Chapter 15 : Electric Warfare

Neon signs cast fleeting glows on heaps of trash shrouded in darkness.

Night City lives up to its name, dazzling brighter at night, flaunting its splendor like a gaudy maw devouring fools with its shine.

That’s why people turn from reality, diving into fantasies like moths to a flame.
Like that kid screaming to be a cyberpunk.
No one knows this city’s built on piles of buried corpses.
Even if they did, they’d pretend otherwise.
Or else, under the corporate banner, they’d just be another body.

“You sure about this?”
“About what?”
“Just leaving him like that…”
“Let him be.”

For all the flashy moves, the payoff’s pitifully small.
After warning about dangers everywhere, this feels pointless.

Why even bother, you might ask—not entirely wrong.

Normally, I’d seem generous, but at a glance, it might look like I don’t care. A hollow outcome.

But now, I feel a forgotten emotion—laughter—stirring.

“A man drew his blade, vowing to achieve his goal. Right in front of me.”

It’s been a while since someone met my gaze with clear, burning eyes.
He’s rising to throw himself at the world, and I’m not so unromantic as to stop him.
More help would be a burden.
He might regret this moment later, but I’m not some nosy fool to block a guy repaying a debt.

The rich smoke of my cigarette barely satisfies as it hits my nose, but seeing the box—over half-empty—makes me grimace.
A week’s supply gone in two days. Thanks, David, all your fault.
The laughter fades, replaced by gratitude and a simmering heat I’ll settle next time we meet.

“So, let him go for now. He’ll figure out how to live. But…”
“But?”
“If he dies or gets hurt, I can’t face Gloria. From now on, treat all info on David as top-secret. Priority one.”

Arasaka and Militech, those bastards, can’t catch wind of him. He’s already got a rap sheet for recklessly rampaging in Arasaka’s turf.
A kid that young with a military-grade Sandevistan? Arasaka’s lunatics would lose their minds.

Top-secret.
Minimize his tracks.
Or make him too big to touch.

“No matter how I look at it, only a dad would go this far…”
“Wanna lose your tongue?”
“Eep.”
“Hate to agree with this pig, but… Boss, you showing this much emotion is rare, isn’t it?”

Their words shut me up.
Not because I’m embarrassed in front of my crew.

A strange feeling makes me rub my chin.
Is that it? That much?

Mimicking lost emotions is just that—mimicry.
As a human, missing natural feelings is obvious, and even if I hide it, these guys sense the disconnect.

Flip that: I’m acting different enough from my usual self that they’re making a fuss.

“…Is that so?”

Like mother, like son.
To stir change in someone like me proves it’s undeniable—hereditary.

Come to think of it, I’ve never had a kid in all these years.
These guys acting like family led to a whim to save him.
But that’s brought back feelings I’d forgotten.

Looking back, I was tense, excited, angry, amused.
Lost emotions surfaced without me noticing.
Not everything’s back—just a sliver of truth mixed in the mimicry.

But if it’s enough for them to notice, that’s progress.

“Was it… like this?”

I shed the mask-like expression, recalling my original face.
Empty, hollow, so lifeless I’d have called it creepy back then—a blank slate.

I glance at my reflection in the window, pulling up the corners of my mouth.
Like when I was with the Martinezes.

A grotesque grin, eyes unchanged.
No way anyone’d call this a smile—nauseating.
Kids might cry if I laughed out loud.

Still, it feels pretty good.

“Your name?”
“David.”

Normally, Maine wouldn’t care for some punk’s name—could die any day—but this kid’s clearly no ordinary catch.
If escape’s not an option, better make him a comrade.

“With how much he’s coddling you, why work with us?”
“The kid doesn’t want his dad.”
“Call me David! And who’s my dad?!”
“Looks like a dad to me.”
“Ugh…”

David, fuming at Pilar’s teasing gestures, sighs deeply, thinking of how others saw him with that guy.

Recalling their bond, he shakes his head—it’s too hard to deny outright.

“Just someone who helped me out. Living like my life depends on his handouts…”

It’s pathetic.
David recalls how his mom lived, ever since he can remember, and he doesn’t want that.
Taking help, walking a paved path—that led to this.
Mom’s barely alive, the Academy’s a nightmare of bullying and expulsion.
And he owes a stranger countless debts, unasked.

Others might think he’s kicking away blessings, but David, after all this, refuses to be a machine running on a fixed track.

He wants to stand tall, to show his mom, who gave him everything, and John, who’s always worried and helped, what he’s made of.

“So you wanna work with us?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, you’ve used the Sandevistan 8 times…”
“No way!”
“No time to lie about that.”
“I’m in! This kid’s a kid, but we could connect with those people—those skills—”
“Quiet, Pilar. Maine’s thinking.”

Dorio’s intervention quells the brewing racket, leaving only Maine’s low hum.

Maine lifts his sunglasses, crouching to meet David’s eyes.
At over 2 meters, it’s less crouching, more sitting.
He sees the kid’s clear, unwavering gaze.

No fear, no worry—just a drive to move forward

“You want work?”

Pilar’s right: taking the kid could build ties with the ones who crushed them in seconds, plus a debt.
Caring for one kid for this kind of profit? A steal.

“Repaying debts? Dumbest thing I’ve heard…”
“Ugh.”

David groans, knowing his honest but foolish intent sounds absurd.

It’s far from Night City’s norm.
Those talking about repaying debts here are either Valentinos, with their family and brotherhood obsession, or scammers waiting to stab you in the back.
Even Valentinos sell out for profit.
Dokkaebi, at least, with so little known, don’t seem like the backstabbing type.

A guy seriously talking about repaying debts in this era? A rare sight, no doubt.

But thankfully, Maine’s not your typical Night City cynic, picking family for profit.

“I like that kind of idiot. Manly. Alright, you’ll get a test.”
“Really?”
“Maine, for real?”
“No take-backs. Be at the designated spot on time. I’ll tell you later.”
“Sweet!”

Look at him, thrilled about a gang test. Such a kid.
Wonder if David knows.
No matter how you slice it, he looks like a son working jobs to avoid begging his dad.