The next Morning saw the Salvage Team efforts fulfilled, 30,000 NBs rolled into my account.

Also I became 63481 Exp richer. I had planned out a few different paths, but I ended up deciding on a general approach for this world.

I started by raising Class and Race levels to 5, for 8000 Exp, and as the sweet strength flowed into me, I got more welcome news.

[ You have gained ability A Drop of Honey I ]

Now what could that do? Create Honey? Why would that be useful? I mean other than to make mead.

[ You have gained trait Heart of Truth I ]

Ah, and there it is. My fae blood, biting me in the ass. Now telling lies would be impossible, probably.

"I perceive the sky as Gre..." Pain, blinding and crippling, an eternity or seconds later, I could speak again, "Really looks more brown to me, at least at this moment."

I picked myself up. I'd been writhing on the floor. I took a moment to tidy up. Lies are bad. Okay. Don't. Tell. Lies.

Shit more incentive to keep my mouth shut. As if I wasn't already trying for more quiet type protagonist over here.

I sighed.

I brought Comp Sci and Hacking both up to VI. ISL Smithing up to V, and then got V.I. Smithing, which cost triple, and raised it to V. For the low sum of 14400 Exp.

New ideas and knowledge coursed through my meatbrain, and no the difference between mobs and V.I. wasn't just one of scale, it was like a whole different architecture. Fascinating.

Bladed Weapons to V and another two new skills, Stealth and Electronic Security Bypassing both were more specific so cost double. Another 7800 Exp.

I needed to up my infiltration game, I had a feeling the Corp assholes weren't going to leave it alone, and at some point I'd be raiding Hanabi Corp. One of the big 5.

Also, time to crank up some abilities. Perfect Soil, Tame and Call Beast and Plant Growth up to V. Since it worked so well last time, Fade up to V. 36500 Exp.

Only 5881 Character Exp. left. Whoo.

It didn't matter, more would be coming. there were always more rust brains to null.

I was trying out A Drop of Honey. One point of mana burned made one ounce of a thick rich golden honey. Taste that mana flavor, Delicious! I'd probably shank someone for this stuff. I was so gonna make mead out of this.

As I was finishing that first ounce off, A loud knocking started at my door.

A faint voice came through, "Hey, open up, I gotta know what that smell is. Come on! Please!"

Yeah, no. I decided to ignore it. Over the next ten minutes dozen of people came to my door clamoring for whatever it was they smelled.

I had a literal honey trap. Heh. Or honey bait, really. I was not amused by the Guide's little joke.

How terrible would that be at higher ranks. Would the honey itself become addictive? I already wanted more myself. Nope, not good. That's a dark path to follow. Even if the honey itself was beneficial, which it seemed to be.

Maybe when I could control it better. If I could.

Time to call up Saul and set some things in motion.

"Saul, I need you to to start looking for some land for me out in the wastes, needs some kind of building on it, but it doesn't matter what type. Needs water. Other than that I'm flexible." I figured it was time to start looking into a base, I really wanted a safe quiet place to try to renew the land.

"I'll keep an ear out, search with a few contacts. In the meantime, I have a big target. 1,000,000 NBs bounty job. Client wants his head brought back." Saul laid it out calm and cool. Seemed off though.

"What's the catch?" It was always something.

"Target ran into the underworks, with a team of Junkers. Second part is if you agree, you go in with a team. No exception for the Under. " Saul put an apologetic expression on his mug. "I got two lined up, A Cutter and a Botter. Both have been around the ARC and work well together. They just need a Heavy." That's more than just something.

A cutter is usually a Data Smith that specializes in infiltration and assassination, get in, compromise security, use the internal workings to eliminate the target, get out.

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A Botter uses their ISLC to command and control bots and drones. They tend to be their own little army.

The Underworks are the mazes of tunnels and service paths under the city, densest under the ARCs, but spreading out under everything. It was considered hands down the most dangerous place in the city. Though I remember some lore saying there were safe places, maybe even little towns down there in the Deeps. That's was just a rumor though. I think.

"Alright. Set up a meet and greet. I'm not going if we don't mesh." Probably won't, but eh it's worth a shot. I've seen how being a gung-ho lone wolf could be trouble. Hopefully, they can see past my curmudgeonness.

"Ahead of you. They'll be at Lucy's tonight. Melt (Party, Schmooze) with them. See how it goes. If all's gleam, hit the Underworks tomorrow." Saul grinned, he knew some thing he wasn't sayin'. "I don't think you'll have any crack ups."

I shrug. "I'll be there."

I geared up, even strapped up the Kraken. Figured my maybe teammates, needed to see what they were getting.

Lucy's was a VIP Lounge and Pleasure House catering to all types. If you can think of it it was probably going on somewhere in there, thankfully, usually in one of the many rooms away from the public eye.

The Decor was Late Past Post Modern Fuck. It said so, right on the sign at the front door. Along with the prices and services. Woo. I loved the word fuck, but maybe it was used a bit too much. I lost count at about 600 times.

The pinks and purples, were eye breaking. cut by some softer blues and black here and there. LED style lighting on or in everything. I was blessing the filters on my helmet for allowing me to keep my sanity.

As if I had any left.

The music was trying to fuck my ears. Hard and fast. It was bumpin', I could groove. Haha.

I had to admit some of the crazy shit people get up to in the future was too extreme for me. Give people the ability to modify themselves and someone's going to take it way, way too far.

I mean, that dude other there had twenty Penises grafted to his body. And those gals were talking about their recent Head sex, I mean I've told plenty of people I was going to skullfuck them, but to literally do it? Why would you need or want that?

Eh, whatever, I fell back into the survival techniques of angst and apathy I learned back in the 1990's. You do you. Ain't none of my business. Just maybe keep it over there where I can ignore it.

Or I could just not go into Pleasure Houses. Yeah, let's do that going forward. I hadn't even gotten to freaky stuff yet, and I was searching for some brain bleach.

Feel my old man energy. Imagine how strong it would be in 500 years. Never mind further out.

The dancing on the other hand just looked like twitching and spasming, with occasional bouts of actual rhythmic movement, so basically every club or dance party I've ever been to. Heh.

It was packed, and I think that was making me more grouchy than the weird things people were doing. Honestly, what other people do doesn't concern me, unless I was surrounded. Like now.

I stoically, yeah right, plowed my way through the masses to the bar. A hive of activity.

They had 10 bartenders slinging booze, and a couple dozen barbacks keeping everything stocked up. Business was good. Made me miss my ideas to start my own bar, albeit, less frantic than this place.

I ordered a whiskey neat. Irish if they had it, which they didn't. Old, which they did. Rich and smoky, just the right amount of burn. A good sippin' whiskey.

A part of my mind kept arguing to put a Drop of Honey in it, but I shut that down quick. Too many people, I'd get mobbed. The utter chaos might be hilarious though. Maybe another day.

"Hey are you Victor?" I heard faintly from behind me.

She was tiny and her Metal was subtle, at least by the standards of place.

Maybe 4'5" or 4'6". Slightly glowing blue fiber hair, almost real looking. MetEyes dancing between green and gray. Pointy vulpine features. Skin an odd shade of light grey. Attire tight, but tactical. Think Brown Widow.

"Yes. That's me. Let me guess, Saul said look for the big guy." Some of the Fulms were quite large, but I still had 'em beat.

She laughed. "He also said, scary. Big and scary."

She was eyein' my tools. No, not that one. "We've a table over there," gesturing to the corner, "Let's talk crank (Business)."

I ordered another whiskey and followed her over. I left a nice tip with the Bartender.

At the table was another lady, this one dressed in the Corp fashion. Business is War after all, or so they say. Coal black hair, and Eurasian features. Bright Gold MetEyes. Her Metal was a little more obvious than her partner's but still more subtle than most folks.

"Hello I'm Patricia, you've met Yumi." She inclined her head to me, Towertop fashion. "I'll say you look the part..." she trailed off

"Victor, of no particular note. But I get the job done." All true from my perspective.

Patricia just stared, she was cold, I bet she was the Botter, I could see her ordering minions about.

"Aww, come on, Victor, we've seen the aftermath of a couple of your jobs. Gleam work on that Wagon yesterday! That's the kind of Fire we lack. Oh, and Zerk speaks highly of you, for a Derpy meatbrain." Yumi exclaimed. I detected a hint of thrill seeker there. But who was...Oh right, Zerk was Joshua's ISL handle. I'd almost forgotten.

"Yes, and you have some impressive biomods, Victor. What company tinkered your genes?" Patricia seemed a little too eager, leaning into the question.

"No idea the company, I came to like this one day." Technically true, no company had modded me. Heh, this was kind of fun, playing with the truth. I'm starting to see why those Sidhe pricks like their word games.

"Hmm, so illicit modding experimentation. Have you reported it?" Patricia was digging but it wasn't too bad, she was just feeling me out. So far.

"No, would you? With no information about what happened or how? Probably would lock me up for wasting their time." Questions always get some leeway, and well cops always hate it when people jerk them around.

"Straight(Truth). I'd rather not deal with BWPD." Yumi was nodding along, but she was watching the crowd, keeping an eye out for trouble. Good.

"Well, I have to say Victor, I'm interested, but would you take off the Helmet? You seem like an enhanced bot with it on. Also, I like knowing the faces of my coworkers." Patricia certainly was good at pushing buttons. I wonder what bots she ran, tends to speak towards the personality of the botter.

"For just a moment." I pulled the Helm off, counted to 30 and put it back on. "What?"

They were stunned. I mean sure, I was good looking, but not that good. I didn't quite have the ethereal beauty of the Fae-Born, yet. Likely, the Giantkin balancing it out.

"No Metal at all." Whispered Yumi. "I didn't believe it." Oh, right, kind of like seeing a unicorn. Hmm, wonder how the legends of those are going to play out. Eh, later Victor.

"That is highly unusual." Patricia gave off a sad vibe, for a second, "How do you get by, day to day."

"ICBD, suped up to do some low grade smithing. Me and Metal don't mesh well. Had to adapt." Yup, life is hard without Metal. Hell, they Tinker up infants with ISLCs. I shuddered internally, raised with the Corps and Govs in your head, twenty four-seven. Fuckin' terrifying.

" I say we give it a go, together." Yumi tapped the table with her finger. A nervous habit?

"I have no objection." Patricia actually relaxed, suddenly losing that veneer of severity. "We'll meet up tomorrow at noon, bring extra ammo and gear Victor, I have a Mule drone for supplies."

I gave her a thumbs up. Finishing my second whiskey.

"Let's party." Yumi bounced up to hit the dance floor. To my surprise so did Patricia.

At one point they even convinced me to dance, and with my Alfar grace I wasn't bad at it. I felt awkward though, I've never been great with parties, but I needed to learn. I planned to have a lot more fun in the future.