No one gave me answers, at least not at first. The Kittens had other matters to attend to. They were angry and had plenty of adrenaline roaring in their veins.

  So, was it really any surprise that their swift retaliation was a thing of both beauty and ferocity?

  Bullets were used like they didn’t cost a thing. Once the Zerx remnants started to pull out, some of the Kittens organized a counteroffensive.

  Garren was in the lead. The big man charged out of the HQ following a line of our own borgs with riot shields. I was shocked to spy an old-fashioned two hander sword in the gang leader’s hands. At least, until the blade began to vibrate and its edges started glowing red-hot.

  A thermal weapon. Somewhat crude, if I wasn’t mistaken, but a thermal weapon nonetheless.

  My theory was proven correct when Garren stepped up to one of the Zerx barricades and cleaved right through it. The blade went through the steel like a hot knife through butter, and the body of the Zerx behind it didn’t fare any better.

  I was just as shocked to then see Garren grip the barrier by one of its incredibly hot edges where his sword had cut through. Lifting it, he hurled the damn thing with enough strength to make it bury itself in the back of a fleeing Zerx.

  The secret behind that little trick was revealed when he flexed his hand afterwards and I spied some melting synth skin stretched over metal. Cybernetics, then. Cybernetics of a high enough quality to masquerade convincingly as natural limbs, too.

  Either crime really did pay exceptionally well, or Garren had been very important before he decided to set up in the slums and start the Red Lions.

  I had just enough energy to narrate the events going on outside to the gang members stuck in the room with me, to much cheering and support. Mela did grumble about how she’d told me to rest, but she didn’t really press the issue.

  Ravs found me not long after I watched the Kittens dispatch the last of the Zerx. The medic gave me a couple painkillers, squinted at my eyes a bunch, then shrugged and told me I’d need to see a ripper if I wanted to get them properly checked out. Preferably Torn, since the ripper was apparently the best the Kittens had.

  Ironically, I found myself wishing I could go visit Glim. Sure, there was always a risk he might decide he was through with me and harvest my organs, but his weird extra limbs were preferable to the freak show that was Torn’s eyes.

  But did I really need to see a ripper at all? I was feeling a ton better already. Even the sluggishness that had briefly plagued my eyes’ functionality was fading.

  I opted to put off the doctor’s visit.

  Instead, I rested, sitting in the same spot I’d occupied through most of the fight. I only stirred when I saw the Kittens, led by Garren, drive one of the Zerx vehicles closer to the HQ, then shuffle a roughly human-shaped bundle out of it.

  For some reason, I felt an intense burst of curiosity wash over me at the sight.

  “Come on, something interesting’s happening down there,” I mumbled at Mela, only swaying a little when I got to my feet.

  She scowled at me, but she was clearly just as curious as I was. The two of us piled onto the elevator and set it to the ground floor.

  We just missed the excitement. One of the Kittens lingering inside the ruined space directed us down to the basement and Torn’s section of the clinic. Apparently, Garren had something he wanted the ripper to check out, so everyone had piled on down there.

  The sight of the bottom floor did dampen our excitement and curiosity a little before we headed to the basement. Compared to the number of bodies respectfully laid out in a corner of our room upstairs, the ground floor was a slaughter.

  There were far too many human bits all over the place. The Zerx bodies alone made up a whole pile. The smell was such that I thought I’d never want to eat again. Piss, much worse kinds of human waste, coppery blood, and an underlying stench of scorched meat all mixed together into an olfactory assault of altogether unholy proportions.

  When we final made our way down to Tron’s clinic, we were desperate for anything to take our minds off of that.

  “What happened, boss? Little scout here says ya had some excitement going on at ground level.” Mela tried to butt into things with her usual cheerfulness, but her grin was brittle and there was a tremulous edge to her voice.

  Garren staunchly ignored both, offering us a tense smile. “Scout? And yes, that’s about right. We found who we think was the Zerx runner. Fucker just about had us there by the end. We found Mort passed out in his setup. We managed to wake him up, but he’d apparently only had time to jack out before the enemy runner burned him out. He’s not in a good way, but he’ll make it. Our friend here, however…”

  He motioned at the runner who was most likely responsible for the attack, currently laid out on Torn’s operating chair.

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Most of him was perfectly intact. He was even in that silly full body suit that runners always wore on shows. It looked clean and spotless, a far cry from Mort’s own gear. His face, though…

  That was a thing of nightmares.

  His muscles were frozen in a rictus of shock and pure terror. His eyes has been clawed out, deeply. It almost looked like someone had tried to get at his brain through the fleshy orbs that just happened to be in the way. Tracks of blood and all sorts of other matter stained his cheeks.

  Even more horrifying were his hands. The blood and bits of viscera stuck to his fingers and under his nails clearly suggested the man had killed himself.

  Torn was humming around him with an array of tools and scanners. His concentration was so intense, he actually missed Garren’s first three attempts to catch his attention. It was only when the big man shouted his name that the ripper snapped out it.

  He cleared his throat sheepishly. “Repeat that?”

  “I said, can you tell us why this happened?” Garren growled. “He was winning. Mort was out. What the fuck made him decide he wanted to remove his own brain so much?”

  The ripper shrugged. “As far as I can tell… nothing. I can detect incredibly high levels of adrenaline and associated hormones in his system, which does suggest he was under enough duress for his heart to pop if the condition had persisted. But as for why he’d kill himself? I have no more idea than you do.”

  “Well that’s… not great. Is there any chance whatever happened to him might happen to us?”

  The look of pure disdain Torn shot Garren was a thing worth immortalizing for future generations to ponder.

  “I’ve detected no noticeable signs of a memetic hazard. Most tellingly, the fact that we’re not all clawing out our own eyes as we speak. So, no. It’s unlikely that whatever happened to this runner is contagious. Faulty equipment would be my best bet, since you said his entire setup was fried. He probably wasn’t ready to handle the strain it took for him to support a hack this widespread and powerful, especially off of whatever nonsense he’d managed to scrap together and stuff inside a van.”

  Everyone relaxed a little, though the mere mention of a memetic hazard had put us all on edge. Those were not something to joke about. But then again, they were incredibly rare and petered out quickly on a world like ours. Not to mention they wouldn’t be much of an issue inside the slums of all places, what with our general lack of cybernetics and direct net connectivity.

  Still, no one liked to think about a mental plague that could twist normal people into any number of different abominations. Not abominations of flesh, perhaps, but abominations all the same.

  “Good. That’s good. I’m also happy to see you two are fine,” Garren said belatedly, glancing at me and Mela. “This was no place for a kid. And your brother’s gonna be pissed enough already that he missed this shit. Would be way worse if I had to tell him his baby sister got killed on my watch.”

  Garren grinned as Mela sputtered, and some of the tension drained out of the room. At least until Mela rallied and pointed an accusing finger at me.

  “We’re not all fine. This guy passed out on me and went into some kinda seizure. I wanted to have ya check him out, Doc.”

  “I’m fine! It was just because of my eyes! I think the runner got ’em before he, er, expired,” I protested, but Torn was already pulling me into another chair. Less because he was worried about me, I’d wager, and more because he didn’t want to miss the chance to inspect my cybernetics.

  To my surprise, Garren came to my defense. “He’s got a point. I went into a spasm too, and my vision cut out.”

  “Yes, well, didja bleed from your eyes, too? Because he did,” Mela snapped.

  That shut Garren up. His own eyes widened as he stared at mine, analyzing the traces of blood on my cheeks.

  “Erm, maybe he took it worse because he’s so young?” he offered up weakly, but his heart wasn’t in it.

  Still, while Torn prodded at me, I couldn’t help wondering why Garren was sticking up for me at all. I narrowed my eyes at the gang leader while he was looking at Mela, but other than a slightly stiff posture, I couldn’t glean anything.

  “There is nothing physically wrong with him,” Torn declared. “Some light irritation due to heat, likely when his eyes were getting hacked. This does suggest a higher level of cybersecurity than I’d expect to see in the skull of a street rat, but he’s otherwise fine. His eyes are undamaged and fully functional.”

  With that, I was ushered out of the chair and out of the room as well. There were plenty of wounded people for Torn to tend to, apparently. He couldn’t waste time on perfectly functional ignoramuses.

  Not his exact words, but it was heavily implied.

  “Well, that’s that.” Garren brushed his fingers through his hair. He was very pointedly not looking at Mela when he spoke next. “Look, kid, you did well. Maybe not with direct combat and all, but from what people were telling me, you kept it together and supported our guys when it counted.”

  Mela glared at him, but I just blinked.

  What is he saying?

  “So, the thing is,” the gang leader bulldozed on, shooting me a wry grin, “I’d be open to accepting you on a permanent basis. Fuck if we didn’t lose enough good men and woman today to need fresh blood.”

  “Ya can’t be fucking serious! Look at ‘im! He’s so fucking skinny he might keel over if you give him a gun too large!”

  Mela broke into a tirade, but I could barely hear her.

  I was being offered a spot in the Kittens. Me. Street rat extraordinaire.

  Kittens didn’t just recruit rabble, like most other gangs did. You had to actually contribute something for them to want you.

  And Garren wanted me.

  Though I’d always hated the idea of joining a gang, though I knew it would complicate my life in a million different ways… well. I’d just gotten a ton of proof that going at it alone was likely to get me killed eventually. The slums were teeming with chaos, and whether people knew it or not, it was centered on me. If whoever I’d stolen from ever got close to finding me…

  “I’m in,” I said loudly, drawing the eyes of both Garren and Mela. Garren looked pleased. Mela looked more than a little pissed.

  “We’re happy to have you!” Garren boomed before Mela could get a word in. We’ll need to put some meat on those bones of yours, and you’ll need to learn how to actually shoot, but… for now, just get some rest. There’s plenty of cleanup to do, and no one’s going anywhere until we’re sure it’s safe out there. Should only take a couple days, but better safe than sorry. Zerx have a habit of lingering even when they’re beat.”

  I nodded eagerly, not at all ready to venture outside any time soon. I’d need to come up with some excuse and then message Catill, but that was preferable to running across pissed off gangers. I could just tell him the truth, anyway: war in the streets, chaos all over the place. Not even the old codger would want me to brave that just for work.

  I was just starting to feel properly hopeful about my future when Mela’s hand clamped down on my shoulder. I looked up into a decidedly fanged grin.

  “A little Kitten now, eh? Fine. We’ll get ya ready to claw up the streets, then.”

  Oh, that doesn’t sound good at all.