As his fingers closed around the cold glass, a siren wailed. The Spider-Drone had looped back, and this time, its sensors locked onto the thermal signature of his torch.

The TG-01 didn’t look like much—a palm-sized cube of matte-black glass—but it hummed with a warmth that felt almost alive. This wasn't just data; it was the neural core of the city’s failed "Clean Water Initiative." In the wrong hands, it was a weapon. In Scavvy’s hands, it was a payday that could buy him a ticket to the Upper Tiers.

"Don't fail me now, junk-heap," he whispered to his scanner.

Scavvy shoved the processor into his lead-lined satchel and bolted. He knew these tunnels better than any corporate map. He slid down a rusted ventilation shaft, sparks flying as his boots scraped the metal. Behind him, the rapid-fire thud of the drone’s pulse-cannon chewed through the ductwork.