Zza hit the lower deck so hard her ribs sang with pain. Dust exploded around her, drifting in slow circles as if the air forgot how gravity worked. She rolled once, twice, claws scraping metal, breath breaking somewhere in the middle. Her legs shook under her when she tried to stand. Her vision didn't help either; it slid sideways, dipped, then slammed sharp again like a bad signal.
The city layer she'd fallen into wasn't even a street. It looked like a half-digested corridor—walls sagging, metal bending inward, pipes pulsing like veins under a sick glow. Far above, the chamber she'd been thrown from sealed shut with a grinding echo that dripped down the vertical shafts. She felt it more than heard it. Her shell vibrated with each shudder.
And somewhere in that echo floated his voice.
**Buzz.**
One version soft. One version cold. Both of them crawling under her skin.
