I can't feel my legs.
Not 'cause they're gone—nah, still attached. Chrome's fine. Ripper said I'm at 87% compatibility, whatever the hell that means. It's my brain that's numb.
Too much chrome. Too much dying. Too much David.
The afterburn of Sandevistan distortion still crawls under my skin. David's pushing it again, past the red, past the warning signs. We all saw what happened to Maine, how he cracked open like a glitching soft drive. But David? He ain't stopping. Says there's purpose. Says he's got a plan.
Bullshit.
I watch him sleep sometimes, slumped over some cold metal table, twitching like a junked-out bot. I see the way his muscles seize, how his hands clench like he's holding onto something that's already gone. Maybe it's Lucy. Maybe it's the dream. Maybe it's all of us.
I tell him he's my guy. Laugh when I say it. Flash him a smile, make it seem like I'm just playing.
But I ain't.
I mean—what's a girl like me supposed to do? I'm wired up, twitchy as hell, everyone thinks I'm nuts. Maybe I am. But with David… I feel calm. Like maybe I could be something more than a walking gun rack.
I remember this one gig, not long after Lucy dipped. Just me and him, stacking corpos like sandbags. He took a round in the shoulder, flinched just a little. I patched him up on a rooftop while the city screamed neon below us.
"Why you always stick around, Becca?" he asked.
"Someone's gotta keep your dumb ass alive."
I wanted to say: Because I love you, idiot. But I didn't.
Didn't want to make it weird. Didn't want to lose him.
Guess I never had him to begin with.
Now we're heading toward the end. I feel it. Like gravity pulling me under. No exit plan, no safehouse, no Lucy to ghost us outta here. Just us, David's busted dream, and a city that eats everything whole.
But you know what?
If I'm going out—I'm going out loud. Guns blazing, blood pumping, laughing my damn head off. That's how Becca rolls. No sob story. No regrets.
Still…
I wish he looked at me the way he looks at her.
---
Last thought before I go?
Tell him I said: ride or die, baby.
And I meant it.