CAST AND CREW Writing and Design by , James Hutt, Cody Pondsmith, Jay Parker, J Gray, David Ackerman, and Jaye Kovach Based on Material Originally Created by David Ackerman, Matt Anacleto, Mike Blum, Edward Bolme, Colin Fisk, Dave Friedland, Bruce Harlick, Scott Hedrick, Michael LaBossiere, Mike MacDonald, Will Moss, Lisa Pondsmith, Mike Pondsmith, Derek Quintanar, Mike Roter, Scott Ruggels, Craig Sheeley, Mark Schumann, Ross Winn, Benjamin Wright, and the many writers who worked on the line in the past. Beat Chart Concepts Contributed by Flint Dille Lyrics for Black Dog and Never Fade Away by David Sandström and Dennis Lyxzén Business Management by Lisa Pondsmith Project Management by Cody Pondsmith and Mike Pondsmith Art Direction by Jaye Kovach Cover Illustration by Anselm Zielonka Interior Illustration and Graphics by Doug Anderson, Bad Moon Art Studio, Richard Bagnall, Santiago Betancur, Neil Branquinho, Alexander Dudar, Colin Fisk, Matthew S. Francella, Hélio Frazão, Huntang, J Gray, Maksym Harahulin, DariusK, Jaye Kovach, Bernard Kowalczuk, Adrian Marc, Jan Marek, Eddie Mendoza, Pedram Mohammadi, Alan Okamoto, Anna Podedworna, Sebastian Szmyd, Eve Ventrue, 望瑾 Jin Wang, Wavefront, and Anselm Zielonka Editing by Carol Darnell, Michael Matheson, Josh Vogt, and Dixie Cochran Layout and Page Design by J Gray, Irrgardless, and Adam Jury Product Consultation by Aron Tarbuck Playtesting and Beta Reading by James "ELH" Adams, Azalah, Jared Doyle Barnes, Ben, Gabriel Boleau, Naomi Calhoun, Matt "Sir Fluffles" Carroll, Kevin Diehl, Linda "Druttercup" Evans, James Fullerton, Allen Hawkins, Matthew House, Jay Jasti, Paul Khalifé, The MadQueen, Ashley Mayo, Leon "Leothedino" Mendez, Dan "F00d4Th0ught" Richardson, Ryan "Boss_Angler" St. John, Gavin "Fishy" Steele, Joseph Torres, Jason Rand, Jillian Wagner, Eddy Webb, and Worthington Special Thanks to Radek Adam Grabowski, Marcin Iwiński, Amelia Kołat, Hollie Bennett, Sam Liu, Patrick Mills, MichałSample Platkow-Gilewski, Walter Jon Williams, and the entire crew at CD Projekt file Red. CR3001•ISBN 978-1-950911-06-6•First Printing Copyright © 2020 by R. Talsorian Games, Inc., Cyberpunk is a registered trademark of CD Projekt Red S.A. All rights reserved under the Universal Copyrights Convention. All situations, governments, and people herein are fictional. Any similarities portrayed herein without satiric intent are strictly coincidental.

Lyrics for Black Dog and Never Fade Away © 2020 by CD Prokekt S.A. Images on pages 26 and 284 © 2020 by CD Prokekt S.A. contents Never Fade Away...... 5 Trauma Team...... 223 Street Drugs...... 227 View from the Edge...... 17 Therapy and You...... 229 A Tabletop RPG Primer...... 22 Cyberpsychosis...... 230 Streetslang...... 24 Welcome to the Dark Future...... 233 Soul and the New Machine...... 27 The Fall of America...... 234 Roles...... 29 Dark Future Countdown...... 236 The Three Methods of Making a Character...... 40 Before the Red...... 242 Tales from The Street...... 43 The 4th Corp War...... 251 Fitted for the Future...... 71 The Time of the Red...... 257 The Aftermath...... 258 What are Statistics?...... 72 The U.S. in the Time of the Red...... 258 Skills...... 81 The World Beyond...... 260 Weapons and Armor...... 91 The Neocorps...... 264 Your Outfit...... 99 Corporate Profiles...... 267 Putting the Cyber into the Punk...... 107 Cyberpsychosis...... 108 Welcome to Night City...... 283 A Bit of Night City History...... 284 Cyberware...... 110 Night City in 2020...... 288 The Fall of the Towers...... 121 Night City, Happy at Last?...... 291 Night City in the Time of the Red...... 295 Getting it Done...... 125 Particulars...... 300 Getting the Scene Down...... 126 People of Night City...... 304 Resolving Actions with Skills...... 128 Gangs of Night City...... 308 Skill List...... 130 Key Places in and Around Night City...... 310 Role Abilities...... 142 Multiclassing Roles...... 143 Everyday Life...... 315 Staying out of Trouble...... 316 Friday Night Firefight...... 167 How You Stay in Touch...... 319 In Combat Time...... 168 What You're Packing...... 321 Actions...... 168 How You Get Around...... 322 Ranged Combat...... 170 How You Get the Word...... 326 Melee Combat...... 175 What You Wear...... 327 Other Ways to Get Hurt...... 180 What You Eat...... 328 Before You Take Damage...... 182 How You Have Fun...... 329 When Armor Doesn't Cut It...... 186 Where You Get Stuff...... 331 Vehicle Combat...... 189 Reputation...... 193 The New Street Economy...... 333 Night Markets...... 337 Netrunning...... 195 Night Market Appendix...... 340 Doing Things in the NET...... 197 Making a Living in a Cyberpunk World...... 381 Net Combat...... 201 Programs...... 201 Running Cyberpunk...... 387 Miscellaneous Upgrades...... 208 Beat Charts...... 395 Cyberdeck Hardware...... 208 Getting Better...... 408 Doing a Netrun...... 209 Mooks and Grunts...... 412 SampleBuilding a NET Architecture...... 209 Encounters in the Red...... file417 Trauma Team...... 219 Screamsheets...... 425 Wound States and Critical Injuries...... 220 Stabilization and Healing...... 222 Black Dog...... 435

3 AND NOW, A Word From The Management So, it's 2013, and I have a problem…

See, we've all been cruising the mean streets of Night City since 1984. We've fought the Megacorps to a standstill, cybered ourselves to the very limit of psychosis, and have even climbed to the heights of the Arasaka Towers to pimp smack old Saburo upside his bald head. This is one of the problems all designers who work within a self-created world face: terminal stagnation. Your players have done everything, fought everything, and seen everything you can offer in the original iteration of your world, and there's not much left to do. In Cyberpunk, my solution has always been to treat the entire world like a giant comic book, divided up into roughly ten-year story arcs. The Cyberpunk world goes to hell beginning in 1993, starting with the invention of modern cyber- ware and the attack on the World Trade Center in New York by Colombian narco-terrorists. We start the main Cyberpunk story (what I call the Never Fade Away Arc) ten years later in 2013 with the culmination being Johnny Silverhand's invasion of the Arasaka Tower in an attempt to rescue his girlfriend, Alt Cunningham. Ten more years pass and then begins the Cyberpunk 2020 Arc (which I call the Fall of the Towers Arc… starting to see a pattern here, what with me destroying big buildings all the time?) by the end of which the Cyberpunk world is totally disrupted in 2023. Working in story arcs is useful. It allows you to keep the main world operational while creating new storylines and introducing new characters. You get to build on what is already there and familiar. But by the end of the 2020 Arc, I had two big problems. First, it wasn't going to be enough simply to start a new storyline. I had to deal with the fact that much of the existing world had been mined out and needed a reset. And second, I'd acquired some partners. See, about the same time I started writing what would one day become this book, a bunch of guys in Poland—you probably know them as CD Projekt Red, creators of the wildly popular Witcher video games—showed up on my metaphorical doorstep and said, "Hey, wanna make a Cyberpunk videogame?" I looked them over and, assured that they were more than three guys in a basement with some old Apple 2's and a goat, agreed that this would be a cool idea. But that also meant that, besides doing a bit of a reset, I had to preserve what made Cyberpunk Cyberpunk, while at the same time moving the timeline forward and clearing out the deadwood. I also had to make the new version fit not just a tabletop roleplaying game but a AAA videogame title too. The result is the game you're holding in your hands. Cyberpunk RED doesn't wreck the world. But it resets many of the elements of that world without having to make it unrecognizable. The product of literally hundreds of hours of real-world research and planning, RED gives us a new arc where almost all the elements of the Cyberpunk we all love are still present, but in new forms and with some fun new twists. The mean streets of Night City are still there, but there are lots of new Players and new challenges walking the shadows. In addition, RED allows us to create something unparalleled in gaming history—a tabletop RPG that serves as the perfect onramp for the expanded and far future of the arc. With threads looping forwards and back through the timeline, my partners at CDPR (Patrick, Adam, Marcin, Amelia—let's face it, the whole damned 600+ crew at the CD studio) and our crew at R. Talsorian Games have given you a deep, complex gaming experience you can explore on both the tabletop and the video screen. I didn't do this by myself either. I have to give all credit to the amazing crew here at R. Talsorian Games, James, Cody, J, Jaye, Jay, Lisa, David, and a host of other contributors who have made this thing work. We all think the result of all our hard work is a thing of beauty, and we hope you will too. SampleBecause we want you to join us in the Time of the Red and make it yourfile time too. ­­— Mike Pondsmith the guy who killed your cyberpunk character

4 BY HUNTANG

Never Fade Away 2013 (32 Years Ago)

He's coming out of the Hammer, about midnight, and he sees them. Three punks, mohawksSample bright and bristly with reflected neon, wearing high-collaredfile jackets; gang colors.

5 NEVER FADE AWAY

"Yo! !" one of them yells, "Good show! He stares blankly up at the flat black ceiling of the Good noise!" Johnny Silverhand waves absently. city. Overhead, there's the shimmer of distant heat Fans. They're right; the gig was good. He'd rarely lightning interacting with the pink actinic glow of the been better. But the show's over. City lights. The stars look painted in. A VTOL passes overhead, giant propblades thrashing the night. They start walking towards him. One waves a Johnny tries reaching up to it. He can see the Hand bottle; the light strikes oily yellow tequila sloshing to etched against the sky; slick, superchrome winking and fro. "Yo, Silver-rocker!" he says. The smaller one, back at him. He balls the Hand that is his trademark with the face scarred in African tribal tattoos. "Join into a chromed fist, servos clicking in one by one. us! Share some! Fair price for a good gig, eh?" The He thrusts it into the gaping belly wound, gasping distance is closing, Johnny steers Alt, his girlfriend, at the shocking pain. Somehow, he gets to his feet; to his bad side. The one without the Hand. "Hey, staggers to the alleyway. He leans his feverish face Icebrothers," he says, noting the gang's colors and against the cool, wet bricks. He makes a decision. speaking in a temporizing tone. "Your offer's solid, He's not going to die. They're going to die. Closing but it's been a long gig. I'm nearly flatlined as it is. his eyes, he pitches forward into the streak of passing How 'bout a replay, next night?" By that time, they're traffic blur. almost on him. He lets the 9mm Federated Arms X-9 drop from the spring holster, settling into the Hand. Something stops him. Hands firmly grapple him, Probably nothing, he thinks. holding him up. Silverhand has just enough strength to open his eyes. There's a face looking intently at him, ''Yeah. Replay next night," the big one says enthu- thin, bearded. "Lord Almighty," the face says. "They siastically, and that's when they hit him. This fast, really did you, didn't they?" they're a blur. The X-9 booms in the close confines of the alley; whines as spent rounds ricochet off into Fade to black. nowhere. There is a metallic "snick" as the smaller punk brings up his arm—light reflects off the fistful of rauma Ward razors that pretends to be a hand; then an excruciating impact lifts Johnny off the ground. Blood sprays over T wet concrete. Silverhand hits with a bone wrenching Something is screaming when Johnny wakes up. Fine. impact. His pale eyes stare blankly at the sky. Alt's Just as long as it isn't him. He must have missed the terrified screams recede swiftly into the dark. Sixty to ambulance ride to the hospital, but here in the trauma zero in eight seconds flat. ward he can hear the sound of jet engines. That's the screaming. It mounts higher and higher, while the ward • • • fills with warm air and the smell of ozone. From his Johnny comes to. There's something like broken glass stretcher, he can see the bulky AV-4 vehicle spin on in his guts. Red fire blots out the cool blue neon. He rolls its fans and hurtle upwards. The din dies down and he can hear screaming for real all around him; casualties over in a pool of something greasy. Blood. of the regular firefights around the City. His. The doctor puts him back together. The same doctor A cat topples off the dumpster, picking a cautious who did his transparent Kiroshi eyes; his trademark pattern around his body. No fool, this cat. A survivor. silver hand. The same doctor who "plugged" him for Not going to get involved. Its eyes are tiny red LEDs interface and installed the software chips in the back moving upalley; Johnny watches it. Smug bastard, he of his skull. Johnny considers taking out a service thinks. And closes his eyes. contract. Behind his eyelids, red digitals feebly clock out his Microsurgical waldos cut through the perforated Sampleremaining moments. Bio-clock running down. Cars guts, swabbing, tying off, prepping.file The doctor whispering past on the filthy, rain-wet street beyond. stitches in three feet of glistening wet, tank-grown A Trauma Team ambulance in the distance, siren intestine; plugs the punch holes with synthetic screaming. But not for him. He's checking out. skin and muscle. Airhypos inject the area with 6 minicam mount straddles his head like over-sized an his head straddles mount minicam a hardware. But visible no packs He large. too sizes three trenchcoat armorjack an wearing type, reedy alifetime. in son one than more lose should man ago. years No war eight inter-Corporate an in killed son was first His friend. best Johnny'sson was first His him. to son sadly. is a second doctor Silverhand the dorphs and "Johnny,"the general anesthetics. says doctor. the says up?" give this to going eyes. "Johnny... multifaceted are you When insect's an like glitter lamps sterilizer the his head, Over works. "Ach... Johnny… Johnny," over over and says, as he he accent. aGerman has He times. athousand this done newtech. for it hear even ascar. be Let's won't there two, or a month In original. well as the asalmost together flesh bonding a mini-closer, of teeth serrated the hum off stitches Microscopic rials. antibacte and endorphins fasthealers, speeddrugs, His alleyway benefactor is named benefactor His Thompson; alleyway a thin, Thanks ends it When hassure. and are He quick hands doctor's The SampleBY ADRIAN MARC file , thinks Johnny., thinks , thinks Silverhand, from the fog of fog the from Silverhand, , thinks I owe you again. one, - T tered bedroom dresser, and load weight. the checking his bat of out autoshotgun the pulls He his shoulders. over jacket armor an pulls He Japanese. in curses He bandages. wound; the on up hangs stapled freshly over drags the shirt The Samurai. band, his last of logo the has shirt The T-shirt. ared on pulls Johnny Silverhand recovers beams. sterilizer under the "Hey,line. Rocker," as over table the leaning says, he and reporter, direct to feeding down Mediacorp some cameraman of team He's aone-man aMedia; optic. cyber bright-green a into startlingly and hardwiring his skull of side right around the coming itself camera the his mouth, of a mike front in headphone; loops "Tell me." eyes. "So," pale says. he glittering behind is afury holster. his back There into it slides and Handcannon S&W heavy the up picks jacket. He the of outside the on pockets into shuriken stuffs jacket. He the under slipsHe it carefully into worn the under-arm holster, "Ready for a little vengeance?""Ready for a little he Naming of Names NEVER FADE AWAY FADE NEVER - - - 7 NEVER FADE AWAY

Thompson leans back into the wall, body bracing "Good news/bad news," says Thompson. He's unlim- against Johnny's intensity. He grins; takes a slug of bered the cybercam unit from around his head and set it Silverhand's tequila. "They didn't want you. They down on the table between them—the only indication of wanted her. She's an extraction. Business as usual." hardware is the silvermounted skull plug drilled through his right temple. The cam's cellular link through the NET Johnny's eyes are blank. "No surprise", he comments is off. Thompson says, "Good news is, it isn't one of the shortly. He gathers up a ragged handful of shells and really big guys, like Eurobusiness Machines." begins to stuff-load the S&W's spare clip. Only the trembling of his hand—the meat hand–betrays any "Fair enough," says Silverhand, taking another swig emotion. "So, why'd they do me?" he asks. from the bottle. "You was home," grins Thompson. It's an old line. "Bad news is, it's Arasaka." They both smile like friendly sharks. Thompson stops "Jesus H. Christ!" explodes Johnny. The Hand, smiling. "They wanted you flatlined, so it'd look like resting on the edge of the table, convulses. There's a a gang job. Boostergang sees the high and mighty rending noise and splinters fly in all directions. Mister John Silverhand out strolling with his input; decides to slash him a bit. You go down, they grab "Your input was playing with hotdeck materials, her; they're gone like vapor. Real convenient when Rocker. You know she ran for ITS, right?" the cops find her body in an alley 'bout a week later. "Yeah. So, you gotta work somewhere. Alt didn't They'll have motives—lots of ugly motives, but they'll talk much about her work." be those of high-powered boosters, not pros." "True. But your Alt was ITS's pet . She "Pros." Silverhand finishes loading the second moved info up and down the NET and handled their clip. He stuffs the remaining shells in the armorjack's security as well. She made a lot of classy software pockets. You can never have enough ammo. just for them." Long pause. "She built Soulkiller, you "Yeah, pros," repeats Thompson. "You got shredded know. Or maybe you didn't. Like you said, she didn't for fine, bro. At least a clean ten thousand Eurobucks talk much about her work." of hardware on those boys. The speed they hit you Johnny sits back on the couch, the bottle halfway to with took maybe a seventy percent reflex boost, and his lips. Even the normally disconnected Silverhand those were custom rippers. The type that fold out has heard of Soulkiller, the legendary black program along the fists. That sort of hardware isn't something that sucks the very soul from its Netrunner victims. you pick up on The Street." Soulkiller. What a joke. Soulkiller is a memory "You saw them on me?" intensive AI superroutine that can track an intruding Netrunner's cyberlink faster than a boostergang snorts Thompson's eyes are cold, slate-like. You could drugs. It tears out the cyberpirate's brain with brutal write anything you wanted in them. "Get real," he force, recreating it in a frozen storage matrix inside the grates. "These were pros. If I'd jumped in, we'd both mainframe. The word is on The Street that Soulkiller be dead." The eyes appraise him. "You've been off may be the closest thing to Hell on Earth, and these The Street too long, Rocker. You think everyone has a days, that's saying a lot. nice agent, a couple Solos covering their butts, and a comfy apartment like this somewhere. I let you take it, And Alt made that? Johnny bites down a momentary because I knew it would take at least five minutes for wave of revulsion, superimposed over Alt's big green you to bleed yourself dry. I waited for them to move eyes, her tousled mane of hair. "No wonder she didn't on, then used my Trauma Card." There is a longish talk about her work," he says finally. silence. Then, "Look, Rocker. You want to guilt-loop, "I was following her, Rocker," says Thompson. or you want to get your girl back?" Sample"Word's out that Arasaka is workingfile on its own version "So, name names," says Johnny. He sits down on the of Soulkiller. Something that can walk the NET freely, edge of the bed, favoring his stapled side. He reaches getting up close and personal with people Arasaka out for the tequila and takes a slug. doesn't like." 8 NEVER FADE AWAY

"A black-program assassin for a security company?" 'Runners looking to trade information. Fixers with guns, Johnny is up and pacing now. He knows where this is armor, and smuggling jobs. But the place has bad mem- going, and he doesn't like it. ories. She only comes here because Santiago insists on it. "You don't let personal caca get in the way of "You probably believe in Santa Claus too," says business," he says. A lot he knows. Thompson, reclaiming the dregs of the bottle. "Your Alt is the missing link. I figured they'd have to recruit Her back is to the wall of the booth—her mirror- her sooner or later, whether free or forced. Soulkiller's shaded eyes scan the room like monitor cameras. main programming is buried in her head somewhere. What she can't see is covered by her partner, So, I followed her." Santiago, from the opposite side of the booth. His "Thanks for the concern.'' burly shoulders bulk the heavy armor jacket—he looks like a scowling mountain. He's not her type. But "You don't get it, Rockerboy. I want Arasaka. I want he wants her. Somehow, they've managed to work them bad. I'll put anyone and anything on the line to this out—the way they worked out a combat style; get them. Even myself—if I have to broadcast this story the division of spoils. But he keeps hoping. Stupid from the grave, I'll do it. They're mine. You get in my Nomad. way, you're flatlined. You go with me… " Thompson lets it trail out. Then she finds herself facing what she's dreaded for the last two years; the reason she hates this crummy Johnny stops pacing. The room goes still. Only the bar; hates this crummy town. Johnny Silverhand walks Hand moves, like something alive; silver metal joints into the Atlantis. clicking, takeup reels whirring, tiny pistons shooting in and out in simulation of a pulse. The Hand turns He still has the moves, she thinks, as he strides Johnny to face the media man. It makes him say, "How through the big brass doors. Head held high, a cocky long do we have?" light in his pale glass eyes. After all this time, Rogue still can't decide whether she wants him, or just wants Thompson smiles lopsidedly. "How long will it take to kill him. He looks like he owns the place as he your input to rewrite Soulkiller? A day? Two?" crosses the room towards her; a comment to an old "Yeah." Johnny turns, scoops up the keys to the friend here, smiling at a fan there, a narrowed glance Porsche. "You chipped for a smartgun?" he says. at a potential troublemaker; then he's standing in Thompson reaches down to his feet; draws up a long front of her. "Rogue," he says, like nothing'd ever black, nylon bag. "FN-RAL assault," he says, standing happened. "I need your help, Rogue." His voice is up. "I was in the War. I like lead. Lots of lead." urgent, magnetic. "You can go to hell," she replies levelly. On the other Rain runs down the front of the speeder. A wall of side of the booth, there's a faint sound as Santiago Corporate glass and steel looms to either side as they slides one hand over the Minami 10 in his lap. pull out into the down-town traffic. The Porsche whis- tles slightly in the chill air, its CHOOH2 power plant Johnny leans closer. "Look," he says, "I'm sorry. I throwing it against the City night. "So where are we know how you feel. And l wouldn't do this if I had going, Rocker?" says Thompson. any other choice." He pulls up a chair and straddles Johnny grits his teeth. "I've got a marker I have to it, staring at her. "Tough," she shoots back acidly. pull in," he says. She hopes her voice sounds steadier than she feels. "You owe me one," he says, his voice taking an ogue and Santiago edge. "For Chicago. You owe me one at least. And RSampleit's not like I won't pay you. I've gotfile euro." Rogue hates the Atlantis. But she goes there because the "How much?" interjects Santiago. Johnny turns to contacts are good, and the pickings easy. Corporates face him. "Word on The Street is you're pulling five looking for a fast freelance assassination. Medias and grand a night. I'll match and double it." 9 BY NEIL BRANQUINHO Santiagorolls, hitting by the Over thebar, floor. "Done," says Johnny. He reaching is out across the says Johnny. "Done," says, the shadow bigger Silverhand," Mister "Ah, reacts,Rogue her chipped reflexes kicking into through the chest of a Corp sitting on the other side otherof hand the fires thin Rogue's the wall. silenced ripping the the smaller table, under from Automag Solo in half. three figures armorjackets in weapons stand up, hammers short a 10 Minami hand. Santiago's in burst. The figures go flat; one staggers back into the window and falls through in shattering a sound like table to match grips with the big Nomad when one long shadow the falls table, over then another. leaning close. Johnny can see red LED light scrolling behind optics, his forming crosshairs as he brings the smartgun up. Heroverdrive. handblur a is as it stabs up off the table, the bunched knuckles smashingthe Solo's noseback into dead face. his before He's he hits the but spasmedfloor, muscles tighten on the trigger of the big Malorian. a deafening There's in a BOOM! very small space, but Johnny's boosted reflexes have a scream There's as already thrown him up and over. the slug rips through the back of the booth and blows ­— he's got credit;­he's

—it's Arasaka." A long pause, "I'll—it's Arasaka." understand get in the When of way business." Johnny pulled

Sample file "Done." Santiago grins and raises you the stakes. "And Sample "Two daysmax. "Two I need an extraction. And I won't On The Street, their narrow. Santiago's eyes team Santiago's eyes grinSantiago's eyes in dark his face. He scratches

became business. come with us," he finishes.come her withFrom side of us," the booth, smolder eyes at object, her partner. Rogue's She'd but the rule of the don't game let is, personal "You caca out wallet, his as far as Santiago concerned, was it Silverhand a bastard. is Santiagogrins. He can take this punk with one hand behind back. his "It's going to thirtycost you thou, Rocker." is knownis as the best. Who does this choob think Thenhe is? the Nomad being realizes baited. he's Silverhand's already figured the score between the twopartners. If Santiago backs onup this, it'll be all If he The goes Street withover tomorrow. it, Rogue's right Rogue's going to have to back play. his that pulls weight in Santiago's world. "How long?" ­­ haze you thinkif you it's too much for you." his bristlyhis chin with free his hand. Hispartner has a real a Face— But he's mad on about this guy.

NEVER FADEAWAY 10 NEVER FADE AWAY a hundred dropped chandeliers. Thompson brings close to his body; his nerves are tingling with booster up the FN-RAL with studied nonchalance, covering effects; he's running like he's on speed. Alleyways the two remaining, prone figures. "Gotcha," he says. streak by as blurs—he compensates his time sense. Rogue is covering the rear, and he can hear her Johnny hits the bar floor; gun high, and eyes scan- breathing behind him. He says over his shoulder to ning the corners. Patrons keep their hands away from the breathing dark shadow, "I'm sorry, Rache." weapons—everyone plays cool. The disemboweled Solo on the floor whimpers. Back-to-back, the four of Her voice is flat, "Never call me that," she says, them edge out of the bar. "Never again." He keeps running. "Okay," he says finally, "fair enough." unaway She stops running. She says, "Why Johnny? Why R now? Couldn't you have gotten anyone else?" She "We are seriously tagged," gasps Rogue as they hit can hear him slow ahead of her. He says, "I needed the sidewalk. the best. And you're still the best, Rogue." "They must have tracked my Trauma Card," grunts The best. Damn him. Thompson. "Guess they wanted to finish the job. You know some nice people, Rocker." lt They reach the Porsche just in time to see the shadow of an unmarked AV-4 sweep over it. A Garbage, oil, and filthy water explode into steam She wakes with her mouth full of cotton wool. She's as the jet exhausts hit the pavement. Rogue is already smart enough to keep her eyes closed; to stifle any down, drawing a bead on the cockpit with her .44. urge to scream. Boosterboys like it when you scream. Above her head, Santiago's Minami 10 roars in They like it so much, they'll do anything to make you deafening staccato. The tiny red spot of her laser scream over and over again. scope pinpoints the AV-4 pilot's forehead, even as Alt silently triggers commands to redline her senses she sees the minigun sweep around towards them. to maximum. She's relieved to find herself still clothed She's not going to make it. The canopy's got to be and relatively unharmed. Not typical booster, but armored. She doesn't even have time to watch her she won't complain. Her enhanced hearing picks up life flash before her eyes. breathing nearby; the click of glasses and ice, com- Then the laser dot is eclipsed by a screaming puter terminals. Definitely not boosters. Alt takes a WHHHHHOOOOMMMMPPP! as something slams chance and opens her eyes, spits out the gag. into the AV-4. The entire canopy—the entire front of A slender, Asian-looking man is watching her. Neat, the aircraft—bells out in a horrible slow-mo inferno—a well-tailored suit. A glass of real Scotch in one hand, which rancid smell of hot metal, melted plastic, and seared he offers towards her. "Welcome, Ms. Cunningham", he flesh gusts against her as the AV tilts to one side says, his mouth smiling and his eyes frozen. "I am Toshiro." and drunkenly impacts the street. A fireball shatters He gestures towards another man; a hulking presence the night. "Love those grenade launchers," smirks lounging by the bar. "This is Akira", he says. Thompson, lowering his steaming FN-RAL. Alt sits up slowly, cautiously, her boosted senses "We gotta get out of here," grits Johnny from behind giving her clues. The comforting weight of her plastic a parked car. Rogue looks into his eyes—she can see autogun is missing. But she still has her cybered arm. the faint red etching of a targeting pattern flickering "Can I get a drink of that?" she says, gesturing towards in their pale depths. "Right," she says, already up and the glass in Toshiro's hand. "Certainly" he says. A moving. Her breath catches ragged in her throat as gesture to Akira, and the hulk turns obediently to mix they run back into the shadows. Samplea drink. Alt is surprised at the gracefile of the big man's Santiago takes point; he knows all the best boltholes hands. He moves like an athlete. He moves like a in the area. Thompson is next, the big FN-RAL sweep- professional killer. Akira brings her the drink, and Alt ing their way like a flashlight. Johnny keeps his S&W doesn't even think about making a break for it. 11