Cyberpunk: Badland Madman Chapter 3 - The Debt, Judy’s Test, Misty’s Peace & Tinkering

Doc - https://docs.google.com/document/d/1WqTC8BGgi_rID04OP5Hn7jgMm7bs9eNiWbngbzhix30/edit?usp=sharing

_______________

The low hum of machines and a few evenly spaced beeps breached Cypher's ears. The muffled sounds slowly turned into gibberish, and then fully understandable speech. The last thing he remembered was blacking out to Judy arriving. 

Smells like… medicine.

He slowly opened his eyes only to be blinded by all the bright white lights. It was a hospital alright, futuristic to look at with all those machines working. The room was ordinary, however, only the lights and the light patterns on the wall reminded him that this was Night City. 

"The doctor will be with you in a moment, Mr. Blackwell." 

Cypher turned his head sharply towards the sound, but only found a smiling bust of a robot on the table, its eyes glowing warm green, a red cross painted on its chest. Probably some kind of low-level AI to monitor patients, he reckoned. 

Just as the robot had said, the door slid open with a gentle hissing sound. A bald old man entered, wearing a very sleek-looking white coat over a simpler-looking black suit. The thing to notice was the man's left eye, which was a cyberware, glowing blue; no lids, and just a protruding eyeball. It even had sleek wire lines going along the forehead to the back. 

"Good morning, Mr. Blackwell. I’m Doctor Haytham Kembly, assigned to your case. I handled the extraction of the round that penetrated your left lung. There’s no cause for concern. The Trauma Team delivered you here within ten minutes of the alert. Your recovery is nearly complete, and you are cleared for discharge this evening. Stay on the prescribed medication, and you should be able to walk and run again in two days."

My lung? 

Cypher raised his head to look down at himself, ignoring the corpo-speak of the professional doctor. Other than discomfort, he felt nothing. He had to give it to Cyberpunk. They’d gotten nearly everything wrong, but in terms of medical advancements, things were preem, as the people say. 

"Gotcha, doc. Guess my lady friend headed to work, huh? Think you can let her know I'm awake?"

"It's already been done, Mr. Blackwell," replied the small robot beside his bed. 

"If there's nothing else, I'll take my leave. Thank you for choosing the Trauma Team," the doctor gave a very corpo-like answer and left as stiffly as he walked inside.  

Alone again, well almost, Cypher relaxed on the highly comfortable bed, staring at the ceiling, and then out of the window, where he could see a few Trauma Team AVs flying around. It was so surreal yet real. 

Digesting what had transpired last night, he sighed. He didn't regret it, and he surprisingly didn't feel scared. Dying… didn't scare him much. Rather, he felt angry that he didn't do better and got shot. 

"Hey, robot?"

"Mr. Blackwell, you may address me as Trauma Tom or simply Tom. How may I assist you?"

"Tom…" Cypher felt more scared of asking this question. More than dying and getting shot. "What's the bill?"

"As of this moment, your total bill is fifty-eight thousand eurodollars."

"..."

Cypher's brain automatically multiplied it by two and got the US dollar equivalent. It made sense, however. He didn't have a Trauma Team coverage, so it was probably purchased for an emergency, and even that was likely the lowest tier. He didn't know what was covered under that, but clearly, taking a bullet out of him wasn’t on it. 

He whispered and coughed like a dumbass. "Living the American dream, huh? Medical bankruptcy, magical. Hey Tom, you think I can flip that into an EMI or something?"

"Of course, Mr. Blackwell. Please specify the duration you prefer. We offer three, five, and ten-year plans at eighteen, twenty-five, and thirty percent interest, respectively. We also provide extended coverage, including a twenty-five-year option at fifty percent interest."

"..."

"Say… What if I don't pay?"

"Mr. Blackwell, failure to settle your charges will lead to consequences. Trauma Team International follows strict financial protocols. Should all internal measures be exhausted, your outstanding debt will be assigned to an external collection entity."

Some gears ran in his head, and Cypher came to a conclusion right away. "Let me guess, Scavs? Yeah, figures. They'd just snag me, chop me up, and sell off my body parts so they get their money back."

Of course, the little fucker didn't respond to that. But that silence was enough for an answer. 

Cypher wasn't that bad at some simple calculations. He could get the rough figure in his head. If he took a three-year EMI, then he'd be paying roughly over two thousand each month, and a total interest of twenty-five thousand. But it was going to be heavy on his pocket, as good BD runs won't last forever. 

"Tom, so say I grab the five-year plan, yeah? And later, I come up with enough money to pay the whole thing off in a year, what goes down then?" He asked because he knew this was Night City and things couldn't be so simple. 

"An excellent selection and inquiry, Mr. Blackwell. Once a plan is chosen, adherence is required regardless of your payment timeline. For the five-year plan, even if you have funds available tomorrow, the full principal and accumulated interest are due, totaling one hundred and one thousand and sixty-two eurodollars."

"Fuck! I knew it!" He cursed loudly; he had to at that. "Fine, give me the five-year deal. I'll make it big in Night City, or I'm killing every damn Scav that comes for me."

"Fantastic choice, Mr. Blackwell. I will finalize this."

"So you are going to sell me to Scavs?" 

"I made no such assertion, Mr. Blackwell."

"Really?" Cypher eyed the small robot bust on the table. "Get your ass outta here."

"I am a machine, Sir. I do not have an ass."

"Sure got sass, though."

Right then, he received a notification in his vision. He didn't have Kiroshi optics or anything, just simple stuff that flashed images right onto his retina. That allowed him to see information and make calls with the neural link. 

The new notification came from the Trauma Team, detailing his EMI package. It appeared that Judy had paid five hundred for him to get the Full Body Life Coverage. But in that package, he was charged a hundred eddies every minute until he arrived at the hospital. Thankfully, there was no ammunition used, or equipment damaged, or else that would have been charged to him as well. 

Ugh… Gotta get my shit together. 

"Tom, wake me up when someone enters."

"Understood, Mr. Blackwell."

####

Lake Farm, Cypher's House,

"Ain’t liking this. Door’s smoked, wheels tore up the dirt. AV scorch marks, too. Our boys got no Trauma Team watching their backs."

"Nash, look! Those tracks roll right into the damn water!"

Tall, brute-looking Nash eyed the surroundings again, noticing the motorbike still at the front, parked. Having already seen the insides of the house, he could imagine what had happened. 

“Our boys are dead. Bet Cypher flatlined them. Leadhead always had razor aim. Go to the Trauma Team Tower and nose around for him. Won’t be hard.” Nash ordered the team of five raffens he led. 

"That BD junkie's grown a spine. Just gotta break it, or yank it clean out. Gotta be worth something.”

####

Judy was the unstable, emotional type, someone who felt responsible for those around her, and if something happened, she would feel deeply upset. It didn't make sense to Cypher why she even bothered with a brain potato like him. He was just a BD customer who let her use his place for the dives. 

But for whatever reason, she cared enough to grab him from the hospital and, instead of letting him head home, dragged him to her place in Kabuki. In her words, going home to Lake Farm was suicide.

"Eight thousand to the raffens? Seriously?" Judy’s voice spiked as she kept walking in tight circles, arms clamped across her chest, eyeing Cypher on her couch. "Gonk move. You could've pinged me. I’d have hooked you up with someone legit."

"Eh, all in the past. Doesn’t even stack up to the debt I got with Trauma Team. Being tied to a corpo feels worse. I can duck raffens if I have to, but a corpo? They don’t let go."

Judy flinched at that and stopped moving. She stared at him with concern. "H-How much… with the Trauma Team? Sorry, Cyph, my brain just blanked. You were bleeding out all over the place. If I'd driven you—"

"Hey!" Cypher pushed himself up with a loud, tired groan and clapped her shoulder firmly. "You saved my damn life, Judy. I don't got a single complaint. It's just a hundred big ones, and I got a solid deal to pay it off in five years."

Judy's face paled. "A hundred thousand? That's… Fine, fine, you got time. But the raffens? They won’t give you five years. They'll be on your tail way sooner."

"Them…" Pondering deeply, he tiredly sank back on the couch. "Yeah, I know those guys. The ones I grabbed the glitter from worked for Nash, some wannabe Wraith hotshot. Had like eight little cockroaches running around for him, guess it's five now. Shitheads used to call me every time they needed someone who could actually drive fast or shoot straight because they sure weren't worth a damn. So yeah. I'll just kill them all."

"..."

"Hah… of course." Judy laughed dryly and went over to the fridge. She snatched a beer, spun back around, and chucked the can at Cypher with a pissed grunt. “You seriously not spooked at all? Of just… flatlining?”

He caught the can. His reflexes were great, at least.

"Nope, not anymore. I don’t wanna rack up more debt, that’s for damn sure. So I gotta be real fast and real clean next time I shoot them," Cypher mumbled, already in planning mode. The glitter addicted body was spiraling, knocking off a few more screws loose, making him more short-headed, risk-taking. 

"Fast and sharp, yeah."

"You even listening to yourself, choom? Sounds like every wannabe merc talking about strutting into Afterlife," Judy said, leaning on the kitchen counter, taking a drink. "Keep that up and you're gonna get flatlined."

Not wrong. 

Cypher frowned when he thought a bit more, overcoming the spiralling addiction by rapidly tapping his heels on the floor. But he also knew that killing the raffens as soon as possible was important. Before the word of his 'betrayal' reached other raffens.

Just as he was busy with his thoughts, a new voice came from the apartment's door. Someone just walked in, high heels tapping on the floor. 

"So that’s the glitter junkie you won’t shut up about?"

“Hey, you’re home.” Judy lit up and walked over to wrap her up in a hug and a hot kiss. “That’s him. Cypher Blackwell. The gonk who can’t catch a fucking break.”

Cypher stared at the new woman, her hair pink, eyes green, fitted in a tight dress, quite pretty of asian heritage, he reckoned. And seriously, his eyes fought against him to move away from those revealing pale legs under her rather short skirt.

And… I'm bricked.

"Cyph, this is Maiko Maeda, my input."

"Wait." Cypher looked between them, brows all twisted. "I'm not trying to be insensitive, just curious. So who's the output then?"

Maiko snorted a dry laugh. "He’s amusing, at least. Keep him out of the room, Judy."

With that, Maiko vanished into the bedroom and never came out again. Judy, too, gave Cypher a short tour of the apartment, showed him the bathroom, and also her personal workstation, which was really sweet in Cypher's view. His fingers twitched to tap on those screens, but Judy banned him from doing that. 

Soon, it was just him in the living area, lying on the couch, a blanket on him. Having slept so much in the hospital, he didn't feel the need, but there wasn't anything else to do either. He worried about the Star Wars blaster he'd made, not wanting it to fall into raffens' hands. 

And then there was that itch to make the screwdriver. By now, he had enough time to digest what it really was. Sonic Screwdriver, as it was called, was an insanely advanced sort of all-purpose tool that could work on things on a molecular level. Opening electric locks, scanning cyberware, disabling cameras, overloading simple ICE, and even welding by vibrating matter.

He hadn't watched Doctor Who much, but knew enough that the Sonic Screwdriver was a thing in there. And now, somehow, he knew how to make it. 

That begged the question, how in the hell did a glitter sniffer learn all that? DL-18 blaster was one thing, but this Sonic Screwdriver was way, way more advanced than anything in the Cyberpunk world. So either glitter sniffing connected the dead Cypher with some sort of machine god in the sky, or something else was at play. 

Yet one thing was clear. He had to make this thing. One reason was to erase that tingling in his head, and the other was to find any tools to survive. The DL-18 blaster was great as a weapon, and with this Sonic Screwdriver, he reckoned he could be a decent ripperdoc mastering in tweaking Cyberware. 

Uh… need a Kiroshi optical probe for this… Fuck, this won't be cheap. 

He already knew what he needed to make it. And sadly, it was going to be harder than the gun, since the items required for the Sonic Screwdriver needed to be small and precise, and still powerful. He needed parts to make more parts, basically new inventions. 

"Aaaaaah! Yesssss!"

"..."

Cypher sat up like something had pricked his back. His head snapped towards Judy's bedroom door from where loud, excited, happy moans were coming. He just sat there, a blanket thrown over his body, even over his head, leaving only his face visible. 

Bricked up yet again. 

His brain started to imagine, being one creative fucker. All those BD's helped, and it almost left him blue-balled. 

Scissoring is that fun? 

Soon, he heard even louder moans, as if they were nearing the edge, and then came the whimpers, just whimpers. He gulped, his mouth dry, balls heavy, eyes sunken with need. It was either glitter or sex, any would do, he reckoned. And he knew he wasn't getting any.

I really gotta find myself a girl. Rita won't volunteer every day anyway. 

Finally, the sounds died down. But just as he got ready to lie down again, the door of the bedroom opened. 

Fuck! This is just… torture now!

Out walked Maiko, all nude, not a single piece of cloth on her. Her pink hair was untied, draping messily over her back. 

Maiko moved like she owned the air in the room. 

Long, sculpted legs carried her with that lazy sway, thighs tight, calves sharp. Every breath made that toned stomach flex just enough to remind you she could ruin you. Her tits, perfect handfuls, sitting high and proud, nipples still swollen from whatever Judy had done to her, glistening faintly with spit or sweat, or both. 

There was no need for makeup; those sharp cheekbones and the cold glint in her eyes all screamed ‘expensive, untouchable cunt.’ It made sense that she was a doll because she really looked like one.

Cypher’s gaze dragged up those endless legs, taking in her bosom for a few moments, and landed on her arrogant face. The way she looked at him, that side-eye could’ve frozen sake, yet it licked heat straight down his spine.

He watched her walk into the kitchen and grab a beer from the fridge. But then, instead of heading back into the room, she came over to him and just stood in front of him, leaning on one side over one leg, her thighs slightly apart, giving him an unrestricted glance at her pussy. 

Cypher stared just there, at her pussy. He saw it and knew it was a tight one, fake or not. He wanted to dive in, but knew he couldn't. This was a treasure he could only look at. 

"N…" He mumbled, trying hard to look up because even her breasts were amazing. "Nice pubes, who's the barber?"

"..."

Really? That's what I say? Pretty original, though. 

"You can stare all you want. I'm a doll, get much more than just looks."

"But you don't remember those," Cypher replied, really looking at her face. 

Maiko let out a sigh and walked away, back into the bedroom. But before Cypher could rest easy, she returned, now with a pack of cigarettes and a lighter as well. Still naked, she sat down right beside him, too close. 

Then she leaned sideways until her back was on the curved part of the couch, both her legs above, knees spread, her smile smug while she lit the cigarette. 

It was a tease, an open invitation to Cypher. 

Cypher couldn’t peel his eyes away. That pussy sat there like a goddamn masterpiece. Smooth, the lips plump and flushed, parted just enough to flash the slick, glossy pink inside. Impossibly tight. It was the first real, living cunt he’d seen since waking up in this nightmare of a body, and his brain short-circuited. Blood hammered south, hard. His heel started jack-hammering against the floor, a frantic little tap-dance of pure, stupid need.

Maiko didn’t just leave her legs open; she spread them wider. Knees sliding apart until the lower lips peeled open on their own, revealing that wet, clenching entrance that winked at him. A bead of fresh slick rolled down the seam and dripped onto Judy’s couch. 

"Want to?"

"Huh?" He looked up at her face, and all he saw was a triumphant smile. 

"A puff?" Maiko replied and sat up again, snug beside him, leg to leg as she offered him her cigarette. "Don't be shy."

He really needed it at that moment and grabbed the lit cigarette from her. But right when he took a puff, he felt Maiko sneak her hand under the blanket and down the waistband of his joggers like a master. Her tight grip clenched his hardness. 

He eyed her, and she eyed him back. 

"Mmm… Must be hard…"

Soft, cool fingers wrapped around his aching cock. She slowly squeezed once, then started stroking with a lazy precision that made his vision white-out. Up, twist at the head, drag back down, thumb swiping over the tip like she was signing her name. 

Every nerve in his body screamed at him to thrust into that perfect fist, to grab her, throw her back, and bury himself balls-deep. He had to clench his jaw to keep himself from groaning.

She never broke eye contact while her lips curled in that smug little smirk. She leaned in an inch, tits brushing his arm, and gave him another slow, milking pull that dragged a bead of precum out of him. Her grip tightened just enough to make his balls draw up tight.

His gaze ricocheted; her triumphant face, those arrogant tits, then down to that spread, glistening pussy. He could already feel it, phantom-tight, scorching, sucking him in while she laughed at how fast he lost it. One brutal thrust and he’d split her open, make that smug smile shatter into screams.

"Don't you want to have some fun? You can… You can rough me up even, hm?" she purred.

The cigarette burned down to the filter in three savage drags of his. He crushed it out in the ashtray with a shaking hand, throat working on a thick gulp. His cock throbbed in her grip, one more stroke away from exploding.

He was already on the edge, ready to burst. 

"What do you say? Won't you play with this doll?" She tilted her head, as if she were teasing a kid.

"Enough!" He blurted, firm and serious, brows creased. His one hand slid under and gripped her wrist, pulling it out and pushing it away from him. 

I ain't the dead Cypher. This is my body, like hell I'll let her have her way with it. 

"I see what you're pulling. You're just waiting for me to slip so you can holler crime and get Judy to kick me out," he damn near shouted right in her face, tapping his own temples with a finger. "Yeah, might be a gonk, but I ain't a brainless monkey."

But there was no denying the state of his body. He got up and ran towards the bathroom, never noticing the shadow in the bedroom door, because he really was on the edge of shooting one out. But he was happy that he controlled it, or else he'd have lived with the guilt of allowing someone like Maiko to play him like a fool. 

When he returned to the living room, Maiko wasn't there. And with his brain somewhat unloaded, he just wrapped himself in the blanket and fell asleep on the couch.

####

It was a very pleasant dream. Back when he was younger, when Borko was a puppy, when he played with his brother, mom and dad watching. Back when there were no worries, no fears, no panic attacks. 

Cypher missed home. He'd died with just a video message left for them. He hoped nothing bad happened to them after what he did. The media might have troubled them, but considering the world's hatred towards corporations and the ultra-rich, he reckoned normal people wouldn't trouble them. 

He wished so deeply to know what happened. Even his dreams reflected them. 

Bam!

"Hey! Wake up!"

"Uh." Cypher groaned, eyes open, the scent of Judy's apartment reminding him quickly of his new reality. Without getting up, he turned on the couch and found Maiko standing close by, dressed in her work attire, all dolled up. 

"Had my fill of gutter junkies like you. No upside, only trouble. Keep Judy clean of your mess, or I'll make a call. I know people."

Cypher, still sleepy, lazily yawned. "You do? How many?”

"A lot."

"Well, give them my regards," he said and turned again, going back to sleep. 

"..."

Judy's laughter followed, and then Maiko's frustrated thump of heels. He didn't see anything, trying to sleep, but he heard the door open and Judy saying bye to her partner. 

Bam!

Yet again, he felt a soft kick on his butt. Once again, he turned with a groan to look up at Judy. But he didn't have to say anything as she dangled his DL-18 blaster pistol in front of him. 

"Where did you get this?"

"Huh?" He sat up, happy that it didn't fall to the raffens. 

"Thing spits plasma, Cyph." Judy shot him a hard glare, fingers tracing the weapon’s grip. "Melts clean through steel. Tech like this? It’s a ghost. Not even 'Saka or Militech have this kind of hardware on the books."

"No kidding, there aren't any. I cooked this up."

"You made this?" She fired back, in total disbelief. "You're shitting me?"

Cypher sighed and got up. Hands on her shoulders, he made her take a seat instead, and then crouched down in front of her. Then he took the blaster from her hand and disassembled it, and then reassembled it faster than most could a regular gun. 

"..."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm a fucking genius," he said jokingly. "Don't overthink, trust me."

Judy stayed still for some time, alternating her focus between the blaster and Cypher's face. It took her time, but she eventually realised he wasn't kidding.

"Cypher, choom, you get what this means? If they sniff it out, you're flatlined for sure. Plasma weapons are still pure sci-fi. They prob have beams, but this puppy shoots legit bullets."

"You tried?"

"Bet your ass I did." Judy’s voice lit up like a neon sign. "Soon as that AV yanked you skyward, I snatched it. Just for shits, I put one into the raffen wagon. Blew clean through the door, Cyph. This thing’s straight-up insanity."

Cypher agreed on that. The gun was far too powerful for something of its size. But at the same time, it was his insurance for getting out of tough situations. 

"It ain't on the market, Judy. This baby's just for your boy out living feral in the Badlands. And for turning raffens into puddles of goo."

“Better that way, choom. Outta sight, outta mind. Corpos won’t lose sleep flatlining you the second it suits ‘em.” She gave his good arm a soft pat and stood up. “Anyway, get some rest, yeah? I gotta delta back to Lizzie’s.”

"I'll be back on the job tomorrow, Jude."

"Preem, I'll have the deliveries planned. Chow's in the fridge, grab what you want. And hey, mitts off my rig. Tool bench is fair game if you feel like tinkering."

Judy slung a bag over her shoulder and headed out. 

"Judy!" He called before she walked out. "Thanks."

Half out of the door, she leaned her head back in and winked at him. "I'll accept it with a decent meal."

"You got it."

Finally, with the hiss of the door closing, he was all alone in the apartment. His body told him to sleep, but his mind urged him to make the screwdriver. So, he got off the sofa, grabbed a cheese HawtDawg from the fridge, and sat down at the tool bench where some scattered items sat. 

For the first time, he felt the need for a computer. Having a design tool would have helped him and minimised his wastage. But Judy didn't want him to use her rig, so he started working blindly. 

Let's see… 

Since he lacked the specialised things needed, he started with the parts he could make right away with the junk lying there. He found a Zetatech stylus and used that as a base for the body. Even though he had no clue about some of the parts, he just knew they'd work. 

"This won't do." He stopped suddenly, frustrated. "I need parts."

But he had no money, and that was the real problem. He racked his brain, trying to find a way. Even broken parts would help, he reckoned. But he wasn't going to find them in the landfill. No, such broken parts usually sat with ripperdocs. 

"Hold on a sec, I do gotta visit one anyway."

It wasn't his paranoia, but just a fact. He wanted to get rid of any cyberware on him that could somehow touch his brain or any inner organs. The things he was making could land him in a lot of trouble, and the last thing he wanted was for a corporation to have a brain turn-off switch to blackmail him.

So, he changed his clothes into whatever Judy had grabbed from his house and headed out. Thankfully, the place he had in mind was close by. 

####

It stank. No matter where Cypher went, it was filthy. 

As he arrived at Little China, it was no different. In comparison, his home outside the city was better. The water was toxic, but the air didn't smell bad. 

"There it is!" 

He arrived at Urmland Street, mostly filled with degeneracy—bars, clubs, hotels, food stalls, dancers in glass displays. Then there was the shop he was looking for. Misty's Esoterica was written in neon above a door. It was the only door on that whole street that felt inviting due to its scents. 

What a vibe. 

As soon as he entered, other than the pleasant smell, there were so many trinkets all around. From waving cat toys to painted skulls, books, tea boxes, and bonsai plants. It was small but cozy. 

"Welcome to Misty's Esoterica. What can I do for you?"

His head turned to look at the shop counter where Misty was leaning, waving towards him with a big smile. She had an almost gothic makeup look, but not the attire. Dirty-blonde hair cut in a messy short bob. She had a spiky collar around her neck, a loose-shouldered top, and…

Big—Ugh, can't be thinking that. 

He made sure to only look up at her face and not her sizable chest. With a big smile, he walked over to the counter, but his conviction faltered. She wasn't absurdly stunning, but still pretty to look at.    

"Uh, hey. Looking for Vik, the ripperdoc. Name's Cypher. I got some cyberware in me that needs to get yanked out," he explained, taking deep breaths and letting the soothing scents calm his thoughts. 

“You’re carrying some heavy vibes, Cypher. Vik’s tied up slotting Kiroshi into another client. Chill here for a sec, let the city hum pass through you. Want me to read your tarot cards while you wait?”

With a sigh, he nodded. There wasn't anything else to do anyway. "Sure, read my cards."

"Great!" She beamed a big, pretty smile. "Focus on the recent past and what you want from the future."

Cypher did just that. He thought of dying, then rebirth, then killing raffens, his invention, his addiction, and how he wanted to get rich and be debt-free. 

"The Hermit," Misty whispered, placing the card on the table. “Feels like you are pulling away on purpose, isolating, maybe in your head or in your space. You want a break from the noise. You want things lined up the way you like them.”

"The Magician." She placed the second card. "Sharp and wise, you will face hurdles, but you are confident in facing them, adapting with sheer intellect and will. Even when all roads seem closed, you will always have one last trick to remain in control of your own destiny."

“The King of Wands. People will gather around you. They will see you as a guide and a friend. But trouble tags along too. But the King of Wands is an impulsive, devastating force of nature, capable of breaking oaths and crossing any line just to achieve their goals."

"..."

"The Sun." She pulled the last card. "Through many hardships, you will still succeed. A bright future lies ahead of greatness and splendor. So exciting, Cypher. These are the most interesting cards I’ve pulled in months."

Cypher scratched his head because some of it made sense, and some of it felt like bullshit. He honestly didn't know if Misty had some sort of supernatural ability, but she sure was great at selling it. 

Chuckling, he looked at his own reflection on a nearby surface. So thin, baggy eyes, a face that had been abused by the owner. He saw no greatness and splendor awaiting him. But her words were sweet. 

"Thanks, Misty." He said and walked over to the side to take a seat. Sadly, he could see her fishnet stocking-covered legs from there, and that didn't help. 

The brick returns. 

As he relaxed on the comfy seat, he thought of something and decided to shoot his shot. There was no point in holding back or being worried about consequences. What could be worse than being hunted by raffens and being under back-breaking debt? 

"Have you eaten, Misty?" he asked since it was nearing lunchtime. "I'm starving. Care to join your best card pulled in months?"

Misty let out a soft laugh and glanced at the clock. "Yeah, I can do that. Vik won't see you before he grabs a bite anyway. Lemme just order something. I hate going to the market here. Too loud and everything feels grimy."

"Couldn't agree more." 

He waited, and once Misty had ordered whatever they were going to eat, she took the second reclining chair beside him and relaxed. 

"How long have you been running this shop, Misty?" he asked. "I’m digging the vibe. You got soundproofing in here? Inside and outside don’t even feel like the same world."

"Yeah, I opened this place a few years ago. My parents went back to Poland, but I just... I couldn’t leave Night City. It’s home. I grew up here, and found my heart pulled toward spiritualism. I kept feeling like someone had to make a spot where people could look inward. I wanted to be that someone... even if it sounds a little silly."

Cypher felt guilty for having those filthy thoughts about her. He turned his head and looked at her, finding her staring at the ceiling, smiling happily. Seeing that, he did the same and closed his eyes. 

There was indeed some peace to be found in that little shop. A familiar face he knew he could trust not to fuck him over. A familiar voice that should've never been real but was now his reality. 

"I don't know about others, but I sure find the place soothing. Night City just ain't it for me. Gunshots pop off, noise everywhere, and everything's loud and shiny like it's trying way too hard," he said, pondering over what he felt. 

"Where do you live?" Misty asked. 

"Not in the city. I stay out past all that noise. You know Lake Farm? By the dam? Yeah, I’m tucked right beside that reservoir in this pretty little lakehouse. Nobody out there but me. Gets all quiet and breezy." 

"Isn't the lake toxic?"

"It is, but I ain't about to dive into all that. My job's just checking the toxicity, nothing wild. You should come over one of these days, it'd calm your nerves. We could hop on a boat in the reservoir; it's safe enough."

Misty sat up straight and looked at him. "Really? I'd love that. I'll think about it."

And right then, a knock came on the door. The food had finally arrived. 

Cypher made some more small talk with Misty, just getting to know her more, about her childhood. She was very open about it. But he couldn't do the same. He only told her about raffens and the Trauma Team incident recently. 

By the time they finished lunch and he paid for it, Misty received a call from Vik downstairs that he was free to see the next client. 

"See you around, Misty." He waved at the spiritual lady and walked out of the back of the shop. 

Crossing the alley, he went downstairs, opened the gate, and then slid open the accordion gate. Right there by the table sat the middle-aged doctor, wearing shades and a stethoscope over his shoulders, his one hand covered in surgery-specific equipment, a screen nearby playing a boxing match. 

"Fresh face in my clinic, huh? Gotta admit, I was ready to turn you away. But Misty swore you gave off the right kind of energy." Viktor got up, an arm extended. "Welcome to my corner of the city. Viktor Vektor. So, what brings you in?"

Well, of course, the man wasn't friendly, Cypher thought. They were meeting for the first time, and it being Watson, he reckoned Vik received plenty of new faces, many not so amicable. But more than that, he looked around at the shop and noticed how huge it was. He saw a lot of big boxes. 

"Name's Cypher Blackwell. Think you can rip out all the cyberware that needs an active net connection? Anything folks can hack or jack into, I want it gone."

There was silence for some time. An understandable one, because most folks go to a ripperdoc to get chipped. Or maybe get something fixed. And Cypher didn't have much going on to begin with. He only had a neural link connected to his brain and some shard slots on his neck. But even that was enough to fry him in the worst-case scenario. 

"Ah, one of those? From what I can tell, it's just your neural link. Bare-bones stuff every street kid slots in by puberty. How you planning to grind through daily ops without it?"

"I don't know. Maybe I can snag one of those glasses with the augmented reality screens. Should be enough for texting, calling, and banking. That's all I need," he explained, and added more to erase any misunderstanding. "I ain't a monk or anything. I've just been in some stuff where I know some powerful people would kill to poke around inside my head."

Vik's brow visibly rose behind his glasses. But he didn't say anything about it. "Alright, nothing tricky here. Few minutes and that implant’s out. The neck ports will need a couple of days to knit clean. Same for that personal link on your wrist."

"Great, let's do it."

It was going to be troublesome, Cypher knew it. But Judy's warning had reminded him of reality. In the world of Cyberpunk, anything could be hacked. Sure, he'd one day chrome up again, might even go extreme, but that'll be with stuff he can fully trust.

On the bench, he relaxed as Vik applied some local anesthesia and started working on his body. He watched everything with care and felt surprised by how easily he understood some of the tech. He knew how to make the exo-glove Vik was wearing by just looking. 

Weird, I don't remember the dead Cypher being a techie. 

Between the noises of machines, he looked around. Vik's shop was huge, and much of it wasn't even in use. It expanded far into the back, all the way to the twin sliding doors that held another large storage room. There was also room for private storage where he could see the shine of boxing trophies. 

Misty's gotta be loaded. How'd she own this much space? 

He knew that Vik rented the basement from Misty. The real question was, how did Misty get it? She was barely twenty-five. 

How do I break the ice without sounding crazy? 

His second goal was to get trash from Vik. Any discarded cyberware too damaged to be repaired. He wanted anything he could use to make the screwdriver. 

It took Vik about thirty minutes to finish everything. From cutting to patching, using whatever modern things Night City offered. Finally, the handsome doctor moved his chair back. "All set. Welcome to the land of ganics."

"Hah, not for long, doc. I know I’ll end up getting chipped again someday."

"You could slot in some bioware. No need for ports or links. Skin weave’s a solid pick, but it all comes down to what kinda gigs you’re running. If you’re not a merc, you’ll be just fine," Vik said, rolling his chair back to his desk. "Total’s three hundred eddies. Pills come with it."

It wasn't expensive. But it wasn't cheap for him either. Still, he could afford that much. The real issue was how he was going to pay because he had no interface to work with yet. 

"You got any of those glasses I was talking about, Vik?"

"Huh, nothing on hand right now. But I can scope the market. Old school tech, sure, but it still floats around. Won’t bleed your eddies too hard. For now, you're stuck running it off a terminal or a regular rig." He jabbed a thumb at his screen. "Got one in the back you can use to hit your bank."

Nodding, he got off the bench and walked towards the screens just around the corner. He dragged a chair there and started tapping on the screen to access his bank. He was deliberately slow, eyeing all the tech around. All the trash, actually. 

"Hey, Vik." 

"Yeah?"

"So, do you have any cyberware that's too wrecked to bother fixing and you're just gonna dump it? If so, mind if I take it off your hands? I'm working on some stuff."

After a brief silence, Vik's chair rolled audibly, and the man came into his direct view. Vik stared at him for some time, as if trying to gauge his true intention. 

"I can pay for it if you want m—"

"Take it, no price. Was gonna chuck it anyway."

"Just like that?" Cypher asked back. "I figured you were gonna shut me down."

Vik let out a low chuckle and rolled back to his rig, only his voice floating out. "Was gonna, but as Misty said, you gave off a vibe. Your face says you’re carrying a story, same as every soul scraping by in Night City. If some trash can nudge that story along, then yeah, why not?"

Cypher digested Vik's words. He was ready to beg and plead if he had to, but it never reached that point. It was a boon that he knew who he could trust in Night City. Because people like Vik were rarer than a good corpos. 

"Thanks. I'll fix your expensive cyberware for almost free later." He offered, but got no response back. Nobody was going to believe a guy looking like him could tinker with high-value cyberware. 

But to prove him wrong, he had to make the Sonic Screwdriver first. He quickly paid Vik the three hundred eddies and grabbed the two boxes full of broken cyberware that either had missing parts or were too damaged. 

After that, he bid Misty goodbye and headed home. Instead of the Metro, he took a pre-paid cheap taxi since he had those heavy boxes. 

As soon as he arrived home, he got to work. 

He laid out all the parts, all the trash, and grabbed whatever he needed to add to that screwdriver. About eighty percent of the things needed for the device had to be invented by him, as no equivalent existed. 

He fused an old, broken Trauma Team diagnostic diode into the tip for scanning capability. It was no longer the same thing, however, as he'd used the diode to make something new. As he progressed, he felt something more. 

His understanding of the device and tech in general got better. As if his mind was becoming unclouded. Each hour he learned something more. He grabbed things and knew what they were and how they worked. 

Slowly, as the Sonic Screwdriver started to take shape, it overloaded twice, sputtering out blue sparks until he rewired the power flow through a broken and reworked Kiroshi glare suppressor and patched capacitor. 

Ugh, dammit, Judy. 

In the end, he had to stop because the housing of the screwdriver refused to seal. The vibration motor kept throwing the alignment off. To fix that, he needed to make a custom design with a 3D printer, and it was a part of Judy's rig. 

The unsettling tingling itch in his brain was already half gone. He knew he was on the right path. On the verge of building something revolutionary. Something worth billions. 

Wait a sec…

Sitting on the floor between all that cyberware trash, he realized something. 

What if I sell scaled-down parts of the stuff I'm making? 

He believed that the fire-control unit he placed in his DL-18 blaster, the cooling shroud as well, was far superior to anything out there. Even if he nerfed them significantly, they'd be better than anything out. Even for a five percent improvement from what existed, companies would line up to buy it. 

The same was the case for his Sonic Screwdriver. The scanning capabilities of the little thing exceeded anything out there by countless times. Even a fraction of it could be worth a fortune. 

But of course, the big issue was that the world of Cyberpunk no longer ran on the rule of law. It ran on the law of who had the bigger stick. Companies would rather 'take' it from him than pay for it. 

I can't sell this myself. I can barely make one. Patents then? 

It felt like a genuinely doable thing. As long as he allowed companies to use his patents for a reasonable price, he'd have the funds to get his life sorted. It would leave a bad taste in his mouth for sure, but beggars can't be choosers. At least not at that stage. 

The risk is also low. 

His blaster and Sonic Screwdriver would stay hidden. And it would also put his name out for being a techie? He didn't know if that was a good thing in the long run, but he needed people to believe in his skill for him to earn from the Sonic Screwdriver. 

Selling BDs wasn't going to work in the long run. His 'donated' collection would soon become old news. He really needed an alternate way of making money. 

"Better do some research then."

So, he put everything away in boxes since he needed to ask Judy to use the printer. He sat down in front of the terminal screen and searched the net on how to register a company, how to file patents, and how to take care of all the business stuff. 

####

Judy wasn't so heartless after all. So what if he had baggy eyes? She melted to his puppy eyes all the same. She did shout a little because she couldn't contact him all day as he'd removed his neural link. But when he explained, she agreed with the decision. 

Maiko didn't mess around that night either, so Cypher spent all night at Judy's gorgeous rig. The entire room was like a nerd's dream, so many screens, so many devices, and the 3D printer was big and powerful. 

With ease, he printed the Sonic Screwdriver's body and put it together for good. He tightened the last screw, feeling the hum steady. The only thing he couldn't fully make was the thermal core that powered the tool. It was simply too advanced for him to make with what he had. Instead, he had tinkered a bit with what he learned from DL-18 Blaster. 

Currently, his Sonic Screwdriver could work for a day or two before needing to be recharged. On heavy use, it'd last just a few hours. Sad, but he had to settle for it. At least he knew how to make the main energy core later on. 

And that itch was also gone from his head. At last, he felt at ease. His hands itched, however, to go out and test the Sonic Screwdriver. But it was nighttime, and Watson wasn't a good place to hang around at night. 

In the morning for sure. 

####

It was a busy day, sadly. As soon as he woke up, Judy dragged him along to Lizzy's. Since he didn't have his motorbike, he had to use her van to make the deliveries, and fuck, there were so many. 

From morning till night, he ran across Night City, throwing BDs under the doors. A total of sixty-eight orders had been received. When he finally returned, Rita dragged him inside the bar to buy him a drink and also hear the story of his gunfight with raffens. 

Honestly, it was something to boast about. And she looked impressed. She did curse the Trauma Team for his debt, however. The chick was real fire. 

Finally, after drinking with Rita, he got some free, alone time. Judy was busy editing BDs in the basement, and he had all the time he needed. He went out of the bar and walked across the street to a bunch of vending machines. 

Strategically, he hid his Sonic Screwdriver inside his sleeve and acted like he was pressing the buttons. But in reality, he used the screwdriver. 

Clack!

Instantly, a fine Burrito XXL came out of the machine. 

F-Fuck yeah! Free food for life!

He wasn't dumb enough to do that again there and walked towards the intersection. A few people were walking by, mostly the wrong sort, as it was so late. Sneakily, he raised his hand towards a random punk-type guy not far, just two or three meters away. 

"Aaaaargh! My eye! What's happening! I-It… Hurts…!"

Instantly, the punk fell down on the footpath, writhing in pain, clutching his head. 

That's… sweet! 

Cypher personally didn't know what he'd done to the man. He only wanted to glitch the eye a little bit. This was different from hacking, however, as he was directly interfering with systems without any software. This was a pure atomic trick.

He stopped testing on the poor guy and headed back towards the bar, wanting to try fixing some broken gadgets in Judy's workplace. That was going to be his bread-winner, after all. The ability to fix devices.

Just strolling through the big open lot, straight towards the bar's door, he eyed the homeless camp just around the corner. A lot of people lived there; he'd seen many. But that night as he walked, he noticed a kid, around ten maybe, staring at him. 

What stood out was the cybernetic left arm and left leg the boy had. Disheveled, dirty blonde hair, depressed eyes, and marks of lost facial cyberware were there. 

Cypher stopped in his tracks, a bit speechless. He'd never seen a kid with that much chrome yet. 

He stayed there, exchanging glances with the boy. Then the boy turned around and disappeared, as if responding to someone's call. Cypher stayed, however, lost in his thoughts because the damn itch he'd painstakingly removed had returned. 

This has got to be coming from somewhere. This ain't natural. 

Just as the last time, he got a quick glimpse. An image, a name, and what it was. A large four-legged robot, he realised, one based around combat and… jumping?

Arc? A Leaper? What's that… huh?