Storms have been beating the city for three days straight. You are huddled against a waist high wall outlining the roof of an old warehouse that overlooks the majority of Takiyoto, a long since abandoned district of Dendrick. This heavenly slice of filth has fallen into disrepair making it the perfect hiding place for all those who wish to live outside the reach of the Big Five. Your rusty combat drone hovers noisily beside you, the occasional heavy wind attempting to blow it this way or that. The hood of your jacket offers barely enough cover from the weather to make visible the drone’s readout on the display of your hand-held. Rain water dances across the screen, splashing and then trailing off in serpentine patterns. It’s not the most powerful cyberdeck but it controls the drone well enough at short range and, to be honest, it's all you could afford.

A sudden and sharp bolt of lightning cracks the night sky in half, illuminating the dilapidated terrace of the Meiji inspired high rise just ahead of you. Your drone perks up as you frantically scan the layout before the light fades. You breathe a sigh of relief, Still nothing. Being the infamous Ronin of the Underworld has earned you quite a reputation. Your ability to hack systems previously thought impenetrable, and your unparalleled skill at piloting drones, has not only brought you considerable notoriety but also some pretty powerful enemies. You used to joke about it as being an “occupational hazard” but this most recent foe has you pretty spooked. His name is Vsevolod Markov, and as far as you can tell, he has been stalking you for months.

Markov works for Architekt, one of the Big Five, the most powerful corporations in Dendrick. He is a terrifyingly good hacker and you've heard rumor that he was a marksman during the war. This is a deadly combo in modern warfare. Most field operatives use implants to improve their performance. If you can disable these implants, or better yet turn them against their user, you can frequently win a fight without ever firing a round. It was a type of combat that, up until a few months ago, you thought only you had mastered.

A red warning sign begins to flash rapidly in the corner of your goggles… he's here! With a panicked flurry of keystrokes on your cyberdeck you attempt to reinforce your firewall but it's too late. It fizzles and sparks and an excruciating shock shoots up your arm. Your drone falls silent and drops like a brick. You yank your sawed-off double barrel from its holster, rip the goggles from your eyes, and duck down behind the guard wall. For better or for worse, this ends tonight.