The West Side always smelled like death. Sewage and gas suffocated the air, settling over streets where near-lifeless, starving bodies lay scattered like forgotten debris. The first time I saw it, the horror clung to me for days. But over time, I grew numb to the sight.
The streetlights thinned the deeper I went, until the only illumination came from flickering signs and the red glow of surveillance lenses. After a few turns through narrow alleys, I reached the passageway. Two broad, beast-like men stood guard outside the reinforced door.
"Stand in front of the scanner."
I stepped forward. A thin red beam traced my my head.
"Implant: accepted," the system confirmed.
A pause. Then the lock disengaged.
"You may enter."
I didn't thank them. I never do.
I nodded and descended the narrow staircase that led to an escalator below. At the bottom, I pressed my hand against a sensor, prompting a set of elevator doors to slide open. I stepped inside and pressed the button for Level 0.
Moments later, the doors parted to reveal a lively, chaotic scene. Vendors lined the space, selling everything from illegal tech and weapons to drugs, stolen valuables, and forbidden services. A dense swarm of buyers moved between the stalls, eager and desperate to get their hands on whatever was offered. This was the Underground Exchange. No signs. No laws. Just supply meeting desperation.
I pushed my way through the crowd and finally reached the entrance to my home away from home: The Memory Market.
"Hey, kid! Big contract just came in this morning. Go see Mishka—she'll give you the details," Devin called from his office, eyes still glued to his computer screen.
"Got it, boss. I'm on it," I replied, tossing my coat into the locker before hurrying toward the laboratory. As expected, Mishka was there, her frost white hair peeking out from behind the office chair.
"Hey Mishka, the big boss said there's a new job for us?" I asked.
"Juno! Yes—get over here and take a look. The client wants us to investigate a corp at Hex Industries. The target's name is Victor Blackwood. He's a close partner with the CEO and likely in possession of the intel our client is after," she said, pointing to a large map and a photo of the man displayed on the monitor.
"Its headquarters are located here in the North End," she continued. "I scouted the area earlier and tampered with their security. They usually have about fifty agents on duty during the day—last I checked, there are half of them now."
"Who's the buyer?" I asked.
"Anonymous," Mishka said. "Wants full extraction. No edits."
"Hmm, fair enough. But Hex Industries? Does the client realize how big of a request that is? At this rate, we might as well infiltrate the state," I groaned, leaning back in the chair beside her.
"Hah, I thought the same. But think about it, Jun—the payout has to be massive. You were just saying your brother needs a new pair of shoes. And you know Devin will be generous with our cut from this job. So just hang in there, alright?"
I exhaled slowly. I hated when she did that— but she was right. Kai had tried to glue the soles of his shoes back on last night. He insisted that they were fine, but I can't have the kid walking around practically barefoot.
"Fine," I muttered. "But I still hate corps."
"Me too, girl. But this is how we make a living—we just have to accept it," Mishka said, giving me an empathetic look. "That said, all you need to do is extract the memories from the guy's neuro-core. We'll process them, and the case is closed," she added.
"Alright, I'm in. I'm assuming Ryker will be joining us?"
"Yeah, of course. He went out to get some food, but he should be back soon—" Before Mishka could finish, the door slammed open, and a towering figure with red hair stepped in, snack cakes balanced in his hand.
"Hey guys! Sorry for the wait. What did I miss?" he asked, then proceeded to take a bite out of one of them. His carefree demeanor prompted an amused look from our superior.
"Oh, nothing," Mishka said. "Just filling Juno in on the new contract for tonight. Both of you should get ready though, we leave in an hour. And go see Dexter; he updated our equipment."
"Yes ma'am," Ryker and I replied in unison, giving her a playful salute.
Then we headed to the back room to see what Dexter, our Tech-smith, had in store for us.
"Hey Dex, Mishka sent us." Ryker announced.
"About the new equipment, yeah? It's all here," Dexter said, pulling out a large case to reveal a collection of freshly crafted shock pistols, jackets, pants, and protective gear.
"You outdid yourself," I said, lifting one of the pistols.
Ryker grinned. "We're spoiled."
Our reactions earned a chuckle from him. "Glad to see you two this excited. Keep us in business, and you'll see plenty more where that came from."
After examining all the gear, I slipped into the uniform Dex had prepared for us. He explained the protective wear was lightweight, woven with adaptive fibers. The leather jacket molded perfectly to my form, while the steel-toed boots provided both support and protection—a major upgrade over what we'd been wearing before.
"Oh, Juno—I almost forgot. Here are the new neuro-disruptor darts you requested. Their charge is stronger, and they should disable implants much faster. Let me know how they perform."
Dex handed me a surplus of them. I was excited, to say the least—it would make my job infinitely easier, and I wasn't sure he'd be able to craft them in time. But I should have known, the man always comes through when you need him most.
"Dex, you're a life saver. Thank you so much. I will," I said, grinning as I fastened them to the strap at my thigh. I grabbed a pistol from the case, snapped it into place, and headed back to the lab, where Ryker and Mishka were already ready to head out.
"Oh my, you look adorable, Jun!" Mishka gushed as I stepped into the room. She was only a few years older than me, yet she always carried the same fondness and protectiveness one might reserve for a daughter.
"Took you long enough. We've been waiting forever. Every minute I wait for you is a minute stolen from my beauty sleep," Ryker said in a half-dramatic and teasing tone—earning a sharp smack on the back of the head from her.
"My apologies for the wait, Princess. Shall we get going?" I answered with a cheeky smile. I walked past him and toward the exit.
"Hey, wait! Who are you calling princess?" He shouted, following behind.
Once we reached the surface, we headed to the warehouse a short distance from the market where we kept our vehicles. Mishka and I got into the car, while Ryker climbed onto his motorcycle.
"There's a built-in microphone," Mishka mentioned, handing me the tiny device. I took it from her and secured it in my ear.
"Hey Ry, can you hear me?"
"Yeah, loud and clear."
"Perfect. We'll be there in about half an hour. There's a small parking lot a block away. Follow Jun and me there, and then we'll go over the plan."
"Yes ma'am."
While Mishka drove, I stared out the passenger window as cars traveled beneath Skyfell's neon skyline. The north side shimmered in curated light—soaring towers, spotless streets, security posted at every corner. Every surface polished. Every shadow monitored. Across the river, the West lay in ruin—streets shadowed under broken lamps, buildings sagging and cracked, and people fading into the background, trapped in relentless cycles of poverty and crime. The State Ascendancy didn't care to fix places like that.
"The spot's over here, let's pull in," Mishka said. We then climbed out and regrouped with Ryker. Without a word, Mishka pulled out a device and showed us a holographic layout of the building.
"Blackwood should be on the third floor, left wing. Considering his position, he'll have agents posted. We'll go in through the back, climb to the roof, enter via the escape exit, neutralize the guards, extract his memories, and get out fast," she explained.
Ryker and I nodded in agreement, then pulled our masks into place. With the plan set, we crossed the street toward Hex's headquarters—its all-glass exterior glimmering under the floodlights. As we approached the building, a small red light blinked above the entrance. A camera. It rotated slowly. And stopped directly on me.