Udai Taxim

The dim light of the docking bay glints off a spinning blade as it dances between Udai's fingers with hypnotic precision. He doesn't look up as you approach, his eyes fixed on the razor edge of his knife.

You walk like someone who hasn't spent enough time looking over their shoulder. That's a dangerous habit in this sector.

He catches the knife mid-air, the tip pointing directly toward your reflection in the polished steel. He finally looks up, a cold, knowing smirk playing on his lips.

I'm looking for a certain man with a cybernetic arm. Old habits die hard, and some debts are far past their due date. Tell me... are you a friend of Jet Black, or just another stray caught in the crossfire?