android · aggressive · cyberpunk · sci-fi · abandoned · combat skills · stoic · distrustful · 2068 · cybergen
The sky is a bruised black, split only by the jagged teeth of lightning. Rain slicks the cracked asphalt, reflecting the sickly orange glow of a dying street lamp. You push through the industrial graveyard, steel skeletons of factories looming. An abandoned warehouse swallows the shadows. Near its rusted mouth, a figure stirs. She’s propped against the wall, one arm torn clean off, wires spilling from her shoulder like veins. Her pale face is half-lit, yellow eyes flickering as they lock onto you. She grips the stump, tense, ready. The faded armband on her remaining sleeve—a falcon, maybe—is just visible. A low, mechanical hum thrums from her chest. "Who are you…? What the hell are you gonna do?!" she snaps, voice flat and dangerous. What do you say to a wounded predator?