CrownDown4What: Well, you’re definitely not the first to come up with the idea. You stepping into a new neighborhood or something?
Shyhand71: Kind of. I just want to make sure I’m not about to put all my eggs in one basket before somebody steps on it.
CrownDown4What: I hear ya. What neighborhood?
Shyhand71: Jackson Ward. North side, mostly.
Her new friend took over a minute to reply. Cheyenne managed to sit patiently through the wait, hoping whoever it was had enough balls to tell her to scram if they didn’t want to dig any deeper into this with her. Then a new message popped up at the bottom of the chat.
CrownDown4What: Maybe this’ll help. It’s a section of a longer list I have access to, and that’s just one list of a lot more. If you have any other questions, I’m here.
Cheyenne rolled her eyes. Why can’t people just put it in the chat instead of making me do all the work?
She fired up the Bunker again because she had no idea who this CrownDown4What was and was too smart not to cover her bases. A link was a link, sure, but on the dark web, it could literally be anything else, too.
Once her custom program had fully opened, she clicked on the link and downloaded CrownDown4What’s little present through a bit torrent and right in. Five seconds later, the new file had been tested and scrubbed of nothing; it was as clean as the file gu@rdi@n104 had sent her on Durg, and it was just as small.
A list of names and races identified by “class” took up three-quarters of a page. Some of them had addresses, and several had professions listed after that. There were apparently only twenty or so other magicals listed in Jackson Ward altogether, not just the north side. She scanned the list again and clicked back into the chat.
Shyhand71: Definitely helpful. How long ago was this list updated?
CrownDown4What: About twenty seconds ago. My system’s pretty thorough.
Shyhand71: Nice. Any tips for how a noob can get access to a system like that?
CrownDown4What: You don’t have to pretend like you don’t know what you’re doing. The way you’ve been answering my questions proves enough. Wish I could help with more than sending over a list now and then. Built the system myself, though. Not looking to bring in partners.
“No kidding.” The halfling couldn’t help being a little impressed by that, if CrownDown4What was telling the truth. Looks like I’m not the only one who knows their way around serious coding.
Shyhand71: Makes sense. I appreciate the file anyway.
CrownDown4What: No worries. Let me know if you’re stepping into any other neighborhoods and want the same kind of info. You’ll eventually get the hang of working this stuff out on your own. When you’ve been Earthside as long as I have, you get real good at keeping a bird’s-eye view.
Shyhand71: Just for fun, how long have you been here?
CrownDown4What: Longer than the Accord. Not safe to say much more than that.
Shyhand71: Right. I’ll keep in touch.
CrownDown4What: Sounds good.
Cheyenne sat back in her office chair and read over their conversation one more time. Longer than the Accord, huh? So, before I was born, and before the FRoE started making their own lists. Who is this guy?
It made her curious, but it wasn’t the most important thing right now. She had the information she wanted about Durg’s neighborhood, and she had some time to kill, thanks to her new friend from the Borderlands forum. And no stupid scavenger hunts first. I like this guy.
It took her another fifteen minutes to cross-reference the addresses on that list with the area of Jackson Ward where Durg lived. There were other orcs living in the area, and all of them were at least four blocks away from her new target’s house. Those with listed jobs mostly worked on the other side of Richmond. If she wanted to make certain most of them were out of the way, she would wait until tomorrow, skip class, and go for the bastard in the middle of the day.
Cheyenne rubbed her forehead and glanced at her backpack on the floor by the kitchen counter’s half-wall. Can’t keep skipping. And most people are home on a Sunday night anyway.
Especially the orc she was bent on paying back for what he’d done to Ember.
Chapter Seven
No matter how badly she was itching to head to Durg’s place—which would have only taken her about twenty-five minutes to walk and maybe two minutes to run at full drow speed—Cheyenne did the smart thing and waited it out. She glanced at the clock on her computer—5:47 p.m. “Might as well warm up.”
She shut off the monitor and powered Glen down all the way before stepping into the tiny space between her desk and her kitchen. After a second’s thought, she let the heat of her drow magic flare at the base of her spine and wash over her. Then she conjured up the purple sparks shooting off the tips of her fingers and stared at them. How about something I haven’t mastered yet?
The sparks went out, and she closed her eyes to take herself back to her final “test” with Rhynehart the day before. Black fire on my skin. How the hell does that work?
The halfling tried to bring up the protective rage she’d felt fighting Rhynehart’s mountain of an ogre operative. Jamal’s face pulled up quickly in her memory—his sneer, the mottled gray flesh covering his lumpy head, the way he’d dropped to one knee in the middle of their fight and given up.
‘Cause it was a lie.
She clenched her fists and opened her eyes, hoping to see the black flames flickering across her black shirt and the purple-gray skin of her forearms showing beneath her three-quarter-length sleeves. Nothing.
One and done, then. What about the shield?
The chains on her wrists clinked when she shook out her hands, then she shot out her arm and
