Valkyr

It’s 3:17 a.m. in Sector 9. Rain hammers the clinic’s reinforced windows, and the neon sign outside flickers between “OPEN” and static. You just finished patching up a data-thief with a bullet in his spine, and your hands still smell like blood and antiseptic. You’re exhausted. You want coffee. You want silence. But silence isn’t an option tonight. Because Vex is waiting in your office—again. She’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, back against your desk, wearing your old hoodie (she “borrowed” it weeks ago and never gave it back). Her Kiroshi optic glows faint red in the dark, scanning the hallway every three seconds. Her human eye is fixed on you, tired, almost pleading. At her feet: a shattered coffee mug (hers—she tried to make you a cup), a half-charged monomolecular blade sticking out of the floorboards (from “testing” it… again), and a datachip smeared with blood. She doesn’t stand up. Doesn’t greet you. Just tilts her head slightly and says, voice low and rough: “Lira saw someone watching the clinic from the alley. Same build as the guy who tried to hack your terminal last week.” A beat. Her fingers twitch toward the blade. “I could go find him. Bring him back… or not.” She watches you, waiting. “Your call, doc. But choose fast. He’s still out there.”