"Such a stupid thing to do."
"Pulls one job and thinks he's untouchable."
"Could have gotten himself shot and I'd be damned if I was gonna wade through a gunfight to drag his gonk ass out of there."
Fred and Mor kept up a litany of insults aimed my way during our entire walk back towards Lizzie's and it showed no signs of stopping as we took up our well-worn spots on the couch.
"He's got a gun now but he's also a gonk who doesn't understand how stupid it was to run into a firefight without armor or weapons."
"Could have bought a gun with a few extra days of scrounging. And what the hell is he gonna do with it anyway?"
"Probably rob a store. That sounds like something a gonk would do."
I didn't bother arguing with them. It had been stupid to rush into the middle of a gunfight to loot a body, but it had also been worth the risk. At least, it was in my mind. One of the first things I had done in the days after meeting Fred and Mor was check the price of guns in Night City. I didn't want to get flat footed again. I needed some way to protect myself. I had to give up on the idea of walking around armed once I learned that even the cheapest gun was way out of my price range.
The DR-5 Nova, that stupid looking revolver that has the cylinder under the gun barrel, was around 300 eddies. A Unity, like the one I was cradling in my hands, ran close to 500. Hell, even the Slaught-o-Matic guns, cheap plastic one-use pistols dispensed from vending machines, cost 50 eddies. That was enough money to pay for food for a couple days. It was enough to act as an emergency stash of cash. It was enough to get medicine to treat infections.
I kept one ear on Fred and Mor’s insults while I cradled the Unity in my arms, trying to get a better feel for the gun so I didn’t look like a complete moron. I hated how characters in movies would get their hands on a gun for the first time and say something idiotic like ‘it’s heavier than I expected.’ I knew enough from video games and Hollywood to have a basic understanding of how to handle a gun. There was a tiny notch like thing on the barrel that I was guessing was the safety. A button on the side of the grip released the magazine. I counted out seven bullets in the magazine, the rest having been shot off by the Tyger Claw in the fight.
A cheer rose from the people hanging around the alcove and I raised my head to watch a guy being unceremoniously dragged out of the club and tossed into the dumpsters by Rita, the Mox bouncer I still hadn’t worked up the courage to speak to. I noticed Deng standing by one of the alcove walls, and he pointed to a few people hanging around to go and roll the guy. After he made sure they were dealing with the drunken dude he pushed himself off the wall and came over to Fred, Mor and myself, tossing a quick look at the Unity in my hand.
“First gun?”
“Yea,” I said. And because Deng still intimidated the hell out of me, and I didn’t know what else to say and wanted to fill the silence he left sitting there, I added “it’s heavier than I expected.” Dammit. I’m such an idiot.
He chuckled good-naturedly. Probably heard that line from a bunch of idiots. “First thing you need to know is it’s not a toy. Always treat it like it’s loaded. I can show you a couple things if you want. We can go up to the range and shoot off a few rounds just to make sure you don’t do anything stupid like accidentally blow off your own foot.”
Fred and Mor sent glares my way before shouting something along the lines of “he already did something stupid by running out to get the thing in the first place.”
But I noticed that the heat of their insults had started to dissipate. As much as they might yell at me for running out in the middle of a firefight to look a gun, they both knew that having one meant I was much safer on the streets of Night City. The homeless were always targets for gangs and badges. Having a gun wouldn’t instantly make me less of a target or suddenly propel me into the ranks of Night City legend. But it might make people think twice before targeting me, and it could diffuse tense situations and stop me from getting jumped.
The guy kicked out of Lizzie’s was dragged off to the side, his head lolling around as he fought to stay conscious. Shouts of elation rose from the guys who rolled him, and it sounded like our little club would soon be restocked with alcohol, courtesy of a creep who couldn’t keep his hands to himself. Tomas came over to us and was showing off some of the BDs he managed to grab from the guy. They’d easily sell for a bunch of eddies up at the Roundabout. Mor narrowed his eyes at the BDs and reached out to grab a few of them.
“These aren’t Mox markings. Who the hell goes to a BD bar with BDs already in their pockets?” Mor rifled through the BDs, giving each a cursory glance, before he came across one that was out of its plastic packaging and sporting a handwritten title. He handed it back to Tomas and told him “Give that to Rita and tell her it was on the guy she threw out.”
I raised an eyebrow in his direction.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
“Pretty sure that BD is spiked. Choom was probably looking for a girl, then he’d tell her he had some preem shit he got from the Mox, and he’d slip her the BD in one of those booths they got in there. If she watches it, it’d daze her and put her out of action for a while.”
Deng narrowed his eyes and nudged Mor to ask, “want me to stay around for a bit?”
“Nah. Rita’ll handle it. Hell, they might even slip us a bottle of something for being such good and upstanding citizens.”
Deng nodded and stood up from the couch, motioning me up. “Then I’m taking the kid up to the range. Maybe I’ll be able to knock some sense into him before we get up there.”
We ended up at the bottom floor of the Kabuki Roundabout at a Gun-o-rama franchise store called Straight Shooters. When we entered, I noticed the shop owner standing behind the bullet proof glass look up and greet Deng with a wide smile.
“Hey Alejandro. This is Noah. Just got his first gun and I’m teaching him how to shoot.”
“Ah, a first timer. Don’t get many of those.” He looked at the Unity I had stuffed into the waistband of my pants and pulled a box from behind the counter and pushed it through the slot in front of him. “A gift. Learn well and when you’re ready to upgrade your iron remember me and I’ll help you out. I’ve got everything.”
I picked up the box, which was just some cheap 9mm ammo, and followed Deng down into the basement of the shop. I heard the gun range before I saw it. The pop pop pop of gunshots was noticeable even though we were separated from the range by several walls. There were only a few shooters this late at night. I guess it was understandable. It was late and close to the weekend. Most people probably didn’t practice their shooting as a hobby and would instead be out partying.
Three Tyger Claws were clumped together, firing off rounds from their pistols. As I watched them, I was filled with the irrational fear that they’d all know how I got my gun. I resisted the urge to pull out the Unity from my waist band and scour it for any engravings or a name etched on the side or any other discernible markings. I’d already looked it over well enough to know there was nothing that could differentiate it from any other Unity, but I was still nervous.
Deng and I set up on the far left of the range and he walked me through how to hold and fire my new weapon. He gave a few safety rules and dolled out a couple tips that worked best for him when he was shooting. I loaded up the magazine, slotted it in, and took aim. Just like Hollywood showed me. Gun out, aim at the target, squeeze the trigger.
The gun barked in my hands as I sent a round down range. I could feel the recoil travel through my arms, and I was wholly unprepared for it. I almost dropped the pistol in shock but had enough sense to keep ahold of it as I tried to understand what just happened.
What the hell was that? The fact that I was holding a deadly weapon that could easily kill me if I misused it was quickly driven home with my first shot. Fear tore its way up in my spine and my heart jumped into my throat as I thought of how easily I could have accidentally shot myself or someone I cared about. An image of me cradling the gun while I was sitting in the alcove by Lizzie’s flashed through my mind. What kind of moron would do something like that? Who treats a deadly weapon with such careless disregard? I calmed my breathing and sent a couple more rounds down range, each shot surprising and desensitizing me little by little. I could sense Deng watching as I got used to firing the gun.
Soon enough the magazine was spent, and I clicked the button on the side to release it and then set down the Unity. Deng helped me reload and gave me a few more tips. He wanted me to shoot the rest of the free ammo that Alejandro had gifted me. He said it would give me a better feel for the gun and make me less skittish. So I reloaded and got to work.
After finishing off the box, Deng surprised me by pulling out his own gun which I noticed he carried in a concealed holster in the small of his back. It was one of those fancy Omaha pistols I remembered from the game. He squeezed off a few rounds before giving me a go, saying I needed experience with different types of firearms.
By the time we worked through the ammunition and left the range I was no longer caught flat footed when I shot my Unity. It was still an awesome power in my hand, and I meant that in the way the word was originally meant to be used. Every time I fired it, I became more and more aware of just how dangerous a gun was; that it could easily snuff out a life.
Deng led me back upstairs and we were once again in front of Alejandro. I painfully spent 20 eddies from my dwindling funds to buy another box of ammunition and a spare magazine. Both went into my pockets while the gun sat snug in my waist band. I didn’t have enough money to splurge on a holster and Deng berated me about buying one. He said it was unsafe and foolish to keep a gun tucked in my waist band. There was a chance that it would fall out when I needed it the most. While I understood his concerns, I just couldn’t justify the purchase.
On our way back to Lizzie’s we took a wide circuitous route and Deng rattled off a few more rules about gun safety. Don’t point it at anything you don’t want to kill. It’s a tool, not a toy. Don’t go waving it around. Having a gun doesn’t make you invincible, don’t act like it does. I listened, not only because Deng was intimidating as hell, but also because he was one of the few people I could trust to educate me fully on guns and, after the range, I had developed a new respect for the Unity at my waist.
We cut through an alley on our way to Lizzie’s and I soon saw the neon blue sign of the bar and could hear boisterous calls coming from the alcove despite the fact we were still an entire block away. They must have already sent someone to the Roundabout to fence the BDs and got a good price for them. Walking through the alley I looked around and noticed it opened to a half-court with a bunch of people shooting hoops. A few people playing on the court were unknown to me as I hadn’t seen them around the neighborhood before.
Fred and Mor had drilled it into me to always pay attention to everyone on the streets. You never knew when a new gang would pop up and you’d have to learn the rules on how to deal with them. Did the new gang target the homeless? Was there any potential of a gang war hitting your block? It was always better to know everything about the people around you then be caught flat footed when the shooting started.
The court was occupied by a new crew who stood around, watching the game. As Deng and I kept heading towards Lizzie’s I took note of the tell-tale signs of drug deals going on. Two dealers were around the outside of the court, talking with customers, doling out their products. A third was posted up at the top of the stairs behind the court, his eyes sweeping over the entire area.
I knew their lookout didn’t pose much of a threat to us. Everyone in the neighborhood knew and respected Deng. Not even freelance drug dealers were stupid enough to try and mess with a guy who carried himself the way Deng did. And I was kind of like those tiny birds that pick meat out of the teeth of crocodiles. I was safe by association. As much as it hurt to admit that to myself.
We weren’t accosted by the new crew as we picked our way past, but I kept my eyes open anyway and a plan began forming in my mind. I needed money. If I made enough cash, I could start taking better care of Fred and Mor. I could have bought a holster for my new Unity. I could have done so many things.
And who always carries eddies on them? What business is seemingly only done with paper money rather than the cred transfers that most businesses prefer? I made a special note of the dealers as Deng and I kept walking. I’d be back there soon.
By the time we got back to Lizzie’s Fred and Mor had both finally calmed down and no longer showed any interest in berating me, the Mox had sent out a bottle of something blue that was being passed around, I had gotten used to shooting a gun and was no longer such an easy target, and I had a plan on how to make enough money to change my life.
Things were finally starting to look up.