Some Warpunk in Cybercraft! [Fanfiction]

 

I found a Wall. Blocks worth of the city walled off.

Arasaka territory. Perhaps the biggest gang in Night City, from a certain point of view.

Not ready to mess with them yet. Though raiding Corporations for fun and profit does sound exciting, doesn't it?

One Day.

For now, I'll have to be content with smaller game.

I did find the Totentanz. Very Loud. Definitively looked like a place for Death Metal concerts. Haha, Death Metal. Borged up Psychos.

Lots of Maelstrom, too many for now. Let's skip it.

Come with my own gang later. Tree gang represent. Or would that be Nature gang? I'll figure it out later.

Large gatherings of more ordinary looking people milled about in this area. Normal by 2074 standards anyway. I couldn't understand wanting to be around the Maelstrom.

Driving on, I felt a sense of futility. I really was starting to hate this city. I think it wanted me to. Like it thrived off pain.

There's a thought. A Cursed City feasting off blood, pain and death.

And I was about to feed it more.

I spied a couple of more isolated groups of gangers over by Megabuilding 12.

As good a place as any for my hunting grounds.

I circled around and parked by a clothing store, Ded Zed. While there were cars in the lot the store itself was closed. Good.

Time to be a bit more cautious, I'd rather not get surrounded again.

Trying to be stealthy likely wouldn't work for me. But I could be a distraction for the Probes to make their moves.

So weapon ready. Eyes open. Let's bag some gangers.

 

The first group of five chromeheads right by the Megabuilding itself was getting ready to head some where else. They were gathering things up and trying to put out the fire they had been cooking something over.

Scuff hovering well over their heads, zapped one then another. Fix came in low zapping feet. I fired a few rounds, trying to do my part.

Our first volley, did a lot of damage. But they still had some fight left in them. One had a machete and only seeing me charged, the other two still standing started firing at me one with a shotgun the other with some kind of automatic rifle.

"Shit!"

I when down hard. At first I didn't feel anything. It's like my body didn't believe what happened.

The only good thing out of it, was in my reflexive spasm, I pulled the trigger. This dropped the machete wielding asshole long enough for Fix to zap him into the next life.

Scuff was finishing off the 'Strom with the rifle.

The last guy tried to run, but the Probes tag teamed him.

I was fervently attempting to cast regrowth, I fumbled a few times as the throbbing burning pain set in.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck..." Finally, I managed to get the shape right and mana to flow. I channeled the spell to get as close to healthy as possible.

I dropped the spell again. My concentration was nil. Curses flowing from my mouth as I tried to get the spell shape right for the tenth time.

Scuff beeped, "Executor more Enemies approach. Orders?"

"Damn it, ambush them, shit, while I, fuck, finish up here." I got the spell going and felt the mana drain more intensely now.

"By your Command." Both beeped in unison.

As I was dredging up more mana from the thin air, I heard the sounds of battle.

I felt even shitter for having to rely on the Probes so much.

I dared to check myself over. No wonder I fell down, I got hit by both gangoons. I guess nothing too vital got wrecked.

The pain was dying down. I felt around the wounds, skin was once again all nice and smooth. Still tender, but nicer than being dead.

The ruckus in the distance was getting louder. What was going on?

Okay, I required some armor, and maybe staying further back would be a great idea. Shoot the guys panicked into running by being zapped by something they couldn't see.

It became more and more obvious, I knew nothing about combat. Learning it the hard way, not so fun.

 

I stood up, my clothes were ruined. Rapidly drying blood covered my entire front.

I tested my movement. No hitches or cramps or pulls. I seemed to be able to bend every which way. Legs held my weight.

Alright functional if not optimal.

I decided to let Scuff and Fix handle the fighting for a moment while I looted. Sounded like they had it covered.

Pulling the backpack off was a struggle. It didn't get hit but I guess some of the cola cans ruptured when I dropped. Ah, too bad.

The chips seem unaffected and the revolver could be cleaned later.

So I dumped the colas. Dried the pack out as best I could with a shirt scavenged from the retired Maelstromers.

I didn't drop my Omaha the whole time, awkward but necessary.

The sounds of fighting were moving further away. I guess I was going to be looting the aftermath.

 

An hour later, both the trunk and backseat of the Galena were full. $9000 in cash, 31 chips, a dozen more inhalers and various odds and ends that might be worth something.

Fix and Scuff were dancing around in celebration. I let them they'd earned it.

Bastards didn't even get scratched. Were the Maelstrom that bad, or were my Probes that awesome?

I managed to scrounge together an outfit, from the 32 dead Stromers. It didn't look too bad, blue collar rather than death metal video extra.

I threw my robe into the back seat too. No holes in it just bloody as hell.

Now if I could just get some mechanics overalls. I'd look like I did back home most of the time.

I was exhausted.

Let's go sell some loot before finding a hotel to zonk out for a while.