I was moving at speed, which wasn't very comfortable at all. My back was protesting a bit overmuch. My attention was fraying at the edges. If I didn't have the helpful little identification software, I'd almost be willing to write off the vehicle thing, especially considering the distance I needed to cover.

The alley itself was spacious, yes, but it was still an alley. This meant that the majority of vehicles had been parked in one of the nearby garages. The only rides left in the alley itself, under heavy lock and key and the watchful eyes of the bouncers, were motorbikes… and…

My thoughts slid sideways and into quiet glee as my software pinged. I stared, with some measure of disbelief, at a fancy motorcycle parked not even ten meters away from the bar, right alongside some other rides of similar make.

It had two of those grabby claw things that basically resembled the jaws of some beast, with no fewer than six thick metal rods locking both wheels in place. Those were impossible to saw off or rip off in a hurry without producing a ton of noise, which the local security would catch and respond to. Theoretically.

For just a moment, I let my amusement bubble up. Even the mercs in the inner districts were used to law and order. If this kind of thing were attempted in the slums, the bike would be gone within an hour, and no one would give a shit to even try and stop the thief.

I shook my head and casually approached the bike belonging to one Rafe O'Quinn.

It was a sleek, beautiful model. Standard two-wheel setup. A 'beak' that jutted forward and then tapered off to follow the curve of the front wheel, protecting it from minor impacts and buying the bike a little more time if shot at from the front. A decently bulky, yet streamlined engine that hid right behind the front wheel, its exposed innards currently silent and dead.

The seat was melded into the continuation of the beak and the top of the engine, tapering off into a sudden rise of a back spike. The spike was just large enough to contain a small storage compartment for whatever the rider wanted to lug around.

At the very 'base' of the beak, on either side of the bike, two indents allowed the rider to slide their hands inside the beak casing. I was pulling up more info on the bike as I approached, so I knew that what the rider's hands would find was a set of gloves immersed in some kind of neuroreactive gel. Together, the two would form a connection almost equal to directly jacking into the bike, letting the owner drive it with the power of their thoughts alone.

This was perhaps the coolest, but definitely not the only, advanced feature the bike had. If you were so inclined, you could even have it auto-drive you home.

Rafe had been bragging about his 'new baby' online for the last two weeks. From what I'd seen in the pictures, once Rafe started up the beast of a bike, the transparent casing would light up with an inner glow. Flashes of electricity would then put on a lightning show that was somehow both intimidating and admittedly pretty.

Thundergod Mk. XVI. The latest in a line of very expensive, very sought after vehicles. Being a scummy merc with no morals apparently paid well.

I considered the vehicle carefully. With how drunk the two were liable to get, judging by their previous online posts following a party, all I really had to do was hack the anti-theft claws and prevent Rafe's auto-ping from recognizing him as their owner.

He'd probably rage a little, and maybe get in trouble with security for trying to 'steal' the bike. Then again, this was a merc we were talking about. If he got upset enough, there was every chance he would try to punch the lights out of the bouncers, and then he might even get arrested.

Funny? Yes. Conducive to follow-up homicide? Fuck no.

I bit my lip, mind racing as I pinged the two locks from afar and fired off a few breach quickhacks just to test them.

Imagine my shock when the breaches worked. Sure, I'd worked on them a little, and they weren't the barebones basic quickhacks anymore, but… come on! Who the fuck buys the most basic anti-theft claws after shelling out who the fuck even knew how much money on the bike itself?

"Adrian? Are you okay? Why'd you stop and close your eyes? Do I need to launch a rescue mission 'cause of your back?" Amelia piped up in my head, shaking me out of the moment.

"No, just… You saw I found Rafe's bike, right?"

"Yep! Did a whole happy dance over it. Boo for you for not noticing."

"Well, the dumbass bought anti-theft devices that can be disabled using a simple quickhack," I groused.

Amelia broke down into malicious giggles as I strolled up to the bike and took the claws off. Really, took me longer to jiggle them off than it did to hack them.

"How close are they?"

"Ehhhh… I think they got stuck in the bar toilet for the past five minutes?"

"Right. 'Stuck.'" I shuddered, refusing to consider what the two degenerates were doing in there after what they'd openly done in the bar. Instead, I tried to project nothing but calm and confidence as I pushed the bike along, maneuvering it away from its spot. "What the fuck am I going to do with this thing?"

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The question was not that easy to answer. Sure, Rafe was a mindless idiot who chose to stick bargain-bin protections on his bike. But the VelocityHound corp, manufacturers of the Thundergod line, prided themselves on the quality of their vehicles.

Meaning, the bike's own security system could probably chew through my brain the second I tried to hack it. I'd either need to track down the ownership chip for the bike, or get Rafe to transfer ownership to me. Neither was actually a viable option at the moment.

"Ohhh, can we keep it? Pretty please? It looks awesome!" Amelia chirped.

I glanced over to her feed to see she was literally bouncing on her feet, eyes lit up.

"Maybe. We'd need to figure out a way to transfer the ownership to us. Anyways, for now…"

I trailed off, locating a smaller alley that led out of the one I was currently in. Another space between two megabuildings, just a lot more claustrophobic. And, for the inner districts, moderately grimy. That meant a slum rat such as myself would feel downright cozy sleeping there.

I wheeled the bike deeper into the alley and behind a pristine-looking dumpster, then reapplied the claws. They wouldn't stop a determined thief, but they would stop Rafe from being able to ping his bike and remotely order it to return to him. I snickered maliciously at that, then started changing.

Well. Not 'changing' so much as 'de-furring.'

I pulled out two small spray bottles from one of the many concealed pockets on my pants, then set about testing what Amelia had promised me. Supposedly, the adhesive she'd used to attach the long strips of fur to my clothes was easily soluble in water. So, I started yanking and spraying.

There was a bit of a struggle at first. I panicked when nothing happened for a few seconds. But then the adhesive finally slackened and let go, allowing me to tear away the entire left leg of my costume fur.

I grumbled a little about the sticky, reflective layer of adhesive that was left on my pants, but I tried to let it go for the moment. Either I'd be able to wash it off completely later, or I'd bully Amelia over it.

"They're on the move again. Heading directly for the exit now," the aforementioned menace whispered dramatically, making my efforts take on a new, frantic quality.

Thankfully, I managed to tear all the stuff off of me in three minutes flat, including the stupid tail, mask, and cat ears. The mask joined the fur inside the dumpster, but I flushed a little as I stuffed the other two props into my pocket.

I'd have my vengeance by forcing Amelia to wear those ears and that tail, if it was the last thing I ever did!

Though, that did mean I had to first survive Rafe and Oliwia.

I quickly fetched the second-to-last of the bulky items I'd stuffed in my pockets for the mission. It was a pure black, featureless mask that concealed even my eyes. I put it on, shuddering as the slightly more advanced mask activated with a chime and small adhesive pads popped out of it to grip the sides of my face. At least the mask wasn't going anywhere.

Then I stalked over to the mouth of the smaller alley and peered down the street I'd come from, eyes already searching for my targets.

I didn't have to try very hard to locate them.

The two mercs were screaming at each other, red in the face and looking ready to pull out weapons. I was entirely caught off-guard when Oliwia slugged her companion right in the face, doubly so when that made him laugh before he leaned down and savagely claimed her lips. It looked for all the world like a passionate make-out session. Then the small woman let out a muffled scream and beat at his chest until he pulled back, revealing he'd bit down on her lower lip hard enough to send blood flowing freely down her chin.

They resumed screaming at each other as they moved loosely in the direction of Rafe's bike, one featuring a rapidly swelling eye and the other bleeding all over her front.

I seriously didn't know what I was looking at.

"Listen… if our relationship ever gets that dysfunctional, do me a favor and dump me," Amelia said with all the sincerity she could manage.

I was halfway through nodding before I caught myself. "Wait, why don't you dump me?"

"'Cause I'm horrible at actually standing up for myself, and possessive enough to cling to even a toxic relationship."

"Oh."

"Yeeeeah, I mean, what do you expect? Thanks to my father's bullshit, I'm not exactly a well-adjusted member of society."

"Makes two of us…"

"Huh? Stop mumbling and actually talk to me mentally. I couldn't hear you properly!"

"It's nothing, it's nothing, just… Seriously, what am I watching?"

In the time it took them to get to where Rafe's bike used to be, they'd made two more attempts to swallow each other's tongues, Rafe had provided Oliwia with some kind of powder that had stopped her bleeding, she'd viciously driven her knee right up into his crotch, and he'd slapped her so hard that there was an imprint of his hand on her cheek.

I was seriously starting to wonder if I had even needed to stress over this whole thing. Maybe they'd beat each other senseless in the next few minutes, and I could just 'helpfully' scoop them off the sidewalk?

Then Rafe finally caught onto the fact that his bike was missing. He started cursing so loudly and vehemently that I felt my cheeks flush. Listen, I was slum trash. I'd heard all sorts of shit. But Rafe? He was inspired.

My heart almost erupted out of my chest when the bike hidden behind me briefly roared to life. It jerked, rattling the large dumpster it was stashed behind before falling silent again.

I tried to tune out Rafe's cursing as I watched them.

"— get my hands on them!"

"Where's it at? Ya can track it right? Let's hunt it down!" Oliwia shouted in a ridiculously high-pitched voice that reminded me of cartoon characters.

Rafe suddenly fell silent. I saw his lips twitch as he mumbled something, but his companion clearly didn't appreciate his reluctance to answer.

"Speak up ya fucker! Whatcha say?"

"I SAID I DIDN'T SUBSCRIBE TO THAT OPTION YE DUMB BITCH! THEY WANTED TO CHARGE EXTRA FOR THE TRACKING AND THEFT RETRIEVAL OPTIONS! WHO DE FUCK WOULD RISK PISSING US OFF?!" he screamed right back, and I…

Well, I felt like both laughing and sobbing after that close call. I mean, sure, insurance options were ridiculously expensive. Corps wanted to bleed you dry on those subscriptions. But come on, man!

I felt bad for my target's lack of brain cells, honestly.

"Fuck this! I ain't waiting here all night for your stupid ass to call a cab or whatevs. So either follow, or find a dumpster to sleep in, 'cause that's where ye belong ya stupid trash!" Oliwia fired off, stomping towards the entrance to one of the nearby megabuildings.

"De fuck ya mean ye ain't waiting, bitch?! Come back 'ere!"

"I'm getting us to a rental room, ya shit for brains!"

"Well ya ain't very —"

I stopped paying attention. I just couldn't bring myself to keep listening to their endless litany of arguments and curses.

What really mattered to me was that stage one of our plan had worked. Our targets had been forced to either walk home or find a hotel room nearby, and they had definitely chosen the better option.

Better for us, I mean.

I barely held back a malicious laugh as I trailed after them.

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