Cyberpunk: I'm Not a Scavenger - Chapter 5: Half-Ghost Mask (Patreon)

The Tyger Claws were Night City's largest gang, controlling almost all of Westbrook and most of Watson.

Founded by Japanese immigrants, the gang had inherited the darker traditions of the yakuza. It ruled Jig-Jig Street, the city's biggest red-light district, as well as Clouds, its most prestigious dollhouse.

After Arasaka returned to Night City, the Tyger Claws received even more backing. With high-end cyberware, small arms, vehicles, and daemons at their disposal, they'd grown more arrogant than ever.

Pantheon parked his motorcycle in a secluded corner and carefully armed its alarm. The last thing he wanted was to return and find it stolen.

He activated his cybernetic eye and scanned the area. At the target warehouse's entrance, two guards were bullying an elderly scrap collector.

"Don't you know this is Tyger Claws territory, moron?" One of the guards kicked the old man, knocking him to the ground.

"Please, let me go. I came here by mistake. Please..."

The old man knelt trembling before the tattoo-covered gang members, afraid that one wrong word would be enough to get him killed.

"Neither of us has eaten today. If you know what's good for you, hand over your money."

While they were talking, Pantheon had already crept behind them through the alley's shadows. He caught the old man's eye and gave him a discreet signal.

Pretending not to notice, the old man reluctantly produced a few banknotes. One of the thugs immediately snatched them away.

"Please, boss, leave me a little! My wife's waiting for her medicine!"

He grabbed the thug's leg and began wailing, refusing to let go.

The thug was so irritated that he reached for his gun, ready to kill the ungrateful old bastard. Before he could draw it, someone wrapped their arms around him from behind.

"Hey, bro, knock it off! There are people around." The thug stiffened, an oddly bashful look crossing his face.

Crack!

His neck snapped. His body went limp and collapsed to the ground.

Behind him, the other thug was already lying there, waiting for company.

[Essence +5]

[Essence +4]

"Ugh. Disgusting."

Pantheon shook his hand in revulsion and warned the old man.

"Get out of here. Things are about to get ugly."

He kicked a fallen pistol toward the scrap collector and headed deeper into the alley without looking back.

The old man promptly stripped both Tyger Claws members of everything they had, right down to their underwear, then gathered up his belongings and fled.

Having completed his good deed for the day, Pantheon climbed onto a roof, crossed several buildings, and quickly found his target.

The warehouse's layout was simple. The truck he wanted stood out in the open, with two gang underlings lounging beside it and chatting.

Three more men wandered lazily around the warehouse on patrol, showing no sign of vigilance.

From the look of them, they probably hadn't even realized their two gate guards were dead.

Pantheon saw no reason to waste words. He took out two flashbangs and hurled them into the group.

The three men on patrol were hit first. The grenades detonated before their eyes, blinding them, while the deafening blasts left them unable to tell which way was which.

One of them kept his finger pressed to the trigger, bullets chewing small craters into the ground in front of him.

[Dead Eye]!

Three crisp shots took out all three men. Pantheon felt a familiar discomfort in his lungs.

He needed to replace those lungs soon, or at least install some more cyberware.

A quick search of the bodies yielded only six Essence points and around eight hundred eddies.

He didn't bother looking twice. Instead, he turned and rushed toward the warehouse.

The two men near the truck had just struggled back to their feet when a huge boot appeared from nowhere and kicked one of them down again.

The other looked up to find the enormous muzzle of the Malorian Overture pressed against his forehead.

Bang! Bang!

[Essence +7]

Clap. Clap. Clap.

Someone began applauding behind him. Pantheon went rigid, and cold sweat broke out on his forehead.

Shit. He'd let his guard down.

The truck's door opened, and a man wearing a mask shaped like half a demon's face appeared on its roof.

Pantheon's heart sank. A Half-Ghost Mask was a mark of the Tyger Claws' elite. Above them were the far rarer and more powerful Full-Ghost Masks.

"You mercenaries have noses like dogs. It's only been a day, and you've already tracked the place down."

The Half-Ghost Mask looked down at Pantheon from his perch.

"Unfortunately for you, you ran into me."

Pantheon smiled. He'd noticed that the man's eyes were unusually red and swollen.

"Then why didn't you help your buddies earlier? Don't tell me you got blinded by the flashbangs too."

Lies didn't hurt nearly as much as the sharp edge of the truth.

The Half-Ghost Mask's expression darkened. He drew his katana and spoke with the grave solemnity of someone performing a ritual.

"You should be honored to die by my blade."

He sprang forward, the sword aimed straight at Pantheon's chest.

Bang! Bang!

Two bullets tore through the air. The masked man's body shifted at an impossible angle in midair, effortlessly evading them.

Sandevistan!

Pantheon's pupils contracted, and his expression turned deadly serious.

The Sandevistan was a central nervous system cyberware implant capable of dramatically improving perception and movement for short bursts.

Its sophisticated algorithms and processing power multiplied the speed at which the body could execute commands, giving the user lightning-fast reactions and superhuman mobility.

As the Half-Ghost Mask closed the distance, Pantheon grabbed a submachine gun he'd just taken from the gangsters and opened fire to keep him away.

Before long, three or four empty guns littered the ground.

At this range, switching guns was faster than reloading.

"Give up. Stop struggling. The more you fight, the more fun I'll have."

The Half-Ghost Mask wasn't in any hurry. He darted from side to side, playing with his prey, without the slightest concern that Pantheon might escape.

This was the heart of Tyger Claws territory. Once headquarters failed to make contact with the men stationed here, someone would come to investigate.

Soon the last captured gun was empty too. The Malorian had just one bullet left.

"This is your best chance to surrender. Maybe I'll even spare you."

"Oh, really?"

If the man's arm hadn't been trembling as he spoke, Pantheon might have believed him.

Right in front of his opponent, Pantheon reached behind his back.

"Watch your eyes!"

He threw a black, cylindrical object. The Half-Ghost Mask instinctively turned away and squeezed his eyes shut.

Nothing happened.

"Baka!"

Humiliated and furious, the Half-Ghost Mask gave up toying with him. He launched himself straight at Pantheon with terrifying speed.

Finally. He took the bait.

Pantheon let out a long breath of relief.

The difference in their physical abilities had kept him from using [Dead Eye] recklessly. Fortunately, he'd managed to create an opening.

Now it's my turn!

[Dead Eye]!

Color drained from the world, and time slowed.

Pantheon raised his revolver toward the Half-Ghost Mask. The man twisted aside, but repeated use of his high-end cyberware had already made his movements slower and less controlled.

Something's wrong!

The Half-Ghost Mask suddenly realized that Pantheon's gun was moving along with him, tracking every attempted dodge.

He looked up and saw Pantheon smiling.

Bang!

The katana cut through empty air as the two men passed each other.

A moment later, the Half-Ghost Mask crashed to the ground, blood spreading beneath his body.

Pantheon collapsed as well, exhausted. Repeatedly using his abilities over the past two days had taken a serious toll on him.

His ruined lungs were giving him a final warning. If he didn't stop soon, they were going to give out entirely.

Without the temporary boost from the trait he'd gained the previous night, he might not even have lasted this long.

After resting briefly, Pantheon forced himself back to his feet.

He opened the truck's cargo compartment. It was packed with circuit boards, exactly the shipment he'd come to recover.

He hurriedly stuffed the Half-Ghost Mask's body into a bag, climbed into the truck, and drove off. He didn't dare linger and risk getting intercepted on the way.

As for the motorcycle he'd ridden there, he'd set it to follow the truck automatically.

Only after crossing the bridge over the sea and reaching Corpo Plaza did Pantheon finally relax.

Even if the Tyger Claws had ten times their usual nerve, they wouldn't dare start trouble here.

Two enormous holographic goldfish swam through the air above the plaza.

The Arasaka and Militech skyscrapers rose on either side, towering over the entire district.

As Pantheon drove, a silvery figure flashed through the edge of his vision.

Before he could take a second look, the truck had already passed beyond the plaza.