Operative Jonah Moore was outside the factory, at the edge of the Jungle and smoking his cigarette, when the assassin found him.

“Report,” he said, not looking up. He glared at the cigarette in his fingers. He really needed to quit...

“Mission failure,” she said without preamble. “The Mender is dead. He jumped in the way of my strike. Other than that, no kills. The Woodcrafter still lives.”

Jonah frowned. “Why would a Mender—” He shook his head. “Not important.” It was always unfortunate when they lost a Healer, but it wasn't as if he actually mattered. “I presume there was a reason you couldn't simply finish the job?”

“Ruth got in the way.”

Jonah made a face. He should have kept a better eye on his daughter. He knew she had a willful streak, and he still let her out of his sight at the worst possible time.

“My fault, then,” he said. He and Jael had worked together for years; she was well aware he would never forgive any harm to his daughter. In fact, she had been the one to enforce his lack of forgiveness on more than one occasion. “Were you able to confirm that they'd be returning here?” If they returned to camp, setting a trap would be simple. In fact, he might not even have to kill Joshua, if he played his cards right.

“I was not,” she said. “I had to flee in case they tried to fight back.”

Jonah took a pull from his cigarette and chuckled. “You had to flee, Jael? From a handful of reclaimers and Ruth?”

“It is still early days,” she said, no sign of embarrassment in her voice. “I did not outlevel them to such a degree that I could fight all of them at once. Especially not if Ruth insisted on throwing herself in my path.”

Well, he couldn't argue with that math. The early days were always an annoyance for everyone. Of course, on the grand scale, they were far worse than a mere annoyance. As an operative of the City, Jonah was far too aware of how the world death rate spiked in the first few weeks after the reset.

Once a year, every human being was reduced to level zero. The monsters were not. Year after year, the monsters grew stronger, while the humans kept getting ground down.

That was why the work of the reclaimers was so important. Old technology, factories and even weapons, were the only thing that truly evened the playing field. And these new Crafter classes might, one day, be able to bring them true victory.

Jonah ground out his cigarette on his armor. “Thank you, Jael. I understand you did the best you could in a bad situation. I will prepare for all possibilities, and inform you of your next mission soon.”

It was a clear dismissal, but Jael didn't move. She just stood there, black in the night, staring at him through her mask.

He raised an eyebrow. “You had something to say?” Most of his employees would never even imply such disrespect as to ignore a dismissal. Jael, of course, was an exception in multiple ways.

“I am simply wondering why you are doing this,” she said, no emotion in her voice. “You had the boy in your power. The first Crafter was working for you willingly. He even gave Ruth a bloodstone, making her the second Crafter, a valuable position to be in on its own. If you really wanted Ruth to be known as the first Crafter, I suspect he would have been amenable to some simple bribes. He would have played along.” She cocked her head to the side. “So why assassinate him?”

Jonah paused for a long moment, considering how best to answer. He wanted another cigarette, but that was a bad idea.

“I sent a message to the City,” he said at last. “I wanted full background checks done on all the reclaimers, especially Joshua Hundredborn. I needed to know what kind of people I was getting into business with.”

Jael said nothing.

“There were no real surprises.” Jonah shrugged. “A few criminals, a few lost heirs. Mary has twelve brothers, somehow, and Paul was granted Quest Giver status by the First Archer herself. Other than that, nothing unexpected.”

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He waited for Jael to ask. She didn't.

“Except,” he said finally, “for Joshua Hundredborn. I expected him to be easy. Podborn aren't hard to keep track of, as I'm sure you are aware. I wasn't able to give my informant an exact birth date, but that shouldn't have mattered much.”

There were only a hundred podborn a year, because there were only a hundred pods. Joshua Hundredborn's name meant he was born from somewhere between pod ninety-one to pod one hundred. You could track those ten pods back to the past eighty years without much trouble.

“And?” Jael asked, finally playing her part.

“And Joshua Hundredborn doesn't exist,” Jonah said flatly. “All the podborn from those pods are accounted for. My informant tracked every Hundredborn for the past forty years, and not one of them is missing.”

“Look at the dead ones,” Jael said instantly.

Jonah shook his head. “They're all still alive. Every single one. Apparently podborn get good medical treatment.” Well, everyone in the City got good medical treatment, but podborn typically didn't leave the City. “We have no idea who this man could possibly be.”

She was silent.

“I interviewed the reclaimers,” he continued. “As far as anyone can tell, this man appeared out of nowhere a little over two years ago, looking for work out on the Burn Line. People out here don't ask many questions, and he didn't stand out enough to be suspicious. No one thought anything of it, until now.”

“Seems a jump,” Jael noted. “Are you trying to kill him just because he has no one backing him? Because it is more convenient?” There was no judgment in her tone. He had done far worse without her complaining. He had done far worse using her without her complaining.

“My informants started finding leads when they started showing his picture. Nothing firm. No one gave them a real name. No one gave them a reason. But...” He reached for another cigarette. He forced himself to stop. “People started showing an interest. Asking why they were asking questions.”

“Government?” Jael asked. “Criminals?”

“Both. And everything in between.” He shook his head. “One of my men had to burn a safehouse to escape from a suspiciously convenient mob. There are multiple factions who are very interested in any news of this man.”

Jael said nothing.

“So he fled the City.” Jonah shrugged. “Fine. Plenty of people do that. But then he somehow managed to find an impossible bloodstone, making himself the most valuable person in the world?” The Eight, of course, didn't count. “I don't know who he is, I don't know what he wants, but everything about him is suspicious.”

“So you want him dead,” she finished for him.

“I want him contained,” he corrected. He finally admitted defeat, took out another cigarette, and lit it with a match. “Unfortunately, you were the only tool I had available.” He gave her a sideways look. “And, really Jael, you know I appreciate your skills, but you couldn't bring someone in alive if you had all Eight Immortals helping you.”

She didn't argue the point. “Why not simply wait for him to return? Surely capturing him would be simple.”

“That was my first thought. It has the same problem we encounter when attacking an unknown target on their own turf. What traps and preparations does he have in store?” He waved his hand in the direction of the outpost, smoke tracing lines in the air. “Perhaps every single reclaimer would fight to the death for him. You said the Mender jumped in front of your attack. Would you say that was an accident?”

Jael said nothing.

Jonah pulled on his cigarette, then let out a long breath. “I foresee two possibilities. Either he immediately comes back here, to his closest safe haven. If he is innocent, he will come to me for help. Especially with Ruth there to provide witness for his story.” Ruth didn't know about what Jael did for him, of course. They would have no reason to suspect anything. “In which case it will be a simple matter to isolate him and find the truth of the matter. If he is guilty, he will either turn the outpost against me or, if he does not have that much influence, he will gather any valuables he has and escape.”

“And the second possibility?”

“He will flee immediately, abandoning anything he doesn't have on him.” Jonah looked out over the dark Jungle. He really should go inside. “This is the most dangerous option, for everyone involved. He will have a hostage. He will go to the City, as he clearly has something there.” He smirked. “That is where we will have him.”

Jael cocked her head to the side. “You think your influence exceeds his own? That seems a dangerous gamble.”

“Over the City? Maybe, maybe not.” As an operative, Jonah had a decent amount of political capital, but he didn't spend enough time in the City to be a real master of its various factions and gangs. He grinned. “But I have an advantage that I know he doesn't have. If he doesn't show up here in a few days, we'll know it's time to use it.”

Jael stared at him for a long moment. Then she shook her head. “You better hope you're right about this one. You know the Eight don't like people using that trick.”

“This time, I suspect they will forgive me.”

It was his daughter's life on the line, after all.