The Gutter's Glimmer

"You're late," a voice, rich with a low hum like a poorly grounded circuit, cut through the hiss of the falling rain.

Liv jumped, a full centimetre off the ground, her hand automatically flying to the coil-gun holstered at her hip. Not a lot of people could sneak up on her, especially not in this noise. She spun, drops of water spraying from her hood, to see Vic leaning against a wall streaked with bioluminescent algae. His dark eyes, usually shadowed, glinted in the purple spill of a defunct ‘OptiCorp Futures’ sign. He had that infuriating smirk on his face, the one that made her want to punch him and ask him out for a synth-coffee simultaneously.

"And you're… early," Liv retorted, forcing her hand away from her weapon. Her heart was still hammering, a frantic drum against her ribs. She hated that he could still surprise her. He wore a patched-up flight jacket, the kind of salvaged military tech that fetched a decent credit on the grey market, and a dark scarf that was probably doing nothing to keep the biting autumn chill from his throat. His breath plumed white in the cold, a stark contrast to the indifferent drizzle.

He pushed off the wall, a fluid movement that somehow seemed too graceful for this grimy alley. "Somebody has to be punctual, Liv. Otherwise, the whole delicate ecosystem of data-runners and information brokers falls apart. Then where would we be? Stuck selling repurposed chip-mods to lonely automatons?"

"I wouldn't put it past you," she muttered, sidestepping a puddle that reflected the distorted neon. "And besides, my internal chrono said 'within the next five minutes.' I'm practically ahead of schedule."

"Ah, the 'Liv Standard Time'. A truly flexible concept." He chuckled, a low, pleasant sound that made the hairs on her arms prickle. It was unfair, she thought, how a guy who probably lived on instant nutrient paste and stolen power cells could sound so… charming. And why did she even care? This was business.

She forced herself to focus, pushing down the odd flutter in her stomach. "The data drop. Is it clear?"

Vic gestured with a tilt of his head towards an old, bolted-shut utility access panel, its paint peeling like ancient skin. "Clear as a freshly wiped drive. For now. You got the payment code? Or are we just admiring the industrial decay tonight?"

Liv reached into an inner pocket, her fingers brushing against the cold, smooth surface of her encrypted data chip. "Always a pleasure to admire decay with you, Vic. Adds character." She pulled out a small, worn datapad, its screen a dull grey in the dim light. She began to type, her fingers flying over the holographic keys, inputting the coordinates and the unique, one-time authentication sequence for the access panel. This wasn't just another drop. This was big, the kind of intel that could make a name for her, or get her disappeared.

A Stubborn Lock and a Fleeting Touch

A soft, rhythmic beep from her datapad confirmed the input. She moved towards the panel, her boot scuffing against a stray, brown leaf, and pressed her palm against the tarnished scanner plate. A dull red light pulsed, then a terse, mechanical voice crackled from a nearly invisible speaker: "Access Denied. Insufficient Credentials."

Liv frowned, tapping the pad impatiently. "What? That's impossible. The client verified the access code just an hour ago."

Vic was beside her in an instant, his proximity a sudden, warm presence against the autumn chill. She could smell something faint – not synth-ale, but something like metallic dust and ozone, and under that, something distinctly human, earthy. "Let me see." His fingers, long and nimble, hovered over her datapad, not quite touching hers. "They must have updated the encryption protocols. Standard corpo paranoia. Or maybe this particular access point is just having a bad day."

He leaned in closer, his shoulder brushing hers, as he scrutinised the error message. Her breath hitched. The mundane act of trying to bypass a security system suddenly felt charged, electric. She found herself focusing on the faint stubble on his jaw, the way his dark hair curled just behind his ear, instead of the glowing green lines of the datapad. Idiot, Liv, she chided herself. Focus.

"This isn't a protocol update," Vic murmured, his voice a low rumble. "It's a bespoke lockout. Probably tied to the last person who used it. Someone didn't wipe their session properly." He pulled a thin, multi-tool from his own jacket, its metallic glint catching the neon. "Gimme a second."

He carefully inserted one of the tool's many prongs into a tiny, almost invisible port on the panel. His knuckles brushed against hers, a fleeting, accidental touch that sent a strange warmth spreading through her arm. Liv felt a sudden urge to just… lean into him, let the cold and the danger and the frantic beat of her own heart fade away for a moment. It was a stupid, dangerous thought, the kind that got people killed in this city.

His brow furrowed in concentration, the light from the panel reflecting in his eyes. He worked with a quiet efficiency, his fingers dancing across the tiny connections. It was mesmerising, almost poetic, watching him bypass the digital lock with such analogue precision.

"There," he exhaled, pulling the tool out with a soft click. The red light on the panel flickered, then blinked green. The mechanical voice, now less abrasive, intoned: "Access Granted. Please Proceed."

A small, almost imperceptible metallic *thunk* echoed from within the wall. The panel, previously a seamless part of the grim concrete, now had a barely visible seam that glowed faintly. He’d done it.

Liv quickly inserted her chip into the now-exposed port. Data streamed, a silent, furious exchange of information between her drive and the secure server deep within the wall. The air around them seemed to crackle with the energy of it. She glanced at Vic, a genuine, unbidden smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Show-off."

He returned the smile, a flash of white in the purple-tinged darkness. "You wound me. I was merely… assisting a colleague in distress. Though I do expect a finder's fee for my unparalleled expertise in disarming antiquated corporate tech."

"Don't push it," she scoffed, but the warmth was still there, in her chest. "The payment was already agreed upon. No extra service charges."

The transfer completed with a final, satisfied chime from her datapad. She pulled her chip out, tucked it securely away. The panel hissed shut, seamless once more. For a moment, they just stood there, the rain continuing its endless patter, the cold seeping deeper into their bones, but the shared space between them felt strangely… buoyant, despite the grim surroundings. There was a pull, a quiet understanding that went beyond their usual skirmishes for credits and intel.

"Right," Vic said, breaking the spell, his gaze sweeping the alley. He was good at compartmentalising, at switching from charming rogue to watchful predator in an instant. "Our window. It's closing."

Liv heard it then, too. The faint, rhythmic *thump-thump-thump* of rotors, growing louder, closer. Not the usual aerocars. These were heavier, faster, and they flew lower. Corporate security. And they sounded like they were coming this way. Her stomach lurched, the momentary warmth replaced by a jolt of icy adrenaline.

"They knew," she breathed, her eyes wide, scanning the narrow alley for an escape. "They were waiting."

Vic grabbed her arm, his grip surprisingly firm, not hurting but conveying an urgent, unspoken command. "Doesn't matter now. Move!" He pulled her towards a rusting fire escape, its metal groaning under their combined weight as they clambered upwards, the rhythmic thumping growing into a deafening roar. Below, the alley was suddenly bathed in blinding spotlights, and the sharp, distinct whir of a drone's plasma cannon charging up pierced the night.

"They're serious," Liv yelled over the noise, scrambling onto a narrow ledge. The metallic tang of fear was now sharp in her throat. This wasn't just a lockout; this was an ambush. And they were caught, illuminated like insects under a microscope, with nowhere left to run.

The drone's targeting laser, a crimson dot, danced across Vic's back.

Escape into the Crimson Night