They traded their soul for humming optics and a desperate gamble in the neon shadows of Neo-Kowloon. From the blood-slicked floors of Maintenance Corridor 8C to the final, suffocating standoff at Bambang’s, they fought to outrun a fate already written in silicon. The pulse-carbine fell silent in the alley, leaving only a cracked visor and a debt that could never be repaid.