J. Mitchell - Midnight City

Cesar considered her as she spoke, his face unreadable.

“I was at the Scorewall earlier,” Mira continued. “I saw the totals, saw how much further ahead they are than you. Even further than when I left. And what have you been doing about it, Cesar?” She looked up at the graffiti winding through the brightly lit stalactites, unimpressed. “Painting on a ceiling.”

Cesar took a slow, dangerous step toward her. Holt moved forward as well, but Mira held up a hand. As much as he didn’t like it, he stopped and watched Cesar slowly inch toward her like a wolf.

“Nowhere in any of that did I hear an answer to my question,” he said.

“I wanna break into the Gray Devils compound,” Mira replied. “And I want your help to do it.”

The laughter from the faction members echoed all around them in the large room. Cesar, however, did not laugh.

“You know the caverns better than any faction,” she continued, “especially the unmapped areas. It’s a source of a lot of Points for you. I’m betting you know secret ways into pretty much every main cavern or compound in the system.”

Cesar studied her evenly, weighing things. “Maybe. Maybe not. Even if I did, why would I risk helping a treacherous, double-dealing little Freebooter like you?”

“Aw, Cesar,” Mira said with a slight smile. “Name calling? Really?”

“When you’re caught,” Cesar said, ignoring her, “and word comes down how you got inside, someone’s gonna lose Points for that. And you don’t got any more Points, which means it’ll be Los Lobos who loses ’em.”

“You’re right,” Mira said. “But only if I get caught. If I pull it off, the Gray Devils are the ones who are going to lose Points. A lot of them. Probably enough to reestablish you as the Prime Movers.”

Murmurings from Los Lobos filled the air, ideas and calculations passing through the hall. Mira had their attention now.

“The Gray Devils say you’re a Point Fabricator,” Cesar said.

“The Gray Devils say a lot of things. You’re not stupid—you know that’s not true,” Mira replied. “They lied to make a problem go away.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me. Lenore’s the best liar I’ve ever seen, and she’s lied about far less,” Cesar said, musing. “But it’s the ‘problem’ you mention that I wonder about. They have something of yours, don’t they? What is it? An artifact, something you built? Whatever it is, it must be incredibly valuable or incredibly dangerous for them to go to these lengths to get rid of you.”

“That’s my business and no one else’s,” Mira said sharply.

Cesar shrugged and stepped away from her, pacing in the huge cavern, thinking. “So maybe you do pull it off, maybe you steal back whatever it is they took, maybe you reveal them for the lying, pathetic losers they are—that would definitely drop their total a lot. But that’s a lot of maybes, and you’re just one Freebooter and one Outsider.”

“We have a dog and a little girl, too,” Holt said.

Cesar ignored him. “I still don’t see why it’s worth all the risk for me to help you. Help me understand.”

“Happy to,” Mira said, reaching into her pack. The guards around her all tensed, but Cesar waved them down in annoyance. She pulled free the glass cylinder with the brownish sliver of plutonium still floating within the clear liquid inside. The Dampener was still attached by its watchband.

When Cesar saw it, his eyes widened. It was the first time since the conversation began that Holt had seen the Lobos leader surprised or off balance.

“Is that… what I think it is?” Cesar asked.

“How long have you been trying to mount a Severed Tower expedition, Cesar? Two years? Three? I wonder how many Points entering the Tower is worth these days.” Mira said with a smile, “You get me into the Gray Devils compound… you can find out.”

Cesar gazed at the plutonium lustfully a moment more, then tore his eyes away and looked at one of his boys standing nearby, a giant of a kid who towered over the others, with a black ponytail and a wicked-looking hunting knife on his belt. “Marcus, answer this Freebooter’s question. You need to check the maps?”

“Nah,” the big kid responded. “There’s two ways into the Devils’ caverns, both side chutes that connect through the Crawlway. They’re tight, no fun pushing through ’em, but they’ll get her there.”

“Where do they come out?” Mira asked.

“One near the lab, the other in a hallway deeper in, near the residences, I think, by the falls.”

“I want the one near the residences,” Mira said.

Cesar studied her. “Guess it would be useless of me to ask for the plutonium in advance?”

“Useless isn’t the right word.” Mira smiled.

“Then two of my boys go with you, Marcus and someone else,” Cesar announced. “Just to make sure you feel like paying up once all’s said and done.”

Mira shrugged. “If that’s how it needs to be, then fine.”

Cesar’s eyes raked over her. “Either way, Mira Toombs, things go to plan, or things go to hell, you and I won’t be seeing each other again. You’re through in Midnight City. But you knew that coming in. There ain’t no coming back from Unmentionable.”

“This place has always cramped my style anyway,” Mira replied. Holt was impressed by her composure, how she didn’t give off even a slight hint at the pain he knew she felt at the words.

HOLT PUSHED MAX FORWARD through the unbelievably tight cavern tunnel, but the dog was less than cooperative. He struggled every few feet, whining and sometimes growling. “Max, just move!” Holt whispered roughly as he shoved on the dog’s rear. He was afraid to make too much noise. Marcus had sent word down the line that they were getting close to the Gray Devils now, and they needed to be quiet.

The Lobo was easily one of the biggest kids Holt had ever seen, all muscle and built like an oak tree. He looked like he was carved out of granite, and for the life of him, Holt couldn’t figure out how the kid managed to fit through the horror they were traversing right now, much less remain calm.

The “Crawlway” was a densely packed collection of cavern tunnels that wound through most of the system’s larger rooms, and the name was definitely deserved. For Holt, it was a claustrophobic nightmare, a tunnel so tight, he had to keep his hands stretched out in front of him, because it wasn’t wide enough to fit with them at his sides.

The first hundred feet or so hadn’t been too bad, but now the novelty had definitely worn off. He felt buried alive, like the walls were pushing in on him and the tunnel was shrinking the farther they moved through it.

Max was enjoying the experience even less, it seemed.

“Max, you can do it, wiggle like a worm!” he heard Zoey say encouragingly from the other side of the dog. There was no trace of discomfort or uneasiness in her voice, but then again, she was the smallest one out of all of them. Hell, she was probably having fun.

Max whined and moved forward, following Zoey’s voice, and Holt sighed in relief. He crawled forward through the crushing tunnel, foot after foot, until he looked up and noticed Max was no longer in front of him.

In fact, nothing was, just a wall of darkness. Holt shone his light ahead, but it didn’t help much. The rock was so black, you couldn’t tell if you’d lit up a wall or were looking at shadow.

Holt eyed the darkness ahead warily. “Max? Zoey?” No answer, no sound at all. How could they have disappeared so fast?

He pulled himself cautiously forward, conscious of the rock pressing down on him. There was still no sign of—

The floor fell away from under him as the tunnel made a sudden, sharp descent downward.