Recognition held in them like fireflies in a bottle.

He had never seen the Princep so pissed. Although she sounded the exact same –Chang didn’t believe her vocal cords were capable of expressing more emotion than seething disappointment– he had been around her long enough to know when she wanted someone dead.

“How the hell did they get past the jamming?”

“We believe that they’ve hacked into one of the Federation’s communication satellites,” said Mobitz. “We managed to get control back after three minutes.”

“Three minutes was all they needed. That video is on every channel, from national to talk shows. They’re calling her Nightingale of Homunculi.”

“Do you have any orders, ma’am?”

Chang could hear her sigh through the call. “I’ll handle the PR and logistics. You keep the jamming chokehold and make sure the terrorists are dead.”

“And the hostages?”

“Make every attempt to get them out of this alive, but we both know how this will likely end up. If it comes down to it, just make sure it’s quick and painless.”

Mobitz saluted, knowing she couldn’t see it. “Yes, ma’am.”

The Runner put the transponder back and turned towards him. If he was at all disturbed by the situation, Chang couldn’t tell. He was almost as expressionless as the Princep. “Alright, Mr. Chang, you’re up.”

“I’d imagine there’s a reason it’s me and not another, more experienced Runner.”

“Firstly, you’re First Rank now. Even if you’re the newest of them, that means you’re capable. There’s a certain high bar for talent, and you’ve passed it.” Mobitz’s eyes glowed, and a hologram display formed between them. “Secondly, there are only two passageways into the Menagerie that don’t require penetrating five hundred layers of concrete. One we believe the terrorists know about: a tunnel leading to the lowest level of the facility. That one, I will take a small group of soldiers and Runners through.”

The hologram changed to another tunnel, leading in from the sea. “The second passageway is a storm drain, leading into the heart of the Menagerie.”

“And the terrorists don’t know about this one?”

“They do. But it’s unlikely it’s as guarded.”

“Let me guess– “

“Yes, Mr Chang, it is heavily flooded.” Mobitz’s glasses caught the hologram’s glare, and they hid his eyes. “Take a dive. That is your specialty, is it not?”

❖

The waters were dark. Cold, even through five hundred tons of iron. Chang had never felt safe within the Triton; the Lethe unit, more than average Runners, had a tendency for death, and everyone knew it. They were often sent on missions above their rank, with less support, because they were cannon fodder. After all, they were all criminals once, and their reincarnation was always meant to be a punishment. Death, the Bureau believed, was their mercy.

This is my second chance, Chang reminded himself. If I die, it is what I deserve.

The Triton’s cockpit, its tight metal carapace, never felt more like a coffin. Then, it began to rock, red lights blaring on his display. Left arm integrity at 85%, it read.

Did he just smack against the walls of the tunnel? No, the tunnel was wide enough that he had to be an especially bad pilot to skid against them. Chang swung the Triton back around and raised the floodlight intensity. Even against the bursting light, the waters appeared pitch-black, more a hungry void than any natural element that obeyed physics.

He kept reminding himself that he was within a drain pipe. Its confines were conceivable– limited. A finite measurement of feet and inches. If he kept going sideways, he could eventually hit rusted aluminium. Yet, in that blanket of darkness, he was floating in space. Endless. Depthless. Unknowable.

It was like he was a boy again, back inside his childhood room. After his sister turned off the lights, as much as he could tell himself he was still inside his room, his mind would still wander. All he could be certain of were the covers wrapped tight around him. The walls, floor, and ceiling did not define the fathomless void around him. Nothing did.

The radar started beeping. Chang glanced out his glass dome. Orange light framed its face, and for a moment, he thought it was a man. The murky water depths painted its skin a human shade.

The Triton rumbled again. Chang almost smashed his head against the display screen. Headpiece integrity at 70%.

He thrust forward the control stick. The Triton roared into motion, streaming bubbles with each swing. The first punch went nowhere, crashing into the darkness to hit only water. The homunculus had vanished again.

Chang tried to direct the mech back around, but even when designed for underwater combat, it was slow; lumbering. The homunculus slammed against the helmet, and he scrambled to reorientate himself. He caught a glimpse of the creature’s hands through the cracked glass: long white fingers, webbed in-between, tapering off into a thin sharp spike.

And then it was gone again, leaving Chang scrambling for direction.

Even thirty million dollars and the ingenuity of the greatest human minds couldn’t beat evolution. The homunculus, its slim shape and webbed limbs, was born for manoeuvring the ocean depths. But Chang? Chang had a five-hundred-ton hunk of metal.

He flicked a switch on the dashboard and the plates of Triton’s arm shifted open. The barrel of a rifle poked through with the whirling of cogs.

Five hundred-ton hunk of metal, and a harpoon gun.

Chang kept his eye on the radar. Its beeping droned on in his ear like a metronome, constant and unceasing. When it reached a crescendo, he whirled towards the direction marked. By the time the Triton had turned, he only caught the stream of bubbles the creature left behind.

The mech shook again, this time from behind. The whiplash swung Chang’s head back, crackling against the back of the cockpit. Turning around, all he could see were the pieces of his armour, torn off and floating away.

Chest integrity at 50%.

Chang took a deep breath. He needed to re-examine his approach. The homunculus was swimming circles around him; its sheer speed, in its natural environment no less, was unbeatable. If that was the case, it didn’t matter how fast he trained his reaction time or how much he tweaked the specs of the Triton. He would have to take speed out of the equation entirely.

Chang flicked down every switch on his dashboard: the interior lights, the floodlights, even the propulsions keeping the mech floating. He switched every digital display to audio instead. The only thing still active in the Triton was the controls, but Chang didn’t bother using them. He kept still, and without him operating, the Triton began to sink.

What little light he did have was gone. The only way he could tell where his limbs were was by touch. All he could do now in that darkness was listen to the sloshing and bubbling of the water. Finally, the Triton slammed into the bottom of the pipe.

I’m wide open, Chang reminded himself, holding his breath. That last attack ripped out my fuel supply. My electronics are fried. There’s nothing I can do now.

After a few seconds, something scraped by. A light prod against the suit. Another few seconds went by, and the homunculus returned for a second check. The third time, it came for the kill.

Chang gripped the safety straps on his seat as the Triton quaked and screeched. He could hear the creature’s claws on the headpiece and the crackling of the glass as its strength started to give out.

His AI spoke into his headphone, Headpiece integrity at 50%. The voice was cold. Calm, despite being inches from its demise.

“Be like that” Chang whispered to himself. “Be cool. It’s all raw numbers.”

Another hit and the Triton rocked even harder this time. He heard the creaking of the metal. From the way the suit quivered, the homunculus was on top of him now. Just as he made that realisation, it clubbed at his face, as if in affirmation.

Headpiece integrity at 20%.

Something was hissing. Chang reached out to touch the glass, brushing his fingers from one side to the other. He felt water.

Headpiece integrity at 15%. Oxygen supply compromised. Recommended action: withdraw and ascend immediately.

“Fuck,” he muttered. His chances of surviving improved if he had just kept silent, but he couldn’t help it. His heart was pounding on his chest, hammering away so hard it hurt. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. How would you rather die, Chang, drowning or ripped apart by a fucking fish?”

The homunculus must’ve had a claw on the helm. The crackling of glass was getting louder, and the water was beginning to drip.

Headpiece integrity at 10%.

Hold.

Headpiece integrity at 8%.

Hold.

Headpiece integrity at 5%.

Now.

The Triton thundered awake. One hand shot out, its palm wide. The homunculus, too distracted and too close, tried to dive away, but the Triton snapped onto it just in time. Chang switched all the functions back on, and the floodlights illuminated the creature, squirming and screaming.

Chang seized the homunculus by its neck, the Triton’s iron fingers easily locking around it. He plunged the beast downwards, deep into the depths until he felt it slam against the pipe’s floor. The crack of the creature’s skull against the metal reverberated up the suit, from the hand to the cockpit.

Chang aimed the Triton’s other arm, ramming it into the homunculus’s screeching mouth. He could have gloated then. He could have relished in watching the creature cry and wriggle for its life. Another Runner would’ve.

Instead, he just said, “I’m sorry” and squeezed the trigger.

The harpoon ripped through the homunculus’s skull. Its blood sprayed into the water, thick and white like seafoam.

❖

The thermal lance left a trail of glowing red scars along the vault door. Even standing this far away, Mei could feel the heat emanating from it. She couldn’t imagine what it was like for Ulna and the others.

“How much longer?” she asked, wiping sweat from her brow.

Ulna paused. He lifted his welding mask off and breathed deeply. “Real soon. The drill really did a number on it, so the thermal lance is working quite smoothly.”

“What does ‘real soon’ mean?”

“Uh, I don’t know.”

“Raw numbers, Ulna.”

“Maybe twenty minutes? I’m talking glass-half-full here.”

Mei glanced around the room. “Has the archive team found anything yet? Any hints about what we might be expecting behind the door?”

“Doubt it, ma’am,” another welder said. “The workers destroyed most of the digital stuff. If someone manages to find something on fuckin’ paper, I’ll be damned.”

“If they find something,” said Ulna. “I’m sure they’ll come sprinting down the hallways, screaming.”

“No need.” Mei sighed, turning around. “I’ll go find them. If there’re any changes while I’m gone, radio me.”

❖

The moment Chang made it inside the Menagerie, he ditched the Triton. As much as it was his best weapon, he needed to do things quietly from here. Besides, being away from that coffin, especially after how close he came to dying in it, wasn’t so bad.

After climbing out of the plumbing system, he found himself in the centre of the facility. He had only ever seen brochures and commercials of the place; the sort with veterinarians and scientists holding hands, smiling at the camera in front of a perfect sunrise. The real Menagerie, or at least the sprawling network underneath, was concrete hallways upon concrete hallways.

Mobitz had sent a map into his interface, marking the places the hostages were most likely held. Even without it, it wasn’t difficult to discern the way. He just had to follow the terrorists– the bigger their guns, the closer he was.

“You would think with all that money the Bureau has, they could afford some better coffee,” said one guard, taking a sip. “This tastes like it came out a cat’s ass.”

“You wouldn’t know quality if it slapped you in the face,” said the other guard. “This is that gourmet Swedish shit.”

“The Swedes can keep their damn coffee beans. Bleh. I’m sticking to tea–”

One pistol shot, from a silenced muzzle. The only sound was his body crashing to the ground.

“Sinclair?” The other guard fumbled for something on his belt. His gun or his radio, it didn’t matter. Chang wrenched his arm around the man’s neck and tightened. The man clawed at it, desperately fighting for air. Ultimately, it was fruitless.

Chang left the two men on the ground, exchanging his Runner’s uniform for theirs. Unlike Jin Yurinhalt and Clint Séquard, he was quite unknown in his profession, so he shouldn’t need to worry about being recognised. His only concern was that the terrorist cell was more close-knit than he thought.

The hostages were being held in the lounge, one of the only rooms big enough to hold them. Chang opened the door just a crack to catch a glimpse inside. All of the workers, from interns to executives, were strewn around, some on the ground, some on sofas. It was a bit packed, but nothing torturous. He spotted boxes of bottled water and canned food lying around too. At least the terrorists were treating them well.

“Sinclair?”

Chang froze up. His hand jumped to his gun.

“Sinclair, are the hostages okay?”

He didn’t dare move. In a deeper voice, he replied, “Going swell, ma’am.”

“Good. Keep at it then.”

Chang waited a few moments before letting out a sigh. Keeping his hand on his weapon, he craned his neck back for a glance. The muzzle of a pistol looked back.

“Step away from the door.” The woman was the same from the broadcast. Tang Mei-ling. She had her pink hair tied back into a bun. A military standard braid. Her stance and the way she held her gun were marks of a professional. She seemed only a bit older than him. Were they in the same war? “I said step away. And keep your hands up where I can see them.”

Chang obeyed, as slowly as he could. He kept his back to her so she wouldn’t see his eyes flashing as he connected to his interface.

Triton Mk. IV Armour Suit, it read. Linked. Switching to auto-control. Deploying now.

He needed to buy time. “You have a red laurel?”

“Got a black one too.”

“I thought you people in the HLF wanted to save the homunculi.”

“As I said, I’m an idealist, but I’m not naive. Those homunculi were rabid. Hostile. Putting a bullet between their eyes was saving them.”

“Impressive,” said Chang. “You’re just a natural-born leader, aren’t you?”

“You want my number? Or are you just trying to buy time?”

Error. His interface blared red. Rogue hacker detected. Ceasing Triton deployment sub-routine.

Chang dropped to the ground just as a bullet passed overhead. Pivoting on his heel, he snatched his own pistol and shot, knocking the woman’s gun out of her hand. He tried to shoot again, but she had already crossed the gap between him. She hooked his outreached wrist and yanked up, causing him to misfire into the ceiling. In one motion, she swung him around and smacked him against the floor, pinning him down. The gun flew from his grasp.

The woman dug one knee into his chest and forced his hands still. His struggle grew less violent as she shifted her full weight on him.

“Fuck!” he cried out. “Get the hell off me!”

“Stay still.” She picked up the gun and levelled it right against his temple. “Or you’ll be the one who needs saving. You…”

Their eyes met and hers softened. Recognition held in them like fireflies in a bottle. “Kai?”