Vicky had forgotten just how loud nightclubs could be and how frustrating it was to navigate through a crowd engulfed in darkness, with only zigzagging flashes of multicolored lights as the sole source of illumination.

  What she would’ve loved to forget was the stifling heat inside.

  Still, moving through B-Crush brought back memories of old times, and neither the urgency of her mission nor the clumsy attempts at flirting from others could erase that hint of nostalgia from her face.

  One day, you might get back to this, dear, she thought.

  It felt like a lifetime had passed since her last time in a club, with no obligations and no sense of duty hanging over her.

  Sneaking in through the back door had been easy; with a jetpack, getting in through open courtyards didn’t take much strategy. Now came the hard part: finding the suspect.

  She checked the computer on her left Auriga wrist cuff. Maybe the Eddanian she was looking for, or the others who had followed them from Pannotia, were wearing cuffs just like hers.

  No. There were no lights on the screen indicating another pair of Aurigas nearby.

  Fine, she’d have to rely on her own eyes.

  She made her way across the dance floor, weaving through the crowd. So many faces—too many—all saying the same thing, ‘I’m having a blast!' or ‘I’m so wasted!’

  But the head-on approach had its drawbacks. It would take forever to cover the place, and the enemy could easily slip away in the crowd. She had to find a way to expand her field of vision.

  The ceiling, after the spotlights, was a massive nest of shadows. She found the darkest corner and wedged herself between two beams descending from above, spreading her jetpack wings just enough to cover the silvery aura of the turbines with her back, and lifted herself until she could get a full view of the nightclub.

  Damn! The VIP platform, the walkways… that place was absolutely packed!

  What would her father think of people just out for a good time? Her old man, a natural grouch, would’ve blown up every nightclub on the planet if he could, and if the law allowed it, he’d have done it with everyone inside. Her father didn’t like carefree young people, and she didn’t like him. So why was she thinking about him now?

  She scanned each corner, mentally photographing every face, analyzing them as quickly as a blink. It was an art she had learned in military school, something her father had drilled into her. Did she actually have a reason to thank that stubborn old man?

  She stayed airborne for several minutes. The darkness was unavoidable, leaving a big margin for error in her analysis, but from what she could see, there was no one familiar or likely connected to the enemy in B-Crush. Still…

  ‘For an intelligence officer, you’re surprisingly good at driving,’ they had told her long ago. And every time she carried out a task like this, that remark was there, stuck in her memory, poking at her insecurities and whispering in her ear that, for one reason or another, she wouldn’t succeed in her mission—and damn, did she hate it!

  She descended and came face-to-face with a stranger who’d seen her flying—a skinny guy who looked at her just as he was about to pop a couple of colorful pills into his mouth.

  “Forget it, dear,” she told him. “That won’t take you this high.”

  Determined to continue her mission outside B-Crush, Vicky headed for the exit. She brought her wrist to her lips and spoke into her communicator:

  “Juzo, I’m leaving the club. Didn’t find anyone.” She waited for a response that didn’t come. “Juzo, do you copy?” She raised the cuff to her ear in case the noise had drowned out her partner’s voice, but nothing. “Juzo! Are you there?”

  She grew uneasy. Her Auriga still had some battery, so the radio should be fine; her partner should have heard her. Something had happened.

  “Too late for your friend,” said a woman’s voice in her ear as someone grabbed her arm.

  She remembered what Adam had said about how he’d gotten that scratch on his arm, just as an electric tingle touched the back of her neck.

  Knowing she only had seconds before she passed out, she turned to face her attacker. She saw her—the woman was just as Adam had described: tall and imposing, bald with no eyebrows, violet eyes with a sinister glare cutting through the darkness, large black lips, and long crystal earrings. An Eddanian, no doubt.

  Vicky fought to stay conscious and to do something, anything to defend herself, but it was no use. Darkness took over, snuffing out her senses.

  

  In the dark area of the park, beneath the canopy of leaves formed by the small grove, Adam heard the sirens of the ambulances heading to help the crash victims on the nearby avenue.

  The android firefighters announced their arrival. The loud wails of their trucks grew closer until Adam saw them passing down the street, not too far off—a train of red and yellow lights flashing beyond the trees, rushing toward the accident site.

  Trying to quell the fear clenching his chest and tightening his lungs, Adam looked over at Juzo. He had no choice but to trust that his brother could defend him.

  Though something told him Juzo might not be able to, that things wouldn’t end well.

  Their chase across the city skies might have ended, but the danger was still an open wound. With the android moving towards them in the shadows, the threat of dying mid-flight had only shifted to dying on solid ground. Death was death, after all.

  “Let’s put this fight aside,” Juzo said to the A60.

  “Now you’re trying to reason with it?!” Adam snapped, pointing at the park ranger Cyclops the A60 had destroyed. “That’s how we’ll end up!”

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  A hum came—a hum that grew louder and louder until it became a high-pitched whine, like a jet engine. Jetpacks! Adam realized. That girl Vicky was arriving to back up her partner. He breathed easier. With two Grenadier soldiers against him, the android wouldn’t stand a chance…

  No. It wasn’t the cavalry.

  Two new figures descended from the sky with those chrome wings on their backs, piercing the canopy of leaves as they dropped down behind the A60. Judging by Juzo’s face, these had to be the mercenaries the android had brought along.

  Neither of the two retracted the wings of their jetpacks, even though they were now standing on the ground. With the silver glow from their thrusters lighting up their backs and the shroud of shadows hiding their faces, it was hard to make them out, except for some general features.

  One had a mustache and unruly hair, while the other was tall with such a massive frame that his thrusters seemed on the brink of failure from the strain. Both were wearing what looked like yellow jumpsuits—more like a Cyclops uniform or prison garb than anything anyone would wear by choice—though theirs were as worn-out as the android’s trench coat. The big guy’s suit was so shredded that it had no sleeves left, and what remained of the pants was full of tears.

  From the ends of their jetpack wings, cannons emerged, and Adam felt the last bit of hope drain from him. He reached around Juzo’s waist, ready to grip his brother’s belt if Juzo tried to repeat the last tactic and launch them skyward like some insane human cannonball. Only one of Juzo’s jetpack wings was left; they wouldn’t get far, but at least they could dodge a few shots.

  But Juzo was focused on something else. His gaze moved from the A60 to the mercenaries and back again. He stood with legs spread, arms out, fingers stiff. A soldier, ready for a showdown.

  “Don’t move,” he warned Adam in a low voice.

  There was a flash from the mercenaries’ thrusters, and their cannons fired glowing discs that struck the ground with a hard thud, throwing up earth and grass that spattered the twins.

  Juzo didn’t flinch. Adam was stunned, his heart about to burst.

  Four big craters had opened up in the park’s lawn, just feet away; one had even swallowed the lifeless body of the park keeper android.

  Only a complete novice would miss a shot at such a close range; if those rings of light hadn’t hit them, it was because the mercenaries were only trying to intimidate them. And they’d done a damn good job of it, as far as Adam was concerned.

  Juzo clenched his fingers again, activating the implant in his wrists, creating a glowing Fotia in each hand and firing them. The mercenaries dodged aside, letting the blasts pass by. Assuming those two were only a distraction and that the real threat was the A60, Juzo prepared more grenades.

  “Stay behind me,” he warned Adam again, never taking his eyes off the A60.

  The mercenaries fired a series of laser rings, and Juzo shot back. He clenched his fingers once, twice, formed a sphere of energy, and launched it. And again: clenched his fingers once, twice, formed a sphere of energy, and launched it. This rhythm kept those two at bay, while he stayed wary of the A60, which stood still, watching him with his single eye glowing like a red star, ready to strike at their first slip-up.

  Unfortunately, Juzo made a serious mistake. He underestimated how powerful panic could be and assumed Adam would stay behind him as instructed.

  Seeing the shots come faster and explode closer each time, Adam wanted to step aside, but his legs took over, and suddenly, he found himself leaving the small grove behind, back to his pursuers, crossing the park hills and sprinting toward the street.

  The street had become Adam’s goal.

  He needed to reach it, to jump into the first car that stopped or hide in the first building he could find. It didn’t matter what he’d do next; right now, it was all about running and not stopping—no stopping until he was out of the park and concealed…

  Or until a shot hit his back and ended his life.

  “Get back here, you idiot!” Juzo yelled.

  The A60 turned toward Adam; he had him in his sights, and in seconds, it would have him underfoot. The glow in his eye pulsed as if to say, ‘I’ve got you.’

  Cursing his luck, Juzo deployed the last side of his propulsion unit. He didn’t plan to fly, just to make a leap that would get him out of the wooded area, slipping between the tree branches for camouflage—and hopefully as a shield.

  But first, he needed to clear the two goons blocking his path. He concentrated threads of energy in both hands until Fotias formed, activated his remaining wing—the silver halo sprang out, and the turbine’s whine echoed—then jumped.

  But just as he was about to throw the bombs, something warm trickled from his nose, and the metallic scent filled his nostrils. Blood.

  An overwhelming void flooded his mind, so fast he had no time to react. It was as if someone had turned off every light in the city at once, leaving him in total darkness—a foreign presence in his brain that plunged him into a mental fog, making him forget even his own name for a few seconds.

  Disoriented, Juzo opened his hands, and the Fotias dissolved. The wing’s thrust had propelled him out of the canopy, launching him higher than he’d intended, but he had already lost his trajectory.

  The mustached mercenary activated his wings and went after him. The man, proving he didn’t need his thrusters’ weapons to attack, raised his left hand, clenched his fingers, and formed a Fotia as well. He fired it, reducing Juzo’s thruster to a shower of silver sparks that rained down over the park.

  Without his last wing, Juzo fell from the sky like a bird shot down. He tried to get back up, but he barely managed to kneel. Blood covered his face from the fall and streamed from his nose, the result of something, or someone, invisible in his mind.

  The darkness blinding him began to fade, and despite the urgency of focusing on the A60 and the mercenaries, he sifted through his memories, searching for an explanation for what had just happened. When had he come into contact with Tau radiation? There was a gap in his memory, an evading piece of knowledge.

  He tried to stand, but one of his hands, instead of pushing off the ground, went to the pocket of his jacket and retrieved what was inside. Then he understood. He had walked right into a trap and dragged his brother along.

  Adam recognized Juzo’s groan and regained some control over himself. His sneakers screeched to a halt on the grass. He turned and saw Juzo falling. The only person who could have protected him now lay wounded on the ground, bleeding, and he was partly responsible.

  The buzz of the mercenaries’ thrusters pierced his ears. He didn’t need to look up to know those bastards were above him.

  Rage surged within him, and driven by a courage he hadn’t shown before—or a total lack of common sense fueled by adrenaline—he ran to help his brother. What could he do against two thugs and an android? Nothing but scream. But he couldn’t abandon Juzo, either.

  Two laser shots kicked up dirt and chunks of shattered concrete from the path in front of him; then a third explosion threw him backward. Adam fell on his back, his head striking the ground; small debris stuck to his bare back. Clouds of dirt and dust rained over him. His burst of bravery ended there.

  With his ears ringing and eyes full of dirt, he fought through the dizziness and saw the mercenaries circling around Juzo like hungry vultures, while the android advanced toward him.

  Yes, the Cyclops was coming for him. The end was near.

  The park lights glinted off the metallic baldness of the A60, licked his circuit-filled arms and silicone muscles, his steel legs peeking through the shredded remains of his jumpsuit with each step, and his gleaming feet sinking into the grass. Every limb bore scrapes and dents; that tattered, burn-marked outfit was merely the outer shell of an unknown journey.

  His massive eye pulsed red once more, and his hands opened like the petals of a cybernetic flower. From the left, a long needle, a scalpel, and three surgical forceps of varying thickness and size emerged, while from the right, once again, that long barrel aimed at Adam, warning him that a wrong move could cost him his life.

  Damaged or not, the A60 was ready to complete his mission: to extract that mutant protein and maybe blow his head off in the process.

  Adam gave Juzo one last look, regretting not having spent more time with him. He would have liked to know him better, but it was too late for that.

  He would die on a day that, until that night, had meant parties and fun. He almost wanted to laugh at the irony, but the tingling from the electric discharge had started to bite at his skin like a veil of needles.

  Soon, everything went black.