Air that’s taut like a noose, breaths held in unison, questioning eyes. The crowd’s fingers rest on Nico’s trigger.

They came for Ahab but they got him instead, they’re happy enough that way, what they really want is someone to tell them the truth. Crowds historically covet violence, and this one is no different, oohing and aahing at his dramatic retelling of the night Yuri Kisaramoto died. Two men dead, one in ice cold blood - iconic. They’re desperate for a new idol, and Ahab’s going to feed them Nico.

“The last thing he did was threaten me.” Nico’s wearing a mask to hide his face, and amplify his voice. It’s a sauna inside, the air thick with wet breath, sweat dripping down his fur. These are his words, his anger, and said in his voice. Despite that, there’s no real comprehension, and he feels as much a spectator in the crowd as anyone else. The sound is coming from his lips but it means nothing, spoken in a language he can’t understand.

Is that me? He catches a glimpse of himself in the reflective chrome skull of a goat, jeering in the front row. He looks terrifying, and gigantic. Trick of the light?

The crowd is a single-minded creature born of instinct and herd mentality, a collective intelligence made of dozens of individuals all thinking the same way. ‘I will not be told what to think’, they all say together, the dozens in this room and the thousands over netstream. Nico points, and the Beast nods with assent, urging him to go on, ravenous.

If he denies it, they’ll rip him apart.

“Their ivory towers are so tall they haven’t seen the ground for decades! They can’t even imagine falling, and the very idea of being dragged down here into the mud by one of us? The concept of bleeding and crawling like a regular fuckin’ person?” Nico feels the puppeteer shaking his head. He planned this, even wrote the gesture into his speech. This incarnation only goes through the motions. “Impossible, unthinkable. But the truth is they’re weak, weaker than anyone realises – including them. They don’t understand us, and they’ve put themselves so far above the world they won’t see the water rising until it’s filling their lungs. Those bastards, you know who they are!”

He gives them names. Entoptics behind him display the faces, the Beast is nothing but rage and frustration, and Nico needs to help temper it, narrow it down, to help what might become only random looting metastasize into a full-blown revolution.

Yuri Kisaramoto.

Ivana DeShaun.

Fidelis je Tura.

Ethan Clinton, yes, that kind of Clinton, pedigree matters to the elite.

Nico saves the most important for last. The Beast cheers, shouts, pumps it’s hundred unanimous fists. These people want blood, and Nico’s going to help give it to them. This is Ahab’s mission, but that doesn’t mean he can’t steer it in the right direction.

“Not to forget, Reverend Luther, and his deacons of vice and virtue.” His voice is changed by the mask, echoic, like a cyberdemon, a virus straight out of the net. “Don’t let their ceremony fool you, Neodox is just like all the rest, a pyramid scheme selling insurance for the soul! They don’t care what we buy long as they get a cut, right? He props himself up as a saviour of civilisation, a return to tradition, but you’ll find that for enough money, religion can be whatever you want.” Saying this aloud is dangerous, Nico can feel it. Speaking it makes it real, and the Beast cements it, opening up a wound he’s always had but never noticed. A knotted scar across his life, filled with pus, infected with violence, deep beneath the surface where it was so easily forgotten.

Until now.

It feels like it’s been centuries since Nico was the one in the crowd, now he’s their messiah. What was Ahab’s line?

“Selling skin, selling God. The numbers look the same on your credit cards.” The instructions were clear, he has to bide them time. Rile the Beast but then soothe it, keep it calm, let the wound fester so that Leviathan can unleash it, but only when the moment is right. He tells the creature how important the mission is, how they are Leviathan. His tether abilities aren’t anywhere near as powerful as Ahab’s, but he’s been practicing. The floor of the stage curls around him, crunching under the pressure. Can’t do much more, but the Beast doesn’t know that, they see a superhero.

“Be ready.” That’s all he says to them in the end. “Wait, prepare yourself, and watch for the fires. Soon, very soon, you’ll see this city burning. When that happens, the others will be confused. When that happens, people will be angry, they won’t know what’s going on. That’s your place. When the great wave of change comes, we’ll step outside, drag down these self-made Gods, and teach our brothers and sisters how to rip their fucking heads from their God-damn shoulders!”

The Beast howls.

Nico rips the mask from his face, panting. His chest is so tight, there’s not enough room for air. He can still hear the crowd down the hall, cheering and chanting as they filter out of the warehouse. They have to be more careful now, Ahab’s netrunners think the corpses are finally starting to take them seriously. A new location every time, psychonaut guards, burner phones, real spy shit.

He drops the plastic shell on the floor, oddly feeling less safe without it. It’s fashioned like a black fox with white accents, slits for eyes.

“Hey.” Nico can’t look up, but he feels Alaska nearby. Things are weird with them now, and his mouth dries out at just the wolf’s presence. “That went well.”

“You think?” Nico asks. He can’t tell, he can’t even remember being out there. His paws are shaking, bundled into fists. He meets Alaska’s eyes. He’s so angry.

Please kiss me again. He needs to be touched. Only for a second, a momentary brush of fingers across his stomach, that’s all. Alaska’s barely looked at him since they had sex, Nico’s unsure if he should regret it or not.

He asked if he was okay, back at the cabin. I’m fine, just busy. He tried to initiate things again. Not now, just focus on the speech. He even tried getting him back to cyberspace, thinking that might open him back up. Please talk to me, what did I do wrong? I’m sorry. Begging, then later, (alone) tears. I can’t, Ahab’s got me doing some weird shit, no time. Stop pitying yourself.

At least Jalan told him to fuck off upfront.

“Ahab wants to see you,” Alaska says, shifting even closer. Nico sucks in a breath, his muscles locking up.

“I-I can’t. I’m too… too frazzled.” He licks his lips, sandpaper over concrete. He can barely fucking think right now. “That was a lot, there’s nothing in my system but adrenalin, I used his line though, I hope he liked that, I mean, they seemed to, hopefully there weren’t any of the Big--”

“Shut up.” Then Alaska is on him, pinning him to the wall, their fingers interlacing. Nico closes his eyes, inhaling. A kiss on his neck, then a bite, hips grinding together. Something small and sticky pressing to his wrist, where there’s only a little fur, smartgel on skin.

“What’s th--”

“I said shut up. It’s a derm, so you can relax, get it Red?” Nico frowns, but Alaska’s paw is going up under his shirt, running across his abdomen, just like he wanted.

The wolf pulls away. Nico lets out a breath, his heart finally feeling like it might stay put inside his body.

“Any better?” Alaska cocks his head. For a moment he slips, and Nico can see how worried he is. “It takes a moment to really kick in, don’t worry it’s just Guilt Trip – chemical predator that preys on sensations of regret, guilt, etcetera.”

Of course it is. Guilt Trip, cute name. Nico inhales, he’s read about Guilt Trip, psychonauts get hooked on it to deal with all the shit their corpo masters demand. People can say all they want about souls and conscience, but at the end of the day emotions are not much more than neurotransmitters running the show, automatic logic gates linking to different balance in chemical quantities. Most people run far more emotionally than they realise, the logic ideal is a dream sold by pharmaceutical companies – the logical choice is to balance yourself to make smart decisions, but what part is determining that you want to do that? The drug is little more than a helping of serotonin, a cortisol dampener, something to help coax his prefrontal cortex into calming the fuck down.

      Nico holds his wrist up, rubbing at the clear derm. Ads are designed to invoke certain chemical production in the audience, the colours and patterns designed by committee to elicit good feelings – the victim associates this with the product, then they buy it to feel better. Is the Guilt Trip derm really all that different?

There’s a spiralling warmth trailing through him, a tickling on his tongue. He blinks slowly, everything is moving slowly. He can feel his eyeballs, sitting in their sockets, in fact his psychic awareness is stretching out too, and he can feel Alaska right there, the shape of him carved into reality. His tether abilities have been so useless for so long he usually forgets they’re even there.

“Getting there,” Nico says.

The two of them slide down the hallway. Nico can think more clearly now. The crowd, the talk, all of that is so very far away. Kilometres stretch between this moment and the next, and he simply basks in the calm wash of Alaska’s presence near him.

In the safe room, Ahab is standing before an entoptic whiteboard. One of his favoured netrunners, a dreadlocked badger named Barbara, is lounging on the couch. She’s got a razor look to her eyes, and is flicking a little toy in one paw.

If I was straight, would she be the one who met me on the bridge that night?

“Revolutions are about momentum,” Ahab’s explaining, though it sounds like he’s only talking to himself. He’s pointing to a list of events, fingers trailing light. Alaska pats Nico on the small of the back, telling him to stay put, before moving to the side of the room and making himself a drink. Ahab silently ticks off events. French Revolution, 1789. American Independence, 1775. The Nubian Revolt, 2690BC. The Italian Uprising (Failed), 2099. “Small events lead to big events lead to bigger events. A revolt is just a fire fed the right way, you need fuel, you need heat, and you need oxygen, if everything is just right - all it takes is a spark. A singular event that will knock everything else into motion.”

“You’ve explained this,” Barbara says, rolling her eyes. “Repeatedly.” Nobody else speaks to Ahab that way, but she can get away with it. Nico thought she was sleeping with him, but Alaska said it’s not the case.

“I’m just trying to find the right spark, Babs. I need my Franz Ferdinand, something to show them, to wake them up.”

“Dying would probably be the easiest way,” Alaska adds, smirking. “People love a good martyr, maybe StrandTech could hang you?”

Ahab takes a step back, growling. He’s sleek, his fur shiny, like a shadow that got up and walked right off of a wall. “Anchor City is a pressure cooker, the difference in wealth equality right now is more than fourteen times more severe than it was during the French Revolution.”

Alaska snorts, leaning against an archway, miles from Nico. “Which one?”

“The one people care about.” That’s Babs again, with a sneer.

Ahab ignores the bickering. “We have all the pieces, but people are still too scared. Beyond that, the Big Five are strong, weak at their core, but large. They have so many agents and resources we just don’t, experienced soldiers, and two-thirds of their budget is spent on keeping the cattle docile.”

“It’s working,” Babs says. “I’d joke and say there’s something in the water, but we already knew that much.” At a look from Nico, she shrugs. “Very low-level SSRIs, not to mention fluoride, ha, sometimes LSD if we’re lucky.” He can’t tell if she’s joking.

“So we need to distract those resources,” Nico is surprised to realise it’s his own voice saying it. Ahab looks over, yellow eyes puncturing through his soul. Nico drifts slowly, the derm helping him stay calm, helping him think. Ahab wants him here, he’s allowed to speak. “Corpo rats are paranoid, they’re terrified of espionage but they’re also the employers of thousands. There’s no part of them that’s a hundred-percent airtight.”

“Calm down, Red.” Babs, showing Nico her teeth. “You’ve been here a couple months, this isn’t a movie, there’s not some quick fix.”

“But it’s not all wrong.” Ahab circles the room, a predator. “If we could convince the Big Five that Leviathan is actually on the payroll of one of their competitors, then they could end up looking past us and back at one another. Nico’s right, they’re paranoid. So how do we exploit that?”

“StrandTech Expo.” Alaska steps forward, sipping his drink. He gestures to Nico. “Northpoint will have a section there, right?”

Nico nods. “Everyone was talking about it, before I left for Nova Scotia. Things between us and StrandTech have been better than ever, there’s been lots of inter-corp contract work. Northpoint’s section is bigger than any other year prior, and it covers more ground than any of the other five.”

Babs jack-knifes forward in her seat, one finger cocked at Nico like a gun. “Us? What the fuck was that speech then? I thought there was no us.”

“He means metaphorically,” Alaska says, not even looking at her.

“Oh yeah? Don’t you think it’s so convenient?” Babs stands up, and Nico sees how Alaska goes on edge. Ahab only watches, curious as always. He’s strong enough he could probably toss her across the room before she does anything too damaging. Babs steps toward Nico, pointing at his chest. Ordinarily Nico would have shrunk down, terrified, but Guilt Trip courses through him, and he only meets her accusing eyes. “Hot little panda boy, shy and pliable, exactly Alaska’s type, right nice and close to someone as big-fish as Yuri?”

“What are you saying?” Nico asks, cocking his head. He’s so far away, floating on a breeze. “You think Northpoint sacrificed Yuri just so I could get in here?”

She shrugs. “Us. Them. If something seems too good to be true, it probably is.”

“Babs,” Ahab waves her down. “Cool it. We weren’t on their radar when Nico signed up. It’s because of him that we are.”

She huffs once at Nico, upper lip curling. “Fuckin’ plant.”

“Reverend Luther is gonna be there too,” Nico says quietly. In his mind it proves his innocence. How could he be a spy, if he hates something as much as that? The Neodox Church is desperate to get in with the Big Five, everyone knows that much. Having friends that powerful will solidify their hold, make them more legitimate than ever before. More corpo temple than anything resembling a real Church.

“This isn’t about Luther, not right now,” Ahab cautions. “I appreciate that you have a focal point Nico, but we need to work at a singular plan, or this all falls apart.”

“So what, we go after Northpoint at the expo?” Alaska asks. “Try to frame it as if we belong to StrandTech?”

“Northpoint do have something going on,” Babs says. They all look to her, and she falls back into her seat, ignoring Nico’s eyes. “I don’t know what, nobody seems to, but there’s a lot of chatter about some big secret’a theirs. It would make sense.”

Ahab scribbles onto his holographic whiteboard, muttering the words aloud. “Industry plant. Feeding suspicions.” He pauses. “If we can get them to distract their resources, move things around, it might expose a weakness. A hole in the armour to ram our dagger in.”

“It has something to do with Neodox,” Nico adds. How can they not see this? “They’re in big talks with Northpoint, I don’t know why, but they want to know whatever’s happening. If we grabbed Luther, it could look--”

“No.” Ahab’s voice is firm. “Luther’s time in the guillotine is coming, and soon, but not yet. If we go after the Church we’ll only make Leviathan look bad, the public don’t hate him enough yet. We use the Church as a smokescreen, if we leave them untouched it will only confuse them more. That’s the goal.” He nods slowly, looking back to his list of revolutions. “Alaska, find something that Northpoint is going to have on lockdown at the expo, anything. That’s what we want to steal, preferably some valuable patent, a thing none of the other Five have yet. Failing that, find me names of the three highest ranking rats Northpoint are sending. Babs, get all of the maps and plans you can of the expo layout. Work with Nico, and grab Shane’s crew if you can. I want those guys with Alaska on the floor.”

Nico sucks in another breath, he almost locks up again, but the chemicals riding his system ease it out. He swallows a mouthful of saliva, blinking away a fog. “You want me, there at the expo?”

Ahab looks over his shoulder, irritated. “Of course. You can do it, right? We’ll set off a disaster, use the crowds to clog up the halls. You and Shane’s guys will funnel the people out, make a lot of noise, and keep confusion to the maximum. Set off a fire or something if too many badges show up. Meanwhile, Alaska and I grab whatever Northpoint’s got that isn’t nailed down, kill their experts, all the while looking as dramatic as possible. Gotta give the gossfeeders something fun to watch, right? It’s a huge misdirect, we have to look like we’re trying so hard to spread Leviathan’s point that the corpses think we’ve got something to hide. A little extra prodding, they’ll go for each other’s throats.”

“I… I guess.” Nico nods. His stomach is even, he feels good, grounded. “Yeah. I can do that.” He wants to.

“What about while we get ready? The expo isn’t for another two weeks,” Alaska asks the panther, leaning back on a nearby wall. “What are you doing, more speeches?”

“Besides keeping this fucking thing together?” Ahab laughs. “I’m gonna try and start setting the Big Five on edge. Drop a few meaningless execs off of rooftops, leak a few trade secrets, that sort of thing.” For a second Nico’s confused, but then he remembers what Alaska told him before; Ahab used to be part of the corporate world, some kind of high-profile fixer. No doubt he knows how to make them squirm, at least a little. “Their in-fighting happens the same way our revolution does, a lot of small domino events leading to one singular cataclysm.”

“Right then,” Babs says. “But if we get caught before this even has a chance to get started, know I’m gonna hold you all fuckin’ responsible for trusting the bootlicker.”

“Fuck yourself Babs,” Alaska snaps, and she leaves. The wolf steps close to Nico, not quite touching, but almost. “I’m gonna flip into the net, lot of work to do, y’know?”

“Yeah, I get it.”

“Nice speech. Stay safe.” And then Nico’s alone with Ahab.

The panther smiles, walking across and putting one firm paw on Nico’s shoulder. “He’s right. That was a good speech, you’re a natural.”

“Thanks, I… was nervous.”

“That’s alright, everyone is the first time.” Ahab inhales deeply, blows out a breath. “Just give Alaska time, he’s difficult. I know. But he’s had a hard life, and if he’s being childish, it’s more about him than you.”

“I… uh, okay.” Nico nods, turning to leave. Mother will be wondering where he is, he needs to pick up her medication on the way home.

What will you do with her, after the great wave of change? Will you help Ahab police his new empire, and go home to dote on Mother?

“One other thing.” Nico freezes, feeling Ahab close behind. The panther is taller than him, but it’s more than just that. Ahab’s presence is massive, he fills a room. Nico can feel the pressure points of reality warping near him, his tether abilities like a colossal fist lying dormant. “Alaska told me you found your white whale in Luther’s Church. That’s good. I can see it, in your speech, your suggestions before.”

Nico turns, feeling a but coming.

“I understand hatred. And, I understand the idea of knowing something is wrong and feeling powerless to do anything about it. Leviathan isn’t about making martyrs though. That kind of anger doesn’t last, and I can tell you now that just killing Luther won’t solve anything.”

“You haven’t met him,” Nico replies softly. Is it him speaking, or Guilt Trip? Bit of both, probably, he still believes what he’s saying, the derm just helps him get it out. “You can’t feel how… how that Church is different. It’s not a corporation, even if it acts like one. Neodox is Luther. And it’s evil, it’s a drug that anyone can pay for to alleviate everything bad they feel about themselves. It takes away their guilt, and their anxieties. It’s nothing more than a societal pacifier, and that’s why the corpos love it so much.”

“Nico--”

“No,” Nico meets the big cat’s eyes. “You’ll never break through to the people in this city so long as he has his hooks dug in. The second they start to feel bad about their life, they can pay nineteen-ninety-five US to be told it’s all fine, to bury their heads in the sand. They’re leashed by belief and absolution, enslaved by those fucking subscriptions, and made eternally docile by all his faux-mystic traditions. It encourages vices, and people with flat-screen TVs and flashy cars don’t behead regimes, not as long as another model is coming out soon.” Ahab smirks, and Nico frowns. He feels so liberated, so free in this moment. Never before has he had a chance to actually say what he thinks. “You think it’s funny?”

“No, not at all.” The panther shakes his head, stepping back. “You’re right, of course. Just thinking that you’re starting to sound like a real revolutionary. When I told Alaska to find you, I hoped you could get us to Yuri, I never expected… this.”

Nico opens his mouth, then closes it. What is there to say?

“Maybe you’re right,” Ahab continues. “You probably are, and I respect this crusade you’re on. But this mission is about scaring the StrandTech Execs, and levering Northpoint’s weaknesses. We need to steal their toys, and kill their figureheads, all the while implicating ST. Luther isn’t a part of this, his death will just confuse the message. Be patient, in the end they’ll all swing. Understand?”

Nico bites his bottom lip. When did he get so angry? He feels his heart racing, and willed it to slow.

“I… understand, yeah.”

Vick passes beneath the ornate crystalline archway. The balcony is high, with luscious genetically-engineered plant life overflowing out of placid ponds and rock walls. A private botanical garden popular for dates, called High-Rise Eden.

Sipping her latte, Vick crosses a small wooden slat bridge, pretending to coo over the white and orange nishikigoi, watching the chemically-leashed birds swoop from branch to branch. She knows the reality, the contractor who built this place is a friend; if the birds go more than three hours without a whiff of a specific pollen built just for the gardens, they die. Same goes for the fish, the cacti, everything. People love to steal beautiful things, and the creators of Eden  wanted to make sure nobody could have what they did. Eventually, it will all wither and fade, no matter how much care is given. It’s by design. This place is as impermanent as it is exclusive, and that’s what makes it special to so many of them.

She spies her guest leaning against the rail in a far corner, tactfully shielded by some bamboo. Vick wastes no time, going up and leaning next to her. It’s all very trite and cliché  but if it works it works.

The woman is a whip-thin lion, braided strands of fur hanging off the top of her scalp. The lower half of her jaw is gold-plated machinery, and the parts of her face above the nose and eyes is pressed with an amber-tinted opaque sheet, letting the nosiest of individuals a hint of all the clockwork crammed into that skull. She’s wearing a black suit, and although she doesn’t appear to be armed, Vick has no doubt that her forearms and elbows contain a myriad of knives and swords. Psychonauts are basically walking armouries.

She lifts one matte black mechanical paw to her lips, inhaling the cigarette.

“How old fashioned,” Vick says. “Never took you for one so traditional.”

“Yuri always said my sentimentality made me more interesting.” The lion glances across, green eyes catching the overcast light. “Old bastard always was a fan of oxymorons.”

“How are you, Porsche?” Vick asks. Porsche Castillion shrugs, looking into the distance.

“Still on Northpoint’s payroll, if that’s what you’re asking. But these vengeance clauses are a bitch, can’t do jack shit nowadays.” She tosses the cigarette off the edge of the gardens, where the skyscraper winds steal it away. To Vick it feels more like littering than if she’d thrown it in the koi pond. “I told him a hundred times to take me with him to Canada. Fucking hell.”

“I’ve got some leads, thought you might want to know. Professional courtesy.”

Porsche snorts. “Look Vick, I like you, but do me the courtesy of not treating me like a moron.”

“You heard of Leviathan?”

“The latest fad? Only on feeds, seems like something that’ll pass soon enough.”

“I figured Northpoint’s favourite ninja would be a little more plugged in.”

“I don’t give a shit about social media. Most of it’s either a straight lie, or generated by some seventh-generation AI out of Pakistan. I have work to do.”

Vick pulls the plastic lid of her coffee off, swirling the last dregs of latte around so she has something to do with her paws. “Leviathan are claiming Kisaramoto’s death. Think I might have an in, too, dumb kid Northpoint seems keen on hiding. Might be nothing, who knows?”

“Got proof? Wannabe revolutionaries love stuff like that. Far as I can tell Yuri died by accident, wrong time, wrong place, old bastard always thought he was immortal. But… vengeance clause is only satisfied if I can prove it. So guess I’m spending the next year in Canada.”

“Slow down.” Vick tsks. “I’ve been going to their rallies, in secret. Something is happening, and soon, I don’t know what though.”

“The StrandTech Expo?” Porsche asks, looking back. She looks so bored. “Everyone has heard this rumour. I told Yuri’s replacement we should pull out, but he says if ST is confident in their security we can’t. You know how execs are, it’s all one big dick-measuring contest. Besides I doubt these Moby Dick weebs will even show up, if they do, not like they’ll have tickets, so let ‘em protest all they want.” She chuckles. “Oh, I did hear that Rextrom got shafted this year, sucks to be you.”

“Oh well, get ‘em next time.” Vick wishes Porsche was only slightly dumber, it’d make her a lot easier to manipulate. “I wouldn’t discount Leviathan so quickly. They’re picking up speed, go on any politically-left forum and even some anarcho-right ones, you’ll see that name plastered everywhere.”

But then you wouldn’t like her so much, huh?

“I’ll tell you this for free,” Vick says. She turns away from the ledge, upending her coffee cup and pouring the dredges into the koi pond to her side. The brown liquid splashes in the water, swirling and clouding as the lab-grown fish swim in to lap it up. “Lately these ‘wannabe revolutionaries’ have gained some kinda hard-on for the Neodox Church. Might be an in there for you.”

“Oh, I doubt these kids really did have anything to do with Yuri’s death,” Porsche replies. “I appreciate the tip-off, but don’t think it means I owe you anything. I know you don’t give a shit about this Leviathan thing, you just want Northpoint’s new patent like everyone else.”

Vick hesitates. How best to play this?

Porsche scoffs. “Don’t worry, I won’t make you bother lying, it’s embarrassing for us both, and it won’t be anywhere near that stupid expo anyway. But you? How ‘bout it, will you be there, honey?” Porsche pushes back, the conversation apparently drawing to a close.

Quickly, Vick pulls up her messages. One is from Ricky, been sitting there unread for the last twenty hours.

Please? Dad just doesn’t really get why it’s so cool, I know you know some of the guys there, maybe I could ask some questions? Pleeeease Mom?

“Think it’ll be safe?” Vick asks, trying to sound casual. The one thing she respects about Porsche is the fact she always gives it straight.

The lion shrugs. “You know how the Strand board is, more fucking paranoid than 90s soccer moms. There’ll be guards everywhere, these kids will get one look at the armaments and fuck right off. Worst case scenario, you have to deal with some heckling at the door. It won’t even be like the old days, everyone’s too scared to throw any fake blood after that PETA woman got gunned down outside of Fureverclear. Think you can see some nasty signs without flinching? You’ll be just fine doll.”

Vick nods. Ricky would give her a good excuse to be there. Maybe she can catch Luther too, see if there’s some sort of branch to extend to him. She needs a way to get closer to Cottonmouth, and Luther knows people at Northpoint. Could be a weakness.

She sends the reply: Okay, sure, book the tickets.

Ricky replies almost immediately.

“So you gonna give me this kid’s name or what?”

“It’s not much to go on, you probably already heard about it, but… Nico Mercier. He was on the trip out to Nova Scotia, he was there when Yuri died. Don’t know if they told you, it’s all hush-hush for some reason. Maybe embarrassment? He’s been kinda off the grid lately is all, Northpoint seem to want him kept out of it, might be something there.”

“I ain’t gonna pretty it up Vick, that’s not much to go on. And what do you want then, in exchange for this?”

“I need to get in touch with a fixer who works with Northpoint Execs.”

Porsche rolls her eyes. “I ain’t gonna give you anyone that helps you steal that. Y’should know me better than that. I might be a prideful bitch on a revenge warpath but I ain’t brain-dead enough to start selling out the ones holdin’ my leash. Know what happens when a company psychonaut goes rogue? They don’t.”

“Fine, fine.” Vick throws her paws up, silver fur flashing in the light. “Tell you what then, you track down this Nico kid, learn anything about Leviathan, you let me know. Fair?”

Porsche nods. “Fair enough. Poor kid, Nico’s a nice name.”

“Yeah,” Vick says. “Yeah it is.”