A/N: Hi guys!
Here's another showcase teaser and yes… it's Cyberpunk. I don't need to say much except enjoy it. I had a bit of fun at the end.
Disclaimer: Cyberpunk 2077 was developed by CD Projekt Red and published by CD Projekt. Any characters, topics and ideas that are not original content belong to them.
Cyberpunk Edgerunners is based on Cyberpunk 2077. The characters were created by Rafal Jaki with the story/scenario being created by Mike Pondsmith. Production companies credited are Studio Trigger and CD Projekt. Lastly, the distributor is Netflix.
Warning: This goes without saying but this is the world of Cyberpunk. As such this short story is rated M for Mature Audiences. Some, if not most of what you read will be graphic in nature. Viewer discretion is advised.
To live and die in Night City…
The word legend is thrown around with very little meaning nowadays. Ever since the world has gone to hell, corporations and armies took over the remains of it. The result?
A massive body made of metal and little flesh stood over the broken meat. The surroundings were a mess from the battle that had occurred. While a disappointment, the nightmare cyborg was content that he had got to stretch his legs at least. Corpo or not, he was paid with good money and no longer the weakling he was all those years ago.
Priming his arm cannon, the death dealing attack dog stared at the dying youth in a hi-vis jacket. Not even giving him a chance for some famous last words, the cyborg pulled the trigger…
You get this shitty place.
Richard Night, the visionary that he was, saw that the world was tearing itself apart. What he dreamed of was the ideal city where crime and violence would not affect the populace to great extremes. Corporations were meant to be the providers and saviors to the citizens. The police, fire department and medical personnel would continue their usual duties as civil servants to the people. And to top it off, citizens could elect representatives to speak on their behalf in the form of the mayor and the city council
You would think that with Richard Night's vision everything would fall in place right?
A young man leaned on the hood of his car, arms crossed as he eyed the city skyline. Beside him was a beautiful woman with sunkissed skin, dark locks put into a loose bun and brown eyes. Huffing, the man looked to his right as the woman smiled and leaned her head onto his shoulder. Smirking softly, the man relished the contact before looking back at the city.
This was something to be treasured. Even though the man had made himself into a legend, he never forgot his roots. Same could be said for his girl. After all, nothing in life could get pair of Nomads down.
You would be wrong there my friend.
Night City was and still is a place for dreams. It took what made big cities like New York, Los Angeles and Miami special before molding itself into its own beast. Nowadays the corporate world is working the city through subterfuge and brute force. Politicians and police practically bend over backwards for their corporate masters, some hoping that the recognition they gain will give them a better life than they already have.
If you're a tourist or an outsider looking in, you don't understand a damn thing about this place. If you seek excitement or a fresh start then you don't know Night City.
Two women with similar hair styles can be seen cuddling with minimum sleepwear on. The woman with green/pink dyed hair smiles in her sleep, her fingers were idly combing through the locks of the taller woman clinging to her. As for the other woman, she mumbles something as she buries her head into the chest of the smaller woman.
Comfort… warmth… security… love…
Having gone through so much in so little time, these two have deserved the peace they earned. One a gifted techie, the other a legendary solo.
In the year 2077, Night City was voted the "Worst place to live in America."
Night City is a place for dreamers, doers, workers, the rich, the poor, the sick and so on…
But Night City was home to tales, stories, myths…
It had happened all too fast.
Several of the Voodoo Boys men were on patrol outside the warehouse. Usually, nights in Night City meant a higher amount of activity than during the day. Typically, this is the most opportune time when criminals, scum and gangoons thrive.
As one of the Voodoo Boys grunts was walking behind a storage container, he felt a prick as his neck before knowing nothing else.
Cloaked, a legendary hunter growled from his vantage point. These disgusting oomans were involved in a bad trade. If his clan and own team were to look at him now they would question him. When he grew up he had trained up, following in the footsteps of his bearer. Several hunts, worthy of song and tale, ended up with the hunter being blooded. The hunter then proceeded on many hunts, accomplishing feats far and wide across the cosmos. Still young by his people's standards, he returned to one of his favorite hunting grounds as part of a larger mission.
But he could reminisce, brood and muse on his thoughts later. Right now he needed to take care of these… filth would be a more fitting term. Growling again, the hunter leapt towards another container, leaving behind a sound of dull thumps.
A couple of VDB on patrol were making idle chatter, unknowingly passing by a spot where one of their own had been slain. Elsewhere in the shipyard, the leader of this particular band of VDB was smoking by his car, keeping a share eye on his people. A new shipment of product had just arrived and he was very much eager to get it on the streets ASAP. As the gang leader smoked a joint, he got an alert sent to his implants. Scowling, the man shoved the joint in his mouth before drawing his pistol. Several texts were sent out to his men and a mere moment later the group was combing the area for an intruder.
One member of the VDB was isolated between a set of shipping containers, the darkness blanketing him. As the ganger was sweeping the area with his rifle, his instincts told him to look up and to his right. Painted right on his forehead was a laser in the shape of a triangle. He could only gasp before heat washed over his head…
Several VDB heard something via their auditory sensors. Suspicious as to what was going on with their choom they went to investigate. Just as they neared the last known location of their choom, chaos erupted.
One VDB left his feet and not of his own doing, A net caught the poor bastard, trapping him along the side of a container and cutting into his skin. The gangoon next to him was ready to help his friend… only for a ball of plasma to slam into his back making a new hole. Stumbling, the dying member of the VDB squeezed the trigger of his rifle, firing off shots in his last moments alive.
Three more VDB were panicking but formed a coherent response. Turning in the direction of the shot, the small group fired everything they had. Fortunately, it seemed to drive their intended target off. Unfortunately, said target was nowhere close to done with them.
From the flank, a spinning disc appeared and sliced right through the head of VDB member. Face frozen, the man fell to his knees as blood gushed down the sides and top of his head. Falling down, the dead man's skull could no longer contain his brains as matter and gore spilled everywhere.
Stunned disbelief took over the last two and that would prove to be their undoing. Dull thumps approached them in a rapid manner, alerting the two VDB members that whoever killed their buddies was now gunning for them. Frozen, the two could only hold their weapons up as the devil uncloaked. Blades now extended he was coming in for the kill…
Legend is a word that shouldn't be tossed around lightly in conversation.
To be an Edgerunner you are not remembered by how you live most of the time. You're typically remembered by how you died.
"Look at you."
Oswald "Woodman" Forrest maintained a blank expression as he gazed at the vulnerable, nude form of one Evelyn Parker. This doll had been involved in a major heist of Arasaka. The heist in question had of course resulted in thousands if not millions of eddies in property damage, stolen propery…
And the death of one Saburo Arasaka.
She knew things. Things that were invaluable to many people in the city. Including the Voodoo Boys. Unfortunately for her, she was not expected to recover from the heavy trauma done to her cyberware. At least in the eyes of Oswald.
Evelyn had been with a client when the cyberware attack happened and via Oswald's Tyger Claws sources, she was being silenced for information she had known. Silenced by the Voodoo Boys. Evelyn Parker was now officially bad for business.
"All you are is fuckable meat. My. Fuckable. Meat." He stated.
He lost his sport coat before throwing it off to the side and undoing the buttons on his sleeves.
"All you dolls… even the Moxes are nothing but meat for me. And I for one won't waste a prime opportunity like this. Your friends want me to fix you…"
Then Oswald's face darkened before he ripped the front of his shirt open, showing girth, hairiness and greasiness. Despite claiming himself to be a smooth talker, Oswald was a man of ego and arrogance. These traits of course went hand in hand with the 'caretaker' of the Dolls of Clouds.
Oswald's hands traced down Evelyn's form before going to her legs. He slowly opened them up before reaching down for his pants. He was hardening with dark anticipation because at the end of the day he was getting what he was owed. And just as he was about to perform the deed…
"BOSS!"
Growling, Oswald left the back room and went to his office. Standing there in the door was one of his men, a name he had long forgotten.
"You better have a good reason for interrupting me when I gave orders not to be disturbed!" Oswald thundered.
The guard for his part look disheveled. He was shaking uncontrollably, eyes darting back and forth before landing on Oswald. Oswald however raised a brow in impatience and curiosity as to why one of his best men looked so spooked. Seconds dragged on before the guard gave a whimper…
BOOM!
Splat!
Blinking, Oswald took the time to reevaluate his current situation. His form was now coated in the blood and viscera of one of his longtime bodyguards. That much was obvious. In addition to that, the spot where said bodyguard stood was now a mix of smoke, ash and guts. Wiping away the blood from his face, Oswald shook his head and cursed under his breath. It had now dawned on Oswald why his muscle had suddenly rushed in.
Oswald quickly rushed towards one of the lockers in order to find some iron.
"They owe me extra eddies for this Ozzy. I told them you would be stupid enough to think getting some iron might help you. But then again…" a voice trailed off.
Oswald froze in his tracks, eyes widening in shock and horror. He recognized that voice very well. That voice belonged to a man who had taken Night City and the world by storm as both a mercenary and a vigilante. This man had done wonders protecting the little man and sticking it to a lot of major corporations. Hell, this man was the reason Militech was rewriting their entire corporate playbook.
Oswald ignored the icy terror that gripped him, hands frantically opening the locker which housed his shotgun.
"Tsk. Tsk. Now that's just rude…"
An object embedded itself right next to Oswald's right arm. The supposed 'caretaker' of Clouds froze before slowly turning in the direction of the object. What he saw had confirmed his worst fears. This object in question was like shuriken in a sense or throwing knives depending on preference. It was red in color and shaped suspiciously like a bat.
A calling card… a warning.
This 'throwing star' beeped several seconds and Oswald's world became engulfed in white. He came to moments later, groaning and vaguely aware that pieces of him were missing. Rolling onto his stomach, Oswald desperately crawled to the backroom, cyberware no longer functioning and blood leaving him creating a mess. Behind him, a figure entered the threshold, steps purposeful and powerful as they approached him.
Oswald had wanted to be given his due via Evelyn's body. But that was no longer possible. He knew he was going to die here tonight. Oswald was just prolonging the inevitable with each action. Just as Oswald crawled closer to the room that held his 'meat', a pair of black boots entered his vision. Wide-eyed, mania present in his eyes, Oswald "Woodman" Forrester looked up to see his executioner.
Click
"I warned you Ozzy boy. The Mox, the Dolls… there are people under my protection. You fuck with me? You fuck with my people?"
Behind the glowing blue lenses, the young man smirked as his finger slowly squeezed on the trigger.
"You pay the price. See you in hell…"
BANG!
"Asshole."
To be a Netrunner you are not remembered by your skill and experience. You're typically remembered by being lost in the net, life in tatters and leaving reality behind.
The Tyger Claws were gearing up for a major operation. One of their donors from Arasaka managed to gift them with top-of-the-line chrome and weaponry. With these tools it was only a matter of time before the higher ups wanted to expand. Their first target? The Mox.
In order for them to assert dominance and seize Night City by storm, their first target would be their most loathed rival faction. The Mox from the beginning decided to stand for the underprivileged, the poor, the weak and defenseless. Having grown they still stood for that but not in the same way they had in earlier years. While the Mox did take care of others and each other, they weren't as generous with their care. It seemed the disease and filth of Night City rubbed off on them too.
This didn't matter in the eyes of the Tyger Claws. Like Arasaka, the Tygers valued power and respect. Fear was also a powerful motivator, and it was something the Tygers excelled at even more so than the Scavs or Voodoo Boys.
In a warehouse that had been acting as a base of operations, several Tygers were finalizing their strategies for an attack on a Mox based site. Outside, guarding the entrance were several Tygers armed with katanas and customized rifles. They had made sure to ward off any curious onlookers throughout the night so far. And with bribes ongoing, the NCPD was not going to show up anytime soon.
As one Tyger was scanning the street, he noticed a fog come in out of nowhere. Even with a wacky climate, nature on Earth still found a way to be itself per usual. Fog in a coastal city was a given east, west or even south. But something about this fog put the Tyger on edge.
"Something's not right brother…"
His fellow Tyger hummed in agreement. Narrowing his eyes, he utilized his optics to see what the fuss was about. Not a moment later, someone approached the warehouse with a steady stride. Both Tygers looked to each other, shrugged then looked back to the stranger.
Said stranger in question wore an overcoat of sorts, red clouds splashed randomly on the sides and back. This stranger also wore a straw hat with white cloth acting as a curtain. The stranger continued his approach before stopping. A steady wind picked up exposing the person's lower torso. He wore what appeared to be a cross between boots and sandals. Strapped to his pants around his thigh was a pouch of some sorts.
Instincts and gut feelings told both Tygers something was very wrong here. This… man had simply wandered into their territory for a reason. Not only that, he was very much dressed similar to…
Caw!
Freezing, both Tygers looked up to a nearby light pole. Perched along the support beam was a crow. Typically, avian species had been hit the hardest when the world went to hell. Some birds survived while others… well went the way of the dinosaurs. So, to the surprise and growing horror of the Tygers, the crow was a terrible omen. Months ago, a new solo had arrived on the scene after building up a rep abroad. He mostly spent his time in Hong Kong, Taiwan, Vietnam, Korea and Japan. While in Asia, this solo managed to root out and eradicate whole crime syndicates by himself. One of the survivors of this one-man campaign noted that the solo's calling card…
Caw!
Was the appearance of a dark feathered, red eyed crow.
Tensing both Tygers raised their weapons just as their target slipped a kunai into each hand. Eyes flaring, the man felt his power shift as his irises now bore the marking and signs of his family's bloodline trait. The eyes he possessed weren't the ones given to him by Shisui. Since coming to into this new life, the great sage had given him the gift of his true potential. The power he used to protect his little brother by becoming the ultimate villain. It was the power of a protector. The power of a true shinobi.
The power of a Uchiha.
("Jiraiya… Kakashi… I wonder what wisdom you can impart onto me now?")
With his brief musing done, the young man rushed forward. It was time to show the Tygers the true power of the Crow of Night City.
To be a legend in this city… is to live and die.
Saburo Arasaka has been alive for a century and a half. He has seen many things, experienced them too. In his life he carries pride and regret. Some regret lies with the state of his family and all that he has done to build his family's company. This was his legacy. He wanted to leave something meaningful behind.
So, Saburo Arasaka kept calm in the face of a literal storm on his doorstep.
When security had alerted him of a strange man in a tattered cloak demanding for Adam Smasher, he gave them to go ahead to escort the man off the premises. That backfired. With initial efforts by security failing, Saburo authorized use of lethal force on the intruder. This made it hard to conduct business solely because said intruder was somehow immune to bullets.
It made no sense.
In the world of cyberware and bioware, there were still limits humanity had yet surpassed. This man had defied all logic and made a mockery of the Arasaka name. Bullets did not harm him, evident when the man deflected them with his bare hand or tanked them across his person. Explosives had no effect on him as even rockets did nothing but annoy him.
In the end the man grew tired of the game. So, the man in black dispatched Arasaka's security forces with relative ease. Saburo made sure to preserve as much footage as possible. This man… this being had moved at speeds even a military grade sandevistan could not even go. A major reason why he reluctantly convinced Yorinobu to send out Adam Smasher.
One short confrontation later and this was the result. Adam Smasher defeated in a mere moment, lying in a crater and unconscious to the world around him.
His family was shielded from the rain by black umbrellas. Their faithful companions and bodyguards were by their sides ready to defend the Arasaka family to the death. But that would not be necessary.
Saburo calmly looked in the ethereal eyes of the man in black as he hovered there. It was then Saburo got a good look at what was underneath that cloak. A black suit with golden boots, a belt and bracers. Across the chest was what appeared to be a big lightning bolt.
Following this incident, Saburo would use his resources to find out more about this man. The emperor, a man of great passion and ambition would soon wish he had not learned who he had just encountered.
Truth be told, legends tend to live on. The only thing that comes to an end is man…
"I don't trust you. None of you in fact."
Rogue Amendiares crossed her arms, cocking her hip out. Although aged, Rogue was like fine wine. She was still gorgeous, hence why some of the younger crowd in Night City would sometimes try their luck with the Queen of Fixers. This however did not mean anything to seven people standing in front of her.
"I've heard of your reputation. You guys have a reputation for getting the job done and being efficient. That's better than half of the shit crews here in Night City. Hell, I know some of these gonks could take a lesson or two from you." Rogue continued.
It started to rain, slowly but steadily making Rogue sigh. She flipped up the hood on her jacket. Her people continued to cover the area behind her, ensuring security. This is the type of thing Johnny would have had… nah. Being a fixer wouldn't have been Johnny's style.
"Your concerns have been noted Miss Amendiares. Rest assured, my knights and I are more than capable of fulfilling your request. Speaking of…"
The leader, though young was someone who made Rogue wary. She would have called him out, his personality running somewhere along the lines of edgelord and a total emo. But by reputation he was one of the most dangerous men on the planet.
Right next to Adam Smasher.
Right next to Morgan Blackhand.
And next to Johnny Silverhand had the rocker not been zeroed by Arasaka.
Still, Rogue was playing this safe. This man was powerful and so were his crew.
("Why he calls them his Knights though is anyone's guess…")
"What do you require of us?"
Huffing, Rogue extended her hand containing a shard. Humming the leader wordlessly took the shard from the Queen of Afterlife… via use of his otherworldly powers. Rogue shivered seeing the 'talents' of this man at work. Yes, she had seen whatever footage that hadn't been scrubbed from the Net. This group's exploits were secretive to the point whole governments wanted to keep their activity under wraps. But to witness this power in person… it made someone like Rogue feel a bit smaller.
The leader of these Knights handed to shard off to the one with the gnarly looking arm cannon. This Knight put the shard into his helmet, tilting his head as information streamed into his helmet and cortex. He then looked to the leader and nodded. Chuckling, the leader looked to Rogue.
"A fixer who is less than honorable. Not only that he has corporate ties as well… yes. I believe we can get the job done." He stated with confidence.
With a swirl of his tattered cloak, he turned on his heel and walked off into the night disappearing without a trace. But as the man and his knights made out like shadows, his voice echoed in the area.
"When we conclude our business Miss Amendiares, don't find us. We'll find you…"
Rogue once again shivered. This man and his crew were trouble for Night City. They had already conquered the world with their powers, weapons and reputation. She'd hate to see what would happen in the corpos tried crossing them.
To live and die in Night City…
…
2074
Night City
Afterlife
Nightttime
Rogue had been relaxing in her personal booth. It was a typical night in Night City. Gangsters and ruffians would sometimes clash leaving some collateral damage. The cops were inadequate and inept, the few good of the bunch being tied up by red tape and their own partners. Corporations were banking on the misery of the populace depending on where people lived. As for Rogue? Being the Queen of the Afterlife kept her head above the choppy waters of the ocean that was Night City.
Rogue had been the owner of Afterlife coming up on two decades next year. While she was a cog in Night City's machine, she was the type of cog that chose her own path and lived life the way she saw it. With her power, influence and backing Rogue could summon a small army and take out a few of the major powers of the city. But she wasn't Johnny Silverhand. She wasn't a man who, while being loyal to his friends was very much volatile and a menace to society.
("You never could see the bigger picture Johnny…") she mused while sighing.
Right now, Rogue was going over logistics. Claire had told her there was a shortage of beverages in the last shipment coming from Texas. Some of those drinks were hard to come by as the distilleries and breweries that produced them were high quality. As her eyes scanned the report, Rogue idly noticed Weyland tensing up. Brow raised, Rogue looked over to see a figure approaching. He wore a trench coat, dark hair with some patches of grey that made him look distinguished. He had a cigar in his mouth and despite his seasoned appearance he appeared in good health. But what made Rogue's eyes widen in shock and surprise was the anodized black chrome cyberlimb.
"No fucking way…" she murmured.
The man was a living legend in the flesh. Rumors and myths surrounded him for so long which was justified. This man was spoken in the same breath as Rogue's old flame Johnny. In front of her, this man was the epitome of what it meant to be a true solo. Not like the younger generation nowadays as most had lost sight of that.
This man was none other than Morgan Blackhand, war veteran and mercenary for hire. The Solo's Solo.
Morgan stopped several feet away from Rogue's booth, a friendly expression on his face.
"Been a while Rogue. Happy to see you in good health." He greeted.
Rogue blinked a few times before sighing.
Funny story really… Rogue had worked with Morgan before. He was good people and usually kept his circle small. While has a pragmatist and very much looking out for himself, he still made a few friends. No true family though as far as anyone knew.
"What are you doing here Morgan?" she inquired.
Morgan for his part raised a brow. Rogue rolled her eyes, leaning back in her seat and crossing her arms.
"While it is good to see you and all, I know you're for a reason. So spill." Rogue said.
Sighing, Morgan took his cigar out of his mouth.
"Straight to business eh? You and I need to talk later if you're going to be that way then."
"Business first Black. Even though the crowd hasn't arrived yet, I still need to keep up with appearances." Rogue clarified.
Morgan chuckled, smoke exiting his nostrils. He then looked to Rogue with amusement and mirth in his eyes.
"We're friends Rogue. I'd rather we talk a lot about life and only a little about shop. But sure I understand."
Reaching into his pocket, Morgan retrieved a shard. He then extended the shard to Weyland who inspected it before handing it to Rogue. Rogue inspected it before looking at Morgan with a bit of scrutiny.
"Got some new blood with me. I figure he could help you out. Tends to make messes at times but can be stealthy if you ask nicely." Morgan explained briefly.
So, Morgan was recommending someone to Rogue directly. Before she would consider slotting the shard, she would do some digging first. Leaning forward, Rogue stared Morgan down.
"You almost never take anyone on Black. Even more so you rarely if ever make recommendations. So give it to me straight, what kind of hot blooded gonk am I dealing with here?" she questioned.
At this, Morgan stood still for a moment before sighing heavily and pinching the bridge of his nose.
"You'll see." He answered wearily.
Rogue would have spoke up had she not been notified of a new visitor… or that the speaker systems were just hijacked.
[Play Music]
Hey Macklemore? Can we go thrift shopping?
Coming through the door was danger and awesome personified.
What, what, what, what
What, what, what, what
What, what, what, what
What, what, what, what
The man was clad in a red and black spandex, armor placement being on the shoulders and knees. He wore a mask that covered his whole face, where Rogue could barely make out where the eyeholes were.
What, what, what, what (bada, bada, bada doo da)
What, what, what, what (bada, bada, bada doo da)
What, what, what, what (bada, bada, bada doo da)
What, what, what, what (bada, bada, bada doo da) oh
On the man's back were a pair of customized katanas. Around his waist was a utility belt with several pouches. Claire, the bartender, was confused as to why there was a unicorn keychain hanging from one of the pouches. She then blushed once she got a view of the man's crotch.
(Bada, bada, bada doo da)
(Bada, bada, bada doo da) oh
(Bada, bada, bada doo da)
(Bada, bada, bada doo da) ow
At the man's hips were a pair of custom Tsumani Nue pistols. In his right hand was a duffle bag, filled to the brim with weapons and ammo of every sort. But in his left hand? He was holding a plastic bag that contained two bricks and a vial.
Two pounds of weed, 2 kilos of cocaine and the cure for blindness. That's what was in the bag. Who knew this? Only the costumed stranger and Morgan Blackhand.
Rogue for her part was baffled as to why this new gonk was strutting in like he owned the place. Better yet, she wondered why in the hell this guy was wearing a cowboy hat and shades that looked suspiciously like the pair Johnny used to sport. Rogue then looked over to Claire to see the poor girl blushing. Puzzled Rogue looked back to the man to see why Claire was so embarrassed and angry. The reason why was…
Eye twitching and a rush of heat hitting her face, Rogue shut her eyes and did everything she could to even her breathing.
I'm gonna pop some tags
Only got twenty dollars in my pocket
I, I, I'm hunting, looking for a come-up
This is fucking awesome
The mercenary in red strode over with full confidence and swagger. Stopping in front of Rogue's booth, he set his bags down before whipping his shades off his masked face. Smirking, the merc cleared his throat and was preparing to speak…
[Music cuts off abruptly]
"Wade."
The now named Wade paused before looking to Morgan with a frown. Morgan then pointed down at Wade's pants. Wade blinked before looking down and freezing. No wonder it was feeling breezy down there.
His long, schlong silver was dangling in the open since leaving his place. No wonder those dolls were looking at him with digital heart eyes.
(A/N: … Dammit Wade. Why did I agree to let you run camera shots for this bit? I'm glad we both had the foresight to include the black bar from your game.)
Chuckling, Wade held up a finger before working his junk back into his pants. Business finished, Wade snapped to attention before saluting like the old French army soldiers.
"Wiggity wiggity wiggity Wade Winston Wilson is in the muthafucking house! Oh yeah!" he exclaimed.
You could hear a pin drop in the place. Weyland for his part just looked to his boss, hoping to get the order to toss the gonk out and let the Scavs or Animals have 'em. Claire for her part leaned on the bar, confused yet curious to see what the new blood was about. Morgan just shook his head while continuing to smoke his cigar. And Rogue?
Rogue had gotten her composure back and cleared her throat. Looking to the now named 'Wade' she was about to speak… until he literally teleported in front of her minus the cowboy hat. Getting down to a knee, Wade gently took Rogue's left hand before kissing it through his mask. Then he smiled and looked at her dreamily.
"Ah… milf."
Rogue could only stare in disbelief at the… comment? Compliment? Even with a blush, Rogue's left eye was twitching uncontrollably. Meanwhile, Morgan groaned before muttering underneath his breath that Wade was a dumbass. Weyland agreed with that sentiment and so did Claire by the bar… who was fighting off a case of giggles.
Wade continued to look at Rogue with admiration and a bit of lust…
Then he slowly turned to look at the camera and the readers. In typical fashion, he wiggled his eyebrows, mood very much mischievous and playful.
"Now how's that for a fucking reveal kiddies?" Wade questioned with a smirk.
Unfortunately for the smooth operator and mutate, this action had earned a bit of Rogue's ire as well as that of her bodyguard. With an impassive expression, Weyland obeyed a nonverbal cue and handed Rogue her personal weapon Pride before aiming it at Wade's head.
What alarmed Rogue to a degree was that Morgan did nothing to stop her. All he did was sigh in exasperation as if he knew what was coming next.
Click
BANG!
"Ah! Fuck! My brain!"
A/N: Cut!
Featured Song: Thrift Shop by Macklemore
I couldn't resist it. I had to throw Wade in there. Cyberpunk and the Merc life go hand in hand. Why wouldn't Wade go to Night City? And why has no one tried yet besides me with my teaser? I will give you motivation and inspiration my friends!
I'm still finalizing my plans on cross posting with FFN and AO3. Hopefully I get something done before Christmas. As for my three major stories, the chapters have been worked on and are almost complete. My aim is to get at least one or two chapters each for the three stories and end the year on a high note. I know you all have been awaiting updates and I thank you for your patience.
For the members of the audience we lost during the pandemic, my thoughts and prayers are with your loved ones.
As always, leave a review in the comment/review section. You guys are the best.
Until next time!