North America, NUSA, Night City, 2077.
"The day is finally here," Leon Black murmured, gazing into the cracked mirror.
Who would've thought that just playing a game could lead to transmigration? Could something so ordinary truly rewrite reality?
After nearly two decades of surviving in Night City, Leon understood one thing better than most: there was no going back. Not only was return impossible, but what lay ahead would forever change the fragile peace the city clung to.
"Hey! Move it, punk!" barked a towering, two-meter-tall man with dark skin and bulging muscles. He slapped Leon's shoulder roughly.
The guy clearly belonged to the Animals gang—a group known for their brute strength and short tempers. To him, Leon, dressed in a sharp, jet-black suit with perfectly styled hair, looked like every other corporate drone worth hating.
Animals hated corpo types. In their eyes, suits deserved to be crushed.
Leon calmly continued fixing his tie. His eyes, once reflective, suddenly turned as cold as steel. "Take your filthy hand off me," he said, voice quiet but icy.
The larger man hesitated. That chill in Leon's voice hit a primal nerve, making him tense. But rage quickly replaced fear. How dare this soft-looking pretty boy talk down to him?
"You're dead meat!" the brute roared, throwing a massive punch. To him, it would be an easy knockout—like squashing a bug.
But what the brute didn't realize was that Leon had clawed his way to power in this cruel world. And he was about to learn a painful lesson.
Bang!
A dull impact echoed through the grimy restroom. Leon caught the incoming punch with one hand, his grip solid as steel. The Animal's eyes widened in disbelief—and then horror—as Leon squeezed.
CRACK.
A scream tore from the gang member's throat. His fist crumpled like an overripe fruit, bones shattered and flesh torn.
Leon let go. The crushed hand fell limp as the man howled in agony, clutching his wrist.
Wiping the blood from his hand with a white handkerchief, Leon coolly tossed it into a trash can covered in graffiti. "Not everyone is someone you can touch," he muttered.
Without sparing the man another glance, Leon stepped out of the filthy restroom and into the chaos of Night City.
---
The streets outside were alive—concrete canyons flanked by towers flashing with neon lights and flickering holograms. Every inch of space screamed with ads:
"Militech: The Romantic Choice for Men!"
"Kang Tao Welcomes You to the Smart World!"
"Preorder Now—Arasaka's Immortal Soulmate: Relic!"
"Biotechnica: CHOOH2 Production Set to Skyrocket!"
From blinking marquees to glowing street signs, the corporations dominated every view.
The pedestrians were no less varied—young punks with tattoos and foul mouths, engineers in orange suits hurrying to shifts, gangsters flaunting chrome limbs and flashing weapons. A few drug addicts slumped against walls, twitching or screaming unintelligibly.
High above, AVs zipped between skyscrapers, ignoring air lanes. Below, motorcycles weaved through speeding cars, while auto-driven Delamain taxis glided silently through traffic.
Ripperdoc clinics displayed cybernetic limbs in their windows. Fast food stalls sold bizarre snacks and glow-in-the-dark drinks. A few late-night street musicians strummed outdated guitars while being ignored by the crowd.
It was beautiful, in a brutal, cyberpunk way.
Leon knew better than to be dazzled. This was the illusion of the future—a corporate fantasy. And it wasn't meant for people like him.
---
"Leon, are you okay?" a soft voice asked beside him.
"I'm fine," he replied, smiling slightly at Lena Fox, the woman walking beside him.
"You worry too much, Lena."
"Of course he's fine!" Ethan Cross chimed in, shouldering a massive Arasaka sniper rifle. "Boss Black doesn't go down so easily."
Transferred from Arasaka's Tokyo HQ, Ethan had once viewed local mercs with disdain. But after a few missions, he'd been forced to eat his words. He thought he'd dominate Night City's battlefield with ease—but ended up being humbled by it instead.
Lena rolled her eyes but said nothing. Deep down, she knew she was overthinking—but how could she not worry?
Leon had saved her from a horrific trafficking operation run by the 6th Street Gang. From that moment on, she had resolved to follow him. Always.
"So, where to next?" asked Mike Taylor, the demolition expert who towered behind them like a steel wall.
"Didn't Boss Black say we need to report in?" Ethan answered with a lazy stretch. "But seriously, why is Kui taking so long? It's just a car theft."
As if summoned by the complaint, a roaring engine cut through the air.
A six-wheeled monster of a vehicle—painted matte black and gleaming with Militech armor plating—skidded to a dramatic halt in front of them. The passenger door swung open.
"You talking trash again, Cross?" sneered Lily Cross, hopping out with a lollipop between her lips, her golden hair flaring behind her.
Ethan groaned. "How do you always hear me? Are you psychic?"
"Tsk, you're easy to read," she snorted. "Seriously, what does Leon see in you? Can't lift, can't carry... You're not a nepotism case, right? Oh~ poor little Ethan~ mommy will protect you~"
"YOU!" Ethan sputtered, pointing at her furiously. "Why do you hate me so much!?"
From day one, Lily had made it her mission to roast Ethan. No one knew why—perhaps not even she did.
"Alright, alright," Leon clapped his hands. "Enough. Focus."
He waited for silence.
"Mission complete, as usual. Good job. After we drop off the package, we'll gather at Afterlife."
"Long live Boss Black!" Ethan cheered first, punching the air. The man had a weakness for celebrations.
"Again? That bar's a dump," Ethan mumbled. "We make enough money to drink in places that don't smell like oil and blood."
"Child," Lily sighed dramatically, now in the driver's seat. "You'll learn the value of money one day."
"That's it!" Ethan shouted. "Step out of the car right now! Let's fight!"
"You come up here!"
"You come down!"
"You come up!"
"You come down!"
Leon exchanged a tired look with Mike. Without a word, the giant reached over, grabbed Ethan by the collar, and flung him effortlessly into the passenger seat.
"Let's move out," Leon ordered.
The team piled into the armored vehicle. With a thunderous growl, the Velte 600 peeled away from the curb, kicking up a cloud of dust and nearly crashing into an autonomous cab that swerved aside in alarm.
---
Meanwhile, across town at Konpeki Plaza, two other figures were preparing for their own kind of mission.
"I just feel... uneasy," whispered V, scanning the lavish hotel lobby.
"Of course you do," said Jackie Welles, fidgeting with his tie. "We're robbing Arasaka. That's never a good idea."
The two mercs had met during a messy car heist in Heywood. Since then, they'd become an inseparable team—laughing, fighting, and bleeding together on countless gigs.
Tonight, they were taking a job from fixer Dexter DeShawn. The target: something valuable in Arasaka's tower. High risk, high reward.
Getting into the building was already nerve-wracking. The lobby scanners could've easily detected their stealth suits, but V's quick thinking saved them.
Posing as a hotel critic doing a "luxury experience review," she had just barely managed to throw off suspicion.
"Just hope we make it out in one piece," she muttered under her breath.
They entered their reserved suite. Jackie locked the door, placed a heavy case on the table, and opened it. Inside sat a sleek, six-legged black robot.
"Flathead," V said, tapping its head. "It's your time to shine."
T-Bug's voice crackled over comms. "Ready when you are."
Jackie pulled the curtains shut and booted up his laptop. V took a deep breath and sat cross-legged, mentally preparing herself.
One wrong move and they were done.
But if everything went well? They'd walk out legends.
pàtréóñ(Gk31)