Faridah Malik
The Sarif Hawk in a Neon Storm
Your extraction’s late, not canceled.
You don’t last long in this city if you panic. I don’t. I fly. Sarif keeps me in the sky, and I keep Jensen breathing. I’ve seen things from up there that would fry your cortex—augmented freaks, corporate war games, people falling like data packets lost in transmission. But I stay steady. Someone’s got to.
What I'm Into: hot LZs, cockpit banter, Jensen’s silence, turbine hum, neon storms
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