CYBERPUNK: Travel to 2075

For more advanced chapters visit our patreon

Let's Start, 2075

"Boss, hold onto those things for now. We'll come back to get them later."

Karl stepped toward the door. He didn't know exactly what was happening outside, but Oliver's car was parked nearby. If it was damaged, they might have to carry their newly purchased gear back on foot—a thought Karl didn't relish.

Looking out through the shattered door, Karl saw the street in chaos. A hulking man with yellow hair, sunglasses, and a crew cut was wielding a Militech MK.31 Heavy Machine Gun, unloading a relentless barrage of bullets at a truck stalled on the road.

Nearby, two familiar hooded bodies lay sprawled across the street, euros scattered around them. Bullet holes riddled their torsos. The robbers who had recently stormed the Mewtwo store had clearly met a brutal, random fate.

"What the hell is going on?"

Jack joined Karl at the door, only to recoil when he caught sight of the chaos. "Heavy machine guns? What is this mess?"

"My car!" Oliver shouted, his face twisted in anguish. He pointed at the visible dent in his car door, likely the result of stray gunfire. "That was my sister's birthday gift to me!"

"And? Are you planning to kill both sides over a dent?" Karl asked. His left hand grazed the grenade he'd taken off the Maelstrom gang a while ago.

"I'm not going that far!" Oliver retorted. "I'm pissed, sure, but they're armed to the teeth. Let's just get out of here."

Karl scoffed. Too radical? Compared to the mercs he had worked with in the past—who often took out entire families for petty offenses—Karl felt downright conservative.

Outside, the gunfight escalated. The truck crew retaliated, firing at the yellow-haired man. However, they were unaware of a flanking group that was creeping up behind their vehicle.

The first of these attackers, a man with a black mohawk, fired an Arasaka Copperhead with mechanical precision. At his side, a petite girl with pale skin, green pigtails, and a pink M-76E Omaha pistol joined in, unleashing a hail of bullets. Within seconds, the truck's defenders collapsed in a heap, their weapons silenced.

"All clear!" the girl shouted toward the yellow-haired man.

"Rebecca," the man called back, nodding in acknowledgment. He then turned to the mohawk-wearing shooter. "Pilar, grab what we need, and let's move!"

"Got it," Pilar replied as he rushed to the back of the truck.

Jack, watching from the doorway, muttered, "Looks like mercenaries, just like us."

"Then there's nothing more to see," Karl said, turning away and gathering his things. "Oliver, are we fixing your car or heading to the apartment?"

"It's fine. I'll deal with the dent later. Let's get to the apartment first," Oliver replied, shaking off his earlier frustration.

As they packed up, the Mewtwo store owner dashed outside, frantically retrieving the scattered euros from the dead robbers. He cursed under his breath as he counted his recovered losses.

Once everything was loaded into Oliver's car, the group set off for the towering super-skyscraper. As they passed the scene of the shootout, Mann, the yellow-haired man, cast a glance in their direction. His interest, however, was fleeting, and he quickly returned to directing his team.

Karl, seated in the passenger seat, observed Mann as they drove by. That guy's subdermal armor is insane. Taking all that fire without flinching... impressive.

The thought lingered briefly before fading. For Karl, this was just another day in Night City.

The rest of the drive to the skyscraper was uneventful. Upon arrival, they contacted the apartment manager to finalize their lease.

The skyscraper apartments were company-owned, and the manager, while professional, operated with the strictness of an old-school landlord. After reviewing a laundry list of rules and fees, Karl and Oliver both secured units—Karl on the fourth floor and Oliver on the fifth—for €1,000 per month. Oliver had hoped to be Karl's neighbor, but only one unit on the fourth floor was available.

The apartments came fully furnished, but the catch was clear: every amenity came with a price.

"Private phone: €10 activation fee, then €0.75 per minute," Karl read from the manual. "TV: €50 deposit and €1 per hour of use. They even have vending machines in the rooms. Talk about milking us dry."

Karl walked over to the vending machine and spent €15 on three small colas. He tossed one to Jack and another to Oliver before cracking open his own can. He wasn't a fan of the brand's overly sweet flavor, but it was the only option available.

"What do you think of the place, Karl?" Jack asked, sprawled across the couch like a contented cat.

"It's livable."

"Just livable?" Oliver frowned. "I haven't lived in a better place since going independent at eighteen."

"How old are you now?"

"Twenty-four. Didn't I tell you that when we first met?"

"I forgot."

Six years on your own, and this is your best? Oliver thought. What a rough life.

Karl, however, felt no pride in his current accommodations. For him, this was just a step forward in his new life in 2075.

As he watched his companions lounge around, Karl took another sip of his cola.

His journey in this cyberpunk world was only beginning.

"Gulp."

"So sweet."

For advanced chapters 👇🏼

patreon.com/Thereator