Night City wasn't kind to newcomers.
Matthew learned that the hard way.
His first gig came just a day after calling Regina Jones. The fixer had been polite but curt, her tone carrying the weight of someone who'd seen it all. "Viktor speaks highly of you," she'd said. "That's the only reason I'm giving you a shot. Don't make me regret it."
The job was straightforward on paper: head to an old warehouse in Watson's Northside Industrial District, retrieve a stolen cyberdeck, and bring it back. The details were sparse, but Regina made one thing clear: "Expect trouble. Scavs have their claws in this one."
Scavs.
That word alone was enough to make Matthew's stomach churn. He'd heard the stories from Viktor's patients—the horror of being stripped for parts, treated like nothing more than raw material. He'd seen the aftermath too: bodies mangled beyond recognition, their remaining flesh barely clinging to their skeletal frames.
But he couldn't back out now.
The warehouse loomed ahead, a crumbling relic of Night City's industrial past. Its walls were streaked with grime, the windows shattered and boarded up. A faint glow spilled out from inside, flickering like a dying neon sign.
Matthew crouched behind a stack of rusted shipping containers, his heart pounding in his chest. He could hear voices inside, harsh and guttural, punctuated by bursts of cruel laughter.
Scavs.
He tightened his grip on the pistol Regina had provided a battered Unity model with a scratched barrel that looked like it had seen better days. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing.
"Alright," he muttered to himself, taking a deep breath. "You've got this."
He didn't have a plan, not really. But as he surveyed the area, his mind began to click into gear. The warehouse's layout unfolded in his head like a schematic, the result of hours spent tinkering in Viktor's clinic. He could see the weak points an exposed vent here, a poorly-guarded side entrance there.
This wasn't just a job. It was a puzzle.
Matthew slipped around the side of the building, moving as quietly as he could. The side entrance was guarded by a single Scav, his back turned as he lit a cigarette.
Matthew gritted his teeth, his mind racing. He wasn't a fighter he'd never even thrown a punch in his life. But he didn't need to fight.
He needed to think.
His gaze flicked to the Scav's cyberarm, a bulky piece of chrome that whined faintly as the man flexed his fingers. Matthew's mind went to work, analyzing the arm's design and pinpointing its vulnerabilities.
The power source would be in the upper forearm, protected by a thin metal plate. If he could disable it, the arm would be useless.
Matthew reached into his pocket, pulling out a small multitool. It wasn't much, but it was enough to pry open the panel and sever the connection.
Now he just needed to get close.
The Scav didn't even hear him coming.
Matthew crept up behind the man, his hands trembling as he reached for the cyberarm. The multitool slipped into the panel with a soft click, and he twisted it sharply.
The arm sparked and whined, locking up as the power source disconnected. The Scav let out a startled curse, spinning around to face Matthew but by then, it was too late.
Matthew drove his shoulder into the man's chest, sending him stumbling back into the wall. The Scav crumpled to the ground, his disabled arm hanging limp at his side.
Matthew stood there for a moment, his heart hammering in his chest. He couldn't believe what he'd just done.
But there was no time to dwell on it.
He grabbed the Scav's pistol a sleek Lexington and slipped inside the warehouse.
The interior was a labyrinth of rusted machinery and broken-down assembly lines. The air was thick with the stench of oil and decay, and the flickering lights cast long, jagged shadows across the floor.
Matthew kept to the edges, his steps light and deliberate. The Scavs were scattered throughout the building, their voices echoing off the walls as they laughed and shouted obscenities.
The cyberdeck was in the main office, according to Regina's intel. That meant getting past at least three more Scavs.
Matthew's mind went into overdrive, analyzing the environment and piecing together a plan.
A broken-down forklift sat near the entrance, its hydraulic system still intact. A few loose wires dangled from the control panel, sparking faintly.
Matthew grinned.
It took him less than a minute to rig the forklift into a makeshift distraction. He rerouted the power from the hydraulic system to the horn, setting it to go off on a delay.
As the horn blared, the Scavs scrambled toward the noise, shouting in confusion.
"Who the hell's messing with the forklift?" one of them growled, his footsteps echoing through the warehouse.
Matthew slipped past them, his heart pounding in his chest.
The office was small and cluttered, its desk covered in papers and discarded tech. The cyberdeck sat in the center, its sleek design standing out against the mess.
Matthew grabbed it and turned to leave—only to freeze as a voice called out behind him.
"Hey! What the fuck are you doing?"
The Scav was young, barely older than Matthew, but his chrome-covered arms and jagged implants made him look monstrous. He raised his pistol, his eyes narrowing.
Matthew's mind raced, analyzing the Scav's cyberware. The arms were cheap and poorly maintained, their wiring exposed and vulnerable.
He didn't think. He just acted.
Matthew lunged forward, grabbing a loose cable from the desk and jamming it into the Scav's arm. The exposed wiring sparked violently, and the Scav screamed as his arm locked up.
Matthew didn't wait for him to recover. He swung the cyberdeck like a club, smashing it into the side of the Scav's head. The man crumpled to the ground, unconscious.
Matthew stood there, breathing heavily, the cyberdeck still clutched in his trembling hands.
The rest of the escape was a blur.
By the time Matthew made it back to the clinic, his hands were shaking, and his clothes were soaked with sweat. He handed the cyberdeck to Regina's courier, who gave him a curt nod before disappearing into the night.
"You look like hell," Viktor said, leaning against the doorway.
Matthew just nodded, collapsing onto the cot.
"First job?" Viktor asked.
"Yeah," Matthew muttered, his voice hoarse.
Viktor chuckled. "Get used to it, kid. It doesn't get any easier."
Matthew stared at the ceiling, his mind racing.
The job had been messy and terrifying, but he'd done it. He'd outsmarted the Scavs and survived.
It wasn't much, but it was a start.