Cyberpunk: I'm Not a Scavenger - Chapter 2: A Rainy Night with a Knife but No Umbrella (Patreon)

"Good evening, Night City!"

"Yesterday's Body Lotto ended with a grand total of thirty dead!"

"Thanks to those endless gang shootouts, Heywood alone racked up ten!"

"But one cop bought the farm too, and I reckon you'll all lose your bets! The NCPD isn't going to let it slide."

"I'm your good buddy Stan. Come along and start another day in the City of Dreams with me!"

Stan's unmistakable voice came from the car radio, announcing the latest Body Lotto results that everyone had been waiting for.

"FUCK!"

Roman's face turned scarlet as he tore his lottery ticket to shreds.

"People actually fall for this crap? I've been telling you it's a scam."

Duncan laughed at him from behind the wheel, plainly enjoying the spectacle.

"The guy said the fixed number was seventeen!" Roman ground his teeth, his cybernetic eyes flashing an ominous red. "That son of a bitch took two thousand eddies from me! Two thousand!"

Pantheon poked his head out from between the equipment and the body bag, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Oh? That 'inside information' of yours wouldn't happen to be something you bought in a bar bathroom while you were drunk, would it?"

"Hahahaha!"

Duncan and Pantheon burst out laughing, filling the vehicle with their good humor.

Roman flushed even darker and opened his mouth to retort. Before he could, a motorcycle engine roared outside, growing louder by the second.

It was two in the morning, and there was hardly any traffic.

A motorcycle painted with a Hannya demon face shot out from the left, passing within inches of the Columbus. Another bike followed close behind.

Duncan swerved. The tires shrieked against the rain-slick road, and the vehicle rocked so violently that Pantheon had to grab a door handle to avoid being thrown around.

"Fuck! Didn't your mother teach you how to drive?"

Roman seized his chance to vent. He leaned out the window and hurled curses at the riders.

They looked as though they were running for their lives. One gave him the finger, and both bikes sped off without paying him any further attention.

Roman settled back into his seat, looking as pleased as if he'd won a battle.

Then another vehicle raced past. Its tires sliced through a puddle, flinging a great sheet of muddy water across the Columbus's windshield and giving Roman a thorough soaking.

Roman sat there in stunned silence.

Duncan leaned away to avoid getting any of the filth on him, but that didn't stop him from laughing.

"Free shower! Think of the water bill you'll save. More money for booze."

"Hahahaha!"

That last round of mockery finally pushed Roman over the edge.

He didn't dare take his anger out on Duncan, so he stuck his upper body through the window and began insulting the other driver's entire family.

His army training had clearly paid off. It took him only two or three sentences to get under the other man's skin.

"What, in a hurry to die? When your mother gave birth, did she throw away the baby and raise the placenta instead?"

"Your poor mother's had a hard enough time raising you. She's already got two or three guys lined up. Give her a fucking break and wait your turn!"

Perhaps Roman's words had struck a particularly sensitive nerve.

The other car's trunk was kicked open from the inside.

A Scavenger emerged with needle marks all over his neck and trapezius muscles so swollen they looked like wings. He was furious enough to have forgotten his face covering.

He panted heavily, eyes bloodshot. The bastard looked thoroughly drugged out of his mind.

Without a moment's warning, the cyberware in his arm shifted, exposing a concealed projectile launch system. He pointed it straight at the Columbus.

"FUCK!"

Time seemed to slow. Roman's scream stretched into a long, distorted howl in Pantheon's ears. The windshield fractured like a spiderweb, and fire poured through the cracks.

[Quick Start]!

The trait gave Pantheon a split-second advantage, an extra second to react before anyone else.

He curled up as tightly as he could, using the body bag and the scattered equipment to cushion himself.

Just before he lost consciousness, he remembered the burned corpse from earlier.

Am I going to end up a charred stick figure too?

BOOM!!!

The Columbus rolled onto its side beside the road. Its front end was mangled beyond recognition, and thick smoke billowed from beneath the hood.

Riiiiing.

A shrill, unrelenting noise bored into his ears, as though someone were twisting a spike around inside his brain.

Pantheon opened his eyes. Everything swayed, overlapping into a mess of double images.

He lay against the twisted door with the body bag and equipment piled on top of him. There was barely enough room to breathe.

He didn't feel too badly injured, so he kicked the corpse out of his way and squeezed through a gap beside the window.

Rain was still pouring down. The icy water striking his face brought him fully awake.

Clang! Clang!

Several stray bullets struck the vehicle, screeching against the metal.

A blow to Pantheon's chest made him feel as though Ultraman Taro had punched him.

His bulletproof vest had stopped the rounds. Fighting through the pain, he scrambled behind the wreck for cover.

If you wanted to live long in Night City, the first lesson was to stay away from trouble. Get too close and somebody would put a bullet in you.

He shifted cautiously and peered through a gap toward the far side of the street.

Two groups were trading furious gunfire. One was the gang that had just attacked them. The other was a band of Tyger Claws, their bodies covered in colorful tattoos.

It was late at night. Red, blue, and purple neon bled into the rain, mingling with muzzle flashes until the whole street looked like some grotesque oil painting.

By the faint light, Pantheon could just make out the front cab.

Duncan's face was riddled with shards of glass. Shrapnel had torn away half of Roman's face. They were both well and truly dead, probably already lining up for reincarnation and whatever pleasures awaited them afterward.

Pantheon leaned against the wreck, overcome by a tremendous sense of injustice.

As sanitation workers, they labored tirelessly, collecting bodies, clearing rubbish, and keeping the city clean, only to be constantly misunderstood.

Here they'd been, riding home after work, chatting, bragging, and listening to music. Then some criminals had blown them up for no reason.

How was that fair?

Was there no justice left? No law?

BOOM!

Another explosion lit up the street, and Pantheon's thoughts became considerably more sensible.

Maybe I should just forget about it.

With his current strength, he wouldn't even qualify as a snack for those people. He wasn't worth getting stuck between their teeth.

But he couldn't accept it. He still had one final chance.

[Essence: 97]

If he could get just three more points, he might turn his fate around.

Was he going to spend the rest of his life as a nobody, or become famous throughout the world?

He had to ask himself whether this might be the only chance he'd ever get.

Looking toward the endless gunfire and bursts of flame, Pantheon's expression grew resolute, with a touch of madness beneath it.

Risking a stray bullet, he rolled toward the ruined cab. The movement was clumsy, but his eyes shone with excitement.

[Detected trait: [Battlefield Instinct] (Blue)]

[Keep this trait?]

[Battlefield Instinct] (Blue)

Description: Sense of killing intent?

Effect: Reflexes +3. Special effect: Grants an unusual instinct for potential danger.

Pantheon stared in astonishment.

He'd never imagined that the old bastard who smoked, drank, and constantly flirted with young women would give him a surprise like this.

So you really were a retired Militech soldier!

Duncan's body yielded no trait, but it did provide the Essence he desperately needed.

[No complete trait detected. Remaining fragments will be converted into Essence.]

[Essence +7]

Seven points it was. One hundred and four against the required hundred. The odds were in his favor.

Pantheon rolled down the roadside slope, snatching up Roman's carefully tuned sidearm along the way, a large-caliber Malorian Overture revolver.

Leaning against a concrete barrier, Pantheon felt his breathing quicken.

Kids don't cry every single day, and gamblers can't lose every single time, right?

Time to go all in!

System, turn this whole thing around!

The prize wheel began to spin. Pantheon held his breath, his heart hammering.

Wraith's phase-jump device from Apex Legends, the same Mjolnir power armor Master Chief wore in Halo, a Baneblade super-heavy tank from Warhammer 40,000...

Countless mouthwatering prizes flashed past. The pointer raced around the wheel while Pantheon's hopes rose and plunged with every turn.

At last it slowed and settled on a single space.

[Ability acquired: [Dead Eye] (Red)]

[Dead Eye] (Red)

Description: I have a plan! A goddamn plan!

Effect: Activating the ability grants bullet time, vastly enhanced reactions, weakness markers, firearm mastery, and limited X-ray vision.

The instant the draw ended, pain ripped through Pantheon. It felt as if someone had torn out his spine, stretched all the attached nerves over a fire, and started roasting them.

The world slowed to a crawl. He could see raindrops tracing paths through the air, the shy smile of a girl who'd once sat beside him in class, and his grandmother gently beckoning to him.

Wait a second. He was an orphan. Where the hell had that grandmother come from?

The transformation finished, and his consciousness was stuffed back into his body.

Pantheon lowered his head, struggling to control his expression. In the end, he burst out laughing.

"Pfft! Bwahahahahaha!"

Cold rain and bitter winds sweep Night City. Beside a body bag, a young man grieves.

The Columbus lies shattered, his comrades gone. The Reaper opens his eyes, and demons flee.

Bullets rain down, and gangs fall to their knees. Life is cheap, yet not a tear is shed.

The lottery has decided his fate, and defeat isn't in the cards. Night City may regret it, but I never will.

Pantheon makes his grand entrance!