Chapter 108: Night in Watson
Late Night. Watson District.
Ram was dragging himself back to the slums after a grueling day in the abandoned industrial park.
Like many drifters, he spent his days scavenging in the landfills, hoping to find something—anything—of value.
For most people in Night City, the landfill was a toxic wasteland, a place where you risked your health with every breath. But for the bottom-feeders, it was a treasure trove. It was the only way to survive.
In mountains of garbage that scraped the sky, if you were lucky, you could find functioning cyberware. If God was smiling on you, you might even find a corpse.
A fresh corpse in the landfill was the jackpot. Especially if it was a corporate dump.
Gangs and mercs didn't clean up their messes. They zeroed people and walked away, leaving the cleanup to the NCPD. The stench of rotting bodies in the alleys? That was usually their handiwork.
But corpos were different. They cared about their "image," even if it was fake. When they flatlined someone, they cleaned up.
The bay, the lakes, the landfills, abandoned industrial zones... half the bodies found there were corpo hits. And corpos meant high-end suits, watches, and top-tier implants ripe for harvesting.
Just thinking about it made Ram drool.
Yawning, Ram walked out of the Northern Industrial District. He pulled his hood up and patted his chest, checking for the two damaged shards he'd found.
They weren't worth much. Corroded, data corrupted. Together, they might fetch thirty eddies.
Scrap value. Sell them to a back-alley ripperdoc, and he could eat for a day or two.
But even that tiny amount... was enough for some of the scumbags in Watson to kill him for.
Ten minutes later, Ram heard a commotion. Instinctively, he turned to leave, to find another route. But as he turned, two men swaggered around the corner, arms around each other's shoulders.
Hooded, masked. Ram's heart sank.
Seeing Ram, the men's eyes lit up. The one on the left let out a sharp whistle.
Ram panicked. Sweat beaded on his forehead. He kept his head down, trying to walk past them quickly.
Scavengers!
But an arm shot out, grabbing him.
"Where you think you're going?" The man on the right's mask slipped, revealing an utterly ordinary face. A face you'd pass on the street a thousand times and never remember.
Ram's heart was in his throat. "I... I'm just a drifter. I don't have eddies. This is all I have..."
He pulled out the two shards he'd spent all day finding and held them out.
The man on the left snatched them, glanced at them, and sneered. "Fuck. Thought it was a credchip. What the hell am I gonna do with two busted shards?"
"That's all I have. Really. You can search..."
WHAM!
The Scavenger punched Ram in the eye, cutting him off. Ram staggered, clutching his face, his head spinning.
He whimpered in pain. Behind him, more footsteps approached.
Ram looked back through his one good eye. Six people. Four men, two women. Walking towards him, grinning.
"See? Told you this was a good spot for a picnic. Last time Gil and his crew were here, they snagged two drifters. Pure profit."
"Shame it's not a chick. Guys aren't worth much for XBDs. The market wants to see women getting tortured," one man said, stroking his chin as he sized Ram up.
"Doesn't matter. We can film a self-harm BD. Strap a bomb to him, or make him eat nails and glass. Didn't that black market dealer say there's a niche for pica fetish stuff?"
"No bombs. If he explodes, we can't sell the organs."
Ram listened as they casually discussed his fate.
His teeth chattered. He was shaking violently. If he hadn't pissed in an alley ten minutes ago, he would have wet himself.
"Take him."
"No! I'm not going with you! No! Please!"
Two men grabbed him. Ram screamed, but his body wouldn't obey. The thought of what they were going to do to him turned his legs to jelly.
He used the last of his strength to scream.
"Help! Someone help me! Please!"
"No! Just kill me! Kill me!"
As a drifter in Watson, Ram knew all about the Scavengers. Everyone said: never go out at night. Hide in the slums before sunset.
But... he'd stayed out late for these shards. For one full meal. Now, he regretted it bitterly.
What did a few days of hunger matter compared to this?
Now... his life was over.
No... death would be a mercy. Living like this—sleeping in damp alleys, starving, hopeless—he didn't even have the courage to leave Night City.
Born in the City of Dreams, Ram often wondered what possessed people to come here. City of Dreams? It was Hell.
This city had trapped him. Yet people flocked to it.
Was the gap in perception really that big?
Ram didn't want to live forever. He was just surviving. But... to die in agony and humiliation? To become entertainment for sick fucks? He'd rather die right now.
He didn't want to be a Scavenger experiment.
He didn't want his death to be meaningless.
"Kill me! Kill me!"
Despair turned to rage, and strength returned to his limbs. He struggled violently.
BANG!
A gunshot. Ram screamed as a bullet tore through his thigh. But he kept screaming, hoping to provoke them into finishing him off.
"Damn it. Just sedate him. Shit, don't want to attract the Animals."
"Yeah, stick him. Tyger Claws and Mox have been fighting nearby lately. And the Claws clashed with Maelstrom two days ago. Don't need that kind of heat."
If the Tyger Claws were reckless thugs, Maelstrom were unhinged psychos.
Maelstrom only had about a thousand members compared to the Claws' five thousand, but they still ruled the North Industrial District. Because they were insane.
The Scavengers chatted as a woman pulled out a syringe. She approached Ram from behind, aiming for his dirty neck.
But just as she was about to strike, her partner grabbed her arm. "Look! Haha! Another one!"
Ram looked up. At the end of the alley stood a man.
Slim build, sportswear, baseball cap pulled low. Under the dim streetlight, his shadow stretched long against the graffiti-covered wall.
Ram instinctively shouted, "H-Help me!"
Two Scavengers walked towards the newcomer, smiling. One raised a pistol. "Don't move, or I'll put a hole in you!"
"Be a good boy and stand still!"
As they got closer, their expressions turned to delight. One turned back and shouted, "Premium goods! Holy shit, Mara, it's premium!"
"Asian, clean features... this guy is top-tier stock! We can use him for—"
His sentence cut off. His eyes glazed over. His throat itched. His chin felt hot.
Ram's eyes widened. He watched as the Scavenger's head... separated from his body.
Like a ball rolling off a shelf. Blood fountain in the dim light. And the man in the baseball cap was gone.
Two headless bodies collapsed.
"FUCK! Enemy attack! It's Maelstrom!"
"Fuck Maelstrom, that was a blade! Tyger Claws! It's definitely the Claws!"
Asian? Had to be Tyger Claws!
The Scavengers panicked. They dropped Ram and huddled together, weapons drawn—guns, knives, shivs—scanning for the enemy.
Scavengers were bottom-feeders. They didn't fight for turf. They didn't war with gangs. Their business model was kidnapping and organ harvesting.
They operated in small, uncoordinated cells. Their combat ability was trash.
Their response was chaotic. Ram was forgotten on the ground as they clustered in fear.
Ram felt a breeze. He looked up and saw a blur of ink-black shadow. A screeching sound assaulted his ears. He looked back at the Scavengers and saw blood spray.
A pitch-black knife pierced a Scavenger's skull, then vanished. The man gargled, brain matter leaking from his forehead, and fell.
The black shadow flickered again under the streetlight. The knife appeared, vanished. In the blink of an eye, two more Scavengers were down.
"Where is he?! Where is he?!"
"Come out! Come the fuck out!"
"I'll kill you! I'll kill your whole family!"
Fear of the unknown broke them. Comrades dropping, enemy invisible. They screamed to hide their terror.
Ram stared, stunned. He sat up slowly, blood leaking from his thigh, pain forgotten.
"The two things I hate most in this city... Tyger Claws, and you rats."
A voice spoke from right behind him. Ram spun around. The man was standing there.
Slim, black tracksuit. Hand adjusting his cap. Ram looked up and saw his mouth and nose.
Clean features, soft jawline, thin lips. A very handsome young man. Even Ram, a white guy, could appreciate it.
Clean, handsome, beautiful...
No wonder the Scavenger called him "premium goods."
Then, Ram blinked. The man vanished again.
"Argh!"
Ram looked back. The man was among the Scavengers.
"You guys mess with the Mox too, don't you? Since I'm here... might as well clean up."
His voice was cold, casual.
Quickly, the rest of the Scavengers died.
Under the ink-black flashes, Ram watched them get sliced apart.
Then, he saw the man bending over the bodies, rummaging through their pockets. A stack of credchips disappeared into his pocket.
Then, the man looked at him.
Ram froze as the man walked towards him.
Run?
No. This was better. Being killed by him was better than the Scavengers.
Money... I have no money.
The two broken shards were all he had. Maybe he'd take them as payment for "saving" him from the Scavs.
Ram calmed down.
His leg was bleeding. He couldn't run. And even if he could, he couldn't outrun a guy who could teleport.
Cyberpsycho?
Corporate agent?
Asian... Tyger Claw? Arasaka? Kang Tao?
Ram's mind raced.
Then, he froze. The man crouched in front of him, lifted his injured leg, and started binding the wound with a strip of cloth torn from a T-shirt.
"You..." Ram stammered.
"Relax. The wound isn't deep, but if you don't stop the bleeding, you'll pass out. I don't have meds on me, and even if I did, I wouldn't waste them on you," the man said flatly.
"Why are you doing this?" Ram asked, taking a breath.
"Why not? It's no trouble," he replied calmly.
The bandage was tight. The man stood up and looked down at Ram.
From this angle, Ram saw more than just his lower face. He saw his eyes.
They locked gazes for a second.
"Go. Get out of here. Take the left path. I just came from there, it's clear," the man said, pointing down the alley.
He turned and walked towards the edge of the industrial zone, towards the Kabuki area.
"Wait! What's your name?!" Ram shouted at his retreating back.
The figure paused, raised a hand in a wave without turning around.
Then he vanished into the shadows.
Ram clutched his leg, gritted his teeth, and limped down the path the man had indicated.
In his jacket, he clutched the two broken shards tight.
He should have given them to him.
It wasn't much, but it was all he had.
Regret welled up, but was quickly swallowed by hope.
His steps grew faster, stronger.
I'm alive.
And I have food money for tomorrow.
"I survived another fucking day in this godforsaken city."