I touched down softly on the cracked sidewalk, the jacket's systems diffusing the last of my momentum until it felt like stepping off a curb instead of plummeting forty floors. The Miami night wrapped around me, thick and wet—humid air reeking of exhaust, sweat, and fried food from a late-night vendor half a block away.
Distant sirens wailed, bass-heavy music throbbed from some rooftop club, and beneath it all pulsed the restless hum of a city that refused to sleep.
That's when I saw her.
A lone figure, curled against a chain-link fence like a discarded secret. She looked up as I landed, and for a split second my brain blue-screened.
Eighteen, maybe nineteen. Asian features sharpened by hunger and fear, intelligent dark eyes reflecting the streetlight like polished obsidian. Her long black hair was a mess, strands clinging to her damp skin, but even disheveled it framed her face like art. Her clothes told the story—ripped and smeared with city grime.
