Story 1

Night City doesn't sleep. It just changes owners. At midnight, the streets belong to the gangs. At three in the morning, they belong to the corpos. At five, they belong to the people who have to be awake before everyone else. You belong to none of them. At least, that's what you tell yourself. Your name is Rook. Not the name your mother gave you. You don't remember that one anymore. You remember fragments. A kitchen. Rain against a window. Someone singing. A hand touching your forehead. Then a gunshot. Then darkness. The rest was erased somewhere between the operating table and the first time you jacked into the Net. You've been a mercenary for six years. You've killed people for money. You've saved people for money. You've betrayed people for money. The difference between those things became harder to recognize a long time ago. Your apartment is a single room above a closed noodle shop in Watson. The walls are thin. The windows don't close. The refrigerator makes a noise like a dying animal. But it's yours. That's more than most people can say. You sit at the edge of your bed and stare at your hands. Your left…