The morning light barely pierced the dense smog hanging over Night City, casting everything in a perpetual twilight. The boy sat at his workstation, hands moving methodically as he worked on a small device. His mind, however, was elsewhere, turning over the scavengers' encrypted messages he'd uncovered.
Target confirmed. Location secured.
It wasn't just the words themselves but the intent behind them. The scavengers weren't petty criminals. They were errand runners for something—or someone—bigger.
The device on his table clicked together with a satisfying snap. It was a signal disruptor, modified from scraps he'd salvaged from the hideout. It wasn't particularly powerful, but it could temporarily knock out local comms or cause minor malfunctions in cyberware.
The drone buzzed softly, its cameras whirring as it scanned the room.
"Don't worry," he muttered to the machine. "This one's not for you."
He couldn't help but chuckle at the thought of the drone taking offense. It was just a tool, a piece of tech. But in the isolation of this new life, it had become something more—a silent partner in his growing plans.
The scavengers wouldn't stay scattered for long. Their leader, Walker, would ensure they regrouped quickly. That left the boy with limited time to act. The hideout raid had given him a foothold, but it was only the first step.
He needed leverage—something to force the scavengers or their buyers to reveal more. He opened the files he'd copied from their terminal, scrolling through transaction logs and delivery manifests.
Most of it was standard fare: stolen cyberware, low-grade weapons, and illegal modifications. But one shipment stood out.
It was marked with a single word: "Prototype."
The logs indicated it was stored in a warehouse on the outskirts of the city, a facility registered under a shell corporation.
That's it, he thought, his pulse quickening. If I can get to that prototype, I might have a bargaining chip.
The warehouse was a stark contrast to the scavenger hideout—cleaner, more organized, but no less dangerous. The boy approached it cautiously, sticking to the shadows as he scoped out the perimeter.
Unlike the scavengers, this place had real security. Cameras scanned the area, drones patrolled overhead, and automated turrets were mounted at key entry points.
Amateurs can't afford this kind of protection, he mused. Arasaka? Militech? Or someone else entirely?
He crouched behind a stack of shipping crates, his mind syncing with the nearest camera. The connection felt sharp, almost hostile, as if the system were resisting his intrusion.
They've got good countermeasures, he noted. But not good enough.
With a mental push, he blinded the camera, looping a feed of an empty corridor. The turrets were next, their targeting systems temporarily scrambled.
The boy moved quickly, slipping through the facility's outer defenses. His heart pounded in his chest, a mixture of fear and exhilaration driving him forward.
Inside, the air was cool and sterile, a faint hum of machinery filling the space. Rows of crates lined the walls, their labels a mix of corporate logos and meaningless numbers.
He reached out with his Technopathy, searching for the prototype. The system resisted, its encryption tighter than anything he'd encountered so far.
"Come on," he muttered under his breath, his mind straining against the digital barriers.
Finally, the system relented, a single file opening before him.
"Unit X-12: NeuroLink Enhancement."
The boy's eyes widened. He didn't know the specifics, but anything labeled "NeuroLink" was bound to be high-end.
The prototype was stored in a secure vault at the back of the warehouse. The door was reinforced with layers of steel and biometric locks.
The boy frowned, his Technopathy probing the security system. It was too advanced for him to brute-force, but he didn't need to.
His fingers danced across the control panel, bypassing the biometric scanner and tricking the system into unlocking the door.
Inside, the prototype sat on a pedestal, its sleek design gleaming under the harsh lights. It was a small device, no larger than a deck of cards, but its purpose was clear.
NeuroLink enhancements were cutting-edge tech, designed to bridge the gap between the human mind and machine. With this, the scavengers—or their buyers—could gain unparalleled control over cyberware.
He reached for the device, his hand hesitating for a moment. Taking it would paint a target on his back, but leaving it behind wasn't an option.
His fingers closed around the prototype, its surface cool to the touch.
The alarm blared before he could leave the vault.
"Dammit," he hissed, his mind racing. The system must have detected his intrusion, triggering a failsafe.
The turrets reactivated, their targeting systems locking onto him as he bolted through the corridors. His Technopathy flared, scrambling their signals long enough for him to slip past.
Drones descended from the ceiling, their mechanical limbs reaching for him. He ducked and weaved, the shotgun in his hands firing bursts of electricity that shorted their circuits.
By the time he reached the exit, his breath was ragged, his body aching from the effort.
The city swallowed him as he disappeared into the night, the prototype tucked safely in his bag.
Back in his apartment, the boy examined the device carefully. The NeuroLink enhancement was unlike anything he'd seen before, its design sleek and alien in its complexity.
His Technopathy struggled to interface with it, the device resisting his attempts to understand its inner workings.
Whoever made this knew what they were doing, he thought.
He set the prototype down, his mind racing. The scavengers wouldn't let this go. Neither would whoever was funding their operations.
But he'd gained something invaluable: leverage.
The boy leaned back in his chair, a faint smile playing on his lips.
One step closer, he thought, the weight of his journey momentarily lifting.
The path ahead was still uncertain, but for the first time, he felt like he had the upper hand.