A/N: So I redownloaded cyberpunk and played V as a netrunner to help me write better stuff, and I got a good perspective on how netrunners operate. For example one of you told me that Teo should use cars as like puppets and shoot quick hacks from them like the cameras in game. YAH I COMPLETLY FORGOT ABOUT THAT. Now that I think about it netrunners are lowkey op, they just launch quick hacks from literally every ware.
Also this is how Imagine netrunners fighting in cyberspace let me know your thoughts.
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The door to the bar swung open, spilling a sliver of neon into the dim hall below. Teo's eyes, already adjusting to the gloom, locked onto Gary, the Valentino who practically lived at the bar from three PM to three AM. "Gary! Vamos! Help me out for a sec!" Teo hollered across the bar.
Gary, who had been laughing and nursing a drink, turned to Teo, his broad face instantly serious. He nodded, pushing off the bar stool, and followed Teo down the steel steps, their boots clanking rhythmically into his basement lair.
They stepped into the main room, a cavern of exposed pipes, humming servers, and a chaotic sprawl of cabling. Holographic schematics flickered across one wall, while rows of antique monitors glowed with data streams. "Wachya need, Teo?" Gary grunted, his voice a low rumble.
Teo gestured towards the netrunning rig. "I need you to monitor my deep dive. Make sure I don't flatline, jack me out if you see me convulsing." He indicated the workstation Gary already stood before.
Gary's fingers, thick and calloused, moved with surprising speed across the keyboard, bringing up Teo's vitals, already connected via his biomonitor implant. A steady green line pulsed on the screen. "Got it, choom. I'll help ya out." Gary settled into a worn armchair facing the deep dive tub, pulling a cigarette from behind his ear and lighting it with a soft click, a thin plume of smoke curling towards the low ceiling.
Teo shrugged off his clothes, letting them fall in a heap, and stepped into the ice tub. The cold hit him first, a bracing shock as he lowered himself into the makeshift bath. Steam, thin and ephemeral, curled off his skin even as he shivered.
The secure packet doc Maine had sent earlier contained the encrypted login. He quickly typed the credentials into his console, his fingers flying over the holographic keys, then, with practiced ease, slammed the neural jack into the port behind his ear.
The real world dissolved.
The transition was instantaneous, violent. Teo's consciousness exploded into the Net, not the clean, pristine corporate highways, but the raw, screaming chaos of Pro Tek Security Solutions' dying network.
It was a digital graveyard, data packets bleeding into corrupted streams, firewalls flickering like dying embers, and the pervasive, sickening hum of the malware spreading its digital cancer.
His avatar manifested, a sleek, shadowy form that rippled with static and blurred edges, his face a shifting mosaic of digital noise, deliberately glitched for anonymity. "Alright, Fucker," Teo thought, his voice a clean line in the digital cacophony. "The fuck we looking at?"
"Initial assessment: Total network integrity, 17% and rapidly declining, choom," Fucker chirped in his internal comms, an overlay appearing in Teo's vision, glowing red lines indicating corrupted sectors, blinking yellow for active malware. "Target, Adaptive malware, highly aggressive, signature unrecognized. Counter netrunner presence confirmed. Engaging primary threat actor in Sector Gamma 7, near central data core. Analysis suggests… she's struggling."
Teo ghosted through the crumbling firewalls, his optics cutting through the digital noise. The malware was a beast, its architecture resembling black, thorny vines strangling data nodes, pulsating with a malevolent, sickly green light. It was designed to corrode, to overwhelm through sheer, relentless pressure.
Then he saw her. In Sector Gamma 7, amidst a swirling maelstrom of corrupted data, another avatar danced. It was a blur of silver and blue, constantly shifting, impossible to pin down, a truly elusive presence. She was fast, moving with a fluid grace that spoke of mastery, dodging digital shrapnel and lashing out with whips of pure code. But the opposing force was immense.
The enemy netrunner's avatar was a towering, blocky figure, armored in obsidian code, its core pulsing with the same malevolent green as the malware. His digital constructs slammed into the girl's defenses, forcing her back, compressing her movements. She was parrying, deflecting, never quite able to land a decisive blow. A particularly nasty burst of code slammed into her avatar, making it flicker violently, a momentary ripple distorting its form.
She recovered, but Teo saw the drain on her internal RAM, the subtle slowing of her evasions. She was good, damn good, but she was being matched by an equally good netrunner.
"Target identified," Fucker confirmed, a glowing red reticle locking onto the antagonist. "Core programming signature unique. Active digital combatant. Threat level, Extreme."
He pushed RAM into his COX 2 Cybersomatic Optimizer, feeling the surge as his neural pathways hyper optimized for pure quickhack lethality. His glitched avatar solidified, taking on a heavier, more defined presence in the digital space.
"Alright, Fucker," Teo thought, his resolve cold and sharp. "Let's show this gonk what a real sync up looks like. Prep Overheat. Target his primary firewall."
Without warning, a wave of incandescent, emerald green code erupted from Teo's avatar, slamming into the enemy's defense ICE. The brute's obsidian armor glowed red, its internal systems screaming with digital heat. The unexpected assault made the antagonist stagger, his relentless attack on the girl momentarily faltering.
(I'm going to make defense ICE custom so everybody who uses it designs it a different way, Like for the enemy runner its obsidian armor, for Teo its a green crow.)
That was all she needed. Seeing the shift, the momentary weakness, the silver blue blur of her avatar spun, abandoning defense for a lightning fast counter attack. A torrent of razor sharp code, precise and deadly, erupted from her, finding gaps torn open by Teo's Overheat. It slammed into the enemy's digital joints, making him convulse as his internal data structures twisted.
"He's vulnerable!" Teo mentally roared to Fucker. "Hit him with System Glitch! Cascade failure, now!"
Fucker responded instantly. A wave of disruptive code, a digital EMP, washed over the antagonist. His massive form flickered, fragments of his avatar tearing away like digital shrapnel. His controls seized, his movements becoming erratic.
Now it was a true digital pummeling. Teo moved in, a storm of quickhacks and daemons. He launched Data Spikes, each one a concentrated blast of corrupting code that shattered segments of the enemy's digital ICE armor.
He uploaded Short Circuit, making the brute's internal processes seize and spark. The girl, sensing his rhythm, became a digital phantom, weaving through the chaos, her code whips lashing out with surgical precision, exploiting every opening Teo created. She would slice through a data link, and Teo would follow up with an Overload, pushing raw energy into the severed connection, making the broken segment scream with digital pain.
The enemy netrunner roared, a digital shriek of pure agony and confusion as his avatar degraded. His massive form was breaking down, dissolving into streams of corrupted data. His counter-attacks became desperate, wild bursts of code easily sidestepped.
They were a perfectly synchronized, destructive force, each anticipating the other's moves without a single word. Digital "blood," in shades of purple and black, sprayed across the Pro-Tek network as the enemy's avatar was systematically torn apart, code tearing free from his core.
Teo's avatar landed next to the female avatar, his comm system automatically attempting to bridge. A direct comm line flickered between them, voice filters distorting their true tones. "Howdy," Teo's synthesized voice crackled, even as he flung a Short Circuit that the runner, with a desperate surge of code, slapped away with a shield of data.
"Who the fuck are you?" her distorted voice snapped back, pulling up her own shimmering digital ICE Barrier, deflecting an incoming quickhack flung from the antagonist's wrist that was heading for both of them.
(Think of ward spell from Skyrim.)
"Maine sent me! Said you're running low on time, hired me to assist. Lower!" Teo yelled. Without a second's hesitation, the girl dropped her barrier, and as soon as that happened, Teo flung a rapid fire Code Bind that restricted the antagonist's movements for a split second, wrapping him in glowing, constricting data.
The female avatar, seeing the opening, launched forward like a coiled spring and whipped the guy with a concentrated Code Whip to the chest, watching as he convulsed once again.
Finally, with a combined surge from both their cyberdecks, a final, devastating quickhack from Teo ripping through the enemy's core and a lightning fast data siphon from the girl stripping him bare, the enemy's avatar exploded. It wasn't a clean deletion. It was a brutal, gruesome digital dismemberment.
Code scattered, dissipating into nothingness. The malevolent green light that had permeated the network began to recede, replaced by a dull, flickering yellow as Pro Tek's remaining systems struggled to stabilize.
The digital battlefield was silent. Teo's avatar, slightly smoking, stood amidst the wreckage. Across from him, the silver blue blur of the girl's avatar shimmered. For a long moment, they simply stood, facing each other across the devastated network, two anonymous warriors who had just unleashed hell together.
Teo spoke up first, his voice still distorted. "Well, that guy is either flatlined or overheating. We cooked his cyberware with that last cyberattack."
The female avatar shifted, her voice laced with an audible bite. "I didn't need you. I had this handled."
Teo smirked, a digital ripple crossing his masked face. "Didn't look like it. Hah. Whatever. Even if you did manage to beat the guy yourself, his malware would've fucked the entire system. I guess you're welcome for securing your team's eddies."
The girl's avatar didn't respond further, but an obvious wave of intense dislike permeated the shared digital space. Then, without another word, she dissolved, slipping away as quickly as she'd appeared.
"Target neutralized, choom," Fucker announced, its voice almost reverent. "Origin signature acquired. Commencing data extraction for kill key analysis. That was… surprisingly elegant. For you."
Teo ignored the last jab, a surge of adrenaline still coursing through his systems even as the cold of the bathtub began to truly sink in. He quickly set Fucker to work on siphoning the necessary data, his mind already shifting from combat to analysis.
The digital world crashed, leaving Teo's mind feeling like raw circuitry, scraped clean by a digital sandblaster. This wasn't the dull ache of the AI's data signature, those had gotten slightly better.
This was a searing, white hot agony that made his vision swim, like his very brain was being flash-fried. He clamped a hand to his temple, clenching his teeth, letting Fucker process the last few critical commands. A green wisp of data, Fucker's agile avatar, zipped through the residual digital debris, gathering the final kill key data before dissolving. It then morphed into a cat, a green cat.
"GOT IT." Fucker's voice, was a playful chirp, It was almost piercing burst in his mental comms.
Teo flinched, physically jumping in the ice bath. "DAMN! Alright, no need to yell. I'm logging." He pulled the neural jack, and his consciousness, raw and frayed, was violently yanked back from the screaming Net. The world slammed back into place, a jarring explosion of cold water and the humming of his own cyberware.
He found himself shivering, dripping wet, the headache that followed the unjack insane. His head felt like it was on fire, every nerve ending screaming.
"Pain detected. Running diagnostics, bitch" Fucker's voice was now calm, clinical, inside his head, before going silent as it analyzed Teo's biological and cybernetic systems.
He hauled himself out of the tub, water sluicing off his skin, and stumbled onto the cold concrete floor, holding a hand to his throbbing head. Gary was already there, his large frame blocking the fluorescent light from the bar above. He moved quickly, wrapping a thick, scratchy towel around Teo. "Damn, chico, you alright?" Gary's voice was low, laced with concern, as he looked at Teo's pale, sweat slicked face.
"Fine," Teo rasped, already drying off his body with the towel. "Probably cyberware overuse. Pushed it hard." He slipped on his usual clothes, that were still lying in a heap on the floor.
Fucker's smooth, calm voice returned, confirming his suspicion. "Cyberware analysis complete. Zetatech 'Phantom' Cyberdeck detected significant thermal output. SpecterNet Optics processing strain, optimal performance exceeded by 27%. COX 2 Cybersomatic Optimizer sustained critical load. Suggest immediate installation of a deep dive neural implant to lessen the direct cranial load."
Teo snorted, a bitter laugh. "Yup, definitely getting that implant. Brain feels like it was deep fried in Szechuan sauce noodles." He sat down heavily in his netrunning chair, leaning back, trying to will the throbbing in his skull to subside. Gary, who had been watching him with a knowing gaze, turned. "Alright, if you still don't need me, I'll head back upstairs." Teo nodded, watching his disappearing form.
Then, the familiar ring. Maine. Teo's eyes, still aching, flared with a different kind of intensity. He accepted the call.
"Teo here," he said, his voice a little hoarse, but he felt his headache somewhat recede as he leaned back into the chair, anticipating the good news.
"Teo, good work," Maine's voice boomed, satisfaction clear in the gravelly tone. "The running part is finished." Teo made a soft "hm" of agreement. "You still gotta flatline the runner, right? Or was the job just to defend the system?" Teo asked, cracking his neck with a soft pop, a nervous habit.
"Yeah, don't worry about the cleanup," Maine cut in, a grim relish in his voice. "As soon as my runner logged, she pinged the gonk's location and sent it to us. We raided the fat fuck's little apartment in Watson. Flatlined him, though he was pretty fucked up from your guys' assault. Skin was melting from his chrome like caramel, preem sight." There was a brief pause, a satisfied sigh from Maine. "Got your payment on a shard, choom. Client only operates that way. If you want your eddies now, come to the food truck spot in Santo Domingo. The usual one we hit."
"Got it. Be there in a few," Teo said, disconnecting the line. He leaned back in his chair, the full weight of the gig's successful completion settling over him. 'fuck my brain!'
He sighed, a mix of exhaustion and triumph. Then, he got up, walking over to his gear table. He slipped on his orange armored jacket, the synthetic leather supple against his skin. He realized he didn't have a holster that truly fit Bon Bon Mark 2's new extended barrel. The customized Kenshin felt heavy and powerful against his hip as he slid it into his waistband, accepting the slight discomfort for now. 'New holster,' he added to his mental list, 'definitely on the list.'
He walked across his underground lair, past the racks of blinking servers and the silent tub, towards the back door. He climbed the steel steps, emerging into the dim, stale air of the bar's back alley.
He pushed through the main door of the El Coyote Cojo, its dim lights and quiet chatter a stark contrast to the digital war he'd just fought. Out on the street, he keyed the access code to Jackie's garage nearby. The heavy door hissed open with a hydraulic sigh. Inside, Jackie's signature Arch was missing, a pang of quiet familiarity, knowing his cousin was probably out on a gig of his own.
He spotted his own Kusanagi CT 3X, parked neatly in a corner. Parts were scattered around it, tools lying beside fresh, gleaming chrome. Jackie had been teaching him how to work on his bike, a shared ritual of grease and muttered instructions, of familial bond.
Most of the new parts were just to freshen up the bike, making its systems run smoother, its plating shimmer under the streetlights. But one stood out, a new exhaust system, thick and menacing, promising raw, untamed power. He grabbed his new matte black biker helmet, the visor dark and impenetrable, and slid it onto his head, locking it with a soft click.
He straddled the Kusanagi, the cool leather of the seat molding to him. He hit the ignition. VVVVROMM! The startup roared, a deep, guttural growl from the new exhaust that echoed through the small garage and rumbled out into the Night City street.
It was a beast, alive beneath him. He grinned, a private, satisfied smile hidden by his helmet, and pulled out, the garage door hissing shut behind him.
The sky was a bruised purple, permanently stained by light pollution and the perpetual chemical haze, but the streets pulsed with an undeniable, raw energy. He twisted the throttle, and the Kusanagi surged forward, the new exhaust spitting a furious growl, a metallic roar that swallowed the lesser sounds of traffic. He was a dark blur cutting through a symphony of light.
Neon signs from liquor stores, braindance parlors, and noodle stands exploded in his peripheral vision, blinding flashes of crimson, electric blue, and sickly green. Holographic advertisements for corpos like Arasaka and Militech towered over dilapidated tenements, their impossibly bright projections momentarily washing out the grime below.
Headlights from speeding AVs and armored vehicles became streaks of white, momentarily blinding him, forcing his optics to constantly re calibrate, filtering some of the overwhelming glare, but even they couldn't entirely tame Night City's visual assault. Rain slicked the asphalt, turning the street into a fragmented mirror, reflecting every distorted flash of light.
He wove through traffic, a liquid dancer between solid masses of steel and chrome. The Kusanagi, usually a whisper, now bellowed, its roar a defiant challenge to the city's ceaseless drone. He felt the pure, unadulterated freedom of speed, the wind a cold slap against his helmet, washing away the lingering phantom pains of the deep dive. Every turn, every lean, every surge of acceleration was a release, a thrill that grounded him.
The eddies from Maine would hit his account soon. 15 thousand, that was enough for a while. Enough for that deep dive implant Fucker recommended, enough to splurge on some proper Szechuan deluxe supreme hot and sweat extreme noodles. He pushed the Kusanagi faster, the bike a dark comet streaking through the neon constellations of Heywood, then Santo Domingo.
The ride was a cleansing ritual, the chaos of the city mirroring the digital storm he'd just navigated, but here, in the physical, he was in control. He felt the weight of Bon Bon Mark 2 against his hip, a reassuring presence.
He spotted the familiar cluster of food trucks, their colorful lights cutting through the darkness of Santo Domingo. The usual spot. He brought the Kusanagi to a smooth, powerful halt, the engine's roar settling into a satisfied idle. He killed the power, pulling off his helmet, feeling the cool night air on his face, a faint smile playing on his lips.
Time to get paid.
A/N P2- ACTUALLY FUCK THIS SHIT I JUST PRESSED F12 AGAIN AND DELETED ALL MY PROGRESS AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.