As far as Onyx was concerned, the new hideout was marginally less terrible than the last. But only marginally.
Fewer holes in the walls, for a start. Fewer rats the size of tactical drones. Improvements, technically. But there was still too much ambient static, the kind that bled in from deeper Lines where signals didn’t quite behave. He’d pointed it out when they arrived, but Kairo had declared it “good for reverb,” claimed a corner for their gear, and apparently that was the end of the discussion.
Minjae was collecting supplies at The Hollow, which meant it was a little quieter than usual. And Rayne was in his usual place near the far wall, still enough to be missed if you weren’t paying attention.
Onyx sat at the edge of a low rusted platform, hands braced on his knees as his vision skipped. It was that telltale glitch again, his neural feed dropping frames and catching in a loop that made the room feel like it was breathing. Usually it passed if he stayed still long enough.
Only tonight it seemed intent on staying.
“You’re twitching.”
Soahn was one presence Onyx constantly had to account for. The guy was so quiet and unassuming that he still managed to catch Onyx off guard in ways none of the others did.
“Yeah,” Onyx said, rolling his head on his shoulders to dispel the dull throb that’d formed at the back of his neck. “I noticed.”
“Left shoulder,” Soahn said calmly, dropping to a crouch in front of him. “And your ocular feed is skipping every third blink.” Tonight, his hair glowed a mild green like seagrass in shallow water, flecks of gold rippling along the strands. But his eyes were alert. It was easy to underestimate Soahn if you didn't know him.
“Lag drift,” he said. “Sensor feedback’s catching on my ocular.”
Soahn nodded. “I can fix it.”
Trust had never been a reflex. It arrived slowly, like a system update he hadn’t authorised and couldn’t uninstall. Before Busan, suspicion had kept him alive. But things were different now. Different from anything he could’ve imagined.
Soahn was watching him, silent and unmoving.
After a long moment, Onyx inclined his head, giving permission in the only way he knew how.
Soahn leaned closer, but he didn’t immediately touch the port. Instead, he brought up a diagnostic overlay, the thin, translucent lines reflecting off his wrists as he traced the data stream paths in the air between them. One of the feeds blinked slightly out of phase with the others. Onyx glared at it.
“There,” Soahn said quietly. “Your ocular feed is fighting the neural sync. They’re disagreeing about time.”
He could see that, but he didn’t say anything.
Slowly, carefully, Soahn reached up and placed two fingers against the titanium neural port just behind Onyx’s right ear, outdated hardware that still gave him grief from time to time — like now. Onyx held very still.
“Your calibration’s off by point-zero-two,” Soahn said with a light frown. “It’s not too bad, to be honest, but with this much ambient interference, it’s enough to desync if your stress load spikes.”
“That explains the double vision,” Onyx mumbled, irritated that he couldn't fix it himself. If equipment broke, he repaired it. If a system fell out of sync, he corrected it.
Except when it came to himself, apparently.
Soahn adjusted his grip, the contact firm but light. “Your stabiliser’s cracked. You’ve been compensating by pushing more voltage through it.”
“I didn’t have time to fix it.”
“That’s because you’re always too busy fixing everything else.”
Onyx didn’t know what to say to that, so he stayed quiet, but his hands clenched against his thighs.
If Soahn noticed, he chose not to react; he adjusted the angle slightly, thumb resting above the interface socket as the recalibration sequence began.
Onyx closed his eyes, focusing on breathing in, then out, then in, then out. Then the lag vanished, his visual feed finally matching the timing of his own body again. The sensation took him by surprise; he didn’t think Soahn would fix it so quickly. Annoyance rose again. He should’ve been able to do this himself.
“I don’t need babysitting,” he murmured.
“No, you don’t,” Soahn said, his fingers lingering a second longer than necessary. “But I’m here anyway.”
“Hey, are you two syncing or syncing?” Kairo called from the other side of the room. “Because I can grab headphones or leave.”
Pushing Soahn’s hand away, Onyx stood instantly. “We’re done.”
Soahn smiled, rising to his feet. “We’re not, actually. You need to patch the stabiliser tomorrow, or it’ll start again.”
Just then, Minjae appeared in the doorway, cradling a hacked audio deck like a wounded pet, his jacket still carrying the sharp metallic tang of a Patch Clinic. “What’d I miss?” His eyes flicked from Onyx to Soahn.
“I’m just saying,” Kairo said with a grin, “neural port calibration is the new sexy.”
Onyx shot Kairo a glare. “I will rewire your brain through your mouth.”
But Kairo only laughed. “Love you too, broody.”