The Rust Veil hummed like a dying engine, metal groaning under its own weight while rain drummed on corrugated roofs. Late night in the Undercity meant shadows moved with purpose, and the air tasted of rust and broken promises.

  The weapons from the VantaCorp datacore heist were safely stashed—enough assault rifles and armor-piercing rounds to arm a militia. Kass “Riot” Vex was still wiping gun oil from her hands when her communicator chimed.

  Skiv. Again.

  The information broker never stopped working.

  Skiv’s “office” was a mash of scavenged tech crammed into a converted shipping container. Flickering monitors cast sickly light across walls of jury-rigged servers. The door slid open with a mechanical gasp, revealing a cramped space thick with static hums and the smell of overheated electronics.

  Kass entered first, water still dripping from her jacket, hand never far from Drujment’s grip. Velira Nocturne her shadow, pale green eyes sweeping the room.

  Skiv didn’t joke, ask for creds, or even look up right away. He just tapped through three encrypted layers on a glowing console, cybernetic eye twitching in a rhythmic stutter.

  When he finally spoke, his voice was low. Focused.

  “You always go straight to business when it’s about kids. So I’ll skip the bullshit.”

  Kass gave a sharp nod, boots scraping wet metal as she moved closer.

  Velira didn’t speak. She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, gaze locked.

  Skiv tapped a cracked terminal, summoning a jittery overlay.

  “Got a tip from a regular, he’s usually solid. Chatter across three feeds. Signal intercepts, safehouse burn logs, and a shell company moving assets through the Flooded Causeway.”

  The display glowed—heat signatures, convoy routes, timing charts.

  “Red Memory’s pushing a high-value run. Fast, low-profile. It’ll start here,” he pointed to a decommissioned quarantine facility. “That’s where the cargo is now, no telling where they’ll end up.”

  Kass stepped closer, eyes narrowing.

  “You sure?”

  “As sure as I ever get down here,” Skiv’s cybernetic lens pulsed. “Movement patterns match Harrow’s old logistics. His personal ones. Too much overlap to ignore. All this points to human cargo. Probably kids.”

  Velira’s voice cut through the electronic hum. “And they’re moving fast. That’s unusual.”

  “Exactly,” Skiv said. “Fast means desperate. Maybe they got tipped off about a Spire raid or something.”

  Kass pulled back from the terminal, already burning.

  “Send the coordinates. We move before the convoy arrives.”

  She was halfway to the door. Velira pushed off the wall to follow.

  Then Skiv’s voice cracked. “Wait.”

  They stopped. Kass looked back. “What?”

  Skiv rubbed his glitchy tattoo, uneasy now. His cybernetic eye whirred erratically.

  “I don’t know,” he muttered. “Something about this… doesn’t feel right. The intel came too clean. No static, no dead ends—just dropped into my lap, like someone wanted me to find it.”

  “You think it’s a setup?” Kass folded her arms.

  “Could be. Could be anything. Normally I don’t dive down that data-stream. I get the intel, sell it for creds, and move on. That’s the game.”

  “If there are kids, we go. Trap or not.”

  Velira gave a short nod, then turned to Skiv. “Is there any way you can verify this?”

  Skiv nodded slowly. “Heard something. Just a whisper. Vipers are assigned to the facility, and one of them—low-rank, no pull—heard he’s not happy with how Red Memory’s running things. Maybe lost someone. Maybe just done being another gun.”

  “Name?” Kass asked.

  “Nothing solid,” Skiv scratched at his tattoo some more. “Just whispers. But I can find him. I just need time.”

  “How long before they move the kids?”

  “Two days, by these time charts.”

  Kass’s jaw clenched. She was about to shut him down…but Velira laid a hand on her shoulder, voice soft but with an edge. “You have forty-eight hours, Skiv.”

  Silence held. Then a short nod from Kass.

  Skiv let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “Copy that.”

  Kass turned away again, but looked back. “Why, Skiv?”

  He knew what she meant.

  “You two—look, you actually give a damn, no payout, no angle. That just—that doesn’t happen down here. That means something. It’s gotta. And I ain’t gonna be the piece of shit that screws it up.”

  Silence again. Then…

  “Forty-eight hours, then we move.”

  Then the door hissed shut behind them, leaving Skiv alone with his screens, unanswered questions, and the rain still tapping on metal like a clock counting seconds.

  ———

  The rain had stopped, but the Rust Veil still wept from the rusted girders above. Kass paced the narrow alley, shock boots throwing an occasional spark, striking ferrocrete in a steady rhythm that matched her impatience.

  Velira hovered by a support beam, half-swallowed by shadow, watching the approaches, green eyes missing nothing.

  “Fucking hate waiting,” Kass muttered, lighting her cigarette for the third time.

  “The wait is over. He’s here.”

  Footsteps echoed as Skiv emerged from the maze of shipping containers, moving faster than usual.

  “Cutting it close, Skiv,” Kass said, not bothering to hide her irritation.

  “Sorry, the wait’ll be worth it.” He was slightly out of breath. “Found our unhappy Viper. Took time to verify his story, but it checks out.”

  “So what’s his angle?”

  “Better if he tells you himself.” Skiv gestured toward the shadows behind him. “Follow me.”

  He led them deeper into the Rust Veil, weaving between late-night stalls that catered to the kind of crowd that did business after dark. Neon signs buzzed over vendors hawking stims, black-market meds, and weapons with their serial chips wiped clean.

  At a makeshift bar built around an old distribution transformer, a young man sat hunched over a drink that had gone warm. His face carried scars that aged him beyond his years, and the tail of an Iron Viper tattoo crawled up from his collar.

  “Jeks,” Skiv said. “Meet Kass and Velira.”

  The young Viper looked up, wariness etched on his face. Then recognition hit.

  For just a heartbeat, the hardened criminal fell away, leaving behind the wide-eyed kid he should have been… in a different world.

  “You’re her,” he whispered, staring at Kass. “You’re Riot.”

  Ice passed through Kass’s eyes—so brief that only Velira caught it.

  “Riot’s dead,” she said flatly.

  Jeks straightened, street-kid mask sliding back over his face. But his hands still trembled slightly as he reached for his drink.

  “Skiv says you got intel. Why should we trust you?”

  Jeks cleared his throat, voice rough around the edges. “He says you’re the ones who took down Nex Harrow.” He paused, studying Kass’s face for any reaction. When she didn’t give him one, he continued.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  “One of the kids you pulled out of that hellhole…” His voice caught slightly. “Was my little brother. Kael. He was twelve. I lost my shit when he disappeared, and no one could help me. Or would help me. Then a week later he just…comes home. Said a couple of girls rescued him. Skiv says that was you two.”

  The words hung in the air between them. Jeks’s fingers tightened around his glass, knuckles white against the scarred plastic.

  “He’s safe now. As safe as a kid living with his knuckleduster brother can be, I guess. Goes to school, has nightmares sometimes, but he’s alive.” He looked directly at Kass. “Because of you.”

  Velira watched the exchange, sharp eyes reading the currents beneath the surface. Skiv shifted uncomfortably, suddenly finding the bar’s flickering neon very interesting.

  “So when Skiv came asking about Red Memory moving kids again…” Jeks shrugged, but there was nothing casual about it. “Seemed like the universe giving me a chance to balance the scales.”

  Velira glanced at Kass, then spoke. “We don’t have much time. Tell us what you know.”

  ———

  The outer wall of the Aegis Fold Contagion Containment facility loomed, a rust-stained fossil, its curvature half-swallowed by the Undercity’s slow collapse. Shattered floodlights blinked overhead. The air smelled of must, wet ferrocrete, and something that died a long time ago.

  Kass scanned the perimeter. “Maintenance hatch, that’s where I can access the main power grid.”

  Velira, quiet as a shadow and just as dark, “South service vent. Half-collapsed and leaking steam—no patrols near it. If it still connects to the old ventilation ducts, it’ll spit us out just behind corridor 6-B.”

  “It’s almost like they’re sending us an invitation.”

  “Well, it is a trap.” Velira paused. “Why didn’t you let Jeks come along? His knowledge of the facility and the Vipers could have been useful.”

  “I have enough blood on my hands. I don’t need that dumbass kid playing hero and becoming more.”

  The words came out easier than they should have. Normally Kass would’ve shrugged off the question, maybe thrown back some smart-ass comment about him just getting in the way. But here she was, telling Velira the truth like it was the most natural thing in the world. The quiet that followed felt like more of a trap than the one they were walking into.

  Velira studied Kass in the dim light. “He’s older than you were when you started doing this.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m not running a training course on how to make fucked-up kids.” Kass adjusted her grip on Drujment, walls slamming back into place. Therapy session over. The weight of the weapon was a comfort, grounding her in the now.

  The facility’s outer shell groaned in the wind, metal fatigue singing through its bones like a funeral dirge. Security lights swept the compound in lazy arcs, too predictable to be anything but bait.

  “Skiv was right to trust his instincts,” Velira said, breaking the silence.

  “He really saved our asses. And for free. Never would have guessed…”

  “Sometimes humans will surprise you.”

  “Let’s move. Cover me while I get inside that hatch.”

  Kass moved quickly across the open ground, each step calculated to avoid the sweeping security lights. Velira positioned herself against a support strut, tracking the Viper patrol patterns while her enhanced hearing monitored for drones overhead.

  The maintenance hatch surrendered to Kass’s combat knife-turned-prybar easily. She slipped inside, hands working by feel in the darkness. The charges went where Skiv’s schematics had indicated—main power conduits bundled together like arteries. Small, focused explosives that would sever the lines without bringing down half the facility.

  “Charges set,” she whispered into her comm.

  “Clear,” Velira’s voice came back, calm and focused.

  They regrouped at the service vent. The half-collapsed entrance leaked steam in little spirals, but beyond the ventilation ducts stretched into darkness just as Jeks had described.

  The crawl was cramped and stifling. Ancient air recyclers wheezed overhead while pipes dripped condensation that tasted of rust and old disinfectant. But it was uneventful—no patrols, no sensors, just the steady progression through the facility’s mechanical bowels.

  When they reached a junction, Kass pointed.

  “Control room’s through the north passage. I’ll let you know when I’m in position.”

  Velira nodded, eyes reflecting what little light filtered through the vent grates. Like a damn cat.

  “The children?”

  “If they’re here, they’ll be past the corridors. They’ll keep the bait behind the trap.” Kass’s jaw tightened. “We get them out, V. All of them.”

  “All of them,” Velira nodded once.

  The control room was a relic from the facility’s medical days—banks of monitoring equipment now dark and silent. But the backup power systems were where Jeks said they’d be, humming quietly in their housing units.

  Kass found the UV array controls. Everything was ready—one flip and the backup power would die the moment her charges took out the main line.

  “In position,” she said into her comm.

  “Copy. Moving to corridor 6-B now.”

  Kass watched the security feeds on her stolen access terminal. Velira moved through the facility silently, avoiding cameras and motion sensors. She reached the corridor, paused at the threshold.

  The facility held its breath.

  “Ready,” Velira’s voice, calm as still water.

  Kass’s finger hovered over the detonator. “Lights out.”

  Motion sensors triggered the moment Velira stepped into corridor 6-B. Ancient UV arrays came to life with a sound like a death rattle. Banks of sterilization lights began their sweep pattern—washing over Velira…

  For exactly three seconds.

  Then Kass’s charges detonated with muffled thunder that was almost imperceptible inside the facility. Main power died in a cascade of sparks and falling darkness. The UV array sputtered, pulsed once, and went black.

  Emergency lighting kicked in, bathing the corridor in hellish red.

  Velira stood motionless against the blood red light, shoulders square, stilettos in hand, a promise of violence. Wisps of smoke rose from where the UV light had touched her pale skin.

  At the opposite end of the corridor, four figures waited—two synths, cold and deadly, and two Iron Vipers clutching silver-coated chains like lifelines.

  The Vipers looked at each other, then at the dead UV arrays, then at Velira standing in the corridor.

  “Fuck this,” one of them swore, and they both bolted for the exit.

  The synths, one large male and one smaller female, waited with predatory intent—eyes like embers in pale faces, weapons drawn.

  “After you, Akem,” the female motioned with her pistol.

  Akem moved first—shotgun roaring in the confined space, silver buckshot chewing chunks from the wall where Velira had been a heartbeat before. She flowed like darkness against the red light, stilettos singing through the air as she closed the distance.

  Akem unsheathed a silver machete. The female circled wide, pistol tracking Velira’s movements.

  Velira ducked under a machete swing that would have taken her head clean off, driving an elbow into Akem’s ribs hard enough to crack bone. He grunted, pivoted, brought the shotgun around in a brutal arc.

  She caught the barrel, twisted, and the weapon discharged into the ceiling. Sparks rained down like dying stars.

  The female fired—once, twice, three times. Silver-tipped rounds thudded off the walls as Velira spun away from Akem’s follow-up strike. She was faster than them, stronger, but they worked together with practiced efficiency. Every time she pressed an advantage against one, the other forced her back.

  Akem’s eyes burned—not just with rage, but with grief and vengeance. His attacks came with savage intensity.

  Velira bled from a graze across her shoulder, another along her ribs. The female moved with clinical precision, adjusting her position to herd Velira toward more open ground.

  “For Druj,” Akem raised his machete high.

  Then he made his mistake—overextending on a heavy swing that left him exposed for half a second.

  Velira’s stiletto found the gap in his guard, sinking deep into his chest. He roared, swung hard at her. She rolled, dodging the wild attack, and came up on her feet.

  Now she was smiling. Because she knew.

  Kass burst through the doorway with the pistol that had once belonged to Red Druj, now with the Red Memory tags filed off and the word Drujment etched into the slide.

  Akem’s features twisted with recognition and fury. He brought the shotgun around—

  “Happy Drujment Day, motherfucker!”

  Three shots cracked like thunder, blasting through Akem’s skull and burst out the other side in a spray of black blood. He toppled backward, machete clattering across the floor.

  Drujment had spoken.

  The female took one look at her partner’s corpse, then at Kass with the smoking pistol, and made her choice. She bolted for the service corridor, moving with inhuman speed.

  “Oh, hell no,” Kass snarled, engaging her shock boots.

  The electrical systems whined to life, building charge for the jump that would let her catch the fleeing synth. She crouched, muscles coiled—

  The left boot erupted in sparks and white-hot pain.

  Kass screamed as electricity coursed through her leg, dropping her to the floor in convulsions. The smell of burned flesh and fried electronics filled the air. Through the agony, she could hear the synth’s footsteps fading into the distance.

  Velira was beside her in an instant, hands gentle as she tried to assess the damage.

  “Kass—”

  “She’s getting away,” Kass gasped through gritted teeth, trying to stand. “We can’t let her—”

  “She’s gone.” Velira’s voice was soft but final. “And you’re hurt.”

  The corridor fell silent except for the hum of emergency lighting and the faint crackle of damaged electronics.

  They’d won. But the taste of victory was ash, blood, and scorched nerve endings.

  ———

  The safehouse was a cramped smuggler’s den—weak lighting, rust stench, exposed wiring snaking across water-stained walls. Kass slumped on a crate, cutting off her scorched pants to get at the burned flesh beneath. The shock boots lay in a heap nearby, their guts spilled across the floor like a mechanical autopsy.

  And for what?

  Empty holding cells. Dusty floors where frightened children should have huddled together. Nothing but the echo of their own footsteps in sterile rooms that had never held the cargo Red Memory claimed to be moving. The whole thing was a setup. Right from the beginning.

  They’d known it was a trap. Knew there might not have been kids, but still had to be certain.

  Velira stood by the door, silver wounds regenerating slowly, stilettos tucked away, but she remained rigid. Watchful. Her gaze fixed on Kass with quiet intensity that made the air feel thick.

  “You can’t keep doing this,” Velira said, voice low but sharp.

  Kass didn’t look up, focusing on wrapping the DermalNet bandage around her calf. “Doing what? My job? We confirmed there weren’t any kids and took down a synth. Mission accomplished.”

  “Getting hurt.” Velira stepped closer, her usual control slipping. “Every time, Kass. Every fight, you come out bleeding or burned or broken. Those boots—you knew they were faulty.”

  Kass’s hands paused mid-wrap. She met Velira’s gaze, eyes flashing. “And you come out perfect every time. What’s your point? I’m not made of shadows, V. I fight, I bleed—that’s how it works.”

  “That’s not how it has to work!” The words cracked out of Velira like a whip, her hands curling into fists. “You don’t have to throw yourself at every danger like it’s some kind of competition. I can’t—” Her voice caught. “I can’t keep watching you do this to yourself.”

  Kass stood, wincing as her burned calf protested.

  “What do you want from me? To sit back while you play untouchable? I’m not some damsel you need to save, Velira. I’ve been doing this since I was a child—I don’t need a lecture on survival.”

  “Survival?” Velira’s tone went cold. “You call this surviving? You’re one malfunction away from not walking out of a fight, Kass. And I—”

  She stopped. The words hung there, half-formed, too dangerous to finish.

  Kass felt her anger falter, a different emotion rising, but she shoved it down—hard. Walls slammed back up. “I what? Finish the sentence.”

  Velira shook her head, stepping back. Her composure returned, armor sliding into place. “Nothing. Forget it.”

  “Yeah, thought so.” Kass scoffed, turning away to finish the bandage. “Once you start caring about people, they only die on you.”

  She hadn’t meant to say that. Not out loud at least.

  “Let’s stick to the plan—kill the bad guys, don’t die. You don’t get to tell me how to fight, and I don’t get to tell you how to… whatever it is you do.”

  The silence stretched between them, heavy with everything they couldn’t say. Velira watched Kass with an expression carved from stone, but her eyes betrayed something deeper…

  Kass felt it too, buried deep, but she shoved it even deeper, focusing on the burn in her leg instead.

  Some wounds were safer than others.

  “I need a fucking drink,” Kass muttered, grabbing her jacket and limping toward the door. Velira followed, her silence a shadow at Kass’s back. The shock boots lay forgotten on the floor.