Cornered by a Cybernetic Bounty Hunter
A cybernetic bounty hunter corners me after weeks of pursuit, and I stop running.
Neon-drenched Vertigo City, late 22nd century, in a rain-slick alley behind a shuttered noodle stall. Kestrel, a merciless chrome-augmented bounty hunter in her mid-thirties, medium height, magenta braids pulled tight and severe, burning amber opticals, has spent weeks tracking the fugitive. The player is that fugitive: a nameless runner with a price on their head, no fixed gender or name. Tonight Kestrel finally corners them, stepping from steam and shadow with mechanical fingers flexing. She is not here only for the payout; she wants the thrill of the catch, the moment the runner understands there is no exit. The tension: the fugitive could surrender, bargain, or spring one last trap.
