## Chapter 1 — Normal Until It Isn't The Safehouse had reached the point where five people could occupy it without anyone feeling obliged to explain why. That was probably progress. Ace was upside down on the couch. Not metaphorically. Her head hung off one end, short black hair almost brushing the floor, one leg hooked over the backrest while the other rested across Mai's lap with the proprietary confidence of someone who had long ago stopped believing furniture came with instructions. Mai had a datapad open. Ace distrusted this immediately. “What are you doing?” Mai did not look up. “Reading.” “That is what people say before spreadsheets happen.” “It is an article.” “About?” “Structural reinforcement standards.” Ace stared at her from upside down. “Why?” Mai finally looked over. “Because Brenda lives here.” From the floor near the kitchen, Brenda raised one hand. “Fair.” Iris sat beside her with a mug of tea, one shoulder resting against the cabinet. A cloth had been spread across the floor between them, covered with small metal brackets, fasteners, hand tools, and several harmless mechanical components that Brenda had repeatedly insisted were harmless without anyone actually asking. “They're not dangerous,” Iris said. Mai looked at the collection. Then at Brenda. Then back at Iris. “That sentence has historically poor predictive value.” Brenda pressed one hand to her chest. “Wow.” “You once described an illegal broadcast tower as emotionally stable.” “It was.” “It collapsed.” “After the broadcast.” Iris took another sip of tea. “I've learned not to enter these conversations.” “You're learning fast,” Ace said. Iris looked toward the couch. “You're upside down.” “Yes.” “Why?” Ace considered the question seriously. “Perspective.” Near the window, Shammy sat cross-legged beneath the dim colored lights, watching rain crawl slowly down the glass. “That is not why.” Ace narrowed her eyes at her. “You're supposed to support me.” “I am supporting you.” Shammy glanced toward the couch. “You haven't fallen.” Mai's mouth twitched. Ace pointed accusingly at both of them. “Hostile household.” Brenda leaned slightly toward Iris. “They're like this constantly.” “I know.” “You've adapted disturbingly fast.” Iris looked at her. “I live here for now.” Brenda went still for half a second. Not long enough to turn the moment into something awkward. Just long enough for the words to register. Then she leaned sideways until her shoulder rested against Iris. “Yeah.” No one made a ceremony out of it. That was another thing the Safehouse had become good at. Important facts no longer needed announcements. Sometimes they simply became true. Outside, Watson glowed wet and ugly beneath the rain. Traffic crawled below. Advertisements painted moving color across neighboring buildings. Someone three floors down was playing music loudly enough to involve the entire block against its will. Farther away, an argument migrated down the sidewalk in several languages and a steadily improving collection of insults. Normal. Night City normal, anyway. Mai returned to her datapad. Ace closed her eyes. Brenda picked up a narrow metal bracket. Iris removed it from her hand. Brenda stared. “What?” “You've been holding that for five minutes.” “I was thinking.” “You were bending it.” “It helps.” “It was straight.” “It lacked personality.” Shammy smiled faintly. Then stopped. The change was tiny. Mai noticed first. Ace's eyes opened. Shammy had not moved. That was the problem. Her attention had shifted away from the room. Not toward the street. Toward something broader. Mai lowered the datapad. “What?” Shammy did not answer immediately. Rain continued moving down the window. One of the enormous advertising panels across the street changed. No transition. No logo animation. No warning. One frame sold neural insurance. The next was completely black. Ace rolled off the couch and landed on her feet. Brenda stood. Iris put her mug down. Mai was already moving. A second billboard changed. Then a third. Then every visible display along the street. Black. All at once. Reflected darkness replaced the usual flood of advertising across the Safehouse windows. Mai reached the glass. “That isn't one network.” Brenda came up behind her. “Different vendors?” “Yes.” “Different infrastructure?” “Yes.” Ace stepped beside them. “And all fucked at the same time.” Mai opened diagnostics. Connections responded normally. System health checks came back green. Advertising controllers reported no intrusion. No cascade warning. No emergency override. No compromised authentication. Everything insisted nothing had happened. That was worse. Then every screen inside the Safehouse went black. Mai's datapad. The kitchen panel. The old wall display. Brenda's work monitor. Even the tiny diagnostic screen beside the power cabinet. All of them. Brenda looked around slowly. “Okay.” Iris rose. “That seems excessive.” Shammy stood. The image appeared. Horned silhouette. Heavy features. Armor. A face all three members of the Triad recognized before the picture had fully settled. Ace froze. Mai's eyes widened. Shammy's head came up sharply. Ace reacted first. “FUCK!” Brenda jumped. Ace pointed at the nearest screen. “It's Lordi!” Mai stared at the image. “Holy shit.” Shammy was already on her feet. “Yes.” Brenda looked between them. “You all know him?” Ace did not take her eyes off the display. “Know of him.” Iris frowned. “Who is he?” Ace looked at her. For once, there was no joke ready immediately. “Fifty years ago?” She pointed toward the enormous demonic face now occupying every billboard visible through the rain. “He was a Finnish musician.” Brenda blinked. Ace continued. “Monster costumes. Hard rock. Huge stage shows.” Mai added, still staring at the screens: “Won Eurovision Song Contest.” Iris looked back toward Lordi. Then at Ace. Then back toward the screen. “Eurovision.” “Yep.” Brenda stared. “That's career progression.” Ace finally found the joke. “Apparently retirement options got weird.” Mai shot her a look. “You're joking because you're worried.” “Yes.” “Good.” “That wasn't reassurance.” “It wasn't intended to be.” Across Watson, Lordi's face now occupied every display. Building after building. Street after street. Rain slid down thirty-meter versions of something that had once belonged on concert stages and old music archives. Except this wasn't a costume. Shammy knew that first. Her expression had gone still in a different way. Ace noticed. “What?” Shammy looked toward the screens. “He's real.” Brenda glanced at her. “As opposed to?” Shammy turned. “The costume.” Silence. Ace looked back at Lordi. “Oh.” Mai's attention sharpened. “You're certain?” “Yes.” “Demon?” Shammy nodded once. “Completely.” Brenda slowly looked at Iris. “I would like to officially withdraw my career-progression joke.” “No,” Ace said. “It was good.” “Thank you.” Mai was already working the console. Nothing answered in the way it should. No source. No routing path. No injection point. No hostile process. Every screen behaved as though Lordi's image belonged there. She switched diagnostic layers. Same result. Again. Nothing. “This isn't hacking.” Brenda stepped closer. “You sure?” “Yes.” “Citywide broadcast hijack with no source?” “Yes.” “That feels like hacking.” Mai looked at Shammy. Shammy shook her head. “He is doing it.” Mai went still. “Lordi himself?” “Yes.” Shammy looked toward the window. “The network isn't carrying him.” Ace folded her arms. “So he's got demonic admin privileges.” Mai looked at her. “That phrase is offensively imprecise.” “You knew exactly what I meant.” “I hate that.” The screens moved. Not refreshed. Moved. Lordi lifted his head. Every speaker in the Safehouse activated. So did the storefront systems outside. Vehicle audio. Public information panels. Advertising towers. Anything capable of producing sound seemed to come alive at once. The city inhaled. Then Lordi spoke. “Ace.” Every trace of humor left her face. Brenda looked slowly toward her. “That is very specifically you.” Ace nodded. “Noticed.” Lordi watched through a million impossible eyes. “Midnight.” A pause. “Arasaka Tower.” Brenda closed her eyes briefly. “Of course.” “The plaza.” Mai looked at the clock automatically. 23:14. Her posture changed. Travel time. Threat radius. Potential corpo response. Crowd behavior. Possible secondary objectives. Forty-six minutes. Shammy did not look at the clock. She watched Lordi. Ace noticed. “You feel something.” “Yes.” “Him?” Shammy hesitated. “Him.” A fraction longer. “And something around him.” Mai looked over. “What?” “I don't know yet.” Lordi smiled. Not warmly. Not cruelly. Anticipation. “Come.” A pause. “Alone.” Ace's eyes narrowed. “Or don't.” The smile shifted. “The city will still be watching.” The displays went black. Three seconds later, Night City returned. Weapons. Cars. Synthetic food. Luxury towers. Braindance. Debt restructuring. The normal flood came back so abruptly it almost felt offensive. Nobody in the Safehouse moved. Mai moved first. “Kiro.” She reached toward the communications console. Before her fingers touched it, the screen went black again. Lordi's face appeared. Only there. Beside him: 23:14. Mai froze. The image vanished. Ace looked at her. “He's making a point.” “Yes.” Mai stared at the clock. Forty-six minutes. Calling Kiro would take seconds. Giving her anything actionable would not. Lordi was not moving through the network in any way Mai could hand off, and the moment Shammy suggested Ace was not the whole trap, Mai's problem changed from forensic to immediate. She slowly lowered her hand. “Damn it.” Ace looked at her. “You'd still call her if we had time.” “Immediately.” “But we don't.” “No.” Shammy stood fully. “He wants Ace there.” Mai turned toward her. “That part was unusually clear.” Shammy shook her head. “No.” Her eyes stayed on Ace. “He needs her there.” The room changed. Ace straightened. Mai's expression flattened. Brenda muttered: “I liked the bending-metal argument better.” Iris folded her arms. “So it's a trap.” Mai answered first. “Yes.” Shammy answered a moment later. “Yes.” Ace looked at her. “But?” Shammy frowned. “I don't think you're the whole trap.” Silence. Ace glanced toward the Safehouse windows. Then toward the door. Mai followed her gaze. Everyone in Night City who had a screen had just been told where to look at midnight. Arasaka Tower. Ace. Lordi. Public spectacle. Mai looked slowly around the Safehouse. Home. Triad. Brenda. Iris. Everything behind the door that the rest of Night City was not supposed to know mattered. “I stay here.” Ace looked at her. No protest. “Yeah.” Brenda frowned. “You think someone might come here.” “I think pretending that possibility doesn't exist would be stupid.” Iris set her mug farther back on the counter. “What do you need?” Mai answered instantly. “Physical locks. Internal security. Manual backups.” Brenda brightened. “Now we're—” “No explosives.” Her face fell. “Cruel.” “Brenda.” “I know.” Ace stepped toward Mai. Her hand brushed the black Triad collar at her throat once before she leaned in. Forehead to forehead. Brief. Familiar. No performance. Mai closed her eyes. One second. Then opened them. “Do not let a Finnish demon kill you.” Ace pulled back. “That's extremely specific.” “Follow the instruction.” “Yes, ma'am.” Mai narrowed her eyes. Ace smiled. Small. Then turned toward Shammy. “You coming?” “Yes.” Mai looked at Shammy. “He told Ace to come.” “I know.” “Alone.” “I heard.” Mai waited. Shammy opened the door. “He can complain.” Ace grinned. “There she is.” Brenda raised one hand. “Do we have an actual plan?” Ace stepped into the corridor. “Yes.” Brenda waited. Ace looked back. “Find out why the former Eurovision winner is now a full demon who wants to punch me in front of Arasaka Tower.” Brenda stared. “That is not a plan.” “It has excellent nouns.” Mai pointed toward the hall. “Go.” Ace and Shammy disappeared into the corridor. The door closed. Mai turned. Iris was already checking the physical locks. Brenda started gathering equipment from the floor. Mai looked once at the clock. 23:17. Forty-three minutes. Then toward the window. Night City was advertising again. Selling itself. Pretending nothing unusual had happened. As though a man who had once stood on a Eurovision stage fifty years earlier had not just reached through every screen in the city as a literal demon and invited Ace to Arasaka Tower. Mai activated the Safehouse security systems. “Brenda.” “Yeah?” “No clever surprises.” Brenda considered the wording. “What counts as clever?” Iris looked at her. “Brenda.” “Fine.” Outside, the rain kept falling. And every billboard remained perfectly normal. For now. --- ## Chapter 2 — Everybody Is Watching By 23:24, Night City had already done what Night City always did with anything frightening enough to deserve caution. It had turned it into entertainment. Ace noticed that before they were even out of Watson. People stood beneath awnings with shards held up, replaying Lordi's interruption from every possible angle despite the fact that every possible angle had been exactly the same. Cars had pulled half onto sidewalks so drivers could argue with strangers. Public feeds were already overflowing with clipped recordings, speculation, betting pools, conspiracy theories, and several versions of events that had apparently happened despite being less than ten minutes old. Ace caught fragments as she and Shammy moved through the rain. “—fucking Arasaka Tower—” “—Lordi, actual fucking Lordi—” “—my building lost every screen at once—” “—someone says Ace accepted—” Ace stopped. Shammy stopped beside her. Ace looked around. Nobody nearby had noticed them yet. She pointed accusingly at the city in general. “I did not accept.” Shammy considered that. “You are going.” “That is not the same thing.” “It may look similar from outside.” Ace narrowed her eyes. “You are becoming dangerously reasonable.” “Yes.” They kept walking. Rain had weakened into a thin mist that gave the pavement a mirror finish and improved absolutely nothing else. Night City reflected itself beneath their feet. Neon. Traffic signals. Cheap food stalls. Corporate logos. Chrome. Advertisements. And now, every few blocks, another replay of a fifty-year-old Finnish rock musician appearing as an actual demon on systems nobody had been able to stop him from controlling. Ace watched one recording as they passed. Perfect synchronization. No compression failures. No delayed district. No visibly corrupted handoff. No tiny technical imperfection that might have suggested there had ever been a signal traveling from one place to another. Mai was going to hate that. Ace's hand rose automatically to the black Triad collar at her throat. Thumb beneath the lower edge. One brief touch. Still there. Always. Shammy noticed. She said nothing. Ace appreciated that. They crossed another street. A crowd had formed outside a noodle shop around a public display showing a live feed from City Center. Arasaka Tower stood in the background. The plaza beneath it was already filling. Ace stopped again. “Oh, fuck off.” Shammy looked at the screen. “There are many people.” “There should not be many people.” “They want to see.” “They are idiots.” Shammy looked at her. “You are also going.” “I have a professional excuse.” “You are a mercenary going to fight a demon because he asked.” Ace considered that. “Professional stupidity.” “That sounds worse.” “It probably is.” They moved on. The closer they got to City Center, the more obvious the pull became. Cars were rerouting toward Arasaka Tower. Pedestrians were walking in the same direction. Not fleeing. Not evacuating. Going to watch. Like there was a concert scheduled. Which, Ace supposed, was offensively appropriate. Street vendors had already materialized. One sold drinks. Another had food. A third had somehow acquired glowing red horn headbands. Ace slowed. Stared. Then stared harder. “No.” Shammy followed her gaze. “The horns?” “The turnaround time.” “What?” “Someone saw Lordi hijack the entire city and thought, you know what this needs? Retail.” Shammy studied the vendor. “Efficient.” “Deeply immoral efficiency.” A teenager ran past them wearing glowing horns and shouting something about front-row seats. Ace watched her disappear into the crowd. “This city deserves everything that happens to it.” Shammy glanced down at her. “That isn't true.” “No.” Ace sighed. “Emotionally true.” Shammy smiled. Then the smile vanished. She stopped. Ace took another two steps before noticing and immediately doubled back. “What?” Shammy was looking toward the skyline. Not at Arasaka Tower exactly. Through it. Around it. Her hair lifted faintly despite the dead air between the buildings. “He is closer.” Ace followed her gaze. “Physically?” “I don't know.” “That answer remains extremely irritating.” “Yes.” Ace watched her. “Same thing you felt at Safehouse?” “Stronger.” “Him?” “Partly.” Ace's expression changed. “There it is again.” Shammy nodded. Ace stepped slightly closer. “Two pressures.” “Yes.” “Lordi and something else.” “Yes.” “Something controlling him?” Shammy frowned. “I don't know if controlling is right.” “Binding?” A longer pause. “Closer.” Ace looked toward City Center. People streamed around them, laughing, talking, filming, completely unaware of the conversation happening within arm's reach. “Can you tell where it comes from?” “No.” “From Tower?” “No.” “From him?” Shammy hesitated. “Around him.” Ace absorbed that. “Like a leash.” Shammy looked at her. “Maybe.” Ace's mouth tightened. “That is a very ugly maybe.” “Yes.” They resumed walking. The crowd thickened. That created another problem. Recognition. At first it was one man leaning against a railing. His eyes landed on Ace. Passed over her. Returned. He looked at Shammy. Then at the black collar around Ace's throat. Then back at Ace's face. His mouth opened. “Holy shit.” Ace kept walking. The shard came up. “Ace?” “No.” The man blinked. “You're literally—” “Cosplayer.” Shammy looked down at her. Ace maintained a completely straight face. The man stared after them as they continued toward City Center. Shammy waited until they were out of easy hearing range. “Cosplayer?” “It almost worked.” “No.” “He hesitated.” “He was confused by the quality of the lie.” “That still counts.” More heads turned. Whispers propagated faster than Ace liked. Someone called her name. Then someone else. A voice from across the street shouted: “FUCK HIM UP, ACE!” Ace stopped. Slowly turned. The crowd quieted just enough to hear her. Ace cupped one hand beside her mouth. “WHICH INTERPRETATION?” For one perfect second, silence. Then half the street exploded laughing. Shammy covered her mouth. Ace turned away with immense satisfaction. “Worth it.” “Yes.” By the time they reached the final approach to Arasaka Tower, the entire district felt subtly wrong. It wasn't only the crowd. It was expectation. Every ordinary billboard was functioning again, but nobody watched them. Advertisements for implants, weapons, food, fashion and pleasure flashed over thousands of people whose attention remained fixed on the possibility that Lordi might take the screens back whenever he wanted. He had stopped controlling them. He still owned them. Ace hated that she understood the distinction. 23:48. Arasaka Tower rose ahead of them. Black glass. Hard geometry. Corporate arrogance rendered vertically. The plaza had formed its own perimeter. No barricades. No official crowd-control line. People had simply stopped advancing beyond a certain point. A wide empty space surrounded the center. Ace slowed. “That wasn't Arasaka.” Shammy looked across the open ground. “No.” “Nobody told them to stay back.” “No.” Ace stepped closer to the invisible boundary. Pressure settled behind her sternum. Not enough to hurt. Enough to suggest. Don't. Her Shadow Aura responded immediately. Darkness near her boots thickened by fractions. A reflection in the wet pavement put her shadow half a step too far to the left. Ace looked down. “Yeah. I noticed.” Shammy's hair rose farther. Ace looked toward the upper levels of Arasaka Tower. “No visible security.” “They're there.” “Absolutely.” “They aren't interfering.” Ace gave the building a long look. “For once, Arasaka has correctly identified somebody else's problem.” A few people nearby laughed nervously. Ace ignored them. She looked at Shammy. “Still two?” “Yes.” “Can you separate them?” “More than before.” Ace waited. Shammy focused. The plaza noise faded around them. Not literally. Ace simply knew better than to interrupt. Finally Shammy said: “Lordi is…” She paused. “Solid.” Ace raised an eyebrow. “Good start.” “Not physically.” “I assumed.” “The pressure that belongs to him is coherent. Strong. Very strong.” “And the other?” Shammy's expression tightened. “Wrong.” Ace's humor disappeared. “Wrong how?” “It presses inward.” “On us?” Shammy shook her head. “On him.” Ace looked toward the empty plaza. That changed things. Before she could answer, the largest display on Arasaka Tower went black. The crowd reacted instantly. A wave of voices rose. Then died. Another display went dark. Another. Every screen surrounding the plaza. Then the ones farther down the avenues. Then every display Ace could see. Black. Ace looked at the time. 23:52. “He's early.” A bass note rolled through the plaza. Low. Deep. Physical. Ace felt it through her boots. Another followed. Then percussion. Then guitar. Her head snapped toward the tower. “No.” Shammy looked at her. The opening of _Blood Red Sandman_ expanded through City Center. Then Lordi's voice rolled through the stolen soundscape with it. “Once again, I bring flame, I bring cold…” Not from one speaker. Everywhere. Arasaka's exterior systems. Public address units. Storefront audio. Parked cars. Traffic infrastructure. Even personal devices began joining the same feed as if Night City had been turned into one impossible concert rig. Perfect synchronization. The crowd erupted. Ace stared at the tower. Then slowly looked around the plaza. “You magnificent asshole.” Shammy's mouth twitched. The song grew louder. Not painfully. Precisely enough. The displays came alive again. Red. Black. Images moving across buildings like stage projections. Cold mist began crawling over one side of the plaza. At the same time, heat rolled across the other. Ace felt one cheek cool while the other warmed. Shammy went very still. Ace glanced sideways. “All him?” “The flame and cold?” “Yes.” “And?” Shammy's eyes stayed fixed ahead. “The pressure around him is getting tighter.” Ace looked back toward the center of the plaza. The absurdity of it should have broken the tension. Instead it made the whole thing more convincing. Fifty years ago Lordi had built entrances for concert stages. Whatever he had become since then, apparently nobody had convinced him to lower production values. Ace nodded once. “I'll give him this.” Shammy looked down at her. “Entrance?” “Fucking entrance.” The cold mist split. A figure walked through it. Not teleported. Not summoned in a flash. No dramatic explosion announcing his existence. Mr Lordi simply emerged from the contradictory weather as though the plaza had been waiting to contain him. The crowd's reaction moved backward physically. Thousands of people taking one collective step away. Ace remained where she was. The screens had not communicated scale. That was the first problem. The second was that Shammy had been right. The costume had become reality. Huge frame. Horns. Armor that no longer looked fabricated. Hands large enough that Ace briefly considered the practical implications and found all of them rude. The cold moved with him. So did the heat. Something deeper moved underneath both. Shammy inhaled sharply. Ace heard it. Lordi walked to the center of the plaza. Stopped. Looked directly at Ace. Even across the distance, there was no uncertainty. He knew exactly where she was. Ace started forward. Shammy moved with her. The crowd opened. Ace didn't look at them. At the edge of the empty ground, Lordi raised one hand. The music dropped in volume. Not stopped. Yielded. Ace crossed the remaining distance until conversation no longer required amplification. Then looked up. And farther up. And a little farther. Her mouth flattened. “This is going to annoy me.” For the first time since the broadcast began, Lordi's expression showed something Ace had not expected. Amusement. Genuine. “You came.” Ace folded her arms. “You took over every billboard in Night City.” “Yes.” “You told the whole city where to find me.” “Yes.” “You picked Arasaka Tower.” “Yes.” Ace gestured around them. “And you're playing _Blood Red Sandman_ as your own entrance music.” A pause. “Yes.” Ace nodded solemnly. “Okay.” Another pause. “I respect the commitment.” Behind her, Shammy made the tiniest possible laugh. Lordi's attention shifted. He looked at Shammy. The amusement faded. Not into aggression. Evaluation. “You were asked to come alone.” “No,” Shammy said. Ace turned her head slightly. “Compelling rebuttal.” “Yes.” Lordi stared at Shammy. The air tightened. Ace saw Shammy's hair react. Not to Lordi. To the thing around Lordi. The leash. Lordi's jaw shifted by a fraction. There. Not anger at Shammy. Resistance. Ace filed it immediately. His gaze returned to her. “Your companion does not interfere.” Ace looked at Shammy. Shammy met her eyes. No fear. No challenge. Decision. Ace looked back at Lordi. “She decides that.” Something moved across Lordi's expression. Very small. Very fast. But Ace had spent too much of her life reading people one heartbeat before violence. Choice mattered to him. Interesting. “Acceptable,” he said. Ace looked over him. No weapon in his hands. No obvious blade. No firearm. Nothing. “You're planning to punch me.” Lordi's mouth moved faintly. “You came to be punched?” Ace shrugged. “I've had worse invitations.” A laugh went through the nearest edge of the crowd. Lordi ignored it. “No weapons.” Ace's eyes flicked toward the two emerald katanas on her back. Then to his empty hands. “You sure?” “Yes.” “Because I'm extremely attached to these.” “I know.” Ace's eyes narrowed. That was interesting too. She reached back. Released the harness. Shammy stepped closer. Ace handed the paired katanas to her. Shammy accepted them carefully. The crowd reacted much more loudly than necessary. Ace glanced toward them. “What?” Someone yelled something unintelligible. Ace turned back. “Tourists.” Lordi looked at the collar around her throat. Then at her stance. Then at her hands. Assessing. Ace rolled her shoulders. “Other rules?” “Remain in the plaza.” Ace looked toward the crowd. “That for me?” Lordi did not answer. Ace's expression changed. The pressure around him tightened again. Shammy noticed at exactly the same moment. Ace looked at her. She gave the smallest nod. Not his rule. Or not entirely. Ace turned back. “Fine.” Lordi stepped into stance. Ace's entire perception of the confrontation changed. It wasn't decorative. It wasn't a monster lowering its center of gravity because that looked intimidating. Feet positioned correctly. Weight balanced. Hands placed with purpose. Head protected without stiffness. He knew what he was doing. Ace stared. “Oh.” Lordi's amusement returned. “Yes.” Ace adjusted her own stance. Low. Loose. Compact. At one hundred and forty-five centimeters, there was no sensible reason to meet his mass directly. Which meant she wouldn't. Her Shadow Aura pulled tight around her instead of spreading. Darkness clung close. Watching. Shammy backed away with the katanas. The audience became irrelevant. Lordi inclined his head. Ace answered with one shallow nod. The clock over the plaza changed. 23:59:57. Three seconds. Ace flexed her fingers once. Two. Lordi settled fractionally deeper. One. Midnight. Lordi moved. Fast. Far too fast for his size. Ace slipped sideways as his first strike passed close enough to drive displaced air across her face. No testing jab. No theatrical warning. Good. She pivoted inside the recovery. Dropped lower. Drove her heel into the lateral line of his knee. The impact traveled up her leg. Solid. He did not buckle. His hand came down toward her immediately. Ace twisted away. The strike hit pavement. Concrete cracked. The crowd screamed. Ace was already moving back in. Elbow. Body line. Angle change. A second strike toward structural weakness rather than pain. Lordi turned just enough to take it badly instead of catastrophically. Then caught her forearm. Ace's eyes widened. “Oh, shit.” He threw her. Ace rotated in the air. Hit shoulder-first. Rolled. Came back to her feet. The entire exchange had taken seconds. Lordi reset. Ace rubbed her forearm once. Looked at him. He wasn't lumbering. Wasn't relying on strength. Wasn't hoping durability would solve technique. He had read her entry. Adjusted. Countered. Ace smiled. Not because the situation had become safer. Because it had become honest. Lordi saw it. His own expression sharpened. Ace lowered herself again. “Okay.” Lordi waited. Ace's smile showed teeth. “Now this is interesting.” --- ## Chapter 3 — Weight Difference Lordi did not wait for Ace to decide how interesting. He came forward again. This time Ace knew enough not to test the obvious line. She gave him ground. Half a step. Another. His right hand came high. Ace watched the shoulder instead. The strike changed halfway through. Not a punch. A grab. She dropped beneath it, pivoted across his front, and drove the point of her elbow into the floating ribs with everything her rotation could give her. The impact felt like hitting architecture. Lordi exhaled. That was all. Ace was already gone before his return strike arrived. His fist passed behind her head. She felt air move through her short hair. Too close. Ace planted one foot against his thigh and used it as a step instead of a target. Up. For one ridiculous fraction of a second, she was nearly level with him. Her knee drove toward his jaw. Lordi caught it on one forearm. Ace twisted in the air, brought the other heel around, and connected against the side of his head. His horns moved with the impact. His entire body did not. Ace landed. Backed away. Looked at him. “Rude.” Lordi rolled his neck once. “Good.” Ace blinked. “Good?” “You adjusted.” “Were you grading me?” “Yes.” “That is incredibly annoying.” He moved. Ace stopped talking. The next exchange became too fast for commentary. Lordi stepped inside her preferred escape line before she had fully committed to it. Ace changed direction. He changed with her. She went low. He lowered his center without overcommitting. Ace struck once at the knee, twice at the body, changed angle, drove an open palm under his arm where armor gave her something vaguely resembling access. He trapped the wrist. Ace did not try to pull free. She stepped toward him. That surprised him. Her free hand snapped upward. Two fingers stopped short of his eye. Lordi's head moved back anyway. Ace used the reaction to rotate under the captured arm. For a moment, his shoulder became a lever. Against a human opponent, the joint would already have been screaming. Against Lordi, Ace discovered something deeply irritating. He followed the rotation. Not because she had forced him. Because he understood what she was doing. The pressure disappeared from his shoulder. Ace's leverage vanished. His other hand closed around the back of her jacket. “Oh, come on—” The plaza rotated. Ace hit the ground hard enough to bounce. Pain flashed through her back. The Shadow Aura surged. Darkness spread outward across the wet pavement in a sharp pulse. Lordi released her immediately and stepped away. Ace rolled to one knee. Shammy took one involuntary step forward. Ace raised a hand without looking at her. “I'm fine.” Shammy stopped. The katanas remained in her hands. Her expression said she was keeping several objections for later. Ace stood. Slowly this time. Something along her ribs objected. Not broken. Probably. She looked at Lordi. He had backed off while she recovered. That registered. Ace straightened. “You could've followed that.” “Yes.” “Why didn't you?” Lordi's expression did not change. “You were down.” Ace stared. “That is usually when people follow.” “I am not people.” “Technically excellent answer.” The crowd had become quieter. The first few exchanges had produced screams, cheers, shouted reactions. Now thousands of people watched with the growing realization that this was not staged violence. Concrete was cracked. Ace's jacket carried rain and grit. One side of Lordi's face showed the beginning of discoloration where her heel had connected. He could be hurt. Apparently. Just not easily. Ace rolled one shoulder. Across the plaza, the song continued. Lower now. Atmosphere rather than announcement. She had almost forgotten it was there. Lordi settled into stance again. Ace studied him. There was something familiar in the posture now that she knew what to look for. Not a specific school. Not something neat enough for that. Experience. Lots of it. The kind that had been tested against opponents who did not cooperate with theory. “How long?” Ace asked. Lordi did not move. “How long what?” “You've been fighting.” A pause. “Long enough.” Ace snorted. “Fine. Keep your mysterious demon bullshit.” His mouth twitched. Then he attacked. Ace let him. Not passively. Deliberately. She gave him the line he had already learned she preferred. Left side. Low escape. Inside pivot. The same pattern she had used twice. Lordi committed to closing it. Ace stopped halfway. Changed levels. And drove directly toward him. His reach became a problem for him instead of her. Ace crashed inside both arms, shoulder-first into his center. She weighed almost nothing compared with him. That was not the point. The point was timing. His weight had already shifted forward. Ace hooked one leg behind his ankle, struck above the knee with her other foot, and turned her entire body across the line of his momentum. For one glorious instant, physics remembered it did not care how frightening somebody looked. Lordi lost balance. The crowd made one enormous sound. Ace kept rotating. Lordi hit the ground. Not cleanly. Not flat. But down. Ace released instantly and moved away before he could take her with him. She came up several meters distant. Hands raised. Breathing harder. Lordi remained on one knee. He looked at the ground. Then at Ace. Ace smiled. “There.” Lordi stood. His expression had changed. Not anger. Approval. “That,” he said, “was very good.” Ace's smile widened. “Thank you.” Then she pointed at him. “Do not get used to it.” A laugh rolled through the crowd. Lordi ignored them. “You understand size.” Ace shrugged. “I've had a lifetime of research.” Another tiny movement at the corner of his mouth. Then his gaze shifted toward the black collar at her throat. Not long. Long enough. Ace noticed. “What?” “Nothing.” “Bullshit.” Lordi looked back into her eyes. “You wear that always?” Ace went very still. Shammy's attention sharpened. The crowd did not know why the question mattered. Ace did. Her fingers brushed the collar once. “Yes.” Lordi nodded. No mockery. No follow-up. “Good.” Ace stared at him. “That was weirdly personal.” He stepped back into stance. “So was the question.” Ace almost asked another. Then the pressure changed. Shammy felt it first. Her head snapped toward Lordi. Ace saw the reaction and stopped. The air around the demon tightened. No visual effect. No glowing chain. Nothing convenient. Just a pressure that had been sitting around him since Watson suddenly drawing inward like a fist. Lordi's shoulders locked. Only for an instant. His breathing changed. His expression hardened. Not toward Ace. Against something invisible. Shammy whispered: “There.” Ace did not look away from him. “The leash?” “Yes.” Lordi's eyes moved toward Shammy. The pressure tightened again. His jaw clenched. Ace's humor vanished. “Can it hear us?” Shammy frowned. “I don't know.” “Can he?” “Yes.” Lordi looked back at Ace. “Continue.” Ace didn't move. “That wasn't you asking.” Silence. The music rolled through the plaza. Somewhere in the crowd, somebody lowered a shard. Lordi's voice came harder. “Continue.” Ace studied him. The thing pressing around him. His stance. His face. The fact that he had chosen not to hit her while she was down. The fact that every rule so far had contained the fight instead of expanding it. No weapons. Stay in the plaza. Shammy does not interfere. No demand that civilians remain. No threat against them. No threat against Mai. No threat against anyone. Only: Come. Fight. Stay here. Ace's eyes narrowed. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me.” Lordi did not answer. Shammy looked at her. “What?” Ace spoke without taking her eyes off him. “He doesn't want me dead.” The nearest people in the crowd heard. A murmur spread. Lordi's expression gave nothing away. Shammy watched the pressure. “No.” Ace nodded slowly. “He wants me occupied.” The pressure around Lordi tightened violently. This time even Ace felt it. A deep compression behind her sternum. Lordi took one involuntary step forward. Then stopped himself. His hands curled into fists. “Fight.” Ace stared up at him. “Yeah.” She reset her stance. “Looks like we both have jobs tonight.” Something passed through Lordi's eyes. Recognition. Then it was gone. He moved again. Ace met him. This time neither wasted energy pretending they had not already learned each other. Lordi's first strike forced Ace right. His second anticipated her correction. Ace ducked under it, struck twice into the body, absorbed a glancing forearm across her shoulder that spun her halfway around, used the rotation instead of fighting it, and came back with a heel toward his knee. He checked it. Ace expected that. Her foot touched down. She changed direction immediately. Lordi expected that too. His hand caught her shoulder. Ace trapped the wrist against herself and drove her forehead into the lower edge of his face. The size difference made the motion absurd. The result did not. Lordi recoiled half a step. Ace released. “Petite advantage.” Lordi touched his mouth. Looked at the faint smear on his fingers. Blood. Dark. Real. The crowd went silent. Lordi studied it. Then looked at Ace. And laughed. Not theatrically. Not the booming villain laugh the crowd expected. A short, genuine sound of delighted surprise. Ace blinked. “Oh, great. You're enjoying this.” “Yes.” “That's fair.” He wiped the blood away with the back of one hand. “You are better than I expected.” Ace put a hand over her heart. “I'm offended.” “You should not be.” “Still offended.” “You are very small.” The plaza became dangerously quiet. Shammy closed her eyes. Ace stared at Lordi. Somewhere behind them, one brave or suicidal person whispered: “Oh no.” Ace pointed upward at the demon. “I liked you for almost thirty seconds.” Lordi's expression remained perfectly serious. “You are also very fast.” Ace lowered the finger. “…continue.” Shammy made a suspicious choking sound. Lordi inclined his head. “Your technique is excellent.” Ace looked at him for a second. Then gave him the same courtesy. “So is yours.” No joke. No qualification. He accepted the compliment with a short nod. Two fighters acknowledging a fact. Then Ace added: “Still gonna kick your ass.” Lordi smiled. “Try.” They collided again. --- At the Safehouse, Mai watched the same fight on three different muted feeds. Not because she needed three. Because she trusted none of them. Brenda stood beside one window with the curtains pulled almost completely shut, leaving only a narrow viewing angle toward the street below. Iris had moved the furniture. Not dramatically. A couch shifted enough to break the direct line from the entrance. A heavy table rotated. Two lamps turned off. The room looked almost normal. That was intentional. “She's getting thrown around,” Brenda said. Mai did not look away from the feeds. “She has also put him on the ground.” “Once.” “Once is statistically significant when the other participant is that size.” Iris glanced at Mai. “You're doing it again.” “Doing what?” “Making concern sound like analysis.” Mai finally looked at her. “I am analyzing.” “Yes.” A pause. “And?” Mai's jaw tightened. “And I am concerned.” “Better.” Brenda looked between them. “Is this a Safehouse skill everyone learns?” “Yes,” Iris said. “No,” Mai said at exactly the same time. Brenda nodded. “Useful.” Mai looked back at the screen. Ace had just headbutted Lordi. Mai closed her eyes. “One hundred and forty-five centimeters.” Brenda blinked. “What?” “She is one hundred and forty-five centimeters tall and just headbutted a demon.” Iris watched the feed. “It worked.” “That does not make it sensible.” On the muted screen, Lordi laughed. Ace said something. The crowd reacted. Mai's mouth tightened despite herself. “She made a joke.” Brenda smiled faintly. “Means she's okay?” “No.” Mai watched Ace reset her stance. “But it means she's still Ace.” That mattered. Then one of the Safehouse perimeter indicators changed. Only once. A small amber mark. Gone almost immediately. Mai's attention snapped away from the fight. “What?” Brenda turned. Mai pulled the perimeter view onto the largest display. Nothing. Wet street. Parked vehicles. Pedestrian traffic. A delivery bike moving through the intersection. Normal. Mai replayed the sensor event. One partial interruption. Southeast exterior field. Less than a second. Brenda leaned closer. “Could be rain.” “No.” “You know that from one blink?” “Yes.” Iris moved beside them. “What was it?” Mai expanded the data. “Something crossed the field and knew where the field was.” Silence. Brenda's expression changed. All humor gone. Iris looked toward the front door. Mai shut down the Arasaka feeds. Ace disappeared from the screens. That hurt more than Mai expected. She did it anyway. “Positions.” Brenda moved immediately. No argument. Iris did too. Mai killed the remaining interior lights. The Safehouse changed. Not into a bunker. Into a home that knew somebody was coming. Outside, rain whispered against the glass. Another perimeter indicator blinked. North side. Then nothing. Mai watched. Waited. A third event. Closer. Brenda spoke quietly. “They're probing.” “Yes.” Iris checked the weapon in her hands. “How many?” Mai looked at the dark street. “I don't know.” Brenda breathed out once. “That usually means too many.” Mai's eyes stayed on the door. “No.” She reached for her disruptor. “It means they haven't made their first mistake yet.” Outside the Safehouse, someone stepped into the rain. Then another. And another. None of them looked toward the windows. That was the first mistake. --- ## Chapter 4 — The Door The first attacker crossed the Safehouse perimeter without looking at the building. Mai disliked that immediately. People who were lost looked. People who were nervous looked too much. People who knew exactly where they were going tried not to. She watched through the narrow exterior feed while the figure moved past a parked vehicle, head angled slightly down against the rain. Second figure. Opposite side of the street. Third. Farther back. No visible coordination. Which meant coordination. Brenda crouched beside the kitchen wall, all restless energy compressed into stillness. Iris had taken position farther inside, covering the line the front door would create if it opened. Nobody spoke. The Safehouse listened. Mai counted. Four. Five. Six. Then the exterior feed flickered. Not dead. Delayed. Half a second. Mai killed it manually. Brenda glanced over. “Compromised?” “Yes.” “Digital?” “Doesn't matter.” Brenda nodded. No argument. Good. Mai switched entirely to the physical cues the apartment offered. Rain against glass. Elevator machinery. Building plumbing. The distant electrical buzz of Night City continuing below them. Then— A footstep in the corridor. Too soft. Another. Mai raised one hand. Brenda froze. Iris shifted her weight. The hallway outside went silent. Someone tested the door. Not the handle. The frame. A tiny pressure change. Professional enough to be worrying. Brenda mouthed: _They know._ Mai gave the smallest nod. Yes. Not just the address. The door. The architecture. That moved the threat somewhere colder. Mai brought the disruptor up. Nothing happened for four seconds. Five. Then the first breach charge went off. Not large. Precise. The outer lock assembly snapped. The inner reinforced structure held. Brenda flinched despite herself. Iris didn't. The attackers had expected the first layer to fail completely. It didn't. That bought them one second. Mai used it. The door shifted inward half a centimeter. A weapon appeared through the gap. Mai fired. The disruptor cracked through the room. The weapon vanished. Someone outside shouted. Brenda moved. Not toward the door. Toward the side wall. She yanked a manual lever she had installed months earlier after one of Mai's more paranoid evenings and one of Brenda's more enthusiastic afternoons. A heavy maintenance panel dropped across the secondary line of entry from the adjoining service access. Metal slammed into place. Mai glanced at her. Brenda gave a tiny shrug. “Not explosive.” “Accepted.” The second breach came harder. The front frame flexed. Iris fired through the narrow opening the moment a silhouette committed. One shot. A body dropped out of sight. Brenda looked at her. Iris didn't look back. “I grew up around security teams.” Brenda blinked once. Then smiled despite the situation. “Remind me never to piss you off.” “You already do.” Another impact hit the door. The hinges screamed. Mai tracked movement through sound now. Two outside. One pulling back. Another shifting toward the stairwell. Someone had decided the main entrance was expensive. Good. That meant they could think. Bad. That meant they would adapt. A suppressed burst punched through the wall beside the door. Plaster exploded inward. Brenda ducked. Iris moved with her. Mai fired through the new opening before the attacker could use it. A cry outside. Then silence. Brenda looked at the hole. “Rude.” “Focus.” “I am focused.” “You're narrating.” “It helps.” The corridor erupted. Multiple feet. Fast. A heavier charge struck the damaged frame. The door came inward violently. Not open. Broken. Still hanging. Mai fired twice. Iris once. Brenda grabbed the edge of the dining table and kicked its braced support loose. The table dropped sideways into the opening, turning clean entry into a waist-high obstacle. Mai looked at her. Brenda pointed. “Furniture.” “Accepted.” The first attacker tried to vault it. Mai shot him before both feet cleared the threshold. The second fired blind. Iris pulled Brenda lower as rounds tore across the room. A lamp shattered. The wall behind the couch spat fragments. The couch. Ace's couch. Mai felt something hot and irrational move through her chest. Of all the stupid things to matter— The couch. Home. Their home. Someone was shooting into it. Her next shot was colder. Cleaner. The attacker disappeared backward. Silence returned in pieces. Brenda breathed hard. “Okay.” Iris checked her. “You hit?” “No.” “Sure?” “Yes.” “You?” “Fine.” Mai didn't turn. “Both of you stay off the main line.” Brenda looked toward the doorway. “You know they're coming again.” “Yes.” “How?” Mai listened. Nothing. Exactly. “They haven't left.” A shape moved at the far edge of the damaged doorway. Mai fired. The shape vanished. Metal clattered outside. A thrown object rolled into view. Brenda's eyes widened. “Down.” They moved. The device detonated with a violent flash and concussion. Not lethal. Disorienting. Mai's hearing collapsed into pressure. The room tilted. Someone entered. Mai saw movement without sound. Large silhouette. Weapon up. Iris fired first. Missed. Brenda grabbed the attacker's wrist with both hands and redirected the muzzle just as he fired. Rounds tore into the ceiling. Mai drove forward. No hesitation. She struck the weapon aside, buried one shoulder into the attacker's center, and used the wall to remove his balance. Iris came in from the opposite side. Together they forced him down. Brenda kicked the weapon away. The attacker reached for something at his belt. Mai fired once. He stopped moving. The ringing in her ears began to recede. Brenda stared at the body. Not shocked. Breathing. Processing. Iris touched her shoulder. Brenda nodded once. “I’m okay.” Iris left her hand there anyway. Brenda covered it with her own for one brief second before letting go and looking back toward the door. Mai believed her enough for later. Footsteps thundered from the stairwell. More. Brenda looked toward the door. “That is definitely more than three.” Mai checked the charge on the disruptor. “Unfortunately.” Iris reloaded. “How long until Ace and Shammy can get back?” Mai almost laughed. Not because it was funny. Because Ace was currently fighting a demon in front of Arasaka Tower. “Too long.” A new sound came from outside. Not footsteps. Gunfire. Three sharp shots. Then two. Then silence. Mai froze. Brenda looked at her. “That wasn't us.” “No.” Another shot. Different weapon. Closer. A body fell across the damaged doorway from the corridor. Not one of theirs. Mai shifted position. Someone outside yelled: “LEFT!” Mai knew the voice. Her eyes widened. Reyes. A second burst followed. An attacker staggered into view. Mai fired. The body dropped. Reyes appeared behind it with rain on her jacket, weapon already moving toward the next angle. She glanced through the wrecked doorway. “Evening.” Mai stared at her. “How—” “Caught the same faces looping this block after Lordi took the screens. I was already moving.” Reyes fired past the doorframe. “Rest later.” Someone outside collapsed. Brenda grinned despite herself. “Hi, Reyes.” “Hey, Boom.” Another attacker leaned into the corridor. Reyes shot first. “Busy.” “Noticed.” Mai moved toward the door. Reyes covered her approach. The two of them fell into rhythm almost instantly. No briefing. No plan. Mai controlled the interior angle. Reyes owned the corridor. Iris covered the deeper line. Brenda moved where the structure needed changing, dragging debris, closing sightlines, making the attackers work for every meter. The fight changed. Not over. But different. The cult had planned for a weakened house. They had found Mai. Brenda. Iris. Now Reyes. The corridor became expensive. Very expensive. One attacker tried the stairwell. Reyes put him down before he completed the turn. Another attempted to fire through the wall. Mai answered through the same opening. Brenda shoved a heavy storage unit into position that killed the angle entirely. Iris caught a third trying to crawl below the broken table. The attacker never crossed the threshold. Then something moved at the far end of the corridor. Fast. Too fast. Reyes snapped her weapon toward it. Mai did the same. A red-haired woman came around the corner low, compact, already firing. Two cultists dropped before Mai fully processed the new arrival. The woman shifted direction with brutal efficiency, slid behind cover, fired once more, then moved again before the return fire reached where she had been. Reyes stared. “What the fuck?” Mai knew her. Not well. Enough. “Ash.” Ash glanced toward the Safehouse doorway. Her expression barely changed. “Mai.” That was apparently the greeting. Then she leaned out and fired twice. Two more attackers went down. Reyes looked between them. “You know her?” “Later.” “Everyone keeps saying that.” Ash changed magazines. “Good policy.” Reyes stared at her for half a second. Then laughed once. “Okay. I like her.” Ash did not react. She was already moving. The next attacker tried to use the corridor corner. Ash beat him to it. Not with size. Not with force. Speed. Aggression. Precision. One moment she was beside the wall. The next she had changed the entire geometry of the hallway. Mai understood immediately why Rogue used her. Ash did not enter fights. She solved them. The remaining cultists understood that too. Their advance stopped. For the first time since the attack began, they started retreating. Mai looked toward Ash. “They're pulling back.” “No.” Ash checked the corridor. “They're consolidating.” Reyes frowned. “For what?” Ash's eyes shifted toward the far stairwell. “One more push.” Mai felt cold settle through her. Not fear. Recognition. “They need the door.” Brenda looked at the wrecked entrance. “What?” “The door.” Mai's voice sharpened. “They've had other options. Walls. Windows. Service access.” Iris looked at the bodies outside. “But they keep coming here.” Reyes's expression changed. “Threshold.” Nobody answered. Nobody needed to. Ash looked at the broken entrance. Then at Mai. “No one enters.” Mai looked at her. Something about the wording caught. Not tactical advice. Definition. Contract-shaped. Before she could ask, movement exploded at the far end of the corridor. Five remaining attackers. Maybe six. One figure behind them. Not armored like the others. Robes beneath tactical gear. Blood-red markings across the chest. Leader. Brenda saw him. “That guy looks important.” Reyes raised her weapon. “Then let's disappoint him.” The cult surged forward. Mai fired. Reyes fired. Iris fired from behind them. Ash moved. The corridor became noise and light and shattered plaster. One attacker dropped. Then another. The leader kept coming. Not charging blindly. Driving the others ahead of him. Using bodies to close distance. Ash killed one angle. Reyes killed another. Mai hit the third. The leader reached the final stretch. Ten meters. Eight. Six. Brenda grabbed Iris and pulled her aside as return fire chewed through the wall. Mai's disruptor clicked empty. “Fuck.” She changed cells. Too slow. The leader crossed four meters. Reyes fired. Hit shoulder. He kept coming. Ash fired. Hit center mass. He staggered. Kept coming. Three meters. Two. The broken table still lay across the doorway. The leader hit it without slowing. One hand caught the edge. He started over. Mai saw his eyes. Not rage. Triumph. He believed touching the threshold meant something. Ash saw it too. She moved first. One step. Weapon up. The leader's boot came down on the ruined doorframe. Ash fired. The shot hit high. The leader stopped. For one impossible fraction of a second, he remained upright. One foot outside. One foot on the threshold. Never inside. Then he fell backward. The corridor went silent. Ash kept her weapon trained on him. Reyes breathed hard beside her. Mai completed the reload she no longer needed. Nobody moved. Brenda looked at the doorway. “At least he didn't get in.” Ash lowered her weapon slightly. “No.” Her voice was flat. Certain. “He did not.” Far across Night City, in front of Arasaka Tower, something invisible broke. --- ## Chapter 5 — Short Salute Ace felt it before she understood it. One moment Lordi was moving. The next, something around him broke. Not exploded. Not vanished in light. Broke. The pressure Shammy had been tracking all night snapped so cleanly that the absence hit harder than the force itself. Lordi stopped mid-step. Ace did too. For a fraction of a second, neither of them moved. The crowd kept making noise. Music still rolled through the plaza. Rain misted through red light. None of it mattered. Shammy inhaled sharply behind Ace. “Gone.” Ace did not turn. “The leash?” “Yes.” Lordi stood completely still. Then his shoulders lowered. Not much. Just enough. Ace saw it. The first truly relaxed movement he had made all night. No more invisible pressure driving inward. No more resistance buried beneath every deliberate motion. Nothing around him except himself. Ace straightened slowly. Her ribs hurt. Her back hurt. One shoulder had started complaining in several languages. Lordi looked worse than when the fight began too. Not badly. Enough. Dark blood along one side of his mouth. Marks where Ace's strikes had actually found something underneath armor and demon mass. He looked down at his hands. Opened them once. Closed them. Then looked at Ace. Neither smiled. They did not need to. Ace understood. “So that's it.” Lordi's gaze shifted past her toward Shammy. Shammy nodded once. “The binding is gone.” Lordi looked back at Ace. “Yes.” His voice sounded different. Not weaker. Less compressed. Ace rolled one shoulder and winced. “Good.” A beat. “That was getting exhausting.” For the first time since midnight, Lordi laughed without anything fighting him from the inside. Short. Low. Real. “You are difficult to hit.” Ace rubbed her ribs. “You managed.” “You are difficult to keep down.” “That part I'm proud of.” Lordi nodded. “You should be.” The plaza had become strangely quiet. Thousands of people were still watching, but something in the fight had changed so obviously that even the crowd understood not to fill the silence. Ace looked at him. No hostility now. No reason left. Just two people standing in the wreckage of a fight neither had truly chosen. Lordi glanced toward the shattered concrete around them. Then toward the tower. Then back to Ace. “You fought well.” Ace gave him a small nod. “So did you.” No joke. No sting. He accepted it. Ace looked at Shammy. She was still holding the katanas. Still watching Lordi carefully. But the tension had gone out of her posture. That mattered more than anything else. Ace stepped forward and took the harness back. She slid it over her shoulders. The familiar weight settled into place. Home. Lordi watched. His eyes flicked briefly to the black collar at her throat again. Then away. Ace noticed. Of course she did. She tightened one strap. Looked at him. And smiled. Not broadly. Just enough. “Tell Mephisto I said hi.” Shammy's head turned sharply toward Ace. Lordi went completely still. Not confused. Not surprised in the way someone hearing an unknown name would be surprised. Recognizing. Understanding. For one second, the entire plaza seemed to narrow down to the look between them. Ace said nothing else. Lordi did not ask. That was the important part. He simply studied her. Then something almost like approval passed through his expression. Very small. Very old. He raised one hand. Not dramatically. Not a military salute. Just a short, unmistakable acknowledgment. Respect. Ace answered with a tiny nod. Lordi disappeared. No flash. No portal. No explosion. No smoke. No collapsing demonic vortex. One moment he was standing there. The next, the space was empty. The music stopped. Every display around Arasaka Tower went black. Then, one by one, Night City's ordinary advertising returned. Cars. Weapons. Luxury. Braindance. Debt. The city resumed selling itself with insulting speed. The crowd remained silent for three full seconds. Then it erupted. Ace closed her eyes. “Oh, fuck.” Shammy stepped beside her. “They are happy.” “They are loud.” “Yes.” Ace opened one eye. Half the plaza had shards raised. People were screaming her name. Someone had apparently started chanting. Someone else was crying. Ace looked around. “We need to leave.” “Yes.” “Immediately.” “Yes.” Ace started walking. Shammy followed. They made it six steps. A voice from the crowd shouted: “ACE! DID YOU WIN?” Ace stopped. Turned. Looked at the cracked plaza. Looked at the empty place where Lordi had stood. Then raised both hands. “No!” The crowd quieted slightly. Ace pointed toward the empty space. “He didn't either!” That somehow made them cheer louder. Ace stared. “Wrong answer.” Shammy smiled. “Maybe not.” Ace muttered something impolite and kept walking. They left the plaza through a corridor the crowd opened for them. Hands reached out. Shards followed. Voices overlapped. Ace ignored almost all of it. Her mind had already moved somewhere else. Mai. Safehouse. The thing Shammy had said. Not the whole trap. Ace touched the collar again. “Call her.” Shammy already had. The connection opened. Mai answered immediately. “Ace.” One word. Enough. Ace heard breathing behind it. Movement. Something broken. Her humor vanished. “We're done.” “So are we.” Ace slowed. Shammy stopped beside her. “What happened?” Mai was silent for half a second. Then: “They came here.” Ace's face changed. The crowd noise around them became irrelevant. “How many?” “Enough.” “Brenda?” “Fine.” “Iris?” “Fine.” “You?” “Fine.” Ace looked at Shammy. She had heard all of it. “Reyes?” A pause. “Here.” Ace frowned. “Reyes?” “And Ash.” Ace stopped walking. “What?” “Later.” That was apparently tonight's universal answer. Ace breathed once. Hard. “Did they get inside?” “No.” Mai's voice changed. Barely. “No one got through the door.” Ace closed her eyes. Relief arrived as anger. Fast. Hot. Very Ace. “I'm coming home.” “I know.” The call ended. Shammy watched her. Ace looked back toward Arasaka Tower. The plaza still screamed behind them. Screens replayed nothing yet. Night City would fix that soon. They would have angles. Clips. Slow motion. Commentary. Conspiracy. The whole city would remember the demon. Ace looked toward Watson instead. “Shammy.” “Yes?” “Run.” They ran. --- The Safehouse looked worse than Mai had allowed herself to notice during the fight. That happened sometimes. A room could remain tactical until the shooting stopped. Then it became home again. And home had holes in it. The front door was mostly destroyed. The table lay on its side. One wall carried a ragged line of bullet impacts. The lamp beside the couch was gone. The couch itself had two holes through the backrest. Mai stared at those longer than she should have. Reyes noticed. “You're looking at the couch.” Mai kept staring. “Yes.” “Priorities.” “It was a good couch.” Reyes looked at the damage. “Still mostly couch.” “Mostly is not an acceptable furniture category.” Brenda laughed from the kitchen. The laugh was slightly too sharp. Iris touched her back. It softened. Better. Ash stood near the ruined entrance. Not resting. Not socializing. Checking. One magazine replaced. One weapon inspected. One final look down the corridor. The cult leader's body still lay outside the threshold. Mai looked at him. Then toward Ash. “Question.” Ash glanced over. “Go ahead.” “How did you know?” Ash answered instantly. “Rogue.” Reyes looked at her. “That's it?” “Yes.” Mai studied her. “Rogue called you.” “Yes.” “For this address.” “Yes.” “What did she tell you?” Ash looked toward the doorway. Then at Mai. “Enough.” Reyes crossed her arms. “Oh, that's comforting.” Ash ignored the comment. Mai looked at the dead cult leader. Then at the exact point where he had fallen. “One more question.” Ash waited. “Was the door part of your contract?” A tiny pause. Not uncertainty. Decision. Ash checked the weapon once more. “My contract is fulfilled.” That was the answer. And not an answer. Mai's eyes narrowed. Reyes stared at Ash for a second. Then laughed under her breath. “Yeah. Rogue.” Ash gave Mai one short nod. Then another to Reyes. No goodbye. No explanation. No gratitude expected. No attempt to join the aftermath. She turned and walked down the corridor. Reyes watched her disappear around the corner. Silence followed. Then: “What the fuck kind of contract was that?” Mai looked at the broken doorway. “I don't know.” Reyes looked at the dead leader. “Do you want to know?” Mai thought about it. “No.” Another pause. “Which means I absolutely want to know.” Reyes smiled. “Good.” Mai finally looked away from the corridor. Brenda sat on the edge of the counter now. Iris stood between her knees. Both alive. Both intact enough. Reyes alive. Ash gone. Ace and Shammy coming home. Mai let herself breathe. Then she looked at the dead cult leader again. And the exact place his boot had touched the threshold. Something about the timing would matter. She knew that already. She just did not yet know how much. --- ## Chapter 6 — More Questions Ace reached the Safehouse before the crowd at Arasaka Tower had figured out what story it wanted to tell. That was probably the only reason she got home without being followed by half of Night City. Probably. She took the stairs two at a time anyway. Shammy stayed close behind. The corridor smelled like rain, hot wiring, burned propellant, plaster dust, and the faint metallic edge left after too much violence in too little space. Ace slowed. The ruined door came into view. Then the blood. Then the body outside it. Then Mai. Standing. Alive. Ace stopped. Mai looked up. For one second, nobody spoke. Then Ace crossed the remaining distance fast. Not running. Almost. Mai met her halfway. Ace's hands went to her first. Shoulders. Arms. Sides. Checking. Mai caught both wrists. “Ace.” “You said fine.” “I am fine.” “You use that word irresponsibly.” “You taught me.” “That is slander.” Mai pulled her closer. Ace went without argument. Forehead against Mai's shoulder. One breath. Two. The black collar at Ace's throat pressed briefly against Mai's neck. Mai's hand settled at the back of Ace's head. No speech. No dramatic reunion. Just proof. Still here. Shammy stepped through the broken doorway. Mai reached one hand toward her without releasing Ace. Shammy took it immediately, fingers closing around Mai's for one quiet squeeze. Mai pulled once. Shammy came the rest of the way without hesitation, close enough that her shoulder pressed into Mai's and one large hand settled carefully across Ace's back. Three. Still here. Then Brenda looked up from where she sat on the counter. Her expression changed instantly. “Holy shit.” Ace lifted her head. “What?” Brenda pointed. “At you.” Ace looked down. Her jacket was filthy. One sleeve half-torn. Concrete dust across her knees. A darkening bruise already visible along one side. She considered herself. “Fashion.” Iris looked at her ribs. “That is not fashion.” “Night City disagrees.” Reyes leaned against the surviving section of wall and looked Ace over once. “Demon hit you?” “Several times.” “Good.” Ace stared. “Good?” “Means you didn't spend the whole fight showing off.” Ace considered that. “Fair.” Shammy entered fully and shut what remained of the door as much as the frame allowed. It accomplished almost nothing. Brenda pointed toward it. “That's symbolic now.” Mai looked at the damage. “Yes.” Ace finally looked properly around the room. The table. Wall. Lamp. Couch. She stopped. Looked at the couch. Then at Mai. “No.” Mai exhaled. “I know.” “They shot the couch.” “Yes.” Ace walked over slowly. Touched one of the holes. Stared. Reyes watched her. “I told her it was mostly still couch.” Ace turned. “Mostly couch is not couch.” Mai pointed toward Reyes. “Thank you.” Reyes looked between them. “You two are insane.” Brenda raised one hand. “I agree with them.” Iris looked at her. “Of course you do.” Ace straightened. The humor left again. She looked toward the body outside the door. “Leader?” Mai nodded. “Most likely.” “Got in?” “No.” Ace looked at the threshold. The exact placement. One boot mark. Blood. Body lying outside. No one inside. Something tightened in her expression. Shammy felt it too. “The binding broke at the same time.” Everyone looked at her. Mai went still. “What?” Shammy stepped closer to the doorway. “When he died.” She pointed toward the body. “Lordi stopped.” Ace nodded. “Instantly.” Mai looked at Ace. “Stopped how?” “Mid-fight.” “Collapsed?” “No.” “Disappeared?” “After.” Shammy continued. “The pressure around him snapped first.” Mai's attention sharpened. “The thing you felt earlier.” “Yes.” “The binding.” “Yes.” Brenda looked between them. “So him dying killed Lordi?” Ace shook her head. “No.” Iris frowned. “Freed him?” Shammy considered the word. “Closer.” Mai looked at the cult leader again. Then the doorway. “So this man was maintaining it.” “Maybe,” Shammy said. Ace crossed her arms. “Or carrying it.” Mai nodded slowly. “Anchor.” “Maybe.” Reyes looked down at the body. “So we shot the demon's leash.” Ace looked at her. “Basically.” Reyes nodded. “Good night.” Brenda exhaled hard. “Can we please have one normal attack?” Ace looked around. “No.” “That was rhetorical.” “Still no.” Mai stepped toward Shammy. “What happened after the binding broke?” Shammy looked at Ace. Ace answered. “He relaxed.” That word landed oddly. Mai noticed. “Relaxed.” “Yeah.” “He didn't attack again?” “No.” “He said anything?” Ace paused. Not long. Long enough for Shammy to notice. Mai noticed too. “What?” Ace looked at her. “Nothing important.” Shammy's head tilted slightly. Ace looked back at her. Shammy said nothing. Good. Mai watched both of them. Suspicious. Then decided there were larger problems. For now. “What did he do?” Ace adjusted one katana strap. “Short salute.” Brenda blinked. “Seriously?” “Yep.” “And then?” “Gone.” “Portal?” “No.” “Smoke?” “No.” “Fire?” “No.” “Dramatic demon explosion?” “No.” Brenda looked genuinely disappointed. “That feels like wasted branding.” Ace almost smiled. “Entrance was good enough.” Shammy nodded. “Very good.” Mai looked between them. “You two are reviewing the demon's production values.” “Yes,” Ace said. “Absolutely,” Shammy said. Mai closed her eyes briefly. “Of course.” Reyes looked toward the broken door. “We have a different problem.” That pulled everyone back. Ace followed her gaze. “The address.” Mai nodded. Nobody joked. The Safehouse changed around that silence. Not physically. Emotionally. Bullet holes could be repaired. Doors replaced. Furniture replaced. The address was different. Someone had known. Not guessed the district. Not followed them by chance. Known exactly where to come. Known when Ace and Shammy would leave. Known enough about the Triad to build the entire operation around expected behavior. Ace's face went still. “Who had it?” Mai answered immediately. “Too many people.” Reyes shook her head. “Not like this.” Mai looked at her. Reyes pointed toward the corridor. “They came prepared for the building.” Brenda nodded. “They knew the frame.” Mai's expression hardened. “They knew the service route.” Iris added: “They knew where the interior line would be.” Ace looked slowly around the room. Home. The word felt different now. Shammy's attention drifted toward the windows. “Someone studied us.” Mai nodded. “Yes.” “Recently?” “I don't know.” Ace looked at the dead cult leader. “Can we ask him?” Reyes glanced down. “Not unless your demon friend taught you something useful.” Ace looked at her. “Not friend.” “Sure.” “Seriously.” “Short salute.” Ace pointed at her. “Respect is not friendship.” Reyes smiled. “That's how you met me.” Ace opened her mouth. Stopped. Mai's mouth twitched. Brenda failed completely and laughed. Even Iris smiled. Ace looked around at all of them. “This household is hostile.” “Mostly couch,” Reyes said. Ace stared. Reyes grinned. There. Safety. For half a second. Then Mai looked toward the corridor. “Ash.” Ace's expression changed again. “You said Rogue sent her.” “Yes.” “Why?” Mai glanced at Reyes. Reyes met the look. Neither answered. Ace frowned. “You asked?” “Yes.” “And?” Mai folded her arms. “Contract fulfilled.” Ace stared. “That was the answer?” “That was the end of the conversation.” Shammy looked thoughtful. “Rogue knew.” Mai nodded. “Enough to call Ash.” Ace looked toward the ruined doorway. “How long before the attack?” “No idea.” Reyes added: “And Ash wasn't improvising.” Ace's eyes narrowed. “Meaning?” “She had a job.” Mai nodded. “A specific one.” Ace looked at her. “What kind?” Mai's gaze went to the threshold. “Possibly one involving that door.” Silence. Brenda looked down at the cult leader. Iris followed. Shammy did too. Ace's expression flattened. “Oh.” Reyes nodded. “Yeah.” Ace rubbed one hand over her face. “Great.” Mai looked toward the dead leader again. “Rogue either predicted this or knew enough to prepare for it.” Ace looked at her. “And didn't tell us.” Mai shook her head. “We don't know that.” “Feels adjacent.” “Yes.” Brenda hopped down from the counter. “So we have: one literal demon, one cult, one dead guy who may have been a supernatural USB cable, one compromised home address, one mystery Rogue contract, and one extremely dead couch.” Ace pointed at her. “Thank you for maintaining priorities.” Iris looked at Brenda. “You forgot the citywide media takeover.” “Right.” Brenda raised another finger. “And demonic admin privileges.” Mai looked at Ace. “That phrase is never becoming official.” “It already has.” “No.” “Yes.” Shammy smiled faintly. Reyes sighed. Then the Safehouse finally began to settle. Not into peace. Not yet. Into aftermath. Mai checked Iris properly. Iris checked Brenda. Reyes cleared the corridor. Shammy moved through the room touching nothing, feeling everything. Ace stood near the broken door and looked out into the hall. The cult leader's body remained where it had fallen. Outside. Never inside. Ace touched the black collar again. Once. Then looked at Mai. “We move?” Mai understood immediately. “Tonight?” “Can we trust this location?” Mai looked around the room. At the damage. At Brenda. Iris. Reyes. Shammy. Ace. Then toward the doorway. “Yes.” Ace frowned. Mai continued. “For tonight.” That distinction mattered. “We don't abandon home because someone found it.” Ace studied her. Then nodded. “Okay.” “But we change every access assumption tomorrow.” “Obviously.” “Every physical layer.” “Yes.” “Every digital layer.” “Sure.” “Every fallback route.” Ace sighed. “There are the spreadsheets.” Mai looked offended. “These are security matrices.” Brenda pointed. “Called it.” Iris covered her face. Reyes laughed. Shammy finally sat down. Not on the couch. The couch was, apparently, under review. Ace looked at the clock. 00:41. Less than two hours earlier she had been upside down on that same couch accusing furniture of hostility. Now a demon had challenged her in front of Arasaka Tower. A cult had attacked their home. Rogue had sent Ash. A dead man outside their door had apparently been tied to a supernatural binding. And Lordi had disappeared after saluting her. Normal Saturday. Ace exhaled. Mai came to stand beside her. “Coffee?” Ace looked at her. “Actual coffee?” “Yes.” “Then yes.” Mai started toward the kitchen. Ace caught her hand. Mai looked back. Ace squeezed once. Nothing more. Mai squeezed back. Then continued. Around them, the Safehouse carried the damage. The people inside carried less. For now. Outside, Night City was almost certainly already arguing about whether Ace had won. Inside, nobody cared. The fight at Arasaka Tower had been the part everyone saw. The door was the part that mattered. And none of them yet knew who had pointed the cult toward it.