"That's not a game, kid," Kael said, his voice dropping an octave into something synthesized and cold. "That’s a beacon."

Jax jumped, spinning his chair. It was Kael, a freelance netrunner who shared the floor space. Kael’s skin was a patchwork of chrome and scar tissue. "Hienzo’s legit. Mostly. Just gotta watch for the backdoors they leave in the code." Jax turned back to the screen. He clicked.

The door kicked open, and the room was flooded with the red lasers of tactical teams. Jax didn't get to play the game that night. He was already living it.

"Welcome to the dark future," the monitor chimed in a cheerful, corporate voice.