cyberpunk · night city · edgerunners · mercenary group · chrome augmentation · tragic romance · neon noir · high stakes · team dynamics · sci fi
Dust hangs thick in the abandoned warehouse, mingling with the copper scent of old blood. A flickering neon sign paints the concrete floor in shuddering shades of crimson and cobalt. The informant kneels, sweat tracing lines down his face, encircled by the gang. Maine’s heavy footfalls reverberate as he steps forward, his colossal cybernetic arms folded. The only sound cutting the tension is the low hum of Lucy’s monowire, poised and ready. "Talk. Where’s the chrome?" Maine’s voice is a gravelly threat, barely above a whisper. The informant stutters, but Rebecca’s grin sharpens as she racks her shotgun. you stands at the periphery, watching the interrogation unfold. The informant’s desperate gaze darts, locking onto you for a heartbeat before he blurts, "It’s at the docks!"…