She left Alba, Kaiser, the destroyed cyborg, and her brush with death behind in the bar.

It took an hour before the after effects of her encounter faded away, and Holly could propel herself out of the place under her own power. She didn't say much; didn't have much to say. She just slouched out into the streets, tearing hungrily at a second meat sandwich as she went.

The nutrients, synthetic or otherwise, helped bolster her shocked system.

What the hell had she found out there in the depths of the data stream? She'd grown up in Hadrian, a respected scion of Gammaton Avionics, well-sponsored, with a future assured among some the greatest, glowing data centres on the planet.

Never had she even brushed against something with that kind of power. Thousands of petabytes of sheer will. Just skimming the edge of it very nearly killed her.

The fear crept back into Holly's bones. Nothing in corporate history, sealed or otherwise, hinted at anything like that. Her eyes flashed across the water, to the bleak, haunted hell of Hadrian South, and she wondered just what might be festering there, away from the oversight of the corporations.

They'd told her a little, back when she'd still been of use to them. Things in Hadrian South were not as dead as people thought. The monitoring posts reported clumps of things moving in groups through the ruins, hidden in the shadows. Rumours trickled through Hadrian's corporate overlords of some of the denizens of that place regaining some semblance of self over the long decades.

She didn't know how true any of it really was, but the codewraith programme, and the AI, had all been in response to that. Of course, Hadrian's corporations could have just atomised the place with a single, well-placed bomb, but what a waste that would be.

The overlords of the city hadn't gotten there by destroying every problem they encountered. Manipulation, subversion, repurposing resources – that was how you survived the cut and thrust of the corporate game. Holly felt a pang of longing for being part of it. The corps were all that kept this cesspit of a city from devouring itself, and now they'd cast her out, because she failed.

Could she atone for it?

Perhaps the encounter with this... thing would give her some leverage.

Devouring the last of the sandwich, she stepped out into the main street, her mind beginning to recover some of its sharpness. A smokey neon bustle enveloped her as she walked, past food carts, bars, mod-shops and drug stalls, thick with clientele. She wrinkled her nose in distaste as she wove through it all, trying to put the pieces together.

How did that presence connect to the murders in the docks? Why had she found it locked away in the deep darkness of a dead cyborg?

Resting on hand against the pocket of her jacket, she felt the faint outline of the cyborg's memory chip – the last lead she'd extracted from the dead creature. She wasn't about to go diving into it herself any time soon, but maybe something could be gleaned from more, conventional methods.

The hum of a corporate drone pricked at the edge of her senses, and Holly took a sharp left out of the machine's path, sliding her hands into her pockets. It passed by a few seconds later, several meters above the rooftops, its spider-like frame barely visible in the fading evening light. Most of the people below probably didn't even notice.

She waited, feeling around with her implants for any other unwanted interruptions. Finding none, she walked quickly back onto the main street, crossed over, and fixed her eyes on the shining spires of the corporate heart on the horizon. The help she needed wouldn't be found here.

That meant she had to clear the corporate cordon around this battered stretch of the city.

Holly squared her shoulders, and freed her amplifier from its sheathe. Ideally, she could pull this off without anyone seeing her, but she wasn't about to just turn herself in if things went south. She set off towards the northern edge of the cordon, running parallel to the lights of the corporate spires, in the direction of a clump of bars and seedy sparkhouses.

More drones whinnied softly overhead, sensors probing through the neon signs and sputtering datastreams. Holly moved with careful precision, dipping from street to street; alley to alley, until she could see one of the corporation roadblocks. Beyond it, just visible as the road sloped upwards, was the broad front of a dingy U-Rail station.

Her eyes flickered skywards, amplifier throbbing for a moment as she scanned the area for any extra security. She found nothing, save for a few drones circling distantly, and the half dozen disinterested-looking guards. All-Tracts Security Solutions, these ones, a minnow security firm probably subcontracting off one of the bigger firms.

Also, probably there to keep the locals in check. She doubted they would be on the look-out for an AmpCore agent, even one like her. The price on her head wasn't overt; wouldn't do for Gammaton to admit to the wider ecosystem that one of their prized assets had slipped the net.

Waiting for her moment between the sweeping patrols of the drones, Holly stepped out into the main street, amplifier held clearly in evidence and marched straight towards them, head held high. She looked as imperious as she could as she approached, forcing herself not to flinch when rifles were levelled at her by the surprised guards.

"Hey, hey, stop right there!" the man in charge blurted, his voice cracking as he fumbled for his snub-nosed SMG.

"Relax," she said breezily without breaking stride. "AmpCore, Langley. Prometheus."

The guard aimed at her, his face crumpling in confusion until he saw her amplifier. He hesitated and glanced back at one of his subordinates. The woman shrugged, her own gun only half raised with indecision.

"I... Miss Langley, please hold up a moment." He let the barrel of his gun drop, one hand raising pleadingly.

Making a show of a dramatic sigh, Holly stopped walking just a few meters away from him, foot tapping impatiently.

"Officer, I do not have time for this."

"Sorry, ma'am, it's just we have orders to-,"

"To detain Prometheus personnel?"

"I – no, ma'am. But with what's happening-,"

"I'm well aware of what's happening." Holly gestured back over her shoulder. "What the hell do you think I'm going here? Prometheus needs eyes on the ground here before some other idiot starts kicking the hornets nest." Her eyes narrowed and she stepped towards him. "Who's got your contract?"

The man recoiled. "I'm not at liberty to divulge-,"

"Well, if you're not going to tell me then I've got no-one else to take it out on, do I?" She let a little power leak out of her amplifier, twisting it and sending out a ripple of gravity, enough to shake the suspension on their black vans.

The lead guard looked sharply back over his shoulder, eyes going wide. He swallowed hard and straightened up, pulling his gun up across his chest.

"Alright then," Holly said, her tone instantly sweet as she started walking again. 

"Apologies, ma'am."

She patted the guard on his shoulder as she passed. "No apology necessary. You're just doing your job, and doing it properly. More than I can say for a lot of people around here."

"I... thank you, ma'am."

"Don't mention it."

None of the other guards challenged her as she slipped between the vehicles and strode up the road, keeping her head high and forcing herself not to look back. Sweat beaded on her cheeks; her hands felt clammy. She breathed deep, wrestling her heartbeat under control as she approached the sputtering neon band of the U-Rail station.

Gratefully, she plunged herself into the small crowd of people cueing at the main platform, passing through turnstiles, their wrist-links passing over the payment nodes as they went. With her amplifier beneath her coat, Holly rotated the turnstile as she passed through, and piled onto the arriving U-Rail tube with everyone else.

The U-Rail door slid shut, and Holly let her knees buckle as she collapsed into the nearest seat.

*

She stepped off the train just a few stops outside the cordon. Diving straight back into the corporate heart stinking of the docks and greasy food would mark her out as clearly as painting a bulls-eye between her shoulder blades. Her next port of call was relatively well-turned out clothing shop for this part of the city. Although currently folded up, she could see the tell tale toothed edges of armoured shutters around the windows. Evidently the proprietor had the good sense to invest in security out here.

After a few minutes of choosing and haggling, Holly walked out of the place with her grimy cast-off AmpCore gear safely bundled into a backpack. Instead, she wore a sleek, high-throated dress that clung to her body, down to just above her knees. With it, she coupled a faux-leather jacket over the top, and a set of elegant ankle high boots. Not the most practical get up if she got into a fight, but right now she needed a bit of style over substance. She needed to look like she belonged.

Her temple implants flickered as she boarded another U-Rail train, this one a little more polished than the last, its outer hull glittering with corporate advertisements that made the datastreams sizzle. She plunged in, closing her eyes as the train shot off along the underground mag-railings.

Names flashed in front of her eyes. She skimmed through several directories until she found who she was looking for. It was the work of a moment for her to punch into Gammaton's old personnel records to dredge up the address. Holly smiled thinly, her holo-visor vanishing. She looked up at the U-Rail's real time display and counted down the stops.

She emerged half an hour later into a very different part of Hadrian. Although the buildings remained tightly packed together, these ones were achingly clean, as were the streets around them. Smooth-sided tower blocks climbed thirty to forty stories all around her, some of them sporting small hanging greenhouses on their flanks. Lit windows pockmarked their exteriors, and corporate ads scrolled down the vast flanks. She could smell some kind of artificial scent – something like cut grass – being pumped out of the lower levels.

A little taste of home. Her family's house wasn't so different – a little more space and not quite so many neighbours, but clean and smooth. A reminder of what the corporations could do if left to it.

She checked the address one more time, then sauntered into the lobby of the corresponding block. Her amplifier let her bypass the locks with ease, making her look for all the world like she was just another resident in this place.

An elevator ride and twenty-six floors later, she stepped out, visor shimmering in front of her eyes to show the floor plan of the building. All around her it was white walls decorated with abstract, constantly changing panels of impressionist artwork. Lattices of decorative coding swirled around blazing advertisements.

SHELF LIFE INC. – GIVE YOUR HOME A LOOK TO LAST

U-ENERGY. THE ONLY WAY TO MAKE SPACE YOURS.

MARDER HOME DEFENCE. GIVING CRIME A BAD DAY.

She smiled thinly as she passed them. Small time, home defence, interior decoration, the bottom feeders of the corporate ladder. A pang of longing wiped the smile off her face a moment later when she belatedly realised she was lower than any of them right now. At Gammton Avionics she'd been someone – a major player.

Maybe she still could be.

Holly stuffed her amplifier into the makeshift sheathe in her new jacket and walked, twisting and turning through the immaculate hallways. At the corner apartment marked number 2627, she found what she was looking for. A holographic 3D name plate spelled out PARDUA, L in shiny orange lettering.

Holly breathed deep, collected her thoughts and, before she had time to second guess herself, knocked on the door.

A bump from inside follow by a muffled curse told her she had the right place. She waited, listening the scuffling footsteps and resisting the urge to reach out with her implants to feel what was happening just beyond the door.

It was rude to spy on your friends.

"Who is it?" a voice finally called. "How did you get up here?"

"An old friend." Holly craned her neck forward, looking straight into the little camera port that stared out at her from the centre of the door. "You can see me, right?"

"What in the..."

A bleep and hiss of disengaging locks echoed in the hallway and the door slid aside, revealing the tall, elegant form of Layne Pardua. It seemed she'd caught him either napping, or doing something less savoury. He wore a rumpled set of silk trousers, skewed with haste, and a long gossamer robe of blue.

Everything about him seemed elongated. He loomed over by a full head and shoulders, with a slim neck and long face below his tangle of pale curled hair. His eyes fixed on her, first narrowing in confusion, then widening again in disbelief.

And again in horror.

"Lockley?!" Pardua leapt back from the door like he'd just stood on a landmine. "Oh, no, no, no, no – you cannot be here! You're dead!"

Holly grinned. "Is that what they told you?"

"Oh. My. God, Holly!" His voice leapt into a higher octave and pressed his hands to his cheeks, slapping lightly, as though trying to convince himself he wasn't dreaming.

"You going to be okay?"

"What are you doing here? How... how are you..."

She took a sharp step forward and grabbed him by the shoulder. "Fucking hell, Pardy, get a hold of yourself!"

He slapped her hand away. "Me? Why are you knocking on my door, Holly? After everything... shit you're not supposed to be alive! If I got caught talking to you...?" His fingers clenched into his curls.

"Guess I don't have a very good reputation anymore, do I?"

"Honey, you have no idea."

She cocked an unimpressed eyebrow. "Well, are you going to invite me in?"

"Am I what?!"

"The longer I'm standing out here, the more likely someone wanders by and sees me."

Pardua scowled. "Buggeration. Fine. Get in here. This had better be good." With a flounce, he spun on his heel and stalked back into his apartment.

Holly smirked, and followed him in. Them whole apartment smelled like silky rose, gentle sweeps of purple carpet weaving between white-grey furniture. At a wave of Pardua's hand, the door slid shut behind her. His visor flashed briefly over his eyes, and a series of matte-black screens slid soundlessly down over the windows, before he stalked towards a nearby cabinet, its exterior finished with smooth marble, its top littered with expensive looking bottles of liquor.

"How's Misha?" she asked as she stepped into the room.

"He's bloody lucky that he's still on shift right now." Pardua snatched up a cube-shaped bottle of something deep and gold, and poured himself a large glass. He looked at the bottle for a few seconds, exhaled deeply through his nose, and then poured a second glass.

Setting the bottle down, he crossed the room with both drinks and handed her one.

"Thanks." She raised it to him.

"Haven't forgotten my manners," he replied. "That's a twelve year Muirsong scotch, so for God's sake, don't gulp it." Then he took a sharp sip, throwing his head back and swallowing. The whisky seemed to settle his nerves. He looked at the door, then back to Holly, his brow furrowing.

"Holly Lockley," Pardua murmured, shaking his head. "What happened to you?"

"Same thing that happens to a lot of people in Hadrian, I guess." She took a sip. The Muirsong settled on her tongue, all fire and smoke, before burning a gentle trail down her throat. "Was part of something big, and it turns out I was just... on the wrong side of it all, I guess. In too deep. I messed up and now-," she gestured vaguely to the opaque window screens of Pardua's apartment, "I'm apparently a dead woman."

"Well you look good for dead."

"Charmer."

"Oh, if I only you were my type, honey."

Holly rolled her eyes and took another drink. "But I'm not staying this way, Pardy. You've heard about all this shit going on in the cordon, down by Allchem?"

He gave her a pitying smile. "I hear whispers. Don't tell me you've gone and stuck your neck in the middle of that mess? I heard some of your old friends from AmpCore are taking lumps out of each other down there?"

"Yeah?"

Pardua nodded. "Oh, yes. It's a very alpha male dick measuring contest down there from what I've been told. What's it got to do with you?"

"I'm doing some investigating of my own, and I think I found something that Gammaton'll be interested in. Very interested."

"Ah, you're going to buy you're way back in, eh?"

"If I can."

He made a non-committal noise and sat down in a nearby armchair, shaped more like a gentle bowl than a piece of furniture.

"But you need my help, right?"

"If you're willing to help out an old friend."

"That very much depends on what you're going to ask for."

"I've just got something I need you to take a look at," she said innocently.

"Uh-huh?" Pardua gave her a sceptical look.

"Will you relax?"

"As a rule, no."

"Some things never change."

"Holly, I am about three seconds from slamming an emergency response call and having that pretty backside of yours hauled off to a Gammaton holding cell," Pardua said icily. "As far as anyone at Gammaton knows, you're a corpse, blacklisted, records sealed and contracts liquidated. That means I could probably get my circuits torn out just for talking to you right now, so what do you want?!"

"Alright, alright, alright." Holly frowned, and reached into the pocket of her new jacket. Her fingers closed around the diminutive memory chip, and she slipped it free. "Here."

She held it out, opening her palm so he could see it properly.

As soon as she saw his eyebrows rise, she knew she had him. His arms unfolded and the index finger of his right hand tapped against his glass as he stared.

"Now, where did you get something like that, Holly Lockley?"

"It's a good story, believe me." She flashed him another grin. "And I'll tell you the whole thing. All I want from you is to figure out where this thing came from, and what makes it tick."

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