Gachapunk 2076 2 (Patreon)

Gachapunk 2076

Chapter 2

-VB-

For a full week, I worked on making my drones.

When I made my first drone design, the Chaos Gacha remained silent. 

When I made my first drone prototype, the Chaos Gacha remained silent. 

When I tested, reviewed, and improved upon the prototype into a more mature design, the Chaos Gacha remained silent. 

I stared at the design in front of me and wondered if this was the best I could do right now. 

The Sic and Salvage Drone, or SAS Drone, was made to perform two main jobs: killing and salvaging. Unfortunately, I had run into my current limitations for available hardware models and make, so there was a limit to what I could do. For example, the SAS Drones were capable of trajectory prediction, object permeance, and cover fire, allowing them to weave in and out of cover while firing at the enemy. It was also capable of cutting into any objects that may have higher quality rewards that could not be removed without cutting into said object. 

Even by the standards of the Night City, this was a very good drone and drone software, and yet, I wondered if I could do… because the Chaos Gacha was not rewarding me with anything. 

I frowned, but this was as far as I could take this ability if I didn’t want to spend months designing a very artisanal software and drone chassis, if there was ever such a thing. 

But I had a feeling that I would still not be rewarded for it, even if others might have. 

After all, some people got tickets just for doing something, though this was also inconsistent. 

No, the Chaos Gacha was … a tool of literature. A tool of plot. An endless push toward greatness whether the character wanted it or not. 

Something that turned people into playthings.

At the same time, was that truly what it was for me? Even though I was the owner of my Chaos Gacha, I had been contacted by a “manager.” Why did I even get the Gacha? 

What was the Gacha? 

One, I received it without warning. 

Two, I gained powers from it and there were more to be gained. 

Three, a manager contacted me regarding my sedentary approach.

Four, before, during, and after the manager’s appearance, the Gacha remained mostly silent.

Five, others have received Gacha before, even though all I had read about this was through … fanfiction. 

And instead of in a setting I didn’t recognize at all, it was in Cyberpunk.

… Was the Gacha just that, then? A tool to drive the plot whichever way it went as long as it went somewhere? A blood for the blood god except for plots? 

“Oh fuck, chaos is even in its name,” I muttered to myself and let out an insane laugh.

Of course, it wasn’t the Warp! 

… Right? 

Right?! 

I took a deep breath and steadied myself. 

Whatever it was, there was a genuine demand from the Chaos Gacha and whoever made it for me to go out there and do something. 

And I think I was ready now. 

I stood up from my chair and looked down at the SAS Drone version A7. It was as big as a large dog, possessed eight legs, and had a chassis capable of withstanding at least a few shots from a small caliber gun. 

I turned to the other SAS Drones, all of which were version A6. 

I activated them all and watched as the giant spiders booted up, ran through their startups, and quickly got on their feet once the SASD Software engaged. 

I then opened my living room window. 

“Come back by 7 p.m. Otherwise, send a report about your situation.”

The seven spider drones all crittered before almost silently but nonetheless critter-cratter, click-clack, and skit-skat’ed across the floor, up my walls, and then climbed out through the window. 

I took a deep breath in. 

Okay. 

Let’s see exactly what kind of results I got. 

The difference between A6 and A7 was both significant and miniscule. Their core software was no different: stalk, hunt, salvage, return, and repeat. A6’s were designed with one particular group in mind: the Scavs. They were the lowest of the low, and nobody would miss them if I turned them into target practices and … harvested them. They would not have expensive hardwares. On the other hand, most of them were dumb enough that even if they managed to get their hands on one of my SAS Drones, they would rip and tear it apart rather than try to sell it as it was to someone who might appreciate the complete product. 

Because of this, the Scavs made for a very good practice run for my version A6 SAS Drones. 

The A7 drone, on the other hand, had a different goal: find the plot relevant characters.

My internal ramblings about the plot, Chaos Gacha, and the lot didn’t happen because I was bored or going insane. It was because I was building A7 specifically to interfere in that. And it was my hope that it would get the Chaos Gacha to start handing out more things to me.

And I was a little curious about the situation right now. 

---

Lucy stared at the thing currently looking down on her. 

It was definitely a drone and not some sort of a human experiment gone wrong. 

But why couldn’t she hack into it?! 

Drones in the Night City were all semi-autonomous. This meant that they were connected in some way or others because they needed to be observed and directed at times. And being connected to a network meant that there was always some opening for netrunners like herself to dive through.

The fact that she couldn’t dive into this drone or its network… Or that there was no signal being sent or received by the drone… 

A shiver ran up her spine. 

Was it … an AI? It couldn’t be. If there was an AI loose in the city, then Netwatch would be here and the city would be in chaos. 

She took a steady breath in but didn’t move to threaten the drone.

Because it already had a gun trained on her. 

It chittered before it slowly backpedaled into the air vent it came out of.

Soon, it was gone, and all she heard was a quickly quieting click-clacks of metal legs walking away from her. 

She stayed still for a long time after that, and only when she was sure nothing else was going to happen, Lucy allowed herself to fall onto her bed. 

---

Viktor Vektor, or Vik as he preferred, stared at the thing that had walked into his clinic. 

Yes, walked in. 

The thing stared up at him with those beady red optics. 

“... Can I help you?” he asked it. 

It didn’t do anything for a little while. In fact, it chittered with physical mouthpieces before it took a few steps forward. 

Then … it bounced up and down. It was an odd gesture(?). Almost like a dog wagging its tail. 

It stopped and didn’t do anything else for a while. Then it turned around and left. 

He faintly heard Misty calling out to the spider-thing. “Come back again soon!”

Vik sighed and rolled his eyes. 

Just when he thought that he had seen everything the city had to offer him, he found himself surprised. He wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing. 

He sighed and went back to watching his recorded pre-DataKrash boxing matches. 

---

David stared at the thing that had crawled out from the garbage bags. 

It had eight legs, a green and blue body, and red beady eyes. 

Oh, and the gun on top of it. 

It chittered, looked around by moving its legs and then stopped when it saw him.

David started to back away. 

He knew that “new” things in the Night City were never good for regular chooms like himself. 

In fact, this thing looked like a science experiment gone rogue, and those kinds of thing were never good.

He was about to call the NCPD when it chittered up at him before backing away and going the other way. It skittered away up the walls and around the corner. 

David took a deep breath in and pulled his hand away from his agent. 

Yeah.

Yeah, he was just going to ignore that. 

It wasn’t his business, and it wasn’t his problem. He was already going to run late going to school at this rate. 

---

Maine stared at the gun-totting drone.

It looked … cheap. Cheap but complete. It wasn’t like those drones that collected trash or went around observing people and their houses. 

This was a dangerous drone. 

“Hey, Kiwi,” he called to his netrunner without taking his eyes off of the spider drone that was looking at him and his crew from the corner of the alley wall. It spotted him calling for his netrunner and quickly scurried away. “Never mind.” But over his agent, he called to the rest of his crew. ‘We’re being watched.’

Nothing came out of it, but it was the principle of it all that irked him. 

He was being watched and he wasn’t sure why. 

There were problems for him and his crew in the future if something was eyeing them like that with a drone model he never saw before.