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Esme scooped another heap of instant noodles into her mask's nutrient chamber. Devoe was seated across from her at the dining table, making short work of a ham sandwich. Oz might have been a no-good manipulative lying piece of shit, but he knew how to stock a fridge.

"I'm not the Knightmare," Esme said, breaking the awkward silence.

"I know."

"It's just... you're with the WBI, so I assumed you'd think that."

"I've done some research, Trahan. I know it's not you."

"Think you could convince Lucia of that?"

"And let her know I've broken about a thousand laws in the process? Besides, what I know still wouldn't be enough to take the heat off of you. I like having my badge, thank you."

Esme snorted.

"Then what are you doing taking side work? I doubt the bureau would approve."

Devoe shrugged.

"Money's good."

"I guess I believe that. Why this case?"

"I used to work for Fantasian private security. Years ago, before the WBI. I met Oz there. I conducted his background check - for some research position. He kept in touch. Paid for odd jobs here and there once I left the company. This was just another, ordinary, assignment." She stopped eating for a moment. "Well, it isn't anymore. This shit is wild."

"Yeah," Esme sighed. "That's a fair description." She pushed her bowl away, having slurped up the last of it. "So, what did you do for Oz? Exactly?"

"He's been asking me to collect data from Fantasian's network," Devoe explained. "Old project files."

"Can I see?"

The cyborg shrugged.

"Be my guest."

She slid a touchpad over and Esme immediately began scrolling through its menus. Devoe cleared her throat awkwardly.

"Yeah?" Esme said.

"I'm, um. Sorry. For what happened at the data center."

"It's... it's fine."

"I wasn't really gonna kill you - just wanted to scare you. Get you to talk. I didn't recognize you, I thought you worked for the Omens or something. I'm not that kind of person. I swear."

"...sure."

Esme opened up the first file. A Pre-Disaster research paper on biological computing. More specifically, computers based on biological hardware - neurons. Improved memory, processing times...

"So how long have you been working for Oz?" asked Devoe.

"I don't work for him," Esme replied brusquely. "There's a file full of brain scans here. Mostly adults and...." She looked closer. "A single child, I think, based on the size. You know anything about this?"

"No. I think the folder it was in was related to some memory disease. Pretty rare."

Esme continued looking through the data.

"There's data on the early prototypes of the Somnus platform," she murmured. "It started out as a system for mitigating trauma."
"Hm?"

"Letting people overcome painful memories via controlled dreaming. That was what Somnus used to be."

"Makes sense. It's a pretty safe way of confronting your fears."

"Mmm. And here's a contract of sale for a... patent, I think."

"You think?"
"Almost all of it's redacted." Esme leaned back in her chair. "How long have you been working on this?"

"About... six months, I'd say. I transferred here to get access to the data repository in this city." Devoe chuckled. "Spent all that time planning and just happened to run into you."
"I don't know if it was really a coincidence," murmured Esme. "We both just happen to infiltrate that place on the same day? At basically the same time?"

"You're saying we've been played?"

"I'm saying Oz knows more than he's letting on. And I don't like being left in the dark."

"Same here. If I had him, I'd shove him in a dark room and make him talk. Fact is, he's gone. So I'm not sure how I can find any answers. If you've got any ideas, I'd be glad to hear them."

A question burned through Esme's mind.

"Why are you still working on this?" she asked. "Helping me?"

"The Knightmare is a sick, twisted bastard," Devoe snorted. "Word gets out about him, and no one will feel safe using Somnus. I figure after that, we have about a month before the world starts falling apart again." Devoe shook her head. "Can't just walk away while that happens."

"Some mercenary you are."

Devoe shrugged.

"I prefer the term, 'contractor'."

Esme snorted before turning to look at the backyard. The roof of the shed gleamed in the harsh afternoon sunlight. "You report here usually? To give him updates?"

"Yeah, usually," Devoe replied. "He wasn't here today though. Why? What are you thinking?"

Esme got up and walked towards the back door. She opened the hatch to the airlock, and motioned for Devoe to follow.

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