After letting Ko, Stick-Point, and Monroe all know that he had gotten back alright, he quickly worked out the dent using his fist. Having a strong cyberware arm was good for something.

  Hooking the waterline up to the city main and the pressure washer, Trace stuck it on the lift and then stripped down to his undergarments. They hadn’t managed to get their hands on a pair of wetsuits, so he had to resign himself to getting wet and stinky. The final item was a pair of goggles, with how much concrete and other garbage debris he was going to be blasting away from everything. He wasn’t taking any chances.

  The lenses were hardened, but they could still be scratched if you tried hard enough. Sevorah would undoubtedly charge a lot to repair them as well. There was also the chance of nastiness getting in through his tear ducts. All around, it was just a better idea to wear the goggles.

  Taking the lift all the way down, he took a few minutes to move everything away from the walls and lift up on blocks. With that done, he could finally get started cleaning the basement.

  The smell was terrible, but he wasn’t going to ruin his rebreather mask by soaking it in this gunk. He didn’t actually know if it was waterproof or not. The rebreather likely was, but he also didn’t feel like taking a chance.

  There was some soap in one of the boxes of supplies, and once he started using that, it helped mask the smell of the water some.

  The concrete walls of the basement were incredibly uneven as the weakened spots were scoured away by the extreme pressure. He had already known it would be like that due to the brief cleaning Monroe had done before.

  Over the next few hours, he cleaned as much of the basement as he could with the power washer. The pressure turned out to be high enough that from the floor he could reach the ceiling, but only just. As a result, he was able to -almost- fully clean the basement of all the built-up grime. Outside of a few areas that would require a more focused high-power stream of water and soap.

  It did little for the condition of the concrete, but with the basement now much cleaner, everything felt more viable.

  He did have to take a while to clean out the other plugged-up drainage holes. Thankfully, this was one thing that a focused stream of water excelled at doing. All he needed to do was shove the wand into the hole and hold it there until it was clear.

  Overall, the entire thing was messy, but getting it done and over with felt so nice.

  Back up on the main floor, he rinsed himself off four different times before finally feeling even remotely clean.

  He spent some time cleaning his pistols, the shotgun, and Monroe’s assault rifle. His courier pack had a nice layer of dirt as well, but it was easier to clean. Once he was done with the immediate items, he placed the K-10 and its holster on the wall, officially removing it from circulation.

  Working some oil into the leather holster, he shoved the revolver in and out a few times. It would stretch and form around it over the next few hours. The revolver was large, but not obscenely so.

  Scooting his chair over to his computer, he pulled up a design program and began working on a few ideas for a stealth suit. It was nowhere near a proper wraith suit, but it would definitely be better than nothing.

  Most of the ideas would depend on what he could afford along with what was available at the market. Just putting the ideas down gave him some place to start, and he was immediately able to also remove several of them. They sounded cool and were at that, but they were also unrealistic. They either would cost far too much to do or required knowledge he didn’t have.

  Most of this project actually did, but he also knew that he was getting closer to those next teaching modules.

  Deckard did his version of looking over Trace’s shoulder while he was jotting down ideas and asked him what he was doing. The two talked back and forth for a while, discussing their various projects, including Deckard’s progress. The other man had finally gotten everything set up on the net so that he could finally begin the operation. Though, he admitted he would still be taking things somewhat slowly, as they had time.

  Each corporation had public servers, which had a ridiculous amount of traffic each day. What he would be doing is injecting small amounts of code into some of those visiting streams. Not a lot, it wouldn’t even be a noticeable amount. When a site had millions of visitors a day, that small amount would quickly build up.

  The largest portion of each code that he was injecting into the stream would actually be dedicated to seeking out other portions of the code. After it found all the pieces, it would auto-compile and then run, creating a backdoor into the system for him.

  Now that would only give him access to the public servers. From there, he would work toward gaining access to the rest of the system. Creating additional backdoors and leapfrogging from workstation to workstation as needed. Even if the public server was somehow air gapped from the rest of the network, which he doubted, Deckard would find a way. The network signal might be too weak to register normally, but if it could be seen even only during times when a specific door in the building was open, that would be enough for him. A few packets of data here, and a few packets of data there, and soon another backdoor would be created for him.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  Trace was impressed. That sort of programming and system breaching was far beyond anything he could ever hope to attain. Even with what he had started to learn, he was just being realistic. Programming didn’t come to him as easily as messing with technology did. Even then, it was more tweaking, repairing, and kludging things together than actually designing anything.

  It was somewhat disheartening to know what your limitations were. Of course, that didn’t mean he was simply going to give up, either. All he could do was study more and try harder.

  It was getting close to dinnertime when Trace received a call from Ko, asking him to come by the clinic. She also mentioned that they already had food waiting for him there. It was nice of them to do that.

  ***

  Trace had changed into a long-sleeved shirt, hoping to avoid any questions from Sevorah about his arm. It hadn’t worked. At the moment she, Ko, Anna, and he were all gathered together in the backroom of the clinic eating some noodle dish that Ko and Anna had gotten. It had some sort of synthetic meat substitute and was smothered in an odd brown peanut sauce. At least that is what the label said. He had never actually tasted a real peanut before, but if they tasted this bitter, then he didn’t see the appeal.

  Sevorah wiped her mouth with a napkin and pushed away her empty plate. “Ko, Anna, strike that particular food cart off your list in the future, please. I’m not sure what it was supposed to taste like, but they certainly nailed the bitter quality of whatever region the recipe came from.”

  Both girls nodded glumly. They had been so excited to try the new food stand when it first appeared, and it had utterly destroyed all their expectations.

  Trace reached under the table and comfortingly squeezed Ko’s hand while giving her a small smile.

  “Anyway, I wanted to check how you were doing after that job. You may have gotten a lighter dose than Monroe, but your lungs could still be damaged. I also have finished going through those pharmaceutical manifests for the crates.” She tapped the table a few times in irritation and then pointed at his hand. “But first, I want to know about your hand! What have you done to do it? Why does it look different from before, and is it related to how perfectly you have adapted to using your arm already?”

  He groaned and hung his head. “Can we please just ignore my hand for now? I don’t feel like having that discussion at the moment. We have a lot of other things to get through. You also really don’t need to worry about my lungs. They were already checked out and they’re fine.” Not entirely a lie. They had simply been checked out by nanites, is all.

  Her eyes narrowed as she folded her arms across her chest. “Fine, but we will talk about your hand at some point.”

  “Maybe,” He continued on before she could protest more. “Now, I don’t know what Stick-Point told you about the last job we did, but it was more than a little odd.” He reached down and lifted a cooler onto the table, along with a small wooden box he had found in the warehouse.

  Trace tapped the wooden box first. “We encountered some strange… creatures in a thousand-foot-deep pit outside of the scarpo town of Parker. They were responsible for the pit and a series of tunnels we found at the bottom. One of them had curly, bristle hair, that could stop ten-millimeter ammunition, and its claws were made of a natural metal.” He opened the lid of the box and showed the hair and claw he had collected to them.

  “Natural metal?” Sevorah muttered, pulling the box close. “Why does that sound familiar?”

  “Do the names Richy and Jaco mean anything to you?”

  “Ah,” She nodded. “I take it Jaco turned up there, then?”

  “The numpty headed down by himself and then entered one of the tunnels. As far as we know, he is still down there. He could still be fighting, dead, or captured by the corpo agents that got sent in to secure the site. Who knows?” He shrugged and pointed his chin at the contents of the box. Do you think you can learn anything from those? I’m thinking about making a stealth suit soon and any advantage I can get would be appreciated.”

  “I’ll do what I can, but no promises.” She closed the lid and moved the box to the side. “And what is that?”

  Trace glanced at Ko and Anna first to ensure they were both done eating before opening the cooler. “This is Troy, or rather, his head. Monroe thought you might be interested in taking a look at him.”

  Sevorah cocked a brow and leaned closer to him. “You have me intrigued. What makes this head so different from all the other ones I see on a daily basis?”

  He hadn’t expected all three of them to be quite so blasé about the head, but then again, they did work in a messy and extremely bloody industry. Whether it was the clinic itself, or the cyberware mender half, both portions saw their fair share of blood and death each day. No one lasted long if they couldn’t inure themselves to it, at least somewhat.

  Mentally shrugging, he carefully shifted Troy’s head and exposed the portion of synth skin that had already been peeled back. “Monroe called it an adrenal gland bioware augment. The guy moved so fast it was just…” He shook his head, remembering how that fight had almost turned out for him. “Anyway, can you do something with it? I’d like a copy of all the scans you take if you can. I have a friend who might be interested in taking a look at them.”

  All three of the women’s mouths were hanging open in astonishment once he finished talking.

  “Let me get this right. You left for three completely normal jobs, and you returned with hair dense enough to be bulletproof. Claws formed from natural metal, and a bioware augment that shouldn’t even exist outside of some top corpo’s skull?” Sevorah finally asked him after a few moments.

  “Monroe made it sound like they were maybe a tiny bit more common than that, but yeah. Some real weirdos have been moving into the area lately, and actually, this guy was sort of related to another one of my jobs.” Trace waggled his hand back and forth. “I know it all seems completely happenstance, and part of it is. A much larger portion of it seems to be a buildup caused by actions I and others have taken. Well, really one of the jobs I did, not my individual actions.”

  “Right.” Anna stared at the rest of her noodles and pushed it to the side. “Well, I think I’m done eating. There was clearly something in that food because I have heard and seen some crazy things in the last few minutes. So, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go throw everything up and then head home.”

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