Madripoor hit like a physical blow—oppressive heat, humidity that made breathing difficult, and an underlying scent of violence that permeated everything.
We arrived separately to avoid suspicion. Silver first, using her existing contacts to establish our base of operations. Then Elektra and I, posing as representatives of a wealthy collector interested in exotic acquisitions. Felicia came last, her cover as an independent information broker giving her access to different social circles.
The safehouse was in Lowtown—the poorer, more dangerous section of Madripoor. A converted warehouse that was defensible if not comfortable, tucked between other abandoned buildings where gunfire was a nightly occurrence.
"Welcome to paradise," Silver said dryly as we entered, scanning for threats out of habit. "First rule of Madripoor: trust no one. Second rule: everything is for sale, including loyalty. Third rule: violence is the universal language."
"Cheerful," Felicia muttered, checking the windows. "How long until the auction?"
"Thirty-six hours. Which means we have tonight to establish our covers at the social gatherings, tomorrow to finalize our approach, and then the auction itself." Silver pulled up tactical displays on a battered laptop. "The pre-auction event is at the Princess Bar tonight. Hightown. That's where bidders meet, form alliances, negotiate."
I reached out with my telepathy, scanning the surrounding blocks. The mental landscape of Madripoor was chaotic—hundreds of minds, many of them violent, desperate, predatory. Enhanced individuals were common here, far more than in New York proportionally.
"This place is crawling with augmented criminals," I reported. "I'm reading at least forty enhanced minds within a mile radius."
"Madripoor attracts them," Silver explained. "No extradition, no heroes enforcing law. It's a paradise for people with powers and no morals."
Elektra was checking her weapons—sai, throwing knives, garrotes. "The Hand has operations here. If they recognize me—"
"They won't," I assured her. "You've changed since leaving them. Different hair, different bearing. And I can cloud recognition if needed."
She nodded, but I felt her tension through the air. Coming back to this world, even temporarily, was bringing up old demons.
"The Princess Bar," Silver continued. "Dress code is expensive and dangerous. Show wealth and power, or be dismissed as unworthy. I've arranged appropriate attire and documents. Your covers will hold up to casual scrutiny."
"And if someone digs deeper?" I asked.
"Then we deal with them. This is Madripoor." Silver's expression was flat. "Murder is just another transaction here. Don't hesitate if it comes to that."
-----
After securing our gear and establishing emergency protocols, Felicia pulled me aside.
"We need to talk," she said, leading me to a corner of the warehouse that passed for privacy. "About what happened last night. With Silver."
I tensed. "Are you upset?"
"What? No." She smiled, but there was something else in her expression. "I'm glad she's joining us. She's been circling for months, and it's good to have her commit. But Marcus… we're heading into a warzone. And I need—"
She didn't finish the sentence. Just pulled me into a kiss that was hungry and desperate, months of watching me prepare for this mission finally breaking through her usual confidence.
"I need to feel you," she said against my lips. "Before we go out there where everything could go wrong. I need this."
"Here?" The warehouse was hardly romantic—concrete floors, exposed pipes, the distant sound of gunfire outside.
"I don't care. I just need you. Now."
I understood. This wasn't about romance or comfort—it was about connection before danger, about reminding ourselves what we were fighting for.
I backed her against the wall, my hands already working on her clothes. She reciprocated, freeing my cock from my pants while I pushed her tactical pants down her hips.
"Quick and hard," she breathed. "We don't have time for slow."
I lifted her, her legs wrapping around my waist, and thrust into her in one motion. She was already wet, ready for me, and the sensation made us both groan.
The position was rough—concrete wall digging into her back, my grip on her hips tight enough to bruise—but she urged me on, nails raking down my shoulders.
"Fuck, yes," she gasped. "Harder. Make me forget about tomorrow."
I obliged, pounding into her with desperate intensity. This wasn't our usual playful intimacy—this was raw need, fear transmuted into physical connection.
She came first, biting my shoulder to muffle her cry. The sensation pushed me over the edge, and I spilled inside her with a groan.
We stayed like that for a moment, both breathing hard, pressed together against the wall.
"Better?" I asked.
"Getting there." She kissed me again, softer this time. "I love you. And I'm terrified of losing you in this shithole city."
"You won't. We're all coming home." I set her down gently. "Together."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
-----
That evening, Elektra and I prepared for the Princess Bar.
She emerged from the back room in a black dress that was both elegant and dangerous, cut to allow freedom of movement while concealing multiple weapons. Her hair was styled differently, makeup subtle but transformative.
"You clean up well," I observed.
"You too." She adjusted my tie, her fingers lingering. "Nervous?"
"A little. This is the biggest infiltration we've attempted."
"Then let me give you something to focus on." She pulled me into a kiss that was unexpected—Elektra rarely initiated physical contact, her comfort with intimacy still developing after years of Hand conditioning.
When she pulled back, her eyes were serious. "Whatever happens tonight, remember you're not alone. I'm with you. Always."
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet." She checked her concealed weapons one final time. "Let's go be criminals."
The Princess Bar was everything I'd expected—opulent, dangerous, and filled with people who made international news when they died.
Crystal chandeliers hung from ceilings carved from Madripoor bedrock. Expensive alcohol flowed freely. And everywhere, the criminal elite of the world mingled, made deals, and sized each other up.
I reached out carefully with my telepathy, scanning without touching. The mental signatures here were intense—professional killers, corrupt politicians, arms dealers, human traffickers. The cumulative weight of their crimes pressed against my psychic senses.
"Marcus Cole and Elektra Natchios," a smooth voice said. A woman approached—Asian, beautiful, dangerous. I recognized her from intelligence briefings: Tyger Tiger, one of Madripoor's most powerful crime lords.
"A pleasure," I replied, keeping my expression neutral.
"Doubtful." She gestured to a private booth. "Join me. Let's discuss what really brings someone of your particular talents to my city."
The booth was soundproofed with advanced technology—electromagnetic shielding and what felt like psychic dampening. Clever. She was preventing eavesdropping both electronic and mental.
"I'll be direct," Tyger Tiger said once we were seated. "You're here for the auction. The Dominator technology. But you're not representing any organization I recognize. Which means either you're freelance or lying about your affiliations."
Fuck. She'd made us already.
"And if we are lying?" Elektra asked calmly, her hand near a concealed weapon.
"Then I'm about to offer you a deal that makes your deception irrelevant." Tyger Tiger pulled out a data chip. "The auction is compromised. AIM is planning to steal the technology rather than bid for it. They're bringing a strike team—twenty enhanced soldiers with full augmentation and psionic dampeners."
"Why tell us?" I asked suspiciously.
"Because an AIM attack during the auction destabilizes my city's careful balance. I want the auction to proceed peacefully. You want to secure the technology. Our interests align." She slid the chip across. "This contains their attack plan. Use it to stop them, and I'll ensure your safe extraction afterward."
I touched the chip carefully, scanning it with my telepathy by proxy through nearby electronic devices. The data appeared legitimate—detailed tactical plans, personnel files, entry points.
"What's your price?" Elektra asked.
"Just stop AIM. That's all." Tyger Tiger stood. "Enjoy the party. And Cole? I know what you are. My neural augmentation prevents telepathic intrusion. Don't try anything foolish."
She walked away, leaving us with more questions than answers.
"Trap?" Elektra asked quietly.
"Maybe. But the data checks out." I pulled out my phone, texting Silver. "We need to adjust our plans."
We stayed at the party for another hour, making contacts and establishing our cover. When we finally returned to the safehouse, it was late and everyone was on edge.
"Twenty enhanced soldiers with psionic dampeners," Silver said grimly, reviewing the data. "That's not a security force. That's an army."
"Then we'll need to be smarter than them," I replied. "Not stronger. Smarter."
As the team discussed strategy, I caught Elektra watching me with an expression I couldn't quite read. Later, after the others had dispersed to sleep, she found me on the warehouse's roof, looking out at Madripoor's lights.
"Can't sleep?" she asked, sitting beside me.
"Too much to think about."
"Or too afraid of what tomorrow brings." She leaned against me slightly. "I know the feeling. Before every major mission with the Hand, I'd spend the night before unable to sleep, playing through scenarios."
"How did you handle it?"
"By remembering why I was fighting. What I was protecting." She looked at me. "You've given me something I never had with the Hand—purpose beyond just killing. A reason to fight that doesn't make me hate myself."
"Elektra—"
"Let me finish." She took my hand. "Thank you. For seeing past what I was, for helping me become something more. Whatever happens tomorrow, I need you to know that."
"We're all coming home," I told her. "That's not negotiable."
She smiled slightly. "Good. Because I've gotten used to having a family. I'd hate to lose it now."
We sat together in comfortable silence, two warriors preparing for battle, finding strength in each other's presence.
Tomorrow would bring violence and danger. But tonight, we had this—connection, trust, family.
And that was worth fighting for.