Kat pulled the letter close and examined it like it was a delicate puzzle box. She read each word and then slid it back over to Gunnar. ‘You want me to come with?’ she asked him, leaning back in her chair.

Gunnar shook his head and took the letter back. ‘Nah. It’s me. I’ll be more than fine.’

They were sitting in the Barrel, just the two of them, which was a rare occurrence. The sisters were still searching for the Gospel, but with the state of the city they were trying to maximise their time by splitting up. Kat was in the area so Gunnar wanted to discuss the note with her, since his other two closest friends were busy.

She bit into the toastie that Bill had cooked her and shrugged. ‘Fine or not, it’s better to take someone when doing something risky like this.’

‘I’ve worked alone most of my life. Hasn’t hurt me so far,’ Gunnar replied with a smirk. Kat rolled her eyes.

‘Alright, just don’t go pad silent,’ she sighed.

The two carried on with their meals. It was of course mostly synthetic foods. Fake cheese, fake bread and fake meat. Real food was something only wealthy dwellers and nobles had the pleasure of eating and even then it was for special occasions. There just weren’t many places for real farms and not many seeds or animals left to grow and breed respectively.

Most food in the undercity came from the flesh farms far below even the dwellers level. One of the few jobs available to desperate nobodies, aside from mercenary work. It was dangerous and from what Gunnar had heard, it messed with your head. The meat they were growing wasn’t just random synth meat, it was a series of living flesh blocks. If the actual farming equipment and location wasn’t dangerous enough, with rusted old tunnels and walkways, occasionally the flesh would fall on the farmers, often killing them with the sheer mass of each block.

If you were lucky you would earn a promotion to one of the other synth farms, as they were all run by the same groups. Synthetic vegetables and fruit were far less dangerous, though the chemicals could also cause permanent damage to your nervous system or brain. There was a significant difference in an old man’s cognitive functions after working with the synth chemicals for forty years.

Kat was halfway through a bite of her sandwich when her pad started to ring. She hurried her meal down and answered the call, almost choking on it. ‘Nat?’ she answered. After, a pause as she listened. Her expression shifted from curious to excited, her eyes widening.

She performed a small jump in her chair as a sign of excitement. ‘Really? Who was it?’ She grew silent again. ‘One of Joy’s old schoolmates? Wizard! I’ll see you shortly.’

The tall mercenary dropped her pad back into her pocket and turned to Gunnar. ‘I gotta go Gunnar. Nati’s got a really good lead on the Gospels church.’ She cast a wide smile.

So it was a church specifically? Honestly speaking it was hard to tell with cults like that. One uses a temple, another might just have a shrine or two. ’Do you need me to come with?’ he asked.

Kat couldn’t help but smirk back, trying to hide a full smile. ‘You’ve got your job, we’ve got ours.’ She grabbed her coat and left a few chips on the table to pay for her share of the food. ‘Keep your pad handy, I’ll ring you if we get something.’

Gunnar waved her off, watching her leave the Barrel with what was close to a skip. Kat had to be one of the most optimistic people living in this city. He honestly wasn’t sure where she got it from. Maybe it was natural compensation after living with her often pessimistic sister for so long.

He finished his food and dropped the money off at the bar, wishing Bill a good day as he left. Bill still found himself struggling a little, but there were another few new faces at the Barrel, it was around the time of year that the wannabe new mercs popped up, so he had to keep on a strong front. The poor man would just go through it again soon, this time next year most of those new faces will be deep in the ground. As he left the barrel, Gunnar couldn’t help but feel something was off, more than just the fact he was about to meet with Puppet, it was almost as if he was being watched.

Which he was. By a drone high up in the sky, shortly below the top layer of the city. On the other end of its monitor sat two men in the back of a luxurious van, watching a screen showing Gunnar. Another screen next to it broadcasted the Glass Park and half a dozen others at random points in the sector. ‘So. What do you think?’ Walther asked his servant.

Oswin sat sat down next to his employer, with his permission of course. They had been watching Gunnar Vaen since he had messaged them about the situation at the infamous Park. His master had a hard time trusting people, especially dwellers. ‘I think what I’ve always thought m’lord. He’s crass, violent and disrespectful.’

Walther smiled and pointed his finger at the screen that currently followed the mercenary. ‘But trustworthy,’ he replied.

There was nothing that Oswin hated more than arguing with his lord, unfortunately, he just could not see the merit in this man he was so interested in. ‘I’m sorry lord, I just see a narcissistic mercenary.’

His lord paused and shook his head, in a very disappointed manner. ‘We’re running out of time Oswin,’ he looked up at his servant. ‘We’ve already confirmed the truth of what Mr Vaen said. We’ve checked him out back to front and top to bottom. Yes his childhood is left in the dark and yes, when he requested a breaker I feared, but… But this may be the path we must take. He needs us and we need him.’

With the city in the state it was, they certainly needed someone able bodied in the field. It looked set to rip itself apart before they could fix it. Lord Walther had made a plan of meticulous detail, involving individuals, organisations, locations and situations that were needed to reform the city. There was a desire to change the Ring itself, but such a thing was a flaccid dream in the face of the nobility. They would struggle enough just with Juniper City.

’We’ve stayed silent enough for quite long enough. We’ve stayed… I’ve stayed a coward for far too long. I’ll make the final decision after Mr Vaen returns from his meeting with whoever wrote that note,’ Walther sighed.

They both had a good idea of who it was, as they were sure Gunnar Vaen did as well. That was exactly why they were waiting though, it would become the final test. The mercenary once spoke of listening to the Sinmans offer, they had to make sure that it was just a threat and nothing more.

The drone continued to survey the man in question. Watching him through several winding streets. Past the Glass Park, which was now surrounded by militia and roadblocks. Past a few more streets and well into a neighbourhood that seemed dodgy even by dweller standards.

Gunnar arrived at the location that had been written. A dark abandoned alley that led straight to the northern wall. It was an area inhabited only by what Gunnar considered the lowest of the low. Broken addicts and the pettiest of criminals. The area had a name, though it did not suit it. It was known as Rotian Fields, as if in mockery, there was nothing close to a field here, even for the lower city it was devoid of nature. Not even the militia bothered with places like this, Gunnar only knew about it as it wasn’t too far from his home and he had taken a few jobs in the area. So the question was, what made Puppet so interested?

He approached the alley slowly, creeping past a few sleeping bodies near a burning barrel. There were vials all around them, cracked and stinking of rot. There was a half chance at least one of them was dead. Gunnar pulled his weapon out, crawling into the dark. He turned a torch on that sat against his torso, it would alert whoever lived inside the alley, including Puppet, but not being able to see at all would be the bigger problem.

After a few dead ends and snapping corners, the mercenary came across the first sign of a certain mechanical man. A corpse, brutalised beyond identification. The usual telltale chart of sins, with wrath circled in thick strings of blood. Maybe the victim was a murderer? Puppet’s methods didn’t give much in detail away.

Through the darkness Gunnar heard a scream. Followed by loud terrified pleading, begging. He proceeded on towards it until he saw a flickering light, it was behind a tall fence and all Gunnar could see was the intimidating shadow on the far wall opposite it. Huge, skeletal and holding a smaller human shape with a long blade brought to their neck. A few more screams of protest rang out, before the spear pierced through their torso, a raspy gasp, a gurgle, then silence as a few splatters of blood flew over the fence.

Despite his fear, Gunnar picked up his pace, calming his shaking arms. He darted around the corner, grasping the fence to slow himself down, whipping his gun around with him. It was a wide dead end. A bonfire crackling in the centre, no windows besides one boarded up on the far wall. Next to the fire lay the corpse of a man, blood pooling around him. On the other side of the fire was another man, cradling his head and rocking, tears streaming down his chin and neck as he pleaded forgiveness. Puppet, however, was nowhere to be seen.

‘Hello, Mercenary.’ A familiar voice called out to him, from right behind his head. Gunnar spun around and trained his gun on the hulking form behind him, for all the good it would do. He felt his legs involuntarily shake and start moving backwards. It was like they were controlled by someone else. Puppet tilted their head then slithered around Gunnar, they moved unnaturally, far faster than it looked and far quieter than they should have been.

The large beast pulled a skeletal finger from their ragged cloak and dipped it in the corpse’s blood. The survivor next to them started protesting between their tears and grabbed onto Puppets arm trying to pull them away. The man was effortlessly tossed to the side. As the Sinman began to write with the sickening wet sound of blood hitting concrete filled the alleyway, combined with the sounds of a broken man. Puppet turned their head ever so slightly. ‘I’m impressed you found me, Mercenary.’

Gunnar narrowed his eyes. ‘I got your letter,’ he replied, trying to hide the shake of his voice.

Puppet paused for a moment, blood dripping from their raised fingers. ‘I did not send a letter,’ they stated, dipping their finger back in the sanguine liquid.

The mercenary’s heart skipped a beat, so far, at the very least, Puppet had not lied to him, right? ‘What? Then who else could have possibly sent it?’

‘Flattered as I may be, your vision has become narrowed, mercenary. This city has always been full of monsters.’ Puppets voice stayed steady, if they knew the perpetrator they weren’t letting it show.

Despite his confusion and curiosity, Gunnar couldn’t help latch on to something the beast had just said. ‘Do you consider yourself a monster too then?’ he asked the being before him.

Once again Puppet paused, though this time, they turned their head to look the mercenary in the eye. ‘Do you not?’ Gunnar was thrown off by their question, unable to articulate an response. ‘I am an abomination. I am a murderer. I am a cruel and soulless beast and my strings are cut. When my great task is complete, there will be one last life to take.’

Gunnar lowered his gun, unable to hide his continued surprise. ‘You’re. . . going to kill yourself?’

‘Yes,’ Puppet replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. ‘I am no hypocrite. The perfect world can’t sustain imperfect beings.’

The fight escaped Gunnar, evaporating like condensation. Could he do the same? Make such a conviction? Yes, he risked his life every time he took a new job, but risking your life to keep living was one thing. Risking your life then ending it for the sake of the whole of humanity? No matter how misguided or wrong Puppet may be, could he himself ever be so selfless?

Puppet finished writing as Gunnar’s mind fought against him. Completely ignoring Gunnar’s turmoil, the great metal man reached their free hand towards the survivor that still lay curled up next to the fire. Gunnar lifted his gun back up with a keen reflex. ‘DON’T!’ he cried an order to the bloodsoaked beast.

Despite the mercenaries’ inability to injure them, Puppet still retracted their arm. ‘Don’t worry, soft hearted mercenary. This one is free to go.’

Gunnar pointed his weapon at the mangled corpse of the other man. ‘And what of that one?’

Puppet looked over with disdain. ‘Greed,’ they replied.

Something about the reply sent a shiver down his spine, even so, he had to know. What level of wrongdoing was a sin to Puppet? ‘What exactly is it that he did?’

There were a few seconds of silence whilst Puppet deliberated on whether to regale the tale to his conversation partner. ‘I was making my nightly patrol through these streets when I witnessed these brothers attempting to steal the wealth of another poor soul. My claws were sharp and my tail pointed, ready to strike at them for the sin of greed, but, to my surprise, they felt remorse almost immediately. They gave the money back upon realising how starved their victim was. I decided that there was hope for them, and so I offered them a choice. A simple choice. One could live if they sacrificed the other.’

‘So, what. This guy sacrificed his brother so you let him go?’ Gunnar motioned towards the survivor, cowering away from them.

Puppet pushed him away, ushering him to the darkness. ‘No. His brother chose to sacrifice him, with very little hesitation. So, I punctured his lungs and tore him apart.’ The hulking metal beast seemed to almost sag as he looked down at the corpse, he looked up to the sky, blocked by the city above. ‘I had hoped that both would refuse to sacrifice the other. Yet, it was not a surprise, just a disappointment.’ Puppet made a sound that almost read as a sigh, metallic whining within their mouth and chest. ‘How cruel can humanity be, that brother would burn brother to feel one more hour of warmth.’

The mercenary sneered. Cruel? Ain’t nothing cruel about surviving. Selfish maybe, but not cruel. You’re the bastard that forced that choice on them.’

Said bastard turned with speed and approached Gunnar. He backed up until he hit the wall and tried to square up. It wasn’t often he felt small. ‘I must say. I didn’t expect a lesson in morality from a mercenary.’ The beast stood a few feet from Gunnar, towering over him.

Gunnar let out an involuntary gulp. ‘A uh, mercenary with a clean record. By your own volition,’ he chuckled, but couldn’t hide the shake in his voice.

The air was tense, even as Puppet backed up a few inches. The pounding of Gunnar’s heart could wake the dead. ‘Show me the letter you mentioned,’ Puppet demanded. Gunnar didn’t feel like saying no would grant him a long life, so he complied, handing the paper to Puppet.

Puppet walked over to the crackling fire, which was half circled by the pool of blood. They used the light of the fire to illuminate the page. ‘Tomorrow night,’ Puppet muttered. They tossed the paper back to Gunnar. ‘Mercenary. Have you ever thought about the fact that humanity uses terms like “night” and “day” even though neither exists on this broken rock?’

‘Wha-?’ Before he could finish his question, before he could even truly begin it, Puppet had already disappeared into the shadows.

Gunnar fell back against the wall, dropping his gun. He looked at his hands which still shook, he could feel his heart which felt on the edge of exploding. The mercenary gently hit his head against the wall behind him. Cursing himself out for coming to this meeting alone. Being near Puppet was a risk, he had felt overconfident thanks to the beast’s treatment of him thus far, but something about Puppets reactions tonight told him that he was pushing that line. He wasn’t perfect, anyone that knew his records knew that, he just happened to avoid the level that warranted a death sentence.

It was ridiculous. What he was doing was ridiculous. He could easily ignore Puppet. Leave it to someone more experienced. Throw the problem at the militias or the nobles, so why was he being so stubborn about getting involved? The pay from Walther? Pure curiosity? He had the shrapnel to live free and happy for a few years now and curiosity? He had heard more than he needed to from the Sinman themself. No. He just couldn’t leave it alone. At this point, there was no way Aethel hadn’t told chief Finch something about Puppet, there was no way some nosey nobles hadn’t caught wind. They just weren’t doing a thing about it, or couldn’t. So was it up to him and the sisters? With a little help from Walther, it wasn’t impossible. It was just stupid.

The mercenary looked at his gun and threw it back into his now blood spattered jacket. A fresh fit already ruined, but who’s to blame but the moron that wore it to meet a psychopath? His eyes drifted to the gun now sat in its holster, it worked, but it was budget. That was something else Gunnar was in need of, that yes, Walther might be able to supply, but that he wanted to buy himself. Didn’t need to throw himself any deeper into a noble’s pocket.

He fished out his pad and dialled Kat’s number as they had spoken not half a day ago. It buzzed for a few seconds before he received a cheerful greeting. ‘Gunnar! I take it Puppet didn’t kill you?’

A stifled laugh forced its way from Gunnar’s tired body. ‘Yeah. But I get the feeling next time I see him he’ll do me the courtesy, but this city can’t be deprived of Gunnar Vaen just yet. Be a travesty for the masses to lose this face.’

There was giggling on the other side of the call then the sound of a light struggle. ‘Give me that!’ he heard another voice snap. ‘The fuck you want?’ Nati asked politely.

‘A new gun,’ Gunnar replied between slow breaths.

He could hear the smug grin through his pads audio. ‘Say no more. Meet us at Olives.’ Nati hung up despite the protests Gunnar could hear on the other end. Olive was the best weapons dealer in sector fourteen and probably a good chunk of the whole city too. He had never had an in with her, but the sisters did.

Kat and Nati were badgering Gunnar constantly to visit Olive with them back before they grew apart. For some reason it seemed like she wanted to meet him, though judging by Natis’ shit eating grin every time it wasn’t for good reason.

Gunnar let his hand fall from his ear to the ground. Puddles around him reflected the light of the fire, others filled with the blood of the corpse. The crying man now weeped over the corpse of his fallen brother. Gunnar watched on, unable to see the evil that Puppet spoke of.