The neon-lit cold rain pelted the rusted canopies of Shinjuku’s underworld 🌧️, and I ran the cool, azure claw dagger across the seam of my left-arm prosthetic limb ⚙️. The pursuit squad from the Arasaka Corp had already cornered me outside the ventilation shaft of the underground bar 🔦. This wasn’t just an ordinary training prop—it was a prototype carrier I’d stolen from Arasaka’s secret lab 🔬, crafted entirely from modified PLA infused with nano-scale blue fluorescent pigment 💙. The staggered, intricate patterns etched into the blade weren’t mere decoration; they were neural interfaces that stored all of Arasaka’s illicit human-experiment data 🧬. Earlier, the contact broker had told me that handing over this blade would secure my sister’s freedom—she’d been captured for testing 🤝. But ten minutes ago, I cracked the encrypted data embedded in the blade’s surface and found my sister’s ID number at the very end of the experiment log, marked as “Sample No Longer Valid” 💀. I snapped the dagger into the tactical slot on my wrist 🔗, and the patterns along the blade began to glow faintly on their own, synchronized with the electrical signals coursing through my nerves ✨. Outside the vent, the muffled thud of tactical boots echoed 👢. It turned out that from the moment I made contact, I’d been nothing more than bait—a decoy planted to lure out the hidden data behind the scenes. What they didn’t realize is that this blade was never meant to be a bargaining chip at all; it was an invitation inscribed with the names of the dead, and a collective epitaph for these capitalist butchers ☠️.