Cyberpunk 2077: Demons of Night City

Sensing danger, I immediately sent a signal to mercs, but the countdown was in seconds. Sure, the Claws were under Arasaka, but today, we were enemies.
Try to take control of Jimmy? Slip into his skin? Might not work. The viral chip disabled even his basic motor functions. I've never tried controlling bodies like that. And if I pull the chip out, his ICE will activate. I'd have to connect through the port first and... there's no time!
The Claws were closing in from the direction I came from. A light flashed. Even in the dark, hiding was no longer an option.
With all the speed I could muster, I slashed Becca's straps in four quick strokes. The little one immediately jumped at me with an agility I hadn't seen before, dragging me to the side and yanking a Pulsar from my shoulder.
The Claws had already spotted Jimmy's body on the floor. Japanese curses echoed. At least seven of them. Shit. If my guys don't get here in time…
It began!
One of the Claws blurred into motion. I bolted to the side, triggering Kereznikov. The red-green blur turned back into a person — a skinny yakuza with two pistols. In his left, a standard Unity, and in his right, where he had a smart-link implant, he held an A-22B Chao. The Chinese smart gun was painted pink, looking more like a toy than a weapon.
So he's going to shoot regular rounds with his left, and smart bullets from his right, barely needing to aim — probably right at my head.
I immediately hit him with an essence tear while trying to line up my Kenshin. But aiming was tough. The opponent was using Sandevistan. In our slowed down version of reality, he moved almost normally, while my hands lagged behind.
One, two, three.
The smart bullets from the Chao hit my helmet. At the same time, a round from the Unity struck my armor. I was hopelessly behind. My first shot at the fucker missed by nearly a meter.
I was falling to the side, trying to roll behind a shelf before Kereznikov ran out.
The seconds dragged on.
One, two, three.
My helmet held against the Chao bullets, trying to bore into my skull.
I stretched out my arm... and hit him. My second shot grazed his cheek.
Time snapped back to normal. I hit the floor, and the guy grinned through his red-tinted glasses—until he screamed. Welcome to the execution.
An invisible virtual tendril tore out a fragment of his personality, disrupting his cognitive structures. Pain, fear, more bullets from a submachine gun.
Rebecca sprayed a burst at his face. His glasses shattered. I followed up with a synapse burnout while desperately trying to shoot with my Kenshin. I fired wildly. The silhouettes of Claws blurred before my eyes. I threw a memory-wiping quickhack at one wielding a submachine gun, infecting the entire memory deck.
Every fraction of a second in this intense firefight, a small part of my mind kept asking, 'Still alive?!'
Rebecca was pulling attention from the enemies, moving and firing like she had boundless energy. Meanwhile, I had to focus on my deck.
I hit the ground at the start, and some of them must've thought I was dead. But I wasn't playing dead—I was just trying to keep up with the mess.
If only I could toss a grenade, but I was lying on them. I had to roll over to reach them, but there was no space to do so.
Another stray bullet scorched my ribs under the armor. I fired my Kenshin while simultaneously ripping out more souls. Several opponents were already starting to buckle under the infection. The malicious script was causing their life support implants to malfunction. Their organs were poisoning themselves.
However, it seemed like the party was nearing its end. Three more fighters joined the Claws, replacing the four we had killed. An ugly yakuza with a dragon print on his shirt was already holding a grenade and…
Boom!
The grenade exploded right in his hand. His arm was gone, along with part of his head.
In the doorway on the other side of the hall stood Miriam Levy. The mercenary held a Nue pistol. She had hit the grenade. What a trick! But the tricks were only just beginning.
Miriam dropped her gun to the floor, and before it hit the ground, she disappeared, turning into a living whirlwind. Desperate screams of the Japanese echoed. Miriam exited the Sandevistan at the other end of the hall. Mantis blades unfolded on her arms, dripping with blood. Four of the Claws were now in a partially or fully dismembered state. The remaining few yakuza were gunned down by Els with his heavy revolver. Two shots, two bodies.
It seemed quiet for a moment. Rebecca aimed her gun at the mercenaries, and they aimed at her.
"Wait," I groaned through the pain. "They're with me. And she is too."
It wasn't very eloquent, but everyone understood.
Just then, another Claw entered, leading two bound captives — a young man and woman of Latin appearance.
Seeing the carnage, the gangster began to tremble. He probably thought his team had won, considering how many of them had swarmed in.
The Claw yanked his pistol from its holster, but Els shot off his right hand with precision. The yakuza tried to use his left, but that was immediately shot as well. The gangster screamed. Two more shots rang out. The right and left eyes of the thug turned into bloody craters.
Els spun his revolver cowboy-style, ejecting the empty casings with one smooth motion.
Els spun his revolver, ejecting the empty shells with a flourish. "Style, kids," he smirked, reloading.
"Show-off," Miriam spat.
Els glanced at me. "What's up, Mr. Ninja? Forgot your chakra cloak in the hidden village?"
"Just get out. Wait for me outside," I replied to the mercenaries, sitting down on the floor.
My head pounded from the Kereznikov. My ribs were burning. I checked my armor while Rebecca came over.
"You still breathing, choom?"
"Yeah…" I exhaled.
"You still alive, choom?"
"Yeah…" I exhaled.
Somewhere in the background, the bound captives were moaning and crying. Not my problem right now. The air reeked of blood, gunpowder, and ozone. The last smell was from the heavy use of electromagnetic weapons.
No holes in the armor. Today, I'd worn a vest far stronger than my usual one. Didn't need to hide it under a jacket. I grabbed a military-grade armored vest, with high protection. Rebecca helped me take off my helmet. No major penetrations there either. I'd taken a few fragments from the smart bullets to the face, got hit in the ribs, suffered the Kereznikov backlash, and some desynchronization with my body. The full package, but nothing critical.
I'll take an injection, pop a pill, and I'll be back in business. I pulled out a bottle of pills.
"Need something to wash it down?" Becca asked, leaning over me with her Pulsar.
"Yeah."
She handed me the same "Bolshevik" vodka. A stern Lenin on the label glared at me, as if displeased with the rampant capitalism around.
I shook a pill into my hand, pulled my balaclava up, popped the octagonal pill into my mouth, and immediately took a burning swig of vodka from Rebecca's hand. I almost choked, and...
Choking was out of the question. Something else was added to the vodka-pill combination. A kiss. Long, scorching, and yet subtly sweet from the pill's aftertaste. When Rebecca finally pulled away, I struggled to catch my breath. I was still sitting on the floor, and she was leaning over me. A small pale ghost with reddish eyes.
"'This is me saying thanks," the girl explained her behavior and squeezed my thigh with her small hand under the black cargo pants.
But she had quite the grip. She clearly didn't just get cosmetic implants, or maybe she's been training for a long time.
"Damn, you're soft. Where'd you forget your chrome, choom?" Becca commented cheerfully, groping my leg.
"All here," I grinned, pointing to my head. "Help me up."
"In a hurry, choom?"
"Yeah. Running late for church. Gotta repent my sins before sunrise."
I pulled my balaclava back on. Rebecca handed me the Pulsar, while she picked up something from the Claws. Damn. So much loot lying around, but no strength to gather it, and no time either.
"Grab that Nue for me," I asked the girl.
"On it," she replied, bending over, giving me a rather interesting view of her backside.
If my health were better, and if we had more time... "Alright. Time to delta. Just don't forget anything."
Becca handed me the trophy pistol and helped me get to the car. I settled into the back seat, closed the door, but rolled down the window.
"Are you sure we haven't met before?" Becca asked once again.
Instead of answering out loud, I sent her a message: 'Be careful with Tanaka. He's got some dangerous combat implants. Don't try to intimidate him with a gun. Use scripts or EMP grenades right away.'
This message would erase itself in a few minutes, leaving no trace of the source. Out loud, I said something else, signaling Els to start the engine with a gesture.
"I know your runner. Tell her we'll have a drink when our mutual friend changes careers. Got it?"
"Yeah. Wait!"
The car was already picking up speed with me in the passenger seat.
"Which runner⁈" Becca yelled after us. "Kiwi or Lucy⁈ Fuck, choom! What the hell⁉"
Her voice faded into the foggy night of Night City. The car window rolled up. I felt my body slowly recovering from the ordeal. Damn. Why did Jimmy gather so many Claws? I get two or three—that's enough to bring in prisoners. But... how many were there? Miriam took out four, Becca and I took out four, and Els got three. Eleven! Most of them were just punks with no skills or chrome, but why so many?
But I didn't have the energy to think about it. I slumped in the back seat, still feeling nauseous and the sweet aftertaste of the meds. Even too lazy to give myself another shot.
"You seem completely out of it, mister ninja," Els remarked with a "kind"-mocking tone. "Want me to drop you off at a hospital? Maybe to your therapist? Or just get you a coffee with marshmallows?"
"Coffee, coffee…" I muttered. "Alright. But not coffee, tea. There's a diner not far from here."
"That was a rhetorical question," the man started to protest, but Miriam rasped a laugh.
"Too late, Els. You shouldn't have spoken up," the mercenary said. "Grab me one too."
I handed Els a couple of crumpled bills I'd swiped from Jimmy. Three hundred eddies. He reluctantly took them, sighed, and drove us to the diner.
One more thing to do. One more job on this bloody night.
Half an hour later, after I started feeling better, Els directed the car to an unremarkable house on the outskirts of Kabuki. We stopped in a dead-end between piles of trash and the rusty remains of a car. Steam was rising from the collector's grate to our left, merging with the fog that ruled over the city tonight.
"I hate nights like this, mister ninja," Els noted philosophically, resting his elbows on the steering wheel. "One of those nights where you can die and not even notice it."
I was busy shutting down the street cameras and carefully probing for hidden defenses. There was something. Not the most serious measures, but it took time to disable the simple alarms that would alert the owner about suspicious activity.
The whole process took about twenty minutes. I mapped out my route, swallowed another pill, washing it down with cold tea, making sure not to touch the cup with my lips. No need to leave DNA traces.
"Same situation," I announced, pulling my balaclava back on. "Stay here, and if you get a signal, come pull me out. But this time, I'm sure everything will go smoothly."
I didn't tell them the exact apartment I was going to. The location would show up if I triggered the signal. I grabbed a jammer, some more equipment, and the trophy Nue.
The street greeted me with stifling humid air. I walked unsteadily, feeling my tired heart ache slightly. Tomorrow, I need to sleep, but for now, it's up the stairs into a stranger's apartment.
An old fire escape. Fragile, damn it, and windows all around. The floors crawled by so slowly past my cold hands. But the cursed night covered me with a shroud of fog, and no one noticed the black figure climbing through a window.
Kentaro Okamura wasn't sleeping.
His old two-room apartment looked like a dump. Piles of noodle boxes, pizza boxes, and other fast food delicacies formed mountains almost up to my waist. The same mess was with old equipment and dirty clothes. Paths were worn through the trash from room to room. I followed the light and sound. I activated the jammer, setting it on a broken washing machine next to a couple of empty beer bottles.
Kentaro Okamura, his scoliosis-riddled back bent, sat at the computer, muttering curses because the signal had cut out. Judging by the error message on the screen, he'd been watching some broadcast. The Japanese man frantically pounded the keys, and when it became clear the problem wasn't with the computer, he abruptly stood up, turned to check the rest of his equipment, and froze. Standing behind him was a man in black, aiming a gun right between his eyes.
"I…" the runner stammered, simultaneously trying to scan me, but a masking ICE was already in place.
How quickly would Okamura crack the ICE and figure out who he was dealing with? A minute? Two? Three? The Japanese man tried to stall.
"I… I'll pay you more," he said quietly at first, but then a hysterical note crept into his voice. "Twice as much! Even three times!"
"Okamura…" I said in a metallic voice. "Pay me? You're already deep in the red. Hiring the 6th Street gang should have drained all your savings, right?"
"V, is that… you?" Okamura said, his voice and body trembling.
There wasn't even a trace of the samurai spirit in him.
I nodded silently.
"Wait, listen! I didn't have a choice,' he began to plead, shaking. 'It was all Abernathy. Jenkins gave me a reprimand. The second one this year. She said I'm screwed unless I…"
"Kill me?"
"I didn't want to! Just give me thirty minutes to pack. I'll disappear, I swear! You'll never see me again."
"Disappear? Alright," I replied calmly and pulled the trigger.
The Nue roared twice in the stinking dimness of the runner's apartment.
"Well, now you've disappeared, Okamura. I'll never see you again."
I closed my eyes. With my threads, I touched the corpse, feeling the neurons frantically agonize and die out. I didn't devour him. I'd already eaten recently, and the whole setup with the assassination attempt was pretty clear. Abernathy had privately hinted to this idiot that she'd overlook his screw-ups if I took a bullet to the head. If it had worked, Okamura wouldn't have been celebrating for long either. Unlike him, Abernathy always cleaned up trash. A week, maybe a month, and Okamura would have met the same end, if not worse.
I didn't linger at the runner's place. He didn't have much money, and dragging his junk home was downright dangerous. I wouldn't be surprised if Abernathy initiated a secret search of my place by CorpSec, and if they found any evidence, she'd launch an investigation.
Really, I should rent a safe deposit box with cash in some bank unconnected to the corp and move all the most valuable and incriminating stuff there.
After cleaning up potential evidence, I left the crime scene. Time to let the mercenaries go and head home.
Still, I didn't regret shelling out for that flashy pair from Afterlife. Otherwise, that crowd of Yakuza, who had shown up for some reason at Jimmy Kurosaki's studio, could have riddled me, even with Rebecca's help.
You should never skimp on your own safety. That'll be the opening line of my next lecture at the Academy—if they invite me again. Though I doubt it. Tanaka may soon bite the dust.
I got the answer to why there were so many Claws at Jimmy Kurosaki's studio when I started going through his last messages in the morning. Among them was one titled "Script: The Shamed Doves." The message began like this:
"Akiyo, catch a couple of pretty ones in Vista del Rey and bring eight guys with you. Come closer to the night tomorrow. If I'm not back from the restaurant yet, go through the back door. I'll send you the key to the security system. 
The idea is: we sit the lovebirds opposite each other and first offer the guy to choose which one of them we'll fuck—him or her. But the catch, of course, is that we'll end up fucking both of them. We'll start with…" 
What followed was a long and juicy description in typical porn terms. It listed the devices and tortures, starting with those relatively safe for health and progressing to increasingly harsh ones. Then Jimmy planned to make one of them torture the other. It would have turned into almost an "adaptation" of the song Two Friends and Robbers, just with much more refined violence. 
I didn't finish reading this shit. The overall message was clear to me. So, those assholes were headed for a porn shoot, and we gave them a bloody action instead. Serves them right. And for me, it's a new day, new evil deeds.