Cyberpunk 2077: Demons of Night City

Gloria Martinez will live. I'm not sure if it'll be a long life or a happy one, but definitely longer than it could have been.

"That's it for today. Drop me off at home," I said to Lucas, sitting in the car and looking through the window at the cursed clinic.

The next day, for once, I got assigned to a field operation. The Wraiths had hit a convoy that was too important for the corp, and they didn't even bother to remove one of the bugs on the cargo. May they rest in peace.

The action took place at an abandoned factory, about ten kilometers outside the city. The building sat in the middle of the wasteland, with the roads leading to it almost buried under dust and sand. Four AVs dropped off a team of operatives, covered by drones—over thirty specialists.

I was attached to them as an investigator, a negotiator of sorts, and an interrogation expert. The task was simple: once we took down the gang, find out how they got the intel on the convoy. Was there a mole, a breach in the corp's network, or just some dumb "luck" on the Wraiths' part—luck they'd pay for with their lives. Not that I felt bad for them. The Wraiths were outcasts, even among the nomads. They were the ones kicked out of clans for pulling particularly wild stunts. Psychotic killers, rapists, thieves who stole from their own. Kind of like a cross between biker gangs from my world and post-apocalyptic raiders.

Action in the wasteland should be more exciting than sitting in the office, right? Except I also had my own plans to push forward.

The sun was mercilessly beating down. I stood behind the heavy AV, with Lucas by my side. A hundred and fifty meters to the building, which our operatives were currently storming. Gunfire and explosions echoed in the background as I made a call to Wakako Okada.

"I get that Santo Domingo is El Capitán's turf, but he's not exactly fond of suits, and I'm wearing one despite this heat," I smirked. "Just surveillance. I need pros. The guy's a nobody, but he's meeting with an experienced runner. A basic tail would tip her off, make her suspicious. We can't afford to spook her…"

I cut myself off as Lucas yanked me down into the dust and sand. Bullets clattered against the body of the AV overhead. What the hell⁉ Our operatives aren't paying attention at all?

"Mr. Price?" Wakako asked. "Are you still there?"

"Yeah, I'm here," I replied, lying under Lucas's bulk. "I'll transfer the money now. I'm paying above the usual rate, but the job has to be perfect. I'm sending eight thousand."

"That's very generous for surveillance. Are you sure there's nothing else you need?"

"The rest will come later. We'll be in touch, Ms. Okada."

"They've got reinforcements!" Lucas shouted in my ear, drowning out the gunfire. "We need to pull out!"

And sure enough, while our operatives were storming the factory, four heavily armed Wraith vehicles had rolled in from the other side of the wasteland, painted up with skulls. Big off-roaders with mounted guns. They had machine guns, and even a missile launcher. Our team, which had been in a winning position, was now caught in a crossfire.

Of course, we'd called for backup too, but when would it arrive? Ten minutes? Twenty? We'd be dead several times over by then.

Lucas acted quickly. He grabbed me like a ragdoll and tossed me into the AV. Then he jumped in himself, manning the mounted minigun. The four barrels spat fire briefly toward the Wraiths.

The pilot, his face hidden under a black helmet, jerked the lever next to him. The heavy transport vehicle lurched and started to lift off.

I grabbed my Yukimura, thinking to take a few token shots at the Wraiths, but Lucas shoved me away from the door, wordlessly telling me to keep my corpo ass seated and let the pros handle the fighting.

The AV gained altitude. I connected to its external cameras using my deck. Damn. All four of our AVs were bugging out in sync, leaving the storm team behind. Some of the operatives had already broken into the factory, while five others were covering them from the Wraiths' reinforcements, firing desperately. It wasn't over yet.

The Wraiths' vehicles pressed forward. The maniacs in leather and painted helmets were shouting war cries, hyping themselves up. I saw one of the renegades lean out of a window, aiming a makeshift grenade launcher toward the factory. Was the distance close enough for me? Yeah. Just barely. I dumped every quickhack I had into him—optical failure, system overload, infection, overheating.

The AV kept climbing higher. Its engines roared, and now and then the minigun fired as Lucas picked off particularly dangerous enemies. I glanced at the factory roof. It was flat enough, with two enemy shooters up there—a sniper and a machine gunner.

"Take out the ones on the roof!" I shouted to Lucas as I disconnected from the cameras and rushed to the pilot. "Land the AV on the roof!" I yelled into his ear, muffled under the flight helmet. "We need to cover the team! They still have a chance!"

"We're pulling out!" the pilot replied. "Protocol says I have the right!"

He did. Without a direct order from a superior, the pilot's priority was to protect valuable assets. It was a damn paradox. The Wraiths didn't outnumber us by much. They were less well-armed but had one clear goal—kill the enemy. And what about us? The pride of Arasaka? The pilots were saving the AVs, Lucas was saving me, the commander was MIA, and the assault team was fighting alone. A damn circus.

I jumped back to the pilot and fired Yukimura into the AV's ceiling. Thankfully, my gun wouldn't do any real damage here, and there'd be no ricochet. Then I pressed the barrel to the pilot's head and screamed into his ear:

"Land this AV on the roof or I'll blow your brains out!"

Time to play commissar of the Imperial Guard. Hopefully, Lucas didn't decide to knock me out with the butt of his rifle for being too rowdy. But he was still busy with the minigun.

"Land it or I'll kill you and fly it myself!"

I wasn't exactly a great pilot, but I could manage a rough landing on the roof. Besides, the AV had autopilot, which would be more cooperative than a stubborn human.

"I'll file a complaint!" the pilot shouted.

"You will!" I agreed. "If you survive. Now land this piece of junk!"

The AV started to descend. Lucas had already taken out one of the Wraiths on the roof. I helped him with the second by overloading his systems.

Three AVs had already climbed two hundred meters or more, but ours settled on the roof, the minigun facing the Wraiths' reinforcements. I reconnected to the external cameras, this time using one still intact on the factory wall.

While Lucas fired the minigun, I hit the most brazen enemies with quickhacks, focusing especially on the drivers. Too bad I couldn't make their vehicles explode. At the same time, my deck's ice detected an incoming attack from an enemy runner. Good luck to him, and may the wind blow up his ass, as they say.

The optical overload made me let out a loud hiccup. The virus didn't hit me at all. Only the synaptic burnout caused a sharp pain in my head and a wave of nausea. A deadly combo for most humans, but it shattered against my inhuman nature. The hacks reached their targets, failing to comprehend what kind of creature I was or how to kill it.

Then the enemy runner switched to easier targets. First, Lucas flinched from the combination of an optical malfunction and a short circuit. The minigun fell silent for a moment. The Wraiths by the vehicles seized the opportunity, opening heavy fire on us and the assault team. A few light homing missiles struck the AV's roof. The entire vehicle shook. The alarm blared something unintelligible, while the pilot cursed sharply.

Damn. If I could just take out that enemy netrunner. In the Net, I could easily finish him off. Tear his essence apart and consume it.

I'd already pinpointed the runner's location. He was hiding behind a car, working through several cameras. A virtual thread connected us. It felt like the enemy was right there—close enough to kill—but his ICE was solid. My deck only had enough memory for one infection. He'd survive it easily and bounce back. What now...

I remembered my journey to the Crystal Palace. How the predatory tentacles of my informational body tore through the flimsy human shell. If only I could create one of those right now. Just one! I imagined it sliding down the virtual thread between us, searching for a vulnerability in his ICE and...

For a moment, my perception shifted. A ripple of blue passed over my vision. I felt myself slip out of my body, sliding along the virtual thread towards the enemy's digital essence. I tore a chunk from him, forcing the runner to writhe in agony. At the same time, a wave of intense pleasure washed over me.

Satisfaction.

It was a hunger that living beings couldn't comprehend.

The damage got through!

The runner's resistance indicators dropped. I tried the trick again. More damage, and another wave of euphoria surged through me. But my hands were going numb. Stop. Slow down. Especially since my cyberdeck's memory had suddenly refilled. It had recovered fast. After that virtual tentacle attack, I hit him with standard combat quickhacks—mostly overheating. Given how weakened his ICE was, it worked like a charm. The runner was floundering. His defense was falling apart, and his life was hanging by a thread.

I couldn't help myself—it was reckless, but I finished him off with another virtual tentacle, feeling that intoxicating euphoria once more. Brief flashes of memory crossed my mind. A shootout during a race. Drunken sex in a motel. Memories! I tore a few from him and consumed them. Pieces of the enemy's essence—fragments of his soul—were now being digested inside me. This was how I survived in the Net. Wandering, hunting, and grabbing whatever I could.

It was an incredible feeling.

But my physical body was falling apart. My head was spinning, my fingers were numb, my legs barely moved. My new body… was rejecting me?

I needed to calm down.

I crawled into a corner of the AV and, amid the minigun's roar, shakily popped a mild stimulant, one that also relieved muscle spasms. I chewed it without water. Gradually, the tension eased. My head cleared, and the feeling returned to my fingers. But the icy grip of death still clenched around my throat. Stay calm. We'll get through the fight and deal with everything after.

I used the camera as a proxy again. Without their runner, the Wraiths were struggling. I tossed a few malicious scripts at the most aggressive ones, then decided I'd done enough. Now it was up to the assault team to take the factory from the inside.

I lay there, panting. My head was throbbing. My body felt alien, like it was ready to throw me back into the Net's endless void. This lasted for about seven minutes before it finally eased. All that remained was exhaustion and nausea, like after using Kerenzikov. I eased the symptoms with a couple of breaths from an inhaler the corp had provided.

I checked my deck's hardware menu.

A new "embedded" quickhack had appeared, not taking up any slots. But it seemed like it wasn't really embedded into the deck—it was part of my demonic essence. The implant had just analyzed it and added a description.

Essence Rip Description: "Damages the target's nervous system, triggering internal collapse. Steals random information chains and converts them into cyberdeck memory." — Lethal — Deals damage that increases based on the target's lost health. Ineffective against drones, robots, and machines. — Damages enemy ICE. — When you kill an enemy with this script, it restores cyberdeck memory proportional to the damage dealt. — Can cause disorientation, derealization, panic, and long-term mental instability. — Increases desynchronization with your body.

Desynchronization with the body? So that's what I'd felt. This wasn't a typical script—it was the action algorithm of my inhuman essence. In those moments when I use it, I partly transform. I lose my humanity and become the demon of the Net I once was. No wonder my body rejects such a misfit essence. But the desynchronization passes with time, meaning I can use these demonic powers sparingly. I just have to know my limits. I wonder what other tricks my inhuman side has up its sleeve, and if there's any way to reduce the desynchronization?

While I was thinking and recovering, the battle for the factory was over. The remaining Wraiths reinforcements had fled into the Badlands. Those who had bunkered down inside the factory were either killed or captured. The cargo was secured.

"I must note, Mr. Price, that some of your actions contradict corporate policy," Lucas said. "However, you did act in the corporation's interests. I'll be sure to include that in my report."

The pilot remained silent, probably afraid I'd snap and blow his brains out. After a while, one of the surviving commanders from the assault team contacted me. He thanked me for my help—without much enthusiasm. It was time for me to get back to my main task—investigating.

We spent the rest of the day at the factory. It seemed like the Wraiths just got lucky with the convoy. Greed had ruined them.

The investigation took all day. No worries. I still had time. If everything went according to plan, David would only learn of his mother's "death" today and go to install the Sandevistan in the evening. But I needed to speed up my preparations.

Jenkins called again, and as usual, it was hard to tell if he was praising me or just being an ass.

"From where I'm sitting, V, they'd all be dead without you. But the operatives can't admit that some office drone saved their asses. So all the glory and the hundred grand bonus goes to some guy named Hugh Robbins. You, on the other hand, get twenty grand and a thank-you letter. I'd suggest you print that letter out, wipe your ass with it, and use the cash to hit a decent bar a couple of times."

Well, twenty grand isn't bad. It'll cover Gloria's treatment and the surveillance on David.

"And let me tell you straight, V," Arthur continued, "you shouldn't have gotten involved in this shit. Arasaka's not the kind of place where you play cowboy. They won't appreciate it. You're lucky it ended in our favor, or instead of thanks, they'd have hit you with a bunch of rule violations. Next time, just fuck off."

Jenkins had a point. I'd been reckless, risking my neck for people who'd throw me under the bus in a heartbeat. That's how corps work. Still, in that fight with the Wraiths, I'd unlocked a new ability. Gained some valuable experience.

"I'll keep that in mind next time. Just felt wrong running from a bunch of degenerates who think they're straight out of Mad Max. But whatever… I'm over it. Arthur, I need to get back to fieldwork tomorrow or the day after. Got something potentially interesting."

"Anything important?" Jenkins sounded curious.

"Nope. Not your level, but it might be useful to me."

"V..." Jenkins said, with obvious disapproval, "Have you seen our backlog from the October incident? It's about to blow up, and when it does, Abernathy will catch wind of it."

"I'll work overtime."

"Of course you will, V. Saturday night through Sunday morning. Sleep in later. Next week's gonna be rough too. Either book a hotel near the office or crash in the break room. I'll tell security to leave you alone."

Great. One field op in exchange for several days of office crunch. Not exactly a fair trade. A couple more months of this grind, and I'll show up to work in a Samurai T-shirt with a nuke in my bag. But for now, I need this job too much. Gotta tough it out, then I'll sail off on my own terms.

Back in the city, I made a couple of calls. First, the easiest and most pleasant one—Jackie.

"Hey! Look who's calling!" the mercenary greeted me cheerfully. "Miss the shooting range?"

"Unfortunately, I won't be back anytime soon. My personal life's a bit too intense. The corp's fucking me so hard even the joytoys on Jig-Jig Street would be jealous."

"You picked this life, amigo."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm calling about something else... I'll need to pick up a kid soon. It's a noble cause, you could say. Five grand."

"Judging by the pay, there's gonna be trouble."

"Maybe. Or maybe it'll go smoothly."

"Should I bring backup?"

"No, I'll bring the 'backup' myself."

"Oh man, I really don't wanna deal with your guys. I'm allergic to assholes. No offense, camarada."

"That's exactly why I need you there. You're good at defusing situations, talking to street punks in their own language, you know?"

"So what, you want me to crack jokes or pull a rabbit out of a hat?" Jackie chuckled.

"Only if you think it's necessary. The mission's diplomatic, but if diplomacy fails, we could end up with a pile of bodies. You follow?"

"It's always like that with you guys. Five grand, but if it turns into a shootout, it's seven and a half. More, because I'll have to deal with your people."

"Deal. Seven and a half? That's Evelyn Parker rates."

"Hey!" Jackie mock-protested. "You comparing me to one of your putas?"

"Not mine. Never mind. Good luck. I'll call you when and where to meet."

'My putas', huh? I chuckled silently after the call.

If we don't change what's coming in '77, that puta will screw you over, Jackie. Seven and a half grand won't cut it.

Then came another call, way less pleasant. I'd been mulling over who could handle the muscle for the upcoming op. Arasaka Security? I could probably get five specialists for free. But each of them would file a report, and that would land right on Abernathy's desk. No need to draw extra attention to Lucy. She had to be mine and mine alone.

So screw Security. I'd have to hire the Claws again. There was one Tiger boss with a terrifying, disgusting reputation, but he could keep his people in line—Jotaro Shobo. A psychopath, a maniac, and director of black braindances. He knew how to get unprecedented discipline from his Claws.

The call went off without a hitch. Like most Tiger bosses, he regularly took money from our corp. So my request for five fighters didn't surprise him. Considering my high standards, I had to drop twenty-five grand. But apparently, two of them had Sandevistans. That's some serious firepower.

Today was as long as a typical Heywood family's list of overdue debts. But overall, I was satisfied. Mastered a new ability, and I was ready for the next stage of the plan.

Before bed, I downed a couple of tranquilizers, since my nerves just wouldn't calm the fuck down. Slowly burning out. But whatever. Eventually, I'll cut ties with the corp and start climbing to the top of Night City on my own. With those thoughts, I drifted off to sleep.