“You can verify—but listen!” Strider’s shadow appeared on the hut’s tarp wall. He threw out his hands, legs half-extended. “Don’t you dare touch until those credits are in my hand.”

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s see the goods, then.”

The flap opened, and a teenager ducked in. From head to toe, he looked like a streetpunk. Fluffy hair parted mysteriously around one of the reflective, flat lenses that served as his eyes. One unusually long arm was tucked into the pocket of his ragged jeans, while the other dangled to his ankles. Layered a-frames advertised a half-dozen bands through the holes in each layer. Beside him came a blocky man in a dark coat, most of his face replaced with metal.

He caught sight of June and frowned. Then he looked past her, to Sasha, and his face lit up. “As promised. It’s a bit anti-climactic, but a mission finished is a mission done.”

“You! Get back!” Strider hurried over and raised his leg.

June saw the kick coming and rolled away from it. His foot smashed into her stomach, but clipped the edge of her harness on the way there. Faint pain burst down her side anyways, though not as much as it should have been. She turned away, coughing, and curled into a ball as if it had hurt her badly. For effect, she even drooled a little.

“Is that the famous terrorist? Thought she’d look scarier.” The teen crouched down beside her. Cold fingers gripped her chin.

June glared up at him, defiant.

“Hey, what’d I tell you about touching?” Strider barked.

The teen smirked. “Blonde isn’t your color, I’ll tell you that. You look better in the mugshot.”

June spat at him.

Unbothered, he let go and stood, wiping the spit on his pants with a casual gesture. A moment later, he tilted his head upward. “Sounds like your credits are arriving.”

Strider grunted.

A familiar roar filled the air. White and gold streaks blasted overhead, bleeding right through the blue tarp, and then a low thump sounded out from outside. The flap flew open, and a girl in a white-and-gold flightsuit barged in, removing her helmet as she went.

Arelia shook out her hair and looked up at the teen. “I came as quickly as I could. Is it true? They’ve been caught?”

“See for yourself,” the teen replied.

June met her eyes and smiled sadly. I did say we’d be enemies the next time we met, but I never expected this. “Hey there.”

Arelia’s brows furrowed. “You?”

“Well? They’re the ones you’re looking for. Where are my credits?” Strider asked. He clasped his hands and offered Arelia a slightly nervous smile.

With a frosty glare, she strode forward. “Am I not allowed to inspect the goods?”

“No—ah, please,” Strider said, gesturing. He scuttled out of her way, instinctively dropping to his usual height before he hesitantly returned to his half-extended legs.

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She knelt down by June. June hefted herself upright and gave Arelia a defiant look. I won’t be handled like cattle.

“Stay still,” Arelia whispered, and reached to her hip.

June’s eyes went wide. She stiffened, then forced herself to relax. Play along for now. I’ll figure out the why later.

“How is she? There’s no doubt she’s the one, is there? Or is there something else you need?” The teen wandered over to Sasha.

“Don’t touch him,” Arelia commanded.

“He’s ours,” the teen warned.

“Did you forget, Three? We’re paying for them both. He belongs to us, until I bring them both back to Father.”

The teen laughed. He looped an arm around Sasha and hefted him over his shoulder. “That’s cute. You couldn’t afford Four—Sasha, not even with both bounties combined. We’re talking lots of commas. He’s designer brand. Haute couture, even.”

“What are you going to do with him, anyways?”

Something buzzed behind June. There was a burst of heat, and then, suddenly, the heat doubled. Subtly, she flexed her arms. Both responded, one with a faint metallic creaking. June barely suppressed a grin and shifted so Arelia could reach her ankles.

Three cocked his head. “Hmm? Oh, did he win you over when you met him the other night? He’s cute, but he’s not worth it, trust me. You’ll find someone better.”

“What are you going to do with him?” Arelia repeated. Another buzz. Feeling rushed back into June’s leg.

“I don’t know. Strip him for parts? Dissect him? I’m not a scientist. Listen, I wouldn’t worry about it. He’s been marked for death since before you met him.”

June reached out blindly behind her. Her hand closed around Arelia’s, and she stole the tool away. Heat singed her fingertips for a second, but she barely felt it. Eyes locked on Sasha, June jumped up and charged, holding the tool behind her.

Three smirked derisively. He raised a hand.

June jumped up and slashed at Sasha’s neck, heedless of Three’s falling hand. The tiny glowing blade sizzled through the air. The tip dipped into the collar.

Three’s hand slammed into her. Pain exploded down her ribcage. She crashed through blue tarp and out into the night. June ducked her head into her chest and raised her arms defensively. She smashed down onto the scrap and rolled, bits of metal and plastic flying. Tiny scrapes lit up on her arms and back. June jumped to her feet.

Before she could charge back in, Strider sprinted out. His long legs ate up the scrap. In seconds, he was a mere shadow in the distance.

She glared after him. She wanted to chase after him, break his legs, and beat him up until he cried for mercy, but now was not the time. She whirled around and raced back into the tent.

Chaos greeted her.

Sasha had his legs wrapped around Three’s neck, both arms gripping tight around Three’s arm to pin it against his body. The collar hung half-open, leaking green light into the hut. Three beat at him wildly with the other arm, while the arm Sasha held onto thrashed like a wild animal. Scrap flew everywhere as Three tried to scrape Sasha off.

Pinned against a sturdy piece of scrap, the bulky man with the metal face had Arelia by the throat. She thrashed in his grasp. Arelia grabbed his arm, and a burst of electricity zapped from her hand. His grip didn’t slacken an inch.

Before she had any time to take things in, men burst through the hut’s door-flap, guns raised, attached flashlights glaring into the poorly lit hut. They wore black, tactical gear and skeletal exo-harnesses not unlike the ones the police wore, but without the pogo-stick feet.

June jabbed her hands into her pockets. One closed around a cylinder, the other, her comms. She ducked and plugged in the cylinder as bullets sprayed above her, and dialed Tooly with the other hand.

“The hell,” Tooly mumbled, half-asleep.

Bullets rocketed off the scrap around her. One zinged inches past her leg, so close she could feel it. June threw herself into a roll and came up behind a more substantial piece of metal. It had once been a car, but now was crumpled almost past recognition. Neon orange crumpled metal dug into her back while bullets flew around her. “Tooly, I need you to fire her up. Right now.”

“Is that gunfire? Is someone shooting at you?” Tooly suddenly sounded fully awake. There was a clatter, followed by muffled cursing. “Where are you, June? What’s going on?”

“No time! I need her, now!”

“Fuck. Are you sure? That’s game over, June. You won’t be able to hide any—”

“I know! I—” she sucked in a breath and closed her eyes, kneading her brows. “I know, Tooly. There’s no other option.”

There was a sigh, then a click. The comms went dark.