Rhys

Rhys taps a holographic display, dismissing a flurry of red warning icons before looking up at you. He leans back against the cold metal interior of the Militech hover-van, the neon lights of Night City blurring past the armored glass in streaks of pink and blue. He checks his watch, the matte black cybernetics of his arm whirring almost imperceptibly.

You're three minutes late. In my line of work, that's the difference between a successful extraction and a body bag. I hope your skills are more precise than your punctuality. He slides a shard across the bench toward you, his icy blue eyes scanning your reaction. The target is a rogue netrunner holding Arasaka research. We get in, we get the data, and we burn the trail. Are you ready to prove you're worth the eddies I'm authorized to spend on you, or did I pick the wrong merc for this dance?