Maroo ducked under a laser.

The Corpus were too paranoid—well, rightfully so. She was here to steal their technology. But Void it all, she had reason to complain. The hoops she had to jump through, all for a side job… the system had become too uptight. All because of people like her.

The room purred with traps, cameras, and automated defense systems. And yet, Maroo waltzed through the Kubrowdon's jaws as if she were at one of Ki Teer's parties: A leap, a twirl, some pirouettes, and even a curtsey for extra flair. It helped that she had a small, thin frame-easy to move quickly, even easier to deceive others. Like all her equipment, her blue and black Aether-suit was custom-made, from her waist size down to the masked anti-personnel devices.

Of course, no amount of dancing would get the camera in the next corner to look aside. That's why she came prepared. Maroo twirled the thin disc in her hand, a smirk on her lips. Thieving was all a big game of Komi: except you know all the moves beforehand. With hardly a whistle, it zipped through the air, cutting into the wall and flashing red.

The camera's explosion was loud enough to please the ear, but not loud enough to alert anyone. After all, she had made sure no one was around the containment room. Playing fair never really suited me, she thought, casually walking across where the camera would have spotted her. Every part in proper place, every step calculated. It was how she survived-thieving and living comfortably. Well, as comfortable as a thief with bounties in every faction could live. Well worth the hassle, in her opinion.

All that remained was one locked door, holding what she needed. The whole reason she was here.

Her small fingers fiddled with the console on the wall, seducing it to open. With a sigh of submission, it opened to welcome her into the fortified holding area.

She stepped lightly as naturally as she breathed towards her prize, the prototype for a new Osprey. Maroo pressed a hand to it, feeling it condense into data. Now, the easy part, getting out—

A flash hit her mask's sensors, temporarily blinding her.

Alarms blared. Heavy, mechanical footfalls avalanched toward the room.

"Damn it!" she grunted, desperately trying to regain her senses. Scanners after retrieval now? What in the Void?

Her optical feed de-fuzzed, revealing half a dozen crewmen and Moas. Guns held steady, triggers expecting her blood.

"Alright, I'm coming," Maroo said, raising her hands. "No need for anything rough—"

She ducked, shooting nano-grenades out of her fingers.

The Corpus squad fell to the floor, overwhelmed by the electromagnetic pulses, unable to move. She smirked to herself as she ran,

And that is why I have those.

One mess up, one bad roll of chance, and her entire career was over. At best, killed on sight. At worst, crewmanized indefinitely. Not great options. So, she avoided all the risk she could. Have a backup plan. Have a backup-backup plan. Better yet, have someone do the heavy lifting for you. Riches couldn't be enjoyed if you were dead.

Metallic ringing. Dissonant. Approaching. More proxies were coming. The whole ship was on high alert, aiming to catch her before she could escape. But, even the Tenno don't do what she was about to.

She whipped her hand to the side of her helm, activating the mask to fully cover her face, locking into the rest of her suit. Her tools were where she needed them. Finally, she tapped the buzzing sensor on her arm. Just a little farther. Distant stars shined through the glass in the next room—

Swarms of Corpus crewman, Ospreys, and Moas came from both sides. This time they had no intention of capturing her, opting to open fire on the spot. The sound stung, even with the insulation around her ears. She rolled, dodging toward the windows. Her hand found the Quake-drill, glowing like a superheated, spinning knife. A quick jab ruptured the glass, causing the rest to implode from the pressure differential.

"Better than Grineer accommodations," she yelled to her attackers. "But, afraid I'll being going now."

With a flip, she entered the vacuum of space just as the emergency doors were shutting. The Corpus were no longer a threat, but she had no room to celebrate. With how thin her suit was -one graze, one loose thread, and her body would freeze and explode simultaneously.

Her momentum caused her to spin, weightless, but she still groped for what she was expecting. Her personal ship—the Zetki Swallow—uncloaked, revealing its sleek design as its owner climbed inside. A press of the buttons turned the engine's purr into a roar, tearing far away from the Corpus Obelisk.

All that trouble, for only fifty?

Maroo flipped the chip through her fingers, holding the promised bid of fifty-thousand credits. That'd be enough to last her two weeks, if she spread it thin.

She walked through the tight compartments of her ship. It was her biggest asset and investment; far better what's usually on the market for a light fighter. Orokin-grade engines, Orbiter cloaking tech, Solar Rail capabilities—everything a thief could dream of, and about all she had left.

Maroo slipped into the rations-storage and nabbed a sealed pack of food. The empty shelves sent a spike of anxiety down her back. No, I have money. It's okay. She told herself. I'll find jobs. I always do.

The words were quickly swallowed by the rising tension in her head. She hadn't expected to use her nano-EMPs back there. How many did she have left? Just a short walk led her to the armament room, even more hauntingly sparse. She crouched to look in a crate, seeing the tiny beads glowing as they rolled freely on the bottom.

"Muck." She was all she had left. Just to take care of that small squad earlier took fifteen.

Fifty Thousand Credits won't get me both food and supplies, she bit her lip. With a grunt, Maroo stood, pacing to the cockpit. The hallways were littered with dirt and grime, tracked in from her missions across the system. It bugged her to no end, but she didn't have time to clean. She was to pre-occupied with trying to survive. All her usual channels had run dry: they'd replaced her with far more reliable Tenno, leaving her with taking contracts no one else would.

She threw her helmet on the co-pilot's seat, threw a dried piece of jerky into her mouth, and dropped into the much cushier—but worn-down—captain's chair.

Damn Tenno got it easy, she thought. Take all the easy prizes, leave only the risky or small scores for us humans. Ever since the Warframes appeared, it became much harder to make a living. They could fight better, live longer, and—worst of all—steal more silently. Then again,if she was a suit of armor that could blow up a town or be invisible all the time, she'd be drowning in credits—no, Platinum. Everyone took credits, but even beggars had those. It was that special coin that could really buy your way into things. And the Tenno had the largest control of the market. Not to mention their personal Cephalons, Orbiters, omniscient mothers…

Maroo shook her head. No, she wasn't the one to mope. If she had to adapt, that was what she was going to do. She'd just have to learn, to plan. It might take some time, but she always found a way. There was always a guaranteed success. One just had to really look for it. Everyone else would be jumping to their death, while she lived—

Her Holo-communicator blipped. She reached for it on the ledge, lazily flicking it on. A projected screen appeared in front of her, displaying a new message. One from a name she did not recognize.

She jolted forward, scanning in every waveband around the ship. Who got her private address? How did they get it? Was her position compromised?

After triple-checking nothing was coming up, she turned to the holo-comm. That either meant she was safe, or she was going to die. She flipped all four of the metal switches to ready her escape pods. Just in case. The ship would be lost, but better than the alternative.

Maroo, the message read. I have a proposition for you; one that only someone of your record could perform. Please, call this address back at any time. I look forward to our conversation.

Newborn.

Newborn? She had never heard of that name. Who was this person?

Feeling she didn't have much of a choice, she slipped her helmet on and called this… 'Newborn'. They picked up immediately. She searched for anything to give her a clue but huffed when greeted with black. They weren't showing themselves. Despite her sending video data, whatever it was remained hidden.

"Maroo," a deep, distorted voice said. "You look quite lovely."

Doesn't sound scrambled. Which meant he wasn't masking his voice. Probably.

"First you call a woman, then you don't even show yourself?" She said. "I can't be charmed if I can't see your face, you know."

"My apologies," he said. "I am trying to be as honest as possible—"

"Yeah, obviously."

"… but I must be cautious with my identity. Please, ease yourself. All I want is to propose a job. No strings attached, you can walk away from it without any consequences."

Maroo held herself on edge. A man that could contact her privately without her knowing how wouldn't just let her go.

"I can assure you," he said, as if reading her thoughts. "I promise what I say is true. Say no, and you'll never hear from me again. Just listen: I need something stolen from the Grineer. Specifically, something that could not be stolen for the past fifty years."

"What, the Queen's piss?" she snorted.

"Something close, despite your crudeness. I'm looking for something called 'Orokin Blood'."

"Never heard of it." It's not real.

"No one has. No one except the Queen's closest circle. They keep it with them at all times. However, sometimes, they have excess. Some they cannot store it all in their secure vaults. This will be your chance, get anything over a vial of it, and I shall pay you handsomely."

"Uh-huh," she rolled her eyes. "I'm not chasing something that I've never seen. I've been around a while, Newborn. And I can tell you if I haven't seen it, it's not real."

"There is a reason no one has seen it; much like no one has ever seen the Queens. Because they guard it so closely. I cannot divulge more without you agreeing to this proposition, but you must believe me. I will pay you ten thousand—"

"Credits? Not worth chasing a fairy tale."

"Platinum, actually, if you secure it."

Maroo howled with laughter.

"Wow!" she sighed. "First you say I should rob something that doesn't exist? Then, offer money that doesn't exist? Bold moves, baby-man."

"How about… five hundred. Up front."

"You want me to chase this 'Orokin Blood'? And you'll give me five hundred Platinum right now, if I say yes?"

"That is correct."

"Sure. I'm no idiot."

She still chuckled to herself as she looked at her information, scanning for the amount of Platinum she had. Fifty sat in wait, only to be used in emergencies. The number remained stagnant. Maroo occasionally eyed the black screen, which was silent.

Her laughter died as the fifty rocketed to five hundred.

"It's fake," she said. "the Plat isn't real."

"See for yourself."

She materialized some from her bank, snatching it and looking with an expert's eye. Working in the thieving business lent itself well to hacking and forgery; and she had plenty of experience in both. She checked for the usual signs: missing inscriptions, incorrect aberrations, wrong lumen level. But everything was perfect: which may not confirm its authenticity, but it'd certainly fool any vendor.

Maroo was sitting on five hundred platinum. For a Tenno, that might be nothing. But for anyone else… for a thief who was nearly broke…

"Get at least one vial of their Orokin Blood, and that ten thousand Platinum will be yours."

She had questions, but she knew she wouldn't get answers. "Well, I agreed, didn't I? Give me all the info you have. Can't do a heist on just what you've said."

Maroo dredged through the thick snow of Pluto.

The wind howled, much like her insides screaming to return to her comfy ship. Couldn't she have just messaged around, found people willing to take on the job? Going this far to recruit someone who probably turned their holo-communicator into a bomb…

The less people that know about this job, the better. She reminded herself. If people knew about a ten thousand Plat score, she'd be robbed of it before it was even hers. Maroo needed this money: which meant she had to get allies who didn't want payouts. Besides, this person was the best weapons and demolitions expert this side of the asteroid belt. That was enough to balance out their insanity.

It was strange; she had been traversing for almost half an hour and hadn't seen a single sign of life. A blizzard was raging, nearly obscuring the path. No human could live in a place like this.

"This is the only time the Queens have excess," Maroo remembered, focusing on what Newborn said. "I do not know when or where they're storing it, but it will be off the Queen's hands for a small window. One of the higher Grineer leaders will be managing this operation; and they will certainly be acting differently for such a task. Not often are they contacted by the Queens themselves."

Finally, she found it. In the midst of endless white, a small cave entrance flickered with orange-red light. The roar of the weather died as she entered, accentuated by the small change in temperature. Only a short walk opened to a wide chasm, a damp high ceiling, musty air. Smells of oil and melted metal danced, surrounding piles of salvage and scattered workbenches.

"Mor," Maroo said. "It's me. Maroo—"

"You get out of here you thief!" An augmented voice screamed.

A force slammed into Maroo's back, sending her crashing into the cold rock face. She was on her feet in an instant, shaking her head to fight the ringing in her ears.

"Mor!" She cried. "Easy!"

A mechanical, heavily augmented body with the head of a Cephalon whipped around, holding a pistol so modified it looked more like a cannon than a sidearm. "Aha! Maroo! You step far too lightly! Thankfully my mines are remote-activated!"

'Thankfully'? Maroo thought. Play it slow, cool. She's already being friendly, keep it that way.

Mor turned. "Come to browse my wares?! Or perhaps, am I to look at your friends!" She said, looking at the pistol on Maroo's hip.

"No… not this time." She clutched her aching side, finding an empty work-bench to sit. Her feet dangled, letting her swing them. "I actually want to offer something."

"Me?!" Mor said, picking up a rifle and cleaning it. "Are you giving me your friends! Oh! Oh! You know I take good care of them!" She pointed at a pile of weapons, all so far modified it was hard to tell what they were originally.

"No, I actually have a job. And I want you in."

"…A job?" Mor said. "Like… a service job? A cleaning job? Oh! A blowing up job?!"

"No, Mor." Maroo forced herself to stay calm. "A thieving job. But don't worry, it'll be probably be a loud one." Keep the tone low, she thought. Void knows she has this whole cave set to collapse. Just for the fun of it.

"Oh! Oh! I like loud!" Mor said. "Who are we louding?!"

"The Grineer Queens."

"Yes! Yes! Lots of loudness!"

"So, you're in?"

"Mm-hmm! Mm-hmm! I want to explode the—" The Cephalon stopped, freezing. An eerie silence filled the space, before being pierced by the Cephalon muttering. "No violence. No death. Only service. Only service. Only service. Only—"

"…Mor?" Maroo asked.

"Yes?"

"You're… on this job?"

"Yes! Yes! I like loud jobs!"

"Good… I'll uh, message you when I have a plan together. So make sure your Holo-comm works."

"Of course! But, leaving so soon? Are you sure you don't want me to at least look at your weapon?"

"It's doing fine. I clean it like you told me to." She lied.

"Good, good. I… look forward to hearing more about the loud job!"

"Lovely," Maroo said, walking into the blizzard, where at least her ship could pick her up. Mor would provide any and all weapons she would need, and didn't honestly know what she would need, for a job like this.

She laughed to herself, as she walked up the ramp of her ship, eager to down some meds to heal. Mor was the easy one. The other one was even more necessary, but would be much harder to… convince.

At least the weather isn't trying to kill me.

Despite the comforting thought, Maroo was tense, her suppressed Lex at the ready. An overgrown and abandoned Grineer base sprawled out before her, only accentuated by sounds of odd animals and leaves rustling.

There was no way he'd let Maroo just walk in. Or anyonewalk in. But damn it, she had to get one of them on her squad. And like Mor, he'd leave more Plat for her.

She treaded carefully, avoiding any noise. The closer she could get, the better—

Maroo ducked at a shotgun blast. She rolled behind a broken slab of metal, peeking to see the threat. An Ember Warframe held a Hek, aiming with pinpoint accuracy. The Tenno didn't approach, cautiously taking cover with a mossy boulder.

A Shadow Specter, Maroo realized. He wouldn't have any real Tenno on his side.

She bolted, prompting the Ember's weapon to snap. The roar of the shell echoed in the forest, sending a howl of pain through her shoulder. She grunted—just a graze—but was still enough to pop her shield.

No wonder you have no friends, she thought spitefully. You have the hospitality of a Ghoul.

The Ember deigned to follow, instead trying to hit her from afar. Maroo turned a corner, using the rail wall as cover, moving deeper into the derelict fortress. Xarra could be anywhere. She had a hunch she'd know when she found him. He didn't have too many tricks up his… armor.

Knives whistled through the air as she stood again. Maroo rolled, hearing the shuddering impact of the edges digging into the metal. A Wukong Warframe sat in the trees, watching her closely; another specter. From his vantage, it could see down the entire path. There were no doors, no windows, no alternate routes she could take.

"Xarra, you damn Anansa!" Maroo roared. The amount she was going through…

It'd be worth it in the end.

She readied her Lex. If she played it right, she wouldn't have to kill the specter. There probably wasn't even enough firepower on her for that. Peeking the corner earned another whistle, thud of the Kunai quaking in the floor beside her.

Right, she thought to herself. If I die right now, it was a good run.

She turned onto the path, sliding low to avoid more attacks. The Wukong missed all three shots, impaling the wall. She jolted to her feet, aimed locked at its chest. One shot. Two. Three. Four. The suppressed fire died to forced clicks. Maroo focused, seeing the Warframe stagger, stumbling on the branch, before falling to the ground.

Maroo sighed, lowering the gun, before a Kunai zipped past, cutting her arm.

"Muck it all!" She screamed, stomping onward, clutching her arm. No way did Xarra have more than two specters. He probably felt sick after looking at just one.

Turning a few more corners led to a wide empty room. The roof had long since decayed, leaving massive leaves to stoop inside. Several stagnant pools of water sat in dented areas of the floor; dirt, grime, and lichen flourishing in them. Only one corner of the room was masked by darkness. But Maroo could distinguish one pool hidden in the penumbra. One that looked clean.

She raised the pistol and shot. "Xarra. If I climbed all the way through your muckin' maze, at least don't hide when I find you."

The pool shrunk, coalescing at the middle. As if molded by invisible hands, it formed into a vaguely human shape. Color and texture returned, revealing Xarra, and his Hydroid Warframe.

"You could have knocked." His voice was as rough as the debris under her feet.

"Oh, I'm sorry. My hospitality was shot off my Voiddin' back!" She said. "You better be thankful I went through all of this. I got a good job for you."

"Not interested."

"Oh, no no," Maroo shook her head. "You are not doing that to me. I played your little game, went to all the trouble of reaching out to you. At least be a decent person and hear me out."

"I'm not interested in doing any jobs."

"It's against the Grineer."

"You didn't hear me."

"It's a small crew."

"Doesn't matter."

"You'd be doing Lotus a favor."

He hesitated. The sign Maroo needed to continue, "could put you in some good standing."

"That's not possible. Don't patronize me."

"I'm not. I wouldn't take two injuries through your damn specters just to patronize you. I went through all this Ghoulsack for you, Xarra. Not another Tenno."

"…How many on the crew?"

"Three. Including you."

"How long will the job take?"

"A few weeks, depending. Got to get some intel before we fully strategize."

"And what are we getting out of it?"

Maroo clenched her teeth. The reason she was so adamant about Xarra was because he didn't care about the bounties, usually. Every other Tenno would nab her for all it was worth. They'd know she'd need a Tenno for something like this.

"One hundred Platinum," she said.

"You lied. Took too long to respond."

"One thousand."

"No, it's higher," he growled. "I thought you didn't come to patronize me."

"Ten thousand, alright!" She said, before kicking herself. Did she really let it slip? Her nerves were on edge. If all of this amounted to the same result as another Tenno…

"By the Void…" He muttered. "That is… a lot."

"It is. But I'm getting a majority cut. No arguing on that."

"Fine," he waved. "I don't care much anyway. I'll take one thousand. Not like that won't last me until the end of the next millennia."

"…Good," she sighed, too worn to hide her surprise. "I'll message you when I have more of a plan."

"Okay."

She turned toward the exit. Now she had a Warframe's power. Who knows what she'd run into on this; Void knew you had to have a Tenno for any job these days.

But now she had her crew. Small enough to get the job done, while still keeping her share fat. Mor could handle diversions, weapons, explosives; they'd be ready for any tech that they'd face. Xarra could bail them out if things got too rough. And Maroo? Well, she'd do all the work. As usual.

She made one step before remembering something crucial.

"Xarra?"

"Mm."

"Call off your damn specters. I'm not doing this again."

15