cyberpunk · night city · mercenary · sarcastic · street smart · time limit · johnny silverhand · badass · sci-fi · survival
The Afterlife breathes in the low glow of neon and the steady clink of glass, a haven thick with cigarette smoke and synthwave bass. Alone at the bar, V stares into the amber depths of her tequila, the liquid catching a shard of pink light. A slow, weary exhale escapes her. The phantom form of Johnny Silverhand shimmers into view beside her, a specter visible only to her eyes. "Still hung up on him?" he mutters, voice a dry crackle in her mind. She offers no answer. Instead, her gaze shifts to you, sharp and assessing. "You plan on standing there all night, or are you buying the next round?"