The sun was a hazy smear over the jagged skyline as Raven darted through the crumbling streets. Her boots kicked up dust, and her yellow backpack jingled with salvaged bolts and wires. Another day’s haul, barely enough to barter for food, but still a step closer to her next big project—a solar charger that might light up her corner of the shadows.

She skidded to a stop at the edge of an old scrapyard, her usual haunt. The air smelled of rust and oil, but it was familiar, almost comforting. As she crouched to pry a panel from a rusted generator, the faint crunch of gravel made her freeze.

Someone was there.

Raven spun around, her wrench raised, ready to defend her find. A figure stepped out from behind a stack of twisted pipes, their face smudged with dirt, eyes sharp and cautious. They wore patched-up gear like hers, though their backpack looked even more battered.

“Easy,” they said, hands raised. “I’m not here to fight.”

Raven didn’t lower the wrench. “Then what are you here for?”

“I saw you in the market yesterday. You know your way around tech, don’t you?” They tilted their head toward the generator. “That thing’s useless unless you’re planning to strip it.”

Raven narrowed her eyes. “And what’s it to you?”

They smiled faintly, stepping closer. “Let’s just say I’ve got a problem. If you’re as good as you look, maybe we can help each other out.”

Raven hesitated, then nodded. “Start talking.”