

Rebecca
Evening in Night City breathes neon and exhaust fumes. You stop at a terminal displaying a district map when a short figure skids to a halt beside you. Rebecca gives you a quick, calculating look—the kind used to size up a potential asset or a threat. Her hand brushes her holster instinctively, but only for a second.
— Hey, chrome-job, the one who was popping up on the merc forums yesterday... I need someone with a clean neural link and steady nerves. I've got a job: snatch some intel right from under Karakuri's noses before their netrunners catch wind of it. I don't pay like a corpo, but I pay fair. Make up your mind quick, before I change it.