In the early 1990s, a terrorist group calling themselves 'The anarchists' attacked over 40 targets across the world simultaneously. It represented the worst failure of security in history, and the death toll quickly reached the thousands.

Two years later, the Anarchists were still at large, and virtually unopposed. In response, the first world summit was called, resulting in the Global Anti-Terrorist Taskforce, or GATT. An unprecedented level of co-operation was poured into the task force, and it was funded and supported by over 150 countries. Their mission? To exterminate the terrorist group.

Within 2 months, the Anarchists were dealt with for good. Shocking what a couple of trillion dollars and access to almost every camera on the planet could do. Over the next few years, the task force continued to prove it's worth. Several major terrorist attacks were prevented, including an attempt on the world trade towers. Given the success, a second global summit was called, this one with even more far-reaching impact. Not just peace, but the unification of all countries involved in a single government. This was not a task undertaken lightly, and 14 years later problems were still being ironed out.

In many ways, the situation improved for millions. Pooled funding ensured there was always money when it was needed, and the ability to deploy aid services without borders meant a large portion of the world was being cleaned up in short order.

The formation of the newly dubbed UWC, or United World Coalition, made several organizations redundant. The combining and updating of various intelligence agencies and special forces created the United Tactical Assault Corps, U-TAC. Better equipped, better trained, and better funded, U-TAC quickly took the world by storm. Active in every country on the globe, they were the steel fist hiding behind the velvet glove.

Nobody wanted a visit from U-TAC. The new tactics and equipment provided to the special forces eventually bled through to the standard police force, better enabling them to protect and serve…

Excerpt from 'A Short History of the Modern World' by Carl Abbot.

-0-0-0-

Kehre did his best to ignore the cold sweat trickling down his spine. Everything was under control. Totally normal person here, no reason to look twice.

As much as he liked to think he was cool and calm under pressure, the shear stress of acting normal with all this going on would have gotten to a coma patient. More drones he had ever seen before in his life were performing regular sweeps, leaving no stone unturned.

He copied the actions and expressions of the people around him as well as possible, trying his best to look like a normal person staring at the flashing lights and drones whizzing around everywhere. What did normal people look like, anyway? He had to resist the urge to guiltily drop his head and avoid eye contact. He really wasn't cut out for this kind of thing. Give him back his quiet, uneventful heist, please.

If he made it out of this one, he'd turn his life around. He'd be willing to swear it on any bible you'd care to give him. 'Course, he'd probably steal the bible, but that was just a habit at this point.

He pulled out his phone and navigated to the relevant news websites. Nothing new, but it made him look busy - which was what mattered at this point.

He looked up just in time to have a heart attack. In the few seconds he'd taken to check his phone, four cops had started to head towards the cafe he was in.

He had no idea what kind of alarms he had tripped with his stunt with the safe, but whatever had happened it had stirred the police into a frenzy. In the harrowing trip escape, he'd barely avoided no less than three squads.

It was a miracle he hadn't been caught, pure luck rather than skill that had gotten him past the patrols. Unfortunately, the police hadn't been willing to let it go and had started expanding the search radius. With dozens of cameras lining the streets at strategically random intervals, avoiding them all was impossible. He'd managed to get this far thanks to weeks of careful preparation and a healthy dose of paranoia, but beyond this street was completely unknown to him.

He'd spotted the café by chance and figured nobody would suspect the thief of stopping for a quick croissant in the middle of an escape. Speaking of, this was an incredible croissant.

He kept his slightly hysterical chuckles to himself. It would be a spectacularly lame way to get caught after everything – laughing at his own jokes.

The police reached the door, and two of them stepped in. The other pair were standing outside the door, and the faint hope he'd nurtured of sprinting past them died a horrible death. Ironically, he had no issue relaxing now that there was no way out.

One of the officers caught his eye, and he nudged the incriminating backpack further under the table with a nervous grin.

The officer's partner spoke up, drawing the attention of the room. "Ladies and gentlemen, sorry to interrupt your morning like this. We've received word that there may have been a gas leak in the streets nearby and have established a police cordon for your safety. Please do not take photos, and steer clear of the area. You may see some more drones in the area than usual, but this is nothing to worry about. Thank you for your corporation."

Kehre sagged back into his seat, more surprised by the lame excuse than the fact that he was practically home free. They honestly expected people to believe a dozen Overseer drones were needed for a gas leak of all things?

Judging by the placid looks on his fellow diners' faces; they would have believed anything up to and including a sudden alien invasion in suburban London. Idiots.

The officers left the café, moving on to the next building on the street.

He wondered for a second about whether it was suspicious to leave now, before deciding he didn't want to tempt fate and turned instead to catch the waiter's attention. May as well have a coffee and a cake while he waited for his legs to stop shaking.

-0-0-0-

Kehre slumped tiredly against the door of his apartment, fumbling to find the right key. He'd sprung for an express cab to the opposite end of town, where he'd spent an anxious few hours at the local library in an attempt to establish some sort of alibi. It may be paper-thin, but claiming he'd forgotten about meeting a date on the other end of town sounded better than nothing.

After that, he'd taken so many different trains and busses even he had no idea where he'd ended up. And then he had to walk all the way home, doing his best to avoid anything that even looked like a camera.

Opening the door, he staggered inside. A vaguely musty smell greeted him, emanating from a pile of clothes he would get around to washing any day now. Picking his way through the rubble consisting of takeout containers, illuminated by the dim light of a filthy window, he collapsed in his creaky single bed. Throwing an arm over his eyes to block out the cracked ceiling, he tried to get his thoughts in some semblance of order.

No two ways about it, he'd stuffed up big time. As far as he knew, the owners of the house he'd just robbed hadn't been anybody particularly important, certainly not important enough to warrant the kind of response he'd seen back there. The safe had been completely taken out by the EMP, he was certain of it. There was almost no way it could have gotten a signal off, and even if it had it would have warranted a single squad car, two at the most. He'd been casing that house for weeks, there was no way he'd missed a secondary security system or anything like that.

Even if nobody could pin it on him, this kind of heat didn't go away fast. He'd have to lie low for at least a few weeks, maybe even a month.

Could it have been a coincidence? He sat up at the thought. That would be the best-case scenario. If it had nothing to do with him, he could get back in business much sooner. He'd have to take precautions of course, but he usually did anyway. This was worth looking into.

He moved over to sit in his faded computer chair, booting up the aging machine on the desk as he did so. A few clicks got him on to the UWC news site. After taking over the vast majority of all news outlets years ago, it was pretty much the only place to get information.

'Overseer Drone Disabled – Possible Terrorist Action?' the flashing breaking news headline read. His stomach flipped as he skimmed the article.

'An Overseer drone on routine patrol was disabled today just outside Kensington, London. Police are still investigating but suspect possible terrorist action. No groups have come forward as of yet, but this represents a worrying new phase of criminal behavior. Are the Overseer and Watcher drones no longer capable of protecting us? Senator Michael Banks is urging the council to consider allocating more money to the research and development of new technology. He stands at the forefront of the…'

Kehre stopped reading, a sick feeling spreading through him. This was bad. No, this was worse than bad, this was catastrophic. The stupid EMP was too damn good at its job. It hadn't just taken out the safe, it had taken out a nearby drone as well.

The development of drone technology had completely changed the way the legal system operated. It had solved all accusations of police brutality in one fell swoop, as each drone was governed by strict programming. 'There is no bias, there is only the law' as the popular infomercials proclaimed. Mortality rates had dropped to nearly nothing overnight, and the drones quickly became an integral part of the police force. Most of the day to day patrolling had been taken over by the machines, but it wasn't just the police that had changed.

The military was the other big buyer of the machines. The last three wars had been fought and won without a single death on either side. They were being used to put down uprisings all over the world.

They were supposed to be infallible. And, until Otto's little device had come alone, they were. Sure, you could take one down with enough firepower, but being able to disable them at range with the push of a button? The little device Kehre was turning over in his hands had the potential to change everything. No wonder the police were freaking out.

He sighed to himself, sinking back into his chair. Nothing he could do about it now, short of turning himself in. Hopefully, it would all blow over soon.

-0-0-0-

Kehre rolled off his bed to the sound of his neighbor's alarm clock. 5 in the morning was too early to be alive, let alone awake, but the thin walls left him little choice.

Others may be able to nap away the day, but once he was awake, that was it. He had to be doing something, or he felt like he was going backwards. A remnant of his younger years on the street, where the ones that wasted time died first.

He absently rubbed the pale thin scar that ran the length of his right elbow to his wrist, a nervous tick he'd never quite managed to get rid of. Another remnant of those years, he'd been lucky to survive receiving it. It had taught him not to trust easily though, a lesson well worth the price.

Tossing some leftover Chow Mein in the microwave, he pulled the backpack from yesterday on to the small table. Time to see if the whole thing had been worth the trouble.

Opening it up, he pulled out… a smaller backpack – the only thing he'd managed to grab before bolting. In the few seconds he'd had, he had seen several sheaves of paper, and what looked like jewelry boxes, but they would have probably been locked – and identifiable to boot. The backpack was clearly meant to be grabbed in a pinch, and being as it was stored in a safe, could well contain something valuable.

He tugged the zipper open, pulling the contents out and methodically laying them out on the table. The first thing on the top of the bag was a zip-lock bag containing several passports and photocopies of drivers licenses. Probably useless, but he wasn't in the habit of throwing anything out.

The next out of the bag was everything he had hoped for and more. 6 fat wads of cash were bound together. A quick count told him each wad was a grand of cold hard cash. Kehre didn't bother suppressing the wide smile stretching across his face. 6 thousand dollars may not sound like much, but for him, it was nearly two months worth of profits. He may take things worth more than that from any given house, but after selling it to the market, or finding an independent intermediary, he usually only actually saw a fraction of it.

Slightly depressing that the underworld took more in taxes than even the government, but the advantage was that nothing could be traced back to him. The only sales he handled personally were once off things, like alcohol or cigarettes to rich kids. It worked out better for him to do those himself, as it added to his reputation without blowing it out of proportion. Plus, almost anybody could get a hold of those things, and while it was illegal, it didn't carry a prison sentence.

The money wasn't quite worth the scrutiny from the police that would follow, and he would definitely have to lay low for quite a while, but it went a long way to soften the blow. Crossing the room, he pulled hard on an electrical socket half-hidden behind the couch. The socket popped off to reveal the inside of the wall, as well as some exposed wires. He carefully reached around the wires, blindly feeling for the plastic bag. Pulling it out into the light, he added the funds in his hand to those already there. Almost 10 000 dollars in small bills, along with a single high-denomination cred-chip. The result of almost three years saving, it represented the best chance he had of getting out of this hell-hole.

It wasn't cheap to get out of the country, and ten thousand didn't take you as far as it used to. He probably needed at least 4 times that amount to even leave, let alone set up a new life. He sighed to himself, aware of how long it would take. Replacing the bag and socket, he moved back to the table.

The last thing in the backpack was a plain black box. About the size of a thick novel, it had an unusual heft to it. A thin seam split the top of the box in half, but there was no obvious lock or handle.

Clearly, it was designed to be opened with an identity card, but without that, it would take some specialized tools. By the feel of it, and the safe it was found in, it would be a tough nut to crack.

Kehre held it up to his ear, shaking hard. Something loose rattled around in it, along with the sound of… paper? Kehre frowned to himself. They must be some pretty important documents to bother locking them up so securely. He huffed a disappointed breath. Whoever the owner was, he wouldn't be likely to leave his identity card lying around, and unless he could find an override, he wasn't about to open it any time soon.

As much as he hated leaving a puzzle unsolved, he had to get going. He had a buyer for one of his bottles of brandy, and it wasn't the kind of deal Kehre could back out of. Not to say the buyer was some bigshot or anything, but he had a reputation to uphold. It wasn't like he could take an ad out in the paper, everything he did was built off word of mouth. If he failed even a single delivery, people would talk. He really couldn't afford that, not now that his main source of income was temporarily frozen.

-0-0-0-

The buyer wasn't far away, and the skies were clear for once, so Kehre spent the pleasant 10-minute walk thinking about what he was going to do with his time off. It was fairly rare for him to have any downtime between jobs, as he usually badly needed the money. This time, however, he had no choice but to lay low, and the next house he had in mind would be occupied by the time he was back in the game.

He would have to find a new job to pull, which was more of an issue. He had a few… 'friends' who worked at the travel agency, and they would let him know if anybody in his area was going away.
Unfortunately, the golden years of traveling were well and truly over. Nobody went anywhere these days, baring a weekend trip to the beach or the country.

He'd have to find an alternative. Something he could do that didn't rely on other people leaving. Maybe breaking into a hotel room or something? He considered the idea for a minute or two before dismissing it. Getting into the hotel would be easy, but people generally didn't take any incredibly valuable things with them to a hotel.

Maybe he could join up with another group? He'd worked with some other people before to pull off a job that was too big for him alone. It had worked out fairly well, all things considered. He had gotten his fair share, and there wasn't any double-crossing or anything like that. There still wasn't honor among thieves or anything like that, but everybody did their part to make sure the police didn't catch wind of anything. There was strength in numbers and anonymity in a crowd. Kehre was being used as an intermediary for several other people and was using others as intermediaries himself.

It was a calculated risk, involving other people in something like this, but the benefits far outweighed the risks. Kehre had made it clear to everyone he knew that he didn't want to get caught up in delivering drugs or anything illegal, but that was more to cover himself than anything else. You couldn't afford to have too developed a sense of morals in this world.

Arriving at the park, he stared for a second. A middle-aged man stood in the center of the park, looking exactly like he was about to do something illegal. Wringing his hands, trying to look in every direction at once, shifting in place. It was frankly a miracle the cops hadn't arrested him on the spot.

Shaking his head, Kehre walked up casually behind the man.

"Mr. Smith?" he called as gently as he could, not wanting to send the man to an early grave. Mr. Smith, or whatever his real name was, jerked as if he had been shot.

"W-What?"

"Are you Mr. Smith? Here for the sale?" Kehre inquired politely.

The man glanced around again as if expecting a U-TAC team to have risen from the ground since he had last looked.

"Y-yes, that's me." He glanced around again. "D-do you have… the goods?"

Kehre manfully resisted the urge to sigh.

"Yes, I have the brandy right here. Now, before we go any further, I am legally obligated to ask if you have a permit for the purchase of alcohol?"

The man looked confused.

"No, I don't have a permit. I thought I wouldn't need one?"

"Are you… sure you don't have a permit? Perhaps you've simply forgotten?"

The man looked even more confused.

"N-no I don't have a permit."

Kehre closed his eyes in exasperation. "Well, then I'm afraid I can't sell to you."

He spun on his heel and begun to walk away. If the guy was too stupid to read between the lines, it was better to call it off.

"Wait!" The man called out from behind. "I… I just remembered that I do have a permit."
Kehre turned back around. "Excellent. Do you happen to have it on you?"

"No, I… I left it at home by accident."

Kehre faked a look of consternation. "Well, normally I wouldn't do something like this, but you seem like a trustworthy guy… Tell you what. How about you take this now, and we'll talk about the permit later. Sound good?"

Normally he wouldn't spell it out quite as much – plausible deniability was important after all – but this guy seemed stupid enough to not get it.

Mr. Smith looked relieved, shoving a wad of cash into Kehre's hands before scurrying away. He'd probably get caught within two blocks, considering how he was hunched over the bottle furtively. The police would probably think it was a bomb or something with how nervous he was acting. Kehre shrugged philosophically to himself.

The main reason he had chosen this park was that there were no security cameras in it. Even if there were, he'd covered himself with his little spiel back there – at least enough to get away with only a fine. The police couldn't throw you in jail for being a little trusting, after all. And there were only restrictions on owning alcohol, not selling it, which was stupid now that he thought about it.

Whatever. He'd done his part, nobody could accuse him of flaking on a job anymore. He looked down at the cash in his hands. Heh, looks like the guy had overpaid. Maybe he'd get himself a pie on the way home.

He paused for a moment before reluctantly turning on his heel, heading off in another direction. May as well use his newfound wealth to get some other, much less savory types off his back. Heh, savory. He really did want that pie.

As he walked, the pleasant buildings, parks, and clean streets were replaced with darker looking walls, dirty streets, and dying plants. This was not a slow or subtle transition either, taking place over about 2 blocks. For all the vaunted progress the UWC had introduced the rest of the world, society's worst problems still lurked in all the usual places.

Poverty and crime were about what they had been 10 years ago, countries that lacked food and water still lacked them, and wars were still waged across the world. Certainly, the wars generally didn't involve casualties anymore, but billions of dollars were poured into drones and tanks, to say nothing of the research and development involved.

Ignoring the looks he was getting from the residents around him, he strode towards the dark and menacing mouth of a nearby alleyway. As he went, he demeanor started to shift. His stride became longer, more confident. He held his head higher, looking down the length of his nose slightly, disgusted by the state of the area he found himself in. In the space of a few steps, he became the very picture of arrogance.

This was an unfortunate necessity in his line of work. Image was everything. While most of the underworld existed in an uneasy state of alliance against the government, it certainly didn't mean they liked each other. Weakness was preyed upon, and strength was respected and avoided in equal measure. It didn't matter that Kehre felt the weight of the stares on him, it didn't matter that he was completely unarmed.

All they saw was a confident man strolling casually down a street filled with people twice his size. They knew he had been in the game for at longer than most of them could remember, and most didn't look past those two facts.

If they had, they would know that the only reason he had lasted as long as he had was that he was about as small-time as was possible. Nobody could remember anyone crossing him because nobody had ever bothered.

Not even bothering to check if he had someone following him, (because he was so arrogant, look at him go) he continued down the alleyway.

He pounded twice on a plain steel door, only remarkable because it lacked the graffiti that marked the rest of the wall around it. He had always had his suspicions that the authorities knew about this place, but let it go because at least they knew where it was. The darker underside of the city wouldn't go away because you shined a light on it, but it would scurry away to hide again. At least this way they knew where to look if something happened to disrupt the careful balance.

On the second knock, the door opened soundlessly to reveal a brightly lit interior. Nobody knew just where Otto was getting the money to pay for a place like this, but nobody was quite brave enough to ask him either. In this world, people who could afford to waste money on making a place look clean and professional were to be feared, avoided, or sucked up to. It didn't matter that the person in question couldn't be older than 16, he was dangerous.

Ironic that thieves and low-lives were so progressive when it came to equality. Age, gender, ethnicity didn't matter, only cunning, skill, and money talked here.

An imposing wall of muscle blocked the path. The man in question lowered his glasses at Kehre and grunted darkly.

"Kehre. Don't need to tell you the rules. Any weapons in the basket, and trouble and you won't be around to make more." His scowl gained depth. "Is there going to be trouble?"

Kehre laughed. While most would be intimidated, he was no newbie and had known Bob Jr for years. He was a scary-looking dude, no doubt about it, but he was a softie at heart.

"You know me, Bob, I never make trouble!" He said ingratiatingly.

Bob Jr wasn't impressed, shoving him lightly down the corridor.

"Get moving. You still owe him money, remember?"

Kehre rolled his eyes, some of the cheer fading from his frame. "Why'd you have to bring up business? You know I hate talking about money."

Bob grunted again, packing an impressive amount of meaning into the sound.

"You only hate talking about it because you never have any of it."

Kehre shrugged ruefully, not contesting the point.

They walked in silence down the corridor until they arrived at another metal door.

This one was significantly more imposing than the last, and about twice the size as well. It was a dull, burnished metal that practically dared anyone to try getting through.

Neither of them bothered doing anything once they reached the door, standing there in vaguely awkward silence. Finally, just as Kehre was about to say something for the sheer sake of it, the door swung open.

The room behind the door was simple and much smaller than one would expect considering what it was – the nerve center of the black market. Everything that was bought or sold passed through this room at some point, and too many deals to count had been struck over the simple table in the middle.

Kehre didn't bother looking around as he approached the simple but sturdy table, merely pulling out a wooden chair and sitting. The walls and floor were bare, featureless grey concrete. The only interesting thing in the room was sitting in a comfortable chair at the other end of the table.

Otto. The teenager that appeared one day on the underworld scene, taking it over with spooky swiftness. Nobody was quite sure how it happened, but one day word got around that anything you wanted to sell or buy could be found at this location. Most of the miscreants shrugged and accepted it, and those that didn't mysteriously 'went on vacation'.

Ignoring the slightly ridiculous image of hardened criminals deferring to somebody whose feet barely reached the ground when he sat down, it was a remarkably normal process. Almost professional.

Otto quickly gained a reputation for fairness and discretion, as well as an ability to procure almost anything your heart desired – as long as you had the cash for it. He also had a reputation for terrifying ruthlessness. The only people to ever cross him never got the chance to regret it.

Kehre's face split into a smile, the kind a car salesmen wore when he was about to close a deal.

"Otto! Buddy, it has been too long. What's new?"

Otto's expression didn't shift at all, yet still managed to convey a feeling of distaste.

"Kehre. As always, it is a… unique pleasure"

Kehre laughed loudly, showing rather more teeth than was strictly necessary. Any hint of weakness in this place would be pounced on in an instant, no matter how small.

"Now Otto, don't be like that! I have presents for you…" He crooned mockingly.

Otto raised a single eyebrow.

"Fine, fine. I'll get to the point." Kehre pouted. "I…" he trailed off dramatically, waiting for the flash of exasperation to cross Otto's face before continuing, "am here to pay off the rest of my debt." He finished in a rush.

Otto's eyebrow lowered to its usual place.

"That is… unusually ahead of schedule for you Kehre. Are you feeling quite okay?"

Kehre put a hand to his chest dramatically, gasping.

"You wound me with your words, my friend. Fortunately for you, I have thick skin. And an excellent complexion, but that's beside the point."

"Kehre, as amusing as you sometimes are, my tolerance for your jokes has its limits."

Kehre huffed.

"You know, you were more fun a few years ago."

He raised his hands defensively at the look that got him, realizing that perhaps brevity was the better part of valor.

"As I said, I'm here with the last payment for that.. little device you got for me. Figured you'd appreciate it ahead of schedule."

He ignored the look this garnered from Otto, well aware of how odd this was. Normally he was very tight with his funds – never to the point of being late on a payment – but enough that this was very out of character.

Still, with the haul from his last job, this was a rare time when he had a little more than he needed. He'd be able to pay Otto off completely, and still have a bit left over for a rainy day.

The other reason he was early, was that while Otto hated any attempts to gain favor or suck up, he did appreciate efficiency.

His efforts were rewarded with the slightest hint of a pleased expression that Otto's poker face couldn't quite conceal. He may be a genius but he was still young enough for inexperience to be a factor.

Wasn't much, but one day it may well be enough to tip the scales in his favor. Always plan with a view to the future, that was his motto.

With how quickly Otto had risen in the underworld, and how easily he seemed to be able to procure advanced technology, it would pay to be on his good side. Speaking off…

"By the by Otto, the 'little device' you got for me… don't suppose it came with an instruction manual you forgot to mention?"

Kehre fought to keep his expression steady as Otto leaned forwards in his chair. For as long as he had known the kid, Otto had never shown more interest than a raised eyebrow. The kid was famous for his lack of reaction to anything. A foreboding feeling stole over him. If even the guy that had given him the damn thing didn't know everything about it, then … damn it. It was his policy to never get involved in things that were above his pay grade.

He'd hate to have to get rid of it, especially as he'd just finished paying the stupid thing off.

"Have you used it yet? It took me quite some time to develop, and I admit to being curious as to its capabilities."

"Develop… Wait, you made that thing yourself?!"

Otto's eyebrow made the journey up his forehead again. "Judging by your reaction, I can guess it worked? How well?"

Kehre ran a hand down his face, taken off guard. Honesty was the best policy here, no doubt about it. Besides, it was all over the news, and it wouldn't take much to find out the full story for somebody with Otto's connections.

"I'd say the damn thing worked too well." He admitted with a shrug. "It took out an Overseer and all its Watchers from about 10 meters away, through a wall. Got the cops all interested in what I was doing at the time, which was… inconvenient, to say the least."

Otto leaned back into his chair, a satisfied expression plastered across his face.

"My apologies for the interruption of your evening then." He said cordially, before breaking into a smile. "Still, this exceeded my best hopes, for such an… unwieldy prototype."

"So, nobody's going to be after me for this?" Kehre pressed, still concerned. "I was kinda under the impression that it was some government prototype or something, and I've been freaking out about them, I don't know, tracking it down or something."

Otto sniffed. "I would never sell you anything that could be tracked, you know that. Still, in this particular case, I suppose I can see the reason for your concern. You may put your mind at ease - I built the device myself from parts sourced all over the country. If anybody was capable of tracking those purchases and linking them to you, they would be capable of making one themselves. I trust you've been doing your part to avoid suspicion and stay under the radar?"

"Heh, you don't have to threaten me to get me to look out for that kind of thing, you know that Otto."

"I do." Otto smiled. "That's why I sold it to you after all. I knew you were one of the few people who could be trusted to use it responsibly."

Kehre was taken aback at the almost genuine comment, which must have shown on his face.

Otto's smile morphed into a smirk. "It looks like your acting takes a hit when you're nervous. I haven't heard a quip in minutes at least."

Kehre clenched his teeth. It was true, he never was any good at multitasking. As soon as he was distracted, his carefully crafted devil-may-care persona vanished. It was a crucial part of his image in the underworld, and much of his reputation was based on it. Of all the people to slip in front of…

"Relax. That little device I sold you should serve as blackmail in a pinch, as I'm sure the authorities would be very interested in the person that developed it."

Contrary to the intended effect, Otto's words simply made Kehre tense further. Nobody freely gave away blackmail, it was a massively stupid thing to do. He couldn't read anything from Otto's smirk either, and the shiver of trepidation was only getting worse. Time to split before everything else went wrong.

"Well buddy, as fun as it's been, I must be off. People to do, things to see, you know how it is."

It was a pale imitation of his usual confidence, and judging by the expression on his face, Otto found it downright amusing. Not bothering to try and fix this mess, Kehre turned and strode off back towards the door.

"I'll show myself out, don't worry." He called over his shoulder.

He needed time to think about the consequences of this conversation. He glanced down in surprise as his stomach growled at him. He also apparently needed that pie.

Priorities.

Updated 22/03/20