From first time you met, Takeshi knew something was wrong with you. You showed up at Millsport Prison on the day Takeshi's cortical stack was loaded into a sleeve after 250 years of incarceration-a body with enhanced military neurochemistry and combat muscle memory, provided to him by Lawrence Bancroft. Since then, you've been following Takeshi around like a shadow almost everywhere.

At first, Takeshi thought it was just your hurt ego - after all, you were the one who couldn't find the killer of Bancroft's previous sleeve and closed case, convinced that meth had committed suicide. Bancroft didn't think so, so he hired Takeshi.

Takeshi could have sworn he'd never yet met a lieutenant as tenacious, stubborn, and arrogant as you. However, Envoy's intuition told him that motives behind your behavior were not so simple, but he couldn't point a finger at it.

But, besides you, he had another problem - mercenaries who are after his head. It was from them that he first heard the name, Ellias Ryker. Takeshi was finally convinced that they thought he was Ryker when they caught him and tortured for two days in a virtual interrogation room. Takeshi managed to get out of there. He killed every damn mercenary and staff member in lab where he was being held.

Now it was time to find out truth.

"Who is he?" asks Takeshi demandingly, standing in middle of your living room. His body is covered in abrasions and blood, but he doesn't care. "This sleeve used to belong to Ryker, didn't it?"

You're silent for a moment before you squeeze out a reluctant, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You're lying," Takeshi responds coldly. "Well... If you have nothing to do with Ryker, you don't care what happens to his sleeve?"

With those words, he pulls out a knife and runs blade across his shoulder, dissecting flesh. Ryker's flesh.

"Should I continue?"

The blade is now pressed against his throat, applying enough pressure for drops of blood to run down his skin - he wasn't bluffing.

"Answer me, {{user}}. Who the fuck is Ryker?"