Fire Escape

Nor punched in a six-digit code to enter the VIP section’s panic room. Blood stained her white button-up and dripped down her arms. It coated her hands. Long, sticky streams beaded off the head of her crowbar. She loosened her tie, taking deep, steady breaths. On the other side of that panic room door, Laurent Rosserie waited.

She grabbed one of the guard’s pistols. It was civilian-grade and nothing fancy, but a crowbar had served her just fine. A gun couldn’t hurt. She operated smoothly, but she hadn’t done anything like this before. She had killed for the Family many times, but this wasn’t for the Family. She couldn’t disconnect herself from this.

Smoke seeped from her lips. She took a long drag from her cigarette and watched the doors disengage their mag-locks. Metal sliding and turning, the door beeped seven times and the lockdown on the VIP section began to lift. It wasn’t supposed to go this way, but how else could it have gone?

* * *

Nor stood on the fire escape, her short, shaggy white hair wafting with the breeze. She could see the heat signatures of the people below her, even from the thirteenth floor. Her implants were standard issue for firefighters. Some refused these implants and augmentations, but they also helped Nor’s work for the yakuza. Dense, muscular, short, she was a powerful enforcer for the Hakkou Family. She’d never minded the labor, but the few times she’d taken a life wore on her. She took these moments to wonder what sort of a woman she was. Did she save lives or end them?

A snowflake landed on her shoulder. If not for the snow, she’d forget it was minus thirty degrees. Her dermal augmentations changed the temperature of her skin. It helped resist the heat of a fire should her suit fail, but afforded her a peculiar numbness. When her girlfriend held her, she couldn’t feel the softness or warmth. Just a weight around her back.

“It scares me how little you feel,” Taikiko said, slouched over Nor like a weighted blanket. She was tall, but slim. Tattooed with swans, eagles, and hawks, splashing water. She wasn’t an enforcer like Nor. She didn’t like talking about her role for Hakkou. She was a cousin, part of the family, but without the family name. Hosu Taikiko. Something about her floated like smoke.

Nor hummed a reply, watching ash fall from the end of her cigarette, tumbling among snowflakes.

“Norimi?” Taikiko whispered in her ear.

Nor felt the pounding of boots. Someone hopped out her window and onto the fire escape with Nor and her girlfriend. Firefighter boots, designed by Volcanic Armories, were too heavy for most civilians to wear without the full suit and exoskeleton rig, but Nor’s friend was built like a tank. Raya walked up to the railing and leaned on the frozen metal, just as unable to feel the sheering winds as Nor.

“Thanks for letting me crash, Nor,” Raya said, long black hair waving in the air. She grinned at Nor and Taikiko. “Anu and the kids don’t need mommy stomping in late.”

“You didn’t have to sleep on the couch, Raya,” Nor said.

Taikiko nodded, holding Nor tighter. “We have a futon in my office.”

“I’ve been sleeping on the couch at home anyways,” Raya said.

Nor offered her a cigarette, but Raya refused. She watched the snow, counting how many snowflakes exhibited the exact same patterns. They fell fast, but she took little snapshots. When Nor asked how many Raya caught, Nor and Raya put their heads together. Raya sent her thoughts digitally, but the closeness made it easier. Nor saw what Raya saw: forty-six identical flakes, all of them statistical inevitabilities.

“Little tasks,” Raya said. They helped her through the PTSD, having been a frontliner in an armed conflict on the moon called Tiskus. Seven years and Raya had muscles, scars, and a flighty attitude to show for it.

Nor couldn’t focus enough for little tasks, but she pretended it helped her. Just so Raya would hold her that way.

Taikiko had drifted back toward the apartment window, shivering in her shorts and oversized T-shirt. She nodded, seeing how Nor smiled at Raya, and stepped inside.

* * *

The Rosserie building went up in flames at 11:56 AM. The fire had started before that, but by a matter of milliseconds. Too close to be an accident. Scheduled. Within fifteen minutes, the fourth floor fire spread to the fifteenth floor. With the building under maintenance, the bankers, accountants, and staff were mostly absent, save for a select few who’d come in to work the weekend. Laurent Rosserie’s managerial team called in the fire at 11:58 AM, having called their own building security to set up an exit plan first. This was all in the briefing.

Chief selected a few small teams to head up into the blaze. As always Nor and Raya were on Gold Team, subordinate to a firefighter designated Gold Leader. Gold Leader, or Johnson Hucks, sent Nor and Raya to scour the fifteenth, fourteenth, and thirteenth floors for survivors. They would meet Gold Three and Four on the twelfth floor and move back down to the lobby where Gold Leader, One, Two, and Seven would be extracting survivors. With the high winds and the level of smoke, airborne extraction was deemed too risky.

An emergency transport shuttle brought Nor and Raya to the site. The rear hatch opened and Gold Team rushed down the exit ramp, prebriefed, and the extraction plan drilled into their heads. They stormed into the streets in their armored Balder Mark III suits, all of them stomping like bipedal armadillos. The suits featured life support, exoskeletal power enhancers, fire retardation, and heavy ballistic resistance. Modern infantry weren’t outfitted this heavily, Raya had told Nor. Raya said that it was all a crutch, though. In the end, all things were a test of mettle and will.

Nor knew she had the mettle, but she wondered where her willpower waned, looking up at the billowing smoke, twisting and soaring to the sky from the Rosserie’s glass skin, seeping from broken windows and piercing the clouds. Its twin, reflected across the glass tower’s surface, was both beautiful and terrible.

* * *

“A mix of beauty and terror,” Nor had said when one of the new kids asked her what it felt like to take a life. There were two of them going with her. It was a simple shakedown, but she checked her pistol before going in. One couldn’t inspect their equipment enough. Or was that just fear crackling somewhere in her skull?

Viktor nodded. “I have killed before, but saw no beauty in it. I only wish to be of service.” He was experienced, handsome, chiseled, and cool. He had a debt to the Hakkou Family and they were kind enough to allow him to pay it through service, rather than taking his fingers, an arm, or his life.

Yoshida was different. He twitched and shivered. Firstly, he felt the cold bite of the wind. Viktor probably did, too, but he didn’t let it show. Secondly, Yoshida had never taken a life before. His jobs had been more civil, standing outside clubs when extra muscle was needed and accompanying VIPs. Low-level bodyguarding, but nothing too dangerous. This was a dangerous job. “That’s insane. It’s just work. You work and you go home and you forget about work.” He tried to play it cool, but even his voice quivered.

“Yoshida-san, gun check.” Nor leaned on the alley dumpster. If he didn’t have a round chambered when they walked inside, he would be a liability if the employees weren’t pliable. It was such a far cry from fighting fires, yet it made sense to Nor. “All beings have two halves. Leave your mother’s son in the alley and bring the cold killer. Fear is good. It means you understand.”

Yoshida ejected the magazine, checked the chamber, looked down the barrel, checked the trigger, inserted the mag, chambered a round. They all wore the identical black suits and ties, no masks for a job like this. The tattoos would tell what their victims needed to know.

* * *

A white koi fish raced down her right arm, falling down a waterfall, a black koi fish fought the waterfall on her left arm, pushing upward. Between her breasts, the water swirled into a white peace lily bulb.

She carried the pack in her bare hands, standing nude on the fire escape as night crawled up the towering complexes. The last light touched the tops of these flats before slipping up to the roofs, pulling toward the sky, chasing the setting sun. A flurry of snow kissed Nor’s skin, but she only felt a smooth brush like soft fingers across her shoulders and chest. Sometimes, she wished she could feel the cold.

“She’s out on the fire escape,” Eva said, spotting Nor through the window. In her poofy, white bathrobe, a young woman like Eva Alekov looked like she was playing at being an adult. She was a painter. A dreamer in a dead medium.

Maia stomped into the living room, her oversized T-shirt tight against her larger body. “Again? It’s in the negative.” A more practical artist, Maia Vickers worked with metal sculpture. It was less dreamy and hard to ignore–some towered six or seven stories high. Scrap metal was cheap and she made large commissions.

Nor quit looking over her shoulder. Her girlfriends stood there like Taikiko had, unable to understand the deep pit the Work put in Nor’s stomach. Not a pit like a hole. A pit like an olive or an avocado. Something heavy and inedible.

Her young girlfriends went to bed, tired of waiting. Eva might’ve waited all night like a lost puppy if not for Maia. She was thankful they had each other, because often Nor felt quite absent. She let fire tumble in her mind. It had been years of trying to forget, but she still pondered how the Rosserie Building had caught fire. If it was so clearly arson, how could the arsonist have gotten away? There were so many cameras and witnesses. Three years and godmothering Raya’s children brought her no peace, taking on two young lovers couldn’t distract her, and the fire within raged on.

* * *

Tongues of fire lashed through the open stairwell. The biggest of the two firefighters, Raya, took the lead. She trudged through the fire, her black plates deflecting the extreme heat. Nor stayed close to the wall, unwilling to test the limits of her Balder.

“Stay sharp, Gold Six,” Raya said. “Watch your step.”

Nor followed closely. “Copy, Five.”

Raya threw her shoulder into the door at the next landing and broke it off its hinges. They stormed the cubicles, fire washing over every surface. Their helmets could scan for lifeforms, but since the technology sought movement, heat signatures, and vibrations, it had a short range in an inferno. Sorting out the noise, they searched for any signs of life and found none.

“Negative signatures. Confirm, Six?”

Raya searched cube by cube, keeping up the pace. She didn’t rely on the scanners. If someone had implants that altered their heat signatures, heart rate, sweat glands, or provided life support, they might not be picked up with the same consistency as non-modified humans or humans with low-level modifications. For example, Raya didn’t show up on the scanners other than blips from her brisk march through the fire.

She moved purposefully, experienced in taking point and keeping a team alive. She’d told Nor enough stories of her tour. Nor knew she wasn’t lying. She could see it for herself.

“Six, confirm.”

Nor had spaced out staring at the scanner. A blip right on top of them. “Correction. Positive sig. Above us.”

“Take point. I’ll secure this floor. Move.” Raya kept her pace, searching cube by cube. This wasn’t a negotiation. They had a short time limit before the extinguisher bombs hit the building. The chief had warned about their fifteen-minute window. Blue Team contained the fire from the outside, Gold Team searched for survivors, and Red Team would provide the air support. Even in their armadillo suits, the chemical sludge those bombs released could kill someone. In their metal shells, they weren’t invincible. Only an idiot would think that, Raya had once said.

“Copy, Five. Oscar Mike.” Nor headed back to the stairwell, into the pocket of flames that crawled up the tower, flooding upper floors. She leaped up the cement steps, taking two at a time. Patience wouldn’t afford the survivor more time. The door at the fourteenth floor landing exploded into splinters when she threw her shoulder into it, tumbling through.

The chrome glow of a fire-retardant sheet caught Nor’s eyes. It refracted light from the fire, beaming in the darkness. It was a beacon on Nor’s scanner, a heart thumping within. Nor reported across Gold Team’s comms that she found a survivor and was firing an extinguisher on the fourteenth floor. The hose telescoped from her extinguisher support pack and she gripped the nozzle in both hands. The heavy nozzle clicked when she removed the safety pin and squeezed the dual triggers. Supporting the hose with her right hand and aiming the nozzle with her left, she braced herself and cleared the area around the chrome sheet. The relentless flames fought back, but the chemicals in the retardant foam sucked oxygen from the air and coated the floor in corrosive sludge.

* * *

“You know, I’m not crazy about the name,” a man said to Nor. Tongues of Fire by Maia Vickers: a series of torched, forked tongues of metal reaching upward. All that repurposed scrap metal felt heavy. Heaviness was one of the things Nor could feel. Gravity. Pressure.

The art show Cityscape was meant to reflect the reality of living in Kokuro as an artist. Nor couldn’t help but feel like Maia had hijacked the fire theme from her. Even the placard for the sculpture said Every time a fire breaks out, I watch my girlfriend Norimi suit up and head to the station. I lay awake at night, watching for smoke, hoping tongues of fire don’t consume her.

“She’s a heavy sleeper,” Nor said, sipping on her champagne. The young man next to her gripped his champagne glass in his fist, out of place and wearing a poorly-sized jacket. She wondered whose plus-one he was. “She snores, too. She’s never awake when I get home.”

“The artist?” The man put his champagne to his lips and shot it.

“Taking some liberties.”

“You’re Goro Norimi, then?” he asked. “Can I talk to you?”

Nor cocked her head. “We’re talking now. Do I know you?”

“Hao Guiren,” he said. “It’s been awhile, Goro-san.”

* * *

The survivor was wrapped in my arms when I headed down the stairs. He was unconscious, but I could see his vitals. His heart rate elevated. He’d need medical attention after the smoke he’d inhaled, but he’d survive if I could get him outside.

“Civvies, fifteenth floor! We need hands up here!” Raya shouted.

“Negative, ambulances are scrambled,” Gold Leader said, responding through our communication system in our suits. “Gold Team, fall back to the lobby.”

Gold Leader was killing us. I couldn’t figure why, but he had sent me and Raya to the top of a burning building then ordered the rest of the team to make an exit. He underestimated me in two ways: he didn’t think I’d figure that out or make it out of the building.

“Gold Leader, this is Gold Five,” I said. “We have survivors, please advise.”

“Gold Five, hold position.” That was the last we’d hear from Gold Leader before the extinguisher ships arrived. The extinguisher units had received confirmation that the building was clear. Within three minutes, the building would be coated with a corrosive agent and explosive extinguisher bombs, putting out the fire, demolishing the building, smothering anyone who hadn’t made their exit.

* * *

Nor and Viktor entered through the kitchen, Yoshida close behind them. The kitchen staff brandished knives and pots and pans, but the armed hit squad moved quickly. Nor barked for everybody to hit the floor. All it took was a glimpse at their tattoos to convince the cooks to comply. These men were willing to die for their master, but their resistance might warrant retribution. Fighting back against yakuza would put one’s family in danger.

Through the kitchen, Nor, Viktor, and Yoshida entered Gilman’s to get the drop on their target. The diners remained seated, whispering and putting their hands up as a trio of hit men rushed into the banquet area. As expected, Shinai Toma had five bodyguards standing around him. Three were his own, two belonged to his client. Nor fired the first shot.

Viktor was quick on the trigger, shooting two of Esso Mohoru’s men as they drew their pistols. Shinai stood up and reached into his jacket for a weapon, while Nor leaped onto the table, stomping through the after dinner salads of a couple of businessmen. There were ten people at the table, most of them raising their hands as soon as they heard gunshots. They were civilians, affiliated with the Imbasa Family. Collateral would be unacceptable. Nor’s instructions had been specific. She dropped into a low slide, swiping sake bottles and glasses from the table and spilling them across the trio of businessmen across from her as she threw a punch to Shinai’s jaw. She wrapped her legs around a man’s chest and tackled him to the ground, rolling off of him and shooting one of the surviving bodyguards who’d been firing on Viktor.

When she turned around, Yoshida pointed his pistol and fired it past her into the face of the surviving bodyguard, neutralizing all expendable liabilities. Shinai staggered in the middle of the room, drawing a submachine gun from his silver jacket, popping off the two buttons of his suit as he ripped the weapon free.

“Everyone on the ground!” Yoshida shouted. He didn’t seem so shy after killing the guards.

The businessmen all got out of their chairs and laid down their weapons if they had any. Esso Mohoru, a fat, bald man in a red suit, was not so easily convinced. He stood up and drew a pistol from his jacket. He fired a shot down the length of the table, shooting Viktor in the back of the head. It had been careless, but Viktor wanted to be sure no more bodyguards were coming. If anything, Nor hadn’t been quick enough, focusing only on Shinai. Esso fired at Yoshida, then turned his gun on Nor. Yoshida shot Esso twice in the chest. The Imbasa lieutenant sank into his chair, gasping as his gun tumbled across the table into his ginger salad. The nickel-plated pistol laid among leaves of romaine lettuce and matchstick carrots, its engraved barrel depicting a tiger gutting a gazelle, still smoking.

Nor tackled Shinai to the floor and folded his arm backwards. It broke at the elbow and dislocated at the shoulder. The SMG landed next to Shinai’s head. “Yoshida! You can’t shoot Esso!”

“Don’t worry,” Yoshida said, a little too sure for the rookie status his dossier had promised her, “Those shots weren’t fatal.”

Shinai sobbed, while Nor stepped off him. She hoisted him with one arm and tossed him into his chair, bending her legs and flexing her broad biceps to move him. She hadn’t broken a sweat. Her augmentations and enhancements regulated her heartbeat and kept her in an easy homeostasis. She looked him in the eyes and nodded, her nose touching his, close enough to peck him on the lips. He smiled at her.

“You’re dead. You shouldn’t’ve broken my arm, little girl,” he said. He was young, but he knew the Shinai Family were closely tied to both the Hakkou and Omue Families. Shinai was yakuza by blood, born into a criminal family, not an orphan adopted and raised by the Family like Nor or scouted talent like Viktor.

“I know you, Goro-chan.” Shinai reached up with his good hand and grabbed her face, thumb over her eye, ready to gouge. “I’m gonna be fucking your corpse by tomorrow night, you stupid–”

As soon as she felt an ounce of pressure on her eye, she punched his elbow, bending it backwards and shattering his bones. Shinai screamed and threw his head back.

Nor glanced at Yoshida and Esso. Yoshida unsheathed his katana and put the blade to Esso’s throat. “Watch closely, Esso-san. Don’t blink,” Yoshida instructed.

Nor turned her attention back to Shinai. “You’ve been cut off, Shinai Toma.”

Shinai thrashed, but Nor smacked him with a back hand and beat him with her pistol. She broke his toes, his fingers, shattered his jaw, then shot him in the head, while Esso Mohoru was forced to watch. The businessmen trembled and whimpered, some of them pissing their pants, some of them begging to be spared, but the whole point of the operation was to kill Shinai Toma for selling narcotics to Esso and punish Esso for selling the same narcotics on Hakkou Family territory while funnelling profits to Omue. Nor had been asked to make Shinai’s death painful, long, and memorable for Esso to make sure he knew which family was the most dangerous to cross. After the killing gunshot, Shinai was a bloody mess face down on the table. Nor sat him up in the chair, making the skinless, toothless, noseless, head stare back at Esso.

“You are only alive because you are useful, Esso-san.” Nor tucked her pistol into her suit jacket. “Never cross the Hakkou Family.”

Yoshida dragged his blade across Esso’s cheek, leaving a long scar from his ear to his lips. Esso, hardened by his years as enforcer, barely flinched, quietly clutching his chest. Yoshida groaned, unsatisfied by Esso’s response. “Just a little reminder.”

Yoshida sheathed his sword, took three paces, turned around, then shot Esso Mohoru through the nose.

* * *

“You know anything about this?” Johnson asked. He pointed to the screen in the conference room. With her face blurred, the footage showed Nor beating Shinai repeatedly. The media always blurred the faces of yakuza members, but the video was crisp and anyone who knew Nor could identify that woman swinging repeatedly as Shinai thrashed. The video had been recorded from above. The restaurant’s cameras were supposed to be out during the hit, yet this single video surfaced.

“I hope they catch their suspect,” Nor said. “This sort of violence is despicable.”

Johnson shook his head. “You’re an idiot if you think this is going away.”

“You’re an idiot if you think I did anything unsanctioned.”

“We’re in the business of saving lives.” He stood up, towering over her, looking down to intimidate her. She was used to being looked down on by big, tough men. “Criminals and murderers don’t belong in the civil service. The men and women in our department are heroes. You don’t fit the bill.”

“I appreciate you sharing your opinion. You’re Gold Team Leader, but you don’t have the authority to dismiss me.” Nor walked around Johnson Hucks to get a better look at the screen. She wouldn’t be identified by most strangers even with the video side-by-side, but it was damning. “If the Chief shares your opinion, I’m sure he’ll be the first to share it with me.”

That evening, Raya avoided Nor at the station. Not a word.

When Nor got home that night, she ignored Taikiko’s questions about her day, requests for dinner, pleading for Nor to come to bed. Nor stood on the fire escape and smoked a pack of cigarettes before falling asleep on the couch.

* * *

They sat on a sofa at the art show, sticking out plenty before they sat on one of the artists’ pieces. Hao Guiren leaned close to Nor and whispered, “I’ve been looking for you. I’m a friend.”

“I know most of my friends,” Nor said. “This would be a shitty place to have to kill someone, so I’m gonna give you another breath and a handful of syllables to tell me who the fuck you are.”

“You and Sergeant Al-Ameen saved my life. I go to her grave every weekend.” He shot his champagne, then burped. Crossing his legs, he looked around at the guests who cast stares and moved on. “Everyone who survived the fire visits, but you visit that grave more than her husband and daughters do. I can tell you were close.”

“You bought yourself a few more syllables, kid, but you’re gonna have to get to the point.” Nor waved a woman over who took their empty glasses and handed them each a fresh champagne.

Hao Guiren shot his champagne and set the glass by his feet. “They told me the building would be empty. When I started the fire.”

Nor reached with her right hand, dropping her champagne as she snatched a fistful of air between her and Hao Guiren, ready to wring his neck. She gripped her knees with both hands. The glass didn’t break, but rolled between their pairs of feet, restlessly pacing back and forth on the floor. “You were hired?”

“Yeah. I was told it was for insurance money. With the kind of premiums offered to big corporations and people like the Rosserie Family, there’s a lot of money in arson, but most pros don’t do collateral. I would never have taken the job if I knew.”

Nor stood up and took Hao Guiren’s hand. They cut through the crowds, pushed their way to a glass box balcony. There, they watched the snow fall, the whole city wrapped up in a blizzard.

“Who started the fire?”

* * *

“We’ve been cut off!” Nor shouted, “Gold Team’s pulling out without us!”

Raya’s radio cut out. Nothing but static.

She held Hao Guiren in her arms, knowing she could survive the flames and flee the building, but the fire would burn the young man to ash. Her suit could only survive so much abuse, as well. The building moaned, its foundation rattling every floor from the ground up. Nor tried to call the Chief, Command, and every other team, but comms were dead. It was too perfect, the building coming down, Nor and Raya trapped in a cut-off section, the entire structure a perfect tomb. As resilient as their suits were, they wouldn’t survive being crushed by several tons of rubble, nor the corrosive agents that would be used to bomb the fire.

“I’m not going to let you die,” Nor said, cradling Hao Guiren’s body, wrapped in its reflective cover, a collection of contours. She reached her convex pack and detached an oxygen mask from it, uncovering his face briefly to give him air. “I’ll get you out of here.”

Raya stormed down the stairs. “Comms are down!” Her voice was muffled by the protective layering of her helmet, but Nor heard her and both women knew this was no accident. Without the communication suite, they could barely hear each other over the raging flames and warping supports. The building would come down on their heads even if the extinguishers were deployed. “Clear the window. We’re not taking the stairs, Nor.” A few office workers followed Raya down, all of them wearing oxygen masks attached to Raya’s pack.

Raya and Nor gathered by the window, Nor deployed her fireaxe from her suit’s left leg holster. She stared at her suited body in the reflection. Before she swung the axe, she thought she saw herself dressed in her black suit with her sleeves rolled up. She smashed through the window, aiming at her own chest, throwing so much weight into the axehead that she stumbled and regained her balance at the end of her swing.

Raya tied a rope at the head of a metal stake, then lined it up in the middle of the carpet. Nor slammed the flat side of her axehead into the stake and nailed it into the floor. Raya tossed the rope out of the window. It wouldn’t reach the ground, but it would get the civilians much closer and the teams below time to react and catch them.

“Is this everyone?” Nor asked.

“Wilco!” Raya tied a second rope while Nor attached her suit to the line. Raya pounded the second stake into the floor, then tied her knots. The civilians clustered by the window, crying from the smoke whipping past their heads and sweating in the heat of the fire. There were four survivors. An obese woman hyperventilated and screamed for help, so Nor decided to take her first. Nor clipped her into a harness and rappelled with the woman dangling a meter below. Nor hopped downwards, squeezing a trigger to slacken the rope with each drop, keeping her hops shallow to avoid bashing the woman against the burning building’s windows. Firefighters from Gold and Blue Teams gathered tarps and inflated cushions when they saw them coming down. She dropped the woman straight down onto the cushion. About a fifteen meter fall. She probably broke bones, given her size, but it was better than burning alive. Next to Nor, Raya let the unconscious man fall. As easy as a ragdoll, he flopped when he landed on the cushion. The firefighters below told Nor and Raya not to go back up. They said they were out of time, but there were two more people up there.

Raya climbed much faster than Nor. She rappelled down with the obese man clicked into a harness, passing Nor up. “Hit the lights on the way out,” Raya said.

They’d left the obese man and petite woman for last, since both workers were conscious and relatively level-headed. That should’ve made them easier to get into harnesses. Though the petite woman kicked and thrashed when Nor tried to put her legs into the loops.

“What’s the holdup?” Raya had come back up. She ran to Nor’s side.

“She’s fighting me. Hold her still.”

“No time. Take her and jump,” Raya said.

“There’s still someone in here!” the woman screamed. “I heard him scream!”

Raya stood up and turned away. Nor didn’t realize what was happening before it was too late. “Go. I’m right behind you, as always.”

This moment replayed in her nightmares. Nor sprinted toward the window, chasing the smoke, and stepping over the edge with the woman in her arms, plummeting to the ground. Nor smashed through the cushion stationed at the bottom, cracking the pavement as the building popped and collapsed in on itself. A small team of fire-response shuttles circled around the building, bombing out the flames. Raya was not behind Nor.

* * *

“There was already accelerant, though. It’s like there was a gas leak or something. Everything went up in an instant…and I didn’t know about the office workers upstairs, either. I started on the fourth floor, then climbed the fourteenth to finish the job.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” Nor said. She could kill him, but he was the only person who didn’t talk to Nor about the fire like it was all some horrible accident. “I don’t care what you wanted. Why you did it. Fuck you. What’re you trying to tell me?”

“It was a hit, dude.”

“Don’t fucking call me ‘dude’.”

“Goro-san, I think you and I were supposed to die.”

They left the party early. Maia would be pissed and Eva would act like a disappointed mother, but Hao would be dead, Nor guessed. She swiped some keys from the valet’s office and picked Hao Guiren up in the parking garage. He tugged at his collar, looking at a black-tinted, luxury car. Nor stared at him through the window before she rolled it down and yelled at him over the humming of the car’s hoverjets. “Get in, dumbass!”

He buckled himself in. “Holy fuck. Is this your car? It’s nice.”

“How stupid do you think I am? Two survivors of a supposed hit just showed up at the same party and disappeared to a balcony to catch up. This is conspicuous. This is stupid. Do you wanna get killed?” Nor hit the autopilot, unable to drive for herself. She didn’t have a license.

“Good point. I didn’t show up because it was the smart thing to do. It was the right thing to do. I wasn’t tailed. I’m not an amateur.”

“Is this a movie? Is this a video game? We don’t stand around corners and wait outside in a tinted van when we’re tailing someone. Do you know what goddamn year it is?”

The car turned tight corners. If it was noticed missing, the owner could shut the car down and lock Nor and Hao inside. They needed to ditch the car as soon as possible. “It’s hot in here,” Hao Guiren said, removing his dress jacket. Nor ignored him, unable to feel the heat blasting from the vents. She watched city lights and snowflakes whizz by, all blurs beyond the glass. Their destination was an old downtown hotel, which had few cameras and discrete patrons. Nor stepped out of the car and walked down the street with Hao close behind her. The car was left idling outside the hotel. They walked most of a kilometer to the warehouse Nor had in mind. There had to be a more discrete location for their brief meeting, but she’d used this building as a safehouse before. She thought about the night she’d come to the hotel and stopped by this warehouse to pick up their weapons. She’d stood in the building with Viktor and Yoshida, each of them prepared for the Esso job. That was before the fire. Now, standing in the warehouse with Hao, she felt as if she was standing on the fingers of prostrated ghosts, revered by the men and women she’d killed, but returning no such respect.

Their footsteps echoed across the empty room, which was built to hold many large containers in tall columns as high as thirty meters. “I was supposed to meet with someone tonight at Bluefeathers. They said they wanted another job from me. I haven’t taken a job since the Rosserie Building. I don’t do this shit anymore,” Hao Guiren promised. He dug his hands into his pockets, looking nowhere in particular. Nor wondered if he was so afraid of her that he couldn’t look. She leaned against the wall and lit a cigarette, startled when her foot nudged a crowbar on the floor. It must’ve been left behind, resting there for ages. It was made from a fine metal if it hadn’t rusted. She smirked, remembering how she’d popped open the care package for the Esso job with that crowbar and tossed it aside.

“Who were you meeting?”

Hao’s head snapped toward Nor. He said, “She seemed to know you pretty well. A Hakkou broker and an Orowara man…and Laurent Rosserie. Not the kind of people who normally deal with freelancers.”

Nor flicked her cigarette through the air, hitting Yoshida between the eyes from twenty-five meters away. The bullet soared by Hao. He fell to the ground, having hardly finished speaking before the shot was fired. Nor grabbed the crowbar from the floor and dived before Yoshida could take two shots at her. Scrambling up, Nor chucked the crowbar against the floor, flipping it upwards at Yoshida. Yoshida gasped, planted his feet, and drew a katana from his hip, and deflected the crowbar.

“Hao, now!” Nor shouted.

“Now, what!” Hao screamed, ducking on the floor.

Yoshida lowered the katana, pointed his gun at Hao, then froze when he realized that Hao wasn’t running or moving. “Fuck!” He swung his sword as Nor lunged at him. Nor flipped behind his elbow and put her back to his, then jumped and dropkicked Yoshida, sending the assassin tumbling away from her. He jumped up and fired a shot at Nor as she rushed him. The crowbar smashed his fingers and sent his pistol banging into the wall. The katana blocked a second swing. He countered, thrusting the katana and cutting into Nor’s left bicep. It was razorsteel, an alloy so sharp it could sheer steel. It took little effort to slice flesh. Nor swept low and smashed Yoshida’s ankle with the crowbar. He bent his knees and yelled through clenched teeth. He was older, now. She remembered the shaky boy who’d gone into a job alongside her and Viktor. The katana cut so close to her throat, but she fixed a grip on his throat and kicked him onto his back. Nori went to tackle him, yet he put his foot on her chest and rolled. She flew through the air, seeing the ground and ceiling before thudding against the warehouse wall.

“Yoshida!” Nor shouted, flipping over onto her hands and knees before swiping the pistol from the floor. He was right on top of her. He kicked her so hard that her whole body left the ground. She slammed down at his feet, but felt the change in the wind. He brought the sword down, ready to slice her clean in half. She rolled onto her back and blocked his blade with the pistol’s ring just before the trigger. He stared down the barrel. Fumbling for the gun, Yoshida tossed the katana and tackled Nor, almost strong enough to rip the gun away in one motion. Nor dug her knee into his groin, pushing between his balls while he pushed his elbow across her throat.

“Yoshida, you fucking snake…” Nor gasped.

Yoshida gagged, purple in the face. “Me? You’re the one who won’t fucking die, Goro Norimi. Even Viktor had the sense to die during the job.”

Nor tugged the pistol one way, Yoshida pushed it the other, the barrel of the gun dancing between them, both of them holding their fingers on the trigger. The pistol pushed against Nor’s chin and Yoshida squeezed, but Nor held his finger in place, stopping him from blowing her brains out. His sweat fell from the tip of his nose in heavy drops. She refused to blink.

“Who got to you? Imbasa? Omue? Hashigara?”

“Now you want to talk? Huh? Now?” Yoshida snickered, then gagged when she pushed deeper into his testicles. “You were so good for three years. All you had to do was be quiet. Boss Hakkou likes you, but you trampled the wrong fucking garden.”

“Eat shit, Baby Yoshida.” Nor couldn’t breathe. Her strength left her. One finger stopped the gun from firing, but Yoshida was stronger than he looked. When all the air left her, she’d be nothing more than hardware and organic refuse.

Yoshida’s breath wavered. “That fire was for you. Now it’s up to me to snuff you out.”

“Goodbye, Yoshida,” Nor said with her last breath. She reached his hip and grabbed his scabbard. With a twist and pull, she yanked it free from his belt and smashed his bottom jaw with it. She gasped, filled her lungs, dug her knee into his side and rolled him into his back. She mounted him and pushed the gun closer to him. Her implants kicked in to steady her breathing. He fought her finger as the barrel rested against jaw.

“Nor…there’s a meeting tonight. Rosserie is there. I can get you in. Remember when we were a team?” With a bang, his brain matter spattered across the floor. The conversation was over.

“I already said ‘goodbye’.” Nor grabbed the crowbar and katana. Hao Guiren watched her collect all three weapons, stunned. “Time for you to go home, Hao Guiren.”

“I’m scared. I was ready to die, but I’m still scared.”

“That’s because you’re human,” Nor told him. “Go home.”

“You’re going to that meeting? Goro-san, I didn’t go, because I knew it was a fuckin’ trap. Like, it was another job at best. At worst, they’ll shoot you the second you walk in there.”

“At best or at worst, there’s only one way to settle this.” Nor ripped a sleeve off Yoshida and tied off her bleeding arm. She wouldn’t have time to do anything more than dress the cut and herself. While a dress was nice for a party, she always wanted to be buried in a suit.

* * *

In an overcoat buttoned up to her nose, Nor skipped the line. The bouncer told her to get in line or get lost. Nor rolled up her coat’s sleeves. The bouncer stared at her arms, chasing the tattooed koi fish. He knew her. The bald, older man was a Hakkou Family thug, but Bluefeathers was an Imbasa Family property. Omue, Hakkou, and Imbasa lieutenants regularly mingled in the VIP section.

“They’re expecting Hao Guiren, right?” Nor whispered.

His name was Terrence. He recognized Nor and her tattoos, now that she was so close he could feel her breath. “Mr. Hao is no longer expected.”

“Sorry I’m late. Tell them he’s coming up.” Before she could walk past him, Terrence grabbed Nor’s shoulder. They glared at one another.

“I’m sorry for what they did to you.”

“What exactly are they doing to me?”

“Above my pay grade. All I know is, I was told to expect Mr. Yoshida, as well. Not you.”

“I’d better break the bad news myself.”

“Thank you,” Terrence said. His tongue was caught in his throat. He coughed and let go of Nor. “For not killing me.”

Nor walked through the club, painted with flashing lights and strobes. She skirted by the bar, avoiding the dance floor to keep the eyes of the security staff off her. The thumping music rattled her head, but her body throbbed with the bass, the shallow cut from Yoshida’s katana bled through its bandage. She almost tripped over herself when a fat woman in a pink pencil skirt waddled up to her.

“Omigod! You’re Goro-sama!” This woman did a little bow, her flexibility limited by her girth. Her face was rosy, her breath caustic from sweet drinks. “Three years ago, you saved my life! Girls, this is her!”

Just like that, a handful of plump and obese women surrounded Nor. “You…oh, you,” Nor said, remembering the fat woman as she prepared to shoo her away. She’d gotten much fatter since the fire in the Rosserie Building. “You’re a lot fatter.”

The women stared, then all looked at the woman in pink. Thankfully, the woman burst out laughing. “Three years fatter, thanks to you, girl! You’re my hero!”

Nor remembered all of the names but few of the faces: Hao Guiren, Carlos Estacado, Mi Ruilin, and Fen Harding. This behemoth was Mi Ruilin, appearing to have eaten and drank her gratitude over the years. If she’d been this fat the night of the fire, she would’ve died when Raya went upstairs to find the other survivors. Mi Ruilin and Hao Guiren were the first two out of the building. Each of them had been to Nor’s apartment and left her gifts at the department. All of them attended Raya’s funeral. Nor had been so drunk at Raya’s funeral that she didn’t remember any of the faces. Just the names.

“Mi Ruilin,” Nor said. “I’m glad you’re doing well. Take this.” She handed Ruilin a wad of cash. Neither woman knew how much. Probably not enough.

“Can you fall down? I need you to draw some attention.” Nor noticed a few dozen guards stationed around the room, a couple of them patrolling the club’s floor. She needed to get into the VIP suite before security started locking down.

“Call me Ruilin! Just Ruilin…I hope you like drinks, because we’re gonna get you fucked up!” Ruilin screamed, joined by her drunk friends. She hadn’t heard what Nor had said. “What did you say?”

Nor shoved Ruilin. It took surprisingly little to roll her over onto her back. Ruilin’s friends scrambled, a couple toppling over like fat dominos while the rest waddled clear. “Sorry,” Nor said, stepping over the women and squeezing past. She darted for the VIP section while security and bystanders turned and filmed and struggled to help Ruilin. It was a giant spectacle, all Nor needed.

Blood drained down her arm as she squeezed by the bar crowd, careful not to draw the attention of the drinkers and partiers before she reached the stairs leading up to the VIP lounge. The guard was a short, skinny man with a shoulder-length mullet. He was a trigger-happy thug named Alan. A Hakkou man.

“You’re not supposed to be here, Nor. Why’d Terrence let you in?” Alan asked, reaching inside his coat, probably fingering a gun. He was known for shooting first. They rarely put Alan on guard duty alone.

Makise stepped up behind Nor. “Terrence, we’ll talk about this later, but Goro Norimi is standing inside Bluefeathers.” Makise was more than a common thug. Nor had worked with Makise many times. Makise had a slight build, long hair, a cute face, and was stronger than she looked thanks to a few muscular implants and low-tech modifications. Makise and Alan stood on either side of Nor. They wouldn’t stand down like Terrance. In fact, Makise put her finger to her earpiece. “Get the VIPs in the panic room.”

Nor drew the crowbar from her overcoat, ripping open the buttons and zipper, and smashed Alan’s fingers before he could aim his concealed pistol at her. The pistol tumbled onto the dance floor. Alan screamed, trying to scramble up the steps with his mangled hand tight across his chest. The dancers were too drunk or too high to notice the gun or the fight when it broke out. With the strobing lights, Nor spun and kicked Makise away from her. Nor smacked Alan’s teeth out with a wide swing, then stomped on his throat while the back of his neck rested against a stairstep. The clattering of teeth and the snap of Alan’s neck drowned beneath thumping bass, wailing patrons, and the fuss Ruilin’s fall had caused.

Makise drew two pistols, but her fingers never hit the triggers. With an uppercut, Nor pried the crowbar beneath Makise’s jaw, stepping to the side and twisting the teeth of the crowbar to avoid the spray of blood. Nor dragged Makise up the steps to the door and held Makise’s face in front of the retinal scanner next to the door. It beeped twice, flashed a green light, and opened.

A man stood on the opposite side of the door and fired his pistol. Nor put Makise’s head in the path of the bullet, then whipped Makise’s headless body at the guard, toppling him as she shed her overcoat. Nor wandered into the middle of the room, surrounded by Hakkou men, Omue men, and Imbasa men. Nor got a text on her phone. It was from Maia: Where the fuck did you go?? Eva sent one, too. There were men asking about Nor at the event. Nor slipped her phone into her pocket and looked around the room.

“Let’s hurry this up. My girlfriends are going to be pissed.”

* * *

“It’s like you’re gone,” Taikiko said, shoving Nor. Nor was drunk enough to lose her balance and fall on her ass. She banged her head on the hood of the car on the way down.

“Ow! What the Hell?”

Taikiko crossed her arms. “I know Raya was your friend, but what am I? You can’t shut down on me. You can’t do that.”

“I know it’s childish.” Nor wished she could do better. Taikiko deserved better than that, but she couldn’t think of what else to say. Nor shrugged. “You’re not her, though. No one can be her. Not even me, as much as I wish–”

“She’s dead and you’re not. Don’t wish to be with her. Wish to be here with me,” Taikiko said.

“If I had a wish, I would spend it to be back there in the burning building.”

“To save her?”

“No. That’s childish.” Nor smiled softly, knowing it would sound no more adult or reasonable to tell her girlfriend that she’d wish to live in that moment in that burning building, both of them together in the second before Nor stepped out of the window.

* * *

The head of security, a gruff, giant of a man named Benitaro stood at the top of the steps, dressed in bulletproof armor, holding a massive assault rifle in his arms. Firearms weren’t Nor’s specialty, but she could tell by the paint job that the rifle was something special to Benitaro. Likely something that had killed many men. “Whoever brings me Goro Norimi’s mangled body gets fifty thousand points!” Benitaro roared.

Nor stood with her crowbar in hand and loosened her necktie before drawing Yoshida’s pistol. She fired at the upper balcony while bullets rained down around her. Weaving between men carrying swords, chains, hatchets, and knives, she used them to take cover from Benitaro’s rifle and the men above, popping a few shots between smashing the skulls of Omue, Imbasa, and Hakkou thugs. Some of the Hakkou men lowered their weapons though. The men who knew Nor, had done jobs with her, seen her handiwork, or just knew not to tangle with someone so deadly. While Nor didn’t enjoy killing, she had done it many times. It came to her easier than it should have. Any time she heard one of these men scream as she cracked their temple open with her crowbar, she thought of Raya in the burning building with her. She’d killed for much less.

The thugs fired over the balcony at her, barking orders and shooting the thugs around her as she ducked behind them. Those who were overzealous enough to stay standing rather than seek cover were quickly shot between the eyes, through the throat, or center mass. Nor popped off one shot at a time before swinging her crowbar and using the next man as a meat shield. If she died before reaching that door, Nor would know that she did enough. She’d spilled enough blood for Raya. However, this was not enough blood to satisfy Nor.

Nor grabbed an armored Omue thug by her belt and the back of her neck and charged up the stairs at Benitaro. The woman in Nor’s arms peeled away, screaming for a second, then gurgling, then plopped behind Nor in pieces until Nor reached Benitaro holding in her hands a bloody, mangled torso. Benitaro gasped, unable to see Nor draw Yoshida’s katana and cut through both the torso and Benitaro. The perfect cut sliced Benitaro’s head open just above his eyes. Nor put her back to the wall, grabbed Benitaro’s hand and squeezed his finger over the trigger, spraying the entire upper floor with hot lead. When Benitaro’s magazine was empty, she let him topple over by her side. The few thugs who got up had little fight left in them. Nor bashed the heads in, collapsed their chests, broke ribs, shattered shins, and punctured internal organs, dismantling all those who got in her way.

Orowara guards stood closest to the panic room door. Nor stood among a pile of dead thugs, her sword clashing between two men. Of the five who were left, three of them had their backs to the panic room door, bats and knives drawn while Nor cut one man’s throat, then threw herself into him to avoid being run through by the man behind her. She tumbled, anticipating the second thug closing the distance to strike her while she was down, and rolled up onto her feet, cutting the man in half up the middle. The three men who were left shook where they stood. For the first time in minutes, Nor stopped to catch her breath, outpacing her implants. They stared at one another, none of them prepared to do their duty. Their duty was to die, after all.

The Orowara guard in the center lowered his baseball bat and said, “The code is 6-5-1-6-5-0.” The other men raised their hands in surrender.

Nor nodded. She sheathed Yoshida’s blade. “You’re Orowara men, right?”

“Not anymore. We’ll be lucky to make it out of town before they come for us…made men don’t run.”

Nor reached into her back pocket and handed each man a cigarette. She lit one for herself after giving them their starts. These lower level thugs rarely took up space in the VIP lounge, most of them young and fresh-faced or simple career criminals. No one of import was meant to know about this meeting. She let them leave before she approached the panic room door’s keypad, hungry for revenge.

* * *

Nor faced the open panic room door, looking upon three men sitting at a table. A trail of blood dripped from her crowbar. She pulled up an empty chair at the table. Three men and three empty chairs. “Expecting Hao Guiren and Yoshida?” she asked.

“I don’t know a Yoshida.” Rosserie smirked and folded his hands together. He was younger than Nor expected, probably barely eighteen years old. Laurent Rosserie was a young businessman, but he had to be in his mid-twenties. “Hucks? Orowara? Does that name ring a bell?”

As Nor expected, Hucks fidgeted, sweating in a stuffy jacket and tie. Gold Team Leader, Johnson Hucks, chewed his lip and drummed his fingers on the table. He shook his head, measuring his words before speaking.

Orowara Himura, an esteemed capo and experienced Orowara assassin, kept his hands in his lap. He tilted his head toward Nor and furrowed his brow. Long, silvered hair cascaded across his shoulders and over his robe. His eyes were those of an old hound tired of chasing down other mens’ hunting trophies. A flash of confusion crossed his frown. “Yoshida? Why would we expect Yoshida?”

“He just tried to off me and Hao Guiren.”

Orowara looked across the table at Rosserie. “You’re sitting in Hosu Taikiko’s seat. She called for this meeting. The other seat was for my brother, Laurent,” Rosserie said. “You see, I’m Claudien.”

“And you’re here, because…?” Nor stood up. Her chair flipped backwards onto the floor. Johnson jumped up and drew a pistol. He took one step back from the table.

“It’s been three years since the fire,” Orowara began. “My clan makes most of its moves through fraud, not drugs and prostitution like Hakkou or Omue. We may not be allies to Hakkou, but we certainly try not to step on toes. Our lawyers represent the Rosserie Family. The actual arsonist, Fen Harding, works for us. She was prepared to die in the fire, a loyal follower and believer.” I remembered Fen Harding kicking me and fighting me off her when I tried to get her out of the building. I’d jumped with her in my arms.

“Johnson, put the gun down,” Claudien Rosserie said. “We can end this without bloodshed.”

“Let’s not be unrealistic. Johnson’s here because he knows something that I don’t. Putting the gun down may not change tonight’s outcome,” Nor said. Her eyes flicked between the gun and Johnson’s hard stare. He wasn’t a killer. At least not in the ways that she was.

“God, I didn’t think a lowlife like you could be this fucking stupid,” Johnson Hucks chuckled. “I’m holding the gun. You’ve got a crowbar? I don’t care how many thugs you killed to get in here. Bullets kill. Not intentions.”

“Tell me about your intentions, then. Why are you in this room?”

Johnson shrugged. “The money’s dirty, but the only people who were supposed to die were gangsters, fanatics, and some shitty employees. If I do the math, that’s seven bad guys and one good guy. Pretty good for Raya, I figured. That’s probably more bad guys than she ever killed while deployed.”

“You killed her.”

“I helped. I knew I should’ve sabotaged your suit, but Raya was a hound about equipment checks. It could’ve jeopardized everything. In fact, I’ve never killed anyone before. I think I’m gonna enjoy this, though.”

Nor swung her crowbar, swatting the bullet out of the air before tumbling over the table, swinging again, shattering Johnson’s wrist. He was a big man, but not a trained killer like her. She flipped over the edge of the table and kicked him over the head with both legs. He flattened belly-down on the floor. He turned his head to one side, tried to get his arms under him, but opened his eyes as the head of the crowbar smashed through the bridge of his nose. The crowbar burrowed into his face, twisted, and cut his screaming short when his neck snapped. Nor looked up at the ceiling and yelled.

“Understand,” Claudien said, “Orowara and I worked out a deal that didn’t involve you or your friend. It was to be fraud, not murder. It was Hosu Taikiko who brought Johnson Hucks to the table. But I imagine this was the resolution we had in mind for both Johnson Hucks and Hao Guiren.”

“The others were meant to die in your original plan,” Nor said. “Innocent people.”

Orowara Himura cleared his throat and narrowed his eyes at Nor. She’d said the first thing which really surprised him. “Harding was and still is a devoted follower. She’s hardly innocent. And Hao Guiren was some freelance arsonist. These are not paragons of morality.”

“Hao Guiren, Carlos Estacado, and Mi Ruilin. I actually bumped into two of these three people tonight. They aren’t murderers.” Nor stood over Johnson’s seat, gripping her crowbar so hard her knuckles turned white.

Claudien Rosserie fell back in his chair like he’d been thrown into his seat. His smile fell, too. He could’ve reached for a gun, but he’d seen how easily Nor had dismantled Johnson. “Maybe a few more zeroes in your credit account would make you whole again. Only a living man could pay up, you see.”

“That’s one thing you and Laurent won’t have in common for long.” Nor walked behind Claudien, seized his arm and held his right hand onto the table. Two swings of the crowbar mangled his fingers while he screamed and thrashed, yet he was too scared to try to fight her off. Nor whispered in his ear. “When you see him, tell Laurent I’m coming for him.”

“That was incredibly stupid,” Orowara told her.

“It was under your purview. Who will look incompetent to Hakkou, Omue, and Imbasa?”

“Imbasa…” Orowara scoffed. “All this because Hakkou botched a job on an Imbasa lieutenant. All this because the Shinai pride was wounded and an heir to their clan was killed. Because your friend Yoshida was in Omue’s pocket. Your death was meant to cover up one of the biggest, most treacherous moves in the history of the yakuza. Hakkou, Omue, Imbasa, Orowara…they don’t care about any of us. That’s why, if you have any sense at all, you’ll realize that all of us have been set up.”

Nor stopped in front of Orowara Himura. “Call your men off.”

“Gladly, but did you stop to consider where Hosu Taikiko is if she’s not here? If she made a move that spit in the faces of several powerful clans?” Orowara’s voice grew more severe. A storm brewed above, its thunder rattling Bluefeathers. “Did you think she was at home soaking her feet?”

“Take me to her.”

* * *

Taikiko watched lightning pop in the night sky, those purple flashes between dead, empty buildings. Power outages had become more frequent in the condemned sectors. Residents bundled up and sealed windows and doors of old office buildings and suites for shelter. In a few hours, the blizzard would make the streets inaccessible for traditional vehicles. It wouldn’t be Taikiko’s problem for long, though. An airstrip at the edge of town had a shuttle idled, waiting for her. Despite the snow packing the tires of her car, she would get there in time. She would get on a shuttle out of Kokoru and take connecting flights from neighboring cities to neighboring countries to another world where the yakuza on Nodaikazamu would have little to no influence.

“Miss Hosu, we’ve received confirmation that Yoshida is dead,” one of her guards said.

The other guard added, “but we also have confirmation that Goro arrived at Bluefeathers. The only problem is that she didn’t kill Orowara.”

Taikiko rolled her eyes. “How are you sure?”

“Orowara is calling back his men and it sounds like Hakkou, Omue, and Imbasa are all in freefall. No one knows what’s going on, but they're not closing in on Goro,” the first man said, scratching below his ear. He adjusted his sunglasses, fussed with his earpiece a little more.

“The shuttle is ready. We’d better keep to the schedule,” the second man said.

The driver opened the window into the back of the car. “Ma’am, there’s someone in the road.” In his headlights, a bloody woman stood in a button-up and black slacks with a katana in the loop of her belt and a crowbar in her hand.

“Speed up! Don’t stop!” Taikiko shouted.

The car slammed into Nor, but the tires lost traction and the whole vehicle spun. When it finally stopped spinning, the driver screamed and jumped out of the car. “Fuck this!” He watched Nor climb out of the snow, glowing in the headlights. Her clothes were shredded, her body was bloody and bruised. When he turned and ran toward the back end of the car, Nor chased after him. Both of them vanished into a white screen of falling snow. His screams sounded from the emptiness.

Cold seeped into the car. The heat continued to blast from vents throughout the vehicle, but it was smothered at birth. Taikiko laid her tanto on her lap and hugged the little blade. Her men jumped out and drew their pistols. Gunfire broke out. Taikiko looked to her left as one of the guards took a bullet to the head and fired two shots down into the snow before falling stiff on his back. Taikiko scrambled out of the backseat and used the bulletproof door for cover, standing over the dead man.

“Hosu-san, get back in the car!” the other guard shouted.

She wished he hadn’t announced to the world that she left the car. She turned and ran for the driver’s seat. When she looked over her shoulder, she saw the guard throw his head back and fall to his knees. The shooting stopped. She put one foot in the door before she was tackled into the snow by Nor. Naked and warmed by her dermal implants, Nor always felt warm to Taikiko. It was part of what kept her so in love with Nor. Few people had been warm to Taikiko, not her parents, not her bosses, and certainly not her clients.

“So…” Taikiko asked, “Will you kill me?” Yoshida’s katana rested against her neck, her tanto pressed into Nor’s throat. Nor groaned, blood pouring from a bullet hole in her chest. “Can you kill me?”

Nor rolled off Taikiko and avoided the tip of the razorsteel blade. Taikiko stood, then hunched, shocked by the cold. “I see you killed Yoshida. He’d never let his family sword go.”

“You know?” Nor touched the hole below her breast, and looked at her bloody fingers. “You could’ve broken up with me. You didn’t have to kill me.”

“You’re wrong. I had to kill her, too. You and Raya Al-Ameen. Don’t you wish you died with her? You were in love with her and I was a plaything for you to take out your disdain and frustration. You should’ve died with her. I offered an end so generous that not even God could write such poetry.”

“I wasn’t in love with her.” Nor felt the fire at her back. That moment in that building, ready to leap from the window. She threw the scabbard into the snow as she drew Yoshida’s sword, then sprinted toward Taikiko. Taikiko deflected the first swing with her tanto, punched Nor in the mouth, and stepped back when Nor didn’t slow her advance. Taikiko bumped into the hood of the car, deflecting each of Nor’s strikes, but the cold was slowing her down and Nor only seemed to speed up. Taikiko drew a long streak across Nor’s cheek, held onto the hood for support, then felt Nor’s calf slap into her bottom jaw. Taikiko dropped the knife and leaned on the rumbling hood of the car. Nor twirled the katana in her hand, then plunged the blade through Taikiko’s hand, carving off her ring and pinky fingers from her right hand. Taikiko gasped, expecting to be dead already. Nor grabbed Taikiko’s suit and ripped away her jacket as Taikiko fell into the snow. The car died, rumbling and roaring in the dark, headlights going out. Nor kneeled next to Taikiko.

“I wanted to be her,” Nor said. She stood up and turned her back on Taikiko.

Taikiko looked around. The eyes of vagrants peered from dark windows, glistening in the abyss. “Kill me. Norimi, you need to kill me.”

Nor walked two steps, then collapsed into the snow.

Taikiko crawled up the hood of the car, shivering in the falling snow. Around her, she heard whispers in the dark, heard the crunching of footsteps. In these condemned sections, people would eat each other when food was scarce. Overwhelmed by the cold, Taikiko laid on the windshield, her blade lost somewhere in the snow, a layer already covering her body in a soft blanket.

* * *

Nor stood on the fire escape, staring down at the streets below. She held the frozen railing. Her cigarette tipped from her lips. It swished through a snowstorm, sinking into the city depths. Kokuro was a city that ate everything. Nothing went through Kokuro without getting chewed up. She gasped. She’d forgotten to breathe.

“Will you come in?” Eva asked, watching from the window. She never came outside with Nor. Like the fire escape was some sacred place that Eva was not yet fit to enter. Nor turned around, naked in the snow, unbothered by the cold. Eva crossed her arms. “Or would you just jump? I’m going back to bed.”

The wind whistled, then howled between the neon-lit buildings.

Pizza, Real Tobacco, Sweet Love–what these signs really said was a buzz that pushed back against the howling wind. Like everything native to Kokuro, these were candles burning in the rain.

Nor felt warmth in her memory. With Raya, in the Rosserie Building, she felt it. Nor walked to the window and stepped inside. She wrapped her arms around Eva. “I’m coming. I’m sorry.”