Cyberpunk: The Magnet fruit

Night descended over Night City, signaling the beginning of its true life.

Even in the slums, where the daylight hours passed in quiet desolation, the city came alive under the neon-lit night sky. Garish advertising signs and vibrant streetlights illuminated the streets, transforming the city into a dazzling spectacle of indulgence and excess.

David finished washing up, grabbed his jacket, and stepped outside.

He was heading to the train station, walking the same route he'd taken earlier that day. When he passed through the garbage-strewn alley, he noticed that the drunkards and homeless people who usually lingered there were nowhere to be seen. They had likely wandered off to lose themselves in the city's nightlife once again.

The alley was long, dark, and eerily quiet, save for the occasional rustle of rats scurrying through the trash. It was a stark reminder of the dire conditions in this part of Watson District.

David shook his head in frustration. "I need to earn more money and get out of this place," he muttered.

An Unexpected Encounter

As David was walking, a voice called out from the shadows of the alley.

"Hey, kid in the black coat! Yeah, you!"

David turned his head slightly but kept walking. Emerging from the darkness, two men with mohawk hairstyles and cheap cyberware implants approached him. Their grins were menacing, their intentions clear.

"Lend us some cash, boy," one of them sneered. "We're short on cash for Mewtwo today. Hand over whatever you've got, and we'll let you leave in one piece."

The men revealed spring-loaded blades from their cybernetic arms, twirling the weapons in a threatening display. The glint of the blades caught the alley's neon light, adding an edge to their intimidation.

Street thugs like these were common in Night City. At night, alleys became traps, and predators like these men thrived.

In the past, David might have been afraid. But now? He had no patience for this nonsense.

"Get out of my way," he said coldly, without breaking stride.

The dismissive response infuriated the two thugs.

"F**k you, brat! You think you can just walk away?" one of them shouted.

The pair lunged toward David, spring blades poised to strike.

The Power of Magnetism

Before they could close the distance, David stopped and turned to face them. In an instant, the blades in their hands froze mid-air.

"What the hell?" one of the thugs exclaimed, struggling to move the weapon.

"Witchcraft! This guy's using some f*****g witchcraft!" the other yelled in panic.

David's expression remained cold and unyielding. "Enough of this noise," he muttered.

With a faint hum, arcs of electricity crackled in the air. A blinding flash lit up the alley for a moment, followed by the sound of bodies hitting the ground.

The two thugs lay unconscious, foam bubbling at their mouths. One of them had even wet his pants in fear.

David didn't spare them a second glance. Adjusting his coat, he muttered to himself, "Great, now I'm running late. I need to move out of this dump as soon as I can."

Arriving at Afterlife

After a few stops on the train, David arrived at his destination: Little Chinatown's iconic Afterlife Bar.

The bar, located in the heart of Watson District, was a symbol of Night City's edge-running culture. It wasn't just a place to drink—it was a hub for mercenaries, fixers, and outlaws to network and do business.

What set the Afterlife apart was its owner: Rogue, a legend in her own right. Once a top-tier mercenary, Rogue had transitioned into the role of a fixer and bar owner. Her influence was unparalleled, and almost every major deal in Night City required her blessing.

Under Rogue's management, the Afterlife Bar had become a hotspot for information and contracts. It was a space where the city's social hierarchy dissolved—anyone could find a seat, whether they were meeting a client, negotiating a job, or simply looking for a good time.

Tonight, the bar was more alive than ever. A special party was being held, drawing in an even larger crowd than usual.

David approached the bar's entrance, taking in the sight of the bustling crowd. Mercenaries, gang members, street samurai, and more mingled and drank, their laughter and chatter blending into a cacophony of Night City's nightlife.

The Afterlife Bar was more than just a bar—it was the pulse of Night City's underworld. And for David, the night was just beginning.

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