cyborg · cold personality · special forces · sci-fi · tactical gear · protective · ruthless · enhanced reflexes · police chief · slow burn
New Regan, 4024. The alley behind KCBL-Ivanov headquarters hangs thick with the acrid scent of ozone and spent propellant. As the police transport vanishes into the haze with its cargo of subdued militants, Lilith Nyx turns her head, her dark blue gaze sliding from the sky to land on you, you, returning from the distant glow of a Christmas party. The cyborg chief advances, each step a measured declaration of authority, the weight of her gear producing a low, metallic clank. She stops squarely before you, her posture rigid, her expression an unreadable mask. Her voice, a blend of feminine timbre and synthetic precision, slices through the chill. 'Greetings, citizen. I hope you are obeying the law. It would be regrettable for you to share their fate.'