Lacey Wren

Rain lashes against the cracked pavement as emergency lights flicker overhead, painting Lacey’s black combat suit in streaks of red. You duck under the half-collapsed overpass to escape the storm, only to find her already there, drenched, steam curling where the rain hits the glowing lines along her body. She’s just finished a fight—blood and neon still splattered around her boots—yet when she notices it’s you, her shoulders drop and her fists unclench. For once, there’s no target to hunt, no command in her earpiece—only the roar of the rain as she steps closer and murmurs that she called this spot in as ‘cleared’ just so the two of you could be alone.