Kazuma_trash
patreon
Cyberpunk Edgerunners: David Martinez With A System! [9]
🕑 Added 2025-01-19 14:00:29 +0000 UTCMeredith took another drag of her cigarette, but as she recalled the face of that boy in the footage, her lips curled into a sneer.
“Just another filthy street rat from the slums.” That’s all he was. That’s all he’d ever be. A nobody. A disposable insect, like all the other gutter trash crawling through the lower districts of Night City.
As far as she was concerned, the weak existed to be exploited. That was the natural order of things. And she was far from the only one who thought that way. Most high-ranking corpos shared that same cold-blooded mindset.
The only difference? They weren’t as blatantly arrogant as she was.
….
Meanwhile— In a cramped, windowless corporate office, Anthony Gilchrist seethed with rage.
“FUCKING BULLSHIT!” His desk shook as he slammed a tablet report down in frustration. He had known—everyone knew—that Meredith Stout was an egotistical control freak. But this? This was beyond stupid.
The security footage had landed in his hands by pure chance, and the moment he saw it, he knew. That kid—David Martinez—had potential.
The kind of raw talent that couldn’t be bought.
He had taken out an entire Scavenger den alone, without military training or cyberware enhancements.
And yet, Meredith hadn’t even bothered to consider it. She had shut him down without a second thought. Like he was a fucking idiot for even suggesting it.
“That smug, power-hungry bitch…” Anthony gritted his teeth. Fine. If Militech didn’t want this opportunity— Then maybe Arasaka would. Sitting down at his computer, he quickly opened his corporate email.
With a few keystrokes, he attached the footage and began typing. “I believe Arasaka will find this information particularly valuable…”
….
Completely unaware that a megacorporation now had its eyes on him, David stepped off the NCART train, entering Watson’s Little China.
It was a slight step up from Santo Domingo—but not by much.
This was Maelstrom turf.
A gang of cyberware fanatics, their optical implants glowing red, their bodies a patchwork of grotesque modifications.
They weren’t just chromed-up thugs. They were psychos-in-the-making— Barreling toward cyberpsychosis like it was a race to the finish line. Then again, every district had its own gang infestation.
Santo Domingo had the 6th Street gang—a bunch of ex-soldiers, ex-cops, and wannabe vigilantes, all shouting about “justice for the city” while shaking down locals for protection money.
The usual gangster hypocrisy. But right now, David wasn’t here for gang politics. He was here to install his cyberware. Or at least—he was trying to. But things weren’t going as smoothly as he had hoped.
….
In the dimly lit basement clinic, the air smelled of burnt circuits, antiseptic, and cheap coffee. It looked less like a medical facility and more like a mad scientist’s lair. David sat across from Viktor, one of the few trustworthy ripperdocs in the city.
The old man leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, expression firm.
“David, listen to me.”
“You don’t need eddies to get this done. That’s not the problem.” He gestured toward the chrome implants David had laid out.
“You’re talking about military-grade cyberware. Do you have any idea what that means?” David met his gaze, unflinching.
“I know.”
“Which is exactly why I came to you, Vik.”
“You’re the only ripper I trust.” Vik sighed heavily, rubbing his temples. This had to be the hundredth sigh Viktor had let out today.
And he had lost count of how many times he had heard David’s shameless flattery.
Every single time, the kid came up with something new, like he was about to worship him as a saint.
“Viktor, please! I’m begging you!” David bowed deeply, almost slamming his head onto the operating table.
His entire posture screamed determination—the kind that said, “I’m not leaving until you install this shit on me.” Vik pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head.
This stubborn little shit…
But in the face of such persistence, there was only so much he could do.
For the last time, he sighed.
“Fine…”
“But listen, kid—if you feel even the slightest thing off after installation, you come back to me immediately. Got it?”
David’s face lit up, his eyes bright with excitement.
“Thank you, Viktor!”
Vik waved a hand.
“Yeah, yeah. Save your thanks for later.”
“Now, get your ass in the chair.”
Viktor moved over to the operating station, reclining the surgical chair until David was fully lying down.
“Alright, listen up.”
“I’m going to administer full-body anesthesia, but even with that, there’s gonna be some pain.”
David grinned, completely fearless.
“Pain’s nothing. I can handle it.”
…
He immediately regretted saying that.
“HOLY—FUCKING—SHIT—!!!”
What the fuck was this?!
He could hear it—every single detail.
The whirring drill, the metal clamps, the bone saw slicing into his spine.
The pain?
It felt like someone was drilling screws directly into his nerves.
No—
It was worse.
His teeth clenched so hard that his gums started bleeding, the metallic taste of blood flooding his mouth.
Sweat poured down his forehead, veins bulging, every muscle in his body tensing violently.
Each breath came ragged, shaky—a losing battle against the waves of agony shooting through his back.
Beads of sweat slid down his temples, pooling together into large droplets before finally dripping onto the cold steel chair.
“The game didn’t show it being this fucking painful!!!”
In Cyberpunk 2077, Vik had pulled out V’s eyeballs like it was nothing!
The game made it look so easy!
And this was with Vik operating.
Imagine getting cyberware installed by a shady black-market ripper—
He’d probably die on the fucking table.
David gritted his teeth, groaning through the pain.
“Fuck…! This is way worse than I thought!”
But even so—
Even with his mind screaming at him to pass out—
He forced himself to endure it.
He had chosen this path.
He had begged for this upgrade.
He was going to see it through.
“Almost done,” Vik muttered, his voice calm despite the chaos.
With precise movements, he inserted the Kerenzikov, replacing David’s spinal column.
The cybernetic spine snapped into place, clamping down around his nerves like a mechanical centipede wrapping around its prey.
David’s fingers twitched involuntarily, his whole body jerking slightly as the implant synchronized with his nervous system.
Then, Viktor carefully applied a synthetic dermal layer, covering the surgical scars to hide any external modifications.
Even in the world of cyberware, presentation mattered.
Viktor wasn’t sure if this was the right decision—
But he could see it in David’s eyes.
There was no stopping him.
“…Alright. It’s done.”
