A slow trickle of water works it's way down the stone wall beside me as I wait for Tawny and the others beneath the mangled remains of the Irrigator. When a droplet falls I reach out to catch it, drawing my hand back and studying the small pool created in my palm. My thoughts turn to emerging from a desert swim and finding someone waiting for me by a cracking bonfire. I shake the memory clear the instant I catch myself smiling, coming to focus just as the sound of approaching footsteps reaches my ears.

Pushing off the rusty bit of pipe I was leaning against I go to meet them. I cross my arms and stop a few feet short of Tawny and her crew, ignoring the instinct to step back when Tawny adjusts the bulky pack strapped to her shoulders. Best-case scenario she is carrying only a detonator but I'd be willing to bet that more than one unstable invention is taking up residence inside that bag. When my part in this mission is over I am going to make it my business to be as far from Tawny and her pack as possible.

"Well, strike me down." Babel's lead anarchist whistles softly, "You're early."

"Miracles happen." I respond. "Are you ready?"

"Are you? Have you found a way in?"

"Of course." I feign offence. "All that's left is to dispose of the Brutes guarding the door. I just wanted to make sure that you've made good use of the last twelve hours before getting my hands dirty."

Amusement shows on her face as Tawny indicates one of the tunnels across the chamber. "We've carved out a route through there. It's a straight shot to the labs and completely closed off from the Enforcers."

I consider the path she's chosen, draping a black scarf over my head and suppressing a shiver of anticipation. Adrenaline has already begun to work it's way through my veins, bringing with it the thrill of relying purely on my instincts. The heavy Enforcer breastplate is forgotten, discarded alongside the Irrigator. My only armour, tonight will be my lightweight black clothing, my nerve and the ancient dagger tucked into my boot.

Tawny waits for me to finish my preparations, one brow quirked conspiratorially.

"Give me a five-minute head start," My hands have grown steady and my voice cold. "Then send someone to wait outside the vault's main entrance. I should have the guards taken care of by then."

She gives a curt nod. "See you on the other side."

Drawing the scarf up over my nose I take off for the darkness. My footfalls are soft, my breaths even as I hurdle the last pieces of rubble and dive into the tunnel leading to the vault of gunpowder. Kicking off the stone wall I reach out and grab the metal piping overhead, heaving myself up into the narrow space between the tunnel's ceiling and the pipes.

The bolts securing the pipe dig into my knees and palms. Gritting my teeth I crawl resolutely forward, letting the distant echo of shuffling bodies guide me. Time is indeterminable but eventually the Brutes come into view, a pair of grotesquely-sized shoulders filling the narrow passageway. Eyes flicking to the hatch door behind them I slow but don't stop, creeping the last few feet and dropping into the space between the Madam's monsters and the gunpowder.

The Brutes are slow to turn and my dagger is clenched in my fist long before they can fully register my presence. Raking the blade across the throat of the first I duck and roll out of the way of the second, re-appearing behind him and kicking out at both his knees, driving the behemoth to the floor. The metal gear embedded in his chest slams violently into the stone and I catch hold of his head when it snaps back, twisting his neck and severing the bones in the space of a second.

The Brute slumps lifelessly from my hands. I remain very still, poised and tense while I strain my ears for any sound. Long moments pass with only the definitive click of the dying gears before I rise carefully to my feet, wiping my dagger clean and stowing it away.

I Ignore the bright yellow signs warning of Danger and Explosives pasted outside the door and wrap my fingers around the cool metal handle. Twisting the hatch open, I step back so that I remain in it's shadow and wait until silence convinces me that it's safe to look inside. Easing around the entrance, I grope for a switch and watch as one by one, the lights overhead reveal the vault's contents.

Tawny did not disappoint.

Rows upon rows of powder kegs line the walls of the cavern, reaching high over my head and stretching as far as the eye can see. The chamber is so large that it appears to twist away from me, following the dome's curvature. I place a cautious foot forward, then another until I am standing surrounded by the barrels of black powder. Moving toward the nearest shelf, I warily eye the darkened paths of scaffolding overhead before forcing my heartbeat to steady and taking a deep breath.

It's time to get to work.

The first barrel is loosed easily enough. I pull a keg from one of the bottom shelves to the floor, cringing when it lands with a dull thud. Rolling it towards the hatch door I discover that two of Tawny's rebels are already clearing our path of the Brutes' bodies. I leave the barrel at the door and go to grab another, then another.

We work efficiently and one by one, the chamber's contents are swallowed up by the tunnel leading to the Tower's gruesome workshop. I imagine the barrels stacked in piles before the Lab's various entryways, rubbing my arms when my muscles begin to protest. As the shelves steadily deplete their reserves I keep my senses on high alert, stubbornly refusing to fall into any traps.

When sounds of the fight first reach my ears they are still a ways off. I freeze, standing stock-still while straining to decipher the noises.

"What—?" One of the young rebels sticks his head through the hatch door, breaking off his question when he sees me.

The scuffle grows louder, met with shouts that echo distantly off the stone walls.

"You need to run." I say simply. The order is directed at the boy but my eyes dart around the storage facility. Pathways and vantage points reveal themselves to me, the possibilities glowing red.

"I can fight." The boy's brave offer is betrayed by a waver in his voice.

"I know." I let my gaze fall to him. In the dim light he appears as white as a ghost, growing even more pale when the distinct clicking of many metal gears sounds from the darkness. "But there is nothing you can do here, tonight. Save that fight for tomorrow, when you can actually do some good."

"What about you?"

My dagger has found it's way into my hand. I finger the worn hilt, the familiar weight my companion through more battles than I can recall.

"I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be." I hear myself say, the boy already forgotten. "Go."

He disappears, leaving me surrounded by kegs of gunpowder and walls of stone. I vaguely register his retreating footsteps while I stand and wait, ready and able to fly the instant they come for me.

And come, they do.

Brutes spill into the chamber, blank and ruthless and primed for battle. I dance backwards, parrying off the first few monsters before ducking through one of the emptied shelves and inviting them to follow. Armoured shoulders shove their way between the heavy racks and drive towards me, their weapons raised. I kick out, knocking away sword after sword, placing a foot on the back of one mechanical soldier and leaping into the would-be sky.

Grasping the edge of a rack I pull myself up, clambering shelf-by-shelf toward the ceiling. The Brutes' dead, unseeing eyes track me as they fill the ground below, clambering over one another in relentless pursuit. Once I have gained a few feet I brace myself and grit my teeth, shoving one of the barrels free of it's perch and grinning with a grim sense of satisfaction when it smashes into the head of a Brute. The rack beneath me sways dangerously with the weight of too many enemies and I leap across to land on another, barely managing to regain my balance as the first shelf slowly topples over.

The sound of barrels and twisted iron colliding with heavy armour is deafening. I don't pause to admire the wreckage, climbing to the topmost shelf and taking off for the far end of the chamber, knowing full-well that I won't find a way out. It doesn't matter; I have never chosen surrender over a chase before and have no intention of starting now.

"Over there!" A human voice amidst the grunts and clicks of the Brutes tell me that the Enforcers have arrived. I slow my pace but only barely, waiting until some of my attackers have caught up before freeing a further two barrels.

Black powder spills across the floor, coating it along with the shards splintered wood. Taking advantage of the momentary distraction I jump across to another rack, doubling back and heading for the exit. Another barrel falls before the Brutes and Enforcers can notice my change in direction and converge. The horde takes care of the rest, yanking the shelf out from beneath me just as I once more become airborne, hands outstretched to catch onto the flimsy bit of scaffolding near the ceiling.

Dangling one-handed for several long, precarious moments I grit my teeth and see red. Images of toppled shelves, spilled powder and robotic warriors dance before me, my chest seizing at the sight of such blind dedication. An unholy cry tears from my throat as I swing my other arm up onto the rungs of the overhead bridge, every muscle in my battered body screaming as I drag myself onto the scaffold. My safety is short-lived, the dull realization coming in the form of a tremor that rattles the flimsy iron beneath me. Pushing myself up onto my hands and knees, I look to the stairs at the far end of the platform. Half a dozen Brutes have found their way up and are working their way steadily toward me, every one of their heavy steps threatening to wrench the platform from it's supports. A glance behind me tells the same story, meaning that there will be no easy way off this bridge. When I rise to my feet I stumble only a little, prepared to spend my last precious seconds on searching for a place to land. What feels like the whole of the Madam's brigade surges beneath me and steadily closes in from both sides; I won't be able to win a fight against the mechanized warriors.

If I'm going to stand any chance of getting out of this chamber alive, it will be through the still-human Enforcers.

Climbing up onto the railing, I flinch at the phantom pain stemming from my left knee. The anticipation of impact is already humming it's way through my body and I lose the opportunity to steady myself as one of the Brutes makes a sudden wild leap. I jump, arms pinwheeling as I plummet to the ground.

I slam violently against one of the fallen shelves, the barrels doing little to cushion my fall. Wood and powder shatter around me, confusing my senses with blackness and the heavy scent of charcoal. Head spinning and body aching I collapse on my first attempt to stand. On the second attempt I manage to regain some footing, holding aloft my shaking dagger while concealing the blade behind my forearm.

"Anyone comes near me and I will blow this place straight to the Burn!" I shout into the haze, my words strong despite the powder coating my throat.

The Enforcers stop in their tracks but the oversized shadows beyond them show no sign of slowing down.

"I mean it!" I force as much ferocity into my voice as I can muster, waving the hilt of my dagger wildly. "I have a detonator and I'm prepared to take you all down with me."

Panic shows on more than one face and one of the Enforcers fumbles with the radio at his waist. The conversation that follows is lost in the haze of desperation, a dangerous red cloud forcing it's way in.

An ear-splitting screech suddenly fills the vault and I nearly drop my weapon and give away the game. The silence that follows is shocking enough that I think myself deaf before prying my eyes open. When I do, I find a sight so eerie that it turns my blood cold. The Brutes are frozen in place, their empty stares full of nothingness while their weapons rest harmlessly at their sides. My focus returns to the Enforcers, understanding the source of the painful signal that stopped the Brutes when I see the radio being held aloft.

I straighten slowly, as though the tracest breath could bring the monsters back to life. Conscious that this is the moment I've waited for I summon all my strength and take a step further.

"Take me to her." I demand. "I want to see her."

The Enforcers trade nervous glances. Several pairs of eyes flick to the dagger concealed in my hand and I tighten my grip.

"I'll hand this over." I make the promise grimly, indicating my decoy detonator. "I don't want to hurt you. I just want to see her."

"Do as she says." One of the Enforcers urges. "The Madam said we could bring her back alive."

"She's still worth something dead."

"Yeah, but we aren't."

"Will you assholes shut up? I'm trying to think."

"I don't give a flying fuck what we do, let's just get out of this tinderbox."

The bickering ends abruptly when the first Enforcer shoves his radio back into his belt and gestures at two of the guards. "Cuff her and let's get bloody well out."

The Enforcers do as he says. When my arm is grabbed I don't so much as flinch, obediently handing over my dagger with a slight grin of apology. Cold iron bites into my wrists before I am dragged from the mound of gunpowder and pushed roughly toward the hatch door. Another signal bleats from the Enforcer's radio and the Brutes are brought back to life, shuffling as one godless entity as they trail us back through the tunnel and up a service stairwell to the surface.

A carriage similar to the one Geoff used to smuggle me back into the Babel pulls up just as we emerge. I am shoved inside, landing painfully when the cuffs prevent me from breaking my fall. Despite the ugly bruises already forming I can't help but be amused at how familiar my circumstances are.

Three Enforcers join me in the carriage before the door is shut and locked securely. As we set off down the long road toward to the Tower I ignore the glances being thrown in my direction, my mind churning with preparations for what's to come. The colour red is never far from reach but I ignore it's song, keeping my focus precisely where it needs to be.

Survival.

I just have to stay in the game for a short while longer, I'm so very close, now and drawing closer by the second. Despite the rough mode of transport I remain very still, drawing shallow breaths while a thousand battles rage within me.

Fury. Injustice. Vengeance. While many of the usual suspects have turned up, fear is noticeably absent. It is no wonder why; when I have nothing to lose, I have nothing to fear.

No, I'm not afraid.

I'm ready.