Cyberpunk: New Era

OUR PASTS

Two months later, it was just another casual day in Night City—a place where chaos and violence were as common as the neon lights. Gangs constantly clashed, bullets flew, and people either ducked for cover or kept walking like it was no big deal.

In front of a bar, two gangs were going at it, shooting and stabbing each other in a messy, bloody fight. The Red Masks ready to take down anyone who stood in their way. But today, something was off. There wasn't a full squad of gang members from the rival side facing off against them.

There was only one guy. Mikey.

He stood in the middle of the chaos, completely unfazed. The Red Masks came at him with guns blazing, knives flashing in the dim street lights, but Mikey barely flinched. His movements were precise, calculated. He dodged, ducked, and disarmed them one by one, taking them down with a mix of skill and brute force.

To anyone watching, it looked like Mikey was having fun. He was calm, collected, and didn't seem the least bit tired as he dealt with every Red Mask who came his way.

One of the gang members, clearly panicking, yelled out, "Who the hell is this guy?!"

Another thug, bleeding and barely standing, coughed out, "That's Mikey. We're screwed."

Just as Mikey aimed his gun at the leader, he was suddenly hit hard from the side. The force of the blow sent him flying several meters away. He hit the ground, dazed, struggling to get back up. But before he could regain his footing, something big grabbed him by the neck and lifted him off the ground effortlessly.

It was a massive thug, his body overloaded with implants—bulky arms, glowing eyes, and mechanical parts everywhere. The leader laughed, watching as the giant thug tightened his grip around Mikey's throat. "You're done for now," the leader sneered, confident that Mikey was about to meet his end.

But suddenly, the thug jerked, stumbling slightly as something yanked him from behind. Yet, he didn't loosen his grip on Mikey.

"Hey, big guy!" a voice called out from behind the thug.

It was Zach. He had latched onto the thug's neck, using all his strength to pull him backward. Zach's legs were wrapped around the thug's broad shoulders, and his cybernetic arm was gripping the thug's neck like a vice.

"Let... him... go!" Zach grunted, struggling to maintain his grip as the thug swayed, trying to shake him off.

Even though Mikey was in a life or death situation he casually asked," Didn't I told you to rescue and secure the hostage."

Zach grinned, even as he clung to the hulking brute. "The hostage is secured, don't worry!"

The thug roared, swaying violently to shake Zach loose, but Zach held on like a tick. Mikey coughed as the thug's grip finally loosened. The giant tried to reach behind him, metal fingers clawing for Zach.

Before the thug could grab him, Zach gritted his teeth, twisted the thug's neck with a sharp, mechanical hiss—and with a burst of sparks, he yanked the thug's head clean off.

The hulking body staggered, took two clumsy steps forward, and collapsed to the ground with a metallic thud. Zach landed smoothly on his feet, tossing the heavy head aside like a bowling ball.

"Is the hostage alive. We won't get any payment if the hostage is dead"

Zach smirked, brushing dust off his jacket. "Don't worry—safe and sound."

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Even though it had only been two months since Zach joined Mikey, the two were already starting to make a name for themselves. They were experiments of the Corps. Their teamwork clicked in ways neither of them expected, and their jobs were getting bigger—and riskier—with each passing week.