Cyberpunk: STRAY

The car's engine purred like a predator, eating up the streets as Aurore sped through Night City's veins. Vincent sat in the passenger seat, barely registering the world around him—just the burn in his side, the sharp taste of blood in his mouth. He was alive.

That was all that mattered, for now.

Aurore kept her eyes on the road, but her fingers were trembling as she pulled up a direct comm line. Aymeric's face flashed on the holo—sharp jaw, ever-calm expression, the kind of man who looked like he'd never broken a sweat in his life. He had his own aura—dangerous, but disciplined.

"Aurore?" he said(in French), a hint of concern creeping into his voice. "What the hell's going on?"

"Arasaka's on our tail," Aurore snapped, keeping her voice low, though her knuckles were white as she gripped the wheel. "Vincent fucked up. He's the one who delivered the shard, and now they're gunning for him. I need backup."

Vincent's head snapped up. "What the hell do you mean backup?"

He could barely form the words, still catching his breath. "I didn't fuck anything up. They just thought they could scare me and I wasn't having it." : Arrogant, he is...

Aurore shot him a look—one of those looks that made you feel like you were half an inch away from being kicked out of the car, but she didn't say anything. Her focus was on Aymeric.

"So... what now?" Aymeric asked, his voice cool as always. "You want me to have Hansen deal with it?"

Aurore hesitated, glancing at Vincent, then back at the road. Her jaw tightened.

"No. We need to deal with it, before we get fucked too, but we can't let those corpo bastards push us into a corner. I need a plan—something smooth, fast." She exhaled sharply. "I'm heading to Dogtown."

Aymeric's brow furrowed. "Dogtown?"

"Yeah. We had a deal with Hansen remember? He can help me get out of this mess. I'll need you to back me up when I make the damm deal." Aurore's grip on the wheel loosened just a little, but there was no mistaking the weight of her decision. "You have to be there, Aymeric. I can't do this alone."

Aymeric stared at her for a long moment before nodding. "Fine. Just... be careful."

The line went dead. Aurore didn't waste a second. She pushed the car faster, finally crossing the gate of Dogtown.

The streets of Dogtown were a far cry from the gleaming neon of the city's more polished sectors. The air was thick with the smell of oil, sweat, and gunpowder. Broken holoscreens flickered in alleyways, and every building seemed to lean a little too far into the street, like it was on the verge of collapsing.

Vincent shifted in his seat, glancing out the window. This place felt like it was ready to swallow you whole. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been in Dogtown, but he knew it wasn't a place where you walked around with your chest puffed out.

Aurore drove them through the backstreets, stopped by an old warehouse, weaving between rusted cars and old warehouses that had seen better days. Her brother Aymeric was waiting for them there angry at the dent on his car's hood Aurore's taken, but he got into the car anyway, didn't asked a questions as Aurore takes off.

It wasn't long before they reached their destination—a low, shadowed stadium, known as the

Nighthawks Stadium, a dilapidated sporting arena now, as at the end of Harry S. Truman street. Neon lights buzzed overhead, and the only sign of life was a few figures loitering by the entrance. Mercs, Fixers, a few Barghest soldiers. The usual types.

Aurore parked the car and looked at Vincent. "Stay close."

Vincent nodded, but he couldn't help but feel a twinge of unease. Dogtown wasn't the safest place. But it wasn't the worst, either. And he had a feeling this was going to be a whole new level of shitshow.

Aurore stepped out of the car first, her heels clicking against the cracked pavement as she walked toward the door. Vincent followed behind her, trying to ignore the pulse in his skull as he wondered just what kind of game she was getting him involved in now.

The door to the building opened with a low groan. Two confused Barghest soilders in the hallway looked at them and one whispered to another"Ay dude look, didn't they just walked in an hour ago?" "I don't know man you tripping" replied the another soldier. The scent of cigars and stale beer wafted out, thick as smoke. Aurore stepped inside, and Vincent followed her into the dimly lit room.

At the center, Hansen was sitting in the couch, a bar behind him—dressed in his usual black suit, looking like he belonged in an entirely different world..to Vincent at least.

His sharp eyes flicked over to Aurore, then to Vincent, and his lip curled into a frown that didn't looked too good.

"What the fu.. " Hansen's voice was cool, almost mocking. "Vincent, right? Funny seeing you here."

Aurore cut through the tension, her voice cutting clean. "Hansen. I'm here for a favor." and then she realized..Her and her brother's biometric codes were stolen somehow, but the fact that they could've been killed and get their biometric codes and data stolen too, it terrifies her...

When they rounded the final corner, the chill in the air became unbearable.

"What the hell…?"

There, sitting casually at a table in the center of the room, were two people— imposters, looks and acts just like Aurore and Aymeric.

The sight was disorienting. At first, Vincent couldn't process it. But then, it clicked. They weren't the real ones. They couldn't be.

Standing there were V—the mercenary, the one who'd crossed paths with Vincent before, and Alena Xenakis, an undercover FIA agent. They both had shapeshifting tech embedded under their skin—tech that could mimic another person's appearance perfectly.

Vincent didn't know whether to be amazed or disgusted by the precision of it. Vincent looked at Aymeric behind him, Aymeric now not knowing what to do about it, jus stood there.

The imposter Aurore sat back in a chair, her arms crossed, looking every bit the part, except for one thing: the eyes. There was no familiar spark, no sharpness.

"Well, fuck.." V (disguised as Aurore) said, her voice smooth and calm, but without the usual cold edge that Aurore carried. "I thought you'd come eventually. But I didn't think it would be this soon."

The second Aymeric, dressed in his usual way, leaned casually against the wall, a holo-pad in hand. "You're shitting me." The voice was off, flat. But it was Alex—a perfect imitation of Aymeric's usual demeanor.

The shock hit Vincent like a punch to the stomach. They were playing a game, but he wasn't part of it. These weren't just imposters—one of them was a mercenary and one's an FIA agent, working for someone with the kind of resources to clone identities in a heartbeat.

Aurore stepped forward, her eyes narrowing. "Who the hell are you people?"

The answer came in the form of Hansen, who emerged from the shadows, his hands in his pockets, a small smirk playing at his lips.

"You didn't think you were the only ones playing this game, did you?" Hansen said, his voice calm but with an underlying venom. "Fine, so..."

Aurore's jaw clenched. "This isn't happening," she said, her tone low, a dangerous calm in her voice.

The situation had shifted too quickly. Thoughts echoed in Vincent's head. This wasn't just a meeting—it was a setup. They'd walked right into the trap.

The chaos in the room had shifted into an all-out firefight. The metallic clatter of gunfire filled the air, as V and Alex (still disguised as Aymeric and Aurore) opened fire, their shots echoing off the concrete walls, killing Murphy, the Berghest soilder on the spot The world was a blur—flashes of light, the screams of gunfire, the sound of metal slamming into walls, and bodies ducking and diving for cover.

Vincent had no gun. No real way to defend himself. He wasn't a soldier. He wasn't trained for this. But that didn't matter now. He was here—caught in the middle of it all—and he couldn't run. Aurore was already moving, using her instincts and training to shield them both, but even she wasn't much of a fighter herself, visibly rattled, her eyes flicking between V and Alex. They were professionals. The kind of people you didn't play around with.

"Stay low, stay close!" Aurore barked, grabbing Vincent's arm and yanking him toward the back of the room.

Vincent's heart pounded in his chest. Every step, every second felt like an eternity. But it wasn't just the gunfire that made him sweat. It was the fear—the stark, cold realization that he didn't have the ability to survive this. Not like Aurore. Not like anyone else in this godforsaken city.

"Aurore, we need to go!" Vincent hissed, trying to yank his arm from her grip. "We can't—"

But before he could finish his sentence, there was a deafening crack—the unmistakable sound of a bullet ripping through flesh.

Aymeric—the real Aymeric, not the imposter—had made a move to help, had tried to intervene, but it was too late. He was down. He didn't even get a chance to scream. His body hit the floor with a sickening thud, blood spilling out onto the concrete, his brain turned into a mush staining the cold, lifeless cheap carpet of the room.

Aurore froze. Her eyes went wide as she saw her brother fall.

"Aymeric!" she cried, her voice cracking. Her emotions—raw, broken—fueled by the tragedy of losing him in such a brutal, unforgiving way.

She turned to Vincent, her face etched with disbelief. "We have to get out of here," Vincent said, his voice was shaky, filled with desperation and fear. There was no time for grief, no time to look back.

Aurore could barely register it. Aymeric—her brother, her family—had just been taken from her in the blink of an eye. But this wasn't about mourning. This was about survival.

The shootout intensified. V and Alex were closing in, working as a perfect team, moving with precision, cutting off every possible escape route.

Vincent and Aurore were cornered. They were outgunned, outnumbered, and Vincent felt the weight of their situation, the crushing inevitability of it all. He couldn't fight back. He didn't have the skill, the resources—nothing.

But he did have the guts...

He pushed Aurore toward a narrow hallway at the back of the warehouse. "Go!" he screamed, eyes wild, his hand reaching out to push her ahead. "RUN!!"

She hesitated, knowing what it meant. he was going to stay behind. he was going to face them alone. She couldn't let him do that.

But there was no time to argue. V was closing in.

Vincent bolted down the hallway, hearing the rapid pounding of Aurore's boots behind him getting further. The sound of gunfire filled the air, and he thought he heard her shout his name, but he didn't dare look back.

closing in on Vincent. It wasn't about Biz anymore—this was personal. Vincent had become the thorn in their side, and they intended to remove him, no matter what.

But it wasn't just V and Alex who had shown up to play. Hansen, the elephant in the room, the Colonel with a history of pulling strings from the shadows, had entered the fray, blowing the brains out of Alex's head, gun blazing.

And now the situation had escalated.

Vincent felt the weight of it. His palms were clammy, his pulse thundering in his ears. He wasn't trained for this. He wasn't a fighter. He was just an ordinary kid trying to survive, trying to stay unnoticed. Yet here he was, caught in the crossfire of a war between the Mercs.

Aurore rushed back to him as he got away from the fight, grabbed his arm, dragging him through the narrow alley of the streets just beside the stadium. But the sound of Hansen's voice cut through the noise, sharp and menacing.

"You think you can run, kid?" V's voice was mocking, almost amused, as he emerged from the shadows. "You think you can just walk away from this?"

Vincent's eyes darted around, heart hammering. He felt a presence behind him, and before he could react, V came out from the other side, blocking the exit.

V's posture was relaxed, but Vincent could feel the intensity radiating off of her. She wasn't here to talk.

"Don't worry, kid," she said, her voice low and dangerous. "This won't take long."

Before Vincent could even process it, Hansen stepped forward, a sinister grin stretching across his face. "This kid's got nothing to do with this.." His voice was cold, calculating, as if he were about to enjoy this.

Aurore, her expression anxious, positioned herself behind Vincent. Her gun was raised, but she knew it wasn't enough to stop the fight that was coming. She wasn't an idiot; she knew that she and Vincent had just become pawns in something much bigger.

But she wasn't going down without a fight.

"When I tell you to run, we run ok?" Aurore whispered to Vincent.

He nodded, instinctively, but there was no real safety behind her. The odds were stacked against them. There was no way out.

"Let's finish this, then." V's voice broke through the tension. Her gun was already in her hand, and before anyone could react, she raised it toward Hansen. It was a full on Mexican standoff with Vincent infront of Aurore as the meat-shield and people aiming their guns at each others.

The first shot hit the wall beside Hansen, but V wasn't aiming for him. It was a distraction. A distraction so that She could move. V disappeared into the shadows as quickly as she appeared, her footfalls silent but deadly.

Hansen spun, moving with deadly precision, his gun coming up as he tracked her movements. shooting multiples rounds at her as she jumping roof to roof witht he double-jump implants His sharp eyes never left her. "You can't hide from me," he growled, clearly pissed now.

Aurore kept her gun raised, but she was trying to stay out of the crossfire between the Colonel and the Merc. Vincent, frozen in place, felt the reality of the situation crashing down.

He was just a kid—this wasn't his fight.

But there was no choice now.

Hansen and V were locked in their own deadly dance, after Hansen lost sight ot V after a good'ol dodging, weaving, trading shots in a brutal exchange of violence. Vincent could hear the soft crack of bullets hitting the walls, the occasional scream of pain from the injured Barghest soldiers. Hansen seemed pissed.

V was a force of nature, while V was agile, almost supernatural, ducking, rolling, and returning fire with calculated speed as she escaped.

The fight ended. Vincent had never been this close to violence before. The sound of gunshots, the smell of burning metal, the sharp tang of fear in the air—it all felt like a nightmare.

Hansen was left standing, confused, his hand still on his gun, ready for another round. But V's plan wasn't to kill him. It was to escape.

He fired a few more rounds in V's direction, clearly angry..

Aurore seized the opportunity. "Vincent! We need to go!" she shouted, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him toward the exit. "Now!"

Vincent barely had time to react. The adrenaline coursing through his veins made his legs feel like jelly, but Aurore's grip was firm. They dashed down the narrow hallway, past abandoned crates and old machinery, all while the sounds of the fight continued to rage behind them.

"This way!" Aurore snapped, pulling him through a side door and out into the back alley.

It was dark. Wet. The kind of night that felt suffocating.

But they didn't stop. They couldn't.

Aurore's hand was tight around his wrist, dragging him into the maze of alleys that ran through Dogtown, their footsteps echoing off the graffiti-covered walls.

Vincent's mind was still reeling. He couldn't wrap his head around what had just happened. Hansen, V, Alex, Aymeric's head exploding right before his eye.. He was just a kid, caught up in a world of violence and betrayal.

They hadn't won yet. Not by a long shot. But they were out.

"We can't stay here," Aurore said, her voice urgent but calm. "We need to get out of Dogtown. Get to somewhere safe, they'll come for me, and you're in this too."

Vincent didn't argue. He didn't even know if safe was possible in Night City anymore.

Meanwhile one of the Barghest soldier aimed a rifle at Aurore and Vincent's direction from a far and asked Hansen "Should I flatline them boss?" 

Hansen gawked at him.."Stand-down, our deal's off now, Aymeric is dead. leave them be... for now.."

But one thing was certain. This wasn't over....