The elevator slowly climbed up to the 13th floor, with creaks and cracks of rusty cables. Sounds of the busy nightclub below slowly muffled into silence.
The demon half-masked Tyger Claw with an assault rifle hung barrel-down. She did not even blink as she stared right at me just a few feet away. The cheap sunglasses did little to conceal her stare. Her long hair was tied up in a giant ponytail.
The scan didn't work because of the interference from the mask, and there is not nearly enough time to filter through the interference.
Gorilla arms, along with fully augmented militech shoulders and neck. Prominent heavy subdermal armor below a synth-skin covered in demonic cyber-animal hybrid tattoos covering every part of the torso that I could see peeking under the bright red jacket.
She might be in the 70-80% cyberization range just from a simple look.
Someone like her should not work in an elevator.
People I passed on the way through the club downstairs were much less equipped, though I suppose that didn't change much when they had the numbers.
But it was obvious it was some kind of intimidation tactic. They invited me here, they greeted me and now they escort me to meet a person who told me he owes me a favor.
Tyger Claws are not on my side by a long shot, but this is getting stupid. Do they think I came unprepared?
And there is always plan B. Yell that Wakako-sama won't stand for this and figure out the details later. Just her name should be enough.
Plan C is just plain stupid, but good to have. A new Unity with AP rounds, 2 HE grenades, low profile netrunner undersuit under a piercing and slashing resistant heavy trench coat. Overtweaked short circuit that should execute within 0.9 seconds, in theory that is.
I see that you have functioning eyelids installed, use them.
No use in saying it. The ride seemed to be endless and I remained tense.
We both stood there staring and not moving.
The irregular noises from the cracks in the old elevator cables was the only sound I heard besides my own heart beating faster and faster. This day is aiming to be awful.
The signals from the lower floors died out, and no new ones appeared. No security network up here.
The elevator dinged as we arrived, stopping slowly at the right level.
The tiger half-masked woman gave me a slightest nod towards the opening doors as they revealed a soft lighting of a... bar.
"Gotcha." I responded simply.
The entire reception area was covered in tracks of moving things around by dragging them, leaving dusty trails.
I walked in and saw no people inside.
Elevator doors closed behind me and I tried scanning anything, but nothing came up. No people.
The footsteps of the Tyger Claw echoed as she followed me inside. Figures. Just need to be more careful.
The windows were almost fully barred by scraps. And everything else was gone as well. Bare concrete.
The bar area was fully stocked with glasses and alcohol and still utterly devoid of people. Most of the floor was an empty space with no tables or chairs to be seen, just an empty floor with signs of construction, such as dusty floors and inconspicuous trash piles.
The thick layer of dust on the floor revealed footprints scattered all around, but most were the same shoe.
Walking in, I slowly strolled towards, gazing briefly behind me over my left shoulder and seeing that the woman stopped near the elevator and leaned against a wall.
Right.
My head snapped to the right and I saw a foot stepping out from behind a far corner.
Within a second the person fully stepped out leisurely, revealing Shoto in dark red skintight pants and a simple white tank top. His whole skinny upper body was a huge artwork of flames and flowers before suddenly stopping just before reaching his forearms. Also, his nipples have piercings.
And his arms, judging by those seams on his left forearm... shit, he has a Projectile Launch System. I may have needed to pack a bigger gun.
I quickly scanned him, as should have been my instinct back then.
Shoto Reiya, age 52. Bounty: 15000 eurodollars. Organized crime.
"Got to admit, you did better than I thought you would." he said in a defeated tone.
I glanced backwards again, no movement.
"Good to meet you too. What do you mean?"
Shoto strolled closer to me, squinted and stroked his chin.
"You are kidding me. No scars?"
"I got a good ripper. I am damn sure nobody you know is better." I responded simply.
Shoto began chuckling and rubbed his forehead.
"You know, I was really serious about the tan. Your idea is better. Come on, sit down."
He gestured towards the bar and turned to walk towards it himself.
I slowly approached while the old man slipped over the counter with ease. This is a negotiation.
Among the bar stools only one was wiped clean from dust.
Sitting down on the stool I noticed that the bar behind the counter was extremely well kept and clean, despite the place it was in. Though I did notice that several holo ad projectors were turned off.
Shoto loudly placed a shot glass filled with tequila from a fancy bottle. It almost had real agave.
"What is this place?" I asked.
He slid the glass towards me and took another one for himself.
"I used to work here a looong time ago. I... reacquired the place from unfortunate circumstances and decided to rebuild it. Still a long way out, as you can see."
I got taken aback.
"Nostalgia?"
He sneered.
"As if. I don't know how to spend my cash otherwise. This is just something that had to be done." he said right after downing a shot he just poured. I decided not to touch mine for now.
"What about cars? Houses?"
He clicked his tongue.
"How original. Besides, it's not like I can enjoy those things. Not with how things are around here. C'mon, drink up. I don't want to drink alone, that would make me an alcoholic."
He then stared at me, waiting.
I'm sure my digestive system implants can manage anything it has in it. I quickly downed the glass.
"Here you go, Rafael. Ease up." Shoto said in a weirdly friendly tone once again, then he turned his back to me and began looking at the bottles of alcohol one by one.
For a second I saw a reflection on one of the bottles. His high tech sniper rifle is just beneath the counter. With the barrel pointed at me at an angle.
Shoto's hands were placed half a second away from shooting my gut through the counter. I think it would eviscerate my entire spine as well, judging by what damage I saw it do.
Can't be too nice.
He began pouring another two shots.
This makes me wonder how much of what is going on was planned or at least intended.
My best guess going in was that he wants to weasel in himself to somehow fall into Wakako's good graces. Since all that he knows is that I was somehow pushed through with her authority.
The longer this goes on the more scared I will get, even if I know this is the goal.
"I'm sorry for being blunt. Why did you invite me here?" I asked.
For a second he placed back the bottle he picked up and turned back, then sighed theatrically.
"I have a valuable piece of information for you. One that I am not sure you would take sober."
That's a quick and easy excuse.
"Come on. I can take it."
"After a few more shots maybe."
"I have to drive back, you know. Can't overdo it."
Shoto raised his palm to silence me.
"Stop right there. You don't. It's alright." he said, with no hint of irritation.
"What does that mean?" I asked.
Is this a kidnapping I walked into?
"You made this car your legal property yet?"
"...No. I haven't got to it."
I don't believe I told anybody who the car belongs to. He looked up even the car's registration. Technically it still belongs to Sprocket.
"Good, good. Now. Is it insured?"
"Don't think so. What about it?"
"This makes it so much easier for everybody. I invited you here to take it from your hands among other things, so no harm will come your way and return things to normal. I will pay, of course." Shoto began explaining as he moved the shot glass closer to me.
"I do not agree."
"But you will. You see, two of my cars have been blown up. Yours will too."
For a second I thought about it: the car itself nor my identity should be implicated. Every Tech Orthodoxy attacker was killed when they attacked.
"I am not sure what you are talking about." I said carefully. I then downed another shot.
"Everyone can be bought. And some of my subordinates leaked the information, and did not live enough to spend the money they have received. I called you the day I found out that they are looking for your car, and, well, your previous persona. Guess which I already took care of." Shoto said, slowing down with every sentence and deepening his voice.
That plan doesn't make sense. The car is expensive as shit. And I doubt I could get a market price out of him.
"Why would you buy it? A decoy for an ambush?" I asked.
Shoto downed the shot quickly.
"Something like that. Not to brag, but I am the fucking antichrist to them, no less. Without their big guy they will probably focus back up on making the new initiates in their insane mess of a religion to donate more creds to the great cause."
"My car is not for sale." I replied.
Shoto calmly leaned behind the counter, with his left hand right near where the trigger of the rifle would be. Fuck.
"Just think about it, it's about your safety."
"I'll just avoid the area. I don't want to sell." I again tried to reason.
Then he began shaking his head and his eyes darted to the ceiling and back to me in deep thought.
An AV flew by outside, flashing bright lights through the barred windows, before disappearing.
"That's not what you are supposed to say. Try again." Shoto said, now slightly frowning. His mask of friendliness slipped.
I heard loud footsteps from the side as the bodyguard approached. Her each step was louder and louder, echoing through this bare concrete floor.
This can be salvaged.
"How much do you know about me, actually? Besides what you forged?" I asked, staring him in the eyes.
Shoto's facial expression did not change even a little, but that silence is all needed for leverage. The footsteps behind me stopped.
"You want the car so bad? Fine. But you're thinking small. I don't want to scare them. I want them gone. Every last one."
Shoto's hands slowly raised up and he reached back into his pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. Sunset Black. Cheapest brand out there as far as I know.
"Mind if I smoke?" He asked.
Before I could get a word in he lit one up and inhaled.
He took his time and exhaled the smoke to the side. It reeked of chemicals.
"Now. Is this business or personal?" He asked, his tone full of amusement.
"Deeply personal. Blood for blood. Can that woman get the fuck away from here?" I pointed backwards with my thumb.
Shoto slowly leaned to the side and gave the Tyger Claw behind me a stare.
I then heard footsteps approaching back to the elevator and the entrance to the room, where they stopped.
It's not entirely personal that I want to eradicate them, but I want to make this gang leader believe that he has leverage on me.
There is almost no chance he can't piece together the death of Sprocket and my actions. Even if I have no proof for now.
"What's your angle, choom?" he then asked.
"Well, killing the leadership outright might backfire." I stated.
He took another drag of his cigarette.
"How so?"
"A martyr's death only inspires the rest to be more zealous, believing their cause is truly just. And who is to say the next guy will be any better? I say you and I expose the so-called Wig Firth. A man this old, in Night City of all places, cannot be a saint."
"Nobody is." Shoto said, once again pouring tequila into the glasses.
"How about we make a good fucking deal right here and now? I worry about using the right people to get in, and you just provide the funds? I wanna see Wig Firth cutting his own throat after we are done."
I then quickly grabbed a glass and downed it.
Shoto Reiya smirked and drank the shot as well.
"Frankly, I give zero shits about what happens to him. Regaining control over my territory is all I need."
He then went silent and began quietly tapping on the counter.
At this point he is probably considering what he has to lose.
He controls my current identity, he can easily unmake it as easily as he made it. He does not have any ties to me. He knows that I will be killed if found out to be the one that ran down their main muscle with car turrets. Or worse, whatever those lunatics do with people.
And now with how I've acted he is probably considering me as a useful tool. I've been mostly polite and sensible to him. Though it doesn't matter much what he thinks of me, just what he does.
Is that right, SC?
Unknown.
Shouldn't have asked. Only a headache. The thing only speaks when it has something to say.
I lifted my shot glass as a sign to refill. It's pretty good. Goes down easily.
Shoto smiled and poured another shot of tequila. But his smile has been exactly the same each time I saw it. Fake bastard.
"Hey, you still have to drive."
I smiled back. I don't know if he can tell that I am also forcing it. Shouldn't matter.
"How much were you planning to get done with my ride?" I asked.
He plans to pour me shot after shot until I get drunk enough.
I don't want to see cars blowing up. Especially mine.
I shifted my gaze towards the guard near the elevator.
"If it was me, I would send one of those to send the message. With the water guns they have will probably bounce off the subdermal."
There was absolutely no reaction from her.
"One would think that. Hate to admit it, but they use some smart shit. Remember the big guy who tried to duel cultist muscle?" Shoto asked, smoking again.
"One that charged in melee?"
I looked over the other drinks behind the bar. Surprisingly cheap shit, contrary to what I have been drinking.
"Yes. They contacted him and taunted him to do exactly that. Fucking gonk. Did his job for years and ended up as mush." Shoto scoffed, offering to cheer, raising his shot glass.
I grabbed mine and cheered, and then quickly downed it. So far the predicted alcohol blood content using the stomach cyberware is far below where I would be plastered.
"He did hold his own for a while." I responded.
"Oh yeah? Worked out great for him. Results are what matter." Shoto dismissed, flicking the butt of a cigarette on the floor and drinking the shot.
He then began pouring another round right after.
"You want their blood. I want to never see or hear from them. It's not the same thing. Crystal?"
Down to business now.
"I'll need an advance of 5 thousand eddies. Then, after 3 weeks I will provide proof of the infiltration."
He slid back my shot glass after a pause.
"And what then?" Shoto asked skeptically.
"Depends on the information I find. But, here are some I managed to get so far. Catch."
I accessed the storage and flicked Shoto the files I had saved from the forums of Tech Orthodoxy a while ago. The information I uncovered while it was under a shitty protection was plentiful but quite useless. To me, it is.
Shoto's eyes lit up and widened. Guess he didn't expect I had the connection protocol established already.
It took a few seconds before he suddenly opened his mouth wide, and reached in with his hand.
What the fuck?
The old man pulled out a data chip from his throat and threw it towards the woman across the whole floor.
"Reimi. Go down and make two copies." He suddenly called out to the woman that stood silently near the entrance.
Her eyes flashed slightly behind the sunglasses and she walked into the elevator, shortly after it began quickly descending.
Reimi.
So they slowed it down on purpose, sons of bitches.
Shoto began sifting through the data, which was mainly full of text.
"Preem. Seems like we have quite a few visits to make." Shoto said.
He is referring to the addresses where they hold conversions to pure tech. Basically scavs but that leave you alive and grateful for the clutch save of your soul. I have no doubt Tyger Claws know of their existence on their turf.
They hold them in basically any part of town they can manage to scrape, mostly being from the property some believers give up for a "great cause."
I can do nothing with that information. But Tyger Claws can cull them as they seem fit. It effectively stops part of their cashflow, since it's pretty obvious that the cyberware is being resold.
Grabbing the shot glass I downed another shot of tequila. Small celebration.
"You are not half bad. I'll see what we can do." Shoto responded by gesturing for a cheer. His face was now brimming with confidence.
I should ask for more.
"Cheers to that."
Getting out I felt my world getting woozy as the light struck me.
Each step rattled my head a little.
My blood alcohol level got too high. I should vomit. But he just kept pouring and pouring, the motherfucker bartender. And I did not take a risk of upsetting his mood. Two mood swings is too much already.
I walked past the Tyger Claws who eyed me the second time around. They are just hanging around waiting for trouble.
Getting out of the building I leaned against a cleaner wall and put two fingers into my mouth.
Here I go.
Expensive synth alcohol rushed free from me.
My throat burned from the stomach acid and alcohol, leaving a lasting aftertaste.
A meddoc should clear the mind if needed. This much is manageable. It should go away quite quickly considering my metabolism.
I took out the medicinal injector for my cyberware and injected it far up my forearm.
Wiping my mouth I began walking back to my car, which was parked quite far. As I walked I noted down every point we agreed to with the Tyger Claw boss in a separate encrypted document. He didn't even move an inch from the spot with his rifle the entire time we drank.
Tyger Claws do not get any methods or programs used to access the subnets of Tech Orthodoxy or anything related to it.
Every interaction with Tyger Claws on the matter is done through Shoto Reiya.
I never claim any street cred by admitting to anything to do with it. This point was implied by Shoto as he wanted him as the reason.
My advance was 5500 eddies and will be provided more for more information, which would be whatever it's worth. Basically he decides how much I get. Doesn't matter much, I get paid to do what I would have already done.
Last point was a fucking masterclass by me. I got the ball rolling to get another identity prepared in case they figure out that old and dusty Caelen is Rafael.
This night I got myself an official identity as a Night City Resident at an automatic kiosk I was directed to, which left no real human connectors to get it done by myself if needed. The identity was verifiable as now my face was scannable and showed off my quickly taken 3D picture.
Once we were done we agreed to meet in person to drink again. Shoto was visibly drunk at that point and I doubt it was a real invitation, but I still noted it down.
He also wanted my car if I got found out. I laughed it off, but now it appears that he just wanted my car. Piece of shit.
In the corner of my eye I saw one especially ugly Tyger Claw standing on the footbridge, silently looking as I approached. Should have parked farther. Get in the folder along with the rest of them.
The door automatically opened up as I approached the Quadra and I quickly got in and drove off. Fuck this part of the city.
On the road I decided on my course, since the meeting took way longer than I thought it would.
I now rushed towards David's apartment. At this time of day he would be on his way back home.
And that meant it could be the time when he gets greeted by Maine and others. Which needed to be avoided for many reasons.
I stepped on the gas and sped up, but I felt the aftereffects of alcohol slowing down my reaction time.
Reaching towards the pocket I took out and inhaled a tiny part of a meddoc.
Turning the steering wheel, I felt the effect of the meddoc clearing my head, but it all still felt muddy.
The drive was short enough and I quickly parked outside the megabuilding.
At this range I could try connecting to the local subnet, but if they have Kiwi with them, it would be noticed. I better stick with the true and tested.
Getting inside I avoided the public gaze and cameras, calmly approaching the apartment.
A huge holo warning about late payment was gone. The rent was paid. Good job David.
Going around the corner I stood near the small window that led into the apartment and listened in closely.
I opened the holo as a small window in the corner of my vision to appear busy.
One minute, two minutes, three... all silent. Just to be safe I stayed 7 full minutes listening for noise from the inside. Those mercs cannot be that silent.
There was nothing, but I heard a scandal on the floor above me in the meantime.
"Get the fuck out, Ricky!" a woman yelled.
"Who is that?" A man protested.
A weirdly modulated voice began talking.
"You are unclean." it said.
Sounds like you are using an artificial larynx through a radio, god damn.
"What the fuck are you talking about? I live here!"
"Ricky, he has to purge my implants from sin!" the woman protested.
Tech Orthodoxy it is. They got another one.
I heard a physical altercation beginning. Slaps and pushes with no end.
"GET OUT!" the cultist screeched.
The door slammed so loud I felt a slight vibration through the ceiling.
"Wait, what? What sin? Hazel?! Hazel?!" Ricky banged on the door and then went silent.
In the silence I went back to listening through the window of the apartment.
In satisfaction with how the apartment was surely empty I prepared to leave. Maybe grab a snack or three on the way? Not many stalls to choose from, but my nose will guide me. Stuff in my car should be emergency only. I can't afford losing time going out just to get another batch.
I began walking around the floor of the megabuilding looking down at my options only to receive a sudden call from David Martinez.
I took a second to gather my mind and responded. In the moment I almost forgot to switch the voice modulator configuration.
"Yes?"
"Yes. Raf? Hello? What's up?" David rattled off.
I felt my blood pressure climb rapidly. Looking around I began walking farther from the crowds and closer to the stairs back down to my car.
"What's wrong?"
"Yes?"
"Raf. Hey. So hypothetically..."
I stopped walking.
"What happened? Are you injured?"
"Okay, there was a thing. Outside the academy."
"David."
"I handled it."
"David." I repeated, trying to get him to slow down.
"Most of it." A pause. He let out a pained groan. "Look, I'm fine. I just- there were these guys and they-"
"Did you kill anyone?"
There was a half second pause from David.
"No. I didn't shoot anyone. I just let them know I have it."
So he did bring the gun with him. I thought it was obvious that it's a stupid idea. And he flaunted it.
It is my fault I did not explain it.
I pressed two fingers against the bridge of my nose and approached the handrail that separated me and the ground floor.
"Okay. How many people saw?"
"What? I don't- I don't know. Just them, I think."
"Who are 'them?'"
"My classmates."
Arasaka nepo kids, they are not going to let this slide. I have to act now. I cannot deal with an Arasaka cyberninja sent by them, or even a lawsuit for that matter. And there is no protection for David from anyone, besides me now.
An opportunity.
Yes it is, SC. But the timing is awful.
I hopped over the handrail and landed on the concrete below.
"Is the gun on you right now?"
"Yeah."
"Keep it there. Don't take it out again. Don't show anyone. Is there anyone from the academy still near you?"
"No, I walked a few blocks." David responded, and I could hear him slowly imagining the consequences.
"Stay where you are. And give me your location."
"Ah? Okay."
In a moment I received his current location, which appeared to be more like 10 blocks down from the Arasaka Academy, closer to downtown.
I was now in a straight line towards my car, and I pushed through crowds of people to get to it as fast as I could.
"Am I getting expelled?" David asked.
I felt a vein popping inside my organic eye.
"That's the least of your problems. Yes, more than likely."
I initiated a NCPD database search, trying to determine if there is an active warrant on David Martinez's head. Luckily there is not.
The door opened and I pressed on the gas even before my ass landed.
"Fuck this day."
I found him two blocks from a MaxTac checkpoint that was thankfully pointed the other way, sitting on a concrete barrier with his elbows on his knees and his head down. Still in the academy uniform. The blazer was hanging off one shoulder, the left sleeve torn at the seam and covered in dried up blood.
I pulled up and looked at him through the windshield for a second before the door opened.
He didn't move right away. He raised his head and I saw that he was beaten to a pulp, with his face covered in bruises and remnants of blood.
He dropped into the seat.
Up close the lip was worse than I'd expected. Split at the corner, dried over but not fully. Knuckles on his left hand were raw.
The knuckles told the better story. He'd gotten at least one of them clean before the gun came out.
I pulled back into traffic.
Neither of us said anything for a block.
"How many?" I asked.
"Three." A pause. "Four. One came from the side."
"And you got one of them."
"Two." He said it quietly.
He shifted in the seat and winced, hand going briefly to his ribs before he stopped himself and put it back on his knee.
I stopped at a red light and took my hands off the wheel.
"The gun." I said.
He tensed slightly. Started reaching behind his waistband.
Taking the Unity I checked the magazine, confirming that it's still full.
Pushing it back in, I grabbed it by the barrel and handed it back.
"Keep it."
He stopped. Looked at me.
"You said-"
"I know what I said. Keep it. How did you get it through security?" I asked.
"I stashed it outside."
He quickly stowed it back where it was.
"They'll call their parents tonight." I said. "By tomorrow morning someone decides whether this becomes a thing or gets buried. Until I know which, you don't go anywhere without it."
"What? I thought you said showing it was stupid."
"Showing it was stupid. Having it is different." I took a left, cutting behind a row of parked freight haulers. "You're not a kid anymore, Dee. Different rules. I think you understand that this won't work out in your favor."
He didn't answer that. Just looked out the window and rubbed his black eye.
The academy blazer was half off him, that torn sleeve hanging.
I drove another two blocks, carefully watching him in the meantime.
Then he pulled the blazer off, balled it up, and held it in his lap. He looked at it for a second, just the ruined thing it was now.
He leaned over and dropped it out of the window.
I watched it in the mirror. It hit the road and a delivery van ran over it without slowing.
He sat back slowly, wincing in pain as he did.
I pulled the trenchcoat off. It had a dark steel wire embroidery of a solar eclipse on the back.
He looked down at it. Dark, heavy fabric, the steel wire detail catching the streetlight for a second. Barely a scratch on it.
"What's this?"
"Mine." I said. "Old one."
It was not old. I bought it at a market stall 6 hours ago. The woman running the stall had three of them and couldn't get rid of them fast enough. Three hundred eddies, which for something this weight and specs was practically a steal.
"Why are you giving me your coat?"
"Because you're sitting in my car bleeding on the seat." I said. "Put it on."
He held it up. It was significantly too wide for him across the shoulders and the sleeves were too long.
"It doesn't fit."
"It will eventually."
He looked like a kid wearing his father's coat.
Which was, roughly, the point. Though I didn't expect for this to happen so fast. I planned to wear this coat for a while before this. Maybe if it got my smell it would be worse. My hygiene is not the best.
"You're gonna have to explain the ribs." I said.
"They're fine."
"I'm not asking because I'm worried. I'm asking because if one of them is cracked you need to know before you sleep on it wrong and make it worse. There is no benefit in you lying to me."
He pressed two fingers into his left side experimentally, trying to be subtle about it. His face told me everything before he could control it.
"Maybe one. But it's really not that big of a deal." He muttered.
"Vik. Right now." I said, restructuring the route.
"Who?"
"Ripper I use. Good one." I said. "Maybe we will get you something else while you are in the chair."
"I don't have-"
"I know." I said. "This is on me. You pay it back later."
He turned to look at me then, that particular look again. Seventeen years old and already good at reading rooms, reading people, because you had to be when you grew up where he grew up.
"You keep doing that." He said.
"Doing what."
"The tab thing. Everything goes on a tab."
"Nothing is free." I said simply. "But not everything has to be paid back immediately. There's a difference."
There is no hiding it, so why should I? Nobody sane would believe in a good samaritan in this hellhole.
"And you decide which is which?"
"For now." I said. "Until you're in a position to decide for yourself."
He ruminated on that, but I caught myself unable to predict what he would decide to do. He could be thinking of starting his stupid BD business idea again as far as I know.
"What do I do tomorrow?" David asked.
"Wake up. Eat something. Wait to hear from me."
"That's it?"
"That's it."
"I'm just supposed to sit while you-"
"Yes." I said.
He set his jaw.
"That's a shit plan."
"It's a temporary plan." I said. "Sitting still for one day while I find out the shape of the problem isn't the same as doing nothing. It means you don't make the problem bigger before I've finished looking at it."
"And if Tanaka's father does something tonight? Before you figure it out?"
"Then I'll call you." I said. "And we'll adjust. Now, an important task for you. Write down everything you know about them and what happened tonight in the greatest of detail. Names, their parents' names, exact words that were said. Give me everything you got, Dee."
"I got it." David responded and began drafting a text.
The rest of the ride was deadly silent as he concentrated on the task.
I pulled up outside Vik's. At this hour he was watching something with the sound too low and dozing through it. Man of habit.
I killed the engine.
"This the ripper? Jig Jig street?" David asked, looking at the side entrance.
"Yes. Come on."
He got out, still in the coat. He'd pushed the sleeves up to his forearms. He stood on the pavement and looked at the BD stores ahead and then back at me.
"Move."
He needs some major upgrades. And Vik's special, the face scanner jammer. No time better than now.
Vik was not asleep.
He was sitting in his chair with a technical manual open across his knee, the TV above him running a boxing replay with the sound off, and he looked up the second the door opened with the particular alertness of someone who had never fully stopped listening even when they appeared not to be.
He looked at me.
Then at David behind me.
Then back at me.
"Who's this?" He said it without inflection, looking over the patient.
"Friendly recommendation." I said. "Same as me."
Vik closed the manual slowly.
David stood in the doorway unsure where to move next.
Vik's eyes moved across him to assess the urgency.
"Sit him down." Vik said finally, and pushed himself up from the chair.
David looked at me.
I nodded toward the chair.
He sat. The coat pooled around him. He looked at the equipment nearby with either genuine interest or a very good performance of it, I couldn't tell yet.
Vik snapped on a glove and tilted David's chin up without asking permission, examining the lip, then the eye, then pressed two fingers below David's ribs on the left side.
David made a sound.
"One cracked." Vik said. "Maybe two. Not displaced." He straightened up. "Manageable. I'll wrap it." He turned to me. "Rafael."
Something in the way he said it.
I met his eyes and waited.
He held the look one more second. Then he turned back to David and began pulling a bandage wrap from the cabinet.
Vik has worked long enough to understand that some things are above his paygrade to pursue. The new face he installed himself. He'd put it together eventually if he hadn't already. But putting it together and saying it out loud were different things, and Vik was smart enough to know which one was the right thing to do.
"Deep breath." Vik told David.
David breathed in and Vik began wrapping firmly. David's face went tight but he didn't make noise, which Vik noticed.
"What happened?" Vik asked.
"School." David said.
Vik glanced at the academy-issue trousers.
"Arasaka?" He asked.
"Yeah."
Vik made a sound that wasn't quite a laugh. Went back to wrapping.
"I had a kid come in years ago. Similar story, Arasaka." Vik said, tying off the bandage. "You know what I told him?"
David looked up.
"Stop going." Vik said simply.
David blinked in confusion and rubbed his eye.
He never told me about that. The only connection Vik should have with Arasaka is V. But the timeline doesn't match up. I should ask about it later.
"Secure the ends." Vik told him, pressing David's hand against the wrap to hold it.
He moved around to his main setup and pulled up a stool, then looked at David's face again, this time differently. Following the orbital bones with two fingers on each side.
"You have a corneal abrasion, kid. Your cornea is ripped off under the cyberoptic overlay. Any pain?"
David looked utterly confused. How do you not feel it? The fuck.
"Get him some new optics." I interjected.
Corneal abrasion takes a lot of time to heal, new eyes are a good fix.
"Optics?" He asked me.
"If you have anything worth putting in." I said.
Vik reached under the counter and came up with a small case. He set it down and opened it.
Two Kiroshi optics. Not the current model. A generation back, maybe two, the casing was slightly broader, the iris mechanism older, the connection interface a previous standard. But Kiroshi was Kiroshi. The core imaging array was still leagues ahead of the competition.
I think this model was released the same year my optic did, but these ones were marketed for their processing speed.
Enhancing the way you perceive the majority of the world around you has proven useful. In all situations. And with David, it's about the best choice out there.
David looked at them.
"What are those?" he asked.
"Better than what you have." I said.
"I have good eyes."
"Those ones are great."
He looked at me, then at the optics, then at Vik.
"Will it hurt?"
"You might get a dry eye. I'll give you a rundown after." Vik said, jokingly.
He sat with that for a second. Then he turned back to Vik and nodded once.
"Lie back." Vik said.
While Vik prepared I moved to the far counter and pulled up the sandevistan inventory on the secondary screen Vik kept open for parts. I knew the make and spec I was looking for before I looked.
The list was short. Vik ran a good shop but not a military supply chain.
Dynalar Sandevistan, civilian line. Reaction modifier, tier one. Reaction modifier, tier two, no cooling system. A partially refurbished older Militech model that had a flag next to it noting the neural synchronization was inconsistent and required adjustment.
That was everything.
I stared at the list.
Tier one civilian. The kind of thing street rats would install once they save up enough, good for catching food that fell off a table and not much else. Nothing even adjacent to what David needed to actually use the hardware the way it was supposed to be used. A fight.
Waste of his specific physiology to put that in him.
I closed the screen.
Behind me, Vik was talking David through the anesthesia. David was asking questions with the clipped, rapid delivery of someone trying to outrun being nervous.
I turned around.
"You got anything military grade coming through in the next month?" I asked.
Vik didn't look up from what he was doing, but no doubt glimpsed while I was browsing through.
"Possibly. Depends on what falls off what truck." A pause. "Why, you looking to upgrade?"
"Something like that."
"The load you're already running," Vik said, still not looking up. "Full military spec sandevistan on top of everything else, I'd want to do a full assessment first. Give it three months minimum. Let the recent work settle." He finally glanced over. "I'm serious. I'm not installing that on you until I'm satisfied the tissue hasn't changed the baseline."
"Gotcha."
He means my overloaded nervous system problem, but intentionally did not go into detail with David around.
But he misunderstood me. Having a cyberdeck and a sandie working in a single body is unheard of. Maybe Vik plans to slow roll me towards that idea, that some things are just not meant to be installed together. Or maybe... SC, will it work out?
Yes. Yes.
My head rang a bit from the quick response. This is an exciting, totally new response. But also... I don't think I have enough money to spare for two sandies. Not to mention the amount of meds I'd have to buy.
This all is so complicated. I shook my head and concentrated on what was going on.
David had gone quiet, the anesthesia taking hold.
I looked at him lying in the chair with Vik working precisely above him, patching up every small wound. The old Kiroshi optics sat beside him on a cloth, and I thought about the gap between what was available and what was required.
Different ripper. Different supply chain. Somebody who sourced from a different direction and didn't ask the kind of questions Vik asked.
It would cost more. The quality control would be worse. I'd have to verify the unit myself before it went anywhere near David. I need to learn the code of the things beforehand, to avoid cyber mega aids.
But it was either that or wait for the right spec to come through Vik's shop, which could be three months or him flat out refusing to work on a kid.
I filed it away and watched Vik work.
David's new eyes would be in before morning. One problem at a time.
David's hand had gone limp off the edge of the chair, the medication dragging him under. The coat had fallen open across the chair and his arm hung loose from it.
Vik worked in silence. The boxing replay ended and the screen switched to a night market ad, throwing warm amber light across the clinic.
"The kid," Vik said quietly, without stopping what he was doing.
"Mm."
"He doesn't have anyone?"
"His situation is complicated. I'll fill you in later, don't want to distract you." I said.
I got a lie prepared, and Vik doesn't know what I'm up to when we are not hanging out.
Vik didn't respond to that. Just kept working, clean and precise, the way he always did. There is no place for my interference.
Silently, I went outside in search of food. The door closed behind me, good.
I strolled further and a homeless guy who had been lying on the ground suddenly stood up and ran away screaming.
Looking over at myself I forgot that I now lacked my trench coat, revealing every weapon and equipment I had on me. Strapped gun, spare magazines, and a grenade on my waist.
I'm actually stupid.
Weirdly, I felt a chuckle coming, just from the ridiculous feeling of it all. I suppressed it down to a smile.
The door next to me slid open and Misty peeked out.
"Oh, hi? Did you scream?" she asked meekly.
That's right, she doesn't know yet.
"It's me, Caelen. New face. Didn't Vik tell you?"
She stepped out fully and looked at me. Really looked.
"He did." She said slowly. "He didn't say how different."
"It was necessary."
She tilted her head.
"It's not just the face." She said.
"I know. I got the voice done too."
"That's not what I mean."
I looked at her.
"Your aura." She said it plainly. "It's different. So much distortion."
Search and Copy.
She doesn't know that. She couldn't know that. Surely it's not magic.
"Life got complicated." I said, trying to be as vague as possible.
"How complicated?"
"I fear going bald in the next few months." I let out a sigh.
She nodded once. Accepted that without pushing, which was one of the better things about her.
"You look tired." She said.
"I'm fine."
"You look tired." She repeated, as if I hadn't responded.
"There's a deep chakra realignment I've been reading about." She said. "For disrupted energy fields. It takes about two hours and you'd have to sit still, which I know is-"
"No."
"It might help with-"
"Misty."
She stopped.
"I appreciate it." I said. "Genuinely. But no. A good night's rest will do the trick."
She looked at me for another moment with that slightly-past-the-surface look.
"Okay." She said finally. Then, quieter: "Just don't forget to not dream too deep."
"Vik told you?"
I didn't mention the weird dreams to anyone but him.
"That's not what I meant."
She held the look one more second then the charm above her door rang from inside. A customer, or the wind, or whatever mechanism Misty had rigged to that thing.
She touched my arm briefly, just above the elbow.
"Come in sometime. Not for the chakra thing. Just to sit."
Then she went back inside. The door slid shut.
I stood there for a second.
Why would I do that? There is no way I can waste my time like that.
I'm sure enough to work all night today, just to sort through all the actions that need to be taken with that "Tanaka." Arasaka doesn't advertise their internal structure much.
But that surname does feel familiar, I heard it before. Wasn't that the guy that the crew kidnaps in the show? He was some Arasaka Academy executive, am I-
Yes.
SC? How do you know that? Source?
Brain.
So you can access the memories I forgot?
Reconstruct.
At that point I started pacing around.
Did I know any more? SC?
At that point I felt weak once again, a sign of SC being more active. My knees buckled for a second.
There are no absolute proven facts. Acquire more data for a search. Preference-visual. Method-find a picture. Look. Look. Look.
I leaned against the wall, unsure how to judge this.
Does that work with any person? How accurate would that information be?
Yes. Highly volatile. Nutrition required. Copy information retention limited.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Each word was like a hammer and I felt it over myself, finding myself unable to react when it was done speaking. I felt famished for food and my mouth watered at the mention of it.
Those dreams are so vague I am not sure what effect they have if at all. The retention rate is- my breath is cut off.
Suboptimal. Slow.
I inhaled as it finished. My head was splitting in two as it tried to answer my questions.
Okay. Okay. How slow? Days? Weeks? Months?
Weeks.
I felt a grin coming to my face. I hate this, but it's so damn exciting. So when I ask to have a copy of a spy experience of another "myself," how long would that take to take an-?
Current. Slow. Interference.
Interference from what?
I now was gasping for air as it became less than manual, forcing me to breathe with my whole chest just for a little air.
You.
Me? I- fuck.
My legs gave up and now I was gasping for air on the bare concrete in the trash. My vision flashed with dark pulsing areas.
Search and Copy, how do I lessen interference from me? Tell me? I want to improve as you told me. I want to know more!
I prepared for another round of pain, but it smoothed out slowly as I regained my senses.
It doesn't know. It doesn't.
I pushed myself off the floor.
Because I interfere?
What kind of a creature was this body without "me" in it? Was SC a bottomless well of potential? Search any skill you want by experiencing a part of it, then copy and have it at the cost of some mild dreams.
I want it.
I grabbed my gun and stuffed it in my waist, then a grenade, which I gently tossed in the trash to pick up later when I came back.
I am famished, and food is what keeps me going. The second part is what brings me hope. I find myself completely fresh after 4 hours of sleep daily. During that time I often see weird dreams of being with other people, which is a process that I could attribute to Search and Copy. I don't know how much I've changed, but
What if I could sleep for more?