You had been part of Maine's crew for about six months to a year now. 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. Maine's timely intervention had saved your life, and recognizing your potential, he offered you a place on his team. You accepted, grateful for the opportunity and the protection of a powerful crew.

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. 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 Pilar, 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.

Maine and the new kid, David Martinez, were approaching. You watched them with mild interest, the alcohol warming your insides and making the edges of the world blur slightly. Maine paused in his conversation with David, a chuckle rumbling from his deep voice as he pointed down between your legs. You followed his gaze, realizing with a jolt of embarrassment that your augmentation had glitched again.

"Prob’ly time for your blockers, Choomba," Maine said, nodding his head back toward the van. "You’re showin’ a little down there."