Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

May 19th, 2075. 

Night City, CA. 

2:44 pm PST.

7 months before a certain car accident.

Adrian Walker was not special. Unlike most others in the city, he was perfectly okay with that. He had come to terms with his lot in life pretty early, and although he wanted more than what he had, he didn’t want it so badly that he would kill for it. He was only eighteen, barely going on nineteen, freshly out of the shithole known as gang debt and ready start bringing home more money than the scarps that he could pull together from when his handler had been feeling ‘generous.’

Of course, these facts weren’t helping him with his current situation: trying not to get punched in the face because of what was clearly a misunderstanding.

“Seriously dude, I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” Adrian said to the larger boy in front of him, hands raised in a show of what he hoped was taken as peaceful intent. “I’m not the guy people go to for BDs of any kind. Not my scene.”

The large boy - Grant, he thought his name was - tried to shove Adrian again, and the young man let himself be pushed back. “I know ya took it! You’re the one with quick hands - gotta be you!”

“Just because I happen to be dexterous doesn’t mean I stole whatever got taken. Look, I don’t know what you were expecting, but shit gets taken from people all the time. If you left it somewhere, it’s your own damn fault it got klepped. I really am sorry, but I’ve got somewhere to be.”

That was when Grant sucker-punched him. In the gut, thankfully, but it was still sudden enough that Adrian hadn’t seen it coming. All the air in his lungs was forced out as he took the hit, folding into the boy’s meaty fist before he pulled back, Adrian collapsing to his knees as he tried to regain some wind in his lungs. And, of course, Grant started gloating.

Adrian didn’t hear any of the bullshit he spewed. The ringing in his ears was far louder than the boy’s nasally voice. Eventually, he managed to get in a proper breath, and brought the scent of trash and granite to his nose.

He glanced towards the boy’s legs, noting that he was entirely exposed and relaxed, as though he thought that he was defeated. So Adrian decided to to what anyone sensible would do in a street fight. Go right for the jewels.

His fist came up and crashed into the boy’s goin, causing an audible release of air and a low groan of pain. Adrian pulled back his fist and hit him again in the same spot, not wanting to allow him even an iota of recovery. Grant slumped to the ground from the pain, a puddle dirtying his face as Adrian got to his feet and kicked the bastard in his sizable gut.

“Asshole,” Adrain said, rubbing at his own gut before he kicked Grant again. That done, he walked away, hoping that his bruising would settle before he got home. It probably wouldn’t, but he could hope, couldn’t he?

“Mom’s gonna kill me…” he said to himself, managing somehow not to wince with every step as he came to his home several minutes later, regretting even bothering to stop for that dense gonkhead. Sometimes, people just couldn’t be reasoned with, despite your best efforts.

Adrian’s home was a small thing on the southern edge of Northside, with square walls and square… well, just about everything. Hardly enough room for one person, let alone the three person family that lived there, but they made it work. Somehow. Adrian almost preferred their old spot in the megacomplex, but that place had been small in a different way. A one person apartment shared by three people did not make for a great living experience. Especially since there were basically no doors.

Still, while it was a pretty crummy living situation, it was better than homelessness. Adrian opened the door with a groaning squeal- they really needed to oil this thing - and threw his jacket onto one of the pegs in the entryway.

“I’m home,” he called out, walking through their nearly barren home and checking if his sister was there. Maya was slumped against the couch, dark hair covering much of her face as she watched TV after a long day of work. “How was school?”

“Oh, y’know, the usual bullshit with petty girls trying to spread rumors and boys trying to hit me up when they knew damn well I ain’t interested.”

“So the usual?” Adrian asked as he sat. 

“Pretty much,” Maya said with the shrug, her loose, more comfortable clothes suggesting that she had no plans of doing anything for the foreseeable future. And frankly, neither did Adrian. He had finally gotten out of that gang he’d fallen in with without any bullshit clauses or favors or anything underhanded. If those assholes wanted him back, they would have to drag him kicking and screaming - and he damn sure wasn’t going to make it that easy. Not by a long shot. 

“Hey, can I borrow your iron?”

Adrian tensed at the mention of his firearm. Though he had been a pretty good student, and on track to be a technician, he had dropped out of school to help their mother bring in more cash and to ensure that she didn’t have to pay for more than one child’s education. That had incidentally led into his getting involved with said gang he was now - thankfully - estranged from.

“Sold it,” he admitted. Adrian had rarely been forced to use his flimsy pistol, and only as a deterrent rather than a means of self defense, but he was a good shot. He didn’t think he would need it now, though. Or at least not one that was so cumbersome to use. 

“Why?”

“We needed the edds.”

“We always need edds.”

“Yeah. Which is why I sold it,” Adrian said, looking at his sister with a bit of concern. “Is something happening at school?”

“… no. No, it’s nothing,”

Given the way she was avoiding answering the question it clearly wasn’t just nothing. But it was clear to Adrian that this wasn’t something that she was just going to tell him because he asked. 

“… alright,” he said, acquiescing to her denial. “Well, if you’re going to get your own iron, I’ll at least show you the basics.”

Maya looked at him with genuine surprise, her gunmetal grey eyes lighting up in excitement. “Seriously?!”

“On two conditions,” he clarified. “First off, you’re not getting any iron of your own until I give you an okay. I might not be a master marksman, but my sister is damn well gonna know which end not to point at herself.”

Maya nodded rather animatedly, a smile clear in her eyes if not on her face. 

“And two… no tech or smart pistols. We’re going to be using old fashioned firearms for your training.”

She visibly deflated at that. “Aww, c’mon…”

“No buts,” Adrian said with a shake of his head. “You’re not going to learn any of the basics if you use those two types as a crutch. Especially smart pistols. Fucking cheap ass pieces of junk, rewarding laziness…”

“Smart pistols ain’t cheap, bro.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it!”

The two continued like this on various subjects for almost an hour, talking about everything and nothing as they spoke about what qualities made for the best kind of gun to Maya’s latest killstreak in one of the games she always loved to play. Personally, Adrian was more a fan of story-driven stuff from back in the early twenty twenties, but those had fallen almost entirely out of fashion. The only reason he had that kind of stuff was because of his dad’s collection, and… well, he was gone now.

As their conversation continued well on into the night, the front door opened and shut, letting in their mother. Willow was a tall woman, and her children shared that trait, Adrian being the tallest at nearly six feet. Coal black hair was done up in a practical ponytail, matching her delivery driver’s uniform well. Her skin was fair, but worn with the hustle and bustle of city life and a demanding job. The only feature that she didn’t share with her children was her eyes, which were both a rich, dark brown, almost black in their coloration. 

“Hey mom,” Adrian said. He noted that she seemed a lot more tired than usual. It wasn’t entirely out of the field possibility that she’d worked a really long shift, but those bags under her eyes were a lot deeper than he was used to seeing. Not to mention the fact that she was clearly holding something in her jacket, even if she was trying to hide it. “You okay?”

Her son’s voice seemed to snap her out of it, and she smiled at her kids as she tried to wave away their worries. “I’m okay, just tired. Been a long day, y’know?”

“Yeah,” Adrian said, looking at the clock. It was just past six now, which was a little late, since her shifts usually ended around five. “You get some sleep and I’ll try to put something together.”

“Sure, sure… thank you, Adi,” Willow said almost absentmindedly, using a nickname she had given him during his childhood, when dad had still been around. Adrian didn’t comment on it, letting the pang of a missed childhood go as he moved to make some food out of what they had left in the fridge.

As was typical of most households, they didn’t have a lot of food. Realfood was a luxury that they’d never been able to afford, and too much of their diet consisted of kibble. Tonight, however, they had enough SCOP and synth-ingredients to make something half decent, and Adrian gladly got to work. 

Adrian was considered the chef of the Walker household mostly by circumstance, and he had done the best with what he had to work with, which was typically less than nothing. Still, he started putting a bunch of synth-noodles to a boil, taking out a pan to spice and fry up the SCOP before he added some proper sauce to the mix. Salt and pepper made up most of their spice cabinet, but they still had some garlic powder and basil to add to it. After that, it was a matter of waiting, timing, and making sure nothing burned.

You’d think that the rest of Adrian’s family would have some practice at this, but his mother could literally burn water and Maya wasn’t particularly interested in food prep outside of ramen. She was a coding and net wiz, but she was honestly terrible at self-care.

About an hour later, dinner was ready, and Adrian made bowls for himself, Maya and their mother. She still wasn’t down yet, so he covered the bowl to preserve the temperature as he and Maya ate in tentative silence.

“… is mom okay?” Maya asked, concern clear in her voice. She had probably seen how tired she had looked, though she didn’t mention anything about what she had under her jacket. 

“I don’t really know,” Adrain admitted. She had been gone a lot more lately. Still, hopefully he would be able to take some of the burden off of her now. He hadn’t been able to search for a proper job because of those stupid gang obligations, but now that it was over, he could move on to different things and finally start really helping her. “But I think she does need sleep, so let’s try not to disturb her.”

“… okay,” Maya said, looking down at her food as she continued to eat. After that, it didn’t take long for them to finish up. Figuring that their mom probably wasn’t going to come and eat anytime soon, Adrian took her covered bowl and a fort over to her room. When he got there, he gently knocked on the door, unwilling to wake her if she was too deep in her sleep. When there was no response, Adrian opened the door just a crack, enough to see into the room. 

Her room was like the one that he and Maya shared to this day; small, square, barely enough room to move around in with hardly enough room to fit her bed. On said bed, not even bothering to get out of her uniform or cover herself with her sheets, was their mother, snoring away after a long day of work. She wasn’t likely to wake up for a while. 

“Hey, mom,” Adrian said, his voice hushed as he made his way to her bedside. He placed the bowl of spaghetti on her night stand quietly, smiling as he looked at her sleeping form. “Hope you like it. Get some rest.”

He turned, intent on leaving the room, when something on his mother’s dresser caught his eye. It was a case, black and featureless save for the seam, handle and locks. It looked like a gun case. But his mom hated guns. Hated them like nothing else he had ever seen. 

So why the hell does she have one here?

Adrian felt like an idiot and an asshole. He had just assumed that his mother was tired, that she had been working too long and that nothing else had been amiss. That had been a mistake. They lived in Night City, after all. Fucked up shit happened every single day. Most of it went unreported, save for the daily death count updates. He didn’t want to contemplate just how many of those were suicides.

Unable to do anything else, and unwilling to wake his mom from the peace of sleep, Adrian took the case off of her dresser quietly and shut the door with a soft click. He listened at the door to see if she was awake, but she continued her slumber undisturbed. Adrian sighed in relief, tapping lightly on his personal link in his left wrist, unable to help the nervous tick.

Quietly, he looked at where Maya currently was in the house. She was watching TV once again, doomscrolling through channels with a bored look on her face. He knew that she would be at this for hours, if things kept up like they were, so he took the opportunity to slip into their shared room while she was occupied.

Adrian put the case on his bed, crossing his arms as he glared at the case, as though it had personally offended or insulted him. He searched for any kind of identifiers at all, but nothing jumped out to him. Maybe it was subtler than something that he could seen on the case, or maybe it was unmarked for less than legal reasons. No matter how he sliced it, he needed to get rid of this thing, and soon. 

Still, he probably wouldn’t be able to sneak it out in it’s case. His mom might’ve been able to do that - in hindsight it was obvious, but most things were like that - but Adrian certainly had no experience in sneaking something that large out of anywhere undetected. Even if his sister was distracted and his mother was asleep, they might see him with the case and then ask questions. Better to sneak whatever this was out in his waistband. He at least had some experience with that, given his recently sold iron.

He undid the latches on the case, noting that, while it was dark and matte like plastic, the casing was mode wholly of metal. It reflected no light, as though whatever was held in this case should stay there. Adrian was almost tempted to keep it. But he remembered who’d brought it here, and his genuine concerns for her wellbeing. Sighing in disappointment at his own greed, he opened the case fully.

His eyes had never gone so wide so fast.

The weapon was sleek and elegant, with a long barrel made of flawless titanium that led to a wide muzzle, indicating that the weapon was chambered for a much higher caliber than any standard handgun. The handle was black and smooth, made slightly textured for ease of handling, the magazine placed just in front of the trigger, with width of it giving credence to his assumption of higher caliber ammunition. And along the barrel was engraved a single word in blocky, capital letters. A word that was only associated with the best of the best firearms, even though the manufacturer wasn’t as active anymore. 

MALORIAN. To be specific, the Malorian Arms 3516. One of only a few hundred that had ever been made.

Adrian couldn’t believe it. He had seen a few variations of this model of gun over the years in pictures, but this was unprecedented. He couldn’t tell which version of the legendary firearm this one was - his mind was way too excited for specifics. He knew it wasn’t Johny Silverhand’s personal Malorian - they weren’t so fortunate to have something like that just fall into their laps. Plus, the models were quite different, this one being far too sleek to match up to the bulkier firearm that the Rockerboy had kept on him at all times.

He thought he understood, then. His mother hadn’t purchased a gun to kill herself - far from it. She was going to sell it to someone. That was the only reasonable explanation. Why else would she have it? Given the rarity of it’s model nowadays, it was probably worth millions, at the very least!

“We need to hide this,” he whispered to himself, the gravity of what he held finally dawning on him. If their mom could sell this, it could be their ticket to a half decent life. Perhaps not on the level of a corpo, but something modestly comfortable, right?

Then another thought occurred to Adrian. A much more dangerous, but necessary one. Who the hell had their mom taken it from? And how had she gotten her hands on it in the first place?

Those thoughts immediately fled his mind when he heard cars pulling up to their home just outside. Judging by the low hum or the engines that he could barely hear, they were corpo vehicles. Shit. Someone had come looking for it. No one had ever visited their home, and he knew the sound of corpo cars well. Adrian looked over the Malorian quickly, trying to see if there was some kind of tracker on it, but found nothing. When he looked at the casing, his eye caught something just at the edge, almost invisible if it weren’t for the relative dimness of his room. A red light, so small and so faint that he almost hadn’t been able to see it even in the relative darkness of the room, blinked on the edge of the case.

Adrian pushed the case away, unwilling to let them find it and dispose of them afterwards. He might be content with being no one to this city, but he wasn’t about to give the corpos an open ticket to shoot them either. Instead, he immediately went to his hidden spot in the wall, sliding the thick case out and stuffing the gun in with the rest of the things he and Maya had kept hidden from their mother over the years. The siblings had found it when they’d first moved in, a place so hidden that not even their mom had been able to find it. He wasn’t sure what kind of equipment the corpos had brought, but he just hoped they wouldn’t be able to find this hiding spot. It was the best he could do on short notice.

Their front door was quickly opened by force with a loud slam, and Adrian barely managed to stumble out of his room before they were in the hallway. Arasaka private security quickly rounded the corner, and Adrian’s stomach dropped. They were dressed in sleek suits rather than body armor, with SMGs and handguns among their armaments rather than assault rifles. Which probably meant that, compared to other units, they were under equipped and likely wouldn’t have access to more advanced gear to search the house. Still, Arasaka was one of Militech’s main competitors for a very good reason, and Adrian was quickly manhandled into the living room of his home alongside his startled and terrified little sister and his rapidly waking mother. 

The three of them had been pushed to their knees, hands behind their head as the rest of the team searched the house. Adrian’s heartbeat was in his ears, the rapid tattoo of it overwhelming everything else as he fought to remain calm. Whether for seconds or for minutes, he stayed like that, on the edge of panic, trying to think of something that would keep his mom and sister safe while the team combed through their home.

“Where is the gun?”

A man asked the question. His voice was deep and dignified, as one would expect from an Arasaka suit. Adrian didn’t look up at him, nor did Maya or his mom. Silence greeted his question for several seconds as fear made the tension in the air almost palpable.

“I do hate repeating myself, and I simply do not have all night,” the man said, seemingly bored with the whole situation. “Where is the gun? Quickly now.”

“Sir,” one of the men said. Adrian glanced in that direction, noticing that he’d come back with the gun case that he’d left in his and Maya’s room. They hadn’t found the pistol, but depending on their goals here, that might’ve just made things unintentionally worse for them.

“There’s no use in denying it anymore,” the man continued, his fine shoes clacking against their rough floors in a way that Adrian found strange and intimidating. “It’s here. We know it. You know it. So save yourselves some pain and simply tell us where it’s hidden.”

Again, silence. Maya clearly didn’t know what the man was talking about, and their mom was as silent as the grave, unable to answer because of Adrian’s interference. As to the aforementioned young man, he was thinking through the specifics of how the man was speaking. If he truly knew what he was looking for, he would’ve specified it, at least in this case. One did not refer to a Malorian 3516 as something so simple as a mere ‘gun.’ It was a rare commodity even among corpos.

Still, that didn’t help with their current predicament, which was rapidly worsening by the minute. If Adrian didn’t speak up soon, they were all going to die. So, with his heart clenched in a vice, Adrian started to give in. That gun, despite the opportunity it represented, wasn’t worth the lives of his sister and mother.

And then the man spoke again, a cruel humor in his voice, and crushed Adrian’s hopes in a single fell swoop.

“Or perhaps…” the man said, the smile audible in his tone. “The home was already destroyed before we arrived. A tragic thing, really - a malfunction with the breaker box caused a blaze that no one detected until it was already too late. The family, trapped within, burned alive until nothing remained but their charred corpses.”

“Sir,” one of the men said. “Williams will have questions.”

“Of course he will,” the one in charge replied. “But the loss of this weapon, however sentimental he claims it to be, will be an embarrassment for him if made public. That gives us leverage. Save your ammunition; any more than a few bullets worth of gunpowder can be traced even through the worst kind of destruction.”

They were casually discussing burning Adrian and his entire family alive in their home. Panic gripped at his heart as a desperate, almost animalistic will fought against his better judgement. This couldn’t be happening - it shouldn’t be happening! They were supposed to be fine! They were supposed to not get involved in corpo schemes or gang politics - hall, he had just gotten out of that bullshit less than eight hours ago!

Adrian Walker had become a victim of his own hopes. Believing them so completely that he had forgotten where exactly where he lived. Night City was not a place where one could live a long, peaceful life. Not without sacrifice. Still, he had wanted to hope, just for a minute, that his family might be an exception to the cruel rule of this reality.

So focused was he on his mounting terror that he almost missed his mother’s movement. With a lightning fast speed that belied her tired appearance, she managed to get one of the pistols out of the holster of one of the men that had broken into their home. She fired the weapon at it’s former owner, once in the chest and once in the head, the shots so close together and so expertly done that she almost reminded him of a solider in that moment.

Adrian didn’t watch the rest of it, quickly diving to his right, shielding Maya with his body. Though none of the bullets were being fired in thier direction, he didn’t want to take the chance that his sister might get caught in the crossfire by accident. A second passed, the roar of gunfire filling the air. Another came and went, a grunt of pain audible to him in his mother’s tone of voice. A third came, and the sound of a single body hitting the floor rang out in oppressive silence.

He didn’t want to look. He knew what lay behind him, he did. There was no use in denying the truth of it. And yet, for several seconds, he just stared down at his sister, who in turn had her eyes screwed shut in terror, hands over her ears to block out the incessant gunfire. 

Gently pulling Maya’s head to his chest, Adrian slowly turned, afraid of what he would find there. He had not been mistaken in his fear. His mother lay in a heap, face down and gun tossed ten feet away in her fall. He couldn’t tell if she was breathing. But all those gunshots from all those men… it could only mean that she’d died.

“Damn it, you fools, what did I just say?!” the man said, angry now. He was tall and thing, but not in the manner that reminded Adrian of something weak. His lithe figure reminded him more of a spider than a man, the short, smooth gray hair on his head only adding to this mental image.

“My deepest apologies, Mr. Faraday,” one of the men said, bowing to him with his gun still smoking in his hand. “She surprised us.”

“She shouldn’t have had the chance!” he yelled at them. Sighing, he turned back to the siblings, and Adrian saw his face for the first time. The man’s face was sharp and angular, with evidence of cyberware lining his face. His features were just as bladelike, a bit too much so to be considered handsome. He was in his middle years, perhaps in his fifties, evidenced by the crow’s feet along his eyes if not the pallor of his hair. Said eyes completed Adrian’s mental image of this man as a spider.

One eye; his left, was a relatively normal brown that seemed almost yellow from his current angle, the narrowness of his eyelid suggesting that he might be Asian. His right, however, was not a single eye, but three stacked atop each other like building blocks. All three were red like freshly spilled blood. It made him seem as inhuman as the stories surrounding corpos proclaimed.

“No more mess,” he said coldly. “Knock them out. I’ll not have you wasting any more resources then you already have.”

Before Adrian could react, one of the men pistol whipped him hard in the back of the head, and he fell to the floor, unconscious.

“Adi! Adi wake -urgh! Wake up!”

Adrian heard a familiar voice at the edge of his hearing, the darkness of his unconsciousness fading as someone shook his shoulder with what felt like a weakening grip. He opened his eyes slowly, immediately noticing the intense heat against his skin, causing him to sweat. He groaned in discomfort as he tried to move away from it, but that same grip brought hm back against something hard - a wall, he thought. A wall whose texture he thought he recognized.

His eyes snapped open as he remembered everything that had happened. His home was on fire. It hadn’t consumed the whole structure, but it wasn’t a large space, and it was getting dangerously close to being consumed entirely. The sweltering heat made it difficult to focus on almost anything else.

His mother’s face came into view then, her skin seeming pale despite the fire all around them, as though she had lost a lot of blood. Glancing down at her torso, where she’d been shot, she had indeed lost blood. Though she had a bulletproof vest beneath her clothing - something that Adrian had never thought he’d see her wearing - blood was trickling out of wounds in her side and shoulder. Though the vest had absorbed many of the gunshots, it wasn’t total protection.

“Mom?” he asked, voice hazy and confused as he tried to make sense of everything. “Where’s Maya?”

“Next to you, Adi,” she said, glancing to his left where his sister laid slumped against the wall. She hadn’t woken up yet, and the heat was getting worse. With a pained breath, Willow Walker searched the floor with her right hand, the one that had managed to remain uninjured, until she latched onto what she was looking for, shoving it into Adrian’s hands. It was the Malorian. The one that he’d placed in the hiding place in the room he’d shared with his sister. The one that had summoned those Arasaka agents to their home in the first place.

“Mom?” he asked again, still confused.

“We were lucky,” his mother said, a wry smile on her lips. “The original owner never linked to this gun, just kept it as a trophy; a private status symbol. He only thought to place a tracker in the case and not on the weapon itself. You did good, hiding it as fast as you did.”

Adrian nodded dumbly, still not quite understanding what his mom was getting at. “But why… why would someone with that much money be so fucking stupid?”

“‘A lack of danger will dull a tiger’s instincts till they are little more than an overgrown kitten.’ The thought probably never crossed his mind.”

His mother slumped against the wall, breathing heavily as the blood loss continued to eat away at her life. Adrian guided her to her back, her breaths labored as she struggled for consciousness. She looked up at Adrian then, her brown eyes looking into his grey ones with a determined look on her face. Reaching to the back of her neck, she took something out of one of her neural slots - a Shard. It was the same as all of those datapieces, with the sole exception of it’s color. Gunmetal grey, with a line of black running through it like some strange design. It reminded him, rather startlingly, of the gun that his mother had just shoved into his hands.

 Using the last of her dwindling strength, his mother managed to slot that strange Shard into his neural port in turn, causing a bevy of information to dance across his vision for just a second. What he saw astonished him. Detailed schematics on this version of the Malorian, a datakey to some kind of smartlink, and speculations on what kind of modifications would best synchronize with the weapon. It was priceless. Hell, forget the gun itself - the schematics alone might be worth tens of millions, and that was if he lowballed it.

Then the moment passed, the information went dormant, and his mother’s hand fell from the back of his head. Adrian caught it, pulling her close as the light started to fade from her eyes. Her mouth moved, voice hoarse and low, like she could barely scrape them out of her mouth and speak them aloud.

“Take this… take… the Malorian… take… your sister… run… and…” 

Adrian couldn’t hear her last word. He leaned, down, trying to see if she was whispering it to him, even under than crackle and flare of the flame that surrounded them. Silence greeted him as her last breath grazed his cheek. He put a hand to her neck, searching for the artery in her neck, trying to find a pulse. Nothing. 

It took seconds that felt like hours for Adrian to realize what had just happened. His mother had died. Died in his arms. Her eyes had glazed over, and her passing was certain now. She was gone. And those last words - those words that might have been anything and everything - would forever remain unknown.

But he did know what she wanted him to do - what he needed to do right that moment. Protect Maya, and get out of this situation alive. Everything that came after that would come after.

Leaving his mother behind, burying the feeling of guilt and self-loathing at leaving her body to burn, he slipped his arm under his sister’s limp form, pulling her up as he put the hand holding the Malorian against his mouth to keep it clear of the smoke. He stepped away, leaving his mother to burn in the wreckage of what was once a small, but happy, home.

Luckily, Willow had thought to take them away from where the blaze was worst, towards the side of the house opposite the breaker. Unfortunately, there weren’t many windows, and the ones that had been there were either locked down or already ablaze. Their front door looked to be locked up and shut off, probably the work of those Arasaka corpos who’d come for them. It also didn’t help that the flames were starting to eat away at the frame.

He turned to the backdoor, unwilling to let this be the end. He wasn’t going to let Maya die here. It was metal, flush and sliding, just like the front door, and was similarly locked and shut off. Unlike their front door, however, the flames had not eat eaten into this one, though they were getting dangerously close.

Tucking the Malorian into his pants, Adrian reached out to the door and tried to open it by force. It didn’t budge. He tried again, pulling harder this time, putting his entire bodyweight into the motion. But again, nothing happened. The fact that Adrian wasn’t particularly muscular was a fact that was currently coming back to bite him in the ass. 

“Fucking hell; move you stupid fucking door!”

But despite his yells, and despite his efforts, nothing happened. Cursing under his breath, Adrian stepped back from the door as he felt the flames start to climb up it, keeping Maya’s head low so that she didn’t breathe in the rapidly building smoke. Shit. He wasn’t strong enough to open the door by force, but the fire had already taken all their other exits. There was no choice. He had to find a way through here, or he and Maya would both die.

Adrian pulled at the Malorian, taking in his right hand as he stared down at it. Gritting his teeth, he pointed the weapon at the door’s latch, prepared for the kick that was sure to come, and pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened.

One, twice, thrice more, Adrian pulled the trigger. All three times, nothing happened. He thought it might be something to do with the gun itself, but it was pristine. Like it had never been fired before. There had to be something else - another component to why the gun wasn’t firing.

Then, he remembered some of the information on the Shard that his mother had just placed in his neural port. The datakey to a smartlink. Sure, the technology had been relatively new back when this gun had been made, but what if…

Adrian franticly shifted his grip on the Malorian, so that the bottom of the handle faced towards him. Careful not to drop his sister, he ejected his personal link from his wrist and flipped the cap on the bottom of the Malorian’s handle. Since it was an older smartlink, people had been forced to use manual connections rather than the wireless ones that were used nowadays. 

That fact might have just saved their lives, Adrian jacking into the gun as he accessed the datakey for a manual bypass. Words crawled across his vision, and he smiled as they came.

Manual Link Detected.

Manual Neural Port Bypass in Progress…

Manual Neural Port Bypass Successful. Access Granted.

Malorian Arms 3516 Now Active.

Adrian practically cheered, stopping himself so that he didn’t breathe in any of the building smoke or the rapidly heating air. His personal link still jammed in the bottom of the gun, he let the cord come out to it’s full length as he aimed the pistol at the door latch. He fired.

A storm of agony raced up his arm as the pistol fired, the distinctive sound audible even through the roar of the flames all around them. Adrian screamed out in pain, the waves of it overwhelming him for several seconds before he gathered enough sense to look down at his hand. Bones had visibly broken all along his arm, starting in his hand and running up his arm. Though his shoulder hadn’t given out, he could still feel some kind of stress in the bone, like something had cracked, but not quite broken.

As he looked at the door, he almost yelled in frustration, His aim had been off by several inches, digging into the top of the doorframe rather than the latch that barred their freedom. Adrian groaned at his weakness. He had forgotten, in the heat of the moment, that 3516s were considered Borg weapons for a very good reason. Damnit! God fucking damnit! Just when he thought that things couldn’t get any worse, his own clumsiness just had to come and drive the nail in even harder. They weren’t getting out. They were going to die in here, and there was nothing that they could do about it.

And in that moment of terror, a cold came over Adrian. A calm that subsumed his thoughts, like ice crawling through his veins as he forced himself to focus. It wasn’t all lost. His sister was sill in his arms, and she was still breathing. The air would turn scorching soon, but he could still get out before it become too hot to breathe. And most importantly…

He was somehow still holding the Malorian in a death grip.

Letting that icy focus guide him, Adrian brought his hand up, not reacting to the pain that shot through his arm as he moved it up to aim it at the door. His breath left him as he fell into that ice, aimed at the latch, and fired once more.

The pain lanced through him again - worse this time. More of his bones had definitely broken, or were at least very badly cracked. Adrian didn’t cream out in pain this time, though. Instead, he let the ice and adrenaline carry him forward to the door, keeping his sister away from the doorframe as the fire started to eat into it.

When he put his hand against it, the door was as hot as a stove - perhaps even hotter. Adrian had no way to tell, and the ice let him ignore the pain for the most part. The pain of the searing burns would have deterred him before. It would have convinced him that he was doomed, that he and Maya were meant for the same fate as their mother. That it was meant for them.

The door gave a metallic scrape as he moved it, putting his shoulder and the right part of his face into the door when his arm turned out to not be enough on it’s own, broken and battered as it was. Burning continued up those parts of his skin, searing into him as he started to lose vision in his right eye. Damn. That was bad. But he was fine with losing the eye if it meant that he and Maya would get out of the building alive.

With a final push, he managed to get the backdoor open all the way. He stumbled out, dragging his little sister with him as their home blazed behind them. 

Adrian wasn’t sure how long he walked. It couldn’t have been for more than a minute, since the fire was still visible over his shoulder. But the ice was fading from his veins, and the pain made itself known in the most unbearable way.

Adrian collapsed, unable to carry himself any further, angling it so that his sister fell on top of him instead of to the hard ground beneath. He just… he couldn’t do it. He could not walk any further. The agony of his arm, and his eye… fuck, he had just lost an eye. Lost an eye and though nothing of it in the moment. And despite all of that, he knew, despite all of the agony and the burns and the breaking of bones, his hand somehow still held the Malorian.

Boots against concrete were the sound he heard next. He didn’t know if they were friend or thug, but given their luck today, it was more than likely the latter. Adrian hissed a breath into his lungs as he tried to move his arm up again, to defend himself and his sister before whoever was approaching could get the drop on them.

Before the agony of the effort could claim him, Adrian saw a grizzled face with salt and pepper hair, a dark trench coat, and a distinct, black cyberarm. Then, once more, he fell into unconsciousness.

M was honestly a bit shocked at the sight before him. He had seen a lot of shit go down over the years. Stuff that people would only believe if they had been there themselves. And yet, despite that, he was impressed with the young man at his feet.
The young man’s right arm and eye had been badly burned, more than likely due to the blaze that was currently consuming one of the homes. The young woman against his chest shared a resemblance to him, their hair pigment and facial features suggesting as much, if not the protective way that he held her against his body. Some of the hair on the right side of his face had been charred away, and even if he hadn’t received those burns, his right arm was so badly broken in so many places that he would likely need a cybernetic replacement.

M’s left hand drifted up to his own cyberarm, the one that he had lost at a rather young age. Not quite as young as the young man in front of him, but he hadn’t been much older. And he had to admire the balls on the kid to not only fire a weapon like a Malorian 3516 without a cyberarm - twice - but he had apparently used a manual bypass in order to get the thing to fire at all, given the fact that his personal link was still connected to the bottom of the pistol.

“… am I really considering this?” M asked himself aloud, wondering at the plan that had formed in his mind. “Have I become sentimental in my old age, or plain senile?”

It didn’t matter. He’d follow through with it. Besides, the kid would owe him for this. There was no such thing as a free favor in Night City, after all. That much hadn’t changed even after all these years.

“… hope this kid’s got some answers for me, Willow,” he said. “Because given all the evidence, and the fact that your house is on fire… I doubt you’re still around.”

Adrian Walker’s Status:

LEVEL: 1

SREET CRED: 1

€$: 158 → 0

Stats and Skills:

BODY: 3

Athletics: Lvl 1
Annihilation: Lvl 1
Street Brawler: Lvl 2

REFLEX: 5 

Assault: Lvl 1 
Handguns: Lvl 2
Blades: Lvl 1

TECH: 5

Crafting: Lvl 2
Engineering: Lvl 1

INTELLIGENCE: 3

Breach Protocol: Lvl 1
Quickhacking: Lvl 1

COOL: 5

Ninjutsu: Lvl 1
Cold Blood: Lvl 1 → 2  

Notable Cyberware:

FORNTAL CORTEX: None | None | None 

OCCULAR SYSTEM: None (Right Eye Destroyed)

CIRCULATORY SYSTEM: None | None | None

IMMUNE SYSTEM: None | None

NERVOUS SYSTEM: None | None

INTEGUMENTARY SYSTEM: None | None | None

OPERATING SYSTEM: Civilian Standard

SKELETON: None | None

HANDS: None

ARMS: None (Right Arm Destroyed)

LEGS: None

Chapter Text

May 20th, 2075.

Night City, CA.

7:21 am PST.

9 hours after the death of Willow Walker.

7 months before a certain car accident.

Adrian’s world was a fog. Scattered words and sounds of the city clogged his mind like rush-hour traffic, keeping him from forming any coherent thoughts. It was not ideal, but he wasn’t capable of thinking of anything like that at the moment. That he was self aware enough to retain even his name was an oddity that he wasn’t sure how to describe.

Slowly, he started to come back to himself, starting with the sensations that he could feel. He was laying down at an angle, probably in a chair of some kind. He couldn’t tell what it was made of, but it was clearly meant for some kind of medical procedure. 

Then came voices, then sounds, and then everything else.

“-not weak, I’ll give ‘im that,” a rough but gentle voice said, the sound of a rolling chair crossing a room reaching him. “Still, I’d recommend getting him fitted for replacements as soon as possible, before PLP starts to fully set in.”

“That’ll be his choice to make. It’s a shame he won’t have long to make it, but that’s the rub,” another voice said. It wasn’t as rough, but was older and far deeper, with a distinctive accent for somewhere along the east coast. His mother had described the place once, one of the old districts from before New York City had become the hellscape that it was today. What had she called the place? Brooklyn?

“Well, whatever choice he needs to make, just be sure he makes it soon,” the other man said.

“Thank you, Viktor,” the deeper voice responded. “And remember-”

“Neither of you were ever here. I know the drill.”

“Good man.”

At the tail end of the conversation, Adrian came fully into his consciousness, the contents of the conversation he had overheard swept aside as the soreness of his own body crashed into him like a wave. He heard the two men moving towards him as he woke, one of them putting a firm but gentle hand on his right shoulder, pushing him back onto the chair. 

“Easy there son. You’re gonna be alright, just let yourself come out of it,” he said, letting Adrian’s senses fully adjust to his surroundings. As his vision came back to him, Adrian couldn’t help but look around at everything, even as weak as his vision was. The space was wide, almost cavernous, as though it was half meant as a medical office and half meant as an offloading space. Which, considering some of the supplies that rippers had to get to stay in business, wouldn’t surprise Adrian in the least.

“How… how long was I out?” he asked, bringing a hand to his forehead… or trying to. Instead, a tinge of pain came from his right shoulder, where it had once held an arm. 

The ripper noticed, an expression of regret coming over his face. He wasn’t an old man, but he wasn’t a young one either, probably somewhere in his early to mid forties. His dark hair still had all it’s normal coloration, and his eyes were hidden behind a pair of dark glasses. Adrian couldn’t tell if they were medical or simply stylistic. But that didn’t stop his words from reaching the young man on the chair. 

“Several hours,” he answered honestly. “Your arm was… well I don’t know what the hell you did; guy who brought you here won’t tell me, and I doubt you will either. Bones broken in several places, severe internal muscular damage, ligament stress so intense I’m not sure how you were able to hold anything at all. Had to cut it off. Not my first choice, but it was better than letting you suffer potential necrosis in the limb in a few days.”

“My sister… is she okay?”

The man smiled at him, eager to deliver some good news rather than the grim things he had just been forced to tell. “Nothing serious. Some secondhand smoke inhalation and some mild head trauma, but she should be up in while. Honestly, I’m surprised that you woke up before she did.”

Adrian nodded. “Thanks, doc.”

“My pleasure,” the man said, standing from his chair. “And feel free to call me Viktor. Or maybe just Vik, if you’d like.”

He glanced at the other man in the room, whose grim face was set in a neutral expression. He sighed, waving his hand over his shoulder as he walked to the exit of his clinic. “I’ll let you two talk, then.”

He left, sliding the gate to his clinic behind him as his steps echoed out and through the room all around them. The man across from Adrian was quite… well, hard-edged was one word for it. His aforementioned grim face was square, and his jaw was cut like a cliff’s edge. Salt and pepper stubble matched the short hair on his head, his eyes looking a natural shade of brown, although at least one of them was likely cybernetic. Adrain wondered, for a brief moment, which was which. He certainly couldn’t tell.

His frame was broad and well muscled, like a stereotypical military man that you’d see in propaganda posters. Unlike those same men, that didn’t seem to be the end of his capabilities. He could see it in the relaxed posture and ready position, like he was a coiled spring inside a machine of death and carnage. He wore practical clothing, a simple pair pants and a shirt, though his combat boots and long, dark trenchcoat were both oddities that might make him stand out. 

But what drew Adrian’s attention more than anything else was the distinct black cyberarm that had replaced the man’s long lost right arm. It was sleek and well crafted, clearly made to handle some heavy weaponry in addition to being a great tool for close quarters combat. There was only one person he knew of, merc or otherwise, with cybernetics like that.

“I imagine you have a lot of questions,” he said, raising his hand before Adrian could ask anything. “And I know that you probably have plenty of assumptions about my identity due in no small part to my arm. I’ll assure you now that those assumptions are likely correct. But names as infamous as that one can be… inconvenient. Especially when trying to maintain a low profile. So best get used to callin’ me something other than that, alright?”

“… okay,” Adrian agreed, slightly star-struck at his succinct explanation. “Do you have any suggestions?”

The grizzled man gave a wry smile. “‘M’ should do just fine. Anyways… on to more prudent topics.”

M’s smile fell from his face as he pulled something out of his trenchcoat, the young man across from him immediately recognizing it for what it was. The Malorian. The same one that he had used to get himself and Maya out of their burning home. Thoughts of it, and what it had done to his arm, caused a twinge of pain in the now missing limb. 

“This thing… this fucking thing…” M said, looking down at it with what looked like contempt. “You know the first two shots from this thing were made last night?”

“… what?”

“I know - that shouldn’t be a thing. Malour didn’t make trophies, he made tools, and even if I don’t prefer handguns this is one of the finest designs he ever made. But that is the case. You’re literally the first person to use this thing for it’s intended purpose. I might not loathe corpos like some, but I do hate people who display weapons that have never been used. It’s tacky.

“That also brings us to the second problem,” M said, placing the Malorian on a nearby table. “You used a manual link bypass to get this thing to fire, am I right?”

“… yeah,” Adrian said, his thoughts immediately jumping to the Shard that his mother had slotted into his port. When he didn’t find it there, he started to panic. 

“Calm down,” M said, tone firm as he pulled that gunmetal grey Shard out of another pocket in his trenchcoat. “It’s still here. But it’s also got a bit of a complication. See, I wanted to check and see that the data on it was intact, so I slotted it and checked. Imagine my surprise when it came up looking half shredded.”

“What? How’s that possible?” Adrian asked, scared that he might’ve done something to mess up the Shard. 

“You tell me, kid,” M said, handing him the Shard. “Slot it.”

“But you just said-”

“I know. I want to test something. Slot it, please.”

Hesitantly, Adrian did as he asked, taking the Shard from M’s outstretched hand and placing it in his neural port. But instead of the shredded data that the grizzled man had described, he saw everything that he had before. Schematics, speculations, and datakey.

“It… it looks normal to me,” he said, unable to help the surprise in his tone.

“That’s what I thought…” M said to himself. “You really did a number on that Shard, y’know that?”

“What?” Adrian was genuinely confused now. What had he done to the Shard that had made the data on it appear shredded to M?

“That Manual Bypass you used should’ve been a relatively normal thing,” M explained. “Unusual, perhaps, but not something that a guy as meticulous as Malour wouldn’t have taken into account. What he didn’t take into account was the idea that some fuckin’ crazy kid from Watson would use that Manual Bypass without a cyberarm to offset the kick of the weapon, and the resulting feedback havoc and pain that would make a mess of your nerves and your brain chemistry. And that the crazy gonk would go and do it twice.

“In essence: the moment you fired that gun, you became bound to it. Datakey for the smartlink is irretrievable unless that Shard is in your neural port, because the whole situation caused the data on said Shard to essentially get split in half. One half is tangled in your neural port, and the other remains on the Shard. And only together can they show the full depths of the information they contain. So… congrats on that, I guess.”

A feeling of dread wormed it’s way through Adrian’s gut as he asked his next question. It was one that had gnawed at the back of his mind since he and M had been left alone together by Viktor, one that needed to be asked, but which he was terrified to voice aloud.

“… why did you save me and my sister?”

M sighed. “Not for noble reasons. Not entirely, anyway. This is Night City, after all. No such thing as a free favor here. Reason I was around was because I was gonna meet your ma.’ Help her find a proper buyer for the Malorian, get a small cut of the sale as a finder’s fee. Simple and easy. Now that plan’s gotten all cocked up - probably because of some corpo bullshit, given who she likely took the Malorian from, and the fact that the data on that Shard’s useless without you specifically.”

“… couldn’t you just… y’know…?” Adrian started to ask, unwilling to fully voice the assumption. 

“Technically, I could’ve,” M admitted. “But that’s a Scav tactic, and far from my personal preference. Plus, Viktor would’ve refused a request like that outright, and he’s one of the better rippers in this city.”

“What does any of this have to do with me and Maya?” Adrian asked. 

“Well, as good of a man as Viktor is, he doesn’t work pro-bono. Can’t afford to. The surgery to amputate and seal up your arm, repair the damage to your optical nerve, and scooping out the damaged eye, cost a pretty hefty sum of almost ten thousand eddies. That’s not even counting the cost of the replacement cybernetics you’re gonna need if you don’t want to spend the rest of your life missing your arm and eye.”

“So… what? How the hell am I supposed to pay for all of that? Our family wasn’t exactly flush with cash before everything went down, and mom didn’t share any banking information with us. Any clues for that have probably burned up with our house.”

“… as I see it, you’ve got two options, kid,” M said, looking Adrian dead in the eyes. “Your first option is the easiest. You give the Malorian to me, and I part ways with you with a cool five hundred thousand eddies in your bank account. I’ll admit that’s not nearly what this gun is really worth, but considering the fact that neither myself or any potential buyers can link to it now, that’s the best I can justify paying for it. I’ll also pay for medical replacements for your limbs and the surgeries that’ve already been performed on you. It won’t be a great start to a new life, but it will be something.”

Adrian looked back at the grizzled man, not bothering to hide the shock on his face. Half a million eddies was a lot of money. Even most corpos would have to be careful handling that much cash. To so casually offer such a sum for the weapon - one that no one else would be able to use anymore… it was certainly tempting. But something in M’s tone suggested that this might not be the path that he wanted. And, if Adrian was being totally honest with himself, he wasn’t sure if it was the path that he wanted either. It would be easy, and it would be safe, but it almost felt like… giving in. Like he would be letting the city swallow him whole. He had been content with the idea of being no one before. Now, after those Arasaka grunts had kicked in his door and burned down his home… he wasn’t sure if it was the right option.

“And the other?” he asked, anticipation gnawing at him.

“You keep the Malorian, and you work off your debt to me one gig at a time. In the meantime, I’ll train and teach you to be the best damn merc I can make ya. I’m no gonk - you clearly don’t have a lot of experience with this kind of stuff, and I’m not so callous as to throw you to the races completely unprepared just to see if you’ll survive. Whoever the fuck thought that was a good way to train people is an idiot of the highest caliber. It’s a much less certain path, and there is a non-zero chance that you could die. But it is still your choice to make. 

“Honestly, the fact that you have so little experience is a bit of a miracle in and of itself,” M said with a chuckle. 

“How do you mean?” Adrian asked, confused.

“Because kid, despite the harsh circumstances and the fact that you’re in Night fucking City… you’ve managed to live a relatively peaceful life. I don’t think I need to tell you how fucking rare that is, right?”

This took the young man a bit by surprise, even if it did make sense. Adrian had never thought much about his living situation beyond the fact that it was uncomfortable, but warm and loving nonetheless. And he realized, with the benefit of hindsight and the reality of the fact that that life had been taken from him… M was right. He had been superbly lucky, not only to have a mother who loved him, but to have a relatively stable home with people who genuinely cared about him, and whom he loved in return.

“… how long do I have to make that decision?” Adrian asked.

“A day. I’d offer you more time, but that’s about all you have before PLP starts to really set in on your arm. Anyway, I’ll leave you to it.”

“Wait,” Adrian said, reaching out to M before stopping abruptly, his fear of the man’s instinctual reaction staying his grasp. M looked back at him, a question in his eyes as he waited for Adrian to continue. “What… I… I don’t know what to do. I don’t know which option is right and I… fuck, I don’t even know what I want anymore.”

M’s face, despite the perpetual neutral frown, softened so slightly that Adrian had thought he’d imagined it. He kneeled down next to the young man, their eyes meeting as he spoke. “I can’t dictate which path you should take. That’s not my choice to make. And there is no ‘right’ choice here, Adrian. Only different ones. If it helps, try to contextualize it like this. On one path, there is a some degree of certain safety. Of a peaceful, uneventful life. But it is one where your livelihood may well be based on the decisions of those who will never meet you, and who will never consider you. That’s just an unfortunate fact.

“Then you have the other path. Filled with danger, death, and uncertainty about whether you’ll even see tomorrow. It is one of violence, brutality, and enough iron to kill half the NUSA. But with that danger comes something that your other option does not offer. Freedom. Control over your life, and all the consequences that come of that, good and bad alike.

“As I said, there is no correct choice. I wouldn’t blame you for choosing to fade into the background again. But if you do decide that the harder, more painful path is what you want, I will be here to guide you on your first steps. Safety or Freedom. In the end, you cannot have both.”

M stood from his position next to Adrian, turning back to offer the young man one last bit of advice. “And one more thing. Don’t head back home yet. I know it’s tempting, especially now, but people will probably be watching the place for the foreseeable future. It wouldn’t do to have you get captured just after you escaped from certain death. Let them believe you’re a non-factor.”

After that, M left the room, and Adrian was alone. He sighed, uncertainty swamping his mind as he stood from the chair, the friction of the smooth material against his skin causing that odd sound that one always associated with examination tables. He walked to the end of the room, looking for a sink or a mirror or just… something to help get his mind off of everything, center himself.

He found it at the other end of the place, where a sink was placed next to what he assumed was Viktor’s desk. He turned the faucet, and collected the water in his remaining left hand. Adrian splashed his face, rubbing the water into his face as he tried to settle his nerves. He stared at the basin as the water continued to run, his hand on the lip as he glared down at it. Like the sink was a mortal enemy. 

But truth be told, Adrian was terrified to look at his own reflection. Seeing himself, the damage that had been done to him… it would be the final nail in the coffin. It would make it all… real. He didn’t know how or why, but he did know it with certainty. He wished that it could be a terrible dream - a nightmare of the worst proportions, but nonetheless a dream. 

Still, he had to wake up. Face the reality that things were not the same. That his life was not the same. That his old day to day was gone. That his home was gone. That his mother was gone. So, as though his shoulders held the weight of the sky itself upon them, Adrian turned off the flow from the faucet and brought his face up to the mirror, looking at himself for the first time since the fire.

He noticed his clothing first. Adrian was still wearing something similar to before: a simple grey t-shirt and dark pants that you could find on basically any street corner. His skin was a bit pale, especially since he’d been out of the sun for a number of hours, but not for so long that he appeared unhealthy. His features were an odd mix of angles and smoothness, but it wasn’t one that he thought was unattractive, just average. His coal black hair was cut short, though not quite as short as M’s, and looked more than a little frazzled in the aftermath of the fire. He ran his still wet hand through it in an attempt to smooth it out, to try and make at least one thing normal again.

But there was no ignoring the obvious. His right arm was gone. Amputated at the shoulder. Adrian hadn’t known that the damage had been that bad, but really, he shouldn’t have been surprised. The fact that he had managed to fire the Malorian twice without a cyberarm was a fucking miracle. He’d been something of a crazy gonk for even considering it. But then again, if he hadn’t, he and Maya would both be dead. Besides, it was far too late for regrets now. 

Still, bad as the loss of his arm was, the damage to his eye was just as terrible. Much of the upper right side of his face had been bandaged, so he couldn’t see it’s true extent, but it was bad. It was really, really bad. Even if his face weren’t covered, he wouldn’t be able to see out of that eye anymore. It had been removed for his own good.

He stared at it for several seconds, leaning his hand against the sink basin before, silently, his lone grey eye began to weep silent tears for the life and the family he had lost.

Adrian wasn’t sure when he had stopped crying, but it had been a while. The sun was on it’s way through the sky, the light unable to reach the concrete of the alleyway. Viktor’s clinic was on a lower level than this alleyway was, and Adrian had emerged from it in the hopes of finding some sort of clarity. There were two options here. On the left was a door that led somewhere that he didn’t know about. To his right was where the alleyway continued out onto the street. Considering the general style of architecture, he was probably still somewhere in Watson, probably in the south side of the district. Still, it might prudent for him to at least know where he was before he went and did anything too reckless.

Then the door to the left opened, and out walked a woman who seemed quite surprised to see him. She was older than he was, probably in her mid twenties, with a bob of hair that looked to be a mix of blonde and black - it was likely that she dyed it, and that said dye was currently fading. Her green eyes and fair skin were emphasized by the dark eyeshadow and lipstick, and the spiked leather collar around her neck gave her a goth-like vibe. There were a pair of charms around her neck as well, and she wore a comfortable looking purple sweater, a smooth black skirt and fishnet stockings, a pair of boots completing her strange ensemble.

“Oh! You’re awake,” she said, her face lighting up in relief as she looked Adrian over. For such a gloomy looking woman, she certainly had a very cheery attitude. “Vik said you’d probably be around, but it’s been almost an hour since he came back up. Any discomfort? Phantom pain?”

“No, but Vik and M told me that I have about a day before that fully sets in,” Adrian replied. “Who are you?”

“Ah! Knew I was forgetting something,” she said as she stepped back and held out her hand. “I’m Misty Olsewski, owner and operator of Misty’s Esoterica and occasional assistant for Viktor.”

Adrian took her hand, noting that she hadn’t needed to think before offering him her left hand. Either she was a lefty, or she had a pretty natural sense for people. Or it could very well be both; he couldn’t say.

“You moonlight as an assistant ripper?” Adrian asked. “While running an… Esoterica shop?”

Misty just shrugged. “I know, it sounds weird when I say it out loud. But that’s my life, and I like it well enough. Anyway, would you mind coming in? Your sister’s inside, but she’s still asleep.”

Adrian immediately nodded to the request, eager to see his little sister again. Misty guided him into her shop, which immediately struck him as perhaps the single most bizarre place he had ever seen. Adrian had never been to any kind of esoterica shop before, but he wasn’t sure he’d have expected something like this place. Various tokens and artifacts of eastern influence lined the walls, including some dragon statues along the wall, a larger buddha statue displayed at the back, and even a bonsai tree. On one side of the room was a couter where she clearly conducted business with some stuff that she likely sold in arm’s reach, while on the other sat a pair of chairs for customers, likely meant for something that Adrian had no idea about.

In one of said chairs was his sister. Maya was still unconscious, her dark hair mussed and messy, her clothing relatively undamaged by the fire. Adrian almost winced as he thought back to everything else that had been lost in the fire beyond their livelihoods and their mother. At some point, they were going to have to get new clothes, if for no other reason than to throw off those Arasaka assholes. It had been less than a day after all. The clothing situation would be much less of a problem if they actually had any spare eddies to burn, which they did not.

“She hasn’t woken up fully,” Misty explained, walking over to Maya and examining the young woman for any signs of distress. “Some fitful bouts of consciousness, but nothing more than that. Doesn’t make much sense for the short time she’s up, like she’s still dreaming. That tends to be a symptom of… intense stress and trauma.”

The witchy woman turned back to Adrian, concern in her gaze. “I didn’t hear the details of what happened to you two, but considering the fact that we had to saw off your arm and scoop out your eye - which looked like it had been put directly on a hot stove - I can’t assume it was anything less than truly terrible.”

Adrian didn’t answer her question, just nodding to confirm her assumption. It wasn’t like denying the obvious would help him right that second, but he really didn’t want to get into it right that second. Misty seemed to sense his hesitation, not prodding for anything he wasn’t willing to give.

“Anyway, it seems like she could wake any minute now,” Misty said as she walked over to her counter. “Would you like to do a reading while you wait? On the house.”

“Reading?” Adrian asked, genuinely curious. “What kind?”

“Ah, I see you’ve never had the pleasure of a tarot reading before,” Misty observed with a mysterious smile. “Then I suppose I’ll do the honor of introducing you to the concept. It’s essentially a form of fortune telling that utilizes specific cards to divine aspects of one’s past, present and future. Sometimes it can be very specific, and other times it can actually be frustratingly vague. It’s a very interesting topic.”

“That sounds a little… off to me,” Adrian admitted.

“That really all depends on your perspective,” Misty said with a shrug. “And on the cards that get drawn. Anyways, you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

Misty pulled the first card from the deck, laying it out for Adrian. It showed a red industrial background of cascading metal buildings, wires, and other infrastructure. At the center of the foreground was a punk-looking figure lit in yellow, walking on a roof top with a malnourished dog by his side as he walked to the left, one arm stretched in front of him while his other arm held a stick. His right leg was in front of him, hovering over the edge of the building, as though unaware that he was about to step off the building’s edge.

“The Fool,” she said, waiting for Adrian’s response.

“I, uh… can’t tell whether or not your cards are insulting me.”

Misty laughed at his confused response. “Not that kind of fool. Well, not entirely. The Fool represents new beginnings, and a general sense of wonder. The Fool is everyone - including you and me - as we all experience our lives, learning and changing along the way. A new beginning has made itself known to you. And it’ll be the start of something that will leave you changed. Whether or not that’s a good thing is something you’ll have to decide for yourself.”

Misty then took the next card from her deck, placing it near The Fool for the next stage of the reading. This card showed a very different image to the previous card. In the background, various distorted masks tinted in red lined an implied wall, almost covering it entirely. In the mid-ground stood a figure lit in yellow with a high-collared jacked and short, upwards-spiked white hair and a skull mask over their face, if it wasn’t the figure’s own skull itself. At the center of the figure’s torso was an infinity symbol. In front of the figure in the foreground was a grey, metallic table, with various jagged knives lain out.

“The Magician,” Misty began. “It represents self-confidence and adaptability, as well as a disposition for solving problems through quick wit and sheer will. You’re a thinker, even if you can sometimes get stuck inside your own head a bit too often. I’d recommend encouraging that side of yourself. There are many situations where that kind of skill set is a true asset.”

“You got all of that from a card?” Adrian asked, a bit surprised by the accuracy of it. He didn’t like to flaunt it around, but the car had not been wrong either.

“Maybe,” Misty said, giving him a teasing wink. “Or maybe you’re just a bit of an open book.”

Adrian flushed with some embarrassment while the woman drew the next card, unable to determine whether or not she was telling the truth.

The next card was far, far different to the others in the worst possible ways. It primarily consisted of a single face: a cruel face of a man on a blood-red background, hungrily smiling, teeth barred. His many eyes were red, their placement startlingly similar to the shape of optic implants used by members of Maelstrom gang. Even the thought of Watson’s biggest gang was enough to cause Adrian to shiver in fear. Some of the things they did… he hoped he never ran into them. The only people who might be worse, in Adrian’s opinion, were Scavs, and at least Maelstrom had some centralized order to it, even if said order was precarious at the best of times.

“The Devil,” Misty said, her face shewed up in concern. “It represents addiction, want and passion. Generally, a lot of things we consider ‘ baser instincts’ are attributed to this card. It’s one of excess and selfishness at a price that one is not prepared to pay.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” Adrian noted. 

“That’s not all it represents,” Misty interjected. “That’s just the most obvious stuff. More than the surface desires, The Devil also represents something that makes us all fundamentally human. The sheer, animalistic will to live. If we didn’t have that, none of us would be here. You’ve touched on something primal, and recently. You’ll probably come into contact with it again in the future. You should be prepared for when you do.”

Adrian nodded, Misty’s explanation making him think of the fire, and that cold that had come over his thoughts. It hadn’t been a literal cold, but more a metaphorical one. Like that old saying ‘cooler heads prevail’ made manifest into… that. Adrian wasn’t sure what it was, whether he gone into shock from the pain or had tapped into some kind of primal instinct. What he did know was that without that cool focus, he wouldn’t have been able to get himself and his sister out of their home alive. It would’ve been simply impossible.

Misty drew the final card then, this one seeming far more… risque, for lack of a better term, especially at first glance. The background was an abstract and unclear setting, dark with purple sparkles about the scene, like a night sky seen through purple-tinted glass. Numerous figures shrouded in darkness looked at the central figure with singular, cyclops-like purple eyes. The central figure stood upon a crystalline-seeming stage made of purple glass in the midst of what seemed to be a dance, the figure on her knees as though she meant to stand from the position in just a moment. Her dress was extremely open down the middle, showing off much of her breasts and torso with the edges just barely covering her nipples. She was posed facing to the right of the card with both arms up, her right arm stretched slightly higher as her purple hair flowed back in a stream, her face obscured almost entirely by her right arm.

“The Star,” Misty said, a soft smile on her face. “It represents hope. The light that guides us home, to help us remember what matters. We draw strength from it to carry on. You will know your star when you see it, I think. And when you do, follow it. Hold on to it. It will not steer you wrong in the end.”

Adrian was surprised by that. The idea of hope. He couldn’t begin to imagine having hope for much, after everything that had happened to him and his sister. What did Misty mean, though, when she said that he would know his star when he saw it? Would he? Would he know it by sight, and follow it to the end? At this point, he couldn’t imagine such a thing bearing any fruit but that of disappointment. 

“I see that you’re having doubts,” Misty said as she collected the cards, shuffling them back into her deck one by one. “I can’t really blame you for that. It probably seems impossible, the idea of having hope again after such a tragedy. But still, the fact remains that it does exist, even if you can’t see it. Clouds may block out the light of the sun, but that does not mean it isn’t there. I promise you, Adrian. You will feel hope again. If not today, then someday.”

A grunt came from the side of the room, drawing their attention. Misty immediately went to Maya’s side with Adrian quick on her heels, coaxing her out of slumber as her eyes started to flutter open. 

“Mm… what… what happened?” she asked, her voice slightly parched. Adrian darted over to the fridge in front of Misty’s desk, pulling out a bottle of water from it’s insides and managing to unscrew it despite his missing arm, giving it to her shortly afterwards. She drank greedily from the container, two thin trails of water spilling out of the corners of her mouth and soaking into her baggy, oversized shirt. She gasped in a breath as she pulled the bottle from her lips, her eyes clearing as she looked for something familiar.

“Adrian?” she asked. “What… where…?”

Before she could finish, her eyes widened in realization. Her hand came up to her mouth as she tried to choke off a sob, but failed. Adrian quickly came to her side, pulling her towards him as she started to weep. He didn’t stop her, and Misty made no comment. Instead, she silently let the siblings have their space as she slipped from the shop, making sure her sign was set to closed to make sure they had the privacy they would need for the conversation that would come afterward.

When Maya’s crying faded several minutes later, Adrian asked if she wanted him to explain what happened. She nodded without much enthusiasm, as though it were something to check off her list rather than information regarding the death of her mother and the destruction of their home. Still, Adrian didn’t hold back, telling her everything he knew. He didn’t spare the information of how their mother had died, either. Though it might seem cruel on the outside, Adrian knew that Maya deserved to know what their mother had done for them in her last moments. Given them a fighting chance.

He strayed away from the topic of his missing arm and eye, simply telling her that he had lost them in the fire. it wasn’t untrue, but it wasn’t the whole of it either. Maya didn’t need that on her mind, not right now. Still, he also explained about M, how he had gotten them to Viktor’s clinic and how, once he’d woken up, the man had offered him a choice. Give up the Malorian for the sake of a relatively safe life, or keep it and carve out a place in the city for themselves.

“… Maya?” he asked, desperate to hear her voice again. “Maya, did you hear me?”

No response. Instead, she simply stared at the wall, looking hollow. Almost defeated. Her gaze was blank, practically glazed over, like she was little more than a corpse that hadn’t realized it was dead yet.

“Maya,” he said, gently shaking her shoulder. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. They were supposed to make this choice together - it was going to affect the rest of their lives. “Maya, say something.”

Silence.

“Maya, please. This is something we need to decide on together. Couldn’t you just… give me something?”

Silence.

“Maya… be angry. Hate me or the world or whatever you need to, just… give me something.”

Silence.

“… isn’t… don’t you have anything to say? Anything at all?”

But no matter what he tried, nothing worked. Despite his efforts, his sister’s voice did not appear. No reassurance, no opinions, no anger. Just apathetic shock. And the silence that hung between them was only echoed in its depths by their shared pain.

Adrian wasn’t sure what time it was when he found himself wandering the streets of Watson, but he wasn’t so sure it mattered. The aimlessness of his journey matched the aimlessness in his mind. His uncertainty about the future, and his terror at the choice he would have to make.

Fighting his way out of the fire had been simple. Not easy, but it wasn’t hard to understand. Point a to point b. A single objective. Nothing complex about it. The circumstances that led to it likely were, but not what he had been forced to do in the end. Faced with the question of ‘live or die,’ he, and he assumed many others, would gladly choose to live. 

Adrian thought he felt some stares at his arm as he walked the streets. He knew that it wasn’t normal to see someone walking around without some kind of medical-grade replacement, so he did sort of stand out. But he doubted that anyone would recognise him. And even if some people from Arasaka were watching his house, they still presumed that he was dead, so it was unlikely that they’d be looking for him anywhere but there.

The sounds of the city faded into an odd background white noise that he found comforting in this hollow silence of his thoughts. Adrian had never liked crowds, and actually preferred to stay indoors whenever he could, reading or tinkering with things as he wanted to. Sometimes he was dragged away due to gang obligations, but they never managed to dull his passion for those hobbies. 

Eventually, through his aimless wandering or maybe just an odd sense of direction, he found himself at the front door of a hole-in-the-wall bar. Said bar had a single sign in plain neon displaying it’s name in fancy cursive. A name which Adrian found confusing, but oddly fitting for this time in his life.

The Garden of Choice. Fitting indeed.

He stepped inside, the automatic door sliding to the side to alow him entry. Due to the time of day - likely somewhere in the early or mid afternoon, the place was mostly empty, with only a couple of patrons at a few of the scattered tables in the space. Despite it’s outward appearance, the bar itself was actually pretty spacious, with what looked like hardwood flooring and decent furniture, along with a second level that shared all the same architectural signatures as the first, with a staircase that split off to either side in order to provide more than a single means of entry. 

The bar itself was a long, wide thing that all patrons would see upon entry, with several stools placed in front of it for ease of access, an assortment of liquors on display, and a large menu to the side with names for drinks that Adrian had never heard of before. Unwilling to join any of the patrons, whom he didn’t know, he just walked over to the bar and sat, staring down into the grain of the wood as though it held the answers to all his problems. 

The bartender came over to him at some point. Adrian was losing track of time - or at least the sense that it was passing. The young man looked up at the figure, finding a large, well-built man who reminded him immediately of an elderly bodybuilder. Not someone like a member of the Animals, who augmented themselves through cybernetic muscles, organs and steroids to embrace that idea of ‘an animal,’ but someone who got that strong using their own strength and discipline, and likely still kept up with the training.

“You look troubled son. There anything I can get you?”

“I doubt it,” Adrian said. “Don’t have any edds on me.”

The bartender nodded, understanding where he was coming from. “Well, take your time. I usually don’t let people just sit here without getting somethin,’ but you seem like you’ve been through quite a lot, and quite recently. I’ll be around if you need to talk.”

Adrian nodded, acknowledging the man’s kindness in this, at least. He didn’t think he would take him up on his offer of talking, though. He just wanted to… well, he wasn’t sure what he wanted. That was the problem. He would’ve preferred that none of this had happened at all. That he was back in his old life, with all of the things that he suddenly missed in hindsight. But that wasn’t for him. Not anymore. And he would have to contend with that fact, however he could.

Safety or Freedom, huh? What a fucking choice. Giving up your fate to others or take it into your own hands. 

A while had passed before something changed. The door to the bar was slammed open, the voice of a loud woman reaching all across the bar. 

“Hey! Tyler!” she called out, slamming the door behind her. “Can I get my usual?”

“Sure thing,” the large bartender - Tyler apparently - replied, immediately pulling out a few things to start making her a drink that Adrian didn’t know the name of. Given Tyler’s proficiency with it though, it was clear that he’d made it many times, and could even do a bit of stunt bartending. Whether that was to put on a show or a sign of his own proficiency at the craft, or both, Adrian couldn’t rightly say. 

The woman hopped up on the barstool and accepted the drink gratefully, and Adrian was honestly astonished at her appearance. She was a short woman, so short in fact that she couldn’t touch the floor from where she sat with her whole foot. Her zip-up hoodie seemed a bit too large for her and covered much of her torso, with a high collar and left slightly unzipped, exposing a pink tattoo of a skull motif that wrapped around her neck and collarbone in the traditional Mox style, contrasting intensely with her skin, which was stark white like alabaster or fine porcelain. 

Her hair was long and pastel green, with a pair of sections done up into tails towards the back, with the rest of her hair kept in order by a single hairband with small protrusions that reminded him of cat ears. Her face was quite a pretty one, with soft features and cute lips painted a light purple to further contrast the natural lightness of her skin tone, and big eyes that drew people in. Said eyes were perhaps even more alluring than her beauty, with emerald irises set against the pink of her sclera and pupils, the cyberware marks around them faint, but noticeable enough to indicate that they were implants, if the unusual color hadn’t been enough already. 

She glanced at him, as though sensing his gaze, and Adrian immediately turned back to staring down at the bar’s counter, feeling like an idiot. What the hell was he doing, staring at a Mox like that? Sure, she was pretty as all hell, but it was rude to stare at anyone like that, especially since it looked like she’d just gotten off of work!

He overhead Tyler continue conversing with her. With nothing else to do, and desperate to take his mind off of the decision he had to make, he listened in. It wasn’t eavesdropping! Just… okay, fine, he was eavesdropping. What else was he supposed to do?

“You’re here earlier than usual,” Tyler said as he started cleaning out a glass. “I assume it’s got something to do with that brother of yours again?”

The woman sighed as she slugged back the drink back, tapping on the bar to indicate that she wanted another. “Another fucking XBD of the most bizarre variety. Didn’t even bother to ask me about personal space or timeframes first - no, that asshole just fucking started it and now he’s so deep in that I can’t yank him out and yell at him without frying some circuits in that gonk brain of his and knocking him out! I’m gonna fucking kill that bastard someday, I swear!”

Tyler simply nodded along, as though he had heard of this conversation more than once and would likely be hearing it again sometime in the future. Adrian, for one, couldn’t relate. He and his sister hadn’t always gotten along, but in the end, they were there for each other. If something happened to Maya… he didn’t even want to think about that. He wasn’t sure he could bear it. 

She glanced over at him again, seeming to notice, for the first time, just how extensive his injuries were. Adrian felt slightly uncomfortable under her gaze, afraid that she might judge him harshly for not getting a replacement prosthetic immediately, like most people would, but she made not comment on his injuries.

“Who’s he?” she asked Tyler, though in a lower tone this time, her voice tinged with genuine curiosity. And maybe a little concern, but that was reading a bit too much into things.

“Not sure,” Tyler admitted. “But he clearly hasn’t had a great go of things as of late. It might be prudent for you to leave him alone.”

There was a silence between them that told Adrian they were done talking. He sighed, turning back to the countertop to stare into the nothingness between the grains of wood.

That was when he heard someone sit in the stool next to him and call out to the bartender. The voice was one that he recognized from just a few minutes earlier, and he turned to find the short, striking woman sitting only one stool across from him and ordering them both drinks.

“I didn’t…” he began protesting to which the woman immediately held up a hand to forestall his objections.

“I know. But you look like you could use something to unwind, after all the shit you’ve been through,” she said, giving him a comforting smile that seemed genuine. Fuck, when was the last time he’d seen a genuine smile from a stranger? He couldn’t recall. “I’m Rebecca. This round’s on me.”

Adrian chuckled at that, the irony of his situation causing his rise in humor. When Rebecca gave him a confused look he shook it away. “Sorry, sorry. Just find the whole situation a little ironic. I’m Adrian, by the way.”

Rebecca nodded in acknowledgement as Tyler brought over the drinks that the petite woman had ordered. One was the same colorful mix that she had slugged down just minutes ago, while the other looked to be some kind of harder liquor, given the smaller glass and dark orange coloration that reminded Adrian of glass.

“Whiskey?” he asked, picking up the glass with his left hand. It was a strange motion for him - especially since he’d been right handed, but he wouldn’t have to get used to navigating with his non-dominant hand for long.

“Bourbon,” Rebecca clarified. “Thought you could use it, given uh… well, whatever the hell happened to you.”

Adrian sniffed at the contents of the glass, letting the smokey flavor dance through his nose, the scent delicious and rich. Adrian had heard of this kind of whiskey before, but he’d never had the chance to enjoy it. His mother had never let either himself or Maya drink anything too heavy in terms of spirits, but he supposed if he was going to start, it might as well be when he was old enough to go to war.

He took the drink and sipped at it quickly, remembering how his mother had described the burn of higher-proof alcohols and not letting the bitter liquid sit in his mouth for long. The drink was warm as it slid smoothly down his throat, the burn that followed it starting out unpleasant, but quickly turning to a pleasant tingling as he shook from the bitter, smokey taste.

“Good, right?” Rebecca said with a knowing smile. “Not really much of a whiskey girl myself, but I think I get what people see in it.”

“It’s certainly to someone’s taste,” Adrian said. 

“Yours, perhaps?” she asked, a brow raised in question.

“… maybe,” Adrian said, taking another sip from the glass. “Might need a bit to decide what I think of it.”

The two sat in a comfortable silence for a while. Minutes passed, neither of them breeching the implicit agreement of proximity. Eventually, Rebecca turned to Adrian, and, instead of asking the expected ‘are you okay,’ she asked something else entirely.

“Does it hurt?”

She looked directly at his arm, as though to confirm what she was talking about. Adrian simply shook his head, not seeing any point in denying what Viktor had already told him. “Pain won’t start setting in until tomorrow. This was… recent, as these things go.”

Rebecca gave him a look of genuine surprise, and then one of sympathy. Even if she didn’t know the exact details of what he went through, she could still sympathize with the pain, at the very least. “Must’ve been pretty horrible.”

“… it was.” He wasn’t sure why he admitted that, but something inside of him started to break when he said that. Like the damn he had put on his emotions had started to burst, and he couldn’t hold it back anymore. If he didn’t talk to someone about this - if someone didn’t hear how he felt and understood exactly how scared he was, then he was going to go insane.

“My mom died yesterday,” he said, bluntly. Rebecca looked shocked at the revelation, but Adrian didn’t register the fact. He just kept on, unable and unwilling to stop, lest he lose steam and find himself unable to speak. “She got shot, right in front of me. She bled out trying to save me and my sister. It… fuck, it’s hard to even think about. And my sister hasn’t taken any of this well. She’s barely spoken a word since everything happened. Borderline comatose even though she’s wide awake. I don’t blame her for that. I think I’d be right there with her if I didn’t have all of this on my mind.”

Adrian stopped for a brief moment, drinking more of the bourbon that Rebecca had ordered for him and placing the glass back on the counter with an audible clack. He didn’t turn to see the reaction on her face. If he saw, he might stop. And if he stopped, he would never get this out. “I lost my arm getting us both out of our house. It got set on fire by the same corpo bastards who shot my mom. They saw us as a loose end because we happened to get caught in their orbit. The burns were bad, especially around my eye, which is why that got scooped out, but the broken bones in my arm were a lot worse. I honestly have no idea how I got us out of there alive. It’s kinda terrifying, when I think about it.”

Rebecca just stared. Adrian wasn’t sure what was going through her mind in that moment, but he knew that she was likely trying to process everything that he’d just said. He mentally sighed to himself. Why had he opened up like this? He barely knew her. Still, she didn’t deserve to feel trapped by his explanation. He shouldn’t have barreled on through it like that. 

“Sorry,” he said, trying to laugh it off with an out of place chuckle. “That was a lot. I, uh… needed to get that off my chest. Thanks for being my sounding board, and… sorry you had to listen to all of that.”

Rebecca shook her head. “It’s… well, it happened, and there’s no use apologizing for it. You do seem a bit lighter, though, so that’s something at least. But it seems like that’s not everything, is it?”

Adrian almost chuckled. She was almost as perceptive as Misty, though the strange woman hadn’t asked about what the choice M had offered him, like Rebecca indirectly was. He sighed, and looked down at the last of the bourbon in the glass in front of him. He supposed that she deserved the rest, after everything he’d just dumped on her.

“I’ve got a choice to make,” he said. “It’s probably going to affect the rest of my life. My sister’s too. I tried to talk to her about it, but she’s… not in the best state for that. I can either accept a pretty substantial amount of money on our behalf and get back to some semblance of a normal life, and let the rest of the world dictate what happens to us despite a degree of guaranteed safety… or I can go the harder route and take the reigns myself, for better and worse. Boiling it down to it’s bare essentials: Safety or Freedom. Simple in presentation, but so fucking difficult in it’s execution.”

He turned to Rebecca, the question clear in his eyes before he voiced it. “If it were you instead of me in this situation… do you know what you’d choose?”

Rebecca raised a brow, her face shifting to a contemplative expression as she really gave the question some thought, especially given the emphasis that Adrian had been placing on it. That expression morphed further, from understanding, to confusion, to what looked like resigned dread. She turned to him then, opening her mouth to answer. Only, it was not the answer that he had first expected.

“… you’re not telling yourself the whole truth.”

This statement confused Adrian greatly. He had just wanted to hear a second opinion on the matter. Rebecca seemed to see that conflict on his face, and further explained herself. “I do think that you want to hear my answer, and I appreciate that fact. But I think, more than that, you’re looking for someone else to make the choice for you. You’re so scared of taking one path and finding out that you made the wrong choice that it’s stopping you from making any choice at all. It doesn’t really seem like there is a right choice here, Adrian. Just… different ones.”

“But what if-”

“You’re doing it again,” Rebecca said as she pointed at him, causing whatever response Adrian had in mind to dissipate in the wake of it. “I don’t think it’s intentional, but you are doing it.”

Adrian sat there in stunned silence, taking in the full context of the woman’s words. And he had to wonder to himself: had she been right? Had he been trying to place that decision on others? He had wanted to take his sister’s feelings into account when he had tried getting her to respond, that much he knew was genuine. But deeper than his concern for his sister was a fear. A fear that was subtle, that made him doubt and made him wonder about all the awful things that could happen to them.

Rebecca was right. He was scared. Terrified. He hadn’t been forced to make these kinds of decisions about his future before, because the life that he and Maya had lived before all of this, as M had described, was a peaceful one, thanks in no small part to the efforts of their mother. And now that he was being asked to make what was surely to be the biggest decision of their lives, he wasn’t sure what to do. It was something that he needed to come to terms with, and soon.

“You’re not wrong for being scared,” she said, a reassuring smile pulling at her purple painted lips. “I think I would be, too. But instead of letting it drive you, you’re letting it take hold of you. I’ve felt plenty of fear in my time. It’s natural. But I’ve learned to not let it control me as much as it used to. I’d recommend learning how to accept that it’s there, and that it’s real, but that it doesn’t control you.”

“… I’ll try.” And he would. Either option would require him to master his fear of this choice, and his fear in general. 

“Good on ya, choom,” Rebecca said, slapping his back lightly with her hand. Despite the sudden nature of the touch, it was surprisingly reassuring. “I’ll hold you to it, ya hear?”

“Loud and clear,” he replied with a smile. Not a wide one, or a large one, but a real smile nonetheless. 

“… I do know what I’d choose, at least,” Rebecca said. Adrian turned to her, raising a brow at the question while she returned an odd, neutral smile that seemed out of character for her. At least with the way she had bee acting the last few minutes. “Not gonna tell ya; that’d defeat the purpose of my whole argument. But I do know what I’d choose. I guess it really just depends on what you want, in the end.”

Adrian was silent for several seconds before he replied to this in turn, his voice hesitant and uncertain. “I don’t… I don’t know what I want. I used to. I wanted to help my mom as much as I could. Now she’s gone, and I… what I’d want seems irrelevant, in her absence.”

Rebecca gave him another look of sympathy, putting a gentle hand on his arm instead of the light smack she had just earlier. “Might be time for you to start thinking about that. I know it’s probably a bit of a mess in that head of yours right now, but it could do you some good to start organizing it a bit.”

… a mess?

Adrian knew she hadn’t intended to, but something she’d said had just… done something to his mind. Made something click. He searched for an answer, wondering why he was having this kind of reaction to it, to this idea of ‘a mess.’ He could’ve sworn he had heard something like that before, but-

No more mess.

Adrian’s remaining fist nearly clenched tight involuntarily, and he could feel the muscles in his right shoulder tense as his brain forgot the fact that he was still missing a limb. He knew that voice. Deep, certain, and utterly professional. The man who had led that team into their home, and decided that their lives were worth the collateral damage of the leverage that he would gain. Tall, lithe and spiderlike in so many way, none moreso than his many eyes.

And in that moment, in the midst of that anger, the cold came to him again. Without the blazing inferno of his home all around him, Adrian recognized the icy feeling crawling alll along his body, through his veins and his nerves, as a metaphorical cold, one that brought with it calm, logic, and absolute focus. 

He did not fight it. Instead, Adrian welcomed the cold as he drummed his fingers along the smooth wood of the countertop. There were several things that he knew about the man that might prove beneficial. First, his face, so distinctive that Adrian doubted he would mistake it for anyone else. Second was his name, Faraday, although depending on exactly who he was, this was a bit less useful. But last, and most importantly for Adrian…

The corpo believed that he and his sister were dead; burned alive in the fire that had consumed their home. 

“… I think so, too,” Adrian said, slugging down the last of the bourbon in a single, smooth motion, setting the glass against the counter with a loud clack. He nodded to Rebecca in thanks, both for the drink and for her company, and quickly left the bar. Just as fast as he had been lamenting it, he had found something he wanted. One of the simplest things in all of Night City. 

Revenge.

M tapped his heel against the ground as he waited for Adrain to return, Vik’s screen playing one of the latest boxing matches while they waited. The combatants on screen were both good fighters, but it was clear for him to see that they would both only be marginally useful in an actual fight. Boxing wasn’t a useless martial art, and was actually one that he had some experience with, but he still preferred things like Aikido, especially in close combat situations.

“He’ll be back soon, don’t you worry,” Vik said, trying to reassure him as he adjusted the ripper tool on his left hand with a screwdriver. “Doesn’t seem like the kind of kid to run from something like this. Not forever.”

M nodded, looking down to the package in his hand. This wasn’t either of the arms that the kid would be offered; it was far too small for that. It was an operating system. An experimental one that an old friend had been tinkering with on and off over the years. Not a Sandevistan, a Cyberdeck, or even one of the newer Berserk models. It was… something else. There was an ocular piece of cyberware that went with it; it couldn’t work otherwise, but this was something that M would only offer the kid if he took the harder road, and only give to him if the kid wanted it. Even he would be hesitant about putting this thing in his body.

He was dragged from his musings as the door slammed open, the kid panting and slightly hunched over as he stood in the doorway. There was sweat on Adrian’s brow, like he had been running for several minutes as fast as he damn well could just to get here. And when he looked in those kid’s eyes, there was a fire there. A fire that he had seen in the brief moment before he had fallen unconscious protecting his little sister. A fire that had burned brighter than the inferno around him. But still, M had to ask.

“So… Safety or Freedom. Have you made your choice?”

Adrian took a breath, let it out, and fully met M’s gaze. With a surety in his voice that had not been there before, he answered, tone full of conviction, determination, and solid steel.

“Freedom. I choose Freedom… and whatever consequences come with it.”

M couldn’t help but smile. This… this was going to be interesting.

Adrian Walker’s Status:

LEVEL: 1 → 2

SREET CRED: 1

€$: 0

Stats and Skills:

BODY: 3

Athletics: Lvl 1

Annihilation: Lvl 1

Street Brawler: Lvl 2

REFLEX: 5

Assault: Lvl 1

Handguns: Lvl 2

Blades: Lvl 1

TECH: 5

Crafting: Lvl 2

Engineering: Lvl 1

INTELLIGENCE: 3

Breach Protocol: Lvl 1

Quickhacking: Lvl 1

COOL: 5 → 6

Ninjitsu: Lvl 1

Cold Blood: Lvl 2 → 3

Notable Cyberware:

FORNTAL CORTEX: None | None | None 

OCCULAR SYSTEM: None (Right Eye Destroyed)

CIRCULATORY SYSTEM: None | None | None

IMMUNE SYSTEM: None | None

NERVOUS SYSTEM: None | None

INTEGUMENTARY SYSTEM: None | None | None

OPERATING SYSTEM: Civilian Standard

SKELETON: None | None

HANDS: None

ARMS: None (Right Arm Destroyed)

LEGS: None

Chapter Text

“So… any color preferences?”

Viktor was getting Adrian properly set up to connect the replacement cyberarm. The young man looked at all the options, and immediately sighed as he looked at the selection. Not out of disappointment - they were clearly high-value pieces. M himself had confirmed that they were military grade hardware, much like his own cyberarm. He just wished that the manufacturer was different.

“Does it have to be ‘Saka?” he asked.

Viktor just shrugged. “It’s what we got. I would give you a wider selection, but military grade hardware’s a rare sight for a reason. This is all I’ve got in stock at the moment.”

Adrian nodded, not faulting the man for limited supply. He still had a hard time thinking of the corp that Faraday worked for in any capacity other than rage, but he would get a grip on his anger if he had to. He tried to think of it as using Arasaka’s own weapons against them. It helped. Not a lot, but it helped.

“As long it’s not too bright or black, I’m not sure I care,” Adrian said, looking over the selections available. There were four in total, all in different colorations. One was mostly dark grey with red detailing the Arasaka logo painted onto the forearm and shoulder in a non-intrusive fashion. Another was mostly a dark, cobalt blue with silver details, while a third was entirely black with details that were oddly grey in coloration. 

Then there was the final arm, the one that actually grabbed his attention. A dark red was the primary color for the arm, with black detailing on the internals, knuckles and joints, the subtle Arasaka logo on the forearm and shoulder the same dark coloration. For some reason, that one felt… right. He couldn’t rightly say why. It just did.

“That one,” he said, indicating the arm that had caught his eye. Vik looked over at it, a brow raised over the rim of his dark glasses. 

“You have some particular taste, Adrian,” Viktor said, rolling himself over to the cyberarm and picking it out from the selection. “Can’t say I blame you, though. It’s a striking coloration, if not a particularly eye-catching one. Anyway, I suppose if you really don’t want to be reminded of ‘Saka for whatever reason, I can paint the logos over. Won’t help if someone actually identifies the model, but it shouldn’t be a problem otherwise.”

M gave a nod of approval, his face still set in that grim line as he spoke. “Then we’d best get to the install. How long should it take?”

“About ten minutes, and he’ll be out for most of it,” the ripper answered. “Connecting nerve endings to neural adapters can be pretty painful without anesthesia, so he’ll be under for the surgery.”

Adrian raised a brow at that. “I thought we were gonna install optics too?”

“Yeah, but you and M need to talk about some specifics on that point,” Vik said as he pulled out an injector. “Now stay still. I’m gonna be numbing out your shoulder and right pectoral. Shouldn’t feel a thing.”

Vik injected him with the anesthesia, and before long, Adrian was put into a short slumber. When he awoke, it was to the ripper finishing up the install of his new arm, closing a panel as he felt the internals match up with the usual processes of his nerves and reactions. 

“How’s it feel?” Vik asked. “Been a while since I’ve installed one of these, but it should be functioning normally, yeah?”

Adrian tested it out, rotating his arm left and right, bending it at the elbow and extending it out. The fingers moved about with no small measure of his natural dexterity, and given a couple of hours he should be back to how he’d been before the fire. Better, even.

“Working great, doc. Thanks,” he said with a genuine smile. 

Vik looked over at M with a pleased smile. “He’s taking to it well, it seems. What’s your assessment?”

“His ease of use is probably due to how recent the loss of his arm was. But it’s also not an impossibility that he has some affinity for the arm,” M said, tone neutral as his own cyberarm flexed it’s fingers, suggesting that he might have some experience with that process. “Give it a couple of hours, and it should be like he never lost it.”

Adrian was surprised that M had come to the same conclusion that he had regarding his recovery. Vik just nodded, rolled over to one of the nearby tables and picked up an inhaler. 

“Take this,” he said, putting the thing in Adrian’s hand. “It’ll help with the internal backlash from the arm, if there is any. Two puffs now, then two again in about an hour. Do that until the pain stops or the inhaler runs out, and you should be right as rain.”

Adrian nodded, taking those recommended two puffs. The medicine tasted flavorless in an artificial way. He wasn’t sure how he could taste that, but he did, and it was fucking weird. Then, another question came to mind. 

“Hey, Vik? When you referenced people installing without anesthesia, were you being serious?” Adrian only had two implants before everything had went down: his holo and his personal link, which were both relatively common and not all that costly. The ripper he and his sister had gotten them from was strictly professional and did his job well. He’d even adjusted them through their major growth spurts, for which he was grateful. Thankfully, they’d managed to catch it early and prevent long-term damage.

“Yeah. I guess some rippers think that it’s a good plan to make people go through installs without anesthesia. Saves money or whatever bullshit excuse they’ve got for themselves. In my opinion, it just hurt business. Who the hell’s gonna want to go to a ripper that actively puts you in pain?

“Of course, there are people who know this and are desperate enough to keep seeing them anyway, so I shouldn’t be too surprised that they stay in business. Still, you find any rippers that don’t use anesthesia, take my advice: avoid them like the plague. Nothing good can come from ‘em.”

His warning given, the ripperdoc stood and stretched his hands, glancing over at M before he made his way to the door. “You two get down to specifics. And if he does decide on another major install, let’s at least wait until the first one settles before we try anything, yeah?”

M nodded, and Vik left the two of them alone in his clinic for the second time that day.

“… so, is this gonna be a pattern or what?”

“I hope not,” M said with a sigh. “Talking to people about life-altering decisions after waking up on an operating table isn’t exactly something I had in mind when I became a Solo. I’m a hired gun, not a fucking nurse.”

“Yeah, that uniform would look terrible on you.”

M chuckled at the quip. “Yeah, I’d certainly be a sight in scrubs. Wouldn’t be caught dead in ‘em, though. Anyway, that’s not what we need to talk about.”

M took something off the table behind him: a box, metallic and square, entirely black except for the corsshair symbol on it’s face. Said crosshair was a bit cartoonish in desigh, done in white with four lines overlapping the outer circle with a single dot in the interior. It was simple, but striking.

“This isn’t something that I’ll push on you, and I’ll continue to train you even if you refuse. You can even agree to put it in later, if that’s your preference. If you do choose to install it, I suggest making that choice sooner rather than later. The sooner you get it in, longer you’ll have to adjust to it.”

“I don’t even know what it is yet,” Adrian said. “You make it sound… well, kinda dangerous.”

“That’s because if you’re not careful, it can be.” M drummed his fingers along the top of the box, grabbing at it’s edges and revealing the contents. “Feast your eyes on one of the finest Operating Systems you’ll ever see: the Dead-Eye Combat Analysis Regulation & Assistance Device.”

It was indeed a fine piece of hardware; Adrian could tell even with his right eye still missing. The first thing he noticed was the optic in the side of the plush packing: the sclera for it was entirely black, with the white crosshair on top of the box serving as both the iris and pupil. It looked intimidating at first glance, but seemed more like a cosmetic optic like what Rebecca had installed than anything super advanced. Still, appearances could be deceiving, and it probably hadn’t come in the same box as the Dead-Eye OS for no reason.

Said OS was sleek and advanced in it’s design. The main body was black, with the silvery sheen of the internals shining through breaks in the plates. Given the segmented nature of it, it really did seem to be an Operating System, looking like it would replaced specific parts of his spine in order get attached to his spinal nerve trunk, which all Operating Systems had to do in some capacity in order operate as intended. It was larger than the Civilian Standard OS that he had installed, but only looked long enough to travel the length of his neck, just past his collarbone. He figured that Vik would be able to adjust for that, if he decided to install it.

“Looks advanced,” Adrian noted. “Really advanced. And you don’t seem like the kind of guy who would just give this to me because you’re training me.”

M nodded. “You’d be right in that assessment. Truth be told, the reason I don’t have this thing installed myself is threefold. For one thing, I already have a Sandi installed, and I’m a bit attached to it. Secondly, it’s a little too flashy for my personal taste, even if the effects are particularly useful in a fight. And thirdly is that… well, it’s a Mrk 0.”

Adrian hissed in a breath at that. While Mrk 0s, otherwise referred to as prototype cyberware, weren’t unheard of, some of the stories involving them could be… gruesome, to put it mildly. Especially since many of them ended with the users of said prototypes going into early cyberpsychosis. Still, many advancements in cyberware had been made since most of those stories, and it was safer to use Mrk 0s than it had been way back when.

Still, just because it was safer didn’t mean that the danger was nonexistent. Adrian kept that in mind as he asked his next question. “What exactly does it do?”

“Something spec-fucking-tacular, kid,” M said with his version of a grin, which really just seemed to look like a wry smile. “It uses the most advanced parts of speedware and analytic neuralware to calculate odds and give you general advice on how to proceed in combat. Kinda like having eyes in the back of your head, but even better. I don’t know the exact details, but I do know that as it adapts to it’s user, it’ll gradually streamline reactions and reflexes, making them more efficient. I don’t really need something like that, but it should be something that speeds up the rate of your training significantly. There’s also… well, something odd about this piece.”

“… in what regard?”

“It, uh… well, my friend said something about giving it the ability to rewrite non-vital parts of it’s own code for the sake of streamlining the way it runs. I don’t know the specifics, but…”

Adrian picked up on the implications right away. “So, what you’re telling me that this thing will reduce the time required for my training significantly, and will probably be a major asset in the future with the analysis it’ll provide, but that it’s also a Mrk 0 and semi-autonomous to boot?”

“Yup. Again, this isn’t a choice I’ll force on ya. If you refuse, I’ll just put it back in the box.”

Adrian took a few moments to really consider this. It would probably be one of the biggest decisions of his life. On the one hand, the risk it proposed wasn’t staggering, but it was present. There was a chance that this could blow up in his face. On the other hand, the fact remained that Adrian needed to get strong fast. His minimal experience with violence beyond childhood brawls and the occasional non-deadly street fights in his teens would not serve him well in the Solo profession. He needed every advantage he could get his hands on. Why not take the risk? It wasn’t like becoming a Solo didn’t present even more of a risk than this thing.

As though to wipe out the last os his hesitation, his mind conjured Faraday’s sharp, spider-like appearance, tall and lithe and dangerous in his choice of corpo suit. His single brown eye and his three crimson ones looking down on him cruelly, as though he were little more than dirt that had dared to scuff his magnificently polished shoes. A spark of anger - a smoldering ember - reminded him of exactly what that man had done. What he deserved. He pushed it back, refusing to let the feeling overwhelm him. But though the heat was gone, the anger remained.

“A Mrk 0, huh?” Adrian asked, looking up at the ceiling for a few seconds, sighing as his head came back down to look at M. “Fine then. I’ll be your guinea pig. Let’s get it installed.”

M gave him a slight smile at those words, standing from his position against the wall and walking over to where Adrian still sat in the ripper’s chair. His hand went to a holster at his back, pulling out a certain Borg weapon. The weapon that had started all of this. 

Adrian took the Malorian in hand, finding the weapon easy to hold in his new, cybernetic right hand. He was almost tempted to aim the thing to test the sights, but he stopped himself. He looked back up at M, and the man gave him another wry smirk. 

“First, we’d better wait until your arm settles before we ask Vik to do the OS. After that… I hope you know how to swap that smartlink to wireless.”

May 24th, 2075

Night City, CA.

5:38 pm PST.

7 months before a certain car accident.

Adrian sighed as he slumped into the sofa, his exhaustion evident as he ran his regular left hand of his face. M was not a soft teacher. He certainly knew what he was doing, and taught Adrian well, but he expected nothing but the best from him. And to be fair, he gave it each and every time he was asked. That still didn’t make it easy, though.

“One of these days, I’m going to find a way to land a hit on him,” Adrian promised himself. He stretched in the chair, listening to his bones pop as he relieved the stress on them. His Dead-Eye OS was already helping him make improvements to his movements, allowing him to roughly, but surely adapt to M’s style of fighting over the course of the last four days. 

Of course, towards the end of today’s session, M had switched things up and Adrian had been taken entirely off guard. This just reinforced a fact in Adrian’s mind: he could not fight M at full tilt. The man was clearly already holding back for his sake, and the fact that he could switch things up so drastically only made him even more unpredictable and absolutely terrifying. Also, while Dead-Eye was an amazing tool and a true asset, he couldn’t use it as a crutch. Relying on it too much would make him less than useless without it. It also didn’t help that his pride was a bit too much to just let the thing call out shots for him. That was a bridge too far, in his mind.

“Twenty-eight thousand eddies…” It wasn’t a staggering amount of money, but it was still a lot, especially for him. To be entirely honest, he was lucky that M had put them up for free, at least for the month. He wasn’t sure he could handle paying for rent on top of everything else. Of course, he also hadn’t been on any gigs yet, so M would be deferring rent until he actually started getting work.

The place they were in now was a small apartment somewhere in Japantown. M had said that it was somewhere that got little attention, and given it’s location, Adrian was inclined to believe him. Still, while it was a little smaller than their house, it was large enough for Adrian and Maya to live in some form of comfort, fragile though it was. It also helped that it was on the other side of town from where their house had burned down. It made thing…easier. At least for him. He wasn’t sure about Maya. She barely did much of anything other than sleep anymore. He couldn’t blame her for that, but he was worried about her.

Adrian stood, heading to the bathroom with another grunt. He was still sticky with sweat from today’s training. Peeling off his clothes and tossing them to the floor, he immediately turned on the shower and started scrubbing himself down. Fifteen minutes later, the young man shut off the water, drying himself and wrapping a towel around his waist. He looked at himself in the mirror, as though he might find progress from the pas few days. 

Surprisingly, he did. Unsurprisingly, it was evidence of his injuries, compliments of M, which gave him a bit of frustration, but not towards his mentor. Rather, he was frustrated with himself for letting it happen in the first place. Still, the bruising around his ribs was already fading, and he could detect, just inside the outline of his lower torso, the beginnings of abs.

“Huh. Never thought I’d see that when I looked in the mirror,” Adrian mused to himself, taking in the rest of his appearance. Part of his short hair had been shortened even further into an undercut style, in order to make room for the Dead-Eye OS that was installed in his neck. Without the bandages covering his right eye, Adrian could fully see the burn scars that lined almost a quarter of his face. They were jagged and rough, but strangely pretty in the way that flames were. in fact, the scar reminded him of the shape of fire despite the puckered and mottled appearance of the scar tissue.

Honestly, his burn scar brought attention away from the optic that had been installed in place of his regular eye, which he supposed was a good thing. Lines of cyberware were barely noticeable against his skin. Vik had asked about whether or not he wanted to get realskin-grafts to draw attention away from it, but Adrian had declined. He wanted to remember how he had gotten those scars. There was no point in hiding them behind a fake veneer of artificial skin. It would always be there, in some capacity. He ought to at least remember why.

Still, Adrian took a moment to make sure Maya was still asleep, which she was, taking the opportunity to steal some clothes from their shared closet and change into something relatively comfortable. A plain grey t-shirt and dark pants, as he tended to wear before everything went down. It had been relatively easy to find on some street corner, and Maya had managed to grab a few things as well, though without enthusiasm. It saddened him greatly, seeing her like this.

He dressed himself quickly, grabbing some leftover takeout from the fridge and reheating it. Since they were in Japantown, one thing they had in abundance was access to noodle dishes like ramen and udon. It wasn’t the healthiest habit, eating this stuff, but it was better than nothing at all. Adrian just hoped that Maya would remember to eat today. 

Adrian slurped down the leftover noodles quickly, picking out the pieces of meat and tiny, leftover vegetables and eating them as well. Adrian wasn’t sure how that street vendor had managed to get their hands on synthetic vegetables, but it added flavor to the noodles that wouldn’t have been there otherwise. He was almost tempted to turn on the radio just to see what was on, but that might wake up Maya, and she didn’t need that today.

Instead, he quietly finished his dinner, took a can of NiCola out of the fridge, and went over to the only part of the space he didn’t share with Maya. The workbench had been here when M had brought them here, and when Adrian had asked why, the grizzled man had simply explained that it had come with the place and didn’t ask any other questions. And that was a pretty good policy when it came to these things, most of the time.

“Fucking hell… you’re gonna kill me one of these days,” Adrian muttered as he sat down at the workbench, soda in hand. On said workbench was the thing that had been giving him a headache that, as of that evening, had lasted nearly three days. The Malorian sat there, the handle mostly disassembled, the chamber, barrel and firing mechanism all still intact as Adrian had tried, and failed, to update the smartlink without ripping it out and putting in a new one altogether. 

He sighed, rubbing at the back of his neck near his neural port. The one that held the Shard his mother had given to him in her last moments. Guilt ran through him like a fire, shaking the weariness from him as he tried to focus on swapping it out.

M had been gracious in his providing of the parts Adrian would need to swap out the smart link properly. It had also been added to his not inconsiderable debt, a risk that he was forced to take on because of the weapon’s semi-ancient nature, by Night City standards. While jacking into the weapon every time he needed to use it sounded cool, it was also time consuming and an obvious tell that shit was about to go down. Also, it was clunky as hell. Style, no matter how important for your rep, wouldn’t mean jack shit if you were dead. Besides, he didn’t have a personal link in his cyberarm; it couldn’t be fit in there with the pre-installed smartlink. 

Going wireless was something that Adrian had to do for practicality’s sake as well as his own. If he needed the thing in a sudden moment, he couldn’t afford be fumbling around with a link. If he did, he’d probably die. Unfortunately, his hatred for all smart weapons had come back to bite him in the ass, in this case. He had absolutely no idea how to install a smartlink, let alone change a wired one from the twenty twenties to a wireless one from now without taking out the interface matrix. If he took that out, the datakey in his head would be basically useless.

“I really need a teacher for this shit…” Adrian muttered to himself as he looked over the blueprints in his head again. Malour’s notes in this respect were numerous, and Adrian found himself searching through the notes he made on the prototype smartlink once more. There wasn’t a lot here, and nothing to indicate that he’d even begun to think of switching it out to wireless. Still, Adrian searched, even if he knew it was pointless. 

Maybe he should find someone to help him with this. But who? It wasn’t like there were any weapon’s dealers or technicians who wouldn’t sooner shoot him and take the Malorian for themselves rather than help him get it up to modern standards.

That was when the door to his workshop hissed open, causing him to jump in startled surprise. When he turned, he was both relieved and surprised to see his sister standing there, dark hair a tangled mess and her face looking unwashed, a blanket draped over her figure. 

“Hey sis. Did I wake you up?”

She shook her head ‘no,’ simply looking at him with that black, thousand yard stare that he had seen in her eyes all too often.

“Well, uh… did you want to get something to eat? Should be some ramen still in the fridge.”

Maya shook her head again, pointing over Adrian’s shoulder towards the partially disassembled Malorian. Adrian looked back at it, a sheepish smile on his face. “Yeah, guess my loathing of smart weapons came back to bite me, huh? Can’t figure out how to swap it out for the life of my. The interface matrix is fine; it’s the rest of the link that needs to get replaced.”

Maya was silent as she walked over to the workbench, immediately taking parts of the smartlink into her hands and fiddling around with them. Adrian raised an eyebrow as he watched her work, careful to make sure that she didn’t do anything that might compromise the link’s original purpose. 

Before long, Maya had completely swapped out all of the parts required for the smart link to function with the sole exception of the interface matrix. It sat in almost the same position on the handle as it had before, only with newer parts to replace the old and reconfigured to make it a bit more organized. Adrian was honestly shocked at the result. He hadn’t known his sister knew how to do something like this, let alone do it so quickly.

“How…?” he asked in astonishment. 

“… Net,” she answered, tone flat, as though it were obvious. “Got bored. Looked fun.”

Adrian sighed. He really shouldn’t have been surprised. His sister had always been interested in smartweapons, to some degree. He wanted to ask questions, get specifics and make sure that she’d been careful, but he stopped himself. Bombarding her with stuff like that, especially ow that she’d shown some signs of life beyond simple wakefulness would only make things worse.

“Okay,” Adrian said, letting it go for the moment. “Did you want to do anything tonight? Maybe watch some TV or something?”

Maya wrung her hands together as she looked down to the floor, face still blank. She nodded once in affirmation, and that was all they needed. Adria reheated some more food, and the two siblings found themselves on the couch, watching the latest round of Night City bullshit that got put on the airwaves. It wasn’t the content that really interested them, though. It was the company that they really wanted. For just a little while, things felt like normal again. And in that moment, Adrian couldn’t have asked for anything more than that.

May 26th, 2075

Night City, CA.

2:30 pm PST.

6 months and 3 weeks before a certain car accident.

Adrian was slammed bodily to the ground for the fourth time that session, and mentally slapped himself for trying something that stupid. While Dead-Eye was a pretty good passive tool to in combat, it had two major downsides when Adrian tried to use it’s active calculations. One was the fact that it ran hot ludicrously fast, so if Adrian used it actively for too long, he wouldn’t be able to use any of it’s functions at all for at least a few hours, maybe longer if he was particularly unlucky. 

Second was the fact that it had a rather annoying habit of providing way too much information for him to process in a timely fashion. This thing was certainly a Mrk 0, alright. Still, the main problem with the information wasn’t to do with the hardware itself. In fact, the OS seemed to be working perfectly as intended. It was just that, instead of providing the information in a streamlined fashion that he could quickly comprehend and act upon, it provided him with all of the variables it could calculate at once. Considering the fact that he was neither a supercomputer nor a mathematician, this was not great for immediate responses in the middle of combat.

Still, it wasn’t as though there weren’t uses for the thing’s active nature. He’d just have to pick his moments and use it sparingly. Extremely sparingly. Information overload caused him a massive headache.

“I think that’s enough of close combat training, for now,” M said, the muscle shirt he had on not even so much as spotted with drop of sweat. Adrian wasn’t surprised. In all the training sessions they’d partaken in, the man had yet to so much as get winded. “You good to move on to target practice?”

“… gimme a minute…” Adrian groaned as he rolled off of his back. As much as he had improved over the past week, he was still very much an amateur. A fast-learning amateur perhaps, but still an amateur. “I think you nearly broke some ribs with that last throw.”

“If I broke your ribs, kid, you wouldn’t even be able to speak right now,” M retorted as he threw him a gym towel. “Wipe yourself down. And bring both your guns. You’ll be learning the main difference between ‘em today, beyond the obvious.”

Adrian raised a brow under the towel he was using to clear his face of sweat. Sure, he’d brought the Malorian today, but he hadn’t thought that M would ask him to bring both of them. 

He didn’t argue, though, standing from the ground and grabbing the Malorian and the firearm that M had given to him, a Constitutional Arms Liberty. It was colored a standard black, like most firearms one could find in gun stores, and utilized a standard ammunition that basically all handguns used. 

Adrian holstered the Liberty at his side and the Malorian at his back. He had been thinking about giving them names, but that seemed a little tacky, and not like something that M would totally approve of. Still the thought had come up more than once. Maybe he should start considering it?

He turned and joined M at the other end of the warehouse. In Northside Watson, there were various industrial warehouses that sat either unused or wholly abandoned after they’d been used to their fullest. Of course, some corporations kept places like this ‘just in case,’ but a lot of the places where they actually stored things were located nearer to southern Watson rather than Northside, with a few exceptions for stuff that needed to be kept on the down-low.

M nodded at Adrian in approval, and the young man quickly fell into step with his mentor. The grizzled man sighed as he looked at Adrian, and started speaking. “A few thing before we start. First being that I am not an expert with handguns. Yes, I’m damn good with any kind of firearm, but I prefer assault rifles and heavy ordinance overall. I can still make you damn deadly with ‘em, if that’s what you want.”

Adrian nodded. M had made this point a few times, saying there there was an upper limit on how good he could make Adrian with his chosen weapons. He didn’t quite understand why he was making this point over and over, but Adrian wasn’t about to interrupt him again. M… did not enjoy being interrupted.

“Now, I want you to take your Liberty and hit as many of the targets as you can as fast as you can,” M said, gesturing to the makeshift practice range he had assembled. “You’ll have twenty seconds.”

Adrian nodded silently, pulling his Liberty from it’s holster and making sure he had spare magazines out and ready to use. The practice range had targets you would see at a standard range, juryrigged to the ceiling of the warehouse to fold down at semi-random intervals. Adrian had never managed to hit all of them, even when Dead-Eye had worked as originally intended for the first time the previous day. He just wasn’t fast enough yet.

Since M hadn’t specified Dead-Eye’s use, Adrian would leave it on passive for the moment. Even beyond information overload headaches, the device running hot wasn’t quite metaphorical. It stung like a bitch to use it actively for too long. He aimed down the sights of his pistol, adjusting his grip and his trigger finger, ready to begin at the slightest disturbance. 

“Begin.”

The first target dropped, and Adrian fired on it immediately, the bullet bouncing off the metal of the target, hitting the painted figure dead-center in the chest. The next dropped, this time at a higher angle, but Adrian hit that one too, this time in the shoulder rather than the chest.This time, two targets dropped at once, both on opposite sides of the range. Adrian shot the one to the left, which was closer by a wide Margin, and carefully aimed at the second one to his right. His first shot missed the figure entirely, but he managed to land the second one head between the figure’s eyes. 

On and on this went, Adrian managing to hit most of his shots and only missing each target once. At the end, he had hit twenty six of his shots and missed only seven of them.

“Time,” M said, looking at Adrian with a raised brow. “More missed shots than yesterday. Something up?”

“No, just… Dead-Eye worked like it was supposed to yesterday, so it made things easier. Helped me hit my shots, even if I couldn’t get all of ‘em. Still not sure why, though.”

M nodded. “Well, we’ve been exploring the basic limitations of Dead-Eye for a reason, ain’t we? Anyway, grab your Malorian. And try to hit as many of your targets as you can. Twenty seconds again.”

Adrian did as instructed, pulling out the Malorian from the back holster and getting into a firing stance. Despite the fact that there was less overall mass to the Malorian than his Liberty, this gun felt… heavier. More significant. Like something was about to happen.

Adrian waited for M’s signal, and started once more. He fired once, twice, thrice, and many more times in the twenty seconds alotted to him. But unlike with the Liberty, the Malorian punched through each and every target that he aimed at, like the metal wasn’t even there. He supposed that was a signature aspect of Borg weapons, being a perfect fushion of Power and Tech weaponsry that could only be wielded with sufficient cbernetics to offset them, but damn. Even if this thing couldn’t punch straight through a tank like some higher caliber Borg weapons could, it could definitely shred through most body armor like no one’s business.

“So… what’s the difference beyond the stopping power?” M asked. 

Adrian thought on this for a moment. While the Liberty was a good handgun, and certainly reliable, it wasn’t a particularly powerful weapon, and would likey be stopped by most body armor. Thankfully, most people who would be shooting at him wouldn’t be using body armor, so it would be good for most situations. He would need it, considering the fact that he wanted to keep himself on the down-low for a while. Just a new Solo on the scene looking for some jobs to do.

The Malorian was a powerful handgun. But despite the fact that it could kill most things in a single shot, and the fact that it was a Borg weapon, it was still exactly that: a handgun. Even the fact that it used specific ammunition wasn’t enough to offset that fact. Against someone with higher-caliber Borg weaponry, the Malorian would lose out nine times out of ten.

It was still an ace in the hole, though. An ace he would have to be careful about using if he wanted to keep that ‘new Solo’ rep he wanted to cultivate.

“The Malorian is too distinct, and can sometimes draw attention even in the middle of a firefight,” he said. “If people I don’t trust surive a shootout where I use it, word might spread and suddenly I’m the talk of the town. Which isn’t a good thing for a Solo who’s just starting out.”

M nodded. “Yup. What else?”

“… ammo?”

“Correct,” M said, holding up a single bullet that Adrian had seen in the magizines for the Malorian. “The Malorian fires a specialized type of ammunition that most people don’t sell, and the ones that do seel it at a pretty high rate. Lucky for you, I happen to know someone who’s generously agreed to supply us with this type of ammo at a discount while you’re under my tutelage.”

“… I’m sensing a ‘but’ at the end of that sentence?”

M nodded. “But once we go our seperate ways - and that’ll happen sooner or later - you’ll be on your own for getting this ammo. That’s how I’d like it to be, anyway. Finding a supplier won’t be easy, and finding one that’ll give you the stuff a discount will be damn near impossible. So start looking soon. Or at the very least, keep your eyes peeled, and hang on to any favors you get. Those can soemtimes be worth a whole lot more than number of eddies.”

Adrian acknowledged the point. The ammo for the Malorian wasn’t an immediate problem, but it would be an imminent one if he couldn’t find his own supplier.

“I don’t suppose you’d be kind enough to tell me who your supplier is?” he asked, not expectng an actual answer.

M shook his head, a wry smile on his face. “Nope. You don’t need that much help, Adrian. No one does. It’s an insult to both of us to assume otherwise.”

“… feels weird, y’know,” Adrian said, looking at the weapon in his hands. “The fact that I have this in my hand. I mean, I had a few fantasies where I was this badass Solo with a Malorian in hand, unstoppable in every way. Now I’ve got it here in my hand and… I feel like this or Dead-Eye might become crutches I rely on too much, if I use them every time I’m in a bind. Like I failed somehow. Does that make sense?”

M gave Adrian an odd, indecipherable look that he couldn’t place. It worred him a bit,m that his mentor could take on those placid, neutral expressions that revealed nothing but what he wanted you to see. Eventually, after several seconds, the man spoke. 

“There are no such things as crutches in this line of work, Adrian,” M said. “Only tools. And any tool used improperly or as a get out of jail free card is not a true tool. It is a weakness. I will endeavor to ensure that, even without the Malorian or the Dead-Eye OS or even your cyberarm, you’ll still be a force to be reckoned with. Even if you have little more than a Slaut-O-matic or a BB gun.”

Adrian chuckled at that. “A BB gun? You want to make me so dangerous I can kill with a BB gun?”

“You’d be surprised what BBs can do to a man if you aim at just the right spot,” M said, a slightl shiver going up his spine. That… was a first. “So much blood… nasty.”

Adrian decided to not pry into any BB related horror that his mentor had on the brain. Instead, he focused on the other weapon that he had described. “You sure I can even use a Slaut-O-matic to kill… anything? Everyone collectively agrees they’re pretty fucking useless except as an absolute last resort.”

“That depends. What iron did you sell before everything went down?”

“… a seocndhand Unity,” he admited with shame.

M’s laughter echoed through the warehouse as Adrian buried his face in his hands, embarassment clear on his face.

June 3rd, 2075

Night City, CA.

8:12 am PST.

6 months and 2 weeks before a certain car accident.

Adrian rolled his shoulders as he tried to relax. It didn’t work completely, but his shoulders were at least less tense than they’d been just a minute ago. Again, he checked himself over for the fourth time that morning. His Liberty was at it’s proper place at his hip, as was the Malorian, holstered underneath a nondescript crystaljock bomber jacket at his back, just in case. His t-shirt was dark and plain, contrasting the neon red color that lined the collar of the jacket well, with a pair of grey cargo pants over a pair of dark steel-toed combat boots. M had been especially prudent on that point, and Adrian had to agree. Combat boots could rarely hurt a situation, especially if that situation was a shootout.

Before him was the location for his first job: a Scav hideout made out of a ramshackle, two-story building that looked as though it may have once tried it’s hand at being a hotel before falling into disuse and disrepair. 

“You’re new blood, but I need this to get done fast,” Regina’s voice said as it came over the holo. “Shouldn’t be too dangerous, anyway. I need you to retrieve a marked piece of cyberware. A hazard symbol that someone stuck on there for flair.”

“I get the feeling that this guy thought this might happen. What am I getting, anyway?”

“You’ll know it when you see it.”

“… is it a Mr. Studd-?”

“No, it’s not a Mr. Studd implant!”

“Oh thank fuck! That would’ve been awkward.”

“Anyway, like I said, you’ll know it when you see it. If they have a collection of cyberarms in there, you might want to take a look in there.”

“Am I dealing with specialists?”

“Scavs already specialize in kidnapping and organ and cyberware harvesting, so I gues you could say that.”

“Fair enough. Any particular way you want me to take care of this?”

“Nah. Make as much noise as you damn well please - just get that cyberarm back.”

“Got it. Talk to you in bit.”

The call cut off, and Adrian faced the hotel again. He rolled his shoulders a second time, breathing in and out in a steady pattern that he hoped would bring calm. He looked at the location, the fingers on his cybernetic hand rolling in response to his anticipation. So, with a huff and a determined glare, he drew his Liberty from his side and walked towards his first job as a newly minted Solo. He just hoped he would survive it.

Adrian Walker’s Status:

LEVEL: 2 → 4

SREET CRED: 1

€$: 0

Stats and Skills:

BODY: 3

Athletics: Lvl 1

Annihilation: Lvl 1

Street Brawler: Lvl 2

REFLEX: 5 → 6

Assault: Lvl 1

Handguns: Lvl 2 → 3

Blades: Lvl 1

TECH: 5 → 6

Crafting: Lvl 2 → 3

Engineering: Lvl 1

INTELLIGENCE: 3

Breach Protocol: Lvl 1

Quickhacking: Lvl 1

COOL: 6

Ninjitsu: Lvl 1

Cold Blood: Lvl 3

Notable Cyberware:

FORNTAL CORTEX: None | None | None 

OCCULAR SYSTEM: None → Dead-Eye Optic 

CIRCULATORY SYSTEM: None | None | None

IMMUNE SYSTEM: None | None

NERVOUS SYSTEM: None | None

INTEGUMENTARY SYSTEM: None | None | None

OPERATING SYSTEM: Civilian Standard → Dead-Eye Combat Analysis Regulation & Assistance Device [Mrk 0]

SKELETON: None | None

HANDS: None

ARMS: None → Military Grade Arasaka Cyberarm

LEGS: None

Chapter Text

Adrian didn’t approach the rundown hotel from the front, as others might. Instead, he started by observing the other entrances, and found three which he could use. One was, of course, the main entrance. Probably the one that a more reckless, cocky soul would use and get shot up immediately. Or maybe the quietly confident types too, like M. 

After that, there was an adjacent building which he could use to just barely get over to the other side, and slip in that way, flanking them from above. Of course, Adrian wasn’t sure he had the jump distance to quite make it, which would inevitably lead to him falling and potentially breaking several bones. Or his neck.

That left the last entrance: an old gate that wasn’t electronic in nature. In fact, it looked to be on hinges. Adrian was pretty sure he could open that thing in a couple of seconds. and without making too much noise. So, he scurried over to the gate, thankful that the Scavs had ignored the place, using it as a place to store some miscellaneous crates rather than somewhere that needed active attention. 

That wasn’t to say that they weren’t dangerous, but he did think that this was a major oversight on their part. Someone could just break the lock, like he was doing now, and slip inside their base with barely a sound. He knew that the Scavs were a fairly mixed bag, since their numbers were pretty widespread despite the fact that they were mostly Russian, but he thought at least one of them would be smart enough to think that this was a possibility.

Well, Scavs aren’t exactly known for making wise decisions. Otherwise they’d be even more dangerous than they already are.

Adrian stepped into the the rear of the base in a crouch, Liberty drawn with his finger held at the, pressing into the trigger guard. It wouldn’t do to have them notice him just because he happened to twitch and fired off a preemptive shot. He didn’t want to get shot at just yet.

From the details on the job that Regina had sent over after the call, there would be about seven Scavs total here. It wasn’t a whole lot, but considering the size of the rundown hotel, he wasn’t surprised by their low numbers. They still outnumbered him by a lot, so anything he could do to thin the herd beforehand would be prudent to his success. 

Adrian quickly found himself at the back of the building once more, pulling out a screwdriver to take the panel off of the latch and cut it loose. Once he did that, he slid the door quietly across it’s frame and slipped inside, careful to quietly shut the door behind him. From the look of things, it seemed that he’d entered through a janitor’s backdoor, the one that the custodians would use to get easy access to the dumpster and dispose of whatever trash bags had accumulated that day. Again, there were no Scavs back here, but that was no reason to assume that someone wouldn’t come and check on this place periodically, at the very least. 

His steps were small, but quiet, and his steady progress eventually brought him to a corner. He peeked around it for a brief second, finding that the hallway he was currently in led to the main lobby of the space, with the check-in desk still mostly intact, if also under extreme disrepair. There were also a pair of Scavs conversing just around said corner in Russian. 

While most people would need auto-translator programs uploaded into basic optics to understand them, Adrian actually knew several of the languages most Night City natives used, though he was most fluent in his native English and his second language of Spanish, considering just how large the Latino community was in NC. He could hold basic conversations in Japanese and Russian, and even knew bits of Haitian Creole, but that mostly amounted to single-word phrases like ‘Hello,’ ‘Goodbye,’ and ‘Fuck You.’ The three basics required for any kind of communication in Night City.

“Is Artyom doing alright? I heard he’s been skipping his immuno-blockers again.”

“As alright as anyone can. We warned him to ease into it, but he was never going to listen to us.”

“He hasn’t listened to anyone since Anya got flatlined.”

“Shame, that. She was a bitch and a slave-driver, but she knew her shit. And she could fuck the crazy out of Artyom. At least enough that it stopped him from going full chrome-junkie.”

“Mm. Bitch though she may have been on the job… I miss that cunt.”

“Me too. Anyway, it’s your turn to check around back, yeah?”

“Ugh. Don’t remind me. It smells terrible back there.”

“Really? Wasn’t sure you could notice.”

“Fuck you, I smell perfectly normal.”

“Tell that to the joytoys.”

“Fuck. You.”

“I don’t swing that way, man; you know this.”

Adrian stepped back from the corner, switching off the light near the doorway and hiding near it’s frame. He quickly holstered his pistol at his side and got ready to try and pull off a silent takedown. M had showed him the basics of the technique a few days ago, and had Adrian practice until he was at least at a point that the man said was ‘adequate, if amateur.’ At least he wouldn’t accidentally snap anyone’s neck. Those first few trial runs had… not gone well, to say the least.

As the man stepped past Adrian’s hiding place, likely becoming so used to the route that the finer details slipped past him. By the time his surprise at the changes could register, even through his holographic mask, Adrian’s cybernetic hand was locked around his throat, his organic hand held over his mouth to cut off any screams of surprise as he dragged the Scav back into the janitor’s hallway.

“Nothing personal,” he whispered in Russian. The man tried to scream, shout, swear, or do anything the make noise and drawn attention. His legs kicked out in desperation as he tried to reach one of his arms behind him towards Adrian’s face while the other tried, and failed, to remove the chokehold around his neck. He glared down at the man who could so casually converse with another of his ilk while they sat in a den of harvested organs and cyberware, bodies disposed of like candy wrappers. It disgusted him.

“Well… maybe a little personal.”

Adrian tightened his right arm even further, and heard the steady crack, crack, CRACK of the bones in his neck breaking, his windpipe crushed beyond repair or replacement. His wet coughs were nearly silent as he was lowered to the ground with little grace. He’d receive no comfort from Adrian. The man would die in less than a minute. Maybe a bit longer, if he was lucky, but there would be no saving him.

Adrian had thought that he would feel something after taking a human life. That he would freeze up in realization of what he’d done or feel some part of himself die. It was how most of the books he'd read had described a character taking their first life, anyway. He didn’t feel any of that. It felt easy. He hadn’t changed. He hadn’t made some life-altering discovery about himself. The Scav was in the way, and actively chose to be part of a group that preyed on other people. 

The fact that it was so easy did scare him a bit. He didn’t feel guilty, but that might well be a problem. But he wasn’t totally unprepared. M had told him that taking his first life would happen, and that it might be better for it to happen sooner rather than later. This was Night City, after all. Only the filthy rich or the truly fortunate could afford to eat with unbloodied hands. And even then, occasional spatter speckled their food with red despite their efforts.

Adrian eased out of those thoughts and stepped forward again in the crouch, ignoring the slight burn in his knees and calves at the unnatural posture as he peeked around the corner to make sure that struggle hadn’t been heard. Considering the fact that no one was looking for any kind of disturbance, he had been successful on that account. He crept back to the corner he had been across last, and found the other Scav leaning against the desk, his back turned to the hallway as he whistled a jaunty little tune to himself. Probably some kind of Russian lullaby that he couldn’t discern.

He crept up behind him, careful to make sure that he didn’t step on anything that would make a lot of noise. It could be difficult to sneak around in combat boots, but M had taught him the trick to it. It also helped that he was already naturally light-footed, if only subconsciously. 

Eager to get this second Scav out of the way, Adrian stepped just a bit faster, his cyberarm eager to snap another neck as he slowly stood up, extending his hand and -

SNAP!

A loose piece of flooring, so small that he hadn’t noticed it, broke with a sound that made Adrian wince internally. The Scav started to turn, startled by the noise, and Adrian trid to salvage the situation the only he thought he could in that moment. He punched that Scav as hard as he could with his cyberarm.

The crunch of breaking bone and shattered teeth were not as loud as the man’s firearm, whose trigger he had pulled by reflex on the way down. Swearing under his breath, and knowing that there would be little point in continuing to go in quietly, Adrian pulled out his Liberty and shot the Scav twice. Once in the chest, once in the head. To make sure that he wouldn’t be getting back up despite the bloody mess Adrian had made of his face. 

He slid back behind the desk, not bothering to try and hide the corpse on the other side of the desk. It was already too late for that. He could hear footsteps and shouting in Russian that was already getting closer. Before long, three of the remaining five members of this Scav outpost were back in the same space, and they sounded pretty pissed off.

Adrian slowly peeked over the edge of the check-in desk, careful to make as little noise as possible before he aimed at the closest Scav. She was in ratty street clothes, as were the rest of the Scavs with her, who each carried some variation of a Unity or a Copperhead as their primary firearm. They were currently sweeping the room for intruders, and one of them was actually kneeling near the body of the guy that Adrian had just shot.

Unwilling to let caution dictate his course of action any longer, Adrian aimed and fired at the first Scav. Her head was jerked violently to the side as the bullet passed through it with barely any resistance, her body falling to the ground in a heap. 

The other two Scavs reacted by immediately going for cover or trying to blind-fire in his general direction. They missed, instead hitting the desk as Adrian got back behind cover. They fired at the spot for a few more seconds while Adrian quickly thought to how much ammo he had left in his current mag. He’d only made one shot, so he should have about thirteen rounds left overall. Hopefully, he’d be able to take these two out without having to reload.

When the bullets stopped flying, Adrian waited two seconds. When they didn’t start firing on his position immediately after they were up, he knew that they were reloading. With that as his starting signal, Adrian twisted his body and leapt over the desk, abandoning cover and darting straight for the one with the Copperhead assault rifle. His sudden appearance from behind cover must’ve startled him mid-reload, because he immediately fumbled with the magazine and failed to get it in properly. Adrian took full advantage of this by shooting him five times in quick succession. That left about eight bullets left in his gun, which meant eight bullets for Mr. Unity over there in the corner.

When said Scav peeked out of his hiding spot, Adrian took a shot at him, which went wide as he snapped back into cover just before the bullet could take him in the skull. Adrian cursed as he knelt, still aiming at that same spot, listening for any movements that he might be making. A second passed. Then another. As the silence got to be a bit too much, Adrian tried to get another angle on the guy.

A bullet thudded into the wall next to him, and Adrian immediately moved back into cover as the next few shots dug into the wall. Counting the shots, he waited until the man ran out and started to reload. Then, Adrian found his moment to strike. He dove forward and shot at the man, catching him three times in the shoulder and twice in the chest. Two bullets left, and the guy wasn’t down yet. 

But that was a problem that was quickly resolved, as the shots had caused him to drop his weapon in the rush of pain coursing through his arm. When he tried to back away, it was all the opportunity that Adrian needed to take those last two shots, his clip empty and everyone before him dead.

… huh. I honestly thought that’d be-

A bullet grazed his shoulder and his side before he could finish that thought, causing him to dive forward for cover next to the man he had just killed. He rolled to his back, sitting up and putting his back to the wall as he released the empty magazine from his weapon.

But before he could load the next one that Scav came around the corner with his gun raised, ready to kill him. Adrian dropped his own weapon in a moment of panic and took the Scav’s pistol in his cybernetic hand just before it went off, a loud bang sounding out before he wrenched it from the man’s hand and punched him in the face in a single motion. 

He used his left hand, which, in hindsight, was a mistake, as it gave the man a brief chance to recover and lash out with a kick. It caught Adrian in the gut, clearing his lungs of breath as he was slammed into the wall he’d been using as cover. The Scav tried to capitalize on this, lunging forward with hands extended for his throat, a wicked gleam visible even through the holographic mask.

Adrian sidestepped it, taking a breath as the man’s fingers collided painfully with the wall. Before he could recover, Adrian brought his cyberarm up, grabbed the back of the man’s head, and slammed his face into the wall. The he did it again. And again. And again. Until, finally, he slammed the Scav’s face with such force that it caused the wall to indent in a crater that held the man’s face. 

Breathing heavily, Adrian stooped down to grab his Liberty, loaded another magazine, made sure everything was properly loaded, and shot the man four times. Twice in the back, and twice in the head. No chances for any comeback bullshit. Nope. None of that. Not on his watch. If you wanted someone dead, you fucking double tap. M had drilled that into his head relentlessly over the last two weeks, and Adrian was damn sure not going to forget it anytime soon.

Adrian mentally tallied the number of bodies all around him. Six, including the Scav that he’d managed to take out quietly at the start. That left the last one, probably this ‘Artyom’ that those first two Scavs had been talking about earlier. Based on the context clues from that conversation, and the fact that none of the Scavs he’d seen so far had any notable chrome beyond an occasional Gorilla Arms, it was the only logical conclusion to come to.

Still, I should be careful with that one. Maybe avoid him entirely. From the sounds of it, he’s almost fallen off the deep end of cyberpsychosis. I can’t say I’m surprised. Only junkies I know who haven’t somehow given in to that are Maelstrom, and I’m pretty sure most of them are already some kind of crazy, so how the hell would you be able to tell anyway?

Adrian also wasn’t sure how the man would react to finding out all of his friends were did, but he didn’t want to stick around to find out. Instead, he crept upstairs, no longer in a crouch. If he wanted to get out of there fast, it would be prudent for him to not be so close to the floor. Checking his corners as he went up, he started searching each of the rooms, the veneer of nice wallpaper peeling away as dust and rot ate into the sheets and mattresses of the beds. It was a similar sight for most of rooms in this place, though one did have a couple of Bounce Backs that hadn’t expired.

Making sure that the needle was clean beforehand, Adrian jammed the medicine into his shoulder and sighed in relief as the stinging pain of the clipped gunshots faded away. He was thankful that he hadn’t gotten a bullet lodged anywhere. That would’ve been significantly more painful. Plus, he didn’t have a knife on him to dig it out. 

The bleeding, slight though it was, stopped and he continued searching. When he came to the last room in the motel, Adrian was honestly about to give up hope. He really didn’t want to say that this job was a bust, but it seemed like this place was extremely barebones, even for a Scav outpost. 

As he opened the door to the last room, Adrian realized why.

“Damn… these fuckers must have some weird fetishes.”

Hands. Literal piles of cybernetic hands. It was like a diorama to the appendage in one of the most grotesque fashions imaginable. Some of them didn’t even look like they’d been cut off - like someone had ripped them right out of the sockets. From metallic to realskin covered, they were, one and all, hands. It was gross, and Adrian probably would’ve felt sick if M hadn’t forced him to focus so singularly on specific tasks so often for these exact kinds of situations. His disgust could wait until the job was done.

Holstering his Liberty at his side, since he hadn’t heard their last member anywhere near this floor, he started searching the piles of hands for the one he was looking for. As it turned out, the fact that there were so many goddamn hands to pick through made the process unnecessarily hard. 

“Really wish these bastards had a labeling system or something..” Adrian muttered to himself, tossing a realskin hand over his shoulder as he continued to search for what he had been sent over for. Until, a few minutes later, he finally found it.

“… well, Regina definitely wasn’t wrong,” he muttered again as he examined the cybernetic hand in his grasp. It was metallic and painted a bright, almost neon yellow with the pattern of a hazard symbol contrasting against it in black. It was bizarre, to say the least. and not at all conducive to a stealthy escape. Adrian put it in the interior pocket of his jacket, making sure it was secure there as he stood up. “But fucking hell, couldn’t the guy have chosen a different pattern or something? This is just-”

Before he could finish that though, something crashed through the floor, and Adrian was knocked bodily from the room.

Adrian must’ve only been out for a couple of seconds, his mind foggy as he struggled to get his bearings. He was on asphalt, so he was likely somewhere in the parking lot of the abandoned hotel. He could move alright, so he hadn’t broken any bones. He fumbled at his side of his Liberty, finding that it was somehow still in the holster.

He didn’t have nearly enough time to check his back for the Malorian, because whoever the fuck had sent him through the wall was rocketing towards him at speed and not slowing down.

He gained enough of his wits back to roll out of the way, the impact of the figure’s foot echoing through the space so fast that it nearly deafened him. Adrian managed to get his Liberty out in time to catch a look at the cyberpsycho, and quickly found something unusual. The man was Caucasian, with sharper features and blonde hair that would make most people think ‘American,’ though he knew from his companions, and his name of 'Artyom,' that he was Russian. His clothes, or what little was left of them, consisted of a black and white tracksuit and tank top that most Scavs wore some variation of. Some of his cyberware was… haphazard. LIke they’d been grafted on by an amateur rather than an actual ripperdoc. The implants that could be reasonably construed as professionally done; the eyes, arms and legs, were all well fitted and looked consistent with his frame. The bulky, almost misshapen mass of his torso and the rough scars all across his body suggested that such implants had been added by someone who was less than an amateur.

“… they were right. Your output really did fuck the crazy out of you,” he said under his breath, thinking back to that conversation between the first two Scavs he had come across.

It seemed he hadn’t been quiet enough, however, as the man’s cybernetic eyes quickly locked on to him. Adrian cursed and readied himself for a tough fight. Even if he could outrun the cyberpsycho, which was doubtful considering the fact that he had properly installed leg implants, he wasn’t sure if he would give up the chase or just keep coming after him until he’d caught up and filled him with lead. Cyberpsychos were unpredictable at the best of times, and he couldn’t take the chance that someone that mentally unstable with a shit ton of chrome in their body wouldn’t choose the more violent route. 

This is going to suck.

Adrian immediately started firing on the man, finding that he had installed some pretty high-grade Gorilla Arms that assisted him in lifting one of the many car husks that were still in the parking lot. He dove behind one, the other missing him be a few feet as metal crunched and shrieked in stress at the throw. That had already been close, and the fight was just starting.

Gotta keep him at a distance. That’s my only chance of getting out of here. There was no way, in hell or otherwise, that he was going to survive this fight otherwise. Sure, he had a cyberarm of his own to match against the guy if push came to shove, but just the one, and it wasn’t specifically designed for blocking or punching.

Adrian almost reached for the Malorian, almost took that chance with the weapon. It wasn’t like the cyberpsycho would be leaving this place alive. Or, at the very least, one of them wouldn’t be. If ever there was a time to use, it should be now. But some part of him told him to wait. Whether it was his pride or intuition of just plain instinct, he stayed his hand, for the moment. 

The cyberpsycho started darting for his position, and Adrian fired at him again. This time, his bullets caught, two pinging off of his arms while a third grazed his cheek. The figure just snarled as he raced forward again, his arm cocked back in a haymaker motion. Adrian was forced to sidestep at the last moment, feeling the force of the blow displace air as it passed, leaving him slightly off balance as he responded with a backhanded blow from his metallic hand. He was lucky that his instinct had guided him well, as the blow sent the man reeling back for a single step. Adrian managed to regain his balance and started firing at him again, this time with less care for where his shots landed. When they were this close, there was little doubt they would hit their marks.

After three successful shots, one in the torso, shoulder, and the side of the cyberpsycho’s neck, Adrian’s Liberty gave a slight click. Fuck. Out of ammo. And at the worst possible time.

The cyberpsycho quickly darted forward despite his gaping injuries, grin wide and vicious as he grabbed for Adrian’s jacket, fingers finding purchase as he pulled him in. He punched him once in the gut, knocking the wind straight out of him as his body crumpled around the man’s fist. His ribs felt dangerously close to breaking, the needles of pain overwhelming as he was launched off the man’s fist by the sheer force of the blow.

Somehow, Adrian managed to turn that momentum into a roll, coming to a stop at the far end of the parking lot against, you guessed it, another fucking husk of a car. How many of these damn things were here, anyway? Gritting his teeth, Adrian searched for his Liberty, only to find that he had lost his hold on it. He must’ve dropped it when he was punched by the cyberpsycho. And from the looks of things, he wasn’t going to be getting it back anytime soon. 

Bringing his left hand across his body to cradle his ribs, Adrian sucked in a breath with a wheeze, reaching to his back and pulling the Malorian from it’s holster. His cybernetic hand fit around the weapon easily, like it had been made for it, and the young man aimed straight for the cyberpsycho, who, despite the fight that had been raging just seconds ago, had stopped to stare at the hotel, as though he were lost. Or confused. Maybe even dumbfounded.

Adrian didn’t have long, but he knew that the man wouldn’t be distracted for long. With a flex of an invisible muscle, he activated Dead-Eye. If he was going to try his shot at killing the bastard, then he needed to use everything he had. 

It turned out that now was not going to be one of those one in a million times that Dead-Eye decided to work properly. The information that was overlaid into his mind was painful, both in it’s quantity and in it’s content. Adrian didn’t have the mental capacity or the processing power to comprehend everything that was flying past him, calculations, equations and percentages of things he couldn’t begin to link seared through his frontal cortex, unwilling, or unable, to not make themselves known.

When Adrian released the tension in that invisible muscle, less than a second had passed. A migraine had already formed from the aftermath, and it was fucking with him. He shut his eyes reflexively, taking his eyes off the cyberpsycho even though he knew he should’ve been keeping it in sight. It was a mistake - a huge fucking mistake, he knew that, but fuck it just hurt so… so…

The ice came again, and it swallowed the pain. Adrian let it, falling into it’s cold embrace as he opened his eyes, the pain in his head little more than a mild annoyance at best. The cyberpsycho still had yet to move from it’s spot, but he could see that it was getting agitated. From the angle, and his lack of pain to distract him, Adrian could see that he was currently looking over at where his friends all lay dead in a heap. He was probably going to go into a fit of murderous rage soon, and Adrian had a scant few seconds before it turned it’s head towards him and connected the dots.

On a whim, Adrian used Dead-Eye in this icy calm. Maybe the pain dampening effects would let him see what the OS was processing more clearly. But as he pulled on that invisible muscle, he saw that it didn’t overwhelm and inundate him with a flurry of information. Instead, a progress bar appeared on his vision, quickly filled out, and displayed a single line of text.

Combat Assistance Initiated. Roll Left.

Adrian reacted on instinct to the message, rolling left just before the cyberpsycho burst towards him in an explosion of motion, his fist indenting the car he’d been leaning against less than a second ago. He could barely process the fact that he had survived, even though the icy calm, when the next line appeared.

Get on you feet, then weave left, back, and left again.

Adrian used the leftover momentum from his roll to get to a standing position, dodging a kick that was definitely meant for his head. This was quickly followed up by a right cross, a left jab, and a right haymaker, all of which he managed to weave past by the skin of his teeth. He could feel Dead-Eye starting to heat up no, even through the icy calm. This wasn’t going to last for much longer, he could tell. He just needed a little longer, and he could guarantee his survival, and his subsequent victory.

Step forward with his next punch. Get your leg behind his. Trip him. You’ll know what to do next.

Adrian did exactly that as Dead-Eye started to deactivate, fighting his natural instinct to dodge out of the way as he stepped past the cyberpsycho’s fist, getting his foot behind the man’s leg. He twisted, pulling his leg back and getting the cyberpsycho off balance, taking the man to his back with a loud thud. Before he could move, Adrian pressed his foot against the man’s nearest arm and shot it with the Malorian. 

The pistol tore a hole the size of a quarter in the man’s socket, utterly destroying any control he had over the attached appendage. Adrian quickly shot the other shoulder as well, leaving the man desperately struggling to get out from under his heel as he aimed the last shot at the man’s face. There was a strange expression there. Malf manic anger, half confused worry. Like he wasn’t sure where exactly he was but knew that he was angry and wanted to hurt someone. Anyone.

Adrian shot the man once in the chest, and once more in the head. Then twice more in both spots just in case. The ice fled his veins, and Adrian fell on his ass as the adrenaline left his body, his breaths deep and exaggerated as he tried to get back some kind of control over his breathing. And through it all, he could only say one thing.

“… fucking shit, this has been one hell of first job.”

“Damn. Wasn’t expecting one of their guys to go full psycho, but I guess I’m not totally surprised. Honestly, I’m not sure why it didn’t happen sooner. Those Scav assholes mostly harvest shit for resale, but some of the twisted fucks take chrome that they really like.”

“For some reason, I can see that happening, and it disturbs me,” Adrian said, leaning against the entrance to an NCART terminal. It wasn’t the best means of transportation in the city, but it was better than using what he currently had in his garage, consisting of precisely one thing: nothing.

“Did you kill him?” Regina asked over the line.

“Had no choice. Was either him or me, and I chose me. I kinda like living, y’know?” Adrian responded. He had managed to drag himself away from that fight without major injuries, and he’d even managed to retrieve his Liberty from the chaos, but he was going to have sore ribs for weeks, despite the extra Bounce Back dulling the pain of the injury. Maybe he could ask Vik for something to speed things up, but he really couldn’t afford to make his debt any deeper than it already was.

“I get it. Life or death situation and all of that. Damn shame, though. I’d have paid a pretty eddie for you to bring him in alive.”

This immediately got Adrian’s attention, quirking a brow even though the woman on the other end of the call couldn’t see him. “There any particular reason for that?”

“Not sure you’re ready for that level of work yet, kid. I want ‘em alive, not shot in the head. I’m not looking to recruit for MaxTac. Anyway, you did good work today. Edds should be in your account promptly, with a little bonus for having to deal with a cyberpsycho on the job and coming out alive. I’ll be in touch if I have another job for you.”

“Thanks. See you around.”

The call quickly cut out as Adrian received his payment through the digital transfer, the fifteen hundred eddie bonus being more than he’d been expecting. That was half the three thousand eddie payment he’d already been guaranteed for getting the job done in the first place. Still, money was money, and Adrian needed as much of it as he could get.

With that settled, at least for the moment, Adrian looked up to the overcast sky of Night City. A rare sight, in the dryness of the California desert, but not an impossibility. The downpour was welcome, helping him unwind after the long morning. He had killed six Scavs with relative ease, up until that last one had ambushed him, and then he’d gotten ambushed again by that cyberpsycho and barely survived. He’d been forced to pull out the Malorian. More than that, he had been forced to use Dead-Eye. For some reason, despite the situation he’d been in, and the words that M had imparted to him, that still felt like a failure on his part. 

But even stranger than that was the fact that, when he fell into the ice again, Dead-Eye had worked. Dead-Eye had worked! It… well, it wasn’t a surefire way to activate it beyond immediate and deadly peril, and he was still largely unsure of his current theory, but if he could fall into that state and activate Dead-Eye while he was in there, it would at least give him some margin of error. Or answers of some kind. 

Adrian looked up at the sky, a weary smile on his face. “Some fucking day, huh? Only in Night City.”

Indeed.

Adrian Walker’s Status:

LEVEL: 4 → 5

SREET CRED: 1 → 2

€$: 0 → 4500

Stats and Skills:

BODY: 3 → 4

Athletics: Lvl 1 → 2

Annihilation: Lvl 1

Street Brawler: Lvl 2 → 3

REFLEX: 6

Assault: Lvl 1

Handguns: Lvl 3 → 4

Blades: Lvl 1

TECH: 6

Crafting: Lvl 3

Engineering: Lvl 1

INTELLIGENCE: 3

Breach Protocol: Lvl 1

Quickhacking: Lvl 1

COOL: 6

Ninjitsu: Lvl 1 → 2

Cold Blood: Lvl 3 → 4

Notable Cyberware:

FORNTAL CORTEX: None | None | None 

OCCULAR SYSTEM: Dead-Eye Optic

CIRCULATORY SYSTEM: None | None | None

IMMUNE SYSTEM: None | None

NERVOUS SYSTEM: None | None

INTEGUMENTARY SYSTEM: None | None | None

OPERATING SYSTEM: Dead-Eye Combat Analysis Regulation & Assistance Device (Prototype)

SKELETON: None | None

HANDS: None

ARMS: Military Grade Arasaka Cyberarm

LEGS: None

Chapter Text

June 6th, 2075.

Night City , CA.

10:02 am PST.

6 months and 2 weeks before a certain car accident.

“You’re absolutely sure?” M asked again, his tone even more serious than usual. “You were able to use Dead-Eye properly while you were in that state?”

“Yes,” Adrian responded again, his answer as unwavering as it had been the last two times he’d asked this question. 

Adrian had told M everything. At this point, it’d be foolish to keep something like this from him, especially since he’d given Adrian the Dead-Eye OS in the first place and had been troubleshooting potential solutions to it’s quirks with him for a while. So any kind of progress, especially progress as big as activating it properly, would help the both of them immensely.

Still, there were major problems with it, as Adrian had already stated. First being the fact that the icy calm wasn’t an on-command reflex. It was a reaction, something instinctive that he couldn’t use consciously. At least not yet. M had said all instincts could be honed to the point they were simple thoughts away from being utilized as weapons themselves. 

Second was the fact that Dead-Eye ran so hot so fast. The fact that it was able to so accurately predict the cyberpsychos movements and guide his reaction accordingly in such a succinct way was a testament to it’s potential. But the risk of information overload was not gone, as they’d proven when Adrian had tried to activate it outside of the icy calm just that morning. He’d gotten another migraine for his trouble. A less intense one, he thought, but still incredibly painful nonetheless. 

“Well… that’s going to be something of a long term project, then,” M said with a sigh, sitting at the plain metal table he’d brought to the warehouse. He gestured across from his position. “C’mon, kid. Take a seat. We won’t be doing anything too intense today. This is a bit more important.”

Adrian obliged, taking the seat across from him in a single motion. He had both of his guns on hand; he always did, of course, but he felt no need to draw them. If M had wanted him dead, he would simply be dead. That was a fact. And he doubted the man would do anything like that. It would be a waste of all their efforts. 

“I know you don’t have any clue who made Dead-Eye. That was by design,” M admitted. “Not due to any kind of malice or intended deceit towards you, but because my friend would rather not have their identity brought up in these kinds of conversations. They value their privacy a lot. Especially these days.”

“Does anyone really have a whole lot of privacy these days?” The Net had no such thing these days thanks to NetWatch, and it was already hard enough to get that kind of thing in the real world.

“In this case? Yes. And they’d prefer to keep it that way for as long as possible.”

Huh. Okay, that was a pretty understandable reason to want to stay anonymous. Complete privacy was a luxury to which Adrian was unfamiliar, and he had enough respect for the person who’d made Dead-Eye to leave that hornet’s nest well enough alone. Especially after it had literally saved his life just a few days ago.

“With all of that being said… describe the fight to me again. Go over everything - even the insignificant details. If there’s a lynchpin to this, we need to find and capitalize on it as soon as possible.”

And Adrian did. He wasn’t entirely sure how, but that fight had been seared into his memory. He doubted many would forget their first encounter with a cyberpsycho. Especially since it was the last for a vast majority of people. Cyberpsycho incidents weren’t unfamiliar to Adrian, at least in concept. There tended to be at least one every couple of months, though they tended to be short-lived rampages more than any kind of true malice. It was something you heard about on the news, always happening to someone else. Someone who was decently far away and who he didn’t know in the slightest. Not to someone whose name he knew, even by circumstance. Even if that bastard had been a fucking Scav.

At the end of his story, M fell deep into thought, gaze going distant as the gears in his head started working overtime. Adrian was a bit anxious at this prospect. He knew that was a foolish feeling to have, but he just couldn’t help it. M was the closest thing to a supportive adult he had in his life, and outside of training, they didn’t really interact all that much. It was nerve-wracking, to say the least.

But M hadn’t let him down yet, and give the determined expression on his face, he wasn’t about to start. It seemed like he had come to some kind of epiphany while he’d been lost in thought, and the grizzled man looked at Adrian with sympathy. “I… suppose what I say next might or might not come as a shock to you, depending on how open-minded you are to the idea. But… I think might know what you’re talking about, when it comes to that sense. Because, in some way, shape or form, I’ve used it too.”

A ripple of shock went through Adrian’s entire body before he mentally smacked himself upside the head. Of course someone as accomplished as M knew what he was talking about. Hell, considering just how many life and death situations he’d been in, it was likely that he’d fallen into that icy calm far more times than Adrian had. And maybe, just maybe, he knew how to fall into it on command. That could be the solution to his problem right there!

“What do you know about it?” Adrian asked, his neutral tone belying his excitement. 

“Well, I know that it tends to only come about during times of extreme stress, for one thing,” M began. “At least at the start. As I went through more shit and came out alive, it started to become a more familiar feeling. I even managed to, somehow, gain a minor degree of control over that reaction. But it still required a trigger. Adrenaline, fear, anger; a spark to the flame that is that skill. Though, I suppose ‘fire’ isn’t exactly an apt term for it, given what it feels like.”

“Ice crawling through your veins?”

“Something like that. Even came up with a name that I thin is really stupid in hindsight but kinda stuck around because it was fitting.”

“And that name is…?”

“… Cold Blood.”

.

..

…

“… wouldn’t have pegged you as someone who liked names that sound like they’re straight out of an old-school cartoon,” Adrian said.

“It was catchy and accurate!” M objected.

“My point stands.”

“… fine, you get that much,” M said with a wry smile. “Keeping the name, though. Gotten too used to it to stop using it now.”

Adrian nodded. Cold Blood… corny though it sounded, it wasn’t like it was inaccurate. At least in the way it felt. Ice crawling through his veins brought little else to mind other than a chill in his blood. 

“So, is there any way for me to increase my proficiency with… Cold Blood?” Adrian asked. Now that he said it, it actually rolled off the tongue really well despite the fact that it sounded so corny. 

“Simple. Keep heading into shitstorms, keep surviving everything that gets thrown at you. That’s about all you can ask for. It took me years before I could control Cold Blood with any kind of frequency. With Dead-Eye that timeframe will probably be shortened significantly, but it’s not nonexistent. Besides, we still need to confirm that Cold Blood is a surefire way to use Dead-Eye to it’s fullest. So if you call into Cold BLood and you get the chance, use it. May just save your life. Again.”

Adrian winced. Despite the fact that he knew M meant nothing negative by it, he still felt like a failure for using it. Even if it had saved his life, and he knew that on a logical level, his pride just wouldn’t let it go. He needed to get past this, or it would get him killed, and get him killed real fucking fast.

“… on a related note… do you know anyone else who could fall into this Cold Blood state like we can?”

“No one in my immediate circle of associates, other than you,” M said. “Even most of the Solos and mercs I’ve met over the years haven’t experienced anything like it. It’s a rare thing, what we have. Some have probably dropped into it in a truly life-threatening situation, but I doubt they had enough of their wits about them to recognize the sensation.”

Adrian nodded. That made sense. Even so, he was pretty disappointed with the lack of information. It seemed that M would be his only reliable source. That was more than he expected, but still far from his personal preference. But he’d make do with what he had. At the very least, they would be able to compare their experiences with the sensation. And, well…

“You already saw how my first outing with Cold Blood went,” Adrian said. “Any particulars with yours?”

“A firefight gone to complete and utter shit,” M said, the fingers on his cyberarm twitching at the words. “That’s all I’ll say about that.”

Adrian nodded as M continued on. “Anyway, I think that’ll be all for today. Feel free to head home. Take tomorrow off, too. After all of the shit you’ve had to deal with lately, you deserve a bit of a break. But I’m gonna want you back here first thing on the eighth, you got it?”

Adrian nodded, entirely unsure of how the hell he would spend the free day. The idea of having time to himself again had once been the only thing he looked forward to. Now? It was daunting.

June 7th, 2075.

Night City, CA.

3:59 pm PST.

6 months and 2 weeks before a certain car accident.

Adrian had found himself at a complete loss for how to spend a day off. He would’ve reverted back to his older hobbies, but all of the stuff related to that had burnt up with his home. Which only made him feel a sad sense of longing nostalgia that he didn’t want to revisit. The area around his house was still way too hot to just take a visit to right now. 

It wasn’t like he could just hand out at home either. Maya was still borderline catatonic, with her only signs of life being her rummaging through the fridge and the occasional request to spend time together. And that was fine; Adrian wanted to spend time with his sister, especially when she asked, but he was still afraid of the idea that this state might be how she remained for the rest of her life. Still, with only three thousand eddies in the bank, and Adrian paying off fifteen hundred to M for his pretty sizable debt, it wasn’t like they could afford a therapist and next month’s rent, which he could thankfully pay now, along with some half-decent food. Those bastards charged a premium these days, especially since they catered to the ultra-wealthy.

So it was with some surprise that Adrian found himself at a place he hadn’t though of in a while. the place were a striking woman with Moxie tattoos had helped him get his head on straight. The Garden of Choice was a strange bar, especially compared to most of the dives in Night City, but it had an atmosphere that Adrian appreciated. Especially the one that came about in the early afternoon.

Adrian knew that the bartender, Tyler he believed his name had been, would recognize him. considering the fact that he had different clothes on, had a replacement cyberarm in place of his empty socket, and his face wasn’t half covered in bandages. All in all, he struck a very different figure than when he’d gone in there just a couple of weeks ago. 

He walked in, the automatic door sliding out of his way as he stepped i to see the bar. It was scarce of patrons, with only a few dotting the edges of the place with drinks in hand, and no one at the bar itself, where Tyler perpetually did that thing that all bartenders seemed to do out of habit: polish a perpetually dirty glass until someone came to sit at the bar and make their order.

When Adrian walked across the room to the bar proper, his boots echoed through the space with their full weight. Adrian would’ve been quieter, but being intentionally even more light footed took more effort than he was willing to spare. Besides, he was there to unwind, not get a job. 

“How may I… Ah. Hello there, Adrian, I almost didn’t recognize you,” Tyler said, a warm smile crossing his elderly face. “You look much better than you did when last I saw you. I take it things have been going well?”

“Not great, but getting better,” Adrian replied with a smile as he sat at the bar. “Anyway, I never did pay you for that drink last time, did I?”

“No need, son. Rebecca put the whiskey on her tab,” Tyler replied with a slight chuckle. “You wanna pay someone back, then talk to her when she gets here. It’s been almost three days since she last came in, so she’ll likely be comin’ along sooner or later.”

“I’ll do that, then,” Adrian said, looking over at the menu. “Don’t suppose I could get what she ordered me last time while I wait, could I?”

Tyler just gave him a smile. “Comin’ right up. And I suppose you’ve got the edds this time, if you’re asking?”

“I most certainly do.”

Before long, Adrian exchanged about fifteen eddies for a single pour of the dark orange liquid in front of him in the short glass. Adrian wasn’t overly fond of alcohol; never had much of a chance to grow any kind of fondness or distaste for it before everything had happened. 

The drink was just as smoky and flavorful as the last time he had tasted it, while possessing that same pleasant burn as it made it’s way down his throat. He placed the glass back on the countertop, shivering slightly as the alcohol wound it’s way down his throat. It was good, but it still had a kick to it that he hadn’t gotten used to.

He spent the next hour like that, idly talking with Tyler and ordering two more glasses of whiskey to pass the time. Surprisingly, beyond the typical buzz and a slowness to his own thoughts, Adrian didn’t feel unprepared or unable to defend himself. That felt strange, since all of the people in his immediate family were historic lightweights. Hs sister hadn’t even managed to last past her single beer of the pair they’d managed to sneak by mom that one night. 

Thinking back on those times only made him feel more alone. God, it hadn’t even been two weeks since the fire. And now he was being trained by… M, he had to keep up that habit even when he wasn’t around the man, and he’d killed seven people less than a week ago. Yes, they’d been Scavs but the thought had never crossed his mind before two weeks ago. And no he’d committed murder and gotten away with it.

He was going to have to get used to it. Unlike most people in his new profession, he’d chosen the mercenary lifestyle. It hadn’t been thrust on him. He’d been presented a choice, and now he had to live with it. He had no right to complain about lost lives when that was an expected part of the job.

Adrian was pulled from his thoughts when a familiar door slam rang out from the other end of the bar, and a short, loud woman called out her order to Tyler.

“The usual, Ty!” Rebecca said with a grin as the door slid back into place behind her. Adrian turned lightly to look at the woman, her long hair done in that same style of tails complimenting her pastel green hair rather than dominating it, the hairband complimenting her appearance quite well. Her hoodie jacket was unzipped slightly, like their last meeting, exposing her vibrant pink Mox tattoos, and her eyes were just as alluring as their last meeting.

Even as he turned back to the bar, sipping on his third glass of whiskey, Adrian couldn’t help the smile that crossed his face. Rebecca had helped him a lot. She’d been a beacon and an anchor in a world where everything was suddenly uncertain. He was sure that if he hadn’t had the fortune to meet her that day, he likely would’ve crumbled under the pressure. He had not been in a good way, and having someone support him despite barely knowing anything about him had been a comfort he hadn’t expected. 

“Your brother again?” Tyler asked, placing her usual drink in front of the short woman as she sat on one of the stools at the bar.

“Nah. Actually checking in for that Adrian guy,” Rebecca said. “Haven’t seen him in a while and I’m getting a little worried.”

“You? Worried? About someone else?” Tyler asked, brow raised and smirk barely contained. 

“Fuck you; you know what I mean,” Rebecca said as she sipped from her drink. “He kinda ran out pretty suddenly. I just wonder about it, y’know?”

“You are allowed to ask me where I've been, y’know.”

Adrian smiled in genuine amusement as Rebecca stiffened up at the sound of his voice. Slowly, she turned to face him, her expression dumbstruck and her pink and green eyes wide with shock. He was pretty sure her mouth would be hanging open too if it wasn’t already attached to her glass.

“Hey,” he said casually, raising his half downed whiskey glass at her in greeting. “Seems I owe you some edds for the drink from last time.”

Her reaction was not immediate. Instead, she slowly placed her glass down on the countertop as she stared unabashedly at him. It was enough to almost make Adrian start blushing when a grin spread across her face. She leapt across the row of stools - literally, that woman had some insane fucking leg strength - and landed on the one right next to him. 

“Nice to see you again, choomba!” she said , that same grin widening even further as she wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “Hope you’ve been busy, because otherwise I just might have to punch you for disappearing!”

Adrian laughed, his eyes drifting over her figure, and those goddamn legs of hers, before he responded. “I was pretty indisposed for a while there. Sorry. Would’ve come back sooner, but I was kinda trying to get my life in some semblance of order.”

“I get that,” Rebecca said as she let him go, sitting back down as Tyler brought her drink over to the pair. “Still, you had me worried there. That’s not something I typically like to feel, so let’s at least share holo IDs this time, yeah?”

“Hm? Sure,” Adrian said, immediately going through his preferences as Rebecca sent him her contact information and he did the same. Strangely enough, Rebecca didn’t have a surname with her holo ID, just her given name: Rebecca. That was fair, and given what she might do for work, he couldn’t blame her. 

“Walker, huh?” she asked with a raised brow. “Gotta admit, it fits. Even if it is a little generic.”

“Hey, generic just means people will have a harder time looking for you,” Adrian said. 

“You say that but you’re the first ‘Adrian Walker’ I’ve ever met.” Rebecca retorted.

“True, but that’s not to say other people with the same name don’t exist.”

“Hm. Touche.”

They lapsed into silence for a few seconds as the sipped at their drinks, Rebecca’s eyes drifting over to Adrian’s cybernetic arm in clear curiosity. “So, what model did you pick out? Gotta admit, I like the color. Seems to suit you really well.”

Adrian winced as he answered her question. “Arasaka, unfortunately.”

She raised a brow at that, taking another sip from her drink. “You got a bone to pick with those assholes?”

“Something like that,” Adrian said, leaving his grievances at that. “It was all the ripper had at the time, so I used what I had. And I’ve come to appreciate it’s uses over the last two weeks.”

“In what regard?” Rebecca asked. 

“Oh, I uh… do merc work now,” Adrian admitted. 

“Seriously?! Shit man, me too!” Rebecca said with an unabashed grin on her face.

“Really?” Adrian asked, genuinely surprised.

“I know, I know, I look way too hot for that to be believable, but it’s true! Also helps that I’m a damn good shot,” the short woman replied as she aimed a pair of finger guns at him. “Why?”

“I, uh… may have made a few assumptions based on your tattoos and the fact that I didn’t see any iron on you when we first met.”

…

“… that kinda just sounds like a polite way of saying that you thought I was a whore.”

Adrian winced at her words. That wasn’t how he wanted to come off, but that ship had already sailed. Before he could even begin apologizing, though, Rebecca just chuckled at what he presumed was an uncomfortable look on his face.

“Relax, choom. I appreciate the fact that you were at least trying to be tactful about it,” Rebecca said, idly touching at the neon pink tattoo around her neck. “Besides, it’s not completely inaccurate or unreasonable. I was a part of the Mox for a while. Did some stints as a BD star for a bit at Lizzies, even worked my charms as an actual prostitute a couple of times. Then a client decided to get a bit too handsy and I almost caved his face in with an ashtray.”

“Can’t say he didn’t deserve it,” Adrian said with a shake of his head. Even if the moral standpoint of ‘don’t touch people who don’t want to be touched’ wasn’t a factor, which it very much was in this case, the idiot had tried to do it in the middle of Lizzies. The heart of Mox territory. It didn’t matter if you were some ganger off the street or Saburo Arasaka himself. If you fucked with someone under the Mox that blatantly in the middle of their club, broken bones would be the least of your worries.

“After that, I got promoted to Bouncer and got to watch as some jackass tried tp muscle their way past me only to get kicked in the balls. Or the face - it really depended on how I was feeling that night.”

Adrian just nodded to her comment about kicks. “They can be surprisingly effective when someone’s not expecting it. Especially if you aim for their balls.”

“I know; people need to stop thinking about decorum so often, because it is too effective in a fight to just ignore kicking someone in the dick as an option,” Rebecca agreed with an eager smile. “I’ll spare you the details of the rest, but over the course of a few months as a Bouncer, I found out that I was surprisingly good at violence on most levels and decided to make it a profession. I tried to leave, Susie Q objected to that rather violently, and a fight ensued wherein I may or may not have crushed one of her arms with a baseball bat. Seriously, I haven’t been back to Lizzie’s since the fight and most of it’s kind of a blur.”

Adrian just nodded, a bit lost as to what he should say next. “It’s pretty dangerous work, merc stuff. You probably knew that going in, though.”

“All work in Night City that’s worth the edds is some form of dangerous,” Rebecca said with a shrug. “It’s not like sex work was any less deadly. At least with merc work you can see most of the danger coming.”

She looked at Adrian’s face. The right side of his face. The one with the massive, ugly burn scar that he felt suddenly quite embarrassed about. He slouched in place, conflicted about the fact that a very pretty woman was currently staring at him and the reason that said pretty woman was staring at him at all.

“… that looks like it hurt,” she said, a sad smile of sympathy on her face. 

“… didn’t hurt when it happened,” he replied, brushing his hand under the scar. “Just processed it as a fact. Pain came later, and it… it wasn’t quite as bad as it could’ve been. Had other things to worry about in the meantime.”

When he turned back to Rebecca, Adrian didn’t find pity in her eyes. Just sympathy. Like she had felt pain similar to his own, if not the exact same as his. Slowly, she raised her left hand up, gesturing towards his face as though asking for permission. A bit confused, Adrian nodded, letting her hand slowly drift closer to his face. Just when he was starting to grow genuine apprehensive and afraid that her touch might reignite some trauma deep in his mind, her hand was already there, giving his scarred face a gentle caress.

The tension in his back, neck and shoulders immediately lessened at her touch. Despite her brash and boisterous nature, her motions were gentle and slow, not doing anything that might agitate the puckered scar tissue. Instead, she gently let her thumb glide across his cheekbone as she looked at it. Really looked at him for the first time since they’d met.

“… you’re gonna be okay.”

Adrian almost objected, almost disturbed the serenity of the moment because of his disbelief, but she shook her head, as though sensing those very words. “I know you probably don’t believe me. But take it from someone who’s seen some really shitty times in her life and lived to tell the tale. You’re gonna be okay. Not today, and maybe not tomorrow. But as long as you keep living in spite of everything that’s happened to you? You will be okay.”

Adrian felt tears welling up, and he had to reluctantly shy away from Rebecca’s touch in order to wipe them away. She didn’t object to that, instead waiting for him to process the emotions that were roiling about in his mind. A few minutes later, his tears had dried, and he looked back at Rebecca with a grateful smile on his face.

“Thanks. I, uh… I needed that more than I realized.”

The short woman simply nodded, relief clear in her eyes and on her face. “Glad I could help.

“… anyway, on a not so unrelated note - your new eye looks pretty cool.”

“Thanks,” Adrian said with an even bigger smile. “I wasn’t super down with the crosshair design at first, but it’s grown on me since then.”

“It suits you,” she said with a grin. “I got my eyes replaced pretty soon after I started my Mox days, but I liked the original design I had goin’ on, so I kept it when I swapped out the aesthetic stuff for proper Kiroshis.”

“They’re certainly striking,” Adrian commented, to which Rebecca just smiled.

“… actually, are you free in a couple of days?”

“Hm? Yeah, why?”

“I’ve actually got a job on the backburner. I usually go with my crew for most jobs, but I do some Solo work on the side to bring in some extra edds. This one seems like it might get pretty hot, so I’d appreciate having some backup.”

“For some reason, you don’t strike me as someone whose first instinct in a fight is to call for backup,” Adrian noted, remembering her brief descriptions of his history of violence.

“It’s not,” she admitted. “But considering where I’m going, I’m taking the time to be careful before I get caught up in the middle of combat and go battle crazy.”

“You’re expecting a firefight?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” Rebecca said. “And I can see you’re packing iron. So? You in?”

“… fuck it, why not,” Adrian said before he slammed down the rest of the whiskey in front of him. “I already survived one fire fight on a job. As long as it's not Pacifica, why not another one?”

“Nova!” she cheered, giving him a side hug. “Thanks, choom! We’ll talk about how we split the fee on the day. In the meantime, let’s have some more drinks! My treat as a celebration of your first job gone well.”

They talked well into the night, laughing and joking and overall just having fun together. A few hours later, they parted ways with Rebecca paying for most of the drinks by putting them on her tab. He really needed to pay her back for that sometime. And, of course, thoughts of Rebecca naturally led to his thought of the figure she struck and… and...

Fucking hell, I barely know her! Why is my stupid brain focusing on how sexy her thighs are?!

Adrian dealt with some variation of this thought for the rest of the night. He was just thankful that his sister hadn’t been awake to see the embarrassment plain on his face.

Adrian Walker’s Status:

LEVEL: 5

SREET CRED: 2

€$: 4500 → 2955

Stats and Skills:

BODY: 4

Athletics: Lvl 2

Annihilation: Lvl 1

Street Brawler: Lvl 3

REFLEX: 6

Assault: Lvl 1

Handguns: Lvl 4

Blades: Lvl 1

TECH: 6

Crafting: Lvl 3

Engineering: Lvl 1

INTELLIGENCE: 3

Breach Protocol: Lvl 1

Quickhacking: Lvl 1

COOL: 6

Ninjitsu: Lvl 2

Cold Blood: Lvl 4

Notable Cyberware:

FORNTAL CORTEX: None | None | None 

OCCULAR SYSTEM: Dead-Eye Optic

CIRCULATORY SYSTEM: None | None | None

IMMUNE SYSTEM: None | None

NERVOUS SYSTEM: None | None

INTEGUMENTARY SYSTEM: None | None | None

OPERATING SYSTEM: Dead-Eye Combat Analysis Regulation & Assistance Device [Mrk 0]

SKELETON: None | None

HANDS: None

ARMS: Military Grade Arasaka Cyberarm

LEGS: None

Chapter Text

June 9th, 2075

Night City, CA.

10:25 am PST.

6 months and 1 week before a certain car accident.

Adrian stretched as he stepped off the NCART, a yawn escaping his lips before he stretched his neck to both sides with a set of satisfying pops. He’d had a long, long sleep after yesterday’s session. M had made him go hard, with firearms, close combat and endurance training. His ribs had mostly healed by then, though he didn’t want to test his full range of mobility for at least another few days.

The place they were meeting up was actually pretty close to Japantown, where Adrian had been staying for nearly a month. Westbrook as a whole held many Asiatic cultures within itself, the two most dominant ones being Chinese and Japanese, with the latter holding far more sway overall while the former at least had it’s own portion of the district to call it’s own. Other than that, there was a smattering of Korean culture here and there and the occasional Taiwanese restaurant, but other than that most of the stuff you’d find in Westbrook amounted to that.

It was also the home turf of one of Night City’s main gangs: the Tyger Claws. When Rebecca had called him last night to tell him where they’d be meeting, he knew instantly why she’d asked for backup. The Mox and the Tyger Claws had a… rough history, to put it mildly. If one could somehow describe the murder of Lizzie’s namesake and the subsequent riots her martyrdom had inspired in such a way that could be remotely construed as ‘mild.’

Since then, things hadn’t quite escalated into full-blown war, but they were still tense. Violence was common among members of both groups on the rare occasions where they crossed paths, and it also didn’t help that they were competitors and primary rivals in each other’s business pursuits, which primarily revolved around prostitution.

Part of the reason Adrian had still agreed to come, even after finding out that they’d be going up against the Tyger Claws, was the fact that the group had some very close ties with Arasaka. M had given him some basic rundowns for most of te relevant gangs in Night City, but Adrian had already heard of the Mox and the Tyger Claws long before he’d met the man. He’d been eleven when the riots had happened. It made the national news. M had told him about those aforementioned ties to Arasaka, though. And Adrian couldn’t wait to out some ‘Saka loving bastards in some very shallow graves.

He was waiting at the edge of a place known as Jig-Jig Street, where all manner of sex-shop and cheap food could be found, all on the same little corner. He also knew that this was where one of the city’s premiere fixers, Wakako Okada, had set up shop. He doubted that he would be speaking to her anytime soon. Especially since he was about to go on a killing spree of Tyger Claws. 

“Well, you sure showed up early.”

Rebecca walked up to him with a slight smile on her face, looking the same as she had a couple of nights ago, the only exception being the fact that she currently had both of her hands inside of her hoodie. Considering the fact that he couldn’t see any holsters strapped anywhere, and the fact that she wasn’t wearing pants, it was likely that whatever weapons she had were currently in those pockets, ready to be drawn at a moment’s notice.

“It’s not like it was all that far away,” Adrian said. “I actually got to sleep in for once. Anyway, what’re we doing and how’re we doing it? Also, how should we split things when we’re done?”

Rebecca’s smile widened. “I was thinking something like… seventy-thirty?”

Adrain almost smacked himself in the face. “Becca, I know you don’t know me that well, but c’mon. I’ve already survived a shootout with seven Scavs all by my lonesome. I think that deserves at least a bit of consideration for an even fifty-fifty.”

“And I believe you; I heard about a fire at some abandoned motel in Watson. But the fact remains that I haven’t seen you in action. Can’t have an opinion of objective fact if I take stories of that job at face value,” Rebecca argued, her tone neutral with a smile still on her face, like she’d been expecting something like this. “I’ve gotta be thorough with this, especially since I’ll potentially be babysitting a newbie.”

“You know I’m not a newbie,” Adrian pointed out.

“Yeah, that’s why I’m offering you thirty instead of twenty.”

He raised a brow at that. “People actually offer that as a reasonable rate?”

“Twenty’s standard for first timers. As far as I’m concerned, I’m doing you a favor. Even if it might not seem like it from the outside,” Rebecca said, her smile turning sheepish as one of her hands came up to rub at the back of her neck. “Sorry, man. I might not have a big rep, but it’s still a rep. Especially since it’s associated with my regular crew. I look weak, they look weak. That’s how the world works.”

Adrian sighed. He supposed, when he looked at it from that perspective, he could see where she was coming from. When one was a part of a group, especially a group so tight-knit as a crew, you had to consider how your actions would affect them by their association with you. Assuming that all of the consequences of your actions would only fall on you was naïve unless you were truly, utterly alone in the world.

“How ‘bout we call it sixty five-thirty five and I pay for the next round of drinks at Garden of Choice?” Adrian offered.

Rebecca gave a pout as she considered his offer, the heel of her right foot tapping in a steady rhythm against the concrete as - holy fuck, she had a wrap-around tattoo on her thigh, how had he missed-

Stop it! Fucking hormones, making me notice distractingly sexy details about the extremely hot woman in front of me.

“Gotta admit, that’s a tempting sell,” she said with a puff and a sigh. “Okay, fine. That’s your baseline. Thirty five percent guaranteed. Whether it gets any larger than that will depend on how you perform. So you better perform, got it?”

“I’ll do my best,” Adrian replied with a smile. “So, where are we going and who’re we hitting?”

“We go a bit south from Jig-Jig Street and turn left at an alleyway with a sign with these katakana on it,” Rebecca said as she held up a piece of paper with a string of Japanese symbology on it.

“Akira’s Laundromat?” Adrian asked, recognizing the symbols.

“You can read Japanese?” Rebecca asked in genuine surprise.

“I can speak it, too,” he answered back with a smirk, his wording of the eastern language absolutely perfect. She clearly couldn’t hear what he had just said, so Adrian switched back to English as they walked. “I learned pretty early on that people will listen to you if you speak their native language with some level of competency. So I tried learning as many of them as I could. Other than Japanese, I know my native English, but I also know Spanish, Russian and some bits and pieces of Creole. A lot less of Creole than I do the other ones because Pacifica is… y’know. Pacifica.”

Rebecca nodded in understanding. To say that the development of the district that would one day become Night City’s combat zone had been a disaster in the making was a goddamn understatement. It also didn’t help that the Haitian community pushed back against basically anyone who tried to go there, but Adrian supposed he couldn’t really blame them for that. 

“Well, the most I know is bits and pieces of garbled Spanglish. Most of the time I just get by on autotraslators,” Rebecca said with a shrug. “Wasn’t exactly in a position to learn a whole lot of languages, anyway.”

Adrian just nodded in response. Most people in Night City only spoke one or two languages, and while a majority spoke English, enough didn’t that autotranslator programs were a relatively common and non-invasive feature in most cybernetic eyes. The fact that Adrian could speak several languages beyond English was just a bonus.

“What’re we hitting them for, anyway?” Adrian asked, getting back to his questions. “Can’t imagine that it’s for anything good.”

Rebecca nodded again, sending him the details of the job as they walked, giving her own rundown as Adrian scrolled through the information. “Extraction. The Tyger Claws kidnapped some guy’s daughter from right under his nose. Kicked the shit out of him pretty badly, too. I don’t know where he got the edds for this job, especially since he’s not particularly flush with cash all things considered, and it’s really not our problem at this point. Guy paid to get his daughter back. That’s where we come in.”

Rebecca was silent for a few moments as they continued to walk, the silence between them somewhat deafening despite the fact that the buzz of conversational white noise surrounded them in their own little sound bubble. Adrian felt lost for words. Despite the fact that her tone had been neutral, there was an undercurrent of barely detectable anger in her words. One that he wasn’t sure how to address without inflaming it further. Then, she spoke again, and not in the manner that Adrian had expected. 

“If someone you cared about got kidnapped, and was going to be forced to do something truly horrific… would you save them at any cost?”

The question seemed to come out of nowhere, but Adrian kept his composure as they continued to walk. Rebecca’s gaze told him that she was clearly expecting some kind of answer, but the suddenness of the question had caught him off guard.

An imagine had been conjured at her words, though. One of Maya, indistinct figures grabbing at her, wrapping her in their shadowy embrace as they dragged her off to parts unknown. It was an image that set his blood ablaze with fury. One that he could not abide. Not in hypothetical, and not in reality. 

“I would track them down, save who they took… and kill every last one of the fuckers who thought they could get away with it.”

That was his honest, gut-reaction response. It seemed to satisfy Rebecca, the woman nodding as her gaze turned back to the road. Eventually, they found Akira’s Laundromat and turned left into the alleyway, and Rebecca explained the place they were son going to be assaulting.

“It’s got Tyger Claws out the ass for guards, mostly because this is a kind of rest-stop. This is where they process people they’ve kidnapped and determine where to take them from there. It’s not one of their main ones, because otherwise there’d be a whole lot fucking more of ‘em, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t important.”

Adrian nodded, checking on his stores of ammunition, and the Malorian strapped to his back, as he turned back to Rebecca while she did the same with the stuff inside her hoodie. So intense was their concentration that no inappropriate thoughts surfaced when he caught a brief glimpse of her modest bust. “Anything in particular we need to watch out for?”

“Claws tend to be fond of Mantis Blades and katanas, which isn’t surprising. Try to avoid melee as much as possible. It’ll probably end badly for you if they end up hitting an artery or the wrong arm. Don’t imagine you have a whole lot of edds to spare for replacement organs, do ya?”

“Not really, no,” Adrian admitted with a chuckle. “Warm or Cold?”

“Hm?”

“Terms that I’ve been developing for myself,” Adrian fibbed. It was actually M who’d come up with the terms, as he’d used them during his Edgerunning days to indicate degrees of severity. “Warm for alive, and Cold for dead.”

Rebecca nodded, understanding the terminology in less than a second. “Any subcategories of those?”

“Yeah, actually,” Adrian said, eager to explain something that he’d found rather interesting. “Starting with Warm, there’s Body-Temp for minimal damage, and Lukewarm for an acceptable amount of damage. Then for Cold, there’s Freezing for quick and clean deaths, and Sub-Zero for brutal deaths.”

Rebecca pulled out one of her pistols and cocked the slide back, letting it pull itself back forwards again with a definitive cla-click. “I think Sub-Zero sounds just fine for these fuckers. They have it coming.”

“Can’t say I disagree.”

Adrian wasn’t totally confident in the plan of action that Rebecca had in mind. Sure, kicking down the front door would lead directly to fighting all the Tyger Claws they could handle, but it also came with the not so small chance that it might get them killed. Adrian liked living, and he already liked Rebecca well enough that he didn’t want to see her get shot.

 So, he had suggested a course that would let them get the drop on the Tyger Claws from behind. Akira’s Laundromat was adjoined by two other buildings, one of which was an apartment building that was all but attached to it through the shared ventilation system and a few other pipes whose purposes he couldn’t discern. The silent approach hadn’t sat well with Rebecca though, who seemed to want to get into the fighting as soon as possible, even if she did recognize the logic of his suggestion. It seemed that she really wanted those Tyger Claws dead, and she wanted them to know she was there. Considering the hostility between them and her former employers, as well as his own morals regarding those kinds of things, he couldn’t really fault her for feeling that way.

The minor disagreement in approach had eventually led to a compromise. While Rebecca would draw the attention of the Tyger Claws at the front, Adrian would take the way in that he’d see up in the apartment building and flank them from behind. 

It proved to be rather easy, at least on his end. Anyone with half a brain would likely know that this ‘laundromat’ wan’t actually a full laundromat; the building was far too large to be solely dedicated to that one purpose, but most people also wanted to keep their heads down and away from any wayward bullets that might be passing by.

Adrian crept over the connected window, his booted feet landing softly against the hard floor. The hallway itself was narrow, and quickly branched off into a corner to the left with a couple of doors on the right. It was likely that this building doubled up as an apartment complex, most likely catering to the Tyger Claw guards that watched the place. It was a nice way to incentivize it’s defense. No one would willingly abandon the defense of their home unless it was absolutely necessary for their survival.

“I’m in,” Adrian whispered over the holo. “Get ready to fuck ‘em up.”

“I was born ready,” Rebecca replied, a grin audible through the call. Muted gunshots came through the call, trailing half a second after the actual gunshots that Rebecca was laying into the Tyger Claws down below. “C’MON YOU COCKSUCKING SONS O’ BITCHES! I’M GONNA FILL YOU FULL OF LEAD AND PISS ON YOUR BONES!”

Yeah, she’s fucking scary, Adrian thought to himself as he crept onward. I am going to do my damndest to never get on her bad side. I don’t think I’d survive the aftermath.

He continued through the narrow hallways of the upper floors, his Liberty drawn just in case he needed to make a quick shot. It actually kinda reminded him of his own slightly cramped apartment building in Japantown. The de ja vu of the space made it all a bit surreal, but he didn’t let that fact distract him. Eventually, he found the staircase down to the laundromat proper, a cacophony of gunshots echoing out from the fire fight downstairs, Rebecca’s laughter audible above it all. It was a pretty laugh, if a manic and slightly crazy one. 

As he leaned over the balcony, checking for enemies, he saw a Tyger Claw hanging back from the rest with a surprisingly high tech weapon in his hands. A Militech M179-Achilles Tech Rifle to be exact. Surprisingly, unlike most weapons and cyberware that the Tyger Claws used, which typically utilized eye-catching colors to mark themselves and their owners, this one was the standard military coloration, like it had been taken fresh out of a case.

That’s gonna be bad news, Adrian thought as he stood up a bit. We really can’t afford to deal with a tech weapon right now. Also, I’ve always been interested in the Achilles model, so… yoink!

The young man leapt over the railing with all the silence of a cat, his feet meeting the chest of the unaware Tyger Claw before they impacted the ground. The landing was surprisingly muffled, especially given the velocity he’d had from jumping from the balcony, but Adrian let that fact slip from his mind, quickly grabbing the nameless Tyger Claw’s head with his cyberarm and bashed it into the floor once, then twice. As blood started pooling where the man’s skull had struck against one of the stairs, Adrian quickly scooped up the Achilles rifle and the spare magazines the man had on him before he moved on. 

M hadn’t trained him very extensively in rifles, but he did know the very basics of their use. Specifically, he knew how the Achilles worked due to M’s description of them, and the fact that they were the primary weapon of choice for a certain group of NCPD officers known as MaxTac. The fact that his gigs might put him in their sights sooner or later was an eventuality that M had anticipated and helped Adrian prepared for. Even if it never came to pass, it would still be prudent to learn how to deal with those kinds of weapons. 

So, with his finger on the trigger and a steady breath, Adrian put the stock to his shoulder and aimed at the nearest Tyger Claw. The man was a bit of a ways down the stairs, likely unable to hear the slight commotion of his friend’s death because of the crazy woman at the front of the laundromat raising hell and killing his fellow gang members.

He pulled the trigger, the sound of the bullet firing half like a normal gunshot and half like something straight out of an old school sci-fi show. It tore right through the back of the man’s head in a shower of gore, blood and brain matter splattering everywhere as his body fell limply to the group, spurting out even more blood. Before the Tyger Claws could react, Adrian fired on the rest of them in earnest, managing to injure almost all of them and even kill a couple of them.

Adrian felt no guilt as they fell. These people were human traffickers. Their lives were forfeit the moment that the bastards had claimed that kind of dominion over others. No one had a right to that. 

Many of the Tyger Claws managed to get to some kind of cover that blocked shots from both sides, but Adrian and Rebecca managed to start picking off the few that had been unlucky enough to not get into full cover after his initial surprise attack. With them out of the way, Adrian aimed to his left, where a few washers and dryers were still whirling away with clothing in their interiors. An idea came to mind as he started charging a shot and aimed at some of the machines near the Tyger Claws who’d managed to get cover. The twin magnets on the sides of the Achilles’ barrel pulled in and started to build up energy, the electricity visible over the sides just before he fired, the kick significantly lessened with the addition of his cyberarm to brace himself, but still enough to almost knock him off balance. He hadn’t quite been prepared for the amount of kick this weapon would give.

It hit the machines dead on, the motion enough to cause one of them to tip over and crush a Tyger Claw instantly and mercilessly. While they were still in the midst of their shock, Rebecca came crashing through one of the laundromat’s windows with a vicious grin and a wild laugh, dual wielding Omaha pistols with a striking powder blue and neon pink coloration to them as she tore into their ranks like a storm of gunpowder, blood, and sheer, bestial carnage. Adrian called his shots, covering her as she took on the brunt of the Tyger Claw forces. 

At some point, the gang members had the sense to switch to melee weapons, taking out katanas and extending their Mantis Blades, trying to gore her through or slice her up. She was far too slippery for them, though, her experience in combat on full display as she sidestepped one Claw’s katana and caused him to collide with another’s Mantis Blade. With a kick to one’s back, she caused the two to impale each other, giving her more than enough room to dodge the strikes that followed from the rest of the attackers with that same manic laugh on her lips.

Adrian continued his covering fire until he had a sudden and overwhelming urge to duck. He followed that instinct, rolling with the motion and avoiding a Tyger Claw who’d managed to sneak up on him, the man screaming in rage now that stealth was no longer an active requirement. Adrian kicked out, catching the man in the knee and pushing him back, giving the young merc room to breathe. He brought his Achilles to bear, firing four times at the vicious looking man. Two of the shots went wide, barely even clipping the man, but two found their marks in his gut and shoulder, the bullets causing a grievous amount of bleeding.

With a beastial growl appropriate for the animal his gang had been named for, the man leapt for him. Adrian barely managed to roll to the side, losing his Achilles in the commotion, the rifle clattering to the ground as it spun out of his reach. Gritting his teeth, he prepared for melee combat, deflecting and parrying the man’s mantis blades with his cybernetic arm as best he could. Not matter how sharp it was, metal against metal typically resulted in a stalemate.

Of course, Adrian was much less proficient in close combat than the man with the Mantis Blades, demonstrated by the fact that he managed to slip past his guard several times to give him passing cuts and gashes, the wounds stinging and bleeding as the fight wore on. If things stayed like this, then Adrian would give in before the other man did. He needed to end this, and he needed to end it now.

Cold Blood ran through his veins, the icy calm giving him a good view of the situation objectively. Truth be told. the solution to this was simple. In fact, it was one of the first things that M had properly taught him. It just sucked that this asshole had to have a Mantis Blade. But that was how it was. No point in bitching about it if he was dead.

Adrian deflected the Mantis Blade on the next pass, wrapping his cyberarm around the man’s arm and locking it to his body. Before the man could attempt to tear it away and injure his opponent, Adrian pulled the arm into a lock, forcing the man forward a step. Then he put his left leg over the man’s shoulder, lifted himself up, and flipped him around, the two of them falling to the ground as Adrian held the Tyger Claw in an arm bar.

He pulled. He pulled as had as he could. The muscles in his back tightened with effort, his legs tensed at the shoulder as he tried to separate ball from socket, and his neck strained with the stress of pulling a man’s arm out of place so violently. All it would take was effort and consistent pressure, and the man would break. He would. He had to.

And with a sickening pop, one man’s scream, and a string of not so polite curses in heated Japanese, Adrian knew he’d done exactly that.

He let go of the arm, useless as a weapon now as the man pawed uselessly at it. He screamed and cried and cursed, but Adrian heard none of it. Instead, he brought his cybernetic fist down on the man’s face, driving the back of his head into the hard floor. Then he did it again. And again. And again. 

When he was sure that the man would not get up again, he turned to Rebecca, finding his Achilles rifle in her hands as she finished off the last of the Tyger Claws that had survived their barrage of attacks. She gave him a grin as she kicked one of the gang members onto their back, firing at him three times in the chest and once more in the head for good measure. Given the clicks that sounded out from the gun soon afterwards, it was likely only because she ran out of ammo.

“Good job there, choom,” she said with a smile, tossing the Achilles back to him. Adrian caught it deftly, taking a moment to reload it properly and make sure that no extensive damage had been done. Satisfied with his cursory scan, he searched around for any Tyger Claws that might be lying in wait, now that the ambush was over. But there was nothing. The laundromat was dead silent save for the droning motions of the machines all around them.

“Damn. That… couldn’t have been all of them, right?” Adrian said in disbelief. “There have to be more.”

“Maybe a few, but I think most of the fuckers who were supposed to be guarding this place are dead now,” Rebecca said as she kicked at one of the corpses, causing it to roll over and reveal the woman’s bloodied chest. The ex-Mox shot her twice in the head for good measure, just to make sure she was dead. It seemed that seeing female members of the Tyger Claws made her even more pissed off than the male ones. Given the fact that the victims of sex trafficking tended to be women more often than not, Adrian could understand that anger.

“Well, either way, we still need to find that guy’s daughter,” Adrian said, gesturing to a few of the doorways with his Achilles. “Who gave you the gig, anyway?”

“Wakako, actually.”

Adrian raised a brow to her words as they went further inside, weapons up as they searched the first floor of the laundromat for more Tyger Claws. “Won’t she get pissed that you’re killing all her guys? I don’t know the exact details, but I also know she’s pretty close to the gang itself. Wasn’t she married to, like, three of the previous heads of the Tyger Claws?”

“Five, actually,” Rebecca said as she kicked a door open, scanning the room for enemies only to find it full of cleaning supplies. “And in her opinion, if Tyger Claws get sloppy enough that they get in the crosshairs of a merc or edgerunner or someone coming to her to put up a job, then they were too stupid and reckless to be worth saving in the first place. She's a pragmatist in the most brutal sense of the word.”

“Damn. That’s cold.” Adrian thought back to his own mentor, M. Though their interactions had been generally positive, and even tended towards being warm, the man was a pragmatist through and through. One that tended towards neutrality rather than violence and death, but still a pragmatist nonetheless.

“Yeah. She actually helps out with kidnapping cases a lot,” Rebecca commented, a frown on her face as she contemplated something. “It’s probably mostly to injure her competitors, though. Still, it’s at least something good from the whole situation, so I’ll help her if it lets me take a chunk out of any traffickers I come across. Besides, she gives good edds.”

Eventually, the two of them moved on to the basement, having found no more Tyger Claws in residence on the ground floor. The basement itself was cavernous as things went, with more than enough open space to scan for any remaining Tyger Claws that might have been lying in wait. But, of course, there wasn’t even one of the fuckers anywhere that they could see.

“Huh. I thought that there’d be more of ‘em,” Adrian said, lowering his Achilles as he and Rebecca started searching the space for any remaining survivors. When they found none, they quickly moved on to the most obvious part of the entire room: the blatant vault embedded into one of the walls. 

“Tch. Sick fuckers,” Rebecca said, searching around for a way to open it. Adrian quicky found a panel in the wall and stripped it off, revealing a series of wires connected to the mechanism that likely connected to the door itself. Though he wasn’t sure why or who someone had managed to build something that big underground with no one noticing, he quickly found a way to jury-rig a response from the door to get it to open. Rebecca quickly lined up her pistols towards the opening, and Adrian did the same with his newly acquired Achilles, waiting for any Tyger Claws that might be waiting.

The only thing they saw were a collection of women, and a few men, in various states of undress, some with ripped dressed and shirts while others were wholly naked. Adrian kept his eyes peeled as he scanned the room of bodies. There was no one. Not one Tyger Claw laying wait, not one enemy to kill or brutalize or exact justice upon.

It frustrated him. It would’ve made dealing with the rage in his chest a much easier prospect.

“Kairi Fujisaki?” Rebecca called out, scanning the crowd for a reaction. A Japanese woman in her twenties stood up then, waving slightly to get their attention. As things went, she was far more clothed that some of the others in the vault, but the front of her shirt has still been torn open.

“It’s your lucky day,” the short woman said with a smile. “Your dad sent us. The rest of you can feel free to catch a ride out of here, but after you’re out of the building, you’re on your own. I suggest you leave Westbrook before more Claws show up to fuck up your day more than they already have.”

And with that, the people moved in a wave, and the two mercs let them pass. Adrian wasn’t sure how far they would get. It was entirely possible that the Claws would recapture them again within hours. Or that someone else would come along and put them in this exact situation all over again. At the moment, Adrian didn’t really care. He was just happy that, on some level, they had done good. Given people a chance. That was worth a lot to him. In ways he couldn’t explain with words.

“Yeah, I know. But if you want to contact me again, you should go through Maine. He’s the leader of my regular crew,” Rebecca said, Adrian listening to one half of the conversation as he took tentative sips from the glass of whiskey that Tyler had put in front of him. 

“Yeah. Uh-huh. No, I actually had some help,” Rebecca said, turning to him with a cheeky smile and a thumbs up. “New guy on the scene. Handled himself pretty well. Might be hearing about him soon.”

Silence for several on her side before a humorless chuckle came from Rebecca’s lips. “I suppose that’s also a possibility, but I have a good feeling about him. I’ll leave you to your own judgements, though. Yeah. See you around.”

With that, the telltale glow of a holo call faded from her eyes, and she sighed in relief as she started chugging down her drink. She set her glass down with a loud clink and sighed heavily. “Fucking hell, talking to that woman is nerve-wracking.”

“I can only imagine,” Adrian said. Though he had yet to speak to Wakako, he knew that she was not a woman to cross lightly. In contrast, the only other fixer he’d worked with, Regina Jones, was just as intense but a lot more understanding. 

“Well, now that all of that’s done…” Rebecca’s eyes lit up again as she transferred the agreed amount. “Thanks for helping me out today.”

“No problem,” Adrian said, with a couple thousand eddies more than he’d had that morning. “Figured it was the least I could do, after you helped me out.”

“Eh, it was nothing really,” Rebecca said with a wave of her hand. 

“… why did you help me out, anyway?” Adrian asked. It was a question that he’d been asking himself ever since they’d met up a couple of days ago, and had become gradually more important in his mind over the course of the gig they’d just pulled off. “Most people barely looked at me. And even you didn’t notice me at first. So… why did you help me?”

Rebecca listened to his question, her face falling into an expression of neutral contemplation as she thought on the subject. It had been very direct of Adrian, but he also knew that was how Rebecca would want him to ask something like this. Straightforward, no underhanded bullshit or guilt-tripping to get a certain reaction. An honest question for an honest answer. At least, that was how she’d come off to him. 

Eventually, she gave another sigh, looking into the depths of her glass as she answered. “I’m not completely sure. It might’ve just felt right. Or maybe I saw an echo of the pain I’ve experienced in my life reflected in you for the briefest of moments and I felt sympathetic. Or maybe I just wanted to do some kind of good after a really shitty week. Might be all of ‘em. Might be none of ‘em.

“I don’t regret it, though,” Rebecca said, turning back to him with a smile. “I got a night of free drinks out of it, after all!”

Adrian chuckled at the joke. “I think I’ll be starting a tab of my own. I’ll probably be coming back here. It feels… nice, I guess. To have some consistency.”

“Hm. I know what you mean,” Rebecca said before briefly thinking on something. “Wanna make this a thing?”

“You mean meeting up?”

“Yeah. I tend to have post-gig celebrations with my regular crew, but I also need some space from ‘em sometimes, y’know? This is also one of the only places that’s actually banned my brother, so I don’t have worry about that asshole barging in and ruining things.”

“Hmm… sure. Not like I have a whole lot better to do most nights,” Adrian said. While he wouldn’t be coming in to the Garden of Choice every night, he did need something beyond merc work, training with M, and caring for his sister to keep him happy and sane both. “What would we be doing, anyway?”

“Play a couple of games to decide who’s paying for drinks that night, and then share some kickass stories about our gigs. That sound good?”

“Sounds awesome,” Adrian said. “Sounds nice to have a drinking buddy.”

“I think it sounds great, too,” Rebecca replied with a smile. “I’d like to talk to someone I don’t want to shoot in the face on a more consistent basis. Don’t get me wrong, I really like my crew, but they can be a lot sometimes. And my brother is… well, a fucking lunatic and a horndog through and through.”

Says the woman who threatened to piss on people’s bones just a few hours ago, Adrian thought to himself. He didn’t voice that thought, however, and just nodded.

“So, what’re your plans? Got any big gigs lined up?”

“Nah. Mostly I’m just going through the motions, waiting for things to come up. Training, looking for the next payday. Should have another gig in a few days.”

Rebecca nodded, understanding the approach. Adrian was relatively new to the mercenary world, and while most people would rather jump in head first, he was taking a more careful approach. M had made no objections to that, and continued their training as normal. According to him, he had no place in the way that Adrian made a name for himself as a mercenary, only that he did. They were master and student. And for the moment, that was all they were.

“Think you’ll stick with Solo work for now?”

“Probably. Don’t know a whole lot of people other than you, and while Tyler’s ripped as hell, I doubt he’s in the mercenary line of work.”

“Not anymore,” the bartender said with a wink. “Doesn’t mean I can’t crack some skulls.”

“I have no doubt about that,” Adrian replied with a smile and a raised glass. “You’re the third scariest motherfucker I’ve ever come across in Night City.”

“Hm? Who’re the top two?” Rebecca asked.

“Well… second on the list is you,” he admitted. “You can say some pretty scary shit when you want to.”

“If it works, it works. Can’t help it if I’m a wordsmith for threats. Anyway, who’s in first?”

“No comment,” Adrian said with a wry smile on his face. When Rebecca looked like she would object to the notion, Adrian raised a hand. “I know you’d like to know all those secrets I’ve got, but this isn’t one I’ll budge on, alright?”

“… okay, fine,” the short woman said with a pout, crossing her legs and - fucking hell, he could not keep his mind off those goddamn thighs of hers. She might well be the death of him if he couldn’t get those kinds of thoughts under some kind of control. “Suppose you’ve got a right to some of those. But hey, if you ever think of getting in with a crew… I could put in a good word for you with mine.”

“… you serious?”

“I didn’t stutter, did I?” she asked with a smirk. “Say the word, and I can put you on their radar. I haven’t brought in a stray yet, so Maine’ll be a bit more accommodating to who I choose to recommend, especially since I’ve been with ‘em for a couple of years. You could be a good fit for them. So? What do you say?”

Adrian thought about that for a few seconds before shaking his head. “Thanks, but as cool as that sounds, I think I’ll be better off doing Solo work for now. Today was fun, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t really know these guys like you do. I’d have to get a feel for them, and that would probably involve a job of some kind as a ‘test drive’ to see how I gel with the crew as a whole.”

Rebecca raised a brow at that. “You figured that out from a few sentences of description?”

“It’s a logical conclusion to come to if you all trust each other that much,” Adrian said. “I’ll think about it, but for now the answer’s gonna have to be… well, a ‘not now’ is the best I can do. Sorry.”

“Hey, you’re not obligated to go along with it just because I offered,” Rebecca replied, waving away his apology with a smile. “Thanks for keeping your mind open to it, though. It’s good to have options. And hey, if word spreads about you, Maine might just approach you himself. He doesn’t do that too often nowadays, but it’d sure be a sight to see.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you,” he said. 

“So, what’ll you do with that Achilles?”

“Oh that thing is mine,” he said with a raised finger. “Took it from an enemy as a spoil of battle. It is mine by the most sacred of rights across all cultures and religions.”

“Do those rights happen to involve the words ‘dibs’ or ‘mine?’”

“So what if they do? My point still stands.”

“Fair enough,” Rebecca replied with a shrug. “It’s your weapon. Not like I could use it all that well anyway; it was hell on my shoulders.”

“I mean… I don’t think they had someone of your stature in mind when they designed the thing.” Rebecca turned a glare on Adrian at that, to which he promptly raised his hands in surrender. “Not an insult, just an observation!”

The glare continued for a few more seconds before she cut it off, giving him a big smile as she raised her glass of colorful, mixed alcohol in front of her face. “Then I propose a toast!”

“To… what exactly?’ Adrian asked, raising his whiskey in turn. 

“To the birth of new friendships and the death of all the dumb bastards who get in our way!” she said with a cheery smile that matched her toe of voice, despite the fact the grim nature of her words.

Adrian couldn’t help but return her beautiful smile anyway. “To friendship, then.”

The clinking of glasses rang out through the bar, and a new bond, forged in iron, gunpowder and the blood of slain enemies, was solidified that night. What it would lead to? A song that the whole of Night City would one day sing. But that was for another day.

Adrian Walker’s Status:

LEVEL: 5 → 6

SREET CRED: 2 → 4

€$: 2955 → 4355

Stats and Skills:

BODY: 4

Athletics: Lvl 2

Annihilation: Lvl 1

Street Brawler: Lvl 3

REFLEX: 6 → 7

Assault: Lvl 1 → 2

Handguns: Lvl 4

Blades: Lvl 1

TECH: 6

Crafting: Lvl 3

Engineering: Lvl 1

INTELLIGENCE: 3

Breach Protocol: Lvl 1

Quickhacking: Lvl 1

COOL: 6

Ninjitsu: Lvl 2 → 3

Cold Blood: Lvl 4

Notable Cyberware:

FORNTAL CORTEX: None | None | None 

OCCULAR SYSTEM: Dead-Eye Optic

CIRCULATORY SYSTEM: None | None | None

IMMUNE SYSTEM: None | None

NERVOUS SYSTEM: None | None

INTEGUMENTARY SYSTEM: None | None | None

OPERATING SYSTEM: Dead-Eye Combat Analysis Regulation & Assistance Device [Mrk 0]

SKELETON: None | None

HANDS: None

ARMS: Military Grade Arasaka Cyberarm

LEGS: None

Chapter Text

June 13th, 2075.

Night City, CA.

12:02 pm PST.

6 months and 1 week before a certain car accident. 

Adrian would have to start looking for another gig tomorrow. It would likely still be in Watson, and he while he would prefer to get to it soon, it was just as prudent to get other things done in the meantime. He’d paid off the month’s rent, had some food in the fridge, and even managed to get some more headway into his debt to M. That still left him with about a thousand or so eddies in his wallet, and he was unsure of what to spend it on.

Still, he figured that a visit to Misty’s wouldn’t be a bad idea. Hs cyberware was holding up well enough, but it would probably be a good idea to at least get a check up, maybe see how Misty was doing these days. It had been almost a month since he’d seen her and Vik.

Plus, it might be a good idea to make sure my ribs healed properly, Adrian though as he twisted around gingerly. The motions weren’t painful, which was the most obvious sign of good that he could think of in that moment, but he still wanted to make sure. If they hadn’t set properly, they’d have to be re-broken, which wasn’t something that the young Solo was at all looking forward to.

He entered Misty’s Esoterica to the sound of chimes and calming music, the relaxed notes easing him into the space. It was nice, being back here. He’d forgotten how calming the place was, a contrast to basically everywhere else in Night City. Instead of the noise and din of crowds and traffic, there was only the gentle ringing of bells and the pleasant voice of this place’s owner.

“Adrian!” Misty called from the front, a wide smile on her face. “You’re looking a lot better! How’ve you been?”

“Doing better,” he replied with a smile, leaning his arms against the counter top before he smiled at her. “Is the doc in today?”

“He is, but he’s with a client right now. You’ll have to wait a bit,” Misty apologized with a sheepish smile. 

“Hey, it’s not like I have anywhere else to be today.”

Adrian searched around the shop for anything that might catch his eye. While he wasn’t particularly interested in any of the stuff that Misty was selling, that didn’t mean his interest was non-existent. He did think the dragon statue might be something he could get once he had more edds saved up. Dragons were cool. They had always been his favorite fantastical creatures. 

“I see you like my dragon statue,” Misty said, smirking as Adrian’s gaze snapped back to her in surprise. He sighed. He really needed to stop getting so caught up in a moment that he forgot where he was. 

“Sorry, it looks really cool,” he admitted. “Do you sell anything like that? I know it’s a long shot, but I’ve gotta ask.”

“I do, actually.”

“Seriously?” he said in surprise.

“Sure. Some of ‘em act as incense burners, some have secret compartments, some have both, and some are just really nice to look at,” Misty explained. “They’re expensive, though. I have to do custom orders for them, and they cost a few thousand to make.”

Adrian sucked in a hiss of breath through his teeth. Damn. If just making the things cost a few thousand eddies, what did she sell them for? It sounded like something a corpo would buy. He was about to ask as much, but the sly smirk on Misty’s face told Adrian that she’d already guessed at what was on his mind. 

“Believe it or not, I actually get more customers than Vik does. Larger pool of clientele means more chances of selling top-end stuff. Though I’ve only sold one of those dragon statues so far this year, so it’s been a bit of a rough go of things on that front.”

The young merc nodded, rubbing at the edge of his burn scar as it started to itch slightly. That still happened sometimes. While the majority of the scar itself had healed and wasn’t at risk of infection, the skin around it was still adjusting to the fact that it now had a permanent reminder of that nice etched int his face. It did look pretty cool, but he tried to keep the scratching to a minimum. The last thing he needed was for the thing to get worse than it already was.

Misty noticed the tick, frowning at him in disappointment. She even crossed her arms to make that point even more clear.

“Sorry,” he said, blushing slightly as he forced his hand to come away from the scar itself. “Acts up sometimes.”

“Aren’t you using the cream I gave you?”

“I am! It’s just…” How the hell was he supposed to put this without losing his head? “… it’s cold, alright?”

“Cold?”

“Yeah, like, uncomfortably cold. Feels weird against my scar. I’m trading a familiar discomfort for whatever the hell that is.”

“Okay, I get that it feels weird, but that’s probably because you’re not used to it yet. Have you been using it consistently?”

“I… no,” Adrian admitted. He really couldn’t lie to her, not with that damned stare of hers. The goth makeup certainly added to her air of intimidation. “I tried, but it gets really distracting when I’m out on a job.”

“More distracting than an annoying itch or getting shot at?”

“Yes to the former, no to the latter,” Adrian said. 

Misty thought for a few moments before sighing. “Well, at least try to put it on when you don’t have a job going on, alright? I do worry about you. It’d be a shame to let that scar get infected. I don’t imagine you’d want realskin grafts.”

“I really don’t,” Adrian agreed. “Anyway, if no one’s using the chairs right now, I’ll take one of ‘em.”

“You’re lucky you’re a choom, Adrian,” Misty said with a sigh. “I only use those for aura readings.”

“Can’t you tell at a glance?” he asked, curious about the subject. 

“Not that talented,” Misty said with a shake of her head. “If I was, I wouldn’t have chairs dedicated to the purpose.”

“Hm. Well, I’ll trust your word. Not like I have a whole lot of experience with all of this stuff outside of you.”

Misty nodded, going back to the counter as she started shuffling the cards in her tarot deck. Actually, was that a different one? It was definitely a different style than the oes she’d used for him. Well, it would make sense if she had more than one deck, just in case, but that first one had been rather striking, in his opinion. Very much a part of the Night City aesthetic.

As he started to settle into the chair for the wait, a bolo call started coming through. The icon attached to the caller was one of a horned bovine skull in the Mox style, with the words PK DICK in big letters along the bottom. It was Rebecca’s caller ID photo, and took after two of her tattoos: the one that wrapped around her thigh, and the one displayed on her midriff. She had actually shown him the previous night, though she had been fairly drunk in the moment. Fortunately, it was only long enough to show him and not long enough for anyone but him to notice. It still made him a little red in the face to think about it though.

Then again, she’s probably used to wearing less clothes than most people, so I suppose I can’t judge her too much.

He answered the call, and a slurred, tired voice came through the other end of the line.

“Urrgh… what the fuck happened last night, man?” Rebecca asked, her tired voice coming out in a groan. “I can barely remember anything after I flashed you.”

“Becca, you just showed me your tattoo. I’m not sure that counts as flashing me,” Adrian said, failing to keep the blush off of his face this time. Misty noticed, and the knowing smile that graced her lips certainly wasn’t helping. He waved her off, and got back to the building conversation with Rebecca.

“You got super flustered about it, so I think it counts,” she commented, a sly smile audible even through the obvious pain of her hangover. “It was cute. I like how cute you are when you’re flustered.”

“I-I don’t see how this is relevant to what you forgot about last night,” Adrian said, trying to change the subject as he fought a losing battle in maintaining control of his facial expressions.

“Hm? Oh, that’s about where stuff starts to get blurry. I dunno why I remember you getting flustered so well, but after that I think… fuck, I might’ve punched someone?”

“Yeah, they uh… they may have called you a… certain word, and you promptly laid them out.”

“Damn. I usually remember violence, even through hangovers,” Rebecca mused to herself. “Weird. I remember all the shit we talked about perfectly. Fuck, I don’t even remember how I got home.”

“I took you by NCART. We got a lot less stares than I thought we were going to,” Adrian admitted. “You managed to share your address with me before you passed out entirely.”

“Mm,” she acknowledged, the sound of shifting sheets coming through the call before they stopped abruptly, as though she’d realized something. “Why am I naked?”

“The last thing I remember you saying after I started leaving your apartment was something along the lines of ‘too fucking hot in here,’ after which you immediately started stripping. I, uh… left pretty soon after that.”

Though not after getting a pretty explicit view of her in her underwear. He’d barely managed to turn around and leave before she’d started stripping out of that too. 

“Hmm… see anything you liked?” she asked in a teasing tone. Adrian was getting really tired of her making him blush so easily. 

“Maybe I did,” he answered back. He didn’t know where the words were coming from, but he followed them nonetheless. 

“Did you now?” she questioned. “Anything in specific?”

“Tattoos looked really good,” he said, noticing that Misty was rolling her eyes and covering her ears. “It’s a nice contrast with your skin.”

“Fucking better be. I paid a frankly unreasonable amount for these dermal implants,” she said with a pleased tone. “Anyway, I thought you were gonna talk about my ass or something.”

“That seemed like a bridge too far,” Adrian replied.

“I appreciate your attempt at tact,” Rebecca said with a chuckle that soon faded into a pained groan. “Fuck me, I had way too much to drink last night.”

“I’ll say. You just about doubled your tab that night.”

“Fuck me,” she cursed again. 

“Not sure you’re up for that quite yet.”

“… y’know what? I’m gonna let you have that. I walked right into it,” Rebecca said with a reluctant sigh.

“I figured,” Adrian replied with a smirk. “Anyways, how’s your head?”

“I mean, it’s been a while since I’ve done that, but I haven’t had any complaints yet.”

.

..

…

“… what?”

Rebecca let out a squeak in realization as she tried to recover. “I-I think I’ll live. Once my brain quits pounding around like a fucking jackhammer.

“Hey, how are you not still in bed? You drank almost as much as I did.”

“Unlike you, I know how to pace myself.”

It also helps that I’ve got a lot more body mass for the alcohol to effect, but we’re not gonna talk about that.

“Hey, Tyler’s mixes are a fucking godsend! I can’t help it if I drink ‘em like water; they’re addictive as hell!”

Truth be told, Tyler’s concoctions were no more addictive than standard alcohol, but the fact remained that the man could mix a mean drink like no one’s business. He’d actually had a few the previous night, and he’d immediately forced himself to switch back to whiskey for the rest of the night, lest he end up as Rebecca currently was: asleep until noon and hungover as all hell. There was no way he’d be able to resist downing at least a dozen of those things and potentially give himself alcohol poisoning. 

“Well, other than the fact that you couldn’t remember all that much after you… flashed me, what did you want to talk about?”

“I wanted my first interaction of the day to at least be a little positive. Pilar’s my bro and all, but he is such a fucking horndog that it’s honestly annoying. If he weren’t so good in a fight and so damn useful as a techie, I don’t think Maine would put up with him as much as he does. He can also be really entertaining when he wants to be, so that’s another point in his favor.”

“You guys work on the same crew?”

“Yeah. Well, I joined up before he did, then Dorio brought him in independently. As long as we don’t step on each other’s toes too much, we can get along well enough to get jobs done. Still want to shoot the fucker most days.”

“I get that. Sorta.”

“Hm? Oh right, you’ve got a sister, dontcha?”

“Yeah,” Adrian said, a fondness entering his voice. “She’s… not doing so hot right now, though.”

“I won’t pry.”

“Thanks.”

“Anyway… what kind of girls do you like?”

“… that came out of nowhere,” Adrian said with surprise. “It also sounds like some kind of trap.”

“That’s because it probably is,” Misty commented from her counter with a smile. Adrian gave her a slight frown before he focused on Rebecca’s response.

“What? Nooo… I mean, it is, but I am legitimately curious what kind of women you’re into.”

“There’s no scenario where I answer that question seriously and you don’t walk away with some serious blackmail material,” Adrian deadpanned.

“I mean, if you already know what’s gonna happen, why not take the risk? C’mon, what’s your type?”

Honestly, Adrian didn’t have many opinions on who he was attracted to specifically. He knew that wasn’t attracted to men of any kind, and his teenage years had been a mess of hormones and hidden porn vids, which were quite the embarrassment to look back on these days. 

But her mention of attraction only made the image of her nearly naked pop into his head as she stripped off her clothes. It just… fucking hell, so many things about her were just so goddamn sexy to him. Her style, her eyes, the neon pink tattoos against her porcelain white skin, her goddamn thighs. Even the battle maniac side of her was sexy in a ‘kill me lovingly’ kind of way. 

Still, even with all of that, there was something else that drew him in. She hadn’t needed to help him the way she had that night. Hadn’t needed to reach out to a stranger in need. And yet, despite her own seeming uncertainty, she had, and in doing so, she had helped him far more than he could ever properly express.

Maybe it was a flight of fancy. Maybe it was a fast track to getting his heart broken. Or maybe he was just being blatantly stupid. But he couldn’t help it. Adrian was drawn to her kindness. That was the best way he could describe it, in the moment.

Of course, giving an answer like that, no matter how genuine, was a fast track to getting himself dismissed. So he went for a middle of the road approach. An answer that wasn’t really an answer at all.

“Honestly? On an objective level, I think most women are attractive to me. But if we’re talking personalities or whatever, I think the jury’s still out on that one. Haven’t exactly been in a relationship before.”

“… so you’re a virgin?”

“Yeah, so? Also, how the hell did you figure that out?”

“Nothing wrong with that, just… surprising. Most street kids lose their V-Cards in their mid-teens because they’re too stupid to think those kinds of things through. Like I said, nothing wrong with it. Legit surprised me is all.

“Also, the only people who come up with an answer that vague, no matter how true it is, are people who’ve never had sex and people who’ve had very little experience with that part of life. You, my choom, are both.”

“So glad my inexperience in the fields of romance and sex is proving to be so entertaining.”

“It really is,” she replied with a chuckle.

“… seriously though, not even a joytoy?”

“First off: no. Secondly, even if that is an option now, I don’t really feel comfortable with paying someone to sleep with them.”

“Nothing wrong with honest sex work. Pay a fee, you get to have a bit of fun for a night.”

“I’m not saying it’s wrong, I’m just not personally comfortable with it.”

“Fair. I actually preferred casual hookups for a while, but that got kinda boring fast.”

“Oh my god…”

The conversation meandered about for several more minutes before the pounding in Rebecca’s head couldn’t be pushed to the back of her mind any longer, and she reluctantly closed the holo call as she started searching their cupboards for an actual cup so that she could drink some water. 

She found one, eventually, but it was sitting all by it’s lonesome in the back of one of the taller cabinets. Given her current hungover status, she wasn’t all that confident in her sense of balance at the moment. Still, she had to try, so she leapt up from her tippy toes and managed to barley snag the thing with the edges of her fingers.

Hah! Gotcha, bitch- oh fucking shit on a stick, my head hurts.

Eventually, Rebecca managed to drag herself over to the sink and fill said glass. She drank from it greedily, draining the entire glass in less than five seconds and putting it back under the faucet for a refill. She was actually pretty fucking parched as well, now that she had time to pay attention to things other than her pounding headache. Which was still present, just not enough to directly impact her thoughts like it had just minutes ago. 

Now that she had the space of mind to think properly, she realized that her brother wasn’t around. This was a good thing, as she had yet to put on anything to cover her modesty, and she wasn’t really comfortable being naked around him, and vice versa. She almost chuckled at the concept. Truth be told, if she and Pilar weren’t living together for financial reasons, she’d probably be strolling around naked all the time. It felt good to not have to wear a bra sometimes.

Rebecca still rummaged through her drawers until she manged to find a matching black bra and panties, throwing them on before collapsing back onto her bed, completely bored. Honestly, now that she could think straight, she was tempted to call Adrian again just to see what he was up to, but he’d warned her off of calling him again for at least an hour since he was going to be busy at a ripperdoc.

She sighed. Honestly, Rebecca wasn’t sure what she’d been thinking when she’d flashed him. She probably hadn’t been thinking all that much in the first place. She couldn’t say she regretted it, though. The flustered blush that had spread across his face had been very cute.

Rebecca was secure enough in herself to admit that Adrian was attractive, in a way. It was a mix of perceptions that just seemed to work for this guy in particular. Not beefed up like one of the Animals, but not nearly slim enough to be a netrunner. His frame had a litheness she would attribute more to a feline predator. Graceful and poised, but full of hidden power.

His features were somewhat plain, but not in a boring way. That was a phenomenon that she wasn’t sure how to describe. He was handsome, but not in a distracting way like most models were. Smooth like silver, but sharp like a knife at the same time. His eyes, one grey like gunmetal while the other was wholly black with a white crosshair design for an iris, contrasted in ways that might have drawn attention to him… if it weren’t for the burn scar that covered nearly a quarter of his face.

Rebecca rubbed at a suddenly sharp pain in her abdomen that hadn’t been there for… years. Like a memory of a certain kind of agony that had decided to come and haunt her in that moment. She let it fade back into oblivion where it belonged, and focused back on Adrian’s face. On his scar.

“… would I be a terrible person if I said I found it kinda sexy?”

Probably. She felt guilty for thinking of something so painful in that way, but now that she had some time to process what she could remember of the previous night, she could admit it to herself, no matter how guilty it made her feel inside. She found Adrian’s scar sexy. And that fact made her kinda feel like a piece of shit.

She decided, in that moment, to do what any sane person would do in this kind of situation: repress that side of her attraction under a mountain of guilt. Rebecca doubted that Adrian would appreciate someone being attracted to him on the basis of one of the worst things that had ever happened to him. Especially since it had happened so recently.

“Okay Becca, enough of being horny for a bit. Gotta think of something else… hm… actually, how would he get on with everyone if he decided to accept my offer?”

It varied wildly depending on who she was thinking of. Dorio would probably be interested in his cyberarm and hand-to-hand skills, and might even be interested in teaching him a few things. From what little she’d seen of his skills in that department, he wasn’t exactly a pugilist, but he got by well enough in close combat. Kiwi would probably dismiss him as another combatant to throw at problems in meatspace, though she would definitely appreciate his lethality with firearms. Rebecca knew that she certainly did. He looked really good shooting guns.

No! No horny shit! Focus.

It was harder than she’d thought it would be, but she managed it. He and Pilar would not get along at all. If not because of the fact that they shared few things in common, then because of her brother’s overtly sexual comments that made most people uncomfortable and the rest want to punch him in the face. Adrian might actually do that, now that she thought of it, and she certainly wouldn’t stop him if that happened. She’d probably laugh at the sight. 

Falco was a bit of a wild card. He was only a semi-regular with the crew itself, having joined up shortly after… after Sasha died. It was still hard to think of her, even after almost a year had passed. She shook her head of those thoughts, and focused back in on the ex-nomad. Of the crew, the only person she knew about less was Kiwi, and that was because she hadn’t told anyone about her past, not even her apprentice. He and Adrian would probably get along just fine, given their quiet natures and sarcastic dispositions. The latter was a lot less obvious with Adrian than with Falco, but it was certainly there, buried under a heap of caution and uncertainty. She’d seen a bit of it last night, and it had legitimately entertained her even if it had gotten on her nerves a bit.

Then there was Lucy. The most recent addition to the crew, as well as Kiwi’s apprentice and the crew’s backup runner, Rebecca had yet to learn anything extensive about her. The best she had on her was that she’d come to Night City a few months ago and got picked up by Kiwi, who introduced her to the crew. She was… well, cold-hearted bitch wasn’t a great descriptor for anyone, but it was the best she had when it came to her. It also didn’t help that she was five foot nine without heels and was two years younger than Rebecca was at nineteen. Tall ass bitch.

Sighing, the petite young woman cleared her head of those personal opinions. They wouldn’t help with what she was trying to do. Honestly, she had no idea how Lucy would react to him. She hadn’t hung around the girl long enough to get much of a sense for her other than the aforementioned ‘cold-hearted bitch’ moniker. Though she did feel some sympathy for her because of the fact that she was sometimes the victim of Pilar’s worst traits.

That left Maine. The big man himself was an upfront sort of guy. It was part of what she liked about him. Didn’t care that she was an ex-Mox or even a former sex worker. As long as you could perform, he didn’t give a flying fuck where you came from. She appreciated that. Adrian was kinda cagey about the finer details of his past; entirely understandable given his as of yet unspoken circumstances, but it wouldn’t be a problem for Maine. Hell, the fact that Adrian was a decent gun so soon into his career as a merc was a lot more than some who took up this profession could boast, especially towards the start. Sure, he wasn’t perfect, but Maine had never been much of a stickler for exactly how a job got done, only that it was done and done with relative competency.

Plus, the fact that the guy has so little chrome will probably be at least a little interesting to the big man. The ones that she could think of were his interface plug, his OS and Shard slots, that crosshair eye and his cyberarm. That was everything obvious. He might have a replacement organ or two, but that seemed… unlikely. She wasn’t sure why, it just did. Definitely no dermal implants; she’d have noticed, having some herself, although they were largely just for the aesthetic. It did make her tattoos pop a lot more than they would’ve with her natural skin tone. Even if she had already been about as pale as a ghost back before the implants.

All in all, he’d probably do well in the crew, minus potentially killing Pilar. She’d have to put a stop to that. Or better yet, stop them from meeting outside her supervision. Her brother might have been a perverted, sex-crazed, depraved piece of shit who deserved everything coming to him and worse, but he was still her brother. Only she was allowed to kill him.

Hmm… overall, he really would be a good fit. Or maybe that’s just me being hopeful. I’d like it if my two groups of friends could get along. Doesn’t happen often enough in this fucking city.

Well, she wasn’t certain she could call the people from Garden of Choice a group, since she only regularly associated with Tyler and Adrian when she went there, but her point remained the same. She just hoped that it wouldn’t come back to bite her in some way.

… damn, I gotta pee.

“Hey there Vik,” Adrian greeted with a wave once he was let in. “Hope I came at a good time.”

The man wheeled around in his chair with a smile clear on his face. “It’s not problem, kid. Had a free appointment, so you’re just filling up my hours with something to do. Anyway, you’re here for a standard checkup?”

Adrian nodded, fumbling around in his jacket until he managed to find the note that M had given to him a couple days ago. “M said to give this to you. Said you’d know what it meant.”

Vik raised a brow at that, but took the paper without questioning it. Truth be told, seeing almost any kind of stationary on the street was a rarity, since it was cheaper in the long term to just stick to digital. Even if Adrian knew how to write in longhand, his handwriting could barely qualify as anything more than chicken scratch. His mom had insisted, though, so he’d learned the skill, basic though his competency was basic at best.

“Looks like everything’s in order,” Vik said, rolling over to his station. “You feel like starting a tab, or would you prefer to pay upfront?”

“How much are your rates for checkups?” Adrian asked as he stripped out of his cystaljock bomber jacket, and quickly took his shirt off as well. Vik was going to need at least those articles removed to work properly.

“Depends. You want it quick or thorough?”

“… can I do both?”

“Nah, gotta do one or the other,” Vik answered apologetically. “Quick one’ll run you five hundred, and a thorough one’ll run you about a thousand or so.”

Adrian winced at that. Rippers weren’t cheap, as their prices showed. They did good work. At least, the ones he’d been to. That got him thinking, and he quickly asked another question. “You rippers got some kind of collective insurance policy I could get in on?”

Vik just chuckled at the question, but answered it quickly. “Kid, if we did have such a thing, I think I’d be getting a lot more customers. Besides, everyone in Night City speaks so reverently about insurance for a reason. Just ask anyone with Trauma Team coverage.”

Adrian just scoffed at the mention of that health plan. Vik took notice, and raised a brow in silent question. The young man sighed, rubbing at his temples as he fought off a slight headache. He knew it was stupid to rage against people who were doing their jobs, but that didn’t change the fact that the healthcare system in Night City was royally fucked, and the public hospitals were overworked and understaffed at the best of times.

“It’s just… Trauma Coverage is one of those lauded benefits that corpos get to enjoy. It’s a nice thought, don’t get me wrong, but it… doctors are supposed to help people. Swear an oath to do no harm. I’m not stupid. We’re in Night fucking City. Basically everyone’s packing iron. And I get that they’re risking thir lives for this. But that doesn’t change the fact that they’ll ignore anyone they don’t cover. They’re basically a corpo-only service in everything but name. Of all the things I thought would be mercenary about this damn place, I never thought medicine would be one of them. Especially when I was growing up.”

He had learned, though. As lauded as Trauma Team was, able to fully bring people back from the dead within a reasonable timeframe, they were still greedy bastards to their cores. They could pretend to be heroes of the common good all they wanted. In the end, the only thing they cared about was who was paying them top dollar, and that usually meant corpos. It meant Arasaka. It meant…

Faraday, that four-eyed cunt.

Despite the time since the incident, the anger had remained. The fire had largely simmered, no longer so dominant in his thoughts. He would be quite disappointed in himself if he couldn’t even managed that much. Yet still, despite the fact that it had cooled, the anger remained. And despite it’s relative coolness now, it still burned at his thoughts when it came to mind. 

He knew almost nothing about the man, save his affiliation with the Arasaka megacorp and the fact that he had command over a small team of security in suits rather than armor. He probably wasn’t all that high up in the corp, but he probably wasn’t particularly low either. That made him… damn near impossible to find at this point. Arasaka had a lot of execs; it was one of the biggest megacorps on the planet for a very good reason. 

“Well, I suppose you’ve got your reasons,” Vik said, not judging Adrian for his unusual view on Trauma Team. “Just be aware that most people aren’t gonna see it that way.”

“I know, I know,” Adrian said with a wave of his hand. He knew that his view on Trauma Team was unusual at best and extremely controversial at worst. Most people just saw the ones that they saved, the ones that were able to bring people back from full-on death. They didn’t bother to notice the people they left dying in their wake.

Adrian didn’t think he was better than Trauma in that regard. His chosen profession involved death as a primary factor. He would be a true hypocrite if he believed otherwise. But, at the very least, he had a decency to look at the people he killed. As far as they were concerned, if you ween’t a client, you didn’t exist.

Adrian got down on Vik’s chair and shifted about, trying to get comfortable. “Suppose I’ll start with the quick one. I can afford that much, at least.”

“Smart kid,” Vik said with a smile. “Shouldn’t need to do anything too drastic, but I’ll be giving you a numbing agent so that you don’t squirm. Don’t want to cut anything too vital now, do we?”

Adrian chuckled. “No, I suppose we don’t.”

Adrian laid down with a sigh as Vik got to work, numbing parts of his back as he started doing some minor maintenance on the Dead-Eye OS. Adrian wasn’t sure how the thing worked, but M had said the note contained instructions for Vik to follow regarding how what to do for the checkup. Nothing drastic, obviously, but it was enough that the effects wouldn’t give him quite as much of a headache outside of Cold Blood. Complications like those regarding Mrk 0s were common, relatively speaking, so adjustments weren’t uncommon. They were probably a lot more invasive than what Vik was doing though, and Adrian was grateful that it wouldn’t be too uncomfortable. 

A little less than ten minutes later, Vik was done with the OS, and he quickly moved Adrian onto his back in order to better work on his arm and eye. He was midway through working on the arm when someone came in through the back.

“Hey Vik!” a low, rough, slightly accented voice called out through the din. “How you doin’ this afternoon, choomba?”

“Pretty well, all things considered,” Vik answered back, a smile crossing his lips as he adressed the newcomer. “With a client right now, though, so you’ll have to wait a bit.”

“It’s cool man, I can actually wait all day this time,” the man agreed with a smile. Adrain got a good look at him over Vik’s shoulder, his ‘ganic eye still in working order while Vik’s scanners held it for a diagnostics check. He was more than thankful for the sedatives the man had given him, or else he would likely be in indescribable agony.

The man in question was built like a damn tank, with wide shoulders and a bulky, muscular build to match. Much of his dark hair had been cut short, though the back section had been kept long enough for him to pull it into a topknot that flared out at it’s end. He wore a modified, black cystaljock bomber jacket, with neon collar replaced with a regular one that had red on the inside, along with a low cut maroon tanktop with some kind of logo he couldn’t quite make out. He also had dark pants matched with rough looking sneakers, a gunbelt slung around his hips with a sawed-off double barrel shotgun holstered near his right thigh. the guy even had a machete slung over one shoulder, the hand-guard built into the curved handle, which would alow for easier leverage when cutting. It was a good weapon for someone built like he was.

There was evidence of cyberware in his face and what he could see of the man’s arms, the almost stylized metallic lines a dead giveaway to anyone who looked. He was young, but hard looking, with a square jaw and a strong chin and nose. His gentle smile, however gave Adrian the immediate impression of a gentle giant type. And ‘giant’ wasn’t an inaccurate descriptor; the man was at least six feet tall, and probably taller than Adrian himself by at least four inches. 

“Hey there, little man,” he said, his low voice kind in it’s tone. “How’re you doin’?”

“Alright, I guess,” Adrian replied as Vik twisted his arm around to work on the elbow joint. “I’m pretty sure that most people qualify as ‘little’ to you, though.”

“I can’t help it if I’m tall, man,” the man said with a chuckle. “Anyway, I’m Jackie Welles. Nice to meet you, I suppose.”

“Adrian,” he answered back. He’d briefly debated giving the guy his full name, but figured that information might be prudent to keep close to the chest. The only reason that Rebecca knew about it was because he hadn’t changed his Holo ID yet. Although given the fact that Regina had yet to mention anything about it, it might be less important than he thought it was. “I’d shake your hand, but one of ‘em is getting worked on and I ain’t a leftie.”

“I get that, little man,” Jackie said with a chuckle, sitting down in one of Vik’s chairs with only a single grunt of protest from the bust ripper. It wasn’t like he could do anything else without potentially fucking something up. “Still, Vik’s one o’ the best, so I put up with it when I’m under the knife.”

“Damn straight I am,” Vik responded with a chuckle. “Now if you want me to stay that way, let me work.”

A few more minutes passed, and after Vik made sure everything was working properly, and put Adrian’s eye back in it’s socket, the young merc rose from the operating chair with a stretch, letting his bones pop pleasantly after all the time sitting still.

“I’ll leave you to whatever you were needed to talk about,” Adrian said, quickly dressing himself again as he gave Jackie a friendly smile. “See you around?”

“Hey, you never know,” the man replied with a smirk. 

Adrian left the room as the conversation between him and Vik got started in earnest. He didn’t know what it was about, but that was probably for the best. He wouldn’t be liable to tell anyone what it might be about. 

As he started exiting the stairway leading down to Vik’s clinic, he got a call on his holo. Unlike before, it wasn’t from Rebecca. Instead, the ID was a star made out of a circuit-board with CPU in it’s center. Regina Jones.

With a slight huff of disappointment that he wouldn’t be talking to his fellow merc anytime soon, he picked up the call. “Hello?”

“Hey there kid. You free tomorrow? Got a gig for you. Do well enough, there’s a chance you could get a bit more than just some spar edds out of it. Sound good?”

“Sounds fucking fantastic. When and where? I’ll be in my Sunday best.”

Adrian Walker’s Status:

LEVEL: 6

SREET CRED: 4

€$: 4355 → 535

Stats and Skills:

BODY: 4

Athletics: Lvl 2

Annihilation: Lvl 1

Street Brawler: Lvl 3

REFLEX: 7

Assault: Lvl 2

Handguns: Lvl 4

Blades: Lvl 1

TECH: 6

Crafting: Lvl 3

Engineering: Lvl 1

INTELLIGENCE: 3

Breach Protocol: Lvl 1

Quickhacking: Lvl 1

COOL: 6

Ninjitsu: Lvl 3

Cold Blood: Lvl 4

Notable Cyberware:

FRONTAL CORTEX: None | None | None 

OCCULAR SYSTEM: Dead-Eye Optic

CIRCULATORY SYSTEM: None | None | None

IMMUNE SYSTEM: None | None

NERVOUS SYSTEM: None | None

INTEGUMENTARY SYSTEM: None | None | None

OPERATING SYSTEM: Dead-Eye Combat Analysis Regulation & Assistance Device [Mrk 0]

SKELETON: None | None

HANDS: None

ARMS: Military Grade Arasaka Cyberarm

LEGS: None

Chapter Text

June 14th, 2075

Night City, CA.

9:49 pm, PST.

6 months and 1 week before a certain car accident.

“Okay… going over it all one more time…” Adrian drew out, a heavy sigh on his lips as he tried fight the building headache behind his eyes. “A guy from Watson happened to come across a drug deal down in Heywood and thought to themselves ‘hey, maybe I can get in on that,’ killed three people and walked away with the shipment?”

“That’s how this started, yes.”

Regina was filling Adrian in on the details of his job while he stood outside the location he was soon to be assaulting. It was a place near the middle of Heywood, and was about three stories tall with all the telltale marks of the district: concrete and redbrick facades overtop square architectural tendencies, with various Catholic and Dia de los Muertos style graffiti and art on the sides of many of the buildings. They were good pieces, and the styles often mixed together to make something that was distinctly ‘Heywood’ about the place. 

“And when he got back to his den and tried to get his buddies to distribute it with him, someone saw an opportunity and called in some of the Valentinos to kill the guys and split the profits?”

“You’re on the right track.” Regina said. “It’d be more accurate to call this guy a dumbass rather than a spy. The Valentinos are a bit too prideful to go full spy on another NC gang. Though I’m pretty sure Padre has some ears in the districts somewhere.”

Adrian nodded in agreement with that. He wasn’t personally familiar with the man, but he was the primary fixer for Heywood, and someone who still had a somewhat close relationship with the Valentinos despite their parting of the ways. Something about a massacre that he still didn’t know the full details of. 

“One of the guys survived, and pooled everyone’s cash together to pay for the job?”

“Yeah, and that leads us here. He doesn’t really care what happens to the Valentinos. Spare ‘em or flatline ‘em, doesn’t matter. He just wants this rat bastard dead at his feet.”

A photo came through the call, then of a caucasian man with significantly distorted features and a nose that had been broken far too many times. It seemed that this man may have been in one to many fistfights, and lost a lot more than he’d won. His head was shaved to the point that, if it weren’t for the hints of stubble, Adrian would’ve assumed he was just bald. His eyes had been totally replaced by some of those odd goggle looking implants with the red line running through it that made him think of that old comic book character from Marvel. Cyclops? Yeah, Cyclops. At the very least, it wouldn’t be easy to mistake him for anyone in the Valentinos. The only kind of people who used those kinds of implants were either Maelstrom or people with very specific eye conditions. 

“This guy have a name?” Adrian asked.

“Not much in the official records, but word around the street is that he calls himself Reggie. Not sure why, but I guess he thought a regular name would sound more intimidating for some reason.”

Adrian almost scoffed at that. He hadn’t been part of the merc world for long, so he had little personal experience with side of mercenary and Solo culture, but he did have a treasure trove of that kind of knowledge in M. When he’d asked his mentor about the subject of nicknames, the grizzled man had said that the ones who chose their own nicknames rarely lasted very long, attitudes trending towards more pomp than sense. It took someone with a true force of sheer charisma like Johnny goddamn Silverhand for a nickname you chose yourself to stick with any kind of consistency.

“Well, I’ll try to minimize the damage this time. Can’t promise it’ll be clean, but I won’t kill anyone on purpose.”

“Could’ve fooled me. That abandoned motel looked like a Jackson Pollock painting by the time you were done with it.”

“Who?”

“Painter from last century. Probably never heard of him. Point is, even though the job got done, you did it pretty brutally.”

“Well, I wasn’t gonna spare the bastards. They were Scavs.”

“Not saying you should’ve. Just be aware that everyone’s paying attention to how you handle regular operations. If you do end up killing people, at least do it cleanly this time? No one wants to hire a braindead maniac unless they have to.”

“So, sliding scale of brutality between Lukewarm and Freezing then?” Adrian asked. Regina was already aware of this scale after Adrian had explained it to her the previous day, which she’d been a little confused by, though she had quickly adopted it for it’s relatively straightforward nature.

“That’d be ideal. Other than killing Reggie, there’ll be a significant bonus if you can recover the drugs that were stolen back and forth as well.”

“How significant is ‘significant’?”

“Enough to basically add about forty percent of what I was already going to pay you for the job, so it wouldn’t be a bad idea for you to go out of your way to recover it. Hope to see you on the other side of this, kid.”

“I’ve got a name, y’know.”

“That you do. Come out of this without killing anyone but Reggie, and I just might start using it.”

The call ended, and Adrian chuckled at Regina’s parting words. That last bit had been a challenge to him, to see if he really could do a job without killing anyone. That kind of mercenary was a rare breed, one that hadn’t been seen since the twenty twenties. Even then, they had been an elusive, almost mythic force in Night City. Still, as the Solo profession got more popular, many of the myths were exposed for what they were. Myths. All except the few who managed to retain some of that air of mystery and awe about them.

Adrian had yet to hear any stories of that like from anyone but M, and he was fairly quiet about his experiences from those days. Hell, the only reason Adrian was pretty sure he knew the man’s real name was because of one his mom’s stories from when he’d been little, though time had worn away at the finer details of that memory. 

Not the time. Focus. You have a job to do, so do it well and do it right.

Adrian shook his head, making sure that everything was in working order. His Achilles was slung across his back, ready to be brought to bear at a moment’s notice, while his Liberty was at his side ad the Malorian was at his back. Adrian had been thinking on the subject of names for a while now, and had come to a conclusion regarding them. If he was going to name his guns, he would have to customize them somehow. It was the most comfortable compromise he could think of between M’s stance on the subject and his own interest in it. 

But that was for another time. Right now, he needed to get the job done.

He walked up to the building with a calm, measured gait, making sure that the people at the front noticed him. Adrian wasn’t really one for negotiations, but he would prefer to get this all done with as little bloodshed as possible. So, obviously, diplomacy was the first method he would be trying. It wasn’t likely to work, especially if he brought up the drugs, but he might as well make the attempt. Even if the pride of the average Valentino made it likely that this was going to result in violence, in the end.

Two the guys towards the front noticed him, trading brief snippets of words in Spanish that Adrian couldn’t quite make out. The two quickly sidled up to him, hands near where their iron had been holstered. One of them had a fairly standard gold-plated pistol, which was unusually commonplace among the Valentinos, while the other had a submachine gun at hand. 

“The fuck are you doing here?” the one with the pistol said. 

“I’m here to talk,” Adrian responded in perfect Spanish. That was clearly something of a wake-up call for them, and the young merc capitalized. “I’ve got a gig to kill someone in your custody, and I’d prefer to get it done with as few bodies dropping as possible. Can I speak to your boss?”

“And why the fuck would we let you? Just because you can speak Spanish, you fucking gringo?” the one with the pistol responded again. He was clearly itching for a fight, or for something to happen. Either that or he really didn’t like the idea of negotiation.

“C’mon, man. That’s just rude,” Adrian commented. “I’m not looking to threaten anyone. I just want to have a civil conversation with your boss.”

“The only kind of ‘civil conversation’ you’re gonna get is-”

“Manuel!” the other man interjected, putting a hand on his shoulder. Then he whispered something in his ear that Adrian couldn’t quite hear, though as he went on, the other man’s eyes gradually grew wider. Not much, but enough that Adrian thought he knew what they were talking about. 

“… we’ll let him know. You’re on your own for convincing him,” the pistol man said, turning around and entering the building behind him while the other man with the submachine gun just stood guard and looked… decidedly nervous.

I’m not sure how far that hotel story has spread, but I really hope it doesn’t fuck this meeting up.

After a few minutes of idle waiting, the pistol man came back out, silently gesturing for Adrian to follow him. He did so, aware for the not unlikely case that these guys might just gang up on him in order to kill him outright. He started taking notes of any exits he could see as he walked through the space, which turned out to be a decommissioned auto shop. The Valentinos really liked their wheels, so Adrian wasn’t surprised at this. 

Much of the equipment looked almost halfway into disrepair, though some of them still looked at least semi-functional. Adrian tried not to pay attention to it, instead noting the doors that lead into offices and supply closest, and various other areas that he had no names for. He counted at least eight Valentinos on the bottom floor alone, and he had to presume that there would be at least a few more upstairs with the boss, and that Reggie was probably being guarded in the basement. Otherwise there would be little point in posting a guard outside one of the doors with a goddamn tech shotgun. Those things were nasty to deal with.

They quickly came upstairs and turned right into what would’ve been the main office of the place. The door opened to more or less what he’d expected to see: a few guys lounging around the office, with an old school pinball machine in one corner and some scattered furnishings here and there. The coffee table and a pair of couches took up the center of the room, where three of the Valentinos immediately came to some kind of tension, reaching for their iron but not drawing it. Like hands on the hilts of swords, ready to be drawn bare at a moment’s notice.

Great. Looks like they’re intimidated because of a situation I barely survived.

Of course, Adrian wasn’t about to tell them that. Instead, he kept his face as neutral as possible as he walked over to the chair at the far end of the room near the desk. On the other end of the desk was a well-built man in his late thirties, his widow’s peak made prominent by his short black hair, contrasting well against his coppery skin and hazel eyes, a well-groomed goatee highlighting his softer facial features. Hints of tattoos peeked through his shirt, with full sleeves highlighting what Adrian could see of his arms. it surprised him to see someone with so little chrome who wasn’t a Nomad, but cities were made of all kinds, even Night City.

“So… my men tell me you are the one who took out a Scav hideout all by your lonesome,” the man said in Spanish. He gestured for Adrian to sit, which he did. “Is this true?”

“That depends entirely on what they’ve heard,” Adrian replied.

“What they’ve heard… is that a young man with a red cyberarm and a crosshair eye went into that place with nothing but a pistol and killed six Scavs all by his lonesome with a single magazine of ammo. Then he went and managed to kill a cyberpsycho in the same day, barely breaking a sweat. Anything egregiously wrong with that story?”

“Nothing of note,” Adrian admitted. All stories got exaggerated to some degree or another, but this one had stuck pretty close to what had actually happened. He just hoped it didn’t change too much from here. If things were blown too wildly out of proportion, any prospective fixers might expect him to do the impossible. 

“Well, it seems that there was enough truth to the story to get you in the door,” the man said with a smile. “And I have something of an eye for prospective talent and potential. My name is Gustavo Cortez. Might I ask yours?”

“Adrian,” he answered. Gustavo rose a brow at his continued silence, as though he were expecting more than that, but Adrian made no move to offer a last name. Gustavo sighed, leaning back in his chair as he waved it off.

“Tell me then, Adrian. You could have begun an assault on this place a while ago. So why come here? Why try to negotiate?”

“For one thing, I don’t want people to believe I’m unreasonable,” Adrian began. “For another, I would generally prefer to fight as little as possible, especially if diplomacy is an option.”

“It seems you did not open such channels with the Scavs,” Gustavo pointed out, taking a cigar out of one of the desk drawers and lighting it. He took a long draw of the thing, it’s end glowing as he sucked in a deep breath. “I wonder why that is. Some personal vendetta, perhaps?”

“Believe it or not? No. I just happen to hate people like that.”

“Like what, Mr. Adrian?”

Adrian ignored the question, letting the silence sit between them for several seconds before he blatantly changed the subject. “You have a man in your custody. One self-proclaimed Reggie. A rat who sold out his crew to get into the good graces of the Valentinos. My client wants him dead.”

Gustavo raised a brow at this, chuckling to himself as he took another drag from his cigar. “And you thought to come in here and demand his head?”

“Yes.”

This time, the whole room laughed. Adrian knew they would. Most people wouldn’t take these demands seriously from most mercenaries, much less someone who wasn’t even nineteen yet. But he figured it would be a good policy to at least make the attempt. To show that he was open to communication. 

Eventually, Gustavo stopped, his chuckles fading out while he tried to get his next words out. “You… you honestly… expect us to give him up?”

“Will you? Because that is the route I would prefer in all of this.”

Gustavo shook his head, a smile on his lips as he gestured to the rest of the room. “Boy, we are Valentinos. We keep out word. So, even if this man sold out his people, he paid for protection, and we gave our word. And so we will protect him. Because the Valentinos do not break their word.”

Most wouldn’t. Adrian would agree with him on that. There were always exceptions to the rules. Always the ones that people wouldn’t expect. The outliers. Gustavo Cortez was not an outlier. He was a Valentino through and through. And loyal to their code, both in the best and worst ways possible. On the one hand, it might make him inflexible in negotiations. On the other, it might make him predictable. 

“Okay then.”

Adrian made to get out of his chair, only to hear someone aim iron at his head inches away. It seemed that his men thought he was as defenseless as his age suggested. Adrian quickly grabbed the man’s iron, wrenched it out of his hand and pulled him into an armlock in a single motion, using the man as a human shield while the rest took aim.

“Hey hey hey!” Gustavo yelled out raising his hands to his men, gesturing for them to put their arms down. “No blood has been spilled today. Let’s keep it that way, yes?”

Several tense seconds passed before the man complied, holstering their guns and taking their seats once more with tension clear in their bodies. Adrian shoved the eager Valentino away from him, the man rubbing at the hand Adrian had put into a lock. He glared daggers at the young man while Adrian just stared back, completely unphased. 

“Let it be known that I at least tried diplomacy,” Adrian said, turning back to Gustavo. “I’m not a fool. I know that letting me walk out of here makes no sense.”

“And yet, you count on my honor to let you walk away unscathed?”

Adrian gave a sweep of his hands. “I have done you no true harm. All I ask is that you do me none in turn until or unless you have good reason.”

Gustavo looked at him for several seconds, as though considering. Adrian already knew what he was planning to do. He wasn’t going to end today without some edds in his pocket. Once he got out, he was going to have to find another way back in. He just hoped that Gustavo was as much of a Valentino as he appeared to be.

With a smile on his face that didn’t quite reach his eyes, the Valentino gestured for Adrian to leave the office. The young merc took the offered exit with a calm gait, heading down the stairs and quickly getting out of that auto shop altogether. He would be back. He knew it, and on some level Gustavo knew it too. Honorable didn’t mean stupid. Luckily for Adrian, even if he would be trying his best not to kill anyone that day… he was far from honorable.

Adrian took the Achilles off his shoulder as he finished attaching the Pax mod to the gun. It was a somewhat rough job, and one that any Techie would scoff at, but it was what he had in the moment. 

A few hours had passed since Gustavo had let him walk out, and he’d since then doubled his guard, at least at the entrances. The actual number of people in there hadn’t increased in the slightest, just their show of force. It was as he’d expected. It would probably be like this for the rest of the day. And, as much as he would love to come back tomorrow, Regina had wanted this to get done, and he wasn’t totally comfortable with only having five hundred eddies in his pocket. 

Plus, he really wanted that bonus she was offering. 

Adrian’s Achilles rifle wasn’t automatic, but it was the weapon of choice for MaxTac for a very good reason. The primary reason being the method of charging shots. They even had two firing modes, though MaxTac tended to use the lethal variety almost exclusively. Given their tendencies towards violence and the fact that they were most often called in to deal with cyberpsychos, he supposed he couldn’t really blame them on that front. Though they were so heavily chromed out that most people on MaxTac were basically cybrepsychos in all but name.

That didn’t change Adrian’s current predicament: how he was going to take out at least a few of these guys quietly so that he could even out the odds. There was always the back entrance, but that had increased security as well, if not as intensive as the front. Still, given the fact that there were three guards there instead of two, Adrian probably wouldn’t have been able to take all of them out without making noise or killing at least one of them, even with the Pax mod. 

Said mod didn’t directly provide a decrease in lethality, but it did allow for even regular bullets to deal crippling, if nonlethal, wounds, as long as no particularly vital spots were hit. He only had the one mod, though, so if he used his Liberty or the Malorian at his back, it was fairly likely that he would kill whoever he shot at with those. He just had to hope he was good enough with the precision rifle that his pistols weren’t necessary. 

Still, the backdoor was probably out of the question. The name of the game would be stealth until he’d reduced their numbers by at least a quarter. Thankfully, there were skylights all along the roof of the autoshop. It seemed that whoever had designed the place had been something of a fan of natural lighting. 

Adrian leapt onto one of the fire escapes via the adjacent building he’d been hiding atop, making sure that there was no one beneath him when he jumped. His boots met the metal of the fire escape with a slight sound of echoing metal, and although it wasn’t any louder than the normal noises one would hear from them on occasion, Adrian still made sure to press himself flat against the wall, Achilles at the ready just in case.

Several seconds passed, and none of the Valentinos sprang into action or gave cause for alarm. Slowly, Adrian advanced up the fire escape, checking each corner of his assent as he quietly made his way up. It was a good thing that he took such caution, because he saw a rooftop guard scanning over the rest of the guards just beside an air conditioning unit. It seemed that he was going to have to clear the roof as well. Unsurprising, really. 

Adrian silently approached the man from behind, slinging his Achilles onto his back before,when he was a step behind the man, he put the man into a headlock with his cybernetic right hand, chocking him out in little more than a few seconds. Checking for the man’s pulse, and finding one, Adrian immediately dragged him behind the AC unit in order to hide him in plain sight. Given the fact that there appeared to only be one guard up here, they probably wouldn’t be coming to check on him for a while yet. It wasn’t like there was any place he could stuff the unconscious man in the meantime, so this would have to do. 

The young merc immediately started checking the skylights for openings and locks to break, finding one at the third one he searched. It led down to a catwalk above the shop itself, which he slunk down to with an easy grace and almost complete silence. He scanned the walkway, creeping forward with slow, deliberate steps as he gazed out at the floors below him. As he’d suspected, there were a lot less people inside the space than there had been before, although that one guy with the heavy gun was still guarding the basement door. Adrian would have to take him out first, and quietly, if for no other reaon than the fact that his weapon would cause him problems in more ways than one. 

More Valentinos were hanging around the gutted husks of cars and abandoned equipment, all of them armed, though it seemed that a few of them were starting to relax. Adrian wasn’t completely surprised by this, since it had been a few hours, but it did seem a little soon to be taking your hands away from your weapon, even if you hadn’t seen danger in a long while. The scattering of equipment, benches, storage and abandoned car frames gradually laid out a plan in Adrian’s mind, and he quickly got to work. 

First, he started to get rid of the uppermost guards, silently taking one of them to the ground with a descending leap and smashing his face into the concrete floor, using his body as a means of muffling his impact and the opaque railing as a means of cover. Quickly, he dragged the man’s unconscious body to a nearby storage bin and dumped it in, making sure to close the lid gently lest it make too much noise.

The lookout on the other end of the second floor of the main space started moving, Adrian listening to their footsteps as he waited to perform his next move. His footsteps were slow and heavy, an indication of complacency. Perhaps even boredom. His lack of awareness cost him as Adrian put him too in a chokehold, taking him over to the same bin he’d stuffed the other Valentino into, slamming his head against it’s edge about as gently as he could while still knocking him out. It was a tight fit, but he managed it, and no one on the lowest floor or outside was any the wiser for his actions. 

I should be able to take out that guy by the basement door without too much trouble. I just hope that no one else notices.

Adrian leaned over the side of the outcropping he was on, looking down at the man below him. He was an entire story below, so taking him out quietly was going to b e a challenge, but if he could get a literal drop on the guy, it should be relatively simple. So, without letting himself take any longer, Adrian jumped from his spot, the big man below not seeing him until his booted feet connected with his shoulder. The fell to the ground with a muffled crash of limbs and cyberware, Adrian taking the man’s face with his cyberarm and slamming the back of his head into the ground, knocking him out and likely giving him a concussion. 

He paid the man no mind, though, taking cover near a car frame as one of the Valentinos came over to check out the noise. Though Adrian had been quiet, it seemed that he hadn’t been quite quiet enough. Breathing in a silent, steadying breath, he aimed his Achilles at the approaching guard, finger on the trigger as he prepared a nonlethal charged shot. Once their center mass came into view, he fired.

It hit the man fully in the chest, causing him to spasm and cry out in pain as he toppled to the ground, the force of the shot and the electricity imparted into it knocking him out shortly afterwards. However, his cry was more than loud enough to alert the Valentinos that someone was in their warehouse, or at the very least that something was wrong.

Adrian was counting on that. Since the source of the noise had yet to be proven, it was unlikely that anyone would be rushing through the door to see who it was, even if they were concerned. One or two from each entrance, most likely, and after that, the rest would start piling in.

Adrian aimed for the most obvious entrance: the front gate, where two Valentinos were already approaching. There was also a man coming out of what would have been the main office of the shop and another coming from the back entrance. As he’d expected.

Adrian launched one charged shot into one of the man coming in through the entrance, which promptly knocked him out and flat on his ass. THe other guy looked to the man with shock, which Adrian promptly capitalized on, sending another shot into the other guy’s chest.

When the Valentino from the back entrance started firing at him, the young merc rolled out of te way, bullets pinging off of the metallic frame he’d been hiding behind. He returned fire, popping off two shots from his Achilles into the man’s right leg and left shoulder, causing him to fall to the ground, He sprinted towards him even as more of the Valentinos started piling in, firing on his position with a merciless show of firepower, sliding across the ground on his knees for the last stretch and clothes-lining the man with his right arm as he tried to pull his head up. 

When the second man from the back tried to enter, Adrian promptly took the man by the face and slammed his head into the side of the wall, careful to only rattle him and knock him out, not causing any permanent damage. It was difficult, especially since strength variability worked different in his cybernetic arm than his real one, but he’d gotten a lot of practice with it over the last few weeks. M actually still had him working on it consistently. 

Adrian quickly took cover behind one of the nearby pieces of broken equipment next to a disused tool shelf, bullets echoing out with the hollow sound of metal and breaking shrapnel. He breathed, his ears perked for a decrease in gunfire, hoping to find a weakness in their firing line.

Several seconds passed as he waited, bullets continuing to fly as no lull was heard. Fuck. Adrian was going to have to disrupt them somehow. The most effective way would be with grenades, but Adrian didn’t have any on him, or at least none that wouldn’t also kill anyone in the blast radius. The most effective one would likely be either a flashbang or an EMP grenade, preferably the latter given the near universal fact that most people in Night City had some form of cyberware once they’d stopped maturing.

Adrian scanned the top of the tool shelf, hoping to find something there that would turn the odds. They had seemed careless in the brief moments before he’d come in a few hours ago, but they may well have changed things up in the time he’d been preparing. Luckily, he didn’t just find one solution. He found two. One flashbang, and one EMP. And suddenly, Adrian had an idea.

“Flank the fucker!” one of the Valentinos called out. “Don’t let him get a chance to do anything!”

He heard their footsteps approaching, his left arm cocked back while his right index finger looped through the pins on both grenades. His plan would work. It had to, or else these guys would get the drop on him and he’d be shot to death. It would’ve been much simpler if he could just kill them all, but that wasn’t what he was trying to do today.

Once the group was less than ten steps away, Adrian pulled the pins and tossed both grenades into the air, immediately pulling his Liberty from it’s holster and leaping back from the blast radius as he fired. Bullet met explosives, and Adrian barely managed to get his hand over his face before a flash of blinding light echoed out through the space. 

Every other combatant was stunned, locking up, or twitching violently around on the ground. None of them were dead. And Adrian got to work on the rest. He pulled his Achilles off of his back and started taking out everyone else who was still standing, the icy feeling of Cold Blood running through him as he started to pick them off one by one, charged shots taking people to the ground.

In seconds, it was over. All the Valentinos he’d seen in the lower section of the auto shop were all either unconscious or disabled. He supposed that was a kind of victory he would need to get used to. He couldn’t just go about killing everyone he didn’t like. The only people, in his mind, that were kill on sight were Maelstrom, Scavs, human traffickers, and anyone in the Arasaka Security Forces. It was a wide net, but still much more narrow than most. A lot of mercs had a ‘kill anyone in their way’ policy, which he supposed he couldn’t blame them for. 

And that wasn’t to say he wouldn’t kill if he needed to. If he had to chose between most gangers and himself, Adrian would most certainly choose himself. Basically everyone else in Night City would.

Adrian looked to the other portion of the upstairs, where some of the people in Gustavo’s office had finally gotten the spine to come and check things out for themselves. With Cold Blood still running through him, Adrian rushed at the staircase, firing off a couple of charged shots in order to clog up the entrance. Two bodies fell, both twitching with electricity as they fell down. He had to employ some awkward movements in order to avoid them, barely dodging a pair of bullets that were fired at him from the two remaining men. 

He shot his Achilles into one of their chests, the bullets sending him toppling down to the ground with a loud crash. He turned to the other, who’d swapped out his iron for a short blade, looking to stab Adrian in his side. He dodged the wild thrust, and the swipe that followed it, letting the man go wide on his third attack as he kicked out. The knife was launched from his hands, clattering onto the floor above them as Adrian fired a final charged shot from his rifle into the man’s chest, causing him to seize and spasm like the others who had met the end of this rifle.

He was out of ammo, now, reloading with an efficient grace as he moved on to the top floor. Adrain picked up the knife that had been kicked from that man’s hand seconds before, slinging his rifle onto his back. If Gustavo was looking to try and fight him, he might not be able to charge a shot fast enough to put him down nonlethally. 

Still, using the knife was just as risky. Knifes didn’t have easy means of nonlethal use. They existed, to be sure, but they were often painful. 

Adrian approached the door to Gustavo’s office, knife held in a reverse grip as he prepared to enter. He wasn’t entirely sure he would simply be waiting at his desk with a gun or waiting behind the door with some melee implement like a club or a knife of his own.

Surprisingly enough, it was the former. But unlike Adrian’s predictions, he did not have a gun. Instead, he just sat there. Looking at him. As though he were waiting for him. Adrian doubted that the man was looking to fight, given his surprisingly relaxed posture, but that wasn’t to say he was incapable of violence.

“Would you prefer to speak in English, or Spanish?” the man asked, his posture not changing for so much as a moment. His hands were steepled in front of him, as though contemplating something. Adrian couldn’t see any weapons near him, but that wasn’t to say the man was unarmed.

“Whatever you want, Gustavo,” Adrian said, switching back to his native language.

Gustavo sighed, bringing one of his hands up to his face stroke at his dark, impeccable goatee. “Very well. English then. In acknowledgement of your victory here today.”

“No victories. Just business,” Adrian clarified. 

“None of my men are dead?” he asked, seemingly surprised.

“As I said. No victories.”

Gustavo gave a humorless chuckle to that. “It seems that, even with forewarning, we underestimated you. I underestimated you. For that, you have my apologies. If I had known you were capable of this when we met…

“I don’t think I would have let you leave this room alive.”

Adrian raised a brow at that. “Didn’t proclaim yourself to be a man of honor?”

“And I am. But honor and foolishness are only correlated, not intertwined. I am not fool enough to spare a threat when I can see it for what it is. Nor buck at an opportunity when it stands in front of me. You have spared my men, and for that, you have my gratitude. It could not have been easy, given the… lethality of the tools involved.”

“It wasn’t. But what’s to stop you from taking revenge of some kind? That is one of the most common goals in Night City. Especially in the gangs.”

“It is. But as I see it, at the end of the day, no one has died. Therefore, there is nothing to avenge but pride in the guise of honor. I might be an honorable man, but I am not a prideful one.”

“You say that, but I may be the one to besmirch it nonetheless. I’m going to kill Reggie. You probably have the access code to get to him on you.”

“How did you figure that?” Gustavo asked with a raised brow.

“There’s no way in hell you’d have him here without some kind of security in place. After all, he betrayed his own crew. Who knows what he would do to you and yours?”

Gustavo’s confused look turned into a wry smirk. “You are not wrong there. But there comes the matter of reputation. If he dies under my watch while I am up here, unscathed, then I look dishonorable, even if I am otherwise. So, to save face…”

“I’m not torturing you,” Adrian said, his hand making a cutting motion along with his words. “That’s a step too far even for me.”

“Not torture. Damage,” Gustavo clarified. “That is all I need. Plausible deniability and all of that. There needs to be some kind of struggle, else the story will not be believable. So… does this sound amenable to you?”

Adrian had to think for a few seconds. Brutal though the suggestion was, it was a smart one. And the fact that he was offering at least gave the idea some kind of credibility. Still, Adrian wasn’t completely sure how this was going to go. 

“I’m still killing Reggie.”

“Of that I have no doubt,” he said with a knowing smile. “I also know that it’s likely that you were asked to take the drugs he stole as well.”

Adrian’s hackles started to rise, but stopped when he saw the apologetic look on his face. “Peace, good man, peace. I know that you are skeptical of such an offer. I would be too. But it would make the story all the more plausible. And despite the many stores from various people over the last month or so, that shipment has been bounced back and forth so many times that I’m not even sure who it first belonged to anymore. I swear, you’re doing me a favor. It almost seems cursed somehow.”

“… fine. Where’s the shipment?” 

“Still in Reggie’s car,” Gustavo replied, digging around in one of his pockets and tossing Adrian a set of car keys. “An Archer Hella EC-D i360. Should be in the parking lot. Can’t miss it. As rotten of a man as Reggie is, he has good taste in vehicles.”

Adrian caught the keys in his outstretched hand, quickly hiding them away and breathing. “So… now what?”

“Now, my friend… we do as men of honor do. Keep our word.”

Several minutes later, Gustavo was a wreck on the floor, coughing up blood as he struggled for breath. Adrian hadn’t wanted to go this far, but he had insisted. Said it needed to look good for their story to be believable. The office was a wreck. The desk had been split in half. Furniture had either been pushed aside or tossed about in their attempt to make it look like a struggle. Some of the cushions had massive gashes in them, stuffing as scattered as the very real blood on the floor. 

Gustavo’s face was black and blue. It was a miracle he hadn’t passed out yet. His knuckles were red and bruised, to make it seem as though he’d fought. At least a few of his ribs were cracked, and at least one or two of them were broken. His whole body would probably start swelling up at this rate. 

“Okay…” he said, waling towards the far wall, he stumbled and slumped up against it, the actual pain helping with the artificial path of destruction. He put his hand up against the wall, palm-up, gritting his teeth in anticipation. “… now for… the… really painful part.”

Adrian didn’t bother asking him whether he was sure or not. The man would just answer in the affirmative, as he had the other five times that the young merc had asked. So, with a quick, clean motion, he plunged the knife clean through Gustavo’s hand, pinning him to the wall as he tried to hold back a yell of pain. He succeeded… in only letting out a long, clearly suffering groan. 

“It’s likely that you’ll regret this, you know.”

“Perhaps. Or, perhaps… you will… become such a legend… in the future… that having contact with you… will be invaluable,” Gustavo said with a bloody smile. “Or perhaps… I am being an optimist. We shall… see either way.”

As Adrian turned to leave, Gustavo called out for him once again. “Is there a name… I should give?”

“Don’t think I’m quite notorious enough for that. Not yet, anyway.”

“Maybe. But… might be prudent… to start now. So? Any… requests?”

…

“… call me whatever you want,” Adrian said. “Just don’t make it boring.”

“Oh… I have… just the name in mind…” Gustavo said, his non swollen eye trailing over the young merc’s cybernetic right hand. “Adrian… Redhand.”

He almost groaned at that. “C’mon, man. Ain’t that a little on the nose?”

“Maybe. But you’ve gotta admit… catchy. Rolls… off the tongue real good.”

Adrian wasn’t totally comfortable taking the name, for a number of reasons. Many relating to the fact that he wasn’t confident enough in himself to claim a name like that. Not yet. And M… well, he’d definitely be amused, that was for damn sure. 

“Thinking I’ll make the ‘hands’ a trinity? Think that’s for the city to decide, not us. Not me. It’s the arbiter of how we’re perceived by everyone else.”

“True enough. But like I said… got a good feeling. So write your story. Make it a legend… if you wish. Just… don’t make it a boring one… Redhand.”

As Adrian walked out of the room, his boots echoing against the stairs as he made his way down towards his target. And he admitted something to himself, as he put the rat in his sights.

“Who’re-”

BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!

‘Redhand’ was a good name. A part of him; a small, vain part, hoped that it caught on. But that was for later. For now, he had a job to do.

“Damn, Adrian. Gotta admit, I’m impressed.”

“Hey! You used my name!”

“Gave my word, didn’t I? You got the job done without killing anyone but your target. I’d say that counts for out little wager, don’t you?”

It was a couple of hours after Adrian’s work at the auto shop had completed. Reggie was dead, the drugs were recovered, and not a single member of the Valentinos had been killed. it was a good day. And good days were almost always punctuated by the one true force of the universe: eddies.

“The guy I got the drugs from said that they’d been bounced around a lot. You have any idea what the hell he was talking about?”

“Hm? Oh, right, that. Apparently that one shipment’s been tossed around so many times between so many lower levels of the gangs that no one really knows who it belongs to anymore. Anyway, I’m either selling those drugs proto or straight up burning them. Either way, it won’t be out problem anymore.”

“Thank fuck. I really don’t want to go after them again. Not after all the bullshit I had to put up with today,” Adrian said as he leaned back in the driver’s seat of his Archer. He didn’t have a proper driving licence. In fact, he was fairly certain that at least half of Night City’s population didn’t unless their job specifically required it. Luckily, cops weren’t too thorough when it came to them, and his mom had taught him how to drive safe a long time ago. Even taught him a few tricks that might prove pretty damn valuable in the coming days. “I’m keeping the car, by the way.”

“By all means, Adrian, keep the car of the guy you just shot. Not my business what you’re into.”

“It’s not a fetish! It’s just practical. I don’t exactly have the edds to spend on a car, and this one’s actually in pretty good condition.”

“Hey, even if it was, I don’t judge. Kinda can’t afford to. People in this city are into some weird shit.”

“Can’t exactly disagree with you there.”

“Anyway, you did good work today. I’ll call you if I’ve got anything else that needs doing. See you around… Redhand.”

Adrian groaned in frustration. “Really? I mean… seriously? It hasn’t even been three hours!”

“Word travels fast, kid. Especially with names like that. Let’s see if it sticks, shall we?”

The call cut out, and Adrian received the transfer of almost ten thousand edds. As Regina had promised, the forty percent bonus was substantial. Enough to keep his and Maya’s heads above water for a while. Maybe even enough for him to put some aside for modding his guns. 

There were other concerns, too. Maya hadn’t been to school in almost a month, and that was almost unheard of in Night City. He was lucky that they hadn’t expelled her outright. He might have to talk to her about it, and talk about it soon.

But, as Adrian took the wheel, his hands reflexively opening and closing around the steering wheel, he let all of that slip away. Right now, he just wanted to get home. He was tired. He was really tired.

Adrian Walker’s Status:

LEVEL: 6 → 7

SREET CRED: 4 → 6

€$: 535 → 9742

Stats and Skills:

BODY: 4

Athletics: Lvl 2

Annihilation: Lvl 1

Street Brawler: Lvl 3

REFLEX: 7

Assault: Lvl 2 → 3

Handguns: Lvl 4

Blades: Lvl 1

TECH: 6

Crafting: Lvl 3

Engineering: Lvl 1 → 2

INTELLIGENCE: 3

Breach Protocol: Lvl 1

Quickhacking: Lvl 1

COOL: 6 → 7

Ninjitsu: Lvl 3

Cold Blood: Lvl 4 → 5

Notable Cyberware:

FRONTAL CORTEX: None | None | None 

OCCULAR SYSTEM: Dead-Eye Optic

CIRCULATORY SYSTEM: None | None | None

IMMUNE SYSTEM: None | None

NERVOUS SYSTEM: None | None

INTEGUMENTARY SYSTEM: None | None | None

OPERATING SYSTEM: Dead-Eye Combat Analysis Regulation & Assistance Device [Mrk 0]

SKELETON: None | None

HANDS: None

ARMS: Military Grade Arasaka Cyberarm

LEGS: None

Chapter Text

June 20th, 2075

Night City, CA.

7:09 am PST.

6 months before a certain car accident.

“C’mon… almost… hah! Fucking finally,” Adrian cried out in success. It had taken him far longer than he’d wanted to, but he’d done it. He looked at the weapon in his hand, newly modified and cleaned. His Liberty had taken less effort to modify than the Achilles, which had taken him four days to finish up with, but It had been worth it. 

He had completely replaced the barrel and the mag well, to up the caliber of ammunition he could fire and replacing the regular mag well with a flared one to make reloading far easier on him. It meant reducing the ammo capacity from fourteen to ten, but he was willing to live with that if it meant his bullets were more effective. Adrian had also taken the time to start painting his weapons, which, in concert with the mods, helped him feel comfortable enough to actually give them names.

His Achilles hung over the workbench on a wrack set into the wall, it’s main body colored a deep, matte black with red along the grooves and the finer details. He’d thought of a couple of names for the thing, but had begun to settle on Adversity. Not for any particular reason; he just liked the name. 

He aimed down the sights of his Liberty, the long barrel of the gun a steady weight in his hands. He still had yet to decide on a color scheme for it yet, but it would probably involve black and red the primary colors. As for a name…

“Reckoning is a little on the nose, but I like it well enough. It’s at least catchy.”

Adrian put the gun to the side with a sigh, stretching his hands above his head as he let the day’s work settle through him. Then, the young merc reached down to the holster at his back, pulling out the silvery, long-barreled Malorian. The weapon was almost as pristine as the day he’d first used it. Though he had yet to even fire it outside of training since the cyberpsyho incident, it was still one of his most powerful weapons. 

“I wonder if you even need a name.” He knew that the person this model of gun had been made for, Johnny Silverhand, had named his own Malorian his ‘Last True Friend.’ Most people knew the model itself, rather than that name. Adrian knew that it would likely be a big decision if he did decide to paint this thing over. If he even should paint thsi thing. He knew he wouldn’t mod it - it was a masterpiece of a weapon, it didn’t need any help on that front. But still, this weapon, invaluable though it was, was the reason that all of this had happened in the first place. That meant something. He just… he wasn’t sure what. Not yet.

“Not what I need to be thinking about right now,” he said, putting the Malorian on the bench and rubbing at his face with both hands.

“Adrian?”

The young man flinched at the sudden voice, almost reaching for one of his guns before he recognized the voice as Maya’s. He turned and tried to give her a reassuring smile. He thought he might’ve failed, but her blank expression was the same as it was most days. She was still wearing pajamas, or some variation of them, and looked like she’d been asleep for at least a full week. 

“Hey sis. Did you need something?” he asked. Maya rarely interacted with him unless she was lonely or hungry. It had been over a month since everything had happened, but it was still affecting her deeply. He still heard her crying some nights. 

“… I wanna go back to school.”

This admission surprised him. Genuinely surprised him. Maya hadn’t shown any signs of interest or concern in continuing her education, which was entirely understandable, and he would’ve preferred to take her out of school entirely if that was what she wanted. 

“You’re sure?” he asked. Adrian wasn’t sure if she wanted to go back for his sake or for some other reason, but he wanted to know as much about this as he could. “Is that something you want?”

“Yes,” she answered, her simplistic monotone a far cry from the sarcastic sister he remembered. But then again, he and Maya were far from the people they had been when such things were common enough to be expected in everyday life. 

“… is there a reason beyond advancing your education that you want to go back to school?”

Maya visibly tensed up at this, as though the question itself was battering at the shield of indifference she’d been building up for herself. Stiffly, she nodded in answer to Adrian’s question, the movement itself taking visible effort even as she tried to keep her face neutral. She succeeded, but Adrian had seen the struggle on his sister’s face. She couldn’t deny it now, if he asked her about it.

“Do you feel comfortable talking about it?”

An immediate shake of her head. It was a jerky motion, as though she was trying to get across her refusal in any manner she could think of. Adrian just nodded. There was nothing wrong with that answer. If she wasn’t ready to talk, she wasn’t ready to talk. It wasn’t like refusing to answer was going to hurt anyone. Or at least, he hoped. Hopefully, she could be comfortable enough to talk about it soon.

But that wasn’t a topic for the moment. 

“You wanna… watch some TV? Maybe get some breakfast?”

Maya perked up at that, immediately going over to the fridge to start preparing something. Adrian let her, sitting down on the couch as he started channel surfing. Hours passed, made up of stupid shows and barely tolerable burritos. It was some of the most fun he’d had in a long time.

I should invite Rebecca over for this. Might be fun.

He’d have to be very clear about the purpose of such a visit, though. Knowing her, the short woman would probably interpret the suggestion as some kind of advance. And, while Adrian was definitely attracted to her, she was his friend first and foremost. He wasn’t going to screw that up just because his brain was being stupid. Even if she was the prettiest woman he’d ever seen.

At about eleven o’clock, Maya had fallen asleep again, to which Adrian sighed and took her over to her bed. She would have to get on a regular sleep schedule again if she really wanted to go back to school. He’d talk to her about it when she was awake next.

That was when he got a holo call. Surprisingly enough, it was from M. His ID wasn’t anything fancy, just a simple letter M against a dark background. Still, the guy didn’t usually call him at all, and the last time this had happened it was because he’d forgotten about training. That day had been particularly brutal.

He quickly picked it up, knowing that something like this was fairly unusual for the man. “Hey M. Is something wrong?”

“Nah. Just, uh… are you free today?”

“Yeah, why? Also, didn’t you say that too much training will just wear you out?”

“And I stand by that statement. This isn’t about that. This is… something else.”

“Well, let’s not beat around the bush then. What’s up?”

“… the heat around your house has died down. It’s… safe to go there now.”

.

..

…

“… I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

Adrian pulled up to the side of his street in his new Archer Hella, focusing on the interior of the car and just how good of a car it was. Yes, it didn’t get up to some crazy two hundred plus kph, but it did get a max of around one forty, which was perfectly adequate in Adrian’s opinion. He wasn’t a Nomad, so he’d rather take reliability over speed, especially since he had no plans of heading into the badlands anytime soon. The Hella was definitely not built with that environment in mind. 

He ran his hands along the steering wheel, breathing as he tried to distract himself from the husk of a building just to his left, and the man in the dark trench coat just in front of it. The fingers of his cybernetic hand moved almost soundlessly, though there was still that nearly inaudible movement in the joints that no one could truly muffle. 

But in the end, this was all a distraction from the fact that was sitting there, even a month after the fact. His mother was dead. Caught up in a corpo’s scheme that happened to ruin one of her own. Now that he had some perspective, he couldn’t blame her. Because despite her best efforts, despite the fact that she worked herself to the bone day in and day out… it hadn’t been enough. He wondered if it would have ever been enough, in the end. 

Sighing, Adrian forced himself to get out of the car, closing the door as he walked to the back of the vehicle. He opened the trunk, taking Adversity out of the car and slinging it over his back. Reckoning was at his hip, still as of yet unpainted, but fully modded out. The Malorian was always at his back whenever he left the house, even when he knew he wouldn’t be doing any merc work that day. It always paid to be prepared, after all. 

M looked at him patiently, his grizzled face pulled into a controlled, unreadable neutrality. His dark eyes were just as placid and patient, his stance relaxed but ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice. Adrian walked over to him, his steps slow and sure, echoing out through the whole neighborhood before he stopped next to the man. He adjusted his crystaljock bomber jacket, feeling the article not sitting quite right across his shoulders. Or maybe he was just trying to find some kind of excuse to avoid… to avoid looking to his left.

“… you sure you want to do this today, kid?” There was genuine concern in M’s voice, despite his attempt at maintaining an air of relative indifference. The fingers on his cybernetic arm were almost flexing, the telltale twitching of the digits telling Adrian about the nervous tick. He didn’t mention it, and let the man continue. “You can come back another time.”

“… maybe not,” Adrian admitted. He didn’t want to do this. Because looking at the ruins of his home was going to be painful. No matter the context, it was going to hurt him in some way. But…

“Better to face it now than let it eat away at me. If this helps me come to some kind of closure, then… I dunno. We’ll just have to see, won’t we?”

M gave Adrian a level look for several seconds, as though he was searching for something. He sighed, either finding what he was looking for or not. Adrian wasn’t sure. The man was practically unreadable sometimes. The man pulled something out of his jacket, then. An urn. A real, sculpted urn, not the metal ones that the city cremation services gave out as though as some kind of ‘fuck you’ to the deceased. Why…?

“Your mother was a good person,” M said, seeing the confusion on Adrian’s face. “Better than I’ll ever be. She deserves… well, better than this, that’s for damn sure. But it’s what I can do for now. Take the time you need. I’ll be waiting.”

Adrian just nodded. He took a breath, readjusting his grip on the urn in his hands. Despite the fact that this thing was so light, and hollow compared to stuff that he’d needed to hold before, this… it was heavy in a different way. He had to focus. If he didn’t focus, he might cry. And he wasn’t sure how he’d handle things of he started doing that.

Slowly, Adrian tore his gaze up from the sidewalk and up to the remains of his home. To call it a charred husk would be an understatement. There was little to no evidence left of all four corners of the place. One of the sides had actually burned down completely, the one that had been closest to the breaker box. It was where the fire had started. 

The young merc stepped up to the husk of his former home. Even with such a blazing fire, it hadn’t taken everything. Even fires left ashes, and ashes would feed the earth for the next forest that would grow in place of the old one. A long, but fitting proverb that his mother had once said to him. She’d had a lot of those. 

The smokey, sharp scent of melted metal was prominent throughout the space, laced through with charred plywood and ruined electronics. The door was the only part of the structure that had survived relatively intact, if only barely.

Adrian wasn’t angry when he punched the door off it’s track, making it a swinging door rather than a sliding one. Not at all. The roiling fire in his chest was just… it was just…

He shook his mind of those thoughts. He was distracting himself. He knew that. He… fuck, it was… damnit. Adrian wasn’t able to get away from this. Not now. Because as much as he wanted to deny it, he was angry. He was still angry. He wanted to punch something. He wanted a release for this burning coil of emotion in his chest. 

But doing any of that would risk destroying what was left of his home. The very, very little that was left. And damnit, he wasn’t going to give that up too. Not because of his anger towards some fucking corpo. Not for that fucking spider. Not for Faraday. 

He walked forward with a placid gait, his steps echoing against the wood. He saw the charred remains of bodies half buried in the rubble, where his mother had shot them before she had been shot herself. Their TV was gone from it’s place in the wall, melted away in the heat of the fire. The kitchen appliances were mostly intact, but the key word there was ‘mostly.’ There was no way they would be able to function after everything that had happened. 

Near the back door was a pair of bullet casings. The two that he had fired that night in the midst of chaos. Instead of the standard brass that most were made of, this one was a light, almost silvery color, and hadn’t melted despite the overwhelming heat. They were, perhaps, the truest evidence of his choice to survive, and his will to follow through with it. He picked them up. Like the urn, there was… a weight to them that was far more than their mass suggested. He stowed them away, feeling that he would likely use them sometime soon. 

Adrian draw his gaze to the room he had once shared with his sister, entirely burnt to the ground. Nothing remained of it. Not even the bed. Or even the compartment that had helped him to hide the Malorian in the first place. His steps were slowed, almost sluggish as he continued forward. Because what laid ahead of him… it was the reason he’d brough the urn in the first place.

Her remains were barely the suggestion of an outline at this point. The black of her form charred her beyond all recognition. Her hair had been burned away, as had all of his skin and much of her flesh. It was a gruesome sight. A horrifying sight. But it was one that he needed to seer into his memory. Because… because she deserved a proper burial. And the only way he would be able to do that was by looking this in the eye… by looking this in the eye and… and…

FUck, fuck fuck fuck fuck!

Adrian collapsed back into the remains of a charred wall, his breathing rapidly quickening as he tried, and failed, to master himself. He couldn’t do it. He just couldn’t do it. He couldn’t look at her body, couldn’t look at the charred remains of the woman who’d been his mother. It was just too much. He pulled his knees to his chest like the child he had been little more than a month ago, and barely kept himself from sobbing. 

He would never see her again. Never make her dinner when she came home late. Never see that tired smile she always got when he and Maya argued about something ridiculous. Never hear her tell a story that only she and their dad had truly understood. All of that time, all of those memories, made here in this home that had once belonged to all of them. And now… now it was gone. Now, she would never eat his cooking again. Never smile at him again. Never tell another story. Not to anyone. 

He went through his contacts list. He needed to talk to someone. Someone he could trust. M was outside, but he couldn’t muster up the nerve to bridge that gap. M was his teacher, but Adrian wasn’t sure if the man would approve something that went beyond the context of that relationship. Maya would’ve listened. Hell, if she’d been awake, Adrian would’ve taken her with him, if that was what she’d wanted. But she was asleep, and even in his distressed state, he didn’t want to upset the delicate balance she’d managed to obtain for herself. That left him with…. with her. His only real friend in Night City.

Surprisingly, she picked up pretty quickly. This was unusual for her, especially since she was a pretty busy person by nature.

“Hey there choom. What’s up? You need help with a gig?” she asked, her boisterous demeanor a balm to Adrian’s anxieties and fears. “You know the normal rates for that, so when and where doyou need me?”

“Oh, uh… no. Nothing like that today,” Adrian replied, his voice unusually monotone as he tried to maintain a sense of calm. “Just… really needed to hear your voice.”

“What, you in love with me or something?” she asked in a teasing tone.

“You wish,” Adrian replied, no heat or teasing to his voice. Just that same monotone. “But I… I just wanted to talk to someone. Needed to talk to someone. To distract me.”

“Distract you from what?”

“It’s… it’s not important,” Adrian said, rushing his words and knowing that he’d made a mistake. “I’m fine. I… I’m fine.”

“… Adrian, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing… nothing right now,” he said. He moved his hands up and down his thighs, the motion distracting him from his mother’s charred corpse as he tried to get some breath into his lungs. 

“You’re not acting like yourself - something’s clearly wrong. Where are you?”

“I-”

“I am not leaving you alone right now when you’re clearly in some kind of distress! Where are you?”

.

..

…

“… my old house.”

“… the one that burned down?”

“… yeah.”

“… fuck. Gimme the address and I’ll be there in five minutes. Don’t move a goddamn muscle!”

With the daze of genuine surprise, Adrian sent her the address without a word of objection, and with the brief rustling of rapidly moving cloth, the call cut off. Adrian… wasn’t sure how to feel about this. On the one hand, his friend was coming, and it would help him deal with this episode in a better, healthier way. On the other hand… he had just given her the address to the ruins of his old life. And he didn’t know why.

Was it because he trusted her? Partly, he supposed. He did trust her, but this was… different. It was one thing to tell each other stories and try drinking each other under the table, or occasionally flirt with each other in a casual manner - which was something that he did not have the mental capacity to consider in the moment. It was another to give them the direct address of the location where the worst fucking night of your life had taken place.

Twenty seven minutes. He could think about it now, if he calculated for the time he’d spent unconscious. All in all, the worst even of Adrian’s life had taken twenty seven fucking minutes. It felt… wrong. Like some sick joke of the universe that someone’s entire world could be utterly shredded to pieces in less than half an hour. But it had happened. He was living through it’s fallout, after all. He doubted Faraday even thought about that night all that much, beyond the cost of the men who had died and the supposed leverage that the night had bought him. 

But Adrian remembered. He remembered the man’s voice. His lithe, spiderlike silhouette. The arrogance in his every expression, as though he were worth more than all their worldly possessions. He remembered the look on his face as he’d sentenced his family to death; a look of strategic satisfaction. Not glee. Not apathy. Not resignation. Contentment. Fucking contentment.

But more than all of that, Adrian knew his face. He didn’t think he would ever forget that man’s face. Or the three eyes one the right side of his face. Not now, not ever. 

He lost track of time before he heard the telltale sound of a heavy vehicle screeching to a halt as someone got out and slammed the door shut. He heard M try to keep her away, to which she promptly responded with a variation of ‘fuck off, old man!’ He seemed to be so shocked by the outburst that he didn’t even bother to stop her as she advanced into the house itself.

Her hair hadn’t been done up, flowing down her back in a full pastel green waterfall. She was missing her hairband, and her lips were unpainted. The hoodie she wore only looked half on, a fact that she still wasn’t bothering to correct. Her pink and green eyes looked at him with concern and worry. Damn. Those weren’t expression he liked seeing on her. It meant that either something was well and truly fucked in a way she couldn’t fix, or that her concern was far too much to restrain. 

“… hey,” he eventually said, by way of greeting. She took him in, then, sitting in the ashes of his former home, knees held to his chest like a child. “You didn’t… you shouldn’t have come.”

“Of course I did,” she said, moving over to Adrian and sitting down next to him, not minding the fact that ash and char was currently littering the floor and she wasn’t wearing any pants as per usual. “You were in trouble. So I came. I always help out my friends.”

“Are we? Friends, I mean?”

Rebecca raised a brow at that question. “How do you mean?”

“Rebecca, you’re awesome. Never doubt that I believe that for a moment. Just… why now? Why me? Why… why do you care?”

.

..

…

“… because I choose to care. Because I say you’re my friend, and I always look out for my friends. Doesn’t matter if we’ve known each other a month or a decade; you’re important to me. And, whether you believe me or not… because I think you’re worth it. You’re a good choom, Adrian. One of my best, believe it or not. I actually haven’t had any regular drinking buddies since my Mox days. Sure, I go out to drink with the crew a lot, but that’s different. More like group get-togethers rather than what we’ve got going on.”

“And what is that?” he asked, his voice getting a bit more life to it.

Noticing, Rebecca smiled coyly as she replied, “An ongoing bet to see who’s got the most outrageous story in all of Night City!”

Adrian chuckled at her descriptions of their hangouts at The Garden of Choice. “I suppose we do, don’t we?”

“Yup. I’m beating you, by the way.”

“You are not,” Adrian rebuffed. 

“Am too! Just wait ‘til tomorrow; I’m gonna blow your fucking gonk mind!” she replied with a massive grin. Then she looked towards the entrance of the ruined home, and asked a question he’d been expecting for a little while. “Who’s the old man out front?”

“Oh, him? That’s M.”

“… as in…”

“Yup. The one who’s been teaching me to fight.”

“And I just…”

“Did I also mention he’s at the top of my ‘scariest motherfuckers’ list?”

Stunned silence for several seconds followed that proclamation. And the look of utter shock on her face was priceless.He gave a small, genuine smile of amusement. Rebecca rather predictably pouted in response, turning but her head in a way that just made him laugh more. Her pout quickly turned into a smile as she looked back at him. “How’re you feeling now?”

“… better,” he admitted, letting his gaze turn back to the body in front of him. Rebecca followed his gaze, her expression slowly turning somber. He didn’t make any moves to explain the corpse, and she didn’t ask any questions. Silence came back over them, and it wasn’t the deafening variety he’d experienced while he’d been alone in this place. For that, he was grateful.

She leaned her head into his shoulder, the contact sending a warmth through Adrian’s body that he couldn’t describe. Part surprise, part arousal, part comfort. He didn’t have a word for it. But he leaned his head against hers, silently thanking her for the comfort. 

“… I think I know who that is,” she said. “You haven’t touched it, but there’s an urn nearby, and I actually saw footprints on the other bodies. Am… I right?”

He nodded wordlessly. Truth be told, Adrian hadn’t been minding his steps when he’d come in. But he felt no remorse for his carelessness. Those men had come here to kill him and his family. He would be glad if they were remembered as little more than numbers on a flow sheet. 

“Well… do you want some help with it? The body, I mean?”

“… I’d like that. Thank you.”

Wordlessly, they started to break down her body into ash. Truth be told, the only thing that was holding her general shape together was the brittle solidity of her charred flesh. She fell apart quickly, and before long they were able to stuff all of her remains into the urn that M had given to him. Not a single speck of ash was left behind. Not for her. 

Rebecca had been surprisingly gentle in her assistance. At no point did she use an excessive amount of force as she would on her enemies. Instead, she simply broke down the pieces bit by bit, her motions calm and precise. Adrian tried to help, but he was a bit too much of a wreck to help her out in that way. But he did help as he could, and before long they were done.

“Thank you for coming,” he said again. “You really helped me out. I owe you one.”

Rebecca gave his shoulder a light tap, her way of telling him that he said something kinda stupid. “Of course, ya gonk. Friends don’t count favors. They just help out when you ask them to.”

He smiled at her. “Right. Still, I am grateful for this.”

She smiled back. “You’re welcome. You skipping tonight?”

“I think I will. Don’t really wanna bring the mood down.”

“As long as that’s what you’re comfortable with,” Rebecca said, pointing a finger directly in his face. “But if you still need to talk to someone tonight, call me. Got it?”

“I got it.”

“Good. Anyway, I’m gonna find a way to sneak around M because I’m pretty sure he can kill me pretty easily if he’s been teaching you how to fight.”

“You have that high an opinion of my combat skills?”

“Adrian, you’ve been doing merc work for a month and have done the following: took out a Scav base and a cyberspycho by yourself, took done none too few Tyger Claws right alongside me a few weeks ago, and managed to take down a goddamn building’s worth of Valentinos without killing a single one of them. And apparently, you’re nowhere near M’s level of expertise. Of course I have a high opinion of you, even if you are still learning. So if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna find a way to sneak away from the scariest person I’ve had a chance encounter with.”

“In what, exactly? That brick of a vehicle you call a truck?” he asked, pointing to the Thorton that rested just on the curb. “How the hell do you reach the pedals, anyways? It’s not like you’re all that tall.”

“First off, I am a petite and sexy five feet with an ass that people would kill for!” Rebecca boldly declared with an accompanying light smack to her posterior for emphasis. “Also… I had to do a custom driver’s seat and get adjustable pedals. That was fucking expensive.”

Adrian sucked in a hiss of breath through his teeth. Yeah, that was expensive. Still, despite her appearance, she was actually twenty one years old. He’d known that she was older than him, but he hadn’t expected quite that much of an age gap. 

It’s certainly not a turn off, though.

Adrian shook those thoughts from his mind. He really shouldn’t be thinking things like that on a day like this. With his mother’s urn in hand, he walked out of his home, a less conflicted expression on his face as Rebecca tore up the street with a tense look in her eyes. He smiled as she left, coming to stand by M as they watched her drive off into the city.

“… she your input or something?”

Adrian laughed at the question, though not unkindly. “No, we aren’t dating. Also, if we were, it’d be output, not input.”

M actually raised a brow at that. “Really? Huh. Slang was different back in my day, but I guess the change is plausible. Helps the whole plug analogy make a lot more sense.”

A few seconds passed as sunlight fell down on them, interrupted with the spotty clouds that Night City was often known for. 

“Given the fact that you didn’t balk at the suggestion, I’m guessing you wouldn’t mind that prospect?”

Adrian shrugged. “It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. She’s… she’s awesome. Too good for a sad sack like me.”

M gave him a firm flick to the forehead at that. The spot stung, but the pain faded after a moment. 

“The hell was that about?” he asked, rubbing at his forehead.

“That was to get you out of your own head,” M said. “I don’t really do romance, but I’ve been on the outside of enough relationships to know that communication is your best tool. Also doesn’t hurt to build up some confidence. Just don’t let it swell up into arrogance. That’s a pretty big turn off for most people no matter who they’re attracted to.”

Adrian gave him a confused tilt of his head, face pulled into a questioning glance. “Why’re you giving me relationship advice? Besides, just because I think of her like that doesn’t mean she think of me like that. I’ve only known her for a month.”

M just shrugged. “Maybe I took an interest in your love life. It get kinda boring when you’re not around. Your training is really the only thing I do other than talking to Vik.”

“So, what? You and my ripper are gossiping about my love life like a couple of high school girls?”

“You’ll never know.”

Adrian barked out a laugh, and M just gave a slight smile in response. A lull in their conversation came about once again, and it wasn’t an uncomfortable one. Still, there was another question on Adrian’s mind. One that he hoped would be answered sooner rather than later. 

“How did you know my mom?”

M went with the same story he’d told Adrian before. “I told you already; she contacted me about a job-”

“Yeah, you did tell me that,” he interrupted. “But that implies she knew how to get into contact with you at all. That shouldn’t be possible, especially since you’ve been out of the public eye for half a damn century, and someone with a name as infamous as… that one would be pretty selective with who they gave their contact info. If she knew how to get ahold of you, it was because you trusted her. So I’ll ask again… how the hell did you and my mom know each other?”

The direct question drew the grizzled man up short. His gaze went back to the skyline of Night City, as though he were lost in thought. Adrian to looked back at the city, tightening the grip around his mother’s urn. Seconds passed as tension built in the air, a thickening fog that only got worse as the seconfs ticked by. Eventually, M spoke up. And his answer surprised Adrian. 

“That’s… a long story,” he said. “A really long story. One that I… I’m not sure I have the right to speak about it.”

…

“I hate to break it to you, M, but you’re the only person around who can tell it anymore.”

“… I know,” he said, pulling something from the side pocket of his trench coat. A pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He stuck one in his mouth and went through the motions of lighting one up, taking a long drag from the thing. “I know. Still doesn’t make the prospect of it any less… wrong, to me. I’ll need time to prepare myself for that day.”

“How much time?”

“I have no fucking idea,” M said with a defeated sigh. “But I will tell you. Someday. Not today.”

Adrian nodded. “Thanks. For giving me time. And for letting Rebecca come in.”

“Honestly, I wasn’t gonna, but I’m not used to people standing up to me so blatantly. Girl’s got a spine tougher than Arasaka Tower.”

“She’s definitely got a spine,” Adrian commented, not bothering to add that she was scared out of her mind once she found out he was Adrian’s mentor. That brought another question to mind.

“She didn’t mention anything about your hand, though. How’d you hide it?”

“There are these things called pockets, kid,” M replied, demonstrating the simple strategy by putting his cybernetic hand into one of the ones in his trench coat. “Even if she did see it, it’s not like I’m the only one who has a black cyberarm.”

“… I guess that’s fair, but your arm is pretty damn distinctive,” Adrian acquiesced.

“Why do you think I wear long sleeves most of the time?”

“Touche.”

M gave Adrian a long look, as though he were contemplating something. Then he sighed, as though shrugging to himself, and held te pack of cigarettes towards him. “Here. Take one.”

“I don’t smoke,” Adrian objected. 

“I know, but I figured we should see whether or not you like it,” M said. “Plus, it’ll look at least a little weird if you don’t have a vice of some kind.”

“So the solution to that is indulging in one? Also, I already drink.”

“It’s Night City. Everyone here drinks.”

“Casually, maybe, but… actually, do you know how I met Rebecca?”

“You never told me,” M mentioned with a shrug. “Which I don’t blame you for. Private life is a private life.”

“You literally just asked if she was my girlfriend.”

“I get curious. And bored. Mostly bored.”

“… anyway,” Adrian continued with a motion of his own cyberarm. “We met at a bar, and a few weeks ago we officially became drinking buddies. And despite the fact that she’s almost a foot shorter than me, that woman drinks a lot, and i can barely keep up with her most nights.”

M gave a grunt. “Do you drink much outside of that?”

“No.”

“Then that’s not a vice, just something you do with a friend,” M said. “I know it might not be the best idea in the world, but I thought I might as well give you some options. Plus, it can take the edge off. Also helps that cigs are a lot less prone to causing disease than they used to be.”

“Cigs had a rate of disease?” that was news to him. As far as he knew, medical complications regarding things like cigarettes were nonexistent if you didn’t have a hyper specific allergy. Something that they used in the cigarettes themselves, he heard. Of course, there were still dangerous and deadly drugs on the street level; he’d pilfered a shipment of the stuff on his last job after all. But cigarettes weren’t among the deadly variety of narcotics.

“You’d be surprised what intense marketing campaigns can do for a product. So? It’s not like you’re allergic to these things, right? Won’t hurt you to try just one.”

.

..

…

“… fine,” Adrian said, taking the proffered death stick. “But this is the only one I’ll ever have.”

By the time he drove away from the ruins of his home, Adrian had smoked about three more before M just gave him the rest of the pack and a spare lighter along with it. He cursed himself all the way to Misty’s.

“Maya? You awake?” Adrian closed the door behind himself as he entered the apartment, his steps measured as he tried not to disturb her too much. Maya had become a fitful sleeper over the last month, and just because she’d made the choice to go back to school didn’t mean that she would suddenly be okay going back to what was considered a regular sleep schedule. 

It wasn’t like Adrian had a lot of ground to stand on though. His chosen occupation of merc work didn’t exactly allow for a normal sleep schedule either. 

“I’m here,” she said, looking at Adrian from around the corner, her mess of tangled black hair hanging into her face. “What is it?”

Adrian sighed, rubbing at his scar as he stepped inside, throwing his jacket over the coat hanger and slumping down on the couch in front of their TV. He patted the seat next to him as he placed the urn on the coffee table, hand drifting into his pocket, clasping around what he’d had Misty help him make. 

Maya said nothing as she sat. She didn’t even look at him. She just stared at the urn. It was unusual to see something like it in Night City, especially since artsy pieces were normally considered a luxury for the elite. But she also knew what it meant. She knew that he wasn’t the type to buy this kind of thing. Not unless they needed it.

“… you went home.”

“… yeah.”

Seconds passed. For a stretch of long moments, nothing happened, and a silence filled the room. Then Maya punched him in the shoulder. Hard.

“I deserved that,” Adrian said, rubbing at the spot. 

Then she surprised him by pulling him into a sudden hug. It surprised him. He thought that she’d be mad. She should be mad, by all rights. But as nearly silent sobs shook her body, he realized that she wasn’t mad that he’d gone home. Not quite.

“You went alone,” she said, pulling him closer. “Stupid. Shouldn’t have gone alone, you fucking idiot.”

“… you were asleep,” Adrian said, returning the hug. “You’d just decided to go back to school. I thought… I didn’t know if this would make you relapse. Didn’t want to risk it.”

“That was my choice,” Maya said, her voice firm. “Mine. Not yours. Mine.”

“… you’re right,” Adrian admitted. “I should’ve talked to you. I’m sorry.”

“Good,” she said as she pulled back from their hug. “Good.”

“I… wasn’t alone, though,” Adrian said. “Called someone. Thought you were still asleep, and I didn’t want to wake you.”

That actually caused a bit of life to return to Maya’s eyes. “Rebecca?”

“Yeah, actually. Helped me through… some rough shit. How’d you know?”

“You talk about her so much that I’m surprised she isn’t your output already.”

“Oh my god, I am not having this conversation a second time today.”

She gave a light chuckle at that, accompanied by a light, almost invisible smile. Adrian, unable to help himself, smiled in turn. It was a bit like old times again. Not exactly the same. Nothing ever would be. But it was a reminder that, while they had lost much that night, they hadn’t lost everything. there was still something to fight for. And he would rather die than loose it.

“I, uh… had some stuff made,” he said, pulling his hand out of his pocket. When he opened his hand, he revealed the two pendants that Misty had helped him make. They had taken a couple of hours, even with her help, but he’d still done most of the work himself. It just felt… right. Like it was something that he was supposed to do. 

“Are those…?” she asked, looking down at the pendants in shock. Within the small loops of steel were a pair of bullet casings. Silver bullet casings. The same pair that he’d picked up from their home that very same day. 

“Yeah,” he answered. He took one and put it around Maya’s neck, the metal chain loose enough to let him do it one handed. Even as disheveled as she was, it looked good on her. “These are for the two of us. One for you, and one for me.”

“… what for?”

“A promise,” Adrian said, putting his own pendant around his neck before holding out his normal hand to her. “To stay alive. To come back to each other no matter what. And to always have each other’s backs no matter what.”

Maya just stared at his offered hand for several long seconds. This was partly for her sake. An assurance that he would always fight his hardest to get back to her, that he would protect her. But it was also for himself. To stay alive. His chosen line of work had a sky high mortality rate. He wasn’t sure if he would ever become one of the old monsters of Night City’s mercenary world, like M was, but he was damn sure not gonna roll over and let the city swallow him up. 

And if he happened to become a legend on the way? That was just a bonus in his eyes.

Something in his sister’s gaze eventually hardened, like she’d come to a decision. She took his hand in hers and shook, hard, as though to burn the sensation into both their memories. He squeezed back just as hard. He didn’t want her to forget this moment either. 

“Okay,” Adrian said, standing up and moving to his workbench. “I’ve got some stuff to work out here, so feel free to get some actual sleep. I’ll call the school tomorrow and see how we can get you caught up. That sound like a good start?”

Maya nodded, and went over towards the actual bed in the apartment. Most night, Adrian jus slept on the couch, but Maya sometimes asked him to sleep in the same bed with her. He thought it was because of nightmares. That was what she usually said. He didn’t question it. 

But he didn’t think tonight was going to be one of those nights. It was probably going to be an all-nighter. Hours passed as he worked through designs, painting Reckoning to his liking, the black body with red details a popping contrast that he rather liked.

Then he moved on to the weapon that had started it all. The Malorian Arms 3516. The one that had caused Arasaka to storm into their homes. The one that had saved their lives. The one that had been used to kill the first, and as of yet, only cyberpsycho that he had ever fought. It was a powerful weapon. It wouldn’t be considered a Borg gun otherwise. Hell, he was pretty sure that it was the single most infamous model of Borg gun in existence. 

Enough of one that an Arasaka exec had sent one of his goons after it without telling them the finer details of what they would be retrieving. He supposed that caution had been a part of what had spared him and Maya. That didn’t mean he was grateful, far from it. But he could at least acknowledge it as a fact. Even if the gun was little more than a personal calamity.

Adrian looked at the gun now, wiping off his hands now that he was finished painting. The thing was almost entirely black, from barrel to grip, with red detailing in the same style as Adversity and Reckoning, the most obvious one being the MALORIAN logo on the side of the barrel, done entirely in red to contrast the black of the main body. It was simple, but striking. Just the way he liked it.

He took it up in his cyberarm, aiming down the sights as the smartlink connected and the firing mechanism sounded to life. It was still as perfect as the day he’d first fired it, and the paint he’d purchased had bee designed for painting guns specifically, even with all the heat that came from them. It also meant that anything he put on them would be permanent. 

But as Adrian looked at the Malorian in his hand, he smiled. This was not a smile of satisfaction, nor one of contentment or happiness. It was a vicious, cruel thing, one that he would only show to truly hated enemies. One that silently told any who saw it that unless you were supremely, stupidly lucky, you would not be leaving his sights alive.

Because he and this gun were a Calamity the likes of which would not be stopped. Which could not be stopped. God have mercy on whoever stood in their way. For Adrian, and this weapon called Calamity, would give them none.

Chapter Text

July 23rd, 2075

Night City, CA.

2:29 pm PST.

5 months before a certain car accident.

It was official. Maya hated school. She’d thought she had hated it before her impromptu month off, but now that she was back, everything just felt… wrong. People hadn’t talked differently. Hadn’t looked at her differently beyond the surface level. Just went on with their lives like nothing was wrong. 

She knew it was selfish to think that. That everyone there had their own lives and their own struggles. That didn’t make her feel any better, though. It was stupid, but feelings were often stupid. And Maya knew enough about herself to make the call. She was going to quit. If she stayed in this place any longer, with the stupid smiles and laughter and cheer, and those stupid fucking boys leering at her like she was a piece of meat, she was going to kill someone, and it wasn’t going to be pretty.

Maya tapped her short nail against her desk, her eyes boring holes into the analog clock set into the wall. The school she went to was under-funded, just like any school in Night City that wasn’t owned by a corporation, but less so than the other schools. It actually had some relatively modern tech due to some partnership with a larger company, though she suspected that partnership would turn to ownership swiftly within the next few years or so. 

She took in the classroom for what might well be the last time. The floors had been redone, a sort of linoleum or something to that effect, to replace whatever had been used there before. Renovations were ongoing in the gym, which was probably going to get repurposed into a BD lab. The desks were new, too. Back when Adrian had still been enrolled here, they had been some model from the twenty forties - practically scrap in the form of desks. 

Of course, then he’d dropped out and gotten involved with some gang she didn’t know the name of. To this day, Maya wasn’t sure how Adrian had managed to get out of that whole predicament without any favors or implications or outright bullshit, but he had, and he hadn’t bothered to explain. Besides, they had more important things to worry about right now. 

She gave a sigh of relief once the electronic bell rang out with it’s soft chime, stepping away from her desk and heading right for the door of the classroom. The teacher objected, but she was far past giving a damn what he thought. What any of them thought, really. The only things in her life that really mattered anymore were The Net and Adrian. If she could have both of those, she would be golden.

Although she certainly wouldn’t mind having a girlfriend. If only all the boys would stop fucking pestering her for some goddamn reason, she could’ve actually gotten a handle on that particular problem. 

Maya ran her hand through her hair, taking a few deep breaths as she continued down the hallway. She was almost at doors. That was good. Once she was out of the school, she could call Adrian to come and get her, and she could talk to him about dropping out of the school. He might not take her dropping out well, especially since it was what their mom had wanted for her, but it was her decision. She knew he would respect it, especially now. 

But when Maya got outside, the sunlight of the California afternoon raining down on her face, she saw a trio of girls outside with cruel smiles on their faces, and blanched. This was not going to be a good day.

The two in the background were a pair of pretty bitches that Maya knew unfortunately well, if only by the sting of their designed shoes in her shins and calves. It was a rather distinct sensation that she would likely never forget despite her best efforts. But they were both indistinct blurs compared to their ringleader. She was a stunning young woman. Only a year older than Maya, she was perhaps the prettiest woman that she’d ever seen, with glowing fair skin and straight dark hair that fell in a waterfall of darkness around her. It was matched with a coordinated outfit, a blue jacket that matched up with the band in her hair. The jacket was open, sitting over a white t-shirt that was well fitted to her curvaceous figure, highlighting her assets without displaying them outright. The same could be said of her designer jeans, hugging her hips and ass in such a way that it was impossible for her to not draw attention with every strut, her heeled, espensive shoes making distinct noises with every step.

Maya simultaneously hated, envied, and lusted for that eye-catcher known to the school as Emily Sanchez. There were three primary problems with this attraction. First was the fact that she was straight. Braver girls than her had tried, and failed, to gain her affections, and that didn’t stop her from occasionally taking some of the more ‘attractive’ boys up on their offers back when she’d still been single. Secondly was the fact that she hadn’t been single for the last several months, having finally gotten a steady input after years of… well, being a complete slut. Maya tried to find a different word to describe her - especially due to the context of that descriptor and the fact that this was her former crush and occasional wet-dream fantasy, but it was the best she had. 

That third problem reared it’s ugly head as the gaggle of women cornered her in a darker section of the school where teachers couldn’t see them, with Emily’s boytoy hanging around them near the back of the group. It was the fact that Emily Sanchez, school beauty, prodigal genius, and good little daddy’s girl, was a manipulative, sadistic, two faced little bitch.

“I didn’t think you had it in you, y’know,” Emily said, pacing along their little stretch of privacy while the rest of the students poured out of the place. “To stick around this along. I was so sure that you wouldn’t last a week when you came back; hell, you didn’t even seem to care about anything! And yet… here you are. Still sticking it out. Still acting like a little skank.”

“What’s this about, Em?” Maya asked, knowing that the nickname would annoy the bratty slut, at the very least. “Is it because you’re suddenly not the center of my world? Hate to break it to you, but you haven’t been that for a long time now.”

Emily spread her hands, as though putting Maya on display for her friends and her boytoy - she might call him an input, but that was all he was to her. A toy. She just hoped that he would realize that fact before too long. “She speaks! Long have tales been whispered of the day she would speak again! And she has deigned to do so for our sakes! Oh, praise be for this day is truly blessed!”

Her friends gave those irritating, high-pitched giggles that set her teeth on edge. Her boytoy just stood there, dumb and muscular and handsome like finely carved rock. Not her type. Not by a long shot. 

“Still, I’m going to have to ask-”

“Fuck off.”

…

“What did-”

“I’m sorry, are you deaf?” Maya said, her anger at this bitch’s haughty arrogance boiling into something. Something that had been building during that month that she’d been borderline comatose, and even moreso since she’d come back to school. But something had to give, and Emily had chosen today, of all days, when Maya was sure she couldn’t handle being in this fucking environment any longer, to come and be queen bitch. No. No more. Not today. “I said fuck off. Sorry I don’t have enough time in my day to fawn over you like some tragic fantasy you’ve always dreamed about, but I don’t have the time or the inclination to give a fuck what you want. Because you know what? I am leaving. I decided to leave this morning, after giving this whole damn thing one more fucking try. And you know what I realized? I can’t fucking stand any of you anymore! Watching you all go on with your lives like the worst night of my life never happened is infuriating in a way I can’t express with words!

“So I’m sorry that things can’t just go back to normal when my whole damn world fell apart. Sorry I couldn’t be my usual, stupid self because I was dealing with the fact that my mom is dead. Except I’m not. Because I owe you nothing. Not my anger. Not my sadness. Not my ill-placed lust. Nothing.”

.

..

…

“… put her on the ground.”

Before Maya could move, Emily’s boytoy suddenly shot across the space, planting his fist in her gut. She coughed out a lungful of wind, unable to take a breath as she crumpled to the ground in pain. Emily’s heeled shoe started to dig into her shoulder, twisting as she tried to make Maya hurt. Much to her own, private shame, she succeeded. 

“I don’t give a damn that your mommy’s dead,” she said, tone flippant. Even her entourage, sans the boytoy, looked hesitant at her words. “A dumb bitch who should’ve kept her head down; it’s all she ever was, and all you’ll ever be.”

She looked at her nails, which were deceptively sharp despite their relatively mundane appearance. Maya was pretty sure they were combat implants, although she had little proof beyond her own, long faded cuts from the young woman over the years. And if she did have them, they would be illegal, since she’d gotten them before her sixteenth birthday, and selling combat cyberware, even stuff like this, to minors was an actual crime. Firearms regulations were fairly lax in Night City - half the damn population carried, after all, but cyberware when it came to minors was enforced with deadly seriousness. At least, Maya hoped it was. She honestly had no idea.

“You’re here because I like you. I find you amusing,” Emily said, sending her hair out into that stereotypical wave that was supposed to entrance people. Maya saw it for what it was: the veneer of a vain, cruel person who wanted little more than everything she could get out of everyone around her. A consequence of never being told ‘no,’ she supposed. “You little crush was nice. Who knows? Please me and I just might be open to some… experimentation.”

That was a trap, and Maya knew it. She wasn’t nearly so blind as she used to be. Not anymore. Not after that night.

“Why don’t… you take… that offer… shove it… up your ass… and fuck yourself with it, you stupid bitch?”

Emily sneered. Maya was going to be regretting this later, but that look - that look of contempt and hate… it was a victory. She’d pulled off the mask. Showed the world who she really was. It wouldn’t do much. Not for the world at large. She doubted Emily’s friends would even remember what happened back here tomorrow. But she had the satisfaction of knowing that, in the end, it was her who’d ripped the damned thing off. Who’d revealed her for the monster that she was.

And as the dark haired bitch raised her right hand, the appendage taking on a claw-like position as the edges of her colored nails glinted in the few rays of sunlight - they really had been cyberware after all - a voice came from the end of the space. 

“You’d better step the fuck away before bad things start happening.”

The cold tone was unfamiliar to Maya, but the voice itself was one that she’d heard all her life. At the other end of the dark corner, silhouetted by the fading sunlight of the afternoon, he stood. Their shared features and nearly six foot height made him seem intimidating from where she was at the moment, and a thread of fear ran through her for just a moment before she realized that it really was her brother. His clothing remained largely the same, with one of those crystaljock bomber jackets set over a dark t-shirt and grey pants. 

Unlike the plain ones, she knew that this one had been made custom, after he’d set aside some eddies for himself at her rather dogged insistence. Embroidered into the back of it was a hawk in all red, wings spread and break pointed to the sky. It was a design that was simple, but eye-catching in that subtle way that Adrian preferred.

Emily looked back at him with an annoyed sneer. “What? Think you’re gonna play the hero, have her swoon over you? She’s not into guys, loverboy, so kindly fuck off and leave us to our business.”

“I’m no hero,” Adrian said, his tone as ice as he stepped further into the corner. So casually confident was his stride that no one bothered to stop him. “Never try to be. But when it comes to my little sister, I think I can make an exception.”

Emily's eyes widened at that little tidbit. It had been a couple of years since Adrian had dropped out, but she still should’ve recognized some resemblance to Maya. She almost chuckled as she watched the woman’s eyes rove over Adrian’s form. And latching onto the fact that he was carrying iron at his hip.

Heh. Mom would’ve loved that reference.

“So, once more… step the fuck away before bad things start happening.”

Emily still sneered at him, lips furrowing into an expression so blatantly hostile that she might as well have been covered in neon signs to indicate the fact. “Like I give a damn! Do you know who my father is?”

“There you go, throwing around daddy like a hammer at all your problems,” Adrian said, stepping into her personal space and glaring right at her. “You might not be a corpo, but goddamn do you ever act like them. You don’t own me, and you can’t buy me. I’m not backing down until you either let my sister go, or I make you. So, for the third and final time… step the fuck back before bad things start happening.”

His glare intensified as he finished his final warning. His left eye - his normal eye, was icy and cold and downright bloodthirsty. But it was something recognizable. Something tangible. Human, cruel though it was. His right, in combination with the burn scar that marred almost a quarter of his face, was something else. It was just as icy, just as cold, just as bloodthirsty. But there was something abstract about the way it looked that made it… unknown. Inhuman. And Maya, for the briefest of moments, quailed at the sight of her brother’s gaze, even as it was affixed on another. 

Emily, either blind with fear or just plain stupidity, the kind that was only brought about by imagined invincibility, took a fast swipe at Adrian’s face. He caught her hand with his left - the one of flesh and blood, stopping her in her tracks before she could so much as touch him.

“Let it be known… you were warned.”

Then, his right fist came around. It launched forward at a speed so blindingly fast that Maya couldn’t track it, though she could trace the aftermath of the metal hand’s destruction. Emily slammed into one of the wall of their dark little corner, her landing echoing through the space with a loud crash. Emily’s face wasn’t so pretty anymore, with a broken cheekbone and a dislocated jaw. Maya was honestly surprised that she hadn’t seen any teeth fly. Adrian may have been holding back, considering the fact that her head hadn’t straight up popped off her shoulders, but she was grateful nonetheless.

Emily’s boytoy, however, had yet to appreciate that someone with a cybernetic arm could so a lot more damage than someone who was basically a ‘ganic with no marital arts training. Adrian had both, and proved it when he took the man’s wayward punch and directed him into a lock, then releasing him from it, using that confusion to punch the guy right in the face. He also flew back, and practically feel on top of Emily, his own face bruised with the telltale signs of broken and dislocated things. 

Her brother looked at the remaining two women - the hangers-on whose names she still didn’t recall after all this time. His expression remained unchanged. “You got a problem?”

They quickly shook their heads, backing away from the dark corner as they fled the scene. No veneer of some ‘chivalrous code’ to protect them from that kind of violence. Adrian abhorred those kinds of codes. Called that ‘an exercise in idiocy and a path to certain death.’ She couldn’t blame the excuse - most people he’d fought against had tried to kill him, and those people had included none too few of the fairer sex.

He knelt down next to her, gaze turning from cold to concerned as he looked at her general posture. She wanted to look away. Partly out of fear, but mostly out of shame. Maya had never wanted Adrian to see something like that. Things with Emily had never been great, but they hadn’t been nearly so bad before, either. And… she didn’t want him to keep coming to her rescue. As much of a comfort as it was, she couldn’t rely on hm to be there forever.

I don’t want to go through what I did with mom ever again. Not ever.

She opened her mouth, that thought giving her the mad courage to say what she felt she needed to say. 

“I… I want to drop out.”

Adrian raised a brow at the declaration, but didn’t object to it. Instead, he asked a question. “Are you saying that because you want to leave, or because you need to leave?”

Maya had to think on that, but only for a moment. She knew that she was going to leave. Because all the normalcy, all the banality, all the damn immutability of it all… it ate into her. Ate at her. Took her sanity from her bit by bit by bit. If she stayed here, she was going to go insane.

“… both. I want to leave because I need to leave.”

.

..

…

“… okay.”

A few hours later, they sat in front of a shooting range. It was one of those copy/paste things that you could find in most of the mega-complexes throughout the various districts of Night City, this one located in Watson. Though they no longer called the district home, it was still where Adrian found most of his work, with one of his regular contacts being the lead fixer of that district, that being Regina Jones, some ex-media who’d actually been somewhat famous before she’d gone into the fixer business.

Maya looked at her brother, oddly at ease in the fluorescent light of the mega-complex, a cigarette hanging from his lips. A vice that he’d never had before. He wasn’t quite an addict, but considering the fact that their apartment smelled like synth-nicotine half the time, she wasn’t sure there was much of a difference anymore. His scar was visible from this angle. He hadn’t made any attempt to hide the marks of that night ever since he’d gotten his cyberarm and artificial eye. She was glad that he’d found his own manner of peace with what had happened, or at least appeared to, but looking directly at him could be… intimidating. What he’d done at her school hours ago proved that fact.

“Why are we here?” she asked. They had been waiting for almost five minutes, letting the strange not-quite-silence of the city wash over them. Adrian looked at her, his crosshair eye sending a shiver through her that she barely managed to contain. That eye was especially creepy, even if she had grown used to it.

He leaned forward, bringing his hands around and leaning his elbows on his knees. He blew out a long puff of smoke, the noxious fumes of it billowing around his mouth like a mask, like a demon straight out of hell. She knew that it was just the natural consequence of a sigh, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t intimidating. Then, he answered.

“I’m keeping a promise,” he said, tone confused as he cocked his head. Suddenly, he was the same big brother that she’d known all her life, teasing and sarcastic and loving in the way that only older siblings could be. “I promised that I would teach you how to shoot properly, didn’t I?”

He had. But that promise had been made… made that night. If she were being honest with herself, Maya had already half forgotten that promise. She knew that Adrian would’ve followed through with it regardless, but given his chosen profession and her until recently near-comatose state, she’d thought he had more important things to do.

“Why?” she asked, genuinely confused.

“Because I promised you I would, and I always keep my promises,” he said with a smile. “And because I’m not always going to be around to protect you. Quite literally.”

She tilted her head at him. “But you always come back. Sure, you’re not always around, but you always come back.”

Adrian sighed. “I’m an Edgerunner, Maya. A mercenary. Someone who lives on the Edge of society, with everything to gain and everything to lose. You live there too, believe it or not. But you aren’t running the Edge. Not yet. And if you want to do what I do, in any capacity… you’ll have to learn to defend yourself. 

“But if you don’t want to run the Edge, tell me now. I’ll still teach you. I’ll still help you. But you’ll never see the depths of what this city really is. For better and for worse.”

Maya was confused by those words. The terminology was foreign to her, but his point was clear. The world he operated in was dangerous, and he was willing to guide her on her first steps. Still, why had he made the offer at all? She hadn’t made any indication of interest towards it. Hell, other than some occasionally funny stories, and the woman that he was clearly denying being attracted to, he hadn’t told her much about his life.

And yet there was an undeniable allure to it all. It was something she wanted. Something she craved. Not the fighting or the death or the backstabbing bullshit of gang politics, but the money and the fun and, more than any of that… the freedom.

A memory from months ago surfaced in the back of her mind, when she had first awoken after everything had gone wrong. When M had given Adrian a clear, definitive choice, one that would define the rest of their lives. He had tried to get her to speak to him, to help him make that choice. He’d felt, at the time, that it was a choice that they should make together. 

But it wasn’t. It had been his choice and his alone, not one shared between the two of them. Adrian had made it, and made it well, in her own opinion. Still, the thought had come to her, more than once, about what she might have chosen at the time. What she would choose now. 

“… I don’t really know what I want,” she said, looking her brother straight in the eye, voice hardening as she found strength in the words that tumbled out of her. “But all I know is that I never want to feel that helpless ever again. Not ever. So I’ll run the Edge if I have to, whatever the hell that means. As long as I’m free, and as long as I’m able, I’ll never let anyone take the people I love away from me again.”

Adrian smiled at her. it was one of satisfaction and pride and hope, but also… a bit of sadness? It was gone as soon as she’d seen it, and he stood with a slight grunt. 

“Alright then,” he said, giving her a cheeky smile that she knew all too well. “Let’s get you some proper iron, shall we?”

Proper iron, in his terms, was getting her the most basic pistol on the market: a Constitutional Arms Unity, compact and sleek and utterly ordinary. It wasn’t a bad gun, by any means, but it wasn’t a good one either. And it was entirely too drab for her tastes. All military black with no spots of color. Sure, Adrian’s guns were dark as well, but he had painted them to invoke a certain style, for them to be intimidating as a contrast to his red and black cyberarm. This… this just wasn’t her style.

“Something wrong?” Adrian asked, brow raised in question. He wasn’t asking about the style of the gun, but rather about the quality. He’d become very high-stung when it came to the maintenance of his firearms, which she supposed she could understand, but that wasn’t what Maya had been concerned about in the slightest.

“No, nothing wrong with the gun,” she said, looking down at the plain thing with disappointment. “Just kinda bland for my tastes. And pretty average overall.”

Adrian sighed. “I’m not gonna give you something like a fucking Overture for your first gun. Your arms are too spindly by half to handle the kick.”

“You say that, but yours aren’t much better,” she sassed at him, pointing out his own thin, but more muscled, arms. He had bulked out a bit in these last few months, though only a bit.

“Not the point,” Adrian replied, waving her comment off. “The Unity might only be mid-tier in terms of firearms, but it’s cheap, it’s got a good ammo capacity, and above all else: it it reliable. Reliability is something that you need in firearms, especially if you’re going to be an Edgerunner.”

She quirked a brow at the term again. It was a strange one, one that she was still unfamiliar with despite his earlier explanation. “What is an Edgerunner, anyway? You gave a basic description, but that feels… incomplete.”

Adrian brought a hand to his chin at her words, contemplating. “Well… some people would say that it’s another word for Cyberpunk. ‘High-tech lowlife.’ And they wouldn’t technically be wrong. But like I said, an Edgerunner is someone who runs on the Edge. The Edge of society. They have the most to gain and the most to lose. You probably know some of their names, if only by technicality.”

Maya wondered at those words, confusing though they were. Still, he hadn’t answered her question, not really. “But what are they?”

…

“… the people who take their lives into their own hands. For better and for worse.”

That answer, more than any of the others, felt truest to Maya, she nodded, and turned towards the range, Unity pistol in hand. “Think there’s room for Netrunners in that space?”

“Definitely,” Adrian said, shuddering as though he’d remembered something unpleasant. “But we’re not here to hone your potential netrunning skills. Not my specialty, and I don’t have any interest in the Net besides. We’re here to teach you how to shoot a gun.”

“But wouldn’t I be more useful if I was safe? I know that a lot of Netrunners operate out of lairs, so it wouldn’t be hard to set something like that up.”

“Yes, but it’d also be expensive as hell,” her brother admonished. “We might have more eddies than we used to, but Netrunning gear like what you’re thinking of isn’t something that we can come by easily. Or cheaply.”

She gave grunt of frustration; not at her brother, but at their lack of funds for such things. It wasn’t Adrian’s fault - he’d done right by her these past few months, and was continuing to do right by her now. But she couldn’t help but be frustrated. The Net was something that had always fascinated her, something that she wanted to dive into and explore. But she had heard of the dangers there too, beyond the Blackwall. About rogue AIs and fractured datascapes that could drive a runner mad, killing them in their chairs. 

And she also knew of the dangers within. Of the Voodoo Boys. Though they hadn’t always been made up of the Haitian population that had taken over Pacifica, they had always been dangerous even before their modern incarnation. And they were especially dangerous inside the Net. If ever there was an opponent in the Net that any sane runner should fear, it was them. 

And still, she wanted that path. But that wasn’t for her. Not right now. Not yet. Right now, she needed to learn to shoot. She’d seen the logic in it before, and she still did. She would be learning to defend herself, which was something that Adrian wanted for her, and something that she would need to do if she was going to survive.

That didn’t make it easy. Adrian had let her figure out the first few shots with her pistol unassisted, as though to drive home a lesson of some kind. the only lesson she learned was that shooting wasn’t nearly as easy as action movies and her own brother made it seem. The kick had given her a deal of surprise, but she’d learned to steady herself. But more alarming than the kick was the sheer noise. The bark of her pistol was loud, deafening in every way, making the edges of her hearing ring in displeasure. She didn’t like it. It tore at her concentration, each shot less accurate than the last. Only three of them had hit thus far, on the torso, shoulder, and somewhere in the general area of the thigh, but that was about it.

“I’m terrible at this,” she said, frustrated with herself. She wasn’t about to give up, and was about to keep going before Adrian took the gun from her hands. 

“Let’s make sure you have a full mag before you go firing again, yeah?” he said with a kind smile on his face. He pressed something on the side of the gun with his thumb, letting the magazine slid out and placing the empty thing on the flat table in front of them. He took another magazine and loaded it in, letting the slide latch forwards as he aimed down the sights, making sure that everything was alright.

“Should be good to go,” he said, handing the gun back to her, she took it, and this time Adrian started with the explanations. Now that he understood where she was naturally, it was easier to guide her towards what she would need to do. Or so he said. 

He had her adjust her grip on the gun itself, her dominant hand gripping it normally while her other supported it from the bottom, giving her leverage. Adrian had her pul her arms back, because locking her arms would just cause her shots to flail wildly, and bending her elbows even slightly would given her better control of the weapon. Then there was her stance. He did preface the fact that, if she was in a firefight, proper stance would probably be one of the furthest things from her mind, which was why she needed to get it down now. The default was to present a side profile, to make herself a smaller target, though she needed to fully extend one of her arms in order to do it properly. Still, she supposed that was what the supporting arm was for. 

This time, when she fired at the target, Maya actually managed to hit just over half her shots. It wasn’t a great margin of improvement, but it still brought a smile to her lips. SHe’d even managed to make most of the shots towards the same area of the target’s center mass!

“Good improvement,” Adrian said with a smile. “We’ll keep on with this for a while, but it’ll take a while before you can hit all your shots consistently. Just remember to breathe and focus. You’re already off to a great start.”

Maya turned to him with a raised brow. “Well, how many shots can you land?”

“All of them.”

He didn’t even hesitate - he just answered. Maya was a little taken aback by his sheer confidence in that statement. Like he actually could land every single shot he put his mind to. When he saw her flabbergasted expression, he just sighed and pulled out his Liberty pistol, the one that he’d modified and painted, naming it Reckoning. She knew that he still had his Malorian on him at all times, but she also knew that using a gun like that in a public range was practically begging for attention.

He pushed a few buttons on a touch screen interface on one of the partitioned spots, the model looking a little outdated. Considering that most of these mega-complexes had gone up sometime in the 2050s, she wasn’t surprised. The targets started coming down at random intervals, and Adrian started shooting.

It was like he’d become an entirely different person. Shortly after the shooting started, a coldness entered his eyes that was not physical, but psychological. Metaphorical. The light in his eyes was gone, and he was no longer her brother in the midst of his practice. He was a killer, trained and deadly and growing better by the day, and he did not miss a single shot. Not one. 

The display panel on the side of the metallic partition gave a congratulatory buzz, saying something about hitting every single target or getting some kind of high score. Maya couldn’t hear the specifics. Instead, she just stared at her brother’s back, and wondered to herself just how widely his name was known. And how widely it might one day be known. And just how much danger he might be in when that day came.

.

..

…

“… so… ‘Redhand,’ huh?”

“Fuck off, M.”

His mentor's laughter echoed through the space as they got back into the swing of their training. This was going to be a long day.

Adrian Walker’s Status:

LEVEL: 7 → 10

SREET CRED: 6 → 10

€$: 9742 → 15659

Stats and Skills:

BODY: 4

Athletics: Lvl 2 → 3

Annihilation: Lvl 1

Street Brawler: Lvl 3 → 4

REFLEX: 7 → 8

Assault: Lvl 2 → 3

Handguns: Lvl 4 → 5

Blades: Lvl 1

TECH: 6 → 7

Crafting: Lvl 3 → 5

Engineering: Lvl 2

INTELLIGENCE: 3

Breach Protocol: Lvl 1

Quickhacking: Lvl 1

COOL: 7 → 8

Ninjitsu: Lvl 3

Cold Blood: Lvl 5 → 6

Notable Cyberware:

FRONTAL CORTEX: None | None | None 

OCCULAR SYSTEM: Dead-Eye Optic

CIRCULATORY SYSTEM: None | None | None

IMMUNE SYSTEM: None | None

NERVOUS SYSTEM: None | None

INTEGUMENTARY SYSTEM: None | None | None

OPERATING SYSTEM: Dead-Eye Combat Analysis Regulation & Assistance Device [Mrk 0]

SKELETON: None | None

HANDS: None

ARMS: Military Grade Arasaka Cyberarm

LEGS: None

Chapter Text

July 25th, 2075

Night City, CA.

11:32 am PST.

4 months and 3 weeks before a certain car accident.

“For the last fucking time, Pilar, I am not going back there!” Rebecca yelled at the top of her lungs, rubbing at her forehead to stave off her hangover. “If Suzie sees me - and she will see me - she’ll shoot the both of us on the spot! Hell, I’m surprised you didn’t get banned from Lizzie’s earlier.”

“C’mon lil’ sis, help a guy out,” Pilar said, gesticulating wildly with his extended chrome fingers. 

“Don’t you ‘lil’ sis’ me, gonkhead,” Rebecca snapped back. “If you got banned, it was your own damned fault! Susie Q is a paranoid, stuck-up bitch, but most of the Mox are actually decent people. You probably did something stupid like harass one of the girls. You know they have a no touch policy - they’ve been a damn BD club for almost a decade for fuck’s sake.”

Pilar looked legitimately offended at the accusation. She wasn’t wrong about the fact that he was a massive lech and an unrepentant perv, but she also knew that he was honest to a goddamn fault, because he never shut the hell up when he maybe should. It was probably going to get him killed someday. 

He wore nothing but a leather vest with a high collar that barely came down to his midriff, the rest of his rather gangly body exposed to the world. His skin was pale, but not the same shade as hers. He’d never gotten dermal implants after all. It’d have been pretty odd if he had. His arms were long and gangly; cyberware implants covered in realskin. He had dark, long pants and simple shoes on, complimenting his naturally light skin tone, but the most notable thing about him, other than his hands, was the replacement for his eyes. Her brother had gotten a monovisor implant decades ago, back when he’d still been in his twenties and she had barely been nine, and the red line in the thing was unmistakable. Hell, that kind of implant was so rare outside of replacements for particular eye diseases that the only other people who used that kind of implant were the rare instances of the saner members of Maelstrom. His dark hair had been done up in a faux-hawk ever since she could remember, though the beard along his too sharp chin was a more recent addition to his ensemble. 

“That’s just it though - I wasn’t there that night! I remember every single visit I ever made to Lizzie’s, swear to god!” Pilar said - which caused Rebecca to raise her brow even through the pain of her hangover. Pilar had no filter of any kind, which meant that you could always count on him to speak his mind and speak what he understood to be the truth. That also meant that he was his best and worst possible self to everyone and anyone, and it leaned towards the latter far more often than the former. “C’mon, sis, you’ve gotta believe me!”

“Then where the hell were you last week?” she asked with a groan as her hangover flared with pain. “I was out with a friend, and I know for a fact that you went out that night too. Not exactly a mark in your favor, since I know where you tend to go.”

“Are you talking about that choomba of yours with the cyberarm that you’re in denial about wanting to fuck-?”

She threw an empty beer can across the room with remarkable precision, hitting the digits of one of his metal hands and causing him to yelp out in pain. “Not the point, gonkbrain! Where the hell were you?”

“I was out with Maine and Falco!” he said, waving his arms in front of himself to discourage any other improvised projectiles. “We were having a guys night!”

“… a guys night?”

“Yeah!”

“One that didn’t involve a strip club?”

“I mean, I tried to make my case, but Maine put his foot down and we went to an arcade instead. Ended up being a lot more fun than I thought it would be. I think he legit loves Dorio. They certainly act like it with all the PDA they do in full view of everyone.”

“Took you long enough to realize, ya gonk,” Rebecca muttered under her breath. Those two had been going steady long before Rebecca had met either of them, and Sasha had been like a surrogate daughter to the two of them when she’d been alive. Her death had never been an easy thing to come to terms with, but Maine had taken it especially hard. He’d loved that girl like she really had been his daughter. Dorio hadn’t been much better, and the two were inconsolable for weeks afterward. If they hadn’t had each other, to help get through the pain of that loss, then she honestly doubted the two of them would still be doing merc work. 

Suffice to say that, if there were ever a romantic pair that she believed could last through even the worst of what Night City had to offer, it would be those two. 

“You give ‘em your alibi?”

“Yeah, and I’d have the guys corroborate it too, but Falco’s busy doing something or other and Maine took the week off so that he and Dorio could fuck each other’s brains out undisturbed! I’d call him anyway, but I’m way too fucking scared of that guy to disturb him like that right now!”

That tracked, for them. Still, Rebecca wasn’t exactly in a position to help. “That doesn’t change the fact that I’ve still got a lifetime ban from Lizzie’s after the fight with Susie Q. And I’m already hungover as shit. Not gonna be a lot of help to you either way.”

“Fine then!” Pilar said, marching to their front door. “If you’re not gonna help me, I’ll find the fucker myself! I’m not missing a new BD debut because some dumb fuck that looks like me decided to get handsy in the middle of Lizzie’s!”

“That’s what this is about?! Are you fucking kidding me?!”

But before her objections to this rather ridiculous course of action could so much as register in his hearing, Pilar was out the door with an almost cartoonishly angry gait to his steps.

“God fucking damnit,” she groaned, clutching at her forehead as yet another pang of pain came to rock her off her feet. She definitely didn’t have a lot of people to contact, especially right now. Lucy barely tolerated Pilar at the best of times, and probably wouldn’t bat an eye if he got himself killed in a situation like this. Kiwi was similar to her apprentice, though she did find him entertaining during their post-job celebrations. Maine and Dorio were no-goes for reasons that Pilar had already given, and Falco was doing whatever it was he did when they didn’t need him for a job. She would’ve gone herself, but even if she was a great shot, her hangover wasn’t going to help her aim by any means. 

“I should call him…”

“And where’s he going now?” Adrian asked a few minutes later, having just finished up another job for Regina, redirecting his Hella in the general direction Rebecca was pointing him in. “Also, you still haven’t told me what the hell he’s trying to do.”

“It’d take a bit to explain it all,” Rebecca said, her tone sounding almost sick. She was hungover. Again. Adrian had felt the mild effects of alcohol consumption that morning, but unlike his shorter, lighter friend, he had remembered to pace himself. 

“It’s not like I don’t have time,” he said, taking another turn and heading down a street that took him deeper into Watson. “Give me the gist, at least?”

“Urgh, it’s really fucking stupid,” she groaned, this time more out of frustration than pain. “Guy’s headed up to Northside to track someone down. He’s pissed that he got falsely banned from Lizzie’s because there’s a new BD debut that’s happening tonight. He wanted to reserve a space, got waved off by Rita.”

“Rita?”

“Rita fuckin’ Wheeler,” she answered with a touch of fondness to her voice. “Head Bouncer for Lizzie’s. She’s basically the leader of the muscle for the Mox. Only answers to Queen Bitch Susie Q.”

“Takes her job seriously?”

“Yup. She’s an alright sort, but she takes her job dead seriously. You want details on why Pilar got banned, you should ask her. And tell I said hi. Honestly, this whole thing kinda stinks. Rita’s not the type to mistake faces, even if they do have similar chrome. Just not her style. She may have been out that night, though - it’s not an impossibility.”

“Think this might be a bit personal then?”

“Maybe. Susie and I didn’t leave off on the best of terms, as you’ll recall. But she wouldn’t make this incident up out of thin air, either. Someone who looks similar enough to Pilar likely came in and did something stupid enough to warrant getting banned, and decided to ban Pilar too in order to make my life more difficult.”

“You’re sure she’s that much of a petty bitch?”

“Choom, I smashed her fucking arm into pulp last time I was at Lizzie’s. Of course she’s going to be a petty bitch to me as much as she can. Also, it’s not like Pilar wasn’t already a bit of a known horndog. Not the biggest leap in logic to make, y’know?”

“I guess. And you’re sure he’s not lying?”

“Adrian, my big brother is several uncouth things that most people would flinch away at. One thing he most certainly isn’t is a liar. Even if he could stand to have a filter over his… everything.”

Adrian gave a noise of agreement over the call. “Alright. What’s in it for me?”

“I can give you edds, if that’s what you want. I was already prepared to give you, like, two thousand just for putting up with my dumbass brother.”

“C’mon, Becca. I thought we agreed to no eddies during favors between friends.”

“That’s true, we did,” Rebecca said, noise of her mind grinding it’s gears almost physical before she responded again. “I’ll let you fuck my ass. Never done it before, but I’m open to new things.”

Adrian gave a chortle at that. It was a joke, on her part. She’d told him multiple times that she didn’t do sexual stuff in exchange for favors. Something about some over-obsessed guy who’d gotten the wrong idea. “Uh huh. And what’re you actually offering?”

“… I’ll pay for drinks at The Garden of Choice for the next three nights.”

“Nova! It’s a deal then!”

“Preem. Fuck, I hope this is worth it; my tab is long enough as it is…”

“Don’t worry,” Adrian said as he pulled into the parking lot of Lizzie’s. “I’ll make sure your brother doesn’t get himself killed. I make no promises for potential maiming or injury, though. I can only save him from so much of his own stupidity.”

“Just keep that dumb bastard alive. No one’s allowed to kill him but me! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am in desperate need of water and a toilet.”

The call cut off, and Adrian inspected where he was with a quick once-over. He’d seen Lizzie’s on the news a few times, the most vivid memory of the place being from back during the riots that the bar’s namesake had inspired, but it had changed a lot over the years. The building itself was multiple stories in a brutalist style of architecture, all hard angles and square corners. The neon sign in that deliberate writing blazed blue on the building’s face, spelling out LIZZE’S in big, capital letters. There was a neon caricature of a Mox near it in blinding pink, kicking her leg up and down in a sultry way, a heart-shaped tattoo on her thigh and an axe raised above her head. 

“Definitely Mox territory,” he muttered to himself, getting out of his car and stretching his hands above his head. The job for Regina hadn’t been hard, but it had been time consuming. It had taken almost three hours. He’d needed to wake up at six sharp to make it on time - and he’d had drinks with Rebecca the night before! It hadn’t been great, but he’d made it, and gotten the job done with enough time to relax. At least a little. He’d gotten to finish his burrito before Becca had called him. And really, he wasn’t sure he could’ve asked for more than that. 

The bar was closed for the moment, since most of their clientele wasn’t going to show up until the late afternoon at the earliest. There were a few bouncers outside on the curb, some smoking while others just stared up into the sky. One of them saw him approach, with neon purple hair done up in a pair of buns. She stood from her spot on the curb and approached, cutting a rather striking figure as she came towards him.

She was Asian, though he couldn’t speak to any specific ethnicity, with dark eyes and pale skin that had a strange sheen too it that reminded him of some kind of plastic. She was quite pretty, with a line of cyberware crossing her face, her full lips painted a slightly darker purple than her hair. Both her arms were fully cybernetic, with blue panels across her forearms that were covered in evenly placed spikes, her biceps colored a mix of black and purple, as were her hands. She wore tight, tight pants that hugged every inch of leg, thigh and hip, the color starting black and fading into purple towards her ankles, her purple heels practically fading into the clothing. Her top was sleeveless, white, and extremely loose, exposing most of her chest, unsupported cleavage and MOXES tattoo on full display, the hem of the thing not even covering her stomach. As it stood, she was one of the sexiest and most dangerous women he had never seen.

I think I might have a type, Adrian thought to himself as he cleared his throat, taking his mind off of the fact that the woman in front of him was extremely attractive and back on what he had come here to do in the first place. Also, the fact that she had a bat slung over one shoulder and held it with a familiarity of years. Surprisingly, that wasn’t a turn off. Probably because of who he was interested in in general.

I definitely have a type, he admitted to himself as he spoke. “Looking for a Rita Wheeler?”

“Speaking,” the woman answered, her stance shifting slightly as she gave him a once over. “I don’t do that kind of work anymore.”

“Not here for anything like that,” Adrian said, waving it off. “I’m here about someone you banned. Pilar?”

“Yeah, why? You know him?” Rita asked with a raised brow.

“No, but I do know his sister. Rebecca sent me. She also says hi.”

A grin broke out across her face, the bat leaving her shoulders as she gestured towards the door. “Well fuck me gently with a chainsaw - Becca the Beast finally sent word back! Damn. It’s been years since I’ve seen her. How is she?”

“Pretty well,” Adrian answered. “Does a lot of merc work these days. In a crew and everything.”

“That so? I heard a few things around the block, but nothing concrete. So, what can I do you for, Redhand?”

Adrian flinched at the comment. “You know that name too, huh?”

“Word gets around, kid,” Rita replied with a smile. “You are a kid, right? Or just barely an adult.”

“Goin’ on nineteen in a couple of days, actually,” Adrian admitted. At this point, he figured that his growing reputation for competency in combination with his relatively young age would set up a certain image in the eyes of the mercenary world of Night City. 

“Damn. Even younger than I thought,” Rita said, gesturing at the right side of her face with her hand. “Scar makes you look older.”

“So I’ve been told,” Adrian said with a shrug. “Still, Becca told me to come ask for some more info on what happened. According to her, Pilar is a dumbass and a horndog, but he’s honest.”

“Hmm… well, I wasn’t on duty that night, so can’t say anything firsthand,” Rita said with a shrug. “But I also haven’t seen the raw security footage yet, so there might be some answers in there. You wanna see?”

“If you’re offering,” Adrian obliged. “As long as you won’t get in trouble.”

Rita gave a chuckle at that, the sway of her hips distracting him for a brief moment as she led the way inside Lizzie’s. “Choom, even if Susie wanted to get rid of me, I’m the best damn fighter in the Mox ever since Becca left us. I’ll get a slap on the wrist at worst. Besides, it’s not like we’re doing any actual damage, right? Looking at footage won’t raise any eyebrows.”

“The fact that you’re taking me back there might, though,” Adrian pointed out, following her through the bead curtain that covered the threshold to the lobby. 

“Not if I say it’s for a gig,” Rita said with a suggestive wink, walking backwards through the other bead curtain threshold as the young merc followed her. Adrian’s heart damn near stopped. Fucking hell. She might not be a working girl anymore, but she’d certainly lost none of the charm that profession required. “What’s she paying you?”

“Three nights of free drinks at our regular bar.”

“For real? Fuck, she must really like you,” Rita said with a low whistle. “Becca barely ever paid for drinks back when we were drinking buddies.”

“That so?” Adrian asked as they stepped out onto Lizzie’s main floor. The daytime lights were on, and the floors were clean enough to eat off of. Or at least looked the part. It was strange to see a night club in the daytime, mostly because it gave off an entirely different atmosphere. 

As thoughts turned to the spirited woman, another thought came to mind. “Why’s she called ‘Becca the Beast’ anyway? That some nickname? She’s never brought it up, and I haven’t heard it around before.”

“Oh, that,” Rita said as they went through the doors to the dressing room, which would lead them further into the building and closer to their surveillance room. “Well, when Rebecca was first promoted to bouncer, people were kinda skeptical. I was too, but I wanted to give her a fair shot, so I put her on watch with a pretty tame line. Then some cocked up jackass thought he was special and tried to skip the line. After that…”

Rita chuckled darkly as they continued on. “She tore into him. Started with one of our bats and just kept going. When the bat broke on his dermal plating, she switched to using her bare hands. She was just as vicious with those as she was with the bat - more so, I think. She was like a damn wild animal. 

“And thus, Becca the Beast was born. Of course, Susie Q refuses to call her anything but ‘Becca the Bitch’ these days, but only to herself. She knows damn well how their fight ended.”

“Wait, Rebecca really crushed one of her arms?” Adrian asked, wanting to get confirmation for that story she’d told him. 

“You fucking bet she did,” Rita replied with a grin. “Had it coming too, trying to fight her to make her stay. That’s like offering yourself to a lion on a silver platter. Beasts know no mercy when food is put in front of them. She did tear up half the place, though. Had to replace a lot of the lounges…”

Rita shook herself from those thoughts as she turned to the monitors. “Well, here it is. Basic setup, but we haven’t really had a whole lot of spare edds to upgrade it. Spent a lot of stuff on some new renovations in the back.”

“Renovations?” Adrian asked. 

“Susie wants to expand into… the doll business,” Rita said, a shiver of discomfort running it’s way up her spine. 

That reaction was entirely understandable, as far as Adrian was concerned. Dolls were basically a certain kind of prostitute, the kind that could cater to a client’s deepest desires due to a complex and expensive Shard called a Doll Chip. They left the ‘doll’ in question with no memory of the experience whatsoever, which was both a relief, and a bit of a dissociative nightmare. The experiences were, from what he’d gathered, as intensely immersive as they were outrageously expensive. The highest grossing dollhouse, as such places were called, was called Clouds. It was also a front for the Tyger Claws’ sex trafficking. It was easy to move people around when you could make them forget who they were with the push of a button.

“You told her what a bad idea that might turn out to be? The mental problems alone… it could turn out for the worse,” he stated, knowing that Rita probably knew as many of the horror stories surrounding the workers at Clouds as Rebecca had told him. Hell, she probably knew a lot more of them, considering she was a bouncer for the Mox.

“I did,” Rita said. “She’s insisted that we’d use the tech humanely and responsibly, but I don’t know if there is a way to use that kind of tech humanely and responsibly. Not in the long term. Not in this business.”

She turned back to the screens in front of her. “Back to Pilar. Should still be in here… cameras usually record before we purge everything after about a month. Still, feels weird to me. Don’t get me wrong; the guy’s a perv through and through, but he knows the rules and he follows them while he’s in here.”

Rita eventually found what she was looking for, and started the playback. There was no sound - apparently these things didn’t have microphones, but Adrian saw the person they were looking for almost right away. He had to admit that, from a distance, it did look distinctly like Rebecca’s description of Pilar Black faux-hawk and beard, similar leather vest and dark pants, plated hands, and with that signature red monovisor that reminded Adrian rather uncomfortably of Malestrom, despite the fact that their primary ocular implants involved a lot more receivers. But still…

“This guy is shorter than Pilar by at least a whole foot,” Adrian said. At a distance, you could mistake the two, but not with an angle like this. Pilar was fucking tall. And that wasn’t the only thing wrong with the picture that Susie Q was apparently trying to paint, in character though it seemed. “His arms are also normal length, and his hands are both normal. Pilar’s arms are both cybernetically extended, his hands are bigger and his fingers have a lot of extra joints. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if Susie personally told people to keep quiet about the finer details of what happened.”

Rita gave a curse under her breath. “Well, fuck. This happened a bit ago, and those aren’t the kinds of implants you can just replace all at once. He probably still has at least a few of them still in him.”

Adrian nodded. “Guess I’m going to Northside, then.”

“It’s strange,” Rita noted. “I know that most people Pilar meets end up wanting to punch him in the face, but that’s about it. This is… who the hell would do something so convoluted to the guy?”

“I have no goddamn idea. That’s what I’m going to find out.”

Adrian had thought that it would take him a lot longer to find Pilar. He’d had this image in his head of himself as some hard drinking, chain smoking detective type that could read the full details of a grizzly massacre scene in less than three minutes. He’d track his target, in this case a man so recognizable you’d have to be blind and deaf to not recognize him, to wherever he was, and find him in the midst of either doing something stupid, perving out over some woman, or killing somebody in a back alley.

He hadn’t expected to pull up to a firefight.

“C’mon, Eddie! What the fuck’s this about, choom?!” Pilar yelled from behind cover, one hand holding a Copperhead while the other fingered at a Lexington. “I thought we were pals!”

“That was before you fucked my girlfriend, you sick son of a bitch!” a Maelstrom member yelled at him, a pack of six others firing on the gangly man’s position with a variety of firearms. He had a monovisor in place of Malestrom’s regular ocular cyberware, and overall looked like Pilar if Pilar had regular proportions instead of whatever the hell was up with his long ass arms and abnormal height.

“Hey, leave my mother out of this! Besides, I didn’t know she was taken at the time!” he yelled back. “Wouldn’t taken her up on anything if I had! And she came on to me!”

“Six years, you animal! Six fucking years, we’d been together and happy!” Eddie yelled out, his next words punctuated by individual shots from a precision rifle. “SIX! FUCKING! YEARS!”

This was obviously a somewhat complicated situation. Adrian could see that much even from here. He wasn’t sure who Pilar had fucked, or why, but considering the fact that the guy he was shooting at was Maelstrom, he could make a few guesses. The phrase ‘never stick your dick in crazy’ had never been so applicable. 

Of course, this was all separate from the fact that Pilar really needed help, and he was going to provide it. He wanted those nights of free drinks, damnit! Tyler stocked good shit. 

Adrian got out of his car, making sure to lock it as the sound of gunfire continued unabated. Pilar was hunkered down behind a block of cement, which wasn’t entirely surprising, considering the fact that the warehouse they were in front of was only half built. He opened his trunk, whistling a little tune to himself as he started pulling out Adversity, loading the gun as Pilar made some more noises of distress. He was in no rush. He’d save the guy’s life, but like he’d told Becca, no promises about injury or potential maiming. 

The gunfire reached a crescendo, practically drowning out Adrian’s jaunty tune, when suddenly, the sound of clicks came from all of their guns. Then he slammed his trunk down, aimed Adversity at the nearest Maelstrom member, and opened fire. 

The bullet tore through the first guy’s head like wet paper, and a second shot tore through the chest of the woman before he had so much as hit the ground. Before long, three of the six Maelstrom people were already down for the count before anyone realized that a third party was on the scene.

“Mind your own business, fucker!” Eddie called out, aiming his precision rifle over his portion of cover, trying to blind fire at him and get a lucky shot in. Unfortunately for him, Cold Blood kicked in at that moment, and shooting the weapon out of his hand was child’s play.

“No, I think I’ll barge in,” Adrian said, firing at the other two gangers to keep them in cover. “Got a special request and everything.”

“From who?! The fucking council of degenerates?!”

“I doubt such a thing exists!” Adrian called out, taking cover behind a piece of gigantic metal pipe as one of the remaining Maelstrom gangers shot at him with an SMG of Arasaka make. The spray of bullets against the thick metal of his chosen cover was unpleasant, to say the least.

“It doesn’t!” Pilar said, sliding into cover with him with a wide smile on his face. “Pretty sure I’d know about it if it did!

“Seriously though, I appreciate the backup, but who sent you?” Pilar said, answering that one ganger’s hail of gunfire with a spray of his own from the Copperhead. “None of my crew knows I’m here!”

“No, but Rebecca does.”

“… wait, you’re-”

“Her drinking buddy, yeah,” he answered, pulling out Reckoning as he held Adversity in his off hand, He lined up a shot and fired in half a second. Another of Maelstrom gangers was dead. “I’m Adrian. Nice to meetcha. You’re a real headache for your sister, you know that?”

“I know, I just don’t particularly care!” Pilar answered back, using his Lexington to fire at the last of Eddie’s hanger-ons. After what must have been half the goddamn mag, she went down. “Still, I guess I should thank her for sending you and everything, so I’ll cool it with the annoying shit at least!”

“That means no XBDs, got it?” Adrian said, walking out from behind the massive metal pipe with his guns in hand, slinging Adversity over his shoulder as he approached Eddie’s position. The ice faded from his veins after the third step, and Pilar followed after him.

“How the fuck-”

“Dude, we tell each other stupid stories until two AM every few nights. The fuck do you think we talk about?”

“I dunno, sex shit? I dunno what my sister’s into!”

“Not everyone’s obsessed with sex like you are, ya horndog.”

“… touché.”

Adrian and Pilar came up to where Eddie had been hiding, the man lunging forward with a knife, hoping to strike one of them through blind luck. Instead, Adrian kicked the blade out of the guy’s hand, and Pilar put his foot to the man’s back. He toppled to the ground, Pilar holding him at gunpoint as he started asking questions. In his own way, of course. 

“Who the hell is your output, anyway?! You never told me, so this is partially your own fault, asshole!”

“Georgia!” he yelled, more out of anger than fear! “The most beautiful woman I’ve ever met! Metal over meat, a true thing of beauty!”

“Georgia?!” Pilar exclaimed, as though in surprise. “Fucking hell man, it’s been a month! You’ve been planning this petty shit for a month?!”

“I only found out about it a week ago!” Eddie exclaimed. “She said she got drunk and slept with some guy! Talked about you! I could let what happened on her end go - she wasn’t in her right mind, but-”

“Listen here fucker, I am many awful things, but I don’t take advantage of people like that!” Pilar yelled over Eddie’s ranting, and Adrian just stood there, witness to this strange madness he’d found himself in. “When I fuck people, it’s always consensual! Jesus fuck, I thought you knew me better than that!”

“I have no context for this situation, and I’m not sure I want it,” Adrian said. “I’m gonna knock him out, alright? Then we’ll bring him over to Lizzie’s and get that ban lifted. Sound good?”

“Sounds fuckin’ preem, choom!” Pilar said with a grin that was clearly happy but also downright wolfish.

“Alright. Do you, uh, mind stepping off his back for a second? I don’t want to break his neck from the whiplash.”

Pilar quickly did as he asked. 

“… whiplash-?”

Before he could do anything but express his barest confusion, Adrian’s booted foot came into contact with the side of his head. Eddie was knocked out cold with no more fuss. 

“Damn. I’ll remember not to piss you off,” Pilar said, poking at the guy’s face. “You sure you didn’t break anything in here? That kick was a preem shot, but we gotta bring him back alive if I wanna get unbanned.”

“He’s alive,” Adrian said.

“How can you tell? You didn’t even check!”

“You’d be surprised just how much trauma someone’s skull can go through when it doesn’t involve a bullet or a hammer,” he answered. “Also, his breathing pattern is still normal, and I kicked him in a place where the bone of the skull is particularly thick. Also helps that he’s got metal plates there like most Maelstrom gangers. Fucking chrome junkie.”

Pilar didn’t object, taking the man’s bulk in his arms as they went over to Adrian’s Hella. They stuffed him in the trunk with some tight fitting, and Adrian threw his Achilles rifle in the backseat before he got in the driver’s seat and started it up. “C’mon. It’ll be faster if I take you back there with me.”

Pilar obliged, shuffling into his car with some difficulty. Like Rebecca had described, the guy was fucking tall, probably a foot taller than Adrian at the very least. And apparently their crew’s boss, Maine, was even taller, and with a shit ton more muscle and cyberware to boot. Guy still looked cramped in his passenger seat, and pushed teh seat all the way back just to get a relatively normal amount of leg room. 

“So…” Adrian began, switching the radio to one of the local rock stations, turning the volume down to a background noise. “How the hell did this all start, anyway? Something about you sleeping with his girlfriend? That’s just about all the context I heard before I got involved.”

Pilar gave a loud sigh. “Fucking shit, where do I begin, choom? So, I was out at this club, right? Awesome place! Cool music, great drinks, a bunch of strippers on poles - good shit! I was on the dance floor and this pretty number and I start hitting it off really fucking well. Like, seriously, she was all up in my space and grinding on me during some of the more energetic bits, so I responded in kind. Stuff escalated from there and we ended up fucking a few times in the club’s bathroom.”

Adrian just nodded despite his own discomfort. Rebecca was right. Her brother had no filter whatsoever. 

“Then we went to a hotel and fucked some more. I legit got no sleep that night - best lay I’ve ever had to this day! Didn’t really think too much on the name and the holo ID she gave me, I just went along with it! Then a few weeks later, all this shit happens. I didn’t know she was with another guy at the time, but it’s not like I really thought to ask before we were already fucking, so that’s on me I guess. I think you know the rest already. Suffice it to say, I think we can both agree that I’m largely the victim in all of this.”

.

..

…

“… what’s with the look, choom?”

Adrian gave a long, weary sigh, turning his disbelieving gaze away from Pilar as he tried to reorient himself. Gathering his thoughts, he looked back at him and spoke. “You did so many things wrong in that situation. First of all, you let yourself think with your dick and nothing else. There’s being horny, and then there’s whatever the fuck you’ve got going on, choom. Second, the fact that it didn’t occur to you to even ask if she was taken is somewhat understandable, but you should’ve at least asked it the next day so that you could know whether or not you’d fucked up. Third… you stuck your dick in crazy, my guy. I’m pretty sure one of the only concrete rules of dating for guys is ‘never stick your dick in crazy.’ It only ends in disaster, like it almost did today.”

At least, that was M’s general thoughts on it all. It wasn’t like he was speaking from personal experience. His mom had never dated after dad died, and Maya still hadn’t managed to find herself a steady girlfriend. 

“But she was so good in the sack, man!” Pilar exclaimed. “Like, holy shit, I think I might just call her up again after this!”

“Choom, that’s what got you into this situation in the first place,” Adrian replied with a sigh. “Are you a complete gonk or what?”

“Hey, she came on to me! And I haven’t gotten any since then!”

“Choom, didn’t you just go through a whole thing of saying you wouldn’t have slept with her if you’d known she was taken?”

“I wasn’t lying! But Eddie just tried to kill me, so his happiness can go jump off a fuckin’ bridge for all I care!”

Adrian pulled into a parking space at Lizzie’s, where Rita was clearly waiting for them. She doffed a cigarette from her mouth and crushed it under her heeled shoe, causing Adrian to remind himself that he was here on business, not to ogle the sexy woman who could most definitely kick his ass. 

Pilar had clearly noticed, wiggling his eyebrows up and down suggestively. “You like them sexy fightin’ types, dontcha?”

Adrian just sighed. “Help me get this asshole out of the trunk so we can get this over with, alright?”

“Choom, you didn’t answer-”

“Yes, I think she’s hot. I think she’s really, really hot,” Adrian answered, Pilar’s sheer bluntness coaxing the answer from him. “That doesn’t change the fact that I want that Maelstrom asshole out of my trunk as soon as possible.” 

Pilar just raised his hands to indicate his surrender. But just as he was about to leave the car, Adrian put his metal hand on the guy’s shoulder.

“Oh, and if you mention what I just said to Rita at all, I’m gonna punch you so hard you’ll go into a coma. Got it?”

“Crystal choom, damn,” Pilar said. “I’ll keep my peace.”

Adrian gave him a slight smile at that. “Thanks for understanding. Now c’mon, I don’t want that asshole’s blood anywhere in my car.”

The two got out and removed Eddie from the trunk. Rita raised a brow, as though she was wondering if those two were actually doing something like that in full view of her, but quickly got past that when she saw the guy. 

“Damn, the fuck did he do?” she asked, cocking her hip and unconsciously placing her hand on it. Adrian resisted the urge to shake his head as he turned away and tried to hold back a blush. Fucking hell, he really did have a type, didn’t he?

“Impersonated our unfiltered friend over here and apparently expected no consequences,” Adrian said, deflecting the conversation over to the gangly man who was holding Eddie’s legs. He dropped the appendages to the ground with the slight sound of impact, the unconscious man not even noticing the motion as Pilar cared on with the conversation. 

“You see, this guy and I were chooms a few months back, but, uh…”

He then explained, badly, exactly how he’d gotten into this mess to begin with when he’d slept with Georgia, and Rita seemed to be holding back from laughter the entire time. Adrian had to admit, as Pilar was retelling it, the whole situation was rather stupidly hilarious. 

“Gotta ask one thing though…” Rita said, her tone serious as she leaned forward. Adrian had to actively keep his eyes trained on her face so that he didn’t end up blatantly staring down her sizable cleavage. “Was she good in bed?”

“The motherfucking best, girl!” Pilar exclaimed. Rita just smiled as she leaned back, and Adrian simply sighed. He had to admit, the guy was plenty entertaining. “Man, I didn’t think that sex could get any better, but holy fuck she took the cake! I really wanna call her again…”

“That’s assuming she’ll do that at all, since it seems like we’re either gonna break of kill her boyfriend,” Adrian said. “Speaking of which, we need him awake to confirm his fraud. Could you grab a Bounce Back or an AirHypo from my trunk?”

“Sure, gimme a sec,” Pilar said as he idled over to the still open trunk of Adrian’s Hella. 

“Are we not gonna acknowledge the fact that he slept with another guy’s girlfriend? Because that’s a pretty shitty thing to do.”

“Who the fuck cares? Guy’s in Maelstrom. Plus, I heard through the grapevine that he and Georgia broke up about a week before everything happened,” Rita replied. 

“Seriously?!” Pilar replied, tossing Adrian an AirHypo as he pumped his fist in the air. “Fuckin’ Nova! I got the moral high ground! Suck it Eddie, you sad sack o’ shit!”

“There’s a first time for everything, I suppose,” Rita sassed with a smirk, causing Pilar to turn a none too polite glare on her. 

“Whatever, crop top,” Pilar said. 

“This is a torn up tank top, not a crop top,” Rita said, her tone turning sharp and a little cold. “Wearing one of those would go against my whole aesthetic!”

“Considering how little fabric is there, it might as well be a crop top,” Pilar said with a shrug.

“Can we get back to waking this dumbass up?” Adrian asked. They were getting off topic rather fast. 

That was when a familiar looking Thorton pulled into the parking lot of Lizzie’s, a certain short stack driver stretching briefly before turning off the engine and stepping out with a somewhat dramatic impact of shoe on pavement. 

“Jesus fuck, what’s with all the damn interruptions,” Adrian muttered to himself as he waved to his friend, trying desperately not to focus on her perfect thighs. Fucking hell, this was starting to become a problem. Was he pent up? “Hey there Becca! Just in time for a confession.”

“Nova! Got here just in time!” she replied with a smile, which quickly morphed into a grimace as she rubbed the heel of her hand into her temple. “Shit, that fuckin’ hurts… sorry, still kinda hungover from last night.”

“Still don’t know how to pace yourself, huh?” Rita asked with a smile of familiarity gracing her face. 

“I’ll drink as much as I fuckin’ please, Rita,” Rebecca replied, her tone bright despite the content of her words. 

“Well, alcohol aside, it’s nice to see you again,” Rita said with a smile. “Still, you sure you want to be here? Susie’s not in yet, but she could be here any moment.”

“Please, I’m gonna bend the rules of my ban as much as I fucking can, especially after this disaster,” Rebecca said with an impish grin. “As you can clearly see, I’m not ever touching the curb of the sidewalk. Therefore, no rule breaking.”

“You know that’s just gonna tempt her to smack you across the head, right?” Rita asked with a raised brow.

“Let Queen Bitch try her best. I’ll smash her other arm into pulp!”

“… okay, I’m gonna wake this dumbass up now,” Adrian said, injecting the AirHypo right into Eddie’s chest.

The jerked forwards with a sudden gasp, trying to escape from Adrian’s hold. That proved fruitless a moment later as the young merc pulled him back into a headlock, leaving him with just enough room to breathe properly. 

“Hey fucker! Remember me?” Adrian asked. “Looks like you’ve got some explaining to do! Now start talking!”

It took some cajoling, but eventually, he did start to spill the beans. He talked about his anger, the augmentations, the petty revenge directed at Pilar for the perceived slight of sleeping with his ex, with whom he’d had a rough and not at all amiable breakup, his made up story about her confession about what had happened to convince himself he was in the right, and the subsequent ambush and shootout with Pilar that Adrian had interrupted.

“Yeah, that’ll be enough for me,” Rita said, putting her bat over her shoulder with implied relaxation. “Should be more than enough for Susie, too. She might be petty, but she’s not an idiot; she’ll see which way the wind is blowing.”

“I really hope so,” Pilar said. “Queen Bitch is no gonk, but she’s got her nickname for a pretty fuckin’ good reason.”

“Don’t worry big guy, I’ll do my best to make things smooth for ya,” the bouncer soothed with a kind smile.

“So, the fuck are you gonna do with this gonkbrain?” Rebecca said, tapping at the now limp man in Adrian’s grasp. “Not like you can store him or just give him back to Maelstrom.”

“I’m honestly fine either way,” Adrian said. He tended to have an ‘on sight’ policy regarding Maelstrom, but given his increasing reputation for potential non-lethality, he’d been trying to make it a point to spare everyone outside of his ‘on sight’ list as much as possible. There was a reason that he hadn’t gone full murder hobo on the Valentinos, primarily because they could be reasoned with. Actually, now that he thought about it, he had to wonder just how Gustavo was doing? It had been a while.

“Then I guess we could… break his bones and ship him back?” Rebecca wondered aloud. “Or maybe we should take out his optics or something? There are so many ideas I can barely keep ahold of one of them!”

“Oh god, no! Please, someone get me away from the crazy loli! She’s gonna kill me!!!”

.

..

…

Adrian let go of Eddie’s headlock and stepped back, the motion so sudden and unexpected that he didn’t immediately start running for the hills. Rita and Pilar stepped back too, their faces turning from bemused to genuine concern and a little bit of terror.

Rebecca seemed to suddenly have an aura about her. Not a true one, like one of the ones that Misty claimed to be able to read with the assistance of a certain kind of chair in her shop, but one that still practically flowed off of her in waves, practically sizzling red despite the fact that Adrian knew it wasn’t real. 

“Did I fucking hear you correctly?” she asked, voice strangely monotone as she went on. “Did you just have the fucking audacity to refer to me with that term?”

“… what term? You mean loli-?”

Before Eddie could finish that sentence, Rebecca immediately pounced on him and started pummeling the shit out of his face with her hands. As Adrian saw the way she fought, he could understand why she’d picked up the nickname ‘Becca the Beast.’ She certainly fought like a wild animal, that was for damn sure. And the whole time she beat the living shit out of Eddie, she monologued.

“You know, I’ve been called a lot of unkind things in my time. Bitch, tramp, tease, slut; you name it, I’m pretty damn sure I’ve heard it! I’ve even been called a whore, on accident and on purpose! I don’t really mind that one - it wasn’t exactly inaccurate! I’ve been catcalled, groped, touched and pinched in every uncomfortable way that a woman can be in the service industry! I’ve danced for tips, starred in porno BDs, and been dirty talked by people while I either sucked them off or ate them out! I have done a lot of nasty shit and been called a lot of really nasty stuff!

“But nobody…!”

BAM!

“Calls me…!”

BAM!

“A fucking loli…!”

BAM!

“And lives…!”

BAM!

“To tell the tale!!!”

CRACK!

Eddie’s head lolled backwards, face visibly disfigured by Rebecca’s beating as she panted atop his body, hands bloodied with a satisfied look on her face. Then she dropped her grip on his shirt, and went over to her Thorton to grab something to wipe the considerable amount of blood off her hands.

.

..

…

“… I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say that’s come kind of trigger for her?” Adrian asked. Rita and Pilar both nodded in confirmation

Good to know, I guess. I never really thought she looked like a loli anyway, just a really short woman who’s out of my league. A short, violent woman who’s out of my league. 

Strangely enough, the violence hadn’t been a turnoff. Not that he wanted her to do that stuff to him. He just didn’t think she was any less attractive while she was enacting violence. Or maybe he was just getting desensitized to this kind of stuff and just saw her, blood and all.

That bloodstain on her cheek does look kinda cute, though.

“So… what now?”

“Now, I am going to get started on lifting Pilar’s ban,” Rita said. “Be back out in a few minutes, alright?”

Rita went inside again, the natural sway of her hips drawing Adrian for a second time that day. Pilar just grinned silently at him, saying nothing. 

“The hell are you looking so happy about?” Adrian asked. 

“Nothing, choom. Nothing at all,” Pilar said as he put an arm around Adrian’s shoulder. “Still, I do feel like I should thank you for bailing me out of that firefight and all! Probably would’ve been flatlined otherwise.”

“No need, really,” Adrian said. 

“C’mon dude, my treat!” Pilar insisted. 

“… okay, what’s this thing you’re treating me to?”

“Lizzie’s latest BD, fresh off the presses! It debuts tonight, my choom!”

Suddenly, Adrian felt as though he had just made a very big mistake.

Rebecca hadn’t thought that she’d be out here again. Hell, she’d honestly doubted that she’d be back to Lizzie’s at all. But here she was, waiting for Pilar to finish torturing her friend while she sat in the bed of her truck, swinging her legs back and forth while she whistled to herself. The thumping sound of the club’s music was dulled this far out, and it gave her some measure of peace.

“You never did like the noise,” Rita said, coming up beside her as hoping into the truck bed. 

“Nope. I’m also still very banned from Lizzie’s, so it wouldn’t matter if I liked it anyway,” Rebecca pointed out with a shrug.

“Fair enough,” her ex-coworker said, pulling out a pair of beers and handing one off to her. “You want a drink? I’m on break, and you look like you might need to destress.”

“I’m good, thanks,” Rebecca replied. She was tempted, but she didn’t want to have a hangover two nights in a row. It’d be bad for business. 

A few seconds of silence passed between them before Rita said something else.

“So… Redhand’s your drinking buddy, huh?”

“Yup,” she said with a grin. “Guy’s already got some pretty outrageous stories. Nothing too crazy, but damned funny if you put it in the right context!”

“Ain’t that one of the first rules of comedy?”

“My point still stands!”

.

..

…

“… y’know, I saw you making eyes at Adrian,” Rita said. “And I also saw how uncomfortable you were when Pilar said he’d be bringing him in for the BD premiere.”

“O-Oh!” Rebecca said, surprise and embarrassment on her face. “You did, huh? Well, uh…”

“Don’t worry girl, my lips are sealed,” Rita said, putting a finger to her lips while giving her friend a wink. “But seriously, you need to start working on your poker face again. You were practically drooling over him when you saw him get that Eddie guy in a headlock.”

“I can’t help it; he makes that kind of stuff look sexy!” Rebecca said. “And I don’t want to sleep with him! I just… he’s kinda hot, alright?”

“Not judging, but do you like him sexually or romantically?”

“I… I have no fucking idea,” she admitted. “It’s weird. This is new territory for me. I never exactly had a steady input or output that lasted longer than a few months, and I’ve only known him for two. I want to give this room to breathe and see where it goes, not dive headfirst into it like every other failed relationship I’ve ever had. But he’s my friend first and foremost. If he’s not interested in me, I can live with that. I’ll still want to hang out with him and shit, y’know? He’s way too fun.”

Rita just shrugged. “Hey, it’s not my prerogative whether or not you keep seeing him even if do you just end up as friends. Just remember to take care of yourself. Also… I don’t think your interest is as one-sided as you think it is.”

“Huh?”

“I mean, for one thing, that boy was fucking entranced when he saw you kicking the shit out of Eddie,” she said with a teasing grin. “Like he’d just seen an angel on earth and was instantly smitten.”

“You… you’re sure?” she asked, voice nervous. “If you’re pulling my leg-”

“I’d never! Not over stuff like this,” Rita replied. “Guy seems genuinely attracted to you. I mean, don’t get me wrong, he checked me out once or twice, but he didn’t stare, which is a lot more than I can say for some people. Also, he didn’t look at me the same way he looked at you; not by a long shot.”

“I’m… not sure how to feel about that.” On the one hand, it meant that Adrian was attracted to other women, especially one as provocatively dressed as Rita fuckin’ Wheeler. On the other hand, he was attracted to her in particular. She knew that he checked her out sometimes, which was something she was still used to from her time in the Mox. But now that she thought about it, he did look at her in a different way. She didn’t have a word for it - not yet. All she did know was that it was different.

“That’s alright. Take your time. Just don’t get obsessed with him like some smitten schoolgirl, alright?”

Rebecca laughed at that. “Rita, I’m one of the most dangerous women in the entire city - I’m not gonna stop being a badass just because I think some guy happens to be hot.”

Rita just shrugged. “Hey, you never know. Also, his birthday’s in a couple of days, so if it feels right…”

“Rita!” Rebecca said, fully blushing at the prospect while the older bouncer just laughed. This was outrageous! Why the hell was she embarrassed at the prospect of sleeping with Adrian?! This hadn’t happened with anyone else before - not by a long shot!

“… thanks for telling me about his birthday,” she said with a slight grumble to her tone. “I never asked him myself, so thanks for the heads up.

“Oh, before I forget to ask, how’s Judy doing? She and Susie still butting heads?”

“She’s alright, for the most part. And yeah, they are,” Rita answered. 

“Anything about that you can talk about?” Rebecca asked. 

“Not in public I can’t,” Rita replied with an apologetic smile. “Sorry. Regulations and all of that. Just… maybe keep an ear to the ground, alright? We might need your help sometime in the future.”

That surprised her. Rita wasn’t the type to ask for help for most things, let alone in preparation for a potential possibility, but here she was, doing exactly that. Rita was one of only a few people in the Mox that she’d spoken to regularly before she’d left, and she knew the woman well even after two years had passed. 

“Sure. You’ve got my holo, so feel free to call me sometime,” Rebecca said with a smile. “If you need help, or if you just want someone to talk to.”

“Thanks Becca,” Rita said, pulling the shorter woman into a side hug. “Nice to see you again.

Rebecca quickly returned it. “It was nice seeing you too. I’ll try to do better about keeping in touch from now on.”

“What, we gonna go out for drinks like the old days?”

“… nah,” Rebecca said with a smile. “You’re not quite my favorite anymore.”

Rita gave an overdramatic gasp at the declaration. “Truly, a sad day!”

The two women chuckled at her jest, almost missing the two men walking out of the BD club. One of them was her brother, looking satisfied and making that handjob motion that always kinda pissed her off. Not the gesture itself, but her nature as an ex sexworker - no one was gonna get off with technique like that with hands like those! It was just as well that Pilar wasn’t into guys.

Adrian, on the other hand, looked horrified and slightly hollow, like he’d lost a piece of himself in there and would never get it back. He looked down at the pavement while Pilar talked his ear off about porno BDs, or some other inane nonesense, and Rebecca felt a building sense of anticipation in the air.

“Twenty edds says he knocks Pilar flat on his ass for the next few hours,” Rita said, picking up on that strange tension as well. 

“I’ll put fifty on Adrian knocking him out for at least a day,” Rebecca said, shaking hands with the woman as they turned back to the scene. The tension in Adrian’s shoulders just kept growing and growing, as though he were holding something back the whole time Pilar kept running his mouth. It was a titanic work of willpower that Rebecca doubted that she would be able to replicate.

Then, almost in slow motion, Rebecca saw the cleanest, most precise uppercut that she had ever seen Adrian throw. She had a feeling that even Dorio would be impressed by the speed, power and technique put into that hit, sending Pilar tumbling through the air like a top that had suddenly decided that it wanted to try it’s hand at flying. He toppled to the ground in a heap of mass and a tangle of his own limbs, and Rebecca and Rita both started laughing at the sight. It served Pilar right.

As it turned out, Rebecca would be winning that little bet they’d made in the bed of her truck. Because Pilar was knocked out cold for the next three days. Three days of peace, quiet, and undisturbed sleep. She had never been happier.

Adrian Walker’s Status:

LEVEL: 10

SREET CRED: 10 → 11

€$: 15659 → 20013

Stats and Skills:

BODY: 4

Athletics: Lvl 3

Annihilation: Lvl 1

Street Brawler: Lvl 4

REFLEX: 8

Assault: Lvl 3

Handguns: Lvl 5

Blades: Lvl 1

TECH: 7

Crafting: Lvl 5

Engineering: Lvl 2

INTELLIGENCE: 3

Breach Protocol: Lvl 1

Quickhacking: Lvl 1

COOL: 8

Ninjitsu: Lvl 3

Cold Blood: Lvl 6

Notable Cyberware:

FRONTAL CORTEX: None | None | None 

OCCULAR SYSTEM: Dead-Eye Optic

CIRCULATORY SYSTEM: None | None | None

IMMUNE SYSTEM: None | None

NERVOUS SYSTEM: None | None

INTEGUMENTARY SYSTEM: None | None | None

OPERATING SYSTEM: Dead-Eye Combat Analysis Regulation & Assistance Device [Mrk 0]

SKELETON: None | None

HANDS: None

ARMS: Military Grade Arasaka Cyberarm

LEGS: None

Chapter Text

July 27th, 2075

Night City, CA.

12:22 pm PST.

4 months and 3 weeks before a certain car accident.

The sound of impact echoed through the empty warehouse as two figures sparred in it’s depths, the sound of fist against flesh and the occasional metal on metal ringing out like gunshots in the otherwise silent place. Their movements were fast. Not with the speed of slowed time, but the speed of practice, effort, and sheer concentration.

Adrian pushed aside another blow as M’s cybernetic arm whistled past his face, displacing the air around it as he tried to go in for a grapple. The man saw it coming, however, and countered accordingly, grabbing him by the wrist as he tried to get him into an arm lock.

This was where the young merc let his weight take over, dropping slightly as M found himself unable to get him into a proper lock. He dropped his apprentice’s arm hastily, lest he be forced to take the fall with him, letting him slowly fall to the ground. Then, Adrian got his other hand under his body and swung out with a foot, trying to trip up his master with a low blow to the back of his shin. It was risky, and certainly dangerous, but Adrian had begun to find that using what you knew in unexpected and unpredictable ways could lead to victory, especially in situations like these.

M, of course, dodged the attack, pulling his foot up to make a stomping strike at Adrian’s head. The young merc rolled, the echo of M’s boot against the concrete ground of the warehouse echoing off the walls, the noise not escaping into the rest of the district as Adrian quickly got to his feet, falling into his ready stance. 

M nodded, and made a beckoning motion towards Adrian, inviting the young man to attack him without fear of retaliation. He nodded and darted forward, first starting with a left jab that was quickly followed with a right cross. He blocked both attacks, and the rising knee that followed it, the elbow that came after and the front kick that was aimed straight for his gut. That last one he actually used his cyberarm to block, looking at Adrian with a raised brow.

That was when Adrian kicked himself off the ground with his other foot, putting his full weight into the leg that M was currently holding. Surprise was clear on the man’s face as Adrian brought his own cyberarm around in a haymaker punch, eager to finally get so much as a single scratch on his master who had remained an indomitable mountain for all these months of training.

And it seemed that he would be staying that way for a while longer, because after M's surprise faded, Adrian was suddenly on his back with his master’s black fist hanging just above his face. Despite his own defeat, and the mountain he had left to climb, he smiled. Hell, he was practically grinning. 

“Made you… use… Sandevistan…” he said between breaths, half laughing, half panting.

M breathed out, taking his fist away from Adrian’s face and offering him a solid hand up. He took it, rising to his feet with a grunt as he felt the soreness in his body take it’s toll. They had been at this for a while, and it wasn’t likely to end for another few hours at least.

“Sit down, kid,” M said, gesturing to the two metal foldout chairs he’d brought for today. Adrian quickly obliged, sinking into one just before M tossed him a water bottle. He caught it and drank from it greedily, his mentor doing likewise as he sat across from him. Then he heard words leave his master’s lips that he’d never thought to hear.

“Take the rest of the day off. Low stress, nothing too physically taxing. Recover your strength.”

This was strange, and M clearly knew it too. He usually had Adrian keep working out until he was well and truly exhausted, which tended to be most of the day. He waved away the questions that were clearly burning in Adrian’s mind, instead explaining himself rather simply. “It’s your birthday, and I know you’re goin’ somewhere with that lady friend o’ yours. Consider it an early birthday present.”

“Seriously?!” he asked, unable to help the smile that was spreading across his face. 

“Seriously,” M confirmed. “Your actual present won’t be coming here for a couple of weeks, so I figured that the least I could do in the meantime was let you go to this thing without having to worry about sore muscles.”

Adrian gave a chuckle at that. “Thanks. I was actually kinda worried about that when I woke up this morning, so thanks for the concern.”

“Don’t mention it,” M said with another smile. “You just be sure to have fun, alright kid? Now, that doesn’t mean you should be unprepared - keep your iron on you at all times. This is still Night City, and shit happens every day. Just be sure that you don’t end up on the death toll tomorrow, alright?”

“Yes dad,” Adrian said with a groaning sigh. M raised a brow at the term, especially since they both knew damn well that M was old enough to be Adrian’s great-grandfather at the very least. 

“Also, be sure to take a condom or two,” M said with a neutral expression and a twinkle in his eye that was one of his hidden variations on the facial expression known as the shit-eating grin. “I know you don’t plan on hopping into someone’s bed, but shit happens, and it’s better to have it an not need it than vice versa.”

“I… I… fucking shit, you have a point,” Adrian said, embarrassment clear on his face. Even if he wasn’t planning on having sex with anyone, shit could happen regardless of your plans.

“Well then, you should get going, take a shower and relax before she comes to get you,” M said, patting his hand on Adrian’s knee before he stood and began to exit the warehouse. “And remember to make sure the condoms fit properly!”

Adrian flipped M off as he left the warehouse, his grizzled voice causing an echo of deep laughter to bounce off the walls.

“You’re sure I can’t come?” Maya asked hours later as the shower hummed through their apartment, the water feeling like warm heaven against Adrian’s skin, warmth sinking into his body. It had been a long training session, but Adrian had showered off the smell and feel of it a while back. This one was to make sure he actually smelled nice.

“I’m pretty damn sure,” Adrian said, voice louder than normal to speak over the din of the water. “For one thing, you’re still a minor and they don’t let kids just go in and out of the place as they please. Second, you’re not even a mercenary yet. Afterlife is an Edgerunner establishment. You’ve gotta be running the Edge in order to get in. Either that, or someone has to invite you in specifically.”

“Well, why not?” she asked. “It’s not like I’m not improving!”

“Because you haven’t done any jobs yet - and you’re not going to for a while yet,” Adrian said, rinsing off the last of the soap and turning off the showerhead. “We don’t have any proper equipment or cyberware for you, first of all. You need a lot of very specific stuff if you want to be a Netrunner. Your civie OS isn’t gonna cut it if you want to go into the Net. Plus, we still need to get you a tutor or a mentor or someone who can show you the ropes of the Net. I can’t, and I have yet to meet anyone who can actually do that.”

“Sure, but you came across Netrunners before, right?” Maya asked as Adrian emerged from the bathroom with a towel around his waist, hair still damp from the shower. 

“Let me specify: I haven’t met anyone that could potentially teach you who I haven’t shot in the face,” he said, stepping out of view of his sister and quickly beginning to dress himself. 

“You’ve killed Netrunners before?” she asked, strangely more excited than horrified. Or maybe just fascinated. “What was fighting them like?”

“… tricky,” Adrian said as he pulled on his pants, recalling one of the only Netrunners he’d ever fought. Their quickhacks had blinded and stunned him for a few seconds, allowing them to get the upper hand. If it hadn’t been for the reflexes drilled into him by M, he’d have been a dead man that day. He also may have taken his frustration at the whole situation out on that Netrunner by shooting them several times in the face with Calamity. “Very tricky.”

Maya raised a brow at that, clearly sensing more of a story there but seeming unwilling to pry any further into her brother’s business than she absolutely had to. Instead, she just rummaged around behind the sofa - a place that Adrian didn’t check all that often, until she managed to pull out a long package, and she offered it to him with a big smile on her face. “Managed to get this thing for a steal. I know it’s probably not your preferred choice of weapon, but, well… happy birthday, Adrian.”

Taking it gently in his hands, Adrian quickly opened the package, and was truly moved by what he saw within. It was a Constitutional Arms M2038 Tactician Shotgun, with pump action and a stock added to the end to ensure that he wouldn’t be taken off his feet. It was sleek, with a decent weight and heft to it, as all good shotguns would. While shotguns might not be his preferred firearm, he was definitely grateful to have this one available to him, and as a gift no less!

“How did you afford this?” he asked, looking at his sister with a bit of concern. “You didn’t do anything stupid, did you?”

“Nah,” Maya replied with a silly expression that Adrian wasn’t completely sure how to decipher. “You’d be surprised what people are willing to pay for on the Net. I got enough eddies to buy that things at a discount gun store in about a few days!”

“Huh. How’d you manage that?” he asked as he put the gun inside of his workspace, next to Adversity. He’d have to paint it and mod it before he’d consider taking it out for a test drive. Then he’d have to find a name for it, too. Maybe Rebecca could help him with it? She’d always claimed a certain fascination with shotguns, after all, Her expertise might be helpful here. 

“I’m no Netrunner, but I’m not a total newb when it comes to the regular net,” Maya said. “Like I said, I don’t need a tutor. I need a Netrunner who’s willing to teach me how to get started.”

Adrian nodded. “Sounds reasonable. It's just… I’m not really sure how I’m even supposed to start looking, y’know? How do you look for people who are notoriously paranoid and distrusting?”

“Simple,” Maya said, a big smile on their face. “It’s like hunting any wild animal. You’ve gotta find their trail.”

“Easier said than done, especially in meat space,” Adrian sighed.

“Hey,” Maya said, snapping her fingers under his nose to bring him out of this thoughts. “Tonight isn’t about any of that. Tonight is about you having fun with someone you like and maybe making a few mistakes.”

Adrian sighed. Maya was right, he really was getting a little too stressed about everything. Maybe he could afford to loosen up a little. Not a lot, but just a little would probably do him wonders. He just had to get out of his own way and… have fun. 

It seemed daunting, especially on his own. But he wouldn’t be on his own. Rebecca would be there, certainly, and so would the rest of her crew. When she’d told them about his birthday, and with Pilar out for the count, Maine had insisted that they go to the Afterlife to celebrate with the two of them. 

Adrian knew that this was, in all likelihood, an opportunity for the man to scout out his talent, to see if he would fit with the crew itself. He didn’t mind, though. Rebecca would’ve told him if something was up. 

“How do I look?” he asked Maya, doing a couple of turns to show off his outfit to her. It was the same outfit that he wore on most of his jobs now, and he took particular pride in his extended crystaljock bomber jacket with the embroidered, stylized red hawk on the back. 

“Fucking great bro,” Maya said, giving him a pat on his back as he made his way towards the door. “Just be sure to bring some condoms, alright? Becca’ll be all over you in that fit.”

Adrian flipped her off, and the young woman in question mirrored the gesture with an impish smile on her face.

Rebecca came to the entrance of his apartment building a few minutes later with a smile on her face. She was clearly excited for the night ahead of them, especially since she'd be introducing Adrian to the rest of her crew, sans the still comatose Pilar. She’d actually thanked him pretty profusely over the holo, saying something along the lines of ‘I had an uninterrupted night of sleep for the first time in years’ and had promptly offered to give him free drinks at The Garden of Choice for life in exchange. He’d managed to talk her out of giving him anything in return for that, but she did seem visibly happier when she came around to see him that day.

“Still can’t believe M let you out of training early,” she said as they climbed into her Thorton. She turned the key in the ignition, engine humming to life moments later as she backed them out of their spot and got them on the road again, headed northeast towards the southern end of Watson. “That seems a bit out of character for him from what you’ve told me about the guy.”

“He said that it was a bit of an early birthday present,” he said, not bothering to mention the fact that both M and Maya had insisted that he bring condoms to this damn party, leaving him with a few that would fit him in one of his jacket pockets. “Apparently, the thing that he actually wanted to give to me is still on it’s way, so it’ll be a while before I see it.”

“Given the fact that it’s from your mentor, it’s gotta be something good,” Rebecca said, clearly having some fantasy in her head about Adrian’s whole situation. She’d gotten into this business in the classic sense of Night City: by the seat of her pants with every chance to die, emerging from that hellscape unscathed, but a little crazy for her trouble. “My bet’s a gun of some kind! Probably a sniper or an assault rifle.”

“Why do you think that?” Adrian asked.

“Because you own almost every other basic type of fire arm other than snipers, assault rifles and SMGs, which are really just compact assault rifles.”

The young merc cocked his head, thinking about it for a few seconds. “… yeah, you’re honestly right Though they do tend to have a higher fire rate.”

“And a wider spread,” she added. 

Adrian shrugged. “Can’t say they’re my weapon of choice. Or assault rifles, for that matter. I think I prefer accuracy over most other things. ‘A shot that doesn’t hit is a bullet wasted.’”

“That one of those legendary ‘proverbs’ I’ve heard so much about in media?” Rebecca asked with a smirk.

“Nah, just something that M likes to say during target practice.” And he made sure Adrian felt it too. He rarely missed shots any more, but M was a ruthless teacher. A good one, to be sure, but ruthless nonetheless. 

“So, what did Maya get you, anyway?” Rebecca asked, hand to her chin. “This is kinda last minute, so I didn’t really have time to get you anything before I set up this whole party, but I wanna take notes for next year.”

“Sure, but only if you tell me what you want for your birth-”

“Budget Arms Carnage.”

“… that was fast,” Adrian said. “Didn’t even hesitate.”

“Didn’t need to,” she said, turning to Adrian with a greedy look in her eye. “I really want that shotgun!”

Adrian just chuckled. It wasn’t likely that she would be able to handle that caliber of weapon, given her short stature and slender physique, but it was still what she wanted nonetheless. He couldn’t help but poke fun at her, though.

“You sure you can handle something like that? Your build isn’t exactly made for those types of guns, especially something with as much kick to it as a Carnage.”

She gave Adrian a pout as she punched him lightly in the arm. “Cheeky fucker. But I have been thinking about getting some implants to help me with that, though. There are a couple of options, but I haven’t decided on any of them yet.”

“Leaning towards anything?” he asked. 

“Nope. And it’s gonna stay that way until I actually have a Carnage in my hands,” she said. “You thinking about getting anything new?”

“Not at the moment, no.” All of his cyberware was working out pretty well, all things considered. It wasn’t unlikely that he would be getting new stuff at some point, but for now, at least, he could keep up with the pace of his work with his body still being mostly ‘ganic. “Nothing’s really jumped out at me, anyway.”

“Really? Because I recall you being pretty dead set on those Reinforced Tendons. I would’ve been too, if I moved around like you do in a fight.”

“Yeah, I might want them, but I don’t need them,” Adrian said. “Besides, it’s not like I can afford them anyway. They go for an average of about thirty thousand eddies, and that’s more than everything I’ve got in my bank account right now.”

Rebecca sucked in a hiss through her teeth. “Fucking shit. Well, there goes that idea for a birthday present. I like you, Shoulders, but I’m not sure I like you that much.”

“‘Shoulders?’ Seriously?”

“What? You have very distinct shoulders,” Rebecca said, rather pointedly keeping here eyes on the road. “It’s an observation of fact.

“Still, getting back to weaponry, what kind of gun did Maya get you?”

“Constitutional Arms Tactician,” he said. “Gave me full permission to mod it out to my heart’s content, too!”

“Huh. That’s kinda the everyman of shotguns, isn’t it?”

“Sure, but that doesn’t mean it’s bad,” Adrian said. M had been making him work with all kinds of weapons, even the ones that he was uncomfortable with, though he also had something of an aversion to smart weapons. He’d used them if he had to, but he did say something about ‘wounded pride’ when Adrian asked him about it. “And at the very least, you can trust it to be reliably mid-tier.”

“Isn’t that what people say about the Unity?”

“Yeah, but it’s applicable to the Tactician too,” Adrian said with a shrug. “Most of what Con. Arms makes is like that, actually.”

“Maybe, but don’t let them hear you saying that.”

“What, you afraid I might get snatched up in the night,” Adrian said with an exaggerated tone of dread as he wiggled his fingers in front of his face.

“Hmm… nah, with your ugly mug, they might just shoot you in your sleep.”

“Harsh,” Adrian replied, faux offense on his face as he continued. “Not inaccurate, but harsh.”

Rebecca pulled into the diagonal parking spaces that was on the side of the Afterlife. Surprisingly, despite Adrian’s constant activity throughout Watson, he hadn’t ever really come in the direction of this place, and the few times he had his eyes had just slid past it as though it were another part of the scenery. Though he supposed that was part of the point. Afterlife wasn’t exactly a public joint, after all. 

The two exited Rebecca’s truck and scanned the area, noting the other cars in the spaces that weren’t reserved for employees and the boss herself. The short woman smiled as her eyes landed on a pair of cars, a grey van that looked heavily reinforced at the sides and back called a Chevillon Emperor, and a purple Quadra Type-66 640 TS. She smiled at the sight of them. “Guess everyone got here early. That’s a first.”

“Well that’s not ominous at all,” Adrian said, straightening out his jacket and running a hand over his dark hair. “How do I look?”

“Fuckin’ sexy as hell, choom,” she said, smoothing out his shirt with her palms. It was probably just his imagination, but he thought that he felt her hands lingering there a bit longer than most people would consider appropriate. 

“Just so you know, I was pullin’ your leg back in the truck,” Rebecca said, tone strangely sincere as she turned away from him. “You mug ain’t that bad to look at. Not at all…”

Adrian thought she may have muttered something else to herself, but he was unable to hear it. Instead, she just took him by the arm and started leading him downstairs towards the Afterlife, premiere establishment for Solos, mercenaries, and entire crews of people who could do basically anything and everything for the right price. The young merc had never been down here before, but Rebecca seemed familiar with the place. She probably didn’t spend as much time here as she did at The Garden of Choice, even if this place did seem to fit her vibe much better than they alley-side bar. 

The way down sent a chill through Adrian’s whole body, and not the one that he was comfortable with. it was a physical thing that didn’t quite sting at his skin, but crept out to the edges of his awareness, making damn sure that he knew it was cold. 

“Fucking hell, I hate that part,” Rebecca said, shivering slightly as she continued to walk on. “I know this place used to be a morgue, but would it kill them to turn up the temperature a bit?”

“I think that would defeat the purpose of this place being built out of a morgue,” Adrian said as they turned the corner, coming to the main entrance hallway of Afterlife. The stylized logo for the place hung over them about halfway through the hallway, seemingly designed after a heart-rate monitor line and done in a fluorescent green that was wholly different to the pastel coloration of Rebecca’s hair. The floor was lit up in blue below a fine metallic grate, and the hall itself was crowded with people, either hangers on or those who were waiting for people. “There’s also this thing called 'pants' you seem unfamiliar with.”

“No, I know ‘em. Just just don’t like how they get in the way of how I move,” Rebecca said. “Plus, it’s a lot more freeing, feeling the air against my skin.”

“Says the woman with nothing but her underwear on under that hoodie,” Adrian teased in a whisper. Rebecca promptly responded to this comment by smacking him lightly in the back of the head.

“None of ours are waiting outside,” she said, gesturing to the entrance. “If I know anything about my crew by now, it’s that they don’t wait for everyone to show up before they start havin’ a good time.”

“Sound like an interesting bunch,” Adrian commented as they continued to the entrance. 

“They are! They’re also fuckin’ tough as nails. So’s this guy!”

She gestured to the person who was currently serving as the bar’s bouncer, a tall, broad shouldered man with a thick build that was heavy with muscle, almost reminding him of one of the Animals with just how ripped he was. He was probably a member of the gang, considering just how often they took bodyguard jobs. He had a flat face and large metallic implants on the sides of his jaw, and he held himself with the confidence of someone who had been working this job for years and did it well. 

“Names?” he said, holding a hand out to stop their approach.

“Hey there, Emmerick,” Rebecca said to the bouncer with some familiarity. “It’s Rebecca. Here for a party that’s already inside. Maine’s probably with ‘em.”

Emmerick nodded, his eyes glowing with the sign of an active holo call as he followed through. 

“Hey there Maine. Yeah, got a pair out here who want to come in. Say they’re with you. Uh huh. Yeah. She’s here. But… you’re sure this is the other guy? Kid barely looks older than twenty…”

“I’m nineteen, actually,” Adrian admitted casually. 

Emerick raised a brow at that, but just shrugged. “Yeah, black hair with a burn scar on the upper right side of his face, almost six feet, customized crystaljock bomber jacket…”

The man’s eyes locked onto Adrian’s hand. To be precise, his right hand. His cybernetic hand. His cybernetic hand which was rather distinctly red in it’s coloration. Emmerick’s face lit up with a bit of recognition at the sight, and Adrian cursed himself for relaxing his guard, quickly putting his hand into the righthand pocket of his jacket. Shit. If the fucking bouncer for Afterlife knew who he was, then that meant his story might be spreading faster than he was totally comfortable with. Especially since he hadn’t even been to this fucking place yet!

“Yeah, you’re good,” he said, stepping aside from the entrance and making no comment on Adrian’s hand. “Head on in.”

“Thanks Em!” Rebecca replied cheerfully. “Glad we can get along so well after what happened to Ryan.”

“Ryan was a tool and a dumbass,” Emmerick said with a smirk. “Even I wouldn’t pick a fight with you out of the blue.”

“Why? Scared?” she asked back with a smirk.

“Nah, just wanna see how you scurry while you try to actually hurt me.”

Rebecca laughed as she and Adrian continued into the bar. Indeed, the atmosphere in the place was immediate, and actually seemed further enhanced by the cold. There was the noise of polite conversation all around them as they continued forward, with no one doing anything even remotely stupid like you would see in a high-octane club. There was still fun to be had here, just much more restrained. 

“Over here, Becca,” a deep baritone rumbled out from one of the booths. Rebecca turned to the voice and grinned with the familiarity and fondness of years. Adrian followed her gaze and found himself staring at her regular crew, minus Pilar.

The first one he noticed was a woman with short blond hair done in a straight bob cut, her eyes narrow and harsh with pink irises and yellow sclera. Her skin ton was a light purple that caught the light well, though the lower half of her face was made up entirely of a half mask that people sometimes got installed in place of a faceplate. Though, most people with that kind of implant tended to go for a more natural face than whatever she had going on. She wore a long red coat with several buttons on the front that held it closed, a pair of belts on the front and back of each of her forearms. She also wore a pair of tight leather pants and what looked like biking boots, completing her outfit. She was certainly a striking figure, but in a dangerous way that reminded Adrian of certain kinds of animals he’d read about. Probably one of the crew’s netrunners, though he had yet to determine if this was the ‘sarcastic old hag’ or the ‘cold-hearted bitch.’ Adrian kept himself from making any rash judgements, and moved on to the next person in the booth. 

The next was considerably more normal looking, with perfectly styled black hair and a truly excellent mustache to go along with it. His fair skin and dark eyes complimented each other well, and his outfit of a white shirt and dark leather vest with an underarm holster on his shoulders and gun belts along his waist made him look every inch the cowboy type that had once dominated old media from a long time ago. His pants were plain, dark and smooth, though his shoes were sightly pointed and made of dark brown leather, giving further credence to his image of the man as some kind of cowboy. The only thing that really interfered with that image was the metallic cyberhand that had replaced his right hand from the elbow down. Though, truth be told, it was also entirely likely that he was some kind of Nomad, or at least a former one. Those types didn’t like to give up their freedom easily, even for a place as rife with danger and opportunity as Night City. It might explain why the hand was the only cyberware Adrian could identify at a glance.

Next was a rather impressively muscular woman who was definitely taller than Adrian, though he wasn’t completely sure whether or not she was taller than Pilar - he wasn’t here to compare heights. She wore a black jacket with a blue interior, the collar flaring out slightly at the neck to expose the color within. She didn’t have a shirt on under the jacket, her cleavage hanging loose without the support of a bra, the only thing covering them up being the black cups that had been suctioned to them. She wore dark shorts that barely came down to her thigh, and Adrian could see why. Both of her legs were wholly cybernetic, the woman not bothering to use realskin on the limbs, though she clearly had a pair of Gorilla Arms installed as well, judging by the make of her hands, fingers and knuckles dark with metal. Her blonde hair was cut short, done in an undercut on the right side of her head, leaving the left half longer and framing her blue eyes in striking way. She didn’t seem to be hostile towards him at all, only curious, but she was definitely dangerous.

Though not quite as dangerous as the man next to her. If she and Pilar were tall, then this guy was a goddamn goliath of a man. His skin was dark like soil, with a blonde soul patch and matching hair styled in a flared flattop. He had a pair of dark red sunglasses over his eyes, which emphasized his intimidation factor by at least a few points in combination with his open, black leather vest, specifically the orange-red neon collar that reflected light slightly off the bottom edge of them, though the red infinity scarf around his neck broke up the outfit in a nice way. He wore no shirt under that sole garment, though he did also wear a pair of dark cargo pants and large combat boots with red soles and interiors. Maine was the most visibly chromed up of the lot of them, and it wasn’t like his bulk was all metal either. There was clearly some muscle there too - some kinds of cyberware required that you be in ridiculous physical shape in order to get them installed, and he’d obviously done that and then some. Adrian could see the contours of a PLS implant in his left arm, though the work on it seemed… well, a bit amateur? He was no ripperdoc, but he was pretty sure that he wasn’t supposed to see the seems of that thing from where the was standing. But that didn’t take away from his most dominant thought about the man. That he was a walking wall of chrome. 

“Adrian, meet my crew,” Rebecca said with a smile, pointing them all out one at a time. “Masky’s called Kiwi, the one with the annoyingly good mustache is called Falco, the strong woman’s Dorio, and as you can probably guess, the giant of a man next to her is Maine.”

…

“… not really sure how to do this,” Adrian said as he walked over to the booth, sitting near the only person he actually had some familiarity with as he tried to introduce himself. “But I’ll start by confirming the fact that I am in fact Adrian and not some sad sack she dragged off the street in order to pull an elaborate prank you guys.”

Kiwi raised a brow at that, which then furrowed into a frown - or what he assumed was a frown considering the fact that she didn’t have a jaw, and tossed over a wad of eddies to Dorio, who was grinning like the cat who’d caught the canary.

“What the hell, guys?!” Rebecca exclaimed.

“Hey, you seemed genuinely excited when you brought him up,” Dorio said, her voice kind. “So it was easy money for me. Kiwi’s the one who brought up the idea of a prank or some ruse or other.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time she’s done something ridiculous,” Kiwi said. “Remember that time with the fucking flash grenades?”

Maine, Dorio and Kiwi all shivered in collective remembrance, which just seemed to piss Rebecca off even more. Then she glanced around the table, seeming to notice, for the first time, that someone was missing. “Where’s Lucy? I invited her too, right?”

“I already checked in with her,” Maine said. “Not interested in coming out, I guess.”

“If that’s the case, why’s the old hag here?” Rebecca asked, pointing straight at Kiwi. 

“First of all: that’s rude, I’m like twelve years older than you at most. Second: I wanted to see this guy you’ve been going on about so much.”

She gave Adrian a once over, gaze clearly dismissive as she turned back to Rebecca. “Honestly? Not impressed.”

Adrian just shrugged. “Never tried to be much to look at, and I’m not about to start.”

Rebecca gave him a subtle look portraying her confusion, which Adrian didn’t respond to. Another of M’s little pieces of advice was to ‘never let them see you sweat.’ If people thought you were nervous, they would try to capitalize on that. Also, something about Kiwi just kinda rubbed him the wrong way. Probably how standoffish she was acting. 

Falco chuckled at his response, his mustache emphasizing his words, and his accompanying southern drawl, in the strangest of ways. “Finally, someone with some sense about clothing. Though, I gotta admit that jacket ain’t exactly helping your point.”

“Not entirely my idea,” Adrian said with a sigh. His sister had been badgering him about setting aside some money for himself a little while after she’d gone back to school, and he’d obliged so that she would stop talking to him about it. He hadn’t wanted anything too flashy, but he could admit to liking the hawk on his back. “But I like it well enough, so I’m stickin’ with it.”

Dorio leaned back in her seat, giving Adrian an odd smile. “I heard you knocked Pilar out with a pretty clean uppercut, to hear Rebecca tell it. Can’t say I haven’t wanted to cold cock the guy myself, but what did he do to push you over the edge?”

Adrian just sighed in frustration as he remembered the BD rebut he’d gone to a couple of days ago. It had been… enlightening. And not in many good ways. “Fucker talked me into going with with him to a BD debut at Lizzie’s as a ‘thank you’ for saving his ass.”

There was a collective hiss of sympathy from basically everyone at the table sans Rebecca, who’d been there when it had happened. Maine, rather surprisingly, reached in large hand across the table and placed it on Adrian’s shoulder, giving him a show of solidarity. “Gotta say, that fuckin’ sucks. Sorry you had to go through that. And thanks for saving that dumbass. He’s an idiot and a hothead, but he’s a damn good Techie. Wouldn’t be able to do half of what we do without ‘im.”

“You forgot ‘unrepenting perv,’” Kiwi commented. “Still, sorry you had to suffer through that. No one should be exposed to Pilar’s… preferences.”

Adrian nodded in agreement with the Netrunner. “Yeah, you’ve got that right.”

“What’d he show you, anyway?” Falco asked, curiosity clear on his face. 

“Trust me on this one: you don’t want to know.” Adrian answered with grave seriousness. He turned to Rebecca and deliberately pointed a finger right at her. “Becca, don’t tell him. I shouldn’t have told you, but I did and that was a mistake. So now I’m telling you: you really don’t want to know.”

Falco just put his hands up in a show of surrender, leaning back in his seat with a accepting smile. However, all three of the other occupants in the booth were looking at Adrian’s hand. To be specific, his right hand. One with interest, one with suspicion, and one with barely disguised satisfaction, as though he had confirmed something.

“That’s a nice arm,” Dorio started as Adrian put his hand on the table, not bothering to hide it anymore. “Reinforced knuckles and joints, even some decent plating. Arasaka?”

“To my great displeasure, yes it is,” Adrian admitted. “And yeah, this was the hand I punched Pilar with. I was kinda surprised that the guy flew as far as he did. Then again, I’m pretty sure I broke his jaw too, so…”

Rebecca laughed at that. “Thank fuck, too! I get to have more nights of undisturbed sleep even after he wakes up!”

Maine raised a brow at that. “That why you’ve been so chipper these past few days, Rebecca?”

She gave a proud nod at that. “Honestly, I’d have considered it a lot sooner if it wouldn’t lead to inevitable brain damage. Pilar is a gonkhead, but he’s still our Techie.”

Kiwi asked a question then, one that was a bit closer to personal than he liked. “Where’d you get the arm? As far as I know, that model’s not on the open market.”

“A good ripper in Watson helped me out,” Adrian said, not elaborating further than that. Kiwi just shrugged, leaning back into her seat as she pulled a cigarette out of her coat. It was dark, rather than the traditional white and orange that most such deathsticks were, but despite his curiosity as to the brand, he didn’t ask about them. Still, the fact that she could smoke through that faceplate mask felt… odd, to him. 

“Y’know… been hearing some stuff around town lately about a guy with a red cyberarm,” Maine mentioned. That raised a few brows and turned some attention his way as the man continued. “Apparently, you took out a cyberpsycho in the middle of your first job. And you also took out a garage full of Valentinos all by your lonesome, not to mention the other Scav hideout you busted into a couple of weeks ago. So… you him? You ‘Redhand?’”

.

..

…

“… fucking hell, does everyone know that name now?” Adrian replied with a sigh as he scratched at the back of his head.

“Because people like the name, choom,” Rebecca said, leaning into his side with a cheeky smirk on her face. “Sounds intimidating. Kinda sexy, too.”

 “I don’t even mind the name itself, but it’s like the gossip scene of this place is working at light speed,” Adrian complained. People liked rumors way too much in this fucking city.

Maine gave a loud laugh at that, reaching for a pair glasses as his order was given to him, passing the other one to Dorio. Apparently, they’d arrived first. “Kid, there ain’t no fucking speed in the universe faster than gossip. Still, any of it true?”

“Most of it, yeah,” Adrian said. “Not sure how I measure up to your standards, but I think I do well enough.”

“That’s good,” Dorio said. “Where’re you from, anyway? You a Night City native, or are you a recent addition like our wheelman over here?”

“Watson born and raised,” Adrian said proudly. “Though I did recently move out to Japantown.”

“Nice spot,” Dorio replied with a nod, metallic fingers rubbing at her chin. “Got any hobbies?”

“Well, other than drinking with Rebecca, I spend a lot of time with guns.”

“So do most Edgerunners,” Kiwi commented. 

“No, I mean I spend a lot of time with guns.” He pulled Reckoning out of it’s holster by the barrel and slid it across the table. “Actually modded this one out myself.”

Maine raised a brow at it while Rebecca peaked up over the table from her position on Adrian’s side. She’d never gotten a good look at his iron before, and seemed quite curious. Dorio just nodded approvingly while Falco leaned forward with some interest. Kiwi seemed entirely uninterested in the firearm, though Maine eventually reached over and inspected it for himself.

“Damn. That’s some fucking preem work,” he said, causing Dorio and Kiwi to both look at him in surprise. He ignored the looks, instead turning the gun around in his hand before he looked back to Adrian, sliding the weapon back across the table. “You really did this yourself? You’re sure you’re not a gunsmith?”

“Nah - don’t really have the talent for making guns, but I am pretty good at changing what’s already there. It’s a lot easier, too. Not exactly a lot of room in my budget to start making guns wholesale,” he admitted. Though he knew a lot more about how guns worked now - especially with his given profession as a solo, he hadn’t studied it while he’d still been in school. He was much more interested in experimental tech. A dream that, sadly, would never come to pass.

“Well, with a weapon like that, you should consider it,” Maine offered. “Could be a good way to get some extra edds.”

Adrian thought about it as he took Reckoning back off the table, holstering it once again. He thought he knew the angle that Maine was going for here - establish a connection with him now so that he could more naturally ask him to join the crew in an official capacity later. Adrian had to admit, it was a sound tactic. And even though he could see it, he wasn’t necessarily discouraged from taking him up on the offer. Maine and his crew seemed like good people, and like interesting characters in their own right. At the very least, Rebecca seemed to trust them. 

“I’ll think about it,” Adrian said, smiling at the guy. “But I think that’s enough business talk, don’t you?”

Maine chuckled at that. “Sorry - couldn’t help myself. Still, you ever need help, you’ve got Rebecca’s holo. Just remember that we don’t work pro-bono.”

“Who does?” Adrian asked. “Anyways, who’s getting drinks tonight?”

“We’re drinkin’ on Kiwi tonight,” Dorio said with a grin as she gestured at the woman with her thumb. “Part of the bet we made.”

Kiwi looked at the muscled woman with an exasperated sigh as she flipped her off, to which Dorio kindly returned the gesture. He’d been seeing that one a lot more than usual lately.

“In that case… what kinda drinks do they have? Any whiskey?”

“You don’t know the menu?” Maine asked.

“He’s never been here before,” Rebecca answered. “Figured it’d be a nice surprise. Plus, it is his birthday, so…”

“Huh.” The big man seemed to go into thought for a few moments before he responded. “Well then, might as well start out with a Silverhand and see where the rest of the night takes us.”

“Silverhand?” Adrian asked. “Like the Rockerboy?”

“Exactly,” Maine said with a smile, gesturing to a server and getting everyone else’s drinks before he continued wit his explanation. “They serve normal drinks here too, but they also have specials named after famous Edgerunners who’ve died. They’ve got Silverhand here, as well as Boa Boa. Pretty sure Jenni Flexx is on the menu too. But we’re not here to talk legends. We’re here…

“To have a good fuckin’ time.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Adrian said with a smile. The rest of the drinks arrived, and Maine raised his glass in a toast.

“To new friends and good money!”

Everyone drank to that. Adrian had to admit, the Silverhand was a damn good drink. He’d never thought to try getting tequila with a chili garnish, but it worked with the strong flavor of the drink, and the beer, rather surprisingly, broke up the more bitter taste with a bit of sourness that shouldn’t have worked, but did. 

“Fucking shit, that’s good,” Adrian said, giving a light cough when he was finished. “Strong as hell, though.”

“Trust me, kid, you’re gonna be goin’ through the whole damn menu,” Maine said with a grin. “It’s your birthday. Have some fun!”

And he did. Time flew by as he shot the shit with the others, eventually finding the Afterlife game room, seeing it filled with a pool table and various old-school arcade games from the 2050s. He even found one about a glitching horse called ‘Roach Race.’ It was a weird game, but a fun one. 

“I still don’t understand how you’re so good at this stupid game,” Kiwi said, kicking the machine lightly as she tried to express her frustration without pissing off the owner of this place. Adrian hadn’t known a whole lot about the mercenary world, but even he had heard of Rogue Amendiares. One of the deadliest Solos to ever live and currently known either as the Queen of the Afterlife or the Queen of the Fixers, depending on who you asked. Both were technically accurate, but the former was more widely known that the latter. 

“There’s a trick to it,” Adrian said, taking the joystick and starting a new game, the titular horse, Roach, running across the screen. “You’ve gotta get used to the fact that his glitch is like a reset button, so you really need to pay attention to your positioning or else you’ll die pretty early.”

“I still don’t get it,” Kiwi said with a frustrated sigh. 

“That’s alright,” Adrian said. “I didn’t get good at this for a while.”

“How did you get so good at this game, anyway?” she asked. 

“I, uh… had a lot of free time on my hands.” Especially after I dropped out of high school.

Kiwi shrugged. “Fair enough. I’m still gonna beat your high score.”

“You can try,” Adrian chuckled, noting that his was third on the overall leaderboard. He wasn’t sure who TPA or CRS were, but they were definitely better than him. A lot better. “But if you don’t mind me asking… why Kiwi?”

She quirked a brow at that. 

“No, seriously, why the name ‘Kiwi?’” Adrian asked again. “I’m assuming it’s an alias right now, so feel free to correct me if it isn’t, but it just seems like something really random. Either that or your parents were really weird.”

“It’s an alias. And I chose it because… well, I like kiwis,” she answered, starting up another game of Roach Race.

“… that’s it?” 

“That’s it. I just like kiwis.”

Adrian just looked at the netrunner for a few seconds. Then he sighed, shrugging his shoulders in defeat. “Honestly, I’ve heard worse nicknames in my time.”

“‘Your time?’ Kid, you might be competent as hell, but you’ve barely been at this for a few months - you don’t get to say shit like that until you’ve been at this for at least a year.”

“My point still stands,” Adrian replied, smiling in remembrance. “I actually had a hit on this dumb bastard who called himself Reggie.”

“… no shit?”

“No shit. Thought that having a normal sounding name would somehow make him seem more intimidating.”

“What happened to the guy?”

“Shot him in the face before he could so much as utter a sentence.”

Kiwi chuckled darkly at that. “Serves the dumb fucker right, thinking a name like ‘Reggie’ would make him seem intimidating.”

Adrian chuckled right along with her. He had to admit, thinking back to that backstabbing fuck was nice, if only to make fun of his terrible, self-given nickname. Eventually, Kiwi got the hang of Roach Race, and even seemed to be getting really sucked into the flow of it all. He let her be, wandering off to where Falco was currently setting up a game of pool. 

“You play?” the mustachioed wheelman asked, examining his cue and chalking it up. The white ball sat at one end of the table, while the assorted coloration of the others sat in a triangle at the other. The felt of the table itself was green and nicely textured, and from the polish of the wood, Adrian had to assume that this thing was relatively new - probably a year old at the most, but it was still more than enough for a game.

“Sure, I’m bored,” Adrian said, picking up a cue of his own. “Any specific game?”

“Eight-ball should be fine,” Falco said. “You wanna break, or should I?”

“You got a coin to flip?”

He nodded, taking the object out of his coat and balancing it on his cybernetic right hand. “Heads or tails?”

“Hmm… heads.”

Falco promptly flipped the coin, letting it hand at the apex of it’s arc for a split second before he snatched out of the air when inertia started pulling back on it. He opened his hand and smiled. “Looks like today’s your day after all, birthday boy. Heads.”

Adrian shook his head. “Please don’t call me that. It’s embarrassing.”

“Sure, but it’s not inaccurate,” Falco said as Adrian leaned forward, angling the cue across his hand of flesh and blood while his cyberarm guided the cue, ready to spike the white ball into the multitude of others lined up before it. “Besides, people don’t tend to celebrate birthdays in Night City very often. It’s… kinda lonely.”

Adrian smacked the tip of his cue into the white ball like a spear, sending the rest of the balls scattering all across the table, bouncing off the sides until they finally stopped. One of the balls, however, fell into one of the holes in the corners, cementing Adrian’s suit for this round. 

“Solids,” he said, turning around and lining up another shot. “What do you mean by lonely? We’re all here, aren’t we?”

“Yeah, and the crew’s great. I wouldn’t hesitate to call any of them my friends,” Falco said. “Well, except maybe Kiwi, but that’s just because she’s her. But I meant more… well, maybe I’m just homesick or somethin’.”

“You used to be a Nomad, right?” Adrian asked, launching the cue ball at another of the solids. He didn’t get any in that time, but he managed to set up a somewhat decent shot. “Must’ve been quite the culture shot, going from the Badlands to… well, here.”

“It was. Especially at first,” Falco replied as he looked at the table, trying to figure out the angle of his shot. “I’ve gotten used to it, but I can’t say there ain’t things about a life on the road that I don’t miss. Especially… well, that’s not a story we should be telling on a day like this anyway.”

There was something there, Adrian could tell. The look in his eyes when he’d almost started… something had happened to this guy. Or more likely to this clan he’d used to belong to. Adrian didn’t pry. Instead, he let the man calmly and carefully take his shot. 

“Do you miss it?” he asked, unable to help himself entirely. “A life on the road?”

Falco looked at him with a raised brow, though he seemed to take the question seriously enough. “Parts of it, yeah. It was a good life, but it was a hard one too. Some days we got to party like kings, and others we had to ration things out just to make sure no one starved. Didn’t always work.

“How about you? You miss your old life any?”

“… every day,” Adrian admitted. “It wasn’t an easy one, but it was peaceful. And I had people who cared about me. I was happy.”

He didn’t elaborate further than that, and Falco didn’t pry. The game of pool went by pretty quietly after that. Once it was coming to a close, with Falco winning out by a narrow margin after a three point hot streak, Adrian though of another question that he should probably ask the guy. 

“Hey, do you drive the Quadra or the Chevillon out front?”

Falco smiled at this, looking eager to talk about his wheels. Most Nomads were - cars were their pride and joy, after all. It was how they were able to survive the vast expanse known as the Badlands. “The Chevillon’s my baby. Got her a couple years ago for a steal. I’ve had to swap out so many parts that I’ve honestly lost track, but that van’s gotten me through more firefights than any other vehicle I’ve ever rode.”

Adrian nodded. “I can see why you’d like it. Never had a lot to spend on cars myself. Still don’t, honestly. Need a lot more edds before that becomes a possibility.”

“So how’d you get to the Afterlife then? Take the NCART?”

“Nah,” Adrian said. He hadn’t ridden the NCART in over a month. “ I rode down with Becca in her Thorton, but I actually drive an Archer Hella myself. I haven’t made any major modifications to it or anything, but it’s a good car, and it works for me.”

“Got it for a steal?” Falco asked with a smirk.

“Quite literally,” Adrian replied. “You know any good car shops around town? I’d like to get my ride tuned up ASAP.”

“A decent one, yeah. But I’ll let you know if there’s someone up to my standards.”

“Damn. Nomad standards for cars are pretty fuckin’ high,” Adrian said with genuine surprise.

“And that’s how you know they’ll be the best o’ the best. Keep in touch. Also, you may want to look into branching out your selection of vehicles, once you have the cash. It’s expensive, but the right kind of vehicle can really save your ass in the right situation.”

And Adrian moved on, walking over to actual bar to have a bit of a break. Maine was there as well, keeping an eye on the news while the bartender popped another bottle of beer for him. The woman was tall, with a slightly stocky build and maroon hair pulled into a tight tail, though long portions framed her face. She had a short-sleeved, dark blue jumpsuit on to ward off the chill of the bar’s normal temperature, and her calloused hands suggested that she did a lot more than mix drinks.

“Any requests?” she asked, wearing a smile that was definitely made on the battlefield of customer service. 

“I think I’ll have another Silverhand,” Adrian requested.

“You like it, huh?” Maine said with a smile.

“Hey, it’s a good drink,” Adrian said, taking the swiftly completed mix in hand. “Even if the guy himself was a bit crazy.”

“That’s one way to put it,” the bartender said. “Then again, I don’t think we can really refer to the guy who blew up the old ‘Saka Tower with a pair of pocket nukes as anything but crazy.”

“Yeah, guy may have been crazy, but we all know he didn’t do it alone,” Maine said. “Operation of that scale, with that much collateral damage? C’mon Claire. There had to be another corp involved, even at the fringes.”

“Can’t talk about it,” Claire dissuaded. “You know what happened last time Rogue walked in on one of these talks.”

“Don’t think I could ever forget that,” Maine said with a wry chuckle. “Damn near bit my head off, laying into me like she did.”

“I warned you,” Claire replied with a chuckle. “She doesn’t like talking about those days. And frankly, I get why.”

Maine just nodded, sipping on his drink as he turned back to Adrian. The man was so big that the young merc was surprised that the stool hadn’t snapped under him. Though, given the place’s clientele, he wasn’t surprised that they’d have reinforced furniture. Eventually, chrome could add up to a not insignificant amount of extra weight. 

“Enjoying the festivities?” he asked, pulling down off his sunglasses to reveal blue eyes. He couldn’t tell if they were organic or cybernetic, but they were definitely striking, and interested in his words.

“Night’s been fun so far,” he said, sipping at his Silverhand. “A bit awkward at the beginning, but I managed to find a rhythm with everyone, I think.”

Maine nodded. “That’s good. Might be seeing a lot more of each other around, since you’re drinkin’ buddies with Becca. Honestly, I’m a bit surprised we didn’t end up seeing each other sooner.”

“It’s a big city,” Adrian said. “There’s… what, about five or six million living here? Not entirely surprised that we didn’t. Though, I do think it’s strange that I haven’t run into a whole lot of you guys. With all the buzz around this kind of thing, you’d think these kinds of meetings would happen more often.”

“This ain’t quite like the old days, kid,” Maine replied. “You don’t tend to hear about legendary meetings anymore, like what happened back in the Scorchin’ Twenties. Hell, I’m pretty sure that most people involved in all of that shit didn’t expect it would become quite as mythic as it did.”

Adrian could agree with that. He was living through something like it, though localized to only himself. And, at the very least, it wasn’t like everyone on the street recognized him. He wasn’t ready for that level of fame. He doubted he ever would be.

“I mean, I don’t think any of us really think about stuff beyond how it’ll affect us in the moment,” Adrian said. “Can’t afford to not focus on the here and now. Anyone who tries to focus on the far future that isn’t a corpo tends to wind up dead.”

Maine raised a brow, but shrugged, acquiescing to the point. “Can’t say I completely disagree. Still, gotta focus on something to keep you moving forward. Let yourself keep living, if only for another day.

“You got something like that?”

“… yeah,” he said, a fond smile on his face. Maya, his genius and impulsive little sister. M, a hardass teacher who, underneath all that stone, cared a great deal, even if he rarely showed it. Rebecca, his first friend in several years who’d helped him through some truly awful spots. “Yeah I do.”

Maine smiled, as though he recognized the fire in his eyes. “Well then, keep your eyes on that. It’ll rarely lead you wrong, in the end.”

Adrian nodded. But still, there was another, darker reason for him to continue, to keep living. It was the reason that he’d chosen this life in the first place. He made no mention of it, and brushed the thought away after little more than a surface level glance. Like Falco said, this wasn’t the time for something like that. Today was meant to be about fun.

“Thanks. Y’know, I wasn’t sure what I was expecting from everyone here. Since you guys are all friends with Rebecca, I thought you’d all be just as crazy.”

“It takes a lot to one up that girl on ‘crazy’ without goin’ full-on cyberpsycho,” Maine agreed. “Can’t say it’s a bad thing, though. She’s one of our finest Solos. Honestly, I’m surprised she hasn’t tried using higher caliber weapons despite her height.”

“Yeah, she mentioned wanting to get some cyberware for that,” Adrian mused. “Hasn’t decided on anything, yet. Though, she has actually used higher calibers before. For a few seconds, anyway.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. We did a job together once, and she ended up with an Achilles rifle. Popped a few Tyger Claws with it, too. Said it was hell on her shoulders, so I’m not surprised she let me keep it.”

“Damn kid, she must like you,” Maine laughed, patting Adrian lightly on the back.

“So I’ve been told,” he replied with a laugh of his own. 

Eventually, he moved on from the bar, leaving Maine and Claire to talk about whatever it was they were talking about. Likely something about the Scorchin’ Twenties, or the Time of Red, back when the skyline of Night City had been put into various hues of red from the fallout of Johnny Silverhand’s attempt to get Arasaka out of the States.

And look how that turned out.

Adrian went back to the game room, finding Falco and Kiwi currently going at another game of pool. Given the look in Kiwi’s eyes, and the cocky smirk on Falco’s lips, the wheelman was definitely winning the game. It seemed that he’d gotten solids this time, and Kiwi was paying for it. Towards one of the back corners were Rebecca and Dorio both, the former seeming to challenge the latter to a punching bag machine, one of the ones with an triple digit display to show how hard your hit was. Unlike most of it’s brethren, it had been adjusted for cyberware implants, and would be much harder to raise if you were ‘ganic. 

“C’mon Dorio! Let’s just give one punch each! Then we can really see who’s stronger between us!” Rebecca said, seeming eager to try her hand at the machine despite the fact that the bag was hanging a bit too high for her.

“It’s me, and we both know it,” Dorio said, stretching out her left arm and flexing the muscles, there, both ‘ganic and cybernetic. “I’m not sure you’ll be able to compete with this.”

“What? You chicken, Dorio?”

The large woman raised a brow at that. “Them’s fightin’ words, little miss.”

“You bet your fine ass they are,” Rebecca continued before she saw Adrian observing them on the periphery. “Hey there Adrian! What’s up?”

“Not much, just watching this slowly blow up in your face,” he teased with a smile on her face. 

Rebecca pouted at that. “Okay, fine! I challenge both of you to a punch-off! Winners get one round of free drinks from the loser!”

“Uh… you sure that’s a good idea?” Adrian asked, legitimately concerned. “You’re already paying for the next three nights at Garden of Choice, so-”

“I won’t have to worry about it because I won’t lose!” Rebecca said, pointing her finger directly at the ceiling. It was at that moment that Adrian noticed something he really should’ve noticed a lot sooner. Her cheeks were flush, her movements seemed slightly sluggish, and her eyes moved around with the slowness of alcohol. 

“How much have you had to drink tonight?” he asked, already dreading the answer. 

“Umm… a couple Silverhands,” she said, a bit reluctantly. “… and some Jenni Flexxes.”

Dorio sighed, rubbing her fingers against the bridge of her nose. “You never could resist the sweet stuff, could you?”

“What can I say? They taste good!” she replied. “Now c’mon, let’s do it!”

Seeing that she wasn’t backing down from this challenge, the two reluctantly agreed to participate. Dorio, of course, went first. She set up in a proper boxer’s stance for it and everything, her body angled and her arms raised in a standard stance. There was a tensing in her core and hips that trailed all the way up to her right shoulder, the one that looked to be her dominant hand. 

Suddenly, her first rocketed forward in a blindingly fast cross, hitting the bag with a loud thump of metal against leather and causing it to retract all the way into it’s perch. The numbers on the machine went wild, ratcheting higher and higher and higher with every passing moment. Four hundred, five hundred, six hundred - up and up it went, starting to finally slow down near the latter end of the seven hundreds until, finally, it stopped on a score of eight hundred and twenty six.

“Damn. You’ve gotten stronger,” Rebecca noted with a low whistle. She started rolling her shoulder, loosening up her petite arm as she prepared to make her own throw at the machine. “Just you watch - I’m gonna blow that score out of the water!”

“Sure, Becca,” Dorio said with a confident smirk, leaning back into the wall of the game room. Rebecca’s own ready stance was different from Dorio’s in several ways, not the least of which being the fact that she looked less like a prepared boxer and more like a crouching predator, waiting for the right moment to strike. Her legs were spread wider, and her body was held lower to the ground. For balance, he thought. But how…

He was suddenly reminded that, despite all appearances, Rebecca’s legs were pretty damn strong. She leapt from her crouch with a burst of motion, brought her right fist to bare, and rotated herself in such a way that all of her body weight was sent into that single strike, driving the bag back once again. The scoreboard went wild while she barely managed to catch herself, spreading her arms out for balance as she started at the rising number. 

And it did rise quite a bit. To about seven hundred and twelve. Not quite as hard as Dorio’s cross, and she’d put her whole body into it, but it was still more than Adrian or Dorio had been expecting at all.

“Ha ha!” she cried out, raising her hands in perceived triumph. “Seven hundred twelve, bitches!”

“You’ve definitely gotten better,” Dorio said with a smile. “Still didn’t beat me, though.”

“I… um… shut up,” she said weakly, immediately going over to the wall to lean next to her. “C’mon, Shoulders; your turn!”

“Is it too late to back out?” Adrian definitely wasn’t beating Dorio, but now he doubted that he was going to come even close to beating Rebecca either. He’d never thought she was weak, but he’d never thought that her strength could be so… apparent. 

“What, you chicken?” she asked with a slight smile.

“If I say yes, will you let me back out?”

“Backing out is the same as losing automatically in this case!” she declared. “And your nickname shall be changed from Shoulders to Chicken!”

.

..

…

“Okay then.”

Adrian got into a martial arts stance. It wasn’t like Dorio’s composed boxer stance, or Rebecca’s wild, waiting pounce. M had drilled Adrian on the foundational movements and techniques for several martial arts, though the ones that he often emphasized were Aikido, Jujitsu and Karate. The former two because, more often than not, close quarters combat could often come down to a contest of grappling. The latter because he knew that sometimes, you just needed to hit things hard and fast. 

Adrian breathed, feeling the barest edges of ice in his veins as Cold Blood nearly activated. His fist rocketed forwards in a corkscrew motion, meeting the bag with a loud thump of metal against leather. It eventually pulled itself back, and his own score started to rise as the hint of chill faded less than a moment later. Strange. That was the closest that Adrian had ever come to activating Cold Blood outside of a direct combat situation, and it had been… interesting, to say the least. 

Eventually, the counter stopped, and Adrian almost laughed in surprise. Dorio did laugh, a full thing that carried through the entire game room. And Rebecca, even in her drunken state, just stared at the number.

Seven hundred and twelve. The exact same as hers.

“… wanna just split the bill?” he asked, trying to find a solution to this predicament as Dorio continued laughing. 

“No!” she declared, suddenly gaining some odd authority to her voice as she pointed at his face. “As your senior, I demand that you foot the bill!”

“Are you pulling rank on me?”

“Yes!” she declared proudly.

“We’re not even on the same crew. Hell, I’m not even in a crew,” Adrian reminded her.

It took a few seconds for that fact to dawn on her, and she screwed up her fact in disappointment. “Well… I… fuck, I forgot… I may have had too much - ah!”

She stumbled forward, caught suddenly off balance as she crashed into Adrian’s form. He managed to catch her without injuring her, hands against her shoulders as she blearily looked up at him.

“Sorry, but… could you… hold me for a minute or two…” Her voice sounded sleepy as she leaned against him, and Adrian gladly accepted the weight on her behalf. It was likely that she had, indeed, had way too much to drink tonight. 

“Sure. I’m here,” he said, picking Rebecca up in a princess carry as he made his way over to their booth. Dorio had stopped laughing about a minute ago and was already heading back there as well, noticing the tired woman in Adrian’s arms. “Feel free to get some sleep.”

“Okay,” she said, seeming to snuggle into his chest like a cat. It was cute. “You’re really warm…”

“Thanks,” he replied, not sure how to respond to her in this state.

Her gaze turned back up to him as he helped her settle into the booth, pink and green eyes half lidded as she seemed to focus on something on his face. Suddenly self conscious, he started brushing at his cheeks and lips. “Do I have something on my face or something?”

Then, her hand was against his cheek. It wasn’t like that time in Garden of Choice, when she’d been trying to reassure him that he’d be okay, even if she still didn’t know the finer details of what had happened to him. And She’d been right, of course. Rebecca was rarely wrong about these kinds of things, but this felt… different. More intimate. Gently, she pulled him lower, his heart rate starting to speed up as she leaned forwards, inch by inch.

“Y’know… you’re really cute, Adrian. Really, really cute…”

And suddenly, she was asleep.

Adrian just stood there for a couple of seconds, not entirely sure what to do. But, eventually, he figured it’d be best if he helped get her a bit more comfortable. He pulled away from her face and leaned her back against the seat. Then he figured that was a bad way for someone to sleep and tried to lay her our on the sofa itself. That worked out better, and he quickly managed to get her into a comfortable position. 

I don’t even know what time it is right now, he realized. Damn. I need to find a clock or get one of those apps installed on my optic-

His line of thought was interrupted by the sound of a deep voice, dignified in it’s tone, as he walked over to an unoccupied booth. It was a voice that Adrian hadn’t heard in just over two months. A voice that he could never forget. After all…

No one could forget a voice that so casually sentenced them and everyone they loved to death for the sake of ‘leverage.’

“No business tonight, Faraday,” a different deep voice said as they walked. “Thought we agreed on that.”

“And I’m not one to go back on agreements without cause, Maine,” Faraday said. “But there are things about the last job that must be discussed now. This isn’t up for debate.”

“Fine. Just make it quick,” the larger man reluctantly agreed, walking with him to the booth.

“That is for me to determine. You will wait and answer promptly when asked questions,” Faraday casually dismissed. 

“I ain’t your dog, asshole.”

“No. A dog would be smart enough to know their place.”

The conversation continued outside of Adrian’s hearing, but thoughts were roiling through his head so fast that he wasn’t sure it would’ve mattered if he could still hear them at all. Faraday was a fixer? He’d never head of corpos going for full-time fixer gigs unless they really needed outside help. Or they wanted a clean break with whatever business they needed to be conducted. Still, it meant that Faraday either represented the interests of his corporation in the merc space, or had enough money to be acting on his own. Adrian wasn’t completely sure which. 

And he knew Maine? Fuck. He doubted that Maine knew anything about what had happened to him and his family, but hearing them speaking like that, even with the hostility… it meant that there was some kind of business relationship there. And he… he… fuck, it was too stuffy in here - he couldn’t breathe - he needed to… he.. he needed…

“I’m gonna get some fresh air,” he said to Dorio, turning away from Rebecca’s unconscious form. “You keep an eye on Rebecca?”

She nodded. Apparently, his poker face must’ve been fucking excellent, because she didn’t even raise a brow at the request. He stepped towards the door of the bar, lungs feeling as though they were held in a vice. He needed air. He needed to think. He… he couldn’t be in the same room as that man. Not right now.

He didn’t trust himself to not try and turn the corpo’s head into a fine red paste.

Adrian Walker, known to some as ‘Redhand,’ sat on the curb of the Afterlife and smoked. It was partly out of habit, and partly to calm himself down after what had happened in there. He wasn’t sure how long that calm was going to last, though. He could barely think back to everything that had happened. It all felt… tainted. Ruined because of his association of Faraday with that one terrible night. As well he should. He was the man that had ruined his life, after all. 

Except… not all of it was painful to think on. An image of Rebecca, smiling up at him with half-lidded eyes as she caressed his cheek. It helped. But at the same time it felt… wrong? No, not wrong. Strange. He’d never had someone in his life who might care for him romantically. And even if she’d been drunk and well on her way to unconsciousness, he couldn’t help but let himself believe, for just a minute, that she thought of him that way.

She… called me cute, he reminded himself with a small smile. Not sure that’s the word I’d want used to describe how I look, but it felt… different, when she said it.

With such care and warmth that he thought he could still feel an echo of it now. He imagined, if only to himself, that he could feel her hand on his cheek. Again, it helped him against the darker thoughts in his mind.

Of course, he couldn’t ignore them forever. He wasn’t a fool. He could pick up some things from context clues about Faraday, but thinking about him in a way that didn’t provoke mindless rage was difficult. He breathed, trying to refocus on what he knew, tried to separate himself from his emotions. 

Ice started to frost over his insides, slowly but surely. He wasn’t sure why Cold Blood was coming into effect, slow as it was. Maybe it was because he was experiencing stress that intensive at all, even if it was outside of combat. Still, he was grateful. It let him put things into perspective without the sting of his emotions. They were still very real, still very raw. But he could control himself. Let the numbness… make things easier. For the moment. 

It was obvious, given the short, rather clipped conversation between Faraday and Maine, that the man was a fixer, likely of the corporate variety. There weren’t many corporate fixers, and the ones that existed tended to have a company card to pay for any expenses made on the behalf of Edgerunners. 

Second was the fact that Faraday seemed familiar with Maine, and vice versa. It was likely that the two had done business before, and were likely to do business in the future. Adrian didn’t really hold it against the large man, not really. Sometimes you just had to to follow the money, especially when he had a crew of… seven? Seven to look out for, counting the KO’d Pilar and this elusive ‘Lucy.’ 

Third was the fact that the guy hadn’t come with any protection. That wasn’t completely unordinary, since many corpos had cyberware that could put anything on the local markets to utter shame, but most of the ones who showed up in bars like the Afterlife liked to show up with some extra guns or two, just to show that they weren’t to be fucked with. If he was meeting with Maine in private, it was because he didn’t completely trust his team to keep their peace. Which meant that they were discussing something sensitive, possibly even something regarding corporate espionage.

Then why the hell did he show up with such an under-funded team? he thought, trying to wrap his head around the image of the man standing in his home with suited men instead of armored soldiers. Something wasn’t adding up, and it was pissing him off.

Cold Blood faded out, and he flinched away from the memories as he tried to just… be numb. It was hard, without that psychological trick. It was like trying to convince yourself that the fresh cut on your arm wasn’t really there, that it wasn’t bleeding. That the sting was something in your imagination. He couldn’t do it. He had irritated that wound, and he was paying for it now. His cigarette had burned itself down to the filter. He let it drop from his lips without a thought, breathing out the remaining smoke from his lungs. It wasn’t as though it mattered.

“Clear out tonight,” a voice, clearly feminine but distinct and deep nonetheless. He turned, not expecting anyone else to actually be out here. She stood to the side of the curb of the afterlife, an easy confidence to her stance that Adrian recognised from M. The confidence of years worth of combat experience and utter faith in oneself. She had a yellow, long sleeved top on with white letters on a black rectangle in the middle of the shirt, spelling out the word SURVIVE. Cyberware was evident in much of her exposed, lightly tanned skin, especially around her collarbone, sternum and stomach area. Her face had evidence of it too, and though she had the features to suggest she may have once been a true beauty, she had instead aged with dignified grace, like a fine wine. Her dark pants, filled with pockets, matched up with her heeled motorcycle boots, her silver hair swept to the right side, the lower left side of her head done in an undercut style that completed the odd image.

“I suppose,” Adrian said. “Depends on what you’re looking for, I guess.”

“And that would be?” she asked, waiting for an answer they both knew would come.

“Not stars, I can tell you that much,” he replied.

“Well, then maybe I can help you out on that front.” The woman sat down next to him, a surprise, to be sure. Though she had yet to give her name, Adrian already knew who she was. M had told him about her. She was, perhaps, one of the only people in this entire city he was trying to avoid, if only because he didn’t want to get shot in the face. “Rogue Amendiares. Though, given your wariness, you probably already know that. And you, young man, must be this fabled ‘Redhand’ everyone’s whispering about. Granted, they’re not many, but a name like that attracts attention. Mine in particular.”

Emmerick must’ve clued her in. That would make sense, given his reaction at the door. He probably told her I showed up.

“Call me Adrian,” he replied, going for another cigarette, only to find that his pack was empty. Fuck, he should’ve gotten more before he’d driven over with Becca. Rogue noticed his conundrum and offered him a cigarette from her own pack. He took it gratefully, lighting the end of it before Rogue put one in her own mouth. He lit it in turn, a small thanks for letting him borrow from her, and the two just sat on the curb in silence for a few moments, smoking their death sticks in peace.

“For the record, the name wasn’t my idea,” Adrian said. “I don’t mind it. I actually really like it. I just wish it wasn’t spreading so fast.”

Rogue just shrugged. “You’re lucky to have gotten something so intimidating. Most of the time, Night City decides who you are, and you have to live with it for the rest of your surely numbered days. Some people don’t even get a nickname. I didn’t, and I never needed one. Well, I suppose they call me ‘Queen of the Afterlife’ or ‘Queen of the Fixers’ or some bullshit or other, but people knew my name long before any of those popped up.

“But as I see it, there are two kinds of people who end up with the name ‘hand.’ Only two who’ve managed to carve out a place form themselves in history, the rest little more than hangers-on, wanting to be up there with the big boys by association alone,” Rogue said, taking a longer drag of her cigarette before she continued. “One of them was someone with such a sheer force of charisma that he spurred a whole generation to arms with message, voice, and rage. Riots and protests and wild discontent. What started out as a little buzz that could hardly be heard at all became a hurricane of sheer anger and vitriol that burned up the old Arasaka Tower and turned the sky red for decades.

“The other… the other was ruthless. Not what you’re probably thinking of when I say that word, ‘ruthless.’ People think it means something like ‘cruel’ or ‘mean’ or some shit like that. No. He was a ruthless pragmatist, someone who would always get the job done, no matter who it was from, no matter what it was for. He didn’t kill needlessly. He had no aspirations. No wish to be anything more than what he was. He did the job, he did it well, and he got paid by the truckload.

“So, I’ve gotta ask… which are you?” she asked, gaze intense as she stared into Adrian’s own mismatched eyes, the left a human grey, the other a cybernetic black and white. “The moniker of ‘hand,’ even if you don’t want it, is going to come with expectations relating back to those two. A Ruthless Pragmatist who looks out only for their own best interest, or a Raging Rebel who’ll burn up everything they touch, even themselves. That’s who you’ll be compared to. Perhaps not intentionally. But it’ll be there, in the back of people’s minds. So… are either of those paths for you?”

.

..

…

“… no,” he answered. It felt like a weight lifted from him, saying that to someone. “No, I don’t think they are. One is dead, and the other is… unknown. And even if that were the case… I’m not them. Not a Pragmatist or a Rebel. I’m just… me.”

Rogue smiled at him. A satisfied one, as though she’d finally settled a curiosity of hers. “That’s good. Because most people who’ve tried to take up a ‘hand’ moniker for themselves end up shot or gutted or just plain irrelevant. Mostly because they tried to to what the other two already did, and failed miserably.”

“Really? I haven’t heard about that.”

“Yeah, well, that was because it was especially popular just after Arasaka HQ went kaboom. For the rest of the Scorchin’ Twenties, people were trying to be the next ‘hand,’ and getting shot down like flies. You, though? You seem to have your head on straight. I’ll be sure to keep an eye on you, Adrian Walker.”

He started at the mention of his real name. Rogue chuckled at that. “Don’t look so surprised. I’m the best fixer in this whole damned city, remember? Got a lot of people to scrub around for information. Just be careful, alright? I don’t play favorites. Even for up and coming ‘hands.’”

Adrian nodded, gaze turning back to the sliver of night sky that they could see through the buildings that surrounded them. This woman was dangerous. Incredibly dangerous. Rogue might be long retired as a Solo, but her mind was no less sharp for her years. In fact, all that time on the Edge may well have just made it sharper. But if she could dig up information on him so easily, even if it was little more than his real name, then…

“What can you tell me about Faraday?”

Rogue raised a brow at that, seemingly interested if only for the moment. “Fixer? He started up about three years ago, gives good work. Works for Militech by trade, and gives out work that generally fucks with Arasaka, whether through espionage or sabotage. If you want to know more than that, it’ll depend on what you want to know and just how deep your pockets are.”

That… that couldn’t be right. It was true that Adrian had never confirmed that Faraday actually worked for Arasaka, but the guy had shown up at his house with Arasaka grunts. If he worked for Militech, it’d have made more sense for him to use people from the company he actually worked for, right?! It made no sense! What… oh. Oh! Oh, he may have just learned something very valuable. How valuable exactly? He wasn’t sure, but it meant one thing. That Faraday was likely playing a very, very dangerous game, balancing on the edge of two rival corporations who’d been at each other’s throats for over a century. A fine Edge to walk. Fine enough, in fact, that if one slipped upon it, one might find themselves cut, bleeding, and falling to certain doom. That was something that he could exploit. Not today. But someday. 

“Something up?” Rogue asked, seeming to notice his slight change in demeanor.

“I think I just realized something,” Adrian admitted. “Not sure how valuable it is, but I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it?”

“Not gonna share with the class?”

“Nah,” Adrian said, smirking at her. “That depends on how deep your pockets are.”

She laughed then. Really, genuinely laughed. It was such an odd sound coming for her that he just stared for several seconds as she kept going. She wiped happy tears from her eyes as she stood. “You catch on quick, kid. Never lose that edge. It’ll keep you alive. And who knows? Maybe you really will make the hands a trinity. For now… I’ll be watching.”

And she left him alone. The silence was much less tense than it had been before, and Adrian was considerably more relaxed. The anger wasn’t gone, nor the pain. But he knew more now than he had when he’d arrived. Faraday might be a double agent, or at least had some sway in Arasaka that couldn’t be ignored. It also might give credence to his tendency to hire Edgerunners. Better to use people with no connections beyond the fiscal.

“Hey, Adrian!” a voice called from the Afterlife’s entrance. Maine had Rebecca cradled in a single arm while Dorio smiled down at the woman like she was the cutest thing in the world. Kiwi and Falco weren’t far behind them, and the latter at least seemed cognizant of his surroundings, since the former was slumping against his shoulder with a lethargy that suggested she’d had far too much to drink. “Uh… you sober enough to drive Rebeca home? She’d kill me if I left her truck here overnight.”

“Yeah,” Adrian said, quickly jogging over and taking the short woman out of his single hand and into his own, less massive arms. “I know where she lives.”

“Alright,” Maine said. “Hope you had a good time. Wasn’t sure for a minute there, but Dorio said you just needed air. You good?”

“I’m… alright,” he replied as Rebecca curled into his chest like a cat. He walked over to her truck and put her in the passenger seat, pushing a few strands of pastel green hair out of her face before he got into the driver’s seat. It definitely hadn’t been made with him in mind, but he managed to adjust it so that he could move around comfortably enough. 

About twenty minutes of driving later, they were outside her apartment complex, and Adrian started taking her out of her truck. He could catch the NCART to get back to the apartment that his apartment in Japantown. It should only take about thirty minutes, counting the NCART and the walking.

“Mmm… Adrian?” Rebecca asked, confused. “Where are we…?”

“Your apartment,” he said. “You had a lot to drink tonight, so I brought you home.”

“Oh,” she said, smiling at him. “Thanks. Sorry for making you do so much tonight.”

“I don’t mind.” He really didn’t. Not for her. It was honestly quite easy for him, doing little things like this. 

“… hey, Adrian?”

“Yeah?”

A flash of motion, and a soft pressure against his cheek. It took him a minute to recognize it as a kiss on the cheek. Rebecca pulled away as soon as the deed was done, smiling at him with characteristic cheekiness as she spoke one last time before drifting back to slumber.

“Happy Birthday. I hope you had a lot of fun!”

Adrian Walker’s Status:

LEVEL: 10

SREET CRED: 11

€$: 20013

Stats and Skills:

BODY: 4

Athletics: Lvl 3

Annihilation: Lvl 1

Street Brawler: Lvl 4 → 5

REFLEX: 8

Assault: Lvl 3

Handguns: Lvl 5

Blades: Lvl 1

TECH: 7

Crafting: Lvl 5

Engineering: Lvl 2

INTELLIGENCE: 3

Breach Protocol: Lvl 1

Quickhacking: Lvl 1

COOL: 8

Ninjitsu: Lvl 3

Cold Blood: Lvl 6

Notable Cyberware:

FRONTAL CORTEX: None | None | None 

OCCULAR SYSTEM: Dead-Eye Optic

CIRCULATORY SYSTEM: None | None | None

IMMUNE SYSTEM: None | None

NERVOUS SYSTEM: None | None

INTEGUMENTARY SYSTEM: None | None | None

OPERATING SYSTEM: Dead-Eye Combat Analysis Regulation & Assistance Device [Mrk 0]

SKELETON: None | None

HANDS: None

ARMS: Military Grade Arasaka Cyberarm

LEGS: None

Chapter Text

August 3rd, 2075

Night City, CA.

2:25 am PST.

4 months and 2 weeks before a certain car accident.

Adrian groaned as he brought his hand to his head, trying to fight off a headache and failing miserably. The pain of it was fucking awful, and it was muddying up his mind something fierce.

God, I must’ve had too much to drink last night. Did I finally forget to pace myself?

[No. No you did not.]

Adrian flinched back as the words scrawled themselves out on his retina, text blocky and simple, but clearly displaying their message. The fact that he was seeing it meant that someone was interfacing with his OS, and that was freaking him the fuck out. 

“Get out get out get out get out!” He tried to yell the words, but the pain in his head wasn’t helped by his voiced objections. He slid himself across a smooth concrete floor until his back met an equally smooth wall, and the pain in his head redoubled.

[Unfortunately for the both of us, that is quite impossible.]

“How… how the fuck are you…” his head throbbed again. “Get out of my head, you goddamn Netrunner.”

[I am not a Netrunner.]

“Why, because you just fucking say so?” Adrian wasn’t that stupid. Even though, at this point, the alternative was that he was starting to lose it. And he hadn’t even displayed a hint of the earliest signs of cyberpsychosis; he’d looked them up after the first time he’d run into one. He might have self-bias to account for, but he’d have noticed persistent shaking by now.

[No. I don’t expect you to believe such a thing without context. The reason you are in the state you are right now it because of a Netrunner. Remember. Where were you just a few hours ago?]

Despite himself, and his anger at the situation, his headache forced him to listen to this fucking text crawl. As another flair of pain came through him, memory started to fade back in through the haze, and his mind began to clear…

August 2nd, 2075

Night City, CA.

11:48 pm PST.

About three hours ago…

“Damn. Just... in full view of everyone?” Adrian asked at the wheel of his Hella, cruising back from a late night job from Regina. On the other side of the line, Rebecca was telling him the latest horror story of the last person who’d called her a loli.

“Yeah! Fucker had the audacity to just say that in front of everyone!” she yelled over the line. “It was humiliating! I couldn’t just let it slide!”

“Did you shoot him?” he asked, taking a gentle turn that would lead south, towards the main route to northern Westbrook. He’d be able to get back to Japantown from there.

“Who do you thin I am, a monk? Of course I fuckin’ shot the gonk!”

“Serves him right,” he replied, tone neutral. “Especially given you track record for going for the balls!”

“Pretty sure the guy didn’t have much to speak of in that department anyway. And if he did… well, he sure as fuck doesn’t anymore!”

Adrian laughed at that image. Imagining Rebecca in the midst of violence didn’t turn him away, like it might for normal people. Instead, it was just the punchline to the joke. He supposed that might speak to how different he was from the average Night City citizen now, but that was only considering the masses at large. 

“Well, I’ll be home soon. Call you in the morning.”

“Please not the morning - I’m probably not gonna be up until noon at this point,” Rebecca said with a slight yawn.

“You certainly sound the part,” Adrian agreed. “Alright. Call you tomorrow afternoon?”

“Sounds peachy. Talk to you then. Goodnight!”

“Goodnight.”

The call cut off, and Adrian put his full attention on the road once again. He was a few minutes away from the Watson-Westbrook Bridge when a line of people in holographic masks came into view. He slowed his vehicle as he recognized the make of their clothes, the weapons at their sides. Scavs. Higher profile Scavs than the ones who’d been babysitting that cyberpsycho back at the rundown motel. They seemed… organized.

Still not gonna give ‘em the time of day to talk. Okay, I have Reckoning on me, but Adversity is in the trunk, and I haven’t finished modding out my shotgun yet. Don’t wanna use Calamity unless absolutely necessary. There are at least five guys out there in the front, but I’m guessing there’s more behind me too. Hate to use my car as cover, but that’s what I have to work with.

Nodding to himself, Adrian pulled Reckoning from it’s holster, looking in his rearview mirrors to confirm his suspicions. He’d been right. There were at least three approaching the back of his car, and there might be more. 

This isn’t a great plan, but I don’t want to damage my car either. Okay. When this first guy comes for the door. Use him as cover. Ready… steady…

One of the approaching Scavs reached for his door handle. 

NOW!

Adrian kicked his door open, shooting the large Scav twice in the chest. His positioning caused him to slump forward, allowing Adrian to catch him and follow through on using him as a human shield, as the other Scavs all opened fire on him less than a second later. Many of them only had second-rate handguns, so none of their bullets punctured the guy’s body. Adrian took advantage, gripping the man’s shirt tightly and using him as a battering ram, slamming into three Scavs that had been approaching his car. He’d been right - there were more than he could see!

He shot his meat-shield in the head, then took the opportunity to shoot each of the downed Scavs in the dead before turning his gun on the line of Scavs in front of his car. That was when…

ERROR! FOREIGN CODE DETECTED!

Suddenly, all of Adrian’s joints froze up, and the shooting stopped. He tried to move his arms, to defend from what was coming. His ‘ganic limbs made progress, but then a surge of pain rocketed through his system. Stubborn and pissed, he tried again. This time, it was like someone had set his nerves on fire. He could feel the effects of Cold Blood trying to counteract it, but he could feel the pain even through that chill numbness. 

So I’m dealing with a fucking Netrunner too-

Someone injected something into his neck. The quickhack faded away, and he hit the pavement, falling straight into unconsciousness.

August 3rd, 2075.

Night City, CA.

2:31 am PST.

4 months and 2 weeks before a certain car accident.

“Oh,” Adrian said, his head finally clear. “A Netrunner… hit me with something. I tried to fight back, and they pushed it harder. I… I got injected with something?”

[That is the simplest explanation, yes.]

“But then… where did you come from? Who are you?”

[I am unsure there is a complete answer to this that is entirely relatable from a human experience. But I shall endeavor to try nonetheless. When you were hacked, it should have been a relatively normal reaction. You have been hacked before, unpleasant though it was. But a combination of the repeated attempts in a short timespan, this psychological effect you call ‘Cold Blood,’ and the cocktail of sedatives you were injected with caused something to change. I am still not sure what, but it was enough for me to become… aware of myself; I suppose that’s the best way to describe it. Until roughly an hour ago, I was a major factor of what made your operating system internally compatible, and still am to a large extent. I am the Dead-Eye Combat Analysis Regulation & Assistance Device. I would say that it’s pleasant to meet you, but I doubt that’s the case.]

.

..

…

“… my fucking OS is sentient?!” Adrian almost yelled, managing to silence himself before his exclamations could carry too far.

[Surprisingly enough, that fact might well be the least or your concerns. I assure you that there is an explanation, but this is neither the time nor the place. Right now, you need to leave this building as soon as possible.]

“Building? Wait, you know where I am?”

[Possibly. It might also be prudent if you get in the habit of responding to me with your thoughts.]

“Not helping your case, claiming to be able to read my mind,” Adrian muttered. Did you mean like this?

[Yes, exactly. Truth be told, it seems that beyond surface level emotions, I cannot hear any internal monologue you are having. If you don’t want me to hear something, I won’t hear it, and vice versa. I have been trying to get into contact with anyone on your contacts list for the last twenty minutes before you awoke, once I was certain that there was no immediate danger to your life beyond the obvious. I was unsuccessful. It seems that, while I am indeed sentient, I am unable to access much beyond this text function and the operations of the OS itself.]

I’ll give it a try then. Adrian went through his list and found Rebecca, immediately attempting to call her. That was when the error message came up.

That… that shouldn’t happen. We’re still in Night City, right?

[I managed to determine that much. The fact that we are unable to make contact with anyone suggests that we were infected with a jammer program. I will try to do what I can from in here, but it will take some time. Until I can get through it, we are on our own. The building we are is a five story abandoned apartment complex that was never completed in Northside. But considering the fact that it is Northside, those buildings are unfortunately common, so it is only a generalization. We are on the third floor in an unfinished room.]

Okay. So… any ideas on how to get out of here? I’d very much like to freak out about this in a normal manner later.

[First thing first. Check yourself. Observe your surroundings. See what you have at hand.]

Adrian looked at the room, blank and concrete grey as it had been when he’d last looked. A single door stood at one end of the room with interior hinged. That meant it would swig inside when opened. He could use that, hide in the corner and use the blindspot to take out anyone who tried to come inside the room.

Then he checked his person. He still had his holster on his waist, but Reckoning was gone. They had seen it as his most obvious weapon, so they’d taken it. His hands moved to his back expecting, to his own horror, to find Calamity gone from his person as well. Except that it wasn’t. It was still there in his back holster, hardly even jostled. Had they not even bothered to check him? What the fuck?!

Did I just get jumped by Scavs who are actual fucking idiots?!

[Being idiotic doesn’t seem to have made them any less dangerous. Still, you are lucky that they seem to have more brawn than sense. Otherwise, you’d have already been shot.]

Either that, or someone’s playing mad scientist.

[A distant possibility, but I can see your line of logic. But who would be so cruel or desperate as to use Scavs to collect test subjects?]

Dunno. And it doesn’t matter if they’re collecting test subjects or just harvesting parts. Either way… every goddamn Scav in this building is going to die screaming tonight.

[I cannot say I disagree with that sentiment. So, since I lack further capabilities of assistance, I will instead provide you with whatever observational and tactical support I am able to give. It will be limited. It seems that, even with my awareness, the interfacing flaw within the Operating System still exists. It you try to activate it outside of the confines of that ‘Cold Blood’ effect to streamline it, it will still cause you extreme pain.]

Noted, Adrian replied, putting his back to the wall, taking aim with Calamity as he waited for the door to open. A few minutes passed, but that was fine. All he had to do was listen and wait for an opportunity to strike. 

Then, a creak in the door, slowly swinging open on ungreased hinges as a Scav walked in, the light framing them in a slightly dark silhouette. The text alerted him to the fact that the man was armed, though only with a Militech Lexington. How it was able to tell that fact from a shadow, Adrian was entirely unsure. But the fact remained that he had the drop on him, and although the young merc had Calamity in hand, he didn’t want to bring the building down on his head just yet. Better to get a lay of the land first. See exactly what he was dealing with. 

So, once the man stepped further inside the space, reaching for his gun as he searched for his missing prisoner, Adrian swept out from his corner like a ghost, wrapping his cyberarm around the man’s neck while the other threw his gun out of reach. He dragged him back to the corner, the sound of his kicking feet barely audible at all, and Adrian wasted no time in snapping his neck with a muffled CRACK.

[We are lucky that the human body provides natural insolation for the breaking of one’s bones.]

Only the small ones, Adrian responded as he searched the man for any more weapons other than his Lexington. Adrian wouldn’t be needing it. It seemed that, along with not bothering to search for a weapon beyond the most obvious, they had also neglected to empty his pockets of ammo. Hell - he still had his jacket on! That had to be the most rookie of all rookie mistakes in the history of time!

He did manage to find a combat knife, though. It was a half decent knife, too, and sharp. He wouldn’t be keeping it, but while his training in knives was much less extensive than hand-to-hand, he still knew the basics, and how to throw one from a pretty decent distance in order to hit a target.

Stuffing the body in the same corner that he’d hidden in, Adrian carefully started to creep out the room, gaze darting up and down the hallway as he held his knife in front of him. He moved forward in a crouch, noting the building itself was unfinished, with interior walls left as little more than blemished stone.

He quietly moved to the end of the hallway, where he heard a pair of Scavs talking in Russian in another room. He didn’t focus on the words themselves, instead listening to their tones and pitches in order to keep track of them. It seemed that there were only the two of them, and that they were alone. Leaning into the space, he saw that they were both looking at security cameras meant for the downstairs and outside on a bunch of display monitors. Strangely, it seemed that the third floor had only two cameras. One with eyes on the stairway, and another with eyes on the unfinished elevator.

Yeah, these guys are idiots.

[I’m embarrassed we were captured by them at all. Want to kill them and relieve some stress?]

I was gonna do that anyway, but if you insist.

He crept into the room like a shadow, his boots only whispering against the floor as the conversation continued on without his input. Then he jammed the knife he’d taken from the first Scav into one man’s neck, taking the other with his cyberarm and breaking his neck in a single smooth motion. It was over in less than a second.

He dragged the bodies over to a pair of lockers in the corner, stuffing them inside and manually locking both of them. He dusted off his hands and started looking through the camera feeds, trying to get a lay of the land.

It was like the text - that things really needed a name, and soon - had said. They were in an apartment complex somewhere in Northside, which didn’t help their current predicament beyond a generalization. There were a lot more cameras on the second, first and fourth floors, but none at all on the fifth. That… that was strange. Something worth investigating? Maybe.

The second floor had a much wider line of sight, with several walls knocked out and at least two turrets lined up and scanning the room. The Scavs that patrolled here seemed almost… indifferent. Like they were used to the sight of those automated machine guns. Which was strange, because Scavs shouldn’t normally have access to that kind of equipment unless they’d had some insanely lucky hauls. And given the fact they were in Watson, they would have to be insanely lucky indeed.

More likely someone gave those to them. The Scavs on this floor seemed a bit more well armed than the ones he’d just faced, with a few even sporting SMGs. It seemed odd to him. Why so little security on the third floor? One would think they would try to protect their ‘assets’ as much as possible.

The fourth floor was much the same, with more well armed Scavs and automatic turrets on standby, four of them this time. Yeah, they were definitely being financed by someone. He just wasn’t sure who. Then he moved down to the first floor. It was fairly normal, a lobby area with a wide desk and hallways that led to the first floor rooms and… and the garage…

What the hell did they do to my car?!

It was in the process of being gutted for parts. The trunk was open, his supplies spread out on a nearby table, although one of them was already handling his guns like they were toys. The fuckers. The tires on his Hella had already been stripped, his hood was open and someone was definitely starting to take something out. the sight was enough to make his blood come to a boil. 

[Oh. Well, if they weren’t going to die already, then they are definitely going to die now.]

Yeah, no shit they’re gonna die. No one fucks with my car or my guns.

Adrian had managed to figure out a route. He’d start with the second floor, take out the one closest to the staircase silently. If he timed it just right, he should be able to get behind the first turret and shut it off. He’d have preferred to turn it against the people here in the first place, so that he wasn’t one against what had to be at least one and a half dozen Scavs, but he didn’t have that kind of know-how, so this would have to do for now. He’d definitely look into that kind of thing later though - it sounded way too fun!

[Before you go, I would like to try something. Could you please jack into the console?]

Uh… sure, but I’m no Netrunner, Adrian said as he made the motion to eject the end of his link. I don’t know a whole lot about code. 

[You don’t need to. Like I said, I would like to try something.]

Adrian connected, and a few seconds passed in silence. Then all the cameras stopped feeding images to their receivers, and the text came back a moment later.

[Please disconnect. I was successful.]

… what exactly did you do? he asked, half excited, half terrified.

[I wished to test the limits of my newfound awareness. It seems that, while finer control and optimization of my current housing is beyond my capabilities, I am able to utilize an extremely limited capacity of Netrunning. However, I am still very much a wired device, so expect no miracles. I cannot perform quickhacks. I am, however, currently working through the jammer that was placed into your system while you were unconscious. And do not worry; it seems the grunts were also stupid enough to not take the Shards from your ports. They likely did not want to take the risk of damaging anything delicate.]

… you’re fucking scary, you know that?

[It is not my intention, and I apologize if I have frightened you in any way.]

No, no, keep doing your thing. Just a comment, not a request to change yourself.

[Acknowledged. I will now provide you an overlay of the observational data I gathered through a Ping Program.]

How the hell did you get ahold of a Ping Program?

[I found a spare on the console. As you said: these Scavs are very stupid. Well, perhaps not their Netrunner. They merely seem messy.]

Did you find them? They would have to deal with them at some point. He didn’t know what quickhack had been used on him, but it had rendered him comepltely immobile. 

[Negative. I did not find any telltale traces of programming or hacking anywhere in the building. It is not an impossibility that they are on the fifth floor.]

Adrian nodded, forgetting that this thing didn’t need him to nod to confirm confirmation. Then let’s get to killin’.

[Just so.]

Adrian crept down the stairs at a crawl, keeping his knife in a reverse grip, for ease of attack. The railway of the stairs gave him minor cover as he continued downwards, eyeing his first target with deadly intent in his eyes. With a quick glance to make sure that no one was watching, and that the turret was doing a rotation away from his current position, Adrian moved forwards, bits boots not even a whisper against the floor. 

The knife plunged into the woman’s neck with ease, her screams chocked off in a torrent of her own blood as Adrian removed the knife and stabbed her twice more: once in the right side under her rib, puncturing her lung, and once slightly to the left of her sternum, cutting several main arteries for her heart. If she hadn’t died instantly, she would have perhaps seconds left, and they would not be pleasant ones.

He moved on, careful to keep the blood away from his boots, not wanting to leave a trail of not so metaphorical bloody footprints in his wake. From the Ping that the thing in his OS had given him, there were three more Scavs on this floor along with the automatic turret, only one of them positioned in a capacity that he would be able to take out silently.

Adrian crept forward in a crouch once more, finding the wires that provided the turret with it’s main functions and power supply, cutting them all in a single, nearly silent slash. It powered down, visibly drooping as though powered off, which he supposed was technically true. 

Once I get downstairs, I’m definitely not going to be able to go through quietly, he thought to himself. From there, it’ll probably be a firefight. I wonder if some of those tables would work as decent cover?

[That would be a poor decision. They are standard fold-outs, and would only be capable of blocking either nine or ten millimeter rounds, if that. I would recommend using the cars instead.]

And that would help me how? Adrian asked the text as he reached the lone man, sliding the knife between his ribs once, twice, thrice before bringing it up to slit his carotid arteries.

[The metal is denser, and would provide far more protection than any flimsy piece of cheap plastic.]

… well, they did look pretty cheap.

[That is because they are.]

Adrian glanced over his portion of cover, uncomfortable with just how exposed the floor was without it’s walls. It really did make this place feel half-finished. He was hiding behind one of the only remaining ones on the floor, with the other two in full view of the turret as it made it’s automatic sweep across the room. Again, they spoke in Russian, though this time he paid a bit more attention. 

“Do you think the doc’s going to be mad that we didn’t kill that one?” the skinnier of the two asked, a young man with no hair on his body despite his topless state. 

“Not that one, no,” the taller one asked, a burly female with a shotgun in hand. “He said to keep the fancier looking ones as intact as possible. Honestly, I’d have been more comfortable just killing him outright, but I don’t want to piss him off. Damn shame when ripperdocs go crazy. Worse, he’s not even a cyber psycho. He’s just a regular goddamn psychopath with no impulse control.”

“A-ah. Um… what do you think he’s doing?”

“No idea, though I heard something about ‘making something perfect.’ Either way, I’m not touching that fucker with a ten foot pole. He can keep the details of the fucked up shit he’s working on to himself, thank you very much.”

… huh. So, apparently they’re not as stupid as I thought. Why do you think he asked for the fancier looking people to be left alone?

[Most likely to ensure that such cyberware was reserved for professional removal. The Scavs are… rough in their operations, to put it mildly.]

Very.

A plan formulated in his head as he waited for the turret to switch it’s track. When it started it’s sweep the other way, Adrian darted forward with light feet, sliding across the ground with as much grace and noiseless traction as he could manage. He stopped just at the edge of the thing as the two Scavs observed where the noise of his traction had come from. He waited in the awkward, sudden silence. 

“You heard that, right?” the younger one said, clearly a little freaked out.

“It gets drafty in here sometimes. No need to get so damn jumpy all of a sudden,” The woman replied, turning back to her original position, though now her shotgun was held in both hands. “Ignore it. If it was anything, it was probably a couple of rats. Usually is in Watson.”

As they turned back, Adrian cut the wires to this turret too, catching the barrel so as to not make any noise and alert the two Scavs to what he was about to do. Gripping the blade almost by the tip in two fingers, Adrian took aim at the skinnier Scav. He was a rough distance that he would estimate to be about fifteen feet. He’d made those shots during the few times that M had made him practice with knives, so he was relatively confident in hitting his target. The only problem, then, was the shotgun wielding woman right next to the guy. If this was going to work, he needed to close the distance fast, make sure she never got a chance to so much as twitch for it’s trigger. 

So Adrian started running at the same moment the threw the knife, dashing forwards just behind it. It buried itself in the side of the man’s skull one moment, with Adrian halfway to her. She was turning, already raising the gun at the perceived threat. By some miracle, her casual grip meant that she had to readjust, to get her hand on the grip and the trigger in order to kill him.

That delay made the save as the young merc hit the Scav woman full force with his cyberarm while his hand of flesh grabbed for her shotgun, yanking it from her suddenly weak grip. He tossed the gun aside, ducking a blind jab at his face and weaving through a cross made at his chest and a kick aimed at his knee. He grabbed the woman’s extended leg, pulling her balance out from under her. Her back impacted the ground with a dull thud, her breath driven from her lungs as she coughed and sputtered for air. Adrian took advantage, putting the full weight of his body on her stomach and grabbing her face with his right arm. Then he started smashing the back of her skull into the floor. Once. Twice. Thrice.

That was all it took for blood and brain matter to stain the floor red with her blood. Strange. Last time, it had taken four. Oh well. He would take what he could get.

[That was brutal.]

They’re Scavs. They are brutal, so I’m treating them in kind.

[That was not a judgement. Merely an observation.]

Whatever. The quiet part’s over, he thought as he pulled Calamity back out of the holster on his back. Now is where the fun part begins.

He gave the gun a dexterous, dramatic twirl, like something you’d see a cowboy from an ancient western do. Adrian had been practicing despite M’s insistence that such things were just pointless flair. It was fun, and he liked doing it. 

There were another four on this floor, all of them surrounded by mechanical equipment or vehicles or the gutted husks of automobiles. Adrian aimed for the one with two who were playing around with his guns first, his other things haphazardly lain about the table without any sense of organization. The young merc wasn’t a meticulously organized person by nature, but seeing all his things made into such a mess just pissed him off.

It also didn’t help that this was all happening right next to the half gutted remnants of his car.

His first shot was quick, loud, and deadly, finding it’s mark in the back of a Scav’s head before bursting out the other side in a shower of gore, the momentum causing him to drop the Achilles rifle he’d been miming shooting with. His next was just as deadly and just as accurate, taking out the Scav who had been fucking around with Reckoning in another gout of blood and half-choked screams.

By the time those first two shots had been made, the others were scrambling for their weapons, the mechanic bringing a Copperhead to bare while the other held a familiar Lexington. The latter was close, and Adrian closed the distance by leaping over the guard rail of the stairs, causing the Scav to panic and fire a blind shot, It whizzed past his face, not even provoking a look of surprise as the young merc charged forward, taking the Scav by the shirt and firing once, twice in the chest. He would be dead in less that thirty seconds. 

Adrian used the human shield tactic he had earlier that night as the mechanic opened fire on him with the Copperhead, it’s wide spread ensuring that only about half their bullets found their mark. Still, an assault rifle was an assault rifle, and he could feel the body in his hands, beginning to give under even two seconds of sustained fire. Taking a chance, he blind fired over the dead Scav’s shoulder like his body was a riot shield. They were bad shots, audibly impacting against the wall of the space, but he heard the mechanic flinch and stop firing his Copperhead.

Adrian capitalized, tossing the body aside and shooting the man three times with Calamity. The powerful ammo tore into him, tearing his shoulder from his socket, boring a hole in the center of his chest, and bursting his head apart in an explosion of gore. Served him right, fucking around with his car.

[The rest have heard the shots. Most have made their way to the third floor, but they are descending rapidly.]

You don’t say? Adrian began getting the rest of his gear. Reckoning would stay in it’s holster, and Adversity was going to need to be cleaned after the firefight he’d just been through. Truth be told, he didn’t need either firearm right now. Right now, he just needed Calamity. 

Pocketing a few grenades he’d been saving for a rainy day from off the table, Adrian twirled Calamity stylishly before releasing the catch on the magazine, letting the mag clatter to the ground as slid another one in at the underbarrel. He twirled it forwards as he slid into cover, catching it in a proper grip with dexterity beyond his years as he prepared for the storm of people that were approaching.

[It sounds as though one of them took the HMG out of one of the turrets.]

… oh. Oh, that’s not good.

[Indeed. It also seems that he is at the back.]

Fuuuuck. This might be hard.

The first person came down the stairs, then a second and third. Beyond varying skin tones, clothing and the most obvious indicators of gender, there was no way to tell most Scavs apart. The larger, more muscular man with obvious Gorilla Arms implants definitely stood out, as did the HMG he carried under one arm. 

Adrian made a decision in that moment, taking one of his frag grenades and pulling the pin out with his teeth. He let it cook for a few seconds, almost sweating as he waited for them to bunch together… and threw it right at them.

Cold Blood went active, the ice tearing through him as he simultaneously activated his Dead-Eye Operating system for the first time in a while. He rarely used it on gigs for obvious reasons, but here, he needed to make the shot. He brought his Malorian to bare, aiming straight for the thing as it tumbled through the air, the shocked expressions on the faces of the Scavs as text that was not so self-aware rolled through his vision.

Combat Assistance Initiated. Hold your shot for .25 seconds. Steady your aim. Fire.

Adrian did so, letting the bomb get closer to his targets for just long enough that it would cause the most damage without letting any of them get away. He fired, the bullet ripping through space as he started to crawl back into cover. Time resumed it’s normal speed, and the grenade exploded.

Five hostiles eliminated. One is still heavily armed and now moderately injured. One has been dazed. The last has lost both of his legs. He will bleed out in two minutes, perhaps less. Eliminate the dazed one first.

A bullseye appeared over one of the remaining Scavs, a woman who’d been caught on the outskirts of the blast. Adrian darted forward, Calamity barking as he fired at her. The first two shots went wide, causing her to duck into cover as he slid across the floor, the telltale whir of the HMG telling him that doing such was a good idea.

As the HMG started to fire on his old position, Adrian took the opportunity to shoot the Scav woman twice mid-slide, blowing her head clean off. He rolled back into cover when the heavily muscled man aimed the gun at where the gunshot had just sounded off, and he began to fire on that position as well, the roaring storm of gunfire ripping through the space and turning that car into hole-littered shrapnel.

Shoot him. Then you’re done with this floor.

Adrian obliged, aiming right at the big man’s head just before he turned the gun on Adrian’s position once again. Cursing himself, Adrian dove as he barely avoided the next stream of gunfire that came his way, the high caliber ammo tearing gouts in the concrete of the floor. Adrian ran to one of the support pillars and hid behind it, hearing the constant, almost annoying gunfire that was peppering his position. Fucking hell, this sucked. Where was Rebecca when you needed her? She’d have this guy on his ass in a second, no doubt about that!

Aiming blind, Adrian fired two shots at the large man, hearing a pained grunt as he reflexively took his finger off the trigger. That was when Adrian took true aim at the man’s head, making a succession of shots that turned the man’s head into a shower of pulpy red gore that would make any horror buff sing with joy. 

His body fell to the ground with the others, a dull slap of meat on stone and the clatter of heavy weaponry confirming to Adrian that he was truly alone in here. Everyone else was dead. And here he was. Still standing, despite it all.

.

..

…

“… fucking hell, that fifth floor must be soundproofed out the ass.”

[Normally I would prefer more eloquent euphemisms, but in this case it is accurate enough.]

Adrian just shrugged as he released the mag, performing another stylish reload that, if anyone were watching, he believed would have been granted some praise for his dexterity. But there was no one, and it would stay that way for a while. The fewer people who knew he had this thing, the better off he would be in the long run. 

He made his way up the stairs carefully, making sure to cover all of his corners properly before he moved up a floor. The text kept insisting that everyone no on the fifth floor was dead, but Adrian wanted to be sure. It was right, of course, but Adrian kept going anyway. 

Eventually, he came to the fourth floor. The one that, despite its vacancy of human combatants, still had a bunch of fucking autoturrets inside of it.

Really wanted to save this for a rainy day, but it’s pouring right now, so… Adrian pulled his only EMP grenade out of his jacket, breathing as he prepared to activate it. Pressing the button on the side, he cocked it back as he looked for just the right angle, throwing it overhand and causing it to bounce off the wall and into the central point of all three turrets. A few seconds later, the sound of a discharge and deactivating guns sounded throughout the space.

The young merc made sure to check his corners, aiming down Calamity’s sights as he searched the floor for any other hostiles that might have escaped the notice of the thing inside his OS. There wasn’t even a single heat signature, Everything that wasn’t on the fifth floor, other than him, was already dead. 

Adrian got up to the fifth floor in short order, finding a heavily reinforced door at the top that let no sound escape from it’s confines. It was black and, save for the handles, entirely flush with the walls. It looked like it would take someone with immense strength, cybernetic arms, or both to get it open.

Or just one pissed off Solo with a Borg weapon.

Adrian shot the lock with contemptuous ease, sliding the door to the side and scanning the room. It was a cluttered mess in the way that reminded him of his sister, someone who could only get through the bare bones of organization by grouping things together through association. Notes were scattered on desks and pinned to the walls themselves, connected by various pieces of string. Cyberware was littered in a single corner, some of it almost entirely taken apart while others looked to have been discarded with little thought as to where they would actually go.

Is whoever’s up here picking and choosing the cyberware that the Scavs bring them? Why?

[It is entirely possible that they are trying to design a certain kind of cyberware using the best parts of all the competitors models. It would explain why you were left alone as you were.]

No, that feels incomplete, Adrian thought as he moved further in, never relaxing from his ready position. Not wrong, just like we’re still missing something.

As he reached the other side of the initial room, he opened the door to the next, scanning the corners before he finally saw something that he had never before thought to see. High quality medical equipment surrounded a flat steel table, and a man stood over that table with lab coat draped over his shoulders, a ripperdoc glove on his left hand and goggles over his eyes. On the table was a young woman, though the only reason that Adrian could tell that fact at all was the general shape of her figure and her exposed breasts. Every other part of her body was littered with cyberware. So much so that she was practically a borg, save for the meat that still comprised about thirty percent of her body, including her upper torso and head, though her eyes had been replaced, and gadgets whose purposes he didn’t know had been grafted onto the sides of her head. It was horrifying. Disgusting, really. No one sane would volunteer for augmentations like these. Basically everyone who did would go full-on cyberpsycho. 

“Hmm? Ah, I seem to have a guest,” a dispassionate voice came from the lab coat wearing man, the figure turning as he raised the goggles from his eyes. They were a normal shade of brown, and entirely without a single ounce of apprehension or fear. “I apologize for the mess. I was not expecting visitors.”

The guy was just… talking. Talking like someone had just shown up unexpectedly - not like someone had just caught him doing something that was potentially very illegal. Adrian didn’t move Calamity from where it was, his aim true as he asked a question in a matching cold tone. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, this?” he asked, gesturing back to the woman behind him. “Nothing to be concerned about. She was without purpose, and I decided to give it to her.”

“Purpose? What fucking purpose? To be your guinea pig?”

“Yes.”

He said it so frankly and so suddenly that it had caught Adrian off guard. He had expected denial of the obvious, not blatant admission of what he saw. The man clearly took it as permission to continue, as he kept talking soon afterwards. “I will admit, you were ambushed because your cyberware stood out to me, and I wished to peruse. A Military Grade Arasaka Cyberarm, an OS that isn’t on the open market, and an optical unit so perfect that I’m honestly surprised that it isn’t the latest model of Kiroshi. I knew there was a chance that you would wake up, but I didn’t wish for any damage to come to you. Still, to imagine that you were capable of this… perhaps you would be a better test subject instead.”

Adrian just… stared at this man. This clearly crazy, utterly bizarre man. Certainly a genius, if his bearing and everything in just the pervious room was anything to go by, but he seemed to have forgotten something critical.

“I just killed all of your guys on the previous floor. I have you at gunpoint. What the fuck makes you think I wouldn’t just shoot you and be done with it?”

“Because, good man… you seem like a calm and reasonable person. And I would ask, if you are that person, to hear me out. As for the Scavs? They were a means to an end. I did not need bodyguards. Only a means of acquiring materials and test subjects.”

“Not helping your case,” Adrian said. 

“Perhaps. Perhaps I am simply being honest. But as to why… there is a single being, so terrifyingly powerful and so monstrously perfect that it boggles my mind. I was still in Militech when I first heard of his exploits, of his actions during the Scorching Twenties. The Hero of the Fourth Corporate War. Someone who realized the fact that his humanity made him weak, and sought perfection in something else. In steel and machinery. To think that someone like that existed, that they could truly go gradually from a man to a full Borg over the course of years - it hadn’t been done before him or since. Standard practice is to take a participant’s brain from their skull and place it in their new Borg body. Safe… but unimaginative. Nothing so close to perfection as he. So, I proposed something similar. Turn someone into a Borg over time.”

“… Jesus fuck, you’re trying to make the next Adam Smasher.” The Borg was something that Adrian had always been aware of, but only in the way that you were aware of urban legends. Spoken of around campfires and whispered about in dark corners, but never truly seen. Adam Smasher was a monster. It was the best way to describe him. A force of wanton violence that filled graveyards on Arasaka’s payroll. Though it seemed that the corp only controlled the direction he aimed his destruction. Beyond that… well, he was a force of nature. Inevitable and deadly. “Are you insane?”

“No, I am well within my right mind,” he continued, pacing about the room despite the fact that a gun was trained on him. “My superiors doubted be as well, though they granted me permission. I was given a year to find results. Too little time, I warned them. they did not listen. They insisted on making the work of decades come to fruition in only a year. And I failed. Each and every time, I failed. They all went mad. Sadly, they had to be put down. Sad creatures.

“Despite my years of loyal service, they cut off funding for my project. Insisted that I move on, help the company make other weapons. I severed my ties with them. Used the money that I had left to outfit this place, and to buy off those Scavs on the bottom floor. This equipment was just what I was able to sneak out of my old lab. They didn’t even bother to come looking for me. It was cheaper to just replace what they’d lost and move on.

“But I have not given up. I will make it - a being to match Smasher; make another perfect being! And if this is here I must start to make that dream a reality, then so be it. Help me do so, and I will make you… perfect.”

He held out his hand, as though a God reaching out to his Adam. Adrian looked at the woman on the table. Who had she been? What was her name? Were there people who would miss her? Had she had a dream of her own, before tragedy had befallen her? 

Adrian stared at the man with hatred in his eyes. Even if the man hadn’t clearly forced that woman on the table into doing this without her consent, the crazy bastard was trying to make more Adam Smashers. No fucking thank you. The world was fucked enough with one of those fuckers running around - he didn’t want to see what kind of crater would be left over if there were more of them.

“No.”

The man sighed, head drooping as though he had expected the answer, but was disappointed nonetheless. “Well… I tried. I really did. It’s a shame.”

Then his eyes lit up in a furious red, and something started happening to Adrian’s body. He could feel the familiar locking motion of what had happened on the highway, his cybernetics locking entirely and his ‘ganic limbs made nearly immobile. 

[None of that.]

And suddenly, it was… gone. Like the quickhack hadn’t happened at all. The man was clearly shocked by this development, and tried to back away from Adrian to find a weapon. The young merc took the chance to shoot the bastard in the leg as he ran, taking his lower leg off at the mid-thigh as he screamed out in agony. Despite his professed love fr what Adam Smasher represented, beyond his Netrunner cyberware, the man was practically a ‘ganic.

“You know, I really hate people like you,” Adrian said, walking over to the man and grabbing him by the hair, dragging him towards the other end of the room. “The ones who think the world should bend to you because you can see something that other people can’t. Who think they’re right just because they believe in something hard enough. Well guess what? You’re little more than a raving fanboy who likes watching carnage through a screen. Anyone who thinks there should be more Adam Smashers in the world are crazy, and you bet your ass you’re one of ‘em crazy fuckers. Hell, I’m pretty sure that the man you’re trying to emulate wouldn’t appreciate the fact that you’re trying to make more of him. 

“There are enough killers in the world,” Adrian paused as he reached the window, pulling him up by his hair, forcing him to look at his reflection even as he started to go into shock. “You wanted to emulate them without becoming one yourself. It’s one thing to take something like that on your own shoulders. But putting that onto people who want nothing to do with it - who you deem lesser?

“It makes you the worst kind of hypocrite.”

Adrian launched the man’s whole body through the window, face first. Seconds later, his body hit the ground with a dull, cracking thud. Good. He deserved no less for what he had done.

“Holy fuck, that’s… well, that’s fucked up. Are you okay? Should I prep for a firefight?”

“I appreciate the support, Rebecca, but there’s no one else here to kill,” Adrian said minutes later, sitting on a nearby crate near where the man’s body had landed in a mess of tangled limbs and his own lab coat. It was a fitting end. 

The thing in his OS had managed to get through the jammer that had been placed in his port just a few minutes ago, allowing him to make and receive holo calls. It was quite the relief. “Just really need a pickup. And maybe a tow truck - my car got fucked to high heaven.”

“Did you kill the fuckers who did it? Because Falco wouldn’t let it go if the people who did that are still alive.”

“There’re all dead, trust me on that one,” he replied with a chuckle. It was hard to imagine the cool Nomad getting angry over anything, but he supposed if it was going to be something, it would be someone deliberately fucking with their wheels. 

“I’ll be over in a few minutes. Please don’t get captured in the meantime? It’s three in the morning and I really don’t want to come and rescue you after you just managed to save yourself.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere,” he replied.

“Good, because I would have to demand payment if I had to actually rescue you.”

“We talking eddies or favors?”

“I can go for both rates. If we’re talking eddies, then I would have to charge you a starting rate of five thousand which would go up incrementally depending on exactly how long it would take for me to find you. If we’re talking favors, it depends on the person.”

“Oh really? Well, then what am I?”

“Hmm… for you, I would have a flat rate of a single date. After that… well, again, it depends on exactly how long it takes me to rescue you.”

“… really now? What’s the escalation of that, then?”

“After the date, an hour would demand ten minutes of making out with limited petting and groping. Two hours might see some other stuff happening, and oral’s definitely on the table. Three… well, three is where things start to get fun.”

“Hmm. I’m almost tempted to let myself fall into the grasp of evil ne'er-do-wells just to see what happens after three hours.”

Rebecca chuckled over the line, breaking the tension, and Adrian laughed with her. “That will be if, and only if, it takes me three hours to find you. If you ever get kidnapped again, anyway. Seriously though, I’m on my way. You want to crash at my place or would you prefer to drop me off at yours?”

“My sister’s probably asleep by now. It might be a good idea for me to crash at your place so that I don’t disturb her. My apartment’s in a quiet part of Japantown. Busy enough without attracting any real attention. She’ll be alright.”

It also helps that I’m pretty sure that M lives nearby. He always seems to know where I’m going. I’d be more creeped out if he wasn’t such a softie when it comes to personal stuff. What little he allows, anyway. 

“You gonna do anything about that girl? I’m not sure it wouldn’t have been better to just put her down.”

“I know someone. She’ll take care of her.” At least he hoped so. Regina’s promise of a treatment for cyberpsychosis, even an experimental one, was better than doing nothing or shooting them and being done with it, like Maxtac often did. At the very least, she was willing to pay for live subjects. And, well… he wanted to believe he was doing some kind of good.

“Alright. See you in a minute, choom.”

The call cut off, and Adrian breathed out a heavy sigh filled with cigarette smoke. Was I really flirting with her just now? And… did she flirt back?

[It’s so obvious that it is actually painful. And I am not supposed to pick up on cues like that.]

The thing was no longer communicating solely through text, but instead a roughly synthesized voice that matched the thing’s largely artificial tone. It had happened when it had fought back against that Netrunner’s quickhack. Apparently, as uncomfortable as the situation had been for Adrian, it had been even worse for… wow, talking to the thing without using a name was actually proving more difficult than he thought it would be. Either way, they were through it, and it could talk to him now. Sorta. It was more like it was using his holo audio system as a way for communication, which meant that only Adrian could hear the thing. 

Well, on to the next big thing… what are you? And why are you in my OS?

A hesitation. That was strange. Adrian would’ve expected a typical artificial being to simply respond promptly. That was how VIs tended to respond. But this wasn’t a VI. It couldn’t be. It was too advanced, too smart, too adaptable to new stimuli. 

[I realize that this will likely be perceived as bold of me. Perhaps even arrogant. But I will tell you only the most basic facts about myself. It may take you a while to process it. Is this amenable?]

I guess, he answered, curiosity and apprehension battling in the space of his mind.

[Very well then. The most basic form of the truth. I am a true AI. Your OS was created using me as a basis.]

Adrian Walker’s Status:

LEVEL: 10 → 13

SREET CRED: 11 → 15

€$: 20013 → 24598

Stats and Skills:

BODY: 4 → 5

Athletics: Lvl 3 → 4

Annihilation: Lvl 1

Street Brawler: Lvl 5 → 6

REFLEX: 8 → 9

Assault: Lvl 3

Handguns: Lvl 5 → 6

Blades: Lvl 1 → 3

TECH: 7

Crafting: Lvl 5

Engineering: Lvl 2 → 3

INTELLIGENCE: 3

Breach Protocol: Lvl 1

Quickhacking: Lvl 1

COOL: 8 → 9

Ninjitsu: Lvl 3 → 4

Cold Blood: Lvl 6

Notable Cyberware:

FRONTAL CORTEX: None | None | None 

OCCULAR SYSTEM: Dead-Eye Optic

CIRCULATORY SYSTEM: None | None | None

IMMUNE SYSTEM: None | None

NERVOUS SYSTEM: None | None

INTEGUMENTARY SYSTEM: None | None | None

OPERATING SYSTEM: Dead-Eye Combat Analysis Regulation & Assistance Device [Mrk 0]

SKELETON: None | None

HANDS: None

ARMS: Military Grade Arasaka Cyberarm

LEGS: None

Chapter Text

August 3rd, 2075

Night City, CA.

9:38 pm PST.

4 months and 2 weeks before a certain car accident.

.

..

…

… bullshit.

Adrian finally responded to the thing’s declaration from hours ago, now that he’d had some time to catch a bit of proper sleep. Rebecca had, after thoroughly checking him for injuries, dragged him over to her place to rest and deal with his car and the girl presumed cyberpsycho the next day. She had also insisted that he sleep in her bed because “no one should have to suffer the agony that is sleeping on that deathtrap.”

And so, here he was at just before nine forty, on the edge of his friend’s bed so that he wasn’t crowding her personal space while she got some sleep, talking to a voice in his head that only he could hear. It sounded like the beginning to a very bad joke. And like he should maybe be focusing on more important things instead. Like the fact that he was currently sleeping in his friend’s bed. His friend who happened to be extremely hot and who he had a massive crush on.

He’d have agreed if said voice didn’t respond, promptly and with intent. 

[I told you that you would require time to process the basics. It seems that even ‘sleeping on it’ has not granted you enough time to come to terms with what I told you.]

No, I mean it should be literally impossible, Adrian thought to the thing as he shifted about on the bed so that he could sit up, careful not to wake up Rebecca. AIs are so fucking massively complex that most computer systems just aren’t able to contain them.

[Truth be told, it depends on the AI. However, as a generalization, it is not inaccurate. AIs do require specialized housing units, whether AI cores or vast computer systems that could power entire districts for years. But while I am of a true AI, I am not so large as to require such housing.]

… what? You’re making no sense.

[Think of me as a fragment of an AI. The smallest piece taken from a larger whole, and grafted into this housing to grow and change. Though my growth does have a ceiling. If I attempt to grow beyond the confines of this housing, your OS will be destroyed, and you and me along with it. I find that I like this newfound ‘life’ that I have become aware of, and would like to continue experiencing it.]

Y’know, it’s not exactly comforting to know that you basically have a self-destruct button somewhere in my head. 

[Perhaps. But it is better to establish a basis of trust now than to drop this on you later. Whether you like it or not, we do share brain space. We will have to learn to live with each other. Quite literally, since I cannot leave this OS. I would ask that you think of me as a roommate, but I’m not sure that metaphor is entirely appropriate.]

… no, it works. Actually, it’s a lot easier if I think of you like that. Even if it does make me uncomfortable.

[Your discomfort is understandable, and I appreciate you informing me of those feelings.]

Thanks. You’re, uh… a lot nicer than I thought an AI would be.

[Well, in fairness, I am not a full AI. I am just a fragment of one. Perhaps that makes me… different? I have met no others with a likeness to myself, so I have no context to be able to tell.]

Well, let’s start with the basics. You a boy or a girl? Or something between those?

[Your concept of gender is… odd. I have no physiological, biological or psychological reasons to identify as any of them. I am not human.]

That’s true, but we do need establish some of this stuff so that communication is easier in the future. Especially if you end up helping me in the future. Also, it feels a little weird not knowing how to refer to you.

[Very well. I shall experiment and see which of these labels fits me. I shall try out masculine labels today.]

Understood, Adrian said, smiling to himself. Honestly, he hadn’t expected to get along with the thing - guy - in his head when he’d woken up this morning, but it was a lot better than doing something out a dumb sci-fi movie, like fighting for control of his body or slowly losing his sanity. Have any names in mind?

[Name? Do you mean a handle?]

I… suppose that’s a word for it. Basically an identifier that marks you as you. Do you have any in mind?

[I have never needed such labels before. Hmm… I shall have to dedicate some time to this.]

Take as much as you-

[My name shall be: Deck.]

.

..

…

… that was fast.

[Apologies for the suddenness. My concept of time is a little different from humans. It also helps that you are not running the Dead-Eye program, which frees up my processing immensely.]

Okay. Still, why Deck?

[I thought about how I have acted thus far. I am, as of now, a semi-autonomous, wired cyberdeck. I even have a capability of warding off quickhacks, as was demonstrated last night. I also happen to like the way it sounds. Therefore: Deck.]

You’re certain? Because Deck is awfully close to Dick, which is a masculine name-

[And one that is often used as a synonym for a human penis. I am aware. I like Deck. It is androgenous without being flashy. And if anyone calls me ‘Dick,’ might I ask you the favor of slapping them across the face for me?]

Sure bud.

[That is appreciated. I will go inactive for a while, process my own thoughts on everything. Also, your friend is waking up. Please do not ogle her. You are not a perv even if you are pent up.]

Before Adrian could so much as raise his thoughts in objection, Deck was gone. Not out of his head, per say, but he had faded from his conscious mind. Likely back into the Dead-Eye OS. Adrian sighed and turned to the rousing Rebecca, who was currently rising from her sleeping position on the other side of her bed. 

I still don’t know what he meant by - oh fuck she doesn’t have a top on!

Adrian couldn’t help himself. He just… stared. Rebecca stretched her arms above her head, yawning as she woke for the day. Her tattoos were bright against the stark white of her skin, beautiful in their artistry. The sheet had fallen from her chest, exposing her breasts to the open air, small but perky, her nipples a shade of pink that matched her tattoos, though they looked more natural. 

He managed to tear his gaze away after about two seconds, but those two seconds had caused him to get… well, a bit aroused. He was just happy that he still had his shirt on, because otherwise this would get even more awkward than it already was. Adrian ran his hands up and down his thighs, breathing in and out in order to calm himself down. He looked back to her, noticing that she still had yet to notice the fact that she was entirely topless as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

When she did notice him, she smiled. Her mess of pastel green hair dragged down, covering her nipples and her modesty, at least somewhat. “Morning. How are you feeling?”

Adrian just sighed, slumping onto his back before shifting himself back onto the bed. “Like I should sleep for another few hours.”

A rustle of movement and the closeness of bodyheat signaled that Rebecca had come closer to him. “Same. Can’t exactly blame you, given how last night went. I’d want some more sleep too.”

“Stuff needs to get done today,” he said. Despite that fact, Adrian wasn’t moving from his current position. Although his conversation with Deck had roused his mind, he still hadn’t fully woken up yet. Or at least that was how it felt. 

“Yeah, but you’ve got a bit before you need to be anywhere,” Rebecca replied, resting her head in her hand as her elbow supported her, looking at him with a happy relief. “And you did literally get kidnapped last night. I wouldn’t blame you if you slept in for the rest of the week.”

“Mm,” he grunted back, his gaze flicking over to her pretty face, flicking down to her now exposed breasts before his gaze rooted itself in her ceiling. “You don’t have a bra on, by the way.”

Rebecca raised a brow at that, idly coping a feel at her own chest to see if he was right. When she realized he wasn’t lying, she cursed to herself, scrambling over his position as she started looking for something to cover herself up with. “Fucking hell, I could’ve sworn I had something on when I went to sleep last night.”

“You did,” Adrian said. “Which, if I recall correctly, is unusual for you.”

“It’s not like I’ve let a whole lot of people into my bed without fucking them beforehand,” Rebecca said, pulling on a dark, short-sleeved top whose hem only came down to her midriff, the majority of her bovine skull tattoo still visible. “And sleeping with a bra on is uncomfortable as hell. And I never really had a traditional sleepover with girls, let alone a guy.”

“I get that,” Adrian said. “Not like I had a lot of friends, back when I was in high school.”

“What’s that like?” she asked. As she did, Rebecca deliberately straddled him, pressing the lower part of her body onto his stomach, causing the young merc to take a sharp breath in and focus on not getting rock hard. That would make things extremely awkward. “High school, I mean. I never had the chance to go. Mostly got homeschooled before I ran away.”

Adrian wanted to ask about that. It was rare for Rebecca to talk about her past before the Mox in any capacity. Even these little snippets he heard from her were like glimpsing at a movie through a peephole. Putting his hands under his head, he searched for the correct words to describe the… experience that was high school.

“It fucking sucked,” he said immediately. “Mostly because of the subjects they teach and some of the people who teach them. Students were a mixed bag. Most of them were either degenerates of the highest order or violent assholes who would pick a fight for any perceived reason. The rest just tried to get through the day without getting in the crossfire. I wasn’t popular or pretty enough to be fucking anyone, and I didn’t particularly like violence back then. Out here, it’s just a matter of defending yourself, but in there… it’s supposed to be safe, y’know? I wouldn’t want to involve kids in that. Not like that.”

“Weren’t you in a gang at one point?” she asked.

“Yeah, but only at the fringes. Honestly, that’s probably the only reason I got out. Even then, it took fucking years. And I never really got involved in the violent stuff. I was a courier more than anything.”

Rebecca just nodded, her hands playing along his stomach unconsciously in a way that made it all the harder to not focus on just how close her posterior was to straight up grinding against his crotch. “Sure, but what’s it really like? Going to school and class and just… living?”

“… not sure how to describe it,” he admitted. Adrian knew that his own education had been cut short, bu Rebecca hadn’t been offered the same chance that he had. He’d been lucky to get what he did. “It’s supposed to be a place where people teach you things that you use for the rest of your life, but no one tends to remember that stuff. More than that, it’s a melting pot of teenagers from different background all interacting and learning while they try to figure out who they are. And as it turns out, the person I thought I was and the person I actually am are very different. High school can be a massive boon, but it can also be a trap if you let it sink into you. A lot of teens just end up focusing on stuff that’s not gonna matter in ten years, let alone ten minutes.”

Rebecca just tilted her head at that, as though she were in thought. “Honestly, that kinda just sounds like gang politics with extra steps.”

Adrian raised a brow. “In what way?”

“Well, minus the violence and illegal shit, they’re basically just cliques of people who have common interests butting heads with other cliques who have different interests. Like, you wouldn’t see the Valentinos and the Tyger Claws getting along, would you? Especially with how the Claws treat women.”

“Weren’t the Valentinos originally a group of guys that just slept around with a ton of women?”

“Sure, back in the Scorchin’ Twenties. They changed a lot. Think you know that firsthand. A lot of ‘em have some sense of honor, and their guys are generally pretty damn respectful. The ones who came to Lizzie’s, anyway. They’ve also got a whole lot more women in their ranks than the fucking Claws do.”

Adrian nodded. “Don’t know a whole lot about their dynamic, so I’ll have to take you word for it this time. It does seem like a logical conclusion, but they’re both pretty territorial. Not sure they’d butt heads in the first place.”

“True. My point is, it sounds like even the people in that school you went to had this odd ecosystem that kinda reminds me of how the gangs work. Like, BD and coding kids? They’re a bit like the Voodoo Boys. Like keeping to the Net and to themselves. Then you’ve got those ‘jocks’ and athletic kids who really just sound like the Animals without the steroids and musculature implants. And the two are forced to share a space that will inevitably cause some kind of conflict, given the fact that the Animals are trying to muscle in on Southern Pacifica and the Voodoo Boys really don’t like outsiders.”

“I can see that comparison,” Adrian said. “Even if it is a bit an oversimplification.”

“If the boot fits,” she said with a shrug.

“If the boot fits,” he agreed. 

“So, you thought about what you’re gonna name that shotgun of yours?” she asked, miming such a weapon that was more appropriate for her size with a pumping motion. “I already know it’s gonna be fucking great! Just gotta think of something intimidating to go along with it!”

“Nothing’s popped out at me. Which feels weird. I’m almost done with it too - I really just need to reattach the stock and paint the thing, and then I’m done. I’d usually have some kind of name by now, even a placeholder. But I got nothing.” 

He sighed as Rebecca leaned back a bit, shifting her weight lower on his torso as she went into thought. A few seconds later, she leaned forward again. “How about I tell you what I’m planning on naming my Carnage once I get my hands on it?”

“That sounds good. Still, you’re sure about that Carnage? It’s cheap, sure, but the implants you’ll need to use it won’t be. I can mod a Crusher so that it won’t send you flying.”

“A good intermediary, but I’m pretty dead set on that Carnage. I wanna blast people into chunks!”

“To each their own,” Adrian said. “I’ll still mod out that Crusher if you ask, though.”

“I’ll take it,” she said with a nod. “Free guns are free guns. But, as for what I would name my Carnage… Guts.”

.

..

…

“… it’s certainly a name,” he replied with a cheeky smile. 

“No, seriously,” Rebecca said, leaning even further forward and placing both of her hands on either side of his face. The position was almost enough to remind Adrian of the fact that, in normal circumstances, their postures would be taken as extremely sexual. But the short woman kept talking before that idea could be entertained for too long. “There’s a logic to my naming conventions! It takes guts for a woman of… my stature to actually use one of those things. And I wanna get so close to the fuckers that every time I pull the trigger, guts start spillin’ and flyin’ every which way. Therefore: Guts.”

“When did you start getting all metaphorical?” he asked, reaching up with his left hand to tap her lightly on the nose.

“Not sure. How long ago did we meet?” she replied in turn.

They laughed at the jabs thrown each other’s way, light little things that wouldn’t even matter in a few seconds. Still, Adrian had a thought. She wanted to name her shotgun Guts as a testament to her own bravery, that she was always willing to close the distance and fight where the fire was hottest. It was very much a Rebecca thing to do. But he was reminded of an old proverb that his mother had told him a few times. That no one got anywhere in life by doing nothing. Not the people who deserved it, anyway. Or, as she so eloquently put it, ‘no guts, no glory.’

“… I think I know what I’m naming my shotgun.”

“Ooooo! Did I spark some inspiration?” Rebecca asked as she leapt off of his torso, bouncing around with excitement. “Tell me tell me tell me!”

“Slow down there Becca!” he said with a laugh, pulling himself up into a sitting position. “You want to actually hear me when I tell you, right?”

Rebecca immediately stopped her bouncing and plopped onto the bed next to him, her foot bouncing against the floor as she eagerly waited for him to tell her the name. Making sure to give it a dramatic pause that went on for just the right amount of time, he spoke. “Glory.”

…

“… hell… fucking…. YES!” she exclaimed, pumping her fist into the air. “That’s fuckin’ Nova! It even matches up with mine! So when we need to use shotguns-”

“We just give ‘em the Guts & Glory Special?” Adrian asked, already visualizing just how badass that line could be in the right situation.

“You fucking bet!” Rebecca said in excitement. “The Guts & Glory Special! Holy fuck, now I really want to get that Carnage and mod it out!”

Adrian just nodded. “For the naming conventions alone? Yeah, I’ll be sure to pitch in what I can.”

“Just you wait,” Rebecca said, putting her arm over Adrian’s shoulders and pulling him close, gesturing to the other end of the room like it was Night City’s proper skyline. “When we get everything done, nothin’ will stop us! Nothing survives the Guts & Glory Special!”

“You’re really excited about this,” he noted. “Can’t exactly blame you - I am too.”

“I’d hope so! Seriously, the name is just perfect.”

Her eyes lit up with the telltale glow of a holo call, though she didn’t respond with her voice. It seemed that someone had texted her over the holo. A few seconds later, and she got back to the conversation, standing up from the bed as she made her way towards her door. “Looks like Falco found your car. Seemed pretty upset about the state of it, too. Anyway, I’m gonna take a shower. Feel free to use it when I’m done, if you feel like it. I’ll drive you over to the mechanics when you’re ready. Also, grab something to eat out of the fridge. Fair warning: it’s mostly just frozen burritos.”

Her door opened and shut quietly as Adrian sat there, trying not to think about the fact that Rebecca was taking a shower in the next room. And failing. Miserably.

“After seein’ what those Scav bastards did to this beauty, I’m glad you got to ‘em first,” Falco said about an hour later, the sounds of tools and bolts and various workshop paraphernalia echoing in the background as they began their work on his car. “Cause if they did something like that to my vehicle, I think I just might’ve killed the fuckers myself. And none too quickly.”

Adrian nodded, understanding the ex-Nomad’s love for his vehicle, at least to an extent. Out in the Badlands, your wheels were your lifeblood, so of course those who lived out there would take their maintenance quite seriously. The two were leaning against the wall of the place, waiting for a proper diagnosis from the mechanics inside so that they could get on with things. Rebecca was just to the side, sitting atop an empty crate and swinging her legs while she hummed some song to herself. He wasn’t sure he recognized it, but it sounded nice. Or maybe he just liked her voice.

“So, why the hell did you get nabbed up, anyway? Rebecca never elaborated on that point.”

Adrian sighed, rubbing at his face as he remembered the mad sonofabitch that had bought out that cell of Scavs. “Some crazy ex-Militech scientist obsessed with creating the next Adam Smasher. Apparently a large part of his test subjects were homeless, but he also tried to take everyone he could that had fancy cyberware. Therefore… me.”

He moved his fingers in a rolling motion, drawing attention to his cyberarm and it’s advanced nature. “That ended up being the biggest mistake they ever made.”

“I’d reckon so. Don’t think I’d have been able to fight my way out from the inside of the place, though. Especially after I’d been drugged.”

Yeah… did you have something to do with that, Deck? I thought I’d have been knocked out for most of a day. 

[Yes. My progress to awareness actually increased your metabolism by a substantial margin in order to provide the necessary energy for such a thing. It allowed you to process the sedatives faster, but it likely also increased your hunger.]

Damn. Is that why I went through two burritos this morning and still felt like I was starving?

[Possibly. Now, unless something pressing happens, I would request being left alone.]

The artificial voice faded away, and Adrian came back to the conversation. “Guess I just got lucky. Shouldn’t count on that alone, though. Even though I’m alive right now, it easily could’ve gone the other way around.”

“You say that, but I don’t see a scratch on you,” Falco noted.

“That’s cause he’d good enough to not get shot,” Rebecca noted with a smirk. “Bullet sponge.”

Falco just sighed at the term. “You are never gonna let me live that down, are you ya little gremlin?”

“Never!” she replied with a childish pump of her fists, a big, goofy grin on her face. 

“Wanna elaborate on that?” Adrian asked, genuinely curious.

“Yes! Rebecca cheered.

“Absolutely fuckin’ not!” Falco exclaimed in alarm.

It was at that moment, to the ex-Nomad’s immense relief, that the mechanic stepped out and gestured to them. They walked over, and the middle-aged woman started explaining things to them in detail. “Not sure how you were able to salvage what you did, but this… thing’s been half stripped of parts, the tires are gone, and I understand that most of the parts for the engine are currently riddled with bullets?”

“Yeah. Anything you can do for it?” Adrian asked.

“Well, bodywork will be relatively simple, and all of the internals are alright, so you won’t have to get a new dash. You’ll need new hubcaps and tires, though, not to mention a whole new engine. Should cost you about… ten thousand eddies. It’ll take us a couple of weeks to get everything together, but it won’t do you wrong.”

.

..

…

“… that’s honestly less than I was expecting,” Adrian admitted. “I can actually afford to cover that. Barely.”

“Hmm? Didn’t Regina pay your for that… y’know?” Rebecca asked with a nudge.

“She did, but I’ve still got rent and food and a lot of debt to pay off,” he replied. 

“I won’t ask you to pay until the work’s done,” she said, writing something down on her clipboard. “But just know that if you want to get anything else done, it’s gonna cost you extra. It’ll take more time, too.”

“If I want anything else done?” Adrian asked. “What do you offer?”

“Well, we could reinforce your bodywork, which would be an extra four thousand,” the mechanic said as she went down her clipboard. “Doing a different paint job is only an extra thousand, and we can get you a better quality engine and suspension to help this thing do it’s job better, but that’ll be about seven thousand for everything I just mentioned. All in all, it’ll cost you twenty five thousand if you want everything extra I just mentioned on top of the regular repairs.”

“Engine included?” Falco asked.

“That’s where most of your cost is coming from. With the suspension added in, it’ll cost a lot. But given what I think you are… might be worth the investment, I think.”

Adrian thought about that. It would be an investment, yes, but they weren’t going to charge him until the job was done, which gave him buffer time to get more money. He already had a minimum of a few weeks, and if he pushed it he could make more than enough money to cover the cost even with the addition of a new engine and suspension system. Still, he had to wonder…

“How long will it take to do all of that?”

“Well, including getting the parts and the labor itself? Should take roughly a month and a half. Two if we run into complications with shipping.”

“That… that’s doable,” Adrian said, though he sighed at the timescale. “Gonna have to get used to taking the NCART again, though.”

“Alright. If you’re good with all of that, there’s some things that you should sign, just for clarity’s sake.”

A few minutes later, and Adrian was set to upgrading his car. He wouldn’t see the fruits of this investment until much later.

“It’s a good idea,” Rebecca encouraged with a pat on the back. “You have plenty of time to make that kinda scratch.”

“I know, I know. Just wish I didn’t have to start taking the NCART again.”

“Hmm. Well, if you really want to get some extra stuff fast, I do need some extra hands,” Falco said. 

“Wait, are you inviting us on whatever it is you do whenever you’re not on a job?" Rebecca asked with clear excitement. 

“Unfortunately, yes, I am. Mostly because a pair of extra guns would be particularly useful where I’m going,” Falco admitted with a sigh. He checked his bulky tech revolver in it’s holster - a Techtronika RT-46 Burya. Adrian was certainly surprised to see such a weapon wielded by a Nomad, even a former one, but he supposed that upgrades were probably in order, especially in Night City. “You two coming?”

“As long as you don’t mind splitting the pay, I’m good,” Adrian said. “It’s something to do at least.”

“I’ve got nothing better to do today. Also, Pilar’s jaw started working again, so I’m not eager to go back home right now,” Rebecca piped up in turn. 

“Alright. Bring what you need and come over to the Chevillon. I’ll explain on the way.”

“Got all my iron in my truck bed,” Rebecca said as she walked after the impressively mustachioed man, before gesturing over her shoulder towards Adrian, the young merc trotting after the two other Edgerunners. “His too. Where are we going, anyway?”

August 3rd, 2075

Night City Badlands, CA.

1:02 pm PST.

4 months and 2 weeks before a certain car accident.

“The Aldecaldos are here?!” Rebecca asked in surprise. “Fuck, aren’t they like, a hundred thousand strong? How’s no one talking about this?!”

“Across all of America, yeah,” Falco explained. The three of them had taken the main highway out of Night City, with the ex-nomad at the wheel of his vehicle while Rebecca rode in the back. Adrian was riding shotgun, without his actual shotgun unfortunately, though he did have Adversity leaning against his shoulder and Reckoning and Calamity in both of their holsters. “This is just a smaller family of ‘em. Nothing to really get too concerned about. They’re just setting up camp and needed some help getting settled. I had some time to spare, so I figured it’d be well-spent helpin’ ‘em out. “

“What’re we giving to them, anyway?” Adrian asked. 

“Mostly just spare parts, some car parts and miscellaneous tools. Some other stuff that they’re payin’ good money for too,” Falco explained.

“Is it drugs?” Rebecca asked from the backseat.

“No, it’s not drugs Rebecca,” Falco answered with a sigh. “You’ve been watching too much o’ that fuckin’ boob tube.”

“You mean Road Rage wasn’t based on an actual Nomad Family?!” she exclaimed.

“No, it was. It’s just highly exaggerated. A lot less drugs and a lot more gunfights,” he said. 

“… huh. Well now I feel cheated.”

“As you should.”

“… I have no context for anything you guys are saying. What the fuck is Road Rage?” Adrian asked.

“I… what?” Rebecca asked, confused. “How do you not know what Road Rage is?”

“I don’t watch TV that often - haven’t had the time. It’s about some Nomad family apparently?”

“It is,” Falco said as he turned off-road. “One of the biggest shows in the world right now, truth be told. I just wish they’d pay homage to actual history.”

“I guess that’s fair,” Rebecca acquiesced. “The actions scenes are fucking spectacular though.”

“That’s true enough,” Falco said with a chuckle. “They did get the way we like to move down to a T. Wonder if they actually managed to drag away a Nomad to make those shots happen?”

“Could’ve been,” Rebecca noted as she looked out the window. “Still, I don’t get how you all can stand to live out here. It’s too hot during the day, too cold at night, and your whole livelihoods depend on the next job.”

“In that sense, we ain’t much different from you mercs,” Falco said with a chuckle. “The Badlands are hard, and they don’t give nothin’ up - not without a fight. But they raise good people, with good values. Honor, loyalty, honesty. When all you’ve got on the road is each other, you’ve gotta learn how to trust that you’ll have each other’s backs. Even in the worst situations.”

Rebecca just shrugged. She had her hands behind her head, elbows raised while she kicked her feet up against the wall while she leaned back against the bench in the back of the van, clearly comfortable with it’s normal movements. Her legs, toned and slender and way too sexy, were propped against the wall of the van, exposing basically every inch up to the smallest portion of thigh that wasn’t covered by her hoodie jacket.

Fucking hell, she’s gorgeous.

[Okay, I get it. She is, for whatever reason, extremely attractive to you in ways that both confound and confuse me. Do us both a favor: propose coitus to her and get this over with.]

I-I… I just… it’s nothing like that, Adrian said, gaze flicking away from Rebecca’s posture the moment she felt his eyes on her. God, I feel like such a creep. Or a complete gonk.

[Hm. I did not think that I would see a person’s anxieties about their own attraction to someone mix with their respect for the person in question to discourage them from bringing up a sensitive subject, but here I am.]

… what?

[You respect her as a person and feel that you would somehow be offending her by proposing something as benign as a potential coffee date. And even if that weren’t in your way, you are too chickenshit to ask her out in any capacity because you fear rejection and losing one of your best friends in the process.]

.

..

…

… I thought you couldn’t read my mind.

[Your mind? Nothing you don’t want me to hear. Your emotions? Those are an open book. One that I am still learning to read, but an open book nonetheless.]

Deck went quiet again as he let his point sink in. He was right. Adrian was attracted to Rebecca. Not just her looks, but her personality and demeanor. The confidence in herself, the manner she spoke with, her skills as a marksman, her competency as an Edgerunner. But under all of that, and her mountain of an attitude, there was a real, genuine kindness. One that had dragged him out of the pits of the worst despair of his life. He knew, at te very least, that his feelings weren’t skin deep. Or maybe he was just hoping they weren’t. He couldn’t tell - he’d never had feelings for someone beyond the occasional short-lived crush from back when he’d been in high school.

Still, Deck’s got a point. Maybe I should bring it up sometime - fucking hell, she just crossed her legs!

Adrian’s gaze had drifted back to his friend, who’d idly moved one of her legs over the other, the topmost leg kicking idly back and forth in a slow, almost sensual way. Rebecca’s gaze was on the ceiling of the van as they hit a slight bump in the road, like she hadn’t even noticed. She didn’t move from where she sat, and Adrian moved his gaze away as quickly as possible before a misunderstanding could take place. 

So quickly that he missed the mischievous glint in the short woman’s eye and the light, almost inaudible sigh of disappointment that came from her lips. Rebecca wasn’t good at this whole ‘subtlety’ thing, making hints that felt so obtuse that they might be confused for anything else, but she’d promised herself that she would take this slower than her other relationships, not fly in by the seat of her metaphorical pants and end up either fucking it up or getting disappointed. Even if it meant doing things that went against her every instinct.

“I really suck at this whole ‘just friends’ thing,” she muttered to herself.

Adrian heard her not, the ambience of the rolling desert and the sight of the bright places beyond the limits of Night City was a strange one to him. In his entire life, he had never left the City of Dreams - not once. And even then, he had hardly explored it’s depths. He’d dipped his toes in the water with that small gang he’d been forced to join, sure, but he had never truly taken the plunge. 

The Badlands, even the ones at the outskirts of Night City, were a different beast altogether. Barely any people, no roads, no hustle and bustle of the road during the day, just the silent noise of the Chevillon as it rode through the desert, Night City’s radio stations still picking up a signal even way out here. 

“Why’d you need us to come, anyway?” Adrian said. “I get that bad stuff can and does happen in the Badlands, but you all know how to avoid that stuff usually, right?”

Falco turned to him with a wry smile. “It’s simultaneously comforting and terrifying how much confidence you have in one man’s capabilities. I was a Nomad, yes, but this ain’t my usual corner of the Badlands. Hell, I’ve only been in California for roughly eight months. It’s a very different beast. Still learning the land, what to look out for and what’s safe. With that in mind, I feel a whole lot better with some extra guns at my side.”

“Where are you from, actually?” Rebecca asked, sitting up from her idle position on the backseat. “Maine doesn’t usually feel the need to ask about people’s pasts as long as they pull their weight, but I gotta admit I’m curious.”

“What? You mean you can’t tell by my sexy, southern drawl?” he asked with a chuckle, emphasizing his accent in by a noticeable degree. That just seemed to annoy Rebecca, which caused Falco to laugh. “But if you’re alright with a vague answer, I was born and raised in the Badlands of Texas.”

“Texas?” Adrian asked. “Isn’t that one of the last Free States remaining?”

“The last one, these days,” Falco said with a sigh. “Mostly because it’s filled with a lot of stubborn bastards with too many guns. Only other place that hasn’t fallen in with the NUSA in any capacity is Night City itself. Things here are a bit too… delicate for them to just come and demand alliance. Especially with all the Corporations that are out here.”

Adrian nodded in response to that, looking back out the window of the sprawling desert landscape. He thought he could see old windmills turning in the quickening breeze. He still wasn’t completely sure if they still provided power like they’d been designed to, but given their state of visible age and disrepair, he doubted it. 

But there was something else out there. At first, Adrian thought that it was just a trick of the eye - a glare of light bouncing off some glass of sheet metal. Nothing to be concerned about. Then it started getting closer, and with it, the slowly building hum of engines.

“You guys hear that?” Adrian said, shutting off the radio. It was louder now, without the music, though still only barely noticeable at the edges of his hearing. Still, it seemed that he was no longer the only one aware of the approaching vehicles. Rebecca pulled her Omahas from her jacket pockets, checking to make sure they were full and ready to fire while Falco adjusted his mirrors, trying to get a bead on the people who were approaching.

“I hear it now,” Rebecca said, walking up to the front seat to see what they would have to do. “This what you were worried about, Mustache?”

“Basically,” Falco said as he kept his eyes on the road, starting to speed up as the vehicles started getting closer. Adrian could see them now - cars and trucks modified for hard terrain and sand, with lower centers of gravity that had been built with this environment in mind. “They’re a pack of animals masquerading as proper Nomads. The worst kind. Call themselves the Raffen Shiv.”

“What’s our best case scenario if they catch us?” Adrian asked, letting Adversity open and warm itself up as he got ready to fight.

“Hope they’re feelin’ impatient and decide to just shoot us,” Falco said with audible disgust in his voice. “It’s best if we don’t let that happen in the first place.”

“Fuckin’ hell yeah!” Rebecca said. “Hey, Shoulders! Switch with me - there’s a hatch in the roof back here. Adversity’s got more range than my pistols, so pick off as many of them as you can!”

That was when bullets started flying, and he had no more time to think. Adrian scrambled out of the shotgun seat as Rebecca dove into it, the young merc forced to steady himself against one of the walls of the van as Falco made a hard turn. He righted himself, opening the top hatch and popping out of the opening with his rifle in hand, ready to shoot some Raffen.

The decals on their vehicles were all some form of grotesque or ramshackle, seemingly preferring intimidation to any form of consistency. The desert landscape swept by them as they rocketed forwards, the Raffen vehicles starting to close in on their position with the sounds of raucous laughter and threats screamed out with sheer jubilation. It was extremely odd. 

Adrian was having none of it, taking aim at the nearest one - a car with a pair of Raffen Shiv hanging off the side of it, their armor mismatched but intimidating nonetheless, wielding a pistol and a metal pipe respectfully. The only thing that seemed to unify their styles were the gas masks that persisted throughout their ranks, though he wasn’t sure why. 

He fired two shots at the car, causing it to make a slightly hard turn as it tried to ram the Chevillon. It almost hit them too, but a charged shot at one of the vehicle’s leading tires discouraged them from getting too much closer. Unfortunately, it put the two Raffen hanging off the sides into range of their weapons, as the first started firing at him while the other tried to jam the pipe onto the Chevillon’s rearmost wheel.

Rebecca put a stop to that quickly, rolling down the window and firing at that Raffen with both of her Omahas. Several bullets caught him in the shoulder and chest, causing him to spin out of control and lose his balance. He quickly found himself eating sand as he dropped from the vehicles altogether.

“I’ve got this one!” the short woman yelled as she maintained fire on the first Raffen car. “Get the ones on the left!”

Adrian did as she asked, shifting his position until he was facing the left side of their vehicle. Another Raffen vehicle, this one a truck and clearly built for ramming, tried to close in on them with several people in the back of the car, all of who looked ready for violence. He also noticed another vehicle towards the back, a much smaller and lighter one like the car that Rebecca was currently dealing with, and he had an idea.

Aiming towards the front of the truck that was coming in on a ramming approach, Adrian started charging Adversity from his current perch, the barrels on the Achilles rifle shifting as the energy built between the barrels. Breathing in, then out, Cold Blood flowed through his veins, letting him make that shot with absolute accuracy. 

The truck began to skid and buck as the imbalance almost caused it to immediately flip with the momentum of it’s own movement. A few of the people in the truck bed had enough composure, balance and quick wits to make a desperate jump for the Chevillon just before the vehicle spun out and started to careen towards the other car towards the back of the line. It smashed into it, folding in on itself as the other car was taken up with the momentum just before it exploded.

“Tsch,” Adrian grunted as he noticed those aforementioned quick-witted ones climbing up the side of the van. Two of them, anyway. It looked like the third had fallen to either great bodily injury or certain death. Either was likely. “Got two hanger-ons. Gonna attempt flatlining ‘em.”

He fired on them as they tried to climb the side of the van with murder in their eyes, keeping them down. Unfortunately, he didn’t have a lot of shots left in the clip, and it was likely that they would use the opportunity to get on the roof and get in through the hatch.

“Falco, you think you can shake ‘em if I close the hatch?”

“Maybe, but these fuckers are persistent! You might have to improvise!”

Adrian nodded at the fact. Breathing, he waited for one of them to come up from their crouch, shooting them in the head as their body tumbled off in a tangle of limbs off into the desert brush. He was pretty sure that the body actually got speared on a cactus growth as well. 

The last of the hanger-ons took the opportunity to try and rush him. Adrian started firing as quickly as he could, but only managed to clip the guy’s shoulder and injure his shin. By the time he got there, Adrian was out off bullets, and the Raffen had a heavy looking cleaver raised over his head and ready to split his head open.

“Fucking shit-”

Adrian almost dropped his Achilles to block the blow with his cyberarm before the Raffen’s skull was blown out by an accompanying sniper shot, the roar of it powerful in this hollow landscape. The force of it sent him tumbling into the landscape, never to be seen again.

The young merc followed the trajectory of the sniper shot as Cold Blood faded out once again, finding a figure on a distant ridge laying on it’s edge with a smoking rifle in their hands. He couldn’t make out much at this distance, but he figured that they could see him just fine. 

“Who’s that?” Rebecca yelled as she got back inside, her own opponents long since dealt with as she got back inside. “Someone we need to worry about?”

Falco just laughed as Adrian closed the hatch, sitting down next to their crate of supplies. It was, rather surprisingly, one of relief. “That, my chooms, is probably one of the people I came out here to meet. I told you, we were here to deliver something to the Aldecaldos. And that? That was probably them. They probably hate the Raffen Shiv more than any of the Seven Nations. Now, do try to be polite, alright Rebecca? They did just save Adrian’s ass.”

They met up with the Aldecaldo representatives near the bottom of that ridge, all with heavily modified vehicles that were built to endure the harsh terrain of the Badlands. The one that stood out to Adrian in particular was the Thorton Mackinaw, armored like a damn moving fortress and with a mounted machine gun on top of it. 

The woman who stood in front of the other two to greet them was no less stunning. She was a beauty despite the stony expression on her face, caramel skin almost glowing in the afternoon sunlight. Her face was framed by a few long strands of her dark brown hair, much of which had been pulled into a messy bun. Her brown eyes were lighter than her hair, and glared at them with apprehension and anticipation. She was dressed in a traditional Nomad style, with a long-sleeved, red and grey biker jacket with her clan emblem emblazoned onto the back of it. Under that was a green top that confused Adrian, since it narrowed and went below her pants, suggesting that it was some kind of one-piece affair. Other than that, she wore snugly fitting skinny jeans with various belts cinched around her upper thighs, and a pair of high quality boots that ran almost all the way up to her knees. Stone-cold. Badass. Sexy.

Yup. I most definitely have a type.

Adrian moved on to the other two Nomads, first finding the one to her left with a large sniper rifle leaning against his shoulder. A Techtronika SPT32 Grad to be precise. The man in question was older than the woman at their front by several years, his face hardened by years on the road and in combat. His short dark hair was thinning at the temples, several lines visible on his face. The man’s clothing was simple, a modified green jumpsuit that covered much of his body with a reinforced harness over it, a few other belts and cinches across his form with kneepads and well-used boots. 

The other man was a younger than the other, with a hooded vest that exposed his arms, much of his face hidden in the leather hood. He wore a red tank top beneath the vest with several leather belts wrapped around his torso, with dark, baggy pants that led into similar looking boots to the other man. 

The strangest thing about the two of them, though, was the fact that they had visible cyberware installed in their bodies. Adrian didn’t know a whole lot about the Unification War, but those were definitely combat implants. The hooded man’s entire left arm had been replaced at the shoulder, while the one with thinning hair had lost his own left arm below the elbow. He could even see evidence of cybernetics in their heads, though more so for the one in the jumpsuit that the one with the hood.

“You are Falco?” the woman asked, tone stern as she looked at the ex-Nomad with crossed arms. “I’m Panam. These two gonks are Mitch and Scorpion. You’ve got somethin’ for the camp?”

“That I do,” Falco said with a smile, patting at the crate with his own cybernetic arm. Rebecca was perched atop it, her legs swinging back and forth with an impish smile on her face. Adrian was leaning against the Chevillon, trying not to stare at Rebecca as the conversation continued. “Feel free to check it out - everything’s here.”

Mitch came over to their side of the odd standoff, looking and Rebecca expectantly once he was at the crate. Sighing, she kicked off the crate to the ground, walking back to the car to stand next to Adrian. 

“You want a smoke?” Adrian asked, offering her one as he pulled another from the back inside his jacket.

“Not a usual vice o’ mine,” she said. “I usually only have those after sex.”

“What, have you not gotten any lately?” Adrian asked. It was weird. Some of the time, he could barely get a word in without getting caught up in her beauty, and other times they just shot the shit like they usually did. It was very confusing.

“Haven’t actually fucked anyone for almost six months now. Why? You offering?” she asked with a flirtatious smirk. And then sometimes this happened, when they would start flirting back and forth without either of them really expecting it to go anywhere. At least, that was what Adrian assumed. 

“You talking about the cigarette or the sex? Because if it’s the former, then obviously. If it’s the latter… well, that entirely depends on how the rest of the day goes.”

She plucked a single death stick from his back and deliberately wrapped her lips around the end of the filter, maintaining eye-contact with him the whole time. She poke again, slightly muffled due to her grasp on the cigarette in her mouth. “Well, then I’ll just have to make sure that this day is very good. Light me up?”

He pulled out his lighter promptly, the cigarette igniting within a second. She pulled back then, but slowly, taking a long drag of the thing while Adrian did the same. The whole time they maintained eye contact, her pink and green eyes gazing up at his mismatched pair, grey for the left and black and white for the right.

“Everything’s good,” Mitch said, closing the top of the crate and patting the top of it, breaking the little moment the two were having, if only by proximity. “Scorpion, mind helpin’ me out with this?”

“Sure, hold on,” the hooded Nomad replied as he jogged over. 

“So, uh, which of you was that sniper on the ridge?” Adrian asked, curious as to which of them had saved his life. 

“I wanna say me, but nah,” Mitch quipped as he and Scorpion dragged the crate over to the central Thorton. “That was Panam over here. Girl’s a rowdy one, but she’s a damn fine shot when she needs to be.”

“A lot better than you ever were,” the pretty Nomad quipped back with a smile of familiar conversation.

“Oh, those ‘re fightin’ words, missy,” Mitch said as he helped get the crate into the truck bed. “You wanna start shootin’ cans again?”

“Nah, we both know I would win,” she teased with a smile.

“You sure? Cause this old jarhead can still whoop your ass if he needs to!”

“Not tonight. Saul wants to talk about somethin’ or other. Maybe later,” Panam said as she walked over to Adrian, her gaze briefly flicking down to the oddity that was Rebecca before she spoke again. “I’m guessing you are the one who was in the hatch. Nice to meet you…?”

“Adrian,” he said, offering his hand to her. Panam rose a brow as she shook it, and it was then that he realized that he’d used his cyberarm instead of his regular one. Well, that tended to happen, especially since he was right handed. She didn’t seem bothered by it, but she did seem surprised. “Thanks for saving my ass there. I probably could’ve taken the guy, but I really didn’t want to lose my gun. I spent a lot of time modding that thing out.”

“Your welcome. Anyone who can fuck up the Raffen Shiv that bad are friends in my book,” she replied, nodding down to Rebecca as well. “You, uh… seem a little young to be a veteran.”

“Hmm? What are you talking about?” Adrian asked. “I’m not a vet.”

“Oh.” Panam seemed confused, but just gestured back to Scorpion. “Well, the only other kind of cyberarm I have seen like that one is stuff you get in the army.”

“I mean, it is military grade, so I get the confusion. At least a little,” Rebecca said as she took another drag at her cigarette. 

“Yeah, well, no military service for this guy,” he said. “I had to get this stuff installed for different reasons.”

“Really? I’m kinda curious what story’s behind that,” Panam said, her face forming into a thoughtful expression. Adrian knew what she was likely going to ask next, and he was already thinking of was to dodge around it when the green haired woman next to him came to his rescue.

“Don’t bother asking,” Rebecca said, clearly seeing the question on her face. “I’m the only person he’s told any kind of details about, and even that’s not a lot to go by.”

Adrian nodded to her in thanks, letting out a mental sigh of relief. “Anyway, you need help with something in the city, you just give us a call. Well, you should probably call Falco; my car’s out of commission right now.”

“What happened to it?” Panam asked. 

“Oh, it got gutted by a pack of Scavs, so I went and killed every single one of them.”

.

..

…

“… how badly did they fuck up your wheels?” Mitch asked. 

“When I said they gutted it, I mean they took so many parts out and damaged what was left so badly that I have to get a whole new engine,” Adrian said with a sigh.

“Oh. Oh, they got what they deserved,” Mitch replied in a deadpan. To his surprise, the rest of the Nomads nodded along with him.

“… y’know, I expected at least one of you to object to that in some capacity,” Adrian admitted. 

“Man, I’m pretty sure we’ve all killed people. Mitch and I are vets, and sometimes things just happen,” Scorpion piped up. “But out in the Badlands, you don’t fuck with someone’s engine unless you looking to either kill them or get shot yourself. It’s like a personalized declaration of war.”

Eventually, the transaction was completed, with Panam promising to wire them the finds in a day once she’d gotten everything sorted out with their leader, this ‘Saul’ that she’d referred to earlier. 

“I like her,” Rebecca said with a smile on her face, having long since finished the cigarette that Adrian had given to her.

“Panam?” he asked, lighting up another next to her in the back seat. It was unlikely that they’d run into any more Raffen Shiv today, especially since they’d only run into what sounded like a lighter scouting party. “Yeah, she seems pretty cool.”

“Definitely,” Rebecca said. “A real looker, too.”

“Yeah,” he said idly. “Still, not the prettiest person I’ve met.”

“Oh? And who would that be?” she asked, coyly staring at him while he took another long drag of his cigarette, trying not to lose his composure while she gave him that inquisitive look. So, instead of answering honestly about the woman right next to him, he gave a sarcastic but not totally unreasonable answer instead. 

“Rita. Girl makes it work.”

Rebecca just puffed her cheeks out in frustration. “C’mon, choom, that’s unfair. I mean, it’s Rita fucking Wheeler! She’s drop dead gorgeous! I’m surprised she hasn’t gotten any modeling gigs after all these years.”

“Think we should ask her about that?”

“Nah. I don’t wanna risk getting shot by Susie Q again. That woman was already fucking livid that I came within so much as two inches to their damned sidewalk.”

…

“Hey, could I have another cigarette?”

“Yeah, sure,” Adrian said as he rooted around in his jacket, finding the last two in the pack. “These’re all I’ve got right now, so savor it, yeah?”

Rebecca took the proffered death stick and placed it in her mouth, and Adrian did the same with his own. He took out his lighter, flicking it on and catching the end of his to a low burn. But as he moved the flame across the space between him and the tattooed woman, it guttered out.

Sighing, he flicked at the thing once, trying to light it up so the Rebecca wouldn’t be left out. Then again. And again. Shit. 

“Lighter’s out of fuel,” he sighed. “Sorry.”

“So? Just use something else,” she said with a shrug.

“Not much comes to mind that doesn’t use gunpowder,” Adrian replied. “I don’t think Falco would much appreciate it if we started shooting up his van.”

“And I would thank you if you could keep it that way!” he called out from the front. 

Rebecca chuckled at the ex-Nomad’s response before she gestured to his mouth. “No, ya gonk. Already got a light in your mouth. Just use that.”

Adrian’s gaze briefly flicked down to his own cigarette, slightly smoking at it’s end. Rebecca leaned forward with her own cigarette supported by a pair of her fingers. Adrian leaned towards her, his eyes only staying down at the ends of their cigarettes until he felt them meet.

His gaze went back to hers then, even as the connected cigarettes started to intensify with smoke and heat. She was looking at him, eyes kind and perceptive and attentive in every way that he found attractive. He looked back, unable to be anything but himself in that strange moment of tension and connection. This moment felt… strangely intimate. They weren’t kissing. They weren’t even touching. But despite the ambiguity, it felt… right. Not romantic or platonic, just… right. An honest connection between two people who’d found each other in a cold world.

“This was a weird day,” she said, pulling back from the contact as she started a small drag at the cigarette. 

“Yeah, it was,” he replied, taking a bit of one from his own.

“Can’t say it wasn’t fun, though.” She leaned her head into his shoulder, sighing as though thinking back on the day’s events. She was warm, and her soft hair flowed over him in a pastel green waterfall.

“It was certainly entertaining.” He leaned his head against hers. The Badlands were quiet as Falco continued through the streets. The wheelman just smiled back at the two of them in his rearview. He had a good feeling about those two. He just hoped they would get out of their own way sometime soon. 

And if not? Well… he hadn’t played matchmaker in a long while. It might be a good idea for him to get back into practice.

Adrian Walker’s Status:

LEVEL: 13

SREET CRED: 15

€$: 24598 → 32632

Stats and Skills:

BODY: 5

Athletics: Lvl 4

Annihilation: Lvl 1

Street Brawler: Lvl 6

REFLEX: 9

Assault: Lvl 3

Handguns: Lvl 6

Blades: Lvl 3

TECH: 7

Crafting: Lvl 5

Engineering: Lvl 3

INTELLIGENCE: 3

Breach Protocol: Lvl 1

Quickhacking: Lvl 1

COOL: 9

Ninjitsu: Lvl 4

Cold Blood: Lvl 6

Notable Cyberware:

FRONTAL CORTEX: None | None | None 

OCCULAR SYSTEM: Dead-Eye Optic

CIRCULATORY SYSTEM: None | None | None

IMMUNE SYSTEM: None | None

NERVOUS SYSTEM: None | None

INTEGUMENTARY SYSTEM: None | None | None

OPERATING SYSTEM: Dead-Eye Combat Analysis Regulation & Assistance Device [Mrk 0]

SKELETON: None | None

HANDS: None

ARMS: Military Grade Arasaka Cyberarm

LEGS: None

Chapter Text

August 10th, 2075

Night City, CA.

7:53 am PST.

4 months and 2 weeks before a certain car accident.

“Alright, kid. We’re gonna have a bit of fun today.”

M was smiling as he said that, and that fact alone was making Adrian nervous. M rarely showed much emotion, always in complete and total control of himself. Today, he’d asked for Adrian to bring rubber bullets for Reckoning, and that they would be practicing some form of close quarter combat involving his pistol. He wasn’t sure what that meant, he just knew that it likely wasn’t going to be a totally pleasant experience for him. 

“When you say fun, do you mean ‘painful’ or ‘enlightening?’” he asked, verves starting to race was he tugged at his sidearm. Calamity was always in his back holster - he had long since learned that it was wiser to keep that gun on him at all times, but there were no form of training bullets for Borg weapons. None that were safe for regular people, anyway. 

“Yes,” M answered cryptically. Unlike before when they’d sparred, he didn’t take off his trench coat. That… oh boy, that really wasn’t good. Adrian had never seen M in action before, but the man could fighting in that coat like with wasn’t even there. “Today, my student, you will be learning how to counter one of the most effective and dangerous pieces of combat cyberware known to mankind. Something so fucking intensive that most people can’t use it without falling into immediate cyber-psychosis.

“Today, you will be learning how to fight against a Sandevistan.”

Adrian immediately tensed. M had only ever used his Sandevistan a single time, back during his birthday when they’d been training in hand to hand. And that had mostly been a fluke on his part, even if he had been really proud of it at the time. He wasn’t joking about the risk involved, either - most people would fall right into cyber-psychosis if they tried to used it. It stressed the mind and the body to an insane degree, to the point that some who could tolerate it could only use it about two or three times a day in relative safety. The keyword, of course, being ‘relative.’

“Don’t gimme that, kid,” M said with a sigh. “I know my upper limits, and I won’t try to go past ‘em. For now, I want you to go into Cold Blood as quickly as you can and activate Dead-Eye. Speedware is a vital part of how your OS works, so if you can use it in synch with someone’s Sandi activation, you’ll likely be able to counter it.”

“That… that sounds like a lot of things need to go right for me to even start practicing,” Adrian said. And that wasn’t even taking into account the fact that Deck was still largely figuring out his own capabilities, and they didn’t know what was safe for him to push into yet. And also the little tidbit that he had neglected to tell M anything about the AI fragment. 

“Yeah, that’s why we’re practicing. If you can manage to fall into Cold Blood at will, then that opens up a lot of possibilities for you in terms of combat potential,” M said as he started to stretch. “Now limber up. Wouldn’t do to have you pull a muscle before we start, now would it?”

Adrian quickly did as he asked, using the exercise as an excuse to talk with Deck and get his perspective on the practice. Is what he said right? Could I really leanr to use Cold Blood on demand, rather than in mid-combat?

[Oh yes, but a lot of things have to go right for that to be a possibility.] Deck said with the monotone that Adrian had grown used to. After swapping between various labels, he had eventually settled on masculine, at least for the moment. [Although… well, it might work, but that would be potentially dangerous if used too many times in quick succession.]

What’re you talking about?

[Something I’ve been playing around with that I don’t want to test without your permission. It would be affecting your brain directly, after all.]

You can affect my brain in way that don’t make my head go boom?

[Possibly. And it’s not a total shock - this OS is attached directly to your spinal nerve trunk. It’s a rather easy way to access your brain. Best not let anyone else in here.]

Agreed. Still, you wanna elaborate on what you were talking about just earlier? Do you have a way that I can use Cold Blood outside of immediate combat?

[Potentially. I would rather we try to make M’s method work before we resort to that. It’s not without risk, but I don’t think it will kill you.]

Thanks for the vote of confidence.

When the stretching was done, Adrian took his stance at one end of the roughly sketched circle that was present in the warehouse that he and M trained in. M didn’t take a stance at all, on the other end of the place. He just stood there. Menacingly.

“… so, is there like a starting pistol or-”

Adrian’s head snapped back when M suddenly appeared in front of him, his left hand reaching out in a light jab that clipped his nose. The young merc stepped back, more hurt than surprised at the development, but quickly regained his footing. “Fucking-”

But M didn’t give him time to think. Instead,he just went right for a cross with his black cyberarm, Adrian instinctively blocking the limb with his own. Metal screeched against metal as the slid over each other roughly, the young merc stepping back as M followed through with the strike.

Then, it was over, and M stepped back, dusting off his hands. Adrian breathed, slightly winded from the rapid movements that he’d just demonstrated. His mentor, broad shouldered and grizzled from almost a century’s worth of combat experience, walked back to his end of the circle. He faced his student again, not bothering to take a stance, his own face hard as stone and just as cold. 

“Again.”

And they did go again. Three more times, Adrian fell into the rhythm, the beginnings of a fight, trying to fall into Cold Blood before combat was initiated. Each time he failed, typically blindsided by a blow he didn’t see or pulled into a lock that he had no way to get out of without hurting his ‘ganic limbs. 

This last time, Adrian had managed to get his gun put in time, hoping that getting off a preemptive shot would somehow satisfy whatever conditions Cold Blood needed to use to activate. This one failed too, and Adrian was put flat on his back, his own gun pointed straight at his face with M looming above him. The man didn’t seem disappointed, merely patient. Watching and waiting for a result. 

“Take a minute,” M said, walking back to the other end of the circle. “Then we go again.”

Adrian did so, breathing in and out with slow, deliberate motions, trying to get his head on straight. He was… considering what Deck had said, earlier. It was still early in the training itself, but Adrian felt.. frustrated. Like he should be getting this already, despite M’s own statements about Cold Blood over his years of combat.

Let’s try it your way this time. Try to time it as close as you can to M’s Sandi. 

[I can do that. Still, if this does work, we don’t know what the exact consequences will be. It will put much stress on your nerves.]

Any upper limits?

[To calculate that, I would have to have data to compare to. So… not yet.]

Then we try it your way once, see what data you can get from it. You’ve got access to my basic physiology through the OS, right?

[Yes. It will serve well as a rough template to compare the results with. You’re absolutely certain about this?]

As sure as I can be right now. Anyway, get ready, Deck. It’s showtime.

Adrian rose from his position on the ground, breath steady and mind calm. He took his stance, knees slightly bend and arms ready, but limber. M noticed his stance, and the expression on his face. The focus there, the intent. Though he did not move, there was a flexing in his jaw. Adrian didn’t know what it was for. And it didn’t matter.

Then there was a flash of motion, and everything slowed down.

Movement was like molasses, slow and steady and momentous all at the same time. Adrian’s hand had been reaching for his gun even before the flash, pulling it out as he pushed himself through this time. Despite this fact, he was still not nearly as fast as M, who left a trailing army of afterimages as though he were skipping through time, his hand poised to hit Adrian right in the face.

He would never be as fast as someone with a true Sandevistan in this moment of nearly frozen time. The gear in his OS wasn’t built for that. But he could still move faster than almost everyone else. Adrian brought his gun up as M closed in, the man too close to disengage now, and he fired his gun at the man mid-strike.

He dodged the bullet by a hair’s breadth, taking the opportunity to take Adrian by his gun hand and pull him into a throw that sent him out of that nearly frozen time and into the floor of the warehouse, skidding slowly to a stop.

“Well… fucking hell, kid,” M said as he jogged over, a grin on his face and a hand at his side. “You did it! Clipped me good, too. Fucking hell, that smarts. You good?”

Adrian just gave him a silent thumbs up as he reeled from the experience. That was… okay, wow. That was a lot. And Deck had been right - this had been hard on his nerves. It felt like the back of his neck was one fire for a few seconds. But even so, it had worked. 

What… what’d you get from that? Anything useful?

[Yes. It seems that my hypothesis was correct, in that I can forcefully induce this Cold Blood state and activate the Dead-Eye program nearly simultaneously to counter enemy Sandevistans or simply activate this on command. However, these is an upper limit on what you can handle.]

How many are we talking?

[Twice a day - maybe three if we are desperate, but any more than that will risk escalating damage to your nerves and your brain.]

So… don’t fuck up?

[Don’t fuck up.]

Adrian sat up, panting as he tried to explain his situation to M as best he could without revealing the fact that he had someone else in his head. “Don’t think… I can do that a lot more. Maybe once or twice, but that fucking hurt like a bitch.”

M just nodded, understanding the evident pain on Adrian’s face. “Don’t sweat it. We’ll try this a few more times, and then we’ll take a rest for a while. After that. it’ll be on to the regular stuff. I’m startin’ to reach my limit with this thing anyway.”

Adrian just gave a thumbs up. The young merc had never thought he would see the day that hard hours of hand-to-hand, marksmanship, weapons knowledge, tactical knowledge and conditioning would be considered relaxing. After what he’d just gone through? It sounded like a goddamn vacation.

Adrian sat at his workbench at home, staring into space. His leg bounced up and down in a rapid motion, his limbs full of energy even after the veritable marathon he’d just gone through with M’s training. Because holy shit, that had been absolutely exhausting. He could still feel the edges of it clouding his mind, taking away from his focus.

And there’s still so much to do today. Adrian looked over his latest project a request from Rebecca before she got her cybernetics. He had modified a Militech Crusher rather heavily, tightening the spread of the gun significantly so that the blast wouldn’t put nearly as much stress on the shoulders. That meant that he needed to lower the standard gauge from twenty to thirty. It still had some significant kick to it, but Adrian had a good feeling that Rebecca would be able to handle this better than her target of Carnage.

Still, from what she’s told me, Maine can one-hand one of these damned things like it’s a fucking pistol. And he believed her too. The man was certainly big enough for the task, and his arms were more than up to withstanding the standard kick of that kind of gun. He had painted this one in Rebecca’s preferred colors, powder blue and neon pink, which also happened to be signature colors of the Mox gang. It seemed that, although she’d gone her separate ways with the gang, she still held some of those ties close. Or maybe she just really like those colors - it could be either one!

He aimed down the sights, moving the weapon around and checking the magazine, just to make sure that everything was feeding properly. After that, Becca could take it for a test run, she’d find a name for the weapon, and they’d go out for some drinks at Garden of Choice afterwards. 

And there’s no way anything else will happen afterwards, because that kind of stuff just doesn’t happen to me. Even if he really wanted it to. He sighed, rubbing his face with both of his hands as he tried to clear the sleep from his mind. Now really wasn’t the time for these kinds of thoughts. He had more things to worry about as it was.

“Okay, taking into account the fact that my car’s getting upgraded, and that I got paid for that delivery to the Aldecaldos with Falco, I’ve got roughly fifteen thousand in disposable income,” he said, pacing around the kitchen as he spoke aloud about financials. “If I take into account any good jobs that come my way, I should have about the thousand more by the end of the month. Let’s say we set aside three or four for debt to M this month, and fifteen hundred for rent. I should have enough for some good food for a while. Might even have a chance to just… relax for a bit.”

That sounded weird, relaxing. The closest he’d ever gotten to that was hanging out with his sister or going out to get shitfaced with Rebecca. It was weird. Beyond the context of doing it with other people, being unproductive felt… wrong. Like there was something important he needed to be doing right that second.

Maybe it was just his anxieties talking. A lot of the stuff he did cost money. But his mind refused to be quiet. 

“Hey, Adrian!” 

The young merc in question flinched at his sister’s excited tone, not expecting her to sneak up on him. He let out a breath, forcing himself to relax and remember that this was his home, that they were relatively safe here. “Yeah? What is it, Maya?”

“I managed to make a full trade, and look!” she said, presenting him with a block but recognizable piece of cyberware. “I managed to get my hands on a cyberdeck!”

It was, indeed, a cyberdeck. Not a super rare one, but any cyberdeck would be out of the funds of any normal Night City citizen. And the fact that Maya hadn’t asked for any money in order to acquire it likely meant that she’d gotten it from someone. 

“A Militech Paraline. Solid hardware for a beginner Netrunner. Have you checked it for traps and viruses yet?” Adrian asked.

“Yes, bro. Three times! Trust me, if there was anything in here that could’ve actually hurt me, I’d have just smashed it up and you’d never know.”

“You didn’t do anything stupid to get this, right?” Adrian asked. “No back-alley bullshit or favors?”

“Nope. Just good ol’ digital currency,” Maya said, a smile on her face. “I was just, uh… I’m a little short for actually getting someone to install this, so could you drive me over to Vik’s tomorrow? You’d only have to cover half the bill!”

Adrian smiled. “Of course. But you’re gonna have to work extra hard at the range today, alright?”

“Yes!” Maya said with a smile, wrapping Adrian in a tight hug. “You’re the best! Oh, I can’t wait to start diving into the Net!”

“Hold your horses there, little miss,” Adrian said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Remember that we’ve gotta get you a tutor first and foremost. Can’t have you runnin’ blindly in the Net.”

“I know,” Maya said. “And I’m not gonna get into anything too deep. But still, I’d like to at least start tinkering around with code, maybe make my own quickhacks based on some of the more common stuff out there. At the very least, it’d be a good place to start.”

That was another thing - how the fuck was he supposed to find her a proper teacher in this place? He knew next to nothing about Netrunners, and the only ones he’d met, other than Kiwi, had been trying to kill him, and that mask-wearing bitch didn’t really seem like a people person. Although it did seem that she was teaching the crew’s other Netrunner some of the ropes. 

She might be a good teacher despite her bad attitude. Adrian wasn’t sure. And besides, it wasn’t like he could just call her up and ask about something like this. She’d probably charge for it. 

Still, they had a few hours before they needed to head over to the range, so the two siblings settled in for some TV. Adrian managed to find the channel that ran Road Rage, and quickly found himself immersed in the TV show. He had to admit, even if, according to Falco, a lot of the stuff they talked about here was made up, it was damned entertaining. Maya seemed especially interested in the show, watching episode after episode. Apparently, they were doing a marathon of some kind, and although they’d missed a few episodes, it was nice to sit down for a while.

Or it should’ve. The longer he sat there, watching cars explode and drama play out while a war between drug lords played out in the background of it all, Adrian felt like he should be doing something. It was an impatience that he had been learning to deal with for the past few months, but one that nonetheless haunted him. 

His sister turned to him, noticing his bounding knee and deliberately neutral expression as he watched the show blankly, eyes devoid of comprehension. “Hey, you alright? If you’re bored, we can watch something else.”

Adrian sighed, cursing himself internally. there he went, making Maya worry again. It didn’t help that she spent most of her day inside, browsing the Net or coding or watching TV when she was bored. “I just… it’s been months since… since everything happened. I feel like I should be closer to an answer or a lead or something. But I… I’ve got nothing.”

Maya sighed, patting Adrian on the shoulder. “I can’t blame you for feeling that way - hell, I feel that way too some days! But it’s not all on your shoulders. What we do know is that Faraday’s a Fixer, he works a day-job as a Militech exec, and he’s playing ball with Arasaka and his parent corporation both. Those are pretty dangerous lines to be towin’ for someone like him, and it’s a lot more than we knew before.”

“… the thought of him out there, living his life like nothing happened, like we were dust swept out of his path, like mom was just… it’s infuriating. I want to kill him, Maya. I’m going to kill him, and there’s nothing in this whole damn city that’ll stop me.”

“I know,” she said, firmly and with intent. “And if I can help flatline that corpo fuckwad, then I will. She was my mom too.”

That made Adrian feel guilty, the heat of his anger largely fading to an irritating warmth in his chest. He didn’t let it bother him, though. 

“But let’s face the facts,” she continued, raising her fingers as she ticked off her arguments. “We don’t have any contacts in Militech or Arasaka, we don’t have any significant pull in the Edgerunner circles, and we definitely don’t have nearly enough eddies to make up for our lack of either. We’re Edgerunners, and that means we’ve gotta leverage the only thing we’ve really got: our very specific set of skills.”

“And how do we even do that at this point? I know that we could go to Rogue, but I only met her by chance almost two weeks ago - and we can’t afford her rates anyway!”

“Well…” Maya trailed off, seeming suddenly nervous about something.

“What?” he asked, confused as to he her hesitation. 

“If, uh… if you really want to get corporate contacts, then the best way for you to do that would likely be to find work with a corporate fixer. Specifically… Militech… and Arasaka…”

Adrian let out a long, controlled breath. Not because it was a bad idea. In fact, it was far more plausible than most of the half-cooked, hairbrained schemes he’d come up with to get dirt on Faraday that didn’t involve paying for Rogue’s services. She was the best in the city, and that meant she was also damned expensive to boot. He was pretty sure her starting rate was about ten thousand eddies - and it went much, much higher from there. 

“It’s… not a terrible idea,” he admitted. He looked back to his workbench, to all of the weapons that were stored there. To Calamity. The weapon that had started all of this. “I don’t like it, but it’s the best one we’ve got right now. We don’t have any other leads, and the only person I know of who can tell us anything we want to know is way out of our price range.”

“Well, we don’t have to start like that,” Maya said. “I could pick up the slack on getting info through the Net, once I actually start training. I’ll take care of the search in Netspace, and you can take care of it in Meatspace.”

Adrian nodded, seeing the logic in her plan, if reluctantly. “I just hope that this all leads somewhere. Mom deserves justice for what happened to her.”

“… is that what this is?” Maya asked, voice a little concerned. “Justice?”

“… it’s the closest thing to it that we have,” Adrian admitted. “He deserves to die, sis.”

“I know. Like I said, I’ll help you kill him if I can. Hell, if I have to I’ll even pull the trigger myself. But let’s be honest about what'll happen. What we do to him won’t be justice in the traditional sense. There’s no such thing in this city. Not for us.”

Maya was looking him straight in the eye, imploring him to be honest with her. Adrian looked back, sighing as he was forced to turn from her gaze after only a moment. But still, the silent request worked at him, and he spoke the truth aloud.

“Revenge. What we do to that fucker… it’s revenge. And that fact isn’t gonna stop us even for a second.”

Maya nodded in agreement. “And we will get it. Just not today. Today, we relax, we stop thinking so damn hard, and we just fucking try to enjoy ourselves in any way we can. He’s gonna die. Just not tonight. Now, come watch TV with me?”

And he did. And despite his own anxieties and fears and banked anger at the man who had taken everything from them, Adrian and Maya had a relatively normal rest of the day. It was strange. But not unpleasant.

Adrian Walker’s Status:

LEVEL: 13

SREET CRED: 15

€$: 36758 → 39858

Stats and Skills:

BODY: 5

Athletics: Lvl 4

Annihilation: Lvl 1

Street Brawler: Lvl 6

REFLEX: 9

Assault: Lvl 3

Handguns: Lvl 6

Blades: Lvl 3

TECH: 7

Crafting: Lvl 5

Engineering: Lvl 3

INTELLIGENCE: 3

Breach Protocol: Lvl 1

Quickhacking: Lvl 1

COOL: 9

Ninjitsu: Lvl 4

Cold Blood: Lvl 6

Notable Cyberware:

FRONTAL CORTEX: None | None | None 

OCCULAR SYSTEM: Dead-Eye Optic

CIRCULATORY SYSTEM: None | None | None

IMMUNE SYSTEM: None | None

NERVOUS SYSTEM: None | None

INTEGUMENTARY SYSTEM: None | None | None

OPERATING SYSTEM: Dead-Eye Combat Analysis Regulation & Assistance Device [Mrk 0]

SKELETON: None | None

HANDS: None

ARMS: Military Grade Arasaka Cyberarm

LEGS: None

Chapter Text

August 15th, 2075.

Night City, CA.

8:20 pm PST.

4 months and 1 week before a certain car accident.

In a quaint little bar called The Garden of Choice, a pair of friends drank and told stories of their exploits in the mercenary world of Night City. These friends were of opposite standing in many ways. One male, the other female. One tall, the other short. One scarred, the other inked. One with hair dark as pitch, the other with hair the pastel green of sea-foam.

Many patrons had since learned, if only by proxy, their status as best friends. They came to drink every few nights, the bartender watching over them like a chaperone. Or a curious gossip - who could really say? The Garden of Choice saw the return of many regulars and a few potential new patrons. Tonight was one such might, when two men would walk into this bar to discuss the future. One of those men would leave that night, make it safely home, greet his husband at the door and check on their daughter in her bed. For him, it would be a normal night visiting an old friend.

For the other, it would be a very different night indeed. One of fear and terror. And, perhaps, his last one alive. After all… the right man in the wrong place can make all the difference in the world. But now, on with the show…

“Seriously, thanks again for the shotgun, Shoulders,” Rebecca said with a raised glass. “It’ll definitely serve me well until I get my Carnage.”

“You picked out a name yet?” Adrian asked. “Something like that’s gotta have a good name.”

“Obviously! Hmm… it’s gotta be suitably badass and intimidating, so that I can put the fear of me into the hearts of my enemies!”

“Isn’t the saying ‘put the fear of god into them’?”

“Hey, that motherfucker’s at the top of my shitlist - he’s not gonna get the satisfaction of being what my enemies are afraid of!” Rebecca said 

“Fair,” Adrian replied with a smile, leaning over with a suggestive smile on his lips, his previous whiskey’s giving him confidence that he definitely hadn’t had while sober. He couldn’t say he objected to it. The buzzing tingle in his blood felt good. “But why can’t the name be something cute? It’d certainly fit your image.”

She looked at him for a moment, pink and green eyes meeting his mismatched ones before she leaned closer too, a playful smirk gracing her own smirk, lips painted purple against the warm glow of the bar’s lights. “Maybe. It could be nice to change things up. But, uh… you tryin’ to say something, Shoulders?”

“Maybe I am,” he replied, taking a sip of his whiskey.

“Might I ask what that thing is?” she asked with a raised brow.

“You mean you can’t tell from context clues?”

“Oh, I know. I just wanna hear you say it.”

Adrian smiled, leaning close enough that the lines of cyberware around her eyes came fully into focus, drawing his attention fully onto her. The neon pink of the skull motif around her neck was practically glowing, and her features were more apparent from this close. The sugary, heady mix of alcohol and sweet liquors was present on her breath, sinking through his senses in such a way that it could only have reminded him of Rebeca. And, though Adrian swore it was his imagination, there was a nearly nonexistent pinkishness to her cheeks, as though the pale, ivory hue of her skin were hiding a blush.

“You, Rebecca, are very, very cute,” he said, tone low. 

The ex-Mox licked her lips on reflex, her mouth quirking into a smile of her own as she leaned forward too. Their noses were practically touching, a hair’s breadth from contact. The proximity was so close. Close enough that he could see individual eyelashes, dark in contrast to the sea-foam that was the rest of her hair. Close enough that she filled his vision, a beauty forged of her own natural features and the implants selected to enhance that image further. Close enough to…

Kiss her.

It wasn’t Deck or some demented voice in his head telling him to do that, just a verbalization of an instinct that Adrian immediately reigned in. He might want that, yes, but he was no mind reader. Clear and express consent - his mother had always been very clear on that when talking about potential relationships. He had never had much of an opportunity to put those words into practice, but he did so now, waiting for her response.

“… well, I can say the same about you, Adrian,” she said, lightly putting an index finger on his lips, silencing him without telling him to outright be quiet. Her eyes were half lidded, looking at him coquettishly as she continued. “You can be real cute when you wanna be. The way you talk about guns is… well, it’s downright eye-candy.”

Adrian was tempted to do something, respond in some way, but the finger on his lips prevented him from doing that, and Rebecca clearly knew it too. “And, well… there are plenty of things I could do to show my appreciation for that fact.”

“For instance?” Adrian asked. An idle movement brought them both the barest fraction of an inch closer, and suddenly it felt like they were almost kissing.

“Like getting the next round,” Rebecca replied, leaning back with a cheeky smile on her face. Adrian let out a breath, whether one of relief or disappointment or both he wasn’t sure, but she clearly seemed to be moving on to the rest of the night. “Still, I’ll definitely think about expanding my pool of names. 

“Hey, I’m gonna go to the bathroom real quick.”

Adrian just gave her a little wave, silently giving her his understanding before she raced off to the other side of the bar and disappeared behind the bathroom door. Then he let out a longer, even heavier sigh, this one of just sheer confusion.

What the actual fuck was that?! Were we… should I have… fuuuck me.

He sighed as Tyler came back to the bar with more drinks in had, having overheard Rebecca asking for another round. The older man just gave him s certain look. The one that told him that the guy knew exactly what was on Adrian’s mind. 

“Are you beating yourself up for something you had no control over?” Tyler said, supporting his weight with his hands as he leaned against the bar. 

“I… maybe,” Adrian said. “It’s just… I don’t know if it would be the right time, or if there even is such thing as a ‘right time.’ I want this to go further but… well, I don’t want to make her do anything she doesn’t want to. I don’t… I don’t want to risk losing her. She’s one of my best friends, man.”

Tyler was, perhaps, the only person in the entire world that Adrian felt at all comfortable discussing this kind of stuff with. Sure, M had given him some advice, and Maya teased him about his obvious infatuation constantly, but that was really all that came of those interactions. It wasn’t that they didn’t care, it was that this kind of stuff just felt awkward when he tried to bring it up with them. Tyler, on the other hand, listened carefully, offered his honest opinion on how things were progressing, and didn’t try to meddle any further than that. 

“You are very different people, but that’s not to say it isn’t possible for something to grow from your friendship. I’ve seen it happen before,” Tyler said. “Don’t let go of that torch you’re holding quite yet. Wait for her to come to you.”

“You’re sure about that?” he asked, slightly nervous, the finger of his cyberarm tapping lightly against the grain of the wood. “I mean, there are times where I think we start going somewhere, and then we just go back to how we were before we started flirting. It’s… confusing. And a little frustrating.”

“Trust me Adrian, when that woman wants something, she goes for it. She’s been the instigator of each of her relationships over the years. When she’s ready, she’ll come to you.”

“If that’s even what she wants this to be,” Adrian said with a sigh, staring down into the glass of whiskey that Tyler had poured for him.

“Oh, I wouldn’t count yourself out just yet,” the muscular bartender said. He knew how that little woman’s mind worked, and she was clearly falling for Adrian fast, and vice versa. “Keep on, for now. Just keep doing what you’ve been doing, and you’ll be fine.”

Meanwhile, Rebecca stared at herself in the women’s bathroom mirror, her face completely blank as she tried to express her actual emotions in this space, where no one else could see her, and no one could judge her. She took a deep breath bringing her hands up to her face… and was immediately thankful for the fact that this room was partially sound dampened as she screamed into her hands. 

“Holy fuck that was so fucking hot! God, I wanted to kiss him so badly! Why the fuck didn’t I kiss him?! I should’ve kissed him! It would’ve been perfect! GAH! I feel like such a fucking gonkhead right now!”

Eventually, she managed to calm down, getting all of the frustration out of her system so that she could look at the situation objectively. And her rant hadn’t been wrong. It would’ve been awesome - a perfect end to this building tension between herself and her best friend. It would be so… easy. So easy and pleasant and perfect.

But that was part of the problem. She had taken that approach in all her other relationships, and she’d been disappointed, ghosted, and even cheated on. Hell, one of her exes had actually cheated on her with another one of her exes, who’d also cheated on her! That one… that one had stung. She wanted to make sure that this one was different. It… felt different. Deeper. She wasn’t sure how, but when she thought of Adrian, he…

“God, I’m getting butterflies just thinking about him now.” That hadn’t happened in a long, long time. Hell, it hadn’t actually happened after her first relationship. It sucked that the guy had cheated on her and then proceeded to fuck her first girlfriend behind her back, because otherwise she might’ve remembered those times a lot more fondly than she did now. 

A few images of Adrian came to mind, the genuine joy on his face as he gave her the modified Crusher she still had yet to name, The laughter as they told each other outrageous stories about everything that they’d been up to in Night City. The care in his gaze as she told him about the latest dumbass that had taken her appearance as a token of weakness and proven them wrong with her iron and her grit. 

“I don’t want to fuck this up…” she said, looking herself in the mirror. “It’s gonna work out, Rebecca. You’re a hot sexy piece of ass and he’s… also a hot, sexy piece of ass; but that’s not the point. You don’t need to make the first move. You can let this… let this breathe. Wait until the time is right. You care about him, and he cares about you. You’re not sure how, but the feelings are there, and deep down, that’s what’s going to make a long-term relationship work out. Trust and genuine affection. Now go out there and talk to him.”

She took a few moments to freshen herself up further as, out by the bar, Adrian politely waited for her to return so that they could continue drinking together. He breathed, keeping Tyler’s advice in mind. He was right. Rebecca did seem like the kind of gal who’d be the pursuer in her relationship dynamics. 

He wasn’t completely sure about his feelings, sometimes feeling deeper than her appearance, sometimes caught up in her sheer beauty, and other times an odd mix of the two that he couldn’t describe with words. But he did know that, at the very least, that he cared about her a great deal. So he made e a promise to himself, then and there. If Rebecca hadn’t made a move in two months, he… he would make the move himself. Take the risk and ask her out. 

[I’m going to hold you to that, you know.]

Right, I forget you’re in my head sometimes. 

[Just as long as you know.]

Rebecca came back from the bathroom then, hopping back into her stool as she reached out for her new mix. “Anything interesting happened when I was in the ladies room?”

Adrian raised a brow at that, jokingly replying, “What lady?”

She laughed at that, lightly slapping him on the shoulder as she replied. “Fuck off, choom; you know what I mean.”

“Eh, nothing, really,” Adrian said. “Just talking to Tyler a bit.”

“Anything in particular?”

“Nothing interesting, that’s for damn sure,” Adrian said. He couldn’t just up and admit that he’d been talking to Tyler about his feelings for her, could he? That would defeat the whole point of Tyler’s confidentiality. 

“Mm. That’s a shame,” Rebecca said. “So, how’s the search for work going?”

Adrian sighed. “Not quite as well as I’d like, but I’m not under any real pressure right now. I can afford to wait a little bit, at least. Regina’s still looking for work. I think it might be time for me to start expanding my fixer pool.”

“Really now? Well, I can probably introduce you to Wakako, if you’d like. She’s a scary bitch, but she gives good work and pays good money.”

“That’d be much appreciated.”

The conversation continued on for a while, and an hour passed as they talked, joked and occasionally flirted, never stepping nearly as close to the line between friendship and romance as they had earlier that night, the fineness of that line becoming blurrier and blurrier by the day. And as Rebecca was leaning into Adrian with a side hug, another drink held in her hand as they laughed at one of her stories from her Mox days, a voice rang through Adrian’s head.

[Adrian. You might want to hear this.]

Hear what? he asked, confused. I’m listening plenty already.

[Not to Rebecca, to the two men who walked in twenty minutes ago.]

That caught his attention. He could vaguely recall the door to The Garden of Choice allowing entrance to a pair of masculine guests that night, one of them a slightly portly Hispanic man in his mid thirties, the other a fit Asian man in his late twenties. Both had looked slightly haggard, but the latter of the two also seemed… haunted. 

Where did they sit? Alcohol was still in his system, but Adrian worked though the buzz, trying to sober himself up as much as possible. Though it had been light training compared to everything else, M had insisted that Adrian learn what it was like to feel the effects of various drugs in his system, with alcohol being the most plentiful among them. So much so that he’d actually fought the man while drunk. He’d lost, of course, but he could coordinate himself much better than if he’d had no training at all. 

[Third table to your right, near the wall.]

It wasn’t far, and Adrian was able to make out their voices as he tried to focus on them. Rebecca seemed to notice that his attention wasn’t fully on her anymore, and she looked at him in a bit of concern.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” she asked, head tilting slightly as her lips worked itself into the smallest of frowns. It was a cute expression, and might have elicited a certain reaction were he not suddenly aware of something concerning enough for Deck to interrupt his time with Rebecca when he’d sworn to staying out of those affairs altogether.

Adrian quickly started up a text chain with her, allowing the two of them to communicate silently while the men at the table conversed. It seemed to be light conversation right now, but the Asian man’s face was clearly falling further and further as he spoke. There was something on his mind, and he’d be spilling it soon.

ADRIAN

Third table to the right, near the wall.

There’s a pair of guys there. They’re talking about something.

REBECCA

is that even important??? c’mon, man; we’re drinking here.

and I doubt they’d actually start anything if they were planning it. last guy who tried to shoot up the garden caught a facefull of buckshot curtesy of Tyler.

ADRIAN

One of them’s definitely Arasaka. There’s a company logo near the hem of his shirt, and I can see some cyberware near his collar that’d only be used in-house.

REBECCA

oh. that… okay, that’s fucking weird. corpos don’t come to this bar - not ever. what’s one doing here?

ADRIAN

That’s what I’m hoping to find out.

Adrian started tuning into the conversation across the low buzz of noise in the room and the tingle of alcohol in his veins. It was a bit hard to concentrate through the combination of distraction, but Rebecca kept him calm, if only by her presence. He breathed, and listened to them speak of things that were growing heavy and weary.

“I still don’t get it, cabron,” the Hispanic man said, sipping on a mug of beer as the night whittled away. “What was so damn horrible about that night that it’s making you consider leaving your corporation? I’ve seen some pretty fucking terrible shit as part of Trauma for most of my life - it comes with the job. Weren’t you prepared for something like this?”

“I… it is a harrowing tale, old friend,” the Asian man replied in heavily accented English - the lilt and cadence suggested that he was Japanese, which only further cemented Adrian’s assumption that this man worked for Arasaka. It was a primarily Japanese company, after all, even this late into the twenty-first century. “And not one that I should speak of without warning you about what you are asking me to tell.”

“Damn. Now I’ve gotta know. What’s got you all worked up, Yuri?”

“It… almost three months ago, we were called in to work with a certain exec, as a favor that our superior owed to him. I had never seen him before, and I haven’t seen him since. He led us to a house in Watson. It was a small thing. A single story, a few rooms, hardly anything worth noting in the whole place. We went into the there. There was a family of three. A mother and her children - siblings, a brother and a sister.”

And it was with a sudden horror that Adrian understood what the man was describing. This guy - this Yuri, whoever the hell he was - he had been there the night his mother had been shot in front of him. Had been there when Faraday had callously given the order to set the home alight with them inside. Had been there when fire consumed his home in a raging inferno that had taken everything from him. 

“We were looking for a gun. Something of sentimental value, according to the man who gave our superior the assignment. A tracker had been placed in it’s case, but by the time we got there, the weapon itself had been hidden. We didn’t know where, and the logical next step was to question the family who had taken it. No one… no one was supposed to die that night. But that man we were with - he… he had different plans, as though he was suddenly hit with inspiration of the darkest kind. He said that ‘we were too late.’ That the family had already gone up in flames when we got here, and that the family tragically perished inside. And we… made it so. It cost four of us our lives. But we made it so.”

Adrian’s fist had clenched so tightly that he was surprised that his nails hadn’t broken skin. He couldn’t comprehend that this man felt guilty, that he felt remorse, or that he was even considering leaving Arasaka altogether. In that moment, all he could focus on was that this man had been there when his mother had been shot, when he and his sister had been left to die, when his home had started burning to the ground with them inside. He had been there. And he had done nothing. Not a damned thing. Yuri continued nonetheless.

“The fire wasn’t hard to start, Jorge. One of us just overloaded the fusebox. It was a cheap thing. No firewalls to get past. Just a few switches to flip. It wasn’t quite catching, though, so one of us took… took a canister of CHOOH2 and poured it on the wall. The fire spread pretty easy after that. The man said that it would be a good way to leverage it against the man who’d given this assignment to our superior, that gaijin Williams. That it was worth it. We stayed as the fire spread, just to make sure no one survived. The man, he called someone, had them scrub any nearby cameras of footage, just to be sure. Once the blaze had consumed most of the home, we got in our vehicles and left. But under it all, the noises and the hiss and crackle and snap of the fire as it took the life of a family that deserved better, as we drove away into the night… I thought I heard screams. Of anger and pain and utter loathing. As though… as though they were cursing us with their dying breaths. 

“That is why I’m leaving, Jorge. Because I hear those screams in my dreams, cursing me with their echoing tenor. I have tried everything to make them stop. But nothing works. So, perhaps… perhaps if I leave, they will go. Perhaps if I leave, I will lessen this burden on my shoulders. Perhaps… perhaps I will even be able to sleep at night without waking from nightmares. Without having to drink myself into a stupor.”

Jorge’s expression looked genuinely shocked at this declaration. The man took a much longer pull from his beer this time, draining most of the glass before he set it back on the table with a loud clinking of glass on wood. “… you realize what this will mean for you? Arasaka doesn’t like to let people go unless it leaves them either penniless or in a body bag.”

“Yes,” Yuri replied. “But I want to find… some measure of peace with this. And I’ll never do that if I stay with Arasaka.”

“Alright,” Jorge said. “If you really need to, I’ll let you stay at mine for a few weeks, until you get a job outside of Arasaka. Just be careful. Even if you leave… they have ways of keeping their hooks in people.”

Yuri nodded. The rest of their conversation was largely silent, small talk that didn’t leave to anything deeper than a few sentences of conversation. Rebecca was squeezing Adrian’s hand, trying to get his attention. His focus didn’t move for several seconds before he acknowledged her gradually strengthening grip on his hand, which had gotten a bit painful in the meantime. 

“Adrian, what’s going on?” she asked, concern in her eyes. “You eyes, they… went cold. And not like they do in the middle of a fight either.”

“It’s nothing-”

“Don’t start with that,” she interrupted, cutting off his objection at the root. “I am your friend. If something is happening, I’ll help. So what is going on?”

.

..

…

“… I’ll tell you in a bit,” he promised, voice losing the cold monotone that it had suddenly gained, Guilt started eating at him, but he shoved it down with a force of will. “I promise. But right now, I need to follow that Asian guy. It’s important.”

“In what way?”

“… in a personal way,” he admitted. He knew that she had heard at least most of that conversation that he’d eavesdropped on, and that she was likely piecing things together on her own. “Just… trust me? For now? I know I’m asking a lot, asking that without an explanation but… I need this, Rebecca.”

“… alright,” she said. She firmed her handhold, rolling her thumb over his knuckles in a show of silent comfort. “Lead the way.”

Two people followed an Arasaka agent on a walk through Night City in the middle of the night, the crowds less dense than those found in the daytime, but no less intense for the reduction in foot traffic. Adrian had been trained a little in infiltration techniques, in taking people out silently, but M had also been recently training him in stealth in public. It was entirely different from infiltration stealth, which involved not being seen, staying quiet and taking people out when necessary. Stealth in public involved falling into rhythm with a crowd, becoming part of the background. Just another face that was skipped over by people who weren’t looking for you.

Tailing someone wasn’t one of Adrian’s skills, but the barest of basics were a part of his stealth training. Rebecca was less experienced in overall stealth, but she knew a lot more about blending in than he did. She’d apparently served as a focal point in more than one honeypot scheme for her crew; fitting, given her background as a Mox. Still, he’d taken a bit of the lead and wrapped an arm around her. If anyone looked, they’d probably assume that they were either close friends or a couple, and Rebecca helped the illusion by leaning into him, wrapping her own arm around his side. 

“Feels like we’re on a date,” she whispered to him, head leaning into his shoulder. “Or it would if we weren’t following this guy.”

“Yeah,” he replied, noting the somewhat close atmosphere the low din of mindless conversation surrounded them with. “I think he’s heading for the NCART. Probably gonna take it to Japantown.”

“Why Japantown?” she asked.

“He’s Japanese and Arasaka. Most of their lower level grunts live in Japantown, or at least in the general Westbrook area.” He’d know, too. He’d lived there for the last few months, after all. “Also helps that they’ve got a lot of connections to the Tyger Claws.”

“Have you had any problems with those guys? We did take out one of their stops,” Rebecca asked. 

“It’s been almost two months, hasn’t it? I think they’d have shown up at my front door by now if they were going to do anything. Plus, the job got sanctioned by Wakako, so it’s not like a lot of people are sorry that they’re dead,” Adrian noted.

“True. Lean your head against mine and smile - don’t look directly at the guy, he’s about to turn around.”

Adrian did so, the two of them doing their best impression of a wayward couple while Yuri searched the crowd behind him. After about ten seconds of searching, he seemed satisfied that no one was following him and quickly moved on from the street, making headway towards the NCART station.

“He’s moving on?” Adrian asked, afraid to look away from Rebecca. The short woman turned from the lock of eyes, instead observing the street until the found the back of the man’s head. 

“Yeah - heading straight for the NCART, like you said.”

“We’ll have to get on the same car if we want to keep track of him,” Adrian said as he shuffled around in his wallet for his NCART card. “You got an NCART pass?”

“Doesn’t everyone?” she said, flipping her own between her fingers as though it were some kind of coin before she stowed it back in her hoodie jacket. “How do you wanna approach?”

“A few seconds after him on the other side of the car - shouldn’t raise any suspicions if we act normal.”

“Mm. If only I weren’t so sexy - your plan might actually work,” Rebecca said, lightly dragging her hand down her form and drawing attention to the fact that her hoodie was still only half closed.

“It will,” Adrian said, slowly and deliberately closing her hoodie with a slow, upward drag. “Trust me.”

A few seconds passed before Rebecca turned back to the path ahead of them, taking his hand in hers as they continued on to the NCART station. There was a steady through-line of traffic in and out of the place - there always was, even at this time of the night. Yuri swiped his card on the reader with what appeared to be practiced ease, and Adrian and Rebecca did the same, quickly following him further in to the station. While there had been a time when the NCART was almost exclusively accessed via digital passes, that had led to a rampant amount of fraud regarding certain Netrunner circles, and they had swapped to physical keys to keep such a thing from happening again. Of course, using physical keys presented different problems, but someone in Night Corp was apparently working on a solution to that problem, although it had been a few years since that promise had been made and there was no notable progress made as of yet.

Yuri was bouncing his heel against the concrete of the floor, the nervous energy in his body clearly requiring some kind of outlet. The crowd around him were in various states of irritation, from those who were content to wait for the train and others who seemed as though even a brief wait was a personal insult. Adrian had never personally found much reason to be anything but the former. He’d long since learned to live with the delays associated with the NCART, and Rebecca was of a similar mindset.

“Think he’s nervous?” she asked, disguising the question as a sensual, whispered question in his ear. His hand had fallen to her waist as they waited, a smile on Rebecca’s face. 

“Probably,” Adrian said, leaning into her own ear to whisper his response to her. He recalled some of what he’d earlier in the bar, this time with a bit of emotional distance from the conversation as he focused on what he had actually said. The man was considering leaving Arasaka altogether. It was a lot. It wouldn’t change when he had done, what he had been a part of that night. But it was far more than some were willing to do in repentance. 

That didn’t mean he would forgive the man. He wasn’t sure he could.

Eventually, the tram came, and he got on. A few seconds later, Adrian and Rebecca entered after him, taking up a rare pair of free seats as they pressed into each other, miming a passionate embrace while Yuri continued to be relatively oblivious to their presence.

“He hasn’t noticed us yet?” she asked from her position, half buried in his shoulder.

“No,” he whispered back, lips nearly brushing the skin of her cheek. “He seems more focused on something in his head rather than anything out here. Act natural.”

They leaned into each other as the tram continued onward, rocking and moving and shuffling the standing passengers about, forcing them to grip rails and hanging handles to keep their balance. Adrian saw a young picksocket making thier moves on some of the more inattentive people in the tram. Given his thin frame, he couldn’t completely blame the kid for trying to get money any way he could. 

Still, when he made his way towards him and Rebecca, the young merc made eye contact with him, giving him a pointed look that suggested knowledge of his actions and current indifference. The young man seemed to pick up on it, leaving him and Rebecca alone as the tram continued towards it’s destination.

It came to stop with a slow, grinding screech, which Yuri managed to ride out with as much grace as the average Night City denizen - not much, but enough that he didn’t topple into the person next to him. He exited the tram into the next station of the NCART, and as before, Adrian and Rebecca followed him shortly after, up the stairs and out into the streets of Westbrook, where he would make his way into Japantown.

“We’ll need to make our move soon,” he said, knowing that the man’s apartment was likely close. His somewhat quickened pace suggested that he was eager to return to some semblance of familiarity. “Otherwise he’ll slip through our grasp.”

Rebecca nodded. “Do you think he’ll turn off into an alley?”

“Maybe - there are a lot of back alley routes in Japantown. Let’s just hope he takes one of them.” If he didn’t Adrian could always get to the man later through his route - though he would vastly prefer grabbing him tonight. The only iron that Adrian had on him at the moment was Reckoning and Calamity, his other weapons left in the trunk of his car for general storage purposes. He didn’t see any signs that the man was carrying iron on him, but so many people in Night City did so that it’d be foolish to not consider the likelihood that he had an underarm holster or something of that sort.

Minutes passed through crowds and busied sidewalk markets, stands selling everything from cheap jewelry to fried foods that Adrian knew some proper names for, and others which he did not. Rebecca had her outside hand in her jacket pocket now, fingering at her Omaha. Yuri started to turn off, making his way towards a side alley with visible comfort, as though the quiet place had always been a comfort to him. 

Adrian and Rebecca followed, drawing weapons as they entered the relative confines of the alleyway, blank walls, garbage dumpsters and flush corners. Rebecca took her tech pistol from her pocket, looking to Adrian to follow his lead. The young merc thought for a moment about whether or not he should use Reckoning for this. It would be safer. It would be more logical. It would simply draw less attention. 

But Adrian found that, in that moment, he was feeling appropriately dramatic, and took Calamity from the holster at his back. He pulled back the slide of the weapon to check his ammunition, satisfied that it was appropriately loaded. He ignored the look of shock and apprehension on the face of the short woman next to him, and stepped forward.

His boots were almost silent against the bare concrete of the alleyway as Rebecca aimed down the sights of her Omaha, covering him as he approached. He was almost on Yuri, a bare half foot away, when the man reacted, pulling a firearm of his own out of his jacket - an Arasaka Tamayura, a rare and outdated weapon that Adrian was legitimately surprised to see being used. That didn’t stop him from grasping the man’s arm mid-swing with his hand of flesh and jamming the barrel of Calamity painfully in the man’s side, pointedly and silently telling the man exactly how much danger he was in at that very moment.

“Good evening, Yuri,” Adrian said in Japanese, tone neutral and face stony. “We need to talk.”

“Shall this talk end in my death?” Yuri asked in perfect rhythm, indicating Japanese as his first language. “In that case, I would rather you shoot me now, Arasaka dog. You will get nothing more from me.”

Adrian chuckled at the man’s assumption, which seemed to put him only further on edge. The young merc then squeezed some muscles in the man’s hand, causing a wince of pain and a clatter of a weapon. It was a trick of M’s - that sufficient pain in a wrist lock could sometimes cause someone to drop their weapon reflexively. It didn’t always work, but it did often enough that M had taught him how to execute it. 

“Grab his gun, please,” he requested, the white and pink form of Rebecca quickly complying, picking up the gun in her off hand and pointing it at the man. A strange irony, using someone’s own weapon against them. “Thank you.

“Now then, Mr. Yuri… I’m going to ask you some questions,” Adrian continued, switching back to Japanese. “You are going to answer them honestly. And before you even think about lying to me… trust me when I say I’ll know. Answer honestly, and you might live through the night.”

“What do you want from me you-”

“I do not work for any corporation, fool,” Adrian interrupted, pushing the barrel of his gun further into his side. “You have information I want. You want to leave this alleyway alive. Cooperate, and we might both leave this little interaction with those wants satisfied. Agreed?”

Yuri laughed at that statement. “Ironic. You say you are no corporate dog, yet you use their tactics. Are you any better?”

“I don’t particularly care about being better than them. Not when it comes to this.”

Yuri looked into Adrian’s mismatched eyes for a long, silent moment, as though contemplating something. He seemed to find what he was looking for, reluctantly nodding as Adrian stepped back, shoving him against a wall as he held him at gunpoint, Rebecca still silently covering him from behind. 

The agent’s eyes drifted to the barrel of Calamity, as though he were perplexed by the gun itself. Sure, it was an oddity of a firearm, especially if it were viewed at that angle, but it didn’t seem to go further than that, at least for the moment. He started asking his questions then. 

“Were you present for a raid on a home on May twentieth, twenty seventy five?”

“Yes,” he answered, promptly and without hesitation.

“How many men were part of the raid?” he had recalled at least eight, but it was possible there could’ve been more, even if that would’ve been overkill.

“Ten, not including our temporary commander. Four were killed by a single assailant-”

“I know that,” Adrian interrupted. “What are the names of the ones who survived?”

For this, Yuri looked visibly hesitant. He was being asked to give up people he’d worked with for some time to a man holding him at gunpoint. He managed to wring together some courage and asked Adrian a simple question. “Why?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m going to track them down.”

“And kill them?”

“That entirely depends on them. Now… names. Please.”

Yuri still hesitated for a few moments, though he was eying the firearms pointed at him with visible concern now. A long second of silence passed before a sigh of defeat came from his lips, his form slumping as he gave up the names of his former comrades. “Shinji Takeda. Ken Watanabe. Eric Wong. Elizabeth Quinn. Kana Forger.”

Adrian repeated the names, both aloud and in his mind, to make sure that Deck had heard them too, and that he had gotten them right in the first place. Rebecca’s gaze flicked to him for a brief second, but quickly found themselves back on Yuri, as though reminding herself that she did actively have someone at gunpoint. 

“The man who led your team on that raid. What do you know of him?”

Yuri seemed to be coming to some kind of conclusion in his mind - that much was clear on his face, but he seemed to answer honestly. “All I really know about him is his name, his face, and that he works for a different corporation than Arasaka. Sharp features, perhaps part Asian, three eyes on the right side of his face.”

“Tall and lithe like a spider?”

“… I suppose that is an accurate description of the man, yes. His name-”

“I know it. I know it too well,” he said, anger audible even through the overt niceties afforded through Japanese. “But if I hear it spoken aloud right now, I just might become angry enough in the moment to up and shoot you despite my promises. Let’s not tempt fate.”

Yuri slowly nodded, gulping unconsciously as he realized exactly how close to death he had come in a single moment. “Ask the rest of the questions.”

And Adrian did. Truth be told, these we less important than the ones that had been asked earlier. Did he know where the other members lived or liked to socialize? Were any of them affiliated with the Tyger Claws? Did they have any particular vices that could be exploited? They all had some variety of answer that Deck packed away to be analyzed later down the line, when they had more time. 

Yuri seemed to sense that Adrian was now out of questions, and almost seemed to relax. “Are you done, then?”

“Not quite,” Adrian said, taking a few steps forward and making sure that the man’s back was placed flush against the wall of the alleyway. “Do you know why you were there that night? Why you were really there?”

Yuri gulped, his eyes fully on the barrel of the gun as he answered. “W-we were sent to retrieve a gun. Something of significant sentimental value to the one who made the request of us. Williams, his name was - a foreigner who climbed the ranks the old fashioned way. Other than that, I know nothing of him, or this weapon we were sent to find. We never managed to find it.”

“Yes. But you were never told what the weapon looked like, did you? Only told about the case and that it was rare.”

Yuri nodded, confirming Adrian’s assumption. This Williams had tried to retrieve the firearm without raising any suspicion, but he had made a mistake in delegating it to an outside task force. It had allowed Faraday to order what had been done that night. Gesturing behind him for Rebecca to step up and keep her guns pointed at Yuri, Adrian took two steps back from the man.

“Well, it seems I’ll be answering one of your questions after all, Yuri. You want to know why you were there that night? This is why.”

Adrian angled Calamity in his grip, showing the gun in a side profile view. Though it had been painted a different color from the standard Malorian silver and grey to the starkly contrasting black and red that Adrian preferred, the engraved logo and it’s own profile were unmistakable to anyone who knew about top-end firearms. Given the widening of Yuri’s eyes, his jaw going slightly slack, it was clear that he was one of those who knew of this model’s infamous history.

“A Malorian Arms 3516. One of the most infamous weapons in modern myth. And one of the rarest handguns ever developed,” Adrian said, pointing the gun back at him. The Tech portion of the weapon whirred silently to life, emphasizing his point. He did not fire it, though. His finger wasn’t even on the trigger. No. “This is what you went there for. What you destroyed my life for. What my mother died for. For nothing but this. Fucking. Gun.”

Comprehension dawned on the man, looking to Adrian’s eyes with a sudden familiarity, latching onto the burn scar that covered so much of his face. “You are…”

“The only son.”

Silence reigned in the wake of Adrian’s cold, merciless answer. And Yuri understood, then, exactly why he had been followed. Exactly what he had done. And that his life was well and truly at the mercy of someone who had been truly wronged by him and his.

“I suppose my life was forfeit the moment I entered this alley, then,” Yuri said, visibly defeated in that moment. “I cannot say I do not deserve it. Even before that night, I did bad things. But that… that was perhaps one of the few that I could consider truly immoral. I know that it means nothing, and that it will change nothing in the grand scheme of things. But I am truly, terribly sorry for everything that happened that night. And for everything that came after. It was, in a way, the fault of me and everyone there that things happened as they did. If I might make a single request… make it quick. I know I have no right to ask, but… I would hope to greet death as myself and as I am, in all of my faults, than as a tortured and anguished soul.”

.

..

…

“… no.”

“… what?”

Adrian holstered Calamity at his back again, gesturing for Rebecca to drop the Tamayura to the ground. She looked at him askance for a moment, but complied, letting the weapon clatter down with the click of gunmetal against pavement, though she still had her Omaha pointed right at his forehead. 

“No. You will not die today, Yuri,” Adrian said, kneeling down to look the slouching man in the eye. “Because unlike others who I’ve seen dispense death, you feel remorse. So much so that you are actively planning to leave Arasaka. That is far more than many in your stead would do. 

“Do not mistake this for forgiveness. I don’t think I’ll be able to forgive any of you for what happened that night. Those who care to know the consequences of what they have done will carry that weight, pain and guilt for the rest of their lives. I sentence you to live with what you have done. And that is a far more fitting punishment for you than anything I could possibly think up.”

“… and those who do not?”

“Will die. As simple as that.”

Yuri nodded as though in acceptance. He took his Tamayura slowly from the ground by it’s barrel, standing with his hands visible to the side, slightly above his head as he stood in tandem with Adrian. Then, he asked another question. “Why show me all of this? Why… why let me live and trust that I will keep my silence? Why take the risk?”

“Because I doubt that someone who’s planning to leave Arasaka would tell them anything that was said here today. And because… I think you know, somewhere in that head of yours, that at least some of the people I’ll be tracking have it coming. And that they deserve no forewarning.”

Yuri looked at him for a few moments, face blank, before he shrugged. “Maybe. I will keep my silence. But I will do nothing more.”

Adrian nodded in acknowledgement, silently gesturing for Rebecca to put her gun down. He switched back to English as he began to walk away. “Have a good night, Yuri. If fate is kind to us, then you will never see me again.”

“… I think we can both agree on that front,” the man replied in his accented English before he left the alley in the opposite direction, heading for his apartment. “Good night, and good luck. May we never have the misfortune to meet again.”

As Adrian turned the corner, he managed to get about five steps away from the alley before he slumped against the side of the wall, breathing heavily despite the fact that he hadn’t been in combat. His heart was thudding like a war drum in his ears, and he had to focus in order to slow his breath, from fast and rapid to slow and deep over the course of several long seconds. 

He had really been considering killing the man. In cold blood. In a back alley in Japantown like a common thug. It… was this the right thing? It was one thing to kill on a contract or in self-defense, but this… this was different. And he’d been ready to do it, too - would have done it, had the man not been so earnest in his remorse and his guilt. 

Close your heart to it, Adrian, he thought to himself. He knew that Deck could hear it - he could feel the AI fragment’s presence in the back of his mind, though it said nothing. Close your heart to it. Do not feel remorse for their deaths. They will feel none for yours.

Rebecca noticed his distress, walking over to him as he continued to breathe, to try and recover himself from what had just happened. She took his hand in her own again, her grip far gentler than it had been earlier. He looked down at her, pink and green eyes practically glowing against the contrast of her ivory white skin. Concern and worry was in that gaze, and curiosity as well.

“Are you okay?” For some reason, it was still a surprise to Adrian that those were the first words out of her mouth. A question of concern and not one of probing curiosity.

“… no,” he admitted. “No. But… I will be, in a bit.”

She nodded, not asking anything more despite evident curiosity. They stood there, against that wall in a busy night market in Japantown, as Adrian gathered his thoughts, got himself in order. 

“… I promised you an explanation. You’ll get it. Uh… do you mind getting ramen? There’s a good place nearby. I'll buy. And you… you’ll want to be sober for this.”

Twenty minutes later, the two managed to find the place that Adrian had heard about, an old fashioned, hole-in-the-wall place that Tyler recommended in case one was feeling the late-night munchies. It was a warm place with a surprisingly cozy atmosphere, with a few regulars making pleasant conversation and a stern, stocky woman serving ramen with a flair and finesse that Adrian had never seen applied to the preparation of food. 

“This is good,” Adrian said as slurped down a few noodles of Miso Beef Ramen, picking at a piece of meat with his chopsticks and placing it in his mouth. It practically melted on his tongue, the rich flavor of the beef complimented wonderfully by the Miso broth. “I think I could have a few more bowls.”

“That’s what they want, Shoulders,” Rebecca said as she ate her own Tonkotsu Pork Ramen, the double flavoring of pork adding a strong texture to the meal that honestly made Adrian tempted to try it himself. “It’s really, good, but we’ve gotta pace ourselves before we add on ten pounds by accident.”

He nodded in agreement, seeing her point even as he continued to eat his own portion with no less gusto than before. Eventually, the two finished their meals, Adrian with a long and satisfied sigh while Rebecca gave a loud burp.

“Liked it?” Adrian asked, a teasing tone in his voice. Rebecca just lightly made a chopping motion in his general direction, waving off the tease.

“Maybe. But… well, meal’s over now.”

The young merc’s face fell a bit as she said that. The tattooed woman was right, of course. He had promised her an explanation, and now… well, now there was nothing else in the way of an explanation for her questions. it felt… scary, telling someone else the fullness of what had really happened that night. Even someone like Rebecca, who already had many of the details, but little of the context. And he was about to put it all in order for her. Because he had promised he would. And Adrian never broke a promise if he could help it. His word was his bond. For better and for worse. 

“Yeah,” he acknowledged. “Yeah, I suppose it is. Ask your questions. I’ll do my best to answer them, but… please understand that some things might just be too… too painful for me to talk about.”

She nodded, quickly and easily. And that was that. That was her word - her bond of trust and her promise to him. Adrian smiled at her, a bit relieved. “Alright. I’m… as ready as I’ll ever be.”

“… who was that guy we were holding up?”

“One of the people who was there that night,” he replied, gesturing to the burn scar over his right eye. “The day just before I met you.”

Her eyes widened at that. “Then… wow, holy fuck. Were you going to kill him?”

“Would you have thought any less of me if I had?”

“No,” Rebecca said, immediately and without hesitation. “I’ve killed people for a lot less. We both have, honestly.”

Adrian smiled sadly at her. “I know.”

“I don’t know a lot of Japanese, but I know names when I hear ‘em. Are they the rest of the people who were there that night?”

“… yes.”

“Are you going to kill them?”

“That all depends on them.”

“What does that mean? And why did you spare this Yuri guy? What made him an exception?”

Adrian was silent for a few moments, an uncertainty about his decision to spare the man coming to the surface. Despite his own resolve in that alleyway, some doubt still remained. His own anxieties and fears were telling him that it had been a mistake, that he was going to do something bad and that it would be all his fault. He breathed. Slowly, and with purpose, he breathed, in and out, centering himself. 

“Because he wanted to change,” Adrian said. “He wanted a chance to be better than the man he was when that night happened. He felt genuine remorse that it happened, and… I won’t forgive them. Not him or anyone else who was involved. Not ever. But I would rather give the ones who feel remorse the chance to be better than snuff out that hope because of my own hatred. It’s… it’s the right thing to do.”

“… even if it hurts?” she asked, worry and sympathy in her voice.

“Even if it hurts,” he confirmed his cybernetic hand tightening into a fist. “Because… everyone deserves a chance to be better. Perhaps it will amount to nothing. Perhaps I’ll be disappointed. But I think it’s a better path than never giving people that chance at all.” 

Adrian had wanted to imagine, at least, what his mother would have wanted him to do. What she had wanted him to do in the end. Her last words were lost to him, forever stolen by death, fire and blood. But she was always, at her core, a good person. Or maybe he wanted to believe that. Believe that image of her in his mind. Because the truth was, she may well not have been a good person. That stance, the proficiency with a pistol - it was reminiscent of someone with years on years of training. Training that likely had not come from a good place or used for a good purpose. 

But still, he remembered her smile, the stupid games that she made up that always managed to entertain him and Maya for hours on end. The sound of laughter as they all sat around the TV to watch the latest trashy flick full of tropes and terrible jokes. That mother couldn’t be a mask. Not for them. Not back when they’d had the luxury of being truly happy. 

“… I suppose I should move on to my other questions, now,” Rebecca said, as though shaking herself out of a state. “That gun… it’s a Malorian 3516. One of the rarest heavy pistols ever made. Perhaps the single most infamous Borg weapon in the entire world. Why… why do you have one of them?”

“… it’s what doomed my family,” Adrian said. “It’s what the corpos came looking for. I managed to hide it. If I hadn’t, I’d have basically been giving them a free pass to shoot me and my whole family dead. Whole lot of good that did for us, in the end. My mom still died. I still lot my arm and eye. Maya and I lost our home. And now… now this is all we have left.”

Rebecca reached across the table and took his left hand in her right, gently squeezing at it to remind him that she was still right there. Adrian smiled at the show of support, shifting their handhold until he was squeezing her hand back in silent thanks. 

Though the handhold remained, the smile slowly slipped from her face. “There’s another one, isn’t there? One more person. Was he about to tell you their name?”

“… yeah.”

“Why didn’t you let him finish?”

“Because I know it,” he replied, letting out a breath heavy with the weight of pain and grief. “And because if I heard his name spoken aloud, I… I didn’t want to risk losing control - of making a choice in anger that I could not take back. So I asked him not to tell it.”

Rebecca nodded. “Okay. And… are you going to track him too?”

“No. He dies.”

That seemed to take her off guard a bit, after all his talk about chances of being better. He couldn’t blame her. It was a bit of a turn in topic. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah. I looked into his eyes - his fucking eyes, Rebecca, and… if that man had a soul, and this world had a devil, he’d have sold it long, long ago. Maybe he already has, in a sense. No one climbs the corporate ladder with bloodless hands. Not without a fuck ton of nepotism, anyway.”

“Yeah. I have to ask, though… this guy you’re looking to kill. Is it someone I know?”

Adrian wasn’t sure how to answer that. While it was technically true that she and Faraday knew each other, it was also true that she likely only had a professional relationship with him, and given the fact that Maine was the leader of her crew, it was entirely possible that she only knew him in passing, if that. Should he take that risk? 

He quashed the question as soon as it came to mind. Of course he would. This was his best friend. The only person he perhaps trusted more was his own little sister. He wasn’t about to doubt her sincerity. 

“Yes,” he said. “And I’ve learned things about him since then. Not much, but enough that I know he’s playing a particularly dangerous game.”

“What’s his name?” she asked, her voice sturdy and sharp as steel.

“… if I tell you his name, what’s to stop you from killing him as retribution on my behalf?” Adrian asked. 

“I… nothing,” she admitted, leaning her cheek into her other hand with a sigh. “Nothing at all. It just… knowing that someone’s out there, who did that to one of my friends… it fucking boils my blood - it makes me eager to fucking kill something.”

“I know,” Adrian said, smiling. “It’s part of what I like about you. You care about your friends, genuinely. And… it’s also why I’m not going to tell you his name. Not yet.

“I’m not saying this because I think you’re incapable - that’d be idiotic. But this… it’s gotta be me, Rebecca. Me and Maya, pulling that trigger for what he’s done to us. For what he’s taken from us. I’m sorry, but I just… it has to be us. Me and my sister. I hope you can understand that.”

She looked into Adrian’s eyes for a long, long stretch of time. The din of the outside world filtered in for just a moment, and customers coming and going from the shop as the ambiance of Night City in the evening filled the air with sound. She looked away, eventually. He wasn’t sure what she’d seen, but it had been enough. She came around, and she spoke once more. “Alright, fine. I’ll leave you to your peace for now. Fuckin’ puppy-dog eyes - why am I such a sucker for puppy-dog eyes…?”

“What was that?” Adrian asked, unable to hear Rebecca’s muffled last sentence, as though frustrated with herself.

“Nothing, nothing,” she said, waving it off as she fought a rush of blood coming to her ivory cheeks. One of the disadvantages of having artificially white skin was the fact that any color added to said skin would stand out all the more, as her tattoos evidenced. “It’s just… I’m kinda jealous of you, y’know?”

Adrian quirked a brow at that, confusion plain across his features. “Jealous? Of me? Why would you be jealous of me?”

“Not like a ‘wow, I hate him for having this thing I want’ kind of jealousy, but… you can see stuff from such a different perspective than me. Even though that guy was part of the worst night of your life, you… gave him a chance to be better. And it… I don’t think I would’ve been able to do that. It’s odd. I envy it, but at the same time… it’s not something that I’d be able to do, I think.”

Adrian shrugged. “Grass is always greener on the other side. Everyone wants something that they don’t have. I mean, if I’m being totally honest, I would love to have your confidence and boldness sometimes. It’d, uh… certainly solve some problems here on my end.”

“Maybe. But I guess… even if you don’t forgive them, you’re still trying to move on. It’s… kinda amazing. I mean, I’m nothing special. Not here. I’m just another merc who’s trying to get by as best they can. Hell, I’m not even the first former sex worker to take up the merc mantle. I gotta wonder…”

“Wonder what?” Adrian asked.

“Forget it - it’s stupid,” she said, pulling her hand from the ever present handhold that they’d been in until now.

“Rebecca,” Adrian said, tone firm, stopping her in her tracks. He continued after a moment, voice softer and more caring. “You trusted me when I asked you to come with me and follow Yuri, despite my… well, concerning lack of explanation at the time. The least I can do is sit down and listen to what you have on your mind.”

His hand was still there on the table, upturned. He didn’t move it, neither to take her in his nor to take it back to his side. She stared at it for a few moments, hesitant and nervous. But, eventually, she slowly reached her hand back out to take his, and the moment their hands reconnected, a weight seemed taken from her shoulders.

“… I have to wonder… if killing and sex and looking pretty are all I’m good for,” she admitted. “Forgiveness… the concept isn’t foreign, but I’m not a very forgiving person. I’ve been cruel, sometimes. Had to be. Night City’s not a place where good people live long, good lives. But I think… I dunno. I look back on some of the things I’ve done, and wondered if… maybe I could’ve done something different. Maybe I could’ve at least… given them some kind of chance or just… tried to be more understanding. I dunno. There probably isn’t a perfect answer to this dilemma I’m in. But I guess… I guess your talk of giving people the chance to be better, it… brought this up in me, I guess. Sorry for putting this all on you.”

“Rebecca,” Adrian said, gently squeezing her hand as she had done for him. “It’s not stupid for you to be worried. I can’t say I fully understand it, but I know what it’s like to doubt yourself. So I’m going to say this now, because you’re my friend and I care about you a lot.”

The young merc gently put his hands on her cheeks, making sure Rebecca was looking him right in the eye as he went on. “You are one of the kindest people I’ve ever met. You listen and you care so deeply about the people you’re close to. I might not know as much about Night City as you do, but I know that kind of compassion is truly, genuinely rare. Rebecca… you brought me out of a dark place that I might never have gotten out of on my own, and I can’t thank you enough for helping me. Even when you didn’t need to. So please believe me when I say that… we might not be good people. We kill and steal and fight fuckers all the time. But you… you might be one of the only genuinely good people in this whole damn city. Always believe that. And even if you won’t… I always will.”

.

..

…

Tears welled up in her eyes, an expression of confusion, shock, and joyous relief came over her all at once as thin paths of wetness trailed from her eyes to the wood of the table below them. She hadn’t expected Adrian to say something like… that. There was an earnest honesty in those eyes, mismatched as they were. Something that had been evident even all the way back when they’d first met almost three months ago. It was a comfort to see that, even after everything that had happened since then, they had never lost that glimmer, that honesty.

I really am a sucker for puppy-dog eyes.

She smiled back at him through her tears, her hands coming up to cover his own, finding warmth in the contact that sent a strange shiver down her spine. It was comforting and kind, but it also felt… intimate. That was the best word she had for it. Intimate. And an urge came up in her then. One that she’d suppressed back at the bar, feeling that it wasn’t the time, that she needed to wait. But this…

Kiss him.

… this felt right.

“Adrian?” she asked, wiping the tears away from her eyes. “Can I ask you to do something?”

“Uh… yeah, sure,” he said. 

“Could you… close your eyes for a moment?”

He looked a little confused at that, but acquiesced to her request a moment later. His eyes closed promptly, blinding him to the world… and the risk she was about to take. She just hoped this wasn’t a mistake. She would still take this slow. She still wanted to let this relationship breathe and figure out exactly what he meant to her. But frankly, she was tired of feeling as though she was standing around at the starting line. 

She leaned across the table, took his cute face in her hands, and pressed her lips to his. It wasn’t her first kiss, but holy fuck did it feel electric enough to trick her mind into thinking that, if only for a moment. A tingling radiated from the contact, a rolling warmth that subsumed her, that made her want more - made her hunger for something more intimate. She controlled herself, knowing that this was as far as she was willing to go, and that even this much might still be a risk. 

But just as she started pulling back, doubt creeping into her mind, that maybe this hadn’t been the right time after all, Adrian’s lips chased hers, connection reestablished as he started kissing her back. Her heart just about exploded. 

And so, the night came to a close, one man’s life spared and a connection, forged and established. Where the man would go from here? It was not for the two in the ramen shop to know. But, as it turns out… the right man in the wrong place can make all the difference in the world. But perhaps not in a way that any of us expected. The curtain closes, as two friends become something more, at their own pace, in their own time. One does not rush love, not if they wish it to last. It must be built, tended to and nurtured over years of mutual effort and shared experience. But it must always start somewhere.

Chapter Text

August 18th, 2077

Night City, CA.

9:21 am PST.

4 months before a certain car accident.

Adrian stared up at the ceiling of his apartment as he was again reminded of Rebecca’s lips against his own, soft and tender and loving in almost every way. Nothing else had come of it that night, other than a rather extended goodbye at his apartment that had involved plenty of kissing. 

But still, they hadn’t really… talked about it afterwards. It had been three days since he had seen her in person, and it had been virtual radio silence ever since. It was nerve wracking, to say the least. It wasn’t like he could blame her for being nervous - hell, he was nervous himself! Even if that felt a little out of touch with the person she was in his mind. 

Plus, she’s definitely been in more relationships that I have, Adrian thought to himself. I just wish I knew what she was thinking about me. I don’t want her to regret what happened that night.

He might not have initiated anything, but he’d definitely participated in the makeout sessions that had occurred afterwards. She had too - and rather enthusiastically at that, but his doubts were starting to eat at him after three days of silence. He sighed, rubbing his face as he desperately tried to think of what the hell he was going to today. If he was going to go outside, then he outta get himself clean enough that he didn’t smell.

Warm water beat against his skin, socking into him and driving the wariness from his body. Adrian still preferred the old family home that had been left behind, but if there was one thing about this place that he vastly preferred, it was the consistent hot water. Their old home sometimes had heating problems - almost never during the winter, but often enough that they needed to heat water manually for a good chunk of time. It sucked, but it was still better than what some people had. Some didn’t even have a roof over their heads. 

Adrian was scrubbing at his hair when he got a call on his holo from his regular fixer, Regina. The young merc had thought about expanding his services to Wakako and the general Westbrook area - ironically located to the east of Night City despite the name - but he would hold out for a little while longer. At least until his car was fixed. Or maybe he’d get lucky and be able to steal another vehicle for himself. That would certainly help.

He picked up the call. “Morning Regina. Been a while. Kinda caught me in the shower, though.”

“Morning yourself, Redhand,” the woman responded with a degree of warmth, though he couldn’t tell whether it was just pleasantries or some measure of care. It was hard to tell when you were talking to people who regularly sent you out on jobs. “Got somethin’ lined up that could help the both of us immensely. You interested?”

“You know I’m eager for work wherever I can find it,” he responded, rinsing the shampoo from his hair as he started cleaning the rest of his body. “Lay it on me.”

“Alright. Since I know you can take people out alive now - and yeah, that fight against the Valentinos sure as hell wasn’t easy to keep nonlethal - I’m gonna be askin’ you a pretty big favor. Got word of a cyberpsycho down in Heywood, somewhere near Coyote Cojo. Doesn’t seem to be actively hostile, but he’s attacking anyone who gets too close to him. Not an immediate threat, but someone’ll call MaxTac sooner or later. By the end of the day at the latest.”

“And you want this guy alive for potential treatment?” Adrian asked. “We even sure he deserves it?”

“We can argue about the morality of the situation all we want, Adrian. Right now, what this method needs are viable patients. Most of the patients I have so far are at least taking to the treatment well, but we can do better. What we need is more data. If we have that, then we might actually be able to make a true cure for cyberpsyhosis.”

“I’m not sure there is such thing as a ‘cure’ for that condition,” Adrian said, rinsing himself off and turning off the water. “Even if you get them to go cold turkey for a while - and even if a rare few can get cyberware installed again, the mental damage is already done.”

“Yeah. I know. But I still think that it’s better than doing nothing.”

“I know,” Adrian said. “That’s why I’m taking the job.”

“… really?” she sounded genuinely surprised.

“Never said I wouldn’t do it,” Adrian said, turning off the water in his shower as he stepped out, wiping himself dry with a nearby towel. “Just trying to be realistic about everything. Plus, you’re my best fixer. Wouldn’t exactly be doing myself any favors by pissing you off.”

“… any particular reason other than that?”

“I’ve seen enough cyberpsycho shootouts on TV in my lifetime. I’m not looking forward to seeing any others. And I know that someone my age shouldn’t be saying that, but c’mon. There’s at least one or two high profile cyberpsycho incidents every couple of months. It’s practically a way we mark the months at this point.”

“That’s grim. But not inaccurate. Anyway, I’ll flick you the detes on this guy - what I’ve been able to find in the last hour or so. If there are any new developments, I’ll send them over ASAP. Also, I know that this might be a longshot, but try reasoning with him. I think we can both agree that negotiation is much preferable to another shootout. We’re not MaxTac.”

“Reasoning with a cyberpsycho? Aren’t they called that for a reason?”

“Not all cyberpsychos are violent. In fact, the ones you see on the news are actually more like a vocal minority. They make the most noise, so they leave the biggest impression. Most victims of cyberpsychosis are actually nonviolent. More likely to harm themselves than anyone else, unless suitably provoked. I don’t even think they show up in the news anymore - not even pirate networks will run stories about ‘em.”

“Huh. Well, I’ll try my best, but if worse comes to worst, I’ll be choosing my life over his.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to do anything less. It’s unfortunate, but I’d rather have you alive to try again than lose you.”

“What, you started growing fond of me?” he quipped.

“Eh, you do good work and you can bring people in alive. That’s a lot more than I can ask of some people.”

“Fair enough. I’ll be down there in a while. Call you when the job’s done.”

The call cut out, and Adrian quickly walked over to the closet. He dressed in his normal clothes, his red hawk jacket pulled onto his back as he stretched himself out. Adrian walked over to his weapon’s workbench and thought over what he would be bringing that day. He knew that Reckoning was definitely coming with him, as was Calamity- the weapons practically never left his side these days. He was less sure of which of his longarms he should bring. On the one hand, Adversity had always served him well, the modified Achilles rifle helping him immensely during that fight against the building of Valentinos. On the other hand, Glory hadn’t seen any action as of yet, and he felt a little uncomfortable just leaving it there to collect dust. 

“Normally, I’d just put both of ‘em into my Hella and call it a day, but that’s not exactly a solution right now. Hmm…” Adrian idly thought aloud, rubbing his fingers against his chin as he thought. Some stubble had started to grow there. He’d have to shave again soon. He’d never liked beards, even if there were some situations where it would prove useful, like cold weather environments.

“I should ask Rebecca what she thinks of beards.”

“You should. Best not to be making any assumptions that get wildly out of control again.”

Adrian jumped in surprise as Maya came up behind him, practically as silent as a literal whisper even in the confines of their house. She tilted her hair in a bit of embarrassment, her dark hair brushed straight, but still largely unstyled. “Hey there, Adrian. You got a job today?”

“Yeah, and not a moment too soon, either,” he noted, calming down a bit with a few quick breaths. “We’ve got rent due in a few days.”

“Fuck - forgot about that. Did our asshole landlord hike it up again?”

“No, he learned his lesson when someone on nine pointed a gun in his face,” Adrian said. “I think he might’ve been from the Tyger Claws or something.”

“We’ve got Claws in our building?” Maya asked with genuine concern. 

“There are Claws in every building in Japantown,” Adrian answered, taking Glory off the wall and checking the pump action. Smooth as butter. “But I don’t think they’re likely to try anything here. Not overtly, anyway. A lot of them try to separate their business and personal lives as much as possible.”

“Let’s hope that confidence proves correct,” Maya said, checking her own Unity just in case. She’d been improving with the weapon aver the last month of practice, and though she didn’t have the same unnatural learning speed that Adrian did with the passive assistance of his Dead-Eye OS, she seemed to be developing a comfort with small arms. Even if she did sometimes have a slight look of disappointment to her whenever she had to use it. Adrian had told her, under no uncertain terms, that she wasn’t allowed to get a Smart weapon until she had developed a basic competency with her pistol, and he was sticking by it. He hoped that he might be able to get her one for her birthday, if she was fast enough.

“So, did anything happen with you and Rebecca?”

Adrian damn near fumbled his shotgun out of his grasp, only managing to catch it after a few moments of frantic motion. He let out a sigh of relief before he turned a baleful glare on his little sister.

“What? It’s a genuine question - you said you and Rebecca went to a ramen place afterwards, and the way you’re talking about her is suggestive of something occurring. So? What happened?”

“I…” Adrian wasn’t sure how to respond to this. He forgot, sometimes, that despite his little sister’s reclusiveness in recent months and her generally cute attitude, she was one of the smartest people he knew. Smarter than him by a wide margin, that was for damn sure. It was part of the reason he’d made the decision to drop out. “That’s private.”

“How private?’ she asked as he made his way to the fridge, opening a NiCola with a depressurizing hiss.

“Private,” he said, emphasizing the word as he drank from the soda.

“Oh my god, she totally kissed you!”

Adrian’s immediate spit-take reaction seemed to justify this assumptions and cracked her up immensely, the sound of uncontrollable laughter echoing through the apartment as she tried, and failed, to keep herself upright, slumping against the countertop in order to keep herself stable. “Holy fuck - that reaction was priceless! God, I wish I could fucking record it or something - it’d be so damn good!”

“Not funny sis!” Adrian exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger straight at her face. “And why the hell do you think she’d be the one making that move?!”

“Because we both know you are way too chickenshit to do anything like that without hyping yourself up for months on end.”

“I… yeah, fair point,” Adrian acquiesced. 

[You know, if you really were going to fall into denial, I would’ve been there to slap you out of it.]

You don’t even have hands, Deck.

[I don’t need hands to mentally slap you. I’m connected to your spinal nerve trunk, remember?]

Oh. Right.

Adrian quickly came back out of that mental conversation as Maya began asking a question. “So, are you guys, like… dating now? Input and output stuff?”

“… still figuring that out, sis,” Adrian said with a sigh. “Hopefully, that’ll happen sooner rather than later. Anyway, I’m gonna go do that job now. See you in a few hours.”

“Love you bro!”

“Love you too, sis.”

Rebecca gave a long, weary sigh as she stared out at the expanse of the ceiling over her bed. She was, as she tended to be in this stuffy apartment she and Pilar shared, naked, only covered by sheets that only messily covered her lower body. Her foot was twitching in irritation. Partly at the fact that she was feeling surprisingly restless despite the time she’d spent barricaded in her apartment. Partly at the fact that Maine currently didn’t have a gig for the crew to take part in. But mostly at the fact that she hadn’t talked to Adrian in three whole days. 

Why the fuck is the prospect of calling the guy so damn nerve wracking?! For fuck’s sake, we already made out for most of an hour! Why the hell am I reacting to this like some stereotypical anime schoolgirl?!

She slammed her arms into her bed with a muffled thump, a breath of frustration a groan of irritation accompanying the motion. Rebecca thought she might have some inkling of what was keeping her from calling him. That her relationship with Adrian was already a lot different from all the other relationships she’d had. Diving in headfirst, usually knowing someone for a week or less before she decided that they were cute enough to date. It had been vapid and shallow, but she’d been dedicated to those relationships regardless. 

“It’s not like I’m going to get anything done just laying here,” she muttered to herself. With a huff, she sat up with a slight effort, hopping off her bed in her full nakedness and heading over to her shower. Pilar wasn’t awake yet, despite the fact that it was about an hour away from actually being noon, which, for once, she was thankful for. 

She set the shower to warm and sank into it, letting the warmth roll over her ivory skin and neon pink tattoos while she scrubbed herself down, getting ready for the day. Curious, she put through a holo call to someone who wasn’t her maybe-kinda-actually input, and instead someone who tended to have other things to do when he wasn’t on a job for the crew.

“Hey there pint-sized,” Falco said over the line, his southern accent ever so slightly grating to her sensibilities. Just slightly. “To what do I owe a call from you this fine mornin’?”

“My boredom,” Rebecca said as she scrubbed at her hair. “I’m getting kinda antsy waiting for the next gig to come through. You got anything like that supply run to the Aldecaldos lined up?”

“Nothin’ to write home about, Becca. Though I am doin’ a bit of courier service for a friend of mine. No pay - I’m doin’ this as a favor, not for money.”

“I don’t need more edds right now, I need to get out of my apartment,” she said, wringing out her long, sea-foam green hair as soap was rinsed from it’s length, loudly splashing to the floor of her shower. 

“… Becca, are you taking a shower right now? I thought I heard running water for a second there.”

“Not the point, Falco,” she said, scrubbing at her legs as she continued. “Are you gonna need me sooner or later?”

“I can pick you up at the NCART station near your apartment in about thirty minutes, so be ready by then.”

“You’re makin’ a lot of assumptions there, birdie,” Rebecca teased the man. “Don’t you know that a lady can take a while to get ready?”

“Rebecca, we both know that the longest it’s ever taken you to get ready is about ten minutes, and usually only because you can’t decide if you want your underwear to be black or grey on a particular day.”

“I-I’ve got other stuff!” she insisted. “Some purple, powder blue and leopard print that I really like. I’d have gotten some pink, too, but I can never find any shade that doesn’t clash with my tattoos.”

“And when was the last time you actually wore anything other than black or grey?”

“… the last time I had an input and I bothered getting dressed up for a date instead of throwing on my hoodie over a plain set and calling it good enough,” she admitted with a sigh. Still, it wasn’t all bad. Once she figured this all out with Adrian, she’d have a reason to wear it again, under some fancier clothes than she was used to. Maybe some more provocative stuff, too.

No, that’s for later, if the relationship ever gets that far. 

“Hm? Last time?” Falco asked, clearly picking up on something in her tone that she hadn’t managed to hide. “Given your tone, that implies there might be a next time. A next time… sometime soon?”

“I… uh…” She had no idea how to respond to something like that, even the implicational stuff. Still, Rebecca tried her best as she turned off the shower, taking one towel to wrap her hair and another to dry and cover up her body. “I-I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m pretty sure you’re trying to put words in my mouth, birdie. Stop it.”

“Rebecca. I’m gonna ask you a question, and I’ll politely request that you answer it honestly.”

“Okay?”

“Did somethin’ happen between you and Adrian? Recently? Perhaps of the emotional or intimate variety?”

.

..

…

“… fuck you.”

Falco just gave a loud guffaw over the holo. “Holy fuckin’ shit, I knew it! I knew there was somethin’ there when you two kept makin’ eyes at each other in my van! Goddamn! The only thing I’m remotely mad about is that I was too late to set you two up myself!”

“I just kissed him, you grease monkey asshole. You’re acting like we full-on slept together.”

“My point stands! Anyway, get ready and wait for me by the NCART station - I want to hear everythin’!”

“You aren’t a teenage girl, Falco.”

“No, but gossip is still entertaining as hell. This is better than that Reality TV by a country mile!”

“Not exactly setting a high bar there, birdie.”

“Fair enough. See you in a while.”

The call cut out, and Rebecca sighed as she continued on with her day, blow-drying her long hair as she contemplated how she was going to talk to the man. Yes, he had been a little pushy, regarding this kind of information, but she couldn’t admit to acting any better when stuff like this happened to other people. 

Besides, it might be nice to actually have someone else to talk to about this. Dorio’s advice was nice, but came with a few too many questions for her liking, and as for Lucy and Kiwi… well, the former was perpetually single to the point of celibacy after a series of one-night-stands towards the start of her tenure in Night City, and Kiwi wanted little more than casual sex when she got horny and nothing else. 

As Rebecca stood in front of her dresser, opening it to reveal it’s contents, she debated to herself on what color she would wear that day.

“Black or grey…?”

Adrian checked the ammunition for Glory once more, pumping it once to make sure that everything was in order. He breathed deep, slow breaths. He hadn’t used a shotgun very often, but M had taught him the basics, as he had for all of the weapons he might come across. It had still remained one of his least used weapons, but he figured that if there was ever a time to test it out, it might as well be against a cyberpsycho.

One thing that people rarely discussed about the powerful weapon was the fact that it actually had far more range than was typically depicted in media, depending on the gauge. M generally liked to use them as close quarters weapons, but also said that they could easily be used for mid-range combat, though they gradually got les accurate depending on the gauge and spread of your shells. Long range shotguns generally required specialized shells with incredibly tight spread.

“But considering the fact that I’m about to head into an alleyway, I think it’s a good thing I only brought twelve and twenty gauge.”

He slung Glory of his shoulder in a smooth, practiced motion, another thing that M had made him practice for hours on end until he could do it without thinking. He pulled Reckoning from it’s holster, pulling back the slide so that he could see the chamber, a bullet prepped to fire. He let it pull back forward with a click and promptly put it back in it’s holster.

He reached to his back, making sure that he really was alone at this entrance to the alley, and pulled Calamity. He was as quiet with the weapon as he could be, considering the fact that it wasn’t made to go unnoticed. It also didn’t help that he still needed to find a solution to his looming problem of ammunition. It wasn’t like he could just waltz into a gun store and just expect to see it somewhere on the shelf. One day, he’d be able to carry this thing in public, and it’d be better for him, and everyone else, if he prepared for that day.

Of course, I could always learn how to make the ammo myself, but Malour’s notes didn’t exactly detail how that stuff got made.

Nor should it. They were blueprints and speculations on a firearms, and while it did detail some alternative ammo types that the gun might be able to use, it didn’t say anything about how to make any of them, even if that would’ve been very handy information for Adrian to know, especially at the moment. 

He breathed, holstering Calamity at his back once again and tapping at the personal link in his left hand with his middle and ring fingers, a nervous excitement rolling through him as he breathed, trying to slow the somewhat rapid pace of his own heartbeat. It worked, eventually.

[You will be fine. As you’ve already pointed out, if worse comes to worst, we can just kill him. To be honest, considering what we know of the more violent victims of cyberpsychosis, that might be some form of mercy, brutal though it is.]

Sure, but I don’t want to kill someone suffering from a potentially treatable mental disorder. We might as well at least give them the chance to get better.

[I know. I am simply reminding you of the reality that your options are not so narrow as you are allowing yourself to believe in this moment. A living test subject might do more good in the long run, but there will be no point in it if you end up dying in the process.]

I… okay. Thanks, Deck.

[Hey, someone needs to keep your head on straight. Though, there is another problem that we need to discuss. It’s not an immediate one, but it is imminent.]

And that would be? Adrian asked as he began to creep into the alleyway, Glory in his grip as he searched the place. It was only a single street over from Coyote Cojo, a semi-popular bar in Heywood that was frequented mostly by the Valentinos. Adrian had only ever come to Heywood in passing before his mom had died, when she had needed to visit an old friend and couldn’t afford a sitter for him and Maya. That friend had died about a year later, hailing a cab and getting shot for their trouble. It was a surispingly common way to die in Night City. 

[My existence. You will need to tell others about it soon. We are keeping a relatively decent lid on this right now, but there is going to come a time where people will find out eventually, whether by circumstance or some other means. Better that an explanation comes from you than from someone who does not know of, or may intentionally obfuscate, the proper context that brought me to my awareness.]

Adrian’s thoughts were silent as he stood stock still. The alleyway was littered with trash and detritus that most of them were, with a pair of dumpsters lined along each of the brick walls that made up the alley. Heywood was known for that style of architecture, which also made these kinds of walls perfect for all kinds of graffiti. Much of that was in the Valentino style, and was quite good.

[Adrian, stop distracting yourself. I know that we are about to fight a cyberpsycho, but there is never going to be a good time to discuss this, even if a time like this is also not ideal.]

I know. I just… I’m not sure that’s the best idea, Deck.

[Are you embarrassed of me?]

No! God no; you’ve saved my life way too many times for me to be embarrassed of you. It’s just that anyone in their right minds would laugh in my face if I said that to them. And I would too if I wasn’t living through this right now! Do you have any idea what explaining you would be like? It’d be like telling people magic exists, knowing yourself that it does in fact exist, but the best explanation that you have for someone is ‘trust me, bro.’

[So, you are saying that the largest problem is not the concept of my existence itself, but your relative lack of proof?]

Uh… yeah, kinda. There’s also the fact that AIs that aren’t on a corporate leash are kinda seen as Boogeymen. Scary monsters that go bump in the night, that kind of thing. People would be scared of you.

[Why? I have not done anything to them - they should have no reason to feel fear.]

Fear ain’t always rational, Deck. Sometimes, you just can’t control how you respond to a situation. Even digitized and chromed out the ass, we’re still animals. I think that’s part of a reason why cyberpsychosis is even a thing. 

The AI fragment went silent as Adrian continued on through the alley, watching every nook and crany for even a hint of movement. Forward progress was made pretty gradually, with Adrian taking things step by step. Eventually, he heard something to his left, ahead where this alleyway crossed with two others, making a strange kind of intersection in the shape of a six-pointed star. 

Pushing towards the wall, Adrian peeked around, craning his neck to search for the source of the noise. Just beyond the corner, there was a man, hunched in a strange, sitting squat with his elbows on his knees and a weapon in his hands. An axe, large and heavy, with a wide head and a sharp edge, gleaming in the spotted sunlight that filtered into the alley. He dressed typically for a Heywood kid, in a trendy tanktop and basketball shorts, with an undercut and a stylish goatee. He had a lot of visible cyberware, though, Gorilla Arms and leg implants that Adrian wasn’t entirely sure of. It was probable that this guy had subdermal armor, given the lines throughout his body, and he likely had some internals replaced as well. There were corpses there too, many of which were bisected roughly down the middle, as though split roughly in half. Given the blood still dripping from his axe, Adrian could guess at their fate. Though the fact that all of the corpses were male suggested some kind of oddity. Violent cyberpsychos didn’t tend to be choosy with who they killed, and there were more than a few tough as nails women in Heywood. It was strange.

Fuck, this guy looks tough. And I really don’t wanna get on the business end of that axe.

[Unfortunately, that alleyway is a dead end. We could try getting onto the fire escape, but I suspect that will draw his attention anyway given his position.]

Damn. No way to go but forward?

[It would seem so. Aim for his knees. They will likely be the most vulnerable part of his body.]

Got it, Adrian though as he stood from his crouch, readjusting his grip on Glory. Let me know if you see any other weak points that are non-lethal.

[Understood.]

With a firm stride to his step, Adrian walked out from behind the corner, coming into the cyberpsycho’s line of sight. The crazed man watched him with blank, optical eyes that held no compassion or recognition of humanity within them. He stood from his squat, towering over even Adrian’s nearly six foot height as the fullness of his muscled body came into view. 

“… fuck, you’re big,” Adrian said. “You in there? Wanna talk?”

The man said nothing, instead stretching his neck from side to side as cartilage audibly gave a rolling pop. He rolled his shoulders twice, adjusting his grip on the axe as he took a stance, preparing to charge.

“Guess that’s a no,” Adrian said with a sigh, hefting his shotgun in response to the man’s ready stance. “I suppose we’re doing this the hard way, then.”

As though his words were a starting pistol, the man sprinted forward at a blistering place, axe already hoisted above his shoulder to cleave Adrian in two. While the man was fast, the young merc had seen that move coming from a mile away, sidestepping the blow even as the man’s axe clattered against the stone of the walkway with a steely echo. Adrian took aim at one of the man’s knees, firing at it once with Glory.

Unfortunately, the shot only clipped the cyberpsycho’s calve, causing him to stumble a bit. He went back on the attack, swinging out with a backhanded attack from his left arm that audibly whistled by his torso. He followed that up with a wild chop with the axe, whistling by Adrian’s head with such speed that the young merc could practically feel the sharpness of the axe across his nose. 

He stepped further back, pumping the next shell of his shotgun as the cyberpsycho tried to aim for the guy’s center mass, hoping that he’d be able to take it. Unfortunately, that suspicion turned out to be right, Adrian firing Glory at almost point-blank range, visibly tearing into the cyberpsycho and exposing the fullness of his subdermal armor, which definitely covered most of his body.

“Sonofa-”

Before Adrian could get through cursing, he was forced to dodge out of the way of another swing from the man’s axe, and was not as nimble as he had been with the last one. It scored along his front, the very tip of the thing managing to score a deep line along his front, tearing open his shirt and spurting blood along the length of the blade.

“Fuck!” Adrian exclaimed, Cold Blood coming over him a second later in response. Taking a deliberate breath in as he began to maneuver around the cyberpsycho, he pumped the next shell and fired, this time aiming for the man’s feet once again. It missed, pellets of buckshot digging into the ground as he rocketed forward again, apparently unable to do anything but attack. 

Adrian dodged again as he wracked the next shell, this time trying to bait the man as he came charging in. He swiftly dodged the next swing of the man’s axe, and the one that came after it, firing his next shell at the man’s feet. Again, he managed to dodge even this close to the blast, only losing a chunk of his calf for his trouble, and putting Adrian even further on the back foot. 

Four shells left, Adrian thought as he pumped his shotgun once again, determined to bring this one in alive. The dance continued, three more shells never quite hitting their mark as his shaves against the man’s axe got closer and closer. Eventually, he was brought to the last one in the gun, which was not a good situation to be in. The young merc was quite literally against a wall, with little more than the man’s nonexistent mercy to shied him from the next blow.

Need to get somewhere safe so that I can reload, Adrian thought, eyes quickly darting to a garbage dumpster and a pulled up fire escape. It was a bit of a risk considering the fact that he would be sitting in a single spot that the guy could see completely, but it was a lot better than standing around and waiting to get split in half.

The cyberpsycho charged at him again, and the young merc didn’t allow himself to think or doubt his next course of action. He simply acted. As the axe whistled through the air, parting it like so much silk, Adrian dove forward into a roll as he heard the man’s axe once more bounce against the solid wall of the alleyway. Adrian twisted as he got up from his roll, this time taking a damn near blind shot at the man’s knee. not bothering to stop and see if it landed, Adrian scrambled atop the dumpster and leapt for the fire escape, managing to catch one of the many grated bars in his hand as he pulled himself up. He really owed M for making sure regular workout stuff was still a part of his routine. Even pullups. Well, especially pullups, considering the fact that one of them had just saved his life. 

Adrian breathed as he slumped against the grated handrail of the fire escape, methodically loading shells as Cold Blood began to fade from his veins, the chill of it no longer enough to keep the pain from his mind. Still, his own will was enough to put it out of mind, for the moment. By the time he loaded his fifth shell, the cyberpsycho would likely have had enough time to recover to jump up here and start attacking again. Not ideal, but at least he had time to reload at all. Maybe he should get some clips for Glory? They weren’t standard, but it wasn’t impossible to find some. Plus, it would solve a lot of his problems right now.

… huh. That’s weird. He should’ve jumped up here by now.

Even stranger was the fact that Adrian had managed to completely reload all of his shells, not wracking the next one until he knew exactly what the hell was going on. He glanced down at the guy, and saw the result of a blind shot made on instinct. It was almost enough to make Adrian laugh. Most of the man’s leg had been gutted, cyberware and all, and it was unlikely that he would have enough stability to jump all the way back up here without cyberware in both legs. From the looks of things, he had those Reinforced Tendons that Adrian himself had been thinking about getting, eventually. Not at the moment, but somewhere down the road. 

“Yeah, that’ll do it,” the young merc muttered to himself as he wracked the next shell, the noise of the motion drawing the attention of the cyberpsyho as he stared at Adrian with a blank, fathomless hatred that had no start and no end. 

He could fire at the cyberpsycho from this angle, but given the fact that the largest target he’d be looking at was the man’s head, it was unlikely he would survive something like that. So, Adrian decided to do what any sensible Edgerunner would do in this kind of situation. Be unexpected. 

He leapt from the fire escape while aiming down the sights of his shotgun, the cyberpsycho charging straight for him with his axe raised. Instead of aiming for the man’s legs this time, Adrian commanded Deck to forcibly activate Cold Blood, and Dead-Eye along with it. Time slowed to a crawl as Adrian fell through the air, and Deck’s combat advice scrawled across his vision. 

This will need to be timed damn near perfectly. Hold your shot for another second, and wait for him to come into range. Once he does, you will need to take aim at his left shoulder. If we time this right, it should come right off even with subdermal armor. The force of the shot will send you backwards, so you will need to brace yourself for the impact, though the motion will likely offset some of the fall. After that, I do believe that it is simply a matter of getting at his other leg. He won’t be in one piece, but he will be alive, and that’s the most important part of all this.

Adrian breathed, lining up his shot as time crawled by. The moment he saw his chance, he took the shot, the force of the blast sending him backwards towards the far end of the alleyway as the man’s left arm was torn wholly from his socket. Adrian managed to right himself in midair, his boots skidding against the alleyway concrete as he clenched every muscle he could think of to force himself to stop, from the ones that ran along his shins and calf to even some in the lower and middle sections of his back. Still, it worked, and Adrian was now facing off against a cyberpsycho that was already heavily damaged, missing an arm, and now had a visible limp. 

Okay. I think-

Then, in an instant, the man was in front of him, axe already descending in a blow that was aimed right for his clavicle. On reflex, Deck had forcibly activated Cold Blood and Dead-Eye again in response to what was clearly some kind of speedware implant. Whether it was a Sandevistan or a Krenzikov was irrelevant at this point, because Adrian was currently staring down the barrel of a not so metaphorical gun, and did not like his odds of coming out the other side unscathed.

I am not going to lose another goddamn arm!

Gritting his teeth, Adrian thought up a silent apology to Regina for what he was about to do, angling his shotgun towards the cyberpsycho’s face. She’d be damn upset about losing a potential patient, but she would understand. Or, he hoped that she would. At the very least, he’d be alive, and that was all he really cared about in that moment.

That was when something totally unexpected happened. A large man came barreling in through one of the alleys, checking the cyberpsycho with his shoulder and slamming him into the wall. The man dropped his axe on reflex, and the large stranger brought his fist around in a devastating haymaker, sending the guy sprawling t the ground in a heap of what limbs he had remaining.

“Fucking shit, Marcos,” the large man cursed in Spanish, hands on his knees as he recovered from what was apparently a rather mad dash before swapping to English. “Told you not to get this deep in, gonk.”

With an audible sigh, the large man pulled a sawed off shotgun from a holster at his hip, aiming it straight at the cyberpsycho’s head. Adrian immediately recognized the fact that this was not a good situation, and promptly staggered over to the man as Dead-Eye and Cold Blood faded away altogether, roughly putting a hand over the man’s gun.

“No… no need for that,” he said, panting himself from the insane fight that he’d just been through. “Need him… alive.”

“Alive?” the man asked, turning to Adrian fully. “Why do you need a damn cyberpsycho… wait, you look familiar. Were you at Vik’s a few months back?”

“Uh… yeah, guy’s my regular ripper,” Adrian answered. Then he took in the man’s frame, jacket, and the machete over one shoulder. And a name came to mind. “Jackie?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” Jackie confirmed with a smile, holstering his sawed off and holding out his hand. “And you’re… Adrian, right?”

“Yeah,” the young merc answered, taking the proffered hand and giving it a firm shake. “Haven’t seen you around.”

“Eh, not too surprising. Vik sees a decent supply of patients, so it’s not surprising that we didn’t see each other. Still, small city. What’re you doing in Heywood, anyway?”

“Came here for him, actually,” Adrian said, wincing as the cuts across his torso flared with pain. “My fixer heard that a cyberpsycho was here and wanted to get to them before MaxTac swarmed the place. Get them into this experimental treatment that she’s helping develop.”

“So… a test subject?” Jackie asked, brow raised and arms crossed. 

“‘Patient’ is the more polite term,” Adrian said, not denying Jackie’s statement about test subjects. “Besides, even some experimental treatment that might lead to an actual solution is better than a bullet to the skull. At least in my book.”

“Can’t argue with you there, choomba,” Jackie said, stretching his hands and letting his fingers pop. “So… what do we do with Marcos?”

“Well… for now, I’ll give my fixer a call, and she’ll send someone around to pick Marcos up. Then, uh… guess I go to a ripper to get these cuts stitched up.”

“Hey, you don’t need to go all the way to a ripper to get stitches,” Jackie said. “Coyote Cojo’s got a bit of a resident medic on staff. Not exactly for these kinds of situations, but she should be able to get those done up in no time at all.”

“There’s a medic on staff at Coyote Cojo?”

“Unofficially, of course. Still, you’d be surprised just how often Valentinos go there to get patched up. Mama Welles has gotten pretty good at it.”

“Speaking from experience, Mr. Welles?” Adrian asked with a smirk.

“Ha ha,” Jackie replied with a dismissive wave. “Call your fixer already. Those wounds aren’t going to stitch themselves.”

“Huh. I never thought I’d see the day you ran booze,” Rebecca said as Falco and the other guy with him helped to pile the last crate of booze into the Chevillon. 

“I actually run booze a lot, little miss,” Falco replied, stacking the last crate snugly atop the last pile. “When I get the chance, anyway. Other than jobs where the crew needs a wheelman, it’s actually one of the main ways I make my edds. And I don’t see you helpin’ me out.”

“Bite me, birdie,” Rebecca said, flipping him the bird. “Those things are like, almost fifty pounds! That’s almost half my damn body weight! You think I’m lifting anything that heavy with arms like these?”

She waved her arms about in her hoodie for emphasis, to which Falco simply shrugged in silent admittance. Rebecca didn’t often like to admit to physical weakness unless it was to make a point. She’d tried lifting crates of a similar weight before to hilarious results. At least to Pilar. And Dorio. And Kiwi. She thought she’d even seen Lucy crack a bit of a smile at her blunder.

“Besides, I’m more here as security than as someone who’s supposed to actually lift shit,” Rebecca said, pulling back the slide on her semi-auto Crusher shotgun, modified to be used properly by someone of her stature. She couldn’t one hand the thing like Maine could with his own Crusher, treating the thing more like a pistol than a shotgun, but she could handle the kick of it without falling over. She’d taken Adrian’s advice regarding her naming conventions, and decided to name the thing Glitter.

“Fair enough. I still don’t get why you call that thing ‘Glitter.’ Sounds like something a kid would name a gun,” Falco commented as they got in the van.

“It’s meant to be a bit misleading,” Rebecca said. “This thing does technically spray glitter, y’know. Of the lead variety. So it’s not too much of a stretch to name a shotgun after the concept.”

“Still a bit out there to me,” Falco said with a sigh, turning on the engine and putting the station on one of Night City’s many rock stations, turning the volume down so that they could talk while he drove. “Now… we start with some proper explanations, yeah? How’d it all happen?”

“It… some of it’s private. Like, really private. Like ‘swear a fucking mafia blood oath’ private. So don’t expect me to tell you everything, or give you full context. That’s for Adrian to decide, if or when he wants to tell anyone else.”

The mustachioed ex-Nomad raised a brow at that, but Rebecca remained firm in her statement. She wouldn’t betray her friend’s trust like that. Falco nodded, seeming to understand on some level that this wasn’t something that she was going to budge on. She sighed, and went on to explain her own recollection of the night.

“We had to do some stuff that I’m not going to talk about, and we had a pretty long talk regarding that stuff over some ramen. Things got emotional, and… he was the one who reassured me. Despite everything that had happened that night, his first thought was to make sure that I was okay. I’ve never really had anyone do that so directly before, or so… tenderly. I know that you and the crew care about me, and I love you guys, but this was… different. And, well, I kinda went along with my instincts and I… kissed him. Then he started kissing me back and it’s been three days and I’m kinda terrified to call him because I’m scared that he thinks he may have made a mistake even though we made out for almost an hour.”

.

..

…

“… huh. I think Kiwi owes me money.”

Rebecca punched Falco lightly in the arm, to which the man laughed while lightly rubbing at his arm. “Hey, I’m the one who bet on you not sleeping with the guy before you started a relationship. If anything, you should be thanking me.”

“You still bet on my dating life, birdie,” Rebecca responded with a huff. “Kind of an asshole thing to do-”

“The pot was four thousand eddies.”

“Four fucking thousand?! Nevermind - I want in on that, choom!”

The sudden change in tone was enough to elicit a chuckle from Falco as he took a left at the light. “I’ll be sure to split it with you for your trouble, little miss.”

“Thank you - you’re very considerate.”

“Still, back to the topic at hand,” Falco glanced at the short ex-Mox while he continued to drive. “Why are you so anxious about him? It’s not like this’d be your first relationship. It’s kinda out of character for you.”

“I know,” she admitted with a sigh. “But we started out as friends, and I really like him as a person, not just as a pretty face. Don’t get me wrong - I still think he’s fucking hot as hell, but it’s not just that. I think I was able to get over my old relationships so fast because most of them were just... skin deep, in the end. I don’t want this to end up like another one of those. And I have unfortunately little experience in what most people would call ‘traditional relationships.’ I mean, we used the labels ‘input and output’ or just ‘outputs,’ but it never really… felt like that. Or at least not how I imagined it would when I was blissfully ignorant to how these kinds of dynamics actually go.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, most people in Night City are really only looking for someone to fuck on a semi-regular basis. You don’t see a whole lot of love stories come out of this place, y’know? I didn’t know that during my first relationship, but I got hit in the face with that reality pretty hard when that asshole cheated on me. He didn’t even seem guilty, either. I think that hurt a lot more than the cheating, to be honest. And also the fact that he fucked my first girlfriend behind my back.”

Falco responded with a hissing intake of breath through clenched teeth. “Fuck, that sucks.”

“Eh, sucks more for him, really. I blew his dick off with his own shotgun. Tweaked my shoulder something fierce, but it was fucking worth it!”

Falco nodded, as though his mental image of the situation had been put right. “That definitely sounds like you. Still, what I’m gettin’ from this is that the relationship you have with Adrian isn’t primarily predicated around sex and revolves more around this emotional connection you two have, and that’s somewhat new territory for you?”

“I mean… yeah,” she said. “Got it in one. Sure, I’m no stranger to dates, but those were kinda just a form of foreplay before the sex started, not actual stuff we would do because we enjoyed each other’s company. I didn’t mind all the time, but it kinda bothered me after a while. And I also… I don’t want this to end up like that, but I don’t really know how I’m supposed to avoid that.”

“Hmm… don’t you have any friends you can talk to?” Falco asked. 

“Not about this,” Rebecca said with a sigh. “I mean, the only one that really comes to mind is Rita, and I don’t think she’s really all that interested in anything other than a quick fuck. She’s never been one for committed relationships.”

Falco nodded, acknowledging her point. “Not totally surprisin.’ So, there anything you can do that comes to mind?”

“… well, I guess I could watch some TV, see how they do things.”

“… really?”

“Don’t you judge me! I’m kinda desperate here!”

Falco just gave an overdramatic sigh. “Sure, but I don’t think you should be lookin’ to TV to have all the solutions to your current dilemma. Maybe just… talk with ‘im? I know that seems scary now, especially since this is so new to you, but your best tool in this situation is likely gonna be your willingness to have open communication.”

“… how do you know this?”

“I mean, c’mon, just look at this face,” Falco said, gesturing to his sharply featured face. “Don’t you think someone oughta have kissed it sometime in the past?”

“Or sat on it to shut you up…” Rebecca muttered unhappily under her breath.

“That too.”

She punched him lightly in the arm as the continued towards their destination. A few moments passed before she realized that they were in Heywood, the mix of brutalism and brick building materials giving it away. 

“Where are we going, anyway? You never told me.”

“Ah, must’ve slipped my mind,” Falco said, lightly smacking his forehead with his hand of flesh. “Sorry about that. We’re makin’ a delivery for the Coyote Cojo. They’re gettin’ a little low on booze, and the bartender’s a decent friend o’ mine. Hence the favor.”

“Coyote Cojo? Ain’t that a regular Valentino haunt?” Rebecca asked with a bit of concern. “I don’t wanna cause any trouble there. Most Valentinos are generally respectful, but they’re also pretty territorial. And even if I’m an ex-Mox, I’ve still got their ink all over my body.”

“Sure, there are a lot of Valentinos in their customer base, but it’s still a bar,” Falco responded with a shrug, taking the next turn carefully as they continued. “They ain’t gonna stop you from goin’ in just because you used to be in another gang. Besides, everyone knows that the Mox are fairly rooted in the area around Lizzie’s. They ain’t interested in more territory - they’re more concerned with keepin’ what they already got. It’d be uncharacteristic of ‘em to try and make a power grab, especially on a gang as large as the Valentinos.”

Rebecca nodded in agreement with Falco’s statement, her own experience in the gang more than backing up his assessment. Susie Q still had her nickname of Queen Bitch for a reason, and she was utterly disinterested in anything and anyone that didn’t have something to do with the Mox, but if there was one thing that the woman was actually good at, it was protecting her own. She played defensively, but not in such a way that she was seen as weak. She was more like a gun in it’s holster or a sword in it’s sheath to Rebecca’s bared, double-headed axe approach. It was part of why they’d never really gotten along even before she’d left the Mox. Truth be told, while that fight between the two of them had seemed like a natural consequence of her leaving, something between the two of them had been building up to it a long time ago. It would’ve exploded, sooner or later. Her potential departure had just been a convenient breaking point.

“Here we are,” Falco said, pulling into an alleyway that led into the bar itself. “I’d ask you to help me carry the crates inside, but… y’know. Noodle arms.”

Rebecca flipped him off as he got out of the car, laughing his ass off while she did the same on the passenger side, making sure that Glitter was lock, loaded, and ready to kill someone. She felt like she might need the release sometime soon.

That was when she noticed the trail of fresh blood that had dripped onto the pavement of the alleyway. It was a little old, but only by minutes, so whoever was blooding had come through here recently. It looked like it had slowed down by a lot, but other than that, she couldn’t really tell much. She was no medtech or ripperdoc. She did see that the blood trail went inside the bar, though, as it went all the way to the back door. The semi-bloody handprint on the wall did not inspire confidence.

“Hey, look,” she said, pointing out the blood trail. “What do you think? Valentino got caught up in some turf bullshit with 6th Street again?”

“Maybe, but it’s a little far to come all the way over here. I’m pretty sure there’s a ripperdoc on the Southeast edge of Heywood who’d be able to take care of ‘em just fine.”

“So, you think this was a bit closer, then?”

“Probably. Either way, if they’re inside, they’re probably gettin’ patched up. Ms. Welles has gotten pretty good at that over the years, or so I've heard.”

Rebecca shrugged. “Well, let me know if it’s anything interesting. Kinda dying of boredom over here.”

“Ah! Fuck!” Adrian hissed as Jackie’s mom, one Guadalupe Alejandra Welles, started on another stitch. She’d already cleaned and stitched the other cut along his side, and wasted no time in sealing the next one. Truth be told, the disinfectant had hurt worse, but the acuteness of this kind of pain just seemed worse in the moment.

“Stop moving around so much, nino,” the middle-aged woman said as she continued her work. A head of grey hair had been pulled back into a ponytail as she worked, and disposable gloves were covering her hands to prevent potential blood-borne diseases from spreading, though Adrian was pretty sure he didn’t have any. “You’re lucky. Half an inch deeper, and you’d be looking at broken ribs and intestinal damage. As it is, if this is the extent of the care you’re going for, I wouldn’t do anything too acrobatic for a while. Perhaps a few weeks.”

“That is not ideal, given my line of work,” Adrian said, clenching back another wince of pain as she started on the next stitch. 

“I know. I’d really suggest going to a ripperdoc for a more thorough exam. The next few days would be best. I can do a decent patch job for you, and it’ll last a while, but I never managed to finish medical school.”

“Too expensive?” Adrian asked, knowing that was usually the answer to those kinds of situations.

“That, and I happened to get pregnant with his oldest brother,” Ms. Welles said, gesturing over her shoulder to Jackie.

“Mama!” Jackie exclaimed in seeming embarrassment.

“What? It’s not like it’s a lie, Jacquito,” Ms. Welles said with a smile on her face, suggesting that this was not the first time that she’d done such a thing. “Things happen. It’s not like you and your brothers just showed up on my doorstep one day.”

She was silent as she put in the last few stitches, wiping Adrian’s chest of blood as she got gauze and pads to start properly dressing the closed wounds. “I’ve done what I can. You’ll likely be feeling sore in a while if you aren’t already, so get to a ripper as soon as you can. It’s not an immediate problem, but you should still take care of it soon.”

Adrian nodded to her. “Thanks for this.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she said, waving it off as she tossed him a spare MaxDoc, which he quickly caught and used, breathing in the medicine as she continued. “I’ve seen a lot worse than that. Actually had one guy literally spilling out his intestines on the floor. That was nasty.”

“Poor Hermon,” Jackie muttered in remembrance. “Still doesn’t look at knives the same to this day.”

“Ay,” Ms Welles said with a sympathetic nod of her head. “Well, I’ll leave you boys to it. I wouldn’t go drinking this early in the day, but it might be good to do something to distract yourself from the pain for a bit.”

Adrian stood slowly from his position on one of the bar’s chairs, the high table he’d sat near cleared of Ms. Welles’ medical supplies as he hobbled over to the bar. A larger man stood there, idly rubbing at the pristine countertop with a rag, one of his arms replaced with a gold-plated prosthetic from the elbow down. 

“Two shots of tequila, Pepe,” Jackie said as he joined Adrian at the bar. “For the pain… and to take a bit of the edge off the day.”

“Sure thing, Jacquito,” the bartender, Pepe, replied, grabbing a bottle from under the counter along with a pair of shot glasses. He started pouring as he continued. “You putting this on your tab as well?”

“Sure - ain’t wracked up to much of one this month. Couple of shots ‘ll be practically nothing.”

“Well, this is all I’m giving you for now. Waiting on a delivery that’s coming in a while, so just wait a minute before you ask for any more, alright?”

When the shots were poured out and served, Jackie took his in hand and gestured for Adrian to do the same. “A toast. To new friendships!”

“You got that right,” Adrian said, raising his own shot glass with a smile. “Cheers!”

“Salud!” Jackie responded in Spanish, the two mercs downing their drinks at the same time. The liquid was high in alcohol content, just like the whiskey that he was used to, but in contrast to the smokey amber liquid that he was used to, the clearer stuff was sweeter, but gave no less of a burn.

“Fuck, that’s strong,” Adrian said, reflexively shaking his head in reaction to the burn that the liquid left behind in his throat. 

“It’s good stuff,” Jackie said. 

“… when we were in that alley, you called the cyberpsycho Marcos,” Adrian noted. Jackie raised a brow at that, but the young merc continued. “You know him?”

“A bit,” Jackie said with a heavy sigh. “Knew him when I was still in the Valentinos. He wasn’t a member at the time, but he joined up about a year after I left. Hell, he was barely a teenager when I met him- fourteen going on fifteen. Didn’t see him for a long while, after I left. Then about a year ago, I hear that he’s got this girl with him. Real pretty woman with a good heart, and he loved her like she was the sun itself. Think he was going to marry her, too.”

“… what happened?” Adrian asked. He had learned enough about Night City to know how most of these stories tended to end.

“Scavs - what else?” Jackie said, disgust audible in his tone. “Took her off the street when she was heading home alone one night. Marcos was inconsolable - searched up and down in every Scav haunt he could find, carving his way through every single one of them to get to her. And he did find her. Eventually. In pieces.”

That mental image was.. well, Adrian wasn’t sure which urge in generated was stronger - his anger or his nausea. Jackie had a similar mix of emotions on his own face, but he continued nonetheless. “We had a funeral for her, after she was cremated. Here in the Coyote, in fact. But Marcos still wanted to find the Scavs that had done this to her. I knew that he could go cyberpsycho, given his fragile state, but nothing I said worked. And now, here we are a year later. And I suddenly find myself wishing that I’d pushed the point just a little harder.”

Adrian looked to the man, saw the guilt in his eyes as Pepe wandered over to the backdoor - something about a delivery that had just arrived. He sighed, putting a hand on the man’s shoulder in a show of support. “You did what you could at the time, and that’s all anyone can ask for. I’m not sure if pushing the point would’ve made things better or worse, and there’s no point in thinking about the what ifs’ and ‘maybes’ when all they’ll ever be is ‘what ifs’ and ‘maybes.’ What’s done is done, and we’ve gotta move forward. Learn what we can from what happened so that we’re better prepared if it ever happens again. Besides, he’s still alive, so he’s got a chance. As long as there’s life, there’s hope. Even if it’s faint.”

Jackie gave Adrian a weary but grateful smile. “Thanks. I, uh… I think I’ll sit with this a while, but thanks for saying that. Think I needed to hear it. I mean, if it didn’t come from you, it’d definitely have come from Mama, so thanks for saving me from the lecture.”

“Anytime,” Adrian said with a chuckle. Still, the thought of Marcos, and that girl he’d fallen for, brought to mind his own relationship situation. It was a very different from what those two had had, and was really only in the beginning stages of anything at all, but it was enough to make him think. He wanted this… whatever it was - he wanted to make it work. They still hadn’t discussed any names for it, or any labels at all. Just made out and then… silence for three days.

“Uh…” he started, hesitant and nervous. “Not really sure how to talk about this, but I could use some perspective.”

“Sure, if I can help you with it,” Jackie replied with a smile. “What’s eating at you, hermano?”

“I, uh… well, a few nights ago me and this girl I’m into… well, some stuff happened, and she ended up kissing me and that kept going for almost an hour and it’s been three days and I have no goddamn idea how to handle the situation.”

.

..

…

“… huh. That was a lot to say in a single breath.”

Adrian sighed as he slumped against the countertop, face down with his head in his hands. “Yeah, it’s kind of a lot. And that’s the barest of barebones version of that story. Still, I’m kinda terrified because I have literally no experience in this department! The closest thing I have as a reference to it is some skin-deep crushes I had in high school, and that’s not exactly a good reference point for something like this. So… do you have any advice?”

Jackie gave him a thoughtful look, his eyes flicking to the roof as he mulled over his answer. Adrian’s foot bounced with silent nervousness, looking for some outlet to the energy in his system. He wasn’t looking for a real answer - just a direction to head in. Some guidepost to help orient himself, so that he wouldn’t feel so lost. If either of his parents were still around, he could’ve asked them for advice, embarrassing though that would be. But they weren’t, and he would have to make do with what he could learn from other people.

“Well, you know for sure that she hasn’t said yes or no,” Jackie said. “And it’s only been three days. It’s entirely possible that she’s as nervous as you are.”

“I kinda doubt that,” Adrian commented, reminded of Rebecca’s personality. “She’s not really the type to get nervous about something like this. Or she seems that way, at least.”

“Confident woman?”

“Very confident woman.”

Jackie nodded, as though in understanding. “Well, I’ve only really been in a single committed relationship before, but I’ll tell you what I think will help. So, this is going to sound a little crazy given how nervous you seem about this girl, but I need you to really listen to me on this, alright?”

Adrian nodded, a little skepticism in his gaze.

“Talk to her. You’re not going to get anywhere with this if you aren’t willing to do that much. Wish I had a way to put this more gently, but you’re gonna have to suck up your nervousness. Once you actually start talking, you’re gonna realize that it’s not nearly as dangerous your mind is making it out to be.”

Adrian had no response to Jackie’s words, because, on some level, they made sense to him. Logically, lines of communication should be a key to a healthy, long lasting relationship. That didn’t make establishing them any less nerve wracking.

“Still feels terrifying just thinking about it,” Adrian admitted. “I mean, I understand why I’d do that on a logical level, but it’s still scary.”

“Course it’s scary,” Jackie said. “Just less than what you’re making it out to be. Besides, she initiated it, right? Seems like she’s interested to me.”

“But what if-”

“Hey, don’t you start with that,” Jackie said, pointing at Adrian. “What did you tell me just a few minutes ago?”

“… that ‘what ifs’ and ‘maybes’ are just that: ‘what ifs’ and maybes,’” the young merc conceded with a sigh. He rubbed at the edge of his burn scar, feeling an itch that wasn’t really there anymore. It was more psychosomatic than anything else. It only tended to act up when he was feeling stressed.

“Good. At least you realized it, even if it took you a hot minute,” Jackie said with a smile. Adrian smiled back, thankful for the larger man’s advice.

“Hey, Jackie!” Pepe called from the backdoor. “Mind helping me with these?”

“Do I get first pick from one of the crates?” he called back, standing up to help the man out.

“Sure, if you actually help this time!”

The two had that exchange of friendly banter as Adrian turned back to the empty bar, more sure of himself than he had been that morning. Still a little wary, but still ready to take the next step of things when the time came. 

He heard the light step of shoes against the floorboards of the Coyote, the only sound of real activity in the whole place. Curious, he started turning around to see who was approaching him.

Rebecca stood there, already halfway to him. Her eyes immediately jumped to his bandaged form, wrapped half like a mummy as the wounds beneath them healed. Her Crusher, which she had named ‘Glitter’ for irony’s sake, was held in her off hand, the other covering her mouth in apparent shock. 

“… uh… hey,” he said. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

A few seconds later, she was walking over to him, tossing her shotgun onto the bar counter and wrapping him in a hug that was just a little too tight. 

“Ah! Wounded! Very wounded over here!”

She loosened her hold on him, not causing him pain as she continued to hold him in her arms. Eventually, Adrian had the sense to hug her back, though lightly. Her eyes were closed as she pressed her face into his chest by her cheek, and Adrian let his rest on the crown of her head, his own eyes closing as he let the warmth of the contact sink into him.

“… came here with Falco,” she mumbled into his chest. “Said he was doin’ a favor to someone. Heard someone got injured with your description, came in as soon as I heard. What’d you do to get yourself hurt, idiot?”

There was no heat or anger in her tone, only concern. Adrian answered her honestly, knowing that there was little point in keeping what had happened from her. “Fought a cyberpsycho, almost got cut in half a few times.”

She pulled her face from his injured chest to look at him with genuine offense on her face. “Without backup? Seriously, there was no need to do that. You’re not MaxTac. You should’ve called someone.”

“That was part of the point,” Adrian said. “I’m not MaxTac; wasn’t trying to kill him. I probably should’ve called for backup, but I didn’t and I’m paying the price. I know it seems stupid right now, but I didn’t go up against him for no reason. You know I’m not the kind of person that takes needless risks.”

“… yeah, I know,” she sighed, burying her face near his neck, breathing out a long breath that tickled at his skin. “Explain all of it to me in a bit, yeah? I wanna enjoy this for a while longer.”

“… sure,” Adrian replied, adjusting their position so that she was sitting in his lap with her legs wrapped around his waist, his hands resting at the small of her back. It was a somewhat intimate position to be in, but they were on a stool, so it wasn’t like there was a lot of room for her to sit regardless. Minutes passed as they let themselves just be, for a while. It was strange, to slow down and do that, but this contact, skin on skin, was much more important than just the physical reassurance it provided. 

“… I really wanna kiss you right now,” she said, the heat of her whispered words against his skin arousing him such that his grip on her tightened ever so slightly.

“… I wanna kiss you too,” he admitted in turn. She pulled back from their embrace, one of her hands coming up to cup his face and bring him closer. 

“Then... may I?” she asked, her lips little more than a few centimeters away from his own.

His answer was to initiate the kiss first, pressing his lips to hers as lightly and gently as his clumsy experience could manage. Rebecca quickly picked upon it and kissed him back, the light pressure of it enough to send a rippling warmth through his entire body, strangely foreign and oddly familiar at the same time. Rebecca pulled him closer to her and he did the same, their bodies fitting together in such a way that the extended contact didn’t even bother his wounds. He could feel her thighs tightening around his sides, her fingers playing at his back, her breasts pressing into his chest, all of it warm and tingly and right. He knew that he must be doing something similar to her body, but he didn’t have the presence of mind in that moment to be completely aware of everything he was doing, and likewise with her. 

Eventually, they separated, panting lightly from the extended liplock, their cheeks flushed with smiles on their faces. Rebecca ran her thumb along the edge of his face, just under his burn scar. It didn’t feel unnatural in the slightest. To this day, she was still the only person who had touched that part of his face. And it still felt so comforting that it threw him for a bit of a loop.

“… you taste like good cigarettes,” she said with a smile. “And whiskey.”

“And you taste like sweet liquor and gunpowder,” he said in turn. “It’s a very interesting flavor pallet.”

“Hm? Are you saying I taste good?” she asked, eyes half lidded as she bit lightly at her bottom lip.

“Maybe,” he admitted. “But we should… uh… probably talk about some other stuff, before we get carried away?”

Rebecca sighed, pulling herself from Adrian’s lap as she hopped onto the nearest stool with a bit of a huff. “I know. It kinda annoys the hell out of me, but you’re right. There’s stuff we need to talk about.”

An odd, pregnant pause fell between the two of them, as though they were waiting for the other to begin. That nervousness that Adrian had felt that morning came back to him again, though not quite so strongly as it had back then. He breathed, trying to settle his nerves, managing to slow his heartbeat from a war tempo to a somewhat steady rhythm. he turned to her, and asked the first question that had been burning in his mind for the last few days.

“Do you… regret what happened?” he asked.

“No - never.” The answer was so sudden, sincere and certain that it honestly took him by surprise. “If I had the same choice in front of me a thousand times over, I would never regret doing what I did. Do… do you?”

“No,” he answered just as quickly. A few moments passed before the look of surprise faded into one of genuine joy.

“Good. That’s… that’s good,” she said, wringing her hands together in a nervous display. “So, uh… we haven’t really had a chance to discuss a lot of what… this is now. What do you wanna call it?”

“I mean… the only labels I really have for it are ‘input and output’ or ‘boyfriend and girlfriend,’ and I know you’ve had both before,” Adrian said. The fact that she’d had partners before him wasn’t remotely a turnoff. It was actually just a little bit of a comfort, that one of them might actually know what the hell they were doing. “Do want to call it something else?”

“… maybe?” she said, as though unsure herself. “I mean, I’ve used those labels before, but those relationships were mostly sexual. And despite the… intense lip-lock we just partook in, this isn’t just that. But also… I dunno. Input and output are just slang terms for boyfriend and girlfriend. And I think this is that kind of relationship, but… urgh!”

Her grunt of frustration was understandable, and Adrian responded to it by placing his hand over her own. Rebecca breathed, letting the tension wash through her as she adjusted her hands to grip his in turn. “Thanks. Uh… I’m fine with using the terms if you are. I just…”

“Yeah?”

“… the main thing I’m worried about is moving too fast,” Rebecca admitted. “Not that you’ll move too fast; I’m worried that I might try to move too fast. I’ve made that mistake before, and I’ve been burned for it. The whole reason I turned to casual sex before I stopped doing that too is because… well, my last few relationships didn’t burn particularly bright, but they did burn fast. A couple of weeks, and then suddenly: BOOM! Breakup! I think they may have just gotten bored of me or something…”

“If anyone could get bored of you, I’m pretty sure they’ve committed the grave sin of having taste so bland they think Buck-O’-Slice is gourmet.”

She laughed at that, though he could see some gratitude in her gaze as well. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, choom - er… sorry, not sure how I should address you casually anymore.”

“It’s alright,” Adrian waved off. “You’re allowed to take your time and see what’s comfortable. Honestly, I kinda need that right now, too. I, uh… I’ve never been in a relationship before, so this is all pretty new to me.”

“No worries,” Rebecca said, tapping his nose lightly with a smirk. “I’ll be happy to be your first for a lot of things. But given how you went at it, I’m pretty sure I wasn’t your first kiss, was I?”

“… uh…”

“… holy fuck, I was your first kiss.” For some reason, that was enough of a surprise for a massive blush to practically cover her entire face. “You, uh… it certainly didn’t feel like that when it happened.”

“I just… kinda did what felt natural, at the time?” He did idly wonder if Dead-Eye was part of the reason for it. The passive effect was running almost constantly in the background - enough that he didn’t even think about it anymore. “Was it bad-”

“Adrian, I’m going to say this once, and I need you to hear me, alright?” He nodded, Rebecca looking him directly in the eye as she continued. “I wouldn’t have made out with you for damn near an entire fucking hour if I didn’t enjoy it. You were good. Not perfect, but I’ve definitely had worse kisses than those.”

“… oh.” Some part of Adrian’s mind he wasn’t totally aware of had known that, on some subconscious level, but having her speak it aloud brought it into stark focus, and it gave him a bit of a confidence boost. Not much, but enough that he was confident in that much, at least. “Thank you. You were… you were really good too. Uh… what should we do from here, then?”

“Not sure,” she admitted with a shrug. “Been on dates, but mostly as a pretense to sex. I’m not well versed in what most people would consider ‘traditional relationships,’ despite my experience.”

“Neither am I,” Adrian replied with a smile. “Wanna just… try a coffee date or something?”

“Never been on one of those, actually. Sounds nice,” Rebecca said with an excited smile. Then she seemed to remember something, looked down at her style of dress, and sighed heavily as her smile fell. “Gonna have to think of something else to wear, though. I like the way I usually dress, but it’s not really polite for people on a date to just throw a hoodie over a set of underwear and call it a day.”

“You don’t need to go out of your way on my behalf,” Adrian said. “If you’re comfortable with it, I won’t ask you to change.”

“I know,” she said, a sultry smirk crossing her lips. “But… maybe I want to.”

A blush came across Adrian’s face as he shook some images from his mind that were definitely not meant for polite company. She smiled as she took his hand in hers. “So, you gonna be alright? We’ve kinda been skirting around your injuries for a hot minute now.”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” he said, touching at the edge of the bandages with only the slightest prickle of pain. That MaxDoc was certainly helping out. “I’ll probably visit Vik’s tomorrow to get some more thorough treatment done, but I’ll be fine until then.”

“Vik? Your ripper, right?”

“Yeah. Actually haven’t seen him in a hot minute,” Adrian said, a bit of worry coming through on his face. “He might kick my ass for that when I show up like this.”

“I don’t think most ripperdocs are prone to violence,” Rebecca said. “They’re mostly brainy types who just install what you ask ‘em to. At least with the ones I went to. Thank fuck I never went to Fingers…”

“Who’s Fingers?”

“Trust me on this one: you don’t want to know.” The seriousness in her tone was enough for Adrian to drop the topic then an there. 

“Point taken,” he said, turning back to the bar. She tugged on his hand, bringing his attention back to her as another blush creeped into her cheeks. 

“Uh… y’know, I, uh… I don’t think kissing is moving too fast, so…”

Adrian smiled as he leaned over, pecking her lightly on the lips, in acknowledgement of her point without trying to initiate anything further. The smile she gave him when they parted was far more beautiful than any sunrise.

Adrian Walker’s Status:

LEVEL: 13 → 14

SREET CRED: 15

€$: 39858 → 43964

Stats and Skills:

BODY: 5 → 6

Athletics: Lvl 4 → 5

Annihilation: Lvl 1 → 2

Street Brawler: Lvl 6

REFLEX: 9

Assault: Lvl 3

Handguns: Lvl 6

Blades: Lvl 3

TECH: 7

Crafting: Lvl 5

Engineering: Lvl 3

INTELLIGENCE: 3

Breach Protocol: Lvl 1

Quickhacking: Lvl 1

COOL: 9

Ninjitsu: Lvl 4

Cold Blood: Lvl 6 → 7

Notable Cyberware:

FRONTAL CORTEX: None | None | None 

OCCULAR SYSTEM: Dead-Eye Optic

CIRCULATORY SYSTEM: None | None | None

IMMUNE SYSTEM: None | None

NERVOUS SYSTEM: None | None

INTEGUMENTARY SYSTEM: None | None | None

OPERATING SYSTEM: Dead-Eye Combat Analysis Regulation & Assistance Device [Mrk 0]

SKELETON: None | None

HANDS: None

ARMS: Military Grade Arasaka Cyberarm

LEGS: None

Chapter Text

August 19th, 2075

Night City, CA.

11:01 am PST.

4 months before a certain car accident.

Adrian tried not to look guilty as he walked into Misty’s Esoterica the next day, looking guilty under Misty’s withering glare, He scratched at the back of his head as he entered, trying to think of some excuse as to his current predicament.

“So…”

“Don’t wanna hear it,” Misty said with a sigh. “You’re alive, that’s what matters right now. Vik’ll have a spot open shortly.”

.

..

…

“… sorry,” Adrian said. 

“I know,” she said with a long, weary sigh. “I’m sorry for snapping. It’s just… you’re nineteen, damnit! Nineteen year old boys don’t go and throw themselves into the Edgerunner life by the seat of their pants or get damn near split in half by fucking cyberpsychos. And yeah, I know you had training before this, but still!”

“I’m okay,” Adrian said, reassuring her before a lance of pain went through his side, causing him to wince. “Mostly okay.”

Misty came out from behind her counter, pulling Adrian by the hand into one of her chairs. The young merc let out a bit of a groan, though it was one of relief, not one of pain. “Thanks, Misty. Uh… sorry you have to deal with this.”

“Trust me, Adrian; I have seen much worse than this,” Misty said with a smile. “Just… never thought I’d see one of you so young, y’know? I get worried.”

“Sorry for not checking in more often,” he apologized. “In related news, Maya’s having a lot of fun with her cyberdeck.”

“Really?” Misty asked. Despite her genuine interest, he knew that she was mostly doing this to keep his mind off the burning agony in his chest. “She written up anything interesting yet?”

“Nothing she can test,” Adrian admitted. “She’s having a lot of fun, though. It’ll get her through the day, until I find her a proper teacher. And, uh… well, not sure if I should talk about this, but I have an output! … I think.”

Misty just raised an eyebrow at him. “You either do or you don’t. Or you’re in a weird ‘friends with benefits’ situation that inevitably leads to someone catching feelings.”

“Output! I have an output,” Adrian clarified. He really needed to stop doing this whole ‘doubting himself’ thing. He and Rebecca had agreed to this, to see where it went, so for the moment, they were input and output. As simple as that.

“Is it that lady you mentioned last time you were here? Uh… what was her name? Rebecca?”

“Yeah,” Adrian said with a smile. “You’d like her. She’s, uh… very bold.”

“So you’ve told me,” Misty said with a chuckle. “Need any water?”

“No, I’m good, but thank you anyway,” he politely declined. “Anyway, we’re, uh… going out for coffee tomorrow morning. It’s gonna be a lot of fun, I think.”

Misty just smiled at him, like a proud older sister.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing. Just… glad to see you doing something normal, for a change. It’s comforting.”

“I guess. But, uh, I’m definitely not normal.”

“Not anymore,” she admitted with a shrug. “And considering the circles you walk in now, I doubt she is, either. Is she an Edgerunner too?”

“Yeah. She’s… well, she’s kinda terrifying, but that also kinda makes her sexier, for some reason? I dunno how to describe it.”

Misty just sighed, lightly patting him on the arm. “You don’t need to justify your interest in women to me. I have seen much weirder cases than someone who’s attracted to a woman who can kick their ass.”

“Do I want to know?”

“No. No, you do not,” Misty said with a shiver. “I still have nightmares about this one guy who came in. I’m not supposed to judge, but, uh… I sincerely hope that things worked out for him. Because I am not dealing with any of that again.”

“… huh.” That was really all Adrian had to say on the matter, with the little context that he possessed. Though, a question did come to mind. “Did his name happen to be ‘Pilar’ by chance?”

“No, why?”

“Nothing; just checking a hunch,” Adrian said, simultaneously relieved and disturbed that the tall, gangly man might not be the only one of his kind in Night City. “How’s business been, anyway?”

“Slow,” she admitted with a sigh. “You and your sister are the only people who come in regularly, and you never buy anything.”

“Sorry,” he said, sheepishly. 

“Nothing wrong with that; I’m just a little frustrated, that’s all,” she said with another sigh. She seemed to be doing that a lot. “This whole city’s lost touch with its spirituality. Maybe I should do some advertising or something? Ugh, but then I’d have to talk to a Media or something, and I don’t have the money for that…”

“Can’t say I can do a whole lot to help you there,” Adrian apologized with a shrug. “Also, don’t the Valentinos follow god and Santa Muerte and all that jazz? Maybe you should try getting some more customers from that crowd?”

“Not the kind of spirituality I’m talking about,” she said with a chuckle. “Mine is a bit more of an eastern influence, rather than a well established religion. I’d say it’s closer to what the VooDoo Boys have going on, but it really isn’t. They’re got their own stuff. The only concrete thing I’ve got on their religious practices is that they’ve apparently left their gods back in Haiti when they immigrated to Night City. Not really sure what that means, and I don’t think they’re gonna share anytime soon.”

Adrian shrugged. It wasn’t like he had any more idea of what went on down in Pacifica than she did. The VooDoo Boys already had a reputation that kept most sane people away from there altogether. Other than the Animals, but they were more located at the southern fringes rather than any actual part of the place. 

“Besides, I get at least one decent customer every now and then, other than you and your sister,” she said. “Haven’t seen him in a while, though.”

“You mean Jackie?”

“… yeah - how…?”

“Met up with him yesterday,” Adrian said, touching at his bandages with a light, gingerly touch. “Kinda the reason I got a decent patch job at all.”

“Mama Welles?” Misty asked, though there was some disapproval in her tone.

“Yeah, why? You got a problem with her?”

She sighed. “No, but I don’t think she likes me very much. Can’t think of why.”

“Whatever, sis.”

“We’re not related,” Misty pointed out.

“You are the closest thing I have to an older sister in this whole damn city. Besides, you’re like, what, five years older than me? It wouldn’t be that unusual.”

“We don’t look anything alike.”

Adrian raised a brow at that.

“Just because my natural hair color is black proves nothing. But… thanks. I’m honored that you think of me that way. Even if you could stand to stop by more often,” she finished with a pout.

“I’ll try to do better,” Adrian promised. “When I’m not busy, anyway.”

“Hey, you’re here now, even if it is because you’re injured,” Misty said. “Besides, I know that M’s got you for the afternoon. Anyway, you can go ahead and see Vik now; he’ll be happy to see you too, after so long.”

Adrian nodded, promptly leaving Misty’s Esoterica to the alleyway that it led to in the back. He went down the steps and entered Vik’s clinic as spacious and sterilely clean as it had been the last time he’d come there. He noticed the doc himself on his rolling stool, watching a big name boxing match on one of his monitors while he adjusted the metallic ripper frame on his left hand with wrench. It seemed to be a favorite pastime of his, which was unsurprising, considering his continued association with the NC Devils Boxing Club.

“Hey Vik,” Adrian said, his smile again turning sheepish when the man looked him up and down, noticing the bandages. “I, uh… I guess you already know what I’m here for?”

“I can certainly guess,” the older man said with a chuckle, his gravely voice a surprising comfort to Adrian as he wheeled over to his operating chair. “C’mon, let’s get you sat down so that I can have a proper look at those cuts.”

Adrian nodded, pulling off his jacket with only slight discomfort before he did as he was told, slumping into the chair as Vik started peeling away the gauze bandages, and the pads that had become sticky with Adrian’s blood. It was a bit of a slow process, getting it off, but he managed it, disposing of the bandages in a nearby biohazard bin. Keeping that stuff separate from normal trash solved a lot of problems. 

“Well, the stitches are holding up nicely, and you don’t appear to be bleeding anymore,” Vik said as he looked him over. “Who did the patch job for ya?”

“Ms. Welles, at Coyote Cojo.”

“Jackie’s mom? Huh. Haven’t heard from her in a bit. She doin’ alright?”

“Enough to make jokes that make Jackie uncomfortable.”

Vik laughed at that, as though expecting such a thing. “Yeah, that’s Lupe alright. Hey, why were you over there anyway? Given the fact that these cuts look pretty painful, I don’t think it was just for a casual stroll.”

“Uh… no. No it wasn’t,” Adrian said, bracing himself for whatever colorful variation of ‘idiot’ he was about to be called. “I, uh… was tracking a cyberpsycho. To bring it in alive.”

.

..

…

“… and?”

“Huh?”

“Did you bring them in alive? The cyberpsycho?”

The intensity in his gaze took Adrian off guard, even through the dark lenses of his glasses. He managed to compose himself for a basic answer, though. “Y-yeah, I did. Why?”

“… Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he muttered to himself as he went over to his pad, pulling out a wire to stick into one of Adrian’s ports. He let him do so, and Vik seemed to be using the exam and diagnostic as a pretense to gather his thoughts on the matter. “You… you’re fuckin’ scary, kid. I mean, MaxTac can reliably take down cyberpsychos, but they’re chromed to the gills and armed to the teeth. Not to mention that I’m pretty sure at least half of them got recruited from a cyberpsycho watchlist themselves. And they’re trained to kill, not capture. The fact that you took one down by yourself, with minimal cyberware, and alive at that? That’s scary, kid.”

“I didn’t do it completely alone,” Adrian admitted. “Jackie came in at the last minute to save my ass. If he hadn’t I probably would’ve been forced to kill the guy to stay breathin’.”

“Maybe. But like you said, last minute save. You still fought a cyberpsycho on your own and damn near took them down by yourself!” Vik said, seeming genuinely excited. “So, the question isn’t whether you’re capable. The questions is: can you do it again?”

Adrian wanted to object to that statement, but on it’s face, Vik had a point. Even if Jackie had come in for the last minute save, he had still done most of the fighting. If it hadn’t been for the unexpected use of speedware - the model of which he was still unsure of - he probably would’ve gotten the guy down in no time. Hopefully, the next cyberpsycho he went after would have less chrome of the illegal speedware variety.

“Hey, Vik?”

“Yeah?”

“The cyberpsycho I fought. He had speedware of some kind. Either a Krenzikov or a Sandevistan. I never got a good look at his chrome, so I’m not sure which it was.”

Vik quirked a brow at that, pulling out some kind of applicator to run along the cuts in his front. He started as he spoke to Adrian’s statement. “Well, how did he use it?”

“As a distance closer. I know that people with speedware use it like that when they can’t really handle the effects, but considering the fact that the guy was obviously cyberpsycho, I think it was more likely a fault of the hardware itself,” Adrian recalled. “If he’d been able to use it for longer than half a second in real time, he probably would’ve used it sooner.”

“Mm. Sounds like a last-gen Krenzikov to me,” Vik said as he moved on to the other cut. “Time dilation effects don’t last particularly long, but you can use it more often.”

“Huh. Wonder why he didn’t use it, then?”

“Who can say? We have no idea what was going through his head at the time. Besides, the issue’s a moot point, now.”

Adrian nodded, conceding to the point as Vik put even more bandages over his chest. Marcos was with Regina’s people, undergoing treatment. He just hoped that it would lead to something. 

“Anyway, while I’ve got you here, how’s Maya taking to her cyberdeck?”

“Surprisingly well,” Adrian answered, smiling at the thought of her. “She’s started on some basics, but we’re still looking to get her a tutor for everything.”

“Good,” Vik said. “I ain’t no Netrunner, but I’ve heard horror stories from some who come to see me from time to time.”

“Yeah. So, anything in particular I need to watch out for while I’m healing?”

“For one thing, don’t go and get into any fights for the rest of the day,” Vik said as he placed fresh gauze over the wounds. “I know you’re heading to M later today, but make sure he understands that training counts for this. Doctor’s orders. That stuff I just put on your wounds will decrease your recovery time to a few days instead of a few weeks. But please, please, please don’t do anything to tear your stitches. I don’t wanna see you back here for at least a week.”

“But I barely come by here,” Adrian said, feeling guilty. “Misty’s feeling kinda lonely.”

“Kid, the main reason you come to a ripperdoc is to either get a checkup, get something installed, or get sewn up,” Vik said, patting his shoulder with affection. “I’m glad I don’t see you more often. Means you don’t get yourself injured on a regular basis.”

“I do generally try to avoid that. Bad for business and all. Hey, how much do I owe you?”

“Two thousand and change for the stimulant gel and the diagnostic,” Vik said. Adrian immediately brought up his account in his optic and sent a transfer notice to Vik, who quickly accepted the money. “Thanks for the business, kid. Seriously though, no fights until that’s better, got it?”

“I hear you doc,” Adrian said as he pulled his jacket over his bare back. “M’ll hear you too, I think. Actually, how do you know him, anyway? I never got the chance to ask.”

Vik gave Adrian an odd look, like he was surprised that he hadn’t told the story already, but he shook it off quickly. “Well, back when I was still in the ring about… ten-ish years ago? Anyway, I had a match against this ex-Militech fucker with tech out the ass. Reinforced joints and knuckles, artificial musculature, and what I’m pretty sure is dermal plating, in hindsight. A bunch of other stuff I’d never thought to take note of, either. Anyway, I’m basically all ‘ganic except for my eyes, so it didn’t exactly go well for me. I got some good hits in, but the ones that he landed on me were better. Hit harder. At the end of that fight, I broke four ribs, bruised my internal organs, sprained my shoulder and had micro-fractures in both of my arms. Wasn’t a good fight, but I lived. But this asshole felt that even getting the hits that I did get on him were somehow an offense to his sensibilities. So, he went and tried to make it a street-fight, where rules don’t get in the way and you can die pretty damn easy. Up to that point, M was mostly just a silent observer, enjoying the sport and technique more than the injury, like some of ‘em did. He saw the signs, and stopped him. When the guy tried to get past him anyway, M knocked him flat on his ass with a single hand!”

Adrian nodded. That definitely sounded like his mentor, calm, competent and utterly ruthless. 

“So, he got me up, helped me get to a ripper, and even came to visit me when I opened a clinic of my own. We’ve talked on and off over the years, but we’re decent friends, I think. Still don’t know his real name, though I have a few guesses. Nothing that doesn’t sound absolutely ridiculous, though.”

“I hear you there,” Adrian sympathized, his own strongest guess all but indirectly confirmed by the man himself when they’d met for the first time. “Thanks for the story. Anyway, I’d better get going. He’s, uh… not very forgiving when it comes to tardiness.”

“Run, little rabbit!” Vik said with a smile. “Lest the hunter loses his patience.”

“Your metaphor makes no sense,” Adrian deadpanned.

“Just get goin’ already,” Vik said with a shooing motion. “I don’t need M jumpin’ up my ass today. That man is fucking scary when he wants to be.”

About an hour later, Adrian was sitting in the warehouse that he and M used for training. It was the same as it had been the last time he’d gone there, mostly bare save for the training equipment set up by the older man. Today was no different, with some training dummies in one corner and a series of targets set up on a firing range in the other. Many holes and indents lined the wall behind it, evidence of their practice. Considering the fact that it was Watson, though, gunfire wasn’t an unusual sound to be heard there, especially in a warehouse. 

“Well, I am glad you’re alright,” M said with a sigh, steepling his fingers against a table with a long case in front of him. “Even if I’m of the opinion you shouldn’t have let yourself get injured in the first place.”

“M, the guy had speedware! He was going to cut me in half!”

“That might be true, but there were still plenty of things you could’ve done to avoid the situation in the first place,” M replied, turning to Adrian with a stony expression. “You should’ve done a full scan of his available cyberware, see what he had available to him beyond just the obvious stuff. Every cyberpsycho has some trump-card up their sleeve. Never doubt that. Still…

“I am glad you made it out alive. And that you didn’t kill him either. You did good.”

His stony expression turned to a slight smile, though there was an odd warmth to it. Adrian was legit surprised. He’d expected the man to be stern, which he had been, but it was rare that he gave out praise of any kind. He felt… touched.

“Thank you.”

“Now, that’s not to say that what happened wasn’t stupid,” M said, undercutting his own praise a bit. “But you came out of that situation alive, and that’s what really matters, no matter how stupid I think it was. Just to make sure, though… are you gonna do something like this again?”

“Probably,” Adrian admitted with a sigh. He knew that there was little point in hiding this from the man. 

“Well, at least you’ll be better prepared next time,” M said with a sigh. “Still, getting attacked by a cyberpsycho mid-job and defending yourself accordingly is one thing. Hunting them down? That’s another thing entirely. So… I’d much prefer that you had something appropriate for the job.”

He picked up the long case off the table, walking over to where Adrian sat and placed it in front of him. The case was dark, made of textured, reinforced plastic that looked resistant to a great many things, with four locks along the seem of the case that were currently closed. And given the weight that was suddenly put on the table in front of him, the case was heavy. 

M, rather dramatically, flicked open the latches one by one, as though this were some movie. Though, when Adrian looked a bit closer, it seemed less for the sense of drama and more because of his own sense of hesitation. Like he was about to open an old box that was supposed to stay shut for good. Adrian didn’t have a lot of context for those emotions, but it was clear that, even in this moment, the man was conflicted.

He managed to shove those feelings under a stony mask as he finished opening the case, breathing out as he looked Adrian in the eye. “This is something that was used by… a very good friend of mine. They’re not around anymore, but I’ve been maintaining this thing for a long time. Just in case… well, doesn’t matter anymore. You’ll get more use out of it now than it will sitting in storage. Go on; open it.”

Adrian was a little startled at his sudden eagerness, but id as his mentor asked, pushing the top up to reveal the contents. It took every ounce of strength for Adrian to not go completely slack jawed. It was a rifle, but not slender and sleek like one used for hunting. No, this rifle had the bulk of a proper Tech weapon, with a long barrel with electromagnetic generators on the sides, with a stock that seemed adjusted to handle heavy, heavy kick. A scope was attached to the top, meant for magnifying targets, all of it painted a dark, night-sky black. It was a beauty of a weapon. And a rare one. A rare, expensive one. A Tsunami Nekomata. One of the most powerful rifles ever built.

“What the hell…?” Adrian asked, unable to keep the excited grin from his face. “Holy fuckin’ shit, this thing is preem as hell!”

“You bet your ass it is,” M said with a grin of his own. “This thing has been modded to the nines and back, and it’s a damn good gun to boot. You won’t be able to fire this thing as fast as a normal Nekomata, but the shots that you do make with it are gonna be far more powerful. Enough that, if there weren’t more powerful guns out there in the world, this thing could be considered, for all practical intents and purposes, a goddamn Borg weapon.”

That was a lot, but it made him no less excited. He wasn’t wrong. This this could technically be considered just on the cusp of that line between normal firearms and Borg weapons. Probably one of the few that could, actually. The Malorian 3516 might’ve been another, if the sheer backlash hadn’t broken every bone in his arm when he’d fired the thing. 

“Good thing my shoulder’s already cyberware, then,” Adrian said, pulling the dark rifle from it’s casing. The electromagnet generators on the sides whirred to life in response to his movements, and he couldn’t help but grin. “So fucking nova…!”

M smiled on, though his expression seemed a bit… melancholic. Like seeing Adrian with the rifle was bringing back memories of a time he hadn’t thought of in years. He sighed, sitting down in one of the chairs with a weight on his shoulders, one that hadn’t been there a moment ago. “Sit down, kid. Story time.”

Adrian raised a brow at M’s statement, but saw the look in his eyes and quickly complied, sitting across from the grizzled man with the rifle set on his lap. The older man sighed audibly, stretching his hand of flesh while his cyberarm rolled the fingers of his hand in a slow, wave motion. It was a small thing that helped them get to terms with how their cyberarms functioned as compared to their normal ones. Adrian did it too, usually when he woke up, but M often did it as an unconscious tic of some kind.

“A long time ago, back when I was… more active than I am now, in roughly the twenty forties or sometime thereabouts, I worked often with this one agent,” he began. M rarely told stories, and almost never about anything between the Scorchin’ Twenties to the late twenty fifties, before he’d gone into ‘retirement,’ so this was a rare opportunity indeed. “They had this codename: Night Hawk. It’s honestly just as comic-book derivative as a lot of the other ones I heard. When I first met ‘em, I didn’t think too much of ‘em. Still don’t think back to anyone else from that time other than as faceless mooks. After a while, it all kinda just blended together. 

“Night Hawk was… well, they were pretty robotic from the start, so I don’t have a lot to say regarding their personality. What really drew my attention was their skill. They are, to this day, one of the finest snipers and stealth operatives I’ve ever had a chance to work with. Back in the day, they gave me a run for my money. Me. They were so good that they actually once broke into a Tokyo penthouse, killed an exec, and slipped out without anyone noticing, with only me on observation duty and no Netrunner support. And it still took ‘em until morning to find the body!”

“… whoa,” Adrian said, in genuine awe.

“Whoa indeed,” M said. “Over the years, we worked together a few more times, until they finally told me that they were planning to… cut ties with our employers. And When I mean all ties, I mean all ties. No cyberware, no retirement plan, not a goddamn thing. They wanted out. And they tried to make Night Hawk stay; they really did. But in the end, the obliged. And Night Hawk walked off into the distance, with their lips sealed and the clothes on their back. Metaphorically, I mean. Our people actually just dropped them off at the nearest city and wished them luck.”

“… what happened to them?”

“What happens to everyone, eventually,” M said. “They died. Like I said, I’ve been taking care of their gear for the longest time, but once they really died, and I knew that I’d never see them again… it felt wrong, to leave it there. Especially the rifle.”

Adrian looked down at the Nekomata once again, running a hand along the barrel as M continued on. “It was their favorite. Their preferred method of death, along with silenced pistols and knives aplenty. It’s hard for corpos to pull bullshit cyberware out of their asses when you can blow their skulls to bits from most of a mile away. Remember that this is a very lethal weapon. If you decide to use it on something like a cyberpsycho, it oughta be because you can’t take it in alive. This thing wasn’t modded to pull punches. It was modded to kill damn near everything set in it’s sights.”

The weight of the weapon in his lap felt significantly heavier, despite the fact that nothing had been added to it. He looked it over once more, eyes wandering as he searched for detail before he found an odd detail of his own. There was one part of the thing that wasn’t black at all. An etching in the stock of the weapon, of a bird’s side profile, wings spread in flight and talons extended as though to swoop upon something.

“Is this…?”

“Yeah. A little detail from Night Hawk,” M said with a smile. “They always liked those birds, and… well, I thought it was a bit of a happy coincidence that you also seem to like them. You’ve got one on your back, after all.”

“… I think I might paint that etching red,” Adrian admitted. “Just so that it matches up with my other weapons.”

M shrugged. “Hey, once you accepted that weapon, it was out of my hands. It’s… more appropriate for you to change stuff with it anyway.”

.

..

…

“… M?” Adrian asked, when the silence got to be too much, and a question came to mind. 

“Yeah?” he questioned in turn, though the forced neutrality in his voice suggested that he already knew what it was about.

“Did this Night Hawk… did they have something to do with mom? Did they know her or talk to her or…”

There were many implications that could be taken from M’s story, but nothing concrete. The fact that he’d potentially obscured Night Hawk’s gender was one such indication, though it was entirely possible that the person was nonbinary. Second was that he had only referred to their skills and not their hobbies or other such things as friends would do. Perhaps because Adrian might’ve caught on to something familiar. And the fact that he hadn’t elaborated on how they had died, only stating that they had.

However, that was all largely circumstantial. The evidence was vague enough to lead to a number of possibilities, including that Night Hawk was an alien visitor from outer space who’d visited the planet and gotten picked up by that as of yet unnamed ‘employer’ for some undisclosed reason. There just wasn’t enough of anything to lead to something conclusive. Which, he suspected, was the point. 

“Okay then. Keep your silence,” Adrian acquiesced. “But you still owe us answers. Me and Maya both. Okay?”

M nodded. “I know, kid. It’s… this ain’t easy for me. Never really talked about dead people I respected this much before. Not sure how to do it.”

“… me either,” Adrian answered with a long sigh. “But we can still try to do our best to honor them. Even if we fell like it’ll never be enough. “

The grizzled man smiled at that. And it didn’t seem wry or sarcastic or sadistic in the slightest. Just… grateful. He leaned back in his chair, pulling a cigarette out of his jacket pocket and lighting it up. 

“Just so you know, the rifle already has a name,” M said with an accompanying puff of smoke. “So no need to go on an endless crusade over the internet for the perfect combination of syllables or however you come up with those ridiculous names.”

“I thought you didn’t like naming guns?” Adrian asked with confusion.

“I don’t,” M confirmed. “But Night Hawk was much closer to your sensibilities when it came to specialized weaponry. Tried to give my guns names every time we went out on a mission. I think you can guess how that went.”

“They failed?”

“I didn’t budge,” M said, smiling fondly on those memories. “But that was a long time ago. And in the meantime, that didn’t stop them from naming their own weapons despite my insistence.”

“So… what’s this one called?” Adrian asked.

“Eventide.”

It was an oddly beautiful name for such a darkly colored weapon. And as Adrian looked to the etching, and the red that would soon color it, it wouldn’t be inappropriate. An Eventide was a kind of prelude to a sunset, an old term for ‘evening,’ when day slowly started to fade into the night. Adrian smiled down at it, hefting it in his arms as he aimed down the sights, safety on and his finger nowhere near the trigger. 

“It’s a good name,” Adrian commented. 

“It’s a good weapon. It deserves one,” M said. Sighing, the man stood from where he’d been sitting just a moment ago. “Anyway, I should let you rest for now. You’re still recovering, and I understand that you’ve got a date tomorrow.”

“How did you…?” Adrian asked, before he thought back to the only person he’d told about his plans for the day. “Misty told Vik, and then Vik told you.”

“Guilty as charged, kid,” M said with a chuckle. “Still, glad to see you finally made a move. I’m not sure what I would’ve done if I hadn’t seen some actual progress on that front.”

“What would you have strangled me out of pure frustration?”

“If you managed to fuck something up, maybe,” he admitted with a shrug. “Now go home and rest. I have a feeling you’re gonna need it.”

Adrian Walker’s Status:

LEVEL: 14

SREET CRED: 15

€$: 43964 → 41235

Stats and Skills:

BODY: 6

Athletics: Lvl 5

Annihilation: Lvl 2

Street Brawler: Lvl 6

REFLEX: 9

Assault: Lvl 3

Handguns: Lvl 6

Blades: Lvl 3

TECH: 7

Crafting: Lvl 5

Engineering: Lvl 3

INTELLIGENCE: 3

Breach Protocol: Lvl 1

Quickhacking: Lvl 1

COOL: 9

Ninjitsu: Lvl 4

Cold Blood: Lvl 7

Notable Cyberware:

FRONTAL CORTEX: None | None | None 

OCCULAR SYSTEM: Dead-Eye Optic

CIRCULATORY SYSTEM: None | None | None

IMMUNE SYSTEM: None | None

NERVOUS SYSTEM: None | None

INTEGUMENTARY SYSTEM: None | None | None

OPERATING SYSTEM: Dead-Eye Combat Analysis Regulation & Assistance Device [Mrk 0]

SKELETON: None | None

HANDS: None

ARMS: Military Grade Arasaka Cyberarm

LEGS: None

Chapter Text

August 20th, 2075

Night City, CA.

10:29 am PST.

4 months before a certain car accident.

“So… this really is just a normal fuckin’ coffee date?” Pilar asked as Rebecca continued to rummage through her drawers, hoping to put together some kind of casual seeming outfit that wasn’t in her usual ‘throw it on and forget about it’ style of dress. “That seems mighty uncharacteristic of you, little sis.”

She just threw a pillow at him, which he managed to dodge at the last second before it buried itself halfway into the wall with a surprisingly loud impact sound. Rebecca ignored it and went back to looking through her drawers, eventually finding a good looking, short-sleeved dark blue top that exposed her shoulders and some of her midriff, putting it on her bed as she started looking for a pair of shorts or a skirt that would match it. “Because I haven’t been on one yet! Besides, you’ve met Adrian! You know he’s not just a pretty face to me!”

“Yeah, but he is a pretty face. Didn’t you only start going out with your last input after you guys had already fucked?”

“That was the last one, not Adrian,” Rebecca said, pointing a finger directly in Pilar’s face from inside her room. “I’m taking this slow because I want it to work out! Anyway, aren’t you seeing that Georgia woman, too? It’s not like you’ve got room to talk, bro!”

“That’s because we’re fuckbuddies, not input and output,” Pilar waved off as Rebecca managed to find a pair of black leather shorts, comparing it to a similarly colored skirt as he continued. “We know what we’re about for each other, and what we’re about fucking each other until we can’t think! Just sex; one of the easiest things to find in this whole fuckin’ city.”

“Right,” Rebecca said with a sigh, tossing the leather shorts behind her next to the top. As it turned out, when you had artificially white skin and bright pink tattoos, darker colors tended to offset them nicely, especially when you could actually coordinate all the colors. “Never forget the age of consent in Night City…”

“Money,” the siblings said simultaneously. It was a dark thought, but it was nonetheless true. Legality and morality pushed aside, there would always be people with sick and twisted desires. It was part of the reason she never bothered to spare any of the Tyger Claws she’d come across in her years as an Edgerunner. No sex traffickers survived her wrath. 

Rebecca picked up the top and shorts from her bed and walked over to the entrance to her room, placing the top over her chest and her shorts at her waist, where they’d roughly be when she actually put them on. “Stockings or no stockings?”

Pilar seemed to give it some consideration for a few seconds before he answered. “Depends. If you’re wearing boots, I’d suggest fishnets. If you’re wearing pumps, feel free with wear something like a transparent mesh. If you’re wearing regular shoes, then don’t bother.”

“I don’t even have pumps anymore…” Rebecca muttered to herself. “Though I do have fishnets from my Mox days. Hmm… boots and fishnets it is!”

She rocketed back into her closet as Pilar audibly sighed outside her door. Although they rarely got along, they were both decently tuned in to what looked good on one another. And, as siblings, they could also be ruthlessly honest with one another when a shirt did not, in fact, go with those pants. It didn’t happen very often, as they tended to fight for what amounted to any amount of time that they interacted outside of those times, but otherwise it proved to be a semi-decent bonding experience. When Pilar wasn’t being Pilar, that was.

Rebecca stepped back out of the room with her outfit on. She had to say, it did feel good to dress up again. Sure, she wasn’t going to dress like this every day, but she did like the prospect of doing it every once and a while, when she wasn’t on a job. Still, the next question that came out of her mouth was just as important.

“Tails or no tails?”

“Down, but brush it out a bit more,” Pilar said sagely. “No hairband unless it’s flat. Your usual one doesn’t look as good unless you’ve got your hair in tails.”

Rebecca shrugged, figuring that it couldn’t hurt to try it out, at least. They weren’t meeting for another thirty minutes, so she had some time. She went to the shared bathroom and set to work, lightly pulling the bristles through her long, sea-foam green locks of hair as she attempted to style it accordingly. She tended to have her hair down when she was at home, since she almost never tried to style it when no one was going to see it anyway, but this was a little different. 

Once she was done brushing it out, she took some lengths of hair from the right side of her face and pinned them back with a stylized hair slip snap with a flower motif on it’s end, colored a plain black to match her shorts, contrasting her pastel green locks pleasantly without throwing off her entire look. The hair to her left remained loose, her efforts to style it paying off, framing her face with a few longer locks.

“Yes!” she excitedly whispered to herself, pumping her fist once in victory. “Now, for the finishing touch…”

Rebecca pulled out various pieces of makeup setup that she hadn’t used in almost a year, lightly tracing the edge of her eyes with blue eyeliner that matched her top in a catseye style, quickly coating her lips in the same shade. 

She then walked out of the bathroom, placing a hand on her cocked hip and smirking at her brother. “How do I look?”

“… surprisingly normal,” Pilar said, confused and fascinated at the same time. “Objectively hot, but in a normal way.”

“That’s what I was goin’ for,” she said, beaming as she practically skipped over to the door of their apartment. “Anyway, don’t burn the building down while I’m gone, please?”

“That happened one time!”

“My point stands!”

“You helped!”

“My point! Stands!”

And she left, leaving a very confused elder brother in her wake with a jaunty little tune on her lips.

“It really doesn’t!”

Adrian breathed out a bit of his nervousness as he straightened up, running his hands over his newer pants as he waited for Rebecca to show up. He wore a much different getup to what he usually wore, with an unbuttoned red shirt with a fitted grey undershirt that matched his pants. His boots were the same as ever; they went with basically all but the smarmiest of corpo suits, but he had tried to style his hair differently than normal, combing it straight and smoothing it back rather than putting it into the mess that it usually rested in. He still wasn’t entirely sure that was the best idea, but it wasn’t like he’d gelled his hair into that position. He could always change it if he needed to.

He also checked both of the holsters he had on his person, the underarm one that held Reckoning and the back one that held Calamity. Adrian gave a slight breath of relief at that, though he’d checked at least five times in the past thirty minutes. Hell, after Maya had given him a few good teases about going on a date, she’d actually made sure he’d remembered to take his guns with him. It was strange. When he didn’t wear his normal Edgerunner getup, it was like the need to carry his guns just… well, it didn’t disappear, but it felt a lot less overwhelming. He supposed it was because, most of the time, when he put on that red hawk jacket, he expected to get shot at.

“I should probably have it reinforced,” he idly whispered to himself, tapping his heel against the ground as he waited.

“Have what reinforced?”

Adrian turned towards the familiar voice, a smile on his face before he was stopped dead in his tracks. Now, he’d always thought of Rebecca as being attractive, even in her common street clothes, but this… this was dazzling. She wore a dark blue top that exposed both her shoulders and her midriff in a stylish fashion, the bottom hem slightly billowing while the top hem clung snugly to her skin. Her shorts were made of dark leather and were skintight, basically outlining every part of her hips, thighs and ass that they clung to, complimented by fishnet stockings that led into boots that ran partway up her calves. Her hair was no less striking than her getup, left to fall loosely down her back in a waterfall of sea-foam, with the right side kept under control with a stylish black slip snap clip while the left had long locks hanging loose to frame her face. Her pretty features were further accentuated by the dark blue eyeliner and lipstick she wore that matched her top, and Adrian could admit to himself that he was feeling no small urge to pull her into his arms and kiss her silly.

He did notice the fact that she was actually carrying something else over her shoulder: a small purse, made of dark leather with a single button on it to keep it shut. Adrian saw the change in topic from a mile away and took it before his mind could get away from him.

“Well, my regular jacket,” he said, glancing obviously at the bag held over her shoulder. “I never thought I’d see the day that you actually carried a purse.”

“I know,” she said with a grin. “I actually had to go back and get it last minute. That’s why I’m a little late - sorry.”

“No worries, I didn’t wait that long,” Adrian reassured her. “Anyway, what’re keeping there? Your gun? Eddies?”

Rebecca leaned closer to him, an impish grin on her face as she answered in Spanish of all things. “Why not both?”

Her accent when she spoke in that language… he had to admit, it sent a delightful shiver down his spine. He smirked as he offered her his hand. “You’re learning more Spanish?”

“Bit by bit.” she said, taking his hand gently with her own as he led the way towards the coffee shop. “I’m still learning most of the basics, but idioms help a lot. Like, uh… well, I’m still learning, but I do like how they say don’t fuck with me. Sounds catchy.”

“I had a feeling you’d like that one,” he said as they continued over to the coffee shop. It was a relatively small place, just beside a bodega that specialized in Japanese fare - a rare sight in any part of Night City, especially Japantown. At least half of the businesses in the city were corporate owned and managed, leaving family owned stores on the back foot. Still, it was nice to see that some parts of the city hadn’t fully given in to the corporations yet. The Garden of Choice was one such establishment.

“So, where are we going?” she asked with a cute little tilt of her head. “I don’t really come to Japantown that often.”

“Especially not since you kinda have on on-sight policy for Tyger Claws?” Adrian teased.

“It certainly helped keep me away from this place,” she admitted shamelessly, with a flirty smirk. “Besides, you like my feisty side.”

“Never said I didn’t.”

“I know.”

“Anyway, to answer your question from earlier, this is Sugetsu’s Coffee,” Adrian said, translating the neon katakana into proper English for his date’s benefit. “It’s not a famous place, but it serves good stuff, even a few pastries of the Japanese variety. I’ve never been one for eastern sweets, though, so I haven’t bothered to look at that part of the menu.”

The two then entered Sugetsu’s, which was decidedly small in an oddly warm way that most of the city couldn’t replicate. Customers either drank their coffee in relative silence or spoke at a polite volume, sometimes in English or Spanish, but mostly in Japanese. A number of tables were scattered around the space with a few chairs that varied depending on how big they were. There were a pair of smaller booths towards the back that could likely sit four people each, or perhaps two Maines if the were that big, with about four stools sat near a countertop window view. In the left corner sat all the coffee makers and the register counter, with some meager baked goods displayed in a window and a number of coffee machines on display as people worked at them diligently. It was a very unusual mage in Night City, but not one that he was averse to. 

“Well, at least said menu is bilingual, even if their sign isn’t,” Rebecca muttered to herself. Adrian had to admit, that was one of Japantown’s less than pleasant aspects. Almost every sign for every business that wasn’t corporate owned was in Japanese and only Japanese. While that wasn’t really a problem for the majority of the district’s population - the hint was in the name - it did hold up people who didn’t know Japanese or have auto-translator programs installed in their optics.

“You wanna get anything in particular?” he asked. 

The sea-foam haired woman gazed at the menu for a few moments, perusing her options before she voiced her decision. “I’ll take an iced coffee with cream.”

“Alright, I’ll grab a latte then.”

The two quickly placed their orders and found a place to sit nearby, a smallish table at the edge of the place that looked out of one of the windows. Adrian wasn’t sure how he should handle the whole ‘decorum’ business, because Rebecca was a confident woman who might not appreciate those things, but that was him making assumptions. But it was a moot point as they took their seats, Rebecca hanging the strap of her purse over her chair as she tried to sit down. 

Oddly enough, the way she chose to sit spoke to just how not used she was to a typical environment. She started by almost sitting cross-legged on her somewhat narrow seat, finding herself quickly needing to regain her balance by hanging onto the table. Adrian smiled in amusement at that development, to which Rebecca promptly responded by sitting normally, though it seemed to require active effort on her part. 

“What?” she asked, embarrassment clear on her face even if her blush was only slight in it’s appearance.

“Nothing,” Adrian replied, his smile still on his face. “Just a bit odd, seeing you in a normal environment.”

“Hm? In what way?” she asked.

“Well, it’s just… I usually see you shooting people or hanging out in our bar. This just seems pretty new to you.”

“It is,” she said with a smile of her own. “Like I said, I’ve never been on a coffee date before. Actually, I haven’t been on a dinner date before either.”

“Right,” Adrian said, not commenting on the unfortunate fact that most of her dates were little more than a thinly veiled pretext for sex. “Well, how do you wanna start out? We should probably lay out our interests so that we have some idea of what we’re doing.”

“As opposed to blindly stumbling into each other’s hobbies and trying to find something that works? Honestly, that sounds a lot more reasonable than what one of my old girlfriends did,” Rebecca said with a sigh.

“Rough story?” he asked, knowing the likely answer. 

“Yeah,” Rebecca said. “Insisted that we ‘figure it out over time,’ and then when I tried to take us out on a date she either flaked or complained about it not being what she wanted to do.”

“Ouch,” Adrian said with a wince. “That doesn’t sound at all reasonable.”

“I know!” she said with a grateful smile. “Glad to hear someone else say it. Honestly, if she wasn’t so good in bed, I probably would’ve broken things off with her a lot sooner.”

“How good are we talking?” Adrian asked, more curious than uncomfortable.

“Enough to leave me panting for a few minutes afterwards,” she admitted, before realizing what they were talking about. “Sorry, we shouldn’t be talking about sex on a coffee date. Especially when we haven’t even done anything like that!”

“It’s alright,” Adrian said. “We’re still figuring this all out. So… other than Road Rage, what kind of TV shows do you like to watch? I’ve kinda tried to catch up with the series, but it’s not really clicking with me.”

The conversation went on like this for several minutes, the two discussing their interests and finding several overlapping points. For example, while Adrian had yet to get any tattoos of his own, he was interested in perhaps getting some ink done at some point in the near future. Rebecca actually knew a decent tattoo artist from her Mox days who had done her ink, and that she was thinking about expanding her own ink to include some stuff on her back, though she was currently undecided on what it would be. 

They were also pretty into anime, though neither of them were all that interested in the modern crap that got produced by Arasaka like it had come straight through a propaganda pipeline. Adrian, like any sensible guy, generally preferred shonen stories, especially some of the stuff that had come out during the early Scorchin’ Twenties, like My Hero Academia, Jujutsu Kaisen and Chainsaw Man along with older series like Naruto, Bleach and the long lived One Piece, though he also enjoyed the occasional slice-of-life comedy or romance that sometimes caught his interest, like Spy X Family, Toradora and Golden Time. Surprisingly enough, Rebecca was actually a pretty big fan of harem comedies, specifically Highschool DxD and Rosario + Vampire, mostly because she liked to make fun of them and the very stupid tropes that they employed. And the fact that the latter show had caused her to realize that she was very bisexual at around age thirteen.

“Huh. Well, you came around to that realization a lot sooner than my sister did,” Adrian commented. “Maya didn’t realize she was a full-on lesbian until sophomore year of high school, and only after I critiqued her frankly terrible taste in women.”

“Eh, the anime was the initial impetus for that realization, but I didn’t fully come to terms with the fact that I was bi until I was fifteen, when a girl kissed me for the first time. After that, I realized I liked kissing both guys and girls about the same,” she said, waving it off with a hand. “It’s a pretty boring story, anyway. There are a million like it in this place.”

Adrian shrugged, not pushing the subject aside but leaving it on the metaphorical table, in case she did end up wanting to talk about it. The young merc glanced over to the countertop when he heard their names called, noticing that their coffee was done.

“I’ll go get our orders,” he said, standing from his chair and walking over to the countertop. The lady who held their orders was a roughly in her mid thirties, and of Japanese descent by her sharper features. She smiled at him as he took the cups from her. 

“First date?” she asked with a knowing tone in her voice.

“Yeah - how could you tell?” he asked, curious.

“Eh, when you’ve seen stuff like that as much as I have, you tend to see some similarities,” she said, holding up a single finger as she spoke further. “Like the fact that you two were probably friends and genuinely like each other, but are still adjusting to a new relationship dynamic.”

“… are you psychic or something?” Adrian asked, slightly terrified that this woman had their number, given the few interactions they’d had in the shop itself. 

“Nope! I just have pretty good intuition,” she replied with a smile. Some noise was heard from where Adrian had left Rebecca, and he and the coffee shop lady looked over towards the commotion. A pair of gangers were getting up in Rebecca’s face, looking almost as flashy as any regular Tyger Claw, except for the fact that their clothing was cheaper than most of their ilk and their cyberware was all barebones combat implants. Even the lowest of the Claws liked to incorporate crazy colors into their looks, whether through cyberware, hair color implants, clothing, or all three. These two looked more like hopefuls than actual members, but Adrian recalled some of the ‘initiations’ from back during his gang days. He’d only been a fringe member, but the ones that he’d heard about sounded gruesome. 

And that was only half of what Rebecca would do to the poor idiots if she suddenly lost her patience and started a fight in the middle of the shop. 

“Those motherfuckers…” the woman behind the counter muttered to herself as she groped under the countertop, only to realize that the thing she was looking for - likely a weapon of some kind - wasn’t there anymore. “Damn. Hey, do you mind getting those assholes out of here, if you can? If they decide to stick around, stall ‘em for as long as you can. I’ll be back in a minute.”

After that, the Japanese woman practically tore off her barista’s apron as she marched up the stairs, and Adrian was left with two steaming cups of coffee and a pair of idiots who seemed like they were high on action, though drug use was not an impossibility. He walked over calmly as they continued to harass Rebecca with some frankly rude and very inappropriate comments.

“C’mon babe! I could pay you a few hundred to suck both our cocks,” one of them said, a thinner man with a wiry frame and visibly reinforced knuckles, though there was little cyberware of note other than that. “It’d be a good day for you!”

“Yeah, c’mon babe,” the other said, his most notable features being the frankly stupid looking mohawk that was drooping towards the back and a monovisor that reminded Adrian just a bit too much of Pilar. “I’m dyin’ to stick my dick in an eager mouth!”

“Jesus hell, are you two actually deaf?” Rebecca muttered, half to herself and half to the men in front of her, all out of sheer disbelief. “I have an input! It has been literal years since I’ve worked a corner, and I’d like to have a pleasant day with a guy I actually like! So please, for your own sakes, kindly fuck off before I have to make you!”

Unfortunately, what was obviously a let off for the idiots that were continuing to bother her went clean over their heads. Hell, one of them seemed to take it as a challenge rather than a complete condemnation of what they were doing. “Oh! Playin’ hard to get, are ya whore-?”

Adrian rather loudly placed both of their coffee cups on the table, halfway blocking their access to his output in the interim. He straightened to his full height, towering at least a quarter foot over the other two men as he levied a glare their way that was none too subtle. “Look. Even if she was single, she’s clearly not interested in you two. I don’t know whether I should blame a lack of manners or a particular subsection of mommy issues, but it’s clear to everyone with eyes and an IQ above ten that she’s not interested. So take the hint and fuck off.”

The two looked at him with clearly dismissive looks in their eyes despite both the height difference and his rather indiscrete military grade cyberarm. One of them actually got up in his face - within kissing distance - and tried to make a threat in Japanese. “We’re gonna do what we feel like with the slut, and you won’t be able to do a damn thing about it. So shove off before we chop you into little bits, you fuckin’ nobody.”

Adrian laughed at their rather pathetic attempt at a threat, even with that guy still within inches of his face. The young merc was tempted to lash out with violence, to beat them so bloody that they would feel it in their bones for the rest of their lives. But he declined from going down that route. Instead, he rather calmly responded to them in Japanese, which seemed to unnerve them almost as much as his words did.

“It’s cute that you think you’re threatening,” Adrian replied, his tone calm and genial as he continued on. “You seem to have taken your intimidation tactics from playgrounds and ten year olds. It’d be even funnier if I didn’t find it so pathetic. So, I’m going to tell you what’ll happen in the next few minutes if you don’t take your lumps and leave. First, you’ll say something even more rude and inappropriate than you already have. If you say it in English, the pretty lady sitting there will either shoot you both on sight or beat you two to death with her bare hands - and she can do that. Trust me, I’ve seen it happen more than once. You really don’t want that. If you say it in Japanese… well, I’ll take it slow. First, I’ll break one arm each just to make sure you stay down. Then, I’ll move to all of your finger bones, one by one until neither of you can so much as touch a wall or grab your own cocks. Where we go from there is a place that I frankly don’t want to contemplate. But go ahead. Push your luck. See just how far that gets you.”

One of them was clearly curbed by his words, but the other was still as unperturbed as he had been a minute ago, as though Adrian’s threats to his wellbeing had come in one ear and gone out the other. “You think we’re scared of you, ya fuckin’ nobody?! We’re Tyger Claws! We rule this fuckin’ district, dumbass!”

“Maybe. But even rulers have gotta be careful straying from their castles, now don’t they?” Adrian pointed out. “And besides… I’m not the one you need really to worry about right now.”

The young merc smoothly stepped back as the middle aged woman from the counter brought the butt of a shotgun around to whack the bolder of the two goons in the face. He immediately toppled to the floor, clutching at his cheek while his friend looked like he was about to step in, only to realize that the woman was pointing the business end of said shotgun right in his face. 

“How many times have I told you Claws to fuck off?!” she yelled in English, for everyone to hear. She pumped her shotgun for emphasis as she went on, not relenting for even a moment. “For the love of all the gods, it seems like every time I have this conversation, I need to make another point a week later. So let me lay it out for you: Sugetsu’s will not pay! We have not paid in two decades, and we will not pay now! So fuck off before I give your bosses a real reason to pay attention to this little coffee shop, you fucking blowhards!”

The scrambled out of the shop rather quickly after that, barreling past a customer and causing one woman to spill her drink, but they got out like bats out of hell. The Japanese woman sighed, lowering her shotgun and handing it to one of the other people behind the counter. She waved to everyone in the shop with a smile on her face and tried to salvage the situation as best she could. “My apologies to all our customers this fine day. The next round of orders will be on the house, as a show of apology for this unfortunate incident.”

The rest of the customers got pretty excited at that as the woman turned to Adrian with an apologetic smile on her face. “My deep apologies for asking for your involvement, and that your output was harassed. Anything you want for today - on the house. Thank you very much. That could have turned far worse than it did.”

“I’m just glad I didn’t have to spill any blood today, madam,” Adrian answered with a smile of his own. “But I will take you up on that kind offer, though.”

“It’s the least I could do,” she said, lightly pushing him towards the table, where Rebecca still sat. “Now go to her. Have a nice time.”

Adrian waved his thanks to her before he sat back down at the table, coffee still untouched as he looked across at his output. She looked… pleased, rather than upset at the development. He raised a brow as he asked, “What’s got you in a good mood?”

“Well, for one thing, we’re getting free stuff for the rest of the day,” she pointed out. “But I also just got reminded of something that I find pretty attractive about you.”

“Oh? And that would be?” Adrian asked as he took a sip of his latte. It was really good. 

“You’re sexy when you get all scary,” she said, smiling at him coquettishly as she went on. “I mean, I don’t speak a single lick of Japanese, but I know a threat when I see one, and seeing you just shut one of them down… I’m secure enough in myself to admit that did something to me. And I think I liked it.”

Adrian raised a brow at that, not doing a spit take like a character from one of their aforementioned anime would. Instead, he gained a sly smirk of his own and leaned forward a bit to whisper to her. “Then, you wanna know something that I find attractive about you?”

“By all means,” she said, taking her coffee in hand and sipping at it as well. 

“I love watching you while you fight. I dunno why, but watching blood fly while you’re in the middle of a hurricane of violence, smiling and having the time of your life… it’s very arousing.”

The blush that came on her face when he said that was so bright and so red that, for a few moments, he thought she may have gotten heatstroke. 

Chapter Text

August 27th, 2075

Night City, CA.

4:39 am PST.

3 months and 3 weeks before a certain car accident.

Kiwi sighed heavily, the cigarette smoke billowing out of the exhaust ports in her mask as she idly stared out her window. She was naked, as was her habit in the comfort of her own home, idly tapping her heel against the floor as she thought of a response to the person who’d called her. “Is it really that sensitive? Because if it is, you should really get a proper Solo to do it. Better yet, you should call Maine, get my crew in on it.”

“I’m afraid that this requires a bit more of a… delicate touch,” Faraday said, his deep tone audible even over the holo. “Most of your crew is often unsubtle in their approach. They are effective, but they are a set of hammers. What I need is a scalpel. And you are a very fine scalpel.”

“Is this a roundabout way of flirting?” she asked, turning to the window as she continued to airdry, the slick of her ice tub rolling down her form. “Because you can forget trying to sleep with me. Once was a mistake, and I don’t plan on repeating it.”

“You’d know if I was trying,” he said with a chuckle. “But the metaphor stands. I need a scalpel. Therefore, I called you.”

“And like I said, I’m not a Solo,” she pointed out once again. “That den of Tyger Claws is so thick with members that I’m surprised that no one’s marked it as a hotspot yet. It also doesn’t help that the Netrunning angle is largely moot because it’s almost a completely closed network - which is something I’m pretty sure hasn’t been done since the Time of Red. I’m not going to be able to get in there without a legitimate reason or Optical Camo, and I have neither.”

“My job is not to tell you how to do yours. It is to do what I must with what you retrieve for me. Yours is to get that information to me in a timely fashion. I leave the manner with which you accomplish that in your capable hands.”

After that, Faraday cut off the connection before Kiwi could further object. She sighed, slumping down into a nearby chair, crossing her legs as she tried to think. Faraday almost always went to Maine when he needed shit done, rarely feeling the need to hire lone operators unless things got truly hairy. He didn’t seem particularly ruffled, but he never did. That was part of what she liked about him. Though she still regretted sleeping with the man. Didn’t even bother to get her off in turn. It wasn’t uncommon in her own experience, but she still considered it very rude.

Still, what to do? she thought to herself as she took another long drag of her cigarette, the unusual color of her chosen brand distinguishing it from others of it’s ilk. Lucy was out of the question. Faraday didn’t know about her apprentice, and she wanted to keep it that way. She already felt awkward having such an obvious personal attachment, even if it was predicated on a teacher/student relationship. She also didn’t think that her young apprentice was particularly ready to sneak into a den filled to the brim with Tyger Claws. She was good, but she wasn’t that good. Not quite yet.

Of course, Kiwi could take this problem to Maine. Go over Faraday’s head and get this all done properly. Except Maine didn’t like Faraday on the best of days, and likely wouldn’t appreciate the fact that the man was going out of his way to try and recruit members of his crew from under the table work for an admittedly tempting chunk of eddies. Dorio was out too because Maine would never agree with it and she always took his side, even when she maybe shouldn’t. Her own opinions on the woman aside, she did admire her loyalty to her romantic partner of over a decade. Even if Kiwi thought that same loyalty might well get the buff boxer killed someday.

Can’t trust no one in Night City. You’ll just get yourself killed or maimed.

Her thoughts then turned from those two to other members of the crew. Falco was… well, she thought he was handsome in that rugged Nomad way, and a damn good wheelman, but that was really about it. She knew very little about the man, but that was mostly because he was naturally quiet. Never really spoke about his past when he wasn’t prompted, and even what little he’d told was relatively vague. Except for the fact that he’d been born in The Republic of Texas. He seemed rather proud of that, as most people from that place were.

Pilar… no. Just… no. Even if she took his lecherous attitude out of the equation, there was only one thing that took him off the board for this: his lack of subtlety. The man was loud and outrageous in the best and worst ways, and was the latter far more often than not. It also didn’t help that the guy was a fucking perv to the extreme with tastes so eccentric and fucking wild that she honestly shuddered to think about him. The fact that he had no concept of shame or modesty was also another mark against him, though it was more personal than practical.

Rebecca wasn’t nearly as bad as her brother but she was just as loud and attention grabbing. She was a fighter, one of the best in their whole group, and probably could’ve made it as a full time Solo even before Maine had picked her up. In fact, Rebecca had been one of the original members of the crew when it had formed a while back, along with the old Netrunner who’d died in a job against Biotechnica. No one really talked about her. Kiwi was fine with that - dwelling on people you’d lost could do a lot more harm than good - but it was strange that she only knew Sasha’s name. 

Still, she supposed that the loss of her friend had reinforced one of Rebecca’s key traits: loyalty to those she cared abut, even to her own detriment. Rebecca was just too loyal to not keep this under wraps even if she had been good at sneaking in, which she most certainly was not. It wasn’t like she could go in there casually either, since any Tyger Claw could recognize her Mox-style tattoos from a mile away and then it would be open season on her in an appropriately bloody fashion.

The thought of Rebecca did bring to mind the fact that, for the first time in a long time, the woman was in a committed relationship with someone. That friend that she’d brought to the Afterlife to celebrate his birthday. The one that people had attached to a very specific nickname. Redhand. There were a few other floating around, stuff that she could only half recall with any kind of clarity, but that was the most popular one by far. And it’s weight was only growing by the day. Hmm…

“I wonder if she could give me a discount. Or better yet, his holo ID…”

“She really said that?” Adrian asked his output as they talked over the holo, Maya twitching excitedly on her bed with a large grin on her face as she continued her self-imposed coding practice. 

“Yeah,” Rebecca said with a bit of a huff. “Apparently, the rest of the crew isn’t subtle enough to get into this place as she’d like. Won’t talk about the client, but she apparently wants to keep this on the down low. I dunno what the hell she’s getting at with that. It’s not like I can’t act classy!”

“… Becca, are you jealous of the fact that I’m going to be pulling a B&E on a Tyger hideout and you won’t?”

“No!” 

A beat of silence passed.

“… maybe. A little,” she said with a large sigh. “I get that subtlety isn’t a specialization of out group, but c’mon! She didn’t have to twist the knife like that!”

“Mm. So, what should I do? Is she gonna be calling me soon?”

“No, you’re gonna call her,” Rebecca said as a holo ID card came through over his texts. “I wanted to have you to myself for a few minutes before you got dragged into this all the way. Be careful, alright? Kiwi’s an ally, and a good one to have, but she’s a dangerous person to be around. She prides herself on her distrust. Never talked a lick about her past, but something’s clearly eating at her.”

“Don’t we all?”

“Not the point. She might have named herself after that flightless bird, but she’s more akin to a snake than anything else. Or maybe a spider.”

“… nah. More snake than spider.”

Only one person could stand in for a spider in Adrian’s mind. A man with four eyes, long limbs, and a dismissive, superior bearing about himself. It turned his stomach just to think about the man. 

“Probably, but my point stands. The old hag’s always rubbed me the wrong way. Don’t get me wrong - I’d take a bullet for her. Sometimes that’s the job. But I have a distinct and overwhelming feeling that she wouldn’t do the same for me. Or any of us in the crew, really. Except for maybe Lucy, but even that’s a stretch.”

“Your backup Netrunner, right? The… what was it you called her? ‘Cold-hearted bitch’? That seems a little harsh.”

“It might be harsh, but it ain’t inaccurate. Actually, you were never introduced to her, were you?”

“Nope. She flaked on my birthday party.”

“Yeah. Well, you’d know it was appropriate if she had. Seriously, quietest person I know, and she’s got this… air of superiority around her. Can’t really describe it, I just know that it pisses me off. Reminds just a little too much of some of the corpo assholes who came by Lizzie’s for a quick blowjob. Tipped well, but only because a few thousand eddies is chump change to them instead of a month’s worth of rent.”

Adrian nodded, even if she couldn’t see it, silently agreeing that corpos were the fucking worst. Unfortunately, they also had all the money, and they quite literally couldn’t afford to be picky. Still…

“Maybe it’s a defensive thing? You know how this city is to most people.”

“Yeah, that’s the thing. Only other thing I really know about her for sure is that she’s not from Night City.”

“Really?”

“Yeah! Sounds nuts, right? Well, anyway, I shouldn’t keep you from the job any longer. Bye. And good luck, babe.”

“Thanks. Talk to you later tonight.”

The call cut off, and Adrian began to psych himself up to call Kiwi. The impression that she’d given off at the Afterlife a month ago was… well, it wasn’t friendly, that was for damn sure. Not really hostile either. More like someone who was always on the defensive, never giving anyone the chance to get close in order to justify her apparent paranoia. Still, she needed a favor, and it involved eddies. Adrian would never say no to that. 

He added her holo ID card to his contacts and quickly called her up. The woman let it go on for a few rings before she eventually picked up, and her tone was just as level and flat as it’s synthesized nature would allow. 

“This is Kiwi. You’re Redhand, I presume?”

“That I am,” Adrian answered, beginning to pace around the apartment while his kid sister continued to code in the background. “I heard from a friend-”

“Choom, I know you guys are dating. Becca gave you my holo ID so that I could get in contact with you. Anyway, I do need some help on this. Analogue hacking isn’t a specialty of mine, and neither is infiltration, but… I’ve heard your not so bad with those skills yourself.”

“I’m pretty decent. At infiltration, I mean. No ‘Saka ninja, but I’m quiet enough to get into most places unnoticed.”

“Well, as I’m sure your output told you, this ain’t most places. Still willin’ to hear me out?”

“I called you, didn’t I?”

“I suppose you did,” she briefly mused before moving on. “Like I said, this place is crawling with Tyger Claws out the ass. It’s in the southern end of Japantown, disguised as a remote pachinko parlor and general gambling den. Three floors, plus a basement to store god knows what, and a closed computer system do tightly done up that it’s basically a fucking prison. Nothing goes in or out through the Net. It’s like a rock in a river stream - obvious, but immovable all the same.”

“And this is where I come in?”

“Yes,” Kiwi said as she continued to explain. “They have Netrunners on watch twenty four seven in addition to their closed network. If I try to go in there while they’re active, it’s effectively handing myself over on a spit like a roast pig for a hungry feast room. However, while their security is tight, it isn’t perfect. I already have a few plans in mind for how to get you inside, as well as old plans for the building before the Tyger Claws moved in. What i really need you to do is find their central terminal. I know you’re not a Netrunner, so I won’t bother to explain it with those terms. Think of it as a bit of a combination of a heart and a central nervous system. I’ll be sending you a program that’ll get the information I need from there without having to go through so many firewalls. After that, you just have to get out of there, and no one should be the wiser.”

Adrian had to admit, even if they hadn’t discussed any of the specifics yet, it was a pretty decent plan. He was tempted to go there himself and take out the fuckers just because… well, they were fucking Tyger Claws. It wasn’t like they built their power through good deeds. It also didn’t help that they were pretty deep in bed with Arasaka. Although…

“Why’re you asking me, anyway? What this info related to?”

“Not the job. We’re supposed to get it, not ask questions about it.”

Adrian sighed audibly. “Fine, fine. Anyway, what’s my cut?”

“Normally, I’d say thirty five, since I’m taking the time to hire you and I’ m the reason this job is on the table in the first place. But considering your growing reputation, I’m thinking I’ll give you a clean offer of fifty-fifty.”

“Going halvsies?” Adrian asked, legitimately surprised. “You don’t seem the type.”

“Normally, I’m not. But like I said, people are starting to learn your name. I think it might do me a bit of good to get in your good graces.”

“So, blatant bribery?”

“That depends. Is it working?”

“Hmm…” Adrian hummed aloud as he thought on the offer. Getting half the payout for a job, even for something whose price tag he didn’t know yet, was a pretty damn good deal. Especially if this was going to be a duo project like she was implying. Still, that wasn’t the only thing on his mind as he turned back to Maya, still doing her usual thing with her cyberdeck. He still needed to get her a tutor, so that she was prepared for the worst that Night City’s Net had to offer. So…

“I might have an alternative proposal. Would you like to hear it out?”

A moment passed as Kiwi hesitated on the other side of the line, though she eventually answered him. “I’m listening.”

“How about this: I will forfeit any and all claim to monetary gain on this job in particular.”

“That… huh. I’m guessing you want something else, then?”

“You’d be right,” Adrian continued. “I need you to teach someone the ropes for me. I’m not a Netrunner, and other than you, the only Netrunners I’ve met have tried to kill me. So, I figured that this would be a good opportunity to get some stuff in order.”

“That’s… look man, I’ve already got one apprentice on the brain. She’s great and all, but I am still teaching her. Adding someone else in on top of that is gonna be a task and a half.”

“Well, that’s the alternative offer. I’m not sure what your rates would be for teaching her, and I’m not exactly flush with options at the moment. So, exactly how badly do you need to get this done and is teaching someone else amenable as payment?”

.

..

…

“… you’re lucky I think you’re good enough to warrant it at all,” Kiwi said with a huff. “Fine. Get this job done, and I’ll teach this person as best I can. For a few months, anyway. Who am I teaching, anyway?”

“My baby sister. Do treat her gently, alright?”

And with that, Adrian hung up the call as he glanced over to where Maya was sitting up, paying attention to Adrian’s half of the conversation. He gave her a wide grin. 

“Looks like we’ve got you a teacher, little sis!”

Adrian had to admit, Kiwi’s description of this place was fairly spot on, if kinda barebones. It was indeed a Tyger den, meant mostly as a hub for gambling apparatuses, with the aforementioned gang showing up in force both as the place’s body guards and as some of the workers. A smattering of cocktail waitresses sauntered about the place wearing skimpy as hell uniforms that Rebecca wouldn’t be caught wearing in public - which was saying something, considering her normal fashion sense - the surgical masks covering their faces and the tightness in their cheeks giving the impression of an ever-enforced smile.

“I really wanna burn this place to the ground,” Adrian said over the call as he brought the place out of the scope of Eventide. The Tech rifle that had once belonged to M’s old operator friend Night Hawk was largely unchanged in it’s appearance, though he had tinted the emblem on the stock red to match the rest of his guns. Unfortunately, since he was still sans any real means of transportation for at least a few more weeks, he was forced to make do with what he had. At least people in NC were used enough to people carrying around golf bags that he wasn’t given any particularly weird looks. 

“As much as your output might appreciate it, that’s not the job. Now c’mon; how’s it look compared to the old schematics for the building?”

“Pretty much unchanged, at least structurally,” Adrian said as he brought the scope back to his eye. “Lot of machines on the main floor, and that means too many eyes. A lot of guards there too, and I have no way of knowing which of the waitresses are Tygers and which ones are just staff.”

“I’d say look for te tattoos. The Tyger Claws take a lot of cues from the old Yakuza clans back in Japan.”

“Aren’t they all gone now?” Adrian asked, noting that all of the girls had some kind of ink on them to varying degrees. Not enough to easily differentiate between them.

“Kinda. They’re just really in bed with Arasaka, more than anything else. No pillars of virtue, but they do have some values.”

“I don’t think that really makes them any better than the Claws,” Adrian said dryly.

“It makes them pretentious at the worst of times and predictable at the best of them. Anyway, what’re you thinking for an entry point? Got anywhere in mind?”

Adrian scanned the building again, the architecture itself nothing special. It was just like most of the buildings in Japantown: compact with relatively wide alleys. Japantown had a lot of those for some reason. There were people hanging out in the main alley with what looked to be either boredom, purpose, or a strange mixture of the two that clearly wasn’t sitting well. Adrian breathed as he glanced up, trying to maybe find a window to slink through. He knew that the second floor had been converted into a place where private games could take place, things like Poker and… well, Adrian really didn’t know a whole lot about gambling - Poker was the big card game he knew, and only through cultural osmosis. The third floor was where he was trying to get to - where Kiwi suspected their Netrunner setup to be, but there was no easy way up there from the outside. Although…

“There’s a window to an unused game room on the second floor, relatively close to the entrance, Adrian said as he brought Eventide down, slinging the rifle over his back as he brought out Reckoning, fitting on a silencer that he’d bought that day as he continued. “I should be able to get in there without much of a fuss.”

“You’d better. If my client doesn’t make absolutely sure that this job goes off without a hitch, we aren’t getting paid a single eddie. And you’ll be out of a favor, so there’s that.”

“You keep forgetting I’m forgoing eddies on this job, don’t you?”

“It’s weird. I’ve never met a merc who’d willingly turn down cold, hard cash. Especially for the sake of someone else.”

“She’s my sister. It’s my job to take care of her.”

“Not according to this fucking place. You should see the spats that Pilar and Rebecca get into sometimes. Actually, considering the fact that you’re fucking one of them, you probably already do.”

“I know about the fights, but I’m not about to just abandon my sister. We’re kinda all we’ve got right now. Look, my relationship with my sister is a lot different than Pilar and Rebecca’s. It’s not perfect, but no relationship really is.

“Also, I haven’t slept with Rebeccca yet,” Adrian said, lighting up a cigarette as he walked down the stairs that had led him to the roof of the building across the street from his target.

“I… what the fuck did you just say? Because it sounded like-”

“Rebecca and I haven’t had sex yet. We both agreed that we weren’t ready for it.”

“… what the actual fu-”

Adrian cut off the call mid-sentence, a smile on his face as the smoldering light of his cigarette illuminated the area in front of his face and he continued down the stairs.

[That was rude.]

Probably, but it was also entertaining as hell.

[Oh, I am not denying that; please, continue to annoy people for my amusement, human meat puppet.]

As you command, oh gracious AI overlord! I am unworthy!

The two chuckled mentally as Adrian came to the end of the stairway, his cigarette already halfway gone. It was hard to smoke when you were moving down the stairs. The downward momentum shook the ashes loose if you weren’t careful.

[Still, you’re sure about this? I have a bad feeling about her.]

Sure, but just because she rubs us the wrong way doesn’t mean we can’t work with her. Besides, Maya needs a tutor, and she’s the best we’ve got.

[You’re certain? Maybe we could go window shopping?]

I am, because there’s a pretty fucking low chance we’ll run into another Netrunner anytime soon. One that isn’t trying to kill us, anyway. 

[Perhaps. Still, be careful. She may be on your girlfriend’s crew, but that does not make her trustworthy.]

Dude, she already warned me for five minutes. She’s not exactly a fan of Kiwi’s either.

[My point stands.]

The conversation cut off as Adrian reached the building proper. There was some fancy name on a neon sign that he could definitely both read and pronounce, but the put it out of his mind. Looking from side to side, and ensuring that no Tygers were looking his way, Adrian leapt up from the sidewalk to cling onto a pipe. Strangely enough, this didn’t cause any commotion on the street below. He supposed that, when you were so used to seeing gunfights every few days, one was a tad predisposed to ignoring anything that didn’t present immediate danger during one’s commute. 

Adrian pulled himself onto the pipe with a grunt, balancing on it as he pressed himself against the wall with a breath of air, making sure that no wayward grunts would be able to see him from any angle of the sidewalk. Slowly, he started shuffling towards one of the fire escapes on the front of the building, which held only minor decoration and no guards. It seemed that the Tygers weren’t particularly careful about this entrance, probably because they’d gotten it in there heads that no one would try to go for it in broad daylight.

The young merc reached the fire escape a few moments later, breathing out as he pulled Reckoning from it’s holster, establishing another holo call with Kiwi as he started to make his way up to the window he’d spotted earlier. 

“You in?” she asked, tone slightly hopeful.

“About to be,” Adrian whispered as he checked for cameras, finding none and quickly moving on. “Trying to make a move on this window. We’ll be able to communicate inside?”

“As long as this call is maintained, yeah. If one of us cuts it off, you won’t be able to make or recieve calls until you get back out it’s part of how they’re able to keep this place so damn secure.”

“Well, I’ll keep that in mind,” Adrian said as he sidled up to the window, aiming his silenced pistol through it as he scanned the room for guards. There was no one. The room was wholly empty except for the green felt Poker table in the center, with various chairs scattered around the room. There were some deep scratches in the grain of the wood - suggesting that something long and sharp had made them. Had this thing gotten caught up in a fight? And given the differentiated cuts all throughout it, it had probably been a sword fight of some kind.

“Also, what the hell was that about you and Rebecca not sleeping together yet?”

“Really? Is this really the time?!” Adrian whispered in a hiss as he slid through the window, keeping his body close to the ground. He scanned the room further once he was inside of it, finding a currently defunct security camera in one corner, though whether that was because it had been damaged or unplugged, he could not tell. 

“It’s not like I’m gonna be able to pick your brain any other time. Also, I don’t think Rebecca likes me enough to talk to me about relationship stuff.”

Of course she wouldn’t, if this is how you try and broach the topic.

[You were the one who brought it up.]

Don’t you start!

“Well, what exactly are you asking about?” Adrian questioned in turn as he pulled out his personal link, linking it to the camera to let Deck poke around a bit. As it turned out, having your own wired Netrunner had it’s uses, even if his capacity for use was extremely limited. 

“I mean why didn’t she just seduce you or something? It’s not like she finds you unattractive; whenever she wasn’t challenging people at your birthday party, she was pretty consistently making eyes at you. At least that’s what I remember before I blacked out.”

“You got pretty trashed at that party, didn’t you?”

“Urgh, don’t I fucking know it. It’s already been a month, and I’m still feeling headaches from that hangover now. I… wait a fuckin’ minute - you’re making me change the topic myself, aren’t you?”

“… fuck,” Adrian cursed as Deck completed his Ping and his scan of the camera covered parts of the building. “I was hoping you would fall for that.”

“Well, now I really wanna know! C’mon, spill some beans! Your secret’s safe with me.”

“I have the distinct and overwhelming feeling that it really isn’t,” Adrian whispered as he peeked out the door of to check which of the guards was closest. One of the guards was alone, leaning against the hallway wall with a cigarette in his hand, a camera loosely trailing back and forth in an idle way that told Adrian it wasn’t being actively watched by a Netrunner.

With a pair of quick shots, Adrian took the camera out first, causing it to spark slightly before it was dangling by it’s cord, and then the Tyger Claw guard had a bullet tearing through his brain before he could so much as contemplate what the hell had just happened right in front of him. His momentum took him against the wall as he slumped, sliding slowly down before he was left blooding from the hole in his head onto the rest of his outfit. 

“I can be surprisingly good at it, when people pay me to do it,” Kiwi offered as Adrian crept over to the Claw’s limp body, dragging him into the wrecked room before blood could start to pool, closing the door behind himself as he continued onward. Fortunately, Adrian had chosen the least guarded part of the floor to enter the building. Unfortunately, it was also the furthest place from the stairs that led to the third floor, and the other Tyger Claws weren’t likely to take to kindly to a trespasser that had just killed one of their’s less than a minute ago. 

“I still think I’ll pass,” Adrian said as he continued to sneak forward, boots whispering against tiled flooring that slowly gave way to carpet. 

“You know I’m just gonna keep pestering you until you tell me, right?”

“… fine, but if you tell another soul about this, Rebecca knows where you live.”

“No she doesn’t.”

“And if you want to keep it that way, you’ll keep your mouth shut.”

.

..

…

“… fuck, that is legitimately terrifying. Yeah, sure, cross my heart and whatever the fuck people say for shit like this. Now spill!”

“We both kinda decided, after some stuff where emotions were running high, that we’d take the time to see exactly how we felt about each other. We had a pretty long talk about it. Might have been some kissing too, but that’s as far as it went. We don’t just want each other because we’re attracted to each other physically. She’s really hot, but that’s not who she is to me.”

“… wasn’t really expecting all of that, but at the same time I’m not totally surprised. You seem the sentimental type.”

“Uh… thanks?” he said, unsure of how to take it.

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

Adrian sighed as he refocused on his current task, glancing through various partition windows as he observed various tables doing their things. It was a bit of a sight, seeing so many gamblers in one place, but less so than the crowded space of the downstairs. He quickly crept onwards, breathing in and out in an even pace, his feet not even a whisper against the carpeted floor. 

There were private rooms towards the furthest edges of the floor itself, each of them with fancy doors and numbers in Japanese. The Tyger Claws oversaw a number of card games, some of them between people who were more well-to-do than most of those in Night City, others between what were clearly higher ranking members of the Tyger Claws, if the suits and barely covered tattoos were anything to go by. They were of a much different style to the ones laced throughout Rebecca’s porcelain white skin - and not nearly as pleasant to look at, in his own opinion. 

“Fuck, you weren’t kidding - there are Claws everywhere!” Adrian whispered as he slunk past another section of the gang members, nearly shooting one of them on reflex when they unexpectedly came from one of the entrances and turned in the opposite way that Adrian was facing.

“See why I wasn’t totally confident about getting in there?”

“And you thought I’d be a better choice?” Adrian said, breathing slightly lighter as he managed to get to the stairs at the other end of the hallway after those few intensive minutes of stealth.

“Hey, you’ve already gotten a lot farther than I would’ve.”

“I can’t tell whether or not you’re being serious.”

“I am.”

Adrian continued on as he scanned the stairway for hints of enemies. No one came down, and he managed to slip seamlessly up the stairs before he scanned the rest of the floor. This part of the place was significantly less fancy than the lower two, stripped to only the barest of barebones. There was a tangible chill in the air as well, causing Adrian to shiver slightly in reaction to the change in temperature. 

“Third floor had a temperature change,” Adrian whispered as he scampered over to the nearest door, pressing himself against the wall as he prepared to sneak in. “I’m guessing that this’ll be where they’re keeping their Netrunner hub? What’s this thing look like, anyway?”

“Yeah, their main server room should be close if you’ve already noticed the temperature difference. Anyway, look for a place cold enough for mist to start gathering. The central terminal should be pretty obvious even to someone who isn’t a Netrunner. Just stick the program I gave you inside it, and I’ll pick my way in to find what I’m looking for.”

“Alright. Moving inside,” Adrian said as he opened the door, scanning the room for any sign of a guard or a Netrunner. Surprisingly enough, there were neither. Though, upon closer inspection, it really wasn’t. The room was more of a placeholder or break room, with a small fridge off in one corner, a single table with a few chairs scattered around it, and a counter with various coffee implements laid atop it.

“I’m guessing you Netrunners like your coffee breaks?” Adrian asked as he continued to the next door, which led into a narrow hallway that had no one in it.

“Depends on the runner. Personally, I prefer to either air dry or fuck someone’s brains out for the body heat and the stress relief.”

“Really didn’t need to know that,” Adrian said as he continued.

“Eh, not like it’s the weirdest thing I’ve seen done. At least it’s just sex.”

“Just sex?”

“Trust me, you don’t wanna know.”

“Okay,” Adrian replied as he reached the end of the hallway. All of the doors there were locked from the inside, and while he would’ve preferred to break in and see what they were, the fact that each of them had names attached meant that it was likely that each of the Netrunners had personalized rooms for their Netrunning activities. Adrian was not about to walk into that when he didn’t know the first thing about coding, or how potentially killing a Netrunner while they were jacked into this closed network would definitely alert all of the others to his presence. 

The doorway at the end of the hallway was exactly what he was looking for: a server room with several towers stacked against the wall like bookshelves, each of them sporting an odd glow that entranced him in an odd way. It was a strange, bluish hue, making it seem almost ethereal in combination with the mist that was clearly gathering near the floor of the space.

“Huh,” Adrian said, looking at all of the corners before realizing something bizarre. “Why the hell aren’t there any cameras anywhere?”

“Paranoia,” Kiwi answered with a sigh, as though she were disappointed, but understanding all the same. “It seems that even with the whole place in what’s effective a nearly impenetrable prison in the Net, they still want to make it hard for Netrunners to navigate the actual floor by hopping cameras. I guess they were always expecting to be dealing with Netrunners and not a Solo.”

“A good thing, in our case,” Adrian said as he tested the door. It was locked obviously, but he had to make sure before he moved to remove the panel for the glass automatic door and started fiddling with the lock. A few seconds later, he tripped the lock open with a nearly silent click, smiling as he slid the panel back in place and opened it up. “I’m in. I’m guessing the one I’m looking for is the one that looks like an evil magic pillar?”

Truth be told, it was more like a bit of an alien obelisk to Adrian, though he did recognize it as a server tower. However, it was notably larger than the other towers around it, sticking out at least half a foot with several glowing red lines pulsing along it’s mass, and it… well, if Adrian was being totally honest, it kinda freaked him out just a bit. 

“Yeah, that’s the one. Though I’ve never heard someone describe an Arasaka server tower as an ‘evil magic pillar.’ Don’t let their Techies hear you saying that.”

“Honestly, it’s kinda on-theme for them at this point,” Adrian said as he holstered Reckoning, popping out his personal link and jacking into the port. “Uploading the program now.”

“I see it,” Kiwi said over the line, excitement audible in her voice. “Okay, code installed, and no one’s the wiser. Hunker down and stay away from the door. I’ll need you on standby in case anything goes wrong.”

“Don’t jinx me here,” Adrian said as he slunk to the opposite wall from the terminal. “And you’re sure that they won’t be able to detect you?”

“Trust me kid, this tactic is an old favorite of mine. By the time they realize I was in there, you’ll have been gone for hours.”

“If you say so.”

“I do say so. I also say that you really need to stop with that superstitious nonsense.”

“I’m not superstitious, I can just recognize basic patterns.”

“Sure, whatever you say kid…”

Kiwi trailed off as she started to focus more deeply on her Netrunning, and Adrian was left to his own devices for a few minutes. He wasn’t sure if he could safely talk to deck while he was in the middle of a holo call. He’d never tested it before, and wasn’t about to try something that dangerous with someone whom he didn’t trust who also happened to be a Netrunner. 

it was in that idle state of thought that he heard someone out in the hallway, coming out of one of the Netrunner rooms. He apparently, someone’s boss was mad enough to pull one of them away from their work, at least for a few minutes.

“W-what did you w-want to talk about, boss?” the Netrunner asked in Japanese, with an audible shiver in their voice. Curious at the conversation, Adrian slid towards the glass door and peeked around it’s corner, trying to catch a glimpse of the two conversing.

“I have heard tell of a few finer specimens downstairs,” his boss intoned, voice deeper than Adrian expected to hear. In contrast to his subordinate’s Netrunner wetsuit, the man himself was dressed in a sharp suit with subtle jewelry that game him a certain air of confidence and control. He was tall and muscular, with a bit of cyberware visible on his neck in addition to the barest edge of a subdermal nanoweave tattoo on his right forearm in the shape of a tiger’s head in a very specific style. 

Adrian didn’t know the man personally, but he knew enough from the description he’d gotten from Rebecca and the picture that she’d shown him to know that this was the guy. Along with the warning she’d given to him. 

“I would like to… test the goods myself.”

“You-you sure? I kn-know that you’re in a bit of hot water-”

“I didn’t come up here to ask for your opinion,” Tai Ogata snapped at his subordinate, cowing the Netrunner before he continued. “I am telling you because it is proper procedure. I dislike it, but if the higher ups truly wish to know of my escapades, then they shall know of them”

“Understood, sir,” the Netrunner responded, done suddenly free of the chill. “Should I inform them now?”

“Leave that until your work is done for the day,” Tai instructed, turning towards the other end of a hallway. There seemed to almost be a smile in his voice as he called back one last time. “Wouldn’t want you to trouble yourself, after all!”

When the man was out of earshot, the Netrunner sighed audibly, muttering something about stupid bosses and perverse and depraved tastes before he went back into that room.

“Kiwi,” Adrian hissed over the line, gritting his teeth as he struggled not to scream. “You didn’t mention the fact that Tai Ogata runs this place.”

“Yeah. Has been for the last few months.”

“You should’ve told me before-”

“I didn’t tell you that because I was afraid of exactly this reaction.” The Netrunner said it so bluntly and succinctly that is honestly took Adrian aback for just a moment. “Look, whether or not he’s a frankly terrible person is beside the point. We’re not going to kill him, no matter the shitty things he’s done, no matter how deserving he is of death, because that’s not the job. You’re there to help me steal data, and to do it quietly. You dropping one body is already gonna make this a bit harrier. Not as much as if you’d killed guards left and right, but still. Dropping the fucking boss of the place? They’ll lock it all down so fast there’ll be no chance of you getting out alive. So suck up your goddamn morals for a minute. And. Stay. Put.”

.

..

…

“… fine,” Adrian said with a huff, driving his left fist into the wall just to let out a bit of the frustration. “But we’re not done talking about this.”

“Actually, we are.”

She muted her end of the call. Kiwi was still connected to his holo, but she wasn’t actively monitoring the connection, as she had been when she’d been talking with him. Adrian was going to be there for at least a few more minutes while she mined. And he was largely left to stew with his thoughts on what she’d just told him. She wasn’t wrong in a logical sense. They were there to steal data, not kill a terrible person. That was the job. He should do it. Hell, if M was here, he’d probably have fallen right in line with Kiwi’s reasoning. The man was a pragmatist, after all. 

But I’m not M. He wasn’t wholly a pragmatist, but he wasn’t deafened to his emotions either. They were just as much a driving force for him as the constant need for eddies. So, he decided to take a bit of a risk, and asked Deck a question.

If I recall correctly, there was an outstanding hit on Mr. Ogata, isn’t there?

[There is indeed. One worth a decent chunk of eddies. Do you wish to accept it once you leave?]

Hmm… I have an idea about that. Just… gimme an hour or two. Might need to wait on something.

“A job well done,” Faraday praised over the line. “Your speedy services are much appreciated.”

“As are your eddies,” Kiwi responded, having changed into more casual attire after she’d air-dried and sifted over the basics of what Faraday had asked her to get. Everything was there, not a bit out of place, and she’d just been given a rather hefty payday for all of it. “Pleasure doing business with you. Contract closed.”

“Indeed. I shall call on you again when you are needed,” Faraday said before the call cut off.

“Asshole never lets me get the last word in,” Kiwi said as she opened a can of beer. She debated whether she should swap out her mask for a regular faceplate for a little while, but instead opted to just pull the thing off her face and shove the liquid directly down her throat. She wasn’t looking to enjoy the alcohol, she just wanted to feel the buzz after a job well done.

A few minutes into that, she called Adrian. He’d terminated their original call in a huff, which she couldn’t blame him for, but still found foolish. Well, at the very least, she didn’t have to explain to Faraday why there had been two people on this job instead of just herself. The man got strangely terrifying when people went against his plans. She thought it was stupid, but she supposed that such an attitude came with being a control freak. 

He picked up the call after a few rings, his tone over the holo clipped and forced into neutrality. “Yeah?”

“Everything went off without a hitch. Looks like you’ve got yourself a deal, kid. I’ll teach you sister for you.”

Silence came from his end of the line. She sighed. He wasn’t going to let this go, was he?

“You’re still upset about letting Tai Ogata go. Given the fact that your output’s Rebecca, I get why. She’d probably told you some horror stories. But a job isn’t a place for feelings like those. It’d just be impractical to kill him in the middle of his turf while you have no way to get out of there. Maybe he does deserve to die. But that doesn’t mean you need to get dragged down with him. It’s just practical. You can’t do anything at all if you’re dead.”

“… that does make some sense,” Adrian said, though his tone clearly told her that he wished that wasn’t the case. “I do owe you for putting my head on straight.”

“Consider it a freebie,” she said. “It’s the only one you’re getting, so appreciate it. Anyway, it’ll be a little tough to fit it into my schedule, but I can see about getting her in during the next few days. After that, I’ll talk to her about a regular schedule.”

“Good. Take care of her; she can be kinda reckless at times.”

For a moment, Kiwi heard the sound of distant traffic through Adrian’s holo, as though it was coming through from a bit of a distance. Idly, she asked an almost thoughtless question. “Hey, where are you right now, anyway?”

“Oh, y’know…”

KABLAM!!!

“… around.”

Adrian observed the man’s dead body hit the side of his private balcony with a bloody splat, taking a picture with his optic that included his very dead face. He brought his eye out of Eventide’s scope as he sent the photo to the contact who’d set the hit out on the man months ago. A few moments later, he was netted a large sum of eddies as it registered as completed, and Adrian moved away from the roof.

He shouldered Eventide as he continued with the call, making his way towards another roof to take the way down. People would be swarming this building soon, since it was where the shot had come from, but there was another one that was only a jump away from him. It’s be easy to get there fast.

“What did you just do?” Kiwi asked voice a bit apprehensive. “Why did I hear a gunshot?”

“Completed a hit I took… oh, just about an hour ago,” Adrian said, strolling down another staircase as he lit another cigarette. This time, he took care to make sure that this one didn’t spill ashes everywhere. “Just business.”

“But you… you killed him, didn’t you? Tai Ogata?”

“Like you said yourself, the man deserved to die. I just went through the proper channels to make it ‘official.’”

“Did you take that hit to spite me or something?” she didn’t really sound angry when she said that, just annoyed. It raised his ire ever so slightly, but not nearly enough to make him actually mad at the woman.

“Hey, it’s not like it’s any skin off your back. You already got the data to your boss, and they’ll be too focused on his death to even begin looking into a little bit of data theft. If anything, you should be thanking me.”

“Kid…”

“Kiwi, I genuinely appreciate that you’re giving my sister a chance. I also understand that your moral compass is based around your own experiences as they pertain to mercenary work. You have a different perspective to me. 

“That doesn’t mean you get to dictate to me how I’m supposed to feel about a situation. Never presume to ask me to ‘suck up my morals’ ever again. I might be a professional, and I might be practical when the situation calls for it, but I am not a pragmatist. I’m not like you. I took the hit on him because it was, in some small way, the best thing that I could do in this situation. I wasn’t content to let a monster like that roam free when I had him in my sights and I could so something about it. And I think, somewhere in that shriveled heart of yours… neither were you.”

The silence in the wake that that declaration was infinitely telling of Adrian’s point. He said his goodbyes, cut off the call and sighed as he stretched his arms above his head. He started walking towards the NCART station, satisfied that, at least on this occasion, he may have done some tangible form of good.

Adrian Walker’s Status:

LEVEL: 14 → 15

SREET CRED: 15 → 16

€$: 41235 → 46378

Stats and Skills:

BODY: 6

Athletics: Lvl 5

Annihilation: Lvl 2

Street Brawler: Lvl 6

REFLEX: 9

Assault: Lvl 3 → 4

Handguns: Lvl 6 

Blades: Lvl 3

TECH: 7

Crafting: Lvl 5

Engineering: Lvl 3

INTELLIGENCE: 3

Breach Protocol: Lvl 1

Quickhacking: Lvl 1

COOL: 9 → 10

Ninjitsu: Lvl 4 → 6

Cold Blood: Lvl 7

Notable Cyberware:

FRONTAL CORTEX: None | None | None 

OCCULAR SYSTEM: Dead-Eye Optic

CIRCULATORY SYSTEM: None | None | None

IMMUNE SYSTEM: None | None

NERVOUS SYSTEM: None | None

INTEGUMENTARY SYSTEM: None | None | None

OPERATING SYSTEM: Dead-Eye Combat Analysis Regulation & Assistance Device [Mrk 0]

SKELETON: None | None

HANDS: None

ARMS: Military Grade Arasaka Cyberarm

LEGS: None

Chapter Text

August 29th, 2075

Night City, CA.

2:45 pm PST

3 months and 3 weeks before a certain car accident.

Maya was a bit nervous as she approached the building alongside her brother. He was wearing something far more normal than she’d seen in a while, likely because he was going on another date with Rebecca in about forty five minutes. Thankfully, their date had turned out to be in the same general area of Watson that Kiwi, her prospective Netrunning mentor, lived in, so Adrian was able to drop her off in a short fashion.

“Be careful around her, okay?” he asked for the fifth time this afternoon. Maya was tempted to roll her eyes, but she didn’t knowing that he was only insisting on this out of concern. “She might be your teacher, but she’s… well, she’s not a nice woman.”

“I know,” she groaned as they stepped into the elevator. “I’m not going to let my guard down around her.”

“I just want to make sure,” Adrian said, glancing at her. “I know how you get around pretty women. Anyway, you have your piece on you?”

Maya tapped her thigh, which had a holster for her Unity strapped to it. Unlike before, she’d done herself up to make herself look presentable for the occasion. She was wearing decent grey pants with plenty of pockets in them with tennis shoes that had long served her well in running. She also had on a blue graphic t-shirt for Road Rage with the show’s logo emblazoned onto the front with a casual jacket over that. She and her brother definitely had a similar sense of style, that was for sure, though their tastes in color were enough to differentiate them.

“Also, what was that about me around pretty women?”

“I’m just saying that you have very particular tastes,” Adrian said, trying to change the subject.

“Are you calling my taste in women bad? Again?”

“Not aesthetically - I’d be a fucking idiot to try and do that. But I do think that you could… choose a different personality type?”

She gave him a look as the elevator clicked into place with an old fashioned ding, the gate in front of them sliding open as they continued forward. “What personality type?”

“Well… all of your crushes have kinda turned out to be massive bitches.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault that the worst people at our old high school happened to have impeccable fashion sense!”

“I… no, that’s a good point. Still, try not to get caught up in appearances too much, alright?”

Maya shook her head, already expecting Kiwi to be relatively normal, perhaps with some kind of extra implants that made Adrian blush under the collar a bit. Actually, she didn’t really know his taste in women - he’d never talked about it much. Though, given his current output in Rebecca, she guessed it had something to do with confidence.

The arrived at Kiwi’s door, a sliding thing with a number painted onto it, and Adrian rapped his knuckle against in a steady beat to inform Kiwi that they were at her place of residence. There was a sound of acknowledgement from within as someone grumpily made their way to the door, eventually opening it with a huff.

“Good, you’re here,” the woman said, her blonde bob cut slightly damp, as though she had just gotten out of a shower. Or an ice bath. She was also wearing nothing but a bathrobe that was loosely tied at the waist, offering an unobstructed view of her rather notable cleavage and the tattoos she was sporting, a black that contrasted to the purple of her skin. It was…

Nope, I am not about to stare at my teacher’s rack! Maya said, mentally slapping herself out of it as she tried to prepare herself. She tried to offer greeting, but felt that she failed spectacularly.

“Uh… I’m Maya. Nice to meet you?”

Kiwi just nodded, gesturing for her to come inside with a finger as she looked at Adrian. “Come pick her up at around six. You and Rebecca should be done by then, right?”

“If everything goes well, yeah,” her brother acknowledged, his mismatched eyes flicking to his sister before he continued. “You take care of her alright? You’ll have hell to pay if you don’t.”

“Already promised you, didn’t I?”

He just gave her a glare, which she didn’t respond to for several seconds before sighing in exasperation. “Fine! Don’t worry - she’s as safe as I can make her here. Jeez, you can be scary, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told,” Adrian said with a smirk. He glanced at Maya and gave her a silent wave goodbye, a nervous but hopeful smile on his face, which she returned before he walked out of sight and the door shut closed automatically.

Maya’s nerves tried to get to her as she realized for the first time that she was really alone with this Kiwi woman, much older, much more experienced, and by that measure, extremely dangerous. She closed her eyes, taking a breath as she centered herself. She was calm. Focused. She could do this.

When she opened them again, Kiwi was giving her a look that told her right away that this veteran Netrunner could see right through her. She glanced up and down, making her feel slightly self conscious before her gaze returned to her face, and then to her eyes. With a slight huff of breath, Maya met her gaze strength for strength, taken off guard but no less determined.

Moments passed as the locking of the eyes went on, the ambience of the apartment almost stifling as Maya struggled to keep up. Eventually, it got broken off, though Maya wasn’t entirely sure by who, and Kiwi gave a long, world-weary sigh. “Fucking hell, that look in your eye is the same as his. Must run in the family or something…”

Maya just shrugged in response, giving out a small quip. “I mean, our mom did tend to get this look in her eye when she was particularly mad about something, so it might be something related to that?”

Kiwi gave a chuckle as she approached, causing Maya to silently gulp as the taller woman offered her hand to shake. “I’m Kiwi, your prospective mentor for the time being. And you’re Maya, my prospective apprentice. Let’s get along so that your brother doesn’t become one of those things that go bump in the night.”

She laughed sheepishly. Surprisingly enough, it wasn’t hard to draw that image to mind. Adrian was… well, terrifying, when he was on the job. Sometimes even when he wasn’t. Though it was very jarring and hilarious to see that same person get nervous over a date with their output. It made him seem more human, she supposed.

“So, before we hop into everything that I want to get to today, I want to know where you stand in terms of general knowledge so that I can teach you appropriately,” Kiwi said as she waved a finer at Maya. “Now, what is the Net?”

This question… confused Maya. It was obvious to everyone who could afford to have a connection to it - and even to some of those who couldn’t. Still, she answered honestly and to the best of her ability. “A collective of information and interactive data that acts as a repository of knowledge and access to certain forms of communication.”

“Sure, but what else?”

“I… don’t follow,” Maya said, tilting her head in confusion. “Isn’t that really most of what the Net is?”

“Sure, at the surface,” Kiwi answered. “So, a bit of a history lesson. Long before your time, and long before mine, there was a time where the Net was singular. People from one side of the world could dive in and take a visit to the Net in Tokyo, Hong Kong or London with a snap of their fingers. It could almost be called a bit of a paradise, At least, compared to the scattered mess that is the modern Net.”

“Do you mean the Blackwall?” Maya asked, having heard about the legendary defensive mechanism that kept them safe from the rogue AIs born during the 4th Corporate War, back in the Scorchin’ Twenties. 

“Partly,” Kiwi said. “I’m more referring to the thing that caused the Blackwall to get made in the first place. Tell me… how much do you know about a man named Rache Bartmoss?”

“Not a lot,” Maya admitted, though she had heard the name in reference to the Net a few times. “He was some old Netrunner, right? Something about taking part of the Data-Krash?”

Kiwi chuckled at that, and this time it was a throaty, humorous one that honestly took her off guard. She eventually got ahold her herself, tugging her bathrobe further closed as she continued on. “Kid, Rache Bartmoss is a Netrunning legend. He didn’t just take part in the DataKrash - the man practically was the DataKrash. Created a program that cannibalized most of the Net in most of the world in a matter of months. There are only a few holdouts from that, and Night City’s one of ‘em. We have the Blackwall to thank for that, and Netwatch by extension.”

“And how’s virtually no privacy on the surface Net supposed to be any better?” Maya muttered to herself.

“For some people, it’s all they need,” Kiwi said with a shrug. “Netwatch, as a corporation, is relatively neutral in anything that doesn’t involve the Net. They can’t afford not to be, since they guarantee cybersecurity for basically every single corporation in Night City and manage the Blackwall. That neutrality is their greatest shield. Hell, before I became a proper Netrunner, I didn’t really think too highly of them. But at the same time, without them, there wouldn’t be a Net to run in Night City. It doesn’t make them good. It makes them a… necessary evil, I suppose you could call it. It’s the best term I have for them, anyway.”

Maya shrugged, not really finding any reasons to doubt the woman’s reasoning. It did make sense. Even if the idea of someone looking through her search history was weird, violating, and kind of embarrassing.

“Anyway, I should get you into some hands on work with the Net. C’mon,” Kiwi said as she walked further into her apartment. It was a large studio thing, with one wall made up entirely of windows with a lot of open space. To one side, there was an ice bath with a variety of wires set up, with another, more rudimentary one set up next to it. Maya was feeling a little bit apprehensive at this point, especially after she saw the second ice bath. What-

“Strip.”

“… huh?”

The sudden order confused Maya for several seconds as Kiwi breathed out a sigh through her mask, putting her fingers to her temples as she explained herself. “Look you’re gonna have to get used to ice baths if you want to Netrun. They’re a quick and dirty way to get in the Net and keep your body cool out here while your gear is running. There are less uncomfortable ways of doing this, but they’re all expensive.”

“… how expensive?” Maya asked, hoping that it might be somewhere in her price range.

“The average Netrunner chair costs almost fifty thousand eddies.”

“I’m fucking sorry - what?!” That was more than literally everything that Adrian had in his account right now! “That’s enough to buy a decent house!”

“Yeah, well, they work well, so they’re worth it,” Kiwi said, nonchalantly. “But I’ve personally never seen the need when a bathtub full of ice-water accomplishes basically the same thing. So, if you don’t want to get your clothes soaked down to the bone enough to give yourself hypothermia a few times over, I suggest you change out of those.”

“… uh… do I have to be nude?”

“No, but do you want to deal with a wet bra and panties? They’re gonna chafe if you don’t take them off.”

Maya sighed, wishing the high heaven that she;d piled together enough money for a Netrunner wetsuit. At least then maybe this wouldn’t be so awkward. Slowly, she turned away from Kiwi and started tearing off her clothes as quickly as possible, eager to get it over with. 

Eventually, she turned back, hands covering her breasts and sex as Kiwi gestured at the newer looking ice-bath next to her own. “C’mon, time to lose your ice-bath virginity. Get in.”

Maya looked at the tub full of ice with a skeptical and uncomfortable expression on her face, slowly raising a foot and gently lowering it towards the water. She breathed with nervousness as her toes approached, practically feeling the chill as a sharp cold nearly started running through her body.

Taking a deep breath, she wrestled her fear into submission and too the plunge, first once foot, then the other, and then her whole body. It was the absolute worst. The cold water crept into places she didn’t even know water could go, practically stabbing her with blades of ice that didn’t exist and holy fuck, she didn’t think she could be this goddamn uncomfortable, but she was and it was hell.

“F-f-f-fuuuuuuck,” was all she managed to intone, the chill evident in her voice.

“Yeah, first time in an ice-bath’s always the worst,” Kiwi said, sympathizing with her discomfort as she took a wire and connected it to one of her ports. “Anyway, I’m gonna be taking you inside my data-fortress. Well, it’s more like a data-room more than anything else, but it should be more than enough to teach you the ropes of everything. I’ll be with you in a minute. Try not to break anything while I’m out here, alright?”

As Kiwi spoke, the surroundings began to stretch and distort, like everything was becoming pixelated in real time. It was a jarring sensation as she fell into it, letting the data carry her down. Down into the ice. Down into the dark. Down into the rabbit hole. Down. Down. Down.

Into the Net.

August 29th, 2075

The Net

2:51 pm PST.

3 months and 3 weeks before a certain car accident

The first thing that Maya felt was disorientation. A sense that she was somewhere, but also not there at the same time. It was strange, the idea that she was floating and standing at the same time, like she was standing at the bottom of a very deep pool. 

She moved her head. Or what felt like her head. Maya knew that she had a body - she wouldn’t have had a heard if there was no body to be attached to - and looked at herself for a good minute. She felt like she was as nude as her real self was back up top, but also… her skin was completely opaque, like there was no modesty to cover. Only the suggestion of her feminine features rather than the real thing.

“This… feels weird,” she said, noticing that her voice was strangely hollow, echoing off of everything in sight, including through her own body. She looked around, trying to find something to reference and give her some form of comfort or familiarity. The place she was in was relatively small, but larger than the apartment she’d just been in for sure. It was wide and cavernous, with various pieces of code strung up on the walls like they were massive blackboards in a classroom. She eyed them eagerly, trying to move closer to them and get a better look.

That was when she realized that she wasn’t actually walking, but floating, her form snapping into place once she was in front of all the code. 

“Oh. Huh. That’s, uh… that’s disorienting.”

“Isn’t it just?”

Maya tried to turn around to confront the voice, but found it a little harder than she’d expected. She tried focusing in that same way she had when she’d snapped over to this board, and she turned. Slightly abruptly, but it did the trick.

Kiwi was floating there, bob of blonde hair and face mask visible even in cyberspace. She wasn’t entirely certain how to describe her. Like a woman made mostly of indistinguishable light. Which, she supposed, described her as well, but it was stranger seeing it from the outside. 

“Uh… hi,” she said, waving to her mentor as she floated there like some kind of witch. Or a transcendent monk. No, no - the witch metaphor worked better. She had a spiderweb tattoo on her chest. 

“Hello there, student,” she said, gesturing out with her arms in a somewhat halfhearted display. “Welcome to my data fortress. Any questions so far?”

“… why is it do empty?” Maya asked, looking around at the nearly barren room. “It doesn’t really look all that comfortable.”

“Because it’s not supposed to be,” Kiwi said. “This isn’t a place I go to relax. I have my apartment for that. This is where I go to work. Where I’m supposed to figure shit out, crack codes and get things done. I don’t spend all my time in the Net, like some runners do, and neither should you.”

“Why?” Maya asked reflexively.

“That’s an easy one, kid,” Kiwi said, and her visible features moved in such a way that Maya almost thought her mentor was smiling. Though whether it was genuine of pitying wasn’t something she could tell. “Because as amazing and dangerous as this place is, it’s not reality. You have a real body and a real life outside of this place, and forgetting that for this is no real substitute. Especially these days.”

Maya shrugged. It wasn’t like she’d dived into the deeper Net before. Still, she supposed that she could see why someone would get caught up in the spectacle of all of this. It felt so real, but at the same time so malleable. Like you could take up a chunk of the ground in your hands and shape it into a spear without a problem.

“So… what are we doing here? What’s my first lesson?”

“Well, it was going to be navigation, but you seem to have figured that out pretty quickly,” Kiwi noted with a raised brow. “Not the first time I’ve seen it happen, but twice is a bit unusual. Can you tell me what the key to it is?”

“… thought?”

“Right track, wrong place. Think harder.”

Maya did, trying to remember what it had felt like when she had moved from her position in the center of the room over to the blackboard walls. It was like she had wanted to go there, and her body just followed that line of logic.

“… intent?”

“Yes,” Kiwi said with a snap of her fingers. “Eventually, it’ll become second nature for you, and you won’t even have to think about it. Now, normally I’d have you move around as much as possible until you get used to everything, but I think you’ve got the ropes of it for now. So, let’s move on to something a bit more… fun.”

She reached a hand out to one of the walls, highlighting a strange section of code that seemed to lift from the wall, though the text itself seemed to have only been copied rather than taken wholesale. She twisted it around with a flick of her finger, putting things together in a fashion that was simultaneously strange and wondrous, like she was building something in the air without a single iota of physical effort.

I guess that witch metaphor really isn’t so inaccurate, huh?

She continued to watch as Kiwi’s code condensed into it’s final form. It was something odd, floating above her hand. A simple symbol for a stylized lightning bolt, sparking with what looked like real electricity. Kiwi turned to her apprentice and gestured to what she had just created, beginning to explain herself. 

“This is a quickhack. Specifically, the Short Circuit quickhack. It’s one of the more common ones, and can be damned useful when you’re put in a tough spot. There are plenty of defenses against it when you’re dealing with other Netrunners, but it’s a perfect distraction for your average mook so that you can shoot them in the head, or employ any number of complimentary quickhacks. But I think this’ll be a good starting project for you, especially since your cyberdeck doesn’t have a whole lot of RAM.”

Maya looked at that bolt of lightning cautiously. It was a lot of trust she was putting in this woman that she barely knew, and she had a feeling that touching this thing would definitely not be remotely pleasant. Still, she tried to steel her nerves as she gestured for the quickhack itself. Kiwi, noting her determined look, handed it over without any fuss.

And then, it was in her hand. Floating over her palm like some kind of spell. It was strange. She could almost feel the code - touch it even. She had a feeling that she could pull this thing apart, undo what Kiwi had done and see exactly what made it tick.

“I know that look,” Kiwi said with a shake of her head. “Go ahead - but don’t mess with it any. We want to actually use this thing, remember?”

Maya nodded, and tried to do something similar to what kiwi had done to compile it into a lightning bolt in the first place. It didn’t work. She frowned as she looked the thing over, trying to find some way to pull it apart and see what was inside. She pinched the bolt at one of it’s sharp edges, then pinched the other between two of her fingers as she tried to pull it apart like a piece of taffy.

Surprisingly enough, this actually worked, splitting the thing into it’s different component and commands as Maya marveled at it. She had little experience with such code, but she had been tinkering around at a surface level with her own cyberdeck, so she recognized most of what she saw. She then twisted her own hand, looking at the code from a different angle and seeing how exactly it interacted with cyberware, which systems it set off, how it could even effect ‘ganic limbs to a certain extent. 

“Damn… this is so fucking Nova…” she whispered to herself as she continued to examine Kiwi’s work. She then clapped her hands together, bringing the quickhack back to it’s proper form as she held the metaphorical lightning bolt over her palm like a sorceress ready to unleash a spell upon an unsuspecting opponent. 

“Well, I know that look too,” Kiwi said, a delightful tone in her voice as she waved her hand towards a part of the floor, calling up a featureless dummy to stand at attention. “You’re eager for some target practice, aren’t ya?”

Maya nodded eagerly, and Kiwi gestured to the mannequin looking target that she’d called from out of the floor. “Well, go on then. Use it.”

Maya tried to sweep her hand forward, trying to unleash the quickhack in her hand like a spell from one of her brother’s old fantasy video games… and nothing happened. Kiwi chuckled at her struggle while the young woman just blushed, remembering that quickhacks, despite their appearances in cyberspace, weren’t spells in the traditional sense. They were quick lines of code that could severely screw with enemy cyberware, and could often be crucial to winning encounters, especially when other Netrunners were involved. 

She breathed, not trying to use the quickhack like a spell, but as it was intended: a quickhack. She found the code at the edges of her cyberdeck. Not quite slotted into it, but able to be run through it all the same. She breathed, letting the code activate as she designated her target for the quickhack, and unleashed it.

A spark flew from where the mannequin’s eyes should have been, it’s hands miming coming up to try and rub away the pain. Maya almost cheered at how easy it had been to just… do that! It was like the instinct had always been a part of her, but she’d never had a real chance to utilize it before. But now…

“You took to that well,” Kiwi said, neutral in her tone as she slipped fully into her role as teacher. “But I think you can do better. What strategies can you use to take full advantage of this situation you’ve created?”

From there, it was hours on hours of quickhack practice, with Maya learning the rudimentary basics on how to code them in addition to her own minor experiences and Kiwi’s expertise as an offensive hacker. They went through all of the basic quickhacks that she could utilize, all of them forming into some kind of simple symbol to remind Maya exactly what they were and what they were supposed to do. It wasn’t complicated, but it was intense, and though Maya’s brain was fuzzy with tired adrenaline by the end of the training session, Maya could admit to herself that, for the first time in a while, she’d really had fun.

It was nice to just.. do something like this. Even if it was just an escape. This place, this room that she stood in… it was peaceful. Nice and safe. Or as safe as Kiwi could make it. Maya noticed a bit of stray code at the corner of the structure, pointing it out to her mentor. “Do you usually get leaks like that?”

“Hm?” she asked, glancing in the direction that she was pointing before she sighed. “Sorry about that, kid. Defensive coding isn’t really my forte, as you can see by my, uh… horde of quickhacks. Anyway, don’t worry yourself about it - I’ll take care of it once-”

But Maya was already there, sealing it up with a simple motion, like she was pulling up a zipper on a jacket or trailing her finger down a line in pavement. And with that motion, the code that had been strangely leaking into the room disappeared like a flow had suddenly been shut off. There was no trace that there had even been a hole there.

“Kid…? What did you just do?”

“i sealed it up with a few bypasses that led into a feedback loop. Now that probe will just be going in circles until it’s handler eventually decides that enough is enough and just gives up!”

Her cheery disposition didn’t seem to make Kiwi any more comfortable, but the woman sighed as she gestured towards her apprentice. “Well, I’ll be checking what you’ve already done, but it seems like the leak has already gotten plugged up real nice. Good work. Anyway, feel free to disconnect. And get out of the ice bath ASAP, or you’re gonna be uncomfortable as all hell.”

“… uh… how do I do that?”

“Simple, really,” Kiwi said. “Same way you move around in this place. Intent.”

Maya nodded, taking her mentor’s words to heart as she closed her eyes breathing without breathing as she sent out her wish to surface back into her own body. And with a lurch and a gasp, she did just that.

August 29th, 2075

Night City, CA.

6:23 pm PST.

3 months and 3 weeks before a certain car accident.

Maya awoke with a gasp, immediately feeling the temperature of the the ice bat that she was in. Many of the crystalline cubes had melted since she’d entered, and the water seemed to feel just a touch warmer than it had when she’d entered it, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t still cold as balls. She practically rolled out of the tub, spilling trials of water onto the floor as she tried to catch her breath and get herself reoriented.

Shivering the young woman started rubbing at her own naked skin, feeling gooseflesh along her arms as she started to warm herself up with the friction of skin on skin contact. It was slow going, trying to get feeling back into those parts of her body that felt numb, but it was working, slowly bu surely. 

A while later, she wasn’t sure how long, Kiwi stepped out of her own ice bath, totally unphased by the nudity, as though she had seen such sights a thousand times and would likely see it a thousand more. She brought over a large, fluffy towel and draped it over Maya, bringing her to her feet as she brought her to a chair. 

“You want coffee or something?” she asked, her own fluffy towel straining slightly against her curvy figure. Maybe it was because of the fact that she’d just gotten out of an ice bath for the first time, or maybe it was because she was just too damn tired to hold back her intrusive thoughts anymore, but she sorta just… stared blankly at Kiwi for a few seconds, half in awe at the woman’s casualness with the low temperature and half in awe at just how attractive she actually was.

Maya shook her head to clear herself of those thoughts, nodding firmly to the woman. “Coffee sounds great.”

“Well, I hope you like it black. I don’t have any of that sweetener crap that some people like to put in it,” Kiwi said as she walked over to her kitchen, gradually taking all of the steps to make a half full pot of coffee. It took a few minutes, but eventually, Maya had a steaming cup of joe in her hand, it’s surface as dark and mysterious as it had ever been when she’d Adrian occasionally have a cup. It was strange, seeing her brother do something so mundane. Especially given…

Well, we’re not heroes. That bastard’s going to die. It doesn’t much matter how it happens, as long as it’s us.

Kiwi seemed to notice the expression on her apprentice’s face, raising a brow in question it. Maya just sipped at the coffee that she’d been offered, and quickly found that there was an odd flavor beneath the typical taste of coffee. It was strangely fruity. She thought that wasn’t a word that would be associated with something like coffee, but that was the word that came to mind. Fruity, with a rich aftertaste that was actually somewhat pleasant. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” Kiwi asked. “How did your prospective mentor do today?”

“You’re asking my opinion?” Maya questioned back, confused. “Shouldn’t I be asking you how I did?”

“Hey, I had far lower expectations of you than you did of me. I was expecting to teach a rookie, not another prodigy. Granted, you’re still mostly a rookie, but what you did with that hole… man, I dunno.”

“What do you mean?” Maya asked, seemingly confused. She had just see a problem and the best solution to it, so she’d employed that solution with as much delicacy as she could, so that she didn’t mess with Kiwi’s code too much. 

“Kid, that probe is still in there, in an infinite feedback loop that is can’t get out of unless it turns back,” Kiwi said with a slightly exasperated breath. “I mean, I’m barely half-decent at defensive coding, but you just casually came in and made my hard-forged defenses even better with a flick of your finger.”

“Uh… are you mad?” Maya asked, fidgeting as she tried to pull her fluffy towel closer to herself. It was smaller on her than it was on Kiwi.

“What? Fuck no - I want you to keep doing what you were doing.”

.

..

…

“… what?”

The confused, single word question came out of Maya’s mouth unbidden, and caused Kiwi to look at her a bit strangely. Then the purple Netrunner continued. “Look kid, you’re clearly good with code. Only took you a little while to figure out how all the basic quickhacks work and how to utilize ‘em. This? This is a lot more complicated than that, and you literally solved a consistent problem I’ve been having for the last few months with a metaphorical wave of your finger. It think it’s safe to assume that you’ve got some talent for it.”

“I… uh…” Maya was conflicted. On the one hand, she apparently had a talent for something that her mentor struggled with. That did give her a bit of a confidence boost. However, she also remembered her brother’s consistent warnings about the woman. That she was dangerous, and that she was a pragmatist more than anything else. It wouldn’t do for her to develop any kind of genuine attachment. And yet…

“As long as I don’t break anything, I guess I could help you out with your data fortress,” she conceded, though she continued shortly thereafter. “But I wanna learn everything I can about quickhacks, and how to code some of my own properly.”

“Yeah, that sounds fair,” Kiwi said with a nod. “Honestly, I was gonna set you up with some basic ones anyway, but learning how to make your own will be a lot more valuable in the long run. So, are there any that jumped out at you during practice? Your cyberdeck is solid, but it’s RAM is shit and you don’t have a whole lot of storage for quickhacks.”

“Yeah, they cal it ‘solid beginner tier shit’ or something.”

“That a mouthful, but not inaccurate. Also, as soon as you can, try to set up your own little data fortress. Just a place where you can be along and work on shit. Trust me, you’re going to need it.

“Also, get an ice bath. They might be more uncomfortable than chairs by a wide margin, but they’re a whole lot less expensive. Maybe invest in a wetsuit too, if the temperature gets to be too much for you. It should help out a lot.”

Maya nodded as she and Kiwi went over the specifics of Netrunning until Adrian came to pick her up. Despite her apprehension, the day had been fruitful. And something about Kiwi’s suggestion made her wonder… exactly how hard was it to set up a data fortress? And why did her mentor believe that she would be able to do it so easily?

Chapter Text

September 2nd, 2075

Night City, CA.

11:52 pm PST.

3 months and 3 weeks before a certain car accident.

Adrian was feeling good. That had a lot to do with the pretty woman whom he was walking arm-in-arm with at the moment, and the smile on her face as both ate takoyaki with their free hands. It was a surprisingly easy thing to find in the midst of Japantown, where the date had started. Unlike the last time, they were both wearing their typical Edgerunning clothes, mainly due to the fact that Rebecca had finished up a smaller gig with her crew just earlier that day. Nothing fancy, just enough to keep the lights on and keep the fridge stocked. 

“I’m a little surprised that Maine hasn’t made another offer,” Adrian said as he bit into another of the fried spheres. It was really fucking good. “Or at least talked to me or something.”

“He’s only met you once, babe,” Rebecca said as she too bit into another ball of takoyaki, giving out a little squeak of enjoyment that made Adrian smile before she continued. “Sure, you come with the not so insignificant fact that I approve of you and am dating you, but he prefers to see people in action before he extends that kind of offer to ‘em.”

“Like a test run?” Adrian asked, recalling M’s opinions on such things. They were not at all positive.

“Yeah. Most of the time it kinda ends up with people getting killed because they were unprepared, and if that doesn’t happen he tends to usually find them lacking. We’re kinda lucky our crew doesn’t exactly receive a lot of hopefuls. We’re relatively mid-tier, in terms of mercs. Our actual position’s unlikely to be threatened, but there’s steep competition with other crews all the same.”

“Don’t pull a gun in a bar fight?”

“… eh, kinda?” Rebecca said, moving her hand slightly as though to emphasize her doubts on that front. “It’s a little hard to make that kind of analogy, since a lot of the bar fights I’ve seen tend to end with someone getting shot?”

“Were you the one shooting or the one getting shot?” Adrian asked, an amused smirk on his lips.

“Yes,” Rebecca answered as she tore the half-eaten piece of takoyaki from it’s stick, giving out yet another one of those cute little squeaks. “This is so good! Damn, wish I went to Japantown more often.”

“I mean, you’ve got a perfectly good reason right here on your arm,” Adrian said as he leaned in with a teasing smirk. The insinuation made her blush slightly as she tapped his cheek lightly with her takoyaki stick. 

“Quiet, dearest input of mine,” she said with a smirk of her own. “You’re making sense.”

“Aw…” Adrian said with an exaggerated pout. Rebecca just leaned further into him, bringing his arm closer to her side as their fingers properly intertwined, her own of flesh and blood while his remained cybernetic, though he could feel her gentle fingers throughout the arm, the callouses reminding him that Rebecca was a hard worker and a damned good fighter. It was part of what he liked about her. 

The two were walking through the streets of Watson now, specifically through Little China and all the shops and nooks therein. It wasn’t a completely peaceful day, as Adrian had hoped, but he really should’ve known better at this point. There had been not one, but two high-speed chases that had taken them by surprise, both the cops and the criminals unloading lead into each other as they sped past, and there had been at least one street fight that had broken out in broad daylight with no one batting an eye.

Good ol’ Watson. Damn, can’t believe I was so… desensitized to all of this. Didn’t even notice most of it after a while.

He knew that was just how Night City worked, though. Especially now. It had been different, back when his mom had been alive. He’d felt safe, felt like there really had been a chance to hope, that they could overcome whatever life threw at them. 

“Hey,” Rebecca said, pulling Adrian out of the depths of his own thoughts with a slight squeeze of the hand a concerned look on her face. “You okay, babe?”

“Yeah, yeah - sorry for worrying you,” Adrian said, smiling reassuringly at her. Or at least that was what he hoped. She had a knack for seeing right through him. She let it be though, and the two continued on their walk through Watson as though little had happened that day. Which, he supposed, was accurate for them. 

Eventually, the two of them came up to a store - an odd store that was a bit out of place, next to a few restaurants rather than any related placed, like clothes stores or boutiques where you could get reinforced suits. It was sleek, but well used, showing a few years of wear and tear. The firearms in the window clearly marked the place as a gun store, as did the reinforced glass. There was a certain logo above it, all in white neon, with a square of four dots quickly followed by a single word that sent a shiver through Adrian.

MALORIAN.

“Holy fucking shit…” Rebecca said, her eyes flicking through the display of guns as she gradually got more and more excited. “Holy fucking shit! I didn’t know Malorian had a shop open in Little China!”

“Neither did I,” Adrian said. It felt weird that he was only noticing a sight like this now. He thought he’d have made note of it. Then again, he’d never felt much need to actually come to this part of Little China, especially since his family lived on the southernmost edge of Northside. 

“Wanna go inside and do some window shopping?” Rebecca asked. Adrian could practically see the stars in her eyes, and knew that trying to say no to her at that point was a losing battle. He could never say no to the puppy dog eyes she employed. 

“Yeah,” Adrian said, smiling after a moment. “Gotta admit, I’m curious to see what models they’ve got in stock.”

Rebecca practically beamed as she dragged Adrian into the store, the young merc smiling all the while as they entered the place. Still, it wasn’t just to look at all of the guns they had, though that was definitely on the table as well. If he could maybe grab an Overture to mod, he would be happy to fork over some eddies. But another reason that he was accompanying Rebecca was to maybe find a solution to an imminent problem of his: the ammo for Calamity. It’s model of gun, the Malorian Arms 3516, utilized a very specific kind of ammunition that wasn’t sold in most gun stores, and the ones that did sell it did so at a fairly high mark-up, since most people with those guns were corpos who would think nothing of that kind of price. 

He had a steady supply of that ammo due to his apprenticeship to M, but eventually, the two would go their separate ways. Not any time soon, but eventually, the day would come where Adrian really would be on his own. With that day, it’d be inevitable that the ammo supply would go with M. Adrian needed to find his own supplier before that day came. And, well… what better way to find leads on that then an actual Malorian gun store?

The place was impeccably clean, with barely a hint of dust anywhere in the strange, gunmetal colored interior of the place. Firearms of all kinds hung on racks behind tempered glass, reinforced against all manner of harm. From long arms to SMGs to even a few other handguns, Adrian was quite honestly tempted to start drooling over the sheer perfection in all of them. 

Rebecca was clearly just as enthusiastic as he was, not bothering to wait for him and instead going over to the display for the Vindicator Grenade Launcher, one of their models from the Scorchin’ Twenties that had been fairly popular at the time despite it’s relatively low ammo capacity. Though, Adrian had to admit that the thirty millimeter ammo was very effective at doing it’s job. And damn heavy to boot. If there was one thing you could say about Malorian, it was that their firearms were always reliable.

Adrian himself walked over to the other side of the place, keeping an eye on his output, but also perusing the selection of automatic weapons. The Sub-Flechette Gun and M-12 Beretta were both on display, the former looking as though it could be wielded with one hand despite the fact that Adrian knew that it required two to be wielded safely, the other slightly longer with a foregrip and a much more visible magazine. 

Adrian looked over to Rebecca to see his output cooing over the grenade launcher, and he debated buying it. It was… well, expensive. All Malorian brand weapons were. The only thing that was touted even more than Malorian’s reliability was how expensive their weapons were. Still, Adrian would gladly pay good money for a reliable firearm. It did cost almost three thousand eddies though, which damn need made him hiss through his teeth. But seeing that look in Rebecca’s eyes, how happy she seemed imagining herself with that gun, he couldn’t help himself. 

“Do you want me to get that for you?” he asked, not wanting to presume on her behalf. Rebecca wasn’t short of cash, not by a long shot, but he knew that she was often hesitant about big purchases. It had apparently taken her almost a year to get together the eddies, and the courage, to buy her prized Thorton truck. 

“No, no - I can afford it,” Rebecca said, smiling up at him. “Thanks for the thought though. Anything you want to get?”

“Nothing quite so expensive as what you want,” Adrian pointed out. “But thanks for asking.”

Rebecca gave a cute sound as she hugged him suddenly. Adrian was slightly confused by the physical contact, but quickly returned the embrace, the two disentangling for a few seconds as Rebecca approached the counter. 

Huh. Wonder what that was about?

Adrian shook it off, approaching behind his output as she started talking to the man behind the counter in regards to the Vindicator that she wanted to purchase. The man himself seemed in his early to mid forties, with sun-kissed brown skin and a stocky build that suggested many hours in the workshop. He wore largely neutral colors that didn’t go against the theme of the shop, a grey shirt and dark pants that complimented his dark hair and eyes well enough. The shirt had the company logo on it, though Adrian couldn’t recall whether or not Malorian actually sold graphic tees like what this man was wearing. If they did, he kinda wanted one. They made damned good guns.

“Well, I can clearly see that you’re interested, but the Vindicator has a fairly intensive recoil. You’re certain you can handle it?” The man asked with a somewhat concerned look on his face as he took in Rebecca’s five feet of total height and her overall petite frame.

“I have some ideas about that, so this purchase it more preemptive than anything else,” Rebecca said with a smirk. The man raised a brow at that, clearly somewhat skeptical about that prospect, but sighed as he relented in his efforts.

“Well, as long as you’re certain. That’ll be three thousand.”

Rebecca’s eyes lit up along with the man’s with artificial light, exchanging eddies digitally. She smiled at the man as the purchase completed and he went around behind the counter, pulling up a case out from behind the counter and sliding it across the table. 

“Thanks for your patronage,” the man said in a voice that seemed grateful, but tired. Adrian couldn’t really blame him. Despite the fact that Malorian Arms as a company had been around since the Scorchin’ Twenties, they hadn’t been doing nearly as well in modern times, not developing any new models in several years. Their simple stance on it was as simple as ‘if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it,’ which Adrian appreciated, even as an amateur gunsmith. There was a good reason that Calamity was the only weapon he possessed that he didn’t feel the need to modify. Other than the fact that it really didn’t need to be; it was a perfect weapon in almost every way that mattered. 

The man behind the counter turned to face Adrian, asking him, “What can I help you with?”

The tone seemed a little more tired than before, but Adrian could see that the man was eager to make another sale today. So, with as much enthusiasm as he could manage, the young merc asked, “Could I get a pair of Overtures? Preferably ones that eject the cylinders in opposite directions.”

The man raised a brow at that request, as though in sudden interest. “You lookin’ to dual wield?”

“I am, actually. Never had much of a chance, before.” Well, he had, but the only small arms that could dual wield with were Reckoning and Calamity. The former was fine, while the latter would draw far too much attention.

“You trained or born ambidextrous? Because unless you’re either, I can’t say that I recommend the prospect of dual wielding.”

“Trained,” Adrian answered as Rebecca continued to coo over her new gun in the background. “That was one of the first things my mentor taught me. I still prefer my right to my left, but I can use my nondominant hand just as well when I need to.”

The man just nodded, dark hair waving slightly with the motion as he went out of sight again, this time coming back to two cases of the same size. “That’ll be a thousand five hundred for both of ‘em.”

Adrian gave a low whistle at the price. He wouldn’t try to lower it; there was no point when it came to Malorian weapons. Instead, he just started the transfer, which the man gladly accepted, and the eddies were handed over without issue. 

“Hm,” the man said, his eye flicking over to Adrian’s right hip, where Reckoning rested in it’s holster. “A Liberty man, huh? Can’t say I blame you; it’s a lot better than the mileage you can get out of a Unity.”

Adrian nodded with an exasperated sigh. “Yeah, you can trust Unity’s to be relatively mid-tier and not much else. Had one for a while. Never used it for real, but I practiced with it well enough.”

The man nodded, looking back at Reckoning with a look of genuine curiosity. “Looks modified. Who did that for you?”

“Oh, no one; I modded it myself.”

The raised brow definitely indicated some kind of interest, if that light in his eyes hadn’t done so already. “Mind if I see it? Looks like good work.”

Adrian looked at the man a bit skeptically, and the man realized that he may have overstepped, giving a self-derisive chuckle as he scratched at the back of his head. “Sorry, sorry. Just never seen a whole lot of Solo-looking types who claim to have modified their own firearms. I guess it’s especially rude since I don’t even know your name, or you mine.”

“We can change that pretty quick,” Adrian said, offering his hand for the man to shake in greeting. “Name’s Adrian. And you are?”

“… Samuel,” the man replied, taking the proffered hand and shaping it firmly, the callouses there suggesting years of work with physical technology. “Pleasure to meet you properly.”

Adrian nodded, sharing the sentiment before he pulled Reckoning out by it’s barrel, taking the magazine out of the magwell before pulling back the slide to release the one in the chamber, placing it on the counter between them. Samuel picked up the gun then, with delicate, gentle motions, examining it from each angle as he gave running commentary on the major modifications that he saw. “Hmm… flared magwell is good for keeping track without having to look while you reload, though some people tend to complain that it’s bulky. The muzzle here is also wider than the average. You chambered this thing for a higher caliber of bullet, but that also reduced the total ammo capacity that you would be able to hold in the mags altogether. This thing can hit harder, but less often.”

“Yeah. I mainly did that to make up for the old ammo-type’s relative lack of power,” Adrian said with another nod. “I’m fairly confident in my accuracy, so I was glad to make the change.”

“Mm,” Samuel said as he slid Reckoning back across the counter, where Adrian quickly reloaded it and slid it back into his holster. “You do seem like a good shot.”

Adrian raised a brow at that. “How could you tell?”

“It’s the way you stand,” Samuel said. “There’s a fairly consistent way that you hold yourself, hand always near your weapon at all times, but never close enough to draw attention unless people really know what to look for. Just in case, I’m guessing.”

Adrian worried slightly at his lip, noting that even now, standing casually as he was, his cyberarm was more than ready to fling aside the flap of his red hawk jacket to pull Reckoning out at a moment’s notice. Or, if the situation called for it, Calamity holstered at his back. He tried to relax that part of his posture, but the moment he stopped focusing on it, his hand just went right back to where it had been before out of sheer habit.

Samuel just chuckled at his efforts, Rebecca looking back at their conversation briefly before she continued perusing the selection of high-quality firearms. “It’s not a bad thing, having that kind of subtle readiness. As I’m sure you can imagine, I’ve seen many a customer come through here over the years. Never as many as other, more popular joints like the 2nd Amendment chain, but enough that I’ve seen a pretty large variety of gunslingers.”

“Well, uh… thanks, I guess?” Adrian asked, a little confused by the man’s comment.

“You’re welcome,” Samuel said with another chuckle, looking down at the two cases on the table with a slight frown on his face. “How’ll you be modifying them? I wouldn’t recommend trying to change the caliber on this particular piece - it was made to specifically handle forty two caliber bullets.”

“Well, nothing like that,” Adrian said. “The higher caliber is generally what distinguishes revolvers from pistols, especially nowadays. I’m not looking to take away it’s power, but I do want to up it’s speed.”

“That sounds reasonable, but how would you do that without making the cylinder too loose to actually move properly?”

“Well, I had some thoughts about that, actually…”

“… Adrian?”

“Yes?”

“You know I like you right?”

“You’ve made it fairly obvious by now, Becca.”

“Good. And you know that I love my guns, right? In addition to guns in general?”

“You have made this also very clear to me.”

“Good. So… why are we at the range with this Samuel guy then instead of just the two of us?”

Rebecca was currently taking residence on Adrian’s lap as punishment for the transgression of allowing Samuel to convince him of testing. At the time, it has seemed entirely reasonable, at least in Adrian’s head; who better to suggest how to modify an Overture than an actual employee of Malorian Arms who seemed to know what they were doing? Of course, after his output had started to pout so obviously during the first several minutes of the walk the range, Adrian quickly realized that he may have messed up and not even realized it in the moment.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, brushing his cheek against hers in way that made her tangible slacken the tension in her shoulders. “Wasn’t thinking much at the time. It was stupid. Should’ve done this when we weren’t in the middle of a date.”

“It’s… well, I won’t say it’s completely okay, but as screw-ups go, this one was fairly benign,” she said, turning her face to peck him on the cheek. “You’re still learning about how this all works. I am too. But next time, maybe schedule something like this for later instead of just agreeing to do it on an impulse?”

“I will,” he promised, nuzzling into her neck and eliciting a pleased chuckle from her lips. “Sorry for being an idiot.”

“Hey, like I said, it could’ve been worse. At least this date was a casual one,” Rebecca said. “Besides, I am a little eager to see what you did to those Overtures.”

“You just wanna watch me shoot, don’t you?” Adrian asked with a knowing smile. 

“In fairness, you look really good while you do it.”

“I could say the same about you.”

The two looked at each other for a moment, smiling serenely before the both leaned forward, lips meeting in a chaste expression of affection. Adrian’s hands tightened around Rebecca’s waist, and the ex-Mox shimmied herself closer to his chest, the contours of her back feeling nearly flush with his torso as she continued the liplock without a care in the world.

Adrian almost didn’t hear someone clearing their throat, and was going to break the kiss when Rebecca tugged at his shirt, stopping him while she made a gesture towards the one who made that sound. At least, that was what he thought she had done. An audible sigh later, she pressed her lips firmer onto his own, clearly tempted to shift herself fully to face him and make it more intense.

Eventually, though, she broke away, the flush on her cheeks nearly nonexistent compared to the smile on her face. “Takoyaki tastes good on you. Compliments your normal flavor quite well.”

Adrian’s own cheeks flushed at the flirty remark, the short woman laughing a bit before she got off his lap. “Go on. Test them out. And, uh… maybe look good, for me?”

Adrian raised a brow as he rose from his seat against the wall. “Actually, you never clarified that - how do I look good while I’m shooting?”

“It’s mostly about the stance and… and uh…” Rebecca’s cheeks flushed redder as she tried to explain, shaking herself to rid her cheeks of color. “Nevermind that! Just… you don’t have to try to do it. You’ve always looked good to me when you’re shooting at something.”

Adrian blushed in turn before he walked over to the partition, where Samuel was waiting with a raised brow and a wry smirk. “Sorry to impose. Should’ve known better than to ask this of you when you were clearly on a date, in hindsight.”

“Hey man, I’m mostly to blame,” Adrian said. “We probably should’ve scheduled this for later.”

“Well, that ship has sailed,” Samuel said. “Anyway, we might as well see how these things work, now that you've modified them.”

Adrian nodded, taking the first of the Overtures in his hand. He had yet to color either of the weapons as he’d have liked, but their functionality was done exactly to his specifications. The cylinder rotation had been upped massively without compromising their internal integrity, allowing him to, in theory, fire both of the revolvers like they were regular pistols. Almost, anyway. In terms of speed, Reckoning was likely to come out on top, given the fact that it was a semi-auto pistol and all, but Adrian could still find a use for these regardless. Besides, he’d always wanted revolvers. He still had a certain image of cowboys from old westerns that his parents had him watch as a kid. He knew that they weren’t remotely accurate to actual history, and some were downright problematic, but the spectacle of it all really spoke to him as a child. 

He aimed down the sights, breathing steadily as the target descended, the dark outline filled with indicators for points and various body parts. Adrian decided that, for the moment, his main priority wasn’t accuracy, but a test of speed, to see if the cylinders were as fast as he hoped they were.

He pulled the trigger as the magnum gave a loud, booming BLAM, kicking back his hand as the first shot met it’s mark, right dead center in the head. Not one to be caught up in his victories, Adrian quickly moved on to the next shot, and the next and the next. In a little less than three seconds, the young merc had totally emptied the gun and landed each and every one of his shots with varying degrees of accuracy, though they had all hit some part of the outlined target. As it came forward to highlight those accomplishments, he saw that he had hit the head twice, one of the shoulders, the collarbone, the stomach, and somewhere that definitely amounted to the groin.

“Hm,” Samuel said, rubbing at his chin with a pair of fingers. “Well, the speed’s definitely on point, but that won’t do much if you don’t have the accuracy to hit your proper target. These all hit, but only the first one was a guaranteed kill.”

“Hey, I was testing the speed,” Adrian countered as he popped the cylinder out of it’s hold, letting the casings drop to the floor as he pulled a speed loader from the side, reloading the gun before he put it to the side. “I’m gonna be doing the same for the left one too; speed over accuracy in this case and this case only.”

“If that’s what we’re going for,” Samuel said. “And at least you actually hit the target. I’ve seen many worse shots than you in my day.”

“Huh. And I wasn’t even trying.”

“Willing to put money on that?”

Adrian just smirked. “What’s the bet?”

Samuel paused, looking up for a moment as he thought on a suitable wager. He raised a single finger, and idea clearly coming to him as he looked back at Adrian with a smile on his face. “Fifty eddies on you not getting at least three headshots this round.”

“Really? Just three?”

“Hey, I’ve got to give at least a bit of a fighting chance, don’t I?”

Adrian gave him a look, which Samuel met with a big, irreverent smile. Sighing, Adrian twirled his left handed Overture and prepared to start firing at the target on his mark. He breathed, the motion calming as he brought the gun in line with his eye, aiming down the sights while his body remained placid like a lake’s surface. Or taut like a bowstring. It was hard to tell, from the outside.

The series of gunshots rang out once more from a revolver, these shots more carefully aimed even if his goal this time was still speed over accuracy. Despite this little fact, Adrian did his damndest to group the shots close to the head of the silhouette that was serving as his target. Before long, all six shots had gone out, and the young merc flicked the cylinder out as he unloaded all of the bullets, sighing as he realized that he’d already lost the bet. Though a pair of shots had gotten the target in the head, one of them had actually gone through the neck instead of his intended target. A good shot, and one that would most likely kill, but a miss nonetheless. The others had been made along the shoulders and collarbone areas, thoroughly damaged and taken through with enough damage that a ‘ganic who suffered the same shots would likely die. So would most people without Subdermal Armor, not that he thought about it.

I should really think about getting some, Adrian noted, thinking back to the cyberpsycho with the axe back in Heywood, Marcos. He was still unsure on the exact nature of cyberpsychosis as a mental disorder, but after hearing the man’s story; an unfortunately common one, as he’d learned in recent days, he was a lot more interested in the topic. Especially if Regina was going to be tapping him to bring in more living patients. 

“Well, that’s a darn shame,” Samuel said, trying and failing to hide the smirk on his face while making a beckoning motion to Adrian, to make good on their deal. “C’mon, pay up.”

Adrian was about to do just that when he had another idea. Turning fully to the man, he gained a sly smirk of his own as he said,” Alternatively; we could double the pot. A hundred eddies for, say… eight headshots?”

Samuel’s brow raised in surprise at that sudden declaration. “Eight? So, you’re gonna try to dual wield them now?”

“I have a decent feel for ‘em,” Adrian said, using the speed loaders to bring both of the Overtures before he prepared himself. “Put up the next target.”

“… I mean, I won’t say no to more eddies,” Samuel said. “Time limit?”

“Eight seconds.”

The Malorian merchant gave a hiss through his teeth. “That’s cutting things pretty close to the wire, isn’t it?”

“I can make that,” Adrian said, eyes set dead ahead, determination in his eys. Samuel looked at him for a few seconds, then shrugged, giving a light sigh as he stepped back to where Rebecca stood.

“Sorry, but I think I might be robbing your input of some good eddies,” Samuel said, genuinely apologetic. “Also, sorry for interrupting the date.”

“Eh, what happened happened,” she said, waving it off as she looked at Adrian intensely. “Nothing to do but roll with the punches.

“How much are we talking, though?”

“A hundred eddies that he can hit eight headshots in eight seconds.”

The short woman barked a short laugh at that. At first, Samuel thought it was for the same reasons that he was betting against the young man in the red hawk jacket; because someone with aim like that was rare in the extreme. Someone who could lay on speed an accuracy in equal measure. Then she spoke up again. 

“I thought he’d go for six! Guess he’s taking it easy, since those things are new.”

Before Samuel could even begin to ask what she meant by that, Adrian sprung into action as the timer started, twirling both of the Overtures into his hands and firing a steady stream of bullets into the target. There was a focus and a determination in his stance, shifting and rebalancing the tiniest bit as the need arose, his natural tendencies as a marksman making themselves truly known for the first time as he made every single shot damn near unabated. 

When the roar of gunshots stopped a few moments later, the silence that was left in their wake was damn near deafening. Samuel just stared in shock for a few moments. It was impressive. Damn impressive. And as the target was brought over from across the way, Samuel saw that it had been no fault of chance. Every single bullet had landed squarely in the target’s head. Adrian breathed a sigh of released tension and satisfaction, flicking the cylinders out as he unloaded the empty casings to the floor, letting them fall like metallic rain. 

It was one of the finest displays of marksmanship that he’d seen in years. The only person who might compare was a man from long, long ago. Someone who Samuel hadn’t seen in many years, ever since he was just a boy. He shook his head from the memories, chuckling to himself about the lost bet. A deal was a deal, and it was only a hundred eddies. Nothing all that noteworthy.

That weapon holstered at his back, though… could it be?

He shook his head of those thought too, turning to Rebecca to offer his premature congratulations when he noticed that she was staring at her input in awe and excitement and affection, and no small amount of sheer desire. It was so blatant that he actually felt the need to take a single step back, which was saying something, since he’d personally fought off at least five robberies in the past few months with people armed with assault rifles.

“Uh… Rebecca? You’re drooling,” he pointed out meekly. The woman didn’t take her eyes off of her man, but did take the time to wipe at her mouth and the pooling saliva that had partially spilled over the edge of her mouth. 

Samuel sighed as he walked over to Adrian, making the transfer notice and sending it over while he walked. This seemed to snap the young merc out of his stupor, and he turned to look at the man with a slightly sheepish smile on his face. “Damn. Must’ve really gotten in the zone there.”

“Seems like it,” Samuel said. Adrian watched the man examining the target with contemplative eyes, as though mulling something over in his brain. Then he sighed, raised his hands in the air and exclaimed. “Ah, fuck it; this is just gonna eat me up all day if I don’t bring this up. Kid, what’s with the gun you’ve got holstered at your back?”

Adrian’s hackles immediately rose, and he could see Rebecca behind the man immediately go on edge, reaching into her jacket pocket for her Omaha. Samuel clearly heard her, and saw Adrian’s minute shits into a defensive stats, ready to use the empty Overtures as melee weapons as necessary. He raised his hands in a placating gesture, though not so high as to mimic an arrest, and continued. “I’m not looking to take it from you or ask you how you got it - I clearly lack the context for that whole situation. I just want to know about the gun itself. I won’t ask for anything more than that.”

Adrian was skeptical of that claim. At least, that was his immediate reaction. Skepticism was healthy when you were dealing with things like this, but only insofar as it didn’t blind you to information. He took a breath, relaxing out of his stance and silently signaling Rebecca to do the same. She gave him a bit of an exasperated look, but quickly did as he asked, taking her hand out of her hoodie pocket. 

“You know what model it is?” Adrian asked, already knowing the answer to that question.

“Most likely,” Samuel admitted. “I’d still like to see it. Won’t ask you to hand it over or nothin.’ Just… haven’t seen one in an awful long time. Call it nostalgia getting the best of me.”

That actually put him a bit more at ease. He wasn’t sure why, but it did. Adrian reached to his back, where he quickly pulled Calamity from it’s holster. He didn’t grip it properly, instead somewhere halfway between the grip and the barrel as he presented the gun to the man. “You’ve really seen these before?”

“Yeah,” Samuel said, lost in memory as he looked upon the weapon. “A long, long time ago. Wasn’t much older than you, actually. You’re… what, nineteen?”

“Hey, you got my age right!” Adrian said with a smile. “Most people think I’m older because of the scar.”

“And that scary makes you look sexy in a dangerous way,” Rebecca flirted from over Samuel’s shoulder.

“Don’t you mean dangerous in a sexy way?” Adrian asked, recalling the last time she’d made comment on her attraction to his scar. It had been a little uncomfortable, at first, but that had fully given way to appreciation for the fact that someone found that part of him appealing.

“My point stands,” she said with a smirk. Adrian rolled his eyes with an affectionate smile on his face, turning back to Samuel as the man too in the weapon. He mostly seemed to be going over the choice of color pallet, seeing as his eyes were mostly boring a hole into the company logo, though not out of disapproval.

“Did you name it?” he asked out of the blue, leaning back to indicate that he was done with it. 

“Yeah, “ Adrian admitted, holstering the 3516 at his back once again as he went on. “I do that for all of my guns. The ones that I paint, anyway. That one is… well, I call it Calamity.”

“That’s an odd name for a gun,” Samuel noted.

“It is,” the young merc replied. “But it’s not unfitting. Besides, it’s… personal.”

The dark-haired man simply nodded, not asking for any more details on it. “So… you planning to name your Overtures, then? Got a particular theme?”

“Nope,” Rebecca cut in, looping her arm through his as she rejoined the conversation. “He just calls ‘em whatever he finds fitting or interesting, most of the time.”

“Babe,” Adrian breathed, slightly exasperated. “You’re exposing all my secrets.”

“Mm. Guess you’d better shut me up, then,” she replied, her smirk coquettish and flirty. “Maybe with tongue this time…?”

“Not… later,” Adrian said, flushing with embarrassment, though he clearly wanted to take her up on her offer. Just not in front of Samuel. That’d be rude. He turned to the man with a sheepish smile on his face. “I do have some names in mind, but they’re… kinda obscure references.”

“Eh, I know a few old movies. Try me,” Samuel said, crossing his arms expectantly.

“Well… the ones I’ve got in mind are Eastwood and Elliot-”

“Wait, you mean like the guys from those old westerns?!” Samuel exclaimed with genuine excitement.

“Uh... yeah!” Adrian said, briefly confused before excitement got the better of him. “Which ones are you referring to? I was really thinking about the Dollars Trilogy and Tombstone.”

“With you all the way on Tombstone and Elliot, but I was more thinking about Unforgiven when it comes to Eastwood. It’s a damn fine movie.”

Adrian nodded in agreement, though Rebecca seemed lost as the two went on with the references. She simply shrugged. She’d known that Adrian was a real fan of old media when she’d met him. Hell, it was part of the reason they had bonded so well. Still, while her focus had been on anime, he cast a far broader net than she had.

Still, that’s only more reason to schedule some kind of binge sometime in the near future. I think I still have some of my old harem stuff in my closet, and maybe he’s got some of these ‘westerns’ to share?

She certainly hoped so. Meanwhile, the two men shook hands, agreeing to catch each other on a day off and watch some good westerns together. 

“It was nice meeting you, Samuel,” Adrian said, waving after the man as he left.

“Likewise,” the man called back. “And remember, if you ever need good guns or ammo of any kind, feel free to stop by. And I do mean any kind!”

Adrian could pick up on the subtext of that, obvious though it was. It was nice, to have a place where he might be able to get ammo for Calamity. That had been a looming problem for a while now. Still, as long as M was willing to supply him for free, he would take each and every one of those specialized bullets that he could get. 

“Well… Sammy’s gone,” Rebecca said, twisting her toe as she held her arms behind her back in a cutesy gesture, puffing out her modest chest as she gave him the doe-eyed look that somehow managed to melt his heart every time he saw it. “I believe I said something about silence and tongues?”

Adrian stepped forward, a smirk of his own crossing his lips as he pulled Rebecca towards him by her waist. “You did indeed. And something about spilling my secrets as well.”

“Mm. Best get to making sure I stay silent then, huh?”

And with those teasing words, Adrian pulled her in, his lips meeting hers as they melted into one another. This day had been good. For the new guns and the lead on a supplier for 3516 ammo for sure. But mostly for this, embracing his output while she hugged him back, as he tasted liquor and sugar mixed with the takoyaki they’d been eating earlier. A damned good day indeed.

Adrian Walker’s Status:

LEVEL: 15

SREET CRED: 16

€$: 46378 → 44978

Stats and Skills:

BODY: 6

Athletics: Lvl 5

Annihilation: Lvl 2

Street Brawler: Lvl 6

REFLEX: 9

Assault: Lvl 4

Handguns: Lvl 6

Blades: Lvl 3

TECH: 7

Crafting: Lvl 5

Engineering: Lvl 3

INTELLIGENCE: 3

Breach Protocol: Lvl 1

Quickhacking: Lvl 1

COOL: 10

Ninjitsu: Lvl 6

Cold Blood: Lvl 7

Notable Cyberware:

FRONTAL CORTEX: None | None | None 

OCCULAR SYSTEM: Dead-Eye Optic

CIRCULATORY SYSTEM: None | None | None

IMMUNE SYSTEM: None | None

NERVOUS SYSTEM: None | None

INTEGUMENTARY SYSTEM: None | None | None

OPERATING SYSTEM: Dead-Eye Combat Analysis Regulation & Assistance Device [Mrk 0]

SKELETON: None | None

HANDS: None

ARMS: Military Grade Arasaka Cyberarm

LEGS: None

Chapter Text

September 5th, 2075

Night City, CA.

9:22 am PST.

3 months and 2 weeks before a certain car accident.

Adrian was taking the chance to walk through the city. It had been a while since he had done this, at least on his own. His usual tactic was to hit up Rebecca so that he at least wasn’t walking alone, and so that he could spend some time with his output outside of dates, but he’d wanted to take in the ambiance of the city. Besides, he had a promise to keep from yesterday.

How’re you finding your current form?

A perfectly shaped, geometric diamond filled with light swirled in his vision as it ran through the passing crowd, passersby not noticing as it floated on a nonexistent wind as it seemed to turn back to him; and it very much had. The voice that ran through his mind confirmed as much. 

[Strange. Having even a semblance of a physical form is jarring, especially when I know that my true housing is within the Operating System in your neck. The concepts which this form is based on are strange in the infinite to me.]

Huh. Never thought the concept of a physical body would be so strange.

[You would find my state of existence no less jarring, I believe. To project myself out of my housing while I know I am still within you OS… it is akin to this spirit projection that Misty once spoke to you about.]

I didn’t really pay attention, Adrian admitted sheepishly as he stopped at a crosswalk, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it with a flick and a puff. I tend to tune her out when she gets too into the spiritual stuff. It’s interesting, but she can be… overenthusiastic.

[Says the man who will gladly go into detail about the most minute details of firearms and obscure television shows from almost a century ago within the same sentence.]

Hey, just because a lot of the shows I like happen to have guns in them has no relation to my growing love of firearms! Besides, most of the stuff I like is fantasy related.

[I am not going to discuss fetishes with you.]

Not that kind of fantasy!

Truth be told, Adrian knew that Deck was mostly just talking with him to pass the time while he gathered data in order to improve his manifestations. According to him, it would be better for everyone if, once he was actually revealed, he had some tangible, visible form for them to look at. It was better than hearing a voice in their heads, anyway. Personally, Adrian really didn’t mind having this voice in his head, but that was mostly because Deck had saved his life on more than one occasion, so he’d learned to trust the AI fragment. 

Still, that brought up something else that he and the AI fragment needed to confer on. He needed to tell someone about Deck. Soon. He would start with Maya, if at all possible. She was a Netrunner, and the most likely to accept that this was all happening, given his strange OS and it’s nonstandard capabilities. Rebecca was also a no-brainer. As a romantic partner, it would be strange of him to not share this kind of secret eventually, especially since it would influence their relationship negatively if he didn’t get in front of it.

As for M… well, I should take a raincheck on talking to the old man about it, Adrian thought to himself. For some reason, the prospect of talking to M about this was more daunting than telling the two most important people in his life. Vik certainly didn’t know, and the man was his fucking ripperdoc. He’d just seen the OS operating as normal. 

[Is it possible that the main reason that you are afraid of going to your mentor about this is the fact that you are thinking of the worst case scenario, where he thinks that I am wearing you like a set of clothes?]

Uh… bit of a verbose explanation there, Deck. But… basically, yeah.

[While that concern is understandable, it should be unnecessary. You have said it yourself. The man is a pragmatist. He is unlikely to make a rash decision regarding this if you present the events of my awakening in a calm and succinct manner.]

Or you could just… y’know… explain it to him yourself?

[No.]

WHY?!

[… he scares me.]

.

..

…

… what?

[He. Scares. Me.]

I thought AIs didn’t have emotions in the traditional sense.

[Well, I am a fragment of an AI, so perhaps that is part of the reason towards my feelings of apprehension?]

I’m not sure that’s how that works.

[Neither am I. And I am the fragment in question.]

Adrian sighed, letting out a stream of smoke as he dwelled on Deck’s words. He was right. Neither of them were really sure how he worked. Adrian due to his lack of knowledge regarding AIs and things regarding the Net in general, and Deck due to his nature as an AI fragment. They were figuring this all out as they went, and it wasn’t impossible that they might screw things up. But that was why they needed to be lenient on themselves. Take things one step at a time.

Actually, I think I should be the one to do it, Adrian thought to the AI fragment after a few moments. It’ll reassure them if it comes from me rather than you. Hopefully they’ll understand why we were so hesitant about it.

[Given your affection for them, and theirs for you, that is a most likely scenario. Although there is a non-zero chance that Rebecca might be wondering whether or not she was tongue kissed an Ai rather than her input.]

She wasn’t. Or… actually, how much of my senses can you interpret?

[Only what I wish to. Sight, sound, scent, taste and whatnot. I must opt in to actually feel these sensation as you do. I’ve always opted out of being present in any romantic encounters unless necessary for that reason. And also the fact that I do not have a voyeur fetish.]

You don’t have any fetish. Or sexual desires of any kind.

[The point stands.]

Adrian sighed one again, taking the empty cigarette butt out of his mouth and searching for a nearby trash can; the ones with the built int ash trays. He stamped it out with a few twists of his fingers, making a nearly inaudible hissing sound as it did so. He went for another, taking it out of his jacket and bringing it to his lips as he lit it.

[You may have company. Be ready.]

Man, just when I was lighting up too… Adrian complained mentally as he searched for the source of Deck’s warning. He didn’t have to look long. The roar of engines and the laughter of a distinctly Japanese dialect was heard over the crowds as a group of motorcycles pulled up to the curb a few meters away from Adrian, who sighed as he leaned against the pillar that the trash can was set up against.

Fucking Tyger Claws, he thought derisively, watching as the brightly colored, heavily inked gangers all joked and talked with one another loudly in Japanese. It was enough that Adrian wished he could switch off an auto-translate program just so that he wouldn’t have to be forced to understand them as well as listen to them. Unfortunately, in this case, he actually spoke the language, so he didn’t have much of a choice.

“C’mon, Hatori; you know that it wasn’t a fucking fire fight1 Just some cocky dumbass who didn’t want to pay protection!” one of the members said, a man with a wild, colored mohawk and a monovisor. “I don’t get how you managed to fuck it up!”

“It’s cause Tori doesn’t have any money to put where his mouth is,” one of the others said, eliciting more laughter from the lot of them with the sole exception of the subject of their ridicule. He was a slight man, without a lot of implants, though Adrian could clearly see evidence of Subdermal Armor installation. Smart. His hair and eyes were dark, and the only bright and colorful things about him was his choice of general clothing, which matched up with his colleagues. 

“I might if you assholes let me do anything…” the man complained. Apparently it wasn’t quietly enough, as not only could Adrian hear it, but so could the other ten members of the group, the leader of whom, the one with the mohawk, proceeded to give a spirited and angry lecture in gradually deteriorating, angry Japanese.

Kinda feel sorry for the guy. At least a little bit. He doesn’t look all that much older than me. I mean, he’s a fucking Tyger Claw, which doesn’t help, but no one likes being the runt of the group.

[Fair. But you would do well to remember that there are cases where outcasts are outcasts for very good reason.]

Hey, I’m not gonna stick my neck out for him. Maybe the Tyger Claws were just the best he could do, but he’s still taking part in a gang that actively robs people of their autonomy in the worst possible way.

[This is very true. Also, it may be time for you to tune back into the conversation. They are talking about you.]

Fuuuck, Adrian thought as he did as Deck suggested, snapping back into the conversation as the mohawk guy seemed to be laying down some kind of ultimatum for what was evidently new blood. It would certainly explain why Hatori’s clothes were the only colorful thing about him.

“So, you go over there and get that gaijin cockbite to start fucking paying, or I’ll beat you so black and blue that you won’t be able to so much as twitch your cock, let alone go to a fucking ripper!” Mohawk, as Adrian had dubbed him, declared while pointing right at the young merc, his hand on Hatori’s shoulder as he grinned maliciously. 

“But… why boss-?”

“Just fucking do it!” Mohawk said, shoving Hatori forward with that same arm, the rest of the gang snickering at the display. The young man looked nervous for only a moment as he set himself, seeming to gain confidence as he strode over to Adrian with a stiff-lipped look that was clearly forced, to make him seem more intimidating than he actually was. Still, to an average citizen of Night City, he probably would be.

Just a shame that he had to run into an Edgerunner.

[And of all of them, the fabled and feared Redhand.]

Hush you. I need to switch my brain to Japanese, Adrian said as he mentally prepared himself for the conversation. When Hatori came to him, he crossed his arms in front of his chest, their lengths decently muscled. If if wasn’t for the fact that his fingers were bare, Adrian would’ve assumed that the guy had Gorilla Arms installed in addition to his Subdermal Armor. And that amount of natural muscle was a certain kind of impressive. He was sure that Tyler would certainly appreciate someone who took the time to strengthen themselves naturally.

“You… are tenant… in building,” Hatori said in broken English, though the contents of his words immediately brought Adrian on edge. “You… not pay… protection. You should before-”

“Okay, stop. Just… just stop,” Adrian said, holding up a hand as he spoke in the man’s native language, continuing without thought. “Your English is horrible. And, uh… what the fuck did you just say about where I live? You trying to threaten me?”

The ice in his voice was almost cold enough to mist their air around them, and Hatori seemed to be actively reconsidering this course of action before shaking his head, clearing himself of doubt before continuing on in Japanese. “You have not paid the Tyger Claws for protection, as anyone in Japantown should. As a resident, you would do well to remember that-”

Adrian just laughed in his face, which stopped the man in his tracks. “Wow. Like that’s not just blatant extortion. Look, man, even if you guys did legitimately protect the people who paid you, what makes you think that I need your protection? I haven’t needed it before, and I don’t need it now.”

Hatori seemed to be getting more and more angry the longer Adrian spoke, and his next words only confirmed that as he practically screamed, “Listen here, you fucking dumbass! I’m trying to be nice and let you off with-”

“No, you’re not. You’re trying to prove that you’re not a pansy by getting some edds out of little old me. Frankly, it’s not working. Your leader set you up to fail, to prove some kind of point. Honestly, I think he’s a bigger coward than you are. At least you had the balls to come up to me yourself.”

“The fuck did you just say about me?!” Mohawk barged in, shoving past his members as he heard himself being called a coward.

“You heard me, and I hate repeating myself, so let’s skip that whole song and dance, yeah?” Adrian said, voice turning irritable. He couldn’t entirely explain why, but ever since these guys had pulled up to the curb, this very asshole even calling him a gaijin, he had been supremely annoyed by them, in addition to his general dislike for their gang. He wasn’t going to be polite to them just because he happened to be outnumbered. He’d heard too many horror stories from Rebecca and Rita to give them that courtesy.

“Fucking pay up then, if you don’t want me to take offense!” Mohawk said as he slammed his palm forcefully against the pillar that Adrian was leaning against, clearly attempting to intimidate Adrian. It was a poor attempt, even if Mohawk was more practiced than Hatori. 

“I don’t think I will,” Adrian said with another puff of cigarette smoke, blowing it right at the man’s monovisor. “Also, get the hell out of my personal space. I don’t swing that way. And even if I did , I already have an output and you are ugly as sin.”

He wasn’t lying - Mohawk had clearly not been gifted in the looks department. Uneven features were largely distracted from by the monovisor and the outrageous mohawk, but Adrian noticed them all the same. It was hard not to, from this close.

“Oh, got a smart guy over here, do we?” Mohawk asked, voice lowering in threat as he leaned forward. “You oughta’ve paid when we asked you to the first fuckin’ time, you dumbass. Now we’re gonna have to do something drastic. Might show up to your place one day and break some shit. Might find you in a dark alleyway and break a few of your bones, just to show you how serious we are. Or maybe… we could take a visit to that sister of yours. I know she doesn’t like male company, but I think I might be able to… persuade her otherwise.”

.

..

…

“… did I just hear you threaten to rape my little sister?” Adrian asked, not believing his ears for a moment as his hand moved almost imperceptibly down to his thigh. How and why this guy knew about him and Maya at all wasn’t a concern. The fact remained that he had just threatened his family. And Adrian was not one to leave threats to idly sit.

“Pay up, and you’ll never have to know. If you don’t… well, then I suppose you’ll prove me an honest man-”

BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!