She dreamt of skies strewn bright with stars. The luminsecence of a trillion worlds, somewhere just beyond her reach. She'd stretched her hand out above her, grazed the edge of the Milky Way, when she found herself falling. Arms and legs burnt to stumps, tumbling face-first towards the earth. The Chicago sprawl opened to swallow her, skyscrapers meshing like jagged teeth. Tentacles of black drew her into darkness. Stars lost in that neon haze.

  Vick's House, Southside; circa 7 AM

  Dawn's light met her through the window. A figment of hyperreality that seemed to burn through the compound's walls. A thought-command unfurled a shaded plane of glass from her upturned palm, sent it clipping through the parlor window to blot out the artificial sun. Amber's eyes hurt like hell.

  "Natural light ain't your thing, eh?"

  She looked over her shoulder to find Vick sat forward on the couch. He'd disassembled Amber's pistol, laid its parts across his lap. Years of grime sizzled under a handheld laser. He reached his bare foot across the coffee table, flicked the switch on an expensive-looking device. The sun was gone.

  "Thanks," Amber said. "Thrive in the shadows, if ya catch my drift."

  Vick squinted as he lased the rust off some engraved ideograms. The hint of ozone in a wisp of smoke. "Wherever you're comfy, I guess. Mind puttin' clothes on?"

  She found herself half-out of the synthread sheets he'd tucked her in last night. Trench coat folded neatly on the coffee table beside her other clothes.

  "Nothing you ain't seen," she replied, draping the expensive fabric over her shoulders like a domestic vaquero. "Hey, Vick?" She put her hand on his shoulder, crouched down to meet his gaze. "Thanks. Really, this means a lot."

  "No sweat, Amb. You catch some bad heat, I'll be there for ya."

  Amber stared, all semblance of a smile gone. She bit back something harsh, reached for her clothes. "Yeah. Anyone else, they'd throw my ass in the gutter."

  She caught him eying her up as she pulled on some panties. "Rumor is Rax wants you dead."

  "Hate to disappoint. But I got bigger fish to fry right now."

  "Bratva biz?"

  "I don't run with 'em no more. New guy's real mazu. Thinks he can klep my squeeze and hold a gun to her head."

  Vick froze. The Desert Eagle's parts clattered against the polywood. "Shit... You gonna ice him?"

  "Were it so easy," Amber sighed, pulling on her trench coat. She dragged deep on a cheap, misshapen cig she found at the bottom of a pocket. "Got stuffed in a dyne, KO'd via datagram. Next thing I knew..."

  She filled him in on the gritty details. The highway chase, Jun's demands, the murder of the family by that rouge bioroid. Slowly, she watched his face turn to something she'd call anger.

  A sigh of relief once she'd finished. "I want your help, Vick."

  Vick regarded her through tired eyes. Reminded her of the hour they'd met last night. Just as she faltered, a lozenge of translucent azure landed gently on her lap, prompted her with a sapphire keypad.

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  "You always were a pain in the ass, Amb. Lucky for you, you ain't the only one on this case."

  Amber looked at him, spoke the calmest she had in days. "Spill."

  Vick sighed, rubbed his temples. "Everyone knows shit's bad. Problem is, the chief is in on it. Last badge to raise a fuss was found in an an alley, mysteriously missin' half his skull."

  "That's just a Tuesday around here."

  "Maybe. But the Patriots don't cut this clean." He flicked her a photo of the scene. Chalk outlining a sharp wedge of flesh. "That datagram on your lap, it's my personal stash 'a intel and info. Hand-crypted by an old friend."

  "Awful kind of ya. What's the password-"

  "But you're playin' with fire, Amb. Just like last time we took ya downtown."

  "I remember you enjoyed yourself."

  "'Member you couldn't shut the fuck up. Really, Amb! Someone big's pullin' the strings. You get yourself tangled, they'll cut ya like nanowire."

  Amber laid back, let the ceiling fan hypnotize her.

  "Well, if all the world's a stage, we got our parts to play. Best you can do is put on one hell of an act." She flicked the butt of her cig, grabbed the reassembled pistol off his lap. "B'sides... If Velvet dies, what else have I got? Twistin' arms, takin' lives? Till one day ya find me dead in a gutter. Just another little ghetto-rat to feed the crows."

  She saw herself then, arm outstretched towards the dawn. Felt a shudder in her bones. Vick stayed silent, wore face she couldn't read. Till he asked, quietly,

  "That street we grew up on, remember its name?"

  "It's history. But barely."

  Run-down bodega, Northside; Afternoon

  Nozomi monitored the cashier through the corner of her eye, hand tight around the switchblade in her pocket. She'd seen him in passing across Northside, your typical twenty-something hooked on sensies. She'd seen the finish on the spikes socketed behind his ear - stamped hearts on green-gold metal. Even as he watched her, rifle laid across his spread legs, she knew his parent's bodega hung at the periphery of his sensorium. Something to be forgotten, much as one could.

  Somehow she knew what he was watching. One-two shuffle of late-night car crashes and cyan-lipped porn queens. Her head hurt just looking at him. She shook the thought, disappeared behind one of the shelves. A scrolling advert cast cheap cyberware in hard light, glossy steel trimmed with martian soil.

  She couldn't steal this. Even the lousy pop-pistols were sealed behind diamond glass. But their ammunition was a tempting target. She took a snaking circuit across the shop, taking advantage of a legit customer. Ten-mill hollow-points found their way into her cargo pants, slotting nicely into her pockets.

  Suddenly hunger struck her hard. She glanced at the clerk, saw him still ringing up the gal's smokes, palmed half-blindly for a pack of ramen. She cringed with the plastic crinkled in her fingers. Drew her blade when she saw the gun.

  The woman's pistol stared at her down the aisle. That same scrolling ad revealed her as Amber.

  "Y- You!" Nozomi stammered.

  "I got a name."

  "I know your name. Come here to finish the job?"

  Nozomi watched her lower the gun. Flung a turquoise neon lozenge into her palm.

  "Twenty bucks. Get yourself somethin' nice. We got biz out back."

  Amber observed Nozomi as she tore open the auto-injector. A thumb-sized device that reminded her of a tick. The kid pressed it to her thigh, shuddered as the cherry-red fluid drained into her vein. Melted into a quivering puddle on the curb.

  She leaned against a lamppost, took in the scene. Ecstasy smeared all across the girl's body. Amber's eyes lingered on the a final drip of red from the discarded injector. She clenched her fist, kicked it somewhere out of sight.

  Soon enough, the spell would subside. Nozomi rolled over, felt for footing on the asphalt. Amber threw an arm around her, helped her to her feet.

  "Easy now. That was a fat dose."

  "Y- Yeah... No kiddin'..." Nozomi shuddered, hugging herself. "So, what's your angle? Your boys need a favor?"

  Amber stared at her. Caught her drift. She let Nozomi slide down the wall of sanded ferrocrete, squatted down to look her in the eye. "You've had a shitty hand in life, ain't ya?"

  Nozomi snickered bitterly. "Good eye, Sherlock. Tell me somethin' I don't know."

  "How'd you like a job? Legit." For the sprawl, at least.

  "Tell me more," Nozomi beckoned.

  "I've been outta the game here for about a year. Files say you keep an ear to the ground. Know who's who, and what's what."

  "What's the case, Holmes-sama?"

  "Bioroids. You know the sitch. You run with me, I'll get ya the Red."

  "And if I refuse?"

  "You won't. Not while I got the supply," Amber stated.

  They gave each other a hard look, till Nozomi smiled anew. She got to her feet, said, "Shit, guess I got no choice."

  "I told ya, the baddest motherfuckers-"

  "Aw, shut the fuck up."