Cyberpunk - Badland Madman [Cyberpunk 2077]

He pulled into the grand parking lot of the stadium, where a special concert was being held. The big trillionaire was throwing a birthday party with a dozen top-tier global singers made to sing for him. Of course, commoners could also buy tickets to watch the extravaganza.

A fake smile on his face, his back straight, his dark hair once again combed, he started walking towards the venue, passing the crowds. But he didn't enter through the entrance for the visitors. No, he went through the staff entrance.

Funny how a single high-visibility safety vest and a bit of confidence could get you into almost anywhere. He greeted the guards and other employees and entered the stadium. He still had an ID card hanging on his neck, just in case. It wasn't that hard to falsify, using his old job card as a reference.

Nobody stopped him because his card carried the Monolith logo. The only people he had to be wary of were others with the same logo. But there weren't that many, as security and management of the venue were outsourced.

Gates after gates, he got closer to the backstage area of the massive stage. In the end, one single door separated him from the VIP area. He didn't know if the big trillionaire was there, so he waited in the bathroom.

Oh, I'm going to hell for enjoying this.

He looked at himself in the mirror and noticed a smile he wasn't aware he was holding. It looked wicked, not evil, but not kind either.

At last, he started to hear vibrations of loud music. That was his cue to move again. He left the bathroom and exited the final door. Once again, nobody asked him questions. He just maintained confidence and acted like he knew what he was doing.

Backstage was where all the singers were gathered to wish the trillionaire a happy birthday. And easy enough, the fucker wasn't hard to miss with his big bald head and supermodel trophy wife who was holding possibly the universe's ugliest-looking chihuahua.

He waited for the opportunity. With so many celebrities around, the security was too tight. There were too many bodyguards. But he still had a trick up his sleeve. He went over to the sound equipment, grabbed a decently large box, and started moving towards the main backstage area where more equipment was connected.

Celebrities and their bodyguards alike moved aside and let him through. Any ordinary man would've panted in nervousness. But such was the kiss of death; nothing scared Cypher. Smiling, he just walked, his brain truly empty, his goal already a fact registered in his head, which moved his body automatically.

Little by little, he got closer. He knew the bodyguards there were watching him; it was their job to see the odd ones. What he had to do was appear nonthreatening. Like he had a good reason for being there.

"You!"

"..."

Cypher paused, but remained calm. He turned around to face the one who shouted.

Fuck! He noticed the badge with the Monolith logo.

"Why are you all so damn slow? Where are the water bottles I asked for?"

"..."

Cypher played along. "They're still processing it. I'll bring them after this."

"Process? Ah, you mean checking them? Alright, bring them over next. And be fast, Mr. Hoffman hates waiting."

Not after today, I bet.

He just nodded and proceeded to do the job. He went to the stage area and placed the box there.

"I didn't ask for this."

Cypher just shrugged, noticing that the man was a part of the sound crew. "I don't know, they said to bring it over, and I did. I'm busy, boss wants water, sort it out yourself."

He rushed away from there, but this time he changed his trajectory slightly. He saw James Hoffman walking right towards him, as if to see all the arrangements for the music. The pre-concert music was also loud, noises and voices all muffled. So many cameras were flashing as the place was a little gathering of the top music artists.

He walked slowly on purpose. There was a wall of bodyguards around Hoffman, and although they didn't spread their arms to form a circle, he knew they'd tackle him if he made any quick movements.

But such was the kiss of death. He acted so well in the absence of fear. He made the most excited face one could imagine, like a little boy seeing his favorite superhero. Only in his case, he was the terminally ill kid seeing the said hero… with slight modifications.

"Mr. Hoffman!" He shouted, all excited, jumping. He took out his phone to grab the man's attention. One thing Cypher knew about narcissistic rich people was that they loved attention. They loved being looked up to.

Got you!

As soon as he saw the bald fucker see him, he tried to get closer. The bodyguards reacted to block his path.

"Can I have a picture with you, sir?! Mr. Hoffman!"

He shouted like an obsessed fangirl meeting her favorite boy band. He waved his phone, and the camera app turned on.

And right then, he saw a sparkle in Hoffman's eyes. Pleasure, narcissistic urges tickled just right. And sure enough, the trillionaire waved his hand.

"Thank you, thank you so much!"

He jumped excitedly and got right beside Hoffman. He didn't ask for it, but the trophy wife also tried to be in his picture frame for some reason. Probably hoping that he'd post it online or something. Oh, she was in for a surprise.

"You're a Monolith employee?"

"Yes, sir!" He shouted and tried to take a selfie with his left hand. He raised it high and also noticed how the bodyguards were no longer looking at him, but instead shielded him and Hoffman from others around.

"It's always a pleasure to meet hard-working members of the Monolith family."

Cypher held back his disgust and grinned. "Oh, the pleasure is all mine, sir! Really loved the way they fired me."

"Hm? Wha—"

Too late, Cypher's right hand had already fetched a small P320 handgun from his jacket. He made no big movements, no hints. He kept the selfie camera raised high with his left hand, but it was recording a video, not taking pictures.

James Hoffman was confused, looking at Cypher's face.

The man never noticed when Cypher aimed the gun right under his jaw and…

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Three loud gunshots deafened the crowds. It was so sudden that everyone just froze, from the bodyguards to the trophy wife.

And James Hoffman… three bullets shot through the trillionaire's skull, wreaking havoc from his underchin to his nose, his eyes, and of course, his head. Three bullets were enough to explode the eyeballs out of the sockets. Three were enough to kill a corpo god.

"Aaaaaaaaa!"

The trophy wife screamed. The bodyguards moved.

But Cypher was faster and grabbed the trophy wife from behind, scaring all the bodyguards. Of course, he had no plans on killing the woman or the poor dog, despite being one ugly motherfucker.

No, he just wanted to see the bastard dead, and oh gods of every faith, it was beautiful. He could see the skull opened up at the top, brain matter spilling. Dead as a dead body can be.

With a sneer, he showed his true emotions. Disgust, anger, and emptiness. "Richest man my ass. Still bleeds red."

"P-p-please don't… kill me."

He heard the woman sob in his grasp, her knees going weak, her high-heeled legs wobbling. He had a sudden realization that he was holding one of the world's most desired supermodels so close to himself. For some reason, that filled him with even more anger. The dead fucker wasn't even good-looking, but his money earned him the finest chicks.

Nonetheless, he had to say, she was really hot.

"Relax, I'm insane, not evil."

In a split second, he moved the muzzle of his gun from her temples to his own and…

"Over and fucking out!"

Bang!

####

It was instant.

The world faded to black. He had no thoughts going on in his head anyway, so there were no sensations of loss. He'd already accepted his own death, so there was no surprise in it either. He preferred this over suffering from rabies.

He preferred to die.

Yet, sometimes, surprises happen. Shocking, otherworldly, absurd surprises. As they say, when one door closes, another opens. Only, they never say how shitty that new door can be.

Cypher has lost the ability to think of the future. So imagine his surprise when he heard a strange sound, something like music but more modern, techno maybe? He also felt rather warm and experienced a lot of strange sensations. His head, his arm, the ground, it all felt weird.

Hm? Don't tell me they saved my ass.

"Fuck!"

With a curse, he used every ounce of strength left in him and opened his eyes. Sunlight blinded him instantly, coming from the two large windows on either side of the filthy bed he was lying on. He still couldn't sit up as he felt tired and weak.

This ain't a hospital.

He at least could move his head left and right. There were some unknown posters on the wall, old-looking furniture, and metallic cupboards. And of course, those weird fucking icons and information hovering in front of his eyes. He could read the red text, which told him the time of the day, and a few more icons.

"The hell is this—huh?"