The radio jolted me awake, the voice of a hyperactive DJ shouting. "Good morning, Night City!" The words echoed around the room, dragging me out of my sleep. The first thing I noticed was the coolness of the sheets against my bare legs. I'd kicked off the thin blanket, leaving only my old shirt hanging loose on my torso. Light trickled in from the narrow gap between the buildings outside, faintly illuminating the messy room. My eyes fluttered open, as I yawned.
The smooth fabric of the mattress pressing against my but as I slowly rose up. I shifted, stretching out the stiffness from sleep, feeling my muscles groan in protest before that lovely pop noise rang out. My shirt had twisted around me in the night, clinging to my skin in some places, bunched up in others. As I moved, the hem rode up further before I pulled it down.
The radio continued its morning tirade. "If you're just waking up, you're probably already late! Tiger Claws were hit last night, and nobody knows by who yet. But hey, in this city, does that even matter?" I smiled to myself, knowing exactly who had pulled that stunt. The Mox had moved in quick after I gave them that info. Maybe I should have joined them.
I forced myself up, bare feet meeting the cold, hard floor. The damp, metallic scent of rain lingered in the air, As I turned to look at the window and see as it began to rain. The door to the balcony was still shut but the chill had seeped in through the cracks. I needed to force that thing open eventually, let some fresh air in. But first, I had to deal with the stiffness in my limbs, the ache still clinging from the last few days of moving through the city.
I stood there for a moment, my shirt reached down past my waist, leaving my legs exposed. The cool air brushing against my skin. The rain outside tapped rhythmically against the metal railings of the balcony, the sound oddly soothing. I let out a sigh, absentmindedly running a hand through my tangled bed hair.
After a few minutes of just standing there, I moved toward the door. I caught a glimpse of myself in the dusty old mirror hung near the corner. My reflection showed the contrast of bare legs, the loose shirt hanging off my frame. A smirk tugged at the corner of my lips.
Reaching up, I slid Futaba's shard out of its slot near my neck. No need for her to see me like this, I turned my attention to the rest of the day. First, the damn door. The idea of forcing it open crossed my mind again, the urge for a breath of fresh air growing stronger.
I padded over to the pile of clothes in the corner, the chill of the floor still nipping at my feet. From the mess, I pulled a pair of dusty old socks, mismatched but warm, and slipped them on, then went to the system storage. I mentally opened the interface, flicking through the icons that blinked to life in my vision. The cleaning supplies that i had bought.
I pulled out the supplies, setting them down on the table. The weight of the bottles made the table wobble, and for a moment I thought it might just collapse then and there, but it held. I grabbed one of the rags, popped open a bottle of cleaner, and started with the table itself. It was caked in layers of dust and grime.
I soaked the rag and went at it, scrubbing hard. The motions were almost meditative. The table was scarred with years of use, burn marks from who knows what, deep scratches. But as I worked, it started to look a little less like a piece of abandoned junk though I might need to get some nails and a toolbox to make sure it didn't break. That or upgrade to a steel table.
As I scrubbed, the radio played in the background, volume low, just a murmur of voices. The DJ had shifted away from the usual morning chatter to the news. Most of it was just more of the same, gang violence, corpo takeovers, he sounded slightly bored going over that information.
"Authorities have identified the body found in a dumpster yesterday as Maria Santos, a seventeen year old from Heywood. Maria was reported missing three days ago by her family. The NCPD is urging anyone with any information to come forward."
I paused, rag in hand, staring at the radio, Maria Santos. I could almost hear the crack in the DJ's voice as he continued. "The family has expressed their gratitude to the anonymous individual who reported the body. In a statement, they said, 'We want to thank whoever found our daughter and called the authorities. You gave us a chance to bring her home and say goodbye properly.'"
My hand tightened around the rag, knuckles white. I had done that. It was a small comfort. I muttered under my breath, "At least I did one thing right." I turned my attention back to the table. I scrubbed harder, taking out my frustration on the grime.
With the table as clean as it was going to get, I moved on to the floor. I swept up the dust and dirt into a pile, then soaked another rag to wipe down the worst spots. Every time I thought I was making progress, I'd find another stain. But there was something oddly satisfying about it, watching the room slowly transform from a total dump to a slightly less awful dump.
The pile of trash grew as I worked, broken bits of glass which I was lucky not to step on, crumpled papers, and other debris that had accumulated from whoever lived here before me. I gathered it all into an old plastic bag that I got from under the sink, then tossed it out into the hallway. It landed with a thud, a small cloud of dust puffing up from the bag as it settled. I could deal with it later; for now, it was enough just to get it out of the room.
I turned back to the interior, the air already feeling a bit clearer. The cleaner smell was strong, but it was better than the musty odor that had hung in the air before. I wiped my forehead with the back of my hand, leaving a streak of cleaner across my skin. A small laugh bubbled up as I caught sight of myself in the mirror, dirty, tired, but actually smiling for the first time in days.
"Damn, what I wouldn't give for some fuzzy pajama pants right now," I said out loud, the words echoing slightly in the small room. It was true. As much as I didn't mind the freedom of being half-naked in my own space, there was something comforting about soft, warm pajamas. I made a mental note to grab a pair next time I was out, something obnoxiously bright, with a cute pattern like cats or stars.
I moved on to the few shelves mounted on the walls. They were cluttered with junk, old magazines, broken bits of tech, and a couple of books with their spines cracked and pages yellowed with age. I sorted through it all, tossing the obvious trash into another bag and setting aside the few things that might be useful later. The books I kept, piling them neatly on the now-clean table.
The radio had moved on to other news, but I thought about her family, about how they must be feeling right now. At least they had closure. It was more than a lot of people in this city ever got from what I could tell.
The room had started to take shape by the time I was done. It wasn't perfect, some of the stains on the floor refused to budge, old spills and burns from God knows what. The stale odor had been replaced by the sharp scent of cleaner.
The tiny sink gleamed under the weak light, the metal shining in a way it hadn't when i first started cleaning. I ran the tap, letting the water run over my hands for a second. It was clean water surprisingly. The stove, though, that was a lost cause. I'd tried fiddling with it earlier, hoping I could coax it into working, but all it had done was make a weird hissing sound before falling silent again. Another project for later, maybe.
I sighed, wiping my hands on a rag before tossing it aside. My stomach growled. Digging into the system storage, I pulled out one of the packs of instant ramen. It was cheap, barely even real food.
I tore the wrapper open, staring at the dry, curled noodles. Normally, I'd boil some water, let them soften up, but with the stove out of commission, that wasn't happening.
With a shrug, I bit into the block of dry ramen, crunching down on the hard noodles. The flavor packet tasted like salt and plastic had a baby. It wasn't good, but it was something. I sat down at the cleaner table, eating the ramen in silence as I skimmed over the books, the sound of my chewing filling the room.
The radio had gone back to music, a low, melancholic beat pulsing through the speakers. It was a slow jam, the kind of thing you'd hear in some dive bar at three in the morning when the last of the drunks were swaying to the rhythm, trying not to pass out on the counter. I leaned back in my chair, letting the sound wash over me as I finished the last of the ramen.
The quiet was nice, even if the view from the window was nothing but concrete and rain-slicked streets. I tossed the empty ramen wrapper onto the table, leaning back in the chair as I let out a slow breath.
I glanced over at the window, the faint city lights casting a dull glow through the glass. The sound of the downpour outside meant I wasn't going out today.
I stood up, stretching out the stiffness in my legs, and wandered back over to the small sink. The water ran clear and cold as I rinsed my hands, the metallic tap squeaking as I twisted it off. I rubbed my fingers together, the cool water lingering on my skin for a moment before I dried off with the corner of my shirt.
I turned and looked at the small table, I moved back, and ran my hand over the worn covers, the cracked spines. Id read more later, though it was interesting reading about the group called Danger Gal. I really liked their cat theme.
As I moved around the room, I stood in the middle of the room, staring at the clean but still stained floor, my fingers trailing absentmindedly along the edge of the table. The rain pattered against the window, and for a second, I let my mind go blank, just listening.
I felt the dirt clinging to me, grime from hours of scrubbing and moving debris around. My skin felt itchy, my hair heavy with sweat and dust. I needed a shower.
I made my way to the small bathroom, the coolness of the floor seeping through my socks. The rusted showerhead barely looked functional. I leaned over, twisting the knob of the shower. It sputtered for a second before the water started flowing, hitting the floor with a metallic hiss. I peeled off my shirt and tossed it onto the small hook on the door, standing there for a moment in the dim light, the cool air brushing over my body.
I held my hand under the stream, feeling the temperature, lukewarm at best. I stepped in as the water trickled down, a soft mist began to rise, swirling around my feet, the steam catching the faint light from the window. For a second, it almost looked like one of those scenes from an anime, where the view is carefully obscured, shafts of light and steam hiding just enough.
letting the water wash over me, trailing down my chest, my stomach, and lower. The sensation was immediate, a mix of relief and discomfort. The lukewarm water was a far cry from the hot, relaxing showers I was used to. I let it pour over me, leaning my head back as I ran my fingers through my tangled hair, feeling the grime loosen and wash away. The water traced down my back, following every curve, it would be nice to have working lights at least in here.
I grabbed a bar of soap from my inventory, lathering it between my hands before running it over my arms, the scent clean but faint, smelling of lemon. As I scrubbed, I couldn't help but think about how many eddies I had left. I'd made a decent amount on that last job, I was sitting on enough to get by for a while, plus food wouldn't be a problem, unless I wanted to eat something hot.
As the soap ran over my legs, suds forming, I let my mind drift to the system store. The interface blinked into my vision, displaying the list of available shards. I scrolled through, mentally sifting through the options, looking for something that might be worth the investment.
**Beginner Shards (Available):**
- **Holly Robinson** (DC) – Price: 700 Eddies
*Skills: Trained in hand-to-hand combat and acrobatics by Catwoman, basic stealth and thievery. Proficient with a knife.*
- **Misty Knight** – Price: 850 Eddies
*Skills: Martial arts, tactical training, proficient with firearms. Former police officer.*
- **Makoto Niijima** (Persona 5) – Price: 600 Eddies
*Skills: Basic combat skills, adept at analyzing situations, strong-willed leader.*
- **Quinn Fabray** (Glee) – Price: 300 Eddies
*Skills: Basic leadership, social navigation. flexable. *
- **Oliver Queen (Young)** – Price: 750 Eddies
*Skills: Early archery training, basic survival skills, minor combat training from informal street fights.*
- **Nami (One Piece)** – Price: 700 Eddies
*Skills: Basic thievery, pickpocketing.*
I had about 800 eddies left, so most of these were within reach. Holly Robinson stood out to me, though. Trained by Catwoman? That was a solid recommendation. who hadn't heard of Catwoman? she was a bad ass. I paused for a second, debating whether to pull the trigger on the purchase now or wait. Letting the thought linger in the back of my mind, soap trailing down my thighs as I rinsed off under the water.
The stream hit the top of my head, It had began to warm up. Nice looked like I did have hot water just took it sweat ass time. I leaned forward, letting the water cascade over my back as I scrubbed the last of the soap away. The feeling of being clean was a relief.
I stepped out of the shower, water still dripping from my hair, catching the light as I stood there for a moment, naked and clean. I ran the clean rag I had over my skin, the coarse fabric pulling the last bit of water from my body. My mind was still on the eddies, still weighing whether or not to grab that Holly Robinson shard. I could always wait. I tossed the towel aside, stretching as the cool air hit my damp skin.
The radio's voice cut through the quiet again, pulling me back to reality. "Another rainy day in Night City, chooms. Hope you're staying dry, or at least staying alive." The DJ's voice was full of that usual snark, but I barely registered it, still thinking over my next move.
My mind wandered back to the system store, as the interface materialized in front of me again. Holly Robinson's shard stared back at me, still hovering in the corner of my vision, her name and stats laid out like a tempting offer. She was skilled, trained by Catwoman herself, and that alone made her worth considering.
The memory of that night flashed in my mind again, The weight of the gun in my hand, the scent of blood heavy in the air, and then him, Red Hood. The look in his eyes when he saved me. I still didn't know his real name, didn't care to know, really. I respected him, he let me finish what I had to, even if it meant my own life was the cost.
I flicked my fingers again, pulling up his shard just to see the price. **120,000 eddies.** The number stared back at me, so high it felt like a punch to the gut. But it made sense. Red Hood wasn't just some random, it made sense he wasn't cheap.
"Fucking crazy," I muttered under my breath, shaking my head, my wet hair sticking to the sides of my face. I wasn't anywhere near that kind of money, but it didn't stop me from thinking about it. One day, maybe. One day I'd have the kind of cash to get him to teach me, but until then... I had to focus on what I could afford.
I stepped out of the bathroom, the cold air hitting my damp skin, making me shiver. My eddies were limited. Should I grab that Holly Robinson shard? Or should I invest in cybernetics instead?
I'd already seen what people in this city could do with the right enhancements. Like that guy who was shacking off shots from those fanatics.
I walked over to the window, the city lights flickering in the distance as I stared out, my fingers grabbing my only shirt and pulling it over my head.
I leaned against the window, the cool glass pressing against my back. As I pulled my shirt down, the interface for my system storage blinked into view, and I stopped cold. Something was different. It wasn't the usual display of my items and shards. Instead, a notification had popped up, flashing in the corner like it was waiting for me to pay attention.
**Quest Complete: Discover and Avenge the Dead Girl.**
I stared at the message for a second, still pulling my shirt down over my hips. I had forgotten about the quest reward.
The message faded, replaced by a new screen.
**Rewards:**
- **Random Data Chip**
- **Experience Points (XP)**
"Okay…" I muttered to myself, still a little taken aback. My fingers flicked through the air, accessing the data chip first. A small, glowing icon appeared in front of me, shimmering with faint lines of code. I reached out, The moment my fingers brushed against the icon, a new wave of information flooded my mind. I could feel it settling in, knowledge seeping into the corners of my brain like water into dry soil.
But it wasn't what I was expecting. It wasn't a combat skill, something that would help me survive the streets, or even anything remotely related to hacking. No, this was something else.
**Skill: Guitar (Max Level)**
"What the fuck?" I said aloud, laughing in disbelief. Out of all the things the system could have thrown at me, it gave me the ability to play the guitar. it made me a rockstar. No gun, no edge, just strings. I didn't even own a guitar, let alone have any reason to use one. But there it was, sitting in my mind, the knowledge of how to play the instrument like I'd been doing it my entire life.
I sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, staring at my hands. The feeling of the skill settling in was oddly satisfying, like stretching a muscle you didn't know you had. It was useless, sure, but at the same time, I couldn't help but feel the faintest hint of excitement. If I ever got my hands on a guitar, I knew I could play it flawlessly. Hell, I could probably busk on the streets for a few extra eddies if I was ever desperate enough.
The more I thought about it, the more ridiculous it seemed. I had a system that could give me all sorts of combat skills, hacking techniques, and the first random skill it threw at me was how to play guitar.
I finished pulling on my pants, still grinning like an idiot. "Guess I'm a musician now," I muttered, shaking my head. The room felt warmer, cozier even, as I paced around, wondering how I might make use of this random skill. Sure, it wasn't going to help me take down any gangs or navigate Night City's underworld, but who knew? Maybe it'd come in handy. Maybe there was some club or bar out there where I could pretend to be the next Johnny Silverhand, strumming my way into a few easy eddies.