Chapter 2

Honestly, the Slaught-O-Matic isn't the worst thing ever, but it's pretty goddamn close. It was definitely a prime example of the phrase 'you get what you pay for.' Regardless, it could still kill, though it might take the whole clip to kill someone with a lot of chrome or armor. Reinforced skin and bones could be a bitch to deal with. I'll have to be careful which NCPS Scanner job I actually take. I grip the plastic tab located at the shell ejection port and rip it out to make the gun live. Piece of shit doesn't even have a real safety.

With the gun prepped for immediate use, if necessary, I stuff it into my jacket pocket. The moment I do it vanishes into nothingness prompting me to immediately ask, "What the fuck?!"

I dig in my pocket, pat my body down, and spin in circles looking on the ground searching for the lost gun. Where the fuck did it go?! I don't exactly have a lot of eddies to waste on another one! If shit doesn't work out tomorrow I'll be even more broke! I can't find the gun anywhere and just as I'm about to really get pissed off I remember that I'm supposed to have an inventory now.

"Inventory."

The screen showing me, my clothing, and my weapon slots appears. There's only one thing that's different from last time. On the top weapon slow there is the word 'New' visible. When I mentally select the box, it opens another screen were I can see the Slaught-O-Matic sitting in a previously empty box. When I select it, the screen switches back to the previous screen with the Slaught-O-Matic now in the first of three slots.

Nothing seems to have changed but I close the inventory screen and check my pockets once more. There's still no gun in them but the moment I think of the weapon, it appears with my hand already gripping it. My eyes widen in surprise as I look at the cheap piece of pink plastic, "The fuck?"

Curious, I go to 'holster' the gun in my pocket and it vanishes once again. I think about the weapon once again and it's returned to my hand with my finger near the trigger, "Oh, shit, that's going to come in handy."

Seriously, that's some reality-breaking shit right there. I could walk into a place looking completely unarmed, pull a gun out of nowhere, shoot someone, and hide the weapon. No one would ever be able to prove a damned thing. I could so easily sneak weapons into high-security areas. I've definitely got to keep this a secret. No way in hell I'd be allowed to live if someone found out. I'd either be murdered if I was lucky, or kidnapped by some corp and dissected to figure out how I did it.

Shit, I need to not think of that right now.

Instead, I try to think of which area I should hit while I board the metro and settle in for the ride toward my home area. Watson was definitely out. A Slaught-O-Matic wouldn't do shit against a chromed-out Maelstrom ganger. Heywood was out as well, don't shit where you sleep and all that. That left Westbrook with the Tyger Claws and Santo Domingo with the 6th Street. No way in hell was I going to Pacifica and picking a fight with the Voodoo Boys or Animals. Same with heading to the city center where the cylons (corporate security officers) were stationed. I just got a second chance and I wasn't throwing it away like that.

After thinking about it, I've decided I'll head to Westbrook tomorrow and do some scanner hustles there. The Tyger Claws shouldn't have too many people with tons of chrome. I'm pretty sure they were more into hacking and shit. I chose them over 6th Street because of the difference I could expect in their gear. 6th Street ran with Militech Military gear and body armor. Sure, ripping some of that off of them would be a great way to gear myself up. It'd also be a great way to die horribly as my shitty-ass pistol fails to punch through their combat gear, military-grade prosthetics, and whatever the fuck else they have. Tyger Claws, on the other hand, run around in silk shirts and leather jackets. Easy choice.

When the tram comes to a stop in my neighborhood, I disembark and walk toward my tiny one-room apartment. When I say one room, I mean just one room. There's no separation for the different areas like the kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom. It's all just a single room and has barely serviceable furniture. Hell, the most expensive thing I own is my personal computer and even it is a piece of shit.

As I step through the front door of the building to head for the elevator, a voice I hate calls out loudly, "Savage! Where the hell is my rent pendejo?"

I held back a groan and resisted the urge to pull my brand new Slaught-O-Matic and shoot the speaker in his fat face. I'm not being facetious here, as I'm reminded when I turn to face the man yelling at me. He's a middle-aged man of Hispanic decent, like many in the area, with a huge bald spot, six chins, bigger tits than any joytoy I've ever seen that hang over his protruding gut, and a Hitler-style mustache to top it all off. A truly unpleasant being that is, unfortunately, my landlord.

"It's not due for three more days."

He narrows his beady black eyes at me and makes a deliberate show of looking up and down my blood-soaked front. It's mostly dry by now and it's just a testament to the 'glory' that is Night City that no one else between where I was shot and home has made even the slightest comment. Not that I paid any attention to a single person around me. For all I know, they were staring at me all the way home. Who cares?

"Do me a favor puta, be a single hour late so I can kick your ass out."

With his piece said, he turned back to his vid and ignored me. I turned and made my way to the elevator. I had three days to make twenty-five hundred eddies. If I wasn't so desperate there's no way in hell I would have taken the job that got me shot. If I see the bitch that sent me on it again I'm shooting her in the gut to see how she likes it. Course, if I see her input again I'm going to rip the fucker into little bits and recycle his ass.

I stepped into my apartment and sighed. I tried to keep the place as clean as I could. Just being outside was a pretty filthy experience so I didn't want my home to be dirty. Despite my best efforts, the building itself was shit and fought against my every effort. The small room had water-stained walls, hints of mold that I fought every day, and was infested with roaches (about the only living thing in Night City aside from humans). The whole place was dark, dank, and dreary despite the bright overhead light.

I immediately begin stripping off my clothes and throwing them in the trash. Small blood stains were a bitch to get out, that much blood would be fucking impossible. The only thing I kept were my shoes since it's the only pair I have. With that done, I step into the bathroom and head for the mirror. It's the moment of truth. Either I should look a little different or I'm bat shit fucking insane. I'm not sure which is the worse option honestly.

I can see myself in the mirror and it's definitely not the old me. I look exactly like I made the avatar look earlier in the evening. Not to inflate my own ego, but I was a decent-looking guy before, thanks to my mother's excellent genetics. Now? I could probably be a model. I have black hair swept back and cut short on the sides, high cheekbones, a straight nose, and nice lips. Most importantly though, I now have emerald green eyes that match what my mother had and what I had when I was born, before I got my optics.

My mother was a single mother and did the best she could for me. We never had much but it was enough since we had each other. When I was old enough to get my optics installed, we got what we could afford for me. Unfortunately, that meant the cheapest color choice, plain brown. Getting optics that matched my birth eyes would have cost several thousand eddies for a custom pair. No color-changing pair could quite match the depth of color my natural eyes had. But now? Now I had my birth eye color back and it was wonderful.

The rest of my body hadn't really changed. I think I can barely see some hint of abdominal muscles but... I honestly hadn't checked myself out like this before so I could have had that before for all I know. I can say for certain that my anatomical changes below the belt were clearly there. Nice. My next output would probably appreciate that.

I finish checking myself out and hop into the shower to wash the dried blood and other filth off of my body. I'm no hypochondriac or anything, but some areas of the city are just plain filthy and likely full of disease. Better safe than stuck with a huge debt from having to hit a hospital.

With my shower finished I slip on some clean clothing. Once that was done I made my way over to my computer and sat in the half-broken chair in front of it. A flick of my left wrist popped out the connector for my personal link which I plugged into the device. I used it as security for logging in instead of a password, it was slightly more secure that way. I wasted no time in getting to the NCPD's website and getting access to their wanted database. It was open to the public and the NCPD actively encouraged people to use their system to identify and take out wanted criminals. Seriously, they didn't give a fuck if the target was alive or dead. If you saw someone with a bounty you could walk up to them, shoot them in the head without blinking, and the NCPD would send over the reward as soon as your optics confirmed the target was eliminated.

The only reason it wasn't more popular was simply that no one was gonk enough to do it for very long. Kill every witness and you might be fine. If you get caught on security cameras or a witness rats you out and the gang you pissed off would be gunning for you. It's kinda funny, really. If you get a gig from a fixer and blow away twenty gang members, they don't usually give a fuck since it's just biz. Shoot one goon for the NCPD and you're enemy number one. Honestly, if I could think of anything else I'd do it. But I got no contacts, no cash, and no choice. Maybe I'll get lucky and find some crimes being pulled off my non-gang members. No one gives a fuck about randos.

With the database loaded up, I grab a jacket and put my shoes back on. It's time for that fucking drink and the Coyote is just down the street. It's not a long walk and as I get closer I spot someone that I really wish I had the option to talk to, Padre. His real name is Sebastian Ibarra and he was one hell of a fixer. He used to run with the Valentinos but changed for some reason. I dunno what happened but what I do know is, his jobs have excellent pay. The problem is, I got no rep, no real weapons, and nothing I can offer. You don't just walk up to someone like the Padre and ask for a job. That's a good way to get his bodyguard, who I can see right next to him, to shoot me in the face.

There was a third person there that I didn't know and I wasn't about to pull a gonk move and walk over to them. Instead, I walked into the Coyote and spotted a familiar face take a shot of tequila from Pepe, the bartender, before wrenching her broken nose back into place. I grinned and made my way over to the bar, "V! The fuck you doing back in Night City?"

V came up in Heywood like myself, she was a few years older though. I sort of looked up to her when I was younger. Even had a crush on her when I was a hormonal teen. Now she was just a decent friend that left for Atlanta a couple years back. I honestly didn't expect to see her again, or for her to look so good.

She had part of her head shaved on one side with the rest of her long hair flipped over to the opposite side of her head. It was black at the roots but transitioned to red. She turned on the stool to look at me and I got to see she'd gotten a few more piercings in her ear and her eyes had changed to blue. Probably different optics. She smirked when she saw me, "X, you little shit, the hell you doing here?"

I snickered at the nickname. The first time I met her and she introduced herself as V, I decided turnabout was fair play and told her to call me X. My full name is Alexander Savage. My mom nicknamed me Xander after some guy in a TV show from the stone ages that her own mother had loved as a kid. So I went with X instead of A, frankly X is cooler. I walked over to the bar and hopped on a stool while gesturing for a shot from Pepe, "Getting a goddamn drink. Been a hell of a day."

I picked up the shot glass Pepe set in front of me while V raised an eyebrow, "Aren't you a bit young to be drinking, kid?"

I shot V a glare though my tone was playful, "I'm twenty-two now, bitch."

With that said, I downed the shot of bottom-shelf tequila. Pepe knew I couldn't afford anything with a decent price tag attached. Pepe might be a bit of a fuck up in life, but he was a hell of a bartender and took care of the regulars. V smirked at me, "Right. Right. I forgot you were twenty when I left. Shit, time flies."

She was about to continue, but Pepe interrupted us by leaning on the counter between us. He looked nervous as he glanced between V and myself before focusing on V, "V, I need a bit of a favor."

I instantly tuned Pepe out. He was probably in debt to someone again and looking for a little help. Like I said, shit at life. As desperate as I am, there's no way in hell I'd look for a 'loan.' I hear him mention Kirk and grimace. I especially wouldn't want a loan from Kirk. The guy tried to pass himself off as a fixer with connections but he was really just the worst kind of slimeball. Even worse, he was incompetent. Always thought he was so clever and on the surface, his jobs looked legit. Except, something always goes wrong. I'm so glad Pepe asked V for help and not me. Besides, I helped Pepe last time so it was definitely someone else's turn.

When they finished talking, V turned to face me, "I'm going to go take care of this X." She made a gesture and sent her contact info over to me, "Keep in touch, yeah?"

I stored her info and nodded, "I'll call you on the holo later."

I watched her hop off the stool and head for the second floor. I didn't look away from her swaying hips until Pepe cleared his throat, loudly. I grimaced and look at him. He was giving me a look that let me know he saw me staring. The condescending smirk didn't help. I just grunted and pushed the empty shot glass toward him, "Shut up and gimme another."

Pepe's smirk grew but he did as I asked. Okay, so maybe my crush on V isn't quite as dead as I wanted it to be. It was pointless anyway. I'd let her know how I felt a few years before she left. She was pretty nice when she turned me down. Turns out, we both have an eye for the finer sex. We never spoke of the incident again. Regardless of all that though, V was someone you could count on to have your back as long as she considered you a friend. I'd always help her if I could as well.

As Pepe placed the refilled shot glass in front of me, I realized something. V was pretty close to the Padre. If I ask nice, maybe owe her a favor or two, she'd probably be willing to introduce me. However, I knew not to ask yet. I still needed some better gear. No way in hell was I going to be able to do a gig for the Padre with a Slaught-O-Matic. I still needed to get my hands on some better weapons. Hopefully, I could snag some armor at the same time. Leveling up and getting stronger would be helpful as well.

So, my plan for tomorrow hasn't changed at all. Only now, once I got gear, I have a pretty good in with a reliable fixer. I can't help grinning happily as I down the second shot of tequila. Feeling the cheap liquor burn its way down my throat is a wonderful feeling as I contemplate my future. It was looking brighter by the minute.

AN

Welcome to my Cyberpunk 2077 fic. It's barely gotten started but I'm pretty happy with the setup.

A few things before people start screaming. This fic will not be following the cannon storyline of the game. Yes, the character knows V and that might lead to some fun interactions but I don't plan to change V's fate or anything. My character also won't replace V. Keep in mind that the stuff at the end of the chapter would take place 6 months before Konpeki Plaza, the real beginning of V's story. That's six months I can mess around with. And even when the game's canon begins, I would only have my character helping V a bit here and there sometimes.

No, this story will be about Alexander's climb to the top to become a Night City legend of his own. Still, if you're familiar with the games, he will be interacting with characters that are known. This should be a given since some, like Rogue, are big players that he could get gigs and such from. It'd be stupid not to have them show up where appropriate. Also, don't expect this character to be rapidly OP like the MC from my other story. While the system will let him become nearly god-like, it will take a fair amount of time and levels. But, he can become just as broken as characters in the video game can. Might take him a bit of trial and error to figure out though since, like the game, not every scrap of information is instantly available to him. Like the bit about Technical Ability having zero mention of crafting during character creation. That's legit and as someone who likes crafting in games, something I would have liked to know when I made my first character!

BTW V is (obviously) a streetkid and looks like the female V from the trailers.

Lastly, I would very much appreciate some reviews. I know there's not much to the story so far, but this is the first time I've ever written in the first person and I would appreciate any feedback I can get.