I arrived at a grungy little off path storage unit on the edge of Chromeline. The corrugated doors still wore rain in streaks. Rows of identical units marched away down the yard like teeth, each door stamped with a peeling number and the same tired neon wash reflected in every dent. Oil tracked the concrete in thin black rivers, and the overhead lamps spat out a dirty, tired light. LowKey was meant to disappear into the landscape; the sameness kept you invisible if you moved like everyone else.

  I quickly tapped my code into the keypad for unit PV-088-B, a simple ten by twenty unit that looked exactly how you would expect at first. A small poorly lit room with a few old boxes of random crap along one wall. I stepped to the back of the unit, and triggered a subroutine from my personal link which gave me access to the closed loop subnet I had installed in the unit that linked to a hidden door. A panel split and slid to the side, allowing access to my hideaway base of operations, the Nest.

  A whir of old, outdated systems kicked on with the pink and blue lights that filled the room with a purple hue. I had hashed the network together with scavenged parts, and paid an AI to create a the layered firewalls that kept me hidden from most scans in the city. In-depth and focused hacks would probably get through, but they’d need to know were the unit was and get through the storage yard’s AI security to even begin. Possible, but extremely unlikely.

  I set my jacket on the back of a folding chair and cracked a cold energy drink from a mini fridge I used to prop up one side of the desk. I was dying to know what was on the datachip from Vera. I couldn’t shake how strange it was that she gave it to me on recording without explaining mission details. She normally packed her briefings with enough secondary data to put me to sleep. Physical media in Peachveil was practically unheard of, everything ran on streams and networks with redundant backups. This could be part of the test, or it could be something more. Only way to know for sure was to boot up the chip and take a look.

  I slotted the chip into a beat up reader I had pulled from a repair shop that got obliterated by a hang fight a few months back. It took a few moments to read and load on my system. There was only a single document file on the drive, no supporting documents so it wasn’t going to be a complicated gig. I loaded the file eager to see what kind of shit storm I was walking into. The familiar blue eye logo flashed on the screen for a moment before the dossier loaded.

  ASSET NYX-3117 // ASSIGNMENT DIRECTIVE

  HANDLER: Vera KORRIN

  CLASSIFICATION: HIGH PRIORITY / CONFIDENTIAL

  TARGET: Jared Bonn.

  Designation: Conscripted Asset B-4427.

  Status: Rogue. Termination authorized after package recovery.

  OBJECTIVE:

  Recover the following:

  ? Portable encrypted drive — black casing, unmarked. Contains prototype documentation.

  ? Weapon prototype — compact energy firearm, serial code removed. OmniCore property.

  Integrity of items exceeds value of subject.

  LOCATION:

  Last known fix: Chromeline perimeter, west approach into Ash Sector. Subject mobile, evasive.

  ASSESSMENT:

  Asset displays paranoia, limited combat capacity. Expect resistance. Avoid collateral; no unnecessary exposure.

  PARAMETERS:

  ? Secondary conscript deployed to same objective.

  ? Competition authorized.

  ? Efficiency metrics apply.

  ? Failure will trigger reassessment.

  END DIRECTIVE.

  I started making mental notes of the important bits. Recover two items, a weapon prototype and its documentation. OmniCore valued data over objects, so the drive was likely the primary concern. Termination was authorized after recovery of the items, but not outright demanded. The asset was moving to the Ash, so this could result in gang interference, ‘Collateral?’ Vera’s voice echoed in my head. I studied the image of the target.

  He was a conscript like me, but he didn’t look like much of a fighter. They likely had already written him off. There wasn’t much that stood out about his appearance, he blended well into a crowd with his boring grey suit, short cropped blonde hair, and blue eyes. I searched for a tell, and finally caught the scar next to his left eye. It was hard to see in the photo but there was a slight jagged crescent from an old wound that wasn’t healed medically. It wasn’t much but it was something.

  The document was unusually slim, Vera was always very direct but this felt like it was intentionally leaving something out. The job was simple, too. Why did she need more than one merc on this? She had called it a test, but I couldn’t shake the idea there was something else to it. On the bus ride here, I received an encrypted text from her to destroy the chip once I had the mission details. I decided that I was probably over-thinking it and just needed to get this done so she’d hopefully get off my ass for a while.

  I closed the file and ejected the chip. I considered making a backup, but she’d probably trace that. I opened a drawer and pulled out a jar of caustic liquid. I cracked the chip in half and dropped it in the jar, watching the material sizzle and dissolve before putting it back in the drawer. I had enough to work with, now I needed to hit the streets and start gathering intel.

  I slipped my jacket back on, and stepped over to the mirror on the wall. I wasn’t well known in the ash, and I wanted to keep it that way. I activated the subroutines to shift my eyes to a neutral brown color, and my hair to a brighter blue than the single streak of Omni blue that I could never change for some reason. The last thing I needed was a bunch of Cinder Rats clocking me as an Omni merc. I wanted to look like a random street punk to get through the Ash. I swapped a few piercing studs for spikes or rings just to give the look a little more edge.

  I made my way out of the Nest, shutting down the systems and securing the hidden door. I paused for a moment. I was almost completely off-grid in here, and stepping back out into the city put me back into constant surveillance. I had learned that from working with OmniCore, there are eyes everywhere and they belonged to many entities. I hated walking back out into that much visibility, but I had a job to do.

  ————————————————————————————————

  An hour or so later, I walked down a mostly unassuming sidewalk towards the Ash. There was an unsettling transition between the Ash and it’s surrounding sectors that even extended to the architecture. Coming from Chromeline, I was walking past slightly grungy but mostly maintained modernized buildings. Once I hit the border, the general state of repair started to drop quickly. Buildings were heavily coated in graffiti and pocked with bullet holes. Broken down cars sat along the side of the road with busted glass and stolen tires. Strays littered the sidewalk, and you could never be sure if they were asleep or dead.

  The air in Peachveil was far from clean, but in the Ash it was almost rancid. The stench of rotting garbage, burned flesh and refuse, and the sick-sweet decay that oozed from almost every building in the sector. You could get away from the worst of it once you got to the more populated areas, but the more rundown areas were soaked in it. There were actually some nice areas if you knew where to look, but nice was a relative term.

  There’s a curtain of destruction that runs the borders of the Ash Sector. The barrier that keeps most people away from the danger. If you are smart or tough enough to traverse through the gun fights and collapsed roadways, there were rebuilt portions funded with blood-money. These were the places that mercenaries and gang members alike could wind down in ways that would be more frowned upon in the nicer districts. Currently I was focused on making it through that curtain of the border.

  I climbed over some rubble, cautiously watching the dangling maglev cars overhead. I could smell plastic burning from a trash fire in a nearby scavenger camp. A familiar rattle of automated gunfire echoed from somewhere, but not close enough to worry about. I steadied myself with a hand against a pockmarked pillar, noting the mix of graffiti and gang tags. A few notable tags stood out: the swirling red paint mixed with tower-like AR of the Crimson Spires, an occasional floating 404 from the Glitch Hounds, and some stylized flaming rat skulls of the Cinder Rats.

  I eased my way through the debris carefully, every shadow was prime for an ambush. I had built up a little rep working jobs in the Ash before, and a few people might recognize NyxVyxn here, but not everyone. Someone might still mistake me for easy prey. I had no interest in bleeding for their mistake or sitting through another lecture from Vera about metrics.

  I threaded my way through and could tell I was nearing the edge of the curtain as the scenery started to shift. The smoke-charred buildings started to look more sturdy, and the loose debris in the streets was piled against purposely placed barricades. Graffiti tags shifted to directional codes, old marks mixed with new tags pointing to various goods or services. I exited a tarp covered alley into a bustling flea market running through an old overpass channel.

  Everything from food to ammunition could usually be found in these places. Money changed hands quickly here, deals were purposeful and lucrative, and haggling was generally frowned upon. You paid what the merchant wanted, one way or another. Always.

  I wasn’t expecting to find him, but I did scan the crowds for my target as I passed through. I also kept a running count of the exits, in case I needed to bolt. I tagged a few gang members in my HUD, recognizing their colors. No one seemed to be tracking me that I could tell, but it’s always good to be aware with that many guns waving around. I kept my pace up, I needed to go deeper into the sector.

  When you need information, as cliché as it is, the best places to look are the watering holes. Something about clubs, bars, and dives get people in the mood to trade information. There was a great spot not far from here that always had whispers of the latest events in the Ash. I was heading for the Flicker.

  Once I was out of the flea market, I had to dip through a few busier streets. Familiar flashes of the city echoed here in a rustier visage patched with sheet metal and dotted with neon signs. The slums here actually reminded me of the Vents, but with the corporate branding replaced with gang signs. Ramshackle booths and vendors popped up at random, but more traditional ones than the flea market stalls. These sold general food and supplies, cast-offs from raids or junk the nicer sectors wouldn’t touch.

  I followed the trail of markings, trying to remember my steps from my last visit, until eventually I reached the re-purposed warehouse. Bass from within rattled the metal outside, and you could feel it in your chest as you got closer. It didn’t look like much on the outside, whoever ran the place spent most of their cash on the inside. I was a little surprised it hadn’t caved in. I braced myself before stepping inside.

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  Heat and smoke hit me as soon as I crossed the threshold of the entrance. My HUD immediately flashed with warnings that I dismissed already expecting them. The Flicker pumped a mood fog through the vents, a diluted cocktail of mood enhancers and stimulants to keep wallets open and fists down. I let my bio monitor start filtering in my lungs to prevent myself from getting swept up in the effects.

  Pole dancers spun around on raised platforms, chrome implants reflecting the hard room light. Servers wearing not much more than straps and mesh slid between rough looking cutters and skulls too drunk to care about much. Booths along the walls hid deals, debts, and daggers, clearly where the biz took place. A packed dance floor filled the center of the room around a small but noticeably armored DJ booth. Something worth remembering.

  The crowd washed around me as I moved deeper, a restless churn of burners and hustlers looking for marks. I let them blur. My system tagged exposed weapons and recognizable chrome, tallied signals between clusters of bodies, all while my internals continuously filtered the mood fog. The dancers, the music, the smoke, it was all a mask. The Flicker wanted you distracted so you wouldn’t notice the pull. Everything around me leaned towards the rear where the velvet curtains hung heavy, and exposed flesh peeked through. This was where most of the money was really made.

  I pushed through with purpose, not temptation. If OmniCore hadn’t collared me, I could have just as easily wound up working one of these back rooms. The dancers and escorts weren’t just eye candy either. They sold what people really paid for in Peachveil: secrets, favors, leverage, escapism. Different tools, same trade, and I was looking to buy.

  I stepped into a hallway that was tighter, more intimate, between some deceptively dressed but heavily augmented security staff. A blend of neon and AR signage dotted along reinforced steel walls hidden behind strands of crushed velvet. At the end of the hallway just before the doorway to the back rooms stood a podium-like console. A rather androgynous person stood at the podium, decked out in club gear and high-end tech, and an illuminated sign that simply read Manager hung from the edge of the podium.

  The Manager was clearly tapped directly into the club’s systems via the partial visor and chrome headgear hardwired into the podium. A holographic console was projected above the surface where their hands moved quickly, fluid and precise. I barely managed to clock the heavy shutters that hung in the ceiling, indicating they could lock this section down tight if the need arose. The manager was already scanning me as I approached, likely trying to determine what I was looking for before I even said anything.

  “Hey doll, looking for masc, femme, or something else tonight?” the calm and smooth voice poured from the Manager’s lips.

  “Femme. What’s available? I need something specific tonight.” I said, sliding a small roll of cash onto the podium. It disappeared quickly.

  “We’ve got anything you need, love. Curves, claws, pretty eyes, soft ears, fast hands… you name it.”

  I could tell the Manager was running code past me, the escorts here were just as much information brokers as pleasure dealers, and they clearly had a system in place to match with the clientele. I thought quickly about the words in the list before responding.

  “Pretty eyes, like yours.”

  “Oh, you flatter! One sec...” they replied coyly.

  A panel opened and a silver keycard engraved with the number sixteen rose up on the edge of the podium in front of me.

  “Sixteen. All the way back, left side. The door will unlock once you pay the bill. Have fun, doll!” they declared.

  I palmed the key and slipped through the curtains, clocking the scanner arch hidden between them. Beyond lay a darker, more seductive row of private booths. The doors weren’t fully soundproof; I caught muffled voices, laughter, and the occasional moan beneath the thumping bass from the dance floor. The farther back I walked, the quieter it became as frosted glass gave way to solid steel. Red SECURED lights glowed beside most rooms, marking the ones built for discretion that were already occupied. I found my door, scanned the card, and slipped inside as the double layered door closed with a thunk and locked, loudly, behind me.

  The room was lush, clean, and well maintained. It oozed with seductive comfort under the soft glow of the pulsing colored lights. Mirrors lined the ceiling above the large round bed in the center of the room. Low volume electro-pop emanated from speakers hidden in the bed frame while the soft sounds of a waterfall fountain trickled nearby. I was alone in the room.

  I removed my jacket and boots and sat on the bed, taking a moment to enjoy the scent of incense burning on the nearby dresser. The room spoke to a level of cleanliness and comfort that was otherwise absent from the rest of the club. These rooms were clearly newer construction and designed with purpose. The walls were still hung with lush fabrics, but I noted the steel walls behind them were painted a glossy black which amplified the feeling of isolation. A motor whirred, a panel split, and a figure emerged through back-lit fog. I couldn’t see into where she had come from, but I noted it was not the entrance I had used.

  She gracefully strode towards the bed as the panel closed, wisps of smoke choking out through the crack as it sealed without a trace. Her hips swayed with each step behind a curtain of a soft silk dress. I took a deep breath and felt the anticipation heavy in the air. We both knew this game well, and I appreciated the technique. Her light purple eyes were locked on mine the entire time, sharp and focused above plump, shimmering lips.

  We laced our fingers together as she climbed into my lap, purpose mixing with desire. I ran my free hand along the small of her back steadying her as she settled onto my thighs. Her light brown skin was as soft as mine, likely the same implant popular in this trade. I shuddered as she ran a hand across my exposed collar bone.

  “Do you want to talk first… or after?” she asked breathily.

  “Let’s play it by ear.” I answered, carrying her further into the bed. “You been working here long?”

  “A couple years now.” She replied moving to lay close beside me, fingertips tracing my jawline.

  “You watch from above, don’t you? Pretty eyes like yours don’t miss much” I asked, flicking my eyes up at the mirror ceiling.

  She kissed just beneath my jaw, her breath hot against my skin, running a hand up my outer thigh, letting it rest on the side of my hip.

  “I see plenty, especially when scrolling the security feeds.” she murmured.

  I hadn’t noticed she had already undone my belt and unbuttoned my jeans until I shifted and felt them start to peel away. She was good at this, I could learn from her. I let her tug at my jeans, lifting my legs to help them slide off and drop to the floor. She ran a hand up my neck, and I deftly turned to kiss her, diverting her fingers into my hair but away from the brand on my neck. I wasn’t ready to let that card slip just yet.

  Her lips brushed lower, a deliberate drag against the nape of me neck, and I caught my breath despite myself. She was working me open in a practiced rhythm, every move and touch honed to lower my defenses. I let her work, mentally taking notes. She was weaving this into a game where she knew all the rules, if I wasn’t careful she would read me like a book. I rolled her beneath me, stealing a kiss meant for my jaw and pressing harder than I needed to. She didn’t resist, only arched up to meet me, her smile sharp against my lips.

  “I’m looking for someone. Bland, boring, corpo type. Probably nervous as fuck.” I whispered through her purple natural curls.

  I moaned as she lifted her thigh between mine and pressed it against my clit with gentle precision. She was making sure that she stayed in control of the momentum. I shuddered as she firmly rubbed her leg against me. She arched up for another kiss and slipped out of the top of her dress in a single fluid motion, pulling me down to her as she continued to work her leg between mine.

  “Most corpos are nervous in here, bland or otherwise.” She whispered back.

  I decided to get shift the scene in my favor. I ran my hand down her thigh and slipped under the fabric of her dress, realizing she wasn’t wearing anything underneath. I probed my fingers around her wet lips, smirking as she gasped in response. We changed positions, I lifted her up from the bed, and moved behind her. She leaned into me, tugging at the hem of my top until I peeled it over my head and tossed it aside. Now bare against her, I slid one hand between her legs and the other across her breast as she began to squirm, clearly enjoying the new dynamic.

  “He’d be with Omni, trying poorly to hide it though. Maybe setting up a meet to drop off stolen goods.” I said, gently nibbling at her earlobe.

  “Scar? Here?” she asked, pressing a finger next to my left eye as her breath quickened.

  I nodded, nuzzling my head against hers. She had clocked the same tell, she was good at this. I pushed two of my fingers inside of her, alternating their rhythm and matching the beat of the music. She looped an arm over my head and grasped my neck for support. I winced, hoping she wouldn’t feel the brand through my damp hair.

  “Mmm… yeah. I saw him. Last night.” Her words kept catching in her throat. “Ah… he sat at the bar. Never touched a drink. He scanned the crowd like clockwork, watching for someone.”

  “Did he find them?” I asked, working her clit with my thumb.

  “No. Mmm… fuck. He… He got a call and then paid for a booth. No escort, someone from outside met him. Gave him an envelope.” She sighed, rocking against me as she rotated her hips to make sure I hit the spots she wanted.

  I gently wrapped a hand around her throat, clenching her jaw and lifting it up as I continued to finger her to the beat. We locked eyes and I could tell she was close.

  “Any idea who it was? The outsider?” I asked, pausing my fingers.

  “Not sure, seen him before though. Think he’s a Rat.” She whimpered, begging me to continue.

  “Did you see what was in the envelope?” I asked, slowly pulling my fingers out making sure she would answer.

  “He started to open it, looked like a map but the Rat slapped his hand and told him not to open it in here. He knew we’d be watching. Looked like it pointed out towards Rat territory in the Ash though.” She curled her tongue at me as I plunged my fingers back inside of her.

  She slipped her other hand behind her, between my legs and slipped a few fingers inside of me. We matched each other’s pace as we worked, each trying to get the other over the edge first. I thought I had the edge, having a head start, but her fingers were magic. I felt the heat build as I slipped first, moaning loudly as I climaxed. She joined me a second later.

  She pulled my hand from her and pressed my wet fingers against my lips, urging me to taste her as she slipped her fingers into her mouth. I obliged, surprised at the candy-sweet taste. Modified, of course. The trade always made sure pleasure overrode thought. A clever trick. She kissed me again, probing her tongue into my mouth. We collapsed onto the bed, and laced our fingers together again as we caught our breath. I pulled her close as she nuzzled her face against my chest.

  I didn’t linger long, though I could have easily spent the night in her arms. This was biz, however, not pleasure. I released her after a few moments and started getting dressed. She was up, clothed, and standing near where she had entered before I finished. Her eyes lit up for a moment, and then the invoice hit my HUD. She nodded towards a small terminal next to the door I had entered, and waved kindly as she retreated through the fog-filled hidden door. I scrubbed the itemized list, and paid with my encrypted OmniCore credit account.

  I marched back out to the club, and found a spot at the bar. I needed to take a moment and recoup after all that. I ordered some cold water, and started running the information over in my head. I acted like I didn’t notice the eyes watching me as I came from the back, seems word travels fast here. I wondered if she had marked me as an Omni merc or not, it didn’t matter much but affiliations could be used as leverage.

  An athletic elbow hit the bar next to me as I sipped my water, letting the cold liquid wash the lingering tastes from my mouth. I glanced over and caught her appearance as she leaned in. Platinum buzz cut, focus amber eyes clearly on the hunt, tattoos glowing faintly along her skin. She didn’t bother with an introduction, just smiled with a cocky, knowing glance.

  “Water in the glass, lipstick on the collar. Most people would want something a little stronger after leaving the booths.” her voice carried over the blasting music.

  “Depend on what you’re here for.” I said, returning my gaze to my glass.

  She chuckled. “Same as you, I’d bet. Heard there’s a little rabbit running around the Ash. Skittish, jumpy, carrying a package. Corpo ears on that one, cute scar.” She ran a painted fingernail in a crescent next to her left eye, daring me to react.

  I turned to look at her, drinking in her style and confidence, knowing I was still feeling the effects of my time in the booth. I felt a spark, attraction laced with the urge to slid a knife between her ribs.

  “Maybe you should chase rabbits elsewhere.” I mocked.

  “Ha! I like this one.” She laughed, low and satisfied, like I’d given her exactly what she wanted. She tapped her knuckle on the bar twice, and she downed the drink that appeared in one go as she stood. “Try not to get too far ahead of me, Nyx.”

  My name stung as it crossed her lips. This was the other asset Vera had on the job, as I had suspected. She was gone before I could quip back, faded into the crowd as quickly as she had appeared. I felt a pang of relief and regret. There was something in the air between us, but I wrote it off as the mood fog. I finished my water and turned to head for the door but found a new set of watching eyes approaching.

  “Two hounds sniffing after the same rabbit in my club? That’s new.” the voice came from a wiry figure that seemed to glow as they passed. “Follow.”

  They raised their hand, beckoning me with a curling finger as they pushed open a door marked Employees Only. I sighed and caught up.