Flatline.

The fraggin' bio monitor finally quit screaming, leaving a hole in the air where Mouse used to be. The med gel's a bust, nanites just spinning in the claret like they’re lost in the Barrens. Her meat bod’s cold now, just a hunk of leaking chrome and spent potential.

We traded her spark for this slaggin' optical chip. A handful of nuyen and a ticket to Neo-Tokyo that neither of us is ever gonna punch. I’m sitting in the dark, clutching a corpse and smelling cherry blossoms that aren't there…..just a glitch in my ol’factory, or maybe my soul's finally redlining.

The drones are hovering, thrumming like hungry sharks in the sprawl. Kestrel’s still ghosting the comms. Slot it all. Slot the credits, the data, and the Megas.

I’m down to the last mag of APDS. One for the door, one for the chip, and one for the long dark. See you in the Ultraviolet, Mouse.

I can't.