Friday Night Firefight: A Cyberpunk Isekai

"So, you don't have a place to stay, do you?"

It was less a question and more Fred making an informed statement. He looked me over and I could see a flash of something pass his eyes before he stood up and motioned for me to follow him.

"Let's get you something to eat. You deserve it after the beating you just took." He released a good-natured laugh which helped lessen some of the sting from his completely factual statement. He guided us down the street towards a food stall whose neon purple glow lights and pictures of noodles and rice bowls drew me in like a moth to the flame.

My stomach rumbled, reminding me I hadn't eaten any solid food since coming to this world. The ripper Dakota had got to fix me up had probably poked an IV into my arm to make sure I got enough nutrients in me while I recovered. They could have also just squeezed some paste or something into my mouth while I was unconscious. There was a vending machine at the bus depot that sold something called Holobites Peach Pie that looked kind of like go-gurt. Dakota could have squeezed some of that in my mouth while I was recuperating. I shook the thought of buying a half liquid, half solid peach pie out of my mind and instead focused on the noodle stand in front of us. My mouth watered thinking about the first real food I'd get to eat in Night City.

Fred followed my gaze towards the noodle stand and let out a boisterous laugh. "Nah, too expensive choom. We ain't celebrating. Just trying to get some energy back into you."

He guided us further down the street towards a small cart half a block away. It looked like someone had welded a wire fence onto one of those old park grills. Placed atop the fence, with a lit fire underneath, was some kind of meat. I hoped.

"Charlie," Fred called out in greeting. "How's the night treating you?"

"Eh. It's been slow. I was just about to pack up shop when I noticed you making your way over." The older guy behind the grill pushed the meat around the fence with a thin strip of metal he'd bent into the shape of a pair of tongs. After he made sure the meat was nice and hot he fumbled under the cart and came up with two pieces of bread.

Hot dogs. I felt stupid for not realizing that he was cooking hot dogs at his food stand. But, in all fairness, I had just been beaten over the head. Didn't they call them scop dogs here in Night City? I didn't know what the difference between the two was, but the smell was amazing.

I stared at the food, not caring that the scop dogs probably weren't filled with real meat, but at the same time uncomfortable for being forced to lean on Fred's charity. We had just met and it was painfully obvious that he was homeless and unemployed. And here he was going to use whatever money had had managed to scrounge up to feed a guy he'd just met.

The clothes he wore told the story of someone who didn't have a fixed address or a disposable income, and the bag over his shoulder was ratty and one step up from broken. But then again, I couldn't really judge his appearance as I was standing there in jean shorts and a grey shirt stained with drops of my own blood.

Charlie handed two of the hot dogs to us and I pretended not to notice as Fred put up a finger and gave a small nod of his head towards me. Charlie wrapped a second scop dog with another piece of bread and handed it to me with a smile on his face. And then Fred and I were off, munching on our food as we walked through the streets. I couldn't understand why we weren't trying to find some out of the way place to stand and eat our food in peace, but I was content to let Fred guide us. He seemed to want to get us away from the area quickly. He looked back at me and, as if reading my mind, motioned me closer.

"Officer Kirk was giving you 'the look'. You probably didn't notice, but I wanted to get you out of there before he started anything."

I had no clue who Officer Kirk was or what was so wrong about 'the look' he was allegedly giving me.

"Some badges don't like it when we 'loiter,'" said Fred with a note of disgust in his voice. "Officer Kirk works the beat around here and he definitely saw Dennis beating on you, but he didn't move in to stop it. Not that most badges care about what goes on between all of us. As long as we don't mess with the straphangers, badges mostly just leave us alone. But to Kirk, it would have been preferable if Dennis had gone too far and caved your head in. One less homeless out on the streets, and he gets to lock Dennis away for murder."

My shock was written plainly on my face and Fred just nodded. "The badges are a gang just like all the others in the city."

He chewed his scop dog as we walked half a block before he stopped and turned fully towards me. "Nah, they're worse. If you only learn one thing from me Noah, learn this: never look a cop directly in the face. They take it as an insult. Makes them think we're challenging them or something. I don't know. They like to enforce their own version of the hierarchy out here on the streets. We're the lowest of the low, the homeless and unwanted. They can't pick on corpos or any of the larger gangs, so they decide to come after us. And us daring to lock eyes with them, well they get real angry about that."

Fred kept up a running commentary of the neighborhood of Watson as he guided me along. I finished off my two scop dogs as he warned me about what I needed to be careful of. He told me to never get involved with the Tyger Claws because they never fought fair. If I got into a fight with one, they'd see it as me challenging their entire organizaiton and they had enough of a presence here in Watson that I'd be hunted down almost immediately.

He also warned me against going to the north of Watson because that was Maelstrom territory. "If you're lucky, they'd just kill you," said Fred as we crossed the street. He pointed to the fresh cuts on my face and the bruise forming around one of my eyes. "How lucky have you been so far in NC?"

We kept walking and he pointed out which businesses paid protection money to the Claws, which street dealers were trying to get around the TC monopoly on the prime drug corners, and which small-time gangs were trying to gather enough numbers and guns to make a move on unclaimed territory. I hung on every word. I had never really given much thought to the gangs of Night City. They were never enough of a challenge for my V to worry about. I always used them as XP farms in the early game and, once I hit the level cap, mostly just used them as targets for when I tested out any iconic weapons I got. But in the real world, gangs were much more menacing. I had been put on the ground by some chump as soon as I left the safety of the train station. How much worse were the Tyger Claws and Maelstrom? I mean, those were people who committed acts of violence as a way of life.

Before long Fred led me through a side street and the neon glow of a familiar sign brought me up short. We were right in front of Lizzie’s bar. What were we doing here? Was I about to meet Judy? Would Evelyn be stopping by for a drink?

Fred guided me to the right of the bar where a small, roofed alcove was filled with chairs and couches. A bunch of homeless were hanging around, drinking and chatting with each other. It was a party-like atmosphere. When we got closer, shouts of greeting rose from the crowd at Fred’s appearance and his grinning face sent greetings back at everyone. Pats on his back or nods of heads showed how well-respected Fred was. I didn’t warrant anything close to that kind of respect, instead getting flashed inquisitive glances as Fred led me through the throng of people over to a beaten-up leather couch.

“Heya boys. How was the take tonight?” Fred called out to the small group seated on the couch and nearby chairs. Cheers answered him and a guy who seemed half asleep perked up and grinned at Fred beneath long shaggy hair.

“Not bad. Couple fellas scored a broken BD wreath earlier. Deng took it up to Frank and now we’re fully stocked,” he said, jerking his thumb towards a broken mini fridge next to the couch.

“Excellent,” crowed Fred as he shrugged off his bag and sat down on a nearby chair. He motioned for me to take the middle seat of the couch and introduced me as he started rifling through his bag. “This here is Noah. Be nice, he’s new.”

A few people tossed greetings my way, but the guy seated next to me on the couch pushed my shoulder until I turned to face him. “Damn kid. What happened to you?”

“Dennis got to him.” Fred kept grabbing stuff out of his bag as he spoke. “I found him over by Ellison. Dennis hit him right as he got off the train. Noah, this is Mor. Mor, Noah.” Fred finally found what he was looking for, a bottle of some green liquid, and he held it out to Mor who nodded towards it appreciatively.

Mor grabbed his cup and blew out whatever dirt or dust had been in it before passing it over to Fred who had grabbed his own cup out of his bag.

“You know why they call him Mor don’t you?” Fred asked as he started pouring the liquor into the glasses. “Tell me how much you want.”

“More!”

Both men broke into fits of laughter at the joke. I found myself smiling too. Not because the dad joke was funny at all. It painfully wasn’t. But I laughed because this was the first sign of camaraderie I had witnessed since coming to Night City. Two friends were sharing a drink at the end of the day. And then I blanched as my mind turned towards the guy who had attacked me.

“Uh, is Dennis connected to anyone? Tyger Claws or something like that? I don’t…” I paused. I wanted to say I didn’t want to make trouble for Fred. He’d been extremely nice to me so far; the first person in Night City to treat me like an actual human being. If Dennis was going to be hunting me, I didn’t want Fred to get caught in the crossfire.

“Nah kid.” Fred sank back into his chair and sipped his drink. “He’s just some wannabe. He conned a couple kids into following him and they all like to act tough. Don’t worry. We’ll introduce you around and get you sorted. He only ever attacks single targets.”

Mor shook his head in disgust. “Damn gonk is always starting shit. Valentinos should have flatlined him back in the day and saved us all the trouble.”

“Why would the Valentinos have killed him?” I asked.

“He used to live over in Heywood. Pissed off the wrong person and got run out. Moved over to Santo Domingo and it wasn’t too long before he got run out of there too. Now he’s over here in Watson, bothering us.” Mor refilled his cut and sat back to get more comfortable on the couch. “I’m telling you. One of these days he’s gonna pick the wrong target and they’ll have to call the meat wagons to scrape him off the pavement.”

“If he sticks to people walking alone, won’t that be enough to keep him safe?” I didn’t see what could be done about Dennis. When I saw him, he was with a friend and had easily ambushed me. Any target he went after would be completely unprepared to deal with him until it was too late.

“There are people who don’t have backup because they don’t know any better,” Mor pointed at me with an apologetic smile. “And then there are people who walk around without backup because they don’t need it. He’s gonna piss off an edgerunner one of these days. Mark my words, he’s not long for this world.”

Over the next couple hours, I listened as the two men talked. They taught me about the dozen or so smaller gangs that controlled either an apartment building or a few stores in Watson. Those never came up in the game. They also warned me against going into Kabuki without a few people watching my back. Apparently, there were rumors of gangs and cops grabbing up youngsters and disappearing them. And most of all, they both warned me against ever venturing into Charter Hill.

“If a cop finds you in Charter Hill and beats you bloody and arrests you, count yourself lucky. Hell, play the numbers if that ever happens to you because you’d be the luckiest gonk alive.” Mor had drained two glasses of the green liquor Fred brought along and then put his cup away and switched to the Nicolas he’d stocked the mini fridge with. “Mostly it’s corpo security that takes care of Charter Hill. They find you out there, they’ll disappear you.”

But more than the education I was getting from Fred and Mor, it was the atmosphere of the hangout area that I was most enjoying. I had learned that the covered alcove near Lizzie’s had become an unofficial meeting spot for much of the area’s homeless population. They had couches and tables, a roof over their head, and the music leaking out of Lizzie’s provided a background ambiance that was enjoyable. Everyone who visited the alcove was on their best behavior for fear of losing access to the place if they started trouble.

Whenever a client of Lizzie’s tried to get handsy with one of the joytoys, the Mox would rough them up and toss them out of the club. Then, Mor would gather a few people and roll the guy while he was still unconscious. The money from rolling creeps, the broken BD Wreaths the Mox would toss out and which could be sold to vendors in the Kabuki Roundabout, and the fact that the Mox never messed with the homeless in the alcove, made the area one of the best spots in Watson. Mor and Fred explained that the alcove existed more out of benign neglect rather than any concerted effort by the Mox to be helpful.

“They used to be a lot better back in the day,” said Fred. “I remember when the Claws cut up that poor girl. The riots were bad, and the Mox grew out of them. They said they were fighting for all the joytoys, but ‘all’ morphed into ‘some’. And then ‘some’ turned into ‘a few’ which turned into ‘only the ones who are useful to us.’

“Eh, they’re just like everyone else in this city,” said Mor as he handed me a Nicola from the fridge. “You find your people and try and take care of them the best you can.”

Mor tipped his own can of Nicola in my direction, and I smiled. The tension in my shoulders that I hadn’t noticed I’d been carrying since the badlands slowly started to melt away.