An Ordinary Day in Night City

Part 1

It was just another ordinary day in Night City. Acid rain, tawny and relentless, poured down, leaving the streets desolate with only a handful of pedestrians hurrying by. At the corner of Sakura Market, Mew arrived as promised, meeting his fixer at a Mexican diner named La Pasión.

Before stepping inside, Mew left his umbrella on the counter by the door and wiped his shoes on the doormat. Ever since corrosion-resistant skin implants became widespread, Night City’s residents seldom used umbrellas to shield from acid rain. But Mew was a sentimental soul, and the umbrella also served as a handy barrier against prying, malicious eyes.

Inside the diner, a cacophony of noise hung in the air, grating on the nerves. As expected, the owner was once again boasting to the drinkers about his "pride and joy"—a chipped, paint-peeling guitar displayed front and center. He claimed it was the very one Johnny Silverhand had used for his street performances here before he made it big. With Johnny long dead and buried, there was no one to refute the claim.

Behind the bar, the bartender poured a drink for a cynical young man, listening as he ranted about the corruption of the city government and the NCPD. This corner diner had a quirky tradition: it had no menu, yet could cook up any dish you named. As for where the ingredients came from? No one cared. In this age, only the elite could afford natural food, and the patrons here were mostly mercenaries, black market traders, and gang bangers from all over the world—they only cared if the food tasted as authentic as it did back home. Not to mention, you could sip pre-Second Corporate War wine smuggled from Mexico at a fraction of the market price. It was no wonder the place was always packed, buzzing with all manner of gossip and intel, and why fixers loved conducting business here.

Mew knew the place like the back of his hand. After exchanging a glance with the owner, he cut straight to the chase: "Where is he?"

The owner didn’t answer directly, only his eyes drifting toward the back of the aisle. Following his gaze, Mew spotted the fixer sitting in a nondescript corner.

Mew shoved past a drunken patron, squeezed his way through the narrow aisle with some effort, and took a seat across from the fixer. The diner’s booth seats were worn thin, the metal springs underneath digging uncomfortably into his back.

"I ordered something random—hope it’s to your taste," the fixer said, sliding a Nuke-Cola hot dog across the table to Mew. "New Year’s is around the corner. Got any plans?"

"Who even celebrates the New Year anymore," Mew muttered, taking a few bites. "Let’s get down to business. You got a job for me?"

"Love your no-nonsense attitude," the fixer said, chewing his food slowly before suddenly spitting it all into the trash can by the table. He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his mouth, speaking only when he was done. "I don’t know the full details. The client just wanted a merc they could trust absolutely, so I recommended you—said you’re the best in Westbrook..."

"Hey, I haven’t agreed yet. You know I don’t take jobs with no details."

"Don’t be in a hurry. This is a big payday," the fixer said, a crafty grin spreading across his face as a blue glint flashed in his eyes. "Here’s the advance deposit."

Mew’s optical implant pulled up a payment window—10,000 Eurodollars, in full. Stunned by the sum, he verified the transfer several times to make sure his account hadn’t been tampered with by a quickhack.

"Color me intrigued. Who’s footing this kind of bill?"

"Told you, I don’t know. If you want answers, go ask them yourself—I’ll send the location now."

"Want me to meet the client in person? That’s not how we do things in this line of work."

"Rules are made to be broken. You’ll understand when you get there... Alright, I’ve got other business. Gotta run. Enjoy your meal." Before Mew could press further, the fixer stood up, clapped him on the shoulder, and left the diner.

Outside, the fixer let out a long sigh of relief. A video call came through just then, and his face broke into a warm smile in an instant. "My baby girl, Daddy’s missed you something fierce."

On the other end of the line, a girl of fifteen or sixteen sounded cross. "When are you coming home to stay with me?"

"Soon, sweetie, soon. Just finished a business deal," he said.

"Why are you still working on New Year’s?" the girl muttered, turning her head away.

"Can’t slack off this time of year—money’s easy to make when everyone’s distracted," the fixer explained with a laugh, glancing down the distant street. Dusk had fallen, and holographic lanterns outside the shops flickered to life one by one, draping the once dismal street in the festive red of the New Year.

Part 2

Mew picked his way carefully through several grim, shadowy blocks. Night had fallen completely, and the dim alleyways put him on high alert. He glanced around— the outer walls of the derelict skyscrapers were covered in eerie graffiti. Mew lightened his step, moving almost silently; he had no desire to draw attention, not in this neighborhood, infamous as a Scavenger stronghold.

His destination was a run-down motel, its walls pockmarked and corroded by acid rain, seemingly built back at the turn of the century. It left Mew perplexed: whoever could drop 10,000 Eurodollars as a deposit (and probably a lot more, with who knew how much skimmed by that damn fixer) surely wouldn’t be staying in a dump like this.

The motel lobby lights flickered on and off, a few moths fluttering around the glow like phantoms. The front desk clerk had gaudy, multicolored hair, dressed in a tattered jacket and jeans—Mew couldn’t even tell their gender. When Mew walked in, the clerk barely looked up, just shot him a quick glance before losing interest and returning to their game.

"Acid rain warning. Citizens without corrosion-resistant skin implants are advised to leave the streets immediately and seek shelter..." A wall-mounted TV blared with a spotty signal, its screen fuzzy and distorted, the announcer’s voice crackling with static as it echoed through the room.

Unsurprisingly, the motel elevator was long out of service. The windows in the stairwell hadn’t been opened in years, reeking of mildew. Mew held his breath against the stench as he climbed the stairs, winding through a few twisting hallways before finally finding the right room number.

After a moment’s hesitation, Mew summoned his courage and knocked on the door. There was no answer from inside, but he felt a sharp, burning prickle on his face—he knew he was being scanned.

Two seconds later, the lock clicked, and the door swung open.

Mew stepped inside. The room was small, a bed taking up a third of the space. By the head of the bed was a table serving as a workstation, topped with an old Knight IV computer. Mew’s eyes darted over the clutter on the table: a few out-of-print physical books, a glass filled with soda, several Med-X syringes, a black backpack, and some unidentifiable makeup. A rickety office chair sat in front of the workstation, a coat rack by the door holding a trench coat. Leaning against the bed was a crate filled with modified electronic components only available on the black market. Dominating the center of the far wall was a huge venetian blind, covering most of the surface. Through the slats, Mew saw that the sudden downpour had stopped, mist blurring the colorful neon lights of the commercial district in the distance.

The room’s neatness was jarringly out of place with the shabby motel—and even more out of place was the client, lying on the bed as if asleep. Mew scanned her too, but found no matching data in the NCPD civilian database. That meant one of two things: she was either a wealthy elite’s daughter, or a hacker who knew how to cover her tracks perfectly. Mew approached slowly, pulled out the swivel chair, and sat down by the bed, studying the mysterious girl the fixer had sent him to meet—a girl who clearly didn’t belong here.

The girl fluttered her long, thick eyelashes, and Mew found himself staring, captivated by her pure, clear eyes, like two stars set in her beautiful face. She was stunning, and natural—a far cry from the plastic, implant-enhanced influencer faces you saw in every ripperdoc’s clinic. What struck Mew even more was a faint sense of familiarity, as if he’d seen her somewhere before.

"My apologies for the lack of welcome," the girl said, her lips moving slightly. Her voice should have been soft, yet it rang clear in Mew’s ears.

"Hello. If I’m not mistaken, you’re the client?" Mew stumbled over his words, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "What’s the job?"

The girl didn’t answer, only stretched and stood up. Mew’s gaze lingered on her delicate features again—her eyes were as clear as a spring, seeming to see straight into his soul. It had been years since he’d seen eyes like that in this city.

"Come with me," the girl said, stepping in front of him. She grabbed the black trench coat from the rack by the door and slipped it on. "The road ahead is full of danger. I hope you’re as reliable as the fixer said."

"I swear by the name of David Martinez..." Every merc in Night City knew David—there was even a cocktail named after him at the Afterlife, with the drink description: "Vodka on the rocks in a shot glass, topped with Nuka-Cola. Lived a legend, died a hero." For a merc, though, having a drink named after you at the Afterlife was rarely a good thing—it meant you were six feet under.

Suddenly, the girl froze.

"I was hoping this evening would be just the two of us, but..."

Screech. The silence of the night was shattered by the sharp sound of tires skidding to a halt.

Swipe. Swipe. Swipe. Followed by the metallic shing of katanas being drawn from their sheaths.

"I’m afraid we have uninvited guests," the girl said, her tone unchanged, only her smile fading as she pulled the trench coat tighter around herself.

Had he been tailed on the way here? Mew pulled his Ajax pistol from his jacket, but the girl seemed unfazed, gesturing for him to holster it.

A pack of Tyger Claws had the ramshackle building, hidden in the city’s shadows, surrounded—their oddly painted Arasaka bikes, intimidating yakuza tattoos, and glinting katanas all visible in the dark.

"Kill anyone who stands in our way," the underboss ordered his men over a private comms channel. He stood beside his prized motorcycle, polishing his katana as he listened to the cold, deadly wind.

The motel’s rusted front door was kicked open with a crash, and the Tyger Claw goons filed in, katanas dragging on the floor. The young clerk at the front desk had clearly seen this sort of thing a hundred times—they grabbed the few eddies in the cash register, then ducked their head and cowered on the floor.

"Split up and search! Bring the target in dead or alive!"

The goons split into two groups, scanning every doorway for their prey. Their katanas twirled in their hands, the glowing neon tattoos on their bodies casting an eerie light.

The last goon in line seemed giddy—probably high on some stim—knocking on each door one by one, savoring the occasional scream from inside.

Suddenly, a cold chill ran down his neck, his excitement turning to abject terror. But he had no time to think. Before he could take another breath, a monomolecular wire sliced through his throat, and he was pulled into the darkness.

Another Tyger Claw noticed something was wrong and twisted around to check his back. In the dim light, he couldn’t make out the face beneath the black trench coat’s hood, thinking it was one of his own men.

"Dammit, I told you not to get high before a job, you idiot..."

A sudden scuffle, like a rat darting past his feet. In an instant, he too was decapitated.

One, two, three. The raucous noise the Tyger Claws had made faded to a hush. The goon leading the group turned around—and found only a handful of his men left, staring at each other in shock. A cold dread washed over them all. They clustered in the middle of the hallway, katanas raised, facing every direction, afraid to move an inch.

A smoke grenade rolled to their feet, and the already dim hallway filled with coughing and choking. Then, spinning blades flew out of the smoke, and another goon crumpled to the ground.

"What the hell is going on?!" the underboss shouted in fury from downstairs. The only response over the comms was a few guttural screams, followed by nothing but static.

Fear gripped him. He hesitated, wondering if he should run. Clearly, the intel had been off—way off. But if he abandoned the mission, his rivals would brand him incompetent, a death sentence in the Tyger Claws.

Clatter. Something round rolled to the underboss’s feet. He looked down—and his blood ran cold. It was the head of one of his men, the face still frozen in confusion, as if he hadn’t understood what hit him before he died.

The girl stepped out of the shadows, her left hand resting on her katana’s sheath as she spoke to the fleeing Tyger Claw in Japanese: "Anata wa mada samurai desu ka?" (Are you even a samurai anymore?)

"Baka!" (Bastard!) The underboss flew into a rage, his hand tightening around his katana as the neon tattoos on his arm flared with an unholy light.

They drew their blades at the exact same moment—so fast that even the street surveillance cameras couldn’t capture their movements.

In the next frame, the girl wiped the blood from her katana. The underboss’s blade spun through the air before embedding itself in the ground. He stumbled to his knees, blood pouring from a fatal wound, his leather jacket and glowing tattoos split clean in two by a single strike.

"Done," the girl said, shooting a playful whistle up at Mew, who’d watched the entire fight from upstairs.

Mew descended the stairs and stepped outside the motel—but his brow furrowed. The peace he’d expected never came. Several massive AVs flew in from the distance, hovering in the moonlight, the logo of MaxTac emblazoned on their hulls. Mew knew full well MaxTac didn’t deploy in force just to arrest a few gang bangers. They were here for her. But who exactly was she? Why were both the gangs and the cops hunting her down?

Vroom—

The roar of a motorcycle engine, modified to be even louder. Mew tensed up instinctively. A black motorcycle pulled out of an alley and skidded to a halt in front of him—and the rider was the girl.

"Hurry! Get on! We have to go!"

Mew had just jumped on the back when bullets rained down from above.

"Hold on tight," the girl said, slamming on the throttle. The motorcycle shot forward, carrying them both down the street, the AVs firing relentlessly behind them, leaving a trail of fire and destruction in their wake.

Mew wrapped his arms tightly around the girl’s waist, his cheek pressed against her back, catching a whiff of shampoo in her hair. For a split second, he found himself oddly enjoying the moment—until her voice pulled him back to reality. "No need to hold on that tight, is there?"

"Sorry," Mew said, loosening his grip. "Why are both the gangs and the pigs out to kill you? Who the hell are you?"

The girl didn’t answer. Of course, Mew hadn’t expected one, not in the middle of a chase. The AV hatches were opening, MaxTac troopers preparing to rappel down and cut them off.

"Tch, they just don’t know when to quit," the girl muttered, pressing a button on the motorcycle’s dashboard. She turned to Mew. "Close your eyes. Now."

"What the hell—" Mew didn’t have time to react, and neither did the MaxTac troopers leaning out of the AV hatches. A missile launched from the motorcycle’s rear, streaking into the sky. A blinding white flash exploded before Mew’s eyes, turning the dead of night as bright as noon.

Part 3

A totaled motorcycle lay on its side by the coast, billowing black smoke. The only sounds were the crash of waves against the shore and the patter of acid rain on the ground.

"Hey, sleepyhead. Time to wake up. I paid a pretty penny to hire you," Mew felt someone shaking him, the familiar female voice ringing in his ears. He opened his eyes slowly, his vision blurry—except for her eyes. They were unforgettable, no Tsujimoto optical implant could ever replicate that look.

"Ugh... How long was I out?" Mew leaned against a wall, his head still throbbing, but he seemed to have only suffered minor scrapes and bruises. All he remembered was the blinding flash of the missile, then blackness.

"Half an hour," the girl said, kneeling down. She took off her trench coat and draped it over Mew, giving an awkward smile. "Guess mounting an armored vehicle’s weapon module on a motorcycle wasn’t such a great idea after all. Plan B—we go underground."

"We just escaped the city, and now we’re sneaking back in through the sewers?" The mouth of Night City’s sewer system loomed behind them.

"Exactly," the girl nodded, looking a little guilty. She hesitated for a moment before speaking again. "I never told you my name, did I? You can call me... Scarlet Feather Zero." Her tone seemed softer, though it might have just been Mew’s imagination.

Mew knew it was almost certainly an alias—but the surname felt familiar, like he’d heard it somewhere before. They locked eyes for a moment, and Mew felt a flush of embarrassment, quickly looking away.

"You seem to keep staring at my eyes. Is there something wrong with them?" the girl asked, standing up and pacing back and forth.

"Sorry, I didn’t mean to," Mew said, scratching the back of his head as he tried to stand. "I just find it strange you don’t have optical implants."

"I trust my own eyes more. Speaking of which..." She raised an elegant eyebrow, studying him with those eyes. "You look at me like you know me. Have we met before?"

"Maybe. I can’t remember," Mew said, regaining his strength. He handed the trench coat back to her, just as a drop of water seeped from the top of the wall and hit his shoulder.

"Alright, if you don’t want to talk about it, I won’t push," the girl said, stepping back. "You want to know what I hired you for?"

"Yeah," Mew said, his eyes downcast as he checked the damage to his pistol.

This was weird, he thought. He’d been a merc for years, but he’d never had a job this dangerous—not even close. It felt like a braindance, the kind of black braindances some clients hired mercs to film. But this was taking it to a whole new level.

"Something on your mind?" the girl asked, seemingly reading his thoughts. She slipped her hands into her coat pockets and tilted her head. "You think I’m lying to you?"

"Nah. I just know you’re not some ordinary girl. But it doesn’t matter. I’ll do what you ask, and collect my pay," Mew said.

"Haha, you don’t survive in this city without a trick or two up your sleeve," the girl laughed. "I hope you understand—just like Mew is only your call sign, I have my own secrets. But trust me, I won’t ask you to do anything evil."

Mew glanced at her bright, watery eyes, then looked away again. "I trust you. But I’m still curious—who did you piss off to make both the gangs and the law come after you with everything they’ve got?"

"Sigh... It’s a long story. I’ve tried to keep a low profile, really," the girl said, her shoulders slumping in dejection. "If you don’t want to keep risking your neck for me, you can back out now..."

"I don’t quit a job before it’s done. Besides, where the hell am I supposed to go now? Honestly, I feel safer with you than on my own," Mew said, holstering his pistol. "I’m feeling better. Let’s move out."

And so the two of them ventured deep into the sewers. Mew scanned their surroundings, pulling up underground maps on his neural interface. "Night City’s sewer network is everywhere. Heard a lot of Nomads live down here. We need to be careful."

"Do you know the Nomads?" the girl asked, following obediently behind Mew. In the sewers, the only sounds were the gurgle of water, their footsteps, and their voices.

Mew thought for a moment. "I’ve dealt with them before. They’re not as bad as the news makes them out to be—just like anyone else in the city. Though some are dangerous, like the Mox and the Wraiths."

"Really?" the girl asked, her curiosity piqued.

"Night City folks just have a lot of prejudice against them, I guess. A lot of Nomads end up leaving..." Mew’s voice was heavy with sadness.

"Because of the city government’s persecution?" the girl pressed.

"Partly. But more than that, they’re used to freedom. They don’t like being tied down by Night City’s rules and regulations," Mew explained.

"I see," the girl said, as if deep in thought. "Say—did you used to work for Arasaka?"

Mew froze suddenly, avoiding her gaze. "Why do you ask?"

The girl pointed to a faint mark on Mew’s neck—the telltale spot where Arasaka implanted surveillance chips in their employees.

Mew was still trying to think of an answer when a faint sound echoed through the sewers. Their faces paled instantly.

Mew motioned for the girl to stay silent, drawing his weapon. The girl raised the katana she’d taken from the Tyger Claws, and they back-to-back, their eyes scanning every shadow for movement.

A figure from behind a corner suddenly dove into the water. Mew fired, hitting it—but the thing slipped away into the current in an instant.

"Should we chase it?" the girl asked, her voice tight with tension.

"Too fast. We’d never catch up," Mew said, frustrated. "Did you see what that thing was?"

The girl shook her head. "No, but I heard the bullet ricochet. It sounded like it hit steel."

"Probably a full borg," Mew said, reloading his pistol with high-velocity electropulse rounds. "We need to be extra careful now."

The sewer current split into two paths ahead. Mew hesitated, unsure which way to go. Then the girl pointed into the distance—there, in the dark, was a rickety little shack.

"Is that where the Nomads live?" the girl asked, stepping forward a few paces. She seemed to spot something, her voice brightening. "Look! What’s that?"

Mew scanned the area. Even in the dim light, he could see signs of a fight nearby—bloodstains and a few spent shell casings leading straight to the shack’s door.

"Stay close to me," Mew said, moving forward slowly. He held his pistol in one hand, pushing the door open gently with the other. There was no sound from inside. Only then did they dare to step in and investigate.

The shack was a complete mess. Tables and chairs lay overturned everywhere, covered in deep scratch marks, as if a wild animal had torn through the place. Something had been taped to the wall once, then ripped off roughly.

"Something’s not right here," Mew said, checking every nook and cranny of the shack. As he approached a cabinet, a faint blue light flickered from between the cracks.

"Get down! Now!" Mew shouted to the girl.

She hit the ground in an instant. The cabinet door flew open with a crash, and a humanoid robot lunged at Mew, tackling him to the ground. The impact smashed a huge hole in the shack’s already flimsy wall, and the two of them tumbled into the raging sewer current.

The girl scrambled out of the shack, dropping to her knees at the edge of the water and screaming. "Mew! Are you okay?!"

Part 4

In his unconsciousness, Mew’s mind drifted back to the past—back when he didn’t go by Mew. He had once been an Arasaka employee. Compared to the rest of Night City, the infighting and factionalism within the corporation were infinitely more cutthroat. After he finished developing a new implant project, he didn’t get the promotion and reward he’d been promised—instead, he got a pink slip. It was obvious the higher-ups planned to cut him loose, to ensure no one ever found out the project’s secrets. But how many corporate dogs ever got out alive?

Sure enough, Arasaka’s hired hitmen were waiting for him at home. By some miracle, his sharp instincts and advanced combat training from the corporation let him escape.

But the hitmen were relentless, and Mew was quickly overwhelmed. That’s when David Martinez and his crew showed up. Mew never found out if David had heard about his falling-out with Arasaka, or if he’d just been passing by. Either way, David took out the Arasaka hitmen with effortless ease, pulling Mew from the brink of death. After that, Mew fell in with David’s crew.

"Mew! Are you there?!" The girl’s voice pulled Mew back to reality, something brushing against his face. He opened his eyes—and saw a swift. In Night City, all animals except the elite’s expensive pets had long since died out. Back when acid rain first started falling, bird corpses littered the streets after every storm, their wings corroded and tattered by the toxic rain.

The swift flapped its wings and took flight.

"I’ll come back for you! Hold on!" the girl’s voice called from the distance, echoing through the sewers over and over.

Mew struggled to roll over, pushing himself up with his hands. His Tsujimoto electronic irises displayed his vital signs—they weren’t good. But thanks to his implant enhancements, he’d avoided being crushed to death.

Mew tried to take a step, but froze at the sight before him. A train lay across his path, a sleeping steel behemoth. It was old and rusted, but he could still imagine it speeding through the underground tunnels in its prime. The robot that had tackled him was leaning against the train door, motionless.

"Hello?" Mew called out to it, but there was no response. It had taken the brunt of the impact when they fell into the raging current, saving his life.

He never would have guessed this place had once been a subway station.

In the darkness, a pair of red eyes suddenly opened. It smelled blood, smelled prey. In that moment, all it wanted was to kill.

It slunk forward silently, Mew completely unaware of the danger closing in.

Sharp, bloodthirsty blades twitched beneath its skin, eager to tear its prey open from gut to throat.

Kill. Kill. KILL.

Suddenly, a pair of glowing blue eyes lit up by the train window. Then another. And another. In the blink of an eye, the darkness was filled with countless blue eyes. The monster slunk back into the shadows, unwilling to face the new threat.

"After you fell in, I was panicking, wondering what to do—and then they showed up," the girl said, stepping into the light. The robots all turned to look at them.

"We’re so sorry for scaring you! We haven’t had any visitors here in so long," a robot said, stepping forward. It was wearing a Samurai band t-shirt, making it look oddly comical.

"Sumimasen!" (We’re sorry!) The lead robot bowed deeply.

"Sumimasen!" All the robots bowed in unison, a spectacular sight. Mew was stunned—there was something strangely endearing about the bunch.

"It’s okay, it’s okay! We’re the ones who trespassed on your territory," the girl said, trying to help one of the robots up. But the robot didn’t move an inch, leaving her looking awkward.

"We are the ones who were rude. We would be delighted to host you, truly! But we haven’t had any visitors in so long, we don’t even have any food to offer. We’re so sorry," the lead robot said, its blue eyes dimming slightly—apparently, that was how they showed remorse.

"Did you build these shacks?" Mew asked.

"No. They were left by a group of people who lived here once. They taught us so many things," the robot replied.

"Nomads?"

"No. They were a band," the robot said.

"What about the train?"

"Long ago, this was part of Night Corp’s city subway line plan. We were the station attendants. But then the trains stopped running, and this place was converted into a sewer," the robot explained.

"Why?"

"There’s a monster nearby. For a while, passengers kept disappearing here. People started avoiding this place like the plague, so Night Corp abandoned it. We thought the monster was coming, so we..."

"You hid in the cabinet to ambush the monster?" the girl said, suddenly realizing what had happened.

Mew stared at the scratch marks on the shack’s walls, deep in thought.

"Can the train still run?" he asked.

The robot shook its head. "The people who lived here once told us—if we could form a rock band and play a concert, we would find a way out."

"What?" The two of them stared at each other in shock.

The robot led them to the center of the station, which had been converted into a stage. It was covered in posters of the legendary Samurai band—Chippin’ In, Never Fade Away, and more. In the middle of the stage, a robot with an afro sat behind a drum kit, watching them with a goofy look. Another robot with sunglasses held a bass guitar. Two electric guitars leaned against the wall, and the sound equipment was fully intact.

Mew thought this was all utterly bizarre. Had Samurai ever played here?

A crowd of robots sat in the audience, their blue eyes flickering, seemingly waiting for the show to start with bated breath.

"Why can’t you play the concert by yourselves?" Mew asked.

"We watched them play so many times, we learned how to play all the instruments! But our creators never installed a singing module for us," the robot said, its eyes dimming again in disappointment.

Mew was stuck. Was this some kind of prank by Johnny Silverhand?

"I’ll sing," the girl said, stepping forward.

All the robots turned to look at her, their blue eyes brightening with hope.

"Then I’ll play backup for you," Mew said.

The stage lights flickered on. In the audience, the robots arranged their glowing eyes into colorful patterns, raising their metal arms and waving them in the air.

Mew ran his fingers over the guitar strings, glancing at the girl standing in front of the microphone. She looked back at him, winking—a single star twinkling in the dark.

The afro robot and the sunglasses robot cracked their knuckles (or the robotic equivalent), ready to play.

"Let’s go," the girl said, taking a deep breath. She opened her mouth and sang:

I saw in you what life was missingYou lit a flame that consumed my hateI'm not one for reminiscing butI'd trade it all for your sweet embrace...

When the girl finished singing, she set down the guitar. The audience erupted into cheers—the robots’ flickering blue eyes, their metal hands clapping in a thunderous roar. If robots could cry, the audience would have been a sea of tears.

"That was amazing!" Mew said, his voice filled with excitement.

"You were pretty great too!" the girl smiled.

Click. Something popped out from the back of the stage—the train’s power core. Maybe Johnny had hidden it there, just to play a joke on anyone who found it.

The subway train roared to life again. The two of them decided to take it to their final destination. The robots were heartbroken to see them go, but they let them leave anyway. Before they boarded, the lead robot ordered the others to carry over a pile of crates. "These are weapons Night Corp deployed here to defend against the monster. We hope they’ll be useful to you."

"Thank you! We’ll come back! And we’ll play another concert for you!" the two of them said, waving goodbye to the robots from the train window as the train rumbled forward into the darkness.

No one noticed a pair of red eyes slithering onto the train’s roof as they spoke.

Part 5

The two of them sat on the train seats, exhausted from their long journey, ready to collapse into sleep on the spot.

"I never knew you could sing," Mew said, still stunned.

"Hmph, I can do pretty much anything," the girl said, sticking her tongue out at him playfully.

"You’re incredible," Mew said, looking at the girl beside him. Her eyes shone with a fierce determination and unyielding spirit. "What about that swift? What’s its story?"

The girl hesitated, as if weighing whether to tell him.

"Are we friends now?" she asked, looking into Mew’s eyes. When she read the unmistakeable yes in his gaze, she seemed to make up her mind. "I guess there’s no point in hiding it from you anymore," she said softly. The train’s lights flickered on and off, casting everything in alternating light and shadow.

The figure lurking in the darkness crept closer.

Its blood-red eyes opened slowly.

"Animals have long since disappeared from Night City," the girl said, pulling a glass case from her arms. Inside, the swift fluttered around, alive and well. "But my father brought them back."

"What do you mean?"

"My father is a scientist for Arasaka," the girl said.

"No wonder your surname sounded so familiar," Mew said, his hands clenching into fists. Everything made sense now.

"He modified this bird’s genes, making its feathers resistant to acid rain. His research was supposed to help endangered animals survive in our polluted, industrial world. But Arasaka didn’t care about that—what use were animals to them? They wanted to use the technology to modify human bodies, to create the perfect soldiers..."

Mew fell silent.

"My father refused," the girl said, her voice heavy with sorrow. "He sent me the research data in advance, told me to take it to Kang Tao. Arasaka would never let the technology fall into enemy hands—that’s why all this is happening. That’s why they’re hunting us."

The swift flapped its wings inside the case, tilting its head to look at the two of them before letting out a sharp chirp.

"Watch out!" the girl shouted, yanking Mew to the ground. A figure in a tattered uniform drove a blade straight through the seat Mew had just been sitting in. Matted hair covered the figure’s face, but Mew saw the double vision in its eyes—glowing red like a demon’s. So this was the monster the robots had talked about: a cyberpsycho.

Mew’s eyes locked on the figure’s wrist. The blade had sprouted directly from its arm—a mantis blade implant, plain and simple.

A sharp whoosh of air. The cyberpsycho struck again with its right hand, and the girl blocked the attack, sparks flying inches from her ear.

"Too little space here—we can’t take it down like this! Mew, go disconnect the rear car! I’ll hold this bastard off!" the girl shouted, kicking the cyberpsycho back. Mew scrambled to his feet and ran toward the back of the train.

"KILL!" the cyberpsycho roared, lunging after him—only for the girl to step in its way, slicing off its hand with a single strike.

"I’m your opponent!" the girl snarled.

"Hahahahaha!" the cyberpsycho laughed, a maniacal sound that bordered on crying.

The train sped through the pitch-black tunnel, the sound of steel clashing and screams echoing through the cars as human and monster fought.

The cyberpsycho moved like lightning. In the blink of an eye, they had clashed a dozen times.

Block. Block. Block again.

The girl’s movements slowed, struggling to keep up with the cyberpsycho’s inhuman speed.

Opening. Opening. Another opening.

Gashes appeared on the girl’s shoulder and arm, blood seeping into her trench coat.

The cyberpsycho’s demonic laughter echoed through the train cars, endless and terrifying.

"DIE! DIE! ALL OF YOU DIE!" the monster shrieked, swinging its bloodthirsty blade, the cold steel glinting in the dim light.

It vanished in a blur—then reappeared right in front of the girl, its blade slashing toward her neck with a faint afterimage. A shower of sparks flew, and the girl’s katana went flying across the car.

"Got it! I’m here to help!" Mew shouted.

Bullets slammed into the cyberpsycho’s body, but it didn’t even flinch—it no longer felt pain. It struck again, and the girl had no time to dodge. Mew raised his pistol and slammed the butt into the cyberpsycho’s arm, deflecting the mantis blade’s path—but the blade sliced open his arm in the process.

Seizing the opportunity, the girl rolled across the floor, grabbed her katana, and swung it at the cyberpsycho’s face. The already grotesque face twisted and shattered, blood and sparks exploding into the air.

The girl followed up with a powerful kick, sending the cyberpsycho crashing into the rear car door, smashing a huge hole in it. It was seconds away from being thrown from the speeding train—but it refused to let go, driving its mantis blade into the metal hull to hold on.

"ROAR!" It let out a bestial snarl, its red eyes blazing with rage.

The girl shot Mew a look, then charged forward.

The moment the cyberpsycho leaped into the air, Mew seized his chance, emptying the rest of his magazine into its face. The girl used the cover to launch a devastating vertical slash, then pushed off the cyberpsycho’s body with a flying kick, flipping backward to safety.

The cyberpsycho’s body split in two, crashing to the train tracks below, left behind by the speeding train.

Mew grabbed the girl as she jumped back, and the two of them tumbled across the train seat, wrapping their arms around each other. They looked into each other’s eyes, then lay back and laughed, the swift fluttering in its case and watching them.

In the dim tunnel, the cyberpsycho’s severed arm, still topped with the mantis blade, smoked on the floor, surrounded by scrap metal. Suddenly, the other end of the tunnel was bathed in the bright light of searchlights. Arasaka’s armed forces had arrived.

A towering figure strode forward, his steps heavy and thunderous. The armed soldiers holding guns stepped aside to let him pass—Adam Smasher, Arasaka’s top enforcer. Adam scanned the wreckage of the train car and the burning arm on the ground, the soldiers around him holding their breath in fear. He raised his boot and crushed the implant arm into a pulp, his blood-red eyes staring into the distance at the speeding train.

Part 6

In an abandoned amusement park in Pacifica, the sound of waves crashing against the rocks echoed in Mew’s ears, as if they were right beside him. The girl stood by the window with a serious expression, staring at the Ferris wheel in the distance, lost in thought. Ever since the Grand Imperial Mall was left half-built, this area had been a desolate wasteland.

Mew sat on the ground, bandaging his wounds. The entire city was against them—there was no way to see a ripperdoc now.

"Long night, huh?" Mew said, looking at the swift in its glass case. "You gonna keep it with you forever?"

The girl looked at the swift too, letting out a sigh. "If I let it go, it’ll probably die soon. But maybe it thinks freedom is worth more. I’ll let it choose for itself when we leave."

"I see," Mew said.

"You hate Arasaka, don’t you?" the girl asked, turning to look at Mew. Mew met her gaze—her star-like eyes, though tired, still shone bright.

Mew shook his head. "Why would I hate you? This city has good people and bad people. I hate Arasaka, but that doesn’t mean everyone who works for them deserves to die. I’m just a merc—doing a job for the money."

"Did Arasaka hurt you?" she asked.

"We’ll talk about that later. When we’ve got more time," Mew said, his voice tired and world-weary. "Where did you arrange to meet Kang Tao?"

The girl sat down beside him, a smile spreading across her face—the first genuine one Mew had seen in a long time. "Somewhere I’ve always wanted to go," she said, her eyes drifting to the Ferris wheel outside the window.

"That’s not exactly laying low," Mew said.

The girl pulled Mew’s head to her chest, running her hand over his back. "I’ve lived my whole life under Arasaka’s thumb. I’ve never even been to an amusement park. Before I leave this godforsaken city, I really want to see it. I know it’s selfish... I’ve caused so much trouble for everyone these past few days. For my dad. For you. For all the innocent people who got caught in the crossfire..."

"I know," Mew said, looking up at her. He reached out and brushed a strand of hair from her face, then quickly pulled his hand back, embarrassed. "Every girl deserves a chance to ride a Ferris wheel."

"Mew," the girl said, her voice soft with warmth. "Thank you..."

The next morning.

"Hello? Hello? This is Zero~"

"Hello? Hello? This is Mew~"

The two of them stood at the amusement park’s gate, testing their comms channels. Once, this place had been filled with children’s laughter. Now, it was about to become a battlefield. Mew had set up all the defensive weapons the robots had given him along the only road into the park, hoping they still worked after all these years.

"Time’s up. I’m heading in," the girl said.

"Got it," Mew replied, spotting Arasaka’s armored vehicles on the horizon in the distance.

"Want to come with me?"

"Nah. I’ll stay here and hold off Arasaka’s forces as long as I can," Mew said, pressing the remote trigger without hesitation. "Go. Now. They’re coming."

A missile launched from a turret on the roof, slamming into the lead armored vehicle and flipping it over. The once silent park erupted with the sound of explosions.

The girl walked to the base of the Ferris wheel. A black dot appeared in the sky over the ocean, flying closer—it was Kang Tao’s transport AV.

"I’m here," the girl’s voice came over the comms.

Mew activated the Ferris wheel’s power. The machine, which hadn’t moved an inch since the residents left, rumbled to life. Colorful lights flickered along its frame, as if waking the forgotten amusement park from its slumber.

The girl pulled the glass case from her trench coat, glanced back in Mew’s direction, then stepped lightly into a Ferris wheel car.

Arasaka soldiers fell one by one in the smoke, the defensive fire so intense they couldn’t advance an inch.

"Useless maggots," Adam Smasher growled, stepping forward to take matters into his own hands. Bullets slammed into his steel body, bouncing off harmlessly. He raised his arm, and a rocket launcher deployed from his forearm. He fired, and the turret blocking the way was reduced to ash in an instant.

The girl sat in the Ferris wheel car, slowly rising into the air. The sky was starting to lighten, the first hints of dawn breaking over the horizon. When her car reached the very top, the Ferris wheel stopped.

She looked out at the distant neon lights, at the towering skyscrapers of the city, and opened the glass case in her arms. The swift looked up at her.

"You’re free," she whispered.

The swift flew out the window, soaring into the sky.

Adam Smasher was as powerful as the legends said. The fight was over in minutes. As the smoke cleared, Adam spotted the Kang Tao transport AV in the distance—and then saw Mew, barely conscious, leaning against a shattered wall. He let out a guttural roar. "You think this saves her? I’ll make sure they never leave this city alive!"

Adam raised his arm, locking onto the Ferris wheel. But just as the rocket was about to launch, his implants seized up. He stared at Mew in rage, but his legs wouldn’t move either.

Watching Adam’s look of utter disbelief—though his cybernetic face could barely show emotion—Mew let out a sigh of relief. "Hey. Guess who designed the implant system you’re using right now..."

Mew leaned against the wall, every ounce of strength drained from his body. He’d used all his neural bandwidth, all his hacking skills, to take control of Adam’s implants. Every second felt like an eternity. He looked up at the Ferris wheel, and thought he saw someone waving at him from the top car—but his vision blurred with blood, and he couldn’t be sure.

Memories of his time with David Martinez flashed through his mind. David had died at Adam Smasher’s hands too, all those years ago. So had Johnny Silverhand, when he blew up Arasaka Tower decades before that. Did this make him a legend, just like them? Maybe one day, there would be a cocktail named after Mew at the Afterlife.

"I’m on the Kang Tao AV," the familiar voice came over the comms.

Cough. Mew cleared his throat, blood trickling from his mouth down his cheek. "How was the Ferris wheel ride?"

"It was perfect," the girl said.

"Good," Mew whispered.

"But it would have been better with two people," she said.

"Sorry I can’t be there with you," Mew said.

Tears streamed down the girl’s face, her voice cracking with sobs. "I wish you could see the view up here too."

"Just knowing you can see it is enough for me," Mew said. "Job’s done. So... until we meet again, if we ever do." Mew’s voice grew slower, fainter, until the only sound on the comms was the static of an open channel.

The sky was fully bright now. The sun rose over the horizon, casting golden light through the cracks in the dark clouds. High in the sky, between the heavens and the sea, the swift flew like a black bolt of lightning—its wings unafraid of the acid rain.

"This is News 54. Today is the Spring Festival, a traditional holiday from the Eastern Old World. In Night City, we’re celebrating with a grand festival... We now interrupt this broadcast for an emergency news update. Earlier this morning, a terrorist attack occurred in Santo Domingo. Arasaka Security Forces responded to suppress the threat immediately..."

The New Year’s bell tolled over the city. But for the people of Night City, it was just another ordinary day.