Cyberpunk 2077: Demons of Night City

"The optics need to be replaced," Viktor announced after the examination.

"That bad?" I asked. "Even the left eye?"

"The bullet lodged in the metalized bone tissue of your skull. That's what saved you, but the deformation caused a ton of microfractures in the optics. It'll still work, but the interference isn't going anywhere. You're not exactly strapped for cash right now, so I suggest a full replacement. Also, you've got localized hemorrhaging near the frontal lobe. Your implants sealed off the blood vessels in time, or you wouldn't be feeling so chipper right now. We'll have to clear that up too. And your skull needs realigning… That'll take a few visits. Need to do it right or it'll lose durability."

"Sounds like a lot of hassle."

"Yeah, well, tough luck," Viktor shrugged. "Bullets to the head aren't great for your health. They teach that in school. Think about what kind of optics you want, and we'll get started."

Optics, huh…

Getting shot through walls didn't sit right with me. I wanted to be able to do that too. That last fight proved that even a single implant could tip the scales. You can't always rely on external cameras. Your own eyes are just as important.

"Kiroshi 'Oracle,'" I requested.

Viktor sighed, clearly not thrilled.

"You want everything at once, huh? That's heavy chrome, V. Comes with a lot of extra effects that put strain on your nervous system.

"It scans through obstacles up to 17.5 meters, 35 meters in open space. Highlights people, cameras, devices, and local access points. It's not just an optical implant—it's a full-on multifunctional radar. Heaviest piece of civilian-grade optics on the market. Well, 'civilian' in the loosest sense. No regular citizen has a reason to get something like this, but it's technically legal."

"Heavy chrome?" I smirked, my left eye glitching again. "Getting shot in the head is heavier."

"Can't argue with that."

"Send the bill to Angelica Whelan. She promised to cover today's festivities."

"Girl paying for both of you? Lucky bastard. Pick your lenses."

"You know what? No lenses."

"Going full raw chrome? Trying out a new style?"

"Something like that."

And so, after all the fun from earlier, I slipped into a chemically-induced sleep, waking up to see the world through new eyes.

"Ease into the scanning modes," Viktor warned. "And yeah, I know telling you to rest is pointless, but your nervous system and metabolism are showing some concerning markers. Right now, tumors are easy to remove, but remember Logan Garcia? Guy burned out so hard he had to leave the sport early. There are limits even cyberware can't fix."

Viktor's words barely registered—I was too caught up in the flood of new sensory input. I couldn't see through walls, not exactly, but Oracle highlighted key objects and could generate a rough 3D projection of whatever was behind an obstacle. Plastics, plywood, concrete—it all scanned fine. Insulating materials, though, were trickier.

Unfortunately, I couldn't send quickhacks through walls, but shooting through thin cover? No problem. Just needed a gun with solid stopping power.

I looked in the mirror.

White, featureless eyes stared back. Without cosmetic lenses, the optics looked purely mechanical—more like equipment than part of a living body. It gave me a real chromehead look, especially since my cyberlimb was usually hidden under clothes.

After thanking Viktor, I headed home. We had a small crew meeting to discuss our next big job.

Falco arrived first, still half-asleep and loading up on coffee and smokes.

"Where'd you stash Eve?" I whispered to Lucy while Falco was in the kitchen.

Lucy smirked and nodded toward the wardrobe. I cracked the door open.

Parker sat inside, hugging her knees, gazing at me with those shimmering doll-like eyes.

"Can I come out now, handsome?" she purred.

"No. Not yet," I replied, shutting the door.

Great. Now I didn't just have skeletons in my closet—I had a fully functional set of organs in there too.

Complete package: ambitious escort doll.

Once we wrapped up the meeting, I'd invite everyone to the club so she wouldn't be stuck in the damn wardrobe all night. Gotta take responsibility for the people you kidnap.

One by one, the crew arrived. Falco, then Panam, then Becca.

Maybe we'd bring in more people later, but for now, this was enough for the first planning session.

"Alright," I started, rubbing my temple. My skull still felt off—Viktor had fixed the major damage, but the bone was still healing. "We've worked together before. I liked it. Hope you did too."

"Yeah," Becca grinned. "Shit was fun, choom, but I could use more shootouts."

"This one's gonna be… complicated," I warned. "We're stealing cutting-edge tech from one of the most dangerous corps in the world. If anyone wants out, no hard feelings."

"Stop trying to scare us, V," Panam cut in. "Just get to the point. What, where, and how?"

I pulled up a holo of Konpeki Plaza and ran through the plan.

Didn't stray too far from Dex's blueprint in that other timeline—except this time, I'd secured early access and better cover. All that info I squeezed out of Frank Nostra was about to pay off.

"We'll have cloned credentials for Arasaka's network maintenance division. They've never been to Konpeki before, so no need for face-matching. We go in as techs, no suspicion if we move through service areas.

"But before we even get inside, we need to steal another piece of cutting-edge tech—Militech's 'Flathead' drone."

I gave them the rundown on what it did and why we needed it.

"The riskiest part is breaching the suite. We need to grab the target from the stash, swap it with a fake, and ghost the fuck out. Sounds simple, but…" I sighed. "Shit happens. We need to decide who's on what."

"Sorry, V," Falco spoke up. "Maybe I'm still half-asleep, but mind if I ask a dumb question?"

"Shoot."

"Why not just steal the thing with the drone? It's invisible, moves through vents, and if something goes wrong, no big loss."

"Good idea, but the problem is, we need the drone for controlling the hotel's local network," I explained.

But… something clicked.

A thought was forming, but Falco beat me to it.

"So… maybe we should just steal two of these drones?" Falco suggested. "One takes out the netrunner, the other snags the chip. Or am I talking outta my ass?"

I sat in silence for a moment, then said, "Alright. Back to the last point—we're stealing multiple bots from Militech. The bypass tool for corporate encryption should still work, so that won't be an issue. And after that… same plan, but the bot lifts the chip instead of us."

"Sounds clean on paper," Panam said thoughtfully. "But we need contingencies. You got blueprints for this fancy roach motel?"

"Yeah. Got the full layout, even schematics for the comms systems."

"Good. Hand 'em over. Two drivers in the team is overkill, so I'll handle the tech side. Gotta see if we can cut power to the hotel if things go to shit or maybe lock down the elevators."

Smart move.

"I'll try to dig up more intel on Konpeki's infrastructure—what security measures they have, when the last updates were made."

"What's up with Maelstrom?" Becca asked. "When do we get to fuck 'em up?"

"One of the corps is leaking info to them," I explained. "Lucy and I are intercepting that leak and getting to the convoy before the psychos do. So we don't have to go at it with Maelstrom, but Militech? That's another story."

No one had any more questions.

If this went well, Yorinobu might not even notice the theft right away. We'd swap the relic with a fake—a hollowed-out dummy loaded with a virus to fool the storage unit. Any serious inspection would expose the fraud, but it's not like Yorinobu checks his stash every hour.

Another thought—maybe plant a spy cam in the suite? Or rig one of the existing cameras to feed us footage. If we got lucky, we could pull some real leverage.

"Alright, no more questions? Then let's celebrate at the club."

The vote was unanimous.

I hadn't had much time to manage the club yet—too busy with Angie's job and prepping for Konpeki. But after renegotiating the deal with the Animals, the place was finally pulling some profit. Not much, but a solid twenty K had rolled in.

Still had work to do. Needed to hire security, upgrade defenses, renovate the section I planned to live in. But it felt good going somewhere that actually belonged to me.

"You good?" Lucy asked unexpectedly.

We were on a couch upstairs, just the two of us. The others were downstairs by the bar.

"Me?" I blinked. "Never better. Why?"

"Your hand's shaking. You don't notice?"

I frowned. Sure enough, my right hand twitched slightly every few moments. I barely felt it—too lost in thought.

"It's nothing," I waved it off. "Double Sandevistan run and a bullet to the head… takes a toll. I'll be fine tomorrow. You figure anything out about Kiwi? Think the Brazilians hired her?"

Lucy nodded.

"She bailed, left everything behind," she said. "I'd like to think she was too ashamed to face me, but she probably just heard about Faraday's death. Figured Arasaka was tying up loose ends. But if the Brazilians offered protection and money… yeah, she might've come back."

"Makes sense."

"What's your next move?"

"Waiting on Angie. She says she's working something out." I shook my head. "I really don't wanna go to war with Brazilian intelligence. That'd mean losing everything—" I gestured around the club. "Back to hiding, waiting for the next hit to come outta nowhere."

"If you wanna drop it, I don't care," Lucy said flatly. "I'm not chasing Kiwi for revenge. Don't stick with this just because of me."

"Noted."

That night, I took it easy. No hard liquor, kept an eye on my biomonitor.

When I got home in the early morning, Angie called.

"V, how you holding up? From the ripper's bill, looks like you got fucked up."

"Better today, but still recovering."

Truth was, most of the money had gone to my Oracle upgrade, but Vik had marked it as a simple "optics replacement" and spread the cost across the invoice.

"I got two updates for you," Angie said playfully.

"Bad and really bad?"

"Nope. Good and pleasant."

"Well, that's new. Let's hear it."

"Good news—the Brazil problem? Solvable. Pretty much already handled. Just gotta meet someone, they'll smooth things over. Pleasant news—I want you to come with me."

"Will I need to shoot anyone?" I asked. "What gear should I bring?"

"Shoot? Maybe flirty glances. Just bring an expensive suit and whatever helps you have a good time."

I really hoped Angie wasn't being overly optimistic. Last thing I wanted was another shootout with Brazilian operatives.

If things went sideways, I still had that number their agent gave me. Could try calling, negotiating a ceasefire. But burning bridges with the Animals was risky too—club was just starting to turn a profit.

After sleeping in, I let Evelyn help me get ready.

Black and gold suit, anarchy pin on the lapel, even a half-decent hairstyle. Didn't have new monokatanas yet, so I grabbed a neurotoxin knife and throwing stilettos. For guns, I stuck to my usual loadout but added a Lexington to the mix.

Three pistols in total. Smart one, electromagnetic one, and plain ol' dumb Lexington.

Angie met me near the club. She'd swapped her sporty look for something more refined.

I was actually getting curious about where we were headed.

"You'll find out soon," Angie said with a wink.

We barely had any security with us—just a driver from the Animals who took us to the outskirts of Watson. We entered a nondescript building in the industrial zone, nothing special on the outside. Inside, though, we were met by three armed guards with no insignia. Angie flashed some kind of card, and they let us through to what looked like a normal elevator.

But when we went down, the whole vibe changed instantly.

We stepped into what could only be described as a high-end dive. Dim pink-and-purple lighting, bass-heavy music, the thick scent of incense and synth drugs in the air. Underground club? That'd be my guess.

Angie took my arm and whispered, "Relax."

Yeah, sure. Kinda hard to relax when just yesterday people were trying to kill me, and now I was being dragged into some underground hellhole.

The place had plenty of side rooms, but I didn't hear any customers. Just staff and security. Eventually, we entered a room with three cops on guard. Unexpected. And these weren't your usual donut-munchers—they were kitted out in full tactical gear. Body armor, shotguns, and two security drones parked against the wall.

"Ladies and gentlemen," one of them said, "please place your weapons over here. Blades, too."

"We're unarmed today," Angie answered sweetly.

I reluctantly started unloading my gear—pistols, grenades, knives.

"Holy shit," one of the cops muttered as I pulled out a fourth grenade. "Where the hell were you going, man? Fifth Corpo War?"

"Just looking to have a good time," I grinned. "If I was expecting a bad time, I'd be packing heavier."

"Fair enough," he nodded. "Go on in. Boss is waiting—before he gets too fucked up."

We were here to meet someone high up in NCPD? Maybe.

A final guard in a sharp suit stood by the next door. He held up a finger to his lips—Wait a sec, boss is talking.

From inside, a voice boomed, drowning out the sound of running water and music.

"You fuckin' morons! We barely tax these people! The least they can do is pay a decent goddamn bribe! Have some shame!"

The voice sounded familiar. Where had I heard it before?

"No, fuck no, and hell no!" the voice roared. "This city runs on three things—profit, compromise, and my massive fucking patience, which is NOT unlimited!"

Yeah, I knew this guy. But from where?

"Not time to burn it all down yet," he continued. "Maybe they'll wise up. Give 'em a hint, Paul. Run an inspection, make them sweat. Alright, I got guests. No, not hookers—those are already here. Later, choom."

The guard in the suit stepped aside, gesturing us in. Angie pulled me forward.

The door opened to a luxurious VIP lounge. Small pool, a fountain shimmering in the dim lighting, and a massive couch where a dark-skinned man lounged with three women draped over him. He was wearing the top half of a suit… and leopard-print boxers. His slacks were on the floor nearby.

The women? Chrome everywhere. Golden or crimson skin, intricate cyberware, one had a transparent panel in her abdomen, showing off her glowing uterus tattoo. Christ. That was some next-level fetish shit.

Their doll-like eyes shimmered as one of them handed the man a cigar. He took a deep pull, letting thick smoke roll from his lips.

"Angie!" he grinned. "Tilda called me yesterday. Shit, you guys got yourselves a situation. And this your guy?"

"V. He's the one who figured out who's been screwing with us."

The man snapped his fingers. "Vincent Price, right? Ex-corpo, owns a club now?"

"Honored you know me, sir," I replied, no sarcasm.

"Well, it's Night City. I know everything I should know."

Angie had brought me to none other than Lucius Rhyne. Still breathing. Still technically the mayor of Night City.

"So, you do merc work too?" Rhyne smirked. "Dirty deeds done dirt cheap?"

I chuckled. "Nah. My rates are high."

"Right answer!" Rhyne laughed, grabbing a whiskey glass from one of his girls. "Who's gonna value you if you don't value yourself?"

Yeah. Not much of a politician, this guy. More like a fixer, or even a gang boss.

Which, honestly? Probably the only kind of successful mayor Night City could have.

I'd been skeptical about Angie fixing our Brazil problem. But with this guy pulling strings? It suddenly seemed very possible.

"Already handling your little mess," Rhyne waved a hand. "My friends in MaxTac are very interested in how a foreign agency is pulling netrunner attacks in my sovereign city. Trust me, they'll be apologizing. Either officially… or how I prefer—financially." He grinned. "Gears are in motion, kids. Don't sweat it. However… I will need something from you."

"What can we do for you, Mr. Rhyne?" Angie asked.

"Whack that fucker Peralez," Rhyne said, dead serious. "Before the elections, yeah?"

I damn near choked. Angie gave an awkward smile. Rhyne held his stern face for a moment… then burst out laughing.

"Shit, you shoulda seen your faces!" He waved it off. "Relax, guys. That idiot's got no chance against me anyway. But, on a serious note—"

One of the girls lifted an inhaler to his mouth.

"Ahh—fuck! That's the good shit!" Rhyne shook his head. "Right, where was I? Oh yeah—find those rats. The netrunners. The spooks. Bury them. Deep. They snuck in here quiet like vermin, so that's exactly how we'll deal with them.

"They could've come to me, worked out a deal. I would've sorted it. Cheap, too. But nooo! They wanna play spies. Find 'em, and end them. And don't worry about consequences—I guarantee it. You're not gonna be the ones killing those fuckers." He grinned wide. "They're gonna die from their own stupidity and greed."

…Yeah. Kiwi should not have come back to this city.