Free Deus Ex: Black Light by James Swallow

thinks Adam Jensen is a corpse. Why not let it stay that way? Go off the grid and don’t come back…” He sighed. “I’m thinking about it myself.”
    “No.” Jensen shook his head, a cold surge of righteous anger tightening in his chest. “I’ve had enough of being one step behind
them
.” He caught himself before he said
the Illuminati
. Pritchard knew full well who he meant. “They broke open my life. They destroyed everything that mattered to me. I lost all choice about who or what I was…” The black polycarbonate fingers of his hand closed into a fist. “I’ve got a year-long gap in my memories. So I’m done letting them take from me, or anyone else.”
    Despite himself, Pritchard let out a derisive snort. “What do you think you’re going to do, Jensen? Take the fight to them?”
    He met the other man’s gaze. “You know me well enough to know the answer to that question.”
    “You’re deluded.”
    “No.” Jensen looked away as the people mover slowed to a halt. “I just don’t have anything left to lose.”
    * * *
    “Cold here,” said Stacks, as they walked down the stalled escalators from the station and out on to the windblown street.
    Jensen nodded absently as he looked around. They had emerged near Derelict Row, a sprawling construction site that in 2027 had been the beginning of a planned redevelopment initiative. Now it was a colossal heap of wreckage resembling the remnants of a war zone. What walls were still standing were covered with a layer of fly-posters bearing strident anti-aug slogans – PROTECT OUR FUTURE, KEEP OUR STREETS HUMAN, ARE YOUR CHILDREN SAFE ?
    More of the dispossessed congregated around the ruins in a ragged shantytown, and from it Jensen caught the odor of greasy, cooked meat on the breeze.
    “I’m gonna go get me something…” Stacks went on, catching the same scent.
    “That’s rat they’re barbequing over there,” Pritchard told him. “Just so you know.”
    “I ain’t choosy. Just hungry.” The other man jogged across the street and started a negotiation with a vendor.
    Pritchard watched him go. “Do you trust that person?”
    “He saved my life, helped me escape the WHO clinic where we were being held. I owe him for that.”
    The hacker eyed him. “You didn’t answer my question.”
    “He hasn’t given me a reason not to trust him,” said Jensen. “And right now I need as many allies as I can get.”
    Stacks came back with a stringy hunk of meat on a skewer, attacking it like he was starving. He walked with difficulty, limping with each off-step. “Y’all wuh-want a bite?”
    “I’ll pass,” said Jensen. “You okay?”
    “Stiff,” he said, by way of explanation. “Where now?”
    “This way.” Pritchard started walking.
    Every other building was dark and unlit. Those that hadn’t been covered with metallic safety panels to lock them off from potential squatters were skeletal frames that had been denuded of everything. Blank, dark voids where windows had once been looked back at them like the eye sockets of a skull, and everywhere there were piles of debris.
    “After the incident, a lot of these places were just left to rot,” said Pritchard. “No-one had a reason to come back and rebuild.”
    They turned a corner and Jensen saw a familiar sight – the Chiron Building, the apartment complex where he had lived during his time working for Sarif. The Chiron looked different now; there were heavy poured-concrete jersey barriers blocking off the main entrance, the kind that one would see on a military base. Outside, an automated security bot rolled back and forth on an endless patrol, its scanners projecting a fan of amber laser light across its path.
    On the wall of the apartment, Jensen saw the same ‘naturals only’ symbol that had been on the side of the train carriages. The robot spotted him and turned in Jensen’s direction, rising up on its wheels to point a gun barrel toward him as a warning. He ignored it, and fell