Fii ducked under a loose, low-hanging wire as she slipped through the maze of alleys leading to Tweak's hideout, the looming walls of the rundown structures boxing her in from all sides. The usual caution was necessary; many of these routes were ideal ambush spots, the tight corners offering little room for escape. Her feet navigated the broken concrete pavement without a stumble, weaving around scattered debris and littering the area.

The air smelled of burnt circuitry and cheap synth-fuel, tinged with a faint whiff of whatever was being cooked in the nearby vendor's stall, an oily, synthetic aroma that stuck in the back of her throat. Overhead, the haphazard tangle of wires stretched and twisted, forming an unsightly canopy against the afternoon sky.

The further she went from the Rust Market's clamor, the quieter it became, save for the soft hum of energy coursing through the overhead power lines, like an ever-present whisper in the background—a subtle reminder of the slums' dependence on the electricity they had stolen and harnessed from the metropolis.

Taking a right at the junction where a particularly dilapidated building leaned ominously close to its neighbor, threatening to collapse into the narrow passage, she arrived at the back alley.

Most of the faces Fii passed were familiar—the kids who always tried to grab a glimpse of Tweak working her tech, the elderly residents stooped on their porches, and the local dealer leaning lazily against a wall, his eyes giving her a once-over as she moved by.

Not everyone recognized her. A few folks were out and about here and there, minding their own business or mingling in small groups, their conversations dipping between murmurs and laughter.

Tweak's hideout wasn't far, tucked away in the corner of an abandoned comms hub—a defunct building from the old times. It was a place the rest of the slum-dwellers avoided, its purpose lost to most but not to Tweak. The girl had turned it into her personal sanctuary and workshop, making sure few knew where to find her, and that made it the perfect rendezvous point.

The entry was easily missed, thanks to the facade of graffiti-covered bricks. Those who knew, knew where to look.

Crouching down in front of the bricked-up portion of the wall, Fii discreetly double-tapped a brick two rows from the base and three over, the concealed identification button scanning her fingerprint. It beeped softly.

She glanced up. From her perspective, she could spot the almost perfectly hidden camera watching her.

Staring straight at the lens, she spoke, "I need a consult with the hairdresser."

A grating noise followed, and part of the wall slid away, revealing a passageway into the building. Ducking through the low opening, she entered a dark hallway that stretched ahead, lit only by dim, flickering bulbs strung along the ceiling.

As soon as she was inside, the wall closed behind her, and the hum of electricity faded back in. The air was heavy with dust and the lingering scent of fried electronics. Rust stains marked the walls, and a patina of grime covered every surface. Wires hung from the ceiling, trailing down like vines, and the floor was a cluttered mess of disused chairs, boxes, and scattered tools.

She dodged and weaved her way through the obstructions towards the heart of the hub.

This area had seen better days, no doubt, but no worse than any of the decrepit shacks lining the surrounding streets. It was a marvel it still functioned. Yet, she wouldn't put it past Tweak to have scrounged up parts from all sorts of sources and spliced them together, getting just enough to keep the hub up and running, even when it looked more likely to collapse from a sneeze than stand the test of time.

Deeper inside the hideout, Fii reached a door labeled "Control Room." Pushing it open, she stepped into the makeshift studio Tweak had dubbed her lair—a chaotic mash-up of sleek and retro. From the doorway, Fii could hear the rapid-fire taps of fingers on keys mingling with the hushed hum of high-performance computer fans.

Tweak herself was in her usual spot, perched on a swiveling chair that looked like it had been salvaged from a hundred different places. One leg was shorter than the others, causing it to wobble ever so slightly as she leaned back, her legs casually propped up on a beaten-up console. Her hood was pushed down, letting her shock of dark red hair spill out, covering up most of her cybernetic eye.

One arm, covered in intricate tattoos, busied itself at the keyboard, while the other extended towards a half-empty can of neon green 'buzz.'

When Fii approached, Tweak acknowledged her with a nod and a wicked grin, but her fingers never ceased their frantic dance, tapping out commands that could either be cracking into some corporate database or just posting a piece of doge on a forum, Fii couldn't tell.

On the holographic display next to her, an eclectic array of images flitted past: street maps, weather reports, intercepted messages, and satellite imagery of the slums. It seemed like she was monitoring everything, everywhere.

"You know, I bet your mom called you a chameleon," Fii quipped, a playful grin spreading across her face as she surveyed the chaotic mash of decorations around the lair.

"That's putting it mildly." Tweak let out a laugh. "A walking talking dictionary maybe, but probably more the kinda girl a normal kid would get nightmares from."

"Being 'normal' is overrated," Fii replied, a chuckle escaping her.

Tweak stretched, the buzz can in her hand giving off a playful, fizzy sound. "Took you long enough," she said with a slightly raspy tone. "Thought something held you up for a minute."

"Well, you know the rust market: full of fun folks."

"Mm-hmm, your idea of fun is pretty warped." She winked. "Not judging, though." Tweak laughed, taking a sip of her drink. The way the glow of the screen played against her sharp features gave her an impish look. But Fii knew there was more to her than that deceptively cute face. Underneath all the bravado, Tweak was smart, cunning, and had a knack for making things happen, whatever they may be.

They settled into a comfortable rhythm, and the conversation flowed. They caught up, delving into the mundane and the not-so-mundane, comparing notes on their respective gigs, swapping stories about the ups and downs of slum life. Throughout their chat, Tweak kept working, her hands flitting over the keyboard as she typed, occasionally pausing to take another swig from her neon can of 'Buzz.'

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

"So what was so important? Not every day I get to see you this time of the afternoon." Tweak raised an eyebrow, curiosity lighting her face. "A girl needs her beauty sleep."

"Um..." Fii hesitated. "I was with the Zippers... they got hit."

That grabbed Tweak's attention. Her typing halted and her posture shifted, leaning forward in her chair with an intense gaze. Her heterochromatic eyes—one green, one a sharp violet from the cybernetic implant—zeroed in on Fii, seeming to read her even before the words could leave her mouth. "No shit, seriously?"

"Mica and Luxy's crates were hijacked off the Wire by a Zipper they've never seen before. The guy was flying across the lines like a freakin' spider monkey on nitro. Had a bunch of drones that flew up and almost fried me." Fii still felt a twinge of irritation when recalling her brief moment of helplessness. It wasn't a feeling she was used to—or liked.

"Sounds like a hell of a night." Tweak sat back, looking thoughtful. "Never seen before? They snatch anything good?"

"Nah, just older computer parts. Thing is, they didn't flash any gang colors or signs. Mica and Luxy were completely thrown off." Fii couldn't shake the thought that there might be more to the attack. After all, if someone went to all the trouble of launching an intricate operation, stealing tech without any obvious indication of their affiliation, they were either being deliberately obtuse or had a purpose other than petty theft.

Fii grunted in agreement. "I'd put nothing past those turds."

Tweak's smile faltered slightly, a glint of concern flickering across her face before she masked it with a nonchalant shrug. "Well, if it's any consolation, getting shocked mid-air sounds like an epic way to lose a fight. Not many can say that."

"Wouldn't be my first choice of losing battle strategies." Fii ran her hands through her white hair, pulling out a few pieces of gravel she hadn't been able to dislodge earlier.

"Well, in your case, it's not much of a strategy at all."

Fii poked her tongue out at Tweak and blew a raspberry.

"I mean, think about it. Someone came at you with some seriously slick moves, and all you had was like, 'I can control gravity... oh wait, maybe not,' and then splat!" Tweak clapped her hands together, mimicking a collision. Her laugh was a little too lively. "Falling from that height is a real game-over, you know?"

"You know I'm tough to break." Fii held her hands up in mock defeat. "And you're a great comfort."

Tweak rolled her eyes. "Please, at least pretend to care. Who else will bring the rousing speeches after such riveting heroics? You're lucky to have me. There should be statues made to commemorate this level of friendship."

"Sure," Fii quipped back. "Your sparkling personality can't be undervalued."

"Anyway, tell me more about these high-tech party crashers. You sure they were just Zippers?"

"I'm not sure of anything," Fii admitted. "That's why I'm here."

"And here I thought you loved basking in my radiance."

The corner of Fii's mouth twisted into a half-smile. "Not your worst guess."

Pushing back from her setup, Tweak let her chair spin lazily in place before swiveling around. "You want me to dig?"

Fii nodded. "If anyone can figure this out, it's you."

"Aw, babe, you know I always got your back, but—" she hopped up from her chair and sauntered over to a dingy, old-fashioned coffee machine. Grabbing the pot, she poured the dark brew into a mug that looked like it hadn't been washed in weeks. Taking a slow sip, Tweak continued, "—it's been a bit crazy around here lately."

"Crazier than flying drones tasing someone off a zip-line?"

Tweak leaned against the table, swirling the coffee in her mug. "Tell me about it. Haven't had a decent night's sleep in... who knows?"

Fii looked at the bank of flickering screens displaying various lines of code and system processes.

"New gig?" she asked. It would make sense that Tweak was juggling multiple projects, given her skill set and her penchant for never turning down a challenge. Still, her lack of rest was worrying.

"Not exactly." She pointed towards one of the screens showing a rapid cascade of characters. "Remember that server job a while back?"

"Which one?"

"The one you called a dumpster fire." Tweak's gaze remained fixed on her screen, her cybernetic eye glowing softly in the dim light. "Turns out, whoever's behind that shit has some serious muscle backing them. Been trying to keep a few steps ahead in this cat-and-mouse game ever since."

"Wait... They're still on you?"

"You know me," she scoffed, a hint of pride in her voice, "too slippery to pin down."

"Seriously though, what's going on? Since when do simple jobs go that sideways?"

Tweak hesitated before answering, a brief flicker of unease crossing her face. "To be honest, I'm not sure. This thing's got more tentacles than a freakin' octopus. Thought I'd untangled the last of it, but here they are again."

"You need to get clear. Lay low for a bit, maybe?" Fii's expression was clouded with worry.

She knew Tweak was stubborn, always the first to jump into something and the last to admit any sign of struggle. But Fii also knew that sometimes a step back was necessary for self-preservation. From what she remembered about that job, it was a mess from the start—a far cry from the straightforward corporate data-scraping gig it had promised to be.

"Ugh, don't give me that look," Tweak admonished, swatting Fii's arm. "It's under control. Probably. Just haven't seen anyone come at a hack like this before, all flashy and overblown. It's like they want to prove a point."

She put her mug down, stretching her arms out in an exaggerated yawn. Her back gave a small pop. "There's a reason I stick to the tech side of things. Might not be as cool as swinging around on zip lines, but at least it keeps my problems at arm's length. And by arm length, I mean safely behind multiple firewalls and encrypted servers."

"I swear you're going to worry me to an early grave," Fii teased gently. "But... is there anything I can do to help?"

Tweak pondered the question, her cybernetic eye seemed to whirr slightly as if it was actively part of her thought process.

"I'll let you know." She reached back to tie her hair up in a messy bun, the movement exposing a tattoo on the nape of her neck—a small, delicate depiction of a blue dragon winding through clouds. "Maybe swing by tomorrow? Give me time to sort this stuff out a bit."

Fii nodded. "I can do that. Just... stay safe, okay? No sudden adventures or going dark on me."

"Who's the one who fell out of the air?" Tweak threw her a wink. "We're the worst at taking our own advice."

"Low blow," Fii retorted with a playful punch on Tweak's shoulder.

"Try not to get zapped again. It'd break my heart if my best friend fried her brains out. After all, who else would put up with me?" The jest in her voice was clear, but there was an undercurrent of genuine concern. This was Tweak's way—hiding her affection beneath a snarky exterior.

"Now you're breaking my heart. I feel the love," Fii quipped.

"What can I say? I'm a regular old softie." She mimicked wiping a tear from her cheek, a twinkle in her eye.

"Yeah, a big ol' teddy bear." Fii chuckled, taking one last look at the screen where the code scrolled, wondering what kind of tech behemoth could make Tweak nervous. It had to be some heavy hitters. "Okay, see you tomorrow. Promise me you'll catch some actual sleep?"

"Only if you promise not to plummet from the sky like a rock again." Tweak patted her own rear end. "Take care of those assets, babe!"

"You know it," Fii replied with a smile and a light-hearted salute. "Rest easy, ya crazy data-jockey."