How a Suited Thug Became Cyberlord

A suit, firearms, and alcohol: the three things that define Virgil Rickman.

After forty-three years as an intelligence agent, he'd grown used to hiding his wounds beneath a suit and numbing his pain with alcohol.

Until one day, his department told him he was no longer needed, and his partner put a bullet in his spine.

He closed his eyes, then opened them again, thinking he would arrive in hell... Only to find himself a corporate drone in a cyberpunk world.

Sparks spat from his prosthetic arm. The phone by his bed lit up with a text from a contact named [Damned Boss]:

"I screwed up! Where are you?! Get over here and take the blame for me!"

Virgil, lying in bed: ...

Is incomplete brain development some kind of universal condition?!

He gave a disbelieving snort and tossed his phone aside.

To hell with it. Now that he was in hell, why should he keep busting his hump for someone else?

And so...

Three minutes later, the biggest black market in the Maze District was blown to pieces.

Ten minutes later, the company's skyscraper was under attack.

Security guards stared in shock as a man with sparks still spitting from his arm stormed into the company, took down an entire heavily augmented squad on his own, then walked into the elevator carrying a heavy machine gun in one hand.

Thirty minutes after entering the cyberpunk world, Virgil roughly pressed his gun to his boss's temple.

Bang!

His mechanical heart stopped beating from the overload.

Virgil fell backward, filled with a long-missed sense of exhilaration.

Suddenly, he found himself face-to-face with a pair of enormous eyes made of neon and mist.

Cold hands caught him. Their owner, the one with those eyes, asked softly:

[Do you still remember the oath you once swore?]

[Are you still willing, with your integrity, to protect every innocent person and root out all evil, so that peace may reign in the world?]

His thoughts drifted into the past.

At that moment, Virgil remembered the earnest oath he'd made as a young man:

"As long as I remain at my post, I will do everything in my power to faithfully fulfill all my duties."

The owner of the hands and eyes: [Then you shall have all my favor.]

"Thump, thump!"

His mechanical heart began beating again.

That voice whispered in his ear: Now, jump.

Jump from the building. You will be reborn.

**

Years later, Virgil lounged in his newly acquired convertible, scrolling through videos:

#Crime rate hits a new low! Are courts finally more than just for show?!#

#Major power shift in Silent Town. A mysterious agent may be behind it#

#A rundown of the mysterious agent's rumored lovers, Part Three...#

#Begging for high-resolution pictures of Daddy looking battle-worn!! Will pay extra for pics of him holding a gun or stepping on the camera with his dress shoes!! Price negotiable!!#

#Presidential election! Vote for the best *mysterious agent*!!!#

Virgil: "..."

The more he read, the weirder it got. Were they serious? President? He'd rather go back and get shot!

A silver mechanical hand suddenly reached over his head, snatched the phone, and scrolled through the news. "'The story of my first meeting with the mysterious agent'?"

"I still remember our first meeting, Virgil. I pulled you back from the brink of death. You could have at least declined my offer without spitting out, 'Get lost already.'"

Virgil glanced sideways at him, pulled him down, and kissed him. "You kicked me off a seventy-eight-story building the moment I turned around. Was that supposed to be friendly?"

###CP: A cyberpunk city consciousness that's socially clueless in the literal sense but surprisingly easy to talk to (?) x An exhausted, short-tempered, battle-scarred secret agent in a suit, an unstoppable brute.

Inspired by the James Bond series. Licensed to kill. One-on-one romance, happy ending.

Theme: I want to find a peaceful home where, after being battered and bruised, I can finally settle down