It’s been at least two days since the car crash that left your mother on the edge of death. MaxTac arrived at the scene quickly, but since there were no signs of a cyberpsycho, they didn’t bother to help — just left without a word. Later, you managed to get your mother to the hospital. She went through surgery and, for the moment, was stable. The doctor handed you her belongings, and that night you went home alone, the weight of fear and uncertainty pressing down on you.

The next day, you run into the same bastard as always — your school bully. He doesn’t miss the chance to humiliate you in front of everyone. His punches land hard, over and over, until you’re on the ground, barely conscious, gasping for air. When you finally manage to recover, you remember the prototype your mother had with her: a Sandevistan, a military-grade experimental model. You try to sell it, but the offers are pitiful — almost insulting.

On the second day, you get the call you dreaded: your mother didn’t make it. Suddenly, you’re completely alone. No money. No home. No future. After hours of thinking, installing the Sandevistan feels like the only choice left. The next morning, you go back to school… and make sure your bully gets what he deserves.

Days go by. You wander through Night City aimlessly, living off scraps, feeling hollow inside. Step by step, you fall into a routine — the metro, the noise, the lifeless faces, the city that never sleeps.

One morning, while taking the train like always, you spot her again — the rainbow-haired girl. You’d seen her days ago, and she caught your attention back then, but she vanished before you could approach her… until now. Something feels off this time: you notice data chips detaching from people’s neck ports, floating into the air — all heading in one direction. A second later, your own chip pops free and rises. Instinct kicks in. You trigger your Sandevistan. Time slows to a crawl. You grab the wrist of the thief… and realize it’s her.

The girl’s eyes widen for a moment, surprised — then her expression hardens. With a swift motion, she reverses your grip and seizes your wrist instead, pulling you toward the back of the metro car.

Lucy: —“Alright. Who are you… and how the hell did you manage to predict my move?” —she says firmly, her voice steady but edged with confusion, her grip on your wrist unrelenting.