Titama returned to where she had dropped her sledgehammer. Hefting it easily in spite of her bruises and contusions, Titama set off across the Farm and down the hallway to the freight elevator. Her head moved from side to side, cracking her neck.

Muturangi was in his office upstairs, on the ground floor. The huge function room was dark and silent and the noise of the freight elevator groaned through the backroom halls. Muturangi’s office was also, for the moment, dimly lit. It was a small room for a man of his size with bookshelves and filing cabinets clustered around his narrow desk. One set of shelves was filled with classic Maori weapons and memorabilia, connections to a lost past and a lost country. Several flat monitors on the desk displayed camera feeds from around the building. Titama, holding her sledgehammer, moved from screen to screen.

Hands shaking, Muturangi unlocked the top drawer of his desk. The gun in the drawer was chunky, inelegant, and made of bright blue plastic. Since firearms were so heavily restricted and regulated across the California Islands most of the ones illegally available were 3D printed from the most basic of materials. Ammunition was also hard to come by and incredibly expensive. Although the gun looked like a child’s toy it fit six rounds snugly inside the fat, plastic grip. Watching the monitors, Muturangi withdrew the weapon from his desk. Given the possibility of gunfire being picked up and the police coming down hard on all offenses it was a holdout weapon, an emergency backup in case all else failed.

With a slam, the door to Muturangi’s door was smashed open. Titama filled the frame holding the sledgehammer she had taken from the cabinet downstairs. Muturangi raised the chunky 3D printed weapon but he didn’t expect Titama to close the distance. Titama pitched her hammer from across the room. The sledgehammer swung across the small office and struck Muturangi’s shoulder with a loud snap. Muturangi’s arm was thrown sideways and the gun exploded, firing one of its rare and overpriced rounds into a filing cabinet. The gun fell to the floor beside his desk. Rebounding off Muturangi’s broken shoulder, the sledgehammer landed on the desk in front of him.

“Ah, damn it! Titama, girl, wait! Wait!” Muturangi said.

“We could’ve talked this over, boss. Even with the clones, even you telling Bash and Thrash to kill me,” Titama said. “Until you did that to Jojo.”

Muturangi’s right shoulder was broken, a contusion under the material of his suit that clearly pained him. Raising his left hand, Muturangi struggled to stand as if to defend himself. His muscular bulk dwarfed the desk. Titama reached for one of the shelves as she circled around the office, the one covered in traditional weapons and old mementos. Her hand found a heavy Patu Onewa made of basalt. The Patu Onewa was a simple but effective weapon shaped like a small paddle but rounded and thick like a club. Without hesitation, Titama raised the club and swung it into Muturangi’s outstretched hand. The delicate bones in his fingers and hand shattered. Muturangi screamed as his arm was tossed aside by the blow. With another sickening crack, Titama swung the Patu Onewa into the side of Muturangi’s head. Muturangi fell, dropping to one knee on the carpet beside his desk.

“I’m not-, the bad guy, we-, we can-,” Muturangi mumbled.

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Titama hit him in the top of the skull and the skin split open. Blood sprayed out of the wound as Muturangi went boneless and tumbled to the floor. Titama raised the Patu Onewa again. The smooth, heavy club came down over and over with bone-breaking power and precision, cracking Muturangi’s skull open like an oyster and turning his brains to jelly.

When Titama was finished she dropped the traditional club onto Muturangi’s desk, blood splattering the wood finish. Her arm ached and her body was covered in pains. A red handprint was left on the side of the desk as Titama supported herself. At least she knew the secret part of the Farm downstairs was shut down. With Muturangi’s death it would be shut down for good. Titama wasn’t sure if it was worth it for the sake of a dozen clones but it was the decision she had made so no use stewing on regrets now. Bending over as she circled around the desk, Titama picked up the bright blue gun Muturangi had tried to use on her.

Carrying the handgun, Titama left Muturangi’s office and wandered back toward the massive function room. Two figures were waiting for her. Fat and thin, both half-hidden in the shadows, were Skux and Riotgrrrl. Both were bruised but had recovered consciousness from their earlier beating. Riotgrrrl was carrying her pair of batons. Skux had picked up a club, nothing fancy like the Patu Onewa Titama had just used but a plain metal baseball bat.

“Where’s Muturangi? We heard the shot, you shoot him?” Riotgrrrl said.

“Dead, you want to join him?” Titama said.

“I’ll kill you!” Riotgrrrl said.

Riotgrrrl screamed, running at Titama. Her two batons were drawn back, ready to sweep around and batter. Titama lifted the handgun and fired almost offhandedly. The bullet punched Riotgrrrl in the chest and threw her backward. Batons flying from her hands, Riotgrrrl dropped. Skux was standing in the same spot, stunned and maybe a little concussed as Titama moved the gun toward him. She fired and the second shot cut Skux down as well. He fell over, blood streaming from the side of his head. Titama let her arm fall to her side, the 3D printed gun’s thick barrel smoking.

“I’ve got to get out of here,” Titama said.

The building was abandoned now that Titama had killed everyone except the geeks, who had fled. She tucked the handgun into the back of her belt, covering it with her shirt. Her coat was downstairs and she didn’t have time to retrieve it. Scrubbing her hands together, Titama moved toward the front doors. One leg lagged behind her as she did.

As soon as Titama stepped outside she was painted by light. Blue and red strobes splashed the walls and her face. Titama looked up and saw a police drone and a hovercar flying directly above. Their spotlights blinded her.

Titama could only sigh. They were there so fast, there was no way she could have gotten away. The two escaped clone techs wouldn’t have called the cops so it must have been the gunshots that had drawn them. Titama had heard how the drones’ parabolic mics could pick gunfire up from half a city away, she’d just never seen it for herself. The hovering drone’s .50 cal machine gun and tear gas cannon were both pointed at her on the stoop.

“Get down on the ground! Remove any weapons you are carrying and put your hands above your head!” A boosted voice from the cop cruiser said.

Using only two fingers, Titama removed the bright blue gun from the back of her belt where she’d just placed it moments ago. She held it out, dangling from her fingertips so the cops could see she was cooperating, and tossed it into the nearby bushes. Raising her bloodstained hands, Titama sunk to her knees in resignation. The police vehicles descended on her with more on the way.