I stepped out of The Bitter Gear and into the narrow street. Lanterns flickered overhead, hanging from cables that looked one electrical surge away from exploding. People still moved through the alleys, but with the twitchy, cautious pace of those who knew night was not their friend.
Cadence flickered to my right, hands behind her back like she was evaluating a crime scene.
"Ambient hostility has increased 23%," she said.
"Because it's dark," I muttered.
"Darkness does not produce hostility. Hostile people produce hostility."
"That's poetic. And unhelpful."
We made our way through the winding alleys. Rourke's directions looped in my head like a threat I couldn't shake.
South edge. Storage block. Cold facility. Two outside. Four inside. Cheap weapons. No heroics.
He forgot to mention every street here looked like it auditioned for villainy.
A man leaned against a rusted pipe and watched us pass. A group of teenagers kicked a metal can hard enough to dent it. Someone laughed in the distance, the kind of laugh that usually precedes running.
Cadence's voice chimed softly.
"Please refrain from engaging in any unnecessary confrontations."
"I never engage unnecessarily."
"Incorrect. I can list examples."
"Please don't."
"I will save it for later then."
We turned a corner. The street narrowed until the buildings nearly touched. A stack of crates half-blocked the path and a pair of cats growled at each other on a roof.
"This place feels… wrong," I murmured.
"Tollhaven," Cadence said. "Where wrong is a minimal requirement."
A few minutes later, the bustle faded behind us. The street widened again, emptier, quieter, soaked in the kind of silence that carried intent.
"We're close," I said.
"Correct," Cadence replied. "The facility is two blocks ahead. The map on my HUD detected movement. Three signatures. Possibly Black Thorn scouts."
I slowed.
"Movement analysis?"
"Loitering. Loud. Overconfident. They believe themselves dangerous."
"So the usual gangster type ?."
"Yes."
I pulled my hood lower and slipped into the shadow of an old storefront. Its sign read something that might have once been SHOES or maybe SHOOTS. Hard to tell. Time was unkind.
Three men lounged near the mouth of the next street. Black Thorn markings inked or burnt onto their jackets. One thumped a stick against a rusted container. Another smoked something that smelled like burning chalk. The third picked his teeth with a knife.
Cadence drifted beside me.
"They are not on alert," she whispered.
"Good."
"They are also idiots."
"Also good."
"Would you like to neutralise them?"
"I thought this mission was about being quiet."
"That does not answer my question."
I sighed. "No killing unless they force my hand."
"They might yet force your hand."
"Optimism, Cadence. Try it."
"I prefer accuracy."
I scanned the alley. The men were positioned so sloppily it offended me. They blocked the way forward but not the rooftops.
"Cadence," I said quietly. "Rooftop route viable?"
"Yes. Structural integrity questionable but acceptable for your weight.
I backed up a few steps, braced myself, and jumped.
My fingers caught the edge of a rusted drainpipe. It creaked like it regretted its life choices, but held. I climbed quickly, boots striking the metal with barely a sound thanks to newly calibrated joints.
At the top, I crouched.
The city stretched below, lantern-lit and restless.
Cadence appeared beside me in miniature projection.
"I will never fully understand your need to climb things," she said.
"Height gives advantage."
"Height means falling."
"Ahhh ... something we are familiar with."
"Fair comment."
I moved across the roof, staying low. The tile underfoot cracked quietly, but the men below didn't notice. Their conversation drifted up.
"Boss said why do we guard this road ?"
"No one comes this way."
"Exactly. Easy shift."
"Shut up, you're going to jinx it."
"Jinx what? The walls?"
Cadence hummed like she wanted to critique their logic but couldn't find a starting point.
At the far end of the roof, I dropped silently into a narrow passage behind them. The cold storage block was visible now: a tall, square building of metal and old refrigeration units, its upper vents whistling faintly.
A single light flickered above the side entrance.
Cadence spoke softly.
"Two signatures detected inside the entrance hall. Two deeper inside. Possible additional untracked."
"Four total, maybe more," I murmured. "Rourke was right."
"He was alarmingly accurate about many things."
"That should worry me."
"It does."
I approached the back of the building, where shadows pooled deepest. A service hatch hung crooked. Perfect.
"Iris," Cadence warned. "This is your exit route. If you enter here, extraction will be more difficult."
"So will entering from the front."
"That is correct."
I ducked into the hatch.
The air inside was cold and tasted faintly of rust and old coolant. Metal grates lined the floor. The hum of old machinery vibrated through the walls like a heartbeat long overdue for medical attention.
Cadence dimmed her projection. "Minimal noise," she whispered.
"I am being minimal."
I crept through a narrow maintenance corridor until a vent slit revealed the entrance hall.
Two Black Thorns sat at a table playing a card game that involved shouting insults at each other. Their rifles leaned against the wall behind them. A third stood by the door, yawning often enough to suggest he regretted every decision that brought him here.
No sign of Selene.
"Cadence," I whispered. "Scan for additional rooms."
A faint flicker as she processed.
"Behind this wall," she said. "A repurposed freezer unit. Two signatures inside. One small. One pacing."
Selene.
"And the guard?"
"Her size suggests a woman. Possibly augmented. Scan matches those described earlier."
I breathed out.
"You are anxious," she said.
"Yes."
"Being anxious at such a time is reasonable."
"Stop helping."
I moved down the vent and eased out into the shadows of the main hall. The guards were loud, inattentive, overconfident. My boots whispered across the floor.
Their voices masked the quiet click of me pulling open the side door to the freezer unit.
Inside, cold air curled out.
A girl sat on a crate, wrists bound but posture defiant. Seventeen. Dark hair. Sharp eyes. She looked like Rourke but angrier.
She stared at me.
"You're not them."
"No," I whispered. "Your father sent me."
"Figures," she muttered.
"Do you want to leave?"
"Does a bear crap in the woods ?" She snapped
Cadence' voice warned in my skull. "Guard approaching from the right. Enhanced movement. Heavy."
And then ...
... A shape moved behind Selene.
Tall. Strong. Augmented left arm with plating welded to bone. A scar down the jaw. Eyes that evaluated the world like it owed her money.
She stepped into view.
"Oh," Selene said. "That's a problem."
The woman cracked her knuckles.
"You're not supposed to be here," she growled.
I stepped forward.
"Looking for the bathroom."
"No bathroom here little girl," she said. "This will be quick."
Selene groaned softly. "This is going to go terribly, isn't it."
"More likely than not," I sighed.
"Cadence?" I whispered.
"Yes."
"Advice?"
"Win," she said.