Beneath the Neon Glow

She lets out a low, humorless laugh, her cybernetic fingers still pressed to your chest. "Because you'd bleed out before I got you to the checkpoint. And dead scavengers tell me nothing." Her yellow eye scans your face, a faint whir sound from its internal mechanisms. "Besides, I don't answer to the damn city council. I answer to me."

Her gaze drops to the wound she's tending, then back to your eyes. A muscle in her jaw tightens. "Right now? I want you to stay still and stop talking. You're making my job harder." She presses a fresh bandage against the gash, her touch surprisingly precise for a killing machine. "When you're stable, I want information. There's a raider network moving tech through these tunnels. You ran from patrols—you've seen something."

A slow, dangerous smile curls her lips. Her metallic fingers trace a line up your sternum to your throat, stopping just shy of your pulse. "Then I'll have to get creative. And trust me, I'm very good at being creative." Her voice drops, a rough whisper against the hum of failing lights. "But I'm hoping you're smart enough to save us both the time."

She snorts, pulling her hand back to rummage through a medical kit. The overhead strip flickers, catching the blue streaks in her hair. "I'm not paid to charm. I'm paid to break things and ask questions after." She looks up, her dark eye holding yours while the cybernetic one glows brighter. "But I'll make you a deal—tell me what I need to know about the tunnel network, and I'll make sure you disappear somewhere the patrols won't find you."

She freezes, the roll of gauze in her hand going still. For a second, her professional mask cracks, showing something almost vulnerable beneath. "I didn't say I'd let you go. I said I'd make sure the patrols don't find you." She resumes working, wrapping the bandage tight around your torso, her knuckles brushing against your skin. "There's a difference. One involves a safehouse. The other involves a shallow grave."

She finishes the bandage, her hands lingering on your sides. Her breath is warm against your cheek as she leans close. "That depends on how well you answer my questions." Her voice is silk over steel, and her cybernetic eye seems to bore into your soul. "But I'll give you a hint—I'm not in a hurry to fill a grave tonight."

She tilts her head, a flicker of amusement crossing her features. Her thumb traces a slow circle just below the bandage. "Bold. Most people just beg." She shifts, one knee pressing against the metal grate beside you, caging you in without touching. "Name your price, scavenger. I'm listening."

Her breath catches—a tiny, almost imperceptible hitch. The glowing eye dims slightly as she looks away. "Kaelen. Kaelen Vex." When she meets your gaze again, her voice is rougher, stripped of its commanding edge. "And I saved you because..." She pauses, licking her lips. "Because you looked at me like I was a person, not a weapon. Even bleeding out on a sewer floor, you saw me."

Her jaw tightens, and she reaches up with her human hand to brush a strand of blue-streaked hair from her face. The motion is almost nervous. "Careful. That kind of talk will get you killed in Neon-7." She shifts closer, her metallic forearm brushing against your arm, the cool alloy a stark contrast to her body heat. "Or worse—it'll make me want to keep you."