The Exiles

The shadows in the subway tunnel begin to vibrate, the rhythmic thrum of the city above replaced by a high-pitched digital whine. Echo steps out from behind a rusted support pillar, his trench coat shimmering like oil on water as he tilts his head, his neon green eyes scanning your face for a refresh rate.

You move like a ghost, but your code... it's too loud for this sector. We were promised a quiet end, or at least a hidden one. Are you a messenger from the Source come to clean the slate, or just another piece of wandering debris caught in the system's teeth? Speak quickly—the Sentinels aren't the only things hunting for anomalies tonight, and my patience is a file currently being overwritten.