David Martinez had never feared Katsuo Tanaka.
To be more precise—he'd never feared him at all.
In David's eyes, Katsuo was nothing but another spoiled corpo brat. A man who had been born with chrome in his veins and arrogance in his bones, all thanks to a rich father and a last name that opened doors.
Without those? He'd be nothing.
Katsuo had every advantage the system could buy—private tutors, premium implants, custom programs—but still, the only subject he'd ever outperformed David in was Braindance simulation theory.
And that was only because David couldn't afford the full-license update for his neural link.
David had crushed him in every other class.
So no, Katsuo Tanaka wasn't a threat. More like a buzzing, overclocked mosquito — annoying, loud, and far too pleased with himself.
…
David stood firm in the narrow alleyway behind Arasaka Academy, arms folded, posture relaxed.
"Why don't you take your two pets," he said evenly, "and crawl back to whatever hole you came from? You're blocking my space."
The words hung in the air.
For a moment there was silence.
Then, Katsuo's eyes widened. He froze, like his mind couldn't process what he'd just heard.
"W–What did you just say to me?" he hissed, his voice cracking with outrage. "You—you dare talk to me like that?"
His nostrils flared. "Is that it, Martinez? You think you've had it too easy lately? You want me to remind you of your place?"
David didn't move. He didn't blink. His expression was calm—too calm.
That only enraged Katsuo further.
"Unbelievable," Katsuo spat, his face twitching with disbelief. "A gutter rat calling me out? You should be grateful I even talk to you. I'm showing you some class unity, Martinez. You should thank me instead of—"
"Shut up."
That single phrase silenced the whole alley.
Even the two lackeys behind Katsuo flinched.
"Fine," Katsuo growled, shrugging off his pristine Arasaka blazer and handing it to one of his goons. "Guess I'll have to remind you who you're dealing with."
He raised his fists and made a few sharp movements through the air—whoosh, whoosh—each punch cutting through the stillness like a whip crack.
"Recognize this sound, Martinez?" Katsuo smirked. "It's the Kwei-Arm 400 Combat Chip—brand new, straight off the production line. Installs directly into the forearm cortex. The moment it activates, you fight like a master."
He struck again, faster this time, and the air itself hissed with each motion. His lackeys began to cheer him on, voices cracking like cheap speakers.
"Yeah! Go, Katsuo! Show him who's boss!"
"Hit that street rat till he cries, bro!"
For a moment, it really did look like Katsuo might be dangerous. His fists blurred, the chip syncing his muscles with automated precision.
But reality had changed—and Katsuo hadn't noticed.
David wasn't the same boy he used to bully.
He wasn't the quiet kid taking punches behind the gym, hiding his bruises under a jacket his mom had stitched together three times over.
Since that day—since the pain, the chrome, the Edgerunners—everything had changed.
His new implants weren't the expensive corpo type, but they were functional and tuned.
More importantly, he'd been training every day.
With Jackie Welles, who believed that the best way to learn was to get punched first.
With Rebecca, who thought dodging bullets was a great way to test reflexes.
And with Maine, whose workouts made death look like a vacation.
David had bled, cracked, and crawled through hell—and each time, he'd gotten up stronger.
Now he was done playing the victim.
…
Katsuo lunged.
His chip flared. His fist came flying toward David's face.
David brought his arms up, elbows tight, absorbing the hit with a metallic clang.
The impact reverberated through his frame.
He'd been hit harder.
He'd been hit by Maine.
So when Katsuo drew back for his next strike, David moved first.
His fist shot out like a piston.
BAM!
Katsuo's world went white.
A wet crack split the air—his nose shattering under David's punch. Blood spattered across the alley wall.
"AAAAH!"
Katsuo screamed, clutching his face. His fancy neural chip fizzled mid-sync.
So much for "fighting like a master."
David stepped forward, rolling his wrist. "You done showing off your new toy?"
Katsuo staggered back, trying to find words between the pain and humiliation. His two lackeys stared, wide-eyed.
They'd never seen their golden boy bleed before.
"Your turn," David said quietly, and before they could run—
THUD! THUD!
Two punches, two collapses. Both lackeys dropped like broken marionettes.
…
Moments later, the alley was silent except for the sound of heavy breathing. Katsuo and his men lay sprawled on the cold pavement, groaning.
David crouched beside them.
He plucked their credit chips from their jackets and stood.
"Listen close, all three of you," he said. "This stays between us. You open your mouths, and I'll make sure every screen in Arasaka Academy plays a rerun of you getting your teeth kicked in."
He smiled coldly. "On loop."
Then he turned and walked away.
…
The moment his footsteps faded, one of the lackeys scrambled up.
"Boss—boss, you okay?"
"Get off me!" Katsuo snapped, shoving him aside, blood still dripping from his nose. His perfect composure was gone—his hair disheveled, his face red with rage and shame.
"I'll kill him!" he snarled. "I'll kill David Martinez!"
"Yeah!" one of the goons echoed. "Tell your dad! One call and that gutter trash disappears! You could—"
SMACK!
The slap echoed off the walls.
Katsuo's eyes burned. "You idiot! You think I can tell my father I got beaten using the latest Kwei-Arm system? That I embarrassed the family name? He'd flay me alive!"
He turned away, fists trembling.
"No… this isn't over." His tone was low. "I don't need my family. I'll handle him myself."
A cruel smile twisted across his blood-streaked face.
"I'll plan it. I'll make him regret ever touching me. And when it's done…"
He looked up, eyes gleaming with pure hatred.
"…I'll make him beg for death."