"Then it's settled," Lucy said, her voice decisive, not leaving Neo a second to bargain. "Car seven and car eight ahead, they're all corpo employees. And we don't show mercy to corpo dogs. Take every single chip."
Even thieves have rules.
Lucy might be a data pickpocket, but she followed her own code:
Never target civilians, never harm the poor, and never steal from the desperate.
Only corpos. Arasaka employees, their subsidiaries, or anyone who licked their boots were fair game.
"I'll take car seven, you take car eight. Sound good?" she said, already stepping toward the door.
Neo raised his eyes. They were in car six.
Lucy's choice, grabbing the easier car and leaving him the next was obvious. But he didn't mind.
"Fine by me."
She flashed him a grin and a thumbs-up before slipping through the door. The sound of boots on metal faded as she vanished into the next compartment.
…
Stealing chips wasn't as simple as picking pockets.
Before acting, Lucy had to hack into the car's neural relay network — the short-range grid connecting every passenger's brain-port. Once she took control, the ports would automatically eject their personal data chips the moment she walked by.
She blended into car seven's crowd like a shadow. Fingers flew, cyber-eyes flickering as invisible code spread through the compartment.
Neo, meanwhile, moved silently through the connecting door, past car seven, straight into car eight.
He could already feel the faint ripple of Lucy's hacking signals vibrating through the network. She was good — fast. But he didn't need code.
He preferred something simpler.
"Guess I'll do it the old-fashioned way," he murmured, stepping into car eight.
The place was full of corpo types — clean suits, cold faces, corporate arrogance radiating from every implant.
Neo flexed his fingers, then raised his left hand.
"Let's keep this quick."
He clenched his fist, then gently swung forward.
No-Sword Style: Miniature Tornado.
A burst of wind exploded from his punch — invisible, precise, razor-sharp.
It swept through the car like a whisper, brushing against the back of every neck. As it passed, tiny metallic clicks echoed one after another — click, click, click.
In that single motion, every chip in the car popped free, drawn into Neo's waiting palm like falling leaves.
By the time he reached the end of the compartment, his hand was full — the entire car cleaned out.
…
When Neo stepped back through the connecting door into car seven, Lucy was still working.
Each time she passed behind a passenger, a chip popped loose with a metallic flick and landed neatly into her gloved hand. Her movements were smooth, confident — the kind of elegance that came from hundreds of perfect jobs.
Neo leaned against the wall and watched.
After a moment, Lucy noticed him. She turned, red lips curving in a playful smile.
"What's this? Giving up already?"
To her, his relaxed posture said it all — she assumed he'd realized he couldn't keep up and returned early in defeat.
"Well," she said teasingly, holding out her palm, "you know the rules. A bet's a bet. Hand them over."
Neo blinked. "Hand what over?"
"The chips you took from car eight," Lucy said, eyes narrowing, the blue light of her optics flashing. "Don't tell me you're backing out. You lost."
"No need for that." Neo smiled faintly and reached into his jacket.
When the pile of data chips spilled into his hand, Lucy froze.
Her jaw slackened.
"You… took all of them?" she asked in disbelief. "You finished car eight already?!"
Neo nodded calmly. "Wasn't hard. So, Miss Lucy, looks like you lost this one."
Lucy clenched her teeth, her pride stinging. She hadn't expected to lose — and definitely not this fast.
"Fine," she muttered. "A bet's a bet."
She counted out two-thirds of the chips she'd collected and handed them over.
Neo raised a brow. "Didn't you say the loser only gives up one-third?"
Lucy shot him a sharp look. "That was part of the bluff, genius. Fair bets have to be balanced — same stakes, same risks. I don't take shortcuts."
Neo chuckled and accepted the chips. "Noted."
Before he could say more, Lucy handed him a small black card.
"Here. That's my contact. Call if you ever need anything — jobs, favors, or… other kinds of help."
The train slowed to a halt.
With the chime of the arriving station, the doors hissed open.
Lucy's eyes lingered on him for just a second — then she turned, melting effortlessly into the exiting crowd, her silhouette vanishing beneath the neon glow of the platform.
Neo blinked.
"...Crap. I think I missed my stop."
He looked around, scratching his head. "Watson District was… which direction again?"
…
That night.
After taking three wrong transfers and nearly boarding the wrong metro line twice, Neo finally managed to stumble back to his small apartment in Watson District.
The elevator was bright, clean, lined with holo-screens blaring advertisements.
"Arasaka introduces the SentiHeart™ v4.2. Live longer. Feel nothing. Financing available in twelve easy payments."
The cheerful voice made Neo sigh.
When the doors slid open at the eleventh floor, he stepped out — and the contrast hit him like a slap.
The hallway beyond was dim and filthy.
Lights flickered, wiring sparked where insulation had melted, and the air stank of smoke and cheap perfume.
The walls were cracked, water dripped from pipes overhead, and rats scurried between piles of junk.
People crowded the corridor — some smoking in corners, others huddled together whispering.
Neon graffiti bled across the walls: "NO FUTURE," "CORPO PIGS DIE," "LOVE IS SYNTH."
This was Night City's reality.
Luxury above; rot below.
As Neo made his way through, women leaned against the walls in revealing clothes, their chrome skin reflecting the dull light.
One stepped into his path, her face half mechanical, eyes glowing faint amber. She smiled, lips painted blood-red.
"Hey, handsome," she purred, voice smooth but synthetic. Her tongue flicked like a servo coil. "Looking for a good time? I'm cheap."
Neo brushed past her without a word, the faint hum of his sword's edge ringing softly at his hip.
Outside, somewhere deep in the city, sirens wailed and gunfire echoed.
The night was alive.
And so was he.