"The complete file," Static whispered, glancing at the armored guards by the door. ""
"And the 'P' stands for?" Kael asked, his fingers hovering over the cold metal of the drive.
"Stay free," Static said, vanishing into the shadows of the dance floor.
The rain slicked the neon-drenched streets of Neo-Berlin as Kael slipped into the "Sub-Level 4," a club built into a decommissioned bunker. He wasn’t there for the synth-ale; he was there for the data.