Winding Roads: Rude Awakening 1.3 (ch. 3) (Patreon)

When I opened my eyes once more, sunlight streaming through the window, I was unsurprised to find the still unfamiliar ceiling overhead. Despite a nurtured hope in the back of my mind, I knew everything was real. It was too vivid to be a dream or a hallucination. I was in Cyberpunk. 

It was tempting to just lie there. Waste the day away. In my frenzied search, I’d found most of the relevant answers to my questions and addressed my immediate problems. Rent was covered. Paid off most of my debt, though I still needed to find who loaned me the five thousand before interest could bite me in the ass, but if they hadn't reached out yet I still had time. I also found out who flatlined the original occupant of this body. 

Tagashi Mokoto. He, I didn’t know. Who he worked for, however, was a name I managed to dredge up from memory. Katsuo Tanaka, David Martinez's bully at Arasaka Academy. A real Draco Malfoy punk who used his dad's name as a shield. He didn't even have the balls to zero me himself. Tagashi was the trigger man. 

Meaning, I was in the clear. Rocinante had just been a loose end to be tied off. Popping back up on the radar wouldn't be a problem. I doubt Katsuo ever even learned my name, and if he did, I very much doubt that he bothered to remember it. 

I could let sleeping dogs lie. I didn't need to go pick a fight with a punk-ass teenager. Who happened to be the son of one of the highest-ranked executives of Arasaka this side of the Pacific. I could just let it go. Like Elsa. 

“But I'm not going to,” I realized with a sigh and tossed off the covers. It left a bad taste in my mouth. There was no way for me to know who Rocinante really was or what was going through his head before he died, but it felt so damn disrespectful to leave him unavenged. For better or for worse, I had inherited his life and all the baggage that came with it. That was something I had to carry, like the horse I was named after. 

So, carry it I would.

“Am I really going to murder a teenager, though?” I asked myself, making my way into the shower. Once the hot water was flowing, I found that I was rather ambivalent about the prospect. Tagashi pulled the trigger, but he was just a gun. Katsuo was the one who pointed him in my direction. “Even if Sato Tanaka doesn't give a damn about his kid -- he's not going to let his son's murder go unanswered.” Which meant he would bring the long arm of Arasaka onto my head. 

A sigh escaped me, and I pushed my hair back, “The car.” 

If Katsuo was using a fifth-rate mercenary like Rocinante, then the car was his personal project. Maybe something to prove to daddy, or maybe he just thought the car was cool and worth murdering me for. Meaning that if I stole it back, Papa Tanaka would just call his son an idiot and move on with his day. 

The car was the way to go. I couldn’t kill Katsuo without bringing the Wrath of God on my head and cutting short this new life. I could, however, get back the car that I had been murdered over. 

“Which just leaves one issue. I have to break into one of the most secure houses in the city, steal a car, and stash it somewhere.” Not exactly a simple task. But not one that was entirely impossible, either. 

Stepping out of the shower, a plan started to come together. The images of the mansion were key. Because the mansion Katsuo lived in was the very same mansion Kerry Eurodyne lived in in 2077. Meaning, theoretically, I had already broken into the building a dozen times. Just, you know, in a video game. 

Two things were working against me, however. My lack of netrunning hardware, and the fact that I was likely on a clock. I had no idea if or when the car would be moved. So I needed to move fast. 

Once dressed, I began surfing the net, looking for what I needed. First and foremost, I needed to see if what I wanted was readily available. And if it was even possible in the first place. 

It was. Would be a little pricey, though. Especially with same-day delivery. And that would be in addition to the expenses I would need to outsource. “Vengeance is pricey,” I mused, placing an order. If there had to be one silver lining about the dystopian world of Cyberpunk, delivery speeds were fast. My order was due to arrive in two hours. 

In the meantime, I picked up the Militech Training Sim. It felt a little dicey shoving it in my head, but Vik had cleared it. Still, there was a little trepidation before I slotted it in- 

It was a trippy experience. It felt like I was transported to a training ground made of gray blocks. Directly before me was a test dummy robot dressed as drill sergeant character ripped right from Full Metal Jacket. While he was hitting me with all the classic lines, I acquainted myself with the sensation. I had some experience with VR, and I’d thought that would have prepared me for it. 

But this was VR fully realized. Despite feeling as if I were moving around, my body remained perfectly still. 

The training module had about four main sections, but unlike the game, it was customizable. Honestly, it was almost gameified. Complete with difficulties and point values. There was even a custom encounter mode. I could see myself spending some serious time in the sim, developing my skills as a mercenary and polishing them to a shine. 

For now, I focused on the stealth sections. Familiarizing myself with the movements and what I was likely to encounter with a high-end bodyguard. Which was, unfortunately, far more than I would have liked. Superhuman senses were very much a thing, whether through bio or cyberware. Worse, with the right software, you could filter out the stench of Night City and have your OS flag any unexpected scents you were nose-blind to. 

Of course, there were ways around it. Bioware that would eliminate any odor you produced. Cyberware that eliminated all sound you made when taking a step, though that involved cutting my legs off. But, as a rule, the best stealth seemed to be not being there in the first place. 

Two hours wasn’t enough to turn me into a ninja. Just like reading Blackhand’s book didn’t turn me into a top-tier merc. However, it let me familiarize myself with what to expect and how to handle it. 

Once the two hours passed, I was alerted to the sound of my package arriving through the chute. Exiting out of the sim, I hoped what was within was worth the two thousand eddies I spent on it. With a sigh, I grabbed my gear and headed out the door with a sense of purpose. 

My destination lay in Kabuki. There were probably better options out there, but if there were, I didn’t know where to find them. Which is how I found myself seeing a familiar sight because the game directed you to it -- EdgeNet, home of Yoko Tsuru. A purveyor of netrunning and quickhacks. 

The door opened, revealing a quiet shop. On the far wall were a number of netrunning chairs, two of which were occupied. Tucked in the corner was a row of old school arcade games. Behind the counter, however, was Yoko herself. 

“Greetings, honored customer. How may I be of service?” Yoko greeted me with a practiced smile, her glasses doing nothing to hide the up-down she gave me, taking note of my cyberwear, weapons, and, based on how her lips thinned ever so slightly, my paper-thin ICE. 

“Seems like you’ve found one of the reasons I’m here,” I remarked. “My name is Roc. Solo with substandard ICE and a desire to fix that before some gonk co-opts my arm and makes me eat my iron.”

That earned a more honest smile, “A reasonable concern in your line of work. That is, however, a great deal of trust to extend for our first meeting.” 

Too much, really. My research into the topic was shallow, but my familiarity with the setting filled in the blanks. ICE was necessary for the job, but there were two routes there. You went with the corpo ICE, which was high-end but came at the cost of giving that corporation a backdoor into your systems. And if an enemy netrunner knew how to crack it, they could bypass your ICE that much faster. 

The other option was trusting someone else to create ICE for you. Which meant you trusted them not to put a backdoor in your systems; you also trusted them not to sell a vulnerability down the line. The only surefire way to have zero vulnerabilities was to create your own ICE. Something I lacked the know-how to do. 

“It is. Which is why I was hoping you had a baby’s first cyberdeck on hand,” I admitted. I would try my hand at it, just to see if it clicked with me, but I doubted I had the raw talent to put me on the same level as Bartmoss, Alt, or Songbird. It was, however, an important step in my broader plans. 

Yoko chuckled, seemingly warming up to me a touch. “We have just the thing. Most don’t install cyberdecks at the start. For those who are uncertain about the path they walk… We have this.” She reached beneath the counter, passing me a handheld cyberdeck. I gave it a once-over before noticing the jack-in point. Yoko noticed my hesitation and chuckled, “Dear, we don’t need you to jack in if we wanted to hack your systems.”

“... Scary,” I acknowledged. She was right, though. Taking out the jack in my prosthetic’s wrist, I popped it into the port, and it synced with my systems. Bringing up the options with a thought, I saw two basic quickhacks. Ping and Breach. The bread and butter of every netrunner build. 

“Quite. Now, look to the electrical box and use Ping.” I did so, and everything connected to the store's subnet was highlighted with my optic. “Excellent. Now, try Breach.”

I did and- “Oh,” I muttered, caught by surprise. I probably shouldn’t be surprised. It was the same as it was in the anime and in the game. Still, it felt a bit weird that hacking was a minigame. A grid six by six, full of number and letter combos. On one side of my vision, there were codes I had to match. 

Yoko set it to easy mode, because within two seconds, I had breached the third level of systems. With each level, there was a discount -- five percent, ten percent, and fifteen percent. Looking back at Yoko, her brows furrowed but she seemed suitably impressed. “Well done. You certainly don’t move like a Rookie.” 

Because I had played that minigame a thousand times, since I never got around to just downloading a mod to skip them. 

I could only shrug, “I like puzzles?” Strangely enough, I doubted that was the first time she had heard that response. 

“So it seems,” Yoko acknowledged. “A distinction, however -- Breach is an ICE pick, and as basic one at that. There is a vast difference between quickhack hacking and true netrunning. Keep that in mind before you attempt to take on any serious ICE, where the latter will be required.” She stressed the words, carrying the tone of ‘and if you don’t believe me, I have thousands of examples of idiots who couldn’t make that distinction.’

Accepting that with a nod, she smiled thinly. “You said perusing for a cyberdeck was one piece of biz you had for us?” She asked, taking back the cyberdeck once I pulled out of it. Right. Reaching into my bag, I produced what I purchased. 

Hologram emitters. “Two things, technically. I need a script that can project a high-quality hologram over a six-by-thirteen vehicle, and I need a shard to spoof the signal so anything that does a surface-level scan registers it as what the hologram displays.” 

Yoko picked up the emitters, her eyes flickering red as she sent out a message. To who, I had no idea. Just that they were probably the reason why she kept saying we and us. “That can be arranged. It shouldn’t take more than an hour. Three thousand eddies -- half up front, and the other half upon completion.”

My poor bank account. “Done,” I said, flicking her half. “And how much for a handheld cyberdeck?” 

A holographic display appeared from the emitter. An inventory list. There were a number of brands that I didn’t recognize, but the most expensive of them was twenty thousand eddies. After my spending spree? I had twenty-one thousand eddies left. 

Vengeance was fucking expensive. 

“I don’t suppose the discount would apply to the Requiem?” I asked with a restrained sigh in my voice, making Yoko tilt her head. I knew enough about computers in general, and my research on the way, to know it was the most bang for my buck, even if it was the most expensive. 

I could afford the cyberdeck, and I couldn’t sub-par gear on the heist. Not when I was stealing a supercar from a mansion that was more of a fortress.

Her smile grew, “With your discount? Seventeen thousand eddies. With a complimentary Ping and Breach.” I’m guessing she saw a repeat customer in me. And she might be right. While some of those puzzles could be a real pain in the ass, after doing so many of them, you ended up solving them fast. 

Purchasing it, I jacked in and started fiddling with it. I had an hour to kill, after all. In terms of quality, based on game mechanics, I would put it at Rare quality, Militech Paraline. Decent RAM, good storage, and it was responsive. 

From the balcony, I reached out with Breach on a random car. Outright taking control of it would require time. A minute or two of chipping away at ICE. But I wouldn’t need to. In the dozen examples I learned from where I stood, I found that the ignition was surface-level. The downside was that tracking features were much deeper. 

That took time. Even with basic hardware, with enough time and no risk of discovery, someone could hack through the thickest of ICE. It was just a question of talent and how long someone was willing to just beat their head against the wall. 

Once the hour had passed, Yoko called me back in. With the hologram emitters arranged in a grid, she activated it to reveal… An Archer Hella, V’s junker car. That was amusing. It was a detailed hologram. If I didn’t know better, then I would think it was real. I almost didn’t even mind that I had apparently bought several times too many emitters. “And this,” Yoko continued, passing me a shard in a case, “is your spoof.”

“I appreciate it,” I said, flicking her the eddies.

“This gig,” Yoko said, watching me gather up my gear. “Will I hear about it on the news?” She asked, earning a laugh from me. 

“Only if I fuck up.”

…

“You’re becoming a real regular, kid,” Vik remarked as I once more entered his shop. “I’m guessing you decided to chip in that monowire and reflex turner?” He ventured, earning a nod from me. 

“And one more thing,” I admitted. He was expecting me since I made an appointment. No Jackie this time. “I need to close my open connections. Back in the Scav den, I found out the hard way my ICE isn’t worth a damn and I don’t trust anyone enough for an upgrade.” 

Vik made an acknowledging sound as I climbed onto the chair, passing him the implants. “That’s one way to get around it.” It wasn’t exactly common outside of the Animals, but it wasn’t uncommon either. Everything was connected to the net. Even me, right now -- my arm, my eye, my cyberdeck, even my OS. It was all tapped directly into the net. 

It was why you could look at someone and fry their brain, hijack their implants, and everything in between. 

Since I couldn’t get my hands on ICE that was worth the name, the other best option was to cut myself off entirely. Meaning that a netrunner would have to jack directly into me to interact with my systems.

“That’ll come with some serious quality of life changes,” Vik informed, which is why it wasn’t the go-to for every mercenary. “You’ll have to carry cash or cash shards everywhere you go. You’ll need a physical agent as well.” Cutting yourself off from the net offered protection, but it also left you isolated. I wouldn’t be able to flick eddies at people anymore. I would need to go to a bank to make withdrawals. With a thought, I wouldn’t be able to search the net. 

But I was more used to that than vice versa. I also had a workaround of sorts -- the cyberdeck. When it was on, it was connected to the net by default, and by jacking into it, I could tap into the net in a more limited fashion. It wouldn’t solve every issue, but it would solve most of the work-related ones. 

“I’m aware. Worth it, though,” I replied, settling in. As it would also stop someone from pinging me off a local subnet to discover my location. 

“If you say so,” Vik said, sounding like he had his doubts. “Since you brought the implants, that knocks a decent chunk off the price, so you’ll just be paying for my services. Which you already covered yesterday with that bout of generosity.”

A small laugh escaped me, “You’ll go out of business being that generous.” I pointed out, but I didn’t really argue. Vik wasn’t the type to change his mind. I’d just have to one-up him down the line. That, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to argue. I was burning through eddies fast. All necessary expenses, but I couldn’t say that it wasn’t a cause for concern. Forty-five thousand eddies didn’t last long as a merc. 

“That’s why repeat business is so important,” Vik agreed with some humor, jacking me into his tech. Then he went to work. I was awake for the entire process, and I couldn’t deny it was fascinating. Vik disconnected my arm first, taking some of my shoulder in the process until all that was left was the port. 

Then, he just kinda plugged it in. Connected wires and nerves, my OS registered the implant and gave me the specs. All the while, Vik shot the shit with me, half-keeping me distracted while he worked. And when his focus was required, that left me free to flip through his inventory. 

The games were becoming an increasingly reliable seeming source of information about the world, but that didn't make it perfect. For starters, Night City was about three times bigger than it was in the game. Secondly, Vik didn't have a slimmed-down inventory. 

Vik catered towards the mercenary demographic, but he had plenty of fashionware too. In the world of Cyberpunk, looking good while doing something was just as important, if not more important, than being good at something. Style over substance. 

His cyberware selection had some pieces that interested me. Bio-monitor, subdermal armor rated for medium caliber bullets, and Dense Marrow. Sadly, they were a bit outside of my price range. More importantly, there was a subsection that wasn't there in the games. 

Bioware. 

It didn't make the cut in Cyberpunk 2077, and Edgerunners didn't touch on it either. Yet bioware was a perfectly viable alternative to cyberware, if not quite as good in most cases. A top shelf optic with the right mods could zoom in up to five hundred meters. With a biomodded eye, you might get half that. Still good. Great, really. 

Where bioware really shone was when paired with cyberware. Skinweave was an example -- the top three layers of skin would be fused together in a weave, granting protection equivalent to modern day flak armor. Cut, bullet, and burn resistant. Of course, get shot by a gun that could punch through concrete like it wasn't there, and you'd still be reduced to a fine mist. But, when paired with subdermal armor? Maybe a fatal shot could become survivable. 

Your odds increase with Nanosurgeons. Nanites carried through the bloodstream, which would repair injuries at speeds dependent on the quality of the nanites. Top-shelf, the kind that would forever remain in the world's elite? That could increase the speed of recovery by a factor of five.  

‘Skinweave, Bone Lace, Nanosurgeons.’ If I were going to be a mercenary, then they would be must-haves. 

“You offer those on tap?” I asked Vik while he was in the middle of performing surgery. I was lying face down now, completely numb as he grafted the Reflex Tuner to each disk of my spine. 

“Skinweave and Bone Lace? Those, I do, but the quality can vary for the Bone Lace. I grab Nanosurgeons as much as I can, but it's not a guarantee,” Vik answered. “In the market?” 

“Will be eventually.” 

Vik chuckled, “Won't stop you from paying me back with my own eddies, but I would pace yourself. The monowire is going to be an adjustment, but not too big of one given its just an upgrade on your prosthetic. The Reflex Tuner? That's going to take some time to adjust. Two weeks at the bare minimum, but, as your ripper, I'd feel a lot more comfortable if you waited at least a month.” 

A long time in a dangerous line of work. 

“You're the expert,” I accepted. Provided I didn’t get myself killed stealing a car I had already died over, I had some ideas on what my next moves would be. 

“A merc that listens to his doc? Will wonders ever cease?” Vik said with a chuckle, sealing me back up from nape to hips. Feeling steadily returned to my limbs, and once he gave the okay, I turned myself around- 

“Whoa,” I muttered, feeling… off. Not in a bad way. The only thing that I could really compare it to was back when I was a teenager trying to get my learner's permit, only to discover I had a severe astigmatism in both my eyes, leaving me blind as a bat. I grew up thinking it was normal to not be able to make out details more than a dozen feet away from me. Then I put on glasses, and the change was so potent and overwhelming that I couldn't bear to wear them for more than an hour at first. It was the difference between 120p to 8k clarity. 

Only now it was my entire body. There was a smoothness to every movement that- 

I barely registered that Vik threw an inhaler at me until I caught it. Glancing at it, he offered a knowing look. “Two puffs of that every twelve hours for the next three days. Once you run out, I want a check-in to see how it's settling, alright?” 

Hitting the inhaler, I tasted mint. “Every twelve hours and a check-in three days from now. Loud and clear.” 

“That's what I like to hear,” Vik said, sounding pleased. I got the distinct impression I was an unusually cooperative patient. “Now, the monowire is dangerous. You touch anything with any amount of force outside of the pads of your fingers? It's going to go right through it, and that includes you.” I glanced down at the gray pads on the insides of my fingers -- the one place I could safely grab the monowire. “My recommendation is to familiarize yourself with your new reflexes before you start playing around with it. Otherwise, you're liable to cut something off.” 

And now I saw why his other customers weren't so cooperative. That was like being given a new toy and told you couldn't play with it. 

“I hear you,” I sighed with obvious reluctance. 

“Now, to take you off the net…” Vik said, tapping away at his computer. It only took a few strokes. “There you are. Hidden from the wider web.”

I found myself breathing just a bit easier at the news, even if I didn't feel any different. The fact that some random Scav had been able to hack me so effortlessly had gotten to me more than I’d expected. “I appreciate it, Vik. I mean it.” 

Standing up made me feel like I had two left feet all my life. I felt so coordinated it was like I was uncoordinated, nearly tripping when I tried to take a step forward. Vik watched me for a moment, settling in his seat. 

“Just doing my job, kid. What's next for you?” 

“A whole lot of nothing.” 

…

There was one thing that I could trust about being a teenager, and one thing alone. That was teenagers were stupid. They could be smart, of course. One of those geniuses who got a baker's dozen degrees from Harvard by the time they turned eighteen or whatever. Yet, even they could be absolute idiots. That idiocy was so potent, so unquestionable, that I based my entire plan on it. 

When a teenager goes through all the trouble of stealing a luxury car, wouldn’t it just be a waste not to use it? Give it a little spin? A test drive? After all, who didn’t like going fast in a car that could go zero to mach fuck in three seconds?

Recon was a necessary part of the job. It was also incredibly, mind-numbingly boring. There was a decent vantage point that let me see the mansion in question. It was a relief to learn that it was identical to the game, meaning all my stealth missions had borne fruit. I knew the layout of the security systems, which apparently weren't set to be changed by the time Kerry would take up residence. 

Katsuo essentially lived in the mansion alone. In the three days I watched the building, I didn’t see a trace of Sato Tanaka. No home visits from him. Leaving Katsuo with a predictable schedule -- wake up, go to school for about three hours, go back home, change, hang out with his toady friends until ten o’clock, before going home and sleeping. Rinse and repeat. Tagashi Mokoto was their shadow. 

Sometimes he was seen. Other times he wasn’t. He was always there, though. A seemingly stern, no-nonsense Japanese man who favored submachine guns and katanas. He was the one complication to the plan, as I couldn’t count on him being an idiot. All the more so because I couldn’t tell what kind of ‘ware he had, be it cyberware or bioware.

It was on the third day that it happened. 

“You're never going to guess what I got this time, chooms,” Katsuo bragged to his toadies, my optic reading lips and providing subtitles for me. He looked like a punk teenager -- light blue hair in a deeply unfortunate haircut that apparently passed for stylish, scrawny but tall in a way that made him all elbows and knees. Instead of going out to do whatever they did out in the city, Katsuo brought three friends to his mansion to show off. 

The garage opened. I couldn’t see it from my angle, but I could see their reactions. The highschool corpos-to-be knew instantly what they were looking at, and they hammed up their reactions. Katsuo preened like a peacock before answering one of their questions. “That's right! Only ten of them exist! I hired a dumbass merc to klep it for me.” 

Well then. I was rethinking my stance on killing him. 

“That's nova! Totally nova! Do… Do you think we could take it for a spin?” One of the toadies asked, making Katsuo gawf. 

“I didn't bring you here to gawk, did I? Course we're taking it for a spin!” Katsuo replied, and that was exactly what I wanted to hear. Breaking down my setup, I left behind a number of foils belonging to XXXL beef burritos and made my way to their inevitable destination. 

There weren’t a lot of places that fit the bill for what Katsuo was looking for. Someplace private, so people wouldn't see the V-Tech, and it wouldn't be connected to him. As well as having the space necessary to get the full feel of the V-Tech, which required flat land and wide open spaces. 

Really, there was only one option. The old airport outside of Night City. Though these days it was more of a ruin with an airstrip. 

It had taken me a day to get used to my reflexes, something Vik found a bit surprising when I went in for my check-up. It came back all clear with the tech settling in like a dream. A good thing, too, because navigating Night City without being tapped into the Net was a nightmare. It just wasn't built for people without a connection in mind, and it showed. 

I made do. Making my way out of the building and heading to a car I stole and left outside. My route was already planned, and I hurried along, knowing that I had to beat them there if I had any chance of pulling this off. Three days was plenty of time for dry runs, after all. 

Every action was rehearsed. I sped through the route, leaving Night City in my rearview mirror, and headed to the bombed-out ruins of what had been an airport. It had already been abandoned in favor of Morro Rock, but it served as a base during the Unification War a few years ago. Now it was entirely abandoned -- too far from Night City to use as a gang hideout, but too close for Nomads or Raffen Shiv. 

Pulling off the road, I hoofed it the last third of the way. I couldn’t have any traces of my presence at the airfield, and a car would be a cause of suspicion on an abandoned airstrip. Thankfully, Rocinante had been in decent shape, so the jog wasn't too bad. 

As one would expect, a bombed-out ruin had plenty of hiding spaces. The one I chose was towards the back of the building, where it was half collapsed from a bomb dropped half a decade ago. Everything was covered in layers of dust and sand when I squeezed myself into my chosen hiding spot, my clothes colored to help me blend into the ruins. 

I hadn’t realized how quiet it was until I buckled in to wait for my quarry to arrive. Or how much ambient noise I’d already adapted to in Night City. There were no gunshots. No sounds of cars honking or adverts playing. No people shouting over each other to be heard, or having thousands of conversations that blurred together until it became just pure noise. 

It was weird. I wasn't sure if I liked the quiet. 

For better or worse, that silence didn't last long. Within fifteen minutes, the sound of a tired old engine echoed out. Closing my eyes, I waited. I couldn't see where it was. Not from my angle. Patience was key. So, I waited. 

The engine came to a stop, and faint sounds of excitement echoed. As did the sound of a roll-up door being slammed open. 

Then there was the sound of an engine. It was quieter than I expected when it came to life. The V-Tech let out a gentle purr at first, rolling out the back of the transport truck. There was a long few seconds of silence- Then it roared, the sound echoing out clearly from where I was tucked away. 

Still, I waited. Long enough for the roar of the engine to become a distant echo and for it to come roaring back, much to the excitement of the teenagers. It was only when I heard the engine growing distant once more that I began to move. Slowly. Patiently. Long enough that the boys and, more importantly, the bodyguard were convinced that they were alone. That they were safe. 

Rounding the building, I caught sight of the group for the first time. They gathered at the end of the runway, watching the V-Tech itself. I, unfortunately, had my eyes on a different vehicle. The transport truck that brought it here. It was completely nondescript, an old junker that no one would give a second glance at. Perfect for discreetly transporting a car worth fifteen million eddies. 

It had cameras on the front and back, forcing me to approach from the side in a narrow cone. I’d practiced extensively, but doing it for real was very different. They’d parked the truck near the building, which was a relief, yet I still had to expose myself on open ground. With every step, I expected to get caught. 

All it would take is for one of the kids to turn around at an ill-timed moment. For Tagashi to hear my heart pounding over the sound of the engine. But I crossed the distance to the truck without any issue, opening the door smoothly and sliding into the front seat. 

Underneath the steering wheel, I slid in a shard. 

Even fifty years in a distorted future, one adage remained true -- cybersecurity was only as strong as the weakest link. And that link in this case was the truck. Pulling out my jack, I connected my systems to the cyberdeck, which in turn was connected to the truck. Its security was trash. Massively outdated. Had the structural integrity of a wet paper bag. 

It took me less than a second to breach its systems to the deepest level, partly because I had been practicing. Full control over the autodrive, cameras, GPS, and tracking features. That chip under the steering wheel would make sure I kept that control. 

Glancing in the rearview mirrors, I saw Katsuo getting out of the driver's seat of the V-Tech. He was all smiles, his friends whooping with exaggerated joy. I couldn’t deny that it stirred something in me. Rocinate had died for that punk to have bragging rights. Just as this was the perfect opportunity to steal the V-Tech, it was also an opportunity to kill them all. 

Drop the bodyguard first. Then drop the kids. Wouldn’t take more than ten seconds. Double and triple tap to make sure Trauma Team wouldn’t be able to bring them back. Grab the car, drive away. It was about as ideal an opportunity as I was going to get. 

All the same, I waited until the next punk was in the V-Tech, their eyes affixed on the speeding car’s rear lights, before I slipped from the truck. Faster this time, I slipped back to the building, retreating to the hiding spot. It felt like a waste. I could admit that much. 

But to kill Tagashi and Katsuo here and now, I would need to murder three other teenagers. Maybe they had it coming. I doubted that Katsuo was a special brand of psychopath. He was probably the bog standard for a corpo kid. But I didn’t know that, and I wasn’t going to put down three teenagers just to get to those two. 

If they were alone, though?

I had to wonder if I would have so much restraint. 

They lingered on the track for over an hour, each of them taking turns behind the wheel. All the while, the punks fluffed up Katsuo, telling him how cool he was, and yada yada yada. The enthusiasm began to wane all the same, and they set about loading the V-Tech. With a sputter, the transport truck came to life, and I listened for it to retreat off into the distance. I waited another thirty minutes in the hole before I crawled out. 

That was phase one done. 

Climbing back into my car after a quick jog, I made my way to Charter Hill. And it was, perhaps, the greatest testament to the disparity between the haves and the have nots. Like the name implied, it was located on a long rolling hill that framed one part of Night City, but where as there was nothing but sandy dirt in every direction outside of the City of Dreams, Charter Hill was covered in grass. Lush green trees offered plenty of shade on the scenic drive, while the ground was eat-off–the-floor clean.

Just to enter the district, you had to pass through an automated gate. Once you were past it, there were long winding roads that led to various mansions. One of which was my target. 

I knew the way after a dozen playthroughs. I knew the security, too. Where the cameras were, the security drone patrols. I knew the best ways to get into the district, even if it had changed a little bit from my playthroughs. That being said, it was a bit difficult to follow the optimal paths without a double jump and airdash. 

Again, patience was imperative. I climbed up all the right paths, avoided any and all security, until I arrived at my destination in the late afternoon. The Tanaka mansion. 

At the gate, I went right, continuing on until I reached a graffitied dick. Just past it, there was an outcropping that went halfway up the eight-foot-tall stone wall around the mansion. Climbing on it, with a running jump, I cleared the top of the wall and landed inside the compound. The security cameras had no idea I was there, and by the time they swept over where I’d landed, I was already gone. 

I crouched low, moved fast, banking right alongside the security camera, just outside of its range, towards the garage. Though calling it a garage was something of an understatement. It ran beneath the mansion itself, more in line with a car park, but through the concrete, I had enough of an angle. 

Every security system was designed around keeping people out. Once you were inside, it was relatively simple to leave. 

My optic came to life, displaying the interior of the car lot. Or, rather, the half dozen expensive cars -- a Quadra Turbo, Rayfield Aerondight, Herrera Riptide "Terrier", and Yaiba Semimaru that I could see with ease. Through my Cyberdeck connection, I pinged the garage door sensors. Even though there was no one around, the sound of the garage opening felt like something the entire city could hear. 

I was moving even as it opened, dropping down from above to avoid another security camera, and slipping by another. All the while, I activated my remote control over the transport truck, pulling it forward from where it was parked, so it would cover my entrance for me.  

Inside the garage itself, I had to swallow down a whistle at the sight. There were six cars, two rows of three, and they were luxury cars one and all. The V-Tech was already inside the transporter and I-

This time. 

The words just registered with me. 

This time. 

‘I'm standing in a graveyard,’ I realized, my guts curling into knots. Sato Tanaka didn't live here. Katsuo did. If Sato did live in the mansion, then the security would have been buffed up massively -- armed personnel, maybe a netrunner in a guest bedroom. Not just cameras and sensors. Unless Sato gave his son an unlimited allowance, there was no way in hell that Katsuo had paid for all these cars. 

There was at least half a hundred million eddies in this garage. 

Rocinante wasn't the first mercenary with eyes bigger than his stomach that Katsuo had taken advantage of. I wasn't sure why it never occurred to me in the first place. Rocinante wasn't the first. He probably wasn't the second or third or even the fourth. 

“... Fuck it.” Oh, this was a bad idea. I knew that even before I opened my bag, grabbing the hologram emitters. But I was still doing it. Killing Katsuo was still out of the cards, but there wasn't a chance in hell that I would let him keep the spoils. The cars were coming with me. 

All of them. 

Breach hit the Yaiba Semimaru first. The security on the car was far beefier than any I hit on my practice runs. Anger gave me a clarity of focus unlike anything I had ever experienced before, and despite the increased security, I found myself tearing through it even as I placed the hologram projectors. 

The alarm was killed first. Then access to the car's systems. The tracker was last. 

Every second I spent in the garage was too long. The plan called for me to do this on the road, trusting the truck's autodriver while I prepped the V-Tech. I was supposed to be inside the mansion for less than a minute. Thirty seconds, optimally. That plan went right out the window, leaving me to adapt the plan to a far bigger heist. 

I didn’t have enough hologram emitters for every car. I had accidentally bought too many, but not by that much. The V-Tech wouldn’t need them -- it would be covered by the transporter. The other six… I had enough for four of them, meaning two would have to go naked. That meant they were going to be easy to trace using the same method I used -- hire a netrunner and follow the cars through camera footage. That wasn't avoidable. However, I’d done my prep work. I’d mapped out and planned around the cameras, wanting to be seen as little as possible. I had about four routes I could take that would minimize exposure. 

Thirty seconds turned into fifteen minutes. Too long. Far too long. Even if I knew logically that Katsuo and Tagashi wouldn't be back for another four hours, at least. But there was a whisper in the back of my mind that they had already deviated from the pattern once. What was stopping them from doing it again? 

Hacking each car felt painfully slow. All the more so when I expected Arasaka Ninjas to drop from the ceiling or something any moment. Yet, despite my urgency, nothing happened as I blitzed past the security of each car.

Throwing myself into the driver's seat of the truck, I gave every car a route and destination through their autodrive function before pressing my foot on the gas. The truck lurched forward, serving as the head of the convoy. There was no hiding our departure. That was entirely unavoidable, short of hacking the mansion's security. And I didn't feel like I was up for that challenge just yet. 

The gate’s automatic sensor worked in our favor, sliding open and just letting us drive by. Even when we passed the gate, hitting the open road, I didn’t relax. I couldn't. It felt like something was waiting for me to drop my guard, or I was about to drive into an ambush. 

Only the ambush never came, even when the convoy of cars broke up amongst the four prepared routes. I genuinely had no idea if all of them would make it to the destination I gave them. But, so long as they weren't in that punk's hands, I would call that a win. 

Leaving Charter Hill behind us, since I wasn't able to put any hologram emitters on the V-Tech, I waited until we were at the edge of Night City before I pulled the truck over. With a mental command, I opened up the back and dropped the tracks. Climbing out, the V-Tech reversed itself out of the transport truck. 

“I suppose if you had to die over a car, this ain't a bad one,” I mused, ghosting a hand over the body. It really was a beautiful car. Sharp angles, black and bronzed gold… Opening the door, I slid into the driver's seat. It felt good to be behind the wheel. Better when I got on the road. 

The engine was powerful, and it wasn't just a streetcar. The moment it sensed us going off-road to our destination, it switched modes, and the ride felt smooth as butter despite driving over a road that was more pot holes than dirt. 

There was exactly one place that had come to mind when I went looking for a place to stash the car. Now cars. A small cavern just outside of Rocky Ridge, the abandoned town where Panam and V would get the drop on some Wraiths to get her car back. It would one day serve as the stronghold of Nash, but today, it served as mine. 

The sun dipped below the horizon by the time I arrived at the cave. It was pitch black, the only real source of light being Night City in the distance, but I let my optic guide me home inside before I dared to turn on my headlights. When I did, that's when I saw it. 

Six luxury cars had beaten me here because they took the shorter routes. 

Coming to a stop, I got out of the car and just took a moment to drink in the sight. Though now that I was looking at them… “What do I do now?” I muttered, running a hand through my hair, killing the engine. 

I didn't really think past stealing the V-Tech. It, I figured, I could sit on for a spell before either selling it or claiming it. Seven high-end cars? Several of them collector vehicles? That was a very different beast. Wasn’t like I could just leave them here either. I had no idea when Nash would find this place, and I didn’t want the cars to go from one piece of scum to another. 

“I wonder if Muamar Reyes is in action yet?” I muttered, my gaze lingering on the vehicles one last time before I turned away. The El Capitán, who had a problematic personality but a heart of gold. Failing that, I could try my luck in Dogtown. Though that felt like drinking from a poisoned chalice. 

Reaching the end of the cave, I took a moment to admire Night City from afar. Despite being rotten to the core, a monument to corruption and profiting from human suffering, it really was a beautiful city. Alluring. 

“Maybe I am cut out for this mercenary stuff,” I muttered, standing there for a long minute, just drinking in the sight. I didn’t even mind the quiet, now that it didn’t come with the anticipation of immediate discovery followed by fatal consequences. 

Almost in response to my thoughts, there was a noise that cut across the clearing. A small ‘phump’ that had me convinced down to the fabric of my soul that Adam Smasher had just landed right behind me with the intent of pulling my asshole through my throat. That would have made sense, at least. 

Far more so than a light blue portal opening up about a dozen feet before me before two figures dove from it, landing in the ground and scrambling to their feet as the portal closed behind them. A man and a woman. The woman wore a white blouse, form-fitting trousers, and a sword hanging from one shoulder. Her white hair was pulled up in a disheveled braid. 

The man… the man had pointy ears. An elf. That man was an elf. 

“Wh-where are we?” The woman asked, heedless of my presence. Her tone was a tightly wound chord of panic on the verge of breaking. Her gloved hand gripped the sword over her shoulder, ready to bear it in an instant. 

“Be at ease, Ciri,” the elf replied. I took in a slow breath, the reality of the situation washing over me. I… suppose it wasn’t any more impossible than getting dropped in Cyberpunk, now was it? “We are… hm, we are safe here. To a degree. Magic has fled this world, leaving behind only a strangled gasp left. Eredin will find this world eventually, but it will take time.”

Ciri. Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, the defunct princess of Cintra, adopted daughter of Geralt of Rivia and Yennefer of Vengerberg. Avallac'h, an elven mage who was as powerful as he was sketchy. And he was very, very, very sketchy. 

I knew that they spent some time in Cyberpunk based on a teaser in Witcher 3. What I didn’t expect was for them to practically drop into my lap immediately after I performed the heist of the century by the seat of my pants.

“That’s good. That’s good, right? We’re safe here… wherever here is,” Ciri muttered, casting her gaze off to Night City. I could hear the breath get lodged in her throat. “What- what is that?” 

“That,” I announced myself, making the pair react instantly. Ciri drew her sword, settling in a stance while mystical energy swirled around Avallac'h’s hands. Ciri met my gaze, her green eyes practically glowing in the low light, but she seemed more confused by my presence than anything. “Is Night City. The City of Dreams, even if it’s where most dreams go to die.”

Ciri wavered when I answered her question without reacting to their aggressive reaction. “Who are you?”

I took in a slow breath before I chuckled. 

“Rocinante Alphonse Donquixote. Mercenary. And from the sounds of things, you two seem to be in the market for one.”

…

Quadra Thunder-X

Turbo-R V-Tech

Rayfield Aerondight

Rayfield Caliburn

Yaiba Semimaru

Herrera Outlaw GTS

Herrera Riptide "Terrier"