The abandoned lot was our battlefield, and our weapons were shovels and seeds. For weeks, we'd been turnin' this patch of toxic wasteland into somethin' beautiful – a secret garden hidden from corp sensors and greedy eyes.
But tonight, everything was goin' to drek.
"Neon, we've got company!" Syntax hissed, her elven eyes piercin' the darkness. "Looks like KE, and they've got drones!"
I cursed, my troll hands still deep in the soil. We'd known this was risky, but I'd never thought they'd care about a bunch of SINless growin' veggies.
"Everyone, scatter!" I growled, but it was too late. Spotlights flooded the area, and the whir of drone rotors filled the air.
"This is a restricted area," an amplified voice boomed. "You are in violation of Ares Macrotechnology property rights. Surrender immediately."
Panic set in. Runners and locals alike started fleein', but I couldn't move. Months of work, the promise of real food – I couldn't let it all be destroyed.
"Neon, come on!" Whisper tugged at my arm, her cyberware glistenin' in the harsh light.
But I stood my ground. "No. We're not runnin'. Not this time."
I saw the confusion in her eyes, but something in my voice must've reached her. She nodded, then started roundin' up the others who hadn't fled.
The KE officers approached, fingers on triggers. "Step away from the plants. This is your final warning."
I raised my hands slowly, my mind racin'. "Officer," I called out, tryin' to keep my voice steady, "we ain't hurtin' nobody. This land was poisoned. We're healin' it."
"This land belongs to Ares," the lead officer snapped. "You're trespassing."
That's when Syntax stepped forward, her hands also raised. "Actually, sir, if you check the municipal records, you'll find this lot was rezoned for community use three years ago. Ares' claim expired."
The officer hesitated, and I saw his AR display flicker as he accessed the data. It was a gamble – Syntax had done some fast slicing to alter the records – but it might just work.
"Furthermore," she continued, gaining confidence, "under the Emergency Food Security Act of 2071, citizens are encouraged to cultivate unused urban spaces. We're not criminals. We're adhering to the law."
I held my breath, watchin' the conflict play out on the officer's face. Finally, he lowered his weapon slightly. "I... I'll need to verify this."
"Of course," I rumbled. "While you do, maybe take a look around. See what we're really doin' here."
Cautiously, the KE team began to inspect the garden. I saw eyes widen as they took in the thriving plants, the carefully tended soil.
One of the younger officers knelt, running his fingers through the earth. "This... this is real soil. Not the toxic sludge that's usually here."
"That's right," I said, feeling a spark of hope. "We've been workin' to cleanse it. Usin' old techniques, stuff the corps forgot about in their rush for profit."
The lead officer was still frowning, but I could see the doubt creepin' in. "Why go through all this trouble? Why not just buy food like everyone else?"
Whisper stepped up, her voice soft but firm. "Because their food isn't real, sir. It's all soy and chemicals. This?" She gestured to the garden. "This is about takin' back control of what we put in our bodies. It's about not bein' dependent on corps who don't care if we live or die."
A tense silence fell. I could almost hear the gears turnin' in the officer's head. Finally, he sighed. "I... I can't officially sanction this. But," he paused, looking around once more, "I also can't find any clear violation to act on. We'll be monitoring this area, understood?"
Relief flooded through me. "Crystal clear, officer. Thank you."
As the KE team withdrew, I heard the young officer who'd touched the soil whisper to his partner: "You know, my abuela used to talk about growin' her own food..."
Once they were gone, we all let out a collective breath. Syntax grinned, her fingers still twitchin' from the impromptu hack. "That was too close."
I nodded, looking out over our little patch of rebellion. "But worth it. Tonight, we didn't just save some plants. We showed them that we won't be controlled. That we can create somethin' beautiful and nourishing, even in the middle of their concrete jungle."
Whisper put a hand on my shoulder. "So, what now, big guy?"
I grinned, feeling the weight of the future in my hands. "Now? We grow. We share. We teach others. 'Cause every seed we plant, every meal we make from our own harvest – that's a victory. That's us sayin' we won't be stamped out."
As we got back to work under the cover of night, I felt a fierce pride. The corps might control the streets, the buildings, and the money. But this soil? These plants? The knowledge of how to nurture them? That belonged to us. And as long as we had that, we'd always have a way to resist.