Friday Night Firefight: A Cyberpunk Isekai

"Get tighter on him Joe. You gotta close the lanes down. They're killing us in the paint choom."

I leaned my back against the wall and popped another chip in my mouth as I watched the game. Some residents from Megabuilding 10 had formed a pick-up basketball team and were holding down the court over by Lizzie's. They had put word out earlier in the day, saying they'd best all challengers, and a small crowd had formed for the free entertainment. That was something I long learned to cherish in Night City.

One of the things I most wanted to do in the city was watch all the braindances that I couldn't watch in the game. That wasn't in the cards though as all my money went towards survival. After food and drink and clothes and everything else, I never had enough eddies left over to count as disposable income. During my time in the city, I had been bombarded with ads about all the new braindances being released weekly.

Badlands Raid 2.0, Crime and Punishment and Zombies, Conqueror 9000. I wanted to watch all those and more. There were BDs of police chases, rock shows, and odd slice-of-life BDs where you were a farmer or a pastor or a handy man in a megabuilding. I had neither a BD wreath nor the money to rent any of the BDs I heard about, instead relying on the free entertainment of the city to pass my time. That was probably true for most everyone who was crowded around the half-court near Lizzie’s.

That was also my cover for being at the game that day. In listening to Deng’s stories about his time with Militech, as well as being bombarded with sermons that Fred and Mor preached about how best to protect myself, I learned that one of the most important rules of safety was recon.

About to ambush a SovOil convoy sending supplies to South American paramilitaries? How many cars and guards and guns are you expecting? What’s the threat level? What route are they taking and where can you set up your shooters? Going to a part of Watson you don’t normally frequent? Who are the major players? Who controls the territory? Do any of the gangs there target the homeless or will they leave you alone as long as you don’t interfere in their business?

Recon was exceedingly important, and it was why I kept one eye on the drug dealers while still watching the game and cheering. It was why I was noting how the dealers interacted with each other and the clients, where the money was kept, who was charged with guarding the stash, and when they did their re-up.

After an hour of hanging around the court I had a basic understanding of the crew. They were relatively inexperienced, and I couldn’t tell if they were ballsy or just plain stupid. This was Tyger Claw territory. Everyone knew that. So why were these fools openly selling drugs here and not cutting in the Claws? Deng would have been embarrassed by how sloppy the dealers took their security.

The court was placed between an alleyway that led up to Lizzie’s and a set of stairs that led out to an apartment block. The two dealers on the court were positioned so they had a view of both ends of the alley; one watching the ramp that led past the court towards Lizzie’s, and the other watching the end that fed out to a street about a block away. It was the third dealer, the one stationed at the top of the stairs, who was their weak link.

He was supposed to be extra muscle for the dealers on the court as well as make sure that there was no one sneaking up on them from the apartment block behind the court. He was also supposed to guard the stash. If the NCPD came around, he’d grab the stash and make a run for it. This would ensure the crew didn’t lose all their drugs if the badges decided to do their jobs. But with the basketball game going on, he had allowed his attention to drift and was more engrossed with what was happening on the court than watching for potential threats.

With a plan in place, I crumpled my bag of chips in a ball and tossed it away before heading down the long alley that would let me out several streets away. It would be a five- or ten-minute walk around the block and then I’d come up behind the dealer on the stairs. Every step I took increased the beat of my heart as I repeated the plan in my head.

This was the first gig I’d be pulling myself, and I wanted it to go smoothly. Deng and his crew had held my hand during the break-in at the megabuilding and you couldn’t really call scrounging for trash and selling it to vendors in the Roundabout a gig. So, this was really my first major gig, and the beat of my heart kept me informed of that fact.

I slowed my steps and took deep breaths, trying to will my body to remain calm as I circled the block and came up behind the dealer. He was facing towards the street, his eyes scanning the area for threats, and I slowed my walk. Don’t worry about me. I’m just some random homeless guy strolling through the neighborhood. I don’t pose any threat whatsoever. Just forget about me as I keep walking.

I scanned the ground and picked up a few scattered cigarette butts. I tossed them in a small paper container I always kept in my left back pocket and kept scanning the ground. During our walks through the city, I noticed that Fred was often grabbing cigarettes off the ground so he could strip them of the tobacco that hadn’t been burned off. He’d get four or five of the tossed cigarettes, strip out the tobacco, and reroll them. I saw him occasionally pass out his recycled cigarettes to people hanging near Lizzie’s and came to like the idea. It was a nice little gift to give people and gave me a plausible explanation for when I needed to lounge around an area without drawing too much attention to myself.

It took a few minutes but eventually the dealer lost interest in the apartment block, and he turned his focus back towards the game. I slowly crept forward. My gun was in my waist band, and I could feel its weight there. It was a comfort that I clung to with what was about to happen. I didn’t need the gun for this. It would be too loud. But it was nice knowing it was there and could help me if I needed it. I crept forward and slid my second weapon out of my back pocket.

A few days after Fred took me in, he had suggested that I needed to find some way to defend myself. We found a thin piece of metal in the trash and filed down one edge until it was sharp and jagged. The homemade shiv wasn’t enough of a weapon to pose much of a threat to anyone truly dangerous, but it gave me some comfort while walking the streets of Night City and would work perfectly for what I had in mind. When I was planning the gig, I realized that the shiv would let me do silent takedowns. I reached the dealer, my heart beating a million beats a minute, and I reached out with my shiv.

And then I blanked.

How do I do this? My mind raced through thousands of scenarios. I tried to recall every movie, tv show, video game, and youtube video I had ever seen or played. Video games made stealth seem so easy. Sneak up behind someone and press F or right click the mouse. Snake would do his CQC animation and muffle a guard’s mouth when he took him down. V would snap the neck. Altair would just hidden-blade the dude in the chest and walk away while the guard slowly came to the realization he was already dead.

I crouched near the dealer who was completely absorbed in the game and raced through my thoughts for any ideas. Should I slit his throat? What if I didn’t cut deep enough? He could shout out and then I’d be screwed. Should I reach around him and try and slap a hand over his mouth? Take him down with CQC? I don’t even know what CQC stands for which meant I definitely didn’t know how to do it. Plus, my body was that of a 19-year-old homeless kid who hadn’t eaten a full meal for a while and had lost a bunch of weight and muscle mass. I wasn’t all that strong in my previous life. There was no telling how much of that limited strength had atrophied during all my time in Night City.

It felt like hours since I had crept up behind the dealer and the entire time I held my shiv out, poised to flash out and end his life. He’d turn around any second now and I had no clue what I’d do. I had never killed before. Outside of being jumped by the Wraiths and Dennis and a bully in the 5th grade, I had never even been in a fight before. My mouth was dry, my hands shook, and my mind was blanking with ideas on what I should do.

I quietly slipped the shiv back in my pocket, kept my head down, and passed the dealer as I walked down the stairs to the basketball court. Maybe I’d ask Deng to teach me what I should do in that position. I should probably go to him for advice and have him teach me a little bit before I took on more dangerous gigs.

I kept my head down and walked along the outside of the court before slipping into the alley, walking away from Lizzie’s. Shame crept into my cheeks and my mind was deep in thought as I walked.

I was so focused on my failure that I didn’t notice as someone approached me as I left the basketball court. I did, however, feel the two punches that caught me in the face, making my eyes water and my head snap bag. Another punch took me in the stomach, and I was on the ground wheezing, trying to pump breath into my lungs.

“I remember you. Little bennie I klepped all those eddies from awhile back.” I looked up and saw Dennis standing over me with a predatory look on his face. He bent to rifle through my pockets and came up with the few eddies I still had. Again? I could see him wheel back to kick me and I reached for the Unity at my waist.

But it wasn't there. Had I dropped it? Where the hell was my gun?

Dennis’ foot connected with my head and I rolled over, my nose was broken and I was bleeding from a split lip. I could feel him coming closer, probably to stomp on me while I was down. I reached into my back pocket and grabbed my shiv. When he got closer, I swung out wildly. Mor had taught me a little bit about how to defend myself with the shiv, but I hadn’t practiced much and my mind was panicking. My actions were jerky and nowhere near what I thought I was capable of, but all I needed to do was keep a distance between Dennis and myself. I swiped with the shiv and connected with something, the jerk of resistance threatening to rip the shiv from my hand.

When I looked up, I noticed that Dennis had reeled back and was clutching a hand to his forearm, trying to stem a spurt of blood that was leaking out. This was my chance. I could have rushed him and tried to drive my shiv into his neck. Maybe that would end Dennis’ attacks on me for good. But the fear screamed at me to leave as fast as I could. I jumped up and ran but felt a weight pulling at my leg, trying to drag me down. I kicked out and heard something clatter on the street, but I kept racing down the alley.

I heard a soft pop pop before I reached the end of the alley and I sprinted off to the right. There was a stitch in my side as I hadn’t run a whole lot over the past few weeks, but I ignored it and kept racing away from the court and Dennis as fast as I could go. I needed to get to safety, and I knew that Patrick Street was my best bet. That’s where Fred had his camp, and I figured it was the safest place around.

When I got to the small section of Patrick Street that Fred had claimed I laid down and tried to run through what exactly had happened. I couldn’t get to my Unity during the fight. I guess Deng’s warnings that my gun wouldn’t be where I needed it without a holster were prescient because my gun was nowhere to be found, even after I patted myself down. A memory of the weight I felt while running from Dennis popped in my mind, and I realized my gun must have slipped down one of the legs of my pants when I fell. Shit. I remembered the soft pops I heard while running away. That was probably Dennis shooting at me with my own gun. Why weren’t the gunshots louder? Shooting the Unity at the range, I remembered the sounds being deafening.

My shirt was once again stained with my own blood. It was the second shirt that had been ruined with my blood after Dennis cold cocked me. That was another thing I owed him now. Plus, the cold realization that I wouldn’t be able to hang around near Lizzie’s started settling on me. I had cut Dennis with a shiv. He wouldn’t let that go. He’d lock down the area and keep me from the only place in Night City where I could go to unwind and relax.

I eventually staunched the nosebleed Dennis had given me and checked myself in a small mirror Fred had in his camp. Other than a sore face where Dennis had hit me, I had probably got off light. The punch to the stomach took my breath away but it didn’t do any lasting damage. His kick had once again made me see stars, but I had already shrugged off the worst of it by the time I got to Fred’s place.

Heavy and stilted footsteps sounded near me and slowly grew louder and closer. I jerked my head in that direction, my hand moving to the shiv I had stuffed back in my back pocket, but then calmed as I noticed Fred and Deng rounding the corner. But when I saw Fred’s swollen face and his arm curled around his stomach, my heart leapt. Fred had been beated even worse than I was. Was it Dennis? Did he come looking for me only to find Fred instead? Did I cause this?

Deng laid Fred down on his mattress and glanced over towards me, noticing the blood that stained my face and shirt. “Damn kid, you too? What happened?”

“Dennis,” I answered. Fred hadn’t greeted me as he was carried in, instead crumpling down onto his mattress and closing his eyes. I looked at Deng and nodded my head towards Fred in a question.

“Officer Kirk,” answered Deng. And I could hear the malice in Deng’s voice. “I’m gonna head over to a medtech I know, see if she’s got anything that can help him with the pain.”

I nodded, the helplessness I felt drowning out the pain I was left with after my latest beating from Dennis. He’d once again stripped me of my money, and I had even lost my gun in the fight. If I hadn’t I could have pawned it to help cover Fred’s medical costs. I heard Fred’s labored breathing as he slipped off to sleep and tears started forming in my eyes. I couldn’t tell if it was because I had once again been victimized by Dennis, seeing Fred in a broken state, or the frustration at not being able to do anything to change either situation.

Fred had been there for me at my lowest point. He’d been a constant presence for me in Night City and helped teach me how to survive on the streets. And how did I repay him for his kindness? The noodle restaurant I took both him and Mor to felt like such a hollow gesture now. I couldn’t buy him medicine, couldn’t ensure his safety, couldn’t even pick up his spirits because he’d probably take one look at me and see me all beat to hell alongside him. All I could do was sit by his side, listen to his groans of pain, and silently watch him suffer.

There were always going to be people like Dennis and Officer Kirk in Night City; people who’d prey on others simply to make themselves feel powerful. Fred and Mor had tried to drive that fact about the city into my head countless times. They told me that the best we could hope for was to be seen as the least appealing target.

As Fred and I sat together, both nursing our wounds in his tiny camp, I felt all the pain and agony of my life in Night City coalesce. All the experiences of the past few weeks played back in my head; being hunted by the Wraiths, Biotechnica mercs looking at me as a worthless entity in the camp, Dennis beating me twice, all the people I passed on the streets looking at me as useless and undeserving of their time. I sat by Fred, watching as he tried to fall asleep, and stewed in the memories.