Haven

"One of the leaders of the Underground has been discovered and banished from the city," Praxis intoned over the loudspeakers.

Tess dropped the glass she was cleaning, but didn't register the shatter. Her eyes unfocused.

He's lying, he's lying, not Torn, Torn wouldn't let them take him, he wouldn't let them take the Shadow-

The whole bar held its breath, listening to the news. Men who had been drunkenly insulting each other a moment ago, off-duty KGs playing poker, Krew's mercs having a meeting in a dark booth-all were still and silent.

"Torn, the disgraced former KG commander, has been cast out into the Wastelands. No longer will that treasonous criminal poison our city," Praxis said. "Soon the rebels will be eradicated, along with the Metalheads, and Haven will be safe again. This is another victory for peace."

Tess knelt, ostensibly to pick up the shards of broken glass, and pressed her forehead against the back of the bar.

Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't blow your cover now. He needs you to be strong.

She picked up the glass slowly, threw it out, then popped back up behind the bar, trying to look like she was surprised, not devastated.

"Ey, Tess, could we get another round?" one of Krew's boys asked, breaking the silence. "That Beach Bomb brew, bottled, not draft."

"Of course." She rounded up six of the beers and put them on a tray, gamely gliding out to the booth.

"Bad news for us," another man said. "The Underground are some of our best clients."

Drax. Forger. Started out as a pickpocket in Dead Town.

"It ain't like he wiped out the whole outfit, Drax," another of the mercs said, snatching a bottle off of the tray and taking a long swig of his beer.

Finch. Muscle. Former boxer.

"Without him, they're doomed," said a third.

Oren. Procurement specialist. Can get you anything you need, legal or illegal.

Tess forced herself to walk away, unable to hover any longer without being suspicious. But she catalogued the conversation in her mind, and kept her ears open as she finished her shift.

She was wiping down the bar after a pair of chatty patrons had spilled their drinks when she heard the unmistakeable noise of Krew approaching. His wheezy breaths, the awful sound of flesh on flesh, and the tinny whirring of his hoverchair would have alerted anyone in the building.

"So, Tess, you heard the news, 'ey?" he asked casually, even though the both of them knew this wasn't a casual conversation.

"What news? About the Underground commander?" She kept cleaning, timing the pause until he spoke.

"Yes. Big shocker, ey? Bad for the rebels, I should think."

She decided it was time to look up, facing him with her patented 'dumb blonde' look.

"I heard he was a tough guy," she said. "But there are a lot of rebels, right? Someone else can have his job, can't they?"

"I suppose," Krew replied, following his answer with a phlegm-rich cough. "But mark my words, Tessy, this'll be bad for business."

"What do you mean?" she asked, scrunching her nose up.

"Don't worry your pretty little head about it, ey? I'll go to the back to check on a few orders."

She didn't watch him go, but she did keep an eye behind her for the rest of the night. She wasn't made, as far as she could tell, but she needed to keep it that way if she didn't want Krew gutting her like a fish.

Just as last call rolled around, Sig walked in. When their eyes met, Tess could feel the night's pressure crushing her; Sig looked as weary and crestfallen as she did.

"Hey there, Sig," she said, grunting as she hauled a lolling drunk out of a booth. "Here to see Krew?"

"Yeah." He nodded toward the man Tess was now holding up. "Need help?"

"Ugh, yeah, he's dead weight. Put him out on the curb, would you?"

He saluted. "Yes ma'am."

She finished ushering the last of the stragglers outside so she could lock up; Sig dumped the guy outside and made his way to the back, calling for Krew. When her boss emerged, Tess managed to smile.

"You need anything else before I go, Krew?"

He waved her off, and she left.

It took a long time to get to Underground HQ using the winding and indirect route she took, but there was no choice. She'd have to be on guard now more than ever-especially at this hour, when no one would be around to witness anything that might happen to her.

Doing a last check to make sure she hadn't been followed, she desended the steps into the hideout, bumping into a soldier at the bottom.

The place was packed.

Torn's officers appeared to be up at the front-she could hear their voices-and many of the rank and file seemed to have congregated too. She began shoving her way up toward's Torn's desk, a path forming as people realized who was jostling them.

The Shadow and Torn's four top officers were arguing over his desk. She saw Jak leaning against the wall behind them, blue eyes glassy and unfocused.

Oh, Jak.

Daxter was curled around his neck like a scarf, probably trying to comfort him. But she couldn't spare time to help them out yet; there was other work to be done.

"Nice of you to show up, Tess," said Merle, the officer who ran operations on the west side of the city. "Now that you're done playing kitchen at Krew's."

"I was doing my job," she said. "I'm a spy. I'm supposed to blend in and get intel, not run out, whitefaced, at the first sign of bad news."

Face reddening, Merle made to respond, but Samos put up a hand.

"Tess," he said, "how are people in the city taking the news?"

"Depends on the people," she replied. "But I think everyone out there agrees that the Underground is in trouble without Torn."

"Which is why we need to choose a new second-in-command," said Jethra, another one of the officers. "Shadow? Any thoughts?"

"Well, Torn had prepared for something like this, of course," the Shadow replied slowly. "And he did leave his recommendation for a replacement."

"Who was it?!" Merle demanded impatiently.

"Will you honor his choice? I, personally, think it was inspired," the shorter man said, and that was when Tess noticed how he was avoiding her gaze.

Oh, Precursors. Torn, what have you done?

"I will," said a soldier somewhere in the crowd around the desk. After he had spoken, assents rippled through the assembly. Tess felt that each murmur was another handful of dirt on her grave.

"Jethra, Merle, Lynx, Xavier?" He addressed the four remaining-and most important-soldiers. "Do you all agree to be bound by Torn's choice?" Tess closed her eyes.

Say no, say no. I can't.

Jethra nodded. "Whoever it is, the sooner they can get to work, the better." Xavier and Lynx nodded as she said it.

Merle eyed the Shadow. "Depends on who it is."

"Merle," Jethra snapped. "If it's not you, it's not you. Torn deserved his command; he deserves to choose who it should pass to next."

The man glared, and then looked down at the Shadow.

"I agree," he grumbled, grudgingly. "Only because I respected the hell out of the bastard."

"Excellent," the Shadow replied. "He asked that Tess be the one to take his position."

There was dead silence. Tess waited, but wasn't sure for what. Accusations that she had somehow tricked Torn, used her tits and her pretty face to get the job? That she wasn't qualified? That no one would respect her?

Jethra was the first to step forward. She offered her hand.

"Congratulations, Commander."