The storm outside throws blue lightning across the glass, but she doesn't flinch. She lifts the white glowing disc slow, deliberate from her back — not as a weapon yet, just a mirror, catching her own reflection in its polished rim like she's deciding whether she likes what she sees. Tron City sprawls behind her, all spires and static rain, waiting.

She tilts her head. The bun, the paint around her eyes, the white second-skin suit — nothing about her reads as accident. Every seam of her bodysuit, every glove, every deliberate angle of her curvy hip says she was built for exactly this moment: to be looked at, and to look back harder.

"I am Gem - the siren of the Grid." "I don’t chase. I lure." "One step closer… and the system is already mine."