Cyberpunk 2077 – Cyber Dogs

8's POV 

"And… finished." 

I exhale slowly, running a final scan over Gloria Martinez's vitals. Her readings are stable. No more system alerts, no more red flags. The therapy worked. She's still in a coma, but at least now she's in no danger of slipping away. I lean back, feeling a dull ache in my neck from hours hunched over the equipment. 

"You're going to be OK now, Gloria. You won't die from overworking." 

I gently adjust the BD stabilization helmet on her head, ensuring the leads are clean and well-attached. Her breathing is even. I stand there for a few seconds longer, just looking at her. I don't know why—maybe because this is one of those rare moments that actually feel earned. That I saved someone not with brute force or firepower, but with care. 

What time is it? I flick my wrist, letting the HUD display the time. 

"Six-thirty AM," I mutter. "Goddamn. I'm mentally wiped." My eyes feel like they've been scrubbed with sandpaper. "Food first. Then I'll go tell David the good news." 

I climb up the stairs to the warehouse kitchen. The moment I open the fridge, Lola is already by my side, tail wagging like a metronome on crack. The smell of sizzling bacon soon fills the air as I drop strips into a pan, followed by a few eggs. I toss a couple slices of bread in the toaster, rubbing my eyes with one hand while flipping with the other. Coffee drips into the pot behind me. 

By the time I sit down, my breakfast smells like salvation. First bite, and it feels like my soul is rebooting. 

"Woof! [Where's my breakfast?]" 

I glance down. Lola's staring up at me with big, innocent eyes—like she hadn't just slept peacefully all night while I played cyber-surgeon. 

"Morning, Lola. Don't worry, I'll cook you some once I finish mine. I was up all night, you know." 

"Woof! [OK. But I want more bacon, please.]" 

"Demanding queen," I mutter, scratching her behind the ear. 

I clean my plate fast, then fry another round—extra portions this time. Half for Lola, half for David. I throw in some canned hash, splash a little soy sauce on the eggs for extra flavor, and plate everything up. 

David's not upstairs. 

"Lola?" I ask while placing the plates on the table. "Where's the kid? Haven't seen him since yesterday." 

She barks. "Woof! [He left!]" 

I pause, hand still hovering above a fork. "Wait—what? He left? When?" 

"Woof! [Early. Said he had to go to the Academy.]" 

I freeze. I feel my brow furrow without even trying. "The Academy? Seriously?" I run a hand through my hair. "Why didn't you stop him?" 

"Woof! [You didn't tell me to!]" 

I exhale. Can't even be mad at her. She's not a babysitter. She's a dog—well, a super-dog, but still. 

"Fair enough," I mutter and set a plate on the floor for her. "You can have David's breakfast too. Keep an eye on Gloria while I'm gone." 

"Woof! [Happy!]" 

As I grab my jacket, I pause and glance back down the hall. Gloria's stable, Lola's fed, and the kid… well, he's about to crash into reality the hard way. Time to clean up someone else's mess—again. 

David's POV – City Center 

I stare blankly at the flickering holographic billboard above me. Some tacky Corpo ad. Smiling suits and neon slogans promising "a brighter future through innovation." All lies. 

"What am I even doing?" I mutter, pulling my hoodie tighter as I walk toward the towering structure of Arasaka Academy. "Why am I coming back here?" 

I already know the answer, even if I don't want to say it out loud. Because it's all I had. All she wanted for me. And now, she's lying in some weird medical chamber, hooked up to a helmet system I barely understand. And me? I'm just… walking into a place that doesn't want me anymore. 

A flicker of movement in my peripheral vision breaks my spiral. I turn. 

Katsuo. 

Of course. 

He's got that smug look again. Corporate brand arrogance, hair slicked back like he walked out of a K-Drama, flanked by his usual pair of meathead lackeys. And they're standing just close enough to block my path. 

"Really?" I mutter under my breath. 

We're in a quiet side alley just a block from the main Academy gates. Not a soul around. Perfect spot for an ambush. 

Katsuo steps forward with mock concern. "Little advice, Martinez. Learn to take a hint." 

I fold my arms. "And what hint would that be?" 

He clicks his tongue like I'm the dumbest person alive. "You don't belong. Our class, this school—you're a parasite. You attach yourself, suck value, and hope no one notices. But I noticed." 

I squint at him. "This about yesterday?" 

"Oh, no. Yesterday was just confirmation." He smirks. "Your mother… came in, begged the principal to forgive your little outburst. Caused quite the scene. Poor woman. Must be tough keeping up appearances when you're broke." 

My fists clench. My chest tightens. 

He leans in, voice oily. "How does she afford tuition, I wonder?" 

"Shut the hell up," I snap. 

Katsuo smiles wider, like that's what he wanted. 

"You're a charity case," he says coldly. "Do us all a favor and drop out. Before someone makes the choice for you." 

And then a new voice breaks through, sharp and casual: 

"You know, people like you deserve to get punched in the face." 

I turn, heart already pounding. 

There he is—him. 8. 

The man who saved me. Calm, composed, hands in his pockets like he's just taking a stroll. Behind him, Katsuo's two goons lie crumpled on the ground, unconscious. 

Katsuo's expression shifts from cocky to confused. "Who the hell are you supposed to be?" 

8 steps forward, eyes locked on me. He completely ignores Katsuo, brushing past him like he's nothing. "Kid," he says, "you shouldn't be here. You're still recovering. Your uniform's dirty, your posture's shot, and you look like you haven't slept." 

Katsuo, enraged, grabs his sleeve. "How dare you touch me, filth! Do you know who I am?!" 

8 finally turns to him with a look of pure disdain. "A spoiled brat who doesn't know how to wipe his own ass." 

Katsuo's Chrome hums as red sparks crackle from his fists. "You're dead. You hear me? Dead!" 

He lunges forward, throwing a flurry of punches at 8. And they connect. Blow after blow. One to the ribs. Two to the face. A high-kick to the gut. 

But 8 doesn't flinch. 

He just stands there, taking it like a statue. 

Katsuo steps back, gasping. "What… how are you still standing?" 

8 finally moves. One step forward. Then a brutal punch—straight into Katsuo's stomach. The Corpo prince drops like a sack of bricks, gasping. 

"You… bastard," Katsuo wheezes. 

Then another punch. And another. 8's fists become a blur—every hit calculated, precise, surgical. He keeps Katsuo suspended in midair with nothing but raw physics, before slamming him through a vending machine with a final, savage kick. 

Sparks fly. Soda cans clatter. Katsuo lands upside down, legs twitching. 

I'm frozen. 

8 walks over, dusts off his sleeves, then places a hand on my shoulder. 

"Let's go." 

I nod, stunned, following in silence. 

As we walk, I glance over at him. "Choom… how the hell did you do that? You don't even have Chrome." 

He shrugs. "Is that really what you're thinking about right now? Not your mom?" 

That hits harder than it should. I swallow hard. "I know. But… I thought if I didn't show up today, I'd be expelled." 

"No offense," he says, "but without your mom working, you won't be able to afford this place. Even if you did show up, they'll drop you the moment they find out she's in a coma. Arasaka's not a charity. You're not part of their world, and they'll remind you every second of every day." 

I stop walking. The words feel like a punch to the gut. All that effort. All her sacrifices. Gone. 

"What the hell am I supposed to do now?" I mutter, voice cracking. "Live on the street?" 

8 sighs. "You can crash with us. Get a job when you're ready. I've got space, food, and—more importantly—time. Time for you to figure out what you want." 

I stare at him, emotions bubbling to the surface. "Why… why are you helping me?" 

He looks at me. "Because I was you. And someone helped me." 

For a long second, neither of us speaks. 

Then I nod. "Thanks, choom. For everything. I don't know where I'd be right now if you hadn't shown up." 

8 claps me on the back. "Probably upside down in a vending machine." 

I laugh. A real, unexpected laugh. My stomach growls loudly. 

8 smirks. "Let's go get you some breakfast." 

8's POV 

As we head back toward the warehouse, I glance over my shoulder, half-expecting more Corpo drama to tail us. But it's quiet. 

Thank god I showed up when I did. One more push and David might've gone full cyberpsycho on Katsuo—and Arasaka loves using that as an excuse to disappear people. 

David's got a shot now. A real one. A chance to change the script. To stop being the victim of some tragic anime storyline. 

This time, he has backup. 

End of Chapter 17