Lucille knows how to turn a man into a heat-seeking missile, that much is for sure.

I stare across the armored truck at Drachma, trying to avoid respecting her decision. Besides my own inconvenience, it was mutually beneficial and the best option. She stares back, unconcerned that I've already broken out of my handcuffs.

"You promised me an arm," I say, speaking carefully to avoid chopping my tongue off with my own teeth. Lower level roads are a nightmare, especially this far from the actual city. "Not this non-functional piece of crap."

She smiles. I hate it. Feels like I'm looking at a shark. "After," she says, winking. "The man you want has the arm you need. May as well rob him while we're there."

"By rob do you mean murder and pull the net off his corpse?"

"Yep!"

"I don't enjoy that I'm liking this plan."

Jon bangs on the divider from the driver's seat. "Ten minutes," he says. "Prep time."

Lucille offers me a new handcuff, the other end cinched to her own wrist. "Once more, from the top."

My eye twitches in frustration. But I get it. "No chaos. Get in, get a private audience, kill the guy, steal his arm. What was his name again?"

"Davrus Hale. Board member of Biograde Labs. Claire's company."

"What's the Dictator's daughter doing owning a company?"

Drachma looks at me like I'm stupid. I can't tell if she's right. "Okay, fine," I grumble. "We get his motive, kill him, you get revenge, I get justice. Did I miss anything?"

She sits back. "We don't know how deep this rabbit hole goes," she mutters, almost to herself. She seems to find the floor especially interesting. "Davrus almost makes too much sense to be the mastermind."

She looks back up at me. "Do you know any good torture techniques?"

I grin.

-

One way or another, Hale had managed to get his hands on a private estate in the lower level. I didn't actually know that was possible. It's on the outskirts of the city, past Little Delhi. One hell of a drive.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Lucille gives me a shove as I step out of the truck, a show for the lone guard watching at the gate, and anyone else who might be watching. At the end of the short walkway behind him stands a three-story red brick mansion, unheard of these days. The land costs alone are exorbitant.

Beyond, I can see the city walls in the distance, towering miles above my head. It feels claustrophobic to be this close, and they were still a dozen kilometers away. Last time I'd been this close, I'd ended up outside. Not a great place to be.

Lucille practically drags me to the guardhouse. There's no rain out here. Small victories, I suppose.

The hired muscle slinks out of the tiny building. His armor is worn, strapped on precariously. Not a big deal. I care more about the Arkos machine gun he's carrying. A weapon that uses bullets with microjets and a targeting system to hit perfect shots at any range while firing fully automatic. A marksman's weapon in disguise.

"Name and business?" he asks from behind his helmet. His voice is artificially projected, the metallic twang of malfunctioning speakers turning him vaguely robotic. He's probably scanning us for weapons as well.

"Lucille Drachma of Corrigan Security," she says. "I have Alex Park in tow. I'm told there's a bounty."

I whip my head around. "I have a bounty?"

They both ignore me. "He's expecting you," the guard responds, slipping back into the guardhouse. A moment later, the gate slides open. He pokes his head back out. "Don't do anything stupid."

Lucille carts me away before I can kill him. The front door opens as we approach, revealing a modest yet expensive interior. Wood everywhere. The servant who opened the door gestures to a side door within the entry. A study lies within.

We enter. A pale, balding man in his late thirties sits behind the desk. An old guy, practically on his deathbed. I'd be surprised if he doesn't already have terminal cancer of some kind. He stares at Lucille.

"Welcome," he says, his gaze unwavering. If it makes Drachma uncomfortable, she doesn't show it. "I see you've brought me gifts."

"Just the one," she answers, shoving me forward.

I'm not sure when she undid the cuffs, but I faceplant directly into the floor. I feel my nose crunch and the smell of copper fills my nostrils. "You bich," I say into hardwood, struggling to stand with only one functional arm.

Davrus Hale glares down at me as I climb to my feet, blood pouring from my face. He's disgusted. I hate it. "Kill him," he says to Lucille, folding his arms across his chest. One's artificial. The one I need. "Cor2 Security is capable of that much, yes?"

"I didn't come here to do your dirty work for you," she answers, crossing her own arms in response. "I have questions. He can wait."

Hale says nothing. He glances at me, as if deciding my threat level. The servant from before moves into the doorway. On second look, he's much larger and has more nets than I thought. Not ideal.

Lucille takes care of my worries by shooting him in the head. He crumples, hitting the floor with a wet thud. Davrus nearly jumps out of his skin. "W-wha, how-how did you-did you-"

"Corrigan owns your guard now," she responds, holstering her weapon. I wasn't even aware she'd brought one. Pretty basic Ares 9mm. Standard issue across the Site. Very reliable, accurate, and powerful. "More accurately, I do."

In a single swift move, I choke him out with my good hand across the desk. He has no time to react as my grip crushes his throat. His mouth moves, but nothing escapes. Terror fills his eyes. Right before the tipping point, I drop him. He collapses in heap into his chair, too oxygen-deprived to do anything but gasp for air.

"Let's have a chat, yeah?"