Cyberpunk Edgerunners: David Martinez With A System

The year is 2076, and Night City remains a façade of prosperity—its neon lights masking the dark, corrupt underbelly.

Deep within a derelict hospital in Coronado Farm, located in the eastern Santo Domingo district, a young man sits on a worn-out bench in the hallway.

The flickering white fluorescent lights above crackle, occasionally sparking as they struggle to cast their dim glow onto his pale, expressionless face. His forehead is wrapped in bandages, his torn-up jacket barely holding together, as if he had just walked away from a terrible accident.

Standing before him is a masked doctor, droning on like an incessant mosquito, but the young man isn't paying attention.

Because none of that matters.

"I… transmigrated?" Lowering his gaze to his own hands, he feels the confusion creeping in, his face shifting into one of utter disbelief.

He was just sleeping peacefully at home, so how the hell did he suddenly wake up in a different world?

"Huh? What did you say?" The doctor in front of him seems to have caught his murmuring, instinctively asking.

"Hey, are you even listening?"

"Huh? Oh—uh, sorry, what did you just say?" 

The doctor sighs impatiently, rubbing his temples before continuing in his usual emotionless, almost bored tone: "Your mother, Mrs. Gloria Martinez, underwent a successful surgery. However, she is still unconscious and has yet to regain awareness."

"We'll keep her under observation for a few days, and once her condition stabilizes, we can proceed with the discharge procedures." The doctor keeps talking, but the young man isn't listening anymore.

Instead, his attention is laser-focused on one name.

"Gloria Martinez?" His lips tremble slightly as he repeats the name in his mind.

'Why… does that sound so familiar?' Suddenly, a realization struck him like a bolt of lightning. His eyes widened in shock.

"Wait a second… No way!" Without another word, he bolted toward the restroom, leaving the confused doctor behind.

"Did he hit his head too hard?" The doctor muttered to himself, watching the young man panic and run off. "I should've admitted him as well."

Then, as if losing interest, the doctor's gaze shifted toward the dilapidated hospital room nearby. "Hmph. Probably another broke idiot like his mother. Not a single valuable implant." There was a trace of disappointment in his voice, but he was used to this.

After all, this was Santo Domingo, a district as poor as the African Wastes.

If that woman had any high-value implants, there's no way she'd be dumped in a place like this. The Trauma Team vultures would've swarmed her before she even hit the ground.

With that thought, the doctor carelessly tossed Gloria Martinez's belongings onto the floor and walked away.

"Tch. No point wasting time on some broke kid who can't even afford his medical bills. There are still plenty of 'patients' waiting for me."

SLAM!

The restroom door swung open violently, slamming against the wall.

Immediately, a putrid stench assaulted his nostrils—an overwhelming mix of stale sewage, mildew, and something far worse.

It smelled like a drain clogged for decades, a miasma of human waste and decay, strong enough to make a grown man gag.

The place was beyond filthy, an absolute biohazard.

The flickering fluorescent light barely illuminated the cramped, unsanitary space, casting weak shadows over the piles of crumpled, brown-stained tissues scattered across the floor.

A pink, cup-shaped object that resembled an old instant ramen cup lay abandoned nearby.

And further ahead… there were unspeakable things.

A mosaic of filth that no sane person would want to look at.

Compared to this, the crumbling, abandoned hallway outside felt like paradise.

But there was no time to hesitate.

There was something urgent he needed to confirm.

Taking a deep breath, he covered his mouth and nose and forced himself inside.

Carefully navigating through the filth, he reached the dirty, cracked sink.

Then he looked up.

His breath hitched.

"Holy sh—"

Staring back at him from the high-tech, digital mirror, was a face he knew all too well.

A pale-skinned boy, his forehead wrapped in layers of bandages.

A face he had seen before.

A face that shouldn't be his.

His face was bruised and swollen, yet beneath the injuries, traces of youthful determination remained.

A bandage-like strip covered the bridge of his nose.

But the most distinctive feature? That Mohawk-like spiky haircut.

"H-How… how is this possible?"

Stumbling backward in disbelief, he barely stopped himself from stepping into a pile of censored filth by mere inches.

His mind spiraled as he staggered out of the filthy restroom, making his way back to the bench.

With a thud, he collapsed onto the seat, slumping against the railing, his lifeless gaze fixed on the discolored, cracked ceiling.

His expression was one of pure existential dread.

When he first recognized the familiar surroundings, he had already suspected where he had ended up.

But never in his worst nightmares did he expect to wake up as David Martinez.

Sure, hearing the name Gloria Martinez had given him a bit of a heads-up, but actually seeing himself in the mirror was something else entirely.

"This is… way too fucked up."

Of all people, why David Martinez?!

If he had started as a Corpo rat… hell, even as a lowly street drifter, he could have used his knowledge to carve out a solid life in Night City.

But David?

This kid was weak as hell!

Sure, he'd admit, he wanted a taste of Lucy, but let's be honest—V barely survived because of the Relic, while David?

The guy nearly died from a single military-grade implant!

"Life really isn't fair. Some people get top-tier implants, and others—like David—can barely handle the scraps."

And if his memory wasn't failing him, wasn't this the moment right after David and Gloria's car accident?

"So… I start by losing my mom?"

"What is this? A Quantum Destiny orphanage opening?"

"Am I seriously getting the classic 'parents sacrificed to the RNG gods' start?"

To tell him he had to become Night City's next legend with this fragile body was like asking Rebecca to wear Lucy's bra.

Would Rebecca fit?

Did he fit?

What the hell am I even thinking?

Huh?!

Huh?!

The series of questions flooding his mind made his future seem even darker than Night City's back alleys.

Then, his gaze fell on the black bag beside the bench.

"Oh… at least I still have this."

With a swift motion, he unzipped the bag, revealing a yellow industrial jumpsuit.

It was Gloria's work uniform—but more importantly, hidden inside was something far more valuable.

A Sandesvistan.

Not just any cyberware, but an actual military-grade implant, previously owned by a Cyberpsycho.

Though it was just a low-tier military model, it still represented the pinnacle of cybernetic engineering.

Originally, Gloria had stolen it from a corpse, intending to sell it to make ends meet.

But now…

"Wait."

A horrifying realization struck him like a thunderbolt.

If this was Santo Domingo's only hospital, then it should have been the old Red Cedar Psychiatric Hospital.

A hospital that was abandoned and taken over by Scavengers.

Which meant…

Gloria Martinez didn't die from her injuries.

She was harvested by those organ-trafficking bastards.

If that were the case… shouldn't he still have a chance to save Gloria?

Even though Gloria wasn't his real mother, at least having someone around would make things less lonely…

But then, a bitter laugh escaped his lips.

"Yeah… as if that's possible."

There was no way he could pull it off.

The Scavs were still a full-fledged gang.

Sure, they weren't the most elite, but they were far beyond what his fragile, unaugmented body could handle.

Even if he rushed to Vik right now to install the Sandesvistan, there wouldn't be enough time.

Hell, even if he somehow managed, the Scavs might just flip the tables and rob him instead.

"What a goddamn hopeless start…"

[DING!]

As if answering his silent despair, a cold, mechanical voice suddenly echoed in his mind.

[System binding complete…]

[Cyberpunk: The Fourth Calamity is now at your service.]

"???"

For a long moment, he just sat there, blinking in confusion.

Then, realization hit.

"Holy shit—it's here!"

The greatest ally of all transmigrators had finally arrived!