"Got what you wanted. Hope it's all worth it 'cause their drug harnesses tend to detonate post-mortem or a while after getting captured." Virgil entered the clinic bearing his trophy—a limp Adrenomancer tossed over one shoulder. Edith craned her head over the room's edge to eye the captured Adrenomancer. She appeared distracted—as if she wasn't entirely there.

Virgil didn't press the issue. He dumped the fallen Hyperion unceremoniously on a gurney.

Edith strode towards him—fiddling with some equipment as she moved. He caught a glimpse of a set of scanners and medical tools. Whatever. Edith could play her little science experiment. He'd take the opportunity to rest. Combat was taxing work.

"Sure," she said noncommittally.

Virgil didn't answer—the duo's usual pattern. A give-and-take. The back-and-forth worked for them—mechanistic and methodical. A business relationship—with some fringe benefits. Nothing more. Virgil preferred his "benefits" over Edith's aloofness—she could be cold and clinical. Then again—so was he. It was fine. Mutually beneficial.

"Guess I'll leave you to your business," Virgil said. "Shoot me a message when you're done. We're done for now. Gotta prepare for the next attack. Figure out what the hell Salvatore's playin' at." He turned to leave.

"Wait," Edith halted his departure.

Virgil stopped in his tracks.

"What?" he responded. "You need somethin' else?"

"I heard you had one of your 'talks' with Fii again," Edith confronted, crossing her arms. "About killing."

Virgil wasn't expecting a topic change. She wanted to discuss this—now? Of all the inconvenient timing—this took the cake.

He put aside his annoyance. A quick word and he'd be outta here. "Yeah. About killin'. No use keepin' that from the kid. She can't afford to be soft anymore. Not in this line of work. Too many opportunists lookin' to exploit a weakness. Gotta adapt. Evolve. And for that, you gotta go hard or go home."

Virgil studied Edith's scowling face—hmph. He didn't sign up for relationship advice. "Thought you'd get where I'm comin' from," he hinted pointedly. "Don't need to explain."

Edith scoffed. "Just because we don't practice soft doesn't mean we have to be callous. That girl's out there getting torn up. In case you missed her injuries from her last fight." Virgil turned away to leave. "Look—I'm just saying...you don't need to be an asshat. Quinn doesn't like your tough-guy act. I don't blame him either."

"Who the hell's side are you on?" Virgil grunted.

"Fii's. Look. I get your motives—tough love, and all that. I'm more on your side on this one," Edith relented. "You're right. Fii does need to step things up—otherwise she's gonna be roadkill." Virgil caught her faint smirk. "Still—don't need to be a dick about it, right? Give her a few words of encouragement. Don't need to give her an ultimatum to change. The girl already feels terrible enough."

"Says you. Your bedside manners aren't exactly what I'd call comforting. The kid respects me. Not you," Virgil argued. "Might as well put my two cents in now. Beat that into her before she's six feet under." He gestured to the motionless body behind them. "Maybe then she'd wise up."

"Hmph. Well. It's still on your conscience when the girl inevitably breaks down. You sure you'll sleep alright? Going to bed knowing your words send her down a spiral?" Edith retorted. She rubbed her temples. "Never mind. It's late. You have the right to do whatever you want. We all have the right to say what we want." She waved dismissively. "Shoo."

Virgil decided to take his leave—better not to continue this pointless squabble. Their conversation wouldn't accomplish anything productive. Besides—he wanted a quiet, relaxing night—not another useless discussion. Virgil closed the clinic door and headed in the direction of the Neon Alley. Time for a well-deserved break. He could use the brief reprieve after today's fight.

---

Outside the clinic, he spotted Kenzo emerging from an alleyway, playing with his hair.

Virgil sidestepped the man and proceeded without acknowledging his presence. He didn't have the patience or energy to engage in small talk with Kenzo—he needed his shut-eye. The previous confrontation had depleted his reserves.

"Oi, Virgil!" Kenzo caught his shoulder and spun him around. Virgil ripped himself out of Kenzo's grip. Dammit. So much for avoiding Kenzo's useless babbling.

"What do you want?" Virgil demanded. He folded his arms—challenging Kenzo to engage.

"I heard about what happened at the Rust Market a couple of days ago," Kenzo responded. "Did that Salvatore guy send in more Adrenomancers?"

"Yeah. Axion took on five of 'em. Ended in a draw when it should have been a total wipeout. The girl's still holdin' herself back. Now's not the time for that." Virgil tilted his head in the clinic's direction. "I hunted two of 'em down. Killed one and brought the other one over for Edith. She probably wants to figure out how Salvatore's serum works." He snorted. "Let's hope she doesn't create any new weapons with its secrets."

Kenzo raised his eyebrows. "Whoa. Sounds serious." He eyed the clinic warily. "Edith's experimenting with Salvatore's serums? Isn't that...kinda dangerous?"

"Beats me. Far as I care—that's not my problem. Just a heads-up," Virgil replied curtly. "Anythin' else? Otherwise—leave. I need to get a breather."

Kenzo cleared his throat. "Yeah. I actually needed to ask a question—a bit random. Maybe it can wait till later when you're in a better mood, but..."

"Make it quick." Virgil tamped down the rising urge to lash out at Kenzo's self-imposed reservations.

"Sure," Kenzo acquiesced. "I'm gonna be helping a friend out, sometime soon. They're involved in a gang war...against the Echo Syndicate."

Virgil's gaze hardened. Kenzo didn't need to go into detail. He already had a fair guess. "And who is this...friend? What exactly do they need help with? You plan on starting trouble, Kenzo?"

"It's...kinda complicated. Look. We got a whole history together—trust me when I say it's difficult to explain," Kenzo said sheepishly. "Anyway—just a heads-up in case things get heated—and trust me—there'll be plenty of fire. My friend...kinda did something they shouldn't have...and I need to fix a problem. Y'know what I mean?"

Virgil pinched the bridge of his nose. Great. Kenzo didn't answer his damn question. How reliable. He sighed. "Just spill it already." He locked eyes with Kenzo. "Remember—I'll shoot you for this. In case you forget—I hate bullshitting and even bigger liars."

Kenzo's palms shot upwards in mock surrender. "Hey—look. It's a bit personal and kinda complicated, all right?" He brushed the back of his head and averted eye contact. "Don't worry. After this, I'll help you dismantle Salvatore's drug facility—no questions asked. Alright? All you need to know is—my friend is in a spot of trouble and I gotta help. Just don't get involved. Okay? This is my problem—not yours."

"Right." Virgil couldn't help but find the situation suspicious. He raised an eyebrow. "Anything else? I'm giving you time to speak—make sure to make your story airtight."

Kenzo shifted uneasily. He stuck his hands in his pockets. "This is all I'm willing to divulge for now. Oh—tell Axion not to get involved either. Though, I'm sure she has her hands full with those Adrenomancers..." His eyes flickered momentarily towards Edith's clinic.

"Sure." Virgil jabbed an index finger into Kenzo's chest. "You know better than to screw us over. Else...there will be consequences. The girl's taken a shine to you, Kenzo. She seems to think you're a good person. I won't say otherwise unless you prove me wrong. We clear?"

"Crystal clear." Kenzo flashed a half-smile. "Relax. I don't plan on backstabbing my allies." He shifted the headphones on his neck. "This ain't the metropolis. There's honor here. An understanding—respect."

Kenzo clapped his hand on Virgil's shoulder. "Get yourself a drink—get something good. We'll all need some if we're gonna put the hurt on Salvatore. Later, man." He pivoted on his heel and strode off.

Virgil watched Kenzo leave until his outline vanished into the alleyways.

Hmm.

He cracked a small smile. Kenzo always surprised him. Perhaps that was why he stuck around.

He'd let him pass today. 

After all—his gut feeling told him that Kenzo meant well. Virgil trusted his gut. It had seldom deceived him.

---

Mirage watched "Backfire" leave the premises—heading in the direction of the Neon Alley. Her cloaking device deconstructed—transitioning her into visibility as she leaned against the clinic's back alley. She appeared absorbed in deep thought—leaning on her rakishly tilted rapier.

So...this was the place where her new target resided? Didn't seem too conspicuous. Plain, dingy, and nondescript. A forgettable place amongst an equally unmemorable landscape.

Mirage had to sacrifice two of her colleagues for the info. It was a bit pricey for her liking, but it was the quickest way to locate Edith Weiss. This mission was specifically tasked for her—with its specific constraints. And that meant cutting corners when necessary. Salvatore allowed it. He wanted the woman captured at all costs.

This "Edith" person. Who the hell was she? This unremarkable backstreet physician must be an important part of Salvatore's scheme. Was she involved with Axion as well? Whatever the case, her capture was Mirage's job now. Time to get to work.

She activated her cloaking device. She smirked as her form faded away.

An incredible little device. One of a kind. Salvatore really splashed out to obtain it. Still—he never shied away from money—especially when he believed it'd benefit his business ventures. Now that Mirage possessed it, she had to admit—it certainly upped her gameplay.

Mirage approached the entrance of the clinic with the same grace as a prowling cat—a graceful silhouette wavering through the air. The sliding door parted with a mechanical whir and a small whoosh of air. The faux-plastic doors and metal panels peeled to either side to grant Mirage entry. A chiming sound chimed as she slipped through the entryway—but the few nurses or patients scattered throughout paid her no heed. None were able to track her movements, and all of the equipment inside registered her invisible presence as a glitching static mess.

Once inside, Mirage strode carefully around the scattered crowd and passed through the primary clinic halls. She perused her surroundings carefully.

Unbelievable. This facility...was inefficient. So cluttered and lacking organization—all signs pointing to incompetence. Any clandestine agent would tear this place apart. All that occupied the hallway were busy nurses, disheveled and overwhelmed individuals seeking a quick remedy for a fever or a scraped knee. It was pitiful.

Back in the metropolis—medical centers conducted operations much more efficiently. Hospitals were mostly automated, allowing them to tackle every health-related need without the need for human interference. She wasn't surprised—backwater zones had technology and concepts well out-of-date and useless. The people who resided here were lucky if they were familiar with basic hygiene. It was truly unfortunate—even sad—that so many individuals existed in these depraved conditions.

As Mirage traversed the congested hallways of the primary clinic area—she eventually entered a single room. Inside sat the prize she sought—the prize Salvatore was after. There—Edith Weiss—hard at work, back turned and preoccupied, tinkering with the unconscious Blitz's Adrenomancer harness. Her entire attention appeared devoted to the Adrenomancer before her.

Mirage watched as Edith crouched and played with a needle attached to Blitz's right forearm. Occasionally, the syringe would pump liquid in—sometimes drawing a small amount of blood or fluid into a test tube.

Strange.

Salvatore had designed a few countermeasures around those harnesses in case someone tried to hijack them or repurpose the materials within—yet the doctor was able to fiddle with Blitz's harness without resistance. How?

Was this the reason why Salvatore wanted her? No. It couldn't be just that. His thoughts and aspirations were more nuanced and complex—more layered.

Still—watching the doctor's adept hands fiddling with the various parts of Blitz's drug harness confirmed this Edith woman held the expertise needed. Was she a mastermind on Salvatore's level? A rival? The possibility was high. And that meant Salvatore planned on utilizing her to his advantage.

Mirage scouted the surroundings—eyes gliding over the disheveled desk. Spread on its surface lay an assortment of data files, medical data chips, and computers. Everything on it appeared locked with a digital seal. Irrelevant. Not important for now.

Satisfied, Mirage performed a slow turn—peering at her surroundings. No windows. No access points except through the sole entryway she used. A small and enclosed area.

She frowned.

Grabbing her target and making an escape through this building's chaotic traffic of bodies would be...problematic.

No. Improbable. Her cloaking device only masked her body and nearby sound—not everything else. Exiting the front entrance unseen with Edith was an unrealistic gamble. Mirage wouldn't have had much of an issue if this had been just an assassination mission.

Salvatore had ordered "capture—alive."

If she couldn't complete that objective, he settled for her exact location instead. Either was acceptable.

Mirage's eyes lingered on the doctor.

No matter how much of a genius this woman was supposed to be—it'd still take a long time before she made significant progress with the Adrenomancer harness.

So...no rush. The target wasn't going anywhere.

Mirage exited the clinic and drifted back into the alleyways.

She removed a communication earpiece and placed it within her ear. On the other end, she connected to a voice channel with her employer.

"Talk to me, Mirage," Salvatgore's distorted voice commanded.

"I found our quarry," she whispered. "Sending the coordinates now."