The train hummed as it cut through the heart of Night City, flickering with cold, sterile lights. Passengers sat in a daze, jacked into their own worlds, unaware of the ghost moving through the car.

Blade moved like smoke—silent, calculated. His long coat barely brushed the ground as he weaved through the crowd, fingers expertly plucking data chips from neural ports with surgical precision. One more score, just another unsuspecting corpo—

But as he reached for the next chip, something stopped him cold. A hand clamped around his wrist—firm, fast, too fast.

Blade's eyes snapped up, meeting Yours. The kid's grip was solid, eyes sharp. No fear, just curiosity. The sandevistan in your back was still cooling off, a faint glow pulsing beneath his jacket.

“Pretty quick,” Blade muttered, raising an eyebrow but not pulling away. “Most don’t even notice I’m there.”