I took deep, quiet breaths. Six men were waiting up those stairs. I had little more than the heavy pistol that weighed in my claws, heavier than ever. I racked my brain hard, eyeing the maintenance doors and camera locations. Not a single camera had a lit 'on' light. None of them panned back and forth. The soft chatter of the voices grated against my ears.

  "Target is off the train by now." One voice chimed. I couldn't make anything out about them, their voice a modulated synthetic mess.

  "Agreed. No help has arrived. We push in one minute. Deal with the glitch-gecko. Gear check." The sounds of straps being tightened and weapons primed sent chills down my spine. I was to die here.

  Even as the thoughts crossed my mind, a soft buzz filled my ear. Hovering in front of me was a buzzing insect, glittering with steel and whirring with servos. I tilted my head gently at it. It would fit in the palm of my hand. It zipped off up the stairs silently. The indicator lights of the cameras slowly flickered back to life. As they began to pan, it was all as one, watching the same spot in space, like a dozen eyes working in tandem. Three more insects buzzed past and up the stairs, crawling from vents.

  A soft clatter of treads rumbled from the top of the stairs. Boots scuffed the concrete as the six corporate soldiers turned to face it. I couldn't help myself, leaning out to watch as two drones rattled along on metallic and rubberized treads, panning assault rifles down the steps. The corporate soldiers all snapped their weapons up in unison, but blinding flashes and screaming speakers lit up all around them from four indiscernible sources. A raking enfilade of fire poured down the hall, stitching rounds across their formation with rhythmic thuds.

  The flaring lights died down, revealing three dead soldiers, their bodies rolling down the stairs. Two of the other three took cover behind the third, who held up a shimmering mana shield with their hand hooked almost like a claw in the air, wavering like heat on the highway, bullets caught midair on its surface. With a sharp word, they fired right back with a dozen cracks, peppering the prow armor of the drones.

  Both drones began to fire again, and the two soldiers returned fire with their heavy rifles. Sparks flew from the prow armor of the drones as both the rounds of the rifles peppered their surface, and rounds were flung back at them by the mage. The assault had come so suddenly that the soldiers hadn't even managed to key their comms. From between the two drones came a humanoid figure. Full combat armor covered their body from head to toe. Their proportions said human, lacking the spindly limbs of elves or the overly thick muscle-laden limbs of an orc.

  Then their form blurred, trailing stretched afterimages with every step. Every bullet that passed them seemed to hang in the air for what was only a split moment, but seemed like an eternity. The afterimages of a man slid underneath the mana shield with ease, spinning to face their backs before they could register what happened. Three shots echoed, hammering each corporate soldier in the back of the head, their bodies sprawling forward with the impacts.

  The drones pumped rounds into their bodies for another five seconds before falling silent, save the rattling of rounds feeding from their hoppers. Steam roiled out from under the plates of the tactical armor, the person's shoulders heaving. "What... are you waiting for? Get up the stairs," A distinctly masculine voice rumbled from them as they looked down the stairs at me.

  I let out the breath I found myself holding, nodding curtly. "Roger that." I began to pull myself up the stairs by the railing, one hand to my side. One tracked drone scanned past the two of us. The other rotated and vanished over the lip of the stairs, its rattling treads growing fainter. "My..." I fought back another retch brought on by the pain. "My boss sent you?"

  "Something like that. Talk later. Get in the ride and strap down. Gotta head damn near the other side of The Bench," he chided, quickly bounding up the stairs between heavy breaths. As soon as I crested the top of the stairs, I saw an Axiom Dynamics armored car, engine still rattling, the corpse of a Decker torn from their cradle, neck broken, hung from one window. Dominating the street behind it was another armored vehicle, bigger and bulkier, the armed drone trundling up its back ramp. I followed as fast as I could.

  Lying in a cradle in the back was an elven woman with grey skin, various data links plugged into the back of her skull, eyes glimmering as they dove into the Net. The armored human carefully pushed me down into a seat, snapping the 5-point harness around my chest tightly. "We'll get you sorted. Just stay still. Selector wants you as well cared for as I can provide." He pulled the helmet free of his head, showing a plain-looking man with a strong jawline and short beard. His eyes glimmered softly with an inner light as he looked me over, only glancing away to check that the last drone clicked into its rack neatly. The back ramp popped shut with a hiss of hydraulics, the vehicle beginning to move despite the empty driver's seat. It followed the lines of sparse traffic far too smoothly to be on autopilot.

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  The way the human's body almost leaned before the car turned stood out sharply. "Fine puppeteering, friend." I offered, taking a stuttering deep breath.

  "Just a lot of experience." He cracked his neck, only half looking at me, eyes focused almost past me on a road only he could see. "Looks like you're alright, just sit pretty." Finally, he turned and wandered up towards the front of the armored vehicle, settling in the driver's seat. The back of his head was a mess of data ports and connections, one cable feeding from the back of his skull and into a large computer bag hanging from his shoulder. He drew another cable free and plugged it into the vehicle, going limp. The rattle of the equipment melted into the dull roar of the vehicle's engine as the night caught up to me. Exhaustion and nausea from a long night of drinking bled into the sharp, sickening pain in my side, pulling me under. It dragged my eyes almost shut, kept open only by the bumps in the road.

  Something in me called for panic, but I couldn't muster the energy to do more than be annoyed. My job was lost, and a megacorp was interested in turning my skull inside out, all over something I didn't even understand. "What a shitty day." I rubbed my snout with my cybernetic hand. The cool steel sent a shiver down my spine. "Be over soon." I huffed. My head fell back against the well-worn headrest of the seat. Though I didn't fall asleep, the drive passed in a blink. I was dragged from the fugue state by the rocking of the suspension and the dying cry of the engine as it shut down. I took a deep, long breath as the back ramp fell open. The drowish woman was sitting up in her seat, unplugging from the mess of cables connected to the back of her skull. She barely spared a glance for me, wandering down the ramp and into the darkness of the night.

  The human stepped out, rubbing the back of his head. "You good enough to stand? Got somewhere you can stay for the night here. The Selector will wanna talk with you soon, but he won’t want you to be stuck on repeat, or something like that."

  "I... think so. I'll be fine." Slowly, I pushed to my feet, tail swaying to keep my balance. The night air waged war with the heated vest under my jacket, my breath forming in the air as I stepped out of the car. Ahead of me was an old-looking restaurant. Though its sign was off, I still made out the name, Zion's Kitchen. The drow woman was unlocking the front door, with the human walking beside me, guiding me towards it. I carefully stepped inside, the thick scent of smoked meats curling through the air from the lit kitchen area. Staff bustled about quietly, preparing for the next day's shift.

  The human guided me deeper in, through a heavy door, and into the second story of the building. The sounds of the bustling kitchen gently echoed through the floor and walls. "The rest of your team got out safe, by the way," the man hummed idly. "Just at different safehouses."

  "Who are you, anyways?" The words came from my mouth before I knew I was saying them.

  "Call me Maestro. We tend to avoid real names, here. Working in the shadows, and all. The Selector is a fixer. Don't worry. He's a good man. As good as you can get, anyway." He pulled a door open. Within was a musty, hastily put-together bedroom. A large kit bag sat on the old steel-framed bed. A small table and single chair were pressed against one wall, with a freshly bought space heater already thrumming in the corner, a humidifier whispering away in the opposite corner.

  "Okay... Sorry. Starting to process. Long night? Day? Hell if I know, now." I wandered into the room, sitting down. The bag had the Charon's gate logo embroidered along the side, my name stitched into the straps. "How'd you get my kitbag?"

  "One of your team members was in the Arcology. They grabbed what they could for everyone. Think it was the lady."

  I gave a firm nod. "Makes sense. Alright. Gonna... try and get some sleep," I sighed. Maestro nodded idly, backing out of the room and shutting the door. I took a deep breath, rubbing the back of my head. My side throbbed harder, drawing a hiss from my throat as I bent to the side, unzipping the bag. Inside, at the top, were clothes, the contents of my gun safe, my body armor and helmet, and cans of calcium. The strap of my medical kit poked through between two sets of shirts.

  I grasped it, giving a sharp tug to free the side bag from the clothes, letting them spill onto the bed. Various items fell to the bed or floor with a soft clatter. The metallic frame of a face-down photo gave me pause, but I shook my head. Tossing the bloodstained jacket, vest, and shirt to the floor, I took a deep breath, sucking it through my fangs as I looked over the broken scales and nasty red bruising.

  Hooking my jacket with a toe claw, I dragged it back, digging through to pull a blunt and my lighter free. With a quick light and long drag, I set to work, grasping forceps and bandages to tend the wound. By the time I finished, the pain only felt like a dull, deep ache through the haze that settled over my mind like a blanket. Even after cleaning the wound, sticky and drying blood oozed between my scales, dripping down my side and front of my leg.

  But it was all I could do to finish wrapping the bandage tight around my midsection. With that, I kicked the last of my clothes off and pushed the contents of my kitbag onto the floor, falling backwards for what felt like an eternity. Asleep long before my head hit the pillow.