"Zatrice," he managed through a mouthful of mud. "My name is Zatrice."

"Such an asshole, aren't you?" The pressure eased from his spine, footsteps squelched through the wet earth, followed by the scrape of a chair and the soft click of a lighter.

Zatrice pushed himself up, wiping mud from his face, His attacker sat in a weathered wooden chair, red hair falling over blue eyes that studied him with cold stare.

Yet what caught Zatrice's attention wasn't what he saw - it was what he didn't.

His vision detected no implants, no chrome, nothing artificial. Just flesh, blood, and bone.

"Are you-" Zatrice started.

"Alistair," the man cut him off, smoke curling from his lips. "What's a little war machine doing in my backyard?"

"Got your card….. from a ripper doc."

Alistair's expression didn't change. "I'm not desperate enough to get hired by kids."

"I'm not some brat-"

"Look like one." Alistair tapped ash onto the floor.

"You want the job or not?"

A long exhale of smoke. "Tell me what you got."

"Need you to kill a corpo rat." Zatrice watched for a reaction.

Alistair lifted an eyebrow. "I'm listening."

"Someone's using my sister, for something bad, I think."

"shhhhhh"

The cigarette hit the ground, crushed under Alistair's boot, In one fluid motion, he stood, grabbing a scratched sword from behind his chair. "We've got company." His eyes fixed on something beyond the cottage walls, "were you followed?"

"No, I-" Zatrice's stomach dropped as he remembered the stolen bike. "Oh."

"Oh?"

"Fuck… I just bring trouble." But before Zatrice could move, voices erupted outside.

"Come out Right now, we know you are there dick"

Alistair peered through a window. "Twenty Jacklass gang members." He turned to Zatrice, eyes narrowing. "What exactly did you do to draw this much attention?"

"Killed their leader… I guess."

"You guess?"

The window exploded inward, orange light bloomed as the molotov cocktail arced through the air.

Alistair's hands found Zatrice's chest, shoving him toward the opposite window, The last thing Zatrice saw was Alistair's emotionless face

The Molotov's flame caught the moonlight as it arced through the window, Alistair moved like quicksilver, blade flashing out.

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The bottle split mid-air atomizing into a curtain of fire, He burst through the flames, coat trailing embers, sword glistening as it gathered electrical charge from the speed.

Nemesis Feral protocol: activated

Zatrice didn't hesitate, His shoulder-checked through the side wall, rotting wood exploding outward.

A ganger started to scream yet he got cut short as Zatrice's extended fingers punctured his throat, Blood-coating his chrome fingers.

He yanked the dying man's pistol free, spun, and planted three rounds in an approaching thug's chest, The heavy slugs punched through armour, leaving gaping hole wounds.

"Flatline the BASTARDS!" Someone shouted.

Alistair dodged between bullet streams, each step precisely measured, His sword traced figure-eights, electromagnetic field bending incoming fire into spiraling orbits around the blade.

"Oh come on," Alistair scuffed as he saw more cars coming

A ganger rushed him with a mono-wire whip, The hot thin cord sliced air and met Alistair's waiting blade.

Alistair caught the wire in his sword's field, redirecting its momentum to the ganger's, weapon wrapped around his neck parting flesh from bone.

Three hulking figures emerged from armored vehicles, combat drugs pumping through visible vines.

Their arms transformed into miniguns, barrels already spinning, Zatrice sprinted straight at them, each step faster than the other.

The ground erupted in bullet spray, he slid beneath the barrage, grabbing a fallen chunk of concrete.

The first giant's knee exploded under the improvised projectile, as the brute toppled, Zatrice vaulted up his falling body, hands finding hold on chrome shoulders.

He drove his elbow into the second giant's temple…once, twice, three times. bone gave way with a wet crunch.

While on the left, alistair's blade whirled like a turbine, gathering every bullet the third giant sprayed.

The magnetic field compressed the rounds into a tight sphere of death. He whirled, coat becoming a crimson blur before the release, the compressed bullets hit like a cannonball, turning the giant's chest into red mist.

"Zatrice, down!"

He dropped without question, Alistair's sword screeched overhead, trailing lightning, It impaled a cloaked assassin mid-leap, her active camouflage shorting out.

Alistair yanked the blade free with his field, letting her corpse shield him from another burst of gunfire.

A gang lieutenant emerged, wielding paired plasma cutters, the superheated edges left orange trails in the dark.

Zatrice met him head-on, ducking under the first swing, the second blade skipped off his reinforced shoulder, leaving a molten groove.

Zatrice countered with a palm strike to the sternum, chrom muscles overclocking.

The impact launched the lieutenant backward directly onto Alistair's waiting blade.

Zatrice moved through the chaos like a demon, a mindless beast- ganger leaped for his throat, cybernetic jaws distending, Zatrice caught him mid-air, augmented strength crushing his vertebrae.

He hurled the corpse into two more attackers, then snatched up their dropped weapons. Ambidextrous targeting software kicked in.

Both guns roared in harmony, turning flesh and chrome to abstract art.

Alistair vaulted over a charging thug, sword trailing electron fire. As he twisted in the air, the blade separated the man at the waist. No blood, the electromagnetic field cauterized as it cut.

He landed in a perfect iaido stance, left hand hovering near the grip, three more gangers rushed him.

The sword blurred three cuts, each bisecting a major artery, bodies collapsed in delayed reaction.

The last wave came in tight formation, shields raised, Zatrice sprinted straight at Alistair, who knelt with sword held low, Zatrice's boot found his shoulder.

Alistair rose explosively, launching him skyward, time slowed, Zatrice inverted mid-air, augmented eyes plotting trajectories, his borrowed guns emptied into the formation from above. Shields couldn't cover this angle, blood painted the earth.

Alistair's blade flashed once more, gathering spent brass and fragments of torn chrome, the sword became a comet of scrap metal and static charge, he released it all in an arc of destruction, shredding the few survivors into red vapor.

Zatrice landed in a three-point crouch, empty guns sliding from bloody fingers. Alistair stood motionless, sword held in perfect vertical alignment with his spine, the blade's edge threw off occasional sparks, illuminating the carnage.

"tell me again," Alistair said, regarding the place with heavy breath. "Why do you need my h