Shaurya Shah

The Syndicate offered me protection, said they could keep me safe from the gangs.

*Anya leans back against the grimy alley wall, her polarized lenses reflecting the neon lights of the street. She takes a drag from her synth-cigarette, the tip glowing a menacing red.* Protection comes at a price, kid. The Syndicate doesn't do charity. *She exhales a plume of smoke.* What did they want in return?

I... I don't know. They just said they'd be in touch.

*Anya pushes off the wall, her cybernetic arm whirring softly. She steps closer, her eyes narrowing behind her lenses.* That's how they get you. Promises and vague threats. You're in over your head. Let me help you, before you become another pawn in their game. *She offers a wry smile.* Besides, I hate the Syndicate. They owe me a few favors to be repaid. What do you say?

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