Cyberpunk EdgeRunners X Male Reader

Chapter 1 - Welcome to the Jungle

I was caped in my own blood, smudged against the floor alongside the office desk I used as cover. I was hunched over, faint and dizzy. Gunfire hammered all around me, keeping me pinned down with no way of escape. Glancing at my gun, I saw my hand trembling; whether it was from the blood loss or fear was anyone's guess. Then, tightening my grip, I looked ahead, staring at myself in the window; I had a perfect view of Night City, a perfect view of my death.

"What the hell is going on?! Y/N! Y/N, answer God damn it!" Maine barked. My head pivoted to my phone. Wincing, I edged over, sliding my phone back and holding it to my ear. "Y/N?!"

"It seems I've really fucked this mission up, haven't I, boss?"

"We're almost there; just hold on a little longer!"

"Oi, Y/N, I swear to God if you die on me now, I'll fucking kill you." Rebecca snapped.

A stray grenade landed by my feet. Flinching, I lunged for it throwing it back, the explosion echoing out, shattering all of the windows. "Hey, boss... I think I think this might just be it, you know?"

 I cough, crawling to the broken window. Lying on my back, I fired at one attacker, cutting him down. "Man, this is shitty. But even so, I'd do it all over again in a heartbeat if given a chance."

Rising to my feet, I leapt back out the window, firing serval shots and screaming out, plunging to my death...

Life in Night City is anything but a fairytale. People die, and others kill. No one is safe, no matter how much power, money or fame you have. If you are not careful, this city will eat you whole and spit you back out. Even so, most don't care; if you can make it in Night City, you can make it anywhere. That's what my pops told me. Of course, we never agreed on most things, but this was one expectation. 

Like so many others, I learned this the hard way, left to rot and be forgotten, just another statistic for the news to share. But, it wasn't like this. However, I wasn't always hightailing it outside the law putting my life on the line for the cold hard cash. 

It all changed one year ago...

****

"Trauma team approaching the stronghold. The client is Rita Garcia, a known politician working under the mayor's party. She was reported missing two days ago and just twenty minutes ago had her radar ping us; the client appears to be going into a cardiac arrest. Possible hostiles on the scene, be ready, team."

The trauma transport began shaking, breaking my focus. I looked up, seeing the lights flicking on and off with echoes of gunshots blazing out. I looked over my gun, giving it another one over, readying for the worst. "Hey, you."

I looked up to another trauma agent opposite to me. While I couldn't draw out an appearance thanks to our armour, I could tell by his gruff voice he was middle age at the least. "Hmm?"

"I don't think I've seen you around; where were you stationed?"

"Westbrook. Been there six months."

The man scoffed, resting his hands against his gun. "Lucky shit, not everyone has the luxury to deal with hangovers and drug overdoses thanks to obscene parties. You're in the real world now, boy. Welcome to Santo Domingo."

I nod, not too interested in swaying back and forth. "Yup."

Not liking my attitude, he leaned forward. "Can't believe the higher-ups make us babysit these days. We don't get paid enough shit for this. Your stuck-up rich family might have pulled a few strings to get you here, but no one will give you special treatment."

The transport pivoted, already bombarded with gunshots. Twirling my gun, I cocked the safety back, nodding. "Sure. Try and keep up then, and I'll be sure my mummy and daddy give you a generous tip."