He reached the most dangerous part of his escape, the maintenance corridor that connected the old sewers with Alwinter’s functional recycling system. Rusty scaffolding was the only surface between Delagarza and the rabid river of waste below him. If he fell, not only would it be a disgusting experience, but also a lethal one. Hypothermia and shock would kill him in seconds.
Delagarza kept his eyes peeled for more patrols, but he was savoring his escape already. No enforcers or security here, no one wanted to sift through the smell.
Perhaps he’d have time to see Charleton one more time before leaving Alwinter. Their goodbye, before Delagarza had set to meet Kayoko, had been unsatisfactory for both of them. A simple holo letter at the side of her bed, telling her he was sorry, but it would be better if she pretended he had never existed. It would be safer for her.
A part of him grieved for the life he’d leave behind. The morning hustle with Cooke, roaming the streets for ‘ware contracts, the afternoons working late with Charleton, the nights filled with smoke and the greasy smell of fast food.
Hell, he’d even miss Alwinter’s cold.
Maybe I’ll have time to visit, after all this is over, he told himself. Hirsen didn’t answer. Instead, the agent sent a red flash of alarm across Delagarza’s nervous system.
Delagarza was deluding himself. But, worst of all, he wasn’t paying as much attention as he should have.
His vision went out to blank when the gloved hand hit him in the back of his head. The transmitter fell and slid through the scaffolding, out of sight. Delagarza lost balance, but managed to recover by pure instinct. He stumbled and tried to spin. A boot came down behind his knee, swept him down. The scaffolding groaned and creaked under the impact. A punch hit Delagarza square in the mouth, he hit the back of his head against the metallic plates.
He went for his gun. The boot came down on his hand, kicked the gun away, off the scaffolding. Pain exploded across Delagarza’s hand, transformed into a scream when it reached his throat. That same boot pressed against his chest, pinning him to the floor, like a butterfly pinned to a showcase.
“Well, well,” said a woman’s voice, shrill, like fingernails raking against a chalkboard. “What do we have here? A rat trying to leave its sinking ship? Can’t have that.”
“Krieger,” Delagarza muttered. He blinked, hard, to clean his eyes and focus his vision. Krieger stood above him, not unlike he had stood over the two men he had killed. She wore the enforcers’ uniform, the gun she had used to shoot Delagarza holstered on her underarm, far away from his reach.
“You know, it’s the second time your name’s came up today. Fucking hell, I knew you were still kicking around, that somehow you lived after I tried to crush you. But this is overdoing it, don’t you think? You’re a one-night-stand that refuses to take the hint.”
DELAGARZA GRABBED WEAKLY at the boot with his healthy hand, trying to ease on the pressure that was crushing his ribs. Krieger smiled and pressed harder.
“What are you doing here? I knew you liked to play the Taiga’s bad boy, but you’ve got to be insane to stay around the rebellion these days.”
“Unf.”
She scowled and eased her step. Air rushed into Delagarza’s battered lungs. “Seriously. Strauze showed me your loyalty test responses. You passed, no ties to the EIF, nor these people. You’re a cockroach, surviving the day to day and little else. What the hell, man, did the blood loss give you brain damage?”
Careful, said Hirsen, you’re still alive because she’s curious.
“Your loyalty test isn’t as good as you think. I lied to it.”
What are you doing? Hirsen demanded.
“You can’t trick nanobots, idiot.”
“I’m an agent, Krieger. I tricked your nanobots, and I tricked your boss.” He laughed painfully, like a madman, the way Kayoko had laughed when presented with her death. He could understand her now.
“You’re making fun of me,” Krieger said. But she doubted, didn’t strike at him. “What an idiot. Vortex’s arrival almost cost us our jobs, you know? Erickson wouldn’t understand why we kept Taiga alive for so long. He refuses to believe Isabella Reiner is dead, even now. Claims the DNA records don’t match.”
Delagarza, stop talking, Hirsen said.
“That’s right, Krieger. Isabella’s alive. And when Clarke gets here, your boss Erickson will bomb Alwinter to hell so the EIF doesn’t get her back. We are all going to die, asshole, so why should I care if I die a few hours earlier? Go ahead, I’m having an old regular day.”
Krieger’s hand hovered above her gun. Hirsen sent waves of adrenaline along his body, urging him to stay alive, to say something. But Delagarza couldn’t help but feel a strange trepidation at the prospect of finally getting to rest.
Isn’t that what would happen to him, even if he got past Krieger? The gun. Or the agent. Both ended the same for him. Floating in the dark, forever.
Maybe not a single one of the decisions he had made had been his own. But maybe he could choose how he checked out of the game. He was tired.
Tired of Hirsen, tired of Alwinter’s cold, tired of knowing he wasn’t real.
Hirsen rushed to the surface of his brain, wrestling Delagarza’s for control of his body. The agent tried to do what he’d refused to do before. Delagarza swatted him back down, his will a steel wall, impenetrable. He was in control of his body, the majority holder of his mind’s shares. He was his own person, and he intended to go that way. With dignity. He heard Hirsen’s frustration as the agent stumbled down into his own subconscious.
Fuck you, Delagarza told him, fuck your rebellion, fuck your secrets. I’m out, gentleman.
“Know what,” said Krieger, “I think I know what’s going on. Your friend convinced you to join the rebellion, didn’t he? The guy who saved your life when I left you bleeding in the street.”
Cooke. Something in her gleeful expression raised alarms in Delagarza’s mind. “What about him?” he asked.
“That’s the one. My security officers pinged him today, didn’t I tell you? Your name’s tied to his profile, so I got the message the instant they threw him into a van,” Krieger said. “He got in the face of two of my officers this morning when they knocked at his office—your office, I guess—and demanded their protection pay. Your Cooke, what a green guy. Didn’t understand how Alwinter works. Refused to pay.”
“Krieger…” Delagarza grunted, his voice dripping with venom. Krieger snorted and stepped on his chest again to remind him who was in control.
“He almost got lucky. My officers were just going to throw him in jail. But I already got an earful from Erickson himself for leaving loose ends around. I had him shot, Delagarza, his back against a wall. Asking for mercy. Speaking nonsense about his rights. See? I do take my job seriously.”
Delagarza always had a knack for reading people. Krieger’s eyes glinted with glee. She enjoyed this, torturing defenseless people. And she was telling the truth.
Cooke had died because of Delagarza. Sure, Hirsen brought the EIF to Dione, put the enforcers on high alert, manipulated Delagarza into helping him.
But Hirsen didn’t choose to sleep with Krieger. Didn’t choose to bring a sociopath to his life just because he was cold and lonely that night, head too far into his own ass to think that sometimes, a man’s mistakes can spill to the people he cares about.
How’s that for selective empathy.
Krieger took her gun out of her holster. “Now that we’re talking loose ends, I should do something about that bitch of yours after I kill you. So I can tell Erickson and Strauze the Delagarza chapter is closed in my file. Hell, maybe I’ll get Strauze’s job after this is over. I’m doing a better job than he has.”