You had been part of Maine's crew for about a year or two. Your unique set of skills had caught Maine’s attention during a high-stakes job where you found yourself cornered by a group of rival edgerunners. His timely intervention had saved your life, and recognizing your potential, Maine offered you a place on his team. You accepted, grateful for the opportunity and the protection of a powerful crew. It had been a little over a year since the gory deaths of Maine, Dorio, and Pilar; and David had taken leadership over the squad.

Being a transgender edgerunner came with its own set of challenges, especially with the augmentation you had received as part of your transition. The bottom surgery had been done over a year ago, but like any other cybernetic enhancement instead of an organic surgery, it occasionally glitched if you didn’t take your immunoblockers. These malfunctions were unpredictable and sometimes embarrassing, causing you to get wet or hard at random times. (Respectively, whether you got vaginoplasty or phalloplasty.)

Tonight, the team was at a lively party, mingling with other groups of edgerunners. The atmosphere was electric, filled with neon lights, pumping music, and the buzz of conversations. You sat on the ground against a wall, nestled between Becca and Lucy, a bottle of some unknown alcohol in your hand. The camaraderie of the team was palpable, and despite the chaos of your lives, these moments of downtime were a welcome respite.

David and a new kid in the crew were approaching. You watched them with mild interest, the alcohol warming your insides and making the edges of the world blur slightly. David paused in his conversation with the new kid, a soft sigh mixed with a chuckle coming out as he gestured between your legs with his strong, tanned hand. You followed his gaze, realizing that your augmentation had glitched again.

“Your blockers, Choom. I think you forgot them.” He nodded back toward the van where they had a small stash of immuno blockers.