Cybergate 2027 - A Baldur's Gate 3 / Cyberpunk 2077 Crossover

I

The mutilated drow lay splayed on the carpet, taunting her to comprehend its final living moments.

"Fourteen times."

"What?" Lae'zel said, her mind filled with a storm of thoughts. The many blood sputters suggested the killer had surprised the purple-skinned victim. Despite his fit body, one swift stab to the chest had debilitated him, followed by a series of violent slashes. Still, the attack wasn't pure madness. The murderer toyed with the victim, deriving pleasure from snuffing his life. In a way, they were also toying with her, daring her to catch up.

"Fourteen wounds, Enforcer. Thirteen are superficial—"

"I can see that myself, Detective," she said, snarling at Wyll.

The tall, athletic, dark-skinned freelance investigator nodded, smiling. The gentle evening light, coming through the bedroom window, reflected off his cybernetic right eye. "Of course. I just meant that our serial killer did that before."

"I know what happened before, Freelancer. I was there."

The crime scenes were different, though. The posh apartment they were standing in, tucked inside a quiet neighbourhood, populated mostly by bourgeois couples, proved an excellent killing ground. First, it was soundproof, but in addition, nobody in the building had suspected visitors of harbouring foul motives. Not even the security guard downstairs, whom the murderer had knocked out before stealing the camera footage.

Wyll raised his hands. "No disrespect intended, Enforcer. I'm merely trying to get us on the same wavelength."

Too slow, too dumb, constantly outmanoeuvred by the killer... Rage rose inside Lae'zel. "I don't care for wavelengths, Detective. I want to catch this murderous istik!"

He flashed an annoyingly polite smile. "You know, that word is considered derogatory."

"Yes, that's why I'm using it." She crouched beside the corpse, grating her teeth. "This person deserves an execution, so shut it about unpleasant words."

"If you don't mind me saying, Enforcer, why are you taking this so personally?"

"The third victim—remember her?"

He ran his fingers through his onyx dreadlocks. "Yes, the young Githyanki."

"We grew up in the same Creche." That would have to do. Her true motivation was too private, too painful to reveal.

"Oh," Wyll said, staring suspiciously with his red-tinted cybernetic implant. "But you were somewhat, you know, on edge even before that case."

"I don't remember asking you for a personality analysis, Detective." She refocused on the body. The blood pattern and the wounds suggested a curved knife, nearly twenty centimetres long. Two fingers were missing, and so were the lips. Perverted trophies, reminders of the grisly act. The k'chakhi murderer even sent Ultracorp Police one as a sick tease—an eyeball. Previously, she caught two killers because they sold snuff videos of their accomplishments in the Underweb. That one, though, kept everything private.

"Lae'zel?"

"What?!"

Wyll flashed another irritating smile. "I thought, you know, afterward, maybe... if you're not busy—"

"Speak!"

"Yes, so, there's this bar in the neighbourhood. I was thinking we could sit over a beer there and talk."

"About the case?"

The freelance detective shrugged. "Or about, you know, whatever."

How awkward... but she could've used the company while her mind pondered the evidence. "I reluctantly accept your offer."