently thanking Peril¡¯s prior preparation. Damocles had failed to finish her off. Anne: Okay, don¡¯t answer. In fifteen seconds, a cop is breaching that door. Move. Lucy glanced around. The room was bare¡ªno furniture except the tiny folding table with the backpack on. She snatched her pistol from the floor, its matte finish absorbing the dim overhead glow. She flipped the table, took cover behind flimsy plastic and aluminum. Her advanced systems¡ªtactical computer, drones, ReflexArc-X¡ªstill offline for a minute more. She could move her right arm soon, her foot maybe in seconds. The gun link winked into existence in her HUD. At least some old friends still worked. A slam. The door crashed open. A cop in flak vest and helmet, pump-action shotgun raised. Seattle PD standard, courtesy of some corp contract with Shibuya Arms. The corridor¡¯s fluorescent flickered, and Lucy inhaled sour sweat and cheap synth-wood polish. Who set her up like this? No time. She fired a burst of silenced shots into the cop¡¯s centre mass, tracking upward. Flak vest took most hits, but faceguard cracked from the last shots. The cop staggered, winded, ribs probably bent inward, but alive enough to be dangerous. She had seconds before that shotgun turned the room into a kill-zone. Her cyberarm finished rebooting. She vaulted over the table in a smooth arc, the ReflexArc-X not fully online yet, but her base enhancements enough to close distance gracefully. The cop tried levelling the shotgun, but Lucy¡¯s kick sent it skidding across the grimy floor. Another pair of silenced shots into the vest for good measure. At this range, bones broke despite the kevlar. They gasped, armour plates creaking. She took a knee on their chest, leaning in to keep them pinned. The corridor outside was quiet¡ªno backup yet, but that wouldn¡¯t last. Seattle PD never sent one cop alone. Where was the squad? A partner at least? Anne: You¡¯ve got to go, Lethanda. Aurum would always have a backup plan! Lucy¡¯s systems hummed, finally online. She popped her hive drones, tiny skittering machines pouring out, scanning the hallway and outside street. Her tactical computer fed her options in green text. A car outside, new in the last five minutes. Unfamiliar in her map from before the attack. The cops? Or something else? Aurum? A backup plan from Aurum? Anne¡¯s cryptic warnings rattled Lucy¡¯s nerves. Could Aurum be behind this? Or was Anne messing with her head? She pressed harder on the cop¡¯s chest plate, feeling a ragged groan beneath her knee. "Lucy Kellaway, don¡¯t make it worse. You¡¯re under arrest." A woman¡¯s voice, but deep and authoritative. Harsh. Ramirez. Detective Ramirez, the voice etched in her memory. Damocles to drop her, Ramirez to clean up¡ªtoo tidy. Anne was right. No well-structured op would be this neat. Another trap waited. Her tactical AI solved it first: the pickup backpack¡ªa bomb if Plan A failed? Lucy¡¯s gut clenched. She hoisted Ramirez up, staggering under her weight¡ªnearly 200 pounds of gear and muscle. She dragged her to the corridor¡¯s end stairwell, away from that suspicious package. No explosion. Strange. If no timer, maybe an observer trigger? The assassin¡¯s eyes not on them? Or was she wrong, and it wasn¡¯t a backup? Skadi: A second backup? Anne: A second backup. Yes, Lucy thought. If Ramirez failed, bomb. If bomb failed, an assassin. Layers of operational contingency. But the bomb not triggering seemed off. Wrong. Did the assassin lack a direct visual? Her drones saw nothing. Just a few wary locals creeping out onto rain-slick streets. Maybe the bomb glitched? It could happen. She recalled her shortest-lived drones from mapping, cycling out larger drones to recharge. Options crowded her HUD. Bike route compromised? Abandon the bike? She loved that machine, a masterpiece from Kawasaki. But life over property. And Anne. Anne¡¯s hints pointed to Aurum¡¯s betrayal. She needed clarity. She opened comms to Peril. Silence. Lioncourt. Silence. Not blocked, just not picking up. Odd. Lioncourt always picked up. Skadi: Peril and Lioncourt dark? Anne: Lioncourt¡¯s Ferrari exploded. Ten minutes ago. Unsurvivable for most. Lucy¡¯s heart twisted. Around the same time as she entered the room, no coincidence. Skadi: A car bomb killed Lioncourt? Unthinkable. Anne: Crawled out. Barely. Then Sengoku and Gogul ambushed him. Aurum''s security prospects. The lethal bodyguards who had protected them in Canada, Lucy mused. It was a tough way to go, bombed then taken out by thugs. It lacked finesse, as Lioncourt would say himself. But Lucy wasn''t sure what to believe right now. Anne could be messing with her - be all behind this. This could all be lies. Anne: Lioncourt killed them, but he''s alive - shattered - you could say. But alive. He''s had Pix take him to Mr. Matsumoto¡¯s clinic. Skadi: And Peril? Anne: Don¡¯t know. Boltz booted me out of her building¡¯s net. Same time you got hit and the car bomb went off. I triggered shutdowns in the building¡¯s security. All the encryption failsafes fired. Boltz will crack them in six hours. After that, Peril¡¯s unreachable. She¡¯ll be locked behind military drones, automated turrets¡ªher apartment fortress turning into a prison. If you don¡¯t stop Aurum and Boltz now, tonight, it won¡¯t happen. Six hours. The clock ticked in Lucy¡¯s mind. Peril trapped.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. Skadi: Why would Aurum do this? Anne: It¡¯s a heist, Lethanda. Aurum¡¯s after the money. Pure and simple. * She stepped out into the neon-soaked emptiness, each footfall soft against cracked pavement. The city smelled like rain, rusted metal, and old promises turned sour. Lucy scanned the deserted boulevard. Downtown Rain City never slept, but tonight it dozed, spooked by whispers of the Damocles hack. Everyone terrified a coded dagger might pierce their skulls through cyberspace. A smell of ozone and stale cooking oil drifted from a closed noodle stall. Thin drizzle slicked the sidewalk, washing holographic ads from Shimada Cybernetics and Kuroi Heavy Industries into distorted ghosts on the asphalt. Lucy considered how this silence wouldn¡¯t last. Once the promised security patches arrived¡ªif they ever did¡ªpeople would crawl out of their holes. Maybe they¡¯d riot, furious at having had their mortality dangled by a line of code. Now, in the hush, Rain City¡¯s towers loomed above, corporate spires with digital banners blinking half-heartedly. The storm drains gurgled, as if choking on the city¡¯s collective panic. Across the street, leaning against a sleek Japanese muscle car¡ªsome imported beast from Nissan-Kamakura Motors¡ªstood Benten. The Bish¨­nen killer. His white hair framed a face too perfect for nature: probably cyber-sculpted, a face that could launch a thousand brand endorsements. A face any woman might envy, Lucy mused. Whether real or engineered, it didn¡¯t matter. His posture elegant, one hand on the car¡¯s hood, the other gripping a katana. A sword, in this age of silent guns and microdrones. Anne: What¡¯s he doing? He has a flair for the theatrical I¡¯ll give him that. Lucy¡¯s eyes narrowed. This was off-script, she decided. Aurum would never approve such a dramatic confrontation. Skadi: He¡¯s laid a tableau in front of us. I get the feeling he¡¯s practiced that pose in front of a mirror. Lucy stepped forward, leaving the apartment building¡¯s dim entryway behind. The distant hum of a maglev line overhead buzzed through her skull. The sky was a smear of violet and pink neon reflections. Her internal systems still ached from previous overloads, but now they hummed steady, ready. She had survived Damocles. She¡¯d survived Ramirez. Now Benten stood there as if in an archaic duel. "I hope you appreciate that I chose not to use the bomb." Benten¡¯s voice cut through the ten yards separating them. His voice carried smoothly, no static. A gentle tone in a dead street. Lucy tasted metal on her tongue, her adrenaline spiking. Bomb. So he¡¯d had a bomb after all? Hypothesis confirmed. Aurum¡¯s style was efficient, snipers and traps. Not a gentleman¡¯s showdown in the rain. Benten going rogue like this would have him hopping mad. Anne: This is just stupid. It¡¯s like something out of a movie. Skadi: He has a certain style, I¡¯ll give him that. "No sniper rifle from a rooftop?" The question was rhetorical - she¡¯d checked. Her hive drones had swept every angle. No hidden triggermen. No red-laser scopes. Just them and the quiet asphalt. "I¡¯m almost disappointed." Benten smiled, showing immaculate teeth. "A bullet through your head? Risk damaging that Bullet-Razr AI you carry inside. That would be a waste." Lucy¡¯s heart clenched at the implication. Benten wanted her intact hardware, to carve her up and sell her systems on the black market. She¡¯d always known her augments made her worth millions to the right scavenger. "This is about the ReflexArc-X, right?" She kept her tone neutral. "You want it for yourself." Benten nodded gracefully, twirling the katana. "Of course. Aurum offered me a hundred grand for a quick sniper kill¡ªpeanuts. Once I saw your specs, I realized your gear alone is worth millions. So I discarded his plan. I wanted to do this¡­ honourably." He said that last word with a strange reverence. Perhaps he styled himself a modern samurai? Anne: So he want¡¯s to dismantle you for parts. And that¡¯s honourable? Skadi: He¡¯s up front about it at least, not hiding, looking for a straight up fight. Not a tactic I would have chosen, but hell. Each to their own. Anne: What would you have done? Skadi: I would have used both the bomb and then the sniper rifle as the backup. Blew his head off from 300 yards. The guy has a code I suppose. Lucy¡¯s tactical computer parsed this scenario. Benten expected a blade fight. He presumed, with overclocked enhancements, he could match her speed for a few seconds¡ªenough to strike and claim his prize. A memory stirred: The AccelSpire series of reactionware could overclock for three or four seconds. After that, speed would collapse, leaving him normal, slower than Lucy¡¯s fully integrated ReflexArc-X system. He¡¯d have a short window. Skilled and precise, sure¡ªbut this was a bad bet for him, if Lucy kept her head. Benten stepped away from the car, drawing the katana fully. Under dim street-lamps and half-lit corporate advertising billboards, Lucy glimpsed a translucent shimmer on the blade. A special coating, her AI guessed, maybe monofilament edges or some nano-honed finish that could cut subdermal plating like butter. That was what Benten thought would level the field with her? Anne: Damn, I should record this for a stream for Peril, she loves action movie set -pieces. You going to knife-fight the guy? Skadi: Hell no. Bastard brings a sword to a gun fight, I¡¯m going to shoot him in the face. Repeatedly. "So you plan to kill me with your first strikes in some fantasy duel?" Lucy muttered to herself quietly. She inhaled. The rain pattered on her jacket. Her enhanced muscles tensed. She dialled ReflexArc-X to max, ignoring the screaming warnings about muscle strain and the memory of Terrance¡¯s lecture. She pulled her pistol and fired twice. Benten blurred sideways, low and fast. He dodged her shots as if dancing with ghosts. No time for subtlety. The next fractions of a second were a kaleidoscope of motion. She leapt forward, twisting mid-air, Benten¡¯s katana slicing the space her torso had just vacated. Her system fed her a hundred micro-scenarios, all lethal. She backflipped away, firing more shots, each going wide as he predicted her angles. He was good. Damn good. He vaulted over the hood of the car, blade scything downward. Lucy¡¯s leap cleared it by fractions of an inch, his sword smashing into the hood with a spark of metal and fury. Her drones flitted overhead, no help here, just eyes feeding data. She fired again, but Benten¡¯s blade flashed¡ªhe cut her pistol barrel clean in two with impossible precision. A grunt of surprise escaped her lips. He kicked her hard. Impact distributed by her subdermal armour turned what would break ribs into a dull impact. She slid back a couple of yards, hitting a rusty fence. Sparks flew from old neon sign cables overhead. If not for her implants, that kick would¡¯ve folded her in half. Benten¡¯s overclock was fading though. She saw it in his stance, a millisecond¡¯s slow drag in his footwork. Now it was even odds¡ªno, better for her. She still had reserves. He¡¯d spent his golden seconds. You had your shot, samurai, thought Lucy. Her face was calm. He tried to raise the sword for another attack, but he moved slower now, a fraction off peak. She considered her arsenal. Her left forearm contained a hidden cybergun¡ªa last-ditch shot, a powerful sawn-off shotgun blast loaded with heavy rounds. At this range, no AI predictions would save him. She opened her palm, pointed it at Benten¡¯s chest. Benten¡¯s eyes widened. He lunged, but too late. The cybergun fired with a muffled thump, sending a cloud of blood and shredded armour. His right shoulder vanished in a red haze. His blade clattered to the asphalt. He staggered, tried to pivot. Lucy¡¯s second blast took off his leg at the knee, dropping him into a spreading pool of rainwater and synthetic fluids. He choked, eyes still defiant. "My¡­ speed¡­ you were faster." Benten managed, coughing slightly. Lucy crouched, arm raised for a final shot. She smelled the metallic tang of blood, ozone from severed electronics in his shattered augments. Overhead, a flickering ad for promised payday loans at ¡®reasonable¡¯ rates. Hollow words in a city of knives and shadows. "You had a bomb, a sniper option, yet you chose this route. Why?" Lucy had to know. Benten spit blood. "Aurum¡¯s plan was possible mass murder. Bomb would take out innocents in the building. I don¡¯t kill innocents." Anne: See how he changes his story. Before he wanted you just for your parts and didn¡¯t want to damage them. Now his story is that he¡¯s a super-honourable samurai. Skadi: Both could be true. A glimmer of honour. Lucy¡¯s anger cooled. Benten, a killer with a code. He could¡¯ve ended her from afar, but he chose this foolish duel to avoid collateral damage. Aurum would be disgusted by such sentiment. Lucy wasn¡¯t. "You¡¯re in bad shape.¡± Lucy noted. ¡°You need a doc. I could finish you now, save myself trouble." His face twitched, pain editor probably at max. "I know." She considered. The city¡¯s silence weighed on them. Rain drummed on broken asphalt, distant sirens now stirring, perhaps responding to the shots. She thought of Lioncourt¡¯s style, how he¡¯d finish Benten without hesitation. But Lucy had a choice. In a world of Damocles and Aurum¡¯s treachery, perhaps a fragment of mercy mattered. "I¡¯m walking away. You live. Don¡¯t come after me again." Lucy rose, letting the remnants of her empathy show. Maybe it made no sense¡ªhe was a hired killer, a predator. Anne: You¡¯re jesting? The man wanted to disassemble you for parts. Mercy? To him? This is about me, not him. Lucy thought. I can still have mercy, she decided. Foolish maybe, overly generous-certainly. But she still had that within her. * Lucy hesitated at the glass door of Matsumoto''s Herbal Health & Cyber Clinic, the shop sign flickering under a corroded neon lamp. Rain City¡¯s stale humidity pressed in on her lungs, carrying the smell of fried noodles and burnt circuitry. Anne had led her here, said Pix had taken Lioncourt here ¨C did she trust her? Anne might¡¯ve saved her from Ramirez earlier, but that hardly made her a friend. Aurum was behind it all somehow, and the AI called Boltz lurked in the background. Lucy felt the tension in her shoulders as she twisted the door¡¯s handle. Inside, the shop¡¯s lighting felt subdued, tinted a pale green from overhead fluorescents. The scent of cheap incense mingled with what Lucy guessed were synthetic herbal powders¡ªprobably placebos for desperate patients. Normally, there¡¯d be a kindly old woman behind the counter, but tonight two men stood in the back, deep in low conversation. The old woman was nowhere to be seen. Anne: Ashwraith and Chrome Oni. Lioncourt¡¯s so-called friends. Lucy¡¯s gaze darted to the pair. They certainly didn¡¯t look like kindly acquaintances. One wore a sleek black duster that screamed corporate muscle. His cheekbones were model-perfect, courtesy of some top-shelf gene mod or maybe a high-end Zhu-Parsons Cosmetek job. He kept his body angled toward the second man, but his eyes locked on Lucy. On the nearby table, an AA-24 autoshotgun rested in plain sight¡ªsame model Lioncourt used, big enough to shred a whole room. The other man was robed, layers of cloth draping over a clearly massive frame. Tall, maybe six-foot-six, and had the vibe of a solemn monk from a long-forgotten temple. Lucy didn¡¯t want to guess how many hidden blades or firearms were tucked under that robe. She recalled something from a conversation with Lioncourt about Zanshin¡ªthe concept of unbroken awareness. These two radiated that vibe: hyper-alert, scanning everything, but speaking casually about something that didn¡¯t match their lethal presence. ¡°I¡¯m telling you, it was a penalty in the 2082 Cup final. Tech official missed it.¡± Ashwraith was saying quietly to Chrome Oni. Did Lucy detect a strong British accent? The huge man shrugged, ¡°VAR glitched, apparently. I still say Los Renegados was robbed.¡± Lucy forced a nod in greeting. Their eyes flicked to her. She caught a snippet of memory: Lioncourt once told her he had to buy Ashwraith a high-end sports car after losing some competition on The Black Chalice. She thought, Even the deadliest man I know had to call these guys for backup. Guess that says something. They made no move to stop her, though she felt their stares drilling into her. She moved to the back hallway, where a thickset Japanese man stood guard near a stairwell leading down. He waved a hand-scanner over her, the device crackling as it detected her firearms, but he just nodded her through. The unwritten code of not interfering with Mr. Matsumoto¡¯s business, maybe. What Lucy found below was not what she¡¯d expected. The basement was a stark white chamber lit by long LED panels set into the ceiling, strobing faintly. The air smelled of disinfectant and old copper. She flinched at the sight on the central operating table: a skull and a length of spine, wired to every monitor Lucy could name. No sign of a body. No blood, no usual beep of a ventilator. Mr. Matsumoto¡ªgaunt, with a calm face¡ªstood to one side, his focus locked on a cluster of holo-screens. Next to him was Pix, the wiry Clean cum Bounty Hunter Lucy recognized from Lioncourt¡¯s circle, wearing a nurse¡¯s uniform that looked more like a lab tech¡¯s smock. Pix was jacked into a console, nodding at the readouts. At Lucy¡¯s entrance, Pix disconnected and stepped forward. Lucy¡¯s mind still reeled at the surreal scene: a partial skull, spine, and mechanical attachments. Her first thought: He¡¯s got to be dead. ¡°Is¡­ is he dead?¡± Lucy asked softly. Pix shook her head. ¡°No. The patient¡¯s cyberskull protected his core. The body was a total loss. We managed to restore power to the core just before his emergency batteries failed. No engrammatic damage as far as we can tell.¡± Lucy processed the words. ¡°Core?¡± She glanced at the half-skeletal remains. ¡°You mean his brain?¡± Pix gave her a quizzical look. ¡°I guess calling it a brain works. Let¡¯s just say it¡¯s complicated.¡± Lucy felt her stomach twist. This was Lioncourt¡ªreduced to a skull and spine. ¡°Can¡­ can I talk to him?¡± Pix gestured to a sleek console with half a dozen data cables. ¡°Of course.¡± She guided Lucy to sit, carefully slotting fibre-optic leads into Lucy¡¯s BCI ports. The basement¡¯s hum faded. Lucy¡¯s HUD blinked a notification: Connection established. ¡°Ma gracieuse mademoiselle,¡± came Lioncourt¡¯s voice through the neural link, rich with that faux-French charm, seemingly unbothered by the fact he no longer possessed a body. ¡°I cannot express how sorry I am.¡± Lucy inhaled. Her thoughts raced. He¡¯s alive? Conscious? ¡°I have so many questions.¡± Lucy said simply. ¡°Oui, I imagine you do. My current¡­ condition is unsettling, non?¡± She sensed a tinge of defeat in his mental tone. The flamboyant assassin was subdued. ¡°What are you exactly?¡± she asked. ¡°I¡¯ve asked myself that for six years, ma ch¨¨re. Am I a man? A machine? A prolific lover, certainly. A connoisseur of fine tastes, absolutely.¡± A pause as Lioncourt seemed to choose his next words carefully. ¡°But tonight, je suis vaincu. Aurum outmanoeuvred me. And in four hours, none of this will matter.¡± Lucy¡¯s chest tightened. She pictured Peril somewhere in the crosshairs of Aurum¡¯s plan. ¡°Lioncourt, how do I save her? Peril¡¯s in danger, I have no time to absorb¡­ all this,¡± she gestured mentally to his half-dead state. ¡°I¡¯m sorry for what happened to you. But I need a plan to rescue her before Aurum locks everything down.¡± A moment¡¯s silence, her nerves on edge as she saw lines of code streaming around the interface. Possibly Mr. Matsumoto adjusting something. The staccato beep of a monitor insisted on pressing the gravity of the moment. ¡°Pardonne-moi, I shouldn¡¯t wallow.¡± Lioncourt seemed genuinely contrite, like Lucy¡¯s words had slapped him mentally across the face. ¡°You¡¯re right: we must act. Aurum has had months to prepare. He¡¯ll fill Peril¡¯s building with gangers and hire every lowlife in the city if needed. But for four hours, we have an opening. He thinks you and I are dead. Once Boltz cracks Peril¡¯s accounts, the floodgates open. We¡¯ll be wanted by half of Rain City¡¯s scum for a hundred-million-dollar or more bounty.¡± He let out a digital sigh, if that were possible. ¡°I feel¡­ useless, ma ch¨¨re. My body¡¯s gone. My arrogance cost me. But you want a plan? Let¡¯s craft one. We¡¯ll find a way, and we¡¯ll rise above this. La princesse dans la tour sera sauv¨¦e ¡ªtonight.¡± Lucy felt tears prick her eyes. The unwavering arrogance was back there, that¡¯s what she needed right now. Her world seemed to be shifting and uncertain, have a thousand unanswered questions. She desperately needed a rock to stand on right now. ¡°Don¡¯t you dare bail on me, Lioncourt,¡± she said, voice trembling. ¡°I need you out there, or¡­ at least in here. I can¡¯t do it alone.¡± ¡°Then you shall have me,¡± Lioncourt replied softly. ¡°I insist on joining your quest, ma dame. Let¡¯s show Aurum that the final word isn¡¯t his to have. Merci de rappeler ¨¤ un chevalier son devoir.¡± Chapter 24 The rain came down in sheets, a hard drumming on the steel roof of the nondescript black courier van parked a block from Peril¡¯s building. The downpour smelled of copper and ash, city runoff swirling into neon gutters. Lucy shifted in the driver¡¯s seat, mind racing through tactical overlays. She zoomed her cybereyes in on the front lobby. No need for binoculars. Twenty gangers from the Cuchillos Oscuros¡ªher display painted them in bright red outlines. They loitered in the lobby with battered submachine guns and machetes, looking bored. Or maybe just waiting. The very mention of Cuchillos Oscuros dragged Lucy back to her first kill. The gang that had initiated her into the life. Full circle, she thought with a sour taste in her mouth. Lucy muttered to herself. ¡°Twelve I could handle. Maybe. But twenty?¡± She exhaled, re-checking the count. ¡°That¡¯s a problem.¡± Her tactical computer pinged. Ten minutes till the op commenced. She felt the weight of time pressing on her. Ten minutes to kill, or possibly be killed. She stared at the wet street, half wishing the shadows would swallow her. She wore full black recon armour¡ªmatte finish, slick with polymer plating. Pouches stuffed with spare mags and micro explosives. In the past two hours, she and Lioncourt had scrambled to gather gear. A new H&K 17 sat at her hip, a sleek replacement for her lost sidearm. And so much more. She eyed the stuffed duffel bag crammed with ordnance. But it was the smaller backpack next to her that really mattered. From it, a thick cable snaked into her tactical computer. That bag housed Lioncourt. Or what was left of him. Mr. Matsumoto had rigged a nest of battery packs around Lioncourt¡¯s ¡®core.¡¯ Lucy tried not to dwell on how surreal that was. She took a breath. ¡°Lioncourt,¡± she said, voice low. ¡°We¡¯ve got time. Might as well ask: How¡¯d it happen?¡± Lioncourt: Ah, ma petite dame est curieuse? But of course. You¡¯ve heard how they say they can cure nearly every cancer if you have enough money, oui? Skadi: That¡¯s the rumour. Lioncourt: I found the one they couldn¡¯t cure. Despite all my wealth, it meant nothing. I was done. So I tried experimental uploading. You do strange things when death knocks and you¡¯re flush with cash. Qu¡¯avais-je ¨¤ perdre? Skadi: But if rich people could become immortal as AIs, that¡¯d be world-shaking news. Everyone would know. Feels like science fiction.¡± Lioncourt: Because it doesn¡¯t work, truly. The dream of seamless mind transfer is still fantasy. What we have is copying memories and personality. C¡¯est proche, mais pas tout ¨¤ fait pareil. Skadi: So you¡¯re a copy. The real Lioncourt died, and you¡­ you continued? Lioncourt: Ah, the Ship of Theseus discussion, non? It gets worse. Most, pratiquement tout, uploaded consciousnesses go insane on reawakening. La plupart deviennent fous. I was one of the few who survived. Lucy¡¯s mind briefly flashed to the amount of times she¡¯d mentally called Lioncourt a psychopath or sociopath. Or both. Skadi: Do you know how? Lioncourt: Ah, yes ma demoiselle. A brief silence, Lucy wondered if she¡¯d pushed too far into something too personal. Lioncourt: La souffrance. Suffering. On dit que la souffrance est bonne pour l''ame. Tis true. So very true. Suffering is a catalyst. A beep from her tactical computer signalled five minutes left. The infiltration clock was ticking. Lucy: We¡¯ll probably die tonight. This plan is crazy. Lioncourt: Plans that are least expected are often best. No one thinks we¡¯d charge a building stuffed with armed men. Lucy reached for the massive AA-24 autoshotgun in the passenger footwell, the same model Lioncourt once wielded with style. She¡¯d barely skimmed the learnsoft data for it. ¡°My training¡¯s not complete. I only got basics on this shotgun.¡± Lioncourt: Ch¨¦rie, it¡¯s simple. Point, shoot, reload. That¡¯s about it. She smirked grimly, checked the safety. ¡°Easier said than done.¡± She flexed her left hand. The rain hammered the windshield, dribbling down in rivulets that caught the electric glow of overhead billboards. Everything felt on edge. The city¡¯s hush was unnatural¡ªa hush born of fear. Damocles lingered in everyone¡¯s mind, a ghost blade ready to strike from cyberspace. Lucy: All right. Five minutes. Then we go. Outside, the Cuchillos Oscuros gangers shifted, bored, maybe joking about the Damocles fiasco. They had no idea Lucy Kellaway was parked in a battered courier van a hundred feet away, about to stage a suicidal run to rescue Peril. The hum of neon signs from a half-dead convenience store next door created a low buzzing that vibrated through Lucy¡¯s seat. She inhaled the stale cabin air, tasting nerves and old coffee. Lioncourt: If we fail, at least we fail fighting for a cause, oui? ¡°I guess so.¡± Lucy managed, her voice wavered. Peril¡¯s in that tower, she reminded herself. We have no choice. She popped the van¡¯s door and stepped into the storm. Rain slapped against her armour. She mentally counted down from five. The sky sizzled with distant lightning. The city smelled like burning circuits and ozone. She gripped the AA-24, felt its cold polymer, and cursed the entire cosmos for dealing her this hand. ¡°Showtime.¡± * Lucy pressed herself against the polished granite facade of the building. The city¡¯s upscale pillars and wide frontages provided some cover, though it meant she was only half-hidden from the six gangers at the front door. Her tactical computer¡¯s countdown flickered in her peripheral vision: 10 seconds... 9... 8... She glanced at the readout and felt a knot of tension coil in her gut. Twenty armed foes inside, five posted here¡ªCuchillos Oscuros again. Full circle. She eased forward, each step silent, eyes locked on the gang¡¯s bored expressions. Her clock hit three seconds; she inhaled. Time to sprint. She let her ReflexArc-X spool to max, and her legs exploded into motion, muscles surging with artificial grace. The hum of her cybernetic enhancements drowned out the city¡¯s perpetual hum of neon signs and corporate jingles from overhead. Mid-vault, she saw the lights along the entire street cut out. Hellball had pulled the plug exactly on cue, orchestrating a localised power failure. Fifteen seconds, max, before the building¡¯s internal systems kicked in. Lucy¡¯s tactical display pinged a short green check: Go. She soared through the dank, rainy air, the AA-24 autoshotgun snug against her side. At 300 rounds per minute in full auto, the gun was slow compared to a typical machine gun, but that fraction of a second between shells let her re-aim across multiple targets without letting go of the trigger. She mentally suppressed any guilt about the young ganger in her sights. The reticule from her gun link hovered over his chest, large and menacing. She squeezed the trigger. The AA-24 roared like a thunderclap. The first ganger hardly twitched. A fraction of a second, and he was down, armour shredded by artisanal shells Lioncourt had lovingly referred to as ¡°Rods from God.¡± Each shot unleashed a storm of tungsten rods, unstoppable at close range. The lethal merc had been surprisingly sheepish when Lucy asked how much per round, saying he considered $80 for each hand-crafted shell un investissement dans l¡¯art et la cr¨¦ativit¨¦. They had looked alert¡ªCuchillos Oscuros was no stranger to violence¡ªbut they¡¯d never faced a reactionware ballistic ballet like Lucy¡¯s. Her tactical computer had synced with Lioncourt¡¯s plan. She mostly had to confirm each step as her ReflexArc-X made them real, her body a wired marionette dancing at hyper-speed. She twisted midair, the second target a woman wearing bright red gang colours. Lucy¡¯s second round slammed into her knee, obliterating bone, then traced upward to centre mass at less than a yard away. No one survived that. Not with these rounds. Lucy glimpsed the woman¡¯s shock-frozen eyes before pivoting the shotgun to the next. Rounds spat, muzzle flashes strobing in the gloom, and Lucy could taste the acrid gun-smoke mixing with the city¡¯s chemical rain. In the space of a single breath, the third and fourth gangers joined the list of the dead. Lucy¡¯s mental readout clocked it at just over a second since her initial leap. The recoil felt negligible, a synergy of the heavy shotgun frame, well-designed gas-vent system and her cyberarm. She completed her spin, the gun now at her shoulder, and she let the ring reticule hover over the last two. Her reflexes hammered the trigger. Both collapsed in a flurry of tungsten rods and shredded leather. Five down, her tac-com told her, as if a calm observer. She¡¯d worry about the moral weight later. No time to admire her work. She zeroed in on the doors. Two quick shots of tungsten-laced shells shattered the building¡¯s armourglass. She could have used the handle, but that would mean slowing down, maybe letting her finger slip from the trigger. Her systems said that was a risk not worth taking in a reactionware fight. She crashed through the ruined doors like a wraith, glass shards dancing around her boots. Inside the lobby, it was a grand space of polished marble and tall pillars, all dark from the power cut. The place reeked of stale corporate perfume, and the hum of backup electronics squealed behind the walls. Lucy¡¯s low-light cybereyes flicked over the crowd. Twenty more gangers, rummaging for vantage in the darkness, not yet adjusting to the blackness. A few had reactionware, maybe 30¨C40% of Lucy¡¯s speed. Enough to be dangerous, not enough to win. She pressed the AA-24 to full auto as she dashed behind the first pillar. Another five quick blasts hammered out in under a second, tungsten rods punching through cheap vests and body enhancements like cardboard. She didn¡¯t see them drop¡ªshe¡¯d already moved on, following a script her tactical computer wrote in nanoseconds. She read fleeting muzzle flashes from the far corner as some sharper gang members realized the situation. The rest were disoriented, blinking in strobing darkness.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Lucy¡¯s HUD gave her a new vector: she could take cover or go high. Go high, she thought, letting momentum carry her. She planted her left cyberfoot on the pillar, a vertical run parkour move that seemingly defied normal physics, and vaulted overhead. The shotgun roared again, aim once again unbelievably stable in her reinforced cyberarm. She could almost see each tungsten rod spitting out in lethal arcs. Another five men dropped. The AI beeped a warning: one of the faster gangers was levelling a heavy pistol her way. She had microseconds to choose. Dive or risk the shot. The synergy from Lioncourt¡¯s overlay hissed in her ear, Stay upright. She swerved behind a pillar as a bullet shaved a fraction off her right shoulder¡¯s armour plate. Pain flared but the subdermal mesh caught the worst of it. She swung the shotgun around and ended that ganger¡¯s threat in an eruption of tungsten and bone. The deadly shotgun roared in the lobby, moving swifty to eliminate threats sweeping left and right. The lobby went quiet. Lucy recognised the hush of a firefight¡¯s end, the acrid tang of gunsmoke choking the air. Five seconds, she realised. That entire assault was a heartbeat of destruction. She ejected the now empty 32-round drum. It thumped on the marble floor, rolling near a limp hand. She slapped a fresh drum in, the motion practiced, ignoring the whine in her ears. She scanned for survivors. Her tac-com flagged three possible. Lucy exhaled a taut breath, stooped, and pulled the trigger thrice. Each shot boomed in the echoing space, scattering debris. Then, only dripping water from the shattered glass, the quiet crackle of burning electronics from battered gear. Ruthless. But she couldn¡¯t afford threats coming from behind her tonight. * Lucy took the fire escape stairs three, four at a time, lungs burning but aided by the ReflexArc-X¡¯s oxygen implants. Lioncourt: ¡°You¡¯re a full eight seconds ahead of schedule. Vous vous en sortez tr¨¨s bien, Mademoiselle. Ashwraith and Chrome Oni have hit the roof, encountering heavy resistance.¡± Lucy felt her lips twitch in a wry grin. Those two mercenaries were a lethal sideshow on the top floor, a false insertion to distract Aurum¡¯s defences. She knew they arrived in an AV the same second she¡¯d breached the lobby. Skadi: Least it keeps any reinforcements off my back while I climb. She also remembered how Lioncourt had rigged things: from the seventh floor upward, thick armour grates could slide down at each stairwell landing. The contraption was a code-locked fortress. Normally, it¡¯d take an hour to cut through, but Lucy had the codes. Skadi: I think I¡¯m in love with your shotgun. Lioncourt: Ah, my dear¡­ that was a birthday present from Ashwraith two years ago. A masterpiece, based on a design nearly a century old. Cet homme sait comment me toucher l¨¤ o¨´ j¡¯aime le plus. Electronic laughter. Despite herself¡­ Lucy found her face in a grin. She didn¡¯t know French well, but she had a guess. Skadi: Dirty old man. She passed the fourth-floor landing, ignoring the faint chemical reek from old janitorial closets. Her mind flicked to the possibility that if Anne was wrong about Boltz, if that AI was faster at unlocking defence systems, she might be walking into an unstoppable military drone. Skadi: You think these Frag-24 AP rounds can drop a drone? Lioncourt: Ils briseront la b¨ºte. Never design security you can¡¯t defeat yourself. I bought those shells precisely for a scenario like this. Lucy nodded silently, reaching the first gate¡ªa huge slab of macroplastic armour across the middle of the fire escape, the city¡¯s worst fire inspector nightmare. She paused at the access panel, typed an eighteen-digit code with reflex-driven speed. Three seconds for each door times five floors¡­ that¡¯s time we can¡¯t spare. Lioncourt: Aurum¡¯s brillant, but unaugmented. Keep the pressure on him. He¡¯ll scramble. Yes, that was the plan: no time to think. Blitz to the twelfth floor, in Aurum¡¯s face, before he reacted. The gate whirred up. Lucy didn¡¯t wait for it to open fully, rolling under the narrow gap. Alarms screamed in her HUD. She rose into a crouch, reflexes primed to shoot. A massive assault drone sat in the hallway, autocannon lowered at the door. But it stayed inert. Didn¡¯t even track her. Skadi: Anne was right. They haven¡¯t fully come online. She slipped past the towering metal beast. Another two flights of stairs brought her to a tangle of half-buried anti-personnel mines. They glistened in the overhead fluorescent strobe, faintly humming in standby mode. Skadi: All disabled by the same code? Lioncourt: Non. Each door code kills that floor¡¯s traps, or I can do it from Peril¡¯s loft. If the system was truly active, concealed turrets would be a problem, too. Lucy¡¯s shoulders tensed. She hammered the next 18-digit code for the second gate, rolled under that door as well. Repeat until twelfth floor. Her breath came in tight bursts. The next twenty seconds felt like a series of actions in d¨¦j¨¤ vu: run up stairs, hammer in a different 18 digit code to a panel, roll under rising door. Repeat. Finally, she stumbled onto the twelfth floor landing, her boots sinking into plush carpeting that reeked of a familiar musty incense. At the corridor¡¯s end: The big front door to Peril¡¯s domain. Real wood, polished with swirling patterns¡ªreclaimed oak from an ancient English manor, Lucy recalled Peril telling her once. She paused, assessing gear. She ejected the mostly-full antipersonnel drum from the AA-24, snapping in a fresh mag of exotic anti-armour shells. Enough for maybe one big fight. The rest of her weaponry¡ªpistols, small grenades¡ªwouldn¡¯t faze heavy drones. Skadi: Time to knock. She pressed an explosive shaped charge onto the door. Lioncourt had insisted she couldn¡¯t risk turning the handle. The explosion hammered outward, but Lucy¡¯s tac-com read an unexpected spike. Aurum or his guards had rigged the other side, so the door charge triggered secondary blasts. Flames licked through the hallway, scorching the overhead lights. Coughing, Lucy rolled through the jagged threshold, eyes searching for threats. The sweet stench of burnt wood and old varnish filled her nostrils. This was Peril¡¯s precious door, now blasted to cinders. She froze. A monstrous ten-foot assault drone loomed in the dim loft, tribarrel cannon spinning. This one wasn¡¯t offline. Its steel limbs flexed, servo motors whining. Lucy¡¯s heart hammered. She gripped the shotgun, mind racing. No turning back. Now or never. * Lucy crouched behind the only real cover in Peril¡¯s loft: a steel column supporting the bedroom floor above. The acrid smell of scorched wiring and spent gunpowder hung in the air. A single overhead fixture sparked in the aftermath of the door¡¯s explosion. Suddenly, Aurum¡¯s voice boomed across the loft, piped through a surround-sound system. It reverberated off steel beams and half-destroyed furnishings -¡°Two hundred million dollars.¡± Lucy¡¯s heart hammered. Her tac-com was at full capacity as she eyed the big fully operational drone mid-room. She glared at the battered remains of the loft¡¯s once-luxurious d¨¦cor. No-win scenario floated through her thoughts. Lioncourt refused to accept such a thing, and she felt him frantically discarding sim after sim in her HUD feed. But facing a heavy assault drone controlled by an AI? Slim to none was being generous. Aurum¡¯s voice boomed again, repeating that figure. ¡°Two hundred million dollars. Walk away, take the money, and live your life.¡± It was a bribe, obviously. But a poor attempt at one. She saw how he was playing for time. Lioncourt had just messaged that Ashwraith and Chrome Oni, who¡¯d tried the feinted a rooftop infiltration, had pulled out. So now the defenders would re-converge from above. Lucy had maybe three minutes¡ªfour if she got lucky¡ªbefore hammered between the reinforcements at her back and the unstoppable drone in front. She would be crushed. Lucy: Lioncourt¡­ find a way. She needed to buy him seconds to conjure some miracle. Lucy shouted from behind the steel column, voice tight: ¡°You betrayed her, Aurum! Peril trusted you. You¡¯ve betrayed her!¡± Aurum¡¯s smooth baritone came through the speaker system. ¡°Don¡¯t be childish, Skadi. Two hundred million¡ªenough for a new life. It¡¯s fair.¡± He pressed on, voice dripping with rationalisation: ¡°I¡¯m the hero here. Peril¡¯s a mass murderer, hiring killers nightly across the city like some lethal vigilante. They should give me a medal. I just prevented hundreds¡ªmaybe thousands¡ªfrom dying in an all-out gang war. Lioncourt, still in Lucy¡¯s feed, was ripping through calculations. Precious seconds drained away. Very few yielded a survivable outcome. Lucy realized he¡¯d locked himself in an analysis loop: He can¡¯t choose who to sacrifice. Too much a white knight, refusing to pick her or Peril to die. Lucy: Who¡¯d guess the deadliest assassin can¡¯t condemn me or Peril? She exhaled, scanning her tac-com. She flipped through the scenario stack Lioncourt had dismissed, selecting the one with the highest chance of saving Peril. She wanted to shriek defiance at Aurum. Scream, To hell with your money. But time was short. Aurum¡¯s repeated ¡°Two¡­¡± came through the speakers. Lucy seized that beat, rolling out from behind the column and unleashing the autoshotgun at the drone¡¯s arm cannon. The big steel beast whirred, returning fire with almost matched reactionware speed. Its tri-barrel autocannon spat tungsten death, shredding couches and walls in seconds. At such close range, Lucy¡¯s Bullet-Rzer AI¡¯s movement ballet couldn¡¯t shield her from everything. She felt an impact on her upper leg¡ªarmoured plate slowed it, but it lodged in the subdermal armour like a sledgehammer hammering in a nail there. Her own shells found their mark. The assault cannon¡¯s plating cratered, sparks erupting. Four shots in quick succession. At least one main weapon was toast. But the monstrous drone¡ªten feet of sculpted warsteel¡ªdidn¡¯t rely on just the cannon. It lunged across the open space with startling speed, a huge arm snapping out, vile blades where a hand should be. Lucy tried to roll aside, her reflexware searching for an extra inch, but the beast was too fast. She was caught at the midriff, feeling the blades punch through her jacket, her subdermal armour, and deep into flesh. Her pain editor killed the agony, leaving her clarity. But Lucy¡¯s finger never left the shotgun¡¯s trigger. At this range, she couldn¡¯t miss. Rounds hammered every critical spot, cratering the drone¡¯s armour. She saw four- or five-inch craters open along its plating as it lifted her off the floor with the skewering arm. The blades dug deeper into her abdomen, a savage mechanical grip. She switched aim to the drone¡¯s shoulder joint, unleashing shot after shot. The whole arm assembly becoming detached in a shower of explosive force. She knew if she survived, she¡¯d need new eardrums¡ªthe muzzle blasts pounding her at point-blank were deafening. Lioncourt had told her: The drone¡¯s head is just sensors. The core is in the chest. She pivoted the shotgun to centre mass, praying the next slugs would fry it. The machine spun, trying a last vicious punch aimed at her skull. She twisted enough that it smashed her left side instead, pain editor dulling the impact. Probably splintered half her ribs. Finally, one shell punched through something vital. The drone went dead, dropping Lucy. Instant off-switch. She landed, swaying. The drone¡¯s severed arm still impaled in her midriff. Clinically, she recognised a likely mortal wound. She couldn¡¯t move properly, and removing the blade might kill her. But she had to reach Peril. Lioncourt screamed through comms not to pull the arm out, but Lucy yanked it anyway, ignoring the blood loss. She might have only minutes before Aurum¡¯s reinforcements returned from the roof. She stumbled across the destroyed loft, discarding the empty AA-24. It had been a good friend indeed. She drew her H&K pistol, her old companion. She approached Peril¡¯s server door, breath ragged. Time to end it with Aurum.