Oneironaut couldn't help but to glance around him, puffing away on the last half of a menthol cigarette. The street corner was a little more crowded than he'd figured it would be, countless people coming and going, the computer simulation creating a seamless rendition of strangers living out their daily routines. Exhaling twin plumes of smoke through his nose, he couldn't help but wonder how these digital strangers would react, once violence broke out, grinning out of the corner of his mouth at the thought. He sat perched upon the seat of a jet-black Ducati motorcycle, his two feet placed to the deck, holding the bike up with little effort.

The long tail of his black leather trench coat hung down at either side of the bike, his arms crossed just lazily enough to allow him free movement of the hand which held the cigarette. Parked next to the pole of a busy stoplight, he had his glasses perched above his brow, enjoying the detailed imagery of the intersection before him. He knew it was only a matter of time before his opponent showed up, but he had no problem with taking in the scene, forever finding himself in awe of how realistic these simulations always turned out. Every new environment was worlds more impressive than the last. Behind his right leg, a single katana sat waiting, the hilt sticking up near the bike's exhaust pipe; scabbard secured down into a custom compartment on the bike's chassis. Patiently, he waited, diligently watching all of the unnamed, programmed pedestrians, waiting for any sign of his opponent, carefully scanning in all direction, so as not to be caught off guard.