He reached into his trench coat, but instead of pulling his pulse-pistol, he withdrew a small, jagged bypass chip. He slammed it into the primary terminal. The screens flickered, then turned a steady, calm blue. "What did you do?" Jax whispered.

"Late on the bill, Jax," Harley said, his voice a gravelly monotone.

A mission involving a high-stakes heist in the Upper Spires.

Harley walked toward him, his metal hand glinting under the strobing lights. "The Syndicate doesn't do payment plans. They do shut-offs."

Harley stopped at the door, the neon light of Energie 1 reflecting in his synthetic iris. "Because sometimes the dark is the only place where things actually get done."