There was a gash in the sky above the world. It was a dark precession of towering rainclouds, melding into each other against an endless grey gradient, spilling forth a torrential downpour that relentlessly assaulted the skyscrapers, bead after bead of returned water pounding a rhythmic rap-tap-tap on glass and steel and concrete and the golden gargoyles that sat atop the highest towers of downtown Hecate.

Those same watery bullets pelted at the reinforced window of a certain midnight black sedan weaving between the rows of red tail lights on a highway, wrestling with the flow of traffic in a bid to leave the city behind. On the other side of that window, snugly in the backseat, Kurt grimaced at the rainstorm that had consumed their route in less than a minute. Even through the tinted glass and the water, he could still make out the metallic monstrosities jutting out from the corner of a nearby hotel complex, a preposterous facsimile of an age long past. Even the long tendrils of the space elevator weren't safe, their mooring rings becoming more and more falsely ornate as they descended towards the station at the base, dominating a large swathe of the backdrop from where he was sitting.  “They’re not even drainage anymore, are they?”

“I’m sorry?” the driver asked dryly, his eyes forced on the glistening slick road ahead.

“I believe that when they built churches in this style back on Earth, they carved decorations around the rain spouts. Water enters through the back, spews out of the mouth. These statues are just grotesque.”

“I think they’re quite nice.”

Kurt narrowed his eyes as they met Hanlon’s in the rearview mirror. “I don’t mean it as they’re ugly. That’s just what you call one that isn’t a water spout.”

“I don’t see a reason to dislike it.”

He sighed. “It’s this whole damn city - whole damn planet - if you ask me. If you have to try to look like something you’re not, maybe you shouldn’t be.”

“I don’t think I’m following."

“The only thing you should be following is this highway. How far out are we?”

“There’ll be barely any cars on this stretch in a moment. It’s Friday - we’ll be there in less than ten.”

“That’s good,” he whispered, allowing his head to rest on the cool glass, centimetres from the rain. “You know I’m glad you agreed to drive me. Better you than someone outside the family. Just hope your mum’s not too ticked off.”

“No, I understand. It’s important.” The car lurched as they sped up, free of interlopers.

“I think she’ll understand too if I send you home with a nice lump of cash.”

Hanlon chuckled, but kept it low and his eyes forward.

Their car turned off a ramp and descended towards the lower road, before making a sharp left between some trees outside the city, where a series of bumps made Kurt right himself in his seat. Past the potholes was another incline, this one hugging the side of the mountain that framed Hecate against the inland sea, curving left and right with barely two lanes as they went up and up, burrowing in between the cliffs and the rises formed by the wind. Just when they could glimpse the city as a whole again, sprawling like a spider over the valley with its mandibles dug into the water and extruding out into a port, Hanlon turned again, taking their car off the main road.

Kurt leaned in between the front seats, staring through the windshield to catch sight of the towering floodlight poles nestled in between the ridges surrounding the staging area, casting a soft glow over the entire area. Despite the halo glow of the lights, what they had come for was anything but heavenly.

A pair of plain-looking chain link gates wordlessly swung open, the silhouette of their operator in the shack already expecting them. Hanlon made a long detour on the dirt path that circled the main fenced-off site, and from across the lot, Kurt glimpsed the assembled crew through the gaps in between their heavy equipment, each in a brightly coloured raincoat over their viability vests, huddled together like penguins in a documentary he’d seen once. Above them hovered a large drone sporting three pairs of rotors turned against the howling wind, stiff plastic canopy extending to shield them from the bulk of the rain.

Hanlon pulled up before the assembly, aligning Kurt’s door flawlessly. “I’ll wait for you.”

“You should be with your family.”

“How are you getting back?”

“Maybe I’ll stay the night. Heard these barracks are quite chilly in the monsoon season.”

“And my mum?”

Kurt dug a hand into the inner pocket of his blazer, muttering to himself as he felt the metallic chips inside, and pulled a few of them out, scattering them into the passenger seat in front. “That should be eight thou. For the trouble.”

“You really don’t need to,” Hanlon said, though he was fighting back a smile.

“Consider it pocket money. Maybe she’ll let me ride with you more often.” He undid his belt and ignored the sounds of gratitude to open the door, directly into the shadow of the umbrella drone that had moved into position to receive him.

As Hanlon’s car sped off, Kurt gave it a little waved, and then undid his bowtie and top button of his shirt haphazardly, stuffing the accessory into the back pocket of his tailored slacks. “Before you say anything,” he began, turning to meet the foreman. Kurt towered over him by a whole head, making the other man in the raincoat look almost cute from where he was standing. “Did you find the culprit?”

The foreman shook his head, unwilling to be intimidated by something as simple as stature. “No. He was gone as soon as the lights went out.”

“He, Bloom? Your men couldn’t handle a single guy?”

“Nothing about this guy was normal,” Bloom protested, but the grimace on Kurt’s face convinced him to divert the conversation. “And he didn’t break anything. Just disrupted the generator for a couple of minutes.”

“Then what was this man here for?”

Bloom set his jaw. “We’re…not sure.”

Kurt raised an eyebrow. “Am I going to find something I’m not supposed to see around here?”

“No, boss.”

“Then by all means, show me how he got in, and I’ll consider keeping you on the payroll.”

The foreman turned to mutter some words to the staff behind him, and they scattered, running for the barracks behind the lot. “This way, sir.” He started towards a rocky outcropping at the edge of the site, directly under one of the floodlight pylons drilled into the ground.

Kurt batted a bush aside and ducked through the gap, where the outer fence fit snugly around the rock. Bloom grabbed a section of the fencing and peeled it back, revealing a cut in a wide arc through multiple sections of the chain link, just big enough for a person to fit through. But Kurt caught something else: at the end of the cuts, the metal was brittle, porous, like…

“It’s plasma,” Bloom said. “Must have cut very quickly.”

“During the rain too,” Kurt mumbled. “Or you would have heard it, wouldn’t you?” He stared at Bloom, who kept a blank face and said nothing in turn. “Not many people are reckless enough to use a plasma blade during a storm.”

“I’ll get new fences that’ll resist the cutter. Double patrols.”

Kurt lurched back, turning his attention to the large tented area in the middle of the site. “You said he didn’t break anything?”

“Yes sir.”

“But what did he take?”

Bloom swallowed. “It’s…better if I just show you.”

The pair made their way to the large tent under cover from the umbrella drone, which parked itself at the edge when Kurt ducked in through the entrance flap. The air inside was an amalgamation of wet plywood and concentrated petrichor, from the rain leaking into the pit in the centre. As he got closer, there was also a sickly-sweet aroma of decay from the exposed and dying roots, sticking out of the soil and clay in the walls of the pit. At the bottom, the soil had been scraped off, revealing smooth, dark stone.

“Sir?”

Kurt turned away from the pit, to a bench that Bloom was setting a lockbox onto. The latch on its front was busted open, the metal still charred from the heat of the same plasma cutter as outside. The interior was, naturally, empty. “You’ve made a lot of progress down there,” he said, glancing back at the pit.

“Well, thank you sir, but work has been slow. The equipment doesn’t really like that rock down there.”

He nodded at the lockbox. “That’s the only thing missing?”

“Yes.” Bloom produced a tablet from his raincoat, browsed briefly for an image and handed it to him. “It wasn’t stuck to anything.”

Kurt peered at the screen. The image was of a small stone disc half-embedded in the dirt, with carvings on one of the flat faces. Pictograms, or…of course. He sucked in a breath. “So the cat’s out of the bag, huh?”

“I’m afraid so. Should I begin planning new patrols in case this guy comes back?”

“No.” Armitage turned back to the pit, stepping to the edge to look down at the dark thing protruding out of the bottom. “If he has a seal, then assume that whatever we know, he also knows. He won’t need to come back.”

“I don’t understand, sir. You know this man?”

“You don’t have to worry about it. I’ll get a new generator airlifted in if the sabotage caused any problems. There’s no need to increase security or anything.” He knelt, not caring if the mud caked his trousers. It had already ruined his shoes anyway.

“Then what are my instructions, sir?”

“It’s best if we go public now.”

“I don’t think that’s a-”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion. I need more staff, more eyes on this as fast as you can. Your men can take the weekend off and keep digging on Monday. In the daylight. I want experts, journalists, gawkers, whatever. I’ll fund it all. Go.”

Bloom almost bowed, and ducked out of the tent.

Winner takes all, then.

Rainwater continued to run down the walls of the pit, exposing a little more of the black stone with each passing second.