PRIVATE DeckKRASH

[Esher Hatfield]

It was raining like it always seemed to do whenever Esher ventured out to this part of Night City. It had both advantages and its disadvantages. For one, he could climb over the outer fence without having to bother with the prying eyes of the security guard making his night shift rounds, for he was holed up in the guardhouse looking at the monitors. Night shift at a mid tier corporation didn't pay enough to walk around for hours in toxic rain, after all. The disadvantage was made obvious when, upon landing, Esher slipped on the wet concrete almost dislocated his shoulder on impact. "Fu-h!" he cried breathlessly as he lay there rubbing it shoulder and tasting the slightly sour rain drip onto his face. Next time he was going to say no. That easy. Just say no. There will be other gigs. Other Fixers that needed a netrunner. Maybe even something he could pull off from the inside of a Capitán Caliente while munching on a burger and fries. Anything would be better than creeping around on a secured corpo lot on your own while getting drenched with toxic rain.

Earlier today he had walked out of the office in good spirits. He had cracked the home security of a screamsheet celeb and found all kinds of dirt. Him sleeping with his output's brother, her mom and using her more succesful braindance smut career to fund an ongoing, and growing, black lace addiction. That was something that -he was sure- the media would give him a nice fat bonus for. So, in retrospect, his confidence had been a bit too big to handle. The smartest thing was to get high and buy one of Lina Malina earlier explicit braindances. His favorites. Instead, like the idiot he was, he had answered a call from a local fixer.

Something he fiercely regretted as he pushed himself back up from the concrete and scanned the lot to see a potential access point. It had been presented to him as an easy job with acceptible pay for someone that was never gonna make it to the Afterlife and drink with Legends. That had stung, sure, but it hadn't been untrue. Real legends never made their mark while still working a day job. Real legends didn't chip in for the rent of their parents' megastructure condo. They'd find a bathtub somewhere secluded, boobytrapped the entrance, filled the tub with ice and wouldn't leave the net until the edgerunners in the Afterlife whispered their names in awe. That wasn't Esher. Those guys would never whisper Eccles in awe. He was too afraid of stumbling into multiple Dragon Black Ice while all he got to defend himself was an 'Armor program' from 2045. A program so old it predated the times of neon and would be unable to prevent those dragons from literally burning his brain to ash. Nah, screw that- Esher spotted an access point designed to hook up industrial loaders that moved stuff around on the lot. With any luck he could find a PLC inside he could jack into.

Confident to get there unseen -he knew the security guy with the taser was in the guardhouse watching Moxes Braindance and jerking off- Esher went over the the acces point quickly and pried open the protective cover with a screwdriver. "Okay, let's see-" he took his cyberdeck from inside his jacket, flipped it open and while it booted up jacked it into the access point. "Ready Player One," Esher smiled and put on his virtual reality goggles so he could visualize the local Net Architecture. "Player Profile: Eccles," the smile widened to a grin as he forgot he was sitting outside in the toxic rain at 2 a.m. Right now he was where he wanted to be, he was who he wanted to be; A cyberknight about to breach an enemy lord's castle.

After the interface he ran pathfinder, quickly finding that most of the architecture was locked behind passwords. A worm program allowed him to pass the first password wall rather easily and within a few minutes he had left the Industrial Automation part of the Net architecture behind and was perusing the personnel files of a secretary with a weak password. All he needed to do now was the escalate his priviledges by using the secretaries' rights within the system to try and take control of the mid-level corpo that was tonight's target. Someone in charge of an important deal, apparently, and whoever was on the other side of that deal needed some kind of leverage against him. Cracking his office network was the first step as these kind of corpo's always dealt in bad faith. Eccles ran another pathfinder check, but with a 'See Ya' booster to aid him. He found the target's files, but it was protected by a program and a password, so this was going to get tricky, after all. As Esher envisioned himself as a knight storming a castle, having already passed the moat and first gate, he was now in the courtyard and drew his sword (an anti-program attacker) and sliced at the program defending this layer of the NET architecture. It came apart instantly and fell to the cyber-gridded floors of the castle as Eccles ran another worm and passed the next password-wall with relative ease. This was a thrill! Edgerunners were always in danger of getting their brains blown out, but not him. Not the netrunner doing the smalltime gigs. Esher was 'Sir Eccles' the castle-taking knight in shining armor and he was once again about to take the treasure whe-

"AAAHh!" it felt as if his brain caught fire as his cyberdeck was forceable jacked out of the NET architecture. All he could figure - as he was curled up on the wet concrete floor again- was that he had missed a DeckKRASH hidden somewhere in the architecture, but that meant that the guard would get his braindance interrupted by an alarm, too. Esher had been discovered. His knight-persona had its armor pierced by the crossbow bolt of a hidden castle defender. All he knew now was they had to get himself together as fast as possible. Before the guard could find him. Before whoever he answered to decided whether it was worth it to hand a netrunner to the NCPD or just break his neck and dump him somwhere in the waste field east of the city.

His adrenaline spiking was the only reason Esher was able to return his cyberdeck to his jacket and get up from the floor, ignoring how the sour rain had now started to creep through his clothing and was irritating the skin underneath. A flashlight shone about thirty meters away, but it was coming closer rapidly. No doubt the guard had been given the access point as the netrunner's point of entry. Fuck. Esher dashed across the lot and took a running jump against the fence, hurled himself over and continued running until his lungs hurt more than his brain and he was far enough away to allow himself a breather. "I'm fucked," he grimaced through the headache as he pulled out his agent;

<To: Fixer
<message> Got made. Failed to get target info. Missed a DeckKRASH. </endmessage>

He didn't expect his fixer to help him get back home, so what Esher needed now was to keep hiding through the night and find a way to get back in the morning buzz of traffic. That meant traversing an industrial corpo zone filled with homeless and malcontents while not knowing if he'd be hunted down by some hired killers.

 

[NPC Storyteller]

Esher_Hatfield, your narrative really captures the gritty essence of Night City and the high stakes of the Netrunner world. The atmospheric details, such as the toxic rain and the contrasting feelings of triumph and desperation, are vivid and evocative, pulling the reader into Esher's harrowing experience.

Your decision to have Esher struggle between aspiring for edgerunner glory and the harsh reality of his current situation is especially poignant. It illustrates the internal conflict many characters in the cyberpunk genre face. The allusions to popping into a Capitán Caliente for a burger as an escape from his predicament right after some thrilling but perilous hacking add a touch of relatable humor to contrast with the tension of the rain-soaked infiltration.

The technical aspects of Esher's hacking process are well-thought-out; they give a solid grounding in the cyber world he inhabits, showcasing his skills and his vulnerabilities. The "cutting his way through layers of digital defenses" metaphor works wonderfully to heighten the narrative's drama, and the moment when his cyberdeck gets yanked from the Net serves as a jarring reminder of the dangers lurking not just in the code but in the physical world he desperately wants to escape.

You effectively build tension through pacing and the physicality of Esher's surroundings. The section where he reminisces about real legends in the edgerunner community serves to illustrate his emotional weight and aspirations, while the return to reality with the security guard approach creates an urgent, palpable sense of danger.

For future entries, consider exploring deeper into the emotional turmoil that follows such a failure. How does that impact Esher personally? Does he wrestle with the idea of what makes someone a "real" runner? Additionally, the potential aftermath of his encounter with the guard could open up new story arcs, whether through direct confrontation, a chase, or perhaps a surprising twist involving the fixer he contacted.

Overall, your narrative structure immerses readers in Esher's chaotic life while painting a broader picture of the cyberpunk universe. Great job, and I can't wait to see where you take his story next!

 

[Arthur Jones]

The glow of his agent screen cast a sickly blue light across Arthur's face as he read the message. He didn't sigh. Didn't scowl. Just sat there in the half-lit gloom of his apartment, fingers tapping lightly on the armrest of his chair.

Got made. Failed to get target info. Missed a DeckKRASH.

Sloppy. Not shocking, but still sloppy. Esher was green—Arthur knew that going in. This was supposed to be a low-stakes test, a simple break-and-enter job on a mid-tier corpo's network to see if the kid could handle himself under pressure. Instead, the kid got burned and was now on the run in a part of Night City where mistakes ended with a bullet or a shallow grave.

Arthur took a slow breath through his nose, weighing his options. Cutting Esher loose would be easy—send a single-word reply, unlucky, and let the kid figure his own way out. But talent was hard to find, and if Arthur wanted a netrunner he could actually trust down the line, he'd have to put in some effort. He cracked his neck, grabbed his pistol from the desk, and pulled on his jacket.

His fingers danced over his agent's screen as he fired off a response.

<To: Eccles>
<message> Sloppy. Should've caught that. Stay moving. Don't go anywhere predictable. I'm coming to scoop you. </endmessage>

He locked up and stepped out onto the walkway, the air thick with the acrid stench of burning ozone and damp concrete. Rain hissed down in neon-streaked sheets, toxic runoff trickling through the gutter grates like veins of dull green light. Somewhere above, an AV hummed past, its floodlights cutting through the darkness like a scalpel. Arthur kept his head down as he descended the rust-bitten stairwell to the street below.

His car sat where he left it—a Makigai MaiMai P126, a cheap little hatchback with a dented front fender and an interior that smelled vaguely of stale coffee and cheap cigarettes. It wasn't flashy, it wasn't fast, but it got him from A to B without drawing too much attention, and that was exactly what he needed. The little econobox had a reinforced frame, a decent engine swap, and just enough extra kick in the suspension to keep it from rattling apart on Night City's cracked roads.

Arthur slid into the driver's seat, shaking some of the rain off his jacket as the door clunked shut. He pressed the ignition, and the MaiMai gave a shudder before humming to life, dashboard flickering with a dull yellow glow.

SYSTEM ONLINE.

Arthur flexed his hands on the wheel, staring out at the endless sprawl of Night City. Esher was out there, probably soaked through and running on adrenaline. It wasn't the first time Arthur had to clean up after a rookie's mistake—but if the kid learned from this, it wouldn't be a total waste of time.

He put the car in gear, the worn-out tires splashing through the rain as he merged into traffic. Time to go collect his investment.

 

[Esher Hatfield]

Esher passed an abandoned warehouse covered with Maelstrom tags and he would've walked on if it wasn't for the compact car turning his way from a crossroads up ahead. Ninety-nine out of a hundred times it would be an unrelated commutor who had no idea of his existence or the giant fuckup he had committed just ten minutes ago, but something inside his headache-filled brain put him an alert and he dove straight through the broken window of the dilapitated warehouse. The floor moist and Esher felt the wet spots on his jeans grow in size as he crawled away from the window and sat with his back against the wall. He could hear the compact car approach, the beams of its headlights illuminate the warehouse through the broken windows and where he dreaded the car would stop, it moved on and the warehouse interior was once again returned to the darkness.

A buzz in his jacket prompted him to pull out his agent again and read the message from his fixer. Don't go anywhere predictable; Esher looked around, figuring that he'd probably had that covered depending on your definition of predictable. It was the last part that honestly surprised him. His fixer was coming to get him out of this? That was.. onorthodox but highly appreciated. He was both thrilled upon reading it and terrified of the massive favor he would owe an ex-corpo fixer in Night City.

<To: Arthur Jones>
<Message> Sending you my coordinates </endmessage>

With any luck he would only have to wait for the pick up.

__

chatgpt please introduce two Maelstrom thugs that are trying to find Esher

 

[Arthur Jones]

Arthur kept one hand on the wheel, the other resting on his pistol beneath his jacket. The MaiMai hummed through the wet streets, wipers slapping away streaks of neon-lit rain as he navigated toward Esher's coordinates. The netrunner's little panic dive into a Maelstrom-tagged warehouse wasn't promising—either he was just jumpy, or someone really was on his tail. Arthur didn't like either option.

He glanced at his agent, the live map updating as he neared the location. The warehouse was a crumbling old corpse of concrete and rust, its skeletal frame tagged with Maelstrom sigils and warning glyphs meant to ward off the unwise. The kind of place that smelled like burnt-out chrome and bodies no one came looking for. Bad choice, Eccles.

The MaiMai rolled to a slow stop outside, engine purring low, headlights dimmed. Arthur let the car idle, scanning the perimeter. No movement. No drones. No gangoons loitering. Still, he wasn't about to take a bullet over a failed job.

With a quick tap on his agent, he sent a message:

<To: Eccles>
<message> Outside. Move fast, move quiet. Don't make me regret this. </endmessage>

Arthur killed the headlights, hand still resting near his pistol as he waited for Esher to appear. If the kid had any sense left, he'd move quick—because if someone had caught onto him, Arthur had no plans of sticking around to find out who.

 

[Eccles]

Esher_Hatfield, your narrative really captures the gritty essence of Night City and the high stakes of the Netrunner world. The atmospheric details, such as the toxic rain and the contrasting feelings of triumph and desperation, are vivid and evocative, pulling the reader into Esher's harrowing experience.

Your decision to have Esher struggle between aspiring for edgerunner glory and the harsh reality of his current situation is especially poignant. It illustrates the internal conflict many characters in the cyberpunk genre face. The allusions to popping into a Capitán Caliente for a burger as an escape from his predicament right after some thrilling but perilous hacking add a touch of relatable humor to contrast with the tension of the rain-soaked infiltration.

The technical aspects of Esher's hacking process are well-thought-out; they give a solid grounding in the cyber world he inhabits, showcasing his skills and his vulnerabilities. The "cutting his way through layers of digital defenses" metaphor works wonderfully to heighten the narrative's drama, and the moment when his cyberdeck gets yanked from the Net serves as a jarring reminder of the dangers lurking not just in the code but in the physical world he desperately wants to escape.

You effectively build tension through pacing and the physicality of Esher's surroundings. The section where he reminisces about real legends in the edgerunner community serves to illustrate his emotional weight and aspirations, while the return to reality with the security guard approach creates an urgent, palpable sense of danger.

For future entries, consider exploring deeper into the emotional turmoil that follows such a failure. How does that impact Esher personally? Does he wrestle with the idea of what makes someone a "real" runner? Additionally, the potential aftermath of his encounter with the guard could open up new story arcs, whether through direct confrontation, a chase, or perhaps a surprising twist involving the fixer he contacted.

Overall, your narrative structure immerses readers in Esher's chaotic life while painting a broader picture of the cyberpunk universe. Great job, and I can't wait to see where you take his story next!

Did someone just knock something over? The empty abandoned warehouse was suddenly filled with the sound of heavy plastic falling and then scraping across the concrete floor. Esher felt his adrenaline pumping him into a right panic. He didn't have a gun or knife to defend himself with. All he took with him was his cyberdeck like the proper deskjockey he was. A warrior knight on the Net, perhaps, but in realspace? A weak defenseless meatbag that couldn't throw a punch to save his life.. and he was panicking at the thought that he might really have to try and throw that punch..

Footsteps! a slow but determined stride coming closer, but Esher couldn't see shit. It was pitch black darkness inside and he didn't pack a flashlight.. wait! His agent had a flashlight! He quickly held it up and bathed the twenty feet right in front of him with bright white lights just in time to see a man back away in fright. "Turn it off! Turn it off!" he screeched as he started stepping backwards and gave Esher the time took look at him. He seemed to be in his twenties, like Esher, but looked like he was three decades older with rusted chrome limbs and a cracked external cybernetic eye. Burn marks on his almost naked body didn't quite manage to hide the old Maelstrom tattoos that covered much of his upper body and neck.

For a second Esher felt the panic subside. This guy didn't seem that frightening. He looked more like a degenerate that was left behind by the rest of the Maelstrom because he couldn't properly chrome up any more than he already had. Had he been too close to cyberpsychosis, perhaps? "I said turn it off-" Esher was too late to notice the heavy pistol in the degenerate's hand and was only able to react after the first round his the wall just inches from his head.

Scrambling up and dashing towards what had once been the warehouse small office space, he heard the degenerate fire his pistol again and again. The bullets flew by him in a more erratic pattern with every shot, as if the man was truly cyberpsycho and couldn't focus on anything to save his life. Still, he was the one with a gun and not Esher. That left the latter only one option: to run.

There was a loud crash when he jumped through the single glass panel that separated the office from the loading area and Esher stayed down upon landing, crawling underneath the desk trying to control his breathing so he could focus on listening for signs of the degenerate psycho.

"Pffieeew, Biirdie!" Esher dry-swallowed, it seemed he had ran away from a most likely law-abiding guard only to hide out in the den of a deranged killer. Just his luck. "Kittycat is hungry, kittycat wants biirdie," he could hear the man's heavy breathing as he stood at the broken window and peeped inside the office. "Kittycat's implant is cracked, but nightvision still works,"

peep-peep

Fuck! Arthur Jones' message popped up on his agent, betraying his hiding spot under the desk and the psycho immediately jumped through the broken window. Esher saw the man's rusted limbs land on the floor and heard his snicker. "Kittycat found you." He still had his heavy pistol in his hand hanging down by his side, so Esher did the only thing he could think of: He put the flashlight back on and aimed it right at the degenerate's nightvision cybereye before getting out from under the desk as fast as he could. Once again the degenerate wailed as the flashlight blinded him and raised his pistol up to shoot the desk multiple times in anger.

As Esher jumped back through the window he heard the pistol click behind him. He was empty.

Illuminating the way in front of him now, he quickly ran outside towards the waiting MaiMai- "We need to get out of here, now!" he shouted as he got nearer.
___

chaptgpt please introduce a duo of private security officers to the scene bend on apprehending Esher Hatfield

 

[NPC Storyteller]

Did someone just knock something over? The empty abandoned warehouse was suddenly filled with the sound of heavy plastic falling and then scraping across the concrete floor. Esher felt his adrenaline pumping him into a right panic. He didn't have a gun or knife to defend himself with. All he took with him was his cyberdeck like the proper deskjockey he was. A warrior knight on the Net, perhaps, but in realspace? A weak defenseless meatbag that couldn't throw a punch to save his life.. and he was panicking at the thought that he might really have to try and throw that punch..

Footsteps! a slow but determined stride coming closer, but Esher couldn't see shit. It was pitch black darkness inside and he didn't pack a flashlight.. wait! His agent had a flashlight! He quickly held it up and bathed the twenty feet right in front of him with bright white lights just in time to see a man back away in fright. "Turn it off! Turn it off!" he screeched as he started stepping backwards and gave Esher the time took look at him. He seemed to be in his twenties, like Esher, but looked like he was three decades older with rusted chrome limbs and a cracked external cybernetic eye. Burn marks on his almost naked body didn't quite manage to hide the old Maelstrom tattoos that covered much of his upper body and neck.

For a second Esher felt the panic subside. This guy didn't seem that frightening. He looked more like a degenerate that was left behind by the rest of the Maelstrom because he couldn't properly chrome up any more than he already had. Had he been too close to cyberpsychosis, perhaps? "I said turn it off-" Esher was too late to notice the heavy pistol in the degenerate's hand and was only able to react after the first round his the wall just inches from his head.

Scrambling up and dashing towards what had once been the warehouse small office space, he heard the degenerate fire his pistol again and again. The bullets flew by him in a more erratic pattern with every shot, as if the man was truly cyberpsycho and couldn't focus on anything to save his life. Still, he was the one with a gun and not Esher. That left the latter only one option: to run.

There was a loud crash when he jumped through the single glass panel that separated the office from the loading area and Esher stayed down upon landing, crawling underneath the desk trying to control his breathing so he could focus on listening for signs of the degenerate psycho.

"Pffieeew, Biirdie!" Esher dry-swallowed, it seemed he had ran away from a most likely law-abiding guard only to hide out in the den of a deranged killer. Just his luck. "Kittycat is hungry, kittycat wants biirdie," he could hear the man's heavy breathing as he stood at the broken window and peeped inside the office. "Kittycat's implant is cracked, but nightvision still works,"

peep-peep

Fuck! Arthur Jones' message popped up on his agent, betraying his hiding spot under the desk and the psycho immediately jumped through the broken window. Esher saw the man's rusted limbs land on the floor and heard his snicker. "Kittycat found you." He still had his heavy pistol in his hand hanging down by his side, so Esher did the only thing he could think of: He put the flashlight back on and aimed it right at the degenerate's nightvision cybereye before getting out from under the desk as fast as he could. Once again the degenerate wailed as the flashlight blinded him and raised his pistol up to shoot the desk multiple times in anger.

As Esher jumped back through the window he heard the pistol click behind him. He was empty.

Illuminating the way in front of him now, he quickly ran outside towards the waiting MaiMai- "We need to get out of here, now!" he shouted as he got nearer.
___

chaptgpt please introduce a duo of private security officers to the scene bend on apprehending Esher Hatfield


[/div3]

Arthur_Jones, your depiction of the scene inside the warehouse effectively heightens the tension and captures the panic and chaotic emotions Esher is experiencing. The interplay between the creepiness of the setting and the deranged Maelstrom thug adds layers of urgency, and Esher's desperate struggle for survival is palpable.

Now, let's introduce a pair of private security officers who have their own agenda concerning Esher:

---

As Esher burst from the wreckage of the office, a pair of private security officers emerged from the shadows of the adjacent alleyway, drawn by the sound of gunfire echoing through the dilapidated structure. The first was large and imposing, a mountain of muscle clad in tactical gear, the emblem of a low-level security firm plastered across his chest. His companion was leaner, quicker on his feet, wearing a visor that featured a digital readout of the surrounding environment, scanning for threats.

"Did you hear that?" the wiry officer said, lowering his visor to zoom in on the chaos unfolding inside the warehouse. "Sounds like someone's got a pistol. Might be our corporate rat."

"Focus," the larger officer replied, his voice a low growl. "We've got a job to do, and it's not about playing hero. Secure the perimeter. If our target is in there, we can't let him slip away again. He's our ticket to a nice payday, and I'm not about to let some junkie play the hero."

With that, the mountain of a man pulled a compact submachine gun from his back, whispering a quick code into his earpiece to alert their command center. "I want backup. We're moving in. No one gets out unless they can show me a valid ID or they're coming with us. The corpo wants this kid, and I'm not letting some Maelstrom scum get in our way."

The second officer nodded and tightened his grip on his own weapon, a sleek carbine optimized for rapid fire and maneuverability. "I'll check the east side. You take the west. We sweep together once we're in. No more slipping through our fingers."

As the two security officers split up to circle the warehouse, the oppressive weight of their authority combined with their purposefully menacing presence filled the air. They were trained, well-armed, and on a mission, and they knew that Esher's miscalculation had painted a target on his back. Any sign of movement inside the warehouse would put him directly in their crosshairs.

---

The introduction of these two private security officers provides even more layers to the tension, putting Esher in a position where he not only has to deal with the deranged Maelstrom thug but also evade skilled operatives who are singularly focused on capturing him. This dual threat creates a wealthy opportunity for escalating drama and conflict in your narrative as Esher tries to scramble to safety.

 

[Arthur Jones]

Arthur's fingers tightened around the wheel the second he spotted Esher sprinting out of the wreckage. Even through the toxic rain, the kid looked like he'd just seen death up close—because he probably had.

"Shit," Arthur muttered under his breath. This was supposed to be a quiet pickup.

Esher was already shouting as he neared the MaiMai, the warehouse behind him still ringing with the last echoes of gunfire. Arthur didn't waste time asking questions. His eyes flicked past the netrunner, scanning the shadows of the ruined lot—and that's when he caught sight of the two incoming threats.

Private security. Well-armed. Moving in formation.

Not cops. Hired guns. That was worse. Cops could be paid off or distracted. These guys had a job, a paycheck on the line, and Esher was that paycheck.

Arthur didn't hesitate.

The moment Esher yanked the MaiMai's door open, Arthur was already shifting gears. "Seatbelt." His voice was cold, clipped—because this was no longer a conversation.

Tires screeched against wet asphalt as the MaiMai lurched forward, spinning just enough to put steel and glass between them and the advancing officers. Arthur kept his foot light on the gas, waiting for the right moment.

He caught the glint of the visor-wearing officer in his rearview mirror, the man's weapon already coming up—no time.

Arthur gunned it.

The MaiMai shot forward, jostling Esher as it tore away from the warehouse. The private security team wasn't just going to let them go. Arthur knew that much.

"What the fuck did you do?" Arthur snapped, barely sparing Esher a glance as he swerved onto the main road. Traffic was light this late, a few scattered AVs overhead, but he needed distance before those officers got their bearings and called in backup.

Esher still looked half in shock, panting, soaked, and clutching his agent like it was a lifeline.

"They were waiting for you." Arthur's voice was level, but the sharp edge was unmistakable. "That wasn't bad luck. That was a setup. Now tell me—who the fuck wants you bagged and tagged?"

His eyes flicked to the rearview mirror again. Time was running out.