Cadaver Company

"In my dreams I can see you,

I can tell you how I feel,

In my dreams I can hold you,

And it feels so real"

Just For You

Anyu!

The floor of the darkened room was littered with literally everything. Someone willing to dig through tons of useless junk might stumble upon something truly valuable. Local gangs passed through this and hundreds of similar empty buildings, each contributing something of their own. No one outside the fringes would dare approach such dens, and members of various gangs didn't care about the order in the pass-through apartments.

A small countertop, floating in the air thanks to a pair of repulsors, and three spacious sofas upholstered in artificial leather were the only furnishings in the room. Four young people lounged on these sofas in comfortable positions. On the table lay ready-to-use pressure syringes—disposable syringes whose operation was based on the principles of simple diffusion. Using them was slightly more painful than using needles, but at least they eliminated the risk of HIV infection.

Three men and a woman—all fully immersed in the drug-fueled visions that unfolded in their well-motivated imaginations. They were no different from any other young urban gangster. Lavishly dressed, tattooed, with hair of every imaginable color and curiously chosen contact lenses. Their lives were short but intense, and they were perfectly aware of it. Drugs and other chemicals with difficult-to-pronounce names, hundreds of thrill-seeking partners (or, for women, partners) for one night stands, and regularly recurring daring robberies to shore up their finances—that was precisely what thrilled them.

One of the men, Sean, went to the window, though it took a great deal of effort. He wiped the glass with his hand. A small amount of light from the lanterns floating high above the surface of Old Earth filtered in.

"What the fuck did he do that for?" asked the other, David.

"I don't feel well," Sean replied.

"Guess what that has to do with us," the third among them, Tom, chimed in.

For as long as they could remember, they had stuck together. Down here, no one was given any special treatment. The residents of the poorer neighborhoods, over three-quarters of the population, had long since forgotten the concept of nurturing. Mothers abandoned their children immediately after birth. Hundreds of newborns spent the first years of their lives in spartan conditions in hospitals, only to emerge onto the streets, where various groups were already waiting with open arms, offering them a modicum of attention and much-needed understanding. This was the way recruitment was conducted, and those who refused to conform died, or, less frequently, like Tom's gang, were united into tiny communities.

Tom was several years older than the other three—David, Sean, and the only woman in the group, Anne, who, while genuinely hating her name, made it clear she wanted to be called Kitty. It was he who brought them together, saving them from certain death. Together, at times barely making ends meet, they happily reached an age when burglaries and robberies proved to be a remarkably simple way to maintain a decent standard of living. As they themselves said, nothing could surprise them now.

"I have to leave, I'm feeling dizzy," Sean continued.

"Just come back quickly, you know the rules," Tom reminded him.

The security measures they had to resort to had saved their lives more than once. A series of rules they had developed, based on their experiences, were intended to prevent potential enemies from discovering their hideout or learning their personal information. Tom frequently reminded them of the rules they were expected to follow.

Sean walked briskly toward the elevator. The woman who had given him a wide berth in the hallway had avoided the consequences of her arrogant behavior simply because he felt ill. He had stopped at his designated spot to signal to the building computer that he was willing to move to another floor. The machine reacted quickly and signaled its completion with a distinctive chime before opening the shaft door. Advertisements for various products would undoubtedly be displayed on the miniature screen hanging at the top of the cabin's rear wall if someone hadn't damaged the picture tube long ago.

The three-hundred-story climb took less than a minute. Unfortunately, the tremendous speed, despite modern stabilizers, made Sean even more nauseous. He ran outside the building and fought his stomach for a long time before the fresh air stabilized the situation. He leaned against a parked vehicle and waited, breathing heavily, to regain his strength. A group of homeless people emerged from a nearby alley. The lower city had enough apartments to accommodate everyone, but some people, uncomfortable in confined and cramped spaces, were drawn to the vast spaces and became street nomads, moving their entire lives between the ubiquitous buildings.

An elderly woman wearing faux wool—which, incidentally, no one in their right mind used anymore, as it was too strong an allergen for most organisms—separated herself from the group and approached Sean. She stopped a few meters away, leaning against the rusting remains of a bygone lamppost. Something about the man caught her attention, and she studied him intently, her gaze obscured by a distinct haze, likely caused by the use of cheap pseudo-narcotics. A substitute for true intoxication was offered by substances sold illegally in old-fashioned shops, thus making up for the losses caused by the introduction of innovative shopping methods that didn't require human intermediaries between the customer and the factory.

"What are you doing here alone at this hour?" she asked.

Silence. He didn't answer. He despised her because she was inferior. He felt lousy, and on top of that, the city's poor had dared to accost him. He clenched his fists to calm himself. With each passing year, his nerves were becoming increasingly difficult to control.

"Have you ever heard of the thing on high?" she added.

Of course, it didn't end there. This was merely the beginning of a long, deeply philosophical lecture. Fortunately, the preamble was enough to immerse Sean in his thoughts on the proposed topic. The High City was practically a legend by now. For thousands of years, no one had managed to get there, and no one had ever left. Long ago, when the world was so overpopulated that it had essentially become one vast metropolis, and in areas where suitable conditions existed, there was no square meter of building space left, humanity began expanding in a different direction—upward. The arduous climb was no longer sufficient when it turned out that it took too long to return from the summit to the surface.

The discovery of the second millennium was durabreton—a building material that thickened and became a virtually unbreakable shell in a fraction of a second when exposed to fire. This invention allowed engineers to create the Roof—an endless dome located many kilometers above the Earth and parallel to its surface.

"They say the wealthiest were assigned and climbed above the roof...

And the rest stayed below. For a while, supposedly, there was a trade-off—someone got promoted and moved up, someone broke the law, and was sent down. When the terrified citizens of the upper city realized the cruelty of the punishment, crime stopped, or at least the exiles stopped. Now, if the rumors are to be believed, there's no contact between the upper and lower levels. The wealthy officials above left most of humanity unattended. Fortunately, the lower levels were also inhabited by hundreds of talented scientists who saved society from ruin caused by the problems posed by the Roof.

Enough.

" "Shut up," Sean shouted.

The woman fell silent instantly, her eyes fixed on the street. The only sound came from the repulsor engines of various vehicles whizzing by somewhere high above them. Silence.

"You wouldn't want to…" the nomad tried to start again.

"I told you to shut up," Sean replied calmly, and started toward the building entrance.

When he turned around, the woman grabbed his hand, and he couldn't ignore it. He spun around and, in one swift movement, slapped her hard across the face. She only hesitated for a moment before she retaliated. The man quickly pulled out a gun and placed the barrel against her stomach. She didn't have time to gasp before he pulled the trigger three times, then ran through the front door into his skyscraper. He couldn't let anyone see him, so he took the stairs up several flights. Then he called the elevator and directed it to the target floor. He exited the elevator, sat down on the remains of the dispatcher's drinks, and waited for the adrenaline to subside.

He smiled faintly. Although he wasn't fond of killing, this gave him a chance to make sure he wasn't out of practice with his shooting skills, and yet another raid was fast approaching, as they were running out of money. They'd have to rob someone to buy the necessities of life.

A woman who had dared to treat him disrespectfully a few minutes ago was walking toward the elevator. He stood up and blocked her path, so she tried to enter the stairwell. This time, he blocked her path again, grabbed her arm firmly, and pushed her. The force of the impact only caused the victim to fall halfway down the stairs. She fainted, or was simply too paralyzed with fear to move. In either case, she would certainly treat him with more respect now. He returned to the others.

"What took so long?" Tom asked immediately after his companion entered the room.

"I couldn't get myself together – under no circumstances was he allowed to blurt out that he'd used his weapon in public." "I sat outside for a moment."

The leader looked into his eyes, though he knew the colored contacts would mask their true expression, so he wouldn't notice anything unusual. Sean smiled uncertainly and immediately regretted it.

"Stop being so fucking happy. You know the rules, I reminded you before I left," he continued his lecture.

"I know the rules, but nothing bad happened. Everything is perfectly fine.

" "You don't know that. If something goes wrong, you'll honestly regret it. You know how these kinds of things can end. The last thing we need is another move to another neighborhood, especially now – before the robbery."

Kitty and David watched the scene with mocking smiles. They'd seen Tom's fatherly instincts awaken hundreds of times. Even though he was only a few years older, he scolded them like a new dad. He himself seemed oblivious to his overprotective nature; quite the opposite—he seemed to take his role very seriously.

When he was sure the carefree atmosphere had completely vanished, he released Anne and rose from the couch. He sat down on the counter, which lowered the ceiling by a few centimeters under his weight. Sean took the only proper seat. Tom loved to become the focal point of the semicircle of his listeners and would sometimes fly into a rage when someone forgot his habits.

He had curly hair. One curl, pure white, stood out against the rest, which were dark. When he tried to emphasize the gravity of the situation, he would passionately twirl it between his fingers. Whether he did this consciously, the group had yet to determine. Tom used to say that all his hair used to be that color because everyone is born with the hair that best symbolizes their personality, and therefore, if he had been born in a different era, he would certainly have become a priest or a well-behaved scientist – they couldn't believe it.

"I've given it a lot of thought," he began. "I've come to the conclusion that time flies, and who knows what the situation will be like for us and those around us in a few years. I've decided it's time for a career-ending action." No one dared interrupt him. "Frankly, I've had enough of this too. I've gotten lazy, so with your help, I intend to pull off one last daring heist that will allow us to live the rest of our lives in luxury."

Silence; he seemed to be expecting a specific question.

"So, what do you want to attack?" Kitty asked. She was closest to him, so she didn't have to fear reprisals.

Silence again. A showpiece.

"Cadaver Company."

Surprise, disapproving voices. Even without a moment's silence, the proposal would have knocked them off their feet. The proposed victim was one of the three largest global corporations. They began as manufacturers of cybernetic limbs equipped with hundreds of different enhancements, mandatory equipment for every modern mercenary. Over time, they expanded their offerings: implants, skill chips, weapons. The name remained only out of sentiment, as weapons were currently their greatest source of income. It is said that the corporation's headquarters is the most heavily guarded place in Lower Town. Even if he wanted to attack the local distributor of their products, it would be a very dangerous and demanding task. A moment's reflection led to a disturbing conclusion – the local shop couldn't provide them with the required sum of money. So…

"Headquarters, regional office."

Everyone, as if on cue, slumped back, resting their heads on the seatbacks. They were professionals, they knew their stuff, they liked risk and adrenaline, but this particular plan offered significantly less chance of survival than those they'd implemented so far. David was the first to voice his opinion.

"Fuck, I'm out.

" "Easy, just don't get worked up. I've thought this through carefully, and I know it's the only right solution," Tom replied. "You know we can do this. We have the skills, we have the teamwork, we have the experience. We've never been out of our own dens, we haven't gotten involved in local street wars. We're like ghosts; the police have nothing but vague descriptions matching thousands of people like us. Finally—no one's ever tried this before, we'll surprise them.

" "I agree with David. I don't like this idea," Kitty interjected.

Nothing is impossible. However, force was out of the question. If they could get in unnoticed and get the job done, they had a chance. The problem was that they usually did the opposite – loud and fast. They were gone before the workers had a chance to recover. The verb "planning" took on a whole new meaning now. Lots of scheming, little killing – that was Sean's thing, and he couldn't resist.

"I'm all for it."

The other three looked at him. Even his contact lenses couldn't hide his enthusiasm, and his broad smile looked genuine.

"Sure – it's a big challenge, an even bigger risk, but what we've been doing for so many years has become monotonous," Sean replied to his friends' silent question. "Tom's got a point. In a few years, we might not be healthy enough to continue the heists. Let's show a little intelligence for once and, unlike other gangs, do something to prevent this from happening."

"What? Group suicide?" Kitty asked.

"No. Something not only us but even those at Cadaver won't soon forget," Tom interjected.

"Exactly. Let's show people that nothing is an untouchable monolith," Sean added.

"Even at the cost of your own life? Are you in such a hurry to get to the other side?" David approached the window.

"Even at the cost of your own life. None of us ever sought fame, and we still don't care. It's all about the money, and that will set us up for the very end. Aren't you tempted by that prospect? Besides, remember that we'll be able to say to each other—we kicked the asses of those who make others shudder," Sean replied, and began searching for his notebook in the pile of debris on the floor.

Silence fell, broken only by the steady shuffle of objects being moved. Kitty looked lost in thought, a thought she rarely caught in. David left the room. Sean exchanged a brief glance with Tom. They were convinced the others wouldn't break through. They even managed to find the notebook. Sean, the team's IT equipment specialist, plugged a cable from the computer's network module into his forearm and dove into the CyberNet to gather preliminary data on the desired company branch. Fearing any unprepared attack on even the most lightly secured sections of the server, he limited himself to downloading unclassified information. Sorting and discarding all unnecessary junk took a long time, so the others went to bed. David didn't return. Once Sean had obtained everything that could be useful, he erased traces of his presence in the corporate system and left the network. He hadn't broken any major regulations, so this time he didn't have to worry about tracking programs. He fell asleep satisfied with the results of his work.

David didn't return until the morning and immediately revealed the results of his thoughts.

"Unfortunately, I'm out after all," he said bluntly. "

It's your decision, and there's nothing I can do about it." I'm not happy about it because you're complicating matters, but I can respect it. It's just a shame you're leaving when we need you most," Tom replied.

"You know perfectly well I'm not leaving to spite you, but because you've lost your minds. I'm sure there's someone out there who would like to use my services. Despite what we've been through together, I don't feel obligated to stay with you when you're at your lowest.

" "We're just reaching our peak, my dear," Kitty added, giving him one of her ironic smiles.

"The moment I heard Sean agree to this action, I knew I wouldn't be able to change your minds, so be it. You want to get yourselves killed—go ahead. I'm not in for it."

"You're just scared, so spare us your lectures," Sean said.

David ran up to him and punched him in the chin. The artificial limb struck him in the jaw at high speed. He landed on the counter, his repulsors shutting down under the force. He fell to the floor with a thud and received another round of blows, this time with his leg. Kitty threw a heavy clock that came to her hand first, but David deftly avoided the blow. He spun ninety degrees and at the same time drew his semi-automatic H&K.

"Easy!" Tom shouted, aiming his own prehistoric nine at the attacker. "Are you all completely fucked?! You want to leave, go ahead, but get the hell out of here before I go berserk!"

David, after a moment's hesitation, left the room, followed by the group's gaze.

"Fuck!" Tom continued when they were alone. "What's gotten into you?!" Do you all want to kill each other before we even try to come up with a sensible plan of action?

"He started it," Sean groaned, justifying himself. He was already on his feet, struggling to maintain his balance. His head throbbed with a dull pain.

"It doesn't matter who started it, what matters is how it could have ended. In any case, we won't see him again, so let's get to work."

A moment later, the entire incident forgotten, they got to work. Sean presented the data they had obtained. It showed that equipment of all kinds, manufactured in factories located in almost every major district of Lowtown, was transported to the Central Branches, where it was sorted and then shipped to stores and Product Distribution Points.

Although hours of debate yielded no concrete solutions, everyone was certain that the only solution was to infiltrate the local factory. They had to get on board a transport that would take them unnoticed to their destination. There, two further challenges awaited them: traveling to the vault, emptying it, and escaping. They agreed they lacked information, so the next step was Sean's. An uncontrolled access to the local factory server shouldn't pose any problems, but an attack on the nearest Center's subnet required a greater effort and a fair amount of luck.

The

very next day, a copy of the data from the factory hard drives was in their possession. Kitty and Tom began interpreting and analyzing it, while Sean began preparations for another intrusion. He purchased a new network connector with a lower latency factor. He visited dozens of illegal cybernet libraries, expanding his knowledge of the latest security measures. Writing both offensive and defensive programs took a week.

Finally, he declared himself ready. He plugged the cable into the socket on his forearm and initiated the login process. Before his mind plunged into the bottomless pits of the cybernet, he managed to catch someone saying, "Hang in there." He activated his own icon configuration, giving it an inconspicuous appearance. He replaced the actual performance information for his own hardware with less obvious ones and ensured that all the necessary software was in place.

In the blink of an eye, he landed on a traffic-free sector of the network via the Pacific, Asian, Australian, and South Polar nodes. He launched a program that would hinder the hunters' work. Before he knew it, he had circled the cybernet globe three times, logging out and logging in at hundreds of random locations. Then he reached the American node. A few more directives directed him directly to the Eastern American subnode. There, he activated a tracking module, which, using previously recorded information, allowed him to reach the gates of the Cadaver subnet.

The server was grandly named Titan. No amount of processing power was spared to make the environment visually appealing. Icons of random passersby moved among flower-filled avenues and fountains spouting unimaginably blue water. The server's appearance also left little to be desired. This offered hope that the system would be weakened by the load.

Sean activated the encryption of his signal. His icon became completely invisible to standard modems. At a location chosen several days earlier during surveillance, he released a worm into the gateway, which penetrated its interior and then sent contradictory instructions to all segments of the subnet. This effectively distracted security and allowed for a forced breach of the barrier elsewhere. Worms were such a common occurrence that their appearance within the system didn't require increased vigilance on the part of the defenders.

He'd gotten inside, but he hadn't expected this stage to pose any problems. He knew that if he failed to obtain the necessary information now, the plan would fall apart. Hacking into the same corporate systems a second time, regardless of whether the breach occurred in the same branch or in two different locations in different parts of the world, was in most cases suicidal. He looked around. Yellow section, medium security. From such locations, the hacker would support the attacking team from outside, disabling all security measures, such as cameras. Sean's target this time was the red section, where the most heavily guarded information was usually located. Such locations cost enormous sums of money, and only the largest institutions could afford to maintain them.

He found the terminal. Using his own decryptors, he accessed the information in the yellow section. He consulted a map of the server complex and knew how to get to the red section. He set and suppressed the component's self-destruct process. He delayed the launch by 15 minutes—the right amount of time, he calculated, so that a premature failure wouldn't reveal his unauthorized presence in the system, and too late would allow his identification.

He froze. Kitty and Tom, watching his movements on the monitor, did the same. A sniffer, a mere observer patrolling the area, was approaching him. Sean hadn't anticipated its presence in this part of the yellow section. He knew his code would go undetected, but the program would surely detect the intrusion into the terminal. There was no time left to activate the pre-built software, so he launched the console and began writing an algorithm that would numb the detector. His fingers shook as he typed each character at a rapid pace. The group clenched their fists tightly as they watched hundreds of letters swirl across the display. They knew that if they failed and were discovered, they would be surrounded by the corporate military within minutes and sentenced to death, just like Sean. These days, no one cared about human rights anymore.

Run. Fuck, no effect! He activated the debugger. The system searched the entire textual form of the application for errors. One, correction, two, correction, three, correction. Run. Still nothing! A frantic search for a place to improve, no ideas. Run. No change. Sean immediately decided to stay. He rushed towards one of the locked rooms in the yellow section, where he began loading the software needed for the next phase of the attack.

The Titan triggered an alarm, so they already knew he was inside. Hopefully, they wouldn't bother browsing the terminals for the next several minutes... Perhaps they wouldn't look for him in the red section, mistaking him for a typical burglar seeking thrills, not death. This was his only chance for survival.

Three worms had entered the system's core through the wall between the sections. Now his rivals would ensure he remained inside despite detection. He waited a moment for his toys to replicate and read the alarm code built into the red section's barrier. He activated the console again and began adding an antidote to the problem to one of his break-through programs. Compiling and executing it, the alarm was deactivated, and the barrier itself was breached. He entered. For the first and likely last time in his life, he found himself inside the red section of the subnet. He felt the signal coding cease to produce any results, and he became visible to those around him.

He looked around. Seeing no danger, he headed in the right direction. He needed to reach the only red terminal where he could copy the necessary information. He left several real icon emulators along the way to distract the defenders. He didn't stop, knowing how crucial time was now. He reached the terminal section without any major problems. He managed to deactivate one of the now-loaded applications with a sniffer he encountered along the way.

He opened the door to the room with the desired component, and when he entered, a section of the red section revealed itself to be the legendary… black section. How much money must they make if they can afford such security in regional branches? Sean knew nothing about sections of this level, because either no one had managed to escape, or the survivors were unwilling to share their hard-earned knowledge. The first option seemed to be the door, which had fused with the barrier during the unauthorized intrusion. Sean looked around. In the opposite corner of the room, an unidentified icon burned with a warning flame. A warning beep sounded, signaling the type of program it presented. It was a killer, the most dangerous of defenders. Firstly, such applications attempted to burn out the hacker residing in CyberNet, leading to the death of his mind, and consequently, his body. Secondly, they were unpredictable. Each was written to the individual needs of the system, so there was no universal counter-program.

They were rare. The only solution, even for the most skilled users, was escape. Unfortunately, in the current situation, that option was out of the question. Sean felt the characteristic drop in speed that occurred when overloaders began to operate around him. The system was trying to overload his modem, slowing his reaction time as much as possible. Tom and Kitty gripped each other's hands tightly. They knew that while time on the Cybernet moved only slightly faster than it did outside, the battle itself, which would decide their fate, was governed by different laws and would last a fraction of a second.

Killer circled the intruder, trying to scan his form, hoping to uncover information that might tip the scales in his favor. Sean did the same. When he got the results, his excitement gave way to sheer terror. The enemy's performance was unimaginably superior to that of his equipment. He switched his modem to delayed binary mode, thus initiating the battle. He fired up all firewalls and dodged the first attack from the enemy, which attempted to make contact with his icon. He moved forward, aiming his sensors at the ground. The surroundings were unscannable, so he couldn't hack into the core from here and disable Killer. He stopped and turned toward him.

The program's icon depicted a black-furred, drooling bull terrier. Sean sent a block of data at it, intended to interrupt the program. It had no effect. The dog lunged at him again. Two other blocks also failed. In a last desperate attempt, he fired a beam of electricity. Killer dodged to the side, then lunged at his victim, disappearing from view. After a moment, Sean felt the defender attempting to access the modem's circuitry through his icon to trigger a lethal short circuit.

He turned on the terminal again. By connecting with his avatar, the rival revealed its code, opening the way for him to write a suitable destructor. Time was the only thing that mattered. Although Sean was doing his best, he seemed to be losing the race. Furthermore, as time passed, the modem began to drop more and more packets, forcing the programmer to return to the same sections of the application several times. He felt himself losing touch with reality. Typing each word required more concentration and commitment. Conflicting signals began to reach his mind.

He saw absurd scenes, randomly pieced together from his own memories. This was clearly his body's defense against the electrical impulses reaching his brain from the already-attacked modem. Suddenly and unexpectedly, he lost his network vision. He had to write the program "by heart," and besides, he wouldn't be able to diagnose any errors. A growing heat around his nose enveloped him, which exploded into pain. At that moment, he activated the destructor he was writing. He regained visibility, switched the modem to standard mode, and reached the terminal. Copying the data took 30 seconds. He was cut off from his exit, leaving the only option to escape through the circuits of the attacked Titan. He set up a queue of applications, clearly sensing that something was wrong and that after escaping the subnet, he might not have the strength to activate further applications. He started the queue and a second later emerged from the CyberNet.

He fell out of his chair and vomited. He felt a throbbing pain in his eye socket, and warm blood streamed down his face. The pressure was so intense that his eyeball practically exploded. He lost consciousness.

He

woke up many hours later after Kitty administered the appropriate medication.

When they were just starting out, traveling the length and breadth of the surrounding areas, they once came upon a port. Although cruising through the disgustingly blue, foaming waters wasn't the most pleasant experience, they decided to go because they didn't have much to do with their extra money. They boarded a large speedboat with a group of other people. The boat's driver started the engines, and they began to move away from the shore. Sean happened to notice a woman walking among the buildings of the receding port.

She was undeniably beautiful. He remembered her long, golden, curly hair most vividly, seemingly radiant. Her shapely figure and, despite the considerable distance, her clearly noticeable attractive face made him want to jump out and swim for shore. Only the roar of the propellers a few meters below distracted him from putting his decision into action. He later regretted it.

The curls falling into her dark brown eyes (he could have sworn he noticed their color) haunted his dreams almost every night. For some inexplicable reason, his body refused to let him forget the nymph he'd seen. He unconsciously immersed himself in thoughts of her on various occasions. Now that he'd lost an eye, the time he'd had to wake up was also shortened by the images of her that filled his vision.

He couldn't see anything; they'd bandaged his entire face.

"Bravo, champ," Tom said, tapping him on the shoulder.

"Did it work?" Sean asked, not entirely convinced of the success of his action.

"It couldn't have been otherwise, after all, you were behind the wheel. They either kept it secret, or they're already talking about you in the news. Either way, in certain circles, you're an anonymous legend now. "

"What about the data? Were they damaged by a minor electrical short circuit?

" "My first inspection suggests not. You can check it more thoroughly yourself when you're able. "

A moment of silence.

"David's back," Tom continued. "He robbed some budding businessman. It turns out he carried everything he owned in a briefcase. He took the money and is here with us, although he's currently arranging for your cybereye implant.

" "Prodigal son." Sean rolled over, signaling that he'd had enough of the conversation. Moving his lips caused pain in his eye socket.

The cybereye wasn't a bad idea. He'd request a built-in optical sight, infrared or ultraviolet, and what's more, his vision would sharpen. He had nothing to lose except a little humanity. He fell asleep.

***

Time passed in preparations. Although all four of them had reconciled, tensions between David and Sean grew as the situation developed. The slightest disagreement often led to arguments and even fights. Tom was concerned about the success of the operation, but he hoped they would demonstrate the necessary professionalism throughout.

The data proved complete. They had everything they needed: plans for both the local factory and the regional dispatch center, guard schedules, and a detailed transport schedule. Among the information, they also found account numbers for branch managers and a list of recorded expenses, allowing them to conclude that a huge number of corporate militiamen were searching for them even now. Sean logged out of Titan through its nodes. Such an operation was bound to leave some traces, but he had no choice. The question was: how much did they know about them, and did they have any leverage in the ongoing investigation?

They were alive, breathing, and feeling no worse than before, so they concluded they still had a chance of avoiding punishment. Kitty smiled more often than usual, and Tom was more often than usual engaging in daring play with her before their eyes. Aside from the occasional arguments between Sean and David, everyone was in good spirits.

After several weeks, hours of evening discussions yielded the desired results. A plan was drafted, a detailed scenario of the action. It took over a month to refine the details, as they tried to anticipate everything. Sean created simulations on his equipment to eliminate design flaws. They also learned their roles in the complex performance from computer simulations. The theater, empty of spectators and an incredibly slippery stage, was fast approaching. Excitement turned to anxiety, the atmosphere thickened, arguments were common, and nervousness took its toll on everyone.

Two days before Zero Hour, they celebrated the end of the arduous first phase with a bang. They spent most of the last twenty-four hours vomiting and nursing stomachs. They slept for several hundred minutes leading up to the action, resting their muscles, joints, and above all, their nerves.

The computer's alarm clock roused them with a loud beep. They donned leather, the only clothing they believed would be suitable for combat. The bright, baggy clothes were conspicuous, especially at night. Tom used to say that the tight leather around his body reminded them of the need for caution and increased concentration. He was right. As long as the situation didn't require doing the splits, the material worked well on the battlefield.

They took a city bus, practically empty at that hour, to the vicinity of their designated spot. To be safe, they got off two blocks early and walked the last stretch of road that led between the facades of buildings disappearing high above. They saw guards in every alleyway, loud footsteps echoed everywhere, and every passerby seemed to be watching them. These sensations were familiar and unfazed. When adrenaline surges, fear and anxiety subside

.

The factory was large, located in the center of a square overgrown with artificial grass, a dozen times its size. Perhaps the corporation wanted to leave room for expansion, but that didn't matter at the moment. The group moved into an alleyway that housed the entrance to an old service pit of the nearby subway. The show was to begin there. They stood close together and joined hands. Tom smiled broadly and said,

"We do what we have to do and disappear forever." He eyed them carefully. "I'd ask if any of you want to back down, but at this point, I'd have to kill anyone who doesn't."

Despite his gleeful expression, it was clear he wasn't joking this time.

"Everyone knows what they're supposed to do. We've been through this hundreds of times, so it has to work. We'll show those bastards how to fight for what's theirs!" he concluded as loudly as the situation allowed.

He was answered by smiles and voices of support. They checked that the weapons and specialized equipment purchased a few days earlier were in place. Everyone confirmed their readiness, and all, except David, put on their communicators. He didn't need to – the appropriate implant for this purpose was already inside his head. He kicked open the old, rotten wooden door and they entered, aware that their entire future, or lack thereof, depended on the next few dozen minutes.

***

The beginning wasn't demanding. Sean used a decoder to open a secured door leading underground, and down a long, slippery staircase, they entered a now-disused subway tunnel. Despite the complete safety, they felt uneasy, knowing that large, speeding beasts had passed through here some time ago. It was dark, photon flashlights illuminated their path. They headed east, where they found the expected air conditioning terminal. Despite the mine being closed, the enormous fans were still running, cooling the factory basements located several dozen meters away. Sean hacked into a small computer and paused the system for two minutes, simultaneously deactivating sensors to prevent security above from noticing the anomaly.

The door to the next room flew off its hinges with a loud bang. The four of them entered the shaft, moving as quickly as possible away from the entrance, lest the fans, about to turn on, suck them in and dismember them. Even the lazily moving blades of such size were deadly. They struggled to climb upward. The steel tunnels were covered with moisture-inducing algae submerged in the shallow water at their bottom. A misstep could result in death. They were not afraid; they had bigger problems on their minds.

What if someone was already waiting for them there? They couldn't rule out the possibility that Cadaver's management had dismissed the possibility that the break-in had been caused by, say, a rival corporation, and had instead accepted a different hypothesis as true—one that required double the guard. All the simulations would have yielded no results if guards had appeared in locations not specifically planned.

Kitty slipped, using her own hands to save herself from falling flat on her face. Dark sunglasses, equipped with an optical sight connected to her favorite H&K semi-automatic with an echo-enhanced boom, tumbled down the stairs. The others tried to ignore it. At this point, everyone had to watch out for themselves. The increasing stuffiness and musty smell indicated they were heading in the right direction and approaching the exit. Soon, the tunnel branched into smaller ones, and Tom continued to choose his direction flawlessly. The grate covering the exit was small, but even the broad-shouldered David should have had no trouble avoiding it. Sean neutralized the motion detectors and unscrewed the shaft cover. They entered a dark basement, essentially a storage room. No one was visiting here anymore; the old warehouse had lost its significance, and the only things left inside were useless piles of rusted metal objects. A tiny cleaner was scrubbing the dirty floor with a tiny brush somewhere in the distance, making a distinctive humming sound.

The introduction ended here; the real problems could only begin now. Following the established order, covering each other's backs, they searched the entire room for precautions. They sat down. They remained silent, trying to calm down and relax. They synchronized their watches with Tom's at three o'clock, when the nightlife outside had already died down. The next step was Sean's; he and David had to get to one of the maintenance rooms.

They quietly opened the door at the top of the stairs, their eyes adjusting to the light. They emerged into the hallway—as they had predicted: empty. They ran for several segments, taking advantage of the opportunity. The guard shift was just changing, so no one could interrupt them. They reached their chosen room. Sean quietly forced the lock, and the two entered. The three men, wearing headphones, watched the readings displayed on the monitors. They sat with their backs to the intruders. David closed the door. At a steady pace, they approached the console and twisted two of the technicians' throats. The third received a sharp blow to the head and lost consciousness. They tied him up and hid the bodies as best they could. Sean, using the code numbers he'd obtained during the break-in into the black section, logged into the system. He examined the camera images, and when he deemed the way clear, he remotely switched on the lights in the abandoned warehouse. Tom and Kitty, on a prearranged signal, ran towards their hideout.

"What about time?" David asked.

"Everything's according to plan. Could you please stop interrupting me now?"

David grimaced, but didn't say a word. Sean had copied all the daily-changed codes used to open the factory's security doors, and he had also cut power to the cameras and dormant probes, which would become a serious problem if the alarm were triggered. They only had a few minutes before the guards realized this wasn't a simple malfunction. The entire group had to be on board the soon-to-be-departed cargo transport by then.

"Okay, everything's ready. Now we just have to catch the train," Sean said, after making sure he'd done everything he had to. Tom and Kitty, who were now running into the cramped room, were grinning broadly.

They knew the layout of the corridors perfectly, so the sprint toward the large hangar didn't take them long. They took up their designated positions by the door, and David planted the charge a few dozen meters away. The explosion distracted the guards, allowing the entire group to slip inside and prepare for the inevitable firefight. Four out of fifteen, they were already handling larger groups. It all depended on the locals' training.

Numerous boxes of sealed weapons and other goods provided ideal cover from enemy fire. A train hovering above a large steel rail waited for the signal to depart from the control room.

Tom fired first and scored first. The fact that something was wrong with the security detail didn't need to be repeated. The roar of gunfire mingled with the shouts of higher-ranking officers dictating orders. While his support crews fired continuously in random directions, Sean, using the infrared detector he'd received with his new eye, sought out targets and eliminated them one by one. Resistance was fading, and so was the ammunition.

The situation was becoming dangerous, as lack of ammunition meant death. A loud signal didn't allow them to ponder this any longer—the train was slowly moving. Command had likely decided to force an early departure, forced by the attack.

"Catch the train!" Tom shouted, fighting against the deafening noise.

Covering each other with short bursts of suppressive fire, they retreated rapidly toward the tracks. They managed to safely climb onto the roof, where nothing could harm them. It was too late to harm them. The steel hull provided excellent shelter. Sean lowered himself onto a platform located next to the side door on the opposite side of the vehicle and tapped into the train's circuits. He quickly managed to open the locked door to the interior. He hacked into the unit's decision-making computer, which, given the codes he had, wasn't difficult—all the programs identified him as one of his own. He turned off the lights in the hangar and connected the previously prepared recordings to the camera feed. Once everyone was inside and the train had left the factory, he logged out of the subnet.

The cameras showed them fleeing the complex toward the city. Much depended on whether the employees would recognize the hoax. In such a case, they would be greeted at the regional branch by a large force, which they would certainly be unable to handle. Tom smiled again.

"Piece of cake," Kitty said, hugging him tightly.

"You know damn well the real fun's just beginning," David commented.

"Stop that bullshit. You've been doing nothing else lately.

" "Because I know my fate is at stake now, and I'd feel a hell of a lot better if you focused on what we're doing, or will be doing.

" "Don't lecture him, he knows what he's doing," Sean interrupted, though he shouldn't have. Since David left, he'd been unable to communicate with him, and every word he said drove him crazy.

"No one asked you for your opinion," Sean replied, looking him straight in the eye.

"Shut up. Let's get the job done, and then you can even kill each other," Tom shouted. He walked over to one of the crates in the wagon. "Get the ammo and anything else you might need that doesn't weigh too much."

They didn't find many shells, but with a bit of luck, even this much should be enough. Rifles, pistols, and even heavy weapons were plentiful. They felt so attached to their toys, which had always accompanied them on missions, that they hadn't considered trading them in for anything else. Only David had appropriated one of the heavy machine guns.

Sean stuck his head out the wide-open door. The train, hurtling at lightning speed, passed numerous buildings, apartment complexes, and stations. The cool air ruffled his hair. His other passion, besides computers, were cars. He loved the rush, so he immediately relaxed and calmed down. The others tried to do the same, fully aware that the journey on the corporate freighter might be their last. The destination slowly appeared in the distance.

***

What started as a small dot grew with distance, only to become a massive building with thousands of windows and an area of ​​at least tens of thousands of square meters. Atop the vibrant logo was a large screen displaying the company's latest products. Three large unmanned aircraft circled the branch office, trailing displays with changing advertising slogans. Hundreds of constantly moving spotlights illuminated the walls, which were also covered with numerous laser graphics. No expense was spared in the interior. The exterior was modern to the point of being monumental and austere, yet lavishly furnished.

As it soon became clear, even more money had been invested in the interior. The tunnel was bustling with traffic. Trains arrived, others departed, sliding into precisely measured loading bays located between the durastecrete platforms. The four of them immediately jumped from the wagon, taking advantage of the cover provided by the nearby transporters, and made their way to the exit, skillfully passing well-known points where numerous guards monitored the complex's security.

The next room was even larger. The rectangular room must have housed those responsible for deciding where the goods would be shipped. The group found themselves above it, separated by a glass floor, beneath which hundreds of local workers were clearly visible. They pressed themselves against the wall and moved eastward, praying that no one would accidentally peek into the unused room or glance high above them. Sean breached the security door, and they all entered the small warehouse. Every fortress had to have its weak point, and according to the data gathered, this four-by-five-meter room was precisely the Achilles' heel of the Cadaver branch. It had been withdrawn from circulation, but the technicians had forgotten about the so-called "secret" (or "secret"). A tourist nest that allowed a skilled IT specialist to access the system. Sean connected and reached the yellow section. Something creaked. Behind the shelf they had moved, a dark space appeared: the shaft of an old freight elevator. Tom, Kitty, and David began descending a dangerously unstable ladder, leaving Sean alone with the system.

The descent took an incredibly long time. Hooks driven into the wall threatened to detach and plunge them into a deep chasm. Even though they only had a dozen or so floors to climb, as their goal was the building's underground levels, they had already exhausted themselves.

"Okay, Sean, open up. We're here," Tom said over the comm.

The elevator doors opened, and the group deftly jumped into the corridor beyond.

"Clear?" David asked.

"Absolutely. Get to work."

They split up, as was the plan. Sean was doing his best to distract any guards who might disrupt this phase of the operation: he restarted cameras, conducted probes, crashed computers, and set off false alarms. Curtains on the windows closed and opened, elevators ran back and forth without stopping between floors, and floating signs in front of the building displayed obscene slogans.

"In place.

" "Ready.

" "I'm here.

" Three voices spoke on the comm channel in rapid succession. Building security was bending over backwards to block external access to the system, but the problem, well hidden, was inside. They didn't suspect infiltration or sabotage, so all preventative measures were misguided. David, Kitty, and Tom, led by Sean's hand, struggled from three widely separated emergency terminals to obtain the codes for the elevator leading to the vault. It didn't take long.

"Okay, I see you have what it takes. You know where to meet."

"We'll wait for you, unaccounted for," Tom added.

They had to completely disorient the enemy, and weeks of planning had yielded no better ideas than to create a pileup of incoming and outgoing transports. Sean had never told the others that there was no chance of remaining hidden once he logged into their control system. This solution was the only one with a chance of success, so he kept the information to himself to avoid giving them any excuse to object. They would probably only care about success, not his survival, but changing this plan could lead to disaster.

"Show me what you're made of, elite," he said to himself, grinning broadly.

***

"Boss, we have unauthorized entry into the control module. Tourist nest in section C-7.

" "The son of a bitch is inside! Order a level three alert, halt track traffic, send three infiltration teams, block his escape route. He might not be alone—release probes. Move, people!" the visibly worried officer shouted orders one after another.

"The thing has assumed superuser rights, we have no control over it," someone said from across the large room where the entire team overseeing the complex's security was gathered.

"Disable that damned traffic! And let the Cyberion slackers take care of it immediately!

" "They're working on it, but it's good. It's entrenched itself, overriding our security measures one by one.

" "Don't tell me some loser is trying to blow up half our train cars.

" "Looks like it, he's taking control of the entire command module," another voice replied.

"Cut off the power to the guide rails immediately!" the officer shouted.

The lights in the room went out. One of the women squealed.

"What's that supposed to mean?

" "I'm afraid the object cut us off.

" "What about the guide rails?

" "I didn't make it, everything happened too fast," a contrite voice replied.

"Fucking hell!"

The officer rushed toward the door. He ran, running. A dozen or so seconds later, he was on the balcony overlooking the loading station. For a moment, everything seemed normal. Later, as the track components began to increase or decrease the intensity of the generated field, trains flew off their routes in random directions, destroying equipment and demolishing walls. Dozens of expensive trains were scrapped. A series of explosions so powerful that a wave several dozen meters above the platforms knocked an officer over and shook the building. The unmanned trains only began to stop after a dozen or so seconds, when the torn tracks no longer provided any lift. Those outside the tunnel, on the hills, slid sideways and fell to the ground. Hundreds of kilograms of iron left the steel containers and scattered around the area.

The officer froze for only a moment. The pulsing anger within him exploded, and he rushed back toward the room occupied by his men. The emergency power had already been restored, as all the computers were back online. The workers stared at him frantically, some simply staring straight ahead.

"Tell the infiltrators I want him here alive. Add to that their heads will roll for his corpse," he hissed.

"Yes, sir," replied someone who had recovered.

"The son of a bitch will remember me, he won't forget me for the rest of his life, and since that won't last long, I'll make sure he thinks briefly but intensely."

No one doubted those words. The woman who had squealed when the light went out began to cry.

***

Sean's smile widened as he descended the ladder down the shaft. They couldn't handle it; weeks of preparation hadn't been wasted. Gunfire rang out over the comm.

"We're here, opposite the elevator. Get moving," Tom said.

"I'll be there soon."

He turned off his communicator. He didn't count on surviving the next few minutes, and he didn't want to distract the others. They'd decide something was wrong and move on without him; it was better that way. In one swift movement, he jumped out of the shaft into the appropriate corridor. A loud thud brought him back to his senses. He turned and pressed his back against the door behind him. He rushed into the currently empty room, closed it, and flattened himself against the wall. He heard footsteps approaching, and also heard the indistinct statements of the people just beyond. He regained his composure and rushed to the terminal. Section Yellow. When he heard sounds echoing inside the shaft, he closed it and activated the elevator. He ran out of the room and spotted a guard banging on the door through which his squad had disappeared. Sean kicked him hard, and then, before he could react, drew his pistol and pulled the trigger. He removed his helmet, along with the building's communications system, from the victim and took his rifle. He could hear the guards' dialogue, giving him a huge advantage. He even heard the desperate cries of soldiers who hadn't managed to escape the elevator.

He ran forward along a route he knew well. He handled the three or four guards he encountered along the way without any problems. He changed his plan. He ran, pushing through the workers, into the room he and his group had just moments earlier found themselves above – the one with the glass ceiling. He fired a full burst from his favorite semi-automatic weapon. Gradually, silence fell over the entire room, and everyone fell to the floor. Running toward the opposite door, he shot randomly at people, ensuring no one dared approach him. Twenty or thirty of the victims would allow him to get through this unscathed; most would recover from their wounds anyway.

He burst through the door with a bang and passed through corridor after corridor. He stopped abruptly only when his path was blocked by a squad of several men.

"Drop your weapon and get on the ground," shouted a tall man, armored from head to toe.

Sean ducked and immediately jumped to the side. One of the bullets hit his hand. He spotted David running toward him from the corridor he'd fled into. Their eyes didn't meet.

"Run," David shouted, before leaping straight into the security team.

He didn't have to be told twice. Driven by the pain of the gunshot, he moved in the right direction, hearing the sounds of a distant battle fading away. As he ran into the designated room, he spotted Kitty bleeding heavily in Tom's arms.

"What the fuck happened here?" he asked, concentrating on his communicator to find out what David was talking about.

"They shot me. Can't you see?" Kitty whispered.

Apparently, it really was. The abdominal cavity was bleeding profusely, the girl's blood staining the yellow carpet burgundy.

"Where's David?" Tom asked, busy bandaging her as best he could.

"I don't know. He came rushing in with that big gun of his.

" Sean turned instantly and aimed at the person who had entered the room.

"Don't scare me. And thanks for the support.

" "No problem. We'll be getting ready, they'll be here soon," David replied.

Sean gave him a friendly pat before peering out the door. All the hatred between them instantly melted. A dozen or so meters away, another obstacle awaited them: the proper guards for the elevator leading to the vault. Moreover, the opponents already knew there were at least two people in the building. Fortunately, the gunfights had shown that in the vast rooms, cheeky spontaneity triumphed over technical calculation. Even Kitty, carried on Tom's back, chimed in. The small squad quickly ended their career, accomplishing nothing but a few holes in the walls and a considerable bang.

Sean connected the decoder to the elevator door. The others stood behind him, ready to shoot anyone who dared approach. As it turned out, there were some, but they disappeared as quickly as they appeared. The small device did its job well. They entered the elevator and entered the codes they had obtained. They felt the floors fly past at lightning speed.

When the elevator stopped, they emerged and realized that no one was there anymore. They were at the top of the building, in a square room, glass-walled on one side and topped by an electronically guarded vault on the other. Cadaver hadn't invested in security on this side; he was counting on the effectiveness of the first line of defense.

Sean took care of the vault's security, while Tom took care of his shot arm. Kitty, her mouth agape, stared at the view beyond the glass. The roof. The enormous duracrete cover just above their heads, in all its glory. The material it was made of was different from the one used below—it looked different, was a different color. They had spent their entire lives aware of what lay above them, but only now had the scale of the undertaking finally sunk in. Kitty was still bleeding profusely, and David nervously paced the elevator.

"Done!" Sean shouted, leaping for joy. The data he had obtained during the attack on Titan had proven sufficient to breach the vault's security.

As the vault's doors opened, he saw three men standing guard. Before he could react, a loud bang echoed, and the men collapsed to the floor. Sean turned and saw Kitty, smiling broadly, clutching a pin. Suddenly, he felt a distinct pang in his chest, accompanying the numerous images flashing before his eyes. He approached one of the bodies and rolled it onto its back. He fell to his knees when he saw a familiar face. He had once promised himself he would never forget her.

His only childhood friend. In the hospital ward, they had always stuck together. Sean recalled scenes from the past, so intense and vivid that he wasn't sure they had ever happened. Long ago, they had promised each other they would stick together. Unfortunately, Jack had left a year earlier, and their boyhood plans proved futile when faced with the harsh reality of the streets. As it turned out, the day they were separated was their last together. He analyzed everything his eager mind was showing him.

"Are you okay?" Tom roused him from his momentary lethargy.

"No, nothing. Everything's fine. Let's finish what we started.

" "Do you have any other brilliant suggestions?" David asked.

Sean turned away, smiling, but his expression changed almost immediately. He realized he was under gunfire. He tried to reach for his gun.

"Hands up, smartass. Don't even think about it," David said.

"What are you up to?

" "Did you think I came to your rescue? Why would I? I went to talk to the locals and negotiate some terms I was interested in, for your asses, alive. Unfortunately for you, they offered me better pay.

" "And do you really think they'll let you go?" Tom asked.

"Shut up. I can take care of myself. If I were you, I'd focus on myself. I can guarantee you nothing pleasant awaits you for what you did with the shipments." I suspect they'll fire the dispatcher anyway, but before they do, the poor guy will have time to settle accounts with you.

"Fuck you," Kitty said through gritted teeth.

"The funny kitty is showing her claws. Drop your weapons," he ordered, and they obeyed, buying themselves some time.

"You've never been particularly intelligent," Sean said. "You wanted to show off how independent you are, and unfortunately, all you'll achieve is a lower self-esteem that will keep you up at night when you realize you're nothing without us.

" "Don't bother. My new friends will be here in the appointed few minutes, and I'll personally see to it that they take extra care of you. I'll just have to tell them who's directly responsible for the pileup."

"I'll end up miserable, but honorably, you son of a bitch.

" "Oh, we'll get mad," David backed away and leaned against the wall. "Let's not be childish, Sean. Just because we don't like each other isn't a good enough reason to sling mud at each other.

" "But what you're about to do is.

" "We're different, darlings, there's no denying it. You're willing to give your life for money, and I'm willing to give some of my money for life, sacrificing my friends in the process.

" "Fuck you, you bastard. You don't have any friends," Kitty shouted.

"If we're nitpicking, I never really had any, because what do we have in common besides a love of risk? When we were a bunch of teenagers, no one held my hand when I cried in the corner. We all played tough, and what good did that do? Over time, we lost everything in common except appearances.

Is he right?

" "People, open your eyes." I don't feel anything now, do you understand? Nothing! I'll be relieved to watch you leave this earthly realm. I'll consider it some kind of atonement for the lies I heard when Tom recruited me to the group.

"What lies, man? I wasn't twelve yet, so while I probably exaggerated some facts, it was only because I believed them myself. Stop talking nonsense," Tom replied, clearly indignant.

"You were yourself and you promised. It was supposed to be beautiful, you even declared you'd bring me happiness, and where is it?" David was getting angrier, his voice growing louder. "Where is that fucking happiness? I've been waiting so long for it to come and make sense of it all. Now I can't take it anymore. The sight of you guys makes me want to puke." He looked at Kitty. "Although I'd think twice about that lady.

" "Fuck you," she said again, looking him straight in the eye.

He moved toward her, a broad smile on his face. Sean discreetly moved toward the system entrance located near the safe door. David crouched over Anne, keeping an eye on the other captives.

"Listen, little one. Leave the boys and come with me. I'm offering you your freedom because I have a good heart."

Tom swung, but before he could land a blow. He was hit by the hard butt of a heavy rifle and collapsed to the ground.

"Why should I agree to your terms?" she asked.

"Because there's something intriguing about me?

" "You don't answer questions with questions, my dear," she smiled. Sean connected to the network. "Give me one really good reason and I'm yours."

He picked her up and threw her onto the wooden desk. She bounced off the counter and landed with a thud on the floor, groaning.

"I'll have better and cheaper beds without your mercy, slut." He walked over to her, slapped her in the face, and spat.

A boom echoed through the room, a terrifying roar, the sound of hundreds of bullets being fired at the bulletproof glass by three rapid-fire cannons mounted under the wings of the helicopter Sean was remotely controlling. David didn't have time to react. The glass couldn't withstand it, and the launchers, though already slowing down, had managed to reduce him to very little. Sean ran to Kitty, put his arm around her, and shouted over the roar of the rotors.

"Can you get in by yourself?"

She didn't answer, just staggered forward. Sean walked to the safe, which housed a large decision-making computer. He transferred the week's earnings to pre-arranged accounts and erased his tracks. He checked three times before he was certain he hadn't made any mistakes that could jeopardize his efforts. He hoisted the limp Tom onto his back and, trying not to look down, deftly crossed the narrow space between the helicopter and the building. He connected to the network one last time, disabling the system's tracking modules, and set the autopilot to return them to safety. He jumped into the helicopter and sat down next to Kitty.

"Sean, do you know I was stalling? It was acting, I was trying to help you," she continued to cry. He realized it was the first time he'd seen her in such a state.

"I know, Kitty, I know."

In reality, he wasn't convinced of her truthfulness. He even wondered if David, despite his lack of scruples, wasn't more trustworthy than she was. Peace never came. The operation ended, and the image of John—his hospital friend—reappeared before his eyes. They were no longer in danger. They had thumbed their noses at a corporation no one had dared to challenge before, yet the feelings on their faces were far from optimistic. Sean, too, was crying, taking advantage of the deep darkness that reigned just beneath the Canopy.

***

Something had changed. The world lost its color, even though it had always been short on it. Even money ceased to matter. The operation was a success – the proceeds were deposited into the appropriate accounts and waiting to be used. It seemed no one was tailing them, and they were recovering. Success, however, didn't save the day. Sean, in particular, couldn't get along with the others anymore. Arguments and even fights, as everyone was heavily intoxicated, were common.

Suddenly, everything they'd done lost its meaning. Twenty years of wasted life, and the same future prospects! He'd bought a new car just so he could speed past hundreds of streets, to feel, for a moment, as if he could leave everything he'd been through behind. He dreamed of a new beginning, even though common sense told him it wouldn't change anything. The world was wicked; unfortunately, there was no room for sentimentality, only a fight for survival in the concrete jungle. He couldn't eat, he was vomiting, and the drugs only intensified the foul mood that gripped him. One day he left...

Or maybe they had thrown him out? He couldn't recall such a situation, but he couldn't rule it out. The reality suddenly turned terrifying. The grotesquely blurred outlines of his surroundings sent shivers down his spine. Disturbing whistling sounds came from the darkness, and everyone stared at him as he stepped outside. He knew he was falling somewhere from which no one could rescue him, yet he couldn't do anything. It wasn't just his insides that hurt; his body actively reacted to the depression with recurring dull aches in his skull or stomach cramps. David was right – although he needed care, he ended up homeless.

He moved into the local slums, which made the rest of the city seem like paradise. The stench was unbearable, but at least no one asked him what he was looking for. Gangs weren't looking for influence here, as the chance of any profit was slim to none. He slept on the streets, even though he could have rented a room for life in the best hotel in the area with his share. For some reason, the cool asphalt appealed to him more than a warm, soft bed.

If he had had a mirror, perhaps he would have been able to wake up to the sight of himself. He had grown very thin, pale, and two weeks had been enough to turn him into a wreck. Something had irreversibly broken, and paradoxically, he was only happy with the prospect of imminent death. He felt as if he were looking at himself doubtfully from afar. He tried to reach out to help himself, but the earthly shell seemed unwilling to accept the offer. With a wide, unnatural smile on his lips, he fell asleep and woke drenched in sweat, drooling, and terrified. He would have screamed if he had had the strength.

She pulled him out of his depression. He found a secluded spot in an old warehouse where he could quietly listen to his own thoughts. One day, his nymph appeared at his side. He recoiled, struck by her radiance, and when he calmed down, he began to cry, transfixed by her beauty. She was just as he remembered her, only more tangible and alluring because she was naked.

The golden-haired woman sat beside him, staring motionless ahead. Her body was perfectly proportioned and shaped. Her very long curls fell over her breasts, hiding them from his prying eyes. The hair covering her pubis was the same color. Although she looked detached and distant, sometimes her lips seemed to curl into a smile. The glow surrounding her contrasted dangerously with her bottomless, pitch-black eyes, devoid of distinct pupils. She smelled of lilacs and cinnamon. He crouched down on his hands so as not to accidentally touch her and startle her.

They were silent, and then he began to speak. Quietly, almost shyly – a whisper. He recounted everything, seizing the opportunity. Finally, for the first time in many, many years, someone was willing to listen to him, especially at a time like this, when each passing day brought him closer to inevitable suicide. Rescue came at the last moment. He was afraid that, terrified by her outpouring, she would disappear and he would be alone again, but he couldn't stop. He would talk, then scream, unleashing his anger. She didn't move, so he began demolishing crates and containers. Then he fell asleep a few meters away from her, curled up tightly in a ball. Peace, blissful oblivion, enveloped him.

***

The woman returned, and the timing of her visits depended on how much he took, so he took more and more, unable to cope without her company. His inconspicuous monologues began to turn into meaningless speeches on a wide variety of topics. Although he was no longer broken and despairing, he still sank into madness incredibly quickly. He knew something was wrong then, but not now. The golden-haired woman, patiently enduring his presence, gave him faith in the purpose and rationality of his actions.

"They always strived for this, I see it now," he shouted one day. "They brought me down, and I was stupid enough to call them my friends. David wasn't a traitor. He simply saw what I failed to see. If I had a second chance today, I would have followed him."

He clenched his fists so hard his fingernails dug into his skin. He crouched down, wrapped his arms around his knees, and began to rock.

"How blind do you have to be to make such a significant mistake? My benefactors, my loved ones, my support..." Fucking hell," he hit the metal floor. "Do you know how it feels to suddenly find out your entire life is a pack of lies? Can you understand that? Twenty years of utter devotion to a bunch of exploitative, naive bastards! And why me? What was my fault that this fate was bestowed upon me? I'm sure if I could have gone to school like a normal person, I would have become some kind of scientist."

He smiled broadly, but after a moment, his imagination gave way. Frustrated, he shouted, "Why?!" Then he lay on his back and sobbed. When he finally opened his eyes and looked up, he noticed the golden-haired woman staring at him. He was instantly lost in her gaze. His head was spinning, he couldn't think straight, and colorful spots appeared before his eyes, making it almost impossible to see. He didn't know how long it had lasted, but as it turned out, she had the courage to make the decision for him. She told him what he should do.

***

The room was dark as usual, because no one had bothered to replace the burned-out light bulbs. Kitty and Tom, lost in the ecstasy of the drug, could finally explore each other's bodies completely openly. Although the group had disbanded, they had money—they were set for life. They reveled in each other's company and had plenty of others, though it was undeniable that something had gone wrong, so they weren't entirely satisfied. They vented their anger together, often and intensely. They were taking a lot. Reality and fiction were mingling, and even though they were starting to lose touch with reality, they saw nothing wrong with it. They were supposed to live life to the fullest, that was what they were doing.

Something creaked. Tom immediately released Kitty, but before he could turn around, someone hit him hard on the head. Blackness filled his vision. He heard Kitty scream for a moment, then everything went silent. When he regained consciousness, he still couldn't see anything because someone had blindfolded him. He felt Anne leaning against his back, heard someone's deep breathing standing out against the utter silence.

"Get up, I don't have all day.

Sean.

" "Sean?

" "Yes, are you glad to see me?

" "What's going on here?

" "I came to visit."

Kitty squealed, though the gag muffled the sound.

"What?" There was a long silence. "What do you want?

" "You're a festering ulcer embedded in my memories.

" "You're a bullshit."

A very hard blow with a gun butt, warm blood on his temples.

"What's wrong with you? Get a grip, Sean. Remember who you're dealing with.

" "I remember perfectly well, and that's why I have to take your lives. I'm only here because I've been monologue-ing lately, and I feel like talking, so I decided to use you for that purpose. Remember our first day together, when you punched me to stop me from crying?" Sean tried to imitate Tom's voice, quoting his words.

"I remember something."

Three more, very hard blows landed on his lower abdomen, probably only because he wasn't tightly bound in the ropes there. He immediately felt nauseous, choking loudly. The bonds were pressing against his chest. He felt as if he was about to explode from the inside.

"At least tell me why," Tom said.

"I'm not entirely sure myself. All I know is that I wasted my life because of you, so I have to repay you somehow.

" "And Kitty?" he asked, gritting his teeth to keep from roaring in helplessness.

"She's in too deep. She won't be able to open her eyes, and I don't want to be forced to flee from her thirst for revenge. Maybe a last wish?"

Kitty sobbed as loudly as her gagged mouth would allow.

"Leave her alone," Tom whispered.

"Too late," Sean replied.

He was already standing in front of her, waiting for the signal. He fired until he was certain the girl was dead, careful not to damage the other prisoner. Tom let out a loud cry of rage, his tight bonds preventing anything more.

"Do you know what you've brought me to, my friend? Despair." There was a moment of silence, punctuated by the leader's ragged breathing. "Tragedy. Can you understand this?

" "I can't.

" "You never could, that's why I'm here."

The remnants of the .35-round magazine mangled Tom's body. Sean kicked him in what was left of his face and ran from the room. Each step brought a shift in his attitude. Fury turned to fear, fear to fear, fear to confusion, and then to emptiness. By the time he reached the new car, he had completely lost faith in the wisdom of his actions. All he had left was the golden-haired woman, and it was on her support that he now counted.

With the engine revving, he pulled into traffic on one of the air highways and rolled down the window. As he skillfully passed each vehicle, he savored the soothing effect of the rush of air on his frayed nerves.

***

Goldilocks had disappeared. Although Sean tried to explain her absence, he couldn't convince himself that nothing had happened. Perhaps she had achieved her goal, so she decided she was no longer needed? This hypothesis seemed the most likely, yet one of the most painful. He sank into drug-induced visions of a utopian world, feeling terrible because part of his mind refused to accept the situation and allow him to forget. The battle raging inside his head was driving him mad. He was once again aware of his slow decline.

One day, he decided to end his suffering. For days, he had rejected the thought, knowing that then the deaths of the gang members he had killed would be, in a sense, in vain. But the deepening grayness was too convincing. He shot himself another round, grabbed his jacket, and left the hangar. He unlocked the car, put his thumb to the ignition, and drove off. Climbing, he reached a highway but failed to level out. A short beep warned him of an incorrect course, so he ducked and cut the control circuit near the fuses, ensuring no more interruptions. A few dozen seconds later, however, he heard sirens. He glanced in the mirror. The police always had faster vehicles, reserved just for themselves. No one had managed to bypass this limitation, as the security measures meant to ensure compliance were too stringent.

He drove the last few hundred meters, praying they wouldn't get close enough to stop him using their tractor beams. For violating one of the city's most important edicts, he would face several years in prison, and it's very difficult to commit suicide there. The surprised police officers didn't make it, however, perhaps leaving the station a little too late. The speeding vehicle slammed into the duracrete ceiling.

Although the entire incident lasted only a few seconds, Sean experienced immense fear, disorientation, surprise, and curiosity. Even if the building material was duracrete, it must have been some special kind. The machine ripped into the Roof with great force, as if through jelly, piercing it completely, and descending to the surface on the other side. The hole closed instantly, and all sounds from below ceased. He waited a moment longer, fearing the police might appear. Only when he left the dilapidated vehicle did he understand their reluctance to venture to the other side.

He actually wondered how he had survived the crash. Of the ultra-safe and durable equipment, as advertised, almost nothing remained. He tapped the floor, and a dull thud answered him. He kicked it with all his might, but nothing. His leg didn't sink into the material as he expected. Along with the calming sensation came a terrible coldness and difficulty breathing. He felt as if he were freezing alive. Blood pulsated in his contracting veins, and his body reacted to each gust with a violent trembling of the flesh.

Of one thing he was certain. Somewhere here, a new beginning awaited him. Someone up there had absolved his sins and guided him to this place with a merciful hand. All events suddenly began to fall into perfect harmony. Sean smiled broadly. The tears that had fallen as the cold wind blew into his eyes lost their momentum after a moment, then froze and fell like small ice cubes to the earthly ceiling. He heard distinct whispers somewhere deep in his mind. Someone was leading him in a direction he knew well, and seeing the brilliance of the signposts he had been following for the past few weeks, though he hadn't noticed them, he couldn't resist the directions. He marched through empty terrain, covered in many places with snow of varying depths, though the dome he knew as duracrete radiated a distinct warmth. Somewhere out there lay a new beginning, and though everything pointed to his strength leaving him long before he reached it, he continued walking. He even quickened his pace.