INT. BRASSO’S BLACK MARKET SHOP – CENTRAL CITY – NIGHT
73Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡy9DBXXqSci
[We pick up right where we left off. Brasso’s place is packed with questionable goods: replacement memory drives, eyeball scanners, questionable coolant "energy drinks," and—yes—a suspicious number of Vision Tech coffee mugs.]
73Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbgclTFCDeD
[Jason stands in the middle of the chaos, arms crossed. His right hand hums softly, like it’s bored.]
73Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMcbNftfJwe
BRASSO (LABOR BOT)
(grinning)
“You sure you don’t wanna trade that arm, Gearman? I got bots lining up for pre-war tech like that.”
73Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVbvnler16D
JASON
(not looking at him)
“My arm has better social skills than you. And it doesn’t smell like engine grease.”
73Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZyswzy57uy
[Brasso chuckles, walking behind the counter. Jason’s right hand twitches—then clicks. Plates shift, whirring. The hand transforms into a compact scanning module with a faint blue glow, automatically scanning the room.]
73Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOZU7qS0USC
JASON
(to the arm)
“Cut it out. I don’t need a tactical readout on Brasso’s underwear drawer.”
73Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlfkpwGM3xX
[The module retracts—then snaps into a short blade form for a moment before returning to its standard hand.]
73Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtQnEHdiRgp
BRASSO
“That thing always twitchy, or is it just excited to see me?”
73Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWfRTvdivS0
JASON
“Only twitchy when someone’s lying.”
73Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0EOUJpgqu8
[A beat. Brasso freezes.]
73Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtiXqQ2m9mU
[Before he can respond—BOOM! The building shakes. A blast rips through the back wall. Brasso hits the floor. Jason’s arm transforms mid-motion—fingers collapsing inward as a short-barrel railgun emerges from his wrist.]
73Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8XzxUSrmn1
[The HUD in his vision locks onto two incoming bots—heavily modified Labor units, clearly mob muscle. Painted black, eyes glowing red. Not here for conversation.]
73Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIquvR5M5cd
JASON
(grinning)
“Finally. A therapy session I actually like.”
73Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmBLP5GXk6N
[He fires—a sharp, electric crack. One bot’s head explodes in a shower of sparks. The other lunges at him with a jagged blade arm.]
73Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPdTRZlkn5G
[Jason ducks. His arm morphs again—this time into a whip-like chain of segmented razors. He spins, catches the bot mid-air, and slams it into the ceiling, then the floor. Hard.]
73Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡH8CbKozs6p
[The bot twitches, trying to stand. Jason’s arm resets into an axe. He ends it.]
73Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡw6NNEjksiQ
[Silence. Brasso peeks out from behind the counter.]
73Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡX2aUIim1Mz
BRASSO
“…You could’ve gone easy, y’know.”
73Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlsvG9urlkZ
JASON
(wiping oil from his face)
“They started it.”
73Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLXunr1VIg5
[He walks toward the blast hole, his arm folding back into its sleek normal form—just another limb again.]
73Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXlxHy91eJM
BRASSO
(still nervous)
“Who were they?”
73Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ14AVquD8BC
JASON
“Black market muscle, maybe. But this wasn’t random.”
73Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9UUkWedb2S
[He kneels, inspecting the remains of one bot—finds a tiny embedded chip behind the neck port. Stamped with a barely-visible red triangle.]
73Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGbeujOwBZ3
JASON
“…Vision Tech. Again.”
73Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTEa7pvnpAQ
[He pockets the chip, standing.]
73Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrBAS7rCy9i
JASON
(muttering)
“What the hell’s going on down here?”
73Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJqDxe6mP6j
[From outside the ruined wall, another sound—metal scraping. Not from a bot trying to enter. From something being dragged away. Jason’s optics narrow.]
73Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtFvZdEV7bA
[He steps outside into the night—ready.]
ns216.73.216.3da2
