Night City, Week 3.
If the city was a beating heart of neon and rot, then M had become its fever.
He didn't just kill scavs—he erased them.
Burned them off the map.
Systematically.
Relentlessly.
Brilliantly.
In two weeks, M had taken down 150 bases.
That was 3,147 confirmed kills.
Not counting the ones buried under rubble, or evaporated by incinerator grenades.
[New Points Acquired]
+31.47 Attribute Points
+31.47 Skill Points
M stood atop a scorched scaffold in the remains of a scav warehouse. The air still stank of burning augments and blood. His golden-lined suit was torn at the sleeves, soaked at the collar. His katana still glowed, humming faintly.
He looked down at the kill counter on his glasses HUD.
"Three thousand," he muttered, almost impressed.
He turned to the last body, twitching.
Made it three thousand and one.
The golden glow pulsed as the blade sliced effortlessly through synthetic ribs.
Flashback .....Hunting with Power . . ...
1. The spa :
A base disguised as a wellness spa in Westbrook.
M entered with a gold tie and a calm face.
The scavs were relaxed, lazy. Mid-black market cyberpsycho install.
They never saw the Edge of Eternity ignite.
Golden arcs cut through walls, limbs, reinforced or not it's was unimportant.
Surgeons bled out next to half-installed torsos.
By the end, the only mirror left standing was the one reflecting M's blood-spattered face. He adjusted his tie.
"Still sharp and handsome apparently" he said to no one and smirked.
2. The Maze :
A scav fortress beneath the old soccer stadium in Pacifica.
It was a labyrinth—trip wires, sentries, roving packs. Perfect kill zone.
M walked in with Hyperfocus activated.
Everything slowed to a crawl.
Bullets looked like floating fireflies.
He moved between shots like a dancer, blades singing.
They couldn't touch him, couldn't anticipate him.
Dozens fell before the first alarm even rang.
By the time the last scav screamed, his sword was cooling in its sheath and the turrets were smoking husks.
3. The Dog Pit :
Some bases weren't bases—they were statements, Entertainment and a Hell .
This one was a cage arena where scavs made kidnapped people fight cyberdogs.
M didn't bring a gun.
He jumped into the pit from a maintenance shaft on the roof.
They froze then started laughing thinking an idiot just delivered himself to them. They kept laughing and making fun of him.
Until he caught the first cyberdog mid-leap and snapped its spine like a branch.
The scavs tried to flood the arena. He activated hyperfoucs and mowed them down with his bare hands.
Later .......
It was just after sunset. M had just returned to the mansion, shirtless and rinsing blood off his forearms in the bathroom, when his glasses interface chirped.
Caller ID: Rouge.
He smirked.
He answered.
Her voice, smoky and blunt as ever, came through:
"I expected you to be dead by now. Figured you were just another bored rich kid playing hero."
M chuckled. "Aren't I?"
"No. You're M. I dug. Former special ops. Black file. Zero-paper trail. You were nearly a legend then you retired. What the hell are you doing, cutting scavs like they owe you money?"
M grabbed a towel, drying his arms.
"I told you, Rogue. Their only crime was existing. I got bored. Needed something to kill. What better entertainment than vermin who deserve it?"
There was a pause. Then a soft chuckle on the other end.
"Damn. So you're a psycho. A charming one, but still—unhinged."
He grinned. "I would love to keep chatting with you Rouge but I am hungry so can you tell me what do you want?"
"You ever want merc work? You're not starting at the bottom. You're in the major leagues, directly. Just say the word."
Call ended.
M sat there a moment, watching the sun dip behind the skyline. A breeze swept across North Oak. Calm. For now.
Then his system interface flashed.
New Points Available: 31.47 | 31.47
["Distribute Now?"]
He laughed.
"Scav-killing is... lucrative."
On his Day Off ...
"You need new clothes what you have is ruined " Ava said, tapping her chin while inspecting the torn lapel of one of his jackets.
"What do you mean?" M replied. "My clothes are classy and fine."
"They also smell like gunpowder and blood, oh and don't get me started on the holes and cuts covering them."
So they drove.
M took the S9 Guinevere—his shiniest beast.
Black and gold, purring down the megastructure ramps like a panther in a tuxedo. Ava rode beside him in the passenger seat in a white hoodie and gold-trimmed skirt, legs crossed , gazing at the city.
They rolled up to Jinguji—the boutique.
Night City's most elite fashion den. Tailored nano-fiber. Bullet-dampening silk. Woven graphene vests that stopped .45s and looked like royal armor.
Inside, the store gleamed like a museum.
"Mr. M," said the clerk, a sleek Corpo-bot in matte grey. "Welcome. May I suggest our newest line—"
"No," M interrupted, already walking past racks.
Ava huffed behind him. "At least try one thing I suggest. Please. Just once."
"You pick colors like a teenage influencer."
"I have taste!"
"I have a sword."
"That's not a counterpoint!"
In thirty minutes, M had picked out:
-Five formal suits – All black with gold linings, armored weaves
-Three trench coats – Matching linings
-Casual wear – Fitted black pants, V-neck silk shirts, gold accessories
-pairs of combat and formal shoes – With impact cushioning and ballistic lining
Everything: black and gold.
Everything: him.
The clerk looked overwhelmed.
Ava just facepalmed.
"You're impossible," she muttered.
"I'm consistent."
"You could've picked one thing with color."
"I did." He tapped the gold lapel. "See? Sunshine."
Later That Night.....
Back home, Ava unloaded the bags, sighing dramatically.
M stood by the glass wall, sipping whisky, clad in one of his new silk shirts.
"Hey Ava," he called.
She peeked from the kitchen. "Yeah?"
"You pick dinner.make something you like"
"…What's the catch?"
"Nothing. You earned it."
She raised an eyebrow, smirking. "You feeling okay?"
M looked at her embarrassed a little bit.
"you know what scratch that cook something I like" he said.
"sorry , sorry I will stop teasing you." Ava laughed.
M just stared at her and she scurried away to the kitchen.
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Author here
Second chapter .