“EVICTION NOTICE – BY ORDER OF THE PHANTOM LANDLORD.” Junia’s vision blurred at the holographic projection, the amber light pulsing like a digital bruise. This couldn’t be happening. Not now. Not when the Zenith Cup was a mere cycle away. The Scrap Yard, her grubby refuge, the heart of her desperate plan to reclaim her name from Narek Voss, was being ripped away. The Phantom Landlord was a name whispered in the grimy alleyways of Oakhaven, a faceless entity buying up every forgotten nook and cranny, squeezing the life out of the underground districts. Their presence was a cold dread that clung to the air like the ever-present haze from the city’s fusion reactors. “Oh, dearie me! What a… *flashy* welcome home!” Junia forced a laugh, her voice far too high-pitched, the airhead persona snapping back into place like a well-oiled circuit. She glanced at Renzo, whose large hands were already reaching for the shimmering notice. His brow was smooth, uncreased by worry, his gaze just curious. He looked like he was about to fix a leaky faucet, not confront a corporate takeover. “Looks like a system error,” Renzo murmured, his deep voice calm as he prodded the projection with a finger. “Might just need a reset. I’ve seen these proprietary displays before. Fussy things.” Before Junia could articulate her internal scream, a terrified yelp pierced the twilight. “No! Stop! My… my rig!” Junia’s head whipped around. At the far end of the alley, near a discarded stack of power conduits, her timid rookie, Pip, was cowering. Two hulking figures from the ‘Coil Vipers’—a street team known for their aggressive, low-tier brawls—were towering over him. One, a man with a cybernetic arm that hummed faintly, was yanking at Pip’s portable VR console, its delicate fiber-optic cables already strained. The other sneered, kicking a pile of spare parts near Pip’s feet. “Look what we got here, boss. A little baby Serpent trying to sneak into the big leagues,” the other Viper sneered, his voice a gravelly growl. “Heard you’re squatting in the Scrap Yard. Guess your ‘manager’ can’t even afford proper protection.” Fury, hot and sharp, flared in Junia’s chest, threatening to burn through her bubbly facade. Pip was a skittish genius, a prodigy with a mouse, but easily intimidated. He was her secret weapon, the raw talent she was molding into a precision instrument. If he broke, her entire plan would crumble. Her hands clenched, but before she could launch into a perfectly calculated verbal assault, Renzo was already moving. He didn't stride or run. He just… ambled, a heavy wrench materializing in his hand with practiced ease. The Coil Vipers didn’t even register him until he was right there, a solid, unassuming presence. “Excuse me, fellas,” Renzo said, his tone utterly devoid of malice, as if asking them to pass the salt. “Looks like you’ve got a short in your systems. Mind if I just… take a look?” The one with the cybernetic arm laughed, a harsh, grating sound. “Get lost, grandpa. This ain’t your business.” Renzo didn’t respond. His eyes, usually warm and crinkling at the corners, were focused, analytical. He deftly plucked the VR deck from the man's hand. Before the thug could react, Renzo’s wrench descended with a soft *thwack* against the chassis side panel. There was a tiny *pop*, a flicker of sparks, and the console went dead. Sektor’s jaw dropped. Renzo then turned to the partner's portable power pack, which was still humming with aggressive energy. Another quiet *thwack*, a different *pop*, and that, too, fell silent. He returned the now-useless hardware with an apologetic shrug. “There we go. Just a quick reset. Should clear up those pesky bugs for ya.” The Coil Vipers stared, bewildered, then at their dead equipment. Their faces went from aggression to dumbfounded rage. Renzo, meanwhile, was already helping Pip gather his scattered parts, his movements efficient and gentle. “No need to thank me, son. Just some basic maintenance.” Inside the cavernous, damp interior of the Scrap Yard, the air was thick with the scent of recycled circuits and stale energy drinks. A single dangling bulb flickered, casting long, dancing shadows. Her team, a motley crew of overlooked talents, looked up from their respective stations. There was Kaito, her stoic tank specialist, meticulously polishing his haptic gloves, and Zara, her swift skirmisher, practicing complex movement patterns on a worn mat. Pip, still a little shaky, hovered behind her. “Team! Meet Renzo!” Junia announced, her voice booming with forced cheer. “My… *husband*! He’s our new official Scrap Yard Handyman! Isn’t that just *peachy*? He’s going to fix all our broken bits and bobs!” She shot Renzo a wink, a silent message: *play along, cheap labor, remember?* Renzo offered a charming, slightly sheepish smile to the team. “Pleasure to meet you all. Looks like you’ve got quite the operation here.” His eyes swept over the haphazard arrangement of servers, monitors, and discarded wiring, lingering for a fraction longer on the massive, ancient cooling unit that wheezed in the corner. Junia quickly shooed Pip to his practice station, a rickety desk overloaded with screens. “Pip darling, back to your precision drills! Remember, every hit counts!” She discreetly nudged Glitch, who was already perched on her shoulder, eyeing the mechanical keyboard switches on Pip’s desk with intense focus. The ferret chittered, then scurried down, his tiny paws pattering across the floor. He settled near Pip’s monitor, his head tilted. Junia tapped Glitch’s collar-mic, her smile never wavering. “*Three-point-seven-two-five-degree tilt on that last strafe, Pip. Predict the enemy’s pre-fire by a full half-beat. Rotate left on the next spawn.*” The words, clear and precise, were whispered into the tiny microphone, a stark contrast to her airy public voice. Renzo watched, a curious glint in his eyes, as Glitch twitched an ear. He then turned his attention to the persistently dripping patch in the ceiling, directly above the main server rack. “That leak’s no good,” he observed, his voice thoughtful. “Could short out your entire system.” “Oh, it’s been there forever!” Junia waved a dismissive hand, her heart clenching with worry. She couldn’t afford more damage. “Just adds character, right?” “Character or not, it’s a hazard. I’ll patch it up.” Renzo, without further comment, disappeared towards the back. A few minutes later, the clanking of tools echoed through the warehouse as he scaled a ladder to the ceiling, a coil of what looked like heavy-duty wiring slung over his shoulder. Hours passed. The gentle *drip-drip-drip* of the leak vanished. Renzo descended, wiping a smudge of grease from his cheek. “All patched up. Found some extra cabling lying around, figured it might come in handy.” He gestured vaguely towards the roof. Junia, however, caught a faint shimmer. A thin, almost invisible strand of light, barely thicker than a hair, snaked down from where Renzo had been working, connecting seamlessly into the core network hub. It wasn't 'extra cabling'. It was state-of-the-art gigabit fiber-optics, the kind that cost more than her entire team's annual salary. Her throat tightened. This poor handyman, her convenient husband, had gone above and beyond. A warmth spread through her chest, something beyond mere calculation. It was… genuine affection. “Renzo,” she began, her voice softer than intended, almost a murmur. “You… you didn’t have to.” He just smiled, a disarming, lopsided grin. “Nonsense. A man takes care of his home, doesn’t he? And his… uh… *wife’s* team.” “*Pip! Push through the bottleneck! Three-man stack, now!*” Junia’s voice suddenly sliced through the air, sharp and guttural, devoid of all bubbly pretense. Pip had frozen, caught in a virtual choke point. Her gaze, usually wide and innocent, narrowed to slits of pure, calculating focus. It was a commander’s voice, honed by years of tactical warfare, not a manager’s chirpy encouragement. Renzo, who had been coiling up his 'extra' wires, paused. His head tilted, his easy smile faltered. His stare, dark and intelligent, locked onto hers for a fleeting instant, a flicker of something unreadable—suspicion?—before he smoothly masked it, his grin returning. “Right then. Looks like the systems are humming along nicely.” Junia's pulse spiked into her throat, a frantic drumbeat of dread. Had he heard? Had he seen? She forced another laugh. “Just getting into the spirit of things, Renzo! Go, Pip, go!” The new fiber-optic connection hummed, silent but powerful. Pip, emboldened by the sudden surge of speed, executed a flawless multi-kill. He cheered, punching the air. “Yes! We did it! I’m logging into the league server to check my ranking!” “No, Pip, wait!” Junia cried, but it was too late. He'd already hit the button. A stark red notification flashed across her main monitor: [PROXIMITY ALERT – ILLEGAL BOOT CAMP LOCATION DETECTED. BROADCASTING TO VERIFIED LEAGUE TEAM LEADERS.] Beneath it, a chilling message: [TARGET ACQUIRED: VOID REALM CHAMPIONS – NAREK VOSS].

Fiber-Optics and False Fronts