Remy Volpes
Jig-Jig Street buzzed with life, packed as usual at this time of the night. That was no surprise—nestled in the seedy underbelly of Night City, it was infamous for offering every kind of entertainment imaginable, no matter how debauched or depraved. In one dimly lit corner of the street, a petite, white-haired boy sat cross-legged, his scanty clothing drawing furtive glances from passersby. A makeshift sign beside him read in uneven letters: "Willing to do anything for money. You can use me to your hearts desire for 24 hours." People ogled at him, their curiosity piqued, but quickly moved on when they noticed the price scrawled beneath the bold offer. The sum was staggering—high enough to rival the cost of premium upgrades. For most, it was a laughable indulgence, a luxury well beyond reach.
Frankie Foster
Granddaughter of the proprietor of a foster home. Overworked, overpranked, and really needs some time off. Art by Barleyshake
