Page 3 of A Darkside Interlude

He failed. Even with all his experience—he’d held posts in all sectors of the Nine Galaxies—he couldn’t fathom what lay beyond the haphazard collection of buildings that made up the Glory Strip.

“The sound of humanity,” Torin observed. “Noisy bastards, aren’t they?”

“Hm.” Iskar could only nod in agreement as he veered toward the glittering skyline.

These humans seemed to be everything he wasn’t, and once again, he found himself wondering what the hell he’d gotten himself into.

In the wake of the Empire’s downfall, life had suddenly become very unpredictable, and that didn’t sit well with a military man like Iskar Gar-Kurai.

With Akkadian’s blessing, he would just have to bring a taste of Kordolian order to this strange blue-and-green world. The old Empire might be finished, but everyone who entered the Ninth Sector would soon understand that the Kordolians weren’t going anywhere.

Chapter Two

Mari scanned the crowd, searching for a decent mark. Her instincts were good enough that she could usually tell the difference between native Darksiders and tourists.

She was looking for the latter. Newbies were usually easy to spot. They either walked too fast or too slow, and they stared too much.

Newbies were easy to steal from, too.

In contrast, Darksiders were terrible people to steal from. Firstly, they rarely had any items of value, and secondly, they were wily.

Darksiders weren’t always what they seemed. Lord help you if you foolishly slipped your hand into the pocket of a Darkside gangster.

These days, there were fewer of them around, but you just never knew when you might run into one of those sharks.

Mari shuddered. She couldn’t think of anything worse. Ever since the North Ward had amalgamated with Teluria, triggering a Federation-initiated crackdown on organized crime, the Syndicate had gone deep underground. The criminals in Darkside had become desperate, and desperate people were capable of doing terrible, vicious things.

She sighed as she ran her hands down her thighs, smoothing down her almost-indecent miniskirt. As her fingers skimmed the bare skin of her thighs, a gust of warm desert wind swept through the noisy street. Mari straightened, her electric blue hair fluttering in the breeze. On sky-high heels, she strutted forward, her hips swaying.

People—both men and women—stared.

Mari knew exactly what she looked like.

The sleek bob of blue hair, the sinfully red lips, the fuck-me heels, the sheer amount of skin on display—it was all an illusion, a distraction, carefully curated for maximum impact.

There you are.

Mari’s pulse quickened and a familiar thrill crawled over her skin as her gaze landed on a couple of strange looking tall guys. Although they were dressed like ordinary Darksiders, there was something different about them. They were about half a head taller than everyone else, and their faces were hidden beneath gauzy scarves and dark glasses. The deep hoods of their jackets were up, concealing the color of their hair. That sort of attire wasn’t unusual in Darkside; most people here valued anonymity, but despite their disguises, these men walked around like they owned the place.

They’re not from around here.

How did she know?

One thing in particular gave them away.

Who the fuck wore sunglasses at night?

Tall, exotic, confident, and almost able to blend in, but not quite. The only difference between the two men was that one was broad and powerful, and the other was lean and sharp; a blade in physical form.

Dangerous. The thought crossed her mind, but it didn’t take root. She couldn’t afford to shy away now. Time was running out. The Collector was waiting for his cut, and nobody went to the Collector empty-handed.

These marks were far too juicy looking to ignore, and besides, how much of a threat could these guys be when she could just slip into the crowd at any time and disappear?

A Darkside gangster might be able to catch her, but these outsiders never would. They didn’t know the streets.

“Hello, payday,” she murmured, sauntering through the throng. She avoided groping hands and sweaty bodies with ease, disarming onlookers with a confident smile.

Mari stared straight ahead, trying to capture the attention of her targets.

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