The Rust Veil buzzed beneath the Undercity’s crumbling overpass. It was a maze of tarp-covered stalls and glowing holo-ads hawking everything from black-market cybernetics to synth-blood shots. The stench of burnt oil hung in the air alongside the hum of failing generators, the shouts of vendors, and the clatter of rusted metal.

  Kass “Riot” Vex navigated the narrow pathways with ease, her leather jacket bristling with chrome studs, an unlit cigarette dangling from her lips.

  Velira Nocturne moved beside her, black coat like a funeral shroud, her pale skin a stark contrast.

  They found Skiv at the edge of the market, leaning against the rusted shipping container that served as his “office.” The information broker was a wiry man with a cybernetic eye that whirred erratically. A holo-tattoo on his arm—a generic skull that kept glitching into a smiley face—flickered as he scratched at it. Kass approached, his smirk faltering when Velira stepped into view.

  “Kass. Always a pleasure,” Skiv drawled. “Didn’t expect you to bring… her. Thought she didn’t do social calls.”

  “She doesn’t.” Kass lit her cigarette with her antique lighter and exhaled a plume of smoke, letting it curl between them.

  “But I figured you might need some motivation to be honest for once. You sent me a ping. Said you had something big. VantaCorp. Datacore transfer. Let’s hear it.”

  Skiv’s good eye glinted with greed, his smirk returning.

  “Straight to business, huh? Alright, I’ve got intel—VantaCorp’s moving a datacore tonight, lower sector depot, 2300 hours. Weapons transfer, probably a corrupt official selling decommissioned guns to some street gang. Core should have the keycodes and location of the cache. Small convoy, minimal security. Worth a fortune if you know where to offload it. I’ll need five hundred credits upfront for the tip.”

  Kass tapped ash onto the ground.

  “Five hundred? Fuck off, Skiv. You reached out to us, not the other way around. What’s the catch? You’re too eager for creds—you want something else.”

  Skiv’s mouth twisted slightly, feigning hurt.

  “Just good business. Take it or leave it.”

  Velira moved closer as Skiv recoiled instinctively.

  “You’re hiding something. Speak, or I’ll find the truth myself.”

  Skiv’s cybernetic eye whirred faster as a bead of sweat rolled down his temple.

  “Alright, fine. There’s a grunt—Tark, Iron Viper enforcer. He’s been…an inconvenience. Take him out, and I’ll throw in the intel for half price. Happy now?”

  Kass leaned forward.

  “That’s not the whole story. You’re still holding back. Spill it, or we walk—and you deal with the Vipers alone.”

  “Fuck,” Skiv’s shoulders slumped, his voice dropping.

  “It’s my sister, Lita. She runs a stall in the lower sector. Tark’s been extorting her—threatening her, taking her creds, you know, ‘protection’. I can’t get near him without the Vipers coming for me. I just… I need him gone to keep her safe.”

  Kass exchanged a look with Velira.

  “Tark’s as good as dead.” She stubbed out her cigarette on the container. “And we don’t owe you shit. If your intel is good, then Tark disappears and we’re square.”

  “Yeah, whatever,” Skiv muttered.

  They left him to his corroding office, his intel uploaded to Kass’s communicator. As they wove through the Rust Veil’s crowded pathways towards the lower sectors, the neon glow faded.

  Kass glanced at Velira. “Military-grade weapons in the hands of street gangs? That’s a massacre waiting to happen. And now we’ve got a grunt to deal with.”

  Velira’s voice was low. “Do you trust him?”

  Kass shook her head. “No, but I don’t think he’s lying about his sister.”

  “We take the core and secure the weapons,” Velira green eyes narrowed.

  “Then Tark dies.”

  ———

  The convoy rolled in right on time, just as Skiv’s intel promised.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  Kass crouched on the depot’s hollowed-out roof, the air reeking of ozone and rust, smoke curling from the cigarette clenched between her teeth. Two trucks, one support vehicle, three enforcer bikes. All tagged with VantaCorp’s sigil—a crimson claw glowing faintly.

  “Seven targets. Minimal armor. Support vehicle’s carrying the core,” Velira’s voice came over the link.

  Kass exhaled. “You want clean or loud?”

  “You’re already here. Loud is inevitable.”

  “You know me so well, fangs.”

  “Don’t call me fangs.”

  She pulled her sidearm and spat out the cigarette. Then she dropped onto the first truck, shock boots hissing as she cratered the hood. The windshield exploded on impact; three piercing rounds punched through the driver’s cheap carbon-weave armor.

  “Should’ve sprung for carbonium-fiber, asshole.”

  Her boots launched her from the vehicle as it swerved, crashing into the depot wall.

  Alarms. Shouts. The support vehicle’s driver hit the gas instead of the brakes.

  Velira intercepted the fleeing truck with inhuman speed, springing onto the cab. She punched through the window, unsheathed her claws and found the gap between the driver’s helmet and collar. The vehicle coasted to a stop as she stepped gracefully onto the ground.

  With her free hand, Kass pulled her shock baton and cracked it across an enforcer’s jaw; then swung her sidearm around and put three rounds into his squadmate mid-turn. The final soldier bolted for the bikes.

  Velira appeared in his path, pale and terrifying. He spun back around, into Kass’s iron sights.

  “You signed on with VantaCorp,” Kass steadied her weapon. “They pay you in credits or spine implants?”

  “I’m just doing my job—!”

  “Same.” Kass pulled the trigger.

  The yard went still with the echo of that last gunshot. Velira moved toward the support vehicle while Kass automatically swept the perimeter.

  Velira ripped the rear door off its hinges. “The core is still intact.”

  “Good. I’m not good enough to recover data from a damaged core and we sure as hell can’t afford someone who is.”

  Kass approached, already reaching for her breach kit as Velira silently stepped aside to make room.

  They didn’t speak while Kass worked on the containment seal. Velira stood motionless, but Kass could feel her awareness. Something caught Velira’s attention from the depot’s far end, and she melted into the darkness.

  A scream--cut off abruptly.

  “Clear,” Velira’s voice came through the comm.

  “Got the core.” Kass pulled the datacore free, undamaged.

  “Let’s vanish.”

  ———

  Back at the safehouse, the familiar scent of solder and fried circuit boards welcomed them—same as it always did after Kass had spent the day tinkering.

  She tossed the core onto the table.

  “Tomorrow, we crack this thing, and we deal with Tark.”

  She flopped onto the cracked vinyl couch, her shock boots hitting the floor with twin thuds. She let out a long breath, then a grin broke through.

  “Holy shit, these shock boots worked better than I thought!” Kass laughed, flexing her ankles. “Usually when I rig something together, it explodes in my face. Nice to have it blow up in someone else’s for once.”

  Velira had already poured two glasses of synthetic whiskey from the bottle they kept on the windowsill, and handed one to Kass.

  “You have a certain knack for destruction. Still not convinced they’re entirely safe.”

  “Oh, they’re not. Two percent chance of blowing out both kneecaps every time I land.” Kass held up two fingers, accepting the drink. “That’s the thrill.”

  “Neat. Just how you like it,” Velira smirked, settling into the chair across from her, “the booze, not the job.”

  “Tell me you felt that. The way they moved, like they didn’t expect to bleed.”

  “They always forget,” Velira watched the city through the window. “Until someone reminds them.”

  “That what we are, then? A reminder?”

  Velira was quiet for a moment. “No. We’re the consequence.”

  Kass laughed low in her throat, the sound rough but real. The silence that followed was the good kind—an understanding forged in blood and fire.

  Then her communicator chimed, breaking the silence. She checked the message, and excitement flickered across her face. She stood and moved to the door, stepping into the hallway. A moment later she returned carrying a wrapped bundle, failing to look casual about it.

  “You ever get tired of ripping people apart with your bare hands?”

  Velira blinked. “No.”

  “Figures.” Kass set the bundle on the workbench. “Still… thought maybe you’d appreciate an upgrade.”

  Velira approached slowly, eyeing the package with curiosity.

  “So I had these made. Didn’t forge them myself—not one of my many talents—but I did design them.” Kass unwrapped the cloth. “Had a friend at one of the foundries owe me a favor.”

  Inside sat two heavy black daggers. Matte and uneven, with no edge to speak of—just thin spikes tapering to vicious points.

  “Carbonium and synthetic steel alloy,” Kass said, watching Velira’s reaction. “Can’t make an edge worth shit, but that tip’ll punch through anything short of high-tier Spire exo-plate. I figured you don’t need finesse, just the end result.”

  Velira picked up one, weighing it in her hand. Her grip molded to it naturally.

  “This design,” she murmured. “It reminds me of something from before. An ancient dagger—thin, made for piercing armor. No edge. Just a point.”

  She turned it slowly. “A stiletto.”

  “Damn,” Kass raised an eyebrow. “That’s way classier than ‘Armor Punchers.’”

  A smile flashed across Velira’s face. The daggers looked brutal against her pale hands. “They’re perfect.”

  “Good. Because they’re the last thing a lot of people are gonna see.”

  Velira tucked the daggers into her coat. “Thank you.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Kass said, quieter now. “You know, if anyone deserves a pair of murder-needles, it’s you.”

  Velira’s green eyes lingered on Kass for a moment.

  “Twin blades.” She murmured.

  Kass met her eyes. “Forged for the same war.”