A/N: 4 more chapters incoming. Also thank you to those who have contributed stones and commented. Your support means a lot to me. Significant engagement, stones, ratings and so on...translate into extra chapters ;)
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Lin Mo stepped off the curb and, with a thought, activated the call for a ride. Moments later, a sleek Delamain cab rolled to a stop beside him—silent and efficient, like the AI it was renowned for. No one in Night City did transport better than Delamain.
"Welcome back, valued customer. It's a pleasure to be at your service again," the AI's voice came through the car's speakers, smooth and refined.
"Take me to Megabuilding H8," Lin Mo said, settling into the back seat.
The client Wakako had referred him to lived there—just another job in Night City, but with Wakako's name attached, it always meant something interesting.
"Destination: Megabuilding H8. Estimated arrival: 15 minutes. Please relax and enjoy the ride."
Fifteen minutes later, the Delamain taxi came to a smooth halt in front of the towering structure, its shadow cutting across the street like a steel-and-glass behemoth. Megabuilding H8 dominated the skyline, rising high above the city, a testament to Night City's brutalist architecture. Its modular construction hinted at mass production, every block blending into the next, yet the whole thing had a distinct futuristic allure.
Lin Mo had heard of these megabuildings before. They were practically cities in their own right. He couldn't help but recall Cyberpunk 2077, the game that had consumed so many hours of his life. It was a strange parallel—V, the game's protagonist, started out in a building just like this.
Megabuilding H8 housed over 2,000 apartments. A place this massive needed more than just residential units to function. It had everything from stores and stalls to bars and weapons shops, with the top floors reserved for the wealthy elite. The views from those penthouses were legendary, a sweeping panorama of the city below, where the powerful could sit back and pretend they owned the world.
For most of Night City's residents, renting a modest apartment here was the dream—a taste of middle-class life in a city where survival often meant scraping by in the dirt.
Lin Mo headed for the elevator, his eyes drawn to the digital display. When the screen lit up, listing the floors, his expression shifted as something familiar caught his eye.
The 12th floor was labeled "Cloudtop."
"Cloudtop..." Lin Mo muttered, his mouth twisting into a smirk. "Almost forgot about that."
In Night City, Cloudtop was more than just a name—it was infamous. One of the most well-known dollhouses in Japantown, maybe in all of Night City. He'd read about it, heard the rumors. The kind of services Cloudtop provided were... next-level. He'd looked into it out of curiosity once, and the experience had been eye-opening in ways he hadn't expected. Top-tier dollwork, elite service, and experiences tailored to desires most people didn't even know they had.
The stories had stuck with him, though not all of them pleasant. One time, during a room cleanup, his sister Xu Wanxue had found some of the files he'd hidden away—reviews, ads, and other "research." He still remembered how furious she'd been, docking his entire month's allowance. It was a miracle he hadn't gotten worse than that.
Shaking his head, Lin Mo focused back on the job. He wasn't here for distractions. Wakako's business came first. Anything that messed with Night City's rhythm could end badly, especially if it interfered with events before their time. Lin Mo wasn't eager to throw himself into Night City's chaos prematurely. There were things in motion that even the most jacked-up solo wouldn't survive if caught off guard.
After a moment's hesitation, Lin Mo pressed the button for the 15th floor. The elevator hummed softly as it ascended, and when the doors slid open, Lin Mo stepped into the dim hallway. The place was typical of mid-level housing in a megabuilding: a bit worn around the edges, but functional.
He approached the apartment door and knocked, standing back as he waited.
The door slid open, and a man stood there—disheveled, with dark bags under his eyes and hair that looked like it hadn't seen a comb in days. His Asian features were sharp, but he looked worn, exhausted. His right arm had been replaced by a sleek cybernetic limb, the gleam of black sensors embedded in the metal fingers catching the low light. His bloodshot eyes regarded Lin Mo with thinly veiled annoyance.
"Who the hell are you? You lost, kid?" the man asked in Japanese, his voice gruff.
"Wakako sent me. I'm here about the job," Lin Mo replied, stepping back a bit from the man's stale, sour scent.
The man blinked, surprise flashing across his face as he took a second, more appraising look at Lin Mo. "You're Lin Mo?"
"That's me. Nice to meet you, Hiro Kitagawa," Lin Mo said, nodding.
Kitagawa's expression soured even more as he studied Lin Mo, eyes narrowing as if he was scanning for details beyond what he could see. After a moment, his frown deepened.
"Wakako said she was sending someone young, but... shit, how old are you?" Kitagawa asked, his tone skeptical.
"Sixteen," Lin Mo replied calmly.
Kitagawa let out a low grunt, clearly unimpressed. "Sixteen, huh? Done any real work before? What kind of chrome you got installed?"
For Kitagawa, age wasn't the issue—Night City didn't care how old you were. What mattered was the hardware. A sixteen-year-old with enough chrome and experience could easily outclass a veteran without the right gear.
"Nothing major. Basic life-support mods. Only got a smart link in my hand," Lin Mo said, as straightforward as ever.
Kitagawa paused, staring at Lin Mo like he couldn't believe what he'd just heard. "A smart link? So, what—you packin' smart weapons?" he asked, eyes drifting to the bag slung over Lin Mo's shoulder.
Lin Mo nodded.
Kitagawa's interest piqued. "What kind?"
"A Kang Tao G-58 Dian and a D5 Copperhead," Lin Mo replied.
Kitagawa's eyes narrowed again, weighing the value of what Lin Mo just said. He stepped aside, motioning for Lin Mo to enter. "Alright, come in."
The gears were already turning in Kitagawa's head. A Copperhead was no joke—worth more than most solos would ever see in their lifetime, and in the right hands, it was deadly. The Dian was also a reliable piece, combining precision with enough punch to make anyone think twice before crossing its path.
A rookie with gear like that wasn't someone to dismiss lightly. Kitagawa had to admit, he was intrigued.