"Everything in life is a game." Neil's mother had told him once. "The stakes may change from a dollar to a marriage to a nation, but it's all games." She was obsessed in a way, she had studied them, the mathematics of them. How every interaction between human beings boiled down to a set of players, rules and win conditions. It was her philosophy, and of course Neil would adopt it, but he added one clause: 'Everything in life is a game, and I play to win.'

Now, everyone was back at the station, even Alexander Manning was here. He was revealing some potentially useful information from military sources, as well as establishing the bureaucracy for the investigation. Neil half listened. He had a dozen programs running at once on his computer, and a dozen more hovering in his mind. If he listened to Manning now, he'd drop something.

The head of Luna's military was an unemotional man. He was tall, with a short blonde scrap of hair that was greying into a striking silver. He paced as he spoke. His long, grey trench coat reached down to his knees; and lagged behind him as he moved, almost like a cloak. He gestured to a display behind him, and at this particular moment it seemed to be worth Neil's attention.

"From our satellites, we suspect they used a Hopper." He said.

That made sense... The short range, tin can shaped ships could drop in and out of Lunar orbit with very little fuel. As well as 'hop' from one point on the surface to another. Also, the use of 'they' confirmed Neil had missed whenever it was officially decided she wasn't working alone.

"It seems they got up to speed, she jumped off - maintained her momentum with this 'skipping' action we see in the video. Then murdered Ty Jackson, and later got picked up by that same Hopper... It's impressive coordination but not unfeasible with flight computers and enough planning."

Neil scanned the room. Vince was attentive, his back straight and hands on his desk. Like the know-it-all child at the front of a classroom. Esme was meeting Manning's eyes, Sasha was studying the satellite reading behind him. Dom was standing in a far corner, shadows obscuring his face. This case seemed to have hit him somewhere vulnerable, and Neil hoped Void Dancer was dealt with soon, for his sake.

"Their hopper climbed up into low Lunar orbit and outside the satellites' range - becoming indeterminable among other traffic. What we do know is this first attack was at 5:34, and she was back down within Plato at Kodes HQ for 6:11-"

"What do we have on the meteorite?" Esme interrupted.

If he was annoyed, he didn't show it. "The professor at the University says it's one of the most boring samples that's fallen... we're not pursuing it further." Esme leant back and crossed her arms. "So, she must have landed at some point between those times, but from the logs at the docks, it's clear she used an unlicensed airlock." Manning continued.

The unlicensed airlocks were a classic problem for the police. During Plato's construction, teams had often stuck a small but functional airlock closer to where they were working for the sake of convenience. With no centralised government at that point, it meant that Plato now had dozens of off-the-record airlocks dotting its perimeter. Ideal for illegitimacy.

"I'm assembling a force from this and other law enforcement squads." Manning said. "Dom?" Dom's head shot up. "I'm giving you the lead on this force, keep everyone in line and I want daily updates."

"Understood." Was all Dom said. Neil couldn't resist looking at Vince. His glare was sharp with boyish annoyance.

Manning kept talking, but Neil had heard everything he needed to. The rules of the game hadn't changed, but the optimal strategy may have. Sinking back into his computer, he was positive he was only one clever idea away from cracking the source of the uploads.

His focus was deep, and he worked for hours. Each time he looked up, fewer of his squadmates remained. Dom had left first, then the twins together. Neil checked the time and the clock had marched a few hours past midnight. Vince was still here though, probably making some kind of statement. Neil noticed as Manning approached him.

Once, many years ago. Neil had gone to visit his mother in prison. On this particular visit, with thick reinforced glass separating them, the microphones and speakers connecting them had been broken. Not wanting to waste the precious time they had to see each other, they'd enthusiastically mouthed their words and communicated with rudimentary sign language. The next visit, the microphones were working, but they still chose to communicate in their own strange way. A personal game, restricted to only those two players. It was one of the fondest memories Neil had, shared with only his closest friends.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

And thus Vince and Alexander didn't know he could read lips.

"You shouldn't be jealous." Manning said, almost whispered.

"About what?" Vince said.

"I know you wanted lead on this investigation, and it's not like I don't believe you deserve it. Quite the opposite. I want to keep you close."

"Okay..."

"Keep this between us, but our intelligence has reason to believe that Void Dancer is working with inside knowledge from either military or police. I want you as my personal eyes and ears within this force, understood?"

"Yes sir."

"Now go get some sleep." Without delay, Vince packed away his things and hurried out of the station. Then Manning approached Neil. "You should get some sleep, tomorrow's gonna be a long day."

"I'd rather not." Was all Neil said, and hoped it was enough. Manning's brow furrowed for a second and then relaxed.

"Okay then, but I'm staying too and I won't be quiet. I've got to make a few calls."

Fine by me. And then the focus was back. Minutes turned to hours and 100 lines of information danced across his screen. Somewhere within them had to be the way forward, the optimal move. He was in a trance of problem solving that he hadn't felt in a long time, the energy was intoxicating. 'Everything in life is a game, and I play to win.'

He didn't know how long the trance had lasted, but it was shattered when Manning came charging towards his desk.

"There's been a third attack. A nightclub, Kry, in Red." Neil just sat still for a moment. Adjusting to reality after the trance. "Come on!" Neil considered protesting, but the unavoidable 'that's an order' was already on his face. He relented and rose from his computer.

Within seconds, He and Manning had strode out of the station and into an ant just down the street. Manning entered the destination and then his special credentials to get them there faster.

"If this place is in Red, how close is the President?" Neil asked.

"Her household guards say she's safe, I've ordered an extra team there just in case."

The ant accelerated forcefully and soon enough the blue hue of the interior progressed to a darker indigo. The military man looked serious, and for the first time today Neil found himself genuinely concerned. Was Plato actually in danger? Was Luna as a whole under threat? Just what were the stakes of this game?

The indigo looped back around the spectrum and resolved to a deep crimson. As they neared Kry, the ant passed a group of people fleeing in the opposite direction, then another, then two more. At last the ant stopped as forcefully as it had started, and Neil was nearly thrown from his seat. Manning forced the doors open and Neil was close behind him. People could still be seen running at the ends of the street, but immediately outside the building was lifeless - an unsettling quiet. The lights from within flashed and ran through the rainbow. Illuminating the small front entrance against the otherwise abandoned street. The two men darted inside.

There was no music. That's what Neil noticed first, the subversion of the expectation. The entrance led directly to a wide and tall hallway, with two bars on each side. They too were abandoned, half–filled and spilled cups littering the counters. They moved further inwards, taking extra effort to walk with the strengthened Grip lining the floor. The hallway led to the main dancefloor, where three bodies were scattered. With the dark and constantly changing lights, It was hard to tell whether they were moving or how much they'd bled.

A staircase led from the main dance floor to another, next to it a sign read: 'Warning! Grip-free dancefloor! Only for the experienced!' But a gate was closing the staircase off.

Manning rushed over to one of the bodies, Neil took out his handheld. In the same moment, one of the speakers crackled to life, and an ancient song began to murmur in the otherwise silent building.

~'We get it almost every night, when that Moon is big and bright. It's a supernatural delight, everybody's dancing in the moonlight'~

Neil tapped at his handheld, trying to get access to the building's security cameras. Then, he saw it. The next move. An opening in the game.

"Aha!"

"What is it?"

"On the security camera's network, there's somebody else trying to get access. It must be them. Tryna' get their next highlight video. I can track 'em from this, and get a location on the source of the uploads!"

"Oh." Was all Manning said.

~'Everybody here is out of sight, they don't bark and they don't bite. They keep things loose, they keep 'em tight. Everybody was dancing in the moonlight'~

Neil met Manning's eyes after the strange reaction, but he was looking through him. When his gaze didn't change, a pit of dread began to open in Neil's stomach. He twisted his feet free of the Grip and slowly turned around.

Then he saw her.

Almost invisible against the surrounding darkness, she stood unarmed and statuesque. Neil felt fear like he never had before. Fight and flight screamed in one cacophony, and adrenaline shot through his entire body. He could feel his coursing blood hitting abrupt walls at his extremities.

And yet she did nothing. Only the morphing and spinning lights creating the illusion of movement. Then, without any apparent provocation, her head twitched, switching her object of focus. It was a small and instantaneous action that reminded Neil of a bird.

He followed her adjusted gaze and turned back to Alexander Manning. He was in silhouette, the tails of his trench coat fell delicately in the low gravity - as he'd just drawn his gun. His aim centred on Neil's head.

His mind was thrown into chaos. Only one despairing thought coalesced before the end: I'm not even playing this game.

"I am sorry Neil." Alexander said, and then fired.

The Grip prevented his corpse from falling, and instead suspended it leaning back awkwardly. His arms fell vertical, and a lazy stream of blood led from the back of his head to a thick pool on the floor. As the final chorus echoed:

'Dancin' in the Moonlight! Everybody's feeling warm and bright, It's such a fine and natural sight! Everybody's dancin' in the moonlight!'