We headed for the entrance—weirdly, the one that I’d used first and most frequently ended up being the one we needed—and motion caught my eye as we piled in.

We were heading directly for the security office, and for the first time, as I saw the old lady who stank the place out and was so weird and crazy, she neither attempted to accost any of us—common sense really, all things considered—nor did she move beyond watching us across the room, curled around whatever was in her corner.

“Reign…” I said softly, mentally tagging the old woman with the help of my RI and sending it to her in the team chat.

“What’s up?” she asked, apparently glancing at the picture I’d sent, then nodding. “Gotcha.” She watched the old lady as I led the way across the far side of the foyer, and deeper into the building.

I’d never bothered with the lower floors before—hell, given the choice, I’d have never gone anywhere beyond my damn room, and that was only if I’d absolutely had to come here—so it was no surprise that the floor was an utter unknown to me.

The corridor that led deeper into the structure passed abandoned and closed shops, their glass and steel facades covered by old security meshes.

The deeper we marched, the more the filth piled up, and it wasn’t just general wind-blown filth from the outside, either.

Piles of cardboard, plastic packing sheets, and more narrowed the pathway. And as we navigated it, on all sides we heard the scratching and shifting of movement.

“Guns up and ready,” I ordered my little team, flicking the safety off my rifle, as I heard safeties being disengaged on shotguns behind me.

“She’s following,” Reign sent, accompanying her words with an image. In the very corner, close to the bottom of a stack of abandoned packaging, I could see wild hair and a single eye peering out.

“Yeah, that’s something seriously wrong there.” Luna shook her head and spoke quietly into the team comms. “She looks like a bum, but I can smell chemicals…”

“There’s a lot of chemicals here,” I replied, kicking a used set of injectors aside as we continued.

“No, I mean…ah, fuck it, I hate this shit. Kabutt, what do you smell?” she asked, and I paused, not smelling anything through the filters of my helmet.

I told her as much, getting a low growl as my only response. I reached up, one-handed, and unsealed the bottom of my helmet, taking a deep sniff, then gagging, quickly resealing the bottom of my helmet to the neck of my armoring.

“Fuck’s sake, you could have warned me!” I coughed. “I’ll be tasting that shit all day.”

“That’s the point,” she growled. “What did you smell and taste?”

“Piss, shit, and, fuck knows…probably dead bodies,” I said, disgusted, and brought up the scent receptor alteration script that Reign had given me before, ready to wipe the smells out and replace them with—

“It’s chemical,” Luna said. “It’s not a natural scent.”

“Right?”

“It’s a chemical scent to drive you away,” she continued. “The passageways aren’t as messed up as they seem. They’ve been treated to keep people out.” She tapped her nose. “Orc nose. We’re sensitive to chemicals, and nobody really gives a shit about the orcs, so nobody plans for them for shit like this.”

“It’s true,” Gessh agreed. “We might be twins, but her sense of smell is waaaaay more ‘orc-y’ than mine. I got the human version, and it fucking reeks to me.”

“Fuck,” I growled. “Chances Stinger knows we’re coming?”

“Oh, I’d say good.”

“Fuck.”

“Boss…” Gessh whispered into the commlink.

“Yeah?”

“You know there’s more of them, right?”

“People?”

“Goblins.”

“Around us?”

“On all sides,” she confirmed.

I nodded slowly, taking the next right and pausing as I saw a half-hidden map on the wall. A quick double-check confirmed that yeah, it was unreadable.

Someone had smeared something brown that I didn’t want to focus on too much all over the map.

I sighed, reaching out and permitting my RI to pull up the local Aug-World overlay, frantically enforcing the directions-only demands on it that I normally used, only to find the images around me subtly changing as I did it.

Packing crates faded, dying away. The path glowed, highlighted as images in the very corner of my vision shifted.

Warning: Intrusive local Aug-World manipulation detected. Recommend disconnection.

I cursed, annoyed at first and trying to wipe the access, before becoming seriously concerned as my RI had to devote serious cycles to expunging it, cutting it out and blocking it before the damn thing could sink any deeper into my kit.

“Boss…”

“Yeah?” I snapped, glaring as my RI flashed up warnings, requests, then settled on a full reboot of the Aug-World protocols as the best—and fastest—solution.

“Are you seeing this shit?” Reign asked slowly. The disbelief in her voice made it clear she didn’t trust her eyes right now.

“No,” I said. “I’m rebooting my Aug-World protocols. Give me thirty seconds, then each of you do it. Cut off the local server.”

I got firm approvals from Luna and Gessh, and a grumble from Reign. But when my systems came back up, this time with the local servers firmly locked out, the world was different.

Some of the filth we’d been stepping around was gone for a start, and in its place, cleared sections of corridors that looked concerningly like fucking firing ports. I outlined them with a thought to my RI and sent a warning to the others on silent.

The more I looked, the more I saw the tiny signs. I cursed, long and harsh, before turning to the defaced map nearby. But I remembered enough of it from the last time I’d tried reading it, and the overlaid version I’d had before, to make some fast comparisons.

They were totally different.

The security office was scrubbed out, as were the local emergency exits. And with Aug-World’s subtle twisting? This was looking like a shitload more of a nightmare than we had any business being involved in.

That there were goblins here, hidden on all sides but not attacking? That the stinking woman I’d taken for a lunatic and homeless bum was now following us, and the corridors were treated with some kind of chemical to drive people away, as well as goddamn firing ports installed in the walls?

I hesitated, then cursed, before speaking to the team on comms, dropping my voice as low as possible to fuck with any listening devices. My next investment, I swore, would be a decent secure tac-com for us all.

“Anyone think we have a chance of pulling this off?” I asked.

“No chance,” Reign said. “I’m seeing movement at the firing ports…now that I can fucking see them. Damn, that was good manipulation. AI, you think?”

“Probably,” I said. “To spoof the local Aug-World overlays, and blend it in so that it looked that seamless? Yeah.”

“We gonna try a tactical retreat, boss?” Luna asked, and I hesitated, gritting my teeth.

“He’ll take us all down, I think. We’re witnesses now.”

“Shit, yeah. He’s got to be watching us,” Gessh agreed.

“Fuck it, let’s try this,” I grunted, reaching up and flicking the safety on, then making the point of stepping out into the middle of the corridor, lifting my hands away from my rifle and holding them out in the air.

“Stinger!” I called. “I want to talk, that’s all.”

Silence fell after I’d said that, broken only by the rustling of the occasional goblin or whatever was behind the various piles of rubbish.

“Fuck’s sake, we were hired to clear the place out. We’re happy to back away, but you need to know that word’s out on where you are, and who knows. So you going to talk, or do we all go out in a blaze of glory?” I called.

A new voice replied, coming from behind the group.

“You’ve got some balls, boy.” The scratchy voice of the crazy old woman carried down to us, as she shuffled out into the corridor, watching us.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

“Just born stupid, I guess.”

“Well, speak up. Whatcha think ya know?” she asked, and I hesitated. “There’s nobody else listening,” she assured me, reading my hesitation. “Your keys are communicating through a mirror network. Nothing gets off this floor that we don’t approve.”

“There’s an orc here, Lucky…”

“Gang boss, sixty-fifth floor,” she replied, nodding. “Making inroads into controlling the forty-second through seventieth, and trying his damn best to seal up the higher ones as well. Floors you just wiped out to help him, if we’re not mistaken.”

“Well, yeah,” I admitted. “We…I was dragged into helping him. Took a couple of jobs I shouldn’t have.”

“And this ‘Stinger’?” she asked. “What makes you think they’re here?”

“Besides the fucking security?” I shook my head. “Look, can we talk?”

“Seems to me we are, boy. You rather we took the other option?”

“No, I’d rather talk somewhere private, somewhere with a beer and a damn seat if possible.”

“Open a channel,” she said after a couple of seconds. “Accept the invite.”

I felt the knock on my Key, and I hesitated, then cursed, knowing that there really wasn’t an option here, not at all. If they started shooting out of the firing ports, we were fucked.

I thought about what I’d have done in his place, and then looked at the floor, staring a bit more carefully, until the old woman called out again.

“They’re in the ceiling,” she said, clearly growing tired of the conversation. “Last chance, boy.”

I glanced up, seeing the outlines of fire suppression devices, and for the first time I realized how similar they were in size to the shredder mines I’d seen deployed around army bases.

“Okay, give me a minute,” I called to her, moving to sit down against the wall on one side.

“You sure about this, boss?” Luna asked. “We know what their AI managed before…”

“If they wanted us dead, we’d be dead already,” I countered. “This way, we’ve at least got a chance.”

“Well, try not to fuck them all off, okay?” Reign said in a low voice. “I’d really like a chance at a decent life after this shit.”

I grunted, sitting on the floor and resting my back against the wall. The various weapons and magazines shifted so that, as was tradition, I had something jabbing me as uncomfortably as possible.

As soon as I was settled, I accepted the knock, and felt the world around me disintegrate. I was dragged elsewhere; the blur of pixels and sensations made me feel like I was falling down a tunnel. Fragments of the world blurred past me for a split second, until I reformed, sitting across the table from…

From a hell of a creature.

“Stinger, I presume?” I guessed.

The figure nodded at me, slowly, stepping away from the wall it’d been leaning against and turning to a small heating module.

As it moved, pulling out a pot and filling it with water from a faucet that appeared in thin air, before vanishing, I watched it, trying to make sense of what I was seeing, even as I noticed I was in loose pants and a cloth top, unarmored. The control they had over this setup was frankly terrifying.

“It’s an old trick,” Stinger said into the uncomfortable silence. “Not used much these days. Too much effort for the current generation. You all seem to like just marching up the front steps and opening fire instead.”

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” I admitted, and Stinger turned, setting a pair of cups down before me and pouring for us both.

Stinger was an amalgamation of at least a hundred people, and with every movement, a section of them changed, blurring and becoming different. Their skin was pale white, golden tanned, and black as I’d ever seen, all on one hand. They had elven fingers, long and delicate, matched with orcish hands that became dwarven halfway across.

Ears that started as a goblin’s ended as rounded human; a beard fought with a clean shaved face, and more. Every aspect of them shifted as I looked on in wonder.

“Now, you came here to kill me, so before I deal with that, you wanted to talk, I think?” Stinger asked. Even the voice blurred as it changed, rising to pre-teen adolescence then dropping to scratchy fifty-a-day habit in a handful of words.

“Yeah…” I admitted, before trying the digital tea and finding not only had it been coded in as drinkable—a major improvement over the bar I’d used for the call with Lucky—but it was actually seriously refreshing.

I knew that outside of here, I’d be just as thirsty as I had been before the drink, but right now? Despite my brain confirming it wasn’t real, it damn well felt it.

“So, you’ve got sixty seconds, then I kill you,” Stinger said conversationally, twisting their hand in midair and catching a small old-school hourglass as it tumbled out of the air, setting it down flat. Sand ran from the top bulb into the bottom.

“Right…” I grunted. “Ah…”

“Articulate, aren’t you?”

“Fuck’s sake.” I grunted. “Fine.” I sat back, the feeling on the wooden chair holding me comfortably as I started to speak.

“I got badly injured in the army, mustered out with only tier one’s as replacements for all my good shit, thanks to someone else playing silly fuckers. I got a place here paid for as a sort of apology from the army, and that was it. On arriving, I knew I needed to make as much money as possible to get somewhere half decent, and I went to register with a merc guild…”

“Fairly standard,” Stinger commented, sipping from their own cup, and I glared at them, going on.

“Yeah, well. I got fucked over by the guild and dumped into the undercity, my guns stolen and a damn good kicking besides.” I glowered at them. “I ended up setting off an EMP grenade I got from a specter down there, frying my mods, my gear, all of it. Only things I had going for me was the salvage I walked out with.”

“Sounds terrible,” Stinger agreed, uncaring, and sipping at their tea, watching me.

“Yeah, well, that’s when Lucky comes into it, with an offer I literally can’t refuse. He comes into my apartment, and offers me a choice: I do a few jobs for him, or he kills me and takes the little gear I’ve got there. I’ve got one working arm and a few shots in a shotgun I’ve looted from the undercity. No idea if the fucker will fire safely or not…I’m at that kind of a position.”

“Uh-huh.”

“That’s when he agrees to pay for my mods, to repair them, and tells me I need to hit you. He sells it as my final job, to hit you, and claims he wants no part of the bounty…it’s a personal honor thing for him.”

“A gang boss who doesn’t want the creds?” Stinger asked disbelievingly, and I nodded.

“Exactly,” I agreed. “The plan was blatantly that he gets me to hit you, then he hits me, before I can claim the bounty.”

“And how does he do that?”

“A tracker and a bomb. Implanted as part of my repairs and upgrades, though I wasn’t supposed to know.”

“And you found out how?”

“The carver,” I admitted, laying it all out. “He’s in debt and was forced to operate on me.”

“Sounds like a terrible situation,” Stinger agreed. “Now, which part of this am I supposed to care about?”

“Lucky is the one who knows about you. I thought, going off the details he provided, you were a hermit hiding in the basement.”

“And an easy target.” Stinger nodded. “That’s what you’re supposed to think.”

“Yeah, but you’ve turned the ground floor into a death trap. You’ve invested in this, seriously so. Lucky claims he was going to sell your location but decided to give me a chance at you first. Now, as near as I can tell? His ideal scenario is that I kill you, he kills me, he claims the bounty, and wins.”

“Uh-huh.”

“If not? If you kill me? He’ll sell the location and cut his losses. Then the bounty hunters descend on you here, and boom, all your work is wasted.”

“Unless I trust you, I bet.” Stinger snorted. “I trusted a janitor who trespassed when he shouldn’t have. I gave him a chance, and now here we are. First thing he did was sell that information. I won’t make the same mistake again.”

“That’s because he saw a gain out of the situation,” I countered. “He saw selling your location as a way to win. My win? No offense, but I don’t give two shits about you. I want Lucky dead, so that I’m not having to deal with his shit, and I want out of here to get on with killing the people who’ve fucked me over.”

“You think I’m a carver to take the tracker and bomb out?” Stinger asked, and I shook my head.

“Fuck no, I already got them out. No, what’s going to happen is this. Lucky will be on his way down here now. I was in a Johnny Air-Cab on the way over, blocking the signal on the tracker, so he’ll have gotten no warning before I arrived. But he knew I was coming, so he’ll not be long. All I ask is that you let me use an area to kill him. Then we leave, and the slate’s wiped clean. I don’t give a damn about you, and you don’t give a damn about me.”

“And I have to trust that you won’t just tell someone about my location? I think not.”

“I was APS, a judge for the wasteland. I have no authority in the city, but yeah, I’ll admit, as I go, I’ve been generally improving the place, eliminating the guilty as I can. It’s not just what I was trained to do, it’s also my calling.”

“And? You think you’ll judge me?”

“No, frankly.” I shook my head. “From what I heard about you, you’re an assassin, but no evidence I could see points to you being a wanton murderer. You killed mainly criminals, scum. Some of the hits you did? Yeah, that’d get you on my radar in better times, and frankly, again, it was enough that I made my peace with hitting you. Now, though? I have no issue with walking away, provided you’re really retired, as you seem to be?”

“I am on a…sabbatical,” Stinger replied with a smile, before shrugging. “But I admit, I don’t hunt the innocent.”

“Then, for now at least, we’ve got no interest in each other. This place is a fucking death trap,” I repeated. “Seriously, you’ll slaughter whoever comes for you. No doubt, you’ve got a bolt hole out of here. Let’s say I sell your location? You kill the fuckers when they come for you, and then escape. Now I’d got what? Twenty thou for your location, and only if they kill you?”

“Fifty, but yeah, it’s on a successful hit only,” Stinger agreed.

“Right, so I’ve gained fuck all, but pissed you off. They don’t kill you, I don’t get the fifty thousand but I do get to spend the rest of my life watching over my shoulder for a pissed-off master assassin.” I shook my head, taking a swig of my tea. “I don’t see my life being worth shit at that point.”

“You’d be dead inside of the day, two if you really go to ground,” Stinger admitted, watching me. “So what you’re asking is what? That I turn a blind eye to the fact you came to kill me, and I let you use my traps to kill your boss?”

“Ideally, yeah.” I shrugged. “Look, he’s not going to sell your location, not until he’s sure I’m dead. After all, why give up any of the bounty? He’s planning on killing me and claiming it, so why allow the competition to his payday? This way, you’re safe. No muss, no fuss.”

“Except I’m left relying on you not selling that information.”

“Yeah, well, the other option is that you kill us, all of us.”

“I’m fine with that. Assassin by trade, remember?”

“Yeah, but your cover is blown if you do that shit. We’ve got backup coming to help us shoot our way out, expecting to have to help with a gang fight. You kill us, they’re going to come looking, thinking that Lucky managed to do us over. They’ll come looking for him, find our bodies and whatever damage we managed to do to the area, then they’ll find Lucky.”

I shrugged. “That’s a lot of bodies and damage to hide. I seriously doubt you can do it. You’re hiding, not standing atop a mountain of the dead and daring people to come at you. I’m betting you need this to go quiet-like, and that’s what I’m offering here.”

Silence fell, and the pair of us sat for a long while watching each other, before I reached out—feeling like I was dancing along the edge of a razor blade—as I tapped the hourglass on the top.

“Running out of time here,” I pointed out.

“You’re trying to hurry me along, when you know that one of my options, frankly my preferred one, right now, is to kill you all and deal with the fallout?”

“Yeah.” I shrugged. “You kill me? I’m gonna be pissed, but frankly, my troubles are over. You take your time, and there’s going to be a full gang presence here soon. Maybe we end up shooting it out and trash the place—that draws attention to exactly where you don’t want it. Maybe, just maybe? Our only other option is to use the gangers as shields? Once the lead is flying, who knows what happens. And if you try to kill us, you better believe I won’t walk away.”

“So what are you offering?” Stinger asked me again, and I shrugged.

“I’m betting this isn’t your last line of defense,” I pointed out, and the figure across from me snorted, shaking his head.

“Not even close.”

“So let us in and let us set up. Lucky and his lot come in. We kill them; you let us back out. Problem solved.”

“And you think I’ll just let you walk?”

“I think that if you won’t, the EMPs we set off will fuck your hiding place up.”

“The reactor explosion will take you out as well.”

“Nope,” I replied cheerfully. “The EMPs won’t reach that far. They’ll fuck all your defenses up, then you’ll know that you’re back to the beginning. Except, rather than packing all your shit up if you decide to move on? You’ll be stuck leaving most of it as it’s all fucked.”

“And if I let you use my outermost defenses against Lucky and his gang?”

“Yeah?”

“What do I get?”

“Besides not being exposed and being able to relax again?”

“I could blend into the city with ease,” Stinger said with utter confidence. “So here’s the deal.” He leaned forward on the table between us, fixing me with a glare, watching my eyes as he spoke. “You use my outer defenses, kill Lucky, and his gang, and then you instead owe me a favor. A job—”

“Fuck,” I groaned, as he kept talking.

“In exchange for you killing Lucky and his gang, using my defenses, you cause as little damage to the floor as possible, then you’ll do a job for me.”

“Listen, no offense but…”

“I’ll pay you the quarter of a million bounty that’s outstanding on my head.”

“I’m listening.”