Then she went in.
The net opened wide and Lucy slipped through, her eyes and hands working at different speeds—one tracing the data streams, the other steering packets where she wanted them. She kept a fake trail running on the side while she pushed into the company's inner systems. Perimeter defenses flickered, decoys shut down as she touched them. Each node played its part, but Lucy knew how to move past them without setting off alarms.
At first it was routine: copy a login, replay a token, redirect some traffic. Then the defenses tightened. The convoy systems weren't the weak kind most street hackers bragged about breaking. These were built to last—layer on layer, like locks inside other locks. Lucy worked through them with steady skill, every action measured and exact.
Halfway in, she felt something worse. The deck shook under her fingers; the display turned harsh and colorless. Black ICE never warns you. It just shows up and tries to crush you.
Her tongue tasted static, and sharp pain cut across her head. The instinct was to pull out, but she didn't stop. Her hands kept moving.
She fed the ICE fake logs to chew on while she got to work. Then she spun up a throwaway system for it to attack instead. The ICE fell for it, crawling into the trap. Her deck screamed warnings, but Lucy didn't flinch.
"You're pushing it," Max said from the doorway, voice steady but his grip on the frame was tight.
"Not the first time," Lucy shot back. "Won't be the last."
The ICE struck harder, throwing false memories and pain at her. She bit down, ignored it, and hit back with clean code that cut its grip. It wasn't pretty, but it worked. The pressure faded, leaving the node open for her.
Breathing heavy, Lucy stared at the new layout on her deck. The convoy's main access was right there, unprotected for the moment.
"Got it," she said, her voice thin but firm. "The system resets every seven minutes. There's a blind spot at Mile Marker 4 near a detour. That's when they push the heavy trucks."
Max let out a quiet breath. "How safe are we on the trace?"
Lucy moved quick, folding her trail into loops that would cover their steps. "I stored the data. Dropped some noise in their billing server. That'll hide us for a while, maybe half a day. Not long, but enough."
V stepped closer, the end of her cigarette glowing. "You sure you didn't want me to smash in while you played thief?"
Lucy gave her a tired half-smile. "You're better with bullets. I'll stick to the net."
The room went quiet. Lucy shut her deck and slid it back into her bag, her hands shaking just a little.
Max pulled up the hologram again, studying the map until the red routes locked in place. "We move at dawn. V, you handle the intercept. Lucy, you time the rotation and keep us hidden."
"Who's covering the rear?" V asked.
"I will," Max answered. "From the roof. I'll deal with their monitors. You two set the trap."
Lucy nodded. "If the system notices us, I'll have a minute to cut us free. Don't waste it."
V grinned. "I'll give them enough noise to think it's daylight."
They checked their gear—guns loaded, clips locked, a few EMP rounds added to the pack. Max synced his wristdeck to the new data, lining up the plan: catch the convoy in the blind lane, block the front and back, stop them fast, and pull the cargo before Militech could react.
Lucy ran her fingers across her deck one more time, as if making sure it was still steady. Outside, a generator rumbled, and far away, engines hummed on the street.
"Rest if you can," Max said, quieter now.
Lucy gave a short laugh. "We'll see."
They each went their own way. V packed her tools, Max climbed to the roof to check angles, and Lucy lay down on a cot, letting the rush fade.
By dawn, the city would start to move again. And when the convoy came through, they would be ready.
Dawn came thin and gray. The city smelled of diesel and wet concrete. They moved into position with a quiet that felt heavier than noise.
V drove a battered van up the side street, engine humming low. She parked where she could see the approach and still slip away fast. Two other rides waited, dark and low, disguised as delivery trucks. Max climbed to a low rooftop with a clear view of Mile Marker 4, wristdeck feeding him live camera angles. Lucy sat in the van's back with her deck open, headphones on, fingers ready.
Traffic hummed. The convoy's headlights appeared first, a long bright line down the avenue. Lead vehicle, two heavy transports, and the tail—exactly what Lucy had mapped. The blind lane was coming up.
V nudged the van forward, easing into the alley where they planned to cut the convoy. She checked her rifle, then checked it again. Her hands were steady.
Max counted down on his wrist—sixty seconds, forty, twenty. Lucy's voice came over the comm, cool and steady. "Admin token rotates in seven… now." She tapped a key and pushed the fake rotation into the ledger. "You have the window."
V stepped out and moved into place, small and fast. She put a remote on the curb and ducked back behind a concrete divider. The convoy rolled through the detour exactly where Lucy said it would. The drivers didn't know anything was wrong.
At Max's signal, V hit the remote. A flash of EMP knocked the lead vehicle's instruments dead. Headlights blinked. The driver swore and pulled to the side. The two heavy transports slowed, confused, and the tail tightened up. That was the moment they wanted.
V fired her rifle at the lead's armored rear axle—precise, not brutal. The truck slowed to a stop. The convoy ground to a halt in a line that made it easy to box in.
Max called targets; his voice was low but sharp. "Front blocked. Tail stopped. Move."
***
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