Cyberpunk Edgerunners Mission Kit Solo Log – Part 5 (Plus Megabuilding Encounters)

Building Bash

(Lost?  Rewind to Part 1)

 

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It was about two days days after the incident in Northside before the edgerunner crew spoke to each other again.  They went through the motions: repairing gear, getting much-needed rest, and tending to themselves in the ways that suited them best.¹

Maven was the first to make contact: “Chooms, I got another ping; megabuilding in Arroyo.  It’s showed up a couple of times hasn’t moved from the area.  You guys wanna meet at the Afterlife first?”

"Yeah, I’ll catch you all there,"  Thorn said.  Hardpoint’s face nodded in agreement from her own box on Maven’s holo: “See you there.”

***

Hardpoint and Maven arrived first, but the doors to the merc bar were still closed to them.²  The two grabbed drinks from the vending machines outside while they waited for Thorn.  

The rockerboy turned up fashionably late, but not alone.  Accompanying him was a woman with olive skin and short, dark hair, dressed in vintage-style, military chic, including a canvas sling bag with a stenciled, red cross.

“We bringing our significant others now?  She doesn’t look like your type.”  Maven had developed a little edge since Northside, but her eyes widened - well, one did while the other adjusted its focus when she recognized the new person’s striking, hazel ones.  Hardpoint recognized them too: “That’s not Thorn’s new mainline.  Back at the self-storage; the REO gonks.  The one Wrench let go."  The solo’s hand started to reach for her sidearm until she realized where they were.³   The hustle, not to mention every ‘runner in the place, would ice them in minutes if they were gonk enough to start anything.  The Afterlife was neutral ground, and highly enforced.

The woman frowned.  Thorn laughed nervously and glanced at her while rubbing the back of his head, then back at Maven and Hardpoint.  It was funny how different he was when not under the influence of booze, Hardpoint thought.  It seems the wild rockerboy was put back in his cage.

“Hehe…it’s not like that,”  the rockerboy said.  “Remember that bar I went to in the Badlands the other night?  I ran into her.  We had a good talk over drinks.  Err…she did the talking, I did the drinking.  Turns out, she knew Wrench.  Well, actually, Wrench’s people.  She spent some time with them before working for REO.”   

The woman nodded and spoke: “That’s right.  I was not with Meatwagon for long, but I needed stable work in the city.  I knew something was off when my team leader went to talk to a man in a leather coat while we were getting coffee.  Our lead then made us turn off our radio and drive to that self-storage place.  That’s how we…err…met.  I quit Meatwagon after that and took some downtime outside the city as a precaution.  I recognized your friend when he went to see a ripperdoc I was assisting,⁴ but I hung back.  I was not sure how he would react if he saw me; probably go for his iron just like you were just about to do.”  She looked at Hardpoint, who raised an eyebrow with something like grudging respect for the woman’s attention to detail.  Hardpoint had also noticed the woman carried a submachine gun concealed between her medical bag and jacket from the moment she came into view.

“Thorn told me you lost your friend.  I’m sorry about that, truly.  I didn’t know him, but I know the Aldecaldos.  They’re good and honorable people, and your friend let me go when he could have just flatlined me.   I think I owe him for that.  You know what I can do, and I’d like to help you, especially if things go sideways, God forbid.  You can consider me your personal insurance policy.” 

Thorn addressed the edgerunners: “What do you think?  Hardpoint considered the medtech for a moment and nodded.  Her mind had already been made up earlier.  Maven brightened, despite her mood: “What do we call you?” 

“I hadn’t thought about it, honestly," the medtech said.  "I know most of you don’t use your real names.  I don’t really care.  I’m...” 

“Insurance!”  Thorn interrupted her with a smile.  “Welcome to the crew!”  

Insurance smiled back and nodded.⁵

***

Thorn had another reason for being late to the crew’s meeting at the Afterlife.  In addition to bringing Insurance, he did a little legwork.  He found out through his music scene contacts that there was a secret party happening on the roof of Megabuilding H4 that evening.  He was sure that Dalton would be there, since according to Maven, the ping in the area never really stopped.  Hardpoint wasn’t as skilled a driver as Wrench, but they made it to Arroyo from Watson quickly.

 

The rooftop party was packed with crowds of people dancing, drinking, and indulging in other vices; not a single, BD gonk among them, though.  This was real living: raw, unedited; maybe a little unsafe: the way Thorn liked it, but he was on the job, and the sporadic memories from his own bender a couple of nights ago still made him feel ill.

The rockerboy started a group call with the crew over the holo, so they would be able to communicate with each other over the thumping music.  “Split up.  We have a better chance of finding Dalton that way.” 

Thorn navigated the crowd.  He thought he saw a flash of yellow, but a caressing hand on his shoulder and chest stopped him in his tracks.  It took a moment to recognize who it was in the strobbing, multicolored lights, but the dual-toned, high-volume hair jogged his memory.

“You didn’t call me!”  It was the “groupie” from the other night.  What was her name?  Gina?  No.  It was a little longer, more exotic.  Giella, Gianella?

“Ah…sorry.  Been busy with work…composing.  Sad song; needed the space,” he yelled back over the loud music.

“I’ll cheer you up!  Let’s dance!” she took a sip from the small, glowing straw in her drink and moved her chromed, dancer’s body closer to the rockerboy’s, swaying to the music.  The chromatic lights highlighted, silvery EMP line patterns on her face.  It was going to be difficult to extricate himself from this; for a number of reasons.  Shit.⁶

***

Insurance scanned the crowd from the safety of the impromptu bar near the DJ’s booth.  No sign of a yellow jacket; not that it would be easy to spot with the dance lights.  Still, something was off.  The people were off.  There was a lot of sweating, which was normal for such a crowded party, even though it was outside.  The weather was warm.  She noticed a lot of pale faces, too; even the ones with darker skin; and coughing, lots of coughing.  There’s something going around, and it isn’t just the alcohol, drugs, and potential STIs, but that last one was in the right category: sickness.⁷

The group call interrupted her thoughts.  It was Maven.  Hardpoint was next to her, game face on, searching the crowd.  Thorn’s image was shaky, showing a jumble of moving body parts that didn’t necessarily belong to him, and…was that giggling?  His face appeared, but his expression looked distressed.  Maven yelled: “We found Dalton!  He’s…” 

“NCPD!”  The dance music and lights turned off suddenly, leaving only harsh, maintenance lamps shining over the area.  The crowd looked like compromised cockroaches under a flashlight.

The amplified, authoritative voice continued: “This building is under quarantine!  Everyone go back inside in an orderly fashion!  Do not leave the building!” 

The edgerunner crew managed to reconvene in the crowd’s confusion, as far away from the NCPD officers as possible.  They lost sight of Dalton, though.

“What do we do?”  Maven whispered.  Hardpoint was still searching for Dalton in the crowd.  Insurance looked nervous. 

“Over here!” Thorn said.  He was standing next to a maintenance grate by a nearby vent.  The rockerboy was able to lose his new input in the crowd somehow.  “I was a megabuilding rat.  We used to gonk around in maintenance tunnels like this all the time.  Maven, you got a multitool with you?”

“Yeah!  Duh!” she replied.

“Great!  Help me open this.” he said.

***

The edgerunners wandered the megabuilding's labyrinthine maintenance tunnels for almost an hour.  It was stuffy here.  The fans just seemed to recycle the stale air, and they were all sweating; Insurance more than the others.  Hardpoint glared at Thorn: “I thought you knew these maintenance vents.” 

“I said I was a megabulding rat.  I didn’t say I grew up in this one.”  Thorn was a little confused.  He was sure these megabuldings were cookie-cutter; they certainly looked it, but the layout was different from what he remembered. ⁸

“What’s wrong Insurance?”  Maven asked.  “Are you ok?” 

The medtech sighed.  “This is probably not the best time for this, but I may be a...person of interest in NCPD records,” she said.  “It would be best for everyone involved if we didn’t have an encounter with them.”⁹

“Preem.”  Hardpoint said sarcastically.

“That grate right there should lead to the parking garage.”  Thorn grinned.  “Told you I knew my way around!”

***

The crew followed a vent that ended in another maintenance hatch with a view of the parking garage.  The lights were dim, but flashes of blue and red light could be seen from an NCPD vehicle parked to block the way for any vehicles attempting to leave.  

From their hiding place, the edgerunners could see two officers talking to each other beside the vehicle.  But one, a young rookie from the looks of it, was patrolling the parking garage itself.  Not close, but within sight of their position if they emerged from the maintenance grate.

“Shit!”  Thorn whispered.  “There’s the stairs out, but we have to make it past those cops.”  He pointed towards the far end where a green “EXIT” sign existed above a door.  

“I got an idea.”  Maven whispered back with uncharacteristic resolve.  “I’ll keep the cop busy while you sneak behind the cars to the door.”

“Are you sure?”  Hardpoint whispered with concern.  Insurance nodded with even graver concern.  This might not be the best course of action...then again, they didn't have any better ideas; at least not ones that wouldn't involve flying bullets.¹⁰

“Don’t worry, sister.  Trust me,”  Maven said.  She mussed up her hair a little, tied her jacket around her waist, and adjusted her “Melting Hottie” top to show some skin.  The tech emerged from the group’s hiding place while the patrolling cop's attention was turned elsewhere, and activated her own, tribal-meets-Asian-style light tattoos (the crew had no idea she had those.¹¹)  Maven affected a drunken stumble reminiscent of Thorn’s from the other night.  It was a pretty good impression.  Thorn was a little embarrassed.

"Hahaha!  Heeey!  Whoops!" Maven deliberately tripped and stumbled onto the young patrolman.  He didn’t go for his service weapon, though; extending his arms to catch the drunken laser-raver Maven pretended to be instead.

“Ah…sorry, officer.”  Maven brushed her multi-color hair away from her cybereye and looked up at the young cop.  He was cute, and his aftershave smelled good.  If circumstances were different, she would have asked for his detes.  Hah!  Who was she kidding?  She’d be too shy to.  “Eyes on the prize, Maven!” she thought.  “Pretend it’s one of your gonk romance virtus.” 

The young rookie was unsure how to act, but he wasn’t necessarily alarmed, or repelled by Maven.  He composed himself and became professional.  His colleagues might be watching: “Miss, you can’t be down here.”

“Ah...I’m not from here, and I lost my friends,” Maven said with a pout.  Shit!  One of his colleagues was watching!   She tried to move in a direction away from her crew so the cop would turn towards her and his back to them (the other cops’ eyes to her as well.)  The edgerunners took advantage of the opportunity and began to creep from one car to another towards the exit.

“There’s a shopping center and food court two floors up.  You can take the stairs.  The elevators have been disabled.”  The young cop pointed with his thumb behind him in the direction of the stairs.  “You might not be able to get to your friends just yet, but you can get in touch and maybe wait for them there.”  Maven could see that her crew had made it all the way to the end of the parking and through the exit.  She stumbled to leave: “Thanksh, offisher!  You’ve been preem helpffful!”  Ok, you’re overplaying it now.  Tone it down!  The officer stopped Maven.  Her blood froze in her veins.

“Uh…sorry Miss, but...ah...do you like Melting Hottie?  I went to their concert at Riot last month; real preem.  You wanna…talk about them over coffee sometime?  Sorry if that’s inappropriate.”  The rookie had a puppy-dog look to him that was not unlike Maven’s; like a mirror image of each other.¹²

“Uh…wha?  Hahaha!  Yeah!  Sure!” Maven’s nervous tension deflated.  "God!  That sounded cringey," she thought, but her excitement dispelled her self-consciousness.  The blue LEDs in her custom cybereye flickered as she passed the young cop her detes.

“Thanks!”  He smiled.  “Listen, go straight to the floor I told you about upstairs.  Don’t go all the way downstairs.  There are more of us at the bottom floor.  We have the building locked tight.” 

One of the cops by the car yelled suddenly: “Schmit!  Quit gonking around!  Stuff it on your own time!”  It was either the rookie’s partner, or superior.  The one next to him glanced at Maven and the rookie briefly with a smirk under his stereotypical cop-stache before turning back to talk to a female cop in the NCPD vehicle’s driver’s seat.

She said: “Aw!  Leave him alone, you gonks!  We don’t get a lot of time for romance.  Let him have it while he can.”  Her smile faded as she stared past the windshield and muttered: "Plenty of time for disappointment later..."

Maven’s gait was more skip than stumble as she left for the exit.  The rookie returned to his patrol, but he was skipping inwardly as well.

***

The information from the rookie cop came in handy, as the edgerunner crew avoided the bottom floor and used another maintenance tunnel that took them to the sewers and away from the megabuilding.  They emerged from a manhole cover next to an empty lot where they had parked their van.

“Well, that was a bust.  Sorry, chooms.”  Thorn said.

“No, not exactly.”  Hardpoint said, producing an Arasaka submachine gun with a pink skull design from inside her jacket.  “Dalton dropped it on the floor when he spotted us.  Plus, we know where he is now, and unless he’s familiar with megabuilding vents, he’s not going anywhere for a while.”  Hardpoint grinned wolfishly.  “And even if he did, all we have to do is wait for him to move, then follow him, and pounce.”  The solo started the van.  It seemed to Thorn that Hardpoint's quiet intensity was a little frightening sometimes.

“Preem!  Maven, you’ll keep us posted on the tracker, right?” the rockerboy said. 

“Uhh…sure!”  Maven was sincere, but her mind was somewhere else.  It smelled faintly of aftershave and good manners.

***

As the edgerunner van faded into the distance, a refurbished, ARCH Nazare cycle with Valentino colors revved up.  Spike got a good deal on this one – a reward from Maria for having tracked the edgerunners to El Coyote Cojo, and continuing to do so.  She watched them leave through the neon-lit visor of her helmet, then sped off from a construction site across Megabuilding H4, and towards Heywood.  She activated her holo to make a call.¹³

 

^{To be Continued...}

Game Notes

---

1 This part's downtime was strictly healing, repairing, and buying/selling gear. Nothing significant to report.^↩ 

2 Since the beginning, I thought of this group as members of a figurative rejects table in a high school cafeteria. The GM oracle confirmed this by giving me a hard “no” when I asked if they could go inside the Afterlife. They're just not "cool" enough...yet.^↩  

3 Technically, Hardpoint doesn’t have a sidearm on her sheet, just the assault rifle and Mantis Blades, but it seems in character for her to have one. In the video game, V has a Unity pistol during cut scenes no matter what their weapon loadout is. I’ll remedy this discrepancy by buying a sidearm for her later.^↩ 

4 I rolled up a few medtech "friends" for this crew for some reason. It wasn't much of a stretch to imagine Wrench and Insurance knew the same one, given their nomad connection.^↩ 

5 When I considered another pregen to replace Wrench, I thought it would be good to have a “cleric” – someone that could fight, heal, and help prevent or mitigate casualties. I got a “yes” from the GM oracle when I asked it whether Insurance was the REO paramedic that Wrench had spared in the first encounter. I’m also leaning on the “cleric” bit by making her straight-laced, maybe even religious. The lifepath I rolled for her is pretty interesting. She’s a definitely multi-dimensional character, and not necessarily what she seems, or the personality she presents to others.^↩  

6 The adventure suggests that a fixer or rockerboy can easily find a contact or fan here, but I was tired of the same, "Hi! I'm a fan!" type of encounter, so I asked the GM oracle if it was the "groupie" from the downtime encounter before, and got an exceptional "yes."^↩  

7 According to the adventure, a medtech doesn't even need to roll to notice this. Choosing Insurance is already paying off!^↩  

8 I failed the necessary roll with Thorn, badly, which was pretty funny, considering his background. ^↩  

9 Part of her lifepath results, of course (Family Crisis: "Wanted")^↩  

10 According to her lifepath, Hardpoint values “family,” but she has none, and lost the closest thing to it (twice!) I imagine that she is like a rescue dog that has lived on the streets for too long. Overly cautious and even vicious, but with the right “family,” they can become loving and loyal, not to mention a fierce protector of their “pack.”^↩  

11 Me neither. I found them on her sheet while I was trying to figure out how to make it through this encounter without a firefight. I was a little...err...gun-shy after the Northside ambush.^↩  

12 I believe this was an interrupting event after asking the GM oracle a question about whether the crew was good to go (even though they succeeded with their Stealth rolls.) I interpreted the result as the cop asking Maven out, but it seemed weird for him to do that without having something in common. Therefore, I figured they’re of similar age and demeanor, and now “Melting Hottie” has become a band in my personal, Cyberpunk head-canon. I also made a mental note of this event. The cop could end up becoming a contact or even a lawman PC at some point.^↩  

13 I made this up (with the help of the GM oracle) to explain how the Valentinos found the PCs at El Coyote Cojo (and later.) I asked the GM oracle about the motorcycle (the one at Tom’s Diner) and it “lied” with a “yes.” Reading through the adventure again later, I realized it’s actually a Brennan Apollo, so it couldn’t be the same bike Jackie gets (and V inherits.) I’m rolling with it, though; my campaign.^↩

Bonus: Megabuilding Encounters (1d10)

Here are some potential encounters that could occur while players are wandering around one of the many megabuildings in Night City.  Some of these could turn into short adventures themselves.

1. Locked Out!  A distressed tenant is banging on their own apartment door, pleading to be let back in; they've been locked out due to unpaid rent. The tenant will offer the players some eddies to help them bypass the door (doesn’t get paid til next month, though, and what will they do about rent then?)  Opening the door requires a DV13 Pick Lock, or Interface Check.  A DV15 BODY Check to force it open the door with brute force is also possible.  However, failing either roll or going the physical route activates security bot(s) for that floor (one per PC.)  Security Bot: HP 30, SP: 10 (all); MOV 4, WILL 4, INT 3; Combat Skills: Brawling 10, Evasion 7, Shoulder Arms 10; Weapon: Power Assault Rifle (5d6 DMG, Ammo 24).
2. Domestic Dispute.  The players can hear shouting down a hallway or open apartment.  A couple is in the middle of a heated argument (roll 1d6): 1-2: one is yelling at the other, who huddles in fear; 3-4: the aggressor is actively violent; 5-6: they are both yelling at each other and throwing things.  They may both attack if the PCs intervene.  Use boosterganger “mook” stats for the aggressor(s).
3. Extortion at the Noodle Shop.  Members of the local gang (one “mook” type per player) are shaking down a shop owner at a convenience store or eatery inside the megabuilding.  The gangoons are collecting their “protection fee” for the month, but the owner can’t pay and is on the verge of getting brutalized. The gangoons have backup (half again the number of gangoons, round up) watching from the shadows, with a DV13 Perception check for the PCs to notice them.  The PCs might have to consider whether it’s worth stepping in.
4. Grizzly Crime Scene. The area is cordoned off with NCPD holo-tape, but the PCs can see it looks bad (blood splattered on the walls and such.)  It could be the standard, Body Lotto number, a gang hit, serial killing, or worse (see “Join Us…” below.)  The cops seem tense, keeping anyone from the area without a good reason.  A curmudgeonly Lawman is smoking while grimly observing the scene nearby (could be a friend from a PC's Lifepath.)  No potential witnesses will to talk to the detective, so she might need “private contractors” to assist her with this case.
5. Cyberpsycho or Victim?  Someone has barged into one of the apartments, yelling and carrying on, terrifying the resident(s.)  Roll 1d6: 1-2 – they are just a troubled person, drunkard, or junkie (incl. BD,) and can be talked down or convinced to leave, 3-4 – it’s an edgerunner freaking out and on the run after a gig gone wrong (“Game over, choom!”)  What happened, and are the PCs now involved?; 5-6 – they *are* a cyberpsycho, and they’re about to pop (some heads!)  Regardless of the result of the roll, MAX-TAC has been called.
6. We Can Replace Your Meat Wholesale!  Graffiti indicates that an unlicensed ripperdoc works out of an apartment here (DV9 Streetwise Check to notice.)  Roll 1d6: 1-2 – they have amazing deals (“half off!”,  “BOGO!”,) but the cyberware malfunctions at the worst possible moment, such as a critical failure.  If the PCs return, the ripperdoc has pulled up the tent stakes and moved their scammy business elsewhere; 3-4 – the ripperdoc has a custom item that is better than the standard version for double the cost (Sandevistan prototype, anyone?)  Of course, someone is likely looking for it; 5-6 – They work with scavengers.  In fact, one or more of the PCs are now marked for “restocking.”
7. The Jumper.  Someone has had too much of this dystopia and they are considering jumping to the courtyard several floors below.  There are a few curious bystanders, but sadly, no one seems to care.  Can the PCs talk them out of it?  Whichever Social skill(s) they use to do so, they need to succeed at three attempts at DVs 9, 13, and 15.  Each success also means that they can get closer to the jumper without them freaking out (and jumping.)
8. The Cleaner.  An automated cleaning drone (roll 1d6): 1-2 – is overperforming and believes the PCs to be "dirty…bzzt…dirty…bzzt…dirty"; 3-4 – is malfunctioning and causing mayhem with tenants on this floor, but is otherwise harmless.  If they can stop or fix it, the thankful tenants may assist the PCs with something they need, such as information; 5-6 – it has been hacked by Voodoo Boys and it is about to murder a target marked for a hit; like "The Jumper" above, but the victim is about to be involuntarily “suicided.”  Why?  Megacorp secrets, most likely.  Cleaning Drone: HP 35, SP: 5 (all); MOV 5, WILL 3, INT 2; Combat Skills: Brawling 10; Weapon: mechanical arms (2d6/2d6 DMG.)
9. You Do Not Talk About [Censored.]  It’s fight night!  There is a group gathered in an out-of-the-way or gym area within the megabuliding, watching two combatants about to go at it.  Roll 1d6: 1-2 – players can place bets; 3-4 – players can participate in the fight (roll 1d6: Even – “mook” stats, Odd – “lieutenant” stats;) 5-6 – bets are fixed by local criminals or gang.  Their fighter is a ringer that looks like a “mook” but has “mini-boss” stats.  Even if the PC wins, the gang may target them for ruining their scheme.
10. Join Us...  The PCs have come across a gathering of religious people inside the megabuilding.  Roll 1d6: 1-2 – they’re weird, but nice; some of them are even attractive!  If a PC is friendly, they get a free, prepack snack and a drink, plus daily, religious spam over the holo from then on; 3-4 – they're unfriendly, and get in the PCs’ faces about their “unholy and profane” chrome; 5-6 – as 1-2, but they’re a dangerous cult, and may be associated with “Grizzly Crime Scene” above.

This material based on the Cyberpunk Edgerunners Mission Kit is unofficial content provided under the Homebrew Content Policy of R. Talsorian Games and is not approved or endorsed by RTG. This content references materials that are the property of R. Talsorian Games and its licensees.

Cyberpunk Edgerunners Mission Kit Solo Log – Part 4 (Plus Environmental Options)

Setback in Northside

Image from cyberpunk.fandom.com

(Start at Part 1 here.)

The next morning found Wrench working on his van.  The nomad didn’t have the lug nuts to crawl back to the ripperdoc after his warning (which he didn’t heed,) but he was feeling a little better and up for some grease-monkeying.  A sudden call on his holo almost caused him to drop the van’s hood on his head.

“We got a ping!” It was Maven’s excited face in a box, along with Hardpoint’s serious expression from the box next to her.  Thorn’s half-extended “bed hair” barely concealed his sleepy face within a third box below.  Sometimes, the facial simulation software in older Chyron versions glitches and adds another face or even body parts when they get too close to the caller.  A woman’s face with tussled, dual-toned hair emerged from the rockerboy’s shoulder as if she was peeking curiously over it, even though she was not actually on the call.  

There was an awkward silence.  Thorn's amalgamated image looked beside him and then back at the group with a look of feigned embarrassment.  Things like this happened after a night of "hanging out" with Papa Garcin.  The face kissed the rockerboy, then disappeared behind him.

Maven blinked and continued: “The jacket was in Watson; Northside.  Get over here, you gonks!”  She cut the call.

***

The van dropped off Thorn’s “groupie” at the corner of Cortes and Kennedy Street.  She made the antiquated sign for “call me” at the rockerboy as the van screeched off.  Maven and Hardpoint were in the back, snickering like schoolgirls.  Wrench glared at Thorn as the rockerboy waved goodbye from the passenger-side window: “Do I look like one of those bald, blue-lipped Delamains to you?!  Ah!   Would you like to purchase the Excelsior package for just a billion eddies more, Sir?  It comes with a complementary bottle of La Perle des Alpes.”  Wrench's impression of the automated taxi service left something to be desired, but it was pretty entertaining.  He grumbled: "I don’t see why we had to waste time dropping off your input!  Jacket’s probably long gone by now!"

Thorn shrugged and glanced at a screen on the dashboard which displayed the “mirror” view from the passenger-side camera.  Words scrolled below the girl's shrinking shape in the distance: “objects are closer than they appear”  The image gave Thorn an idea for the song he was working on, but he was a little hung over, and didn’t relish the thought of composing in a stuffy van while arguing with a cranky nomad.  “Relax, she needed the ride and it was on the way,” he said.

"Don’t worry, big brother."  Maven placed her little hand on the nomad’s broad shoulder in the same way he had done to her days ago.  “The signal is delayed anyway, so it probably doesn’t matter if we’re a little late.  We might still find a good lead.”   Wrench grunted and concentrated on the road, fuming in silence.

***

They arrived at the ping’s coordinates: an abandoned shantytown in the middle of nowhere – technically still in the NID, but reaching the city’s northern outskirts, near the old oilfields.  The megacorps had abandoned this area a long time ago, but it still smelled of toxic fumes.

As Thorn’s mother told it, their family had lived in a place like this towards the end of the Time of the Red.  The sitting Mayor at the time was hell-bent on a crusade against homelessness to shore up support for reelection, so the shantytown had to go (translation: some megacorp wanted the land.)  To avoid PR blowback, there was a lottery to house some of the families in one of the new megabuildings that had been constructed; really a subsidized rent scheme that funneled money to the same megacorp’s subsidiaries, with a little left over for the Mayor’s pockets as well.  Thorn’s family had been lucky “winners” but most of the other families in that shantytown were never heard from again.

"Karma is a bitch," however, and by the time Thorn had turned about 13 or 14, his family was kicked out of the apartment they lived in, along with several others on that floor.  The entire floor (a mid-to-upper one) was prime real estate that a developer wanted to buy for peanuts, spruce up, and rent out for even more eddies as higher-end units.  An “error” in the system showed that his parents had not paid their rent in several months.  They had.  Thorn saw to it while his mom and dad went on one of their usual benders.  It was a one-two punch of corporate layoffs, plus alcoholism and substance abuse after their corpo-prescribed stimulants were cut off.  It wrecked his parents.  The fun, wholesome family sitcom of his childhood turned dark during those years, and music became his escape.  Corpos: 2, average folks: 0.¹

Wrench parked the van a safe distance from the area and the group moved cautiously towards the middle of the shantytown.  It was eerily quiet here, and the morning haze (or was it the chemicals?) obscured vision between the abandoned, aluminum shacks and piles of trash.  Not a soul was around.  Something didn’t feel right.

Hardpoint was the first one to notice it: the glint of a scope.²  She only had time to yell: “It’s a trap!” before she was forced to duck behind one of the shacks.  A rifle round barely missed her.

Two gonks with holo-shades and bulky, Satara tech shotguns emerged from hiding places to open fire.  If our edgerunners were small fish in a big pond, these were bottom-feeders.  Young toughs, or down-on-their-luck cyberpunks with scavenged iron and cheap, LED-lit, "Qin Da Chi" blades from some market in Kabuki (dried blood still on both) to complete the street ronin look.  They worked for small-time eddies, and were highly expendable, but still dangerous.  The edgerunner crew scattered for cover.  None of them couldn’t see who fired the rifle shot.

Wrench and Thorn exchanged gunfire with the two edgerunner gonks.  Hardpoint moved around the shacks, keeping cover between her and the direction of the rifle shot, to flank one of the edgerunner gonks.  He barely had time to look upward to see the solo’s silhouette in the morning sun, dropping on him with Mantis Blades fully extended.  Still, he managed to dodge out of the way, and produced his cheap, ronin’s blade to clumsily (but effectively,) fend off Hardpoint’s onslaught.

Maven found a tall, stepped stack of containers covered by an old tarp flapping in the wind.  She clambered her way up easily this time, and set up a position with her Techtronika rifle, partially concealed by the tarp.  Her custom optics were fuzzy for a brief second as they interfaced with the sniper rifle’s scope to reveal four silhouettes in the area, highlighted in red.³  One was kneeling from the top of a shack with a rifle.  She found him.  “Getting the hang of this edgerunning thing!" she thought to herself with newfound confidence.

With one of the gonks preoccupied, the rockerboy and nomad concentrated their fire on the other.  They could hear the sound of clashing blades between them.  This gonk was not bad, Hardpoint thought.  He might have even had a future as an edgerunner, but she intended to make sure his talent went undiscovered.

Maven got a bead on the rifleman and fired.  A hit!  But he was only stunned for a moment; must have body armor under the coat, or dermal plating, the tech thought.  Worse, he managed to spot her and shoot before leaping off of the shack.  Damn!  That was too close!  Maven had to leave her compromised position as well, like when she was spotted “camping” in one of those VR shoot-em-ups she played as a teen.  

Once below, she realized that her custom optics were still fuzzy, even though she had disconnected safely from her rifle scope.  “That’s not right!  I just calibrated them…” her heart sank.  One of the four gonks she had spotted earlier wasn’t fighting, just kneeling behind some cover.  She thought it was odd, but she had been focused on the rifleman on top of the shack then.  Netrunner; must have picked up her signal when her optics connected to her scope.  “That’s the last time I settle for bargain firewall soft, even if I have to eat kibble!”  The tech stumbled, hampered by staticky vision, as she tried to find new cover.  She couldn’t see that the rifleman was on her tail.

Hardpoint was getting tired of the blade exchange, but the edgerunner gonk was tiring as well.  In the end, titanium cyberware beat cheap steel, which snapped like freeze-dried scop cracker.  Her blade continued its trajectory to cut through neck and bone like a rush-and-bamboo tameshigiri, ending that particular street ronin’s career.

Maven managed to find cover behind another shack closer to where the edgerunner crew had entered the shantytown. She tried peeking around a corner to see if she was safe, but was effectively blind in one eye.  She had to warn the others about that netrunner, but if she did, the ‘runner would know everything she exchanged with her crew!  The tech concentrated on all her disappointment and anger at what she perceived to be her failures on this gig: “GET OUT OF MY HEAD!!!”  Her firewall finally kicked in, and dumped the intruder.  Maven wished it had been black ICE to fry them instead, but at least she was safe.

“Netrunner!  Watch out!” she quickly messaged to the others.  Her baby-faced, winning grin was cut short by rifle fire against her cover.  She peeked out briefly, and could see the rifleman with her optics clearly now.  The ratty, black leather coat he wore contrasted with clean-cut, Asian features.  This guy was no edgerunner gonk, he was a professional corpo agent; Arasaka.  Maven’s heart skipped a beat as she realized the danger she was in.

Thorn and Wrench looked at each other while they were sheltering behind cover and reloading.  They had both seen Maven’s message.  “Go find that netrunner, I’ll cover you!”  Wrench said.  The nomad emerged and unleashed with his Kang Tao.  Smart shells flew like a swarm of lighting-fast bees to make contact with the enemy’s armor in several places, driving him back behind cover.  Thorn dashed between the shacks, and past the preoccupied gonk, with a clumsy, one-handed blast from his Carnage for good measure.  Maven messaged the netrunner’s location to the rockerboy over his holo.⁴

Hardpoint had also received Maven’s messages, but the solo was more concerned about that corpo agent she mentioned. Maven was alone with him.  Hardpoint produced her own, Arasaka rifle, racked it with the familiar, satisfying sound of a well-maintained weapon, and ran towards Maven’s position.

The remaining edgerunner gonk recovered, and came out of cover briefly to fire his Satara at the rockerboy, but only managed to hit a makeshift AC unit on the side of a shack.  It exploded with flying sparks (was the electricity still connected here?!)  This was enough of a distraction for Wrench to charge and close the distance, slamming into the gonk like a nomad rig.  His cyberfist made impact and broke the gonk’s face with an audible crunch and a glitch of his holo-shades.  Only the gonk’s spray-painted, armorjack helmet saved his skull.  Some edgerunners forego head protection, since it interferes with their “style,” but that often results in not-so-stylish corpses.⁵  This edgerunner was smarter than most…until the concussion killed his bonus brain cells.

Thorn spotted the netrunner and fired his shotgun to disrupt her.  The netrunner returned fire with her own pistol, but the LEDs in her eyes were flashing blue.  Thorn realized what she was doing: probably hacking his chrome right now and he wouldn’t know it until it was too late.  The rockerboy didn’t have much cyberware save for his neurport and AudioVox implant.  If the netrunner got to that, it would mean he would have to miss his next music gig while he got an antivirus checkup with his ripperdoc.  No real loss.  The netrunner fired her pistol again and ran off.  Thorn chased after her.

But Thorn had not been the netrunner’s target.  One of Wrench’s Gorilla Arms stopped in mid swing to twitch and spasm.  “Fuck!”  Wrench took his eyes off the edgerunner gonk to look at his malfunctioning arm in an involuntary reflex.  That was all the time the gonk needed to recover, pick up his shotgun, and shoot, destroying the same arm in a burst of parts.  Wrench tried to smash the gonk with his other arm, but missed wildly and the gonk fired again.  The tech shot blasted through the nomad’s already damaged armorjack and straight to flesh.  There’s a reason protective equipment comes with a disclaimer not to reuse after damage.  The nomad went down.

***

The Arasaka agent advanced on Maven’s position as she was reloading, but a barrage of automatic rifle fire from  Hardpoint checked his progress.  Maven popped out of the shack's "window" opening and fired her shotgun.  A pattern of small holes appeared on the agent’s leather coat as he jumped behind cover.  The tech and the solo had him successfully pinned down.⁶

***

The battered, edgerunner gonk approached Wrench, his face bleeding and bruised, but murderously confident.  The nomad was incapacitated and having trouble moving.  Blood trickled from his mouth and flowed freely from the wound in his torso.  He couldn’t speak, but the hatred in his eyes sent an unmistakable message.  The gonk raised his shotgun to finish off the nomad, but Wrench's remaining Gorilla Arm darted out and latched on to his throat.  Microservos in the nomad’s fingers contracted hard enough to crunch trachea and squeeze the life out of him.⁷  The nomad's cyberhand only released when the life left him to join his brother and sister riders in the sky.  The two edgerunners fell together as if they were choombas embracing.  They might have shared drinks at the Afterlife had circumstances been different.  Regardless, everyone is equal in death.

***

The netrunner could see through her Chyron link that half her team had flatlined.  She decided the meager eddies for this scop job weren’t worth it, and fled, vowing to work from the sidelines from now on.  The hustle can do the front-line work.⁸  She dived into the edgerunner gonks' beat-up ride and started it while the Arasaka agent yelled curses at her in Japanese.  She cut the holo link.  Thorn was about to run after the vehicle, as ridiculous as chasing a car without cyberlegs sounds, but Hardpoint called the crew back over the holo.  There was no response from Wrench.

***

The Arasaka agent fired his last few rounds to cover his own escape into the oilfields.  Blood drops appeared on the ground in his wake, but Hardpoint decided not to follow.  She had a bad feeling.  Regrouping with Maven, the two rushed to Wrench’s location to find the nomad had fallen.  Maven put her hands to her mouth in shock, and Hardpoint ran to render first aid, but it was too late.  She turned to Maven and shook her head.  The young tech fell to her knees.  The edgerunning thing had seemed so exciting when she had told her Zetatech boss to stuff it, and sold her services on the black market to other edgerunners.  After hearing their stories, she decided she wanted to live on the Edge too.  Now life and death on the Edge was a terrible reality for her.

Thorn arrived shortly after, out of breath.  Maven was crying softly.  When the rockerboy realized what had happened, he pounded his fist against the side of a shack and cursed.  Hardpoint waited a moment before she got the rockerboy's attention: “Thorn, help me with him.”  He hung his head and nodded, then went over to assist the solo with their fallen teammate.⁹

***

The edgerunner crew ended up at DaKota Garage later.  Calling their client was the best idea they could come up with after the ambush in Northside.  Falco told them to meet up at the fixer’s place.  

The group spent the rest of the day there, numb from the days' events.  Thorn had found a bottle of Papa Garcin somewhere, and was taking swigs off of it while pacing shirtless, with tech hair fully extended.¹⁰   The LEDs in his hair and light tattoos pulsed every time he swallowed, which made him look like an advertisement.  Maven sat quietly by Wrench’s remains.  They had been covered respectfully with an old, but clean blanket.  Her face was marred by tear streaks on one side.  Hardpoint was talking with Dakota in the fixer’s office.

“You did good bringing him here, sister.”  The older, nomad woman said as they emerged from her office.  “We’ll get him to his people.  Normally, his belongings go back to the family since it rightfully belongs to them, but you’ll need them to complete the job.  I think he would have wanted that.”  Hardpoint voiced her thanks, Maven hung her head down in despair, and Thorn took another swig of rum, performed a weird pirouette while doing so, and ended with a clumsy bow of gratitude in the direction of Dakota.

Falco watched the eerily-familiar scene from the shadows while leaning on a nomad vehicle that was undergoing repairs at the garage.  His gaze switched from examining the Lexington pistol the edgerunners had recovered back to the group.  He sighed, hesitating before he spoke:  “Y’all don’t have to complete this job if y’all don’t want to.  I understand.  I’ll pay you for what you’ve done so far.  Might have to just call this a loss.”  He had lost so much already, what’s one more?

Thorn stopped mid-swallow, and spit the rum out with a cough.  He wiped his mouth and pointed with an index and pinky finger in their general direction:  “Nah!  Stuff that!  It’s personal now.  I don’t know why Arasaka is after that jacket, and I don’t give a scop.  You’re getting your stuff, cowboy, all of it, and riding off into the sunset!  Us too, with our eddies!”  Maven raised her head and looked at both Thorn and Hardpoint.  The solo nodded back at the both of them in respectful agreement.  She knew a thing or two about wanting payback.

Falco couldn’t help smiling bitterly under his mustache.  Did stories just repeat themselves like this?  “Then at least take some downtime before you get back on the job.  Believe me, I know you need it.  Call me if there’s any development.” 

The sound of an approaching vehicle indicated that the Aldecaldos had arrived to bring back one of their own.  “You may pay your respects before you go, if you want.”  Dakota said.  Hardpoint went up to Wrench and gave the fallen nomad a professional nod, but no one could tell what she said to him.   Maven got up and went up to the covered nomad, kissed her hand, and touched his forehead.    She whispered, her voice breaking:  “Good bye, big brother.”  Days before, when Maven had asked him, Wrench had told her that calling chooms “brother” and “sister” was a term of respect among nomads, even if they weren’t related.  It meant you were family, and treated as such.  It seemed fitting.  There is bond that forms among people who experience danger together, even complete strangers.  That bond was beginning to form with this crew.

Thorn shuffled over to Wrench, “poured one out” for him, then took a drink himself.  He turned and stumbled in the direction of the garage’s exit, but away from Maven and Hardpoint, who were going to nomad’s van – now their van.  “You’re not coming with us?”  Maven asked.

“Nah…”  Thorn slurred, shaking his head to sober up.  “There’s a motel and bar a short distance from here; heard Wrench liked to go there.  I’m gonna check it out.  I’ll find my way back.”  He stumbled down the road, with the mostly-empty bottle of Papa on one hand and making a hitchhiker’s thumbs-up with the other.   

"We can give you a ride!”  Maven yelled after him.  Thorn did a gesture that said “I’m good” without looking back and then spread his arms wide, looking up at the darkening sky to feel the cool, desert breeze.  Hardpoint put her arm around Maven and ushered her to the van: “Come on.  Let’s go get something to eat.”

The solo started the van, and the two sped back toward the mirage of vertical, holographic lights that was Night City.  Thorn mock saluted them as they drove by.¹¹
 

Never Forget

To be continued…

Game Notes

---

1 Thorn’s lifepath includes “megabuilding” in both the Family Background and Childhood Environment sections, with the addition of “driven from his home” as his Family Crisis.^↩ 

2 Hardpoint succeeded her Perception roll, and tends to act first pretty much every time due to her class ability's initiative bonus.  This included the chase encounter in the previous episode.^↩ 

3 I know that’s not necessarily how the Grad’s scope looks, but I like the idea of Maven’s custom optics becoming one with it, since they do give her a bonus to spotting enemies^.↩ 

4 Like in the video game, I figured that she “tagged” the enemies and would know their positions in real-time.^↩  

5 Characters in media seldom wear helmets, but any experienced RPG player, especially playing with an old school GM, knows that’s a bad move.^↩  

6 These were just regular attacks. I didn’t know at that time that there are rules in the Cyberpunk RED rulebook for suppressive fire. I have a copy, but I’ve just been referencing the CEMK rulebook during play.^↩ 

7 This was pretty awesome! I offset the nomad's Mortally Wounded penalty by dumping Luck into this last, “F.U.” to this guy (he didn’t have a lot of HP left from the nomad’s pummeling earlier.) I only learned later that characters can attempt to stabilize themselves.  Oh well…the gonk would have probably finished Wrench off, anyway.^↩  

8 Who was this mysterious netrunner? I had some ideas, but too many cameos is too many cameos, so I didn’t actually ask the GM oracle. You decide!^↩  

9 I rolled the shantytown encounter randomly since this part of the encounter order (i.e. “beats”) is left to the GM to decide as to which one happens next. It was a brutal, and I recommend GMs be judicious in deciding when to place this one (or not *evil laughter.*) I kept whiffing rolls with Hardpoint, and made things worse by committing the deadliest of sins in RPGs: don’t split the party! As a result, Wrench’s death is completely on me.^↩  

10 Hey! You find food and drink items lying around in the video game all the time!^↩  

11 I considered the scene at Dakota’s as part of “downtime,” but I felt the need to flesh it out to give Wrench a proper goodbye, even if it’s a little melodramatic. I build on these events later.  I even asked the GM oracle if the other characters could keep Wrench’s things (incl. the van.) PCs are like hyenas when it comes to their fallen choom’s stuff.^↩

Bonus: Environmental Options

Cyberpunk RED and the CEMK have pretty robust rules for cover with some examples, but here are some additional options for cover and other environmental features that can spice up combat encounters.

• Aluminum shack: this counts as "Thin Steel" cover.  At the GM's discretion, enough damage to the walls (about three sections,) could cause it to collapse for 6d6 damage, with a DV17 Athletics check to avoid.
  
• Barbed or concertina wire: causes1d6 damage to anyone trying to move into or through this space.  In addition, the character must spend an action to untangle themselves.
• Billboard or sidewalk ad board: counts as "Thin Steel" cover; may glitch when hit, with potential, hilarious results.
  
• CHOOH2 canister: larger ones count as "Thin Steel" cover.  Regardless of size, these explode for 6d6 damage in a 10m radius when destroyed.
• Large crate, plastic: counts as "Plaster/Foam/Plastic"; could have stuff inside, like a piñata!  Hopefully not explosives!
  
• Large crate, wood: counts as "Thick Wood" cover.  As an option, splintering shrapnel may cause 1d6 damage to anyone within 2m when destroyed.
• Holographic ad projector: ranged attacks against a character standing behind a hologram suffer a -1 penalty.  Characters concealed by a holographic ad also have a +1 bonus to Stealth.
• Oil drums: counts as "Thin Steel" cover.  See toxic waste below for toxic drums.  CHOOH2 drums explode like canisters above.
• Power source: anyone taking cover near a power generator, transformer, or the like may take damage if it is destroyed.  A CHOOH2 generator explodes (as above.)  An electrical source shocks anyone within 2m for 3d6 damage to the body.
  
• Obscuring smoke, fog, or foliage: thin varieties of these penalize ranged attacks against a concealed character by -2, while thick varieties penalize ranged attacks by -4.
• Toxic waste: caustic chemicals cause 1d6 damage per round exposed.  “Heeelp…meee…ooohhh…!” – Paul McCrane as Emil Antonowsky after being doused in toxic waste, Robocop (1987.)
• Vehicle, whole: use the vehicle’s SDP and use your judgment as to whether a destroyed part (like the gas tank or engine,) causes it to explode.  Explosions function like a CHOOH2 canister.

 

This material based on the Cyberpunk Edgerunners Mission Kit is unofficial content provided under the Homebrew Content Policy of R. Talsorian Games and is not approved or endorsed by RTG. This content references materials that are the property of R. Talsorian Games and its licensees.

Cyberpunk Edgerunners Mission Kit Solo Log - Part 3 (Plus NCART N-Counters)

 (New?  Start at Part 1 here.)

Downtime, Barbecues, and Chases

For the next day, the edgerunners took care of their own, personal business.¹ Maven decided to tinker with the REO tracking device at her tiny tech lair and workshop in Little China.  However, it was a straightforward piece of machinery, so she put it back down.  It was really a game of hurry-up-and-wait until the jacket resurfaced and caused the tracker to ping again.

She wouldn’t admit it to the crew, but the firefight at the self-storage place (her first) had shaken her up more than she had expected, even a day later.  Maven reached for her braindance wreath and popped in a meditation shard she bought at a market in Kabuki.  Sure, those shards were usually overpriced, woo-woo scop sold by dubious holy-persons, but they made her feel better.  She needed the confidence boost.  

“Gotta live in the moment…and breathe…” her optics lit up as the meditation BD began.

***

Wrench went to see a ripperdoc he knew out in the Badlands.²  The doc sometimes did business out of the Sunset Motel, a roadhouse of sorts and the last stop out of the city before the open road.  

He could have gone back to the Aldecaldo’s camp for aid, but Wrench had been part of a small faction of rebellious youths that followed in the footsteps of the the hot-tempered, Panam Palmer, who didn’t agree with the clan patriarch's way of doing things.  It was a matter of pride: he would make it big in the city, like old Santiago did, or die trying.

The doc took a look at the nomad’s bruised ribs and chuckled:  “Yep.  You got a couple of fractured boys all right.  I can bandage you up and give you some spare painkillers, but you’re gonna have to take it easy for a while.  I don’t want to see you here again any time soon, you hear?  There ain’t more painkillers for you if you do!”  

“Sure.” Wrench said.  “I’ll relax.”  Wrench’s idea of “relaxing” typically included drinking at the motel’s bar, followed by a fight or two in the parking lot as a chaser.  His ripperdoc knew that too, hence the admonishment.

***

Downtime for Hardpoint wasn’t exactly restful, either.  Running into Spike had drug up a lot of bad memories.  To be fair, Spike wasn’t even responsible for most of them, but thinking about her somehow made those bad memories worse.  

This is why she found herself at the local, 2nd Amendment range.  It was like meditation for her, except loud, and with flying lead.

***

The only one who had anything resembling a good time was Thorn.  His teenage cousin was having a birthday party in Santo, where the rockerboy's family managed to get back on their feet after they were kicked out of the megabuilding they lived in.  

That was the good news.  The bad news was that they had his uncle, who held the rank of "Sarge" in 6th Street, to thank for their good fortune.  That meant the gang pretty much owned their asses.  

Too many people are willing to sell their lives out for safety, he thought.  Whether it’s a megacorp, a government, or a gang, selling out is selling out.  It was one of the messages he tried to get out through his music, if anyone was really listening.  Being independent can be risky, especially in Night City, but it was something you couldn't buy with eddies…or maybe you could.  He became an edgerunner to make his own money: to propel Thorns on Roses to the top without any corpo label backing.  Sticking it to the powers that be on a gig was a bonus.

Despite the 6th Street crowd, the birthday barbecue was fun.  Thorn played a short concert for them, “unplugged” (if you could call a cyber guitar and AudioVox implant that.)  Even the rowdy and drunk 6th Street gonks shut up and listened when Thorn began to strum chords on “vintage acoustic” mode.  They nodded their heads to the music and lyrics, but they didn’t really understand them, even his young cousin, who turned 16 today.  He would probably be joining the gang soon.  Thorn let his rage and sadness at that thought flow through his performance.

***

Wrench picked up the edgerunners the next morning and the crew headed to the NCART station in Vista Del Rey in search of Dalton’s mainline.  Maven had reported no ping from the device as of yet, but they still had this lead to go on.  

Although they tried to arrive early, the crew became stuck in Night City’s legendary, rush hour traffic.  It was hot in the nomad’s vehicle, and everyone was starting to get testy.

Thorn broke the tension with the obvious: “We could have just taken the train, choom."  Maven giggled and even Hardpoint cracked a smile, but Wrench wasn’t in the mood.  The diluted painkillers barely held back the hangover, let alone the pain in his ribs.  

He grunted: “It ain’t my fault you people live like a pack of SoyDeenz in the city!  Open road is the way!  Nothing holding you back, not even the wind; smells fresher too!”  The nomad smiled to himself, lost in some memory, but the rest of the crew didn’t really get the image, packed in the van like those "Deenz."³

They finally arrived to the NCART station at the corner of Congress and MLK towards the end of rush hour.  Wrench haphazardly dumped eddies in a parking meter, and ran to catch up to the rest of the crew headed to the station. Hopefully, they could still catch the busker before her “shift” ended and she left.

The station was dim, and dingier on the inside than it seemed on the outside.  The official story was that Night City had come a long way in the past 30-40 years since the Time of the Red, when radioactive fallout from the nuclear blast that brought down Arasaka towers coated the sky, the rain, and the city itself in a toxic, bloody shade of crimson.  The City Center and parts of the surrounding areas had been rebuilt entirely, but if you looked hard enough, you could see where things were just fresh, neon-lit paint jobs to cover up urban decay going all the way back to before the 2020s.  Like an aging joytoy piling on cheap chrome to cover up the ravages of time.

The station was mostly empty save for a few, late stragglers trying to catch to the next train in vain.  The crew heard the sound of a guitar accompanied by singing, and followed it to its source: a young girl with platinum blonde hair that reflected the pink, neon light of an advertisement behind her.  She was sitting on a blanket at a spot where she could catch the attention of passersby with her music.

 
Wrench said: “You go talk to her, Thorn, since you seem to speak the same language.  Hardpoint and I will keep an eye out for trouble.  Maven, you go with Thorn and watch his back.” 

Thorn and Maven approached the busker and waited patiently for her to finish her song.  Maven dropped a couple of cash eddies in her guitar case.  Thorn clapped, and said:  “Preem!  Never heard that song in a folksy version: might flow better if you go easy on that F chord change, though."  The rockerboy cringed inwardly when he realized that he was thinking out loud.

The busker looked a little annoyed at the criticism, but her demeanor changed when she recognized the rockerboy.  Besides, he sort of had a point – her heart hadn't really been in the performance:“Wait...you’re Thorn, aren’t you?  I just downloaded your last single, Spire to the Stars?  It really rocked!  I’m Summer,” she smiled and extended her hand.

“Thanks!” Thorn smiled back and shook her hand.  His ego had been stroked, which was nice, but he hated being recognized so easily while edgerunning.  Maybe he needed to try a different style?  Really thought combat zone chic would do the trick.  Guess not.  

The rockerboy said: “Listen, I don’t mean to scare you, but we’re looking for your boy, Dalton.  He’s in some trouble and we’re trying to find him before it finds him, if you catch my meaning."

Her face creased with concern.  It seemed to Thorn that she had genuine feelings for this guy, but the busker confirmed this with her words.  According to her, Dalton was a rare sweetheart; nicer than any of the gonks she’d met in Night City, especially as a member of the Mox.  They’d been together for about three months.  He even dropped by about thirty minutes prior to bring her some breakfast.

“Aww…that’s so sweet!”  Maven said with her head cocked to the side and a dreamy smile.  One of the young tech's guilty pleasures was cheap, mass-produced romance virtus.  She was a virtual gonk for them, you could say.  Not like those weirdos who spend all their time (and money) at sketchy, BD shacks, though; she knew her limits...or thought she did.

Thorn continued: “Well, we’re not after him, so you two are safe as far as we’re concerned.  We’re just looking for some stolen stuff; a few weapons and a yellow jacket with a green design; heard he might have it.”  

“That’s right.” she said.  “He gave it to me; said it was supposed to be a symbol of our love, which was sweet of him, but I didn’t have the heart to tell him yellow isn’t my style.  I sold it to some corpo that was here just before you showed up.  He offered me me 500 eddies for it.  What a gonk!  It ain’t even worth half that much!  So of course I handed it over.  We’ll need that money if we’re going to make it, Dalton and me.  Love’s all that matters, but the eddies help, you know?  He’s right over there.” Summer pointed in the direction of a man in a badly-tailored business suit waiting by the blue line platform to Glen North and Megabuilding H1, but the man's eyes widened when he noticed the group staring at him.  He turned his head and saw Hardpoint and Wrench approaching from opposite ends of the station.

Thorn was about to thank Summer and encourage her to continue with her music when Hardpoint shouted: “He’s running for it!”  Maven was still dazzled by the story of the star-crossed lovers.  Wrench growled: “Shit!  Don’t just gonk out!  Get him!” 

The group chased the fleeing corpo into the next NCART train, which had just arrived.  They barely made it inside as the automated voice called to “please stand clear of the closing...”  Wrench forced them open with his Gorilla Arms and the group ran in.

The train was pretty crowded, despite the end of rush hour, and it was hard to make out the corpo in the colorful mass of people.  It didn’t help that some gonk decided that "sharing is caring," and blared the latest Us Cracks from a Fuyutsuki boom box just as the edgerunners tried to squeeze by, startling them.  

“PON-PON SHIT, PON-PON SHIT, PON-PO…"

Wrench smashed the boom box with a hammer-like motion of his cyberfist.  The gonk, who had been nodding his head enthusiastically to that annoying, NC Top 40 number, looked up in outrage, but swallowed his anger when he saw the nomad’s size.

Hardpoint managed to spot the corpo as he was opening the door to the next car.  The edgerunners followed after him.

This one wasn’t as crowded, but the corpo managed to slip behind some large, scop-fed gonk in a dirty, teal tank top and trillby hat that was a little too small for his head.  The husky man had risen from his seat to wait for the next stop, blocking the way.  What happened next was like something out of a nature show, which is really the only way you get to experience wild animals…or any animals, these says (weird, animal simulation virtus notwithstanding.)  

Wrench stepped up to the corpulent gonk and glared at him.  The gonk then sized up Wrench with his own, close-set eyes, and a furrow of his carbuncled brow (the hat made sense now.)  No words were exchanged, save perhaps a grunt or two.  After a tense moment, the gonk realized that he was not the apex predator in the car, and stepped aside for the nomad.  Hardpoint spotted the opening first and dashed through after the corpo, bounding over a set of seats to tackle him before he could reach the end of the car.

The corpo shrank underneath the glint of one of the Hardpoint’s Mantis Blades.  He gave up the detes, and the goods, quickly, blubbering something about just being middle management, and not knowing anything else.  He claimed that he saw an opportunity to get ahead at Arasaka by buying the jacket and took it.  Hardpoint wasn’t buying it, but the puddle of urine forming on the train car’s floor worked better than any lie-detecting implant to confirm the corpo was being mostly truthful.  

The edgerunners let Mr. Pee-Pee Pants (Maven’s name for him) go at the next stop, but they kept the briefcase.  Inside was a yellow jacket, but unfortunately, it seemed to be a fake, like one of those “Samerai” knockoffs.  The green design had been painted on with a level of artistry and chosen medium that spoke: "high school desk graffiti," Thorn thought.  However, an old, Militech Lexington pistol rolled out of the jacket and clattered to the ground.  It was one of the items they were looking for!  That’s one win, at least.

Unfortunately, that had been their only lead, so the edgerunners were forced to wait again for a ping from the actual jacket’s tracking device.  The crew scattered to do their own things in the meantime.

***

Back in Little China, Maven worked on her custom optics.  She should have been able to spot that corpo before Wrench and Hardpoint did, but maybe the calibration is off; could be a piece of dirt grinding against the small, fast-twitch fibers, or a lag in the signal due to a frayed, fiber optic connection.  The only way to be sure was to pop her eye out and place it on a pod that simulated a cybereye socket.  The display next to it had the real-time image of the cybereye watching the tech work while relevant data scrolled beside it.  The empty, cavernous eye socket on Maven’s face made her look like some colorful pirate trying to pick the lock of a treasure chest.

After a several minutes of work, Maven was satisfied that she had made the right adjustments, and popped her eye back in.  The tech sighed, reaching for the rewards of her labors: instant, oolong tea in her old Zetatech mug, Moonchies, and her favorite, café romance virtu.

***

Hardpoint found herself out of place somewhere between the City Center and Heywood, where grimy brownstones slowly morphed into sleek corpo buildings.  She was dressed in a dark pantsuit a few years out of style (best she could find, and afford, at a second-hand clothes stall.)  Her chooms would laugh, but she was on important business and needed to look the part.  

Most edgerunners blow their eddies right after a job, but Hardpoint had her sights set on the future.  Sure, she could, (and should) invest her eddies on upgrades to keep her edge, but a solo’s career is short, even if they somehow managed to live, she knew that much.  She thought about what would happen after she became the top solo in Night City.  The solo didn’t want to whore herself out to some megacorp as a full-time "security contractor," or a gang, like Spike had, until her chrome was so out of date that the next cyberpunk with a new Sandevistan iced her. 

To that end, she went to investigate investment opportunities in some of the older buildings in this area.  It was a good retirement plan, she thought.  Besides, having corpo yuppies owe her rent for their tacky, catalog-furnished pads appealed to her sense of justice.  She knew what it was like to have nothing…never again.⁴

***

Thorn spent time at his old, container “apartment” in Rancho Coronado, trying to hammer out the tune and lyrics for his next song.  He had been living there since 17, when his uncle’s harsh attempts to groom him for 6th Street wore on the young rockerboy.  Despite calls from his aunt imploring him to return for his mother’s sake, Thorn didn’t want to have anything to do with 6th Street, so he settled for a rusting place built sometime during the Time of the Red and ate kibble, scop, or soy paste for most meals.  He had shared the container with someone special to him, which helped to offset the cost of the rent and bills, but she disappeared from his life a long time ago.

The song he was trying to work on was one that went all the way back to that time, and it had gone through many incarnations.  He just never felt right about it, never satisfied, like when you have a craving, but nothing in the fridge looks good.

Thorn was interrupted by a call from his cousin, who thanked him for showing up at his birthday party and playing music for them.  He was very excited to tell Thorn that 6th Street had accepted him into the fold.

“Didn’t you want to work on cars, though?”  Thorn asked.  “You have a knack for that.” 

“That’s the preem thing, cuz!” he said excitedly.  “They’re having me help at one of their garages!  None of their riskier biz for now.  They’re good people, you know; looking out for each other, just like our family.”  He had clearly swallowed the scop 6th Street (and Thorn’s uncle) shoveled, but Thorn didn’t have the energy to naysay him.  “Preem.  Just keep me posted on how it goes.” 

“Sure thing, cuz!  Catch you later!” he cut the call.

Thorn put down his guitar and data pad, and reached for a nearby bottle of Papa Garcin rum along with a chipped, dirty cup made of “unbreakable” synthglass.  That’s the kind of mood he was in now.

To be continued…⁵

Game Notes

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1 Although the adventure suggests some downtime activities, I would ask the GM oracle to confirm what they did, with a higher likelihood if they needed to heal, repair, restock on supplies, or recover Luck. I got a couple of interrupting events, which I interpreted in ways that I thought would flesh out the characters a little in a fun way. ^↩  

2 Technically, a medtech friend from his lifepath.^↩  

3 It occurred to me later that the characters (and their player…err…me) were kind of dumb to drive to the NCART station in the middle of rush hour, resulting in that little scene.^↩  

4 Hardpoint’s second downtime event after the station chase turned up as a weird result with the word “investment.” This is the best idea I could come up with at the time, but her lifepath goal is about “fame and money,” so it kinda fits.^↩ 

5 This episode was kind of a snore too, I know, but it’s building up to something, I swear!^↩

---

 

Bonus: NCART N-Counters (1d10)

You can roll these to liven up any time the PCs are using the city’s public transit .  You can use stats from the CEMK or Cyberpunk RED for these.

1. Average gonks (roll 1d6): 1-4 – busy people trying to push past the PCs, depending on the time of day; 5-6 – tourist(s) with VR-tour shards or technogoggs.

2. Unfortunates (1d6): 1-3 – garden-variety homeless, or wine-o looking for a handout...earn your karma for the day; 4-5 – an “End is Near!” type or religious proselytizer; 6 - It’s a BD gonk skezzing out on their virtual opiate.

3. Busker.  Roll 1d6.  On a 5-6, the busker is actually a hologram with a QR-like code that leads to their CitiNet site where one can donate or purchase their music.

4. Juvenile delinquent (1d6): 1-2 – it’s a graffiti artist, but characters with cyber-optics can find hidden messages in the reactive spraypaint; 3-4 – a pickpocket or purse-snatcher.  Roll 1d6, on an odd result, they’re targeting one of the PCs; 5-6 – it’s a pick-socket looking for shards instead.  Roll 1d6 same as with the pickpocket.

5. Gangoons!  (1d6:) 1-3 – 1d6 members of a gang appropriate to the district, loitering and looking for trouble; 4-5 – 1d6 gangoons about to fight with 1d6 others (could be a beat-down if one side is grossly outnumbered,) 6 – It’s a gang war!  2d6 gangoons from the district are in a firefight against 2d6 outsiders from a different gang.

6. NCPD!  Roll 1d6: 1-4: 1d6 officers patrolling the station; 5-6: 2d6 officers (some which may be robots or drones,) on a manhunt.

7. Corpos (1d6) 1-3: a sad-looking, worn-down sarariman going through the motions: same scop, different day; 4 – a paranoid exec with twin drones to keep the filth and thugs away; 5 – 1d6 “men-in-black” corpo agents, failing to be inconspicuous; 6 – 2d6 Militech or Arasaka rent-a-cops on a manhunt.

8. Protesters (1d6): 1-3 – a few annoying ones pointing out some worthy, but hopeless cause; 4-5 – angry, in-your-face, belligerent whackjobs; 6 – It’s a riot!

9. Roll twice, and make the results fit, such as NCPD running after a juvenile delinquent.  NCPD + Cyberpsycho (below) could be a MAXTAC encounter.  If you roll 9 again, add a weird element, such as a corpo arguing with an AI briefcase or holophone.

10.  A Cyberpsycho!  Don’t forget to call Regina if you can take them down peacefully.

This material based on the Cyberpunk Edgerunners Mission Kit is unofficial content provided under the Homebrew Content Policy of R. Talsorian Games and is not approved or endorsed by RTG. This content references materials that are the property of R. Talsorian Games and its licensees.