Chapter 7: Emergence

This wasn't my first time doing this, but needless to say, it certainly was one of the most nerve-racking.

To be fair, I never was the most publicly-inclined person in the world, always doing better as a recluse than anything else, which is why I became a programmer in my old world. But needs must, I suppose. Still, as I looked in the mirror, I liked what I saw. My hair was swept back, but not glistening, and looked fairly natural. I had a few grey hairs scattered around my temples, which were relatively new occurrences, but I felt they added to my charm rather than diminishing them. Whilst my face wasn't the prettiest, my nose large and prominent in my face, it wasn't an eyesore, and my skin was in relatively good nick despite my lifestyle. What few imperfections there were, were covered up by the tender mercies of the make-up girl. Like I had requested, her touch was relatively light, with only small improvements to my visage.

I always was a fan of Oliver Cromwell, in spite of his brutality. Warts and all he may have been, but honesty was part of his charm and in the world where everyone was faking it, the fact that I wasn't served massively in my favour.

Happy with her work, I shot her a roguish wink and was rewarded with a slight dusting of colour appearing on her cheeks. Struggling out of the makeup chair, I made my way to the edge of the set, watching Ziggy work his magic with the crowd, still obscured from the cameras thanks to the stage curtains lining the edge of the set. As always, he was stuffed to the brim with his characteristic formula of over-the-top showmanship and sarcasm, masked under his, at least to me, ludicrous fashion sense. I was, and always had been, a traditional, muted colours, suit and tie sort of person, and so naturally, I stuck out like sore thumb in this kind of environment. In many ways, he was my polar opposite, more flash than substance. His particular brand of 'gotcha' journalism was entertaining, to say the least, but still rather ineffectual, and no matter who he humiliated over his long career thus far, nothing seemed to change.

I was now questioning my decision to make this my first appearance following the announcement of my survival, the previous interview with Sara Krakosky having proven to be particularly brutal, the gotcha journalism in full force. The woman had left the view of the cameras with her head hung low. Still, she was full of shit, and I, in spite of having faked my entire backstory, wasn't. The benefits of my presence were tangible, the numbers on my side no matter how you looked at it. Plus, Ziggy's 'man of the people' branding made him less likely to attack me in the same way as her, though I knew to still expect a grilling.

Still, as my turn came up, I left my train of though behind and waited for my cue, "And tonight, ladies and gentlemen, we have a very special guest. He's a man who wants to be your Mayor, and given the news over the past few days, a man who needs no introduction! Please, put your hands together and make some noise for the next Mayor of Night City!"

The applause that followed was uproarious, and as the music kicked in, the cameras flew to my side of the set and waited for my eventual emergence. Ziggy had a wide, and inevitably fake, smile plastered across his face, every bit the charming host, as if he weren't intending to metaphorically grill me alive the moment I sat down. In spite of a jump in my pulse, and sudden dryness in my mouth as the bottom of my gut seemed to sink in dread, I took the first awkward step forwards.

Now in the vision of the cameras and the studio audience, I have no doubt that my movements appear jittery and almost mechanical in nature, not at all helped by a slight limp as my cane clicked on the ground with every step. I took a deep breath as I walked forwards, forcefully calming myself as much as possible, injecting some much-needed grace into my movements. I held my hand out as I approached Ziggy, firmly grasping his own, which were cold to the touch due to his own implants, and pulled him in closer to pat him on the back.

The handshake now over, Ziggy now led me to the centre of the set, directing me to sit in the guest chair as he walked around his desk to sit in his own. In the brief interval before the music died down and the interview began, I took the time to examine the crowd. It seemed full of those whom may be considered average within Night City, with bright clothing, dirty faces and brief flashes of chrome littered across their bodies.

These were my people. The honestly poor, looking for any way to not be. Still, in spite of their expectant and in some cases even excited faces, I knew better than to approach them. My security team, as good as they were, were still human, and could still make mistakes. There was no doubt in my mind that in the crowd were some mercs or gangoons or even corpo agents who had managed to slip through the cracks.

Still, I couldn't entertain that train of thought for long, as Ziggy sat in his chair, the music faded out, as did the applause. Whilst he opened his mouth to speak, I decided to take the initiative instead, "Hi Ziggy, how've you been?"

"How have I been? Why, I've been great! So, how's my favourite dead man?"

I released a breathy chuckle, "Not so dead, I'm afraid."

"Does it hurt?."

I waved my arm dismissively, "Only when I breathe, Ziggy. So, nothing to worry about."

He winked, "Of course, and I imagine the meds must make the whole thing a breeze, huh?"

I made sure to look amused and horrified at the same time, "They would, but I'm not on any right now. I'm a keen believed in keeping a clean head, Ziggy, and I won't let something as trivial as a few broken bones keep me down for very long."

Ziggy didn't even bother looking abashed at the admonition, effortlessly switching the subject like the consummate professional he was, "Speaking of broken bones, let's talk about your assassination. As you might have been able to tell, it's been the topic of conversation for the past few weeks, and as every topic of conversation, there have been quite a few rumours flying around. Care to shed any light on that?"

I made sure to appear concerned, "May I ask about what, precisely? From what I can tell, the news coverage appears to be pretty comprehensive about the events of the day. Hell, I'm pretty sure the footage of my flailing body has been used by every news station and network on the planet. What more could you want to know?"

He smiled at the question, "Why fake your death?"

I waved my arm dismissively, "Oh, that was nothing. You see, the attack left me in a coma, and my security team, unsure of how to proceed without my leadership, opted for the option that maximised my chances of survival. You don't try and kill a dead man, now do you?"

"So, who do you think was behind it?"

"Oh hell, far be it for me to speculate. It could be you for all I know!" The crowd chuckled with me at my little joke, "In all seriousness, I have nothing but a hunch."

"And what's your hunch?"

I paused for a moment, pondering my answer, eventually coming to the conclusion that a directionally vague answer would position me best, "Well, it depends."

"On what?"

"On who has the most to lose if I win this race, and the most to gain if I were to drop out."

Ziggy's eyebrows began to ascend into the heavens, "Are you accusing your own opponents of attempted murder? That's a very serious allegation to make."

I raised my palms in a placating manner, "No, I'm not accusing anybody. Yes, Mr Holt and Mr Peralez are the most obvious candidates, but that doesn't make them any more suspect than you. The real question is this: who stands to gain the most from keeping me out of office? That could be anyone from a corporation looking to see a corruptible candidate in office so that they can have laws benefitting them passed, to a gang hoping to prevent a law-and-order candidate, to a corrupt member of the NCPD hoping to prevent one of the more outspoken critics of his organisation from coming to power and damaging his graft. All of that, however, is irrelevant." I turned my head to look at the camera, "What really matters is that I am alive, I am unafraid, and I will never stop fighting for what I believe in, for the people of this city, no matter who takes a shot at me."

Utter horseshit, of course. Still, I was suitably convincing, and there was a round of cheering that stretched on for what seemed like minutes. Once it had died down, Ziggy continued, "The NCPD?"

I nodded, "Yes."

He looked genuinely shocked, though I was sure that it was merely an act, "You think that the NCPD could be involved?"

"Before I answer your question, Ziggy, let me first clarify something. There are plenty of honest, hardworking and brave officers in the NCPD who simply want to do the right thing. All that being said, anything is possible, and all possibilities ought to be considered. As we all doubtlessly know, the honest officers are overshadowed by an equally large number of corrupt, greedy and often abusive officers who seem to have no regard for the people who they serve nor the laws they enforce. In my experience, police shakedowns are depressingly common and police performance when it comes to genuine law enforcement leaves much to be desired."

Ziggy seemed to understand what I was trying to do, and shifted focus, "So, how would you fix it?"

I smiled, "I'm glad you asked. First of all, were I to be Mayor, I can promise you a complete purge of the NCPD leadership. The majority of them are up to their eyeballs in corruption anyway, like our esteemed Commissioner, Jerry Fawlter. Furthermore, I would mandate the formation of an internal affairs bureau within the NCPD, to monitor and crack down on low-level corruption, so that any officers who in any way obstruct the carriage of justice will face investigation and consequences. Furthermore, I would support the introduction of mandatory bodycams for all NCPD patrol officers, such that any abuses of power on their behalf can be documented and the officers in question can be punished for them. It'll be a slow process, but I believe that we can clean up the NCPD and make it a better, more reliable and more trustworthy police force."

Ziggy looked down at his desk, "Your opponent, Weldon Holt, claims that any such measures would be, and I quote, 'dangerous and seriously impair the ability of the NCPD to perform its basic functions and provide security to the citizens of Night City.' He claims to have reduced crime across the city."

I laughed, "Look outside, Ziggy, and you'll see that's just not true. Hell, it seems like there's a bullet ridden corpse around every corner in Watson and Pacifica, and the Badlands are called the Badlands for a reason. If anything, crime has gone up, not down, especially in the regions that remain solely dependent on the NCPD for law-enforcement, to say nothing of the regions where the NCPD has effectively ceded its jurisdiction to gangs." I adopted a more serious tone now, "And look, Holt's concern about these reforms impacting the NCPD's ability to perform are not entirely unfounded. To counter the recent tidal wave of corporate and gang warfare happening on our streets, as well as the increasing occurrence of cyberpsychosis fueled violence, we need an effective and powerful police force to keep us safe. To that effect, I would also propose to renationalise the NCPD and spend as much money as necessary to purchase the NCPD all the equipment it needs to be able to effectively patrol the streets, replacing the badly out-of-date equipment that many of the officers are currently stuck with, and making the NCPD a force to be reckoned with. However, the NCPD in it's current form has proven completely insufficient, and the time for reform has finally arrived."

It took almost a minute for the applause to die down, "Well, I'm glad to see we're in safe hands. However, your other opponent, Jefferson Peralez, has promised to eliminate corporate representation within the City Council. How can you promise to crack down on corporate violence if you're not willing to do the same? Wouldn't the City Council simply vote down any measure you put forwards?"

I gave a solemn nod, "In an ideal world, I would agree with Mr Peralez, however, you and I both know it's simply not possible to do that. How can the city government enforce it's will upon corporations like Arasaka and Militech, who have standing armies and nuclear arsenals? Pushing them out by force simply isn't possible, and eliminating their influence in the city council will simply lead to them seizing power in other, potentially more violent ways. No, better, I think, to keep the corporations inside the system, and get them to play along. As my company has proved, there is money to be made in doing good, and we can use that fact. Instead of forcing them out of the system, I propose instead to alter the system, to make them work for us rather than against us for a change."

It was a vague and non-committal response, but the crowd simply went wild. When the cheering died down, Ziggy wound the interview to a close, the music kicking in once again as his show came to an end. As I left the studio, I reviewed my performance.

Overall, the feeling was that I had performed well. Though we had become somewhat side-tracked by the topic of my death, I had retained a relatively strong policy focus throughout, pushing the issues. My demeanour had been adequately charming, and pulling out my phone to check the live reaction to the interview revealed a string of posts praising my poise and composure in spite of my injuries. With the added momentum gained from diverting the news cycle with the announcement of my revival, I was once again swiftly climbing in the polls, nipping at Weldon Holt's heels and sapping Peralez's core base of voters.

Of course, winning the election altogether would be an entirely different matter, but for now I was content to be a close third. I had a plan to deal with Peralez, and once he was out of the picture, battling it out with Holt would be a far easier prospect. As I hobbled through the corridor of the building, flanked on all sides by my bodyguards, my mind was racing, filled with endless possibilities. Clambering into the backseat of my car, one thought emerged victorious above all the rest.

It was good to be alive.

And so the MC is finally back in the game! How will people react to his revival?
Feel free to comment and let me know what you think.
Hope you guys are enjoying the story thus far!