Cold sweat dripped down my back as I woke.
Freezing white light pushed down on me from above my bed.
"Guh..." I groan, pulling an arm over my eyes. My head throbbed, like thousands of needles were piercing and entering my brain.
There was a blurry, floating box above me, and I tried to swat at it. My hand only passed through, like it wasn't even there.
It was only on the third time that the thing dissolved into blue motes of light.
"You alright, girl? Don't go looking like an addict in my clinic," a voice said, the gravel and depth struck through my headache.
There was something else there... a soothing flow to his speech that seemed to calm me down.
"W-what time is it? How long was I out?" My hands propped me up and I could feel the phantom ache in the left side of my body. I let out a sigh, rubbing a stump that wasn't originally there.
"Not that it matters, but you're out for a day and change."
He finally stepped into my field of vision, his presence, blanketing my own.
"What happened that left you with four busted ribs and a shattered arm, there kiddo? A bit too young to be a merc, don't you think?" He said, his face scrunched in concern.
"I'm 20, I'd like to think I know what's up." I said, rubbing the blur out of my vision.
"And it's not like you'll believe me if I told you what happened," she shrugged, staring up at the lines on his face.
He snorted, "Trust me, I've heard way crazier stuff than what you're going through."
I nodded, absentmindedly scanning the room, "What if I told you I was falling from the sky and crashed into an AV?"
If he had any reaction, he didn't show it. Leaving only an understanding nod.
"And care to enlighten me on why you're completely 'ganic?" His eyebrows raises, he continues, "not a lick of chrome on those bones."
I laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of my head, while my mind tried to think of an explanation.
"Uh, can't a girl have some humanity to herself?"
Vik only gave her a suspicious nod before pulling a chair and sitting down beside her bed.
"Sure, whatever you say. And try not to make this a habit, my clinic isn't a revolving door," he said, readying his exoglove and whatchamacallit tech he intended to monitor me with.
———————
It was a few minutes layer that checking up was finished, despite my wounds being already healed up, Vik told me to wait 2 to three days before I did any combat.
"Thanks doc," My legs swung over the bed, reaching down to put my tattered sneakers back on.
"No problem, kiddo," he paused, mulling over something, "but what do you intend to do about that arm, though? I might have a spare Mantis?"
I paused, looking up at him.
"You'd do that?" I asked, my eyes wide.
It was expected that he was kind, but... it's another thing to experience it first-hand.
"Of course, for a loan if you don't have the money. Not everything comes without a price, kid." He smiled, he doesn't seem to even believe it himself.
I tried to scoff, looking down at my feet.
Of course, everything comes with a cost.
There was a coiling feeling, maybe guilt, alongside a flock of butterflies inside my stomach.
I sighed, nodding, "thanks, Vik, I appreciate it."
He nods, "don't mention it, if it weren't me, you coming here all organic, talking about crashing some AV is gonna raise some questions."
Vik rolled his shoulders and stood with a grunt, despite looking fitter than a Olympic athlete, age still is catching up to him.
"Sit tight," he muttered, walking over to the far wall of the clinic. He tapped a sequence on a grimy keypad. A hiss followed, and the wall opened with a sluggish clunk, revealing a hidden storage rack full of cybernetics.
I caught a glimpse of glistening metallic arms, optics, subdermal plating—some of it new, some of it clearly salvaged. A small tank of pinkish-red coolant burbled quietly in the corner, glowing faintly under a strip of flickering neon.
He dug around in silence, pulling out what looked like a box, frayed around the edge with the lid partially open probably because of damage on the hinge. Inside is a mantis blade unit, it's plating was scuffed, and it's blade was retracted and twitching, making the arm shake eerily. But otherwise seems well kept.
"This one's temperamental," he muttered to himself. "But it's light. Responsive. Just enough strength to let you punch through a door if you aim right. Belonged to a gonkwit who couldn't keep it clean."
Some parts of it whirred at his words, like expressing it's anger.
He turned toward me, holding it up.
"You good with lefties?"
I nodded, a grin directed at the arm. "I'm ambidextrous."
He smirked. "Of course you are."
He dropped the box into a tray beside me and began prepping his tools—his exoglove flexing. The sterilizer beeped, a low harmonic chime that vibrated excitedly against the metal of the bed.
"Lean back, deep breath," he said, gently bracing my shoulder.
"Will it hurt?" I asked, already laying back down.
He didn't answer. But the look on his face said yes, even if the numbing agent said probably not enough.
I definitely did not cry.
———————
Later – Watson District, Outside Misty's Esoterica
The sun was low, painting the smog above Night City with streaks of toxic gold. I leaned against Vik clinic's wall, stretching my new arm. The mantis blade unit flexed with a quiet hiss, the folded weapon hidden neatly beneath the metal flesh and wire muscles on my forearm. It was was twitching, again, but this time like it's observing me, evaluating my worth.
It's probably not, but my excitement's getting to me.
Who wouldn't, when you have metal for an arm?
Jackie Welles stood a few feet away, arms crossed, chrome biceps glinting in the light. He had that easy smirk, one that felt like it came from someone who hadn't yet figured out how much pain the city could really dish out.
That was surprising, but once I remembered that this is at the start of his career, I get it.
"So," he said, eyeing the arm. "Vik's really out here giving away premium chrome like candy now? Or you his long-lost daughter?"
I chuckled, the soreness in my ribs flaring just enough to remind me to stop.
"I crashed into an AV, my entire left side got shredded. Doc patched me up."
Jackie gave a low whistle. "Ain't every day you meet someone who drops outta the sky. Sounds like fate, chica."
Vik, standing beside me with his arms folded, gave a tired look. "Sounds like a concussion."
Jackie grinned. "Nah, man. I'm tellin' you—sky girl here's got some weird vibe. You ever think about merc work?"
I blinked. "You're direct."
"Yeah, well. City eats people like you alive if you're alone. But if you got backup? You survive. Maybe even make eddies while you're at it."
He held out a hand, all calluses and warmth.
I held back a sigh, keeping a smile on my face.
"Name's Jackie Welles. You in?"
I looked at Vik, who didn't say anything—but there was that faint nod again. The same one from the clinic. The kind that said trust your gut, kid.
I reached out and shook Jackie's hand.
"Name's Scarlet. Guess I'm in."
Maybe it's because I'm growing soft, or because I'm much more flawed than I thought I was.
Guilt coiled tighter as I looked at that joy on Jackie's face.
I couldn't stay here. I couldn't bring them with me.
Hell, I'm even potentially making things worse.
I gritted my teeth.
What am I feeling?
"Great! You got iron? Or we gotta go get one?"
Nodding, I rummaged through my coat, or the tattered remains of my clothes. Vik's place was a clinic, not some kind of clothier.
It wasn't that badly damaged anyway, a few tear here and there which he managed to stitch up.
Other than the hole in my left sleeve, I'm good.
I continued to rummage but looked up soon after, "Uh, where's that gun I had Vik? Did it break?"
He scoffed, shaking his head. "Did it break? You have to ask why didn't it break."
I scratched my head, "was it that damaged, it feels normal when I still had it..."
He shook his head again, before going into his workshop.
"So what was it? You had a gun?" Jackie asked, his arm crossed.
I only shrugged. "I stole it, after the crash. It was a smart weapon, seems to be busted though."
He whistled, nodding.
"You have smart link?"
I chuckled wryly, shaking my head.
"No, I'm mostly organic, remember?"
Vik came out at that moment, pulling the gate to his workshop close.
In his hands was a stack of eurodollars, and he outstretched it towards me.
"Take it, buy some new gun and don't come dripping blood back into my clinic, you hear?"
I blinked, eyes misting over slightly.
He's making it so hard, is he?
I grabbed it, shrugging.
"No promises unc, I gotta also pay you back for the arm as well," my face twisted into a smile, a self assured and confident one.
He snorted, "do what you gotta do, don't overestimate yourself."
Then he left, back to his clinic and pulls his gate close.
Jackie gave me a pat on the back, a faint smile on his face.
I was only able to answer with a nod.
He took us to his bike and we got on.
Desite trying to distract myself with the wind, the passing scenery of this "wonderful" cyberpunk world. My mind still thinks back to my own choices.
But I don't want to.
I don't want to regret or doubt my own actions.
I just want to live like others, feel joy and receive love.
Maybe not the romantic kind yet, but I digress.
Because all my life, I've been hated, struggled, never knew joy. But now that I do, I can confidently say it's the most addicting substance I know.
[Congratulations on completing your first task, recruit. Here's your next one:
Cause a 5th corporate war: "0%"
Reward: 100000 credits and official promotion to full Instigator agent status.]
"Hah..." I sighed.
And the world just keeps spinning, huh?
———————
The store smelled like oil and ozone, like a barrel of gunpowder ready to explode. Rows of guns, rifles, cyberware lined on racks behind wire mesh and flickering neon lights. The shopkeep didn't even look up, just nodded once and kept cleaning what looked like a custom Techtronika revolver with a cracked barrel and blood still on the grip.
I stood there awkwardly, arms crossed, the weight of the stack of Eurodollars Vik had given me burning a hole in my back pocket.
We made it over to a glass display near the counter, where countless handguns are arranged neatly.
He clapped his hands together first giving me a grin.
"So, what you looking for, chica? First piece says a lot about a person."
I stared at the guns, underneath each was a plaque with their name on it.
My hands hover over a sleek Unity. I deliberated a moment before I chose it's little brother.
"ohh, that one. The Liberty. Ain't flashy, but it bites."
I stared at the pistol—a big, blocky thing that looked like a hand cannon, i imagined it roaring gunfire as i shoot down some "gonk," heh.
It has a nickel-plated slide, chipped paint on the grip. Like it had seen things it didn't talk about.
"Why this one?" he asked, arms still folded. An easy smile on his face.
I shrugged, looking up.
"Doesn't need much to kill a man, don't you?"
I smirked, Jackie just grinned at me as we made our way to the counter.
The shopkeep nodded without a word, sliding over a few cases. "Pick your poison."
I took the bills in my pocket and paid in full, and it didn't take long, in moments I went with the Liberty. It fit in my hand like it belonged there. And it many magazines rests in the inner pockets of my coat.
Jackie grinned. "Alright. Let's see what you got."
———————
We followed the shopkeep out to the side to some bright and spacious shooting range. There, he handed me a few mags before he left.
Jackie was giddy, he smiled wildly as I put one of those headphones like protection thing on.
I was barely hanging on myself, can't wait to even try shooting for the second time.
"Welcome to the Night City welcome party," Jackie announced, tossing a mag to me. "Go ahead. Make friends."
I loaded the mag, the click of the slide strangely satisfying. The gun felt heavier now, like it knew I was nervous.
My hands shook and I breathed out, last time I had a gun in my hand, three gangers was imagining me under them in their head.
I took aim at the target took a deep breath before using the memory of my shooting in that alleyway to guide my shots.
*BAAM*
Missed, I shot too high.
"Again," Jackie said gently.
I didn't need to be told twice, I only adjusted my aim for a moment before three consecutive shots rang out.
*BAAM**BAAM**BAAM*
First, second and third all hit the bullseye.
Jackie whooped. "¡Eso es! Told you. The girl can shoot."
He raised a hand, expecting a high five.
I smirked, and struck my palm with his.
The gun felt good, in a way. And the pace that I'm learning how to shoot is even better.
Bar the stinging of my side from the recoil of course.
Jackie walked over, slapping me on the shoulder. "You're a natural. Gotta be muscle memory or something."
Yeah. Something like that.
Maybe something else too, I just realized.
I tried to hold back a sigh.
This is gonna be hard.
How do seasoned agents even finish their tasks?