The first thing I noticed was the stiffness in my body, a dull ache that spread through my limbs as I shifted on the cold, hard surface beneath me. My eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the dim light filtering through the narrow gaps in the pipes. The cramped space offered little comfort, and every muscle protested as I slowly pushed myself up, the soreness from yesterday's events settling in.
I rubbed my neck, feeling the tension that had built up from sleeping in such a confined space. My stomach growled. The stale sandwich had been enough to keep me going, but now the hunger was back with a vengeance, gnawing at my insides. And the dryness in my throat made it clear that I needed water, too.
Carefully, I stretched out my legs, wincing as the stiffness made itself known. My body wasn't used to this kind of treatment, sleeping in a tight crawl space with nothing but a rusted pipe for company. But there was no use complaining.
The light creeping into the crawl space told me it was day, though how far into the day I couldn't say. The sun's warmth didn't reach me here, and the low hum of activity starting to pick up outside.
With a deep breath, I pulled myself fully upright, crouching as best I could in the cramped space. My muscles screamed in protest, but I ignored them.
I ran a hand through my tangled hair, grimacing at the greasy feel of it. A shower would be nice, but that was a luxury I couldn't afford right now. First things first, I needed to find food and water, something to keep me going until I could figure out my next move.
Pushing the pipe aside, I prepared to leave the safety of the crawl space. The streets weren't exactly welcoming, but I had no choice. I'd have to find what I needed out there. Maybe I'd get lucky and find something worthwhile something I could sell for a few Eddies. Or at the very least, something edible.
With a final stretch, I began the slow, careful crawling out from my hiding spot, the harsh daylight hitting me full force as I stepped out onto the cracked pavement. The city was already alive with the noise of traffic, distant shouts, and the sound of cop cars blaring. It was loud, chaotic, and somehow comforting in its own way. The familiar noises much like Gotham.
But this wasn't Gotham. It was something else entirely, and for the first time, I took a moment to really look around and take it all in.
The streets were a mix of buildings and neon signs. Some of the structures looked like they had seen better days, with windows shattered, walls covered in graffiti, and bullet holes. Even in the more damaged buildings, I could see figures moving inside, shadows flitting behind broken glass.
I pulled the hood tighter over my head, not because I needed to hide, but because it gave me a sense of security. In Gotham, the best way to stay unnoticed was to be just another face in the crowd, and it seemed that rule applied here too. No one would pay attention to a girl in oversized, dirty clothes if she didn't draw attention to herself.
As I walked, I noticed the kids first. They weren't much younger than me, some maybe even my age, but their clothes were in better shape. They wore worn-out jackets, scuffed shoes, and jeans. I couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy, my own clothes hung off me, filthy and oversized, like I'd raided a dumpster for them. Which, in a way, I had.
The kids glanced at me as I passed, their eyes lingering for a moment before they turned away, uninterested. I couldn't blame them. I probably smelled like the inside of that dumpster too. A few adults walking by gave me a wide berth, their noses wrinkling in disgust as they caught a whiff of my less-than-fresh scent. I ignored them.
I kept moving, trying to take in as much information as I could. The streets here were different from anything I'd seen before. it was the tech, the way that everyone seemed to have some kind of Cybernetic.
As I walked, I heard a couple of people talking nearby, their voices cutting through the noise of the city. They were standing outside a small shop, the kind that looked like it sold everything from used tech to bootlegged software. I slowed my pace, trying to listen in without being obvious.
"Yeah, this part of Heywood's gone to shit. Used to be you could walk down the street without worrying about getting jumped, but now…" one of them said, his voice carrying a note of frustration.
"Tell me about it. These days, you're lucky if you don't get caught in the crossfire between the Valentinos and whatever the hell gang's trying to move in," the other replied, shaking his head.
Heywood. So that's where I was. It didn't mean much to me, not yet, but it was a start. Every bit of information was something I could use.
I kept walking, the streets growing more crowded as I moved closer to what looked like a marketplace. People milled about, bartering for food, Clothes, and other necessities. The smell of cooking meat wafted through the air, making my stomach growl painfully. I hadn't eaten enough last night, and the hunger was starting to make my head swim.
But I couldn't just walk up and buy something. I didn't have any Eddies, and with the way I looked, no one was going to give me anything for free. I'd have to find another way, but that could wait. For now, I just needed to keep moving.
As I passed by a stall selling used clothes, I caught sight of myself in a cracked mirror hanging on the wall. The reflection staring back at me was almost unrecognizable. My face was half-hidden under the hood, but what I could see looked just as rough as I felt, dark circles under my eyes, a smudge of dirt on my cheek, and my hair was a mess.
A couple of people glanced at me, their expressions ranging from mild disgust to outright pity. I turned away from the mirror, not wanting to see anymore. There was no point in dwelling on it.
But at least I had a name now. Heywood. It wasn't much, but it was something to hold onto, to know where I was and if I wanted to stay. I didn't know how long it would take me to figure out the rest, but I wasn't in a hurry. I had time.
The sun climbed higher in the sky as I continued to wander, my mind racing with thoughts and plans. I'd find something to eat, something to drink, and maybe if I was lucky a place to call home.
The streets of Heywood were noisy be it people talking or loud music that someone was playing Then a sharp crack of gunfire cut through the noise, drawing my attention.
I kept walking, following the noise, not because I wanted to join in, far from it, but because I was curious. This place was still new to me, and I needed to understand how things worked. Plus, if there was a fight, there might be something left behind afterward, something worth scavenging.
As I got closer, the shouts and gunfire grew louder, and I could see the firefight ahead. The fight was happening in the middle of the street, between two groups that were clearly out for blood. I recognized the Valentinos from what I'd overheard earlier, their colorful tattoos and flashy clothes and the gold color they loved so much. The other group was different though, darker, more ragged. The Inquisitors, if I had to guess. From what I'd picked up, they were a gang that hated cyberware, seeing it as some kind of blasphemy.
I found a spot behind an old, rusted car, crouching down to watch the fight without getting too close. I wasn't stupid enough to get involved, but I wasn't going to miss the show either.
The Valentinos were holding their ground, using the cover of cars and building corners as they fired back at the Inquisitors. The Inquisitors, on the other hand, were relentless, charging forward with a crazed intensity that was almost unsettling. Their weapons were crude, shotguns and low-caliber guns.
Then I saw him, a big guy, one of the Valentinos, breaking from cover and running straight at the Inquisitors. He was a sight to see, all muscle and tattoos, with a steel bat in his hand. As he charged, bullets pinged off his skin like they were nothing, barely leaving a mark. It was like he was made of something more than just flesh and bone.
The smaller caliber bullets didn't do a thing to him, just bouncing off as he kept moving forward. But when an Inquisitor fired a shotgun at close range, the big guy staggered, gritting his teeth as the blast actually made him bleed. He didn't stop, though. With a roar, he brought the bat down on the Inquisitor, crushing him with a sickening thud.
I watched, fascinated, as the fight continued. The Valentinos were clearly outnumbered, but they were holding their own. The Inquisitors, for all their zealotry shit they were shouting, were struggling to make any real impact against the Valentinos'.
That big guy with the bat, though—he was something else. The way the bullets bounced off him, the way he shrugged off the pain, Some kind of cyberware, no doubt, but I didn't know enough about it to say for sure. All I knew was that it was impressive as hell, and it piqued my interest in a way I hadn't expected.
The fight raged on, the Valentinos slowly pushing back the Inquisitors, who were starting to retreat. They weren't running, not yet, but it was clear they were losing.
I stayed low, my eyes glued to the action, absorbing every detail. I didn't know much about cyberware, but watching this fight made me want to learn more.
The gunfire was beginning to taper off, the Valentinos pushing back the Inquisitors. I was so focused on the fight. suddenly I felt the cold press of metal against the back of my head. Instinctively, I froze, my muscles locking up as my mind raced. I'd been in bad spots before, but this was different. I wasn't in Gotham anymore, and I had no idea how this was going to play out.
"Turn around, slowly," a deep, gruff voice ordered. The words were laced with a casual authority that told me this wasn't the first time he'd held a gun to someone's head.
Slowly, I raised my hands, keeping them where he could see them as I turned around to face him. My heart pounded in my chest, but I forced myself to stay calm, to take in every detail of the man standing in front of me.
He was big, really big. Muscles bulged beneath his jacket. His skin was the color of warm tan, his face had cyberware that glinted in the daylight. He wore a heavy bomber jacket, and a few gold chains hung around his neck, catching the light as he moved. Tattoos peeked out from beneath the sleeves of his jacket, intricate designs that I couldn't quite make out in the heat of the moment.
But it was his face that caught my attention. There was something about it, strong features, a sharp jawline, and eyes that seemed to bore into me, sizing me up. A dark, serious expression sat beneath the trimmed mohawk, a look that told me this wasn't a man to be messed with. He was the kind of guy who'd seen it all, been through it all, and come out the other side harder and tougher than ever.
To him, I must have looked like nothing more than a skinny, lost kid. I probably smelled like the dumpster I'd crawled out of yesterday night, and I had no doubt that my appearance did nothing to help my situation.
"Lower the hoodie," he ordered, his voice still steady, but with a hint of curiosity. He wasn't just checking me out; he wanted to see who he was dealing with.
I hesitated for a moment, my mind racing through the options. There weren't many. Slowly, I reached up and pulled the hood down, revealing my face. My hair was a mess, tangled and greasy, and I could feel the dirt and grime on my skin. I looked up at him, trying to gauge his reaction.
He studied me for a moment, those sharp eyes narrowing slightly as he took in my features. Then he let out a small, almost amused grunt. "Mocosa," he repeated, the word rolling off his tongue with a mix of annoyance and something else, maybe pity. "What are you doing out here, huh? Ain't a place for kids."
Before I could even think of a response, the sound of footsteps pounding on the pavement behind me made me tense up. I saw the change in his expression before I even turned around, his eyes narrowed, his body shifting slightly as he prepared for something.
An Inquisitor, wild-eyed and desperate, was rushing at us with a large blade in hand, his face twisted in a snarl. The guy behind me shifted, ready to take him down, but in that split second, I saw my chance. Without thinking, I bolted.
I darted to the side, my heart pounding as I sprinted away from the fight. The last thing I heard was a curse and the sound of a scuffle behind me as the big guy dealt with the Inquisitor. I didn't look back. All I knew was that I needed to get out of there, fast.
The alleyways blurred around me as I ran, my legs burning with the effort, but I didn't stop. I weaved through the narrow paths, turning corners and ducking under low-hanging signs, doing everything I could to put distance between me and whatever was happening back there.
I had no idea who that guy was, but I knew enough to understand that sticking around wasn't an option. He might have let me go this time, but I couldn't count on that kind of luck again. The only thing that mattered was getting away, and finding another place to lay low.
As I ran, my mind raced. I didn't know who the Valentinos were, not really, but I was starting to understand just how dangerous this world could be. And whoever that guy was, he was someone I didn't want to mess with. Not yet, anyway.
My heart was still racing as I put more distance between myself and the scene of the fight. My breath came in ragged gasps, but I didn't stop until I was sure I was far enough away. Finally, I slowed down, leaning against a wall to catch my breath. My thoughts were still spinning from what had just happened, As my legs felt numb.
That guy, the one who held me at gunpoint, there was something about him that lingered in my mind. The way he stood, the way he looked at me, even the way he called me mucosa, it all reminded me of my dad. Just for a second, the memory flashed in my mind. My dad had that same kind of presence, that quiet authority that didn't need to be shouted. He was someone people respected, someone they didn't mess with.
I shook my head, pushing the thought away. This wasn't the time for memories. I needed to focus, Still, the feeling lingered, making it harder to shove the memory to the back of my mind where it belonged.
With the adrenaline starting to fade, I realized just how hungry I was. My stomach growled loudly, Food was a priority, and so was finding something worth selling. I couldn't stay in this part of town, and I didn't want to run into that guy or his friends again.
I scanned the area, spotting a few large dumpsters near the back of a crumbling building. They were the kind that might hold something more than just trash if I was lucky. I made my way over, glancing around to make sure no one was watching before I started digging.
The first dumpster was mostly junk, rotting food, old papers, and broken electronics that were too far gone to be of any use. But the second one was a bit more promising. I found a half-eaten sandwich wrapped in a greasy piece of paper. It was still fresh, so I stuffed it into my pocket. There were also a few old shards, they weren't completely fried which should be good.
I picked up one of the shards, turning it over in my hand. It was scuffed and dirty, but it looked intact. I could probably get a few Eddies for it. I found a couple more shards and added them to the stash.
Once I'd collected everything I could find, I took a quick look around. This part of town was rough, the kind of place where people didn't ask questions and didn't offer help. It wasn't a place I wanted to stick around in for long.
As I gathered my findings, I remembered the system I had access to. I hadn't really used it yet, but now seemed like a good time to start. I focused on the storage aspect, willing it to activate. The HUD flickered into view, displaying my inventory space.
I stashed the food and the shards in the storage, feeling a small sense of relief as they disappeared from my hands and into the digital space. At least now I didn't have to carry them around.
With that taken care of, I adjusted my hoodie and started walking again. I didn't have a specific destination in mind just a general idea of getting out of this area and finding somewhere to sell the shards.
I kept walking, my eyes scanning the streets for anything. The further I got from the scene of the fight, the more the streets started to change.
As I wandered, I passed by a group of people huddled together near the entrance of a small market. They were talking in low voices, but their conversation caught my attention. I slowed my pace, keeping my distance while trying to listen in. It wasn't hard most people didn't pay attention to a skinny kid hanging around.
"Man, did you hear what happened at the Arasaka tower yesterday?" one guy said, his voice tinged with a mix of excitement and fear.
"Yeah, some big exec got flatlined in the middle of a board meeting. Shit's wild, choom," another responded, shaking his head. "But what else is new with those corpos? Always stabbing each other in the back, all for a few more Eddies."
A third voice chimed in, this one belonging to a woman with a cigarette hanging from the corner of her mouth. "Flatlined? You mean iced, right? No way it was just some random hit. They're always playing dirty, but it's never random. Someone wanted that exec gone, and they wanted to send a message."
"Yeah, but who? Militech? Kang Tao? Or was it one of their own?" the first guy asked, his brow furrowing. "The corpos are always at each other's throats, but you never know who's pulling the strings. Could be anyone."
"Does it matter?" the woman shot back, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "At the end of the day, it's us who get caught in the crossfire. They sit up there in their towers, pulling the strings while we're down here fighting for scraps."
"True that," the second guy muttered. "But you know what? If I had the chance, I'd work for one of them in a heartbeat. Get some of that corpo cash, live the high life. Better than scrapping around here, dodging bullets, and being poor."
"Yeah, until you end up on the wrong side of a power play," the woman said with a grim smile. "Those corpos chew you up and spit you out. Doesn't matter how much they pay you at the end of the day."
They all nodded in agreement, the conversation turning quieter as they lapsed into silence, each lost in their thoughts. But for me, it was an eye-opener. The word "corpos" hadn't meant much to me before, just another bit of slang I'd heard in passing. But now, I was starting to piece it together.
The corpos were the ones running the show in this city, or at least they thought they were. Big companies with more power and money than I could even imagine. It was a different kind of power from what I was used to in Gotham.
It didn't take long to figure out that the corpos weren't to be trusted. The way those people talked about them, it was clear that the corpos were dangerous, maybe even more dangerous than the gangs. At least with gangs, you knew where you stood. But with the corpos, it sounded like you could never be sure. I kept walking, letting the conversation roll around in my head. The corpos were just one more thing I'd have to watch out for in this city.
The market was busier now, people moving between stalls, bartering and haggling for food or old music discs. The air was thick with the smell of cooking meat and the sound of traders shouting their deals, trying to draw in customers.
I wasn't here to buy, though. I was here to sell.
After scavenging what I could from the dumpsters, I made my way to a small shop tucked away at the edge of the market. It wasn't much to look at, a faded sign, a metal door that looked like it had been kicked in more than once, and a grimy window that barely let in any light. But it was the kind of place where people didn't ask too many questions, and that was exactly what I needed at the moment.
I pushed the door open, the bell above it jingling as I stepped inside. The shop was cramped, every surface cluttered with old tech, parts, and who knows what else. The air was musty, filled with the smell of dust and metal. Behind the counter, a man looked up from whatever he was working on, his eyes narrowing as he took me in.
He had a face lined with deep wrinkles, and a greasy cap pulled low over thinning hair. He didn't look like the friendly type, and the way he was eyeing me made it clear he wasn't thrilled to see me walking into his shop.
"What do you want, street rat?" he growled, his voice rough and gravelly. "I don't have time for beggars."
I kept my mouth shut. I needed this guy, and mouthing off wasn't going to get me anywhere. Instead, I reached into my sweater pocket. well, that's what it looked like to him, As I pulled out one of the shards I'd found, pretending to fish it out from the depths of my oversized clothes.
"I've got something to sell," I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt.
The shopkeeper squinted at the shard, leaning forward to get a better look. He took it from me, turning it over in his hands, and examining it closely. I could see the gears turning in his head, calculating how much he could get for it, and how little he could offer me in return.
"This?" he said, his tone skeptical. "This is junk. Barely worth anything. But I'll take it off your hands, save you the trouble of carrying it around."
I knew he was trying to rip me off, but the truth was, I had no idea what the shard was really worth.
"How much?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
The shopkeeper shrugged, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "Fifty Eddies. Take it or leave it."
I bit back a curse. I knew he was lowballing me, but I didn't have the leverage to argue. I needed the Eddies, and I needed them now. Without saying anything, I nodded.
"Deal," I muttered.
The shopkeeper snorted, clearly pleased with himself as he handed over the Eddies. I took them, stuffing the small stack of bills into my pocket before pulling out the next shard from my "pocket". He repeated the process.
By the time we were done, I had 200 Eddies, not much, but it was better than nothing. The shopkeeper looked me over one last time before waving me off, clearly done with the transaction.
"You get any more junk like that, you know where to bring it," he said, already turning back to whatever he'd been working on before I walked in.
I didn't bother responding. I just turned and walked out of the shop, my grip tightening around the Eddies in my pocket. I knew I'd been taken advantage of, but at least I had something to show for it. I'd just have to be smarter next time, and figure out what this stuff was really worth before I tried to sell it again. Plus Id n ever come back to his store again.
The streets of Night City never seemed to quiet down, even as the sun dipped lower in the sky. The city had a life of its own, a constant buzz. As I wandered, trying to figure out where I would stay for the night, I overheard a conversation between two guys standing at a street corner. They were leaning against a graffiti-covered wall, smoking cigarettes and talking in low voices.
"Yeah, that old place on Calle Oscura," one of them was saying, dragging on his cigarette and blowing the smoke into the air. "Fifty Eddies a night. Place is a shit hole, but it's cheap."
"Right on the border of Valentino's turf too," the other guy replied, shaking his head. "You gotta watch yourself around there, choom. Just across the street, you've got those psychos from Maelstrom. They're always trying to push into Valentino territory."
"Shit, don't remind me," the first guy said, flicking ash onto the ground. "I stayed there once. The place is crawling with junkies and whores. But it's better than sleeping on the street, I guess."
I didn't stick around to hear the rest of their conversation. Fifty Eddies a night didn't sound so bad to me, especially if it meant I could get off the street, even if just for one night. Calle Oscura. I repeated the name in my head, committing it to memory. The name alone told me everything I needed to know. Dark, narrow, and likely full of trouble. But that was okay. What was the worst that could Happened?
The walk to Calle Oscura wasn't long, but the scenery shifted as I moved. The neon signs above the shops were flickering or completely out, leaving parts of the street in shadow. The people here looked rougher, too faces lined with hard years, eyes darting around like crackheads.
As I walked, I couldn't help but notice the barrage of advertisements plastered on every available surface They were the only thing that seemed to be undamaged around here. The electronic billboards were relentless, flashing bright, gaudy images that were impossible to ignore. Most of it was the usual stuff cyberware, Food or drinks, high-end weapons that were way out of reach for someone like me. But some of it was downright Perverted. Ads for brothels, sex dolls, and other things that made me avert my eyes in embarrassment. I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks as I hurried past, focusing on the cracked pavement beneath my feet.
Finally, I found it, La Lluvia Inn. The building looked like it had been through hell and back. The paint was peeling off in chunks, revealing the bare concrete underneath, and the windows were cracked and filthy. A faded neon sign flickered weakly above the entrance, casting a sickly green light over the doorway. It reminded me of the low-end motels back in Gotham, the kind of place you only went to if you were desperate or on the run.
I pushed through the glass door, the bell above it jingling weakly as I stepped inside. The lobby was even worse than I'd expected. The walls were covered in faded, peeling wallpaper, and the floor was a grimy, stained carpet that looked like it hadn't been cleaned in years. A couple of old chairs sat in the corner, and the air was thick with the smell of mildew and stale cigarette smoke.
Behind the counter stood a woman who couldn't have been more than a few years older than me, maybe in her early twenties. She was chewing gum, her jaw moving in slow, lazy circles as she scrolled through something on her holo-screen. She barely glanced up when I walked in, her expression one of complete disinterest.
"What do you want?" she asked, her voice flat and bored.
"I need a room," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. "Just for one night."
"Fifty Eddies," she said, holding out her hand without even looking up from her screen.
I hesitated for a moment, then pulled out the Eddies I'd earned earlier, handing them over. She counted them quickly, then shoved them into a drawer beneath the counter. Without a word, she tossed a keycard onto the counter in front of me.
"Room 207, second floor," she muttered. "No refunds, no complaints."
I took the keycard, my fingers brushing against the sticky surface of the counter as I picked it up. The place was even worse than I'd imagined, but it was a roof over my head, and that was all that mattered right now. I made my way up the creaky stairs, each step groaning under my lightweight. The hallway on the second floor was dimly lit.
The door to Room 207 was as beat-up as the rest of the place. I slid the keycard into the reader, and after a moment, the door slid open, and I stepped inside, half-expecting the place to be worse than the lobby. As the door slid closed.
It was.
The room was small, barely big enough to hold the bed that sat in the center of it. The mattress was lumpy and covered in a threadbare blanket that looked like it had seen better days. There was a tiny table shoved into the corner, with a single chair. A cracked mirror hung on the wall above a sink that was stained with rust. The window was covered by blinds that were bent and broken, letting in just enough light to make the room feel even smaller.
But there was a bathroom, and that was the first place I headed. The door creaked as it slid open, revealing a tiny shower stall and a toilet that looked like it hadn't been cleaned in a while. The tile was cracked, and there was mold growing in the corners, but I didn't care. The idea of getting clean, of washing off the dirt and grime that clung to me, was enough to make me overlook all of it.
I stripped off my clothes and tossed them onto the floor, and stepped into the shower. The water was lukewarm at best, but it was better than nothing. I scrubbed at my skin, watching the dirt swirl down the drain, feeling a small sense of relief.
When I was done, I wrapped myself in the threadbare towel hanging on the rack and rinsed out my clothes in the sink. They were still filthy, but at least they were cleaner than before. I hung them up to dry over the back of the chair, then went to check the closet. To my surprise, there were a couple of old pieces of clothing hanging inside. They weren't anything special, just a faded t-shirt and a pair of worn jeans, but they were clean, and that was all that mattered.
Dressed in the found clothes, I sat down on the edge of the bed, feeling the springs creak beneath my weight. My stomach growled, reminding me that I still hadn't eaten. I pulled out the food I'd scavenged from the dumpsters earlier. The half-eaten sandwich and a couple of stale snack bars and started to eat.
As I chewed, I glanced around the room, taking in the worn furniture, the cracked walls, and the flickering light overhead. It wasn't much, but it was a place to rest, to close my eyes and let the world fade away for a little while.
The exhaustion was starting to catch up with me, my eyelids growing heavy as I finished the last of my meal. I lay back on the bed, the springs protesting under my weight, and stared up at the cracked ceiling. Tomorrow, I'd figure out my next move. Tomorrow, I'd have to get back out there, find another place to stay, figure out how to make more Eddies. But for tonight, I could rest. Tonight, I could let the exhaustion take over, let my mind drift away from the worries and the fears that had been gnawing at me since I arrived in this city.
I closed my eyes, letting out a long, slow breath. The bed might have been lumpy, and the room might have been a dump, but it was a roof over my head, a place to sleep without worrying about who might be watching, who might be waiting for me to slip up.
For tonight, this was enough.