I spent the night clearing the workbench, the smell of soldering iron and stale stim-caf replacing the scent of cherry blossoms. It’s better this way. Real.

The downtown fence didn't disappoint, though the "wiz-kid" turned out to be a twitchy dwarf with a data-jack scar that looked like it was carved with a rusty combat knife. He had the goods, though. Hidden under a pile of mothballed telecom gear was a Fairlight Excalibur chassis—stripped of its corporate markings but humming with that unmistakable military

grade purr.

It cost me nearly every Nuyen I had stashed in my off-shore accounts, & I had to trade a few high level encryption keys I’d lifted from the Evo run just to close the gap. It hurt to let those go, but you can't slot paydata without a rig to run it on.

I’m currently elbow deep in the casing, swapping out the stock cooling loops for a custom nitrogen slurry setup. I’ve overclocked the MPCP until the boards are practically glowing. If I did this right, I’ll be able to ghost through a Host’s front door before their IC even finishes a handshake protocol.

Kestrel’s latest ping just hit the burner. It’s the Seattle leak, turns out it’s not just data. It’s a roadmap to a Renraku black site. The kind of place that doesn't exist on any map, but has enough high-tier tech to make the Evo job look like a script-kiddie's first hack.

My hands aren't shaking anymore. The phantom feedback is gone, replaced by the solid weight of the Excalibur's deck plate. I’m jacking in for a system stress test in five.

If I see the blossoms again, I'm ignoring them. I'm not looking for signs anymore. I'm looking for the breach