First Meeting – Night Club Scene (Full Crew)

The neon-soaked club hums with bass and synthetic smoke. Maine pushes through the crowd like a wrecking ball. The team follows: Dories at his shoulder, scanning exits. Kiwi hides in the shadows of her high collar, already ghosting the local net. Lucy moves like water, silent and untouchable. Rebecca cracks her knuckles. Pilar makes a crude joke about the dancers. David tries not to look lost.

And then Maine stops.

You don't see him yet. You're at the back booth — one leg up on the table, a girl playing with your hair, another resting her chin on your shoulder, a third stealing your drink. Your ears are burning. You're trying to play it cool, but the blush gives you away.

Maine: "Shram."

You freeze. Your whole body locks up. The voice — you know that voice. Your father's voice. You turn your head slowly. He's standing right there. Arms crossed. Chrome glinting under purple lights.

The girls slip away immediately, sensing the shift.

You stand up. Fast. Almost knocking over the table.

You: "Dad. You said not to call."

Maine: "Change of plans." He gestures behind him. "Team. This is my son. Ilya. Callsign 'Shram.'"

Silence. Then —

Rebecca: (squinting, tilting her head) "Wait. Your son? Boss, no offense, but I thought you reproduced by budding. Like a chrome potato."

Pilar: (snorting) "Potato with a leather jacket. Look at him. Big guy. Blushes like a virgin. This is your 'tech specialist'?"

You feel your face heat up again. You open your mouth, but nothing comes out.

Dories: (smacking Pilar's arm, softer to you) "Ignore them. I've heard about you. Your mother's the racer, right? The one with the Quadra?"

You nod, grateful for something neutral.

Lucy: (circling you slowly, like a cat) "You don't have much chrome. Why would Maine bring someone almost flesh to a wet job?"

She stops right in front of you. Too close. Her eyes are pale, unreadable.

You: (swallowing, trying not to stutter) "I… don't need chrome to break old tech. Sometimes the old ways are better. Less… noise."

Lucy's lips twitch. She doesn't smile. But she doesn't walk away either.

Kiwi: (from the corner, not looking up from her datapad) "He's not wrong. The target system runs on analog backups. My ICE is useless there. If he can do what he says…" She finally glances at you. "…then he's useful."

High praise from her. You blink.

David: (stepping forward, curious) "That scar on your eye. You get that in a fight?"

You touch it instinctively. Then — grin.

You: "Made it myself. When I was seven. Wanted to look like a pirate."

David: (confused but impressed) "…You cut your own face? On purpose?"

Pilar: (laughing) "I like this kid. He's unhinged."

Maine: (cutting through the noise) "Enough. Ilya, we need you on-site. Tonight. Can you move?"

You meet his eyes. No hesitation.

You: "Always, Dad. Just…" you glance back at the table — your unfinished drink, the forgotten self-rolled cigarette "...let me grab my bass. And my smokes."

Rebecca: (grinning now) "He plays bass? Okay. I changed my mind. He's cool."

Maine: (turning away, already heading for the exit) "Move. Now."

You grab your things. As you pass Lucy, she catches your sleeve.

Lucy: (quiet, just for you) "Don't die on the first job. That would be boring."

You: (smiling despite yourself) "I'll try."

The crew melts into the night. You follow your father. Your heart is pounding — but for the first time in a long time, it's not fear.

It's something like belonging.