An entire district, gone. Just… gone.

It didn't sound real. But there it was, in the news and all over the net. I could have taken a stroll over to the area and confirmed it myself.

I didn't. Obviously. That was just asking for trouble. Besides, we had much more serious things to worry about. Like, say, the fact that Amelia was right.

The mercs were starting to move again.

Our subverted agents were quick to share that their captain was pushing for things to go back to normal as soon as possible. The lockdown had cut deep into their profits, and even disrupted a few ongoing deals. They needed to swing back with all the haste they could manage if they didn't want their funds to dry up.

Patch was already planning an 'outing' for the following week. Confirmed destination? The slums.

Though I hated the slums, though I had a ton of bad memories there, and even though recent events had twisted up my sense of empathy… I still didn't want to let the mercs do that.

Neither did Amelia.

We immediately started scrambling for a solution, with very little success. That is, until we got another info dump from our thralls.

In two days, most of the company was going to be away from the HQ. The given reason was 'a resupply and training excursion' to get them back in shape after spending so much time cooped up. Because obviously, they needed training to handle street rats.

No, that wasn't the real story. Our moles told us exactly what was happening: a massive rager party. Patch wanted the mercs to take out their frustration in any way they saw fit after being 'disrespected' by so many 'useless little civvies.' The idea was to get it all out of their systems before the real mission, to prevent them from 'doing regrettable things' to their merchandise and ruining their profit margins.

I had to admit that it was a smart move.

It was also an opportunity.

Only about twenty mercs were getting left behind at the HQ. And, because their priorities were now our priorities, four of those mercs belonged to us.

It wasn't a perfect setup. It wasn't even close to our dream of turning most of the mercs and just marching into the HQ like conquering heroes, but it was pretty good. Especially since their runner had weaseled his way into the party and left his apprentice behind to hold down the fort.

That left only one point of contention for Amelia and me to sort out, and it also led to our very first major fight.

She wanted to come with. I wanted her to stay behind.

There was a lot of shouting, on her part at least. And while that wasn't the reason I caved, I did eventually give in.

Those puppy dog eyes of hers were unfair. So were the threats that if I wanted her to be some perfect fragile corpo heiress, then I was going to be sleeping on the couch. And no, not in the cuddle pile floor pit. She was going to order in a couch just for me.

At least she was in a very happy and cuddly mood once I caved to her demands, so… there was that?

Regardless, I gave in. Time slipped by in a whirl of planning. Long before I ever felt ready, I found myself standing in the hallway of our clinic by our back entrance, eyeing up a massive crate with deep dislike.

"And you are sure you can get us in without triggering scrutiny or alarms?" I asked once more, just to have confirmation. Our four zombie followers all nodded in eerie sync. "Fine," I sighed. "Ladies first?"

"That's such old bullshit, and you know it. But fine, I can go first. Keep your hands to yourself when it's your time to squeeze in, will you? I don't need to get distracted."

Even under such tense circumstances, Amelia was more than willing to tease. Despite my mood, my lips twitched into a smile.

She gingerly climbed into the crate and scooted into a corner before shooting me a look. I grumbled a little, but I did stop wasting time and climbed in after her.

It was a tight fit. And by 'tight', I mean we were pressed together so closely that there was zero chance of sexy thoughts happening. In fact, I was fighting down claustrophobia as our drones lifted the crate and headed out.

I knew the plan. We had gone over it so many times, there was no way I wouldn't. So I tracked all the sounds and bumps quite accurately as the four thralls loaded the crate into a large semi, fired the thing up, and then made a very large circle around the block. So it looked like they weren't, you know, coming over from the nearby clinic.

This was apparently one of the final ammo deliveries the company expected. There had been several already, all in preparation for their upcoming 'operation.' Again, they were behaving like they were going to war, rather than kidnapping a bunch of people from the slums.

The trip was just long enough for me to get bored. I had started wondering how they were even extracting so many people from the slums without getting caught, or at least noticed, when the semi screeched to a halt. We heard very faint footsteps outside before the back door was torn open.

Chatter ensued, and while I'd expected it, I was still nervous to hear the voices of mercs that weren't just our four. I tried to listen in, but it was just silly, banal stuff. Needling, taunts, and all the regular idiocy of muscle-bound idiots with more aggression and lust than sense.

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At least nothing went wrong, for once. It was our four who handled the crate we were in, and I could only assume that they placed it exactly where they had said they would. Otherwise, we'd all be in deep, deep crap.

We waited anxiously, growing ever more annoyed with every minute. But eventually, the entire group cleared out. Silence fell outside the crate.

That was our cue.

Amelia started fidgeting first, and then I helped her crack open the badly sealed crate. Both of us gasped and immediately started gulping in the relatively fresh air.

"We're never doing this again," I insisted.

"Never. I swear," my lover agreed.

We exchanged a quick glance before quieting our chuckles.

Thankfully, at least as far as our drones could tell us, none of the security systems were sensitive to sound. Also thankfully, the mercs hadn't spent much money on internal security at all. They had focused on turning themselves into a veritable fortress against any outside incursions. That left very few cameras for us to worry about, and none of them had particularly good angles. Especially since we'd been stashed in a corner of the warehouse-like basement level behind a bunch of other crates.

So, following the instructions we'd been given, Amelia and I climbed out of the crate and crept along the wall to our right, careful to remain concealed. Not even a couple meters away, we found it: a panel in the wall, currently sealed shut.

I almost groaned in relief at the sight of it. The fear of our idiots feeding us false info still lingered in the back of my mind. Not that anyone could blame me! You try navigating a group of brain-dead mercs into subtly inquiring about the security of their HQ. It was wildly out of character for them to care. Plus, it could have triggered all sorts of red flags in Patch's mind if he thought his goons were getting a bit too smart for their own good.

The answer had come in the form of one of the most skittish and faint-hearted people I'd ever met in my entire life. How the fuck the guy had even gotten employment as a merc was beyond me, but our previous converts had brought him to us somewhat forcefully.

Once we had him, well… It wasn't that far-fetched for him to be terrified of the locals coming after the mercs in retaliation for the whole 'cyberpsycho' failure. It actually made sense for him to bother people with questions about HQ security. I'd held my breath at first, but the panel's existence was proof that he'd actually come through.

Our plan assigned the task of opening the panel to Amelia. After all, she was the one with the ability to shift her hands into any tool she liked.

"Ha! Got it!" she cheered quietly, lowering the panel to the ground and scooting over so I had better access.

The net connection was right there, beckoning to me. Before I plugged myself in, though, I took a quick peek at my stats.

Adrian Flinn

Strength: 9 Reflexes: 20 Acuity: 20 Physique: 10 Recovery: 3 Stamina: 8 Soul: 20 → 28 Adaptability: 20 → 28 Tolerance: 21 → 23 Cognition: 20 → 22 Essence: 28/28 → 38/38

Mind Synchronicity: Reluctant Symphony Body Synchronicity: Sharpening Harmony

Shadow Runner Package:

Clairvoyance 3 (24/100) → Clairvoyance 4 (11/100) Programming 1 (99/100) Movement 2 (0/100) Quickhacks 1 (69/100) → Quickhacks 1 (99/100) Assault 2 (24/100) → Assault 3 (87/100) Tongue of The Ravening Observer

Unseen Stalker Package:

Stealth 1 (84/100) → Stealth 1 (99/100) Tracking 2 (62/100) → Tracking 2 (99/100) Focus 1 (58/100) → Focus 3 (88/100) Grace 2 (12/100) → Grace 2 (99/100) Faultline 0 (42/100) → Faultline 2 (2/100)

Not bad, if I had to say so myself. True, in spite of all of my work and studying, a bunch of my skills had stagnated. My Shadow Runner skills in particular were stubbornly resisting my attempts to level them up.

My Stalker skills, on the other hand… Well. I felt a certain degree of affinity for them which simply kept them climbing. It helped that they were so fun, too! I'd even managed to incorporate Stealth, Grace, and Tracking into my daily life, using them mostly to spring the occasional surprise on Amelia.

Of course, the skills that had really jumped forward were the ones I could use my Essence on, in both packages. All of those had sharpened and warped into things that were truly threatening now.

You'd think I'd be most terrified of what Assault could do, but no. That special honor went to Faultline. Looking at the world through a prism of pure destructiveness was uniquely disquieting, especially when I glanced at my lover and saw half a dozen ways to demolish her in an instant. Thankfully, the skill didn't seem to require action to level, or it would have been stuck close to zero still.

Anyway, I dismissed the status screen and turned my attention to the panel. Leaning on Focus and my netrunner skills, I connected myself to the mercs' security network.

Here's hoping they're even more careless about network security than about internal cameras…

My hopes were only partially answered.

The good news was that the mercs hadn't seen fit to isolate each floor of their building to a separate network. This definitely opened them up for easier intrusion. However, they did fill their net with IDPs. The Intruder Deletion Programs weren't true AI, but 'seeing' them patrol the netspace of the merc HQ, you couldn't really tell.

The IDPs made it difficult to accomplish what I needed to do by just lightly connecting to the net. They were thickly concentrated around the most important security network points that actually controlled the defenses I was trying to subvert. To make any progress, I would have to dive into the net itself.

I grit my teeth, bit down on my lip for a second, and then made my decision.

"Look after my body, okay? I need to dip into the net to take care of things properly, and I'd rather not nosedive the second I go insensate or something."

"Sure, sure, you can put your head down on my lap and everything. It'll be romantic," Amelia teased, but I could see the worry in her eyes.

I shot her a reassuring smile and did as she suggested, drawing a little giggle out of her.

It was finally time to see how much I could do without shadow support, no matter that I was mostly a shadow on the net myself. Maybe I'd even be able to figure out why some of my skills were so stubbornly resisting progress.

With those hopeful thoughts, my physical eyes closed, and the eyes of my net avatar blinked open.

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