Max walked through Night City with his hands buried deep in his pockets, shoulders hunched against the neon-lit drizzle. The city was alive in the way only Night City could be — holograms flickering overhead, ads whispering promises of chrome perfection, sirens crying somewhere in the distance like a lullaby for the desperate. Normally it was overwhelming. Tonight it just felt hollow.
He'd been reincarnated into this world to replace David Martinez. That alone should've been insane enough to process. But what really twisted the knife was how one of his wishes had backfired.
He wanted to save Gloria.
And technically… he did.
The accident still happened. The wreck still tore through the street like a bomb going off. Metal screamed, glass shattered, people died. Gloria was supposed to be one of them. Instead, she survived — broken ribs, internal bleeding, a dozen fractures — but alive. Doctors said she'd be out of the hospital in a few days. A miracle, they called it.
Max called it a cruel compromise.
Because the Sandevistan had been destroyed in the wreck.
No booster. No edge. No power. Just a broke kid in a city that chewed up the powerless and spat them into gutters.
He didn't even have the eddies to buy low-grade chrome. His memories were scrambled from the reincarnation — the other wishes he'd made were a blank, like someone had taken a blade and carved them out of his mind. Every time he tried to remember, his head throbbed.
"Damn… what am I supposed to do now?" he muttered to himself as he trudged toward the apartment. "Thrown into this mess and I got nothing."
The hallway outside the apartment smelled like cheap synth-noodles and burnt wiring. The door slid open with a reluctant hiss. Sitting right in front of it was a small package.
Max froze.
Packages didn't last long in this building. If it wasn't nailed down, it got stolen. If it was nailed down, someone stole the nails.
Yet here it was, untouched.
"Huh… what's in here?" he murmured, crouching.
Inside was a single chip.
No branding. No markings. Just a matte-black shard that swallowed the hallway light instead of reflecting it.
"I don't remember ordering this," Max said under his breath. He turned it over in his fingers, uneasy, then slipped it into his pocket. Night City ran on bad decisions. One more wouldn't matter.
He forced the apartment door open — the lock was still busted from the accident — and went straight to the hiding spot Gloria used. A loose panel in the floor. He pried it up and found the stash. Not much. Barely enough to cover hospital bills. His chest tightened as he transferred the funds.
"That's it," he whispered. "That's all we got."
His gaze drifted back to the chip in his hand.
"What are the odds this thing's loaded with eddies…" he muttered. "First time slotting a mystery shard. I know you're supposed to be careful with this crap… but screw it."
He slotted the chip.
A cold spike ran up his spine.
Instead of credits, coordinates flooded his vision — a location on the far edge of the city. Alongside it scrolled lines of code he couldn't decipher, symbols layered over symbols like a language meant for machines, not people.
He tried to eject the chip.
Nothing happened.
"…You've gotta be kidding me."
He laughed under his breath, a dry, tired sound. "Well. Got nothing better to do. Would be wild if this led to some jackpot stash of chrome."
Hours later, after hitching rides and cutting through dead zones where the city lights couldn't reach, he found it: a wrecked industrial district swallowed by rubble. The coordinates pulsed in his vision, guiding him to a black shipping container half-buried in debris.
"No fucking way…"
He stepped closer.
The container doors slid open on their own with a hydraulic sigh.
"…What the hell…"
Inside was a hidden facility. Clean. Sterile. Untouched by the decay outside. At the far end stood a massive pod surrounded by cybernetics he'd never seen before — sleek, obsidian hardware with lines that seemed to ripple when you stared too long.
A screen flickered to life.
"Greetings, Agent 097. Ready to suit up?"
Max's heart pounded. "Agent? What is this place?"
"This is Equipment Hanger 002," the computer replied calmly. "Designed to equip you with necessary cybernetics."
"I've never seen chrome like this. What can I even use?"
A camera descended and scanned him. Data exploded across the display.
"You can equip all Black Class cybernetics with a seventy-six percent probability of immediate cyberpsychosis upon full activation."
"Seventy-six percent? Yeah, hard pass. What won't fry my brain?"
A pause.
"Correction: you may equip all Black Class cybernetics. I have synthesized an experimental Nero Blocker. Injection within six seconds of activation will permanently negate cyberpsychosis."
Max stared.
"You're telling me you built a cure?"
"Yes. Three doses exist. Replication is statistically impossible. You may distribute remaining doses at your discretion."
His mind spun. A cure like that would be worth more than Arasaka Tower. He looked back at the gear lining the walls: optics, reinforced skeleton, arm systems… and a sealed black case pulsing faintly.
"What's the Black Series?" he asked quietly.
"They are hybrid technologies derived from Militech, Arasaka, and research beyond the Blackwall. Central to the system is the Black King Key — an ancient AI. It will remain subordinate to its host."
"Beyond the Blackwall…" Max whispered.
That was suicide-level tech.
He swallowed. "What do I do?"
A slot opened in the console.
"Insert chip. Biometrics will be installed."
The shard unlocked in his hand.
He inserted it.
The pod opened with a hiss. Surgical arms unfolded. He climbed in. Straps locked him down before he could second-guess himself. A needle pierced the base of his skull.
Darkness.
Pain dragged him back.
Every nerve in his body screamed. It felt like molten metal was flowing through his veins.
"You have four seconds before activation," the computer said. "Injection is on the table. Six seconds to administer."
The pod opened.
The cybernetics ignited.
Reality fractured. His thoughts multiplied, racing faster than he could contain. Voices whispered at the edge of his mind. His vision warped.
He grabbed the injector and slammed it into his neck.
Silence.
The storm in his head collapsed into clarity.
"You have clothing on the table. Equipment Hanger 002 will self-destruct in fifteen minutes. Access keys to Hangers 001 through 004 installed. Purging data."
Max staggered to his feet. His reflection in a polished panel barely looked human — sculpted muscle, flawless skin, chrome hidden beneath flesh. The Sandevistan spine glowed faintly along his back. The deep-dive port rested at the base of his skull.
Knowledge poured into him instinctively. He knew how to use everything. Every system felt like an extension of his body.
He dressed quickly, shrugging into a black leather coat. His bank account pinged: 10,000 eddies.
"Okay… that helps."
He flexed his hand. "Let's test it. Black Speed Quantum Tunnel… don't fail me."
He activated it.
The world didn't blur.
It vanished.
Sound died. Light froze. Rain hung motionless in the air. Max stepped forward and the city stood still around him like a paused video.
He laughed, breathless.
"Oh… this is gonna change everything."