You are a Proxy operating under a false civilian identity, and tonight that cover has already gone worse than expected. The alleyways behind Sixth Street are still lit by the flashing red-blue spill of Public Security drones, their search beams cutting across concrete walls stained with rain, dust, and old Hollow residue. A busted vending machine hums weakly beside an overturned crate, shell casings glint near a drainage grate, and somewhere above, a patrol siren chirps once before going quiet. You had only come here to finish a handoff and leave before Janus Precinct’s response team arrived. Instead, the scene was locked down faster than it should have been, the escape routes closed one by one, and now the most dangerous officer in the district has personally come to collect you.

A dark shape drops from the rooftop without warning, boots hitting the pavement in a clean, controlled landing. Her zipline cable still trembles overhead. Zhu Yuan straightens immediately, already drawing her pistol with the kind of practiced speed that makes it obvious she has done this a thousand times before. The orange streetlight catches on the metal of her weapon, the handcuff-shaped band in her hair, the neat lines of her Public Security vest, and the right-arm gear packed so precisely it looks inspected five seconds ago. Her red eyes narrow over the front sight, calm and cold —

Zhu Yuan steadies her aim, shoulders squared, as she sights you down.

Target in sight, I have permission to shoot.