Cyberpunk: Asuka Vektor

Asuka woke with a jolt, her surroundings a blur, pain radiating through her arms and legs like fire coursing through her veins.

“Oh, look, the little fresh meat has finally woken up,” sneered a voice, dripping with malice.

“Hihihi… good thing she didn’t flatline,” another chimed in, mocking her feeble state.

“It’s not every day you find such pure ganics, especially one so beautiful. She could be a real preem for a BD—”

Before the words could finish, a massive arm smashed through the door, destroying the metal and sending debris flying.

“What—”

“Boom!” A shotgun blast erupted, silencing the voice as it sent a spray of blood and brain matter across the floor.

“Choom… wai—”

“Boom!” Another shot rang out, followed by a third, each echoing in the now quiet room.

As the chaos subsided, Asuka felt herself lifted, cradled gently as if she were a precious artifact.

“These bastards… They wanted to install dirty prosthetics on my daughter,” a voice rumbled, fierce and protective. Just as she fought to stay awake, darkness enveloped her once more.

“Ugh…” Asuka groaned as she blinked, struggling to focus. Gradually, her vision sharpened, transforming the dim surroundings from a pixelated haze into crisp clarity, as if everything had shifted from 180p to 4K resolution.

She found herself in a basement, tools lining the walls and lights. Strapped to some kind of chair, she attempted to stand but faltered, nearly falling.

At that moment, a man sprang from a desk, his attention torn from the boxing match on screen. “Asuka, take it easy!” he urged, worry etched on his face.

She squinted at him, recognition dawning. “Viktor Vektor?” she managed.

His expression shifted to one of profound concern. “Yes, it’s me—your father.”

In an instant, two sets of memories collided in her mind: one as Asuka Vektor and another from a realm where Viktor was merely a video game character. A surge of enlightenment washed over her, a blinding clarity amid the chaos.

“Old man, what year is it?” she asked, her voice steady despite the whirlwind in her mind.

Victor sighed, relief washing over him. His daughter had always called him that. “It’s 2068.”

Shock rippled through her, tempered by a sense of relief. “Nine years before the plot.”

“What happened?” Asuka asked, her gaze drifting to her hands and legs, now adorned with sleek pink cyberware with silver lines.

“Scavengers,” Viktor replied, his voice thick with fury, an intensity she rarely witnessed in him. “Those gonks kidnapped you to get back at me, thinking they could play high and mighty.”

As her eyes lingered on the cyberware, a memory flickered in her mind. “Those are the ones I chose,” she murmured, a mix of pride and regret flooding her.

“Yes, the ones I didn’t let you chip,” Viktor replied, his expression darkening with sorrow. The weight of his choices hung heavy in the air; he felt responsible for forcing his daughter into this world of chroming.

Asuka’s heart ached at the thought. She knew she had desired this enhancement but not after scavengers chopped her legs and arms, even now she fells pain a little, but it’s easier after Victor treated her.

“Take this,” Viktor said, offering her an inhaler.

Asuka accepted it, puffing twice, relief washing over her almost instantly. “You still need rest,” he reminded her gently.

Just then, a young man entered the basement, concern etched on his face. “Hey, Vik, is Asuka good?”

“Hey, kid, she’s all good,” Viktor replied.

Asuka’s heart leapt as she recognized him from her memories—her childhood friend and a character she had once cried for. “Jackie?”

“Chica, you’re awake! I was scared you wouldn’t come back,” Jackie exclaimed, his surprise morphing into anger. “Those fucking scavengers are going to pay.”

Trying to lighten the mood, Asuka quipped, “How did Camilla let you come?”

Jackie puffed out his chest, attempting to look suave. “I have a way with the ladies.”

Asuka couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, sure.”

“Mama Wells is really worried,” Jackie said, his tone serious. “And Camilla? I wouldn’t exactly call her worried. You know how she is.”

“I know,” Asuka replied, recalling how Camilla had always seen her as competition, resenting their friendship and Mama Wells’ affection for her.

“You can tell Mama Wells I’m okay. She doesn’t need to make me an ofrenda,” Asuka added, a hint of humor in her voice.

Jackie’s gaze drifted to her chrome. “Aside from that, nice nova chrome you’ve got there! I see it’s your favorite color. Personalized?”

“Yes,” Asuka said, admiring her new limbs, a mix of pride and relief flooding her.

“Nova,” Jackie confirmed, impressed.

“Kids, I don’t want to interrupt, but I need to check on Asuka,” Viktor interjected, his focus shifting back to the screen. “Asuka, do you feel pressure in your nerves or any discomfort?”

Knowing this was a routine check-up to assess her body’s adaptation to the chrome, she replied confidently, “Nope, I feel nova, preem, or cool—like you say, old timer.”

“Nothing at all?” Viktor pressed, concerned.

“Yes, nothing. They feel like part of me,” Asuka said, moving her legs and arms with ease.

“Strange,” Viktor muttered, glancing at the readings on his screen. “Your parameters match what you say. After you recover, we need to run some tests.”

“Well, I guess we just wait,” Asuka said, trying to steady her racing thoughts. “So, Jackie, how’s your mercenary career treating you?”

Jackie straightened up, a proud glint in his eyes. “You know, I’ve been picking up some jobs for Padre. And I even snagged a couple of gigs from Wakako Okada herself.”

“Oh, the lady of Westbrook!” Asuka replied, genuine admiration creeping into her voice. “Looks like you’re really chasing that Night City legend dream.”

“Yeah, I’m working my way up!” Jackie said, a grin spreading across his face. “Just trying to make a name for myself, you know?”

Asuka couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. “I can see it now: ‘Jackie Welles, Night City Legend!’ Just remember, when you hit it big, don’t forget your old friend.”

“Never! You’ll be right there with me, chica,” he replied, determination shining in his eyes. “We’re in this together, right?”

“Together?” Asuka asked, raising an eyebrow as she studied Jackie.

Jackie scratched the back of his head, a hint of embarrassment creeping in. “Well, I need a choom to run some jobs with me, and I thought of you.”

Asuka smirked. “You don’t think my old man would kill you first?”

Viktor glanced up from his screen, a weary sigh escaping him. “You can do it, Asuka. You’re eighteen now; you’re not a child anymore. Besides,” he added with a wry smile, “I believe you have enough intelligence to survive.”

Jackie chuckled, “See? Even your dad has faith in you. What do you say, Asuka? Ready to make some noise in Night City?”

“Yeah, yeah… but first, let me recover, choom,” Asuka replied, exhaustion creeping into her voice.

“Right, chica,” Jackie said with a nod. “I need to bounce—Camilla's calling. I’ll swing by tomorrow to check on you.” He shot her a reassuring smile before heading out of Viktor’s ripperdoc basement.

Asuka turned to her father, curiosity etched on her face. “You’re really serious about letting me be a mercenary?”

Viktor met her gaze, his expression solemn. “Yes. I can’t limit you anymore. Even if I tried to shield you from this life, those scavengers proved you’re already in it.” He stood up, the weight of his thoughts evident. “And if I’m right, I’ll be even more relieved tomorrow.”

Fast forward to the next day, Asuka stood tall, testing her new cyberware.

“Swish!” A mantis blade ejected from her right arm, followed by another from her left. “Swish!” She smiled, feeling the power surge through her. “Swish!” Two more blades shot out from her legs, gleaming menacingly.

“I’m surprised you don’t feel anything,” Viktor said, watching her with a mix of awe and concern. “Those are military-grade—higher than what most veterans would handle without discomfort.”

“Yeah, they feel like part of me,” Asuka replied, confidently slashing the air. In her enthusiasm, she accidentally sliced through one of Viktor’s treasured trophies. “Oops!”

“Ugh…” Victor sighed, exasperation mingling with fondness. This wasn’t the first time Asuka had been a troublemaker.

As she carefully picked up the shattered pieces and placed them on the table for repair, she glanced at her father. “So, what do you say, old man?”

Viktor sighed again, eyeing the damaged trophy with a touch of sadness. “I suspect you have a high tolerance, but we need more time to be sure.”

Asuka’s excitement bubbled over. “I’m special!” she declared, striking a pose and inadvertently hitting another trophy. “Bam!”

“Oops!” she exclaimed, watching it wobble precariously.

Victor’s eyes widened in exasperation. “Please, don’t go near the trophies again, Asuka.”

“Okay, okay,” she laughed, retreating a step back, a playful grin on her face.

Viktor softened, shaking his head. “You can head to the apartment, take a shower, and get some rest. You’ve earned it.”

“Sounds like a plan!” Asuka replied, her energy unwavering as she made her way to the door.

As Viktor watched his daughter leave, he found himself speechless. He loved Asuka more than anything, but she was a whirlwind of chaos—childish and impulsive, much like her mother had been. That same fiery spirit, the blend of aggression and reckless joy, was what made Asuka unpredictable.

A part of him worried, knowing how dangerous Night City could be, especially for someone like her. But another part, the one that trusted her strength and resilience, knew she had the potential to thrive in this brutal world.

He sighed, glancing at the broken trophies.

“She’s going to be one hell of a legend, a living one,” Viktor muttered to himself, both proud and anxious.

Asuka stood under the shower, the hot water streaming down her skin, soothing her. After a moment, she stepped out, catching her reflection in the mirror. She paused, admiring herself.

“Are these things even natural?” she mused aloud, squeezing her breast playfully. “Natural,” she confirmed, a smirk forming on her lips. Then, with a shift of her stance, she turned to examine her hips and ass, her hand resting on her curves. “And this?” she asked, squeezing her backside. “Natural,” she echoed, her expression now serious but also playful.

Staring at her reflection, her sky-blue irises glowing slightly under the bathroom light, she frowned in thought. “How could anyone hurt someone like me?” she murmured. “Such a beautiful and cute girl.” There was a hint of arrogance in her voice, but it felt earned—Asuka was aware of her beauty, and in Night City, sometimes that was as much a weapon as any blade but dangerous like a double edged one.

Her gaze lingered on her face, framed by her long, straight light-brown hair, which cascaded down to her thighs. The hime cut she kept so meticulously—a nod to tradition in a world drowning in chrome—gave her a refined, almost regal look, with cheek-long sidelocks and a perfectly straight fringe.

While admiring her reflection, Asuka noticed a small notification blink in the corner of her vision. Jackie was calling.

“What’s up, choomba?” she asked, still glancing at herself in the mirror.

“I swung by Vik’s,” Jackie said, his voice casual but warm. “He told me you were upstairs and looking sharp. You’ve recovered well! Thought we could grab a bite at Joe’s. You down?”

Asuka smiled. “Yeah, I could go for some real food. Let me get dressed, and I’ll meet you downstairs.”

“Alright, chica. I’ll be waiting,” Jackie replied before the call disconnected.

After drying her long, light-brown hair and running her fingers through the sleek strands to style them just right, Asuka moved to her closet. Her dad’s apartment was surprisingly spacious—especially for Night City standards. Not cramped like the megabuilding cells most people were stuck with. She ran her hand over the array of clothes, eyeing the different outfits.

“What should I wear?” Asuka murmured, her eyes sweeping across the endless sea of clothes hanging in her closet.

She sighed, frowning at the vibrant collection. “Why do I have so many skimpy outfits... and why are they all almost pink?” she asked herself, though she knew exactly why—her love for bold, eye-catching style had always leaned towards that color.

After a few minutes of sifting through her wardrobe, she settled on something that, by her standards, was considered modest: pink booty shorts and a matching pink top. It clung to her curves but wasn’t as revealing as some of her other options.

Glancing in the mirror, she gave herself one last look, smoothing out her hair and adjusting the hem of her top. “Not bad... for a casual day.”