Theo hitched his horse beside a tree, keeping to the shadows of the woods. He watched the carriage trundle through wide gates and eyed the chainlink fence surrounding the premises. The gates swung closed. Guards stepped out of the darkness to wrap a chain around it, effectively sealing it.

An old factory? He gazed up at the smoke stacks. They were dormant. But the place was lit up and blazing in the dark, each of its windows glittering with light. His eyes swept over the imposing brick edifice and surrounding landscape. Guards paced the grounds with riffles slung across their backs.

Laghollow was a small town thirty miles outside of Chroma. It glittered in the valley farther down the hillside. He'd ridden hard to keep up with the barred carriage—to see where they were taking the rats they pulled from the streets. Now he knew. But like before, he had yet more questions than answers. Why here? What was this place?

He checked his pocket watch. Nearly one in the morning. The horse beside him snorted with exhaustion. He patted its neck and whispered a quick promise of rest before stealing off into the night.

He circulated the perimeter, keeping to the shadows. The guards appeared more intent on making sure whatever was inside the building didn't get out. They didn't notice him using light to dig under the tall fence. He could have climbed it, but didn't want to contend with barbed wire. It wasn't that he minded blood, he just didn't want to leave a trail of it.

He paused in his efforts as each patrol passed, then started up again. The courtyards and surrounding paths were lit with torches. So he kept to the shadows as he made his way to the back. There were doors, he noticed. A number of exits. But he was certain they were locked.

He caught sight of shadows moving into and out of view at the windows. Factories generally ceased operations by midnight to allow their workers time to rest. This one didn't appear in use for the means it was intended.

He froze as a scream ripped through the air. It was muffled, but loud enough to signal him forward. He waited for a patrol to pass then crept to a nearby window. His heart skipped.

It was some sort of...hospital? There were beds. Everything was white and sterral. But inside those beds, he saw males and females. They looked to be late teens, perhaps early twenties. All about the same age.

The gang rats.

"Light!" He swore under his breath when he saw the glint of metal. One of the patients had lifted an arm. His eyes widened. What were these...monsters?!

Another scream. One of the patients nearest the window was strapped down. The one screaming. His legs weren't legs at all. They were all metal and gears and cogs and...an abomination. What had they done to him?

"You there!" A weight barreled into him, pulling him from the window and pushing him against the brick facade. He didn't struggle, not at first. He'd gotten so distracted by the horrors within that he hadn't heard the patrol. Taking a deep breath, he maneuvered out of the grasp of the nearest guard. His companion swore and shot forward. Perhaps they'd think him someone from the building who'd tried to escape. A few scenarios worked through his mind. He eyed their uniforms before making up his mind.

He struck.

In two quick strokes, he slit their throats before they could sound the alarm. Breathing hard, he glanced around before looking down at their dead bodies. The nearest patrols were far enough away to remain oblivious. Making quick work of their bodies, he pulled them further away from the building and into the darkest shadow. Then he stripped the taller one and quickly changed out of his own clothes, keeping his weapons stashed beneath the uniform. He shouldered the riffle.

Exhaling, he paused, willing his muscles to calm as he waited for another patrol to pass. When the moment was right, he stole farther around the building and slipped inside. The hallway was lit with gaslight. His nose tingled. He always hated that smell.

He purposefully strolled forward, keeping his uniform cap pulled low. The hallway spit him out into an atrium of sorts.

"...these ones lurking around Crock's Row."

There were voices, so he stepped into a pool of shadow and watched. He recognized the three gang rats immediately and swore under his breath. These snatchers were getting pretty bold to go after members of the Forsaken. He recognized these in particular, but only because Tabby knew them. Tam, Roger, and Cal.

"They look of good build. That one will probably be a sight with a mech arm or two. Those two, mech legs, perhaps." A doctor—because he was wearing a white coat like the ones in the hospital room—held a clipboard examining the three new acquisitions. Tam struggled against his bonds and earned a cuff to the cheek from one of the snatchers who'd brought him in. The other three snatchers stood at the ready.

"Our tables are all booked for the night, but we can likely get them worked in tomorrow morning. We've been working under a tight deadline. Boss upped the ante. Good work, boys. Boss'll reward you well for these. They look healthier than some of the others. Got some good fight in 'em too. Take 'em to the cage. I'll get them on the schedule."

Theo stepped forward and hesitated, making himself just visible. The doctor glanced in his direction. It was a risk. But if he had to, he could take all four snatchers and the doctor in a matter of seconds.

The doctor scowled, eyeing him. "Why aren't you on duty?"

He cleared his throat. "Toilet, sir. I'm headed back out. I can take 'em to the cage on my way, if you like. So that this lot can head up to the boss."

The doctor hesitated, eyes drifting over his uniform before he nodded.

The snatchers had already made their way towards a side door but stopped. "Make sure they don't get the slip on you," one of them ordered, holstering the pistol he'd been carrying.

He pulled his riffle forward and made a show of clicking off the safety, pointing it straight at Tam's chest. If was unlikely that Tam recognized him from the city, but if he did, he smartly made no sign of it. "I'd like to see them try," he baited. "Doc there knows how to remove bullets, I hope."

Satisfied, the snatchers left him, turning instead to take the stairs. The doctor slipped away through another door. "Well, what are you waiting for?" He made a show of poking the barrel of the riffle at Tam's back before sending him through the door. "One wrong move and you'll get a bullet in your foot."

They moved down a deserted hallway and he marked the doors, uncertain of what stood behind them. Only one way to find out. "Stop," he barked at their backs, keeping his voice low. They did as commanded. He made quick work of the door beside him, using light and flicking his wrist to open it before letting it disburse into thin air. The inside was illuminated but he didn't look in.

"Inside, all of you."

His charges turned, eyes darting over his face, edging into the room.

"Hey! What are you doin'?!" came the cry from inside. The kitchen.

He threw a dagger to silence the cook. One of his charges cried out in surprise, the sound muffled behind his gag.

"Well?" he barked at them. "Hurry up and shut the door or do I have to spell it out for you."

They quickly edged in and Tam used his shoulder to close them in.

He moved across the room and examined the cook bleeding out on the floor, crouching beside him. "There any others in here with you?" The cook shook his head, eyes wide. "Good." Setting the bulky riffle on the floor, he pulled the dagger away and slit the cook's throat. Tam and the others were speaking now against their gags. "Shut it," he hissed, turning to them, "before someone hears you."

Silence fell. He listened. Nothing.

Moving over to them, he slit the ropes at their wrists and mouths. Tam swore, rubbing his jaw. Roger backed away from him. Cal gazed wide-eyed but stood otherwise frozen.

"If you ain't no guard, then who are you?" Tam said, eying him.

He hesitated, then took a gamble. "Tabby sent me. You want out of here or not?"

Their eyes widened. "Tabby?!" they echoed.

He knew how they idolized her, despite not knowing what she was. If anything, this would only inflate their view of her. But it would also make his job easier.

Fuck. He didn't know why he was doing this. He shouldn't be. And he'd regret it later.

"What the fuck is this place?" Roger asked, glancing around the kitchen as if finally seeing it.

"I'm sure you can guess, at least a little." Theo's voice came out flat.

"They been snatchin' rats off the streets fur weeks. Bringing 'em here? But why?" Tam glanced down at the dead cook.

"I'm not sure you want to know." Theo hesitated, eyes narrowing. "You were careless. None of you should have got caught."

"So you ain't no guard?" Tam crossed his arms. "You sure you know Tab?"

He ignored them and deliberated, considering his next move carefully. He wanted to see where the freaks went once the doctors were done operating on them. The hospital room he'd seen wasn't large enough to take up all the space. There was more here. More answers to the questions he had. But if he brought this lot with him, he'd have a right time explaining who they were.

There was a door at the far side of the kitchen, probably leading outside. Only a single window near the door, out of direct line of sight from where he stood. He moved around the room, twisting the knobs on the gas lamps, plunging the room into darkness. He could have used light from his prisms to make quick work of it, but that would alert Tam and the others to what he was.

He swore, stopping short. Once again, he questioned his situation. This was unlike him—completely unlike him. All he had to do was slit their throats and be on his way. It would save them from whatever horror the doctors planned. Save him from bending over backwards to accommodate them as he searched the rest of the facility.

It shouldn't have made him hesitate.

He clenched his fist, glancing to where they stood in the dark. There was a closet, a pantry. He moved over to it and examined the space. "Come here," he barked. They complied. "Stay in here until I come back for you. I don't need you getting in my way."

"How do we know you ain't just going to leave us." It seemed that using Tabby as a reference only got him so far.

He barked a laugh. "I could have put you in the cages had I wanted."

In the dim light, he saw Tam give a brief nod, then step in. The other two followed. "We ain't going to wait forever. You don't come back soon, we'll make a run for it."

"Right. Good luck with that." The patrolling guards would shoot them dead before letting anyone out of this place to spill its secrets.

He left them and stole through the factory, examining rooms and spaces. He passed the hospital he'd seen from outside. Saw a small operating room with three beds, all in use as the doctor had mentioned. There were a number of doctors. He counted twelve in total.

Another large room held a work floor. The sight of it reminded him of Tabby, of Newton's Mechanicals. He kept to the shadows, watching the scene before him. This was where they crafted the metal body parts. There stood a set of shelves, heavily guarded, with a variety of prisms. He swore under his breath. They weren't just fitting them with any tech. They were fitting them with prism tech.

He left the workshop through a door on the opposite wall and entered another hallway. It took him through a number of barracks filled with bunks of sleeping bodies. He emerged into a large, wide open space. This one looked like a training floor. There were sparring rings, ropes dangling from the tall ceiling, punching bags. Light! They were breeding an army here. That's why they were taking rats.

And the Lumineers?

The city had been cracking down on unsanctioned prism tech for quite a while. They'd been dealing traitor's deaths to all who were caught. But what if the ones dying weren't the Lumineers being caught. What if they only made it look that way. What if all the Lumineers being caught were coming to this disgusting compound.

He snorted under his breath. He'd seen enough. Part of him wanted to steal out into the night, but he thought of Tam and his fellow rats. Tabby need not know he'd seen them, that he'd let them succumb to the crown's sick and twisted uses. She didn't care about them that much anyway. And yet...

He stole back through the building, retracing his steps. Voices made him still and back into the shadows.

"...enough time to make it back and have a drink." He recognized the snatcher who'd spoken. How fortuitous. A smile stretched across his lips as a plan hatched. The four men came into view at the end of the hall. He waited for them to pass before following after. They were headed toward the atrium, talking and whistling, spirits high. He pulled light from the prisms at his belt and sent it straight for them, wrapping around their faces like a blanket, starving them for air as he sprinted down the hall after them. They dropped to the floor, kicking, clawing at their throats as they struggled to breath. He didn't wait for them to pass out. Instead, he used one of his blues to drag their bodies along with him, and sprinted back down the hall to the kitchen. The bodies slid across the polished floor without issue.

They weren't moving by the time he crept back into the darkened kitchen. The whispers that met his ears meant Tam and the other two hadn't followed his orders. "I thought I told you to stay put," he snarled, taking Tam by the throat. "If you can't follow simple orders, I'll kill you here and be done."

Tam choked but managed a nod.

"Good. Undress them and change. Let's go." All three eyed the bodies before them before jumping into action. He did the same, discarding his guard uniform and riffle, exchanging it for the lead snatcher's clothes. The boots were tall enough to hide the fact that the pants were inches from his ankles. He was forced to leave the top button undone.

"You carry a lot of weapons," Tam noted. "What are you, a masker?" It was meant as a joke, he was certain, but he didn't like how close it hit home.

He rounded on Tam, lifting a dagger to his throat. "If I were a Masker, you'd be dead, yes?" Tam's eyes widened but he nodded. "Good. No more questions. You speak when I tell you to speak. You stay silent otherwise. You follow every order I give until we return to Chroma. Any slip up and I'll slit your throats. I don't need you slowing me down. I could have been long gone by now. Understand?" They nodded in unison. "If all goes well, we'll walk right out of here. Now, put the bodies in the pantry—the cook's too."

The floor was slick with blood where the cook had bled out. But in the dark, no one would see the smears until long after they were gone.

Dressed as snatchers, they made their way down the hall. He advised them in quiet tones on how to act. By the time they reached the door, they were joking and laughing, excited to return to Chroma for a night of drinking. The caged cart stood waiting, its horses pawing the ground with boredom. He recalled the positions he'd seen the snatchers take, and threw out instructions under his breath, taking the reigns.

He remained alert as they set the horses into action. The guards on patrol didn't pay them more than a quick glance. He kept his face forward, doing nothing to show disgust he felt.

His mind was spinning with all he'd seen—far more than his mind could have conjured on its own. He'd gotten the answers he'd wanted, but what did it matter? He was a blade, nothing more, nothing less. The crown did what it wanted. The war—whenever it would strike—wouldn't affect him. But at least now he knew.

***

Tabby crossed the street. The windows in Steiner's townhouse glowed. Friday night? Steiner was probably entertaining guests, perhaps even a lady. That thought might have entertained her at any other time. Not now.

Instead of sneaking in, she carelessly pounded on the front door, letting the entire house know she was there. It took several minutes for Steiner's butler to answer. He glanced out onto the street, perhaps expecting others with her. She didn't wait for his permission to enter. She stormed past him without an invitation, waltzing into the foyer. "I want Steiner," she barked. "It's an emergency."

"Oh, I'm rather sorry, Lady Webb," he said as he looked her up and down, perplexed as to why she was dressed like a machinist.

Her gaze was scathing, challenging him for an answer.

"My lord is out," he said at last.

"Out." She repeated, crossing her arms, glancing about, listening, expecting to hear Steiner's laugh from the drawing room. There was nothing. "Out where?" She said at last.

"I cannot say, Lady Webb. It's Friday night. He is always out on Friday nights."

"It's past midnight. When will he be back?" She'd wait, but not for long.

"He usually doesn't return until two, sometimes three of the clock. I don't think he would take kindly to guests at that hour." The hint was clear enough. A dismissal. "I can tell him you stopped by, though, or if you'd like to leave a card." He motioned her over to the small foyer table where calling cards were stacked in a neat pile.

She hesitated, glancing at the cards before turning back to him, eyeing him. "What is he doing out so late?"

"As I said, I do not know. He does not keep me abreast of his comings and goings, as is his privilege."

"And it's the same every Friday?" The butler's brow furrowed, but he didn't answer. "When does he leave?"

"He generally sets out around—" He stopped himself. "I do not think he would appreciate me sharing this information."

"Steiner trusts me," she snapped. She didn't have time for this. "Tell me."

"Seven, usually, Miss Webb."

"Seven..." She began pacing. Every moment spent was a moment Elias might be subjected to the damn mutton shunters and possible interrogation. Or handed over to the Spectrum. He could be under the Temple already. How long until he shattered? How long until he revealed her identity. Light! He even knew of her plans for the Spectrum. She needed to act—now.

"Very well," she said at last. "Tell Steiner I stopped by. And tell him I'm furious with him for being out. Tell him—" She hesitated. "Tell him I'm going to get Elias out of jail." Let Steiner make of that what he would. Surely he could work it out for himself. She turned on her heel and saw herself out, slamming the door as she went.