It was in the middle of the afternoon when I found myself standing on a rusty rooftop in the middle of Northside, watching a small squad of Maelstrom paint the cracked concrete ground with blood.

Not fresh blood from a bleeding victim, mind you. I would have already stepped in if that were the case. Instead, they had a cooler filled with bloodbags that they were tearing open and pouring onto the ground, spreading it with their hands to form what looked like a pentagon. There was a fridge turned sideways in the center of it all, filled with ice, blood, and organs which I sincerely doubted were ethically sourced.

I was trying to limit my violence for now, letting the heat die down so that Maelstrom would forget that I existed. But I also wanted to actually get somewhere with my mercenary career, and letting Regina Jones forget that I existed seemed antithetical to that goal. In the end, I made the choice to put my services back on the market after a few days of rest and relaxation, with the intention of keeping my killing to gigs only.

My capacity for violence and my ability to grow from it were part of me. A very important part of me, considering my surroundings and goals in life. Denying it or my ability to grow from it seemed more like denial than anything. Unhealthy for my mind and unhealthy for my prospects in the long-term.

But I had to keep optics in mind, too. Normal people didn't go out and do what I did often, and they certainly didn't hunt gangers for shits and giggles. I might have damn good reasons to cull Maelstrom where I could, moral or otherwise. I'd downloaded an app recently where I could determine if the people I scanned had NCPD bounties on them, and lo and behold, the group all seemed to have an array of crimes and associated bounties, but interestingly enough, only a few that would constitute a life sentence back home.

Blackmail, battery of an NCPD officer, slander against a corporation, unlawful imprisonment, forced cyberware installment, second degree murder. The last two would have been big deals, even back home, but here, all the crimes meant one thing and one thing only.

Wanted, dead or alive. How Wildly Western that was. I couldn't help but find a little humor in it as I fingered the revolver on my waist.

Each one was worth about two hundred eddies. That alone was about twenty square if unsatisfactory meals. Multiplied by six, that was a thousand and two hundred. Add on what Regina was paying me to stop this lot from lowering the property values nearby, and I was raking in a cool two and a half thousand for this job.

But what did that number actually mean? Well, it meant that for the next week or so… I could splurge. Even after cutting off a slice for my motel room rent, there was still plenty to play with. I'd avoided looking into video games since I got here, but now that I wasn't going out shooting people for kicks, I needed something to pass the time.

The net fiction scene was lacking, probably as a result of the Datakrash, so I couldn't exactly read fanfiction all day. Not that anybody would make any fiction of the settings I cared about anyways, given the totally different world I was in. As for anything similar to the Youtube I'd been addicted to, that was all behind paywalls too. The video games seemed great… but one look at their monetary practices made me want to scream. Almost every game would nickel and dime you for everything. The hours you'd play. The currency. The resurrection timer when you died. Every time you jumped… in a platforming game.

Thousands of dollars was plenty to pay for it all. I simply felt sick with the idea of contributing to any of these industries in their current state.

There were other things I could get, though. eBooks. Movies. Hell, I could even eat actual food. Honest to god meat from cows and pigs. Sometimes cloned, but after the locust pizza being the closest thing to edible I wasn't particularly judgy.

A few nights of that and then it'd be all gone. And I'd be back to the grind, waiting on the next mission.

But there was another way to go. I could save it, and prepare to buy a Sandevistan. The lowest quality ones that would still be reliable were about six grand. Viktor didn't have one of those in stock, his stuff was of a higher quality and at an eye-watering price, but I could just buy from the rippers and have Viktor chip it in.

Of course, there was no point in counting chickens before they hatched. One by one, they were highlighted in my vision, my Kiroshi eye marking them in red as I scanned them all. As a group, I doubted that they'd pose much of a threat. Just in case, I scanned the tub a few times, looking for any hints of an extra member that I'd missed, but there were no signs of anything of the sort.

I couldn't help but feel a sense of intrigue, I was curious about what the ritual the Maelstrom members were preparing would entail. Chanting? Dances? Virgin sacrifices?

There was a brief wave of amusement before I sobered, realizing that there most likely had been a few sacrifices to procure those organs.

[Buff Gained: Iron Skin - Minor Armour Stack]

[Buff Gained: Concentration - Minor DEX Multiplier]

I pulled the pin on a grenade, waited a second, and tossed it. Heads filled with red optics turned, and screams erupted, but I didn't wait to see the blast. Instead, I was already moving, jumping to a nearby stack of shipping crates and jumping to ground level from there. As great as high ground was, I didn't want to have to deal with reloading if I missed my shots. I absorbed the impact with my legs the best I could, trusting in my vitality to handle what my dexterity couldn't.

My awareness of my body didn't necessarily mean that I was amazing at long-ranged shots, but up close, I could aim and fire with accuracy in moments. That meant that I was at my best in the thick of it, I heard an explosion as two alerts appeared in the corner of my vision.

[+400 EXP]

[+400 EXP]

I'd aimed for a group of three, but I didn't have the time to think about what that meant as I fired at a shocked Stromer. The left side of his head exploded into synthetic white gore, and I briefly pulled on [Reflex] to reorient my gun at another gangster diving into cover behind a rusted, disused car. I watched as his body flopped behind the car limply in slow motion, missing the mind which drove it.

[+400 EXP]

[+400 EXP]

I felt a bullet strike me in the side, and I flinched for a moment, allowing for a few more to strike me in the side. The pain was sharp, but only a brief distraction as my other hand went to my other holster without thought. In a fit of bloodthirsty pique, I crossed my arms, pulled the moment out with [Reflex] and fired.

My Nova shattered the optic of the prick who had shot me, sending him back with a bellow of pain, his sidearm clattering to the ground as he clutched at his face, while my Overture sent the last other man back a step, causing his shotgun blast to veer off to the side. I uncrossed my arms and fired again, the Overture shot striking the shoulder of the first man and the Nova shot dropping the second.

[Health: 748/800]

[+400 EXP]

And then, I kept going. I held both of my pistols sideways and fired them at center mass, then I turned, holding one in front of my chest and the other at arm's length. Two simultaneous barks echoed out. I advanced a step, swapping out the one at arm's length and holding the other behind my back. This time, only the Nova behind my back fired, striking the riddled, falling man near the pelvis. I strode up to the man and fired the final bullet into his cranium.

[+400 EXP]

Quest Success!

Gained 3000 EXP

Cred: 2 > 3

I took a quick breath, twirled the two guns, and slid them into their holsters, I felt a vague sense of shock at the ease of it. At the ease of how I'd just-

I bit back a groan as adrenaline faded and hindsight kicked in, pulling out my Overture in a manner nowhere near as flashy as I had put it in. As I emptied the cylinder, I shook my head at my own antics. The sequence had seemed so cool at the time in my head, I just couldn't help but go with the flow in the heat of the moment! But now I felt a flush of embarrassment traveling up my neck. Nobody could learn of this, I swore to myself as I reloaded. Nobody.

I walked over to the fridge as I pulled out my agent, thumbing through my contacts and calling my Fixer. "All clear." I said, placing the Overture back in its holster.

"Mhm. Quick work as always. Gig's closed." Regina answered.

"Wait, hang on. Before you go." I said, clamping my agent between my head and shoulder as I pulled out the Nova and started reloading that as well. "Just wanted to ask, what does it take before I get put on bigger gigs? You know, stuff with a few more zeroes on the end?"

"Part of it's consistency which- holiday aside, you've done well on." My face flattened at the reminder of my brief siesta, but it was important to me, so I eased up quickly. "But there's another issue. Watson is poor. Sure, the gangs will hide product worth eddies there, but there isn't exactly a distribution center to target for a big payout. And despite all the payback people want against Maelstrom or the Scavs, they generally don't have the eddies to make a hit job with 'a few more zeroes'."

"Right, so nothing in Watson's big. Gotcha." I muttered as I tucked my reloaded Nova back into its holster and grabbed my agent again.

There was a snort on the other end of the line. "Not nothing, but it's rare. If you want better paying work, or more frequent eddies, I can put you in touch with some other Fixers."

I blinked. "That easy?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. It felt like Regina and I had a very straightforward relationship. She'd point to a gang hideout and I'd kill everyone there, whether loudly or quietly. But I figured that she'd want to keep me coming to her and her alone. Maybe it was a bit arrogant of me, but I considered myself quite effective, especially considering the ease of the work she gave me.

"Better to put in a good word with an associate than have you running around picking up odd jobs." She explained. "That way people don't think they can exploit your labor." Or not give you a cut, I briefly thought, but I held my tongue. "And besides, I don't think the work you do for anyone else is going to stop you from taking my jobs."

"Why do you think that?" I asked before I could stop myself. I mean, she wasn't wrong, per se, but I was curious about her idea of me.

"You say yes to everything I tell you to do." She stated simply.

"I have lines." I said, somewhat defensively. "You send me against Maelstrom and Scavs, there's no trouble in that." Except for the bounty on my head, come to think of it, but I meant more in the moral sense.

"And what are those lines, exactly?" She asked. Somehow, I got the impression that her arms were crossed.

I winced at the directness of her query. That was a question I struggled to answer myself, sometimes. "Not sure. I just don't want to find myself becoming an accessory to human trafficking or anything."

"But if it's Maelstrom?" She pressed, and I immediately saw her point.

"That'd be fine." I explained, if I was willing to kill them, there wasn't much else I wasn't willing to do against them, barring anything truly heinous. "But I don't want the stuff that I do to be too muddy. I get that you have to be ruthless in a corp sometimes, especially the higher up you go, but I don't want to be kidnapping R&D people, for example. Unless they experiment on unwilling humans, or pump out drugs to sell on the streets. And I don't want to screw over civilians without a damn good reason, either."

Regina's headshot looked severe, and she was probably less than happy in real life too. I knew that the lines I drew were poorly defined, but I wasn't some unthinking gun, dammit. "Nobody's clean in Night City, Raz." She paused, before continuing in a more neutral tone. "If you have a line, then turn down jobs that cross it. I'll give my associates a heads up, but you'll have to give them the details yourself." The call closed with a click, and I sighed.

It made sense, the highest paying jobs were given by the wealthiest people, and in this shark tank of a city, that probably meant the most ruthless, coldblooded corpos, gang leaders, and fixers. That didn't mean that there were no high-paying jobs I could take without being morally reprehensible, such as assassinating other high-level snakes, stealing millions worth of goods from monsters, rescuing hostage bluebloods… biz could mean all sorts of things.

I simply wanted to try and be mindful of what I did, and the results of my actions. To be sure that the stuff I did didn't bite me in the ass, if nothing else.

That being said, that didn't mean that the jobs I turned down would go unfinished. There were plenty in this city who'd trade their morals for cold cash, whether they were mercs or Fixers. Regina seemed alright, and so far most of my business was against gang members that I was happy to kill, but I couldn't help but wonder where her lines were. How much would it take for her to drop her morals, especially considering the fact that she would hand the actual dirty work to someone else.

What would it take for her to turn on me? I couldn't help but wonder. Hopefully a decent sum. At least whatever Maelstrom was offering for me wasn't enough, or this job would have been an ambush.

…I glanced left and right, looking for hidden Maelstrom members waiting to spring out, only for nothing to happen. I shrugged at nothing, before my eyes caught sight of something, a long black rod extending from the interior of the gore-filled fridge.

Vaguely curious, I walked up to the container and pulled the thing out, only for the reveal of what it was to steal my breath away. "No fuckin' way." I whispered.

It looked like somebody from Maelstrom had decided to take a Katana and turn it into a scythe. It had a long, curved steel handle still dripping with bloody water, and its blade was clearly a katana that'd been bolted on, sanded to have an extra edge on its back and reinforced with a metal frame. It proudly bore Maelstrom colors and designs, built from black and red metals and with what looked like a few red optics drilled into where the blade met the handle.

???

A scythe with a built-in motherboard, though how it's supposed to work when drenched in water and blood is anyone's guess.

There was a bit of intestine hanging from the handle that I gingerly flicked off, before I lifted it out from its container with a sense of awe. It came up to my head lengthwise, and the reinforcements suggested that I'd actually be able to swing it at someone without it immediately breaking, unlike a certain piece of plastic garbage.

Not that I was ever going to use it, of course. Scythes were utterly impractical. Unsuited for melee combat. Worthless in a fight. I briefly ran my finger over its edge, before wiping my wet fingers on my coat. It certainly seemed to be properly sharp.

I swung it a few times, red droplets splattering the ground. I couldn't help my puerile grin as I waved it about like a kid with a stick. I let its butt hit the ground, before lifting it again and giving it a twirl, before I remembered myself.

[Sorairo Days], did anyone see?

I kept a careful eye on the map which appeared, and when nothing popped up I dismissed it, shoving the scythe into my inventory. It'd make a good mantlepiece, once I cleaned off the gore with a lot of soap.

After all, I'd look ridiculous with the thing, wouldn't I?

Yes. Clearly.

----------------------------------------

The first time I'd looked at the Cherry Blossom market of Japantown at night had caused me to cry. Just a little. I couldn't help it, It had been everything I hoped for. A neon, glittering space surrounded with holographic Sakura, filled with vendors of every stripe. Red lanterns hung overhead, while the rain was held back by a glass roof, and above it all, a massive statue with four arms watched over it all.

It had a beauty to it that the interiors of Megabuildings simply didn't, even though they had much of the same elements. Maybe it was the fact that it was out in the streets and open air, or maybe it was the asian elements. Either way, it seemed like a nice way to spend the night with a friend.

I'd have much rather spent the night at Rebecca's apartment watching the next Bushido movie, but with Maelstrom looking for me, I didn't want to chance them tracking me to her place and pulling something.

She wasn't worried about it herself, but she'd agreed to come here instead on the condition that we would start our little walkabout Japantown in a place of her choosing.

Really, I wasn't sure what I expected.

"Rifles and Pistols?" I read off the storefront. "Couldn't they have at least come up with something more creative?

"It gets the point across, don't it?" She fired back, her arms crossed behind her head casually as she walked in.

I sighed as I followed. Hopefully, I wouldn't have to physically drag her away from another argument. The man behind the counter gave the two of us a dubious look as we entered, a strange expression on his face as he looked at Rebecca. She paid him no mind as she walked up to the display cases and began perusing.

We settled into a companionable silence as walked all over the shop, looking at all sorts of displays and advertisements. Thankfully, this was a place I could find interest in, not only because these were implements that would determine if I lived or died, but also because seeing how weapons technology had advanced was fascinating to me.

In a lot of cases, guns were what you'd expect to find in the earlier parts of the 21st century. Simple, straightforward guns that fired straightforward 9mm rounds, like the Militech Lexington Automatic pistol that David carried, or the Constitutional Arms Unity that Rebecca used.

The Nokota Copperhead was the future's idea of the AK-47, a mass-manufactured assault rifle that was reliable and functional, and the mac and cheese of shotguns, the Constitutional Arms Tactician, weapons that I'd grown used with, though nowadays I was vastly more familiar with the Overture and the Nova, who were themselves straightforward and uncomplicated leadspitters, setting aside the Overture's high recoil.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

But it was clear that the dark future had more than just our guns but subtly different. For example, one of the more pricey ammunition types sold at this store was the 9.5mm micro guided missiles, meant for guns like the Kang Tao Dian and the Kang Tao Zhuo. They were "smart guns", weapons that would link with the appropriate cyberware in order to fire projectiles that could reorient themselves mid-air.

In the back of my mind, I vaguely remembered the United States of my time trying to invent genuine sentry guns, but having trouble with the ethics of deploying unmanned weaponry. I wasn't entirely sure whether it was advances in technology or lack of moral qualms that had spearheaded the invention of weapons that aimed for you. Most likely a mix of both, I concluded.

In any case, it seemed like this world's United States had gotten past that much like the Chinese megacorp had, judging by the sentry gun platform on display in the store's center. Or at least, the Megacorporation Militech had, though telling where one began and the other ended was tough. The heavy machine gun nestled inside the weapons platform held Rebecca's intent gaze.

"You wouldn't even be able to lift that." I stated with absolute certainty.

"I'll figure something out." She said back, not breaking eye contact with the weapon for even a second. "I've seen Animals goons do it."

I chose not to mention the fact that the Animal goons she was talking about could probably throw her around like a frisbee. "This is an artillery platform in miniature. Why would you even need this much firepower?" I asked in complete bafflement, before I briefly recalled the fact that I lived in Night City. Then, I quietly put a bit more thought into it. I was pretty sure that the sheer volume of fire, damage output and the weapon's profile meant that on the streets of Night City, it would rarely be worth lugging around compared to a light machine gun like the Defender.

Unless one was going up against a more heavily armored target, like corp transports, or Maxtac. "Big job?" I asked.

She shook her head. "Just want to feel it in my hands." She said, rubbing them together at the mere thought of it, a devious grin on her face.

I sighed in exasperation as I put my hands on my waist. "What you'd feel is enough recoil to shatter your ribcage."

She pouted as we moved on, and I quickly found my eyes glued to another display of the ingenuity of the 2070's. As it turned out, along with AI, cybernetics, nanotechnology and flying cars, the people of the dark future had also figured out man-portable railguns, such as the Militech Achilles before me.

Two seconds of charge time, and it would send five 4.5mm tungsten flechettes through anything. Walls, armored vehicles, you name it, and it would penetrate. I'd only ever heard of it in the hands of Maxtac officers for their unique ability to penetrate any amount of subdermal armor, rendering even the most heavily chromed cyberpsycho to scrap, and it was no wonder, looking at its incredibly steep price.

I winced at the number displayed. It was more than I'd ever held in my lifetime, costing tens of thousands of dollars. More than the entirety of my contractor paycheck. I shook my head as I stepped back, I'd stick with good old rooting tooting shooters, thank you very much.

Not like I could style on people with a railgun like I could with a handgun, anyways. I quietly shoved my memory of the Maelstrom fight earlier down a deep, dark hole and turned to look at Rebecca, who wasn't as enthused as I thought she would be. "Not interested?"

She shrugged. "Seems like an overpriced, complicated piece of junk to me."

I briefly tilted my head. "Nothing to do with the lack of recoil?" I spitballed.

It seemed like I'd guessed right, judging by the look on her face. "And it sounds weird, too." She grumbled.

I blinked in surprise. "You've seen one in action?"

"Yeah, some Tyger Claw broad. No idea where she got it." She shrugged. "Ended up selling it for extra eds. Wanna shoot something before we go?"

I stopped for a moment, briefly considering my massively boosted Dexterity score. It wouldn't be too suspicious if I didn't use [Reflex] to orient my shots, right? "Sure." I finally said. We stepped downstairs to a basement filled with blue fluorescent lights and stopped at separate stalls. "Minute long match?" I offered, drawing the Overture.

She gave me a cocky grin. "Gonna gift me any more eds for my time?"

I rolled my eyes. "Hundred if you win. Hundred if I win."

Her grin widened. "If." She echoed.

A few seconds into our competition, I was pretty much forced to swap to the Nova. The recoil of the Overture was simply far too much for the pace of our competition. It didn't help much, though. Our fire rate was about the same, but where I scored body shots in quick succession, Rebecca would score consistent headshots on the targets. There was also the fact that as quickly as I could reload, she could slip in a new clip just as quickly, and her pistol had far more shots in it than a six-shot revolver.

I felt a strange sense of relief as she pulled ahead. I was vastly faster than before, no doubt about it, but her experience was simply too great. Shooting seemed as natural to her as breathing. I gave it as good as I got, but by the end, she still nearly doubled my score.

[Handgun: 17 > 18]

She whistled as our match came to an end, "Dayum. Not bad!" She said with a grin. "You're getting really good at this!"

"After a lot of practice." I fibbed. My training regimen was nowhere near as intensive as it used to be, as a result of me trying to get a life now that I was happier with my skills. Most of my time nowadays was spent with more casual exercises, such as messing around with my mana barriers, using them to form simple shapes and in order to improve my control and strength. I'd rotate them mid-air while focusing on something else. It reminded me a little of a fidget spinner, but magic.

"Mhm." She leaned in with half-lidded eyes, "You know… you improved a lot really quick." She gave me a smug smile. "Really, really quick."

"I didn't chip anything in, if that's what you're asking." I said as I flicked her the cash. "Too poor for it."

Her grin widened, "Oh? Not even a training shard?" She probed.

I shook my head. "Got a neural link, recently, but haven't got enough for a shard port yet, let alone a chipware socket." Though, that was an idea that I'd tossed around. The original system had been able to consume books in order to grant its user all sorts of useful skills, and even spells. I doubted that anything in Cyberpunk would be that effective, but perhaps it'd be able to consume skill chips and training shards for EXP, or something.

It would take a good chunk of my funds to chip it in though, so was I holding off until I had more funds.

She gave me a doubtful look, and I pulled my collar aside to show her my bare neck. "Huh, no kidding." She said with surprise.

"Did I really improve that much?" I asked as I let my collar go, interested in her perspective.

"Not really, or at least, not aim wise. That was already pretty good." She answered, rubbing her chin. "It was the reloading that surprised me."

I considered her response, before nodding. "Makes sense." At some point, probably after the Cyberpsycho, or maybe when I'd put dexterity up to 100, the system had changed in a way that felt so natural that I had failed to realize it until way later. When I reloaded my guns, bullets, shells and clips would appear in my hands without them even going into the inventory first. I still dipped my hands into my coat pockets to hide it, but the subtle change combined with a massive boost in my coordination had gotten me down to under a second.

Considering that I loaded each bullet individually now, instead of with a speed loader, I was pretty fucking quick, if I said so myself.

"Whelp, got to buy myself some more clips before we go." Rebecca said, wheeling around and heading up. She raised an eyebrow as I stood there. "Not coming?"

I shook my head, "In a sec. Just want to test something before I go. Feel free to go ahead, I've got plenty of ammo." About three hundred rounds or so, not that I'd be able to explain where I kept it all.

She shrugged and went upstairs, and I breathed out a relieved sigh I hadn't even known I was holding. Casually, I lifted my arm at the furthest stationary target I could see. I put as little thought into aiming as possible, before squeezing the trigger, again and again, until six shots had exited my Overture. I squinted at the target, moving over a few stalls to have a closer look.

Under the harsh light, I could see a particularly wide dent that'd been bored into the target's background. It was as if all my shots had lapped over each other, because they had. I hadn't even consciously compensated for recoil, all I had done was hold my arm as still as I could and fired. And yet, each and every one had struck nearly the exact same point.

My accuracy left something to be desired it seemed, but my precision was something else. Maybe the [Handguns] skill governed the former more than the latter, while Dexterity governed the latter more than the former? Or maybe [Gamer's Body] was affecting me in unforeseen ways.

Either way, it seemed like I wasn't pulling off any sniper shots any time soon, not that it mattered with my current style of combat.

I headed upstairs, and together we began to peruse the rest of the Cherry Blossom market. We went from stall to stall, looking at various foodstuffs and snacks, leafing through articles of clothing and examining all sorts of other knickknacks.

I was quietly chewing on a hotdog that had looked vaguely appetizing. The mustard sauce drowned out the taste of the synthetic meat, which was probably for the best. Meanwhile Rebecca was taking swigs out of a bottle of beer. "Got any gigs lately? A side hustle?" She asked, after I paid for a can of Nicola.

"Only recently. Maelstrom doing one of their fucked-up AI summonings." As far as I could tell, the jury was out on whether or not they actually worked, though I faintly remembered a particularly spooky cyberpsycho attack at the ground zero of one of their attempts from the game, so maybe there was something to it all.

"Uh huh. Sounds interesting." Her tone was neutral, and she took another swig.

"It actually kinda was." I admitted. "I dug through their agents afterwards and there was some spooky shit on it. When they call people sheep, I don't think they're just talking about them being cowards, I think there's a whole sacrificial lamb thing going on. And apparently fate has cables, rather than strings, according to them." It was fascinating stuff to me, seeing how cyberware was apparently affecting religion of all things.

"Okay, sure… how many guys were there again?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Six." Maybe it was a significant number, come to think of it. Like the number of the beast. "Why?"

"Just thinking, you woulda been in trouble if you'd missed even a few shots, right? Seems like you could use some backup~" She sang, waggling her finger at me.

I really didn't, but it was clear what she was actually getting at. "I'd be happy to, it's just that I haven't found a particularly big job yet. Something the both of us can earn a decent amount off of."

She shrugged. "Chump change is part and parcel of hustles and gigs. No risk, no reward, right?" She tossed the empty bottle off to the side, where it broke against the side of a bin rather than falling in. "It's just the kind of thing you do when you got a week free while the crew's still healing from gunshots."

"I guess." I couldn't help but feel hesitant, I didn't particularly want to be seen when adrenaline was doing all the thinking for me. "If I find something good, I'll tell you, okay?"

She mumbled something, folding her arms. I took that as a yes and prepared to move on, but a brief feeling of cold lightning up my spine broke my train of thought and my head snapped up. What was it?

A flex of will to [Sorairo Days] caused orange outlines to appear in the vision of my cybereye, highlighting a man leaning against a wall. He had a green mohawk, an arm covered with tattoos and a menpo mask styled after an oni. Tyger Claw fashion. And he had friends with him, too, judging by the dots on the map I pulled up.

"Hey, Becca? Can we get outta here? I think we've checked out everything we want to, right?" I offered, tapping her on the shoulder as I turned my head, though my eyes remained locked squarely on the man across the market.

"Really? But it's so early! And I haven't even had a bite to eat yet!" Rebecca complained, "Seriously, I know a great noodle place just a little bit away." She said, pointing at a hole-in-the-wall shop three feet to the man's right.

"There's a Tyger Claw right there." I hissed. "I'll buy you something, but let's just do it somewhere else, okay?"

"Don't worry~ me and Wakako? We got an understanding." She thumped her chest. "She comes to my crew with all kinds of work."

I was pretty aware of the person she was talking about. The most powerful Fixer in Westbrook, a woman with nine sons and five dead husbands, who was intertwined with the Tyger Claws in a way that I didn't have the time to mull over right now. "Yeah, sure, okay, but can we go somewhere else anyways? I got a bad feeling about this." I looked back to the Tyger Claw and- shit! We made eye contact, and the man got off the wall, casually striding towards us.

"Awww. Is the big bad Solo scared of a liddle racketeer?" She had a shit-eating grin on her face that was steadily widening as the gap between us and the Tyger Claw closed.

"I'd just rather not end this night with a gunfight." I said, grabbing her hand. "C'mon. Let's go."

"Fiiine." She let herself be pulled along. I felt the faint sense of cold still brushing along my spine as I powerwalked, Rebecca having to jog to keep up with my long stride. I heard what was probably the man yell something in Japanese, and I sped up, ducking behind a stall for cover.

We quickly made our way out into the open street, and I hazarded a glance back, and I swore as the man suddenly blurred, his form bouncing from step to step. Of fucking course he was chipped. I didn't even think before dropping my food, hurling Rebecca over my shoulder and booking it, ignoring the translated japanese being fed to me by my cyberaudio demanding that I stop.

"Ugh, if I shoot this guy, will you slow down? I think I'm going to be sick." I heard Rebecca say faintly.

"Just hold on for a few seconds!" I called back. Street-level Sandevistans rarely functioned for long, just a few seconds until they had to stop and defragment, and rarely did they accelerate the user faster than twice their normal speed. I could probably outrun him endurance-wise, I just had to not slow down in the slightest.

I turned around the corner, and swore even more as I saw three motorcycles and their tattooed owners up ahead. I kept running, but the yelling behind us caused the three to turn around. A man with a studded bat held his hand up, but I refused to slow down, instead barreling forward.

"Oi, oi! What the hell do you think you're doing!" He demanded, his Japanese being translated into English after a few moments. Behind him, a woman thumbing the side of a tanto and a man with a plastic visor drew a strange looking pistol. I didn't even think about it. I flicked my wrist forward, hurling the jagged orange wires of [Sorairo Days] at the gun, before yanking it out of his hand and into mine. Yoink.

There was more shouting as I kept fucking booking it. The woman with the tanto and the man with the bat tried to step into my way, but I kept a careful eye on them with [Reflex], waiting for them to commit to a step as before juking around them, raising the gun up to deflect an hurried swing of the tanto.

I raced past them and up some stairs, tucking my new gun into my pocket as I took a glance back, seeing only the man with the Sandevistan keeping up. He was closer than before. Too close. I snapped my fingers and had [Sorairo Days] snap into existence to act as a tripwire. I winced as he went down, his plastic menpo mask shattering against the stairs. He curled up into a ball as he slid down a few more steps, bouncing all the way. Ouch.

Feeling confident that the chase was over, I slowed and set Rebecca down again, heaving out a sigh as I shook my head. "Fuckin' Claws."

Rebecca held up a finger as she held a fist to her mouth. After she was satisfied that nothing would happen, she turned to me. "You got a bounty from them too?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

I shook my head. "Nah. Just don't fucking trust them. Simple as." They reminded me of the Triads and the Yakuza back home, but with vastly fewer pretensions of style and class. Not to mention that they were deeply intertwined with the nightlife of Night City. That meant gambling, drinks, and of course, sex work, and if the shit that went on in back home was any indication, what happened with that in Night City would curdle my soul.

She shrugged, adjusting her jacket. "Probably made things worse by running, y'know. Show fear like that and people are gonna chase you down as a matter of principle."

I wanted to argue that her being here was the only reason I had to show fear, but I shot that idea in the head and buried it. "Live and learn." I grumbled. "So what now? Want to go somewhere else? 'Cause I'm not going to lie, I think I've had enough of night markets for the day."

She perked up with a grin. "Oh, I know just where we can cap off the night!"

----------------------------------------

I quietly stared at the very, very pink motel Rebecca had brought me to. I took in the neon hearts, feminine silhouettes and 'X's plastered all over the front, and I waited for my brain to stop short circuiting as conflicting thoughts slammed into each other again and again.

…She had to know what this looked like, right? She had to. This was definitely some sort of signal. Even I wasn't this dense.

Unless this was another shred of the "Fuck her, kill him, eat this" vibe the city had in spades covering a quality business, but it couldn't be, right? I shot her a look that demanded answers, which she returned with a perfectly innocent expression.

I jabbed a finger at the place. "Here?" I demanded. My teeth were bared, but I wasn't smiling. It was more of an 'are you messing with me' look of confusion and anguish.

Rebecca's grin was wide and shit-eating. "They have very comfortable beds."

I quietly put my hands in my pockets as Rebecca practically skipped in, and reflected on my decisions. Maybe, just maybe… it wasn't too late to go back and make amends with the Tyger Claws.

…

Aw, who the hell was I kidding. If I left now... I didn't even want to think about what would happen if I turned tail. I shook my head, and I stepped forwards into the Lion's Den.