My scrunchie snapped. Dunno why. Prolly a shit batch.

Headlights. A modded cruiser screams past, neon lights hiding the imperfections in the titanium panelwork. Likely hidden guns shoved behind scrounged bulletproof plating. Luckily, not my guy.

I pull a spare band from my wrist. It's partially soaked, but when has a little blood ever hurt anyone? I use it to tie my hair back. I should cut these locks, but I don't wanna.

"My guy" is inside. The café is drowned in yellow light, turning the orange upholstery into something turd brown. A small Chinese coffee shop. I can't speak Chinese, so I don't know what it's called.

Regardless, I kick the door in.

Somewhat unsurprisingly for these types of places, the only dudes inside are gangsters, minus the one bewildered waiter who makes the smart play out the back door. Said gangsters are slow to the punch. One makes the mistake of reaching for his gun. The Breaker wipes him from existence in a flash of blue and red. L'il bit o' silver, too.

The rest are smarter. I still have a reputation, after all. Jeremy seems to know this, judging from his expression. Or lack thereof. He's still drinking coffee despite copious amounts of blood and noise. There's bits in it. I'm impressed.

My weapon expels a burst of heat with a hiss, then the mechanism clicks back into place. I step onto a chair and lean into my gun, which is propped against my knee. Which is propped against...yeah. "Jeremy."

"Jaime."

"Fuck."

He looks down at me over the rim of his cup. The bits are gone. "You're famous."

I scowl. "Yeah, and now y'all won't leave me the fuck alone." I level the gun at him. "Why?"

Jaime shrugs. It's a dainty movement, so subtle I almost miss it. "I'm the middle-man's middle-man." Bits of flesh reveal themselves as he sips his coffee. Some disappear. "My boss's boss's boss got a cog contract and passed it down the line. We got stuck with it."

I frown. "Why was the job to dump a body in my dumpster?"

"It wasn't. The woman was."

"It was the woman's job to dump herself in my dumpster?"

Jaime's eyes glaze over. "I hate talking to you."

"Uh-huh. Who's the contract holder?"

Stolen novel; please report.

"Fucker knows terms like this but doesn't get the sitch." He chuckles, and his crew nervously follows suit. I blast one.

Jaime sucks his teeth as chunks of brain slide off his face into his coffee. "No name given," he manages, thousand-yard-staring into his cup. A piece of gray matter surfaces, rolls over, then submerges. "Cor2 exec. Gave his title though. Egos all the way up."

"Gimme." I load a new magazine into the Breaker. Whirring noises fill the room as the weapon runs checks.

"Head of Security. Probably coulda guessed."

"That idiot pulled a stunt like this?"

Blood sprays from Jaime's hair as he shakes his head. "New guy," he grumbles. "Chuck got zeroed a couple months back. Something about owing money to a rat."

"A cooper?"

Jaime nods.

"Where the new guy at?"

"Uh, the Cor2 building? Probably in the Security office. Haven't you been there before?"

"I was in Datascience. And I was too busy throwing people out the window to notice anything else."

"You never notice anything," the clique boss mumbled into his cup, feigning a sip. His eyes are downcast.

I'm already gone, leaving Jaime to wallow in self-pity.

The rain doesn't greet me this time. A wally in an AAAM scans my eyeballs as I look up, immediate regret filling my body as the spotlight blinds me. The scanner chirps and the vehicle flies away. Cold rain soaks me once again.

I sigh.

Half a day later I find myself in front of the Cor2 building. I'm still wearing my booty shorts and covered in blood, out of place among the crowds of well-dressed cogs and students. I'm shocked they haven't called the Security team yet. No way they don't have eyes on me.

Right on cue, an agent grabs my arm. "Oh, it's you," he immediately says. His poorly-dyed blonde hair distracts me. It's dry. Come to think of it, it never rains around the tower. Food for thought. "What did we tell you last time?"

I give Jonathan Clarke my most disarming smile. "That you'd kill me if you ever see me again." I bat my eyes. He doesn't seem impressed. "No? Fine fine, take me in, chief."

His eye twitches. I pretend not to see. "Is Lucille still around?"

No further response than a rough shove. Guess we're moving. "She's waiting." Oop, guess he had something to say.

"Bossman inside too?"

"He's on a business trip."

"Oho? Dear brother leaving the Site? Say it ain't so! He better stick to the UGR."

More twitching. It's difficult to resist prodding at someone who idolizes my egotistical maniac of a little brother. "He's in the Dome. And it's none of your business."

He's also delightfully easy to pull information from.

Front doors, same as they always were.

Same with the corridors that led to the lower level's ground floor station. The doors hiss open as we approach, the silver and blue accents so shiny and clean I feel like I'm being blinded. Inside, in front of a row of monitors, sits a blonde bombshell in a blue Cor2 uniform. Make no mistake, her appearance is carefully crafted to be disarming. Lucille Drachma is actually quite lethal.

"Alex," she says. She seems cautious with her words. "I'll make this simple: why are you here?"

I blink. Jon is still twisting my arm behind my back. I feel something pop. Probably nothing. "Your new Head of Security started a chain reaction that ended up with an unauthorized body in my dumpster."

"Loretto?" She frowns.

I shrug in response. "No name, no pain. Wait, no. Lots of pain. Still no name though."

"Spare me the details. Your clothes tell me plenty."

"Do you like my shorts?"

"No."

"Aw."

Lucille stares me down for an uncomfortable moment. Her eyes flick to Jon, who releases me. My arm flops strangely at the elbow. I pop it back into place and test it. Good as new. I pretend not to notice the skeleton crew's grimaces.

"Loretto time?"