“Dammit! That woman.”

The door flew open. Light spilled across nicotine-stained carpet and illuminated a slice of desk before it slammed shut again. Rough hands fumbled for a switch, then gave up. Lit by the digital billboard opposite and the city lights, the office was never truly dark.

Pulling at his tie, Masen stumbled to his desk and sat down on top of it. Carelessly, he swept the dark wood until he chanced upon a bottle, then a mug. He sloshed the bottle into the mug and threw back a swallow. His face scrunched. He shook his head and huffed out.

“No one cares about this Block. Seirios assholes breathing down my neck and she’s gotta stick her nose in my goddamn business, huh?”

The office flashed a shade brighter as the billboard atop the office building across the street showed the preternaturally pale face of a beautiful Asteri. She smiled, and the camera zoomed. Red lips cast the office in crimson. The screen turned dark, leaving the office in shadow. Almyra, silvery letters spelled out, and a dark bottle of fragrance slipped down black velvet beside it.

Masen’s face darkened in time with the screen. He scratched the stump of his forearm, where the metal met flesh. It always itched at times like this, emotionless harness rejecting the rage in his body. “Thinks she’s all high and mighty, but she’s trash. Just like us. If she wants to pull that moral bullshit, she should turn herself in first. Traitor.”

More liquid sloshed into the filthy porcelain. He sipped, then abruptly put it down. His hands crawled over the desk. Papers spilled to the floor. Pens scattered. “Where’s my damn comms? I’ll put a hit on her, I swear.”

Light washed over his desk and flashed off a small tablet. He sighed and snatched it up. A few taps dialed a familiar number. Impatiently, he fiddled with his glass while he waited for his subordinate to pick up. Another ring. He leaned back against the desk and crossed his arms, staring out his window.

Someone stood in front of the advertisement, cast in shadow from its backlight.

Masen blinked. He sat up and squinted. No way. What kind of madman would be up there?

Red. Black. He lost sight of the shadow in the darkness, and when the billboard lit up again, nothing obscured the ad. He scrubbed his eyes. Is the drink getting to me?

“Boss?” a voice chirped from his comms.

Finally. He rolled his eyes and took another sip. “Listen. I want a hit put out.”

Glass shattered. Cold air blew his hair back from his face. He leaned back and squinted even as he reached for his gun. “What the hell—”

Boots slammed into his gut and blew the air out of him. He bowled backward on top of his desk, and his attacker shifted their weight forward, onto his chest. Pinned, he struggled blindly. His comms went flying.

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The advertisement lit up, revealing his assailant. Delicate features. A small face, small form. Dark hair, cropped short. A woman?

No. A child.

Unspeakable dread welled up from his stomach. His eyes went wide. “No, please. One more day. I swear, if it wasn’t for that damn wo—”

Icy metal slashed across his neck. He felt the pain a beat later. He pressed his hands against his neck, but to no avail. Blood poured like water. He fumbled for his gun again. I won’t let you get away.

The child swiped. Red glittered off the wet knife.

His gun clattered against the wall. Blood spurted from his handless arm.

“Shit!” he tried to say, but his neck wouldn’t hold enough air. He reached for something, anything, mechanical hand clumsy. The bottle crashed to the floor. Alcohol soaked into the carpet, heady and sweet.

The child leaped off his chest and backed away to crouch near the broken window. White light sparkled off metal at their wrist and shoulder, peeking through the collar of their shirt. Hollow eyes watched him thrash.

Dammit, no! I won’t be killed by one of Seirios’ puppets!

Icy cold clutched him. His legs went weak, and he toppled to the floor. He reached for his comms. His hand trembled. Darkness obscured his vision. Just… a little further.

Red.

The color drenched the room. The papers, the desk, the carpet, the man’s body on the floor. Hands. Knife. Brilliant lips, wide smile. All red. Red, red, red.

“Report,” the bud in its ear buzzed.

“Complete.” It knelt and wiped its knife on the man’s suit.

Black. The shadows swallowed all. Nothing remained.

“Boss?” a tinny voice asked.

It stilled.

“What is that?” the bud demanded.

A step. It stomped the tablet to pieces. “Comms.”

The voice took a deep breath. “Someone knows you’re here. Help is on the way. This is not a clean kill, Four.”

It closed its eyes. “No.”

“How many is that now? Three?” Another sigh. “Mistakes are unacceptable. You were made to be perfect, Four. Return for your punishment.” 

“No.”

Silence. “No? Objects do not refuse.”

“You’ll kill me.”

“If you do not return, we will hunt you to the ends of the earth. We know everything about you. We will find you. And when we do, we will torture you until you beg for the release of death.”

A pause. Dark eyes swept the room, lit up in white. Amber alcohol mingled with crimson blood. The desk stood, a monolith in wood. Sprawled between the puddle and the desk, the body cooled.

“Be reasonable, Four. Return for your punishment.”

It ripped the bud from its ear and threw it to the carpet. The voice shouted something it half heard, some threat, in the millisecond before it stomped the bud to dust. With a flip of the wrist, it drew a fresh knife and pressed the tip to the side of its neck, a few inches over the metal. A shift, a millimeter left, and it cut. It dug in the wound and yanked out a silvery pod, barely the size of a pill. That joined the bud on the carpet. Another stomp, and it was nothing more than a mess of electronic bits.

“Hey, boss! Everything okay?”

Eyes flashed to the door as it creaked open. Four drew its other knife and crouched on the far side of the desk.

A gasp. “Holy shi—!”

It launched from the far side of the desk at the man in the door. He reached for his gun, but too late. It landed on his shoulders, slammed a knife through his skull, and rode him to the floor.

“Jay!” another man shouted, horrified. A half-dozen men crowded in the hallway ahead of it, guns and knives bristling. They reached for their weapons.

Four yanked its knife from the man and darted for the next. They’d come for it soon, but until the retrievers arrived, it would do everything it could to tear them apart.

Starting with the reason it had come here at all.