She stumbled out of bed and made her way to the kitchen, where she prepared a cup of coffee and a stale piece of bread for breakfast. Looking out the window, she could see the dementors hovering over the city, their cold presence casting a shadow over the once-vibrant Night City.
As a former Braindance technician, she had seen the industry collapse before her eyes, leaving her with no other choice but to turn to the black market. She had become a shadow of her former self, her once vibrant personality now replaced with a sense of hopelessness and desperation.
With the emergence of the Dementors, a new market for XBDs had emerged. She saw an opportunity in the situation, and began to exploit the dementors' presence by creating brain dances that were specifically designed to elicit the experience of the dementors' kiss. These braindances, known as "Dementor XBDs," were sold on the black market and quickly gained popularity among those who sought a more intense thrill.
She saw firsthand the effects these braindances had on their users, some of whom were left traumatised and unable to function. But the eddies were too good to pass up, and she needed to survive in the harsh reality of Night City.
She knew that what she was doing was wrong, but she felt trapped, unable to escape the cycle of poverty and desperation that had consumed her. The presence of these creatures had only added to the sense of despair. The XBDs she created were a reflection of this despair, and she knew that it was only a matter of time before someone got hurt. But she had no other options, no other way to survive in a city that had turned its back on her.
Kerry Eurodyne
Kerry Eurodyne had seen better days. The once-famous rockerboy had fallen on hard times since the dementors took over Night City. His music was no longer relevant in a world where people were more concerned with survival than entertainment.
Kerry spent his days holed up in his apartment, drinking himself into a stupor and reminiscing about the good old days. He had lost everything - his fame, his fortune, and his friends. Most of the people he had known in the music industry were dead or missing.
The only people he had left were the few diehard fans who still remembered his music. They would occasionally knock on his door, begging him to play a private show for them. But Kerry couldn't bring himself to pick up his guitar anymore. He was too disillusioned with the world around him.
His apartment was small and dingy, with peeling wallpaper and a leaky roof. Kerry could barely afford to pay the rent, let alone fix the place up. He slept on a lumpy old mattress in the corner of the room, surrounded by empty beer cans and discarded takeout containers.
Every now and then, Kerry would catch a glimpse of himself in the mirror and wonder how he had ended up like this. He used to be a rockstar, with adoring fans and a glamorous lifestyle. Now he was just another forgotten relic of a bygone era, struggling to survive in a world that had moved on without him.
Kerry knew that he would never make a comeback. The dementors had taken everything from him, including his will to live. He was a broken man, trapped in a bleak and hopeless existence that he could never escape.
Panam Palmer
Panam woke up early, as she always did, even though there was no longer a reason to. She felt the weight of the world on her shoulders, the burden of the memories of all those who were lost in Night City. The Aldecaldos had managed to escape, but she knew that many others had not been so lucky.
She went about her day, helping the Aldecaldos settle into their new home in the Badlands. The desert was hot and unforgiving, but at least they were safe from the dementors. Panam tried her best to keep everyone's spirits up, but it was a difficult task. The memories of what had happened in Night City were too fresh in their minds.
One day, while out scavenging with Saul, Panam stumbled upon an old motorcycle. It was beaten up and rusty, but Panam saw potential. She spent hours working on the bike, and eventually managed to get it running again. But even that was a struggle, as the Aldecaldos were now cut off from the rest of the world. There were no supplies coming in, no new parts to be had. They had to make do with what they had.
Riding the motorcycle through the Badlands gave Panam a sense of freedom she hadn't felt in a long time. She felt the wind in her hair and the sun on her face, and for a brief moment, she was able to forget about the horrors of the world around her.
Despite everything, Panam found some solace in being with the Aldecaldos. She had always felt like an outsider, even among her own family. But here, she was part of a community, part of something larger than herself.
In the evenings, they would sit around the campfire, telling stories and reminiscing about their past. It was bittersweet, knowing that they could never go back to Night City, but also grateful to be alive and together. Panam knew that they would always carry the scars of what had happened, but they could also find a way to move forward, to build a new life in the Badlands.
As she lay down to sleep at night, Panam couldn't help but feel a sense of hope. It was a small flame, but it burned within her nonetheless. She knew that their lives would never be the same, but they had each other, and that was enough.
River Ward
River Ward woke up to the sound of screams outside his apartment complex. He knew immediately what it was - the dementors had come again. He quickly got out of bed and went to check on his sister and her children who were sleeping in the next room. They had been staying with him ever since their own apartment had been destroyed by the chaos in Night City.
As he entered the room, he saw that his sister was already awake, clutching her children tightly. The youngest one, a little girl, was crying. River went over and tried to soothe her, telling her that everything was going to be okay. But he knew that it wasn't true. Nothing was ever okay anymore.
They could hear the dementors getting closer, their eerie whispers filling the air. River knew they had to leave, but he also knew that they couldn't just run out into the open. The dementors would sense their fear and feed on it.
He quickly went to the closet and grabbed his old pistol. It wasn't much, but it was all he had to protect his family. He checked to make sure it was loaded and then turned to his sister.
"We have to go now," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
She nodded, tears streaming down her face. They grabbed what little they could carry and left the apartment, moving slowly and quietly down the hall.
They were almost to the stairs when they heard a loud bang from behind them. River turned to see a dementor floating towards them, its mouth wide open, ready to feed. He didn't hesitate. He raised his gun and fired, hitting the creature directly in the chest. The dementor let out an ear-piercing screech, but it didn't stop.
River's sister and her children made it to the stairs, but he was still in the hallway, firing round after round at the dementor. It finally fell to the ground, but two more were already moving towards him. He knew he couldn't take them all on, but he also couldn't let them get to his family.
He yelled at his sister to keep going and then turned back to face the dementors. He fired at them, his shots hitting their mark, but it was too late. They were too close, and he knew he was going to die.
He thought of his family, of all the things he wished he could have done for them. But he knew he had done the one thing that mattered most - he had protected them. As the dementors closed in, he closed his eyes and accepted his fate.
Rogue Amendiares
As the dementors began to spread their influence throughout the city, Rogue's power and influence began to wane. Her contacts disappeared, her clients vanished, and she found herself struggling to keep up with the changing landscape. The dementors showed no mercy to anyone, no matter how powerful or well-connected they were, and Rogue was no exception.
In the early days of the dementor invasion, Rogue tried to use her connections and resources to fight back against them. She pulled every favor, gathered every piece of information, and mobilized every ally she had, but it was all in vain. The dementors were too powerful, and the more Rogue fought against them, the more they seemed to target her.
As time passed, Rogue's power and influence dwindled. Her contacts either died or were too scared to help her, and her reputation as a fixer was tarnished by her inability to stop the dementors. She lost clients, money, and respect, and was forced to retreat into the shadows.
Rogue found herself alone and powerless, with no way to fight back against the dementors or to regain her former position in Night City's criminal underworld. She was reduced to scavenging for scraps, trading in small-time jobs, and relying on the mercy of others. It was a far cry from the days when she was a queenpin, a master manipulator who pulled the strings of the city's most powerful people. Now, she was just another victim of the dementors' reign of terror.
In the end, Rogue was found dead in her room at the Afterlife, having overdosed on a cocktail of drugs. Her tragic end was a reflection of the bleakness that had overtaken Night City, where even the most influential and wealthy were not immune to the despair and hopelessness of the city.
Viktor Vektor
Most of his days were spent tending to the wounded and dying, and with the rise of the Soul-Ease epidemic, his workload had only increased. Patients were coming in with severe mental health issues, some of them beyond Viktor's expertise. He had to turn them away, knowing full well that they would never get the help they needed.
Despite his best efforts, Viktor felt like he was fighting a losing battle. The dementors were everywhere, and their influence had seeped into every aspect of life in Night City. Even the Trauma Team, once a beacon of hope for those in need, had been reduced to a shadow of its former self.
Viktor knew that he was just one small piece in a much larger, more broken system. He had seen friends and colleagues fall to the despair of the dementors, and he knew that he was not far behind. The constant exposure to suffering and pain had taken its toll on him, and he often found himself questioning whether he was making any difference at all.