Ethan slammed his training spear against the holographic dummy, the impact rattling the basement's exposed concrete walls. KOVAC, their sentient home AI, projected damage readouts: Phantom Thrust Velocity: 82.4 mph.
Mia descended the spiral staircase holding two protein shakes, her neon-green gaming headset dangling around her neck. "Breakdown mode activated?"
"TigerShark froze my sponsorship deals." Ethan's spear whistled through air, denting a steel plate marked Mountain Breaker - 1,258 lbs impact. "Lucas Cheng's drones blocked every gym contract."
Mia tossed him a shake. "StreamVerse offered me triple subscribers if I trash-talk you on tonight's CyberBrawl stream."
Ethan caught the bottle mid-air. "You didn't–"
"Deleted their email." Mia's nose scrunched in that way Ethan had sketched a hundred times. "We're doing the midnight raid on Dragon's Canyon, remember? No corporate trolls messing with our guild."
Later - Neon-Splashed Loft
Holographic maple leaves drifted across their augmented reality terrace. Mia's fingers danced over her wrist console, canceling leases and forwarding mail. Ethan watched her avatar battle through three screens simultaneously – lethal in-game assassin, smooth jazz vocalist on StreamVerse, and now...
This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.
"Since when do you code?" Ethan squinted at her hacked-together program.
"Since TigerShark tried silencing us." Mia spun her chair, revealing lines of glowing malware. "Meet KarmaBot 2.0 – it'll flood Cheng's drone servers with cat videos during tomorrow's product launch."
Ethan's laughter shook the bulletproof windows. This reckless brilliance was why he'd fallen for her during that chaotic CyberBrawl tournament, when her digital ninja had saved his glitching avatar from corporate hit-squad NPCs.
Dawn - Encrypted Call
Mia's father materialized as a pixelated hologram, chemotherapy ports visible beneath his faded NYU hoodie. "Your mother finally blocked Uncle Jeff's number."
"About time!" Mia tossed VR grenades at a horde of zombie bots. "Tell Mom I'm bringing home a–"
"Terminal diagnosis," her father blurted. The gaming headset slipped from Mia's fingers.
Ethan caught it before impact, his combat reflexes overriding shock. The loft's ambient music switched to Mia's platinum single Fractured Light – their private safeword tune.
"Palliative care," her father continued quietly. "Six good months left. Wanted you settled first."
Mia's avatar froze mid-battle as real-world tears blurred the screens. Ethan's arms encircled her shaking frame, his calloused fingers navigating her console to activate Operation Sundown – their contingency plan for escaping corporate skylines.
"Springvale leaves in twenty," he murmured into her hair. "I'll pack the spears."