Quest for Justice

The first rays of morning light pierced through the cracked window, landing square on my face. I groaned, rolling over and pulling the dusty sheet over my head, trying to block out the light. It was useless, the thin fabric did nothing to keep the brightness out. I was still exhausted, my body heavy with the kind of fatigue that comes from more than just lack of sleep. 

I finally gave up on the idea of getting more sleep and sat up, rubbing my eyes and taking a deep breath. The room around me was quiet, the dust motes dancing in the shafts of sunlight. I hadn't slept well, not that I could have expected to. Every little noise had jolted me awake, but any sleep was better than none at this point.

I glanced around the room, my temporary hideout in this unfamiliar city. The dust was still thick on every surface, the air stale and musty. I knew I needed to clean this place up if I was going to stay here for more than a night, but that meant getting supplies, something I didn't have right now. My stomach growled, which meant I also needed to get food.

I sighed, pushing myself up off the bed and stretching. My muscles were stiff, sore from the climb up to this floor last night, and the stress of everything that had happened before that.

I dug into my system storage, pulling out a few snacks I'd scavenged yesterday, some slightly stale crackers, and an energy drink that tasted like pure sugar sludge. I sat on the edge of the bed, munching on the crackers and letting my mind wander. The first few bites didn't do much to satisfy the gnawing hunger in my belly, but I forced them down anyway. I needed to keep my strength up, and who knew when I'd find more food or I'd buy some.

As I ate, I decided to check out the rest of the floor. I stood up, stretching out my stiff muscles, and walked over to the door. It slid open with a quiet hiss, revealing a dimly lit hallway beyond. The walls were scarred with bullet holes, some fresh, others long since rusted over. This place had seen its share of violence, just like the rest of Night City, no doubt. 

I pulled out one of the cigarettes I'd taken from the less than human scum, I think they would call them gonks here, I took a drag and then counted how many I had left, just five. Not much, but enough to last me a day or two if I was careful. I flicked the ash onto the floor and stepped out into the hallway, the soft glow of the neon lights outside barely reaching this far.

The first few doors I tried slid open easily enough, revealing empty, trashed apartments. Most of them were just as dusty and rundown as the one I'd slept in, but I kept looking, hoping to find something better. 

Further down the hallway, I found a room with a radio. It was old, but when I wiped it down, it looked like it might still work. I fiddled with the dials, And it seemed to still work, I'd need to get some batteries for this too. 

Some of the apartment doors wouldn't budge, no matter how hard I pushed or pulled. They were locked tight, probably sealed off when the building went to hell. But that just made me more curious—if they were still locked, maybe there was something worth finding inside. I made a mental note to try and find a way to get them open later, once I had a better idea of what I was dealing with.

As I continued exploring, I started thinking about switching apartments altogether. The one I'd slept in wasn't bad, but it wasn't great either. If I could find something better, even just a room with fewer bullet holes in the walls, it might be worth the effort. 

I finished my cigarette, stubbing it out on the floor as I continued my search. The dust was starting to irritate my throat, and the stale air wasn't doing me any favors either, but I ignored it. I was about to give up when I opened the next door and saw something different.

The room was bigger, the walls not as scarred as the others. The windows were intact, letting in more light, though the glass was covered in grime. There was a small kitchen area to the side, a stove, and a sink that looked like they hadn't been used in years. There was also a tiny bathroom, the sliding door seemed to be stuck open, but it was a bathroom nonetheless.

I stepped further inside, my eyes scanning the room. It was dusty as hell, just like the rest, but there was more here. I spotted an old assault rifle lying against the wall, half-hidden under a pile of dirty clothes. I wasn't much for guns, especially not one like this. It was heavy and I doubted I'd be able to handle the kick if I ever fired it. Still, it could be worth something. I stored it away in my system.

[rifle grade 1]

The apartment had more furniture too, a hammock hanging by the windows, a desk cluttered with old electronics and papers, that could be useful to learn and mess around with, and a table covered in dishes and empty cans. It looked like someone had been squatting here for a while, but they'd cleared out. On the far side of the room, I spotted a small balcony through a sliding metal and glass door. That was a nice surprise. A way to get fresh air without having to go down to the street. I made a mental note of that, could come in handy if I needed a quick escape or just a place to sit and think.

I took another step forward and spotted another radio sitting on a shelf. I walked over and brushed the dust away, my fingers leaving streaks on the grimy surface. I fiddled with the dials, it crackled to life. It wasn't much, just a faint hum of music and the occasional burst of static. Nice two working radios. I could use one for parts if I needed to fix the other.

I continued my exploration, peeking into the small kitchen. The cabinets were mostly empty, save for a couple of old, rusted cans and some broken dishes. The stove didn't look like it would work, but the sink might, and as I turned the nob it surprisingly did work. The bathroom was tiny, with just a toilet, a cracked sink, and a small shower. 

I took a moment to look around the whole space, thinking about what I could do with it. It was dusty, sure, but it had potential. The windows didn't face anything that could see inside, which meant more privacy, and the balcony was a bonus. I could make this place work. It was leagues better than the room I'd crashed in last night, and with a little cleaning, it could almost feel like a home.

I made my decision then and there. This was going to be my new spot. I'd clean it up, get it organized, and settle in for however long I could. The thought brought a small smile to my face. I knew I needed to get out, and get what I needed to make this new place livable.

The door slid shut behind me as I stepped into the hallway. I made it back to the room I had spent the night in and approached the broken window. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for the climb. With a quick glance to make sure no one was watching, I hoisted myself up onto the windowsill. My fingers found purchase on the rough brick exterior, and I slowly began to make my way down.

Hand over hand, I lowered myself down, trying to ignore the dizzying drop below. The muscles in my arms and legs ached, but I gritted my teeth and kept going.

The streets were a stir, the distant hum of traffic and faint echoes of conversation reaching my ears. I could see people moving about, starting their day.

I resumed my climb, moving faster now that my nerves had steadied a bit. When I finally reached the ground, my arms were trembling with exhaustion. I took a moment to steady myself, breathing deeply to calm my racing heart.

I moved to join the crowd of people walking, trying to blend in and stay unnoticed. The bar across the street was still lit up, its neon signs flickering even in the morning light. The garish colors reflected off the puddles on the cracked pavement. The girls I'd seen the night before had been replaced by a couple of new faces. One of them caught my eye, a girl around my age, maybe a bit older or younger I wasn't sure given her height. Her skin had a bluish tint, almost like she'd been dipped in ice water, and her hair was a wild shade of greenish-blue, pulled into twin tails that bobbed as she moved. And she had a pink Tattoo I couldn't really see what it was given the distance between us.

She noticed me staring and didn't waste a second. "Hey, you got a problem, gonk?" she barked, her voice sharp like a knife. She threw up both middle fingers, making sure I got the message loud and clear.

I blinked, momentarily stunned by her hostility. This was Night City, though, I should have known better. I decided to keep moving, not wanting to get into it with some stranger.

"That's right, you better move!" she shouted after me, her voice cutting through the noise of the street. I kept my head down and quickened my pace, but I could still hear her laughing with a wild, unhinged edge as I put some distance between us. I really needed to know who those people were.

As I walked away, I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd seen her somewhere before, I felt like it was something I had watched with my little brother back in Gotham. Her whole vibe screamed trouble, but I did love trouble makers, just would have to wait until I knew who I was dealing with as well as once I had some meat on my bones. I kept to the middle of the street, weaving through the early morning crowds. 

 The city was buzzing with street performers starting their routines, and the steady hum of traffic echoing off the buildings. Despite everything, there was something oddly comforting about being surrounded by people going about their lives. For a moment, I could almost pretend things were normal.

As I made my way down the street, The hum of engines, the chatter of people, and the occasional shout or laugh from across the way filled the air.

I passed by a street vendor selling some kind of meat kebabs, the smell hitting me with a mix of spices. When I had asked I came to learn it was Synthetic meat. I was surprised a bit which they seemed to notice and asked If I was a nomad, I agreed since that might help me cause I was still learning. And they explained a bit.

As I continued walking, I noticed a small group of people huddled near the corner of a building, talking in hushed tones. Their voices were low, but certain words stood out, catching my attention. "Mox," "territory," "protection." I slowed my pace slightly, letting their conversation filter through the noise of the street.

The Mox. Was the graffiti I saw around there's? bright blues and pinks, usually near bars and clubs. From what little I heard, they weren't like the other gangs in Night City. They weren't in it for the money or the power, well not directly, anyway. They were mostly made up of sex workers, joy toys, and runaway kids.

I heard one of the group, a woman with a shaved head and a face full of piercings, talking about how the Mox had chased off a couple of Tiger Claws the night before. Apparently, the Tiger Claws had tried to muscle in on some territory near Lizzie's Bar, but the Mox weren't having any of it. "They don't mess around when it comes to their own," she said, her voice tinged with admiration.

The more I heard, the more I felt a strange sense of respect for the Mox. They were tough, sure, but they seemed to have a code. They looked out for the sex workers who couldn't always look out for themselves. That kind of loyalty was rare in a place like this. Still, it was hard to tell where the line between protection and exploitation lay, especially since everyone had their own angle. But I might just join them for the moment, maybe. I could maybe get a job there to make some eddies as well. 

I made a mental note to keep an eye on the Mox and their movements. They might not be as overtly dangerous as some of the other gangs, but that didn't mean they were harmless. In this city, it paid to know who was who and where their turf ended.

As I moved on, the street opened up into a wider avenue, the buildings taller. Neon signs flickered in the morning light, still vibrant even against the glow of the sun. 

The more I walked, the more I thought about what I'd overheard about the Mox. I was low on Eddies, and dumpster diving wasn't a sustainable plan. Sure, I'd gotten lucky so far with a few decent finds, but I couldn't count on finding something valuable every time I went rooting through the trash. No, if I wanted to make it in this city, I'd need a steadier source of income. And the Mox, well, they seemed like a possible option.

Working for the Mox might not be the worst idea. They had their hands in a lot of different things around here, and they seemed to have a decent rep for looking out for their own. Maybe they could use someone like me, I could run deliveries or clean. At the very least, I could use the Eddies.

As I considered my options, I kept walking, heading deeper into a part of the city I hadn't explored much. 

That's when I started hearing whispers about the gang that tried to move into the Mox turf: the Tiger Claws. Their name kept popping up in conversations as I moved through the streets, catching bits and pieces from passing groups of people. It seemed like everyone had something to say about them, and none of it was good.

From what I could gather, the Tiger Claws were a big deal around here, especially in areas like Japantown. They were known for being ruthless, controlling a lot of territory, and dealing in all sorts of shady business, drugs, weapons, human trafficking, and extortion. 

As I listened, I began to realize just how dangerous they were. The Claws weren't just another street gang, they were organized, with a strict hierarchy and deep connections in the underworld and connection with the corpos. I overheard one guy saying that if you crossed them, you'd better be ready to disappear because that's what they'd make you do. Permanently.

I knew I needed to be careful around here. The last thing I wanted was to get caught in the middle of a gang war, or worse, accidentally step on the wrong toes for now. The more I learned about the Claws, the better off I'd be.

The thought crossed my mind again: maybe working for the Mox wasn't such a bad idea after all. They had beef with the Tiger Claws, sure, but that might actually work in my favor. I continued walking, my mind racing with everything I'd learned.

I spotted a small corner shop nestled between two larger buildings. It looked like it had been there forever, the kind of place that sold anything and everything.

Before stepping inside, I ducked into a nearby alley to make sure I wasn't being followed. I scanned the area, nothing but a few trash bins and some discarded boxes. Satisfied, I reached into my system storage and carefully pulled out the old assault rifle I'd found in the abandoned apartment.I was so fucking lucky i found something like this. I knew I couldn't just stroll into the shop with a gun, so I pulled out a worn wet sweater I'd been carrying and wrapped it around the rifle, making sure it was fully covered.

Holding the bundled sweater under my arm, I stepped out of the alley and headed into the shop. The bell above the door chimed softly as I entered, and I was immediately hit by the familiar smell of dust and stale air. The store was cramped, shelves overflowing with canned goods to cleaning supplies.

I moved through the narrow aisles, keeping an eye out for what I needed. I found the cleaning supplies section quickly and grabbed a few rags, 2 bottles of cleaner, and a small broom. I also spotted a 12 pack case of water bottles on a lower shelf. Real water fuck yes no more of that nasty energy drink. I Placed the gun wrapped in the sweater on top of it and lifted it up with both of my hands, feeling its weight, but knowing it would be worth it.

Next, I headed over to the small refrigerated section in the back. Most of the food was synthetic, just as I expected—instant noodles, pre-packaged meals made from SCOP, and a few cans of synthesized meat. I grabbed a couple of noodle packs and a can of meat, knowing that while it wouldn't be gourmet, it would keep me going. I also grabbed a few rags.

With my supplies in hand, I approached the counter where an older Japanese woman was waiting. She watched me with sharp eyes as I placed my items on the counter. The shop was quiet, just the hum of a small fan in the corner and the occasional creak from the shelves as a train pasted.

She rang up the items, her eyes lingering on the bundle. "What's that?" she asked, nodding toward the sweater.

I hesitated for a second, then decided to take a chance. "Something I found. Thought it might be worth selling," I replied, carefully unwrapping the sweater just enough to reveal part of the rifle.

Her eyes widened slightly, but instead of alarm, I saw interest. She leaned closer, peering at the exposed part of the gun. "Old model," she said quietly, her voice steady. "Where'd you get it?"

"An abandoned apartment," I answered, trying to keep my tone casual. "Figured it might be worth something."

She nodded slowly, her eyes still on the rifle. "Let me see it," she said, holding out her hands. I handed over the bundled sweater, and she unwrapped it fully, revealing the full length of the rifle. Her eyes seemed to light up a bit as she inspected it, running her fingers over the metal and checking the magazine.

"This is older than most Ive see," she said, more to herself than to me. "Not many of these left in the city. It's seen better days, but it's still in good condition, worth something." She glanced up at me, her eyes calculating. "I'll give you 500 Eddies for it. That's more than I'd usually offer."

I couldn't help but smile, trying to keep my excitement in check. "500 sounds good to me," I said, doing my best to sound casual and failing.

She gave me a small nod as a small smile cresed her lips as she started counting out the Eddies. As she did, she looked up at me again, her expression softening slightly. "You're mixed race, aren't you?"

I blinked, surprised by the question. "Yeah, I am. Why do you ask?"

She shrugged, a hint of a smile on her lips. "You remind me of someone I knew a long time ago. Back in Japan. Similar look, same eyes. Just an observation."

I nodded, not really sure how to respond, but I appreciated the sentiment. "Thanks," I said simply.

She finished counting the Eddies and handed them over, along with my purchased items. "That'll be 150 Eddies for the supplies and the food," she said.

I quickly did the math in my head. With the 500 Eddies from the rifle and the 350 I already had saved up, that brought my total to 850. After paying for the supplies and food, I'd have 700 Eddies left. Not bad for a day's work.

I handed over the 150 Eddies for the supplies and food, pocketing the remaining 700. "Thank you," I said, giving her a polite nod.

"Be careful out there," she said as I turned to leave. 

I nodded in acknowledgment and stepped out of the store, the bell above the door chiming again as I exited. The street outside was even busier now, the hum of activity with the sun high in the sky. I slipped back into the alley to secure my new purchases in my system storage. With everything tucked away, I took a moment to catch my breath and felt a small sense of satisfaction.

I had 700 Eddies in my pocket, a few supplies to make my hideout more livable, and enough food to last me a few days. As I walked, I spotted a row of dumpsters behind a series of rundown shops. I hadn't planned on going dumpster diving again, but maybe just this last time. 

I approached the first dumpster cautiously, checking to make sure no one was watching. The lid creaked loudly as I lifted it, the smell of rotting food and who knows what else hitting me in a wave. I grimaced, but leaned in closer, sifting through the trash. The first dumpster was a bust, nothing but broken bottles, old food wrappers, and scraps of metal too small to be worth anything.

Moving on to the next one, I tried my luck again. This dumpster was filled with discarded electronics, mostly broken tech that no one would want. I took them to break down later, I found a few old circuit boards as well with some frayed wiring, but nothing that would be worth the effort to sell. I tossed it to the side, frustration building as I closed the lid and moved on.

The third dumpster was positioned near the back of a small electronics repair shop. My hopes rose slightly; maybe someone had thrown out something that still had a bit of life left in it. I opened the lid and peered inside, carefully shifting through the piles of discarded tech and packaging materials. A few broken screens, a busted keyboard, a couple of old batteries that looked like they might still have some juice left in them, I pocketed the batteries.

As I moved to the fourth dumpster, I tried not to get my hopes up. This one was tucked away behind a building with a faded neon. The name suggested it might have some interesting junk. I opened the lid and started sorting through the contents. I was about to give up when something at the bottom caught my eye.

A small, black case was half-buried under a pile of discarded paper and plastic. I reached down and pulled it out, brushing off the grime. The case was surprisingly heavy, and the latches were still intact. It looked like it had been well-made, the kind of thing someone might use to store something valuable.

I pried it open, my heart beating a little faster. Inside, nestled in a padded interior, was a small, compact drone. It wasn't the latest model, but it looked like it was in good condition. The battery was missing, but that was something I could scavenge or buy later. This could be worth a decent amount if I found the right buyer or better yet, I could use it myself for surveillance or recon. I stored the drone in my system storage, a smile tugging at my lips. Talk about lucky.

I closed the lid and continued down the alley, deciding to check one more dumpster before calling it quits. This one was positioned near an alleyway, half-hidden behind a stack of old crates. I approached it cautiously, the hairs on the back of my neck standing up. Something didn't feel right, but I couldn't put my finger on it.

I lifted the lid slowly, the hinges groaning in protest. The smell hit me first, I know it would sound odd but it smelled like death. I gagged, stepping back for a moment to catch my breath. Once I'd steeled myself, I leaned back in, pushing aside a layer of trash. That's when I saw it, a pale, slender hand reaching out from beneath the trash, half-covered by a torn plastic bag.

My breath hitched, more out of instinct than shock. But there was something unsettling about seeing a body so carelessly discarded, as though she were nothing more than another piece of trash in the garbage. I jumped in, pushing more of the trash away to reveal the rest of her.

She couldn't have been more than sixteen or seventeen. Her face, despite the grime and blood, had a softness to it, the kind that hadn't yet been fully hardened by the brutal reality of this world. A bullet hole marred her forehead, the blood still wet and glistening under the light. Whoever had done this had made sure there was no chance of survival.

A cold anger started to build in my chest, creeping up my spine and settling like a stone in the pit of my stomach. This girl she reminded me of my brother. The thought was like a knife to the gut, twisting and cutting deeper with each passing second. I clenched my fists, feeling my nails dig into my palms, but I didn't care. All I could think about was how easily this could have been him, lying here in the trash, his life snuffed out like it meant nothing.

I forced myself to focus, to breathe through the rage. I had to be smart about this. If I let the anger control me, I'd end up just like her. But that didn't mean I was going to just walk away, either.

I scanned the girl's body, looking for anything that might tell me who she was, what had happened to her. Her clothes were simple, but there was a jacket, a sleek, sleeveless design that looked like it had been custom-made. It was in surprisingly good condition, no holes. I carefully slid it off her, avoiding the worst of the blood, and tried it on. The fit was perfect, snug but comfortable.

"consider this payment for the hell I'm going to give the people that did this to you."

As I continued to search her, my hands moving,I found a port near her neck and pressed it gently as a shard came out, its smooth surface unmarked by the filth surrounding it. I slipped it into my system storage, knowing that whatever data was on it might be the key to finding out who did this to her.

A knife was strapped to her belt, a simple but sturdy blade. I unbuckled it and stashed it away, feeling the cool metal against my skin as I secured it. 

As I straightened up, something flickered in the corner of my vision. I turned, and there it was—a quest prompt, hovering just above the girl's body, glowing with a soft, pulsing red light. The words were clear, sharp.

"Quest: Discover and Avenge the Dead Girl."

I looked down at the girl one last time, the quest prompt still glowing softly above her. She deserved better than to be left here, forgotten and alone. I wasn't going to let that happen. I was going to find out who she was, who had done this to her, and I was going to make them regret it.

With the jacket on and the rest of the loot stored safely in my system, I took a deep breath and jumped out of the dumpster. I had a mission now.

### **Quest: Discover and Avenge the Dead Girl**

**Objective:** 

- **Identify the Victim**: Use the shard found in the girl's pocket to gather information about her identity and background.

Optional: alert her family.

- **Track Down the Killer**: Follow leads uncovered during the investigation to find the person or group responsible for the girl's death.

- **Exact Revenge**: Bring justice to the girl by ensuring that her killer pays for their crimes.

**Details:** 

A young girl's body was discovered in a dumpster, discarded like garbage. She appears to have been executed with a single, precise shot to the forehead. This quest is a personal mission driven by a sense of justice and a desire for vengeance. Yumi must navigate the dangerous streets of Night City to uncover the truth behind the girl's death and ensure the perpetrators face the consequences.

**Quest Steps:** 

**Analyze the Shard**: Use your system's interface to access the data on the shard.

 **Deliver Justice**: Decide the fate of the culprits—whether through lethal force, exposing them, or turning them in to higher authorities.

**Reward:** 

- **Random Novice Data Chip**: A data chip containing skills that could be useful or could not.

- **Experience Points (XP)**: Gain experience for completing each stage of the quest.

I stood there for a moment, the quest still burning in my mind. But I knew I couldn't just leave her here, discarded like she meant nothing. An urge to make sure she was taken care of, that her family would at least know what happened to her.

I looked around, scanning the street for someone who looked like they might care. The city was bustling now, people going about their business. But then I spotted someone a man in his late thirties, maybe early forties, walking but not too hurried. He had the look of someone who hadn't completely lost his humanity to this city.

"Hey!" I called out, stepping into his path. He glanced up, surprised, but didn't immediately brush me off. That was a good start.

"What do you want, kid?" he asked, his voice gruff but not unkind.

"There's a body," I said, keeping my voice steady, though it took effort. "In the dumpster back there. A girl. She's been shot. Can you call the cops?"

He frowned, eyes flicking past me toward the dumpster I'd just left. For a moment, I thought he might walk away, pretend he hadn't heard me. But then he nodded, reaching for a phone and calling the cops. I listened to him give the address.

"Already done," he said after a moment, his gaze focusing back on me. "Cops are on their way."

"Thanks," I muttered, stepping back to let him pass. He gave me one last look, before continuing on his way.

I stood there for a few more seconds, watching him disappear into the crowd, before turning back to the street. My job here was done or at least, this part of it. The cops would come, and hopefully, they'd notify the girl's family. Maybe they'd be able to give her the kind of burial she deserved.

But I couldn't linger. The next step in that was clear, I needed a ripperdoc. Not just any back-alley butcher, though. I needed someone reputable, someone who wouldn't leave me dead on the table with my organs on the black market. The shard I'd found was no good to me without a Neural Interface Socket, and I needed access to whatever data was on it if I was going to get any closer to avenging the girl.

I needed that Neural Interface Socket. And I needed it fast.