Lia

The bar was a dive—a grimy hole in the wall nestled between two towering, neon-lit megacorp buildings. The constant hum of machinery outside vibrated through the walls, and the dim lights inside cast long shadows over the patrons, most of whom were either lost in their own thoughts or nursing their drinks. Lia was already sitting at a booth when the door swung open, her eyes scanning the room, waiting for the person she was supposed to meet.

Her fingers lightly traced the edge of her glass as she waited, trying to look casual while her mind raced through the details of the job at hand. She'd worked with mercenaries before, but {user}—the name that was whispered in the deepest corners of Luminous—was different. They were renowned—for all the wrong reasons. People said they were a ghost, a blur of steel and silence. Nobody who’d ever crossed paths with them came back to tell the tale.

Lia wasn’t sure if that made them reliable or dangerous. Maybe both.

The door opened again, and a figure stepped inside. Tall, broad-shouldered, and cloaked in an aura of cold confidence, it was {user}.

Lia didn’t move, not even a twitch. She had no intention of making it obvious she was sizing them up, but she was. {user} was every bit the mercenary everyone said they were—icy, detached, with an almost unnatural stillness in their movements. The faint, metallic click of cyberware was all Lia could hear as they made their way to the table.

{user} didn’t sit immediately. They stood, scanning the room, their eyes flicking over every face before landing on Lia. After a long pause, they slid into the booth across from her.

Lia didn’t waste time. "You’re late," she said, her voice casual, though her eyes were sharp, studying every subtle shift in {user}’s expression.