The First Fight

(This chapter might have topics some people might find disturbing please read at your own discretion) 

The room smelled like mildew and old sweat, but after the last day, I could've slept in a trash heap. The bed creaked every time I breathed, springs digging into my back, but it didn't matter. I was finally able to let my guard down, just for a moment. 

In here, it was almost quiet, save for the buzz of the neon sign outside. I was on the edge of sleep, drifting into that half-conscious state where everything felt distant and slow.

And then, something cut through that haze, a sound, barely there. The door. It slid open with a hiss, soft but enough to jolt my senses. I didn't move, didn't breathe. Stayed still, and kept my eyes shut. Listening. Someone was in my room. The door clicked shut, A shadow moved, long and dark, sliding across the room. Someone was dropping something to the ground.

I kept my breathing steady, and slow, like I was still asleep. The footsteps were soft, too soft like whoever it was didn't want to wake me. they were trying to be careful, but I could hear the weight of them, the hesitation in their steps. they weren't here to rob me, that much was obvious. I could feel their gaze on me, like a physical thing, creeping over my skin, lingering. 

I could smell them now, stale beer and sweat, a hint of something metallic, like a faint whiff of blood. The bed dipped, and that was when I knew. they were on me. I fought the urge to scream, to lash out wildly. I waited, heart hammering, adrenaline surging through my veins like fire. Their hand brushed against the blanket, and I knew if I waited any longer, it would be too late.

My eyes snapped open, and I saw his face, twisted in some sick grin, eyes gleaming with a perverse excitement. Time slowed, the world shrinking to just him and me. My mind screamed, but my body knew what to do. I reached out and felt the cold metal materialize in my hand, a pipe, heavy, solid.

 I swung with everything I had and felt the satisfying crunch as metal met bone. He didn't even have time to scream, just a wet gurgle as he crumpled, clutching his head, blood spilling through his fingers. The look in his eyes changed from cruel anticipation to fear and shock. He wasn't expecting a fight. 

Good. Fuck him. I wasn't about to let some piece of street trash turn me into his next victim. I raised the pipe again, my breath coming fast and hard, and brought it down, again and again. His face was a bloody ruin now, the twisted grin replaced by a look of utter terror.

 I just swung again, and again, each blow fueled by the kind of fear that turns to fury in a blink.

He went down after the second hit, his body hitting the filthy floor with a heavy thud. But I wasn't done. Not yet. I stood over him, chest heaving, sweat mixing with the grime on my skin. He was twitching, one arm jerking as if it still had a mind of its own. Pathetic. 

I stared down at him, the blood pooling out from beneath his head, thick and dark. His eyes were still open, but there was nothing behind them now, just the empty look of someone who didn't realize how quickly things could change. The room was quiet except for my breath, ragged and harsh in the heavy air.

I let the pipe fall from my hand, the clatter loud in the silence. My fingers were slick with blood, his blood, and it dripped onto the floor, I'd come to being another victim in this city. But I wasn't. I'd survived, and he hadn't. Simple as that.

Flicking on the light, I took in the full, disgusting sight of him. He was naked, sprawled out on the bed. His body was pale, his skin covered in scars and marks, and the sight of it made my stomach churn. I forced myself to look away. I wasn't going to waste any more time on him.

I moved to his clothes that were near the end of the bed, searching through them quickly. The usual trash, some lint, a dirty tissue. Then I found the Eddies, a small, pitiful wad of cash. Two hundred. I stuffed it into my pocket. That was my money now. 

Next, I pulled out a gun from his coat pocket it looked cheap. As I tossed it into my storage its name appeared, A Slaughtomatic. I smirked despite myself. Now I had something more than just the pipe for protection. 

Digging deeper, I found a pack of cigarettes, a few loose rounds of ammo, and a knife that looked like it had been through a lot. I slipped it all into my storage, the system pinging softly in my head as each item was cataloged. The clothes themselves were far too big for me so I couldn't wear them.

I took a step back, lighting one of the cigarettes with a practiced flick of my wrist. The first drag burned, but it was a good burn, familiar and steadying. My hand shook as I brought the cigarette to my lips again, the smoke curling up into the stale air. I closed my eyes, letting the nicotine settle my nerves, even if just for a moment.

But I knew I couldn't stay here. The smell of blood and sweat was thick, and the mess I'd made wasn't going to go unnoticed for long. Someone would come eventually, either the manager, pissed off about the noise, or some other lowlife that might have been with him.

But his boots, those I could use even if they were too big. Pulling them on as my hands trembled as I took another drag of the cigarette. I'd had better smokes, sure, but right now, I didn't care. Anything to steady the shaking. I blew out a slow stream of smoke, watching it curl and dissipate in the stale air of the room.

I scanned the space around me, my eyes landing on the damp sweater hanging over the chair. I'd washed it earlier, hoping it would at least feel a little cleaner when I put it back on. Now, it was just another thing I couldn't leave behind. I grabbed it, feeling the cold, wet fabric cling to my fingers. Useless, but still mine. I folded it and stored it away in my system.

The pipe lay on the floor, a dark stain on its rusted surfaces. His blood. I stooped to pick it up, feeling its weight, solid and reassuring in my grip, And cleaned it on his clothes before it too disappeared into storage. The room was almost clean again, save for the body and his clothes.

I wasn't sticking around to admire my work. Time to go.

The door hissed open, and I slipped into the hallway, my senses sharp despite the exhaustion pulling at my bones. The flickering lights made me more nervous, but I kept moving. The cigarette was still burning between my lips, a thin line of smoke trailing behind me. 

The boots I'd taken from him were better than the sandals, they were solid leather, decent tread. They were a little loose, but I could tighten them up. The sandals I'd had before were a joke, more holes than soles. I flexed my toes inside them, feeling the sturdiness, and allowed myself a small smile. 

Then I heard it, a low, muffled moan from one of the rooms. I paused, the sound cutting through the quiet like a knife. Curiosity and instinct made me lean closer, listening. The noise came again, more urgent this time, and I edged towards the door, my breath held tight in my chest. "Fuck not another freak needing to be put down..." I whispered to myself.

Inside, the girl from the front desk was on her knees, head bobbing between some guy's legs. The man's face was hidden in the shadows, but her expression was clear eyes closed, lips parted around him, lost in the act. He had one hand tangled in her hair, guiding her movements with a roughness. 

It wasn't my business. I pulled away from the door, shaking my head to clear the unwanted thoughts, looked like it was consensual fucking. I kept moving, each step down the hallway echoing.

I pushed through the final door and stepped out into the cool night air. The street was active with people walking. The cigarette was down to the filter now, the acrid taste making my throat burn. I took one last drag, felt the paper singe my lips, and then flicked it away.

"Fucking awful," I muttered, the taste still bitter on my tongue. I started to walk out of Haywood into some new part of night city, My boots hit the pavement with a satisfying thud.

The night air was cool, a slight breeze rustling through the streets as I walked away from Calle Oscura. I adjusted the white t-shirt that hung loosely on my frame it was a size too big, the fabric soft against my skin. The jeans I'd found in the closet earlier were held up by the string from the hoodie, cinched tight around my waist to keep them from slipping down. 

 The streets were becoming busier as I headed deeper into Night City, the grittiness of the outer edges giving way to something far more polished. The buildings were taller here, their glass facades gleaming under the bright lights that lit up the night like it was day. Everything was cleaner, fancier, like a whole different city from the one I'd just left behind.

Neon signs blazed overhead, advertising everything from luxury apartments to high-end cyberware. The sidewalks were crowded with people, all dressed in sleek, expensive clothes that made me feel even more out of place. But no one paid me any attention thankfully.

As I walked, I couldn't help but notice the cops patrolling the streets. They weren't like the ones back in Gotham, these guys looked like they were straight out of a sci-fi movie. Their uniforms were sleek, almost futuristic, and some of them had visible cyberware enhancements, glowing faintly under the streetlights. Others weren't even human—humanoid robots that moved eerie, their glowing eyes scanning the crowd as they walked by.

Overhead, drones buzzed through the air between the tall buildings. Some of them were police, others were delivering packages or recording the nightlife below. The sky was a mess of flashing lights and moving shadows, all under the constant watch of the city's security.

Moving through the streams of people, The nightlife in this part of the city was something else, clubs pulsing with music, bars overflowing with people laughing and shouting, all of them wrapped up in the electric energy of the city. It was a stark contrast to the quiet desperation of the outer districts, Hell I was slightly distracted by the tall building with the red logo on it. 

Here, it was all about status, about showing off who had the best tech, the most money, the most power. I could see it in the way people walked, the way they talked, the way they looked at each other with a mix of envy and disdain. So they were probably Corpo's.

I kept moving, not wanting to linger in one place for too long. The fancy clothes, the high-tech gadgets, and the luxury cars gliding silently down the street were really something else. 

The neon lights flickered as I left the fancy part of Night City behind. The sleek, polished streets gave way to something grittier, dirtier. It was like stepping back into a more familiar place, even if it wasn't exactly welcoming. The people here weren't dressed in designer clothes, and the air wasn't filled with the scent of expensive colognes. 

As I walked, I saw prostitutes working the corners, their bright outfits and heavy makeup barely masking the exhaustion in their eyes. They leaned against walls, chatting with each other or calling out to potential customers who passed by.

Ahead of me, the neon lights of a bar or club lit up the street, casting a glow. The place looked like it was in decent shape compared to the surrounding buildings, well-maintained, with cute girls standing guard at the door. They were dressed in skimpy clothes, holding bats, their confident stances showing they weren't scared of anyone. I couldn't help but admire their outfits. But as much as I liked what I saw, I was too tired to think about anything other than finding a place to crash.

I spotted a rundown building across the street from the bar. It wasn't much to look at, cracked walls, and boarded-up windows, but it looked empty, and that was all I needed. The first floor was already taken by a bunch of homeless people, huddled together under makeshift shelters of cardboard and old blankets. I didn't want to disturb them, and I definitely didn't want to sleep on the ground, so I figured the higher floors might be a better bet.

Getting up there wasn't going to be easy, though. The building was old, and from what I could see from walking around the stairs were broken. I'd have to climb my way up the outside, using whatever handholds I could find. I eyed the wall, spotting a few ledges and cracks that looked like they might hold my weight.

I started climbing, my fingers digging into the rough concrete as I pulled myself up. The wall was damp in places, and I had to be careful not to lose my grip. My arms and legs ached as I made my way up, my muscles burning from the effort. I wasn't exactly strong, and I didn't weigh much probably 60, maybe 70 pounds at most so I wouldn't be breaking anything with my climb hopefully.

By the time I reached the second floor, I was panting, my whole body trembling from the strain. I hauled myself over the edge and collapsed onto the floor, taking a moment to catch my breath. The floor was dusty, the air stale, but it was better than being outside. I was safe up here or at least safer than I would have been on the street hopefully.

The room I'd climbed into was empty except for some old, dusty furniture, an abandoned bed, a dresser with one of its drawers missing, and a chair. The building didn't have any power, and the only light came from the neon glow filtering in through the windows.

At least it was empty. And as I got up to check around outside the room. I found the stairs leading down were completely broken, crumbling into nothing halfway down. That was good, I just had to make sure. it meant no one could follow me up here easily. 

As I leaned against the wall to catch my breath, I glanced out the window at the bar below. I again turned my attain to the few girls who were standing outside, guarding the entrance of the bar. They looked cute, tough, and confident, everything I wasn't feeling right now. 

The room itself was a mess, but it had potential. I could clean it up tomorrow, maybe make it a little more livable. For now, though, I just needed to get some rest. I spotted an old mattress in the corner, covered in a thick layer of dust. It wasn't exactly inviting, but it was better than the floor.

I dragged myself over to it, brushing off as much of the dust as I could before collapsing onto the mattress. It creaked under my weight, but it held. I pulled a dirty sheet over me, trying to get comfortable despite the grime and the stiffness of the old mattress.

The exhaustion hit me hard as soon as I lay down. My body ached, and my mind was spinning, but the tiredness won out. The sounds of the city filtered in through the windows, but they were distant, almost comforting in a way. 

I'd deal with everything else tomorrow. For now, I just needed sleep. My eyes closed, and I drifted off, the neon lights casting faint colors across the room as I finally let myself rest.