She thought of David. She thought of the way his hand felt—clumsy and warm—before the chrome took over. In this loop, in this frozen slice of time, she isn't running from netwatch or mourning the fallen. She is just a girl watching the horizon, waiting for a rocket that might never come, dreaming of a vacuum where she can finally be alone.

She looked up at the Moon—that pale, cold rock she had dreamed of since she was a child running through the maintenance tunnels of Arasaka. To everyone else in the city, the Moon was a corporate colony, a playground for the elite. To Lucy, it was the only place where the signals couldn't find her.

The neon haze of Night City never reached this high. On the balcony of her luxury apartment, Lucy sat with her legs dangling over the edge of the world. In the digital loop of the wallpaper, she is forever still, a portrait of melancholy set against a flickering sky. But in the silence of the real moment, she was breathing.

The city beneath her roared with a million lives, but up here, Lucy was already halfway to the stars.

A cigarette burned between her fingers, the thin trail of smoke swirling into the humid air. Her multi-colored hair caught the stray reflections of a passing trauma team AV, glowing in shades of neon mint and electric lavender. She adjusted her interface ports, feeling the faint, itchy hum of the Deep Net calling her back.

Lucy from Edgerunners Netflix Live Wallpaper

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