“Drop the weapon!
Stand your ground!” “Fuck off, you soulless drones!” Levi flipped them the bird, slammed through the stairwell door, and sprinted downward, clutching the bullet wound in his abdomen.
The two security specialists behind him were like cold, efficient machines.
They didn’t want him alive; every time they caught a glimpse of him through the stairwell gaps, they opened fire.
Brass casings rained down, and bullets sparked off the iron railings, embedding into the concrete walls around him.
My luck is absolute garbage, Levi grumbled.
Other people get transmigration stories with cultivation systems or harem tropes, and I get kidnapped for my kidneys and hunted by a 180-second response unit.
And I’ve probably got an NCPD bounty on my head now, not to mention Arasaka coming for my blood.
“Fuck, I’ve managed to piss off three major powers in the span of an hour.” He cursed under his breath.
The [Auto-Regen] was helping, but he couldn’t breathe fast enough to counter the repeated grazing hits he was taking.
A few stray rounds finally slammed into his shoulder, thigh, and gut.
“Just put a bullet in my head and be done with it!” He stumbled, the agony nearly bringing him to his knees, but he forced himself to keep moving.
He dove through the bottom-floor security door, crashing onto the cold concrete of a dead-end alley.
The two specialists followed, moving in lockstep, their rifles leveled at him.
“Drop the weapon!
Stand your ground!” “Broken records, the lot of you,” Levi spat.
He grabbed a Stimshot from his pocket, jammed it into his arm, and felt the pain dampen to a manageable roar.
“Drop the weapon!
Get on your knees!” “Kiss my ass.” Levi flipped onto his back, leveled the Nova revolver, and pulled the trigger.
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
Three slugs hammered into the lead specialist’s white helmet.
The first deformed the armor; the second cratered it; the third punched clean through.
The specialist collapsed, blood pooling from the shattered visor.
The second operator hesitated—a fatal mistake.
Levi dumped the spent casings, slammed a fresh round in, and flicked the cylinder shut.
He tracked the second man with the same machine-like precision, burying three rounds into the exact same spot on his helmet.
He went down without a sound.
[Trauma Team Employee, ‘TT-4396A’ has died] [Reputation +500] [Trauma Team Employee, ‘TT-4396B’ has died] [Reputation +500] Levi laughed, a dry, ragged sound, as he pulled himself up.
The alley was a dead end, covered in grime, blood, and garish neon graffiti.
The air tasted like garbage, ozone, and things he couldn’t even name—an assault on his senses that made him want to retch.
“You’d think a city like this could afford a decent trash collection service,” he grumbled.
He walked over to the bodies and pried their weapons from their stiffening fingers.
They were heavy, compact submachine guns with stubby barrels.
[Item: Kang Tao G-58 Dian] [Effect: 45-round mag, Smart Targeting (Requires Smart Link cyberware)] [Evaluation: One of the top-tier smart guns on the market.
If you have the link, you don’t even have to aim.
It’s a murder machine.] A “murder machine” for a guy who just wants to live.
He tucked them into his coat—if he couldn’t use the smart link yet, he could at least sell them for a small fortune.
He stumbled out of the alley into the street.
Above him, the sky was a claustrophobic mess of holographic advertisements, each one brighter and more intrusive than the last.
An interface flickered into his vision: [City: Night City] [District: Watson] [Street: Little China] [Factions: Tyger Claws, Scavengers] [Evaluation: This was supposed to be the new city center, but it was swallowed by refugees and corporate neglect.
It’s poor, loud, and dangerous—the perfect place for a nobody to get lost.] As he stood there, three motorcycles roared past, the riders waving katanas and firing automatic weapons into the sky, laughing like lunatics.
Levi watched them, a grim smile touching his lips.
He liked the smell of gunpowder in the air.
It meant that in this city, violence wasn’t just a language—it was the only one that mattered.
He needed a ripperdoc.
And he needed these bullets out of his gut, fast.