The smell of grilled meat and vegetables fills the air by the newsstand. My mouth hardly waters. I'm too busy scanning the tunnel for a scrawny boy in a hoodie, maybe with a backpack slung over his shoulders.

His shadow emerges from the left side, hurrying past a group of laughing teenagers leaving the restaurant.

"No record," he says. My head tilts to the side. "Jem wasn't a cyborg. I looked everywhere."

"Hmm." I pull out a small pod and hand it over. "All the plans are listed here. They were too important to send out through a message, even if said message were encrypted."

Talc receives the phone, dropping it in a side pouch on his backpack.

"Study the plans tonight," I say. "We need to break into the CryoFuture tomorrow during lunch."

"But the surgery. There's—"

"We need to confirm our suspicions. We think there's some shady cyborg stuff going on. Whatever we find tomorrow will prove it. Besides, we need to find out where their true operation site is."

Talc nods. He starts to turn, a sickened expression on his face.

"Watch your back on the way home," I say. His chin turns to the side, though his back is to me. "I think Gang One is onto us."

***

"Aurablade, you copy?"

I crane my neck, staring at the highrise's peak. Surrounded by brick walls in a small alley across the street, no passerby catches my eye. I'm secured in the shadows.

"Copy, Talc."

"I'm in." Clicks come over the phone, the sound of fingers flying across keys. "Security shift change complete. I'll secure the landing pad."

Another series of taps patters over the phone.

"There's three guards up there now. I see two others coming up the stairwell now." Several seconds pass. "They just changed. New security personnel on top, the previous ones are headed down the stairs."

"Moving into position." I slip onto the street, walking several blocks down. There, stairs ascend to the subway platform. A glass tunnel juts out from the platform, reaching across the street far past the CryoFuture's building. The ground rumbles underfoot as a subway shoots along the tunnel, pausing at the platform. While people mill about, trying to board, I slip to the back of the line.

Between the tunnel's glass sides and the subway's rounded body, there's a sliver of space for me to pass through. Cold metal constricts my sides as I slip through. I glance at my watch. In two minutes, the subway will resume on its path, and if I haven't slipped past it, it will rip me into tiny shreds.

The subway is longer than I anticipated. Seconds tick down on my watch, seconds until the massive steel car resumes. Light beams glisten to my left, a sign that I'm almost past. Sweat beads on my brows, and I grunt and strain, pulling myself through.

At last, I reach the end. I stumble into the open air, racing ahead just as the subway eases back into motion, rocking on its tracks before resuming its path downward.

I duck to the side, not wanting an attendant to spot me. A holographic map appears on my wrist when I tap it, and I follow it along the tunnel. After several minutes, the CryoFuture's building looms ahead. It has dark, glass walls and metal beams form squares from the top to the ground level. The top of the building is several stories away from my location on the subway tunnel.

And now, to get out.

I remove a glass cutter from my pocket and press it to the glass. It slices through the tunnel's sides in four, neat cuts along the outer edges. Then, pressing ever so slightly on the side, the glass shifts just enough for one side to stick out toward me. I pull the edge away from the main, steel frame and place the glass panel on the ground. A breeze blows in through the hole. I glance at my wrist again.

In less than twenty minutes, the next subway will be tearing through here.

From my pocket, I draw out a rope. The end of it has a small adhesive that when I toss at the building, it sticks to the glass. I pull the rope taut and secure it to the tunnel's side. Then, I grab onto the rope and walk my hands along it. The muscles in my arm burn from the exertion, the same feeling I get whenever I train, and rope fibers dig into my palms. A steady stream of adrenaline leaches into my bloodstream. My heartbeat quickens, yet it remains steady, even at its faster pace. I power along the rope, one hand at a time.

Finally, I reach the end. I swing myself onto the building, my foot landing on a metal beam surrounding a dark-brown glass panel. My arms reach above, and my fingers find another ledge. Though the metal is slippery and smooth, I manage to grasp it, hoisting myself up higher and higher, until I reach the top of the building.

A metal fence surrounds the top landing. I peer through the bars, at the three guards posted in a triangle. Immediately, my eye is drawn to the blindspot their position leaves, and that's where I maneuver.

Three guards is always better than four. At least, for any Elyminai.

I peek over the top again. One hand dips to my side, leaving me hanging off the roof with one arm. Fire builds in my muscles, but I grit my teeth against it. My other hand finds the trigger on my gun. I place the gun against the top of the building, aiming for the nearest guard's heart.

I squeeze the trigger. A blue pellet shoots through the target's black uniformed shirt. He collapses as I shoot the next guard, then the third just when he was turning around.

The three thud to the ground with barely a grunt. Any sound made is lost to the wind.

I haul myself onto the roof, then check-in with Talc.

"Guards subdued."

"The cameras are off," Talc replies.

My eyes drift to my watch. Twelve minutes left.

I turn one guard over. He has a security pass in his shirt pocket, right below where a red stain blooms on the fabric. I take it, then pull open a trap door in the ground. It leads to a staircase descending into the building. I hurry down unfinished steps until they end at a door. Holding the pass up to a small, black box on the side, the lock springs open, allowing me entrance into an office area.

A woman exits an office on the side, and I dive behind a filing cabinet right by the door. She approaches, heels clicking as she rounds the corner, headed away from the cabinet.

My eyes drift to my watch. Ten minutes. There's no way I can get back before the next subway. And if someone on board notices the rope and open panel and reports it to the CryoFuture...

Time to move. I peer over the top of the filing cabinet. No one passes by, so I slip past the open office area, headed to where the corridor is lined with offices.

"Headed to room 2304," I whisper. Several doors pass by before one flickers the neon digits '2304.' It cracks open, and I push inside the dark room, shutting the door behind me. I duck behind the desk, where the security camera has a blind spot, and remove a screwdriver from my pocket. I twist the bolts off an air vent, set the grate aside, then crawl inside.

My head scrapes the top of the shaft. Dust gets in my eyes and fills my lungs. I fight the urge to cough by keeping my breathing steady, by not thinking about the tiny particles floating through the air.

A holographic light shines from my wrist, illuminating the passage. I crawl to the left and right, forcing myself to go as fast as possible. Sweat beads on my skin. My black shirt and pants cling to me, trapping more and more heat as it builds from my exertion.

Eight minutes, thirty seconds left.

Once I reach the study, everything must run perfectly if I have any chance of making it before the next subway.

Sweat trickles down the side of my face. I'm panting, suffocating in dust, particles that are likely now clinging to my slick skin. A minute later, I reach the end of the grate.

Drawing the screwdriver from my pocket, I loosen the screws, dropping each one in my palms. I carefully place them in the vent's opening, the grate perched against the wall, then glance around the room. There's a desk with several monitors on it, and a filing cabinet pressed against the right wall. Otherwise, Argon's records office is empty.

I send a quick message to Talc. In.

He replies with a thumb's up.

I begin inspecting the sides of the filing cabinet. It resembles more of a black, metal trunk with tons of usb ports on the sides. As I inspect it, I send pictures to Talc.

There. He returns a message to me, circling a small port on the side. I insert the microchip he gave me inside.

Four minutes, forty-five seconds.

A red light appears on the side of the microchip. The electronic filing cabinet lights up with a message on its smooth surface:

Override needed.

I pull out my messaging pod again to ask Talc for help. A single message gives me pause.

Red.

Code red. He's been discovered.

Footsteps echo down the hall, as do voices. I grab the microchip, peering down at my watch.

Three minutes, fifty-five seconds.

Is there enough time to make it to the top of the building? How many guards would I have to get through if I went back the way I came in?

My eyes dart to the vent, then to the dark-tinted windows. I race to it and slice the glass with my knife. It pushes outward, falling to the ground below. I look up, spotting guards peering over the top edge of the building. My rope still dangles in the air, connecting the subway tunnel with the building.

The door crashes open behind me. I whirl around. Bullets spew from my gun. Up above, I spot a guard throwing something through the air. It strikes the rope, which falls downward.

I judge the distance. It descends rapidly, hundreds of meters per second. When it's a story above my location, I propel myself out the window. Bullets ping off my cloak, though several sting the flesh of my legs and ankles.

I grasp the rope just as it passes. It swings all the way back to the subway, leaving me suspended in midair. Bullets continue to fly, but I scurry up the rope. My eyes dart to my watch.

One minute, ten seconds.

My muscles burn. All I can feel is time slipping away and little fires of pain all over my body. My veins pulse under my skin. I can feel the blood flowing through me, adrenaline forcing me to power my way up the rope. It's a reach, pull, reach, pull, all the way up to the top.

Something whizzes toward me. I pull myself higher just in time for a blade to slice the rope below me. The frizzed, knotted section drops beneath me. I continue up three more arm lengths until I'm inside the subway tunnel.

I run. My feet stumble over each other, but I force them forward, force myself to dash to the end of the tunnel. But in the distance, I spot guards flooding in, displacing the civilians.

There's too many to count, too little time to think. I draw my gun and aim at the uniformed security personnel. In the distance, the subway rumbles.

Twenty seconds.

I'm blocked in. The subway at my back, guards at my front.

The only way out is to power through.

Bullets fly at me, though fewer reach me when I hug the right side. I raise my arm over my face to block some of the impact, but I still feel the electric pellets pinging past my cheeks, grazing my neck. I shoot guards in the face, where they're unprotected, but there are too many, and still more flood the area.

I'm running and running. My legs scream at me, yet the voice in my head is louder.

Keep going.

My eyes dart across the platform. There's a small space on the left, where civilians are squished together, frozen in fear. With one last burst of speed, I dart across the tunnel. I plow through the group. Exclamations of terror rise among them, but the people step aside. All I feel is air and adrenaline and desperation to escape.

Metal screeches across the tracks. I jump off the platform. Air rushes beneath me, and I force my tense muscles to relax, if only for a moment.

The ground appears. Shock shudders through my bones, despite the braces supporting my knees.

I keep running. I don't dare glance over my shoulder. Now that I'm back in the main city, I know I can evade them as long as I keep pushing, despite the burning in my lungs, the building pressure constricting my chest.

If there's anything an Elyminai knows, it's where to hide and how to never get caught.