Cyberpunk: The Magnet fruit

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It had to be said—living in the same building brought incredible convenience, especially for coordination and rapid response.

Before long, every member of Maine's team had gathered in David's apartment, eager and energetic.

"Mr. David, Jack said you had a mission for us?"

Maine was the first to speak, practically bouncing on his feet with excitement. His tone was full of anticipation, as if he couldn't wait to rush into action. "If there's anything you need, just give the order. We're all ready!"

"Yeah! Just say the word, Mr. David!" Pyrrha chimed in eagerly, slapping her chest with enthusiasm. "Whether it's a mountain of knives or a sea of fire—I'll charge in headfirst for you, no questions asked!"

The room buzzed with energy. Maine and Pyrrha exchanged glances, a mutual fire burning in their eyes. They both knew what was truly at stake here.

This wasn't just any mission. This was a chance to shine in front of David—and earn a coveted set of [Source Plan] armor.

How could they possibly let this opportunity slip through their fingers?

David chuckled, clearly pleased with the enthusiasm of his team. "Good. That's the kind of attitude I like to see."

He then leaned back slightly, his voice casual but firm. "If this mission is completed properly, each of you will receive your very own set of [Source Plan] battle armor."

The team's eyes lit up instantly.

David then turned to the quiet figure at the back of the room—Qiwei. "That includes you too, Qiwei. You've earned it."

Qiwei blinked, stunned. She hadn't even volunteered yet, but David had already acknowledged her role. That was better than a windfall—like winning the lottery without buying a ticket.

Her heart raced, but she kept her cool. "Mr. David, just tell me what needs to be done."

David nodded approvingly and began issuing his instructions.

"Maine, you'll handle the Whirlpool Gang in the North District of Watson."

"Dolio, your task is the Beast Gang operating in the Pacific District."

"Pyrrha, you'll be responsible for two zones—the North Pacific District and the Southern Schönbrunn District."

Finally, he turned to Qiwei. "As for you, you're in charge of checking in with the Voodoo Boys in the Pacific Region."

He paused to let the assignments settle in, then added, "You're not just there to negotiate—you're there to probe. Feel them out. See if they're willing to cooperate. If they are, there will be… significant benefits for everyone involved."

"But if they refuse—or act cocky—" David's tone dropped, a cool menace sliding in beneath the words, "then you know what to do. We confiscate their turf. Simple."

The atmosphere in the room shifted.

Everyone understood.

This wasn't a small-time operation anymore. David was planning to unify the gangs of Night City.

Once, the idea would've been laughable—bordering on delusion. But now? Now it felt possible.

No—inevitable.

Each member of the team could feel it: a storm was coming, and they were going to be the ones riding its winds.

David walked toward the inner room briefly, then returned holding three data chips between his fingers.

He handed them out one by one.

"Maine, this is yours: [Source Project: Obliteration]."

"Pyrrha, yours is [Source Plan: Destruction]."

"And Qiwei… you'll wield [Source Project: United]."

Each chip was small, sleek, and filled with unimaginable power.

These were not ordinary tech enhancements—they were battle armor blueprints extracted from the remains of legendary combat suits, each inspired by figures of myth and digital legend. David had repurposed them based on the team members' fighting styles and personality traits.

Maine's aggressive tank-like approach made him perfect for Obliteration, originally derived from the brutal power of Crocodile Renekton.

Pyrrha, wild and chaotic, resonated with Destruction, which had echoes of the Blood Harbor Ghost Pike.

Qiwei, methodical and strategic, was best suited for United—crafted with the versatility of Ice Archer Ashe in mind.

David gave them a final nod. "Get familiar with the chips. Learn how they function, train with them, and then begin your assignments."

"I expect great things."

Pyrrha held her chip like it was a holy relic. "Mr. David, I swear—I'll give you results that'll make headlines."

Maine's hands were practically trembling as he stared at his chip. "You won't regret trusting us. I swear it."

Qiwei calmly slotted the chip into the port behind her ear. A gentle hum filled the air as it integrated with her neural interface. She let out a soft breath and smiled. "It's been a while since I visited the Voodoo Boys. I'm looking forward to our reunion."

The confidence in her voice sent chills down even Pyrrha's spine.

David watched them all, satisfied.

This wasn't just about consolidating power anymore. This was about building a new kind of force in Night City—a team that didn't just take orders but commanded respect.

They weren't mercs anymore.

They were becoming legends.

A Few Hours Later

Back in his private study, David leaned over a terminal, monitoring the mission progress in real-time. The armor chips were already syncing with the crew's bio-signatures. Each member was now interfacing with tech that could double or even triple their combat output.

Still, power meant nothing without the will to wield it.

David knew this well.

That's why he had chosen them—Maine, Pyrrha, Qiwei—people who had proven themselves time and again under fire, betrayal, and chaos.

Now they'd get to prove themselves again—not just for David's approval but for their own future in the city.

He took a sip from a thermos of black coffee, watching the biometric data streams stabilize.

All systems were green.

The game was on.

In the Streets of Night City

Somewhere in the Watson North District, Maine walked into the Whirlpool Gang's main bar like he owned the place.

He wore a hoodie and combat boots, but beneath that? Obliteration was active.

He smiled.

"Let's talk, boys. I heard you've got territory to spare."

Elsewhere in Schönbrunn, Pyrrha dropped from the roof of a warehouse straight into a gathering of Schönbrunn thugs, brandishing Destruction like it was an extension of her rage. "David sends his regards," she muttered before the fight even began.

In the Pacific Region, Qiwei walked into the Voodoo Boys' stronghold unannounced, calm and deadly.

"You owe me answers," she said coolly. "And maybe your turf."

Back at HQ, David folded his arms, staring out the window at the neon-lit skyline of Night City.

Soon, the pieces would move.

Soon, the world would shift.

And when it did, the name "David" wouldn't just echo in dark alleys—it would be burned into the city's circuits.

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