Valiant: Tales From The Drift

[Tails #20: The Primsex]

Log Date: 2/22/12764

Data Sources: Jazel Jaskolka, Lysanne Arrignis

Event Log: Jazel Jaskolka

Location: Unknown

8:08pm SGT

When we are reincarnated, we are not meant to remember what came before.

Reincarnation, and all that comes with it, are not accurately represented by what is portrayed in common entertainment. Fiction too often portrays reincarnation as a convenient repository of wisdom that can be acquired by remembering one’s past lives. Or in romances, as the crisscrossing of starbound lovers that will find their way to each other once they remember their past lives, whether together or apart. In epics, reincarnation is the tool by which heroes are born again in times of need, to answer the call of destiny once they have recalled their past lives as defenders against darkness. So many believe that remembering one's past lives is the path to empowerment, to enlightenment, to destiny. In some rare instances, it can be those things.

In most other instances, it is, above all else, a path to madness.

A life is a finite thing, full of experiences and a unique combination of memories that define an individual. It is a careful balance of beliefs cultivated and shaped by events that could never be perfectly replicated in exactness. Each life is unique, even if they belong to the same soul born time and time again.

To remember the lives that came before is to recall iterations of yourself with whom you wholly disagree; with whom you may be disgusted or horrified by; or feel inadequate when compared against the glory of past selves. And yet you must accept the truth that these people were once you, no matter how much their lives horrify or disgust you; no matter how small or underachieving they may make you feel in comparison. But accepting this truth comes with the threat of being swallowed whole by it; for how can you say who you are when every answer attached to that question is simultaneously the right answer?

The answer is that you cannot.

Maintaining a sense of current self, while also remembering one’s past selves, would require a constant cognitive dissonance so massive as to be functionally impossible. Those of us that are reincarnated are meant to forget our past lives, at least during our mortal tenure, because remembering them, drawing back the veil, is a path to madness. To remember our past lives, while alive, entirely defeats the purpose of living in the first place: to experience things new and untainted, to gain new perspectives that could not be acquired through the hardened opinions of lives already lived.

This is the curse that Aurescura thrust upon us when she sealed the heavens.

It was a curse made optional when Maugrimm shattered the Cycle.

A curse for which I took the risk, in the space between lives.

A curse for which I now suffer as the Aurescurans of old, losing my sanity while I struggle to hold onto who I am, amid the numberless voices of who I used to be. Bit by bit, the sorcerer has been extracting those voices, and yet the endless congregation in my head never seems to get any quieter. I curl up on the padded bed after every extraction session, clutching my head as I try to remain distinct from the uncountable legion, fighting to distinguish who I was from who I am. Struggling to discern which memories belong to this life, and which memories belong to others; a struggle heightened by how they are mixed together without rhyme or reason. Trapped in this padded room, I have no way to go back to the places I have been, to tie memories to locations so I can demarcate the ones that are from the ones that have been.

I slip away, piece by piece, a little more every day, even though there is no way to tell time in here. I know I am waiting, but I cannot remember what I was waiting for. In the end, there is only one lodestar left, a definite memory which keeps me from losing myself entirely, and strengthens my will to endure:

A ninetailed vixen, and a smoldering fury from when she called me weak.

Event Log: Lysanne Arrignis

C.R. The Broken Record: Cargo Bay

9:04pm SGT

“Nuh-uh. I ain’t doin’ it. Absolutely not.” Huck says, folding his arms.

“I’m just sayin’, ya missin’ out.” Milor shrugs, checking the plasma shotgun that he bought recently. The rest of us — Kayenta, Dandy, and myself — are getting ready in the cargo bay of The Broken Record. We’re currently on one of the landing pads on the Primsex, readying ourselves for storming Grimes’ compound.

“The only thing I’m missing is getting my face rearranged.” Huck says firmly. “I learned my lesson after Halomorian. Y’all trouble. I’ll be the bus driver if you want, but don’t expect me to tag along and risk my ass for shit I ain’t getting paid for.”

“If you would like to provide an invoice for services rendered, I will submit it to CURSE’s finance department.” Dandy offers. “As CURSE is not devoting resources to retrieving one of their contractors, it is entirely reasonable to bill them the expense for those which are.”

“He won’t take us up on that. He’s paranoid that CURSE is going to track him down if they pay him.” I explain to Dandy, checking the rocket launcher before slinging it across my back.

“I see.” she states, checking the stunner rifle she pulled out of the Drift’s admittedly sparse armory. “Would you like to request payment in non-traceable material goods, Mr. Huckleberry? I cannot guarantee that the request will be approved, but there is no harm in asking.”

Huck raises an eyebrow at Dandy. “…you’d do that for me?”

“This rescue would not be possible without your assistance. Given the Drift’s affiliation, it is unlikely we would’ve been able to dock with the Primsex.” Dandy states as she hangs the rifle on her shoulder by the strap. “While I doubt the legality of your habits elsewhere, I cannot deny the goodwill demonstrated in helping us rescue someone that is essentially a stranger to you, despite not receiving compensation for it.”

Huck gives Dandy an apprising look. “…y’know, I’m kinda glad I jailbroke you. You’re not bad, as Challenger adjutants go.” He looks Milor, motioning to Dandy. “You see that? Why can’t you be a bit more like her?”

Milor gives him an incredulous look. “Did I really just hear those words come out of your mouth?”

“Look, I’m just sayin’, a little bit of appreciation every now and then goes a long way.” Huck shrugs. “A little thank you here and there wouldn’t be out of order.”

“Yer gonna be sitting your ass in here chomping chips and sippin’ on a beer while I’m out riskin’ my life!” Milor protests. “Why should I thank you for being a coward?”

“Seriously?” Huck demands. “Are you seriously calling your unpaid pilot a coward right now?”

“Oh, like you’re the only unpaid person here.” Milor scoffs. “I ain’t seen a paycheck for the better part of six months but it ain’t keeping me from risking my life for someone else.”

“Alright boys, it ain’t a contest.” I cut in before they can keep going. “Huck, you don’t have to come if you don’t want to. I don’t want to risk losing our pilot and our ticket out of here,  so if you want to stay with your ship, that’s fine by me. Just be ready for a hot exit if we return in a rush.”

“Can we go now? We are wasting time.” Kayenta demands from where she’s standing by the ramp door. “We are not here to argue. We are here to retrieve Jazel.”

“Cool your jets, Fluffy McFoxtails.” Milor says, heading towards the door. “You don’t just go charging out into the biggest mobile black market in the galaxy. This place is like Halomorian; everyone here is some flavor of criminal. We’ll need to stay tight, tread lightly, and no getting distracted or wandering off. It’s not hard to find a fight here; sometimes it’ll come looking for you, but the only fight we want to get into is the one we’re having with Grimes. So keep your head down and don’t stare too much at other people while we’re out there, got it?”

Kayenta just glares at him. “Are we leaving yet?”

“Lord give me patience. You’re just cravin’ that witchdick somethin’ fierce, ain’tcha.” Milor says, rolling his eyes as he turns to me and Dandy. “Y’all ready to roll?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” I say after checking my deckholder and buzz baton. “Dandy?”

“I am prepared.” Dandy says as she finishes shouldering the pack that contains a couple extra warheads for the rocket launcher. “Let us depart. Assuming the Primsex runs on Standard Galactic Time, it should currently be on the night cycle. Hopefully this means there will be fewer people about and less chance of adverse encounters on our way to Grimes’ compound.”

“I wouldn’t get your hopes up.” Huck says. “It’s a black market, a den of sin, depravity, and crime. It’s business during the day, and at night, a lot of them stay up to play.”

I glance over my shoulder at him. “They’ve gotta sleep sometime.”

Huck snorts. “Ain’t nobody got time for sleep when you’re earmarked for an early grave. Everyone that works the black market knows they’re livin’ on borrowed time. Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow you die.”

“Yeah, hard pass on that. I’ll stick with my decidedly legal career.” I say, turning back to the door. “System, open the ramp door.”

“Voiceprint not valid.”

“Oh, for crying out loud…” I mutter. “Huck?”

I can hear the smirk in his voice. “System, open ramp door.”

There’s a clunk as the door unlocks, then a hiss as the atmosphere equalizes between the ship and the exterior. The ramp door starts to lower, and inch by inch, I’m treated to my first view of the Primsex.

And I don’t like what I see.

We’re parked at the docks on the Primsex, docks that are large as any orbital shipyard I’ve ever seen. They seem to stretch for at least a mile on either side of us, and for a couple decks above and below us. Freight drones haul cargo to and from ships, some of the containers housing live specimens that rattle their walls as they’re moved. Other landing pads and cargo shipments have their own security details, although calling them ‘details’ might be a little generous — most of them are just gang muscle with guns, there to discourage freight thieves or rival groups from making off with their goods.

“Charming.” I mutter, starting down the ramp. “I’m feeling bitter already.”

“It smells in here!” Kayenta protests, covering her nose as she starts down the ramp with us. “Can you smell it? It smells of droppings, and blood, and death, and strange, unnatural things.”

“That, my dear, is the smell of unregulated capitalism.” Milor says, taking a deep breath in as he moves to the front of our group, his boots thudding over the metal floor. “This is a market free from rules or ethics. Supply and demand are the only laws here, the king and queen that govern this place. Nothing here is off limits, so long as you’re willing to pay list price for it.”

“You seem to know an awful lot about how this place works.” I mutter as we cross the docks towards one of the archways that leads into the interior of the Primsex. “Something you want to tell us, Milor?”

“Been here a time or two.” Milor says, shrugging it off as we pass a pallet of stacked missiles that are being pushed back towards one of the pirate-marked battlecruisers that’s sitting at dock. “Work-related. If you want to catch scum, sometimes you gotta go wade into the swamp for a bit.”

“Stuff I’m sure you did during your Challenger days, doubtless.” I murmur. I’m still a little torqued about the fact that he’d been hiding that from us the entire time.

Milor rolls his eyes at hearing the brittle reference. “Look, blondie. I ain’t done nothin’ but help y’all, so I don’t see what it matters about what I used to be.”

“Yeah, well it’s a little hard to trust you when you aren’t being honest about who you are.” I mutter as we pass into the shadow of one of the wide tunnels leading into the Primsex interior. The tunnel itself is lit with strips of sickly green; it’s not clear whether it’s a designer choice or just what they had available. Either way, it makes it hard to see the details of the people that are in the tunnel with us.

“Let’s be honest, if I’d told you at the start, you would’ve kicked me out the airlock or turned me over to CURSE.” Milor says.

“At the start, yeah. But you could’ve told us once we’d gotten comfortable with you.”

“It wasn’t relevant at that point.”

“It was totally relevant! You’re walking around our ship with all access to some of the critical functions and the ability to evade detection! You see how that might be a major impediment to trusting someone?”

“Keep it down, we’re in a tunnel.” Milor says, hushing me. “Everything echoes in here.”

“Trying to avoid the topic. Typical.” I mutter, looking around nonetheless. Though the people passing through this tunnel are few and scattered, I can’t see their faces in the sickly green dark, and that makes me uneasy.

“The floor is dirty.” Kayenta remarks abruptly. I look over my shoulder to see that she’s hitched one of her bare feet up; it looks like she’s stepped in something. Chemicals that might’ve spilled from a barrel falling off a freight dolly. “I do not like this place. All of it reeks of sickness and strange things.”

“Jeez, I can’t believe we let you off the ship without shoes…” I sigh to myself, waving her over. “Stay close to us. We’ll wash your feet once we can find some water, maybe find you some shoes if we get the chance…”

“I do not like feet coverings.”

“Well, would you rather have your feet covered in fabric, or covered in toxic chemicals?”

Kayenta just scowls as she falls in step beside me. “We should burn this place to the ground once we have retrieved my witchling.”

“There’s several problems with that statement, but the first one is that this place is massive, and it’s made of metal, so it’s not gonna burn easy.” Milor says over his shoulder. “The second is that this… place is in space. There’s no ground for it to burn to.”

“It is another city in the sky?” Kayenta says, looking around the tunnel. “Like the one where they did tests on me?”

“Not quite.” Dandy answers as we start to come up on the end of the tunnel. “The CURSE HQ is a mobile staging platform. The Primsex, despite its size, technically a ship due to the frequency of its movements. Unlike mobile fortresses and staging platforms, the Primsex was designed expressly with interstellar travel as its core purpose. She is a relic from another era, a generational colony ship once known as the Primary Succession II, which was used to carry colonists from planet to planet within the Myrrdicato galaxy. It’s how many of the systems in Myrrdicato were seeded with humanity’s descendants. Once she started to fail, she was idled and left in orbit around a moon, and for years people debated over whether she should be scrapped, restored, repurposed, or turned into an orbital museum. The debate was rendered moot when she was stolen by pirates, and flown into dark space, where she disappeared for decades before reemerging as the Primsex, refitted and rearmed as a mobile black market and staging ground for various criminal elements. Since then, she’s been roving the galaxy, enabling hundreds of illicit industries and providing a safe haven for all manner of criminals and the organizations that employ them.”

Kayenta’s brow furrows. “This is a bad place, then, full of bad people. Why hasn’t anyone destroyed it?”

“It’s not for lack of trying.” Milor snorts. “Plenty of nations, coalitions, even the Challengers, have tried. It’s hard to find her because of her continuous movement, and even if you can catch her, she’s bristling with guns. Plus, there’s the local fleet to deal with. You saw how many pirate ships were parked at the docks. Anyone that uses the Primsex for business is obligated to defend her if they are present when she is attacked. If you run, the Primsex government locks you out of the Primsex market for life. And then there’s the matter of her army.” He holds his arms out as we leave the tunnel, stepping into the colossal interior of the Primsex. “At any given point in time, the Primsex is home to a hundred thousand hardened criminals and mercenaries, all armed to the teeth with no end of illegal weapons and tech, and with the means to keep making more if they ever start to run out.”

I slow to a halt as we leave the darkness of the tunnel. Before us is a breathtakingly huge vista, miles wide and deep. The interior of the Primsex is partially hollow; it looks like it was probably once divided into different sectors and decks, but has been eaten away through the years, chunks excavated and carved away to make room for other installations or superstructures built on the ship’s exposed skeleton. Buildings abound on every exposed and terraced level of the ship, often built in a haphazard, cramped fashion that clearly demonstrates the absence of zoning laws or building regulations. Roads are defined by the placement of buildings and not the other way around, and some portions of the overbuilt districts have been left to languish in ruins either because of abandonment or because of factory explosions or other manufacturing disasters. Production smoke rises from several other factories throughout the Primsex, and the entire interior is shaded in hues of pale green and steel gray.

“Maugrimm have mercy.” I murmur, crossing the street to the overlook on the other side. “I mean, the ship looked big from the outside, but this is…”

“I’ll admit that scale and complexity of the chaos here is perversely fascinating.” Dandy agrees, coming to the overlook to gaze out at the lawless kingdom before us. “The city planning leaves something to be desired, but I can discern the core pillars of a functioning society amid the unregulated sprawl. I can identify various districts that specialize respectively in entertainment, manufacturing, trade, housing, governance, retail, and dining.”

“What’s that thing?” Kayenta asks as she joins us, pointing to what looks like a flat black circle in the middle of the ship’s hollow space. The air around it is prismed by a shield, created by twin emitter towers that rise towards it from the bottom and the top of the hollow. Platforms orbit around it, six of them that I can count, each one containing its own district of buildings.

“That is a testament to both the insanity and the ingenuity of the criminal world.” Milor says, sauntering up behind us. “Someone thought it would be a good idea to build a containment field for a small black hole and use it to power the Primsex. So they did.”

“Wait, are you serious?” I demand incredulously. “What if the containment field fails? This entire place will collapse into the black hole in a fraction of a second!”

“That should not be possible. There are no nations which possess the technology advanced enough to contain and transport singularities.” Dandy says, perplexed. “Some nations have produced limited examples of miniaturized stellar fusion, but anything larger than that is demonstrably impossible with the galaxy’s current technological level.”

“Relax, relax. The containment field’s not going to fail, and it’s not impossible.” Milor assures us. “They didn’t build it themselves; they just jerry-rigged some Draginian artifacts that they got their hands on. It’ll be fine; this thing’s been in here for decades. Which is just as well, because where we need to go is one of those platforms that’s orbiting it.”

“Jerry-rigged some Draginian artifacts.” I repeat in disbelief. “They cobbled together a containment field, using tech that nobody understands, to contain and harness a black hole, then stuck it in the middle of a densely populated space.” After a moment to let that sink in, I shake my head. “I have no words.”

“Good, because we’d be wasting time talking about it.” Milor says, turning and marching along the sidewalk. “Let’s roll. I’m looking forward to seeing the look on Grimes’ face when we turn up at his front door.”

We follow him without a word, moving along this terrace of the Primsex in search of a taxi, of which I’ve actually seen a surprising number here. I suppose in a den of crime and sleaze as big as this, not everyone’s going to own a personal or work vehicle to get around, and none of the big crime rings want to shell out for public transportation — hence the taxi infestation. People have to get around somehow, and walking isn’t gonna cut it.

“We are close to my witchling?” Kayenta murmurs. I glance to the side to see she’s walking near me, carefully eyeing the few people that are still out and about during the night cycle. Her many silver tails are drawing attention; there are more eyes following us than I’m comfortable with.

“Yes. It won’t be long now.” I answer. “You shouldn’t call him your witchling. He isn’t your property.”

“He is mine. We made a pact.” Kayenta replies, her yellow-orange eyes still scouring the streets.

I want to argue with her, but I know it’s not going to go anywhere. “Fine.” I say. “But if he is yours, you have to take care of him.”

Her gaze flicks to me. I don’t look away.

“If something belongs to you, you have to take good care of it.” I tell her. “Or it might be taken away from you and given to someone else that will treat it better.”

She looks away again. “I will take care of him.” she says after a moment.

“For your sake, I hope you do.” I say as Milor flags down one of the local taxis. “Now let’s go get him back.”

Dan Splainsworthy’s Encyclopedia Galactica

Draginian Artifacts

Draginian artifacts are, as one might expect, artifacts left behind or abandoned by the ancient race known as the Dragine. They are uniformly matte black in coloration, often polygonal in shape and design, and very nearly indestructible by any means commonly accessible to the contemporary nations and races of Myrrdicato. Those that have handled them state that they are like stone, but unusually dense and heavy. While they are sometimes found around abandoned Dragine facilities and outposts (which are often composed of the same material), artifacts are just as often found on their own, scattered across the galaxy in locations that are often isolated or hard to reach.

The purpose and function of most Draginian artifacts is often oblique and difficult to discern, largely owing to the fact that the Dragine themselves are thought to be the most advanced race in the galaxy, both in terms of technology and evolution. As such, modern researchers and scientists trying to harness or decode the leftover fragments of Dragine technology are often compared to lab rats trying to make sense of a computer. The level of technological advancement involved in Dragine artifacts is so far beyond current understanding that researchers can only grasp at their functions, trying dimly to understand the fundamentals that govern them.

However, a failure to understand the function of most Dragine artifacts does not mean they are useless. Many such artifacts produce phenomena that can be studied and sometimes even harnessed; and all Dragine artifacts passively generate Draginian radiation. Barring all else, an artifact can, at the very minimum, be relied on as a consistent and apparently limitless source of power. This is typically how most artifacts controlled by nation-states are used if they are unable to make any significant scientific breakthroughs by studying them.

It goes without saying that Draginian artifacts are extremely valuable, not only because of their inherent power-generation capability, but because of the phenomena they sometimes produce, their research value, and their surpassing rarity. Draginian artifacts are not easy to come by; nations and organizations often put considerable effort into acquiring them if the opportunity presents. Since Draginian artifacts can only be created by the Dragine, the supply of artifacts is limited to the ones already known to exist, and whatever other artifacts that are yet to be secured or claimed. There are just slightly over a thousand known Dragine artifacts currently within the possession of the various nations and organizations of Myrrdicato, with at least a few hundred more suspected to be kept in secret for various research projects and initiatives.

Event Log: Lysanne Arrignis

Primsex: Island 4

10:51pm SGT

“Well, this is it.” the taxi driver says as we pull to a stop on the side of the road. It’s actually marked with lines and proper sidewalks and curbs; it turns out the orbiting islands around the black hole house the higher-end businesses and criminal headquarters in the Primsex, so the standard of living is more luxurious here. As are the taxi fees. “The business you’re looking for is just down the street, in the middle of the roundabout.”

“Seems about right for a man with his kind of ego.” Milor mutters. “Building his business on a roundabout, making himself the center of attention.” Opening the door, Milor starts to get out. “Well, thanks for gettin’ us here. I’d ask if you wouldn’t mind staying to give us a ride back, but it might be a hot exit, and I’m not sure you’d want to be involved in that.”

The taxi driver shrugs. “If you’re willing to shell out for it. I can start the wait time meter right now, and if you need a speedy getaway, I’ll charge you the heist rate on the return.”

“We’re gonna be coming back with someone.” I say as I get out of the taxi. “Will you be able to fit an extra person?”

The driver grimaces. “Oooh, that’s a tall ask. You already know the car was full up with just you guys. If you’re coming back with someone, it’s going to cost you extra, and we’ll have to throw them in the trunk or lay ‘em across your laps in the back. Double if they’re dirty or they’re bleeding. Same goes for the rest of you, I’ll have to add a cleaning charge for anyone that’s bleeding on my seats.”

“How much is that gonna work out to?” Milor asks, scratching under his hat.

“Roughly triple or quadruple what the trip here cost us, factoring in the wait time, increased rate for the return, extra charge for additional passenger, and cleaning charges for any dirty or injured passengers.” Dandy says as she gets out. “Money is no object, however. If it means a swift exit once we have secured Jazel, we should pay it.”

“Easy to say ‘money is no object’ when you’re not the one paying for it.” Milor mutters.

“If the cost is uncomfortable, then I will cover it with one of the company’s credit lines, Deputy.” Dandy says. I notice she avoids mentioning CURSE directly, and likely for good reason. That name would probably raise some hackles around here. Moving over to the driver’s side, she leans down. “Can we conclude this ticket and start a new one for the return? I will cover the cost.”

“Sure thing, hon.” the driver says, reaching over to start resetting her meters. “Just tap your chip to the billing pad here…”

Once the meter’s been set for the return trip, Dandy rejoins us as we head down the sidewalk on our way towards the roundabout. “The bill is paid. We should make this quick. The rate on wait time is two credits a minute.” she says.

“Jeezus.” Milor mutters. “Talk about a racket. Wish I could get paid that much to sit around and wait.”

“The rates are likely a product of the lack of regulation and governmental oversight on the Primsex.” Dandy answers, checking her stun rifle. “Also contributing is the fact that we’re in one of the more upscale parts of the Primsex. The occupants of the orbital islands are financially comfortable, and so the taxis that operate here can charge higher rates without inflicting too much discomfort.”

“Bunch of parasites is what they are.” Milor grumbles, checking his shotgun, then looking down the street at the roundabout. Resting within it is what looks like a research facility, and not one of the grungy ones that can be seen on the lower terraces of the Primsex. This one’s shaped almost like a tiered wedding cake, with rounded walls and a glass facade making up the front lobby. It’s a professional affair, though this late in the night cycle, the lights are out and the windows are dark, like the rest of the businesses on this street. “Right, so here’s the plan. Front door’s probably locked, so you guys wait across the street. I’ll go up, check it and see if we can get in. If not, I’ll ring the doorbell and see if they’ll let us in. If not, blondie can put that rocket launcher to use. Any objections?”

“I will admit that I was hoping for something a bit more circumspect.” Dandy says, the displeasure in her voice audible. “Starting off with a ruckus will draw attention.”

“Might be a problem in a normal city, but this is the Primsex, strawberry soda.” Milor says, flicking the safety off on his shotgun. “No police here. So long as we keep this localized and don’t have any spillover to the rest of the businesses on this block, the local authorities don’t give a shit. Fluffy McFoxtails, we’re going to keep you in reserve until Grimes shows up, okay? He’s a cut above his shadowpacting sycophants.”

Kayenta stares blankly at Milor, then looks to me to translation.

“You stay at the back until the sorcerer shows up.” I explain. “Once Grimes shows up, you can go after him. You’re stronger than the rest of us, so you’ll be able to handle him easier.”

Kayenta frowns at that, but doesn’t argue. “Fine. I will wait until the sorcerer shows up. But if one of you needs help, I will act.”

“Strawberry soda, once we’re inside, I’ll take point, if you don’t mind covering my sides.” Milor says. “That way blondie and Fluffy can bring up the rear while we clear the way forward—”

“Would it kill you to use our actual names?” I demand.

“Yes. I would die a death by boredom.” Milor says as we reach the roundabout. “Right, you guys wait here. If we need an explosive entrance, I’ll give you the signal.”

With that, he starts across the street, shotgun hanging from one hand as he goes. Reaching up, I pull the rocket launcher off my back, and start loading the attached rocket into it. “I’m guessing we’ll know his signal when we see it.” I sigh.

“Presumably.” Dandy agrees. “He seems to be enjoying this immensely.”

“Now that you mention it, he does look pretty lively.” I agree, watching as he reaches the front doors and starts banging on them. “Guess this is his element, since he used to be a Challenger. Doing stuff like this seems to get him revved up.”

“He may test my patience at times, but in times like these, I am glad we have someone with a skillset such as his.” Dandy says. “Our chances for success would suffer in his absence.”

“Agreed.” I concur. “Do you happen to have a number on those chances, by the by? Just… curious.”

“I have an incomplete dataset, so I cannot render a full probability calculation.” Dandy demurs. “And even if I could, I do not think it would be wise to recite the percentages to you.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Knowledge of the probability alters the probability itself and can bias several factors, such as confidence and focus. Merely telling you our chances for success would affect our chances for success.”

“Right. So you’re not going to tell me what our chances are.”

“Our best chance comes from focusing on what we’re doing, so let’s do that.”

Our little back and forth comes to a halt as someone surprisingly responds to Milor’s banging and shouting on the front doors. Through the glass, at least from this distance, I can see that it’s one of the shawled elves that Grimes employs. The conversation that’s had is short, mostly involving escalating shouting between Milor and the elf, shouting at each other through the door, before the elf closes the door for good and relocks it. Backpedaling, Milor throws up twin middle fingers towards the elf, then turns and points at me as he continues backing away from the front door.

“Well, as signals go, I’ve seen worse.” I mutter, taking a knee as I heft the rocket launcher up on my shoulder and sight through the viewfinder. “Can you make sure Kaya isn’t standing behind me and tell me when Milor’s clear of the blast radius, Dandy?”

“Kaya, come stand by me.” Dandy orders. “Milor is clear, Ms. Arrignis. Fire at will.”

“Knock knock.” I murmur as I lock onto the heat signature of the elf still lingering behind the front doors, and pull the trigger. There’s a roaring hiss as the warhead hurtles out of the tube, leaving a trail of smoke on the way to the front doors. In the two seconds before it hits, the elf sees it coming, and starts to throw himself out of the way.

Then it hits the doors and explodes, blowing them to pieces as the entire glass facade shatters, pane by pane as the shockwave rips across it. The blast shakes the entire block, setting off alarms for several parked cars; as the blast fades into smoke, glass finishes falling to the ground, and I stand up, starting across the street. Dandy reaches into her pack, pulling out the next rocket so I can start loading the launcher again. Milor’s already moving ahead of us, disappearing into the smoke as sirens in the building go off and the fire suppression system kicks on.

“Think we woke them up?” I ask Dandy as we come up on shattered facade.

“I would envy those that could sleep through something like that.” Dandy says, moving ahead of me and raising her rifle as the sound of a shotgun blast echoes in the lobby. “Please remain behind me, Ms. Arrignis.”

“Ladies first.” I smirk, letting her go ahead, then stepping through the smoke with Kayenta following me.

Inside the lobby, water’s sprinkling down from the ceiling. The lights are off, but the glow from the aquarium behind the receptionist’s desk provides some dim illumination, and it isn’t much longer before a cold blue glow fills the room, emanating from behind me. Looking back, I can see that Kayenta’s lifted a hand, a blue sphere rising off her fingers and drifting in the air above us. In the new light, I can see Milor stepping over the plasma-scorched body of another elf as he comes to the receptionist’s desk, looking over it, then back at us. “The second guy came from the left hall. It stands to reason that they would devote manpower to guarding prisoners, so I think we should move in the direction the resistance is coming from.”

I look to Dandy, who shrugs. “His logic is sound. It may not be correct, but it is a good place to start.” she offers. “We should remain grouped together. Splitting up is tactically inadvisable.”

“Left hall it is, then.” I say, angling in that direction.

“On it.” Milor says, pushing off the receptionist’s desk and pumping his shotgun a couple times to fill the chamber with more superheated plasma. “Strawberry soda, you mind bringing up the rear?”

“Gladly.” Dandy replies, turning and walking backwards as Kayenta and I follow Milor into the left hall.

“Surprised we haven’t encountered more resistance.” I murmur as we follow the curving hall around. The entire facility seems to form a ring around a central courtyard that we can glimpse now and again through the windows.

“It’s almost midnight. I assume most of Grimes’ lackeys don’t sleep on-site.” Milor replies, keeping his shotgun up as he sweeps through the hall. “For the moment, it’s just the night guards. If we make this quick, we might be able to get out of here before he can wake up the rest of his mooks and get them down here.”

“I can sense him.” Kayenta announces suddenly. I look over my shoulder to see she’s stopped in the hall, silver ears perked and eyes wide. “The warding was on the outside of the building. Now that we are within it, I can sense him. He is in here.” Her eyes wander downwards, darting back and forth over the floor. “Down. He is below.”

“Jazel? You can sense Jazel?” I ask, just to make sure we’re on the same page.

“Yes. He is underneath us. There are rooms beneath this floor.” Kayenta says, starting to pace back and forth. “I cannot sense where exactly; there are other strange magics blurring my sense of him. But he is below us.”

“Well, that’s good to know— GAH!” Milor starts, then staggers when a lance of something that looks like pure, flat darkness nails him in the shoulder. Twisting around, he fires a blind shot down the hall, the superheated spray of yellow plasma briefly lighting up the hall and outlining another elf just around the curve. Rather than back off, Milor takes off down the hall, pumping and firing his shotgun, giving a Venusian war scream all the while. While the elf probably expected a lot of responses, that wasn’t one of them, and he staggers backwards, trying to run away. Both of them disappear around the curve in the hall, and shotgun blasts echo twice more before Milor’s screaming finally falls silent.

After shaking off my shock, I lean forward and start to sprint after him. “Milor? Milor, are you okay?” I shout, my grip on the rocket launcher tightening. Coming around the curve, I see Milor walking back towards us, checking the plasma cell in his shotgun.

“He’s been dealt with.” Milor says as we start to catch up to him. “Bastard ruined my duster. Gonna have to take it to the dry cleaner to get the bloodstains out.”

“Are you bleeding that much?” I demand, coming over and checking his shoulder where the shadow lance had nailed him. It’s wet to the touch, and there’s a hole in the leather.

“I’ve had worse.” Milor says, brushing my hand away. “Staple it shut or slap a bandage on it, it’ll be fine. We’ll worry about it later. We need to keep moving; I found a way to get downstairs. This way, and mind the body when I step over it.”

“If you must run off like that, please warn us going forward.” Dandy requests from the back of our group. “It is dangerous for us to get separated from each other, especially here.”

“Sorry. Just wanted to take care of a problem before it got out of hand.” Milor says, stepping over the body of the elf and then stopping in front of a pair of elevator doors that slide open for him. “This’ll take us downstairs.”

“Well, let’s not stand here waiting around.” I say, stepping in. The others are shortly in after me, Milor and Dandy staying at the front. As the elevator descends, Milor speaks over his shoulder.

“Alright, Fluffy, when we get down there, you need to be our navigator. We don’t know where Jazel is; you’re our compass.” Milor says. “Keep it simple; just a left, right, or straight is all I need. Are we clear?”

“I understand.” Kayenta answers. “You will be going right when we leave this box.”

“Quick learner. I like it.” he says as the elevator starts to slow down. “Strawberry soda, you got the rear again?”

“I will mind it.” Dandy confirms as the doors open.

“Perfect. God, what I would’ve given for a team like you all back in the day.” he says as we spill out into the hall. Down here, there are more lights on than there were upstairs; it has the sterile grey architecture of a straightforward research facility; the polished looks upstairs were probably just a veneer for the sake of impressing clients. Down here is where all the actual work probably takes place.

“Keep going. To the end of the hall.” Kayenta orders as we move down the hall at speed. “A right at the end of the hall. I can feel him getting closer.”

“Good, good…” Milor mutters, pausing and checking the corner before moving around it. “Strawberry soda, can you hack access pads?”

“Not quickly. I am not that kind of Cyber; I am equipped for logistics and resource management, not digital warfare.” Dandy replies. “I can make an attempt if circumstance requires it, but I cannot guarantee timely results.”

“Entirely fair. We’ll keep that on the backburner, then.” Milor says, almost jogging down the hall towards the door at the end. “Fluffy—”

“Straight ahead. I can sense him.” Kayenta says, keeping pace just behind him.

“Thought as much. You two watch the cross-halls. I think I can get this door open pretty quick.” Milor says, starting to pump his shotgun. “We still good back there, strawberry?”

“Still no contacts, Deputy.”

“That’s startin’ to make me nervous.” he mutters as we arrive to the door, Kayenta and I moving to watch the adjoining halls. “Right, cover your ears, this is going to be loud.”

I can’t exactly cover my ears with my rocket launcher in hand, so I just brace myself. A moment later, there’s a loud blast in the hall; I look back to see a hole melted clean through the door, where the locking mechanism would’ve been. Sticking the barrel of his shotgun in the hole, Milor uses that leverage to slide the door to the side.

Within is what looks a padded room, lowlit for now, with just a single padded bed in the center. Someone’s lying on it; Milor backs out of the way, motioning for me and Kayenta to step in. “You ladies go ahead. Dandy and I will watch the hall while you’re waking him and getting him up.” he says, turning to stand guard along with Dandy.

Kayenta’s in the room in the flash, and I’m soon after, slinging the rocket launcher across my back again. By the time I’m halfway across, she’s already at the bed, leaning over it; as I arrive, I can see it’s Jazel, and he’s awake, though only just barely. It seems like he was sleeping until Milor shot through his door; he doesn’t seem to be in great shape, looking paler than usual, with dark circles under his eyes — eyes that are hazy and don’t seem entirely lucid.

“Jazel, can you hear us?” I ask, sitting on the edge of the bed. “We are here to get you out. Can you stand?”

He blinks rapidly, his head turning back and forth as Kayenta’s hands wander over him, checking him for wounds or injuries. “This isn’t a dream, is it?” he rasps. “This is here. This is now?”

I furrow my brow at the question. “This is… now, yes. We are in the present.”

“It’s so hard to tell.” he rasps again, his voice sounding weak. “Hard to tell what’s memories. What’s dreams. Sometimes it’s both. They’re all jumbled together.”

“Well, we are right now. In the present.” I say, looking at the clothes they’ve got him in. They look like basic hospital scrubs, and there’s some sort of metal… glove, thing, locked around his left hand. “We’re getting you out. Can you stand up?”

“Yeah.” he says, gritting his teeth as he rolls over on his side. “You sure this isn’t a dream? I’ve dreamed of being rescued before.”

“I’m sure, because it’s not a dream for me, and Milor’s been stabbed in the shoulder. So let’s get up and get out of here.” I say, grabbing his arm and helping him sit up. I grimace when I feel how thin his arm seems through his sleeve; Jazel wasn’t exactly stocky before he was kidnapped, but it feels like he’s lost weight that he couldn’t afford to lose since then.

“Little feast, you are weak.” Kayenta says, taking his face in her hands as he sits up. “You must come with us, quickly. Stop being slow.”

“I’m not weak.” Jazel growls. As if to prove his point, he pushes to his feet, but staggers once he’s standing; Kayenta has to catch him and hold him steady.

“You are weak.”

“I’m not weak!”

“Alright you two, this is all very touching and emotional, but let’s keep it moving.” Milor calls from the hall. “We’re on the clock here. We need to get back upstairs and get out before Grimes and his gang get here.”

“Can’t leave yet.” Jazel grunts. “Need to go to the lab. Get the boxes.”

“What? What boxes?” Milor demands. “We don’t have time to be playing fetch quest—”

“Can’t leave without it.” Jazel wheezes, starting to lean more heavily on Kayenta. “They have my souls in it. Can’t leave without it.”

“Your souls?” I demand. “Did they take it out of you? Is that why you’re so weak?”

“Bits and pieces. For weeks. Bit by bit. Extracting it. Slowly, so it doesn’t kill me.” he says, his breathing still labored. “They processed it… put it in vials… put them in boxes in the lab… need to go get them. Can’t leave without it.”

“Maugrimm have mercy.” I murmur. “Alright, fine. We need to make this quick, though. Kaya, you carry him. Dandy, Milor, we need to hit the lab. They’ve been ripping off bits and chunks of Jazel’s soul for the last few weeks, and we need to go get it back. Jazel, where’s the lab?”

“Out the door. Right. Left. Left door.” Jazel grunts as Kayenta adjusts to pick Jazel up into a bridal carry.

“You hear that, Milor?” I call.

“Yeah, I heard it, but I don’t like it.” he calls back. “These better be small boxes. I can’t carry shit and shoot at the same time. Neither can Dandy. We need to have at least two people able to fight, so Kaya’s going to have to carry Jazel, and you’ll have to manage the boxes.”

“If that’s what it takes, that’s what we’ll do.” I say as we reach the door again. “Let’s move. Worse comes to worse, we can always escape with Jazel and come back for the boxes later.”

“I’m not sure there will be a later, blondie.” Milor says, starting down the right hall ahead of us. “After the mess we’ve made here, Grimes is going to have this place locked down tight; gettin’ back in after this is gonna be like gettin’ between a nun’s legs on Sunday. We’d need an army on the next go ‘round.”

“What is with you and nuns’ legs?” I demand as he slows to check the corner, then hangs a left. “You got a thing for nuns or something?”

“What? No! It’s a metaphor, ya know? For something that’s clammed up tighter than— you know what, forget it. I don’t even know why we’re discussing this in the middle of an extraction.” he gripes. “Jazel, you said the door was on the left?”

“On the left. Either one, doesn’t matter which one you use.” Jazel wheezes from Kayenta’s arms.

“We’re using the closest one, then.” Milor says, starting to pump his shotgun as he comes up on the door. “Stay back about ten feet. Same as before, this is gonna be loud. Cover your ears if you can.”

I turn slightly, covering my ears; another loud blast echoes in the hall, and I can see Jazel twitch in Kayenta’s arms as if the volume alarmed him. Milor’s already using the barrel of his shotgun to slide open the door by the time I turn around, and I follow in after him.

Within is a darkened laboratory, though it’s larger and has different equipment than the labs on the Drift. Some of it is similar — specialized scales for weighing specimens, glass chambers to keep them for observations and diagnostics. Long tables hold equipment for running experiments, but many of the tools or assemblies have a distinctly less ethical aesthetic than the iterations we have on the Drift. There’s one apparatus installed on the side of the lab in a section all it’s own, something that looks like a giant gyroscope — but with restraining cuffs on the innermost ring, as if subjects were meant to be strapped into the middle of it. A giant needle arm folded up above it, with hoses running from the needle to what looks like a sophisticated processing and bottling assembly.

“Alright, kid, direct us.” Milor orders as he starts moving between tables, and we follow along behind him. “Where are these boxes you’re talking abou—”

The door behind us slams shut, cutting him off, and the lights go out immediately after, pitching the room into near-total darkness. I twist around on instinct, and that’s probably what saves me, because half a second later, something slashes across my back — and though it hurts and throws me against one of the worktables, the rocket launcher slung across my back has blunted the worst of the impact, which might’ve decapitated me otherwise.

Still, there’s two lines of pain across the back of my neck, and when I reach back, I can feel blood where the attack still managed to nick my neck on either side of the rocket launcher’s tube. As I try to get my bearings, I can process that there’s shouting, the sound and light of shotgun blasts, along with the occasional flash of a stunner pulse. It’s all chaos and darkness, and not knowing what to do, I push off the table and go to the floor, trying to figure out where everyone is and what’s going on.

“Kaya, they’re shadowpacting! We need light!” I can Milor shout, a moment before he grunts — I’m assuming someone just hit him. Staying crouched low, I pull the rocket launcher off my back, fumbling to get in into firing position on my shoulder. The moment I do, a cold blue glow floods the laboratory as Kayenta throws up another orb like the one she summoned in the lobby on the first floor. By that harsh light, I can see the elves in the room, two of them on Milor, others behind the tables… and Grimes near the gyroscope.

I don’t hesitate, standing up enough to clear the edge of the table near me and leveling the rocket launcher at him. He sees me, but I don’t think he realizes what I’m doing until I’ve already pulled the trigger, the launcher kicking as the rocket hisses out of the tube. In a single second, it crosses the room, missing Grimes by inches but detonating against the wall behind him.

The blast, and the fact that we’re in a confined area, makes the explosion that much more intense. The detonation is thunderous; the shockwave knocks me back on the floor, does the same to Milor and the elves fighting him, and briefly blinds and deafens everyone in the room. While Kayenta’s wisp continues bathing the room in cold blue light, smoke fills the room, much of it lingering and turning into a noxious haze, rather than completely fading away. Fire alarms go off, and fire suppression systems kick on, replacing the smoke with a thick white gas that’s painted blue by Kayenta’s wisp.

“Shit.” I grunt, slinging the rocket launcher across my back again, and struggling to get to my feet, looking around for the others. Milor’s used the explosion to throw off both of the elves he was fighting, shooting at least one of them as he gets back to his feet. I’m losing sight of him as the gas starts to billow through the room, snuffing out the bits of broken wall and ceiling that had caught on fire. Hearing footsteps, I turn around — only to see that it’s an elf, with sickle in hand.

I back up as he starts towards me, ratcheting his arm backwards for a slash, but he drops a moment later, nailed in the back by a stun pulse. Coming through the haze behind him is Dandy, her rifle still leveled. “Ms. Arrignis. Are you okay? You are bleeding.”

“I’m fine, yeah. Just a couple nicks.” I say, looking back to where I last saw Milor, but it’s now obscured by the pale blue haze filling the room. “I saw Grimes and took the shot. It didn’t hit him, but it detonated pretty close to him. Do you know where the others are?”

“I will try to scan the room for them; however, the fire suppressant is inhibiting the range of my inbuilt sensors.” she says, lowering her rifle slightly and moving towards me. “Once we locate the others, we—”

A bolt of red lightning interrupts her, hitting her in the chest and dropping her to the ground in convulsions. I drop to the ground beside her as the rifle clatters out of her hands; it looks like she’s seizing, her pupils dilating and contracting rapidly as she does so. “Dandy? Dandy!”

“I must commend you on breaking my shield.” Looking up, I can see Grimes evanescing out of the haze, crimson arcs crackling along the fingers of one hand as he walks around the table to the aisle we’re on. “If I had not had it in place, you might’ve killed me outright. And it’s not often that someone shatters it so thoroughly that it can’t provide the backlash that it normally does.”

I reach to my deckholder to pull a card, but Grimes sees and points his hand at me. A moment later I’m lying on the ground, every nerve on fire as crimson arcs snap and crackle through me. It’s just like that moment in the sewers when he hit me with one of those red bolts; exactly like that moment. The pain is the same, leaving me gasping and wheezing for breath.

“I will give you props, also, for managing to track us back to my business to rescue your friend.” Grimes says, his cane echoing over the hard floor as he walks towards us. “You would be the first, and you have gotten further than anyone else ever has. I’d almost call it remarkable if it wasn’t so vexing.” As I start to reach for my deck holder again, and Dandy for her rifle, he points his hand down at us and hits each of us with a fresh surge of crimson lightning, sending us into a fit of convulsing and thrashing once again. “None of that now.” he says, kicking Dandy’s rifle away from her, then reaching down to yank my deckholder off me, and setting it on the table, out of reach.

“Milor.” I wheeze, struggling to get my voice loud enough to be heard. “Milor!”

“The deputy won’t be able to come save you.” Grimes says, using his foot to slide me across the floor, away from Dandy. “He’s a little preoccupied at the moment. Got his foot stuck in a beartrap. Should make it easier for my employees to earn their pay.”

“What did you do to us.” I rasp as I twist and curl on the floor. The lightning feels like fire under my skin, flowing in waves of agony that ripple back and forth through my body. Whatever it is, it’s affecting Dandy the same way, despite our differences in biology.

“Oh, this little trick?” Grimes says, raising the hand that’s crackling with red light. “This is redstream. The Ranters call it magic; the Viralix call it psionics; there’s some debate over what it really is. But what it really is, is painful. As I’m sure you’ve been able to deduce by now. There is some question as to the exact mechanism, but the working theory is that fuses open the pain receptors in the nervous system. I can’t say for sure, since there’s no peer-reviewed studies on the matter. The academic community has been a bit squeamish about researching redstream’s applications to the degree it deserves.” Standing between Dandy and myself, he looks down at both of us. “Not many people use it, and those that do, typically do so with lethal intent. But I’ve found it’s very useful for incapacitating individuals without bringing too much harm to them.”

“It’s unethical.” I wheeze, curling in on myself as the gears start to click. I have heard of this type of magic before, but I’d never seen it used because it was never used for anything good. Most normal people had no use for that kind of magic unless they were intent on committing violence. “Redstream is a forbidden art. You can be prosecuted for using it on others.”

“Oh, prosecution, whatever shall I do.” Grimes says, rolling his eyes. “It’s not like I’ve broken dozens of other laws. Oh, wait.” Lifting his cane, he plants it on the side of my head, pinning it against the floor despite my squirming. “Now, where is the witchling? I know you took him from his cell because the tamper sensors went off, and you wouldn’t have left without him. In fact, you wouldn’t have come to this specific lab room unless he’d directed you to it.”

“Eat shit.” I hiss at him.

“I’ll take your dietary recommendations with a grain of salt.” he replies, turning somewhat so he can see Dandy, who’s trying to get back to her hands and knees. “This must be one of your accomplices, yes? A friend. Someone you must clearly trust, if you’re bringing them with you on such a consequential mission.” With that, he opens his free hand, scouring her with redstream lightning again, and she collapses to the floor, twisting and writhing.

“Dandy!” I shout, reaching up to try to shove Grimes’ cane off my head, but he just applies further pressure, keeping me pinned down. Normally something as simple as a cane tip to the head wouldn’t keep me down, but the recent pain that’s wracked my body has left me feeling weak and limp. The single bolt I’d gotten in the sewers was bad, but Grimes has already hit me twice with this stuff, and based on what he’s doing to Dandy, he’s pretty judicious in using it to keep people down.

“Ah, so she is someone important.” Grimes remarks, easing up on the lightning for a bit. “Possibly more than a friend, with a reaction like that. I can’t say I blame you, honestly. She’s a stunning specimen. Bravo on making such a fine catch, but you really shouldn’t have brought someone so precious with you. They make for excellent leverage.” With that, his free hand starts to crackle again.

“No, stop!” I shout again, still trying to find the strength to get back up. “Don’t!”

Grimes gives an idle shrug as he looks back to me. “Very well. Tell me where the witchling is.”

I hesitate, then look at Dandy. She’s still convulsing and twitching, her digital-blue eyes hazed over and struggling to compute. I’m sure she’d be able to turn off her pain receptors if she was in control of herself, but at the moment she seems too scrambled to do that. And I can’t just lay here and watch Grimes torture her.

“I don’t know where he is.” I admit after a moment. “I lost track of him when the lights went out.”

Grimes lets out a sigh. “Well then, I have no use for either of you, do I.” Taking his cane off my head, he grabs the head of it, yanking and revealing that the cane is really a sheath for a sword. “Suppose I’ll just extract your souls and have done with it. I might as well be compensated for being woken at this ungodly hour.”

“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me.” I groan. “Jazel was telling the truth about the cane sword?!”

Grimes makes a tsking noise. “Not that I’m complaining, but if you had believed him in the first place, you might not be in this situation right now.” The sound of a thump, and a muted flash somewhere else in the lab, draws his attention. “Come on now, you worthless knife-ears! I’ve dealt with three of them on my own. You could at least try to pull your weight and deal with the rest of them!”

There’s no response, until an elf comes hurtling through the haze of suppressant a moment later, slamming into the table beside Grimes. The pale blue gas swirls again as Kayenta pounces onto the opposite table, crouched on it and snarling at Grimes. “Thief! You tried to steal my little feast from me!”

“Ah, here we go.” Grimes says, sheathing his cane sword. “Someone who will know where the witchling is. You can’t leave without him, can you? You know the multitudes he contains.”

“He is not yours to take!” she hisses. “I laid claim upon him first. You stole what was rightfully mine and for that you will die.”

With that, she launches herself off the table. Grimes takes a step back, banging his cane against the floor once; there are dim yellow glows across the room in response, and half a second later, luminous chains come shooting out from all directions, snaring Kayenta mid-leap. They snarl around her wrists, ankles, and neck, pulling tight and suspending her midair, just inches away from Grimes.

“Hmm. A little close. You almost had me there.” he says, reaching up to hook a finger in his collar, tugging at it as Kayenta thrashes and tugs at the chains. “But this is the room where we extract souls from our subjects. You didn’t think it wouldn’t come with a few safeguards, did you?”

Kayenta’s only answer is to spit and thrash, snarling and gekkering at him. Even with her incredible strength, she’s unable to break the chains; at most, she can strain and pull them towards herself, but she has nothing to push against, and no way to move from the spot where she’s been restrained midair. Taking a few steps back from all three of us, Grimes notices Dandy crawling towards her rifle, and hits her with another bolt of redstream lightning, then turns that hand towards me. I start to curl up on instinct, but then decide that if I’m going to die, I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing my fear, and I bare my teeth at him.

“I can do this all day.” Grimes says, his hand still crackling with red arcs as he sizes up all three of us. “I’ve seen this bravery before; it won’t last more than five minutes. None of you get to die until you tell me where the witchling is; it’s just a matter of who cracks first, and believe you me, one of you is going to crack. So, once more with feeling: where is the witchling?”

“Here.”

The rasp comes from behind Grimes, and I can see him start to smirk before he turns around. Jazel staggers out of the blue haze, unsteady on his feet and nearly collapsing into Grimes’ arms — and then without warning, swings his right arm up in a wild arc, clobbering Grimes in the side of the head with the microscope he’s holding.

The sudden violence is startling to everyone. Grimes is thrown flat on the floor beside me, blood gushing from where he got nailed in the head with the corner of the microscope’s base. Kayenta’s shrieking and gekkering stops dead. Jazel continues to stagger forward; it’s clear now that it’s the weight of the microscope unbalancing him, and there’s a look in his eyes that I’ve never seen before. It’s a cold, imperial authority; the look of an executioner marching towards the chopping block. Except he’s not marching; he’s staggering and swaying, and it’s terrifying to watch someone stumble so confidently, and with such murderous, singleminded intent.

Grimes shakes his head, holding a hand to his wound as he starts to raise the other towards Jazel, with red arcs crackling over it. But Jazel sees it and immediately swings his right arm, hucking the microscope at Grimes and nailing him dead in the face with it. I have to wince and look away for a moment; most people don’t realize how heavy microscopes are. It’s enough to knock Grimes flat on his back again, at least a couple of his teeth knocked out; a moment later, there’s a heavy thud as Jazel staggers over Grimes and collapses to his knees, using them to pin Grimes’ arms to the ground as he sits on the sorcerer’s chest.

“I have died a thousand times; a thousand times ten thousand times.” Jazel rasps, reaching down to grab Grimes’ face and hold it still with his right hand. “Will this be the first time you have died, Grimes?”

The dazed sorcerer blinks rapidly. Judging by the amount of blood on his face and being decked twice with a microscope, he might have head trauma, and may not be entirely coherent, but he manages to spit out blood at Jazel as his hands start to crackle with redstream energy again. “Putrid little—”

“Shhhhh, sh sh shh.” Jazel hushes him, the fingers of his metal-gloved hand curling into a fist just before he hammers a punch down on Grimes’ skull. There’s a crack as his head is knocked back against the concrete floor, and the red light around Grimes’ hands weakly fizzles out. “Say something nice before you die. Something meaningful. It makes for much better memories to look back on.”

But all Grimes does is spit more blood at Jazel. “You don’t have it in you.”

“I have everything I need in me. You know the multitudes I contain.” Jazel says, his right hand moving down curl around Grimes’ throat as he ratchets back his left hand, the one gloved in metal. “And you gave me everything I needed to end you.”

With that, he starts hammering Grimes mercilessly, pounding his metal-clad fist against the sorcerer’s head and face with abandon. With his arms pinned down by Jazel’s knees, Grimes can’t get his hands up to block the blows, and Jazel tilts forward as he’s pummeling Grimes, leaning his right hand on the sorcerer’s neck. The only sound in the lab becomes the thump-crack of Jazel’s metal fist slamming Grimes’ skull, and Grimes gasping and thrashing, trying to get free.

I find myself frozen in place as Jazel’s pummeling starts to become more wild and animalistic, as if irritated that Grimes won’t die. The hits come harder and faster, Grimes’ gasping devolving into grunting, and Jazel letting out a rasping growl as blood starts to pool on the floor under Grimes’ head. Even after Grimes has stopped struggling, Jazel keeps pummeling him; even when the yellow chains holding Kayenta fizzle out, indicating Grimes is dead, Jazel keeps punching and pounding a skull that’s starting to become misshapen. The whole time, I can’t help but watch in horror, at the rabid, singleminded fixation that’s come over him.

“Jazel!” I eventually shout. “Jazel, stop!”

He pauses in the middle of gearing back his arm for another punch, looking at me, then at Grimes. His narrow chest is heaving, his hospital scrubs splattered with blood, sweat beading on his skin from the exertion of literally beating a man to death with his own hands. Blood and tissue drip and hang from the grooves of his metal glove, which slowly relaxes out of a fist.

Letting it drop to his side, he sits back on his heels, his knees sliding off Grimes’ limp arms, looking around with wide eyes. Dandy, who’s still lying on her side but no longer writhing, is staring at Jazel with an unreadable expression; Kayenta, crouched on the floor behind her, is watching Jazel with tentative uncertainty, like she doesn’t want to come near him until she’s sure that he’s no longer berserk. When he catches sight of her, he locks on to her, and Kayenta shuffles backwards a few inches.

“I am not weak.” he rasps at her. It’s angry, spiteful, full of venom. “I am strong.”

With that, he starts to push to his feet, though he staggers and pitches over on his side before he can even get upright. Wheezing, he rolls over and starts to push to his hands and knees, though he looks dizzy even on all fours.

“Jazel, stop moving.” I order, managing to find my voice again. I start to get back up, and although my entire body still aches, it’s not agonizing to move any more. “Stay still. Take a moment and rest. You’re sick and exhausted—”

“I am strong!” he snaps at me, still trying to get to his feet.

“Ms. Arrignis, allow me.” Dandy says when I struggle to get upright on shaking legs. She stands up, much more steadily than me, and probably courtesy of her cyberorganic chemistry. Walking over to Jazel, she grabs Jazel by the shoulders. “Jazel, I am moving you away from the body. You cannot stand on your own. You are to sit and rest until you have caught your breath. Is that understood?”

Jazel’s only answer is labored breathing, but he makes no effort to resist, so Dandy drags him by the shoulders over to one of the tables, and turns him around so he’s sitting back against it. He goes limp once he’s there, still panting for breath. “My souls.” he rasps. “The boxes. Can’t leave…”

“We will find and secure whatever Grimes has extracted from you before we leave.” Dandy tells him, before turning and walking over to help me up. As she goes, I notice her stride is ginger, and I realize she must be aching just like I am as she pulls me up. “Ms. Arrignis—”

“Are you okay?” I ask, touching her face, her shoulder, the memory of her thrashing and seizing fresh on my mind. “I didn’t mean… I gave away that you mattered to me, and…”

Dandy seems somewhat taken aback by the display of contact in front of the others, but seems to realize what I’m concerned about. “It is not your fault, Lysanne.” she says calmly, reaching up to take my hand. “You don’t need to apologize for trying to protect me.”

“Everyone still alive?” Both of us turn to see Milor limping down the aisle, his shotgun hanging loose from one hand. The left ankle of his pants is torn up and bloodied with what looks like jagged tooth marks. “Damn near lost a leg when I stepped on a rune trap that Grimes laid down. Took forever to fizzle out— oh jeezus! What the hell happened to him?!”

We both glance back at what’s left of Grimes. “Jazel got to him.” I explain, not having either the will or desire to recount how the sorcerer was brutally pummeled to death.

“The kid?” Milor says incredulously, then looks down to where Jazel’s still slumped against a worktable. Jazel doesn’t say anything, just raising his eyes and glaring at Milor. “Right, noted. Remind me to never piss you off.” Ejecting the spent plasma cell from his shotgun, he tucks it in his duster, then slots a new one in. “Is that all, then? Did we get all of them?”

“All the elves are dead or gone. I killed many of them.” Kayenta says, now standing as she gingerly steps around Grimes’ corpse to join us. Sidling over to Jazel, she carefully crouches down next to him, staying just out of arm’s reach. “If I carry you, will you show us where the sorcerer put your souls?”

Jazel’s eyes flick towards her. “I’m tired.” he rasps.

“I know.” Kayenta says, reaching out to touch his damp, ghostly cheek. When he doesn’t resist, she shuffles in close to pick him up again, holding him the way she was before, with his head resting on his shoulder. “Point to where the boxes are.”

“Ms. Arrignis, will you be able to carry boxes in your present state?” Dandy asks me as Kayenta starts moving through haze with Jazel. “Your fingers are still shaking.”

I look down to stare at my hands; I hadn’t realized it, with all the adrenaline still running through me, but my fingers are trembling. Whether it’s from the fighting or getting hit by Grimes’ lightning, I’m not sure, but I do know I’m not feeling entirely steady yet. “I don’t think so. Not if they’re heavy.”

“Understood.” she says, turning and going to collect her stunner rifle, and returning to place it in my hands. “I will carry the boxes if we find them. You can provide escort. Is this acceptable?”

“Yeah, I can do that.” I say, folding my hands around the rifle, and getting it comfortable in my arms. “I can’t promise my aim will be the best, but…”

“I know you will do the best you can.” she says, both of us turning when Milor calls to us.

“I think they found the boxes.” he says, standing at the edge of one the tables, just close enough that we can see him in the blue haze. “Over here.”

We start in that direction, Milor leading the way through the haze until we’ve caught up to Kayenta and Jazel. There appears to be an alcove behind the gyroscopic needle machine we saw earlier; black cubes are tucked in it, their exteriors reinforced and rubberized, likely to protect the contents. Since Kayenta doesn’t want to set down Jazel, Milor moves forward, grabbing one of the cubes and pulling it out onto the floor. Kneeling down in front of it, he feels over it until he’s found the latches holding it shut, clicking them open. Grabbing the lid, he pulls it off, a cloud of refrigerated air swirling out as he does so; within the cube are layered trays of vials, each one containing what look like a nebulous green plasma.

“There should be more than that.” Jazel coughs. “More boxes.”

Dandy looks around the room, I can only assume scanning it. “How many more, Jazel?”

“Dunno. Just… more.”

“Look, I don’t like saying it, but… we might have to just take these and go.” Milor says, setting the lid back on the box and securing it. “We might’ve dealt with Grimes and his elves, but we’ve made a big mess here. We’re in the heart of criminal territory; the vultures are gonna be circling soon, if they aren’t already. I’m sure Grimes had enemies here; everyone that works on the wrong side of the law makes enemies sooner or later. We want to get out of here before they start fighting over who gets to loot the place.”

“The deputy is correct.” Dandy says, moving to pull the other cube out of the alcove. “Do you know where the other boxes are, Jazel?”

Jazel just shakes his head.

“Then unfortunately, we will just have to grab these and go.” Dandy says, stacking the two cubes on top of each other, then picking them up as Milor grabs his shotgun again. “Given that this is a business, it is entirely possible that if there were other boxes, Grimes may have already shipped or sold them to customers, partners, or other buyers. Recovering any product that has left this facility and entered the black market proper will be near impossible at this point.”

“Well, at least they won’t get to benefit from these two boxes.” I say as Dandy stands back up. “Do you remember how to get back out of here, Dandy?”

“I do. Milor, if you will take point, I will provide you with instructions on returning the way we came. Lysanne, you can bring up the rear, and Kayenta, Jazel, and myself will travel between the two of you.” she says, turning and starting to march back through the haze. “This way, Deputy.”

We fall into formation as Dandy leads us back to the door we came through, and out into the halls of the facility once more. We move in silence, not necessarily because we have to, but because most of us are tired or in pain. Most of the spoken word comes from Dandy providing directions to Milor as we wind our way back through the halls, to the elevator, through the first floor and to the lobby where we’d originally made our entrance.

But when we get there, it’s to find that there are vehicles parked on the roundabout, and gang muscle starting to make their way towards the shattered facade.

My hands tighten on the stunner rifle as Milor angles his stride to go around them without a word, but a guy in a business suit gets out of one of the nicer cars, giving a whistle. The muscleheads instantly move to block our path, and Milor slows up as they start to fan out to make it impossible to get past them.

“You seem to be goin’ somewhere in a hurry.” the guy in the business suit says, sauntering towards us. “What’sa matter? Don’t wanna stay and brag about how you put Grimes in his place? I’d sure like to hear ‘bout it.”

“Mmm. Yah, no, see, our ride’s waitin’ on us, and we’re paying for wait time, so we’re in a bit of a hurry.” Milor replies casually, even as he starts pumping his shotgun to fill the chamber with plasma. “You know what the rates are like here on the islands. So if you’d kindly get your meatheads outta the way, be much appreciated.”

“Oh, I’d just love to, but… I can’t. Because I just can’t.” the guy in the suit says, feigning  abashed reluctance. “A big ol’ mess like this on my block, I’ve got a responsibility to find out what’s going on, y’know? I gotta say, I haven’t seen your faces ‘round here before, and we’re all about giving newcomers a proper Primsex welcome.”

“Do you usually welcome people by holding them up while they’ve got a wait meter runnin’?” Milor replies, the muzzle of his shotgun coming up. “Ain’t exactly frontier hospitality, brother.”

“Ah, so you’re a frontier boy.” the guy in the suit says, sizing the rest of us up. “That’s a nice set of tails you got there, sweetheart.”

Kayenta’s lips peel back in a snarl, a low growl starting to rumble out of her chest. “Move out of our way, or you will be moved.”

“Like I said, can’t do that.” the guy in the suit says, motioning for the line of muscle to start closing in a circle around us. “Tell you what. You tell us what’s in those boxes that the redhead’s got, maybe share a bit of it with us, and we’ll let you be on our way.”

“No.” I snap, bringing the rifle up. “You cannot have anything in the boxes. If your men come any closer, we will start shooting.”

The guy in the suit snorts. “Two of you have guns and the other two have your hands full. We’ll take our chances.”

“Look dude, don’t do this.” Milor says, fully bringing up his shotgun as the muscle starts reaching into their jackets and coats, presumably for guns. “We’ve had a long night, we’re tired, we’re pissed off. There’s a whole lab behind us that you can go loot. You just can’t have these two boxes. I feel like we’re bein’ pretty reasonable.”

“Clearly they’re valuable enough that you don’t want to give them up.” the suit guy says. “Least you could do—”

“Let them be, Hanlon.” It’s accompanied by the sound of a car door clomping shut, and I look to see another couple of luxury cars have pulled up on the roundabout. Getting out of them are members of some other criminal organization, all of them wearing red coats. Most of them don’t look like muscleheads, so they must be packing some other kind of heat. The one at the front has a dark complexion, and is wearing a fancy red hat. “Grimes’ den is laying wide open. Take your pigs and go dig through it for whatever truffles you think you’ll find.”

“Vecora.” Hanlon says, turning on the spot. I can tell from the way he works his mouth that there’s some restrained distaste there. “Still poking your muzzle where it don’t belong, I see.”

“I’m doing you a favor, you brainlet. You’re two seconds from picking a fight with something that’ll paste you and your pigs across the asphalt like a ketchup packet on the highway.” she retorts, slowing as she comes close to him. “Call your pigs off and go dig through Grimes’ lab.”

Hanlon glares at her, then waves off his men. “Hit the lab. Grab anything that might look useful.” Turning back to Vecora, he spits at her feet. “If I find you cheated me out of a big score, we’re gonna have words later.”

“The only thing I’ve cheated you out of is getting your face stoved in. Option’s still on the table, if you’d like to chase it.” she retorts.

Hanlon scowls, but just follows his men as their circle dissolves in the direction of Grimes’ lab. Though they leave, Milor and I don’t lower our guns, instead turning them to the redcoats now. “Very considerate of you.” Milor drawls. “Are you gonna let us go our way, or are we gonna have to hash this out the hard way?”

“We had no plans to detain you.” Vecora says, turning to us. “As a matter of fact, as thanks for dealing with Grimes, that pompous snake, allow us to provide an escort for you on the way back to the docks. So you don’t run into any more trouble on your way out.”

“An escort, mm.” Milor says without lowering his shotgun. “We’ll decline. I’d rather not find our escort forcing us to take an unwanted detour.”

“Have it as you will, then.” Vecora says, extending a hand towards the street where our taxi is still waiting. “We will not stop you.”

“Glad to hear it.” Milor says, starting to move again. The rest of us follow him in terse silence, keeping an eye on the redcoats as we go. But none of them move to stop us or cut us off, simply watching as we cross the roundabout street to head back up the block. As we go, I notice the backs of their coats are designed in an unusual manner — the hem descends almost to their ankles, and have a split cut that has them almost resembling fox tails.

It’s curious and just a bit unsettling, but I’m not going to stop and ask them about it. There are more important things right now, and all of them involve getting back to The Broken Record so we can get out of here. So I keep my rifle up as we continue to retreat back down the street, and I don’t lower it until we arrive back at the taxi, where the driver’s already opening the trunk so we can put the boxes in.

“Here, let me help you with those.” she says, taking the top one out of Dandy’s arms. “Hope you guys realize I’m gonna have to add a cleaning charge for every one of you. Looks like ya got in a hell of a fight down there.”

“Charge what you want. We don’t care so long as you get us back to the docks on the double.” Milor says, yanking open the door to the passenger side and sliding in as I take off my rocket launcher and stuff it in the trunk, then step away so Dandy can set her pack in there as well.

As the driver and Dandy finish loading our stuff in the trunk, I pull open the door for Kayenta, who struggles to fold herself and her tails into the backseat with Jazel in her arms. She manages it, but it’s going to be tight; it was fairly cozy when it was just me, Dandy, and Kayenta in the backseat, mostly on account of Kayenta’s tails. With Jazel in the mix, we’re gonna be packed in here like sardines, but it’s just something we’ll have to put up with. Sliding in, I lift up Jazel’s head and shoulders so they can rest on my lap, while Dandy lifts his legs so those can rest on her lap as well. He’s barely conscious, his eyes half-lidded and roving, breathing slow and shallow. With part of him across my lap, I can feel how much weight he’s lost; whatever it was that Grimes was doing to him, it took a toll.

There’s a thump as the trunk is slammed shut, and the driver is sliding behind the wheel a moment later. “Good gods, it’s already toasty in here. Look, no offense, but we’re driving with the windows down on the way back. We need some fresh air flowing through here; y’all smell like blood, sweat, and smoke, and I don’t want that smell getting soaked into my seats.”

“Let’s get moving first. Roll the windows down after.” I say, before looking to Dandy. “We’re going to need to take him to a hospital.”

“I’m already assessing the nearest viable options.” Dandy agrees. “Once we’re back to the Drift, I’ll pull them up in the database and determine which ones are in-network with the insurance the company provides us, and will chart a course to the nearest one with the level of care we require.”

“He is alive. That is what matters.” Kayenta say as the windows roll down. Reaching over, she gently brushes his hair out of his eyes, tucking it behind his ear.

“Yes.” I agree as the taxi starts moving, hanging a u-turn in the street and heading back the way we came. Taking Jazel’s hand, I fold it over his chest as he starts to fully drift into unconsciousness.

“You’re safe now, and we’re bringing you home. That’s all that matters.”