Chapter 1 Prologue- CYBERPUNK 2098 IS WHERE WE ENDED UP-The Glitch in the System.

The air in the Seattle-Cascadia Correctional Facility clung to Jason and Luna like a shroud of recycled despair. It was 2098, and even the "rehabilitation" centers of the Neo-States had an efficiency to their bleakness. The automated gates hissed open with a final, echoing groan, spitting them out onto the rain-slicked ferrocrete of what used to be Seattle. Now, it was a sprawling, neon-drenched metropolis, a monument to corporate greed and the glittering decay of the 21st century.

Jason, at 32, felt a decade older than his years. His gaunt frame, once hardened by four years in the US Navy and years of black-market engineering, now seemed brittle. His eyes, the color of storm clouds over his native Portland, Oregon, scanned the towering, chrome-plated skyscrapers that clawed at the perpetually overcast sky. Each building pulsed with holographic advertisements, a chaotic symphony of hyper-consumerism that felt alien after ten years of muted, regulated existence. He clutched Luna’s hand, her skin cool against his, a familiar anchor in a world that had rewritten itself in their absence.

Luna, 31, her hair a vibrant shock of electric blue against the grimy cityscape, moved with a practiced grace that belied the weariness in her emerald eyes. Born and raised in the sun-baked sprawl of what was once Los Angeles, her innate adaptability, honed by a degree in professional technology from USC, was now a survival instinct. She was the one who always saw the angles, the hidden pathways in the intricate code of their lives.

“Ten years,” Luna murmured, her voice a low hum against the omnipresent thrum of airborne vehicles. “Can you believe it, Jase? Ten years since… since the incident.”

Jason squeezed her hand tighter. The incident. A decade ago, a botched data heist in Salt Lake City, a job that had gone sideways in a flash of gunfire and screaming alarms. They’d been young, reckless, high on the thrill of defying the megacorps and the promise of a life unburdened by their oppressive systems. They’d met a year before that, in 2087, in a grimy, bass-heavy club beneath the towering spires of the reformed Mormon Temple. He, a fresh-faced engineer with a knack for dismantling complex machinery; she, a prodigy with a datajack humming against her temple, fluent in the whispered language of networks. They’d married a year later, a quiet ceremony in a digitized chapel, swearing their vows over flickering holograms of forgotten gods.

He remembered her, then, in the haze of the club, her laugh like a cascade of broken glass, her eyes alive with a fierce, intelligent spark. He, a pragmatic engineer, had been drawn to her wildness, her untamed spirit that defied the neat algorithms of his world. She, he later learned, had found solace in his quiet strength, his unwavering loyalty.

“We’ll make it right, Luna,” Jason said, his voice raspy from disuse. “New lives. That’s what we promised, right?”

Luna offered a weak smile. “Promises made in a cell are easy to keep. Out here…” She gestured vaguely at the dizzying expanse of the city, at the endless stream of automated traffic zipping through the aerial lanes. “Out here, it’s a whole different kind of prison.”

Their meager belongings, a single duffel bag each, contained little more than worn clothing, a few faded photos, and the ghost of their former lives. Jason’s engineering degree from the University of Portland, a relic from a time before the corporatocracy had truly choked the academic world, was now a paperweight, an echo of a life he’d planned. Luna’s professional technology degree was more useful, but even her skills felt antiquated in a world that had moved on to quantum computing and neural interfaces that made direct human interaction almost obsolete.

They hailed an auto-cab, a silent, electric drone that hummed through the teeming streets. The city was a kaleidoscope of vibrant light and deep shadow. Grimy alleys, choked with discarded synth-food wrappers and flickering holographic graffiti, contrasted sharply with the pristine, elevated walkways reserved for the privileged elite. Street vendors hawked bio-engineered street meat and knock-off cybernetics. The air tasted of ozone, cheap synth-smoke, and the metallic tang of rain.

Their destination was a grimy, third-story apartment in the Lower Sprawl, a relic of Old Seattle that had somehow escaped demolition. The landlord, a wizened old woman with more chrome than flesh, looked at them with a practiced indifference that spoke volumes about her clientele.

Inside, the apartment was small, barely larger than their prison cell, but it had a window. From it, they could see the endless, mesmerizing dance of the city lights, a dizzying tapestry of ambition and desperation. Jason felt a flicker of the old spark, the engineer’s curiosity, as he observed the intricate network of power conduits snaking across the buildings, the complex algorithms governing the traffic flow. He saw the cracks in the system, the potential for manipulation, for a new kind of freedom.

Luna, meanwhile, was already setting up their meager data-pad, her fingers flying across the virtual keyboard. “We need to get our comms up,” she said, her voice sharp with purpose. “See what the market’s like for… specialized skills.”

Jason knew what she meant. They were out of prison, but they weren't free. Not yet. The system, a vast, complex web of surveillance and corporate control, had a way of pulling you back in. But this time, they wouldn't be caught. This time, they would play by their own rules. The glitch in the system was out, and it was ready to wreak havoc.