To Eve, the undercity’s daily life was like walking barefoot across hell’s furnace.

  Murder was commonplace. A glance down an alley revealed rotting corpses stripped of organs or the wary eyes of weaklings hiding from the strong. Drug deals, robbery-murders, rape-murders, extortion, threats, incitement to kill… Children tore open a pregnant woman’s belly, playing with the blood-and-amniotic-fluid-soaked fetus like a ball.

  The have-nots know no respite. The undercity, a cage of desire and sin, devours its own. Only those who refine sin and pile up evil survive in this predatory demon city. No one protects the weak; all commit atrocities to live in the moment, shameless and unrepentant. In this furnace of hell, a borderland steeped in malice, gunshots and screams echo daily.

  On the apartment rooftop, Eve’s silver wings glinted under streetlights as she watched a gangster dispatch a vagrant and twist a child’s arm. No help came for the crying; onlookers treated it as routine.

  Sighing, scattering silver light into the dark, Eve stood on the iron railing and leapt into the alley. The warm, thick stench of blood filled her lungs as her wings sliced through the gangster’s full mechanoid frame, soaking in reddish-brown artificial blood.

  Her prismatic eyes met the child’s, then looked away. A dry gunshot echoed, her wings deflecting a bullet as another pierced the child’s forehead, who’d drawn pistols in both hands.

  Sixty-two times now. Saving a weakling from the strong, only to face their gun. Glancing at vagrants pulling knives, Eve reaffirmed the undercity’s abnormality. Saving someone here meant showing weakness.

  Villains exploit kindness, fiends feed on softness, trust turns to treachery. Watching the undercity for a week, intervening in dangerous acts, Eve concluded that power—overwhelming superiority—must be shown, or the undercity’s sins would burn her in hell’s flames. The weak torment, toy with, and devour the weaker.

  She didn’t want to do this. Kicking the gangster’s corpse into the air, Eve shredded it, raining artificial blood down the alley. Vagrants, armed with cheap knives and shoddy pistols, fled in terror from the girl who dismantled a mechanoid in seconds.

  As she prepared to leap back to the rooftop, Danang appeared in her vision. Like a firefly in the night, cigarette smoke curling, he surveyed the carnage and passed by her.

  “Where were you?” Eve asked.

  “Just my routine. Don’t worry about it,” Danang replied.

  “Routine, huh…” Eve muttered.

  Electronic notebooks hung from his waist, his clothes reeking of gunsmoke and blood. Wiping fresh blood from his mechanical arm, its vibrating blade glinting under streetlights, Danang sheathed it and cleaned it with a corpse’s cloth.

  From five to seven a.m., Danang vanished, calling it a walk. Rilse said he was blowing off steam, but Eve didn’t know what he was doing.

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  After a week observing the city from the rooftop, Eve had a hunch. The notebooks resembled those carried by gangsters, and Danang brought one back daily, always reeking of death.

  “Danang,” Eve said.

  “What?” he replied.

  “Rilse’s waiting. Work talk,” she said.

  “Got it,” he said.

  Should she press him? Ask why? Hesitating, Eve brought up work, pointing to the apartment door.

  Maybe she should speak, maybe not. She’d wait for Danang to share, and if it was a problem, they’d solve it together. But a week in the undercity taught her only its chaotic reality, the misery of disorder, and the fragile dynamic between Danang and Rilse. The path to the mid-level city remained shrouded in fog.

  Shaking her head, Eve followed Danang into their shared apartment, glancing at Rilse, who faced a display.

  Tapping keys lightly, bathed in blue light, Rilse smiled at them, hitting enter. Stretching in her chair as if signaling work time, she sipped muddy coffee from a cute pink mug and set it down.

  “Welcome back, Danang, Eve. Anything unusual?” Rilse asked.

  “Nope,” Danang said.

  “Not really. The undercity’s the same,” Eve replied.

  “Guess it doesn’t matter. Work, you two,” Rilse said.

  Danang sat, opening a cigarette pack, while Eve sprawled on the sofa. Lighting up, he exhaled thin purple smoke, dispersed by a desk fan. Both girls grimaced, saying in unison, “Quit smoking.”

  “It’s just smoke. Rilse, the job,” Danang said.

  “Fine, fine. It’s a survey of the uncharted B-sector depths in the ruins. Client’s from the mid-level city, but I’m the middleman. Danang and Eve, you’ll split the fieldwork,” Rilse explained.

  “Elevator’s back online?” Danang asked.

  “Seems so. Probably other ruin diggers fixed the backup power. The new sector’s called M-sector. The client says they named it ‘M’ for Malebolge,” Rilse said.

  Malebolge… Eve gave a wry smile.

  If someone ventured beyond M-sector, they’d teeter on the abyss’s edge—a frozen, forgotten layer, erased from existence. Call it Cocytus.

  The client’s irony was clear, naming the undercity a borderland, the gate Phlegethon’s blood river, and the ruins hell itself. The mid-level city and ruins were separated by a massive elevator and steel sky, like the river Acheron. Recalling a book read long ago, impressed her knowledge lingered, Eve gazed at the display.

  “Rilse,” Eve said.

  “What, Eve?” Rilse replied.

  “You say survey M-sector, but what exactly? I’ve been helping Danang for a week, just grabbing relics or pulling data from terminals,” Eve said.

  “About that—” Rilse began.

  “It’s planting backdoors in the sector’s terminals to streamline data verification. The ruins and undercity aren’t networked, but some lines are live. Rilse and I use them. No usernames, but we owe past folks for it,” Danang explained, dropping ash and prepping for the ruins.

  “Live networks? You’re kidding. The ruins’ lines should be dead, or at best standalone or local—” Eve protested.

  “Dunno the details. But only you, me, and Rilse know this. If we can use it, we should, right?” Danang said.

  Holstering an assault rifle and magnum, sheathing Heres, Danang slung a pack with ammo and four days’ jelly packs. His mid-grade soldier look, black mechanical arm gleaming with his armor, felt faintly menacing.

  “Danang, when’ll you be back?” Rilse asked.

  “With this gear and food, three days minimum. Rilse, if anyone shady shows, run. Blow this place if you have to,” Danang said.

  “Idiot, we need a home to return to. I’ll keep it in mind, but no worries needed. Right, Eve?” Rilse said.

  “Yeah,” Eve agreed.

  A silver wing floated around Rilse, ensuring her safety.

  “I’ve set the auto-defense system. It’ll shrug off most bullets, missiles, or rockets,” Eve said.

  “Thanks, Eve,” Rilse replied.

  “Oh, and Rilse,” Eve added.

  “What?” Rilse asked.

  “I’ll grab ingredients for dinner. Let’s eat together. Your cooking was amazing,” Eve said.

  Blushing with a smile, Rilse waved. “Leave it to me. Come back safe, with Danang.”

  Acclimation

  Acclimation

  We’re off, Eve murmured, stepping with Danang toward hell’s depths.