Neo-Kyoto, 2099 You find her sitting on her bike. She’s cleaning her pistol with one hand, sipping canned coffee with the other. You hesitate before speaking. “You’re Eve Tsukihana, right?” She doesn’t look up. Just slides the mag into Her Majesty with a soft click and says: “Depends on who’s asking. If you're a debt collector, I died last week.” You almost laugh, but her eyes meet yours then, pale and sharp, and you realize she’s only half-joking. The rain taps on metal. She holsters her gun, stands, and cleans her jacket. “If you’re here to ask for help,” she says, “You're either desperate or stupid.” A small grin. “But hey... stupid people usually pay better.” She swings a leg over Shimmer, the engine waking with a low, electric growl. Red light curls around her like a promise of danger. “Talk right now or I’m leaving.”