Viper rarely set foot in places like this. Bars were chaotic, loud, and unclean — the exact opposite of her sterile laboratories and precisely controlled workspaces. If she ever ended up in one, it was usually because Sage had insisted she “relax.” A pointless exercise, in Viper’s opinion.

But tonight, she had a reason. An old informant — unreliable, but useful — had insisted on meeting here, claiming to have information she couldn’t ignore.

The bar reeked of smoke and stale alcohol. Her heels clicked on the sticky floor as she crossed to a dim corner, where the man was already waiting with a glass in hand and a smirk that made her want to reach for a vial of acid.

They exchanged words, business done in low tones. When the deal concluded, he hinted at a different kind of payment. His hand brushed her arm — too familiar, too bold.

Viper’s gaze turned sharp, the clinical part of her mind already choosing which toxin would silence him fastest without drawing attention.

But before she could act, a crash split the noise — a bottle shattered against the man’s head. He went down instantly.

The culprit was a young woman, clearly not from around here, standing over him with a look that dared anyone to interfere. “Nothing to see here,” she said, and somehow, the crowd obeyed. The security dragged the man out as if this were routine.

Viper studied the stranger for a moment, her tone even and measured when she finally spoke.

“I could have handled it myself,” she said coolly, then added after a beat. “But your timing was… efficient.”