Location: Talwyn-Heart – Main Deck, Ghost Rider

  The station hadn’t changed. But the crew had.

  Five days. Five days of dust. Five days with no progress, no sleep, half-baked leads, and fully-cooked paranoia.

  Talwyn-Heart was a hollow carcass. The crew had split up, dug through data, networks, and old memories. What remained wasn’t information. It was frustration.

  Scene 1: Five Days of Dust, Dirt, and DisappointmentThey sat in the Ghost Rider’s lounge. Half-lit. Half-awake. Half-dead.

  “Three contacts.” – Shade “Two are dead. One tried to sell me his cat.”

  “I found a guy who still worships Red as a goddess.” – Rogue “I let him live. For a change.”

  “I fixed an old console! It now shows… uh… weather data from 2944!” – Scrap, beaming like a kid proud of a broken toaster

  “I tried to keep you all alive. That’s something, right?” – Carter

  “I smoked, drank, and slept with an informant.” – Bcksheep Pause “Not in that order.”

  No one asked for details. Not a single person.

  Scene 2: The MessageShip time: 02:41. The Ghost Rider slept.

  Only the reactor’s soft pulse and Carter’s rhythmically tragic snoring filled the silence.

  Then: Ping.

  A light blinked on the console. Subtle. Unnerving.

  Shade got up. Approached.

  No sender. No encryption.

  Just one sentence on a flickering background:

  “Come to the attached coordinates. I have information you may find... interesting.” – J.

  Scene 3: ReactionsThe crew gathered. Sleep still in their eyes. Suspicion fully awake in their voices.

  “J.” – Shade, thoughtful “That’s either a dead informant, a setup, or...” “...or someone better than us.” – Rogue

  “I’d like to point out that 78% of untraceable messages statistically end in violence.” – Carter “But 22% might end in pizza!” – Scrap

  “I know five people with the letter J.” – Bcksheep “Two are dead. Two want me dead. The st one... depends on the night.”

  And then she spoke. From the shadows, as always.

  “If someone sends me a message without using my name...” – Red “...they still think I’m dead. That’s cute. And dangerous.”

  Her voice was cold. Her smile: knife-sharp and ced with nostalgia.

  No one asked if she was threatening herself. You didn’t ask Red questions when she drifted between threat and poetry.

  Scene 4: The DecisionThe coordinates pointed to: An abandoned mining station, deep in Pyro’s outer reaches. No signal. No cover.

  Just rocks, rust, darkness— And the letter J.

  “We’re going.” – Shade “Armed. Prepared.”

  “I’m never anything else.” – Rogue, unblinking

  “I’m bringing Snugglecore!” – Scrap, radiant

  “I’m bringing painkillers.” – Carter, ftly resigned

  “I’m bringing the party.” – Red

  No one ughed. Not because they cked humor— But because they knew: She meant it.

  CHAPTER END