Welcome to part five of my Cyberpunk solo campaign set around the year 2078. And yes, I know that the banner graphics still say it’s 2078 even though this session might play in 2079 already. I just wanted to make sure that everything in this playthrough happens after the main storyline of V in the computer game Cyberpunk 2077.
Charm and a crew of three others are on their way to a gig in the Badlands. As a side note, I used Mythic to create a short character profile for each member of the crew… that’s how Boris is mentally… challanged. For Anya, the meaning table threw out a word pair that could have described Lord Vetinari or… just her being a little bit quiet and sort of mysterious *airquotes*.
Scene #21 No brain… no Scooby Snaks
Brookland Street, Rancho Coronado, Santo Domingo – 12-29-2078, 23:18
Boris’s booming footsteps faded around the corner of the warehouse, followed by the unmistakable growl of a motor. Charm braced herself for whatever conveyance he’d managed to secure. A small bus rounded the corner – a battered Mahir Supron FS3, painted in a sickly shade of green and clearly past its prime. It looked like something salvaged from a scrapyard and haphazardly put back together.
Charm rolled her eyes, muttering more to herself than anyone else. “Oh look… Shaggy and Scooby Doo coming in the Mystery Machine,” she said dryly, the sarcasm dripping from every syllable. The absurdity of the situation – hauling Militech weaponry with this ragtag crew in a dilapidated bus – was almost enough to make her laugh. Almost.
Anya turned towards her, her face still hidden beneath the shadows of her hood. “What did you say?” she asked, her voice low and cautious. Charm waved it off dismissively. “Nothing important,” she replied curtly, not wanting to elaborate on her assessment of their transportation situation. Cramming into the Supron was an exercise in discomfort. Kai practically disappeared beneath a pile of gear, Boris took up most of the space with his sheer bulk, and Anya sat rigidly beside him, radiating an unsettling stillness.
The bus rattled along for about fifteen minutes, the suspension groaning under the strain. The landscape blurred past – crumbling buildings, flickering neon signs advertising long-dead products, and the ever-present grime that coated everything in Night City. Finally, they reached the gas station. It was a desolate sight – a single pump island surrounded by cracked asphalt and overgrown weeds.
Boris brought the Supron to a halt 200 meters from the station, his face etched with a rare expression of caution. “We should scout the location before driving any closer,” he rumbled, surprisingly sensible for once. Charm nodded in agreement. This wasn’t exactly a high-security operation, but complacency could get you killed in Night City.
“I’ll go ahead,” she offered, already sliding out of the bus. “Give me a few minutes.” She moved by utilizing the sparse vegetation as cover. A cluster of overgrown bushes provided a decent vantage point from which to observe the gas station. Charm crouched low.
The place was deserted. No guards, no vehicles, no signs of life whatsoever. Just the wind whistling through the broken windows of the abandoned convenience store and the faint smell of decaying gasoline. She raised a hand in a brief signal, waving the crew forward. It wasn’t exactly reassuring, but it was better than nothing. The silence felt heavy, pregnant with potential danger.
Old CHOOH2 filling station, Sierra Sonora, Badlands – 12-29-2078, 23:58
The silence stretched taut, a fragile thread about to snap. Charm linked to the gas station’s security system. It wasn’t just a simple lock; it was a layered algorithm designed to deter casual intrusion. She cursed under her breath – whoever set this up had taken their time. Finally, with a satisfying click, the gate shuddered open.
“Alright, move!” she barked, turning to the others. “Kai, assess the weapons. Boris and Anya, load everything into the Supron. Now! We don’t have all night.”
Kai, his face pale in the dim light, was already running diagnostics on the Militech hardware – a motley collection of assault rifles, grenade launchers, and what looked like a prototype railgun. Boris and Anya were wrestling with crates filled with ammunition and explosives, their movements clumsy but determined. Just as they had the last crate halfway into the Supron, the silence shattered.
The unmistakable whine of engines cut through the night air, growing rapidly louder. Charm spun around, her hand instinctively reaching for the pistol holstered at her hip. “Get down!” she yelled, shoving Boris and Anya towards the meager cover of a rusted fuel tank. She dove behind a stack of discarded tires, the world exploding into chaos moments later.
A hail of bullets ripped through the air, tearing chunks from the surrounding buildings. The attackers weren’t Aldecaldos – their tactics were too aggressive. “Wraiths!” Charm shouted over the din, her voice tight with urgency. “These aren’t Aldecaldos! Wraiths, I think!”
Boris and Anya responded instantly, unleashing a torrent of fire from their heavy weapons. Boris was wielding a modified HMG, its muzzle flash illuminating his face in brief bursts of orange light. Anya had a grenade launcher, each shot sending a concussive blast that shook the ground. But they were outgunned, outmaneuvered.
Then it happened – a sharp crack echoed above the gunfire, followed by a sickening thud. Charm’s blood ran cold as she saw Boris slump forward, his massive frame collapsing onto Anya. A crimson bloom spread across her jacket, staining it a horrifying shade of red. It was a sniper shot, precise and deadly. Brain matter splattered across Anya’s clothing, a gruesome detail to the brutality of the attack.
Anya’s reaction was immediate and chaotic. Her eyes wide with shock and grief, she unleashed a volley of fire without looking, her aim completely off. A scream ripped from her throat as one of her own bullets found its mark – Kai, who had been hunkered down behind crates in the back of the gas station, crumpled to the ground, clutching his arm.
Charm weaved between bursts of gunfire, narrowly avoiding a hail of rounds that chewed through the air around her. Two bullets finally found their mark – one tearing into her left shoulder, the other impacting against her armored thigh. The impact sent jolts of searing pain through her body, but the armor held, absorbing most of the force. She returned fire with controlled bursts, taking down two attackers before she could register the horrifying scene unfolding behind her. Anya lay motionless on the ground, a single crimson stain blooming across her chest.
Now it was just her, against the remaining two Wraiths and the badly wounded Kai. One Wraith moved with unnerving speed, flanking her position. Charm squeezed off another shot, hitting him square in the chest, but he barely seemed to notice, continuing his advance.
The second Wraith unleashed a burst from his weapon, forcing Charm to dive behind a crumbling wall for cover. Her armor absorbed another bullet, the impact sending waves of pain through her body. She gritted her teeth, ignoring the agony and focusing on the task at hand – survival. After three agonizing minutes, the gunfire abruptly ceased. A silence descended, heavy and oppressive.
Charm cautiously peered over the wall, scanning the area for any sign of movement. The Wraiths were gone, vanished into the night as quickly as they had appeared. She slowly crawled towards Kai, his face pale and streaked with blood. He was conscious but barely, his breathing shallow and ragged.
“Kai… hold on,” she whispered, rummaging through her medkit. “Just gotta patch you up.” Her hands moved with practiced efficiency, applying pressure to the wound in his arm and administering a painkiller. The weight of what had just happened settled upon her – Boris’s brain splatter, Anya’s lifeless form, Kai’s desperate situation. This wasn’t a mission; it was a massacre. The flickering neon sign above the gas station seemed to mock her efforts, casting long, distorted shadows that danced across the scene of carnage.
Scene #22 – Opportunities should be taken
Old CHOOH2 filling station, Sierra Sonora, Badlands – 12-30-2078, 00:12
The silence after the gunfire felt heavier than the bullets that had ripped through it. Charm scanned the desolate landscape again, her senses on high alert. That’s when she saw it – a vehicle parked about fifty meters away. It was undoubtedly one of the Wraiths’ escape vehicles.
Driven by urgency, she sprinted towards it, dodging debris and kicking up dust. As she drew closer, she recognized the Mizutani Shion, but unlike anything she’d ever seen before. This wasn’t some stock model; it was a heavily modified machine, off-road capable, bristling with weaponry and sporting the ominous word “Wendigo” painted in stark blue lettering along its sides.
Charm reached the vehicle and quickly assessed the situation. She plugged her neural interface into the Shion’s system, bypassing the initial layers of encryption easily. Within seconds, she had full control. A predatory grin stretched across her face – this was more than just transportation; it was an opportunity.
She spun the ignition and roared back towards the CHOOH2 station, weaving through the wreckage and debris. The Shion responded instantly, its engine throbbing with power. She found Kai leaning against a crumbling wall, looking significantly better but still pale and shaky.
“Can you drive the Supron?” she asked, her voice clipped and efficient. Kai nodded slowly. “Yeah, I think so. Just need to… stabilize.”
“Good,” Charm said without preamble. “You follow me in that thing. I’ve got the coordinates for the drop-off point.” She helped him into the Supron, ensuring he was secure before turning her attention back to the Shion.
With a deafening roar, the Mizutani Shion sprang to life, its engine echoing across the desolate landscape. Charm accelerated, pulling away from the gas station and leading the way towards Night City. Kai followed in the battered Supron, kicking up dust as he struggled to keep pace. The drive was surprisingly calm – the adrenaline had subsided, leaving a hollow ache in its wake.
Brookland Street, Rancho Coronado, Santo Domingo – 12-30-2078, 00:32
The Shion ate up the miles with ease, its powerful engine devouring the distance between them and the city lights. Soon, the sprawling metropolis loomed on the horizon, a glittering tapestry of neon and steel. They reached the old warehouse in Rancho Coronado without incident. Charm pulled up alongside the Supron, opened the gate, and guided Kai inside. He maneuvered the van through the entrance, before cutting the engine and getting out.
Charm digitally locked the gate behind them, a satisfying thunk echoing in the silence. She sent a brief message to her fixer Donia – “Job done. Casualties. Boris and Anya KIA, Kai wounded. Awaiting payment.” Then she turned to Kai. “Get into the Shion,” she ordered, her voice devoid of emotion. “We’re going to a Medpoint.”
As Kai climbed into the passenger seat, Charm couldn’t help but glance at the Mizutani Shion. It was a sleek, powerful machine – far too good for just one job. Nobody would miss it, right? she thought, a flicker of amusement crossing her face.
But leaving it as is felt… wrong. She needed to cover her tracks. “I’m taking this to a garage,” she muttered to herself. “Just need a new paintjob. Something subtle… not too Wraiths-like.” The idea solidified in her mind – a complete overhaul, erasing any trace of its previous ownership.
She drove Kai towards the nearest Medpoint, the Shion gliding effortlessly down the highway. As he stepped out, thanking her for the ride, Charm couldn’t shake a feeling that this car… this Wendigo… it had potential.
She watched Kai disappear into the Medpoint’s sterile interior before turning the Shion around and heading towards Megabuilding H04. She knew exactly which garage she was going to take it to – one known for discreet modifications and even more discreet clientele. The Shion was hers now.
Scene #23 – Erasing all traces
Holy Street, Japantown, Westbrook – 12-31-2078, 11:42
The morning after the night’s chaos dawned grey and oppressive over Night City. Charm woke with a lingering ache in her bones and the memory of Boris’s burst skull still fresh in her mind. But there was no time for dwelling on the past; survival demanded action. And today, that action involved a Mizutani Shion and a trip to Japantown.
She piloted the car through the crowded streets, its powerful engine surprisingly quiet as she navigated the narrow alleys of the district. The neon signs of Japantown pulsed with an almost frantic energy, reflecting off the Shion’s polished exterior. She was headed for Ryuichi’s Garage – a discreet establishment tucked away on a side street, known for its quality work and discretion.
Charm had dealt with Noguchi Ryuichi before. He wasn’t flashy or boastful; just a quiet, efficient craftsman who understood the importance of anonymity. She often dropped off vehicles for a fixer she worked with – cars that needn’t be traced back to their original owners. Ryuichi never asked questions, he simply delivered results.
She pulled up alongside the garage’s entrance, and Ryuichi emerged almost immediately, his face impassive as always. He was a man of few words, but his eyes held a sharp intelligence. “Chambers,” he acknowledged, nodding curtly. “You brought something interesting this time.” His gaze lingered on the Shion for a moment before returning to her. “What do you need?”
Charm leaned against the car, crossing her arms. “I want a new paintjob and extras. Full treatment – interior and exterior.” She paused, considering her words carefully. “Matte black base coat. And accents in glossy pink. I’m thinking along the lines of… aggressive.”
Ryuichi didn’t flinch at her request. He’d seen it all in Night City. “Aggressive is good,” he replied dryly. “And what about markings? Identification?”
“Yeah,” Charm said, a predatory glint in her eyes. “I want ‘Firestarter’ painted on the sides, large letters. Glossy pink to match the accents.” She envisioned it already – the matte black blending seamlessly with the city’s shadows, punctuated by bursts of vibrant pink that would scream “Jup… it’s me!”
Ryuichi nodded slowly, his expression unreadable. He circled the Shion once before turning back to Charm. “That’s a significant undertaking,” he said finally. “The base coat alone will require several layers of specialized polymer. The pink is… demanding. But doable.” He paused again, then added, almost as an afterthought, “For a few eddies more, I can make this car truly yours. Legally bind it to your name. Clear all records. No trace of the previous ownership.”
Charm’s eyes narrowed slightly. She hadn’t been expecting that offer. It was a tempting one, though – eliminating any potential connection to the Wraiths and their operation. “Explain,” she said, her voice carefully neutral.
“I can run the vehicle through my network,” Ryuichi explained, his tone professional. “Clear its history, register it under your name, fabricate documentation… everything. It’ll be as if this car was born with you as its owner.” He paused again, letting the offer sink in. “It’s a clean slate. No shadows.”
Charm considered the offer. The extra cost wasn’t significant in the grand scheme of things, especially considering the potential benefits. It would remove any lingering risk associated with the Shion and solidify her ownership.
“Alright,” she said finally. “Do it. Full treatment – interior and exterior, legal binding included.” Her eyes lit up and the eddies were transferred to Ryuichi. “Fourteen hundred eddies total.”
“A fair price for peace of mind,” Ryuichi said, his lips curving into a barely perceptible smile. “The interior will require some… adjustments. I’ll strip out any lingering traces of the previous occupants and reconfigure it to your specifications.”
“Just make sure it’s comfortable,” Charm replied casually. Ryuichi nodded, already turning his attention back to the Shion. “It will be ready in a few days,” he said. “Pick it up then.”
Scene #24 – Firestarter
Megabuilding H04, Arroyo, Santo Domingo – 01-03-2079, 09:13
The call came on a dreary afternoon. Charm had been doing little more than existing since she haded over the Shion to Ryuichi. Days bled into one another – fueled by cheap ramen and NiCola. New Year’s Eve had offered a brief respite. She’d spent it with Nadiya, a surprisingly pleasant diversion from the usual Night City grind. The NCPD officer was… grounding. A solid presence in her otherwise chaotic life. But even amidst the laughter, drinks and… other activities, Project Echelon gnawed at the back of her mind – the unfinished business that always seemed to lurk just beyond reach.
“Chambers,” Ryuichi’s voice crackled through the commlink, devoid of any warmth. “Your vehicle is ready.” Charm felt a flicker of something akin to excitement. She’d been deliberately avoiding thinking about the Shion, almost as if fearing disappointment. Now, it was time to see what Ryuichi had done.
Holy Street, Japantown, Westbrook – 01-03-2079, 11:42
She navigated the car through the crowded streets towards Japantown, the grey sky mirroring her mood. As she pulled up to Ryuichi’s Garage, the Shion practically pulsed with a new energy. The matte black paint gleamed under the dim streetlights, swallowing light and exuding an aura of quiet menace. The glossy pink accents were even more striking than she’d imagined – bold strokes against the darkness, like veins pulsing with neon blood. And emblazoned on the sides in sharp, angular lettering: “Firestarter.”
She ran a hand over the cool metal of the door, a small smile playing on her lips. It was hers now, truly and legally. A clean slate.
The interior was subtly different too. Ryuichi had stripped it bare, removing any trace of its previous life. The seats were upholstered in a dark grey synthetic leather that felt surprisingly comfortable against her skin. He’d also installed a new sound system – capable of delivering bone-rattling bass and crystal clear audio.
She spent the next few hours simply driving, weaving through the neon canyons of Night City without a destination in mind. The Shion handled like a dream, its engine purring beneath her feet. As she cruised past towering megabuildings and bustling marketplaces, an idea began to form in her mind. This wasn’t just a car anymore; it was a weapon.
“A mobile hacking station,” she mused aloud, the thought taking shape as she drove. “Imagine – a fully equipped netrunning rig, integrated into the vehicle’s systems. A secure connection, advanced cooling… I could run operations from anywhere.” She pictured herself pulling up to a target location, seamlessly integrating with the network, and disappearing again before anyone even noticed. It was ambitious, but not impossible. The Shion, aka Firestarter, would be more than just transportation; it would be her edge.
Batty’s Hotel, Coast View, Pacifica – 01-03-2079, 15:57
The idea of turning Firestarter into a mobile netrunning platform wouldn’t leave Charm alone. She needed gear – specialized components to integrate with the Shion’s systems and create a secure, on-the-go operation. That meant a trip to Batty’s Hotel, specifically to see Chantale Fanfan.
Fanfan was a Voodoo Boy affiliate, known for her expertise in hardware modification and her… flexible approach to legality. She ran a small shop tucked away within the labyrinthine corridors of the former hotel, catering to those who needed discreet tech solutions. Charm had worked with her before – usually involving acquiring hard-to-find components.
Chantale Fanfan, a Haitian woman with cybernetic implants tracing patterns across her shaved head, greeted Charm with a curt nod. “Charm,” she said, her voice drenched in a French accent. “You looking for something specific.”
Charm laid out her plan – a mobile netrunning station integrated into the Shion’s systems. Fanfan listened intently, occasionally interjecting with technical questions and suggestions. The conversation was efficient, devoid of pleasantries. After two hours of haggling and careful selection, Charm emerged from the shop with a collection of gear: a compact signal amplifier, a neural interface module, several encrypted data storage devices, and a few custom-built cooling units to prevent overheating.
She carefully placed everything onto the passenger seat of the Firestarter. The components looked unassuming – just another pile of tech in a city overflowing with it. But Charm knew their potential. With Fanfan’s help, and her own skills, she could transform the Shion into something truly special – a ghost in the machine, ready to strike from anywhere.
Scene #25 – Dogtown
Batty’s Hotel, Coast View, Pacifica – 01-03-2079, 18:43
As Charm pulled out of Batty’s Hotel parking lot, the usual cacophony of Pacifica seemed muted. She had to wait for an expensive limousine to drive by before she could accelerate. The vehicle rolled past, and as it did, a cold shiver traced its way down Charm’s spine.
Sitting in the passenger seat was Clarence Pearson – aka Mr. Rooks, Head of Security for Kang Tao. The name alone sent a jolt through her system. He was deeply connected to Project Echelon. Seeing him here, now, felt like a direct challenge.
Instinct took over. She followed the car as it turned sharply onto the road leading towards Dogtown Gate – a heavily fortified checkpoint separating Pacifica from the war-torn district. A plan formed in Charm’s mind, sharp and urgent. Dogtown was an active battlezone, a chaotic mess of gang warfare and corporate skirmishes. The gate operated on a strict one-vehicle-at-a-time policy, with scanning procedures taking roughly 30 seconds per vehicle. That gave her about a minute to slip in behind Rooks’ car before it vanished into the depths of Dogtown.
The gate loomed ahead – a towering structure bristling with sensors and armed guards. The limousine was already halfway through, its progress slow and deliberate. Charm accelerated, pushing Firestarter’s engine to its limit. As the hauler cleared the gate, she saw her opportunity.
The scanner whirred as she approached, bathing the Shion in a red light. A tense moment stretched into an eternity before the automated voice announced, “Vehicle cleared.” She didn’t waste a second, pushing Firestarter through the gate just as it began to close behind Rooks’ car.
She kept a safe distance, observing Rooks’ vehicle as it navigated the chaotic streets of Dogtown. He was driving along Dwight D. Eisenhower Street, making a sharp left onto George Washington Street. As she approached the roundabout, she saw his car pull up in front of a colossal structure – The Heavy Hearts, a notorious nightclub built within a massive glass pyramid.
Heavy Hearts, Dogtown, Pacifica – 01-03-2079, 19:02
Charm parked her car several blocks away, out of sight but with a clear view of the club’s entrance. She killed the engine and sat there for a moment, her heart pounding against her ribs. This was it. A direct confrontation with Kang Tao security was pointless. The odds were stacked against her.
She approached the entrance, bracing herself for whatever lay ahead. The bouncer – a hulking brute with cybernetic enhancements visible beneath his skin – blocked her path. “No entry,” he grunted, his voice a digitized rasp. “Not on the list.”
“I’m here to meet someone,” Charm said, keeping her voice level despite the tremor in her hands. “Tell Mr. Hands I’m waiting.”
The bouncer sneered. “Mr. Hands ain’t got time for you. Beat it before I change my mind.”
Charm knew arguing was pointless. She retreated to her car, a knot of frustration tightening in her stomach. She thought mentioning the fixer Mr. Hands would be a door opener. Waiting it was. Patience was a weapon too. She settled into the driver’s seat and watched, every nerve on high alert.
Thirty minutes crawled by, each second an eternity. The neon lights of Heavy Hearts pulsed with an unsettling rhythm. Just as she was about to lose hope, Pearson emerged from the club, accompanied by another man – a shadowy figure whose face remained obscured in the dim light. He slid into the backseat of the limousine.
The vehicle pulled away from the club and headed back towards Dogtown Gate. Charm followed at a discreet distance, maintaining a safe buffer zone. They cleared the gate and turned left onto Pacific Boulevard, heading towards Biotechnica Flats – a protein farm on the outskirts of Night City.
To be continued…
That’s it for this week! I hope you had fun and return next week for part six.
