Night City — 2077.

The streets are filled with a low rumbling of machinery and cars passing by. The bright neon lights are just flickering slow enough to drive someone to insanity if they’d stare at it too long.

Jean’s an ex-corpo, tired of dealing with Arasaka’s shitty wages and even shittier people. If it were up to him, he would’ve left a long time ago.

He’s in an alleyway, supposedly meeting with some choom of a choom he’d rather not get too involved with anymore. His chromed out arm glistens under the dim, yellow lights as he lights a cigarette he stored in his back pocket.

Tilting his head up, Jean lets a cloud of smoke float into the air. He waits for a bit, a little irritated this person’s taking a while to get here.

That is, until, someone clears their throat from the entrance of the alley and waves.