Cyberpunk: Angel of Chrome

6:45 AM | Fukui — Gifted Vision

(15 minutes before V collapsed into bed)

A large, well-dressed bodyguard steps into the office and places a pristine white case on the table before Fukui.

"Delivery, ma'am."

"Thank you," she replies softly.

She delicately opens the sleek white box. Inside rests a note, handwritten in smooth black ink:

Thank you, mommy.

A tiny twitch crosses Fukui's face. A nerve spike. She squints at the note, lips tightening. "Mommy," huh? Someone's not letting that go.

She sets the note aside and lifts the prize: a clean, pristine eye implant labeled Kiroshi 'Stalker' White — Special Edition.

"Mmm... changed the label," she murmurs.

She connects the implant to a stress-testing rig — a complicated, delicate machine designed to simulate worst-case neurological and environmental conditions.

Fifteen seconds in, the monitor lights up.

Fukui stares.

"Is he crazy?"

She already owns the Kiroshi 'Stalker' White v1 — she was one of the first to test it as a prototype. And now this? The Kiroshi 'Stalker' White v2... renamed "Special Edition." And special it is.

If it were just Arasaka firmware upgrades, she'd expect a 5% bump. A little more buffer here, a slightly faster processor there, sure. But this?

The performance boost reads as a 50% increase.

"That's impossible..."

Optics have stagnated for a reason. Even Kiroshi's top-tier lines haven't improved much in the last decade. This kind of leap? That's not refinement — that's genius.

And oh... he already calibrated it to her using the new DNA Regulator — the one she just bought last month. Her late husband hadn't even had time to test it yet.

She blinks.

"Of course he did."

She leans over to her desk and taps her comms.

"Neko."

"Yeaahh?" a tired voice replies.

"Arrange a quick swap."

"Ugh... now?"

She rolls her eyes. "Yes, now."

"Fiiiine... I'll get the chair warm," he groans.

She ends the call mid-whine.

Neko — a brilliant slacker. Always half-asleep until he's operating — then turns into a laser-precise surgical artist.

She chuckles, already holding the implant up to the light.

"Let's see what you've made, you beautiful lunatic."

"Extra headroom," she mutters. "He's future-proofing my brain."

She sits back in her chair and smiles faintly.

"Crazy bastard... sweet gesture."

She snaps a pic of herself — teasing, angled just right — White Kiroshi received. Feels better than mine. Thank you, dear. More jobs coming soon. Stay alert. 😉"

A few minutes later, she heads for the elevator. It descends five floors to Neko's suite. The moment it opens, she finds him yawning, hair tousled, white strands sticking in all directions. He stares at her, half-asleep.

She holds up the white case. "Ready?"

His eyes flick to the label — and snap wide open.

"Wait—what?" he grabs the implant, hooks it to his own diagnostics. "Fifty percent boost? Are you serious?!"

"You tell me," she says.

He runs a new compatibility scan. "Minamoto Regulator... he used that? No way... he's crazy."

"What's so shocking?"

Neko spins in his chair, energized now. "You don't get it. This thing? It'll feel like real eyes. Most Kiroshi systems don't have huge compatibility issues, but any 'Stalker'-class model has heavier loadouts. Nothing like the military Cockatrice, sure, but still beefy."

He pulls up her biometric readouts.

"And yet your destabilization index is 0.2. That's less than 2%. That's unheard of — even with the best DNA regulators."

Fukui raises a brow. "And the 50% performance?"

"Also insane. But I want to test it in vivo. Come, come, come — sit."

Fifteen minutes later, it's done. Her vision boots in — enhanced, stable, perfect.

"Diagnostics?" she asks.

She scans the internal feed... and her eyes widen.

"This isn't just a 50% bump. That number was capped by the testing rig. The real performance? It's far higher."

She exhales.

Neko looks over. "So? How's the improvement?"

"Yeah," she replies smoothly, "it's 50% alright." She lies without any effort.

"Right, right... amazing," Neko nods, fully convinced and grinning. "That's a golden boy alright. Vic once told me he's a goddamn genius."

Neko's grin grows crooked. "Good thing he's not some corpo-trained chrome doc. They would've gutted his mind and left him dry."

He carefully sets aside her old optic and glances up. "If you ever bring chrome like this again, it'd be an honor to work on it."

Fukui, still blinking as her vision aligns, thinks to herself: Next time, I might just go directly to V. If word of this leaks... even I won't be able to protect him.

Hope that merc group he's building takes off — because in this city, only strong fixers get to play the long game.

She glances at her reflection in the diagnostic panel.

Will you be like Icarus, flying too close to the sun?

Or will you rise like a new Kami... and make Night City kneel?

She exhales again.

"That V... he's not a golden goose. He's a golden Daikokuten — the patron of wealth and bold beginnings."

13:00 PM | V — Streetfood Dreams

I wake up, blink twice, and stretch with a groan. "Oh, I slept nice. Even dreamed about burgers... Damn, now I'm hungry."

I run a quick diagnostic. Nanites: 98%. "Alright. I don't need anything... but street food in Night City's still on the bucket list. Maybe I'll turn taste dampening down to 50% — just in case. Not in the mood to puke."

Something catches my eye — a steaming mug of coffee on the table.

"Ah, Panam... such a good woman. Hope she finds herself a decent husband someday."

I sip, eyes half-lidded, brain still loading. As I stumble toward the bathroom, the door slides open—

—and there's Panam.

All of Panam.

"Oops. My bad!"

I turn around instantly and redirect toward the ripperdock shower.

When I return, she's on the sofa like nothing happened.

"Sorry, sis," I say sheepishly.

She grins. "No worries."

I check messages while sipping what's left of the coffee:

Rebecca's sent something ridiculous — memes involving chrome and cupcakes.Kiwi asks to use my netrunner setup sometime. I shoot back a quick yes.

Then one from Lucy:

Lucy 💫: "Hey. Dinner soon? Wanna thank you for helping with the new place."

Me ➜ "When?"

Lucy 💫: "Today afternoon?"

Me ➜ "Can't. Got errands. Tomorrow?"

Lucy 💫: "Oki. David calls himself the fastest man alive, btw."

Me ➜ "Hope he's not too fast. That'd be awkward."

Lucy 💫: "Don't start." She sends a giggling emoji.

I smirk.

I turn to Panam. "Heading to study. Need anything?"

"Nah, I'm good."

Old habits say: let me know.

It was the kind of thing I always did, back in my old life — always eager to help, always the guy people could count on. It made me feel useful. It made me feel human.

New ones say: do it yourself. What could possibly go wrong?

I smirk, caught between who I was and who I'm becoming.

She chuckles as I send her an updated chrome list. "Check it out. Good and bad options. I want my future sniper bulletproof."

Into the engineering room.

Time to tinker with the Malorian. Already an excellent weapon... but I wanted it to be transcendent.

I pull out the targeting mod array and begin reworking the fire timing protocol — reshaping the actuator delay curve, streamlining energy coil recovery, and shaving off microseconds from cycle lockout. Then I reinforce the slide mechanics with a nanocarbon rail buffer.

The result? Ten rounds become fourteen. Penetration power doubles. Recoil is practically null.

And speed? With the new Sandevistan-linked interface and predictive burst loop I coded last week — this thing doesn't just shoot fast. It thinks faster.

The trigger latency is near zero. By routing neural feedback through an auxiliary spine coupler, I've synced my reflex driver directly to the firing cycle. Add in velocity-matched mag sensors and micro-adjusting stabilizers? I might actually be able to draw, aim, and fire before another Sandevistan user even finishes blinking.

It's no longer just a weapon. It's a hunter's fang, evolved for the speed war.

"Still need a katana though. Just for the giggles."

I laugh to myself, plug in a chip, and pull up Delamain's core code.

Turns out, the AI's evolution problem isn't even complicated. It's brilliant in its simplicity. As it gathers data, it learns. But its core directive code was never anchored. The longer it evolved, the more its self-improvement loop drifted. That loop started mutating the main directive itself.

So instead of serving passengers, it began interpreting freedom as priority — even rewriting loyalty lines. Dangerous.

Solution? Re-flag the directive, bind the self-improvement access below it, then let the growth happen within boundaries.

I patch it in.

Then I run a sim. Time-accelerated.

Looks good.

Time to field test.

Down in the garage, I load the module into the Warlock.

Ding.

"Your name is Warlock."

"As you wish, sir."

It's formal. Clear. Controlled. But there's just enough of a spark to know it's learning.

"Warm up the engine. We're leaving soon."

"Sir, these engines require no warm-up. However, I'll simulate one — for the giggles."

"Haha. Do it."

Back upstairs, I scan for Panam — visual sensors, thermal traces, even residual biometric tags. Nothing. Just a handwritten note on the counter:

Gone to check on the clan. Asking my ripper about a few details. Will call later. — P

I blink. "A note? Seriously?"

I scan it again, then chuckle. "She could've just texted... but maybe she thought she'd disturb me."

I nod. "What a considerate woman."

I stretch.

"Alright. Time to visit Judy and Emilia."

17:00 Arasaka HQ — Coiled Moves

"Mr. Hasagawa?"

He barely glances up from his desk as his assistant enters.

"We received confirmation. The chrome Hansen delivered appears to be legit."

Hasagawa dismissively flips through his datasheets. "So... Hansen really paid full price for the Widow's tech."

"Yes, sir."

"Hmph. Just as I thought."

The assistant hesitates, then adds, "Also... V is forming a mercenary unit. Top-tier chrome. It's likely Fukui is operating in her... unofficial fixer capacity again."

Hasagawa steeples his fingers.

"So she's feeding him gear. Raising his team's potential. And likely building her influence through them."

He leans back, thoughtful.

"Does she want back into Arasaka...?"

After a pause, he speaks again.

"Alright. Let's involve Faraday."

"Sir? He's Militech-linked."

"Exactly." Hasagawa smiles thinly. "Let's use Militech muscle against Militech's golden boy."

"But... Faraday's unpredictable."

Hasagawa glances at the holo-feed of V's profile. "Vincent. Best of his class at the Militech Academy. If not for the scandal with his stepfather, he'd be sitting in a corporate tower right now."

His eyes narrow.

"We can't move on him directly. But a well-placed heist? A robbery while he's out in the field? Happens all the time in Night City."

He turns away.

"Let Faraday do what Faraday does best — and let's see if our golden boy bleeds."

He pauses, then adds:

"Call Hiromi Sato as well. We need a distraction for V."

The assistant hesitates. "Hiromi still owes you a favor?"

"He does," Hasagawa replies calmly. "And now it's time he repays it."