The technology of the future was amazing, sometimes.
For all the dreary, trash filled alleys and arcologies, abandoned development projects, gang violence and corpo wars. Despite the awful decisions that lead to the natural resources of Earth becoming so fucked up and degraded that clean water was considered a treat that only the rich can really indulge in. No matter how hopeless the future seemed for the human race…
I had to give it to our corporate overlords, the circus part of their bread and circuses rocked.
Well, probably. From what I knew of Braindance technology, they were essentially recorded experiences. Thoughts, sensations, emotions could all be put on record and then played back like a movie, giving anyone the ability to feel like anyone else, anytime, and even anywhere, if one wore a Braindance wreath. It was just another form of entertainment, as far as the future was concerned.
Some made movies with this technology that one could experience as the lead. Some created therapy sessions. I knew that in rare cases, captured criminals and cyberpsychoes would be put through BDs both torturous and therapeutic, meant to turn them into functional members of society. Or useful tools in other cases.
Others simply recorded their lives. There was a growing problem in Night City I was only tangentially aware of, where the poor and the deprived would become addicted to living the lives of the rich and famous, desperate to escape their own miserable reality. As they retreated more and more into fantasy, they'd even start believing they were the people that they had walked in the shoes of, and eventually conclude that the people that were living in luxury villas and attending galas in their bodies were imposters that had stolen their lives.
The result was generally attempted murder.
I could have brought a wreath and a station a long while ago. I didn't dare to do it, though. I knew the kind of person I had been before, the kind that was inclined to excess. Especially when excess meant staying inside and doing nothing. There was a non-zero possibility that if I ever got into BDs, I'd either become addicted like those others, or something worse, lost in the throes of sensation and flow of memories.
All the safety nets in the world didn't matter if it was me deciding to dive into my own head, never to come back out again.
And of course, where there was media there was the forbidden. XBDs, slang for illegal braindances, appeared pretty much as soon as regular BDs did. Some were snuff films. Some featured violent crimes. Some involved extreme fetishes. Some involved all three at once. They rarely had the processing and editing that made the regular BDs easy to stomach, resulting in nausea, seizures and if the rumors were real, death.
My mind outright refused to consider the thought of what would happen if I went insane from messing around with those.
Recording the experiences that went into XBDs was relatively simple. Chip in a Braindance Recorder, grab a gun and hold up a store, or do whatever other fucked up thing you planned to record. Whether you succeeded or died in the attempt, the experience could be pulled from your cyberware. Producing these illegal BDs, on the other hand, required editing. It required equipment. It required armed guards to keep that equipment safe, along with the editor.
"Hey, you see that BD of the borg?" One of the guard's synthetic voices ground out.
"There's more borgs than goddamn cats in Night City, man. You gotta specify." The other one muttered, his glitchy voice making him a little hard to understand.
"You know the one I'm talking about, jackass. The Militech borg! The one with the Sandevistan! Fuckin' JK edited it and it's selling like glitter! Everybody's talking about it. What the fuck else would I be talking about?"
"Man, I got my own bullshit to worry about. You think I keep up-to-date with every fad?" The second guard said in annoyance.
The first guard completely ignored his friend's complaining. "That Sandevistan. It was like having a seat on a god's chariot. I was slaughtering the NCPD like fucking pigs, Jared! It was great! I had Mantis Blades in my knees!"
"Didn't Maxtac get that guy, though?"
The first guard sounded like he was grinning. "Yeah, I felt that goddamn railgun round splitting my skull like it was glass. Shit was preem."
"...I dunno why the fuck you watch that shit, man." The second guard sighed.
Then, there was silence.
I quietly waited for the conversation to continue, but when it didn't I moved in, seizing ahold of the first guard's mouth and slamming a knife directly into his throat. In the moment that followed, as the second guard's head turned at the tiny amount of sound that I had made, the same knife sprouted out of his throat as I flung it across the short distance between us.
[+400 EXP]
[+400 EXP]
[Throw: 11>12]
I watched the two bodies carefully, waiting for movement, before I walked past them into the editing studio. In the center of the room, dead to the world, was a man who had none of the red optics or cranial plating that his Maelstrom guards had. Databanks blinked with light as I crept closer, watching carefully to make sure that he hadn't noticed anything. [Observe].
Cameron
Lvl 4
Your target. Currently has a stiffy from what he's working on. You don't want to know why.
Gross. I quietly set my agent on a table, set it to record, and walked over to the insensate man in the chair with a headset over his face. I kept my steps quiet, my [Covert Talent] a barely noticeable influence that adjusted my posture in slight, minute amounts.
[Stealth: 13>14]
The resulting report of my new gun was nothing even remotely similar to stealthy, but that didn't matter, not when everyone else here was dead. I unloaded every bullet in the cylinder, doing my best to ensure his quick and simple demise. The first destroyed his skull and the pink matter within. The rest were just for surety.
[+50 EXP]
I breathed out a sigh, before turning my back on the corpse of the editor. I flashed the camera a thumbs up. Before walking over to my agent and ending the recording.
In the end, I'd decided not to take Rebecca with me on my second job. Part of the reason was that Regina had specifically asked for it to be done quietly. Something that I was pretty sure Rebecca wasn't good at. The other part was that I just didn't want to show off the part of me that was a murderer for money. A silly notion, considering the fact that we both had the exact same job, but what was a man if not a pile of contradictions?
Not that I felt particularly in the wrong for taking this guy out. The man that I'd killed wasn't just an editor, if Regina's intel was correct, but also a producer and actor in the XBDs. A man with a passion for his craft that I could admire if it weren't for his craft being snuff pornography.
Then again, I'd just produced a little snuff footage of my own, so maybe I shouldn't be so quick to judge.
I flicked the footage over to Regina. A call quickly came, which I answered. "Not bad, Razzle. Not bad at all." She sounded somewhat impressed.
"I even kept it quiet like you wanted." I said, glancing around at the bodies. It had been almost too easy. There was still a thrill to be had in stealthing around and taking out the isolated, but I couldn't help but vastly prefer firefights.
"Not all quiet." Regina stated. I blinked in surprise at my agent. How the hell had she… Screw it, it didn't matter. Let this be a lesson to me. Fixers had some scary reach, especially when it came to knowing stuff they shouldn't.
"...Goddamn, that's spooky." I muttered. "Yeah, I wanted to try out that gun that you got me. It's pretty good." I'd sold her a whole bunch of extra copies of guns that I hadn't had a use for. They seemed barely worth anything, but apparently gun parts and scrap still had value. Then, I'd asked for an Overture right afterwards. I'd brought a sports bag filled with spare firearms and loaded it all into a drop point that was about a five minute walk from my apartment in Megabuilding H11. About twenty minutes later, I'd walked right back to that same drop point and picked up a shiny new gun.
God bless America.
"Mm-hm." Her headshot nodded. "Glad you're happy with it. But maybe you should be a little bit more discerning in its use." I winced. "Gig closed. There's something else, though."
"What?" I asked, tilting my head. "Did the video not get through?"
Her virtual headshot shook her head. "No, I've got it fine on my end. Client will be happy with that. The issue is Maelstrom. They're starting to draw a bead on you. Your activities in Northside are starting to turn heads."
"Couldn't you have told me this before I hit a Maelstrom protected XBD studio?" I asked, a little aggrieved.
"Word only came down the grapevine a few moments ago. And this job shouldn't be traced back to a blonde man with a black coat, unless you left any witnesses." Regina rebuked. "If you want my advice? Stay out of Northside, stay away from Maelstrom and pick the places where you stay carefully for the next few weeks or so. Try the south end of Watson. Or Japantown."
I sighed. "Thanks for the heads up." The call shut off with a click. "Goddamnit." I muttered as I brought the agent from my ear and returned it to my pocket. I could take out small groups of Maelstrom relatively easily, whether it was guns blazing or in secret, but if they were hunting for me, I doubted they'd be so kind as to come in squads of three to six.
I held no illusions about my capabilities. My health was high, but if I was the subject of an outright manhunt? I'd go down if I stood my ground and fought. Sure, I'd come right back, but I'd have liked to keep that little trick a secret for as long as I possibly could.
I guess I was going to enjoy the Solo experience of not knowing where I was going to sleep for the next few weeks. Really experience what being the best felt like. Minus all the parts of being the best.
Go me.
[Quest Success!]
[Gained 1930ED]
[Level Up! You are now Level 13]
[You gained 5 stat points]
It wasn't all bad, though. Slowly but surely, I was improving in ability. Getting closer and closer to breaking the boundaries set by humanity. Not cyber-enhanced humanity, though. That was a whole other kettle of fish. I wasn't sure how far I'd gotten, but I'd have to see if I could check at a gym or something at some point. [Status].
Ron "Razzle" Robinson
Level 13
Cred 3
Title: Bottom Feeder
XP: 100/6500
HP: 720
MP: 550
STR: 39
VIT: 47
DEX: 45
INT: 43
TECH: 22
CHA: 12
Unspent Points: 65
I smiled a bit, looking at my improved scores and the large pool of unspent stat points that I'd accrued. Soon. Soon I'd be ready to spend them. I figured that it was going to have to all go into one stat, though I wasn't completely sure which.
Dexterity was the obvious winner, being the thing that governed my reaction speeds, aim, and pretty much all aspects of gunplay, but there were others that had their uses. Strength governed my ability to lift massive firearms and use them. The incident with Rebecca's Carnage flashed in my mind. I'd have liked to use similar guns without issue. Higher Vitality meant having a higher health pool, which was always good. Especially if I kept doing stupid shit.
Intelligence, charisma and tech were a little harder to justify, however. I sure didn't feel smarter after my intelligence rose, though maybe it was so gradual it was hard to tell. My mana pool and mana regeneration rising was more noticeable, however. Charisma was my lowest, but it probably was one of my most powerful tools. The ability to persuade people of things opened doors that being Cyber-Hercules just didn't, though I honestly didn't find it particularly appealing to pursue.
Tech was the weirdest of them all. It hadn't risen ever since my arrival two and a half weeks ago. I barely even knew what it did. Maybe it decided my netrunning abilities or something? Problem was, I didn't want a cyberdeck so that I could fry people's brains, though that did sound cool. Above all else, I wanted a Sandevistan. One like David's, if I could manage it.
The first guard was on to something. Problem was, I didn't want to fry my brain playing around with that sort of thing, either.
Perhaps Tech influenced my capabilities with cyberware. I tossed the idea through my mind a little, pondering it. It would explain why it hadn't hadn't risen much throughout my time here, I hadn't used my cybereye or cyberaudio suite for much at all.
[Intelligence: 43>44]
…There were probably better ways to spend my time playing guessing games with my superpowers, however. And though I didn't feel safe turning to my apartment, that was fine. I had plenty of cash on me, and plenty of ammo. One perk of having an extradimensional storage space was that I could quickly go on the lam whenever I needed, so long as I kept everything important in it, which I did.
I also had a neat idea of how to spend the rest of my day. With this latest infusion of cash and the promise of more down the line, I had plenty of buffer to spend on all kinds of things. Like heavier iron. Or chrome. Mentally, I started charting a course through Watson. I wasn't sure of the exact location of what I was looking for, but I was pretty sure I would find it using the landmarks from the game as a guide.
"Thhpt." I frowned as my attempt at whistling utterly failed. Right. New body. New lips. New teeth. I tried again. And I kept trying as I started my trek across Night City.
I'd get it right at some point. Just needed to practice it again, that was all.
----------------------------------------
Night City was a wonderful study in all sorts of contrasts. Opulence and deprivation. Corporate shape and human color. Dangerous, seedy underbellies and glamourous party districts. Sure, I didn't like looking at Northside or staying there, but it was part of the whole course, the spectrum of Cyberpunk. And it definitely helped me appreciate Little China for what it was. A shard of what I loved about Cyberpunk as a whole.
The place was much like Kabuki, but where Kabuki was more dingy, filled with low-rise apartment buildings and covered with worn graffiti and garbage, Little China was dominated by high-rise buildings which ran the gamut of worn down to downright sparkling. Even the graffiti here seemed more vibrant. Massive corporate structures and scrolling holographic adverts intruded on my view of the clear, blue sky, and logos were present no matter where you looked.
There was also an ongoing firefight between the NCPD and Tyger Claws under an overpass that I had seen going down from a distance, but I stayed well away from it despite the opportunity for EXP. Wouldn't want the boys in blue getting jumpy when a relative unknown joined in without explanation, right?
I walked past the firefight, around another separate cordoned-off crime scene and spotted a somewhat familiar building that made me pretty sure I was close to the right place. Then, I heard another firefight going down some distance. I blinked in shock at its general direction, looking back at the ongoing fight behind me before shaking my head with an exasperated smile.
Two firefights between gangsters and the cops within a minute's walk of each other. Only in Night City.
Still, I wove my way between the two distinct unfolding scenes of violence and entered into an alley, where glittering sakura leaves fell from a 3D display of a sakura tree, while shimmering holographic red lanterns hovered overhead. I tilted my head as the sounds of ranting and raving entered my ears, and I grinned. Now, I knew for a fact that I'd come to the right place.
"-They may seem filled with vitality to you, flush with life… but it is STOLEN!" A man dressed in what looked like a cut-up garbage bag, wearing sunglasses and a beanie shouted out. "With the blood coerced from their human servants, the vampiric elite of the Arasaka clan can maintain their wretched unlife indefinitely! Have you seen even one of them age a single day? Have you seen their eyes, cold and lifeless?!"
Garry the Prophet
Lvl 3
Every crackpot conspiracy stereotype rolled into one. A walking discrediting campaign against corporate interests? Prophet of humanity's end? You decide.
The living landmark. And to the right of him, I saw what I was looking for. Misty's Esoterica. Still, I stopped in place for a short while to listen to Garry's ranting.
"But HOW, I hear you ask! How can they have become these deathless abominations? How can they violate the natural order of planet Earth?!" The man cried out. He threw his arms wide, doing his best to draw the attention of others. "With the help of the techno-necromancers from Alpha-Centauri, of course!"
Briefly, I considered commenting, but before I could, I heard an exclamation from the side. "Oh. My. Gawd!" I blinked, turning to the side to see two women in street fashion approaching. "It's one of those conspiracy theorists! Like, the type you see on TV!" The one speaking turned to her friend. "You gotta take my photo with him before he gets dragged off for revealing government secrets!" She got in front of him, striking a pose as her friend pulled out her agent.
As his picture was taken, Garry waved his arms at them beseechingly. "Let your ears open to the truth! Let your eyes behold!"
"Oh, Jessica is gonna flip when she sees this. This is max nova! I just can't!" The woman taking the picture declared, the two huddled together to take a look at the picture, before they walked off, chattering all the way.
"You know," I commented, as I saw the two walking off. "I would comment on the sheer vapidity of what I have just seen, but words have substance."
"Their minds may be closed to the truth, but you..." The man turned to me. "You have opened your inner eye. You have allowed yourself to see."
"Dunno about 'allowing myself to see'. More like getting run over by a truck-kun with truth bumpers." I glanced at him as I put my fists on my hips. Getting dragged off by a higher power had a tendency to make space in your world view, but aliens from Alpha-Centauri seemed unlikely. Then again, I hadn't exactly taken a look at Alpha-Centauri recently…
Dropping that train of thought, I shrugged. "Besides, everyone knows that Vampires come from the moon."
The man tilted his head, "What do you mean, stranger?"
"That the moon is actually an alien supercomputer that's been observing us since the dawn of mankind, and has been running simulations of conflict between our greatest champions in order to determine the most worthy wielder of its vast processing power." I folded my arms. "And it's also directly responsible for, and is the origin of vampires. And it's haunted. And horny." I raised a finger. "You may think this is all mutually exclusive. But it isn't. Don't ask me how. Blame Nasu."
He stared at me. "Your tone is flippant, but there is sincerity in your eyes, and surety. There is not an iota of doubt within you." He stepped back. "If the Techno-necromancers have established a beachhead so close to Earth itself so quickly… It is truly a dark time that encroaches on mankind." He held a hand up. "I must meditate on this."
"Sure." I turned to leave, but before I could, the man held out his hands in a pleading way.
"Hold! Before you go, I must make a humble request. My quest has left me lacking, and I can only rely on the benediction of others. Can I please have an offering, so that I may continue my work?"
I considered my finances. "The most I can offer is three fiddy." I raised a finger. "And by that, I mean three eurodollar fifty, not three hundred and fifty eddies. I'm not made out of money."
"Even such a donation may buy me a week of time." The man stated.
Wait. 3.5 ED / 7 Days = 0.5 ED / Day. Half a eurodollar a day. The goddamn burritos I bought for my meals were twelve eurodollars. I stared incredulously at him. "The fuck kinda life hacks are you running?"
He seemed to take a moment to parse the meaning of my question, before his answer came. "The only sustenance I derive from is Kibble."
"...Ganbatte, Prophet-san." I offered, passing him a few coins. Kibble was exactly what it sounded like. Crunchy, dry food stock that was the cheapest of all sustenance, short of eating dirt. Produced from algae, plankton, and soy, it had everything the body needed, and only the most poverty stricken would even go near the stuff. I tried kibble once.
Never again.
I turned around, awkwardly ignoring Garry's thanks as I walked into the store next to his little slice of the street. As I did so, I couldn't help but be reminded of a certain phenomena that afflicted older generations more than younger. Technoshock, it was called. The feeling when technological progress outstripped the ability of people to fit it into their lives, or even comprehend it.
The rate of progress was insane, and technology was all encompassing in the dark future. And people sometimes ended up handling it poorly, their place in the world suddenly uprooted by change. Couldn't relate. There were plenty of ways it manifested. Sitting around passively and waiting for the leader, whoever they were, to tell you what to do. Deciding that technology was sin and becoming a Luddite. Pinning the blame of all of life's problems on some conspiracy, like Garry did.
Then there were those who decided to be the bleeding edge, stitching the future into themselves until they were another tooth on the cutting edge of new.
It was those who were described as "Cyberpunks", "Edgerunners", and when it went wrong, "Cyberpsychoes".
The sound of chimes echoed as I stepped into Misty's Esoterica. The shop was dark, lit only somewhat by a mix of electric lights, paper lanterns, candles and appliances. I could hear the ambient sound of soft woodwind music and chimes blending together with Garry's ranting outside as I walked past a shelf filled with statues ranging from metal guardian lions to porcelain lucky cats, lanterns and incense.
I greeted the frizzy-haired, bored-looking blonde woman with a wave. "Hello. I heard there was a ripperdoc working nearby, and I was hoping to see their stock."
"You'd be looking for Vic." Misty replied. "He's busy right now, though."
I paused, caught a bit flat-footed. "Ah." I supplied. I glanced around, "Is there a spot I can sit down, or something?"
She gestured to a few flat chairs off to the side. "Knock yourself out."
"Don't mind if I do, then." I took a short walk and sat down, looking around the shop. I could hear the hustle and bustle of the outdoors, but… it was cozy here. Calm. Quiet. I liked it.
It gave me time and space to think. There was stuff I had to- wanted to accomplish. There was nothing vital or necessary about it, but it would be a nice bonus.
Like taking out the Cyberpsycho that would kill Pilar, which I was pretty sure was going to happen sooner or later. Why? Because Pilar was Rebecca's brother. And his death would make her unhappy, and David too. Which was bad. So I'd stop it. Amazing complex line of thinking, I know.
Sure, I wasn't exactly going to lay down anything for the two of them that I couldn't take back, but I had lifelines out the wazoo. Otherwise, I wouldn't have even considered going near that walking piece of artillery.
All that meant was hunting down a cyberpsycho that I could only mostly remember the appearance of, who could be anywhere in Northside, or anyplace else in Night City for that matter, and was armed to the teeth with cyberweapons.
Simple in concept. In execution? Probably inordinately tougher.
Especially considering the fact that Maelstrom was now looking for me. I rapped my fingers on the chair, considering the situation. I had some stuff going for me. I had a strange sixth sense that seemed to point me towards violence and danger. I had the ability to look at a person and pick up information about them with [Observe]. I might not have an outright superhuman body, but I was somewhere close to the limits of a human, and my stamina regenerated far more quickly than it ought to. And that wasn't even taking into account the boost I would get when I assigned all of my unspent stat points.
And if it came down to it, if that all wasn't enough… I still had a good amount of company credits burning a hole in my pocket. Close to four hundred.
A single T8 purchase would cost me two hundred points. And fact of the matter was, even in Night City, or the world of Cyberpunk at large, there were very, very few problems that a specially handpicked T8 couldn't solve. It felt like I was carrying a protean silver bullet that I had yet to carve a name on. A pocket ace with the power of a god. I could even afford a separate T7 purchase after that, if whatever I pulled didn't pretty much solve all my problems for me.
The issue was… that meant that I was now responsible for that T8. And as neat a solution as it would be for any problem, everything would revolve around it from that point on. I didn't like the idea of committing myself to caring for or relying on some ineffable godlike force, and honestly, I just didn't enjoy how… cheap it felt.
Sure, if nukes flew and rods from god were being dropped then all bets were off, but till then I was happy being the main character of my own story, and not the tag-along for someone else's.
And besides, I had plenty on my plate as it was. Raising my own reputation as a mercenary so that I was given access to higher and higher paying jobs, juggling my… friends? Acquaintances? Chooms? My somethings. Improving my own capabilities, so that I could actually accomplish those higher paying jobs without showing off my true capabilities.
The issue was that it was all linked. Cyberware, cyberpsychosis and chooms were all part of the same tightrope act that my mind was balancing. One piece of cyberware was rarely a cause for concern, but I already had more than one piece, and I wanted more than just a Sandevistan. Four pieces would be needed to do the first part of my quest, and eight would be needed for the second.
Cyberpsychosis was my primary concern. My understanding of it was based on what I knew of it after reading up on it "in-universe" and from what I remembered of the word of the creator of the original TTRPG. I didn't necessarily believe what they said, but I'd go by it while I tried to verify. The idea was that cyberpsychosis was when one failed to identify with others, seeing other people as inferior, not worth talking to. And it was guarded against by a stat representing one's resistance to it, that stat being their humanity.
Humanity included their ability to bounce back from stress, to relate to others, and to maintain a balanced worldview, and the body's inborn tolerance for cybernetics. Unfortunately, my system didn't have that stat, so I couldn't exactly just jack up the size of my heart and go play with neon fire. There was a skill I had called [Gamer's Mind] that supposedly gave me immunity to mental disorders, but I wasn't so sure it worked as advertised, after all, it supposedly gave me the ability to think calmly and logically through any situation, but I sure as hell didn't feel calm or logical.
Setting aside the system in my mind. I recalled three examples of people who gave Cyberpsychosis the finger, slotting in chrome like it was going out of fashion. Names that I counted in my fingers as I went through them in my mind. David Martinez, Adam Smasher, and V.
David was the sample I could most easily emulate. He had a buffer. A career path. Loved ones. Family. He eventually lost it all, and chipped in more than he could handle out of ego, but he was an example of how far simple compassion and care could carry me.
Come to think of it, maybe I shouldn't be thinking of these sorts of things as avenues for obtaining cyberware, but rather signs of an overall healthy mind and social life instead. I'd have to keep that in mind.
Anyways, the issue was, I didn't have much buffer. My career path was great, but it also involved killing people and balancing my morals carefully. My loved ones were gone. My family was gone. The people I was closest to, I hesitated to even call friends in the depths of my skull. And I had no idea where I was going to sleep tonight, so making use of his example was going to be tough for now.
The other two examples were a little tougher to learn from, for different reasons. Adam Smasher was cognizant. He had control over himself. He didn't rip and tear his way through the streets of Night City on a whim. But he was still a psychotic nutcase that would kill thousands on Arasaka's orders. I didn't want to be like him, because being like him seemed like it would suck. That, and it required being so lacking in humanity from the get go that installing cyberware took nothing away, so it wasn't an option for me.
V, on the other hand, had experimental cybertechnology that was helping keep him stable. A second, implanted personality that helped "share the load" of chipping in chrome. That same experimental cybertechnology was also slowly killing him. So on one hand, fuck that. On the other hand, the theory was sound. It simply meant sharing my brainspace with someone else. So fuck that.
…Well I said "him", but I didn't know their sex for sure. V could definitely be a woman for all I knew.
I stared at my raised three fingers. A list of examples I couldn't replicate. In conclusion? I should probably not be chipping in anything big anytime soon. Not that I could afford anything big, anyways.
Which meant that I was going to be hunting down a Cyberpsycho with only the few cybernetic enhancements that I walked away with today. Full circle. Joy. I let out an aggrieved sigh, as I laid my head back. I already knew that tonight was going to be a sleepless one, scribbling notes and plans. I needed another agent to store them. One that I would hide in the inventory, for fear of anyone seeing my ravings. And maybe written in code, too.
"You sound like you're stressed." Misty's voice cut in through my thoughts, causing me to pause.
I took a calming breath. Yes, I was going in circles but that just meant I needed a plan of action. I'd make it later, when I was in private. "Just a little."
"...Would you like to get in touch with your spirituality?" She offered, raising an eyebrow. "I think Vic's still going to be a while."
I glanced over to the listing of prices and services. Chakra harmonization and crystal radiation. I was pretty sure she meant well, but I was pretty sure this was quackery, and if I thought that it was quackery, even a little, it probably wouldn't help. This didn't seem like the sort of thing I would benefit from unless I was receptive. "I'm not exactly flush with cash." I admitted, leaning back in the chair. "Unless you've got something cheap that isn't going to take an hour?"
"I can do palm readings." She offered.
"Didn't have a great experience with one in the early stages of my life." I declined. "...This might sound choosy, but you got anything else? Maybe some sage advice on making friends and not going nuts?"
Her hair swayed as she tilted her head, pondering my question. "I bought a tarot deck recently. We can try that, if you want."
I looked at her in mild surprise. "No shit? You do tarot?"
"I do indeed, 'do tarot'." She answered with a nod.
"Man, I always was a sucker for tarot." I smiled fondly in nostalgia. "Fucking love the major arcana." I wiggled my fingers a bit. "For the arcana is the means by which all is revealed." I grinned to myself. "And the abnormalities… and the stands. Man. The arcana rock."
"They also can be used in divination, you know." She said with an arched eyebrow.
"I know that, I even know a smattering of the meanings. Tower is disaster. Death is change. Fool is beginnings." I shrugged. "I'm simplifying, of course. They're more complicated than that." I paused. "But you knew that. Because you run a shop called Misty's Esoterica. I… I'm going to shut up now."
She gave me a quirk of her lips that could only charitably be called a smile. "Why don't you come over here, then?"
I shuffled over, ignoring the heat in my cheeks as I pulled a plastic stool over. I sat myself down, and watched intently as she pulled a deck of cards from under the table. She gave them a quick shuffle, before gingerly plucking a card from the top of the deck and setting it down.
"The Fool."
"A classic." I couldn't help but grin.
"For good reason." Misty returned a wane smile of her own. "The Fool symbolizes the start of a journey, or the announcement of something new. But it can also represent the inner child. The parts of you that are naive, curious…" She looked me in the eye. "And reckless. You may brim with enthusiasm, but you are not yet aware of your capabilities, or the challenges you may face."
"The Hermit." Misty declared, as the second card was revealed. "His lantern cuts through the darkness, and in solitude, he discovers the truth about himself. Or the world. It could be you." She glanced at me. "Or it could be someone else. Someone who shows you simple kindness."
"The Tower." She was quiet now, as if announcing an eulogy. "You, and everyone around you will experience a great shock. When the tower falls, nothing will be the same again." There was an intensity to her words as she pronounced them, and I felt myself held in sway as I stared at the table as the card slid into place. "Nothing at all."
I watched with bated breath as the final card was drawn. "The Sun Reversed." She stated. "You'd meet obstacles, but who doesn't?" She offered a small shrug. "Everyone experiences setbacks. So follow your good judgment, and stick to your chosen path. Though take care to not be too confident in yourself either. Be sure to ask yourself if what you set out to achieve is even possible."
The four cards were returned to the deck, and I let out a breath. "You know, I was going to quip about there being a lot of very general advice that could be put to good use regardless of their origin."
Misty shrugged. "I don't decide what the cards show you."
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
"Yeah, that was a hell of a lot more laser-focused than I was expecting." I glanced at the deck, seriously pondering the idea of picking up [Destiny Defense]. "Still had some good advice, though. I'll keep it in mind."
"That's all I can ask."
There was the sound of footsteps as a burly fellow with a red mohawk dressed in padded leather made his way into the shop from the back. There was a katana strapped to his side, that I couldn't help but eye enviously as he walked past the two of us, and out the store.
"...I should get a sword." I muttered to myself.
"Somehow, I doubt it." Misty stated. "Looks like Vic's done."
"So it would seem. Just one thing, though. How much do I owe you?" I asked, quirking an eyebrow.
"I don't charge for tarot readings." Was her reply.
"...I should come here more often." I muttered to myself as I walked around her and opened up the back door. I walked past a few poor children playing with cans as I made my way down some steps and opened a door, finding the man I was here to meet.
Viktor Vektor seemed like a normal man, wearing a pair of sunglasses with a stethoscope hanging on his neck, but there were subtle hints of cybernetic augmentation in him. His arm was dotted with needle marks, most likely from injections used to manage his body's rejection of cyberware.
…I should get sunglasses.
We looked at each other for a moment, before I broke the silence. "Hey. I'm Razzle. Looking for some chrome." I tilted my head to the side as I stifled another wince. That was more than obvious. That was two introductions I'd bombed today. Maybe I'd get a lucky third? I held my hand out anyways, taking care to shake with the hand that wasn't covered in a medtech glove. "And maybe some advice."
He took the hand and shook it. He had a firm handshake, but not crushing. "Viktor. Hop in the chair and I'll show you what I have while I run a scan. Then we'll see if we can find you some answers."
I did so, and took a glance at the panel. I pretty much knew what I'd wanted, so I made my picks without comment. For a brief moment, I found myself pulled in two directions, though. I didn't have the scratch for the best eyes he had, but I did have enough for either the Mk. 1 or the Mk. 2. I found myself considering it. I did have the budget. I could put it down on better eyes for the fight ahead.
But I didn't need those features. Only wanted them, and I did not want them badly enough to shrug off perfectly good advice. I picked the Mk. 1 with the feature I wanted.
"Kiroshi Optics Mk.1 with explosive analysis." Viktor read out loud.
"Figured it was going to be important for something coming up ahead." I admitted, staring straight ahead.
He gave me a cautious glance. "You sure that's something you want to get tangled up in?"
"Pretty sure. Not like I have the cash to pay someone else to handle it." Though I did have the company credit. Just not the willingness whatsoever to play second fiddle, or to take any responsibility for whoever or whatever I would be dragging into my own mess.
"There's got to be ways other than chroming up to deal with it yourself." Viktor stated.
There probably were, honestly. If the trust between me, Rebecca and David was strong enough, I could probably just warn them about the cyberpsycho that would kill Pilar, and they'd probably straight-up solve the issue for me. Problem was, that meant revealing what I knew. That meant questions that I wasn't prepared to answer. And that was even if they believed me in the first place. "Compared to other solutions, this seems like the one with the most short-term loss compared to long-term."
"Are you sure about that?" Viktor seemed skeptical, which I understood. Looking at his point of view, I must have seemed insane stepping into his clinic and asking for anti-explosive countermeasures, while all but admitting that I was going to go tango with danger.
Unfortunately, I was set on my course, and I genuinely wasn't seeing many better options. "Pretty sure. I heal a hell of a lot more easily than…" Friendships? "Bridges."
"Can't heal if you're dead." He commented, dryly.
"That won't be an issue." I stated. Because it wouldn't be. Not that he knew why, but it was the truth.
"Hm." Viktor seemed to give up on that, instead looking over the second thing I had asked for. "And the neural link?"
"Seemed important for my future in mercenary work. Leads into chipware sockets, which leads into memory chips and interface plugs. And the Sandy." I chuckled. "It all comes back to the Sandy."
"You're planning to chip in a Sandevistan?" He raised an eyebrow.
"Eventually. Not right now, but later. Way later. When I feel like I'm sane and not only tangentially connected to society." I said with a smile that barely was.
Viktor made a noise that sounded disapproving. Whether it was because of my life choices or wording was anyone's guess. "Well, at least you're not trying to force it now. You want me to match your eye color, or do you want to pick something yourself?"
"I'd like to take a look," I paused. "Please." I remembered to add in at the end. "And sorry if I sound like I'm tossing everything you say out the window, but I'm pretty sure that it's the least bad option in a shit hand."
Viktor just grunted as he worked for a moment, and I took that as a cue to look over the catalogue of eye designs I could have. There were eyes with every color of iris one could imagine, and more besides. I snorted without saying anything when I saw that one of the designs was a hypnotic spiral. Hilarious. I leafed through the options, seeing beastly eyes with slitted irises, mechanical eyes with painted shapes, eyes with hearts for pupils, skulls for pupils, utterly black eyes, and many more.
Eventually, I found one that spoke to me. A design for an eye with a red crosshairs design where the iris would be. It was clear that the entire design would only be visible if I opened my eyes wide, but that didn't matter. Knowing that it was a crosshair would be good enough.
Viktor brought out a pair of armrests from under the table, which had complicated mechanisms attached. "I'll be needing you to put your arms in for the procedure." He stated, seeming more comfortable talking about his profession than the possibility of my imminent death.
I pushed it in. "Like this?"
He shook his head. "Palms up." I adjusted my arms, and he gave me a nod. "Thanks."
"I'd be pretty crazy to ignore the guy who's about to yank an eye out of me." I said with a hint of humor.
"You'd be surprised at the types of people who come in." He joked right back, drawing out a large hypo and pressing it to my wrists. "Just some anesthetic before I start cutting."
"Probably for the best." I gave a grin as it fired twice.
[Buff Gained: Anesthetic - Minor VIT Stack]
He ignored the comment. "Feel anything?" He asked, as the mechanisms whirled to life, sparks appearing on my hands.
"Nothing, thank Christ. Would suck to come all this way to find out that I was going to have to do this raw."
"If it didn't work, I wouldn't be able to operate." Viktor rebuked.
"I like to think I have a high tolerance for pain." I'd trained for that, after all. And [Gamer's Body] had heightened my ability to ignore injury to a remarkable degree, though it wasn't like pain was pleasant to me.
He shook his head. "It's the principle of the thing."
I snorted as I studied the mechanisms going to work on my hands. "Well, guess I should be thankful. You'd have to be pretty fucked up to operate without anesthesia, huh?"
Viktor gave a non-committal hum.
----------------------------------------
David felt like his teeth were going to crack as he chomped down the metal bit, his eyes bulging in pain as he felt his inner chest being exposed to the cold air for the first time in his life. There were needles taped to his body, replenishing his bloodstream with vital oxygen as the man standing over him prepared to cut out his lungs to make space for their replacement.
"Alrighty, Davey-Boy." Doc said with a grin in his voice. "Try not to bite your tongue off, now. You might not die, drowning in ya own blood." He could hear the grin on his face widen. "But it'd be hard ta' get a good price for 'em if they're filled up with crud, ya know?"
----------------------------------------
Looking at my own body lying down from the outside was weird, but thankfully, it only lasted for a moment as I got to watch from two different angles as my new eye was slotted into its socket. HUD elements flickered for a moment as the new eye adjusted and the internal systems warmed up. "All good?" Viktor asked as I glanced left and right. "Any blurriness or glitches?"
"Nah." I muttered. It had gone perfectly. My new eye whizzed around as I tested its limits, looking to my left, then my right. Then forward.
[Observe > Analyze]
[New Inventory function unlocked: Cyberware Tab]
I blinked in surprise, before I smiled. "Better than fine, actually." I muttered.
The man cracked a smile of his own. "Good. Now just a reminder, the Kiroshi's got a few functions. Its scanner can pick up all sorts of things, whether it's something useful in a pile of junk or some ne'er-do-well's cyberware. Not to mention the external lens disruptor."
At my slightly baffled look, he explained further. "Your face will show up as a blur on any security cams, but your body will still be clear."
I smacked my forehead. How could I have forgotten that part? "Right. That. Got it."
"Now, let's make sure everything works as intended. Try scanning a few things. It might take a while to adjust, but-"
Viktor
Lvl 8
Str: 28
Vit: 24
Dex: 32
Int: 44
Tech: 43
Cha: 27
A former boxer, then ringside physician, and now ripperdoc. Talented, patient, and professional. A merc's best friend is their doc, so remember to treat this one right.
Notable Abilities: N/A
"-it'll sync up with your thought processes and read your intentions in a while." I glanced him up and down, before glancing at his computer.
Terminal
A simple, no frills, no nonsense device to browse the Net, receive messages and store data. Password protected, but not enough to stop any serious netrunner.
More information than before. This would be handy in the search.
"Like I said, it might take a while." Viktor offered, after a long moment of silence. "It'll misread your thoughts a few times, but that should smooth out eventually."
"It works fine." I stated, my eyes refocusing on him. One chosen, one gifted. "The scanner, I mean."
He paused. "Well, lucky you." He passed me an inhaler. "They should keep you from suffering any other issues. One puff now and another in an hour."
[Buff Gained: Immunosuppressants - Minor TECH Stack]
I did as he instructed, while taking a mental note. Maybe I should look into getting some more medicines from ripperdocs, and maybe see what else is available. I stowed the inhaler in my pocket, "Thanks, doc."
"No problem." He settled back. "Now, you said you had questions?"
"Yeah." I leaned back in the chair. "So, you've probably worked with a whole bunch of mercs, right? Saw one walk out earlier."
"I work with all kinds of people." He said with a shrug. "Mercs included."
"You got any idea of what the timeframe is like for advancement? The way things currently stand, I'm going to be saving up for a long while for anything good, and… I have a few buds who're a little further up the chain than I am. I'm hoping to surprise them at the Afterlife if I can manage it." I knew for a fact that'd be out of my reach for now, but I was an impatient guy at heart.
The Afterlife was a nerve center of Night City, the place where the most effective mercs and the most wealthy clients mingled. It was where some of the biggest jobs were found and the most profitable deals were made. That meant that a no-name merc like me wasn't getting past the doors. I figured that maybe Viktor would know what it would take before it'd be open to me.
"The Afterlife? You're certainly aiming high for a rookie." He seemed chuffed, leaning back slightly. "What makes you think you've got what it takes in the first place?"
"One of my buds can't use a gun, has about as much experience as I do and still managed to get in. I'm pretty sure I can find my way in at some point." I said with a raised eyebrow. David had bragged about it a bit when we'd been shooting the shit, and while the ribbing was funny, I had a beautiful punchline in mind for when I'd surprise them there.
Viktor rubbed his chin in thought. "Your bud been doing any big jobs lately? Run with a crew that's more experienced than him?"
I thought back to what we'd talked about with regard to jobs. The one with the Arasaka bodyguard would count, right? "Yes and yes."
Viktor shrugged. "Well, there you go. They were a part of something impressive, and they had the support of a few others who had the cred to walk in." He gave me a warning look that I could feel behind his sunglasses. "I don't recommend it."
He leaned forwards. "I'll be frank, you don't seem like the sort that'll fit in there, and if you don't have a chaperone, it's entirely possible that you'll walk in, make an ass of yourself and make enemies you can't afford." Then, he leaned back and folded his arms, putting one leg over the other, "Not to mention that nobody gets in without Rogue's say so."
"And how would I get her say so?" I asked eagerly.
"Months of steady, consistent work. Are you doing gigs for any fixers?" At my nod, he continued. "Keep that fixer happy, and word will spread over their little network. That's the secret." He settled down. "Anything else?"
I sighed. "Slow and steady wins the race. Got it." I got off the chair. "Wasn't Night City all about half as long, twice as bright?" I muttered.
"Legends aren't made in moments." Viktor stated. "Can you think of any name that got their rep in a few weeks?" When I remained silent, he nodded. "Exactly."
"Mm. Thanks for the advice." He was trying to be helpful, I recognized that. I just needed to be patient. I'd get my speedware, railguns and millions of eddies someday, just not anytime soon, that was all. Still, I'd like to at least be making enough dosh that I could afford some real food. It just wasn't in the cards yet. "See you again."
"Sure hope so." He said as I waved goodbye.
I climbed up the stairs, thinking to myself. Again, I could feel the ache of boredom growing. Maybe I ought to arrange to kick the can of loneliness down the road. I didn't want to go to Kabuki again though, and I definitely didn't want to look desperate, so what now?
I pondered the question as I began my trek, before I stopped, realising that I'd completely forgotten to ask for lessons on cybertechnology and medicine, and it was way too awkward to walk back in now. "Fuuuck." I sighed. Today was just not my day, was it?
----------------------------------------
Finding a hotel in Japantown wasn't tough, but finding an affordable one was.
It was relatively late, and the hustle and bustle of tourists and locals here to have a good time was surprisingly tough to navigate. The street terminals were unhelpful, pointing me constantly to places with all sorts of luxury services and attractions that I simply couldn't afford, and I just didn't trust the locals. Partially because whoever would help me would probably be trying to sell me something. Partially because a good chunk of them were gangsters.
Jun
Tyger Claw Thug
Lvl 11
Str: 31
Vit: 33
Dex: 36
Int: 24
Tech: 18
Cha: 16
Muscle equipped with a ceramic Katana. Their tattoos are implanted with chips that confuse targeting systems like those used in smart weapons, not that you have any, you penniless fuck.
The Tyger Claws' roots were in the Chinese and Japanese demographics of Night City, and they ruled Japantown with an iron fist. The entire district and all its nightclubs, casinos and braindance bars were their cash cow, and they were both savvy and psychotic, with their business and enemies respectively.
I took care to not make eye contact with the trio of tattooed youths standing to the side of the street as I walked past them. I already had Maelstrom hunting me. Didn't need the Tyger Claws getting mixed up in that as well.
I breathed out a sigh of relief as I made some distance between me and them, looking past the whores, both holographic and real, and stepping around a few inebriated businessmen as they staggered their way into another bar.
My cash reserves weren't necessarily pitiful, but nightclubs and casinos just weren't my thing. As an introverted type that tried to keep myself from addiction, I avoided them out of principle. Still, the atmosphere of the place was infectious, and I couldn't help but have a giddy grin on my face as I watched neon displays dance over the crowds. One day, this would be regular and dull to me, but not today.
Eventually, when I decided to get back to my task of finding shelter for the night, I began to make my way towards Megabuilding H8. They had so much inside them, even if I couldn't get my hands on an apartment, I could probably find a hotel or two in its interior, right?
Then, I felt a brief tingle up my spine, and my head tilted as I felt the pull of the system. I debated internally for a moment. On one hand, I really couldn't afford any more trouble. On the other hand, there was nothing stopping me from just looking, right? Besides, one little incident would probably be fine. If it came down to it.
Okay, it definitely wouldn't be. I ought to keep myself in check unless it was something really important.
I found myself getting closer and closer to H8, before I made a slight swerve to my right, stopping at the side of a walkway overlooking a parking space for a convenience store. My brow furrowed as I took in the sight. There seemed to be a gathering of cars and people down there, as well as cheering and laughter as bottles changed hands. A party? Why was my system bringing me here?
Then, I recognized the long-armed figure at the center, doing tricks for a small crowd. Plates and bottles spun across the man's glittering, segmented fingers and lanky arms as the folks around him cheered at the display.
Pilar
Edgerunner
Lvl 21
Str: 22
Vit: 18
Dex: 41
Int: 47
Tech: 26
Cha: 19
A techie with a love for chrome and a crass sense of humor. Rebecca's brother, and also her gunsmith.
Notable Abilities: Scanner, Anti-dazzle, Cyberhands
My eyes flickered through the rest of those present. The burly leader of the crew was sitting on the bumper of a car, drinking from a bottle as he cuddled with a woman that was nearly as muscular as he was, watching the show. The man was clearly cybered up with unnaturally bulky arms that I knew concealed deadly cyberware, while the woman was less so, but still built like a brick shithouse.
Maine
Edgerunner
Lvl 27
Str: 87
Vit: 76
Dex: 34
Int: 26
Tech: 24
Cha: 36
A veteran and the leader of a crew of edgerunners, who constantly seeks to better himself with cyberware. Values friendships more than glory.
Notable Abilities: Gorilla Arms, Projectile Launch System
Dorio
Edgerunner
Lvl 24
Str: 72
Vit: 47
Dex: 41
Int: 28
Tech: 32
Cha: 31
Maine's right-hand woman and main squeeze. Has a tough exterior, but is soft and caring to those she trusts.
Notable Abilities: Gorilla Arms
My eyes then moved to a pink figure sitting on her own at the edge of the party, her attention focused on not the display, but the crowd overall. Previously, I would have had trouble making out her features from this distance, but with my new eye, I could zoom in, catching sight of her detachable cybernetic jaw.
Kiwi
Edgerunner
Lvl 25
Str: 12
Vit: 25
Dex: 23
Int: 39
Tech: 17
Cha: 16
A snarky netrunner who was brought on as a replacement when the previous one gave her life to expose corporate greed. Actually has a cyber-dog companion that she cares for a great deal.
Notable Abilities: Cyberdeck, Scanner
Rebecca was there too, laughing as she threw a bottle at Pilar that was snatched out of the air and added to the show. It seemed like she was having fun, and I could hear the distant pulse of music. I didn't particularly like the choice of beats, but the atmosphere seemed nice.
Rebecca
Edgerunner
Lvl 23
Str: 11
Vit: 19
Dex: 61
Int: 37
Tech: 12
Cha: 25
A solo with an inordinate love for inordinate guns. Pilar's sister and backup. Is enamored with philosophical and social questions but simple in her wants and needs. Parched.
(If you're wondering why she's so much better than you despite the Dex scores, that's because she has way more practice, bozo.)
Notable Abilities: N/A
It was humbling to compare and contrast their scores and abilities to my own. I doubted that their bodies could function like I did, but there was still definitely a gap in our skills. Rebecca had made that clear at the shooting range, but seeing it written out in numbers hammered it in.
I kept an eye out for David, curious to see what I'd find on his sheet, only to fail to see even a hint of his yellow kitsch jacket. I scanned the crowd trying to find him, only to see the last member of Maine's crew looking me dead in the eye.
Lucyna
Edgerunner
Lvl 29
Str: 18
Vit: 37
Dex: 41
Int: 66
Tech: 52
Cha: 36
Knows that you're there.
Notable Abilities: Cyberdeck, Scanner, Monowire
We were maybe a hundred meters apart, and the others seemed to have not noticed, too caught up in their party to see me, but I had no doubt in my mind that she was locking eyes with me, and goddamn was that freaky. She had a mixed kitsch and neomilitaristic look that would have dragged my eye downwards any other moment, but right now?
I could swear that her eyes gleamed with red for a moment, and I took that as my cue to get the fuck out. Feeling an iota of daring, I casually threw her the devil horns before I got up from where I was leaning on the walkway wall and headed towards Megabuilding H8, picking up my search where I had left off.
Parties weren't my scene, anyways.
As it turned out, there was a 24-hour motel tucked close to the Megabuilding with reasonable rates and no questions asked. A few bills and I had room and board for the night. It would cut into my finances a little, staying here every day for two weeks, but so long as Regina kept gigs coming my way, I'd be set.
I sat down on my ratty bed with a huff. Honestly, even looking at the damn thing felt itchy, and I didn't even want to touch the sink. I seriously considered the room, before I decided my course of action.
I went through my exercise routine, doing my best to burn through my stamina and every muscle in my body with half an hour of furious exercise without break. When I began to feel my joints ache all over, I stared at my prospective bed, and seriously considered whether or not the floor would be better.
"Fuck it."
I grabbed the pillow from the bed and shook it, loosing a few dead bugs from the casing. I brushed them to the side with a grimace, before I sat down at the door, leaning my back against it as I placed the pillow behind my head. Then, as I watched the ceiling fan slowly turn, I flipped the switch in my mind and sleep took me.
Then, after an unknowable period of darkness, it lost me as my head impacted the tile floor outside my room.
My eyes slowly, painfully cracked open as I stared up at black, knee-high boots, before moving to white shorts, to a black unitard paired with white jacket, to shocked pastel eyes as their owner stared down at me.
I took a brief glance at the time where it was spelled out in the corner of my vision. 11:04 pm. Too late for this shit.
Still, I gave Lucy the finger guns from my position on the ground. "Howdy."
She just crossed her arms and glared at me, apparently not in the mood. "So, what's your angle?"
"Angle?" I asked, my mind slowly rumbling to life. Also, wow her voice was appealingly soft. And my mind was sleep-addled. Apparently [Gamer's Mind] didn't defend against horny and tired. Who knew?
"Your sudden interest in my crew. You didn't come here by accident, I know that much. I'll ask again. What's your angle? Who hired you?" Her voice was ice, and her eyes were narrowed.
"Hired me?" Exasperation and exhaustion colored my tone as I got up off the ground. "Okay, wait. Hang on, I need to wrap my head around the situation." I paused, my mind running through her words. "Okay, so you think I'm a spy?"
"Do you expect me to believe this is all one big coincidence?" She fired back. "Don't try to fool me. Why else would I see you twice in the span of a week? You don't have a reason to follow us around."
I leaned against the doorframe, my face scrunched up as I ran my retort through my head. On one hand, I had plenty of reasons. On the other hand, those reasons were kinda pathetic. "I'm goddamn lonely." Didn't seem like an answer either of us wanted, so I workshopped my response for a moment, before I gave my answer. "Rebecca's been in this line of work way longer than I have, and she's generous with advice."
"So she'd been training you." She said, coldly. Her eyes flickered to mine. "That doesn't explain what you're doing in Japantown, though."
I scratched my neck in an itchy spot from where the pillow touched. Okay, using the pillow from that rat's nest of a bed was definitely a mistake. "Bit of a story, that one. But long story short, I fucked around with Maelstrom and now I'm staying out of their way while they try to find me out." I paused. "In case it wasn't clear, that means I'm hiding from Maelstrom."
Her eyes narrowed. "And what did you do to get on their shitlist?"
"Hunt their patrols for…" I ran the timeline through my head. "Two weeks-ish."
She scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Pull the other one."
"I'm serious. I've done nothing but work out and hunt Maelstrom for about three weeks now."
Her eyebrow arched. "Nothing else?"
"Well, there was that meetup with David and Rebecca, a few jobs from Regina, and some fire drills, but yeah, that pretty much sums up my life." I confirmed.
Her brow furrowed as she looked at me in confusion. "Wait, if not Regina, then who gave you contracts going against Maelstrom, then?"
"Contracts?" I asked, similarly flummoxed. "I did that shit for free."
She stared at me for a moment of dead silence. "Bullshit."
Whelp, if she wasn't going to listen to what I had to say… I pressed the switch on the door, and it slid closed. Then, it glided back open, revealing Lucy's eyes glittering with code, her expression was somehow even flatter than before.
I tried to shut it again, unable to help the chortle that escaped me, but the switch refused to respond. "You know, I find that comedy routines work best when the punchline is in threes." I muttered in disappointment.
"You think this is time for jokes?" There was an edge to her voice, but whether it was the sleepiness or annoyance at her conduct, I found that I didn't care as I glared back at her.
"Well, if you're not going to take what I say seriously, why bother you with business?" I gave a wave and a grimace. "Seriously, it's 11 in the evening. I'm tired. I've had a long day. If you don't believe me, give Regina a ring. She's the one who tipped me off to the manhunt." I paused, before raising a finger. "Though I'd prefer you didn't do that. She probably wouldn't be happy about me spreading knowledge of her crazy-ass Fixer reach. Ask the guy in the Second Amendment in Megabuilding H11 instead, he'll confirm my wack schedule."
The two of us held eye contact. The look on her face was wary, and her eyes flickered with shades of red for reasons I could only guess at. Any other time I would have probably acted more carefully, played my cards close to my chest. But right now, the fact that she could kill me in a literal instant didn't seem to matter in the slightest. Instead, all I wanted to do was go back to sleep.
"We done here? You gonna unhack my door?" I asked.
The door slid shut without a word.
I stared at the closed door for a moment. "Dick." I muttered as I settled back down.
It was only in the morning that I realised that I had been locked in.
----------------------------------------
Her scanner was lying to her. That was the only answer Lucy could think of.
Despite his ire, his tired condition, his irreverent way of speaking and simple language, his cadence and way of speaking was strangely compelling, though she couldn't fathom why. It wasn't practiced or rehearsed, and there was certainly nothing deliberate about it. A public speaking chip like the politicians used was the obvious answer, but her scanner only picked up a neural link, not even the hint of a chipware socket or neural port. There were other, more invasive, more concealable types of cyberware that could accomplish the same thing, or tricks one could accomplish with modified skinweave to hide the obvious sources, but whatever it was, it was too well hidden for a man of Razzle's supposed means.
Then there was his heartbeat. Throughout the conversation, whether he was waking up, getting frustrated, when he lied or even when he laughed, it was always a steady sixty beats per minute. One beat per second. Not even the slightest of fluctuations at any point. There were artificial hearts that could accomplish that sort of thing, but the scanner didn't pick up any signs of that either. So whether it was his heartbeat or the cyberware he had, her scanner was lying to her. Whichever it was didn't matter, only the fact that it was.
Lucy could easily believe that corporations would put together research and development programs to baffle consumer scanner technology, but that suggested corporate connections that didn't fit.
There were other things that didn't fit together. His eye had changed, but there weren't any scars. It was possible that a ripperdoc could sculpt his face to hide the marks, but if he had wealth like that, he wouldn't stay at a hotel like this, would he?
And there was one more thing, not based on logic but intuition. Along with the way he spoke, there was something deliberate but casual about his every action that made her hackles rise, from the way he rose from the ground, to his every gesture, to even the way leaned against the doorframe. It reminded her of what Kiwi had said that first night. "No fallback."
Somehow he reminded her of Faraday, with how assured he was. Like he was completely certain that there was nothing Lucy could do to him.
Lucy dismissed that thought. Faraday was a corpo fixer. A man that oozed with wealth and means. Razzle wasn't.
It had still been risky trying to sneak up on the man, and even more so confronting him up close, but she had faith that if it came down to it, the close quarters of the hotel would work to her favor, allowing her monowire to shred him without space or time to dodge, no matter what kind of cyberware he had. And in the end, she'd managed to leave with what she'd needed without a fight.
The personal coprocessor was an implant so common that most didn't even think of getting it as chipping in. It was a chip hidden in one's predominant hand that fulfilled functions almost like a wallet, allowing one to store both wealth and personal identification. A few moments together was all it took for her to snag his State Identification Number, and with it came everything else.
Lucy narrowed her eyes as she stepped out into the street, her cyberoptics allowing her to flick through identity documentation, medical history, everything she could get her hands on as she made her way home.
The picture that was painted was stark and simple. Ron Robinson was an orphan, his parents the victims of gang violence. He had been raised by an extended family who had also perished later, well into his adulthood. He had attended a public school, and pursued no further career. Four years completely devoid of meaningful activity then led to a sudden buying spree of arms that had put him on a NCPD watchlist. A veritable arsenal of guns, ammunition and grenades, all purchased a few weeks ago, and then apparently put to use hunting gang members.
There seemed to be a shred of truth to what he'd said earlier, but that just made even less sense. Four years of nothing, only to erupt in a killing spree that was seemingly unprovoked. It was possible that the documentation and records were forged, but considering how it had all the little details and mistakes that any person in Night City would have in their personal files, the simple answer that it was all true seemed just as likely.
So either somebody had established a fake identity to start a crusade against Maelstrom, or Ron Robinson was an agent being pushed by something higher up the proverbial food chain to draw the gang's attention. But then why would he take an interest in her crew?
She doubted that the first meeting had been anything but coincidence. There was simply no way that there had been a period of observation before that, with both her and Kiwi watching the crew's backs in cyberspace and the crew's collective awareness in realspace, not to mention Ron's complete lack of subtlety. So what had he seen that night that had attracted his attention? Was it really Rebecca, or was his target someone else?
If Arasaka knew about her, they wouldn't have sent this man, and even if they had, he would have tried something while they were alone. And he certainly didn't act interested in her personally, so she doubted that this was about her. David, maybe? But what could he possibly want with him?
She needed to investigate. Regina Jones, and the Second Amendment in Megablock H11. That would be her starting point.
It was minutes later, in her apartment in Megabuilding H8, that an implausible theory struck Lucy. An idea so ridiculous that she promptly dismissed it without thought. The idea that there weren't two answers to who he was, but three.
Either Ron Robinson was a fake identity of someone with a vendetta, or he was the real identity of a man with a mission…
Or that there had once been a man called Ron Robinson, and that somebody else, somebody who looked virtually identical, had stepped into his place with no-one the wiser.