Cyberpunk 2077: I'm Not Crazy!
Chapter 1: Welcome to Night City
> Cyberpunk — dancing on graves. Please check your sanity at the door.
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Kay gripped the strange, gold-colored weapon in his hand — a so-called "Tsutomu Pseudo-weapon," the kind of thing that looked like it came from a cheap netdrama about immortals and demons. He wanted to toss it. It didn't belong in this world. But for some reason… it didn't feel right to let go.
He was crouched behind a half-melted city trash can, watching chaos unfold on the street. A group of punks — real chrome-heads with blunt objects, glow-knives, and recycled cyberware — were brawling like it was some sort of gang audition.
In the middle of it, a blond-haired guy was actually holding his own against three opponents. Guy pulled something from his jacket — was that lime powder? — and threw it. It exploded into the air, blinding everyone nearby.
Kay blinked. "The hell… Night City's local talent show?"
The guy shouted, grinning like a maniac:
> "Simple folk of Night City... I fragging love this city!"
Kay took two cautious steps further back, pressing himself against the grimy alley wall. The last thing he wanted was to get splattered by some low-tier gonk's hot blood.
He wasn't built for this kind of thing. His reaction speed barely passed for average, let alone combat-ready. Gunfights? Brawls? No thanks. Not his idea of a fun isekai.
Neon signs flickered across the skyline. The city buzzed with life, half-digital and half-decayed. A cool breeze blew across his face, laced with the scent of motor oil, synthetic hormones, and burned chrome.
As the fight spiraled into a brutal mess, police sirens howled in the distance — that signature NCPD sound, heavy with menace.
The street brawlers froze. In less than thirty seconds, they were gone, scattering like rats. The blond dude even managed to scoop up an empty soda bottle and chuck it over his shoulder.
> Clang~
Kay exhaled. "Classic Night City."
He stretched his legs. Squatting behind the dumpster had cut off circulation — both feet tingled with pins and needles. Wincing, he picked up the Tsutomu weapon again. It was useless, sure, but it was the only thing he'd had on him since waking up in this body. Call it a souvenir.
Just as he turned to leave—
A cold, metallic hand clamped down on his shoulder.
> "Where the hell you think you're going?"
Kay froze. The grip was too strong to break. He turned his head slowly… and looked straight into the cold visor of an NCPD Enforcer.
> "Hands up. Drop the weapon. You are suspected of involvement in a street altercation. Failure to comply will be interpreted as hostile intent. Force authorization confirmed."
Kay's mouth opened slightly. He raised his hands in surrender.
> "Officer, real talk… you ever seen someone use a ridiculous gold cosplay prop in a street fight?"
The NCPD officer gave him a deadpan nod.
> "Yeah. Especially brutal ones."
Kay: "...You've gotta be kidding me."
---
The Next Morning
He'd spent the night in a holding cell. No interrogation. No explanation. No food.
When the guards finally decided they were done with him, they literally tossed him out the front gate.
Kay landed on his feet — barely — stomach growling like a street mutt. He staggered forward, planning to hunt down the nearest food stall. But before he could even take five steps, he noticed a group of sketchy-looking individuals waving at him from across the street.
They were grinning way too enthusiastically for Night City strangers.
> "Oh hell no," Kay muttered. "I'm not that stupid."
He turned on his heel — but it was too late.
A hand gripped his shoulder again. Not steel this time, but strong. Blond-haired. Familiar.
> "What, is grabbing shoulders the new greeting protocol around here?!"
Kay turned, exasperated, only to come face-to-face with the same punk from the street brawl. The guy looked surprised too, like he wasn't sure how to approach him.
Kay raised an eyebrow.
> "What do you want? I'm not signing autographs."
His eyes flicked toward the NCPD precinct behind him. The silent warning was obvious: 'You really wanna start something in front of Night City's trigger-happiest cops?'
> "Kay-ge! Don't be like that!" the punk laughed. "We're from the Destiny Cult! Yesterday you inspired us, man. Your aura! Your spirit! You lifted our morale!"
Kay blinked.
> "Wait… you're saying I inspired your gang?"
> "We're not a gang, we're a movement!"
> "Riiight."
The punk grinned ear to ear.
> "Name's Riko Vega. You saved our ass yesterday, so now… you're the boss. The head. The chosen one!"
Kay rubbed his temples. He was getting a migraine.
> "So... I wasn't wrongly arrested. I was just with the wrong people."
Riko continued, completely ignoring Kay's internal panic.
> "Come on, let's grab food. We can hit up this noodle dive down on Pacifica Boulevard. I'll call some girls too, you need to relax."
Kay stared up at the dusty neon sky, exhausted.
> This guy knows I feel like shit and still wants to get me girls? Did someone hit him in the neural processor?
But there was something useful in what he said.
> "Wait… you said I'm your leader? And you want me to check your crew's cyberware?" Kay asked.
> "Yeah! You're our Ripperdoc, right? Our fixer, our brain. The whole squad's counting on you to check their cybernetics."
Kay froze.
> Wait. Ripperdoc?
> I don't even know how to boot a damn medscanner.
He took a deep breath.
> Okay,
Kay. Deep breaths. You're in Night City. You've been thrown into a new body, surrounded by psychos, and someone thinks you're a street doctor. Time to fake it 'til you make it... or get flatlined trying.