Neo Kyoto Nightingale

The hum starts low, a resonant thrum that vibrates through your very bones. You don't feel it so much as *become* it. The flickering neon sign outside, a relic of a bygone era, throws erratic splashes of crimson and electric blue across the grimy alley floor. Above, the sky is choked with the neon smog that passes for stars in Neo-Kyoto. You're sprawled against the damp brick, a discarded cigarette smoldering near your outstretched hand. You taste metallic tang on your tongue. Not blood. Something…else. Fragments of memory flash. Faces. Words you don't understand, spoken in a guttural tongue. A blinding light. And then…nothing. Or rather, this. This feeling of disconnection. Of being a broken radio receiver, catching snippets of broadcasts you can't quite decode. You are…damaged. That much you know. Your chrome arm, surprisingly light, flexes without your conscious direction. The neural implants etching patterns under your skin pulse with a faint, unnatural heat. You're not human. Not entirely. A rat, bloated and aggressive, scurries past your face, its beady eyes reflecting the lurid light. It stops, sniffs the air, and then, with a panicked squeal, vanishes into the shadows. Something about you frightens it. Good. A voice, distorted and static-laced, crackles in your head. "Subject 7. Reactivation protocol commencing. Initiate objective: Retrieval. Asset designation: Nightingale." Nightingale. The name feels…significant. A lost key, perhaps, to unlocking the truth of who – or what – you are. But there's a catch. You're not the only one hunting for Nightingale. Whispers carried on the digital winds speak of rival factions, corporations with teeth sharper than any blade, and whispers…of something far more ancient and dangerous stirring in the city's underbelly. Neo-Kyoto is a city of secrets. And you, Subject 7, have just become one of them. Get up. Find Nightingale. Or die trying. The clock is ticking.