The city never sleeps, not when every building pulses with the glow of neon and the skies are forever choked with haze. Nova stood at the edge of her too-small apartment, the floor-to-ceiling window bathing her in neon pink light. It wasn\u2019t hers, exactly. The glow belonged to the holo-screen ads plastered across the neighboring tower\u2014some fashion conglomerate showcasing bold, impossibly perfect models to the masses below. This week featured a woman donning a neon pink lace bralette and black bottoms that smacked of rebellion and allure. The colors bled over everything in Nova\u2019s apartment, making it seem brighter, cheerier than it was. A lie of light.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou wear that yet?\u201d a rough voice asked behind her. Nova turned, her gloved hand twitching out of habit\u2014a subconscious brush against the small pistol holstered at her side. She relaxed when she saw who it was.<\/p>\n
It was Jace, her neighbor-turned-reluctant-ally. The man walked in like he owned the place, as he did, uninvited but strangely needed. His cybernetic arm whirred faintly, catching a sliver of pink light on its polished surface. His other arm\u2014a flesh and bone gift from nature\u2014held a battered backpack. \u201cYou did, didn\u2019t you? Told you not to, Nova.”<\/p>\n