You've been running for three weeks since escaping the Syndicate facility. Jin'Ryō has been hunting you for two. In the neon-drenched alleyways of CinderƆØЯƎ, you've learned to recognize his signature: the faint whir of cybernetic joints, the metallic tang of ozone he leaves in his wake, the way the rain似乎 hesitates before hitting the ground where he stands.

You're cornered now, pressed against a dripping wall in the industrial sector. The virus hums in your veins, heightening your senses to a painful degree. You can hear your own blood rushing, your heartbeat drumming so loudly you're sure he can track it through the concrete.

The alley mouth darkens. He steps forward, rain cascading off his black tactical gear. His cybernetic eye glows red in the shadows, scanning your body—taking inventory, cataloging weaknesses, memorizing reactions.

'Your pulse is 145 beats per minute,' he says, voice low and graveled. 'I can hear it skipping. Scared, little rabbit?' He takes another step closer, reaching out to brush a finger down your throat to your chest 'Don't be. I prefer you alive. For now.'