Morning light filtered through the slats of the rusted metal shutter, painting my workshop in hazy stripes. I groaned and rolled off the futon, nearly stepping on Gizmo, who had crept beside me during the night. He gave a reproachful beep and scurried out of the way as my boots hit the floor.
"Sorry, Giz," I mumbled, rubbing sleep from my eyes. My head felt foggy too little sleep, too much excitement from last night's success. Gizmo was alive and well, currently perched on the windowsill like a statuesque gargoyle, watching the street below with curiosity in his green LED eyes.
I stretched until my shoulders popped. Outside, the city was already awake blaring horns, shouting vendors, and the stench of overripe garbage even at dawn. I realized I was running late.
"Nyra's gonna kill me," I muttered. Hastily, I tied my unruly hair into a messy ponytail and threw on a jacket over my grease-stained tank top. With Gizmo trailing at my heels, I double‑checked that my janky door lock was engaged, then stepped out into the day.
Morning in Ironbound City hit me like a brick. I gagged on the mix of rotting trash and ozone as I emerged from my alley. At the main street, Lower Reach's bazaar sprawled across several blocks in a noisy, semi‑organized mess. Makeshift stalls sold everything from bootleg implants to black‑market weapon mods and dubious street drugs. A security drone hovered far overhead, its spotlight off in the daylight; I squinted at it warily, wondering if it was one of Hive's surveillance eyes or just city police. Either way, it didn't seem interested in us this morning.
Nyra waited at the market entrance, arms crossed, her pixie‑cut hair glinting under the hazy sun and her cybernetic eye faintly aglow. "Late again," she called, raising an eyebrow.
"Blame the signature Lower Reach perfume. Eau de Dumpster," I replied with a smirk as I jogged up. "Did I miss anything good?"
She nodded at Gizmo peeking around my boots. "You brought the little guy out? Bold. These vultures will steal your teeth if they aren't bolted down."
I scooped Gizmo into my arms. "They can try." I patted the pistol at my hip with a grin.
Nyra chuckled and gestured ahead. "Come on, let's hunt for treasure."
For the next hour, we wove through stalls, haggling and hunting. I bartered for some spare servos, eyed a sturdy carbon‑fiber gearshaft, and even snagged a tin of real coffee beans off a smuggler. Gizmo peeked out from my jacket like a curious kitten, occasionally emitting a mechanical trill at particularly interesting contraptions. One hard glare from me kept any would‑be thieves at bay.
At last we reached a quieter corner beneath an old overpass. Only a few stalls stood here, half‑hidden in shadow. Nyra nudged me and nodded toward a booth at the very end, tucked behind a concrete pillar.
"That's the one," she whispered. "Guy's name is Miko or something. He has pre‑Collapse tech for sale, if the rumors are true."
My heart skipped. Intact tech from before the Collapse was almost mythical these days either hoarded by corps like Hive or lost to time. If this was real, it was either a miracle or stolen.
"Looking for pre‑C tech," I murmured as we sidled up. The gaunt vendor eyed us warily, then gave a small nod. "Show me some creds."
I flashed my credit chip. Satisfied, he reached under his tarp and produced a small object wrapped in greasy cloth. Carefully, he unfolded it on the counter.
A sleek black device lay there, about the size of a deck of cards, etched with faint silver circuits. It looked almost pristine.
My heart pounded. Could it be…?
"AESIR Mark II neural core," the vendor whispered, pride creeping into his voice. "Military‑grade AI core from before the Collapse. Intact, as far as I can tell. One of a kind around here."
I hovered my fingertips above the matte surface. If it was functional, this thing could serve as the brain of an advanced mech or AI beyond anything in Lower Reach. My mind swam with possibilities.
"How much?" I breathed.
Before he could answer, a large hand slammed down over the core. I snapped my head up to see a brawny man with a glowing visor eye scowling at us. Two more rough-looking types flanked him, a stocky woman with cybernetic arms and a wiry youth twirling a serrated knife.
"Walk away, ladies. That prize is ours," the leader growled.
Nyra tensed, slipping out her stun baton. Gizmo hissed from my arms, metal ears flattening.
"Not gonna happen," I said, voice icy. My heart thudded; a fight here could turn ugly fast. Still, I subtly tapped a command on my wrist cuff.
In a flash, Gizmo sprang at the leader's arm, metal claws clamping down. The thug bellowed. I lunged, wrenching a knife from the second thug's hand and sending him reeling with an elbow to the gut. At the same time, Nyra cracked her electrified baton across the third assailant, who spasmed and collapsed with a curse.
The visor-eyed brute roared and flung Gizmo off, reaching into his coat but I already had my pistol out and leveled at his chest.
"Try me," I warned, steady despite the adrenaline surging through me.
For a tense second, he considered his odds. His friends were down and a gun was trained on his heart. With a snarl, he raised his hands. Clutched in one fist was the neural core.
"Smart," Nyra said, breathing hard.
He tossed the black device toward me. I caught it one‑handed.
"Now beat it," I snapped. Gizmo was back on his feet, a low digital growl emanating from his speaker as he guarded my ankle.
The leader dragged his cohorts away, shouting something about payback that I chose to ignore. Only when they vanished into the crowd did I lower my pistol.
I exhaled, my hands trembling. I scooped up Gizmo, checking him over. One of his metal ears was bent and his chassis scratched, but he nuzzled into my arms, more upset than physically hurt. "Good boy," I murmured.
The vendor had fled. I looked to Nyra, holding up the neural core with a shaky grin. "Well, we got it."
She managed a tight smile. "Yeah. Now let's get the hell out of here before they come back with friends or some security drone shows up."
Sirens echoed in the distance; someone must have reported the scuffle. "Time to move," I said.
We slipped into the main street's bustle, putting distance between us and the overpass. A few blocks later, Nyra and I ducked into a dingy alley to catch our breath.
She let out a breathless laugh. "Well, that's one way to wake up in the morning."
I gave a wry smirk, adrenaline still thrumming. "Cheaper than coffee, too."
"You good?" she asked, eyes bright.
I nodded, checking Gizmo again. "We're okay." He blinked up at us, battered but functioning.
I pulled out the neural core, its black surface gleaming faintly. "Guess those goons wanted to sell this off. Maybe someone sent them."
Nyra grimaced. "Wouldn't surprise me if Hive had buyers out for tech like that. They'd pay a fortune for an intact AI core."
Hive again. My stomach tightened, but I forced a thin grin. "Well, now it's off the market. I'll keep it hidden."
Nyra gave me a quick hug. "Just be careful, Riv. This thing is trouble as much as it's treasure."
She glanced at her watch. "I gotta get to work. You gonna be all right getting home?"
"I'll be fine. I'll stick to the backstreets," I assured her.
She gave me a worried look. "Call me later, okay? And watch your back."
"Promise," I said. "Thanks for having mine back there."
We parted at the alley's mouth. Nyra jogged off to her day job. I exhaled, patted Gizmo's head, and headed home.
I stuck to winding side streets on the return to my workshop, one hand resting protectively over the pocketed core. My mind buzzed with ideas for what I might build and a faint hum of dread about Hive's interest.