“Stop right there, Death cultivator,” the cyborg agent droned in a robotic voice. He must’ve had his vocal cords replaced when he did the rest of his body. He stuck out his palm in a Halt! motion. “Hands on your head. Get on your knees and cross your ankles.”

  Behind me, Kest tried to open the door. I wedged the back of my right heel against the bottom. It banged against my Achilles tendon, but without breaking the door or me, Kest couldn’t squeeze out. She yelled something muffled and knocked on the glass.

  I ignored her and looked from one Technol to the other.

  “What’s this about?” I asked.

  The female agent pressed her middle fingers to the heels of her palms like Spider-man. Instead of shooting webs, though, a pair of magenta laser swords blazed to life in her grip. In their sizzling pink light, Eliona, Rank C was clearly visible on her badge.

  “Shut your mouth and do as you’re told, Death roach!” Eliona, Rank C growled. A slash-mark grin crossed her face. “Or don’t. It’s more fun when I get to slice and dice you Dragon trash heaps until you comply.”

  It hit me then what was wrong with this scene. There was no traffic on the street. No people and no rickshaws, even though this was a main thoroughfare. But over the rain sounds, I could still hear the distant rumble of wheels. I looked both ways, checking out the cross streets.

  CPA barricades had been set up at the ends of the block. Traffic detoured left and right, rickshaw pullers and their clients muttering at the unexpected disruption.

  Clearly, these Technol agents hadn’t wanted any witnesses. Well, except for the dragonfly drones. Those were buzzing around like they were looking for the best angle on what was probably about to be a pretty epic beatdown.

  Behind me, the door stopped banging against my heel.

  “This is a routine search, Death cultivator,” Officer Roboto droned. “You will comply or you will be hauled down to the hub for questioning. Get on your knees. Place your hands on your head. Do you have any weapons on your person?”

  You mean like a giant immortal scythe that rides along under my skin?

  “I’m a Death cultivator,” I said, not getting down or putting my hands on my head. “I am the weapon.”

  Eliona scowled. “The attitude on you meat roaches makes me sick!”

  She cocked back her laser swords for a swing.

  I hit Fear the Reaper. Miasma glowed in my eyes and covered my skeleton, making my bones shine through my skin like a turquoise X-ray.

  Her catlike eyes widened, and her lunge stuttered.

  The flesh side of Officer Roboto’s face smirked.

  “Bad move, meat roach. That constitutes a Spirit attack.” He hit a button on his lapel and a light stick rose from his cyborg shoulder, flashing red and blue. “Death cultivator, you are under arrest for threatening a representative of the Confederated planetary authority. Turn around and place your hands on the wall behind you, or you will be treated with extreme prejudice.”

  “More extreme than this?” I shot back.

  Running footsteps came around the block on my left.

  Stolen story; please report.

  “There’s been a misunderstanding!” Kest yelled. She must have taken a back way out of the restaurant. “If you explain the problem to me, I’m sure we can work this out!”

  Agent Eliona and her laser swords spun to meet the new threat.

  Kest skidded to a stop and stuck her hands in the air.

  “I’m not attacking! I only want to talk! As a Selken citizen, it’s my legal right to—”

  Eliona leapt at Kest, hot pink lightsaber knockoffs leaving streaks in the darkness between streetlights.

  I hit the Ki-speed and shot between them, throwing out a Death Metal block.

  The laser swords crackled and thumped off my glowing turquoise shield. The smell of burnt plastic filled the air.

  The gungho agent hacked and circled, her blinking red eye scanning me for an opening, but Dead Reckoning kept me ahead of Eliona’s tech-enhanced targeting system.

  I threw my weight behind Death Metal with every block. Pretty soon, she was wincing at the impact. She might get in more hits overall, but she was paying for every one of them.

  But like Warcry kept warning me, you couldn’t play defense forever and expect to win.

  Death is the most permanent victory in any fight, Hungry Ghost croaked.

  Think I don’t know that? I snapped. I’m keeping my freaking head down here.

  Not a pursuit Death cultivator excels at.

  “Death Grip!”

  A patch of skeleton hands burst from the sidewalk and grabbed Eliona’s boots.

  She cussed and wobbled on the spot. I shoved the shields out, smacking her flailing swords wide, and stomped a kick into her upper thigh.

  Unable to step back and catch herself, she stacked it onto her butt.

  In my blind spot, gears whined.

  “Firing,” Officer Roboto droned.

  I spun around just in time to see his arm finish morphing into a cannon.

  The blast boomed off the buildings.

  Dead Reckoning shrieked. I dodged, but not fast enough for a point-blank missile shot.

  Thankfully, Kest’s bullet-slagging construct was still attached to the Crucible Casket chain.

  Enough slag to fill a coffee cup rained onto the concrete.

  I shielded my upper body and upper legs, sending an anticipatory burst of necrotizing frost to the uncovered part of my shins to preempt the burns from stray backsplash.

  On the ground, Eliona took the brunt of the molten spray. Her laser swords disappeared as she threw open her fists, instinctively shoving her hands out to protect her face. Skin sizzled where droplets hit her palms, and holes melted in the polyester legs of her uniform pants. A full-body shield exploded out of her vest, covering her a split-second too late.

  Silvery Spirit lit up the shadows like daylight, with Kest at its center. She squeezed her fingers into a fist.

  Metal screamed and crunched as Officer Roboto’s right side imploded. He slumped over onto the wreckage.

  “This is unlawful conduct for CPA agents on any Confederated planet,” Kest yelled, “and I will make sure you’re both held responsible!”

  “We’ll clear all this up down at the hub,” a new voice said.

  Another Ylef had shown up in full tactical kit. Emblazoned in yellow block letters across the front of his vest was the word Director. He looked more like a Hollywood pretty boy playing an elf for a movie than the sort of guy you would imagine on a SWAT team. Perfect hair, plucked eyebrows, robin’s egg blue skin without a trace of acne, dirt, or stubble.

  “Director Liam Chillion, Rank A, of Selk’s arm of the CPA,” he said, pressing his hands together and bowing to Kest.

  Kest returned the bow, introducing herself, still a little breathy from the dust-up. She wasn’t much for training, and she didn’t spend nearly as much time in actual fights as Warcry and I did, so she hadn’t built up the same cardio or breath control.

  “Thank you for coming, Director Chillion.” She swiped that stray strand of hair out of her eyes. “Your response time is impeccable. You just beat the paparazzi.”

  She pointed out a flock of camera bots flying down the street in our direction like hungry vultures that had just smelled roadkill.

  The Director gave her a Hollywood grin.

  “Thank you for letting me know you’d alerted both me and the press. Now, if you and your…” He raised an eyebrow at me.

  “Bodyguard,” I said.

  “Of course.” The Director gestured to a waiting rickshaw with CPA stenciled in gilt script on the side. “If you and your bodyguard will come downtown with me, Candidate Iye Skal, we have some questions for you both.”

  Kest nodded at me to go along with it.

  We started toward the copshaw.

  “One moment.” He stopped us.

  The Director pulled out a pair of stout metal shackles covered in blinking green lights and swirling with Antimatter Spirit. He tapped them to his HUD screen and they clunked open.

  “For everyone’s protection, I’m going to have to cuff the Death cultivator and apply Spirit suppression. Standard procedure when dealing with Mortal supertypes. I’m sure you both understand.”

  The paparazzi bots got there just in time to broadcast me getting handcuffed and perp-walked to the copshaw.