The taxi came to a halt outside Beata and Asta’s apartment building. Emz flung the door open, leapt out, and sprinted towards the entrance. The door was open, its electronic lock disabled. He darted inside, bypassing the elevator for the stairs, his gun raised as he took the steps two at a time.

  By the time he reached the sixth floor, he burst through the fire exit, weapon raised. He aimed down the corridor towards their apartment. The scene stopped him in his tracks. Two men, riddled with bullets, were slumped against the wall opposite the apartment doorway. Pools of blood spread beneath them, soaking into the carpet tiles. Their mismatched tactical gear suggested no standard uniform, and discarded firearms lay nearby. Crimson splatter streaked the walls behind them, painting a gruesome picture.

  Moving cautiously, Emz crept forward, past the neighbour’s doorway, his focus fixed on Beata and Asta’s door ahead while his eyes darted briefly to the bodies. It was clear they were dead; their armour had shielded their torsos, but clean headshots had finished them. Reaching the open door, he pressed himself against the frame, keeping his gun close to his chest to minimise his target profile. He peered around the corner.

  Inside, the carnage continued. Another armoured body sprawled across the laminate flooring of the inner hallway, his head caved in, an automatic shotgun lying nearby. Leaning against the wall was Beata and Asta’s robot, shot to shit and offline. One metallic hand was smeared with blood, while the other still gripped a gun, its aim fixed on the men in the corridor. The robot’s tiara was gone, replaced with a bowler hat tilted at a jaunty angle, and a monocle hung absurdly from the remains of its faceplate.

  Emz stepped further into the apartment, his eyes sweeping the hallway for signs of movement. Seeing none, he advanced cautiously, his footsteps deliberate and quiet. Reaching Beata’s workroom, he saw the door slightly ajar. With his free hand, he nudged it all the way open and entered swiftly, his gun raised and ready.

  The only occupant was Beata, hunched over her workstation. Her wrinkled fingers flew across the keyboard in a flurry of frantic typing and clicking. The sound of Emz’s entrance startled her, and she spun around in her chair, her wide, frantic eyes locking onto him.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I was called. What the fuck happened? Where’s Asta?”

  Beata’s gaze flicked to the bloody chaos beyond the doorway. Realisation dawned, and she nodded faintly. “Ah, the robot must have called you. I forgot I programmed it to do that in emergencies.” Her usually composed voice wavered, and when her eyes returned to Emz, they glistened with unshed tears. “They took her. Hugo tried to stop them, but there were too many.”

  “Hugo?” Emz paused, then understood. “The robot... Who took Asta?”

  “I do not know.” Beata shook her head, panic edging into her tone. “Five men. They smashed the door in and came in shooting. They said I have twenty-four hours to deliver the code, or they will kill her.”

  At those words, she spun back to her workstation, her hands resuming their frantic pace. “I have to finish!” she cried desperately.

  “What code? What do they want you to do?”

  “A bypass of the DRAI protocols—the software and hardware robotic safeguards,” she replied without looking back, her voice tight. She gestured vaguely towards the hallway. “Like what I did with Hugo.”

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Emz glanced down the bloodied hallway again. “I thought you said that was a complex series of hacks and custom chips, a one-off just for your safety?”

  “It was, but they want a pure code version, something that can be used as a remote update.”

  “Fuck, no!” Emz grabbed her chair and spun her around to face him. “You can’t give these guys the ability to turn any robot anywhere into a killing machine. That’s endtimes shit!”

  “No, I need to save her!” Beata cried, struggling against him.

  Emz gripped her wrists tightly, his voice firm. “Beata, you cannot do this.”

  “I have to!” she answered, tears spilling over.

  “I’ll find her. I’ll bring her back, and I’ll kill these fuckers!”

  Beata’s lips trembled. “How? How will you find them?”

  He released her wrists and crouched slightly, lowering his voice. “How long ago did they leave?”

  She hesitated, thinking. “Minutes ago, just before you arrived.” Her eyes narrowed. “Did you not see them outside?”

  Emz straightened, his mind racing as he replayed his arrival. “No, I didn’t see anyone outside...” His thoughts clicked into place. He raised his wrist screen, pulled up Luki’s contact, and sent a voice message.

  “Luki, emergency! Get to this location right now. On your way, pull the video from my last taxi ride—I’ll send the details. Look for a van or multiple cars in convoy leaving this area just as I was arriving. Drop everything and fucking hurry!” He quickly forwarded the ride details.

  Beata watched him, her brow furrowed. “How do you know they were in a van or multiple cars?”

  Emz gave her a determined look. “You said there were at least five of them, and they came to kidnap Asta. That’s not a one-car job.”

  “Oh... right.” Beata nodded faintly, her mind clearly scrambled. She turned back to her workstation, muttering, “I have to try...”

  “Beata, don’t send them anything,” Emz warned.

  She didn’t reply.

  “Can you even do it?”

  Beata paused. “I do not know,” she whispered, fear lacing her voice. “But I have to try.”

  Emz sighed and moved to her cabinet of weapons. “I’m taking some gear.”

  Beata didn’t respond.

  Opening the metal cabinet, Emz scanned the selection—handguns on the top rack, compact submachine guns below. He found a black nylon duffel bag under her workbench and began loading it with weapons and ammo. His eyes lingered on a powerful SIG P400MAX, Idrissa Bamba’s preferred weapon, a hired mercenary and frenemy. He tucked it into the bag.

  He also pulled out a bulky mobile gun cradle from another cabinet. “Beata, I’m taking this.” Still no response. He shoved it into the bag.

  His wrist screen beeped—Luki was close.

  “Beata, I’m going. I’ll find her. Don’t send anything until you hear from me.”

  She nodded slightly.

  “Beata,” he said firmly. “If you send them the code, they’ll kill her anyway. They don’t need her alive once they have what they want. This is for something really fucking bad, it’s terrorism level shit.”

  Tears spilled down her cheeks as she stared blankly at her workstation.

  “Your neighbour will have called the police. You need to get out of here.”

  Beata shook her head. “There is no neighbour. I rent the other apartment on this floor for privacy. It is where Asta’s family stays when they visit…” Her voice cracked. “I will call cleaners for the bodies.”

  Emz gritted his teeth. “Don’t send anything until you check with me first,” he repeated.

  She nodded again.

  “I’ll get her back,” Emz promised, gripping her shoulder briefly before dashing into the hallway.

  At the bodies, he paused to strip the armoured vest from the man with the crushed skull, clipping it over his torso. He took some photos of the bodies and stuffed all the guns into the duffel bag before sprinting down the stairwell and out of the building, jumping into Luki’s van waiting at the kerbside.