Cyberpunk Vigilantly

[I know I'm fucking stupid]

The city was always noisy, but tonight it felt different. The usual hum of cars and distant chatter couldn't drown out the tightness in my chest. It was already late, and Diego hadn't come home. He'd only gone out to meet some friends. Something he did all the time but this was the first time he hadn't answered my calls. I told myself he was just caught up in some game like that one called Cyberpunk 2077 he had me get him or another stupid reason boys his age get distracted. But the knot in my stomach told me otherwise.

I left the apartment without a second thought, barely stopping to grab my jacket. The streets were familiar, too familiar. My breath quickened with each step, my heart pounding louder in my ears. Where was he?

When I finally saw him, my world froze.

There he was, lying in a dark alley, surrounded by a group of guys I recognized instantly. They wore those same gang colors I'd seen sprayed on every other wall recently, their faces hidden under hoods and caps. Diego was on the ground, curled up, not moving. Blood matted his hair, and his face was barely recognizable under the bruises.

"Diego!" I screamed, rushing forward. But one of them stepped in front of me, blocking my path.

"Stay back, chica," he sneered, his voice thick with an accent I couldn't place. "This ain't your business."

"This is my brother! What the hell did you do to him?" My voice shook, but I wasn't sure if it was from rage or fear. Maybe both.

"He got what was comin'," another one said, his tone casual, like they'd just knocked over some trash cans instead of nearly killing my little brother. "Tellin' him to stay out of our way. But you—" He pointed a finger at me, his grin widening. "You've been a real pain in our ass. Maybe next time, you'll think twice before sayin' no."

I remembered him, he had tried to hook up with me in the past, but I had turned him down. My blood boiled. Every word they spat at me was another spark on the fire already raging inside. I wanted to scream, to lash out, to make them pay right then and there. But one look at Diego, lying so still on the pavement, stopped me. I could barely breathe as I dropped to my knees beside him, my hands trembling as I touched his cheek. He was still warm, but there was no response, no flicker of those bright eyes that always looked up to me.

"We'll be back, and next time... you better think real hard about what you say to us," the first guy said. They turned and walked away, their laughter echoing down the alley like a twisted lullaby.

I didn't move until I was sure they were gone. Then, with shaky hands, I dialed for an ambulance, barely holding it together as I tried to explain what had happened. The rest was a blur the paramedics, the hospital, the doctors telling me things I didn't want to hear. All I knew was that Diego was in a coma, and they didn't know if he would ever wake up.

I sat by his bedside, my hand wrapped around his, the only warmth in that cold, sterile room. My mind kept replaying the scene over and over, that smug grin on the gang leader's face.

How could I have let this happen? I should've been there sooner. I should've protected him. 

But regret wouldn't change anything now. All I had left was the anger, simmering deep in my gut, waiting to explode. They had taken my brother from me, and they thought they could get away with it. They thought I'd just sit back and let them destroy our lives.

They were wrong.

I squeezed Diego's hand as if he could feel the promise I was making him. 

"I'm going to make them pay, Diego. I swear."

The hospital room felt colder each day. The beeping of the machines was the only sign that Diego was still alive. His face, once so full of life, now looked pale and fragile, almost like a stranger. Every time I saw him like that, lying motionless, I felt a piece of myself break.

I should have been there sooner. I should have protected him.

After a week of restless nights and endless worrying, something inside me snapped. I couldn't just sit there anymore, waiting for a miracle. The police weren't going to do anything they never did. Those bastards were still out there, walking free, probably laughing about what they'd done. I knew what I had to do.

That's when I remembered Dad's things.

Mom never liked to talk about him much after he died. I was too young to understand at the time, but I knew he had been in some kind of trouble before it happened. She kept all his stuff packed away in the closet, hidden behind boxes of old clothes and photos. It was like she wanted to erase any trace of him from our lives, as if forgetting would make the pain go away.

But I hadn't forgotten.

Late one night, after Mom had gone to bed, I made my way to that closet. The door creaked as I opened it, the musty smell of old memories hitting me like a wave. I hesitated for a moment, my hand hovering over the boxes. This was wrong I knew it. Dad wouldn't want me to go down this path. But then I thought of Diego, lying in that hospital bed, and the hesitation vanished.

I pushed aside the boxes, digging through the layers of forgotten things until I found what I was looking for a worn, leather duffle bag. I dragged it out, my heart pounding in my chest as I unzipped it. Inside, neatly packed, were Dad's things—a few old photos, his dog tags, a faded jacket... and the gun.

It was heavier than I expected when I picked it up, the cold metal sending a chill through my fingers. I had seen it before, back when Dad was still around. He'd kept it hidden, but I had always known where it was. It was a part of him, just like his smile or the way he'd ruffle my hair when I did something right.

Now, it was a part of me.

I sat on the floor of that closet for a long time, staring at the gun in my hand. This wasn't just about revenge no I had to end them before it was someone else they got their hands on. If I didn't do something, they'd come after me next. Or worse, they'd come after Mom. I couldn't let that happen. I wouldn't.

I found a box of bullets tucked away in the corner of the bag and loaded the revolver, my hands trembling slightly. I'd never fired one before, but that didn't matter. I was going to learn. I had to. 

As I stood up, I caught a glimpse of something else in the bag a small notebook, its pages yellowed with age. I opened it and saw Dad's handwriting, neat and precise. It was filled with notes, addresses, and names I didn't recognize, but one thing stood out: a map of the city, with certain locations circled in red. These were places he had been before, places he had marked for some reason. Maybe they were connected to the gang, maybe not. I know it was a stretch, but it was a start.

I shoved the notebook into Dad's jacket pocket, along with the gun, and zipped up the duffle bag before putting it on. I couldn't let Mom find out what I was planning. She'd try to stop me, and I couldn't afford to be stopped.

Before leaving the closet, I paused, looking back at the boxes and the life we'd tried to leave behind. 

"I'm sorry, Mom," I whispered, closing the closet door as quietly as I could. 

But deep down, I knew I wasn't just apologizing to her. I was apologizing to Dad, too, for what I was about to do.

I wasn't his little girl anymore. I was something else now, someone who was going to do whatever it took to protect what was left of my family. Even if it meant using the one thing he had always kept hidden.

Gotham had always been a dark city, but it felt even darker now. The streets that used to be filled with life during the day seemed to twist and turn into shadows at night, hiding dangers in every corner. But I wasn't afraid. I couldn't afford to be. Fear was something I had to push down, buried deep inside if I was going to do this.

I had a plan. It wasn't perfect, but it was all I had. The gang that had hurt Diego wasn't that big ten members, maybe less, spread out across the city. Small-time thugs trying to make a name for themselves not that I expected them to with the likes of Joker running around. I was going to hunt them down, one by one, like the animals they were. No mercy, no hesitation.

The first one wasn't hard to find. They were arrogant, too confident in the fact the Bat hadn't found them or gone after them. I found him leaning against a wall in some back alley, a cigarette dangling from his lips. He didn't even see me coming.

The sound of the gun was louder than I expected, the recoil jarring, but I hit my mark. He crumpled to the ground, his cigarette falling from his mouth, smoldering on the wet pavement. I stared at him, at the life draining from his eyes, and waited for the regret to hit me. It didn't. I pulled up the gun and aimed it at his head before pulling the trigger a second time.

One down, nine to go.

I moved through the city, funny how no one was paying attention to a young girl on her own, I gripped the hand of the gun, It was heavy in my hand, the notebook filled with Dad's notes guiding me to one of his old contacts who was willing to help me find the others. He had given me a note detailing where they normally could be found. Each member of the gang fell the same way quickly, a bullet to the chest or the head. I wasn't a killer, but I had become something close enough. The thought should have scared me, but it didn't. All that mattered was getting them all before they could hurt anyone else.

But as the bodies piled up, so did the unease. There was something else out there, something watching me. I felt it every time I moved through the city, a prickling on the back of my neck, an itch I couldn't scratch. I'd catch myself glancing up at the rooftops, expecting to see someone or something looking back at me. But there was never anything there. Just shadows.

It was the fifth night when things started to go wrong.

I was stalking one of the last members, a twitchy guy who kept checking over his shoulder as if he could sense I was coming. I followed him through the alleys, waiting for the right moment to strike when that feeling hit me again stronger this time. I was being watched. I could feel eyes on me, tracking my every move.

I spun around, gun raised, but there was nothing. Just the same dark rooftops, the same empty streets. But the feeling wouldn't go away. My heart pounded in my chest, and I forced myself to focus. I couldn't let this get to me. Not now.

But it did. It threw me off and made me second-guess every move. I was too slow, too hesitant, and the twitchy guy slipped away, disappearing into the shadows before I could take the shot. I cursed under my breath, frustration boiling over, but there was no time to dwell on it. I had to keep moving. 

I forced myself to shake off the feeling, to ignore the sensation of being watched, and continued my hunt. But it was always there, that nagging presence, just out of sight. It made me reckless, desperate to finish what I'd started before whatever or whoever was out there caught up to me.

The seventh member was the hardest. He didn't go down easy. We struggled in the alley, the gun slipping from my grasp as he tackled me to the ground. I could feel the cold, wet pavement against my back, his weight pressing down on me as I fought to get free. His hands wrapped around my throat, squeezing the air out of my lungs, and for a moment, I thought it was over.

But then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement—something on the rooftop above us, a flash of black in the corner of my vision. The pressure on my throat lessened for just a second, and I took my chance, kicking him off me and scrambling for the gun. I fired without thinking, the shot echoing through the alley, and he fell, blood pooling around his head.

I lay there for a moment, gasping for breath, my heart hammering in my chest. I looked up at the rooftop, expecting to see someone or something there. But it was empty, just like before. 

Who was watching me? And why?

I didn't have time to figure it out. There were still three more to go, and I wasn't going to stop until they were all dead. But that feeling of being watched never left me. It was like a shadow, always just out of reach, but always there, waiting. 

I didn't know what was coming, but I knew I had to be ready. Whatever or whoever was out there, they weren't going to stop me. 

Not until I finished what I started.

The night was suffocatingly silent, broken only by the occasional drip of water from a nearby drain. but tonight, it felt like the city itself was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. I could feel it too, that tension hanging in the air as I tracked the last of them. The final member of the gang that had torn my life apart. I had cops meet me this morning and I had lied to them when they asked me if I would ever try and get revenge. And they believed me, what could a 16-year-old girl do on her own? I was pretty skinny and wasn't all that strong, so they had no reason to believe I was the one who had anything to do with those killings.

My body ached from the fights, bruises blooming under my clothes, but I pushed through the pain. It was almost over. One more, and then it would be done. I could finally go back to Diego, knowing I'd made them pay for what they did to him.

But as I crept through the alley, that familiar feeling washed over me again that eerie sense of being watched. I paused, my grip tightening on the gun, eyes scanning the rooftops. I couldn't see anyone, but I knew he was there. He'd been following me for days now, like a shadow I couldn't shake. At first, I thought it was just paranoia, but now I was sure of it. Someone was out there, watching my every move.

But tonight, I couldn't afford to be distracted. Not with the end so close.

The last guy was just ahead, leaning against a rusted dumpster, oblivious to the danger lurking in the shadows. I took a deep breath, steadying myself as I raised the gun. This was it. The final shot. I could almost feel the relief waiting on the other side of that trigger pull.

But before I could fire, a sharp crack rang out, a gunshot, but not mine. Pain exploded in my side, and I staggered back, clutching my abdomen as blood seeped through my fingers. I looked down in shock, seeing the dark stain spreading across my shirt.

No... not like this. Not when I was so close.

My vision blurred as I tried to stay on my feet, the world spinning around me. The guy I was after sneered, lowering his smoking gun, ready to finish the job. I raised my own gun, but my hand was trembling too much to aim properly. I was going to die here, and I hadn't even finished what I'd started.

But then, out of nowhere, he appeared.

A dark figure dropped from the rooftop window, landing between me and the guy who shot me. The impact was swift and brutal the man barely had time to react before he was on the ground, his gun kicked away, and a boot pressing down on his throat.

I knew who it was before he even looked up. The red helmet, the leather jacket it was unmistakable. Red Hood.

He didn't look at me as he dealt with the guy, his movements quick and efficient. I could only watch, my vision growing dimmer by the second as blood continued to pour from my side. I tried to call out to him, to ask why he was here, why he was helping me, but my voice wouldn't come. 

He finished off the last gang member with a swift, final blow, then turned to me. Removing his Helmet and looking me in the eyes. For a moment, I thought I saw something in his eyes pity, maybe, or understanding. But it was gone as quickly as it came. He knelt beside me, pressing a hand to my wound, trying to stop the bleeding. But I could tell from the look on his face that it was bad. Too bad.

"I couldn't just let them kill you," he said, his voice rough, almost regretful. "But this was always going to happen. You know that, right?"

I nodded weakly. I had known. From the moment I started this, I knew it would end with my blood on the pavement, just like Diego's. But I had to do it anyway. For him.

"Rest, kid. You did what you set out to do. I'll make sure they don't get back up."

I wanted to thank him, to tell him something anything but the darkness was closing in too fast. The world around me faded, and I felt myself slipping away, the pain in my side dulling to a distant throb.

But just as everything went black, I heard another voice. Not Red Hood's this one was different, colder, echoing in my mind like a whisper from another world.

**"You have fought with a heart full of vengeance, child. You have suffered, and in your suffering, you have found strength. But this is not the end."**

I couldn't see anything, but I felt... something. A presence, powerful surrounding my mind.

**"I am the God of Vengeance, and I offer you a choice. Your life here is over, but I can give you another. A new purpose, in a place where evil thrives just like here. You can help those who suffer as you have suffered, and in doing so, bring them peace."**

The words seeped into my consciousness, filling me with a strange sense of calm. A new life... a chance to keep fighting, to keep helping those who couldn't help themselves. It was what I had always wanted, even if I hadn't realized it until now.

**"Do you accept, child?"** the voice asked, gentle but firm, as if knowing I could not refuse.

"Yes," I whispered, or maybe I just thought it. It didn't matter. I knew my answer.

The darkness around me shifted, changing, and I felt myself being pulled away from Gotham, away from the pain and the blood and the cold.

The darkness faded, replaced by a dim, eerie glow. I found myself in a room so dark that the shadows seemed to twist and move, as if alive. In the center stood a figure, shrouded in shadow, its form indistinct yet powerful. I knew instantly who it was—the God of Vengeance. The presence I had felt when I was bleeding out in that alley had now taken shape before me.

"Welcome, Yumi," the figure said, its voice like a whisper carried on a cold wind. "You have accepted my offer, and now, you stand before me to claim your gifts."

I swallowed, my heart pounding in my chest. This wasn't a dream I knew that much. I was dead, or at least I had been. But now, here I was, in the presence of a god.

"You may ask for three gifts," the God of Vengeance continued. "But choose wisely, for each one will shape your path in the new world."

Three gifts. The thought was overwhelming, but the first thing that came to my mind wasn't for me it was for Diego. I had fought for him, bled for him, and even in death, I couldn't stop thinking about him.

"My first wish," I said, my voice trembling slightly, "is for my brother to wake up from his coma. I want him to be okay."

The god was silent for a moment, and I feared that maybe I had asked for too much. But then, it nodded. "Your wish is granted. Your brother will awaken, and he will be whole again. But you must understand that you will never see him in this life."

I nodded, the weight of the god's words settling in my chest. Diego would be okay that was all that mattered. I smiled as tears dripped down my face.

"And your second wish?" the god prompted.

I thought for a moment, trying to consider what I would need in this new life. I remembered the fights, the way I had struggled to survive, and the way Dad's gun had become an extension of my will. I needed more than just strength I needed tools to help me grow, to become stronger, faster, and more capable.

"I want a system," I said, "something that will help me train, something that can store what I need."

The god's shadowy form seemed to shift, as if considering my request. "A system for training and storage... it can be done, but there must be limits. You may only store and train using human capabilities—no gods, no superhumans. The balance must be maintained."

I nodded again. It made sense, I supposed. Too much power, and I could become a threat even to the god that was helping me. "I accept."

The god's voice was softer now, almost approving. "Very well. The system is yours. Use it wisely."

I felt a sense of relief wash over me, knowing I had two powerful tools at my disposal. But there was still one more wish. Before I could ask, the god spoke again.

"The world you will be heading to is not like the one you left behind. It is a place where technology and flesh intertwine, where the line between man and machine is blurred. It is a world of chaos, corruption, and opportunity. You will be sent to the year 2075, to a city known as Night City. There, you will find your purpose."

Night City. It was that game he would always play in his room, I had to hear him talk about so many different characters and whatnot, even Watched the anime with him.

A screen materialized in front of me, glowing with options. It was a character creation screen, like something out of a video game. I could adjust my appearance, choosing everything from my hair to my eyes to the smallest details of my face. But as I scrolled through the options, I realized that was all I could change. My abilities, my skills—those were locked. It bothered me and made me feel like I was being put in a box, but there was nothing I could do about it.

Frustrated but grateful, I set to work crafting my new appearance. I kept some of my old self, the things that reminded me of who I was, i had changed a few other things. Sadly I couldn't add muscle so I was still pretty skinny.

When I finished, the screen faded, and the god's voice returned. "And now, your final wish?"

This was it. The last chance to ask for something that could tip the scales in my favor. I thought of Night City, of the stories I had heard from my brother, of the legends like V and Adam Smasher, people who had pushed the boundaries of what it meant to be human. But I wanted more. I wanted to be more.

"I want to be special," I said slowly, the words forming in my mind as I spoke them. "More special than V, more special than Adam Smasher. I want to have a higher threshold for cybernetics, to be able to handle more than anyone else."

The god was silent for a long moment, and I could feel its gaze piercing through me, weighing my worth. Finally, it spoke. "Your wish is ambitious, but it is granted. You will have the highest threshold for cybernetics, beyond even the greatest legends of that world. But remember power comes with a price. You must be careful not to lose yourself in the process."

Before I could respond, the world around me shifted again, the dark room dissolving into light. I felt a rush of air, cold and biting, and then

I was falling.

The next thing I knew, I was submerged in icy water, gasping for breath as I broke the surface. The lights of a sprawling city loomed above me, bright and blinding, and I realized with a start that I was naked, floating in the murky waters of Night City.

[this story wont be updated every week, cause im fucking stupid and am already working on like three other fanfictions. blame Dave for this, for those who know cheers. Come on choom, I know you have some in that Chrome doom of yours, so just hand em over. Them power stones.]