I shrink behind the doorframe, hardly daring to peek out at the commotion outside. Harding and his partner bear down over the woman, pinning her to the floor. One of them has a knee between her shoulder blades.

“Stay down!” He fumbles behind his back for something, lifting himself off her slightly.

The moment he lets go of her, she scrambles at the pavement, her hands gaining purchase and pulling her away. In a blur, she gets to her feet, and the warden falls backward to the ground. She runs across the road, dodging between self-driving cars.

“ERROR. ERROR. PEDESTRIAN COLLISION PREVENTION SYSTEM.”

She ducks and weaves, coming within a hair’s breadth of so many cars. But I dosed her. She’s lucky. She can make it.

My heart leaps into my throat. I watch her from my hiding place, balling my hands into fists, rooting for her. “Come on, come on…”

She ducks into a dark alley on the other side of the road, disappearing.

“That bitch!” Harding picks his partner off the floor. “Get after her!” He points at the alley.

His partner takes after her, but has a much harder time crossing the road. The cars don’t seem to notice him, or brake as quickly as they did for the abandoned. I guess even a warden doesn’t have an advantage against an AI processor. We’re all just people to them.

The warden stumbles halfway across the street, bumping into the passenger side of a large limousine. “ERROR. ERROR. PEDESTRIAN COLLISION PREVENTION SYSTEM.”

There’s no sign of the woman.

It must be her lucky day. I can’t stop myself from grinning.

Harding turns to the cafe. His helmet obscures his face, but I can’t imagine he’s happy.

I rush back to the counter, hoping he hasn’t noticed me.

Frank calls out from the back. “What’s going on out there?”

“Dunno,” I say. “Some trouble for the wardens, I think.”

He comes out from his office immediately, peering out through the wide windows to the street. He’s just in time to see Harding approach the door, cracking his knuckles.

“Shit.” He points to the back office. “I have to clear something. Can you deal with him?”

He has to wipe the CCTV. I nod, steeling myself for what’s about to come, grateful that I chugged my emergency Composure earlier. “Yes. I can manage it.”

Frank ducks back into his office as Harding enters the cafe.

“Greetings, patron. You will be served—”

“Cut the crap.” He stalks to the counter. “Kyla. Long time no see.”

He doesn’t remove his helmet. The effect is certainly intimidating, but I can see through his game.

I breathe through my nose and paint on the brightest smile I can manage. “Some trouble outside, officer Harding?”

“Heh. No, just some scum to take care of. I noticed they were leaving the cafe.”

“Yes, they thought Dani might be here.” I keep my voice light and add extra emphasis to Dani’s name with a cocked eyebrow. If I ingratiate myself to him, maybe he’ll think I’m on his side.

He considers this for a moment, folding his arms. Keeping my face blank, I motion to the menu board overhead. “Anything I can get for you? I’m sure Frank wouldn’t mind.”

“Kyla.” Harding moves in closer and leans on the counter till I can see my reflection in his blacked out visor. “You’re not… hiding anything from me?”

I smile sweetly. “We both know I could never fool you, officer. I’m not silly enough to try.”

“Right. So, what did that woman want, exactly?”

“Some water, same deal as usual.” I shrug. “I still get them now and again. It’s going to take a while for word to get around about Dani being gone and all.”

“Mmm.” He nods to the back office. “Is Frank about?”

“He had to head out for a while. He had some business to take care of.”

Harding stands tall again, leaning to peer around the foliage wall. “Mind if I head back there, check out your camera footage?”

I pick up a cloth and start wiping the counter, in a show of bravado I could never have managed without my chemical helper. My hand doesn't shake at all. I'm rather proud of myself. I could be chatting about my favourite soap opera.

“He locks the office when he’s out, I’m afraid. Plus, I’m fairly certain you need a warrant, without good reason.”

Wow, Kyla. Where the hell did that come from?

The helmet turns back to me, and I give a casual smile to my reflection again.

“Oh, I’ll get a warrant,” Harding says menacingly.

I shrug. “Okay.”

“And I suppose when I come back, you’ll be long gone.” He leans in close again, looking down at the section of counter I’m wiping. “You’re putting an awful lot of work into wiping that spot, Kyla. And yet I don’t see a mark on it.”

Shit. And I was doing so well.

My hand keeps moving on autopilot as I stare at my reflection in his visor, lost for words. “Yeah… guess it’s just… habit.”

“Hmm.” Harding reaches a hand to his belt, pulls a phone out, and types a message quickly. Replacing it, he folds his arms and moves to the side of the cafe. “Well, I’ve got nowhere else to be right now. So I’m just gonna wait here for Frank to get back.”

“Alright.” I reflect his posture, hoping some patrons will be along soon. It’s unusually quiet—but looking outside now, I see the drama with the wardens has distracted anyone passing by. No one’s going to come in here with Harding at the counter.

I make a move to the storeroom.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Harding holds up a hand.

“I have work to do,” I say, pointing to the store-cupboard. “I have to do a stock check every evening…”

“Oh, no you don’t. You’ll go back there and dose yourself. I’m no fool, Miss Chase.”

“Look, I have to work. You’re welcome to come with me, if you want to.” Despite my slip up with the rag, I’m surprised at how well the mini dose of Composure is working—without it, I would cry and quake in my boots by now. But I’m calm, able to stare Harding down even without being able to read his face. I like it.

“Lead the way,” he says, gesturing with his hand.

I roll my eyes and go to the back room, where I check the syrup levels on the worker shelf, taking notes on the supplies that are running low. Lifting a heavy bottle of Blessed from the middle zone, I hoist it up to chest height and turn around to head back out. I bump into Harding immediately—he was right behind me, breathing down my neck.

“Oh!” I drop the bottle and it ruptures, spilling everywhere and splashing orange syrup over mine and Harding’s legs.

I stare open-mouthed, mentally calculating the damage cost for Frank. “Fuck!”

Harding chuckles. “Whoops.” He turns on his heel and leaves me to clean up, not even bothering to brush himself down or remove the excess liquid dripping down his body armour.

I glare at his back and fetch a mop from the cupboard.

“Kyla! Kyla!” I hear the doors bang as Frank rushes out of his office and into the cafe.

I groan. He’s too late. Harding will have seen where he comes in from.

“Well hello, Frank,” Harding says, not surprised in the slightest. “I thought you were out?”

Giving up on the mess, I follow Harding into the cafe. Frank stares at me, checking me over. “Are you alright?”

I nod. “I’m fine.”

“Just a slip,” Harding says, shrugging. “But now you’re back, I’d like to look at your camera footage for the day.”

Frank’s face twitches momentarily—his lip tensing in a tiny betrayal of his disgust. “I don’t see a warrant, Harding.”

Harding laughs heartily. “My, my. Both singing from the same hymn sheet today? Okay.”

He reaches for his phone again, loads a message and shows it to Frank, whose face drops instantly.

“I believe the controls are in your office?” Harding points to the back room.

Frank freezes, staring at me with terrified eyes.

I shake my head, wishing he could hear my thoughts. No, not now. You said you could deal with it. You said I wouldn’t regret this…

Harding stomps past Frank, murmuring something to him, but I can’t catch it.

But I see Frank’s reaction. He switches instantly from fear to anger, his panicked stare morphing into a fiery hatred. He turns after Harding and reaches for him, grabbing his uniform at the shoulder and pulling sharply downwards.

He falls, but takes Frank with him. They land in a heap and jab and kick and punch at each other, yelling obscenities.

“How fucking dare you!” Frank screams, clambering on top of Harding and punching his stomach. He grabs at the visor, trying to rip it off. “How dare you talk about them like that!”

Harding groans, but flips over and pins Frank down using his knees. One hand moves to the gun at his side.

In an instant, I’m there, stopping him. I don’t know how, or why, or when my body moved, but I have Harding’s wrist in a vice grip and I’m not letting go.

And my other hand moves to his gun. I grip the handle and yank it from his holster. In one swift movement, I haul it up on my forearm and point it directly at Harding’s back.

I press the trigger before he can turn around.

A net of blue electricty expands around both Harding and Frank, pinning them to the ground and jerking their bodies in frenzied fits. I drop the gun, which clatters on the floor at my feet, and back up against the wall, unable to tear my eyes away.