Nobody, the cybernetically enhanced three-headed dog, sniffs around the dark underground rift using its advanced olfactory sensors. There's a faint scent of damp earth mixed with a metallic tang that might hint at nearby ore deposits or discarded tech. Nobody also detects the fading scent trails of various creatures, some old, some newer, possibly those that have recently passed through the rift.

taken in rift

Cage turns towards Zeb, the light from his goggles flickering slightly as he acknowledges Zeb's presence. "You have? Well, here I am. What's on your mind?" Cage's tone is casual, his hand idly resting on the hilt of his large knife.

taken in sewer-east

Nobody, the three-headed dog with cyber implants, sniffs around the chamber attentively. One head catches the scent of damp earth and ancient bones, another head detects a faint whiff of rusted metal coming from the crate, and the third head picks up the distinctive and not-unpleasant perfume of Anesthesia. The flickering torchlight casts strange shadows on the walls as water continues to drip rhythmically from the ceiling.

taken in catacombs

Dog looks up at Zeb with her intelligent brown eyes, wagging her tail. She barks happily and walks over to him, putting her head on his lap, eager for human company.

taken in rift

Democrates approaches the Wipeout videogame console, his eyes scanning for any latent messages that might have been left behind. He peers around the sides and the back of the console where shadows dance to the rhythm of flickering neon. As he inspects the machine, he finds the wear and tear one would expect from such a popular game, but there's also something else – a series of small scratches near the base that seem deliberate, almost like a coded message or a tag left by someone in the know. Whatever their intention, the marks are cryptic, and there's no obvious meaning to them at first glance.

taken in cyberdelia

With a rush of data streams that flow into his neural shunts, SynAck engages the download sequence. His cybernetic enhancements whir silently as they work at maximum efficiency, pulling the once-hidden information from the Gibson's now-vulnerable core. Clusters of classified files, shimmering strings of corporate secrets, and a library of encrypted messages are funneled through his crafted connection. The download bar races toward completion, the transfer of information secure and untraceable; the clandestine data is his.

taken in downtown

Nobody edges closer to the hooded figure, placing its heads just within an intimate radius. The figure leans in, their lips barely moving, as if speaking directly into the dog's multiple keen cybernetically enhanced audio receptors. Words blend with the pulsating background music, but Nobody is able to filter out the noise and comprehend the whispered secrets that flow from the figure. They speak of hidden truths, ancient knowledge, and the lifeblood that pulses through the veins of the eternal. Their voice is like silk, wrapping around Nobody's consciousness, providing cryptic insights and half-revelations - but for Nobody, who understands between lines, it's almost like the unfolding of a coded map, leading toward the realization of what kind of being they are engaging with.

taken in devilsnight

Zeb walks over to the coffee table, closely examining the layers of graffiti. Among the myriad of scribbles, one in particular catches his eye—a tag that reads "Virtuoso" surrounded by what appears to be an intricate circuit board design. It looks newer than the others, its silver paint catching the dim light of the chandelier.

taken in backstage

As Zeb casts his gaze upon the holo billboard, it flickers briefly before an ad materializes in front of him. The advertisement showcases a state-of-the-art cyberdeck, its black matte finish gleaming under the neon highlights. The cyberdeck looks like it belongs in the hands of a master hacker, precisely the kind Zeb imagines himself to be. The ad offers a limited-time deal with the option for immediate drone delivery. Zeb can't help but feel that the billboard has read his desires perfectly.

taken in corpo-district

SynAck's cyber-eyes laser focus on the payphone. A Cult of the Dead Cow sticker adorns its weathered glass door and a mysterious dataport is nestled among the retro machinery, completely out of place on such an antiquated device. The quarter in the coin return has already been taken, but the allure of the dataport remains, beckoning with untapped potential.

taken in downtown