The Bazaar was a sensory nightmare. Neon lights flickered, casting seizure-inducing strobes over the crowd. The smell was a mix of exotic spices, unwashed bodies, and ozone.

Dejah moved through the crush of people like water. She didn't bump into anyone. She anticipated their movements before they made them.

High above, Casimir leaned over the railing. "He moves like a ghost," he whispered. "Just like her."

"It's a dude," Nate said. "Look at the clothes."

"Clothes lie," Casimir said. "But the gait? The conservation of energy? That's a fingerprint."

Dejah stopped at a stall that looked like a garbage heap. It was piled high with rusted metal, old electronics, and books. The vendor was a man with an eyepatch and a hook for a hand-a cliché, but a dangerous one.

He was currently yelling at a tourist who was trying to buy a plastic amulet.

Dejah's eyes scanned the pile of rust. Her fingers twitched. The magnetic resonance was back. It was faint, buried under layers of oxidation, but it was there. A specific frequency that sang to her nerves.

She reached into a box of old screws and pulled out a coin. It was caked in green and brown crud. It looked like a flattened bottle cap.

"Put that down," the vendor growled. "Not for sale."

"Five bucks," Dejah said. Her voice was pitched lower, rougher, utilizing the chest resonance she had practiced.

"Fifty," the vendor spat. "Or get lost."

Dejah reached into her pocket. She pulled out the wad of crumpled bills she had taken from her shoe.

She held out the cash.

"I'll take it," a voice boomed from behind her.

A gloved hand reached out and pointed at the coin. An elderly man in a pristine white suit stood there, leaning on a cane. Elder Sterling.

Beside him was his grandson, Miles, looking bored and arrogant.

"Five hundred," Sterling said.

The vendor's single eye widened. He snatched the coin from Dejah's hand. "Sold! To the gentleman in white!"

Dejah didn't move. She looked at the vendor, then at Sterling.

"I had it first," she said.

Miles stepped forward. He was a head taller than Dejah. "Beat it, street rat. Do you know who this is? This is Mr. Sterling. He buys what he wants."

"I don't care if he's the Pope," Dejah said calmly. "We had a verbal contract."

Up on the balcony, Casimir grinned. "Oh, this is getting good. The kid has claws."

Sterling looked at Dejah with interest. "Why do you want a rusty piece of metal, boy?"

"Because," Dejah said, "it's not rust. It's a ferrous oxide crust protecting a core of 24-karat gold. This is a Roman Aureus. Minted in 44 BC. Specifically, the 'EID MAR' coin celebrating the assassination of Julius Caesar. The weight is exactly 8.1 grams. Gold this pure has a specific density that feels different in the hand."

The silence that followed was absolute. The vendor's hook hand trembled.

"You're lying," Miles scoffed. "It's junk."

"Check the weight," Dejah said. "Scratch the edge."

Sterling looked at the vendor. "Scratch it."

The vendor took a knife and scraped the edge of the coin. A gleam of pure, buttery gold shone through the grime.

Sterling gasped. "My god."

The vendor stared at the gold. Then greed washed over his face. A dark, ugly greed.

"Not for sale," the vendor said, pulling the coin back to his chest. "Mistake. Not for sale."

"We had a deal!" Miles shouted, his face turning red.

The vendor whistled. From the shadows behind the stall, three massive men emerged. They were built like tanks, with scars and tattoos covering their arms.

"This is the Bazaar," the vendor sneered. "There are no laws here. Give me your wallets. Both of you. And the old man's watch."

Sterling clutched his chest, his face paling. "You... you can't..."

The thugs stepped forward. The crowd around them evaporated, forming a wide circle. No one wanted to get hit by stray blood.

Casimir set his drink down on the railing. "Should we?" Nate asked.

"Wait," Casimir said. "Let's see."

Dejah sighed. "This is inefficient."

The vendor lunged for Sterling's lapel.

Dejah moved.

She grabbed a rusted iron pipe from the table. She didn't swing it like a bat-she didn't have the strength for home runs. She used it as an extension of her limb.

She thrust the end of the pipe into the soft spot of the vendor's armpit, hitting the brachial plexus. The vendor screamed, his arm going numb instantly, dropping the coin.

Dejah caught the coin with her left hand before it hit the ground.

The first thug threw a punch. Dejah dropped to her knees, letting his fist sail over her head. She jammed the pipe behind his knee and pulled. Leverage. His own weight brought him down. As he fell, she drove her elbow into his temple. He collapsed, howling.

The second thug tried to kick her. Dejah rolled, coming up behind him. She threw a handful of metallic dust from the table into his eyes. While he was blinded, she kicked the back of his knee, forcing him down.

The third thug hesitated.

Dejah stood up, twirling the pipe. She looked at him. She let the intent flow.

He turned and ran.

It was over in twelve seconds.

Miles was staring at Dejah with his mouth open. Sterling was clutching his cane, trembling.

"Impressive," Casimir murmured from the balcony. "Very impressive."

The vendor was cradling his numb arm, sobbing.

Dejah walked over to Sterling. She held up the coin.

"Six million," she said. "Transfer it to this account." She handed him a slip of paper with a number scrawled on it. "It's an offshore crypto-wallet. Instant clearing. No banks, no waiting."

Sterling looked at the coin, then at Dejah. "Six... yes. Yes! It's worth ten! You saved my life!"

"Just business," Dejah said.

Sterling nodded to Miles. "Do it. Now."

Miles tapped furiously on his phone. A moment later, Dejah's burner phone buzzed. Funds Verified. 6,000,000 USD equivalent.

Dejah turned to leave.

Behind her, there was a gasp. Then a thud.

Dejah turned back. Sterling was on the ground. His hands were clawing at his chest. His face was turning a terrifying shade of purple.

"Grandfather!" Miles screamed. "Help! Someone help!"

Cardiac arrest.

Miles was panicking. He straddled his grandfather and started pushing on his chest. But his hands were too low, pressing on the xiphoid process.

"Stop," Dejah barked. "You're breaking his ribs and lacerating his liver."

"Get away from him!" Miles yelled, tears streaming down his face. "You took his money! Don't touch him!"

Dejah didn't argue. She stepped forward and shoved Miles. She used her hip to displace his weight. He flew backward, landing on his ass.

She ripped Sterling's silk shirt open. His chest was silent. No rise and fall.

Dejah reached into her pocket and pulled out the tin case. She took out a long, thin titanium alloy needle.

Up on the balcony, Casimir leaned so far over the rail he almost fell. "Needles? Is he... doing acupuncture?"

Dejah found the spot. Pericardium 6 (Neiguan) on the wrist. And GV 26 (Renzhong) under the nose.

She drove the needle into his wrist.

The crowd gasped. Miles screamed, "He's stabbing him!"

Dejah flicked the end of the needle. She wasn't trying to restart the heart with magic; she was stimulating the sympathetic nervous system to trigger a massive adrenaline release.

She placed her palm over his heart and pushed. One hard, decisive compression.

Sterling's body jolted.

Dejah pushed again. "Breathe," she commanded.

Sterling inhaled. It was a ragged, desperate sound, like a drowning man breaking the surface.

Color flooded back into his face. His eyes fluttered open.

Dejah pulled the needle out. A tiny drop of blood welled up, but nothing more.

Sterling looked up at Dejah. His eyes were unfocused, then they sharpened. He saw her. He saw the needle.

"You..." he wheezed. "The pain... it's gone."

"Mitral valve prolapse complicated by acute coronary syndrome," Dejah recited. "Your meds are wrong. You're taking too many beta-blockers and not enough blood thinners. Fire your doctor. He's killing you."

Sterling tried to sit up. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small object. A ring made of dark green jade.

"Take it," he whispered. "The Sterling Token. Show this... and my family will answer."

Dejah took the ring. It was warm. "This is worth more than the coin."

"You saved me," Sterling said. "Who are you?"

Dejah stood up. She pulled her cap down.

She leaned in close, so only he could hear. "Remember the hand that saved you. The code is Asclepius."

She didn't wait for a response. She turned and melted into the crowd. She didn't run. She just vanished.

High above, Casimir Vanderbilt stood up straight. He looked at Nate.

"Find him," Casimir said. His voice was cold, obsessed. "Find that boy. I don't care what it costs. I want to know who he is."

"Why?" Nate asked, still holding his nose.

"Because," Casimir said, watching the spot where Dejah had disappeared. "He fights like a girl I met today. And I want to know which face is the mask."

Dejah walked out of the laundromat and into the cold night air. She had six million dollars. She had a powerful favor. And she had a war to win.

But first, she had to get back into the attic before sunrise.

She touched the jade ring in her pocket. The game had changed. The spare part was now a player.