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I hear an alarm blaring in my head. I wake up and look around. I see a heads-up display in my eyes, following where I'm looking. It's a familiar apartment—V's apartment style from Cyberpunk. A crappy bed that's just comfortable enough to sleep on. I see a whole bunch of stuff lying around—a well-lived-in apartment.
I finally focus on the HUD, and I see it says:
[Welcome to your new world and system interface. You may allocate your points now.]
It shows the starting amount of points for a brand new character in Cyberpunk. As I see this, I think about the hundreds of hours I've spent playing—redoing missions with different builds—and the story of David, V, and all the different people and factions outside of even the game and anime that I will now encounter.
I start thinking about the most successful builds I made. Then, a burning question hits me, and I ask the system:
"What is the level limit for this system?"
It responds with a text box:
[Level 93]
I do the math and say, "So I can max four attributes out." I take a moment, then ask again:
"How many perk points will I be able to accumulate?"
[Enough for every perk in the attribute trees you unlock.]
I nod and laugh maniacally. "This is insane. I love it."
I put all seven attribute points into Body for a start, and I feel my body literally start rebuilding itself to be better. I feel my muscles shifting to match my new stats. I groan. It's not painful, but it's not exactly pleasant either.
I look into the mirror at my body. It's now lean and defined—basically what you'd expect a trained soldier to look like coming out of basic training, if they were skinny before they went in.
I take notice of my features: short, spiky silver hair with black highlights; red eyes with a white ring around the pupils; and a very handsome face, looking about 18 years old. I glance down my pants and grin.
Let's go, isekai buff.
I check the closet—basic black clothes. I check the armory. Empty, except for a bat, a knife, and a charge shotgun with ammo. I see the 120% mod on the shotgun and a mag attachment for quick-loading slugs. I load it and strap it into my leg holster.
Then I do a basic search from my HUD for Gloria Martinez, EMT. I find some basic info about her employer and a link to the company's page. There are links to the workers' personal holo pages—I click hers and send an urgent request.
It gets accepted immediately. A message pops up:
"Who are you? What do you want?"
I reply:
"I'm just trying to talk to you about your son and his future with Arasaka."
She holo calls me.
I say, "Hello, Ms. Martinez. I want to meet you—you can pick the place."
She replies harshly, "Oh really? Some asshole thinks he can demand me to meet him about my son?"
I respond quickly, "I'm just trying to inform you about what is going to happen to that Sandevistan if you don't meet me quickly."
She hangs up.
A moment later, a text appears with an address to Tom's Diner.
I head out, down to the transport train entrance outside my apartment, shotgun on my leg. As I wait, I start thinking:
How the hell am I going to convince her that I'm trying to help?