Cyberpunk Flashlight Novels & Stories

I murmured. That gave me an idea. I fumbled through my bag and found the keychain flashlight, which wasn't going to be helpful, but the other side was a laser pointer. I pointed it towards a threshold in a mirror. As the light left the flashlight, the red beam became visible. It wasn't just a spot like in our world, instead, it was a path of light. "Whoa," I whispered. Then louder, I asked, "Can you see that?" Remi's image looked left and right following the red beam in front of him. "Yes! Let me follow it."

I replied. “I thought you said you left Mr. Robin Ryder your camera footage, they’re going to see you in the video," she whistled. “No, you can’t really see much of me, it was too dark, bad lighting a killer of many a good shot," I explained with a soft sigh. She sat up at this revelation, “Wait, so you’re not going to tell them it was you?” “Nope,” I replied popping the p. “but-“

The single bulb over the loading dock was broken, plunging the alley into total, pitch-black darkness. I reached into my pocket, my fingers wrapping around a small, cheap analog flashlight I’d scavenged from the laundry room. I clicked it on, the thin yellow beam cutting through the dense fog. A massive, dark figure stepped out from behind a stack of wooden shipping crates, completely blocking the path to the door. My muscles tensed instantly, the street instincts flaring up as I dropped into a low stance, my hand reaching into my hoodie pocket for a broken whiskey bottle I’d picked up from the street. I was ready to tear into whatever Vesper mercenary Silas had sent to put me back in a cell

"Come here now." Did anything touch this man at all? I couldn't care less. Annoyed, I pounded the backpack in front of his chest and hoped that at least a bit of it had gone away, but he simply put it on the floor at his feet and pulled two flashlights from his side pockets. A large one that you could use to break in the skull of a prole in an emergency and a small one that would only have been more girlish if it were pink instead of black. Still, I took it. Little light was better than no light at all.

The image burned into his retina before the darkness returned, deeper. “Stay where you are. I have candles in the kitchen cabinet.” He navigated the now-labyrinthine familiar space until he found the cabinet. His fingers searched the top shelf, locating the cold cylinder of an emergency candle and, beside it, a box of matches. The scratch of the match was obscenely loud, a small yellow explosion that illuminated his tense face for an instant before he touched the wick. The flame was born, flickering, then steadied, casting a trembling sphere of golden light and dancing shadows.

As despicable as I found him, nobody deserved to be crushed by their own creation. I needed a light. "Phalanx?" I called. My HUD crackled, a few panels giving off a minute amount of light. "Error," Phalanx stammered. "Quinn, weapons, Spartan, Zhou, error." The screen flashed with every new word, broken images providing just enough light to see by. There! The hatch! I grasped it and pulled, breaking open the darkness and climbing out. Daylight was blinding, a searing angelic light.

My feet hit the ledge with barely a sound, and I crouched low, pressed against the glass, hidden in the darkness. I tapped the small device on my wrist, and a holographic display flickered to life, overlaying the window with a grid of laser sensors. The beams crisscrossed like a deadly web, ready to trigger alarms at the slightest disturbance. High-end security, but not impossible to beat. I pulled out a compact signal jammer from my utility belt, a custom piece of tech that was as sleek as it was effective. “This is the part where you get creative, Viv,” I whispered to myself, a smirk pulling at my lips.

There was a dark smudge on the door handle, and he heard water running inside. Dammit, he thought. He could picture the damage they might have already done. The water stopped, and he pulled the door open quietly. Nobody was in sight in the area of the lockers, and a cursory glance did not reveal any open lockers or other signs of vandalism, other than a few more dark smudges on the floor. His long flashlight felt dangerously heavy in his hands. It was one of those steel MagLights and he knew it would serve as a makeshift club if he needed to use it that way. Frank stepped around the corner and turned on the flashlight, pointing it at the sound of wet footsteps. Despite his nervousness, his v

Chapter 64 Breaking Camp Joe and Bryan diligently patrolled the campsite, their tridents and spears held at the ready, as they maintained a watchful eye throughout the night. Thankfully, the tranquility of the underwater depths prevailed, and the hours flew by uneventfully. As the darkness persisted, the waystick, a specialized device emitting a soft, bioluminescent glow, began to illuminate the camp with a vibrant and bright pink light, casting a gentle radiance that bathed the surroundings in its ethereal hue. The waystick's glow, carefully crafted to mimic sunlight, served as the primary source of illumination in the deep abyss, where natural sunlight could not penetrate.

End Flashback Elias checked his remaining resources. He had access to three distinct caches: a set of forged identities, a small amount of liquid digital currency, and a remote access key to a highly protected, non-Syndicate server—the "secret garden" Marcus had insisted he plant years ago. The server was a digital safe house, designed to withstand a level-three trace.