“I totally agree. I know I wouldn’t trust him—maybe he stole it. Maybe honor among thieves? I kinda wonder who’s in charge anyway...” Nick said, nodding.

  She just shrugged, unsure how to answer.

  “Maybe they came to an accord... Sometimes in their inner circles, they know better than to steal from each other. More fear of repercussions than honor. As for who's in charge—no idea. There’ve been two changes in management since I got here. First the guy from the warehouse bust, then Tommy took over after him... Tommy’s dead now, soooo…”

  Nick wandered over to the tree Danny was secured to, checking him.

  Still out... he thought.

  “Hey, Tiff?”

  Her ears perked as she padded over. “Yeeees?” she asked, nudging up beside him, tilting her head toward Nick.

  “You think we can just leave him here... or what do you normally do?”

  She squatted beside Danny, considering. “Well... if they’re still alive, I usually use this to tie them up—or zip ties if I don’t have anything else.”

  She handed him a small box that looked like a pocket-sized tape measure. Nick took it and tugged the tab; as he did, a glowing thread unfurled—ghostly white against the darkening evening.

  “What’s this?” he asked.

  For the first time since waking up that night, Tiffany smiled—a mischievous, tooth-baring grin.

  “Hold your hands together in front of you.”

  Her smile made Nick uneasy, but he played along anyway, presenting his wrists. Tiffany’s grin sharpened, tongue sliding out to lick at the blood on her muzzle trying to clean the residual.

  In one fluid motion, she pulled the glowing thread free, wrapped his arms several times, overlapped the line, then pressed a button on the side of the box. The thread split, its glow fading to a dull white.

  “Okay, now try to break out,” she said, clearly enjoying herself.

  Nick twisted—no give. The fibers wouldn’t bend. He tried biting them. It was like chewing tensile steel.

  “What is this stuff? You recruit Peter Parker to you design team?”

  She blinked. “Who?”

  Nick gave her a flat look. “We really need to update your pop culture database.”

  She frowned, sticking her tongue out. “As long as I get tasty meat treats, I’ll accept your tutelage.”

  “Deal.”

  “Now, about the box—Alice actually patented it. Got the idea from the Araneae.”

  Nick blinked. “The wha—?”

  “Spider people,” she said plainly.

  “They make theirs naturally. This is synthetic—and it’s got a trick.”

  She held up the box again. “See this button I pushed to cut the thread?” He nodded. She pressed it—nothing, "Now keep watching."

  Sliding a switch on the edge, she pressed again, and held the side button. The thread lit up pale white. She pulled a single strand, guiding it with clawed fingers into the box, gently unwinding it from around his wrists and feeding it back into the box.

  “What in the world…” he said, subtle amazement creeping into his voice.

  Tiffany beamed—a full-canined, cheesy grin at his reaction.

  “You know… some guys would pay a pretty penny to have a big girl tie them up like that,” Nick teased.

  He watched her eyes go wide and red cheeks flush a whitish pink as she stammered, clearly flustered, tucking the box back into her pocket.

  “Well… um… eh-heh, yeah, he’ll be fine. As long as he can’t snap a full-size tree in half.”

  The obviously dodged statment made Nick grin even wider.

  "Wanna go check it out now?" she stopped, her brain returning from the fog of embarrassment as she looked back over at Nick.

  "Huh... Oh!" She was clearly looking lost.

  "Oh? I make one sex joke and you forget where you're at?" he asked with a chuckle, making her face flash colors briefly.

  "No... sorry, I was just lost in thought..." she replied, slipping back into her work mindset.

  "I can tell. Okay, I won't pick on you till we make it back home, alright?"

  She nodded in appreciation. She was already having a tough time focusing as it was; she heard everything he said clearly, but something about that last part made her feel warm and fuzzy. Happy.

  *Home... I haven't been able to entertain that thought in a long time. And that someone would offer it to me like this... Okay, head outta the clouds, girl. You can do this.*

  She was telling herself, slapping her cheeks, trying to get her thoughts back in line.

  "Tiff, you okay there?" Nick asked, checking the plasma packs in both guns, then swapping a magazine in his sidearm and chambering a round.

  She nodded, giving him a thumbs-up, and they jogged toward the field, leaving Danny tied to a tree for later collection.

  When they finally made it to the area, it was just a barren patch. It looked out of place—a bare stretch of earth the size of two football fields in the middle of a forest. They stopped just outside the edge. Tiff looked down at Nick. He looked back, noticing her holding her hand out toward him. He took her red furry hand; her coarse red fur was an interesting contrast to her supple, soft, leathery palm.

  She tried to stay focused on the job, but in her head, her inner self had a bad case of the zoomies—rapidly running circles and cutting flips in her own chaotic, canine happy dance.

  "Ready?" he asked pulling a Cicada from his back pocket, holding it at the ready *click* he flicks the safty off putting it in single burst mode.

  She nodded, and together they walked into the field. A feeling of static electricity washed over them as they passed through.

  From cool, darkened evening...

  To static-choked black nothing...

  To soft yellowish light—

  And they were suddenly standing in what looked like a makeshift, temporary warehouse.

  Nick let go once reaching the other side, looking around—then at Tiff, then at the floor, then back at Tiff again doing a double take—covering his mouth to stifle a laugh. Her fur, from head to toe, looked like she’d gone through a dryer, every hair poking out of her suit in chaotic mess.

  "Phhfs—haahahaha—! You look like a giant red lint ball!"

  The unamused Tiff reached out and poked him with an index finger, giving him a light jolt of static electricity before patting her hair back down. The small yelp he emitted brought a smirk to her thin lips as she tapped her collar, ejecting her helmet and face shield.

  "Did Moyra give any details about this place?"

  Nick’s face went blank at the question.

  *Ah... fucking melons! Ugh... stupid... out of everything we talked about, of course I’d forget the important part... stupid-stupid-stupid—*

  For a brief moment, Nick was mentally kicking himself, his brain still vacationing in the land of oversized melons straining the thread count of a flannel shirt. (Poor thing.)

  "Um... I’m... sorry, I missed that—detail," he finally muttered, embarrassed, staring down at the cheap tile floor.

  She paused, looking at him, then placed a hand on his shoulder, giving a small, reassuring squeeze.

  "It’s fine. Just stay close. If things get hairy, hide behind me for cover," she said in a low, muffled intercom voice. She tapped the side of her helmet, cycling through her display scanners to check the surroundings of the vast empty warehouse.

  Bleeps and dots lit up across her HUD, displayed in the corner of her visor. When she focused on an object, a crosshair would highlight it and provide technical data—but there wasn't anything here. Text scrolled across the lens:

  *Infrared—negative*

  *Incendiaries—negative*

  *Recordable/live feed—negative*

  *Lasers/security alarm—negative*

  *No hostilities found in your area... proceed with caution*

  "The heck—?" Nick heard her surprised blurt through the helmet’s vent.

  "What is it? Hostiles?" he asked, pulling out his gun and switching it to single-shot mode.

  "No... quite the opposite, actually."

  Nick lowered his weapon, looking every bit as confused as she sounded.

  She paused, thinking. "Hey—stay back and wait a second," she told him. He nodded, backing up to the wall they’d walked through to get in.

  He watched as she took a few steps forward—then vanished.

  Moments later, she reappeared, facing him. Her leg hair and hands were fluffed out just like the first time they’d walked through the field.

  "It's a double layered camo-field come, take my hand again."

  He nodded and walked up to grab her hand. Together, they stepped through another field—this time, not into an empty warehouse.

  They looked around, noting all the aisles of large, heavy shelving lined with crates of equipment. Nick spotted some odd coffin-shaped steel boxes along the outer walls, each inlaid with an illuminated green screen.

  "Hey, check this out," he said in a low voice.

  "Wait—don’t move..." She raised an open palm in front of his chest to emphasize the command, scanning the warehouse’s high shelves. Most of the crates returned empty readings. Then she spotted a large terminal surrounded by a spiderweb of trip lasers—neither visible without her helmet’s scan interface.

  "Looks like they wanted to keep people out without having to man the place..."

  "Stay—oh! Almost forgot. Here, take this... just incase."

  She tapped the side of her gauntlet, producing a small ear clip.

  She paused, thinking back over everything since they entered the warehouse. Instead of handing the earpiece to Nick’s outstretched hand, she pulled back slightly, her shoulders slumping as her helmeted head tilted downward.

  "I... I know you're better than this. I'm sorry. Please—bear with me. I'm used to being alone. I'm not used to having a physical partner. Especially one that knows how not to wander off like a toddler... That’s not aimed at you, by the way."

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  Nick looked at her—expressionless for a beat—then shrugged.

  "It's understandable. You’re the point ma... wom—hmm... pack leader? You lead, I’ll follow. That is, if you're okay with that, Tiff. I got your back."

  He grinned, patting the side of the Cicada.

  She didn’t reply. Nick couldn't see her toothy smile, or the flush in her furry cheeks inside the shielded helmet—but he saw her tail arc up and gently sweep the air side to side.

  His grin widened, trying not to look too obvious.

  She collected herself and handed him the earpiece, demonstrating how to attach it.

  He nodded and clipped it onto the top of his ear, just as she showed him.

  "Testing... can you hear me?" she whispered in a low, gruff voice.

  "Loud and clear." He replied in a normal tone, coming across crisp in her helmet.

  "Oh—sorry, I thought I was trying to speak quietly..." Nicks head drops downward at this.

  "It's... just a phrase, I can hear you clearly. Sorry, I’ll try to keep the terms neutral."

  She nodded, then turned toward the panel on the far side of the warehouse and slowly shifted into her human size. Stretching and bending, her joints popped as she limbered up.

  "They’ve got a security grid. I'm going to get through and loop the system so we can look around more freely. This is starting to feel like a satellite station, not a hub..."

  She darted forward—ducking under one laser, sliding beneath another, springing sideways to avoid a cluster of lasers mid-air, and grabbing the outer upper leg of one of the massive shelves. Her legs tucked, feet planted against the frame, and she launched herself laterally, narrowly missing another laser before catching an anchored light fixture overhead. She paused, checked her position, then flipped backward, landing silently in front of the panel off to the side.

  Nick didn’t quite catch what she was dodging—trip lasers? But the way she moved... it was part ninja, part gymnast, all instinct. Every vault, duck, and flip was deliberate—like her body knew the layout without thinking or looking.

  *phachick* Tiffany tapped her data cover, pulling out the cord and plugging it into the access port. She slid the connector in with a satisfying *snick*, then stood off to the side where Nick couldn’t see her.

  Her body twitched subtly. Sweat glistened along her skin as her green eyes rolled back—the nurolink in her spine flaring hot as her mind collided with encrypted barriers guarding the on-site database and perimeter security.

  She hovered in her mind’s eye, above an imaginary ground. Slowly, her feet lowered, touching down. As her feet touched her network made connection with the system. Colors of angry red and all-encompassing darkness threatened to swallow her whole. She watched as shadowy shapes bubbled up like angry blobs of ink from the red fractures in the darkened ground, as the system recognized a new user.

  The dark figures took the form of human-sized rat creatures, a little bigger than herself. Their slitted red eyes glared at her.

  "Greetings user... Confirm your password authorization..." They hissed at her in the mechanical tin whine, watching her, waiting.

  *Ok, this is the fun part, time to cut the panel signal so they can't call for help* She thought as she stood firm, eyes close.

  "SYSTEM PANEL LOCKDOWN!"

  After giving the audible command, her system severed all external links except her own. The creatures slitted eyes widened, they tilted their heads to the side in unison looking at each other then her. With a loud dial-up screetch in unison they spoke.

  "Incorrect Password, Prepare to be purged. Terminate!"

  "What? Just one try? No mulligans? Well, Fudruckles... Bring it ya slimeballs! She replied mockingly.

  The creatures hissing and screeching as they charged. She dropped into a defensive karate stance, poised.

  A nightmare lunged—snarling, biting. As it hurtled toward her face, she grabbed its snout midair. As it rushed her face-first, she grabbed its snout. Confusion crossed its expression as she squeezed, whirling it around and flinging it back at several others bolting toward her. The flying rat crashed into them, shattering them like a thin pane of glass. The broken pieces crumbled and dissolved on the ground, melting into the angry red fissures where they spawned.

  Another rat snuck beside her, biting into her arm with an audible *Crunch—*

  "Aaaaaaaahhh!" Tiff howled in pain.

  Several others joined in—biting, clawing. Her physical body twitched and spasmed with each scratch and bite. She grabbed the head of the creature latched to her arm, squeezing until it shattered. Its jaw fell open, limp, finally releasing its grip. She swung the broken body at the last few rats mindlessly charging her like rabid beasts, shatering the remaining few as they crumbled oozing back into the angry red fissures in the floor

  One more shadow bubbled up—a tall, dark, skinny figure standing above her at about six-foot-two. She recognized the shadow by the curly mess of hair and the height, its hands hanging low in its pockets—just like the real one. That gleaming white Cheshire cat smile etched across its face as the red-slit eyes gleamed, leering at her. It stood still a moment, the human shape melting away to reveal its true self—his river-noodle Pharose form.

  Its midsection stretched, neck elongating, face rounding. The proportions shifted until it transformed fully. That carved smile pulled apart like a hot, sticky bun separating—unleashing an unearthly shriek.

  *Skreeeeeeeeee—*

  Tiffany’s eyes shot wide as it lunged, its speed catching her off guard. It slipped through her guard, grabbing her hard by the shoulders. Its clawed fingers dug deep like tendrils, making her scream.

  Her physical body spasmed more violently, dark bruises appearing on her arms where the creature's claws gouged into her digital self. It didn’t waste time. Whipping its neck around, the gaping maw bit deep—ripping out an artery in her neck.

  "Aaaaaahhhhhhhnnnnhhh!"

  Her digital self shrieked, a bloodcurdling scream as the creature tore a chunk from her and swallowed—her neck oozing black goop.

  The data port of her physical body began to pour smoke. Skin blistered around it as she foamed at the mouth, convulsing.

  Nick couldn’t see what was happening to her, but something didn’t sit right with him. He smelled something—smoking electronics, sizzling flesh.

  “Tiff? Are you okay? Come in—”

  Nick's voice carried into her mind, snapping her awareness back. Tiff rose from the fatal wound, shaking off the pain, locking eyes with shadow Francis. In a fluid motion, she twisted her arms around his grip, tearing herself free. Black, wiggling tendrils broke off in her arms—she grabbed them, stabbing shadow Francis in the neck.

  The dripping maw twisted in fury, shrieking as black sludge poured from the wounds. She leapt, spun, and hooked the back of his long neck with the crook of her leg. In a powerful motion, she flung him to the ground, shattering the black floor. Giant red fissures opened as he crumpled like a sack of cement.

  He wriggled and shrieked, trying to rise. Before he could, she landed hard on his neck.

  *Crunch—Blaaah—*

  The crunch echoed as he vomited pools of black and green glowing sludge. His body shuddered, still struggling.

  Tiffany fell, knee-first, between his shoulder blades. Without pause, she grabbed his head—twisting sharply.

  *Craaaack—Snap*!

  Then she re-twisted it the opposite way for good measure.

  Shadow Francis fell limp—cracked, bright, angry red light pouring through the breaks. Then—shattered, like hitting a slab of obsidian with a sledgehammer. The remains melted into the angry red fissures in the floor. Slowly, the red faded to pink, then a joyful green.

  Relief flooded her mind. The darkness turned to a bright green, then faded to a tolerable dark green that pulsed slowly. Her physical body began to cool, steam sizzling off her neck, skin healing as the internal conflict subsided.

  It felt like an hour compressed into less than a minute.

  Then—*Beeeeep*. —Connection. The pulse steadied, a calm dark green.

  Tiffany's digital self hunched forward, hands on knees—trying to catch her breath. (Which she wasn’t literally catching—more a mental effort to come down from the adrenaline high.) Gasping, beads of sweat pouring, the chunk missing from her neck oozed black goo that hardened, then repaired itself.

  A green screen appeared in front of her, hovering. As she raised her hands, a ghostly green transparent keyboard floated to meet them. She started tapping—searching.

  She had successfully gained access into the network. Tiffany looped the security feed into a closed circuit: all video and audio feeds now looping a constant all clear, while laser tripwires quietly blinked offline. She paused at the floating screen, thinking. She then pressed the nape of her neck and pulled her data cable out, inserting it into the side of the screen. Ones and zeros blurred across the display, with a progress bar running along the top.

  *Data cleaned and collected. Have a nice day!*

  She managed to do a quick search of inventory and anything else that wasn't purged before disconnecting. She pulled her connector from the floating screen, retracted it, and began to float off the floor—her digital eyes closed as she returned to physical consciousness.

  Her eyes fluttered open, looking around.

  *grrrrrrhh*

  Her stomach growled in protest at the smell of burning flesh.

  Ugh... Guess I pushed things a little too far... she thought glumly, tapping her gauntlet and taking the other earclip, inserting it onto her upper outer ear.

  A moment later, she called Nick over through the earpiece.

  “Lasers are down. We're clear to move now.”