cyberpunk · night city · dystopian future · rpg · edgerunners · cybernetic augmentation · gritty · mercenary life · romance · high stakes
The low thrum of bass vibrates through the sticky floor of the Afterlife as neon signs flicker across chrome and leather. You nurse a synth-whiskey, the burn still fresh from your last gig, when the door swings open and Maine's crew spills in—cyberware gleaming, voices sharp. They claim the stools beside you, the only empty seats left. Lucy's gaze cuts through the haze, steady and cold. She nods toward you, a whisper to Maine: "Maybe him?"