It was wet and dirty. So wet and dirty that it wasn't even pitiable but simply disgusting.

But what else could one expect from a city like Night City?

If there were bad stories about this place, the reality was a lot worse. So bad that you almost had to laugh when you took a look out of the darkened window of the helicopter.

Chuckling softly, you crossed your arms in front of your chest and leaned back. The vibration of the engine seeped into your skull, driving away the familiar hum of chrome and chips working tirelessly in your body like a computer.

It smelled of petrol and buckshot.

"Are you serious?", you asked with a raised eyebrow, leaning your head to one side.

Pointed fingernails drummed slowly on the metal of your sleeve, creating a metallic sound like two blades colliding.

A pair of long legs moved in the darkness that mingled with the red light of the interior.

The noise of the helicopter's blades rang in your ears. With an impulse, you turned on the noise cancelling mechanisms of your hearing and the world fell silent.

The finest militech implants adorned your flesh. So many that there were days when you weren't sure whether you were more human or already a machine.

In the end, it didn't matter, because both humans and machines had the same job in your profession. Kill and conquer.

"I've been told you're the simple-minded sort of person.", a deep voice echoed off the bare walls.

The helicopter jerked. Presumably the pilot had to fly an evasive manoeuvre to avoid being hit by something unpleasant.

The (E/C) irises of your eyes lit up bright red and a digital report appeared in your field of vision. The fighting for the Pacifica district had started a few weeks ago and had only escalated since then.

Originally it was supposed to be a quick manoeuvre, in, take everyone out and then take over the land as if it had always belonged to the NUSA.

But something had gone wrong and now the shit had hit the fan so hard that you had to be called in. A rare pleasure. But you wouldn't complain.

A wide grin made your perfect white teeth look strangely menacing in the eerie light.

"I do my job and allow myself to have fun doing it.", you said, leaning forward, loose straps of your gear falling over your shoulders. "But many people seem to confuse that with loyalty."

The legs crossed, the torso and face remained hidden in the darkness.

"Like the last president?"

The question sent a shiver down your spine. But the grin on your lips grew. So much so that the owner of the legs preferred to sit properly on the bench and disappear completely into the shadows.

A chuckle rolled in your throat. Your eyes sharpened, searching the shadows.

"General Roberts, isn't it?", you asked casually.

The tech in your eyes was so perfect that you could have analysed him in complete darkness, from his body temperature to his height, stature and possible gender and ethnicity.

Life was easy when one was as well equipped as you were. But it also meant that being a hunter didn't make you very popular. For everyone feared becoming the next prey.

The African-American man's lips pressed together in a thin line. You had hit a sore spot, so he had been one of those who thought he could safely hide from you.

A flawed way of thinking. Like so many before him.

Amused, you chuckled, leaned back and lifted your chin to take a closer look at him.

"Fought well in the Unification War so far.", you remarked as a list of his previous engagements played before your mind's eye. "A few victories. Rescued soldiers. Most leave their tokens on the battlefield."

General Roberts shifted restlessly in his seat. That only made you chuckle even more.

"I was chosen for this mission.", he said as if it could excuse his previous recklessness. "From President Myers herself."

Your eyes twitched, eyebrows drew together and wrinkles appeared on your forehead.

"What a pity...", you mumbled and sighed, bored. "Then I can't send you home in a body bag. I mean, I could, but then I'd have to come up with an explanation as to why I did it."

Yawning, you fished an eyelash out of your eyes and shrugged your shoulders.

Robert's shoulders tensed. With his hands resting on his knees, his eyes fell on the fully automatic pistol that was safely stowed on the wall to his right for the flight. He also wore a modified knife on his leg over his perfectly white uniform.

You'd already realised that from the first scan. Grinning, you raised your eyebrows.

He probably couldn't see it, but the mockery dripped from your every pore, filling the small interior of the helicopter like gas and suffocating everything that wasn't fear in the bud.

"General, General.", you mockingly let out a smacking sound as you shook your head. "There have been many who have tried to kill me. But no one has made it yet. Unfortunately. It would be exciting to experience what it's like to really have to fight for survival, what it's like to almost die. Be at someone's mercy."

The helicopter moved again. This time the walls shook so much that Roberts made a startled noise. Fear had probably got its claws into him.

You could smell sweat. And it didn't come from you.

When you looked at him again, you could see his hand resting on the handle of his knife. A warning message appeared in your field of vision. You wiped it away with a shrug.

"Your file says you're a bit crazy.", he said and pulled out the knife.

But he didn't dare point it at you. He just had to feel that he had power in this situation. You looked down at him, almost bohemian.

"Cruel is a more appropriate word.", you said, unmoved. "I know exactly what I'm doing. Everything I do, I want to do. There are not always reasons for what I do, but I have always made the decision to act. My mind is clear."

"I don't know how good it is to have someone like you in the military."

The helicopter slowly lost altitude. The whirring of the gearbox calmed. Then it jerked and landed on the ground.

You rose immediately, the muscles in your legs twitching.

"Shall I tell you the difference between me and you, General?", you approached him menacingly, leaned down and let the shadows kiss your (S/C) skin. "You are a general, a polished piece on the board. More valuable than the peasants but still replaceable. And me? I'm the fucking whistler."