As they walked, the zip made Welga twitch at every nearby motion. Other than a small crowd at registration, the convention center was mostly empty. Tracking showed the bulk of the attendees in the main hall, listening to the next speaker. The map in Welga’s visual showed white dots for all the bots along their path. Some had already turned red, meaning that Platinum’s intel had discovered weapons on them. Many of those belonged to private citizens and would have no connection to protest groups. Humans appeared in green or gray—civilians and staff, no exfactors or registered protesters to deal with. Their primary concern now were the service bots, which could be hacked or modified to attack.

They entered an elevator. Welga’s muscles buzzed from the forced stillness. A tendon in her neck twitched. She tilted her head back to stretch it. The four of them formed a sexy two-dimensional pyramid in the mirrored ceiling.

The reflective surface bulged, then shattered. Glass rained over them.

Welga threw herself over Briella and pushed her to the floor. Ammanuel and Connor fired at the helmet-shaped drone that dropped from the ceiling.

“Por Qué, next floor, emergency stop!” Welga said.

A second drone appeared in the hole above. Welga shot it. The elevator doors parted. Connor ran out and around a corner. Welga pulled Jackson up and out of the enclosed space. Too much of a potential trap. Ammanuel stood in the doorway and shot upward into the elevator. Welga placed Jackson between herself and the wall.

“Troit, status!” Welga demanded.

“Bots amassing at the far end of the hall. I’m engaging.”

Welga expanded Connor’s feed. He fired at the first wave of machines. In another corner, she watched Ammanuel shoot at the elevator’s ceiling, the floor around them littered with shattered metal and plastic. The bots kept coming, one at a time through the hole, the words PURITY NOW stenciled in green on their sides.

Her map showed that they stood in an area of conference rooms. They hadn’t made it up to the residential section, nor would they until they cleared either the elevator or the way to the stairs.

She subvocalized to Hassan on the team channel, “Boss, what are the odds on that second elevator car?”

“We don’t have eyes in there. It’s moving, though.”

As if on cue, the second car’s doors parted. A person in a black suit stood inside.

Welga yelled, “Close the doors! Protest attack under way!”

Stupid civilian, you need to pay better attention to—

The figure moved at a blur, straight toward her and Jackson.

What? Welga blinked. I only have a sticky gun. She fired anyway. The pellet grazed the figure’s hip.

Goddamn, they’re fast!

A blade flashed in their hand.

Welga left Jackson and ran toward them. Knock them down.

They dodged.

Welga whirled.

They reached Jackson, slashed her throat, then stabbed up, right under the sternum.