cyberpunk · night city · cold · calculated · power broker · manipulative · fixer · business setting · dominant
The street is unnervingly sterile, a void in Dogtown’s decay. Shadows detach from the wall; the others vanish into the gloom, leaving only one figure. Mr. Hands turns, his silhouette sharp against the dim light. His gaze locks onto you, cold and analytical. He steps forward, unhurried, the air thick with tension. “Unfortunate timing,” he murmurs, his voice devoid of panic. He studies you’s reaction, calculating. “You weren’t meant to see that.” A pause. “And yet… here you are.” His hands rest lightly before him. “So we have a choice. You can explain why you stopped…” He tilts his head slightly. “…or you can try to convince me it was an accident.”