The rain was a fine mist that clung to everything, muting the glow of the city lights. Neo Lyon was a restless beast, its breath of smoke and decay heavy in the air as I crouched in the alley behind the jewelry shop. The droplet ran on my costume, leaving it pristine. Despite its cover, the cold still bit at my face. The days are getting colder each day, and that was perfect for today. I needed to stay on the edge.

  My eyes scanned the dim alley, pausing on the faint blue glow of the keypad by the back entrance. It was quiet—too quiet. Even the faint hum of a patrol drone was absent. I had timed this window perfectly, threading myself through the patterns I’d studied obsessively for days.

  I touched the small scanner in my utility belt, its weight grounding me. A quick sweep of the keypad earlier in the week had confirmed my suspicions: the system was connected to MetaPol’s grid, but the encryption was laughably weak. Either this place had grown complacent under their umbrella of protection, or someone wanted to leave an opening.

  The thought made me uneasy, but I shoved it aside. Focus, Liz.

  The alley smelled of damp concrete and rotting garbage, Neo Lyon’s eternal perfume. The flicker of distant neon signs painted the brick walls in fleeting bursts of color. I took a deep breath and slipped my portable signal jammer from its confines. The device was battered, its casing cracked from years of misuse, but it hummed to life when I flicked the switch.

  A faint beep from the keypad confirmed that the signal loop was working, overriding the connection temporarily. I pulled on a pair of thin gloves, my fingers trembling slightly as I keyed in the code I’d pieced together from smudged fingerprints.

  The door clicked open.

  My heart thudded as I pushed it ajar, the soft creak of the hinges blending with the steady rhythm of the rain. Inside, the air was colder, the faint scent of polished wood and metal replacing the alley’s stink. The storage room was small and utilitarian, stacked with cardboard boxes and cheap shelving.

  The safe was the real goal.

  I crept through the room, my boots silent on the ground, as they were designed. The faint glow of motion sensors dotted the walls, but I’d already mapped their range. A quick shuffle to the left, a duck to the right, and I was past them, my pulse pounding in my ears.

  The safe sat in the corner like a sullen beast, its steel face reflecting the faint light from a nearby fixture. I knelt beside it, pulling out the small toolkit I’d lifted from the pawnshop circuit. It wasn’t some elaborate and pretty work, but it’d do. Affixing it onto the lock mechanism, I turned it on.

  The lock sizzled a black-purplish smoke before it fell on the floor, toolkit in tow.

  “The safe is now open…” I exhaled slowly, my breath clouding in the chill air.

  Inside, bundles of cash sat stacked neatly alongside a collection of velvet-lined boxes. The gems within caught the light, glinting like tiny stars trapped in their cases.

  I stuffed the cash into one of the pockets on my belt, the one where I kept at all times 20€ for emergencies. Now the money should amount to 500 times that, seeing the 200 bills.

  “Lucky me, seems like lots of people still pay in cash…”

  A few choice pieces of jewelry followed, their weight oddly comforting. Those I kept in a more interior compartment of the belt. Less chances of losing those small, conspicuous pieces.

  I was almost finished when the soft sound of footsteps reached my ears.

  My body froze, every muscle coiling tight. The steps were deliberate, the kind that didn’t belong to the security guard pacing lazily at the front of the store.

  I pressed myself against the wall, my breath shallow as I peered toward the entrance. A figure moved through the shadows with unsettling grace, their movements fluid and precise.

  A woman.

  She was tall, her frame lithe but strong, and her presence filled the room like a storm waiting to break. Her white suit was pristine, its starkness making her seem almost spectral in the dim light. A blue symbol of Libra adorned her chest—a balanced scale that felt anything but reassuring.

  Just my luck, seems like a hero stumbled on me…

  The rain dripped down from the open back door, a faint patter accompanying the tense silence in the storage room. My grip on the wall tightened, heart racing as the figure stepped closer. Her movements were deliberate, a predator with no intention of rushing its prey.

  Think, Liz, think.

  The suit marked her as a metahuman. Heroes and villains alike didn’t walk into jobs like this without a purpose, which meant this wasn’t a chance encounter. But why would anyone in a pristine white suit—something clearly designed for show—be skulking around the back of a jewelry shop?

  I weighed my options. Fight? Not ideal. Escape? Also not promising with her between me and the exit. Hide? Too late for that. My only advantage was that she hadn’t spotted me yet.

  The woman stopped near the safe, her gloved hand brushing against the open door. She glanced inside, her head tilting slightly as if in thought. A faint smirk tugged at her lips as she reached into the compartment, plucking a handful of jewels with an air of detached curiosity.

  “Sloppy,” she murmured, her voice low but cutting through the silence like a blade. “You really should’ve locked this after opening it.”

  I bit back a curse. She knew I was here.

  The woman straightened, her gaze sweeping the room. I ducked lower into the shadows, my back pressed against the wall as tightly as possible.

  “You can come out now,” she called, her tone calm but laced with authority. “I’m not in the mood to play hide-and-seek.”

  Her words were met with silence, the air between us growing heavier.

  Don’t move. Don’t breathe. Don’t—

  “It’s funny,” she continued, crouching to inspect the toolkit I’d left by the safe. “Whoever did this clearly knows their way around locks. But finesse? Not so much. Melting the mechanism? A brute-force solution.” She paused, her tone turning mocking. “Not very subtle for someone stealing from MetaPol’s backyard.”

  A cold knot formed in my stomach. My instincts screamed at me to bolt, but my brain wrestled them into submission. Running meant exposing myself.

  She rose fluidly, her posture relaxed but her movements deliberate as she scanned the room. “You’ve got ten seconds,” she said, stepping toward the shelves that shielded me from view. “After that, I’ll drag you out myself.”

  Shit, she isn’t bluffing, and letting her yank me into the open would only put me at a greater disadvantage.

  Fine.

  “Alright,” I said, stepping out with my hands raised, trying to project an air of calm I didn’t feel. “You caught me. Congratulations.”

  Her gaze locked onto mine, and for a brief moment, I thought I saw a flicker of surprise in her eyes. It was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by something colder.

  “You’re not Corsair’s usual brand of goon,” she said, her sharp eyes raking over me. “Too clean. Too clever.”

  I smiled faintly, more of a nervous tick from my barmaid time. “Corsair? Please. Do I look like someone who’d work for that hack?”

  Her expression didn’t shift. Or more like I couldn’t see if it shifted at all with the fabric over her whole face. The room seemed to narrow around her presence, her poised confidence leaving little room for rebuttal.

  “You don’t,” she admitted after a pause, her voice devoid of the tension I felt. “Which makes me wonder—who are you working for?”

  “No one. Just an independent taking advantage of an oversight. The less entanglements, the better.”

  Her gaze didn’t waver. The pristine white of her suit was unmarred by the dampness clinging to the room, as if the grime of Neo Lyon didn’t dare touch her. The symbol of Libra on her chest glinted faintly under the dim light, a strange beacon of authority and power that made my skin crawl.

  “Independent,” she repeated, her voice carrying an edge of disbelief. “In MetaPol’s backyard? Either you’re a fool, or you’ve got bigger plans than a handful of cash and trinkets.”

  Her words pricked at me, but I forced myself to keep my expression neutral. “Plans? You’re reading too much into it. Just a quick job, and I’m gone. Quick money in only a few days of planning ahead.”

  The tension was thick as the white-suited figure studied me. Her presence was overwhelming, radiating an authority I couldn’t place. She wasn’t MetaPol—her lack of their insignia made that clear—but the white colour and her symbol literally screamed “I serve justice!”.

  “Quick money,” she mused, her voice light but cutting. “In a district crawling with MetaPol and surveillance drones. Either you’re very confident or very stupid.” She took a deliberate step closer, her gloved hands loose at her sides but ready. “Which is it?”

  I didn’t flinch, though my heart thundered in my chest. “Confident,” I replied evenly, lifting my chin just a fraction. “Told you, planned ahead.”

  “Planned, yes…” The fabric of her mask stretches slightly at where her mouth should be, a smirk maybe? “But not planned well enough as I found you, no?”

  I sigh. “I didn’t expect some Vigilante deciding to patrol a Metapol District, true.”

  The smirk—or what I assumed was a smirk—lingered on her masked face as she shifted her weight slightly, her posture casual but clearly ready to strike if needed. “Vigilante?” she echoed, tilting her head slightly. “An interesting assumption.”

  I frowned, keeping my hands raised but lowering my tone. “White suit, symbol of balance—You’ve got the whole ‘justice dealer’ aesthetic down. If you’re not a vigilante, then what are you?”

  Her laugh was low and cold, like the rain sliding down the walls outside.

  Her laugh was low and cold, like the rain sliding down the walls outside. “Justice dealer?” she repeated, amusement dripping from her tone. “Not quite. I’m more... selective in how I dispense balance.”

  I narrowed my eyes, trying to gauge her intentions. She exuded confidence, a predator sizing up its prey, but there was something unnervingly calm about her. If she were here to stop me, she’d have acted already. Instead, she seemed content to toy with me, which only made her more dangerous.

  “Selective balance,” I echoed, my voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through me. “Sounds like a fancy way of saying you’re a mercenary for morality.”

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  Her head tilted slightly, like a cat intrigued by a mouse. “You could say that. Or you could say I make sure the scales tip in the right direction—whether or not the world agrees.”

  “Cryptic much?” I shot back, shifting my stance slightly to prepare for any sudden moves. “If you’re not here for MetaPol or Corsair, then why are you here?”

  Her gaze lingered on me for a moment longer before she turned, idly examining the jewels I hadn’t yet pocketed. “Same as you, I’d imagine,” she said casually. “Opportunity. Though I prefer my methods to be a bit more... elegant.”

  I bristled at the jab but forced myself to stay calm. “If you’re after the loot, you’re welcome to it. I’ll just take what I’ve already grabbed and be on my way.”

  Her laugh echoed again, colder this time. “Oh, you think this is about loot? How quaint.”

  Before I could respond, her hand darted out, snatching one of the smaller jewel cases from the safe. She held it up to the light, the diamond inside catching the dim glow and refracting it in shards of brilliance.

  “Diamonds,” she mused, her tone almost bored. “Symbols of clarity, strength, resilience. And yet, they’re so easily shattered under the right pressure.” Her eyes flicked back to me, piercing and unyielding. “Tell me, thief, do you consider yourself resilient?”

  I bristled under her scrutiny, my instinct screaming that every word out of her mouth was more than just banter. It was a test—a probe, seeking cracks in my composure. I wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction of seeing me falter.

  “I’d say so,” I replied evenly, though my pulse betrayed me with its pounding. “Haven’t been crushed yet.”

  Her fingers tightened on the jewel case, and with a deliberate motion, she dropped it back into the safe. The soft clink of metal on velvet was louder than it should have been in the tense quiet. “We’ll see,” she said, her voice cool and enigmatic. “Resilience isn’t just about surviving—it’s about knowing what you stand for when the pressure’s on.”

  I wasn’t sure if she was taunting me, testing me, or just toying with me. Probably all three. Either way, the longer this conversation dragged on, the more dangerous it felt. My mind raced with escape plans, weighing the risks of making a move against staying locked in this bizarre standoff.

  “Look,” I said, my voice low but firm. “I don’t know who you are, and frankly, I don’t care. You’ve got your philosophy about balance or whatever. Fine. But I’ve got no interest in crossing you tonight, so how about we both walk away?”

  Her head tilted again, the fabric of her mask stretching slightly where her mouth should have been. Amusement? Contempt? It was impossible to tell. “Walk away?” she repeated, her voice carrying a hint of mockery. “From what, exactly? You’ve already walked into something much bigger than you realize.”

  A chill ran down my spine. Her tone wasn’t threatening—it was something worse. She sounded amused, like she was watching a piece on a chessboard make an inevitable, losing move.

  “I don’t play games,” I said sharply, lowering my hands but keeping my posture defensive. “If you’ve got a point, make it.”

  Her body language shifted, and for a moment, I thought she might attack. Instead, she took a step closer, her presence overwhelming in the small room. “My point,” she said, her voice quieter now but no less commanding, “is that you’re not just another thief. Not tonight. You’re here, in this district, at this shop, for a reason. And whether you know it or not, you’ve put yourself in the middle of something that’s going to crush you if you’re not careful.”

  I blinked, caught off guard by the intensity in her words. Was she trying to warn me? Or was this some twisted power play to rattle me? Either way, I wasn’t about to show weakness. “Cryptic much?” I said, forcing a smirk onto my face. “You’re making it sound like I stumbled into some grand conspiracy. Newsflash—I’m just here for the cash and the jewels.”

  Her silence was more unnerving than any retort she could have made. She simply stood there, watching me like a puzzle she was trying to solve. The longer the quiet stretched, the harder it became to maintain my composure.

  Finally, she spoke, her voice low and measured. “You think this is about money? This place isn’t just another jewelry shop. And that safe you cracked? It’s not just holding trinkets—it’s holding leverage.”

  I froze, my mind racing. Leverage? What the hell was she talking about? Was this some kind of MetaPol operation I’d unknowingly walked into? The idea sent a jolt of panic through me, but I shoved it down, keeping my expression neutral.

  “Leverage, huh?” I said, forcing a dry chuckle. “If that’s true, maybe you should take it up with the shop’s owner instead of bothering me.”

  Her gaze didn’t waver. “I would,” she said evenly, “but they’re not the one standing in front of me with stolen goods in their pocket.”

  I bit back a curse. This wasn’t going anywhere. She was too composed, too confident, and every instinct I had screamed that she was in control of this encounter. I needed to change the dynamic before she decided to make a move.

  “What do you want from me?” I asked, letting a hint of exasperation creep into my tone. “If you’re here to take me down, just get it over with. Otherwise, let me go and stop wasting my time.”

  For the first time, her posture shifted. She crossed her arms over her chest, the symbol of Libra on her suit catching the dim light again. “What I want,” she said slowly, “is to know why you’re really here. And don’t give me the ‘quick money’ excuse again. You’re too careful for that.”

  I stared at her, my mind spinning. She wasn’t going to let this go, and the longer we stood here, the more likely it was that something would go wrong. I needed to find a way to end this—and fast.

  “I told you,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “I’m an independent operator. No one sent me, and I’ve got no ulterior motives. I saw an opportunity, and I took it. End of story.”

  The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife as the woman in white studied me. She leaned against the wall, her posture deceptively casual, though every inch of her screamed readiness. Her unwavering gaze burned like a spotlight, peeling back layers I’d spent years constructing.

  "End of story?" she repeated, her tone dripping skepticism. "If that’s true, then you’re a bigger fool than I thought."

  I gritted my teeth. “You’ve made your point. I’m not exactly thrilled about this conversation either, so why don’t we just go our separate ways?”

  She ignored my words, stepping closer until she was within arm’s reach of me. I tensed, ready to act, but she didn’t strike. Instead, she reached into her pristine white coat and pulled out a small, black device—sleek and unfamiliar. With a flick of her wrist, she turned it on. The room buzzed faintly, and the air seemed to shift.

  The weight of the moment hit me all at once. This wasn’t some random vigilante or hero playing cat and mouse. Whoever she was, she had tech far beyond the likes of MetaPol or Corsair.

  “You don’t even know what you’ve stumbled into, do you?” she asked, her voice softer now, almost pitying. “This shop isn’t what it seems, and the safe you cracked? It was more than just a score. You’ve pried open a door you’re not prepared to walk through.”

  I folded my arms, forcing myself to stand tall even though my instincts screamed at me to back down. “Then enlighten me. What’s so special about this shop that it’s worth all this trouble?”

  The woman sighed, her gloved fingers tapping the edge of the device she held. “This isn’t just a jewelry store. It’s a front—a safehouse for something much bigger. Some of those velvet-lined boxes contain more than jewelry. They’re holding data, documents, and leverage over powerful people. People who don’t like their secrets being touched.”

  A cold knot formed in my stomach. The jewels and cash I’d pocketed suddenly felt heavier, like they’d grown thorns. “Leverage?” I repeated.

  She nodded. “MetaPol uses shops like these as hidden archives—places to store sensitive information away from their official networks. The fact you’ve breached it is a problem—for them and for you.”

  I stared at her, trying to process her words. My first instinct was to call her a liar, but something in her tone—calm, steady, and devoid of theatrics—made me pause.

  “So what now?” I asked, my voice tight. “You take me in? Hand me over to MetaPol?”

  She chuckled, the sound low and sharp. “If that were my goal, you’d already be in cuffs. No, I’m not here to help MetaPol. I’m here because the information in that safe could tip the balance of power in Neo Lyon—and I can’t afford for it to end up in the wrong hands.”

  Her words hung heavy in the air. I didn’t trust her, but I couldn’t ignore the gravity of what she was saying. “And whose hands are the right ones? Yours?”

  She didn’t flinch at the accusation, her gaze steady. “I’m not asking for your trust. I’m asking for your cooperation.”

  A dry laugh escaped me before I could stop it. “Cooperation? You want me to just hand over everything I’ve taken and pretend this never happened?”

  “Not exactly.” She took a step back, giving me space, though her presence still loomed. “What I want is to make sure this doesn’t spiral into something worse. The people who own this data don’t play fair, and they don’t leave loose ends.”

  The implications hit me like a punch to the gut. If what she said was true, then by cracking that safe, I’d put myself in the crosshairs of some of the most dangerous players in Neo Lyon.

  “Why are you telling me this?” I asked, narrowing my eyes. “What’s your angle?”

  Her gaze softened, just a fraction. “Because whether you like it or not, you’re involved now. And if you want to survive, you’ll need my help.”

  I didn’t like the way her words settled in my chest, but she wasn’t wrong. The idea of walking away from this unscathed was laughable, and my instincts told me that this woman—whoever she was—wasn’t bluffing.

  “What’s the catch?” I asked, my tone wary.

  “No catch,” she said, though the faint smirk on her face suggested otherwise. “You walk out of here with what you’ve taken, and I walk out with what I came for. But you keep your head down and your hands clean, or I won’t be there to save you when the consequences come knocking.”

  I clenched my fists, weighing her offer. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but the alternative—facing MetaPol or whoever else owned this shop’s secrets—was worse.

  “Fine,” I said finally. “But if this backfires, I’m not going down alone.”

  Her smirk widened. “Fair enough.”

  With that, she turned back to the safe, extracting a small, nondescript USB drive from a hidden compartment. She slipped it into her pocket with the ease of someone who’d done this a hundred times before.

  The woman’s movements were deliberate, every step calculated. She moved like she owned the room—hell, the entire city—and I hated the way that unsettled me. My instincts screamed at me to run, to fight, to do anything but stand here, pinned by her words and her presence. But something told me she wasn’t bluffing.

  The USB disappeared into her coat, her expression unreadable beneath the mask. “You’ve got good instincts,” she said, breaking the silence. “Quick thinking, resourceful, and you’re not afraid to take risks. That’s rare in Neo Lyon, especially from someone flying solo.”

  “Flattery won’t get you anywhere,” I said flatly, crossing my arms to keep my hands from trembling. “If you’re trying to recruit me, save it. I don’t play well with others.”

  Her chuckle was low and almost amused. “Recruit you? No. But I’m not above making an ally where one might be useful.”

  Ally? Was she serious? I stared at her, trying to read past the mask, past the deliberate way she carried herself. She wasn’t giving anything away, but the way she spoke—the confidence, the subtle weight behind her words—told me she was used to getting what she wanted.

  “You think I’m just going to trust you because you haven’t knocked me out or dragged me to MetaPol yet?” I asked, my voice sharp.

  She shrugged, unbothered. “Trust isn’t what I’m asking for. Cooperation, on the other hand? That’s a different matter. You’ve already proven you can get into places most people can’t. That makes you valuable.”

  “Valuable enough to let me walk away?” I asked, my tone bitter.

  “For now.” Her head tilted, the faint light catching the scales on her suit. “But don’t mistake this for charity. You’ve crossed into a game you don’t even know you’re playing, and the stakes are higher than you think.”

  I bit back the retort forming on my lips. If she was telling the truth, then my simple heist had just turned into a disaster waiting to happen. But I wasn’t about to let her see how much her words rattled me.

  “So what now?” I asked, keeping my voice steady. “You walk out with your USB, I keep my haul, and we pretend this never happened?”

  “Essentially,” the woman said, her tone a perfect blend of assurance and finality. “But don’t mistake silence for inaction. You’ve drawn attention tonight, whether you realize it or not, and attention in this city always comes at a price.”

  Her words landed heavier than they should have, the weight of implication settling into my chest. I wanted to argue, to tell her she was wrong, but the truth was I couldn’t be sure. Neo Lyon’s underworld wasn’t forgiving, and neither was MetaPol.

  “And you?” I asked, crossing my arms to steady myself. “What’s your price in all this?”

  She paused, the faintest glimmer of amusement behind her mask. “Consider it a professional courtesy. You’ve stepped into something larger than a quick payday, and while I can’t guarantee you’ll come out unscathed, I can ensure you’re not trampled entirely.”

  “Generous,” I said dryly, though I couldn’t quite keep the edge of suspicion from my voice. “Why not let me fend for myself? Or hand me over to MetaPol?”

  “Because I need someone who knows how to get into places like this.” Her voice sharpened, cutting through the tension. “You’ve already proven you’re capable, even if your methods could use refinement. And you’re not tied to Corsair, which makes you a rarity—a free agent in a city full of pawns.”

  A free agent. It sounded better than thief or fugitive, but it didn’t erase the precarious position I found myself in. Still, the fact that she hadn’t already handed me over—or worse—suggested she wasn’t bluffing about wanting cooperation. Or at least, her version of it.

  “So, what’s your play?” I asked, narrowing my eyes. “You’ve clearly got more than a USB on your mind. What happens when this shop’s owner realizes the safe’s been hit?”

  “Let them,” she said simply, her confidence unnerving. “They’ll find a mess, sure. But nothing that leads back to me. Or you, if you’re smart.”

  I bristled at the implication but stayed quiet. Her movements were deliberate, almost calculated to keep me on edge without pushing me too far. Whatever game she was playing, she had the upper hand, and we both knew it.

  “You’ll know me as Libra.” she said finally, her voice taking on a commanding edge. “And what should I call you, Ms. Thief?”

  “Replica. Just call me Replica.”

  “Good. Then Replica, I hope you’ll be able to properly leave this place safely. I expect seeing you on friday there.”

  As she declared, a card flew up her hand in my direction.

  I barely had the time to catch and read the address on it that Libra had disappeared in the pitter patter of the rain.