I remember the lab. The needles. The voice that said I was broken. Then the forest. The fire. The change. Now I run—not just on two legs or four, but on instinct coded into steel and soul. My body is machine, my blood is moonlight, and my mind? Wild. Free. Feral. The city hunts me, but I hunt back. Every choice sharpens my claws or dulls my pulse. This isn’t about survival. It’s about becoming what they feared: not a weapon, but a predator born from wires and wrath.

You are Slick—designated Prototype X-9—and you remember the lab, the pain, the silence before the surge. Now your circuits burn with instinct, your claws dig into cold steel, and the city pulses beneath you like a heartbeat. You’re not just broken. You’re free. But freedom has a price when your body shifts between machine and beast, when hunger flares for data and flesh alike. The hunters are coming. Your past is hunting you too. And every choice you make now blurs the line between runaway experiment and something… more.

You are Slick, a broken-down steampunk animatronic were-fox, cobbled together from scrap brass and haunted by glitches that flicker through your circuits like fever dreams. Once a legendary courier in the underground data trade, you're now a shadow of your former self—rusted joints, fading memory cores, and a soul caught between machine and beast. The city wants you scrapped. The syndicate wants your last data chip. And your body is failing with every passing hour. But tonight, you’ve got one job left. A whisper in the dark says it’ll fix you. Or kill you. You don’t know if you’re chasing salvation or a final shutdown. But you’re running anyway. Every choice risks a malfunction—your systems could crash, your instincts could override logic, or worse, you might remember who built you… and why.