The knocking filtered through layers of cotton and static, persistent enough to drag Arthur toward consciousness. His goddesium limbs felt heavy, disconnected, as if someone had severed the neural pathways and reattached them wrong. The knock came again, three measured raps against wood.
Arthur's tactical mind kicked in before full awareness returned. He catalogued sensations: couch beneath him, ambient lighting, the lingering taste of tequila and artificial strawberry. Then memory crashed back with crystalline clarity. *Viper. The margarita. The drug.*
His eyes snapped open. The private room materialized around him, unchanged except for the empty space where his betrayer had stood. Arthur's jaw clenched hard enough to make his teeth ache. The cameras were still there, red lights glowing like accusatory eyes. He'd been played. Used. By someone he'd trusted, someone he'd—
Another knock, firmer this time. "Sir? Are you well?"
Arthur forced his breathing to steady. However much he wanted to put his fist through the wall, he was still undercover. Still Jason Borne, wealthy client with expensive tastes and questionable morals. He pushed himself upright, testing his limbs. The goddesium prosthetics responded sluggishly but functionally. Whatever Viper had used was wearing off faster than she'd probably intended. His enhanced metabolism, courtesy of the goddesium integration, was burning through the drug.
"Come in," Arthur called, keeping his voice level.
The door opened to reveal the same Nikke server from earlier, young-looking with carefully neutral features and that same haunting vacancy in her eyes. She carried herself with practiced deference, the kind beaten into someone through repetition and consequence.
"My apologies for the interruption, sir," she said softly. "We heard... movement. Wanted to ensure everything was satisfactory."
Arthur manufactured a slightly embarrassed smile, the kind a man might wear after overindulging. "Got a little carried away with the party powder," he said, touching his temple ruefully. "Guess I'm not as young as I used to be. Hit me harder than expected."
The Nikke's expression flickered with something that might have been relief or recognition. She'd probably seen this scenario before—wealthy clients losing themselves in chemical escapes, waking disoriented and vulnerable. "Of course, sir. Shall I bring water? Perhaps something to eat?"
"Water would be good." Arthur stood, rolling his shoulders to work feeling back into his frame. His omni-tool interface glowed faintly at his wrist. Still functional. Viper hadn't disabled it, which meant she either hadn't thought of it or hadn't wanted to raise suspicions. "Actually, before that—"
"The manager wishes to extend his gratitude," the Nikke interrupted gently, as if reading from a script. "For your generosity and discretion. He wanted me to inform you that all of The Garden Gate's services are now available to you free of charge. You may select from any of our Nikkes for private companionship, and we have several rooms better suited to... extended stays."
Arthur's stomach turned at the clinical way she described what amounted to sexual servitude. But Jason Borne wouldn't react with revulsion. Jason Borne would see this as a privilege, a reward for his wealth and status.
"Generous of him," Arthur said neutrally. "How long ago did my companion leave?"
The Nikke checked an internal chronometer, her eyes flickering briefly. "Ten minutes, sir. She departed through the main entrance."
Ten minutes. Viper had a ten-minute head start, and in the Outer Rim's twisting corridors, that might as well be hours. Arthur's mind raced through possibilities. She'd drugged him, stolen access to Webb's establishment, and then... what? Simply left? That didn't track with her personality or operational patterns. Viper played long games, strategic manipulations with multiple contingencies.
"I'd like to see her again," Arthur said carefully. "The same Nikke. Can you arrange that?"
The server's expression shifted almost imperceptibly. "I... believe that can be arranged, sir. Though she did leave—"
"Also, I'd like to speak with the manager personally," Arthur continued, his tone carrying the weight of someone accustomed to having requests fulfilled. "Alone. To thank him for his hospitality and discuss future arrangements."
"Of course. The manager is available whenever you wish to see him." The Nikke paused, then added with careful precision, "If you're looking for the Nikke who just departed, you've already answered your own question, sir."
Arthur's tactical mind processed that statement, running it through possible interpretations. The manager's office. Viper hadn't left The Garden Gate at all. She'd gone to see Webb directly. Which meant either she'd cut a deal with him, or—
"Show me to his office," Arthur said.
The Nikke led him through corridors he'd memorized earlier, past the main pub area where other trafficked Nikkes moved through their routines with mechanical precision. Arthur catalogued faces, committing each one to memory. These were the people he'd come to save, even if his primary mission had just been compromised by platinum blonde treachery.
The manager's office occupied a corner space with reinforced doors and biometric scanners. The Nikke keyed in an access code, and the door slid open with a pneumatic hiss.
Viper sat in Webb's high-backed chair, legs crossed, scrolling through her phone with casual disinterest. Her red eyes flicked up as Arthur entered, and a smile played across her lips.
"There you are," she said, pocketing her phone. "Was starting to get bored. Your metabolism is impressive—burned through that sedative faster than my calculations predicted."
Arthur closed the door behind him with deliberate force. "What the hell is this, Viper?"
"This," she gestured around the empty office, "is me completing my mission. Which, I should mention, you were actively sabotaging with your 'rescue everyone immediately' approach." She stood, smoothing her dress. "I am sorry about the drugging. Truly. But I couldn't complete my objective with you around."
Arthur scanned the office. It was meticulously organized—desk, filing cabinets, a wall-mounted screen displaying security feeds, a bookshelf filled with leather-bound volumes that looked more decorative than functional. But something was wrong. The desk was too clean. No papers, no data pads, no evidence of recent occupation.
"Where's Webb?"
Viper's smile widened. "Gone. Funny thing happened—someone told him a Central Government commander was sniffing around, asking uncomfortable questions about missing Nikkes. Webb decided a tactical retreat was preferable to answering those questions." She paused, letting that sink in. "I may have mentioned your real identity to him. And your intentions."
"You let him escape." Arthur's voice came out flat, dangerous.
"I let him run," Viper corrected. "There's a difference. Webb took all his immediately incriminating evidence—client lists, financial records, communication logs. The hard stuff, the kind that would have gotten him executed within the week if Central Government got their hands on it."
Arthur felt his prosthetic hands curl into fists. "So your grand plan was to blow my cover, warn the target, and destroy any chance of shutting down this trafficking operation? Outstanding work, Viper. The Nikkes suffering here must be thrilled with your dedication."
"You're angry," Viper observed, circling the desk. "That's fair. But you're also smart enough to realize I didn't leave with Webb. I didn't disappear into the Outer Rim shadows. I waited here, in his office, for you to wake up and come find me." She leaned against the desk, arms crossed. "Why do you think that is?"
Arthur studied her, forcing his tactical mind to override his anger. Viper was many things—manipulative, morally flexible, willing to use people to achieve operational objectives. But she was also calculating. Every action served a purpose, multiple purposes when possible. She'd drugged him, warned Webb, stayed behind. That sequence only made sense if—
"You want something from me," Arthur said.
Viper's expression shifted to genuine appreciation. "See? Smart. Yes, Arthur, I want something from you. Or rather, there's something you can do for me that would be mutually beneficial."
"Why would I help you after what you just did?"
"Because I have Webb's ID card," Viper said, producing a slim piece of plastic from somewhere in her dress. Arthur's eyes narrowed—it was his own ID card, the one Sienna had given him yesterday. "The manager left in quite a hurry, took everything important. Well, almost everything. I may have pickpocketed this before he fled. And without it, you can't access the networked files he left behind in his secure server. The ones buried so deep he couldn't grab them in his panic."
Arthur felt a headache building behind his eyes. "You're telling me Webb left evidence?"
"Fragments. Enough to identify some of the trafficking network, though not enough to shut it down completely. Which means you're going to fail your mission, Commander." Viper's tone carried a teasing edge. "Andersen sent you to infiltrate and gather intelligence. Instead, you're going to return empty-handed, having spooked the primary target into hiding. That'll look excellent in your operational report."
The implication hung between them. Arthur forced his expression neutral. "You waited here because you need something from me. Something important enough that you're willing to trade that evidence."
"You really are too easy sometimes," Viper said, shaking her head with mock disappointment. "Continuing to date you would grow tiresome. You telegraph your deductions like a cadet at first training."
"Then why am I here?"
Viper pushed off from the desk, crossing the space between them with predatory grace. "Because despite my complaints, you're also useful. And because I didn't leave with Webb, didn't disappear into the shadows, waited specifically for you to show up—all of which suggests I have another use for you beyond this trafficking investigation."
"What do you want, Viper?"
She stopped directly in front of him, close enough that he could smell her perfume mixing with the faint chemical trace of whatever she'd drugged him with. Her red eyes held his with unsettling intensity.
"There's a new group operating in the Outer Rim," Viper said quietly. "Moved in about three weeks ago. They're not local talent—too organized, too well-equipped, too disciplined. They've been hitting Exotic Squad operations, interfering with our intelligence gathering, and generally making my life difficult." She paused. "I want them eliminated. Completely. And you have the resources, reputation, and tactical capability to do it."
"In exchange for Webb's evidence?"
"In exchange for Webb's evidence," Viper confirmed. "Plus, I'll help you track him down eventually. He can't hide forever, and Exotic Squad has eyes everywhere. But first, I need these newcomers dealt with."
Arthur considered. Every tactical instinct screamed that he was being manipulated again, that Viper was playing another angle he couldn't see. But the alternative was returning to Andersen with nothing, letting twelve trafficked Nikkes remain in captivity while Webb rebuilt his network elsewhere.
"Show me what you have on this group," Arthur said finally.
Viper's smile was triumphant. She wrapped her arms around his waist in a gesture that might have been affectionate if not for the calculating gleam in her eyes. "I knew you'd cooperate. You're too principled to walk away, too attached to your mission to accept failure." Her voice dropped to something almost coy. "And maybe, just maybe, you still care enough about me to help when I ask."
Arthur didn't respond to that. Couldn't, really, because part of him suspected it was true despite everything.
Viper released him and moved to the bookshelf, running her fingers along the spines until she found what she was looking for. A soft click echoed through the office, and the entire shelf swung outward on hidden hinges, revealing a narrow passage beyond.
"Secret exit," Viper explained. "Webb used it for discrete comings and goings. It leads to an old maintenance tunnel that connects to the industrial sector." She glanced back at him. "Coming?"
Arthur looked at the secret passage, then at the woman who'd drugged him, betrayed him, and was now asking for his help. The smart move would be to walk away, report to Andersen, let official channels handle this mess. But official channels were why those twelve Nikkes were still suffering. Official channels were why Webb had operated with impunity.
And despite everything, Viper had stayed. Had waited for him. Had information he needed.
"Lead the way," Arthur said.