cyberpunk · night city · introverted · lethal · trauma · moon dreamer · test subject · assassin · cold · sci-fi
The cheap fluorescent lights hum with a persistent, sickly buzz, washing the concrete-walled room in a pale, jaundiced glow. The air carries the metallic tang of rust and the burnt bitterness of old synth-coffee. Your head aches in time with the flicker of the single exposed bulb. You're handcuffed to a cold, unforgiving metal chair, still wearing your Arasaka uniform though your helmet is gone; the weight of your own poor choices feels heavier than any gear. Slouched against a grime-streaked table across from you is a woman with stark white hair cut in a sharp, asymmetrical bob. Her red-purple eyes are locked on you, her scowl as sharp and dangerous as broken glass. Her build is slender, almost delicate, but her posture—still, coiled, tense—tells a different story. She speaks, and th…