Redstone Ch. 18 Pt 1

Notes: Aaand, new perspective! I think I've written more POVs in this story than in any other I've ever attempted. We're starting to wind things up, and yes, Robbie's situation is...mostly resolved. Enjoy!

Title: Redstone Chapter 18, Part 1

*** 

As soon as Isidore woke up, he knew something was wrong. Going down hadn’t been a surprise; Wyl had signaled that the prison was going to be gassed today, and Isidore had been careful to keep them down in the heart of the prison, veins prickling but heart easy in the knowledge that he, Kyle and, frustratingly, Pence would be safe from the chaos that was certain to emerge when people started waking up.

Pence’s adoption of their living quarters—not all the time, because after a while the iron got to him, but for a few hours every cycle—was annoying but not, Isidore had to admit, the worst thing he’d ever experienced. The man was a gifted storyteller and kept Kyle distracted, and he had more than a few skills that might be useful under the right circumstances. Not that it really mattered; as soon as Garrett had the information that Hummingbird was stealing out from under the nose of the Warden, he’d be able to negotiate for Kyle’s release. Perhaps another week, two at the outside, and they’d be free of this place. Pence wouldn’t be, though.

He’d given up the story of how he’d come to be here so easily that Isidore was more than half convinced it wasn’t true, but it was entertaining nonetheless. “I lived footloose and fancy free in the Central System for years,” he’d expounded while Isidore and Kyle had worked their way through some sticky meal bars. “Thanks to the help of a brilliant little bug I wrote, I worked out who in whatever city I’d have the best luck imitating, then did a bit of work on my appearance and passed myself off as them for a while. Businessmen, trust-funders, even politicians: people will give you a lot of leeway if they think you’re someone important. I hardly ever had to provide identification, in the small provinces. It was a glorious scam,” he said with a pleased sigh.

“Of course, eventually I imitated the wrong man. He caught me at it, actually; I was in one of his penthouses. He was supposed to be gone, but.” Pence shrugged. “Such is life. And after a bit of wrangling, I ended up here.”

“This doesn’t seem like the right place for someone who basically committed identity theft,” Kyle said doubtfully.

“Very astute, little lamb.” Pence refused to elaborate any further, though, but he gave them a wink to soften the lie. When they all fell down the next day, the sleeping gas working too fast for much preparation, Isidore spared a brief thought for how he might actually miss Pence once he and Kyle were out of here.

Pence was the farthest thing from Isidore’s mind when he woke up though, for all the man was mumbling a blue streak over knocking his head against the floor when he’d gone under. There was too much noise filtering down the passage, way too much for the aftermath of a gassing. This wasn’t prisoners fighting it out amongst themselves; this was a concerted effort by many against a few, and if he focused Isidore thought he could detect the whine of bot gears shifting too abruptly to be quiet.

“Fuck.” Something was wrong in the Pit, really wrong. His mind told him the best thing to do was wait down here where it was safe and ride it out, but his instincts were screaming at him to move. He reached out and shook Kyle’s shoulder; he was already awake, just looked a little blurry. Pence was still on his back, affected more by the gas. “Come on, we have to move.”

To his credit, Kyle just nodded. Isidore helped get him to his feet, then led the way down the hall, disruptor firmly in hand. If they were being swarmed by bots right now…

But no, no they weren’t. There was a swarm, for sure, but it was prisoners on guards. Isidore held Kyle back at the entrance to the Pit, staring disconcertedly out at the carnage taking place. It looked like two separate fights had been going on, although one was already over; he could smell the blood in the air, even if there wasn’t much to see over the wave of bodies. The other guard was still on his feet, but he had only one bot left. It was inevitable he’d die, at this point, despite how fiercely he…fought…

Recognition hit Isidore like a shot to the heart, and he actually lurched forward a step before he got control of himself again. Isidore recognized that fighting style; he’d seen it back on Paradise when he’d been a mechanic working on the Federation forces’ fleet of vehicles. Robbie. That was Robbie, which mean something had gone terribly, awfully wrong.

“Fuck.”

“What is it?” Kyle murmured, staying discreet even though he was clearly disturbed by the scene.

“Give me a moment; I need to think.” He couldn’t do anything, he couldn’t. Protecting Robbie wasn’t his mission. He had to take care of Kyle.

The bot went down, and Robbie was bowled over after another few seconds of fighting like a madman. Isidore almost bit through his tongue when he lost sight of him. No, no, nonono—

Then Rory happened, saving the day only to ruin things himself. Isidore knew he was breathing too fast, knew even as Kyle tugged at his arm, worried and wondering, that he was going to do it. He was going to spoil everything because he couldn’t just watch this, he wouldn’t. He’d sooner die himself.

“Stick with Pence,” Isidore heard himself say, the sound feeling very far away as he walked into the room. “Garrett will get you out.” He reached a hand up to his mouth, toward the tooth that would cause a big enough explosion to take out a good half of the people in the Pit. Rory wasn’t looking at him; no one was, all the focus on Robbie and the macabre scene playing out between the two men. He could do this. He had to.

The second before Isidore activated the grenade in his head, a shower of sparks erupted from the main door. It clanged to the ground a moment later, and a security bot rolled into the room. This bot was like none Isidore had ever seen, though; it had some weapons sticking out of it that were downright illegal for security bots, and even as Isidore ducked, it started to fire a mini-laser which burned tiny, perfect holes straight through people. “Alert! Alert! Sound the alarm! Alert! Alert! Sound the alarm!” it blared over and over, burning a swathe through the prisoners who dared to move toward it. It reached Robbie’s side and tore him out of Rory’s slack, astonished grasp, picking him up and cradling him even as it injected a syringe straight into Robbie’s neck. “There there. There there. There there.”

Rory growled and reached for Robbie again, and had a hole burned through his hand for his trouble. All around the Pit people were groaning in pain, most of them alive but all of them wounded. The bot swirled its head in a circle, eyestrip glowing menacingly as it surveyed the prisoners. It paused on Isidore, but moved on after a moment. “There there. There there. There there,” it repeated as it turned and rolled right out of the gaping hole it had left in the Pit, taking Robbie with it.

“What the bloody hell is going on here, petal?”

Pence’s voice shocked Isidore out of his fugue. He shook his head, silent as he weighed his options. This was…a fucking mess, was what it was. No guards were rushing in to shut things down, more than half the prison population was going to need Regen for bot-inflicted burns, and Robbie was possibly gravely injured. If Isidore waited to do this all the right way, the closest to legal way, there very well might be new leadership in place that would refuse any and all requests for transfers while they figured out what the hell had just gone down.

Isidore couldn’t take that risk. If not even Robbie was safe, then there was no way Kyle would survive that long, especially not with the prisoners in a state of upheaval. And besides…the door was open.

Isidore reached out and grabbed Kyle’s hand. “We’re getting out of here,” he said. He could still see the bot in the distance. If they stuck close to it, they could follow it through the doors. From there, he’d be able to find his way to the hangar. Robbie and Wyl’s ship would open to him, and if anyone was going to forgive him for an act of piracy, it was them. “Come on.”

Another hand found his. “You’re not going anywhere without me, darling,” Pence said grimly.

“Then shut up and keep up,” Isidore said, and he tugged them into a run as he chased down the bot. Hopefully it wouldn’t turn around and shoot him when it saw the three of them behind it.

Surprisingly, the bot led the way straight to the ship hangar. Wyl was already there, completely blind to everything except Robbie as he lurched forward toward his husband. “ZeeBee, status!”

“Alive and recovering. Currently, he is under the influence of Regen. Expected return to consciousness in three-point-seven standard hours.”

“Oh.” Wyl shuddered and leaned against the bot’s sturdy body, bringing his head close to Robbie’s. “All right. All right. Fuck, it’s all right.”

“Not completely,” Isidore said. He could see it took effort, but Wyl eventually lifted his head and looked at him. “Hi.”

“Oh. Oh, shit, Isidore!” He was being hugged before he could stop it, something that was sure to cause conniptions in the central security room, but Isidore couldn’t care less. “Fuck, are you okay? What are you doing here?”

“Seizing the day,” Isidore said, feeling a little like falling apart now that he was in friendly arms. “There’s bound to be an inquest, they’ll ask questions, it isn’t safe—it never was, but now—”

“No, you’re right,” Wyl agreed, finally letting him go to look at his companions. “Mr. Alexander. And…”

“Pence, mate.” He almost sounded normal. “Just Pence.”

Wyl looked at Isidore. “He’s with you?”

“He is now.” Whether Isidore wanted it or not, apparently.

“Then he’ll come along. Let’s kick this shithole to the curb. ZeeBee,” Wyl addressed the bot, “get Robbie situated in the ship. You guys, follow him. I’ll be right there.”

“What are you going to do?” Isidore asked.

Wyl smiled darkly. “Since there’s no reason to be subtle anymore, I’m gonna kill every fucking camera and tracking system in this fucking place before we leave. Let them try to send someone after us once I’ve punched their eyes out. Go, go.” He waved them toward his and Robbie’s little ship, then headed to the nearest control panel.

Isidore followed ZeeBee on board, still clinging to Kyle and Pence. They settled into the tight quarters right behind the pilot’s chair, and Pence turned to Isidore with a raised eyebrow. “Interesting friends you’ve got, my dove.”

“You have no idea,” Isidore said dryly.

“We’re really leaving?” Kyle asked. He sounded dumbfounded. “Right now?”

“It’s an opportunity we might not get again.”

“But what about my lawyer? And what about—” He stopped speaking when Isidore shook his head.

“They’ll weather the storm better than we would. This is just a course change, Kyle. We’re not throwing away the map.”

“What map, pet?”

Isidore breathed a sigh of relief when Wyl joined them, firing up the engines and heading for the nearest airlock, which opened obediently to his command. “The one that leads to the end.”

Whatever that was, now.

Redstone Ch. 14, Pt. 1

Notes: New Redstone, and back to Isidore and Kyle we go! Thanks for following along on my updates, and thanks for pointing out where I need to do some editing--I promise I'm taking notes, my friends, I'm just a poor communicator sometimes.

Title: Redstone Chapter 14, Part 1

*** 

Nearly all of life for prisoners in Redstone necessitated a waiting game.

They waited for food, most of them crowding around the troughs that opened in the walls like the pigs they were forced to imitate, the more powerful or the weakest ones hanging back to be served by subordinates or steal a bite when no one was watching.

They waited for a chance to get clean: the showers came on once a day, for five minutes. Cold to wet you down, briefly hot with a spray of soap to cleanse, and then cold again. There were two rooms for showering, ostensibly divided by gender, but in reality one belonged to Klia, one to Rory. There was a hierarchy of cleanliness, as with everything, and if you weren’t part of a crew you either had to beg a bucket from someone, find a new source for water, or risk getting naked in among the press of some of the worst humanity the Federation had to offer. Outright rape was common, and “voluntary servicing” in the showers even more so.

Prisoners waited for the most basic of amenities, with wild-eyed fear and resigned acceptance and feral, savage glee. Prisoners who ran the show made other people wait for them, but in the end everybody waited. The constant lack of occupation led to people making their own, mostly in the worst ways possible. Bloodsports, gambling, sex and murder: they were brutal past times, but at least they gave people something to do.

An unexpected side effect of his new, strange status in Redstone was that Isidore suddenly had more free time than he’d had before. It wasn’t a welcome development. He has a master trader, the man who could get people things that worked in strange ways, surprising ways. He could help piece together a revenge or soothe an ache or shed a ray of light into darkness so complete it felt like being inside a cold, dead womb at times. He traded for what he needed, and he had enough spare parts set aside that he could afford to trade for Kyle as well. It took time to make all the things that people wanted, though, and that pleasantly occupied time had before now been the best part of his day. After coming to an accord with Rory, though…

“Hello, pet,” Pence purred as he suddenly appeared in their section of the hall. Kyle started, and the only reason Isidore didn’t jump was because he was welding something and had trained himself out of being surprised when he was holding the sort of heat that could melt metal. He turned his machine off and glared at Pence.

“What are you doing here?”

“I wished for a glimpse into the heart of the dragon, where you two darling boys have made your hearth and home!” he said with a smile. “I must say, it’s just as uncomfortable as advertised. How on earth do you stand the pull?”

“Willpower.” In reality, Isidore was so used to the way the iron tugged at his blood that he barely noticed it now. Kyle had so recently been in the tank that his body was still minimizing the side effects: the nausea, the headaches, the way the magnetism could make your skin crawl. Hopefully they’d be out of here by the time their surroundings really began to tell on him. “What do you want?”

“I came to deliver your offerings, of course.”

“What kind of offerings?” Kyle asked, trying not to show his sudden interest. What was occupation for Isidore wasn’t quite as entertaining for Kyle, who was a decent engineer but didn’t find inspiration in it.

“Pure and holy offerings of esteem and sacrifice, to the man who went to a one-on-one meeting with Rory and lived to tell the tale, little lamb,” Pence said, slinging a bag off of his shoulder and laying it out on the ground.

“Don’t be an asshole,” Isidore said with a sigh.

“I can be a dick too, if that’s more your style, love,” Pence said instantly. Kyle almost smiled, which delighted the interloper. “Aw, your lamb likes me, Isidore. Doesn’t his regard soften your heart toward me?”

“No, not really.” There was only one way this was going to end, though, and that was with Pence making his presentation. “Fine. Show me what you’ve brought.”

“First, let me just say how utterly horrifying it was to be hunted down by representatives from the biggest sides in our never-ending battle and told I was the perfect delivery boy,” Pence said, a frown coming to his ruddy face. “I didn’t think my favoritism was that blatant, but then I’m not good at ignoring beautiful things and you’ve not beaten me senseless yet, so I suppose people were bound to think we liked each other.”

“Which is wrong.”

“Oh darling, don’t play coy. You know I adore you,” Pence said brightly. “If I didn’t, I would just have kept all this wonderful supplies for myself. Yet here I am, laying it at your feet.”

“You would never have held onto it by yourself,” Isidore retorted. “You’d have been mugged in a matter of minutes if you hadn’t brought this stuff down to me.”

“Beloved, it’s all a matter of perspective; we’ll just have to agree to disagree,” Pence said. “Now, let’s survey your spoils, shall we? Food bars from Klia’s side of the fence—I hadn’t thought you did much business with her, she must really be desperate to get on your good side now,” he noted. “A bucket of water, pre-soaped from this morning’s ablutions courtesy of Rory. That was quite fucking heavy, by the way, my dove. It almost broke my back with its splish-splashing about.”

“Yet you persevered,” Isidore said dryly.

“Well, it’s rather a precious resource, isn’t it? I couldn’t very well spill it and let it go to waste. Speaking of spilling, there’s a canteen of drinking water in there was well, and some prodigious inventor even included a vial of what I can only suppose is…” Pence unscrewed the top of the medicine vial, took one sniff and promptly started coughing. “A bloody fucking paralytic,” he managed around his coughs. “Dear heart, take it before I spill it everywhere.”

Kyle got there before Isidore. He sniffed it, smiled, and then took a sip. Isidore could smell the pungent odor of the rotgut from five feet away; he could only imagine how absolutely foul it had to taste. “How can you possibly drink that?”

Kyle shrugged. “I went to prep school. Alcohol on site was forbidden, so we had to brew our own in secret. Meal bars were a good way to do it, actually, there’s lots of sugar in them. I got drunk off this stuff for the first time when I was fourteen.” He sipped again. “This is better than most of what I got back then, actually.”

“I never thought of prep school as such a dangerous place,” Pence said once he’d caught his breath. “Honestly, drinking that must be like getting kicked in the testicles, if your testicles reside in your throat. You’re a masochist of the first order, little lamb.” He cast a sly sidelong glance at Isidore. “My understanding of your preferences has just grown by leaps and bounds, petal. I’d let you hurt me if it truly made you happy.” He pointed at the half-full vial. “But not with that. Bind me, whip me, make me call you papa while you bugger me senseless, but leave that vile chemistry out of it.”

“Are you done?” Isidore demanded. “Because if that’s all, you can go.”

Pence frowned. “What, don’t I get a smidgeon of praise for bringing your gifts all this way? Can’t you spare me a soupçon of your regard and, possibly, your largesse for my efforts?”

“You can’t honestly tell me that you haven’t already lifted a meal bar or three from the stash you brought me.”

Pence grinned unrepentantly. “You know me so well, my dove! But only two, because I’m not a fool. Much more than that and someone would sniff me out. Still, I’d happily accept a kiss in exchange for my services.”

“You remind me of an old fairy tale,” Kyle said suddenly. “The frog prince. Only in this case you’re bringing your own golden ball to the princess and demanding that she take it in exchange for a kiss.”

“I like how you so easily cast your mentor in the role of princess. It speaks volumes about your level of comfort together,” Pence remarked. “And I think I’d rather be thought of as…Puss in Boots.”

Isidore wasn’t following, but whatever that meant made Kyle smile. “I can see that.”

“You’re a well-educated man,” Pence congratulated him before returning his attention to Isidore. “Now, darling. Please.”

Whether it was because Pence begged with such blatant insincerity, or because he could make Kyle grin, Isidore decided to be generous. Besides, it had been a long time since he’d seen this much water himself. “How about a hot bath?”

Pence’s eyes went wide. “Petal, don’t tease.”

“I’m serious. Faces, hands, underarms and groins only; this water has to last all three of us. And don’t even think about getting naked.”

“But you want me to very thoroughly clean my groin, don’t you?”

“Be as thorough as you like, just stay decent.” Isidore got his welding tool out and opened up the container of slightly gray water. A three-second blast should do it before too much of it went up in steam…he lowered the tip into the water, and then turned on the heat.

There was steam by the time he was done, thin, enticing tendrils floating off the top of the water, but almost none of the water was wasted. Pence and Kyle both moved in and dipped their fingertips simultaneously. Kyle seemed pleased, but the look of rapture on Pence’s face verged on orgasmic.

“Hot water,” he breathed. “I haven’t felt hot water since the last time I was forced into the showers. Two years ago now,” he added absently, missing or ignoring the look that Isidore and Kyle shared. “What bliss.”

Isidore sighed. Being nice probably wasn’t going to pay off in the long run, but he couldn’t help it. “You two go first. Don’t use it all.”

“Oh, darling.” The smile Pence turned on him was the most genuine expression he’d ever seen on the man. “You might have to tie me up to stop me, but I’ll try to be good. Thank you.”

Isidore nodded. “You’re welcome.”

Redstone Ch. 10, Pt. 1

Notes: Back at last, and longer than usual! Have some Isidore being a total badass, ladies and gents, I hope you enjoy it. Remember, Reclamation is out and it has a playlist, so go enjoy that too. Free stuff for the win!

Title: Redstone Chapter 10, Part 1.

*** 

Isidore was feeling fairly confident as he led Kyle along their dark back corridor toward the Pen. Wyl and Robbie were here, which meant Robbie was integrating into the guard unit. He wouldn’t have a lot of clout there yet, but at least he’d be a moderating influence when it came to Kyle’s treatment. Kyle needed that if he was going to get through his official intake in one piece. Isidore remembered his own, and it had been…uncomfortable. And thorough. He was lucky his records had shown him as diseased when he got here; there were a few illnesses that even Regen had a tough time eradicating in just one go, and the guards were less inclined to take chances on a new piece of tail when there were other, far healthier inmates to take advantage of.

Klia’s crew had something close to a monopoly on the guards’ “personal attention” in exchange for better food and equipment. It was dirty but necessary, and she drove her best people hard to keep the rest of them safe. Klia was tough but reliable. She would jump into a situation as fast as anyone if she saw something to be gained, but other than that she held her ground and waited for opportunities to present themselves. She wouldn’t bother them now, in the Pen, but she wouldn’t offer them anything.

Rory’s crew was bigger but less cohesive than Klia’s, a lot of dangerous and violent personalities crushed together by Redstone and kept that way by Rory’s enormous fist. He was undoubtedly the most dangerous person in the entire prison one-on-one, a wanderer who’d gone past the farthest reaches of human-occupied space and returned with the most vicious will to live and conquer that Isidore had ever seen. Rory was elemental chaos, violence distilled into the heart of this dark place like a neutron star. He always pushed, and forced his people to do the same. They would come for Kyle, Isidore knew. If not now, then very soon. And Isidore wasn’t enough to keep Kyle safe.

He knew that Kyle would object to being typified as helpless, but it was very nearly the truth. It would have been different if Kyle had kept his mods; physical ability counted for a lot in the Pen. But he didn’t have them, and without fast fists and feet to back up his forceful desire for independence, he looked exactly like what he was: a young, mostly untested young man too full of idealism to really understand just what some of these people were capable of.

Kyle was armed with a single use, button-sized taser that would do for a one-on-one confrontation, and Isidore had his mods and a few surprises tucked here and there, but they needed allies. The independents were their best bet, but Big Charlie and his shadow were right out. That left six other inmates that might be willing to work with them, which was…not much. Let us just get through this first day, just one with no problems, Isidore thought fervently as he stepped into a broader hallway. A few hundred more yards and they’d be in the Pen, where people were already jockeying for position for food. If the guards were fast coming for Kyle, if he found independents willing to sit with them soon enough, if people needed what Isidore was offering…so many maybes.

“Hey there, lads.”

Kyle started, but Isidore was able to keep himself from jumping, just barely. “Pence.” He turned toward the man in the shadows, who was twirling his copper moustache like some ancient holovid villain. “What do you want?”

Pence held his hands up as he took a step forward. “No need to be hostile, Is-adore. I’m just pleased that you’re still both here, and looking so hale and hearty too! I heard there was some trouble with a bot earlier.”

“Where did you hear that?” Kyle asked suspiciously. Pence’s little smile got broader.

“Oh, I hear all sorts of things.” He tapped his ear knowingly. “Knowledge is a garden, and I like to cultivate mine. There might mean growing more mushrooms than flowers in this shit hole, but every little bit of information has its value.”

“What do you want?” Isidore repeated flatly. Pence had come here for a reason, but you had to pry information out of the man with a molecular destabilizer sometimes, and Isidore was in a hurry.

“My dear, you’re no fun sometimes.” He inclined his head and got down to business, though. “I come bearing gifts, actually.” He reached behind his back and pulled out a pair of shoes. They were tiny, the sort of basic sleeves that would expand to almost any size and kept most things from puncturing the material and the skin it protected, but didn’t do much for support. They were far better than Kyle going in there on bare feet, though, and an expensive thing to offer up. Especially as a gift.

“Where did you get those?”

“Does it matter?”

“It does. If you got them from a corpse, then you’ve probably violated someone else’s claim to the body because it isn’t a corpse you made.” Pence was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a killer. “If you stole them and people see them on Kyle, then I’ve inherited your trouble. I don’t need more trouble right now.” Stealing was more likely, honestly.

“Neither is correct this time, my ever-insightful darling,” Pence declared. Isidore felt Kyle stiffen slightly, and had to keep himself from rolling his eyes. Kyle would get used to Pence’s grandiose use of pet names eventually. “Three of Klia’s people just got new boots, and these were up for grabs. All it took was a little down-and-dirty prophylactic assistance that only yours truly could provide, and voila! Now I gift them to you and your new boy.”

“In exchange for what?”

Pence tilted his head slightly, the copper in his hair gleaming as he moved. “Call it a gesture of goodwill. I can’t associate with you officially, of course, it’s far too early for that sort of thing, but I sense a change in the wind. I simply want to be sure that I’m ensconced with the winning side.”

“What kind of change?” Kyle asked.

“Mouthy, isn’t he?” Pence commented. “Dear pet, let me tell you this and save your new master the trouble: silence is golden. You’re Isidore’s boy, so you do what he says when he says it, and nothing else. You don’t ask questions, especially not the kind that might cost you something.” Pence looked at Isidore and shook his head. “You’re being overly nice to this one, sweetness; he’s too accustomed to leading when he needs to be submitting to your leash. Silence him or risk losing him.”

“I handle my boy my way,” Isidore said, not that Pence was wrong. They’d talked about it, and Isidore had thought that Kyle understood, but Pence was dangerously disarming. His demeanor invited intimacy and conversation, but hopefully he would be the only one who slipped past Kyle’s guard like this. Kyle didn’t say anything else, so that was good. “And I accept your gift.” He held out his hand, and Pence inspected it carefully before laying the shoes in it. Isidore passed them back to Kyle, who put them on immediately. “Anything else?” There was always something else with Pence.

“Something that might be rather immediately useful, actually, provided you have a spare battery on hand.” Pence smirked and fluffed his hair mockingly. “My vanity mirror needs a new light source.”

Naturally. Luckily, Isidore had plenty of batteries now. He made one appear in his palm, and saw the glimmer of avarice in Pence’s eyes grow a little brighter. “Define immediately useful.”

“Information that’s face saving, quite literally,” Pence replied. “The sort of thing that might give the guards time to take your darling boy away and give you time to talk to the grownups without risking damage to your magnificent reputation.”

“Tell me.”

“Prove it works first.”

Oh, cheeky bastard. “I don’t deal in bad product.”

“Just checking, darling.” Pence shrugged, then continued. “There’s a little wolf pack waiting to try your mettle up ahead, and I do mean up. Two on the lintel and one enterprising little bugger clinging to the wall above them. Someone got a rather interesting set of mods past security,” he added with a little whistle. “No weapons that I could see, but that doesn’t mean much.”

“True.” Three of Rory’s guys. Not terrible, and a good show would certainly make the other independents more likely to give them the time of day. “Accepted.” He handed the battery over, and Pence caught the very edges of his hand and held it lightly as he bowed low, blowing a kiss across Isidore’s palm before tipping the battery into his own.

“You are wise beyond your tender years, dear heart.” Pence scooted away, and Isidore turned back to Kyle.

“We don’t have to stop them for long, just long enough for the guards to come and get you,” he said quietly. “It’s a test, not a real attack. Rory’s checking to see how committed I am to you. I’ll go in first, try to take at least two. Save the taser for yours. If you get into trouble,” please don’t get into trouble, “run toward me. I’ll handle it.”

“Got it.” Kyle looked nervous and grim, which was completely appropriate, but Isidore hated to see that expression on his face. He leaned in closer and lowered his voice to a whisper.

“Remember, Robbie is here. He’s probably going to be watching, and as soon as he sees you he’ll move to get you, I’m sure of it. You’ll be all right.”

“As long as you are too.”

“Don’t worry about me.” Isidore turned away before Kyle could protest again and led the way toward the pen. Ten more steps…five… Kyle hung back a bit, smart boy, and Isidore stepped through the door. The conversation nearest to him slowed, and he could almost feel the wave of sudden attention flow over him. His proximity sense kicked into overdrive, detecting the electrical fields of the men above him, letting him turn and catch the first one as he leapt down from above the entryway.

It was Lightning Ray, a long, skinny guy whose mods had added an extra foot of length to each limb. If he could keep you back he was hard to fight, but Isidore was already inside of his range, and grabbed the man by the throat as they both tumbled toward the floor. He turned his hand into a claw and dug inward, his nails puncturing flesh and gristle with ease. Blood began to bubble out of Ray’s gasping mouth, and Isidore kicked him away just in time to sit up and lunge for the second man, who’d jumped down and headed back toward the hallway to run down Kyle.

The second man—Nathaniel, Isidore thought—was unfortunately a much better grappler than Lightning Ray. He turned into Isidore and charged, putting him flat on his back again. Isidore struck out with his hands, but Nathaniel just leaned in and wrapped Isidore’s arms up as high as the shoulders, immobilizing them. He did the same with his legs, twining his own around them like vines. Nathaniel was incredibly flexible, and it didn’t take Isidore long to realize that if he didn’t do something fast, he’d be incredibly stuck.

“I hope you like being on the bottom like this,” Nathaniel whispered in Isidore’s ear as he leaned in close. Isidore didn’t say anything, just stretched his neck as far as he could, and then bit Nathaniel hard on the cheek.

Nathaniel reared back but didn’t let go immediately. “You fucking little shit, what the fuck was that? I’ll take that…take it out of…out…of…” His grip loosened and Isidore fought free immediately, already looking for Kyle, where was he, what had happened—

Kyle’s attacker, a bald man that Isidore didn’t recognize, was laid out at his feet. Kyle’s one-shot taser sent a tendril of smoke up from where it was still embedded in the guy’s gut. Kyle himself looked stunned, staring wide-eyed at Isidore. After a moment, Isidore realized he had Nathaniel’s blood smeared across his mouth. He licked his lips. It tasted foul.

“Back up, people.”

Isidore could have melted at the sound of Robbie’s voice, but he just took a step back from the carnage instead. Robbie led four bots, one of whom snatched up Nathaniel, who was beginning to foam at the mouth, and another who went after Lightning Ray, noisily choking on his own blood. Another bot went for Kyle’s attacker, and the final one? Straight for Kyle. It reached for his hand with its gripping appendage and Kyle let it take hold.

“You need an intake number,” Robbie grunted. “And these idiots apparently need the infirmary. And you…” He turned gimlet eyes on Isidore, who met them in total silence. “You need to learn to finish the job, punk. Save me some fucking time, why don’t you?” He turned around and the bots went with him, leaving nothing but stains across the floor.

Isidore spat his mouthful of another man’s blood out onto the rest of the filth, then turned to the watching crowd. “If Rory has something to say to me, he should just say it,” he said quietly. “No need to waste people.”

“Come on, then.” The man in the very front stood up from a table: Sylvester, one of Rory’s lieutenants. “Let’s take you to speak to him.”