Got really into Edgerunner! I know, I know! I'm a couple of years too late but hey! It's never too late to write a good story!
Plus this story was inspired by another story called Seoul Kitchen written by SirBearinton and the fact that there are barely any stories where they keep Gloria Martinez fucking alive!!!
…I've also gotten into Worm sooo…
Enjoy! Leave a comment if you want more from this story!
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Chapter 1
He was not having a good day.
In fact, he was not having a good fucking month!
A man could be seen slowly limping down the trash-filled alley of Night City, looking to be close to death's door.
Sunken eyes and hollowed cheeks showed signs of severe malnutrition that scratched deeply at the very marrow of his being.
His clothes, once vibrant and lively, were now mere taunts of color, faded by the relentless passage of time and damage.
The dying fabric clung pitifully to his skeletal frame, threatening to sink into the countless caverns of his rib cage where skin used to be.
His fingers, skeletal and adorned with the vestiges of cracked nails, trembled as they extended outwards aimlessly. Each digit was a walking testament to starvation, lined with protruding veins that resembled twisted tree roots seeking scarce nourishment from barren rock.
Every visible ripple on his skin and each crevasse between his bones told tales of unending hunger; the cruel mistress who took pleasure in gnawing away at him day after day ever since he got here!
His lips were dry and cracked, parted slightly as if in a perpetual plea for sustenance that was nowhere in sight.
His body was eating itself alive just to keep him fucking alive!
The painful irony was not lost on him.
As he hobbled forward, every step echoed off the grungy alley walls announcing his skeletal approach.
Now you might be asking yourself.
"Hey, dumbass! why don't you just eat out of the trash if you're fucking starving to death?"
Well, if you would allow me to fucking finish, I'll fucking tell ya!
He collapsed next to a dumpster, taking a deep shaky breath before he forcefully pulled himself up and opened the damn thing up.
Looking into the disgusting container, he began to dig through the garbage to find anything remotely edible.
A month was more than long enough for him to stop caring about digging through whatever the fuck was in these disgusting garbage bags.
Weakly ripping open bag after bag filled with all kinds of useless items and ignoring a whole pizza that was cold, it was only after his seventh bag did he found what he was looking for.
A half-eaten burger that was still somewhat warm.
He breathed out a sigh of relief as he collapsed once again and leaned his back against the dumpster, the burger still in his hand.
This would be the first meal he would have in weeks.
Hurriedly taking a bite of the garbage dump burger, the barely tolerable taste of the processed food entered his mouth. The drug that laced the burger was still there and made it easier to swallow the repulsive thing.
You would think food in the far future would be leagues above that of the past, but you would be horribly wrong! Thank the fucking corporations for that!
He pushed back the urge to vomit from taking a bite from part of the processed food that wasn't laced with drugs.
Make no mistake, even if he got a burger that wasn't from the trash it would still taste the fucking same.
The sound of footsteps knocked him out of his grim thoughts as he weakly looked up to a group of teenagers looking at him with mocking smiles.
"Look at this gonk, chooms! Stuffing his face with garbage!" The apparent leader of the group
obnoxiously shouted out with a roaring laugh.
His friends laughed like hyenas in response as they started to surround the man's own form.
The alleyways of Night City were filled with heartless mockery and cruelty.
Their leering gazes were nothing new.
He was one of many in this fucked up city that had less than nothing but the clothes on their back.
No one in this city helps others with pure intentions and he learned that the hard way on his first day in this city.
The man, struggling to keep even the smallest bit of strength within his deprived body, paid no heed to the laughing teenagers. He took another bite of the damned burger instead, wishing it would usher him out of the tormenting presence of the stark reality unfolding around him.
A breadcrumb of comfort in an ocean of sheer contempt.
"Well, ain't he a pathetic sight!" said one of the boys, a near-grown brute with caged animal eyes and hands like meat hooks. He stepped forward, nudging the decrepit man's skinny knee with his steel-toed boot.
The man gave no response, simply wrapping his skeletal fingers tighter around his prize. Starvation gnawed at him mercilessly from the inside out.
He had to eat.
Fuck these kids and their sneering faces.
"You smell like a gong's rot-hole," One of them drawled, smirking as he gave a sharp kick to the dumpster beside him. The harsh metallic thump echoed throughout the alleyway as he easily dented the dumpster, playing a macabre symphony along with their laughter.
Rattled by the sudden noise but refusing to give them any satisfaction, he didn't even as much as flinch. He kept his eyes fixated on his lifeline - the half-eaten burger.
The more they laughed and taunted him, the more violently his battered pride warred with his survival instincts.
"Shouldn't we leave it some water too?" a girl jeered mockingly while pointing towards a rusting pipe leaking filthy water at the other end of the alleyway, not thinking of him as a person but an 'it'.
"No need for that choom," interrupted another one, possibly younger than others judging from his shrill voice. He kicked over a near-empty bottle of cheap booze lying near his foot. "Our friend here can have my share."
With a malicious glint in their eyes, they watched it roll over to the man's feet only stopping after hitting against his worn-out shoes. He considered ignoring it and perhaps he would have if not for this single truth - in Night City, humiliation is better than dying from starvation or thirst.
The leader squatted down in front of him, a smug smirk playing on his lips as he relished in the spectacle of the adult's misery. With a swift movement, he callously swatted the burger out of the degraded man's hand and watched as it landed beside him.
He tried to reach for it again but stopped when the punk-ass teenager sadistically stomped on the burger.
"That's enough for you," he drawled lazily, before cackling in raucous mirth as if he'd just done something incredibly amusing. "Why don't you do this crowded city a favor and flatline already~?"
His friends followed suit, their laughter reverberating off the grimy alley walls and filling up every damn corner. Infuriatingly loud, harshly insensitive — creating an aura of vileness that made even the shit on the walls seem less revolting.
Having had their fill of tormenting the man when they got no reaction out of him, the teenagers walked away crackling all the while.
The alley was once again silent as the city's noise began to fill the alley that was once filled with mocking laughter.
Alone among echoes, his ears rang with their cruelty. But agony was now only a ghost of an echo in the hollow halls of his mind. The searing pain of hunger and humiliation had long since given way to an unyielding rage.
He may be far from the man he once was when he arrived in this damn city, but the hate-filled glare he gave everything around him would have caused even the most hardened mercenary to flinch.
Looking down at the squashed burger that was once his lifeline, a deathly calmness washed over him. He glared at the fast-food grave, sunk deeper into the pavement by the steel-toed boot of apathy.
The uneaten portions of the much-needed meal were no longer recognizable amongst the grime, reduced to an unidentifiable slurry under the weight of every stomp.
Damn this city.
Damn, its fucking people.
AND DAMN HIM FOR THINKING HE COULD CHANGE IT!
FOR THINKING HE COULD HELP IMPROVE THE LIVES OF EVERYONE JUST BECAUSE HE WAS HERE!!!
The memories of him unexpectedly arriving in Night City and the hope and naivety he had felt in his heart now seemed like a cruel joke. The idealistic version of him that stepped foot in this cesspool was long dead, replaced by this gnarled, bitter shell.
He had nothing to help him, no powers, no cheats.
Just the clothes on his back.
He stretched out his hand toward the remains of the crushed food. His fingertips brushed over the sticky, trampled mess.
His meal. His fucking lifeline! It may have been salvaged from a dumpster, but it was his, his only chance at staving off the hunger gnawing at him from within.
He clenched his fist tightly, asphalt grating harshly against the skin of his palm. The pain radiated through his hand into his arm, a light flicker of sensation in an otherwise numb shell he occupied. It felt good - real, tangible rather than just the abstract misery he was living.
His bloodshot eyes hardened, a semblance of fire returning to them as he looked back toward the direction where those teenagers had disappeared.
He would find them again.
Yeah, he'll find them and give them a real taste of Night City life they hadn't experienced yet. A taste that will make their teenage fun seem like a joyous memory - the coldest slice from the cyberpunk pie he himself had gorged on without any choice.
His gut twisted violently, whether from hunger or rage, he wasn't sure.
He ripped a piece of cloth from his already torn shirt to dress his bleeding hand and stood up slowly, leaning on the cold metal of the dumpster supporting him.
Thoughts of revenge and the burning rage died as his stomach growled painfully.
Once more, he was reminded of his immediate need. Food was the basic requirement for survival that he'd taken for granted back in the days of his naive dreams. Dreams of grandeur, dreams of a city tamed by justice and fairness.
Back then, it had seemed so achievable, so simple.
That man he once was.
He would have never pictured himself starved in an alleyway with no more than battered pride to quell the clawing pain in his gut.
His thoughts suddenly turned to his favorite fruit, a mango.
Oh, how he longed for one now!
A lush tropical breed from the days when he didn't know what it meant to starve. He could almost taste it! The sweet, tangy pulp exploding in his mouth, its juice dribbling down his chin without any care for the mess it made...
His laughing mother would come over with a towel and clean him up, her dark eyes twinkling with mirth as she admonished him gently - an image so vividly clear that another pang tore at him.
A pang that wasn't physical this time.
It was a craving deeper than mere physical sustenance. The craving for a time simpler than now. When he had been loved. When food - fresh, bountiful food - and laughter were regular dinner guests.
He shook his head, violently tearing away from the past's warm embrace that threatened to make him forget his current cold predicament.
Now wasn't the time for reminiscing.
He had promises to keep. Promises made to himself when he arrived; a vow of survival, revenge, and bringing about change in this godforsaken city.
But the thought of his favorite fruit didn't leave him.
The bright colors of the mango, its vibrant yellows and reds etched into his mind's eye and summoned a small flicker of warmth to his shivering body. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth, craving to dance around the flavorful delight that was a ripe mango.
His hand twitched, longing to feel the smooth surface of the fruit against his skin; craving to dig his fingers into it, peeling back its smooth exterior to reveal the golden treasure beneath.
His nostrils flared slightly at the thought, vividly recalling the intoxicating aroma that filled the air when a mango was split open. A blend of sweet citrus and earthy fragrance that would linger and stand out in stark contrast to the metallic stench of trash he now resided in.
It was an almost cruel paradox that this symbol of his former life should offer salvation now in his darkest hour.
He imagined carving into the sunburst flesh, anticipating the burst of juice that would invariably escape from its delicate confines. The ecstasy of his teeth sank into the fibrous pulp, releasing nature's serenade of sunshine and soil.
His mouth watered pathetically at the mere thought, eyes unfocused and glazed as if in a heated trance. Without thinking, he found himself reaching out as though he could capture his vivid imagination and bring it to fruition in his desperate reality.
His hand clenched around... something.
"What the fuck?"
In disbelief, he looked down to find a fruit resting in his tattered palm. Its bright skin glowing like a beacon within the cobblestone gloom vivid against the backdrop of darkened grease-stained walls and grim reality.
A gasp escaped from deep within him, echoing down the claustrophobic corridor created by towering buildings on either side. He blinked several times, tears pricking at the corner of his eyes for possible reasons more than one as he slowly extended a thumb to press against its skin.
A mango. A real, genuine mango sat nestled in his dirty palm as surreal as life itself.
His eyes widened in shock unable to believe what they were seeing while a senseless chuckle slipped past his lips.
He had entered Night City armed only with dreams wrapped around a burning desire.
He had seen magic cast by the neon lights of the city and Cyberware but never expected to find it within himself - born out of an obsessive craving for something as simple and yet precious as a mango.
An overwhelming emotion surged through him then - incredulous joy or insane desperation, he wasn't quite sure. But it was potent and raw like nothing he had felt before.
His teeth bite into the flesh, savoring the sweet, juicy pulp that seemingly appeared out of nowhere. The tangy taste exploded in his mouth, as real and vivid as his previous memories. The divine sweetness brought tears to his eyes, ushering a moment of profound ecstasy that stood in stark juxtaposition to the darkness that surrounded him.
His hand trembled around it, not knowing whether he'd go mad from the divine taste lingering on his tongue or the impossible existence of the fruit he held.
Every bite into the succulent fruit was a burst of memory - of a past life filled with joy and simplicity. His mother's laughing face, familial warmth, and forgotten comfort all came rushing back to him unbidden, stronger than ever before.
And yet there was an underlying bitterness that sharply contrasted with the sweetness - a reminder of how far he'd fallen. The joyful memories became a cruel mockery in the brutal reality of Night City. This piece of fruit highlighted the vast chasm between who he was then and what he'd become.
Tears mingled with the juices flowing down his face as hidden emotions came rushing to the surface, giving voice to a yearning he had nearly forgotten existed.
The euphoria was short-lived; however, as he bit down on the seed nestled inside, its hard surface pulled him back into reality. The mango was gone, consumed eagerly in longing moments.
He longingly licked at the remnants clinging to his lips - nature's lingering kiss that revived vital strings within him.
Hunger ebbed away momentarily but its ghost remained as an unpleasant reminder of what he faced every day.
For a few precious minutes, he allowed himself to bask in this brief respite, feeling a piece of his long-lost home return to him in this harsh cityscape.
This changes everything.