A girl in a patched-up flight suit leaned against the machine, flipping a copper coin. "You look like you're sucking wind, spacer," she said, her voice muffled by her own mask.
"Follow the sign to the basement of the old hardware store," she whispered. "Tell 'em 'The Painter' sent you. And bring trade-chips—they don't take credit in the clean-air zones."
"I need a 6000 series," Elias wheezed. "Industrial grade. Pre-Collapse."
Elias nodded, his lungs burning, and disappeared into the shadows of the stairwell, chasing the promise of a deep breath.
A girl in a patched-up flight suit leaned against the machine, flipping a copper coin. "You look like you're sucking wind, spacer," she said, her voice muffled by her own mask.
"Follow the sign to the basement of the old hardware store," she whispered. "Tell 'em 'The Painter' sent you. And bring trade-chips—they don't take credit in the clean-air zones."
"I need a 6000 series," Elias wheezed. "Industrial grade. Pre-Collapse."
Elias nodded, his lungs burning, and disappeared into the shadows of the stairwell, chasing the promise of a deep breath.
