Cyberpunk 2077: Demons of Night City

It felt like holding my breath before a dive off a cliff into the sea. Same anticipation, but cranked up by five or ten times.

I stared at the concrete ceiling above, caked in dust and cobwebs. This half-abandoned basement in Northside was a shitty place to die. So I had no choice but to survive.

"If this one or the red light flashes, pull that switch. Got it? I've written it all down," Lucy repeated her instructions. Becca shifted her gaze between devices, taking it in.

"Time," I reminded.

The clock read 22:34. Seconds trickled by like grains of sand, speeding up as they fell.

Lucy moved to the plastic container, already filled with coolant and ice. She quickly stripped off her suit, plugging wires into ports under her ribs and along her spine. Those implants ensured stability in the Net, along with a few extra perks and safety features.

Me? I just hooked into the jack at the back of my neck.

"Hey, you're not stripping?" Becca asked, surprised and slightly disappointed, as I climbed into the coolant fully suited.

"Nope," I replied. "Most runners don't."

"Seriously? Lame! Then why do Kiwi and Lucy—"

"Ask them," I chuckled nervously, watching the clock tick down.

However, Becca didn't have time to ask anything. Lucy had already started diving in. I joined her shortly after. We stood in a shimmering space—a small digital hideout. Portals to the locations needed for the op were already set up inside. From here, I'd jump to the house on Union Street, and Lucy would go to the power grid control center.

22:44.

"You ready?" Lucy asked.

"Yeah. Ready to claw my right to exist in this city out of Arasaka's grip."

"This city seems to mean a lot to you," she replied. "You're ready to start a small war over it."

"For you, I'd go for a full-on nuke," I smirked.

"Well, well, Mr. Price. Better check your loadout instead."

We were well-prepared for the battle ahead in the Net's depths. I'd packed two daemons—imp type—and one fourth-gen Balron. All the software was from the black market. I'd deliberately avoided using any stashed Arasaka tools. Most of my programs were defensive and stealth-based. My offensive capabilities came down to my skills as an AI construct. Lucy and I would operate separately, so there wouldn't be any constraints on my usage.

"I'm in position," Panam's voice echoed in both our heads.

"Let's go, V. It's time," Lucy said, giving me a parting kiss.

It didn't feel real—more symbolic than an actual kiss. Still, it was nice.

Almost simultaneously, we touched our transition points. Flash. Blue dots streaked past me like a hyperspace jump in a sci-fi flick. In a blink, I was back at the base of a digital fortress on Union Street. A shimmering monolith, its dynamic ice layer pulsed at the top. Somewhere inside, a faint digital trace of Abernathy flickered. A soul's spark I couldn't wait to snuff out.

23:00. The countdown began.

I switched to pre-hacked cameras in a nearby building. In a storage room, four Maelstrom cyber-cultists were setting up explosives on a vault wall. A crew of over two dozen fighters waited to kick off the heist. Perfect. They hadn't been spotted yet, but soon these red-eyed psychos would turn this place upside down.

Time to drop the mask I'd been wearing for far too long.

My virtual body shifted, no longer pretending to be human. It dissolved into tendrils. The transformation took mere seconds but felt drawn out to me. My thought processes changed, something colder and more unyielding rising to shield the soft underbelly of my human psyche.

I moved toward the tower slowly, scanning my surroundings. Tendrils extended and dissolved, leaving no trace.

23:02.

Closer, closer. The tower loomed overhead, gleaming and pulsating. The outer ice layer seemed solid as armor, but I could see faint cracks filled with pale green traces of my virus. A few more minutes, and I could—

Someone was here! Not in the tower but just outside its perimeter, hiding, scanning the area. A runner on patrol? A corpo tech checking something? Either way, they had to go.

I'd prepped a web of traps and set my imps to stun mode. A fraction of a second, two...

I ripped off their cloak. A reddish figure of a netrunner materialized, defenses down. They used a cloud jammer to try and escape but got stuck in my threads. Welcome to my web. Simultaneously, they sent out a message, which I intercepted.

My processing speed let me read it in full before they even knew what hit them. No encrypted Watcher signal or corpo alert—just a short, panicked message:

"Jack, shit's fucked! An AI jumped me."

Fuck. That meant this runner was one of Mauser's hires. Killing them now might take Jack out of the game. Not good. I pulled back the threads, letting the runner break free and retreat to a "safe" distance, all while intercepting their comms channel.

"Jack, this reeks of shit. There's an AI here. A big bastard with fortress-grade ice. We're bait."

"Took you long enough to figure that out, huh?" the merc retorted. "Of course, this job's part of something bigger, and who gives a fuck? Stop panicking. Just cut the cams and let me work. First time or what?"

"First time? Fuck yeah! You didn't see this thing. If you did, you wouldn't understand shit either. It's some military-grade killing machine."

"Did it attack you?"

"No. Grabbed me but let go."

"Then who cares? Get to work. Time's ticking, Bugbear."

"Nah, Jack. I'm out. Adios, amigo."

Fuck. Not the time for their drama. Sure, I could juggle launching my own attack and babysitting Jack, but it'd complicate things. I had to intervene.

"Listen to your friend, Bugbear," a third, metallic voice—mine—cut into the comms. "It's too late to chicken out. You've got your job; I've got mine. Try to bail, and I'll kill you myself. I'll fry your CNS so slow you'll have time to tap dance during the spasms."

I made the metallic tone as menacing as possible. Every netrunner knows that AI can have character modulation—traits that influence its behavior and decisions. Not all AI are cold, calculated machines. Some, designed for safe human interaction, are made friendly and curious. Aggressive combat AI, on the other hand, are often coded to be ruthless, prioritizing destruction above self-preservation.

"Fine, fine," the girl's voice trembled with fear. "I'll stay, but I'll remember this, Jack."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," the merc laughed. "Feel free to bite my dick harder than usual next time. Now cut the cams already. I'm tired of hiding in this fucking storage room."

23:11. 

A bit behind schedule.

I switched back to the Maelstrom camera. Just in time for the explosion. Dust settled. At the breach stood a red-eyed psycho in a black flak vest. A detonator in his left hand, a revolver in his right. He'd clearly been too close to the blast—safety be damned.

Chunks of debris were stuck in his forehead. A shard had torn a strip of skin from his left jaw, leaving it dangling like a crimson ribbon.

Red-eyes tossed the detonator to the ground, ripped the flesh strip off, flung it aside, and roared:

"Rip 'em to shreds!"

The entire crew charged forward. Perfect. I disconnected from the feed.

Time to launch the network assault on the tower.

In a fraction of a second, I close the distance to the ice wall weakened by the virus. One impact, and the protective fragments shatter, opening a path into the labyrinth of the digital fortress. Inside, the building's real corridors and communications were tangled with ice barriers. My informational essence surged forward, releasing two imp-class demons. They appeared as reddish spheres bristling with subprograms and viruses. My tendrils intertwined with them, pulling them closer. I disguised my main body, making it resemble an imp. Together, we morphed into a triangle of identical spheres laced with tendrils. Now, I looked less like an AI and more like some souped-up demon program.

In this form, I initiated the first attack on the skyscraper's systems. My tendrils touched down, unleashing malicious code through the fortress's internal channels, weakening its defensive protocols. Infecting the data gateways would make it harder for enemy runners to call for reinforcements and slow the spread of alerts inside the skyscraper. At the same time, I could see Bugbear making her move on the lower levels. She was using a worm program to breach the system. Cheap and effective.

Ten more seconds, and—

The ice around me shifted. From it emerged three informational entities, manifesting as gleaming blue mists. Hydra-7. Anti-programs designed to destroy daemons. Perfect. My disguise had worked. The enemy data center assumed it was dealing with one netrunner—Bugbear—and her special daemon.

The hydras launched their attack, following their standard protocol to neutralize hostile programs. Each aimed for one of the imps, trying to breach their defenses. But my tendrils moved faster. One hydra was shredded in a fraction of a second, and the others were hit with prepped viral code, forcing them to attack each other.

Point for me. Wonder what the runners in the data center are thinking right now? Will they toss a few more combat programs my way to figure out what they're dealing with, or will they send one of their own in here? Really hoping for the second option. Then I can deal with them personally. The rest? Mausser can handle them. Speaking of which, how's he doing?

Keeping an eye on the network, I diverted some attention to the first-floor security cameras, already breached by Bugbear. She'd also opened one of the emergency exits for Mausser.

And here comes Jack himself, stepping onto the stage of tonight's spectacle. Mausser was clad in a loose coat made of expensive bio-leather, with an even pricier bulletproof vest contoured to his torso. Adaptive armor made from smart materials. Black glasses covered most of his face.

The merc burst into the building. A heavy shotgun hung from his belt, a silenced pistol in his left hand, and a short axe with three spikes on the back in his right. He wasted no time putting them to use. With a throw, he buried the axe in the face of a guard blocking his way, then shot a female tech worker in the temple before she could even scream. Ripping the bloody axe from the guard's face, he pressed on.

23:16.

Next door, police were in a pitched gunfight with Maelstrom. Their netrunner had killed the traffic lights on nearby streets, creating gridlock. But three armored SUVs plowed through, cutting across sidewalks to the skyscraper on Union Street, screeching to a halt right at the entrance. Windows rolled down, and a torrent of lead from heavy machine guns shredded the Arasaka guards outside. A crude rocket smashed into the lobby, obliterating the reception desk. The Animals gang thugs spilled out of the SUVs, their target being the head of first-floor security.

The festival of Ultraviolence I orchestrated was hitting its stride.

Meanwhile, the data center's runners made their move. Two human-like figures in shimmering golden armor appeared in front of me.

"Ever seen daemons like this before, Danz?" asked a female voice. "I don't like the scanning structures it's using. What kind of hybrid tech is this?"

"First, let's neutralize this filth, then we'll figure it out," replied the second runner, with a touch of cheap bravado. "I knew this would be an interesting job. Arasaka doesn't call us in lightly. If the samurai are swallowing their pride, then we're in for one hell of a fight."

Definitely NetWatch. Three of them, it seems. One's probably chasing Bugbear, and these two are here for me.

A red ripple surged through the icy walls. From the Watchers, a shifting trap program shot toward me. I reconfigured my structure and deployed a simple defensive field. The trap veered off course, snagging a few disposable tendrils that I could easily replace.

At the same time, I used my long-released virus to carve a channel through the icy labyrinth's walls. Taking the NetWatch head-on wasn't ideal; this was their stronghold, and their armor was top-tier. Time to strike from the shadows.

"Very strange daemon, Danz," the woman remarked. "Definitely has AI elements."

"Do you find joy in stating the obvious, Harris?" Danz sneered. "Focus on preparing for an attack. It's creating a channel through the ice."

"W-what?" the netrunner barely managed to stammer.

The ice to their left cracked open, releasing my tendrils along with a balron-class demon. Its swarm of greenish tendrils lashed out at the enemy netrunners. A few bluish bursts, like magical orbs, slammed against their shields. The Watchers held firm under my assault.

Danz deployed three ifrit-class daemons, their forms resembling agents in black suits. They conjured shimmering blades, parrying my strikes. The network battle raged on. Information splintered, disintegrated, lost meaning.

Behind me, the ice shifted. Something massive emerged, resembling a segmented dragon. A powerful anti-daemon program. A flash, and one of my imps burst apart. My disguise fell. Another flash, and the second imp was gone.

"Help us, Lloyd!" the female runner called to their third teammate as my tendrils bore down on her armor. "This is a full-fledged combat AI. I've never seen a model like this. We can't handle it."

Finally, those bastards figured it out. They realized they were facing an Abominable Intelligence.

"We can handle it!" Danz barked, reinforcing his armor. "This is our playground."

He tapped into the data center's memory and resources, releasing five more ifrits, each carrying three combat programs. Explosions and strikes erupted from every direction. It was nothing like a fight in the physical world. Gravity, direction, distance were meaningless. The enemy daemons moved across every plane of the shimmering labyrinth.

They were trying to reach my core, to break through the ice and destroy my cognitive essence, tearing apart the data arrays afterward—everything I remembered, everything I loved.

No. Not happening.

I didn't claw my way out of cyber hell just to lose here to some Watchmen netrunners.

"Danz, I... Aaaaagh!" Harris screamed as one of my tendrils burned through her armor, ripping a chunk of her essence away.

She tried to disconnect, but I pressed my attack with combat programs. The Watchman froze, paralyzed.

"This ain't over yet," Danz smirked. "You've still got your main problem standing."

The bastard fought well, leveraging every advantage the datacenter behind him offered. I lost my daemons quickly, while their Ifrits seemed endless. Survival became a game of pure adaptability. I darted from one sector to another, discarding excess threads and forcing the enemy demons to chase decoys. Meanwhile, the Watchman surrounded himself with impenetrable defenses, clearly working on coding some adaptive killer program. Something fast enough to catch me.

Then, for the first time, I spoke to him.

"It's over. You're dead," I said in my metallic voice.

"What?" The runner grinned defiantly. "You haven't even cracked the first layer of my ice."

"Your ice is good, but flesh is weak."

I sent him a feed from their datacenter. Three Watchmen lounged in leather chairs amid the latest tech, wood-paneling aesthetics making the place look like some posh hunting lodge. A fake deer head adorned the wall above a mock fireplace. Its antlers were skewering a young black woman, blood soaking her white shirt in massive crimson stains.

Another netrunner slumped nearby, his guts spilled out and twisted across the floor. Dead, lifeless eyes stared blankly, his legs hacked to pieces. A hatchet was still embedded in one.

Jack was completing my orders and having a bit of fun on the side.

Yeah, brother. You're a real psycho.

Danz was still alive—for now. But he didn't have long. Jack Mauser had already gripped his head with both hands, thumbs pressing into his eyes. Expensive optic implants cracked and smoked before bursting in a spray of blood.

Danz's presence vanished from the Net. He'd jacked out, but too late. Reality only greeted him with agony. Blind and practically helpless, he whimpered, "Please, we can make a deal... We can—"

"Deal this, corpo!" Jack sneered, jamming a live wire into the runner's mouth.

Danz convulsed violently, his body seizing as electricity fried him alive. Smoke poured from his mouth, his information essence unraveling into nothing. God knows how much valuable data was there, but I didn't have time to absorb it all. The hourglass was draining too quickly.

23:21. Time to move.

While fending off the now-leaderless Ifrits—more annoying than dangerous at this point—I spread viruses across the system's key components. Ice fractured everywhere. Overhead, lights flickered in the datacenter as Jack's chaos started bleeding through.

Lucy had already begun overloading the power grid. One second. Two. Power surges coinciding with my assault were frying expensive equipment left and right. The ice shielding the skyscraper's lower floors shattered completely.

The tower went dark. What moments ago was a glittering beacon in the night now stood as a black monolith, lit only by sporadic gunfire and the blaze started on the first floor by Animals.

One, two, three... Let's light this Christmas tree!

I activated the emergency lights, turning on every available screen and broadcasting the scene live to the public Net. A batch of emails shot out to various journalists. Each contained the same message:

"Citizens of Night City, Biotechnica has existed for eighty-six years, employs over forty thousand people, and has committed countless crimes against humanity and the environment. We, the Crimson Harvest, vow to destroy this hydra in the name of—"

And so on. A mix of terrorist propaganda and my own additions. The Crimson Harvest now "claimed responsibility" for threatening to detonate ten Arasaka properties, starting with this building on Union Street—where, naturally, a bomb was already planted.

With the skyscraper systems fully under my control (save for the top three floors), it was time to focus. The ice fortress was down, the NetWatch netrunners dead. Only the dynamic ice protecting the penthouse remained.

Phase one: complete. Now, it was Abernathy's move.