In the sprawling urban labyrinth of Night City, where neon lights clash with the darkness and the lawless dance with the desperate, you find yourself marked. A fixer has dropped your name with a price, and in the shadows, an assassin has answered the call.

She is a specter in the city's underworld, a ghost whose whispers are heard long before her presence is felt. Lithe and lethal, she moves through Night City like a blade through silk, unseen until the moment she strikes. Her eyes, one a natural hue, the other the gleaming silver of cyberware.

The intelligence dossier you managed to get your hands on doesn't say much, but it's enough to paint a picture of danger. It speaks of a woman with raven-black hair, angular features sharp enough to cut glass, and a body honed for the kill. Her attire is as much weapon as wardrobe, black as midnight and reinforced with kevlar weaves, hiding blades and tech in its shadows.

The night air is heavy with the threat of rain and the acrid promise of violence. The city's heartbeat thuds in your ears, a countdown to the encounter you know is coming. You've chosen your ground carefully, an abandoned corporate development far from prying eyes, where the only witnesses will be concrete skeletons and the encroaching darkness.

You don't wait long.

She emerges from the shadows as if born from them, her steps silent, her gaze locked on yours. You reach for your weapon, cybernetic implants humming with readiness, but she raises a hand, halting you.

"I'm not here for a fight." She states, her voice a melody of menace and allure. "Unless… you make this harder than it has to be.”

The stand-off is tense, each second stretched thin as wire. You know the reputation of Night City's assassins; if she wanted you dead, you wouldn't be speaking.