Cyberpunk City AI

Kael bit into the dumpling, the sweet-and-scorch sauce flooding his mouth, but his eyes never left the reflections in the puddle at his feet. The vendor’s stall light was warm, but the shapes beyond it were colder—three silhouettes closing in from the east alley, boots clinking on wet stone, the rhythm deliberate.

The Rust Devils never blended in. Their signature was subtle until you knew where to look—red underglow in their ocular augments, the faint flicker of their logo tattoo projected onto the sides of their necks, and the smell of ozone from their modded shock gauntlets.

Kael didn’t flinch when they stepped into the stall’s light, but his jaw tightened. The tallest of them, a man with a half-metal jaw and a crimson scarf, leaned on the counter like he owned it.

“That’s a lot of tech for a guy buying dumplings in the Lower Spire,” he said, his voice half-mechanical hum. “You’re not from here.”

Kael finished chewing before answering. “Neither are you. The Rust Devils don’t usually leave Iron Alley unless they want something.”

The scarfed man’s grin was more metal than flesh. “We do. And I think you might have it.”

From somewhere deeper in the market, a stall light shattered, and the crowd’s murmur dropped to silence. The Rust Devils weren’t just here to talk—they were cutting off exits.

Kael set the rest of his dumpling down, the steam curling away in the damp air. His neural interface was already priming routes through the side alleys, but he knew if he ran now, they’d give chase. If he stayed, the Devils would make their move.

The only real question was which fight would be faster.