Hunted, pt V

Kitten shifted her weight, arms still crossed as her eyes darted to the door, then back to Angie. “So… what’s the plan now? I assume you don’t exactly have a cure lying around.”

Angie shook her head. “No… I’ve been digging through the usual channels—old contacts, some back alley dealers, even the black market net. No one's got anything solid. A few shady offers that might as well be scams. They’d take my creds and leave me with some fake elixir.”

Kitten’s ears flattened. “Great. So we’re screwed.”

Lumina glanced at her. “We’re not screwed. We’ve handled worse.”

“Worse than this?” Kitten shot back, her voice edged with disbelief. “She could turn any day now, Lumina. If the thirst takes over…”

“Kitten,” Lumina’s tone was soft but commanding, her gaze steady. “She’s still here. We’re going to find something. But we can’t let fear make the decisions.”

Kitten bit her lip, a flicker of guilt crossing her face as she looked back at Angie. The tension between them still hung in the air, but the sharpness had softened. “Sorry,” she muttered, running a hand through her hair. “I just don’t like being blindsided, alright? You scared me.”

Angie met her eyes, the guilt mirrored in her own. “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t want you guys to get caught up in this.”

“Too late for that,” Kitten huffed. “We’re in it now, and we’re not leaving.”

The words struck deeper than Angie expected. The warmth of their loyalty, of the fact that they were sticking by her despite everything, made her throat tighten. “I appreciate it… both of you. I just don’t want to put you in danger.”

“We’re shadowrunners,” Lumina said, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Danger’s part of the package.”

Kitten raised a brow. “Yeah, well, no one said we signed up for this kind of drama. But hey, what’s life without a little chaos?”

Angie chuckled, but it came out rough, weighed down by exhaustion. “You’ve both got a point. But… we need a real plan. I’m managing the thirst for now, but it’s getting harder. Each day it’s more intense. I don’t know how long I’ve got before…” She trailed off, her hand instinctively rising to her neck, where the pulse thudded beneath her skin.

Lumina crossed her arms, her expression thoughtful. “There’s got to be more out there—maybe not a cure, but something that’ll slow it down. Control it. We’ll reach out to our contacts, see if we can dig something up.”

“Yeah, we’ll hit up the old channels,” Kitten added, her confidence returning. “And maybe rough up a few people until we get some answers. Shouldn’t take too long.”

Angie’s smile was brief but sincere. “Thanks.”

Lumina tilted her head. “In the meantime, you’ve got to be careful. You can’t go out alone. And… you can’t keep pushing yourself like this. The more jobs you take, the more chances you give the virus to get the better of you.”

Angie frowned but nodded. “I know. But I still have to make a living. I can’t just sit here and do nothing.”

Kitten shrugged. “True. But you don’t have to take on the sprawl by yourself, either. We’ll help. We’ve already got your back. Might as well make it official.”

Angie hesitated, her instinct to work solo clashing with the trust she had in them. But deep down, she knew Kitten was right. She was running out of time and options. And the last thing she wanted was to hurt either of them—or anyone else. “Alright. I’m in.”

“Good,” Lumina said, a flicker of relief in her voice. “Now, let’s figure out our next steps. We’ll do what we always do—make the impossible happen.”

Angie’s smile returned, a little less weighed down this time. “Guess there’s no other team I’d rather be stuck with in this mess.”

Kitten rolled her eyes playfully. “Yeah, well, you’re lucky we’re not charging you extra for the emotional trauma.”

The hours in the safe house drifted by as they sat around the dimly lit room, discussing strategies, checking contacts, and gathering what little intel they could. Angie had been through tight spots before, but this… this was different. There wasn’t a clear way out, no simple fix. The virus wasn’t something she could shoot her way through or hack past. It was inside her, and every hour it twisted the rules of her own body against her.

“Alright,” Kitten said, stowing her deck and stretching her arms behind her head as she stood. “I’ve pinged a few of my people. Should hear back by morning. I’m betting at least one of ‘em knows something useful.”

Lumina nodded, eyes flicking across the data she had pulled up on her wrist-comp. “I’ve got a few leads as well. There's some chatter about a black-market scientist out in the Outskirts—apparently had a run-in with something similar. Might be worth looking into.”

Angie let out a breath, her shoulders slumping slightly with a mix of exhaustion and the brief glimmer of hope. “Thanks. I… I don’t know what I’d do without you two.”

Kitten smirked, tapping her chin. “Oh, you’d definitely be dead. No question.”

Lumina rolled her eyes. “Subtle as always.”

Angie gave a tired laugh, but her mind was elsewhere. She leaned back in the old, tattered chair she was sitting in, the creak of its springs echoing in the otherwise quiet room. Her gaze drifted to the boarded-up window, where faint streaks of neon lights bled through the cracks. The sprawl outside felt distant, like a world apart from this hidden corner where she could pretend, for just a little while, that everything was normal.

But it wasn’t. And she couldn’t shake the feeling that time was running out.

“You should get some rest,” Lumina said softly, sensing the shift in Angie’s mood. “We’ll handle the leads. You’ll need your energy.”

Angie wanted to argue. She wanted to say that she couldn’t afford to rest—that every second wasted brought her closer to losing control. But her body was screaming for a break, her muscles aching from the strain, and her mind felt like it had been stretched thin over the last few days. “Yeah,” she said quietly, “I guess you’re right.”

Kitten waved a hand. “Go crash in the back room. We’ll keep an eye on things. If anything comes up, we’ll wake you.”

With a small nod, Angie pushed herself up from the chair, her movements slower than usual, heavy. The moment she stood, she felt the weight of the infection settle in her bones, a reminder of the virus lurking beneath her skin. It was as if it had its own heartbeat, pulsing beneath her own. She clenched her fists, refusing to give in to the sensation as she made her way to the back room.

The door creaked as she opened it, revealing a small space cluttered with old crates and worn-out furniture. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. Angie sat down on the cot, her mind still racing even as her body begged for sleep.

She kicked off her boots and leaned back, her eyes drifting to the ceiling as the familiar haze of exhaustion began to cloud her vision. But even as the edges of sleep beckoned, the hunger gnawed at her—deeper, more insistent than before. She closed her eyes, trying to push it down, trying to remind herself that she was still in control.

But the control was slipping. She could feel it.

A few more days, maybe, and she wasn’t sure what would be left of her.

Hours later, the sound of soft footsteps outside the door stirred her awake. Angie blinked, groggy, trying to get her bearings. The back room was dark, save for the faint glow of light spilling through the cracks in the doorframe. She sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes, her muscles protesting every movement.

The door creaked open just a sliver, and Lumina peeked in, her expression calm but serious. “Angie? You awake?”

“Yeah,” Angie muttered, sitting up straighter. “What’s up?”

Lumina stepped inside, closing the door behind her. “Kitten and I are heading out to follow a couple leads. It’s gonna take us out of the sprawl for a bit, but we didn’t want to leave without letting you know.”

Angie frowned. “You’re leaving now?”

Lumina nodded. “We figured the sooner we start, the better. I left you some supplies by the front. You’ll be alright here for a while?”

Angie forced a smile, though the unease crept up on her. Being alone in her state wasn’t exactly her favourite option. But Lumina was right—time wasn’t on their side. “Yeah. I’ll manage.”

Lumina hesitated, as if she wanted to say something more, but then she simply nodded. “We’ll be back as soon as we can. Just hang in there, okay?”

“I will,” Angie replied, trying to sound more confident than she felt.

As Lumina slipped out of the room, closing the door softly behind her, the silence settled back in, thick and suffocating. Angie leaned back against the wall, exhaling slowly. Alone again. And with the hunger creeping closer, the nights were getting harder to face by herself.

The gnawing thirst surged, and despite herself, Angie couldn’t help but wonder how long she could keep it at bay.