John hung up the phone and sat at the bar with a bitter smile.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a titanium hand.
[Item: Energy Drink]
[Effect: Neural protection, sensation amplification]
Tinfoil pushed the bottle of drink over.
She propped herself up on the table, flipped her body onto it, and sat down.
"Plato experimental subdermal armor, the stuff from the bounty order, where did you get it?"
"I did a job with Damascus Camp, robbed a transport station under Ironfoot Kelp's name. It was tough, his unlucky henchman almost killed me."
John picked up the drink and chugged it—it was barely sweet, with a stimulant kick, and an aftertaste of rust.
"This stuff doesn't sell well, huh?"
"Imported goods."
Tinfoil surfed the web as intensively as other hackers, wearing a hooded tech overalls with a protruding metal interface at the back of her head, specifically for deep diving into networks.
She was a professional hacker, the best kind.
