I woke up to a sharp poke in my ribs. I groaned, blinking sluggishly, but my eyes refused to focus. The room around me felt unfamiliar—too bright, walls covered in chaotic graffiti. I pushed myself up, the worn material under me catching my attention. I was lying on a recycled couch.

"She's still breathing."

My head snapped up, vision clearing just enough to spot someone kneeling beside me. They were staring at me through an electronic mask, its faceplate displaying two large pixelated dots—eyes, I supposed.

"Can. You. Speak?" The voice was heavily distorted, overlayed with robotic sound effects, but the figure's build told me it was a man.

"Can you back the hell off?" I shot back, my voice hoarse. The dots on the mask turned into startled exclamation marks.

I heard a soft chuckle behind me. "Now, now, no need to be rude."

I twisted around, my pulse spiking when I saw the same guy who'd broken into Blume. No glasses this time. Just his smug grin and the same irritatingly calm demeanor.

"Really? You kidnapped me?"

"Sorry about that," he said casually, shrugging. "We just wanted to get to know you a little better, but... we're kind of socially awkward, y'know?" His grin widened as if he were enjoying this. I could barely lift my head, let alone knock that smirk off his face like I wanted to.

"Yeah. How about you tell us more about your job?" a female voice chimed in from the back of the room. Footsteps echoed, and soon a woman stepped into view. She looked to be about my age, wearing an oversized sweater, mid-thigh shorts, and a bright purple scarf wrapped loosely around her neck. Knee-high socks with skull patterns peeked out from her tall lace-up boots. Her hair was swept into a side ponytail with streaks of neon purple, and her eyes were framed by heavy green eyeshadow. Was she trying to make a statement or just following some underground fashion trend? I had no idea.

I groaned. "Well, if you must know, what I do is none of your goddamn business."

She laughed lightly. "Ooh, is that an attitude I spot?"

"What are you, anyway? Some kind of post-hipster cult?"

"That's one way to put it," she teased.

"The name DedSec ring a bell?" The masked man leaned closer, and I shifted away, trying to keep some distance between us.

"Back off, Bit Rate," I muttered. "It's not my area of expertise. But yeah, Blume's got files on DedSec scattered all over the place. Why? Are you affiliated?"

"Hah." The woman crossed her arms. "Blume's doing a great job of advertising us, huh?" She looked back at me, all humor gone. "Seriously, what's your role there?"

"I told you, it's none of your damn business. Now let me go."

"C'mon, don't be like that," she said with a half-smile. "We're just having a friendly conversation, trying to get to know each other better."

"I call this being too friendly."

"Then I guess we'll just have to get to know you another way." She turned and disappeared into the back of the room, reappearing moments later with my purse. My purse. I cursed silently as she rummaged through it, pulling out my ID card.

"A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Foster," she said, waving it mockingly.

"Don't bother. You won't find anything."

"She's right." All heads turned to a shadowy figure sitting under the stairs. His face was hidden in the dark, but his voice was clear. "Her name's not in the Blume database."

The woman's expression hardened as she turned back to me. "Why isn't your name on there?"

"I prefer keeping my information out of reach from people like you."

"Smart," she murmured. "But how about putting that cleverness to good use?"

I scoffed. "If you're trying to recruit me, you're wasting your time. What makes you think I'd go against the company that signs my paycheck?"

"You will, once you see how corrupt they are."

"As long as they keep paying me, I don't give a damn how corrupt they are."

"So, you're only there for the money?"

I stayed silent.

The woman sighed and folded her arms. "We can pay you, too, if that's what it'll take."

My heart skipped. Was this my way out? No, don't jump the gun yet.

"Desperate, are we?"

"Not desperate," she countered smoothly. "But we could use all the help we can get."

"I doubt you need a translator."

"So, you're a translator," the masked guy said with a laugh. "Was that so hard to admit?"

I rolled my eyes. "Look, just let me go, and I swear I won't breathe a word about this to anyone, okay?"

"No way." The woman smirked. "We need a translator."

"Think it over," she added. "But don't take too long. We want your answer in two days."

"I wouldn't hold my breath."

"Wrench will keep in touch." She gestured to the masked man. "You're free to go."

They all stepped aside, and I stood up shakily, avoiding eye contact as I made my way to the exit.

"Ms. Foster," she called after me. "Don't forget your purse." She tossed it to me, and I caught it clumsily, checking the contents. Everything was there, untouched.

"You carry some heavy stuff, by the way," the masked guy—Wrench—remarked. "A revolver? Really?"

"You get used to it when you're from where I'm from," I replied, voice flat.

Just as I turned to leave, he spoke again. I froze. "I hope you consider the offer. We could use someone like you."

I exhaled slowly, then turned back to face him. "What part of 'no' wasn't clear? I'm not quitting Blume."

"And why not?" The guy from Blume stepped forward, his smile infuriatingly smug.

I glared at him. "Because it's too risky."

"No, it's not," he shot back. "Because we'll have your back."

"Oh, sure," I scoffed. "You want me to believe you'd help me out of the kindness of your heart?"

"Not kindness," he said smoothly, stepping closer. "Call it mutual benefit."

I shoved him back. "Mutual, huh? What makes you think you know what I want?"

"I don't," he admitted with a shrug. "But I know it's something tied to our cause."

"How self-centered," I muttered, rolling my eyes.

"Fine, then think of it as repayment—for your services."

"I'm not thinking about it at all," I snapped, turning on my heel and heading for the door. I paused when I realized it required a code.

"Would someone kindly open the door?" I asked, annoyance dripping from my words.

The woman smirked and punched in the code, and the door swung open.

"Have a good night," she said sweetly.

I didn't respond, marching out into the empty storefront. So, this was their hideout? Right under everyone's noses.

Once outside, I pulled out my phone and opened Nudle Maps. Blume HQ wasn't close by—walking's not ideal at this hour. With a groan, I managed to hail a cab. The ride was long and far from cheap, but I finally made it back to the company lot to pick up my car.

As I drove home, my thoughts kept circling back to the encounter. One wrong move and I'd be screwed. I needed to pick a side, and fast. No grey area. I'd have to choose the one that offered me more to gain—or at least, less to lose.

When I finally got home, it was nearly 12:30 a.m. I tossed my keys on the counter and collapsed onto the couch, my head swimming. Eventually, exhaustion won out, and I slipped into a restless sleep, still turning it all over in my mind.