Cyberpunk: The Ultimate Saga

Bayerson quickly sent a private account number to Lena Fox, then just as quickly deleted the message. In Night City, caution was the price of survival.

Banks had become shadows of their former selves after the corporate wars. Most institutions now existed only to provide basic services: deposits, withdrawals, and small-scale lending. If you wanted to use your money outside the city, you'd have to withdraw it or move it to a national-level bank. Otherwise, your Night City bank card was just a fancy piece of plastic elsewhere.

Unless, of course, you were someone important. Then your face could open doors anywhere.

The root cause of this isolation wasn't just war—it was a devastating network virus that shattered the global web. The once-connected world had splintered into isolated data islands. In other words, for most people, where you were born was where you would die.

Ding!

Payment received: ¥1,000.

Bayerson's eyes lit up at the notification flashing across his mobile screen. His fist clenched slightly with excitement. A thousand credits, just from reporting one small scavenger den. What if the next job was bigger?

He knew scavengers were low-tier threats. They weren't even considered real gangs—more like loose bands of six or seven criminals using the name for cover. No structure, no protection. If they got purged, nobody cared.

Now, the real gangs—the Tiger Claws, the Six Street Gang—those were dangerous. They had numbers, power, and worse, they had backers. Some major corps funded them from behind the curtain, keeping their hands clean while the gangs did their dirty work.

Bayerson wasn't suicidal. He had no interest in going after the big fish. Not yet, anyway. For now, he was content to nibble at the edges, profiting from chaos where he could.

Humming to himself, he returned to his desk and began scanning for the next potential payday. He wouldn't report the location of the scavenger den immediately. No, that would be too obvious. He'd wait a few days. Night City had its rules—blend in, don't attract attention, stay alive. If the timing was too convenient, people would start asking questions.

"Hey! Bayerson!"

His co-worker Tarkov strolled up, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "Wanna grab a drink after work?"

"Sure!" Bayerson smiled.

Tarkov blinked in surprise. "You? Drinking? Did the world just end?"

Bayerson usually kept to himself, buried in his work and burdened by family obligations. He wasn't the kind of guy who hung out with bachelors or partied late. Tarkov was the exception. They were close—maybe the only real friendship Bayerson had.

Tarkov was a bachelor living in the flashy Kabuki District. Despite having the same job and salary as Bayerson, he owned his own apartment there. That kind of success wasn't due to inheritance—his parents died years ago. No, Tarkov built his empire himself, one piece of intel at a time.

When drunk, he had spilled his secrets: how to create anonymous accounts, how to sell information, how to avoid detection. He had been Bayerson's mentor in the shadows.

"What's up with you today?" Tarkov asked, dragging over a chair. "You're not heading home to the wife?"

Tarkov was well-connected, but his bond with Bayerson was genuine. Bayerson had once helped him navigate his first weeks on the job. He had even arranged the funeral when Tarkov's parents were killed.

In Night City, death was casual. Maybe it was drugged-out junkies loitering near your apartment. Maybe it was a stray bullet from a gang fight. Maybe your implant fried and triggered a psychotic episode. Despite cybernetics extending life potential to over a hundred years, most residents didn't even make it to forty.

Tarkov's parents were just innocent bystanders—collateral damage in a turf war. He couldn't avenge them, so he sold information to those who could. A chance encounter had linked him to a corp security officer. One provided the intel, the other brought the firepower.

To the corporate elite, gangs were nothing more than moving ATMs—opportunities wrapped in tattoos and violence. As long as they weren't ambushed, the security squads usually wiped the floor with minimal resistance.

Fueled by hatred, Tarkov fed them intel nonstop. He played a major role in cleaning up the Kabuki District from behind the scenes.

"You've been too tense lately," Tarkov said, grinning. "Let's go get some air—and some drinks. My treat."

"No way," Bayerson said with a grin. "Tonight, I'm treating."

"Ohhh? Well then, I won't hold back!"

---

Kabuki District. Underground hideout.

"So… what the hell is this thing?"

Lily Cross stood with her arms crossed, a lollipop stuck between her lips as she stared at the black-gold safe inside the transparent shielded box.

"No idea," Lena Fox said while casually slurping ramen, eyes fixed on her screen. "Nothing useful online either."

That was to be expected. Most people had never even seen a safe like this. The average citizen's annual salary couldn't even afford a bottom-tier one. And this? This was elite corp-grade—black-gold class.

Even among their crew, they had only seen images of safes like this in training manuals. Physical examples were practically myths.

"Mike, any thoughts?" Ethan Cross nudged Mike Taylor, who was leaning against the wall.

Mike shook his head. "I could blow it up, sure. But crack it open safely? Out of my wheelhouse."

Ethan turned back to Lena. "What did Leon say?"

"He's busy," Lena muttered, eyes still on her console. "Doesn't have time for a 'trivial matter.'" She didn't look up. Compared to the mystery box, the situation with Evelyn Parker was weighing more on her mind.

"Only a guy like Leon Black would call a black-gold safe 'trivial,'" Ethan sighed. Normally, something like this would warrant an emergency meeting, a full vote, at least some direction.

But Leon hadn't even shown up.

Which meant something else—something bigger—was happening.

"His orders were to find someone else to open it," Lena said. "But we stay anonymous. No public movement."

As she spoke, the chat log on her screen flickered. Most of it looked like corrupted text. But Lena knew better. It was encrypted speech. A private line—Leon's direct feed.

He might not be present, but he was watching. Listening.

"I knew it," Lily muttered, biting into her candy. "Classic Leon. All mysterious and manipulative."

"He's not the type to show his hand," Ethan said. "So... who do we trust with this thing?"

"Did you hear what happened to Pedro?" Lena suddenly asked.

Ethan blinked. "Yeah. Petrified. Biotech's most 'loyal' partner."

"So," Lena said with a knowing smile, "you see what I'm getting at?"

---

Outside the Cloudtop Club, neon lights flashed and synthetic music drifted through the air.

"Is this where she worked?" V asked, gazing at the holographic figure posing provocatively under the pink lights.

"Hm." Judy hesitated. "Anyway, go check. I'll wait out here."

"You're not coming in?"

"I'm... not suited for that place."

Fair enough. V didn't press.

She entered Cloudtop.

A wave of warm, perfumed air hit her. The atmosphere was intoxicating. Soft electronic music whispered in her ears, accompanied by the sound of gentle breathing and moans—engineered to stimulate emotions and desires.

At the reception desk, a blue-haired woman smiled politely. "Welcome to Cloudtop."

"Nice setup," V said, glancing around.

"Of course. Cloudtop is Night City's finest emotional experience lounge. We satisfy the deepest needs of the soul."

Smooth. Rehearsed.

"I'm here to see Evelyn Parker."

"One moment." The receptionist typed rapidly. "I'm sorry. Evelyn's been unavailable lately. But I can recommend another doll guaranteed to suit your taste."

"Fine. Let's see what you've got."

"Please scan your personal terminal."

V hesitated. The terminal was like a digital ID—loaded with private, verified info. Most clubs wouldn't even ask for it.

But this was a lead.

She scanned it.

The receptionist blinked at her screen. "Interesting. You've been matched with two dolls—one male, one female."

V chuckled. "What can I say? I have range."

"Please choose your soulmate," the receptionist said, bowing slightly. "They await your touch."

"I'll go with the lady."

"Excellent. Please choose a security password. In case you wish to terminate the experience."

V smirked. "In the next life."

"Wonderful." The receptionist motioned to the locker area. "This is a weapon-free zone. Please store your gear."

V complied and was guided toward the lounge.

"Your soulmate awaits you in Box Six. Enjoy your journey."

And with that, V stepped deeper into the heart of Cloudtop, one step closer to unraveling Evelyn Parker's mystery.

pàtreøn (Gk31)