The drinks hit harder than I thought. Everything was too warm, music pounding through the walls, lights flashing in colors that felt like someone stuck a migraine through a kaleidoscope. Rebecca was already halfway gone, yelling at nobody and laughing her ass off, dragging Sasha to the dance floor. I tried to follow at first but the world tilted sideways, so I just turned around and headed for the bathroom before I completely blacked out.
The corridor smelled like sweat and piss. Some guy was passed out near the wall, head tilted back, mouth open. I stepped over him. The bathroom door buzzed as I pushed it open, heavy with that stale, wet smell every club has. One of the stalls was occupied, someone moaning quietly. I really didn't want to know who.
Didn't matter. I leaned over the sink and stared at myself in the cracked mirror. Eyes red, face pale. Looked like I aged ten years in an hour. I shoved two fingers down my throat and waited until the burning started, until the booze came back up in waves. It hurt. My eyes watered. When it stopped, I just stayed there, breathing through my teeth, shaking.
Even after I threw up, it didn't help much. Still tipsy. Still that warm fog behind my eyes. I turned on the faucet and splashed water on my face, rinsed my mouth. The water was cold, metallic, made me shiver a bit. Felt alive again, but not by much.
I pushed the door open and stepped out. Right then some guy brushed my shoulder, big, bald, the bodyguard from the entrance. He looked down at me, smirked. "Lightweight, huh." Then walked past me and unzipped behind the urinal. I didn't answer. Just stood there for a second, jaw tight, hands still wet, thinking how pointless this all was.
I walked out rubbing my face with my sleeve, still feeling the burn in my throat. No point. Everyone here was either drunk, high, or too busy having fun.
I stood there for a bit, watching the lights move over the crowd. Rebecca was spinning with Sasha near the booth, hair flying, drink in her hand like it was glued there. Maine and Dorio were still nowhere to be seen. It hit me that I had no idea what I was even doing here. Thought maybe I could make some kind of connection, get a foot in, but everyone was too wasted for that. Just noise, lights, sweat.
I got frustrated, jaw locked, turned back toward the bar. Needed to sit down before my head split open. Claire Russell was there behind the counter, doing her thing, barely paying attention to anyone. I dropped into a stool and asked for a Johnny Silverhand. Just wanted to see what the fuss was about.
She slid it over. Looked darker than I expected, smelled rough. I took a sip and it wasn't bad, strong, bitter, burned a little. I stared at it for a while, thinking what the hell I was supposed to do next. The bass from the dance floor kept thumping through the counter, shaking the glass.
A few minutes passed before Sasha sat down next to me, still flushed from dancing. "I wondered where you went," she said, ordering the same drink just to match.
She leaned her elbow on the bar, hair sticking a bit to her neck from the heat, eyes on me like she was trying to figure something out. I just nodded, took another sip. "Needed a break," I said. My voice came out rough, like I hadn't spoken in a while.
We sat there for a bit, not talking. The place was loud enough that silence didn't matter. After a while I asked, "How'd you even get me in here anyway? I got no cred, no rep."
She gave a small grin. "You pulled the recordings, remember? That was enough to make Maine stop arguing. I just told them you were worth a shot."
"You risked your rep for that?" I said. Didn't sound like something people did around here.
Sasha shrugged, taking a slow sip from her glass. "Well. Yoko would've had no issue getting in, she's got Wakako's backing. You seemed way to eager, so I had to make it work somehow."
I nodded, staring into my drink. The surface rippled from the bass under my feet, my reflection warping with it. The buzz finally started to feel kind of nice, body lighter, head quieter.
Sasha leaned back on the stool, crossed one leg over the other. "So," she said, smirking a little, "does it still hurt?"
I blinked at her. "What?"
"Your ass," she said, nodding toward me. "Heard you got clipped by some cop rounds. Guessing that stung."
I sighed, shaking my head. "Didn't expect a supermarket to have that kind of security. Lucky it was the cops and not some punk. Would've been more embarrassing. I just have a good doc."
She laughed quietly, spinning her glass.
Then there's this sharp laugh from across the room, Rebecca. She's was getting rowdy, getting up on a table, talking something about how the music "sucks ass but fuck it, she's the party now." A guard tries to calm her down and she just points at him, says something flirty and loud enough that half the bar turns.
I glance at Sasha. She looks the other way like she doesn't know her. I do the same.
I can't help but laugh under my breath, dry, short. It's all so stupid. The whole night. Me sitting here trying to make connections while everyone else is too drunk to stand. I swirl what's left of my drink, staring at the amber circle. "You ever wish things were just... boring?" I ask.
She tilts her head. "Boring?"
"Yeah. No guns, no gigs, no running from someone. Just normal shit. Wake up, work, sleep."
Sasha grins. "You pull one job and already talking about retirement? Pussy move, isn't it?"
I smirk a little but don't say anything. Just down what's left of the drink and wave for another. Something stronger this time. Claire slides it over, the glass heavier, Morgan Blackhand. I take a sip and it hits harder, but cleaner. More my thing.
"Being a merc isn't what I want," I say. "Edgerunners burn out. Always do."
She eyes me over her glass. "How many you even know to be so sure?"
"Enough," I mutter. "I know how it ends."
Sasha leans forward, elbows on the bar. "You're talking to one right now, and I'm fine. No plans of stopping. Being an edgerunner's just life, same as any other. You take what you get."
I look at her for a moment, then back at my drink. "There's more than just mercs. People above them, fixers, the ones who decide how it all plays out. That's where real control is."
She gasps, fake-dramatic, covers her mouth like she's in a drama flick. "You planning to take Rogue's throne or something? Queen of the Afterlife better watch her ass."
I meet her eyes. "If I want what I'm after, I'll need nothing less than to control the world."
Sasha blinks, then laughs, this short, sharp sound that cuts through the music. "You take something else with that drink, or what?" she says and reaches out to my forehead.
I push her hand away. "Just thinking out loud."
She leans back on the stool, grinning, one leg crossed over the other, her dress sliding a little down her thigh under the neon light. She's clearly waiting for a comeback, but I'm too buzzed to bother. My thoughts are slow, tangled. All I can do is exhale and watch her through half-lidded eyes.
I glance down at my new suit, fingers brushing the seams. "You think I could still return this thing? Get a better one?"
She cocks her brow, amused. "What's wrong with it?"
"You said yourself that conductivity's trash. What's yours rated at?"
"Eleven-point-eight." She says it like it's nothing, takes a sip from her glass. "That's about as high as you go before it's full body, then you look like a goddamn gimp and can't blend in anywhere. No thanks."
"Could've asked Yoko to find a seller," I mumble. "Maybe a secondhand one."
Sasha chuckles. "Secondhand ones usually come with extra meat still attached. Not exactly plug-and-play."
"Yeah, well, I can manage. You even wash these suits, or what?"
She smirks. "You don't strike me as the 'clean type,' choom." She signals Claire for another drink, some weird green cocktail with shredded leaves floating in it.
I roll my eyes but can't help smiling a bit. The conversation drifts, softens. We talk gear, builds, half-baked theories about better neural sync ratios. One drink turns into two, two into four. I try everything on the board just for the hell of it, even ask for V's signature, but Claire just gives me a look, like "who the fuck is V?"I tried describing the drink, but I don't exactly remember what it had in the game.
By the time the bottles blur into one, the night's just laughter, flashing lights, Sasha's hand brushing my arm mid-sentence. I don't remember leaving, only the cold air biting my face somewhere outside.
Then nothing.
I wake up hard and fast. Feels like my brain got run through a woodchipper. My tongue's dry, mouth tastes like metal and acid, definite vomit somewhere in the mix. Air's stale. Faint hum of a TV in the background. I'm in a bed, not mine.
The mattress under me is actually soft, too soft for my place, that's for sure. I blink a few times, try to piece anything together. Nothing.
Then I feel movement next to me. Small, steady breathing under the covers.
I freeze. Slowly, I glance over, light green hair poking out from under a blanket.
Shit.
My stomach drops. I pull the sheet back a little, slow enough to not wake whoever the hell this is.
Rebecca.
She's sprawled out, starfished under the blanket, snoring softly. Her clothes, what's left of them, are scattered across the floor. There's a half-eaten burrito on the nightstand. Smell of booze, gunpowder, and some perfume that doesn't fit her at all.
She's tiny in person. Compact build, wiry arms, pale metallic skin with occasional seam. Hair a messy, short-cropped lime-green mop sticking in every direction. Cute, if you forget she's fucking insane.
I sit up, slow, trying not to make a sound. My head's pounding, my stomach turns, and that's when I notice, I'm naked. Fully.
Great.
I mutter, "Oh, for fuck's sake…" and scan the floor. My gun's sitting there too, tossed on top of a pile of my clothes.
Alright. Just get dressed, sneak out, pretend it never happened. Easy.
I move quiet, like a thief in my own life, reaching for my pants, when the front door slams open.
A voice, loud as hell: "YO, I'M BACK! Wait the fuck…"
Tall, lanky guy with long limbs like a stick insect walks in, a giant mohawk on his head. Big visor where his eyes should be, glowing faintly red. Dressed like a worker on a gas station.
Pilar.
He stops dead, looking at me halfway bent over, one leg in a pair of pants, the other bare-assed.
Rebecca groans from under the covers, tugging the sheet tighter over her head. "Be quiet…" she mumbles, her voice rough with hangover.
Pilar's grin spreads across his face like he just won the lottery. "HUUUH!? SIS, YOU BEEN FUCKIN' WHILE I WAS GONE?! WHEN AM I GONNA BE UNCLE, HUH?!"
I freeze mid-motion. Rebecca turns her head toward him, blinking blearily, then toward me. I can see the moment it clicks.
"Huh?... huh?... HUUUUUH?!"
She jumps out of bed, hair a wild mess, grabbing for the first thing in reach, her pink shotgun, Gutsy. She pumps it once, the sound echoing in the room.
"What the fuck, man?! Did you fuck me while I was drunk?! ANSWER!"
I raise my hands, pants half on, brain lagging behind reality. "I, I don't know! I don't think so! I—"
Pilar's doubled over, laughing so hard he's almost choking.
Rebecca's up on her feet, bare legs and cyberarms gleaming under the light, aiming the gun right between my eyes. Her expression somewhere between furious, hungover, and mortified.
"Look," I start carefully, staring at the barrel. "I don't remember. I got wasted too. Let's just call Sasha, figure this out. We probably didn't—"
"Probably?!" Pilar wheezes, slapping his thigh, tears forming under his visor.
Rebecca glares daggers at me, then sighs and lowers the gun, just a little.
Rebecca's still glaring, breathing heavy. I don't move an inch until the barrel's fully off my face. My heart's still doing double-time. Pilar's still dying of laughter in the background, kicking the couch like a lunatic.
"Alright," I mutter, grabbing my shirt from the pile. "We'll call Sasha. She'll clear this up."
Rebecca's rubbing her temple with her metal fingers, the servos whining a bit. "You better fucking hope so," she growls. Her hand's shaking slightly, hangover or rage, hard to tell. "You do it."
I use my holo, open a call to Sasha, invite Rebecca into the chat. It rings twice before Sasha picks up. "Yeah?" she says, voice too casual for the situation.
Rebecca yells immediately, "What the fuck's your guy doing in my house!?"
Sasha pauses for half a second, then laughs lightly. "My guy? You mean Caelen? You offered to let him crash at your place."
I blink, thrown off. "Wait, I, what?"
Rebecca looks between me and the holo like she's trying to decide which one to punch first. "I what?" she mutters.
Sasha keeps going, her tone half amused, half exasperated. "He got so wasted we couldn't even get out of him where he lived, so you offered. Said you had a spare bed or something."
Rebecca drags her arm down her face, her red and green eyes squinting through the hangover. "Oh, for fuck's sake…"
I rub my forehead. "Couldn't you stop me?"
Rebecca lowers the shotgun all the way, muttering, "I remember now…" She turns toward the couch. "Pilar, pass me something to drink."
He grabs a random bottle from the counter, lobs it at her. She catches it with one hand, pops it open on her metal finger, takes a few gulps straight down.
Pilar grins. "So what, did you try anal yet?"
I almost choke on my own air. Rebecca whips her head toward him. "Shut the fuck up, bro!"
Sasha chuckles through the holo. "Choom, it's your life. We all thought you had a detox implant or something. What's the big deal?"
Rebecca snaps, "WHY WAS HE NAKED IN MY BED?!"
There's a pause. Then Sasha, totally unfazed, "Wait, really?"
"YES! HE WAS NAKED! SLEEPING RIGHT NEXT TO ME!"
Sasha snorts. "You got a pic?"
Rebecca looks disgusted. "God no!"
I glance down at my pants and see a massive dried puke stain near the thigh. "Ah. I think I was being considerate. Don't know why I didn't go for the couch though."
Rebecca stares at me like I grew a second head. "WHY'D YOU TAKE OFF YOUR UNDERWEAR TOO?!"
I finally pull up my pants all the way, half-dead inside. "I don't really own any underwear."
Sasha and Pilar burst into synchronized laughter. Pilar's doubled over again. "Holy shit, choom, you're a nutcase. I like your style!"
Rebecca's fuming, face red as her eye. Sasha's still laughing when she says, "Seems like you got it all figured out. Later." Then she hangs up.
Rebecca's staring at me, jaw tight. "Get out. Now."
I nod fast. "Yeah, sure. I'm trying to, trust me." I look down at the rest of my clothes, the neat pile now soaked in vomit because I threw the pants on top.
"Can I at least rinse my stuff real quick?"
She rolls her eyes and walks to the fridge, pulling out a burrito. "Be quick. Then fuck off."
I take that as permission.
Bathroom's small, mirror cracked, sink full of grime and toothpaste crust. I turn the tap and let it run, start washing the pants. The water runs brownish-pink, smells foul.
While I'm scrubbing, I ask, "Mind filling me in on what the hell got into me yesterday?"
"COCK!" Pilar shouts immediately from the living room.
"SHUT THE FUCK UP, BRO!" Rebecca fires back. "You tried outdrinking me, dumbass, and lost."
"Fuck, really?" I call out.
"She's like twice your weight, choom!" Pilar adds, laughing.
"SHUT THE FUCK UP, BOTH OF YOU!" Rebecca yells, then groans and holds her head. The hangover's catching up to her.
I rinse the last of the stains and shake my hands dry. "Did I say anything stupid?"
Rebecca groans, "You came up with, like, a thousand business ideas and wanted to meet Rogue to pitch them. We had to hold you down."
I blink. "Wait, really?"
She grins despite herself. "Yeah. Kept saying you'd change the world or some shit."
I open my notes. There it is, "MILLION EDDIES IDEAS" written in barely readable mess. The list's a disaster. Full dive VR games. AI chatbots. Robot ponies. Drill teeth. Ass teeth. AI teeth.
"…seems like I was really into teeth," I mutter.
Rebecca snorts, shaking her head.
Eventually, I step out, relatively clean, pants still damp but wearable. "Mind sharing some water?"
She's sitting on the couch, eyes closed, burrito in hand. "Fuck off and leave. Don't tell anyone about this."
"Yeah, not exactly bragging material," I say, heading for the door.
Her eyes snap open. "What the fuck you mean?"
"Nothing. Bye."
I'm halfway down the hall when I hear Pilar's laugh erupt again from behind the door. Rebecca's voice follows, muffled and furious. Something crashes.
Yeah. Definitely not telling anyone.