Chapter 1 – I Might Not Be That Cooked
"…This city is cooked."
Altair Salvatore leaned against the window of his dusty-ass apartment in Megabuilding H10. Rain tapped on the glass like it was trying to break in. Neon signs outside flickered every few seconds, and someone down below was either getting mugged or starting a street fight. Again.
Even this high up, the noise never stopped. Sirens. Screaming. That weird clanging sound he still couldn't identify. Night City was loud, messy, and straight-up unforgiving.
He sighed, long and deadpan.
"Damn it… I was just tryna play some games. Watch anime. Maybe eat chicken-flavored cup ramen in peace. And now I'm here. What the fuck."
Just a few days ago, he was home—well, not a good home, but Earth at least. He'd been grinding some scuffed Cyberpunk mod that turned you into Murk Man—Night City's bootleg Batman.
The mod featured unique cyberware, armor, and weapons, a brand-new crafting system that actually made you feel like a certain snobby genius engineer, and different combat styles.
Murk Man—or, well, Batman. It was a cool mod. A cool idea.
The guy dies in the lore, though.
Which, in hindsight, should've been a warning.
Though… I didn't think this would happen.
Boom.
PC exploded.
No, like seriously. The whole thing literally blew up. Sparks, smoke, loud pop—it was like someone threw a fucking grenade into my motherboard. And the new PC was recently built too!
He'd just clicked a new perk.
Then—yoink.
Next thing he knew, he was in someone else's body.
That someone? Also named Altair. Same age. Same build. But this version? Lived in Night City. Born here. Raised here. And already done with life.
His parents? Gunned down in some corpo crossfire. Random hit. Wrong place, wrong time.
And they were good parents too, which was rare in the city of desires.
The kid didn't last long after that. No friends. Barely any savings. All he had was pain and anger at the world.
Sadly, this world had too many people like him—people who gave up because they couldn't change anything.
So he swallowed a bottle of pills and went to sleep.
One he didn't exactly plan on waking up from.
But he—the idiot gamer Altair—did.
Same body. Same memories. Just… a different soul now pulling these shitty strings.
"…The hell kinda timing is that?" he muttered.
Now he was here. In this rundown room with a busted door lock, a mattress that squeaked like it was haunted, and exactly 3,800 eddies in a half-frozen bank account.
Why was V's apartment so good and his was absolute trash?
He ran a hand through his hair, sat down in the creaky chair, and stared at the wall like it had answers.
"This shit ain't fair," he muttered. "I didn't even get a 'Noob's Guide to Surviving Night City.'"
Ding.
A weird electronic sound popped in his head—soft, robotic, and absolutely not from this world.
Then—bam—a glowing screen appeared in front of him.
[SYSTEM ONLINE]
Welcome, Altair.
Protocol: BATMAN.BEGINS
You have 5 unspent attribute points.
Level: 1 | XP: 0/1000 | Perk Points: 0
"…Wait. No fucking way."
He didn't move. Just stared. Cold, blank face.
Then, slowly, he waved his hand through it. It didn't go away. Stayed right there, floating like some in-game UI. Exactly the kind of system screen he used to see in his cracked mods back home.
He tapped the Status tab.
STATUS
Name: Altair Salvatore
Level: 1
XP: 0/1000
Attribute Points: 5
Perk Points: 0
BODY (3) – "Wow, you're really fucking weak!"
REACTION (3) – "Your reaction speed is faster than a snail."
TECHNICAL (3) – "I can make two stones stack on each other."
INTELLIGENCE (6) – "Hey, decent brain, it could've been worse? Onga bonga!"
COOL (6) – "Shiver me timbers, you are… cool?"
Altair blinked once.
"This is… the Batman mod," he whispered.
Same categories. Same progression system. Except now—no keyboard. No pause button.
He leaned back in the chair, letting the screen hover in front of him.
Heart beating steady. Eyes locked in.
"So I do have a cheat."
No cheers. No celebration.
Just that familiar cold feeling in his chest. That weight.
But under it—something new.
Hope.
"Sure enough, every transmigrator either has some cheat or plot armor."
"Seems like mine is the former. And yeah, I might be stupid… but I'm not stupid enough to think I'm the main character. There's already the speedy kid who got bonked, and the fully-functioning Cybertron who hacked and slashed his way to the top of Arasaka Tower."
He glanced at the system note left by Murk Man, then at the door with the shit lock...
"Damn."
***
[NEW TASK UNLOCKED]System Objective: Stop 10 crimes before they happen.Reward: Newbie Gift Pack + 1 Attribute Points + 1 Perk PointsBonus Reward: Street Rep + Cool XP + System Trust +1
Altair stared at the glowing text hovering in front of him like it was accusing him of something.
"Before they happen? What am I, psychic?"
He paced the room slowly, thinking it over. The system wasn't exactly generous with the details. No minimap. No crime detector pinging hotspots. It just gave the mission like it expected him to figure it out.
"Great. No tutorial. No help. Just 'Go be Batman, bro.'"
He was still sore from yesterday's pills. But the adrenaline made it bearable.
Alright. Time to get moving.
***
Night City – Watson, Northside Industrial Block
Maelstrom turf.
Altair crouched on the roof of a run-down warehouse, peering through a cracked skylight. The building looked abandoned—but inside?
Six Maelstrom gangers.
Two were arguing over eddies. One was injecting himself with something Altair didn't wanna know about. The other three? Busy prepping crates full of black market cyberware.
The illegal kind.
No serials. No cooling systems. Just ripperdoc nightmares meant for desperate corpos or gang freaks.
Altair narrowed his eyes behind his visor.
[CRIME DETECTED]
Status: In Progress
Stopping this will count toward your mission.
Perfect.
He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out what looked like a plastic party mask. It was cheap. Worn. A weird smile painted on the front like some dollar-store psycho clown. He'd picked it up from a vending machine for laughs.
Now it was part of the plan.
He slipped it on and whispered:
"Let's see if I can bullshit my way into a win."
The Plan Was Simple:
Sneak in.
Confuse the shit out of them.
Create chaos.
Krill them off.
Altair moved quietly, slipping through a side window he'd jimmied open earlier. The shadows swallowed him up. No one noticed him.
He reached the upper catwalk, crouched low. The Maelstrom guys below were still arguing. One of them was laughing like a maniac. Another was loading a shotgun.
This was it.
He reached into his belt pouch, pulled out a stolen smoke bomb he'd crafted using junk from his apartment and a firework launcher. Definitely not legal. Definitely not safe.
But hey—cyberpunk.
He tossed it.
CLINK...
"Huh?"
PSSSSSSHHHH—!!
Smoke burst out, flooding the warehouse in thick gray clouds. Panic hit immediately.
"WHAT THE FUCK—WHO'S THERE?!"
"SMOKE?! IS THIS A RAID?!"
Altair moved fast. The Lexington pistol felt small in his hand, but it was all he had. He dropped down from the catwalk like a ghost, landing hard and rolling behind a metal crate. His knee popped.
"Fuck—too early for this."
He peeked around the corner and saw a Maelstrom ganger stumbling through the smoke, waving a pistol like a lunatic.
Altair lined up the shot.
CRACK!
Headshot. Clean.
[+500 Cool XP
+400 Reaction XP
+700 Body XP
Enemy neutralized.
Justice Served.]
He didn't wait.
Another guy fired blindly into the smoke. Altair ducked, sliding across the floor and grabbing a metal pipe. He chucked it across the room.
CLANG!
"THERE!"
They shot toward the sound.
Altair flanked left, and fired two rounds into one guy's shoulder and leg. The bastard dropped, screaming.
He sprinted behind a stack of crates. His heart pounded. His lungs burned.
Another popped out of the smoke—point-blank.
Altair didn't aim. He pushed.
Slammed his body into the guy's gut, knocking him into a stack of cyberware crates. He grabbed the fallen man's pistol and chucked it away.
One kick to the head.
Out cold.
+300 Body XP
+200 Cool XP
Two left.
They were regrouping by the exit, barely able to see through the smoke. One had a shotgun. The other had chrome arms that looked like they were meant to rip people apart.
Altair reached into his coat. Pulled out a second smoke bomb. Improvised with kitchen cleaner and an old vape rig.
"Let's make it theatrical."
He threw it.
BOOMF—
The second floor lit up. Smoke exploded again. This one had a spicy disgusting smell, like it smelled really fucking bad, orange tint and shit...
"SHIT—HE'S UP THERE!"
Altair jumped down behind them.
BLAM! BLAM!
Two shots to the chrome guy's back. Didn't kill him, but dropped him to a knee. The other swung the shotgun up.
Altair grabbed a metal pole off the floor and threw it.
It hit the shotgun. Knocked it out of his hands.
He rushed him. Slammed his shoulder into the guy's ribs. A knee to the stomach. Another kick.
The chrome guy tried to get up.
Click.
Altair pointed the Lexington at his face.
"I am justice."
CRACK.
Silence.
[TASK COMPLETE - CRIME #1 STOPPED]
+1,200 XP Gained
Level Up!
+1 Attribute Point
+1 Perk Point
Attribute Change:
BODY → 4
COOL → 7
Altair stood there in the smoke-filled warehouse. Six dead or soon-to-be-dead of bloodloss gangers around him. Gun is still warm.
Breathing hard.
He looked down at himself. Scratches. Bruises. Small gunshot wound on his arm.
He was still calm, way too calm.
"I guess this is what 6 Cool does?"
The mask was still on. Still smiling.
He looked around, then muttered, "I still don't know how the fuck i managed this..."
"Anyway.. one task down. Nine more to go."
I picked up one of the dead maelstrom chrome arm and grinned:
"Money? hehe..."
every batman needs money...
Money is their superpower!!
Chapter end.
gib me some vote stones so i know u like heheheh