Cyberpunk City AI

The streets of lower Iron Alley didn’t welcome visitors—they tolerated them. Grime coated every surface, neon signs flickered with static fatigue, and the scent of ozone clung to the air like a warning. Pipes hissed underfoot, and narrow walkways curved above their heads like ribs of some long-dead machine.

Liora, Kael, and Kira moved quietly, weaving between stacked crates and overflowing trash bins. Above them, a faded holo-ad sputtered to life, advertising “USED AUGS – NO QUESTIONS” in a loop. Kira barely looked up. Her hand stayed on the satchel at her side, her eyes sharper than usual.

“We’re not far from the walkways,” Kael muttered, checking his wristband’s static map. “But we should blend in first. There’s a place I know.”

They turned down a crooked alley lit by swaying magenta lamps, where grime softened into dust and voices drifted through broken speaker cones. A hand-painted sign above a doorway read: “Pennycoil’s Relics & Mods”—half mechanical scrap dealer, half curiosity shop.

Inside, the air was warmer, thick with the smell of solder and old plastic. Shelves crowded the room, stacked with blinking circuit boards, retro comms units, dusty cybernetic limbs, and at least three taxidermied rats wearing tiny exo-helmets. A soft jazz loop played on a speaker buried under a mountain of drone wings.

Behind the counter, a man with a single glowing eye and a short white beard looked up.

“Well,” he rasped. “Ain’t seen ghosts in years. What brings you lot to the bones of the Alley?”

Kael nodded politely. “Looking to trade. Need gear and maybe a rumor.”

The man grinned, revealing gold-capped teeth and a flickering implant in his cheek. “Rumors come free—gear’ll cost you. But I like your friend’s satchel. Feels… alive.”

Liora shifted uneasily, but Kira stepped forward. “We don’t need trouble. Just parts. And silence.”

He raised his hands. “Silence is expensive. But I’m an old romantic. Take your time.”

As they wandered the store, Kira paused beside a shelf of broken NeuroCorp badges and shattered drone lenses. She picked one up—its center cracked but still blinking faintly—and stared at it for a long moment. Liora moved beside her, speaking softly.

“We’re not that different from this place,” she said. “Broken, buried, but still running.”

Kira nodded, placing the badge back. “Difference is… we’re not for sale.”

From the corner, Kael held up a device. “This could scramble old signal tags. Might help us stay under the radar.”

They gathered at the counter, handing over a few cyberTokens and a salvaged chip Kael had pocketed weeks ago. The man behind the counter smiled again, slower this time.

“Word is, the Rust Devils are sniffing around for a crew that jacked something big off a Zenith drop. You might want to stay away from walkways and shine.”

As they stepped back into the cold wash of alley light, the shopkeeper leaned on the counter and whispered to no one, “And they just walked through my door…”

Above, a low drone passed—a NeuroCorp recon unit. Its sensors blinked red before vanishing into the maze of walkways.

Kira tightened the strap on her satchel.