As the progress bar in his peripheral vision reached 99%, the front doors of the Bee Bar kicked open. Flashlights cut through the haze. "Connection complete," a voice chimed in his head.
Jax didn’t hesitate. He fished the drive out, ignoring the sting of the alcohol on his fingertips, and slotted it into the port behind his ear. The world around him dissolved.
The neon sign for "The Hive" flickered, casting a bruised purple glow over the rain-slicked pavement of Sector 4. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of synthetic ozone and cheap coolant. This was , the only place in the underground where the "Lost Citizens"—those erased from the central database—could feel like they existed.