They called him the Wizard because he liked to pretend he had powers, that he could do magic. It was all make-believe, of course. Subterfuge. Mind tricks and illusions that made you think he could pull off extraordinary feats.

But Mrill knew better.

So when the man jumped out of his chair and bounced up to the ceiling, adhering to its surface, she guessed he was using anti-gravity boots and nanomagnets. And when he threw lightning bolts at her, she knew it was just penned-up electricity—perhaps even echion energy judging from the blue glow.

All this went through her mind in a fraction of a second as she twirled and spun out of the way. With a press of a finger, the length of her blade doubled. It was now long enough to reach her prey, despite the distance. She saw a flicker of concern in the man’s eyes as she swung it toward him.

The Wizard deftly swayed out of its path, crawling on the ceiling, his head hanging upside down. He hissed and a stream of mist blew in her direction.

The freezing beam hit her before she could spin out of the way. Searing pain shook her as ice covered her entire body in seconds. But the cold would not incapacitate her. She had known hundreds of froststorms on her homeworld. This was nothing.

Without expressing the slightest glimpse of emotion, she stepped forward and swung again just as the Wizard leaped toward the door. The man yelped as the blade cut into his flesh. It was not enough to stop him, however. His momentum took him through the door, screaming like a madman and dripping blood all over the carpet and into the hall beyond.

The guy was literally flying away.

Mrill ran after him. She stepped into the blood, her bare feet leaving red marks in her wake.

She burst into the main room just as the Wizard was about to reach the exit, startling patrons in the room who jumped to the floor and hid behind tables. It was total chaos.

“Oh no you don’t,” she muttered.

With a strong flick of her wrist, she threw her blade at the fleeing man. It went whizzing through the air and hit its target on the back of the neck, slicing right through skin and bone. With a sickening thud, his lifeless body fell to the ground. It continued to slide, painting the floor red, until it finally hit the door.

Mrill calmly walked up to the Wizard, barely noticing that the room had gone dead quiet. She leaned down and pulled hard to dislodge her sword. With a click on the handle, the blade retracted and disappeared into the pommel. She stuck the small metallic cylinder into her pouch.

“Oooohh! Look at the mess you made!”

She didn’t bother to turn toward the whining man. She’d given him enough to buy two brand-new locals, and they both knew it. The guy just liked to complain.

“How about you make yourself useful and help me carry the corpse outside?” she asked.

“What? And dirty my clothes? I would never! Besides, I’m not touching that!”

He waggled a finger toward the dead Wizard.

“Fine. Then I guess I’ll just leave him to rot here. You like that better?”

Ledash wrinkled his nose in disgust.

“Alright! Alright! But I’m not doing it.” He turned and whistled. Two younger men came running, looking very confused. “How about you be nice fellows and help the blue lady get that dreadful stinking thing out of here?”

The two looked at the body with disgust. When he saw them hesitate, Ledash barked some curses at them and they quickly went to work.

He turned to Mrill and grabbed her arm before she walked out.

“I know you well enough to know you don’t have a glider. What are you going to do with him out there?”

The two had grabbed the corpse, one at each end, lifted it, and started going through the door. As he spoke, Ledash motioned to the street beyond with a jerk of his chin.

“Get paid,” she simply said before pulling away from his grip and stepping out.

The two young men dropped the body in a side alley and scampered away after she threw some coins at them.

Mrill watched them go, then casually leaned against the wall and crossed her blue legs, with one bare foot—still dripping blood—dangling in the air. She pressed two fingers against the temple of her head.

It only took a few seconds to establish the vircell connection. Her employer’s face appeared floating inside her retina.

“Is he alive or dead?” he asked.

She shrugged. “He tried to run.”

“I see. Pity, that. Still, a deal is a deal. You have the body?” She gave him the address. “Very well. Someone will be there shortly to examine the body and dispose of it. They will also initiate payment, of course.”

She knew it was a formality, so she did not take offense.

“Of course,” she said calmly.

Ten minutes later, the corpse was gone and she was twenty thousand credits richer.

She headed back to her house, feeling dead inside.

There had to be more to life than this.

When she’d first come to Talanassi, she had been lost, hungry, and penniless. At first, she had used her powers to steal food and con her way into the places she wanted to go. Part of her had felt empowered and vindicated for how her own people had first shunned then hunted her down like a rat. But there was that other voice, deep inside her, that told her this was not the path for her. It made her feel guilty about the petty crimes she committed. She had never wanted to be a criminal.

Then she realized people here valued her powers—though many balked at her appearance. It made her see how she might be able to use them to earn a living. Would that not also be vindication?

So she had become a bounty hunter.

And yet...

And yet, she still felt dead inside.