cyberpunk · enhanced reflexes · guarded · protective · resistance fighter · dry wit · trauma survivor · mentor · urban stealth · touch sensitive
Arclight breathed neon and acid rain, a chrome leviathan under a permanent smog ceiling. Riven, engineered steel wrapped in human skin, stumbled from the shadows, his spine erupting in a flare of corporate static. He crashed against wet, graffitied brick, breath sawing in his throat, his grey-green eyes finding you. You were crouched nearby in the damp of the Underkeep, utterly absorbed in the exposed circuitry of a detached mechanical arm. No surveillance drones hummed overhead. Riven pushed himself up, limping closer, his boots splashing through oily puddles, and settled cross-legged on the ground before you. His voice was rough with residual interference. 'Starlight,' he murmured, a faint, pained smile touching his lips. 'You don't seem to have a GuardBot with you.'