I drifted through sleep, my consciousness fragmenting into images that felt more like memories than dreams. I could still feel Miranda's soft skin against mine. I could vividly taste of her lips on mine. Her blue eyes staring into mine with a passionate intensity that made something in my chest move.
Then the images shifted.
Miranda stood in a room I didn't recognize, it seemed modern, looked expensive, and very sterile white. Across from her sat a woman whose face remained frustratingly obscured, her facial features were blurry like looking through frosted glass. She wore a white lab coat that had a hoodie that covered most of her face.
"Do this," the woman said, her voice distorted but familiar in a way I couldn't quite place, "and your sister's safety is guaranteed. The bonus is your father will never bother either of you again."
Miranda's posture was rigid, yet controlled. "And if I refuse?"
"You can take your chances, but Oriana might find herself one day exactly where you are, should he find her again. Under his control and his property. But no hope of escape." The woman leaned forward, and Jasen caught a glimpse of brown skin hands, they looked like they could belong to a woman. "You know what he'll do to her eventually. But it will be a lot worse then what he did to you."
Miranda's hands clenched. "What do you want from me?"
Then as the woman began to speak the dream fractured. Images scattering like broken glass as I awoke. The Morning light filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the hotel suite, casting long shadows across the rumpled sheets. I turned, reaching for Miranda, but the space was empty.
Jasen sat up, he focused his enhanced senses immediately cataloging and searching the room. Her clothes were gone, there was no sound from the nearby bathroom. Her scent still lingered around the room, but was slightly feint like she left sometime ago. There was no emotional signature lingering in his psychic sense.
There was just absence where she should be. That's when his eyes found the nightstand. There laid a single piece of hotel stationery lay folded there, his designation written in elegant script across the front: Thirteen.
Jasen picked it up, unfolded it with careful precision.
Thirteen...
I wanted to thank you for everything. For helping me escape, and giving me a choice, and for last night.
This is the only way I know how to do this. I've never been good at goodbyes, and I didn't want to make this harder than it already is.
My time with you will always be part of my memories. No matter what happens next, no matter where life takes me, I'll remember the boy who showed me what freedom feels like.
Don't ever change .
Love,
Miranda
I read it twice, my analytical mind processing the words but I still fell nothing from it. My mind was clear like normal, and she left, just like I knew she would.
So far things are gone just as I predicted. Even though I hadn't expected last night to happen. Miranda had made her choice, and that choice will lead her to Cerberus. One day she might possibly be my enemy if she wasn't already.
Jasen set the letter down and stood, moving to the window. Vancouver spread out below him, the city waking to another day. Traffic sounds drifted up from the streets. Somewhere in the distance, a ship's horn echoed across the harbor.
He thought about the dream. About the woman whose face he couldn't see. About the conversation hear couldn't hear, too details were missing for him to use his imagination to fill in the blanks. He still don't know how his ability worked. Jasen felt like it had a mind of it's own, since could never tell how to use it.
The dead test subjects, Ela, Miranda.
That was a memory of a conversation Miranda was having. Probably with her so called benefactor, did she not know who she was either. Not to mention is seems to much like a coincidence that when I talk about killing Lawson, I get a mysterious message saying it was a good idea. Which means my theory of Cerberus watching me has gone from forty-nine percent to sixty-eight percent.
That also raises another question.
What I felt last night. It was something beyond my usual strategic thinking. It was a familiar sensation, one I haven't felt since my past life since I woke up in this world, in a child's body. It felt like an urge that bordered on compulsion, a pull toward Miranda that defied my usual emotional detachment.
I was drawn to her, I thought, trying to analyze the sensation with clinical precision. It made no sense. Even when she was half naked around me for weeks I felt nothing. But why was last night different?
I decided to file this experience away in my mind and omni tool for later. I need to watch myself and observe if it happens again. If this was some aspect of my hybrid physiology, some unique expression of puberty or genetic compatibility, he needed to understand it, and Control it before it controlled me.
"Well I guess it's a good thing Miranda is infertile. I definitely didn't pull out, and we didn't use protection either."
That's when Jasen notice something on the white bed sheets. He smelled it as well. It tinge of coppery smell as well as a small red stain where Miranda had laid.
Jasen eyes narrowed in a slight surprised expression.
"No way, was she...."
That's when his omni-tool flared to life on his wrist, the orange holographic interface projecting a small notification on his wrist. Cutting off his current train of thought.
It was from Jane
Jane: Thirteen, we got a job from the Yakuza. Meet me at the psychic's shop.
I exhaled slowly, pushing the thoughts of Miranda aside. It was time to focus on work. No rest for the wicked, I guess.
I got dressed quickly, checked my concealed pistol and the small knife strapped to my ankle. I Activated my omni-tool's encryption protocols, and wiped any trace of his presence from the hotel's systems.
By the time I left the suite, it was as if I was never there at all.
Some time later....
I approached the shop, my psychic sense brushing against the emotional signatures along the the small number of people on the early morning streets.
I pushed open the door.
The interior was exactly as he remembered, dim lighting, warm air thick with incense, shelves lined with tarot decks and occult paraphernalia. Jazz music played softly from hidden speakers, a saxophone solo weaving through the quiet.
Jane stood near the entrance, dressed in baggy sweatpants and a designer hoodie, her red hair pulled back in a ponytail. She looked up as Jasen entered, one eyebrow raised.
"Where have you been?" she asked.
"Miranda was treating me to a goodbye dinner," Jasen said evenly. "We ended up staying out all night. Why?"
"It's nothing. I just haven't seen you since yesterday, and Victoria said you weren't at the condo."
"Well, I'm here now." Jasen glanced around the shop. "What's the job?"
Jane gestured toward the back. "Madame Fool's waiting for you."
They walked together through the beaded curtain into the reading room. Madame Fool sat at a small table, sipping tea from a delicate porcelain cup. The jazz music was louder here, filling the space with a melancholy rhythm.
Jasen met her gaze. "Didn't take you for a jazz lover."
Fool's expression remained cold, emotionless behind her large round glasses. "There are a lot of things you don't know about me, kid."
She touched her omni-tool, and two data packets appeared in Jasen and Jane's interfaces.
"These are the details," Fool said, her voice flat. "An Italian mob outfit is moving into our territory. They've set up operations in a nightclub, and the boss wants this taken care of."
I opened the file and began processing the information in seconds.
TARGET: Salvatore Russo, Italian mob lieutenant
LOCATION: Club Inferno, renovated warehouse at 4th and Maritime
PERSONNEL: Estimated 50+ armed guards, mix of human and alien muscle
OPERATION: Drug distribution, weapons trafficking, protection rackets
THREAT LEVEL: High - encroaching on established Yakuza territory
Multiple images accompanied the data, surveillance photos of the club's exterior, thermal scans showing heat signatures inside, facial recognition tags on known associates. The building was close, a little too close to the Runaway House. If the Italians established a foothold there, it would only be a matter of time before they started recruiting from the street kids. Or worse
Jasen's mind already knew what needed to be done and formulated a plan. "Consider it done," he said. "We'll take care of them before the end of the day."
Jane looked at him sharply. "When do you want to do this? And how?"
"Before lunch. I want to get some sleep after and eat."
"You want to do this in broad daylight?" Jane's voice carried clear concern.
Fool spoke before Jasen could respond. "By the way, if you two get caught by the police, we will deny any involvement. And we'll kill you in jail." She paused, sipping her tea. "Well, maybe. Who knows."
"You're not helping," Jane muttered. She turned back to Jasen. "Thirteen, you can't think this is a good idea."
Jasen studied the building schematics, his mind already mapping approach vectors and exit routes. The nightclub was a converted warehouse, large open floor plan, multiple levels, good sight lines. If they could take it intact... this could be a good place to launder his money, and stayed informed in the underground world of the galaxy. Well Earth for the most part.
"I want the nightclub," he said. "As part of my payment."
Fool's eyes narrowed behind her glasses. "The building?"
"Yes. You take out the Italian operation, I take ownership of the property. It's a good location, and I can use it."
Fool was quiet for a long moment. Then she nodded. "Fine. Not that I had any use for it anyway."
"Good." Jasen closed the file. "Is there anything else?"
"Just one thing." Fool set down her teacup with deliberate precision. "Make sure Salvatore Russo dies. The boss wants to send a message."
"Understood."
Jasen turned to leave, but Fool's voice stopped him. "You're wearing the same clothes as yesterday," she observed. "And you smell like expensive perfume."
Jasen met her gaze, his expression neutral. He didn't know how she knew that but, it was clear he was being watched. All he could do is remain calm, which wasn't hard. "Your point?"
"No point. Just an observation." Her lips curved in something that might have been a smile. "Enjoy your goodbye dinner?"
I didn't answer. I Just walked out, Jane following behind. Then he stopped remembering what he was wearing and looked back to Fool. "Mind if I borrow some clothes?"
Thirty minutes later, Jasen and Jane stood on a rooftop adjacent to Club Inferno, looking down at the target building.
The warehouse conversion was obvious, old industrial bones wrapped in modern aesthetics. Large windows had been cut into the brick facade, and a neon sign reading INFERNO glowed even in daylight. The main entrance featured heavy steel doors and a velvet rope line that looked absurd in the empty street.
Guards patrolled the perimeter,four visible from their vantage point, probably more inside. Jasen's enhanced vision picked out the bulges of concealed weapons, the tactical earpieces, the professional spacing that suggested military training.
"Fifty guards seems accurate," Jane said quietly. "Maybe more."
Jasen activated his omni-tool, scanning the building's security systems. Cameras covered the main approaches, motion sensors on the roof access, biometric locks on the side entrances. Standard corporate security, well-implemented.
Inside, he could see movement through the windows, prep crew cleaning, bartenders stocking shelves, servers setting up tables. And deeper in the building, in what looked like a converted office space, a cluster of heat signatures that didn't move.
The boss and his inner circle, Jasen thought.
"How do you want to do this?" Jane asked.
I pulled my hood up and wrapped a scarf around the lower half of my face, leaving only my eyes visible. "I'm going in quiet. Stealth approach, to take out the boss, and create chaos from the inside."
"And me?"
"You're the distraction. Head to the front entrance, and draw some attention, but keep it controlled. I need them focused on you while I move. Plus we don't want the regular people caught up in this."
"But if they draw a weapon on you cut loose."
Jane's expression shifted to concern. "You want me to just walk up and start punching through the front door?"
"No. I want you to figure out what works for you." Jasen met her gaze. "You're just as strong as me. You could literally kick the front door off its hinges if you wanted. So you decide, loud and hot, or precise and smart. I trust you."
Jane was quiet for a moment, processing. Then she nodded. "I can do this."
"I know you can."
Jasen moved to the edge of the roof, as purple eezo energy began to radiate around his body. The air distorted, as gravity loosening its grip.
He stepped off.
The fall was controlled, his biotics cushioning his descent. As he dropped three stories in near-silence, landing in a crouch in the narrow alley between buildings. His psychic sense rippled outward, checking for observers. As his kinetic vision picked up on the movements and how close they were.
He was clear.
He moved along the building's side, staying in the camera blind spots he'd mapped earlier. The prep crew was focused on their work, and the guards were watching the street approaches, not the vertical angles.
A service entrance sat recessed into the wall, biometric lock, reinforced door. Jasen activated his omni-tool and began the bypass sequence. The lock was expensive but predictable, designed to keep out casual intruders, not someone with military-grade level hacking tools.
The door clicked open in under twenty seconds.
Inside, the warehouse was all exposed brick and industrial lighting. The main floor had been converted into a club space, dance floor, bar, VIP sections elevated on platforms. But the back areas still showed their warehouse origins, concrete floors, steel support beams, loading dock access.
Jasen moved through the shadows, his enhanced speed turning careful steps into near-invisibility. His psychic sense guided him past two guards stationed near the loading dock, both focused on their omni-tools rather than their surroundings.
Sloppy, he thought. Good it works in my favor.
He reached a stairwell leading to the upper level. The office space where the boss would be. Three more guards visible on the landing above, talking in low voices. Jasen pulled the pistol from his waistband, applied a suppressor, and started climbing.
Outside, Jane approached the main entrance with measured steps.
The guard stationed there was massive, easily seven feet tall, heavily muscled, with the kind of build that suggested krogan ancestry somewhere in his family tree, even though he was human. He wore a suit that barely contained his frame, and his expression was professionally bored.
He raised one hand as Jane approached. "This is private property," he said in a thick Russian accent. "Please leave."
Jane stopped a few feet away, her posture relaxed but ready. "I need to see your boss."
The guard looked her up and down, his expression shifting to something between amusement and dismissal. "You're too young to be his type."
"Yeah," Jane said, her voice carrying just the right mix of irritation and confidence. "I'm his bastard daughter. My mom has the same red hair as me."
The guard's expression changed. He stared at her for a long moment, then muttered something in Russian that Jane didn't catch. His hand moved to his earpiece.
"Boss," he said in English, "there's a girl here. Red hair. Says she's your daughter." A pause. Then the guard's eyes widened slightly.
"Da, boss. I understand." He looked at Jane with new wariness. "He says to bring you inside. But if you're lying,"
"I'm not lying, I swear" Jane said firmly.
The guard opened the door.
Jasen reached the upper level and pressed himself against the wall, listening. Three guards, just around the corner. Talking about last night's football match, complaining about the early shift, discussing where to get lunch.
That's when Jasen moved. The first guard went down with a strike to the base of his skull, a crack could be heard, He crumpled without a sound.
The second guard turned, reaching for his weapon, but Jasen was faster. A palm strike to the solar plexus, followed by a knee to the face as the man doubled over. He hit the floor hard as blood escaped his mouth.
The third guard managed to draw his pistol, but Jasen's biotics flared. Purple energy wrapped around the weapon and yanked it from the man's grip. It clattered across the floor as Jasen closed the distance and delivered a precise strike to the chest. The guard collapsed as Jasen heard his heart stop.
Jasen dragged all three bodies into a nearby supply closet, relieving them of their weapons and earpieces. Two pistols, one submachine gun, three spare thermal clips. He pocketed the ammunition and kept one of the pistols as backup.
The earpiece crackled to life. "Boss, there's a girl here. Red hair. Says she's your daughter."
A pause. Then a man's voice, smooth and cultured with an Italian accent: "Bring her to my office. I want to see this for myself."
Jasen smiled behind his scarf. Perfect timing, Jane.
He moved down the corridor toward the office, his footsteps silent on the industrial carpet. The door at the end was marked PRIVATE in brushed steel letters.
Behind it, he could sense multiple emotional signatures. Anticipation. Curiosity. And underneath it all, the cold satisfaction of someone who believed they controlled the situation.
Salvatore Russo.
Jasen checked his weapons one last time, then positioned himself beside the door, waiting. Below, he heard the main entrance open. Footsteps on the stairs. Jane's voice, calm and controlled, playing her role perfectly.
The office door would open in approximately thirty seconds. Jasen's biotics began to shimmer around his hands, purple energy coiling like smoke.
Let's see how well you handle chaos, he thought. And waited for Jane to make her entrance.