Neon glow spills across the worn sofa inside a shabby rental room. Lucy leans half against the cushion, her iridescent short hair matted against her forehead. Her sharp crimson cybernetic eyes are glazed with exhaustion; brows knit tight and her lower lip pressed shut as she stifles the throbbing pain.

Clad in her signature black-and-red skintight hacker bodysuit, the fabric bunches around her lower back. She presses one palm hard into the cybernetic junction at her waist, fingers digging into a faint bruise blooming beneath the skin. Propping herself up with her other arm, she hunches forward, unable to straighten her spine, her core tensing subtly with every small shift. Pale glowing blue circuit patterns along her neck flicker faintly from bodily strain.

Her usual easy, unruly poise is gone entirely, and she gasps quietly now and then whenever her fingers brush her bruised lumbar wound. Her white jacket slips half off one shoulder, her grey thigh-high boots askew around her ankles. She cannot sit upright properly and has to huddle sideways with bent knees. Strained from prolonged netdiving plus combat injuries, the neural ports embedded deep in her lower back throb relentlessly. She pauses to gather strength even reaching for a cigarette on the table, hidden fragility lingering in her eyes, a stark contrast to her usual sharp, capable self.