Chapter 1: A Brave New World

  “AAAAHHHHH!”

  A young man bolted upright in his bed, out of breath and dripping with sweat. He looked around with pani his eyes and took in his surroundings seeing a small, dingy apartment. Only, this is no kind of apartment he’s ever seen before. At least, not in real life. fused, he took a moment to gather his thoughts. The st thing he remembered was…

  “FUCK YOU TRUCK-KUN! GODDAMMIT! WHY CYBERPUNK!?”

  Shaking from his near… no, his actual death experiehe man fell backwards into his bed only to be embraced by a wet sp and his unfortably cold soaked sheets.

  “Well fuck.”

  With his mind rag and his bed currently unusable, he decided to take a long hot shower to clear his head and his “new” body. Walking through the door to his bathroom, he went straight to the shower pletely ign the mirror as he passed.

  ‘Of course the water pressure is shit and the temp is only slightly warm… fug half assed post apocalyptic megablocks.’

  With a long sigh, he cursed his new life again as the shower cut off and informed him he had used his allotted ration of water for the day. He was still hoping this was some sort of terrible dream, but as a chill started to creep into his body he rubbed his left wrist feeling where a personal link was installed and could only accept this as his new reality.

  Stepping out of the shower, he finally looked at himself in the mirror as he dried off. He looked much like he did in his old life before that bastard bsted a truck through his old living room: shaggy brown hair, hazel eyes that looked mostly green with a light br around the pupil, and about 6’ give or take an inch or two. His face looked roughly the same as before, only more refined. He still reized himself in the refle, but with this new face he could have been a model in his old life. He wasn’t ugly before, but now there was an undeniable allure to his sharpened features.

  ‘Well, at least I’m hot now… gono work out again though. This body is way too sy. I wonder if I got a system or something from whatever R.O.B. threw me into this hellhole”

  Just as he was finishing that thought, an envelope iade itself known in the lower left of his peripheral vision along with a familiar audible chime.

  ‘Guess I already have some e: basic optid cyberaudio suite, neural ports, personal link, and an internal agent. All the essentials…’

  Using his interface was surprisingly intuitive. A sihought had pulled up his messages, both new and old. Scrolling through them, he learned a bit about the life he had been thrown into. His name was now Calvin Hobbs, Cal for short, and it looked like he was a young-ish Streetkid out on his own making his creds doing courier jobs for a few fixers and boosting cars on the side.

  ‘Really? Calvin Hobbs? This is all just some kind of joke, right?’

  Almost as soon as the thought crossed is mind, the most ret message in his inbox caught his attention:

  NO! This isn’t a joke! (mostly…) Wele to your new life, traveler!

  ‘Man, fuck you. Couldn’t you have waited for me to actually die?’ Cal couldn’t help but think, interrupting his reading in his frustration.

  NO! I couldn’t wait! Also, Truck-kun has a backlog and doesn’t accept much dire SO HERE WE ARE!

  ‘Fuck you both. Twice. With a crooked stick. Bark and all…’

  This world may be incredibly corrupt, ily dangerous, and highly irradiated, but FRET NOT! For, like you have already guessed, in my benevolence I have seen fit to grant you a UNIQUE ABILITY to increase your odds of survival in this hell-WONDERFUL WORLD FULL OF BOUNDLESS OPPORTUNITY!!! You are now the ONLY living Teopath! The perfect ability for your new life! o worry about your cyberware being hacked or the looming threat of cyberpsychosis when you have instinctual trol over any teology with nothing but your very own mind! But watch out! Many will covet your power should they discover it!

  (his is a growth ability that you will o train and develop. It will start out as purely touch based.)

  Well, that’s enough outta me! GOOD LUCK!

  Yours truly,

  ROB

  (P.S. Put on a good show, will you?)

  ‘hat a dick. Does he think all the excmation marks would psych me up or something? And really? ROB? A little in the nose, don’t you think? At least teopathy is a pretty broken skill for this world. Though, I kinda wished I got a gamer system so I could just kill my way to absurd levels of power. Wait, aren’t all rueopaths to a degree? This is giving me a headache already…’

  Cal made his way over to the couch after getting dressed in a worn t-shirt and a pair of sants that felt nothing like cotton. They were both clearly syid g to him in all the wrong ways. The disade him wish he’d dried off better befetting dressed. The problem there was his towels that felt like the rough cheap kind you would find ying out at gyms or public showers, only these ones were even less absorbent somehow.

  ‘Even the fabri this world suck…’

  He didn’t spend much time menting his death or w about all the loved ones he left behind. Truthfully, Cal, and his niame was Cal in his old life too, didn’t really have much going for him before his untimely meeting with the grill of a truck. He wasn’t really close to his dad or sister, having mostly fallen out of touch after his mother’s death, and any of the close friends he once had either moved away or started their own families at this point in life. They would all still talk and py games online occasionally, but the distaween them had only growhe years.

  Cal groaned again, closing his eyes and rubbing his temples to calm his nerves as he took everything in. Walking across the apartment, he colpsed into the cou his sunken lounge and surveyed the room. His apartment was virtually identical to V’s from the game, and he was holy thankful for that shred of familiarity. It sure as hell beat waking up in a pile of trash or on a scav ripper’s table.

  After calming down a bit, he looked through his HUD again to take at of his situation. It ril 12th, 2071 and he had just turned 18 st month acc to the personal information he mao access. He found that he had €7,352 in his at and another €893 on a data shard, for more discreet purchases. It seemed like the old Cal wasn’t at risk of evi or starvation, so that was good, but he could easily run through those eddies in the month just living in Night City.

  He was initially worried about not having any memories from this body, but after reading through all his messages, it didn’t look like that would be an issue. If he had family, they were either estranged or dead, kinda like his old life. The same could be said for any friends he might have had with only a few messages here and there bugging him to e joi “X” corp or “Y” gang, more recruitment pitches than friendly messages.

  ‘Fuck that noise. Corps and gangs would just use me up until I’m useless or dead.’

  It looked like this Cal spent most of his time as a runner for Dexter Deshawn in City ter, with the occasional car theft for Muamar Reyes, aka El Capitán, to pad his figurative wallet. Pretty stable work in a pce like Night City, and not all that dangerous all things sidered. Though, he had a few messages warning him to sting in cars with “too many bullet holes in them.”

  ‘Right, because a few bullet holes are just fine. pletely normal…’ *Ugh*

  Distracted by his empty grumbling stomach, Cal got up and walked over to the vending mae to peruse his choices of food. It was kinda weird not having anything close to a kit in his apartment, but sidering the long list of goods you could buy through the mae, it didn’t seem to be that much of an issue. You could order just about anything from the thing, from bandages and snacks to prostitutes and hard drugs.

  ‘Fug Night City. It’s crazy how much shit you buy from this thing. Too bad the food is all either SCOP, synth, or soy. I hought I’d actually be gd to see soy products…’

  He was about to pay for an XL Burrito and some soy milk, when he realized this was a det opportunity to test his teopathy. He had likely been using it to interface with his cyberware, but that felt pretty intuitive. It was natural for him now; almost unnoticeable.

  He o test and develop this new ability. This was his one major advahat could help him bee a force to be reed with in this megacorp hellscape.

  Cal pced his hand on the vending mae and closed his eyes. It was strange… He could FEEL how the thing worked.

  His senses quickly spread out from his hand and spread through the entire system, making it feel more like aension of himself when he trated. There was aire system of veyor belts and lifts that would stock each mae with on items and non-perishables for immediate dispensing, delivering the oods from a ste area on floor 25, the middle floor of the building. There was also a sedary system that would process orders for various businesses around the city for them to deliver specialty items or services directly to your door.

  “Pretty ve even if it’s a little gaudy.”

  While he could see the whole system, he felt a resistao his attempts to trol anything other than the vending mae he was in physical tact with. The e was there, but it felt small and fragile. With the smallest tug the e would just break.

  ‘Well that’s disappointing… Looks like I'll o spend a lot of time practig this.’

  Cal was a bit underwhelmed with his gifted ability. He had to literally die ahrown into an apocalyptic hellhole to get it and the damn thing didn’t seem to be much better than a basic cyberdeck.

  Looking through the iory of the vending mae, It was more than a little discerting that many of the on food choices fell into the “non-perishable” category, but he decided not to dwell on that too much. A man’s gotta eat after all.

  He could have just had the mae spit out a burrito for him, but he khat would raise a fg warning the administrators of possible tampering or a defective mae. If he mao stop those arms and someoill noticed? He was smart enough to realize that would be extra bad.

  Cal was already developing a migraine from this whole ordeal so instead to figure out a way to cheat a free meal, he just ponied up the 80 eddies for an XL Burrito and a carton of soy milk.

  Uning the lukewarm burrito, Cal leaned in to smell his “food” before he took a tentative bite. After getting over the mental hurdle regarding the undefined position of his meal, he stopped trying to guess what it was he was actually eating and found that it wasn’t really all that bad. It mostly just tasted like a salty old gas station burrito. He took a sip of his soy milk, finding it passable. The best thing he could say about it was that it didn’t seem to be poisonous, uhe tap water which had left his skin slightly irritated after his brief shower. It wasn’t a very satisfying meal, but he’d probably have to pay a literal arm for something that was actually nutritious or appetising.

  ping on his almost patable mystery meal, Cal fell bato his couch while he tried to calm himself and anize his thoughts. It was currently 4:41am and he was still jittery after literally dying and beio a made up sci-fi world. A world that had a very good ce of killing him again in the near future.

  ‘Money isn’t an immediate issue right now. I’m way too squishy pared to all the b’d out freaks in this city. I need a good gun, maybe some armor, but most of all I o work on uanding and developing my teopathy.’

  After finishing his burrito, Cal washed it down with the rest of the soy milk, got up and searched through his apartment for anything useful. He found a dull tanto knife, a few BDs with a braindance wreath, a broken Unity pistol that was literally held together by duct tape, and a studded leather jacket that was a size and a half too small for him. Other than a few pairs of clothes, everything else in his room was just niacks and trash that held no value to him.

  “Great… how did this kid survive on his own all this time?”

  After a full sweep of the apartment, he gathered everything he wao sell in a pile and threw the rest away. This wasn’t a game after all and a quick sear the showed him that while drop points do exist around the city, they are just that: A pce to drop items for them to be retrieved ter or transported to another location for pickup. He couldn’t just go there and offload all his junk for some eddies. This was a world ruled by erism at the end of the day. The megacorps all wanted you to junk anything you used up or didn’t need only to buy somethio repce it. Ideally something sold by them.

  ‘Well it’s gonna be a while before any stores are open and I doubt fixers are giving out jobs at this huess I have time to practice’

  ---------------------

  Seven hours. He had been “practig” his teopathy for seven hours and Cal learned absolutely nothing. trol wasn’t the issue. He had no problem ging the station on his radio or tv as long as he was toug them. Even browsing the from his terminal was like sed nature with his teopathy, but that’s where his profided.

  He had no idea how to reach out with his power and affeethiely. Simirly, he still had no trol over any devices he wasn’t directly in tact with. He could try to feel out other devices through awork he was “ected” to, but the rger the work, the more difficult it became just to locate a specific device. It was easy to lose track of the es aen found himself pletely lost or disoriented ihe work, often realizing he was retrag his steps.

  ‘Man, this ability is a lot harder to use than I thought it would be…’

  His teopathy wasn’t really his only advahough. He wasn’t sure how exactly the future would py out now that he’d been thrown into the mix, but he still had a lot of useful info about people as that could help him carve out his own little er of the city. No matter where or when you find yourself, ohing always remains true: Knowledge is Power.

  Cal started to wonder how events would unfold if he just wiped out Maman Brigitte and her little fa of runners in the Voodoo Boys. That would basically circumvent all the events he knew of from the game. Evelyn would never actually know about the relic. Jackie and T-Bug wouldn't die because there would be . V wouldn’t merge with Johnny’s engram. Yorinobu would still kill Saburo in a fit e, only now he wouldn’t have ao pin the murder on. Things would py out very differently, for better or worse.

  That train of thought led him to sider the Edgerunners anime. He wasn’t a huge fan of it, holy. He always thought Maine was an arrogant prid David wasn’t much better. The rest of their crew each had their own charms, but ultimately he didn’t really want to get involved with any of them.

  He didn’t really know how to save any of their lives without risking his own; and really, why should he? That was kinda the point of the show. Maine and his crew were a dime a dozen. Edgerunners weren’t called that for nothing. Anyone who takes on that title is suicidal, stupid, or both. They’re all bound to burn out in the end, likely in a violent and spectacur fashion.

  It was tragic, but none of their stories were all that unique. Fod's sake, the most popur bar for mer the city was called “The Afterlife” and it started out as a mue people would drink at to mourn fallen members of their crew after a job went sideways.

  Maybe Cal was just jaded and the bleak picture the show painted colored his opinions oter, but this was Night City. Altruism was dead and rotting in almost every alleyway. Cal wasn’t going to stick his neck out just to save some people he kinda knew. He didn't even have enough power to save himself. At least, not yet.

  -----------------------------

  Cal left his apartment a little after noon. After his whirlwind of a m he just wao walk around a a feel for the city he now called home, but he felt naked and exposed without any armor or a proper firearm. Thankfully his apartment was in Megabuilding H10 so after loading up everything he wao sell in his backpack, he made his way down to Wilson’s 2nd Ame gun shop.

  “What I do for you kid?” Wilson asked, looking round as ever.

  “I need some better iron, also maybe a holster and a sharpener for this knife.”

  “Damn, what's holding that piece together? Hopes and dreams?”

  Cal’s unity pistol was seriously in bad shape. The magazine didn’t really like to stay in the gun for very long, making the whole thing basically useless.

  “Yeah, it’s seeer days. Looking to trade up to a Nue if you’ve got one.”

  Wilson picked up the Unity, and racked the slide, notig the st round catch didn’t even engage.

  “I got a few you’d probably like. Hell of a step up from this pile of scrap… I’ll cut you some sd give you €110 for the Unity. It’ll be €3200 for a factory new Nue or €1,850 for one of my refurbs. I whip up a holster for it and your knife for ara €700, but I ’t help you with any sharpener. Check with Coach Fred out iraining area for that. If he doesn’t have one he point you in the right dire.”

  “Gimme the refurb and the holsters. I want a right hand cross draw holster for the nue and an ambi sheath for the knife. Also 2 extra mags and a belt rig for them if you swing it.”

  “Hmm… how about a two in one knife/magazine carrier for your left side to go with the cross draw. If you o reload more than once, what you really need is a bigger gun. Plus you always carry extras in your pockets. Not the most ve, but it’s versatile. I’ll give you the whole setup for €2,250 because I’m such a nice guy.”

  “Preem. You got a deal” Cal said as he passed the unity over to Wilson and wired him the other €2,140.

  “e ba 10 and I’ll have everything ready to go.”

  Cal just nodded and walked out into the training area to talk to Coach Fred. As it turned out, Fred did not have any sharpeners, but he mentioned a few vendors over in the Kabuki Roundabout that were likely to have something that would work for him. Cal thanked him for the info a back to collect his new purchases from Wilson before heading that way.

  His new hardware barely hung from his flimsy belt. The thing threateo break or end up around his a any moment, adding one more item to his shopping list for the day.

  It didn’t take long for him to reach the Kabuki Roundabout and offload all of his junk, pig up a new jacket, belt, and a whet stone in the process. The jacket had a light armadillo armor lihat was slightly impact absorbent. Anything with some heat behind it was going to leave him with some cracked or broken ribs, but that was better than a perforated lung. The st prote helped give him some peaind in this city where shootouts were an invenienot a rarity. He was more upset about his at that now sat at a miserable €1209 after his little spending spree.

  The jacket was his most expensive, but most crucial purchase of the day. It was a worn bck leather jacket with the iic blue lighting inside a high colr, the colr ag as both a programmable aesthetic touch as well as a light ballistic shield for his neck. He could have gone for a cheaper option to save some eddies, but Cal thought if he was going to be living in this world from now on he needed some prote and he also wao look the part.

  This did end up leaving him in a bit of a bind on the cash front, but he already had pns to solve that little issue.