Cyberpunk 2077: Demons of Night City

The first half of the day I rested after yesterday's action. It's going to cost me some extra shifts, but I had to let my body recover after the extreme events. I was slowly going through the disc with Jimmy's files.

The account, the bank vault, I haven't had time to get to that yet... Ah, here. These anonymous deposits were withdrawn purely by password. Excellent. It's easy to rob those who are hiding their savings from the law and moving them into the gray area.

I could get some of the money with almost no risk, and to get another slice, it'd be good to have a drop. A fake identity to transfer eddies to an account, and then withdraw in cash.

Then I fiddled a bit with Jimmy's EMP device. Checked out the built-in documentation. Unfortunately, it won't work as efficiently with me anymore. The thing is, the device was custom-made and connected to Kurosaki's implants. That's what allowed the director not to suffer as much from his own EMP. In my hands, it's just a powerful grenade. Is it worth carrying around? No. Better to ditch it along with the Nue, which I used to zero out Okamura.

In the afternoon, I cruised the city in a Delamain. Dumped the Nue at one junkyard, dropped off the EMP device elsewhere, after disabling some parts of it. Naturally, I erased all fingerprints. Then I visited two anonymous automatic storages. Using Kurosaki's password, I withdrew sixty thousand. I transferred the money to credit chips and stored them in another automated vault under my own password.

In total, I've got almost 484k on hand, and 105k not in accounts. The amount is getting decent. However, most of this money is still under threat. A problem yet to be solved.

A little later, I messaged David. Sent a secure message with the time and place for the meeting. Then I cruised around some more and picked up a new low-profile piece. Simple, but reliable revolver. It was 'gifted' to me by a young girl from the Valentinos. I took control of her, walked up to my taxi, placed the gun on the back seat, walked away, broke control, and ordered Del to drive off. The girl blinked in confusion. She'll probably go check with a ripper for neuroviruses later.

For the rest of the day, I hit up a luxury spa. Spent two thousand for the chance to float in the weightlessness of a sensory deprivation chamber and a massage with hot towels afterward. I needed to calm my nerves a bit. But the nerves didn't want to calm down.

Even in the darkness of the deprivation chamber, I could still feel the bad fog from last night. As soon as I started to doze off, I'd hear shots, screams in Japanese, and smell a mix of blood, gunpowder, and ozone. A rough kiss with a burning taste of vodka.

This was the life I wanted.

Maybe not every day, maybe after some preparation, but these kinds of events gave me the taste of life. My job in counterintelligence, on the other hand, drained my motivation day by day.

We met with David late in the evening. A dark street, dark thoughts. The guy got into the car I had rented, parked among the faceless buildings with shabby walls. The city was covered in fog again, but this time it was thinner, resembling yellowish swamp vapors.

David rounded the corner, approaching the car. He already seemed out of place in these slums. Lean, fit, wearing a decent sports jacket. A guy with a future.

Martinez quickly crossed the alley, glancing around, and slid into the door I had left open for him.

"Hello, Mr. Pra... Vi."

"Hey," I nodded, sitting behind the wheel and lighting a cigarette. "Did you bring a piece?"

"Yeah. Here."

David pulled out a large plastic gun from under his jacket, a disposable Slot-O-Matic from Budget Arms.

"Throw that shit away. Here. But don't touch it without gloves."

I handed him the revolver, wrapped in cloth.

"In about ten minutes, this bastard will walk down the street. It's a quiet spot. Minimal witnesses. If anything, you can get away on Sandevistan."

"Got it," David nodded.

He was clearly nervous but tried to keep it together. He stayed silent for a few seconds, staring at the black metal of the revolver, then asked:

"Any other advice?"

"Don't talk to him. Don't listen to his whining. You'll vent and lose your motivation. Even if you zero him, you'll have doubts later. Not everyone is ready for cold-blooded murder right away. So shoot him in the back of the head. Boring but effective."

"And how... was it for you?" David asked nervously, drumming his fingers on his knee.

When did I first kill someone? In the Net, of course. I'm not sure if you can call devouring my kind a murder, but attacks on netrunners definitely were.

"I was 'lucky,' in a way," I said with a grim smile. "When you're fighting for survival, there's no energy left for moral dilemmas. Eventually, you get used to it."

I wouldn't let him talk. If David tries to chat with the quack, the guy might say too much. Mention the strange corpo who ordered him to hand over someone else's ashes. Worst case, I'd take control of the medic. In a 'shit gone wrong' case, I'd control David for a few seconds. But to do that, I'd need to bypass his ICE, and I could see he already had some solid defenses up.

"Give me your personal port," I said, stubbing out the cigarette in the ashtray. "I'll connect to you and back you up."

"Yeah. Sure."

Amusing. A guy who would storm the Arasaka Tower now trusts an Arasaka counter intel agent.

In the end, everything went smoothly. The chubby quack in the greasy suit was waddling home from the NCCART station. He stepped into a secluded spot, where David was already waiting for him in a side passage. I saw the whole thing through his eyes. Martinez approached from behind, aimed and hesitated. The medic kept walking, oblivious, humming something under his breath. A tired, content worker heading home after a long day.

"Shoot!" I shouted over the link, and the gunpowder broke through the stench of the alleyway.

Then again, and again. Three bullets to the back of the head. Then everything blurred like in fast-forward. David sped off on the Sandevistan, tossing the revolver as he went. Four seconds later, the guy was already back in the car. I disconnected, feeling dizzy.

"Let's go," I said, hitting the gas. "And don't worry. A clean kill of such a scumbag won't be too high on the police's priority list. They've got bigger, louder cases piled up."

"What do I owe you?" David asked.

"Now? Nothing. Consider this a favor on credit. Soon you'll be at the top, and I may not be there anymore. That's when your help might come in handy. I once pulled you up from the bottom. Maybe one day, you'll have the chance to pull me up."

"Why do you think that, Mr. V?"

"Instinct," I smirked, driving. "Instinct and experience. Here's another piece of advice, kid. Never go into counterintelligence. Stick to security or other militarized units. And one more thing..."

I slowed the car and, turning around, handed David a note.

"What's this?"

"The phone number of a good ripper in Watson. If it seems like our medics are rushing with the implants, go to him for a second opinion."

"Oh... Is it Victor?"

"You know him?"

"A little. Jackie introduced me."

Wow, Jackie moved fast. There's no way my future memories could've predicted these two getting chummy—the chain of events had already shifted. The thing with the Claws showing up? In a reality where David ended up with Maine, that wouldn't have happened. The crew would've found Kurosaki sooner.

"So, you and Jackie hit it off?"

"Not really... He dropped by a few times. My mom says he's alright for a merc. Though she thought Maine was decent, too."

"He hasn't bothered you anymore?"

"Nope," David shook his head. "He sent my mom a message saying she got mixed up with the corpos, threw in a few insults, then blocked her. We moved after that. No problems since. She really wants to give his money back, though."

"Talk her out of it. You guys need to stay far away from Maine. He's spiraling, and the next stop is the deep end of cyberpsychosis."

"You're probably right, but I'm just glad things didn't end in a firefight," David sighed.

"Feeling sorry for the muscleheads, or was it the girl that caught your eye?"

David looked a little flustered and started to protest.

"Nah, it's not about her. It's just... if things had gone sideways, I could've ended up just like them."

He wasn't wrong about that.

I dropped David off and was back home soon after. So, the weekend was over. Results? A pile of bodies, a few eddies, one dead colleague, and I pushed a teenager into his first kill. Great weekend. All I wanted now was to crack open a beer, soak in the tub, crank up the music, and stay up till five. But work tomorrow…

The workday started with strong coffee and a tongue-lashing from the boss. Jenkins called me into his office, kicking things off with:

"You've been running around a lot lately, V. All over the city, mingling with mercs, giving lectures, of all things. You still got a job here, you know."

"And I'm spending most of my life on it."

"But somehow, you've still got energy for all that other crap," Arthur smirked, not offering me a seat. "Spent two days tailing Okamura? Hiding out in a dumpster near his dump?"

"Not just that. But I'm getting everything done, Arthur. You know I'll pull all-nighters if I have to."

"You better, V. And it's not just your time I'm worried about. We're both in that witch's crosshairs. She's waiting for a slip-up, and you're out there playing cowboy. Shooting at ghosts, getting into fights. You sure I'm not giving you too much freedom?"

"Arthur, you're absolutely right about Abernathy. But we both know going head-to-head with her could go too far. In that situation, we'll need reliable people outside the corp, outside Security, and even outside the Claws. I took care of Okamura myself. Easy. But what about when someone better protected comes along?"

Arthur thought about it. I could see him weighing whether to rein me in for good or let me have a bit more leeway, so he could use it later.

"You're not gonna fuck this up, right?" he asked sternly.

"No," I answered confidently. Not like I had much choice.

"That's your last warning," Arthur delivered his verdict. "If any problems come up with work—I'll help you as much as I can. But out there, V, you're on your own. You catch a bullet or a complaint? Don't come crying."

"Not a chance," I nodded.

"We'll revisit this in a month," Arthur warned. "You'll have time to find people and make connections by then?"

"Yeah," I answered, though again, what else could I say?

These questions from your boss are almost rhetorical, really.

"And then, your Wild West days are over," Jenkins smirked. "Can't walk the edge forever, V."

"You're right. But, uh, can I count on a few weekends off this month? To make up for it?"

"Get out of here, Wild Bill," he waved me off. "One month. Then you hang up the hat and get back to being a respectable corp."

"Got it, sheriff," I joked, backing towards the door and throwing in a southern accent I'd picked up from old westerns. "I'll shoot a few outlaws for you, sir."

Phew. Dodged that one. Next time, Arthur won't be so easy on me. I really hope I can wrap things up with Lucy before my month of 'cowboying' is up.

Half the day was the usual soul-sucking routine, but then something unusual happened. A dead man called me. Someone I'd already assumed was long gone. Mr. Tanaka, in the flesh.

Did Maine's crew screw up?

Tanaka looked as immaculate as ever, but there was a hint of tension breaking through his usually perfect mask of calm.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Price."

"Afternoon. I hope the students enjoyed my lecture. I tried to keep it lively."

"I'd like to speak to you about something far more important."

"Alright, I'm listening."

"We should meet in person, Mr. Price. Tonight."

I was already getting bad vibes from this. Arthur had just warned me, and now… trouble? Did I mess up during that ninja mission? Maybe a stray drop of blood?

"Where do you suggest we meet?"

"You've probably heard of the No-Tell Motel."

Yeah, I'd heard of it. Run by an AI. Prime spot for anonymous meetings… or quiet assassinations.

"I've reserved room 105."

Funny. According to my future memories, that's the same motel where V gets shot if he messes with the biochip. Am I speed-running this thing?

Stay calm. If Tanaka shows up with goons, I'll know ahead of time. Better call Jackie. Have him keep an eye on the place tonight.

"Alright. I'll head there after work."

"See you then, Mr. Price."

The next few hours at work were tense. I called Jackie, tossed him some eddies to keep an eye on things. Then another idea hit me—call Rebecca. If she's alive, then Maine's crew might not have been wiped out yet. 

I spent ten minutes setting up a secure channel, then finally dialed the little merc. Her voice came through, sounding surprisingly cheerful:

"Yo!"

I stayed silent.

"Who? Who this? Why you calling?"

I stayed silent. A few seconds passed, and then shouting erupted on the other end:

"You bitch! Who the fuck are you calling? Stuff your face with shit, you cunt! I'll shove a shotgun up your ass and spin it! You piece of shitsucker!"

I didn't hang up, just muted the call. I got back to work for a few minutes and then unmuted it.

"Still silent?! I'll blow your fucking brains out, just you try!"

Wow, she's not even out of breath. I muted it again. Well, Rebecca's clearly alive and kicking. No way someone that badly injured could scream into silence for four minutes.

So what happened? Tanaka didn't show up at Jimmy Kurosaki's call?

I'm afraid my future knowledge is no longer reliable when it comes to Lucy and her crew. Things have changed too much. But what can I do? This is what I wanted.

Based on the call timer, Rebecca held out for a full fifteen minutes against silence. Only then did she hang up. Sure, her chest might be small, but no issues with lung capacity.

Later that evening, Jackie texted me that Tanaka arrived at the hotel alone. Good. He was dressed "incognito," in the classic trench coat and hat combo, just like black cowboy Els used to wear.

I drove to the hotel without any real nerves. Honestly, if Tanaka wanted me gone, he'd have reported me to Abernathy. There's something else going on here.

The No-Tell Motel greeted me with a garish neon sign and a group of brightly dressed, sleazy-looking characters hanging around the entrance.

"Hey, slick! Want me to iron that jacket for ya?" a half-naked, overly made-up guy with a pink mohawk asked in a sickly seductive voice.

I ignored him and the other flesh merchants, heading into the smoky hotel lobby. Room 105… Found it quickly and stepped into a dimly lit room with the windows covered. Tanaka looked completely out of place in this den of sin. The Japanese man stood stiff, arms behind his back. Black trench coat, black sunglasses, a hat pulled low over his face. His outfit wasn't flashy, but definitely expensive. Half a meter from his polished boot lay a used condom.

The door closed behind me. Anti-surveillance measures kicked in.

"Mr. Price," Tanaka nodded. "I won't offer you a seat."

"Yeah…" I replied, taking in the surroundings. "Probably better to stand."

But one thing immediately caught my eye, something else just as out of place. A shiny briefcase sitting on a small table.

"So, what did you want to discuss?"

"Take a look inside the case," Tanaka gestured.

I walked over, pressed a couple of latches. Click. Are we happy, V? Yes, we're happy. Inside, gleaming in their custom slots, were fourteen credit chips. Seventy thousand eddies.

"I thought we'd already settled our little disagreement," I said, surprised.

"We have," Tanaka nodded. "This is a gesture of goodwill and an invitation to collaborate. I need you to conduct an investigation, Mr. Price."

A picture of the situation began to form in my head.

"There are projects, the details of which must not leave the department. That's why I'm not filing an official request with counterintelligence."

A lie. There's something else going on here, but I let him finish.

"Some time ago, I was ambushed," Tanaka continued. "I was lured into a trap by someone I trusted. The attack was sudden and swift. I was knocked out by an electromagnetic pulse. Woke up twelve hours later."

"So, it wasn't a kidnapping for ransom?"

"No. I suspect espionage."

Holy shit. Maine and his crew actually pulled off a clean job for once. They didn't ignore my warnings, and instead of confronting Tanaka head-on, they bombarded him and Jimmy Kurosaki with EMP grenades. Or set something else up. Tanaka didn't see their faces. They just downloaded the data they needed and left him alive. And now this suit doesn't even want to go to counterintelligence because he'd have to file something like, "Gentlemen, I was cruising without proper security and accidentally lost top-secret project files."

It might not completely ruin Tanaka's career, but he'll have to eat a lot of shit. That's why our principled Mr. "I Serve the Arasaka" remembers a shady counterintelligence officer who likes to moonlight as a fixer.

"One hundred twenty more upon completion."

"Mr. Tanaka…" I frowned slightly. "Don't you find it strange that this offer is coming from you of all people?"

"The situation with David and this one are of entirely different priority," the Japanese man replied calmly.

Unshakable. No shame, no guilt. Did they replace all his nerves with steel wirings?

"I see. However, you should still submit a formal investigation request. You can specifically request me and give some sort of official reason. After your talk with Ms. Abernathy, my superiors have been keeping a closer eye on how I spend my free time."

"I'll try," he nodded. "But the final word will rest with your superiors. If you're willing, we can move on to the details."

Tanaka handed me a shard with the full story of his misfortune. I read through it, then handed it back, and he erased it. He's really paranoid about his reputation. But I'd already figured it out. They knocked him out, hacked his data defenses right at Jimmy Kurosaki's studio, and left him lying there with some dead Tiger Claws. They even killed the director. Rebecca did keep her promise. Good girl.

After saying goodbye to Tanaka, I walked out onto the street in an absolutely fantastic mood. Well… Time to do some investigating. Time to play a little Sherlock.

"In these kinds of investigations, the trick is not to accidentally uncover yourself," I chuckled to myself, remembering how I'd warned Rebecca about Tanaka's implants.