“Wake up, Rain,” Illume whispers, like velvet over a razor blade. “It’s time to look at your new home.”
I jolt awake.
Darkness. A sterile chill clings to the air, and beneath me—a mattress, thin, every shift sending out a low creak. I lift my arm—a sharp tug halts me.
Chains.
I pull. The resistance is absolute.
What the hell?
My fingers run over my skin—no searing pain, no broken bones. But my ribs twinge when I twist, and the ghost of a headache pulses behind my eyes.
That night flashes—me, smashed into concrete. Either I wasn’t as badly injured as I thought, or someone took the time to patch me up. My hand moves instinctively to my ear.
My View is gone.
Damn it. Without it, I’m blind in a city that eats the unprepared.
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“Took you long enough.”
A voice drifts from the shadows. Smooth, unhurried.
A flicker of flame. For a second, her face sharpens against the dark, showing her high cheekbones, a slash of dark lipstick, eyes like polished obsidian. She lights a cigar, taking a slow drag before exhaling, the smoke curling like lazy ghosts. The glow catches on a silver ring, coiled like a serpent around her finger.
She steps forward. Heels click against the floor.
I shift back, body tensing.
She drops onto the bed beside me. The mattress dips, her weight pressing close. Tobacco and something faintly floral linger between us.
She’s unarmed. Relaxed.
Easy to lunge, grab her throat, snap her neck if I have to—
“Do it,” Illume purrs, his voice a blade between my ribs. Phantom fingers trail up my throat, cold as dead steel. "She’s waiting for you to try. Isn’t that fun?"
I don’t move.
She knows. She’s waiting.
“If,” she exhales, sending a perfect smoke ring into the air, “you were listening to that voice in your head—” she tilts her cigar, amber glow catching her smirk, “I’d have put this out in your eye.”
The words cut through my hesitation. I swallow hard.
“What do you want from me?”
She chuckles, flicking ash onto the floor.
“I assume you were unaware of the bounty on your head?”
“Fifty thousand Meccets.” Enough to buy a back-alley gene mod or a new identity in three systems.
She nods, unimpressed. “That’s right. But it’s not the number that interests me. It’s the name behind it.”
A slow drag. A moment of silence.
Then she snuffs the cigar out with a deliberate twist of her heel.
“Garnot Impulse. A man whose wealth stretches further than most planets. What, pray tell, does he want with you?”
So my hunch was right.
She rises, turning for the door, but pauses at the threshold.
“Oh,” she muses, glancing back. “And my name is Genevieve Eloise. Be a good boy, and I might consider returning your View.”
The door inches shut.
“Wait,” I call.
The gap lingers.
“Are you just going to hand me over to him?”
Silence…
Then a quiet hum of amusement.
“Yes.”
The door clicks shut. Her voice floats through from the other side, playful.
“Unless you prove more valuable than your bounty.” A pause. The door cracks open again, just enough to show her smirk. "Try not to disappoint."
First impressions? Cigars, silver rings, and slow threats.
one.
Which illegal upgrade tempts you most?
