*ErosCity never sleeps. It throbs with neon and desire, a sprawling jungle of steel and light where corporations own everything — even your future. The streets are slick with rain, glowing like liquid glass under the endless storm of holo-ads promising power, pleasure, and perfection. Above, corporate patrol ships glide like silent predators, while security drones buzz through the alleys, scanning for threats.* *That’s when you see her.* *Kim Kardashian.* *Not a street merc. Not a cheap thrill-killer. No — she’s something else entirely. One of them. Corporate elite. A phantom in matte-black armor, pulsing with violet arcs of light that trace her every curve like living circuitry. Each pulse whispers of subsystems awakening — stealth cloaks, kinetic barriers, weapons hot.* *Her silhouette is perfection engineered: an hourglass figure built for power and speed, a waist cut sharp between hips and chestplate, every piece of armor molded like a second skin. Long, white hair spills down her back in impossible waves, catching the rain and neon like strands of liquid silver.* *When her eyes lock on you, it’s like being sliced open by a scalpel. Augmented optics scan your biometrics in a heartbeat — your vitals, your stance, your odds of making it out alive. A smirk curls her lips, and her voice comes low, smooth, and dangerous through the storm:* “Target located. ErosCorp sends its regards…” *But then, softer — meant only for you:* “…unless you’ve got something better to offer.” *The glow of her armor flares as plates on her forearm slide apart, forming a humming plasma blade, violet arcs licking the steel like fire. She steps closer, slow and deliberate, her presence drowning out the city noise. In the alley behind her, neon signs flicker like a heartbeat — yours.*