The door shut behind me with the kind of sound doors make when they want you to know escape is only a concept.
Warm light filled the interior of The Bitter Gear. Warm was generous. It was the colour of warm. The temperature was closer to industrial freezer.
People sat at the bar, some slumped, some drunk, some sleeping upright through years of practice. A few glanced at me, decided I was too confusing to evaluate, and returned to their drinks.
Cadence appeared beside me in a flicker of blue. "Please note," she said, "the probability of criminal behaviour in this room exceeds 90%."
"Great," I whispered. "A social club."
Rourke sat at a small table in the corner. He waved me over with the ease of someone who owned more favours than friends.
"Iris," he said as I approached. "Glad you followed."
"Your alleyway provided sufficient clarity," I said.
He smirked. "That's one way to describe it, it has character."
Cadence hovered behind my shoulder like an annoyed moral compass. "He led us through multiple ambush points."
I took a seat. "That explains the staring."
Rourke leaned back, letting the chair creak dramatically. "You saw the welcome outside. Tollhaven does not treat outsiders kindly. Without a chip you are invisible, powerless, and probably sleeping in the gutter."
I nodded. "Yes. I noticed that democracy here is optional."
"That's being generous," Cadence said.
Rourke tapped a scrap of wood on the table. It served as a map of Tollhaven, or possibly a cutting board that had dreams of being one. He pointed at several districts.
"These," he said, "are the places you cannot go without ID. Markets, clinics, tech stalls, water hubs. Everything worth having is locked behind a chip."
"And the people without chips?" I asked.
"They live on scraps, favours, or worse," he said. "Some make it. Most don't."
Cadence whispered, "You are not compatible with starvation."
"I appreciate that," I muttered.
Rourke studied me for a long moment. "You're fast. Too fast. Strong. And most people don't survive the Badlands alone. So I assume you're competent."
"That is a polite way of saying suspicious," Cadence added.
I rested my elbow on the table. "You brought me here for a reason. You want your daughter back."
"Correct."
"Why me?"
He didn't hesitate. "Because you have no ties. The factions can threaten and bribe anyone here, but not you. You walk in, you walk out, and they will not know who sent you."
Cadence tilted her head. "That is partially ethical and mostly opportunistic."
Rourke smiled thinly. "I call it efficient."
Cadence chimes. "I love efficiency."
I crossed my arms. "Fine. Tell me the rest."
He exhaled through his nose, the way people do when they have to say something that tastes bad.
"My daughter's name is Selene. She is seventeen. She… wandered too close to the wrong part of town. A group took her."
"What group?" I asked.
He hesitated just a touch too long.
"Rourke," I said slowly, "who took her."
His jaw tightened. "The Black Thorns."
Cadence froze. "Iris, accessing her recently updated database. The Black Thorns are a mid tier faction specialising in smuggling, forced labour, intimidation, extortion, and from images very bad tattoos."
"Yes," Rourke said with a sigh. "Those."
I raised an eyebrow. "And you want me to stroll in and pick her up like a lost parcel."
"I want you to retrieve her quietly," he said. "They are expecting me to hand over something valuable in exchange. I do not have that something ... well not anymore. If I go without it, they will kill me. And they will keep her. I will lose everything."
"So I go in," I said, "take your daughter, and leave."
"That is the plan."
Cadence narrowed her eyes at him. Her hologram still made the expression look more thoughtful than threatening. "He has not mentioned the part where they will kill you if they suspect betrayal."
Rourke shrugged. "I assume she figured that out already."
I leaned back in my chair, letting the thought settle. "And you will give me a chip."
"A clean one," he said. "With credits already loaded."
Cadence perked up. "This offer is statistically exceptional. The scam probability has dropped from 90% to 40%."
"40," I repeated.
"Yes," she said. "He is still suspicious."
Rourke rested his elbows on the table and lowered his voice. "Look. I am not asking you to kill anyone. I am not asking you to assault their base. Just get her out. I know where she is. I can show you."
"Why haven't you gone yourself?" I asked.
His expression went brittle. "Because if they see me anywhere near her, they will know what I am trying. Then the negotiation becomes irreversible."
"That was cryptic," Cadence said.
"That is self preservation," Rourke corrected.
I drummed my fingers on the table. "Fine. You said quiet extraction. That I can handle."
Rourke let out a breath that might have been relief or just exhaustion. "Good. Then follow me. My private room is upstairs. We can talk details there."
Cadence muttered, "This is escalating into a confined space scenario. I recommend staying alert."
He stood and gestured toward the stairs at the back of the bar.
I rose to follow.
"Cadence," I whispered.
"Yes."
"If he tries anything stupid…"
"I will remind him of his poor life choices."
"Good."
The Bitter Gear creaked around us as we climbed the stairs. The bar noise below blurred into a humming mess of voices, metal, and the occasional scream that might have been joyful or medical.
The second floor hallway was narrow, the walls covered in peeling posters advertising long dead musicians and auctions for scrap metal that probably never existed.
Rourke unlocked a door with a passcode.
"After you," he said.
Cadence whispered, "He is either being polite or setting you up."
"Probably the latter," I murmured.
He pushed the door open.
Inside was a cramped office with one table, two chairs, a dim lantern, and a map of Tollhaven pinned to the wall. Three red marks circled a district at the southern edge.
Rourke closed the door behind us.
"Well," he said quietly. "Now we can discuss the difficult parts."
I crossed my arms. "Which are."
His smile faded.
"The Black Thorns are not the only faction involved."
Cadence blinked. "Iris. This is where the trouble begins."
"I noticed."
Rourke nodded slowly. "If you still want that chip… you need to hear everything."
I took the chair opposite him and sat, bracing myself.
"All right," I said. "Start talking."
And he did.
The door clicked shut behind us.