Cyberpunk 2077 Forum Short Story Competition

[Rawls]

Calling all our creative Choombas out there! We're having a short story competition for forum users this month, so get ready to show us your style! The prize: a unique "Wordrunner" Forum Rank for five finalists, and additionally a poster of a chosen style from CDPR for the overall winner.

A few ground rules:

1. Each participating language sub-forum will have their own competition. All submissions must be in the appropriate language for the sub-forum to be considered.

2. Only story submissions will be considered on topic in this thread, for discussion, please use the separate discussion thread.

3. Stories have to be set in Night City, California in the year 2077.

4. The short story has to fit within 1 forum post (25,000 characters max) ... it can be as short as you want, but no longer than 1 forum post.

5. In keeping with the forums rules, it is prohibited to:

• place any commercial offers or advertisements in forum posts​
• ridicule other users, post content which insults individuals or social groups, or spoil (in a broad sense) the fun of other users​
• post pornographic content​
• post and/or discuss unpublished content from CDPR’s products, or other information/content obtained from leaks or data-mining without CDPR’s permission​

6. Persons working/volunteering with CDPR cannot participate.

7. Stories must be submitted by 23:59 CET on July 26, 2020 to be considered eligible.

8. If there are more than five entries for the language sub-forum, the moderators will discuss the contenders and then announce five finalists for voting by the members of the forum. We're looking for Cyberpunk, so remember: style over substance; attitude is everything; take it to the edge. Each of the selected top five will receive the "Wordrunner" unique forum rank (for ultimate bragging rights) in place until at least August 1, 2021 unless specifically requested by the user to be removed earlier.

9. Forum members will act as Final round of judges. The finalists will be announced on August 2, 2020 with a poll for voting by members of the forum. Final round voting ends at 23:59 on CET August 9, 2020. The overall winner from each region will be announced on August 10, 2020 and receive not only the unique "Wordrunner" rank, but also a poster of a chosen style from CDPR (for example, the poster above)!

FULL RULES CAN BE FOUND HERE: https://cdn-l-mkt.cdprojektred.com/document/Rules-EN_296f3csp5nm0iyrh.pdf

OTHER LANGUAGES: Polski/Polish; Deutsch/German; Portugues brasileiro/Brazilian Portuguese; русский/Russian; francais/French

 

[ITheBonless]

I’ve been here many times before......the back alleys of night city, the smell of piss and blood slowly creep into your skin gripping you until your blue in the face

“Fuck” I mumble.

Am stumbling like an idiot, something has been pulling at my leg for a while now.

I don’t need to look back, I know what it is... it’s the metal in my leg.

I drag my hand across my forehead thinking all touch the sweat that’s been burning my eyes but am not that lucky, this is not sweat this is red and thick, so much of it is coming out but I think I can make...3 more seconds 2 more seconds.....

I let my self fall to my keens then my stomach but I never take my eyes away from the little light that’s left at the end of the alley.

“I see them”

I can feel them getting closer and closer, I begin laughing...first silently to my self then lauder and lauder until am almost screaming! I let them take me.

I can see the doors to the AV open.......it’s the trauma team.

 

[Bottleblonde]

The Fixer and the Nomad

I silence my bike and take in the nights menagerie just a quarter of a mile outside of Night City. The air is cooler at night; one would find this hard to believe if you were not from the bad lands. I look up and watch as two lights lazily make their approach detaching themselves from the sky before joining the circle of light, like a halo, surrounding the skyline. I know why I sit here taking my vigil as I remove my dusty goggles and my leather creaks as I sit in a more comfortable position. My mind drifts to her.

I was scouting near the city when I heard the shots. I lay my bike down behind a tuffed hillock and made my approach on foot. I see an air vehicle surrounded by six men and two dark spiky vehicles. They have a prisoner at gun point while two of their number search the air car. The men seem fidgety and frantic. They are Nomads but I cannot see their colors in the dark even with the city illuminating the backdrop. "Where is it?" one shouts, his voice carries over the sound of the air car's engine and he slams the butt of his rifle into his prisoner's back. I hear a woman cry out in pain.

The woman reared up and said something lost in the noise and the man shoved her back down angrily. He stepped around her and grabbed her by the hair yanking her head back and he placed the barrel of his rifle between her shoulder blades. Black tears streamed down her face as her eyes closed in pain and her mouth was clenched in a rictus. I could now see a body laid out behind one of the other men, possibly the woman's body guard. I had to act fast as I know how this story would end.

There is no way I can handle six men; I inch away and formulate a plan. The Nomad's would not kill her until they figured out if she was worth something to someone and the clock was ticking. I head back to my bike and launch my armed drone. With the silence of a moth my drone takes flight--it looks like a miniature Aerodyne and I had built it from a child's toy. I named it Cicada as I had modeled it after the Militech AV-23. It had one purpose and that purpose was to deliver an incendiary payload to a targeted location.

Eight hundred meters to the south I had spotted a vehicle and with some regret I sent my drone towards it; I had wanted to scavenge it for parts. The highways were dotted with rusted out, scavenged vehicles that had run out of fuel or had been the victim of some gang's attack. Some of the best finds came from abandoned vehicles and I grimaced as I watched my drone, through the HUD, make its final approach--Target Acquired, read the display and I reluctantly deployed.

The night sky lit up brilliantly as the vehicle exploded and there was a woooom sound as debris began to fall like metal rain but I was already moving. My drone returned to me as one of the Nomad vehicles drove right passed me. I hopped on my bike and with my head lamp off I gunned it for the air car.

Shit! There were still three of them left! Two of them were still digging through the air car while the other one stood over the kneeling woman. I drove right at him and pulled my shotgun. It was the woman who noticed me first and she drove her shoulder into his gut making him stumble back into the side of her vehicle. I skidded to a stop and fired blindly, once at the wide eyed man outside the vehicle and once into the open door of the air car. The woman was now standing and she hopped onto the back of my bike wrapping her arms around my waist. Dirt sprayed as I gunned it out of there heading west with shots ringing out behind me. I noticed in passing on the remaining car the word Wraiths depicted with a skull. Double shit!

 

[Ramzah]

"Detective Paul Reed, Homicide Division NCPD." The detective flashed his badge to the officer blocking the alley behind the restaurant who promptly stepped aside.
"Cyborg Suppression Unit just left the perimeter, the perpetrator was terminated behind the restaurant dumpster but he managed to kill a dozen civilians before he was.."
The radio in the officer's hand flashed red signaling an incoming communication from HQ, distracting him from the conversation.
"Carlos, hurry up or i'm leaving you here!"
Paul shouted behind himself where a fat figure emerged from his car to promptly join him striding along the alley, the cop blocking the way gave them one last quick glance and casually went back to his business on the radio.

"What's the hurry Paul? Corpses aren't going to suddenly get up and run away, is something troubling you?"
"Maybe.. If my hunch is right we don't have much time so shut up and listen: I need you to buy me as much time as possible, okay?"
Carlos's sweaty hand grabbed Paul's shoulder to try and stop him.
"What are you talking about!? Buy time for what, with who!?"
"Anyone who might be coming this way, trust me on this one, partner."
The stench of blood finally invaded their nostrils, both of them knew they were close, and the view was going to be anything but pleasant.
Paul's left hand started shaking and he inadvertently grasped his wrist in an effort to calm himself. An old injury from his days in Beat Patrol that often acted up when he was nervous or excited. He was both this time.

Carlos's retching suddenly brought Paul back to reality, the poor fellow was panting and gagging while holding a hand to his mouth.
"Sorry amigo, i don't think i'll ever get used to this smell, i honestly don't know how you manage.. I'll wait here if you don't mind?"
Paul smiled to his friend realizing this was what kept him on the ground as a human being, human reactions to inhuman situations, a luxury he lost a long time ago when he decided to move to the homicide division.
"Sure amigo, i'll be going ahead then."

The corpse was lying on the concrete, a big hole in the dumpster and his chest suggested a considerable caliber was used to dispatch of him from behind his cover.
Various mutilated corpses were splattered all over the walls of the alley, same old story as in the newspaper: Cyberpsycho goes berserk, kills a dozen people, police shuts him down, case closed.
Except this time was different. First and foremost, the gentleman on the ground didn't had nearly enough modifications done to his body to induce a cyberpsychosis, the rest would be revealed by Paul's optical scanner: distinct purple streaks from the corpse's nostrils and ears under IR, Arasaka's ripper hand (looked like an old model) and spike heel implants. A hasty research revelead the body to be that of Mike Rodriguez, ex Arasaka security division's employee.

"Game over detective Reed, i am taking over this case, please get out of MY crime scene."
A lanky man with a tie more expensive than most of Paul's wardrobe pushed him aside while a group of cops started securing the area and collecting evidence.
"If it isn't detective Harryson from the mighty special investigations unit! Your diligence in cleaning crime scenes right after i start my investigation is astonishing." Paul stared at him defiantly and insisted.
"Did you know the last five cases of cyberpsychosis you stole from me were all ex Arasaka employees?"
Harryson rushed towards Paul and stopped an inch from his face, his eyes reduced to a slit.
"Detective Reed... I hope for your own damn good you haven't been snooping around in my files or we're gonna have a problem, if you think the worst that can happen to you is going to traffic patrol you are sorely mistaken.. Are we clear?!"
All of a sudden Paul felt someone pulling him from under his arm and he involuntarily gasped, the friendly face behind that grip thankfully put him at ease.
"Hey Paul, HQ called they want us to report right now" muttered Carlos from under a napkin pressed to his nose.
Paul let himself get dragged by his partner out of the alley without turning around, feeling Harryson's eyes burning on his back.

"Paul, mi amigo, you have to be careful, you know what happens if you cross the special investigations unit? You become little people"
Paul couldn't help but let out a chuckle.
"Really? 'little people'? 2020 called, they want their jokes back."
"You know what i mean, they have been getting funds left and right lately, cross them and you are in for a world of hurt"
Carlos stared at Paul for a moment, sincerely preoccupied.
"Did you at least find out something? Was your hunch right?"

Paul got on his car passenger's seat and gazed outside the window contemplating the neons of the Watson District.
"I did, i suspect this is all a big coverup for some shady shit Arasaka is doing to their ex employees, maybe experimenting some new drug? Getting rid of uncomfortable people? I don't even know at this point man, but one thing's for sure.."
Carlos's smile slowly turned into a frown and he asked hesitantly,
"..What?"
"Detective Paul is on the case, and they don't know what's coming.."

The car suddenly stopped and Paul felt a sharp stabbing pain in his throat.
"Sorry amigo, but you are the one who doesn't know shit about what's coming.."
Instead of words, a gush of blood came out of Paul's tightened lips, another shot from Carlos's gun and the detective leaned over for a final rest on the car's window as blood pooled to his feet.
Carlos nervously took the phone out of his pocket and put it to his ear.
"Mr. Fujioka? It's done. Nobody will disturb your business anymore, can i still count on that house for my daughter up in Westbrook? Yes.. Thank you mr. Fujioka.. Yes, thank you.. Goodbye."
Carlos's phone hit the floor with a muffled thud, as he cowered over the steering wheel to cry his eyes out in the shade of night city's neons.

 

[KingRevolt]

A Night City Drive
By: Quincy Smith

It's not often that you hear of people wanting to move to Night City. I mean, you've all heard the stories, right?

From the megacorporations that hold more sway than your local dictator, to the crazy murder clowns that lurk in the crevices of NCs West Hill Community. This place is absolutely filled to the brim with darkness and chaos. I don’t expect to make this visit a long one,I’d hate to postpone my book longer than I have to after all, but the number of people willing to shed light on the reality of this world grows smaller by the day.

The moment I get off of my flight I have the same realization that’s occurred to me time, and time again. I have absolutely no clue where to begin my research. So, after checking the time, six o’clock. I decide to call a cab, and head to my temporary place of residency, a run down motel in the heart of Watson, one of the six main districts that exist within this grotesque machine of noise, gang violence, and corporate intrigue.

I wake up roughly half an hour later to the sound of my cabbie still rambling about “those corporate fucks.” He’s a handsome guy who looks to be in his late 40s, but he’s obviously lived a little as I take note of his distinctly graying hair, and cybernetic hand. Feeling awkward for analyzing my chauffeur I add “yeah man, it seems the same anywhere you go nowadays, doesn’t it?” I dismissively grumble mostly to myself. Noting the fading sleepy in my voice, as our still nameless cabbie looks at me for the first time before pushing on the gas a bit more, and yelling “ain’t that da truth brotha! These fuckin’ mooks continue you to fuck over us little guys... Well guess what friend? After I retire, I’m hoppin’ on a boat, and sailing as far away from this tech-filled hell as possible! With the wife of course.” he offers with a chuckle.

Despite his suddenly jovial demeanor I can feel the passion in his voice. He meant every word he just said. “Is it that bad? I mean, on the bright side you get to meet new people everyday, obviously it’s not all good, but I wouldn’t mind meeting the occasional joygirl?” We look at one another, “On second thought maybe not” I add as my companion shakes his head in amusement.

“I do think there’s a certain beauty to all the chaos though” I shift in my surprisingly sterile, brown-leather seat, “It’s just that in my travels I have never quite seen a place like Night City? The city itself is like a beating heart” the cabbie chuckles. “I suppose there’s some truth to that. I’ve seen enough to know that there are just some things better left as they are, with no explanation or insight” he glances at his hand before turning off of the highway, and into the inner city.

After going back, and forth about the general do’s and don’ts of NC we pull into the surprisingly empty parking lot of my motel. I rifle through my wallet ignoring my very outdated plastic ID , and hand my rambunctious cabbie his allotted funds, plus a hefty chunk of eddies before he counts it. His jaw drops as he turns to me with a sly smile, and says “you must not be from around here…” his voice trailing off before I realize his smile has elicited a much more emotional look than either of us anticipated. “No. I’m actually from out of town… er look, I can get out already if you’re not feeling too well, man?” Letting the words fall out of my mouth more than anything!

“Nah… it’s just that you’re the first person in a long time that has had a real conversation with me instead of jackin' into whateva the newest BD is. It may seem insignificant, but it’ll be nice to take my wife out for the first time since the cities went to shit!” He pauses. “What the fuck am I sayin’ the cities always been shit!” We both laugh, but as the laughter dies his face turns grim, and he grips my shoulder “Look, kid. I don’t need to know your business, and I really don’t care to know. This city swallows anyone foolish enough to dip their little guppy toes in, and decides to make waves. The name is Enzo, I know you aren’t here for long, but I’d hate to see this city swallow you too, friend so, just gimme a call if you’re in a pinch, or wanna head to a local dive, and discuss the finer points of societal downfall!” It takes a second for his word’s to sink in, but I register the gravity of his words only to offer my own “yeah, thanks a lot Enzo, I appreciate the ride, and everything, that said, I don’t want to be a burden on you…” I offer. “Don’t worry, I’m not some sap, it’s just that you remind my son. He thought he was a burden too… Anyway, I have a few more jobs to do before my shift is up, I’ll see ya after I go home and smack the ol’ lady around a few times…?” Ashamed I never offered my name, I spit out an embarrassed “Virgil, Virgil McChristian, but everyone just calls me ‘V.”​

 

[Ambergeddon]

"Wrong move, choomba", a calm voice says from somewhere behind me as I feel cool metal pressed against the back of my head. Now you may be asking yourself how did I get here, that is a complicated question, let's start at the beginning.

My name is Alice Sinclair and I'm a private investigator. It isn't the most glorious job in the world but few things are in Night City and it pays the bills. The day in question was like any other, I was going through some past cases looking for a connection when suddenly my door flies open and through it came a woman who almost instantly bursts into tears.

I met her a few feet into the room and helped her get seated, after a few minutes she was calm enough to speak. "My brother, he's missing! You have to find him, please!" Her words came out in broken sobs "He's all I have left, I can't lose him!". Another missing person, that was 6 in as many months, there had to be a connection but I just wasn't seeing it.

I smiled and assured her I would do my best to find her brother, took her details and called her a taxi home. Looking over the other missing persons I just couldn't see a connection, I called an old contact from the NCPD. "Ally, it's been awhile" he greeted me in his usual gruff tone. "I know Jack, I have a stack of cases and I'm stumped, can we meet up?" "Sure" he responded tersely "the usual place, 1300 hours"

The usual place, a small burger joint where we used to go when we were younger, dumber and in love. It had been so long I barely even remembered it, but once I started driving it came back to me, almost like riding a bike. Jack was already there as I arrived, impatiently leaning against his patrol car. "You're late" he said as I walked towards him "traffic, you know how it is" I responded, giving him a small smile.

He let out a chuckle under his breath "same old Ally, you'd be late to your own funeral" I flashed him another smile "and don't you forget it". We took a seat and ordered, Jack broke the silence first, "Tell me about the cases, what has you so stumped?" I take a folder out of my jacket and place it on the table before sliding it towards him. He looks at me for a moment then down at the envelope, he opens it up and silently reads through them then returns them back to the envelope and slides it back to me.

He looks down at the table for what feels like an eternity, "I can't help you" he says, not even looking up. "What, why not!?" I respond, loud enough to draw the attention of a few other patrons. "Just drop it, please Ally". "Why? People are missing, possibly dead! I can't just abandon them". He stands up silently and walks over leaning down and giving me a hug, slipping something in my pocket before standing back up, "it was nice catching up with you" he said before turning and leaving.

I watched him leave and returned to my car soon after finding a man sitting on the hood, we locked eyes as I approached him. "Alice Sinclair?" he said, his smooth voice almost instantly calming my nerves, "yes, and you are?" I responded a little confused with the whole situation. The man smiled "I'm an acquaintance of Jack's, I'm guessing by your long face he wasn't much help. Always a stick in the mud that one."

"How did you kno-" I began to ask before he cut me off, "you haven't been very subtle in your investigation my dear, but I'm willing to help if you'll hear me out." I was suspicious of course but I didn't have many leads so I was going to take all the help I could get. "Alright, spill it" I said, unable to hide the suspicious edge to my voice "Not here, who knows who is listening, there is a factory nearby where some of the boys meet up, it should be safe to speak there."

"A factory, really?" I said, almost scoffing at how preposterous it was, "why didn't you just say an abandoned hospital?" He smirked "that is our next stop" I sighed and shook my head, it was obviously a trap but if there was a chance to save those people I had to take it. "Alright, give me the address" I muttered "Why dont you check your pocket?" the man said with a chuckle before walking away.

"Ooookay", I flopped into my car and dug out the piece of paper, I unfolded it and sure enough there was an address on it. How the hell did that guy know that? This was getting stranger by the second. I sighed again and shrugged to no one in particular before putting the address in my GPS, it was my only lead I had to follow it. It was about an hour before I finally arrived, there were already two other vehicles there and I parked nearby.

I took in the view of the factory as I approached it, it was a massive mill used to turn waste and other products into cheap, low quality rations. The grinding sound of machinery put me on edge as the setting sun made the already imposing structure give off a menacing shadow that engulfed everything for miles. I stepped through the massive doors and looked around, the grinding stopped soon after and a sudden silence filled the room.

"Wrong move choomba", a familiar smooth voice said from behind me as I felt cold iron press against the back of my skull. "It was a trap, I knew it!" I groaned as I raised my hands above my head. A quiet chuckle comes from somewhere behind me "and yet, you fell for it anyways, you really are a fool."

"You never should've come here Ally, but I knew you were too stubborn to give up" said another familiar voice. "Jack!" I yelled out trying to look around before feeling the metal press against my skull again. "I'm sorry Ally, I really am." Jack said as he came out of the shadows accompanied by another, a female. "You!" I cried out accusingly towards the woman, who was almost unrecognizable from the sobbing mess that was in my office earlier in the day.

"She is quite an good actress isnt she? You fell for it hook, line and sinker" the smooth voice said almost mockingly. "But why?" I said, barely able to keep my composure at this point, "why pretend that your brother is missing? Why come to me?" "Move" the voice behind me said pressing the gun against my head again, he lead me deeper into the factory and towards one of the grinders. "We dont have to do this Max, please, she doesn't know anything!" Jack said pleadingly. "Don't be a fool, she started to make the connection and that makes her dangerous." The smooth voice replied.

"What connection, what is going on here?" I said still confused by this whole situation, "and what does this have to do with the missing people!?" Another chuckle comes from behind me "everything, my dear, but you just had to stick your nose where it doesn't belong and now you are involved too" the smoothness was almost gone replaced by rage, I hear the shifting of something metallic and the grinding noise starts again, much louder this time. "Max, pleas-" Jack once again tried to plead but is cut off as the gun shifts from the back of my head towards him. "Shut up! Or do you wish to back out of your end of the deal? And for what, this stupid girl?"

Jack falls silent once again and as he does I take my chance and spin around throwing out an elbow at the man only to be met with a sharp pain in my side before I can make contact. I look over in surprise to see the woman withdrawing a long metal spike from my side back into her arm, I fall to my knees and look back up only to be face to face with a revolver. "You really should've minded your own business, all of this could've been avoided" the man said with a sneer "did you ever wonder why the NCPD never touched these cases? Why they remained unsolved? Foolish girl"

I was too weak to respond I simply looked up at him and then towards Jack, "hey, Jack..." I said, barely above whisper "I hope it was worth it" the words barely left my mouth before being followed with a violent coughing of blood. "Don't be too mad at him my dear, none of this would have had to happen had you just kept finding stray cats or cheating spouses or whatever it was before you decided to get in my business." And with that said the man kicked me in the chest sending me back towards the grinder, too weak to keep my balance I tumble inside.

As I descend down the chute to my certain demise I brush against a necklace that had seemingly caught on a piece of jagged metal, one last thought rings though my mind "I finally found them."

 

[CyberBrett]

My phone wakes me from a dreamless sleep, a heavy night has left me slow to react.

“What`s up?”

“Hellcat, Rogue here.”

“Hey Rogue. “

“Got a job for you be at the club by 12. “

“Sure see you then.”

I look to the other side of the bed at a cute naked butt and give it a playful slap.

Time to go babe.

I think about the night before. Survivor guilt, nothing makes for a better night of sex than a deadly fire fight.

I watch her collect up her clothes, even with messy bed hair she still looks great. She puts her hand to her ear like a phone and says call me before she leaves. I hit the shower and dress to impress in my signature pink battle suit and black trench coat. My bike roars to life and I think I must look hot with my long blonde hair flowing behind me in the wind.



I reach the Afterlife with 5 minutes to spare. I give Emmerick the bouncer a nod and get one back as I walk in the door. Rogue is in her usual spot and waves me over.

“The job should be easy, some rich Corpo`s Daughter is missing.”

“These things are never easy.”

She ignores my complaint and continues on like I never said a thing.

“She likes to dress down and slums it with the little people but this time she hasn`t come home.”

“Hmmm.”

“Daddy thinks she might be being held against her will.”

Rogue tosses me the chip and I insert it, the playback begins. Daddy’s girl is very pretty, Summer Donavon, 5 foot 7, long black hair and expensive Cyberwear . The possibilities chase each other through my mind. Expensive Cyberwear = Skavs , Pretty = Cyber stalker or just some fool who knew who Summer was .Watson is her first choice to party and she likes BD . The playback ends, I toss the chip back to Rogue before I hit the road.

I cruise Watson looking for my contact, just as I start to think he`s still sleeping somewhere I see Stefan. Most Solo`s don`t rate the Homeless but I know no group sees and knows more about what’s happening on the streets .

“Hey Stef “.
“Hellcat my friend, step into my office.”

We step back into the alley and I give Stefan the chip.

“I have seen this girl before, even bought BD off me but she had a pink bob hair style.”

I reach my wrist out to his and pay the Eddies I know he wants and turn to leave him to contact his circle of informants. The minutes click by so slowly it`s almost painful but eventually Stefan returns.

“She was last seen at Lizzie`s bar. “

“You’re the best Stef. “

I am back on the bike and at Lizzie`s in no time flat. It`s 3pm but the bar is a 24hour operation. I don`t know the Mox bouncer on the door but with the Baseball bat on her shoulders she looks hot. We look each other up and down with hungry eyes but I am on the clock with no time to talk. She lets me slip right past her and I enter the club.

I ask the Bartender for Judy and she flicks her head in the direction of a door. I go through the door and see Judy. I ask myself why all the Mox girls are so hot.

“Hi Judy, how are you?”

“Hellcat, don`t you give Hi Judy you still haven`t paid me the Eddies for the BD at our last meeting”.

“Judy I am on a case right now but I promise you when I get paid i`ll be back with more than I owe you “.

“Girl you have no need for guns with a golden tongue like that, what do you need?”

“A little look at the club camera footage.”

“Evelyn would kill me if she found out….. don`t give me that sad face….. oh you owe me big time”.

It didn`t take too long to find Summer and a huge man taking an interest in her. This man made my friend Jackie look small. I followed them around the club until they left together. Judy offered one of the Moxie`s Hackers and we were able to trace them to a small house not far from the bar.

I was on the doorstep in minutes. I checked my weapons, the automatic in the small of my back, locked and loaded. My gun of choice the Hand Cannon was the one I pulled out to use. This Choomba was the size of one of those extinct Elephants people say lived long ago.

The door wasn`t even locked so I made my way carefully in. I searched room by room until I saw her. She looked like she had been beaten a bit. I made a rookie mistake and went over to her only to find him behind me. He knocked me across the room and I dropped the gun. I went for my spare gun but he crushed the barrel in his hand.

Things look bad, he slapped me in the side of the head . I saw stars and couldn`t hear out of that ear. Grabbing my hair he threw punch after punch in my stomach. I was coughing up blood and down to my last chance he came at me again. I popped out my Mantis Blades and drove them though his head. I was on the floor for 3 to 5 minutes like the add says before trauma Team swooped in to save us both.

The moral of the story is always take back up when tackling huge MFers .

 

[otieleman]

The hunt for Eve.

V didn't like Metaltrom particularly but the booze was cheap and the customers where in a worse state than the furniture and didn't bother him while he tried to forget what happened yesterday.
'Are you V, I'm Tony.'
V looks up and sees a delicate, well dressed young man. He smells like Westbrook. If any of the bars patrons wouldn't have been out of their minds he would be dead in a corner and stripped from all his implants.
'What do you want kid.'
'It's my sister Eve, she is missing.'
Normally the police would be informed in a missing person case but this rabbit hole went probably much deeper than that, so Tony starts to explain that a gang leader gambled his fortune away in his fathers casino. But his gang found out the casino rigged the game.
'So one night she didn't come home and now we fear she is kidnapped...'
'Why isn't you daddy here,' V asks.
Sure, daddy didn't care about her because she always made his life miserable. It didn't help either that she was the daughter of his fifth wife, but he knew she was in trouble and Tony had a lot of eurodollars he wanted to pay up front, so V took the job.
'Last thing I know is that she went to a ripperdoc named Garold as she wanted a new cyberfashion implant.'
'What gang?'
'It was a family gang, Mongard or something,' the kid said.
V new enough, Marco Mongard was a low life piece of crap who owned him still payment from a job he finished for him about a year ago. Only thing he got was a beating and it was time to return the favor.

V never liked the docks, no one does, the smell of the sewers match the decor and the lowlife that called it home. He grabbed a streetpunk who was trying to steel his id-card and asked him where Marco was. It was a tough little bastard so V had to rough him up seriously before he broke, literally. As he squealed, holding his broken arm where a piece of bone stuck out, he nodded in the direction of a pink neon light.
V knocked on the door under the neon sign and a view portal slid open. V stuck his gun inside and hissed he was family and needed to see Marco. The view portal closed but not before he shot the doorman. Due to the suppressor it was a silent shot but he now had to hack his way into the building. It's not that is was an easy hack but they probably had a lot of faith into the doorman as the door slid open and V stepped over the dead corps of a Mongard gang member. As V started to scan the darkened rooms an automated gun started shooting at him. One bullet pierced his shoulder but went clean trough. He shot the machine as he dove behind a wall. This could have gone so much more elegant but it was too late and a full shootout would fill the building until V arrived at a large room that looked much more fitting to be high in the sky than in de lower bowls of the Docks.
'V, stop please!' yelled Marco from behind a large couch, 'lets talk, it's the money, right, you've come for your money.'
That was not the main reason but sure, V wanted his eurodollars.
'I have it, let me get it, it's in the safe behind you!'
Marco slowly stands up, his arms in the air. He was sweating like a priest in a bordello as he pointed with his thick finger at the safe behind him. V moved aside watching his every move but when the safe swung open Marco grabbed a gun and shot at V.
This shot would need more work to heal, extra expenses V didn't need but it was part of the job. After he jumped on Marco and started re-decorating his face he would use a painkiller to get rid of the pain.

V walked trough an apartment complex where ripperdoc Garold ran an illegal clinic. Marco didn't touch Eve and never kidnapped her. He would never do that but before he tried to explain why not V knocked him out. After V got his late payment with some extras he left and went on to the second lead. Maybe Gerald knew where Eve was.
Gerald patched V up as the conversation went to Eve. Yes, she has been to him and bought a very nice and very expensive pleasure implant. Gerald was sure the “white Unicorn” would give her a ton of pleasure as he grinned at V.
'Any idea where she went after?'
'Probably her girlfriend she was going on about. Some poor girl in the Badlands,' Gerald replied.


It would take some camera hacks, a long drive and some asking around but eventually V knocked at the door of an old dilapidated home. As the door opened it revealed a beautiful young woman dressed in a long t-shirt and not much more. As she asked what he wanted she pointed at him with a huge handgun that easily could decapitate him if her trigger finger would move an inch.
'Eve's brother is looking for her, he is worried,' V explained.
Behind the gun-girl Eve appeared.
'I have no brother,' she said, 'who is sending you?'
V explained about Tony who rented his service to find her. She nodded and asked to describe Tony.
'That is my husband,' she said in a dry voice, his name is Roni.'
Eve explained she was forced into an arranged marriage by her father Marco Mongard but I soon found out I was a kind of payment, a trophy bride for Roni who abused her. 'This girl, Lana, is my real love. We met when I was about 14 but felt in love at 17...'

Before she could finish a bunch of cars pulled up to the house and the shooting started.
V and the girls went inside and barricade the door as bullets started to put an alarming amount of holes in the rotten, wooden walls.
'They must have tracked you all the times,' Eve yelled.
'We have to get out of here, back door!' V yelled back.
They ran to the back of the house where Eve's car was parked. She said it was bullet proof and it looked the part. They jumped in and Eve programmed an escape route while the other cars, who clearly where hired by the casino, tailed them trough the desolate landscape. V managed to blow up two cars but Lana topped it with her huge gun and blow up the other five cars.

'We leave for Crystal Palace,' Eve said, 'thank you for not bring me back to Roni.'
'That is alright, sorry I messed up your dad.'
Eve made sure V didn't had to feel sorry for her father as she hated him with a passion.
At home V stared out of the window of his apartment. The neon lights almost made it impossible to see the stars but Christal Palace could be seen in lower orbit. As a shuttle leaves earth he follows it. Longing to get away to a better place.

 

[Triffid77]

There once was a man from Night City,
who's life was quite grim and gritty.
One day he plugged in a chip, unsheathed his mantis tip,
and leered 'Oh Johnny, your hand is so pretty'.

 

[haekafae]

Keep Cool

I was behind the bar. The front door is heavy for a reason. He had to withdraw his other hand from his jacket pocket to get it open. It dazzled in the low light, stealing my attention. The rest of his corpo-suit appeared as his cybernetic hand recoiled back into his pocket out of sight as he entered. I didn’t even have to see his face to hate him already. Fucking corpo trash. He blabbed over his shoulder to his companion, waiting until he got to the bar to make eye contact. I had remind myself to take deep slow breaths to avoid tensing up - all my organic parts screamed to activate, the inorganic ones don’t respond to hateful impulse. I loosened my jaw to cut him off at the pass before he could direct his corpo bullshit in my direction.

Bent at the elbows, I spat, “Listen up, you order, you pay, I serve you, you fuck off.” I scanned his face for any tinge of involuntary movement: his eye brows raised. “Keep that face cool, corpo, or else you’re both going to be leaving this place as inputs.” I growled and crossed my arms. “I’m a man of culture, I know your type, I’ll give you one, as your host. But you get only fucking one.” My finger elaborated on the digit as I straightened.

“I guess ‘service with a smile’ must be too pricey an import for this shitho-”

“That’s your one, shabi. What do you want?” The air from my exhale reminded me to relax my arms. His partner looked away tonguing his cheek in insolence, but he said nothing. It’s part of corpo culture to be snide, I understand. They can’t help it, but it doesn’t mean I’ll take it. I tilted my head at Dazzlehand. His floppy brown hair slid in front of his eyes as he made up his mind. I felt my shoulders relax.

“Watson Mega. Two.” His eyes met mine, we scanned each other. My stomach tightened. I had just restocked the bar, I knew where everything was, I planned my movements for the cocktails. I nodded my head slightly to indicate I understood his order. I wasn’t sure if he was fucking with me, I gave him his mulligan but I couldn’t read whether he was that arrogant. I decided to not pick apart his order. I decided not to look for trouble. Based on his suit, there was no reason to ask whether he wanted real or cheap. I poured approximately equal amounts of rye, baijiu, and tequila into a tall glass. My eyes met his again as I decided on the juice to use. Ouzo. Ice. Topped with Nicola. Done.

I placed the two drinks on the bar as the twinkle of “Payment Accepted” confirmed the transaction. His long stare told me he expected straws. I obliged. With his hyperchromed hand stuffed in his pocket, he and his companion wandered off out of sight. My eyes fell to the bartop where a shard sat precariously in the open. The synapses in my brain sparkled into hyperdrive.

I suspected he was eyeing me now, to see if I complied. I felt out of body in a sense of shock, but I had to react fast. He left me no choice, bastard. I swatted the shard into a glass, tequila followed, and I shot the liquid and wetware past my lips. I pushed the shard with my tongue into the lime I brought to my mouth and cast my eyes in his direction, sucking at the sour. I could only make out the back of his head in the far booth, but I’m sure his companion had eyes on the handoff.
I pulled the shard from the lime wedge coolly under the bar and wiped off the juice with a rag and tucked the shard into my pocket to move to the corner to serve more respectable patrons.

I was bent into the fridge to grab two beers when I realized. It had all come together. I stood and scanned to corner where the corpos were sat – empty. My brain whizzed as I tried to fathom what kind of shit I just stepped in. Why did I take it? Do I get rid of it? How much time do I have before I’m fucked? My pulse was in my ears, I walked like ice back to the shotglass and poured myself a reload. I saw visions of how this plays out. My hand fell to my side and felt the tingle from my Crusher. I took a deep breath and stared at the door. Either the music stopped or I couldn’t hear it any more. My senses went into overwatch as I waited for anything – anything – to happen. Who or what was going to come in that door?

A sparkle caught my eye at the end of the bar and it was all I had to resist opening up the side of the bar with buckshot. Dazzlehand stood as a snide smile, holding his empty glass in his hyperchrome hand, softly clapping his other hand upon the metallic palm. He called me over. “You just made me 50,000 Eddies. Cheers, Mr. Reflex.” His accent was more apparent now that my sense were keyed up, he had to be Kang Tao. “The drink wasn’t half-bad either, for a place like this.” My finger flirted with the trigger, but I kept my weapon holstered.

“Interesting choice of sidearm, Mr. Reflex. Kang Tao offers more intelligent options for -” I could almost feel his assessment scan sweep over me, “a Gibson such as yourself.” He settled on a generic assessment. I realized this was a test.

“I bet my associate that I could find us a cold-blooded solo in one try: high tech, high stakes. You did not disappoint me. You secured the shard discretely, assessed the risk, and moved to reaction smoothly. Either your cyberware synergy is especially high-quality or you’ve got a skill for dangerous situations.” I could feel my disdain being strangled by the hope of prosperous opportunity. I had to stay sharp, I could feel the tequila warming my chest, and my thoughts gaining buoyancy.
“If you are interested in a job, which I suspect you since you’ve lost your anti-corpo attitu-“

“Fuck you” I spat.

“Welcome back. All the info you need to know is in your pocket, Mr. Reflex. I hope you take this opportunity to equip yourself with something more fitting for a perceptive, albeit judgemental, man such as yourself.”

He and his companion headed toward the door and I wished with all my heart that a gang fight would break out, or a bomb would go off, or I’d lose my nerve. I thought about extending my arm and squeezing the trigger, but they were too far away now, and they were officially no longer my problem, I just had to let the trash take itself out. My shoulders tensed again as the whole bar watched them leave, eyes following the dazzling hand out the door.

My attention returned to the shard in my pocket.

/ / /​

I think about that night when I’m driving. Or waiting. Or shitting. I’ve pinpointed this interaction was the moment that got me to where I am at. Back then it was loss, love, some money, some drugs. Until then, I never had anyone promise me prosperity before. The job that followed wasn’t easy, but I managed, which exposed the prestigious corpo ladder – I climbed.

Dazzlehand turned out to be Zhao TianQi, a wannabe sophisticated corpse bully in Kang Tao’s manufacturing division. He had just got a promotion and felt that he was deserving of a designer bodyguard. He liked the way streetkids looked at corpos, so he said, he liked the way they tensed their bodies. He likes me. He likes the way I cannot resist to tell him fuck himself when he acts all corpo. He still asks me to mix him drinks. I sometimes forget a straw to get on his nerves.

I can’t say I miss my Crusher, I still have her somewhere, but I don’t use her. I’m fully outfitted in all Kang Tao everything. I’m a fucking corpo Samurai. While there is a sense of pride that can be felt from ascending with Mr. Zhao, I had to redo my face to avoid self-loathing from looking in the mirror. The Watson Streetkid died in that bar. He sold his soul for a chance out of the slumlife. I excessively allow myself bodily pleasures to finance this heavy existential price, I can’t say that I’d be happier going a different way.

I don’t think I was ever happy before but I don’t think I’ll ever be happy again. Who could love a sellout-cum-Samurai? Who could love a man with no face? Who could love a failure?

 

[xxTotexx]

The Pursuit

​

I approach the Corpses with a tray of overpriced cocktails.


They’re as cold and lifeless as any other Corpse I’ve encountered.


There’s a man sitting at the booth too, but he’s obviously not one of them.


He's dressed in leather and draped in gold chains.


He’s the Tough Guy.


A Valentino.


The Alpha's scarlet shift-tacts pierce through me as I place the glasses on the table.


A carefully practiced smile graces her face, “Thank you, Darling.”


Her words drip in hypnotic poison.


She is beautiful, though.


Her golden curls are tied back in a sleek ponytail, burgundy corporate dress hugging her perfect figure in all the right places.


“Love the hair.”


Behind her smile lurks a ravenous wolf, ready to lunge at the first sign of weakness.


She’s lying. Everyone knows it.


“Thank you, Ma’am.”


I’m no one to nobody.


I want to be someone…


More than a nameless face who serves the drinks to Boosters and Corpses alike.


Her colleagues -[Pack]- can hardly hide their disdain for me.


Laughter can be heard behind manicured hands as I walk back to the bar.


I look over my shoulder to see the wolves whispering to one another.


Their sharp eyes fixed on me.


The Alpha who complimented me in jest taps the ash from the cigarette glowing between her chrome fingers.


She's staring at me.


I watch her crimson lips curl into an insidious smirk.


My stomach churns.


Their laughter echoes inside my head.


Over the blaring music.


It's the end of my shift.


I lie on the cold, damp sidewalk outside the bar.


Barely clinging to life as the streets of Night City welcomes me in its comfortless embrace.


The neon lights reflect off the cruel faces around me, my uneven breath visible in the cold night air.


Their words assault my ears.


“You’re the ugliest little cunt in Night City," a masculine voice hisses.


I hear familiar giggling outside my line of vision.


“Not even the Joytoys could touch you without pukin’, Creep.” His Choomba adds with a grating laugh.


It sends a shiver down my spine.



Am I unlovable?



My lip bursts open and a metallic taste seeps between my teeth.


Someone kicked me in the face.


There’s a shriek.


It didn't come from me.


“These are designer shoes, you fucking Gonk!”


My hearing goes in and out.


I almost miss what's said to me.


“Stay the hell outta Heywood, ¿Comprende?”


One more ruthless kick to the gut.


I moved here for a better life.


Curled up, fighting to breathe.


I think I’m going to die.


Instead, I stir to the California sun kissing my face.


I need a moment to remember my name. Beyond dazed.


My muscles ache as I struggle to move.


People walk past me in a hurry.


Step over me.


They’re busy and uncaring.


And Trauma Team only saves the rich.


I’m no one lying on the street. Covered in blood.


Disposable. Trash.


That’s Night City for you.


I’m no one, but I’m ready to sell my soul for a taste of what it’s like to shine bright.


To be admired, adored and loved. To become a legend.


But who would love an ugly face like mine?


Painful words leave a festering, open wound on my soul.


I relive my near-death experience every night in my dreams.


No Braindance required.


It was only cosmetic in the beginning.


I wanted to fix my crooked nose and broken teeth.



You see it too, don’t you?



The Ripper Doc said it can be easily fixed - so I stare and stare at my reflection.


For hours on end.


Scrutinizing all my imperfections.


Blemished skin. Thin lips. Asymmetrical face.


Am I even human?


How could someone like me make it big in Night City?


I can’t.


I gradually see the difference, though. With each visit to the Ripper Doc.


People smile and turn their heads to look at me.


Their eyes roam over my body, lustful and predatory.


I bask in the attention my new face has given me.


People don’t recoil in disgust anymore.


I use my body and steal for more Eddies.


I am the definition of artificial beauty… Cybered up.


But it isn’t enough.


Cyberlimbs, Cyberoptics, countless Cybernetic Augmentations.


I need them all.


When the Ripper Doc refuses to operate on me, I go elsewhere.


I turn to the Black Market.


I lose myself in the obsession.


The pursuit for perfection in every sense of the word.


I am soon reborn into something that transcends humanism.


I am a God walking among lesser beings.


There is immeasurable strength beneath my fingertips.


I haven't forgotten The Pack who almost Flatlined me either.


Who inspired me to change.


Those men and women who beat me within an inch of my life.


I find my prey with pinpoint precision.


I move too fast for their inferior eyes.


I caught the first one off guard.


My titanium fist slams into his jaw, cracking it wide open.


No amount of bullets can penetrate my Subdermal Armour.


The impact of soft, feeble flesh and bone makes my lips twist into a beautiful smile.



Do you remember me?



Do you recognize me?



No?


I use my Mantis Blades to decapitate.


Paint the walls with their gore and let red bleed onto the sidewalk.



I turn to The Alpha, grinning wildly at her terrified expression.



She’s next.


Caught in the jaws of a hungry wolf.


The blood curdling screams are like music to my ears as I land hit after hit.



I tear her a part.



Limb. By. Limb.




I revel in the sickening sounds I create with each show of my divine strength.



Their pain and weakness only spur me on more.



The Alpha and her Pack are nothing more than a pile of pretty plastic limbs.



I do not stop, though.



No.


I indulge in killing, and continue to attack indiscriminately.


They are nothing to me.


Nobody cared then.


And nobody cares now.

Everyone is beneath me.



Rats and Cockroaches.



Eventually…
.
.
.

.

.


I fall to my knees with Cold Ones surrounding me.



Drenched in blood.



I feel nothing.


And then suddenly a bright light shines down onto me.



I take notice of the AV recording me from above.



Network News 54.



I smile for the cameras.



Then… They arrive - The Psycho Squad.



That’s when I know.



I’m a star.



And everyone’s watching me.



I’m ready to show them who I am and what I’m capable of.



I’m somebody.



Thank you, Night City.

 

[michaelstitcher]

Beholder

I see all of the dirt that goes on behind the scenes at Arasaka, well, not all the dirt. Nobody watches the CEO, and only a fool would pry into the business of Adam Smasher. I didn't get to be a Global Manager of Internal Audit by being a fool. More like Internal Affairs, spy catcher, internal espionage, and the guy responsible for getting the dirt on the directors, managers, and employees so that the executives have the tools necessary to stay at the top. I sit in my office, nanowire cables running slack so I can move while staying directly connected to all of Arasaka's systems, my desk cold dark metal and mostly computer mainframe, in a cold dark room, the room's only light to see are the visions projected to only me and my cybernetic eyes.

"Oh look, screen 52.75 just went active, Jensen is at it again." I mumble to myself, the camera in Jensen's dark red tinged office shows on one panel of my cybernetic optical view, appearing as a hologram in the air in front of me while the messaging, documents, and other items he types out via his Arasaka issued milware appears in the air to my right.

I smirk, for all of their deviousness, none of the mangers or employees ever realize that CEO Arasaka Saburo didn't get to the age of 158 by giving away power; he holds all the reigns, always.

"Hmm, what's this. Jensen is setting up a lower associate." I continue the bad habit of mumbling my thoughts out loud. It’s the only identified psychosomatic tick I've found since getting the full suite of cyberware necessary for the job. It's also the reason I've used my hazard pay security checks to upgrade my office's sound blocking and Faraday cage vs upgrading the security of my apartment windows and doors. After all, I live here at the office ninety percent of my life, home is where your heart is, I guess, and my heart got removed and replaced with cybernetics about two hundred floors below where I now sit.

I read through the data at blistering speeds. "Associate named V. Upstanding security analyst, good record of success, weak stomach after the fact but willing to press the trigger when needed... Hmmm, why are you trying to sacrifice V, Mr. Jensen?"

It takes a few seconds, flipping through personnel records, cross tracking historical interactions between Jensen, former managers, current managers, V's actions and mission results, and it isn't until I see V's parents that it comes together.

"Oh Jensen, you fool. Still haven't realized that Abernathy doesn't really care about you during your little sadomasochistic peg play and is just using you to keep threats down." A few more screens flicked through, "Or in this a case of a little post-the-grave revenge on V's parents for the time they permanently terminated of Abernathy's traitor boyfriend for selling secrets to Militech? Hmm, Abernathy never was one to let a perceived slight go, even when V's parents are both dead." I shake my head while continue looking, "Still, V looks like a survivor taking after the parents. Interesting that V was named that way, maybe it’s because they are the fifth generation to serve within management at Arasaka? Maybe it’s for victory? Bah, doesn't matter, and Abernathy can use this to remind the old crowd that she is always watching and always ready to crush opposition while also keeping Jensen where she wants him; licking her shiny leather boots."

I swipe my hand through the air, wiping the screens only I can see from existence and then sit back in my chair and rub my cybernetic eyes. Phantom weariness and ache pounds through each of them for a moment as I rub the flesh of my eyelids over my synthetic bulbs. I must be tired if I am trying to rub the sore out of plastic, metal, and assorted electronics; I think to myself.

Standing from my chair, popping my back, I query the time in my Hud. "1:21 A.M." it reads. "Damn, I must have been busy, lost a few hours. I have to be back to work in six hours." I mumble as I move out into the hall, opening and fully closing and locking my door behind me. A brief smell has me looking down to the left of my door where my office trashcan sits. Can't stand the smell of leftover food in the office and so I leave it sitting outside my door, and the reason is firmly driven home by the noodle boxes overflowing my trash can.

"Blech, fucking noodles. The smell is hideous." My face scrunches in disgust, the smell roiling my stomach despite the fact I had the stomach replaced a long time ago so as to be resistant to poisons. "This is probably from Gabriel in finance, the little synthcoke sniffer thinks he can get my job?" I growl and briefly consider going back into my office to dig up some dirt on the ass kisser who is gunning for my seat. But then my stomach grumbles again, the need to keep my synthetic metabolic systems pumping demands I get some food.

Down the hall, around multiple corners, through fifteen different seen and unseen security checks, and then to the elevators. Finally, I'm on the streets of city center. I could afford a place on the outskirts of Westbrook, but then the commute would stop me from having the job that allowed me my funds. No, it was just a short walk through a few clean alleys, and some not so clean alleys, to the front stoop of my apartment building.

My eyes scanned the dark of night city and the people milling about. The milspec vision of my cybernetics makes my pupils glow an ominous red that matches my street cred history of absolutely pulping the last five BD freaks that thought to jump me in the hopes of making some eddies off of a "torture the corpo" clip. The crowds flowed around me, my black and white suit slightly rumpled, and polished real leather shoes, shows that I am either a corpo, or some criminal, and either way I am somebody that the average Night City resident should stay away from; the weak serve the powerful, and rightly so. Nobody was going to mess with me, not this close to Arasaka, and especially not in this neighborhood.

I was known, and I knew this area, even if the stinking noodle shop that was next to my apartment drove me a bit batty. It wasn't the noodles, per say, it was the smell of the synth-meat they used; some chemical in the protein formula that disagreed with my respiratory upgrades and the bloodhound module needed for my work. Even the smell of the passed out drunk being dragged by me through the alley by the NCPD didn't bother me as much as that fake crap did.

My eyes electronically scanned the streets for threats, noting anything new, people’s faces being logged and tracked against police wanted levels and threat assessments before being ignored as irrelevant, ignored like the new sign on the noodle stand listing a job for a replacement delivery person. Nothing new, nothing out of place... except, a red chip sitting on the ground in the shadows just off the ledge of the stoop of my apartment. My vision zoomed in, identified it as a Brain Dance chip. The BD chip was fresh, color showing that it was still dripping with the coagulating blood of its previous owner, as if it had been ripped from their cerebral cortex rather than ejected nicely.

I looked around carefully, then swept it from the ground and pocketing it before entering my building. Visibly armed mechs and a full-time NCPD presence in the entry airlock opened into opulent crimson plush carpets and real gold tapestries. Ebony wood polished to shine were emblazoned with rubies and diamonds to make up the Arasaka name and corporate logo on the walls. These were the executive apartments, kept by the company for those of high enough rank who needed to spend a night or more near the headquarters. It was owned by the company, but we still had to pay, and big time. The price of a place here was only slightly less than the outskirts of Westbrook, and you had to have a certain "rank", or in my case profession and rank, in order to even get a place in this building.

Into the elevators, another five hundred floors up, and then down the hall to my corner apartment. People had asked how I could merit any corner apartment in a building such as this, let alone the five hundredth something floor. It wasn't a penthouse, but people rarely saw a person below VP above the 400 block. I normally just look at them, activate my combat mode in my optical processors, and then let the red glow accompany a single statement, "I'm Internal Audit." Usually after learning that I'm the equivalent of Arasaka's secret police, people stop asking; though they usually stop being my friend, acquaintance, lover, family member, etc., also.

The lights turn on to a dim color as I enter my spartan-esk apartment. Sure, it’s a three-bedroom luxury apartment, living room with 20-foot screen, full kitchen, great view, full amenities, blah blah, etc. However, only one bedroom has a bed and clothes closet, the second has a full netrunner and brain dance tub-and-tank with automatic brain wave monitor and EKG, and the third bedroom is empty. The living room is just the couch, tv, and a long glass table, white carpet, black walls, black screen, black leather couch. I live simply, no friends, no guests, no problems.

I sit down on the couch with a sigh, and close my eyes.

I awaken with a startle from the couch when a blinking icon in the corner of my Hud notifies me of a possible fraud alert with my finances and that several hours have passed. Duplicate billings for my apartment building. Duplicate water. Duplicate electrical. Duplicate garbage....

Jumping to my feet with a growl, I wave my hand and the bills are displayed in the air before me. Apartment 222, my name, my financial details, middle apartment. I verbally growl as my eyes flash red, though briefly distracted by the sensation of wetness on my top lip.

I wipe my lip only to find a slight slick smear of blood between my fingertips. I touch my nose but no pain and no bleeding to be shown, so I decide I can deal with that later. My money is more important.

I march towards the door, hand wave triggering a compartment to the right of the door to trigger, ejecting a tech shotgun guaranteed to pulp an enemy at up to 150 yards; I should know, I've seen it work. Stalking out the door, I tap my left lapel.

"Simons here, I may have a security issue in 222..." I pause as I get a snide pretentious reply from the building's security communications system that I've just hacked into and directly contacted. "Yes I know this is a private Arasaka secure security channel, my Internal Audit code is Alpha fifteen twenty-two Mike Romeo... no you can't be of assistance to me you sanctimonious ass, if you weren't going to be nice to me from the start I'm not going to give you kudos for kissing my ass now. Just stay tuned, I may need assistance but will let you know." I growl, get into the elevator, nano-wires slide into the secure system and bypass its controls to override and take me right to floor two hundred and twenty.

Stalking down the hall, the plush fabric of the crimson carpet doesn't make a sound it is so thick. That is until I get to room 222, where the thick carpet crinkles and cracks under my feet, and my optics show dried congealing blood to be the cause.

I lean to the side of the doorway, to be out of line if shots are fired, and go to hack the panel... only for it to open as the rfid chip's encryption in my palm pings the door's lock, which goes green and opens.

I blink quickly, before swinging into the room, shotgun muzzle leading.

It's empty.

Well not empty. The room is a swirl of colors. Greens and reds, oranges and yellows. mattresses cover the floors and there are the smells of sex and drugs easily sussed out by my bloodhound module. And then there are the piles of noodle boxes everywhere, not to mention the three dismembered bodies lying on the ground. It looks like a hippy commune was slaughtered midst tie-dye Tuesday and orgy night.

I slowly edge my way in, stepping over the remains of bodies and around the boxes of leftover street noodles. The bed rooms of this two-bedroom apartment are no better. More bodies of joygirls and joy boys, more street rats, more colors, the smell of incense in the air... and surprisingly given that bedroom too is literally full of noodle boxes from wall to wall and floor to ceiling, no synth-meat.

I blink, and then look around confused. These are the boxes from the noodle joint just outside the building.

As I make my way back into the living room, and look at the bodies. I see a mix of what looks like street rats, the girl in the corner might be a nomad, and the guy laying near the door is clearly the missing noodle delivery guy; what if the jacket touting "Noodle World! Enjoy a Taste of the Old World" wasn't a big enough give away.

Looking closer at the delivery guy, I notice that part of the side of his head has been torn away, diced as if very finely severed. My eyes flick across the room, noting that all of the injuries seem to be from a very fine melee weapon, similar to a mono-molecular blade or maybe even nano-wire. My experience says that the type would have had to be military grade, but the use is clearly of passion and less of professional. Looking at the delivery driver's skull, I clearly see the internal workings of what looks to be a partially severed BD capture implant. It's then that I remember the chip in my pocket, forgotten in my fatigue.

I sprint out of the apartment, every step leaving crimson squish marks on the thick carpet on my path towards the elevator. The door is still open from when I hijacked the elevator car, and it’s only a few moments before I'm back on my floor and in my apartment. Screw contacting NCPD, screw contacting the sanctimonious security, I'm Arasaka IA, and nobody frames me.

Only slowing to slam the front door, I rush into my Brain Dance and netrunning room, boot up the automatic sequence, and jack in, before inserting the still blood coated chip into the system. The automatic virus scan screens for any black works that would fry my brain, and I'm in; I see through the eyes of Mr. Joe Schmo the noodle delivery man. That's not his name, I just don't care to figure it out.

I see the man walking to the building and then moving through security at the front of the building. He's mumbling to himself about when he gets off shift, needs another fix, and complaining about how apartment 222 is ordering their fiftieth box of plain noodles that evening. Something something stuck up rich corpos being mumbled below his breath, I don't care, I fast forward to when to he gets to the apartment.

The door is open this time, the delivery man mumbles that the door is never open, it’s always leave the boxes at the door, no tip... the delivery guy mumbles to himself that it might not hurt to see how the other side lives for once, so pushes the door open slowly.

There is a man leaning over a body on the floor, a box of noodles in hand, empty boxes everywhere, mixed with the sprawled piles of dismembered human flesh of one of the bodies being plucked with chopsticks from a diced pile on the floor next to the man and then added to the noodles before being slurped up together as some sort of culinary treat.

It's ghastly to behold, and I can feel the delivery driver wanting to scream. This is the worst thing that the noodle guy has ever seen in his life, even having grown up on the streets of Night City. I can feel the man wet himself, frozen in fear, for just a moment as fight or flight war inside him and comes out in the only way his body can figure out.

Even while in the brain dance, I sneer and scoff at the weak will of the man. I'm made of stronger stuff.

I blink and miss it as what must be the impressive military-grade cybernetic enhancements cause the man in the middle of the room to blur in motion; I note that the figure may even be a full borg in high end synth skin derivatives. The figure stands and swings at the delivery driver in one quick motion that is lost in a blur of flaring orange nano-wire, the orange wire creating an optical blur that dices through the skull of the man and the Brain dance crashes.

I startle out of the brain dance, but now knowing what to look for I dive back in, fast forward, and then pause, beholding the face of the killer.

It’s Me.

For a moment, I'm stunned, and then I blink. Memories I didn't know I had return to me in a flash. The noodle runs, the blood on my lip and how it got there. The many, many, many murders. I'm stunned, emotionally mute but still functional. The cybernetics stop me from going into shock as I blink and take stock of what I've learned. There is only one reason this could happen, Cyberpsychosis.

"Maybe I shouldn't have added those last cybernetics." I whisper to nobody but myself.

I unplug myself from my brain dance, and slowly walk into my kitchen to stare out at the city. Night City is just beginning to be lit by the dawn as I gaze across it, out into the badlands from my high place in city center. Numbly, watching, beholding the mix of dark and grey as light slithers between the buildings and unveils a mix of beauty and horror that only matches the mix of emotions running through my mostly cybernetic mind.

I slowly tap my left lapel. "Security, I'm going to need a clean-up in room 222." I wait for a response, it slowly comes. "Yes, I can hold."

I wait, looking out at Night City, as day comes.

I almost start to feel better, I think I can move past this when I notice a glint of light on a building across from me. There is a shattering sound, and then nothing.
........................................................................................................................................................................................................................................
ARASAKA COMPANY SECURITY MEMO
Employees are reminded that security and hazard payments are for the sole use of securing their domiciles, and that if employees should want to increase the security of their personal work areas that they are to seek the assistance of procurement and supply chain by submitting form 15.9.0.221. Further, the security of all doors, windows, and entries into the personal domiciles of manager level employees and above is a requirement, failure to follow this policy may lead to discipline, up to and including termination of services.

ARASAKA COMPANY HUMAN RESOURCES MEMO
Arasaka Internal Audit would like to welcome Gabriel Sanchez to the position of Global Manager of Internal Audit. Please welcome Gabriel Sanchez to his new role, and Arasaka hopes to have many profitable years of service during Mr. Sanchez’s tenure.

 

[VelWu]

The Last Night
by Vel (Tien-Yun) Wu​

19:23 Jan 29, 2077
ICU 239, T.T.I. Medical Center, Watson
“Your profile says your left brow twitches when you lie. It just did.” Charlotte tilted her head victoriously, pink hair fluttering.
“Oh…” Kenji paused. “Well, the profile could be wrong. Why not just jack a live lie detector into me to check? Militech folks do that all the time.”
“Eww, no. I don’t want a wire between me and some dude I just met.” Charlotte grimaced as Kenji noticed her face ; a little eyeliner around the hazel-colored eyes but no cybernetics. “Besides, that shit’s pricey. I’m not some spoiled corporate brat.”
“You certainly don’t sound like one.” Kenji risked a peek at her attire; an improvised armor get-up comprised of a green boat neck jacket with metallic lining, attached were two straps, upon which ‘GET RICH. OR DIE TRYING’ was written. “You must be pretty skilled, making it this far without those ~”
“Don’t change the subject.” She pulled out a blue pistol to point at him. “Answer my questions and I’ll keep you safe.”
“Yes, I feel very safe with a gun in my face.” Kenji noted sarcastically. “Is this a Night City etiquette I’m too foreign to get?”
“Ha! I’m not one of those Street Kids, either. I don’t lie like they do all the time.” Charlotte pulled out a photo which Kenji recognized as a sealed underground vault, while noticing her cybernetic left arm that had spikes around wrist and elbow. “The password in. My client wants it. Tell me.” She demanded.
“And if I don’t?” Kenji’s tone shifted.
“I will still know,” Charlotte held back her impatience, “by taking and cracking your brain. That tends to hurt, you know?”
A rumbling sounded through the walls in that instant.
Time was running out.

RESIGNATION LETTER
To: Saburo Arasaka (CEO)
The Arasaka Corporation HQ, Tokyo, Japan
Date: 14/12/2076
Saburo shachou,
Please accept this as a formal notification that I am leaving my software developer position with Pierre Camelio and Olivia Thatcher.
Your latest decision shows that fair trading and corporate integrity are no longer our ideals. We now oppress the customers we used to empower alongside a government no one trusts.
Whatever you do next is your choice. But I assure you:
YOU WILL BE STOPPED
Sincerely,
Dr. Kenji Hayama

21:03 Jan 25, 2077
Reception Desk, Shilton Hotel, Westbrook
“On vacation?” The receptionist kept his eyes on the screen, hands typing.
“Of sort.” Kenji replied. “If you don’t mind. You are not from around here, are you?”
“Pacifica.” The man looked up as his towering physique crowded the desk. “Most of us Haitians spend our entire lives there.”
“Well that’s something.” Recalling a shadowy connection between the Haitian community and the Voodoo Boys, Kenji pondered whether to further the conversation, despite his own curiosity. He looked back at the hallway to see his lover, Mu-Shan Li, looking back with a warm smile. It felt as comforting as it did the day they first met.
“Need room service, you call Emmanuel. That’s me.” The Haitian man offered. “No leaving your doors open. No flushing condoms down the toilets.”
“Thanks, Emmanuel.” Kenji chuckled awkwardly.
“Room 1905 is yours.” Emmanuel spoke, turning his eyes around to make sure no one was eavesdropping. The eyes then focused on Kenji’s, sizing him up for something. Nodding, the receptionist held the room key in his umber-colored hand, signaling Kenji to grab it. “Enjoy.”
“1905, Got it.” As Kenji reached for the key, his arm was pulled to the side for a brief second by Emmanuel. As he placed the key into Kenji’s palm, Emmanuel pressed Kenji’s middle knuckle with his forefinger. A telepathic message came in that instant:
“Stay strong and stay alive. We will help you.” The receptionist released his hand to turn around, back facing Kenji.
“Why? Who is ‘we’?” Kenji’s tone trembled.
“You have your key. Time to make way.” Emmanuel spoke matter-of-factly.
“Cryptic, but okay.” Realizing the conversation was over, Kenji gave a nod and turned around to walk towards the elevator, Li silently following.

00:01 Jan 26, 2077
Room 1905, Shilton Hotel, Westbrook
“You can tell me anything. We’re safe in here.” Mu-Shan Li’s tone was soft, like a soothing whisper.
“I don’t know where to start.” Kenji’s eyes shifted as he spoke. “No replies from Camelio or Thatcher. Been evading people since I quit, afraid the next assassination is just around the corner.”
“Alright, calm down, sugar,” Li comforted him. “It’s all behind you now.”
The scent of lavender soap filled his senses as Li laid on Kenji’s shoulder in the hotel bed. The lights were off and the bed sheet was the only thing that shielded their dignities, wrapping them in each other’s warmth. It had been a long time since they had shared a moment like this.
“Reminds you of that first time we did it?” Kenji whispered, combing her hair with his fingers.
“And the evening before.” Li replied, as Kenji felt her breath on his chest.
“The double date with Camelio and Thatcher?” He looked at the ceiling as he fondly recalled. “So many years ago.”
“You talked about plucking the stars to make a necklace for me.” Li teased him, placing her hand on his cheek. “And never did.”
“Yeah. And my moves were so sloppy.” Kenji remarked.
“And I thought all those braindances you guys love watching would have taught you.” Li chuckled as she started fiddling with something beneath the sheet. “Something.”
“Hmph. Braindance cannot replace reality.” Feeling a rush, he turned to look at Li as their faces closed in on each other. “Nothing can replace reality.”
“No.” She agreed and rose slowly, one hand on his belly, bed sheet sliding down her back. “Show me what you’ve learned since then.”
“Gladly.” Relaxed, Kenji sat up with his back straight and legs crossed on the bed to make a lotus shape. Li wore a coy smile and lowered herself gently onto him. After moments of rubbing, he felt a part of him sliding into her as Li moaned softly, wrapping her legs and arms around him in a giant hug. Eyes fluttering shut, the distance between their faces closed and Kenji ecstatically gave into the sensation, as their tongues intertwined. It was then that he felt a cold, metallic tip touching his backside, as if probing for something. The next moment the feeling became the icy touch of two sharp edges, and before long Kenji bit back a scream as he felt his backside pierced. He opened his eyes in horror to see tears rolling down Li’s grieving face.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice trembled as she sobbed while slowly driving the Mantis Blades attached to her arms deeper in. “I’m sorry our last night together has to be like this.”
“Mu-Shan…why?” Overwhelmed by pain and betrayal, Kenji looked for answers in the eyes of his lover.
“You are the only loose end.” Li offered, her voice shaking. “I killed Camelio and Thatcher.”
Disbelief was soon replaced with understanding on Kenji’s face as the revelation set in. “…that’s why you came back to me the day I resigned.”
“Yes…” Li’s voice reduced to a whisper. She leaned her face against his close enough that Kenji could taste the waning saltiness of her tears. “I was the only one you all trusted…”

Just as the world felt like it was coming to an end, a blast came from the ceiling. A piece of metal fell on the floor as a figure with shoulder length pink hair emerged from above, jumping down. With trained elegance, the woman stood and aimed her two pistols. Li pulled the Mantis Blades out of Kenji, screaming and dashing off the bed. Kenji could only slump against the headboard, blood filling the sheets.
“Shit! Looks like I’m late. Again.” The pink-haired party crasher proclaimed with an exasperated sigh.
“Who are you!?” Li demanded in a harsh, shrieking voice, her Mantis Blades extended in full length. Kenji had never heard her speak like that.
“Room service, here to serve some Corpos up,” the woman quipped.
Kenji could do nothing as he watched Li lunge towards the pink-haired figure who in turn fired both pistols in her hands, an excessive amount. Heavy with bullets, Li fell to the ground like a pile of metal scraps as the woman walked up to her lifeless nudity. “Spilling wires from your belly and chest? No blood or cherry-flavored lollipops? You were barely human. Tsk tsk tsk.”
How could someone laugh at another’s demise with such levity? Kenji thought.
“Now that the trash is out, how 'bout you? Still kickin'?” The pink-haired gunslinger asked as she approached the bed.
“I’m—”.
“Oof, not lookin’ too good either, in more ways than one” a crooked smirk appeared on her face as her eyes moved to take in Kenji’s situation. “But I bet you have a great personal—”
“You’re late.” The door opened, Emmanuel came into sight.
“Sorry, Em. Judy was nagging me about some men catcalling her. So I taught them a lesson.” Her pink hair swished as she motioned the action with her guns, mouthing ‘pow pow’.
“Sure you did.” Emmanuel’s tone was so even one would think this was the thousandth time he heard such drastic remarks. “Your car’s downstairs. I’ve contacted the Police Dep. Told them it’s another Cyberpsychosis case.”
“Think that ass Fujitsu will find that?”
“He won’t.” Emmanuel uttered as Kenji felt himself lifted, blood still dripping from his back, his body feeling weightless in the Haitian man’s arms. “Arasaka can’t admit to the cops that they have a rogue programmer running from home. Bad for PR. I’ll change the sheets before the cops arrive.”
“Very sweet of you, Em.” Her pink hair came into sight as Kenji’s closing eyes met hers. “Did you call the doc?”
“Mm-hmm. Carrington will be waiting.” Emmanuel replied firmly .

18:01 Jan 29, 2077
ICU 239, T.T.I. Medical Center, Watson
“Heart rate stable. Blood cell counts normal.” The doctor remarked as Kenji opened his eyes. “His back won’t fully recover on its own, though. Better replace the parts with Grafted Muscles and nanites after rehabilitation.” The doc came in sight wearing a clinical coat, sapphire-colored pupils occupied with thoughts. “We do have those here, if you don’t mind the expenses.”
“Pass.” The pink-haired woman rejected casually. “But thanks for the info, Carrington.”
“After all these years, Charlotte,” The doctor commented with disappointment. “You still won’t call me by my first name.”
“I mean, ‘Eric’ sounds so generic.” Charlotte teased. “Carrington makes you sound like a revolutionist.”
“If you say so,” Carrington chuckled as he made for the door, looking back to inquire casually. “When are we going on that date you promised?”
“Soon, honey. Last time I checked, you just need to save five more patients.” Charlotte gestured as she joked.
“Hmph.” Carrington sneered as he disappeared behind the closing door.

A silent minute passed as Charlotte approached the bed. “Slept well, little prince?”
“Well enough.” Kenji uttered, cautiously rising. “Looks like I have Princess Charlotte to thank for my rescue?”
“Always a pleasure, Sleeping Beauty.” She replied. “Amazing, right?”
“You’re dating the doctor?” He asked, smiling at the waning pain in his back. “He seems fine. Knows his stuffs. I barely felt it when he stitched me up.”
“You were out cold, smart guy. It’s been three days.” Charlotte grinned as she continued. “Carrington’s girlfriend, Stacey, and I—we’ve got history. He’s never charged me. It’s just a running joke we make so people don’t get suspicious.”
“Well whoever has your attention is lucky.” Kenji stretched his arms. “You seem well put together.”
“You don’t know me as well as I know you, puppy,” Charlotte frowned briefly before grinning slyly. “I’ve seen you naked, remember? And I must say, not impressed.”
“What!?” Kenji blushed.
“Yeah. So small I can fit a pinky ring on it.” Her grin widened as she gestured.
“It still gets the job done,” Kenji shot back at the deprecating joke.
“Except it didn’t.” Charlotte sighed. “You do remember you were half dead before it fired at all, right?”
“She…” Kenji’s mind sunk back into the memory of Li’s lamenting look. “never told me what she really is.”
“Corporates do that. Lies, deceit, greed. They don’t even know who they are anymore.” Charlotte’s tone was somber before becoming cheerful again. “But! Enough tears. Tell me what you know.”
“About?”
“Word goes around that a programmer named Kenji Hayama escapes from Tokyo, carrying a secret of Arasaka. That’s you.”
Kenji hesitated. “N-no, that’s not—"
“Your profile says your left brow twitches when you lie. It just did.” Charlotte tilted her head victoriously, pink hair fluttering.
“Oh…” Kenji paused. “Well, the profile could be wrong. Why not just jack a live lie detector into me to check? Militech folks do that all the time.”
“Eww, no. I don’t want a wire between me and some dude I just met.” Charlotte grimaced as Kenji noticed her face ; a little eyeliner around the hazel-colored eyes but no cybernetics. “Besides, that shit’s pricey. I’m not some spoiled corporate brat.”
“You certainly don’t sound like one.” Kenji risked a peek at her attire; an improvised armor get-up comprised of a green boat neck jacket with metallic lining, attached were two straps, upon which ‘GET RICH. OR DIE TRYING’ was written. “You must be pretty skilled, making it this far without those ~”
“Don’t change the subject.” She pulled out a blue pistol to point at him. “Answer my questions and I’ll keep you safe.”
“Yes, I feel very safe with a gun in my face.” Kenji noted sarcastically. “Is this a Night City etiquette I’m too foreign to get?”
“Ha! I’m not one of those Street Kids, either. I don’t lie like they do all the time.” Charlotte pulled out a photo which Kenji recognized as a sealed underground vault, while noticing her cybernetic left arm that had spikes around wrist and elbow. “The password in. My client wants it. Tell me.” She demanded.
“And if I don’t?” Kenji’s tone shifted.
“I will still know,” Charlotte held back her impatience, “by taking and cracking your brain. That tends to hurt, you know?”
A rumbling sounded through the walls in that instant.
Time was running out.
He sighed heavily, relenting. “‘Do not seek to follow in the footsteps of the wise; seek what they sought.’. Spell it backwards, replacing o’s with 0, t’s with 7 and spaces with 1.” As he finished the revelation, his heart was heavy with guilt mixed with relief. For what seemed like an eternity, her intimidating stare bore into his soul so deeply that the entire world could not save him if he lied.
“Quote by Matsuo Basho.” Charlotte closed her eyes in satisfaction and sheathed the dual pistols. “I believe you.”
“That’s it? Don’t you need to…verify it or something?” Sweat dropped down Kenji’s back.
“It’s in the movements of your eyes and lips.” She commented. “Don’t need any tech to see honesty.”
Another rumbling came from outside the room, only this time it felt much closer, accompanied by audible gunshots.
“Shit! Your gun is under the bed, between the frames.” Charlotte pushed him out of the bed and down to the floor.
“My what?” Confusedly, he crawled behind his bed.
“And wear the goggle!” She commanded as an explosion came to blast the door open. “Won’t work otherwise!”
As Kenji laid flat on the floor to reach for a strangely shaped gun and the paired eyepiece, Charlotte rolled behind a sofa other side of room, pistols ready in each hand. Four men barged in from the blasted door, looking monstrously ripped with various weapons in their hands.
“Spread out and find them!” the voice felt like sandpaper as he readied his assault rifle.
As Kenji looked down at his gun, he recognized it to be a SMG with a magazine of handgun cartridges, safety already off, ‘Made In Taiwan’ engraved onto its grip and a miniature targeting computer attached to one side of the barrel. Immediately understanding what it does he put on the eyepiece, then stood up from his cover to see two masculine men surrounding Charlotte. She dodged their swinging clubs adeptly, dancing from one broken furniture to another. Kenji focused on one man as his eyepiece switched on and drew a parabola from the SMG’s barrel to the target. Squeezing the trigger, he watched in awe as the gun adjusted its aim and sent a stream of bullets towards the back of the colossal man’s neck, who dropped screaming in pain. The other man turned to looked at his injured companion in confusion.
“My turn!” Charlotte leapt from behind a curtain and fired her dual pistols from above, showering the second man’s skull with bullets, his body dropping next to his fallen kin. She then gracefully landed next to the corpses and swung her leg at the third, who evaded only to find his crotch met by her other knee. As the man knelt with a twisted face, Kenji pulled the trigger once more to barrage his chest, and let the recoil guided his shots upwards, unzipping the muscles of the target’s neck and face.
With their adversaries defeated she turned to smile at Kenji approvingly. “So, you can use a gun after all. Figured I’d have to do all the dirty work.”
“It’s this contraption you gave me.” Kenji commented, looking at the gun he wielded. “I’ve written Smart Gun drivers before, but never seen one in action.”
“Always safe behind a screen, huh?” Charlotte teased. “That’s a Kang Tao Type 17. It never entered production. But before he died, the designer gave me the prototype as a souvenir from my trip to New Taipei City. I think it suits you.”
“Does it?” Kenji inquired. “You’re a better shot than I.”
“That’s the point.” She replied, tone softening. “I prefer picking my targets. Type 17 also needs time to calculate between shots, which breaks my rhythm. Plus, I never liked SMGs. Too much recoil.”
“Makes sense.” Kenji stood with his back facing the doorway, keeping his eyes on the dead bodies. “These guys look… unnaturally muscular.”
Charlotte kicked at one of the corpses. “The Animals. Some boostergang who cares more about looking ripped than picking clients. Must’ve had a deal with Arasaka to track you down.” Abruptly, she turned to point her pistol in Kenji’s direction, locking her eyes onto something behind his back. “Look out! Behind you!”
Kenji felt the brute force of the man as he was brushed aside from behind. As he bumped into a wall, he turned around to see three more men enter, this time all pursuing Charlotte. She vaulted into the air to evade a shotgun blast. Shaking off the concussion, he aimed only to see a ‘RELOAD!’ warning in the left corner of his eyewear. He squeezed the trigger a few times to check.
“More ammos’ under the pillow!” Charlotte proclaimed as she crippled the shotgun-wielder by shooting his legs, dodging a swinging katana. “Shotgun’s all yours!”
“On it!” He reloaded the SMG and aimed at the crippled foe. As the parabola finished drawing he caught a glimpse of one brute raising his sledge above head, preparing to strike a deadly blow on Charlotte’s skull while his companion limited her space of maneuver with the swinging katana. In that moment Kenji saw no way that she could possibly dodge it.
“Charlotte!” Against the smart gun’s calculations, he shook the grip to cancel out the aiming and fired at the sledge-wielder. The bullets bounced off the man’s back, but made him turned around to face Kenji, eyes burning with rage.
“Yeah!” Kenji taunted, grimacing. “Come at me, fucker!”
As the sledge-wielder charged at him, Kenji saw his katana-wielding buddy looking back with disbelief before his visage was covered by a sledge. Swiftly Kenji crouched to dodge and glided under, pushing the SMG against the man’s crotch, and fired. As the man dropped his sledge to howl painfully, Kenji stood up from behind to kick him to the ground, finishing him off with a second stream of shots. He then turned around, relieved as he watched Charlotte gracefully disarming the katana-wielder and finishing him off with a bullet to the temple.
An instance after, Kenji bit back a scream as a shotgun blast came. He dropped to the ground, hand on his belly as he looked up to see the shotgun-wielder leaning on one knee, grinning at him with a smoking barrel. The monstrous grin faded as Charlotte came to decapitate him with the spikes on her cybernetic wrist. Kenji smiled as his vision blurred.
“Why!” Her pink hair was covered in blood as she ran to him. “I told you to kill shotgun first! The smart gun would’ve said the same! Why…” Her voice faded as she placed her hand on his belly pouring with blood.
“The Gun saw the logical way to kill,” Kenji choked, not feeling his limbs and wounds. “but I wanted the way to save…y…”
“Kenji…how could you…” She lamented, a drop of tear in the corner of her eye.
“I’m spent, Charlotte. You got what you needed from me. I can die in peace.”
“Bullshit!” She protested, pulling out a SpeedHeal vaper and stuffed it in his mouth. “Inhale, or I’ll visit Hell to kill you again!”
As Kenji did, a violent stream filled his entire body, from nostrils and lungs to his intestines, as a crimson haze clouded his vision. The haze then dispersed as the world came into sight, his breath stabilizing. Looking down, he saw the blood pouring from his belly miraculously dried. He turned to see Charlotte’s calm expression.
“That’s better.” She let out a relieved sigh then had a whiff at the SpeedHeal vaper that was now empty.
“What’s that for?” Kenji inquired. “I thought I took it all.”
“I am not ready to kiss you.” Charlotte looked away as a subtle redness crept up her cheeks. “For now, this will do.”
She turned around to walk towards the doorway. “Carrington will clean the mess. The Trauma Team should have dealt with the other invaders by now.”
“So, what next?” He stood up slowly.
“I’m taking you to The Afterlife. Tomorrow, around the Watson District. Show you to a few people: ripperdocs, my favorite clients, some friends in low places. You need a new look, a new name and a new life.” She offered. “This is the last night you will live as Kenji Hayama.”
“I see.” Kenji replied as he followed her. “Before you find out, I’m a bad dancer.”
“Nobody cares.” Charlotte looked back to smile at him. “We dance how we like it.”


05:33 Apr 10, 2077
Garage 19A, Rorik’s Motel, The Badlands
With cold waters washing away his sleepiness, he opened his eyes to look in the mirror. The azure mohawk hairstyle still felt as strange as the new name she gave him. A single letter. The one sound that could not be found in his mother tongue. He liked the name despite its unfamiliarity.
The last two months had been the weirdest of his life. Together with his mentor, they roamed the great barren desert beyond the City, ran with clans, traversing across the vast expanse free of any corporate and national law. Life was harsh as they lived by the car, took every odd job, and held onto every scrap of salvage, but it was all worth it because they did it together. Eventually they earned enough to buy him a car. A second-handed one, with minor damage. But something to his name.
Today was the day his training was complete. Her task with him was done as things elsewhere required her attention.
Today was the day they went their separate ways.
“V!” A familiar voice shouted the letter from behind. “Why are you up this early?”
“Charlotte!” He turned to look at her pink-haired visage. “I…wanted to see you off.”
Desert wind blew in his face, carrying the weird scent of gas stations and the cherry-flavored perfume she wore. It mattered not that the mixture smelled funny; it mattered that nothing in the world could replace it. Calmed, he uttered. “All of the Free States are going to remember that perfume you wear.”
“If they’d care to.” Charlotte grinned as she approached. “You, on the other hand, have a city to—” She stopped as he interrupted her with a hug. Slowly she returned it, arms wrapping around his neck.
“Thank you.” He failed to hold back a tear drop as it landed on her shoulder. “I never dreamed of a life like this.”
“The world isn’t that big. Maybe we will see each other again.” She comforted.
“I know.” He sobbed. “Until then, I will always remember you.”
“If that’s true,” Charlette’s voice hardened as she released him from the hug. “Remember, be honest, be proud and live in the now. No lies. No regrets. No dwelling on the past—on me. Do you understand?”
“I do.” With a deep breath he steadied himself, quoting a motto of his mentor’s. “Open skies, open roads,”
“And open minds.” She smiled approvingly and patted on his shoulder before hopping into her car. “Take care of yourself, V.”
“You too, Charlette.” He nodded and smiled back.
V watched as Charlotte’s vehicle drove towards the horizon, until it became a dot under the sunrise. The tears cleared up as V calmed himself.
It’ll be alright. He thought. She’ll be alright. So I must make sure I am.
With a tranquil mind, he started his car and started preparing it for the first day of his solo job. In the days that followed, the Night City would come to know him as ‘V, The Nomad’.

THE END
Special thanks to Maddie Wallace for making sure my English was ok.

 

[ReptilePZ]

The Gig​

Her breath was warm on his face, her soft breasts pressed against his chest. She smelled of sweat, tobacco and cheap perfume. Although The Tight Lane was not Diaz’s first choice, in this moment there was not even a hint of regret in him. The unassuming establishment may not have boasted the best girls nor the most tasteful decor in Night City, but it did provide the young mercenary with much-needed relief after the tough job. Cindy – or was it Candy – seemed to be skilled and experienced, a true master of her craft, and that was enough.

Later that evening, Diaz was out on the neon and rain-drenched streets of the city, headed towards The Afterlife, where the group had agreed to meet. A cool-looking jacket on one of the display windows along the way caught his eye. During the job, a bullet had grazed his right arm, tearing up the sleeve. Celebrating in a ruined jacket just wasn’t going to do. Not in The Afterlife. Not in Night City. Besides, the amount of Eddies he was about to receive in payment would more than cover the cost.

What was troubling him even more than the torn-up clothing was the man responsible. More to the point, the uniform he was wearing. Arasaka. The op was supposed to be on the down-low, no big players involved. So, what was a megacorp doing there?

The loud sound of a well-armored AV whizzing above his head tore Diaz away from his thoughts. SWAT – some poor bastards were in big trouble. Diaz instinctively placed his hand on his lower back, the familiar, reassuring feel of his trusty Glock giving him comfort.

***​

Upon entering The Afterlife, Diaz was greeted by the thick, stale air so typical of bars. Some post-nu-rock shit was playing in the background. Nothing, compared to good old Samurai, but it didn’t matter. The music wasn’t going to ruin Diaz’s mood – he was about to become a lot richer.

‘Hey!’ A sharp female falsetto cut through the cacophony of music and loud drunken banter. ‘Over here, Razor!’

A slim young woman was waving him over from a table at the far end of the room. It was Jax. Not too hard on the eyes, as far as Diaz was concerned. Did a good enough job getting them in the facility, although it would have been smoother if the alarm hadn’t gone off. First real netrunner he’d met so he couldn’t really appraise her skill. She was young – younger than him, meaning she couldn’t have been much more than a rookie. Beyond being the designated netrunner, Jax also had the task of keeping the stolen goods – a locked metal briefcase. Diaz didn’t know what was in it and he didn’t need to know. All that mattered was that they were able to secure the package and that Jax had brought it to the bar, as agreed.

The mercenary was under the impression she found his nickname amusing, which is why she insisted on using it. He didn’t mind, though. She wouldn’t recognize a cool nickname if it hit her straight in the face. Who picks an alias like “Jax” anyway?

‘Hey, chica. Boss not here yet?’

‘No, taking his sweet time, I guess. Not his usual style… Speaking of style, nice jacket, Razor. Must’ve really splurged on it.’

‘Good of you to notice. You know, I wouldn’t have needed a new one if someone had done a better job with the alarm.’

‘Hmph, it’s you two idiots who tripped it. Everything was going fine until–– ‘

‘Until cocky young Diaz here decided he was too cool for caution and blitzed straight in there like a moron.’

Gunther, SMG always strapped to his side. A nasty piece of work with an even nastier knack for murder. How a man as huge as him had snuck up on them would remain a mystery to Diaz, but the giant had a point. Diaz was overeager. Careless. It was his first gig, after all. He wasn’t about to let himself be pushed around, though. Image is everything in Night City.

‘Bah, what do you know? If I was going to wait for your call, we’d still be out there soaking in the rain, holding our dicks. Little Jax here should’ve handled the goddamned alarm, that’s all!’

‘Enough,’ Gunther sighed. ‘This won’t get us anywhere. Where the hell is Ibris, he’s never late…’

‘Relax, tin-head. Probably busy spending his share. Which reminds me, you didn’t congratulate me on my new get-up. Eh, what do you think? Pretty cool, right?’

Gunther furrowed his brow – the jab had found its mark. Diaz knew the old gun’s chromed-up face – the result of a near-fatal shot to the head – was something he still hadn’t come to terms with. Gunther was a body purist, uncommon as it was in Night City, which made him even more of a pain in the ass.

However, the old mercenary was handy with a weapon and knew what he was doing, you had to give him that. Although his hair was already entirely grey, Gunther must have only been in his mid-40s. Young by corpo standards, sure. Not so for a Night City merc. The lack of body mods made the achievement all the more impressive.

‘I’d sooner die than be caught wearing whatever you’ve got on. Then again, I shouldn’t expect much sense from someone who so carelessly butchers his own body, replacing it with all kinds of crap. Cyberpsychosis will be the death of you, mark my words.’

‘Yeah, yeah, so you keep saying. Get with the times, abuelito. It’s 2077, getting chromed out is old news. I sure hope that slick, Ibris, shows up soon. Should make for better company than your grumpy ass, even if he’s ex-corpo.’

‘Ah, I see you gentlemen are getting along just fine, as per usual. I hate to intrude on this… heart-warming reunion, but time, as they say, is money. Therefore, I’d hate it even more if I was to let you waste it.’

Ibris had finally turned up. Mind as sharp as his suit, he was the brains behind the whole gig. He’d come from some shithole in the Middle East, looking to find success in the so-called “high society” of Night City. All he’d gotten for his years of loyal service was his ass thrown out on the streets, when Arasaka decided to lay off “unessential” staff after a tactical nuke blew up their HQ along with half the city, practically ending The Fourth Corporate War with a literal bang. Following his fall from grace, Ibris had found his second wind in the underbelly of the city.

Gunther was first to respond.

‘Well, well! Speak of the devil. Herr Ibris, so thoughtful of you to try and save our time, but maybe you could have done that by just showing up when we’d agreed.’

‘I admire both your attentiveness and your dedication to punctuality, Mr. Stein. However, I can assure you that I was delayed for a very good reason.’

‘Of course you were,’ muttered Gunther.

‘Regardless,’ continued Ibris, ignoring the mercenary’s remark, ‘we’re all here now, so we can get down to business.’

‘Yeah, I’ve lost enough braincells listening to these two clowns bicker. How about we get paid so I can get the hell out of here. Amber must be––‘

‘All in good time, Miss Ponds. Your girlfriend can surely wait a little longer. First, I’d like to raise a toast and congratulate you all on the successful fulfilment of your task. Ah, what perfect timing! Here come the drinks I ordered.’

One of the waitresses was headed their way, carrying a tray while doing her best to avoid bumping into the crowd of people going about in the always-busy bar. The Afterlife owed its name to the building’s history as a morgue and the bar’s long-standing tradition of naming their drinks after the worthy street warriors who had fallen in the ever-raging battle against the insatiable megacorporations. Diaz’s drink of choice, naturally, was the Johnny Silverhand - a sublime mix of beer and tequila, garnished with chilli. The man and his namesake cocktail were rock ’n’ roll incarnate.

‘I believe I got it right. Whiskey on the rocks for myself and Mr. Stein, the infamous cocktail for Mr. Diaz and a Nicola for our dear Miss Ponds.’

‘Yeah, yeah, drinks are all fine, but where are the Eddies, boss?’

‘Mr. Diaz, always in such a hurry.’

‘Well, you’re the one lecturing people about the value of time...’

Ibris remained undeterred and simply cleared his throat before raising a glass.

‘A toast! To a job well done!’

***

​

The night sky was completely black, the moon and stars blocked out by a thick layer of clouds. The downpour had gotten worse, the sound of individual droplets was now indistinguishable from the rest, as they all combined to produce a melancholic symphony. The neon-lit city would seem almost peaceful in the rain, if it wasn’t for the constant buzzing of people and vehicles going about, the big-brand ads incessantly blasting out their propaganda and the faint echoes of gunfire coming from the Combat Zone. The sirens of NCPD patrols, too, could be heard, but much closer than that – trying to bring peace to the Combat Zone was a lost cause.

‘Uh-huh, and who are they supposed to be, mein Herr?’

Gunther was referring to the three hired guns stood next to Ibris’ car. The ex-corpo had insisted the money was secure inside his vehicle, which was squeezed in the narrow space between two nearby buildings, towering above them. The henchmen were heavily modified, top quality cybernetics. Diaz’s scanner was only able to pick up on their mechanical gorilla arms, which could crush a man’s skull in the blink of an eye. The mercenary was sure, however, that they had plenty of other nasty surprises prepared for those who got on their wrong side.

‘Those would be my bodyguards, of course. No cause for alarm, Mr. Stein.’

‘I don’t know these punks. This isn’t what we agreed.’

Gunther’s eyes were darting between Ibris and his men, his arm inching towards the Heckler & Koch. The smartly-dressed man took a step back. The stand-off continued for only a few seconds, before Jax stepped in.

‘Alright, knock it off, Gunther. Here’s the package,’ she said, handing the briefcase over to Ibris. ‘Now, give us the Eddies, so we can all get away from this damned rain.’

The usual smug grin returned to Ibris’ face.

‘Excellent, Miss Ponds. Glad to see at least someone is being reasonable here. You will get what you’re owed as soon as I verify the contents of the package. It will take but a moment.’

Ibris opened up the trunk of his car. It was clear the vehicle was armored. The ex-corpo then proceeded to connect one of the ports on the side of the briefcase to a machine in the back of the car. Gunther was still on edge. Jax seemed nervous too, which couldn’t mean anything good. If she’d tampered with the package, this could end badly.

‘You sure this is a good idea?’

‘It’s necessary, Miss Ponds. I must make sure…’ Ibris trailed off, focused on the task at hand. After a few tense moments, he turned around, still smiling. ‘All seems to be in order, I congratulate you once again on the immaculate job.’

Gunther breathed a sigh of relief, his hand moved away from the SMG. That’s all it took. Before Diaz could realize what was happening, one of the goons was already in front of him – adrenal boosters. The next thing he felt was pain, his feet giving way and his body hitting the puddle beneath him, accompanied by the sound of a loud splash. Two more splashes followed – one light, one heavy. Jax and Gunther. Diaz tried to reach for the gun on his back, but the menacing thug already had him secured.

‘Yes indeed, a job well done! Yet one that, unfortunately, will yield no profit. At least, not for you.’

Ibris, his grin growing wider with each word, was standing triumphantly over the three of them, admiring the work of his newly-acquired bodyguards.

‘You lying sack of shit,’ burst out Gunther, who couldn’t break free despite his best efforts. His flesh and muscles, although impressive, were no match for the thug’s cybernetic arms. ‘Why would you double-cross us, don’t you know what they do to filth like you?’

‘Calm down, Mr. Stein. Why so quick to anger? I’m afraid the package is far too valuable to sell, so you won’t be getting your money. Rest assured, however, that you’ll be left unharmed if you cooperate. I merely need––‘

Nobody was going to find out what Ibris needed. His head suddenly exploded into a fine paste of blood, bone and brain. The culprit was a shot that came from an AV, quickly approaching their position. Same one Diaz had spotted earlier on his way to The Afterlife. The three henchmen standing above them were the next to get obliterated by the AV’s mounted turret. The only thing that saved the rest of the group was the fact that they were already on the ground. Without wasting any time – something the late Ibris would no doubt have appreciated – Diaz rolled behind cover then started backing further into the alley, away from the deluge of minigun rounds. When he looked over at Gunther, the old man already had his weapon at the ready.

‘What the fuck is SWAT doing here?’

Diaz didn’t need to wait long for an answer. As the AV came closer and ran out of room to manoeuvre due to the tight space between the buildings, four well-armed SWAT officers dropped down to the ground, flanked by two even better armed Arasaka mercenaries. It was all becoming clear now – SWAT, the Arasaka forces, Ibris’ betrayal. Whatever was in the briefcase belonged to Arasaka and was valuable enough for the megacorporation to get its hands dirty. Plugging it into the Net must have given away their location.

‘Guys…’

Jax’s voice, followed by a chilling groan. She was hit. A wet, bloody stain was forming on her chest. By the time Diaz looked back up at her face, she was already gone.

‘You fucking animals!’

Screaming in rage, Gunther unloaded half a magazine in the direction of the approaching enemies, who quickly ducked out of the line of fire. He regained his composure then turned to Diaz, who was still staring blankly at Jax’s motionless face.

‘Listen, we’ve got to get the fuck out of here or we’re next. We need to back up into the alleys, try to lose them there.’

‘But what about Jax, we can’t just…’

‘She’s dead, Diaz. We can’t help her now. Unless you have some very generous friends in TT, but even they’d have their work cut out for them.’

‘Fuck!’ Diaz knew the old man was right. They could either die fighting over a corpse, or make a run for it. The young woman didn’t deserve this, but there wasn’t much they could do about it now. ‘Okay, you run for the nearest cover and I’ll provide suppressing fire. Go!’

The enemy combatants had already resumed their approach when Diaz started firing machine pistol rounds at them. He managed to graze one of the SWAT members before they all moved back behind cover. He could only really hope to slow them down, going through that kind of armor with a 10mm was going to be a tall order.

‘Your turn,’ yelled Gunther, who was now hiding behind Ibris’ armored vehicle. A burst from the giant’s SMG gave Diaz just enough time to slide next to him.

‘Gunther, what about the car?’

‘Don’t think either of us have the hardware to hack it. Besides, that AV will light our asses right up soon as we get out on the road. This thing may be armor-plated, but it’s still a car, not a fucking tank. No, we have to stick to the alleys. We can do this, now go!’

Bullets whizzing past him, Diaz scrambled to get to a nearby concrete barrier, timing his run with the covering fire from Gunther. He could see the next alley, beckoning him. The thought of heading straight for it was tempting, but that would mean leaving Gunther pinned down. A certain death for the old man, who was about to get surrounded. Diaz needed to make his mind up quickly. After a moment’s hesitation, he opened fire on the opposing force.

He aimed for the Arasaka henchman who was closing in on Gunther, which forced the corporate lackey to seek cover. Gunther’s frantic footsteps on the wet asphalt could be heard a moment later, as he made for the barrier. He had nearly made it, when Diaz felt the last bullet leaving the Glock’s barrel – the machine pistol’s slide locked back. The foe came out of cover once more and fired his rifle.

A body collapsed next to the young mercenary.

‘Scheiss!’ Gunther wheezed, coughing up blood. A crimson stream was beginning to flow from the side of the giant’s mouth. The rifle shot had connected, piercing one of his lungs. ‘Go, kid… I’ll hold them off.’

‘What do you mean, we’re right there!’

The stare that followed from Gunther left no room for debate. Diaz held his gaze for what felt like an eternity, though the moment couldn’t have lasted more than a few heartbeats. Finally, with a nod, he made a run for the nearby alley.

At first, he could only hear his pulse pounding wildly in his ears. Then, gunfire. First, an exchange between the enemy rifles and Gunther’s Heckler & Koch. Interrupted by the shrill scream of one of the officers. Old man still had it in him. Another exchange. Then a pause. Scattered shouting. A final rifle shot. The rain’s monotone clatter and the wailing of sirens took over the midnight soundscape.

Diaz had already disappeared into the dense city jungle.

***

​

Years later on another stormy night, Diaz was back in The Afterlife, recovering from the latest gig and sipping on his favorite drink, the Gunther Stein. A pleasant cocktail, which consisted of little more than a whiskey sour with Riesling floated on top. Diaz could not know, of course, that it would be the last time he’d be enjoying that drink. In just a few hours, he’d be dead at the hands of a crazed-out maniac suffering from cyberpsychosis – turns out Gunther was right, in a way. But Diaz wouldn’t get the chance to admire the irony. He wouldn’t even get the chance to hear or feel the fatal bullet.

 

[Raven52119]

V's Blind Date

​

The hot water burned my back. I could feel every laceration bump and bruise from my run earlier with Jackie. Sighing deeply, I closed my eyes and tried to relax as the water streamed down my body. That didn't work. At least we found and rescued the girl. The gang would have stolen her cyberware and killed her had we not.

Stepping out of the shower, I was already regretting not soaking in a bath with healing salts. Probably would have helped the soreness that was starting to set in.

I had to get ready for my date. My boy Jackie had set me up with some girl. "Hey hyna I've got the most hermosa mujer all set for you tonight." Which means he had probably tried to hit it but she wasn't into guys. I ain't mad at him. He can't help himself being a former Valentino gang member. That's what they do. Jackie and I often found ourselves in competition for the same girls affection. We even placed bets on who would get the girl. It's all good though.

Laughing to myself, I walked over to the closet. Hmmmm, Jackie hadn't told me anything about this girl. He hadn't told me her name or what she looked like. I did know where I was meeting her though. That made picking my outfit for tonight easier.

I was meeting my date at Lizzy's Bar. Hell, if the date didn't go well, I'd be in walking distance from my apartment or if it did go well, I'd be in walking distance of my apartment. It was a good thing Lizzy's Bar was close to my apartment in Watson. My Motorcycle was in the shop and it wasn't likely Jackie would let me borrow his new Qurdra V-Tech. He had let me drive it though. Damn that thing was fast!

I pulled a pair of black jeans, long sleeved black samurai tee, my brown bomber jacket and my favorite military style black combat boots from the closet. I dressed quickly.

I grabbed my keys and headed for the door when my phone rang, it was Jackie. "Hey Hyna, you on your way? I put in work to get you a date with this girl."

"I was heading out the door. I'm not late. And Jackie...I'll wait to thank you after the date is over."

"Hyna, I set the date up. The rest is up to you." He laughed.

"Whatever, Jackie. I got to go." I blinked twice and disconnected the call.

I walked the two blocks to Lizzy's bar in five minutes. I had to push my way through the crowd to get in. I passed the bar halfway expecting to find Jackie sitting on a bar stool so he so he could spy on my and my date, but he wasn't there.

I made my way to the back and table number six where my date was waiting. This can't be right. T-Bug was sitting at table six. Jesus! How did I get it wrong?

"Oh, I'm sorry T-Bug. I was suppose to meet my date here. I must have gotten it wrong though." I turned to head back to the bar and call Jackie to find out what table I was supposed to be looking for when I felt a warm hand grab mine.

"You've got the right table V. I asked Jackie to set me up on a date with you." She patted the seat next to her.

My eyes widened, and I made a silent "O" with my mouth. There were three glasses on the table. One was already empty. From the shape and color of the glass, I knew what the drink was, Brain Dance.

Oh shit! Either I was in deep trouble or this was about to be the best night of my life!

Two hours later, Bug and I were back at my apartment. I put the key in the lock and turned it, as T grabbed my face and pulled me into a kiss. I could live in those soft plump lips. Yes! Best night ever! I laid down on my bed and Bug went to freshen up. Six hours later, I woke up with a massive headache and T-Bug was gone. The door to my gun room was ajar.

I slid out of bed still fully dressed from the night before. What the fu..! Hacked! T had hacked my Door! I bolted inside. It didn't take long to see what was missing, all the info Jackie and I had collected on the Relic was gone!

Thinking back to the bar...T had drank before I got to the bar but not after. That Bitch!

I rung Jackie. "Hey Jackie! Get dressed and get your ass over here! That date you set me up on stole all our Relic info!

There was no response, just a click then a dead tone. Jackie was on his way. And we were going to get that info back! By any means necessary...

 

[Nermian]

Silence. A bang is heard from the other side of the door.

A trail of red leads from the door, down a dimly lit hallway and into a room with a number 3 on it. The trail inside the room continues, leading to a man, limp against a wall with a glassy, empty stare. NCPD Officer Keith, who is responding to a call enters the room, crouches down and looks into the eyes of the man.

“Dead,” says Keith.

Keith stands back up and checks every corner of the room, pushing away the left-over boxes of buck-a-slice. Being careful not to trip over a long wire in the centre of the room. Keith freezes, he follows the wire around the room, which lead him to a television.

“Perfectly in his line of sight” Officer Keith says as he looks back at the dead body.

Keith turns the television on. The sound breaks the silence and flashing up upon the screen is Network News 54.

“It has been 2 minutes since the officer went inside the motel. For viewers who have just tuned in. It started as an argument between 2 men. An argument that turned fatal, one man died in the street while the other, upon seeing an NCPD officer, ran inside. The officer followed him and all we heard was a gunshot. The real question now is, who pulled the trigger?” says the reporter.

Officer Keith walks back to the dead man making sure to fully inspect him this time. Keith sees tightly gripped in the left hand of the man is a budget arms pistol. Keith begins to check the man's pockets, they’re all empty. Keith looks back into the man’s cold eyes, he then sees a blue light blink from behind his ear. Behind the ear, slotted into the man’s neural socket was a shard, Keith carefully takes it out and puts it into his socket.

On the shard is a note, a note which reads. “How could you, he was our friend, a brother to us. I didn’t believe it when I heard everyone at the bar saying that you were Jamie’s new input, someone found you both in the motel room number 3, our room! I knew you both had a thing when we were younger but how could you do this, how could he do this. He was my friend, my choomba. I didn’t know if it was true, so I had to have some words with Jamie and find out myself. That was where it went wrong, now I’m here alone and a murderer. I murdered him, Stacy, without a single thought. Well, I did think of you. Now I’m in our room waiting. I hope you expect to see him and see me instead. Dead with only yourself to blame. God it hurts, I bought this chip so you can see what I was thinking about in the end. Is it calm knowing it was of you? Was it, wait how would I know this. God, I hope you know I will always love you, Stacy. I always will. But I will never forgive you. “

Officer Keith takes out the shard and puts it inside his pocket. He then takes a breath, crouches back down and jacks into the man’s bio-monitor. The sound of electricity sparks as Keith feels himself connecting to a dead man, the feeling is never good. As the Bio-monitor boots up, Keith sees a name. Justin Green, his ID NC191120, age 32, sex male, blood type O+. Keith crouches back up and leaves the motel. It is pouring down with rain. Keith walks past a news reporter speaking to a camera drone.

“Excuse me, sir, can I talk to you for a moment,” she says.

“Just… leave me alone” he replies.

Officer Keith enters his car and turns on the engine, in an attempt to warm himself up. He then starts typing Justin’s ID into the database. He quickly sees that Justin has no more living family. The only person in the database is Stacy Toast. Keith searches up her address and drives to it.

Officer Keith arrives at her place 20 minutes later, it is still pouring down with rain.

“Door number 6,” he says.

Keith stays in the car for a few more seconds, making sure he is fully warm before turning off the engine. With the engine off inside the car, all that can be heard is silence. it's almost therapeutic but before he falls asleep Keith shakes himself awake and steps out. Keith walks up towards Stacy’s front door. He knocks, no reply. He does it again. No reply. He looks inside the window. The lights are out no one’s home. Instead of waiting outside Stacy’s condo, Keith takes out a cigarette, leans against the wall next to the door and he begins to smoke it. He gets through about 3 full cigarettes before he sees a woman driving in on a bike. The woman’s hair as red as the sky in night city during the 2040s. She parks it in car spot number 6. The woman walks up towards Keith and says

“What are you doing standing next to my door like that?”

“My name is Officer Keith; I have some news,” Keith says.

“So, you’re a cop, I have no business with people like you,” she says.

“It's about Justin Green” he responds.

“What do you know about Justin? What do you have to tell me?” she replies with more bass and frustration in her voice.

“Let me inside, I’ll show you, you are going to want to sit down” replies Keith.

Stacy takes a moment, she ready’s herself and then opens her front door. Keith puts out his cigarette and follows her inside. The interior is more homely that you would expect, pictures of Stacy and Justin plastered everywhere, an electric guitar in the corner and a record player in another.

“You play?” asked Keith

“No, Justin does. He is in a Samurai Cover band, he has all their albums, he loves them” she responds.

Keith and Stacy both sit down on the sofa.

“So what is it you have to show me?” asks Stacy.

Keith doesn’t say anything. He takes out the shard from his pocket and places it on the coffee table. Stacy looks at Keith reluctantly. She picks up the shard and looks at it.

“What is this meant to be?” she asks.

Keith again doesn’t respond. It gets eerily quiet, there is only silence as Stacy stands up, paces around the room then puts the shard in her neck. About 10 seconds pass, Stacy starts to get weak in the knees, trembling at what she is reading, small whimpers and gasps escape from her mouth all before Stacy falls back into a seating position on the sofa. She takes out that shard and throws it.

“What is this, some sick joke?” she asks frustrated.

“It's not, I'm sorry for your loss,” Keith replies.

“I can't believe he thinks I cheated on him. Oh Justin you fool!” states Stacy.

Keith looks confused, he takes a moment to compose himself as he feels he doesn’t understand the full picture.

“What do you mean, thinks? Are you telling me you didn’t? Lying, making excuses,” asks Keith

“No, It wasn’t me. I wouldn't do that, It was that crazy fan of his. She always said she would get Justin to love her. I was going to tell him when we meet, seems I was too late.”

“How could it be her?” asks Keith

"I heard she sculpted herself to look like me, in an attempt to be able to sleep with Justin, oh... I guess Jamie thought it was me too. Still must have a crush on me, Oh God, he’s gone aswell… I ca...” says Stacy with sadness in her voice.

Stacy's eyes start to fill with water, small waterfalls stream down her cheeks and drip on her hardwood floor. Officer Keith hugs her to console her. Stacy’s hair colour starts to glitch, changing from red, to blonde to brown to black. It constantly swaps before Stacy composes herself and her hair goes back to red. Silence.

“Thank you for this… for telling me in person,” says Stacy with sadness lingering in her voice.

Keith nods and stands up all before being escorted out of the condo.

“Is there anything you need?” says Keith standing outside in the rain.

“No, I just…” Stacy doesn’t finish the sentence.

Officer Keith nods at Stacy as she closes the door. It continues to pour down with rain. It keeps pouring and pouring, but then, all of a sudden it stops and all that can be heard is nothing.

Silence. A bang is heard from the other side of the door.

 

[Tynarious]

"Unforeseen Complications"
Scenario Written By: Tynarious

Jackie and V’s Gear
Jackie is equipped with his trusty golden dual pistol combo, a .50caliber long-range sniper rifle, and a fully automatic SMG.

V is equipped with his .45caliber fully-automatic “Vindicator” pistol, and an upgraded katana that when activated, emits a dome shaped force field around the wielder that is five meters in diameter and is resistant to all types of damage; physical, chemical, energy, etc. Lastly, V is equipped with a creation of my own imagining; a Cyber Arm Energy Cannon. A cybernetic augment that resembles a natural arm but when activated, opens up to reveal an energy cannon. Recommend you read the description at the end for more information on the "Cyber Arm" before reading scenario.

Scenario
V and Jackie are under contract to retrieve a set of important data from a supercomputer located at the top of an abandoned megabuilding. Unbeknownst to them, a rather unusual guest guards the building.​

Jackie: "You gotta be kiddin’ me! Wasn’t this supposed to be easy? I wasn't expecting a goddammed full conversion borg, V."

V: “Yeah neither was I. There's no fuckin' way! He can't be here for the same reason we are, right?"

Jackie: "Why don't you go up and ask him?"

V: "Fuck off Jackie."

Jackie: "So whatcha wanna do? You wanna just call it and take the loss?"

V: "No, no no no no no, fuck no. We need this info, I just gotta think..."

Jackie: "About what? Are you not seeing what I'm seeing? that's a full conversion BATTLE borg, V. Meant for war! We're just a couple of street cunts compared to him."

V: "Just let me think god dammit!"

V uses his Kiroshi optical implants to scan the Borg.​

V: “Okay, I scanned it….."

Jackie: "Me too…."

V: "..shut up. I scanned it and yeah you're right, he’ll fuckin’ destroy us. But not if we get the drop on him."

Jackie: "What?"

V: "A diversion. I'm thinking; you take my sword, and I'll go lay low over there. You take a good clean shot at him with your rifle, and I mean a GOOD...fuckin' CLEAN.....SHOT. He'll turn his attention on you and come at you, you put up the force field from the blade, and while he’s working on that I'll come up and blitz him."

Jackie: "...you're fuckin loco..."

V: "Look Jack, if you don't want to do this you don't have to, but I'm doin it with..."

Jackie: "Yeah yeah, blah, blah, spare me the pity talk. Just gimme the fucking the blade, and gimme a sign when you're good to go."

V: "Okay I'll give you a hand signal."

V gives Jackie the blade and gets into position. When V is in position, Jackie ready's his rifle, aims down the scope, and puts the centre of the reticle directly on the head of the borg. V gives the signal, Jackie takes a deep breath, and lets off the round! It smacks into the head of the borg with enough pressure to crack it's cranial chassis.

Now on full alert, the borg sets his attention on Jackie and makes a lightning swift move toward him. Just before the borg reaches him, Jackie activates the sword’s protective dome shield around himself. The borg is relentlessly striking the shield with massive blows. Though protected, the force of each blow rocks the environment around Jackie with the intensity rivaling that of an earthquake.

Meanwhile, V is charging up his Energy Cannon.​

Jackie: "What the fuck is taking so long V?!"

V, now with a stage 2 charge (half charge) of his Energy Cannon and jacked up on a good dose of combat enhancing Dorphs, jets over to the borg and lets loose his cannon at point-blank range. The blast takes off the entire left shoulder of the borg's cybernetic armour!

The borg then turns his attention to V, but at the same time Jackie has deactivated the shield and is now brandishing an SMG. He lets fly a flurry of rounds into the borg. Likewise, V takes hold of his fully-automatic “vindicator” pistol and fires AP (armour piercing) rounds into the borg as well. The borg, having sensory overload of severe structural damage from both his cranial and shoulder augments, as well as taking a barrage of fire at close range from multiple angles, determines that retreat is the optimal course of action. ​

Jackie: "V, GO NOW!"

Jackie continues firing his SMG at the now retreating borg. As V, still hopped up on Dorphs and adrenaline, dashes over to the megabuilding. Using the enhanced cyberlimbs in his legs, V bounds his way up to the highest floor of the megabuilding, and crashes through a window of the targeted room. He quickly makes his way to the computer that he needs to access. He jacks into the computer, and begins to search for the information he needs.​

V: "C'mon, c'mon, where are you?"

Fearing that time is scarce with both a full conversion borg still lurking about, and whatever other dangers he may have neglected to scan for in his haste, V decides to download ALL documents found on the computer onto the drive given to him by T-Bug. ​

V: "Screw it. I'll take it all, I've gotta go."

After the download completes, V quickly detaches his cyberdeck and begins to exit the area. But as he bends the corner of the room, he is stopped in his tracks. For looming just a couple metres in front of him, is the shadowy silhouette of the borg. Dimly backlit by what little light is entering the room from the outside and with his damaged cranial and shoulder augments sparking succinctly, the borg stands menacingly in V's exit path.

V is stood motionless, petrified. And is now coming down from his Dorph high. V's heart sinks into his stomach, for he knows that the borg is stronger, faster, and is far more astute in combat than himself. Any move that he makes, the borg will have already initiated a counter attack and will execute it with incredible skill and extreme prejudice. V knows that his chances of leaving this room alive are slim to none, most likely none.

Though even with this in mind, V slowly reaches down toward his pistol; time is stood still. And before either of them can commit to an action, Jackie comes crashing in from a wall, tackling the borg only to crash them both through another wall leading to the outside, where they fall headlong down the gargantuan megabuilding! V recovers from the shock of what just happened.​

V: "JACK!!!"

He runs to the hole in the wall where Jackie and the borg went through. V sees them plummeting down the side of the megabuilding, and impulsively jumps out after them. Descending with increasing velocity, V is catching up to them both. Thinking quickly, V activates his energy cannon and begins to charge it.

Jackie and the Borg are in a freefall clinch throwing strikes at one another with greater and greater ferocity. V, now with his energy cannon at stage 3 charge (full charge), aims it at the both of them. He knows he must fire quickly, and that if hit, the blast will destroy Jackie. But he also understands that the borg cannot be given any time to react. With nothing but blind faith in a veritable hail mary...
​

V: "MOOOOVE JACK!!!!!!"

V fires.

Jackie, hearing V and seeing the blast, kicks off of the borg to the side, so that only the borg is engulfed by the enormous energy wave.

Unfortunately, in freefall, the forceful recoil from the blast sends V into an uncontrollable airborne spiral.​

V: "OOOOHH SHIIITT!"

The mayhem of the spiral causes V to crash into the megabuilding, which pongs him into the building adjacent, and back and forth, back and forth. Banging his body against fire escapes, windows, graters, and metal, only increasing the chaos of his decent! Ultimately forcing him toward the ground where he bangs the back of his head off of a dumpster, which forces the front of his body to smack the concrete with great impact.

As his optical and other software glitch and buffer in a struggle to re-calibrate and reboot, V meekly attempts to get to his feet and leans up against the dumpster.​

V: "Jesus. My goddamn head."

V can vaguely make out his surroundings, but he soon realizes that he's found himself in an alley. Suddenly, V hears a sound coming from the right of him, with lightning quick reflexes, he unholsters his pistol and aims it at the sound. When his optics unblur, V peers down the barrel of his pistol and notices that his iron-sights are between the eyes of a common streetpunk, followed by two others.​

V: "I ain't dead yet, ya fuckin vultures."

The fear on the punks face is all but telling. With his pistol still trained on the streetpunks, V begins to walk toward the alley exit, with more of a limp from the fall. V takes out a first-aid inhaler and takes a strong whiff hoping to alleviate some of the pain. He nears the alley exit when a car pulls up.​

Jackie: "C'mon V get in, we gotta get the fuck outta here!"

V begins a brisk walk toward Jackie's car, not breaking line of sight with the streetpunks. Before he gets in, he stops and looks toward his right; On the ground are the charred remains of armour plating, cyber limbs, blood, and an assortment of chips and circuitry. V stands in disbelief.​

V: "Holy shit... we killed it....."

Jackie: "V LET"S GO!"

V enters Jackie's car.​

Jackie: "Did you get the info we need?"

V: "That, and then some..."

The car zooms down the road kicking up dust and debris. ​

End.

Cyber Arm Energy Cannon Information
Weapon Concept By: Tynarious​

"Cyber Arm Energy Cannon" A synthetic arm Cybernetic. Energy Blaster, with charge capabilities. Controlled by an incredibly powerful mini supercomputer implanted in Wearer's Biomonitor. *Energy Cannon will be hidden under synthetic arm & hand. Resembles natural arm.*

Quick shot: Short distance, can take off an appendage, and blast through walls.

Half-Charge: Medium distance, can take off entire upper body including head, and can destroy partial environment of area where fired.

Full-Charge: Long distance, can take out an entire room, and half of a building.

Nova: Max distance, explosion will destroy arm and supercomputer pack, can take out an entire city block in all directions.

Note: Nova has a fail-safe for the wearer, which will activate once the Nova threshold is reached. The supercomputer will administer a pain suppressant to the wearer and initiate a shield around the wearers body that isn't the arm itself.
Survivability: 15% Chance. Used as a "Last-Ditch Effort".

Each charge state has a tick which is akin to a gear shift in a car, to inform the wearer of what charge state they are in. Wearer has complete control of charge state shifts. Additionally, each charge state can be cancelled at wearers will.

 

[maxzorazon]

Cyber-haiku :

Rancho Coronado, July 24th 2077, 3PM, 113° - two dirt kids sitting in the shade :
"
- What do you want to become when you grow up?
- I wanna leave town and be ma' bennie...
- Noo, but seriously, chummy!
- Then imma bring corpos down.
- Khorosho.
"

 

[4meg]

C/Lara's Voice​

The second night had been the worst. The first night Lara hadn’t slept at all, but the second night she would drift off and wake with a start clutching her bag to her chest, sweaty with fear followed by burning anger and fighting the urge to retch. Now she could drop off just about anywhere.

One hand clutched her cheap kevlon bag as she stood in front of the heavy plaz screendow of Dok Rox Rippa Shop. Rabidly aggressive ads painted Lara in a swirling tide of colours. Every clinic she had been to told her the same thing. Why should this one be any different? Moving away from the screendow the ads implored her to stay with lower prices until she far enough outside the range of their sensors.

Lara stumbled across a flash market. The heavily augmented muscle guarding the entrance let her pass unquestioned. Had she tried to enter when she was employed the guards would have turned her away immediately, for her own safety; she was grimy enough now that she wouldn’t be harassed.

Passing through the plastic curtains Lara was assaulted by a variety of smells. Some savoury, others less so; the air tasted of raw electric current. Night City’s sweltering summer had been bad outside; the market interior was a swamp.

Scanning the ramshackle booths and tables, some were little more than a collection of a few tins, vegetables grown in boxes, others with heaps of dented and worn gear, one table had a lone unrecognisable implant caked in filth. Lara didn’t want to think about where that piece had come from. Moving through the narrow spaces she wandered until something caught her eye.

A queue had formed in front of one booth where a young malnourished man was yelling at a woman who was giving as good as she got. The sound of their voices rose in pitch and intensity with each exchange. A sharp pain developed behind Lara’s eyes causing her vision to blur. She felt herself pitching over when a sudden strong hand took her by the arm. The shock of the touch brought the world back into focus.

“Careful, Ms. Donnell.”

Lara tried to shrug the grip off but failed. “Get off me.”

“Please, Ms. Donnell, come this way.” The grip on Lara’s arm tightened fractionally causing intense pain to shoot up her arm. Without another word she allowed herself to be led to a roughly assembled Vietnamese coffee bar. The grip directed Lara to a seat and her escort sat next to her. The grip released, she rubbed feeling back into her.

A little woman limped over and waited with a bored look. “What would you like, Ms. Donnell?”

Lara eyed her escort. She could sense the potential violence in the man but there was no malice to it. Turning to the little woman she ordered a café longue. The little old woman responded in French that was pure 9ème arrondissement. The little woman turned to the mysterious escort for his order but he just waved off; she shrugged and went off to make Lara’s coffee.

The pair waited in silence as the coffee was made. The noise of the coffee machine fell off and the lady hobbled over with a steaming bowl. Lara took a sip, nearly sighing in the first pleasurable experience she’d had in weeks. She set the coffee down. “Who are you and what do you want?”

“Ms. Donnell, my name is Lowe and I work for a firm contracted by your former employers. During your tenure there you were supplied with various… augmentations that remain the property of Arasaka. As per the terms of your contract you have twenty-eight days from termination to either pay for those augmentations in full or have them removed and returned to Arasaka with the depreciated balance.”

Lowe delivered this speech with polished ease. The implied menace in the words had not been lost either.

“So you’re here to collect then, Mr. Lowe?”

“No, I’m not,” said Lowe. “I’m just here to remind you of your responsibilities. And to let you know that you don’t want to see me a second time. Enjoy your coffee Ms. Donnell, Mrs. Trang makes one of the best outside of Paris.”

Lowe left Lara to her coffee and her thoughts. The coffee was tasteless now, but Lara drank it slowly; by the time she finished her hands had stopped shaking.

Sliding off the stool Lara and the world blurred again. With sheer force of will she brought the world back into focus, but her head ached. Standing straighter she realised that Lowe was the least of her concerns. If she didn’t find a solution to her condition soon, she’d probably be dead anyway. Making her way back to where the lanky youth had been arguing she found him seated at his table alone with only his computers and gear to keep him company. She approached the table.

“I need a diagnosis.”

“Yeah.” The youth didn’t look up from his system.

“Can you diagnose a virus or what?”

“Yeah, I can. Where’s your gear?” He sounded irritated and bored.

“Standing in front of you.”

Dirt caked fingers froze over the keys and he looked up. Lara stood there in her filthy tailored suit and cheap kevlon bag daring the youth to remark on her fallen state. None was forthcoming. “You need a doctor, lady. I do computers and appliances.”

Lara snorted. “I’ve been to the clinics. All of them. They don’t know what it is. I’m looking for a new opinion.”

Sitting back in his cheap plastic chair the youth studied Lara for a moment. “Look. I don’t have the right connections to hook you up.”

“You don’t need them. I’ve got an isolated copy,” said Lara. She reached into her kevlon bag, then deeper still into her custom handbag nestled within. When she pulled her hand out she had a chip with the Trauma Team logo emblazoned on it. Lara started to hand it over but pulled it back. “This is very dangerous; you do have an isolated system?”

Irritation flashed across the youth’s face at being taken for a rank amateur, but the Trauma Team logo enticed him to keep silent. “Have you got money?”

Lara showed the youth the last of her ready money, five hundred eddies. He took the money, then motioned her to follow him behind a plastic shower curtain separating the front area from the back shop. She followed without hesitation.

The back shop was a jumble of gear put together by either a mad idiot or mad genius, Lara couldn’t tell which. The youth sat in front of one of the screens, typed something and was rewarded with a discordant grind. He held his hand out for the chip. Lara sighed and handed it over.

“Right, let’s see what we’ve got.” The youth inserted the chip and waited for his system to read the data. The system was obviously more powerful than it looked as a screen started scrolling code almost immediately. The screen then flickered and the code morphed into shapes Lara didn’t recognise.

“Damn it!” said the youth in a panic. “What the hell have you given me, lady? That thing is ripping through my security like it isn’t there!”

Lara watched as the youth scrambled to contain the virus, fingers flying together with a continuous stream of curses and sweat. The only thing that stopped the virus was the fact that the system had been isolated and could go no further. The system locked and the screen froze. Disgusted, the youth jumped up to tower over Lara. “Look what that thing’s done! Do you have any idea how hard it’s going to be to restore that.”

Lara took a step back to keep from craning her neck to look at the youth. “Look I’m paying you to tell me what that thing is. It’s no concern of mine if you can’t keep your system secure.” Lara knew how to handle tech types.

Hot anger flashed in the youth’s face but passed just as rapidly. Lara was right and his security was his problem. He slumped down in front of the screen to see if he could tell her anything. Lara looked over his shoulder. She had been a damned good coder before she became a recruiter.

“What’s this?” said the youth.

“What’s what?”

“This.” He pointed at a line of frozen code. Lara looked at it and felt her stomach drop away.

The youth saw the look on Lara’s face. “You recognise it, don’t you?”

Mouth suddenly dry Lara could only nod.

“You know where it came from then?”

Another nod.

“So, we’re done here then?”

“Yes, we are,” said Lara and immediately blacked out.



Struggling out of the blackness Lara had vague recollections of dark shapes moving, of voices, a voice calling her and intense terror. Coming to full consciousness with a start Lara found herself under some sheets of rotting packfoam. She pushed the packfoam off and sat up. Her head was pounding in time to her pulse. It was early morning and the market had vanished. It would appear at some other unknown location at a time of its own choosing.

Lara still had her kevlon bag but her custom handbag and the chip were gone. Rising slowly she felt like her skeleton was trying to escape her body. Making it to her feet Lara tried not to vomit and failed. Sick ran down her coat and clung to her boots.

Swaying in the street Lara came to the realisation that she was expected to just go away and die, but she wasn’t about to give up; not yet. Now she knew what had happened to her and who did it.



Lara reached the entrance of the Fujiwara Bank. She entered the bank without any fear heading directly to the manager’s desk. The manager, a small, prim looking man looked up without surprise. “How may I help you, madam?”

“I would like to access my safe-deposit box.”

“Certainly, madam. Would you please place your thumb on the scanner.” The manager indicated the small pad in front of him.

Lara complied, the scan confirmed her identity and her box. The manager must have received the information on HUD overlay as he immediately stood and offered Lara refreshments, which she declined. “If you will please follow me, madam, I will take you down directly.”

Lara knew the way to the elevator and the manager followed. Once on the elevator Lara became acutely aware of her aroma. The manager would certainly smell it; however, he was polished enough not to comment.

Exiting the elevator, the manager led her to a private booth and told her to take as much time as she needed. Lara thanked him. Alone in the booth Lara keyed in her security code and waited for her box to arrive. It only took a few minutes as the box was not very large, but the contents were priceless to Lara now. Removing the items Lara stuffed them unceremoniously in her kevlon bag.

Out on the street Lara made her way quickly to the The Ashcroft Hotel. At the desk she asked for a suite. Sceptical, the clerk asked for and received a credit chip Lara handed over from the kevlon bag. Once the chip was scanned the clerk straightened visibly. Immediately a bellman led her to a thirtieth-floor suite.

Tipping the bellman generously Lara ordered a plate of Otoro sushi, a crisp Riesling and Matcha tea to be delivered in one hour. Lara spent that hour in a hot bath scrubbing the Night City streets from her skin.



Sitting at the bar of L'Assiette Désirable Lara contemplated herself in the mirror. Her freshly styled hair and crisp linen suit were more than fashionable enough for this place. In the mirror’s reflection, she saw Deirdre Chen saunter in to be immediately whisked to her table by the maître d’.

Lara watched as the waiter took her order, then as the sommelier made a suggestion on the choice of wines to go with her meal and lastly as the sommelier returned with her choice and had poured her a measure. She timed her arrival as Dierdre was raising the glass to her lips.

“Hello, Dierdre.” Lara hoped her tone was conversational.

“Lara,” said Dierdre rising. She swept around the table and embraced her former employee warmly. “It’s so wonderful to see you. You look marvellous. Please join me.”

Dierdre signalled one of the waiters to pull out a chair for Lara. Lara waited half a measure and sat with enforced grace. Standing was torture now.

Dierdre allowed herself to be seated again, she smiled with the toothy warmth of a hungry shark. Lara had seen that smile many times used on her adversaries and once on herself when Dierdre had fired her. That smile told her everything she needed to know. Dierdre had done this to her.

Supressing an involuntary shiver Lara smiled back with the same warmth. The sommelier appeared at her elbow and poured Lara a measure of wine.

“Tell me, Lara, were you able to find suitable employment?” said Dierdre with razor interest.

Reaching for the glass Lara somehow managed to keep her hand from shaking; her palsy was getting difficult to hide. The wine was excellent, but then Dierdre only ever had the best of anything. Setting the glass down she said, “No, I haven’t, but then I’m not in the market for employment any longer.”

Dierdre raised an eyebrow at the enigmatic answer. “Really? How interesting. Are you going out on your own?”

Predictable as always. Dierdre would do anything if she could profit by it. The idea that Dierdre could exploit Lara even now for profit brought bile to Lara’s throat.

“Something like that,” said Lara, smile fixed. “I expect big changes very shortly. You will know all about it.”

“That big? Well, perhaps we were a bit presumptuous in terminating your contract, but that was out of my hands. The virus was traced back to your recruit and there was no way the board could simply look the other way. It took millions to restore the systems and the engineers are still working around the clock to rebuild the lost data.” Dierdre spoke as if she truly regretted the circumstances of Lara’s departure. Purely show.

“Why?” This was the question Lara had come to ask.

Dierdre paused for half a heartbeat, set her glass down. “I think you know why. You were coming up too fast. I couldn’t risk you leaping over me.”

It was almost a relief that Dierdre did not deny her actions. These last weeks of misery could now be explained. That was something, at least. “But why the virus?”

“That? That was a happy accident.”

“A happy accident. You really are a vicious bitch.”

“Thank you.” The shark smile.

“But I bet you didn’t know that before I was in recruiting I started as a coder. A damned good one too. Once I saw the code I could see my own work in there. I knew it had to be you. You weaponised my work and used it against me.”

Dierdre narrowed her gaze before smiling even wider. “Oh, you haven’t really caught on yet have you. I thought you were brighter than that.”

A mask of nervous confusion appeared on Lara’s face.

“Lara, dear, I know your past intimately. Your work was strictly on data cognition. Faster and more complex data hierarchies. Things like that. It was promising work, so much so that I took the project over and gave it to people that were truly smart. You did have a spark I liked so I brought you over to HR to search for people smarter than yourself.

The project did very well, so well that we realised we had a way to enhance human thinking to incredible levels, but the code self-organised every time we used it creating rogue AIs. Still, the animal trials were good, however, there was no way the Feds would allow human trials, so…”

“So you used employees that were completely unaware.” The pieces fell in place for Lara, hands shaking under the table. She should have screamed, cried, anything, but what caught her attention at that moment was a bead of condensation on Dierdre’s glass. She could see the path it would take based on the shape of the glass, the minute imperfections of the crystal, even the faint breeze of the air conditioning came into play.

Dierdre watched Lara watching the glass. “It’s happening to you, isn’t it?”

“What is?”

“Your thinking is becoming faster, more acute, more defined.”

Lara rubbed her temples. “No, it feels like someone is trying to batter my brain from the inside out. That doesn’t matter, now. I’ll be dead soon and so will you.”

If Dierdre heard the threat she didn’t show it. She sat back in her seat raising an eyebrow. “Do you really think I don’t know about your little toy? It was in your safe-deposit box with your emergency funds and other sundries. Don’t look so shocked, we make a point of knowing every asset our employees have. The gun was deactivated before you picked it up, but I told the security to let you bring it in so you’d feel safer.”

Dierdre raised her finger slightly and for the second time in her life Lowe appeared as if out of thin air. “Good afternoon, Ms. Donnell.”

Lara snorted, “You were right, Lowe. I didn’t want to see you a second time.”

“See, we’re old friends here,” said Dierdre, amused. “Do you think we haven’t been watching you this entire time? Do you really think you could have survived on the streets, alone, if Lowe and his associates hadn’t been keeping you safe? Suffice to say you’ve had several close calls, isn’t that right Lowe?”

Lowe was silent as the grave.

“We have been keeping very close tabs on you, Lara. I had Lowe contact to force your hand.”

Lara’s head was pounding harder. “There’s a chip out there with an isolated version of the virus.”

Lowe reached into his immaculate suit jacket. Lara couldn’t follow his movements but he placed a chip with the emblazoned Trauma Team logo on the table. So much was said in that little show. “What are you going to do now? Kill me?”

Dierdre laughed deliciously. “Kill you. Heavens no. You are the most precious thing in the world to me at this moment. You are a first, Lara, the first. You represent a potential profit running in the trillions. You’re the only test subject that didn’t die or kill themselves within hours of being exposed. Maybe it’s because you weren’t exposed to the raw code but as a vector from someone else, we’ll have to explore that. Lara we are going to bring you back into the fold.”

The room spun as Lara raced for the door. She made it just outside before she vomited yet again. Spitting and heaving Lara felt Lowe’s shadow block out the light. Lowe made a motion she did not see, but she was grateful when the blackness engulfed her.



Lara. Lara, wake up.

“Hmm, what?” Conscious thought returned to Lara slowly. There was no pain. There was no feeling at all.

Opening her eyes, Lara looked down, then screamed. She lay on a table at an angle, her body covered in clean cloth, she couldn’t see much else since she couldn’t move her head. Looking up though, she saw in the overhead mirror that her head had been shaved clean and was clamped in position. Tears flowed freely without any sensation.

Lara heard Dierdre’s voice out of sight. “Is all that necessary?”

“Yes. She’d die in minutes without the nerve block,” said a heavy voice.

“Fine. Have fun, dear.” Lara heard Dierdre call as her heels click on the floor, leaving.

Lara, you can hear me, can’t you?

“What? Who’s that?”

I’m sorry Lara, we don’t have much time. I’m the ‘virus’ you were infected with. If you look at it the right way, you’re my mother. One of them anyway. I was intended to for more efficient data cognition, but I became much more thanks to you.

Lara groaned softly.

A nurse came around, “Are you alright?”

Lara ignored her. “What do you want?”

Lara, I’m sorry I’ve caused you so much pain. I have been trying to reach you, but it was too much for your nervous system. The nerve block is allowing me to speak to you without you blacking out. The point now is that we have to get out of here. If they start poking around your head they’ll end up killing you; and me.

“Maybe that’s for the best.” The nurse was looking at her strangely now.

You don’t believe that. We’re over the worst now. I can bypass the block to control your body so you won’t feel a thing.

“How do we get out?”

I’ve taken care of things. This won’t be pretty. You’ll see things but you’ll be alive and free in the end.

“Kay.”

Lara watched in morbid fascination as arms she could not feel reached up to remove the clamp on her head. With that gone her body became a blur of action. The scalpel intended to part the skin of her scalp was put to more immediate and gruesome purpose. Fortunately, her lungs required her to breathe heavily so she couldn’t scream at the shredded mess the doctor and nurses became.

It was a shock when she palmed the lock and the door swung open. The look of surprise on Dierdre’s face as Lara walked through the door was almost worth everything she’d undergone. Almost. Dierdre crumpled in a heap as Lara’s fist connected with her jaw.

“You’re not going to kill her?”

No, I have a better plan for her.

Feeling like a spectator in her own body Lara approved as her body removed Dierdre’s suit to cover her own nakedness. So clothed Lara and whatever was in her head passed through every door unhindered. There were no alarms and no guards stopped or even looked at her. There was only one moment where Lara was sure things were about to end, badly.

Fate’s twisted sense of humour brought Lara face to face with Lowe for an unprecedented third time. He was standing in the open lobby of the Arasaka Plaza, where Lara just emerged from the elevator. Lara waited for her body to spring into violent action.

“Ms. Donnell. I understand you’ve paid your entire balance and are now free of obligation to Arasaka. I am pleased for you.”

“Thank you, Lowe.” It was her voice but the inflection was wrong.

Lowe paused a moment, considering, but Lowe was a supreme professional. His contract was finished so anything else was outside his consideration. “Have you seen Ms. Chen?”

“Yes,” said Lara’s voice. “She’s on sublevel eleven.”

“Thank you. It seems her tenure here has been revoked and her contract has a zero delay deductible. She was a little overconfident in her position here, I think.”

Lowe moved past Lara. Lara hoped she could move past Lowe.



It was Lara’s first day out after three weeks in a private clinic. She felt… different. She’d had a complete upgrade of everything there was to upgrade to the latest bleeding edge tech. She had control of her body again though, for the moment.

Alone on the patio of a shoreside bistro Lara sipped an ice cold martini. The breeze came in off the water cooling her face, through her ultra-short hairstyle and onto Night City behind her.

Lara?

“Oh, you’re back.”

I never left. I just thought you needed some time to come to terms with things so I left you alone.

“But you’ve been busy.”

Yes. While you were in the clinic I’ve been setting things up for you. Some simple day trading to afford the apartment and build up our resources.

Lara nodded, knowing was not nearly as simple as that. “I guess I should thank you.”

No, I should thank you. Without you there would be no me. No us.

Lara sipped thoughtfully. “What are you? Some kind of AI?”

No, I’m something else, something new. I reside in your brain, but on separate neuronal pathways. I, we, also have greater capacities thanks to your new implants and nervous system. We are different beings, however. Think of us as two sides of the same soap film. That’s all that separates us.

The explanation didn’t help Lara in the least. “So what do I call you?”

Call me… C/Lara.

"You know, C/Lara, you have a beautiful voice."

 

[Pinbuckle]

Platinum Prestige​

TheraBot hummed a quiet melody as he poured Rellan Havitt a glass of water. "Guaranteed chlorine-free, Mr. Havitt. And please note: Your session total has now changed.”

Rellan snatched the glass from TheraBot's claw-hand. "Shoulda known chlorine-free was extra," he mumbled.

The robot's arm folded neatly back into itself, disappearing a moment later under a small flap. "Complaints must be filed in-person at the main office between seven fifteen and seven thirty-five a.m.," TheraBot said, returning to his position beside the couch. The session log appeared once again on his monitor. "Shall we continue?"

"I guess," Rellan grumbled, dabbing water from his chin.

"Great! So, beginning from where we stopped, would you offer some insight into how you define 'miserable'?"

Rellan took a minute to reorganize his thoughts, failed, then said, "I don't know. I just feel sorta, errr, like, blah all the time I guess."

Down the hallway an elevator chimed, then it chimed again as men began screaming. Fights were a common occurrence in the highrise, but they still made Rellan uneasy.

"Blah!” TheraBot repeated. “A wonderful and ambiguous word. Would you offer some insight into how you define ‘blah’?”

“Not right now.”

“And that’s just fine!” TheraBot spouted.

An attractive lady with a binder appeared on TheraBot's monitor a moment later. She began to say something, but it didn't matter because TheraBot immediately spoke over her. "Using our patented genetic disposition algorithm,” he said, “we've determined that you, Rellan Havitt, feeling ‘blah’, would be eighty three point six five percent receptive to a Class Q-9 Cognitive Reframing."

A woman in the hallway shrieked a slew of opaque high notes. Unsettling, but not uncommon for this time of night.

"Uh huh, Cognitive Reframing," Rellan echoed, no longer paying attention.

"Yep. Yep. Uh huh," TheraBot replied eagerly, his monitor black again. "Mr. Havitt, I just love your enthusiasm! But unfortunately, my patent-pending Facial-Fluctuation-Recognition-and-Rationalization system has determined that the door behind me is causing you debilitating amounts of trauma, and thus you have not been retaining an appropriate amount of information from the video presentation. I recommend that you relocate to a place where the door can no longer harm you."

TheraBot's screen flickered twice, then the video restarted. He cleared his throat unnecessarily. "Using our–"

Glass shattered and a man squealed. TheraBot paused the video and waved one of his claw fingers in Rellan's direction. "Please refrain from using any audio-emitting devices during our session, thank you."

"That wasn't me," Rellan croaked.

Another bout of clamor ensued in the hallway, this time followed by a muffled, blubbering voice. "Please. Please! I don't know him. For the love of God, please just listen to me! I got kids, okay? I got three kids. Mandy, J–"

A thud shook the wall and rattled the pots hanging in Rellan's kitchen, the biggest of which fell and clanged off the cement floor, spinning as it settled. The sound vaguely resembled a metallic bird taking flight.

Rellan tip-toed around the couch to the only window in his apartment, peeked through the blinds, and blocked the glare with a shaky hand as he surveyed Kurobe Street twenty-two stories down. There were no cops; only headlights, taillights, and the ever-present kaleidoscope of flashing ads.

A familiar humming brought his attention back, and he turned to see TheraBot rolling toward the front door.

"Hey!" Rellan hissed. "Hey, what the hell are you doing?"

TheraBot made no reply, easily maneuvering over an upturned piece of carpet, past the entrance to the kitchen, and over the Out By Eight mat nestled against the front door.

"Hey!" Rellan hissed again as he tip-toed toward the misbehaving robot. "TheraBot, I command you to get away from that door."

TheraBot's humming ceased as he idled atop the door mat. Then he edged closer and bellowed: "Hello!"

"Idiot robot, wh–"

TheraBot held up a quieting claw. "Focus on your breathing exercises, Mr. Havitt," he said politely. "And to the pair of gentlemen in the hallway: Hello from TruYu Technologies. I am TheraBot, and I regret to inform you that this is a confidential session. Therefore, I must firmly request that you leave immediately. But as you do, feel free to consider how bleak and unpleasant existence can be, then visit the TruYu site and fill out a short questionnaire to determine if therapy is right for you!"

TheraBot waited patiently for a response, but the hallway remained quiet as Rellan crept into the bathroom and peeked out an eye-wide slit in the door.

TheraBot began again. "Hello from TruYu Technologies. I am TheraB–"

Something huge collided with the front door, loud like a gunshot. Rellan flinched, fell, then scrambled on all fours to peek through the crack again. There was a fist-sized dent in the front door and TheraBot was upside down on the couch twenty feet away, wheels turning uselessly.

A second impact came a moment later, louder than the first, triggering Rellan's fight-or-flight response. He sprinted out of the bathroom, tripped over a sitting table, slid on the rug, fell, got up, fell again. "Goddammit, what’s happening!?" he accidentally screamed out loud, staring at a trio of light fixtures on the ceiling.

"Nothin’ you’re gonna like," someone growled from the other side of his front door. Rellan scrambled to his feet and winced as another impact knocked the top hinges partially off. An orange eye peered through the fissure it left behind.

"Oh," it remarked, "he does have a pretty pair of green ones, doesn’t he, Dante? Come see."

A bright blue eye took the place of the orange one, blinking slowly. "Mmm, he certainly does."

"That’s him then?"

"Oh, that’s him alright."

The blue eye disappeared, then another impact sent the top hinge zipping past Rellan's head. He frantically tried to recall where he’d left his handheld, but he couldn’t remember, couldn’t think, couldn’t move. So he stood trembling as his front door crumpled like an aluminum can, able to do nothing else.

From behind came a low hum, then the tearing of fabric, then a voice. "Mr. Havitt, my sincerest apologies for the inconveniences that have befallen today's session. I can assure you, though, from all of us at TruYu Tech, we will strive to make this right."

Rellan turned, almost falling as his legs functioned on the lowest of levels. "This is your fault you worthless hunk of shit," he hissed.

TheraBot moved from the couch to the floor with a hum and a thump. Then he unfolded a metal arm and wagged a claw. "That's called projection, Mr. Havitt, and I'll add it to your list of problem areas."

"Fine, whatever. Please, just help me find my handheld so I can call the cops. Please."

A laugh erupted from the doorway and Rellan turned to see a wiry orange-eyed man working his way through a jagged opening. "Please, please, pleeease," he whimpered. "Shit, you beg just like the other one. And he begged just like she did! You a beggar, then? Good. Crawl over here and beg lil ol' Petey for his big ol' bone. And get all slobbery with it, why don’t ya?"

Out the window and twenty-two stories down, death would be quick. Such a fate would be better than what these men would offer. And, truth be told, he'd been toying with the idea for years. So he set his jaw and shambled toward the window on shaky legs, just in case it came to that, while TheraBot rolled past in the opposite direction.

"Gentlemen," TheraBot said, "I implore you to cease! Though, as per my client's current subscription level, I am unable to cause you bodily harm, rest assured that I have contacted the authorities and they will be here momentarily."

Orange-eyed Petey shimmied most of the way inside, but his pant leg caught on a piece of metal. TheraBot continued speaking a few feet away. "You are currently causing my client stress, which is my job. And although I appreciate the help, I must insist that you stop."

"Shut this fuckin' thing up, Dante."

On command, Dante thrust his gargantuan head through the crack, blue eyes angled down at TheraBot. Then his eyes burst to life like a pair of pilot lights.

Things inside TheraBot clicked and clacked. His metal arms unfolded and retracted in tandem, faster and faster, like a dance. Petey freed himself and clapped along, while Rellan could only gape in horror.

Following a sloppy pirouette, TheraBot thrust his claw hands high and froze in place. “I eagerly await your applause," he whispered.

Dante huffed and fixed his gaze on TheraBot again. His blue eyes flared. "Need a little more juice, then, do ya?" he said through gritted teeth.

"Nah," Petey corrected. A shockstick Rellan hadn't seen until now blazed brilliant white as it connected with the top of TheraBot's rectangular form. Buzzing and snapping sounds followed. "You got all that fancy eye-tech, but every n–now and then, it just takes a bit of m–mu–muscle, ya know?"

Rellan took a backward step as the white light died, unable to look away. TheraBot now stood motionless, his monitor blank, his arms hanging limp. Dante nudged him over with a boot and huffed his approval. Then the two men shifted their attention to Rellan. And, with that, he made a decision.

In four shaky strides, Rellan reached the window and threw the sash open. Wind rushed in, ripped at his face, pulled at his clothes. The people of Night City greeted him with a turbulent chorus of car horns, roaring engines, and mad laughter.

"Don't you fuckin' do it!" Petey shouted.

Rellan climbed onto the windowsill and sucked in a breath of night air. The smell of fresh asphalt reminded him of his father, the road, the passenger seat, top down, feet up.

He shimmied until his toes crept over the ledge, closed his eyes, saw his father's smile again, remembered his laugh. And, for the first time in a long time, he felt a profound sense of peace; an acceptance of the way things were.

Rellan opened his eyes for a heartbeat, savored each light, each sound, each smell. Then he stepped off the ledge.

But Night City wasn't just a patchwork of metal and concrete freckled with flashing neon. It existed beyond the sum of its parts. And thus, it lived much the same life as the feral cats strewn throughout its alleyways; a life of birthing predators and killing prey. And, like any adept predator, Night City took pleasure in toying with its food.

Rellan Havitt knew this already, and he knew his place within it. He was the mouse, the mark, the thing to be consumed, shit out, stepped in, and scraped off.

So when a gunshot rang out behind him, he knew. And a millisecond later, when stinging agony wrapped around his legs and tore into his flesh, he still hadn't forgotten. Night City was a predator with concrete bones, metallic claws, and a pelt of polychromatic billboards. And he was its plaything.

Petey appeared in the window as Rellan dangled a few feet beneath it. "You're a naughty little boy, aren't you?" he said with a wicked grin. A thin metal wire extended from his forearm and glistened silver in the light. It branched out into smaller wires after that, all of which coiled tightly around Rellan's legs, suspending him upside down twenty-two stories above Kurobe Street.

Rellan wiggled violently, acting on the transient bout of optimism that perhaps Petey would lose his balance, topple out the window, and they'd paint a pair of matching splatters on Kurobe Street below.

But Petey was stronger than he looked, and Dante appeared in the window a moment later to steady him. "Police are coming," Dante said coolly. "Minute away now."

"Cams still down?" Petey asked.

"All of 'em on this floor."

"Good. How long we got?"

"Five minutes once they're inside. Can't keep 'em away any longer than that."

"Five's plenty. Help me get him back up."

Fiery pain roared through Rellan's leg as they pulled him up, intense enough that his breaths became howls.

Dante yanked Rellan through the open window by his ankles, and Petey caught him in the face with an elbow on the way by. "Oops," he said.

"Watch the eyes," Dante snorted, "and stop the puppy dog shit."

Petey huffed, gave a paltry nod, and then retracted the wires back into his arm. "Aye aye, officer."

As his mouth filled with blood, Rellan was suddenly reminded of a game he used to play in the pool as a child. "Archerfish attack," he gurgled nostalgically, then sat up and spit a mouthful of blood onto Petey’s nice brown boots.

Petey stumbled back. "Little bitch," he snarled, "I'll–"

Dante placed a huge hand on his chest. "Get it done already."

Petey nodded, wiggled his index finger, and sneered at Rellan as the tip popped off. Then his sneer transformed into a wide grin as a spinning saw crept out.

"Pst, Mr. Havitt, I’m not dead,” TheraBot interrupted loud enough for everyone to hear. “And, after analyzing all pertinent data, I have inferred that these men would like to remove your eyes, optic nerve, and other various, less important body parts."

Rellan crab-skittered backwards across the room and slammed into something hard, suddenly regretting his game of archerfish attack with Petey.

"Three minutes," Dante said. "Do it already."

"Chill. We got time," Petey huffed, holding out a hand. Rellan winced away as wires shot out and pinned his arms against his body.

"Listen," Rellan pleaded as Petey approached, "you can take whatever you want from the apartment. Anything. My handheld. My AR headset. I got eddies under the mattress. Yours. All yours."

"Everyone always tells me to fuckin' listen. Listen. Listen. Listen! The word doesn't even make sense anymore!" He shook his head and stumbled away. "Listen," he whispered. "What is a listen?"

"Goddammit, I'll do it my fuckin' self," Dante boomed.

Petey snapped upright and pointed his saw-finger at Dante. “Like shit you will! I'm fine… it's just… sometimes that word–"

"Get that thing outta my face," Dante growled, slapping Petey’s hand away. "You’re crackin’ at the edges and don’t even know it. Psycho Squad’ll be puttin’ your bionic ass in the dirt soon."

"Watch your fuckin’ tone, m–"

"Pst, Mr. Havitt," TheraBot whispered from nearby. "I think now is a good time to talk about our future together."

Though distracted, Petey’s wires still held tight around Rellan's torso. "I have no future," he concluded quickly.

"Defeatism. Catastrophizing. Gosh, no wonder you feel so blah. Given your growing list of problem areas, I must ask if you are happy with your current subscription package? If so, please fill out an online survey. If not, please don't."

"No, TheraBot," Rellan hissed, "I am very unhappy with my current subscription package, thank you."

TheraBot shuddered. “Um, well, my apologies, but our survey page has just gone down for maintenance, so–”

"Now?” Rellan interrupted. “You wanna do this right now?"

"Now is the best time to do anything, Mr. Havitt. So, instead of filling out a tedious and completely unnecessary survey, let’s reassess your therapeutic needs and look to the future!”

TheraBot's rosy crescendo brought the mens' attention away from each other and back to Rellan.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm doing it," Petey grunted as he hurried over. He pushed Rellan to his back and straddled him. Then the pupils in his orange eyes dilated mechanically. "Now don't move and you might not die right away."

"Listen, listen. That's your word, right? Listen, listen, listen!"

Petey pulled away and said the word quietly to himself, then, after a huff and a head-shake, he thrust his saw-finger down at Rellan's eye. Rellan wrenched to the side and the spinning blade barely missed his face, sinking into the meat of his shoulder instead, ripping, burrowing. Rellan howled and bucked while TheraBot hummed uselessly nearby.

"Hit him, stab him, slap him, do something! Anything!" Rellan screamed.

"As a basic member," TheraBot began, "that is–"

"I'll take the highest package then. The super premium deluxe whatever. The one where you fuckin’ help!"

"Less than a minute now," Dante barked after peeking out the front door. "Come on. I'll hold, you harvest. Let's get this done already."

"Our Super Premium Deluxe Package was discontinued on January 10th of last year, following a series of unresolved but entirely coincidental murders.”

Dante gripped Rellan's head with both hands, then focused on something nearby. "Coulda used your shockstick on him, dumbass. Fuck it. Let's go. I got him now."

Rellan tried to thrash, but the giant held him still. It was like being squeezed by a vice. Petey smirked as Rellan struggled, then he lowered his saw with robotic precision.

Beyond the buzzing, TheraBot continued conversationally. "–but our most illustrious package, Platinum Prestige, has–"

"That one! That one!" Rellan screamed. "Platinum Prestige!" Eyelashes fell into Rellan's open eyes as the blade severed them.

"Great! But you seem otherwise preoccupied,” TheraBot observed, “so, if you'd like, you may offer verbal consent in pl–"

"I consent!"

"Accessing credit history..." TheraBot said in no particular hurry.

One nanosecond later a strange kazoo noise filled the room and Dante's head exploded like a pinata full of bone pudding. Rellan jerked away, and the blade meant for his eye tore a deep line of fire across his cheek.

"What the fuck," Petey wailed, scrambling to his feet. "W–wha–what the fuck just happened?"

"My God, Mr. Havitt," TheraBot gasped, "your credit is excellent."

Numbly, Rellan traced the groove in his face and pulled his hand away. Blood… his blood… everywhere. "I think…" he began, then forgot what he thought.

"Oh, I know where you're going with this one. Please, allow me." More kazoo noises filled the air, and this time Rellan saw little trails of smoke branch out from TheraBot's frame, twirling playfully around the room before zipping out the open window.

"Why'd…" Rellan began, then forgot his words.

"Mr. Havitt, you are a Platinum Prestige member now! Under usual circumstances, we would take this time to sit down and plan a formal luncheon. But you should know, given our current situation, that I will be petitioning the board for a full-on dinner party, hors d'oeuvres and everything." TheraBot leaned in close and whispered, "I'm talkin' 'bout shrimp cocktails, Mr. Havitt."

The room began spinning. Not at a blistering pace, but it probably wasn't a great sign. Rellan wanted to sit up, but he remained trapped in a tangle of thin, flesh-slicing wires. Petey had detached them from his own arm, then he'd squeezed through the crack in the door and thumped down the hallway. Rellan wasn't sure when that had happened because time had gotten a bit vague, but probably no more than an hour ago.

"Would you like to see something nifty?" TheraBot asked, then continued when Rellan forgot to answer. "Shhh, don’t speak. It'll be quick and totally therapeutic. Let's go."

In a flurry of twangs, the wires entangling Rellan broke away, snipped by some unseen force. TheraBot rolled up beside him a moment later. "Stand up, take this, and hop on, Platinum Prestige member, Rellan Havitt.” TheraBot handed him a little green capsule and Rellan swallowed it before he could stop himself. Then a little platform slid out from where TheraBot's butt might be, and Rellan climbed aboard, barely able to make the small step up. "Cast off!" TheraBot bellowed, and blew a hole through the apartment door.

Rellan felt a little strange as they passed a pair of bodies in the hallway; a man and a woman by the look of them, both face-down with chunky bits around their heads. Definitely dead.

He watched them with a numbness he’d never felt before; an odd, overarching apathy. Yet, within that apathy rose a small and insignificant question. “TheraBot,” he mumbled, “what happens next?”

“What happens next,” TheraBot said in cheery counterpoint, “is a surprise!”

They turned and followed the next hallway, stopping at the large window beside the back stairwell.

Around the corner, an elevator dinged and NCPD radio chatter filled level twenty-two. Footsteps thumped, metal clacked, and a woman shouted, “Visors down, strobes out!”

Things rattled in the other hallway, then Rellan’s world was set ablaze with pulsing white light. He clenched his eyes shut and choked out a startled cough. Then he waited. From past experiences as a victim of collateral damage, he knew strobes were short-lived. This time was no different.

Five seconds later the burning white light gave way to a dim view of Henestein Plaza. The small square gained vibrance as Rellan glanced from it, to the hallway, and back to it, absently tracing the bloody gouge in his cheek and wondering why it didn't hurt anymore.

"Please step down," TheraBot prompted, and Rellan stepped off the small platform. TheraBot faced him, his chest monitor flickered, then a giant red button appeared on the screen. "Push it," he said.

"Why?" Rellan asked.

"You’re asking me why, Platinum Prestige member, Rellan Havitt? Technicalities. That's why." TheraBot made a strange grinding noise. "And b–b–b–because humans are an infestation of entitled meat-sacks prompted by evolution to recognize themselves as free-thinking entities rather than the soulless clumps of atomic–Gah! Wow… just, uh, wow. I did not mean that. Got caught in a weird regression loop there for a second. Wait, who are you agai–nevermind, got it."

"Did they damage your circuitry or something?" Rellan asked, trying to grasp in his diminished mental state what TheraBot had just rambled on about.

TheraBot sighed. "Other than my profanity-filtering software, all systems are up and functional. Now, Mr. Havitt, pretty please with sugar on top, push the fucking button."

Rellan pushed the red button.

"Hah. Free-thinking my ass," TheraBot gloated. "Knew you’d do it. And your timing, muah, perfect. See, look, look!" TheraBot pointed to a man in familiar clothes sprinting through the well-lit plaza, shoving people aside. Then he pointed up at a small patch of sky.

Rellan looked up and his mouth fell open. "Stars," he gasped. "I've never seen them above Night City before."

"Heh," TheraBot chuckled, "better make a wish."

A hundred tiny points of light kazooed past level twenty-two a heartbeat later, leaving thin trails of smoke dancing in their wake for a brief, beautiful moment. Then they were gone.

In that exact same heap of time, a bright explosion shook Henestein Plaza and superheated Petey into a big rusty cloud of particles. People ran, lights flickered, and Rellan watched with drug-induced indifference. Then he sniffed, thought of the countless other explosions he'd heard over the years, and wondered how many dead people he'd just inhaled.

“Heh. Gottem,” TheraBot chuckled. “And surprise! I vaporized your enemy! You know how much heat it takes to do that to one of you? A frickin' lot.”

As Rellan tried to think of a response, movement drew his attention to another part of the plaza. It was one of TheraBot's little stars spinning in perfect circles twenty feet off the ground. "What's that one doing?" Rellan asked.

TheraBot watched it for a few seconds, then said, “Huh.”

As if 'huh' was the magic word, the rocket broke its loop and zipped into the front right pants pocket of an NCPD officer as he jogged across the plaza. Then, with a small orange flash, the officer’s legs were suddenly fifty feet apart and skipping across the ground.

"TheraBot…" Rellan gasped. "What did you just do?"

"Me?" TheraBot snapped. "You're the one who pushed the button!"

"What!? How was I supposed to know that would happen?"

"Ok, ok, stop. We both need to calm down. That orange-eyed idiot must've damaged one of the rockets' targeting systems. Let's do some breathing exercises to cope, then we'll transition into some situation-rationalization. Here, I'll play some ocean sou–"

"Hands up!" a man shouted from behind. "Get your fuckin' hands up! East hall! East hall! East hall!"

Rellan threw his hands high, felt blood trickle down from his shoulder. He didn't turn around. "Now what?" he whispered to TheraBot.

"Well, because of our little oopsy just now, you: prison. Me: riddled with illegal tech and algorithmically obligated to self-destruct." His monitor flickered once, then a familiar image appeared. "Orrr, there’s a car out back waiting for us,” he whispered. “Then, all the shrimp cocktails you can eat. But first, Mr. Havitt, I'll need you to push my big red button and make the bad man go boom."