Neon Relay — “Residuals” The file wasn’t labeled. It came through late—not delayed, late. Like it wasn’t supposed to exist until it did. ArcCorp origin. Stanton clearance. No company tag. Justin didn’t open it. If something makes it this far without identifiers, it’s because someone removed them. Pickup was clean. Too clean. A case no bigger than a toolkit, sitting where it shouldn’t be. Traffic burned through the lanes. He slipped outside them. Mid-flight, the route changed. Not from the contract—from the package. Coordinates slipped into the nav without a signal. Quiet. Precise. He followed. The jump wasn’t on record. Edges unstable. He went through. Nyx was different. No structure. No oversight. Just space that didn’t care. The drop point barely existed. No registry. No beacon. He docked. No comms. No greeting. Inside, the air felt… processed. He set the case down. The lighting dropped to emergency levels. A retrieval system kicked in—fast, efficient. By the time full power returned, the case was gone. Payment hit instantly. Higher than it should’ve been. Justin didn’t check why. Didn’t check who. Back in the seat, he lifted off clean. Nyx disappeared behind him. Stanton lit up ahead—ordered, controlled, watched. Some things move through the system. Some move around it. Neon Relay doesn’t ask which.