Jax sat at the corner of the brass-plated bar, his cybernetic eye whirring as it struggled to focus. He wasn’t there for the fermented nectar or the social hum. He was there for the data.

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 stood up, the vibrations of the final track still thrumming in his bones. The Enforcers wanted the files deleted, but the music was already moving. He tapped his comms, broadcasting the signal to every burner phone in the sector.