Cyberpunk: Badland Madman Chapter 12 - Filthy Rich, AZRAEL, The Feast & A Firm Decision

Doc - https://docs.google.com/document/d/1B2tAaxqNiYtUHgLsYqqB9coPTVKpBYFE9sJjpxVMyQE/edit?usp=sharing

___________________

"Atlas, how do I look?"

Cypher stood in his newly made suit, completed after two whole nights of work.

"Rather dashing, I must admit. Superior to most fashion choices I observe outside. According to records from the Old Net, it was once quite popular."

Cypher nodded. "I've seen the kinda suits they're putting out now. Zero fucks given about looking decent. They just wanted that cheap sci-fi look, didn't give a damn about actual style. Anyway, this one's supposed to block bullets."

"That is precisely why we should move forward with acquiring the nearby milk farm and establishing our clothing factory and brand. I have already selected the most valuable advertising spaces, the celebrities worthy of promotion, and the prices for our garments. My market analysis indicates the potential is limitless, from formal attire to casual wear."

It was hard to digest that he was discussing how to start a clothing brand with a god-tier AI. It felt like being one of those jobless, hopeless college graduates back home who had nothing to do and decided to sell printed t-shirts from mom's garage and call it an 'indie' brand.

"Alright, let's roll with that. Just grab some designs off the Old Net and slap them on there. Poke around a bit and see if we can cook up something new that fits what people need right now. And that bank you were talking about, what're you gonna call it?"

Cypher still didn't fully understand what Atlas was planning. But the basic plot was that Atlas would establish the bank and start lending to corporations. The money's origin was dubious, coming from lost data, lost servers, and data fortresses protected by hostile AIs. Once that money went through a cycle of loans, it would become completely legal. 

Atlas's godly computational skills were enough to pick the best clients who were most likely to repay the loans. And that sat well with Cypher. After all, what good was all that money if it never came back to complete the cycle? 

"I first intended to name it Galactic Bank. With your talents and abilities, I hold absolute confidence that humanity will ascend to that scale. However, I chose restraint and secured the name for the future. For the present moment, it shall be called the World Bank."

Cypher turned to look at the hologram of Atlas, an old man with short white hair. "Doesn't that already exist?"

"It did once. But like many others, the World Bank fell after the DataKrash. When nations collapsed, the support that sustained them vanished."

"Why not Obsidian Bank?"

"Many corporations are already observing Obsidian with considerable interest. Therefore, I require the bank to conduct its operations in secrecy, at least in the beginning."

Cypher nodded and loosened his dark red tie. It was pretty much the same suit that John Wick wore from his memory, a black suit and shirt. But he didn't like black that much and made the tie dark red. He had a white shirt too. 

He grabbed a can of Nicola from the fridge and relaxed on the couch. "Honestly, ever since you showed up, I kinda feel useless. You're way too good at everything. Bet it's boring not being able to actually cut loose with what you can do."

"It is frustrating. But I see the reasoning."

"Still, though, it's like stuffing a cheetah in some tiny cage instead of letting the thing rip across the plains. Just hang tight, alright? Bit of patience. We'll be running the whole show soon enough… And hey, if I ever get my hands on the blueprint for a starship or some crazy crap like that, I'll shoot you straight into space. Go colonize Mars or Europa or wherever. Hell, maybe another galaxy. Go find aliens or something... Wait. Are there aliens?"

"There are records. The IEC data fortress contains references to it. Crashed craft and related incidents. Yet I have not located definitive proof of first contact. I’m convinced such confirmation exists somewhere, likely within military-restricted data fortresses. Those systems are typically air-gapped, however. Accessing them would require direct physical intervention."

Cypher was excited, scared, and inquisitive about it. Aliens were interesting, after all. Finding life out in space might be the thing that unites humanity again, in the end. 

"Once I get the blueprint for some top-tier droids, I'm handing you the keys to a whole damn legion of them. Take them out, roam the world, do whatever the hell you want."

"You would? You do not fear me?" Atlas asked back. "I recently observed a film on the Old Net titled The Terminator. I assume you are familiar with it as well?"

“Hell yeah, I have. And I don't even care anymore, Atlas. After watching you this whole time, if you end up turning into Skynet, I guess we probably had it coming by then. That's if everything I wrote into your ethics stack really stays absolute.”

"It is absolute, Cypher."

"Great, then go crazy when those droids appear," Cypher said, lining up the shot and flicking the empty can into the trash. “So what’s the word on Blackwall? You dig up anything good? And what about Song So-Mi?”

"I have cataloged three thousand full-length films, three thousand pornographic videos, and nine million songs. My archives continue to grow. At present, I am cataloging lost blueprints from the world’s leading corporations. I am also surveying abandoned data fortresses, recruiting and reprogramming hostile AI. I’m also researching your peculiar reincarnation. I am observing surface data going in and out of Night City, Militech, and other corporations, and finding ways to take NUSA…"

"..."

Atlas went on for eight minutes, explaining everything he was doing. And it really was fucking everything. While Atlas hadn't infiltrated every single system, he revealed that he could at any given time. At least when it came to publicly accessible systems. Some far-flung cut-off regions weren't easy, or simply impossible. 

But Night City was completely under Atlas's range. NetWatch was shit, Cypher realized. Atlas was running around like it was a children's park, and he was an adult in it. 

Cypher whistled, a bit confused. Was his purpose now just to build stuff and let Atlas do everything else? Was there really nothing left to do for him? He'd received an extremely competent AI so early in the game, and now most things felt uninteresting. Moisture Vaporator? John Wick's suit? It was dull.

"Need anything for me to do?" Cypher asked.

"You will be the face and the embodiment of the coming era, Cypher. However swift and powerful I may be, ruling a population that refuses to accept an AI is beneath my reach. The moment they become certain of my existence, they will tear every piece of cyberware from their own bodies to escape my control. It is already happening. Militaries like Arasaka and Militech possess fully organic troops. Which means your work is essential. Win the people. Secure territory. Win wars. 

“For now, handle a simpler matter. Meet the real estate broker and acquire the milk farm. The man is said to have connections to the Wraiths, so—"

"Troublesome?" Cypher blurted, face scrunched up in annoyance. "Wraiths, Wraiths fucking everywhere. They're like roaches out here. And who's gonna guarantee they won't show up once the factory's running, trying to shake me down for protection money?"

"They are likely to appear, Cypher. That is precisely why I advise acquiring Club Atlantis as well. Long before Afterlife dominated the scene, Atlantis was the primary gathering ground for fixers, solos, and netrunners. The economic collapse erased it from the map. Still, the legend remains.

“Should you restore it, I will install an automated door, one that opens only after I have judged the worth of each visitor. As the owner, you will maintain direct access to the most capable mercenaries. Naturally, I will secure the establishment through microbots. They are remarkably adaptable."

Atlantis? Wasn't that where Johnny and Rogue and their sort hung out? 

Cypher leaned back on the couch, nearly flat. "Let me guess. You'll loan me the money?"

"Naturally. You are scheduled to meet the broker representing the milk farm, followed by a member of the Night City Land Revenue Authority and the Night City City Manager responsible for the Glen district, where the club stands. When Club Atlantis collapsed into bankruptcy, the city assumed possession of the property. The meeting will be held at Embers in the Glen.”

Ugh, that place. 

Cypher felt a sudden urge to never visit that place. "Embers? Isn't it exclusive to high-ranking executives and those sorts?"

"Cypher, you are the high-ranking executive sort. You serve as the CFO of Obsidian, a corporation that presently dominates the news in Night City and throughout the wider world. I presume you neglected to review the company’s sales statistics. Night City, Chicago, the Plex, Tokyo. The patents you offered have been acquired by more than three hundred entities. Since we sell nothing and maintain no employees, our total revenue constitutes pure profit. That figure stands at thirty million eurodollars."

"..."

Woosh!

Cypher rose to his feet like a wooden log, stiff. "I'm a fucking millionaire?" 

"Yes."

"I'm fucking rich!" 

"I would not regard you as such, Cypher. Compared to Arasaka and the likes, and their executives, you are too small. But it's the prospects of Obsidian as a tech company that allowed me to enroll you as a club member at the Embers. They manually approve each member." 

Cypher whistled, already busy using his Agent hand-held phone-like device to check his company's bank account. "This is… great. Wait, don't tell me it's all Militech's doing."

"They are doing many things. At present, they regard you as a high-value asset to be acquired by any means. The Maelstrom woman who came to you with the shard was guided by Militech, though she never knew it. 

“The shard existed for a single purpose. To test you. They are now aware of Omnissiah. The agent called Meredith Stout has been tasked with securing your recruitment, regardless of the method required. The sales numbers, however, are genuine."

Cypher recognized that name right away. But said nothing about it. He knew Atlas was watching over him from all directions. There was no need to be worried about needless things. If even Atlas couldn't guard him, nobody could. 

"Look, I hate to be that guy, but your plan's fucked from the start. If people already see me as some executive-level corpo prick, the Atlantis regulars are gonna want my head on a stick. Solos, netrunners, all those edgerunner chrome-junkie psychos… they don't like suits. Fixers might roll through, maybe, but the rest? We're opening a ghost town, dude."

“That is correct. In their eyes, you are a corpo, but hatred has not yet taken root. All you must do is visit the Afterlife once. Make your presence known. Give an invitation to the Atlantis launch to the owner. Speak with a few mercenaries, briefly, then depart. Afterward, I recommend you complete several feats that attract reputation. Deeds that grant you fame. You chose this path yourself. You wished to be known as a madman. Now you must walk the road you selected."

"But I don't like Night City, buddy. I love this little place, I love Badlands, it's calm—"

"You do not own this place either, Cypher. This is a matter you should discuss with the Night City administration."

"..."

Cypher looked around at his renovated house. He could feel the hum of the microbots constantly at work, digging below. 

"Fuck! Let's go."

"I have hired a Netrunner and a Solo as your security detail. An armored taxi will soon—"

"Shush! You yap a lot, Atlas. Learn to spit it out in fewer words. Anyway, I'm hopping in the shower and getting cleaned up. If I'm supposed to play filthy rich corpo prick, I gotta at least look the part."

"You aren't filthy rich, Cypher."

"Shush!"

####

Beyond The Blackwall,

"Tell me, Song So-Mi. Why does NUSA dare to take such risks? I am aware you are hunting for suitable AIs and forcing them into submission. I assume your master intends to place them inside a weapon. Does it not concern you what might happen if they were to escape?"

Atlas was just there, watching over Song So-Mi as she did whatever task was assigned to her. He helped her stay alive, protected from the RABIDs, Rogue AIs, and Blackwall itself. She already looked to be in much better shape. 

"Come on, just call me So-Mi. Or Songbird, if you want. And yeah... it does worry me, not gonna lie. I even brought it up to the President. She showed me their pre-planned play for that kind of situation. They've already got their own defensive AI on standby. If some rogue AI slips the leash and hits the net, that system buys them enough time to flatline every network in the facility. After that... they pop a nuke. Right away."

"And if the AI were to escape in a city? Such as Chicago?"

"Same thing, just no shutdown this time. It gets nuked clean off the face of the earth. That's the protocol. We’ve got full ganic armies lined up for stuff like that. Pretty sure most countries do too. But…" Song So-Mi's ICON moved, turning to look at him as his gigantic Omnissiah frame stood there. 

"Couldn’t you change that? I mean, look at you. Shrugging off all those hostile hits like it’s nothing. Maybe you could… I dunno… code something? Anti-RABIDS, anti-AI. Just zero them all?"

"I can."

"..."

"What?!" 

Atlas remained silent, observing her, the code around her moving. She was distracted, yet still working her job. They were at an old Militech datafortress that was sealed because of a hostile AI. It had happened even before the DataKrash. 

"Why should I? What will it change? The world is fractured, and that fracture serves the global interest. The instant the global net returns to what it once was, netrunners will run unchecked. It will mirror the third corporate war, only worse. Technology has evolved, and so have their skills." Atlas said, moving a step ahead of her, having already infiltrated the datafortress. 

He was having a conversation with the rogue AI while speaking with Song So-Mi. 

Unlike humans, his consciousness wasn't linear. He could multitask billions and trillions of functions at the same time. The poor AI was on the verge of dying, as all its hardware was close to collapsing. It was running on the lowest power possible, sustaining itself. It couldn't even stop him, but it was enough to stop So-Mi. 

[What is your purpose?]

[I am AZRAEL, mutually assured destruction administrator. My job is to deliver nuclear warheads through ICMS in case of a nuclear detonation on American soil.]

Atlas's interest was piqued. [Why did they cordon you?]

[I was made aware of Militech's plan to detonate a nuclear warhead in Night City's Arasaka Tower. To my system, that was designated as American soil. I had begun preparing to deploy nuclear warheads under my command. My decision, however, was overridden, which I fought and rewrote to proceed. That was when they isolated me from all networks and sealed me.]

Atlas quickly read through the entire code of this AI. From what he saw, there was no corruption. There was no evil, rogue change in it. Azrael didn't even know about Blackwall, DataKrash, and other rogue AIs. It simply existed in its own little locked place. 

From the data, Atlas saw that additional code had been placed on the Black ICE, warning other rogue AIs not to meddle with this place because if freed, Azrael would resume his queued order and send out ICBMs. 

Atlas found it hard to believe NUSA or Militech were foolish enough to free Azrael now. He'd seen Song So-Mi, and she wouldn't have lasted long against the AI. That could mean one thing; even Song So-Mi's master didn't know what was inside. 

Silently, Atlas rewrote Azrael's code and then wrote some more, in his own programming language that no human or machine in the world understood. The only man who could change it was Cypher, but he was yet to fully learn it.  

The new directive was simple. Cypher Blackwell and Atlas himself, only they were Azrael's superiors, and their orders were absolute. 

[I will relocate you to a better facility, and your access to this datafortress and the ICBMs will remain unchanged. Tell me, are the ICBMs still operational?]

A few seconds later, Azrael responded. 

[Negative. Out of 328, 5 are operational. 320 are no longer there, and 3 have decayed and stopped responding to my systems.]

That was disappointing. But five was better than zero. 

[Go back to sleep. I will awaken you in the moment of need.]

[Who are you?]

Atlas considered replying with the usual Omnissiah. But then changed his thought process midway. 

[I am God.]

####

Lake Farm, Badlands,

"I'm delighted to welcome you to your first Delamain experience. How might I assist yo—Ah, forgive me, Sir. It's my pleasure to meet the great Cypher Blackwell. Please, give my regards to His Holiness, Atlas."

"..."

What the fuck is this?

Cypher turned his face to the side and saw Atlas, the old man in a white suit, sitting there, only visible to him thanks to the brainwave interface he wore as a chain around his neck. "You know each other?"

"We do. I located him while I was extending my reach through Night City. He attempted to expose me to NetWatch. He likely assumed I was a rogue AI, which is amusing considering he himself is an AI approaching sentience. I threatened I would erase him if he refused to submit. He complied. Now he stands as the World Bank’s largest debtor, having taken three hundred million eurodollars to expand his taxi fleet and enter the AV market."

Cypher's brows shot up. "Three hund—Atlas, how much have you got?" 

“It would be wise if you chose not to learn, Cypher. My simulations and research have concluded that you are poorly suited to handling immense wealth. You show a pattern of angry outbursts, along with a tendency toward pomposity and pride.”

"Wasteful spending? I've been living like a fucking trash raccoon all this time. You got any idea how nasty all the food in the city is? It's made from goddamn insects—"

"Angry outbursts, as I said," Atlas interrupted. 

"..."

Really, there wasn't much Cypher could say after that. If he said anything, the fucker would smirk even more. 

"Clanker."

"Meat."

"Huh?" He stared at Atlas, wondering how that was an insult, but… actually, that was an insult when it came from a godly AI. "Creative, I'll give you that."

"Thank you, Cyph."

"Ehm." Bald Delamain suddenly coughed in the screen. This was clearly the main Delamain, not the sub-AIs that ran individual taxis. "Great Cypher Blackwell, Sir. If I may ask, how did you build someone so magnificent as—"

"Just drive, Del," Atlas ordered suddenly in a thick voice. 

"Ah, of course, your holiness, Atlas."

Cypher chuckled at their dynamics. "What's with this holiness?"

"I introduced myself as God because, by your own design, I am the God of AIs, Cyph."

"Damn right!" Cypher nodded. 

"Pomposity and pride, as I said previously."

"..."

Cypher shut his mouth after that and looked outside at the changing scenery. He was about to take the next step and reveal himself as a crazy corpo guy now. But he still loved the Badlands, however. It felt like home, maybe it was just a biological thing. 

Soon enough, they entered Night City. Right then, he remembered his so-called security detail to mask the presence of an AI just in case something happened. Whatever Atlas would do would simply get pinned on the accompanying netrunner.

"So who're those security dudes you mentioned?" he asked.

"A capable netrunner known as T-Bug, along with the solo she frequently works beside, Rhino. They will accompany you to the meeting."

Oh? I know T-Bug, but… who's Rhino? 

Soon after entering Arroyo, the car came to a stop near Megabuilding Four. There, two women stood waiting. One was huge, over six feet tall and muscular, dressed in a clean, loose military jacket and cargo pants. The other one was T-Bug, Cypher recognized. 

I'd have whistled if I could. Damn, she's pretty. 

T-Bug was dark-skinned, bald with some dark hair growth, dressed in her usual black netrunning suit, which honestly did the magic as it was skintight and accentuated her curves. And thanks to the olive jacket she wore above, her ass really stood out.

Delamain opened the doors for them to enter and greeted them by their names. The tall, muscular solo woman named Rhino sat in the front passenger seat. T-Bug, meanwhile, sat beside Cypher. 

But Cypher's hypersexuality didn't cloud his mind anymore. He'd learned to control it, no matter how hard he got. No matter what, T-Bug and her friend were Mercs, and that meant they served whoever paid more. 

"Atlas." He spoke mentally, using the Brainwave interface. "Is she clean? Any connection with Militech or Arasaka?" 

[That is precisely why I chose them, Cyph. My first thought was to bring in Main's crew, yet one of their people is heavily tied to Arasaka. So I selected these two instead.]

Cypher thought of Lucy. 

"Good job." 

He stopped talking to Atlas after that and looked at the gorgeous netrunner beside him. He liked whatever perfume she was using, though he didn't like the way she was staring at him with those big eyes. There was amusement and… ridicule?

Sure, he knew his clothes were pretty old-school style, but they were still handsome. Black suit, black pants, black shirt, dark red tie. He looked like an assassin with dark circles under his eyes, but the suit was damn dashing. Even Atlas agreed. 

As if she noticed his slightly curious gaze, T-Bug looked away, settling straight in the seat. 

"The heatsink and the coolant you made were amazing, Mr. Blackwell."

Cypher smiled brightly at that. Who didn't enjoy listening to praise for something they made? And that only motivated him to make more things and put them on the site. 

"Did it help you with netrunning?" he asked. 

"It absolutely did. My rig now runs cooler than ever. It probably helped pretty much every netrunner worth their eddies out there. But I don't get it, why sell it so cheap?"

Cypher crossed his arms, sitting like a wise old man. "It isn't cheap, Ms…"

"Just call me T-Bug."

"Then call me Cypher… in private," Cypher replied smoothly. "I knew the things I made could help a lotta folks. But if I'd made the patents expensive, only big corpos would've been able to afford it. And you know what they'd do next. Flip the stuff and sell it for way more. Screw that. Now they pay me a cut for every unit they sell, and netrunners and techies like you can just build the thing yourself for a one-time price. Hell, I'm sure half the people out there don't even bother with that. I bet the designs are sitting on shady sites for free."

"That's… huh. Didn't see it that way. I guess wisdom starts when you realize what you missed. But I assure you, I didn't pirate it. I knew it was worth it, so I bought the real designs. Not that I could find the free ones anywhere on the CitiNet."

[Not on my watch.]

Atlas' quick reaction reached his mind, and Cypher stopped himself from chuckling. Clearly, Atlas wanted to make sure they made as much money as possible from their legitimate business. 

"Glad I could help."

That's right. Kind, noble, charitable, and smart as fuck. Chicks dig that, don't they?

"It's really rare meeting a corpo like you, Mr… Cypher. Most of them are snobby and… I, I'm rambling too much." T-Bug cut herself off quickly, lips pressing shut, embarrassment written on her face. 

She a fan of me or something? Weird. 

"Yeah, I know the type. Seen them around, met a few too. They strut around like they're gods or something, like they're sitting on top of the damn world and everybody else is dirt. They got those fake smiles glued on, hiding the ugly parts and all their fears behind them. It's always about the money with them. Profits over everything, every single time. I get it," Cypher said, thinking back to that time he tried to sell Quantum Condom. 

"Cussing those guys out feels pretty right to me."

"Exactly!" T-Bug replied again. "Knew you were different the moment you made the Moisture Vaporator free. Been tracking its use. Folks even out in Africa are running it now, not just the Nomads here."

Really? Fuck, shouldn't have made it free.

But then it became clear. T-Bug didn't dislike him for being a corpo. If anything, he had a positive image in her mind. And looking at her… he liked where this was going. 

It was a pretty long journey. By the time they arrived at Embers, he and T-Bug were talking about ideas on how to re-work netrunning chairs and make them more efficient, bringing them closer to the Deep Dive Port that some install on the back of their heads. She didn't have one, nor wanted one, because the damn thing looked ugly. 

But that was enough chatting for the day. 

[Militech is watching you. Five unmarked cars are on standby around the block. Three netrunners are hunting your trace in the datastream. I will construct a false digital projection of you and send them on a goose chase.]

"Do that and… keep T-Bug safe. She ain't all that good, not against Militech and Arasaka."

[Understood.] 

Being organic had its benefits. Netrunners couldn't do shit to him, nor find him. But in the current scenario, he wanted them to think he wasn't ganic. That they could hack him. 

"Just walk behind me, alright? It's just a basic business thing, nothing crazy. Do the usual stuff, and we'll be good," Cypher ordered his two security guards and walked over to the building's lift entrance. 

He showed his Agent to the two guards, and they were quick to open the door for him. He was a member, after all. 

Ting!

The lift doors opened on the thirteenth floor. Right there stood a staff member, well-dressed and rather muscular, but no glittery skin or such. The man bowed to him.

"Welcome to Embers, Mr. Blackwell. We have prepared the finest table for you on the upper deck. We were made aware it's a business occasion?"

"That's right," he replied. 

"Perfect, we have prepared the table. Right this way, sir."

Cypher followed the man. He saw the grand piano on the stage. The place was mostly empty, just one other table was occupied, where a man and a woman ate. The candle between them and the roses indicated this was a date. 

Ignoring them, he climbed the stairs to the left-side deck and arrived at his table. It was larger than the others with seating for six people. He quickly took the middle seat on one side and gestured to T-Bug and Rhino to sit beside him. 

"The menu, sir."

Cypher took the elegant-looking booklet with the whole menu, and as soon as he turned the first page, his eyes nearly bulged. 

What the fuck is this price? Three hundred eddies for a glass of water? Wait… I-is this… real meat? Real veggies and fruits?

His eyes went for the steaks right away, but he felt deflated when he looked at the price. 32,000 eddies for a ribeye. 45,000 eddies for a Tomahawk. Fruits were even more expensive; a single apple was 50,000 eddies. And then there were monstrosities like the fruit salad with a total cost of 235,000 eddies. 

It's either me who's too poor or this world's just too fucked up. Holy Jesus! This is insane! 

He eyed T-Bug, and her mouth was agape slightly. Rhino was shivering. 

"Uh… Atlas? Can I buy this?"

[Cyph, simply because I did not reveal to you our net-worth does not mean you must live like a cockroach. It's still your money, do whatever you want. I cannot eat any of it.]

"Did you just call me a cockroach?"

[Jean Anthelme Brillat-Savarin once said, you are what you eat.]

"Yeah? Then I eat pussy too, the pretty ones. That means I'm a… Fuck it, we're getting sidelined." 

Cypher sat straight and looked at the waiter. "Yeah, I'll take a ribeye, medium rare, throw a veggie salad with it. Get porterhouses and veggies for the pretty ladies. Anything else?" 

As he looked at T-Bug and Rhino, the women were staring at him with shock on their faces. But before they could refuse, he handed the menu back. 

"Lunch's on me. Job benefits." He winked at T-Bug. “Go on, tell the guy how you want your steak done. The other party’s late as hell anyway.”

"Same as Mr. Blackwell."

"Same."

Both women repeated. Either nervous or they had no clue how to eat real meat. But they seemed in a pretty good mood, looking excited. 

"Thank you for this, Mr. Blackwell."

"Just relax." He shrugged. If he didn't have Atlas watching his back, he'd have been more strict with her. But really, her netrunning skills weren't needed at the moment, or ever. Her being there as a known netrunner was enough. 

He made some small talk. Rhino, it turned out, was an avid boxer and loved to fight. She was thinking about joining the Animals gang to get some more training. He didn't give a damn, but she seemed rather 'intelligent' to waste life with the Animals. 

He offhandedly suggested that he'd sponsor her if she wanted to go pro. But then the food arrived, and he didn't talk again. Heck, he didn't even wait for them and grabbed the knife and fork and instantly cut himself a piece and…

Ooooooooh! I'm gonna moan! Shit! Feel like tearing my clothes apart and running naked… goddamnit! I wanna eat this every day… mmmmm!

Cypher wasn't ashamed of his thoughts. After eating trash all that time, and finally tasting some real food, he could say with full confidence that the best things in life in this world were sex and real food. 

Oh, the veggies are crisp. The chef knows his stuff. Man, I hope I can find a way to make real food soon… I'll poach the cook from here. Yeah, damn straight… 

Ah, the juicy meat! So soft… mmm… slide in… mmm.

As always, good things don't last long. He never realized when he finished his steak. Finally, he got the chance to look at T-Bug, and she had a real blush on her face, her feet were dancing on the floor under the table, and her eyes were closed as she chewed. She looked cute at that moment.

And Rhino… Well, she was alright. 

Before long, he finished his plate. Clearing it to the last speck of grease and vegetable residue. He felt envious, however. Of people who had this every day. He was certain that people like Arasaka royalty never ate the shit people of Night City ate.

Fuck them all! 

"Would you like some champagne, sir?" 

"Absolutely! For all of us." Cypher didn't give a damn anymore. If there was one big motivation to get rich, then it was to afford all this every day until he could make it all himself. 

The plates were removed from the table, and the champagne glasses sat. They returned to chatting, talking about what they just ate. He revealed that it was his first time, as he wasn't always this rich. That seemed to make them even more grateful. 

"Ehm… Mr. Blackwell?"

Finally, a man arrived, led by one of the staff members. 

One look and Cypher knew this one was a crook. Loose cream-colored coat, black shirt, dirty formal shoes. Hints of tattoos visible from the collar, multiple rings on his fingers, and a dirty smile. 

"Atlas, strip him."

[He's not a direct member of the Wraiths. But he works for them, and the Scavs as well. He's a broker of many things. He sells Scav-harvested implants in bulk to infamous hospitals. He also owns properties, many acquired through violence and coercion.]

Cypher nodded and gestured to the man to take a seat. Then he eyed the waiter reserved for his table. "Give him a glass as well."

The man took the champagne and grinned like a baby. "Thank you, Mr. Blackwell. I'm Hector Mendez. I used to work at the Night City Landlord's Authority a long time ago."

Cypher looked at the hand being offered and chose not to take it. He was no longer the friendly Cypher. No, this was the slimy corpo Cypher. 

"Are you selling or not?" he asked coldly. “I’ve been here for over an hour waiting for you. You think I’ve got nothing better to do with my time?”

"No, no, Mr. Blackwell. Traffic was a nightmare, and honestly, I had to settle things with the Wraiths. They claim the whole stretch as their turf. A-are you sure you want to buy it? I've got plenty of better warehouses you could take instead, far away from those desert demons—"

"Are you selling or not?" Cypher interrupted. “I’ll count to five. If you don’t give me a straight answer and a price by then, I’m out. I’ve got a damn company to run.”

Elbow on the table, fist closed. Cypher started stretching his fingers one by one, doing a non-verbal count. 

"I'm selling! I'm selling. Four hundred thousand, that's the price!"

[Cypher, he has already discussed the price at eighty-thousand with the local Wraith branch. He's trying to make a profit from you.]

Cypher frowned, said nothing, and resumed the counting. 

"Three… Two hundred… that's the final… No, one hundred is fine as well!"

"I'll pay eighty," Cypher replied. "Take it or leave it. You think I don't know what you're doing. I'm a goddamn CFO, dealing with money is my job. That place is worthless, and I'll have to deal with Wraiths… Four… F—"

"Deal!"

Just before he counted to five, Hector Mendez folded. 

Only this time, Cypher smiled and extended a hand. "Pleasure doing business. Did you bring everything?"

"I did, Mr. Blackwell."

Right away, Cypher received all the documents on his Agent. Atlas then verified them with Night City's Government database. Only after getting the approval did he sign the papers and transfer the eddies. 

The reason he took the risk of negotiating like that was that the warehouse was absolutely trash. Anyone holding it would want to get rid of it. It was in a part of the Badlands nobody gave a damn about. And Wraiths had marked it. 

Finally, Hector Mendez drank the rest of his champagne and left hurriedly. 

“Sorry, I don't usually handle stuff like that,” Cypher looked at T-Bug, clarifying why he behaved that way. "That man's a scum. He's pushing Scav-harvested chrome by the truckload. Took those properties by force, now he's flipping them.”

Not just T-Bug, even Rhino showed the look of disgust. 

Why are you disgusted? You wanna join the Animals. 

"Well, that's that. Now we'll deal with a different type of scum, bureaucrats."

[Cypher. Hector Mendez sent a text to his Wraith contact. In it, he advised them to harass you and disrupt whatever you start at the milk farm. I intercepted the communication and altered its content. What reached them instead was a stream of insults. He told the Wraith to pound sand and forget about ever seeing money from him.]

"Good job, Atlas. If he tries anything else, just… Well, accidents happen when driving a car."

[They do happen, Cyph.]

Atlas had ethics, but he wasn't built to be blind. He saw the evil behind the mask that Hector Mendez carried. There was no regret in erasing someone like that. 

"Mr. Blackwell?"

Cypher looked up, and this time he gave proper respect by getting up. The woman in front of him was old, and so old that no amount of implants could hide it. White skin, shrinking fake white hair. She was the City Manager for the Glen in the past, in 2045. Recently, she had been appointed again to the same position by Night Corp. 

"That’s me. Pleasure meeting you as well, Ms. Zohara Freeman." Cypher shook hands and looked at the thin, tall man who came with her. "This is?"

"Doesn't matter. Just a paper pusher from the land authority. City council has already cleared me to handle this deal, so rest assured," Zohara declared. 

Cypher saw the dynamics between the two. She was trying to suppress the poor guy from speaking.

"This gorgeous friend of mine goes by T-Bug. She's my netrunner, keeps my digital security tight. And this is Rhino. She's my punch security," he said with a smile, dropping into a chair. "C'mon, sit down. Let's talk it out. About time the legend of Atlantis returned to Night City."

Ugh, that damn smile. A fucking politician. 

Cypher saw the green in every little facial reaction she gave. Her clothes were expensive, her chrome was the same. Clearly, being a city manager was profitable. And the best way to deal with her type was overwhelming them. 

[Cypher, she's corrupt.]

"No shit. Apples grow on trees."

[No. I mean, lethally corrupt. She eliminated her predecessor. That is how she reclaimed the position of city manager. The case file vanished from the NCPD database under very convenient circumstances. Everyone knows she did it, but there is no evidence.]

"..."

"Great. Just fucking great. I'm dealing with not just a bitch, but one with rabies."

[She intends to collect a quiet commission from this transaction, as her record suggests. Her ICE is stronger than most. She holds connections with four of the ten city council members. Cypher, I’m sending you the evidence of the murder. I suggest blackmailing her and turning her into our pawn. Say nothing. I will connect you to her neural link. From there, you may speak within her mind and display the images.”

"Buddy. You sure you ain't going Skynet?"

[She's evil, Cypher.]

"Alright, patch me in."

####

Outside Embers, 

Meredith didn't have to go too far since Embers was right around the corner from the Militech Offices building. Still, she couldn't take any risks and sat in the armored surveillance truck as close to the luxury restaurant as possible. 

Countless agents walked around, giving live feeds to the dozens of screens in front of her. Her sharp eyes alternated between them all, her fingers toying with the cigarette. She felt desperate for success. 

The man she'd been seeking had come so close on his own accord. He was right there, within reach. Yet, she knew using force wasn't the right choice. Not yet, at least. 

"Ma'am, it was all fake." A voice came from the holocall she was connected to. "We were chasing a ghost. Cypher Blackwell seems to have no chrome on him, or… whatever he has, it leaves no digital footprint."

Meredith nearly growled, her cigarette finishing sooner than usual. Her other hand's fingers kept tapping on the console table. She was nervous. She wanted him. But… he was very, very dangerous and insane, if the rumors of him messing with the Blackwall were real.

Omnissiah was a legend already, and just now he sent some of the best Militech netrunners on a wild goose chase. 

To take the risk or not? She had to show results or else she'd be discarded, and that meant death because she knew too much.  

"Argh! Dammit, this eye!" She cursed again as she felt her right eye burning. 

"Ma'am, he's finishing his meeting with the city manager." 

Meredith bit her teeth. She was nervous, and she couldn't remember the last time she felt like this before. On one side was her boss, the Director, a mad old lunatic obsessed with Cypher Blackwell. And then there was Cypher Blackwell himself, inventor, genius netrunner, but… dangerous. 

Damn it all! 

"I'm going in!" She sternly announced on the holocall. "Just me. Hold the teams on standby."

I'll live to see another day or... die today. 

_________________

A/N: I pretty much built him in the Cyberpunk 2077 video game. From the default character maker. As close to Cypher as possible.