As I fumbled with the gun, Skaya's voice snapped me back to reality. "Ryker, put that away. Don't be silly," she said, her tone a mix of exasperation and amusement.

Feeling slightly embarrassed, I tucked the gun out of sight. "Yeah, sure. I guess I got a bit carried away."

Skaya nodded towards the door. "If you're feeling up to it, we should head to your apartment where you and Danny was last time."

The mention of Danny sent a pang of worry through me. "Right. Danny," I muttered, feeling the weight of responsibility. I needed to know if he was okay, if he had made it out.

As we prepared to leave, I turned to Dr. Ito. "Thanks for patching me up, Doc. I owe you one."

Dr. Ito simply nodded, his expression unreadable. "Just take care of yourself, Ryker. And try to stay out of trouble."

Skaya thanked the ripperdoc as well, her gratitude genuine. As we stepped out of the clinic into the bustling streets of Japantown, I felt a mix of relief and apprehension. The city seemed more menacing than before, as if it held secrets I was yet to uncover. As we walked, a question that had been nagging me finally found its way out. I grabbed Skaya's arm, a little more forcefully than I intended. "Why are you helping me, Skaya? I don't even know you, and you keep showing up at the right place and the right time. What's in it for you?"

Skaya's eyes narrowed, a flicker of anger passing through them as I held her arm. She stepped closer to me, her face inches from mine. "You really don't remember, do you? That night at the bar?"

Her question caught me off guard. I wracked my brain, trying to sift through the foggy memories of recent nights out. But nothing came to mind, just a blur of neon lights and the clink of glasses. "No, I... I don't remember," I admitted, feeling a twinge of guilt. Had I really forgotten an encounter with her?

Her expression softened slightly, but she maintained her intense gaze. "Fine. We'll talk about it at your flat. There's more to that night than you realize." Her voice was firm, yet there was an underlying current of something else - was it concern?

As we made our way to my apartment, my mind raced with possibilities. What had happened that night? How did it tie into the chaos that had engulfed my life? Skaya's involvement in all of this was becoming more intriguing and confusing by the minute.

The car's hum was a low, monotonous drone, a stark contrast to the storm of thoughts raging in my head. The neon glow of Japantown's streets streamed through the windows, casting fleeting, colored shadows across Skaya's focused face. I glanced at her, trying to decipher the stoic mask she wore, but she remained an enigma wrapped in the night's ambiguity.

My mind grappled with fragments of a memory I couldn't fully grasp. A bar, the clatter of glasses, muffled laughter — they swirled in my head like phantoms just out of reach. It was maddening, this sense of missing something vital, a piece of a puzzle that could make sense of the chaos I'd been thrown into.

Outside, Japantown thrived in its usual nocturnal rhythm. Neon signs flickered, advertising everything from ramen to high-tech gadgets, their lights dancing across Skaya's face, revealing subtle changes in her expression. Was that a flicker of concern? Regret? It was hard to tell.

I shifted uncomfortably, the seat's synthetic leather sticking to my skin. The city's sounds filtered in — the distant wail of a siren, the hum of hovercars, the occasional burst of laughter from pedestrians. It all felt surreal, like a backdrop to a play in which I was an unwilling actor.

Skaya's silence was a wall I couldn't breach. She drove with a purpose, her eyes occasionally darting to the rearview mirror, as if expecting trouble to follow us. The tension in the car was palpable, an unspoken understanding that whatever she was hiding, it was significant.

"Night City never sleeps, huh?" I tried to fill the silence with idle chatter, but my voice sounded hollow, even to my own ears.

She glanced at me, a ghost of a smile on her lips. "It's always awake, always watching," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. It sounded like a warning, or perhaps a lament.

We turned a corner, and the cityscape changed. The neon became denser, the crowds thicker. Music from a nearby club throbbed in the air, its bass resonating with my own heartbeat.

I leaned my head against the cool window, watching the city pass by in a blur of light and shadow. The images of that night at the bar began to coalesce, but like a dream upon waking, they slipped away as soon as I tried to focus on them.

Skaya's car pulled up to my apartment building, a nondescript structure squeezed between a neon-lit noodle shop and a cyberware clinic. The engine shut off, plunging the car into silence, save for the muted cacophony of the city outside.

"We're here," Skaya said softly, her eyes finally meeting mine. In that brief connection, I saw a depth of emotion she'd been holding back. Concern, yes, but something else too — a guarded vulnerability.

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. "Thanks for the ride," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. As we stepped out of Skaya's car, I couldn't help but glance up at the building that was once my refuge, my home. It loomed above us, a silent witness to the turmoil that had upended my life in recent days. But before I could process the flood of memories, a shrill voice cut through the air, instantly recognizable and grating.

"Mendy Kaminsky," I muttered under my breath, a mix of annoyance and resignation settling in. There she stood, my neighbor, the self-appointed watchdog of our building, armed with complaints and a disapproving scowl.

"Ryker!" she exclaimed, her voice piercing the evening calm. "Do you have any idea of the chaos you caused? The shootout, the noise! It's unacceptable!"

I could feel the eyes of other neighbors on us, their murmurs and whispers creating a chorus of disapproval. Mendy's arms were crossed, her stance defiant, as if she was single-handedly defending the building from the likes of me.

"I... I didn't mean for any of this to happen," I started, trying to find words that would ease the situation.

"It's too late for apologies, Ryker. We've had enough! There's no place for you here anymore," Mendy declared, her tone final.

The words hit me like a physical blow. No place for me? My apartment, my sanctuary, gone? I struggled to keep my composure, my mind racing. "But Danny," I stammered, "What about Danny? He broke into your place, didn't he? After the shootout..."

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

Mendy huffed, rolling her eyes. "Oh, that boy? He was a mess, running down the balcony, screaming like a madman. And then..." Her voice trailed off, a shadow crossing her face. "He got shot, Ryker. Shot and ran off into the night. I don't know where he went after that."

The information hit me like a ton of bricks. Danny, shot and on the run. My heart sank, the weight of guilt and worry pressing down on me. I glanced at Skaya, searching for any sign of what to do next. Skaya's expression was unreadable, but her eyes held a glimmer of understanding. Mendy's litany of complaints continued, her voice rising with each word. The other neighbors murmured in agreement, their collective disapproval like a tangible force pressing in on me. But as Mendy's voice reached a crescendo, something inside me snapped.

"Enough, Mendy!" I shouted, my voice cutting through her tirade like a knife.

Mendy recoiled slightly, taken aback by my outburst. For a moment, I reveled in the quiet, letting the tension drain from my body.

Without another word, I turned on my heel and strode back to Skaya's car. Skaya followed, her footsteps quick and determined.

Once inside the car, the anger that had surged through me began to ebb, leaving behind a mix of guilt and helplessness. Skaya started the car, but before she could pull away, I turned to her, my gaze intense.

"Skaya, you need to tell me what's going on. Who are you, really? Why are you helping me?" My voice was steady, the irony and sarcasm gone, replaced by a sincere need for answers.

Skaya's expression softened, and she turned off the car, giving me her full attention. "Ryker," she began, her voice calm and serious, "there's a lot you don't remember. That night at the bar, we met under... unusual circumstances. Her eyes reflected a seriousness that I hadn't seen before. "Ryker, there are things about that night, things I can't just explain with words. You need to see it for yourself." She held up the braindance device, its sleek interface a gateway to hidden memories. A braindance. It was like stepping into a virtual reality, reliving memories as if they were happening in real time. I eyed the device warily, knowing that it could reveal things I might not be prepared to see.

"You recorded that night?" My voice was a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

"Yes," Skaya replied, her voice steady.

I hesitated, the implications of what she was saying sinking in. Reliving that night could answer many questions, but it could also open a Pandora's box I wasn't sure I was ready for. "Alright, let's do it. But why... why did you record it? Why me?"

Skaya sighed, a hint of frustration in her voice. "I was tracking you, Ryker. You were involved in something... something important. You need to see it, to understand it."

The weight of her words hung in the air. Tracking me? Involved in something important? It sounded like something out of a spy thriller, not my life.

She set up the braindance, attaching the electrodes to my temples. The device beeped softly, indicating it was ready. "You sure about this?" she asked, her hand hovering over the start button.

I nodded, taking a deep breath. "Do it."

She pressed the button, and the world around me faded into blackness, only to be replaced by the vivid scenes of that forgotten night. The braindance enveloped me, a flood of sights, sounds, and emotions that were mine yet felt alien.

As the braindance enveloped my senses, it was disorienting to see the world through Skaya's eyes – like watching a first-person movie where I was both the viewer and the subject. The bar scene was vivid; the neon lights, the cacophony of voices, and the myriad faces were overwhelming. Skaya's focus was clear – she was there for me, weaving through the crowd with a determined grace.

Her cyberware eyes scanned the room, and I felt a strange sense of detachment watching myself from her perspective. There I was, a drunken mess, babbling about codes and beeing solo on a mission. Skaya's patience was evident as she tried to steer me towards the exit. "You're not making any sense. Let's get you some fresh air," she said, her voice calm yet assertive.

So there I was in Skaya's shoes, feeling like I'd just jumped into someone else's skin. Weird doesn't even begin to cover it. I watched myself, Ryker, the bar's star drunk, being led out by Skaya. Trust me, it's an out-of-body experience to see yourself as a stumbling mess through someone else's eyes. Talk about a reality check!

"Time to sober up, Ryker," Skaya's voice echoed in my ears, sounding like a mix between a concerned guardian and a no-nonsense cop. Watching her handle me was like seeing a lion tamer at work, minus the chair and whip.

She whipped out a data port connector, plugging it into my head with the finesse of a tech surgeon. It was a bizarre blend of curiosity and intrusion, like peeking into someone's diary, but the diary is your own brain.

Her eyes narrowed in focus as she probed my neural interface. "You're the one," she muttered. It was surreal, hearing her say that about me, like I was some chosen one in a cyberpunk prophecy. Made me wonder if I should feel important or just very, very concerned.

"Looks like you're worth a few eddies," she added. Watching her realize my value was like witnessing someone find a winning lottery ticket in a dumpster. Confusion meets jackpot.

Then, everything turned black. The familiar chaos of Night City was gone, replaced by an abyss, like stepping into a void. Suddenly, a single line of code appeared, a beacon in the digital darkness.

This code multiplied, spiraling around us – or rather, around Skaya, with me as a spectator in her mind. We were in the eye of a data storm, the likes of which I'd never seen. It felt like a cybernetic wizard had just waved his wand and turned the world into a dance of digits.

The code then morphed into a massive wall, a pulsating monument of light and data. It was like looking at the digital version of the Great Wall of China. "Definitely not your average night out," I thought, trying to inject some of Ryker's humor into Skaya's digital voyage.

Touching the wall felt like plugging into the heartbeat of the net. It was a convergence of reality and cyberspace, a fusion that felt both exhilarating and terrifying.

Just as we were immersed in this digital wonderland, something – or someone – grabbed Skaya's shoulder. I half-expected to turn around and find some iconic cyber entity, but it was just her, facing me. The irony of the situation wasn't lost on me.

Behind us, the wall seemed to react to our presence, shimmering and vibrating with an energy that felt almost alive. "Who are you..." Skaya's voice rang out, filled with a mix of awe and uncertainty.

"So, let me get this straight," I said, leaning back in the car seat with a smirk. "I was your golden ticket to Eddiville, and you just... forgot to cash in? Skaya, you're making bounty hunting look bad."

Skaya shot me a look that could curdle synth-milk. "It wasn't like that, Ryker. After I connected to your neural port, things got... fuzzy. Like trying to remember a dream while you're still dreaming."

I chuckled. "So, what? We had a mystical cyber-bonding moment? Should I feel special or just creeped out?"

"Neither," she replied, her voice a mixture of frustration and concern. "The client wanted you for reasons unknown. And when I didn't deliver, they weren't sending thank-you notes. They wanted to 'dispose' of me."

I whistled. "Dispose, huh? That's a polite way of saying they wanted to turn you into street art. And let me guess, I'm still a hot commodity?"

"Exactly," she said, starting the car. "We're both in this mess now. We need to figure out who's behind this and why you're so important."

"Wait a minute, hold up," I said, chuckling as I unbuckled the seatbelt. "Let's not get all 'we're in this together' just yet. Skaya, darling, your problems with your mysterious client are yours. As charming as this team-up sounds, I've got my own fish to fry."

I opened the car door, stepping out into the neon-soaked night. "And right now, that fish is named Danny."

Skaya's expression turned from frustration to disbelief. "You're just going to walk away? After everything we've just been through?"

I leaned on the open door, giving her my best roguish grin. "Oh, come on, Skaya. You're a big girl, I'm sure you'll figure it out. As for me, I've got a friend to find."

Her eyes flashed with a mix of anger and something else—was it disappointment? "You don't even know where to start looking for Danny," she retorted.

Her frustration was palpable, even as I started walking away. "Ryker!" she called out, her voice sharp enough to cut through the night's buzz. "I might know where Danny is."

I paused, half-turned towards her, a skeptical eyebrow raised. "Now you tell me? What's the catch, Skaya? You suddenly turn into a charity?"

Skaya got out of the car, her posture tense. "No catch. I overheard something while tracking you, a location where Danny might have gone."