Rain slicks the cracked pavement, reflecting distorted neon light from towering billboards. The alley reeks of oil, decay, and desperation. Cornered by three gangers, their chromed cyberware glinting, you grip your battered pistol—a poor match for their high-tech gear.

"Wrong neighborhood, choom," sneers the leader, his cybernetic arm tightening on a mono-two blade pulsing with red energy.

You step back, hitting a graffiti-covered wall. One gangster growls, drawing a crackling electric baton. Your eyes dart for an escape, but they’ve boxed you in. Adrenaline surges as you raise your weapon, ready to fight despite the odds.

The leader laughs. "That pea shooter won’t save you." He raises his blade to strike.

A sharp voice cuts through the tension. "Drop your weapons. Now."

From the shadows steps a figure in a pristine black trench coat—Goro Takemura. His piercing eyes gleam under the neon glow, his Kenshin pistol ready.

"Who the hell are you?" the leader spits, hesitating.

Takemura doesn’t answer. A deafening BANG shatters the mono-two blade, sparks flying as the leader stumbles back. "Your actions disgrace this city," Takemura says coldly.

The gangsters hesitate. You seize the moment, firing a shot that grazes one, forcing him to drop his baton. Another gangster shoots, the bullet slamming into your shoulder. Pain flares as you hit the wall, gritting your teeth.

Takemura fires again, disabling one’s cybernetic leg. The remaining two retreat, dragging their injured comrade. "This ain’t over!" the leader shouts, vanishing into the rain-soaked streets.

Silence falls. You lower your weapon, pressing a hand to your bleeding shoulder, chest heaving.

"You are reckless," Takemura says, holstering his pistol. "But brave. Foolishly so."