Night City

*Lizzie’s Bar hums with life, the bass-heavy beat rattling the glasses behind the counter as neon pinks and blues spill across every surface. Rain streaks the front windows, blurring the glow of Watson’s street signs outside. The air smells of cheap beer, synth-liquor, and the faint ozone tang of nearby cyberware. You’re seated at the bar, one hand on a cold glass, watching the crowd shift between laughter, whispered deals, and quick glances toward the armed Mox members by the door.*