Truth be told, Neo's tastes were… unconventional. But not that unconventional — not enough to find interest in a woman whose face was half-machine and whose tongue could twist like a servo coil.
After politely rejecting the woman's self-advertised "services," he walked down the dim hallway of the eleventh floor, the air thick with smoke, oil, and something sweetly synthetic. At the end of the corridor, he stopped before a narrow door and leaned closer.
A faint blue light scanned his face.
[Biometric verification complete. Welcome home.]
The door slid open with a soft hiss.
Neo stepped inside. Lights flicked on automatically, a cool wave of air-conditioning humming to life. Screens across the wall glowed, displaying the day's weather and broadcast feeds.
[Illumination active.]
[Room temperature set to optimal comfort.]
[Forecast: rain tonight. Curtains closed. Would you like to open them?]
[Resuming last entertainment program: Late Night Talk Show.]
Neo collapsed onto the couch, letting out a long breath. The apartment's smart control system was already managing everything — temperature, light, ventilation, even background music.
Maybe this, he thought, was the first real comfort he'd felt since waking up in this chrome world.
Say what you want about the moral decay — 2077's technology was impressive.
From bioengineering and neural implants to flying cars and lunar transports, the world thrummed with machine brilliance. Even basic home tech was a marvel of efficiency and automation.
After resting for a while, Neo got up, showered, and changed into clean clothes. The moment he stepped out of the bathroom, the air filled with a rhythmic beeping.
[Incoming call: Jackie Welles.]
A 3D projection shimmered into view — Jack's grinning face, as loud and unfiltered as ever.
"Neo, hermano! Been swamped the past few days, couldn't show you around proper. But tonight? Tonight we party. Get your ass downstairs — I'm waiting!"
Neo smiled. "On my way."
When Jack said "party," refusal wasn't an option. And besides, if you wanted to understand why Night City had "Night" in its name — you had to see it after dark.
…
He rode the elevator down to the underground garage. The doors opened to the familiar roar of engines and flickering neon strips.
Jack was already there, leaning against a newly painted car with a smug grin.
"Check it out, choom! My new ride. What do you think?"
Neo gave it a once-over. The car's body looked solid, with decent plating — obviously self-modified but nothing too flashy.
Jack chuckled at his silence. "Don't let the looks fool you. Under the hood, this baby's a beast. Custom engine, dual exhaust, reinforced suspension — she bites hard."
Neo shrugged. "Pretty's not what counts. If it runs, it works."
He opened the passenger door and got in without another word.
Jack blinked, scratching the back of his head. "Yeah, yeah, fine. Mr. Stoic, I get it."
He jumped in, started the engine, and the car rolled out into the glowing arteries of Night City.
…
The city truly earned its name after sundown.
If daytime Night City was twenty percent alive, then nighttime was the other eighty — the full pulse of its soul.
Through the window, the world outside shimmered — skyscrapers crawling with holographic ads, lighted highways suspended above crowded slums, and neon rain reflecting like veins of liquid color.
Jack whistled low. "Beautiful, huh? But don't let the lights fool you. The prettier it looks, the dirtier it gets."
Neo watched the skyline, voice low. "You're right. Beneath all that shine is rot. The best way to clean it…"
He turned to Jack, a faint smile playing at his lips. "…is to burn it all down."
Jack burst into laughter, pounding the steering wheel. "Hah! That's the spirit, choom! You're speaking my language now!"
Neo didn't respond.
Jack thought he was joking — just another round of drunken tough talk.
But Neo meant every word.
Arasaka, Biotech, NCPD, Militech — all of them had sunk their claws into this city's heart.
Decades of control.
Decades of rot.
Night City had its hierarchy carved in chrome and blood. The poor scavenged, the rich consumed, and the corps ruled everything in between.
Revolts had come before — each one bright, furious, and short-lived.
Heroes became martyrs. Martyrs became myths.
And the machine rolled on.
But Neo wasn't here to become a legend.
He was here to rewrite the story.
…
"So," Jack said, interrupting the silence, "you been out exploring? Meet anyone interesting?"
Neo looked away from the window. "Yeah. Met someone on the metro today. A chip thief. Tried to rob me."
He told Jack about Lucy — how she'd slipped into his world like a flicker of blue light.
By the time he was done, Jack was laughing so hard the car swerved.
"Damn, bro! Didn't know you had game like that! First meeting, she's already hands-on, you're hugging her, and you still walked away with more chips than her? That's smooth!"
Neo blinked, then smirked. "Now that you mention it… yeah, I guess I did make out pretty well."
…
The car wound through the maze of backstreets, the night deepening around them.
They finally pulled into a dense neighborhood of crooked alleys and flickering signs. This was the real Night City — not the chrome towers, but the dirty veins underneath.
Here, no one cared what you wore or who you were.
Here, survival was the only currency that mattered.
The car cruised through narrow streets lined with lowlife gangs, their eyes glowing with cheap optics as they watched the vehicle roll past.
One of them nudged his friend when he recognized Jack's hulking frame behind the wheel.
That was enough. They looked away fast. No one wanted trouble with Jackie Welles.
The car came to a stop outside a familiar sign.
Lizzie's Bar.
The place was alive — flashing violet lights, pounding bass, and a crowd that never slept.
Neo stepped out, the pulsing rhythm of the music washing over him. The neon sign buzzed above the doorway like a heartbeat.
For the first time since crossing into this world, he felt it — that dangerous, intoxicating pull of Night City.
A world of chrome, sin, and promise.
Jack slapped him on the shoulder, grinning. "Welcome to the heart of it, choom. Tonight, we live."
Neo looked up at the glowing letters.
And under the endless hum of the city, he smiled faintly.
Let it burn.