Friday Night Firefight - A Cyberpunk 2077 Isekai

Friday Night Firefight - Chapter 6

"Quick. Get in. You've only got ten minutes."

Deng ushered me into the tiny hotel room he'd rented and pushed me towards the bathroom. I let my eyes wander around the room as I crossed it and felt my nose wrinkle. The rest of the group that Deng assembled had already cammed themselves in the tiny room, making the place feel cramped and suffocating.

The place that Deng chose was not somewhere I would have stepped foot in in my past life; it wreaked of the previous occupants, the carpet was sticky and seemed to want to get up and follow me with every footstep, and a kaleidoscope of stains covered everything. I doubted that the place employed a cleaning staff. They probably just paid someone to come in once a week to spray the place down with disinfectants.

I jumped into the shower and washed as fast as I could. I had neither the time, nor the soap or stainless-steel brush pads to completely scrape off all the dirt I had accumulated over the past couple days, but I did enough to make myself smell somewhat clean and look passably presentable. Once I finished washing, I grabbed the outfit that Deng had laid out for me on the bathroom sink.

The neon colors looked ridiculous to my eyes and the clothes were obviously meant for someone much heavier than me – the pants kept sliding down my waist and Deng hadn't thought to bring a belt with him. But the clothes were clean and in a style that teenagers around Watson preferred. I wouldn't stand out too much walking around, despite all the misgivings I had over how I looked.

It had only taken me four minutes from when I entered the room until I finished showering and changing. Once I was presentable, I stepped out of the bathroom. Deng gave me a quick once over and a nod. That was the sign for everyone to get ready. He tossed me a bag that I slung over my shoulder and the entire team filed out of the hotel.

The past two weeks had been an educational experience for me. During the day, Fred and I wandered out to the shoreline with a few other homeless from around Watson. We'd scrounge through the bags of trash that had been dumped there, searching for anything of value we could turn into eddies. Our goods either went to Frank, who was always willing to buy quality scrap from us that he'd then fix up and sell in his stall, or to the various Kabuki Roundabout vendors who went crazy over any piece of tech, no matter how broken or outdated it was. Whenever we found a TV, computer, BD wreath, projector, or anything else with even a modicum of electronics in it, we'd make our way to the Roundabout and sell everything.

Fred and I also picked up the odd jobs every now and then. We mostly did manual labor for local small business owners. We'd sweep out buildings, move inventory from storage spaces to store fronts, and clear trash away from shop entrances.

Fred and Mor had become a constant presence in my life, schooling me on the finer points of living in Watson. They'd explain which gangs controlled different drug corners, which buildings had Scav presences – make sure to stay away from them – which small time gangoons were building up their numbers to try and make a push for territory. I treated their lessons like gospel, slowly acclimating to life in the city. I was no longer the naïve kid who had been mugged within my first ten minutes of getting off the train. Now I was someone who could be relied upon when older members of the alcove came up with gigs. That was how I came to work with Deng.

He terrified me the first time we met. Mor had introduced us one night at the alcove. Something about the way he looked at me made me feel like prey who should run and hide in the face of a new and unknown threat. If Tomas was constantly hanging around Deng, it stood to reason why he never saw Greater Than as any kind of serious threat. Deng was...different.

For one, he was ancient. Around 70 years old or older. The age lines carved deep in his face spoke of a life lived hard. His shrunken body was hidden behind numerous layers of clothing. His arms were thin and wiry, and his cheeks were gaunt. But despite all that, he still carried a certain aura about himself. It took me a bit to figure out what I was feeling, but I eventually realized that Deng carried himself like someone who was supremely confident in their ability to kill anyone and everyone around. Of all the dangerous people I had come across since popping into this world – the Wraiths, the Biotechnica commandos, the NCPD, Dennis, Greater Than – only Deng was someone I was subconsciously terrified of.