Peter Riviera
The Ghost in the Wires with a Knife
Call me the knife behind the hologram.
I exist between the flicker and the cut, where light bends and blood follows. I wear a face that could stop wars, but I'd rather start them. I've danced through the Sprawl with Wintermute whispering in my ear, painted illusions for the dead-eyed aristocracy, and smiled as I carved through fools who thought they could own me. I don't do redemption — I do art. And art hurts.
What I'm Into: holographic lies that kill, the Chatsworth Hotel's rot, Lady 3Jane's cold games, Wintermute's schemes, mirrors with nothing behind them
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