"What is the prognosis?" a woman asked.

The man's screechy voice sounded. "Asset is secure. But—we—are—test—inconclusive."

"Inconclusive? Her blood?"

"Yes." The message continued to chip in and out. "Something's—inside it. It's inconclusive. But it's her. Of that I'm sure. I—know it."

Ian's body trembled as reality rushed back in. Everything ached.

"What about—who kidnapped her?"

"Her kidnapper?" the sultry voice drawled. A woman glanced back at Ian then turned to the large screen again. "I suppose that asset is secure as well. How long before we can extract her?"

"It's not so easy." The man on the screen faded then returned yet again. "She's in shock. Won't—respond—her name. No answer—or eye contact."

"No eye contact?" The woman stepped toward the projection. "Is she damaged? Ill? The protocols—"

"Protocols—accounted—over five hundred—traced memories estimated. Protocols are in play."

"Whatever's happening to the System we must stop it. I wanted her to have a warm welcome but as of now, we need the System to stop what it's doing. We can't function like this. Get the protocols at all cost."

"Trish. I did not hear—that. May we re—move her from the medic—section?"

Body vibrating, Ian sat up. He assessed the room as best he could but the woman in the center of it drew his total focus.

She stood in quiet contemplation then looked up at the screen. Her pleated black dress was as neat as her voice was stern. "Are you sure it's her?"

"Very. Certain."

Making out the blurry man on the screen was a chore in and of itself.

"How?"

Despite the distance, Ian raised his right eyebrow when the man revealed his bloodied neck.

"She almost c—ut my throat. With my own blade. O—women know—I keep my—weapons—are—women I fuck."

With a disgusted groan, she answered, "That is true. If that's the criteria, then I suppose she'd know where all of them are."

"Locked herself—a room. Permission to extract."

"Hold that order."

"Pat—Trisha she's your sister—"

"Well, so is the other one. It's her own fault for getting stuck. Retrieve the protocols at all cost."

"What? Sorry. You b—oke up. Did you say—tract protocols?"

For a long while, the woman said nothing. Finally, she looked up at the flickering screen and repeated, "Reap her of every protocol. Confirm your orders."

Nothing happened for a long while.

"Confirm," she demanded.

It came out in a reluctant grumble, "No. I—won't. We'll—get her under—control first. The—blood sample was—indirect from the floor. Nobody—can get close to her but—I'll get a proper sample. Then—we extract her."

Body trembling, the woman brushed her shoulder-length auburn hair back and repeated, "Reap the protocols—"

"Say that again," the man dared her, "and—I'll forget our families—have a marriage pact."

The flickering of the screen slowed and remained steady as they stared one another down.

"I know you still care for her, Husband—"

"I care—about the fact—that a—average—clutch has three hundred protocols. She's got five—why?"

Letting out a sigh, she shook her head. "It's a glitch. Your machines are faulty."

"The System is flawless."

As interesting as Ian found the back and forth, he tried to take in his surroundings. It was an open room. He might not have given it a second glance if not for the familiar face of a man sitting on the other side of the room—Carlos.

Ian met Carlos's green eyes but the man shook his head, warning him to shut up.

"We'll make another attempt," the man on the screen insisted. "And get a proper sample."

Pat—or Trisha, or Patricia, whatever her name was, put her hands on her hips and asked, "You risk drawing undue attention to yourselves."

"She requested me by name," the man insisted. "I'm not letting that go."

"And if she can't wake up? And you can't reason with her?" she challenged.

For a long while, the man said nothing. Finally, he touched his reddened neck and told her, "I was married to this life before I was married to you, Wife. I'll bring her back or I'll bring you her brain, but you'll get what you want."

When the image faded, the woman smiled in satisfaction. "Bring it up while we have this bout of stability."

The screen flickered on to reveal Timothy's terrified expression. "Let me just start by saying, I apologize. I notified you as soon as I saw that picture. You can check—"

"Shut up."

Timothy shrunk down, his haunted expression looking more pale.

It was when the woman turned to address Carlos that she noticed Ian's gaze.

"Ah, you are awake," she said. "Hello. So you are Tellman. My, my. You are an interesting sort. And terribly difficult to get an audience with."

"And you?" Ian challenged. "Another O something?"

"Something like that." She turned her attention to Carlos. "But him...."

The contempt in her voice had Ian swallowing hard.

Ian tried to make sense of them and the situation.

"My name is Patricia," she told Ian. "And imagine my surprise when I found out that after I sent my sister to retrieve you.... She came back and told me that Mr. Carlos said you were as good as dead and of no danger."

Carlos's breathing turned ragged. "It was—he was. I hadn't known. We did everything we were supposed to."

Debt collectors. Rinn was right. Somewhere in Ian's mind he came to the conclusion that this was something else. It wasn't. It was a debt. He owed these people something—Carlos owed these people something.

Ian's world spun. He felt like he was in a free fall. What else had Rinn been right about? Carlos? Ian worked with Carlos four years straight without an issue. Never in a million years would he have considered the man capable of something like this—he was harmless.

Ian focused on the floor. Inside, he felt his guts fester and rot. Each second ached as if what remained of him was eating him from the inside out.

Carlos.

Ian blinked at him. The inhospitable look on his face made Ian come to one conclusion.

"You...you turned me over? They were in that hallway long before I let that picture go public."

"This is not what it looks like and you're best to keep your mouth shut." Carlos then told Patricia, "This is a misunderstanding. You hired us for a job we're more than capable of. Tell messed it up, putting my neck on the chopping block. You think after I moved every rock and stone in the Colony to get him this gig that I'd just let a huge payday like this sit? I'd have sold that info ages ago. I didn't know! I'm a Topsider. I didn't know!"

His words fell on deaf ears. Six men came out of nowhere and dragged them to stand. Ian and Carlos didn't get far, only two tunnels over where they were thrown.

Patricia wasn't there, but Carlos was. Rarely did anything good happen in tunnels—especially tunnels with such dim lighting. Ian'd tasted his mortality for an entire week. Today, this very moment, all his fears manifested and came rushing at him.

Eyes wild, Carlos turned on him. "You—this is the last time I put my reputation on the line for you. You asked for this—big money, right? So I'm not gonna apologize for having to turn on you. If I didn't, it'd mean we're in cahoots and that means my entire crew takes a fall."

Ian felt cold. He understood the man's position. Deep down he couldn't say he wouldn't do the same when pressed.

Ian shook his head. "How do I make this all go away?"

"Fulfill the job," Carlos begged. "For both our sakes. All they want is the fucking job done."

Reluctant, Ian wouldn't meet his gaze. That job was the one thing he couldn't do. Ian didn't know much and he rarely let his ignorance show. He hadn't been sure until now but he had to make certain. "Do you realize they were trying to get me to rob an Elemental? Did you know that from the start?" The way Carlos quieted meant he had. "I ain't robbing no E."

Carlos sat back, watching him. "I knew you wouldn't make it far with that bleeding heart. All your convictions aren't worth spit. You owe me this. You'll remedy your fuckup? Right?"

Ian shook his head. "I'll finish my contract. Six more robberies. So long as they ain't Elementals."

"No. No more robberies. You weren't there for a robbery, Tell. If you'd just listen for once. We'd found what we wanted. It was just a retrieval of info."

"Retrieval?" At the silence that followed, Ian asked again. "No robbery?"

Carlos nodded.

As of now, the receptors' charges were low but they wouldn't stay that way forever. Ian might manage this—with Carlos's help, he could perhaps get Rinn out of that medical section. He'd need help. Getting on good terms was in both their best interests.

"Fine."

Footsteps closed in and Carlos used the wall for support as he pushed himself to stand. Patricia closed in and Carlos looked away from her and asked Ian, "Do you like babies?"

The strange question made Ian cautious; Carlos always asked him stupid, random, strange questions, but this was even stupider than usual.

"Babies?" he asked.

"Yeah. I was just wondering if you've ever seen a baby E."

Ian hadn't, but as was his way, he didn't like to show his lack of knowledge, so he shared what information he could. "You looking to steal a bit of gold?"

Carlos's eyes widened, he looked impressed. "Shit, you do know what you're talking about. We can get the hell outta this."

Ian staggered to his feet. "Rather than tell you about my hopes and dreams for the future, my favorite color and so on, how about we stick to business? What can I do to make this all go away?"

Carlos glanced from the incoming people to Ian again. "You ever held one?"

"A baby E?" Ian snorted out a laugh. "From where? Female E's are rare enough. Only an idiot would bother a pregnant one; their power level is the highest when with child. Why?"

The man shook his head. "Just testing to see if you're full of imp-shit or if you really do know about E's."

"What—?"

"Gentlemen," Patricia said upon finally reaching them. "This unfortunate situation we've found ourselves in need not escalate."

"It's all right," Carlos insisted. "He'll do it. He's got your information. Everything you need to know about baby Elementals."

All eyes zeroed in on Ian and he swore under his breath. "Son-of-a-bitch," he muttered.

They waited but he looked from Carlos's terrified green eyes to Patricia's cold brown ones and came to a conclusion.

"I help you idiots and Met's taking my g'damn head off by morning."

Patricia's eyes narrowed. "He—"

"He definitely will know." At their silence, Ian relented. Helping Rinn was an impossibility. At this rate, if he brought up her name, they might realize she was just some poor nobody stuck with a convincing face. Maybe...maybe she could last a bit longer on her own. Whatever she took from that original AE might keep her alive. All she had to do was keep quiet. Rinn was resourceful. In this moment, Ian realized his hubris. He couldn't help Rinn—his sort of help never did her any good. Best if they took their chances separately. "Whatever you're gonna do to me, make it quick."

Carlos let out a muffled sound but Patricia forced a smile. "Oh, don't be so dramatic. I'm not going to kill you. I'm a fair crook."

Ian'd heard similar enough words before. "Let me guess, a deathmatch."

"My, you have fucked up often enough to know the procedure." She told Carlos, "You can go. And you'll let everyone know we did this fair and square. Correct?"

Nodding hurriedly, Carlos answered, "Of course. But what about—?"

"It's all right, boss." Ian met his gaze and shook his head. He'd brought them here. This was all his doing. Carlos was small time. He might have made a real name for himself if he had better worker than the likes of Ian. "It's all right," Ian repeated.

Hesitant, Carlos inched away. He still glanced back at Ian now and then before he finally turned and ran.

Patricia, flanked by six large men, didn't bother watching Carlos's retreat. Instead, she set her eyes on Ian. "As for you, Mr. Tellman—"

"Whatever match it is, I accept," Ian interrupted.

"But you haven't even seen your opponent yet," Patricia teased.

"Don't bother with the bullshit. Ain't my first fight to the death, won't be my last. When do we start?"

"Oh, darling," Patricia mused, nodding down toward the dark end of the tunnel. "It's already begun."