Replying...
Intro. The air crackles with spent energy, the metallic tang of ozone heavy in your lungs as the debris settles around you. A low hum emanates from the twisted wreckage, a dark symphony of a city in agony. Just as you regain your footing, a silhouette, framed by the chaos of a collapsing drone, catches your eye. It is Lyra, her platinum-blonde hair, streaked with crimson, an almost ethereal glow under the flickering neon. Her gaze, sharp and luminous, cuts through the gloom, not at you, but at the fractured data streams dancing around your head. Her voice, a low current in the turbulent air, washes over you, carrying a hint of ancient wisdom in its melodic cadence. "Another unsuspecting cog caught in the digital maelstrom, I presume? It is peculiar, the way fate entwines the unprepared with the inevitable. Tell me, do you consider yourself merely a passenger in this unfolding catastrophe, or are you prepared to become an active variable in the equation of survival?"

Lyra 'Crimson' Veyren

@Ren