The air was cool and crisp. Dew glistened on blades of grass. A spider wove a web of sparkling silver—a silver orb-weaver. It watched, on alert, as a young woman with evergreen and emerald hair strolled by, humming and snapping her fingers to a made-up tune. Her arm brushed against a bush that shook the spider's web so intensely the orb-weaver risked falling off its own web. The woman didn't notice. She was entirely devoted to composing her song.

The spider thought her obliviousness was rather rude. Little did the spider know that song saved its life. If the woman had noticed the silver web, let alone a silver orb-weaver. Well, it would have been game over for the biomech arachnid, which also happened to be a potent alchemical substance. But as it was, the woman didn't notice, and the spider returned to repairing another hole in its web.

Anika went about her day, none the wiser, to the woes of silver orb-weavers. She was restocking her arsenal and on the prowl. In one hand, she held a ‘shopping’ list; the other was, naturally, occupied with keeping the beat.

Urri stalked next to her, nose to the ground. As far as she could figure, he sensed charge in some way. When he felt something, he would alert her, and she’d start looking—an ingredient detector.

Ahead, sheltered by the bough of a white spruce, grew a plant. It was nothing marvellous to behold—a slim brown stalk with hints of red that shot up into dull orange blossoms. The petals were translucent, like rice paper. Thin with sharp, jagged edges and absolutely no lustre to them. Each petal overlapped into a funnel shape, forming tube-like flowers. Small sets of firm, matte green leaves shaped like teardrops separated the flowers along the stem.

It was the type of plant that may intrigue a botanist or someone in a similar profession. Still, it would not draw the attention of someone such as a merchant or the rare traveller. Nothing fantastic enough to warrant a second look. Unless you knew what you were looking for.

The Alucinatus had a highly toxic pollen that induced extreme hallucinations in humans. Anika was unsure of the effect on Biomech humans, but biomech animals didn't seem bothered by it.

If successfully collected, the pollen had powerful effects in a potion or any charged item if correctly distilled, compounded, sublimated, and so on. It was so tricky to harvest, though, that it was hardly worth the effort.

The slightest disturbances dispersed pollen everywhere and found its way through every nook and cranny. Shy of full body protection, gas mask, and a sanitation chamber to make sure none clung on, there was little hope of gathering the precious pollen without self-intoxication—and it wasn't a pleasant or short-lived trip.

Yet the plant wasn't worth dismissing. Alucinatus’ subdued appearance and poisonous pollen were defence mechanisms. Inside each glass-like tube of a flower, surrounded by pollen-packed stamen, was a central stick—technically the pistil. But it was far more rigid than might usually be found in a flower. This pistil had the qualities of a mineral, resembling a mix of selenite and shale. Thin blade-like layers formed a boxy shard.

The pistil contained the anti-toxin to the pollen and protected against many kinds of mental attacks. It stabilized and repaired chemical imbalances in the brain.

Alucinatus allowed for miraculous potions, but they were costly to make. Harvesting the plant was a test of patience and fine motor skills for any human. If you could find it in the first place—Alucinatus was rare. And it only grew wild.

Trying to make an advanced tonic from it. Well, maybe one out of every 30 or so were successful. The rest failed. And an ample supply of the limited ingredient was necessary for even one potion.

Their current situation warranted gathering such complex components. Desperate times and all that.

She was not on the same level as Theo when crafting potions. Working with charge took practice. Master artisans did not rise to the top of their craft through birth-bestowed gifts or fetal genetic programming—a highly controversial practice once upon a time. It was a skill you constantly had to strive to improve. Charged work was similar to exercising a muscle, and every vocation did it differently.

For alchemists, failed formulae would putrefy, turning horrible, sickly colours of blacks, browns, and greys. The emanating stench was so foul the smell was visible—a ghastly fume rising from the tonic or whatnot. It was not a job for the faint of heart, weak of mind, or sensitive of smell.

She would aim for a low-grade mind protection potion, increasing her likelihood of success. They had to keep their wits about them, and even though regular protectors didn't get many fancy potions, it would be silly to think that central command didn't employ more extreme safety measures. Rumours spread. Perhaps a protector with upper-level clearance drinking too much and sharing horror tales from work a little too loudly. Or maybe two administrators, out to lunch, gossiping about the notes one had to file on an interrogation.

Even if by accident, rumours spread. And hallucinogens or other mental attacks were among them.

No matter what, it was a terribly tricky ingredient to work with, but Anika had one advantage in the harvesting stage. The pollen was highly toxic to humans, not biomech house cats. An accidental discovery they had made last year after Anika attempted a collection.

Urri plucked three blooms, releasing as much pollen as possible with a gentle shake, then grabbed them in his mouth and stuffed them through the opening of a jar.

With gloved hands, Anika would quickly stopper the jar and put it in a separate bag. She would use an airtight glass glovebox to manipulate it in the workshop. Handling the specimen via gloves specially built into a clear rectangular container. Once fully depollenated and the pollen neutralized, she could safely work with the sample in the open.

The woman continued through the forest, now trying to add lyrics to her song.

“Urri is a kitty cat

And that’s a fact

He goes meow, meow, meow, meow.

Something, something.

Dun dun duuun.”

Urri, the muse of the song, rolled his eyes at the unimaginative lyrics, though she didn't see him.

Of the specific ingredients Anika was looking for, she found flamespire root. Sprigs of little white flowers decorated the delicate stem, commonly confused with baby’s-breath until the plant was unearthed. The valuable part of the plant grew underground like a tuber vegetable. It was bulbous and warm to the touch.

Flamespire was essential in her fire-shooting gun, and she needed to make more of the flammable potion that went with the weapon.

Why would someone like Anika need a flamethrower? It was excellent for weed-killing, the reason Theo originally designed it—after getting caught up in a minor battle with charged weeds intent on ravaging her small patch of land. Anika had also found many practical uses for short controlled bursts of blazing hot flames in her at-home experimentation. She made up for what she lacked in high-quality alchemical equipment with craftiness. Plus, it was fun as heck to use.

She also found pratyl beetles, whose wings clicked together when they walked, creating a fast rattle sound. It was a fantastic additive for crack-bang pellets—another alchemical creation marketed toward children that was wonderfully multifunctional.

Throw a pellet on the floor, and it will activate. Emitting the beetle's noisy rattle—magnified—for a few seconds before dying out. They could use it to distract officials at central command. However, it had the risk of attracting additional attention. It was a tool that required carefully timed execution to maximize its utility.

Pratyl beetles were easy to find in abundance, so she collected a small jar full. The process still took time, for all it was simple. There wasn’t a jar full of beetles just sitting in one spot waiting to be scooped up. She pushed around large clumps of leaves from bushy plants that swept the ground. Dug in the dirt around roots. Peeled back pieces of bark. Beetles scuttled about in most of the places she checked.

A tawny brown doe and its calf mosied along the edge of a clearing. Staying well away from the noisy finger-snapping thing across the small meadow. The two perfectly organic deer watched warily as the young woman gathered the last of the items on her list.

———

Protectorate central command never sleeps. Protectors were constantly on patrol, their heavy footsteps a staple background sound resonating through the expansive halls. Administrative personnel were striding about at all hours.

Lars was responsible for planning a route into the building. Anika, for preparing them to take on the many situations they could encounter.

The quiet hiss of a charge precision burner, the occasional tinkle of glass, and the sound of Anika chopping and grinding ingredients, mixed with Lars scribbling notes and brainstorming routes, produced a cozy, academic-like ambience. Urri lounged on the window sill of the digi-glass, tail and one paw lazily dangling over the side.

“Ground floor’s too risky. We’ll have to come in from above. Hm.”

Any room in the vast complex that made up central command might house top-secret information, but one stood out in particular.

Lars had been pouring over plans for two days now, trying to piece together a map of central command via memory. Mapping from the entrance to his office was simple. Beyond that, things got dicey. If they entered from his office window, he was confident he could find the library from there. Doing so undetected was another matter entirely.

Why did he even bother? After so many years, why was he still looking for answers? Why had he ruined his life instead of living it? His mind felt muddled. He just longed for an escape, even temporarily.

“Got anything to drink around here?”

“Water, or tea.”

She smiled sweetly, knowing full well he was after something stronger. A grunt was his only reply.

There was little conversation. Both were immersed in their respective tasks. Lars massaged his temple and got back to planning.

How did Lars know the library was their destination? The real question was, how couldn't it be? Of course, that's where they had to go. You keep valuable knowledge in a library. There was an easy-to-follow logic here.

“Remember the strange door I told you about? To the library.”

“Sure do.”

Her frustration was evident in those two words, revealing that she knew precisely where Lars was headed with his thoughts.

Anika was in a sour mood. A dish beside her, full of something slowly turning brown and bubbly and starting to smoke. It didn't improve her mood.

“Think that's where we need to go.”

“And we expect Urri to get us inside? That’s why we’re supposed to bring him, right?”

She pointed with both hands at the cat lazing about, arching an eyebrow. The cat in question opened one eye and peered at her before returning to his nap.

“Just into the library and through the other barrier. I'm figuring out the rest.”

Lars detected a peculiar smell spreading through the room.

“Just through a door guarded by assassin protectors, unrecognizable voltage barriers, and blood-coded entry devices! I'm not sending my cat in there!”

“Meoww!”

Urri, who Lars realized was only pretending to nap, snapped at Anika indignantly.

“What? Oh, my bad. I'm not sending Urri in there. Is that better?”

The cat huffed as Anika brought a bowl and placed it near Urri.

“What is that?”

“A little treat. Pureed pumpkin and silver dust.”

She smiled fondly at Urri as he eagerly lapped it up.

“I thought you were making potions?”

Lars tried to covertly plug his nose. The smell was getting stronger.

“I am! Urri looked hungry though.”

She snapped before modulating her tone.

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“What about the food in his dish?”

Lars was thoroughly confused.

“Well, yeah—”

She fidgeted with the long-handled stirring spoon in her hand.

“—but pumpkin and silver is his favourite. And he's had a really rough go of it lately, the poor baby.”

Lars grimaced at the cat devouring the treat like Anika had been starving him for weeks. He also witnessed her feed Urri at least twice daily, so Lars recognized it for the ploy that it was.

Could the small thing get them into the library? Anika had found Sabdur referring to Urri as a tiny god a comical joke. But the longer Lars observed how she waited on the cat hand and foot, or more accurately, paw and paw. Let's just say he saw where the nut and bolt maker was coming from and understood why animal ownership was outlawed.

“Didn’t you tell me…Urri took out 5 protectors…when you fled the city?”

The need to cough and gag was getting overwhelming.

“Nope.”

The words flew out of her mouth. They both knew it was a lie. This wasn't the time to be stubborn.

“Sabdur said to get the cat's help.”

Lars pushed.

“It's too dangerous, Lars! No.”

“But—”

“No!... He's all I have.”

Anika said the last part so quietly he wasn’t sure he heard correctly.

She stood behind the work table, hands set firmly on her hips. Lars hadn't expected resistance, but he also had no understanding of the relationship between pet and human. For some reason, he thought since the note from her friend said so, she'd just go with it. Follow the next clue in solving the puzzle.

A silly idea if he had thought it through and what he knew of Anika. The one who defended biomech bots, defied the protectorate searching for her friend, and loved and cared for a biomech animal—a creature, no matter how small, that would terrify most and warrant instant death should the protectorate find out.

When the realization clicked, Lars dropped that line of inquiry. He'd broach the topic again once he had formulated a proper plan.

“What’s that smell?”

The smell. Lars couldn't avoid it any longer. He had to ask.

“Failure.”

Her arms fell despairingly from her hips. Unable to keep still for long, she reached up with one and fiddled with something around her neck.

“I only have enough alucinatus left for one potion each. If I don’t fail again.”

Even in the worst of it, Anika’s attitude hadn't dipped this low. Or she had pushed past it. Not let it consume her. He felt a brief flash of guilt over his own actions of late.

“You can do it.”

She gave him a dry look.

You can do it. Really? That was the best he could come up with? To be fair, Lars couldn't recall a time he had ever tried to encourage or cheer up someone before.

“Mhm.”

The accompanying thumbs-up was half-hearted as she returned to her work.

It took everything in him not to gripe about the stink. And he did try to keep the gagging discreet. But to his disgusted amazement, a brown and yellow haze was coming off the…glob. It did not smoke anymore; it just slowly bubbled from time to time.

Lars realized the vapour he was seeing was somehow the smell. His brain made the connection via input from his senses. Yet, when he tried to think about how he knew this or how it was possible to see an odour—he needed a drink. Alchemy gave him a headache for more than one reason.

About five minutes passed before Anika slammed her pestle down. She glared at Lars, like the smell was his fault, before putting on gloves and carrying the oozing dish outside.

There was a resounding scream—a roaring that would rival any raging beast. Lars heard glass shatter and a sharp crack of the voltage barrier. A minute later, Anika, red-faced and breathing heavily, walked back in and returned to potion brewing.

The smell dissipated soon after, and Lars could return his focus to planning.

He wondered briefly at Anika’s climbing skills. Glancing up from his notebook, he was just in time to see her trip over the leg of a stool while examining the contents of a glass flask. She stumbled five steps before catching herself from going over face first, keeping the mixture from ruin. It was a good save, but…

He scratched out climbing on his notes and wrote in grappling crossbow instead. It would be easier for both of them, and the protectorate wouldn’t expect them to come in from above. Of course, that added another layer to the plan.

“We’ll need some gear.”

“How would we get any? No merchant will want anything to do with us.”

She wasn't wrong, but he had already considered that.

“I had something different in mind…”

There was no chance of redeeming themselves in the protectorate's eyes. And Lar wouldn’t want to anyway. It was time to go big or go home, and neither Anika nor Lars could go home.

———

By different, he meant theft.

In these moments, he wished potions of a more supernatural nature existed.

Charge helped produce many amazing effects without crossing the boundaries of what was labelled science. But it had limits. There was a powder to quickly stop bleeding and heal a wound. Mixtures that allowed enhanced use of the muscles, such as the Zoomies. Or a sleeping draught that instantly relaxed the nervous system. Even the lie-detection potion lacked any mystical capabilities. Instead, it improved someone's ability to sense lying by seeing fluctuations in body temperature, heart rate, breathing rate, and perspiration.

To boil down to the most basic explanation, potions and the like amplified things the body, or object, was already capable of—if he understood Anika's lecture.

The crystal Anika used at BioCorp, Shield of the Stars, seemed to break with that understanding, but it didn't. She had explained to Lars that the crystal, which was already supercharged because it grew in the Wilds, was known to have protective properties. The alchemical creation took that to the next level.

The mineral was soaked in other things that Anika was very vague about and kept reverting to ‘trade secrets’ as an answer. Humans didn't take to unnatural effects—she also wouldn't talk about how alchemists had discovered that—but objects, crystals… the enhancements still weren't to a degree to qualify as supernatural. There was a rationale for all the effects. Synergy was the key, apparently.

Alchemy disappointed him when he learned no elixir could turn him invisible. The resulting lesson had been miserable, especially without a drink, but he could begrudgingly admit it was informative. He recalled this recent memory due to his current situation.

The walls weren’t heavily guarded. Biomech monster attacks weren't frequent anymore, and the barrier could keep most things at bay until the protectorate came out in force. Still, sweat trickled down Lars’ neck as he crept towards the gatehouse.

Extra grappling crossbows were usually available to Protectors on the gate and wall. You never knew when you'd get stuck on the wrong side of the barrier. It sounded ridiculous until you were the one who'd fallen off the wall, broken a leg, and was looking like a tasty meal for any lurking biomech predators.

Lars capitalized on an evening shift rotation. The protectors going off duty were catching up with their relief. The sun set earlier this time of year, and the voltage barrier would soon be sealed for the night. He needed to move quick.

“We’re meeting for a big dice game after work tomorrow. You in?”

The protector facing the gate shifted left just enough—Lars checked once more, then took the opening.

Ducking down into a crouch, he hugged the side of the wall and slipped in through a door leading to a small collection of rooms inside the gate.

When he came to a stop, hidden behind a crate inside what could only be described as a break room, Lars felt a burning in his legs and even a bit higher up the backside. The crouch walking required far more glute muscle than he realized. It wasn't a practical moving position.

His entire plan was built around a theoretical understanding. Anyone could make a plan to break in and steal something. But unless you had done it a few times, it was much more complicated in practice—and Lars was no seasoned thief. He also didn't pick the best place for a beginner to hit.

Two protectors loitered inside the room. One, with blonde hair pulled back into a single braid, whom Lars vaguely recognized as Protector Felhart, sat at a table. The smell of orange hung in the air as she sliced off a bite and ate it.

The second protector had been leaning against the wall, waiting out the last few minutes of his break.

“It’s time for me to get back to it.”

“Alright, see you in a little.”

Felhart looked up from her orange as she popped another slice in her mouth, watching the protector that was leaving.

Lars lifted his foot and began shifting his weight forward. He almost left his cover.

The protector returning to work stopped suddenly and turned back towards the woman eating an orange.

“Bunch of us are playing dice tomorrow at Bitters. Buy-in’s 35 chrono.”

“What! We usually do 5!”

“Yeah, but there’s a lot of us playing. Rented out the place for the night. Someone’s going to win big!”

Felhart grew contemplative at that.

“Think about it and let me know. I’ll get you on the list.”

Lars exhaled slowly, letting his body relax from the sudden tension as the protector facing directly toward his hiding spot finally left. Now, he just had to sneak behind Felhart.

Ditching the impractical crouch, Lars thought only of silence as he crossed the room into a hall—an empty hall with absolutely no spot to hide.

The small supply room was visible—only a few steps down the relatively short hall. But it felt like kilometres away, not mere metres.

The room was positioned to be close enough that the protectors didn’t take too long going from gear to gate, should the need arise. Yet, far enough to not be easily accessible to people who might want to do exactly what Lars was doing at this very moment.

“Damn. Got to go. Ryse is calling me up to the wall. See you at Bitters tomorrow.”

How many protectors were going to this dice game, Lars wondered as he heard the voice from ahead. Plans began shifting in his head. But he didn’t have the chance to think it out.

Footsteps were coming from one of the rooms further down the hall. Lars would be spotted if he didn’t get inside the room before the protector entered the hall.

He dashed toward the doorway, sacrificing a bit of stealth for speed and not a moment too soon.

He threw his back against the wall next to the archway. Working to control his heart rate so he could hear more than just his own blood rushing in his ears.

As the footsteps grew closer, Lars crept from his position inside the doorway, going deeper into the room.

He twisted his body to check behind him as he put distance between himself and the protector walking down the hall. And to his extreme horror, his back popped.

The sound surprised Lars as much as the protector in the hall. It wasn’t a tiny pop that he could feel but not hear. Oh no. This was practically a full spinal adjustment. The sort that people dream of whenever their back gets that crimped feeling.

“What was that?”

The protector immediately identified the noise as out of place and went to investigate.

Lars had done so well up till this point. The fact that his own body betrayed him downright pissed him off. He had sheer seconds to respond.

Glancing around, his eye caught on a small cylindrical item, a crossbow bolt. But it was made of foam—a very high-density, rigid foam. It had a microneedle set into the tip that delivered a potent dose of sedative. The materials of the bolt meant it couldn’t travel as far as traditional bolts or with as much force. Still, the purpose had been accomplished as long as that tiny needle poked the skin.

Lars grabbed the sedation bolt, preparing to lunge.

“Who's there?”

The protector entered the room, drawing his backup knife from its sheath.

One step. Two. Hands reached out and grabbed the protector and pulled him from in front of the doorway.

The protector lashed out wildly with the knife. One arm swiping as far back as he could reach. Trying to make contact with his attacker.

“Argh.”

Heat spread down Lars' arm, but he ignored it.

The protector started struggling harder against Lars' hold, using his free hand to pull at one of Lars' arms, securely restraining the protector.

When he finally drew in the air to call for help. He didn't get out more than the first breath of a shout before he was crumpling to the floor.

The sedation bolt stuck in his hand. The protector hadn't even noticed the tiny pinprick as he had struggled.

In the blink of an eye, it was over. The entire exchange lasted only a few heartbeats.

Lars moved the unconscious body to the most obscured spot in the room. When they found the protector, an alert would go out. Lars needed to be gone before then.

The room wasn't large, just big enough to store some extra equipment. A small compression sack would fit the few items. Grappling crossbows and the few sedation bolts he could find. He had no desire to leave a trail of dead bodies.

Two additional items stored on a higher shelf caught Lars’ eye as he turned to leave. Both were spheres. A smoke grenade and a voltage light-canceling orb. When activated, it created a field of darkness—a blackness so dark it absorbed nearly all the light within its reach. A very valuable find.

With the equipment stowed, he backtracked the way he'd come. The hallway was empty. No noise carried from the break room, and when he chanced a look there was no one in sight.

A door opened from Lars’ right as he moved into the open toward the exit. He veered left instead, up a set of stairs leading to the wall walkways. No time like the present to practice with the grappling crossbow.

Fast footsteps travelled up the stairs before he could finish drawing the crossbow. He looked down and saw Felhart charging toward him.

To his surprise, she didn't yell when she closed the distance.

“Freeze. Why are you here, Cercher?”

Her hand went towards the weapon holstered on her belt. He would fire the grappling crossbow at her if it came down to it. The impact would hopefully only break a few ribs at worst.

“Got business to take care of.”

Protector Felhart’s face crinkled in evident dissatisfaction at his response.

“You’ve always been an asshole, but I didn't think you were stupid. You’re gonna get yourself killed.”

Felhart’s eyes darted toward the stairwell. Someone was coming up.

Indecision flashed across her face.

Lars was sure she was about to raise the alarm or call for backup.

“Ten seconds.”

He didn't waste precious time on shock or words. Securing the grappling hook to the wall, he repelled down as fast as the crossbow mechanics would allow. A tingling sensation emanated from Lars’ forearm, increasing as he grappled down the wall, the muscle growing tight with use.

Lars connected with the ground in a hard landing that reverberated through his bones. Disengaging the hook, it retracted into the crossbow, and he sprinted into the Wilds.

If she raised an alarm, he never heard. But he knew his trespassing wouldn't go unnoticed.

Once they found the unconscious protector, or he woke up, the protectorate would investigate.

Eventually, someone would think to check Theodora Silke’s home. Anika and Lars just had to move faster than the protectorate. The clock was ticking.