Cyberpunk: 2075

"Boss, hold onto our stuff—we'll be back to pick it up."

Carl spoke calmly as he walked toward the door. He had no idea what was happening outside, but Oliver's car was parked just down the street, and he needed to make sure it wasn't wrecked.

If the car got totaled, they'd have to haul all their stuff back on foot—which was not an ideal situation.

Looking through the shattered storefront window, Carl scanned the chaos unfolding outside.

The street had descended into pure mayhem.

In the middle of the road, a burly, blond-haired guy wearing aviators stood his ground, wielding a Militech MK.31 Heavy Machine Gun, ripping into a cargo truck that had been forced to stop in the street.

Closer to Carl's position, two familiar corpses lay on the sidewalk—the same masked robbers from earlier.

Their lifeless bodies were riddled with bullet holes, eurodollars scattered around them.

Clearly, these dumbasses had walked into the wrong fight at the wrong time—completely unlucky collateral damage in whatever the hell this shootout was.

"The hell is going on?"

Jackie, now standing beside Carl, peeked out as well.

The moment he saw what was happening, his expression shifted—and he quickly ducked back behind cover.

"Shit. A fucking heavy machine gun? What the hell kind of mess is this?"

Then—

"MY CAR!!"

Oliver's voice cracked as he caught sight of his beloved vehicle outside.

Right there on the driver's side door—

A fresh bullet dent.

The impact wasn't too bad, but it was obvious that a stray round had pinged off the bodywork.

And that?

That was enough to send Oliver into a silent rage.

"That was a birthday gift from my sister!"

"So… what's the move?"

Carl tightened his grip on his weapons, his left hand casually resting on a grenade he had swiped from the Maelstrom hideout earlier.

"Should we just wipe both sides out?"

If any assholes out there were wearing subdermal armor, a grenade would do the trick.

Plus, Jackie was still carrying that big-ass Crusher shotgun—so they weren't exactly underarmed.

"Damn, dude. You're jumping straight to murder?"

Oliver, despite fuming over his car, wasn't about to start a full-blown firefight over a dented door.

Those heavily armed guys out there?

They weren't to be messed with—and Oliver wasn't about to throw his life away over it.

"Relax, man. That guy's got a heavy machine gun—let's not start shit we don't need to."

"Am I really being too aggressive?"

Carl wasn't so sure.

Compared to some of the psychos in Night City, his instinct to shoot first was almost conservative.

Hell, he wasn't even suggesting wiping out their families—which, by Night City standards, was practically merciful.

"Who the fuck are these guys?"

The shootout between the machine gunner and the truck defenders was wrapping up faster than expected.

A group of newcomers had flanked the truck from behind.

Leading the charge was a black-haired guy sporting a mohawk, gripping a Constitution Arms Copperhead SMG—raking gunfire across the defenders.

Beside him?

A short-statured, pale-skinned girl with twin neon-green pigtails, holding a pink M-76e Omaha smart pistol.

With just a few well-placed shots, they dropped the last of the truck guards in seconds.

"Mann!!"

The green-haired girl waved to the machine gunner, signaling that the coast was clear.

"All done here!"

"Rebecca!"

The blond dude, apparently named Mann, acknowledged her, then turned to the mohawked guy.

"Pilar! Grab the goods and let's get the hell out of here!"

"On it!"

"Mercs, just like us."

Jackie watched as the three newcomers moved efficiently, wasting zero time looting the cargo.

"They're mercs."

Same as them.

Which meant—this had nothing to do with them.

Carl sighed, losing interest.

"Alright, nothing worth watching. Let's grab our shit."

He turned away, heading back inside to pick up his BDs and headset.

"Want to fix up your car first, Oliver?"

"Nah, I can patch up the dent myself later. Let's just check out the apartments first."

As Carl and Oliver wrapped up their conversation and packed up their newly purchased braindances, the BD shop owner rushed out the door, scooping up the scattered eurodollars lying near the bodies outside.

"Shit, this is all my money anyway—I'm taking it back."

Meanwhile, Carl and Jackie squeezed back into the passenger seat, and Oliver started the engine, pulling away from the shop.

At the same time, Mann's crew of mercs—who had seemingly retrieved whatever they were after from the cargo truck—were also gearing up to leave.

As Oliver drove past the crime scene, their vehicle briefly passed by the truck, where Mann stood.

Mann glanced at their car for a moment but didn't seem to care.

However, Carl took an extra second to study the man from the passenger seat.

That guy's subdermal armor must be no joke, being able to stand in the middle of a street firefight for that long.

The thought flashed through his mind before vanishing just as quickly—a small detail not worth dwelling on.

Moving In

The rest of the ride to the Megabuilding was uneventful.

They easily contacted the apartment manager and got started on lease negotiations.

Megabuildings were corporate-owned properties, and the apartment managers were nothing more than corporate employees—but when it came to money, they were just as cutthroat as any greedy landlord.

After signing a mountain of paperwork and sitting through a bunch of corporate disclaimers, Oliver and Carl officially rented their apartments for 1,000 eddies per month.

Oliver originally wanted to rent an apartment right next to Carl, but there was only one unit left on the fourth floor, so he settled for living one floor above him on the fifth.

Basic Amenities... With a Catch

The apartments came fully furnished, which sounded great—

Until they read the fine print.

Private landline? 10 eddies upfront + 0.75 eddies per minute.Television? 50 eddies deposit + 1 eddie per hour of usage.Oh, and there's a vending machine inside the damn apartment.

"These corpos really figured out how to squeeze every last eddie out of people, huh?"

Carl walked over to the vending machine, reluctantly swiping 15 eddies for three cans of Tiny Coca-Cola.

He tossed one to Jackie and one to Oliver, keeping the last one for himself.

He didn't even like Tiny Coke—but for some bullshit reason, this vending machine only stocked this specific brand.

Guess he'd just have to deal with the overly sweet, tooth-coating drink.

Settling In

Jackie collapsed onto the couch, stretching out.

"Not bad, mano. How's the place feel?"

Carl shrugged, taking a sip of his drink.

"It's livable."

Oliver raised a brow at his lack of enthusiasm.

"That's it? Just 'livable'?"

He hadn't checked out his own unit yet, but since their apartments were identical, Carl's reaction spoke volumes.

"Dude, I've never lived in anything better than this since I moved out at eighteen."

Carl glanced at him, unimpressed.

"And how old are you?"

"Twenty-four. You literally asked me this the first day we met."

"Oh. Right. I forgot."

Carl rolled his eyes. Six whole years, and this was the best place Oliver had managed to afford?

Damn. That's rough.

Carl, on the other hand, had been in Night City for less than 48 hours—and was already living in a Megabuilding apartment.

Nothing to be proud of, really—just the reality of things.

A New Chapter Begins

Carl leaned against the counter, watching Jackie and Oliver lounge around like lazy fucks on his couch.

He took another sip of his sickly-sweet soda, savoring the start of his new life in Night City.

"Glug—"

He winced at the overwhelming sugar.

"Goddamn, that's sweet."