Slowly.
Deliberately.
He reaches down with his right hand—the one that is still functional—and picks up something from the floor beside the table.
A data tablet.
High-security. Obsidian Aegis logo stamped across the back.
He holds it out toward me.
Not offering it.
Commandingme to take it.
I walk forward, my legs feeling like lead, and take the tablet from his clawed hand.
The screen is already active.
A single audio file is queued up.
"Play it," he says.
His tone is not a request.
I swallow hard and press play.
The recording starts immediately.
A smooth, professional male voice fills the room.
"Ms. Beck, we represent Obsidian Recovery Solutions. We have recently acquired your outstanding debt portfolios. We are prepared to offer you a full discharge of all liabilities—no payment required—in exchange for a single service."
My blood turns to ice.
Oh no.
Ohfuckno.
"What kind of service?"
That is my voice.
From yesterday afternoon.
When I answered the door to my shitty apartment and found a man in an expensive suit holding a briefcase.
"We need access to certain proprietary information. Specifically: the structural blueprints and encrypted access codes for the primary obsidian vaults operated by Obsidian Aegis Security."
"You want me to steal from my employer."
"We prefer to think of it as... information sharing. You provide the blueprints. We discharge your debt. Everyone walks away satisfied."
"And if I refuse?"
"Then we proceed with standard collection protocols. Wage garnishment. Asset seizure. Legal action. We are very thorough, Ms. Beck."
The recording ends.
