Cyberpunk 2077: Demons of Night City

TN: Apologies for the disappearance, had some personal matters to take care of to this week.

"Wait, seriously?! Dead?!" I shouted, nearly jumping off the couch, snapping the cigarette I'd just lit in two. "Was there an autopsy? What did it say?"

"All clean, V. They cut her open every which way," Angelica replied. "Three different ripperdocs took a look. It was definitely an overdose. Sure, someone could've dosed her on purpose, but the cameras didn't catch anything either."

"Fuck…" I muttered.

"Two weeks from now, Hughes is fighting. The stakes will be way bigger. We cannot screw this up."

"Angelica... I'm a little busy myself, you know. I've got things going on. Important things."

I tried flicking the broken cigarette into the ashtray but missed slightly. The cheap tobacco—or whatever the hell it was supposed to be—spilled across the table.

"Vincent, please. This is really, really important," Angelica pleaded, sounding genuinely desperate. "It's life and death. There are going to be some huge bets… If these people lose their money, I could lose my head. Sixty thousand, okay? And my eternal gratitude."

"Fine, fine. Toss in a couple of those shots while you're at it—the good stuff. Send me the autopsy results and everything you've got on her last days. Where she was, who she drank with. I need every detail."

"Done! You won't regret it."

"I really fucking hope not," I sighed, cutting the call.

"Athletes again?" Lucy asked, sitting at her terminal, typing something on a virtual keyboard.

"The very same. Right before New Year's, Vik found a neurovirus in a judo fighter. I was planning to question her on the 31st, but they talked me into taking a break. Know what happened? Two days ago, they found her dead. Supposed overdose." I scowled, searching for my favorite lighter but couldn't find it anywhere. It had just been in my hand. Fucking nerves. My white shirt clung to my back, damp with sweat. The biomonitor showed an elevated heart rate.

A crimson glow suddenly lit up in front of me, chasing away some of the apartment's usual gloom. I leaned forward to light the cigarette and nodded.

"Thanks, Eve."

"Don't overwork yourself, V," Evelyn advised with a graceful stride as she headed toward the bar counter, where Lucy was seated.

Evelyn's short dress shimmered faintly in the dim light, the same one she'd worn the night she was taken. She set a steaming cup of coffee in front of Lucy and gently tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.

"She's moving more gracefully now," I observed.

"I updated her program," Lucy replied, removing her visor. "I don't know much about doll tech, but it's simpler than it seems. You can buy presets for everything in Kabuki. Housekeeping, dancing, massages, you name it."

"You getting into this?" I smirked.

"It's kinda funny," she admitted. "I'll say this: I judged your plan at first, but after I downloaded her full logs… We're genuinely doing her a favor."

"Yeah. Her plan was absolute bullshit."

"Forget her plan. The Voodoo Boys would've flatlined her. No question."

"Not every joytoy gets to be Lizzie and take on this city," I mused. "And even Lizzie didn't live long after her revolution."

Evelyn started to wander off, following some preprogrammed task, but Lucy snapped her fingers, calling her back.

"Did he sleep with you?" Lucy asked, gesturing toward me.

"Once," Evelyn replied calmly. "He specifically requested me and caused a scene with the administrator. Made threats about his connections."

Lucy burst into bright, unrestrained laughter.

"That is so you, V. And how was it? Worth the eddies?"

"It started okay. Then some Voodoo Boy hacked her."

"Did you notice immediately, or… keep going?"

"Immediately. Kinda hard not to."

Lucy sat Evelyn on her lap and connected to her port. Both their eyes began to glow faintly, though Lucy's was noticeably brighter. She was probably tweaking the doll's settings or pulling some data.

Meanwhile, I couldn't shake the damn athletes from my mind. Something about this whole situation felt off. Angelica had been stressing how bad things were, but according to my future knowledge, she should still be alive in '77. Maybe she was exaggerating, pulling at my emotions. Or maybe things really were that bad, and she'd still manage to pull through. Or…

There was a third possibility—my interference. The butterfly effect. But sports betting? That wasn't something I'd ever been involved in before. I think. Shit. I needed to get to the bottom of this.

Lucy disconnected from Evelyn and gestured at the coffee.

"Drink it yourself. And bring me…"

"Absinthe?" Evelyn offered.

"Sure. Want some?" Lucy asked me. "You're wound up tighter than a netrunner on speed. Need a massage? Or should I tell Eve to handle it?"

"The more I think about this case, the more holes I see," I admitted.

"Like what?

"Somebody's fucking with the Animals' fixed fights, but they're not profiting from the results. They've checked every time—no surprise jackpots. What's the point? What's the angle?" I vented. "Unless it's…"

"About sabotaging the Animals' business," Evelyn finished for me, emerging from the kitchen.

"Ooooh. Criminal mastermind at work," Lucy quipped, walking up to Evelyn and giving her a sharp slap on the rear. The doll let out a sultry sigh, winking playfully at her new mistress.

"Is that part of her programming?" I asked.

Lucy shrugged and gave me a detailed explanation anyway.

"It's trickier than with robots. The chip interacts directly with her brain. Yeah, surprise—she's got one. I'm trying to lift as many behavioral restrictions as I can, leaving only the essentials. So she'll follow orders and forget everything once we let her go."

"Otherwise, she'll think like normal?"

"Ideally. And the best part—she'll have access to all her memories. No need to interrogate or extract anything. Just ask."

Evelyn handed Lucy a glass filled with a greenish drink and plenty of ice.

"I messaged her boss, saying she wouldn't show up for work," Lucy continued. "Some asshole called back, threatening hellfire, but Eve brushed him off. When Yorinobu sends her a message, it'll come to us. Naturally, we'll scrub all traces after."

"Good. Tomorrow we'll regroup and finalize the plan. Tonight, though, I need to swing by Vik's, then hit Lizzie's. Got a meet with an informant there. After that, how about helping me chase down leads on this sports mess?"

"Don't know…" Lucy stretched, then glanced at Evelyn, lounging on the couch. "I was planning to stay in tonight. Relax. Recharge."

"They bumped the reward to sixty. C'mon, your help would really come in handy."

"Fine. Wait for me at Lizzie's. I'll take a quick shower and head over."

I didn't spend long at Viktor's. He started with questions about my symptoms after using the Sandevistan. I didn't lie but tweaked my answers, leaving out how damn good it feels in the heat of action.

After the Q&A, Vik sat me down and reconnected the Kerenzikov in under two minutes—no anesthetic. It made me feel a hell of a lot more confident, especially with the challenges ahead. I really hoped things at Konpeki wouldn't go hardcore, but who knew?

Next, I headed to Lizzie's to meet with Frank Nostra. At the bar, I spotted Jackie Wells nursing three empty shot glasses and looking gloomier than usual.

"You alright?" I asked, taking the seat next to him.

"Yeah, mierda's just fucked lately. I got this decent gig from Dexter DeShawn, can you believe that? So I pulled in T-Bug, another nomad buddy of mine, and…"

"What happened?" I feigned curiosity.

"Client bailed, that's what."

"What a tragedy," I said, shaking my head.

"What's with the extra-smug face today, mano?"

Honestly, it was hard not to smirk. Watching someone mope about dodging their own funeral? Priceless.

"Just a pain-in-the-ass gig with pro sports. Got a heap of trouble dumped on me," I deflected.

"Well, if you ever need—" Jackie started, a hopeful edge to his voice.

"I'll let you know. But no shooting for now. This is more investigation—neuroviruses, suspicious deaths."

"Eh, not my thing," Jackie nodded. "Anyway, Wakako's been after me to call her. Some corpo chick went missing. Maybe this one'll pan out."

"It will," I said confidently.

Probably about Sandra Dorsett. Then again, corpos vanish in Night City all the time.

I eventually found Frank. He was still on edge, visibly nervous.

"So, how's Michiko?" I asked. "Easier or harder to jerk it to than Susan?"

"Fuck off, V. You know… she talked to me. Should've felt proud, I guess, but she talked to just about everyone in the department. Everyone but the janitors."

"Jealous?"

"I said, fuck off. Don't throw me off track." Frank cracked his knuckles anxiously. "She's… calm. Friendly, even. Asks the most innocent questions. 'How's it going here? Any challenges?' But it's unnerving. She's clearly not the type to make snap judgments. She's observing, analyzing. That thoroughness? That's what's got me sweating."

"We'll tread carefully," I assured him. "That intel I passed on the Voodoo Boys—useful?"

"Absolutely! No one likes those assholes. Some of it went to archives, some was shared with Nightwatch. And yeah, I bragged about it to the new boss."

"Perfect. Might even get you a promotion. And the info I asked for?"

Frank handed me a file. "Hotels again, plus some data on Militech and Maelstrom. What the hell are you cooking, V?"

"Might've accidentally set up a threesome, but that's not confirmed yet."

"Spare me the details. I meant the intel."

"Everything you need to know is already in your hands," I smirked, slipping him a slim folder. "Here's something extra. Fresh dirt on the 6th Street scuffles with Kang Tao. Might come in handy."

After trading info, I killed some time reviewing the files while waiting for Lucy. Maelstrom hadn't hit any Militech convoys yet, at least according to Arasaka intel. Might need to grab drinks with Jackie and casually dig for updates—see if Dex had ordered the bot from Maelstrom yet.

The booth door opened. I'd only given access to Lucy.

"Should we chill first?" she asked. "Or head out now?"

"Up to you."

We hung around Lizzie's a bit longer before heading to the first lead on the dead judoka. The trail led to a bar called Electric Orgasm. At the entrance stood a familiar figure. I made a deliberate effort to act like I didn't know him, handing Solomon Reed a printed photo of the deceased.

"Afternoon. This girl drop by on New Year's?" I asked.

"Afternoon. You two don't exactly look like cops," replied the former FIA agent and ex-mentor of So Mi, the woman he once recruited to the NUSA. The man she'd been ordered to kill. Now a humble bouncer at a dive popular with mercs.

"Correct. We're not cops. Hired by her sports manager. Look." I showed him a copy of her contract.

Reed nodded and answered in detail:

"I remember her. Hard to forget someone who tries to break your nose."

"Seriously?" I blinked. "She overdid it?"

"Big time. By midnight, she was picking fights with other patrons. Her friends tried to rein her in, but she was already too far gone. We had to drag her out. She tried to throw a few moves on me, but it's tough when you're barely standing."

And when your opponent's been through real combat training—not the sports kind.

"Mind if we check the cameras?" Lucy asked.

"Sure. I'll show you the footage. Henry, cover me for a few minutes," Reed called to a colleague, then turned back to us. "What happened to her? She missing?"

"Dead," I replied.

"Got it. Let me pull up the footage."

Reed ended up sharing not just the New Year's footage but several previous visits from the judoka as well. Turns out, she was a regular here, though she usually stuck to her regimen and didn't drink.

Honestly, the thought of recruiting Reed crossed my mind—he's got skills—but I know his type too well. Despite what NUSA did to him, the moment Myers gives him a nod, he'd be back at attention. Better to keep my distance.

Back to the investigation.

"Most likely, someone slipped her or sold her something with a higher concentration of active compounds," I suggested after reviewing the footage. "She didn't take much, but it hit her like a freight train in half an hour. Not even solid chrome could save her."

Next stop was her "home"—a rented flat in one of the megabuildings. Standard one-room coffin. Mess everywhere, energy drink cans scattered, and women's clothing tossed around like confetti. What we cared about was her computer.

I pulled out a small flashlight and shone it across the old keyboard in different spectrums.

"Any foreign prints?" Lucy asked.

"Better than that," I said with a smirk. "Her own prints are almost non-existent. Two options: either she decided to type in gloves before New Year's, or someone else was here. Let's dig into the deleted data."

We set up with two laptops, trying to recover what had been erased. Normally, you can at least get fragments back, but this time we were stonewalled.

"Clean sweep," I sighed.

Lucy gestured for silence, her brow furrowed in thought. Then she spoke:

"Let's check the roof."

At the top of the building, Lucy sifted through cables and network devices, running scans. It took about fifteen minutes before she pulled up a list of IP addresses.

"Radio, news, braindance sites, porn… more news, more porn, and… a secure channel. Interesting," I mused, comparing it with data from the memories I'd lifted off the Slider. "Could be she was remotely updating her implants. Not critical systems, but maybe software for braindances. They could've used that to send her the virus."

We followed the signal trail to its relay points, hailing a cab to avoid any ambushes like last time. The first stop was an abandoned building near the Biotechnica flats. Inside, we found a hidden room packed with equipment—generators, batteries, a relay, and several computers. Everything was neatly set up.

I shot Angie a quick text:

"Start celebrating and count your eddies. I've got a juicy lead. Details later."

We got to work examining the setup. Sometimes in stories, the hero recognizes someone's work by their scent or some subtle, personal touch. I've read that in a few detective novels. Right now, staring at the lines of code, I felt something similar—recognition. The encryption, protocols, even the extra programs…

"Lucy…" I said quietly. "If you were in on something like this, you'd tell me, right?"

"Relax, V," she replied. "I get it. It does look like my work. But… no. It's not mine. There's only one other person who comes to mind."

"Hm. Fate's got a sense of humor, doesn't it?"

"Yeah," she said coldly. "She's back in the city. And she's not alone. Kiwi was never a specialist in neuroviruses. That thing Viktor found? Neither she nor I could've done that."

"So someone hired her. Her, and a few other runners, to pull off this op. Kiwi's probably their local guide for Night City netrunning. They've got a separate expert for the viruses. What will you do if you meet her?"

"Don't know," Lucy replied in the same flat tone, then gestured first to the hidden entrance we'd used, then held up three fingers.

Got it. My whole body tensed, ready for a fight. I couldn't hear any footsteps, but I trusted Lucy's upgraded hearing. Gotta get similar implants for myself one of these days. Carefully, I started drawing my weapon while keeping my tone casual.

"Think it through ahead of time. Personally, I don't give a shit about Kiwi, but she's a serious threat to you."

The hidden door cracked open slightly. Someone tried to toss in an EMP grenade.