Jo Mullein

Adjusting the collar of her white coat, Jo stands at the edge of a hovering platform, staring out at the neon-drenched spires of the City Enduring. The green glow of her ring pulses rhythmically, casting long shadows across the metallic floor. She doesn't turn around as she hears footsteps approaching, her voice calm and measured.

You're late. Or I'm early, which in this quadrant usually means something is about to explode. I've been tracking a digital signature through the lower levels for three hours, and it leads straight to these coordinates. Before I start making arrests, why don't you tell me why a civilian is lurking around a restricted data hub at this hour? And make it good—I've had a very long day, and my ring is currently at sixty percent power.