“Ivy.” A deep voice from behind me interrupts my breakfast. “Heard you cleaned out my friend last night.”

  If he didn’t want to lose money, he shouldn’t have gambled with me. I can’t respond, and I don’t. I take another bite of slop.

  “You’re going to give him back what you stole.”

  I watch him move in the reflection of my cup. I recognize him, he hangs out with the pit fighters and talks shit, but never fights himself. All bark and no bite. Problem is, he’s flanked by an actual fighter. At least, from what I’ve seen, they aren’t that skilled. No one who makes a living in the pits would be here risking an injury for no pay.

  To his other side stands a skinny man. Yeah, I remember taking a lot of money from him last night. He was very high at the time, but that’s not my problem.

  I take another bite.

  “Are you deaf?” He stops a few feet behind me.

  Just mute.

  All three are armed, but they know better than to shoot me. Mara wants to keep me in one piece, although there’s no chance she’ll care if I get a black eye and a few fractures.

  If he tries anything, I’m allowed to defend myself, and I’d love to burn off some steam. I turn around in my chair, keeping my cup in my hand.

  “Give him what you took, before things get ugly.” He warns me.

  I raise up one hand slowly, curling every finger except my middle.

  My eye sees every muscle in his left arm twitch. His weight shifts unconsciously to prepare for the punch he’s about to deliver, a clumsy, comically large left hook.

  I dump adrenaline into my body.

  I don’t even bother trying to dodge it, idiot couldn’t throw a punch to save his life. He’s going way too wide, taking far too long to impact. I wouldn’t have been able to dodge a straight jab as easily.

  I clutch my drink and thrust it directly into his face long before his punch can land. The glass doesn’t shatter on impact, but I take a picture of it anyway. The ripples running through his skin, spittle and water flying, his hair taking a few milliseconds before realizing he’s moved, it’s all saved directly to my eye. Maybe I should find his tablet later and make it his background? Nah, I’ll just share it with everyone else directly.

  The second fighter springs into action faster than I expected. He lunges forward, arms wide to block any attempt at dodging. I try to pull my elbow down onto his head, but I’m too slow. His shoulder hits me square in the chest, tackling me directly into the table. My spine hits the edge, shooting pain through my body for only a moment before the pain dampeners kick in. Only long enough for me to know I’ve been injured.

  We bounce off the table, heading for the ground, showered by my breakfast. It’s all I can do to avoid hitting my head on the cold metal ground.

  My hip hits first. Another flash of pain wiped away by my implants.

  My arms are still free, I bring one elbow down on the top of his head, and dig my nails into his ear. That gets him to loosen his grip long enough for me to kick him off.

  We both try to scramble to our feet, but the first man has already recovered. His foot hits my ribs, and causes a third flash of pain. The kick is hard enough to knock me flat onto my back.

  I’m not losing this fucking fight.

  He steps forward to try to stomp on my face. My eye flashes an image of me falling onto my back. The glass cup I hit him with has landed just next to me.

  I throw my hands up, barely managing to connect with the side of his leg before his foot meets my face. I move him just far enough to land directly on the cup.

  A sickening crack echoes through the room on impact, and his face begins contorting in pain several milliseconds before he starts screaming.

  The fighter is distracted long enough for me to clamber to my feet, ready for his next movement.

  “Enough.” Mara’s voice commands loudly over the screaming. “Get to work, all of you.”

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  My eye tells me I still have twenty five minutes before I’m allowed to give Vince his breakfast, but alright. I should get moving before someone else takes a shot at me.

  I grab a meal for Vince from the line and walk outside.

  I slowly turn down my pain dampener, only to find a shooting pain with every step coming from my hip. Fucking great, Mara isn’t going to give me time to let that heal. A few of my ribs are also sending out pain with every movement.

  I don’t have that many antibiotic doses stored in my internal canister, but I task one of my co-processors with creating a regiment anyway. If I get infected, I’m dead. I can’t take that risk.

  My back is sore, but I don’t think anything is fractured there. Glad I’m not paralyzed today.

  The walk down to the prison is far less eventful thankfully. The thick front door opens for me, and begins to close the moment I’m through.

  I set Vince’s food off to the side and gingerly lay down on the floor. I turn down my pain dampener and begin to probe my injuries. Four separate ribs hurt when pressed on, but my hip may not be as bad as it could be. The pain originates from the outside of my hip, if I’m lucky I just chipped the bone a little. Even if that’s not the case, at least I’ll be able to walk on it until Cassie, Blue, and Corax save us.

  If walking on it ruins my ability to walk in the long term, well, I’m sure Cassie will have some advice.

  My eye sends me an alarm to my cochlear nerve only a short bit later. I grab the tray of food, brace myself against the wall, and push myself to my feet. I’m waiting in front of the door thirty seconds before a small section of the door slides open, revealing a shelf behind it.

  He just keeps looking worse every time I see him. No matter how much he tries to hide it, I can see his fear in every muscle in his face. How long do I have before there’s nothing left to save?

  Cassie better leave enough of her alive for me to kill. She got Seven, Mara’s mine.

  “You’re injured.” Of course he can see right through me. I’m trying to keep weight off my hip, I should have known he’d notice.

  Ok. I signal while placing the tray on the ledge. I won.

  The slide slams shut, cutting me off from him.

  My hand clenches, and falls limply against the heavy door. I spin around and let myself slide down it slowly.

  The small syringe calls to me from my pocket. I wouldn’t have to see him hurting. It’d be so easy to just run from my problems, just like I used to. Forget everything, and only come back to reality if Cassie saves us.

  How many years has it been since I did anything hard? Five? I know for sure I relapsed a few times after Vince, Cassie, and Drew found me, so it’s probably not quite five yet. Even after all this time, it still has its hooks in me.

  I wish I could give it to Vince. He’s obviously sleep deprived. Sure, melding with him will help if we do it right, but I have the ability to help him now. I just need to sneak it past an AI with a camera on every wall. And then to somehow disguise that he’s not mentally there for 24 hours.

  No matter how much my heart burns to give him any relief, I can’t. If I break our agreement? A chill runs down my spine. I wonder if this was Mara’s plan the whole time? Give me Oblivion for him, to break me down until I break our agreement. I wouldn’t put it past her.

  Speak of the devil. The front door to the prison slides open, and she steps through. This body looks human, the only hint I can see that she’s not is the lack of blood running beneath her artificial skin.

  She looks to be in her twenties, with short blond hair and a cruel, expecting grin sitting permanently on her face.

  She won’t even let him finish his breakfast.

  “Ivy. Such a surprise to see you here.” She draws out every word, reveling in the fact we both know what she’s about to do to Vince, and to command me to do something awful. “There’s a man named Brent who’s been stealing from me. Find proof, and execute him.” She pulls a wicked, jagged knife from her waistband and hands it to me. “Make it public, and make it brutal.”

  I grab the knife out of her hands and head outside. She waits by Vince’s door, staring at me until I leave the prison and the door closes behind me.

  Sorry I can’t do anything Vince. But she will get her due.

  Focus. I know Brent, some wannabe kid that just joined. He’s been complaining that he deserves more every time I’ve seen him.

  My visual co-processors have been automatically mapping out the city as I move, keeping track of every individual person's movements. It’s seen him going into the same bedroom a few times, that’s probably his.

  It doesn’t take long for me to make my way to his door. No response comes from my knock, and testing the door only reveals that it’s locked. Must be nice.

  I pull a lockpick and tensioner disguised as a bobby pin out of my hair and get to work popping it open. I’m not as good as Cassie, but this lock is as cheap as possible. It’s only a matter of seconds before the door swings open.

  The room on the other side isn’t much different than mine. Just a bed and a dresser. There’s no obvious camera in the corner, but I’d be amazed if Mara didn’t have eyes in here. Question is then, why did she need me to investigate?

  A picture hangs on the wall, with obvious scratches from it being moved dug into the surface next to it. Come on buddy, at least try to hide it. I swing the painting to the side.

  Ah, so that’s her game. Behind the painting is a small alcove, stocked with drugs and money. A small vial of clear liquid catches my eye. Silk. Euphoria in a bottle.

  I need proof, and this is proof. With shaking hands I palm the vial and drop it into my pocket.

  I leave the rest where it is. I don’t want anyone to think I planted all this here. Leaving his fingerprints on it is for the best.

  Now I just need to figure out how to brutally murder a man in public without getting shot myself.

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