Cyberpunk 2077 Forum Short Story Competition

+
Status
Not open for further replies.
When we were little, my grandmother used to tell my siblings and me stories about Night City. She told us how about the year 2020 things were very different from what they were now. She told us how, despite the fact that the city was a dangerous place, the community helped and supported each other in hard times. She told us about the crazy things she did with her friends, how they explored the city and absolutely nothing happened as there was no dangers. When I was a child, I loved those stories, but over the years I understood that the things that grandma told us were fantasies. In the year 2020 my grandmother was barely five years old, so it was impossible for her to remember details of those years. However, I have also come to understand that although she was lying to us, she was not a liar, there is a big difference.
We were three brothers, Andra, Max and me, Erik. The three of us were always looked after by grandma. Our parents were fine, but we could only see them one day a week because they both work for Dakai Soundsytems and due to the types of contracts they had with the company, they could only leave the offices once a week and they did the impossible to be at home the same day and create the feeling that we were a happy family. However, dad died soon, his heart could not cope with stress and mom's salary was barely enough to support five people. It was then when Andra started pole dancing in bars that belonged to the 6th Street gang. It was heartbreaking to see her enter in that spiral of decadence and pain. There were mornings when she came home with black eyes from clients' punches. Her jaw trembled, as they forced her to take large amounts of Stim so that she could last longer dancing in the pole.
At least our grandmother’s Kiroshi Optical Scanner MK.I was broken down and we didn’t have money for a repair. She didn't have to see the horror that came through the door every morning. On the other hand, Max and I were old enough to understand the situation. And even though we were old enough we weren't mature enough as we made the decision to join the 6th Street so we could help our older sister.
At first, we were assigned simple tasks, selling Stim or Blue Glass in alleys, beating up people who owed money to the gang... Max adapted well to lifestyle inside the gang and over time he was forgetting why we had gotten into in, taking our sister out from that horror. On the contrary, on many occasions it was difficult for me to pull the trigger.
Max escalated quickly inside the organization and he occasionally did some direct works for the bigwigs of the gang, faces totally unknown to me. But with the increase of power, it increased the risk, and then one day, in a protection mission near the Westbrook district, Max was riddled with bullets by members of the Tyger's Claw gang.
When I wanted to tell Andra about the news of Max's death, her reaction was nil. Her gaze was empty and her body consumed by the Stim. The laughing girl who sat at Grandma's feet listening to old stories about Night City no longer existed. Andra, unlike Max, was still alive but she had blurred into the neon signs of the bar and the clients with body modifications.
Grandma died a long time ago, but I still remember the stories she told us. I know they were a lie because Night City has never changed, it has always been like this: a cruel place, a great ocean full of garbage, violence and injustice. This past year has been tough and I have thought of Max every morning when I woke up. I no longer visit Andra because it breaks my heart to see her in that state, devoid of humanity. Within weeks of Max's death we retaliated against the Tyger's Claw gang. We killed five or six of their members, many bullets were shoot down, but none of that will bring my siblings back. I possibly ended the life of someone who had a family, now just as broken as mine. And despite everything, I understand my grandmother's stories. I know that someday I will tell my grandchildren how Night City in the year 2077 was a wonderful place. I will tell them how the neon signs had a special glow on the nights that my brother and I went out. Yes, those stories will be a lie, but I will not be a liar.
 
Ghost Devil Angel Art 4.jpg


The Wraiths took Maria on May 16th, 2077. We were living on the east side of Watson at the time, in one of the countless run-down mega buildings near 20th Street. She’d been working late shifts at a shitty little shop called Papi’s Drugstore when they came tearing through out of nowhere on their bikes and Reavers. They shot up the whole street, killing twelve people in all. They set a fire that burnt half the block to the ground, robbed her store, and took her with them when they left.

I saw it late that night on Channel 54. An eyewitness described the whole thing in detail, how he watched them beat her while they pulled her by her hair from the store and threw her in the back of one of their cars. In a fit of panic, I started to head for the door. I don’t know what my plan was. Instead, I had a nervous breakdown. I collapsed on the floor, sobbing and screaming like a child. It was the only time I could remember crying since I was a child.

I woke up there the next day, the late afternoon sun spilling its uncaring heat onto my body. I laid motionless for hours, watching the flecks of dust drift in slow-motion over my arms. I had moments of hysteria where if I had mustered the strength to stand, I would have gotten up, grabbed a knife from the kitchen, and slit my throat from ear to ear. There were other moments of mania, where I imagined myself raiding a Militech warehouse and burning this entire godforsaken city down. I did neither. I just laid there, unmoving, until the sun set again. I’m not sure if I ever even blinked.

When I finally got up, I took a shower and put on Maria’s favorite Lizzy Wizzy t-shirt. I could feel the tears welling up again the whole time, but I forced them back, my eyes hot and burning. My head was pounding but I didn’t give a shit. Stay angry. I thought these words to myself over and over again until it was a mantra.

Stay angry.

I made my way to the NCPD headquarters to see if they had any more information. All the cops just looked at me like I was bothering them and told me things like ‘the investigation was ongoing’. I knew they didn’t actually give a shit and they knew that I knew it. And they act like they don’t know why we all fucking hate them.

I took a cab back to the east side. The roads were still blocked off, so I walked the rest of the way to Papi’s. I imagined Maria screaming in terror as they tore her over the counter, all the way out the doors and onto the sidewalk. My heart was beating so fast I thought it might pop and I’d drop dead right there. I’d have been ok with that.

I thought about the guy who saw it all happen. He said “they were roughing her up so bad because the poor girl put up quite a fight”. Of course she did. For a moment I could breathe again. Maria was the key. All I had to do was keep thinking of her and I could do this.

I asked everyone I could find if they knew anything else about what happened. For two hours I wandered out there in the rain, hoping against hope for any leads. Eventually I ran into a big, burly guy named Jackie. He told me he knew some corpos who’d identified the gang as a small faction of the Wraiths that called themselves The Night Terrors. They ran as sort of a tactical squad; when the Wraiths were desperate for supplies, someone had to come into Night City and get them. It didn’t happen often, but when it did, The Night Terrors would come to the outskirts of the city, hit some stores and sell what they stole to the gangs out in the Badlands. The spoils of war were theirs to keep.

Maria.

“So what’s your plan, choomba?” Jackie asked me with a kindness I wasn’t used to. Maybe it was just pity. “You goin’ after them?”

Honestly I hadn’t made any plans. I’d been running on autopilot since I got up. It was only once he asked me that I realized it. I nodded gravely.

“You watch yourself. The Night Terrors are some nasty pendejos.”

“Any idea how I go about finding them?” I asked, trying to sound tougher than I actually was. Jackie chuckled softly.

“Yeah, you won’t have to. You stay out in the Badlands long enough, and they’ll find you.”


I spent the next four months working overtime. I barely ate. I slept two hours a night and spent every waking moment I had at the shooting range or studying judo. I quit paying my bills to save every cent I earned. They shut off my power the first month and my water the second. I got my first eviction notice the week I planned to leave. I knew I had to hurry or else my scumbag landlord Alois would send some drug dealing fixer wannabe to put me in the hospital.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t terrified. I’d never even been in a fight in my life. I was a street kid, but I got lucky when I was a kid and got a real job making food runs for a local market. I bounced between factory work and restaurants in my twenties and never wound up homeless again.

Sometimes I fantasized about being a rockerboy, or joining up with some hackers and killing the power grid. Could we rise up if we had the chance? Who the fuck knows. Night City squashes peoples’ dreams like they were bugs. Honestly I was always too much of a coward to do anything. I knew I’d never make enough money to escape, so I just kept my head down and stayed out of trouble. Then I met Maria, and suddenly I had a reason to live.

That kind of devotion is a responsibility. I always knew that meant I would die for her if I had to, but I never imagined it also meant killing for her. The thought sent shivers up my spine, but I never doubted my ability to truly do it. If I met these guys face to face, it would be the only option I could fathom.

So I trained relentlessly. I pushed myself beyond limits I’d never known. There were days when I was too hungry and exhausted to keep going, so I pushed myself even further. I deeply considered putting myself out of my misery, or becoming a Braindance junkie like all those sad saps I met over the years who looked three times their age, their bodies frail from atrophy. Sometimes I hoped my heart would just give out and I wouldn’t have to end it myself. Instead, after a hundred days of this, my body and mind adjusted to the pain and exhaustion. It was like I had shed the skin of my old self. I didn’t recognize the man in the mirror. He was lean and dangerous looking. His eyes were hard and black as opal. He moved quietly and only with purpose. I hated and feared him.

On my last day, I packed some bags full of supplies and put every eddy I had to my name on a credchip. I dropped the keycard to my apartment in Alois’s inbox in the lobby and hiked downtown. That walk used to wear me out. Only four months had passed but I could probably run those nine blocks now without breaking a sweat.

I bought an old, used ThornTon that barely ran. It rattled when it was in neutral. I drove it out to the Kabuki Market, took a deep breath, and stepped out onto the street for the first time.

This was no place for working class people. Kabuki was the rat’s nest of Watson. On every corner there was someone selling daemons or illegal braindances. Scavengers crept through the alleys looking for a score. I saw them eyeing me with contempt because I had no cyberwear to speak of. They knew I didn’t belong here.

I walked slowly through the backstreets, expecting a gun at my back any second, but it never happened. I came to a rusted service door with graffiti of a ghost and a devil twisting around one another in battle, an angel hovering over their heads. This was the place. I hit the buzzer. A woman’s face appeared on the video screen, and she proceeded to look me up and down several times. Her eyes flashed neon pink. I could tell she was analyzing me.

“I think you got the wrong place, fleshbag.”

“I don’t!” I said quickly before she turned the camera off. “You’re Goody, right? I’m here to chip in.”

She looked taken aback and then laughed mockingly.

“Who the fuck is you, boy? You look like NCPD to me.”

“My name’s Slate. I work with a guy who calls himself Pelican, he said you could set me up.”

Goody squinted at me even more suspiciously. I could see her brain racing, trying to figure out if I was lying.

“Forget it, I ain’t seen Pelican in months, they coulda got to him. Goodbye!”

“No, wait!” I yelled desperately, but the screen flicked off. I hit the buzzer again but she didn’t answer. I couldn’t give up, I had no idea where else to go where I wouldn’t get myself killed. I rang the buzzer six more times.

“Please, Goody, you have to help me. I’m begging you.”

No answer.

“Do you remember back in April, the Night Terrors raided the Blackthorn Street block? They kidnapped my girlfriend.”

Still no answer.

“I don’t know what else to do, you’re the only person that can help me. Please.”

I finally let go of the buzzer in defeat. The video screen flickered on again.

“You know she’s dead, right?” Goody said coldly. “I don’t waste my time cybering up idiots.”

I swallowed. I hadn’t actually said this since it happened.

“Yeah, I know. I have to go after them.”

The screen shut off once again. A few seconds later the service door screeched and began rising. Goody was standing on the other side.

She looked like she could have been a goddess in another life, her features sharp and angular. She towered over me, with a long, slender neck and leopard spot tattoos dotting her arms and shoulders. There were divots and fine lines tracing every curve of her forearms and hands, but the work was excellent. It would be nearly impossible to tell they were cybernetic unless you were this close to her. A silver chain connected her lip ring to her ear, and another silver chain connected her choker to her top and continued down to her shorts, all black latex pressing tightly against her perfect black skin. Some people who dress like this look like they’re going to the club to show off. I could tell by the way she held herself that this was more than fashion; it was Goody’s uniform for war. There was not a shred of doubt in my mind that this woman had seen and done some serious shit.

“So some Nomads killed your girl and you’re just gonna up and be a fucking edgerunner, is that what you think?”

“I’m not planning to live through this if that’s what you’re asking. Just gonna do a lot of damage.”

She seemed to like this answer. She smirked as she closed the door.

“I dunno what you’re lookin’ to do but my work ain’t cheap,” she said as she led me through a dark garage.

I handed her my credchip.

“You can have everything on here. That’s my life savings.”

She took it and turned down a corridor into a lab. She stuck the credchip into a terminal, then motioned to a chair in the corner.

I sat and the chair leaned back automatically until I was almost laying flat.

“You realize these motherfuckers are gonna be stacked, right?” She said grimly. “There’s a lotta eddies on that chip but it ain’t gonna get you even close to the kinda cyberware they’re gonna have. And that’s not even counting whatever kinda guns they’ll be strapped with.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m trying to be discreet,” I told her. Her eyebrows raised slightly. “I don’t want them to know I have any augmentations. I need to get close to them.”

“So whatchu thinkin’ then?” She asked as she sat down next to me. I nodded at her arm.

“Pelican told me you have custom Mantis Blades. I want those. I want The Wraiths to have no idea I have them.”

She shook her head and laughed.

“Not a chance! These are my fuckin’ trademark. If I give these to you every merc in Night City’s gonna want a set.”

“That’s good business, isn’t it?”

“You don’t know how this shit works, do you?” She asked, becoming incredibly serious. “I don’t need that kinda heat. Arasaka is already circling me. They know I got access to their supplies. If I start installing it on other people they’ll kill my ass.”

“Look, I already told you I don’t expect to make it back from this,” I pleaded. “If I die out in the Badlands, you don’t have to worry about it. And if I somehow make it back, it’s not like I’m gonna be out here in Watson flashing the things. Like you said, I’m not a fucking edgerunner.”

She shook her head slightly and looked concerned. I could tell she was a methodical person, always playing chess in her mind. You’d probably have to be to survive in this line of work.

“After I set you up I never wanna see your fuckin’ ass again, we understand each other?”

“Yes.”

“As in you don’t come back to Watson. You get the fuck outta Night City entirely.”

“Yes, I understand. You’ll never see me again.”

She sighed deeply and picked up a syringe.

“All right, hold still.”

“Wait,” I said apprehensively. “There’s a lot of money on that credchip.”

“I told you I was expensive.”

“Just one more thing. I could really use some Kiroshi gear.”

She smiled and pulled a box from the drawer under her workstation, opened it and removed two synthetic eyeballs. The craftsmanship was surreal. You’d never know they weren’t a pair of human eyes if not for the silicon and wires.

“Just got a new model in. They look completely natural. Give you data reads and zoom up to six times. Fully AI operated.”

I imagined having my eyes pulled out of their sockets and my stomach lurched. I pushed the thought from my mind. Maria.

“I’ll take them,” I said, hoping she couldn’t hear the hesitation in my voice.

“These are both pretty serious upgrades to get at once,” she told me. “You gonna feel like shit for a day or two, just so you know.”

Goody picked up the syringe again and stuck it in my arm.

“This is gonna put you out. See you in the morning, sunshine.”

My body immediately began to feel heavy. I sunk into the chair, into the black, into the same nightmare I’d had every night for months.


I awoke in a panic, thirstier than I’d ever been in my life. I couldn’t remember where I was. I tried to call for help but my no sound came out. I looked around and couldn’t see a thing. I tried to get up but my arms barely moved. They felt like they were asleep without the pins and needles. It was dark in the lab. Where was Goody? Did she fuck me over?

I squinted to try to make anything out and began to be able to focus. There was a glass of water on the medical tray. I slowly reached out to grab it. My hand was shaking and felt frighteningly heavy.

I sat up and downed the water, rubbing my head. I looked around again, and suddenly the entire room lit up. I looked around for Goody to see if she’d switched the lights on but she wasn’t there. I realized it was my new eyes, activating perfect night vision on their own because I couldn’t see. I could hardly believe it.

I scanned the room. The level of detail was beyond 20/20 vision; it was like having microscopes for eyes. A datalink popped up in the corner of my view, telling me my exact location. I saw a tray tools and some prescription bottles in the corner. Before I could even finish the thought, my new eyes zoomed in on the nearest bottle. A tiny, hi-def rectangle popped up around the label. “Norepinephrine”, my datalink informed me. “100 milligrams. 50 count.”

The horror of having my body parts swapped out was beginning to ebb away. This was incredible. I could already understand how some people get addicted to augmenting themselves.

“Whatcha think?” Goody was standing against the doorway smiling. I hadn’t noticed her come in because I was so distracted.

“Unbelievable,” I said stupidly.

“You try your blades yet?”

“No,” I looked down at my arms and suddenly realized that she’d tattooed me. Neon red flames twisted violently around my forearms. For a split-second I was angry that she’d given me no warning, but I quickly realized why. There was no way to tell that I had any implants.

“How do they work?”

“It’s like flexing a muscle,” she told me. “Just give it a try.”

I clenched my fists and nothing happened. I shook my arms, but no dice. Goody laughed. I held still for a moment and concentrated, imagining them. Just like my new eyes, they seemed to read my thoughts. It startled me when my forearms suddenly opened up, folding backwards toward my elbows. Shiny, stainless steel blades shot out just above my wrists. With a tiny whirr, the blades retracted and my forearms closed up again. This would take a little more getting used to. The realization that I was not entirely human anymore began to set in.

I looked at Goody. She looked like she knew what I was thinking but she didn’t say it. I just said thanks.

“Don’t mention it. Just try not to let them kill you, ok? I did hella good work on you.”

“This means a lot to me Goody,” I told her earnestly. “I know you don’t owe me anything, but if you have any guns it’d really help me out. Nothing special, just a revolver, something small.”

“I thought you might ask,” she said, motioning for me to follow her. We went down the hall into another room. It looked like a tiny arms warehouse. There were automatics in one corner, an entire wall of sniper rifles and smartguns. She picked up a handgun, cocked it and gave it to me.

“This is a Militech M-10AF Lexington. You can switch from single-fire mode to full auto.”

I put the gun in my jacket pocket. Time to pop the question.

“One last thing.”

“You’re pushin’ it, Slate.”

“I need some Black Lace.”

“You gotta be kiddin’ me.”

“I’m not.”

“You ever done that shit before? People lose their minds from that shit.”

“Just one hit. I know you have it.”

She rolled her eyes, gasped and threw her hands up.

“Be right back, Mr. Death Wish.”

She left the room and came back a moment later with an inhaler.

“Don’t take this unless you have no choice. You may think you hard but you ain’t.”

“Thank you, Goody.”

“Stupid ass,” she said as she stormed off. “Get the fuck out.”


My first three weeks in the Badlands were unbearable. The air conditioning barely worked in the ThornTon. I did everything I could to keep from barreling through my water supply. I parked off the roads, moving the car under hills to avoid the sun whenever I could. I spent most of my time meditating to stave off the heat. Mostly I thought of Maria.

I could hardly believe there were Nomads living in this. I always thought Night City was rough but I couldn’t imagine how anyone survived out here. Not alone, certainly.

By the 28th day, I’d run out of food and water and was just driving aimlessly. I’d abandoned the road hours ago, trekking across the cracked and barren land, the car occasionally bouncing wildly over a stray rock. I was halfway out of my mind when I finally saw a form in the distance. I zoomed in on it. In my delirium, I nearly convinced myself it was a mirage, but it wasn’t. Standing all by itself, in the literal middle of nowhere, was a rusty old mobile home with skulls painted on the side.

I parked my car against the nearest hill and approached.

I stood a few yards from the door and looked around. Bits of debris, fuel containers, and car parts littered the area. There were fresh tire tracks leading west but no vehicles in sight. It was impossible to tell when they were last here or when they’d be back, but this was their property, no doubt in my mind.

The door had a rusty old padlock and chain on it. My hands shook as I pulled the gun from my jacket. I stood back and fired. It packed way more punch than I expected. I blew half the door off. There was a girl’s muffled scream from inside.

My heart nearly exploded. It couldn’t be.

I threw the door open and looked around frantically. The bullet had taken a chunk off the wall as well. A plume of dirt and dust was settling onto the stained floor. There were blood and beer stains everywhere. The smell nearly gagged me. I turned to the left and there was a tiny hallway leading to a bedroom. I called out but my voice barely worked.

“…Maria?”

There was no response. I crept slowly down the hallway and heard shuffling. My gun at the ready, I swung through the doorway to the bedroom and almost threw up.

A girl laid on the floor with a gag in her mouth, barely moving. Her arms were tied to a pair of makeshift bars on the wall, her naked body black and blue with bruises and covered in filth. She looked at me in horror and began convulsing with fear.

It wasn’t Maria. Some tiny part of me had held onto the slightest hope, until now. I knew what this meant.

I approached the girl and she screamed into the tightly-wound rags. There was no one around to hear her for miles. They did it to torture her, nothing more.

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” I told her. She lashed violently as I reached for the handkerchief. “I’m not gonna hurt you, I promise. I’m getting you out of here.”

I grabbed the knot of cloth behind her head and untied it, then undid her wrists. She began weeping. “Please help me,” she begged over and over again. I tried to console her but she was out of her mind. Suddenly she screamed again, and before I could even react, a crowbar came down hard on my left shoulder and dropped me straight to the ground.

“How the fuck you find this place?” A gravelly voice bellowed. A monster of a man stood over us, a crowbar in one hand and a gun in the other. He had a metal jaw and a devil’s skull tattooed on his neck. He crammed the gun against my throat. One of his buddies stood behind him, a scrawny, sickly looking guy with stringy hair. He was giggling. It sent chills up my spine.

“Answer me now or I paint the fuckin’ wall,” he sneered. The girl let out a squeak.

“Back in April you raided Watson,” I hissed. “You robbed a drugstore and kidnapped my girlfriend. You brought her here and you killed her, right? You piece of shit?” He pressed the gun harder and harder against my throat as I spoke. I could hear bikes revving outside.

“We bring lotsa girls out here,” he said, nodding at her. “Show ‘em all a real good time.”

His buddy giggled again.

“You come here all by yourself, meatsack?”

This was it.

“No,” I rasped. “I brought some friends.”

I swung my hand up as the Mantis Blade protracted. In one smooth motion, I took his arm clean off. He threw himself backward screaming. I jolted upward and sliced his other arm off. The crowbar landed with a dull clunk. His buddy had barely reacted as I pulled out the Lexington and shot him right between the eyes.

I could hear the bikes go quiet outside. We were in some shit now. The girl was hyperventilating. Things had changed. I had to get her out of here.

I moved down the hallway and peeked out the kitchen window. There were nine bikes outside. That meant there were seven Wraiths left. I didn’t have much of a choice.

I took the Black Lace from my pocket and inhaled the whole thing. It tasted like metal. My brain shuddered and my body went icy. Every ounce of fear left me. I kicked the door open and just started firing. Clearly they hadn’t expected this, and I took two out as the other five started scrambling. I emptied the chamber, taking out another as I charged. I felt a rush not unlike an orgasm as I plunged a Mantis Blade into the neck of another. One of them shot me in the ribs and I felt nothing. I swung around and chopped his head clean off.

I could hear the other three screaming, feel their chaos. The one nearest to me shot me again in the shoulder. I jammed the blade straight through his heart. I wrenched the gun from his hand and put a bullet in the next one’s head. I could feel the Black Lace wearing off already, a wave of agony passing through my guts. I stumbled and dropped to my knees as the last Night Terror put me in the sights of his shotgun. God. All this and I failed. I closed my eyes.

I heard a bang, but I was still alive. I looked up and watched the last Wraith’s body crumple to the ground. I looked back at the trailer to see the girl standing on the steps, naked and clutching a rifle, a look of abject terror on her face. I smiled weakly at her and collapsed.

I floated in and out of consciousness as she cradled my head in her hands and sobbed, her tears dripping down and cooling my face.

“What’s your name?” I asked her.

“Anastasia.” She said softly. Her lips trembled. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

“It’s ok. Really,” I said. It was so hard to speak. “I came out here to find a ghost, but I found you.”

She cried even harder. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to do.”

“Live,” I told her and smiled. I wiped the tears from her cheek. She was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. “Just live.”
 
Some Wounds Never Heal
Little China, Watson, Night City - 2077
Billy’s Pawn Shop


I do it again. I forget to breathe, letting my anger get the best of me. At my feet on the floor of the shop, Billy is howling in pain from the broken finger I just gave him. Does he deserve it? Yeah. I don’t have time to explain why, but trust me, Billy is a little shit and had it coming.

It’s dark outside. No overhead lights are on inside the shop, but the lava lamps on the shelves wash the room in a mix of purple and fiery orange light.

“Where the fuck is the tape!”, I yell. “Don’t make me ask again, please, and don’t play dumb. Who’d you sell it to?”

“I can’t say. If I do, they’ll come back and kill me, for sure.” His voice shaking. In this moment, he should be afraid of me. I’m not proud of it, but at this point, I’ve hit rock bottom. So far down I’d be in hell, if such a place existed. However, I’m in the own personal hell of my mind.

“Why’d you sell it to me if it was so important to you?” Billy asks. “You like Lizzy that much? I paid you a bunch of eddies for that tape, you can track down a personal BD experience with that kind of change. She’s produced dozens of them! Much better than some backstage meet and greet with a fan!”

I’m losing my patience. I control my breathing, inhale then exhale softly, squat down in front of Billy, and look him right in the eyes. “This is your last chance.”, I say calmly. “Who’d you sell the tape to?”

Billy’s Pawn Shop (36 hours ago)

The door jingles as the head supervisor for the Arasaka Corporation’s security contracts in the Night City region walks in. Benjiro Tomobiki. He’s accompanied by two large bodyguards. Benjiro is an average looking Japanese man. He’s the son of the late Yoru Tomobiki, the last person to hold his position at the company.

“Billy, I hear you have something valuable for me? I trust this will be worth my time.”

“Yes, Mr. Tomobiki, I’ve got a BD recording of an exclusive fan meet and greet with Lizzy Wizzy. It’s during the early years of her career. There isn’t much information about her during that time. This is an incredibly rare find sir.” He whispers quietly, so nobody else will hear. Which is stupid because nobody else but them is in the shop.

Benjiro’s organic eyes light up like a Christmas tree. He’s got a strange obsession with Lizzy and does a terrible job hiding it. He collects anything relevant to her that he can get his hands on, media or accessory.

“I trust you’ve experienced the recording for yourself, and that everything you’ve said is correct?”

“Of course, sir. The person who sold it to me let it go for way less than it’s worth. I played the recording right away. It’s legitimate sir.”

“Good. Hand it over.”

Billy’s Pawn Shop (Today)

“See, that wasn’t so hard was it?” I tell Billy, and then walk out the front door.

Outside, I take a deep breath. I steady my breathing, and take in the ambience. The smells and sounds of the city. I look up at the towering skyscrapers above. Billy’s shop is located at the bottom of Little China. To the southwest, just across the water, the lights of City Center’s Downtown. Right next to Downtown, to the southeast, the modern and menacing towers of Corpo Plaza.

I’m worried. Now that Arasaka is involved, the situation has gotten worse. Much worse. I know exactly where I’ll find Benjiro Tomobiki. Word on the street is he hangs out in Japantown, at an old place called the XYZ Piano Bar, which is popular with Corpos, and even had ties to the Yakuza a long time ago. Way back before the 4th Corporate War. Rumor is Tomobiki even deals with the Tyger Claws in secret. Whether or not anyone else at Arasaka is involved, nobody knows.

Am I really about to do this over a BD tape? You’re damn right I am. I head home to sharpen Zireael. Will it be worth it in the end? All the pain I know it’ll bring? I read a quote once from the late great Rockerboy Johnny Silverhand. It went something like this:

“I remember she told me she was born in Miami, about 2004 or so…She was pretty sure, because she could still remember what it’d been like when Euros rocked Washington and the near miss took out Tampa. She had these incredible blue eyes, clear through and through, like crystals of Lace, and a smile from a magazine dream. Course, the eyes were Teknics 2350’s, and the smile really was from a magazine - nice biosculpt job. It didn’t matter how much was real in the end. I still fell hard for her. I’m that type.”

Replace Miami with Night City. 2004 with 2048. Crystal blue for emerald green. Teknics for Kiroshi, and well, yeah, I’m that type too. So, it’ll be worth it. A psychologist will say otherwise, but I don’t care.

Mega Building in Watson (48 hours ago)

The tears don’t stop, and mornings are the worst. Some worse than others, but today, it’s the worst. Sitting on the floor of my apartment, I feel like I’m relapsing. Not into drugs or alcohol, but into obsessive thoughts and compulsions. On the table across the room is the headset, with the tape already inside it. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t live like this. I know putting that headset on will only bring pain. Pain after the pleasure. The comedown is worse than any hangover.

The XYZ Piano Bar (Today)

I sit in the front seat of my Thorton, parked across the street from the XYZ. There are three Tyger Claws standing outside the front door of the bar. I have no doubt about their allegiance, because it’s dark outside and their tattoos give away their location like glow sticks at a rave.

I would prefer this not to get messy, but if it’s to go down that way, I’m ready to dance. I decide to play it cool and try my luck walking in the front door to do some reconnaissance. I step outside into the night and make my way across the street towards the bar. Somewhere in the distance, the roaring sounds of street bikes, another Tyger Claw trademark. As I approach the front door of the bar, I can hear the three Tyger Claws, two men and a woman. They’re speaking in Japanese.

“…市内の他の誰もが領土を尊重しています”

“私はあなたを聞く。 今夜はムチ子を見に帰るのが待ちきれません。 彼女は以前ボドゥッカンで演奏したので、また会いたかった”

My translator picks up the words. A message appears in the top left corner of my display, asking to activate auto translation. I decline and approach the door, trying not to make eye contact with them.

The space inside the bar is dimly lit and filled with the smell of flavored cigar smoke. Attractive bar girls walk back and forth across the wood paneled floor, serving cocktails to guests seated on black leather booths. A karaoke singer performs on a large stage towards the back. She actually doesn’t suck and has a pretty voice. Everyone is wearing suits, but I don’t see Tomobiki anywhere. I definitely look out of place here. Maybe this was a bad idea. I spot a hallway towards the back of the bar which leads towards a staircase. I make my way over, getting about five steps before I’m stopped. They’re on me like white on rice.

Damn! Where the hell did they even come from? I definitely didn’t think through this plan thoroughly. Four men circle me and one says something in Japanese. I consider dancing with Zireael right here but before I can move another muscle, the first two usher me towards the staircase I’m already heading towards.

Alright. Let’s see how this plays out first.

Upstairs, I’m led into another dimly lit room. Tomobiki is seated on a leather couch in the corner between two ferns of cherry blossoms. A large floor to ceiling window on the opposite side with a view of Charter Hill to the south.

“This is quite the pile of shit you’ve just stepped in, wouldn’t you say? And for what? A tape?” he says to me after a few awkward seconds of silence.

“How’d you know I was coming?” I reply quickly. I’m in no mood for chit chat.

“Our mutual acquaintance. Billy Upton.”

I knew I should have killed that bastard. A broken finger wasn’t enough punishment for all the fucked up shit he’s done. Breathe. Don’t forget to breathe.

In the window’s reflection, I can see the two guards slowly start to move up from behind, trapping me between Tomobiki and the door.

“I just want my tape back.”

No reply.

I reach back and unsheathe Zireael. In one swift motion, I turn 50 degrees and sever the arm clean off the bodyguard raising his gun. He screams and falls backwards, hitting his head on the corner of the table. Dead. Following through with the swing, I drop down on my right knee, ducking the blow I know is coming from the guard on the left. Bringing Zireael back around the other direction, I turn and push the blade through his gut while grabbing him from behind as a human shield. Just in time for his body to absorb the shots coming from Tomobiki’s silenced pistol.

I shove the corpse forward towards Tomobiki who isn’t quick enough to dodge. He falls backwards onto the couch, with corpse on top of him. Coming forward, I turn Zireael upside down and thrust the blade through the back of the corpse, all the way into Tomobiki’s heart, through the leather couch, and out the other end. Just like that it’s over. The whole thing takes about 3 seconds.

I leave Zireael there and slowly sit down on the leather couch, my hands are trembling. I pick up the BD equipment and tape, which is laying on the table next to the couch. I plug in, fast forward to the end, and begin.

Night City (5 years ago)

“Oh my god, babe that was incredible. Thank you so much!” She says.

It makes me happy to see her happy. She didn’t know I’d been recording the whole thing. I wanted to get her entire reaction to meeting her favorite artist. I wanted to save this moment. She’d thought we’d just be waiting for an autograph, and didn’t know I’d arranged a special meet and greet with Lizzy Wizzy for her birthday.

She leans in and places her lips on mine. The moment is pure euphoria. I feel everything again. The taste of her lipstick, how lucky I am to have her in my life. I want this moment to last forever. And now it does. My heart thumps in my chest.

The tape ends.

The XYZ Piano Bar (Today)

The comedown is worse than any hangover.
 
I take a small measure of enjoyment from the brief freefall, as the spaceplane curves out of the atmosphere for a brief moment. Around me, those unaccustomed to microgravity are clutching their sick sacks, when not utilizing them.

But soon the yoke of gravity is upon us, relief to many, but with bittersweet feeling of parting to me.

It has been a week since I got the missive;

"Due to your expertises, we are giving you the possibility to assist, control and command the transmission of sensitive data, from Venice to Night City.

You have five days to foresee the journey and inform us of your payment conditionality.

Do not propose your involvement, unless you can ensure success."

There is promise of rain on the evening horizon as we descend upon Night City. The weather will be as miserable as the city itself. Perkele! I curse silently. From the Crystal Palace, to this; Hole.

On final approach, the spaceplane connects to low bandwith Citinet and I get a short missive; The operatives I hired, will rendervous with me upon landing.

The wheelman, Dendorff, is rather unimportant. But the drone operator Fujiko, is crucial. The mission's success hinges upon her, she is almost as important as the Satchel and the data. Vetting her, took quite some time.

It takes a while for the spaceplane to land, but even more for the Space Center security ablutions to finish. During which I get a few increasingly impatient missives from my hirelings. The locals are not used to the hassle of sub-orbital travel. Or any travel, come to think about it.

Finally as I am released from the baleful grips of TSA agents, I meet up with my staff. Such as it is.

"My apologies for the delay, the Berlaymontic machinations of TSA took a semester and a half! Hah!" I lay the Eurish thick, to play the part of the blue-eyed, touristic Euro.

Dendorff opens his mouth, "Hwaa~?" but Fujiko heads him off, "That is fine... Sir!" She is slightly annoyed at having to play the servile part. "This way, sir!"

Her annoyance grows palpaple as she positively corrals us into the armoured vehicle. I can't help but be a little bit amused.

Eventually Dendorff is at the wheel and me and Fujiko share the back of the limo-esque vehicle with a areal combat drone.

"So, what really brings you to N.C? Ew-Lou..." she self-depreciatingly mocks my hamfisted pretense to clueless tourist at the Space Center. Quite careless of her.

I drop the pretense and put my business face on; "Data transfer. Important paydata, straight from Rome." "What kind?" she makes the expected inquiry.

"Oh, the DNA of a kind of vitamin rich algae. The job is for Biotechnica."

As we start towards the city proper, Dendorff leans back to ask; "How many Eddies are there in algae?" "Oh, billions" I let slip.

"Wait? What?" she asks, oozing puzzlement with a hint of greed. "But a armored Biotechnica convoy is on it's way to their local branch! Are you telling me, that the paydata worth billions is with us?"

I grin conspiratorially and ask; "Have you ever heard of the Cullinan Diamond bluff?" "Nah." Intones Dendorff as Fujiko shakes her head, disappointingly predictable.

"It's when you make a big fuss about sending something important in a heavily protected convoy, but send it with a unassuming courier instead."

There is silence, mediated by the sounds of rain and the ocean, as we cross the bridge to the city and my companions process this data.

"If the data is of a algae's DNA, wouldn't that be on a chip" the clever Fujiko asks. "Of course." "What's in the bag then?" she continues. "Oh, the Satchel?" I do my best to convey the ominous proper nounness of the item.

"A bomb."

The word hangs in the air for a while, like a blast of Arctic air.

I see Fujiko's jaw clench for but a second. Her voice is almost overly friendly as she asks; "Why?"

"In case one of you betrays me." I say, in almost a sing song voice. I'm rather giddy. I enjoy the stunned silence for a moment and then tap in the route I want Dendorff to take into my agent. And pass it to their views.

"Our destination is the top of a parking hall in Vista Del Rey, but we will be taking the long way, through Wellsprings and the Glen. Upon arrival, I will take a autogyro to the HQ" I explain, "Thus releasing you from the burden of the Satchel."

Fujiko's eyes dart around and flash, as she absorbs the information. I see a flicker of a smile.

As our journey is slowed by traffic, Dendorff asks; "So~, why is some algae DNA worth billions again?"

"Taxes. Specifically tax cuts." I answer, putting on my best 'teacher voice.' "You see, the basic formula of kibble is a bit short on vitamins. If you add vitamins to the kibble you produce you get a tax cut."

"The algae makes that cheaper, it's all about the marginal cost, you see." Fujiko rolls her eyes at me.

Slowly but surely, we approach the drop off. My heart beats faster and faster. This is the pivot point. This is the adrenaline rush that makes life worth living. Even in a Hole like this.

We reach the parking hall and begin to drive up, level by level. Each floor seems to pass on by slower and slower, as the hour of destiny approacheth. A idiom pretencious and melodramatic, even for me.

Finally the roof. The sun has set, but the rain yet falls. Lights of the city shine through the downpour, in all of their kitch glory and infamy. In a moment of stillness, I think of all those lives.

Scrambling to get ahead, scrambling to be someone, scambling to matter, scrambling to survive. I almost feel for them, almost.

But I'm above them, I lie to myself. And for a microsecond, I face the lie and the almost falls away. For a moment, I feel freefall and overview. But I put it away, I lock it away. I have to, in order to scramble to survive.

The door opens and Fujiko sends her drone to secure the area. Dendorff steps out as well. "Is the area secure?" I ask.

Fujiko nods.

I grab the Satchel, step outside and say - while flashing a smile - to Fujiko "I'm gonna strech my legs a bit, until the gyro shows up, ok?"

She says nothing.

I walk over to the edge of the roof and look at the city.

The door of the car slides shut.

The drone fires a round through Dendorff's skull.

And the paradigm has shifted.

A feeling of cold dark certainty fills my mind.

I slowly lower and carefully the Satchel to the ground.

"What now?" I ask.

"Leave the Satchel and come here," she says. In the confines of the quite bomb safe vehicle. I walk over.

The window scrolls down and I stare at a gun. "The Data, hand it over," she instructs. Her eyes are cold and commanding.

I reach into my pocket and produce a chip. "You can't flip this anywhere. The data is too hot" I caution, futilely I expect.

"I already have a buyer. Petrochem is offering me ten times what you are. You shouldn't have been so stingy, this is Night City, not Stockholm."

"I'm Finnish..."

"Whatever..."

As the heavy rain falls, the window rolls up and the car rolls away. And I am left on a roof, stained like a kaleidoscope by the lights of the city.

Fish my agent from my pocket and check the location tracker of the car, as it gains distance. Once far enough, I send the signal.

Nearby Biotechnica security drones fly over. A voice issues form one of them; "Congratulations on a successful operation, sir! However, we regret to inform you that the autogyro is slightly delayed and will arrive in five minutes!"

Time enough for a cigar. I shelter from the rain under the awning of the rooftop elevator access and watch the city. And I lose myself in the moment; The city is still a Hole, but it might be a Nice Hole.

Rain beats down on Charter Hills, as the gyro curves towards my new apartment building. Not the most elecant of domiciles, but it's safe and has many semi-private landing pads for gyros. As a base of operations, it will do.

Arriving with a modicum of kismet and accompanied with a peel of thunder, a missive from Fujiko; "You Euro-gomi bastard, the chip had a virus. It crashed Petrochem intranet. They're gonna put a hit on me! I'm gonna flatline you, if they don't first. FUCKER!"

Cullinan Diamond double-bluff, with Pig-in-Poke, classic!

While the virus will not be much more than a nuisance, it will lower Petrochem's performance this quarter. Enough that they will part with some low priority assets. Assets that Biotechnica will have better uses for.

As I pass through the spartan maze labyrinth of hallways to my apartment, I grin and send a one word reply; "Dinner?"

Once inside, I retrieve the "bomb," which is to say the bottle of Scotch and a relaxant from the Satchel, pour my self a double, bite down on the relaxant and step unto the balcony of my apartment.

The effort to ensure my apartment had a balcony facing North Oak - Petrochem regional managers villa especially - was considerable. But as a power play? Mission critical.

I fix my gaze on the distant villa, though my eyes are not some backalley fixup. Even with them, I can hardly make out details. Still, I am not blue-eyed enough to assume that the ominous dark splotches in bespoke berches aren't seeing me clearly.

I raise my glass in salute and the panzerglas in front of my face turns white, as a high caliber round slams halfway through it. The relaxant stops me from perceptively flinching.

Hell of a way to make introductions.
 
Last edited:
The Northwest of Night City is a vibrant area in the broadest sense of that word - vibrant colors, vibrant people, vibrant deviations. Perhaps, it was the perfect place for someone to feel different, inferior, an alien to anyone who is or tries to be a local resident here. Fashionware, gleaming metal, real fur and the newest, boldest kitsch one can ever see is an abundant sight around Westbrook, even in its uglier part, Charter Hill. People who live there have to be gravely pre-occupied with their business to miss a chance to give someone who is augmented in a less expensive or impressive manner a disgusted glare.

Needless to say, roaming Westbrook with no visible or stylish cyberware or bioware was the only - or simply most effective - way to draw some attention. Negative attention is stll attention in Night City, after all. However, there is a certain type of people, specifically normal and usual around Westbrook, who are well-known to its residents in a way not always positive, but at the very neutral or even grateful. The ones who keep the streets of the neighborhood and its part safe to walk during both day and night, the ones who keep Westbrook’s wealth safe and sound, the ones who are feared and ones who are not to mess around with.

One chilly evening, a dozen of those were on-duty in Charter Hill, sitting in two separate vans - generic and plain black, yet armorerd and equipped for anything that would require extreme prejudice. Each had a helmet, two vests - a bulletproof one and a utility one - and a weapon of choice. The driver’s seat of one the vans was occupied by an individual who people in Westbrook called Kane - he had a white t-shirt, a tan typical for California and menacing, ripped muscles that made one feel like Kane is either constantly flexing them in anger, or to show off. He was that exact type of a man who walks Westbrook with no augmentations and gets no look of despise upon himself.

In contrast to him, to Kane’s right was sitting a man with cyberarms, a few other augmentations carefully running through his body and artificial eyes with all sorts of relatively useful information on constant display - that man was Barker. He was local to Charter Hills, and all of his cyberware could by no means be considered cheap or low-quality, yet it was not sufficient for the higher leagues of Westbrook. As a result, Barker used Kane’s trust as a profitable opportunity.

Across the street was a car repair shop, a two-storey building sitting in the middle of concrete yet-nowhere right in front of Charter Hills’ mass housing. The place enjoyed a very positive and respected reputation in its area: they worked fast, they did what they were paid to do well, never asked unnecessary questions, sold nice coffee and were a chop shop. As a whole, Westbrook did not tolerate much criminal and gang activity, but this particular chop shop knew the exact way to behave around the unspoken authorities of the district: know who to serve first and best, pay in time and provide as many extra services as required. In return, Westbrook provided the chop shop with safety and client base to prosper.

Reputation like that is expected to attract some unwanted attention as well, which is exactly why there was another van that evening. It, too, was black as the other two, parked under one of the mass housing buildings, yet it looked and felt different. It drove too fast and abruptly, then steered right to the doors of the chop shop and released a group of heavily augmented and armed men who quickly ran into the shop and shut the doors.

“Don’t breach until I say so,” said Kane. The dozen had already exited the vans and was quickly approaching the chop shop with arms ready. “NT, Barker, you two go in last. And no peeking!” He laughed and held up a massive grenade in his hand.

They all heard yelling and beating and metal clanking in the chop shop as they stood by one of its entrances. Kane cooked the grenade for a couple of seconds and nodded - another man opened the door swiftly as Kane threw the grenade inside. It went off with loud cracking sounds rumbling through the air, then followed by Kane’s commanding and menacing yelling and the entire dozen running inside the chop shop holding the uninvited guests in sights of their guns; the guests could not move, but shook in minor seizures and grunted, trying to yell, as some of the dozen kept pointing their weapons at them and yelling at them, while the others cuffed their arms and legs. The members of the Maelstrom gang were a strong bunch in Night City with all their augmented body parts and combat enhancement, yet they paid very little attention to the second side of that sword - EMP vulnerability.

One of them was particularly heavily armored and augmented. The entire upper half of his face was replaced with a one-line visor and a few minor cameras on his forehead and his arms were completely artificial - not an amateur forearm replacement. This one gained limited control of his body faster than the others and used it wisely to yell back at Kane and his men, cursing with his nearly robotic voice and shaking in cuffs trying to break free. Kane stepped back, raised his leg behind himself and threw a powerful kick to the captured rebel’s jaw.

“Watch your tone, young man!” he said and grabbed the rebel by the back of his head only to bash his face against the concrete floor of the chop shop. “You’re a big one, huh? Tough guy? You are NOTHING!” Kane bashed the augmented face against the floor again, cracking the horizontal visor of the big Maelstrom gangster’s camera. He put his handgun to the visor and waited for a few seconds. “Wanna tell us why the fuck are you here?”

The big man did not want to. Not that he said anything, but spitting to Kane’s face and trying to break free, grunting and attempting to bite Kane’s leg communicated a very uncooperative attitude clearly.

“Put him on his knees,” said Kane gravely. His voice was in that perfect middle spot when you know someone is angry, yet is trying to keep their head away from their emotions for whatever reason. A man in control is always menacing - a man in control of himself is something else.

He dragged one of the gangsters closer to the big guy - other men from the dozen did the same. Kane pointed his gun - so did the dozen - to the one before the big guy and looked at him calmly, yet unmovingly.

“I don’t ask twice,” he said, waiting for a response.

“Well, too bad!” the big guy spat at Kane again. “Think I’m afraid of a bunch of some meatbags? Think WE’RE afraid of a bunch of meatbags? Just show me you got some balls already! Like that toughass over there,” the big guy nodded his head towards the body of one of the mechanics in a pile of its own blood. “At least he tried to act.”

Kane smiled. He turned his head to NT and made a small gesture with it, inviting seemingly unaugmented NT to come closer. He did and crouched before the big guy, giving him an odd look - a confident smile mixed with something malicious. Not breaking the eye contact, NT pulled a wire out of his own wrist, to which the big gangster laughed.

“Oh, now that is just ADORABLE!” He bursted again. “Betcha think you’re a big netrunner here, huh? A breacher? Well, let’s see what you got, shithead.” His visor was glued to NT. “Surprise me.”

NT immediately looked down and rammed the wire into the neckport of the gangster that was lying on the floor before the big guy. NT’s eyes sparked for a few seconds in silence, and the big guy was about to laugh again, shining with his smile, only to hear a loud, prolonged shriek.

The gangster on the floor was screaming in terror and agony, shaking on the floor helplessly and bashing his head against the concrete floor - his face and the implants on it dented, crushed, as screaming continued and the visors shattered. His face left pieces of his face and teeth and metal and blood on the floor before his leader.

The show barely lasted more than a minute. The gangster’s body ceased any activity, and NT pulled the wire out. Kane sat on the corpse, smiling and looking at the big guy.

“You guys should seriously consider a software update,” Kane said. “Thanks, NT.”

“Don’t mention it,” he replied with a smirk on his face.

“Listen, tough guy. You’re dead meat. Your trashcans are dead meat. You simply chose wrong people and wrong place to mess with, you’re idiots.” Not breaking the eye contact with the big guy, Kane pointed his thumb to NT. “The only choice you have now is dying painfully or happily.”

The big guy spat in Kane’s face again and growled, trying to reach him. Kane wiped his face and NT stepped closer to hack into the big guy. Mere seconds of useless resistance culminated with silence and blank, emotionless expression on the big guy’s face. NT had full control.

“Name’s Garett.” The big guy’s lips moved at NT’s command, although he didn’t make the bug guys speak - it was NT who was speaking with Garett’s voice and mouth. “See some messages from their Maelstrom chief and a few calls. They had to be in and out, it’s about the black Chevalier. Gimme a minute.”

Kane drew a cigarette pack out of one of his vest pockets and smoked. He offered his men some, but nobody agreed - they either refused, or simply had their own pack. He was smiling, looking at Garett sitting in obedience as NT browsed everything he wanted in Garett’s head.

The look on Barker’s face was surprisingly distrubred. Kane stretched his hand out with an unlit cigarette between his fingers towards him, but Barker refused. Kane insisted, knowing very well that no usual cigarette could completely distract a man from something he is not used to witness, but it worked, at least in the slightest. Kane wasn’t smiling anymore, and Barker took the cigarette.

“Okay,” Garett’s mouth said, “apparently, some of these wondermen saw the Chevalier somewhere around the city, did a quick scan and realized the car was, in fact, armored and all. He tracked it to this place and - fucking brace yourself - went in and tried to buy it,” Garett - or NT, rather - bursted out laughing again, and so did everyone else in the chop shop. Even Barker, shocked and slightly dazed, had his chuckle. “Anyway, he was told to fuck off, got pissed and promised to come back.”

“Really now? They just wanted an armored car?” Kane asked, smiling again. “How much did he offer?”

“Way lower than it costs. He was trying to be scary and all that, but Larson told him to try and buy it at the actual car center. Well, I guess that’s why he flatlined.”

“Is that it?”

“This is it.”

“Lay him down. Amp the pain,” Kane commanded, looking for something around the shop. The crew of the chop shop were not as scared anymore, although they did not seem very enlightened by the demise of their boss. “You guys got a saw here or something? Something cut shit?”

One of the mechanics brought Kane a reciprocating saw with a 12 inch-long blade. Kane raised his eyebrows, smiling even wider and look at the worker and the saw.

“The fuck is this?” he laughed. “Shit, I guess you guys really do CHOP around here!” Kane pulled the trigger of the saw a few times, turning his smile into a grin as the loud buzzing raged up and down. “Thanks, man.” He give the worker a friendly pat on his shoulder and turned to NT. “Fry the rest of this trash.”

NT disconnected from Garett’s neck, leaving him breathing heavily on the floor. He quickly went around the chop shop killing the Maelstrom gangsters and making sure they feel it way more than they should.

“Meatbags…” Garett hissed. “Dead meatbags…”

“NT, move this dumbass to the paint booth,” Kane said and kicked Garett right into his face. “Don’t want a bigger mess in here. Fellas, pack those fine gentlemen in that lovely carriage they arrived in. And Barker, come with us.”

Four of them - Kane, Barker, NT and Garett - moved to the paint booth, which was thankfully empty, and NT laid Garett on the grit. Barker stood behind the three and tried to find something else to look at.

Naturally, the booth was all white and brightly lit, with a wide grit in the middle where two men stood above the third one. Kane asked NT if Garett gets extra treatment in terms of painful sensations, pulled the trigger and slowly kneeled before Garett. Barker turned around and winced when he heard loud and clear buzzing noise changing, mixing with the sound of agonized and fearful screaming, flesh and blood making their distinctive, wet sound when torn forcefully, and metal being cut - few could call the symphony easy to ignore.

Kane was done with decapitating Garett in less than a minute, though. NT disconnected and noticed Kane looking at Barker’s back with concern. Then Kane looked up at NT, nodded his head, and NT walked out of the booth with the reciprocating saw dripping with blood and some liquid Garett had - used to have - in his system. Kane slowly stood up and approached Barker.

He turned around with an expression on his face that one could only describe as attempt. Barker was staring into Kane’s eyes, ignoring his dead-serious expression, in silence. Kane slightly moved aside, making an inviting gesture with his hand, revealing Garetts headless corpse on the grit.

“I see you’re not very comfortable with your first day on-duty,” he said, looking right into Barker’s eyes as well. “Look.” Kane sounded calm and steady, yet not in a menacing manner. His voice was a teaching one, trying to explain something and push Barker in the right direction. Barker obeyed, gluing his eyes to Garett. His face moved slightly, yet it gave out an impression of an effort being made.

NT entered the booth and stretched his hand out towards Kane. He took a white plastic bag and nodded, still looking at Barker. Kane gave him the bag.

“Put this asshole’s head in it, will ya?” he asked calmly, putting his hand on Barker’s shoulder. Barker inhaled deeply and nodded, trying to get himself together. He slowly approached the body and crouched before the severed head, looking at it with disgust, determination and hesitation coming and going as he moved his hand closer and closer to grasp and put it into the plastic bag clumsily. He mumbled something quietly, but still, he managed to do the thing. “I’ll be outside.”

Barker collected himself and stood up. The stench ceased to be so bad and his eyes were jumping around the chop shop - its walls, its cars, its lights. He walked through the chop shop and saw no bodies on the concrete floor. The men he walked in with were chatting with the workers. They seemed casual about what happened there mere moments before. Even Larson’s body was not there anymore.

As he stepped outside, a car horn blasted and drew his attention to an ordinary dark-red car. Kane was sitting on the passenger’s seat with a cigarette between his teeth. Barker got in, looking at Kane and holding the plastic bag in his hand.

“I’ll take that one,” Kane said, smiling. He put the bag on the floor between his legs, lit up his cigarette and leaned towards Barker, but looked past him - outside the window - and shouted. “Hey, Mike! You drive the van! Everyone else wrap up, good job!” Kane made himself comfortable in his seat and took a nice long draw on the cigarette. “Alright, big man B, let’s go to All Food.”

“All Food?” Barker asked. He was shocked, but not shocked enough to not realize how smart the question wasn’t. “Like, just three of us? What’s this about?”

Kane was looking at him with a casual smile people usually have near the end of their work day. “We’re just going to deliver a message and call it a day, B,” he said, putting his non-augmented hand on Barker’s shoulder. “Now, drive, we can talk AND drive if want to, can’t we?”

Barker started the car and accelerated abruptly. There was something that felt extremely close to a tangible tension in the vehicle. Barker felt uneasy. There was not a single possibility to call him a fragile man who has not seen things during his life in Night City. Violence was a common sight for his eyes, and he actually exercised quite some against other people for various reasons, yet even he, for whatever reason, felt as if the events at the chop shop was blatantly brutal and cruel.

They were not talking to each other and Kane turned on the radio. Barker was a living autopilot of a man - he was thinking about the things he saw earlier that day and still drove the car as if he had his full attention on the process. Barker’s life experience featured multiple things that usually toughened a person up - substances and many of their consequences, endless fighting, anger and gang disputes always leave their mark on a person’s perception of the reality and its components. Barker definitely has seen a murder before - murders, actually - yet they seemed and felt different from the chop shop.

As soulless as it seems, Night City does have a soul of its own. It may be a dark and sticky one, it may have an ugly stench, but it still does have a soul. The violence and murder Barker had seen before that day were almost identical to Night City - they were emotional. Back in NCPD they often refer to certain things Barker was used to as crimes of passion due to the emotional motivation the acts had behind them. Secretly, Barker actually agreed with the phrase - after all, killing someone to prove your territory belongs to nobody else but you, and there is nobody else who can even think about selling their stuff there - what is that, if not crime of passion? Isn’t there passion when one man shoots another because of a cheater-girlfriend? What is there, except passion, that pushes people to most of the violence and crimes that happen all over Night City? Why else do people here?

The Night City kind of passion that Barker knew all too well always shone with a bright sense of anger. It was loud, kicking and screaming, overwhelming. It always numbed everything around you and there was nothing but the act and you, the witness.

The way Kane and his team acted that day felt cold-blooded and far from personal. They were loud and passionate at first, but soon, there was that odd thing about the chop shop - it felt as if there was nothing to it. Nobody - except Garett - was screaming loudly enough to numb the world around. It was almost free from any tension or dread or adrenaline for Kane and his team - as if they did not care at all. That indifference, the stillness they had was the reason why Barker felt so uneasy - it was purely sinister to him.

When they got closer to All Food, Kane told Barker to drive closer to the gates. Barker did. Kane stepped out of the car, holding the bag in his hand, and gestured Mike to drive closer. The black van now was parked along the gate, blocking it, Mike got into the dark-red car and Kane pushed the button on the intercom.

“Who the fuck are you?!” the metallic voice greeted him.

Kane held up the bag closer to the camera, smiled and threw the bag at the black van, making an audible clack against it. He got back into the dark-red car and said, “Alright, back to Charter Hill. Buck A Slice would be a nice stop.”

Barker didn’t say anything. He simply drove the car to the nearest Buck A Slice restaurant he could remember and stopped the car. It was already dark outside, with a lot fewer people and cars on the streets, and Kane was smoking a cigarette again. Barker turned off the engine and looked at him.

“I’m out,” said Mike. “Did well for the first day, Barker.” He pat Barker’s shoulder a few times and got out of the car, disappearing somewhere in the shadows of the city in a few moments.

“How’re you?” asked Kane. He looked back at his friend and offered him a cigarette, which was gladly accepted. “Wanna get in and grab something?”

“Nah, I’m good,” he said after a pause that was long enough to let Kane know that Barker was not really that good. “You can go ahead.”

“Okay.” Kane smiled and went into the restaurant.

Barker sighed. He stepped outside and lit up the cigarette Kane gave him and stared into the sky. He was out on an empty, narrow street with a view wide open to Night City’s skyline to his left. Naturally, he felt a lot easier now, in the silence of the night and soothing chill of it, but the emotions he felt earlier were alien to him, they were unknown. As anything unknown, they scared him reasonably, but the bigger problem about all this was a simple fact of burden those emotions could mean for his further endeavors with Kane.

Speaking of Kane - he stepped outside, holding two middle-sized sodas in his hands and handled one to Barker.

“Thanks,” he said. Barker’s face looked tired.

“No problem,” Kane smiled. “Did you like the show today?” He took a draw on his soda and kept looking at Barker, actually waiting for his response.

“Well,” Barker made a short pause, “That’ll take some time to get used to. I mean, I’ve seen shit, okay? I can handle it.” He took a sip of his soda as well. “That’s just...”

“More intimidating?” Kane interrupted. The smile on his face started to feel a bit out of place given how often it is present on his face. “I know you’re no saint, B. Like, why else would ask me about open slots on my job otherwise, right?” Kane chuckled and hit Barker’s back in a friendly manner, yet his palm and arm felt more like a punch. “Sense of power and control is way more frightening, you know. Two junkies screaming and hitting each other is... Trivial, I guess? We’ve all learned to ignore that. But shit we did today - and do quite often - it just has you there, right on the spot. You’re present with it, you completely see and hear it.”

Barker was not sure if he understood or appreciated in any manner why or what Kane was talking about.

“Barker, you wanted in,” Kane gave him the most serious and confident and actually frightening look Barker has ever seen from Kane towards himself. “There is no easy way back, so, uh, yeah,” he smiled again and put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “You’ll get used to it.” Kane winked and made that stupid sound with a corner of his mouth, as he stood up and got back into a car.

Barker finished his cigarette, feeling uncertain and weird, and got back in as well. Kane put the radio on quietly.

“Kane,” he said, “can I ask you a question?”

“Sure thing, go ahead.”

“Why are you so barebones? I mean, I’ve known you for years, but you never told me about any augmentations, man.” Barker could not stop thinking about the weird feelings he got from his first day as a Westbrook mercenary, especially from the way his good old friend Kane was so serious about him not having an easy way back. Talking was a good refuge from all the thoughts he deemed unnecessary.

“What do you suppose, gee,” Kane laughed. “Eat your veggies and pump your iron! It’s bioware, Barker, nothing much. Well, it’s not usual bioware, of course, but you get the idea. I know it sounds like a drag, but trust me, this is way better than getting hit by an EMP charge or getting wired and hacked or whatever.”

“Man, if I can afford that later, Imma get used to the job twice as fast!” Barker smiled for the first time in hours. Kane laughed and looked at him, slowly shaking his head.

“I can’t even afford a fraction of what I’ve been pumped with,” he said. “It’s all employer’s money. Which means, well, that I kinda belong to the guy, but it’s not much different from any other job, right?”

“Belong?”

“Meaning I am supposed to work for him for a dozen more years or so. It can be extended as well, but again, no complaints, I feel great. I mean... Barker, it pays well. Bioware has tons of pros, too. I live the best version of my life I could think of, so whatever, he can have his pocket Kane all he wants.” Kane took a sip of his soda again. “Drive me home, bud, will ya?”



Next morning, laying in the sun and smoking a cigar that costed probably thrice as much as he himself does, Kane was waiting for his employer in one of the many impressive mansions of North Oak. Looking over the green fields and little lakes, palm trees and the sunlight playing on everything it touched, Kane could almost forget where and who he was.

“Here’s the man,” he heard from behind and stood up, smiling and putting the cigar into his left hand. “Never failed me once, never asked questions he didn’t need to and always - I repeat, ALWAYS - does the job in one way or another. Kane, you left an unexpected impression on someone recently.”

Kane smiled again, looking at the least expected man his employer brought with himself. Before him was the leader of the Maelstrom gang - much taller and wider than Garett from yesterday. The leader was smiling faintly and stretched his arm towards Kane.

“Well,” Kane said, shaking his hand with the leader of the gang, “this meeting is surprising, too! How can I help you, sir?” Kane smiled, holding the cigar in a corner of his mouth full of perfect white teeth, with a smile not of a mercenary, but a businessman at the verge of a great deal.
 
"Yamaza-san sends his regards" said the stocky, short Asian man as he slid onto the wooden bench in front of me.

I nodded, slurping up the rest of the ramen in my chipped ornamental bowl. I laid down the chopsticks and reached into my inside coat pocket, noticing how his eyes darted around nervously and his posture tensed ever so slightly.

"I'm not armed, friend", I slowly placed the memory stick on the placemat in front of him and then laid both hands, palms down, on the table. "I could have sent the files digitally with mil-spec encryption. I don't see why we had to have a meat-meet."

He slotted the memory stick, his eyes flashing. After few seconds, he pocketed the stick with great satisfaction.

"We believe that one should always conduct business face to face"

"And our business has concluded, has it not? Just hand me my credits and we're done."

"A few questions, if you would please indulge me?", he grinned mirthlessly.

"Sure, what would you like to know?"

"You're new to Night City. Nobody has ever heard of you and there are no records of you. No gang affiliations. Nothing. We've never seen anyone this invisible before."

"Yeah, well that's my specialty. Ghosting the system. That's why I got the job, wasn't it? Remember I found you, not the other way around."

"Very true. Your negative presence is truly a boon when hacking countermeasures are rendered useless. Nonetheless, we would ... greatly appreciate ... if you could shed any light on how one attains this level of cyber-anonymity. We insist". He grinned again, but with malice.

"Is there a problem here?". A grizzled veteran with two century-old prosthetic legs, Papa Choi ran the ramen kitchen here in Dresden Street. Cagey by nature, all I knew about him was how he was a soldier in some war orchestrated by some alphabet agency. Until he got his legs blown off that is. At least he was good at rustling up some pretty passable food. Just don't ask where he gets his meat from.

I waved him away "Nah, just get me a bottle of semi-sake". Papa Choi scowled and lumbered away into the shady depths of the kitchen.

"Enough chit chat, where are my credits?", I snapped.

"We believe that the stated reward of 1 million credits is satisfactory"

"Great."

"We also do not believe in loose ends". He sneered as he reached into his coat.

A soft whisper erupted from the paper wall next to the man. He clutched at the side of his neck as a look of astonishment crossed his face and he slumped forward. I deftly caught his head, laid it gently on the table.

"Remotely fired needle round coated in Medusozoa neurotoxin. It will be over very soon"

I leaned forward so I could whisper into his ear.

"Yamaza-san, I know you're listening. I also believe a face to face is best. See you soon."

Papa Choi ducked out from the kitchen, a heavy tote-bag slung over his shoulder and an assault rifle in his calloused hands. "Are we really doing this? Are we ready?"

I looked into the distance - I could just about make out the skyscraper. An obsidian monolith stabbing into the neon-lit clouds.

"We have to be. We have a little under 11 hours to take Yamaza's cerebral cortex to Victor."

I looked at Papa Choi. "We do this together...one last time"
 
One More Day

Raul’s Kiroshi optic overlay told him it was two in the afternoon when a tall, burly gentleman tapped him on the shoulder. Raul jumped. He couldn’t hear anything over the Samurai playlist he always had on while he worked. He turned off the floor Zamboni and tapped the side of his head, pausing the music.

The burly man looked him up and down, noting his janitor’s uniform and obvious lack of enhancing cybernetics, and clearly assessed him as non-threatening. Of course, Raul was packing, as most did in Night City, but in the run-down slum of a Watson building he worked in, he couldn’t carry openly unless he wanted to get perforated.

Unlike the two people who had walked up behind him, he thought. Mercs, Raul was sure. They looked like they wanted to get perforated. The tall man was Valentinos, but he was a long way from Heywood. He had his dark hair pulled into a topknot and was covered in tattoos, but he had a genial smile on his face, and spoke to him in Spanish. The woman next to him was silent, her gun already drawn. She wore a Samurai jacket Raul wished he could pull off, the sleeves rolled up to reveal unaugmented arms. A few lines of cyberware ran across her face, her expression unreadable as she scanned her surroundings. A woman poked her head out of her apartment as she passed, and the merc pounded on her doorframe, wordlessly ordering the woman to get back inside.

Raul nodded to the burly merc and called the elevator. As he waited for its return trip, he overheard the mercs’ conversation as they made their way casually but carefully to the end of the dingy, dimly-lit hall.
“What did you tell him?” the woman asked her partner.

“Just that if he knew what was good for him, he would go clean the lobby and not call the NCPD until he saw us leave.” The man paused. “Do you really not have a translator installed?”

Raul entered the elevator, grateful it was empty so he didn’t have to struggle to get his Zamboni in.

“Don’t remind me,” she muttered. They hit the end of the hall, an apartment Raul had never seen the inside of. “Ready, Jackie?”

“I’ll follow your lead, jaina,” the man said, a smile on his face as the elevator doors closed on Raul.

# # #

Raul did as it was insinuated he should do. He cleaned the lobby, and waited till the two mercs had left, buzzing and covered in dust and blood, before he called the NCPD. He wasn’t even sure he should. The chances they would show up were low, and the chances they’d give a shit were even lower.

So Raul was surprised when he was yet again interrupted on the fourth floor of the building. He paused his music again and turned around to see a squad of uniformed NCPD officers led by a plainclothes man with bright blue eyes who introduced himself as Inspector Rodriguez.

“You the one who called this in?” the inspector asked.

“Yes, sir,” Raul said, rubbing the back of his head. “I didn’t want any trouble. But when I heard the gunshots I figured I might as well report it.”

“And you just went back to cleaning, despite knowing it was a crime scene?” Inspector Rodriguez crossed his arms.
“I didn’t know if you’d show up,” Raul said. “Everyone knows you’re spread thin.” He looked at the floor. “Besides, I just don’t want to get fired for not doing my job, sir. They’ve already threatened to replace me with a robot.”

Rodriguez ran his palm down his face. He signaled to the officers behind him, who proceeded down the hall, telling the woman who poked her head out of her door yet again to get back inside unless she had anything to report.
“Why don’t you tell me what happened? From the beginning,” the inspector said.

Raul recounted his day, sure to mention the “threat” he’d received that kept him from reporting, but also avoiding a direct description of the two mercs who’d been through. “It’s dark in here,” he said. “I didn’t get a good look.” “I was just so scared.” The inspector kept a straight face throughout the process, nodding along.

“I don’t suppose there are any cameras in here?” Rodriguez asked. Raul shook his head.

An officer made his way back down the hall. “Report, Jones,” Rodriguez said. “You look a little green.”
Jones nodded. “Scavs, sir. Looks like someone did our job for us.”

“‘Someone’?” Rodriguez ran his palm down his face again. “Any idea who? How many dead?”

“From medical debris on the balcony, looks like TT. No witnesses inside the apartment. Maybe fifteen, sixteen dead? It’s hard to tell from all the,” and here the officer paused, suppressing a shudder. “From all the parts, sir.”

Rodriguez sighed. “Thanks for your help, citizen,” he said to Raul, then he headed down the hallway to the crime scene. “Clear the area,” he said. “I want to interview everyone on this floor and then kick them out until we’re done. Starting with the cleaning gentleman over there.

Jones motioned to Raul. “Back to the lobby, sir,” he said.

“Can I just go to a different floor?” Raul asked. “Please, officer, I just don’t want to get fired.”

Jones shifted from one foot to the next. “Fine,” he said. “Just get out of here, quick.”

Raul headed to the third floor and proceeded to clean the hallway. It was only fifteen minutes later he heard the elevator door open behind him, barely audibly over the music in his ears. He paused it and turned around to find himself face-to-metal with the Maelstrom ganger who had his gun in Raul’s face.

Raul immediately put his hand up as a few other gangers poured out of the hallway.

“Give me one reason I shouldn’t pull this trigger, meat,” the ganger said. His voice was harsh and mean, made even more so by the speaker it went through. He pushed the gun closer to Raul.

Raul tried to look the ganger in the eye but couldn’t figure out which of the nine glowing red orbs he should look at. He tried his best not to cry. He wanted to say he had a family. He wanted to say he was just doing his job, he just didn’t want to get fired. He wanted to say he just wanted one day where his life wasn’t threatened by gun-toting psychos looking for a quick buck. But he sighed. This was Night City, after all.

“The NCPD are one floor above, investigating a scav hideout,” Raul said, as straightfaced as he could. “If you shoot, they’ll be down here in seconds.”

The ganger cocked his head. One of the men behind him ran down the stairs. There was a minute of complete silence. Raul was sweating, and he was pretty sure that the gangers were smiling.

Then the other ganger came back up the stairs, nodding. Raul breathed deep as the leader removed his gun from his face.
“You never saw us,” the ganger said, walking backwards down the hall with his gun trained on Raul.

Raul nodded. “Never saw you,” he said, silently praying. He didn’t even believe in God. But every day he ended up praying, thanking whatever was out there that he had gotten through one more day.
 
Perhaps the most important thing to find in a hopeless world is the love between two friends.

You see, it was a cold rainy night, and Jackie Welles, acompanied by his long time friend, V, were celebrating a job well done. A job that may be the last time they got out in one piece.

"Almost ironic that we're pissing the night away in a place called the Afterlife, we're practically bulletproof, hahaha!" Said Jackie, in a swashbuckling type manner.

"Just keep your pants on Jackie, we're not outta the woods yet". There was something about the way V spoke that didn't exactly inspire confidence. The nervous glances, the slight hunch of his back, the way he looked into his drink like he was trying to see something that wasn't there. A telltale sign of caution, almost poetic in a sense. Something was wrong.

V looked at Jackie, and his eyes began to water as he moved closer.

"Oh Cabrones! What are you-"

V latched himself tightly on to Jackie's clothes, and began to sob uncontrolably onto his warm, well built chest. "Easy hombre, Easy. We'll make it through this. Any Cabron that gets in our way'll eat a mouthful of lead!" Jackie could see that V was clearly in distress, and began to look around for onlookers as he embarrasingly patted V on the back.

V began to calm down, and began to tighten his embrace with Jackie, Jackie squeezed back.

"Jackie, your pistol grip is starting to dig into my side a bit…"

"Damnit, I forgot my guns in the car."



The entire crowd of the Afterlife went silent, and were completely fixated and the two friends embracing. "What the hell is the matter with all of you?" Said Jackie. "Can't two bros hug it out without having a whole bar STARE AT THEM!"

The crowd quickly resumed their affairs, and tried to not look in the duo's general direction.
 
Heritage

You want to know why I’m here? Why I would move to Night City?

I’m here because I fucked up – just like everyone that ever moves to this twisted, backwards town. From the corpos sitting 62 stories up in their City Center corner offices to the gang bangers slumming it down in Pacifica, Night City is where fuck-ups like you and me come to thrive. Because it’s one of the only places in the world where we can play the shitty hands that life deals us to our advantage.

The worst thing is that I’ve been here before. I made it out and swore I would never come back. But as you can see, there is no real way out of here.

My grandparents moved to Night City from the Dominican Republic in ’24 right after the Arasaka nuclear attack. With the danger of nuclear fallout so close to the attack, most pillars of government and law enforcement were high tailing it out of here. ICE wouldn’t be a problem if you know what I mean. So mis abuelos saw it as “now or never.” It was time for them to finally achieve the dream that is life in the United States. They settled in the Heywood / Santo Domingo area with tons other Latinos that had the same idea. You see Abuelo, Dad’s dad, had gotten mixed up with a bad group of people down in DR – loan sharks that would have no problem picking off each member of his family until they got their money. He did the unthinkable to pay them back what he borrowed and he eventually did, but that just made him even more of a target. Night City seemed like a godsend – a chance to give their families a better life, but my grandparents would soon find out that this place was even worse than what they had left.

My parents were both pretty young when their families relocated to Night City. Mamá was only six years old and my father was ten. Experiencing what he did in such formative years, it’s no wonder he turned out the way he did. He had seen his dad get pushed around by those men over the years and now he was running away from them, putting his wife and kids in harm’s way to do so. Looking at his father made him sick. My dad promised himself that he would never let anyone hold that much power over him. He would never be that weak.

Yeah… my pops caught the way of the land quickly. By 13 he was working with the a small group of kids that ran contraband for a local gang. At 15 he headed that group and a few years later he joined the gang himself. Dad’s experiences made him hungry for power. When he got it, he was careful in the way he maintained it. He knew how to command a room, how to make you feel like one of his closest friends but still made it known that he would put the fear of God into you if you ever crossed him. Those under him were happy to serve and those above wanted to keep him close.

Mom’s childhood was different. After arriving in NC, her parents worked desperately to provide for her and her sisters. With the few connections they had, they were able to start a small restaurant in Villa Del Rey within a year of moving to Night City. Mom’s parents could always figure out how to create something out of nothing. They instilled in her the values of courage, hard work, and the importance of going after one’s dreams. And Mom would never let go of that mindset.

Mom met Dad when she was 18. They were polar opposites. Mom was as close to a natural beauty as you could get in her day with just a few cybernetic implants. She had the bare minimum you know, the nasal filters, radiation detector, and a couple cyberoptic and cyberaudio implants. Dad on the other hand was super into cyberware by the time they met. He would go for body plating over subdermal armor and later get a cyberarm optimized for weaponry. He always liked showing off his metal, said he was able to match the the strength and power of his outer body to that of his inner mind.

Even though she looked all sweet and innocent, my mother was a force to be reckoned with. She always spoke her mind and never took shit from anybody, especially not my dad. She was resistant to his charms and he couldn’t stand it. A natural beauty like her, he had to make her his. It took him just about four years to finally win her over. Mom realized Dad was more than the literal metal-head he seemed to be. He was smart and full of ambition. Back then they were Lucely y Manuel. They were inseparable.

They got together and had me as Dad was gunning for the top of the ranks in the gang. By the time I was 12, he was just below the ring leaders – the masterminds behind the whole operation. Back then, I only knew them as my tios. They would come over to the house for Mom’s cooking and bring me candy and various presents. Ask me to show them my room. Ask me to show them more. It happened a few times before Mom found out and told my father he had to stop it. I remember I had never seen my Dad look so powerless. He talked to Mom about how he was so close, how in just a few more years he would stage a coup and the gang would be all his, how he would ruin them then. He held me and told me loved me and that he was sorry. He cried over me and told me it wouldn’t happen again. I knew it wasn’t his fault, but I was disappointed that he of all people didn’t have the strength to stand up for me.

After that time, I would always get a warning when the gang was coming over. “How about you head over to your primo’s for lunch today?” Dad would say. It worked for a couple years but it wasn’t a sustainable solution. Those men are kind that stop at nothing to get what they want. They wouldn’t find me at home, but I was around. It had been some time now, so I was growing into a woman. They saw it and liked what they saw. So they decided to make one more pass at me. When I got home that night, Mom didn’t have to ask what had happened. She saw and she was tired of it. Tired of the men Dad surrounded himself with that longed for nothing more than a gunfight and bit of popola.

That night, Mom and I left Night City. She met with a fixer outside of Dad’s gang who got us new identification, scanned our tech, and made sure we could remain untraceable. We moved down to Santa Cruz, California and had a fresh start at life. Mom got a good enough job and I was able to finish up high school and put myself through college. I studied neurology and alternative reality at UC Santa Cruz and became a Braindance editor at DMS Studios down in Los Angeles. I was good at my job and I could afford to take care of my mom back in SC, but I felt like something was missing. DMS’s scripted shit was not what people wanted to see. Most people in my line of work came from the entertainment industry. They liked sewing clips together and digging for good ratings, but I knew the power of Braindance. There were so many feelings that no one was tapping into.

I started working with some underground dancers to record some new work. I would have them go about their normal days and enlist friends and actors to produce the scenes in order to get the most authentic reactions. I would edit clips with company equipment and scrub it clean before anyone could know. I sold chips to clubs and other underground buyers. My stuff started picking up heat, but it wasn’t enough for me. I started having my dancers use mood boosters and putting them in wildly unpredictable scenarios. I knew there was a market for that stuff, but I let it go too far. It got away from me. One of my scene producers fucking killed a guy. Said it was a hot new thing going around Night City that could pull big money. I had to get out of there before they could trace it back to me. And look where I ended up.

When I got back into town, I thought I would check up on Manny. Looks like someone found out about his coup a few years back. He was sitting at the seat by the throne, but there was a new leader in the gang – some young cat that wasn’t on par with the values of honor and brotherhood that the gang had held itself up to over the years. Dad probably thought he would roll over easy, but once this big boss leader heard Dad’s plan, he decided to make an example out of my father by taking him out in a new way. His boys set him up to get shot while he was fucking dancing. They now play that BD to every initiate in the gang just to show them what would happen if they were to try shit.

Dad was too weak to stand up for me back then, but he was a good father. He gave over 50 years of his life to that gang, and he didn’t deserve that. Ever since I heard, I thought maybe there’s good in me being back here. A Braindance tech is a good connection to have in Night City and I’m ready to get acquainted with the right people for the right price. Connect me with every big-name choomba you know because I am going to do what my dad couldn’t. I am going to bring the leader of the Valentino’s to fucking ruin.
 
Last edited:
"Dog!" Merry snaps. He means me of course. The three hired guns smile, but they are only assuming when it comes to the reasoning behind the name. They think the skinny limbs and cheap clothing means I'm a street rat working for rack time or food. Zombie doesn't shift a muscle from the relaxed lean he's been doing against the crumbling wall of this flood duct but I see his eyes shift slowly to me watching for a sign.

Zombie and me came up together. I left a twenty-k payday to drag him out of a burning car and patch him up, and he killed my father. I had brothers of sorts, but you don't get closer than Zombie and me and Merry knows it. I don't give any sign and Zombie stays where he is on the wall, looking to the world like he just doesn't care.

"We're expecting a double cross, triple cross, or general ol'fashion fuck up," Merry continues to the three gun men as I approach. Two of them smell like street trash. Like sweat and cheap tobacco and day old vomit and piss. That wasn't to say they slept in puke or piss recently, just one tends to pick up a myriad of scents normal humans can't smell. That was the first cyberware I installed. Mostly because the ghouls that ran the local chop shop pulled it off a dead corpo's stack and tossed it in as trade when they didn't have the eddies to pay up. Not sure what a suit needed it for. I mean you could smell fear with it and maybe lies, if you were in a clean room, but out here in the world it wasn't that precise.

It did let me know that one of these boys had gotten laid recently and one was a drunk still sweating off a heavy night. The other one, he had his hair processional cut and cleaned and then rubbed in some cheap gel for this job. His fingers and toes were professionally maintained though, and he had the expensive smell of full-body skin rejuv treatments on him.

I wondered if Merry knew he was something-in-a-sheep's-wool, wolf maybe, or just another hustler fallen on hard times. I'd keep an eye on him for it except I was already keeping my eye on all of them.

"Nathan here," Merry said as I reached his side, "Dog to you, will be tracking our courier. Dog, you're point on this."

The two gunners blinked as they realized I was going to call some of the shots. The third man didn't move. Not that he was surprised. He didn't move in the same way Zombie didn't move when he was cycling. He's eyes would freeze as would his body and his amped up brain would cycle through all the "push points" zombie called them seeing everything without moving his eyes. It was some serious Kerenzikov shit. Like full on stacks of eddies implants. The price of small islands and what not. At last that's what it had cost Zombie.

I felt my ear itch, but didn't do anything beyond stare at the man. I knew he knew I was staring, uncomfortable, and nervous, but he didn't know why. He could see the physical reactions but had to guess at the psychological ones. Best to give him a plausible reason.

"I don't trust any of you," I said truthfully, and some part of me knew, absolutely knew he could tell I was being truthful.
"So here's how it's going to go. On coms I'm going to drop waypoints. Merry is going to get them to you however he does his stuff. I'll stay linked to him. I've got a Retribution grenade I'll be holding, so if they head shot me or the like there will be a boom. There will also be a boom if I'm fucked but still kicking. In combat I'm a useful distraction, so I'll be the one behind cover or screaming, please don't shoot me. I'll track the package and you will move in and retrieve it whenever you like the lay of the land ahead."

"And that one," the expensive smelling gun-for-hire asked.

"Zombie?" Merry said turning to look at him, "he's just the driver-"

I've seen Zombie move before. Literally saw him reach out and deflect an incoming 40mm round into the 60mm opening of a trashcan five meters away while he was in the middle of a six-on-one fight. There is a sense that everything has already happened, he moves so fast. This guy moved that fast.

I was thinking that sounds like one shot, as he drew his weapon and fired twice into the other gun-men's shoulders as his weapon aligned with where Zombie was.

There were more shots as I stood there stupidly. I'm not amped up with boostware but instinct is a hell of a thing. I dove toward him instead of away. He was trying to kill Zombie after all, maybe already had.

I didn't get close of course. I barely shifted my weight before he knew what I was planning and the gun was headed toward me. That's all I saw before his hand flashed red as Zombie's little spitfire let out the zipping noise of the full auto.

Then it was the hand to hand of two kinetic boosted men trying their best to kill the other one. There was literal blood in the air and blows too fast to follow.

Then it was over. Zombie reloaded, pointed at the downed man's head and another zip of auto-fire and it was over with a finality that everyone understood.

Zombie leveled the weapon at me, no past me, toward Merry.

"I didn't know," the man said, but I could smell the lie on his sweat.

"That doesn't smell like the truth," I said stepping away from the two men.

"I was thinking of ripping you off," Merry said flatly, calmly, "There was a bonus I didn't mention in our other conversations, base pay was legit, I just lied about the bonus. These, I knew nothing about that," he said indicating the dead man and the two guns who were trying to stop the bleeding while not drawing attention.

I stepped closer and took a deep breath. There was fear there, and all the other things about Merry that made him Merry, that indo-chinese tobacco he liked to smoke, the smell of street noodles, and the cheap paraffin from his religious candles. I didn't smell anything like a lie on him.

Still we had a decision to make, Zombie and me. I glanced at him and he didn't even shift an eye to me. They'd done a good job on the skin graphs. His tattoos covered what the surgery couldn't. The pain editor he had wouldn't let him feel it if the man had gotten in a killing blow though, just like it had let him keep functioning while he had been on fire. Funny how we each adapted to the beatings we earned as kids. I didn't see any obvious mortal wounds.

"We get two thirds," I said, glancing down at the two hired guns. They were hurting but not fucked. A heavy spray of new-skin and a medi-patch and they'd be able to get the job done.

"These two split the last third of the bonus," I continued, "Seems fair to me," I continued, "You try to screw us out of pay so you take the pay cut."

"Deal," Merry said, though what else could he say with Zombie's gun still pointed at him.

"Let's get you checked out," I said to Zombie as I moved closer to him. His face was already starting to purple and I could see where the other man had dug at his eyes with finger nails.

"There is a medi-kit in the green bag," I said to Merry, "get it and get to those two patched up and ready to go, courier is going to be landing in half an hour and you still have to set your gear up."

It was odd, but as I checked Zombie out I knew the balance of power had shifted between Merry and me. I'd have watch him from now on, see how he handled this new hierarchy. I didn't care who ran the jobs so long as the pay was there and me and Zombie could walk away from them. Too many egos on the street looking to say they ran a crew for my tastes. Still, if you wanted something done right sometimes you had to take the reins.
 
Last edited:
The Lady of Space and Time

Not much is really known about the girl who caused chaos over in Santa Domingo a few weeks past. Some claim that she sought death and destruction everywhere she went, yet it was clear she had no gang affiliation when she demolished both the Maelstrom and Steel Dragons in her way.

What baffles me the most is that in what little braindance footage I could gather from my contacts, the breakneck speed and almost dance-like grace she possessed was both admirably impressive and genuinely terrifying. It was almost like she had the ability to blink forward or be in two places at once all while being entirely organic with no visible augments.

I have a working theory that the ashen-haired girl is likely a weapon or live experiment gone wrong. We all know those corpo fucks over at Militech are no strangers to such exploits, and her ability to almost teleport and skate across short distances shows that she got some magnitude of training. I still don't think this is magic or anything as superstitious as that because lets be real here, the only magic in night city is probably how V got out of corpo hell.

It might be worth looking into, who knows what we can learn from each other if she does come in peace. From what I see, she looks lost and doesn't exactly fit into the place of things. If anything, we could probably reverse-engineer her blade and see if V could put it to use. Sure it's not as elegant or civilized as pointing at things and squeezing the trigger, but shit if it ain't stylish as hell.
 
One Shot

“3500, take it or leave it”.

The stench of the breath that accompanied the con artist was salt in the wound. No other merchant in the entirety of Night City’s underworld would look you in the eye and demand 3500 for S.H. although admittedly no other merchant would sell anything anywhere near as pure. S.H, less affectionately known as Speed Heal, did exactly what you’d expect it to. Much like most of the criminally addictive activities in Pacifica, it made no effort in hiding it’s true intention. As if provoked by the ridiculous price demanded for a substance that visibly coated the gutter trash of most of Night City, the artificial, rudimentary nerves in the shoulder of my synthetic arm shot an excruciating signal down to the tips of my fingers, causing a spasm that sent the cocktail of substances lining the merchant’s desk a whole foot into the air. Trillions of multicoloured particles formed a thin veil of beauty in front of my purveyor’s sarcastic grin, as the scarred remains of the natural tissue in his face contorted into mockery. I tried my best to swallow the bile forming a distaste in my mouth, and reached with a shaking hand for my last few remaining tokens. Unofficially the predominant currency among my circles, these tokens held almost identical value to the mainstream currencies of the masses, yet were completely untraceable, and almost impossible to fake.

“Fuck you, Mitch”

I spat through gritted teeth, tossing the required payment across the stall, making certain that some of them would land at the his feet, the only morsel of revenge I could take from the exchange. Making no effort but to clearly revel in my discomfort, Mitch’s belt swivelled round his bulging waist and unceremoniously dumped a small bag of electric blue powder in front of my desperate face. My breathing at this point had become so heavy that I could almost smell the sweat trickling down from my hair, dripping down into the parcel and and marking it as my own. Using the one arm that wasn’t holding me from collapsing onto the ground, I swiftly snatched up my converted week’s wages, and took one final look at the face of my capture. A final look that I had vowed would be upheld countless times, but the smirk painted across his face between well formed cheekbones and various different gang affiliation tattoos reminded us both that I would be back soon enough.
“Pleasure doing business with you”, the remark shot into my back, stimulating every struggling step I took back down the dimly lit alleyway, before breaching the very edge of the holographic wall and tumbling back onto the neglected streets of the Pacifica eastern Freeway.

The door of my apartment creaked shut and my entire frame crashed into the floor in perfect harmony, erupting in a symphony of flesh and metal. Face down in the stained and neglected carpet, I counted the locks snapping shut, each one bringing me some sense of security. Illicit acts of minor rebellion against the state had always brought me a temporary rush of adrenaline, yet it could never incite long term satisfaction. That, I had decided a long time ago, came from the constant and irresponsible use of Night City’s finest illegal analgesics. It would be unfair to my own record to state that I wasn’t taking these drugs safely, the insane rates that I payed for them ensured that at least some of the risks were negated, but it also wouldn’t be as fun if it was completely nullified. Having come to terms with the fact that none of my genuine limbs would be able to haul my damaged carcass down the narrow corridor, I left it to the strength of my forged right arm. Synthetic skin had been mercilessly peeeld from my forearm, exposing a mess of tangled wires and mechanisms that made up a large percentage of my being. Almost microcosmic of the rest of my body, next to none of the original parts were still present and operational. Even this entirely artificial appendage groaned in protest at the task of getting me to a more operational state, echoing my mind’s subconscious decision to let it be, and become another permanent natural addition to the floor. Small solace was ironically found in the size of my residence; the singular room on the ground floor of the cheapest building in all of Pacifica left little space for social activities, and subsequently less effort to traverse the accommodation when hitting one of my many rock bottoms.

As I lay there, in the process of being shepherded down the hallway by the fruits of my damaging lifestyle, a timeline of my being was played in front of me against the backdrop of chipped paint and dried blood. Countless trails of unravelled hand wraps stretched down the length of the room like blood dripping in from the door, coated in as much crimson as a plethora of rainbow coloured powders. Meaningless awards and sums of fake currency gave an artificial sense of accomplishment to the many insignificant beings that occupied the littered carpet, toppled in anger or defiance as my apathetic lifestyle looped. Yet buried within the arrest warrants and eviction notices was something I held much greater disdain for. Family portraits and otherwise noteworthy memories of my upbringing lay without their frames that had been pawned off long ago. Smiling faces and loving embraces were soaked in blood and tears of someone long since stripped of those luxuries, kept only around as a reminder of what was once a dream for the future. Staring up ahead from those flights of fancy, my new aspiration lay ahead, disguised as a thin layer of powder coating a stolen glass table set almost impossibly high above me.

Everyone takes Speed Heal for different reasons, and gets a different kick out of it. The searing pain that joins flesh to metal in my shoulder and thighs begs for one dosage, and yet my brain begs for something far greater. I reached across the table to the most valuable thing in my apartment by far: a synthetic carbon box, no bigger than a cigarette carton, with a pristine glass lid that stood out as a direct contrast to anything else in this cell. Contained within it was something very simple, and the only resemblance of sentiment that I still held dear: A Credit Card from sometime earlier in the 21st century, belonging to my grandfather and passed down directly to me as a usage for emergency situations only. The wealth that had once been contained within this card was supposedly immense, well beyond whatever I would have needed to set me up for life. Funny how things would have turned out if that had been the case. As fate would have it however, two days following his death and what would have been the inheritance of my fortune, it was rendered completely useless. A trail of drug debts and bribery had caught up to my family, plunging life from something resembling an upper-class way of life into absolute and undeniable poverty.

First they had come for the house. Screams of riot officials for the state of 2030’s California had shaken up the foundations, and the crash of a door forced off its hinges is something I was reminded on every time I hit my lowest, stumbling into the room I called home. Family members had been taken, property was seized and within the space of 35 minutes, everything we had known was gone. Shrieks of anguish and arguments between loved ones startled me back into a conscious state, seeing the actual state of affairs strewn out in front of me. The torment of past experiences had thrown my hands into a fury, organising seven perfectly equal piles ready and waiting patiently. Carefully thumbing the faded sort code of the card, I carefully flipped it over to make use of the other side, tapping gently to let loose a handful of micrograms of previous substances dished out with this card into the mix. How old these flecks were was impossible to say, yet knowing the eventual result of my family’s downfall, it would be safe to say that a cocktail of analgesics from the past century would be incorporated into tonight’s entertainment.

Satisfied with my craftsmanship, I took one last look around the desolate confines of my apartment and noted the usual list of dilapidated features that kept me grounded in reality. The blinds hanging half-heartedly over a green tinted window, many brick sized holes kept together with duct tape influenced the incoming light into an equally patchy hue that shone perfectly on all the worst aspects of my living. The single bed I had perched on was just as relentlessly stiff as ever, the worn and stubborn mattress only made bearable by the countless holes and tears left by me and many other tormented souls beforehand. My bruised and beaten feet settled comfortably into their usual imprints, lightly pressing into the concrete and wishing for some mediator between the two. Comfortably reminded of my situation, I collapsed my face into a collage of powder, unable to control my spine well enough for a steady descent, plunging face first through the glass table and finally settling among my snowy backdrop, fully immersed and embracing of the mental release I was to be given.

Shit, this isn’t Speed Heal.

Panicking and alone, I was thrown full force through the floor and plunged deep into a void stretching far beneath the material limitations of my room. Suspended physically in a timeless null space, glowing neon and cries of music and laughter taunted my senses, hurling me around in my confusion. Every unaltered aspect of my body was tossed and turned as if butterflies were ripping their way through my stomach. Every anchor point I had established was gone, replaced with an ever-moulding fabrication of my fears and aspirations, and every one of those was let loose in its full, unrelenting, unadulterated state. No longer could I hide behind the wall of my own apathy, these were the emotions in their purest forms. Memories I had from every stage of my life were inter-spliced with fictitious altercations. Every fight I had been in, every love I had let go, all the familiar aspects of pain and suffering in my life were thrown at me at once, gut punch after gut punch landing as I could only observe in faux-third person disbelief. The streets of Pacifica and Night City as a whole ran beneath me as I flew through the smog-filled skies, coursing through crowds of oblivious passers by as they went about their normal and grounded ways of life. Parts of the city I had never even dreamt of visiting cascaded by in a flurry of muddled colours, the distinct scum and elite of the world merging together into sums of their experiences, causing a wave of unfamiliar empathy to bring tears to my eyes and a sickness to my stomach. This was all too much to bear, and not something I could bring myself to come to peace with. The overload of information and feeling caused me to hurl uncontrollably, a seemingly endless spray of pent-up distaste coating the film of my artificial reality, blocking out the light and life of the suburb streets and plunging me into complete darkness.

“Aaron, are you ok? Aaron, breathe; you’re safe now”.

Blinding lights and a clinical white glow assaulted my senses, tinnitus ravaged my ears and my body rippled with a sense of unfamiliarity that pinned me down.

“I’m just going to need you to look at me, open your eyes and look at me”.

The voice was cold and unfamiliar, a feigned hint of understanding hung in the air and grounded me enough to come to. The regaining of my visual sense did nothing to alter the confusion, as the sight I was faced with made me reminisce for the chaos of whatever I had taken an indescribable amount of time prior. Seven unfamiliar faces peered down on me like angels from above, all of them uniformly dressed in white lab coats and protective gear, whether for their sake or mine was unclear. Nothing about my situation had any scent of familiarity whatsoever, even down to the feeling of my limbs and brain within myself. Strapped firmly down into a metal chair, I was completely absolved of any of my scars and indications of trouble; my skin was smooth and hairless, veins popping out from my forearms and legs, as well as the feeling of a well built and complete upper body and waist, entirely contrary to the state I had left reality in.

“Where the fuck am I?”

I made no attempt to hide the bitterness in my voice, nor did I recognise the tone in which it came out in. I had been pulled from my escape, and in spite of it’s unnatural feel and confusing sequence, it had been an escape, not a prison in which I found myself now.

“It’s ok, you’re back in the lab. You had quite the adventure last time you were out there, you’re lucky we managed to bring you back safely”.

Unsurprisingly, neither my lack of eye contact nor my dazed expression were particularly convincing in asserting understanding of the situation, yet intrigue had taken over confusion, and as far as I could tell, this room and the equipment held within it could easily cost more money than I would ever come across in my life time, tokens or otherwise.

“Where did I end up?”

“Your last body was found along the eastern freeway, about two miles from here.” It was beaten up pretty bad, some gang banger had put a .44 round in the back of your skull.”

Last body? My train of thought was racing. This was surely the extent of whatever my speed heal had been swapped out with, the far-fetched illusions of some Blue Glass or other new hallucinogen. I swear to God, when I find Mitch I’m gonna beat the ever living fuck out of him. The pristine condition and feeling of my new situation did little to temper my lust for vengeance, had this all been more than a powerful trip.

“We just need to perform some final checks, and then you should be free to go again,” the doctor continued “and please, try to keep this one better for a little bit longer, this is the fifth one we’ve had to replace or repair this year”.

The direct and sarcastic tone of the otherwise uniform individual was some kind of breath of fresh air, yet was not nearly enough to curb the full extent of what was really going on. My mind was completely full of doubts and a nagging want for it all to be over, and yet there was something edging me on to just go with it. I took one final look around the room before laying back into the chair, somewhat doubtful that I would still be enduring this fever dream come the end of their checks. It was small really, roughly the size of my apartment, yet furnished with the most lavish electronics I had ever seen. These machines and trays of parts put the wares of my regular ripperdoc to shame, a fact I was less comfortable with than I perhaps should have been.

“Booting in 3, 2, 1…”

As if bracing for another bout of psychoactive hell, I looked blankly into the clinical light staring down at me, and tightly clenched the arms of my chair with an unfamiliar sense of strength. As if a screen had been powered off, my vision faded to black, and a string of incomprehensible numbers rolled across the backdrop, too quick to even grasp the meaning. Within seconds the vision of the operating room had returned, and the restraints of my chair were lifted. I was free to go.

Upon exiting the room, I was led by another one of the doctors down a flight of stairs and straight out through a set of double doors, both of which were as well maintained and clinically pristine as the previous room. This doctor was far less talkative than the previous, a fact I can not say I was displeased with. The brief time I was allowed for contemplation didn’t do much to let me fathom my current situation, yet one thing I could establish for certain: This was a turning point. As I approached the last series of double doors of the complex, familiar sounds of cars rushing by and pedestrians hurrying about their daily life filled my ears. Once I stepped out of here, wherever I found myself, there was no going back.

I stepped out of the complex, greeted a hasty farewell to the doctor and took a breath of the freshest air I had smelt in a very long time. This was no longer Pacifica, but almost certainly Westbrook, evidenced by the air of superiority surrounding every citizen, and backed up by the cars that they drove. Parked neatly on the crosswalk outside the clinic, was by far the most lavish car I had ever seen. At least 3 and a half metres in length, the purple behemoth stood as an icon for wealth superseding taste in certain parts of night city. Decorated with gold accents across the body and wheels, the reflection tinted windows gave me the first insight into what I had become. An entirely human-looking face stared back at me, sat upon a chilled jawline and thick set neck. There was no bionic enhancement in sight, spare the giveaway of dead, grey eyes constantly moving with mechanical precision. This was a cybernetic body in full, and an expensive one at that. Looking back over my shoulder to assess the reasonable suspicion that a wealthy, suit clad man checking themselves out in the mirror of their luxury car could arise, I casually squatted down into the plus leather seats and placed my hands on the steering wheel.

Rushing through the densely populated Westbrook suburbs, the elite of Night City rushed by in a blur. The run-down houses that I was used to had been replaced with bespoke neon-clad mansions, dotted between exotic ripperdoc stores which you would never catch using that name, and luxury clothing brands attempting to cling to nostalgia and vintage aesthetics to become relevant. I had navigated the car’s GPS to take me home, yet I was sincerely doubtful that this would be the home I was used to. Cascading through this superficial town made me uncomfortable, and I was glad to reach stable ground once the I arrived.

This mansion was unlike anything I had ever seen. Devoid of any tacky neon or bright lights, the Structure stood at least 30 stories tall and was entirely painted in white concrete, with evenly spaced giant windows decorating the block of evident wealth. The building and its architecture were reminiscent of what I had always imagined my family residence to have been like, so unapologetic in its price tag that you couldn’t help but stop and admire it. Strolling as casually as I possibly could into the main foyer, I had to stop myself from staring in awe at the perfectly polished marble floors stretching out for metres to join up with white walls decorated similarly to the car with gold accents. Beset in the middle of the ground floor was a giant magnetic elevator, almost the size of my entire house back in Pacifica. I allowed my eyes to wander up the list of floors, each button encrusted with diamonds and other jewels, all the way up to the 30th floor. At this point, I did not care what I would find in the penthouse suite, eagerly anticipating what incredible sight I would be greeted with when I arrived.

There was no such sight to be found. Sitting alone in this giant, open plan space, was a single chair occupied by an unconscious man, old and frail in stature, wrinkles forming a permanent look of apology and sadness across his face. A single light shone onto his unresponsive body, which lay slumped face down on a glass table, beset on either side by an old revolver, and a pouch of electric blue powder. The reality of the situation was all too real, and my comparably youthful frame hit the marble with the crunch of a displeased tailored suit. This, I could only assume, was Aaron. The real Aaron, not the fake one staring on at him with a pitted expression and tears in his eyes. The blue powder was haphazardly strewn around the table, only occasionally being thrown around by the slow and steady breathing of its consumer. Here I was, revelling in at the prospect of a new life being given to me completely by chance, yet at the cost of the enjoyment of someone who arguably deserved it a lot more. The emotional turmoil was something I had not felt in recent memory, all the guilt and regret I had reflected perfectly in the husk of an old man trying desperately to escape his own looming problems. I regained my stance, and wandered slowly over to the unconscious frame, struggling to hold my own composure and fighting with every aspect of my mind for the right thing to do in this situation. That was a lie, I was completely aware of the right thing to do, and had been acutely so ever since I woke up in the surgery. I reached over to the revolver, pointed it at my head and waited for the right moment to take myself out of the equation, and restore to this man what is rightfully his. My entire life flashed before me as I stared up into the light from the singer window, before tracing it back down to the sparse, silver hairs that only ever so slightly moved with the rising and falling of his breath. This would take me out, bring me back to my reality and give this man another chance to escape his. This could be the one good deed that I perform during my life, if I could only bring myself to do it.

“Fuck it.” I thought. This is Night City. You only get two chances in this city if you’re lucky, and yours has run out my friend. It’s time for me to get my dosage. I moved the gun away from my head, removed my jacket and placed it over the barrel as a makeshift silencer, pointed it at the head of Aaron , and relieved both of us from our anguish.

This may not be something I am able to live with, but I am sure going to give it my best shot.
 
Night City, the place where hopes and dreams are broken and innocence is lost. That's what my dad used to tell me. My family owned a little shack overlooking the city, The bright flashy lights emanating from the towering skyscrapers always seemed to enchant me. It was a place I needed to go, an objective I wanted to achieve. I had heard many stories about the exploits of the city. Legends like Johnny Silverhand and Morgan Blackhand used to inhabit the place. What wonders awaited me in this luscious microcosm of crime and luxury. Most people would think of my old man's words as a warning, not me.

I took it as a challenge.

Being a Nomad, I knew of the perils life throws at people; I had done many things up to this point: tussled with caravans of raiders and jacked unexpecting convoys. I knew that Night city was going to be difficult but I had no idea how bad it would really get. I decided to leave first thing in the morning, I got into my Quadra 66 rode off towards the city. First I got to the border.

Those fucking border guards. Checked through my shit and confiscated some of my firearms. They had this noxious sense of superiority. It seriously irked me, but I knew what I had to do to enter the city. The prize was this close, I knew I couldn't stop there. After they finally finished their invasive search, they let me through.
Though I was a few pistols short, I was moving closer to my goal and that was all that mattered. The district which I was entering Night city from was Pacifica; a miserable place. The Voodoo Boys and The Animals occupied this area, I had only heard stories about them. But from what I have heard they are people I definitely wouldn't want to fuck with.

Pacifica was supposed to be a paradise, the ideal image of a cyber utopia, but the rotten nature of the city overwhelmed the naïve nature of the planners. The dilapidated ruins of hotels and casinos showed the areas former glory, one that didn't last long. Most of the high rise buildings were probably being used as gang hideouts. As I drove across the stretches of cracked asphalt I would sometimes hear the distant sounds of gunfire and came across the occasional corpse.

Driving through the settlements I saw poor people in tents. Something I didn't expect from Night city. I guess there are people struggling through life everywhere. They wore rags made from synthetic leather. Most of them gathered around dumpster fires. While this wasn't the ideal place, it sure beat the boring slog that was living out in the Badlands.

I had a contact in Pacifica who I needed to meet, he hung out in the markets. He was a Ripperdoc; was connected to a gang that I needed to meet with: The Maelstrom. I was supposed to look for a man wearing a golden brown Cowboy hat and a long black trench coat. The most striking thing about him would have been his metallic jaw. His name was Tobias, he was a mid range solo working out of Pacifica; an associate of mine told me to meet with him. He also added that he had a few screws loose, so I was gonna make sure to be cautious around him. I wasn't gonna lose my life to some wack job.

The market was a bustling area. It was packed full of different people. There was a thick cloud of smoke floating above the vendors who were selling a wide variety of wares. As I searched through the crowd I hear some people muttering about different things, with most of them talking about an individual taking out a group of Animals who had set up shop in the Grand Imperial Mall.

There he is.

I spotted him out of the corner of my eye leaning against a wall. I pushed through the groups of people, I got a few dirty looks and had to shake off a couple of persistent vendors; but it didn't take time for me to reach him.

This is the man who would take me to where I want to be.
"Are you Tobias?"

He looked old beyond his years, his forehead was lined with layers of wrinkles folding on top of each other.

He looked at me, eye brows furled, "Who're you?".

"Look, I was told by Jimmy to meet you here. I need to find the Maelstrom and as far as I know you are the guy who can get me to them".

A smile slowly appeared across his face, "You really want to meet them don't ya?". There was a tinge of giddiness in his voice. He put his face uncomfortably close to mine. The smell of his breath crept through my nostrils. His eyes scanned up and down my body like he was judging every nook and cranny on it.

I was getting extremely impatient up to this point and shoved him back. "Yknow what, that's enough!", I replied within a fit of rage. Some people within the market turned around in shock. Realizing that, I collected myself. "Look, I don't have the time to be messing around, I am here on urgent business", I replied in a much more calm manner, "So can you please take me to them".

Tobias nodded his head and straightened his overcoat. "Come with me".

He abruptly turned around and directed me to follow him down an alleyway. "Let me warn you about somethings, the boys you are about to meet are quite a bunch of violent maniacs". He looked back at me and cracked a smile; one that made me uneasy. "You ain't the first one that has come to me looking for them, more people are comin"

"Wait I thought I would be the only one meeting them", I replied with a tinge of nervousness in my voice, "I don't feel good bout this".

"There ain't anything good about dealing with the Maelstrom boy".

After a while of walking through the endless maze of decrepit alleyways we reached a small opening.

"Wait what's this pla-"

Someone put a black hood over my head and pushed me to the ground. The person had his foot against my head and soon enough I was eating the dirt.

"Put him in the van with the others, he wants to meets with boys"

"Another one? I thought they would have learned their lesson after whats happened to all the others"

The man picked me up, had some cuffs put around my wrists and threw me into the back of a van. I moved around for a bit confused and panicked before I calmed down and tried to get ahold of the predicament I had gotten myself into. I could feel the presence of two other people, probably the ones the man was talking to Tobias about. I calmed myself down and propped my body up again the side of the van, the cold interior brushed against the back of my neck. I tried struggling with the cuffs before I realised they were blocking any electrical input in my body.

I needed to get out of there ASAP. I didn't know where I was going or what was going to happen to me after we were to arrive at my destination. I tried my hardest to pull of the cuffs moving around the area trying to see if I could find my way to the door. It all seemed futile but I had to find a way out of here.

"What are you doing back there"

A voice called out from the front of the van, probably from the driver. I suddenly felt a jolt of electricity coarse through my body.

"Ah, fuck!"

"You like that, stop moving around! I don't wanna see any more funny shit until we arrive you hear me"

After that I heard nothing except for a few annoyed murmurs coming out of the front. I had given up at that point. I was better off seeing where we were going instead of being pointlessly maimed by the murderous maniacs probably driving the van.

Suddenly, after an abrupt turn the Van stopped and I heard the sound of the 2 front doors opening.

But there was something wrong.

We weren't the only ones there.

I could make out the sound of 2 other engines outside of the Van. Before I could figure what was happening I heard the door open, 2 hands grabbed me by collar and threw me out of the van. My body hit the ground with a loud thud before one of the drivers stood me up and removed the hood from my head.

We were underneath an underpass. On both my sides stood the 2 other people who were inside the car with me. One had mantis blades which were malfunctioning. Probably from the cuffs fucking up the connection. He had a muscular frame, mohawk and was wearing a black biker jacket with spikes on the shoulders, most likely one of those rocker boys. The other one was quite scrawny, he had glasses on and had on of his arms completely chromed out.

In front of me were 2 people, both were most likely members of the Maelstrom.

These were the people I needed to talk to.

The Rockerboy looked agitated and was struggling with his cuffs, while the scawnier guy looked terrified. The 2 men infront of us started walking towards us.

"Hey, what the fuck are you tryna pu-"

Bang

The Rockerboy fell to the ground as a crimson pool appeared around his head. I shouldn't try and step out of line in this situation. The man who shot him had a smile on his face. He had a red eye optical mod so I couldn't tell what he was feeling from his eyes. But his body language showed that he was impatient.

"C'mon Royce, you didn't need to do that."

"No one fucks with me around my turf, if he didn't speak up, maybe I wouldn't have pumped lead in that motherfuckers head!"

Okay so the mans name was Royce, that was important. The only other piece of information I had on him was the fact that he was fucking psychopath.

"Now what do the rest of you want"

Royce walked up to scrawny guy who was shaking at this point. He aimed the gun at his head and motioned towards him to talk.

"So what do you need huh, make sure to speak up. You don't wanna end up like the other guy do you?"

"S-so I n-need t-t-"

Bang

"I need someone who can actually talk, not some bumbling dickhead!"

"Royce, you gotta stop killing them, we can't do business when the fucking customers are dead!"


"Okay, lets hope this final guy has something to say"
Royce strolled on over to me as if he hadn't just killed 2 people and pressed the gun against the side of my head.

"Now talk"

"Look I want to get somewhere in the city and I need your help to get me there. Y'know Jimmy, he told me that you guys can help."

Royce looked confused.

"Did you expect us to do something for you just because you told me that bastards name? Thats now how business works you sly little fuckwit"

"Look I have compensation okay! 50k credits, I heard that's a good amount here."

"Why don't you look at that. Where did a dirty ass rat like you get 50 fucking thousand credits from?"

"I have my methods"

"Where is it?"

I motioned towards my back pocket which Royce snatched the chip out of.

I guess robbing convoys really does pay off.

"Hey Dum Dum scan this shit. I don't want what happened last time to happen again, fucking Corpos-"

Royce handed it over to Dum Dum who plugged it into a jack at the back of his head. He stood there scanning the chip before giving Royce the go.

"Ok so what do you want"

Finally, I can get to my goal now. It was almost within reach.

"I want you to get me into this place called The Afterlife"

Royce cracked a smile, one of curiosity.

"What would someone like you want to do there"

"I got people I have to meet"

Royce removed the gun from my head and I relaxed a bit. He motioned towards me to follow him. I didn't know what to think of him. I couldn't read him at all. Maybe he would pop me in the head maybe he'll actually help me out.

"I can get you into the place but you are on your own after that. You understand what I am saying? You pull anything and you are fucking dead"

Royce turned around and smiled.

"Dum Dum bag him"

"What wha-"

Once again I had a fucking bag over my head and was tossed into the back of another van. I heard the voice of Royce speaking from the other side.

"Sorry for the- rough precautions, but you gotta do what gotta do right?"

After a while of driving and me struggling in the back of the car, we finally arrived at our location. The doors and my hood was lifted. I was greeted by a familiar face.

"Jimmy, that you?"

"Guess who it is, Little Mateo; good to see you, brother"

"Likewise; was really hoping to see you under better circumstances"

"What do you mea-"

I planted my fist right on the bridge of his nose which caught him off guard. He took a few steps back with hand over his nose, clearly in pain.

"Ok- look- I deserved that", Jimmy still hadn't recovered from my punch so his voice still had a tinge of surprise and pain. He looked back up and wiped his nose with a handkerchief he had in his pocket. I was very flustered at that moment, he had made go through all this to get to the one place I wanted to be.

"What the fuck Jimmy. I didn't know the Maelstrom were a bunch of fucking cyberized kooks. Shit I could've fucking died and this would have all been for nothing."

Jimmy straightened himself up and went back to his usual careless demeanor. "But look my brother. We are here are we not? The Afterlife awaits us and thanks to my street skills I know the people to get us in there"

I decided to collect my self and looked up at Jimmy who was now walking into the Afterlife. Maybe I could forgive him for putting me into this mess if I can finally achieve my goal. It was within arms reach now. I was in the final stretch and couldn't stop myself from feeling a tingling sense of excitement.

Wait-

I almost forgot to tell you why I went into Night city in the first place. It would be useless to tell this story if you guys had no idea why I was doing what I was doing.

Well I came to Night city because of one reason.

To cement my legacy. Being out in the Badlands I always had a view of this city. It was always teasing me with its tall tales and vast exploits. I was tired of my tiny insignificant life out there. I needed to make a name for myself, I wasn't gonna die some unknown rat; I was gonna become a legend. The Afterlife was the place where my journey would finally start.

I followed Jimmy through the corridor leading into the entrance of the Afterlife. In front of us was a bouncer. He was around 6'5 and had a muscular frame. He looked at us with a suspicious look. Jimmy stood in front of me and handed the bouncer a chip with a sly smile. The bouncer then plugged it into a socket in the back of his head.

After a minute of scanning he looked at us and nodded, opening the door to the Afterlife. Both of us had this feeling of excitement creeping down or bodies as we walked through the doors into the destination that would lead us to a new, more exciting life.

Ambient lighting gave the club a mysterious shrouded feel as we walked through the bar like area. The club was filled with different fixers and gang members I had only heard stories about. There were Tygerclaws and Moxes. I even saw Dexter Deshaun sitting in the corner, though he didn't give me the most welcoming look. I felt like a kid meeting my heroes. We decided to head to the bar.


Jimmy looked at me with a smile, "this is a momentous occasion for you so drinks are on me". He waved towards the bartender who walked towards us. She looked interested in us like it was a rare thing to see newbies within a place like this.
"You guys are new here eh"

It was a women with messy hair and who was wearing shabby clothes. "What do you boys want", she spoke with a surprisingly friendly demeanor, "Our main special today are our famous Morgan Blackhand cocktails".

"Blackhand huh", the name of the drink piqued my interest.

"We name all of our drinks after famous solos in the city"


" Lemme get so-"
Jimmy interrupted me as I ordered, "Why don't you get us both a pair of Johnny Silverhands".

"Good choice, two Johnny Silverhands coming right up".

After waiting for a bit the bartender she came back with our drinks.

The bartender leaned in towards us with a look of interest, "So what brings you boys here to the Afterlife". Jimmy's face lit up like as he realized that this was his chance to gloat.

"We are looking to make our names out here, leave a legacy, you know what I mean?"

"Yeah I getcha, many people come here looking for glory, most people succeed", she said this with a smile on her face, one that would probably light up the room, "You two remind me of some newbies who came here a while back, they are making big moves within the city".

Even though we had gotten to the bar I knew that it was only the beggining of journey within this city of dreams. We had to get into contact with a fixer, maybe the bartender had some knowledge of them.

"We are looking for a good fixer to find us a job that pays well, you have any idea of people we can talk to?"


"I definitely wouldn't advise going for higher level fixers at this moment but, you see that women over there", she motioned towards a heavily augmented women in the center of the bar having a cocktail, "she works with the Mox as a fixer, she'll hook you up with a good contract."
Jimmy stood up and walked on over to the women. He sat across from her and began talking to her. I couldn't hear what they were talking about as I was sitting far away but it seemed to be going well. Though, Jimmy did seem over confident.

After a while of talking Jimmy stood up and sat down next to me. He gave me a thumbs up and filled me in on what they talked about.

"I got us a job". I could sense the excitement in Jimmy's voice.

"Oh shit, your serious right, we actually got a job!"

"This ain't a joke Mateo, I got us into a job", Jimmy had his typical sly look on his face as he laid out the contract, "we have to take out someone, its pretty low level work".

"This is the perfect chance, did she give any information on the guy?"

"Not much, just that he is low level along with this tracking chip", Jimmy showed me a chip and jacked it into his phone which showed him the location of the target, "the target is down in a sub district call Kabuki, not so far away".

"By the way, where even are we, before coming here I thought I was still out in Pacifica"

"Well welcome to Watson, this place used to be filled with corporate giants, now it is filled with immigrants like us"

"We got now time to waste now, gotta find this guy right?"

With that we left the Afterlife to hunt for our target. The area we needed to go to was Kabuki in Watson. Watson was an interesting place, an area which was best described as a cultural hub filled with twisting mazes of alleyways. Kabuki was a sub district within Watson which was primarily inhabited by Japanese people, it was also the location of our target.

He was currently hiding out in a hotel. From the info given to us we knew that he normally left in the afternoon to an unknown location. That was when we were going to strike. Once we arrived in the Kabuki area with hid out next to the hotel in an alley. I had armed myself with a cheap pistol I got at the local 2nd Ammendment. We staked out the area and got into our positions on each side of the hotel.

We had covered every angle.

We were to follow him to his location and take him out there. If he got too far or he got suspicious we would lure him into a place away from the crowds and take him out. It was a flawless plan, one that I was quite frankly proud of.

After a while of waiting, the tracker showed that he had left the building. We left out of the right side and went into the alley. I was situated in a connecting alley on the left side while Jimmy stood adjacent to the alley the man had gone down.

Perfect.

We had both paths covered. We didn't get a good look at the guy but from what I saw he was middle aged and was wearing a neat midnight blue suit, one that a Corpo would wear. Jimmy followed behind him while I intersected his path through the adjacent alleyway.

Things were all going according to plan, but there was just one thing I couldn't shake. Why was he going down this alleyway? It only leads into an open area. The thought laid there in the back of my mind, but I ignored it. As we got to the area, we noticed something strange.

As he got into the alley he stopped completely. We both still ignored it and continued to advance towards him. As we both arrived at the opening through the 2 different paths the man turned around calmly and looked at Jimmy with a smile.

Suddenly lights appeared behind the man.

They were people, all of them armed with guns.

"Shit! Mateo run for cover!", Jimmy shouted that out as they opened fire on both of us. Jimmy ran towards me as I hid behind a dumpster.

He got hit by some bullets in his chest and legs. His body fell to the ground near the dumpster. I managed to drag his body behind the dumpster. He was badly injured and couldn't move.
"Fuck! We can't go out like Jimmy",

A hail of bullets flew past over us as I spoke to Jimmy who was bleeding out.

"You won't go out like this, but I can. I can’t move half of my body, I am fucked man."

"Don't speak like that I'll find a way out"

I knew I was just deluding myself.

"You fucking idiot look, I have a strap of explosives hidden in my jacket. If I can get into the dumpster and you can roll me towards them, those bitches are done. It doesn't matter if I die, at least I will go out with a bang, right?".

He gave a little chuckle.

I knew I had to do it.

"Man look, both of us are going to die if you don't man up and let me go", Jimmy looked at me and smiled like he had accepted his fate, "I care for you, you're my brother, and as your brother I am telling you to let go".

I stood up and flipped open the dumpster lid, I looked down at Jimmy who gave my a nod.

I picked him up and put him in the dumpster. Before I pushed him I said my last good bye and shoved the dumpster towards the source of the gun fire.

I ran away as quick as I could trying to avoid the bullets flying past my body. I got hit a couple times, but the adrenaline kept me going. Soon enough I heard the explosion, even though I had almost gone out of the alleyway my body was still blasted back. I landed a few feet away from where I had been hit by the explosion. As I looked at what happened I saw that the entire area had been destroyed.

I grabbed my phone and checked the tracker. The target had been killed by the explosion. I ran out of the area as soon as I saw the NCPD roll in. Thankfully they didn't suspect me of causing the explosion and thought of me as a bystander who was spooked off by the explosion.

The first thing I did after leaving the area was going back to the Afterlife and finding the woman we had gotten the contract from.


As I walked into the Afterlife, I saw that she had been waiting in the same place. I walked up to her and slammed my fist down on the table. "What type of suicide mission did you send us into!", I wanted to shoot her in the face but I held back, "he died because of you, you better have a good answer or I will load a bunch of lead into your face".

The woman looked amused. "Look, I am sorry for the loss of your friend, but he knew what he was getting himself into", she replied calmly, "a person needs to earn his place in the Afterlife. He clearly didn't fit the bill; but you passed the test and I commend you for that"

"What are you talking about"

"The target that you were both going after, he was a higher up in one of the last Yakuza families still inhabiting this area"

"D-did he know anything about this"

"Yes, he did, he didn't tell you. Makes sense; any person within their right mind wouldn't go after him. But he was a nuisance to the community, and you taking him out has given you a ton of street cred"

"The little things aren't important right now, the only thing you really need to know is that you’re part of the big leagues now, congrats"

It took a while for the adrenaline to wear off and for me to come to the realization that I had earned my place in the Afterlife, which was my objective from the very beginning.

While there was a sense of accomplishment, I realized I had sacrificed someone very close to me to get to where I am. There was no point in sulking in all my mistakes. That was what Jimmy would have wanted me to do.

Even though I had reached the Afterlife and gotten into the big leagues faster than most of the mercs in the city. I knew that my journey wasn't going to end there, I still had a legacy to create; I needed to honor Jimmy and become a legend within this city of dreams.

That leads me to now.

I am still chasing this dream, no matter how hard it may seem or how bad life may get I move forward and push through. I have overcome everything life has thrown at me up until now. Night city is a place where dreams get destroyed and innocence is lost. I haven't overcome life because I took this as a warning.

No.

I overcame everything because I took it as a challenge.
 
Mecha-Clad: Uprising​

“I always thought that I would be able to face the ugliest truth over living with the most beautiful lie... Turns out that what is true and a lie can be very blurry”. Takashi Notomada.

Doctor Takashi Notomada is a sophisticated scientist who developed the Mecha-Clad division at Arasaka. The success of Arasaka’s Black Clad led the company to consider another tier for its security division. The board wanted a project that would make the security division a force to be reckoned with. A force that does not wear out, can be multiplied without human losses, and that its moral code can be easily customized.

The idea began when Arasaka’s board realized that no matter how wide the company’s dominance is, there will be many areas where it can’t control. So, the company needed a lot more manpower to widen its reign. Training more people in its security division was far from Arasaka’s complete dominance vision. This made the company initiate a project of machine-based troops. Many specialists were involved in this project with a group of scientists who had all the bells and whistles for Arasaka’s initiative. Doctor Takashi was one of the scientists in this group. He is a devoted scientist in the field of robotics. The group later gave Arasaka’s project a new name... Mecha-Clad.

The initiative looked very promising. However, things began to slow down until Arasaka had almost given up hope on making any progress with its project. The main problem was the conflict of codes among the prototypes of Mechas as they were controlled by different people. And the extreme simulations that were created for these Mechas were so morally demanding for those who command the Mechas that made them make different decisions. And the board did not like that one bit. The point was to create a unified decision-making policy that matches the company’s goals. So, Takashi came up with the idea of creating a device that connects to the mind of a single person and controls all the Mechas in order to efficiently fulfill the unified decision-making policy. The board liked the idea, especially after Takashi presented a small-scale simulation with his mind control device that proved to be effective in overcoming the obstacles of having multiple decisions with different outcomes.

The board assigned Takashi to lead the project and the board were so excited that they provided him with all the needed resources and authorities. Takashi worked tirelessly on the project in developing the moral codes of the Mechas to much higher standards. Like simplifying the moral codes and creating chips for each designed mission in order to make the decision-making process easier. But in the process, he neglected his family. Forgetting his kids’ birthday, wedding anniversary, and all the things that strengthen the bond with his family. He tried to explain what he is doing and how promising it is, but it did not always work to convince his family. Takashi continued his work and things were really promising. But all of a sudden, the board gradually noticed that they might have done something wrong. To put the control of the Mechas in the hands of a single person seemed like too much power, especially that Takashi will be that person who controls the Mechas in the division’s launch phase as per the given authorities. And even if the board removed his authorities, they are not quite sure to put all of these powerful Mechas in the hands of a single person, especially with the non-existence of any sort of fail-safe measures because this was the point Takashi has made which is not to include any procedure but a single mind to achieve the highest success of the unified decision-making policy.

With only a few weeks left until the launch phase, Takashi realized how much he neglected his family. So, he tried to fix that situation. Things began to get better with them. One day, Takashi walked into his lab and found it empty. Literally empty. There was nothing left. He then looked from the lab’s window at the assembly line of the Mechas and found it completely dark. Takashi contacted one of his fellow scientists and gave him the shocker... that the board decided to pull the plug on the Mecha-Clad project and disassemble all of what was produced and relocate them to another project. It was like the world stopped moving for Takashi. With everything that was going so well. He did not see this coming at all. About 2 million Mechas were produced. Made of a mixture between pure tungsten and titanium and included devastating firepower. They were all moved to the disassembly factory to begin the process in one week. Takashi returned to his home and told his family of what happened. They tried to comfort him in a special way. The kids brought all their toys to him as a way to make up for the lost Mechas. His wife, Aika, tried to comfort him that more projects will come. And Takashi finally started to get a little bit better.

The next day, a letter was sent to Takashi that the company is no longer in need of his services. And despite that it was bad news, he simply did not care. In fact, he was kind of happy that this had happened. He needed some time off with his family and then looked for a plan to start independent research and projects. It seemed that he started to accept what happened... but not for long.

After three months, Arasaka announced personal assistant bots for individual use. Takashi could not believe it. When he saw the commercial ad, he noticed that Arasaka is using, among other things, the same idea of chips and mind control for their new bots. The bots even have the same design of the Mechas, which Takashi made a lot of revisions to them. He became so confused and curious about what Arasaka is planning. So, he went to the board's office to get some explanations. However, the board refused to meet him and asked the security to escort him outside of the building. While he was going outside, he managed to slip from the guards’ attention and went straight to his old lab. Lucky for him the security protocols were not changed, so he was able to avoid triggering any alarms and entered the lab. And it was a familiar scene to him. Another group of scientists working on the project of PAB, personal assistant bots, which he saw its commercial ad recently. He went to the office of the leading scientist to get more information on the project. He quickly looked at the project schematics and they looked almost identical to the Mecha-Clad project. Except that the lethal protocols and equipment were removed from the altered Mechas. Takashi got even more curious. What is Arasaka really planning to do? Unfortunately, he was caught by the same security guards who were escorting him outside of the building. It seems that the company implemented new security protocols that Takashi was unaware of.

When the board knew about the incident, they asked the security guards to send Takashi to their office. They just wanted to give Takashi a grave warning and advised him to mind his own business. Upon going outside of the office, he deliberately stumbled on a plant and left a recording device that he was always carrying it with him. After returning to his home, he quickly accessed the planted recording device from his supercomputer, one of the perks of once leading a highly important project of the Mecha-Clad. He activated the recording device and waited until he hears something that may provide any explanations of what is going on. After two weeks, he overheard a board meeting discussing their new project of PAB. He understood the ultimate objective of PAB. To create a spying network that uses the produced PABs to provide a live feed to Arasaka's dedicated servers. Takash imagined how such a project would have possibly invaded his home… his family. Aika was standing by and noticed how troubled he is. She tried to comfort him and to know what the problem is. He then told her that he always thought that he would be able to face the ugliest truth over living with the most beautiful lie... Turns out that what is true and a lie can be very blurry. And then he explained everything to her. Takashi realised the grave mistake he made. He was living in the most beautiful lie ever since he started working on the Mecha-Clad project and believing that he was working for a good cause. And the more he lived in that lie the more the truth got uglier. He decided that he needs to do something about… for the sake of his family… for the sake of all the possible victims of Arasaka's complete dominance plan… the plan that was based on his work.

Takashi has very little time. The PAB project is about to launch in 12 weeks. And he is supposed to infiltrate the nearly impossible security measures of Arasaka and sabotage the PAB project. He realized that this is too much for a scientist to handle alone. He had no choice but to go to those who had bad history with Arasaka. Being a former Arasaka employee himself, while working on a controversial project, would not make him a welcoming sight. So, he asked one of his loyal acquaintances to secretly provide him with a list of black listed Arasaka's employees. Accessing black listed contacts required a pretty good cover in order to not seem suspicious. After finally getting the list and spending some time filtering them, he finally reached a possible candidate… which is V. Her skills were quite impressive, but most importantly her hatred towards Arasaka was the most distinguishing quality. It took Takashi significant effort to track her down. After locating her place, he decided to send her his request to infiltrate Arasaka and sabotage the PAB project. And the request was followed by a generous reward. Half of it will be delivered before the operation and the second after successfully sabotaging PAB. The message took V by surprise. She was suspicious at first. So, she requested to meet in person. Takashi was concerned that he might be tailed by Arasaka, but he made sure to properly lose any tail in case it exists. After finally meeting with V in a dark alley, he further explained his personal reasons behind his plan. Both shared the personal hatred towards Arasaka. Takashi admitted that it is almost like a suicide mission. However, V could not miss the opportunity of getting a hefty reward of 10 million Eddies and getting some payback. Takashi also offered her some nice gadgets and that she can keep whatever tech she would find interesting. Both parted ways in order to prepare for the operation that will begin in just 2 weeks.

Upon returning home, Takashi found no one. There was just a note left on the dining table with a device wrapped with it… it was the recording device that he planted at the board's office and the note said that "you should have minded your own business. Be at the tower in 48 hours". Takashi fell on the ground. His family was kidnapped. And no one knows what else Arasaka may have discovered. He did not know what to do. Everything seemed risky. And waiting 2 weeks until the beginning of the operation was too much. So, he sent an encrypted message to V with the latest updates plus sending her the other half of the reward and promising that the double of the whole amount will be paid again through an autonomous payment that will be authorized from Aika after freeing his family and sabotaging PAB, which is almost the whole fortune of Takashi. Takashi made sure that his house lab contents along with the supercomputer are shipped to an abandoned workshop that he had previously bought. To avoid any possible tracking from Arasaka, he used a forged identity that he made before meeting with V. Takashi is now preparing to go for a ride that is most likely his last.

After 48 hours, Takashi went to meet Arasaka's board. And V was stepping things up to begin the operation as soon as possible. Once Takashi entered Arasaka's tower he was immediately apprehended and brought to the board. The board wanted to know everything Takashi knew about PAB or any other projects. But he did not answer anything until he sees his family. The board eventually agreed to let him check up on his family. He entered an isolated room located near the security division and entered to see his family. It was like having a cup of water after a long walk in the heated sun. Seeing his family satisfied his thirst even just for a moment. When he hugged Aika he attached a small hair clip to her head. He was then pulled immediately by the security guards and escorted back to the board. Aika noticed the new hair clip and sensed that it was important, so she firmly placed it in her hair hoping for the best.

On the other side, V was struggling to make such an operation that was planned to begin in two weeks to initiate it in a matter of a few days, especially that the entry opportunity is now changed. Takashi had an alternate point of entry in case things went south. There is a planned event for the public to see a live presentation of the PAB project. V had a forged identity and a ticket to attend the event. The problem with this plan is that the location of the event is far from the PAB division. The event will begin in two days, which makes the timeline of the operation fall to just 4 days. While V was making her final preparations, she noticed a beeping from a tracking device that Takashi had given her. The beeping source is from the isolated room where the family of Takashi is held. Emitted from the hair clip that Takashi gave to Aika. He himself already had transparent smart contact lenses that transmitted his location and live feed to V.

Today is the day, V is all glamoured up and ready to join the party. Upon reaching Arasaka's tower, Takashi was being held in another isolated room near his family. The board was too busy to deal with him, so they locked him for now until the event is finished. V entered the event hall and tried to look for any breaking opportunity. The hall was so crowded and confusing. But V managed to slip through the security measures and managed to enter the part of the tower where the security division is located. The party will go on for some time and the board is happy with the public engagement with the PAB project. The future looks even brighter for the company. Meanwhile, Takashi is sitting in the room praying for the plan to work. There is no telling what will happen once the board finishes the event and goes back to deal with Takashi and his family.

V finally reached the security division floor, but she still needs to deal with the tighter security protocols. Nonetheless, she managed to get so close to the family's room, but a patrol showed up and she had to quickly descend to a lower floor that looked like it was abandoned. She kept sneaking away from the patrol until she noticed a complete silence with no one else on the floor. The place was so dark and looked empty. Using her sonar implant and Takashi's visualization device of the tower she found a ventilation tunnel that leads to the room where Takashi's family is being held. But she was noticing something else. Something that her sonar is detecting while not showing up on Takashi’s device. She kept getting closer and she still cannot believe what she is seeing through her sonar. It seems like hundreds of robots are stacked in a room. She then noticed a sign over that section of the room titled “obsolete projects”. And that room where many robots are stashed in has a sign called “Mecha-Clad”. V decided that this can wait for now. She quickly went through the ventilation tunnel and up to the room where Takashi’s family is located. Once V made her way inside the room, she explained that she is working with Takashi to get them out. But they insisted on finding Takashi first. V could not persuade them and time is of the essence. V looked at the visualization device and found that Takashi’s room is very close. But the ventilation access is only possible from the upper floor. So, direct encounter was the only solution. Takashi had given V a long range EMP device that can fry cameras, weapons, alarm systems etc… V first asked Aika to knock on the door for the guard to open it. Once the guard opened the door and stepped in V immediately knocked him over. She quickly took down another two guards outside the room and quickly activated the EMP device before the cameras would caught her. The blast almost fried the whole floor. V rushed through the floor eliminating any remaining guards. After clearing the floor she signaled the family to come over. Once in front of Takashi’s room, V took the keycard of one of the guards and opened the door. Takashi was shocked as he was not counting on getting himself out. He was just hoping that V would manage to get his family to safety. Takashi was reunited again with his family. But they still have to get out of the tower safely.

Upon going on their way to escape, V told Takashi about what she saw in the lower level. Takashi could not believe it. So, he asked V to get his family to the abandoned workshop where he stashed his belongings. He hugged Aika and the children one more time and parted ways. Takashi went to the lower level and straight to the obsolete projects section. He already knows this part of the division, but he never imagined that the board would leave some of the Mechas there. But he did find them. He bypassed the door’s lock and turned on the lights. And he simply froze in place. Hundreds of fully built Mechas were aligned in that room. Ready for field operations. All they need is just a command. Takashi looked all over the room for the mind control device, but could not find it. So, he hot-wired one of the Mechas and reprogrammed it to use its autonomous system instead and to directly follow his commands. And it worked. So, he repeated the same process to another Mecha. And ordered them to follow and protect him at all costs. Takashi planned to go to the PAB section, formerly known as the Mecha-Clad, to sabotage the project. The Mechas literally swiped through the guards and all the security systems. Nothing was capable of stopping or even detecting them. Takashi managed to reach the PAB section and quickly opened the mainframe computer. He bypassed the security measures and accessed the schematics of the PAB. He then altered the codes implemented in their chips to self-destruct. The PABs immediately started to behave erratically and ultimately their systems were fried. The event went into chaos and people were running everywhere, while the security guards were desperately trying to maintain the situation and the board members were evacuated outside Arasaka’s tower until the situation gets under control. Takashi then accessed the obsolete projects from the mainframe computer and selected the Mecha-Clad project. He then altered the coding system of all of the remaining 500 Mechas to solely follow his audio and visual commands by connecting them to his neurochip. Now all of the Mechas are activated and are pouring in through the levels of the tower to reach Takashi’s location. He then copied the full schematics of the Mecha-Clad project to an external memory to keep it with him and then wiped them entirely from Arasaka’s database. Upon going outside the lab, he found 500 hundred Mechas aligned in front of him waiting for the next command.

During the chaotic events, V was struggling to escape with Takashi’s family. They were surrounded by security guards and they can barely hide from them. V sent a distress signal to Takashi hoping that he would be able to do something from his end. Takashi saw the distress signal through his smart contact lenses and immediately ordered 10 of the Mechas to go to the location of the last distress signal he received. V is running out of time and the guards are closing in. She had no choice but to engage and try to clear a way for the family to escape. V managed to takedown a lot of guards, but there was no end to it. She was simply outnumbered. But all of a sudden, the Mechas rushed into V’s place tearing apart all of the guards. Their agility and strength were something that V had never seen before. She checked the live feed connected with Takashi and realized that he managed to control the Mechas. V quickly went back to the family to continue their escape under the protection of the sent Mechas.

Takashi along with the Mechas rushed through the hangar. Takashi took one of the two Boeings in the hangar and all of the Mechas were loaded into the huge plane. He then went full throttle and finally took off away from Arasaka. After a brief flight he managed to land in an abandoned area. After he and the Mechas went outside of the plane, he set it on auto-flight with coordinates far away from his landing place. The abandoned workshop was not far from his landing position. He walked with hundreds of Mechas across a desert-like area until he reached the workshop. He found his family waiting for him along with the Mechas he sent with them. They were finally gathered again as one family. Aika told Takashi that V left them once she found that they were safe and sound. Takashi found that V did not request for the second transaction he promised. So, he figured another way of repaying her.

After the messy operation, V was in dire need of a long rest. One morning, someone was knocking on the door. The surveillance camera is showing someone with a suit and holding flowers. She cautiously went to the door ready for anything. After opening she found one of the Mechas all dressed up and handing over the flowers. She took them and opened the note. It said that “Hope you enjoy the gift P.S. I made special edits to this one to fit your needs. Read the manual”. V then let the Mecha in and started to go through the manual.

As for Takashi, he is now in the beginning of a new phase. His fight with Arasaka is far from over. He began to prepare a base for his new resistance. Gathering specialists who share the same vision towards Arasaka, tweaking the Mechas even further, and planning for his next move. He knows that Arasaka will not leave him be. But he is also not intending on letting them go either. It is now his time to fight against Arasaka’s complete dominance policy… It is time for the uprising.
 
neon dances in the windows outside, filtering through the shutters held together by string and plastic. for a moment, I could almost see a limb of one of the virtual models, a lithe hand that brushes past these various windows turned into figures of data. thousands of people live here in this megaplex in night city blurring into city lights out of angled car windows/ frames pulled in our speed where we hoped to seem radiant in the smoky alleyways/ finding ourselves in the badlands of this old rotting earth whose sky has already moved past/ not thinking of any planetary exit that people dream about in flying cars, but more of this passing of time/ dying in our repeating time on earth in the summer heat nearly enrapturing us.
 
Status
Not open for further replies.
Top Bottom