I still thought of myself as a thief, even though I didn’t steal anymore. Now, my skills were used to deliver messages.

 

Melvin and I were prepping in the lobby bathroom of a high-rise condominium. I locked the door, and we methodically laid our components on the floor. The routine was soothing.

 

We reassembled and attached the devices to our previously benign-looking prosthetics. Melvin took a little longer to finish his arm since he was working one-handed. Always the patient leader, I calmly waited for him after my feet were in place.

 

“Review,” I said. We always did a verbal check before entering a job because it wouldn’t be safe to talk once we were inside. “I scan.”

 

“I open,” Melvin replied.

 

“I disable.”

 

“We sweep,” we said together.

 

“I crack,” he said.

 

“I deliver.”

 

“We leave,” we said, again in unison.

 

“Let’s go,” I said.

 

We rode the elevator up to the top floor. After so many jobs together, I thought it might eventually get stale. But the rush right before a delivery was still the same. Intoxicating.

 

Sure, we were criminals. But what we did was refined, elegant, even. We were like magicians. We did the impossible every day, while making it look effortless.

 

Plus, no one got hurt. Well, except for…

 

Melvin and I had barely talked about the accident since it happened a year ago. After we left the job that day, all Melvin said was, “It was unavoidable.” As if that was enough to provide closure.

 

The elevator chimed, pulling me out of my reverie. I willed my mind back to the job at hand.

 

As we approached the penthouse door, I conducted a thermal scan of the interior space. Nobody home.

 

I nodded to Melvin and he activated his arm. It was a state-of-the-art puzzle solver. Doors, safes, computers. It could crack them all. Not exactly legal, but neither were my legs.

 

While Melvin worked on the multi-lock system, I bolted a vertical bar above the door frame. Melvin started counting backwards down from five with his fingers. I backed up and timed my sprint so he opened the door right before I crossed the threshold.

 

In one fluid motion, I jumped, grabbed the bar, swung my legs up, and hit the ceiling flat-footed. My prosthetics detected the orientation change, and my titanium feet automatically engaged thousands of gecko-like hairs.

 

I slipped my infrared goggles on, and inspected the laser patterns: a stationary floor grid with oscillating beams. I strolled across the ceiling, careful to keep my steps in time with the roving sensors. I reached the access panel and entered the code.

 

I pirouetted to the floor and initiated my room checks while Melvin scanned his half. Our intel was comprehensive, but I always liked to be sure before we made the delivery. Some considered it overkill. I preferred thorough.

 

Living room, check. Kitchen, check. Balcony…

 

I froze.

 

She wasn’t supposed to be there. Thermal hadn’t picked her up. The drugs lowered her body temperature. I opened the sliding door. Before I could react, Melvin pushed past me and tried to grab her.

 

She was still high. Delusional. She screamed and started climbing onto a chair to get away. I yelled at both of them to stop. She got too close to the railing. And tripped. And…

 

I came back to the present with Melvin staring into my face. He started to say something, then thought better of it. I shook my head and restarted my sweep.

 

As soon as I left the room, I tried desperately to regain my composure. I couldn’t crack. Not now. Not in front of Melvin. I was the leader, so I had to keep it together. I always did. So, why couldn’t I now? No, I was probably just being paranoid.

 

I met Melvin at the safe and nodded. While Melvin’s arm approached its next target, I removed the package. It was a small statue of a fox. I didn’t know its specific meaning, but the big picture was always the same.

 

We didn’t take physical objects because they were worthless. Everyone’s valuables were snippets of computer code locked away in encrypted vaults. Instead, warring crimelords paid us to make personalized threats.

 

Successful gangsters were paranoid creatures of habit. They checked their safes like clockwork, even when there was nothing worth stealing. This statue would send a clear and insidious message.

 

‘I can get to you whenever I want. So, stop.’

 

Stop what? It depended on the circumstances. Invading my turf. Stealing my women. The recipient always knew. And it was usually a final warning before…

 

But most bosses didn’t want it to come to that. Today’s enemy could be tomorrow’s partner. Murder would be wasted potential.

 

Melvin’s arm popped the safe door.

 

I finally realized what was wrong. There was something off about the job. It was subtle, which was why I didn’t see it until now. The whole thing was too normal. Too routine. Like someone planned it that way to lull us into a false sense of…

 

I leaped to close the safe door just as thick gas started billowing out.

 

We hit the floor in succession.

 

* * *

 

“I caught you,” he said with a sneer.

 

“What?” I asked groggily.

 

“It took a while to figure out who was responsible. But I finally did. Then I just had to set the trap. Now here we are.” He opened his arms in a flourish, like all was clearly revealed. Maybe it was just the sedative, but I was completely lost.

 

“Responsible?” said Melvin.

 

“The junkie on the balcony. She was my sister.” My mouth went dry with fear. “I could just kill you two, but that’d be so wasteful. And cliched. No, I owe a colleague a favor, and you two are perfect. He likes to take things apart and put them back together again. Where do you think he’ll start?”