View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZEcqHA7dbwM
David Martinez was no stranger to alcohol.
He never drank the hardcore stuff, mind you. His mother would never let him so much as have a taste of Vodka or Whiskey. It was casual stuff, cheap sh*t like beer. He rarely drank beer on account of the fizz. The bubbly stuff just never sat well with him. As one could imagine, his tolerance was practically dismal, hence why he and his mother rarely drank when there was something to celebrate.
Which raised the question: Why did David feel like he was hung over six ways from Sunday?
"Fffffuuuuck me…"
David groaned, sinking further into the beanbag cushion he splurged on after scoring a bonus from Doc. He felt nauseaus as hell, the world was spinning, and he was half-sure the world was in twelve different colors. Worse, every inch of his body felt like it went through ten rounds of nail-biting torture. Even when still, his body lurched in agony. His head felt no better. Something in the back of his head felt as if it were on fire.
What the hell happened, David thought groggily. God, I can barely hear myself think. Shiiit…
For the life of him, he could not remember how he got back to his and his mom's apartment, much less when he crashed. He remembered going to school, getting into another bitching match with that stuck-up Corpo c*nt Katsuo, but…what happened after that? He tried to think, to focus, but the haze on his mind increased tenfold when he did.
The worst part was how hungry he felt. His stomach made noises, worse than normal. He felt like he could eat a horse and still starve.
Maybe if I just lay here awhile, give it a couple minutes, the throbbing will stop, David thought. With that in mind, he let his body sink further into the beanbag. He hoped it would swallow him whole.
Then a vid-call screeched in his ears and formed in front of his eyes. In response, his brain screeched.
"God dammit…" David hissed between clenched teeth. "Who the hell is calling me?" When he read the ID, he blinked and felt the haze over his mind clear up some. "Hospital… What? Why are they calling?"
Curious, he let the call go through. A man in medical scrubs appeared in the tiny box on the upper corner of his vision.
"David Martinez?"
"That's me," he groaned out. "What'cha want, choom?"
"Er…are you alright?"
"Ask me that in like an hour… A-anyway, what do you want?"
The doctor's voice took on the same professional, clinical 'I don't care about you except your money' tone he was used to hearing at school and from Doc on occasion. "I'm calling you to give you an update on your mother. Gloria Martinez, yes?"
"Mom?"
As if speaking the magic words, David found the pain completely shafted off to the side. He sat up straight, eyes wide.
"Yes, she's fine now. She's actually being prepped for release as we speak," the doctor told him. "Honestly, I think she has the devil's luck. A car crash plus gang violence? She's lucky to have made it out with only a concussion and minor injuries."
A million questions went through David's head. Car crash? Gang violence? He wanted to press the doctor for answers, find out what happened, but they were the furthest thing from his mind. All he could think, focus on was that his mother was in a car crash when some gun-toting assholes decided to pop off.
The doctor said something else, but he didn't hear him. The whole world was a blur for David as he all but leaped off the beanbag and sprint right out the door.
He did not notice the scorch marks around the room or overturned furniture, much less the fact that the door was torn off the track and crumbled, the handles bearing hand-shaped print half-melted into it.
David arrived at the hospital in record time. He skidded to a stop right as the doors opened and the world finally came into focus for him. His mother came out in a wheelchair with her yellow EMT jacket and medical garbs, looking none the worse for wear besides having a few scars.
"Mom!" He threw himself at her, wrapping his arms tightly around her as if afraid she would disappear.
Gloria laughed weakly as she hugged her son back. "Hey, easy there, Dee. I'm still fragile here!"
"S-sorry!" He pulled away from Gloria, unable to keep the goofy smile off his face. "I'm just glad you're okay, mom."
"Honey, I'm a Martinez. We don't break that easily," she retorted with a similar smile, though it quickly changed into one of relief. "I'm glad you're okay, honey. It must have been awful."
"Awful? What are you talkin' about?"
"Don't try and downplay what happened, David. The doctors told me everything," Gloria said. "You carried me all the way here looking like complete and total crap and told the nearest doctor to fix me or you'd turn him into bloody paste on the wall." She glared in disapproval, albeit mockingly and more amused than anything. "I thought I raised you better than that, boy."
David blinked. "I…did?"
Now it was Gloria's turn to blink. "You don't remember?"
"No, I was crashing back home and hurting like hell. Felt like I drank like ten bottles of Vodka back-to-back nonstop." David shook his head. "Nevermind that, are you sure you okay? The docs said you got into a car crash."
For some reason, Gloria was staring at him in concern. "…Dee," she began slowly. "What's the last thing you remember from yesterday?"
"I, uh, don't remember much," he admitted bashfully. "I was at school, and… I think I was going home?"
"We were. You were in the car when sh*t hit the fan." She leaned over and held David's hands. The young man winced at the painful reminder of how thin his mother looked. "You really don't remember what happened?"
"I… N-no. I don't."
For some reason, that scared him.
David and his mother's conversation was animated, mainly her fretting and worrying over him because of a lapse in memory. It seemed that most of David's memories that day were intact, at least up until his mother came to pick him up. Were it not for the outstanding bills, Gloria would have pawned him off to the doctors to see if he was alright. For the time being, they pushed the topic off to the side, though David expected her to lay into him when they got home. While his chrome was minimal, he had the implants needed for day-to-day life in Night City and what was required for school. Gloria would give him a check-up and see if there was a problem with his hardware.
At least, that was the plan.
"What the f*ck is this?!" David yelled as he took notice of the damage to their apartment. The damage was not too severe, but the place looked thrashed to hell with scorch marks everywhere. The crumpled door off to the side was especially egregious, though he did not notice the hand imprint on the door's edge.
Gloria swore just as fiercely as she looked about the room. She made to stand up, somewhat wobbly and unsteady. David was there to catch here when it looked as though she would fall. "God dammit," she growled. "As if what happened yesterday wasn't enough." She looked at her son. "You didn't notice any of this?"
"When the docs told me you were in the hospital, I just zoned out and booked it." A thought passed through his head and face turned pale. "Y-you don't think I did this, do you?"
"I doubt that, honey. Last I checked, you can't rip doors off," Gloria assured him. "Not unless you went on got yourself some new cyberware without telling me." She gently pulled away from her son's arms. "I'd like to know what jokester thought pulling this sh*t was going to be funny."
Despite David's protests, Gloria insisted they work to fix their apartment. Furniture was mended to the best of their ability and returned to their proper places. During this time, Gloria was making numerous calls. She first made a report to the management about their apartment's vandalization, though they both knew it wouldn't matter much in the long run. The management were scum-sucking bastards who would listen to complaints with one ear then let it go out in the other. After that was calling work to let her know she would be taking a few days off to recover via PTO.
She went to make another phone call, stepping out to do so. David nearly went after her to make sure she didn't get hurt or worse, only stopping when he thought about how it would annoy her. He was scared for her after what happened, but he knew his mom. She was running on fumes, but even then, she was fighting. She was not frail or weak. He chose to leave her be, though it left a bitter taste in his mouth.
On the plus side, at least his mom hadn't found his stash of BDs. That was a conversation he was not looking forward to.
Speaking of BDs, I still need to get my cut from Doc, David thought wryly. Made plenty of scratch the other day.
Absent-mindedly, he made a mental note to ask Doc for any new recommendations, if only to help take the edge off.
In a more secluded part of the megabuilding, Gloria initiated a vid-call with an associate.
"Hey, Gloria!" a grizzled old face greeted her with a wide grin. "Was gettin' worried when you didn't answer my call yesterday."
"Sorry, Maine," Gloria told him. "I got involved in a f*cking sh*tshow involving the Animals and wound up in the hospital. That's why I couldn't make the drop-off in time. Actually, that's why I'm calling." Her face grew severe. "I have some bad news."
Maine raised an eyebrow. "Somethin' happen?"
"My apartment got wrecked." The merc's eyes narrowed dangerously. "There are burn marks all over the place, and someone tore the door right out of the track. The metal's crumpled, too. For the most part, it seems like nothing was touched except…"
"…for f*ck's sake. They took the Sandevistan?"
Gloria grimaced. "I'm afraid so."
"God dammit," Maine swore angrily. "I paid good money for that."
"I know, I know. I'll reimburse you for it. Full price."
"What? f*ck that sh*t, Gloria. You and I both know there ain't no one you can make that kinda scratch. Don't you gotta take care of your kid, first?"
"I do, but half his tuition comes from you," she insisted. "You did good by me when we ran together. The least I can do is pay you back with interest."
Maine shook his head. "You don't owe me anythin'. But, I know how goddamn stubborn you are. If you're serious 'bout paying me back, fine. But you're paying me 15,000 like we agreed. No more, no less. Got that?"
"So long as you cut back on your chrome addiction," Gloria shot back playfully. "I'm pretty sure Dorio would be pissed if her Input went crazy because he was compensating."
"You too? Seriously, what is it with the women in my life giving me sh*t?"
Gloria smiled.
Maine was a mercenary from her younger years, back when she was David's age. He had been in the game for a decade or two by then, with way less chrome than he had now and less hot-headed. With no home to go to and no one to rely for support, the life of an Edgerunner was the only life she had. It was dangerous, frightfully so, but she endured and survived.
It was just her and Maine at first. He was a Solo initially and let her join him because he thought she could be useful. Dorio joined a year later, having impressed Maine after clocking his lights out during their first meeting. Little did either of them know that, in doing so, Maine found the woman he'd been waiting for all his life. It did not take long for the two of them to hook up, though that was also around the time Gloria earned enough to make a new start for herself. She stayed on with Maine and Dorio for about another year before leaving on good terms.
The crew changed significantly since then. Maine now had two Netrunners under his wing, a techie with a questionable fixation on Lizzy Wizzy and his younger sister who Maine described as a gun-crazed goblin. Though nowhere near acclaimed as some other reputable Edgerunners, Maine's crew was well-known enough that some fixers requested him by name.
During that time, Gloria spent her days working to eke out the normal life she was deprived. She got a job as an EMT, working double shifts and the occasional graveyard shift. There was a time when she longed for romance and got her wish in the form of a dashing young man by the name of Carlos Martinez. He was a former Valentino, recognizable by the colorful skull tattoo on his shoulderblades and the gold cross dangling from his wrist. He never told why he left the Valentinos, save that it had something to do with a fixer by the name of Padre.
It wasn't love at first sight or anything like that. It took at least two years before they started dating. Their romance was a short one, sadly. One day, Carlos disappeared and never came back to the apartment. A detective by the name of River Ward contacted her some weeks later and informed her of Carlos' death, apparently left to rot in the badlands with a bullet lodged in the back of his head. Who killed him and why, she did not know. It hurt not knowing, and worse still when the NCPD declared Carlos' murder a cold case.
Nine months later, David was born. Her last living link to Carlos.
"If we ever have a child, I want them to have a good life," Gloria remembered her gonk saying. Back then, she never dreamed of having a child. That life seemed far off.
Wanting to honor Carlos' wishes, and genuinely wanting her son to have a better life—and never experience what she did—she worked herself to the bone to provide for the both of them. When David got accepted into Arasaka Academy, she was over the moon. She was similarly ecstatic to see him doing well in spite of the apparent trouble between him and his classmates. She was worried at first, thinking she might be pressuring him too much, but David took more after his father and was stubborn as hell. He endured and worked his way to the very top of his class.
Unfortunately, that was also around the time things started getting rough. A series of incidents forced them to move to Santo Domingo, and a transfer to the EMT branch there saw her getting scathing treatment from pretty much everyone, including the bastards paying her. She worked long hours, but the pay was almost insulting. Not helping was that the management of Megabuilding H4 being total and complete douchebags who she sorely wanted to kill. They were less human and more credit-sucking bastards. It hadn't been until around David's tenth birthday when Gloria decided to contact Maine.
She had no plans to return to her Edgerunning days. Mercs had short lifespans, and she planned to live long enough to see David enter the Arasaka workforce. It also happened that Maine was looking to get his hands on new tech as a means to strengthen himself. He was getting on in the years, and the more dangerous criminals of Night City were getting some serious chrome. Thus they sparked a deal; Maine would pay for any cyberware she klept from any poor bastard who wound up dead before the meatwagons reached them.
Her most recent acquisition was a military-grade Sandevistan she ripped from the corpse of a cyberpsycho. It was in primo condition with little damage, and any scuffs she did found could easily be fixed with a visit to a ripperdoc.
15000 credits was not much, but it was more than Gloria could ask for. She initially planned to use it for David and maybe the occasional splurge, but the car crash and its unexpected theft derailed her plans. She owed Maine a great deal, and a Martinez never went back on their word.
Still, Gloria thought as the call ended. She glanced out the window, watching the sun set with a troubled frown. How the hell did they find out about the Sandevistan?
The next day, David decided to skip school. Part of it was to look after his mom, part of it had to deal with an obnoxious call from that gonkhead Katsuo Tanaka, and the rest involved a visit to the local ripperdoc.
It took about ten seconds before David wished he had gone to school.
"f*ckin' Christ, Doc!" David yelled in disgust.
The reason for said disgust was Doc being most naked and a mechanical apparatus attached to his groin, which was in the process of making some disturbing noises. The young man had a decent idea what he walked into when he saw the BD wreath discarded nearby.
"Aw, come on," Doc cackled. "You've seen worse!"
"Not the point." David took a breath and shook his head. "I'm here about my cut for the other day."
"What, you couldn't have just called and get the eddies that way?" The ripperdoc (thankfully) turned around and removed the apparatus and pulled up his pants. "But yeah, fine. Actually, you came just in time! Got some nova XBDs yesterday."
Despite what his name implied, Doc was no ripper. Not a licensed one, anyway. There was no shortage of clients who complained of his practices, but people desperate for chrome always found their way to him. The first time David came here, he saw a woman wearing Sixth Street colors screaming as Doc ripped open her back and flayed her flesh. It was grizzly and bloody, yet the young man could not help but watch with twisted fascination and disgust.
Aside from installing cyberware, Doc also peddled in other ventures such as drugs, selling illegal cyberware to the black market, and XBDs. David was an avid fan of the latter, creating a rapport between the two. In exchange for helping sell off the XBDs, Doc would offer him a small cut. Not large sums like David hoped, but enough to go a long way in helping his mother out.
At the mention of XBDs, David felt his skin grow hot. Memories of the day before, memories of Arasaka Academy, resurfaced. Anger burned in his chest.
"That reminds me, what the hell kind of sh*t did you pawn off me?" David demanded. "That wreath you gave me was total sh*t! I nearly got expelled when I tried to interface with the new system at school!"
To David's chagrin, the ripperdoc laughed. "What did you expect? It's cheap, off-brand sh*t barely worth a hundred eddies. Only a moron would try and use it with Arasaka tech!"
Fingers curled into his palms. Nails threatened to break skin. David was sorely tempted to bash Doc's face in and see what color he bled.
This goddamn…
"Don't get your panties in a twist, kid," Doc snickered. "Look, I'll make it up to you. You been doin' some preem work, so I'll throw a nice bonus your way. Consider it an apology, yeah?"
"…tch. Fine, whatever. What XBD did you wanna show me, anyway?"
"Hehe~ Wait 'till you see it. It's gonna blow your f*ckin' mind!" David raised an eyebrow at Doc's giddy reaction. "Your classmates at 'Saka are gonna love it. You will too, I think. It's nova and freaky."
As much as the young man wanted to deck the ripperdoc, bonus or no, he couldn't help but feel intrigued. While Doc was no connoisseur or genius when it came to XBDs, he rarely took delight in them. If he was talking it up this fiercely, it must be good.
Or f*cking sick and twisted like he is, David added in the privacy and safety of his thoughts. After a moment of consideration, he shrugged. What did he have to lose besides a few minutes of his time? "Alright, f*ck it. Let's see this crazy XBD."
[XBDs were something of a sick and twisted pleasure.
BD, or 'Brain Dance', was a recreational video in which a person experienced the moments of another person in real time. Every thought, every emotion, every sensation; the user felt it all as if they were there and not just experiencing something someone else felt. For the most part, BDs were used primarily for entertainment and educational purposes.
XBDs, on the other hand, were used purely for pleasure, adrenaline, and to experience what it felt like to die. 'Extreme Brain Dances', as the name implied, were illicit recordings involving explicit and inappropriate content. A gonk getting his brains blown out, a joytoy getting reamed doggystyle while cold as ice, some poor shmuck getting stripped and shredded by Scavs, and everything in between.
David, in particular, was a fan of the ones featuring death. More accurately, he enjoyed the sensation of pumpling adrenaline, experiencing the fight-or-flight instincts of someone staring death down. His personal favorites were the ones when they were looking forward to dying in a blaze of glory or piss off the guys aiming guns down their faces.
He was only five seconds into the XBD and he could already tell this one was going to the top of his list. He had no idea who it was, only that they were scared out of their f*cking minds and running as fast as their legs could take them. Better yet, the poor shmuck was an Animal; one of the sons of bitches responsible for the car crash.
"What the actual f*ck is that motherf*cker?!" David heard one of their choombas scream.
That was the moment when something whipped across the air and snatched said choomba by the neck, yanking them hard into the air before being dragged off kicking and screaming. They heard the screams, the cries and pleas. Then came a sickening 'crunch' and something wet splatters. They did not stop, they could not afford to. If they did, whoever was chasing them would kill them.
They rounded the corner and ducked behind a nearby garbage bin. It was almost comical as David imagined the scene; a muscular, beefy gonk hiding behind a green metal trash collector, no doubt pissing themselves.
No, wait. They were pissing themselves.
The XBD became ten times as better.
More screams and shrill cries for mercy filled the air, accompanied by gunfire. The noises were quickly silenced. They clamped a hand over their mouth, daring not to let out so much as a gasp out of fear of being found. Seconds went by, dragging on for what felt like minutes. Their heart thumped loudly in their chest, racing and beating like a drum at a rockerboy's funeral performance.
They dared to poke their head out, looking to find whoever was slaughtering their chooms. There was no one and nothing there. For a moment, hope blossomed and they stepped out into the open.
Then a thick metal chain snatched them by the ankle and pulled them deeper into the alley.
"f*ckf*ckf*ckf*ckf*ckf*ck!" the Animal swore repeatedly and frightfully, scrambling for something to stop them for even just a second. When they found nothing, they reached for their gun, only for another chain to snatch their wrist. Finally, they were dragged before their assailant and met them face-to-face.
David felt both his and the Animal's heart synch and beat so hard he swore it would jump right out his chest. The fear intensified to the point he felt light-headed. The Animal whimpered like some frightened child, staring at the monster in front of them. He had half a mind to believe they were a cyberpsycho or going full-borg; no sane person would strip off their flesh or reshape their body to look like a flaming skeleton.
On second thought, David had to hand it to that scary bastard's ripperdoc. They did a scary good job, quickly noticing that the bone was bleached and chipped, suffering from minor scars and cracks. Bits of metal decorated the skull, which he recognized as implants. Scorching hot waves poured off his skull, courtesy of the flames surrounding it. Within the sockets were glowing red orbs, lit up like the dots on the mechanical eye replacements for certain Edgerunners and lesser mercs.
"Any last words, piggy?" the cyberpsycho growled, voice raspy and echoing across the alley.
The Animal sobbed. "M-mercy…"
David swore the jaw curved, almost as if mimicking a savage smile. A bony hand reached out and grabbed the Animal by the face. They felt the sharp, bony pricks of the fingertips sink into their skull, cutting through metal seams of synth-flesh, breaking past the skull and—]
The last sensation David felt before he lurched forward with a gasp and caked in sweat was the feeling of his brain becoming mulch.
"H-holy f*ck," David panted. He clawed at his chest, gripping his shirt as if trying to stop his heart from beating out his chest. The sensations lingered like an infection. The adrenaline wasn't dying down. "That was… That was…"
"Preem sh*t, right?" Doc sneered across from him, taking a puff from an inhaler. He saw the lights on his optic helmet flicker for a moment before settling back into their dull blue glow. "It's unedited, too. Pure and clean."
David swallowed a lump of saliva stuck in his throat. "What kind of cyberware did that creepy asshole have? H-how do you survive scraping off all that skin and muscle?"
"Dunno. Whoever that sick f*ck is, he's gotta have one hell of a ripperdoc. I'm thinking 'Saka grade sh*t. Top shelf, the best money can buy," Doc chuckled. "This beauty came in hot couple two days ago."
Two days ago? Wasn't that when… No, it couldn't be. It was just coincidence.
"Whaddya say, Davey?" Despite knowing his answer, Doc leaned in with that same slimy smile. "Feel up for spreading the love? If you break even, I'll give ya another bonus. From one twisted f*ck to another, yeah?"
"…throw in a better wreath, and we'll talk."
"Tch. You're lucky I like you, kid. But fine…"
David returned home to find Gloria arguing with someone.
"I already told you, I'll get you the money! I always pay on time, don't I? What? Wait, what? Are you kidding me? You can't expect me to pay that! This is f*cking extortion, you son of a bitch!"
Management, David guessed with a frown. From his mother's words alone, he could tell they were trying to fleece her for more money.
"You know what, motherf*ckers? You want to kick us out that bad? Why don'tcha come down here and drag us out yourselves! I'll glady pay the money then—with f*cking lead!" The glow faded, indicating the call ended. Gloria scowled furiously, shoulders shaking in rage. "Eddie-sucking c*nts…"
"You, uh, okay, mom?" David asked out of concern. This was hardly the first time he saw her so angry, but it was the first time he saw her shaking. He could not tell if it was her injuries or a testament to how badly management pissed her off so badly.
Gloria didn't respond at first. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, then exhaled. The tension bled away. "I'm fine, Dee," she told him with a strained smile. "Don't worry about it, alright?"
"I'm your son. I can't help but worry." A thought came to mind. It was unpleasant and hardly the first time it passed by his brain, but David considered it one more than one occasion. Now more than ever. "If it gets too bad, I could always drop out and…"
Gloria shut him down almost immediately. "No way," she said firmly. "David, you've worked way too hard to stop here."
"I know, but you've been workin' yourself to the bone." Meanwhile, here I am, selling XBDs to those stuck up Corpo assholes and doin' nothing else with my life, David thought bitterly. He wisely kept such words in his thoughts rather than speak them in front of his mother. "Some days, I see you coming home stumbling in looking like a corpse. I can't help but worry, you know?"
"I know, sweetie. I'm fine, don't you worry. Remember what I said?"
He nodded. "We're Martinez. We don't break easily."
"Bingo," Gloria grinned. "I'm tougher than I look, Dee. I appreciate you looking out for me, though. Whoever marries you is going to be one lucky girl."
"Wha—mom!" Heat rushed to David's cheeks. This, of course, made Gloria laugh. In spite of his embarrassment, David knew his mother was deflecting. She was taking time off work, but he was no idiot. She was going to work herself into an early grave at this right.
And it'll be my fault.
A steel resolve began to form in David. No, he would not let that happen. He nearly lost his mother once, and he would be damned if he lost her again. He wouldn't drop out of the academy, not yet. If circ*mstances demanded it, he would do just that. It was fine if his mother was disappointed with him, just so long as he could help her in any way. Selling XBDs to rich snobs wasn't going to cut it anymore.
He needed something else, something that would earn him lots of eddies.
Looks like I'll be hitting the streets, he thought to himself as he helped Gloria make dinner. I'm pretty quick on my feet. There's gotta be at least a gonk or two carrying around some iron worth somethin'…
"Hey, Lucy. Come check this out."
The pale-haired girl blinked, her focus broken by Rebecca's voice. She had been scrolling through the shard she got from Kiwi—a data packet regarding their next gig—though it was light reading more than anything. She looked over, finding the shotgun-loving girl on the couch with her gonk brother watching TV. Plastered all over the screen was the latest news.
"Hot damn, look at that," Pilar marveled as the news showed off what looked like the most expensive and outlandish bioscuplt project she saw laid waste to a gang of Animals prowling the streets of Santo Domingo. "Gonk's got some crazy sense, but I'd sure love to meet his ripperdoc. What'cha thinkin', sis? 'Saka grade sh*t?"
"I'm more interested in where the hell he got those chains," Rebecca answered. There was no mistaking the sheer awe in her eyes. "And what kind of software he's runnin'. Ooh, f*ck! Did you f*cking see that! Hahaha! That poor shmuck's head popped like a grape! This asshole's amazing!"
Lucy rolled her eyes. What a bunch of gonks, she thought to herself. The cyberpsycho wreaking havoc was interesting, sure, but only because of their appearance. They must have cost a fortune to get that appearance right, much less whatever cyberware they had installed. As it stood, though, they weren't anything special so she paid it no mind.
She idly noted her throat was dry and went to the fridge to grab a bottle of NiCola. Just then, Dorio entered the room with her iron slung over her shoulder. "Yo," the beefy woman greeted with a nod. Lucy nodded back. "Kiwi back yet?"
"Nope, still running errands with Falco," she shrugged. "What's up? Is it about the gig?"
Dorio shook her head. "Maine has a favor to ask her. You know Gloria Martinez, right?"
"The one who was supposed to drop off the Sandevistan Maine paid for up front, right?" Lucy recalled. "You and Maine mentioned her a few times. She Maine's supplier for chrome?"
"Eh, sort of. She used to run with us years ago," Dorio explained. "Used the eddies she earned to start a new life for herself. Now she's a single mom working her ass off to provide for her kid, hence the chrome deal." The woman grimaced. "Which is why I'm asking for Kiwi. Turns out somebody broke into the Martinez's apartment and klept the Sandy while Gloria was in the hospital."
Lucy understood what Dorio was asking. "You want her to see if she can find out who stole it?" She nodded. Lucy hummed. "I'll give her a call and let her know."
"Thanks a bunch." Dorio smiled in gratitude, then went to join Pilar and Rebecca by the sofa. "Whoa, holy sh*t! What's up with the freakshow?"
"I know, right?! He looks like he came straight out of a Samurai album!"
Might as well head out for the day, Lucy thought. Nothing better to do around here anyway. Should be plenty of gonks to nick some credits in NCART this time of day.
Despite David's initial hopes, Arasaka Academy hadn't changed in the slightest. Teachers were still assholes watching him like a hawk because of what happened a few days ago, corpo brats were taking potshots at his expense, and Katsuo…
Well, thankfully, David hadn't seen Katsuo at all today. Small miracles, he supposed.
Classes were still boring as ever. Honestly, he wished he was anywhere but here. The corpo brats he could deal with, the teachers less so right now. Even so, being in school gave him time to think and rationalize. Namely, the stupidity of his plan to klept from people out on the street.
In any other place, his plan would've been fine. And that was the problem. He was in Night City, a sh*thole of epic proportions where scum and criminals of the worst kinds ruled. There was no telling who was carrying hardcore chrome until you were face-down in the dirt with a boot on your neck or there were Mantis Blades poking out through your back. Anyone walking in the street could be an Edgerunner or some kind of nutjob packing serious heat. If he tried to nick something off them, odds were he'd be dead before he realized it. Not unless he had some chrome himself.
In Night City, chrome was everything. Mantis Blades and Monowire could cut through anyone unlucky enough to be on the receiving end, Gorilla Arms could turn someone's head into bloody paste, Sandevistan made you into a speedy superhuman, and so on. It was a necessity, an advantage everyone wanted when dealing with the day-to-day crimes and affairs.
Last thing I want is to get zeroed by a cyberpsycho walkin' the streets, David thought to himself as he went to the washroom. But I still need lots of eddies. Maybe do some odd jobs? Courier sh*t? Agh, I really should look this stuff up.
A quick motion of his hand and the sink flowed with water. David leaned down, cupping the stream in his hands and forming a pool before splashing it across his face. He repeated this four times until he felt trickles dripping onto the collar of his shirt. He pulled away and—
David leaped away from the sink and stared at his reflection in shock and horror.
A skull marked with chrome and fire stared back. The same skeletal borg he saw in the XBD. It mimicked his every motions, from leaping away from the sink to looking on in horror.
"What…in the hell…?"
W A K E
U P
David hissed, nearly falling to his knees as his whole body suddenly erupted with pain. Every morsel, every pour, every single cell in his body was screaming. Traces of red static outlined his vision. A dull, aching throb formed in the back of his head. His body felt hot. His stomach churned, threatening to flip over and expel its contents across the floor. Hate, so much hate, so thick and vile it bombarded his nostrils to the point the throbbing grew worse. The world was spinning. His vision flickered and swam, the static growing worse.
He—
"Well, look what the trash dragged in! How are you doing, Martinez?"
The feeling passed as quickly as it happened. David blinked, staring at a Latino wearing his face in his reflection, the world as it should be before turning to see the absolute last person he wanted to see. Katsuo Tanaka stood there with that stupid smug grin, hands in his pockets. His hanger-ons were nowhere to be found.
David stared at Katsuo, still blinking in confusion. He looked back at the mirror, only to find that it dulled and shut down as it was no longer in use. He could still feel the searing heat from before, just below the surface of his skin. The throbbing pain in his head dulled, though it was no less agonizing. Looking at Katsuo stirred up feelings of anger, far more potent than usual. David often dreamed of scenarios where he put the smug brat in his place, but it was all mere fantasy.
It took some serious self-restraint to resist the urge to beat his face bloody.
David clenched his teeth, reigning his temper. "The hell you want, choom?" he asked tersely.
"What, I can't say hello?" Katsuo sneered before laughing. "No, you're right. That was a bad joke. I heard what happened to your mom. Must have been really f*cked up, getting caught up with the Animals, am I right?"
Where the hell did he hear about that? David gritted his teeth. There was no way what happened on the street made the news. Did one of his classmates see what happened?
"I'm surprised you had the eddies to afford getting her actual treatment in this sh*thole," Katsuo continued, his tone growing more and more mocking. "I mean, considering you're just gutter trash and all. You've been coasting by because dear old mom has been working herself to the bone, yeah? Honestly, I don't really see the point why you should have bothered. Way I heard it, she's already a foot in the grave. So many hours, slaving away in a dead end job…"
His heart hammered in his ears. "The f*ck are you getting at, Tanaka?"
Katsuo's smile was full of teeth as he leaned in. "I'm saying…she was better off dead. So would you, for that matter. You don't belong here, Martinez." He patted David in the shoulder and walked past, his hands moving toward his belt.
Something in David snapped. His vision turned red.
He whirled around, seized Katsuo by the shoulder, and rammed his fist into his face. The blow threw the corpo brat to the floor, colliding with the wall. Blood spewed from his mouth and nose. "Yhou mothfhuk—"
David punched him again, throwing him face-down into the tiled floor. He grabbed Katsuo by the collar of his shirt, pulling him back up, and punched him again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
And again…
Lucy hummed to herself, feet tapping along to the beat of the music playing onboard the NCART. It was one of Kerry Eurodyne's older songs, all the way from his days with Samurai and Johnny Silverhand. She was never a big fan of his music, but even she could admit he made something that brightened her day if only for a while.
Got the chrome in my bloodstream
Got a hardwired metal soul
I'm craving serious action
That smack, drag drunken roll
Chips are bashin' in my top
Ridin' high, my slots are shot
Metal burnin' beneath my skin
I'm chippin' in, chippin' in
"Tch," someone in the compartment snorted distastefully. "Silverhand sung it better. f*ckin' corpo sellout."
"The f*ck you say?" another growled, reaching for his iron.
Lucy rolled her eyes. "Men," she muttered under her breath.
Her haul was fairly average, which was mildly disappointing. While she wasn't strapping for eddies at the moment, she would never say no to more money. Money made the world go around, it paid the bills, and it went a long way for her dream. Like her mentor, Lucy did not care for Night City and made plans to leave it behind once she made enough scratch. People came to this city for the opportunity of making a better life, not realizing the muck and death that swallowed everyone the moment they set foot on its streets. She had no fond memories to this place, much less happy memories. Lucy could not recall the last time she had a happy memory.
Most people in her position would save up money to ditch town, go elsewhere, or join up with a Nomad clan. Lucy had somewhat grander ambitions. She wanted to go to a place where few people could follow her. A place she longed to reach since her days in Arasaka. Some would call her hopeless or foolish for wanting to go to the moon, but that was fine. She did not care what people thought of her dream. All that mattered was getting there.
There was no telling what sort of life waited for her on the moon, but it was better than Night City. Anything was better than Night City.
We keep this up, and I'll make enough to leave by next year, Lucy thought to herself. One more year. Just one more year…
She wasn't optimistic, of course. Being realistic made you live longer, and in a city as vile and corrupt as Night City, it was downright crucial. Anything could go wrong; one misstep, and that was all she wrote. Another major hurdle, and perhaps the most annoying of all, was their Fixer. It did not take a genius to realize Faraday was bad news, not to mention the worst kind of scum. She looked him up after it was clear how he viewed Maine and the others. He had a mid-collar background with connections to Militech, fancied himself as someone destined for bigger things. He wanted to join the ranks of the social elite, of the corporations.
The jobs were atrocious, and somehow the bastard always found ways to deny them a worthwhile bonus, even when they did the job down to the letter. Maine despised him, that was no secret, and it was also no secret that he was looking to branch out to other fixers and get better jobs for them. Lucy hoped he'd follow through when she saw the writing on the wall. If they continued to work with Faraday, bad things were going to happen.
Speaking of Maine…
Lucy frowned as her thoughts drifted to her boss. While she did not have a high opinion of Maine, he was at the very least competent and looked after his own. He made sure everyone got their fair cut, which she was grateful for since it helped her as well. He wasn't without problems, however. She saw him skimping out on taking meds, adding on new chrome when he was just getting used to the ones he had installed not long ago, occasionally blew a gasket every now and then. She saw the signs, and it worried her.
She did not want to deal with a cyberpsycho, and if she were honest, she didn't want to see what it would do to Dorio. Their relationship was one of the best things Lucy saw, and she didn't want to see it ruined because of Maine's stupidity. On the subject of chrome, Lucy recalled Dorio's words about the missing Sandevistan he purchased. Out of idle curiosity, she looked up Gloria Martinez to see if she was trustworthy despite what Dorio said about her. So far, everything seemed clean. She worked as a medtech officer, was a single mom, and her kid was enrolled at Arasaka Academy. She briefly glanced through his records just to cover her bases, but found nothing out of the ordinary. She did like how some Santo Domingo kid from the streets outperformed the Arasaka dimwits, though.
Justice called heavy violence
Gonna boost and hit the street
Corporate getting' violent droves
Made of greed and packin' heat
Cold chrome, spent molten lead
Can't be killed 'cause I'm already dead
Stand, don't feed the ghost within
I'm chippin' in, chippin' in
The NCART rattled as another train shot past. Lucy glanced at the two gonks arguing about who sung Chippin' In better, both men looking ready to blow each others' brains out and decorate the NCART in red. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted something interesting.
It was a kid, maybe sixteen or seventeen. He looked Latino judging by his features, a little on the cute and adorable side if not for the blood splatters along his cheek, chin, and neck. He was an Arasaka kid by the looks of it, recognizing the uniform anywhere. Like his face, it was also covered in blood. His left hand was stained with the stuff, albeit long dried by then.
What the hell happened to him? Lucy stared a while longer, noticing the defeated, almost dismayed expression on the kid's face. He was wringing his hands, rubbing his thumb against his blood-crusted hand as if trying to remove the stains. His hand was so raw she saw scratches and drips of blood each time he rubbed. Must have gotten into one hell of a fight.
It was hardly surprising. Arasaka Academy put the kids through their paces, weeding out the fit from the weak and all that crap. They primarily employed stress tests, pressuring their students to perform at their absolute best. It was not unheard of for the weak-minded to snap and go apesh*t, though that usually resulted in expulsion or a visit from Arasaka Academy security. At that point, you were either dead in a ditch or wished you were dead.
Ordinarily, Lucy would consider him an easy mark. With how he was, he wouldn't notice if someone klept him. Something about him made her pause, however. It was the look in his eyes. They reminded her of…darker times. Of faces she swore never to forget.
Her legs started moving before her brain caught up with her. "Hey, kid. You okay?"
Oh, what the hell are you doing, Lucy, she chided herself for her stupidity. The damage was done, however, as the kid looked up. He blinked a few times, staring at her in surprise. He stared a while longer before finally answering, sounding completely and utterly subdued.
"…does it look like I'm okay?"
"Frankly, you look like sh*t," Lucy said. "Let me guess, washed out hardcore?"
"How can you tell?"
"You're wearing an Arasaka Academy uniform, and you got blood on you. Usually that means you snapped at school," she pointed out to him.
The kid smiled mirthlessly, staring at the metal floor. "I didn't mean to kill him."
Lucy winced. This kid was f*cked six ways from Sunday, and that was if he was lucky. Beating the sh*t out of a fellow student was one thing, especially if they were a corpo kid, but killing them? On school grounds no less? It would not surprise her in the least if media outlets started talking about how some streetkid in Arasaka Academy went cyberpsycho at school.
"I don't know what happened. One moment I feel like I'm going to throw up, the next I felt…angry. At everything. Like I wanted to burn down the whole f*cking world a la Silverhand style. Then that f*cking gonk showed up and starting sh*t and…" His face scrunched up. She saw tears in the corner of his eyes. "I'm a f*cking gonk. God dammit. I screwed everything up."
"You're still alive," Lucy pointed out to him. "I'd say you still have a chance."
"The hell I do," the kid retorted angrily. "I promised mom I'd go all the way to the top. I promised, dammit." He gritted his teeth, his anger building up to the point where he was struggling to get coherent words out. Shaky hands balled into fists, no longer caring of the dried blood.
Lucy wouldn't care all that much were it not for the fact she felt something else from the kid's breakdown. His anger was…broiling. Intense, primal almost. It rolled off him in waves. The NCART felt warmer.
After a minute, the kid calmed down. His anger abated, but now sported the most miserable-looking face Lucy ever saw. He looked like a kicked puppy. "…mom is going to be so f*cking pissed."
"You care a lot about her, don't you?" Lucy noted somberly, thinking about how her life could have been if she had parents. She knew next to nothing about them and the people in charge of looking after her flat out said they couldn't care less who they were. In that respect, part of her felt envious of the kid.
His smile became a smidge brighter. "She's all I've got. Worked her ass to the bone to get me into school." His smile died and turned bitter. "And thanks to my f*cking dumb ass, all that hard work's gone down the drain." The kid sighed, reclining back in his seat while dragging his clean hand down his face. He looked tired, older even. He looked at her wryly. "Sorry. I didn't mean to bitch at you, er…"
"It's fine," Lucy shrugged. "The name's Lucy. You got a name, kid?"
"David," the boy answered. "David Martinez."
Lucy froze. A single thought came to her mind, just as she heard a commotion erupt from the train car behind them.
f*ck.
Yorinobu Arasaka stared at his reflection. In it, he saw a well-groomed man well into his years. Not an aging fossil like Saburo Arasaka, his father and Arasaka family patriarch, but he was getting old nonetheless. Youth treatments and supplements slowed the process, but he saw the beginnings of wrinkles along his skin, tiny strands of silver-gray in his swept-back hair. He appeared respectable, wore a countenance that demanded respect from lesser-born people around him, and had a wealthy upbringing.
This was the face Yorinobu despised with all his heart. The face of a hypocrite, of a man who damned his own soul to achieve his goal—no, his mission. Every day, Yorinobu would look at this face and glare at it, imagine the ways he could be rid of it, kill it even. He loathed the man in his reflection, for it reminded him of what he had done and what he would have to do to see this mission through. There had been a time when the man in the mirror had been a genuinely good man. A man who could change the world by fighting back against the silver dragon who birthed him.
In another world, Yorinobu thought, he would have been that man. A world where cybernetics were a daydream and corporations had no power. That was not his world. Worse, the genuinely good man fought and bled in the Red. The Red was a hellish time. Even now, when he closed his eyes, he could remember the crimson-tinged sky and the repugnant smell that tainted the air. Those were the years Yorinobu of the Steel Dragons fought against Arasaka, fighting together with Rockerboys, Solos, and even Netrunners who all had a bone to pick with the Japanese multi-national juggernaut. Yorinobu of the Steel Dragons gave up all that he was to fight. He abandoned the Arasaka name, his blood ties, all that his precious okaa-san gave him to kill the silver dragon.
It was during the Red and those days that Yorinobu of the Steel Dragons met a man who wore charisma and perfected the art of being a f*cking asshole. Johnny f*cking Silverhand. He was not just a Rockerboy; he was the Rockerboy. Samurai was the name on everyone's lips, and Silverhand was always front and center. His every word was vitrol and curses against Arasaka, at the corporations who had their boots on people's necks. His every action was treason and heresy of corporate gods. By the end of his career, Johnny Silverhand was the posterboy of rebellion.
And look where that ended, Yorinobu thought bitterly.
People still adored Silverhand and his teachings, his music, but that was it. They had long since forgotten his gospel and message. Instead, they saw the silver-armed monster who destroyed Night City fifty years ago. A nuke leveled the whole city, brought it down to its knees and then some. Yorinobu of the Steel Dragons wept when he heard what happened, saw images of the devastation Silverhand left behind in his dogged vendetta against Arasaka. The corporation took his output; a talented netrunner by the name of Cunningham. He did not know the specifics, but the poor girl died. Silverhand wanted payback. More than that, he wanted blood.
Yorinobu of the Steel Dragons loathed and despised the silver-armed demon then. There were lines people could not cross, and Silverhand jumped over it laughing. He could not fathom how he could waste so many lives. It would not be until he heard of his brother's passing that the charismatic prodigal son stared at the horizon, saw the silver dragon for what it was, and made a decision.
Yorinobu Arasaka killed Yorinobu of the Steel Dragons, snapping his neck and burying him in a shallow grave. He returned to the family he abandoned, bowed his head and exposed his neck for a blade to pass judgment, and kneeled before his patriarch. He half-expected Saburo Arasaka to kill him for his betrayal and for Hanako to condemn him. Instead, Saburo stayed his hand. Hanako still loved him despite his past. The prodigal son returned with a new outlook.
The wayward son closed his eyes, exhaling through his nose. He let the tension bleed from his shoulders, relaxing his white-knuckled grip on the sink before stepping away. The mirror dulled and faded, no longer in use. He stepped out of the bathroom and entered his penthouse suite, intending to dull the nerves with a bottle of wine. The "good sh*t" as Silverhand proclaimed it was hard to find, but not for an Arasaka. Credits and a feared reputation could get you places, something his younger self failed to realize. The bottle waited for him atop the kitchen table, begging to be opened and consumed.
Once more, Yorinobu thought about Silverhand. Before, he thought him a deranged madman out to set the world on fire if it meant it would destroy Arasaka. Now, he wondered if his associate may have had a point. Regular methods wouldn't work against his family. Nothing short of total warfare would so much as make a dent. While he still couldn't bring himself to fully approve of what he did to Night City, Yorinobu found a new level of respect for Silverhand. Even if he was a raging asshole. It was that very same respect that led Yorinobu to his latest endeavor.
The "Secure Your Soul" program was to be Saburo Arasaka's magnum opus. With Soulkiller, he found a way to capture the heart and soul, digitize it, and turn it into an engram. In a way, it was a form of immortality. The project was far from completion as there were two things still yet to be studied before it could go forward; the engram itself and the compatibility of its prospective body. The engram required a body with a matching genetic phenotype, otherwise it would simply reject it. Arasaka had no shortage of test subjects, but their preferred guinea pig was patient zero. The origin.
Johnny Silverhand.
Contrary to what the public believed, Silverhand did not die in his blaze of glory. It would have been a far kinder fate than what Arasaka subjected him to. They used Soulkiller on him, dragged his soul kicking and screaming out of his body, and dumped his lifeless corpse somewhere in the oil fields outside the ruined remains of Night City. Despite how he felt about his associate, Yorinobu pitied Silverhand. No man should have suffered such indignities. He should have died like a man.
Anders Hellman, some cowardly fool who folded under pressure, was quite forthcoming in the details. They were very close to completing a prototype chip containing an engram, meant to be used as a testing run. The prototype was to contain Silverhand's engram, as if to kill him hundreds of times for their own benefit. Once more, Yorinobu pitied what became of his associate. With subtle blackmail and pressure, Yorinobu joined the project was a beneficiary, although the truth was that he was going to give the prototype chip to a NetWatch Operations Manager by the name of Ronald Cheever, a co-conspirator to an extent.
It was Yorinobu's hope that giving the prototype to NetWatch would benefit him in the long run, and the hope that, by some small chance, Silverhand could assist him. They got along like oil and water even during the best of times, but rage and revenge were powerful motivators. Yorinobu had no doubt Silverhand was chomping at the bit for a chance to strike back against Arasaka. If anyone would be willing to help him succeed in this endeavor, it was him. Of course, there was also the possibility that Silverhand would not be so cooperative.
What would you say if you saw me now, Silverhand? Would you see a comrade? A traitor to the cause?
Yorinobu snorted as he unscrewed the wine bottle's cork, already imagining the vulgarity Silverhand might spew at him were they to meet now. Just as he removed the cork and poured himself a glass, he received a holo-call. The caller ID made him tense.
Reluctantly and dreadfully, he answered the call.
"What do you want, old man?" Yorinobu spoke calmly and evenly in spite of his words, ignoring the blood dripping from his fingers as he dug his fingernails into his palms. "I thought you made it explicitly clear we were to never speak again unless Hanako hosted a dinner party."
The silver dragon's expression was as cold as it was impassive. The fossil, as always, spoke in their native language. "That you ask what this call is about is proof your ignorance, my son," he chided, making Yorinobu frown. It was rare for the patriarch to speak in such a manner, as was the look in his eyes. There was apprehension. Fear, almost. "Counter-Intelligence contacted me regarding a certain…development, in Night City. A ghost from the past has sent us a message."
"What kind of message?"
Saburo Arasaka did not answer with words. Instead, the Emperor showed his prodigal son an image. As he said, it was a message. Not just any message, either. It was taken from within the Net itself, showing the ever-changing structure of the Blackwall.
Few things could terrify Yorinobu. What he saw did not instill fear or dread.
It terrified him.
A vivid memory came to him, of when Yorinobu of the Steel Dragons met a man more vicious and destructive than even Silverhand until Night City. Of the gashadokuro as he left behind a trail of fire, destruction, and screaming men. Of the Yama who descended upon the Earth to judge humanity and cast them into the fiery pits of Hell. He remembered the Night City Pyre.
"Not possible," Yorinobu hissed fearfully, digging his nails further into his palms. His knuckles bathed in his blood. "Not possible…"
Seared into the Blackwall with black-and-red fire was nothing short of a declaration of war.
I R I D E
A G A I N
