Page 267 of Fatality

“Damn!” Neo shouts, pinching his nose shut. “Someone definitely died in here. And they probably shit themselves first.”

I nod in agreement and keep moving, stepping over the junk scattered across the floor or kicking it out of my way.

“Boss,” Varek's voice cuts through the stench. “Over there.” He jerks his chin toward a dark corner.

I follow his gaze and see two robots step out of the shadows.

No faces and instead of hands, they've got fucking knives and guns.

My body tenses, and my adrenal booster kicks in, making my eyes glow and my muscles tighten.

“Please, follow us,” one of them says—or whatever you'd call that mechanical voice.

I sweep my gaze over them, then jerk my chin toward Neo.

Neo steps forward and cocks his gun.

We came prepared for something like this. His weapon is loaded with electric rounds designed to fry a robot's entire system.

I knew something felt wrong the moment I got the text with the meeting location.

First, it's in an isolated tunnel.

Second, the message itself was fucking weird.

For the device, please prepare one hundred thousand GC. Come alone and unharmed to Ash & Iron at 1000 hours. -K.

Third, I'm not a fucking idiot.

I know how this shit works and with everything I have, if this is a setup, I'll kill the bastard before he can signal those robots he probably fucks.

Plus, I got a main reason to not die there in this shithole.

I need to get back to her, see her, touch her and go to that fucking ball.

So there's no way I'm letting him—or his robots—lay a finger on me or my men.

The three of us follow them and end up in what looks like the store's basement.

It's bigger than the shop upstairs.

One corner is packed with hundreds of Smart Panels and shattered glass.

A lone figure stands in the middle of the room, surrounded by six robots—not counting the two that escorted us.

“Welcome,” the figure says.

His voice is mechanical, not human.

My eyes narrow, Varek uncrosses his arms, Neo raises his gun.

“I told you to come alone.”

“Well,” I smile, “I'm not the type to obey.”

“Very well.” The voice remains perfectly calm, unsettlingly calm.

“You have the credits?”