Morning in their place came with the sound of tools instead of birds.
Void woke to the metallic rhythm of a grinder singing somewhere beyond the thin wall of the spare room. Not an angry sound. Rather, a happy one. Sandy-happy. One that meant he'd found an excuse to take something apart and call it "organizing."
She rolled out of bed, pulled on her hoodie, and followed the noise into what Sandy generously called his "smithy."
It was a garage once. Now it looked like a museum curated by someone with violent hobbies and a streak of sentiment. Racks of armor plates lined one wall, some still scorched, others patched with mismatched welds. Weapons hung above a long workbench like trophies. Shotguns. Pistols. Rifles. A katana with a cracked edge. A chromed SMG with a dent in the stock shaped suspiciously like a skull.
Sandy stood in the middle of it all, grinning like a kid on a birthday.
"Void!! Perfect timing. Come, behold my shame and glory."
She squinted. "You looted a small war."
"Large war," he corrected, lifting a heavy ballistic vest off a hook. "Still ongoing, in fact. This one? Pulled it off a Tyger Claw who thought 'stealth' meant neon tattoos and a laser sight."
Void took it, testing the weight. "How'd he die?"
"Eh... Ran into traffic while trying to flank me. City did the rest."
He moved on without pause, gesturing to a chrome helmet with a spiderweb crack through the visor.
"And this? Maelstrom brute. Tried to headbutt me."
Void raised a brow. "Did it work?"
"On the helmet, yeah. On his neck, no."
She snorted.
Sandy lifted a revolver from the bench, the same brutal steel one he'd handed her at the airport. "And this beauty? Valentinos. Fancy bastard - thought gold filigree meant accuracy."
"And...?"
"Missed me. Hit his friend. Needless to say that was the end of their friendship." He gave the gun a loving look. "As for this puppy? She got herself a new - reliable - companion."
Void leaned against a table, arms folded. "You collect like a dragon."
"Damn right. Dragons never forget who tried to kill them."
He reached under the bench and dragged out a battered chestplate with a cartoon shark spray-painted across it.
"Oh! This one's special too. Sixth Street. Guy charged me screaming about 'heritage.' Slipped on oil and dislocated his knee. Dropped the armor, the rifle... And his dignity."
Void shook her head. "You're a walking crime scene."
"History," he corrected. "Preserved in steel."
Behind them, the door creaked.
Emmie stood there with a mug in hand, hair still slightly undone from sleep, eyes already sharp. She took in the scene: Sandy mid-brag. Void half-smiling. The wall of weapons.
"You're teaching her bad habits," she said.
Sandy scoffed. "I'm teaching her history."
"You're teaching her clutter."
Emmie's gaze slid to Void. "Come with me."
Void hesitated. "But I was enjoying the storytime."
"You'll survive without it."
Sandy waved them off. "Ah, fine. I'll show her the grenades later."
Emmie did not dignify that with a response. She turned and walked back towards the kitchen.
Void followed.
The kitchen was smaller. Quieter. Real light filtered through a dirty window instead of neon. Emmie set her mug down and leaned against the counter, arms crossed.
"You didn't sleep," she said.
Void shrugged. "Jet lag."
"You paced for an hour."
Void grimaced. "You hear everything?"
"I don't need to hear," Emmie said. "You moved like you were waiting for an alarm."
Silence stretched between them.
"So," Emmie said calmly, "why are you here?"
Void leaned back against the fridge. "You know... Work. Surgery."
"That's not an answer."
Void's jaw tightened. "It's the official one."
"I'm not asking officially."
Emmie stepped closer, speaking softly. "You don't cross an ocean for curiosity. You cross it because something is burning behind you."
Void looked away.
"Poland," Emmie continued, "quiet city. Mechanic who'd tear the sky down for you. Girl who looks at you like you're a miracle."
Void's head snapped up. "Don't."
"Why?"
"Because that's not fair."
Emmie tilted her head. "Neither is leaving them with a 'maybe'."
Void exhaled sharply. "You don't know them."
"I know what it sounds like when someone is pretending they don't."
Another beat.
"Bet my remaining lung Keira would've stopped you if she could," Emmie said. "And Amy would've blamed herself for even letting you go."
Void's hands curled into fists.
"Don't use them."
"I'm not using them," Emmie replied. "I'm simply naming them."
Void stared at the floor. "They don't need this hanging over them."
"And yet," Emmie said gently, "you brought it upon them anyway."
The grinder whined louder in the other room. Sandy was humming to himself.
Void laughed once, humorless. "You always do this?"
"Only when someone lies badly."
Void rubbed her face. "I didn't come here to die."
"I know."
"I came because someone made it sound... Necessary."
Emmie's eyes sharpened. "Ah. I see."
"What? You know Freya?"
"No. But I know the type. Sells futures like jewelry. Makes danger look like a gift." She paused for a moment, "and let me guess - she appeared exactly when you had a small problem of your own."
Void swallowed. "She offered me a job to fuck with Zetatech. And I figured I might grab something extra to guard myself against being irrelevant."
"And you believed her."
"I believed the part where staying still meant losing."
Emmie studied her for a long moment.
"You're afraid," she said nonchalantly.
Void almost denied it. Almost.
Instead: "Yeah."
"That much I figured out the moment you stepped out of the airport," she said, pacing slowly around the kitchen. "The question is... Of what? You're not really known for giving a shit."
"Of waking up and being the slow, obsolete one. The one people remember instead of need."
Emmie nodded once. "So... You're just going to let someone put a bunch of wires in your head."
Void's mouth twitched. "When you say it like that, it sounds stupid."
"It is stupid," Emmie said. "But it's honest."
Silence again.
"Your fixer is the reason you're here," Emmie said. "But the two back home are the reason you're scared."
Void stood there struggling to find words as Emmie continued to dismantle her fucked up, selfish way of thinking piece by piece. "And Sandy," she added, "is the reason you pretend this is somehow just another Tuesday."
Void closed her eyes.
"Congratulations," Emmie said softly. "You are terrible at this in personal life just like you are professionally."
"At... What?" Void said, the riddle snapping her back out of it.
"Running away."
Void let out a shaky breath. "I don't want them to think I chose this over them."
"Oh, but you did," Emmie said. "But not because you don't love them. Because you don't know how to stop your little arms race."
From the other room, Sandy shouted, "EMMIE! YOU WANT TO SEE A GRENADE WITH TEETH?"
"No," she called back automatically.
She looked at Void again. "You're not here for chrome. You're here because someone convinced you fear was strategy and then lit the fuse."
Emmie straightened. "There's another thing."
Void looked at her, genuinely confused.
Emmie stared deep into her eyes. "You're not a real person. Something - or someone - had to die before we first met."
Void raised a finger to explain, but Emmie swiftly cut her off. "Do you think it's what she would've wanted you to do?"
She picked up her mug, before leaving the kitchen. "You should drop this job."
Void sat down on the floor with her back against the fridge, clenched her fists, then muttered, "Like fuck I will... You don't know rat's shit about us."
Void :: 05-Sep-2039 07:12:14
morning check-in from the city that wants me dead.
Keira :: 05-Sep-2039 07:12:47
Love that for you and hate that for me.
Amy :: 05-Sep-2039 07:13:06
Are you safe right now?
Void :: 05-Sep-2039 07:13:32
safe enough to drink bad coffee and think about you two.
Keira :: 05-Sep-2039 07:13:59
Wow. Luxury experience already.
Void :: 05-Sep-2039 07:14:21
sandy just gave me a tour of his murder museum.
Void :: 05-Sep-2039 07:14:32
moving to nc really worked out for that guy.
Keira :: 05-Sep-2039 07:14:47
Of course he did! Because nothing says "emotional support" like some looted iron.
Amy :: 05-Sep-2039 07:15:09
That sounds scary but I'm glad you're not alone
Void :: 05-Sep-2039 07:15:41
i keep wishing you were both here instead.
Keira :: 05-Sep-2039 07:16:02
Yeah well I'd be yelling at your ripper by now.
Amy :: 05-Sep-2039 07:16:21
Keira... Please don't start
Keira :: 05-Sep-2039 07:16:42
I started the moment she got that plane ticket.
Void :: 05-Sep-2039 07:17:18
i know you hate this and i'm sorry.
Keira :: 05-Sep-2039 07:17:45
Fucking right I do! I hate the part where you pretend this is casual.
Amy :: 05-Sep-2039 07:18:07
She's just scared and trying to look strong
Void :: 05-Sep-2039 07:18:39
i am scared, yeah. and i am still going to do it.
Keira :: 05-Sep-2039 07:19:05
Fantastic logic. Very on brand.
Amy :: 05-Sep-2039 07:19:22
You don't have to explain yourself to us, you know
Void :: 05-Sep-2039 07:19:51
i kind of do because i don't want you thinking i chose this over you.
Keira :: 05-Sep-2039 07:20:19
Too fucking late, honey. That thought already unpacked its bags.
Amy :: 05-Sep-2039 07:20:37
Keira, please... Void doesn't need this right now
Keira :: 05-Sep-2039 07:20:56
AND I NEED HER HERE NOT IN SOME BUMFUCK NOWHERE WITH GUNS-FOR-BRAINS AT EVERY CORNER.
Void :: 05-Sep-2039 07:21:24
see. this is why it's more practical to have you back there yelling at appliances instead of surgeons.
Keira :: 05-Sep-2039 07:21:48
What's the difference?
Keira :: 05-Sep-2039 07:22:13
You better get back in one piece or I'll kill myself just to find you in hell.
Keira :: 05-Sep-2039 07:22:45
And then slap your stupid fucking ass so hard the echo will be heard back on Earth.
Void :: 05-Sep-2039 07:23:29
see. that's why i invited you over to my place back then. you got fangs, sweetheart.
Amy :: 05-Sep-2039 07:23:47
I lit a candle for you. Guess the color?
Void :: 05-Sep-2039 07:24:21
green?
Amy :: 05-Sep-2039 07:24:30
Try again
Void :: 05-Sep-2039 07:24:38
uhh. violet?
Amy :: 05-Sep-2039 07:24:43
Got a winner! :3
Void :: 05-Sep-2039 07:24:50
oh cherry. you're always such a sweetheart. thanks girl.
Keira :: 05-Sep-2039 07:24:55
If this goes wrong I will nuke that fucking city.
Void :: 05-Sep-2039 07:25:11
remember to write "for that stupid bitch void" on the warhead.
Amy :: 05-Sep-2039 07:25:30
Don't talk like that please
Void :: 05-Sep-2039 07:25:58
i will be fine. i am too stubborn to die properly.
Keira :: 05-Sep-2039 07:26:21
I hate that you might actually be right.
Amy :: 05-Sep-2039 07:26:39
We'll be here when you wake up no matter what
Void :: 05-Sep-2039 07:27:08
that's the part i'm holding onto.
Keira :: 05-Sep-2039 07:27:31
Call me the second you can move your fingers.
Void :: 05-Sep-2039 07:27:59
yes mom.
Keira :: 05-Sep-2039 07:28:18
Say that again and I will drive to that city. Over the sea.
Amy :: 05-Sep-2039 07:28:36
Please don't start a road trip apocalypse
Void :: 05-Sep-2039 07:29:04
sandy's waving his shotgun at me. guess that means "time to go."
Amy :: 05-Sep-2039 07:29:46
Take care Void, and remember to be careful
Void :: 05-Sep-2039 07:30:12
the time for recklessness will come when i get my new toy installed.
Keira :: 05-Sep-2039 07:30:35
Figures... I love you, dumbass. Talk soon.
Void :: 05-Sep-2039 07:31:02
love you both. and i'm bringing myself back in one piece.
Void :: 05-Sep-2039 07:31:09
promise.
The ride to Little Europe passed without ceremony - no music, no banter, just the roar of Sandy's car threading through streets that looked like your usual amphetamine junkie: half-awake and half-feral, while Void watched reflections slide over the windshield and tried not to imagine wires where her thoughts were supposed to be, and Sandy kept both hands on the wheel like the road itself might try something funny if he loosened his grip. The silence between them was an unspoken mutual agreement not to poke the bruise before it had to be cut open.
The ripperdoc's place squatted between a shuttered laundromat and a noodle stand, its sign flickering between "CLINIC" and something resembling a danger sign.
Sandy pulled up, killed the engine, and sat there for a second too long before turning to her. "Well," he said, forcing a grin that didn't quite land, "this is the part where I pretend I don't give a shit."
Void snorted softly and reached for the door. "You make it sound like a hobby."
He shook his head and pointed a finger at her like he was trying to staple the moment in place. "You walk in, you let him play electrician with your skull, and you come back out still knowing how to insult my driving, yeah?"
"Orrr... Your family grows by two," she said, earning herself a genuine laugh.
Sandy leaned back in his seat. "Good luck, my friend," he added, more serious now, eyes fixed on her like he was memorizing the outline of her. "Just don't let him install anything that makes you nicer."
She paused with the door half open. "Like fuck I would."
Sandy waved her off with a flick of his hand. "I need to take care of something while you're in there," he said casually, already reaching for the window controls. Void didn't question it, just nodded once and stepped out into the street.
The clinic door swallowed her whole as Sandy pulled the car forward and out of sight, leaving the street to pretend it had never witnessed anything important.
Inside, the clinic felt less like a place of healing and more like a confession booth built out of spare parts.
The door hissed shut behind Void, sealing her into air that reeked of antiseptic, molten plastic, and something faintly metallic that reminded her of her own electronics workshop.
The lights were dim and uneven, strips of flickering white bolted to the ceiling like afterthoughts, casting long shadows over walls composed of cracked tiles, patched with insulation foam in some places. Shelves sagged under the weight of cyberware in various stages of dignity, polished optics beside rust-spotted limb frames, jars of neural filaments floating in cloudy fluid.
"Huh, great. Pickled thoughts," Void thought, as she carefully inspected one of the glass containers. Then, she turned her eyes to the center of the room.
A reclining surgery chair dominated the area, its vinyl split and stitched back together in three different colors, cables coiled around its base like roots of a venerable tree - except that was the only part the two had in common. Biomonitors hummed quietly, scrolling erratic data without a patient to read anything from, and a tray of surgical tools sat nearby, arranged with the careful precision of someone who respected blades more than people.
Void drifted past a corkboard pinned with handwritten warnings, anatomical sketches, and a faded photo of what might have been the ripperdoc in a cleaner life, then stopped near a counter cluttered with medinjectors, datachips, and a half-empty cup of a fluid that had once been hot coffee. The whole place radiated a particular kind of competence and chaos, the type that didn't bother with comfort because survival was already a luxury.
She walked over to the other side of a room to look at a set of cybernetic arms hanging from a rack.
"Good day! This must be miss Void, if I'm not mistaken," an unknown voice startled her.
"Fuck!" Void yelled, as she turned towards the source of the sound, knocking one of the implants off the hook.
The man who'd spoken did not belong to the room.
Havelock Reyes stood near the back wall beside a stainless worktable, hands folded neatly behind his back as if he were waiting to be announced at a gala instead of in a chop-shop clinic. His suit was tailored within an inch of its life, dark fabric pressed sharp enough to cut, cuffs immaculate despite the grime that ruled everything else in the building. Not a speck of oil touched him, not a wrinkle dared. He looked like he'd stepped out of a corporate portrait and gotten lost on the way to a shareholders' meeting.
A perfectly groomed moustache curved above his lip, waxed into elegant points that suggested patience and discipline. His hair was silvered at the temples, combed back with deliberate care. Over his eyes sat telescopic glasses, thin metal frames with layered lenses that shifted and clicked softly as they refocused, tiny servos buzzing like insects. Each blink brought a subtle mechanical adjustment, as though his gaze was assembling her piece by piece.
He politely inclined his head to her.
"Do forgive the surprise," he said, voice smooth and measured, carrying a faint accent Void couldn't quite place. "You were studying my inventory with such sincerity I did not wish to interrupt."
Reyes glanced down at the implant that clattered on the floor, then back to her, and sighed with quiet disappointment, like someone watching a wine glass fall in slow motion.
"Ah. The forearms," he said, stepping forward and kneeling with surprising grace to retrieve it. He inspected the limb briefly, rotating it in his hands, then rehung it exactly as it had been, aligning it with the others until the rack looked symmetrical again. "Please do not touch without asking. They are rather temperamental without tweaks."
He straightened and adjusted one cufflink.
Up close, Void could see the contrast even harder. His skin was clean, unscarred. No visible combat chrome. No obvious street augmentations beyond the glasses. A man who trusted tools more than implants, and discipline more than intimidation.
"You are punctual," he continued, offering her a small smile. "An excellent sign. Most patients arrive either late or bleeding."
"Miss Void," he said, tasting the name like it mattered, "I am Havelock Reyes. I will be your medical technician or, as the streets tend to say, 'ripperdoc' today."
His eyes lingered on her posture, her stance, the way she kept her weight balanced like she was already mapping exits.
"You have the walk of someone who expects betrayal," he observed mildly. "That is good. It means you will listen when I tell you not to move."
He gestured towards the chair in the center of the room, the stitched-together throne of wires and restraints.
"Shall we proceed with the initial medical interview," he asked, "or would you prefer to continue browsing my collection like a woman trying to choose jewelry?"
Void needed a second to realign reality.
She stared at him, then at the walls. At the jars. At the chair. Then back at him again, like her brain was running a checksum and not liking the result.
"You err... Sure you're my ripper?"
Reyes raised an eyebrow.
"Because you look like you belong in a boardroom," she went on, gesturing vaguely around them, "and this place looks like it belongs in a murder trial."
A corner of his mouth twitched, not quite a smile.
"An understandable concern," he said, folding his hands behind his back again. "I assure you, I am tragically real."
Void exhaled and rubbed the back of her neck.
"You just... Don't fit."
For a moment, he did not answer. The telescopic lenses clicked softly as he studied her, then the room, then the surgery chair like it was an old acquaintance he did not fully trust.
"No," he agreed. "I do not."
He moved to the counter and set one gloved hand upon it, careful not to touch the clutter directly.
"I was not always... Independent," he said. "Once, I was a senior medical technician under Arasaka."
Void's eyes sharpened.
"Mmm-hm."
"I specialized in neural interface calibration," he continued steadily. "Corporate-grade firmware integration. Military contracts. Black-box systems that required both discretion and a refusal to ask philosophical questions."
He paused.
"Unfortunately, I asked one."
Void tilted her head. "And?"
"And a prototype I was assigned to maintain has caused... Undesirable side effects in a test subject," he said. "Memory collapse. Personality drift and hallucinations."
"So you pulled the plug?"
"I filed a report," he corrected. "Which is worse."
His jaw tightened slightly beneath the moustache.
"My superiors declared the subject unstable, buried the data, and reassigned blame," he said. "My access was revoked, credentials nullified. A rather creative smear campaign followed."
Void crossed her arms. "Let me guess... Malpractice, substance abuse, mental disorders..."
"With forged therapy logs," he added. "A delightful touch."
Silence sat between them, thick with old anger.
"So you got dumped."
"Without severance," he said. "Without license. Without friends who would admit to knowing me."
He gestured around the room.
"I spent a year repairing vending machines and installing faulty implants in alleyways fully aware the people who received them would not survive a month without rejection," he went on. "I had to sleep in a storage unit. A rather uncomfortable downgrade from my former accommodation."
Void snorted before she could stop herself.
"That sounds... Poetic for a fall from grace."
"Misery often is," he replied. "Eventually, I saved enough to purchase equipment that corporations deemed obsolete but I knew was… honest."
He tapped one of the biomons.
"This machine does not lie to me," he said. "It merely lacks manners."
Void glanced around again, slower this time.
"So this dump is a statement."
"My clinic is freedom," he said. "No oversight, without investors. No executives deciding which side effects are 'acceptable losses.'"
She eyed the surgery chair.
"Still looks like it could eat me."
"Skill matters more than polish," he replied calmly. "My patients leave with their minds intact and their futures functional."
Then, more quietly:
"Those who prefer mood lighting and liability waivers may visit corporate clinics."
Void studied him, searching for cracks, or mania. For cultist enthusiasm. For something. Anything.
Instead, she found only tired professionalism.
"You really think you can pull this off in here."
"I have already done so twelve times," he said. "You will be thirteenth."
Beat.
"How lucky."
His moustache twitched again.
"You are nervous," he observed.
"No shit."
"Good," he said. "Nervous patients are likely aware of the risks. Overconfidence results in unwanted fatalities."
"Miss Void," he gestured once more to the chair. "Shall we begin?"
Void eased herself into the chair as the vinyl creaked under her weight, cables whispering as they shifted. She rested her hands on the armrests and glanced up at Reyes through the web of hanging lights and lenses.
"Out of curiosity," she said, "how much did they pay you to carve me open?"
Reyes paused mid-adjustment. One of the telescopic lenses slid forward with a soft click as he looked at her properly.
"They did not," he replied.
Void blinked. "That wasn't the answer I was expecting."
"It was the correct one," he said, retrieving a tray of sterile connectors. "I am doing this without fee."
Her brows knitted. "You're running a clinic, not a charity."
"True," he said. "But I am also a human capable of holding a grudge."
He adjusted one of the overhead lamps, bathing her in pale light, then folded his hands briefly as if humoring a lecture he'd already rehearsed.
"Our mutual acquaintance explained your situation," he continued. "Why you seek this implant and what you intend to do with it. And how... Capable you already are without it."
Void's jaw tightened. "She's got a big fucking mouth for sure."
"Madam Freya," he corrected mildly, "has a persuasive one."
The name sat strangely between them.
"She spoke of your work," he went on, "your talent for navigating hostile systems without becoming part of them. She also spoke of corporations who would very much prefer you either 'employed' or erased."
Void looked away. "Sounds like her."
"It sounded," he said, "like an opportunity."
She glanced back up at him. "Opportunity for what?"
His mouth curved into an expression that was not quite a smile.
"To offend the correct people," he said.
He checked the alignment of the chair, then met her eyes through the layered glass.
"Arasaka ruined my name," he said calmly. "Zetatech would happily ruin yours if you become inconvenient. Installing this implant gives you leverage against them both."
Void snorted weakly. "So I'm a middle finger with a pulse. Great."
"In essence," he agreed. "Yes."
She let her head rest back against the chair.
"You're really doing this just to spite them."
"Spite," Reyes said, selecting a tool, "is an undervalued motivator."
A beat.
"Also," he added, "you are skilled. You are informed. And you are not naive about the risk."
He adjusted a sensor near her temple, careful, precise.
"I would rather my craft empower someone who understands what they are becoming," he said, "than decorate another corporate soldier who believes chrome is destiny."
Void swallowed.
"So this is personal for you."
"Entirely," he replied.
The machine beside her hummed to life, lights shifting from amber to sterile blue.
"Madam Freya believes you will make excellent use of what I give you," he said. "I believe you will become quite a nuisance to the right enemies."
He leaned closer, smirking in satisfaction as his voice dropped.
"That is payment enough."