The laser cutter hissed begrudgingly. Void crouched beside it, jaw tight, the tip of her soldering iron twitching in her hand like a blade she wasn't sure she wanted to use. Another adjustment, another thermal hiccup, another slow exhale. It wasn't the diode - she'd already replaced that twice - it was the goddamn beam alignment, and that meant the clamp mount was slipping again. She pressed her thumb hard against the edge of the component housing until the skin creaked. A sigh escaped through her teeth, sharp and exhausted. "Okay, Aereth," she muttered, voice soft in that way she saved only for the machine that never judged her. "Be that way. I'll just go out into the fucking world, find the rarest goddamn part in the city, and hope to fuck it's not overpriced by some scrap-goblin with a superiority complex."
Boots on. Hoodie zipped. The city's breath hit her in the face the second she stepped out - damp, metallic, pulsing with noise like a beast that couldn't stop growling. Void walked fast, like if she paused for even a second she'd think too much. She didn't want to think. Thinking was dangerous.
She found herself pushing open the door to Steel Circuit, one of those tucked-away shops with no brand identity, no online presence, and exactly the kind of disorganized glory that made her heart beat a little faster. The air inside reeked of dust and coffee that had been left on the burner for a little bit too long. A bell chimed behind her, a half-hearted, mechanical sound that didn't even try to be cheerful.
She moved through the aisles like a phantom - quiet, fast, no wasted motion. Optical racks. Cooling modules. And there, barely visible under a yellowed plastic price tag - her goddamn salvation. Type-4 precision clamp mount. Last unit. Unopened. Untouched.
Her hand reached out.
Another hand landed on it.
She blinked. Then slowly turned her head.
The girl beside her looked like she belonged in a glam-mech magazine, if those existed. Scarlet hair, curled and unruly but in a way that said it looked like that on purpose. Deep green eyes that were already narrowed, not in confusion, but calculation. She wore eyeliner the way other people wore armor - thick, unapologetic, precise. She was close. Close enough that Void caught a whiff of something industrial but warm. Grease, metal, and maybe vanilla?
"Cute," the girl said, fingers still resting on top of Void's. "Mine."
Void, completely unfazed, didn't move her hand. "You're mistaken."
Scarlet-hair's grin was slow, like a heat source winding up. "You're adorable. And also blocking my clamp mount."
Void's lips curved - small, sharp. "That clamp mount's for a laser cutter in critical condition. Unless you're performing surgery on a goddamn tank, I suggest you back off"
There was a pause. A flicker of tension, but it wasn't violent. It was that other kind. The kind that curled low in the gut and made her breath come just a bit slower.
Red menace didn't let go. "Hydraulic stabilizer rig. I'm rebuilding the left arm assembly. This part fits into the tension array like it was born for it."
"So was mine," Void said. "It's in pain. Are you really gonna deny a machine its chance to live?"
"Oh no," the girl said, biting her lip with mock sincerity, "don't bring guilt into this. I'm impervious."
Void shifted her weight forward, not pulling her hand away, just leaning a little closer. Her voice lowered. "Then I'll just bring facts. That rig of yours? Probably could use a workaround. My cutter? No precision mount, no clean beam. No clean beam, no commission. No commission..." She smiled, just a little. "No money for parts. It's a tragic chain of events. Really."
The crimson woman stared at her. The smirk faded a notch - not gone, just... quieter now. "So what you're saying is, your entire operation hinges on this one part?"
"Yes."
"Dramatic."
Void tilted her head. "Practical."
"I like dramatic," she said, voice silk over steel. "You look like someone who makes sparks just to see them burn."
"And you look like someone who throws wrenches into engines for fun."
"Sometimes," mysterious girl admitted, almost too softly.
Their hands were still touching. Still. Neither moved.
"Name's Keira."
"Void," she replied.
Keira's lips parted slightly, tongue flicking out to trace the corner of her mouth like she was savoring something sweet - or dangerous. Her eyes didn't leave Void's, not for a second. She let the silence stretch, the grin pulling wider as if the name itself amused her, turned her on, or both. Then finally, like she was letting it drip from her tongue, she said, "Figures."
Void raised a brow. "Fuck does that mean?"
Keira shrugged. "You just... Feel like someone who named herself out of spite and never looked back."
Void fought the smile. Lost.
The air felt warmer than before. And the shop didn't buzz so much as hum around them now.
Keira let her fingers shift, not to pull away, just brushing along the edge of Void's ring. "You're not going to let go, are you."
"I was hoping you would," Void said.
Keira exhaled a laugh - soft, but not weak. "You've got claws. I respect that."
"Good. Because I'm not de-clawing for anyone."
They were too close now. By accident, probably. Or maybe on purpose. Void wasn't sure who leaned in first. But they were locked in this strange, subtle war of wills, neither one raising their voice, neither one backing off. Just words... And eyes.
Void murmured, "You always get this intimate with strangers?"
"Only the cute ones."
She snorted. "Bitch, you don't even know me."
"I don't need to. You're the kind of girl who talks to her tools like they're alive, eats once a day when she remembers, and probably has more loyalty to her soldering iron than to any of her exes."
Void's heart did something unfamiliar once more. Twitched. Not bad. Just... noticeable.
Keira added, quieter now: "Also, your hands are shaking. You're overclocked."
Void blinked. Her fingers were trembling. Barely. But still. "You profiling me?"
"Maybe. Occupational hazard."
"So... What's your occupation?"
Keira smirked. "Chaos. Mostly."
Void huffed, half-annoyed, half-impressed. "That's not a job."
"Neither is 'fixing the same laser cutter every three days,' but here we are."
Another pause. Still no one moved. Still touching.
Then Keira pulled her hand away, slow and unbothered. "Fine."
Void looked up sharply. "What?"
"You need it. I've got backups. Mine's an ego project. Yours sounds like survival."
Void blinked. "You're just... Giving it to me? Like that?"
Keira shrugged. "Why not? It's hot watching you argue. Plus, now you owe me."
Void felt her stomach flip, but not in the bad way. "Owe you how exactly?"
Keira pulled something from her jacket - a battered pen - and reached for a price tag hanging from the shelf. She scribbled a number on the back, then tucked it into Void's palm, fingers pressing just a second too long.
"You text me when you're done fixing your cutter. I want to see it. And you."
Void stared at the number. Then back at her. "You have got to be fucking kidding me. Seriously?"
"Oh yeah." Keira stepped back. "Take the part, text me your sins. Don't disappoint me, Void. And try not to combust when I walk away."
Void didn't combust. Not right away, anyway. But she did watch Keira walk out the door, scarlet hair swinging, hips moving with that effortless confidence of someone who knew exactly what effect they had.
She stood there for a full minute, holding the clamp mount in one hand and the number in the other, unsure whether to feel joy or confusion.
Then muttered under her breath, to no one and nothing, "Well shit. That happened. Eitria's gonna love this story."