“It’s weird being an ex-celeb, if I can describe it that generously. It’s like I have this whole other life that crops up now and then. ‘Wait a minute, aren’t you that skid guy from a few years back?’ Yes, yes I am. Now, would you like fries with that?”

  Terrence Grantham woke to the sound of his phone ringing. Only it wasn’t his regular, day-to-day phone. It was his other phone. The phone that was never supposed to ring.

  Because of that, it didn’t immediately wake his wife. The secret phone buzzed, but the sound was actually coming from an implant in his ear canal. He carefully and quietly rummaged in his side table drawer, located his old “broken” phone that he kept “forgetting” to recycle, and looked at the screen. All it displayed was an address.

  “Shit,” he hissed.

  It was really happening.

  “What, baby?” Latrice muttered.

  “Uh, work,” he said. Which was true enough. “I gotta go in.”

  She mumbled something in sympathy, but she rolled over. Her breathing became regular again after a few minutes.

  Terrence slipped out of bed and slunk to the bathroom. He glimpsed Naomi, sound asleep in her little bed across the hall. He quickly looked away as a lump formed in his throat.

  In the small bathroom he looked at himself in the mirror and sighed. This was the last time he would see this face. In minutes he had shaved his hair and beard, carefully gathering the refuse in a plastic bag so as to leave no evidence. He looked in the mirror again. The face that stared back at him was surprisingly hard and haunted. This was no longer Terrance Grantham. This was Brick, the assassin. A codename he’d chosen for himself in his reckless youth. Now his forever name.

  This was it. The day he had dreaded. He was actually leaving. No goodbyes to his family, no indication that they would never see him again. It would be a mystery disappearance. Latrice’s first hint would be when he didn’t come home later today. Then she’d call his work to find that they’d never called him in and he’d never shown up. Worry would become panic. Police would be called. It would make no difference. By the time the hunt was underway he’d have blood on his hands, and there would be no turning back. His forged documents might have him under a different name every week. His prints and retinas weren’t in any system. “Missing” would eventually become “presumed dead” as the years wore on and and his family’s vain hope slowly, agonizingly dwindled. They didn’t deserve that, and he was sure he’d be damned for putting them through it. But the alternative was death for them all. He would protect them the only way they could.

  “Bastards,” he muttered. His one bitter consolation was that a good portion of his pay would go into the trust fund he’d established. Latrice and Naomi would never want for anything again.

  Except him.

  Brick felt for the hidden catch on the medicine cabinet and swung the whole unit away from the wall. In a secret compartment was an immaculate black suit, some keys, a handgun, a runeband, and an ornate ruby ring. The runeband marked him as a Rune Bulwark: two resilience runes and one might.

  The ring was a standalone artifact. It didn’t grant powers directly to the wearer, but it was extremely, suspiciously useful. He wasn’t sure why Double M had chosen him to wear it, but he wouldn’t complain so long as it got him out of more trouble than it got him in.

  He placed the ring on his left middle finder and gave it a quick test, mentally setting it to its minimum area. A glowing red translucent disc the size of a dinner plate appeared in front of his fist. He tapped the outer surface, finding it solid as metal, then he reached his hand right through the disc from behind. The one way shield transferred almost no force to his body from objects that struck it. It wouldn’t obscure his vision, and he could freely shoot or punch through it. Combined with the natural resistance and power of his runeband, he would have the upper hand against many full sorcerers.

  Once he had dressed, putting his nightclothes in the same bag as his shaved hair for later disposal, he took a few minutes to study his transformation. The loving father was gone. He looked hard, dangerous. Once he had aspired to this. He doubted anyone could regret a decision more.

  Making his way slowly and quietly down the hallway, he looked in on Latrice one last time, followed by Naomi. He froze.

  In the light of Naomi’s nightlight he could see that her eyes were open. No. She’d seen him. Would she ask where he was going, dressed all funny? Would she not recognize his cleanshaven face and scream? Either way, that was it. He couldn’t bear to lie to her, scare her, or watch her heart break before his very eyes. He’d sweep her up and hold her tight, tell her that he was sorry, that everything was all right, and that he would never let go of her for the rest of his life. And he wouldn’t. The kill squad would find him still hugging her.

  Her eyes snapped shut, and her arms wrapped tightly around her favorite stuffed bunny. Oh, by the Shones. She had opened her eyes in her sleep. She hadn’t actually seen him. Brick took a moment to gather himself, wiping tears away, trying not to audibly sob. Then he slowly made his way through the kitchen. He paused one more time, seeing a photo on the refrigerator.

  It was the three of them at an amusement park on one of the outer quads of level 6. They’d had to save almost a year for that small vacation. Brick could have found a better job, but he’d been forced to take only positions that required him to be on call 24/7, a cover for his secret life. Naomi was grinning, her cheeks, lips, and even teeth blue with cotton candy. Latrice was also shining, triumphantly holding up the very bunny Naomi was currently sleeping with, a prize from a game booth. Latrice had asked if they could have another baby during that trip. He promised they could, soon.

  As it turned out, that was a lie.

  Screw it, he thought, and he snatched the photo and carefully tucked it away in the inside pocket of his suit jacket. He wasn’t supposed to take any mementos, leave any sign that he knew he wouldn’t come back. But Shones damn them. They owed him this. They owed him his whole life back.

  Brick took in one more breath of his home. He thought he caught a whiff of that lilac perfume Latrice loved. He silently left the apartment and locked the deadbolt behind him.

  Was there any other choice? Could he just grab his family and run? No. that had been one of his earliest lessons. The “off the leash” exercise. Ostensibly it had been for training. A long simulated mission in which he and a group of other yearling trainees had to flee a group of pursuing agents into a real city. They could use any stealth and beguiling tactic they knew to hide their trail. They could take on an alias or earn protection from a local crime lord. They could flee the city, even the country. If, after a three day head start, they could keep their tails from finding them for a week, they’d win.

  Simple.

  No one had won the exercise. Everyone had been found. Everyone.

  That was the lesson. There was no escape.

  At least, he hadn’t found one then. But there was a paradox there, wasn’t there? No organization had unlimited assets. Especially assets to keep their other assets in line. If there was a way out, he’d find it. But for now, as much as he loathed it, he’d do what he was asked.

  Brick, sleeper agent of the Garrison, had been activated.

  There was a sleek black sedan already parked next to his old beat up lemon in the apartment parking lot. His key from the bathroom fit the lock, and he drove away.

  The supply point was a gas and charging station several cells away and a couple of sublevels up. He pulled around to the back of the apparently closed station, and a middle aged man in a ballcap hurried out, carrying two briefcases in one hand and a laptop bag in the other. He opened the back door and slid the briefcases into the back seat, then handed Brick the laptop bag through his open window.

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  “Sorcerer Brick.” He saluted awkwardly.

  “Two crew cases?” Brick raised an eyebrow. “I just got activated, bra. This is my first mission! You serious?”

  “There’s more.” He dashed back inside the Employees Only door and emerged a moment later with a garment bag, a gun belt that held a second holstered sidearm, and an ammo case. “You’ll need to pick your partner up. The address is in your mission briefing.”

  “Ok. Anything else?”

  “There’s one more thing.” He glanced around nervously, and his voice dropped to a whisper. “Pull up closer to the building.”

  Bemused, Brick pulled forward, then backed up until he was almost blocking the employee door. The man was much more nervous this time, looking all around as he emerged with a third, larger briefcase. While this new case was hardsided, it had a round bowl-shaped bulge built into one side, as if it were molded to some large object inside. This went into the back seat with the regular crew cases.

  “What the hell is that thing?” Brick hissed.

  The man shushed him, though he hadn’t been overly loud. “Hell if I know! It’s in the briefing! Just get it out of here!” He vanished back into the station without another word.

  Brick opened the laptop, plugged his credentials in, submitted to a retina scan, and skimmed the mission briefing. The strange crew case was practically a footnote. For a moment he’d been afraid it was some sort of bomb. It wasn’t, but what little the briefing said didn’t do much to make him more comfortable. It was some sort of special contingency, to be used only if the mission was in jeopardy. That, combined with double crew cases, meant this first mission was much higher profile than he’d been expecting.

  Brick scrolled up to his partner’s profile. This, if anything, was even more unnerving than the oversized case.

  What the hell? What the actual hell?

  He knew he’d be keeping company with some pretty evil and messed up people from now on. He accepted that. It was part of the job.

  He hadn’t expected to be teamed up with an actual serial killer.

  “Now this. This is something special,” said one of the orderies. He was giving another younger orderly, perhaps a new one, a tour of the hospital. “A real treat. You’re about to meet a legend, kid.”

  Gwiyeon Ma, better known as Mantis, was barely five feet tall. She had to pull herself up to look out of the tiny barred window of her cell. She grinned as she confirmed the voice she had heard. It was Marcus.

  Dear, dear Marcus.

  [You should kill him,] said the Destroyer.

  ?I’m going to,? she thought back.

  The younger orderly swallowed. “The Mantis?”

  “The one and only. Killed fourteen people before she was caught. All men, all lovers. All beheaded, and no one has ever found the weapon she used.”

  “And she’s killed more people since she got locked up here?”

  “Well, she had a couple of stops before she ended up here. But yeah, she’s killed three more men since getting committed. Two were employees and one was another patient. So far there hasn’t been an incident here at the Dimna Institute.” He made eye contact with Mantis, and his cocky grin widened. “Ain’t that right, little lady?”

  She smiled back. Only three? That number was about to increase. She’d gotten the call. Her ride was on the way.

  [Kill the other one too.] the Destroyer said. [Kill all of them. Health is at 100%. Aethervoir is at 100%. You are ready. Kill them all.]

  ?Now now,? she said. ?I’m supposed to show restraint. I’ll kill whoever else I meet on my way out who’s on my list. And anyone who tries to stop me, of course. Get ready.?

  The Destroyer was unsatisfied, but it started routing aether to efficiently enhance her body as well as prepare her other skills. The strange lecti was always frustrated and oddly bewildered that it couldn’t goad her to even greater heights of bloodlust. Mantis often wondered if that was exactly the reason this artifact had been assigned to her.

  “All it takes is discipline,” Marcus continued, strolling toward her door. “We have to teach her a lesson now and then, don’t we?” He punctuated the word “lesson” by slamming the bars with the back of his fist, just barely avoiding bloodying her nose. Mantis fell backward, giggling, playing the good little mental patient.

  She’d been grooming Marcus for weeks. It was a technique she’d perfected after much trial and error. Men like him, arrogant but insecure, were putty in her hands. Looking for something they could control. Like a skinny, harmless looking woman. It took a well balanced combination of flirting, defiance, and feigned weakness. The flirting would draw them, the insults would anger them, and a quick moment of cowering was all it took to make them believe she was all bluster. That she was just a silly little girl waiting to be taught a lesson.

  Just like her father had once thought.

  The first time, she’d done it to protect herself. Later, she’d done it for revenge. But at some point the anger had faded. She couldn’t even make herself feel it anymore. She had decided to keep it up anyway. That was when it had become a game.

  “Lovers?” That was a cruel joke. But that was ok. She was in on it. She knew the punchline. Another week or two and Marcus probably would have tried. It wasn’t easy to have her fun in a place like this, but it was hardly impossible. Many of the nurses and orderlies were boring, all caring and kind and shit. But some, some sought these jobs for darker reasons. Marcus was one of those, she could tell. He probably thought Mantis’s reputation was overblown. That she’d gotten lucky, or that those who came before him were weak and stupid. He was about to learn differently.

  “Hey!” Marcus shouted, shaking Mantis from her thoughts. “What the hell have you done in there?”

  Mantis glanced over her shoulder. Oh, right. The hole in the wall. It was where her secret phone and amulet had been hidden. The amulet was bonded to her and she could recall it at will, but she’d needed to get the phone out the hard way so she could read it. Her bed and floor were covered in mortar and plaster, and a cinderblock had been shattered and pulled out in pieces.

  She shrugged up at Marcus as she got to her feet. “Making a mess, asshole. What’s it look like?”

  “Damn it to hell! Danny, get security!” She heard a quiet ratcheting sound as Marcus pulled his retractable badge to swipe through the door lock.

  After a moment Marcus flung the door open and stood looming in the doorway. “All right, bitch. Where’d you go? Where the hell did you go?”

  Mantis smirked from her position as he looked around the room. There was nowhere to hide, of course. She’d be easy to spot under the bed or the sheets, and the hole in the wall was far too small to crawl into. He peeked into it anyway, now frantic.

  He didn’t even think to look up.

  “You shouldn’t have brought him here.”

  Marcus slowly turned and spotted her clinging to the ceiling above the door. His expression was furious. “Get down from there, bitch! What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Danny. You shouldn’t have brought him along.”

  “Boss?” a voice echoed down the hallway. Danny was already on his way back.

  Mantis pulled her right arm away from the wall with a crackling sound. Bits of ice fell away. Marcus’s eyes widened. Perhaps he had also noticed the amulet glowing around her neck, even though she had mostly tucked it into her pajama top.

  “W-why?” Marcus said, backing away. His cocky face grew paler by the moment.

  He was about to find out firsthand how she killed so many men. He was about to learn why there was never a weapon to be found.

  [Ice Mantis Claw activated, right hand only. Aethervoir is at 99%.]

  Ice encased Mantis’s right hand. Then it grew, extending away from her body, and curved back to form a joint. It resolved into a pair of narrow blade-like surfaces with jagged spikes running along the inside.

  “You shouldn’t have brought him,” Mantis said, her voice now a sadistic hiss, “because now he’s going to have to watch this.”

  There was a gurgling scream.

  There was a ripping noise.

  There was a hum of overhead lights and a trickling sound, like water spilled on a counter and slowly dripping to the floor.

  Danny stopped several feet away from Mantis’s door, hands on his knees, out of breath. He was flanked by two security guards armed with tasers. They all gaped in horror as a small shape stepped into the hallway.

  Mantis stared at them with a wild, sadistic grin. She brandished the icy claw on one hand. In her other, she was gripping Marcus’s severed head by the hair.

  “I guess it’s out now,” she said in a singsong tone. “The secret to The Mantis’s success.” She tossed the head down at their feet. Its mouth was open as if to scream. They recoiled in horror as its eyes moved. The neck hole was sealed by a cap of ice. The impact caused it to crack, and blood seeped out.

  “I love doing that,” she said as she stalked toward the three of them. “The seal, I mean. Keeps them conscious for a few more seconds.” A second icy insect claw sculpted itself at the end of her left hand. “You.” She pointed at the leftmost guard. “You’re ok I guess. Start running.” To Danny, “You just got here so I don’t know. Run. But you.” The other guard had wet himself. Mantis let the silence linger for a moment. “You zapped me with that thing once. You’re dead.”

  Then she lunged, impossibly fast.

  [Skill Ice Mantis Claw has reached Tier 2 Level 16. Class Ice Destroyer Journeyman has reached Tier 3 Level 3. Kill them all.]