They led me down a corridor past the stockroom for the bar and a break area where a few escorts lounged on a couch chatting through a shared cigarette. We passed under several cameras through a steel security door that was only marked with the engraving of a large Atlas moth. Another hallway, this one only wide enough to walk single file between thick glass wall cases full of guns. There were enough weapons here to arm a small militia.

  We reached a dark office, quietly cut off from the club. Monitors covered the walls, each showing a different view of the club. Every inch was covered, even the room we now stood in. I looked down at the desk which was littered with plastic toys, dolls and figurines spread through the clutter..

  I studied the figure as they crossed the room, poking at different monitor views before flopping into the rolling chair, legs up to let the chair roll and spin playfully with the momentum. Green hair spilled from a messy top ponytail over their olive skin. They were short, wiry, always moving just like their glowing eyes flicking between the monitors.

  “That guy has been nursing the same drink for two hours. Probably got stood up again.” They said, pointing at one of the screens while pulling off their over-sized puffy jacket and tossing it at a rack in the corner, groaning as it hit the floor instead.

  “Oh, this one here? In the out-of-season green jacket… she steals earrings when she kisses. Got two sets already tonight!” they grinned tapping at another screen.

  I was having a hard time reading them. I was in sensory overload in this room with the constant stream of input from all around. I took a breath and started trying to filter things down to a manageable level. I couldn’t let this freak get the better of me. A holo console bloomed over their lap. They shifted feeds, eyes darting as they grinned and spit out colorful gossip.

  I started picking up on a pattern, there was a deliberate flow to their actions. They would find a screen, check my face, look back and make a comment, and then check my face for a reaction. I forced my expression flat and scanned the rest of the room, noticing moth motifs stamped into everyday items.

  “So… I’ve only heard whispers of the fixer that owns this place. I’m guessing that makes you Moth?” I spoke finally, looking over the items on the desk once more.

  “That doesn’t make me Moth. I made me Moth. I flutter in the dark looking for the brightest lights.” they chortled, but the grin never reached their eyes.

  They sniffed loudly and theatrically. “You don’t smell like a rat, you smell like one of my girls, though. One with pretty eyes.”

  I tensed, there was more to Moth than met the eyes. They turned their gaze back to the screens, always multitasking. I could feel goosebumps forming on my arms under my jacket.

  “Once upon a time,” Moth said, their voice pitching up and down like a broken dial, “there was a man who liked to fish. He impaled a worm on a hook, dropped it into the water, and waited for a bite. Catching the fish would kill it… unless he threw it back.”

  I let my eyes fall back to the desk, realizing they hadn’t touched it since we entered. They seemed to be avoiding it on purpose.

  “One day, the man caught a fish. Quick snap, out of the water. Not big enough, so he dropped it back. Then—BANG!” They clapped their hands, sharp enough to make me jump.

  Moth stilled, watching me study the toys on the desk. On one end, a rabbit crouched beneath a makeshift bridge of books and a ruler. Across from it, a rubber rat sat in the open clearing. Between them, a pile of junk hid whatever else had been arranged.

  “Kind of overkill, don’t you think?” Moth asked.

  “Shooting the fish you already caught? I’d say so.” I lifted my eyes just in time to catch theirs flick away.

  “I don’t even like fish. Tastes too… fishy.” Moth grinned.

  They flicked away the console and leaned back in the chair. Their grin stayed in place, but the eyes were different now, sharper, focused only on me for the first time since the bar.

  “Most nights, I can easily tell who is hunting who. The hustlers, the lovers, the killers. Patterns stand out. Found a new pattern tonight, but I think I’m missing a piece.” They tiled their head expectantly at me.

  I remained quiet, still looking over the desk. Not far from the lone rat was a covered box hidden behind a pile of blocks and candy wrappers. The box contained several more plastic rats. Moth was feeding me information, I needed to figure out the price tag.

  “First Kaela Draven, and now NyxVyxn. Two professionals, sniffing after the same bland little thief? Makes me curious.” They continued, filling the silence.

  “Curious enough to wonder what’s really on the line. Two mercs, each with a bit of rep for wet work, showing up at the same time on the same trail is too juicy!” they laughed.

  I craned my neck a little to see what sat between the rat and rabbit. A comically large toy gun, the kind that made fake laser noises when you pulled the trigger, was aimed directly at me.

  “I suspect you know what we’re after already. Gig is to recover stolen tech. Nothing out of the ordinary for Peachveil, or the Ash.” I replied bluntly.

  “Ordinary indeed, brings us back to the two. What’s the tech? Something that’s going to level the city in the wrong hands?” their voice fluttered with intrigue.

  “Classified, but likely not that dangerous. Client just wants their property back and decided to pay double to make sure they get it.” I offered.

  “Hmm. Paying twice for the same biscuit? Curious as well. Rats don’t pay double. They pay half when they think they can get away with it, but never double.”

  The nudged the desk with their knee, and I watched as a small doll-sized luggage fell next to the rabbit.

  “Rabbit’s running? Headed out of town.” I asked

  If he got out of the city it would complicate things. Moth frowned, I hadn’t landed that one.

  “Redundancy is telling. Sometimes there’s baggage.” They said, picking up the toy gun and pulling the trigger with a quick jerk.

  I stared at the scene again, ignoring the obnoxious sound of the toy over Moth’s laughter. There were layers here. I knew the scene: an ambush. Moth was hinting there was more to it, something even I hadn’t caught.

  “Time’s up!” Moth announced loudly, raking the toys off the table with a sweep of their arm.

  I jumped again at the sudden action, half expecting them to come across the table at me, but they just reclined in the chair and gestured towards the door. I shook it off, and stood ready to get out of this twisted little production. Something flew over my shoulder into the hallway as I walked, and clanged on the hard floor. I glanced down at it as I approached where it landed. A rusty fishhook sat on the ground, heavy with implications. I didn’t need Moth’s riddles to know Jared wasn’t long for this world — but I couldn’t shake the sense there was another layer I wasn’t seeing yet.

  I almost left it behind, but then I saw the paper tied to the hook. I bent and scooped it up, careful not to jab myself. I unfurled the tiny scroll as I walked. Coordinates. I was on the hook now, I realized. I just hoped I wasn’t getting shot when they released me back into the water.

  ———————————————————————————

  Back outside the club, the sweet smell of the mood fog was replaced by the rot and charred odor of the Ash. I knelt down, double knotting the laces on my boots, and then made sure to stretch in preparation. I had a lot of ground to cover, and needed to move fast. I worried that Moth’s last exclamation wasn’t entirely meant for me. I pulled a cloth bandana from my jacket pocket to cover my face with while I ran, to help filter the air.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  I loaded the coordinates into my HUD and started putting boot to pavement in a steady but quick pace. Without any interruptions it would take about thirty minutes, but there was no way it would go that smoothly. I needed to pass through the small city hub around the flicker and then dip back into the curtain where I would probably have to dodge a variety of bullshit. I also had to be careful not to bolt out into an active or budding firefight.

  I turned on my scanners and let a small stream of information run as my system flagged any and all movement or sounds in the immediate vicinity. Dogs barked, gunfire in the distance, glass bottle breaking in the alley ways. It was already a long list and I had to be mindful enough to not ignore it all while running but not focus on it and lose momentum. I leapt over a barrier and kept my footing through some loose garbage.

  I paced myself as I moved deeper into unsteady paths. I planned to run in five to ten minute bursts if I didn’t need to be quiet, and then slow down to keep my stamina up before starting again. I watched the corporate security drones floating over the top of the curtain. Someone threw a rock at one from the shadows, and it answered with a barrage of bullets. Typical corpo response, cheaper to waste a life than replace a lens.

  An explosion echoed from further away, but I felt the rumble in the pavement under my boots. My HUD flashed a red alert a second slower that I would have liked. A screech of twisting metal cut through the night and I looked up just in time to see the portion of sidewalk with the lamp post above me peel away. The whole thing tilted, wires tearing loose one by one until they snapped like whips, showering sparks across the street. The stink of ozone filled my nose, sharp enough to make my eyes water.

  I dropped low and committed, throwing myself into a slide across the filthy concrete. My jacket snagged on scattered glass as I tucked my knees, sparks rained down close enough to singe. A live cable snapped past my ear with a hiss, and the post crashed behind me with a boom that rattled my teeth. For a heartbeat, the whole street lit up white-blue, every shadow etched in razor lines. I rolled onto my feet on the other side, lungs burning, a bitter taste of copper in my mouth. My pulse quickened, then steadied as I pushed back into pace. The Ash wasn’t going to make it easy but if the sector wanted me dead tonight, it would have to work harder.

  I kept moving, recovering my speed and trying to adjust the sensors on my scanners to buy a little more time if something like that happened again. I glanced ahead and slowed, realizing I was approaching open ground. Clearings were dangerous, easy to set traps or lay an ambush. It was quiet, which warranted concern. I slid against the wall of the nearby building and came to a stop at the edge so I could get a better look.

  I crouched low and slowly peered around the corner into the clearing. Rubble littered the ground around the remains of what might have been some kind of fountain or roundabout. A decent crater filled the area where it had been, whatever it was. I scanned the clearing, but nothing flagged, a concern nonetheless. A few rats knocked over a trashcan on the far side of the clearing and I held my breath anticipating a reaction.

  There were too many hiding spots where the rubble formed low walls near open buildings, plenty of cover for anyone laying in wait. I scanned again, looking for any signs of life. The scan still turned up flat, no sound, no heat spikes. That didn’t put me at ease, if anything it made the hairs on my neck prickle. A silent Ash was never a safe Ash.

  I crouched and stepped out from my hiding spot, studying the crater’s edge. A few broken pipes trickled water down into the loose soil. The edges were charred, but it was fading. Whatever happened here was a few months old at least. I took a breath, caught my footing and dashed across the remaining distance in a quick low sprint. No gunfire, no ambush, but just as I reached the other side and checked back my HUD caught a glimpse of something at the edge of my field of vision, too quick to tag. I most likely had a tail.

  I was trained to operate in situations such as this, and there were a few ways to shake a pursuing target. I altered my course, it would be easier to confirm and possibly gain line of sight if I doubled back a bit before returning. I dipped down and alley, looking for a way to gain some altitude as I circled around to the other end of the clearing. I tried to boost my sound sensors, listening for steps as I reached the far side. I scrambled up some rumble, careful not to lose my footing, and headed back to where I entered the clearing before, but this time on the second floor of one of the blasted out buildings. Nothing.

  I waited for a bit, and then found a gap small enough that I could leap to an adjacent building and complete the loop around the clearing. I plotted a path through a few buildings, and took some time to stop and listen between sprints. I could hear footsteps slightly out of sync with my own, but they were quick to stop anytime I did. It could be an echo, but it didn’t quite have my rhythm. I paused to think how I would act if I were the one stalking.

  Moving through the ash took a toll on the body. The ground crunched under boots with an ever present threat of falling in or being buried from above. The air quality was low, and without filters your lungs would burn more quickly. I would wait for longer bursts of a sprint, and then move trying to cover more ground when the target is feeling the strongest effects. I tried breaking up my sprints more, listening to catch the steps but I was starting to question if I was hearing anything other than bouncing reverberations of my own boots in the haggard terrain.

  I slowed my pace, letting the silence close around me. The Ash had a way of swallowing sound, turning every scrape of boot leather into something foreign. My breath rasped under the cloth mask, hot against my skin and drying out my tongue. For a moment I was convinced the sector itself was holding its breath with me.

  My HUD pinged the coordinates again, faint lines on the map overlay nudging me forward. I wasn’t far, but not as close as I’d like. I strained my ears one last time, but there was nothing; no footsteps, no crunch, not even the faint echo I’d been chasing. Either the tail had vanished or I’d imagined it all. I shook it off, and resumed my mission. My unease was growing about what I would find when I got there.

  I moved away from the clearing as quickly as I could, while managing the effects the sector was having on my body. My muscles burned, and grime filled sweat stains were forming everywhere I had exposed flesh. A pack of wild dogs barked loudly a few streets over, but seemed to be occupied with something else. Gang tags continued to litter the surface, though marks for the Cinder Rats started to be the most prevalent.

  I moved in and out of decaying buildings, collapsed roadways, and broken down vehicles covered in rubble. I would periodically pick up a hint of someone or something moving nearby but not close enough to be sure. If I was still being followed, I’d have to deal with it when I reached the coordinates. I was only about a hundred yards away now, though the path was choked with rubbled.

  A small glow caught my eye, flames on a small pile of trash. A few cigarette butts sat nearby, likely catching the trash by accident. I glanced around and realized the dust here had recently been disturbed. A broken down bus stop terminal stood nearby and it looked as if someone had tried to conceal it with tarps and debris. It was deliberately built to overlook the direction of where I was headed. The tarp flapped free and I could see a handful of footprints in the dust.

  “Fuck.” I muttered under my mask.

  I crouched and tried to determine how many there had been. I scanned at least five, maybe more. There was another tarp covered frame a little further up, maybe from an old, burnt out van. I poked my head into the bus stop, looking for further clues. A few beer and water bottles lay tipped over as if dropped in a rush between some candy wrappers and a pack of cigs. They had been waiting for a while, ambush pure an simple as I had expected.

  I moved to the next hiding spot, and the story was much the same. Scrambling footprints exiting the frame, another three or four sets of combat boots by the look of the tread. I moved low and fast up the alleyway, following the trail over a cement barricade leading to a small clearing. The coordinates blinked, indicating I had arrived as I took in the scene before me.

  Spent bullet casings glittered across the ground like scattered teeth, some crushed into the ground by panicked boots. The wall to my left was pocked with fresh holes, plaster still flaking down in the dust. A slightly rusted knife lay to one side, dropped in the chaos. I stepped over the wall, and almost stepped onto a dead body.

  I knelt down and rolled the body where I could see the face. One eye was missing, a solid gunshot wound dripping gore onto the street as the head flopped over. Jared must have caught sight of the ambushers as they came running and managed to take this one down. Sloppy thief or not, Jared seemed to have decent aim. I suspected it wasn’t enough to save him from their numbers though.

  Further ahead I could see an arc of still wet blood in the dirt, a blade had made a nasty cut in someone. Beyond, the trail continued. A spatter of blood against the wall marking the alleys exit, thin at first then heavier as if a body had collided with the corner. A crimson hand smeared where someone had stumbled. Broken glass and bullet casings littered the way forward, holes speckling the walls where the path crossed another alley.

  Another body collapsed in a pile of trash, blood pooling heavily beneath them. Another Rat, two holes in their chest, one in the leg. I followed the signs of the chase under where one of the buildings had leaned over into the other, leaving a low area to slide under that was soaked in blood and shuffle marks of pursuit. A busted datapad lay nearby, screen spider-webbed and smoke trailing from a burst battery.

  I kept my pace, though I already knew what I was going to find. The smell of gore and bile mixed with fresh spray paint and gunpowder. A few more bodies lined the stretch of alley ahead of me, and I could make out where the path led to a dead end. Jared must have managed to make a stand here, but as I ducked under a length of grimy, loose hanging plastic my suspicions were confirmed.

  Blood ran in a stream down the far wall, leaking from the horrid sight. Jared Bonn, the would be corpo thief, hung skewered on a rusty patch of exposed rebar that jutted like jagged fangs from the broken concrete. He hung about two feet off the ground, arms slack at his side, clothes soaked with congealing blood. His eyes were missing, as was the large black case containing the prototype weapon I needed to recover. A crude circular eye was traced in blood on the wall beside the body., this wasn’t just an ambush, it was a message.

  A sharp whistle cut through the behind me. I extended the claws from my clenching right fist as I spun to face the source. Kaela strolled into view, gun drawn but relaxed, amber eyes glinting as she scanned the scene.

  “Wow, Nyx. Prettiest one in the room again. Twice in one night.” She smirked, pausing on the edge of the alley to gesture at Jared’s body with her gun. “Let me guess: the package is already gone.”

  I turned back to the scene and nodded. My claws retracted with a click and a sigh. It was going to be a long night.

  “Well,” Kaela said, holstering her gun and stepping in beside me, “let’s see if the Rats left us any cheese.”