12:34 AM

October 13th

Katherine's conversation with Diana when she got home.

Katherine: Hey, did you get home safe?

Katherine: Hellooo???

Katherine: Please tell me you got back home safe.

Diana: I'm home.

Katherine: Oh, great!

Diana: Everything fine at the club?

Katherine: The club? Yeah, everything's fine… a whole lot of people left suddenly. We're closing up.

Diana: I see.

Diana: Is there anything I should know about the club? Do you have any information that could help me?

Katherine: Some… I don't know how much I can say.

Diana: I can get you into witness protection.

Katherine: That won't stop them.

Diana: First Precinct witness protection.

Katherine: My family? I have a bedridden father… they'll kill him. Can you really get us safe?

Diana: No. Actually, I don't want to lie to you. With how I contacted you, there's little to no chance I can provide any real protection for you. To tell you the truth, it would be better if you stopped contacting me. You'd only put yourself in danger.

Katherine: Your demons?

Diana: My demons.

Diana

"Diana?" Belle nudged my shoulder, my eyes blinking rapidly as I made sense of the man standing in front of us. Hangovers sucked, but after yesterday, I had more than one ache running through my head. Right, the man. Gideon Ford. Belle's childhood friend, who now worked in an orphanage, I shook his hands and sat on my end of the table.

As the conversation continued between them, my mind heard nothing but the rattle of the club from yesterday. Memories came and went, how I nearly killed Katherine, how I did kill… Jimmy. His Frame was encrypted. Normally, I'd have sent something like this to Trixie, but I couldn't risk his death at the hands of Lilian Rose being traced back to me. My ability to shapeshift was the one thing I needed to keep a secret.

And now, Katherine knew. A random nobody, but information could spread like fire, true or false. She'd left a host of messages confirming my safety after yesterday, and I'd responded in kind. So far, there had been no report of the murder I committed yesterday, but that wasn't strange.

Sighing, I poured my focus back over the contents of Jimmy's Frame that I'd downloaded into my own. I had a crude Datacleaver from Dryder working on it, but since I wasn't a BUG Adapter, it was much less efficient. I'd tried to contact Dryder to see if he could help me out, but my request went straight to voicemail. He was probably…

...passed out. Either that or stalking Soul Killer. A similar message came when I called Ripley through his Dreadwire Contact, I received a response from a deep fabricated voice stating that 'he was away on business.'

Whatever that meant.

"Diana?" Belle nudged me again, his voice lowering. "You haven't asked him a thing?"

Shaking my head, I got my disoriented thoughts back in alignment. It would have been easier had there not been one other figure in the room with us. Tristan Lockheed, he was an older staff member at the First Investigator Rank. A thick visor was fused to his bald head, tens of dots flowing through the glass as he very much played his role of the silent, bad cop. Tristan's job was to monitor us, to make sure we didn't push too deep into whatever crimes were running through the Fourth Precinct's supervision.

I speed-read the automatic transcript that had formed during my daydreaming, looking for an untapped avenue."Right, so correct me if I'm wrong, the most recent kid of yours to have gone missing is Roy Barry. You said he worked at an auto-repair shop nearby? Was he involved in direct Shard Operating?"

"As far as I'm aware, none whatsoever. Just handled the standard stuff there as an apprentice." Gideon shook his head. "Kid was smart as a Founder, wouldn't want to touch Shardware without an Implant out of the risk of it poisonin' him."

"And his sister? We received word that she's here. Do you think we can speak with her?" I scrolled through. She was youn g— just turned eleven.

Tristan whistled behind us. "What? So you can feed her hope that her brother didn't abandon her?"

I stayed silent at that, not wanting to so easily give in to that same… aggression that had erupted out of me yesterday. "Just standard procedure, Investigator Lockheed."

I was about to respond when an incoming message came.

Message from Contact: Ripley

Sorry, I was at therapy! Yup, just decoded those files for you, some pretty heavy stuff. A guy I'm working with really blew his hat off when he saw what was on there. Good luck. P.S, got some suspicions about DW (in person talk kinda stuff).

A sigh of relief flowed through me, and a sputter of confusion followed. Ripley was getting therapy…? He deserved it, honestly. I envied his position to be able to have the time to get it. I stood up and gave the one excuse a girl could give at any time and shouldn't be refused: "I need to go to the bathroom."

Old habits die hard. As I walked, I noticed a young girl shuffling away around a corner of the orphanage's hallways. She peeked around the corner, lending me the sight of her tearful eye and the dried sob in her throat. "He didn't abandon me."

"Are you Susan?" I called out, but she had run away. I didn't chase after…

Police weren't friendly faces. I'd only make things worse.

I only made things…

Slapping my face, as soon as I was seated on a toilet's lid, my eyes opened up to the decrypted data thanks to Ripley.

Recent Messages:

Boss Raiden: Where the fuck are you?

Side-bitch #2: Hello?? I'll break up with you again if you don't respond!

Louie the weenie: Hey boss there's a girl just your type here!

Side-bitch #1: Did you seriously scratch my car just cus I blew your cousin?!

Traitor-cunt-cousin: You should have seen how she begged for more!

[Next]

I wasn't sure I wanted to read more than the previews, so I focused on my eyes and highlighted his conversation with Raiden.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

[October 2nd]

Boss Raiden: New orders from Heavens, they're paying 20k for a suitable host for this next batch.

STJ: Girls again?

Boss Raiden: Nope, they want a male subject. Adolescent, good with engineering.

STJ: You lookin' for a smart kid in these streets???

Boss Raiden: Tough shit. It's your job.

[October 7th]

Boss Raiden: New order, pre-pubescent girl for 10k. Get one of your men with a sister or daughter to show some loyalty.

STJ: Not even a thank you for last time?

Boss Raiden: You're being paid for your work, not thanked. Be grateful.

[October 8th]

Boss Raiden: By prepubescent, I didn't mean an infant.

STJ: Shit man, you never specified. Kid was a bastard of a slut anyway, what do you want me to do with it?

Boss Raiden: I don't care.

[October 9th]

Boss Raiden: Care to explain why all of the subjects were bawling their eyes out? We had to dose them extra to compensate.

STJ: I just offered them a doll to play with. They didn't like the smell.

Boss Raiden: Next time, keep your sadistic tendencies at home.

[October 11th]

STJ: Hey, haven't been paid yet for the last kid.

Boss Raiden: She was not as per the requirements.

STJ: Again? What was wrong this time?

Boss Raiden: Whatever you did to her, she slit her throat against our Op's claw.

[October 12th]

Boss Raiden: Cease your activity, we have notice of Spec-Ops coming to town. Ponsky says they don't know about our involvement with Heavens. Tell your men to arrive at Steelgrounds tomorrow after the club closes. We're shipping them down the river.

STJ: Got it.

[October 13th]

Boss Raiden: Where the fuck are you?

Reading all that, it made my stomach twist inside out. If not for the fact that all of its contents had been emptied out less than 12 hours ago, I'm sure I would have been giving the toilet under me another purpose.

From what I understood, Heavens had to be referring to Metal Heavens. That was big news, if they were outsourcing their filthy work to Steel Tygers then that more than warranted intervention from Special Intelligence. They were abducting children and… using batches of something on them? Mutagen? Drugs? Shardware?

The last one fit with the memo of Metal Heavens. None were as addicted to the perversion of human flesh with the infection of steel as they were. Some religious belief they had was that the body we were born with was a remnant of the past, and that passage into enlightenment involved cleaving it off and embracing a form that suited your true self. That was my understanding of it.

Then there was the place called the Steelgrounds. It had to be connected to the river system here if it was located by a dock from which they were sending the children away. A quick search on the Net showed several cargo bays, but they should all be government-regulated.

By the time Belle and I had left the orphanage, we had no more clues than when we entered. His friend, although meaning well, didn't have much to say. Or couldn't say much. Not with Investigator Lockheed still following behind us. Entering the car, I grimaced as my faint electrical perception pin-pricked an odd bulb of energy by the rearview mirror.

I reached for it, the glass cracking as a tiny listening device pulled through. I'd already gone through this before.

"Those are the listening devices they use here?" Belle looked like he was going to laugh, he didn't even look shocked but more appalled. "Oh, I knew they were underfunded, but that stuff is primitive!"

I crushed it to dust within my fingers, and had to hold myself back from unconsciously popping it into my mouth like a candy. Wordlessly, I didn't entertain Belle's remark as I rested my head against the window while he drove us around while Lockheed trailed behind our car.

"So… you feeling alright, today?" Belle started.

"Fine. Just that time of the month." I ended.

"Shouldn't be drinking so much alcohol, then. Only make the bleeding worse." He said half-compassionately.

Sighing, I shot him an annoyed look. "It was barely a cup."

"I'm not talking about what you drank with us." Belle casually said. "You were hungover today. You're not getting hungover on that diluted liquor. Not as a Tier II, and not with how many calories you digest every day."

"What does that mean?!" I glared at him with a bit more menace.

"Oh, shit. No, I wasn't calling you fat!" His startle travelled through the car in a sputter. "I just meant… well, I've seen those food-bars you're munching on during break. Some of those are prescribed for Tier IIIs! Look, what I'm trying to say is…"

His casual voice took on a little more sternness. "I know you went out drinking last night."

Caught in the act, I didn't hide it. Maybe it was in my breath, or maybe he'd gotten all the way to Special Operations by being a living breathalyzer. "So, I did."

"That's ballsy."

"I wore a mask."

"And your hair?"

"A wig."

"Shit, were you trying to be the worst undercover cop ever?"

"It wasn't for any cop business."

He gave a smug look that told me how he didn't believe it. "I'll choose to entertain that… just… I get it."

"You get it?"

"You entered Tier II. You've spent all your younger officer and cadet years seeing your seniors talk about how great the drink they get to have is. That stuff. Which, if you just whiffed, would send you to an ambulance. It's exciting."

He then took a deep breath. "It's also dangerous. I don't know what happened to you with Simon Jugosla, but I know this career makes you want to forget what you see. Like all things, too much of a good thing can be bad for you. I would know."

"Really?"

He raised three fingers up. "Three years sober, Diana. The Police District might have its faults, but it has a surprisingly good Alcoholics Anonymous."

"That's bullshit." I pointed out. "You drank with us yesterday."

"I ingested some seeds before leaving the office yesterday, which grows a type of moss around my stomach lining that produces a warp-enhanced alcohol dehydrogenase. Means I can drink around and not suffer the consequences… as long as it's the normal type of brew. Whatever you had would have required my stomach to become a full-fledged rainforest."

My lip twitched just slightly in curiosity, but I pulled it back into silence.

He seemed keen on explaining himself anyway. "I'd been drinking since I left this pisspot. 'You can't handle Westbrook sober', that was the motto around here. I agreed, still do. But… our job's a lot more than just handling Westbrook. Our duty extends to its people, its laws, and morals."

He quieted a bit. "We have to take care of them. Like how I want to care for the woman who raised me out of this dump. I'm Spec-Ops, big man with a big paycheck. My Aunt is just a feeble old Iron, wants to stay that way. Plenty of people think they can get to me by getting to her, so naturally, I have a lot of safety mechanisms in place. You know, the usual. Locks on the doors, sensors for if someone enters or exits through a window, a hidden camera or two, but nothing that invades her privacy."

His eyes met mine at a stop-light. "One little mod I have is on the trash collection outside. Just something that logs in if someone other than her dumps something, you never know if they'll plant a bomb in there."

I stilled, but he moved aside as he reached into the car door and pulled out the Frame belonging to Jimmy that I'd fried as soon as I uploaded its Data onto mine. "There's blood on this, Diana. Do you happen to know anything about that?"

———

Raiden

Raiden of the Steel Tygers built this empire from his blood, sweat, and steel, and he was finally at the cusp of greatness. His blue mask barely contained the vicious fangs hungering away at the payment he'd receive for this shipment. Feline eyes slimmed, taking in the appearance of brains breathing for air behind a thin membrane of circuitry and the youthful faces drooping beneath them.

He was well aware that this job wasn't under the orders of Metal Heavens, but rather that true king whispering in the shadows of the city. The man who lay hidden in every closet, knowing every lie, and finally witnessing the birth of the Tyger of-

[Incoming Call from User: Daylight]

His breath hitched, it wasn't just Skeleton anymore. Another who harnessed this city's shadows had come for him. Swiping back his mane of hair, blonde with streaks of blue lightning, he presented himself to one of Mirage's three Personas, as they crackled into the space as light and wove into being beyond his very eyes.

What an incredible figure she was. Blinding light — brilliant and pure — formed the long flowing dress of white and blue before skin, clear as ivory, manifested. He put one knee on the ground, purring in satisfaction as Daylight smiled. "My lady of the sun, how may I-"

"Oh, no. You're thinking of the wrong AI!" Daylight laughed, mirth full on her face. "Just wanted to let you know that yoooooou'rrrre in trouble, kitty kat!"

His slim feline eyes sharpened, a growl held back as he gave one of the identities of the woman who could claim Little Requiem the attention she deserved. "It seems you're mistaken, we're on the same side."

"Are we?" Daylight smiled with mischief brewing in her sapphire gaze. "Why would anyone ever want to work with you? Like, no offense, you'd do so much better working at a circus! Like, we all know the reason you wear a mask is because you're hiding your whiskers! Oooh, could I play with them?"

He unsheathed his blade at that, pointing it at the holographic form of Daylight who just laughed harder. "Oh, oh, you're fucking hilarious! Woooh, slash right through my holographic body! I promise you, I'll play along!"

"Tell me why you came," He growled.

"Just issuing a friendly warning." She wiped tears from her eyes. They sparkled into stars. "My friend's coming here, he wanted to receive a warm welcome, preferably not full of lead. He wants to talk."

His ears perked up at that. "Dreadwire? Or…"

Excitement pricked his voice. "Is it The R0N1N!"

"Oh… not quite." She swiped an image in front of him.

Raiden paled.

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