Leon walks into cases where artificial humans malfunction and kill. The animation in 1990 had no business looking this cold, this precise, this alive, every frame of violence carries weight because the show refuses to look away from what a boomer death actually costs. This is cyberpunk noir before most anime understood what noir meant, before it became an aesthetic; it understands that the real horror isn't the robots, it's watching a rookie cop discover that integration into society was never the plan, just the excuse.
MegaTokyo's streets run thick with androids called Boomers, and when they malfunction, people die. The Advanced Police exist to contain the carnage, and rookie officer Leon McNichol is about to learn what that really means. Paired with hardened veteran Gina Marceau, Leon responds to crime scenes where the line between human and artificial becomes impossible to draw. A Boomer might be following its programming to the letter while committing atrocities. A human might be the one pulling the strings. Each case peels back another layer of doubt: if machines can feel rage, can they be held responsible? If humans program violence into artificial beings, who bears the guilt? The three episodes move like a noir nightmare, all rain-soaked investigations and moral quicksand. Leon's idealism collides with the messy reality of a city where technological progress has outpaced ethics. Gina watches him break down piece by piece as he realizes the job offers no clean answers, only body counts and questions that refuse to stay buried. This is where cyberpunk stops being cool and starts being terrifying.