Cyberpunk: 2075

"Good morning, Night City!"

Carl slowly opened his eyes to the familiar voice of NCBN's morning anchor, Stanley. His gaze swept around the room, finding Oliver and Jackie sprawled out on the couch, limbs tangled in awkward angles, surrounded by empty beer bottles. Meanwhile, he was the only one who had made it to the bed.

"Did they leave the TV on all night?"

Letting out a yawn, Carl rubbed his eyes.

He hadn't drunk any alcohol the night before, but after such a long day, exhaustion caught up to him. While Oliver and Jackie were going shot for shot, Carl had thought about resting for just a few minutes before getting up to join the fun—but he ended up knocking out completely.

Guess I was more tired than I thought.

Yawning again, Carl left them alone, letting them sleep like the dead weight they were. He made his way to Oliver's identical bathroom, splashed some cold water on his face, and halfheartedly brushed his teeth with his finger and a bit of water—just enough to feel somewhat awake.

The tap water in Night City always had a weird taste. It was barely safe to wash with, let alone drink. If you wanted real purified water, you had to buy it separately—and it cost more than a bottle of alcohol.

Still, you had to buy it.

Carl walked over to the room's vending machine, spending 20 eddies—the price of a synthetic ribeye steak—on a bottle of Purified Water™.

He took a few sips, swished some around to get rid of last night's stale aftertaste, spat it into the trash can, and then chugged the rest.

Now I feel human again.

Pulling out his phone, Carl checked his messages.

No new job offers.

Even Faraday, the fixer who had thrown him that shitty test gig, was silent.

"Man, this is boring."

Carl glanced at the two sleeping drunks, debating whether or not to dump a bottle of water on their faces to wake them up. Tempting, but nah.

Instead, he left a message saying he'd grab them breakfast and decided to head out.

Of course, he grabbed his Kenshin pistol before stepping outside.

Never go anywhere unarmed in Night City.

Taking the elevator down to the first floor, Carl stepped out and looked toward the same row of food stalls he'd first seen on his first day in 2075.

Not much had changed.

The Chinese food stand had been replaced with Japanese cuisine. The owner had changed, too—but the stall remained the same, and so did the crowd of early morning diners.

Like replacing a cog in a machine.

Just swap out the broken parts, and the system keeps running.

The only question was, when would the whole machine finally collapse?

Carl approached the stall, ordering two large sushi platters to-go and a bowl of ramen—no meat—for himself.

All he wanted was to eat in peace.

He took a seat at the same greasy, broken table as before—though now it carried a faint scent of blood, adding a new layer of grime to its history.

Just let me eat in peace today.

But, as if the universe had other plans, before the stall owner could even start cooking, the sharp crack of gunfire echoed through the streets.

This time, however, the stall owner had learned his lesson.

At the first sound of gunshots, he ditched his station, diving under the counter for cover without hesitation.

Well...

Here we go again.

Carl gripped his Kenshin pistol and turned his gaze toward the source of the gunfire.

Who the hell dares to interrupt my breakfast?

The last group that had tried—the Maelstrom gangers—were probably buried under some random building foundation by now.

As he looked over, a stray bullet came flying toward him—only to be sliced clean in half by a flick of his monomolecular wire.

He had watched enough Samurai braindances to know how to cut bullets mid-air. Compared to those guys swinging katanas around to deflect rounds, Carl found it a lot easier to let his Militech Parallel processor handle the calculations while he simply moved his fingers.

Of course, it only worked with stray bullets.

His current setup wasn't anywhere near what he needed to face down a full-auto rifle or machine gun.

Better keep this trick for showboating.

Carl quickly scanned the two groups shooting at each other. No gang emblems.

Which meant…

"Just a bunch of street punks who couldn't even make it into a gang?"

Even gangs in Night City had entry requirements.

These losers?

Even the Scavs would find them too trashy to recruit.

No money in killing them. Hell, it'd just be a waste of ammo.

"This goddamn City of Light sure is shining bright today."

Carl had zero interest in wasting his time putting down some low-life nobodies—especially when, from the corner of his eye, he spotted NCPD officers arriving on the scene.

NCPD might suck at dealing with real gangs, but when it came to beating the hell out of weaklings, they were undefeated champions.

"NCPD! DROP YOUR WEAPONS!"

With great enthusiasm, the overjoyed officers rushed in like a pack of starving wolves, finally finding someone they could actually overpower.

Sure, most cops carried Lexington pistols—just like these wannabe gangsters—but there was a difference.

The punks' guns were cheap junk, probably jammed every other shot.

Meanwhile, the NCPD's Lexingtons were personally modified, well-maintained, and had that crisp, satisfying pop when fired.

To Carl, the sound of gunfire was oddly reminiscent of a popcorn machine going off on a street corner.

Speaking of which…

"Been a while since I had popcorn. Should've bought some for movie night yesterday."

Within a few minutes, the entire fight was over.

The wannabe gangsters were either on the ground twitching or being dragged off in cuffs.

By the time the stall owner placed a steaming bowl of ramen in front of Carl, the whole situation was resolved.

Carl turned back to look at the completely unfazed customers and vendors, who had already resumed business as usual.

Then he turned again toward the crime scene, barely a hundred meters away.

He sat there in silence for a moment.

Then, without a second thought, he picked up his chopsticks and dug in.

Food comes first.

"Thanks to the brave officers of NCPD, another gang-related incident has been successfully neutralized! Let us give our highest respects to these courageous men and women, who keep Night City safe for all its citizens!"

Carl paused mid-bite, looking up at the live broadcast being conducted by an NCPD spokesperson.

His stomach suddenly felt off.

Maybe greasy ramen wasn't the best choice for breakfast.

Or maybe it was just the bullshit on TV.

Rubbing his stomach, Carl finished his meal, grabbed the two sushi platters, and prepared to head back.

But then, just past the police cordon, he noticed someone approaching.

A man, head drooping, stumbling forward, movements erratic—something off about the way he walked.

A bad feeling crept into Carl's gut.

Then, yesterday's news report flashed through his mind.

"The cyberpsycho escaped before MaxTac could arrive."

…Shit.