Friday Night Firefight: A Cyberpunk Isekai

Five days. It took Night City five days to patch up what I broke. Five days for them to flip the power back on and get everything back to some semblance of normality.

But during those five days, it was a special kind of hell that hit Night City.

When the blackout first hit, most people – at least those not rioting or looting - didn’t think much of it. A couple hours, maybe half a day without power – just a minor inconvenience in a city filled with major ones. No big deal. But as the hours stretched into days, reality started sinking in and people started losing it. Fast.

By the time the first night rolled around, Night City had turned into even more of a dystopian nightmare than it normally was. The only light in the city came from the occasional fires that burned across the city – either cars torched by bored gangoons, storefronts looted and then set ablaze, or entire buildings swallowed by flames lit by people who just wanted to watch the world burn. It wasn’t just dark in the city. It was pitch black.

The hospitals tried to hold it together. Backup generators kicked in, keeping life support systems running and the lights on. But those generators weren’t meant to run for days on end. By the third day, they were failing and sputtering out one by one. Word spread that they had to bring in more from outside the city. I watched as convoys of Nomads – Snake Nation, Aldecaldos, and Bakkers – rolled into town, guarding the precious generators they were selling to the hospitals.

Then came the comms blackout. Ziggurat, the corp that owned pretty much all of Night City’s net infrastructure, went down hard. The net was dead and it felt like we were cut off from the rest of the world. Sure, internal Agents still worked – they tapped into satellites instead of radio towers – but everything else? Gone. No messages, no data streams, nothing.

And then there was the traffic. The NCART system was offline, leaving trains stranded on the tracks. If you wanted to get around Night City during those five days, your only option was via car. But with the traffic lights out, even driving was a gamble. Every intersection was a free for all. On the best of days, Night City drivers were rage-filled assholes that represented the worst that humanity had to offer. But those five days of blackout were not the best of days.

Businesses were hit hard by the blackout. Restaurants were the first to go. Without power, their refrigeration systems failed, and within hours, all their stock started spoiling. Soon enough, the stink of decay seeped out into the streets and added a new, exciting smell to the already rancid city. By the end of the second day, most places had no choice but to close their doors. The ones that tried to stay open didn’t last long. Desperate people smashed through windows and looted whatever they could carry.

Banks weren’t much better off. With no power, electronic transactions were useless. In a city where almost nobody carried physical eddies, that was a death sentence for businesses. People started panicking when they realized that without the Agents connected to the net, they couldn’t access their bank accounts. I watched as lines formed outside bank branches, filled with people hoping they could con their way into pulling out some cash.

The lack of physical eddies turned a bad situation into a full-blown nightmare. The usual ways of doing business – buying food, paying for a ride, getting a quick fix of meds – didn’t work without power. People without physical eddies had to improvise and they resorted to bartering with whatever they had. I saw people trading weapons, favors, even pieces of their own chrome just to get by.

Looting became the new normal in areas that weren’t under gang control. Assaults, burglaries, and violent crimes all skyrocketed. The city was bleeding from every corner, and the badges couldn’t do a damn thing about it. They were simply stretched too thin.

Pacifica got the worst of it. It had always been teetering on the edge, but the blackout shoved it straight into the abyss. It used to be that the NCPD at least pretended to patrol the area. But as soon as the power went out, they pulled out entirely. Every badge in the neighborhood was reassigned to more ‘strategic’ locations, leaving Pacifica to fend for itself.

The cops were useless, and everyone knew it. The badges were spread so thin they were practically see-through. They could barely contain the riots and looting, let alone maintain any real order. But there was always Maxtac, the elites of the NCPD. Even playing as V, loaded up with a Sandevistan, mantis blades, and enough military tech to take out entire gang strongholds, I always kept my distance from Maxtac.

But even they were getting run into the ground over those five days.

The blackout hit people hard, and it wasn’t just the lack of power that was breaking everyone. Night City was always a shitty place to live. I had come to suspect that most people were dealing with some low-grade PTSD simply from living here. But those five days without power? It pushed people to the edge.

Cyberpsychosis cases exploded across the city. Every day, more people snapped. It was a combination of too much chrome, too much stress, and not enough sanity to hold it all together. Maxtac was doing what it could, but even they were cracking under the strain. It felt like every hour, new reports of cyberpsychos were coming in. For every psycho Maxtac locked away, two more popped up.

And then there were the riots. People were furious. People were desperate. People wanted someone to blame, and they didn’t have to look very far. Politicians and badges became easy targets. The usual apathy people had for authority in Night City turned into full blown hatred. Politicians couldn’t step into their own districts without armed guards, and even then, they were taking their lives into their hands.

Well, most of them were. Brad Norwood was the only city council candidate we were backing who was actually in office during the blackout. While he did catch his own share of outrage, he had it easier compared to most of the rest of the politicians. All three of the candidates we backed had hired The Pack, and we had armed gangs stepping up to protect their voting districts from the worst of the chaos.

While the rest of Night City was spiraling into chaos, those districts were protected. The Pack’s armed patrols kept the streets relatively safe, and the voters took notice. They realized they were better off than most and knew exactly who to thank for it. Deng, Diego, and Zion led armed crews to patrol the territory. And Anna, with her experience as a beat cop, was crucial in turning our crews into well-oiled machines.

Every armed group we had patrolling the streets was joined by someone from the campaigns we were backing. They were street-level operators who made sure that everyone knew that the security wasn’t coming from the government or the cops. It was all paid for by the candidates themselves.

Eva Cole and Emilio Gutierrez weren’t quiet during the blackout. They were lobbing political hand grenades at their opponents, accusing them of failing to protect the people and not restoring the power. Every attack or robbery or mugging in a neighboring district was like adding fuel to the fire and let our three candidates paint their opponents as weak and ineffectual.

But in the end, the real winners of the blackout were the gangs. With the cops completely useless and the city’s infrastructure in tatters, the gangs stepped in and filled the void. The Valentinos were the first to act, thanks to a heads-up from El Sombreron. He’d known something big was coming when I’d told him I’d be busting Dario out of prison. While everyone else was still scrambling in the early hours of the blackout, the Valentinos were already organized. They took charge in Heywood and Santo Domingo and set up patrols to make sure their streets were safe.

The Tyger Claws did something similar in Kabuki and Westbrook. But they also made a sizeable profit from the blackout. They started demanding protection money from businesses and then made brutal examples of any looters who tried to mess with their turf. They also took over most of the barter markets, trading food and water for weapons, chrome, and anything else people could scrounge up.

Then there was Maelstrom. Those chromed up psychos didn’t care about anyone or anything. They were a whole other level of chaos in the city. North Watson had been a hellhole even before the blackout. But after? It was like someone had thrown open the gates of hell.

Maelstrom thrived in the anarchy, ripping through the streets like rabid animals. If anything, they made North Watson even more dangerous. People that were stuck in the area lived in a nightmare. There were only a few places in North Watson that offered any kind of safety: the homeless camps.

Deng, Fred, and Mor had stepped up and recruited a solid group of people to guard the camps in North Watson. The Pack didn’t just survive the blackout. We thrived in it. Who else in the city had experience living without electricity? Who else knew the dark corners of the streets and knew how to protect yourself against everyone who wanted to rob you? We protected our people and our turf and, in the process, grew stronger and more organized. Albert managed to grab a couple former corpo soldiers as well as mercs who never made the jump to the big leagues. Fred, Mor and John managed to recruit most of the rest of the homeless in Watson and a few other neighborhoods.

We weren’t a random gang in the city; we were the ones who kept people alive through those five days of madness. The city was bleeding, and we knew how to dress the wound and keep it from getting infected.

When the city finally managed to get the power back on, you could almost feel the collective sigh of relief. Neon signs flickered back to life, casting their familiar glow over the streets, and the hum of the city started up again. Night City was crawling back to its version of normal, whatever that meant.

I was at the alcove with Fred, Mor, and the rest of the crew. Lizzie’s was booming, packed wall-to-wall with people desperate to blow off steam after five days of pure hell. The music pounded through the walls, and the line to get in stretched around the block. It was like the entire city had come out to drown its sorrows in booze, braindances, and bad decisions.

I spent a few hours hanging out and catching up with everyone. Fred and Mor were happy and relieved I came out of the blackout in one piece. Despite their teasing of my past screw-ups and comparing them to all the crazy shit I’d been doing lately, there was a hint of pride on their faces.

John was…normal. At least, I thought he looked that way. Cyndi had told me he was ecstatic with how much we all earned by working with the campaigns. He was still going through the numbers and she said she’d caught him muttering to himself every now and then, lost in all the data that comes with running a minor criminal organization like The Pack.

But Anna was different. She was hanging back, quieter than usual. She’d been a beast during the blackout, hunting down escaped prisoners and organizing our patrols. But everything we’d done – engineering the prison break, triggering the blackout, taking out a host of unarmed inmates – I could tell was getting to her.

The old cop in her, the part that joined the force because she genuinely believed she could make a difference, was at odds with what we’d just pulled off. Anna wasn’t naïve to the realities of Night City anymore. But seeing it all burn and knowing that we’d lit the match, had hit her hard.

“You alright?” I asked her, stepping away from the noise and chaos of the alcove for a moment.

She nodded, but it was slow and almost reluctant. “You know, I used to believe in the NCPD,” she said quietly. “Thought I could change things from the inside. But it’s like trying to clean up a shit stain with a dirty rag. No matter how hard you scrub, you’re still left with a mess.”

She looked at me, a frown creasing her brow. “But what we did...seeing those prisoners out on the streets, knowing what some of them are capable of? I can’t shake the feelings that we just made things worse.”

“You think we made a mistake?” I asked.

She didn’t answer right away. Finally, she sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe we were right. I mean, yea, we protected our own. And I still think we’ve done more good than I ever did while wearing a badge. But the cost…it’s higher than I thought it’d be.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. I justified everything I’d done in the name of survival. I was trying to make sure that Fred and Mor and Deng and all the rest of the crew was able to survive in Night City. But at what point does survival look like something else?

Before I could say anything more, a text splashed across my vision, pulling my attention away. The message was from an unregistered number and it was four simple words: stop by the Afterlife.

My heart skipped a beat. Oh shit. Ooohhh shit.

Rogue.

It had to be. You didn’t just waltz into the Afterlife like it was any other bar. The place was legendary, a haven for Night City’s most dangerous mercs and solos. They had guards at the entrance to keep out anyone who didn’t belong. This was the bar for mercs in Night city, and it was run by the queen of fixers herself: Rogue Amendiares.

I turned to Fred, who was deep in conversation with Zion. “Something’s come up. I gotta head over to the Afterlife.”

At the mention of Night City’s most infamous solo bar, the chatter around me died instantly. Deng looked at me with a glint of pride in his eyes. Diego cracked a wide grin and gave me a nod of approval. Mor patted me on the back.

I left the alcove and got on my Kusanagi and rode towards south Watson and the Afterlife.

&&&

Pulling up to the Afterlife, I couldn’t help but feel a little giddy. This was The Afterlife. I parked my Kusanagi next to Rogue’s unmistakable green Quadra and floated my way to the entrance of the bar.

The place was buzzing and almost as packed as Lizzie’s, which was saying something considering the Afterlife catered exclusively to the best mercs and their crews. It was a place where deals were made and legends were born.

Emmerick, the hulking figure guarding the door, stepped forward to block my path. He didn’t say a word, just gave me a quick scan with his cybernetic eyes. Whatever he saw must’ve checked out, because he nodded and waved me in without a word. As I stepped inside, the heavy bass of the music hit my like a physical force. I couldn’t help but think of Jackie and his reverence for the bar, and I muttered to myself. “Welcome to the big leagues.”

The place was alive, and I couldn’t decided where to look first. Chromed-up dancers floated in those clear tubed that dotted the floor of the place, their bodies moving in sync with the music. Behind the bar, Claire was serving drinks, a smile on her face as she poured out shots for a couple mercs. I couldn’t help but wonder if her husband was still alive, racing in those illegal street races.

I scanned the bar, half-hoping to catch a glimpse of someone I knew from the game or the anime – maybe Maine, Rebecca, or even David. V and Jackie wouldn’t be here. It wasn’t time for the Konpeki Plaza heist yet. At least…I didn’t think it was. There wasn’t anyone else I recognized in the place. Instead, my eyes were drawn to the left, to the reason I was here: Rogue. The queen bitch of the Afterlife.

She must’ve clocked me the moment I walked in. With all the security cameras covering every inch of the place, it was likely she’d been watching my every move. When our eyes met, she motioned for me to join her at her usual booth. I calmly made my way across the bar towards her booth, but on the inside I was like a kid buzzing with anticipation.

I slid onto the bench next to Rogue, and she looked me dead in the eyes, a grin spreading across her face. “Damn, kid. I heard you were young, but sitting next to you makes me feel positively ancient.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I always wanted to be an archaeologist, so I’m comfortable dealing with old fossils.” I don’t know where that came from and was slightly terrified that I’d offended her, but a split-second later Rogue laughed and I felt my asshole unpucker.

Claire appeared out of nowhere, setting down a bottle of whisky and two rocks glasses. Rogue poured us both a drink, and we toasted. As I brought the glass to my lips, Rogue leaned in and said, “Next time you plan on engineering a prison riot and city-wide blackout, do me a favor and give me a heads-up.”

I choked on my drink, caught completely off guard. “I knew fixers never keep quiet,” I muttered, trying to regain my composure.

She smirked. “Don’t go blaming your fixers. El Capitan was nosing around for some ancient…simulation software or something. I didn’t even know what it was until my netrunner clued me in. He’s impressed with what you pulled off, by the way. But something that old and unique? It was bound to leave a trail. It was only a matter of time before some like me pieced it all together.”

I felt my stomach twist. If she could figure it out, what about Arasaka and Militech? Were they onto me too?

“I’m curious though,” she continued, her tone almost casual, “how did you breach the security at both the prison and the power plant? You had to have inside help, right?”

I tried not to let my relief show. She didn’t know about my face implant. Experimental tech like that would have seen her have me carved up in no time. “Had some help, yea,” I said vaguely. “Anyone’ll help if you toss enough eddies their way.”

She nodded, her expression unreadable. “And the SCADA system? Nix, my netrunner, says it’s meant to control large buildings. He’s curious how you managed to brick the whole thing though.”

I didn’t like giving away information but…this was Rogue. A good relationship with her might be worth me bragging a bit on my end. “It was a one-use trick. Found an old C-to-assembly compiler in some dusty corner of a library. Wrote code in an ancient language the power plant’s SCADA system still used.”

Rogue just sat back. “Gotta say, netrunning’s always sounded like a foreign language to me. But if Nix is impressed, so am I.”

I leaned forward slightly, setting my glass of whisky on the table. “So, how does this work? Do you call me up when you’ve got a gig or something?”

She leaned back, as if surprised by the question. “You want a gig?”

“I mean, isn’t that what you do here? You’re the queen of the Afterlife. Everyone here is waiting for you to crook a finger so they can rush over and do your bidding.”

She laughed at that and shook her head. “No, I’m not here to offer you a gig. Would you take one if I did? From what I hear, Regina’s been trying to get you on her roster for ages, but you keep blowing her off.”

“So, what then?”

She downed her whisky and set the glass down with a clink. “Only three groups came out of the blackout significantly stronger. Militech got a bunch of corps to sign some security deals. They were all scared shitless by the looting and are gonna pay through the nose for Militech security. They just moved in a bunch of troops into the city and are probably gonna make a play to build a more permanent base for themselves. Arasaka also gained. People are pissed at the NCPD for being toothless during the blackout, so Arasaka stepped in.”

She poured us another round before corking the bottle. “This info isn’t public yet, but Arasaka signed a deal with the NCPD to provide a bunch of their R Mk.2 units to the city. Rumor has it that half the NCPD’s gonna get laid off in the next few weeks and most badges are gonna be paired up with a robot.”

That was gold. My mind was already racing with the possibilities of a bunch of out-of-work cops and how it could play out to my advantage. The first thing I needed to do was talk with Anna to get her take on it.

“The third group that came out stronger? A small, unknown gang operating out of Watson. Calls themselves The Pack. You’ve gotta know that gangs usually have fixers working with them. Padre’s got ties with the Valentinos, Wakako’s got the Tyger Claws, and even Hands is trying to cozy up to Barghest down in Dogtown.” She finished her drink and set the glass down. “Me? I don’t typically deal with gangs. Plus, nobody truly knows who runs this new gang. I run the After life and work with the best mercs around. But I wanted to introduce myself to an…up and comer. A merc who might be interested in keeping a line of dialogue open.”

“It’s not really my gang,” I said lamely.

Rogue didn’t say anything, just gave a disapproving tilt of the head. When she finally spoke, she sounded like a teacher schooling a kid who’d just said something dumb.

“You’ve got a lot of eyes on you now. People are watching to see what you do next. You need some mercs for a job, as long as it doesn’t conflict with me and mine, give me a call.” She said it casually, like she was offering me a business card, but I knew better. This was Rogue extending a hand and opening a door. It wasn’t an offer she was making lightly.

“Appreciate it.”

“Don’t waste the opportunity. And don’t let me find out about five days of blackness the moment it happens next time. I’d appreciate a heads up.”

She did something with her body language that let me know our conversation was over, so I stood and left the booth. The noise of the bar seemed to come rushing back to me, but my mind was spinning from everything she’d said.

“Well…shit,” I muttered as I left the Afterlife.