Cyberpunk: The Magnet fruit

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"Damn it! Who the hell did this?!"

"I'm gonna kill him! Los, wake the hell up!"

"Boss, the shock to Los was too strong. His system is on the verge of a total shutdown!"

"Damn it! Useless trash!"

David hadn't even reached the dance floor yet when he heard the angry shouts coming from up ahead.

The voices were familiar—recognizable as the same gang of scavengers who had tried to grab chips from the bar earlier in the day.

Now, the music and lights in the hall were turned off, and the entire bar's attention was on the commotion.

It wasn't hard to understand why. Moments ago, the atmosphere in the bar had been electric, with patrons drinking, laughing, and dancing.

Then, out of nowhere, a man was sent flying across the room, knocking over multiple tables and spilling drinks everywhere.

Several innocent bystanders on the dance floor were accidentally caught up in the chaos, and the sight of a flying body had ruined the party mood.

Misfortune like this always felt personal, like bird poop falling from the sky. Nobody could take it lying down.

And this wasn't just any bar.

This was the Afterlife.

In Night City, bar fights were a common occurrence, but the Afterlife wasn't some cheap second-rate dive. A brawl here demanded an explanation.

When David finally made his way to the hall and took in the scene, even he frowned slightly.

The scavenger who'd been thrown—the one with the prosthetic "Looking Eyes"—was in bad shape.

It was hard to tell if the prosthetics were cheaply made or if the earlier impact had been unusually powerful. Either way, the scavenger was lying in a pile of shattered glass.

Five out of his six prosthetic eyes had popped out. The last remaining eye dangled precariously, its wire sparking with each movement.

One couldn't help but wonder if a single jolt would send that final eye flying as well.

The man's prosthetic arms and legs were equally destroyed, scattered around him in pieces.

At first glance, the scene looked more like a gruesome car accident than a bar brawl.

Nearby, Oris, the leader of the scavenger gang, was yelling furiously.

His face was red, and veins bulged on his forehead as he argued with the bar's security staff.

The bouncers were trying to de-escalate the situation, insisting that Oris and his group step outside before discussing anything further.

But Oris wasn't having it.

He shook off one of the guards and shouted, "What the hell are you talking about?! Someone beat up my brother, and now you're telling me to leave?!"

"Do you scavengers think you can just be bullied like this?" he roared. "Let me tell you something—if this doesn't get resolved today, I'm not leaving!"

Oris's loud complaints quickly drew a crowd of onlookers, and the room buzzed with excitement.

In Night City, nothing drew a crowd faster than a potential fight, especially in a place like the Afterlife.

As David stood off to the side, watching the scene unfold, he muttered to himself, "Damn it, this situation is really getting out of hand."

"Hey, David!"

A familiar voice called out, and David turned to see Claire and Jack approaching from the bar.

"What's going on here? Are you hurt?" Claire asked.

David shook his head. "I'm fine, sister."

"Good," Claire said with a nod before glancing at the chaos on the dance floor. She let out a string of curses. "Damn idiots. Someone actually dared to cause trouble in the Afterlife? They must have a death wish!"

Jack, the big, burly man standing beside her, grinned as he watched the scene.

"This is gonna be good," he said, crossing his arms. "Scavengers don't have much skill, but they sure have nasty tempers."

"I'll bet anything those scavenger rats finally ran into someone they shouldn't have messed with," Jack continued. "Whoever beat them up must've taught them a good lesson!"

As he spoke, he reached out and patted David on the arm.

"Hey, David, you see those guys? They're scavengers—the sewer rats of Night City," Jack said with a chuckle. "If any of them ever bother you, just let me know. I'll take care of them for you!"

David hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Thanks, Jack. I'll keep that in mind."

Jack waved it off. "Don't mention it! You make drinks for me, and I'll take care of you. That's what we call mutual benefit!"

He then added with a grin, "Whoever beat up those scavengers, though? No question—they're a real ruthless character!"

Back in the center of the dance floor, Oris was growing more and more agitated.

He slapped the scavenger named Los twice across the face, sparks flying from the man's prosthetic head.

"Wake up, Los! Tell me who the hell did this to you!" Oris shouted.

Slap!

Slap!

The loud smacks echoed through the room, and suddenly, Los's body twitched. His single dangling prosthetic eye sparked, then rotated slightly.

Somehow, Oris's frantic slaps seemed to have rebooted the man's failing system.

"Hey, boss! Los is coming to!" one of the scavengers said excitedly.

Oris's eyes lit up with hope. He grabbed Los by the collar and yelled, "Los! Tell me who beat you up!"

Amidst the crackling of sparks, Los's prosthetic eye spun a few more times, seemingly scanning the room.

Finally, his trembling hand lifted, pointing shakily toward a spot near the edge of the dance floor.

Everyone's gaze followed the direction of his finger.

There, standing together, were three figures: a female bartender, a tall, thin young man, and a burly giant.

For a moment, the entire room fell silent as everyone stared at the trio.

It didn't take long for the crowd to make a judgment.

Their eyes flicked back and forth before unanimously settling on the most intimidating figure among the three: Jack.

Jack's eyes widened in surprise.

"Hey! Don't look at me—I didn't do anything!" he protested, waving his hands.

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