From The Frying Pan Into The Fire

Night City - 2063

The urban heart was beating as strong as ever. Pulsing ever more with the neon-colored signs flung on each and every fucking building in this city.

It was a damn venus trap. Ready to take your dreams, heart, and soul. With just one single swipe of some rich fuck's bank account.

But we are all damn dreamers. For the opportunity of just a slight betterment of one's situation. And it brings trouble in the same amount.

Tylor was no exception here. And looking down at the lower streets from the roof of an apartment mega-complex sure had its charms as well.

The techno-rock-metal music was dropping in beats and so was his head in the rhythm to it. The chewing gum in his mouth showed its neon blue color in full bloom until it popped and went back into his mouth.

What was most beautiful was the long and cold object in his hands that was pointed towards a cross-section a few thousand meters away.

The crosshair was placed directly at the head of a guy clad in expensive clothes totally screaming moneybag to everyone that came across him.

Sad thing is, the person just had to be dead now.

Yep, a clean bullet to the head just did the trick. That was his job and he did fulfill it without asking stupid questions. Somewhere, somehow, that guy just made a bad impression and landed right into that venus trap.

After having pulled off the shot and still vibing his head to the music he took off his headphones and let them rest around his neck.

A sole empty bullet cartridge was lying close to him that he proceeded to pick up.

Leaning his sniper rifle on his shoulders, the kid called Tylor that looked not older than 13 years was now looking with his neon blue eyes towards another direction.

A smirk appeared on his face after noticing a security camera being aimed at him.

"Pow~~" He only made an explosion gesture with one hand that included that sound effect towards it and suddenly the camera fried its own circuits and stopped working.

Standing up leisurely the kid with comfy black baggy pants and a massive katana strapped at his hips started to dust off those mentioned pants so that the two green neon LED lines on the left side running down the left leg shined brighter once more.

Then with a used easy pull of the hoodie, he started walking away. The smirk still on his face while the music rang from his headphones.

----

"Did you get the job done?" A woman asked while drinking a glass of what looked to be whiskey.

The kid reached with one hand behind his head just a little bit further than his ear and ejected a data chip from his neural cortex.

"I recorded everything.", answered Tylor and handed her the chip.

The woman took the chip and then jacked it into her own neural cyber implant. That was basically the most basic implant that everyone possessed in this day and age. It pretty much became mandatory for every human to get these. Even poor folks would get them since it was very much necessary.

After a short looking through the data and playing the recording of the kill the woman then nodded and ejected the chip.

"Well done, you are getting better and better at what you are doing." Her eyes shone again with a holographic shine before a message appeared in front of the kid's peripheral vision that told him his bank account had risen by €$1500.

A life was sadly not worth much. It was like that half a century ago and it was even more so today.

"Always a pleasure to make some money. Anyway, if you got more of those just hit me up." Tylor smiled friendly but inside he was indifferent about this whole shit. He learned quickly this world is a fucked up place.

Only the law of the jungle could be used here and he was sure to make sure he stayed alive no matter what.

But with no money, it would of course not be so easy.

The woman laughed lightly. "Oh, I will. Actually, there is someone that wants to meet you. You better don't miss that opportunity."

"It depends on who the one is that wants to see me...", stated Tylor. He would not just walk around to some fuck that would use him as a mere tool. Even if he was one currently. He had at least some standards and ambitions.

"Visit the Afterlife club. Tell the local bouncer there that Widow sent you. The person should know and you will get to meet your contact...But seriously, why do you not use your smartphone? You are as old fashioned as being in the stone age, kid." The woman smirked at the quirk this kid had in being as offline as someone can be in this day and age.

"Sorry, I have my reasons. Anyway, thanks. See ya."

The woman nodded and then looked away from him. At the same moment, another person appeared close to them and also seemed to want to talk with her.

A fixer is always sought after no matter where. They were the lifeblood of every street rat. It was what made sure you could survive the next day without starving.

And in Tylor's eyes also a necessity that could keep you away from more trouble than he needed.

When he was outside the dinner that he had visited just a second ago he jumped on his hoverboard and slowly glided over the street avoiding all other people that stood in his way.

His facial expression was of wonder and even his brows were furrowed.

'Man, the afterlife bar, huh? Sure enough, I finally seem to have been noticed and got a contact there. I wonder who it is?'

Tylor was no fool to believe he had gotten the attention of Rogue who was already leading the Afterlife at the current time.