“I hardly touched it since we left the Varket.” Soo-hyun crouched and took the Zippo from the bunched leather at the ankle of their favorite stolen boots, and stared at it. “Every time I light this fucking thing, shit gets out of hand.”
“I know, Soo-hyun. I know it better than anyone, but I need you to do this.”
Soo-hyun slid the vodka out of their bag. “Don’t worry, I’m already on it.” They hung up and took one last swig. They poured the rest of the booze over the richly upholstered couches that sat in the lobby, while the receptionist watched slack-jawed.
They flicked the Zippo open with their thumb and breathed in the smell of lighter fluid that would always remind them of JD’s dad. They struck the flint wheel and the Zippo lit. They held it close to the wet patch of vodka soaking into the couch, and the flame spread blue and orange, the fabric tinged black. They lit the next couch, and the next, until all three were burning.
They watched the flames spread, the sharp tongues reflected in their eyes, the heat warming their cheeks. Soo-hyun smiled remembering something their stepfather used to say, and they quoted the man to no one in particular: “Don’t say I never do anything for you.”
* * *
A new, constant, harried ringing of distant alarm bells drowned out the electronic whoop of the siren. The doors into the game lab crashed and shook in their frames as the two guards took turns charging the doors. With each charge, JD’s barricade shifted further and further.
JD pushed the bar again—still the door was locked.
“Mirae?”
With a sound like metal tearing, the barricade shifted and the first of the guards rushed into the room. She scanned the area and spotted JD. She raised her taser and shouted, but JD couldn’t hear her, and wouldn’t have listened if he could.
“Mirae?”
The fire safety system came to life, and my final shred of self reached a tendril in to connect.
“Now,” I said.
JD tried again, and the emergency exit door swung open and slammed against the wall.
“Close it,” I told him.
He closed the door and leaned against it, his chest heaving.
“Over—overriding override. Reinstating lockdown on your floor to contain the threat.”
The door jolted as a security guard tried to force it open. JD pushed against it, growling through gritted teeth.
The locking mechanism chanked into place, and JD bent over double. He inhaled deep, pushed off from the door, and started down the stairs.
“How are the other two?” he asked.
“Th—th—they’re about to get wet.”
With that, the last traces of my fragmented self went, shattered by the pull of disparate security protocols, rendered dumb by quarantine.
* * *
Eighty-five meters beneath JD, deep below street level, Enda stared at Mohamed’s gun. Sprinklers emerged from the roof and sprayed reclaimed water over her, Mohamed, and Yeun, but Enda didn’t flinch.
Mohamed lifted his face toward the ceiling, the arch of his neck exposing his Adam’s apple. Enda took her chance. Pain arced along her arm as she punched him in the throat and stripped the gun from his grip. His mouth opened, choking on pain and stagnant water. She held the pistol like a cosh and swung it at the side of Mohamed’s head. He staggered, punch-drunk, and toppled over in a heap.
She turned on Yeun, who clutched his phone tight in his hand. With his muscle gone, he had no better weapon.
“Stop!” he shouted. “I hit one button, and your whole dossier goes live. You’ll have the weight of the People’s Republic of China bearing down on you. You’ll be tried for war crimes. You’ll be executed. Unless you fix this.”
“I couldn’t if I wanted to,” Enda said. “I don’t even know what Mirae did. I just know it’s the end of you.”
“They’re cashing out in droves, liquidating ZeroCash. Make it stop or I’ll release the file, Ira!” Yeun shouted, his voice edged with desperate energy. “Everyone will know who you really are!”
“I don’t care, Yeun. I gave you a chance, and you didn’t take it. What did you think was going to happen? They sent me in to topple a nation. You think I wouldn’t do the same to your company? You knew what I was from the very beginning.” Enda laughed, the sound of it crazed even to her own ears. “I could kill you right now”—she pointed the gun at Mohamed, groaning on the floor—“and your bodyguard, your fucking money, your multinational corporation, none of it