The air inside the Neon Spade was thick. It felt like a heavy blanket made of sweet smoke and the smell of old copper. Evan walked through the red carpet. It was deep and soft, like walking on moss. His new Shroud Suit felt cool against his skin, but his heart was a hot coal in his chest.The music was a low, thumping drum. Boom. Boom. Boom. It matched the beat of the city. It was the sound of millions of people losing their seconds so a few people could have centuries.Evan looked around. He saw the faces of the gamblers. Some were crying. Some were laughing like madmen. All of them were staring at the glowing machines, hoping for a miracle that would never come."Focus, Lord Silas," Marco’s voice whispered in his ear. The earpiece was tiny, hidden deep in Evan’s ear canal. "Don't look at the crowd. Look at the gold. We need a bigger stack before we hit the vault. The Pulse was just an appetizer. Move to the Vortex."Evan turned his head. In the center of the High-Stakes room was a g

The gold chips sat on the black stone table. They were shiny and cold. Evan looked at them. Then he looked at Jax. Jax was the man in the green velvet suit. Jax was not smiling anymore. His face was the color of a dead fish. He looked at the silver ball in the Zero slot. He looked at the Weaver, the dealer with the bird mask.The room was too quiet. The music had stopped. The gamblers at the other tables were staring. In a casino, people know when the air changes. The air was heavy now. It felt like a storm was about to break.Evan’s head throbbed. The purple light behind his eyes was dimming, but it was still there. He could see the numbers.[PROBABILITY OF ATTACK: 89%][SECURITY RESPONSE TIME: 45 SECONDS]Evan reached out his hand. He began to pull the chips toward him. His fingers were steady. He looked like Lord Silas. He looked like a man who was used to winning. But inside, he was screaming. He needed to get the vials of medicine and get out.Jax stepped forward. He put a hand o

The red numbers on Evan’s wrist were a scream he could not hear.[00:58:12]He was running. His boots hit the black mud of the South District. Every step felt like a hammer hitting a nail into his feet. Behind him, the Neon Spade was a hole in the ground, but he did not look back. He did not look at the shadows. He did not look for the man in the brown suit or the blue bicycle."Evan! Slow down!" Marco yelled.Marco was panting. He was covered in white flour and blue gin. He looked like a ghost that had been in a bar fight. He was carrying the bag of credit sticks. The black and gold sticks clattered together. It was the sound of a fortune. It was the sound of a life."I can't!" Evan screamed. He did not turn his head. "Look at my wrist, Marco! Look at the red!"Marco looked. He saw the bloody glow. His eyes went wide. He knew that color. Red was the color of the End. Red was the color the Bank used when it was finished with you."How?" Marco gasped, his voice thin from running. "You

"Maybe," Evan said. He walked to the door. He turned and looked back one last time. "But for the first time in my life, I'm the one who’s deciding when the clock stops."Evan walked out of the room.He found Marco in the hallway. Marco was leaning against a wall, his gun in his hand. He looked at Evan. He saw the look in Evan’s eyes."He's okay?" Marco asked."He’s stable," Evan said. "He has a year of medicine. Maybe more.""Good," Marco said. He stood up straight. "So, what’s the plan, Sunshine? We have thirty minutes. Do we go to a bar? Do we find a pretty girl? I know a place that sells real steak."Evan looked at Marco. He saw the flour on his jacket. He saw the bruise on his face."You've done enough, Marco," Evan said. "Go home. Take the rest of the credits. Buy a house. Start a business. Be the 'Independent Contractor' you always wanted to be."Marco stared at him. "You’re going to the Spire, aren't you?""I have to," Evan said."Without me?" Marco asked. He looked hurt. "We’r

The crowd had turned into a riot. People fought over the money. Evan and Marco slipped out through a vent. They had four thousand credits, but Evan’s nose had bled for an hour afterward.Now, it was the night of the third hit. The Iron Rose.It sat in the center of the district like a fortress. The walls were made of dark red stone. The entrance was a giant archway shaped like a flower. It was the most expensive place they had ever tried to rob."This is the big one," Marco said as they walked toward the gates. "The players here aren't factory workers. They are middle-managers from the Exchange. They are traders. They think they are smart."Evan adjusted his glasses. He felt the cold lead-paint on his skin. "Smart people are the easiest to read."They walked inside.The Iron Rose was beautiful. It was quiet. Instead of loud music, there was a woman playing a harp made of laser beams. The air smelled like old books and expensive tobacco."Table seven," Marco whispered. "Poker. Real car