Void stretched her shoulders, muttering, "Time to check in on the old ghosts while those two keep themselves busy..." She padded over to her netrunning rig, pulling the cyberdeck closer. The thing looked like it had been scavenged from half a dozen corpses: matte-black patch plates, screws gone rainbow from too much heat, wires soldered in strange angles. Frankenstein tech, just like her.

She itched for a proper neural link, but the idea of flying out to some back-alley clinic overseas only to wake up with a soon-to-be-obsolete neuroprocessor didn't exactly scream worth it. A week of downtime for something the market would make ancient in six months? No thanks. The deck was ugly, but it worked - and it never let her down...

Keira's workshop screamed "abandoned shrine to half-finished projects and tendency to hoard." It was Keira's sanctum - or at least it had been, judging from the towers of boxes, half-dismantled gadgets, coils of wire, and a graveyard of projects that never made it past the "cool idea" phase. Void nudged a pile of metal beams off an old stool with the side of her boot, earning a sharp look from Keira.

"Careful, pinkie," Keira said, brushing her fringe out of her eyes as she stacked a bundle of cables. "That's organized chaos you're stomping on."...

Marzena paced the kitchen tiles with a frantic rhythm, her phone pressed so tightly to her ear that it left a mark. "No, I haven't seen her since Friday," she told the neighbor in a voice carefully pitched with a tremor of worry. "She just... She vanished, and I- well, you know how sensitive she is. I'm terrified something happened." Her free hand fluttered against her chest like a nervous bird. "I keep thinking the worst. I barely slept."...

The plates still held the faint warmth of breakfast when Keira stacked them into the sink and flicked Void a knowing look - it was her turn. Void stretched out of her chair, sauntered over, and slung the towel over her shoulder before twisting the tap open. She let her attention drift between the running water, the dishes, and Amy, who lingered nearby like a shadow waiting for permission to exist.

"I can... I can do them..."...

"What. The fuck," Keira groaned awake, shoulder screaming as she realized she'd been cuddling her spiked bat like it was a stuffed toy. "Brilliant. Hug your murder stick to sleep like a fucked-up five-year-old. No wonder your ribs feel like glass." She shifted, and sure enough - one of the spikes had broken skin. A slow bleed, nothing dramatic, but it stung like hell. "Tough bitch, downgraded to self-harm via snuggle-bat. Gold star, Keira."...