Michael 'Magos' Sobronov
My foot lightly pushed down against the break as I drove up to the looming concrete wall that separated Dogtown from the rest of Pacifica 'proper' and by extension Night City itself.
It looked like something that belonged more to a ramshackle concrete fortress ready for war than anything you'd reasonably find jutting out of a metropolis like a sore thumb, but that was only until you remembered exactly who was holed up in there.
An entire small regiment of veteran ex NUSA (read: Militech) spec ops troopers, hung out to dry by their corporate overlords after the failed 'Reunification War' and still held in animosity by our glorious saviors in Arasaka, and thus the rest of Night City as a whole.
It didn't take long for Kurt Hansen, their Colonel and overall leader, to transform the place into a killbox that was simply not worth the cost of assaulting it, and after securing survival rebrand his men into a paramilitary posing as a gang, now going by the name of BARGHEST.
Prisoners in their own territory, really.
One of whom was waving for me to stop my van while I could detect at least eleven more on differing elevation points holding their weapons at the ready, if not already aimed at me.
Why they chose bright neon yellow to highlight their gear I'll never understand. No accounting for taste these days...
The heavily armored man lowered his hand and approached, his expression unreadable as his head was hidden under a helmet and a balaclava and his eyes had been replaced with a boxy but powerful military model "You aren't one of our regulars. Who are you and what's your business in Dogtown?"
I was almost sad at the lack of immediate tension at seeing me.
It was a bad habit, I knew it, but I still enjoyed it far too much to fully get over it.
"Merc and techie." I answered just as curtly "Here for some shopping."
He nodded but I knew that wasn't going to be all "Think we let anyone in just like that?"
"You do if it brings biz to you and yours and we both know it." I jerked my head so as to show off my ride "As you can see, I didn't come to waste anyone's time."
"That's a lot of hardware." He notes, tone still outwardly calm but posture tensing slightly as his netrunner just finished scanning the van.
"I have to protect my investments." I kept my cool as I spoke though "So long as no one makes things difficult for me I'll be in and out without anyone even noticing I was ever there."
"Gimme a minute." He says and backs off, pressing a finger to his ear and subvocalizing the conversation.
Cheeky fucker even had a modulator so it interfered with any attempts at listening in.
"Right." He voiced loudly enough for me to hear and looked back up "You can go in, just don't make us clean up after you, or we'll be having words."
"Of course." I nodded "Have a pleasant day."
He grunts and the gate opens, letting me into the 'combat zone'.
The very instant I drove into the city, I got a call from an unfamiliar contact.
Someone had obviously greased the wheels to get me through.
Feeling a frown coming, I decided to just get it over with.
The call connected and the image of a shadowed man appeared, the only distinguishing feature left visible being two shiny chrome hands.
Which ironically made their identity obvious.
[Mr. Hands, I presume.] I voiced before he could.
[You presume correctly, Mr. Magos.] He returns, a calm cultured voice [I trust my welcoming gift was not too forward?]
So he keeps his fingers on the pulse of greater NC. Unsurprising as he'd probably already be in the grave otherwise but still worth noting down.
[The expediency is appreciated.] I said [But I would have gotten in on my own, eventually.]
[You are a resourceful man. But time is money as they say.] His hands flicker up placatingly, barely enough to be noted but not enough to display any actual concern [It was merely a courtesy, I assure you.]
[In that spirit, you have my thanks.] I nodded [While we talk, could you point me to a place I can park without having to rig explosives to my van?]
[Of course.] He waved a hand and sent me the location, a BARGHEST post where I could have it guarded for a fee. A good enough deal.
[It is a good thing you decided to contact me first.] I began as I drove down Dogtown's narrow streets [I was hoping to contract you for some information gathering.]
[A curious coincidence. I am of course always open for business.] He spread his arms invitingly [What kind of information do you need?]
[Vodoo boys, the new ones.] I tell him [They have been acting up for some time. Me and my associates suspect Netwatch is almost definitely going to get involved in one way or another. I need whatever you can get on them, locations, numbers, plans...]
[You aren't the first to come asking.] He 'slipped'.
Once again, unsurprising.
[I suspected as much, but added motivation never hurt anyone.]
[True.] Hands hummed [But what 'motivation' can you provide that our dear Queen of Fixers cannot?]
[You wouldn't have bothered with my arrival if you didn't want something from me, Mr. Hands.] I deadpan.
[Touche, Mr. Magos. Touche.] He gesticulates conceding [I do find myself in need of some specialized assistance that the locals are unlikely to provide me with the necessary discretion.]
And my stellar rep strikes again.
Good.
[The specifics?] I prompted.
[There is a guest staying at a hotel near the Heavy Hearts club, a factor of Petrochem affiliation going by Gavril Ivankovich. So far I've been unable to insert a mole in his systems.]
[And you want me to get you access?] I raised an eyebrow.
[Without being noticed.] He says [If we are discovered whatever information I get becomes useless. Petrochem agents are... appropriately paranoid.]
[Shouldn't be a problem.] A chore really [However since I'm already paying for your investigation, I am going to need you to sweeten the pot as it were.]
[Naturally.] He accepts immediately [I can waive the entire commission if you do this quickly and quietly.]
Eager, aren't you? [I appreciate the offer but money is not something I am short of. What I need is some more expediting.]
[A respectable sentiment.] He leans forward in his seat, showing no other reaction [How can I help?]
[I've come to Dogtown chasing rumors of a stash of vacuum forged borom alloy microconductors. The tip I got is already a week old so I'm not even sure it is still here but if you can get me the location, and preferably contact with the seller, I will count that as full payment for the mole.]
He doesn't answer immediately, slowly leaning back into his seat and only then stating [Done.]
[Excellent.] I didn't bother worrying if I had undercut myself or not.
Either the man was fleecing me, or taking a small loss to establish contact with a powerful merc as a fresh fixer with a position that was still shaky, it ultimately did not matter whatsoever unless I was to conduct business with him on a more regular basis.
[Then I will leave you to it.] Hands spoke [I have some calls to make.]
[Of course.] I nodded and ended the call.
BARGHEST's fortified garage was easy enough to find, nestled next to the sprawling cross between slum and marketplace that dominated one of the corners of Dogtown. The spec-goons didn't try any bullshit, and simply told me to be back within six hours.
I wired them the eddies for twelve and left.
The harsh April noon sun glared down at me as I began my long stroll to the relative center of the district, passing by the unfinished luxury buildings and ramshackle constructions that sprouted up around them after the fact.
It was like an odd cross between Vegas and a postapocalyptic slum all cobbled up into one big moshpit that came out looking... surprisingly charming, but that may just be the novelty of it, since parts of the district were somehow even more vertical than the rest of Night City.
I couldn't help but whistle as I stared up the mostly finished luxury hotel that stood taller than a megabuilding and only slightly less wide.
But sightseeing was not why I was here, and the suspicious looks of the residents were not helping me enjoy my tourist act in any case.
Dogtown was the place people fled to to hide from the corps or the authorities, the place where people came to disappear, or conduct clandestine business, and damn near all of them had reasons to be suspicious of any and every threat.
And ways to end said threat if worst comes to worst.
I even noticed a few of them eyeing me as I passed but none proved suicidal enough to try something.
Even with my new coat of skin, I was still visibly cyberized, and my armored leather coat did nothing to hide the combat armor beneath, or the small armory of weapons I was carrying around like it didn't weigh me down whatsoever.
I did forego the biker helm for once though, something I found myself doing more and more often in recent days as I tried to separate my two identities even if only tangentually, even going as far as to switch my 'color scheme' to black and gold whenever I was out and wearing my skin, switching the eastern dragon for my personal golden eye motif.
Still kept a leather coat on me at all times though, I loved my coats!
The skin, I was a bit more ambivalent about.
It felt like I was hiding from the truth but at the same time it let me blend into normal society more easily and gave me the ability to, for once, outperform a brick in a glasshouse when it came to subtlety.
Still felt odd though.
'And I should really stop losing myself inside of my head.' I thought dryly as I nearly walked through a hydrant.
The deeper I got into Dogtown the more luxurious the buildings got, some of them even finished and functional, but none quite as eye catching as the Heavy Hearts club, the luxury pyramid-shaped nightclub serving as the good Colonel's base of operations and the meeting spot for the local elites.
Tempted as I was to see what all the fuss was about, it wasn't why I was here and I swerved west to one of the less luxurious and more fortified apartment buildings.
Not bothering with the main entrance, I downloaded the blueprints from the public local net and simply circled the building, crouching under an abandoned scaffold and taking out my backpack.
"Vigile Mk1.7 Activate." I voiced and a small fleshling hand sized black drone crawled out of it on six pincer like limbs, and into my open hand.
Hoping the impromptu live experiment wouldn't become an annoyance, I connected to with my cyberdeck [Begin infiltration protocol.]
The VI of the drone activated and it leapt up the wall, slowly and methodically skittering all the way up top while remaining undetected due to a third of its weight being dedicated to stealth and jamming components.
Finding a quiet way inside was only a question of time and soon the drone had bypassed all the guards around the floor the Petrochem factor was staying at, and completely ignored the location's passive defenses.
Whoever the guy was wasn't all that high up on the totem pole because he didn't even have a proper dweller detail with him, just one passable netrunner currently high off his ass and pretending to do his job while napping.
Either the Petrochem rat was a distraction for Hands, or genuinely that unimportant.
It did give credence to the idea that Hands was using the exchange to establish rapport with me, as I refused to believe he didn't have the resources to do this on his own.
Or things could be as simple as his other assets being tied up somewhere else.
Ultimately, it did not matter.
The moment my drone reached the upper server rooms, planting a worm into anything with an OS became simpler than breathing, so simple in fact I decided to do some snooping while I was at it and gave the local net a bit of an extra once over.
And regretted it immediately.
There was something off with the net, just outside my perception but tangible enough that I knew for a fact something was in there, and it was not something I wanted to poke, at least not without a metric fuckton of preparation.
"Of fucking course." I cursed as I pulled back and ordered my drone to return to me "Let's hope whatever it is, it is nice and shackled, and preferably asleep." Preferably forever too.
A borg could dream...
Mood thoroughly soured, I let my Vigile plop onto my waiting hand and made my way out the way I came, and rang up the handy man.
[Mr. Magos.] Hands greeted [You are certainly as fast as advertised. I hope there were no complications.]
[Of course not.] I shook my head slightly, choosing not to mention my little discovery for now [I have all you asked for and more.]
[And it just so happens I bring similarly fortunate news.] There was a brief flash of genuine appreciation on the man's voice before it sunk back beneath the polite veneer [I have managed to get into contact with the supplier, and arranged a meeting in advance.]
[Awfully confident, Mr. Hands.] I noted.
[Come now.] He waved it off [A man reputed to be among the best of the best in the city when it comes to prowling the net and its many dangers couldn't possibly fail to get through a simple factor's protections. I like hedging my bets when I can.]
[That sounds less like hedging one's bets and more like insider trading.] I said dryly [Which is something I thoroughly approve of.]
He brought a tea cup from next to him and rose it in a mock salute [Indeed, and with that my timeline for investigating the Haitian Voodoo Boys can be moved up considerably. It was a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Magos.]
As he said this I received a packet of information about the meeting in half an hour.
[Likewise, Mr. Hands.] I nodded [Give me a call whenever you manage to dig something up.]
He nods and ends the call.
Despite the maneuvering, I think I liked the guy.
Mentally scoffing, I shoved the thought into the back of my head and began walking back to the marketplace. Hands was nice enough to make the seller come to me it seemed.
I found him cowering in a run down abandoned cafe, not a bodyguard in sight or within detection range.
The seller was a thin man, dressed in an oversized and outdated Militech formal suit, and carried only a sidearm on him to protect himself.
'Suicidal idiot.' My Optics narrowed slightly.
He gulped "Are you the buyer Hands sent?" His voice came out shaky but his eyes remained surprisingly firm.
A quick scan confirmed he was the seller "I am." I nodded "And you claim to have my microconductors."
"They are all in here." He grew more confident as he spoke, placing a thick suitcase on the bar "One thousand chips and fifty kilos of cabling made by Militech's best and brightest."
There was a flash of hatred in his eyes as he said that last part.
But I frankly did not care "Open it. We aren't being watched."
The declaration seemed to startle him but he did ultimately acquiesce "Here." He said, pushing it over.
And would you look at that, my spectrometer told me it was exactly as advertised "I almost expected this to be a dud." I voiced and looked up "How did you survive carrying this?"
He twitched in agitation but managed to control himself "I can take care of myself."
"Doubtful." I told him.
"H-hands said you could pay immediately." He puffed himself up.
"No need for that." I rolled my eyes and wired him two million eurodollars, making his eyes widen dramatically "You got me what I wanted, I have no reason to fuck you over."
His surprise was replaced by doubt but the money was already in his account, clean money no one would ask questions about unless he started spending idiotic amounts at once.
"R-right." He cleared his throat "I guess that's... that?"
"Yes, go." I made a shooing motion "We never saw each other."
He jerked a nod and quickly exited through the back door, leaving me with my prize in hand.
Part of me wanted to immediately rush home and get to work, but I knew it'd still take me days at least to manufacture what I wanted so there was no need to rush.
"I'm already near the market." I voiced idly "Might as well see what the rest of the rejects are peddling."
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Bring me my rock!
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