|Ace>

  By the time the city came into view again, the sun was already low and the sky was more gray than blue. The east gate checkpoint glowed with the steady light of the streetlamps behind it.

  Cherry and I ducked low in the grass and watched the scene. There were at least six peacekeepers at the turnstiles, checking every player coming in and out. It wasn't quite curfew yet, but I wasn't about to trust any Guard.

  "I vote we take the scenic route." I said, pointing north.

  "You mean the winch?"

  "I mean the winch." I said, and we took off at a jog along the base of the wall.

  The climb back up was grueling. My hands hadn't recovered their texture from the way down, so my grip was shot, and we had to work together to haul the platform all the way up to the top. Thankfully, exhaustion was more of a soft limit in the game - we could keep pushing even when our arms felt like they were going to fall off.

  At the top, I flopped over the edge of the wall walk, breathing heavily, while Cherry hopped right off like she was ready to do it again.

  We were back inside the city, but... now what? We paused there on the wall, looking down on the city in the early night. All the lights were coming on, and the roads were dusted in snow. But the closer you looked, the more wrong things you could spot: doubled-up patrols, packs of Guards checking IDs, even the drones buzzing overhead, casting faint searchlights as they went.

  "When that guy wakes up, he knows our names." I said. "And these people have Trace. They're going to be able to find us no matter where we go in the city."

  "So what do we do?" Cherry asked,

  I stared up at the darkening sky, weighing our options. We had evidence of something big - a secret military installation, Fringe members working with the Guard, materials being diverted from the city. But who could we trust with this information?

  "I don't think this is a solo mission anymore. We need the boys."

  Cherry nodded. "I don't like not trusting the boys."

  I pulled up my messaging UI and wrote a note to Willard:

  [Ace]: Hey Willard, we may have uncovered a government conspiracy, and they might kinda want us dead now.

  [Willard]: Great job, guys; I knew you had it in you! Are you safe?

  [Ace]: For now, but they're going to be able to track us down in a few hours.

  [Willard]: Alright, what's the damage? Do we need to set up a safehouse? And who're we dealing with here?

  [Ace]: Poe's got a big secret construction project out in the Forest of Souls.

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  As I sent that message, another notification popped up - a message from Vs:

  [Vs]: Sorry it took so long, but I looked into every known use for those materials that saw unexpected dips, and I think I found it! They're building materials! Every one of them is used in the production of wall constructors!

  ...

  I sent her a thank you, then checked back on Willard's feed.

  [Willard]: Poe? I know how to get a hold of him - don't worry, we can smooth that out. Why don't you come down to the headquarters - we can keep you safe.

  I showed the message to Cherry. "Do we trust this?"

  She hesitated only briefly before nodding. "I'd rather die trusting my friends than alone."

  I told Willard we were on our way, and we made our way down from the wall and entered the nearest sewer entrance.

  The air was thick with moisture and the pungent smell of decay. The silence was absolute, broken only by the sloshing of water in the murky channel in the middle of the tunnel and the distant, echoing drip of condensation. We'd only been with the Sewer People for a couple weeks, but the place was already starting to feel like home. Safer than the surface, anyway.

  "Maybe we should start a column on sewer life." I said. "Urban exploration kinda stuff - mail it in to Reggie every week."

  "Beats doing Courtney work."

  We made good time, snaking through the maze of catwalks and chambers. For the first mile or so, at least.

  That's when I spotted him.

  He stood alone in the middle of the catwalk. Not moving, not checking a menu. Just standing, arms at his sides, staring directly at us as we rounded the bend.

  I slowed to a stop. Cherry nearly ran into my back, then followed my gaze.

  "Who's that?" she whispered.

  I checked the nameplate: It was a World Guard member, but he wasn't in uniform. Just regular, nondescript civilian clothing. Not even a coat, despite the chill.

  He took a step toward us. Then another, then another. Each footfall was deliberate, measured.

  Cherry and I didn't move.

  When he was about twenty feet away, he paused. His expression never changed. Then, suddenly, he drew a machete from inside his jacket and charged us, screaming at the top of his lungs.

  "Run!" I yelled, and we bolted the other way.

  His footfalls thundered behind us, gaining fast. The echoes of our own boots made it hard to tell how close he was, but I could practically feel the blade swinging at my back.

  We rounded a corner, and standing right there in the middle of the walkway was Jefferson, trench coat swirling dramatically. He had a snub-nose pistol drawn and leveled at us.

  Cherry screamed. I screamed. Jefferson pulled the trigger.

  The bullet whizzed past our heads. The machete man behind us jerked, staggered, and crumpled, dropping the blade. He twitched on the ground, still trying to crawl forward.

  Jefferson strode past us without a word, aimed the pistol down at the man's head, and fired again. The body went still.

  He knelt and used the man's own hand to open his UI menu. I watched, wide-eyed, as he quickly navigated through the settings.

  "A replicant." Jefferson muttered, his voice flat and clinical.

  He used the menu to unequip the machete, letting it clatter to the catwalk. Then he picked it up himself and severed the man's head from his body. The body disintegrated into blue motes.

  Jefferson stood, wiping the blade clean on his coat before turning to face us. "They're not human - we don't know what they are. But we're having a hell of a time rooting them out."

  He advanced toward us, machete still in hand. Cherry and I backed up instinctively.

  Jefferson waved the blade at us like a teacher with a ruler. "Now what did I tell you about snooping in the wrong places?"

  "We're sorry." Cherry squeaked.

  "It won't happen again - promise!" I added.

  He holstered the pistol under his trench coat. "See that it doesn't. If you need to know something, we will make sure you know." He turned and walked away down the tunnel. At the end, he stopped, looked back, and said, "And to be perfectly clear, I do not expect to see a single word about us in the paper."

  We nodded in unison. "You got it, boss!"

  Jefferson disappeared around the corner, his footsteps fading into the ambient dripping of the sewers.

  Cherry and I stood in shocked silence for several moments, staring at the spot where the body had been. Only a few scattered blue particles remained, drifting like dust motes in the damp air.

  "Do muckrakers stop at the second death threat?" Cherry finally asked, her voice unnaturally small.

  I swallowed hard. "If they don't, I don't want to be a muckraker anymore."