The night was still as she lay silently on the rooftop, staring down at the empty street below. She’d come down from the high of the kill, had relaxed her senses out to feel for the next attack. To be prepared, to be ready. She was looking forward to it.

There would be more. There were always more assassins to be found and sent out, it was only a matter of time.

Cass wondered who she’d offended badly enough to send out a killer on her trail. He hadn’t looked cheap. Enhanced strength and speed, and a dark streak, a sickness in him, an eagerness to get his hands dirty. He’d been around for a while.

She didn’t feel the least shred of guilt about removing him.

That was life off Grid. You were the hunter or the hunted, and sooner or later everyone lost. The game didn’t stop until you did.

It was Quarters who’d first opened her eyes to the nature of life off Grid. There was nothing wrong with feeding off the scraps to survive.

But there was no need to anymore. Cass looked down at the lines she’d cut in the solid concrete of the roof, slicing the curved blade in lazy, curved designs. She cut again now, just to enjoy the feeling. There was no tug of friction, the blade slipped into the concrete like it wasn’t there. She pulled it around in a rough circle and watched the hole drop down to the floors below.

What was this thing? Enhancements were nothing new off Grid, merely expensive, but to people, never to objects. Users made quicker, stronger, more agile. She’d tweaked herself as much as was possible. But this was something else. She could feel the possibility, the menace emanating out of its curved blade.

A part of her grinned. Who cares? It’s yours now. Yours to use, to wield. Use it as it should be used.

Her eyes scanned the streets below again, but there was nothing. Everyone knew better. The hunger that was growing inside would have to wait.

Cass rolled onto her back and stared at the black sky, letting the constant rain clean the sweat and dust off her face. The image of the blade stayed in her mind’s eye, turning in front of her. Taking over her thoughts.

She sat up and held the handle of the blade up to the moonlight. There was something there, something she’d missed. She’d glimpsed it as the blade turned in her mind. There.

The thin moonlight gleamed on the blade, glinting down onto the handle, on to the base where the letters MWB flashed in and out. Cass stared at the insignia etched into the base. MWB. Why hadn’t she noticed it earlier? She turned the blade in the light and watched the letters flicker in and out of sight, as if the moonlight itself was writing and erasing them in turn. MWB.

She’d seen those letters before.