the smuggler’s bible


Aoi watches closely as people come and go from the structure. Five individuals, she thinks, maximum of seven. One man stands by the door, smoking. He turns to his companion. Aoi reads his lips automatically.

what [obscured] worried about since [obscured] kinda shit-hot strike team

It’s slim odds indeed that they’ll spot her at this altitude. If they had that sort of tech—well, they wouldn’t be guarding a concrete bunker. She waits until shift change. Two more appear. The others linger just for a moment.

“Instigating,” she says, pinging Vespasianus as she drops.

They never even hear her coming.