Sector 8, one of the few places Victoria's influence hadn't reached yet, which made it neutral ground for the hardheads who still missed the old, darker freedom of the Underground.
In a bar wedged between a shuttered convenience store and a half-dead electronics shop, the noise from outside seemed to stop right at the door, like it marked the border between the old world and the new one.
Roam had gotten there first. Like always these days. He liked having a little time before the others showed up, before they all went back to looking at him like he was just a piece of furniture with a captain's armband.
He turned his glass between his fingers without really drinking, eyes fixed on the table.
Three days.
Three days without a message from Saya. Without a call. He'd reread their last exchanges like ten times, looking for something that would explain the silence.
