THE ORBITAL BONDING SYSTEM (OBS)

—Sector Null Exchange, FENR x Splicer Ren

[Location: Sector Null – Exchange Point 47-B | 02:11 Local Grid Time]

The air tasted of metal.

The kind of silence that settles over places forgotten by satellites and law.

Splicer Ren arrived first—always did.

He leaned against a column covered in peeling synth-ads, his coat draped low, concealing the shock glove wired under his palm. Murk, his obsidian ORB, hovered at his flank, completely muted. No glow. No signal.

He never took chances. Not on deals like this.

Not when the buyer was FENR.

[Arrival — FENR]

He emerged from the static mist like a glitch—shadow bending wrong, steps silent, eyes unreadable under a blank projection mask.

FENR didn't speak at first.

He just stopped three paces away, gaze flicking down at the hovering crate between them. Sealed. Quantum-locked. Still cold from its last jump.

"This it?" he asked, voice quiet as dust.

Ren shrugged. "One pre-linked G-ORB. Clean pull. High-grade. Was headed for a Solari vault up in Novan Arc before I intercepted the convoy."

FENR stepped forward.

He didn't touch it. Just observed.

"Pre-linked?"

Ren nodded, watching him too closely.

"Fully integrated. You'll have to crack the residual bond markers if you want root access. Could take you a cycle. Maybe three."

"I'll manage."

[Tension in the Trade]

FENR dropped a slim black chip into the air. It hovered. Verified Ren's identity. Then pulsed green—transaction complete.

Ren caught it mid-air and pocketed it with a twitch of the wrist.

But neither moved.

The silence between them grew thick, like pressure before a storm.

Then Ren chuckled—low and measured.

"You planning to do something stupid with it?"

FENR tilted his head, still masked. "Define stupid."

"You know what I mean. This kind of tech—this level of clearance—it's not just black market. It's black tombstone."

FENR didn't flinch.

"Worried for me?"

"Worried you'll bring heat that won't just scorch you. Numinex doesn't warn. They erase. Thoroughly. Efficiently. I've seen footage."

[The Hint of Backstab]

Ren's eyes lingered on the crate, then flicked up again.

"Suppose I hadn't sold it. Suppose I handed it to someone else. Suppose I flagged this drop."

FENR stepped forward once. Just once.

"Then I'd know. And we wouldn't be talking."

Ren's grin flattened—just slightly. Not fear. Just recognition. Like being reminded why you don't poke a flame with your fingers.

"Right."

[Unspoken Lines]

FENR reached into his coat and dropped a small node—data-fragment, unsigned. No signal. Encrypted.

"Your cut. For being punctual. And quiet."

Ren glanced at it but didn't pick it up yet.

"Just don't drag my name into whatever cathedral of digital nightmares you're building."

FENR turned away.

"You'll hear the screams. That's enough."

[Exit Scene]

Ren watched him vanish back into the fog.

Once he was gone, Murk blinked to life briefly.

Murk: "He could've killed you. Why didn't he?"

Ren picked up the data node and pocketed it.

"Because he's not done needing me yet. And because whatever he's planning?"

"He doesn't want to be alone when he lights the match."