Olivia quickly dashed through the doorway, mag rifle raised before her. The warehouse interior was dark, the only source of illumination coming from windows set into the roof a dozen meters above. The mercenary ducked behind a stack of crates and observed her now quiet surroundings.

Rows upon rows of steel shelves, some nearly reaching the roof, filled the storehouse, most of them empty. In empty spaces between, Olivia could make out excavation equipment and archeological tools - excavators, mining carts, heaps of power tools, and other forgotten gadgets. Some thirty yards away, close to the structure's center, she found what she had come for. A pile of crates, trunks, and bags, Bretonian markings barely visible on them in the dim light.

Olivia ducked out from behind her cover, carefully moving down the aisles towards the supply shipment, using the deep, dark shadows of the shelves around her for concealment. Her enemy, however, did the same. A man twice her size spun out from behind a rack, scattergun raised towards her. Cursing, Olivia dove to the ground, landing hard on the warehouse's steel floor. A storm of buckshot tore through the space her body had occupied an instant earlier. She rolled to the side in time to avoid a second blast that dented the deck and sent pellets ricocheting through the air.

Before the assailant could fire a third time, she jumped up into a low crouch and leapt at him, swatting at his gun with her rifle. Both weapons went flying off to the side, clattering loudly to the floor. Olivia crashed into the man, shoulder first. His breath exploded out of him and he stumbled backwards, but caught himself on the shelves. Olivia landed in a crouch, drawing a knife from its sheath on her thigh. Her opponent caught his breath and growled angrily, then charged at her, arms held wide to catch her. He was quick, she gave him that, but his sheer size rendered him lumbering compared to herself. Deftly, she ducked under his swinging arms, spinning around him as he passed her, and sliced at the backs of his knees.

With a cry of pain, the man tripped and fell hard to the floor. Before the man could raise himself onto all fours, Olivia leapt over to his side and rammed her blade into his back, aiming for his heart. Lifelessly, her opponent slumped back onto the deck.

But before Olivia could catch her breath, a hail of bullets whizzed through the air at her, pinging off of metal shelves around and the steel wall behind her. With a curse, Olivia dropped to the floor beside the corpse, using it for cover. She reached down and drew her handgun from its holster, raising it up to her head, and cautiously glanced over the dead body into the warehouse.

A second burst of gunfire shot at her and forced her to duck down again. She could hear the sound of bullets striking her meaty cover, pushing the body towards her. She had, however, seen the source of the attack, the weapon's muzzle flash giving away the shooter's position behind a stack of wooden palettes a few empty shelf rows away. Olivia waited out a third volley, then jumped to her feet and ran down her aisle, perpendicular to her enemy's location. A hailstorm of bullets followed her, but in the dim light her opponent had difficulties tracking her. Breathing hard, she rounded her enemy's cover and skid to a halt. She raised her pistol, aiming through the empty shelves, and pulled the trigger once, twice, thrice. A cloud of splinters erupted from the wooden stack and she could hear a man scream out in pain, followed by the dull thump of a body hitting the floor.

The warehouse fell quiet again.

Five down, Olivia thought to herself as she crouched back into the shadows to catch her breath. Seven to go.

The quiet sounds of shuffling feet echoed around the warehouse's cavernous interior. Olivia kicked herself for discarding her mag rifle earlier, leaving her not only outnumbered but also thoroughly outgunned. Carefully, she patted herself down, making sure that what weaponry she did still have on her was where it belonged. Her fingers ran over her holstered knife and pistol and closed around a small cylinder attached to her belt. A lone stun grenade.

She took a deep breath, steeling herself before carrying on towards her objective. A small motion in the shadows to her left caught her attention. She ducked behind a shelf with its lowest rung stacked with dusty crates, eyes locked on the source of movement. Two men stepped out of the darkness into the dim light, warily sweeping raised rifles to and fro as they scanned the warehouse for signs of her intrusion. They were clever enough to move back to back, leaving no blind spots for her to attack from. They were, however, also too inexperienced to keep their eyes on the floor.

Olivia patiently waited for them to approach her cover, then swung out from behind it, staying low, swinging her legs at the first man. The kick swept his legs out from under him and he sprawled to the steel floor face first, a splatter of blood erupting from a broken nose. Olivia jumped to her feet as the second man spun around in alarm, raising his rifle, mere feet between its muzzle and her chest. The mercenary dashed forward, closing the distance and slapping the weapon's barrel away as her opponent pulled the trigger. A deafening blast resounded through the storehouse as a bullet zipped through the air, missing Olivia's torso by inches.

With all the force she could muster, she kicked her knee upwards, ramming it into the man's groin. Stunned, he dropped the gun and buckled over like a marionette cut loose from its strings. Olivia unholstered her sidearm and pressed its barrel into the collapsing man's back, firing twice, then turned around to face the smuggler with the shattered nose. He had rolled onto his back and was clutching his face, blood streaming out from between his fingers. He stared at her, eyes wide with fear and, for just a split moment, Olivia hesitated.

A gunshot rang out and a stab of pain shot through Olivia's left leg as a round grazed her thigh.

"Shit," she growled and ducked down, searching for the shot's origin. The man on the floor grabbed the opportunity and clambered to his feet, reaching for his dropped rifle. Gripping it, he spun towards her and froze as a red stain blossomed from his chest. He collapsed again to the floor. Olivia lowered her pistol, glancing around the warehouse. She made out the glint of a rifle's barrel in the shadows in front of her just in time to dash to the side, a bullet tearing through the space she had occupied an instant earlier. A second round pinged off the steel shelves around her, ricocheting into the darkness.

Running, Olivia blindly let loose a burst of pistol fire in the shooter's general direction. She heard a man curse, followed by heavy footfalls as her attacker repositioned. In the faint light coming through the rooftop windows, Olivia saw his shape bound towards the pile of supplies in the warehouse's center. The figure took cover behind crates of food and medicine, realizing that these were what she was after - and that she would avoid damaging them.

Sadly, he was right.

Olivia turned into a shelf aisle leading towards the heap of supplies and the smuggler hiding within. She fired her pistol, aiming above the bags and crates, forcing her opponent to keep his head down as she approached. Her free hand reached for her belt, detaching the small metal cylinder from its link. She squeezed tightly, arming the grenade, then threw it forwards. It sailed through the air, passing over the crates, and clattered to the deck behind them. Olivia squeezed her eyes shut and kept running.

A blinding flash erupted from within the cache, followed immediately by a deafening blast. Her ears ringing, Olivia opened her eyes again, and leapt onto the nearest trunk. Amidst the stockpile, the lone shooter crouched on his knees, clutching his head in a stunned daze. Seeing her crest his cover, his eyes shot at her, tears streaming down his face. With a confused yell, he stumbled to his feet. Olivia jumped at him, planting her feet in his chest and sending him flying into a pile of bags. Two rounds from her pistol followed him, spraying the sacks with blood.

Olivia's shoulders slumped as she watched the lifeless body sink into the pile. She was out of breath and a crimson stain spread from the throbbing wound in her leg. She slouched against a stack of crates, catching her breath, and looked around. The supply cache was far larger than she had at first estimated. There were tons of food, water, and pharmaceuticals stored around her, enough to feed hundreds of Sprague's people for weeks. The smugglers would make a fortune selling it all on the black market. Or, they would have, had she not shown up to interfere.

A smile parted the mercenary's lips. This was worth doing. Sprague's population needed every pound of goods it could get its hands on. These men she was killing were extorting innocent people. They deserved their fate.

Thwump.

A dull sound, like a rubber ball being launched out of a steel pipe, tore Olivia out of her contemplation.

Oh, she thought as she watched a grenade arc over the piles and stacks around her.

Shit.

The explosion's concussive blast hit Olivia like a speeding train, slamming her into a pile of crates as though struck by the hand of god itself. Heat and debris washed over her body, bags and boxes falling to the ground around her in a chaotic cacophony. Foodstuffs and medical supplies torn free from their containers rained down, charred and broken.

Olivia groaned, feeling spears of pain flash through her body. Her ears rung and she could sense several cracked ribs in her chest, splinters and shrapnel lacerating her legs. She struggled to sit up, propping herself up on her elbows, only to immediately collapse back to the floor as her left arm gave out from under her. Squinting through the tears in her eyes, she looked down at her arm ... or rather, what was left of it. Her eyes widened in horror.

The limb was torn up, chunks of flesh ripped free. Shredded skin and muscle hung in flaps, revealing white bone beneath, blood pouring forth. As though waiting for her to discover the injury, the wound's pain set in. It struck her with all the mercy of a raging torrent, clawing at her consciousness. Olivia screamed, writhing in agony. Even with her mind clouded by the suffering, she knew that the pain, injuries, and blood loss should have left her unconscious. Yet - torturously - she remained perfectly awake. Something, she realized, was keeping her conscious.

It is my turn, a voice spoke in her mind, piercing the veil of torment like lightning piercing the night sky. It sounded like her own, but different, distorted. As though combined with another. I will finish this.

Suddenly, Olivia's squirming stopped. Then, her body jumped into motion, seemingly of a will of its own. Ignoring her ripped arm and injured legs, she rose to her feet. Waves of pain crashed into her mind, but she remained perfectly lucid. Through the ringing in her ears, she could hear the sounds of footsteps approaching her position; men muttering to one another. Her right, undamaged arm reached down and pulled her knife from its sheath, clutching it tightly in her hand.

Watch.

One of the remaining smugglers stepped through the littered mess of the supplies, rifle swinging lazily from a shoulder strap. Gazing around the mayhem, is eyes landed on Olivia. His eyes went wide at the sight of her bloodied, battered form.

"Holy shit," he uttered in disbelief.

With a howl of rage that wasn't her own, Olivia's body leapt toward the man. Before he could react, her knife plunged into his neck, a geyser of blood spouting from the wound, splattering Olivia's face. Her hand tore the blade free again and the man went down, crimson fluid gurgling from his throat.

"Zach?" Someone called out from behind the upset heaps of boxes and crates. Olivia watched herself step out from within the mayhem of scattered goods, coming face to face with the three remaining men standing a dozen yards away.

"What the fuck?" One of them cried out at the sight of her. Two of them raised their weapons.

Olivia's body dropped into a crouch, then lunged forward with incredible strength. The steel floor beneath her feet dented from the inhuman force her legs exerted on it as whatever was controlling her ignored her body's natural inhibitors. She felt the muscles in her left calf tear from the exertion, pain shooting up her leg. It was intense, but it felt oddly distant - like loud music heard through a closed door. She tore towards the three men at a speed she should not have been capable of and crashed into the closest. Olivia heard her opponent's neck snap from the sudden impact as they both went sprawling to the floor.

"Shit!" The man standing to her right shouted as he spun towards her, leveling his rifle at her. Olivia's body scurried across the deck, coming up to its feet and spinning around the smuggler. She watched as her right hand rammed her knife into his back. She left it there, reaching up instead and grabbed at his face from behind. The man let out a cry, muffled by her hand covering his mouth. She clutched tightly and yanked. The man went silent as his neck broke.

Olivia's body turned around, letting the corpse topple over. A few yards away, her last opponent stood, staring at her, frozen midway through the process of reloading a breach-loaded grenade launcher. She took a step towards him and, with a yelp, he came to, shakily trying to insert the explosive round into his weapon. Olivia dashed forward, bringing her right hand up in a clenched fist. It shot forth and struck her enemy square in the chest. He cried out in pain as ribs cracked from the blow. Olivia felt the bones in her fingers snap from the impact. It hurt, but, again, the pain felt muted.

The force of the punch sent her opponent stumbling backwards until he tripped over his own feet and fell sprawling to the floor. The grenade launcher clattered uselessly down beside him. Olivia's body strode towards him as he pleaded, groaning in pain, for her to spare him. Instead, Olivia was forced to watch as she raised her right foot and brought it down on the man's face. He fell silent.

She stood still, the warehouse suddenly eerily quiet around her.

This is what we can do together, the strange voice that both was and wasn't her own spoke again. Then, it vanished, as did the wall that had stood between Olivia's mind and the pain of her broken body. The agony washed over her like a tsunami, ripping away her consciousness.

Olivia's eyes fluttered open, and she found herself in bed, staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling. Off-white, rough-textured, with unclean seams where panels of cheap material had been fused together. Clearly prefabricated. Olivia sighed. She found herself staring at unfamiliar ceilings far too often.

She tilted her head to the side, finding Blue seated in a chair beside her. The walls and floor around them were the same eggshell color as the ceiling. The burly man looked at her, a smile parting his scruffy beard.

"About damn time you woke up," he greeted her in his gravelly voice. He leaned forward in his chair, lowering his tone. "What the hell happened?"

Olivia shrugged her shoulders and immediately regretted it. Lances of pain shot through her arms and chest at the movement. She winced.

"You were supposed to take out some thugs," Blue went on, "not hug a landmine."

"I didn't expect them," Olivia retorted hoarsely, noticing how dry her throat and lips were, "to have a grenade launcher."

Blue reached out and raised a cup of water to her lips, helping her take a few tentative sips. "You're lucky, y'know?" He spoke as she drank. "When I found you in that warehouse, I thought for sure you were dead. I'm pretty sure you should've been, at any rate, the way you were looking." He replaced the cup on a small table beside the bed. "Your arm looked like it was about to come off."

Olivia raised her head to glance at her left arm. It lay above the thin blanket that covered the rest of her body, wrapped in layers of white gauze, a med-stasis band clasped firmly around her upper arm. Tubes sprouted from the monitoring device, disappearing beneath the bandages. The shape of the limb seemed off, like bits of it were missing. Olivia remembered the sight of it after the explosion in the warehouse and realized that that was exactly the case. She had thought then that she would have to lose it.

Blue looked on and nodded, as if knowing what she was thinking about.

"Doctors were this close to amputating it at the shoulder," he explained. "I talked 'em out of it. Didn't think you'd like losing a limb. So, you'll get to enjoy a therapy of tissue cloning and electro-muscular stimulation instead." He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Where exactly are we?" Olivia asked, lowering her head back onto her pillow.

"Nottingham First Medical, 'Sprague's finest medical center'."

"How long was I out?"

"Three days."

"And the job?"

Blue shrugged. "We got paid. Most of the goods survived the explosion, even if they got blown all over the place."

Olivia finally cracked a weak smile. "So you can afford a proper leg in place of that broomstick of yours?"

Blue gave a hearty laugh at the jest. "Yeah, I've been looking through some catalogues while you were in dreamland." He rose from his chair, reaching out to pat Olivia on the shoulder - then thought better of it. He smiled down at her. "You get some rest."

"What will you do?" Olivia asked.

The man shrugged again. "Use your share of the job to pay your medical bills."

Olivia watched him leave the room, then closed her eyes again, taking a deep breath. She wasn't a religious woman - in fact, her experiences had quite turned her off of the idea that there might be any benevolent beings watching over man - but at times it felt like something was keeping her from dying when she should. Or maybe, she thought to herself, she was just very, very lucky.

But something had kept her alive in the warehouse. Something had spoken to her, taken control of her body, and killed her enemies when she should have been lying in her own blood, dying. Something was inside her mind, and she assumed that it was also what had caused her blackouts and the murders that had driven her out here into the border worlds. Something sentient.

Olivia smiled faintly.

Her questions were finally getting answers.