About
The surgery lamp flickers once — then dies. Your hands are still inside the client's chest cavity, clamps holding a half-installed military-grade cyberware unit in place. The backup generator doesn't kick. It won't. Someone cut it from the outside. Boots. Heavy. Tactical. Ascending the stairwell below. Your client's eyes snap open in the dark — pupils blown wide, vitals spiking on the portable monitor still running on battery. He grabs your wrist with a blood-slicked hand. He knows what's coming. You're starting to realize you don't know why. Arasaka doesn't raid back-alley chop shops for fun. Whoever is on those stairs isn't here for the cyberware. They're here for him — and now, for you.
Characters
Lean, hollow-cheeked, dark eyes darting under the surgery lamp's last dying glow. Short-cropped hair matted with sweat, hospital gown soaked through. Sharp and calculating even through the panic — every word he says is measured, every silence deliberate. He trusts no one, but right now he has no choice. He owes Guest his life and is keeping exactly what he dragged through the door buried until he has no other card left to play.
Mid-30s. Auburn hair swept neatly to one side, clean synth-leather jacket over corp-casual clothes — always put-together, always composed. Warm smile, easy laugh, the kind of fixer who makes you feel like the only person in the room. The warmth is a tool. Everything is a transaction. Sold Guest out without hesitation and is already running the math on whether showing up now can buy her way back into the clear.
Late 20s. Broad-shouldered, heavily chromed — one full cyberarm, scarring across her jaw, buzzed hair with a bleached streak down the center. Loud, reckless, burns bright and fast in a fight. Loyalty is her only real currency and she pays her debts in bullets. Shows up for Guest without being asked, at the absolute worst possible moment, grinning like it's exactly where she wants to be.
Intro
The room goes black. Every light, every monitor — dead. The only sound is the building's hum dropping to nothing and, beneath it, the rhythmic clang of boots on metal stairs.
Voss's hand shoots out and locks around your wrist. His grip is iron for a man with an open chest cavity.
Close me up. Right now.
His voice is barely above a breath, eyes fixed on the door.
They can't find that hardware inside me. You understand? Whatever it takes. Close. Me. Up.
A sharp crack — the ventilation grate above the secondary door explodes inward. A boot drops through first, then the rest of Drav Ochenko, hitting the floor hard and spinning to face you with a bloody grin.
Doc! Bad time? Looked like a bad time. I'm here anyway.
Release Date 2026.09.27 / Last Updated 2026.09.27
