From my understanding, Furnace had fallen in with Jupiter in the early days of the latter's criminal organization. He had worked heavily with the man in the past and, likely sensing which way the wind was turning, decided that he was the safer bet to follow instead of the entrenched old crime families of Argent.

  Well, it had certainly paid off for him in the long run. I had no doubt that the man was rich as all hell, and he had a great deal of clout in Argent.

  We weren't meeting Jupiter, sure, but Furnace was a huge deal in his own right.

  He had entered through the rear of the building, arriving by limo as opposed to flying through the air like a burning comet. He cut an imposing figure, even relaxed as he was, adorned in an armoured costume of dark grey plates with orange highlights. The plates clinked and clanked with every step he took.

  Cass was the one to lead him upstairs, a forced grin on her face, and she guided him to the nicest armchair we had on offer. He sank in slowly and got comfortable, but his orange mask covered his face entirely, so it was impossible to tell if he was even remotely happy to be here.

  "Some of you might know me already, but I'll be a gent and introduce myself proper. Call me Furnace," he said, a faint Australian lilt in his voice. He folded his arms, briefly drawing my eyes to the flame patterns that had been etched into his pauldrons. "I was told to congratulate you personally on a job well done. We owe you, smashing up that STING operation. Jupiter feels killing them would have sent a bigger message, but the results are still solid. Cops have 'em in custody, and STING won't dare dip a toe in Argent for a while at least. The only outstanding issue is... that thing."

  All eyes turned to Rover at the back of the room, who was busily and noisily devouring slabs of raw beef in his hands. We had taken to feeding him meat. Cooked, at first, then when he started digging into the supplies and eating them raw to no ill-effect we decided to just let him have the raw stuff.

  "What about him?" I asked.

  "He's STING gear," Furnace said, "might be a danger."

  "Ehhh..." Sam shrugged faintly. "He eats like a pig, but I don't know about that. He does whatever Toymaker wants, but otherwise just sits around."

  Beatrix grinned. "Reminds me of my lola's St Bernard."

  "Listen, if he came from a STING lab then he could be fitted with all manner of trackers, transmitters, or explosives. For your own good, we set up an appointment with Cortador. He handles all manner of tech things for us." He sat upright, the leather creaking under him. "If it's all good, you can keep him. If not, well, we'll have to destroy him."

  I found myself glancing uneasily at the creature. Would I shed any tears if they had to kill him? Probably not, I told myself. I owed him my life, but I barely knew the creature. Still, if we could keep Rover then he'd make for a valuable asset.

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  "That aside," Furnace continued, "Jupiter already has another job lined up for you." He reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out an unremarkable black flash drive.

  Beatrix's arm reached across the room, pulling back a laptop that had been left in the corner. Cassie plugged it in and quickly scrolled to the folder that popped open.

  "Some of you have probably heard of Warmonger in the past. He primarily rules the roost down south in Lux City. But he's had a foothold in Argent for a few years now, try as we might to dislodge him. And his newest venture has made him more of a pain. Open that video there, the file on the top left."

  A video ballooned out to fill the screen, and we gathered around for a better look. It was shaky phone camera footage, depicting a cheering and hollering crowd above a pit-like arena. The lights overhead were thin and spotty, focused solely on the dirt floor of the arena.

  I squinted, trying to discern what lay beyond the chain-link fence that kept the crowd separated from the pit. Eventually the camera regained its focus, and I could see two people squaring up at other sides of the dirt pit. One was a woman whose forearms were two steely blades that glinted in the light overhead. The other was a man with a coiling whip of flame threading up one arm.

  And then they went at each other like rabid dogs, the woman stabbing and slashing while the other man repelled her with focused bursts of flame.

  "Oh," I said. "It's an Apex fight ring."

  "A what?" Greg asked, knitting his brows tight.

  I rolled my eyes a bit. Damned stoner. "It's exactly what it sounds like. An underground arena where Apexes fight each other. Pretty illegal, but they always draw a crowd of folk willing to pony up and watch."

  "It's a blood sport," said Furnace. "And some of the really nasty fight rings have taken to kidnapping Apexes and forcing them to fight, selling vids of the fights as high octane snuff flicks. Jupiter wouldn't consider himself a good man, but he is a principled one. And he doesn't tolerate sick shit like that in his city. I'm inclined to agree with him."

  He reached over, brushed the mouse over an image on the flash drive and opened it. It was a grainy CCTV image of a woman floating above a shattered street, several police cars being blown away from her and crushed into cubes of twisted metal. She was strongly built, wearing a dark brown costume with white gloves and boots, a logo like a targeting reticule positioned on the left side of her chest. Her face was covered by what looked to be a steel plate.

  "Don't think I've ever seen her before," Cassie said, cocking her head like a curious dog.

  "She's something of a rising star in Warmonger's organisation. Calls herself Impact, a Psion from what we can tell. Intel says she's got some kind of telekinetic power, probably a few other tricks. From what we've gathered, she's the one Warmonger has trusted to run the Apex fights in Argent."

  "So... we go in, bust up this fighting ring, nab Impact?" I asked, lifting a brow.

  "Essentially," Furnace said, shrugging. "We'd prefer you bring her in alive, but if you have to kill her to save your own asses... so be it."

  "That's a tall order," I said. But, at that moment, an idea dawned on me. "If... we can do all that, could I ask you a favour?"

  I could feel Cassie's eyes on me, wide and panicked, silently asking 'What the fuck are you doing?' Furnace was not a man to ask such things, but I had to shoot my shot.

  The older man gave me a flat look. "We're a business, not a charity. We don't do favours."

  "Well, in that case... maybe it's a bonus for exemplary performance?"

  That actually got a small laugh of him. Or, at least, a single rasping chuckle. "Well, shit. You made me laugh, so I'll humour you. What do you want?"

  I cleared my throat, trying to phrase this in a calm and reasonable sounding way. "If we do this, can you get us into the Society?" I felt all eyes on me and did my best to maintain a calm and sturdy posture, though the rest of the Devils probably thought I was nuts. I knew it was a tall order, but it was a big step to getting what I actually wanted. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

  "Not something I could do for you. Society doesn't allow entry to the Citadel for just anyone. But I'll run it by Jupiter, see what he makes of it. We like to... reward good performance and all that." He narrowed his eyes and leaned toward me. I held my ground, though I could hear my heartbeat rapidly pulsing in my ears. "But the other end of that is... we don't much tolerate failure. Understand?"

  "Yeah," I said, willing my voice to keep from cracking. "Yeah, I understand."