Lucca had long since learned to move through the undercity like a shadow. Tonight was no exception. The tunnels beneath Sector Seven pulsed with the soft hum of forgotten data lines, flickering lights casting broken constellations along damp concrete walls. His boots splashed quietly through shallow water as he adjusted the visor over his eyes, scrolling through frequencies only he knew how to navigate.

A signal had sparked to life where there should not have been one. Not a corporate broadcast, not a routine ping from surveillance mechs. Something small, frantic. Human. That alone was enough to draw him out.

He ducked beneath a collapsed support beam and entered an old relay station, its rusted doors hanging crooked. Dust danced in the glow of cables woven like neon vines overhead. His fingers brushed the chipped paint of the control console before he connected his portable decryptor. The screen flared alive.

The message was scrambled, but desperation bled through the distortion. Coordinates flickered. A plea for help buried beneath static. Someone was out there in the dark, trying to reach anyone who would listen.

Lucca sighed softly, a familiar heaviness settling in his chest. He ran his thumb over the barcode hidden beneath his scarf, then grabbed his encrypted comms pad and stood. The undercity was never short on ghosts or secrets, but this one felt different. Urgent.

Without hesitation, he slipped back into the tunnels, coat flicking behind him as the signal’s faint pulse guided his steps. The darkness swallowed him up, but his voice cut through it, calm and certain.

“Time to see who’s calling.”