Chapter 11

In the end Lizzy threw me 7500c for the Samsung IA, and I got to keep everything else. Doc had even done a quick install for her while she was here. It turned out that the gold chrome on the back of her head/neck was Samsung support chrome and was especially modular, which meant it only took the doc a good 15 mins to swap in the new Tier 2 IA. With the new gold chrome IA in place her chrome was looking pretty damn nice, and much more homogenous. I hadn’t even noticed the metallic blue of her previous IA as it had blended into her hair. Doc made some mention about how all she was needing now was a high end Samsung nanite package to cool her blood down and she’d have a fully equipped elite netrunner kit.

Lizzy had taken off fairly quickly after that since she wanted to give her new chrome a test run, and didn’t really need to stick around for Sara’s surgery. I basically just traded the bones for the install fee for the Titan Alloy subdermal armor, and even after sending 100 grand to Sara I still had over 110 grand myself. I couldn’t stop smiling. Although, as I sat on a bench against the wall watching a weird TV show on a tablet that Doc had supplied while I waited, I couldn’t stop thinking about the Sakura chrome I had in my inventory. As tempted as I was to magically pull it out of my bag and ask the doc for an immediate install…Well it could wait til tomorrow. I’d want Sara fully recovered and watching my back when I revealed this stuff. I like Doc, but this stuff is nearly priceless and I don’t want to tempt him by showing up alone or unprotected.

Sara’s surgery went perfectly according to Doc, who had just sat in his wheeled chair poking at his tablet occasionally while his ripper chair seemed to do all the work. Doc had given her a few AeroMed inhalers with orders to use one tomorrow morning and the other two as needed if the itching got particularly bad while she finished healing over the next 48 hours or so.

Sara was practically skipping as we made our way back to the apartment. She’d notified BurgerDepot that she quit practically as soon as the creds I’d thrown her had hit her account. She was planning to find us a better apartment tomorrow as well as gearing up properly for merc work.

I’d mentioned that I was planning to get some chrome of my own tomorrow and she’d agreed to join me for my already scheduled appointment back at Doc’s place at noon. I’d made sure Doc had BioTech Titan Alloy subdermal armor available and that was ostensibly the plan, but I was also planning to see if I couldn’t get that skeleton and IA installed while I was there. I was holding off on the nanoplating for now since I hadn’t been able to find any information about chrome with that name. Even Doc hadn’t heard of it before.

It really had been a long day, but a damn fine one. A quick shower and I hit the sack while Sara complained facetiously about having missed Leather Skin. I’d thought the show was a weekly thing but apparently she’d been catching up on back episodes and the semi finals were later this week, and now she had no idea what happened to her favorite designer. I sighed as I lay on my bed, waiting for sleep to take me, a smile crept over my tired features as I realized I’d soon have an IA capable of dropping me into instant unconsciousness. The thought followed me happily into my dreams of flashy chrome.

==

I woke up with a mouthful of my own hair and jerked up spitting and trying to tongue out the wad of drool covered fur as I pawed at my face. Okay this hair has got to go. Long hair was never my style and I see no reason to start rocking it now. “Bleh,” I uttered with no small quantity of disgust as I wiped at my face and made my way to the bathroom where I ran some sink water over the already damp portion of hair. “Yuck.” At least my newest bullet wound on my forehead had healed overnight.

My clock said it was only 9AM, so I had some time to kill before my install appointment. “Yep, it’s haircut o’clock,” I muttered as I headed back to my room to get changed. I’d found that I actually had some spare clothes in the box in my room and grabbed the only set I hadn’t worn yet. All three sets were pretty identical. ComfortWeave pants with automold holster in black, brown, and slightly darker brown, accompanied by Comforweave T-shirts in red, faded red, and black. The only difference between them was the colors. I grabbed the black shirt with the dark gray CW logo that I hadn’t worn yet and threw it on along with the pair of black pants. Not the most extensive of wardrobes. Yet another thing I could fix now that I had money. Might as well wait on the clothes til we get that new apartment. Gonna be dragging enough stuff there as it is. No need to add to the collection ahead of having to move it.

I tossed on my trench coat and made sure all my guns were secured and loaded. Only to notice that my MilSec .38 was empty, and I had no rounds or clips to reload the thing. Guess I need to hit Gary’s while I’m at it, I thought to myself as I headed out the door. I brought up my map app, looking for somewhere to get my hair cut. Ah, perfect, there’s a place right across the street from Gary’s. I took my time walking north up the sidewalk. I did want to get a jog in at some point to try to hit level 2 on Body but also didn’t want to show up to get a haircut while sweating, or breathing heavily like a weirdo.

15 minutes later, after an uneventful stroll, I walked into The Good Hair Day, past a series of holograms shifting a woman’s hair into dozens of different cuts in the space of seconds. A woman with a bright green mohawk looked up from a tablet where she sat behind a counter. “Welcome to The Good Hair Day, sir! You’ve definitely come to the right place to fix that boring cut you’re wearing. Is there a particular stylist you’re interested in?” She asked in a decidedly upbeat manner.

“Nah, anybody that can hack all this hair off my head will do just fine,” I replied with a grateful smile.

“In that case, just head to the back, last chair on your left. Maria will be with you in just a minute.” She told me, already turning back to her tablet.

I walked back to the indicated chair, past a half dozen other customers who were having their hair teased and styled by men and women with particularly daring hair styles, and took a seat, looking at myself in a proper mirror for the first time since I’d woken up in this world. Still tripped me out a bit, seeing myself wearing Nathan FIllion’s face. Though I still had somewhat sunken cheeks, and I’d say I was still quite thin, if I was being charitable. Otherwise I’d say I looked positively anorexic.

“Well you’re not a moment too soon,” said a voice coming up behind me that I quickly connected with a middle aged woman with bright purple hair cascading to her shoulders in a series of improbable curls. She met my eyes in the mirror, “Here, take a look and see if any of these styles appeal.” She waved her hand towards the mirror and my reflection was replaced with a dozen renditions of my head, each wearing a different haircut. I blinked in surprise and started parsing through them. Mohawk? Nope. Ponytail? Nope. Trying to get away from the longer hair. Hmm, shaved entirely? Nah. Hmm, that fauxhawk with the short sides looked pretty decent.

“Top row, far right, that looks pretty good,” I told Maria.

“Excellent choice, that’ll look much better on you. Now what color are we thinking?” she asked, waving her hand at the screen again. The non fauxhawk hairstyles disappeared and were replaced by identical fauxhawks in various bright colors. Neon green, platinum blonde, two bright shades of blue, the same purple Maria was sporting, bright pink, orange, red, orange red, I looked through them all until I came to the bottom right and smiled.

“I’ll take the far right, bottom row,” I stated happily.

“Oh!” exclaimed Maria, surprised. “Ah, that one probably shouldn’t have been on the list. Um, are you sure that’s the color you want?” she asked with what sounded like embarrassment in her voice.

I nodded decisively. That’s definitely a pretty cool look, especially with my all black outfit I’m wearing today. “You’re the boss,” said Maria, uncertainly, with a resigned shrug. “The customer is always right in matters of taste.” She nodded to herself in the mirror as the various color options disappeared and went back to the standard mirror.

Maria held up the index and middle finger of her shiny, chromed out right hand, a sudden buzz started up and I noticed that there were short moving blades along their inner edges. She held out my hair with her left hand and ran my hair between those buzzing fingers, and my hair fell away. She began moving faster and faster, running the fingers of one hand through my hair and buzzing locks off with her other, and I noticed that a small tube had snaked up from the back of the chair and was sucking in the hair as it was cut. It couldn’t have taken more than 3 minutes before she stopped. The buzzing cut off and she reached for a bottle on the counter beneath the mirror. A quick squeeze deposited a large glob of a translucent blue gel onto her hand. She rubbed her hands together and then ran them through my hair. In short order she’d perfectly sculpted a fauxhawk, exactly like I’d seen in the mirror. She moved over to a nearby sink and rinsed off her hands. Returning, she opened a drawer below the counter and did a quick search, coming back a moment later with a black spray bottle. She gave one small careful spritz to the right side of my head and then moved to the left and repeated the deliberate spray. Her attention on my hair was total as I watched in the mirror and saw that my hair was gradually changing color. It took almost as long as the haircut itself, but, while I watched, my hair changed from a fairly average brown to a black so dark it almost looked like a hole in reality. I turned my head and saw the fauxhawk was just barely visible within the darkness of my hair. I smiled. Damn, that’s a straight badass look.

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Maria just sighed, “I hope you like it,” she said, doubtfully. “That’ll be 45 creds, 15 for the cut, 15 for the style, and 15 for the color.”

“It’s perfect! Thank you, Maria!” I said happily, sending her the creds. I hopped up from the chair and looked at myself. Ok, yeah, nailed it. I felt a wide smile stretch across my face as I made my way out of the shop.

I thought I heard Maria mutter something about, “...in matters of taste.” But it wasn’t relevant. Walking out of the shop, I stood on the sidewalk, waiting for an opening in traffic. I kept overhearing laughter from passing pedestrians for some reason and wondered if something was going on. But mostly I was just focused on not getting squashed by another truck as I ventured out into the road. It took a few minutes, but I found my moment and ran across the street to Gary’s Gun Garage.

I strode confidently into the shop and right up to the counter. “Well here’s a proper villain!” said Gary with a happy laugh as I walked up.

“Mornin’, Gary! Got a few things I needed, gun related, and of course thought of you.” I said cheerfully. I was feeling good with my new look.

==

I’d picked up some good stuff at Gary’s. Got a silencer for my .38, two extra clips, and a holster that would accommodate them and the silenced gun which was now clipped to the back of my belt. I’d also picked up a couple of spare clips for Fuji’s .45 that I’d slipped into my inventory, and a handful of .45 ammo boxes that had gone to the same place.

But my biggest purchase had been a new gun entirely. I’d expressed my unhappiness at being unable to put a round through the skull of some of these borged out chrome jobs and Gary had helpfully gone through a few options with me. What it came down to ultimately was either penetration or explosive force. I’d paid ten times the price for my .45 ammo to get armor piercing rounds, though Gary said not to put too much faith in the name. They were supposed to do a better job than the standard fare but weren’t magic. Gary had run through some other options as well, like explosive ammo. He’d strongly recommended against any type of explosive rounds though, as they were supposed to have the horrible reputation of exploding in the hands of whoever was trying to use them. Gary didn’t even sell the stuff it was so dangerous. My only other options were to go a tech route. Higher caliber with more powder pushing the round was a popular option in Gary’s opinion, but I didn’t really feel like getting into the whole sniper rifle thing just yet. There were laser type guns on the market that could cut through damn near anything, or at least heat up the interior of a guy’s skull til their brain melted out their ears. Those cost hundreds of grand minimum to pick up though, so I wasn’t at that point just yet.

Ultimately I’d gone through a tablet filled with guns until I found a few that I thought would suit, and Gary had called a guy he knew was looking to sell a Colt Bulldog, one of the guns I liked the look of. I’d spent some time firing off the remains of the standard ammo on my belt in the range while I waited for the guy to show. The guy had looked sketchy as fuck, kept twitching and asking Gary if I was for real, but Gary told me he was solid, and reassured the twitcher that I was indeed for real. Gary even did a free check of the gun before I bought it off the guy. The Bulldog was a rectangular chunk of rugged metal that barely looked like a gun at all. It was a dull, scratched up piece that looked like nothing more than a hunk of iron with a handle gouged out of one side, with a hole through it for the trigger, and a barrel that protruded a bare centimeter out of the end. It used large, square, clips that held seven rounds and a built-in battery. The battery was essential, as the Bulldog was one of the lower end railguns available on the market. Gary told me to hold onto the clips after I emptied them and he’d be able to charge and reload them for me as needed for relatively cheap. I’d only bought two extra clips, it came with one, but the spares had run me a grand each. At least the shoulder holster the gun came with was included in the price. Add on the ten grand for the gun itself, which wasn’t a bad deal as they cost fifteen new, and I was down a total 13650c on the visit. Gary had been happy at any rate.

As I walked down the street, I patted the Bulldog where it sat under my left arm inside my trench coat. I was pretty happy too if I was honest with myself. Sucked that I couldn’t really use the new gun yet though. Gary had been firm that the kick on the Bulldog was legendary for breaking people’s wrists and/or arms if they didn’t have enough chrome. I was mostly just carrying it because I kinda loved the thing, or maybe for absolute emergency type deals.

I spotted an opening in traffic and ran across the street while I had the chance before continuing south for a few minutes before I got back to The Carlton. A worn down looking woman in skin tight red plastic, exiting the building as I entered, started cackling with laughter as I walked past. Man, seems like people have been laughing everywhere I go today. What the heck’s going on? I wondered. I grabbed a LimeSlime out of the vending machine on my way to the apartment and popped the top, taking a long swig as the apartment door slid open when I approached it.

I walked in to see Sara sitting with her arms spread on the back of the couch, watching Tv with a LimeSlime of her own in hand. “Hey, I’m back. Got a sweet new gun from Gary’s,” I said as I walked over to the couch.

Sara seemed to be pretty into her show and just grunted as she took a slug of her beverage. Then her eyes shifted to me as I passed in front of the TV. And she spewed green sludge out of her nose and mouth simultaneously and began sputtering and coughing even as she howled with laughter, pointing at me for some reason. “What?” I asked, confused.

She just seemed to laugh all the harder even as she tried to wipe the slime off her face with her arms. She looked like she was about to answer when she looked up at me and broke out into fresh giggles. Unable to speak, she just pointed at me and then pointed at the TV. I turned and looked up to see some sort of action drama on the screen. A chromed out hero type on the screen valiantly declared, “You’ll never succeed, Doombringer! The people of Noir City will stop you! Your dastardly plan to replace all BioTech SuperSilk products with the inferior and terrible scratchiness of ComfortWeave will never succeed! Even if I can’t stop you, someone just like me will rise up in defense of the superior product!” Ah, I guess this is a BioTech sponsored show. The camera cut to a man in a black trench coat with his head thrown back as he cackled maniacally, “Muahahahaha! My genius knows no bounds, you BioTech lapdog! Once my drones have covered the city in CW spray, all your comfortable clothes will be just as scratchy and horrible as the clothes I wear every day! You shall know TRUE DISCOMFORT! Muahahaha!” As the villain lowered his head I saw his hair…his pure black hair. I froze. Shit. His pure black hair, his pure black coat, his pure black shirt and pants.

I looked down at my own nearly identical outfit as Sara’s laughter picked up another notch. I just hung my head and sighed. I really don’t know fuck all about fashion, do I?

==

15 minutes later saw me back in The Good Hair Day, where I’d been dragged by Sara. Maria had been available and had gladly agreed to do my hair in another color per my sister’s request. I wasn’t really allowed to get a word in edgewise as my sister continued to laugh at my expense, even drawing in some of the other hairdressers and customers into chuckling along at my ‘fashion don’t.’ Sara had picked a color off the screen and Maria had given me a quick spritz with the appropriate dye. Less than 5 minutes after I entered, I was leaving with my hair colored Sakura Pink. Maria had espoused how the color had only been available to the public for ten years, as it had had to be reverse engineered, a process that took decades for some reason.

Sara immediately dragged me back towards The Carlton but stopped off at a clothing shop called Defensive Fashion, a shop with a large hologram depicting a woman ramming a stiletto heeled shoe into a large man’s head over and over. Sara all but ripped off my trench coat and stuffed it into a drawer sticking out of a bullet proof glass covered counter not unlike Gary’s.

“Hi, my idiot brother needs to not look like a TV villain. So I was hoping you could tailor this coat to fit him properly and dye it a different color,” Sara said cheerfully to the bored looking young woman behind the counter. The woman looked up from a tablet with pink and green eyes that matched both her hair and her studded leatheresque jacket as she looked me over, and then snorted in amusement.

“Yeah, all he needs is the black hair, huh?” She pulled out the jacket from the drawer and ran a professional eye over it. “Hmm, Tier 1, not terrible. Bad fit though, yeah. Umm…looks like I can get that resized for you, sure. Here’s the color palette that’ll work with this fabric.” The woman flicked her fingers towards Sara, and I realized I wasn’t getting a say in this either. A moment later the woman nodded and stuffed my coat into a hole on the counter behind her. “That’ll be ready in 69 minutes. Anything else?” asked the woman, already seeming bored with the interaction.

“Yeah,” replied Sara, “I could use some shirts for him while I’m at it. Nothing black of course, ideally, Tier 1, he looks ok in red.

The woman’s duo colored eyes went vague for a bit as she seemed to be looking something up. “Looks like we only have two in stock that meet your parameters,” she flicked her fingers at us and this time I got a message actually showing the shirts in question. The first was a FuzzFuzz Tier 1 long sleeved shirt in blood red, it buttoned up the front and had a decent collar. I liked it, especially as Tier 1 armor. The second shirt gave me pause. It was a familiar bright red T-shirt with a bright yellow McDonald’s brand M logo in the center of the chest.

“McDonald’s?” I asked.

“Yep,” the woman responded seriously. “That’s a limited edition from a few years back, never worn of course. Damn fine product. You’re lucky it’s still available in your size.”

Sara bought them both.