There was no time before the others. As far as Rainy was concerned, they'd always been there. Running the warped sidewalks of 165th Street, whistling warnings while the Mobies and Dudleys shook down stores or boosted cargo. When the gangs had nothing for them, they stole for themselves. Snacks. Electronics. Whatever they could slip inside a jacket before getting caught.

School had never stood a chance. They skipped more classes than they sat through. Why wouldn't they? The lecture bots froze in the middle of lessons. The sewer stink was enough to make kids throw up. Anyone who still had an appetite got rewarded with a free lunch from the corp bankrolling the place—and rumors of experimental supplements.

Luc, naturally, insisted he could feel them working.

"It’s itching."

"Where?"

He'd catch Rainy’s hand and press her fingertips to the side of his pinky.

"Here. Couple more Quantegena lunches and this little bastard's growing a twin."

"It’s a callus, idiot."

Of course, Luc wasn't stupid, whatever his report card claimed. None of them had been raised by scholars. Pirates. Gangers… What school never taught, their parents did. Once those parents were gone, the streets took over.

By the time they stopped pretending they'd graduate, they'd already moved into an abandoned apartment together. The walls were striped with salt marks. Roaches fled the drains whenever the sea backed them up. Still beat sleeping outside, where one good gust could send your bedroll drifting.

Squid could coax another month out of anything with wires. Vesper could stare down half the neighborhood until someone remembered an extra loaf or can of scop. Splitting it four ways had felt almost like happiness.

It couldn't last. There were only so many scraps to go around.

That's when Twitch found them. Gave them an introduction to the local gangs. First as lookouts. Then as runners. It wasn't long before the gangs trusted them with real jobs. To outsiders, Twitch was just another old woman running a ramshackle kiosk perched above the floodline. Around 165th Street, people knew better. She looked after the kids nobody else wanted. She found them work.

"Little hands can reach in tight spaces," she'd say. "And little faces blend in."

Every job bought another week.

Every week convinced them there'd be another.

Quarantine. Damn quarantine.

Rainy sank into the battered couch, watching the same bulletin crawl across her Agent for what had to be the hundredth time. All routes into the southern Flood Zone remain closed. NEPD checkpoints are in effect until further notice. Checkpoints? NEPD didn't throw those up over another desal bug.

So much for seeing Rat King at the Flying Circus.

She sighed and popped another can of nutrient loaf. Gourmet. She held her breath through the first bite until she swallowed. Right on cue, Squid's deathtrap of a dehumidifier sneezed a spray across the floor.

At least nobody she knew had started coughing. Yet.

Her Agent chirped.

"Hey, guys, Twitch's calling," she said, sitting up as she hit speaker.

"Got a job with your names on it. Stat."

Luc's boots thudded across the floor. He dropped into a crouch beside the couch. Across the room, Vesper caught Squid by the wrist before he could lower the dented crown of a can onto his lopsided construction.

"Uh..." Rainy sucked the last of the sticky sludge off her teeth. "Thought everything was shut down?"

"It is." Static swallowed Twitch's tired exhale. "My crew's trapped on the wrong side. So now I'm calling you."

Luc leaned an elbow on Rainy's knee. "Setting the bar pretty low, Twitch. What's the job?"

"Apartment on 89th. Grab two shards. Bring 'em back. Pays a thousand strats each."

"A thousand?" Luc's brows shot up. So did his spill-black eyes.

"Plague. Short notice. Hazard pay."

Luc parked two thumbs-up in Rainy's lap. Vesper shrugged at her from behind his gelled spikes. Three times what Twitch usually paid...

"What aren't you telling us?"

The scratch of a lighter. "Enough to make me wish I didn't need you for this."

The rusted Daktari 1100 crunched through another collapsing alley, riding high over broken glass and remnant shells. The intake snorkel rose beside Rainy's window, ugly as the rest of the Daktari. Worth every strat if the Flood came high enough to swallow the hood.

Luc hit the horn. "Quarantine, people! Ever heard of it?"

A line of smokers lounged along the curb ahead. Others crouched around a gutted appliance, spread across the lane.

"Can you not?" Rainy murmured, sliding lower in the back seat behind him.

"If it's really a plague," Vesper said from the passenger side, "shouldn't there be... dunno. More dead people?"

"Maybe someone’s cleaning up?"

Luc snorted. "Hazard pay for corpse collection? I'm in."

Rainy wrestled the stiff window down a few inches and let her hand drift into the wind. A few stray raindrops struck her skin. Wherever Neo Estrata had drifted over the last couple of months, the rain had started coming more often. Like their end of the island didn't have enough water problems already. She drew her hand back inside, rubbing at the sting.

The target apartment block looked like every other one in the district—concrete flaking over rusty ribs. The first-floor windows had been sealed with corrugated steel, while a tangle of power cables snaked across the walls where the old wiring had failed.

Luc pulled the Daktari up to the curb and killed the engine. Rainy drew her oilskin cape closed before stepping into the drizzle.

A handful of squatters had turned the entrance into a camp. Patched tarps hung between the columns where wooden pallets kept their bedrolls above the last flood line.

Had they once been street kids too? When did you stop being a kid and just... become another junkie sleeping in a doorway? Did you wake up one day and realize that was it? No way out. Nothing left except the next hit…

A still-smoking can rattled toward the overflowing gutter. One squatter lunged after the spilled cigarette butts.

Never. She'd never end up like that. Better to risk everything chasing another gig than hand your life over to a needle. The smell alone would keep her from ever slipping that far.

"Hang on, lemme talk to ‘em." Luc strolled over to the old man trying to relight a salvaged cigarette butt by the barrel fire. "Evening, cuz." He hooked a thumb beneath the battered collar of his dock jacket and flashed his best Luc smile. "Cozy little setup you got here. Fire's probably worth more than the apartment these days, huh?"

The man spat into a puddle. Oily rainbows trembled across the surface.

"Just need answers to a couple questions. What's it gonna take to cough up something useful?"

"Got strats?"

Luc glanced back at the three of them standing by the Daktari.

What could these junkies possibly tell them? They could barely keep their eyes focused. Did they even know whether it was morning or afternoon?

"It's okay," Vesper said, stepping forward. "I'll send you ten. Deal?"

The squatter grinned, more gaps than teeth. "So?"

"Anyone upstairs?"

"Scavs went in ‘bout five minutes ago."

So maybe they weren't all completely fried. Rainy turned back to Squid. Greasy bangs fell over his wandering natural eye; the cheap knockoff Okiris stared straight ahead. He was scanning the building.

"What is it, Squid?"

"Power relay... maintenance node..."

Luc and Vesper were still working the squatters for answers. She waved them over.

Squid moved past Rainy toward the wall. Rust. Grit. Layers of peeling graffiti crossed by white flood markers. Another busted maintenance panel.

A cable slipped from the sleeve of his cracked vinyl slicker. He plugged himself in.

The windows overhead had been patched with clear plastic sheeting. Anyone watching from above could've spotted them if they'd bothered looking. Then again... nobody stayed sane staring out all day.

"Got it," Squid murmured. "Floor plan. Third floor. We're here."

"Anything else?" Vesper asked.

"Camera feed… One still works." His eye tracked invisible lines. "Apartment’s occupied."

"Scavs," Luc muttered. "Think they’re after the same thing?"

Vesper's gloved hand slipped beneath her utility vest. "They're definitely packing better hardware than we are."

"Maybe we catch them by surprise?"

"Or..." Squid jacked out. "We don't surprise them at all." He took a few steps backward. A weathered terrace jutted out from the building a few meters up.

Luc rolled his shoulders. "So, who's getting thrown up first?"

Rainy's fingers dug into the concrete—still just shy of the ledge. Luc shoved against the sole of her rubber boot. Shortest on the team... Good thing she didn't weigh much.

By the time she crawled up, Squid had already hauled himself onto the fire escape. Vesper was reaching back down for Luc. Rusted drainpipes gave Rainy the first handhold. She climbed past tangles of wiring and a dead AC unit, then flattened herself beneath the cracked window.

Voices rose and fell inside. Scraping. Banging. Vesper waited, Floozie braced against her shoulder. Another thud—she slammed the butt of her SMG into the glass.

One second. Two. The noise went on. Rainy ducked through the cleared frame. She crept to the door and, inch by inch, eased the lock into place. The warped wood wouldn't stop anyone determined to get through, but it only had to slow them down.

She turned back. A pale glow from the bathtub caught the room—and the naked man lying inside it. Blue letters flickered above his cyberdeck, bleeding across the water.

She clapped a hand over her mouth.

Squid was already by the body, splitting the interface cables. He held up two white data shards—

The handle rattled. "What the fuck?"

Rainy flattened herself beside the doorframe. She eased the pistol around the edge and squeezed the trigger.

Click.

She racked the slide. Nothing.

Vesper’s Floozie roared from the window. A howl of pain—then the sink burst into shards.

Not theirs. Rainy sank into a crouch. The wall was thicker than the door. It had to be—

Something skidded across the floor and bumped her toe. Squid's pistol. She snatched it up and fired back.

A shadow recoiled from the riddled door.

"Go!" Vesper jammed in a fresh magazine.

Drizzle stung Rainy's face. She caught the railing just as the fire escape jolted beneath another pair of boots. Glass sprayed across her shoulders as shots cracked overhead.

The Scavs were definitely on the same hunt. But that netjack... He hadn't looked like some Flood Zone punk. His deck alone screamed custom Zamoltek. Still didn't save him.

And now whatever had gotten him killed was sitting in Squid's pocket.

Rainy dropped into a puddle, already sprinting for the Daktari.

A burst of gunfire hammered the car. Metal shrieked beside her head. Something punched through the rear panel, close enough that she felt the impact through the seat.

Luc floored it. The Daktari lurched forward, tires skidding on wet pavement. Rainy grabbed the back of his seat as the car tore out of the alley.

The building disappeared behind them. She still couldn't catch her breath.

"So that went well, right?" Luc glanced at her in the rearview mirror.

"Nobody's hurt?" Vesper asked.

"Scraped myself on the way down." Rainy barely looked at her palms.

Vesper handed back a bottle of disinfectant. "Let's call Twitch."

Luc tapped the contact on the dashboard. The first ring cut off mid-tone.

"Aurora & Claret Recovery. Good evening."

A&C? The finance corporation—

"Where's Twitch?" Luc asked.

"Your fixer is no longer handling this contract."

Cold gel oozed between Rainy’s fingers. A&C dealt in nine-figure clients, not gutter mercs. And now they had them on the line.

"You are in possession of our stolen property. We expect the immediate return of the data shards from Apartment 3B. The designated delivery location is being transmitted now."

The dashboard chimed. A pin dropped onto the navigation map.

"Our deal was with Twitch," Luc ground out.

"I would advise against delaying compliance. Lucas Delbridge. Diane Crosbee. Victoria Lascone. Peter Gilby. You are currently traveling westbound in a dark blue Daktari. You will deliver the data shards to Warehouse Seventeen. If the shards have been accessed, duplicated, altered, or damaged in any way, further discussions will be considerably less cordial."

Only the tires hissed over wet pavement.

"We appreciate your cooperation."

The line went dead.

Rainy’s palms throbbed, burning now. Not the empty bravado of gangs. This was… it.

"Forget the money," Luc muttered. "This is a fucking nightmare."

"Yeah." Vesper leaned back against the seat. "Something tells me it won't end at the warehouse."

"Even if we never accessed them..." Rainy murmured.

"Doesn't matter. We had them."

The Daktari jolted over a pothole. "How are they even tracking us?"

"These."

Squid tipped his head back. His throat bobbed once.

"No!" Rainy caught his face in her hands. "No, no, no. Spit them out."

"Squid, what the—?" Luc snapped. The car swung through another turn.

Squid hacked into his fist, pounding his chest between breaths.

"You have to get them back up!" Rainy's fingers closed around his slicker. "Okay... okay... Remember that discount rat skewer?"

He blinked at her through watering eyes. "Yes?"

Rainy whipped toward Luc. "Can you pull over? We have to... somehow..." How? "Get them out."

"What, shove our fingers down his throat?"

Vesper was already rifling through the glove compartment. "Pretty sure we didn't pack laxatives."

Five minutes to the warehouse. Maybe less. They'd know if the Daktari stopped or changed course.

"But we can’t show up like this—"

"Then what? Keep driving forever?"

"Sorry…" Squid rubbed at his throat. "I don't think it's coming back."

Rainy squeezed her eyes shut. Think. Her boot caught the pistol on the floor.

Fight? With these pieces of junk?

Run on a quarter tank?

Beg? They'd slice Squid open before she finished asking.

"Guys," Luc said. "We need to decide. Now."

"Too late," Vesper muttered.

Rainy craned over the back seat. A black limo filled the rear window. A&C—or some third party? It was closing fast. She reached for Squid’s pistol and shoved her arm out the window. Armored body. Armored glass, probably—

Dead center.

The bullet skipped off the tire like it had hit steel. The limo didn't even wobble.

"Luc!" Rainy's arm snapped back inside. "Faster!"

The engine howled. She shoved her hair out of her eyes as mirror-black metal drew level.

Her jaw snapped shut as she hit Squid. Her shoulder struck the door hard enough to drive the air from her lungs. Weightless. Crushed back into the seat…

"Out! Now!" Luc shouted and Rainy pried herself off Squid.

The cabin reeked of burning coolant.

Squid threw his weight against the buckled rear door. Again. He grabbed her arm and wrenched her through the gap.

"The shards." A woman's voice drifted through the curling smoke. "Hand them over."

Rainy dragged herself upright. Dark silhouettes. Pointed barrels.

The woman strode forward like a holo-ad come to life. Engineered to command attention. The Kugira crest gleamed on her rain-speckled lapel. Fire danced across her mirrored shades. "You have ten seconds to comply."

Luc's hand dropped from his useless pistol. His mouth had always been his best weapon. Now even that had gone quiet.

"Ten."

And anyway, negotiate with Kugira? About what? They were little more than the thin plastic keeping the shards from Squid's stomach acid. Temporary. Just another layer to cut through.

"Nine."

Nothing moved except those red lips counting them down.

"Eight."

Someone had already decided how this ended.

"Seven."

Choice was a luxury four street kids couldn’t afford.

"Six." The woman tilted her head, just a fraction. Pearl-black teeth flashed behind a perfect smile.

How ugly beauty could be. How cruel.

Something pressed into Rainy’s palm. Squid's fingers closed over hers, forcing her hand shut. A... shard? But hadn't he swallowed both?

His Okiris flickered a cloudless blue. Then he bolted.

"The shards! I got the—"

Concrete exploded at his feet. He staggered. Kept going.

"A&C inbound," an operator said to the woman.

Her gaze tracked Squid toward the approaching headlights. "Take him. The rest, intercept."

The operator kicked into a spring-loaded run. The others fanned out across the street as the A&C vehicles split up too. The woman half-turned toward the open door.

Don't look at me.

Please do.

"That’s all. You can run along now," she said.

Gunfire erupted somewhere beyond the intersection.

"Rainy!" Luc shouted.

She didn't stop. No telling how long two megacorps could keep each other busy. They wouldn't think twice about dragging the whole Flood Zone into this. They already had.

Her side throbbed. She wasn't fast, not with her short legs. But Squid had bought her those few precious seconds.

He'd made it through the first burst. He could make it through the second. In an infinite universe of possibilities, another streak of impossible luck wasn't impossible.

It didn't even have to be infinite.

"Rainy, stop!" Vesper caught up and grabbed her arm. Rainy finally doubled over, clutching her ribs.

"He drew them off, damn it." Luc exhaled, kicking a crushed can aside. "He… saved us."

Rainy opened her fist. The shard was still there. So small. Worth killing for.

"They'll be here soon enough," she managed between gulps of air. "Squid might have thrown Kugira off, but A&C can still track us."

"Then fucking throw it in the gutter, Rain."

"No." She straightened. Across the street, a public Net terminal glowed in the dark, its exposed guts bundled together with zip ties and electrical tape. Somehow, it still breathed.

"You sure?" Luc's voice followed her.

"I don't think I care anymore."

She dried the slot with her sleeve. "Squid," she whispered, and slid the shard in. Do something—anything. Make someone choke on tonight.

The terminal froze. Rainy snatched her hand off the keypad.

Static ripped across the display. Ant swarms. Spreading.

"That's... not supposed to do that, is it?"

"I don't—"

She took a step back, but she hadn't blinked. Streetlights. Neons. Apartment windows... Every light around went dark.

Shouts rose somewhere down the block and the screen flickered.

A tiny spark spat from the melted shard.

"Hey, Vicky."

Athena’s peroxide-blonde waves swayed into the seat opposite her. Even they couldn’t distract from feathers clinging to her rumpled lab coat. "Sorry I kept you waiting. We literally just had another specimen escape.” Her smile cracked, then snapped right back into place. "I'm laughing so I don't cry. Like that's somehow gonna stop the next one from bolting."

“What, again?” Rainy reached across the table and ran a finger over Athena’s knuckles. "Did it make it?"

"Stress-induced cardiac arrest." Athena curled her fingers around Rainy’s with a sigh. The cafeteria churned beyond the moss screening around their corner. "How's Daisy?"

"Lonely, I think..."

"Yeah..." Athena pulled away to unzip her corporate-issued lunch bag. "Not much I can do. Ever since that Mara bitch got her claws into my department. Anyway." She fussed with the beefteki, spinach, and protein cookie until the tabletop approved with a roasty glow. "There. Enhance... color fix… Mm. I'd click that."

"Tag me?"

A misting drone worked its way along the hanging vines. Rainy's Agent buzzed in her pocket. She should've signed up for the brand ambassador elective too. One more extra assignment wasn't going to kill her. Then again, if everyone did the extra credit, was it even extra anymore? There had to be a smarter way to stand out.

“Ooh! It’s reading my mind again.” The rhinestone skull-charm jingled from Athena’s Agent as she turned it toward Rainy.

A smiling couple vanished under Love Smarter before the concert ad loaded. Shattered storefronts. Molotovs. Who else but ? Luc's band…

"Your algorithm's slipping," Rainy murmured.

"Sure, the message is questionable..." Athena’s finger tapped the bassist on-screen. "But, like, look at him." She swiped. "And the singer? Not bad. Not bad at all." She looked back at Rainy with a grin. "Which one's your type?"

Rainy took her first bite. "I prefer men in suits."

Athena burst out laughing. "You mean that noodle-boy Aiden?"

"I told you. We're over."

"Like... actually over?" Athena looked past Rainy's shoulder. A crooked smile tugged at her shell-pink lips. She lifted a hand and waved. Rainy didn't even have to turn around. "That boy has no idea what he lost," she murmured. The smile froze. "Aaand yep. He's coming over."

"No..." Rainy groaned, slumping over her lunch. She'd done the right thing breaking up with him. There was nothing left to say.

Athena pushed back from their table. "Hey! I'm having a really shitty day, and Victoria’s busy keeping me sane. So unless this is work-related… run along." She eased back and reached for her drink. “Say the word and I’ll sic HR on his ass.”

“He didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just… things were fun when I made them happen. If I didn’t take the initiative, he never did.” Rainy speared another forkful of the cafeteria’s protein pasta. Nutrient gap detected. Add Omega-3 side? // S̸*4.50.

“I’m working late too. Between my shifts and special assignments, I’m barely home myself. Sending one damn message every now and then isn’t exactly a high bar.”

"Please.” Athena snorted. “He's just another desk runner. If anyone should've put in the effort, it was him."

"I just like knowing my boyfriend didn't fry his brain into mush."

"Ew, Vic. We're eating." She gave her matcha a little shake. “Netjacks have a funny relationship with time, or so I’ve heard. Not that I'm defending him. You need to aim higher, babe. I heard Julian's up for promotion next cycle..."

Rainy managed another bite. The new Orgamo meals were surprisingly good with their 18% more bioavailable protein. At least she'd get to finish the rest of her lunch in peace now that Athena had moved on to gossip.

As for her own idea, he wouldn’t give a low-level employee like her a second glance. Someone rich—Rubycon-rich. The sort of rich that floated above everyone else's problems. Surely even radiation rolled off from people like that.

"Hm." Athena studied her. "You’re in a mood today. Fine. No Quantegena suits." She tapped a glittering nail against her chin. "Maybe some NEPD brass. Nice office. Fancy badge—"

"I'll leave the uniforms to you." Rainy glanced up at the enormous logo animated from woven neon vines above the cafeteria. Grow Better. Live Longer.

One goal at a time...

Rainy snapped another CalmMint bubble between her teeth. The sirens still sang where the sewage waters met the ocean, just around the corner. Eternity was supposed to start there, too. The artificial sweetness prickled with salt and rust as the harbor breeze rolled in. Loading arms swung over the docks while Quantegena’s krill stations combed the dark water.

Sold out. Hours ago. To think she'd found herself queuing up for a punk concert again…

A handful of latecomers still argued with the Wet Mermaid’s bouncer while disappointed fans loitered nearby, smoking, drinking, or insisting someone inside owed them a favor.

Studded leather. Torn fishnets stitched with safety pins. Enough spikes and chrome to make a Tourbillon ganger look underdressed…

Her mismatched thigh-highs had been a good call. So had the synthleather cap she’d grabbed from a street vendor on the way over. She looked just scuffed enough to blend in.

Rainy stopped in front of the bouncer. A steel wall with a pulse.

"Ticket." His metal hand came up. Once upon a time, it must've cowered beneath a layer of synthskin.

"How much to pretend I had one?"

"Save yourself the disappointment."

She popped another bubble. "Try me."

“Two hundred.” His eyes remained fixed somewhere above her head.

"For general admission?"

"Supply and demand, baby."

“Fine.” She'd survived enough customer de-escalation seminars to know when to stop arguing and start paying.

Two hundred strats later, he stepped aside just enough for her to slip through. "Management asks? I’ve no idea who you are."

"You really don't," she replied.

To say the venue was packed would’ve been an understatement. Rainy went up on her toes. Beer bottles. Raised fists. Even with the platform boots, she didn't stand a chance.

"Sorry—excuse me." She tapped the guy in front of her. "Hey..."

He turned. CoRpOsCuM stretched across his forehead in smeared black ink.

"Mind if I squeeze past?"

"Huh?" He leaned down, cupping a hand to his ear.

"Squeeze past?"

"Me? Sure. Can't promise you'll survive the rest of the crowd."

"Love the dedication." Rainy eyed his sweaty forehead, rolling up her sleeve. “Why stop there? If I get Luc to sign me, I know a guy who can make it permanent.”

“You’re nuts.” A girl beside her snickered.

Another voice chimed in. “I’d do it too, but Chase would kill me. Make a hole!”

"What?"

"She's getting his autograph tattooed!"

The next song drowned out the rest. Someone grabbed her wrist and pulled her through a gap. "Dude, you gotta get to the front."

"Show us when it's healed!"

Another shove—less gentle—and she was jammed against the stage, breathing hard.

Wild black hair whipped through the blinding lights. The leather jacket, the ballistic vest beneath, the flash of neon off the oversized buckle—where was she supposed to look? One painted combat boot stayed planted on the amp as he drove the rhythm forward.

She'd spent two years avoiding anything the band put out. She was... completely unprepared.

The bassist and guitarist slammed shoulder to shoulder as the crowd roared. Luc grabbed a bottle of desal water, drained a long swallow, and wiped his mouth with the back of his tattooed hand. With a nod to the drummer, he was back at the mic.

The massive synth-keytar hanging from his chest looked heavy enough to cave in a skull. Then he hit the keys and snarled… about someone being too afraid to fly because the moon might fall on them? Refusing to ride the clouds like a madman because reason has taken over? Hammering a golden nail into the sky just to hang a bag from it?

She looked from one ecstatic face to the next. They shouted every lyric like it made perfect sense. Was she the only one not getting it?

The music broke into a shrill of feedback.

"You 'ave been a preem crowd tonight!" Luc beamed. "But me and ze boys, we are running out of steam."

Mother of fake accents…

The crowd booed.

"Aww, don't do that. We've got one more for you." He adjusted the strap of the keytar. "Zis one’s called If I knew."

Cheers erupted as a lone guitar drifted over the crowd. Beautiful, almost. A ballad?

“If my tears could turn to pearls, I’d cry them out for you. I’d bleed until there’s nothing left, just to buy you something new,” he sang under his breath. “If the blood inside my veins could run like liquid gold, I’d rip my arteries wide open, and give you all I ho—”

He missed. For barely a beat—a note—an uncertain tide washed over his eyes. Then he pulled himself free.

“I’d bleed for you, I’d break for you, I’d burn this whole damn world in two. If that’s the price you’re asking for, then tell me—what’s a little more?”

The crowd never noticed. Maybe they just didn't care.

Girls at the barrier screamed his name. Flashed him. Another climbed onto somebody’s shoulders. A couple of guys weren't exactly shy either. And yet, his eyes kept finding hers.

Had she really spooked him that badly?

Nobody wanted to go home. Most drifted toward the bar. The rest hovered by the merch table, hoping for one more glimpse of the band.

Rainy twisted the wrapper around her gum and sent it into a discarded cup by the stage. A wall of small-time bands she'd never heard of. Had Rat Court ever played here? She used to know...

"The night's not over!" someone called from the bar.

Another fan slung an arm around her shoulders before stumbling on. "You'll get 'em next time.”

Rainy sidestepped with a smile. She wasn't waiting for another show.

A ponytailed man with a windworn face stopped in front of her. Silver scales gleamed across his right arm.

"Short. Rainbow hair… Yep. It’s you." He jerked a thumb toward a door marked Staff Only. "Luc wants you. C'mon."

Rainy fell into step beside him. "And you are? His manager?"

"Sylvester. I own the place." He glanced back over his shoulder. "Luc asked a favor. Y'know... he doesn't bring just anyone backstage."

Laughter spilled across the hallway. The guitarist slipped past with two girls hanging off his shoulders. The bassist wasn't doing much better. Even the drummer had acquired company.

"That's rockers for you...” He stopped outside a porthole-windowed door and rapped twice before pushing it open.

The office smelled of synthwhiskey-marinated fish. A wooden desk, two security monitors covering the bar and entrance, and a third she didn’t recognize. Empty bottles on the floor. Enough loose cables to earn three safety violations. And a locked case on the cabinet in the back...

"Your VIP's here.”

Luc spun around so fast the chair squealed.

"Don't blow it," Sylvester added. The latch clicked behind him.

"I'm... glad you came." Luc’s speaking voice was rough. Like he'd swallowed a frog. He cleared his throat. "I thought you'd sailed off for good."

So had the accent.

"I was here the whole time."

"And you never thought ‘bout calling? Why?"

"I don't know… Why does anything happen?"

Luc let out a slow breath. He gestured toward the chair opposite his desk. "Want something to drink? We got alcohol..." He opened the mini fridge. "And more alcohol."

"We? Own stock in the place or something?"

Luc frowned over his shoulder. "Huh?"

"Joking." She took the seat.

"Right." He closed the fridge. "So... what've you been up to?"

"Working. Being the scum of the earth, if your band’s anything to go by."

He searched her face, as if waiting for the punchline. "You? A suit?"

Rainy crossed her arms. She'd expected that look. So why was she shrinking under it?

“Corpos killed Squid. You forget that already?”

"Specifically, Kugira."

"Corps—all corps—designed this place to consume itself. They'll own your job, your rent..." He looked her straight in the eye. "Hell, they'll put your soul on the market. Guess the strats make it worth it."

She held his gaze. "I assume you still like driving. And eating."

"What's that got to do with—"

"Quantegena supplies your fuel. It grows most of Neo Estrata’s food too."

“That's the business model.” Luc scrubbed the towel through his hair, then over his face. "There ain’t no good-guy corps."

Quantegena had been a long shot. She'd applied everywhere—anywhere that offered a way out. Of course she'd taken the offer before they could change their minds. They fed people. Developed medicines…

Didn't that count for something?

Rainy glanced toward the door. "Is the rockstar tired? Should I leave?"

"Vesper must’ve known…” Luc exhaled into the towel, then peeled it away. “She always had a better read on you than I did. Figured you'd reach out when you were ready."

Rainy settled back against the chair. “Vesper? How's she doing?"

He lifted a shoulder. "Blitzvest. She's gone into real estate."

A laugh burst out of her. "Did you give her the same speech?"

“Vesper works for herself. She ain't climbing anybody's ladder.”

"She's still breaking kids like us for a paycheck."

"I know Vesper. If someone's gotta do that job, I'd rather it be her than some suit thug.”

"But you don't know me?"

"I'd love to think I still do.” He shot her a look. “If you'd gone Kugira, we’d be having a very different conversation."

Rainy interlocked her fingers. She'd snagged two nails reloading her rifle during the last pickup. If it needs doing off the books... send Victoria. "For what it's worth… I don't think I’ll ever move up. I try. Every day. But it's been two years, and I still have to take runs to make up the difference." She bit her cheek. "Guess that's all they’ll ever see me as. Doesn’t matter how good I get behind a desk."

"Street cred, a good trigger finger... you're an asset, Rain. One they know ain’t gonna say no. And I'm guessing your bosses know exactly where you're most useful."

Damn his point. She'd been resisting the very thing that could get her ahead.

“Hey. I'm just sayin’… We never stopped either." He propped his feet up on the desk. "Me and Vesper have been running with this guy for a while. Bald. Ex-military. Scary as hell the first time you meet him, but he's solid." He chuckled. "Works the door at Euphoria. Goes by Spade."

"Doesn't ring a bell."

"Maybe you've heard of his sister, Kyrsten Jakob?" A faint smile tugged at his lips. “The Solid Oxygen scandal reporter. Mouthy and combative… But damn hilarious. Shame she didn’t do comedy instead.”

So that was it. No wonder he'd barely spared those girls a glance. "Does she feed you dirt for the songs, and vice-versa?"

"Used to." He dropped his boots to the floor. "She disappeared a while back."

"Oh… Never found out what happened to her?"

"We tried. For a while…" He shook his head. "Spade’s still holding out hope. You know how it is."

Too well. After Squid—after her breakdown... Back when she'd rather lose her friends than admit they might’ve been onto something. No body, no proof, right? She knew better now.

"Yeah..." Rainy picked at her chipped nail. "But if this Kyrsten didn't have two megacorps gunning for her, maybe there's still a chance. Maybe… I don't know. We can help each other out sometime."

"Sure." He grinned. "If you ever wanna meet the others, come by my place. It's... tiny. You'll fit just fine."

Rainy pulled out her Agent, the latest Zamoltek-Quategena joint release.

"Fancy..."

"I know. Ping me the address."

Luc's thumb stalled over his screen. Rockerboy trading contact details with a corpo wasn't exactly a great look.

A second later, her agent chimed. Luc Delacroix. Neptune District. So he’d changed his name—and upgraded his neighborhood. “Well… beats the Flood Zone.”

"You sure you don't want a drink?"

Rainy shook her head. "I've got work in the morning. Go spend some time with your fans. You’ll make them very happy..." She managed a smile before heading for the door. "See you around, Luc."

"Yeah... I'll see you around."