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hunt, V team had probed every job offer, every mercenary listing, every possible rumor of Mishka’s specialties on every board and page she might have advertised on. They spent weeks browsing the Underground Nikkei and Dead List. They had a Chanscan reading the busiest, sleaziest imageboards and criminal channels for any sign of her. They even set an unnecessarily large partition of Alopex to look for codes and hidden messages in all of the above. But that would have defeated the purpose. Mishka wasn’t talking in code to anyone. She was most certainly on her own. If she was online, she’d be offering her craft publicly. They knew she had work because they’d gotten in her way. Omfavnet cost her a pretty penny when an employer saw her clash with Valhalla and decided she was damaged goods. Project Abruptum began with a routine investigation. They had no clue at first it was Mishka working for Birlacorp in a black flag operation against themselves. But Birlacorp and Omfavnet Selskap had no listings anywhere V team could probe. C team insisted that there were none. That she must have handled it all in the real world.
    C team was insistent about it because they didn’t want anyone searching the one dirty corner of the nets that V hadn’t searched. The only place online that Valhalla wouldn’t risk sending Alopex or any but a senior team because the danger was too great. The only place so reckless it lacked contact barriers and risked all the demented minds who dared to venture there. The place they now knew for certain, despite the checks and assurances of C team, that Mishka had indeed been hiding.
    â€œShe’s on the Black Crag!” exclaimed Violet. Her team stared at her, shocked. All four were suddenly back in the barracks.
    Varg cringed. “Did you just say that out loud?”
    â€œOh shit,” said Veikko.
    Vibeke closed her eyes. Someone had said “Black Crag.” It was only a matter of time.
    â€œMaybe nobody heard,” suggested Violet. “Maybe the—”
    All four heard the link alarm. Then came an Australian voice. The most damnable voice in Valhalla.
    â€œV team to C team office, please. Again,” added Cato.
    They skulked offline, and Violet’s face burned red. They had made this walk four times before. Since they first asked for clearance, C had put a monitor on them. Every time they so much as mentioned its name, they got called into C’s office for another little chat. The worst had been in September, and then they had only said the name because two and a quarter teams had just been slaughtered on it. It was the darkest day in Valkyrie history, and C team used it to teach them a damn lesson. And here they were again. Cato let them in with an expression that Violet wanted to rip off its underlying muscles.
    Churro sat behind his desk looking like a disappointed father. Cato stood beside him, and Violet tried to amuse herself thinking of the man as a mother. She couldn’t for long. The term “Thought Police” applied more accurately.
    â€œTell me, how many teams are there in Valhalla?”
    Churro wasn’t pulling any punches. He was in full cruelty mode from the start. Vibeke wasn’t going to have it.
    â€œWe have proof Mishka was—”
    â€œTell me, Vibeke. How many teams?”
    Vibeke stewed. “Twenty.”
    â€œAnd how many did we have in August?”
    â€œTwenty-two. But—”
    â€œTwenty-three. We had the beginnings of a Z team. We had,” he said, smiling sardonically, “a whole alphabet.”
    Veikko chided, “The runic alphabet actually has—”
    â€œWe had, V team, nine junior Valkyries! Nine lives we do not have now! Why, V Team, do we not have them?”
    Because of a race war. Because of a fight Valhalla shouldn’t have been involved in. Because C team didn’t do their job and watch over the junior teams. Because the junior teams got in over their