## Chapter 1 — Ordinary Enough Nothing happened that evening. That was important. No call from Rogue. No emergency channel lit up. No impossible object appeared on the kitchen table. Nobody discovered a door where a door had not been yesterday. Night City did what Night City always did outside the Safehouse windows: traffic snarled somewhere below, advertisements bled color across wet concrete, distant sirens argued with engines and eventually lost. Inside, Brenda was losing an argument with a cupboard. “I put it there yesterday.” Mai did not look up from her datapad. “You put six things there yesterday.” “Yes. One of them was the thing I need.” “That does narrow the search considerably.” Brenda stared at her. “That was sarcasm.” “Yes.” “You’re getting worse.” “Better,” Ace corrected from the couch. Brenda turned. Ace had somehow folded herself into one corner beneath a blanket while still managing to occupy enough space to make the entire couch feel claimed. “That depends which side you’re on.” “My side.” “Obviously.” Iris leaned against the kitchen counter with a mug in one hand. “Try the drawer you were specifically told not to use.” Brenda went very still. Mai looked up. Ace lowered the blanket just enough to expose her eyes. Shammy, sitting on the floor near the window, smiled before Brenda even moved. Brenda opened the forbidden drawer. “There it is.” Mai closed her eyes. Iris took a drink. Ace pointed from beneath the blanket. “Crime solved.” “It was temporary storage.” “You’ve been saying that for three weeks,” Iris said. “It has remained temporary for the entire period.” “That is not how temporary works.” “Philosophically—” “No,” Mai said. Brenda sighed and retrieved whatever piece of harmless mechanical nonsense had caused the crisis. Safehouse returned to normal. That was the entire evening. Food happened. Someone—Marco, judging by the container—had left enough noodles for an emergency. Kiro sent Mai a message complaining about a client who had somehow managed to corrupt the same system in three mutually incompatible ways. Reyes sent Ace a photograph of a vending machine with a handwritten sign reading OUT OF ORDER AGAIN, followed by: **thought of you** Ace replied: **fuck you** Three seconds later: **fair** Panam sent Shammy a voice message containing wind noise, an engine, and one sentence about Dakota threatening to ban somebody from touching a fuel injector ever again. Shammy listened twice. Smiled both times. Nothing happened. Later, Brenda and Iris disappeared toward their room after an argument about whether a screwdriver counted as acceptable bedside furniture. Mai finally confiscated her own datapad from herself. Ace noticed. “Growth.” Mai looked at her. “I set it down.” “Historic.” “You are under a blanket shaped like a defensive position.” “It’s working.” Shammy had moved from the floor to the couch sometime during the exchange, long legs folded with the careful geometry required to share furniture with Ace. Mai crossed the room. Ace immediately lifted one side of the blanket. No invitation spoken. None needed. Mai sat. Ace leaned into her before pretending that had not been the point. Shammy shifted closer from the other side until the three of them settled into the familiar shape their bodies had learned long ago. Not symmetrical. Not elegant. Home. For a while they watched something terrible on the wall display. Ace objected to the plot. Mai objected to the physics. Shammy liked the rain in one scene. Eventually the show ended. Nobody bothered starting another. The Safehouse grew quieter around them. Brenda laughed once behind a closed door. Water ran somewhere in the plumbing. A vehicle passed below with bass heavy enough to vibrate the window. Ace yawned. Mai looked down at her. “No.” Ace frowned. “What?” “You were about to deny being tired.” “I wasn’t.” “You inhaled defensively.” “That’s not a thing.” “It is with you.” Shammy looked over. “You are tired.” “Betrayal.” “Yes.” Ace threatened both of them vaguely. Neither took it seriously. The three moved toward bed without ceremony. Weapons where they belonged. Lights lowered. Doors checked because Ace checked doors. One final glance toward the main room because Mai noticed patterns even when nothing needed noticing. Shammy paused at the window for half a second, feeling whatever she felt in weather and pressure and the breathing shape of the city. Normal. She joined them. Ace ended up between Mai and Shammy. Not planned. Usually not planned. Mai’s hand settled against her side. Shammy’s warmth collected along her back. Ace stared into the dark for maybe thirty seconds. The room was safe. Her people were safe. Nothing was wrong. Ace slept. --- ## Chapter 2 — The Chair Ace opened her eyes. She was sitting upright. Her first thought was wrong room. Her second was restraints. Wrists. Forearms. Chest. Ankles. Ace did not panic. Not immediately. She tested the left wrist first. No slack. Right. Same. She rotated both hands as far as the restraints allowed, feeling for edges, seams, catches, anything that might tell her whether the material was fabric, polymer, wire, something smart enough to react to pressure. Nothing. She shifted her hips. The chair did not move. Ace looked down. Plain chair. Four legs. Dark floor. No obvious anchoring. She drove both feet against the ground and threw her weight sideways. Nothing happened. The chair remained upright. Ace stopped. Listened. No traffic. No ventilation. No electrical hum. No people. The room had walls but no useful detail. Gray. Maybe concrete. Maybe not. A ceiling existed because darkness ended above her. No door. No windows. Ace breathed once through her nose. Again. Then pulled. Not testing now. Hard. Her shoulders locked. Muscles tightened down both arms. The restraints did not shift. Ace twisted one wrist until pain should have arrived. It did not. That was wrong. She stopped again. Looked down at herself. No injuries. No blood. No soreness. Clothing intact. Everything exactly where it should be. Ace frowned. “Mai?” Nothing. “Shammy?” The room gave her own voice back without echo. That was worse. Ace tried the Shadow Aura. Not like flipping a switch. It had never worked like that. She reached for the pressure inside herself instead, the familiar place where anger, threat, instinct and impossible darkness touched. The room dimmed. Good. A shadow behind the chair stretched too far. Better. Ace pushed. Darkness climbed one wall. A second shadow appeared where no object stood. The air thickened. And the restraints remained exactly where they were. Ace stared at them. “No.” She pulled again. Harder. The Shadow Aura moved with her. Corners deepened. The floor beneath the chair seemed to drop away without actually changing level. Nothing touched the restraints. Nothing touched the chair. Ace braced both feet again and launched every kilogram she had sideways. The chair did not tip. She tried forward. Backward. Twisted. Kicked. Drove both knees apart against the ankle restraints. Nothing. No damage. No movement. No answer. Her breathing changed. Not fear yet. Anger. Anger was useful. Anger moved. Ace had survived locked rooms before. Cells. Containment. Structures that rewrote distance. Places that lied. Machines that decided human motion was optional. There was always something. A seam. A mistake. A person. A timing window. Something. Ace went through everything again. Slowly. Then faster. Then brutally. Her wrist should have been bleeding. It was not. Her shoulder should have hurt. It did not. Her pulse should have been hammering hard enough to ache in her throat. She could feel it, but distant. Muted. As if the room allowed only the parts of her body it found convenient. A thought arrived. Not spoken. Not heard. Just there. **Nothing’s wrong with me.** Ace froze. The sentence felt disgusting. She looked down at herself again. Unhurt. Strong. Awake. Fine. The room was empty. Nobody had touched Mai. Nobody had touched Shammy. Nobody was here. There was no immediate threat. Nothing wrong. Ace pulled against the restraints until the tendons stood out in her arms. The chair did not move. The room waited. --- ## Chapter 3 — Pressure Time failed first. Ace could not tell whether she had been in the chair for five minutes or five hours. She counted breaths. Lost count. Started again. Stopped because counting did not produce anything useful. The room did not change. Ace did. Anger became calculation. Calculation became anger again. She tried controlling the Shadow Aura differently. Not force. Shape. Darkness slid along the floor. She narrowed it toward one restraint. Nothing. A humanoid edge formed near her right shoulder, incomplete and wrong, a silhouette with no body except pressure. Ace drove it toward the chair. It broke apart before contact. She stared. Again. The shadow formed. Reached. Collapsed. “No.” Again. Nothing. Ace bent forward as far as the chest restraint allowed and examined the bindings. No buckle. No seam. No knot. No technology. Not even a clear place where restraint ended and itself began. She bit at the wrist binding. Her teeth passed over something that felt real without producing texture. Ace jerked back. “Fuck you.” The room remained unimpressed. She pulled until her arms shook. Still no pain. That frightened her more than pain would have. Pain meant body. Pain meant consequence. Pain meant she had done something. This was effort without result. Action without effect. Ace stopped breathing for a few seconds. Deliberately. The room allowed that too. She exhaled sharply. “Come on.” Nothing. She looked around again. There had to be a door. There was not. A weak spot. There was not. Someone watching. Maybe. “Come out.” Nothing. “Do something.” Nothing. The pressure inside Ace rose. The Shadow Aura expanded violently. The walls darkened. Her own shadow split into three directions. The ceiling seemed suddenly lower. Something like black fingers pushed between cracks that had not existed a second earlier. Ace threw herself sideways again. Nothing. Forward. Nothing. She snarled and drove both feet against the floor. The chair stayed. The room distorted around it. It could distort. The chair could not move. Ace understood then. Not logically. Dream logic did not need logic. The knowledge simply arrived whole. The room could break. She could break. The darkness could tear itself apart. But the chair would stay. A second thought came. Cold. Certain. **Something’s gotta give.** Ace bared her teeth. “Fine.” She pulled harder. The wall to her left cracked. Not from impact. From pressure. A line appeared from floor to ceiling. Ace saw it. Focused on it. Good. There. Something. She pulled again. The crack widened. Darkness leaked through. Ace drove the Aura toward it. The wall bowed inward. Good. Again. The entire left side of the room shuddered. Ace almost laughed. There you are. Again— Something fell through the darkness. Not debris. A body. It hit the floor hard enough that Ace heard the impact. The wall became whole again. Ace stopped moving. For half a second she could not understand what she was seeing. Then the shape rolled just enough for copper-red hair to spill across the floor. No. Wrong color. Not copper. Silver. Mai’s hair. Mai lay on her side five meters away. Ace’s entire body went cold. “Mai?” No movement. “Mai.” Nothing. Ace pulled once. Hard enough that the room flickered. “Mai!” No answer. Calculation disappeared. --- ## Chapter 4 — Mai Ace tried to stand. Her body did exactly what a restrained body did. Nothing. She threw herself forward. The chest binding caught her. “Mai!” No response. Mai lay on the floor facing partly away from her. No blood. No visible wound. One arm beneath her. The other stretched loosely across the dark surface. Too still. Ace pulled. The restraints did not move. “Mai, get up.” Nothing. Ace knew this. She knew bodies. She knew unconsciousness. She knew how people fell when they were stunned, concussed, exhausted, bleeding, dead. But she could not see enough. Could not reach. Could not touch her throat. Could not feel breath. Could not check pupils. Could not roll her over. Could not do the first basic fucking thing. “Mai.” Ace’s voice changed. She heard it. Hated it. “Mai, answer me.” Nothing. The Shadow Aura exploded across the floor. It raced toward Mai. For one impossible second Ace thought— The darkness stopped twenty centimeters from Mai’s hand. A perfect boundary. Ace stared. “No.” The Aura pressed harder. It flattened against nothing. “No.” The room darkened around them. The pressure became enough that ordinary glass would have cracked. There was no glass. No door. No anything. The darkness could not cross the final twenty centimeters. Ace screamed at it. Not words. Just sound. The Shadow Aura buckled. Mai remained still. Ace twisted her wrists. Pulled. Kicked. Threw her weight. Again. Again. Again. Nothing. Then— Mai’s fingers moved. Ace froze. One finger. Barely. A twitch against the floor. “Mai?” Another movement. Small. Weak. Alive. Ace inhaled so fast it hurt. “Mai. Mai, stay there.” Stupid. Of course stay there. “Look at me.” Mai did not. Her fingers moved again. Ace leaned forward against the chest restraint until it cut across her ribs without pain. “I’m coming.” The lie left her before she could stop it. “I’m coming, just—” She pulled. Nothing. “Come on!” Nothing. Mai’s hand shifted. Maybe trying to push. Maybe reaching. Ace could not tell. “Mai!” Her voice broke. That made her furious. She pulled harder. The wall shook. The floor rippled. The Shadow Aura slammed against the invisible boundary again and again. Nothing reached Mai. Her fingers stopped moving. Ace stared. “No.” Silence. “Mai.” Nothing. “No.” Ace pulled again. “Mai.” Nothing. “Move.” Nothing. “Move!” Something struck the floor behind Mai. Ace flinched. Another body. Tall. Long pale hair spreading across dark ground. Shammy. Ace made a sound she would never remember making. --- ## Chapter 5 — Bodies Shammy did not move. Ace forgot the restraints for one second. Just one. Her mind rejected the image so completely that movement should have happened by sheer refusal. She should have been across the room. She should have been on her knees beside them. Mai first. Airway. Pulse. Then Shammy. Check breathing. Call someone. Do something. Instead Ace remained in the chair. “Shammy.” Nothing. “Shammy!” The air around Ace went black. Not dark. Black. The Shadow Aura stopped resembling shadow at all and became pressure given shape, filling the corners, crawling across the ceiling, writhing behind her like something trapped in the same restraints. It reached. Stopped. Could not touch either of them. Ace looked from Mai to Shammy. “No.” A third impact. Behind Shammy. Red hair. Reyes. Ace’s breath hitched. “No.” Another. Kiro. The graphite-brown cover color was gone. Her real hair. Her face turned slightly toward Ace. Eyes closed. “No. No, no.” Another. Brenda. Too still. Another. Iris beside her. Another. Panam. Ace pulled against the restraints until her shoulders shook uncontrollably. “Stop.” The room did not. Marco. Lena. One after another. Not piled. Not theatrical. Just there. Spaced across the floor as though the room had placed each person carefully enough that Ace could recognize every face. Nobody bled. Nobody moved. Nobody answered. The horror was clean. Perfect. Ace looked down at herself. Her body remained untouched. No wound. No bruise. Not even raw skin where the restraints should have torn her. Fine. Absolutely fine. Everyone else lay on the floor. The thought returned. Not words this time. Meaning. There is nothing wrong with you. Ace’s face twisted. “Fuck you.” She ripped at the bindings. The room shook. “You want something?” Nothing. “Take me!” Nothing. Her voice disappeared into the pressure. “Take me!” Ace tried to break her own wrist. She knew the angle. Knew exactly how much force. If the restraint would not open, bone would. She twisted. Nothing. No pain. No break. Even that was denied. Ace screamed. “Take me instead!” The bodies stayed still. There was no enemy to bargain with. That was the worst part. Nobody stood over her. Nobody demanded anything. No villain explained the rules. No machine offered a choice. No ritual waited for sacrifice. Ace would have paid. Anything. The room did not want payment. It wanted her awake. Whole. Watching. She looked at Mai. Still. Shammy. Still. Reyes. Kiro. Brenda. Iris. Panam. Marco. Lena. Her people. The room had discovered the only injury Ace could not put on her own body. She strained forward until the chair creaked. At last. A sound. Ace froze. The chair had moved. No. Not moved. Creaked. Something. Something could give. Ace braced both feet. Pulled every muscle tight. The Shadow Aura gathered around her until the room vanished behind it. Again. The chair creaked louder. “Yes.” Again. A restraint shifted. Maybe. Ace did not care whether it was real. She pulled. “Come on.” Another creak. She looked at Mai. “Come on.” Mai’s hand twitched. Ace saw it. “MAI.” Another tiny movement. Shammy’s chest— Did it move? Ace could not tell. She pulled harder. The chair shook. For the first time, actually shook. “Come on!” Something was giving. Finally. Finally. The restraint across Ace’s chest loosened by less than a centimeter. Enough. She could get out. She could reach them. She could— Mai’s fingers stopped. Shammy remained still. Ace pulled once more with everything she had. The chair gave a sharp cracking sound. Ace woke. --- ## Chapter 6 — Mai Mai was warm. That was the first real thing. Ace did not know she had moved until both arms were around her. She had turned hard enough to nearly climb across the mattress, grabbing Mai at shoulder and waist and pulling her close with frantic strength. Mai woke badly. A small confused sound. Then tension. “Ace?” Ace buried her face against her. Breathing. Mai was breathing. Warm. Moving. Alive. “Ace?” Mai’s voice still carried sleep. One hand came up slowly and touched the back of Ace’s head. “What happened?” Ace could not answer. She tightened her arms. Mai’s confusion sharpened. Not alarm yet. Recognition. Ace did not hold people like this. Not because she lacked affection. Because this was not affection. This was survival. Mai shifted enough to get one arm properly around her. “Ace.” Still nothing. Ace heard Mai’s heartbeat. Too fast now because she was waking. Good. Fast was good. Alive. Ace opened her eyes. Dark room. Safehouse. Bed. Real. Mai. Her gaze jumped past Mai’s shoulder. Wrong side. She turned. “Shammy.” The word came out raw. Mai moved immediately. No question. No hesitation. Shammy was already stirring from the sudden motion. “What…?” Ace reached for her. Shammy blinked in the dark, barely awake. Then Ace caught her wrist and pulled. Not gracefully. Not carefully. Shammy came closer at once. “Ace?” Mai helped without being asked, one arm still around Ace while the other guided Shammy into the collapsing shape of all three of them. Ace grabbed Shammy too. Now both. She could not get close enough. Mai against her front. Shammy against her side and back. Ace locked one arm around each of them and held on. Shammy’s hand rested uncertainly between Ace’s shoulder blades. She was still mostly asleep. “What happened?” Same question. Ace shut her eyes. Mai breathed against her temple. Shammy’s body shifted with another slow breath. Two rhythms. Two living bodies. Ace counted neither. She just felt them. The Shadow Aura had followed her awake. Darkness crowded too heavily beneath the bed. One wall looked farther away than it was. The corner near the door had become almost depthless. Mai noticed. Shammy felt it. Neither commented. Mai only held Ace more firmly. Shammy moved closer. The pressure in the room began to fall. Slowly. Reluctantly. Ace breathed in. Mai. Out. Shammy. Again. Her grip did not loosen. Minutes passed. Maybe. Nobody checked. Finally Mai whispered: “Nightmare?” Ace nodded against her. The motion barely existed. Mai waited. Shammy waited. Ace swallowed. “You were on the floor.” Mai went completely still. Ace’s fingers tightened in the fabric at her back. “Both of you.” Shammy’s hand moved once along Ace’s spine. Not soothing deliberately. Just there. Ace opened her eyes. “I couldn’t get to you.” That was all. Mai understood. Shammy did too. Nobody told Ace it was only a dream. Nobody told her they were fine. They simply stayed where she could feel the truth herself. --- ## Chapter 7 — Shammy Ace did not let go. Eventually Mai shifted because one arm had gone numb. Ace tightened instantly. Mai stopped. “I’m not leaving.” Ace’s eyes opened. Mai could barely see them in the dark. “I know.” But her grip said otherwise. Mai adjusted more slowly this time. Not away. Around. She changed position until Ace could keep contact without cutting off circulation. Shammy moved with her, still heavy with sleep. The three became a tangle of limbs and blankets and too much warmth. Nobody complained. Shammy rested her forehead lightly against the back of Ace’s head. The room had nearly returned to normal. Nearly. Shadows still lay too deep in places. The air held faint pressure. Shammy breathed it in. Not foreign. Not external. Ace. Only Ace. That mattered. “There was no weather,” Shammy murmured. Mai looked at her over Ace. Ace did too. Shammy searched for the right words through sleep. “No outside pressure.” Ace stared. Mai understood what she was saying. Nothing had arrived. Nothing had entered. No resonance. No intrusion. No presence. Mai’s hand moved slowly along Ace’s arm. “Nothing here either.” Ace frowned. Old reflex. The part of her that would rather hunt an attacker than admit fear. Mai saw it. “No signal,” she said quietly. “No system activity. No alert. Nothing unusual before you woke.” Ace’s jaw tightened. Shammy closed her eyes again. “Just you.” Ace almost recoiled from the words. Shammy felt that too. “Not bad,” she added. Ace looked back at her. Shammy opened one eye. “Just yours.” Ace exhaled. The room settled another fraction. Mai did not turn the moment into analysis. That would come later if it came at all. Instead she asked one practical question. “Do you want the light?” “No.” Immediate. “Door open?” Ace thought. “No.” “Water?” Pause. “…later.” Mai nodded. Shammy’s arm remained draped around Ace’s middle. Ace glanced at her. “You’re half asleep.” “Yes.” “You can sleep.” “Yes.” Shammy made no attempt to move. Ace stared at her. “You’re impossible.” “Yes.” Mai’s mouth twitched against Ace’s hair. Good. Tiny. Normal. Ace felt it. The first piece of ordinary life to return. She closed her eyes. The bodies were still there behind them. Not real. Memory-image. Mai on the floor. Shammy on the floor. Reyes. Kiro. Everyone. Ace opened her eyes again. Mai felt it immediately. “Still here.” Ace swallowed. Shammy, without opening her eyes: “Also here.” Ace made a small sound. Almost laugh. Not quite. But enough. She held both of them. Not as hard now. Still hard enough. Eventually Mai’s breathing slowed. Shammy’s had barely changed. Ace stayed awake longer. She did not watch the door. Did not check the ceiling. Did not listen for danger. She listened to breathing. When she finally slept again, one hand remained closed in Mai’s shirt. The other rested against Shammy’s wrist. Neither moved away. --- ## Chapter 8 — Just a Nightmare Morning arrived without permission. Ace hated it. Light found the edge of the curtain and pushed a pale line across the room. Somewhere outside, a delivery vehicle reversed with an obnoxious warning tone. Safehouse plumbing complained. Normal sounds. Ace woke before Mai. For one second she did not move. Then memory hit. Chair. Floor. Bodies. Her hand tightened around fabric. Mai grunted. Still there. Ace looked over her shoulder. Shammy. Still there. Ace breathed. Fine. No. Not fine. But here. She carefully loosened her grip. Shammy opened her eyes. “You are trying to escape quietly.” Ace frowned. “I’m getting coffee.” “That is what escape looks like before coffee.” Mai’s voice came muffled from the pillow. “She’s right.” Ace stared at both of them. “Traitors.” Mai opened one eye. “Better.” Ace knew what she meant. The fact that she could insult them again. “Don’t start.” Mai sat up slowly. Nobody asked about the nightmare immediately. That helped. They dressed. Moved into the main room. Safehouse morning existed. A closed door suggested Brenda and Iris were not yet interested in participating. Good. Ace made coffee. Mai watched without obviously watching. Shammy sat near the window. Ace finally broke first. “No anomaly.” Mai leaned against the counter. “No.” “Nothing in the systems.” “No.” Ace looked at Shammy. Shammy shook her head. “No outside pressure.” Ace took a drink. Too hot. Did not care. “So my brain’s an asshole.” Mai considered. “Technically—” Ace pointed. “No.” Mai stopped. Shammy looked thoughtful. “Brains make bad rooms.” Ace snorted. “That may be the most accurate thing anybody says today.” Silence settled. Not heavy. Ace stared into her coffee. Mai waited long enough. Then: “Who else?” Ace’s grip tightened on the mug. She knew exactly what Mai meant. “Reyes.” Mai nodded once. “Kiro.” Another nod. “Brenda. Iris. Panam. Marco. Lena.” Shammy’s expression changed with each name. Not surprise. Understanding the architecture. Ace looked toward Brenda’s closed door. “Everyone.” Mai’s voice was quiet. “And you?” “Fine.” The word tasted wrong. Ace looked away. “Completely fine.” Mai did not miss it. Neither did Shammy. Ace’s jaw tightened. “That was the point.” Mai said nothing. Ace continued because now that the words had started, stopping them was harder. “I couldn’t even hurt myself.” Shammy looked at her. Ace stared at the table. “Couldn’t break a wrist. Couldn’t tip the chair. Couldn’t make the Aura reach them. Nothing.” Mai’s face went still. Ace laughed once without humor. “Apparently my subconscious has production values.” “Ace.” “I know.” “No.” Mai stepped closer. “I mean you do not need to make it smaller because it was a dream.” Ace looked up. Mai did not touch her yet. Let Ace choose. Ace looked at her for a second. Then leaned forward until her forehead rested against Mai’s chest. Mai’s arms came around her. No speech. Shammy joined them a moment later. Not panic this time. Choice. Ace stood between them. Alive. Embarrassed. Tired. Still angry at a room that never existed. Eventually she muttered: “This is ridiculous.” Mai’s hand moved once through her hair. “Yes.” Ace leaned back enough to glare. Mai’s mouth twitched. “You wanted agreement.” “Not like that.” Shammy smiled. The pressure broke. Not completely. Enough. --- ## Chapter 9 — Still Here Brenda emerged twenty minutes later wearing one sock. Ace stared at her. Brenda stopped. “What?” “You’re missing something.” Brenda looked down. “Oh.” Iris appeared behind her, fully dressed and holding the missing sock. “You left this on my side of the bed.” “That implies territory.” “It implies gravity.” Brenda took the sock. Ace watched her put it on. Alive. Moving. Complaining. Brenda caught the stare. “What?” Ace shook her head. “Nothing.” Brenda narrowed her eyes. “That was suspicious.” Iris looked from Ace to Mai. Mai gave the smallest possible head movement. Not now. Iris accepted it. “Coffee?” Ace pointed toward the machine. Brenda immediately went there. Ordinary. That became the morning. Kiro called Mai about the client from the previous night and spent four minutes explaining why incompetence should require licensing. Ace heard her voice from across the room. Alive. Reyes sent another message. **you surviving breakfast?** Ace stared at it. Then typed: **barely** A reply appeared. **tragic** Ace smiled despite herself. Alive. Panam sent Shammy a picture of a vehicle part covered in enough dust to qualify as geology. Marco messaged the Safehouse group asking whether anyone had eaten the last noodles. Lena replied before anyone else. **Marco, you left three containers.** **THAT WAS THREE CONTAINERS AGO** Ace read the exchange over Shammy’s shoulder. Alive. Everywhere. Stupidly, loudly, inconveniently alive. The dream had arranged them beautifully on the floor. Reality refused arrangement. Brenda argued with Iris over whether toast counted as a complete breakfast. Kiro talked over Mai. Reyes used punctuation as a weapon. Panam insulted somebody off-screen in a voice message. Marco mourned noodles. Lena corrected him. Shammy smiled at weather. Mai stood close enough that Ace could touch her without taking a step. Ace did. Just briefly. Two fingers against Mai’s wrist. Mai looked down. Then at Ace. No comment. A few minutes later Ace passed behind Shammy and put a hand against her back for no functional reason. Shammy leaned into it for half a second. No comment. Brenda noticed both. Of course she did. Her mouth opened. Iris touched one finger to Brenda’s lips. “Not today.” Brenda blinked. Looked at Ace. Something in her expression softened. She nodded. “Nope.” Ace glanced at Iris. Iris sipped coffee. Nobody turned the morning into a meeting. Nobody asked Ace to share. Nobody gathered around her. The Safehouse simply continued being inhabited. Ace found herself staring through the window. Night City moved below. People crossing streets. Vehicles changing lanes badly. Someone running for a bus. Nobody lay still. Mai appeared beside her. Ace spoke without looking over. “I hated that chair.” Mai nodded. “Understandable.” “I’m serious.” “I know.” Ace glanced at her. Mai’s face remained straight. Ace elbowed her lightly. Mai accepted the impact. Behind them Brenda said something obscene about toast. Iris answered with surgical precision. Shammy laughed. Ace closed her eyes for one second. Not to escape. To listen. Still here. --- ## Chapter 10 — Nothing’s Wrong By evening the nightmare had become smaller. Not gone. Smaller. Ace could still find it instantly if she looked. Mai’s hand on the floor. Shammy’s hair spread across darkness. Reyes too still. Kiro silent. Brenda. Iris. Panam. Marco. Lena. The chair. That remained the worst part. Not death. Not really. Ace understood death. She hated it. Feared it. Had caused it. Had survived too close to it. But death was something that happened in a world where people could still move. The chair had taken movement away. Choice. Timing. The one thing Ace had built her entire survival around. See the problem. Move. Do something. End hesitation. The nightmare had stripped all of that away and left her conscious enough to watch the cost land on everyone else. Ace sat on the couch after dinner with one leg tucked beneath her. Mai occupied the other end with a datapad she was pretending not to work on. Shammy sat on the floor, back against the couch, looking through some pictures Panam had sent. Brenda and Iris had gone out. Reyes was somewhere in Watson. Kiro had finally stopped complaining about her client, probably because the client had either learned or died. Marco and Lena were arguing in the group channel about noodles again. Nothing important was happening. Ace reached down. Touched Shammy’s shoulder. Shammy glanced up. Ace left her hand there. Mai looked over. Ace shifted until her leg touched Mai’s. Mai returned to the datapad. No one said anything. The city glowed through the windows. A siren passed. Someone shouted in the street. The refrigerator cycled on. Shammy scrolled to another picture. Mai turned a page. Ace sat between ordinary sounds and ordinary people and let the room stay exactly what it was. No hidden signal. No watcher. No cosmic joke. No message waiting to be decoded. Just a bad dream. Ace could live with that. She looked at Mai. Alive. Down at Shammy. Alive. Her shard buzzed. Reyes. **still alive over there?** Ace stared at the message. Then smiled. **annoyingly** Reyes replied almost immediately. **good** Ace set the shard down. Mai’s knee pressed lightly against hers. Shammy leaned back a little harder into Ace’s hand. The room remained imperfect. Lived in. Warm. Nobody fell. And if Ace wanted to reach them— she could.