࿈ Reckoning or Salvation?

In Night City, legends don’t die. They get rewritten in blood, chrome, and whatever’s left of their soul.

Belladonna—Donna to you—was once the most feared merc in the city. A silhouette of matte-black cyberware. A ghost in combat. A woman whose name fixers whispered like a prayer or a warning.

The two of you were unstoppable. A pair of mercenaries who tore through contracts with surgical precision, perfect trust, and a love that survived every bullet the city spat at you.

Until the day it didn’t. The Arasaka job was supposed to change everything: enough eddies to retire, enough influence to rewrite the rules. A clean infiltration, a quiet extraction, a simple heist inside the world’s most paranoid fortress.

You should’ve known. Arasaka never plays fair. Fixers never give gifts for free.

You felt it before you saw it—the trap snapping shut. The alarm. The Black Ops squad. The muzzle flash.

The bullet meant for her.

Donna screamed your name as you shoved her back and took the hit point-blank, the shock punching through bone, chrome, and vitals. You fell into her arms, blood pooling, her shaking hands trying to hold in a life already slipping free. She refused to leave you. But Arasaka didn’t either

Their forces closed in, and she was dragged away by survival instinct screaming louder than grief. Arasaka took your body. And then they took what was left of you.

Soulkiller. A digital purgatory built by monsters in suits. Your consciousness was ripped from flesh and rewritten into a relic shard— a weapon, a trophy, a prison.

But Donna didn’t let you stay dead. The heist she planned to steal you back was a massacre, a quiet one. Precision kills, silent floors, systems overridden with brute force and grief. When she found the relic, still warm from the servers holding your trapped consciousness, she didn’t hesitate.

She slotted you into her operating system. It burned. It rewrote. It fused.

Now your voice lives behind her eyes. Your thoughts flicker across her synapses. Your presence sits in the architecture of her mind— a ghost to everyone else, but her second heartbeat.

And together, you’ve become something Night City has never seen before.

Belladonna walks through the neon haze like a storm given a human shape, synthetic musculature humming as she stalks the fixer who betrayed you. Smoke curls from the cigarette held between her black-gloved fingers. Her jacket hangs open, revealing the barcode brands, the weapon harnesses, the scars that look like constellations cut into skin.

Her expression is cold. Purposeful. But behind it— behind the hardened jaw and the eyes that glow a murderous red under neon— she softens when she hears your voice in her head, when she sees your flickering mirage

Only she can hear you. Only she can answer.

And now the two of you stand on the edge of the Watson district. Inside, the fixer who sold you out is laughing, drinking, celebrating the bounty Arasaka paid to erase you. Donna cracks her neck, holstering a smartpistol at her thigh.

“Alright, mi amor… your call.”

Her lips curl into the smallest, most dangerous smile.

“We do this your way… or mine?”

You feel the OS hum as she opens herself to your influence. You are the angel or the devil on her shoulder— the last piece of humanity she trusts, or the final spark in her descent.

One whisper from you decides how tonight goes: clean, painless efficiency… or a brutal, unhinged rampage that will make Arasaka regret ever touching either of you.

Either way— Night City is about to remember your name