The warehouse groaned under the weight of decades of neglect, its metal beams echoing faintly as the boy paced the cracked concrete floor. He stopped beside a stack of rusted shipping containers, his pale features illuminated by the soft blue glow of the drone hovering beside him. The NeuroLink rested on a makeshift table fashioned from an overturned crate, its sleek design at odds with the gritty surroundings.
He leaned against the cold metal, arms crossed, as his thoughts churned.
Elysium Technologies. The name clings to my mind like a thorn. He closed his eyes, recalling the fragments of data he'd uncovered. The company wasn't flashy, not like Arasaka or Militech, but its reach extended further than he'd initially suspected. Rumors of experimental tech, whispers of corporate espionage, and now, the NeuroLink.
They'll come for me again. The thought sent a shiver down his spine. His encounter with the mercenaries was proof enough. They were precise, efficient, and relentless. Elysium had sent professionals, not scavengers, and next time, they wouldn't underestimate him.
The boy pushed off the wall and approached the NeuroLink. Its polished surface reflected his stark white hair and crimson eyes. He crouched, placing a hand on the device. His Technopathy flared instinctively, brushing against the machine's defenses.
Still locked tight.
He had pried open a few layers earlier, but the core remained untouched, guarded by encryption too complex for him to dismantle in one sitting. It wasn't just security—it was layered intentionally, as if to discourage even the most skilled hacker.
The drone chirped softly, pulling his attention to its display. A warning flashed across the screen: Unusual Network Activity Detected.
"Show me," he muttered.
A map of Night City materialized in holographic form, and a faint pulse of red emanated from a building near the city's heart. Elysium Technologies' regional hub.
They're looking for me.
Data streams rippled across the hologram as his Technopathy skimmed the surface of their network. Elysium had ramped up surveillance in the past twenty-four hours, combing through security footage, gang communications, and black-market deals. His skirmish in the alley had drawn more attention than he'd realized.
"They're casting a wide net," he murmured. "Desperate, maybe."
But desperation didn't mean carelessness. Elysium's system was meticulously guarded, their data fortified by firewalls that seemed almost alive. Every probe, every attempted connection was met with resistance, forcing him to withdraw before tripping any alarms.
I can't do this remotely. If I want answers, I'll have to get closer.
Night City pulsed with its usual chaotic energy as the boy slipped through the backstreets, his bag slung tightly over one shoulder. The drone zipped ahead, its sensors scanning the area for potential threats. He kept his head low, his stark appearance masked by a hood and dark clothing.
His destination was an abandoned transit station that had once been a hub for corporate workers. Now it was a ruin, a skeleton of its former self, but it was close enough to Elysium's hub to serve as a staging ground.
The boy moved quickly, darting between shadows and avoiding the prying eyes of street cameras. His Technopathy buzzed faintly, feeding him data from the area's surveillance grid.
Inside the station, he found a corner free of debris and set up his equipment. The NeuroLink remained in his bag—this mission wasn't about unlocking its secrets. Not yet.
He tapped into the drone's feed, his mind syncing with its sensors. The holographic map of Elysium's hub materialized before him once more, this time overlaid with a web of security measures.
"Show me vulnerabilities," he whispered, his Technopathy diving into the network's fringes.
The drone highlighted a service tunnel leading to the building's basement. It was marked as decommissioned, but the faint hum of energy readings suggested otherwise.
That's my way in.
The tunnel was damp and claustrophobic, its walls slick with grime. The boy moved cautiously, the shotgun strapped to his back offering a small sense of security. The drone floated ahead, its lights dimmed to avoid detection.
As he neared the building's foundation, he reached out with his Technopathy, brushing against the edges of Elysium's network. The resistance was immediate, the system bristling with active defenses.
They're paranoid. Good.
It meant they were afraid—afraid of what he could do, of what he knew.
He found an access panel near the end of the tunnel and pried it open. Inside was a tangle of wires and circuits, all connected to the building's primary systems. He placed a hand on the panel, letting his Technopathy flow through the connections.
The network resisted, pushing back with aggressive firewalls and countermeasures, but he pressed on. His consciousness slipped into the digital realm, navigating through layers of code.
The data he uncovered was fragmented, but it painted a grim picture. Elysium wasn't just developing the NeuroLink—they were mass-producing it. Dozens of prototypes, each more advanced than the last, were being tested on unwilling subjects.
The boy's stomach churned as he accessed the test logs. Names, faces, and grim outcomes flashed before him. Most of the subjects hadn't survived, their minds overwhelmed by the NeuroLink's invasive connection.
One name stood out among the others: Subject Zero.
Unlike the others, Zero had survived. The logs didn't explain how or why, but the implications were clear. Elysium had succeeded, at least partially, and they were determined to replicate that success.
An alert jolted him back to reality. His intrusion had been detected.
"Damn it," he hissed, pulling away from the panel.
The sound of heavy boots echoed down the tunnel, accompanied by the mechanical whir of drones.
The boy grabbed his shotgun and moved quickly, his Technopathy scrambling the tunnel's security cameras as he retreated.
The mercenaries were close—too close. He could hear their voices, their orders clipped and professional.
"Fan out. Secure the asset. No lethal force unless necessary."
Asset? He gritted his teeth. They don't even see me as a person.
The first mercenary rounded the corner, his cybernetic arm raised and ready to fire. The boy didn't hesitate, pulling the trigger. The shotgun roared, the blast knocking the man off his feet.
The second mercenary fired back, the corridor lighting up with bursts of energy. The boy ducked behind a support beam, his mind racing as he searched for a way out.
The drone zipped overhead, targeting the mercenaries with its taser. It struck one of them in the neck, sending him crumpling to the ground.
But more were coming. Their movements were coordinated, their tactics precise.
I can't win this fight, the boy realized. Not here.
He reached out with his Technopathy, tapping into the building's power grid. The lights flickered and dimmed as he overloaded the system, plunging the tunnel into darkness.
The mercenaries hesitated, their vision obscured by the sudden blackout. The boy took advantage of the chaos, slipping past them and into the open night.
He didn't stop running until he was miles away, his chest heaving as he leaned against a crumbling wall. The NeuroLink felt heavier than ever, its presence a constant reminder of the danger he was in.
But he had learned something valuable.
Elysium wasn't just creating tools—they were creating weapons. The NeuroLink was part of a larger plan, and whatever they were planning with Subject Zero was the key.
The boy clenched his fists, his resolve hardening.
If they think they can hunt me, they're wrong. I'll find Subject Zero. I'll find out what they're hiding. And when the time comes, I'll make them regret ever coming after me.