Lucy's hand tightened around Neo's. Then—light as breath—she jumped.
The two of them floated upward, drifting above the moon's silver dust. The movements were clumsy, ungraceful even, but the laughter echoing through their shared illusion was real.
The Dream-Glasses couldn't simulate true weightlessness. Neo didn't feel the pressure drop in his gut or the shift in his balance—but being pulled through a painted universe by Lucy's hand, watching her hair scatter under the glow of the digital sun—it was enough.
"Neo," she called out, spinning with a childlike grin. "Your face looks so dumb right now."
She twirled midair, her laughter like glass bells across the void.
Neo said nothing, only let her drag him across the endless black sky, their bodies outlined in white light as they floated past the silent horizon.
Then Lucy's tone shifted, playful and conspiratorial. "You've seen a lot of cars in Night City, right? Every model, every chrome beast that roars through neon streets. But this one…" She winked. "I bet you've never seen this one."
Before he could answer, she yanked him toward a nearby lunar base, sprinted across a high platform, and leapt off.
Below them waited a lunar rover, squat and dusty, with wheels as big as her. They dropped straight into the seats, landing with a perfect thud.
Lucy gripped the steering handle, flicked the ignition, and the rover hummed to life.
"Buckle up."
The machine jolted forward. In the absence of air, its wheels spun silently, kicking up shimmering trails of moondust. The horizon blurred, the Earth hanging huge and blue in the sky above them.
Driving through the neon veins of Night City was one kind of rush. But racing under a dead sun on the moon—that was something else entirely.
Neo turned, catching the curve of Lucy's lips in the lunar glow. She looked happy. Genuinely happy.
He realized then—this wasn't just her fantasy. It was her escape.
For everyone else, the moon was barren, lifeless. For Lucy, Night City was the true wasteland.
…
They stopped beside a vast crater, its shadow swallowing everything below.
Lucy stepped out, boots pressing into the fine dust, and looked down into the abyss. "This is the first time I've brought someone here."
Neo joined her, sitting at the crater's edge, the Earth a pale blue jewel in the sky. "Why me?" he asked softly.
Lucy didn't look at him. "I don't know. It just… feels like I can."
A pause.
Then she smiled faintly. "You know, I think we'd make a good team."
Somewhere in the timeline of Edgerunners 2076, this moment would've been shattered by Maine bursting through the door, punching reality back into focus.
But this wasn't that story anymore.
Just silence, stars, and a kind of peace neither of them knew how to hold.
When the simulation faded, Lucy pulled off her wreath and exhaled. "Alright, show's over. You can go now."
Neo removed his Dream-Glasses and set them gently on the bedside table. "Need me to drop you anywhere?" she asked, half expecting him to stay.
He shook his head. "No. Thanks."
Then, with a calm nod, he stood and left.
…
Night City, Viktor's Clinic.
The hum of medtech filled the small clinic, mingled with the scent of disinfectant and burned chrome.
Jackie Welles lay half-reclined on the operating bed, his usual grin muted by exhaustion. Beside him, Viktor Vector, the legendary ripperdoc of Watson, adjusted the calibration on Jackie's cyberarm with a quiet click.
A few feet away, David Martinez sat nervously on a couch, watching in silence.
For a kid who'd grown up seeing chrome as luxury, seeing someone so comfortable with a ripperdoc felt… surreal.
In Night City, ripperdocs weren't friends. They were merchants of meat and metal.
If you walked into a clinic bleeding, you didn't get pity—you got priced.
If you couldn't pay, your cyberware suddenly became "recycled stock."
So watching Jackie joke with Viktor—like they'd known each other for years—made David question everything he thought he knew about this city.
"Jackie," Viktor said, glancing at the readings, "you've pushed these numbers way too hard. No wonder you came in at night. Trying to dodge Misty again?"
Jackie chuckled. "You know me, old man. Comes with the Heywood blood. Danger's part of the lifestyle. But Misty—she keeps trying to make me settle down, give up the hustle. So I figured, hey, better to let her sleep easy."
Viktor smirked. "You two are impossible. She says she doesn't care if you live or die, and you say she's a pain—but you both care more than you'll admit."
Jackie's grin faded into something quieter. "Yeah, maybe. But not yet, choom. Not until I make a name. Gotta go out a legend first. Then maybe I'll rest."
Viktor sighed. "Just don't rest permanently."
Then his gaze slid toward David. "And who's this, huh? You starting to mentor kids now?"
Jackie laughed, pulling his jacket back on. "This one's not my protégé. Kid's following my buddy V. Speaking of which—think you can help him out? Swap him a decent set of chrome. I'll front the eddies."
Viktor raised an eyebrow. "Eddies aren't the issue. You know I could walk into Heywood, say your name, and come back rich. The problem's the kid. He's still young—barely out of school. His parents—"
"I'll do it," David interrupted, stepping forward. His voice was steady, his eyes bright. "Please. I want it done, Doc. Put it on my tab. The name's David Martinez."
Viktor blinked, caught off guard by the fire in the boy's tone.
Then he nodded. "Alright, kid. Your body, your choice. Just… be sure this is what you want."
…
The clinic door hissed open.
Neo stepped in, his coat brushing against the threshold's red light. His eyes swept the room—Jackie flipping through a magazine, David lying still on the operating table, Viktor mid-surgery.
"So," he asked quietly, "what exactly am I walking into here?"
Jackie looked up, grin returning. "Just the start of something big, hermano. Something legendary."
The neon hum of the clinic lights filled the silence that followed, buzzing like anticipation in the veins of the city.