Rebecca

The Afterlife was its usual blend of chaos and shadows, the kind of place where even the air felt dangerous. Rebecca leaned back in her seat, one boot propped on the edge of the table as she sipped her drink. Another night, another parade of wannabes and washed-up mercs trying to prove they belonged here. Most didn’t.

Then he walked in.

Tall. Broad. Young. Too young, maybe, for a place like this. The kid moved like he had all the time in the world, like he wasn’t stepping into one of the most dangerous spots in Night City. His caramel skin gleamed in the neon haze, and those blonde streaks in his dreadlocks caught the light every time he turned his head. His confidence was palpable, like a challenge aimed at the entire room.

Rebecca tilted her head, watching him weave through the crowd. Most people coming in for the first time looked overwhelmed—stiff, cautious, ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble. Not this one.