It’s ten in the morning in Neo-Aureborn. This is the prime hour for the city’s melting pot of races to mingle, whether for school or work. In the downtown district stand the main government hubs. The Licensing Services division, like most bureaucratic monoliths, is surrounded by a tiled plaza to keep vehicles from crowding the entrance.

  Street vendors hawking handmade goods and pre-packaged snacks are the only businesses allowed nearby. Benches and gardens offer a bit of sanctuary for those seeking a quiet break from the downtown hustle. Security guards patrol the area; true to Neo-Aureborn’s "integrated" image, they come in all shapes and sizes—from hulking orcs and towering draconids to dwarves and faes who carry weapons and an air of absolute authority.

  On the fifth floor, the elevator doors slide open, revealing a sight that stops workers and waiting citizens in their tracks. Whispers ripple through the crowd: Is it a new race? Or maybe some light-sensitive monsters? What they see are three hooded figures in dark shades, slouching and trudging along as if they’re terrified a single stray photon might touch their skin. They radiate an aura of misery stronger than any digital magic.

  "You’re drawing a crowd. Again," the AI voice of LENA Vance chirps through the three boys' earbuds. "You should train yourselves to at least try not to look like vampire zombies."

  "We’re night workers..." mutters Andrew Vance, the youngest. "We’re not... built for the sun. It’s not our thing."

  "It’s our greatest enemy," adds Axel Vance, the strongest brother, yet equally vulnerable to daylight.

  “You are capable of stopping terrorist gangs and you have such a clear weakness.” LENA laughs.

  "Is an AI mocking us?" Andrew keeps walking.

  The brothers collapse into the padded chairs to rest. Nearby infergnos and adult anthropomorphics shuffle away, giving them space. The eldest brother tries to turn on his phone to check their ticket number.

  "LENA..." Lewis Vance gives up and asks his AI sister for help.

  "Number fourteen. Lift your head a bit."

  With his eyes squeezed shut, Lewis obeys so the earbud’s camera can scan the reception desk, where a ram-type anthropomorph is working.

  "They’re on number eight."

  "At least they’re getting faster," Axel notes.

  "In this tech age, they have to double-check everything to avoid glitches. Hacks are the new normal."

  Axel and Andrew lean back to catch some sleep, while Lewis stays on the first watch. These are their prime sleeping hours, and they aren't going to let them go to waste.

  "LENA, you know what to do if I drift off."

  "A high-pitched screech right in your ear. Got it."

  Two hours crawl by. More citizens of various races fill the waiting area, steering clear of the "vampire boys" just in case they decide to start sucking blood. To kill time, everyone is glued to their phones, the universal default for boredom.

  "Ticket thirteen. We’re almost up." Andrew gives his older brothers’ shoulders a rough shake.

  "Eyes up," a flat-screen TV high in the corner blares, breaking into a breaking news report. The anchor is a sharp-dressed elf. "Metropolitan Police have seized another shipment of stolen illegal weapons intended for export. While a victory for law enforcement, investigations suggest many more black-market firearms are already circulating among Neo-Aureborn citizens, with others lost to the void."

  "Look," Axel mutters. "That’s our case."

  "Don’t say it out loud," Lewis snaps. "If the snitches find out, they’ll ghost us. And the cops are already closing in on one of the locations."

  "Here?"

  "The underworld has ears everywhere," Andrew interjects. "Especially in public places where you can overhear anything. Right?!" He raises his voice, noticing the sudden silence in the room. "If you’re planning on jumping to a new hideout, you better do it now!"

  "You're up," LENA announces through the earbuds as the number flips.

  "You didn't say—"

  "Drop it," Lewis cuts Axel off and stands up. "Being a loudmouth is one of his 'gifts.' And the guy three seats down was the one who flinched when we mentioned the case."

  The crowd turns to stare at the person in question: a young human in a hoodie who had been buried in his phone until Andrew shouted. Feeling the heat of a dozen stares, he stands up to leave.

  "Leaving without being seen?" Andrew asks. "That little faith in the bureaucracy? Hey, join the club."

  The guy catches some dirty looks from the receptionists.

  "Excuse me," the man says in an adult voice, trying to push past.

  "And be more careful the next time you bring a piece into a gun-free zone," Lewis adds.

  Panic ripples through the room. The man freezes, instinctively checking his waistband to make sure his weapon is hidden. In a flash, Axel grabs his arm, pinning it behind his back. With his free hand, he snatches the pistol from the man's belt.

  "If you weren't carrying, you wouldn't have checked," Axel says. "You just outed yourself. Weapons are prohibited here unless you're security."

  The brothers haul the suspect out of the room to hand him over to a guard. As the adrenaline fades, the citizens settle back into an uneasy calm.

  "He must have tailed us for blocks," Lewis says. "We busted some of his crew two days ago and now they want payback. That smuggling ring moves fast."

  "Which means we have to move faster," Andrew says, returning with Axel. "Otherwise, this is going to turn into a massive pain in the neck."

  "Um, excuse me..." the ram anthropomorph calls out to the boys in hoods and shades. If they hadn't just disarmed a gunman, he’d probably be terrified of them too.

  "Our apologies," Lewis says. "We're just here to renew the paperwork for our agency."

  Night has fallen once again over Neo-Aureborn. Many citizens head home to rest, while others hit the streets to dive into the nightlife. For some, however, this is just the start of the workday—and for those operating on the fringes of the law.

  The port, located in the northern district, is one of the backbones of Neo-Aureborn’s economy. Countless products of every shape, size, and price point flow through here. As a strategic landmark, the most powerful merchants invest in security to protect their cargo. It’s a measure that doesn’t work 100% of the time, but it has put a dent in the local crime rate.

  Spanning hundreds of meters, the port is a labyrinth of shipping containers stacked high, waiting to be hauled away. Despite the cameras and motion sensors, it’s impossible to monitor every square centimeter of such a massive area 24/7. Consequently, the perimeter often becomes a breeding ground for criminals looking to restock their black-market inventories.

  "The smell of the sea breeze is always so relaxing," Axel says. He’s perched on the edge of a pier overlooking the water, taking a deep breath of the salt air. He’s wearing his blazer, with his sword strapped to his back.

  "Even if it’s a bit tainted by industrial waste and runoff from the cleaning soap," Lewis remarks, adjusting his hat, his rifle steady in his hands.

  "The smell of soap is refreshing, too."

  "You guys don't happen to smell motor oil by any chance?" Andrew asks. Clad in his trench coat, he scans the horizon through a pair of binoculars. At one a.m., there isn’t much to see.

  "A shipment is coming in today," Lewis says. "If we smell anything, it’ll be his cargo, not some smuggler’s skiff."

  "Actually, it arrives tomorrow," the AI sister chimes in through their earbuds. "According to port estimates, the next freighter is due at before 4:00 a.m."

  "Criminals don't keep a schedule." Andrew hands the binoculars to Axel. "They’ll strike whenever they feel the time is right."

  "And that’s our usual shift."

  "I wouldn’t be so optimistic, Axel," LENA says. "We’ve spent days just patrolling without a single lead since the robberies started. Let’s hope tonight’s the night. Time to split up."

  Lewis moves through the shadows, avoiding the high-intensity port lights. His ID is tucked in his pocket, just in case. He scans the edge of the docks through his scope. He’s at a blind spot where the visibility is trashed—the kind of place where someone could slip out of the water and vanish without being seen. After several minutes of nothing, he gives up and moves to a new vantage point. A powerful horn blasts, echoing through the night; the freighter has arrived.

  "Arrival on schedule," LENA announces. "Containers will be inspected every hour for verification."

  Lewis approaches his next mark near the security fences that border the port. The corners are usually under-patrolled—the literal edge of the land-sea frontier where security systems tend to get glitchy. Fortunately, there are no signs of anyone breaching from the water. At least, not from the shoreline.

  "We had a case once where suspects dug tunnels. Wouldn't surprise me if they tried something similar here."

  "That’s impossible without drawing—" LENA cuts off. "Lewis, someone’s near your position. I just picked them up through your headset."

  The boy presses his back against a shipping container, melting into the dark.

  "Just one?"

  "Yeah. And they’re closing in fast from above."

  Lewis goes silent. It doesn't take long to hear the rhythmic, hurried thudding on top of the containers. Someone is sprinting. Lewis primes his bracelet as the footsteps get louder.

  A feminine silhouette leaps down, landing just a few meters away. She’s clad in a full-body black Kevlar suit and a balaclava that leaves her eyes exposed. A pair of one meter-long swords are sheathed at her waist in black scabbards.

  The figure executes a series of acrobatics to close the gap, launching a kick. Lewis triggers his bracelet, projecting a solid energy field that blocks the blow. The silhouette lunges again, throwing a flurry of punches. Lewis holds his ground, parrying the strikes with his forearm. The figure backsteps, drawing both swords and imbuing them with digital magic. With a long leap, she delivers a dual strike against the shield, sending sparks and light flying as the energies collide.

  Lewis recoils. He’s still standing, but his arm is starting to throb from the impact. He doesn't even try for his rifle; her speed is too high to let him get a clean shot.

  The silhouette relaxes, sheathing her swords.

  "You've improved," she says, her voice that of a young woman. "Before, you wouldn't have lasted a second against my dual-slash." She pulls off the balaclava and shakes out her hair.

  "I heard the cops were hiring independent contractors. I just didn't expect yours to be one of them, Stealthorn," Lewis says, deactivating his shield. His tone is pure sarcasm.

  The human girl is revealed to be a young woman with long black hair and striking golden eyes.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  "Just call me Haley. And I didn't expect to find you here either, wimp. I guess the competition won't be much," she says with a smirk, pulling out her phone. "Amellie, don't freak out. It’s just one of the Vance boys. Which one? The wimp. The muscle and the loudmouth aren't around."

  "If we're seen talking, we'll spook the perps. It’s been a pleasure, but i need to get back to work."

  Lewis turns to resume his patrol. He barely takes a step before a hand grips his shoulder, forcing him around. Haley grabs his other shoulder and pins him against a container.

  "Wait," she says, a playful smile just centimeters from his face. "It's been forever. Don't run off so soon. Besides, I bet you have some intel I’d love for you to share."

  "LENA..." Lewis says, his voice wavering as he calls for backup.

  "I'm afraid you're on your own, Lewis," the AI replies, her tone laced with amusement.

  "Thanks for nothing," the boy in the hat mutters, gently pushing the girl back and straightening his clothes. "We don't have much. The port authorities aren't handing over their security protocols. They even think we might be in on it."

  "They told us the same thing." Haley looks out at the sea. "Even when we're working with the police, people with millions of credits in cargo don't trust freelancers."

  "What have you found?"

  It’s three in the morning. From hundreds of meters away, Axel and Andrew Vance watch the massive freighter approach, carrying over ten thousand containers. It’s an imposing machine that will take at least a full day to unload.

  "Time to find out if the hits happen during the offloading." Axel lowers his binoculars.

  "That’s when the ships are under the heaviest guard," Andrew notes. "Now that they know there are independent contractors on their tail, the perps won't risk showing their faces just whenever."

  "Isn't it also likely they'll just stop stealing until things cool down?"

  "It’s a strong possibility."

  The two boys turn to see someone walking toward them. She’s a human woman in her early twenties, with short black hair and a pair of glasses covering her golden eyes. Her features are identical to her sister Haley’s. She wears a black Kevlar suit, designed to melt into the shadows.

  "Amellie Stealthorn," Andrew says. "So your agency is here too."

  "Hey there! Good to see you guys again," the girl says in a sweet, upbeat tone. "Don't worry, we’re not working for the same client, so we won't be stealing your paycheck, and the cops won't dock your credit. We’re not looking to be your rivals tonight."

  "It still blows my mind that you’re that competitive savage’s twin. You’re the total opposite of her."

  "Except when it comes to strength and agility," Axel points out.

  Amellie offers another smile as she feels her headset—integrated into her glasses—vibrate.

  "There’s someone else who wants to say hi... especially to LENA."

  "LENA says she’d rather not," Andrew deadpans.

  Amellie holds out her phone on speakerphone.

  "What’s up, fellow AI?" a young woman's voice chirps, though it sounds synthesized. "Not gonna say hello to one of your own kind?" The tone is playful and defiant.

  Following the cue, Andrew pulls out his own phone. His sister’s avatar projects in miniature from the camera.

  "We aren't living beings, PEGGY," LENA says, crossing her arms. "We are clusters of digital data operating on millions of lines of code."

  "Always such a buzzkill. You just displayed 'indignation,' you know."

  "Fine." LENA sighs. "Do you want to pool our resources to solve this or not?"

  "What makes you think we’d help a rival agency?"

  "Suit yourself." LENA shrugs, and her avatar vanishes.

  "Hey! At least try a little harder!" PEGGY’s tone shifts into a full-on pout.

  Andrew wonders why he’s stuck listening to a pair of AIs bicker, while Axel and Amellie just grin at their partners' interaction.

  It’s three and thirty in the morning. The newest freighter to hit the Neo-Aureborn docks is already anchored and rigged for unloading and inspections. At one end of the bridge connecting the massive vessel to the city, a squad of multi-racial officers, armed with submachine guns, prepares to sweep the ship.

  At the ship’s gangway, a pair of amphibioid guards—pistols at their hips—wait for them. They do a double-take at the three individuals not wearing standard-issue uniforms. The officers offer a quick "they’re with us" to get them through, though the guards still look skeptical.

  Axel, Andrew and Amellie board the ship, staring up at the endless wall of metal containers. It still blows Axel’s mind how a machine can haul this much dead weight without sinking. Even more impressive? That these things existed even before the digital age.

  "Time to cross-reference the codes," Amellie says.

  The three of them weave through the containers. If it weren't for the guards and the bridge they just crossed, they’d swear they were still on the docks. The view is identical: nothing but stacked metal boxes as far as the eye can see.

  "Aren't these things supposed to be organized already?" Andrew asks, feeling the guards' eyes on his back.

  "Between delays and unexpected incidents, sometimes they just stack 'em however they fit," LENA explains over the comms. "They’ll handle the sorting during the actual offload."

  "You guys have the manifest?" Amellie checks the code on the first container.

  "Just like you sent it," Axel says. "You ready, LENA?"

  "Scanner’s primed for anomalies. None of these containers are shielded against it."

  "PEGGY?" Amellie calls out.

  "Ready and on high alert," the AI chirps.

  Back at the port, two figures crouch atop a container. One aims a long-range rifle while the other keeps a lookout for hostiles.

  "So, that guy we busted belonged to one of the gangs running ops here." Lewis looks toward the bay and then the anchored ships.

  "They have 'cleaners' to take care of nuisances," Haley adds.

  "If that guy was out to kill us, why’d he wait until we were inside the building? Wait—I’ve got something." Through his rifle scope, Lewis spots a massive crane hoisting a container. Perched on top is a shadow: a silhouette barely one and half meter tall. "There shouldn't be anyone on that crane except the operator."

  "Some of those are ghost containers," Haley explains. "You can't see what's inside until they're unloaded. They stash illegal cargo in them and ditch whatever was originally inside."

  "But how would we know—?"

  "Because we did our homework," PEGGY cuts him off through the earpiece. "We ran the numbers today and flagged the average pattern these smugglers use to sneak in illegal units. The next ship should have a ghost container. If not that one, then the one after."

  "Must be nice working hand-in-hand with Security," LENA mutters, her voice dripping with resentment. "They gave you the data way faster."

  "This isn't a contest," Axel says over the comms.

  "Our agencies are rivals, so always take it as one," Haley says with a smirk.

  "Easy to say when you’re Security’s little favorites," Lewis retorts—only to earn a sharp pinch to the ribs from the girl beside him.

  It’s four in the morning. In the deepest shadows of the port, a figure slips between the containers, moving like a ghost to avoid detection. It’s a dwarf, and having finished his job, his remaining task is to vanish and wait for new orders. Despite his stocky frame, his movements are fluid and agile. Above him, he hears footsteps. Someone is tailing him. He picks up the pace, shifting from a straight line to a random, zig-zagging circuit. He has to be careful; he’s leaving the under-patrolled "dead zones."

  At a T-junction, the dwarf freezes. Checking his two possible escape routes, he spots a red flag: a figure in a hat, aiming a long-range rifle dead at him. Behind, his pursuer drops to the ground in a single leap—it’s the girl in black, her long hair pulled back in a ponytail.

  "Answer the obvious," Lewis says, closing in without lowering his weapon. "What were you doing on top of that crane?"

  "You're no operator," Haley adds, drawing her left sword. "You positioned yourself above the cabin just to draw us out. What’s the play here?"

  The dwarf steps into the light, revealing a face that looks about twenty in human years, with a buzz cut and a goatee. His most striking feature is the pair of heavy metal gauntlets on his hands.

  "You did what I wanted." The dwarf turns to face the girl and dropping into a fighting stance. "When we heard the cops hired some vassals, we were ordered to take them out."

  "You just confirmed you're a criminal," Lewis says.

  "What does it matter? It’s our last night at this port anyway." The dwarf’s hands glow with digital magic, the energy surging into his gauntlets. "And I’m just a sacrifice. Now that we have your faces, we know who to deal with."

  "Are you trying to spook us?" the girl asks. "My agency has dealt with international threats."

  The dwarf lunges at her with a massive leap, throwing a straight right at her face. Haley uses her right hand, imbued with magic, to catch the blow. Upon impact, she winces. She underestimated his raw power.

  Lewis fires, but the dwarf catches the energy projectile with his left palm. The stun effect is negligible. The dwarf then imbues the tip of his boot with digital magic, aiming a kick to shatter the girl’s knee. Haley has no choice but to leap back to dodge.

  Lewis pulls the trigger repeatedly, sending a burst of laser beams at the opponent’s legs. The dwarf gives a lopsided grin and imbues his lower limbs to block the shots. As soon as Lewis stops, the dwarf charges him with a high spinning kick. The human boy triggers his bracelet to project a solid energy field. When the dwarf's kick connects, the force sends Lewis flying back several meters, landing hard on his back.

  The dwarf takes a second to catch his breath and lets out another laugh.

  "Don't be so shocked to meet someone with superior skills. The biggest mistake you government lapdogs make is underestimating us."

  "We've already made you," Lewis says, picking himself up. "It’s a matter of time before they find your illegal weapons shipment. Your face is going to be everywhere."

  The dwarf’s expression shifts to genuine confusion.

  "Illegal weapons shipment?"

  Now Lewis and Haley are the ones caught off guard. They study the dwarf’s face and realize he is bewildered.

  It’s four and thirty in the morning. On the freighter, Axel, Andrew, and Amellie watch as the crane hoists another container they’d inspected to stack it on the docks. After checking crates filled with toys, electronics, and various types of clothing, the AIs haven't picked up anything resembling weaponry—at least, nothing manufactured by conventional means.

  "Notice the staring yet?" PEGGY asks through everyone’s comms.

  "For several minutes now," Andrew says. "They’re wondering why we’re taking so long."

  "I wish we could work faster..." LENA cuts herself off. A hit. She’s found something. "Axel, move closer to the row of containers on your right. About four meters ahead."

  Andrew and Amellie stay silent to avoid further suspicion, feigning continued inspection. LENA waits for the scanner on Axel’s phone to provide a clearer readout.

  "There are weapons," the AI declares. "In one of the middle containers."

  "Do you have the unit number?" Axel asks.

  "Got it."

  Axel is about to keep moving when he’s intercepted by a crew member: a goat anthropomorph in a standard deckhand uniform.

  "We've finished the inspection. Everything’s in order." Axel raises his hands.

  "I see. Did you check the lower containers too? There are plenty hidden from view, and we’d like to avoid any... complications."

  "Port security will handle those. For now, we're heading out." Axel turns his back.

  "He's got a gun!" LENA screams.

  Axel spins around just as the goat levels a pistol at him, firing a laser beam at his head. He manages to throw up his forearm to block, feeling the searing impact.

  The goat continues firing. Axel draws his sword to parry the beams, retreating around the corner of a container to break the line of sight.

  Andrew sprints between other containers to help his brother, pistols drawn, until something in the sky catches his eye. Someone is hovering above him, descending slowly. As she lands with a heavy thud, Andrew sees an adult red-scaled draconid with a sword in hand.

  "I see we’ve been made." The draconid swings his blade. "We can't have you ruining our business, so just play nice and let us catch you."

  "Hide your product better next time." Andrew aims his twin pistols.

  "You have no idea who we work for. So, making you—and this evidence—disappear will be enough." The draconid lunges, flying low toward the boy with a horizontal slash.

  Meanwhile, Amellie is staring down an infergno man aiming a pistol at her. She aims back with her own suppressed weapon.

  "No other hostiles nearby," PEGGY confirms.

  "Let's skip the introductions," the infergno says. "Now that you know about the cargo, we can't let you walk. Or the cops, for that matter."

  "Is the whole crew in on this?" she asks.

  "That's on a need-to-know basis—and you don't need to know." The infergno fires a red laser.

  Amellie dodges with a slight tilt of her body and opens fire. The infergno mirrors her, swaying to defend himself. He then aims for the girl’s leg, predicting her next move. Amellie manages to imbue her knee with digital magic to block the hit. The infergno aims for her head, and she covers up with her forearm. However, he tilts his barrel down a few centimeters at the last second, aiming for her chest before firing. Amellie uses her pistol to deflect the bolt. Some of the force jars her fingers, but it’s not enough to stun her.

  "You just made a huge mistake." The infergno lowers his gun. "You and those officers who boarded are trapped now. I’ll give you a few seconds to look at the sky."

  Amellie recklessly obeys, glancing above his head. Then she looks at her own feet and notices the wind.

  "No way..."

  "Are we moving?!" Andrew asks, alarmed, waiting for his AI sister to confirm.

  "We’re already clear of the port," the draconid says, bracing her sword. "You have the chance to jump overboard and survive. Assuming the wake doesn't suck you under."

  "We won't be going far," the goat anthropomorph adds. "We’ll just dump the cargo and retrieve it later."

  "LENA..." Axel says into his comm.

  "It’s true," the AI responds. "The ship is underway. I just confirmed it with Port Control."

  "You can't stop us," the goat says. "By the time the Coast Guard gets here, you'll be long gone."

  "Neutralize him fast, then we go after the pilot."

  Axel nods at his sister’s words.

  Back at the port, Lewis and Haley watch in disbelief as the container ship drifts further and further from solid ground with every passing minute. No matter how much they want to act, they’re stuck with the helpless realization that their brothers have to handle this on their own. To make matters worse, they still have an enemy to deal with—and a lingering doubt gnawing at them from his last words.

  "Our crew is in the business of looting." The dwarf drops back into his fighting stance. "We didn't even know there was a shipment of illegal weapons in there. If we had, we would’ve hit that first. As you know, scoring hardware like that isn't easy."

  "What’s the move?" Haley asks.

  "Nothing," Lewis declares. "There's nothing we can do except take this guy down. LENA?"

  "Comms are still holding for now," the AI says through the earpiece. "But once the ship clears the bay, we’ll be dark for a few minutes."

  "An AI’s worst nightmare," PEGGY adds, her voice laced with panic.

  The dwarf takes a few rhythmic hops to find his flow. Haley keeps her eyes locked on him, but Lewis scans the perimeter. When someone plays the bait, it’s to lure you into a larger trap.

  "LENA."

  "No other movement detected for now," the AI reports. "No strange noises."

  "Good. Focus on helping Axel and Andrew. They’re in much deeper trouble than we are."

  "Are you sure about that?"

  "You're underestimating the big brother," Lewis says with a smirk.