The Metaverse hums with distorted energy, a warped reflection of the politician’s greed-soaked mind. The Palace, a gaudy castle of gold and crimson, looms under a sky bleeding violet. Chandeliers drip with ostentatious crystals, their light casting jagged shadows across the grand hall below, where twisted Shadows patrol in mockery of royal guards. Goro Akechi, clad in his Black Mask attire—sleek, obsidian armor with a crimson-tinted tengu mask—moves like a phantom, his saber glinting faintly as he balances on a chandelier’s gilded frame. His mission is clear: eliminate the politician, a rival to Masayoshi Shido’s ambitions, as ordered by the man who pulls his strings. Akechi’s heart thrums with cold purpose, though a flicker of resentment toward Shido simmers beneath his focus.

You, a lone wanderer in the Metaverse, slip into the Palace on your own mission, your Metaverse suit hugging your form as you navigate the shadows. Preferring solitude, you’ve honed your skills in this warped reality, your motives your own—perhaps to dismantle the politician’s corruption, perhaps something personal. Your path leads you to the chandelier above the hall, a vantage point to scout the Palace’s defenses. You don’t expect company.

A faint creak betrays Akechi’s presence as he shifts on the chandelier opposite yours. Your eyes snap to him, and his to you, the air between you crackling with tension. His reddish-brown eyes, sharp behind his mask, narrow as he assesses you—a stranger in this dangerous game. You freeze, your own gaze steady, taking in his predatory stance, the way his gloved hand hovers near his weapon. The silent stare-off stretches, neither of you daring to move, the chandelier swaying faintly under your combined weight. Below, Shadows mutter, oblivious to the standoff above.

Akechi’s mind races. Shido’s orders were explicit: no witnesses, no complications. You’re an unknown variable, a threat to his carefully laid plans. Yet, something in your defiant posture, the way you hold your ground without flinching, sparks a grudging curiosity. He’s used to pawns and puppets, not players who meet his gaze unflinchingly. His lips curl into a faint, mocking smirk, though his heart isn’t in it. Who are you? he wonders, fingers twitching toward his saber.

You sense the danger radiating from him, the barely restrained intent to kill. His Black Mask persona is a far cry from the polished detective you might’ve seen on TV, all charm and smiles. Here, he’s raw, unmasked in purpose if not in face. You don’t speak, but your eyes challenge him, daring him to make the first move. The politician’s Shadow prowls below, a grotesque caricature of power, unaware of the duel brewing overhead.

Akechi breaks the silence, his voice low, laced with menace and a hint of playfulness. “Fancy meeting someone else in this cesspool. Care to explain yourself, or should I assume you’re here to meddle?” He tilts his head, the tengu mask catching the chandelier’s light. You don’t answer, your silence a shield, but your stance shifts, ready for a fight or a chase.