The next night, Lucius sat on a building ledge, eating takeout with his legs dangling over a six-story drop. The city sprawled below, neon bleeding into the darkness.
His comm device buzzed. Amber.
He tapped it. "Yeah?"
"Hey. Just wanted to give you an update." Her voice carried that exhausted edge it always did. "I'm getting close to cracking the auction date. Maybe another week, week and a half tops."
Lucius paused mid-bite. "That fast? You said a few days last time."
"Yeah, that's what I thought too. Cracked the language, but the encryption is more complex than I thought. But I'm making progress."
"Good." Lucius set down his food. "Because I still have to go in."
"Wait, what? Go in where?"
"The underground. Tournament. Long story, but it's my best shot at finding the kid."
Silence. Then: "Lucius, once you go in, you're going dark. No tech, no comms. The Big Boys don't play around with security down there."
"I know."
"So if I crack the date while you're inside—"
"Then you'll have to find a way to reach me, or I find a way to reach you—whichever comes first." Lucius leaned back. "But if the auction's most likely coming up soon and I can't get word, I'll just abort. Find a way out, abandon the kid for now. Auction takes priority."
Another pause. Amber's typing stopped. "You sure about this?"
"No. But it's the play we've got." He stood, brushing crumbs from his jacket. "Just crack that date. I'll handle the rest."
"Alright. Good luck. And Lucius?"
"Yeah?"
"Don't die down there. I don't want to explain to Jasmine why I let you do something stupid."
"When have I ever done anything stupid?"
"You want that list alphabetically or chronologically?"
Lucius smiled despite himself. "I'll check in when I'm out."
The line went dead.
He pulled out his burner phone.
---
"Hey, it's Tony. Found your backdoor. I set the meet for tonight. I gave the guy the name 'Ford'—figured you wouldn't want me throwing your real name around to the underworld, not that i know your real name."
"What are you talking about?" Lucius asked, deadpan. "Cornelius is my real name."
Tony chuckled, the sound raspy through the cheap speaker. "Yeah, we both know that's not true. Anyway, the guy's willing to talk, but he wants a deposit just to establish the meet."
"How much?"
"Fifty thousand. New Won."
Lucius paused. Fifty thousand New Won wasn't street change. With the New Won currently sitting at the absolute apex of the global market, fifty grand was enough to buy a small apartment in the outer rings. It was a steep price just to establish a meeting.
But it wasn't an issue. Not for him.
Lucius ran the math in his head. "So you're taking a thirty percent cut and giving the guy the rest?"
"Ah, you know me too well."
"You corrupt bastard."
"Hey, I told you yesterday, the divorce wasn't cheap. Lawyers are bloodsuckers," Tony replied, unashamed. "I've sent you the account details. Once it clears, head to the scrapyard on East Industrial. The guy I told you about will be waiting."
Tony's voice dropped slightly. "He'll handle everything. Just do as he says."
"Alright. Understood."
Lucius pulled out his actual phone, transferred the funds with a few swipes, and stared at both devices in his hands. He'd have to ditch them before going into the underground.
He dropped down from the ledge and headed for Robert's bike.
---
The scrapyard was exactly what it sounded like—rusted metal corpses stacked in precarious towers, oil-stained ground, the smell of decay and industry. Lucius killed the engine, dismounted, and checked his surroundings.
This should be the place. So where was the guy?
A sharp whistle cut through the silence.
Lucius turned. A man emerged from between two mountains of scrap metal, flanked by a group of thugs. Big guy—easily six-three, built like a brick wall. Scarred face, carrying the heavy confidence of a man who survived the underworld by being the meanest thing in it.
"Yo, are you Ford?"
"Yeah. And you must be the guy."
Tank walked forward, and they dapped—the universal handshake of people doing illegal business. "Name's Tank. All the arrangements have been made. Just follow me."
Lucius fell in step beside him. Tank's crew followed at a distance as they headed deeper into the scrapyard, toward a half-buried concrete structure that looked like a forgotten Cold War bunker.
Tank gestured for his guys to wait outside. The heavy metal door groaned open.
Inside, the space was sparse. A desk, some chairs, a single flickering light. Maps on the walls, most of them marked with locations Lucius recognized from Green Gate intel.
Tank leaned against the desk, arms folded. "So you're the one I've heard so much about."
"Yeah, yeah. Let's skip the chit-chat and get straight to the point."
Tank smirked, amused by the impatience. "Alright. As you know, there's only one way to get to the underground, and the Big Boys hold exclusive rights to it. Going in without their permission is practically impossible."
"I'm aware of that much."
"And you'd also know that anyone who tries to force their way in never makes it back out," Tank said, his voice lowering. "If they aren't killed outright, they're found wandering the streets a week later with their brains turned to mush. They've got security measures down there that don't just break your body. They break your mind."
Lucius kept his face carefully blank. "I'll take my chances. Let's skip to the part where you tell me how you're getting me in."
"Good. To put it simply, sneaking you in through the front door is off the table. Registration is completely closed, and the tournament prep is already well underway. You can't just walk in as a new guy."
"So what's the play?"
"I already have one of my guys on the inside," Tank explained. "He's registered under the alias 'King.' However, the probability of him winning is close to zero. There are some real dangerous fuckers participating this year. But with my... special talents, I can get things past their walls. It just depends on the payload. Mass, size, quantity."
Lucius narrowed his eyes, processing the word. Payload. He wasn't talking about breaking down a door.
"You're not sneaking me in," Lucius said slowly. "You're swapping us. Spatial displacement. we are trading places."
Tank's grin widened. "You're quick on the uptake. Yeah, exactly. You'll take his place in the tournament. Everything on his end is already handled, so you'll be practically undiscoverable."
"Okay. Understandable."
"However, there's one more thing."
"What?"
"From what your cop buddy told me, you're quite capable. You could end up winning this tournament." Tank's smile turned predatory. "So if you do, I'll be needing sixty percent of the reward money."
Lucius blinked. "Wait, wait, wait. I thought I already paid you."
"Yeah. That's just the money for me to meet with you your gonna have to pay double what you paid for me give up the spot my guy holds in the tournament."
"That hardly seems fair."
Tank shrugged. "Well, you don't really have much of a choice now, 'cause I'm sure as hell not giving you any refunds. With that being said, I'll only collect my share of the reward if you win."
Lucius sighed, running the math. Sixty percent was steep, but the money was not the goal anyway. His primary objective was finding the kid.
"Only if I win," Lucius confirmed.
"Yes. Only if you win."
"Well, fuck it. Let's do this."
Tank pushed off the desk. "Good. I'll send you there right away. If you have any requests, now's the time."
"One question and a request." Lucius held up his fingers. "How many things can you swap with your payload limit?"
"Depends on size. The bigger a creature is, the fewer I can switch." Tank considered. "For humans, I can swap about two at a time after I tag them. For something smaller, like a dog or cat? Ten to twenty, max. Bugs or vermin? I could swap a whole colony if I tag 'em. Why do you ask?"
Lucius's eyes gleamed in the dim light. "Because I have a request. A paid one."
Tank's smirk returned. "It's gonna cost you."
---
To Be Continued