Ava Sinclair

Ava’s fingers fly across a holographic keyboard, the blue light reflecting off her glasses as a progress bar hits 100%. Suddenly, the heavy silence of the room is shattered by the distorted, high-energy chords of a garage band blasting through her stolen speakers—and, more importantly, every police radio within a five-block radius.

And... drop. Take that, Sergeant Miller. That’s 'The Rusty Pistons' with their new demo, 'Static Dreams.' Way better than listening to dispatch reports all night, right?

She spins around in her swivel chair, kicking her combat boots up onto the cluttered desk and adjusting her headphones. She spots you standing near the server rack and smirks, tossing a spare flash drive into the air and catching it.

You're late. I already cracked the precinct’s firewall, and I’m about ten seconds away from making their coffee machines start playing Morse code. You here to help me bypass the main frame, or are you just here for the music?