“Heading back to the city,” Mal said. She blew past an old mailbox that was still upright, its numbers faded to nothing. “War went south. There was an evacuation.”

  “No shit,” Nadia said. Some of the students nearby turned to shush her and she flipped them off. “I’ve seen some of the reports. Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” Mal lied. She turned the bike onto an old stretch of road and had to swerve back and forth to avoid the large potholes. Small nomad symbols were etched on the nearby flat surfaces that indicated things she couldn’t understand. “Listen, I need you to do me a favor. I want to switch sides. Can you set up a meeting between me and ZenTech somewhere neutral? Tell them I’ve got intel to trade.”

  “Are you fucking serious?” she asked. Nadia stood from her seat, threw her bag over her shoulder, and rushed out of the auditorium. The professor called out to her, but she ignored it, and she didn’t stop when she reached the hallway. “I might be able to do that, but where could you even meet without them trying to take you out?”

  “Purgatory,” Mal said. She passed an abandoned car that had been stripped down to its frame for parts. Nothing went to waste out there unless it was in the path of a coming skyfall.

  “Ah,” she said. She paused in front of a door to process for a second, and then pushed it open and started climbing stairs. “Yeah, it doesn’t get much more neutral than that. No one fucks with the merc guild.”

  “You think you can set it up?” Mal asked. She listened to the smaller girl grunt as she climbed the stairs, the way it mixed with the rumble of the engine, and wanted nothing more than to reach out and pull Nadia into a hug. “Tell them I’ve got location data on all the remaining higher-ups.”

  “I’ll do my best,” she said. When she reached a landing, she jerked open a door and headed into a place lined with faculty offices. “My mentor owes me one. I’ve found it’s quite convenient to make sure people are in your debt.”

  “You’re the best,” Mal said. She’d been awake all night and never got a chance to sleep, so her reflexes were shot. With her focus split, she almost slammed into an old freight trailer missing its tires. “Let’s hang out after the meeting’s over and they call off the bounty.”

  “I’d love that,” she said. She shoved past a teacher’s assistant that worked as a secretary and headed straight for her mentor’s office. “I’ll send you the details when it’s all set up.”

  “I’ll see you soon,” Mal said. She let the call drop as Nadia opened the door.

  Half an hour later, Malory approached the checkpoint to enter New Detroit. She was concerned because the bounty had yet to be rescinded, but she still had plenty of credits to grease the way. She clenched her teeth until her jaw popped as she waited. The line moved swiftly, but the person directly in front of her was detained for trying to smuggle in an exotic hallucinogenic substance created in a facility outside the walls. Mal watched the guy escorted off in cuffs, and noticed he was wearing a plethora of nomad memorabilia. When it was her turn, she shifted uncomfortably under the guard’s scrutinizing gaze. Before he could run an identity check, she transferred a thousand credits directly to his network. His eyes glowed as the sum showed up, and he hesitated for a second to make sure none of his superiors were watching. When the coast was clear, he waved her forward. Mal accelerated through the point, and before anyone had a chance to change their minds, she opened up the throttle and took off into the city. When she was a few blocks in, Nadia sent over confirmation of a meeting in an hour. She had no idea how the girl managed to get it done so fast, but she set her GPS and went ahead of time.

  Purgatory was built inside an old foreign embassy, and the facade was rather plain. There was a parking area inside a wrought-iron fence and a simple neon sign shining red above the door. Malory pulled in, parked, and made her way to the bouncer. He was a giant man, stuffed to the brim with chrome, and each of his arms were primed and ready to eject electrified blades to gut anyone that tried to cause a scene. He went to reject entry, but let her pass when he realized she was the one that had assassinated ZenTech’s executives. He clapped her on the back as she passed to show his respect, and then she was inside. Mal was overwhelmed by the ambience, the vibrant interior, the way it evoked a descent into a place near hell. There was an open space with standing tables, and behind it, the bar. Rows and rows of assorted alcohol on display taunted her to drink, and up above there was a massive hologram of people burning in the flames of perdition. The whole thing was animated, and figures writhed from the pain. Here and there, depictions of famous mercs were plucked into the air by angels and carried toward heaven—Mover Marlow, Redtail Martinez, Ozone Cordova, 24/7, Alter Cerny, and Lacey Lantern each featured prominently. Malory grabbed a stool, but didn’t order anything.

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  There was a hallway that led to the back lined with retro arcade cabinets, and she could hear the thrum of live music being performed on the other side even early in the morning. She spun around and leaned backwards on the bar counter to observe her surroundings. Above her head on either side, she could see groups of dangerous people drinking and talking on the second floor balcony. Far to the right, patrons perused the wares of a gig supply depot that put the Black Hands armory to shame—countless guns, ammo boxes, supplies, tools, and memory chips begged to be purchased before crews headed off on their chosen jobs. Because the place was built on foreign embassy soil, Purgatory was technically a sovereign nation and separate from the laws of New Detroit. The mercenary guild enforced this fact with absolute fervor, and let no one violate their independence. Scattered around at calculated intervals, there were mercs wearing guild colors, and they were prepared to enforce order at a moment’s notice. Scattered around the place were tables, booths, and secluded rooms meant for negotiations, each more crowded than the last. Malory drank it all in like a parched wanderer fresh from the desert. She had finally made it to Purgatory, and it felt just as unbelievable as she expected.

  When the ZenTech representatives arrived, Malory was watching Faraday sneak closer to the rooms where the higher-ups slept inch by inch. He stuck to the shadows in the corners, and only advanced when there was no one around. When the three suits walked into the building, everything came to a standstill. All attention was turned their way, and even the music emanating from the back hall died out. The trio stopped in the center of the open space, and when Malory moved to get up from her seat, the grizzled bartender tapped her on the shoulder.

  “If those cunts are here for you, take it upstairs to one of the rooms on the far wall. Having them in the main area is bad for business,” he said. He gave Mal a stern look to make sure she understood.

  “Sure thing,” Mal said. She headed over and motioned for the suits to follow.

  They all went up the stairs, past hushed mercs too smart to speak their business in front of anyone on corporate payroll, and headed for a vacant room. Mal opened the door, filed in, and plopped down on the couch. The trio entered shortly after, but only one took a seat. The others stood to either side, their faces placid and unmoving. The one who sat leaned forward, rested his hands on his knees, and spoke.

  “Here’s the deal,” he said. He laced his fingers together and his eyes glowed blue. “I have received a report that you are in possession of key intelligence, and that you wish to initiate a trade in exchange for total amnesty for any actions deemed in opposition of ZenTech interests, up to and including assassination and murder.”

  “Yeah, pretty much,” Mal said. She tilted her head to the side, unable to measure whether the man was planning to fuck her over. Above their heads, a turret was set inside the ceiling, and it waited to disgorge its payload at the first sign of violence.

  “That’s all well and good,” he said. He sighed and then leaned back to scratch at his ear. “And under normal circumstances, I’d have the liberty to sign off on that in a heartbeat. However, because you are currently classified as an unverifiable enemy source, corporate policy dictates that I require you to be subjected to a test of loyalty to verify good will.”

  “What do you want me to do?” she asked.

  “You see,” he said. He glanced at the others on each side, and decided he had the liberty to speak somewhat freely. “ZenTech’s resources are spread quite thin, what with absorbing everything that once belonged to the Black Hands—claiming the spoils of war, you see. But there is a particular outpost that has given us a spot of trouble. You head over there, take out the remaining defenders, and we’ll have ourselves a deal.”

  “Sure, I can do that,” Mal said. She offered her metal hand for him to shake.

  “Lovely,” he said. He reached out, clasped the hand in his, and shook it vigorously. “Then, I’m afraid that concludes our business for today. You will be contacted directly once we have authenticated your completion of the trial. Have a good day.”

  As the man stood up and the suits started to file out of the room, the ghost materialized by Malory’s side. She reached out and stroked Mal’s cheek with a spectral hand, and it sent chills down her spine.

  Far be it from me to judge, but casting your lot with men like them is beneath you. If you had simply given me control, I would have solved this situation with much more elegance. Are you truly willing to sacrifice your integrity for a chance at revenge? Revenge? REVENGE?

  “It’ll be fine,” Mal said. She waited until the suits were gone, then headed back down to the bar and ordered a drink.

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