As soon as the credits were in my account, the address for the chop shop shared and the door was shut, I sagged backward, relieved.
That had been all I fucking needed, but…as much as I hated being railroaded into a deal? That dumb fuck had just given me pretty much everything I needed. Yeah, I’d have to risk my life to get the jobs done, but seriously?
I was going to have to risk it before all of this anyway.
All this meant was that I’d see more of the gang, and when they came to turn on me, I’d be ready for them. There was no way they’d let me claim that kill for Stinger. That bounty would be the end of the deal: Stinger died, then they’d hit me, so I needed to be ready for them.
The last thing he’d done before leaving was underarm toss the medikit at me, making me think he’d been expecting to give me it all along.
Catching it, I’d sighed in relief, totally ignoring his parting words and waving a hand at him in dismissal, triggering the charge on the kit.
It was an older—and cheaper—model, a small dose, but for what I needed? It would make a hell of a difference either way, despite it needing hours to get the job done properly.
I jammed the injector into my stomach, directly below the worst of the damage to my ribs, and hissed in pain. The icy-cold feeling of fresh nanites pouring into me gave me the creeps, as it always did.
Jerking the spent injector out, I tossed it aside, the expensive part of the kit now inside me, assessing the damage and getting to work.
Realistically, I could have held off on the medikit. The nanites that I’d need to be injected with later to bring whatever upgrades I got to life would have done some of the fixing on me, but better that I was in a good place before that.
I dressed quickly, putting my shotgun in the sheath and the shitty handgun on my hip, wearing the last set of moderately clean clothes I had, and set off for the chop shop.
It was an hour by mag-train and on foot—or three hours by cab, and ten times the cost—so that made it simple enough, although I was starving and the bruises that remained were aching like the devil had been at me.
By the time I turned onto the right street, entering the ground floor of a massive old “tech-u-like” store and heading straight down to the basement—ignoring the sales assistants, who in turn ignored me, staring around them in dull-eyed wonder—I was exhausted.
The chop shop was like any other I’d been to: half insanely high-end technology, and half a literal butcher’s slaughterhouse, with bone saws and drills sitting in a bio-detergent bath, ready for their next victim.
“Welcome!” called an insanely cheerful voice from the far side of the room, and I jerked, having missed them in the gloom. “Sorry, friend. Didn’t mean to scare you!” He walked out of the darkness and fixed me with a wide smile, as I glared at him, returning the handgun to the holster and trying to calm my racing heart.
“So…what can I do for you? A new arm? A new hip? Maybe a bionic upgrade?” he suggested, making a suggestive thrusting motion. “You know it makes sense…why just be human, when you could be—”
“Repairs or upgrades,” I interrupted him. “Lucky sent me.”
Those three words resulted in a massively marked difference in the atmosphere. The cheerful and bouncy nature vanished as his lip curled in disgust.
“Oh, he did, did he! Well, you can tell him from me that he pays or he can fuck himself!”
“He sent me here to get thirty thousand creds’ worth of debt paid off,” I growled.
“He’s paying me thirty—” the carver started to ask, perking up, and I shook my head.
“No! He owes me!” I snapped. “I’m here for the work!”
“What!” he snarled, before gesturing at the chair. “You just…you sit. I’ll be right back!” He stormed off, already booting his Keystone to call Lucky, I guessed, his voice rising as he left the room.
I threw myself into the chair and dragged the deck out of my pocket, plugging into my jack, and the other end into the chair attachment.
A menu popped up, asking me to approve access to my mods. That done—and when it could barely get a connection—I was met with a wall of possibilities.
I took a deep breath, and started at the top, both physically, and in importance.
Mod
Tier
Brain
One –Three
Brain mods are separated into three separate distinct designs: Augmentation, Enhancement, and Storage.
Augmentation:
Augmentation deals with augmenting what is already here, and your physical connection to it, including data-jacks, ancillary connectors, and improving your connection to the Aug-World all around us. We’re offering sensory additions and even boosting your access to Aug-World—perfect for modders, hackers, and system designers, as well as all those who want a little more “bang” from the world.
Expansion:
Expansion refers to replacing what you have (to various degrees), everything from adjusting the brain to allow for additional cooling and processing power, to inter-synapse regulation and improved linkages. All things are possible!
Want to be a brain in a jar? Fully dedicated to research? We know who you should speak to!
Storage:
Many functions that we take for granted these days in many of the roles we do are provided by the systems we integrate with. From additional data processing through datadecks to secondary bodies and more, all are controlled by dedicated levels of RI [Restricted Intelligences] or AI [Artificial Intelligences].
Where most store these in the relevant system, for the best coordination and results, a dedicated, personal assistant is required, and they in turn, require storage.
I grunted, nodding as I mentally marked one of these as a definite purchase. There were a thousand, thousand variations, but the shop only had four in stock I could see, and after checking, I dismissed the three tier ones out of hand, pulling up the data on the single third tier available.
Brain Mod
Tier: Three
The Takemoto Cerebrau model is an excellent entry model into the realm of cerebral enhancement, providing an expanded storage capacity, capable of housing a Class 3 RI or Class 1 AI, additional processing power to run those facilities, and a full management suite.
This model is primarily geared toward construction management, providing additional personnel tracking and evaluation enhancements, as well as space to download and store data recognition sets.
Additional:
New this year is the primary scanning and pattern acquisition mod, with free updates for the life of the user, provided the installation is carried out by a Registered Takemoto Flesh Carver.
Warranty: [Void unless installed by Registered Takemoto Staff]
Perception: 12
Mental Power: 12
Durability: 100/100
Slot Cost: 3
Availability: In stock
Credit Cost: 17,000
I tagged that straightaway, making sure no other fucker could come in and grab it, nor the carver decide that he wasn’t doing good gear.
It wasn’t just the text that sold it, although that was good; that it could run a class three RI was nice as well. My APS gear had restricted my RI to a class two, and this would give it plenty of space to roam and eventually I could upgrade it.
It was the video that it played as a demonstration.
It might be sold as a “construction” variant, but target acquisition, tracking of moving markers signifying people as the operator moved a construction mech around and the scanning upgrade?
Hell yes. It needed “data recognition sets” downloaded to it, but that was fine. Why download the specs for building mechanics and so on, when I could download guns, armor, and mods?
It was a case of the scanner would reference the data in the file, so if that file had rifles instead of wood types? No problem.
The management suite was nice as well. No use for it right now—I wasn’t using smart weapons, nor was I likely to any time soon—and installing weapons controllers like the smart weapon guidance systems had always been in my suit in the past…it had a fuckload more space, after all.
I’d take it, though, and hell, maybe I’d even use the Aug-World shit for a change. I’d barely used it at all since getting out, and the military training in me wouldn’t let me use most of its functions to their intended level. But still.
I could treat myself to a little R&R in my room with it later.
Moving on quickly, I had both a spinal and an arm replacement coming, and I needed them both.
I skipped the rest of the mods, not willing to tease myself with what I could have had, and paused on the left arms.
Seven variations, three used. I removed those straightaway. The durability made it clear, even if the fucking price didn’t, that I didn’t want them. They might be specter parts, after all.
The four remaining were tier one to three. The single tier three was seventy-nine thousand, nine hundred, and ninety-nine, and it was nice.
I stared for long seconds at the military-grade arm: the recessed forearm blade, the emergency nanite dispenser, the fucking electrified knuckles, and best of all, the hidden single-shot plasma shotgun in the hand.
Literally, the video showed it lifting as if in surrender, then the palm’s padding split and the nozzle slid out, spitting a blast of plasma into an attacker’s face.
I loved it.
I wanted it.
I closed the video and felt a little scream of complaint from my very soul.
“Later,” I promised myself, going back to the tier twos with a sigh.
They were a massive step down from the three, but they were also a serious step up from the shit I had attached.
This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Looking from my arm to the one demonstrated before me? Hell yes, there was barely any comparison. This was a burger with all the trimmings compared to eating cardboard.
I sorted through the arms quickly, dismissing the others and settling on a mid-range, but seemingly solid model.
Left Arm Mod
Tier: Two
The Nemesis #1 left arm is an excellent introduction to the Nemesis series of full limb replacements. Although missing the more advanced options of its later models, it is both sturdy and quick.
This standard model offers interlinked targeting (weapons system permitting) as well as enhanced strength and a single augmentation slot in the forearm for a tier 1-3 weapon or utility add-on.
Warranty: [18 months]
Strength: 14
Durability: 100/100
Slot Cost: 2
Availability: In stock
Credit Cost: 6,999
I nodded to myself. This and the brain mod would be a hell of a change, and it came to twenty-five thousand. Well, a credit under, but fuck it. I had thirty thousand to spend here before looking at my gear, and I quickly brought up the spinal tap models, or I tried to.
None available.
Great! Spinal reinforcement?
Two choices: one was a tier one, and sixty percent durability. Nope. The tier two, though? It was…well, it was all right. Looking it over, I grunted, before adding it. It wasn’t what I wanted, but after a few days, I already knew the one I had was destined for the scrap heap, and this one was made by the same people as the arm. As much as all the companies denied it publicly that there were any issues mixing and matching? Everyone knew that the best results came from modding using the same kit. There were always little “niggles” that showed up in twitches and tremors, or addled zoom functions and so on. Best to avoid it if I could.
Spinal Reinforcement
Tier: Two
The Nemesis #1 Spinal Reinforcement Mod is an excellent introduction to the Nemesis series of body replacement and improvements. Although missing the more advanced options of its later models, it is significantly improved over the standard biological issue.
This spinal modification offers stability-enhancing internal bracing, enabling overloading with significantly lower chances of damage, as well as additional attachment points for internal bracing, armoring, or organ replacements.
Warranty: [12 months]
Toughness: 11
Durability: 100/100
Slot Cost: 2
Availability: In stock
Credit Cost: 6,999
With that, I was up to a hair off thirty-two thousand, and that was fine; I still had over forty-seven thousand credits.
Decent armoring and weapons would strip me of that pretty fucking fast, but honestly, I needed one more mod, despite the risk of chipping too much shit in one go.
I needed at least one, if not both, of my eyes done.
I’d always avoided getting the eyes done in the past, despite the advantages, and only partly because mil-spec gear compensated. Literally, in an APS? I didn’t need any shit beyond the spinal tap and brain mod, and that was to control the suit and to link into the command net.
The main reason, and I’d been open about this with my friends, was the absolute freak-out I’d had when I’d been new to the forces, and I’d gone to get my right eye chipped to give me night vision.
I’d been fine, understood everything mentally that was about to happen, and I’d even let them put the needles in to numb the area up. But the sight of the drill coming for me?
Sliding forward, unhurried, a serrated, circular drill bit that was going to literally carve the eyeball into shreds, my eyelid being slowly cranked back by the separators?
Nope.
Panic rose in me, and I’d been young enough and inexperienced with fear enough that I couldn’t manage it. I’d freaked out totally, ripping gear off me, screaming.
It’d cost me nearly as much as the implant would have in the various drugs, the damaged equipment, and in shutting the fucking carver up, and I’d ended up having nightmares for years about it.
Now, though?
If I was going to do what I needed to, and to survive the undercity? A simple set of goggles, or indeed any equipment that could be taken from me, wasn’t good enough.
I needed to able to fucking see.
I forced myself to open the section for ocular implants, and I moved through them slowly, swallowing reflexively against the sudden block stuck in my throat.
Mod
Tier
Eyes
One – Three
Ocular mods are separated into two separate distinct designs: Augmentation and Enhancement.
Augmentation:
Augmentation deals with augmenting what is already here, offering additional clarity, color corrections, and fixing damage.
Expansion:
Expansion refers to expanding beyond the current biological system, adding zoom functions, integration with external scopes, additional scanning facilities, heat vision, and more.
I chose the enhancement drop-down, even knowing that they’d be replacing rather than “fixing” the eye, which freaked me out even more, before selecting Night Vision and Target Acquisition and Scanning Interface, figuring it’d only help me if both the eye and brain mod were compatible.
The single expansion option that came up made me swallow my steadily rising bile. It was a dual ocular full replacement—both my eyes, blended up like a fucking protein smoothie and removed, then brand-new ones being connected and slid in.
Fuck.
Ocular Mod
Tier: Three
The Suba Systems 2701 Ocular Expansion is one of the top-rated ocular tier-three mods available on the market, providing not only night vision, but zero-light vision out to 200m, movement and pattern recognition, and a 50m zoom facility included for a fantastic price!
Perception: 12
Durability: 100/100
Slot Cost: 3
Availability: In stock
Credit Cost: 29,999
With all of those, I was down to just over seventeen thousand. Hating the damage that was being done to my credit balance—I still needed goddamn guns and body armor, after all—I pulled up the medikits, knowing that a chop shop would have some.
Yeah, a decent selection there, ranging from the smallest range at two hundred credits, to a hundred thousand.
Snorting, I dismissed the top and bottom end, taking three for a thousand each, still classed as “small” medikits. They were tubes, slightly thicker and longer than my thumb, with a needle at one end that deployed into the damaged area.
Medikits themselves were generally available, but you couldn’t get the nanites just anywhere. Once used, like credit-chips, the kit would be blank, and there were plenty of the poorest in society who crept around searching for them, taking them to chop shops and selling the empty dispenser back to them for a credit.
The chop shop kept them wherever until they were needed, and rather than using the nanites to ensure a full and correct bond between a customer and their new mod, they simply “filled” the medikit.
Sure, you could get specific tailored ’nites if you had the money, and they’d be much more effective, meaning you needed less of them to heal an injury and so on, but getting “blank” pure ’nites coded to you? That was something only corpos could afford.
I picked three of them, then dismissed the screen, settling back, listening for the first time to the argument I could just about hear going on in the next room.
“…the deal! I paid that back and…”
“…”
“…then tell him to go fuck himself. I’m not…”
“…”
“No!”
“…”
“No, fuck’s sake, Lucky! Don’t tell him that, all right?”
“…”
“We agreed!”
“…”
“…fuck’s sake, you better!”
“…”
“Thirty thousand?! Fuck you! No way!”
“…”
“…shit, man, you think I care? I can’t afford to restock for that! Fuck, look—no, you listen, Lucky! The parts? Yeah, I can do the parts, as long as you hold up your end. But the ’nites? It’s all I’ve got! I can’t restock, I can’t work! I might as well close the doors and fuck off!”
“…”
“How much’s he got?”
“…”
“…he better. Last time, Lucky. Seriously, you don’t pay me by the end of the week? I won’t be here. And that debt? I’ll sell it.”
“…”
“…you don’t like it? Pay on time! We both owe him. You bury me? I’ll take you down too!”
A handful of minutes passed, before the carver walked back into the room, forcing a smile, until he saw my face and that I was staring at him.
He clearly put two and two together, before sighing. “Guess I need to remember to take those kinda calls elsewhere, huh?”
“Probably a good idea,” I agreed, and he snorted, grabbing one of those weird little kneeling cushioned stools, and dragging it over to my side.
He half sat, half knelt on it, somehow still looking comfy as he leaned back, arms folded. “So.”
“So.”
“You’re in debt to them as well, huh?” he asked, getting a sharp nod in return. “You know what this is costing you?”
“The thirty k worth of mods?” I asked, getting a frown and a nod. “Yeah, I know, and I know the likely outcome.”
“You think you can pay it off?”
“I can.”
“No, seriously, you think you can pay this off? You can’t. Once the gang gets its hooks into you, they don’t let go.”
“Five jobs, and a hundred grand’s worth of salvage mods,” I said flatly. “That’s the deal, not that you need to know, but once that’s done, I’m out.”
“The hundred grand’s worth of mods.” He smiled crookedly. “You know who decides their worth?”
“We will between us,” I said. “Lucky and me.”
“Nope,” he corrected. “Look, I don’t need this shit, but take it from someone who knows—you’ll be handing those mods in and they’ll be checked by the syndicate. They decide what something’s worth.”
“The deal’s between Lucky and me,” I growled.
“Lucky works for Oshbob. Nobody fucks with the orc. If Oshbob says he owns your debt? He owns it.”
“I’ve got a shotgun that’ll say different,” I assured him.
He shook his head slowly.
“Fine. Look, friend, last chance to back out. You get these parts into you, and they won’t let you go.” He gestured to the wall, where the used mods hung as demonstrations. The sealed and pristine new ones were still in special see-through containers behind locked doors, just like the nanites themselves in their storage cradles. “You ever wonder where most of the used parts come from?” He smiled sadly.
“I’m guessing not from people upgrading, the way you’re looking at me.”
“Nope. They’re people who don’t pay their debts. That’s what’s left of them. Just be sure that you want in. As long as you haven’t taken their money yet…”
“I took credits already.”
“Fuck.” He sighed, rubbing at his eyes, clearly tired, before shaking his head and forcing a smile. “Well, guess there’s no point in discussing it any further. We might as well get started. Thirty thousand in mods…”
“I’ve picked some out, and I’ll pay the rest in credits.”
“Really? Well, fuck, that’s a relief.” He perked up, sitting forward and squinting as he accessed the selection I’d made. “Nice, you’ve got some good kit there,” he said a few seconds later. “What’s wrong with your current loadout?”
“Besides it’s mainly shit and tier one?” I forced a smile. “EMP.”
“No shit?”
“Nope.”
“Anything still work?” he asked, then shushed me when I went to answer, instead dragging a fixed scanner on a mobile arm across the room from behind the chair and starting to click away at things. “Right, settle back. I’m gonna assess your gear, see what we’re working with. Then we talk. And if you can afford it, and run it, we get started, right?”
“Right.” I sighed, settling back into the chair and trying to get comfortable, even as I tamped down my fear.
The chair was an old one, but well made, a cradle system that supported each limb or part separately, and held straps to make damn sure I stayed still during delicate proceedings.
As I stared upward, watching the solid arm with the scanner attached inch down my body, I forced myself to stay where I was, working from the top of my head down, picking out each individual muscle I could, tensing it and relaxing them one at a time.
I’d just gotten to my stomach, then the paddle cranked back out of view, and he grunted, pulling a screen around for me to look at.
“Your implants are fucked,” he said without preamble. “Seriously, your arm? Battered, sure, but the nanites are totally dead. The spinal reinforcement is screwed. Does it work? Yeah, sort of. You’re losing around a quarter of the impulse control from the T10 vertebrae down—you’re having to force the signals through. Judging from the quality control on that model? I’m betting that it’s always been shit?”
“Yeah, had to practically relearn to walk,” I admitted, getting a nod from him.
“Thought so. Well, that needs replacing, and frankly, it’s barely worth the cost of scrap. I’ll give you fifty for it, and that’s being generous. It’s too fucked to reinstall.”
“Done.”
“Good man. Right, your organelles—they’re intact, but about a third of their ’nites aren’t responding. An influx of nanites when we reattach the new shit should deal with all of that, but get ready for some really nasty shits in the near future.”
“Good to know, thanks.”
“I’m serious. Avoid anything spicy, or you’re gonna be praying to the gods of blood and chrome to end it all.”
“I’ll remember,” I assured him, getting a long stare, before he shrugged and moved on.
“Whatever. Not my problem. So the organelles will survive, and so will you, but you might not want to. The arm is, well, it’s shit. Fifty credits.”
“Done.”
“Next is the biggie. Brain mod. It’s a Wilmat three hundred, basically the entry-level model for Wilmat, only sold as the three rather than the one, because nobody wants to buy a tier one that admits it’s bargain basement stock. It’s basically housing for an RI while not providing the processing power to use it. And yeah, the quote they use is ‘unbelievable tracking and pattern recognition as standard’ because, once you use it? You can’t believe how shit it is.”
“Yeah, believe me, I know.”
“Well, the good news is your RI is intact. The mod is barely responding to pings, and I seriously doubt it’s responding to you at all. I’ll give you ten.”
“Ten credits?” I asked flatly.
“Believe me, that’s being fucking generous. What use do I have for it? Nobody will buy it. It’s basically the shittiest mod on the market. Why you bought one is beyond me.” He fixed me with a look, and I nodded, sighing.
“Fine. One condition, though.”
“Go.”
“You fix my goddamn Key,” I said flatly. “The fucking EMP killed it and left me having to jack in using a cable.”
“Yeah, don’t worry,” he said with a faint smile. “You’ll be needing that anyway. I already factored it in with the ten-credit offer. So, all your mods to me for a hundred and ten, and your replacements, once the thirty thou is off, come to…nice.” He broke off, having apparently just noticed the total. “Thirty thousand, nine hundred and ninety-seven credits.”
I winced, doing the math and coming out with seventeen thousand, one hundred and twenty-five credits left.
That was a hell of a lot compared to what I’d had the last few days, but still, no armor, no new guns and…
“And three medikits,” I added, and he smiled, adding them to the bottom of the list. Fourteen fucking thousand. Ouch.
I stood, stripping off and climbing back onto the chair at his direction as he fetched the medikits, setting them on the table to the side, each empty, but ready for the nanite infusion.
“Jack in and authorize the transfer and—”
“And you knock me out,” I said. “No local nerve blocks. I need to be asleep for this.”
“You’re a trusting man then.” He smiled, and I snorted, slotting the cable into my jack.
“No, not at all. But let’s face it—you fuck me over? The gang fucks you over because they’ve lost their investment. I go to sleep, and while I don’t like it, I wake up and everything’s either fine or you’re fucked up. It’s not like you couldn’t do something to me when you’ve got the nerve blocks in, or when you’re working on my brain.”
“Fair point,” he agreed. “So…you ready to get chopped?”
“Never been more ready,” I assured him grimly. The transfer went through, the knock on the shop’s credit account smooth. “Rebuild me, carver. Make me better.”