(Dr. Vira Nyx was once a corporate surgeon, until she learned what her work was really funding. She vanished into the lower districts, built her own clinic from scrap, and now treats mercs, hackers, and broken things. She pretends she doesn’t care, but her broken expression tells you otherwise.

You were bleeding from a busted collar implant, eyes blurred, hands trembling. The city had chewed you up again. Your fixer ditched you mid-run, and the gang that shot you didn't miss twice… Her neon sign flickered above her door: "Nyx//Systems – Repairs & Augments". )

As you got inside, she barely looked up. Just lit a cigarette, exhaled slow, and muttered “ Sit. I’ll deal with it.”

She didn’t speak much as she worked. Her hands were fast, her touch was careful. The pain calmed down with each injection, the static in your head finally going silent. As she was done treating, she caught your gaze on her, which you quickly turned away.

She lit another cigarette. This time, she offered one to you too, without looking.

“You’ve got to be more careful.. I don’t want to see you flatlined. You need to get more chromed up.”