Friday Night Firefight: A Cyberpunk Isekai

We rolled to a stop just shy of the “Italian” joint that fronted our casino – a place that barely passed for a restaurant. It served two things: kibble slathered in a red sauce, and kibble slathered in a white sauce. The real reason people went to the restaurant was hidden behind the kitchen and storage rooms, where the casino operated. From where I sat in the front seat of Anna’s Archer Hella, it looked like the casino itself had avoided the worst of the damage. The only thing that was hit was the front entrance. Bullet holes peppered the front façade of the restaurant, and even the shops flanking our little operation hadn’t been spared – windows shattered, entrances riddled with holes, glass crunching under the boots of a few NCPD badges as they picked through the aftermath.

The blood was the first thing that hit me when I got out of Anna’s car. Dark, sticky, smeared across the sidewalk like some grotesque warning. There weren’t any bodies in sight, but there were more than enough bullet casings, pools of blood, and broken glass to paint a clear picture of what went down.

Anna and Cyndi got out beside me, both of them stone-faced, their anger simmering just beneath the surface. Someone had just taken a shot at one of our operations, and Diego had got caught in the crossfire. That alone made it personal.

Across the street, Diego was standing with Zion and Deng, his posture tense but ready. The NCPD was already swarming the place. Because of course they were. When you needed a badge, they were nowhere to be found. But when you wanted them to keep their distance, they had a knack for showing up and sticking their noses in everything. I saw one of the cops trying to get something out of Diego, but Diego wasn’t biting. He had his arms crossed and kept his answers clipped and vague – giving the badge nothing.

I followed Anna as she wove her way through a crowd of curious onlookers who’d gathered. She had her eyes set on one officer working the crime scene in particular, a guy who seemed to be running the show. He was tall, with a broad frame and a face that looked like it had seen all the worst that Night City had to offer. When he spotted Anna, his expression shifted – recognition, mixed with a little surprise.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Anna Hamill,” he said, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Didn’t think I’d see you out here without a badge. Heard you left the NCPD. Gotta say, that surprised me. You…working for some private outfit now?” His eyes flicked to me for a brief moment before returning to Anna, like he already knew the answer.

Anna shrugged, brushing off the comment. “You know how it goes. I liked the badge, but the badge didn’t like me back. I’ve been doing other things now.”

The cop – Mallory, by the name stitched on his vest – arched an eyebrow, amusement flashing across his face. “Yea, I heard a bit about the things you’ve been up to. Got people talking. Not sure if that’s good for you.” He leaned in a bit, lowering his voice. “So, what is this? Start of a gang war? You and your new crew stirring up shit on my beat?”

Anna shrugged again, not answering his question. “What’d you find?”

Mallory snorted and pulled a cigarette from his pocket before lighting it with a slow, deliberate motion. He took a drag, sizing up Anna before he finally spoke. “Meat wagons scraped three bodies off the street. Two of ‘em were heavy hitters – loaded up with combat gear and decked out in camo with a nice assortment of NUSA flags. Which in this city means…”

“6th Street,” Anna finished, her voice flat.

He nodded, taking another long drag. “Yep. Beyond that, nobody’s talking. We’ve got a handful of witnesses who didn’t witness shit. They’re all saying the same damn thing: ‘Sorry officer, didn’t see nothin’.’” He mimicked the usual Night City line, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Mallory exhaled a plume of smoke as he eyed Anna. “So, this a 6th Street hit on your new crew? You gotta give me something here, Anna. Am I gonna be running into more of this?”

Anna sighed, rubbing a hand across her face like she was wiping away the frustration. She glanced down the street, probably weighing her options, trying to decide how much to give away. I could practically see the gears turning in her head, debating what she could hold back. After a long pause, she finally gave in, speaking in a low voice. “The place they hit…it’s a casino.”

Mallory grunted, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. “Figures.” He flicked his cigarette to the ground and crushed it under his boot. “Well, I guess I better head inside and log the evidence. You know, protocol. It’ll probably take me about five minutes or so to get the guys all ready.” His eyes locked onto Anna’s; the message clear: you’ve got a window.

“And our guy over there?” she asked, jerking her head in the direction of Diego and the cop still trying to get something out of him.

“As far as my people are concerned, your guy wasn’t here. I’ll make sure his name doesn’t end up in any reports. Grab what you need, but make sure we find something too.”

With that, he turned and strolled back over to a cluster of officers, casually waving them off from the entrance. They were busy keeping the crowd of onlookers from getting too close, acting like they were securing the scene. The whole thing was ridiculous. They weren’t here to help. They were just playing the game, making sure they got their slice of whatever was going down. The whole thing pissed me off, but we had to play along or the NCPD could dick us over with bureaucracy.

I made my way over to Diego, my eyes flicking from the blood on the pavement to the badge who was still badgering him. “It’ll go a lot smoother if you just tell us what you saw,” said the cop, his voice coming out with a tinge of frustration at what he saw as a lack of cooperation.

Diego was having none of it. “Like I told you, officer, I didn’t see much. Just an innocent bystander caught in your standard Night City firefight.”

Anna joined me, stepping in next to Diego. With a subtle gesture, she signaled for the cop to back off. The guy hesitated, clearly annoyed, but one quick glance over at Mallory who gave him a sharp nod, and he stepped away.

I turned to Diego and kept my voice low so as not to be overheard by the cop. “What happened here?”

Diego looked tired, worn from the fight, but still solid. “I was checking on security when some assholes showed up. They hit hard, fast – got the guy we had on watch outside before anyone could react. I managed to take down two of them, but it wasn’t clean. They weren’t exactly being subtle about it either.”

“Badges say it was 6th Street.”

“Definitely 6th Street. They were all decked out like weekend warriors. At least, the two I put down were.”

Anna crossed her arms, staring at the bullet-riddled façade of the restaurant with a grim expression. “NCPD’s gonna sit on this place for a few days,” she muttered. “The casino’s out of commission until they clear out. We can grab some of the money that’s back there – maybe half – but it’ll be four days, give or take, before we can get things up and running again.”

Deng nodded, his face resigned. “That’s how it goes. A lot of these early stages in gang fights aren’t about taking territory.”

I frowned at that. “What do you mean? Isn’t taking territory the whole point of a gang war?”

Deng shook his head. “No, this was just a poke. 6th Street’s testing us. Happens in a lot of gang wars – it starts small to see how we’ll react. They kill one of our guys, stir up a bunch of shit, and now the cops are here shutting us down for a few days. It hurts our pockets more than anything. When we do open back up, our clientele’s either moved on or doesn’t feel safe coming back. It’s an easy way to cause damage without risking much. Sure, it cost them two shooters. But shooters are cheap in Night City.”

I glanced over at Diego, who was looking a little worse for wear. My eyes landed on a bloodstain near his ribs. “You alright?” I asked, gesturing towards the injury.

Diego glanced down at it before brushing it off with a wave. “Just a scratch. Subdermal armor stopped most of it.”

I grunted a hmmph before turning back to the rest of the crew. “Alright, what’re our options?”

Deng crossed his arms, thinking it over. “We have to hit back or they’ll just keep coming. But we’ve got a problem. The Pack’s growing and we’re pulling in new people every day, but 6th Street still has the numbers. We can’t win in a straight-up fight. And all our people are out on the streets. They’ve got hideouts all over the city, been around longer, and can hole up in their homes and businesses.”

I sighed at that and turned to Anna and Cyndi. “Okay. You two need to get with John. I want everything we’ve got on 6th Street – their weaknesses, their soft targets. I want to know where we can hit them to do the most damage.”

Cyndi looked at me, raising an eyebrow. “What exactly are we searching for?”

I racked my brain, trying to remember anything useful from the game about 6th Street. There was the rooftop party that V could break up. 6th Street also helped V and Idris Elba set up an ambush against MaxTac. Other than that, it was mostly small time stuff that V had to deal with. Then it hit me – Gunner. His name had popped up a few times in the game. Wasn’t he their leader or something? But John had info claiming some guy named Rick Morton was leading 6th Street.

“Find out about a guy named Gunner. I don’t know much, but he’s important. Find out what you can about him and see whether we can use him.”

I turned to head out, but Deng stepped up beside me and put a hand on my chest to stop me. “What about you?” he asked, curiosity in his voice. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I need to check in with the other gangs, see if we can get ourselves some backup – or at least make sure they’re not siding with 6th Street. I’ll ride out to Heywood to talk to a fixer out there. Padre. He’s got ties with the Valentinos. If this thing escalates, we might need that connection.”

As soon as I said it, Anna’s face darkened. “That’s a terrible idea.”

Diego chimed in, his face showing what looked like disappointment at my statement. “You’re a target now. You know that, right? 6th Street is going to be gunning for you.”

I raised a hand to cut them off, but Anna wasn’t done. “You can’t just ride off alone. We’re in a gang war. They’re going to focus on you. That Kusanagi of yours is fast, sure, but it’s not built for defense. It’s a flashy target. Which makes you a flashy target. You go zipping through the streets on that thing, you might as well paint a bullseye on your back.”

“I’ll be careful,” I said, trying to brush them off with a wave. “I need to talk with Padre, which means I can’t just sit back at the base and hope for everything to take care of itself.”

Anna’s jaw tightened, clearly not thinking I was taking this seriously. “Then take someone with you. Going alone is asking for trouble.”

Deng chimed in at that, turning to Anna. “Can I use your car? Been meaning to get one, but…the NCART works just fine for me.”

She nodded before glancing over at Diego. “Yea, I’ll take Diego’s van and drop him off at the ripper before heading out to see John.”

I wanted to argue with them and complain that they were talking about me like I wasn’t there. But they had a point, as much as I hated to admit it. Going it alone was reckless, and Fred and Mor had drilled that into me ever since I started hanging with them at the alcove. At the same time, the thought of being babysat was suffocating.

“Fine,” I grumbled, throwing my hands up. “But I need that info on Gunner. The sooner, the better.”

&&&&&

A basketball court in Heywood filled with angry teens and young adults, cursing each other out while playing pickup games, wasn’t exactly the ideal spot for a serious meeting with a fixer, but that’s just how things worked in Night City. The midday sun beat down on the cracked pavement, casting harsh shadows, while a few kids shot hoops on the far side of the court, their arguments drifting over like background noise. Scattered around the area, in small clumps, were people from the neighborhood, chatting and joking with each other.

Deng and I made our way toward the bleachers, where Padre sat, watching the court like a king surveying his kingdom. As we approached, one of his guards – a thick-necked guy with a chip on his shoulder – stepped into my path, clearly eager to show me I wasn’t going to just stroll up to the man without getting past him first. Before I could even open my mouth, Deng stepped in. He didn’t say a word, but the sharp, challenging look he gave the guard said plenty. They locked eyes, both too proud to blink first, and it was clear this could turn into something.

I didn’t have time for posturing, so I brushed right past them and dropped onto the bleacher beside Padre, like we were old friends catching up.

Once I sat down Padre turned to me with a slow smile, something close to amusement flashing in his eyes. He was also probably tired of people trying to baby him for his position. He gave his guard a slight nod, dismissing him, and turned his full attention to me. “You must be Noah Batty,” he said, his voice smooth and calm. “Didn’t expect a personal visit. I’ve heard quite a bit about you.”

I shot him a sideways glance, curious. “All good things, I hope.”

He chuckled softly, leaning back against the worn metal bleachers. “The merc who refuses work. Regina was trying to get you on her roster for ages. But now you’re not just some ghost in the city. You’ve got your own people, and you’re tangled up in a…minor disagreement with 6th Street.” He tilted his head, studying me. “So, what brings you to Heywood? Far from your usual turf, don’t you think?”

I took a slow breath, carefully choosing my words. “That ‘minor disagreement’ is why I’m here. I need to know if the Valentinos are considering stepping into this mess. We don’t have any beef with you, but this is Night City – if there’s profit to be made, I figure anyone might jump in.”

Padre’s expression shifted, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. He glanced away from the pickup game he’d been watching and gave me a long, appraising look. “You’re younger than I thought you’d be.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Does my age matter?”

“Just an observation,” he replied, his voice easy, like he had all the time in the world. “Most people in your position have been in the game for years. They know this little dust-up isn’t the end of the world.”

I studied his face – the deep lines, the liver spots on his skin that spoke of a long life in Night City’s shadows. He was ancient, but there was no trace of condescension there. Just experience.

Padre’s gaze sharpened as he leaned forward. “6th Street is feeling you out. They want to see if The Pack has staying power or if they can push you around. It’s a test – every new gang goes through it.”

“A test?” I echoed, narrowing my eyes. “What do you mean?”

“How many gangs do you think Night City has seen come and go? One pops up, another goes down, and most never last long. 6th Street’s wondering if you’re worth worrying about or if you’re just another outfit that’ll fade away.”

I stared at him, processing his words. “So, how is this normal? They don’t want a fight but…they do what a fight?”

He shrugged, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “It’s part of the game. You survive, you grow, you prove you’re worth the trouble – or you don’t and someone else moves in.”

Padre clicked his tongue and muttered a quiet “chingado” under his breath as he motioned toward the basketball court. I followed his gaze and saw the game had come to a halt. The two teams had stopped playing and were jawing at each other, tensions simmering but not quite boiling over.

We watched the conflict for a brief moment before Padre drew my attention again. “When the Valentinos were just starting out, we were nobody. Just a handful of guys from the old neighborhood, mostly concerned with one thing – seducing the most beautiful women in Night City.” He chuckled at that, seeming to lose himself in the memory. “We weren’t out for territory or power. We just wanted to live for as long as we could in this city. But…one of us made a mistake. Slept with the wrong woman.”

I leaned in a little, intrigued. I knew bits and pieces about the origins of the other gangs in the city. 6th Street had started out as a protection gang, as did the Tyger Claws. Maelstrom…well, they were cyberware addicts gone off the deep end. But I never knew how the Valentinos got their start.

“What happened?” I asked, genuinely curious.

Padre’s eyes gleamed, clearly picking up on my interest. “You ever hear of posergangs?”

I shook my head, unfamiliar with the term.

“They were big before the 4th Corporate War,” he explained, smiling slightly. “Back then, the city was crawling with them – gangs that modeled themselves after old entertainers or personalities or TV shows. The Kennedy’s, the Elvises, the Gilligans.” He snorted. “This happened after the bombing of Arasaka Tower. The world was already on fire at that time, but that really threw it into chaos. There was a posergang called the Trekkies. Modeled themselves after some old TV show from long ago – what was it? Ah, Star Trek.”

I blinked, surprised and suddenly much more interested. “Star Trek? There was a gang of Star Trek fans?”

Padre nodded, amused by my reaction. “Yea. Obsessed fans. They dumped all their eddies into the best tech they could find, bio-sculpted themselves to look like characters from the old show, even had their own weird rituals and rules straight out of the series.”

Oh, holy hell. How had I never heard there was a Star Trek gang in Night City history? For a brief moment, the looming gang war with 6th Street faded from my mind as I tried to picture a bunch of Trekkies running around in cosplay, picking fights in a capitalist dystopia far from the ideals that the Federation stood for.

“They’re mostly forgotten now, just another footnote in Night City history,” Padre continued. “But they were something. And one of our guys seduced the girlfriend of their leader. When he found out, he challenged us – called it some kind of ritual combat. Next thing we knew, we were in the middle of a war.”

I furrowed my brow, not quite sure where this was going. “Let me guess, you’re going to say this wasn’t a war to wipe out the Valentinos.”

Padre laughed at that. “Back then, we weren’t even a proper gang. We were just some guys from the neighborhood. The Trekkies were after revenge. They wanted to kill the guy who messed with their leader’s girl, bloody our noses, but they weren’t trying to kill everyone.”

“So, what happened?” I asked, knowing full well the Valentinos had won. They were still around, after all, and one of the biggest gangs in the city. The Trekkies, on the other hand, had been completely forgotten by almost everyone.

“The neighborhood came together,” Padre said simply. “A few of us called in favors, pulled in some friends, and little by little, we became a real force. The war ended when we shot the Trekkie leader outside his house. There were only a few deaths, and after that, it was over.” He paused, turning to face me. “But that’s not the point.”

“You’re trying to say 6th Street isn’t trying to wipe us out, and we shouldn’t treat it like they are.”

“Exactly,” Padre said, his voice firm. “6th Street wants to see if The Pack is serious. If they can push you around, make you bleed a little, take some of your turf, they’ll see you as just another gang that’ll fade away soon enough. Everyone else? They’re watching from the sidelines, waiting to see who comes out on top.”

I huffed, frustrated at what Padre was saying. To Padre and Deng, two guys with boatloads of experience, this was small-time. A trial by fire. And it frustrated me that they thought that way. It felt like all the gangs in the city were just slapping at each other, not doing any real harm, believing this whole thing was just some kind of game.

“Every gang has to prove they belong,” Padre continued. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking it’s more than that. If you push too hard, you’ll escalate things. And then? It’s no longer just a small-time thing.”

My fingers idly traced the weathered bleachers beneath us as I mulled it over. “So, the Valentinos aren’t getting involved?” I asked, hoping for any sign that I could convince them to help us with 6th Street.

Padre let out a deep sigh, his gaze drifting back to the basketball court, where the kids had gone back to their game. “As much as I’d love to get involved, my hands are tied. The Valentinos, my mercs, everyone in Heywood…we’ll stay on the sidelines. No one from here is stepping in.”

That hit me like a punch to the gun, but I kept my expression calm, trying not to let the frustration show. “You want to get involved? Why?” I asked, my curiosity pushing through.

He leaned back and stretched his arms out across the bleacher. “6th Street’s been shitting on everything all over town lately. They’re trying to flex, remind everyone they’re still a big deal.” His voice darkened; his easy charm replaced by something colder, harder. “A few days ago, they tried to pull me over. Flashing iron, thinking they could scare me off.”

“They tried pulling you over?” I repeated, something clicking in the back of my mind. A familiar scene from a different life.

“One of their boys pulled a piece,” he said with a bitter smirk, shaking his head. “Tried to make me take him seriously. Some punk, fresh out of diapers, delivering a message. He told me the Valentinos should clear out of the neighborhood, as if they could take it from us.” His tone simmered with restrained anger, barely contained beneath that calm exterior. “Believe me, I’d love to send a message of my own. Something they’d never forget. But for now? I’m staying out of it. So will the Valentinos. This fight with 6th Street…it’s yours.”

I had to suppress the disappointment I was feeling from that statement. But before I could process what it meant for The Pack, my thoughts flashed back to something that felt strangely…familiar. I remembered the intro chapter to Street Kid V’s lifepath. Riding around Night City in the back of Padre’s car, then getting pulled over by 6th Street who were trying to throw their weight around. A good sidled up to the car, mouthing off, thinking he had the upper hand. Was this that moment? Was V in the car with Padre when 6th Street tried to pull him over? Could this be the start of V’s story?

But…I didn’t know who V was in this world. Were they a man? A woman? Had they just broken from the Bakkers, or were they fresh back from Atlanta? Maybe they’d been a corpo with Arasaka until things went south. There were so many versions of V, so many ways their story could’ve gone.

As much as I wanted to ask Padre and press him for details, to dig into that connection, I knew I had to let it go. The Pack wasn’t some crew waiting for a hero to sweep in and save the day. And this V wasn’t yet the legendary merc that would go toe to toe with Adam Smasher and almost singlehandedly bring down Arasaka.

I had my own war to fight. And my own crew to lead.

Maybe after all this was finished, when the smoke cleared, I’d look for V – maybe even Jackie or T-Bug – but right now? Right now, I had to focus on an imminent gang war.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Tom’s Diner in Little China was always a good place for low-key meetups. The greasy scent of cooking oil mixed with the stale aroma of old coffee, and the neon lights outside flickered like they were on their last legs, casting the interior in a strange, buzzing glow. It had a grimy, lived-in feel that made me feel safe in Night City. It didn’t hurt that V and Goro had their first meeting here in the game either. I couldn’t help but nerd out a little every time I stepped inside.

Angelica was already there, sitting at the counter, her hands wrapped around a chipped mug as she sipped something that smelled burnt. Behind her, the cook worked the grill with a bored, robotic efficiency, flipping “burgers” without looking up. Outside, Deng was waiting by the car, keeping an eye on the street. Maybe he was being overly cautious, but with 6th Street gunning for us, I was starting to warm to the idea of him helping to look out for me.

I slid onto the stool next to Angelica, the vinyl squeaking under me. She glanced my way, giving a nod but saying nothing. No small talk, no pleasantries. That was fine by me. I got straight to the point.

“6th Street hit one of our casinos,” I said, keeping my voice low. “I need everything the Animals have on them – hideouts, operations, fronts, anything that can give us an edge.”

Angelica didn’t look surprised. She just took another sip from her mug, the sound of the diner around us blending into the silence between us. After a beat, she turned to me. “I know about the hit,” she said evenly. “Word travels fast in this city. But…Sasquatch has decided we’re not getting involved.”

Her words hit like a cold splash of water. The Valentinos staying out of the fight was one thing. My only connection with them had come through El Sombreron and it was tenuous at best. A favor and a job and that was it. I hadn’t expected much from Padre or the Valentinos, so I wasn’t too surprised when they opted out of the fight. But the Animals? We’d been working together. We had a good thing going, or so I thought. My stomach tightened, but I kept my expression blank.

“She’s ordered us to stay out of it,” Angelica repeated, like that was supposed to make it better. Her tone was cool and detached as she spoke. “Sasquatch doesn’t see this as our fight. But…she’s also watching. She wants to see if The Pack can handle this on their own.”

I clenched my jaw, my frustration rising. “So, it’s a test now?” I muttered, the anger slipping into my voice despite my best efforts to keep it cool. It felt like the whole damn city was treating this like some sort of game. “We fight off 6th Street, and if we survive, maybe we’re worth being allies?”

Angelica’s eyes stayed on mine, unblinking. “This city’s a jungle, Noah. The strong survive, the weal fall. Sasquatch believes that if you can’t prove you’re an alpha – can’t defend your people – then we’d be fools to work with you.”

Alpha. Such a stupid word. I could feel my hands curling into fists and I quickly stuffed them in my jacket pockets. The Animals and their whole twisted philosophy of power, strength, dominance – it was so reductive, so simplistic. “Alpha?” I scoffed, shaking my head in disbelief. “You and your gang have latched onto this outdated, dumb idea of ‘alpha’ and ‘pack dynamics’ without knowing a damn thing about how real animals work. Wolves don’t follow the biggest brute. They work together to keep the pack safe.”

Angelica didn’t flinch, she just listened, her face as unreadable as ever. “Sasquatch has kept the Animals on top by being the toughest,” she said. “And by making sure no one in this city dares to challenge her.”

I could feel the anger simmering inside me, but I forced myself to lean back, to let her words hang between us. The Valentinos were watching. Sasquatch was watching. The whole damn city was watching. And now, The Pack was supposed to be the star of some twisted survival game. And if we did come out the other side victorious, who would still be standing with us? If we didn’t? Well, that didn’t bear thinking about.

I stared at the counter for a moment, my mind racing. When I looked up, I met Angelica’s eyes. “You think the Animals were on top?” I asked. “Once this war’s over, we’re going to have to revisit this conversation. Figure out whether or not this partnership between our gangs is worth keeping. ‘Cause hanging us out to dry like this? That’s fucked up.”

I stood up from the stool and made to leave, but couldn’t help throw some more shade in Angelica’s direction. “How much have your people made working with us?” I asked, my voice cutting through the noise of the diner. “The deals we cut, the Cytech job, the fights. It’s been profitable for both sides. Have you thought about how much you’re going to lose when we decide to take our business elsewhere? Barghest, the Valentinos…there’s plenty of muscle in this city willing to make a deal.”

Angelica’s eyes flickered, just for a second, before she regained her composure. She opened her mouth, maybe to defend Sasquatch, maybe to argue her case, but I wasn’t sticking around to hear it. I turned and walked out, leaving her there in the grimy light of the diner.

Deng was already waiting by the car, leaning against the door with his arms crossed, eyes scanning the street for threats. When he saw me, he opened the passenger door without a word. I slid into the front seat and pulled up my contacts, Sandra’s name popping up in my vision.

Noah: I need everything you and your people can dig up on 6th Street. Locations, movements, anything. And find out who the hell Gunner is. Why is he important, and can I use him for anything.

I sent the text and leaned back in the seat, exhaling slowly as the car pulled away from the diner. We were outnumbered four to one, I had no clue how to organize a gang war, and we were without a key ally to help strike back against 6th Street. How the hell was I going to make sure The Pack survived?