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Rash mobsters attacking as revenge? While the Wireforts may have been the real culprits? No, perhaps that wasn’t correct. Just because they, on an organizational basis, had reason to hate each other and send otherworldly nightmares, that didn’t mean they hadn’t accumulated grudges from others on an individual basis.

It simply would have been a clean answer if it were a large organization. End sighed. Still silence from Blitz. That flamboyant idiot didn’t do something stupid and get himself killed by that random thug he picked up, did he? End scowled as her Heinbox beeped once more. The slums huh? Looked to be an entire day wasted on trips down the memory lane.

With a shrug, she began the Iron Revolution once more, bits of metal disintegrating around her and forming into new bullets to slot into her handgun. It would be a pain to go there with nothing but six bullets in the chamber, and the slums was one place that she did not want to be caught bulletless in.

For better or worse, reaching the sunless landfill of Neo Babylon took only a half hour’s walk, and within the perpetual gloom of the dank streets, Josephine couldn’t help but wish she had a gas mask with her. Too many years spent in a comfy, odor-free apartment suite meant that the stench of blood and shit was particularly pungent, but, if nothing else, there were few down-trodden losers occupying the streets. If she wasn’t making sure to stare down every single one of those desperate plebians, Josephine could have actually ignored them.

But she used to be the ignored in here, and knew just how great that advantage gave.

Soon, the raven-haired woman found herself at a heavily bolt door to a tin shed. The others may have been heading towards Cash’s informants, but End had her own. With her left hand, she thumped thrice on the door.
[b]
“Jamieson? It’s your cousin.”[/b]