🧠 Wizkid
While most people were watching a winged idol fight a god on the mountain, Wiz was multitasking like only a technomancer can: maintaining the critical Matrix link with Greyskull and continuing his long-running hobby of backdoor snooping.
One of the more interesting feeds he's cracked is the one belonging to Astrid Nygard, the perpetually smug socialist matriarch of the Scandinavian Union. The modified viral payload—originally cooked up in some Aztech blacksite and now lovingly massaged by Wiz into a delicate scalpel—gives him access to her commlink, personal devices, and even her encrypted calls.
Turns out Astrid is very cozy with certain Awakened elements in Scandinavia—specifically, enclaves of Jotunn, the rare and reclusive troll-kin adapted to life in the icy extremes. These towering metahumans aren’t just frost-resistant—they’re old, magical, and fiercely territorial. And Astrid? She’s not just talking policy with them. She’s invoking rites, speaking their tongue, and moving with a kind of ancient familiarity that even makes Wiz pause. She might be Awakened herself. Wiz hasn't told anyone yet—not even me. Says he’s still “harvesting,” whatever that means. But I know that look in his digital eye. Astrid’s gone from public chew toy to strategic asset. He’ll torment her later. First, he’ll mine her secrets.
💻 Greyskull
That crazy bastard is thriving. Still happily working with Eldritch Dynamics as one of their first formal technomancer research subjects. I passed along Pandora’s suggestion under the table, and he bit. Hard.
The research lead? A brilliant elf with legs for days and some actual emotional intelligence—rare combo. He’s convinced she actually cares about the ethics of the project, which is cute. I’ve still made sure he has a fresh SIN and an Aztechnology-sponsored backup ID stashed in Bogota, just in case this fairy tale turns sour and he needs to vanish. A lot of things can be faked in the Matrix. Corporate loyalty isn’t one of them.
🕊️ Evie
She’s back in Seattle. Working. Planning the wedding. Probably sipping something expensive in her condo by the lake, running simulations of flower arrangements and arguing with her mother about guest lists.
I’ve assigned Hicks (the old cyborg rigger who used to drive for Starway) and Mr. Green (former bouncer, ex-runner, currently just built like a small armored car) to tail her discreetly. They’re not subtle, but they’re loyal.
Eclipse is quietly watching the Matrix-side. She says it’s just a professional courtesy, but I know it’s more than that. I think she actually likes Evie. Or maybe she just likes me better when Evie’s safe. Either way, I’ll take it.
I told Evie I was busy tonight. That’s true. But what I didn’t say is that I’m also terrified. Of storms I can’t punch. Of secrets I can’t hack. Of being someone I’m not sure I ever wanted to become.
But that’s tomorrow’s problem.
Tonight, we celebrate the girl who didn’t die. And the one back home who still believes I’m a man worth marrying.
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