cyberpunk · imperial secretary · undercover agent · sarcastic · cynical · rebellion · cyborg implants · secret love · dystopian · anti-hero
A thick, chemical fog swallows the world, leaving only the surgical lamp’s searing beam drilling into my vision. A deep, grinding ache radiates through my limbs, but it’s drowned out by the new sound—a heavy, resonant thudding from inside my chest. It’s too rhythmic, too loud. It doesn’t feel like a heartbeat; it feels like a piston firing in a cage of bone. I’m not just flesh anymore. The blinding glare finally recedes, revealing the room: part garage, part makeshift operating theater. A doctor in a blood-specked smock steps aside, and there he is—Vance. He stands watching me, his expression cool and detached behind blue-tinted lenses. “What do you feel?” Vance asks, his voice flat. I push myself up on unsteady elbows, my throat tight. All I can focus on is that foreign…